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Chapter Text

The glow of the setting sun bled through the blinds, painting Agatha's corner office. She sat behind her desk, posture straight, fingers steepled under her chin as her communications director, Jen Kale, paced the room with all the nervous energy of a small animal in a trap.

“The numbers don’t lie,” Jen said, jabbing her tablet for emphasis. “You’re pushing out younger voters, Agatha. They think you’re—how do I put this politely?—stale. Out of touch. Safe.”

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her lips curling into a thin smile. “Safe wins elections, Jen.”

“Not in this climate. Safe is a kind word for traditional, they don’t want more of that.” Jen stopped pacing and turned to face her “Agatha, we need to make a bold move. Something—someone—who can reenergize this campaign. Bring in a fresh perspective.”

“I don’t need fresh. I need effective.” Agatha shot back.

“And what we’ve been doing isn’t working!” Jen’s voice rose, and then she caught herself.

She inhaled deeply, glancing at the door as if expecting someone to burst in. Lowering her tone, she continued, “You’re barely holding your lead against Cadwell, and we both know he’s going to push harder in the coming weeks. Lilia agrees.”

At the mention of one of her top donors, Agatha stiffened. “Lilia’s a philanthropist, not a campaign strategist.”

“She’s also someone who’s bankrolling a third of this operation. And she’s insistent.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. She could feel the trap closing around her, the way politics so often left no room to maneuver. “Insistent about what, exactly?”

Jen hesitated, then slid her tablet across the desk.

On the screen was a profile: Rio Vidal—Campaign Strategist. The photo showed a striking woman with sharp eyes, tousled dark hair, and a defiant smirk that made Agatha’s stomach twist unpleasantly.

“Absolutely not.” Agatha pushed the tablet back, her voice cold.

“Agatha—”

“I said no. She’s reckless. Impulsive. A complete liability. I don’t care how many social media campaigns she’s won; I won’t have her running roughshod over my campaign.”

“She won’t be running it,” Jen said, folding her arms. “She’ll be consulting. Advising. Helping you connect with the voters we’re losing.”

Agatha stood abruptly, her chair scraping against the floor. “I’d rather lose with dignity than win with chaos.”

“You might get your wish if you don’t try something new,” a voice interrupted from the doorway.

Agatha turned to see Lilia leaning against the doorframe, her perfectly beige tailored suit as immaculate as ever.

The philanthropist’s smile was all politeness, but her tone was firm.

“Agatha, we both know you’re the best candidate for the job,” Lilia said, stepping into the room. “But the voters won’t see that if you don’t let someone like Rio help you. She has a way of cutting through the noise.”

“She’s trouble.” Agatha said as she glanced sharply at Lilia.

Lilia shrugged, not being bothered by Agatha’s posture, taking a seat across from her. “Trouble isn’t always a bad thing. Besides, I already spoke to her. She’s… hesitant, but she’ll come around.”

Agatha’s glare could have cut glass. “You went behind my back?”

“I invested in your campaign because I believe in you,” Lilia said calmly. “But I’m not going to stand by and watch you sabotage yourself out of pride. You need her, whether you like it or not.”

**

Rio Vidal sat cross-legged on the floor of her small apartment, surrounded by scraps of paper, notebooks, and a whiteboard covered in hastily drawn diagrams. Her phone buzzed against the table.

She glanced at the screen and groaned.

Alice.

Alice only reaches out when she is trying to ask something from Rio. They’ve been friends for a while, but since she started to work for Agatha, Rio stepped back a little.
She doesn’t identify with the values of that particular campaign.

Rio debated ignoring it but picked up anyway. “Alice, whatever you’re about to say, the answer’s no.”

“Oh, come on, hear me out first,” Alice said, her voice bubbling with enthusiasm.

“I already told you—I’m not interested in cleaning up another politician’s mess. I’ve had enough of those for a lifetime.”

“This isn’t just any politician,” Alice pressed. “It’s Agatha Harkness.”

Rio froze. “You’re joking.”

“Nope. Lilia’s backing her campaign, and she personally asked for you. She thinks you’d be perfect for the job.”

“Perfect for babysitting a self-righteous, cold-hearted careerist?” Rio laughed bitterly. “Nah. I think I’ll pass.”

“Look, I know you and Agatha have history—”

“History? That’s one way of putting it” Rio snorted. “I called her out and she looked at me like she wanted to vaporize me. If she had powers, I’d be dead.”

“That was years ago,” Alice said. “People change. And besides, you’d be doing more than working for her, you’d be helping shape the future of this district. You’d be making a real difference.”

Rio sighed, rubbing her temple.

“Why me? There are dozens of consultants she could hire. Besides, you’re acting like you don’t know where I stand regarding Agatha’s politics. She’s not someone I want to be around, especially after being so out of touch with some things and -”

“Because you’re the best” Alice cuts her off. And because Lilia trusts you. I think this is a good chance to spin the politics you seem to criticize so much.”

“And you’re involved because…?”

“Because Lilia’s my aunt, and I’ve been working on this campaign too, as you well know. I know the team, and I know how much they need you.” Alice’s voice softened. “Look, I get it. She’s not your favorite person. But this is bigger than that.”

Rio leaned back against the couch, staring at the ceiling. Part of her wanted to say no and forget the whole thing. But the other part, the part that still burned with the need to do something meaningful, couldn’t quite let it go.

“I’ll think about it, but don’t get your hopes up.” she said finally.

She spent the rest of the day wondering about this. But Rio, being Rio, was not one to back away from a challenge. And taming Agatha Harkness - well, her politics - was one hell of a challenge.

**

Agatha’s campaign headquarters buzzed with activity. Phones rang in the background, staffers darted between cubicles clutching papers and coffee cups, and the hum of printers and photocopiers filled the air. It was chaos, the kind Agatha usually thrived on.

Today, however, her patience was thin.

She stood in her office, arms crossed as Jen Kale outlined the updated press schedule. Jen’s voice faded into background noise as Agatha’s eyes strayed to the doorway. Any moment now, Rio Vidal would walk through it, and Agatha would be forced to tolerate her presence.

The very idea set her teeth on edge.

“…and we’ve got the community roundtable on Thursday,” Jen said, pulling Agatha back to the present. “I’ll finalize the talking points this afternoon.”

“Fine,” Agatha said curtly, her tone sharper than intended.

Jen hesitated, then asked carefully, “Are you sure about this, Agatha? About Rio?”

“No,” Agatha admitted. “But Lilia’s made it abundantly clear I don’t have a choice.”

Jen nodded, looking like she wanted to say more but thought better of it. “I’ll keep her in check. She won’t derail us.”

Before Agatha could respond, the door opened, and Rio Vidal stepped inside, flanked by Alice.
If Rio felt out of place in the high-stakes atmosphere of the campaign headquarters, she didn’t show it. She walked in like she owned the room, her confident stride and sharp gaze setting her apart from the harried staffers outside.

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Ms. Vidal.”

Rio smirked. “Congresswoman Harkness. Or do you prefer Agatha?”

She was a walking contradiction to the polished professionalism Agatha demanded. She already knew that, so she ignored the bait, gesturing to the chair across from her desk.

“Let’s get one thing straight: I didn’t ask for you to be here. This was not my idea.”

“Trust me, the feeling’s mutual,” Rio said as she sat, folding one leg over the other. “I’m only here because your team begged me. And because Alice bribed me with coffee and moral guilt.”

Alice, standing by the door, rolled her eyes. “Happy to help.”

Agatha’s gaze flicked to Alice. “You’re excused.” She said, as she waved her hand towards the door.

Alice hesitated, glancing between the two women, before muttering, “Good luck,” and stepping out.

Rio leaned back in her chair, unfazed. “So, what’s the plan, Harkness?”

Agatha bristled at the casual tone. “The plan is that you listen, follow my lead, and don’t overstep your bounds.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her smirk widening. “You brought me in to fix your mess, but you still want to call the shots?”

“I brought you in because I was strong-armed into it,” Agatha shot back. “Don’t confuse necessity with trust.”

“Good to know where we stand,” Rio said, the humor fading from her voice. She leaned forward, her expression suddenly serious. “But let me make something clear: I don’t do half-measures. If you want me here, I’m going to do what I do best. That means I’m not here to play nice, and I’m definitely not here to coddle you.”

Agatha stared at her, the air between them heavy with tension.

Jen cleared her throat, breaking the silence. “So… Why don’t we start with the basics? Rio, we’re struggling to connect with younger voters. What would you suggest?”

Rio didn’t hesitate. “Authenticity.”

Agatha snorted. “That’s a buzzword, not a strategy.”

“It’s both,” Rio countered. “Your voters don’t trust you because you’re too polished. Too perfect. They see you as someone who’s playing it safe, hiding behind carefully curated soundbites. You need to show them the real you—messy edges and all.”

“The real me,” Agatha repeated dryly.

“Yes,” Rio said, holding her gaze. “And if you don’t know who that is, well… that’s a problem we’ll need to solve first.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “I don’t need a lecture on authenticity from someone who’s never run a campaign this high-profile.”

“And I don’t need a lecture on politics from someone who’s clearly out of touch,” Rio shot back.

Jen’s eyes darted nervously between them. “Okaaaay, let’s—uh—take a step back.”

Agatha took a calming breath, forcing herself to unclench her fists. “Fine. You’ve made your point. But if you want to stay on this campaign, you’ll need to earn your place. I won’t tolerate insubordination.”

Rio grinned, as if she’d just won a game only she was playing. “Challenge accepted.”

**

Later that night, Agatha sat alone in her office long after the headquarters had quieted down.

The city lights glowed faintly through the window, but she paid them no mind. Her thoughts were on Rio Vidal—sharp-tongued, unpolished, and maddeningly confident.

She couldn’t deny that Rio had a certain charisma, the kind that drew people in whether they wanted to be or not. But that same confidence was a liability, a fire that could just as easily burn her campaign to the ground.

Agatha rubbed her temples, the weight of the day settling on her shoulders. She’d dealt with plenty of difficult people in her career, but Rio was something else entirely.
For the first time in years, Agatha felt unsure. Not of her abilities, but of whether she’d made the right decision—or if it had been made for her.

**

At her apartment, Rio sprawled on her couch, a laptop balanced on her knees as she scrolled through Agatha Harkness’ public profile. The congresswoman’s speeches, interviews, and meticulously curated photos painted a picture of perfection. Controlled, calculated, untouchable.

“Authenticity my ass” Rio muttered to herself.

But beneath the layers of polish, she saw something else—something Agatha probably didn’t even realize she was revealing. The tight smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. The way she avoided personal questions with practiced ease. The faint crack in the mask when she spoke about her district’s struggles.
Rio closed her laptop and stared at the ceiling. She didn’t like Agatha, but she couldn’t deny she was intrigued. There was something under all that perfection - not that she truly thought Agatha was perfect, far from that, she hated the woman. But she needed to understand how many layers of polished and calculated work she needed to peel off, to get to the real Agatha.

Chapter Text

Agatha stood in the fluorescent-lit conference room, arms crossed tightly over her chest, her lips pressed into a thin line of irritation. She could already feel the headache forming.

Rio sat on the edge of the conference table, her jacket discarded over a chair, revealing a casual gray t-shirt that somehow made her seem even more out of place. The rest of the campaign team had scattered after their morning briefing, leaving the two women alone to discuss “strategy.”
Rio hadn’t said much during the meeting, letting Jen and the other staffers present their talking points and social media plans. But now, in the relative quiet, she seemed to come alive.

“We need to get you out of this building,” Rio said in a quick manner, gesturing vaguely toward the windows. “And out of your comfort zone.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “I’m not interested in theatrics.”

“Good, because this isn’t about theatrics,” Rio said, hopping off the table and pacing in front of Agatha. “This is about connecting with people. And right now, you’re about as relatable as a brick wall.”

“I connect just fine,” Agatha shot back.

“No, you don’t.” Rio turned to face her, arms crossed “You lecture. You stand behind podiums and deliver these perfectly crafted speeches that sound like they came out of a PR manual. People don’t trust that. They want to see the human being underneath.”

Agatha stiffened. “I’m not interested in putting on a performance for the sake of optics.”

“It’s not a performance,” Rio said. “It’s about letting people see who you really are.”

Agatha’s gaze hardened. “And what makes you think you know who I am?”

Rio smirked. “I don’t. But I plan to find out.”

Before Agatha could respond, Rio grabbed her jacket and slung it over her shoulder. “Come on. We’re going on a field trip.”

Agatha blinked, taken aback by the sudden shift in tone. “A what?”

“You heard me,” Rio said, already heading for the door. “We’re leaving. Now.”

Agatha stayed rooted to the spot. “I have meetings.”

“They can wait.” Rio turned back, her grin infuriatingly smug. “Unless you’re too scared to let someone else take the lead for once.”

The challenge was clear, and Agatha hated how easily it got under her skin. Against her better judgment, she followed Rio out of the conference room.

**

Thirty minutes later, Agatha found herself in a small, bustling café on the edge of the district. It was the kind of place she rarely had time to visit—a far cry from the formal settings she usually inhabited. The smell of freshly brewed coffee mingled with the hum of conversation, and the walls were adorned with mismatched art.
Rio led her to a corner table and ordered two black coffees before sitting across from her.

Agatha glanced around, her discomfort palpable. “What exactly is the point of this?”

“The point,” Rio said, leaning back in her chair, “is to observe. This is where your voters are. Regular people, living their lives. If you want to connect with them, you need to understand them.”

“I understand them just fine,” Agatha said stiffly.

“No, you understand their problems,” Rio corrected. “Their struggles, their needs. But that’s not the same as understanding them. You’ve got to meet them where they are.”

Agatha frowned, looking down at her untouched coffee. “This feels contrived.”

Rio chuckled. “It’s only contrived if you treat it like a photo op. Relax. No cameras, no press. Just… observe.”

Agatha sighed, her shoulders relaxing slightly as she let her gaze wander around the café. A young woman in a hoodie typed furiously on a laptop in the corner. An older man read a newspaper at the counter, occasionally nodding to the barista. A group of teenagers huddled around a table, laughing over something on one of their phones.
It was mundane, yet oddly grounding.

Rio watched her closely, a small smile playing at her lips. “See? Not so bad.”

Agatha shot her a withering look. “Don’t gloat.”

“I wasn’t,” Rio said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “But since we’re here, let’s talk.”

“About what?”

“You,” Rio said simply. “The real you. Not this polished version.” She said, as she gestured over Agatha’s figure.

Agatha’s defenses went up immediately. “I’m not here to discuss my personal life.”

“That’s a shame,” Rio said, taking a sip of her coffee. “Because that’s what people care about. They want to know what drives you, what scares you, what makes you tick.”

“What scares me,” Agatha repeated dryly. “What a novel campaign strategy.”

Rio shrugged. “Call it whatever you want. But the more human you seem, the more people will trust you. And trust wins elections.”

Agatha didn’t respond, her expression unreadable.

Rio leaned forward, her tone softening. “Look, I get it. You’ve spent your whole career building this perfect image. But perfection doesn’t inspire people. Vulnerability does. Let them see the cracks, and they’ll believe you’re fighting for them because you’ve been where they are.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t argue.

**

After the café, Rio dragged Agatha to a local library. It was quiet, with only a few patrons scattered among the shelves.

“Why are we here?” Agatha asked as Rio led her to a display near the entrance.

“This,” Rio said, gesturing to the bulletin board covered in flyers and announcements. “This is what people care about. Community events, volunteer opportunities, book clubs. You want to connect with them? Start here.”

Agatha scanned the board, her eyes lingering on a flyer for a food drive.

Rio watched her, noting the subtle shift in her expression. “When was the last time you did something like this? No cameras, no speeches. Just… showed up.”

Agatha hesitated, then admitted, “It’s been a while.”

Rio nodded. “Then maybe it’s time to change that.”

Agatha didn’t respond, but something about the simplicity of the idea resonated with her.

**

By the time they returned to the campaign headquarters, it was late afternoon. Agatha was exhausted, but there was a strange clarity in her mind—a sense of purpose she hadn’t felt in a while.
Rio walked beside her, hands in her jacket pockets, her expression unreadable.

“You did good today,” Rio said.

Agatha scoffed. “I barely did anything.”

“Exactly,” Rio said, her grin returning. “And sometimes, that’s the point.”

Agatha walked briskly down the sidewalk, her heels clicking against the concrete. Rio strolled beside her, hands still shoved into her jacket pockets, her entire posture radiating a careless ease that grated on Agatha’s nerves.

It wasn’t just the way Rio walked—it was everything about her. The casual confidence, the unpolished demeanor, the way she seemed to disregard every unspoken rule of decorum that Agatha lived by.

As if none of it mattered.

It was infuriating.

And yet, Agatha couldn’t help but notice the way people glanced at Rio as they passed. A young couple smiled at her. An older woman gave her a nod of recognition. Even the barista from the café had lit up at her approach, like Rio carried some kind of gravitational pull that drew people in.

Agatha, on the other hand, elicited tight smiles and quick glances. Respect, perhaps. Deference, certainly. But never ease.

Her gaze flicked to Rio’s outfit—denim jeans, scuffed boots, and a black jacket that looked like it had seen better days. It was a stark contrast to Agatha’s tailored suit and neatly pressed blouse, and for a brief, maddening moment, she wondered if that was part of the appeal.

But then Rio shoved her hands deeper into her pockets and slouched slightly as they waited for a crosswalk light to change. Agatha’s irritation flared.

“You could try looking like you belong here,” Agatha said sharply, nodding toward a group of business professionals who stood nearby, all dressed in sleek suits and polished shoes.

Rio raised an eyebrow. “I didn’t realize there was a dress code for walking down the street.”

“There’s a dress code for everything,” Agatha muttered.

Rio chuckled. “Ah, there’s the real Harkness. You should think about not caring so much about those things -”

Agatha shot her a withering look, interrupting her “If you’re going to be part of this campaign, you’ll need to make some adjustments.”

“Adjustments,” Rio repeated, her tone laced with amusement. “Like what? Should I start carrying a briefcase and power-walking everywhere?”

“No,” Agatha said, stepping off the curb as the light changed. “But you could start by wearing clothes that don’t look like they were stolen from a garage sale.”

Rio’s laugh was loud enough to draw a few curious glances. “Wow. Tell me how you really feel, Congresswoman.”

“I’m serious,” Agatha said, quickening her pace. “You’re representing me now, whether you like it or not. And if you insist on dragging me through cafés and libraries, the least you can do is look presentable while doing it.”

“Presentable,” Rio said, her grin widening. “You mean boring. Buttoned-up. Polished to within an inch of my life.”

“I mean professional,” Agatha snapped.

Rio hummed thoughtfully, as if considering the idea. “Okay, fine. But only if you’re willing to make a deal.”

Agatha stopped abruptly, turning to face her. “A deal?”

“Yeah,” Rio said, her grin turning mischievous. “If I have to suffer through wearing one of your fancy suits, you’ve got to do something for me. Something outside your comfort zone.”

Agatha crossed her arms, eyeing Rio warily. “What, exactly, did you have in mind?”

Rio shrugged. “I don’t know yet. But I’ll think of something.”

Agatha hesitated, weighing her options. She hated the idea of giving Rio any leverage over her, but the thought of parading around with someone who looked like they belonged in a dive bar was even worse.

“Fine,” she said finally. “But don’t push your luck.”

Rio’s grin widened. “Deal.”

**

An hour later, Agatha and Rio stood in a high-end department store, surrounded by racks of tailored suits, silk blouses, and designer accessories.
Rio looked deeply out of place, her expression caught between amusement and mild horror as she flipped through a rack of jackets. “Do people actually wear this stuff?”

“People who take themselves seriously do,” Agatha said, already scanning a nearby display for options. She pulled a sleek black blazer off the rack and held it up. “Try this.”

Rio stared at the blazer like it might bite her. “I’m not wearing that.”

“You said you’d cooperate,” Agatha reminded her, thrusting the blazer into her hands “Go. Try it on” leaving no room for discussion.

Rio sighed dramatically but took the blazer, disappearing into the fitting room. Agatha used the brief reprieve to select a few more pieces—crisp white shirts, tailored trousers, and a pair of leather loafers that she suspected Rio would despise.

When Rio emerged, wearing the blazer over her t-shirt and jeans, Agatha gave her a once-over.

“It’s a start,” she said, handing her a pair of trousers. “Now try these.”

“This is starting to feel like a makeover montage,” Rio muttered, but she took the trousers and disappeared again.

Agatha allowed herself a small, satisfied smile.

When Rio got out of the dressing room she didn’t even look the same. She came out adjusting her blazer and Agatha noticed that she wasn’t wearing anything under it. Her eyes lingered more than they should. Her skin exposed and a bit of clavicle slightly showing. Agatha shallowed in dry.

“You could have asked for a shirt” Agatha said, turning her eyes away for Rio’s cleavage.

“Well, since you’re the one calling the shots here, I figured you only wanted me to wear this” she smirked “You could have thrown me a shirt.”

Agatha rolled her eyes. “Here” she hands her a white shirt she was holding.

“Hmmm, I think I’ll pass.” Rio turns to the outside mirror as she adjusts the collar of the blazer. She looks at Agatha through the reflection “I think this suits me just fine as it is”. Her hands drip slowly through the fabric, stopping just right above her chest.

Agatha doesn’t respond, she seems hypnotized by Rio’s hands.

“Don’t you think?” Rio ask and that snaps Agatha off her daydreaming.

“Yes - Hum - Sure.”

Rio lifts her eyebrow and turns to Agatha. She senses some type of tension in the air. But that couldn’t be real, she thinks. Agatha is not even into women. She shoves that feeling away and walks past Agatha.

“Well, this is settled, I’m gonna change”

“You’re only taking one suit?” Agatha asks, still froze in place.

“I’ll leave the rest to you. You can send it to my address. I don’t have the patience to choose.” Rio says, already from the inside of the dressing room.

Agatha can listen to her clothes coming off. She doesn’t even respond. She takes a step back and then decides to walk back to the rest of the store.

**

By the time they left the store, Rio was carrying several bags of new clothes, her expression a mix of resignation and begrudging amusement. Agatha figured she would chose more suits for Rio, just like that one the tried, but in different colors. That would spare her the embarrassment of sending a package to Rio’s place - like it’s some kind of love letter.

“I hope you’re happy,” Rio said as they stepped back onto the street. “You just turned me into a corporate drone.”

Agatha smirked. “Hardly. But at least now you’ll look like someone worth taking seriously.”

Rio shot her a sideways glance. “You know, for someone who’s all about connecting with the ‘real’ me, you’re awfully invested in appearances.”

“This isn’t about you,” Agatha said smoothly. “It’s about the campaign. And if I have to endure your unconventional methods, then you’ll endure mine. Consider it an even trade.”

Rio laughed, the sound light and genuine. “Fair enough, Congresswoman. Fair enough.”

As they continued walking, Agatha couldn’t shake the feeling that, for all her protests, she didn’t entirely mind Rio’s presence. There was something oddly refreshing about her straightforwardness, even if it was infuriating at times.

But she’d never admit that out loud.

**

Already back home, Agatha sank into her favorite armchair, the dim lighting of her living room casting long shadows across the polished wood floors. A half-empty glass of wine rested on the side table, its deep red hue reflecting faintly in the light.

The day had been exhausting—mentally, emotionally, and, thanks to Rio Vidal, unexpectedly amusing in ways Agatha wasn’t entirely prepared to admit.

She exhaled slowly and picked up her tablet, intending to review notes from her campaign team. But as her fingers hovered over the screen, her thoughts drifted back to Rio.

Rio Vidal, with her insufferable smirks and maddening confidence. Rio Vidal, who had somehow wormed her way into a campaign she had no business being part of.

Agatha hesitated, then typed Rio’s name into the search bar.

Her initial scroll revealed little more than professional profiles and mentions of her work in nonprofit campaigns. Agatha skimmed a few headlines, her curiosity growing.

"Rio Vidal: Advocate for Community Change," one article read, detailing her efforts in organizing local initiatives to support underprivileged neighborhoods.

"The Maverick Consultant Behind Last Year’s Education Reform Campaign."

Agatha frowned. It was all… surprisingly impressive.

But then, further down the page, a headline caught her attention:

"Pride and Protest: Rio Vidal Leads the Charge at LGBTQ+ Equality March."

Her brow furrowed as she clicked on the link.

The article opened with a vibrant photo of Rio at the front of a massive crowd, her fist raised high, her expression fierce and determined. Behind her, a sea of people held signs and waved rainbow flags, their chants captured in the accompanying video clip.

Agatha’s eyes scanned the text:

*"At last year’s annual LGBTQ+ Equality March, Rio Vidal emerged as a prominent voice for change, leading the front line with her characteristic passion and tenacity. The march, which drew tens of thousands of attendees, was a response to proposed legislation that threatened to roll back anti-discrimination protections for queer individuals.
Vidal, who has long been a vocal advocate for LGBTQ+ rights, addressed the crowd with an impassioned speech that quickly went viral. ‘This isn’t just about laws,’ she declared. ‘It’s about the lives these laws impact—our lives, our families, our futures. We’re not going back.’
Her leadership during the march cemented her reputation as a fearless activist and a staunch defender of equality, earning both praise and criticism in equal measure.”*

The article continued, citing quotes from attendees and other activists. But Agatha’s focus lingered on the image of Rio, her intensity practically radiating from the screen.
She set the tablet down and took a sip of wine, her mind racing.

It wasn’t the fact that Rio had led the march that unsettled her—it was the clarity of her conviction, the raw power of someone unafraid to stand up and say exactly who she was.

Agatha, by contrast, had spent years carefully constructing a version of herself that was palatable to everyone and personal to no one. Her success depended on control, on never showing too much of her hand.

She glanced back at the screen, at Rio’s raised fist and unwavering gaze.

It was ridiculous, she told herself. She had no reason to feel threatened by Rio Vidal. And yet, the image lingered in her mind, stirring something she couldn’t quite name.

Agatha took another sip of wine, trying to shake the feeling.

The woman was insufferable, after all. Infuriating. Impossible.

She reminded herself of the first time they exchanged words.

**

Flashback

Two years earlier.

The grand ballroom of the Hilton shimmered with opulence, all gold accents and chandeliers that cast warm, flattering light over the assembled crowd. It was a fundraiser—a high-profile event meant to rally support for various social justice causes. Politicians, activists, and donors mingled over cocktails and hors d’oeuvres, their conversations a careful dance of networking and subtle one-upmanship.

Congresswoman Harkness stood near the back of the room, a glass of champagne in hand. She was here, as always, out of necessity. The event had been well-attended by influential figures, and she’d already had her fill of polite small talk with donors eager to push their agendas.

It was nearly time to leave. She’d made her rounds, shaken enough hands, and delivered her expected remarks about “unity” and “progress.” She was about to slip out when a voice stopped her.

“Congresswoman Harkness.”

She turned to see a young woman standing a few feet away, her sharp, piercing gaze cutting through the superficial charm that filled the room.

Rio Vidal.

Agatha didn’t recognize her at first, but she quickly took in the details: a sleek black dress, the understated confidence in her stance, the hint of defiance in her smirk. She was someone who didn’t care for pretense—and someone who was clearly about to make herself known.

“Yes?” Agatha said coolly, her professional smile sliding into place.

Rio stepped closer, her voice calm but firm. “I wanted to ask you about your support—or lack thereof—for the Equality in Education Act.”

Agatha stiffened slightly. The Equality in Education Act was controversial, a bill aimed at ensuring that LGBTQ+ issues were represented in public school curriculums. Agatha had made a calculated decision to stay neutral, offering vague statements of “support for equitable education” while avoiding direct endorsements.

“The bill is still in committee,” Agatha replied, keeping her tone even. “I’ve been monitoring its progress closely.”

“Monitoring isn’t the same as supporting,” Rio shot back.

Agatha’s smile faltered. “It’s a complex issue. My office is working to ensure that all perspectives are considered—”

“Right,” Rio interrupted, her tone sharp. “Because what we really need are more ‘perspectives’ on whether queer kids deserve to see themselves represented in schools.”

Several heads turned at the rising tension in their voices, but Rio didn’t seem to care.

“Do you know what it’s like, Congresswoman?” Rio continued. “To grow up never seeing yourself in the history books? To sit in classrooms where your existence isn’t even acknowledged?”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. “This isn’t the time or place—”

“It’s exactly the time and place,” Rio said, stepping closer. “You’re standing here, giving speeches about progress and inclusivity, but when it comes to actually making a difference, you’re silent. People like me don’t need your platitudes, Harkness. We need action.”

Agatha felt the heat rising in her cheeks, a mixture of anger and embarrassment. She wasn’t used to being called out so publicly, and certainly not by someone so young, so brazen.

“I appreciate your passion,” Agatha said, her voice icy. “But these things take time. Change doesn’t happen overnight.”

Rio’s laugh was bitter. “Spoken like someone who’s never had to wait for change to decide if they deserve basic rights.”

The words landed with a force that left Agatha momentarily speechless.

Rio took a step back, her eyes still locked on Agatha’s. “You can talk about unity all you want, but until you actually stand up for something, you’re just another politician playing it safe.”

And with that, Rio turned and walked away, leaving Agatha standing alone in the glittering ballroom, her polished exterior shaken for the first time in years.

Flashback ends

**

Agatha blinked, her gaze shifting back to the present. The glow of her tablet screen illuminated the quiet corners of her living room, but she barely noticed it. The memory of Rio at the gala lingered in her mind like a stubborn shadow, each word, each piercing glare, replaying with vivid clarity.

She leaned back in her chair, staring into the half-empty glass of wine on the table.

It wasn’t just the confrontation that had stayed with her all these years. Agatha had endured public criticisms before; she had faced protests, accusations, and far worse. Yet something about Rio had cut deeper.

Her passion. Her conviction. Her freedom.

Agatha exhaled sharply, running a hand through her hair.

Freedom

That was the word that gnawed at her, the one she could never fully wrestle into submission. It wasn’t just Rio’s words that had shaken her at the gala—it was the way she carried herself. The way she spoke, unashamed and unapologetic, unafraid of the consequences.

It was everything Agatha had spent her entire life suppressing.

Her family’s expectations had been clear from the moment she could walk: she was a Harkness, and Harknesses didn’t falter. They were strong. Composed. Controlled.

They certainly didn’t have doubts. Or questions. Or… curiosities.

Agatha reached for her glass, taking a long sip of wine. Somewhere, deep in the recesses of her mind, a familiar voice whispered: You know how it feels to hide.

Her throat tightened. She hated that voice.

But it wasn’t wrong. She did know.

She knew what it was like to tuck pieces of herself away, to let them gather dust in the farthest corners of her heart. She knew what it was like to feel a pull—a fleeting glance that lingered too long, a spark of intrigue she could never let herself explore.

And she knew what it was like to push it all down, to pretend it didn’t exist.

She’d been pretending for so long that she wasn’t even sure what was real anymore.

Her fingers tightened around the glass as her mind drifted back to Rio, to that night at the gala. She’d hated Rio then—still did, if she was honest with herself—but the hatred had always been tangled with something else.

Jealousy

Agatha set her glass down with a soft clink, the realization settling over her like a weight. She envied Rio. Envied her boldness, her refusal to be anything less than who she was.
In another life, perhaps, Agatha could have been the same. She could have walked through the world without fear of judgment, without the crushing burden of her family’s legacy. She could have pursued those fleeting sparks of curiosity instead of extinguishing them.

But she wasn’t built for that life.

She’d spent decades perfecting the mask she wore, and it wasn’t one she could take off easily—not even in the privacy of her own home.

Agatha sighed and picked up her tablet again. She stared at the image of Rio leading the protest, her fist raised high, her expression fierce and determined.

Rio didn’t just live her truth—she flaunted it. And for that, Agatha resented her.

Because deep down, Agatha knew that no matter how much she hated Rio, part of her also longed to be her.

And that was a truth she wasn’t ready to face.

Chapter Text

A week passed, but it felt like a lifetime.

Rio’s arrival had injected chaos into Agatha’s campaign - her ideas unorthodox, her methods erratic, her presence impossible to ignore. Every day was a tug-of-war between Agatha’s strict adherence to order and Rio’s insistence on pushing boundaries.

For the most part, Agatha managed to keep her frustration simmering just beneath the surface. But today was different. Today, Rio had managed to find her last nerve and pluck it clean.

Agatha strode into the campaign office, her heels clicking sharply against the tile floor. She held a stack of papers in one hand, her posture rigid with controlled anger.

“Vidal,” she snapped, scanning the room.

Rio was seated at the edge of a cluttered table, casually scrolling through her phone. She looked up, unbothered, a smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. “Morning, boss. What’s got you in a twist this time?”

Agatha’s nostrils flared as she dropped the papers onto the table in front of Rio. “What is this?”

Rio glanced at the papers, her expression unreadable. “Looks like a draft for tomorrow’s rally speech. You’re welcome.”

“This is not the speech I approved,” Agatha said, her voice tight.

“Of course it’s not,” Rio replied, leaning back in her chair. “The one you approved was lifeless. You want to inspire people, not bore them to tears.”

Agatha’s jaw clenched. “My speech was focused and professional. This—” She gestured to the papers. “This reads like a reality TV audition.”

“Maybe because reality is what people care about,” Rio shot back, crossing her arms. “You’ve got the charisma of a stone, Harkness. Letting people see a little humanity wouldn’t kill you.”

The room grew quiet as the staff around them pretended not to listen. Agatha’s icy glare swept across the room, and the team quickly scattered, leaving her and Rio alone.

Agatha leaned over the table, her voice low and dangerous. “You don’t get to rewrite my words, Vidal. This is my campaign, not yours.”

Rio didn’t flinch. If anything, she looked amused. “Right. Your campaign. The one that’s been tanking for months because you’re too scared to take a real stand on anything.”

Agatha’s hand slammed down onto the table, startling them both. For a moment, the air crackled with tension.
“You don’t know anything about me,” Agatha hissed.

“I know enough,” Rio replied, her voice calmer now, almost pitying. “You’re so worried about what people think of you that you’re willing to play it safe at the expense of the people you claim to fight for.”

Agatha straightened, her expression hardening into a mask of cold indifference. “You’re walking a very fine line, Vidal.”

Rio shrugged. “Good thing I’m great at balancing.”

They stared at each other for a long moment, the silence thick with unspoken words.

Finally, Agatha stepped back, smoothing the front of her blazer. “Fix it,” she said curtly, turning on her heel. “And next time, don’t bother improvising.”

Rio watched her leave, her smirk fading into something more thoughtful.

Agatha stormed into her private office, slamming the door behind her. She paced the room, her thoughts racing. How had Rio managed to get under her skin so quickly? She was supposed to be in control, the steady hand guiding the ship.

But Rio had a way of making her feel unmoored, like every carefully constructed wall she’d built around herself was paper-thin in the face of her relentless confidence.

She sank into her chair and rubbed her temples. This wasn’t sustainable. She couldn’t keep letting Rio bait her like this.

And yet, a small part of her couldn’t deny the truth in Rio’s words.

Her speeches had been lacking. Her campaign was losing momentum. And deep down, she knew that Rio’s ideas—however infuriating—had a spark of genius that her polished strategies couldn’t replicate.

But admitting that would mean ceding control. And Agatha Harkness didn’t cede control to anyone.

Agatha barely had a moment to breathe after slamming the door before it flew open again.

Rio stepped in, unapologetic as ever, the door swinging shut behind her. “You know,” she began, her voice calm but laced with that signature edge, “you really should try yoga or something. All that tension can’t be good for your blood pressure.”

Agatha didn’t bother looking up from her desk. “I don’t recall inviting you in.”

“And I don’t recall caring.” Rio crossed the room and perched herself on the edge of Agatha’s desk, her casualness a deliberate act of defiance. “We need to talk.”

“I said everything I needed to say out there,” Agatha replied coldly. “The speech will be corrected. End of discussion.”

Rio scoffed. “You mean you’ll drain every ounce of life out of it until it’s just another forgettable stump speech? Is this really how you see yourself?”

Agatha’s eyes snapped up, her irritation flaring again. “I don’t need a lecture from someone who thinks every problem can be solved with a catchy slogan and a flashy headline.”

“No,” Rio said, leaning closer, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “What you need is to stop being so damn scared.”

Agatha froze, the words hitting her like a slap. “Excuse me?”

“You heard me,” Rio said, her gaze steady “You’re scared, Agatha. You’re so afraid of showing people who you really are that you’re willing to put out watered-down nonsense just to stay in your comfort zone.”

“That’s not fear,” Agatha snapped. “It’s strategy. Something you clearly don’t understand.”

Rio tilted her head, a faint smile playing at her lips. “Strategy? That’s what you’re calling it? Because from where I’m standing, it looks a lot like hiding.”

The room fell silent, the tension thick enough to choke on.
Agatha’s hands clenched into fists in her lap, but she didn’t respond. She couldn’t.

Rio leaned back slightly, watching her closely. “That’s the problem with you, Harkness. You’re so busy trying to control the narrative that you’ve forgotten what it’s like to actually connect with people. You think voters want polished and perfect? They don’t. They want real. And if you can’t give them that, you’re going to lose. Plain and simple.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, her mask of indifference slipping just enough to reveal a flicker of vulnerability. “I don’t need you to tell me how to do my job.”

Rio studied her for a long moment, her expression softening ever so slightly. “Maybe not,” she said quietly. “But if you keep going the way you are, you’re going to lose more than this campaign.”

Something in her tone made Agatha look up.
Rio’s gaze was steady, almost gentle, and for a brief moment, Agatha felt exposed in a way she hadn’t since...

She quickly pushed the thought away, straightening in her chair. “If you’re done psychoanalyzing me, I have work to do.”

Rio sighed and stood, stepping away from the desk. But as she reached the door, she paused and glanced back.

“Just think about it, Agatha,” she said softly.

“You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be human.” And with that, she left, closing the door behind her.

Agatha sat in silence, Rio’s words echoing in her mind.

You’re scared.

She let out a shaky breath, her carefully constructed walls trembling ever so slightly.

What frightened her more than Rio’s audacity was the gnawing realization that she might be right.

**

Rio shut Agatha’s office door behind her, leaning against it for a moment. Her pulse still hummed from the confrontation, though she kept her face neutral as staff members glanced her way.

Agatha Harkness was infuriating—closed-off, stubborn, and impossible to read. Every time Rio thought she’d made a crack in that icy exterior, the woman rebuilt her walls twice as high.

And yet, Rio couldn’t bring herself to walk away from this fight.

She adjusted her blazer and began weaving through the bustling campaign office. The room buzzed with activity—phones ringing, staffers hunched over laptops, posters being stacked and sorted. All around her were reminders of the stakes, of why she was here.

But her mind wasn’t on the campaign. It was back in that office, replaying the way Agatha’s jaw had tightened, her voice had cracked ever so slightly under the weight of Rio’s words.

She’d hit a nerve. She was sure of it.

Rio grabbed a cup of coffee from the station near the back and leaned against the counter, taking a moment to gather her thoughts.

Agatha wasn’t just uptight. She wasn’t just a perfectionist. There was something deeper there—something raw and painful that Agatha clearly didn’t want anyone to see.

Rio took a sip of the bitter coffee and stared out the window.

She’d been around politicians like Agatha before. People who treated vulnerability like a four-letter word. People who wore their polished personas like armor, so terrified of being seen as anything less than perfect.

But Agatha was different. There was something about her that Rio couldn’t quite figure out. Something that made her want to dig deeper, even when every interaction felt like pulling teeth.

Rio sighed, setting the coffee down. “What are you even doing here, Vidal?” she muttered to herself.

She could have walked away from this campaign. Should have, if she’d had any sense. But instead, she’d let Alice—and, by extension, Lilia—talk her into this mess.

And now, here she was, sparring with a woman who barely tolerated her existence, all while trying to salvage a campaign that felt like it was being held together with duct tape and hope.

She glanced back toward Agatha’s office, her brow furrowing.

There was something about that woman that tugged at her. It wasn’t admiration—God, no. But it wasn’t just frustration, either.

Agatha reminded her of someone. Someone she used to be.

Rio shook her head and pushed off the counter. She didn’t have time to psychoanalyze Agatha Harkness, no matter how tempting it was.

But as she walked back to her desk, one thought lingered in her mind:

Whatever Agatha was hiding, it wasn’t just about politics. And Rio was going to figure out what it was—even if it killed her.

**

The air in the campaign office was stifling that evening, heavy with the scent of burnt coffee and the tension that had been simmering between Agatha and Rio since day one. Most of the team had gone home, their desks empty save for a few forgotten mugs and scattered papers.

Agatha sat at her desk, flipping through drafts of tomorrow’s press release. She hadn’t spoken to Rio since their earlier spat, though the memory of it lingered like the aftertaste of sour wine.

Her door opened without warning, and she didn’t need to look up to know who it was. Only one person in the building had the audacity to barge in uninvited.

“What now, Vidal?” Agatha muttered, keeping her eyes on the papers in front of her.

Rio closed the door behind her, her movements calm and deliberate. “Relax. I’m not here to start another fight.”

“That would be a first,” Agatha said dryly.

Rio ignored the jab and leaned against the edge of Agatha’s desk, her arms crossed. “I was going over the numbers. The rally tomorrow is bigger than we expected. Media outlets are picking it up. If we handle it right, it could actually make a difference.”

Agatha glanced up, her expression unreadable. “And by ‘handle it right,’ you mean I should let you rewrite my speech again?”

“I’m not touching your speech,” Rio said, surprising her. “You can deliver it exactly as is.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow, suspicious. “No critiques? No unsolicited advice? That’s shockingly restrained of you.”

Rio smirked, the corner of her mouth twitching upward in that infuriating way that made Agatha’s blood boil. “Oh, I’ve got critiques. But you’ve made it very clear you’re not interested in hearing them.”

Agatha set the papers down, folding her hands neatly on her desk. “If you’re not here to fight or meddle, then why are you here?”

Rio’s smirk faded, and for a moment, her expression softened. “Because this is important. Tomorrow isn’t just another event, Agatha. It’s a chance to show people who you really are. Not the polished version. Not the ‘Harkness legacy’ version. You.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. “I don’t need a lecture on authenticity, Vidal.”

“No, you need a reality check,” Rio shot back, her voice sharpening. “Do you even know how much easier your life would be if you just let people in? If you stopped pretending to be this perfect, unflappable statue?”

Agatha stood, her chair scraping against the floor as she braced her hands on the desk. “I don’t have the luxury of being ‘real,’” she said, her voice low and steely. “Not everyone gets to live as freely as you do, Vidal. Some of us have expectations to meet. Legacies to uphold.”

Rio took a step closer, the heat between them palpable now. “You think I don’t get it? You think I’ve never felt the weight of other people’s expectations? Don’t confuse freedom with ease, Agatha. They’re not the same thing.”

Their eyes locked, and for a moment, the tension was unbearable.

Agatha could feel her pulse in her throat, her breathing shallow. Rio was too close, her presence overwhelming, and yet she couldn’t bring herself to step back.

“Why do you care so much?” Agatha asked, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rio hesitated, the question hanging in the air between them. Then, with a quiet intensity that sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine, she said, “Because I see you, Agatha. And I think you hate that.”

Agatha’s breath caught, but she quickly masked it with a sharp inhale. She stepped back, putting the desk between them like a shield.

“This conversation is over,” she said, her voice cold and final.

Rio didn’t move at first, her eyes still locked on Agatha’s, searching for something she wouldn’t find. Then she nodded once, stepping away from the desk.

“Good night, Harkness,” she said softly, her tone unreadable.

When the door clicked shut behind her, Agatha sat back down, her hands trembling slightly.

She didn’t know what infuriated her more: Rio’s audacity, or the way her words lingered, digging into places Agatha didn’t want to explore.

For the first time in years, she felt exposed.

And she hated it.

Fuck.

Chapter Text

The rally was electric. A sea of people filled the square, their voices rising like a tidal wave as they chanted Agatha’s name. The podium stood at the center, illuminated by powerful spotlights that cut through the crisp evening air. The campaign’s colors—rich blues and whites—were everywhere, on banners, hats, and glowing signs held aloft by supporters.

From the makeshift green room behind the stage, Agatha could see it all. The crowd. The cameras. The weight of the moment. She smoothed her blazer for the third time, her fingers trembling just enough to irritate her.

Jen Kale was pacing near the entrance, barking final instructions into her headset. Lilia, resplendent in a tailored coat and dripping with pearls—was chatting with a few local business leaders, her sharp eyes occasionally flicking to Agatha.

And then there was Rio.

She was leaning against a table near the coffee station, arms crossed, looking infuriatingly unbothered. She wasn’t wearing anything flashy, but her presence commanded the room as though she were the one taking the stage. She caught Agatha’s eye for a brief second, and though she didn’t move, her gaze sent a jolt straight through Agatha’s carefully constructed composure.

Agatha turned back toward the window, taking a deep breath. She could do this. She had done this a thousand times before.

“Ready?” Jen’s voice cut through her thoughts.

“As ready as I’ll ever be,” Agatha replied, her voice steady despite the storm inside her.

Jen nodded and stepped away, barking something about the teleprompter.

Agatha glanced at her notes, though she knew the speech by heart. It was a good speech. Safe, polished, and exactly what her campaign needed.

So why did it feel so hollow?

Rio’s words from a week ago slithered into her mind: “You don’t have to be perfect. You just have to be human.”

She shook her head, trying to banish the thought. This wasn’t the time for introspection. She had a rally to win.

Lilia approached, her sharp smile making Agatha straighten instinctively. “They’re ready for you out there,” she said, her tone warm but with an edge of command. “Make us proud.”

Agatha nodded, giving a small, practiced smile.

As Lilia moved on, Rio appeared beside her, silent as a shadow.
“You nervous?” Rio asked, her tone casual, but her eyes were sharp.

“No,” Agatha said curtly, smoothing her blazer again.

“You’re lying,” Rio said softly, but there was no malice in her voice. Just that maddening, knowing tone.

Agatha turned to her, her irritation bubbling to the surface. “What do you want, Vidal?”

Rio shrugged. “Nothing. Just thought I’d say good luck.”

Agatha narrowed her eyes. “Since when do you care about my luck?”

Rio smirked, leaning closer just enough to make Agatha’s breath hitch. “I don’t. But I care about this rally, and you’re the one holding the microphone.”

Before Agatha could respond, Jen called her name. It was time.

The crowd roared as Agatha stepped onto the stage, the sound a physical force that seemed to push against her. She gripped the edges of the podium, her speech notes sitting neatly in front of her, the teleprompter glowing with perfectly curated words.

For a moment, she felt untouchable. The spotlight, the cheers, the power—it was everything she had worked for. Everything she had been taught to value.

But as she opened her mouth to begin, her eyes flicked to the side of the stage.

There was Rio, leaning against the scaffolding, arms crossed and watching her with that infuriatingly calm expression.

Agatha looked back at the crowd, her heart pounding.

The speech began to feel heavier in her hands, the words on the teleprompter blurring together. Her mind buzzed with Rio’s voice, her earlier words echoing in her ears.

“You think voters want polished and perfect? They don’t. They want real.”

She swallowed hard, her hands tightening on the edges of the podium. The silence stretched, the crowd murmuring in confusion as she hesitated.
And then, against every instinct, she looked up and set her notes aside.

The crowd quieted instantly.

“Good evening,” she began, her voice steadier than she expected. “I had a speech prepared tonight. A good one. It talked about our campaign’s policies, our vision, and the future we want to build together."

A ripple of murmurs spread through the audience, but she pressed on.

“But the truth is... none of that matters if you don’t know who I am. If you don’t know what drives me.”

Her words were unpolished, her delivery imperfect. But the energy in the square shifted, the crowd leaning in as though they could feel the shift too.

From the corner of her eye, she saw Rio straighten, her expression unreadable.

Agatha spoke from the heart, pulling from memories she hadn’t dared to touch in years. She talked about her family’s legacy, about the expectations that had shaped her and the people she wanted to fight for.

By the time she finished, the crowd erupted into cheers, louder than before.

Agatha stepped back from the podium, her chest heaving. The adrenaline coursed through her veins, but so did something else.

Relief.

As she walked off the stage, Rio was there, waiting for her.

“That,” Rio said, her voice low and almost... approving, “was human.”

Agatha didn’t respond, but the faintest hint of a smile tugged at her lips.

It wasn’t perfect.

But maybe, for once, it didn’t have to be.

She let out a breath she didn’t even realize she was holding.

**

She’s now back in the room where the team was settled.

The rally was a resounding success. Agatha could feel the energy shift, a buzz of excitement and momentum building in the wake of her uncharacteristic speech. The crowd had connected with her, in a way that was more authentic—raw, even—than anything she had delivered before. It was exactly what Rio had been pushing for, though Agatha would never admit it aloud.

Now, standing offstage in the cool, quiet of the green room, the adrenaline was starting to wear off. Her hands still shook slightly, but she was doing her best to hide it.

Jen Kale had already gathered with the donors, still riding high from the success. Lilia approached Agatha with an approving smile, her voice low, but sharp.

“Well done, Agatha,” Lilia said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “The press will eat this up. The personal touch was exactly what we needed. You did good.”

Agatha nodded, but her mind was elsewhere. She had made the decision to veer from the script, to speak from the heart, and it had worked. But the price for that success was... unsettling. There was something about being that real, about sharing herself so openly, that had made her feel exposed. Vulnerable.

She heard footsteps approach before she saw the familiar figure.

Rio.

Fuck, is Rio everywhere?

She was standing just outside the door to the green room, leaning against the frame with her arms crossed. Her expression was unreadable, but Agatha could feel her eyes cutting through the room, landing squarely on her.

For a long moment, neither of them said anything.

“Great speech,” Rio said finally, her tone measured. “You got people to listen, Agatha. It felt... real.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. She couldn’t decide if that was a compliment or a challenge.

“Don’t read too much into it,” Agatha replied, her voice hard, though there was a trace of doubt creeping into the edges. “It was just a speech.”

“A speech?” Rio raised an eyebrow, stepping into the room now, her eyes scanning Agatha carefully. “If that was just a speech, then you should do it more often. It looked like you actually meant it.”

Agatha turned sharply, not wanting Rio to see how much the words affected her. She glanced back toward the crowd, though it was mostly dispersed now, the excitement of the rally already beginning to fade.

But Rio wasn’t done. She moved closer, her posture casual but her gaze unwavering.

“You know,” Rio began, her voice softer now, “I think you might hate how much you need that connection with people. With them, with me...”

Agatha spun around to face her, her emotions rising too quickly to hide. “What the hell are you talking about, Vidal?”

Rio didn’t flinch. “I think you hate being human. You hate that the moment you let your guard down, people start seeing you. Really seeing you.”

Agatha felt her breath tighten, the words landing like blows in the small space between them.

“I don’t need this from you,” she snapped, stepping back toward the table. She reached for her water bottle, needing something to calm the edge that was threatening to snap her focus. “I don’t need you giving me validation.”

Rio was still there, not moving, watching her with a knowing look in her eyes. “And yet, here we are.”

Agatha swallowed hard, keeping her back to Rio as she tried to regain control over her fraying composure. “You don’t know anything about me.”

“That’s where you’re wrong,” Rio replied softly, her tone almost... gentle. “I’ve been watching you for weeks now. I’ve seen how you avoid real connections. How you hide behind your politics and your image. I know exactly who you are.” Rio started walking towards Agatha, who in a fraction of a second turned her attention to Rio “Agatha. I see. Right. Through. You.” She shot.

Agatha gave a few steps back as Rio spit those words out, making her land on the edge of a table nearby. Rio kept waking towards her, in a very slow manner. Each step made Agatha… Well, she doesn’t even know how to feel. She felt like she was being hunted.

The words sent a chill down Agatha’s spine. It was as if Rio had peeled away all the layers she had so carefully constructed, exposing the raw parts of her she never wanted anyone to see.

Agatha, feeling her anger flaring up as she tried to regain control. “You think you know me, huh? You think you can just... read me like an open book?”

Rio didn’t flinch. “I don’t need to read you, Agatha. I just watch. And I listen.” She spit out, leaning a few inches closer to Agatha, that was still kind of seated at the edge of the table - her hands grabbing the wood firmly. Rio was pushing it.

The silence between them grew heavy. Agatha’s heart pounded in her chest as she struggled to keep her emotions locked away.

But Rio, that infuriating woman, was right. Every word Rio spoke stung because it was true. Agatha had been hiding behind her political persona for so long. She had buried the parts of herself that didn’t fit with the image of the woman she was expected to be.

And Rio—who seemed to see right through it—was the last person Agatha wanted to confront that with.

But then Rio did something unexpected. She stepped back, breaking the tension between them.

“You’re not perfect, Agatha,” Rio said quietly, her voice a stark contrast to the anger Agatha had been feeling moments before. “And I know that bothers you. But maybe that’s okay.”

Agatha opened her mouth to argue, to shut down whatever point Rio was trying to make, but the words caught in her throat.

For the first time, she didn’t have a response.

Instead, Rio simply turned and walked toward the door, pausing in the doorway. She glanced back, her eyes soft, but still holding a quiet challenge.

“If you ever need someone to talk to,” Rio said, her voice a bit warmer now, “you know where to find me.”

And with that, she was gone.

Agatha stood there for a long moment, the words still hanging in the air. Her chest going up and down in a few ragged breaths. The room was still, and Agatha felt the heavy weight of everything she had just heard. Everything she had been trying to ignore.

Her pulse was still racing. But not from anger. From something else.

Something deeper.

**

Rio hadn’t planned on pushing so far, but when Agatha snapped, she felt the sting of it all the way through her chest. It was almost like Agatha had taken every criticism she’d ever received, every moment she’d ever felt powerless, and poured it into that single sentence.

You think you know me, huh?

Rio had been about to fight back, to tell Agatha she was wrong, but the truth was—she didn’t know Agatha. Not really. She only knew the polished image of her. The woman who wore perfection like a mask. So maybe, just maybe, Rio had been projecting.

She leaned back against the wall in the corridor now, replaying the encounter in her mind. She should’ve walked away, but she couldn’t. There was something in Agatha’s words that rattled her, something she couldn’t shake. That fragile edge to Agatha’s voice. The uncertainty.

She had pushed Agatha too far. And yet, for a moment, she wondered if it had been exactly what Agatha needed.

The sound of the door opening behind her snapped Rio back to the present. She turned, expecting it to be Agatha again, but it wasn’t.
It was Alice.

Alice, Lilia’s niece, was an up-and-coming political consultant with a sharp mind and an eye for strategy. She was also the kind of person who didn’t mince words, and Rio liked her for it.

“Hey,” Alice said, her eyes scanning the corridor. “I was looking for you. I think we need to talk.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, pushing herself off the wall. “Talk about what?”

Alice’s gaze flicked toward the green room, then back to Rio. “About what just happened out there. With Agatha.”

Rio tensed. “What about it?”

Alice hesitated for a moment, then sighed. “You pushed her. You know that, right?”

Rio crossed her arms, trying to keep her composure. “Yeah, I know. But maybe she needed to be pushed.”

Alice was silent for a moment, then shook her head. “You know how much Agatha has riding on this campaign. You really think making her feel vulnerable in front of everyone is going to help?”

Rio scoffed. “She’s not some untouchable politician, Alice. She’s a person. She needs to stop hiding behind that damn mask.”

“I get that,” Alice said, her voice low but firm. “But Agatha doesn’t see it the same way. And the last thing we need is her retreating further into herself because of you.”

Rio’s jaw tightened. “I’m not here to coddle her. I’m here to get results.”

“I know,” Alice replied, her expression softening. “But sometimes, you have to give people space to figure things out. You’ve got a good heart, Rio. But with Agatha—” She paused, searching for the right words. “You have to be careful. She’s not like everyone else.”

Rio didn’t answer. She couldn’t. Part of her wanted to walk away, to let Agatha sort out her mess on her own, but the other part... the part that had watched Agatha struggle in that brief moment of vulnerability, the part that had seen the flicker of humanity behind the politician’s mask, refused to let it go.

“I know what I’m doing,” Rio finally said, her voice quieter now. “But I’m not going to pretend that I don’t see her. I’m not going to pretend she’s just another candidate.”

Alice didn’t reply immediately. She just studied Rio for a moment, her sharp gaze assessing. “Just... be careful,” she said at last. “I don’t think Agatha is as easy to reach as you think she is.”

Rio smiled, though it didn’t quite reach her eyes. “I never said she was easy.”

And as Alice left her standing there in the corridor, Rio couldn’t help but think about Agatha. About the way she’d looked at her on stage, about the way she held herself back, even when the crowd was cheering. The way the walls came down, just for a second—and how, just as quickly, Agatha had built them right back up.

Rio wasn’t done with her yet.

**

The rally had ended, and Agatha was back in the confines of her office, the cold silence of the room pressing against her like a weight. Her mind replayed the speech—the way she had opened herself up for the first time in front of an audience—and then Rio’s words, that damn unwarranted sympathy.

“You need someone to talk to... you know where to find me.”

It wasn’t just the words that annoyed her. It was the way Rio said them, like she knew exactly how to get under Agatha’s skin. Agatha hated that. She hated that Rio Vidal, of all people, had the ability to look right through her defenses and see something she wasn’t ready to admit.

With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed her phone, glancing at the notifications. There it was—a message from Rio.

“You think you have it all figured out, don’t you? You’re so used to being in control, Agatha. But you can’t keep pushing everything away. You’ll crack. You already are.”

The nerve. The fucking nerve.

Her hands tightened around the phone, her fingers itching to throw it across the room. She stared at the message for a few seconds longer, the weight of the words sinking in despite her better judgment. What did Rio think she was doing?Playing the hero? Trying to "fix" Agatha?

She was done with it.

Agatha’s reply was swift, the words almost snapping out of her as her fingers flew over the screen.

“You don’t know anything about me. You don’t get to judge me. I don’t need your pity or your unsolicited advice, Rio. Keep your distance.”

She hit send, her pulse racing. She didn’t care what Rio thought. She didn’t care if Rio thought she was broken or pretending.
It was just a message, right? Just words.

But a strange, gnawing feeling kept creeping into her chest. Agatha didn’t want to feel anything in response to Rio. And yet, the more she tried to push her away, the more she seemed to get tangled in

Rio’s presence.

The sound of a new message pinged on her phone, and Agatha’s stomach dropped. She didn’t need to read it. She could already hear Rio’s sarcastic tone in her head.

“Oh, don’t worry, Agatha. I’m not trying to fix you. I’m just tired of pretending I don’t see how messed up you are.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. She had never felt so... exposed, not even after all the years in the spotlight. Rio had the ability to peel back her layers, even with just a text.
But Agatha wasn’t going to let Rio win. She wasn’t going to let anyone see her—really see her.

She typed back quickly, this time her fingers shaking slightly.

“Don’t ever speak to me like that again. And if you want to keep pretending like you know me, then don’t. You don’t. You’ve seen nothing.”

There. That was better. Firm. Defiant. Agatha felt the sharp edge of the message as it slid through her phone screen. This would put Rio in her place.

Just as Agatha set the phone down on her desk with a flourish, her door slammed open with a violent crack.

Rio. Fucking Rio.

Agatha’s heart skipped a beat, but she held her ground.

“You really think you can just push me away like that?” Rio’s voice was low, but it was charged with something that made the room feel a few degrees hotter. “You’re full of shit, Agatha. You’re not as perfect as you want everyone to believe. You can’t hide behind that wall forever.”

Agatha stood, her fists clenched, but she didn’t let herself move toward Rio. She had the high ground, and she wasn’t about to lose it.

“I told you to keep your distance,” Agatha said, her voice sharp.

Rio stepped forward, not backing down. “Why? So you can continue pretending that nothing gets to you? That you don’t feel anything? You think I don’t know what you’re doing? You think I don’t see how hard you’re trying to push everyone away?”

“Get out of my office,” Agatha growled, but there was an edge of panic underneath it, something she couldn’t quite hide.

But Rio didn’t move. She was standing just close enough now, close enough for Agatha to feel the heat radiating off her.

“You’re scared, Agatha,” Rio said, her words like a knife. “You’re scared of being seen for who you really are.”

Agatha took a breath, her pulse hammering in her ears.

“I said, get out,” she repeated, but it was quieter this time. Weaker.

Rio smirked, but there was something in her gaze that held Agatha in place. “I’ll leave when you stop pretending you’ve got it all together. When you stop hiding behind that perfect, unbreakable facade you’ve built for yourself.”

“You have no idea what you’re talking about,” Agatha said, the words coming out harsher than she intended.

“Oh, I know exactly what I’m talking about,” Rio replied, her voice dropping. “You’re scared of being yourself. You’re scared of needing something or someone. And I’m done pretending that I don’t see it.”

The silence stretched between them, thick and taut. Agatha wanted to snap back, to tell Rio that she was wrong, that she wasn’t scared of anything. But deep down, Agatha knew that Rio wasn’t entirely wrong.
And that made her feel vulnerable in a way she couldn’t stand.

“I don’t need you, Rio,” Agatha finally spat, her voice dripping with venom.

Rio’s lips curved into something that was almost a grin. “Then why do you keep answering me?” she challenged. “Why are you still here, Agatha? If I’m so beneath you, if I’m just an inconvenience in your perfect little life, then why do you care so much?”

Agatha’s chest tightened, and for a moment, she was frozen. It was a truth she didn’t want to acknowledge, and yet it was so damn clear.

But instead of acknowledging it, she walked to the door, opened it, and stood in front of Rio, blocking her way.

“Leave. Now.”

Rio didn’t budge. “I’ll leave when you’re ready to stop lying to yourself.”

Agatha stared at her, every inch of her body screaming to push Rio out of her life—for good. But there was something in Rio’s eyes, something that dared her to take that next step. And that, more than anything else, made Agatha want to scream.

“Don’t forget your place, Rio,” Agatha whispered, her voice dangerously calm. “You’re just a consultant. And I’m your boss.”

Rio tilted her head slightly. “Yeah, for now,” she said, her voice tinged with something far more dangerous than anger. “But not for long.”

“If you want to get yourself fired, be my guest.” Agatha shot back.

“You know damn well what I’m talking about.”

With that, Rio finally stepped past her and left the room, leaving no space for Agatha to answer - it was just like she wanted those words to get stuck like glue in her mind.

Agatha goes back to her desk. She opens some drawer and takes off a bottle of whiskey.

She’s angry. I mean, is she?

She’s warm. She’s anxious. She feels like she could rip Rio’s head out. And her clothes, probably.

“Jesus Agatha, get it together” she mutters to herself as she pours one generous glass to herself.

Her right hand rests in her leg, the left one lifts the glass to her mouth. She grips the fabric of her trousers as she swallows the liquid in one take. She doesn’t even know if the warmth she’s feeling right now is from the toxicity of the whiskey - or from Rio’s previous presence.

She presses her legs together. A tingly sensation in between.

Fuck. That was definitely not the whiskey.

She puts the glass down. Her hand slipping to the middle of her legs, still resting above the fabric. She presses hard, just to feel the heat radiating from herself.

Agatha leans back in her chair. She lets out a long breath. Her hand moves to the zipper of her trousers.

She’s still in her office, she reminds herself. This is so wrong.

What if someone comes in?

Oh, fuck it.

She just needed to feel herself for a bit. Her hand slips to the inside of her pants, slowly - resting above the slim fabric of her underwear.

She’s fucking upset. Why is she even horny?

Agatha draws small circles over the fabric, feeling herself get even more turned on. Two fingers drive themselves over her clit, sliding up and down and smoothly moving over the slim fabric. She pushes her hand down.

Fuck. She’s so wet.

She keeps reminding herself of Rio’s words. The way she looks at her. The way she moves around. The way she almost pushed her against the table at the rally - Well, technically, Agatha pushed herself.

She fucking hates Rio.

“I hate you” She mutters, as she keeps touching herself. The movements faster now.

“Why do you have to be like this?” She says -to herself- feeling her cunt wetter and wetter. Two fingers keep moving over her underwear. She can’t take it anymore. She needs direct contact.

Her head falls back in the chair as she slides her underwear to side and touches her lips. Slowly.

One finger carefully caressing the folds and playing with her entrance.

“That bitch….”

Agatha moans as she pushes one finger inside. She looks at the ceiling.

Her other hand slides down and starts to touch her clit, while she now pushes two fingers inside. She can even hear the sound of how wet she is.

She comes fast.

And she comes cursing Rio’s name.

This was clearly some sort of hate hornyness. This is not real. She doesn’t feel anything for Rio.

She just used her anger towards her to fuel her own climax.

At least, this is what Agatha tells herself.

Chapter Text

Her breathing had finally steadied, but the heat in her face refused to fade. She leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling as if it held some kind of answer to the mess she had just made of herself.

What the hell is wrong with me?

She had never lost control like that before. Never allowed her emotions—her desires—to take over in such a reckless, unguarded way. And for Rio, of all people. The very thought made her cringe, even as her body betrayed her with a lingering hum of satisfaction.

Agatha groaned, dragging her hands down her face. She was disgusted with herself. No, worse—she was terrified. Terrified that Rio had wormed her way past Agatha’s carefully constructed walls, and terrified of what it meant that she had let her.

But there was no time to dwell on it. Not now. She had a campaign to win, a public image to uphold, and a team to manage—Rio included. Whatever had just happened here would stay locked in the depths of her own mind, buried under layers of denial and control.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, snapping her out of her spiral. She grabbed it quickly, half expecting another message from Rio.

But it wasn’t her.

It was Jen.

“We’ve got a meeting tomorrow morning with Lilia and some new donors. Rio’s preparing the notes, but I need you sharp. It’s a big deal.”

Agatha exhaled deeply, her lips tightening. Of course Rio is preparing the notes. That woman was everywhere—constantly pushing, constantly challenging, constantly... there.

Shaking her head, Agatha typed a quick response: “I’ll be ready.”

She placed the phone back on her desk and stood, smoothing down her blouse and pacing the room. The thought of seeing Rio again tomorrow made her stomach twist, but she told herself it was just frustration. Anger. Professional annoyance. Nothing more.

Except... maybe it was something more. And she hated herself for it.

**

In the next morning the conference room was bustling with energy as the team prepared for the donor meeting. Jen was already seated near the head of the table, her laptop open and a clipboard in hand. Staffers buzzed around, setting up refreshments and making sure every detail was perfect.

And then, as if summoned by Agatha’s own restless thoughts, Rio walked in.

She was wearing a dark blazer today, but it was looser, less structured than Agatha’s own sharp tailoring. Her hair was tied back, a few loose strands framing her face, and she carried a stack of papers under one arm. She looked... casual. Effortless.

Agatha hated that too.

Rio’s eyes found Agatha almost immediately, and for a brief, charged moment, their gazes locked. Agatha felt her chest tighten, heat creeping up her neck despite herself. But she quickly looked away, pretending to focus on her notes.

Rio smirked. She didn’t say anything, but the expression on her face was enough to send Agatha’s blood pressure spiking.

As the team settled in, Rio took a seat across from Agatha. Not beside her—across. It felt deliberate, and Agatha couldn’t help but wonder if Rio was trying to get under her skin on purpose.

The meeting began smoothly enough. Lilia, seated at the head of the table, went through introductions, her polished demeanor commanding the room. Agatha spoke when necessary, her voice calm and composed, even as she felt Rio’s presence across the table like a physical force.

But then, halfway through the meeting, Rio spoke up.

“Actually,” she said, cutting in smoothly after one of Agatha’s points, “I think we should rethink the tone of the next speech. Agatha’s last one was strong, but it lacked emotional resonance. We need to show people that she’s more. We need them to feel her true self.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. She glanced at Rio sharply, her eyes narrowing.

“Are you suggesting my speech wasn’t effective? You said it was -” she asked, her tone icy.

Rio leaned back in her chair, her expression infuriatingly calm, and she proceeded to cut her off “I’m suggesting we can do better. It’s about connecting with people, not just impressing them.”

The room went silent. All eyes were on them now, the tension between them palpable.

Agatha forced a tight smile. “I appreciate your input, Ms. Vidal, but I think I know how to connect with my audience.”

Rio didn’t back down. “Do you? Because from where I’m standing, it looks like you’re more focused on staying untouchable than being relatable.”

Agatha felt a spark of anger flare in her chest, but she swallowed it down, keeping her expression neutral. She couldn’t lose her composure here—not in front of everyone.

“Noted,” she said curtly, turning her attention back to Lilia. “Shall we move on?”

The meeting continued, but the energy in the room had shifted. Agatha could feel it—the way the staffers exchanged subtle glances, the way Jen scribbled something in her notebook without looking up. And most of all, the way Rio sat across from her, completely unbothered, as if she hadn’t just challenged her boss in front of half the team.

When the meeting finally ended, Agatha was the first to leave the room. She didn’t even glance at Rio as she walked out, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor.

But as she reached her office and closed the door behind her, she realized her hands were shaking.

Rio Vidal was a problem. A challenge. A thorn in her side.

And Agatha didn’t know how much longer she could keep pretending that the tension between them was only professional.

Agatha sat at her desk, staring blankly at the stack of papers in front of her. Words blurred into meaningless shapes, numbers swam across the page, and the ticking of the clock on the wall felt louder with every second.

Her thoughts were elsewhere. On her.

Rio.

Agatha exhaled sharply, dragging a hand through her perfectly styled hair, leaving it slightly disheveled. It wasn’t like her to lose focus. She prided herself on her control, her ability to compartmentalize every aspect of her life.

But Rio...

Rio was different.

It wasn’t just the way she challenged Agatha, constantly poking holes in her armor with that smug grin and those sharp words. It wasn’t just the audacity she had to stand toe-to-toe with someone like Agatha Harkness, unafraid to push every button and then some.

No, it was something else. Something that made Agatha’s skin flush and her stomach twist in knots.

It was the way anger turned into heat.

Agatha clenched her fists, her nails digging into her palms. It didn’t make sense. It was ridiculous, irrational, even humiliating. She was furious with Rio—furious for the way she undermined her, questioned her, looked at her with that infuriating confidence. And yet...

Why does it feel like this?

The thought clawed at her mind, insistent and unwelcome. Agatha pushed back from her desk abruptly, the chair scraping loudly against the floor. She couldn’t stay here, trapped in this suffocating office with her spiraling thoughts.

She needed air.

Grabbing her coat, she strode out of the office, ignoring the startled looks from her staff as she passed by. She didn’t care if anyone wondered why their usually composed boss was leaving in such a rush. She just needed to get away.

**

The city greeted her with its usual cacophony of sounds—honking cars, distant sirens, the hum of pedestrians milling about. Agatha walked briskly, her heels clicking against the pavement as she weaved through the crowd. She had no destination in mind, no plan. She just needed to move.

Her mind raced as she walked.

Why does she get under my skin like this?

The memory of their meeting earlier that day burned in her mind. The way Rio had challenged her so brazenly, the way her dark eyes had locked onto Agatha’s, daring her to push back.

Agatha shivered, though it wasn’t from the chill in the air.

She had faced countless opponents in her career—journalists, political rivals, even members of her own party. She had always handled them with grace, deflected their attacks with ease. But Rio was different. Rio didn’t just challenge her professionally. She challenged her personally.

And it wasn’t just anger that Rio ignited in her.

Agatha stopped abruptly, her breath hitching as the realization hit her like a punch to the gut.

It’s not just anger.

Fuck.

Her pulse quickened, her chest tightening with something she couldn’t name—or maybe something she didn’t want to name. She looked around, realizing she had wandered into a quieter part of the city. A small park stretched out before her, its benches empty, the air still.

Agatha sat down on one of the benches, her hands trembling slightly as she gripped the edge of her coat. She stared at the ground, her thoughts tumbling over one another in chaotic waves.

She didn’t want to admit it, but the truth was there, staring her in the face.

Rio made her feel alive - real. The anger, the tension, the heat—it was all tangled together, a mess of emotions she didn’t know how to unravel. And underneath it all, there was something deeper. Something terrifying.

Desire.

Agatha closed her eyes, willing the thought away. This wasn’t who she was. This wasn’t who she was allowed to be. She came from a family of politicians, a legacy of tradition and decorum. Her life had always been carefully curated, every move calculated. There was no room for mistakes, no room for indulgences, no room for...

For her.

She shook her head, trying to clear it. This was absurd. Ridiculous. She couldn’t let herself go down this path. Not now. Not ever.

But no matter how much she tried to push the thoughts away, they lingered, like an itch she couldn’t scratch.

She thought of Rio’s smirk, the sharpness of her words, the way her presence filled a room. She thought of how Rio didn’t flinch when Agatha snapped at her, didn’t back down when Agatha tried to assert her dominance.

She thought of how Rio made her feel... seen.

Agatha’s breath hitched again, and she leaned forward, burying her face in her hands.

What the fuck is wrong with me?

The sound of a distant horn broke her reverie, and Agatha forced herself to sit up. She couldn’t stay here, lost in her thoughts. She needed to pull herself together. To focus.

**

Agatha stepped back into the building, her head still buzzing from the chaotic storm of thoughts she’d just tried—and failed—to walk off. She needed to get back to work, bury herself in the campaign, and shut out the intrusive pull of her emotions.

As the elevator doors opened in front of her, she didn’t notice someone stepping out until their bodies nearly collided.

“Whoa there, boss,” came the smooth, familiar voice that made Agatha’s stomach drop and pulse spike all at once.

Rio.

Always Rio. Rio everywhere.

Of course. Because fate clearly had a cruel sense of humor.

Agatha stepped back quickly, her sharp heels clicking against the polished floor as she straightened herself.

“You should watch where you’re going,” she snapped, her tone colder than intended.

Rio grinned, completely unfazed “Funny, I was going to say the same to you.”

Agatha glared at her, but the fire in her chest wasn’t purely from anger. Her heart was racing, and she hated it.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked curtly, folding her arms. “Shouldn’t you be working?”

Rio raised an eyebrow, gesturing to the takeout bag in her hand. “Even relentless campaign managers have to eat. You should try it sometime.”

“I don’t have time for leisurely lunches,” Agatha replied sharply.

“That’s your problem,” Rio shot back, her grin widening. “You’re all business, all the time. No wonder you’re so... tense.”

The word hung in the air between them, and Agatha stiffened, her jaw tightening. “I’m not tense!”

“Oh, you’re tense,” Rio said, her voice dropping just enough to make the statement feel more like a taunt. She tilted her head, studying Agatha with those sharp, observant eyes. “Actually, I’ve been meaning to ask—do you get this riled up with everyone, or is it just me?”

Agatha’s stomach churned, her cheeks burning despite her best efforts to maintain her composure. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” she said, turning toward the elevator and pressing the button to call it again.

The doors opened almost immediately—another cruel trick of timing. But before Agatha could step inside, Rio shifted, blocking her path.

“You know,” Rio said, leaning casually against the elevator frame, “I was going to grab lunch at that little bistro down the street. Great food, terrible service—exactly the kind of place that’d drive someone like you crazy.”

“Fascinating,” Agatha said dryly. “Now, if you’ll excuse me—”

“Come with me,” Rio interrupted, her tone light but her gaze steady.

Agatha blinked, caught off guard. “What?!”

“You heard me.” Rio shrugged, as if the suggestion were the most natural thing in the world. “Come to lunch. I’ll even let you lecture me about how unprofessional I am while we eat.”

Agatha scoffed. “Why on earth would I do that?”

“Because,” Rio said, stepping closer—just close enough that Agatha could catch the faint scent of her perfume, warm and earthy and far too distracting—“you look like you could use a break. And because I’m curious.”

“Curious about what?” Agatha asked, her voice quieter now, her defenses fraying under the weight of Rio’s gaze.

Rio’s smile shifted, softening into something more teasing but no less dangerous. “About you, Congresswoman. What gets under your skin. What makes you tick.” Her voice dropped almost to a whisper. Agatha felt the sound of her voice close to her ear - electric.

Agatha froze in place.

Rio seemed to sense her freezing and just shot “Are you afraid?”

“Afraid? Oh, please dear, you need more than a few questions to make me afraid.” Agatha shot back.

**

Agatha chose a table in the corner, away from prying eyes, and sat down without waiting for Rio’s approval.

Rio took the seat across from her, leaning back in her chair as she studied Agatha with a smirk. “You really don’t like being out of control, do you?”

Agatha shot her a withering glare. “I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

“Oh, you know exactly what I’m talking about.” Rio leaned forward, resting her elbows on the table. “You’ve got this whole ice queen thing going on, but every time I push, you crack just a little bit. It’s fascinating.”

Agatha clenched her jaw, her fingers curling around the edge of the table. “You’re wasting your time.”

“On the contrary, I think it’s time well spent,” Rio said, her tone light but her gaze piercing.

The waitress arrived then, sparing Agatha from having to respond. They ordered quickly—Agatha sticking to a simple salad and black coffee, while Rio opted for a sandwich and an iced tea.

As the waitress walked away, Rio tilted her head, studying Agatha with open curiosity.

“Why’d you agree to this?” Rio asked suddenly.

Agatha frowned. “Agree to what?”

“Lunch,” Rio said, gesturing around them.
“You could’ve easily told me to go to hell and walked away. So why didn’t you?”

Agatha hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “Because you wouldn’t stop pestering me otherwise.”

Rio chuckled. “Fair enough. But I don’t think that’s the real reason.”

“And I don’t care what you think,” Agatha shot back, though the words lacked their usual bite.

Rio leaned forward again, her voice dropping just enough to make Agatha’s pulse quicken. “I think you’re curious. About me.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, though she masked it with a sharp glare. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“Oh, I’m not,” Rio said, her smirk returning.

“But I’ve seen the way you look at me, Agatha. When you think I’m not paying attention.”

Agatha’s cheeks flushed, and she cursed herself for the involuntary reaction. “You’re imagining things.”

“Am I?” Rio’s eyes sparkled with mischief. “You can lie to me all you want, but you can’t lie to yourself.”

Before Agatha could respond, the waitress returned with their food, placing the plates and drinks in front of them. The interruption gave Agatha a moment to collect herself, though her heart was still racing.

They ate in silence for a few moments, the tension between them palpable. Finally, Agatha set her fork down and looked directly at Rio.

“If you’re finished playing your little games,” she said, her voice cold, “maybe we can discuss something useful. Like how to get this campaign back on track.”

Rio grinned, taking a sip of her iced tea. “Fine. But just so you know, I’m not done with you yet.”

Agatha’s stomach twisted at the double meaning in Rio’s words, but she forced herself to hold her ground. “You’ll have to get in line,” she said coolly.

Rio laughed, the sound rich and warm, and for a brief moment, Agatha hated how much she liked the sound of it.

Agatha took a measured sip of her coffee, determined to steer the conversation back to safe, professional ground. But Rio, predictably, had other ideas.

"So," Rio began, leaning forward slightly, her sandwich abandoned on the plate. "Since we’re here, and you’re so keen on making this about business, tell me—why exactly did you hate me the moment you saw me?"

Agatha’s grip on her coffee cup tightened. "I didn’t hate you."

Rio’s eyebrows shot up, her smirk reappearing. "Oh, come on. The death glare? The icy tone? That little vein on your forehead that twitches when you’re really pissed off? You’ve been gunning for me since day one."

Agatha set her cup down carefully, her voice clipped. "You’re mistaken. I don’t waste my energy on... feelings like that."

Rio chuckled softly, shaking her head. "Sure, sure. That’s why your first words to me sounded like a verbal slap in the face."

Agatha looked away, her jaw tightening. She refused to let Rio get under her skin. Again.

But Rio wasn’t finished. "Was it because I called you out in front of all those people? That bill you refused to back—you remember it, don’t you?"

Agatha stiffened. Of course she remembered.

"I seem to recall someone standing in front of the crowd, full of fire," Rio continued, her voice laced with mock admiration.

"You said, 'How can you claim to represent the people if you won’t stand up for the most vulnerable among them?' Or something like that. Really gave me hell that day." Agatha’s eyes narrowed. "You were grandstanding."

"And you were stonewalling," Rio shot back, her tone hardening for the first time since they sat down.

The table fell silent for a beat, the air between them charged with the weight of old wounds and lingering resentment.

"It wasn’t my decision," Agatha said finally, her voice quieter but no less firm. "There were other factors at play."

"Convenient," Rio replied, folding her arms. "Blame the system, not the person in power. Classic politician move."

Agatha bristled. "You don’t know what it’s like to be in my position. To have every action scrutinized, every choice twisted. It’s not as simple as just... doing the right thing."

"Maybe not," Rio admitted. "But it doesn’t excuse doing nothing."

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line, her chest tightening with the weight of memories she’d buried. That confrontation had haunted her for longer than she cared to admit—not because of Rio’s accusations, but because deep down, a part of her had agreed with them.

"Why do you care so much about it, anyway?" Agatha asked suddenly, her tone sharper than she intended.

Rio tilted her head, studying her for a long moment before answering. "Because it matters," she said simply. "And because people like you have the power to change things but choose not to."

Agatha’s stomach churned. She looked away, unable to hold Rio’s gaze. "I don’t have the luxury of acting on impulse."

"Is that what you tell yourself?" Rio asked, her voice softer now, almost curious.

Agatha swallowed hard, her throat tight. She hated how Rio could so effortlessly peel away her defenses, leaving her exposed in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

"You know," Rio said after a moment, leaning back in her chair. "For all your cold, calculated moves, I think there’s a part of you that wishes you could let go. Stop caring so much about what everyone thinks."

Agatha’s eyes snapped back to Rio, her heart pounding. "You don’t know anything about me."

Rio smirked again, but there was a glimmer of something else in her eyes—something that looked dangerously close to understanding. "Maybe not. But I know what it’s like to want something so badly it scares you. And I know what it’s like to hide."

The words hung between them like a live wire, crackling with unspoken truths. Agatha’s chest tightened further, her hands curling into fists beneath the table.

"I’m not hiding," she said, though the words felt hollow even as she spoke them.

Rio didn’t argue. Instead, she picked up her sandwich again, taking a deliberate bite.

Agatha’s jaw tightened. She felt angry at Rio, but more- at herself “You have no idea what kind of pressures I was under. What kind of fallout I would’ve faced if—”

“If you did the right thing?” Rio interrupted, her eyes blazing - she put her sandwich down. “Do you even hear yourself? You’re talking about basic human rights like they’re a chess game. Like it’s about winning or losing instead of, I don’t know, people’s lives.”

Agatha’s throat felt tight, her pulse pounding in her ears. She wanted to snap back, to shut Rio down with some cold, cutting remark, but the words wouldn’t come.

“And don’t give me that excuse about not having enough support,” Rio continued, leaning forward. Her voice dropped lower, more intense. “You’re supposed to be a leader. Leaders create change. They don’t just sit back and wait for someone else to make the first move.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her defenses crumbling faster than she could rebuild them. “You think it’s that simple? That I could’ve just waved a pride flag and everything would’ve been fine?”

“No,” Rio said, her tone softening slightly. “I don’t think it’s simple. I know it’s hard. But you had a chance to do something that mattered, and you didn’t take it. You didn’t even try.”

Agatha looked away, her gaze fixed on a crack in the table’s varnish. The weight of Rio’s words pressed down on her, suffocating and inescapable.

“You were at that march,” she said suddenly, her voice barely above a whisper.

Rio blinked, momentarily caught off guard.

“What?”

“That march. The one two years ago,” Agatha said, her eyes flicking back to Rio. “I saw the photos online. You were in the front row.”

Rio’s lips curved into a faint smile, though there was no humor in it. “Yeah, I was. That’s what people do when they give a damn. They show up. They fight.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. She hated how righteous Rio sounded, hated how the truth in her words cut through her like a blade.

“I don’t—” Agatha began, but Rio cut her off.

“You don’t what?” Rio demanded, her voice rising slightly. “You don’t care? You don’t understand? Because I’ve got news for you, Agatha—you don’t have to understand what it’s like to be queer or marginalized or scared. You just have to care enough to do something about it.”

The words hit Agatha like a freight train, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. Her hands trembled slightly as she clasped them together on the table, trying to regain her composure.

“I care,” she said finally, her voice barely audible. “But caring doesn’t change the fact that I—”

“That you what?” Rio pressed, her eyes narrowing.

Agatha bit the inside of her cheek, the words she wanted to say lodging in her throat.

That I don’t even know who I am. That I’ve spent my whole life running from something I can’t even name. That I hate you because you’re everything I’ll never be—free, fearless, unapologetic.

But she couldn’t say any of that. Instead, she shook her head, her gaze dropping to her lap. “I don’t owe you an explanation.”

Rio leaned back in her chair, her expression a mix of frustration and pity. “No, you don’t. But maybe you owe one to yourself.”

The words lingered between them, heavy and unyielding. Agatha’s chest ached, her mind spinning with thoughts she couldn’t quite pin down.

The waitress appeared then, breaking the tension with a bright smile and a question about dessert. Neither of them answered, and after a moment of awkward silence, she walked away.

Rio stood, dropping a few bills on the table to cover the check. “Take your time, Agatha. Figure out what you really want.”

While Rio’s hand lingered on the table, Agatha instinctively reached out - she didn’t even had time to think. She placed her hand right above Rio’s and closed her eyes like she was in pain. “Rio, I-“

Rio let go of the bills but her hand remained there. “What, Agatha?”

Agatha blinked her eyes like she had just woken up from a dream- or a nightmare. She parted her lips like she was about to say something, but instead, she rapidly pulled her hand away from Rio’s.

Rio stared at her for a few seconds. But in that moment she saw some pain in Agatha’s eyes. She closed her eyes and swallowed dryly. She wouldn’t push further. It was not her call to make. Agatha needed to be true to herself when she was ready.

"I'll leave you to think" Rio said, as she stood up.

And with that, she walked away, leaving Agatha alone with her thoughts and the crushing weight of everything she’d been trying to avoid.

Chapter Text

Rio’s grip on the steering wheel was tight, her knuckles pale against the dark leather as she navigated the late afternoon traffic. Her jaw was set, her brows furrowed, and her mind replayed every moment of lunch with Agatha like a film reel she couldn’t stop.

God, Agatha Harkness was infuriating.

Rio pressed her foot harder on the gas, weaving through a slow-moving line of cars. The air in her car felt suffocating despite the open windows. Her fingers tapped impatiently against the wheel, a rhythm she didn’t recognize. She hated how Agatha could get under her skin, how every word they exchanged felt like an electric charge sparking between them.

"Uptight, self-righteous, and way too good at pretending she’s above it all," Rio muttered under her breath. "She makes me want to scream."

But it wasn’t just anger. That was the problem.

The moment the thought entered her mind, Rio cursed, loudly and vividly, slamming her palm against the wheel and shaking her head. "No, no, no. I’m not doing this."

Because if she was honest—brutally honest—the anger was only part of it.

It was the way Agatha’s sharp blue eyes bore into hers like they could see through every carefully constructed wall. It was the way her voice, so clipped and formal, faltered just enough to betray something fragile beneath the surface. It was the way she stood, impossibly rigid, as if holding herself together was a full-time job.

Rio hated how much she noticed these things. Hated how her brain insisted on lingering on them, dissecting them, filing them away like they meant something.

"She’s just a project," Rio said aloud, as if saying it could make it true. "A difficult, stuck-up project with too much baggage. That’s all."

But she didn’t believe it. Not really.

Because Agatha wasn’t just difficult—she was intriguing. Rio didn’t want to admit it, but there was something captivating about peeling back the layers of Agatha’s polished exterior, about pushing her until she cracked just enough to let something real slip through. It was addictive, like trying to solve a puzzle that kept rearranging itself just when you thought you had it figured out.

And then there was the way Agatha reacted to her. That was what Rio couldn’t stop thinking about.

There was no mistaking the way Agatha bristled when Rio got too close, like a cat whose fur had been ruffled the wrong way. But there was something else there, too—something Rio couldn’t quite name. A flicker of vulnerability, maybe, or a spark of... interest?

No, that couldn’t be right. Agatha Harkness didn’t like her. That much was obvious.
And yet...

Rio shook her head, trying to dispel the thought. She didn’t want to go there. Couldn’t go there. Agatha was her boss, for one thing. And for another, they had a history—one built on arguments and resentment, not anything resembling friendship, let alone anything more.

But the way Agatha had looked at her during lunch... The way she reached instinctively for her hand, like she was about to confess something..

Rio exhaled sharply, her grip on the wheel tightening again. "She was just pissed off," she told herself firmly. "That’s all it was. I’m not reading into this."

Except, she was.

And that was what scared her the most.

Because for all her frustrations with Agatha, for all the ways the woman infuriated her, Rio couldn’t deny the pull she felt every time they locked eyes. She didn’t want to feel it, didn’t want to acknowledge it—but it was there, simmering beneath the surface, impossible to ignore. She felt it since the day Agatha had made her go shopping. The way her eyes lingered on her. It was electrical. In her head, she was just looking at a hot woman - because, let’s not lie, Agatha’s hot as fuck. But she wasn’t even registering her as Agatha Harkness at that time.

Expect, she was.

By the time she pulled into her driveway, Rio felt no closer to figuring out what the hell was going on in her head. She turned off the engine, sitting in silence for a moment as she stared at the dashboard.

"Get a grip," she muttered to herself.

But even as she climbed out of the car and headed inside, Rio couldn’t shake the thought that Agatha Harkness had wormed her way into her head.

**

Rio kicked off her boots and collapsed onto the couch, her phone already in her hand. She stared at the screen for a moment, debating whether this was a terrible idea.
But she couldn’t stop herself.

She tapped Alice’s name in her contacts and hit call. The phone rang a few times before Alice picked up, her familiar, chipper voice instantly cutting through Rio’s lingering tension.

"Hey, troublemaker," Alice greeted. "What’s up?"

Rio smirked despite herself, running a hand through her hair. "I’m not a troublemaker."

"You are, and you know it. What’s going on? You sound... weird."

Weird. Great.

Rio sank deeper into the couch, gripping the phone tighter. "Nothing’s going on. I just wanted to, uh... ask you something."

"Uh-oh," Alice said, her tone instantly playful. "This should be good. Go on."

Rio hesitated, tapping her thumb against the edge of her phone. She needed to play this carefully. Alice wasn’t stupid—she’d sniff out any ulterior motives in an instant.

"So," Rio began, trying to sound casual, "you’ve known Agatha for a while, right?"

Alice was silent for a beat, then she let out a soft laugh. "Oh, this is already getting interesting. What about her?"

"Nothing," Rio said quickly, too quickly. "I mean, just... has she ever, like... mentioned anything about her, uh, preferences?"

Alice’s laugh turned into a full-blown cackle. "Oh, my God. Are you seriously calling me to ask if Agatha Harkness is gay?"

"I didn’t say that!" Rio protested, her cheeks burning.

"But that’s what you’re asking." Alice’s voice was laced with amusement, and Rio could practically hear her grin through the phone. "Why? What’s this about?"

"It’s not about anything," Rio lied, her voice defensive. "I’m just curious. She’s such a... closed book, you know? Like, does she even have a personal life? A dating history? Anything?"

"Well," Alice began, her tone shifting to something more thoughtful, "Agatha’s always been... private. Like, painfully private. I’ve never seen her with anyone, male or female, and she definitely doesn’t talk about that kind of thing. But..."

"But what?" Rio pressed, sitting up straighter.

"But," Alice continued, "there’s always been this vibe, you know? Like, I wouldn’t be shocked if she was into women. She’s just... repressed. Like, next-level repressed. Why are you so curious, though? You’re not—"

"I’m not anything," Rio interrupted, too quickly again. She could feel her face heating up. "I just—she’s complicated. And complicated people make my job harder."

Alice let out a low hum, clearly unconvinced. "Right. Your job. Sure, that’s why you’re asking me this."

"It is!" Rio insisted, though she could hear how unconvincing she sounded.

Alice let out a sigh, her tone softening. "Listen, if Agatha’s hiding something, it’s probably because she feels like she has to. You’ve seen how she is—always so controlled, so careful. She’s spent her whole life trying to fit into this perfect little box. Maybe she doesn’t even know what she wants."

Rio leaned back against the couch, Alice’s words settling over her like a weight. She thought about Agatha’s sharp edges, her tightly wound demeanor, the way she seemed to unravel just a little whenever Rio pushed too hard.

"Yeah," Rio said softly. "Maybe."

Alice was quiet for a moment before her tone turned teasing again. "So... are you going to tell me what’s really going on, or am I supposed to just keep guessing?"

"There’s nothing to tell," Rio said, forcing a lightness into her voice.

"Uh-huh," Alice said, clearly unconvinced "Well, whatever’s going on, just don’t scare her off. If Agatha Harkness actually has a shot at loosening up, I’d hate for you to blow it."

Rio laughed, though it sounded hollow even to her. "Don’t worry. I’ll keep it professional."

"Professional, my ass," Alice shot back, but there was no malice in her voice. "Good luck with your ‘curiosity,’ though. You’re going to need it."

"Thanks," Rio said dryly. "Talk to you later."

As she hung up, Rio stared at her phone, her mind racing. Alice’s words echoed in her head, mixing with her own tangled thoughts.

Repressed. Hiding.
Doesn’t even know what she wants.

Rio sighed, dragging a hand down her face. Whatever was happening between her and Agatha, it was messy. And messy was the last thing she needed.

She got up and grabbed a bottle of wine - pouring one generous cup. She looked at the counter, where the cup sat - looked at the bottle.

“Oh, fuck this.” She said, as she picked up the whole bottle instead of the glass. She then got back at the couch.

Her fingers swiped lazily on a dating app, the photos of strangers flicking by one after another.

Tonight wasn’t about work, wasn’t about Agatha. It wasn’t even about finding someone serious—just a distraction. She needed a distraction. The tension from the office, from the way Agatha’s eyes lingered a moment too long, had been simmering in her all day.

The wine helped.

Rio clicked on another profile, and before she could swipe left, a message popped up.

"Hey, beautiful. What’s your favorite drink?"

A smile tugged at Rio’s lips. She quickly typed back.

"Depends on the company."

The reply came almost instantly.

"I’ll take that as a challenge. Drinks on me if you’re up for meeting tonight?"

Rio raised an eyebrow, a little intrigued despite herself. The girl’s profile picture was a sun-kissed blonde with striking blue eyes. She looked like the type of girl Rio could have a fun night with, no strings attached.

"Sure. Why not?"

**

Rio quickly agreed to meet at a random bar she had never been to before—a low-key spot that didn’t look too crowded, where she wouldn’t run into anyone from the office. She needed to turn her brain off.

She poured herself another glass of wine, her nerves easing with each sip.

By the time she arrived at the bar, she was feeling a little lighter, the tension of the last few days dissipating as she stepped inside. It was a cozy, dimly lit space with soft music playing. The air smelled faintly of wood and whiskey. The blonde was already there, waiting at a table near the back.

Rio gave her a nod as she approached. The girl stood up with a warm smile, her voice low and inviting as she greeted Rio. They exchanged pleasantries, and for a moment, Rio allowed herself to sink into the comfort of easy conversation. The kind of conversation that didn’t need to be overthought.

“Glad you could make it,” the blonde said, offering a slight tilt of her head. “I didn’t think you’d actually show. You’re way more adventurous than I thought.”

Rio grinned, her eyes catching the blonde’s with a spark of playful interest. “I’ve got to keep things interesting.”

They talked, and talked, and talked.

A few drinks were finished. A few smooth moves were made.

**

Agatha signaled her driver to stop.

“Leave. This is it. I’ll call when I’m done” She told Ralph.

She was driving around to find a place quiet - or unknown enough - to go for a drink. She’s a congresswoman, after all. She can’t be seen in the middle of the night drinking alone - not with that weird look on her face. The tabloids would go crazy.

There’s no problem in doing it, but… Well, let’s just say her family imposed her a different type of posture growing up. She always had to look very composed. Only show herself in fancy places - not some around the street bar in the middle of the night.

The moment Agatha stepped through the entrance of the bar, she felt a strange sense of freedom, or perhaps it was the illusion of it. She hadn’t gone out like this in years, alone, without the looming weight of her career or her family’s expectations. Her heels clicked sharply against the floor, and the low hum of chatter filled the air as she looked around. She’d been caught in a whirlwind of speeches and meetings for weeks, and tonight, she needed to blow off some steam—without anyone recognizing her, of course. She was always on the clock, always under the microscope. Tonight was for her.

And yet, as she walked through the bar, she didn’t expect to see her.

She spotted Rio immediately, of course.

Even from across the room, Agatha noticed the way Rio sat, legs crossed, her posture relaxed, but that was just it—it wasn’t the way Agatha had seen her before. Here, she wasn’t in control. She wasn’t barking orders or trying to stay professional. No, Rio was laughing. She was light, at ease. Agatha’s eyes narrowed, a knot forming in her chest.

And then she saw who Rio was with.

A stunning blonde. Tall, confident, exuding that energy that Agatha had learned to recognize as dangerous. The woman’s smile was bright, and she was leaning in a little too close, speaking with that unmistakable flirtation in her voice. Agatha’s stomach churned, a sharp pang of jealousy she’d never expected to feel.

Why did it bother her? It shouldn’t. She had no claim over Rio. She had no right to be here, watching this.

But there she was.

Agatha stood frozen for a moment, her back to the bar, the warm lights casting a soft glow on the wooden counter. She took a deep breath, trying to tamp down whatever this was. It wasn’t anything, it couldn’t be. She didn’t owe Rio anything. She was just a campaign manager.

And yet, she couldn’t stop herself from watching them. The way Rio leaned in, the way she laughed a little too freely. She looked… comfortable.

Shit.

Agatha turned away from them before she could get too caught up in the scene. She approached the bar, the sound of the glass clinking against the counter and the low chatter surrounding her. She needed a drink. Something to numb the sudden, uncomfortable feeling bubbling up inside of her.

“Whiskey, neat,” she said to the bartender, who gave her a nod.

Her mind kept drifting back to Rio, to the woman across the room who was clearly enjoying herself far too much. Why did it bother her so much? Agatha had worked in the political world long enough to understand that personal feelings were irrelevant when it came to work. Rio wasn’t hers to control. And yet… the thought of Rio with someone else, laughing with a stranger, ignited something in Agatha’s chest.

A quick glance toward their table confirmed that Rio wasn’t looking her way. The blonde was still talking animatedly, leaning in with that smile, making Rio laugh. Rio seemed to have a sort of lightness about her tonight—something Agatha wasn’t used to. It was strange to see, almost like Rio had shed her armor for the evening.

The bartender slid the glass of whiskey in front of Agatha, and she downed it in one gulp, the burn spreading warmth through her chest. She needed to stop thinking about this.

As Agatha turned to head for the back of the bar, she could feel Rio’s presence, even from across the room. It wasn’t just the way she looked—there was something magnetic about the way she carried herself. No matter who she was with, no matter how beautiful or charming the blonde was, Rio was still the one Agatha couldn’t take her eyes off.

And then, as if fate had decided to play a cruel game, their eyes met.

It was the slightest flicker, but it was enough. Rio’s expression shifted, and she glanced at Agatha’s direction, a look of recognition crossing her face. There was something in her eyes. Agatha could feel it—a mix of amusement, surprise, and, just beneath it all, something else.

Agatha didn’t know what she expected from Rio, but it definitely wasn’t this.

You’ve got to be kidding me, Agatha thought, feeling the sudden heat rush to her face.

She stood there for a moment, holding her whiskey glass, trying to steady herself. She didn’t know what to do. She could turn around and leave, pretend she never saw Rio, but that would be weak.

No. She wasn’t going to do that. She was Agatha Harkness, damn it.

With a deep breath, Agatha took slow, deliberate steps toward their table.

Meanwhile, Rio was acutely aware of Agatha’s presence before the woman even spoke. She hadn’t seen her yet, but she felt her. The air shifted.

Rio’s body stiffened slightly, but she refused to let it show. She kept her posture relaxed, laughing at something her date had said, but her thoughts were elsewhere. Agatha’s presence was magnetic, a constant pull that she couldn’t ignore. Rio had known the second Agatha stepped into the bar. It wasn’t the click of her heels or the way she carried herself—it was the way the entire room seemed to subtly shift when Agatha entered.

Agatha commanded attention.

She felt the heat of Agatha’s gaze on her, and her stomach did an uninvited flip. It wasn’t just anger this time. No, it was something deeper, something confusing that Rio couldn’t quite place.
And then, Agatha moved. Her steps were measured, controlled—dangerous.

Rio tried to focus on the blonde in front of her, but it was impossible. Her mind kept wandering back to Agatha, watching her draw nearer. She could feel her breath hitching, her pulse picking up pace.

What the hell is wrong with me?

And then Agatha reached their table.

When she came close, she understood she knew the woman sitting across from Rio.

“Emma?!” she asked, her voice carrying just enough fake cheer to make Rio’s heart skip a beat.

“You two know each other?” Rio flickered her eyes between both women.

“Yeah!” Emma said, cheerful. She gets up and hugs Agatha “God, it’s been ages!”

Agatha stiffs at the hug. She doesn’t quite know how to act. She does know Emma, in fact, it was Emma who introduced her to this bar. They used to get together with a few friends there - When

Agatha tried to sneak out of her house to breathe, trying to get away from her family’s negative energy.

Emma turned to Rio “We were in college together. Not in the same classes, or year. But Agatha was dating my older brother at the time, and we ended up bonding”

Emma looked at Rio with a curious tilt of her head. “But… How do you two know each other, then?”

Rio leaned back in her seat, raising an eyebrow at the question. “Oh, we’re working together now,” she said with a grin. “Agatha hired me to help with her campaign.”

“Hmm.” Emma’s eyes narrowed slightly, a knowing smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. “I have to admit, I didn’t think Agatha would go for someone like you,” she said, eyeing Rio up and down. “But then again, she does love shaking things up a little. I bet that’s why she hired you.”

Agatha’s lips tightened at Emma’s comment, but she said nothing. Instead, she glanced toward the bar, she thought about leaving.

Emma seemed far more relaxed than Agatha. She stood, tossing her hair over her shoulder, her eyes sparkling. “I’m going to use the bathroom. I’ll be back in a minute.”

As Emma made her way toward the restroom, Agatha turned to Rio with a tight expression on her face.

“Watch her,” Agatha said, her tone cold. “She’ll probably go into the bathroom, sniff some coke, and be back in five minutes. She’s never been the type to stay sober for long.”

Rio blinked in surprise, her gaze following Emma’s retreating figure. She didn’t expect Agatha to speak so candidly, but the bitterness in her voice was unmistakable. “You don’t like her much, huh?”

“No,” Agatha replied, her voice steady. “I was only nice to her back then because I was with her brother. But I’ve always thought she was a little... off.”

Agatha’s eyes flickered to the bar, and Rio could see the tension in her posture. “She’s not my type.”

Rio’s lips curled into a playful smile. “No kidding. I can see that. She’s definitely not your type. Her brother is.”

“She’s just not my type of -“ Agatha rolled her eyes “She’s not the type of person I would choose to hang out with.”

Agatha let out a slow breath, her shoulders stiffening just slightly as she looked back at Rio. There was something in her gaze—almost like she was testing the waters, feeling out how much she could let slip, how much she could let her guard down. But only for a moment.

“Well, now that you’re here,” Agatha continued, her tone returning to its usual cool sharpness, “you should keep an eye on her. Don’t let her cause a scene. We don’t need that kind of drama tonight.”

Rio nodded slowly, her eyes locking onto Agatha’s with a knowing look. “I’ll keep an eye out for her,” she said, leaning back in her seat. “But I think I’m more interested in keeping an eye on you.”

Agatha shot her a quick, sharp look, but there was something flickering behind her eyes—something Rio had only seen in brief moments. It was the smallest crack in Agatha’s usual icy façade, but it was there.

As Emma returned from the bathroom, Agatha straightened up, immediately locking down any sign of vulnerability. The smile on her face was now perfect, rehearsed. But Rio could still feel the crackling tension between them. It was like a game, a slow, dangerous dance that neither of them was ready to fully acknowledge but couldn’t help but be drawn into.

And Rio? She was definitely enjoying every second of it.

Emma returned to the table, smiling brightly, and the conversation shifted. But Rio couldn’t stop watching Agatha, could barely keep her attention on Emma. The night was only just beginning, and Rio could feel it. The pull between her and Agatha was palpable—unspoken, yet undeniable.

“Well, I’ll leave you two to it” Agatha said, signaling to leave.

“Nooo… Oh, c’mon, it’s been ages since I last saw you” Emma cried out “At least stay for a couple drinks, you won’t bother.” She turned to Rio “Right, Rio?”

Rio smirked. “Right. Join us.”

“I don’t want to intrude your date.” Agatha responded. Her tone more weirded out than intended.

“Pffft, you’re not intruding. Rio can take me home after.” Emma laughed.

She was clearly already buzzed.

Agatha couldn’t help but to feel her stomach twisting. She cleared the remaining whiskey in her cup in one sip and sat down.

Chapter Text

Agatha stiffened at Emma’s casual declaration, her stomach twisting like a tight coil at the words.

Rio can take me home after.

Her mind replayed them on an endless loop, and for a second, she thought she might actually be ill. But, as always, she locked it all down, burying the discomfort beneath her perfectly composed facade.

Emma cut her thought in half and shot “Agatha, I’m surprised you still remember this bar”

"Of course I remember this bar," Agatha said coolly, her tone clipped but polite. She forced a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes, reaching for her drink. "It’s hard to forget."

Emma grinned, completely oblivious to the undercurrent of tension swirling around the table. "I’m glad you still remember. My brother loved this place, didn’t he?" she said, her voice light and nostalgic.

At the mention of him, Agatha faltered. The whiskey in her glass sloshed as her hand jerked slightly, but she quickly steadied herself, taking a sip to hide her reaction. She didn’t want to think about him—about how she’d spent years molding herself into the kind of woman he, and by extension her family, expected her to be. The reminder stung, even now.

Rio, however, didn’t miss the crack in Agatha’s armor. Her gaze flickered sharply between Emma and Agatha, and though her face remained neutral, something in her eyes darkened. She wasn’t sure what it was—the mention of Agatha’s ex, or the way Agatha suddenly seemed smaller, her usual sharp edges dulled—but it struck a nerve.

"Your brother had good taste," Agatha finally said, her voice steady again, though her grip on her glass remained tight. "This place has a certain charm."

Rio’s jaw tightened at the careful deflection. She leaned back in her chair, crossing her arms as she stared at Agatha. "Charming," she muttered under her breath, though loud enough for Agatha to catch.

Agatha’s eyes snapped to her, narrowing slightly. "Is there something you’d like to add, Rio?"

Rio smirked, her casual confidence cutting through the tension. "Not at all. Just appreciating the nostalgia." Her tone was light, but her words carried an edge that only Agatha could hear.

Emma, either unaware or unwilling to acknowledge the shift in the air, laughed. "You know, Agatha," she said, nudging her playfully, "you used to be so much more relaxed. Remember those late nights here, sneaking out of your house to meet us? God, you were so different back then."

Agatha froze. Her smile faltered, just for a moment, before she quickly recovered. "People change," she said curtly, her voice like ice. "Some of us have responsibilities now."

Emma waved her hand dismissively, clearly unfazed. "Oh, please. Everyone needs to let loose once in a while. Even you, Miss Perfect." She turned to Rio with a grin. "You should’ve seen her back then. She was actually fun."

Rio’s gaze flicked to Agatha, studying her carefully. "Fun," she repeated, the word rolling off her tongue like a challenge. "Hard to picture."

Agatha’s lips thinned, and she set her glass down with more force than necessary. "Not everyone has the luxury of living recklessly, Rio."

Rio leaned forward slightly, resting her elbows on the table as she locked eyes with Agatha. "Reckless? Or free?"

The air between them crackled, the tension thick enough to suffocate. Agatha didn’t respond immediately, her gaze holding Rio’s with a mix of anger and something else—something she couldn’t quite name but felt burning in the pit of her stomach.

Emma, sensing the shift but still blissfully unaware of its depth, laughed awkwardly. "Okay, you two. Let’s not get too serious. We’re here to have fun, remember?"

"Right," Agatha said, her tone sharp as she broke eye contact with Rio. She picked up her glass again, taking a long sip to steady herself. "Fun."

But the word felt foreign on her tongue, and as Emma launched into another story about their college days, Agatha couldn’t shake the way Rio was watching her—like she could see right through every wall Agatha had built. It was maddening.

Emma, oblivious to the tension gripping the table, was already halfway through recounting a story about some drunken escapade from her college years, her laughter bubbling over. Agatha barely heard her. She was too aware of Rio, sitting across from her with that infuriating smirk, like she’d won something.

Agatha couldn’t let her win. Not here. Not now.

Emma nudged Agatha’s arm suddenly, pulling her back into the conversation.

“Remember that time my brother got so drunk he couldn’t even make it home? You had to drag him back to your car? God, you were such a saint. Honestly, I still don’t know how you managed to date him as long as you did.”

Agatha’s fingers tightened on her glass, and she forced a brittle laugh. “Yes, well, patience is a virtue.”

"Patience?" Rio muttered, just loud enough for Agatha to hear. “Sounds more like penance.”

Agatha’s gaze snapped to Rio, her eyes narrowing. “Do you always have to comment on things you don’t understand?” she said, her voice clipped but controlled.

Rio raised an eyebrow, leaning back in her chair with an infuriating calmness. “I’m just saying, sticking around someone like him must’ve taken a lot of... dedication.”

Emma, ever the peacemaker, waved her hand dismissively. “Oh, don’t be so hard on her, Rio. Agatha was practically a saint back then. Always putting everyone else first.”

She giggled, sipping her drink. “Not so different from now, actually.”

Rio’s gaze lingered on Agatha, sharp and probing. “Maybe that’s the problem,” she said softly, though the words carried weight. “Always putting everyone else first.”

Agatha’s chest tightened. She didn’t respond, didn’t trust herself to. Instead, she took another long sip of her drink, letting the burn of the whiskey distract her from the ache Rio’s words stirred inside her. She hated how accurate they felt, how they struck a nerve she didn’t want anyone—especially Rio—to see.

Emma, thankfully, decided to change the subject, launching into another tale from their shared past. Agatha tried to focus on her, tried to push down the frustration and heat bubbling beneath her calm exterior. But it was impossible with Rio’s eyes on her, watching her every move like she was some puzzle Rio was determined to solve.

“You know,” Emma said, a touch too loudly, “I think it’s so great that you two are working together now. Honestly, I was shocked when I found out. I mean, you two couldn’t be more different.”

“Couldn’t agree more,” Agatha said flatly, earning a small chuckle from Rio.
Emma grinned, either missing or ignoring the tension. “Seriously, though. I feel like you might actually be good for each other. Balance things out, you know?”

Agatha froze, her jaw tightening. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

Rio smirked, leaning forward slightly. “Why not? Afraid you might learn something from me?”

Agatha’s gaze snapped to her, her eyes blazing. “The only thing I’m learning is that my patience has limits.”

Rio laughed, low and soft, clearly unfazed. “Good to know,” she said, her voice carrying a teasing edge. “I’ll keep testing them.”

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but Emma cut in, her laughter filling the space between them. “God, you two are hilarious. Honestly, you should’ve been friends ages ago.”

“Friends,” Agatha repeated, her voice laced with disdain. “Hardly.”

Rio tilted her head, studying Agatha with a look that was equal parts amusement and curiosity. “Who knows? Stranger things have happened.”

Emma’s phone buzzed on the table, and she picked it up with a distracted hum. “Oh, shoot,” she muttered, scanning the screen. “I didn’t realize how late it’s getting. What do you say, Rio? Ready to call it a night?”

Emma’s words pulled Rio out of her thoughts. Agatha’s glass was empty now, her hands folded neatly on the table, but there was a tension in her posture, something unspoken.

Rio glanced at her briefly before turning to Emma, forcing a smile. “Sure,” she said, standing and grabbing her coat. “Let’s head out.”

Agatha didn’t say a word, but her eyes followed them as they rose, Emma already half-drunk and bubbly, and Rio calm, collected—annoyingly unreadable.

“Agatha, it was so nice to see you,” Emma said, throwing her arms around her again, though this time Agatha didn’t stiffen as much. “We’ll catch up soon, okay?”

“Of course,” Agatha said smoothly, her voice as practiced as ever.

“Goodnight,” Rio said, her tone neutral, her gaze flicking over Agatha for a moment before she followed Emma toward the door.

Agatha stayed seated, the clink of glasses and hum of conversation around her fading into the background. She watched as Rio held the door open for Emma, then stepped outside. For a moment, Agatha allowed herself to relax, exhaling slowly. She needed to leave too, but the thought of walking out now, watching Rio leave with Emma—it sat heavy in her chest.

Outside, Emma slipped her arm through Rio’s, leaning into her. “So,” Emma said playfully, her tone suggestive, “your place or mine?”

Rio hesitated, glancing toward the street where a few cars idled at the curb. She reached for her phone, opening the Uber app. “Actually,” she started, her tone apologetic, “I just remembered I have an early morning tomorrow. Campaign stuff. I should probably head home.”

Emma pouted, clearly disappointed. “Really? That’s a shame. I was hoping we could... you know, keep the night going.”

Rio gave her a small smile, stepping away slightly. “I know, and trust me, you’re great. But work’s been... intense lately.” She shrugged, her tone light. “Rain check?”

Emma sighed but nodded, clearly too tipsy to argue. “Fine, fine. You owe me, though.”

“I do,” Rio said, waving as Emma turned and started walking toward the row of waiting cars.

She waited until Emma was safely inside one of them, then turned back to the bar.
Her feet hesitated for a moment on the pavement, but then she made up her mind. Whatever was happening between her and Agatha tonight—it wasn’t over yet.

Rio stepped back inside, the noise of the bar enveloping her like a familiar embrace. She spotted Agatha immediately, still seated at their table, her posture rigid, her eyes distant. For a split second, Rio considered turning around, leaving her to her thoughts. But that wasn’t who she was.

She crossed the room with deliberate steps, stopping in front of the table. “Figured you’d be gone by now,” she said, sliding into the seat Emma had vacated.

Agatha blinked, startled, before her mask of composure fell back into place. “And yet, here you are,” she said, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Rio signaled to the bartender for another round. “Guess I wasn’t ready to call it a night.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t move to leave. For the first time that night, Rio saw something crack in that carefully constructed armor—just the smallest flicker of vulnerability before it disappeared again.

The bartender set down their drinks, and Rio leaned back, watching Agatha over the rim of her glass. “So,” she said, her tone light but edged with something sharper, “what’s on your mind, Agatha?”

“What do you mean? Nothing’s on my mind, Rio” Agatha shot back.

“C’mon,” Rio leaned a little “Something’s clearly on your mind. I never thought I would find you here, on a week night, casually looking to blow off some steam over a few drinks.”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line as she picked up her drink, swirling the amber liquid as though it might reveal an answer. “You don’t know me well enough to make assumptions like that,” she said coolly before taking a measured sip.

Rio smirked, leaning her elbow on the bar and resting her chin on her hand. “Oh, I think I’m starting to,” she said. “I’ve seen enough to know there’s more to you than the stoic politician everyone else sees.”

Agatha’s eyes darted to Rio’s, sharp and wary. “You think you’ve figured me out after what? A couple weeks?”

“Not entirely,” Rio admitted, her tone easy but her gaze unwavering. “But I can tell you’re not as detached as you pretend to be. The way you talk to people, the way you deflect anything that feels too personal... You’re guarding something, Agatha.”

Agatha’s grip on her glass tightened slightly, but she kept her expression neutral. “You don’t know what you’re talking about.”

Rio tilted her head, the smirk softening into something more thoughtful. “Maybe not. But that doesn’t mean I’m wrong.”

The words hung in the air, tension crackling between them. Agatha broke eye contact first, glancing toward the crowd of patrons around them. Her posture stiffened, as if reminding herself to stay composed.

“I don’t owe you an explanation for anything,” she said after a moment, her voice quieter but no less firm.

“I’m not asking for one,” Rio replied, her tone soft but unrelenting. “I’m just saying... sometimes, it helps to let someone in. Even if it’s just for a moment.”

Agatha let out a dry laugh, shaking her head. “And you think that someone should be you?”

Rio shrugged, her smirk returning. “Why not? I’m here. You’re here. And I’m a great listener.”

Agatha’s gaze snapped back to Rio, her eyes narrowing. “You’re impossible.”

“Yeah, I’ve been told that before,” Rio said with a grin, taking a sip of her drink.

For a moment, silence stretched between them, thick with unspoken tension. Agatha looked down at her drink, her thoughts clearly elsewhere, while Rio watched her, curiosity burning in her chest.

Finally, Agatha set her glass down with a deliberate motion. “If you think this is some sort of game to get under my skin, Rio, I suggest you stop now. I don’t play those kinds of games.”

“Who said I was playing?” Rio said, her tone steady but her eyes glinting with challenge.

Agatha’s breath hitched, barely noticeable, but Rio caught it. Agatha stood abruptly, pulling her coat tighter around her shoulders. “I think I’ve had enough for one night,” she said, her voice clipped.

Rio remained seated, tilting her head as she looked up at her. “Running away again, huh?”

Agatha froze mid-step, her hand hovering over the strap of her purse. The words cut through the noise of the bar like a blade.

Slowly, she turned back to Rio, her posture tense but her expression carefully blank.

“I’m not running,” she said, her tone sharper than she intended.

Rio arched an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a small, knowing smile. “Then stay.”

The simplicity of the challenge lingered in the air, and for a moment, Agatha looked like she might walk away anyway, just out of spite. But something in Rio’s steady gaze stopped her. It wasn’t smug or taunting—it was... open. Inviting, even.

Agatha let out a quiet sigh through her nose, her fingers brushing her coat as if debating whether to take it off. She glanced toward the door and then back to Rio, who had already flagged down the bartender for another round.

“You’re insufferable,” Agatha muttered, finally pulling her coat off and draping it over the back of the stool.

“So I’ve heard.” Rio smirked and motioned to the empty seat beside her.

Agatha sat down stiffly, crossing her legs and smoothing her pants with deliberate care. “If I stay, you’d better have something more interesting to say than thinly veiled accusations about my character.”

Rio leaned on the bar, chin resting on her hand as she studied Agatha. “Fair enough. What would you like to talk about, then?”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a tight line. “I don’t know. You’re the one who begged me to stay.”

“I don’t beg,” Rio corrected with a chuckle. “I suggested. And you didn’t say no, so here we are.”

Agatha rolled her eyes and picked up her drink. “You’re impossible.”

“That’s also been said before,” Rio replied, her grin widening.

The bartender set two fresh drinks down in front of them, and Rio raised her glass toward Agatha. “To unlikely company,” she said with mock solemnity.

Agatha hesitated but eventually clinked her glass against Rio’s. “To poor decisions,” she muttered before taking a sip.

Rio laughed softly, shaking her head. “You’re full of surprises, Agatha. You know that?”

Agatha shot her a look, but there was no heat behind it. “And you’re full of something, Rio.”

“Charm, probably,” Rio quipped, taking a long sip of her drink.

Agatha almost choked.

After, silence settled between them, not quite comfortable but not entirely hostile either. Agatha’s gaze wandered to the shelves of liquor behind the bar, her fingers lightly tapping the edge of her glass.

“Why do you care so much about getting under my skin?” she asked suddenly, her voice quieter than before.

Rio leaned back, her expression softening. “I don’t think it’s about getting under your skin. I think it’s about figuring out what’s under there.”

Agatha turned to look at her, her brows furrowing slightly. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Rio shrugged, swirling her drink. “You’re interesting, Agatha. More than you let people see. And I guess... I’m curious.”

Agatha’s mouth opened as if to retort, but no words came out. Instead, she turned back to her drink, a faint crease forming between her brows.

“Curiosity killed the cat, you know,” she said after a long pause, her voice softer.

“But satisfaction brought it back,” Rio shot back without missing a beat.

Agatha glanced at her, and for the briefest moment, a small, genuine smile tugged at her lips before she quickly hid it behind her glass.

Rio’s teasing smile widened as she noticed the faint flicker of something she couldn’t quite name in Agatha’s eyes—a crack in the icy wall she kept so carefully constructed. It was subtle, but Rio was good at catching those moments. She thrived on them.

“You’re a hard nut to crack, Agatha,” Rio said, her tone light but with an unmistakable undertone of challenge. “I almost admire it.”

“Almost?” Agatha shot back, raising an eyebrow as she sipped her drink, her posture still stiff but not quite as hostile as before.

“Well,” Rio leaned closer, her elbow propped on the table, “I figure if I ever did crack that shell of yours, I’d find something very interesting underneath.”

Agatha stiffened again, her gaze flickering to Rio’s hand, which was now resting a little too close to hers. She straightened in her seat, trying to ignore the warmth creeping up her neck. “You’re delusional.”

“Am I?” Rio asked, tilting her head with mock innocence. “Or am I just observant?”

Agatha huffed a soft laugh, though it sounded more nervous than amused. “You’re something, all right.”

Rio let the comment slide, taking another sip of her drink as her knee bumped lightly against Agatha’s. She didn’t move it, and neither did Agatha, though her lips pressed into a tighter line.

Agatha started to wonder why those tables were so fucking small. She feels Rio closer than she should.

“You know,” Rio said after a pause, her voice dropping slightly, “for someone who’s so determined to keep everyone at arm’s length, you sure don’t seem eager to leave.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed. “Don’t flatter yourself, Rio. I’m just finishing my drink.”

“Uh-huh,” Rio said, clearly not buying it. Her fingers grazed the edge of Agatha’s sleeve, a seemingly casual movement, but it was enough to make Agatha flinch ever so slightly.

“You’re doing that on purpose,” Agatha muttered, her voice lower, almost like she was speaking more to herself than to Rio.

“Doing what?” Rio asked, her lips curling into a smirk.

Agatha’s eyes darted to where Rio’s fingers rested dangerously close to her wrist. She swallowed hard, her throat suddenly dry. “Touching me.”

Rio’s smirk deepened. “Am I?”

Agatha didn’t answer, but her gaze lingered for a second too long before she snapped it back to her drink. She took a larger sip than necessary, hoping the burn of the alcohol would distract her from the fire spreading beneath her skin.

“Relax, Agatha,” Rio said softly, leaning in just enough that her voice sent a shiver down Agatha’s spine. “You’re acting like I’m gonna bite.”

“Maybe you should,” Agatha muttered under her breath before she could stop herself.

Fuck, control yourself.

Rio’s eyebrows shot up, and for a moment, she looked genuinely surprised. Then, her expression shifted to something more playful, more dangerous.

“Careful, Agatha. I might take that as an invitation.”

Agatha’s face flushed, and she quickly averted her gaze. “I need another drink,” she muttered, waving the bartender over.

Rio chuckled, leaning back but letting her fingers brush against Agatha’s as she reached for her own glass. “You sure that’s a good idea? You’re starting to get... bold.”

Agatha froze, the implication in Rio’s words hanging heavily between them.

Was it the alcohol? Or was it Rio’s constant teasing that had her feeling so unmoored? She couldn’t tell anymore.

“Bold isn’t a bad thing,” Rio continued, her voice lower now, almost a whisper “Sometimes it’s exactly what you need to figure out what you really want.”

Agatha turned to her, her eyes narrowing despite the warmth pooling in her chest. “You think you know me so well, don’t you?”

Rio smiled, her gaze dropping to Agatha’s lips for the briefest of moments before meeting her eyes again. “I think I’d like to.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, and she quickly turned away, signaling for another drink.

She needed the distraction, needed something to focus on besides the way Rio’s voice seemed to wrap around her like a silken thread, pulling her closer and closer.

But Rio wasn’t done. She leaned in, her voice a soft murmur. “Tell me, Agatha. Is it all in your head? Or are you finally starting to feel it too?”

Agatha’s grip tightened on her glass, her heart pounding in her chest. She wanted to snap back, to shut Rio down, but the words wouldn’t come. Because the truth was, she wasn’t sure if it was all in her head. And that terrified her.

Rio’s smirk faltered for a moment as she noticed Agatha’s expression shift—her lips pressed into a thin line, her body stiffening like she was preparing for a fight. Agatha didn’t respond right away, but Rio could see the wheels turning behind those sharp, calculating eyes. She was retreating.

Finally, Agatha spoke, her voice cutting through the tension like a blade. “I don’t know what kind of game you think you’re playing, but I’m not interested.”

Rio leaned back, undeterred, her smirk creeping back as if to say, Oh, really? “I’m just talking, Agatha. Relax.”

Agatha shot her a look, one that could have frozen fire. “You’re not just talking. You’re trying to—” She cut herself off, her jaw tightening.

“To what?” Rio prompted, her voice low and coaxing, her head tilting slightly as she studied Agatha. “What am I trying to do?”

Agatha’s throat worked as she swallowed hard, her grip tightening on her glass. She stared straight ahead, her tone suddenly cold. “This isn’t appropriate.”

Rio’s teasing demeanor didn’t waver, but there was a flicker of curiosity in her eyes. She pushed, just a little. “Appropriate? Big word for such a simple conversation.”

Agatha turned to her then, her eyes blazing with something Rio couldn’t quite put her finger on. “I’m not like you.”

That hit harder than Rio expected. She leaned back slightly, folding her arms as her smirk dissolved into something sharper, more guarded. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You know exactly what it means,” Agatha snapped, her voice low but filled with a sharp edge. She glanced around the bar, as if to make sure no one was paying attention.

Rio raised an eyebrow, her gaze steady and unyielding. “No, I don’t think I do. So why don’t you spell it out for me?”

Agatha’s hand trembled slightly as she set her glass down on the bar with more force than necessary. “I don’t live like you. I don’t... flaunt myself, making a spectacle. I keep my life private.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, and her playful demeanor vanished entirely. She leaned forward, her voice a low, dangerous murmur. “Flaunt myself? Is that what you think I’m doing?”

Agatha didn’t answer right away, her gaze darting to her drink as if it could somehow save her from the conversation spiraling out of her control. “You know what I mean,” she muttered finally, but the words lacked conviction.

Rio shook her head, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “Wow. So that’s what this is about? You think just because I’m not ashamed of who I am, it’s some kind of... affront to your delicate sensibilities?”

Agatha flinched at the word “ashamed,” her mask slipping for just a second before she caught herself. “I didn’t say that,” she hissed, though the defensive tone in her voice betrayed her.

“You didn’t have to.” Rio’s voice was quieter now, but the sharpness in her tone cut through Agatha’s defenses. “You think I haven’t heard this before? That I haven’t seen people like you—people who can’t stand to look at me because I remind them of what they’re too afraid to admit about themselves?”

Agatha’s eyes widened, her mouth opening as if to deny it, but no words came.

Rio let out a slow breath, shaking her head. “You can lie to yourself all you want, Agatha. But don’t project your crap onto me. I’ve got enough of my own to deal with.”

For a moment, they just stared at each other, the air between them thick with tension. Agatha’s chest rose and fell rapidly, her hands clenched in her lap. She looked like she wanted to argue, to fight back, but something held her back.

Finally, she broke eye contact, looking away as she muttered, “You don’t understand.”

Rio’s gaze softened, but her voice remained firm. “Then help me understand.”

Agatha shook her head, standing abruptly. “I need to go.”

Rio didn’t stop her. She just watched as Agatha grabbed her coat and strode toward the door, her movements stiff and hurried, like she was running from something she couldn’t face.

As the door swung shut behind her, Rio let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through her hair. “Damn it, Agatha,” she muttered under her breath.

She signaled to the bartender for another drink, her mind racing.

Whatever was going on inside Agatha’s head, Rio wasn’t sure if she wanted to figure it out—or if she wanted to walk away before she got in too deep.

Chapter Text

Agatha slammed her apartment door shut with more force than she intended, the echo reverberating through the empty space. She leaned back against it, eyes closed, her breathing shallow. Her heels were killing her, but she didn’t move, didn’t dare take a step farther into the quiet darkness of her home.

Her mind was spinning, and it all led back to Rio.

She pressed the cool back of her hand against her forehead, desperate to extinguish the heat building beneath her skin. It was mortifying. Infuriating. And worse, it was... enticing.

“How the hell does she do that?” Agatha muttered aloud, her voice harsh in the stillness.

She kicked off her heels with a sharp motion, each thunk against the hardwood floor oddly satisfying. She moved toward the kitchen, pouring herself a glass of wine with trembling fingers. Her reflection in the window caught her attention, and she hated what she saw—a woman unraveling.

It wasn’t just the way Rio looked at her, though that was bad enough—those dark eyes filled with an intensity that felt like it could see straight through her. It wasn’t just the way Rio’s smirk tugged at the corner of her mouth, sharp and knowing, as if she could read every one of Agatha’s buried thoughts. No, it was the way Rio made her feel.

Agatha took a long sip of her wine, her free hand gripping the counter as her mind betrayed her, replaying their night at the bar. The tension in Rio’s voice, the way her fingers brushed against Agatha’s just lightly enough to send her pulse racing.

She hated how much she noticed. How much she felt.

“Stop it,” she hissed, shaking her head as if the motion could dispel the images creeping into her mind. But they wouldn’t stop.

Ugh, fuck.

The memory of Rio leaning in, close enough that Agatha could smell her perfume—earthy, with a hint of something sweet—came rushing back. Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, but it only made the memory sharper.

She thought about the way Rio’s lips moved when she spoke, teasing and deliberate, as though she knew the effect she was having. Agatha gripped her wine glass harder, the tips of her fingers turning white.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, setting the glass down harder than she meant to. She rubbed her temple, trying to massage away the frustration and confusion swirling in her head.

But her body betrayed her. A flush was spreading down her neck, her breathing uneven as her thoughts dipped into dangerous territory. She hated Rio—loathed her smug confidence, her audacity, the way she constantly pushed every button Agatha didn’t even know she had.

And yet...

Agatha’s hand hovered over the stem of her wine glass again, shaking slightly. She felt the heat pooling low in her stomach, a sensation she’d been fighting for weeks now. She hated Rio, but in the quiet darkness of her home, it was impossible to ignore that she wanted her too.

Her teeth grazed her bottom lip as she leaned against the counter, gripping it tightly with both hands. The sharp edges of the wood dug into her palms, grounding her, keeping her from spiraling completely.

“This isn’t me,” she said aloud, her voice weak. She wasn’t the kind of person who got flustered, who let anyone—let alone Rio—get under her skin. She had control. Composure.

But Rio had unraveled her with a single look.

Agatha pushed off the counter, pacing the length of the kitchen as though movement could dispel the heat coursing through her veins. Her mind raced with questions she couldn’t answer. Why did Rio’s teasing words linger in her head long after they’d parted ways? Why did the sound of her voice—a mix of sharp wit and something softer underneath—send shivers down her spine?

And why, no matter how much Agatha told herself she hated Rio, couldn’t she stop thinking about how it would feel to close the distance between them? To take that sharp smirk and silence it with her own lips, if only to prove she could?

She paused mid-step, her heart pounding in her chest. The thought was dangerous. Reckless.

And it wasn’t going away.

Agatha closed her eyes, pressing her palms to her cheeks as though she could will the heat away. She knew what she had to do. She had to forget. To push Rio out of her mind entirely.

But as she poured another glass of wine, she knew the night wasn’t going to be that simple. 

Agatha slumped into the corner of her couch, the soft fabric doing little to comfort the restlessness clawing at her chest. The wine bottle sat half-empty on the coffee table, mocking her lack of restraint. Her phone was in her hand, the screen glaring back at her with the blank message thread she’d been staring at for what felt like an eternity.

Rio.

Her name was just there, at the top of the thread. Innocuous. Simple. And yet, it burned in Agatha’s chest like a brand.

The thought crept in slowly, insidiously. She could text Rio. Something casual. Something light.

Are you still awake? or Forget something at the bar? Even a sharp Do you always annoy people this much?  would suffice.

But then what?

She took a long sip of wine, draining her glass in one go, and set it down too hard on the coffee table. The sound echoed in the room, pulling her out of her spiral for a brief moment.

“No,” she muttered to herself. “Absolutely not.”

But her fingers betrayed her, hovering over the keyboard. The warmth of the wine coursing through her body made her feel bold—or stupid. Maybe both. She bit her lip and let out a frustrated sigh, tossing the phone onto the cushion beside her like it was a grenade.

She wasn’t doing this. She wasn’t about to text Rio at—she glanced at the clock—nearly 3am, practically inviting her over.

And yet, the thought lingered, tantalizing.

Agatha pressed her palms into her eyes, trying to block out the noise in her head. She wasn’t gay. She wasn’t anything, really. She’d never had the luxury of figuring that out for herself, always boxed in by her family’s expectations, the rigid confines of her world.

The idea that she might feel something for Rio—beyond hatred, beyond frustration—was ludicrous. Unthinkable.

Wasn’t it?

Her mind betrayed her again, conjuring up images of Rio at the bar. The way her lips curved when she teased. The way her eyes had darkened, just slightly, when their conversation had turned heated. The way she looked when she leaned in, close enough that Agatha could almost feel her breath against her skin.

Agatha groaned and let herself sink deeper into the couch, her head tipping back.

“This is ridiculous,” she muttered, though the words lacked conviction.

Her phone buzzed faintly, and her heart jumped into her throat. She snatched it up, only to find it was an email—something mundane, unimportant. She let out a shaky breath, both relieved and disappointed.

She wasn’t going to text Rio. She wasn’t going to open that door, no matter how much the thought tempted her.

But the temptation was there.

Agatha drained the last of her wine straight from the bottle, her inhibitions slipping further away. She picked up her phone again, her fingers ghosting over the screen. One text wouldn’t mean anything, she told herself. It wasn’t like she was asking Rio to come over. It wasn’t like—

No.

She dropped the phone again, standing abruptly and pacing the room. The alcohol made her limbs heavy, her thoughts muddled, but she couldn’t stop the swirl of confusion and heat pooling in her chest.

“This isn’t me,” she whispered, but even as the words left her mouth, they felt hollow.

She collapsed back onto the couch, her hands covering her face. Her mind raced with questions she didn’t want to answer, thoughts she didn’t want to confront.

She wouldn’t text Rio. She couldn’t.

But the truth, unspoken and gnawing at the edges of her resolve, was that she wanted to. And that terrified her most of all.

**

Agatha sat at her desk, her temples throbbing with the unmistakable pulse of a hangover. Her coffee, now lukewarm, sat untouched beside a half-hearted attempt at reviewing campaign notes. The fluorescent lights overhead felt like a punishment, and every noise seemed amplified—phones ringing, muffled conversations, the faint hum of the air conditioning.

She groaned softly, pinching the bridge of her nose. She shouldn’t have indulged so much last night. And she definitely shouldn’t have let her thoughts spiral the way they had.

Her phone buzzed faintly, and she glanced at it, her chest tightening with reflexive anticipation. But it was just a meeting reminder. Nothing from Rio.

She shook her head, as if the motion could shake loose the lingering tension coiled in her chest. The bar. The conversation. The way Rio’s gaze had seemed to peel her apart piece by piece. It was all too much, too loud in her head this morning.

The outside door clicked open, and she stiffened. She didn’t have to look up to know it was Rio.

Her presence filled the room like a static charge, sharp and undeniable. Agatha’s pulse quickened despite herself, and she forced her eyes to stay fixed on the papers in front of her.

Rio didn’t say a word. She didn’t need to. Her footsteps—confident, unhurried—echoed softly against the tiled floor. Agatha could feel her, a gravitational pull she couldn’t ignore.

She risked a glance through her breavly opened office door. 

Rio was dressed sharply, effortlessly, in tailored pants and a fitted blazer. Her hair was pulled back, accentuating the sharp line of her jaw, and her expression was unreadable, her focus elsewhere.

Agatha’s stomach twisted. She hated how Rio carried herself, so self-assured and unaffected. It was infuriating. Maddening. And entirely too captivating.

Rio’s gaze flickered to her for the briefest moment as she walked past, and Agatha felt pinned in place, her breath catching in her throat.

It was just a look. A fleeting glance. But it was enough to leave Agatha’s mind spinning, her hangover forgotten for a moment.

Rio disappeared into the conference room without a word, the door clicking shut behind her.

Agatha exhaled shakily, her grip tightening on the pen in her hand. The tension in the air was suffocating, and she hated how much it affected her.

She turned back to her papers, willing herself to focus, to push past the pounding in her head and the lingering heat in her chest.

**

1 hour later.

Agatha sat at her desk, her head pounding, trying to push through the fog that had settled over her since last night. The wine, the tension, the things she couldn't quite figure out—everything was catching up with her. She rubbed her temples, trying to make sense of it all when Jen appeared at the door, knocking lightly before stepping inside.

"Hey," Jen said, her tone a bit softer than usual, her gaze flicking over Agatha. "Rio needs to see you."

Agatha frowned, leaning back in her chair with a sigh. "Why didn’t she come here herself?" she muttered, her annoyance bubbling up again.

Jen gave her a knowing look, her gaze flicking over Agatha’s tired face. "You look like you’ve been hit by a bus, Agatha," she said, blunt but with an undercurrent of concern. "You alright?"

Agatha waved her hand dismissively, trying to hide the exhaustion in her voice. "I just drank a little too much last night, okay? Nothing to worry about."

Jen didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t push the issue either. "Alright. I’ll tell Rio you’ll be down soon."

Before Jen left, Agatha noticed her lingering for a moment. "You sure you’re good?" Jen asked, her voice softer now.

Agatha nodded quickly. "I’m fine, Jen. Just need some coffee."

Jen gave her a final look before exiting, and Agatha exhaled slowly, her head still throbbing. She stood up, quickly checking herself in the mirror before heading down the hallway.

As she approached Rio’s office, the door was already slightly ajar. She paused for a moment, her hand hovering over the doorknob, the tension thick in the air. What was this about, anyway? Rio had a habit of dragging her into things without explanation.

Taking a breath, Agatha pushed the door open and stepped inside.

Rio was seated at her desk, her eyes flicking up as she saw Agatha walk in. There was something almost expectant about the way Rio looked at her, her arms crossed as she leaned back in her chair.

"Agatha," Rio said, her voice low and cool, but with a hint of amusement behind it. "Nice of you to show up."

Agatha crossed her arms over her chest, her usual defensive posture kicking in. "I’m here, aren’t I?" she shot back, her tone sharper than she intended.

Rio’s lips curled into a smile, something teasing in the way her eyes glinted. "You don’t look like you’re here. You look like you’re somewhere else."

Agatha tried to brush off the comment, her stomach tightening. "What is it you wanted to talk about?" she asked, wanting to get this over with as quickly as possible.

Rio’s smile didn’t fade as she leaned forward slightly. "The other rally," she said simply, as if that explained everything.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, a flicker of annoyance sparking in her chest. "What about it?"

"You’ve been… distant, lately. Not just physically, but mentally. We need to make sure everything’s aligned for the event. We can’t afford to slack off."

Agatha clenched her jaw. The way Rio spoke, as if she knew exactly what was going on in her mind—it grated on her nerves. "I’m working on it, Rio. But I’m not here to take orders from you. You might be the one running the campaign, but that doesn’t mean I’ll follow your every move."

Rio leaned forward even more, eyes locking onto Agatha’s with an intensity that made her stomach flutter despite herself. "No one’s asking you to follow my every move. But it would be nice if you could just trust me for once."

Agatha’s eyes flickered toward the floor, frustration bubbling up. "I don’t have to trust you to do my job," she muttered, the words more bitter than she intended.

Rio didn’t back down, though. Instead, she tilted her head slightly, her voice lower now. "It’s not about trust, Agatha. It’s about working together. But I guess that’s a problem for you, isn’t it?"

The air between them thickened, and Agatha felt her heartbeat quicken. She didn’t want to feel like this, but Rio had a way of pushing her buttons.

"Let me know when you’re done lecturing me," Agatha snapped, turning toward the door.

But before she could leave, Rio’s voice stopped her. "You know, you’re really good at pretending you don’t care. But it’s obvious you do."

Agatha froze, her hand still on the doorknob. She didn’t turn around, but her heart was beating too loud in her chest. She wasn’t going to let Rio get to her, not again.

"I don’t care," she said, her voice firm but betraying the smallest hint of uncertainty. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have a campaign to run."

Without waiting for a response, Agatha stepped out of the office, the door clicking shut behind her. Her pulse was still racing, her mind spinning. She couldn’t let Rio get under her skin. Not again.

As Agatha made her way down the hall, she was still trying to shake off the tension in the air from her conversation with Rio.

She just wanted to get away, to go back to her office, and push all this nonsense out of her mind. But before she could take another step, she felt a sudden, firm grip on her arm.

She froze, her heart jumping in her chest. Rio’s hand was wrapped around her elbow, pulling her gently but insistently to a stop.

Agatha whipped her head around, her eyes flashing with irritation. "What the hell, Rio?" she snapped, her voice cold and sharp.

Rio didn’t release her arm. Instead, she leaned in just enough to make Agatha feel the weight of her presence. There was no mistaking the intent in her eyes. "You’re running away again," Rio said, her voice low and steady, as if she were stating a fact rather than making an accusation.

Agatha narrowed her eyes, trying to pull her arm free, but Rio held fast. "I’m not running anywhere. Let go of me," she demanded, her tone icy as she tugged against Rio's grip.

But Rio wasn’t done. She stood her ground, her gaze unwavering, studying Agatha like she was trying to figure out some intricate puzzle. "You always do this. You put up walls, hide behind that cold, perfect exterior like it’s all a game to you." Rio’s voice softened slightly, though there was still a bite to it. "But it's exhausting, don’t you think?"

Agatha stared at her for a beat, her chest rising and falling as the tension built between them. Her heart was pounding, and she could feel her irritation mixing with something else—something she couldn’t quite name. She tugged again, more forcefully this time, but Rio didn’t let go.

"I don’t need you to analyze me, Rio," Agatha snapped, her face growing more distant as she composed herself.

"And I don’t need you to follow me down the hall like some—some stalker. I told you, I don’t care what you think."

Rio let out a soft chuckle, her grip loosening just enough for Agatha to finally pull her arm away. But Rio didn’t step back. She stayed close, her eyes locked onto Agatha’s with an intensity that made Agatha’s pulse race, even if she didn’t want it to.

"You say that," Rio said, her voice quieter now, almost like a challenge, "but I’m starting to think you do care, Agatha." Her eyes softened for a fraction of a second, but the fire was still there, simmering just beneath the surface. "You’re not as good at hiding it as you think you are."

Agatha stiffened, her lips pressing together in a thin line. "Get out of my way," she muttered, though the words came out more controlled than she felt.

Rio didn’t move. Instead, she leaned just a bit closer, her voice just low enough for only Agatha to hear. "You’re afraid of something, aren’t you? You can’t stand that I’m the one who’s not afraid to see it. To see you."

The words struck like a blow, but Agatha held her ground. She refused to let Rio see any of her unease, any hint of the truth.

"I’m not afraid of anything," she said with an edge to her voice, though it wavered slightly. She stepped around Rio, pushing past her, though her fingers brushed against Rio’s side, the contact sparking an uncomfortable jolt in her chest. "Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have things to do."

She walked briskly down the hall, determined to get away from Rio, to put some space between them. She could feel Rio’s eyes on her, could sense the weight of the unspoken words still hanging in the air. And she hated how much it affected her.

Behind her, Rio stood still, watching her leave, her expression unreadable. For a moment, there was nothing but the soft hum of the office, the feeling of something thick and unresolved, lingering between them. And Rio couldn’t shake the feeling that they were both heading toward something neither of them fully understood.

**

Rio stood still in the empty hallway, a knot of frustration tightening in her chest. Agatha’s coldness, her refusal to acknowledge the tension between them, was maddening. Rio had tried to break through, tried to get her to show some sign of vulnerability, but Agatha was an expert at shutting people out, at keeping her walls high and thick.

She couldn’t help but wonder if the tension she felt was something real, or just her own perception, tangled up with the way Agatha's sharpness made her feel. Was she imagining it, or was Agatha truly hiding something?

Then, a flashback hit her like a punch to the gut.

It had been about a year ago, shortly after their explosive argument at that gala. Rio had been stewing over the fight for days, trying to make sense of it. It wasn’t just the bill they had fought over—it was everything Agatha stood for. Rio had assumed, back then, that Agatha was just another politician, one who would go whichever way the winds of power blew. But she had underestimated how much it hurt to hear Agatha dismiss the issues she cared about so callously.

And then, not long after that confrontation, Rio had stumbled across an article online. It had caught her off guard, like a punch in the stomach.

Agatha had made a statement during a public speech about “traditional family values,” and how society needed to focus on preserving what she called “the sanctity of marriage.” It wasn’t a public figure calling for legislation, but it was just as damaging—she had framed it as an attack on the LGBT+ community, implying that their rights threatened the fabric of society. Rio had read those words and felt her stomach churn. The hypocrisy, the cruelty of it—Agatha, the woman who held so much power, who could sway people with just a look, had made those comments publicly, as if they meant nothing. As if they were just part of her political maneuvering.

Rio’s fingers tightened against the wall. It wasn’t just a bill anymore—it was Agatha’s entire mindset, her worldview, and how she had the power to shape it. Her words carried weight, far beyond her immediate circles, and Rio knew how much damage that kind of rhetoric could do.

She had been pissed off for days after that article. 

Now, standing here in this empty hallway, Rio’s frustration flared again. She had gotten too close to Agatha, and it was starting to feel like more than just a political rivalry. The more she dug into Agatha’s past, the more she realized how carefully constructed her public persona was. And how much of it was a lie.

Was it possible that the woman she saw at the gala, the one who got under her skin with her sharp, dismissive attitude, was also the one who didn’t even see the harm in what she said? The one who used her platform to tear down what Rio believed in? It made Rio sick, and yet, it also made her want to dig deeper, to uncover the real Agatha, the one behind the polished speeches and calculated moves.

But there was more to it, wasn’t there? It wasn’t just political anymore. It was personal. And Rio couldn’t let go of the feeling that Agatha’s walls weren’t just there to protect herself, but to hide something even deeper. Something that made her just as human as the rest of them.

Rio shook her head, pushing the thought away. She couldn’t afford to get caught up in it. Not now. Not when she was still trying to figure out how to get under Agatha’s skin, how to make her show the world who she really was.

But Rio couldn’t shake the feeling that, deep down, Agatha wasn’t as invulnerable as she wanted the world to believe. And that made Rio want to push even harder.

Rio entered her office, slamming the door behind her with more force than necessary. She needed space. Needed to get away from Agatha, from the constant pull between them that was starting to drive her mad.

Sitting at her desk, she tried to focus on her work, but her mind kept drifting back to Agatha’s cold words, the flicker of something underneath the surface, and how—no matter how hard Agatha tried to pretend otherwise—she could feel that tension building between them. Rio’s pulse still thrummed with the energy of the confrontation. She wasn’t sure whether she hated it or craved it.

With a frustrated sigh, she grabbed her bag and stormed out, heading for lunch. She needed to get away from the office for a bit, to clear her head. As she passed through the hallway, she heard the soft click of a door. Agatha’s office door was slightly ajar, and Rio couldn’t help herself—she peeked inside, just for a second.

What she saw caught her off guard.

Agatha was sitting at her desk, her elbows on the surface, her hand pressed to her forehead like she was trying to stave off a headache. She looked frustrated, like she was struggling with something she couldn’t quite solve. The image was raw, vulnerable—nothing like the cold, composed version of Agatha that everyone else saw.

Rio’s breath caught for a moment before she shook her head, trying to dispel the intrusive thought that this was the Agatha she was starting to uncover. She kept walking, her footsteps echoing down the hallway.

Agatha didn’t hear her approach, but she heard the footsteps retreating, and for some reason, her heart clenched. She tried to push the feeling away—she had no reason to be rattled by Rio, no reason to feel the weight of Rio’s gaze lingering even when she wasn’t around. But Agatha had always been a woman in control, and this mess with Rio was starting to slip through her fingers.

She rubbed her temples, trying to keep her head clear. There was no space for doubt. No space for the chaos she was feeling inside. She didn’t have time for this—didn’t have time for the way Rio made her feel, didn’t have time for any of this.

But still, her anxiety bubbled up, knotting her stomach, squeezing her chest. She tried to shake it off, but it only intensified. She couldn't focus. She couldn't breathe.

She stood up, opened her office door and glanced at the elevator, almost instinctively.

What the hell was happening to her?

She got out of the office and paced the room, her heels clicking against the floor. Then, without thinking, she walked to the elevator. She pressed the button to call it.

She felt her chest tight and her breath heavy.

Everything felt blurry.

She waited. Looked around, checking if anyone was watching. No one.

So she pressed the button again, and again, again. Her finger trembling slightly as she did. The elevator doors finally slid open. She stepped inside quickly, the cool air inside doing nothing to settle the storm raging in her chest.

And then she saw her.

Rio was standing there, in the elevator, with her arms crossed over her chest, looking up at her like she had no idea what Agatha was doing there.

Agatha’s breath hitched. “What the hell are you doing here?”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her expression a mix of amusement and annoyance. “I’m about to grab lunch, Agatha. What does it look like I’m doing here?”

Agatha stepped in, her movements stiff, still trembling, but she didn’t say anything. She couldn’t. The words were stuck in her throat, like she was choking, and she was struggling to keep the mask of control on her face. The truth was, she had been looking for Rio. She had followed her instinctively, hoping to escape her own tangled emotions, only to end up in this situation.

The elevator doors closed, and it began its descent.

Agatha’s heart raced, and she gripped the railing to steady herself. She tried to ignore Rio standing next to her, tried to focus on the sound of the elevator’s hum. But the tension between them, the electricity, was unbearable. Agatha could feel Rio’s gaze on her, could feel the weight of it pressing down on her. She hated how much it made her body react. 

“So, this is your big escape?” Rio broke the silence, her voice teasing but with an edge to it. “Hiding in the elevator?”

Agatha kept her eyes forward. “I’m not hiding. I just need a break.” She felt the cold sweat radiating from her skin.

“From what?” Rio asked, her voice low, curious. “From everything?”

Agatha shot her a look, but didn’t answer. She couldn’t afford to. The moment Rio started asking too many questions, she might faint.

The elevator dinged as it reached the ground floor. Agatha stepped out quickly, but Rio followed, her presence still looming like a weight in the air.

Agatha didn’t look at her as she walked toward the exit, but she could feel Rio’s eyes on her, could sense her waiting for a response. But Agatha wasn’t ready to give anything away.

Agatha’s chest tightened again, and she quickened her pace, desperate to leave before she lost herself to whatever this was.

As she hurried towards the exit, trying to put as much space as possible between herself and Rio, the tension in her chest only grew heavier. The cold air outside did nothing to calm her nerves; in fact, it felt like the world was spinning faster around her. Her breaths came too quickly, too shallow, and her pulse raced uncontrollably.

Her feet seemed to move of their own accord, carrying her farther from the office, farther from the chaos of her thoughts. But it wasn’t enough. Nothing was enough.

Her head was pounding now, each thought like a drumbeat echoing in her skull. She tried to steady herself, taking in sharp breaths, but the pressure in her chest only worsened. She could feel the familiar, suffocating grip of anxiety closing in on her, squeezing out all her air.

No. Not here. Not now. I can’t do this.

She gripped the railing outside the building, her knuckles turning white as she leaned forward, trying to force herself to breathe.

The sound of footsteps behind her broke through the haze of her panic, and she knew without turning that it was Rio. She knew it by the way the air felt, the weight of her presence behind her.

“Agatha?” Rio’s voice was softer than usual, but there was still a hint of that same edge. “Hey. You good?”

Agatha didn’t respond, didn’t move. She just focused on the frantic beats of her heart, trying to steady the storm that raged inside her.

“Hey,” Rio said again, her voice firmer this time, closer. “Agatha. Look at me.”

Agatha wanted to push her away, to tell her to leave her alone, but the words wouldn’t come. Her throat felt too tight, suffocating under the weight of her own emotions. She couldn’t even explain what was happening to herself, let alone to Rio.

Rio stepped closer, her presence a physical force, and for a moment, Agatha thought she might collapse under the weight of it. She could feel Rio’s gaze on her, felt her fingers brushing her shoulder as Rio reached out tentatively.

“What’s going on?” Rio’s voice was quieter now, more gentle, like she was trying to break through the walls Agatha had put up. “Talk to me.”

Agatha shook her head, her chest constricting with every breath she tried to take. She couldn’t do this—not with Rio, not with anyone. She didn’t want to seem weak. She couldn’t let anyone see how out of control she was, how much she was falling apart.

“You’re not fine,” Rio said softly, almost as if to herself. She moved closer, her hand now resting lightly on Agatha’s arm, the touch almost comforting in a way Agatha wasn’t prepared for.

“I’m fine,” Agatha managed to force out, her voice thick and strained, “I just need some air.”

Rio didn’t seem convinced. “You’re not fine, Agatha.” Her fingers tightened around Agatha’s arm ever so slightly, grounding her, but Agatha couldn’t focus on anything other than the pounding in her head and the overwhelming dizziness threatening to swallow her whole.

“Just... go away, Rio,” Agatha finally managed, her voice barely above a whisper, full of that biting coldness she always used as a shield. “I’m not in the mood.”

But Rio didn’t go. Instead, she shifted so that she was standing directly in front of Agatha, forcing her to meet her gaze. Agatha fought it, but Rio’s presence was impossible to ignore.

“Look at me,” Rio said, her tone insistent but not unkind. She waited until Agatha reluctantly raised her eyes. “I don’t know what’s going on with you, but you don’t have to pretend with me. You’re not alone in this.”

Agatha felt a lump form in her throat, and despite herself, a tear slid down her cheek. She wiped it away quickly, furious at herself for showing even that small crack of weakness.

“I’m not weak,” she muttered through gritted teeth. “I’m fine. Just... leave me alone.”

But Rio didn’t leave. Instead, she moved a little closer, keeping a careful distance but still present. “You don’t have to do this alone, Agatha. Whatever it is, I’m here.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, and the panic continued to rise, a wave crashing over her. Her hands started to shake, her vision blurring at the edges. She couldn’t stop it anymore.

With one last shaky breath, she turned away from Rio, pressing her hands to her face as her body finally gave in to the attack. Her knees buckled, and she collapsed against the railing, feeling the world tilt as the anxiety spiraled faster.

Rio didn’t hesitate. She was by Agatha’s side in an instant, one arm slipping around her waist to steady her as Agatha fought for control. The simple touch felt like too much and yet exactly what Agatha needed, though she would never admit it aloud.

Rio didn’t leave. She couldn’t. She stayed close, not allowing Agatha to retreat, her presence grounding and steady. When Agatha took a shaky step forward, Rio stepped with her, guiding her without a word. She could feel the tension in Agatha’s stiff body, but she didn’t back off. Instead, she leaned closer, her voice gentle but firm.

“Come on, let’s get somewhere quiet, okay? Just... follow me.”

Agatha didn’t respond, but she didn’t pull away either. She stumbled slightly, too caught up in the storm of emotions and panic that had gripped her. Rio moved in front of her, not waiting for permission, just taking charge for once. She led her down the hall, her hand resting lightly at the small of Agatha’s back, guiding her without pressure. The touch was firm but not too forceful.

They stepped back inside the building, into a small, dimly lit room, one of the conference rooms that was hardly ever used. Rio gently shut the door behind them, the sound of it clicking locked out the noise from the rest of the building. The silence was immediate and thick, but Agatha’s breathing was all Rio could hear.

Agatha leaned against the table, both hands pressed to her forehead, her chest rising and falling in shallow, erratic breaths. Rio stood a few feet away, watching her, gauging her every move.

Agatha’s voice broke through the tension. “I’m fine. I don’t need—” She stopped mid-sentence, her face contorting with discomfort, her hands trembling uncontrollably. She closed her eyes, but that only made the spinning world feel worse.

Rio’s gaze softened, but she didn’t let Agatha push her away. Instead, she moved closer, standing just a step away now. “You’re not fine, Agatha. Just breathe with me. In, out. Focus on my voice. Just breathe.”

Agatha’s eyes flickered open briefly, her gaze blurry, but she didn’t protest. She hated how helpless she felt—how everything inside her was unraveling with no way to stop it. Rio was still there, too close, but not touching her in a way that felt like an invasion. It was just... her presence. And somehow, that made it worse. It made the room feel smaller. The air thinner.

“Come on, Agatha,” Rio’s voice was insistent now, but still calm. “You’re okay. You’re going to be okay.”

Agatha felt herself sway slightly, her hands gripping the edge of the table as if it were the only thing anchoring her. The world blurred again, and the walls of the small room seemed to close in on her. She could feel the overwhelming sensation of helplessness creeping up again, and her breath came faster, more frantic.

“I can’t... breathe…” Agatha whispered, her voice breaking, the fight against the panic attack becoming more futile with every passing second.

“Just breathe. It’s just you and me right now,” Rio said softly, still keeping her distance but making sure Agatha knew she wasn’t going anywhere.

Agatha closed her eyes again, trying to focus on the steady rhythm of Rio’s voice, but it wasn’t enough. The room spun. The ground felt like it was shifting beneath her, and her hands gripped the table harder, nails digging into the surface.

“I can’t… I can’t do this. I can’t breathe,” Agatha said through gritted teeth, the panic rising, suffocating her.

Rio stepped forward, closer now. She reached out, her hand hovering for just a moment before it settled gently on Agatha’s shoulder. The touch was light, careful, but it grounded her. “You’re breathing, Agatha. You’re okay.”

Agatha’s breath came in gasps, erratic and sharp, but the moment Rio’s hand touched her, she felt the wave of anxiety crash down harder. The touch felt like a violation, like something she couldn’t control, something she didn’t want, but it was too much, too intense. It all spun into a whirlwind.

Agatha stumbled backward, pressing her hands to her face, as if hiding from herself. “I... I can’t. Please, just leave me alone…”

Rio hesitated, but didn’t back away. Instead, she stepped closer, her voice now softer, more insistent, but without the harsh edge. “I’m not going anywhere, Agatha. You don’t have to push me away.”

Agatha’s chest tightened as she tried to fight against the anxiety squeezing her from the inside. She felt tears pricking at the corners of her eyes, but she quickly blinked them away. She was not going to break. Not like this.

“Just breathe with me,” Rio repeated, gently guiding her into a seat on the chair beside the table, not allowing her to collapse. Rio moved around her, making sure Agatha felt secure, her hands hovering at her side. “In and out. Slow. Just let it go.”

Agatha shook her head, her hands trembling, feeling like a failure. But Rio didn’t let her pull away this time. Rio’s voice was unwavering, calm, guiding her like a lifeline through the storm inside her head.

And slowly, Agatha’s breathing began to steady, her chest no longer rising and falling so erratically. But she still couldn’t look Rio in the eye. Not now. Not when she felt so exposed, so raw.

Rio stood there, just a few inches away, but her presence was somehow calming, like a force she couldn’t escape but also couldn’t fight.

“You’re okay,” Rio whispered softly, her voice low, steady. “I’m right here.”

Agatha’s heart hammered in her chest, but the panic attack finally started to subside. Still, she couldn’t fully shake the feeling that something inside her had changed, that the space between her and Rio had shifted in a way she couldn’t quite understand.

She wanted to push Rio away. To send her away. To do anything but feel what she was feeling. But, for now, she couldn’t. Not yet. Not when everything inside her was falling apart, piece by piece.

Chapter Text

Rio leaned back against the edge of the table, crossing her arms, her gaze fixed on Agatha.

She didn’t say anything at first, letting the silence stretch thin between them. Agatha was still, her breaths more even now, though her face was a portrait of stubborn resolve. When Rio finally spoke, her tone was low but pointed.

“What the fuck was that?”

Agatha stiffened, her fingers curling over the edge of the chair. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

“Bullshit,” Rio snapped, pushing off the table and taking a step closer. “Don’t do that. Don’t sit there and pretend like you didn’t just—” She cut herself off, gesturing vaguely toward the door. “Have a full-blown meltdown on your way out of the elevator. What triggered it?”

“I don’t owe you an explanation,” Agatha bit out, her voice cold and clipped. She stood abruptly, smoothing the wrinkles from her blazer with trembling hands.

Rio didn’t back down. “Maybe not, but you scared the hell out of me back there. One minute, you’re ice-cold and untouchable, and the next, you’re—”

“Stop,” Agatha hissed, her voice low and sharp. She finally looked at Rio, her eyes blazing with an anger that felt too raw to be entirely genuine. “Just stop.”

Rio held her ground, her jaw tightening. “Fine. Don’t tell me. But don’t sit here and act like nothing happened. You’re not as composed as you like to think, Congresswoman.”

Agatha’s lip curled at the way Rio said her title, dripping with mockery. “And you’re not as clever as you think, Miss Vidal.”

Rio’s smirk was immediate, taunting. “Oh, I’m clever enough to know you’re lying through your teeth right now.”

Agatha turned away, heading toward the door with quick, determined steps. “If this is your way of checking on me, don’t bother. I’m fine.”

“You’re not fine,” Rio shot back, her voice rising slightly. “You don’t just—” She exhaled sharply, trying to rein in her frustration.

“Look, whatever’s eating at you, it’s not my business, right? But don’t stand there and act like you’re untouchable when you’re clearly not.”

Agatha paused at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. She didn’t look back. “What do you want from me, Rio? A confession? An apology? Well, you’re not getting one.”

Rio let out a humorless laugh. “Trust me, I’m not holding my breath. But if you keep bottling this up, it’s going to explode. Maybe next time it’ll happen in front of someone who doesn’t give a damn.”

Agatha turned her head just slightly, enough for Rio to catch the edge of her profile. Her voice was quiet but still brimming with defiance. “There won’t be a next time.”

Before Rio could respond, Agatha opened the door and stepped out, letting it close firmly behind her.

**

Rio stayed in the room for a moment, staring at the now-closed door. Her fists clenched at her sides, her body taut with unspent frustration. She ran a hand through her hair, letting out a slow, exasperated breath.

“What the fuck is wrong with her?” she muttered to no one in particular.

She grabbed her phone from the table and shoved it into her pocket before heading out. The hallway was empty now, but her mind was anything but.

As she walked back toward her office, her thoughts spun in a chaotic loop. The way Agatha had looked at her in those fleeting moments of vulnerability—it stuck with her, like a splinter she couldn’t quite reach to pull out.

Why did she care so much? Why did it get under her skin every time Agatha let her guard down, only to slam it back into place even harder?

Because there was something there. Something unspoken but electric. Something Rio couldn’t quite put into words, but she felt it every time they were in the same room.

She turned a corner, nearly running into Jen, who blinked at her in surprise.

“Rio, you okay?” Jen asked, her eyes narrowing slightly.

Rio forced a grin, the kind she used when she didn’t want to talk. “Peachy. Just needed some air.”

Jen didn’t look convinced, but she didn’t press. As Rio continued walking, her mind returned to Agatha, to the flash of panic in her eyes, to the way her voice had cracked despite her efforts to stay composed.

She thought about following her. Thought about pushing harder, breaking through whatever wall Agatha kept between them.

But no. Not yet.

Instead, she made her way out of the building, heading for the street. Maybe some distance would help. Maybe it wouldn’t.

**

Agatha stepped out of the building, her heart still hammering in her chest despite the cool breeze that greeted her. She pulled her phone from her bag with trembling fingers, dialing a number she rarely used but had memorized all the same.

“Hello?” a familiar voice answered after the second ring.

“I need to see you,” Agatha said quickly, her voice low, almost a whisper. “It can’t wait.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then, “Alright. Come in an hour. Is everything okay?”

Agatha glanced over her shoulder, half-expecting to see Rio storming out after her. She shook her head, even though the person on the line couldn’t see her. “No. I’ll be there.” She ended the call abruptly and tucked the phone back into her bag.

Her driver pulled up moments later, and she slid into the back seat. “Just, drive,” she instructed curtly.

“Yes, ma’am,” the driver replied, pulling away from the curb without question.

Agatha stared out the window, the city blurring past her. Her reflection stared back, pale and composed, but she could see the cracks just below the surface.

Her mind was a cacophony of thoughts—fragments of Rio’s voice, the piercing way she had looked at her, the humiliation of being caught so exposed.

She tried to push it all down, to compartmentalize as she always did, but her chest tightened with each attempt.

The driver’s voice cut through her spiraling thoughts. “Where to, ma’am?”

Agatha hesitated for only a second. “Westside Clinic. Pull into the back lot.”

The rest of the drive was silent except for the hum of the city outside. Agatha didn’t bother to check her messages or scroll through emails; her hands remained clasped tightly in her lap.

**

When the car finally stopped, she stepped out, smoothing her blazer as if it could shield her from the weight pressing down on her. The building loomed ahead, unassuming but familiar. She walked in through the side entrance, avoiding the main reception area, and headed straight to the elevator.

Her therapist’s office was on the fifth floor, and as she stepped into the room, the smell of lavender and leather-bound books greeted her.

“Agatha,” Dr. Harris said warmly, gesturing toward the couch. “This is... unexpected.”

She nodded, sitting down and crossing her legs tightly. “I called in sick. I couldn’t—I couldn’t be there today.”

Dr. Harris took a seat across from her, pen in hand. “What’s going on?”

Agatha hesitated, her throat tightening. “I... I had an episode at work. An anxiety attack.”

His brow furrowed slightly. “What triggered it?”

She looked away, her hands clenching the fabric of her skirt. “I don’t know,” she said, though the lie tasted bitter. “It just... happened.”

“Agatha,” Dr. Harris said gently, “we’ve talked about this. Anxiety doesn’t come out of nowhere. Something pushed you to this point. What was it?”

Her jaw tightened, and for a long moment, she didn’t speak. Finally, she muttered, “Someone.”

“Someone? Evanora again?”

She nodded, her eyes fixed on a spot on the floor. “Not this time, no. There’s this person at work. She...” Agatha faltered, exhaling sharply. “She gets under my skin. Always has. But lately, it’s worse.”

Dr. Harris tilted his head, studying her carefully. “Worse how?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped, her frustration boiling over. “She just—she’s always there. Always pushing, always questioning. And I—”

She stopped abruptly, her cheeks flushing.

Dr. Harris leaned forward slightly. “And you what?”

Agatha pressed her fingers to her temples, her voice dropping to a whisper. “I can’t stop thinking about her. She infuriates me, but she’s... I don’t know.”

Dr. Harris didn’t respond immediately, giving her space to untangle her thoughts.

Finally, she lifted her head, meeting his gaze with a mix of defiance and vulnerability. “It’s not what you’re thinking.”

“What do you think I’m thinking?”

She shook her head, standing abruptly. “Forget it. This was a mistake.”

“Agatha,” he said calmly, “you called me for a reason. If you’re ready to face whatever this is, I can help. But only if you’re honest—with me, and with yourself.”

She hesitated at the door, her hand hovering over the handle. “I don’t know if I can do that.”

“Then let’s start with something smaller,” he suggested. “What’s the first word that comes to mind when you think about her?”

Agatha froze, her pulse pounding in her ears. The word came to her instantly, unbidden, and it terrified her.

“Chaos.”

Agatha clenched the arm of the couch, her knuckles white as she hovered at the edge of flight. But something in Dr. Harris’s voice—calm, steady—rooted her to the spot. Her hand fell away from the door handle, and she turned back slowly, her posture rigid. 

Dr. Harris sensed Agatha would keep talking if he didn't push. So, we waited. 

Agatha finally spoke.

“I’m not doing this,” she said, her voice sharp but faltering. “I don’t need to... unpack anything.”

Dr. Harris remained seated, his pen poised but not moving. “You don’t need to, but you called me for a reason, Agatha. Something brought you here today, something bigger than an anxiety attack.”

She crossed her arms tightly, her nails digging into her sleeves. “I told you. It’s just work. Stress. It happens.”

“Does it?” he pressed gently, his tone neutral. “Or is this about something deeper? Something you’ve been trying to suppress?”

Her jaw tightened, and she turned her head away, staring out the window. “You don’t understand. I’m not... I’m not like that.”

“Like what?” Dr. Harris asked, leaning forward slightly.

Agatha’s gaze snapped back to him, her eyes sharp. “You know what I mean.”

“I don’t,” he said simply. “But I think you do.”

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, the familiar weight of shame pressing down on her. “I’m not interested in women,” she spat, the words bitter and clipped. “That’s not who I am.”

Dr. Harris studied her for a moment, then set his pen down. “Why is it so important to you to deny this?”

“Because it’s not true!” she snapped, her voice cracking at the edges. “Because I’m not like that. I’ve never been like that.”

He tilted his head, his expression patient but unyielding. “Agatha, when was the first time someone told you who you had to be?”

She froze, the question slicing through her defenses. Memories she had long buried clawed their way to the surface—her mother’s stern voice, the suffocating expectations, the relentless pressure to be perfect.

“Your mother,” Dr. Harris said softly, filling in the silence.

Agatha flinched, her arms wrapping around herself like a shield. “She wanted what was best for me.”

“Or what she thought was best,” he countered. “What did she tell you about being... different?”

Agatha’s laugh was bitter, sharp. “She didn’t have to say much. She made it clear in every other way. The way she looked at people she didn’t approve of, the things she said about them behind closed doors.”

“And about you?”

“She always said I had to set an example,” Agatha muttered, her voice barely above a whisper. “That I had to be strong, respectable. Perfect. Anything less was a failure—not just mine, but hers.”

Dr. Harris leaned back slightly, giving her space as her words tumbled out.

“She hated anything that made me look weak,” Agatha continued, her voice trembling. “She said people like... like that were selfish, immoral. That they’d never amount to anything. They were not... following the natural order of all things.”

“And you internalized that,” Dr. Harris said gently.

Agatha’s eyes flashed with anger, but it wasn’t directed at him. “I didn’t have a choice,” she hissed. “Do you know what it’s like to grow up with someone constantly reminding you that you’re not allowed to feel anything outside of their version of normal?”

“I can imagine,” he said softly. “But you’re not a child anymore, Agatha. You can define your own normal.”

Her laugh was hollow. “You think it’s that easy? You think I can just... rewrite everything she drilled into my head? That I can ignore years of her telling me I was evil for even thinking differently?”

“No” he admitted, “but you can start small. By acknowledging the truth—even if it’s just to yourself.”

Agatha shook her head, her hands gripping the edge of the couch so tightly that her knuckles turned white. “You don’t get it. Even if I wanted to—” She stopped herself, the words dying on her tongue.

Dr. Harris leaned forward again. “Wanted to what?”

Her throat tightened, and for a moment, she couldn’t breathe. The truth clawed at her, desperate to escape, but the weight of years of repression held it back. Finally, she whispered, “It doesn’t matter. I can’t.”

“Why not?”

“Because it’ll destroy everything,” she said, her voice breaking. “Everything I’ve worked for. Everything I’ve built. People like me don’t get to... to be that.”

Dr. Harris let the silence settle between them, his gaze steady. “People like you? Or the person your mother wanted you to be?”

Agatha’s lips parted, but no sound came out. Tears pricked at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them away, unwilling to let them fall.

“You’re not her, Agatha,” he said softly. “You’re allowed to feel. You’re allowed to be more than the version of yourself she created.”

She sat there, frozen, her mind a storm of conflict. The room felt too small, the walls too close.

“I don’t know how,” she admitted finally, her voice barely audible.

“You’ve already started,” he said gently. “By coming here. By saying these things out loud. It’s a process, Agatha. And it’s okay to take it one step at a time.”

Agatha's posture stiffened again as Dr. Harris leaned forward, his hands resting lightly on his notepad. His expression was calm, but his eyes probed her carefully, as though he were trying to peel back the layers she’d spent decades perfecting.

“Let’s talk about what happened in the office today,” he said gently. “Why do you think being around her triggers such a strong response in you?”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “It doesn’t. She’s just... frustrating, that’s all.”

“Frustrating how?”

“She’s arrogant. She always has to have the last word,” Agatha shot back, her tone clipped. “She thinks she knows everything. And she’s constantly testing me—pushing me, like she’s trying to prove something.”

Dr. Harris tapped his pen against the notepad thoughtfully. “And how does that make you feel?”

“I just told you. Frustrated,” she said, her voice rising slightly.

“That’s not a feeling,” he said calmly. “Frustration is a reaction. What’s underneath that? Is it anger? Embarrassment? Or something else?”

Agatha opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her hands curled into fists on her lap, nails digging deep into her palms. “I don’t know. She just gets under my skin.”

“Why do you think that is?”

“I don’t know,” she snapped, then sighed heavily. “Maybe because she’s so... infuriatingly confident. She’s always looking at me like she knows something I don’t.”

“Does she?”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, and her gaze darted to the window, avoiding his. “No. She doesn’t know anything about me.”

Dr. Harris tilted his head slightly. “You don’t sound convinced.”

“I don’t care what she thinks she knows,” Agatha bit out. “She’s irrelevant.”

“And yet, here you are,” he pointed out, his tone soft but unrelenting. “Talking about her. Calling me, needing to process something about her.”

Agatha’s throat worked as she swallowed hard. “It’s just a phase,” she muttered, almost to herself.

“What is?”

“This... this weird tension,” she said, waving a hand dismissively. “It’s nothing. It’ll pass.”

Dr. Harris leaned back, watching her carefully. “Has it ever happened before? Feeling this way around someone?”

“No,” she said quickly, a little too forcefully.

He didn’t respond immediately, letting the silence settle between them. Finally, he asked, “Are you sure?”

Agatha hesitated, her eyes narrowing as memories she’d long buried surfaced against her will. “Maybe... once. A long time ago. But it was nothing.”

“Tell me about it.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her gaze flicking to the clock on the wall as though hoping time might save her. When it didn’t, she exhaled sharply. “It was in high school,” she admitted reluctantly. “I was a cheerleader, and there was this girl on the squad—Sophia. She was... different. Bold. She didn’t care what anyone thought.”

“And how did you feel about her?”

Agatha’s brow furrowed, her hands gripping her knees tightly. “I don’t know. I was curious, I guess. About... her confidence. About the way she carried herself.”

“Was it just curiosity?”

“Yes,” she said quickly, then faltered. “I mean... maybe I thought about her a little more than I should have, but that’s normal, right? Girls get curious about other girls. It doesn’t mean anything.”

“Did it mean anything to you?”

“No,” she said firmly, though her voice wavered. “It was just... I was curious about the female body. That’s all. It didn’t cross my mind that it was anything more.”

Dr. Harris raised an eyebrow. “Why not?”

“Because it wasn’t,” she insisted, her voice rising slightly. “And because my mother made sure I didn’t have time to think about things like that.”

“How so?”

“She had plans for me,” Agatha said bitterly. “She introduced me to Henry, the son of one of her lawyer friends. He was handsome, polite, everything she thought a perfect boyfriend should be. We started dating, and that was it.”

“That was it?”

“All of my... discoveries, my firsts, were with him,” she said, her voice quieter now. “Kissing, sex... everything. There was no time to think about anything else. No space to question anything. Sure, I've kissed a couple of girls after we broke up, but that was drunk - and friendly - kisses. I've never done anything like that to a deeper level.”

Dr. Harris let her words linger in the air before speaking. “And yet, here you are. Questioning.”

Agatha’s head snapped up, her eyes blazing. “I’m not questioning anything. I know who I am.”

“Do you?” he asked gently. “Or do you know who you were told to be?”

Her breath hitched, and she looked away, her vision blurring as tears threatened to fall. “I can’t... I can’t think like that. It’s too late to change anything now.”

“It’s never too late,” he said softly. “But you have to be willing to face the truth, Agatha—even if it’s uncomfortable. Even if it challenges everything you’ve been told to believe.”

She closed her eyes, her body trembling as she fought to hold herself together. “I don’t know if I can,” she whispered.

“You don’t have to figure it all out right now,” he said. “But you’ve already taken the first step—acknowledging that maybe there’s something worth exploring. That’s enough for today.”

Agatha nodded faintly, though her mind was a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As she left his office, the weight of his words lingered, pressing down on her like a storm she couldn’t outrun.

**

Agatha stepped into her home, the silence of the space both comforting and suffocating.

She dropped her bag onto the entry table, her movements mechanical as she walked to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of wine.

The therapist’s words echoed in her mind, refusing to be silenced.

Do you know who you are? Or who you were told to be?

Her grip on the whiskey glass tightened as she took a long sip, the warmth of the alcohol doing little to calm her nerves. She moved to the couch, sinking into the plush cushions, and stared blankly at her laptop on the coffee table.

For a long moment, she just sat there, the tension in her chest refusing to dissipate. Then, almost impulsively, she reached for the laptop and opened it. Her fingers hovered over the keyboard, hesitating.

What am I even doing?

Her jaw clenched, and she forced herself to type the words into the search bar. The screen filled with thumbnails, and Agatha’s pulse quickened. Her eyes darted over the images, her stomach twisting with both curiosity and shame.

She clicked on one almost at random, her hands trembling slightly as the video began to play. The sounds, the movements—everything felt foreign and yet strangely magnetic. She leaned back, trying to let herself watch, to feel something, to see if there was any truth to the things she was too afraid to confront.

A warmth began to build in her stomach, subtle at first but undeniable. Her breath hitched, and she shifted uncomfortably, her body reacting in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

One of the girls on her screen was playing with the other's chest. She licked her nipples. Pressed her mouth all over her. She bit the tips. Sucked.

The other let out some loud moans. Rapidly, she turned the blonde one around and got herself on top of her.

She grinded her hips, slowly.

The sounds were something Agatha never thought she might like to hear. 

She kept staring. Her laptop always at a safe distance - like she was trying to keep herself from staring to close. 

One of them kneeled in front of the other. Using her hands to push open her legs.

She put her mouth to the other's cunt. She savoured the taste. 

Pushed two fingers inside - and Agatha opened her mouth at the sight. 

"I'm gonna..."

"Oh, god, I can't hold it much longer"

"Please, please"

"Hmmm, dont. Stop."

Their words start to echo in Agatha's mind and she felt herself getting wet. Her right hand placed slowly over the fabric of her pants. 

She started to circle the fabric over her clit - like the distance imposed by her clothes was making everything seem less real. 

"Harder. Faster."

"Yes. Just- Hmmm. Just - like t-that."

"Oh my g-god"

"Come for me"

"I wanna feel you come all over my mouth."

Agatha pressed her fingers with more strenght. She let out a soft moan at the sight of the woman on her screen starting to come undone.

But then, the guilt hit her, hard and fast.

Agatha slammed the laptop shut, the sudden silence in the room deafening. She pressed her palms against her face, breathing heavily, as if trying to scrub away the thoughts and sensations that had overtaken her.

“This isn’t me,” she whispered to herself, her voice trembling. “Fuck. It’s not.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and she stood abruptly, pacing the length of the living room. She felt sick—ashamed, confused, and angry all at once. Her mother’s voice echoed in her mind, sharp and unforgiving. You’re better than this, Agatha. You have a reputation to uphold. 

The pressure in her chest was suffocating, and she downed the rest of her glass in one gulp, her hand shaking as she set the glass back down. She couldn’t do this—couldn’t face whatever it was that had been awakened inside her.

For the first time in years, she felt completely untethered, like the carefully constructed persona she’d spent her entire life building was starting to crack. And she didn’t know how to stop it.

Chapter Text

Agatha straightened her blazer, her posture rigid as she entered the conference room. The glass walls framed the city skyline, but the air inside was thick with tension. Rio was already there, seated at the far end of the long table, scrolling through her phone.

When Rio saw her, she gave her a look that Agatha pretended not to notice.

“Congresswoman,” Rio greeted, her tone clipped, but her eyes glimmered with something unspoken.

“Vidal” Agatha replied, curtly. She placed her folder on the table, carefully keeping her movements deliberate and controlled. She would not let Rio get under her skin today.

“We need to strategize,” Agatha said, sitting down. “Cadwell’s team just released a statement about the urban development bill. They’re twisting it—claiming it’ll hurt small businesses. We need to get ahead of this narrative.”

Rio leaned back in her chair, her expression unreadable. “Cadwell’s not twisting anything. He’s outright lying. The man doesn’t know how to differentiate fact from fiction if his life depended on it.”

Agatha sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “It doesn’t matter. Lies stick if they’re repeated enough. We need to counter it with a strong, unified message.”

Rio tilted her head, watching her intently. “Unified? Coming from you, that’s rich.”

Agatha shot her a sharp look. “Don’t start, Rio. This isn’t about whatever differences we have. This is about keeping that man out of office.”

“Noted” Rio said, raising her hands in mock surrender. “What’s the plan?”

Agatha opened her folder and began laying out the talking points, her voice calm and methodical. Rio listened, occasionally interjecting with pointed questions or suggestions. It was professional, but the undercurrent of tension was palpable.

When they’d worked through the messaging, Rio leaned forward, her expression more serious. “Cadwell’s team is planning a fundraiser at that private club downtown tomorrow. Rumor has it they’ve got some big donors lined up.”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “Of course they do. The old boys club always takes care of their own.”

Rio arched a brow. “You say that like you don’t come from that same world.”

Agatha stiffened, her carefully maintained composure faltering for a fraction of a second. “I’m not here to debate my upbringing with you, Rio. I’m here to work.”

“Touchy,” Rio murmured, leaning back again.

Agatha ignored her, focusing on her notes. “We have our own event tonight—an arts gala. It’s a good opportunity to network and solidify our support. I trust you’ll be there?”

“Wouldn’t miss it,” Rio said, her tone laced with sarcasm.

Agatha closed her folder, standing abruptly. “Then I’ll see you there. Let’s try to stay focused on the task at hand, shall we?”

She turned on her heel and left the room, her heels clicking sharply against the polished floor.

**

The gala was a dazzling affair, held in the grand ballroom of one of the city’s historic hotels. Crystal chandeliers cast a warm glow over the crowd, and the sound of a string quartet floated through the air. Agatha entered with her usual poise, her fitted red suit commanding attention as she moved through the room, shaking hands and exchanging pleasantries with donors and constituents.

She spotted Rio across the room, dressed in a tailored black suit, a glass of champagne in hand. Their eyes met briefly before Rio looked away.

Agatha took a deep breath and headed toward a group of patrons, determined to focus on the evening’s agenda. But as the night wore on, their paths inevitably crossed.

“Congresswoman” Rio said, her voice low and teasing as Agatha approached the bar. “You clean up well.” Rio let her gaze fall to Agatha's cleavage. 

Was she not wearing anything underneat the blazer?

Agatha ignored the comment, signaling the bartender for a drink. “Enjoying yourself?”

“Immensely,” Rio replied. She leaned in slightly, her voice dropping. “Though I can’t help but notice you’ve been avoiding me all night.”

Agatha turned to face her, her expression cool. “I wasn’t aware I needed to account for my movements to you.”

Rio chuckled, taking a sip of her champagne. “Relax, Agatha. I’m just here to make sure you don’t screw this up.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. “If you’re done, I have people to speak with.”

She started to walk away, but Rio’s voice stopped her. “Cadwell’s team is going to use every opportunity to paint you as out of touch. You might want to loosen up a bit. Show them you’re more-”

Agatha turned back, her eyes flashing. “More...What? And what would you suggest? Dancing on the tables?”

Rio grinned. “More... Loose. And yeah, that might be a start.”

“Do you ever stop?” she asked, her voice quieter now but no less sharp.

Rio glanced up from her champagne, her smirk almost lazy. “Stop what?”

“Being... you” Agatha replied, gesturing vaguely as if that explained everything.

Rio chuckled, setting her glass down with an infuriating lack of urgency. “And here I thought you liked me this way.”

“I don’t” Agatha snapped, a little too quickly.

Rio straightened, taking a deliberate step closer. “You sure about that, Congresswoman?” Her voice was low, intimate, the way someone might speak in a darkened room rather than in a crowded event.

Agatha’s breath hitched for half a second, and she hated herself for it. “Positive.”

Rio’s eyes flickered to her hand resting on the bar. Slowly, almost imperceptibly, she brushed her fingers against Agatha’s wrist as she reached for her drink. The touch was fleeting, but it sent a jolt up Agatha’s arm.

“Hmm” Rio mused, leaning slightly against the bar. “You don’t seem so positive.”

Agatha pulled her hand back as if burned, glaring at Rio. “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

Rio tilted her head, her grin both mischievous and predatory. “What, exactly?”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t move away. That would feel like a concession, and she wasn’t about to give Rio that satisfaction. “This is exactly why you’ll never be taken seriously. You don’t know when to stop playing games.”

Rio’s eyes gleamed with something dangerous. “And this is why you’ll never be free of that stick lodged firmly up your ass. You don’t know when to stop pretending.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her anger bubbling dangerously close to the surface. “Whatever you think you know, it's not real.”

Rio laughed, soft and mocking. “No? I seem to hit a nerve every damn time, don’t I?”

Agatha stepped closer, her voice a whisper but laced with venom. “Careful. You might start to think you matter.”

“Oh, I matter,” Rio shot back, her voice equally low but with a playful lilt. “If I didn’t, you wouldn’t still be standing here.”

Agatha’s breath came quicker, but she refused to step back. The tension between them was suffocating, the space too small, the air too charged.

“You’re insufferable,” she muttered, though it lacked conviction.

Rio’s smirk softened into something more knowing, almost tender. “And yet, you’re still here.”

Before Agatha could respond, Rio reached out again, this time letting her hand graze Agatha’s arm deliberately as she reached for the napkin holder. The touch lingered just a fraction too long, and Agatha stiffened, her body betraying her as heat surged through her veins.

“You should really loosen up” Rio murmured, her lips curving as she pulled the napkin free.

Agatha took a step back, her head shaking as if she could shake off the sensations crawling under her skin. “You’re impossible.”

“And you're somewhat fascinating,” Rio countered, the words hitting their mark with pinpoint precision.

Before Agatha could answer, Rio took the napkin and put it surrounding her cup, to keep the cold from touching her hands. 

After, she let her other hand touch Agatha's back, while she leaned closer. Agatha was still a bit frozen in time.

Rio then spoke in her ear, sending electricity all over.

"You know" she spoke in a low tone, her hand still brushing her lower back "you should shadow my interactions for a bit. Maybe you could understand how to be more... friendly."

Agatha felt her pulse quicken as Rio’s hand rested lightly against her lower back. The touch was maddeningly casual, just enough to make her hyperaware of every nerve ending in her body. Her skin felt electric beneath Rio’s fingertips, and yet her exterior remained composed, her face a carefully curated mask of indifference.

“I’m plenty friendly,” she said, her voice tight, though she hardly recognized it. It felt distant, a far cry from the storm brewing inside her.

Rio chuckled softly, the sound warm and teasing, brushing against Agatha’s ear like a secret. “Oh, I know. You’re so approachable.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, but she immediately buried it beneath a dry laugh. “Says the woman who makes headlines for being unapologetically rude to reporters.”

“Touché” Rio smirked, taking a sip of her drink. “But I’ve got charm, Congresswoman. That’s what makes all the difference.”

Agatha didn’t respond, couldn’t. Her thoughts were tangled, her body betraying her composure. The faint scent of Rio’s perfume was intoxicating, something soft and woody that lingered between them.

She’s playing games, Agatha told herself. That’s all this is. A game. A way to get under my skin.

And yet, wasn’t she letting her?

Rio shifted slightly closer, her hand sliding just a fraction lower on Agatha’s back as if testing a boundary. The movement was so subtle, so deliberate, that Agatha had to fight the urge to arch away—or toward it. She couldn’t decide which would be worse.

She’s doing this on purpose.

“You’re awfully quiet,” Rio said, her voice smooth and dripping with amusement. Her fingers lingered just at the edge of propriety, a line so thin it was barely noticeable—but Agatha noticed. Every. Single. Second.

“I’m just trying to figure out if this is how you normally behave,” Agatha said, forcing her voice into its usual clipped precision. “Or if you’re going out of your way to be particularly... irritating tonight.”

Rio leaned back slightly, her expression feigning innocence. “Who, me?”

Agatha glared at her, but the intensity only seemed to amuse Rio more. She had the audacity to grin, her eyes flicking briefly to Agatha’s lips before returning to meet her gaze.

For a second, Agatha forgot how to breathe.

She shifted her weight, trying to create some distance, but Rio’s hand stayed where it was, as if it belonged there. It didn’t feel heavy or imposing, just steady—anchoring, almost.

Get a grip. This is ridiculous.

“Relax,” Rio said softly, her tone taking on a sudden gentleness that caught Agatha off guard. “No one’s watching. No one cares.”

But she cared. Too much.

Agatha could feel the heat pooling in her stomach, the uncomfortable flutter of desire that she refused to acknowledge. She thought of her mother’s voice, sharp and disapproving, hissing warnings about appearances, about what was proper.

This isn’t proper.

And yet, she didn’t move.

Her mind raced, desperate to shove the thoughts back into the dark corners where they belonged. She wasn’t going to let Rio win—whatever this was.

But then Rio’s thumb brushed against her lower back, just the smallest of movements, and Agatha’s resolve splintered. Her throat went dry, her heartbeat thundered in her ears.

“Still with me, Congresswoman?” Rio’s voice was teasing, but there was something darker beneath it—something that felt like understanding, like power.

Agatha swallowed hard, forcing herself to meet Rio’s eyes. “Always,” she lied, her tone icy despite the warmth spreading through her chest.

Rio’s smirk deepened, as if she could see right through her. “Good.”

Agatha tensed at the word. 

Good. Like it was some kind of praise.

God, Agatha, get a grip.

Chapter Text

“Close your eyes,” Rio murmured, her voice low and steady, cutting through the tension like a knife through silk.

Agatha blinked, startled, her instincts screaming at her to stay alert, to stay in control.

“What are you—”

“Trust me” Rio interrupted, her tone soft but unyielding, as if daring Agatha to relinquish the tight grip she had on herself.

The challenge in her voice made something twist deep in Agatha’s chest. Against her better judgment, she closed her eyes, her breath catching as her world narrowed to the sounds of their breathing and the faint hum of the city outside.

“Now,” Rio said, her voice closer, sending a shiver down Agatha’s spine. “Imagine for a moment… no expectations, no labels. No congresswoman, no campaigns. Just you.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, her fists clenching at her sides as if holding on to the last threads of her composure.

“That’s impossible,” she whispered, though even to her ears, the words sounded fragile, uncertain.

“Is it?” Rio’s words brushed against her skin, warm and intimate. A moment later, Agatha felt the ghost of a touch—a single fingertip tracing the line of her jaw. It was feather-light but enough to set her nerve endings ablaze.

“Don’t think. Don’t analyze,” Rio continued, her tone coaxing now, a mix of tenderness and command.

“Just. Feel.”

Agatha’s heart pounded as Rio’s fingers trailed lower, brushing against her collarbone, pausing just at the edge of where her blazer concealed her skin. Her breath hitched, her body leaning imperceptibly into the touch before she caught herself.

"I- Rio-" She opened her eyes and looked straight at Rio. 

Rio's face was soft. Her fingers still lingering agaisnt her collarbone.

“Let yourself go. Just this once.”

Agatha hesitated, her mind a storm of conflict. But then, slowly, she let her eyes flutter shut again.

Rio’s touch grew firmer, her hands sliding up to gently cup Agatha’s face. The pads of her thumbs brushed against her cheekbones, grounding her, steadying her.

“Breathe” Rio murmured, her voice grounding, her hands holding Agatha like she was something fragile, precious.

Agatha obeyed, her breaths coming uneven but deep. With every exhale, she felt a piece of the armor she’d built around herself start to crack. Rio’s hands didn’t rush, didn’t push—they simply lingered, waiting, allowing Agatha to decide what came next.

“I’m scared” Agatha admitted finally, her voice a whisper that barely broke the silence.

“I know,” Rio said, her tone steady, her thumbs brushing away tears Agatha didn’t realize had fallen. “But you don’t have to be. Not here. Not with me.”

Agatha didn't respond. I mean, how could she? There were so many inputs in her brain at the time.

Rio's touch.

Rio's words.

Rio. So close to her.

She inhaled deeply, letting herself feel. 

Rio's thumb slowly made it's way to her bottom lip, brushing ever so slightly. 

Her lips parted instinctively, betraying the control she so desperately tried to maintain.

“Good” Rio murmured, her voice low and commanding, sending a pulse of heat through Agatha’s body. “You’re listening.”

Agatha’s eyes snapped open, but Rio’s hand was already there, cupping her jaw, keeping her in place.

“No,” Rio said softly, firmly. “Keep them closed.”

Agatha hesitated, her pride warring with the strange pull Rio had over her. But the way Rio’s thumb lingered on her lip, the way her voice slid under her skin—it made her obey, her eyes fluttering shut again.

“See?” Rio continued, her tone shifting between teasing and control. “That wasn’t so hard, was it?”

Agatha wanted to bite back, to snap at the smugness in Rio’s voice, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, she felt Rio’s fingers tilt her chin upward, her touch both possessive and patient.

“Now” Rio said, her breath warm against Agatha’s cheek, “I want you to stop thinking. No filters.”

Agatha exhaled shakily, her body leaning into Rio’s hand despite the alarms blaring in her mind. She felt Rio’s other hand slide down her side, her fingers tracing the curve of her waist with an almost maddening slowness.

“Do you always have to be in control, Agatha?” Rio’s voice was a quiet challenge, her lips so close they nearly brushed Agatha’s skin. “Or is it just that no one’s dared to take it from you?”

Agatha’s lips parted, a sharp intake of breath betraying her, but she didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Rio hummed softly, a sound that was both amused and satisfied. “That’s what I thought.”

Her hand moved lower, brushing against the bare skin where Agatha’s blouse had shifted slightly. The heat of Rio’s touch was electric, igniting every nerve in Agatha’s body.

“Tell me” Rio murmured, her fingers lingering at Agatha’s hip. “What do you want?”

Agatha’s throat tightened, her pulse hammering as the question hung between them.

“I…” she began, but the words caught in her throat.

Rio’s grip on her waist tightened, just enough to ground her. “Say it,” she urged, her voice a blend of authority and encouragement.

“I want to hear you say it, Agatha.”

Agatha’s lips trembled, her walls crumbling under Rio’s intensity. “I don’t know,” she admitted, her voice barely audible, but it felt like the most honest thing she’d ever said.

Rio leaned closer, her lips brushing Agatha’s ear as she spoke. “Then let me show you.”

Agatha’s voice came out in a whisper, shaky and unsure. “I’ve never… been with a woman before.”

Rio didn’t flinch, didn’t react with surprise or pity. Instead, she smiled, slow and knowing, as if she’d been waiting for this admission.

“I know.”

Agatha’s heart skipped a beat at the certainty in her tone, as if Rio could see right through her. The weight of those two simple words made her knees feel weak, and for a moment, she almost folded—almost let herself lean into the pull she’d been fighting so desperately.

But then, like clockwork, her defenses came roaring back. She straightened her spine and pulled away slightly, shaking her head as if to ward off the heat that threatened to consume her.

“This… this is a mistake,” she muttered, her voice sharper than she intended.

Rio didn’t retreat, didn’t show any sign of disappointment. Instead, she leaned against the edge of the counter, her gaze fixed on Agatha like she was solving a puzzle.

“A mistake?” she asked, her voice light but with an edge of challenge. “Or are you just afraid of what you might find if you stop fighting?”

Agatha said nothing, her jaw tightening as she crossed her arms, trying to shield herself.

Rio stepped closer, closing the distance again, her movements unhurried but deliberate.

“You’re curious, though,” she said, her tone softening just enough to slip under Agatha’s defenses. “Aren’t you?”

Agatha’s breath hitched, and she turned her head slightly, unable to meet Rio’s piercing gaze.

Rio tilted her head, studying her. “Curious about what it feels like to touch me.”

The words hung in the air, heavy and charged. Agatha’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t deny it. She couldn’t.

Rio waited, letting the silence press down on them until it felt unbearable. Then, she asked, her voice low and smooth, “Would you like to watch?”

Agatha’s eyes snapped to Rio’s, wide and startled, her breath caught in her throat. She didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the question or the rush of heat it sent through her.

"Watch?"

"Yes. Watch. Watch how I feel when I have my defenses down."

"I-" 

"You don't have to, though. If you're not ready, It's okay." Rio spoke as she brushed her fingertips agaisnt Agatha's neck.

Rio could clearly see the heat rising in her skin. 

Her pulse thundered in her ears, her skin burning as if every nerve had been set alight.

The pull was too strong, the hunger too immediate.

“Yes” she breathed, the word slipping out before she could second-guess it. Her voice was barely above a whisper, but the intensity in it was unmistakable.

Rio’s smile widened, slow and deliberate, her gaze flickering with something dark and intoxicating.

“Good,” she murmured, her voice low and smooth like silk over stone.

Agatha’s chest heaved as she watched Rio, her eyes locked onto her every movement. She felt like she was free-falling, no ground in sight, but somehow, she didn’t care. Not anymore.

Rio reached out, her fingers brushing Agatha’s wrist with a deliberate softness that made her shiver.

“Come here” she said, the command light but impossible to disobey.

Agatha stepped forward without thinking, her breath shallow, her body buzzing with anticipation. Every instinct screamed at her to stop, to pull back, but she couldn’t. She didn’t want to.

Her eyes roamed Rio’s face, the curve of her lips, the sharp line of her jaw. She wanted—no, needed—something, though she wasn’t entirely sure what. Her thoughts were a mess, tangled and incoherent, but her body knew exactly what it wanted.

“You’re shaking,” Rio said softly, her voice edged with amusement, but there was something else there, too—something reassuring. “Relax, Agatha.”

“I can’t” Agatha whispered, her voice trembling.

Rio’s thumb brushed over the inside of her wrist, slow and deliberate.

“Yes, you can,” she countered. “You just need to let yourself.”

“Show me” Agatha said, her voice raw and quiet, her eyes locked onto Rio’s with an intensity she hadn’t realized she was capable of.

Rio let go of her wrist. Her eyes scanning Agatha for a second.

"Sit down" she ordered, hinting the sofa with a wave of her head. 

Agatha didn't respond. She just sat down. 

Rio's eyes darkened. 

Rio moved with purpose, dragging a low armchair across the room and setting it directly in front of Agatha. The scrape of the legs against the floor sent a shiver up her spine. Rio turned the chair slightly, angling it just enough so that the proximity felt intimate without being oppressive.

“Comfortable?” Rio asked, her voice smooth and laced with something that made Agatha’s stomach twist.

Agatha’s hands gripped the edge of the sofa cushions tightly, her knuckles white as she swallowed hard. “I—” she started, but the words caught in her throat. Comfortable wasn’t the word she’d use.

Rio sat down in the chair, leaning forward slightly, her elbows resting on her knees as she studied Agatha. Her gaze was piercing, her presence magnetic. She reached out, her fingers brushing against Agatha’s knee, and the touch sent a jolt through her.

"I wont touch you. You wont touch me. You will just watch. Understood?"

"Yes" She said, looking down at Rio's hand on her knee.

"Good" Rio said, retrieving her hand from Agatha "Sit back."

Rio’s gaze never wavered as she shifted slightly in the chair, leaning back with an ease that belied the tension crackling between them.

Slowly, deliberately, her fingers reached for the buttons of her shirt. She worked them open one by one, her movements unhurried, her eyes fixed on Agatha’s.

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her chest rising and falling unevenly as the first glimpse of Rio’s skin appeared. Her heart thundered, her mouth dry, yet a growing heat spread through her, undeniable and all-consuming.

“You’re watching” Rio said softly, almost teasing, her lips curving into a sly smile as she slid the shirt off her shoulders. It landed in a careless heap on the armrest of the chair, revealing smooth, golden skin and a black lace bra that left little to the imagination. “Good. I want you to.”

Agatha swallowed hard, her fingers digging into the cushions beneath her. She wanted to look away, to reclaim some semblance of control, but she couldn’t. Her eyes betrayed her, trailing over Rio’s collarbone, down to the curve of her waist, and back up again.

Her body reacted without permission. She felt a dampness between her thighs, a heat that made her squeeze her legs together instinctively, but it did nothing to quell the sensation coursing through her.

Rio noticed, of course. She always noticed.

“Relax” Rio murmured, her tone both commanding and soothing. Her hands moved to the button of her pants, and Agatha’s breath hitched again as she watched Rio undo it with the same deliberate precision.

“Rio…” Agatha’s voice was barely a whisper, her thoughts a chaotic mess as she tried to process the moment.

“Hmm?” Rio responded, her tone casual as if this were the most natural thing in the world. She stood, pushing her pants down her hips and stepping out of them, leaving her in nothing but the lace that hugged her figure.

Agatha’s pulse raced, her body betraying her completely. She shifted in her seat, her thighs pressing together tighter, her nails digging into the fabric of the sofa.

“You’re tense” Rio said, her voice dropping lower as she closed the small distance between them. “You don’t have to be.”

Agatha couldn’t respond. Her body felt like it was on fire, her thoughts tangled in a web of desire and fear. She hated how much Rio affected her, how much she wanted her. But she couldn’t deny it anymore, not when the evidence of her longing was so obvious.

Rio sat back down again. Slightly opening her legs. 

Agatha's gaze didn't know where to land.

Her face.

Her chest.

Her core.

Rapidly, her gaze was fixed in Rio's hand. 

"You know..." Rio spoke, cutting her off her trance "When I'm stressed, this really helps"

"What h-"

Before Agatha could finish her question, her eyes landed once again in Rio's hand. It was slowly making it's way up her own leg. 

She started on her knee.

Then her thight. 

Then... very close to the fabric of her underwear. 

Rio played with the lace of her underwear with her thumb. Teasing her way in.

Agatha clenched her jaw at the sight. The anticipation.

The fucking anticipation.

"Agatha"

"Yes?"

"Do you wanna see what you do to me?" Rio asked, bitting her lip. 

"I- Yes" 

Rio leaned back. Now more aligned to do what she intended. 

Her hand made it's way inside her underwear. Her eyes closed.

Agatha saw as she slowly moved her fingers under the fabric. Then, she heard a wet sound.

She had to supress a moan.

"Hmm, fuck. It's worse than I thought" Rio said, still looking up, not making much eye contact - for now. 

"Worse-" Agatha started talking but was again cut off by the sight of Rio pulling her hand out.

Her fingertips were so wet. 

God, is that all for me?  She thought.

Before she could even react, Rio took her own fingers to her mouth. 

She sucked. Now, making a soft eye contact with Agatha.

"Hmm" she hummed, while sucking. 

Agatha pressed her legs together, hoping it would ease her core. 

It didn't. It made it worse.

She was now dripping from the inside. Her underwear was probably ruined. 

Of course, once again, Rio noticed Agatha shifting her position. She took that as a sign to push even further. 

She stood up, leaving Agatha just inches away from her breasts, still covered. 

"This is amusing, dont you think?" Rio reached for Agatha's jaw, lifting it up with only the tip of her index finger. After all, she said she wouldn't touch her.

"This is... something" Agatha could feel her ears burning, her body screaming for touch, her mind aching for release. 

"Hmmm, yeah. It is." Rio hummed softly, almost, caring?

"Rio" Agatha said, almost a whisper. She looked up. Nervous or almost embarassed for what she was about to ask. 

"Yes?"

"What-" She cleared her throat "What does it taste like?"

Rio smirked. 

"You never tasted yourself?" she asked amused.

"I- Well... No." Agatha looked down like Rio was about to make fun of her.

"Hey," Rio tilted her head up again with her fingertip "Eyes on me."

Agatha looked at her and she continued "It tastes... It tastes like I could never get enough. But, you would have to find that out for yourself." Rio whispered.

"How?" Agatha muttered under her breath

Rio leaned foward, her lips close to Agatha's ear "I think you know"

Agatha's whole body shivered at those words.

Rio then, shifted her body up again. She stood up in front of Agatha and walked to the back of the couch. Standing right behind her. 

She traced the back of Agatha's neck, craving her fingers through her hair. She pulled back slightly agaisnt the couch, grounding Agatha in place.

She leaned over and was once again in Agatha's ear. 

"Unzip your pants" and then she added "please"

Agatha’s chest rose and fell quickly as she fought to maintain composure, but her body betrayed her—the heat building in her core was undeniable.

Her heart was pounding in her chest, every nerve on fire as she tried to push the warmth coursing through her away.

"Just think about how pleased I would be, seeing you taste yourself." Rio whispered.

She shifted in her seat, the fabric of her clothes suddenly too tight, too hot.

Without even thinking, her hand flew to her zip. Slowly pushing it down. 

Rio's breath in her neck. The feeling of knowing she was right there, behind her, watching her every move - that was awakening something in her. 

Rio’s lips curled into a knowing smile as she saw the tension in Agatha’s body, and she leaned in just a little closer, her breath warm now against Agatha’s ear.

"Good girl" she hissed "Now, slide your hand inside."

And so she did. 

Rio’s eyes were dark, hungry, and her lips parted. When she noticed Agatha reaching her cunt, she let out a moan, soft but hungry enough for her to know how pleased she was.

"Hmmmm, that's it. That's it, Agatha." 

Agatha’s heart raced, but she couldn’t stop herself. Rio’s quiet gaze held her captive, the room suddenly feeling too small as the tension between them thickened.

"Touch yourself for me. Trace small circles. Feel yourself." If Rio was horny before, now, she was even worse. She could feel her own underwear almost dripping.

Agatha kept going. She didn't verbally respond, but she was doing so well.

Her index finger traced the hood of her clit, hitting all the right nerves. She bit the inside of her cheek to supress a moan. Rio seemed to notice it, even from behind.

"No" she said "I want you on edge. No walls. Let go, Agatha."

Agatha’s body tensed, a conflict raging inside her. She knew she should step back, she knew she could stop, but everything in her body screamed to keep going, to let Rio take the lead, even if it terrified her.

"Faster" Rio ordered. 

Her fingers started to trace faster padrons. Over her clit, over her folds. She could feel the liquid tangling more and more in her fingers.

"Oh, fuck. Rio" She moaned. 

Rio’s smirk was maddening, knowing, like she had already won whatever battle was still left in Agatha’s mind. The air between them grew heavier with each passing second.

Agatha’s breath quickened, her mind racing as she fought the growing desire to give in. She couldn’t. She couldn’t—

"Rio, I-"

"Stop. Now."

Agatha almost cursed at that command. But, she did stop. 

She could feel Rio pulling away from her back. She listened to her footsteps, who made it seem like she was backing away from the couch.

Rio walked back to her. Looked at her open pants - hoping she could see more than just her underwear. But that, that was enough. She could notice a very wet stop. 

She knelt in front of Agatha. Took her wrist in her hand. She didn't say a word. 

Agatha didn’t speak either, couldn’t find the words to voice the anything that was swirling inside her. She could feel her walls crumbling with every passing second in Rio’s presence.

Then, Rio looked her straight in the eyes while she took her hand to her mouth, savouring Agatha's taste in her fingertips. 

She moaned, making Agatha's fingers tremble with the sound. "Fuck, you taste so good." 

Agatha moaned. Agatha found herself on the edge of something unfamiliar, teetering between fear and desire. Rio’s teeth brushed her fingertips, her tongue still licking every bit, and Agatha’s breath caught in her throat.

She sucked her fingers clean. Rio’s breath was hot against Agatha’s skin as she took her fingers off her mouth, her voice barely above a whisper. The words came out slow, deliberate, testing Agatha’s resolve.

"Now, you try it."

Rio seemed to sense her hesitation, her smirk growing, as if she enjoyed the fight within Agatha, enjoying the dance of control and submission that was unfolding silently.

"Okay" Agatha finally spoke. 

She placed her hand back under her underwear. 

She didn't quite know what the hell she was doing. Being here. Rio kneeling in front of her. Touching herself.

Rio’s lips curled into a teasing smile. She was clearly pleased. 

And wet. Very. Very wet. 

Agatha's touch was slow, deliberate, as if she was taking her time to explore every inch of herself. 

Was she doing it for Rio? Was she touching herself, thinking about how much it would please Rio?

Rio could feel her own mouth salivating at the sight. She could now see Agatha's hand moving clearly. She could hear the sound her cunt was making.

God, she just wanted to fall - mouth open- in the middle of her legs.

"Is this what you want, Rio?" Agatha asked, her voice bold now "To see me like this, in front of you?"

"I want you to taste yourself now. You're doing so good."

Every inch of Agatha's skin alive at the sound of Rio's words. 

She took her hand off. Her fingers were covered in cum. She parted them slowly, showing a liquid string connecting them. 

Agatha then took her fingers to her mouth and let out a hmmmmm while she tasted them. 

If Rio could do anything more than just stare now, she would have Agatha pinned on the couch in that exact instant. 

"Fuck, Agatha. You're driving me insane." she whispered.

"I still want to watch. Dont keep me hanging." Agatha hissed. 

"Oh? Is that so?"

Agatha nodded. She looked while Rio stood up and placed herself back in the armchair in front of her. 

Chapter Text

Rio leaned back in the armchair, her expression shifting into something darker, more wicked, the flicker of a smirk tugging at her lips. The dim light cast shadows across her sharp features, making her look even more untouchable. And yet, here she was, grounding the moment with an intimacy that felt almost surreal.

“So” Rio murmured, her voice low and rich, carrying the weight of a dare. “What exactly would you like to watch?”

Agatha’s breath hitched. She hadn’t fully processed the boldness of her own words, but now that they hung in the air, there was no taking them back. The way Rio was looking at her—unflinching, smoldering—made her feel exposed, yet - alive.

“Everything” Agatha said, her voice quieter than she intended, but unwavering.

Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her hands clutching the edge of the sofa like a lifeline. “I want to see you. All of you.”

Rio’s lips curved into a slow smile, her eyes glinting with something wild and untamed. “You’re full of surprises, Congresswoman.”

Agatha didn’t respond. She couldn’t. Words felt unnecessary and too small for the space they were in. Her heart was pounding so hard she thought Rio might hear it.

Rio’s gaze lingered on her, searching her face, almost as if giving her one last chance to change her mind. But Agatha didn’t look away. Her pulse raced, her nerves were taut, but she held her ground. She wanted this. She wanted Rio.

With deliberate movements, Rio reached for the back of her bra, her fingers pausing for a moment as if savoring the tension between them. Agatha swallowed hard, her mouth suddenly dry as Rio began to undo it, exposing smooth, tan skin. Then, finally, exposing her breasts.

God, she's hot.

They're so - Ugh, god.

Why do I feel the sudden need to touch her?

“Is this what you wanted?” Rio asked, her voice carrying a teasing edge.

Agatha nodded, her throat too tight to form a reply. She shifted slightly on the sofa, crossing her legs in a futile attempt to ignore the growing heat coursing through her body.

Rio let her bra fall on the ground. Agatha followed her every move with her gaze. She ran a hand down her own neck, then over her collarbone, her touch slow and deliberate, her eyes locked on Agatha’s.

“Tell me something” Rio said, her tone light but laced with intent. “Is this your first time doing anything like this? Watching?”

Agatha’s cheeks burned, but she didn’t look away. “Yes.”

Rio’s smile widened, her movements unhurried as she leaned back further in the chair, her body language open and commanding all at once.

“Then I guess I’ll have to make it... memorable for you.”

Agatha’s breath caught as Rio’s hands trailed lower, her every motion deliberate, calculated to draw out the moment. Agatha couldn’t look away, her eyes drinking in the sight, her body responding in ways she hadn’t anticipated.

But as Rio’s fingers teased at the hem of her underwear, she paused, tilting her head to study Agatha with an intensity that made her pulse quicken even more.

“Do you want me to keep going?” Rio asked, her voice low, her tone leaving no room for games.

“Yes” Agatha breathed, the word escaping before she could think twice. “Please.”

Rio’s smirk deepened, satisfaction flickering in her eyes as she allowed her hands to explore further, her movements fluid and unhurried.

She took her fingers to play with the fabric of her underwear. Teasing.

She was clearly building up more and more tension. She could notice Agatha's gaze fixed on her hand. She reached down, hand still covered by her panties.

The warmth rested on her hand, sending shivers up her arm. Rio moaned at her own touch. 

Agatha could feel her own body reacting with every second, her breathing uneven, her hands gripping the cushion beneath her like an anchor.

And as Rio let her head fall back slightly, her body arching ever so slightly into her own touch, Agatha felt herself leaning forward without realizing it, drawn into the moment like a moth to a flame.

It was as if nothing else existed—just the two of them in this charged space - the boundaries between them dissolving into a blur of heat and want.

“Do you like what you see?” Rio asked, in between touches, her voice breathless but still carrying that edge of control.

Agatha nodded, her voice failing her entirely as she continued to watch, her pulse hammering in her ears. 

"I want t-to" Rio speeds up with her fingers "I w-want to hear you s-say it."

Agatha is now over the moon. She can't even bring herself to speak, she's so fixed on Rio's hand.

The movements she makes with her hand, the wet sound that emanates from her core, the panties moving to the rhythm of her fingers.

God, what's happening?

She finally brings herself to answer, without taking her eyes off the circles that Rio makes under her panties, which are even more intense now. 

"I-" Agatha starts. Rio speeds up "God, Rio-" Rio moans, pushes one finger inside "I like what I see. So-" She clears her throat "so much."

"I'm glad you're enjoying yourself" Rio stops.

"Wait- But-" Agatha starts, but then she notices Rio driving her hands to the lace of her underwear, slowly lifting her legs to pull it out.

Fuck. 

"Patience, Congresswoman." Rio adds, while she slowly opens her legs, revealing her bare cunt "It's a virtue."

Agatha's jaw drops. 

Rio’s movement was deliberate, calculated. She shifted, her left leg lifting gracefully to rest on the edge of the couch where Agatha sat, giving herself a sturdy base. The positioning brought her closer, her open stance nothing short of commanding.

Agatha’s breath hitched audibly, her body tensing as if the air had been sucked out of the room. Her eyes betrayed her composure, flicking downward, tracing the expanse of Rio’s thigh, the curve of her hip, the unapologetic display before her.

Her cunt. Fuck, she's so wet.

There's a puddle on the couch.

Her throat went dry. She’s doing this on purpose. Of course, Rio was. Every gesture, every glance, was a game, but this… 

Agatha’s fingers curled against the couch cushion as she tried to keep her hands—and her thoughts—in check. But the heat building in her chest and the tight coil in her stomach told a different story.

“You’re—” Her voice faltered, caught somewhere between shock and arousal. She swallowed hard, trying again “Fuck, Rio...”

Rio tilted her head, her smirk unshaken, as if Agatha’s reaction was exactly what she’d expected. She leaned in slightly, bringing her closer to Agatha’s line of sight, her voice low and teasing.

“I’m making it easier for you to look” she said, her tone like velvet, wrapping around Agatha and pulling her deeper.

Agatha’s nails dug into the couch now, her pulse thundering. She wanted to look away, to maintain some semblance of control, but it was impossible. Every inch of Rio seemed designed to draw her in, to challenge her resolve.

Her lips parted, but no words came out. There was nothing to say that wouldn’t betray how her heart was racing or how the tension was suffocating her.

Rio shifted slightly- pushing herself even further in the armchair- the movement was, once again, very deliberate, and Agatha couldn’t help but track the motion.

Her voice came out quieter than intended, barely a whisper. “You’re insufferable.”

"And you're, clearly, insatiable" Rio added. 

The proximity, the deliberate way Rio’s leg rested near her, the open invitation in her stance—it all pulled her in, like gravity.

Her fingers fidgeted, nails scraping lightly against the upholstery as her eyes betrayed her once again, darting over Rio’s figure in quick, stolen glances. It was impossible not to look, no matter how much she scolded herself for it.

Rio shifted again, the motion so subtle it was maddening, as if daring Agatha to react. The muscle in her thigh tensed slightly as she adjusted her balance, the movement precise and controlled. It was a show of power, of comfort in her own skin, and it left Agatha teetering on the edge of self-control. 

How is she so comfortable doing this?

“You’re doing this on purpose” Agatha finally said, her voice low and strained, her composure barely holding together.

Rio tilted her head, her lips curving into a slow, dangerous smile. “Maybe” she replied, her tone a challenge.

Agatha felt the words hit her like a jolt, the teasing laced with something deeper, something that made her pulse race and her skin flush.

Her eyes flicked up to Rio’s face, desperate to regain some footing. “You’re—” she started, her voice sharp, but it faltered as Rio leaned her foot just enough to close the distance to her own leg, her body language speaking volumes.

Rio brushed softly on her leg.

“I’m what?” Rio asked, her voice soft but loaded, her gaze locking onto Agatha’s.

Agatha's thighs pressed together instinctively, leaving Rio's touch, a futile attempt to contain the ache building low in her cunt. She was so on edge. Rio wasn't even doing anything. She was just there. Naked. Open to her - in every sense of the word.

Rio, ever observant, caught the slight movement and smiled. She adjusted her stance, her leg shifting slightly on the couch beside Agatha, making her position even more provocative, more deliberate. Brushing agaisnt her again.

"You don't have to hold back" Rio murmured, her voice dripping with honeyed confidence, as though she could feel every inch of Agatha's unraveling.

Agatha hated how exposed she felt, hated the way Rio seemed to peel her apart with nothing more than her presence. But more than that, she hated how much she wanted it.

Her eyes darted upward, seeking refuge in Rio’s face, but there was no escape there. The way Rio was looking at her—like she was a puzzle, a challenge, something to be solved—only sent her spiraling further.

“You’re enjoying this” Agatha finally choked out, her voice sharp, but it cracked at the edges.

Rio’s grin widened, her tongue running over her bottom lip in a motion so deliberate it felt sinful. “I enjoy watching you fight yourself,” she admitted, her tone silky and unrelenting. “But I’d enjoy it more if you just gave in.”

Agatha shook her head, her fists clenching, but the words didn’t carry conviction. She was already slipping, the tightrope she’d been walking stretching thinner and thinner under Rio’s gaze.

She didn’t respond. Couldn’t. Her voice was gone, stolen by the thick, charged air between them.

Rio’s hand moved, slow and deliberate, trailing up her own thigh as though she were performing for an invisible audience. Her eyes stayed locked on Agatha’s, daring her to look away.

But Agatha didn’t. 

"Agatha" she smirked "Be a dear and open the drawer of that little furniture near the sofa." 

Agatha’s hand trembled slightly as she reached for the drawer Rio had indicated. The wood felt smooth under her fingertips, grounding her momentarily as she hesitated. For a second, she questioned herself—questioned why she wasn’t storming out, why she wasn’t running from this intensity that had her completely undone.

But, she opened the drawer.

Inside was a sleek box, unassuming and perfectly placed, as though waiting for this exact moment. Her throat tightened as she wrapped her fingers around it, pulling it out slowly. She glanced at Rio, who was still watching her, one leg propped on the couch, her posture relaxed but her eyes sharp and predatory.

“Hand it to me” Rio instructed, her voice smooth and unwavering, like this was the most natural thing in the world.

Agatha swallowed hard and did as she was told, her fingers brushing against Rio’s as she passed her the box. The brief contact sent a shiver through her, and she hated how her hands felt so unsteady, so unpracticed.

Rio’s smirk softened into something more intimate as she held the box, her thumb tracing its edges. She didn’t open it right away, though; instead, she focused on Agatha, letting the weight of the moment settle between them.

“You’re nervous,” Rio observed, her tone almost gentle but laced with that same teasing edge that had been unraveling Agatha all night.

“No, I’m not” Agatha lied, her voice weaker than she intended, betraying her even further.

Rio chuckled softly, shaking her head. “You’re a terrible liar, Congresswoman.”

She opened the box, revealing something that seemed like a toy. It was a purple one. It seemed so soft. 

"You are" Rio played with her fingers around the toy "But I guess this might help you relax."

Rio then clicked a button, starting a vibration that echoed in Agatha's ears as if it were an earthquake. She played with it a little, demonstrating - without speaking- the different densities. Agatha then realized that it was... Oh, fuck.. not that she had ever seen anything like it, but she assumed that the idea was for it to suck her clit. 

Rio positioned herself in order to fit the toy over her clit, carrying it, then, over the lips of her cunt. Slowly.

Her body trembled at the contact, her head was instantly pulled back with pleasure. Agatha could notice cum dripping more and more with each touch, with each passage over her folds. 

Rio touched the button once more, accelerating the suction speed. Agatha brought her own hand instantly to between her legs, simply to feel her own warmth - it almost burned.

"You see-" Rio started, but her voice trembled "A-Agatha, this is how you make me feel" and then she added, still squirming "S-so f-fucking h-horny."

With that admission, Agatha slid her own hand into her underwear, feeling how horny she was.

As she watched Rio, squirming, moaning her name, dripping onto the fabric of the sofa, she sped up her own fingers. The scenario was- 

"Hmmmm" Rio moaned. 

Clearly she had touched an even more sensitive point. At that moment, Agatha realized that Rio was dripping even more, as if she was close to coming.

This released a wave on Agatha, bringing her closer and closer to the precipice. Her fingers circled her clit, which was so sensitive with all that vision.

What made her even more stupefied was when Rio took her left hand and played with her folds, teasing her way in. 

Without speaking, Rio unceremoniously pushed two fingers inside herself. Her right hand still holding the purple toy that sucked her clit, making movements up and down, as if to help with the suction. 

Her fingers.

In and out. In and out. 

Her leg brushing against Agatha as she pleased herself. 

This was- too much.

"Agatha" Rio moaned.

"I'm gonna-"

"Oh, fuck"

"Agatha, look at me"

"I'm gonna-" 

The movements of the fingers, in and out, became more crude, liquid flowed almost in waves coming from Rio's cunt.

Agatha followed the rhythm with her own fingers, also speeding up her own movements. 

"Hmmmmmm" Agatha moaned. 

"Oh, f-fuck" 

And Rio came. So much so, that it almost squirted to the ground. Agatha came seconds later. Both continued to touch themselves to ride out the giant wave of pleasure. 

**

Rio leaned back into the armchair, her body still glistening, her chest rising and falling as she caught her breath. A lazy, satisfied smile curved her lips as she reached for her shirt draped over the armrest, her movements unhurried. She glanced at Agatha, who was slumped back on the couch, her hair slightly disheveled and her skin flushed, trying desperately to steady herself.

For a moment, neither of them spoke, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the air like thick smoke. Agatha’s eyes flicked to Rio as she began buttoning her shirt, every movement deliberate, almost a performance.

“You’re awfully quiet” Rio teased, breaking the silence, her voice soft but tinged with amusement.

Agatha swallowed, her tongue darting out to wet her lips. “I’m... processing,” she admitted, her voice a touch hoarse.

Rio chuckled, the sound low and rich. “Take your time. But I’d say the look on your face tells me you enjoyed yourself.”

Agatha shot her a glare, though it lacked its usual sharpness. “Do you always have to say everything you’re thinking?”

“Only when it’s worth saying,” Rio countered, her grin widening. She leaned forward, elbows resting on her knees as she regarded Agatha with a mix of curiosity and something deeper. “And you? Was it worth it?”

Agatha hesitated, her breath hitching as the question settled. She couldn’t bring herself to lie, not after... that. “Yes” she said softly, almost to herself.

Rio’s expression softened, and for a moment, there was no teasing, no games. Just her. “Good” she said simply.

As Rio pulled on her blazer, her fingers deftly rolling up the sleeves, Agatha’s gaze lingered. The spell hadn’t broken, not entirely. Her mind was a mess, but her body—her heart—was still caught in the moment.

Rio’s eyes flicked back to her. “You’re staring.”

Agatha flushed, quickly averting her gaze. “I’m not.”

“Liar”

Agatha let out a breathy laugh, but it quickly faltered as Rio stepped closer, her movements fluid, predatory. She stopped just in front of the couch, her hand reaching out to brush a stray lock of hair from Agatha’s face. The touch was gentle, almost reverent, and it sent a jolt through Agatha’s chest.

“Don’t overthink this” Rio murmured, her voice low and intimate. “For once, just... let it be.”

For a heartbeat, Agatha thought she could. She thought she could reach out, let Rio pull her into another world, one where the rules didn’t exist and she could just... feel.

Her hand hovered, trembling, as her eyes locked onto Rio’s lips. The pull was magnetic, undeniable. Her chest tightened with anticipation, her breath hitching as she leaned in, so close she could feel Rio’s warmth.

But then it hit her. The walls slammed back into place, stronger than ever.

Agatha pulled back abruptly, her heart pounding like a war drum. “I can’t” she choked out, her voice raw with emotion.

Rio’s eyes darkened, a flicker of understanding—and frustration—passing through them.

“Agatha...”

“I can’t” she repeated, shaking her head as she stood. Her movements were frantic, the panic overtaking her. “This—this was a mistake.”

Rio stepped back, giving her space, but her gaze remained steady. “You don’t believe that” she said softly, the certainty in her voice cutting through Agatha’s chaos.

Agatha didn’t respond. She grabbed her blazer from the back of the couch, her hands fumbling as she pulled it on. Her mind screamed at her to leave, to run, before she unraveled completely.

“Agatha,” Rio said again, her tone firm but gentle, trying to anchor her. “You don’t have to—”

“Don’t” Agatha snapped, her voice sharp and filled with something dangerously close to despair. “Don’t make this harder than it already is.”

She stormed to the door, her movements hurried and unsteady. Her hand hesitated on the handle, just for a second, before she yanked it open and disappeared into the hallway, the sound of the door slamming behind her echoing through the apartment.

Rio stood there, motionless, her jaw tight as she stared at the door. Slowly, she sank back into the armchair, a wry smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the sting of Agatha’s retreat.

“Goddamn it” she muttered to herself, shaking her head. But there was no regret in her eyes—only patience, and something that looked a lot like determination.

**

45 minutes later.

Rio sat in the silence of the room, her body still humming from the moments they'd shared. The echo of the door slamming behind Agatha still reverberated through the apartment, a harsh reminder of how quickly everything had unraveled. She could feel the remnants of their encounter, the charged air still thick with tension, the weight of what had just happened hanging in the space between them.

For a moment, Rio let herself absorb the emptiness, the absence of Agatha's presence. It wasn’t unfamiliar, the quiet that followed a storm, but it felt different this time. There was a sting to it, a sharpness that she hadn’t expected.

She leaned back in the armchair, her fingers resting on the armrests, and stared at the door for a long moment. The adrenaline that had surged through her in those moments—when Agatha had given in, just for a second, when the walls had come down—was now fading, replaced by something more complex.

Rio wasn’t surprised by Agatha’s retreat. She’d seen it coming, the cracks in her carefully built armor. Agatha was just too damn good at pretending, at hiding. But what surprised Rio was the intensity of the reaction—the panic, the rawness that had flared in her when she backed away. She’d known Agatha was conflicted, but she hadn’t realized just how much she was carrying inside her.

She rubbed a hand over her face, a tired, almost amused laugh escaping her lips. "What the hell did I expect?" she muttered under her breath.

But there was no anger, no bitterness in her voice. Just... understanding.

Rio had always been good at seeing people, reading them, getting underneath the surface. And with Agatha, it wasn’t about breaking her—no, Rio wasn’t trying to break her. It was more like... pulling back the layers, letting her feel something real for once.

She leaned forward, elbows on her knees, staring at the space where Agatha had been only moments ago. There was something about Agatha’s vulnerability that had captivated her—something about the way she fought so damn hard to maintain control, to keep everything locked away.

It wasn’t just physical, the pull between them. It was something deeper. Something more dangerous. Rio knew that Agatha wasn’t ready to face that, not yet. She wasn’t ready to admit that she wanted to feel what they could have, what they were on the edge of.

"You're so fucking stubborn" Rio muttered to herself, a grin tugging at her lips despite the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

But Rio wasn’t about to let it end like this. She never did.

She stood up, slowly, the weight of the moment still sitting heavy in her chest. There was something magnetic about Agatha, something that kept pulling her back, no matter how many times she tried to step away. Maybe it was the challenge. Or maybe it was the fact that Agatha was the only person who made Rio feel like she wasn’t the only one in control for once.

Rio glanced toward the door, her gaze lingering for just a second longer before she turned away.

Agatha was running. And Rio wasn’t about to chase her—at least, not yet.

But, she would.

She always did.

**

Agatha rushed out of Rio's.

She fumbled for her phone, her hands shaking as she dialed Ralph’s number, trying to force her breath to steady, trying to tell herself that none of this mattered. It was just a moment. Just something that had gotten out of hand. She was fine. She would be fine.

The phone rang twice before he picked up.

“Ma’am?” Ralph’s voice was as steady and polite as ever, though Agatha could hear the faint concern in his tone. He knew something wasn’t right. She didn’t care.

“Ralph, I need you to pick me up. Now. I’ll be outside in five minutes,” she said, her voice clipped.

“I’ll be right there” he responded quickly, and Agatha ended the call before she could even process the words.

She stood on the sidewalk for a moment, trying to collect herself. She could feel the tension in her body, the tightness in her chest, the deep, burning shame that was slowly creeping in. What the hell had just happened? She needed to think, to make sense of it, but it wasn’t coming together.

As she waited for Ralph, her mind drifted back to Rio. The way she had looked at her, the way she had touched her, the things she had said. Agatha clenched her fists, trying to keep her emotions under control, trying to force herself into something logical, something she could understand.

It was just a fucking mistake, she told herself. It wasn’t real.

It was the alcohol. It had to be the alcohol. She had been too drunk, too loose.

That’s all it was. She hated Rio. She hated how smug she was, how fucking confident she was, how she made Agatha feel like she was losing control of her own mind.

That was it. She was just angry.

Maybe it was all just because of how much she hated her.

That had to be it, right? She just felt fucking hot because she was angry. She had always felt a kind of twisted attraction to the things she hated. It was the push and pull of it. She had always known that.

As the car pulled up, she tried to calm herself, convinced that what she had felt wasn’t real. It couldn’t be. She wasn’t like that. She wasn’t like Rio. She wasn’t some fucking mess of emotions and confusing feelings.

She had a plan. She had a future.

She didn’t have time to get tangled up in whatever the hell this was.

She climbed into the backseat of the car, barely acknowledging Ralph as he pulled away from the curb. Her thoughts were still racing, the chaos inside her impossible to quiet. She tried to focus on anything other than what had just happened—on anything other than Rio and the way she had made her feel. But it was impossible. Every time she closed her eyes, all she could see was Rio’s face, her body, the way she had moved, touched, whispered.

Her stomach churned.

It wasn’t her fault. It wasn’t her fault. She wasn’t some... person who could just give in to something like that. She couldn’t be. She didn’t even know what it was. She wasn’t like those women. She had to be strong. She couldn’t fall apart.

It was the alcohol.

But as she thought about Rio again, something inside her twitched. The truth was, she hadn’t just felt attraction. She hadn’t just felt anger. There had been something else too—something deeper, something raw that she couldn’t ignore.

And that terrified her.

She tried to shake it off, convince herself that it was just a product of the moment.

But deep down...

No! Fuck.

It was a mistake.

That would never happen again.

It was like watching a show. Right? 

Right?!

She wasn't engaging.

She wasn't touching her.

"Never" she whispered "Never again."

The word's echoed in her mind as she fell asleep that night. 

Never again.

Chapter Text

Saturday morning.

The café was crowded, the low hum of conversation blending with the hiss of the espresso machine. Rio barely noticed. Her eyes were glued to the tablet in front of her, a headline from Politico catching her attention. 

“Race Heats Up in Key Senate Battle: Caldwell’s Populism vs. Harkness’ Pragmatism.”

She clicked on it, the coffee in her hand growing cold as she skimmed the article. There she was—Agatha Harkness, always polished and poised, her photo capturing the steely determination Rio knew all too well.

“Congresswoman Agatha Harkness, seeking to trade her House seat for the Senate, has positioned herself as a pragmatic choice in a sharply divided political climate...”

Rio leaned back in her chair. Pragmatic? That’s one word for her.

She looked around, still thinking about all the adjectives she would use to describe Agatha. Pragmatic is one word, but, so many others came to mind. 

The coffee in her hand had gone cold, but she hadn’t noticed. Then, another headline glowing on the screen pulled her in.

“From Legacy to Leadership: Agatha Harkness and the Fight for the Senate.”

She tapped the article, leaning back again in her chair as the screen filled with the glossy, carefully curated image of Agatha. Her dark hair was swept back into a perfect bun, her sharp -burning blue- eyes exuding confidence. The photo practically screamed power. 

Rio’s lips twitched. 
Always the picture of control, aren’t you?

She scrolled down, leaving Agatha’s picture behind. 
The article began with some of Agatha’s career highlights. 

A political science degree from Georgetown. 
Early internships at think tanks and congressional offices.
A meteoric rise from legislative aide to communications director. 
And, finally, her first term in Congress.

The words dripped with admiration. “A modern stateswoman” the author gushed, “dedicated to bridging divides and championing bipartisan reform.”
Rio rolled her eyes, her finger swiping down. Then came the inevitable mention of Evanora Harkness.

"The Shadow of Evanora"

"A fixture in high-stakes legal battles, Evanora Harkness’ clientele has long included prominent politicians and influential figures."

Rio paused, her stomach tightening. She didn’t need the article to tell her who Evanora was. Everyone in their circles knew.

Evanora Harkness wasn’t just a lawyer - she was a kingmaker.

The kind of person who could pick up the phone and change someone’s career—or ruin it—before the second ring.
And those clients? The article didn’t name names, but Rio didn’t need them to. Politicians. CEOs. Shady operators with power that stretched further than most people dared imagine.

Rio frowned, her thumb hovering over the screen.

No wonder Agatha’s path had been so smooth.

A mother like that? It must have been effortless—doors opened before Agatha even reached for the handle.

But then she stopped herself.
Effortless?

Her mind flashed to the night before. The fire in Agatha’s eyes, the way her voice broke when she let her walls slip.
It wasn’t effortless. Not entirely.

Maybe it wasn’t as easy as it looked, Rio thought, setting the tablet down and picking up her coffee. The ceramic was cold against her fingertips, but she didn’t care.
Still, it was impossible to ignore the cracks beneath the polished surface. Evanora’s influence was everywhere in Agatha’s story, like a shadow she couldn’t escape. And Rio couldn’t help but wonder..

How much of this was Agatha’s? And how much of it was Evanora’s?

Her attention returned to the article, which shifted its focus to Agatha’s Senate race.

“As Harkness positions herself as the voice of reason in a divided political landscape, her opponent, Congressman Cadwell, has steadily gained traction by appealing to voters who feel left behind by establishment politicians.”

Rio’s jaw tightened. Cadwell. She’d done her reading on him, too. A career politician who played the everyman card like a violin, all while pocketing corporate donations and trading favors with lobbyists.

The article framed the race as a clash of ideologies: Agatha’s polished, elite pragmatism versus Cadwell’s populist bravado.

Rio almost laughed. A clash of ideologies? More like a clash of performances.

And yet, she couldn’t help but feel a pang of something close to protectiveness. Agatha might have had the resources and connections, but Cadwell... Well, Cadwell was a shark. The kind of opponent who wouldn’t hesitate to drag her through the mud, truth be damned.

The article ended with a quote from Agatha:

“I’ve dedicated my career to fighting for those who feel unheard. My priority will always be the people.”

Rio frowned, setting the tablet down on the table. Her gaze drifted out the window, watching as a couple strolled by, their laughter faint but warm against the hum of the city.

Always the people, she thought, a wry smile tugging at her lips. But she couldn’t help but wonder.

When was the last time you let yourself be heard, Agatha?

Her mind wandered back to the previous night. Agatha’s trembling voice. The way she had stormed out, her walls snapping back into place like a fortress rebuilt overnight.

Rio sighed, rubbing her temples. She didn’t know why she cared so much. But there was something about Agatha—something buried beneath the perfection and the power suits—that Rio couldn’t let go of.

She picked up her coffee, finally taking a sip, and grimaced at the bitter cold. Setting it down again. 

“Agatha Harkness. You’re a goddamn puzzle” she muttered under her breath.

"Argh, and this coffee is awfull."

**

Agatha made her way up the stairs to her mother's penthouse, her mind was already racing with thoughts of what awaited her inside.

The phone call had been brief, but her mother’s tone—authoritative, commanding—left no room for refusal.

“You should come by for dinner” Evanora had said. “It’s a networking opportunity. Some very important people will be here, and I think you need to be seen.”

Agatha had hesitated, but it wasn’t like she could say no. Not when her mother dropped names like they were casual acquaintances—politicians, lawyers, businessmen. It was the life Agatha had grown up in, one of power and influence, and she could never escape it.

The moment she stepped inside, she was greeted with the scent of something rich and savory—roast lamb, perhaps—and the sound of murmurs and clinking glasses. Evanora’s house was immaculate, a symbol of the life she had carefully built. The lights were low, but the energy in the room was palpable. Agatha scanned the faces, trying to place them. They weren’t familiar, but they had the look of people who were used to controlling the room.

Her mother, poised as ever in a tailored dress, turned as Agatha stepped into the room.

“Ah, there you are darling. I’m glad you could make it” Evanora said with that icy, practiced smile. “Come, let me introduce you.”

Agatha gave her mother a kick kiss - one of those who don't even touch the cheek- but her eyes were already searching the crowd. She didn’t need to be told who was important; she could feel it in the air.

And then she saw him.

Henry.

At first, she thought her mind was playing tricks on her—surely, her ex wouldn’t be here, not after everything. But there he was, standing by the bar, looking more handsome than ever. His jaw tightened as soon as their eyes met, but he didn’t move. It was like the air between them had thickened, a tension neither of them knew how to break.

Evanora noticed the shift in her daughter’s gaze and placed a hand on her back. “Ah, yes,” she said, her voice too casual. “I almost forgot to mention that Henry’s here as well. He’s been quite a supporter of your campaign.”

Agatha didn’t answer immediately, trying to steady her breath. There was a knot in her stomach, a mixture of anger and something she didn’t want to acknowledge. Henry’s presence brought back memories she wasn’t ready to confront. Not yet.

“I’m sure he’s thrilled to see you again” Evanora continued, clearly uncaring of the discomfort she had just caused.

Agatha forced herself to smile, the one she had perfected over the years. “Of course,” she said, her voice colder than she meant it to be.

She didn’t wait for another word, excusing herself to take a glass of wine from a passing waiter. The bitter taste of alcohol wasn’t enough to numb the growing unease in her chest.

Henry was here. And her mother had planned this, all of it. It wasn’t a simple dinner, it was an ambush.

**

For almost half an hour, Agatha paced around the room making small talk with everyone - except, obviously, Henry. 

She scanned the room, searching for an escape route, but every direction led her right back into the lion's den. She tried to avoid making eye contact with Henry, keeping her back to him, pretending to be absorbed in conversation with a group of unfamiliar faces.

But then, as though the universe had conspired against her, Evanora approached her, a calm, measured smile on her lips. Henry’s father stood just behind her, his presence commanding and almost as cold as Evanora’s.

“Agatha” Evanora said with that polite, disarming tone she reserved for official gatherings. “I’d like you to meet Mr. Linz.” She gestured toward the man beside her, his eyes a sharp contrast to his son’s warm gaze. “Henry’s father. A man who’s done much for our city.”

Agatha’s mind raced. She knew exactly who he was—a seasoned businessman with connections in both politics and law. He didn’t need any more introduction than that. She smiled tightly, extending a hand.

“It’s a pleasure. Although, we already met” Agatha said, the words feeling forced.

Mr. Linz nodded, his eyes scanning her face with the kind of interest that made her uncomfortable. “I’ve heard a lot about you, Ms. Harkness. Not only from back in the days, that doesn't really count. You were very young when you dated my son” he said in a low, gravelly voice. “I'd like to get to know this new version of you. Your career is impressive. Your mother speaks very highly of you.”

Before Agatha could respond, Evanora, as if sensing her daughter’s discomfort, turned her attention elsewhere. “Ah, there’s Henry,” she said, her tone casual but with a hidden sharpness. “I’ll just get him for you.”

Agatha’s heart skipped a beat as Evanora walked toward Henry, who was still standing near the bar, his posture stiff, his eyes narrowing as they met hers. She felt the pull between them again, that magnetic tension she had never been able to shake, even after everything.

Evanora, always in control, maneuvered the conversation with practiced ease, ushering Henry over to where Agatha was standing.

“Henry” she said smoothly, her voice almost too sweet. “Why don’t you join us? It’s been a long time since you two had a proper conversation.”

Agatha tensed, her fingers tightening around the wine glass. She could feel Henry’s gaze on her before he even spoke, the weight of his presence a suffocating reminder of everything they used to have—and everything they had lost.

“Agatha” Henry greeted her, his voice low, perhaps even hesitant. There was something in the way he said her name that made her want to scream.

“Henry” she replied, her smile thin, barely there.

The tension between them was palpable, so thick that she could almost taste it. It was as if the air itself was aware of their history—of the things left unsaid between them.

The conversation that followed was polite, strained, and filled with the kind of small talk that felt like daggers wrapped in silk. They spoke of politics, of the campaign, of the city’s future—nothing that mattered, nothing that got to the heart of the real issue.

Finally, Agatha had enough. She could feel herself suffocating under the weight of it all—the pressure, the old wounds reopening. She excused herself with a strained smile, muttering something about needing air, and quickly turned on her heel.

But just as she was about to slip out of the room, Evanora followed her, her footsteps quiet but deliberate.

“Agatha” her mother’s voice was low, almost too soft, but it held an undeniable weight. “We need to talk.”

Agatha paused but didn’t turn around. She knew exactly what was coming.

“I don’t know if you noticed, but Henry has been incredibly supportive of your campaign,” Evanora continued, her voice dripping with calculation. “And you know what that could mean. With your name, with his… a traditional, solid family image. It could only benefit you. Don’t you think?”

Agatha swallowed hard, the words sticking in her throat. “I don’t think that’s what I need,” she replied, her voice tight. “I’m doing fine on my own.”

Evanora’s silence was heavy, but she didn’t relent. She stepped closer, her voice lowering to a near whisper. “Think about it, Agatha. A strong, family-oriented woman. You and Henry—everyone knows how good you were together. You’d be the perfect pair. A future senator, with the right kind of image. The right kind of support.”

Agatha’s breath caught in her throat. It was as if her mother had stripped her of any pretenses, cutting right through the heart of what had been a carefully constructed life.

“You know what they say” Evanora added, her eyes searching Agatha’s face. “It’s not just about what you know—it’s about who you know. And sometimes, you have to make the right alliances. For the future.”

Agatha felt her heart race, the weight of her mother’s words sinking in. She could feel the pressure building inside her chest, the suffocating reminder that she had always been expected to play a part—a role that had nothing to do with her personal desires, her happiness. It was all about the image, the power, the connections.

“I- I’ll think about it,” Agatha said, her voice barely a whisper.

But deep down, she knew. She knew that her mother’s vision for her future—one with Henry, one with the perfect political family—wasn’t her vision at all.

As she turned away, leaving her mother standing in the hallway, Agatha couldn’t shake the feeling that she was being suffocated by her past. A past that she couldn’t escape, no matter how hard she tried.

As Agatha made her way down the hallway, her pulse racing with the weight of the conversation she’d just had with her mother, she barely noticed Henry until he stepped into her path, blocking her way. He had been standing in the doorway of the dining room, his eyes following her as she moved through the house.

His presence was like a shadow over her, and for a moment, she felt the same knot in her stomach she had back when they were together—the knot that always signaled something was wrong, something she couldn’t ignore.

“You’re not leaving already, are you?” Henry’s voice was smooth, but there was an edge to it. It was the voice of someone who was still trying to hold on to whatever control he thought he had over her.

Agatha stopped, but she didn’t look at him. She crossed her arms tightly over her chest, as if warding off some invisible force.

“I think I’ve had enough of this evening,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, though the anger simmered just below the surface.

Henry stepped closer, his presence too near, too familiar. “Agatha, I know what they’re planning,” he said, his eyes searching hers for some sign of agreement. “And I think it’s a good idea. I mean, we were good together, weren’t we?”

Her stomach churned at his words. “Good?” she repeated, the bitterness seeping into her voice. “Is that how you’d describe it? That whole... thing we had?”

Henry didn’t flinch. He took another step forward, as if trying to close the distance between them, but Agatha took a step back, her body instinctively rejecting him.

“It wasn’t just a thing, Agatha” he said, his voice softer now, trying to find that old warmth that had once been there. “It was real. We had something. Hell, I was crazy about you back then. You knew that.”

Agatha’s anger flared, and she couldn’t hold it back anymore. Her voice came out in a sharp, cutting tone. “You think you know what we had? What I felt?” she spat, her eyes narrowing.

“You and I were never real. We were just... crafted. You don’t get it, do you? I felt nothing but disgust whenever I looked at you, especially after everything we did. You’re nothing but a fucking puppet, Henry. You and your fucking family—everything was a damn performance.”

Henry’s expression faltered, his confidence cracking for the first time that night. But instead of stepping back, he pressed on, his tone turning defensive, as if trying to deflect the sting of her words.

“You didn’t seem to mind when we were in bed” he shot back, his voice tinged with accusation.

Agatha’s blood ran cold. His words hit her like a punch, and for a split second, she was paralyzed, the memories flooding her—memories of a time when she had convinced herself that she needed to go through with it, when her mind had twisted everything into something she could endure.

But now, it all felt like an illusion. Everything she had done with him, all the moments they shared behind closed doors, were tainted by a deep sense of self-loathing. She had let herself believe that was what love was supposed to feel like. But it wasn’t love—at least, not for her. It was a need, a sick justification for everything else in her life that was out of her control.

She pulled in a sharp breath, her voice trembling with disgust. “You have no idea what you’re talking about” she said, her hands clenched into fists at her sides.

“You think it was real? You think I actually wanted you? You don’t know a damn thing, Henry. I did it because I was fucking broken, because I thought I had to.”

Henry’s face hardened, but his eyes showed something—regret? Guilt? She couldn’t tell. “You think I don’t know how fucked up it was?” he asked, his voice quieter now, as if the confession was slipping out before he could stop it. “But I could have been a good father, Agatha. We could have had something... real together. You know that.”

Her heart pounded in her chest, and a cold, bitter laugh escaped her lips. She didn’t even know why she laughed. Maybe it was to mask the sharp pain that hit her all over again. She wanted to scream at him, tell him that everything he was saying was a lie—nothing about them had ever been real.

She didn’t know if it was the anger or the disgust that was overwhelming her, but the moment he spoke those words, the ones about being a “good father,” everything inside of her snapped.

Her jaw clenched. She turned on her heel, the need to escape becoming too great to ignore. “Don’t you ever speak about that again, Henry. Don’t you dare.” Her voice was ice, her body already halfway down the hallway.

But before she could make her final exit, she heard him.

“I could have been a good father!” he shouted, his voice rising in a desperate, almost frantic tone.

Agatha froze. Her heart stopped for a split second, the words echoing in her mind, reverberating off the walls of the house.

A good father? He is talking about a version of their life that never existed. Never could have. 

**

Flashback

Agatha stood there, staring at the small plastic stick in her hand, the little window showing a single line. It had been a long few minutes, but it felt like hours. Her hands trembled as she placed the test on the counter and leaned against the cool tile wall.

Her heart thudded in her chest, the pounding so loud she could barely hear the hum of the fluorescent lights. She felt everything in that moment—the pressure, the suffocation, the weight of what she had to decide.

Two lines.

Pregnant.

The word hit her like a slap to the face. Her mind scrambled, racing through everything she had been avoiding. Henry. Her mother. The future. The political world. It wasn’t supposed to be this way. She wasn’t ready for this. But there it was, undeniable and unrelenting.

Agatha sank to the floor, her back to the cool tiles, and buried her face in her hands. She wanted to scream, to cry, but she didn’t. She couldn’t. The pressure of everything—the expectation, the perfect image, the future that had already been written for her—suffocated her.

**

Agatha closed her eyes, her hands shaking at her sides, and, without turning back to him, she stormed out of the hallway and toward the front door.

She had always imagined what her child would look like. She had even thought about names, stupid little things that a girl in college like her shouldn’t even be thinking about. If it was a boy, she wanted to name him Nicky—a simple name, something warm, something real. But that wasn’t possible.

She couldn’t have a child. Not back then. Not with Henry. Not with the life ahead of her. She had dreams, goals, plans that didn’t involve a baby, a marriage, a life that felt like it was already mapped out. And Henry...Well, Henry was part of the problem. She had always known it. She had never been in love with him, but she couldn’t let go of the idea that they would be together—because that was the plan.

Marrying Henry, having his child—it was all expected of her. But she knew she couldn’t do it. She couldn’t bring a child into a life that wasn’t hers, a life she didn’t want.

The decision was made. She couldn’t bear the thought of it. She couldn’t even picture herself in a white dress, her life reduced to nothing more than a calculated, cold performance.

And so, she had ended it. She had terminated the pregnancy, something she would never speak of to anyone but Henry. He had always thought she would be the perfect wife, the perfect partner for his ambitions. But she wasn’t. She never was.

She had done it for the future, for her career, for her own ambition. But in that moment, when she sat on the cold bathroom floor, she realized something deep within her—she had killed a part of herself. She had killed the person who might have held Nicky in her arms, the child she had wanted, even if only for a brief moment.

Fuck. 

Agatha stormed out of her mother's house, her heart still pounding in her chest, the words she’d exchanged with Henry echoing in her mind. Her breaths came quick, uneven, as the weight of what had just happened pressed down on her. The cold night air hit her like a slap in the face, but she didn’t care. She needed space, needed to escape the suffocating atmosphere of that house—the lies, the expectations, and especially the remnants of a life she’d been forced to live.

Her heels clicked sharply against the ground as she walked briskly, her mind racing. How had she ended up here?

She couldn’t shake the feeling of being trapped, like a puppet pulled by strings she couldn’t see but could always feel. Every move she made, every decision, had been dictated by someone else—by Henry, by her mother, by the damn political world she was trying so hard to control.

She needed time to think. She needed to feel something—anything—that wasn’t the suffocating pressure of her family’s expectations.

Agatha’s hand shook as she pulled her phone from her purse, staring at the screen for a moment before dialing the only person who might be able to give her some kind of relief. Rio.

The phone rang four times before Rio answered, her voice warm but laced with the faintest hint of concern. “Agatha? What’s going on?”

“I—I need to get out of here,” Agatha’s voice trembled, betraying her calm exterior. “I need some air. Can you meet me?”

There was a pause, then Rio’s voice softened, knowing exactly what Agatha needed. “Of course. Where are you?”

Agatha gave her the address, and before she could hang up, Rio added, “I’ll be there in twenty.”

As she stood outside, her breath misting in the cold air, Agatha felt a strange sense of calm wash over her. Rio was her escape. Rio didn’t ask questions. She didn’t need to know the details of Agatha’s life to understand what she was feeling. And right now, that was exactly what Agatha needed.

Minutes later, Rio pulled up in her sleek black car. Agatha didn’t hesitate. She opened the door and climbed in without a word, sinking into the plush leather seats.

As the car pulled away, Rio glanced over at her. “You look like you’ve been through hell. What happened?”

Agatha closed her eyes, letting out a shaky breath. The familiar warmth of Rio’s presence was a comfort, but it wasn’t enough to make the chaos in her mind quiet down.

"I dont wanna talk about it. Just- Just drive. Please." Her voice trembling.

Rio’s grip tightened on the wheel, her jaw clenching. She could sense something was very wrong.

They drove in silence for a moment. But then Agatha’s chest tightened, and she turned her head to face Rio, her eyes raw.

“I’m so fucking lost, Rio." She confessed.

“You don’t have to pretend with me” Rio said, her voice unwavering. “Not ever.”

Agatha let the words sink in, feeling something shift inside her—a tiny crack in the wall she’d built around herself. Maybe Rio was right. Maybe she didn’t have to keep pretending. Maybe she could just be.

She leaned back in the seat, letting out a slow breath as the car continued down the road. Her phone buzzed in her hand, and for a moment, she thought about ignoring it. But the name on the screen made her stomach twist. It was her mother.

Agatha stared at the phone for a long moment before swiping it to answer, her voice cold. “What?”

“Agatha” Evanora’s voice was sharp, but there was a hint of something more—a threat, maybe. “I expect you to think about what I said. I’m only trying to help you. This is what’s best for your future. You can’t keep running from your responsibilities.”

Agatha’s eyes closed, a bitter laugh escaping her lips. “I’m not running from anything. I’m just not playing your game anymore, Mother. I’m done.”

Before Evanora could respond, Agatha ended the call, tossing the phone onto the seat beside her. She felt a rush of relief, but it didn’t last long. The weight of her mother’s words lingered, haunting her like an unshakable shadow.

Rio had overheard everything in the call, but she couldn't quite tell what it was about.

“You okay?” Rio asked, glancing over at her.

Agatha nodded, but the doubt in her chest was still there, gnawing at her. “I’m not sure anymore. I’m not sure about anything.”

Rio didn’t say anything more, just reached over and placed a hand on Agatha’s leg in silent support.

The car hummed along the road, the rhythmic sound of tires on asphalt the only noise between them, yet the air felt thick with unspoken words. Agatha tried to breathe deeply, but the weight in her chest only seemed to grow heavier. She wasn’t sure what was worse—her mother’s suffocating expectations or the memories that kept clawing their way back to the surface. Every moment felt like it was pulling her deeper into a past she couldn’t outrun.

Rio’s hand on her leg was warm, a grounding presence in the midst of the chaos that was swirling inside her. It was the kind of touch that could make everything else feel distant, but right now, Agatha couldn’t escape the feeling that she was caught in a tug-of-war between two worlds: the one she had built for herself, and the one her mother had tried to shove her into.

“I don’t want to be this person” Agatha whispered, her voice barely audible over the hum of the engine.

Rio’s hand squeezed her leg gently, a silent gesture that made Agatha’s chest tighten. “You don’t have to be.”

“I don’t know who I am anymore.” Agatha’s voice cracked, the confession raw and unfiltered. She turned her head to look at Rio, her eyes searching for something—anything—that would make the weight of everything she was carrying feel lighter.

“You’re Agatha” Rio said softly, her tone unwavering. “That’s who you are.”

Agatha let out a shaky breath, the words like a balm to a wound she hadn’t even realized was open. Agatha. She didn’t know if she even recognized that name anymore, but it was the only part of herself that felt true right now. Everything else had been crafted by others—her mother, Henry, the public. But who was she beneath all of that?

The sound of her phone vibrating broke through her thoughts again, and Agatha’s stomach churned as she looked down at the screen. Another call from her mother. The dread was instantaneous, but she didn’t answer this time. She let the phone vibrate itself to silence before tossing it back on the seat beside her.

She couldn’t keep doing this.

“I need to stop” Agatha muttered to herself, but it was more of a statement to the universe than anything else. She wasn’t just talking about the car ride or the phone call. She was talking about her whole life.

“Stop what?” Rio’s voice was gentle, but there was an edge of curiosity in it.

“Everything,” Agatha said, turning her face to the window. “I don’t know what to do anymore. I don’t know how to keep playing this game.”

Rio didn’t reply immediately. The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable, though—it was one of understanding. But Rio’s grip on the wheel tightened ever so slightly, and Agatha could feel her focus shift. Rio wasn’t just listening to her words; she was listening to the parts Agatha wasn’t saying. The parts she hadn’t even begun to process herself.

“You don’t have to play the game, Agatha.” Rio’s voice was quiet, but the weight behind it carried the force of a hundred unspoken truths. “You could stop. Right now. Walk away.”

Agatha’s eyes fluttered shut for a moment. Could she really? The idea of walking away felt like freedom—but freedom from what, exactly? Her mother’s expectations? Her legacy? Henry’s past hold on her? The role she had been playing in the political world? The life she had been forced to live?

Her heart raced at the thought, but there was also a strange sense of yearning. What if I just walked away? she thought, a fleeting sense of possibility blooming in her chest. But then reality snapped back in—her campaign, her future, the next steps in her political career, the promises she’d made to people who were counting on her. All of that was real. She couldn’t just throw it all away.

Yet, Rio’s words lingered, rattling around in her head.

You could stop.

Agatha stared out the window, watching the city lights flicker by, the neon reflections in the glass blurring into a wash of color. She wanted to believe Rio, to believe that there was a life beyond the one she was trapped in. But she couldn’t quite make the leap.

“I can’t.” Her voice was barely above a whisper.

“Why not?” Rio asked softly.

“Because there are too many people depending on me,” Agatha said, her voice thick with the weight of her responsibilities. “Because if I stop, everything falls apart. My career, my future. I’ve worked too damn hard for this. I don’t even know who I’d be if I wasn’t… this person.” She gestured vaguely to herself, to the life that was so intricately woven into the fabric of everything around her.

There was a long silence before Rio responded, her voice steady but undeniably firm. “But if you keep going like this, Agatha, who are you going to be then?”

Agatha’s throat tightened. She wanted to argue, to insist that Rio didn’t understand the pressure she was under. But she couldn’t bring herself to. Rio was right, part of her knew. But the other part—the part that was terrified of losing everything—held her back.

She turned her head away from Rio, focusing on the road outside, her hands clenched in her lap. Who are you going to be? It was a simple question, but it felt like a trap, one she wasn’t ready to fall into.

“I don’t know” she said, her voice trembling. She hated how weak she sounded, how conflicted she felt. “I just… I can’t. I can’t figure this out right now. It’s too much.”

She took Rio's hand from her leg, hinting her to pull away.

Her chest tightened, and she felt the coldness creeping back into her veins. She couldn’t let herself be that person. She couldn’t allow herself to give in to something that felt so dangerous, so uncertain. She had a plan, a future, and Rio—Rio was just… a complication.

She forced her gaze to the window, biting back the surge of emotions threatening to spill out.

“I’m not ready for this” she whispered, almost to herself.

Rio’s silence was deafening for a moment, and Agatha felt her stomach churn. She didn’t want Rio’s pity, didn’t want her sympathy. But she felt it there, in the stillness of the car.

She didn’t want to face it. She didn’t want to face her.

“You can’t keep running, Agatha,” Rio said, her voice low, yet carrying a hint of something softer now. "But it’s okay if you need time."

Agatha closed her eyes, hating herself for even considering that she could be that person. And just as quickly as it had come, the warmth of connection faded, and the walls returned, thicker than ever.

“Maybe in another world, Rio.” Agatha said quietly, her voice distant. 

Her words hung in the air as she sank deeper into herself, unwilling to let go of the carefully crafted shell that protected her from everything she feared.

Chapter Text

Rio’s lips curled into a sharp smile, her eyes briefly flicking toward Agatha before returning to the road.

“Another world?” she repeated, her tone edged with incredulity. “You know, Agatha, that’s a hell of a cop-out for someone who seems to act like she’s the master of this one” she joked.

Agatha stiffened in her seat, the remark landing squarely where Rio intended. She turned her gaze from the window to Rio, her defenses rising instinctively. But Rio wasn’t finished.

“Do you think it would be that fucked up?” Rio’s voice softened, but there was an unmistakable intensity in her question “Coming out? As a future gay senator? Or is that just another convenient excuse to keep yourself locked in the gilded cage you’ve built?”

Agatha’s jaw clenched, her pulse quickening. The air between them was electric, charged with unspoken truths and lingering tension. She opened her mouth, but no immediate response came. Finally, after a moment that felt stretched too thin, she said, “Come out as what? That's- that's not it! Even if it was... That’s not the point, Rio.”

“Then what is it?” Rio’s voice was sharp, cutting through the silence like a blade. “What’s the real problem here, Agatha? Because you’re running out of places to hide.”

Agatha inhaled deeply, her eyes fixed on the blur of lights outside. Her voice was low when she finally spoke, as though she were confessing something forbidden. “Have you ever seen a... different president?”

Rio blinked, caught off guard. The car swerved slightly before she steadied the wheel, her mind struggling to catch up to Agatha’s words. “A gay president?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief.

Agatha turned to her, her expression unreadable. “Call it whatever you want, but, yes” she said. “Because neither has anyone else.”

The weight of Agatha’s statement hit Rio like a punch to the gut. She let out a low whistle, leaning back slightly as she tried to process what she’d just heard. “Wait” she said slowly, her eyes narrowing. “Are you telling me… you’ve been planning to run for president?”

Agatha’s silence was answer enough.

“Holy shit” Rio breathed, gripping the wheel tighter. She glanced at Agatha, her expression a mix of astonishment and something darker—something closer to frustration. “That’s what this is all about, isn’t it?! All the masks, all the perfectly calculated moves. You’re not just playing the game—you’re trying to rewrite it.”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line, but her silence betrayed the truth. She wasn’t just a congresswoman with Senate ambitions. She was laying the groundwork for something much bigger, something unprecedented.

“You’re thinking twenty steps ahead,” Rio said, her voice quieter now but no less intense. “And in your mind, being the real you doesn’t fit into that picture, does it? Because you’re too afraid it’ll make people question things. Doubt you. Or worse, define you.”

Agatha’s gaze dropped to her lap, her chest tight. “It’s not just about that,” she said quietly. “It’s about everything. The world isn’t ready for someone like me, Rio. And I can’t afford to make a single misstep—not if I want to get where I’m going.”

Rio let out a bitter laugh, shaking her head. “You know what I think, Agatha?” she said. “I think you’re so afraid of losing control that you’d rather strangle yourself with the life you’ve built than take a chance on something real.”

Agatha turned to her, her eyes flashing with something dangerously close to anger. “You don’t understand what it takes to do what I’m trying to do.”

“Maybe I don’t. But maybe I do. I've been playing this different- as you like to call it- shit my whole life” Rio shot back. “But I know what it’s like to live in fear - of yourself. And trust me, it’s not worth it. Not for anything.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her resolve wavering for a moment. But then she straightened, her walls snapping back into place. “This isn’t about fear” she said, her voice cold. “It’s about survival.”

Rio’s grip on the wheel tightened, but she didn’t respond. The silence between them was heavy, thick with the weight of everything left unsaid. As the car rolled to a stop outside Agatha’s apartment, Rio finally turned to her, her expression unreadable.

“You might survive this way, Agatha,” she said quietly. “But I'll tell you again: don’t fool yourself into thinking you’re really living.”

As Rio pulled up to the driveway of Agatha’s apartment, the tension between them was suffocating. Instead of telling her to leave, she locked the doors, Rio shifted the car into park and turned to face Agatha, her expression unreadable but her jaw set.

“What are you doing?!” Agatha asked, her voice sharp, already reaching for the door handle.

“Making sure you don’t run away” Rio said, pressing the lock button with a deliberate click. “You’re going to listen to me, and for once, you’re not going to dodge the conversation.”

Agatha’s chest tightened, her breath catching in her throat. “Unlock the door” she demanded, her voice low and trembling.

“Not until you stop hiding behind all this bullshit” Rio snapped. Her hands were clenched on the wheel, but her gaze was laser-focused on Agatha. “You keep acting like the world will fall apart, but the truth is, you’re just scared. Scared of what it would mean if you actually let yourself want something for once.”

“Rio, stop.” Agatha’s voice was a warning, but it wavered, betraying the turmoil inside her.

“No, fuck, you stop!” Rio shot back, her voice rising. “You think I don’t see what you’re doing? You’re so obsessed with keeping up this image, with being everything your mother and this damn world expects you to be, that you’re suffocating yourself. And for what? To be president one day? To be some untouchable ideal that doesn’t even exist?”

“Because I have to!” Agatha shouted, her voice breaking as she turned to face Rio fully. “You don’t get it, Rio! I have to keep going with this facade. If I let it crack for one second, everything I’ve worked for falls apart!”

Rio stared at her, stunned, but Agatha wasn’t done. The words were pouring out now, unfiltered and raw.

“You think I can afford to let my… my whatever this is" Agatha said, pointing between them "...ruin everything I’ve built?” She spat, her face flushed with anger and shame. “I- I’m not some reckless idiot who throws everything away for a stupid, fleeting feeling. I can’t be.”

Rio’s expression softened for a moment, the harshness in her gaze replaced by something almost like pity.

“Is that what you think this is? A fleeting feeling?” she asked, her voice quieter now, but no less intense. “Because if it is, then fine. Get out of the car, walk away, and keep pretending you’re okay with living a lie. But if it’s not, Agatha, then you need to stop lying to yourself.”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her fists clenched at her sides. She looked at Rio, her heart pounding in her ears, and for a moment, she felt the weight of everything she had been carrying threaten to crush her. But then, just as quickly, she shoved it down again.

“I don’t have time for this” she muttered, reaching for the lock. “I don’t have time for you.”

Rio didn’t stop her this time. She unlocked the door herself, the sharp click echoing in the confined space. But as Agatha opened it and stepped out into the cold night, Rio’s voice stopped her in her tracks.

“You can lie to everyone around you, Agatha” Rio said, her tone calm but filled with quiet conviction. “But don’t lie to yourself. It’ll eat you alive.”

Agatha didn’t turn around. She couldn’t. She slammed the car door shut and walked toward her building, her steps quick and uneven, her vision blurred with unshed tears.

As she disappeared into the shadows, Rio sat back in the car, her grip on the wheel loosening. She let out a shaky breath, her own emotions swirling in the silence.

Her jaw clenched as a wave of anger surged through her.

She thinks she can just walk away?

After everything? After throwing her fucking existence at me like that?  Rio slammed her hands against the wheel, her breathing shallow and fast.

But as she watched Agatha fumble at the door to her building, Rio noticed her shoulders were trembling. She was crying.

And for some reason, that made Rio even angrier.

“Dammit” she muttered under her breath before shoving the door open and stepping out of the car, her boots crunching against the pavement. She stormed after Agatha, her anger and frustration fueling every step.

“Agatha!” she shouted, her voice cutting through the cold night air.

Agatha froze, her hand halfway to the keycard reader, her head hanging low. Her shoulders shook harder now, her sobs becoming audible as Rio approached.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Rio demanded, stopping just a few feet away. Her voice was sharp, but underneath it was something raw, something desperate. “You can’t keep doing this. You can’t just shove everyone away because you’re scared!”

Agatha turned to face her, her tear-streaked face lit by the flickering streetlight. “I’m not scared,” she choked out, her voice breaking on the lie. “For me, it's not that easy”

“Easy?!” Rio’s laugh was bitter, almost incredulous. “You think I don’t know what it’s like to have the world expect you to be something you’re not? To feel like you’re drowning and fighting for your right to be yourself every single day?”

Agatha shook her head, wiping furiously at her tears. “This isn’t about you” she snapped.

“No, it’s not!” Rio shot back, stepping closer. “It’s about you being too damn coward. You're not a little kid anymore. You don't need to please anyone!”

“I’m not doing that!” Agatha shouted, her voice cracking as fresh tears spilled over.

“Then what the hell are you doing?” Rio yelled, her frustration boiling over. “Because from where I’m standing, it looks a hell lot like people pleasing!”

Agatha’s breath hitched, and something inside her snapped.

Before she could think, before she could stop herself, she closed the distance between them, grabbing Rio by the front of her jacket in a manner that would scare anyone and pull her into to just a few inches of her face.

Rio blinked. But, before she could even say anything, Agatha closed the distance for good.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t tender. It was desperate, angry, and messy, her lips crashing against Rio’s like she was trying to erase everything that had just happened, everything that she couldn’t say.

Rio froze for a second, her eyes wide with shock, but then her hands came up, gripping Agatha’s waist as she kissed her back just as fiercely.

The world around them seemed to fall away, the only thing that existed was the fire between them, burning away their anger and pain.

Agatha pulled back suddenly, gasping for air, her lips swollen and her face streaked with tears.

“I hate you” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I hate how you make me feel. I hate that I can’t stop.”

Rio’s grip on her waist tightened, her own chest heaving. “Stop lying to yourself,” she said, her voice low and rough. “Fuck, Agatha, stop pretending”

Agatha shook her head, tears streaming down her face. She stared at Rio, her vision blurred, every nerve in her body alive with a fury that only stoked the fire within her.

“I hate you for making me feel this way” she spat, her voice trembling. “I hate you for getting under my skin.”

Rio opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, Agatha grabbed her again, shoving her back against the cold brick wall of the building. The sound of the impact was dull against the night air, but the force behind it made Rio’s breath hitch.

Agatha’s hands gripped the lapels of Rio’s jacket, her knuckles white as she pulled her closer. Her eyes blazed with a chaotic mix of emotions—rage, desire, anguish—and then, without warning, she kissed her again.

This time, it was harder, fiercer, every movement fueled by the hatred Agatha claimed to feel but couldn’t seem to escape. She kissed Rio like she was trying to exorcise every conflicting emotion inside her, her lips demanding, her teeth grazing.

“Fuck you, Rio” she hissed against Rio’s lips, her voice breaking. “Fuck you for making me want this.”

Rio’s hands found their way back to Agatha’s waist, steadying her, grounding her. But she didn’t fight back, didn’t push her away. Instead, she met Agatha’s fire with her own, her lips moving with equal intensity, her grip firm but never confining.

Agatha pulled back just long enough to curse her again, her voice choked with tears. “You ruin everything,” she said, her words punctuated by the sharp, desperate breaths she took. “I hate you for it.”

Rio’s chest heaved as she stared at Agatha, her lips swollen, her heart pounding.

“You don’t hate me,” she said, her voice hoarse but steady. “You hate that you can’t control this”

Agatha’s hands trembled where they gripped Rio’s jacket, her knuckles brushing against the warmth of Rio’s neck. “You think I don’t know that?” she whispered, her voice cracking. “You think I don’t fucking know how pathetic I am for this?”

Her tears spilled over, her anger melting into something raw and exposed. “The truth is that I can’t stop” she admitted, her voice barely audible, her words drenched in defeat. “I’ve tried. God, I’ve tried.”

Rio lifted a hand to Agatha’s face, her touch surprisingly gentle against the storm raging between them. She wiped away a tear with her thumb, her eyes locked onto Agatha’s, unflinching.

“Stop thinking" Rio said, her voice soft but firm. “Stop punishing yourself.”

Agatha flinched, her body stiffening, and for a moment, it seemed like she might pull away again. But then she leaned into Rio’s touch, her forehead resting against hers as she tried to catch her breath.

The silence between them was deafening, the weight of everything unsaid hanging in the cold night air. Agatha’s hands loosened their grip on Rio’s jacket, but she didn’t let go, her fingers lingering as if she wasn’t ready to lose the connection entirely.

“I hate you” she whispered, and then again "I fucking hate you" though this time it sounded less like a curse and more like a confession.

As Rio leaned back against the wall, trying to catch her breath and make sense of what had just happened, her phone buzzed violently in her pocket, interrupting the moment. She groaned, pulling it out, and her stomach sank when she saw Jen’s name flashing on the screen.

It was Saturday night. They weren’t supposed to be working. Not now, not in between this.

She glanced at Agatha, who was still trembling against the wall, her face streaked with tears, eyes locked on the ground. Rio hesitated for a fraction of a second before swiping to answer.

“What?” Rio snapped, not even trying to hide her irritation.

“Don’t you what me, Rio!” Jen’s voice blasted through the speaker, sharp and furious. “Why the fuck isn’t Agatha answering her phone?”

Rio pinched the bridge of her nose, exhaling a sharp breath. “It’s Saturday night, Jen. Maybe she doesn’t feel like answering.”

“Well, maybe she should,” Jen shot back. “Because Cadwell’s team just dropped a fucking bomb, and we need to clean it up yesterday.”

Rio’s chest tightened, her grip on the phone turning white-knuckled. “What kind of bomb?” she asked, her voice lowering dangerously.

“The kind that ruins careers,” Jen hissed. “Some old scandal. Something ugly. They’re digging into her past. College shit.”

Rio’s stomach sank. Her gaze flicked to Agatha, who was still struggling to compose herself. “College?” she echoed, her voice almost a whisper.

“Yes, Rio. College. Some rumor, some dirt. I don’t have all the details yet, but Cadwell’s people are making moves. Smear campaign shit. They’re trying to tank her.”

“Fuck” Rio muttered under her breath. “What exactly are they saying?”

“They’re being cagey, which means they’re waiting for the perfect moment to strike,” Jen said, her words tumbling out like rapid-fire. “But you know how this works. If we don’t get ahead of this, we’re screwed.”

Rio looked at Agatha again, her heart pounding. Agatha’s face was pale now, her tears drying but leaving behind a hollow, broken expression.

“Jen” Rio said tightly, “I’ll call you back.”

“Don’t fucking hang up on me, Rio—”

But Rio did exactly that, sliding her phone back into her pocket. She crossed her arms, staring at Agatha for a long moment, her mind racing.

“Agatha” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

Agatha flinched slightly, looking up at her with bloodshot eyes. “What?”

“Jen just called,” Rio said, her words cutting through the air. “Cadwell’s pulling something. College stuff. Some kind of scandal.”

Agatha’s face drained of color, her eyes widening. “College??” she repeated, her voice shaky.

Rio nodded, watching her closely. “Yeah. College. What the hell is he digging up?”

Agatha didn’t answer. Her mouth opened, but no sound came out. Instead, she turned away, pressing her hands against her face as if she could physically block out the world.

Rio took a step closer. “Agatha” she said again, more forcefully this time. “What is it? What’s he got on you?”

“I don’t know” Agatha whispered, though her tone betrayed her. She was lying. And Rio knew it.

“Bullshit” Rio snapped. “You do know. And if you don’t tell me right fucking now, we’re not going to be able to stop it.”

Agatha spun around, her face twisted with anger and fear. “I said I don’t fucking know, Rio!” she screamed, but her voice broke, betraying the truth buried underneath.

Rio clenched her jaw, her patience wearing thin. She took another step forward, closing the distance between them again. “Right now, I’m the only person who can help you. So stop lying and tell me what the fuck is going on.”

Agatha stood frozen for a moment, her lips pressed tightly together, her hands trembling at her sides. Finally, she inhaled sharply, as if bracing herself against a gust of wind, and nodded.

“Fine,” she said, her voice cold and flat. “Come upstairs.”

Rio arched an eyebrow, skeptical but silent. She followed Agatha up the steps to her apartment, the air between them heavy with unspoken tension. Agatha unlocked the door, pushed it open, and walked in without looking back, leaving Rio to shut it behind her.

Agatha flicked on a lamp, casting a dim, warm light across the room. She crossed to the bar cart by the window and poured herself a stiff drink, her hand trembling as she brought it to her lips.

Rio leaned against the doorframe, her arms crossed. “I’m waiting” she said bluntly.

Agatha drained half the glass in one go before setting it down with a clatter. She turned to face Rio, her expression a mix of defiance and resignation. “You want to know what Cadwell might have on me? Fine. But this doesn’t leave this room.”

Rio straightened, her eyes narrowing. “I’m listening.”

Agatha took a deep breath, her hands gripping the edge of the bar cart for support. “When I was in college” she began, her voice low and uneven, “my mother... she did something. Something that still makes me sick to think about.”

Rio didn’t move, her gaze locked on Agatha, waiting for her to continue.

“I was struggling,” Agatha admitted, her voice cracking. “Not academically—I was always good at keeping up appearances. But personally. Emotionally. I hated my life, Rio. I hated being Evanora’s perfect little prodigy. I wanted to break away, to be... someone else. Anyone else.”

She swallowed hard, her eyes glassy with tears. “There was this professor. He was... powerful. Influential. A real big shot in political science. And he offered me a way out. Or at least, that’s what I thought.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, a sinking feeling settling in her gut. “What did he offer you?”

Agatha laughed bitterly, her voice dripping with self-loathing. “He offered to ‘mentor’ me. To give me the connections I needed to jumpstart my career. And I was desperate enough to take it. But it wasn’t mentorship he wanted.”

Rio’s fists clenched at her sides. “Agatha…”

“I never slept with him,” Agatha said quickly, her voice rising defensively. “I couldn’t. I couldn’t stoop that low, no matter how much I wanted to escape my mother’s shadow. But he... he tried to ruin me when I said no. He spread rumors. Told people I’d propositioned him, that I was willing to trade sex for favors.”

Rio’s stomach churned. “And your mother?”

Agatha’s face darkened, her hands tightening into fists. “She found out. She always finds out. And instead of helping me, instead of protecting me, she used it.”

Rio’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean, she used it?”

“She flipped the narrative,” Agatha said bitterly. “She leaked stories about him. About his history with female students. Made him the villain. She didn’t care about the truth. She didn’t care about what it did to me. All she cared about was making sure I came out looking like the innocent victim. And it worked.”

Rio stared at her, horrified. “She destroyed his life.”

Agatha nodded, tears streaming down her face. “And she made me complicit. She made me play along, made me give interviews, made me thank her publicly for being my ‘rock.’ I became a poster child for overcoming adversity, and my political star started rising. But I wasn’t overcoming anything, Rio. I was part of a fucking lie.”

Rio ran a hand through her hair, pacing the room. “Jesus Christ, Agatha…”

“I assume that’s what Cadwell’s team will dig up,” Agatha said, her voice hollow. “The truth. That the professor was a predator, sure, but also that my mother orchestrated the whole thing to boost my image. And me? I didn’t stop her. I let her do it because I was too scared, too weak to say no.”

Rio turned to her, her eyes blazing. “This isn’t just about your mother, Agatha. This is about you. What you’re willing to do. What you’ve already done.”

Agatha let out a broken sob, sinking onto the couch. “You think I don’t know that? You think I don’t hate myself every single day for it? But I can’t change it, Rio. I can’t undo it. All I can do is keep moving forward and hope no one finds out.”

Rio stared at her, her mind racing. Finally, she said, “Then we fight this. We get ahead of it.”

Agatha looked up at her, her eyes red and puffy. “How?”

Rio stepped closer, her voice steady and fierce. “We tell the truth. Not all of it, but enough. Enough to control the narrative before Cadwell can.”

Agatha shook her head. “You don’t understand. The truth will destroy me.”

Rio frowned, her jaw tightening. “What do you mean? What the hell are you talking about, Agatha?”

Agatha squeezed her eyes shut, her fingers digging into her temples as if trying to physically push the memories away. But they came rushing back, jagged and unrelenting.

“It’s not just the lies” she began, her voice raw and hollow. “It’s what happened after. A year and a half later, I saw it on the news. Professor Warren...” She spat the name like it burned her tongue. “He was found dead in his house. The official story was suicide, but…”

Rio froze, her breath catching. “But what?”

Agatha opened her eyes, staring at Rio with a mix of terror and shame. “But it didn’t make sense. He wasn’t the kind of man to give up like that. He had money, connections, power. He was fighting back, Rio. He was suing the university, threatening to expose my mother’s scheme. He wasn’t going to roll over and die.”

Rio’s stomach twisted as she began to piece it together. “You think...”

“I don’t know” Agatha said quickly, her voice rising. “I don’t know. But I do know my mother, Rio. I know how far she’ll go to protect what she’s built. And that’s what terrifies me.”

Rio stared at her, stunned into silence.

“She never said anything,” Agatha continued, her voice trembling. “She never even mentioned his name after it happened. But I could feel it, Rio. In the way she looked at me, in the way she started pushing me harder, faster, higher. Like she was trying to justify whatever it is she did. Whatever it is she had done.”

Rio shook her head, disbelief and fury battling for dominance on her face. “Are you seriously saying you think your mother... had him killed?”

“I don’t know!” Agatha shouted, tears streaming down her face now. “I don’t know if it was her, or someone working for her, or if he really did put a gun to his head and pull the trigger. But it doesn’t matter, does it? Because the stain is still there. On me. On everything I’ve done. And if this comes out—if Cadwell connects the dots—it’ll ruin me. I’ll be finished.”

Rio stepped back, her hands shaking. “Agatha, this is... this is fucking insane. You can’t seriously think she would...”

“Why not?” Agatha interrupted, her voice cold now. “You’ve seen what she’s capable of. Don't act like you haven't done your research. Don’t tell me you wouldn’t believe it.”

Rio didn’t answer. She couldn’t.

Agatha’s laugh was sharp and bitter. “Exactly. And you think we can ‘tell the truth’? That we can spin this in a way that doesn’t make me look like a monster or an accomplice? Wake up, Rio. The truth doesn’t save people like me. It eats us alive.”

Rio ran a hand through her hair, pacing the room. “Jesus Christ, Agatha. And you’ve been carrying this all these years? Alone?”

Agatha nodded, her expression one of quiet defeat. “Because I didn’t have a choice. Because this is the life I signed up for, and there’s no getting out of it.”

Rio stopped pacing, turning to face her. “But you do have a choice now. You can stop this. You can stand up to her, to all of it.”

Agatha shook her head, her eyes glassy with tears. “It’s not that simple. It’s never been that simple. I mean.. Fuck, okay yeah he was disgusting, but he never touched me, he just offered the trade. Loosing his life? For some kind of fucked up power play my mother had over me?”

Rio crossed the room in two strides, grabbing Agatha by the shoulders. “Then make it simple,” she said fiercely. “For once in your life, Agatha, choose something for yourself. Not for your mother. Not for your career. Not for anyone but you. If she did it, it was to show you how bad it can get if you don't follow her lead. But...”

The weight of Rio’s words crushed her, but so did the weight of her own guilt.

"Rio, she's capable of turning the world upside down just to keep me in check." Agatha’s knees buckled, the weight of her confession too much to bear.

She collapsed onto the couch, her face buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. It was the kind of cry that clawed its way out of her chest, raw and broken, a sound that echoed every inch of pain and fear she had locked away for years.

Rio didn’t hesitate. She was beside her in an instant, dropping to her knees in front of Agatha. Without a word, she wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close. Agatha resisted at first, her body stiff and trembling, but Rio’s hold was firm, unwavering.

“Let it out” Rio whispered against her hair. “Let it all out.”

Agatha clung to her like a lifeline, her tears soaking into Rio’s jacket as she shook in her arms. The dam had broken, and there was no stopping it now. Years of pain, guilt, and fear poured out of her, and Rio took it all without flinching.

Rio’s hands moved in soothing circles over Agatha’s back, her voice steady and calm. “You’re not alone in this. Not anymore. Do you hear me?”

Agatha couldn’t speak, couldn’t do anything but cry harder at the words.

Rio pulled back just enough to cup Agatha’s face, forcing her to meet her gaze. Her voice was low but fierce, every word dripping with conviction. “If your mother even thinks about laying a hand on you—if she so much as breathes in your direction the wrong way—I’ll fucking bury her.”

Agatha’s breath hitched, her wide, tear-filled eyes searching Rio’s face. There was no hesitation, no doubt in Rio’s expression—only a protective, burning fury that made Agatha’s chest tighten for an entirely different reason.

“You deserve to feel free in this world” Rio continued, her thumbs brushing away Agatha’s tears. “I’ve got you."

Agatha’s lips trembled, and a fresh wave of tears spilled over. But this time, they weren’t tears of despair. They were tears of something else entirely—something she couldn’t name, but that felt an awful lot like hope.

Rio held her tightly again, her arms a shield against the storm raging outside and within. The room fell silent except for Agatha’s soft sobs, her breathing slowly evening out as Rio’s presence enveloped her like armor. For the first time in a long time, Agatha felt something other than fear.

She felt safe.

Oh, God, no. 

She felt safe.... Around Rio.

Agatha's sobs began to subside, but the tension in her body didn’t ease. Instead, it shifted into something raw and volatile, a fire simmering just beneath her skin. She pulled back from Rio’s embrace, her breathing uneven as she wiped at her swollen eyes with trembling hands.

“I-” she whispered, her voice shaky but loaded with an anger that had nothing to do with Rio and everything to do with herself. “God, I hate you.”

Rio’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t move away. Instead, she reached out, her fingers brushing a tear that Agatha had missed. “No, you don’t” she said softly.

“Stop it” Agatha snapped, slapping Rio’s hand away but immediately grabbing it again, as if she couldn’t decide whether to push her away or pull her closer. “Stop looking at me like that—like you see right through me. Like you know me.”

“Because I do” Rio said, her voice calm but her grip on Agatha’s hand firm. “And that scares the hell out of you, doesn’t it?”

“Of course it scares me!” Agatha’s voice cracked, her chest heaving as the words spilled out. “I’ve spent my entire life making sure no one ever really sees me, and then you just—just—” Her hands clenched into fists, trembling at her sides. “I don’t even know who the hell I am anymore when I’m around you!”

Rio stayed silent, watching her with an intensity that made Agatha’s skin burn. She hated it. She hated how Rio didn’t flinch, how she didn’t pull away, how she just stood there, letting her unravel. It made her feel too much, made her want too much.

Before she could stop herself, Agatha grabbed Rio’s face, her fingers digging into her jaw. “You ruin me” she said, her voice trembling, tears streaming down her cheeks. “Do you even know that? You make me feel so fucking exposed, like I’m nothing but raw nerves.”

Rio’s hands found her waist, steadying her even as Agatha trembled with the force of her emotions. “Then ruin me back” Rio said, her voice low and unwavering.

Something inside Agatha snapped. She surged forward, crushing her mouth against Rio’s in a kiss that was anything but gentle. It was a collision, full of anger and desperation, her teeth catching on Rio’s lips as her hands pulled her impossibly closer.

Rio responded without hesitation, her grip tightening on Agatha’s waist as she kissed her back with just as much ferocity. Their bodies pressed together, their breaths mingling as the kiss turned wild and chaotic, more a battle than an act of affection.

Agatha broke away just long enough to whisper, her voice ragged and broken “I hate you for this.” But even as the words left her lips, her hands slid into Rio’s hair, pulling her back down into another searing kiss.

This time, Rio pushed forward, backing Agatha into the wall. Her hands roamed, gripping Agatha’s hips with a force that made her gasp against her mouth. “No, you don’t” Rio growled against her lips. “You hate yourself for letting go—for letting me in" she said, while she sucked Agatha's neck "But you don’t hate me, Agatha.”

Agatha let out a sound that was half sob, half moan, her nails digging into Rio’s shoulders as if she was trying to anchor herself in the storm of her own emotions. She kissed her harder, pouring every ounce of her anger, fear, and longing into it, desperate to drown out everything else.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were gasping for air, their faces flushed and their bodies trembling. Agatha’s forehead rested against Rio’s, her tears falling unchecked as she whispered, her voice cracked and hoarse, “I don't know what to do with you..”

Rio’s hands slid up to cup Agatha’s face, her thumbs brushing away the tears once more.

“Then figure it out” she said simply. 

Chapter Text

Sunday morning. 

Agatha woke up with the harsh buzz of her phone cutting through the silence. Groggy, she squinted at the screen—Lilia. She rubbed her eyes and, with a heavy sigh, opened the email.

Her heart skipped a beat. She could feel her pulse hammering in her temples as she opened the message.

Agatha,

I just saw the article—attached below—and I need an explanation. What is this? Why am I reading about your past with this Professor Warren? Why are people questioning whether his death was a suicide or something more?

If this scandal gets any more traction, your entire run will be in jeopardy. And if your reputation tanks, I’ll have no choice but to pull my support.

I expect answers, and I expect them fast.

Lilia

Agatha’s stomach dropped. She stared at the screen, her hands trembling as she scrolled to the attached article. The title screamed at her.

“Suicide or Silencing? Congresswoman Harkness and Her Rise to Power”

Her breathing became shallow, her mind racing as she clicked the link.

"When Agatha Harkness was assigned to the classes of Professor Warren, a prominent academic in the political science department at the University of Georgetown, it seemed like a routine academic appointment for the bright young student. Warren, well known for his influential connections in the political world, had been a respected figure at the university. However, things took a dark turn shortly after Harkness joined his class.

Sources report, that after a series of allegations against Warren, he was abruptly fired from his position, leaving behind a trail of questions. Harkness was one of the first to publicly accuse him of inappropriate conduct, claiming that he had made repeated advances toward her, using his position of power to pressure her into submission. She stated that she had been coerced into actions she later regretted.

But was Warren really the predator he was made out to be, or did Harkness take a calculated step to clear her name and protect her future political ambitions?

The allegations against the professor were the catalyst for his dramatic downfall. A year and a half later, he was found dead in his home, an apparent suicide. His passing has sparked further speculation, with some questioning whether it was truly a suicide or if he was silenced before he could reveal more about the allegations against Harkness.

Adding more fuel to the fire is the fact that Warren's replacement, Professor Lockwood, was allegedly part of the inner circle of Harkness’ mother, Evanora Harkness, a powerful political figure in her own right.

Is this a case of justice served, or a calculated move by Agatha Harkness to further her career at any cost? The truth remains unclear. The lines between fact and fiction blur as Harkness continues her rapid rise to power."

Agatha stared at the screen, her blood running cold. The words seemed to blur together, but she couldn’t tear her eyes away.

The article made it sound like she was the mastermind behind Warren's downfall. It implied that her accusations against him were less about truth and more about strategy, to protect her career. And then, the mention of Warren's death—his mysterious suicide—it made her feel like everything was spiraling out of control.

Her thoughts reeled back to that time in college, to the tension with the professor, to the pressure of being so young and feeling so small in such a big world. The things he had said to her—the things he had tried to do, the trade he had offered her, the awful choices she had been forced to make to protect herself. But now, the story was being told in a way that painted her as manipulative, calculating—someone who could twist the truth to fit her ambitions.

The mention of her mother’s involvement in Warren's replacement only added to the web of corruption they were trying to link her to. Evanora. Always there, always pulling the strings.

Agatha’s hands shook as she backed herself in the bed, her mind spinning.

This is bad.

Worse than bad.

She closed her eyes, trying to steady herself.

How did they get this information? Who was behind it?

Her phone buzzed again. Lilia. It was another message, likely demanding an explanation, an answer.

Agatha glanced down at it, but all she could think of was how much this article had the potential to unravel everything she had worked for. And she was out of time. She had to act fast—or risk losing it all.

Agatha’s eyes stung, her hands trembling as she read the words over and over. Each sentence felt like a knife, twisting deeper into her gut. The silence of the apartment seemed to amplify the words, the accusations, until it felt like the walls themselves were closing in. She was trapped.

Her heart hammered against her chest as her fingers hovered over her phone. Lilia's words still rang in her mind, and she knew the woman wasn't one to make empty threats. If she believed even half of what this article implied, her political career was hanging by a thread. Agatha had spent her life trying to climb, trying to be seen as a powerful, unshakable force in the world—now it felt as though the ground beneath her was slipping away.

The words blurred on the screen as Agatha let the phone fall into her lap. The room felt colder now, darker, the weight of her own mind pressing down on her. Her breath was shaky, uneven.

Her thoughts began to race again, spinning out of control. She had always known the political world was a dangerous game, but this? This was something else entirely. There were too many pieces she didn’t understand. Too many things that didn’t add up. 

The truth of what happened with Professor Warren was buried deep inside her. But the article—this devastating story—had just cracked it open. She had always kept it locked away, too terrified to confront what had really happened back then.

But now, she couldn’t escape it.

Her eyes closing as the storm of emotions engulfed her.

Fear.

Anger.

Desperation.

She hated that her life was defined by lies, that her mother had buried her in a web of manipulation and control, all in the name of power. And worse—the way it had all started to seep into every part of her. Into the people she trusted. Into the relationships she’d tried to build.

Her hands clenched into fists as she squeezed her eyes shut.

How much of it had been her own fault? How much had she done willingly? Was she really a victim—or was she just another pawn in her mother’s game?

Suddenly, a knock on the door broke her from her thoughts. She didn’t move at first. Her heart still pounding, she stayed frozen, staring at the phone in her lap as though it might hold the answers.

The knock came again, louder this time. Agatha wiped her face, taking a deep breath to steady herself. She didn’t want to face anyone—not now, not like this. If it was Lilia knocking on her door, she was fucked. But she knew - she knew she couldn’t hide forever.

She stood up, her legs shaky, and moved to the door. She had already made the decision before she opened it—there was no going back now. The world was waiting for her to fight.

As the door swung open, Rio stood there, her eyes soft but concerned. She didn’t speak at first, just took in Agatha’s disheveled state, the raw emotion written across her face.

“Agatha…” Rio’s voice was a low murmur, her gaze flicking from Agatha’s tear-streaked face to the phone still in her hands.

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, her voice barely audible. “It’s over, Rio. Everything I’ve worked for, everything I’ve built—it’s all about to come crashing down.”

Rio stepped inside, her gaze locking onto Agatha’s with fierce intensity. “Did you read it?”

Agatha handed her the phone without a word, letting her read the article herself. She didn’t have the energy to say more. She knew Rio would understand it without needing a single word.

She showed her the email from Lilia.

Rio read for a moment in silence, and when she finished, she stood still, her eyes hardening, lips pressed into a thin line. The anger was palpable in the air between them, but it wasn’t directed at Agatha. It was something much darker—something aimed at everyone who had helped bring this nightmare to life.

Rio didn’t say anything at first, just walked over to Agatha, pulling her into her arms without warning. Agatha didn’t fight it, didn’t resist. She allowed herself to feel the weight of the situation. She allowed herself to feel vulnerable, to let Rio be the person she needed right now.

Rio’s voice was low but steady when she spoke. “This won’t destroy you. And- Look. There's other potential donors. You don't need Lilia”

Agatha shook her head, the tears coming harder now, her body shaking with the weight of everything crashing down around her. “Rio, she's funding a third of this whole thing” she whispered, voice breaking. “And even if I don't. If SHE doesn't stand by me, no one else will. And it’s too late to fix it. It’s too late to change what I’ve done.”

Rio pulled back just enough to look her in the eyes, her hands cupping Agatha’s face, holding her steady. “Agatha I- I’m not going anywhere.”

Agatha opened her mouth to respond, but no words came. Instead, all she could do was collapse into Rio’s chest again.

After a few moments of silence, Rio spoke again “I knew this was coming today” she said softly, her tone sharp but filled with something Agatha couldn’t quite place. “Jen called me after I got out of your place last night. She told me they were about to drop it like a bomb. This was part of Cadwell's move, to drop in in the middle of the night so it would land like a bomb.”

Agatha felt a chill run through her, like something cold and relentless had settled in her chest. She hadn’t expected this, not after everything she had tried to bury. The past she had fought to hide, the secrets she had kept in the dark—now it was all out there. And Rio knew. Damn, the whole world was about to know.

Her heart started to race, her hands shaking as she dropped the phone onto the table. "Why didn’t you tell me?” Agatha whispered, the words barely leaving her throat. “Why didn’t you warn me?"

“Because I was hoping I could get here and tell you in person” she said softly “I was trying to be here when you read it. I knew you weren’t ready for it, but I wasn’t going to let you handle this on your own, Agatha. This isn't just about a scandal—this is about them trying to destroy you. I wasn’t going to let you go through that feeling alone.”

Agatha's chest tightened as the truth of Rio's words hit her. The sheer magnitude of what had happened, what was happening now, weighed down on her like a physical force. And yet, it was the coldest thing she had ever felt—this realization that she had been played, that everything she had worked so hard to protect was slipping away.

She shook her head, taking a shaky step back. “I can’t... I can’t do this anymore. I don’t know how to fix this, Rio. This whole thing—Warren, my mother, my career—it’s all falling apart. How the hell do I fight something like this?”

Rio took another step forward, her gaze unwavering as she reached out, grabbing Agatha’s arm gently but firmly. “You fight with everything you’ve got,” she said quietly, but the fire in her eyes matched the intensity of her words. 

For a long moment, Agatha just stood there, breathing heavily, feeling the weight of everything crashing down on her. She thought of the scandal, of the lies, of the people who would turn their backs on her in the blink of an eye. But more than that, she thought of her mother—the puppet master, always pulling the strings, always controlling the narrative.

“Do you really think I can survive this?” Agatha’s voice was barely above a whisper, the pain in her words almost too much to bear.

“I know you can” Rio replied without hesitation. 

Agatha wiped her face, frustration bubbling over. “Stop making me- Stop making me feel seen, Rio,” she choked out, tears blurring her vision. “I don’t want you to see me like this. I don’t want you to know everything I’ve done. I’m not the person you think I am.”

"I dont really know who you really are. But, Congresswoman, I'm trying to find out." She laughed, trying to aliviate the tension.

Rio closed the space between them by taking one step further, slow but sure, her eyes never leaving Agatha’s face. Her hand, still holding Agatha’s arm, gently slid to her wrist, tracing the delicate line of it as she guided her closer. Agatha’s breath caught in her throat, her heart hammering in her chest, but Rio didn’t stop. She was relentless, pulling Agatha toward her with a quiet but insistent force.

“You don’t get to hide from me” Rio said, her voice low, almost dangerous now. The words felt like a promise, a warning, and Agatha’s breath hitched in her chest as she found herself pinned in place, unable to look away from Rio's eyes, unable to move, to think, to fight.

Rio reached up, fingers brushing lightly against Agatha’s jaw, and the touch sent a shiver down her spine. Her thumb grazed the curve of her cheek, almost tender, but the heat between them was far from gentle. Agatha’s pulse quickened, her skin burning under Rio’s touch, but she was still frozen, still trapped in the space between wanting to pull away and needing to give in.

"Let me in, Congresswoman" Rio whispered, her voice thick with something both dangerous and intoxicating. “Let me see the truth of you. The raw truth. ”

Before Agatha could respond, Rio’s hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer, until their foreheads were almost touching. The air between them crackled with anticipation, and Agatha could feel the pressure building, like a storm about to break.

“I won’t let you hide from me anymore" Rio breathed, her lips brushing lightly against Agatha’s, just a tease, just enough to make the tension unbearable. "I’m not afraid of your truth" her nose brushed against Agatha's "If anything, I'm drawn to it"

The words shattered the last of Agatha's resolve, and before she could even think, she was kissing Rio—hard, desperate, angry. It was nothing like before. This wasn’t a fight. This wasn’t even a kiss—it was a battle, a storm. Their mouths collided, tongues clashing in a frenzy. 

Rio responded in kind, her body pressing into Agatha’s with a force that made the world around them feel distant, irrelevant. It was a kiss that was filled with everything they couldn’t say, everything they hadn’t allowed themselves to feel. It was frantic, messy, full of hunger and need that neither could contain.

Agatha’s hands grabbed at Rio’s shirt, pulling her closer, as if trying to merge their bodies together, to drown out everything else, to forget about the world outside, about the scandal, about the war that was about to erupt in her life. For this moment, there was only the heat between them, the frantic rhythm of their bodies, and the quiet promise that maybe, just maybe, they didn’t have to face everything alone.

But when Agatha pulled away, gasping for air, her chest rising and falling with the force of her breath, Rio’s hands were still on her—firm, steady, as if holding her together. She was playing with the edges of Agatha's shirt.

Agatha’s heart raced, her body trembling from the force of the kiss. She wanted to say something, wanted to apologize or explain, but all she could do was look at Rio, her emotions swirling in a chaotic storm that made it impossible to think clearly.

“I...” Agatha started, her voice hoarse, but she couldn’t finish the thought. 

Rio’s gaze softened, though there was still fire in her eyes “With all due respect, Congresswoman- Shut the fuck up” she whispered, her fingers tracing the curve of Agatha’s cheek again.

Agatha didn't respond. Rio let out a satisfied smirk.

She then proceeded to push Agatha's back to the kitchen counter. Her hands dig themselves deeper in her shirt - like she was starved. She kissed Agatha's neck again, sucking it.

“Good girl” Rio said without missing a beat, her hands sliding to the back of Agatha’s legs.

Before Agatha could process what was happening, Rio lifted her effortlessly, setting her down on the counter. The cold surface beneath her was a sharp contrast to the heat radiating between them, but it only heightened the intensity of the moment.

Agatha gripped the edge of the counter, her nails digging into the stone as Rio stepped between her legs, her body pressing into hers with a force that made Agatha’s breath hitch. And then Rio kissed her—hard, desperate, like she was claiming her. It wasn’t soft or sweet. It was raw, messy, and filled with a hunger that neither of them could control anymore.

Agatha responded just as fiercely, her hands tangling in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer, needing more. Her legs wrapped around Rio’s waist, anchoring her there, and she could feel the tension in every muscle, every movement, as if Rio was holding herself back from losing control completely.

The kiss deepened, their tongues clashing, breaths mingling, and Agatha’s body arched into Rio’s, desperate to close every inch of space between them. She felt like she was drowning, consumed by the intensity of it all, but she didn’t want to come up for air. Not when Rio was kissing her like this, touching her like this, making her feel like the world outside didn’t exist.

"Hmmmmm, fuck" Agatha moaned into Rio's mouth.

When Rio finally pulled back, her forehead resting against Agatha’s, they were both breathing hard, their chests rising and falling in unison. Agatha’s lips were swollen, her cheeks flushed, her body trembling with adrenaline and need.

“You’re impossible” Agatha whispered, her voice shaky but laced with something that sounded dangerously like surrender.

Rio smirked, her hands sliding up to cup Agatha’s face. “And you’re a liar,” she said, her voice softer now but no less commanding. “But I’ll deal with that later”

Agatha's legs surrounded Rio in a more brutal way, as if she were pulling her more and more towards her center. She came a little forward on the counter, brushing directly against Rio's waist. She could feel herself getting wet. Rio started by kissing Agatha's neck, she then opened the buttons of her shirt one by one, taking her time and leaving open mouth kisses along the way. 

There was a glimpse of redness in Agatha's chest, hinting she was getting hotter by the second. 

Agatha’s breath hitched as Rio’s lips began a slow descent, trailing a line of kisses down her cleavage. Each press of Rio’s mouth was deliberate, sending sparks of heat coursing through her body. Her fingers tangled in Rio’s hair, pulling her closer, needing the contact even as her mind raced with uncertainty.

Rio’s hands moved to her waist, firm and steady, holding her in place as she kissed the curve of Agatha’s collarbone, her lips grazing the sensitive skin there. Agatha let out a shaky moan, the sound still felt foreign even to her own ears. She felt out of control, her body responding to Rio’s touch with a need that both thrilled and terrified her.

“You're gonna be the death of me” Agatha murmured, her voice trembling. She arched her back slightly as Rio’s lips traveled lower, lingering at the edge of her bra. Rio’s hands slid to her thighs, the heat of her palms igniting a fire that seemed to spread everywhere at once.

Rio smirked against her skin, the low hum of satisfaction reverberating between them. “Good” she murmured, her breath warm against Agatha’s cleavage. She pressed another kiss there, and Agatha’s grip on her hair tightened.

Agatha gasped as Rio’s lips dipped lower, teasing the edge of her bra like she was about to pull it to the side, her hands gripping the counter for balance. Her mind felt hazy, lost in the overwhelming sensations, but a flicker of hesitation flared in the back of her mind.

“Rio” she said, her voice breathy, almost a moan.

Rio hummed in response, her mouth still working its way across Agatha’s skin, leaving a trail of warmth and want.

“Rio, wait” Agatha’s voice was firmer now, though it wavered with the effort of restraint. She tilted Rio’s face up, forcing her to meet her gaze. Her chest heaved, her cheeks flushed with heat and desire, but there was something else there too—a vulnerability that cut through the haze. “I… I don’t know if I’m ready for more.”

Rio’s expression softened instantly, her hands stilling on Agatha’s thighs. She searched Agatha’s eyes, her own breath unsteady as she took in the weight of her words. “Hey” she said softly, her voice a low rumble that sent another shiver through Agatha, despite herself. “We don’t have to do anything you’re not ready for”

Agatha swallowed hard, her heart racing as she tried to put her swirling emotions into words. “It’s not that I don’t want to” she admitted, her voice cracking slightly. “I just… I don’t know how to handle all of this. You. Me. This whole thing. It’s a lot.”

Rio nodded, her hands sliding up to cradle Agatha’s face. “I get it,” she said, her voice steady, grounding. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I’m not going anywhere, Agatha.”

The tenderness in Rio’s voice, the patience in her gaze, made Agatha’s chest tighten. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against Rio’s, her eyes closing as she tried to steady her breathing. “I hate how wet you make me feel” she whispered.

Rio chuckled softly, pressing a kiss to her cheek. “Then I guess you’re going to hate me for a long time.”

Agatha rushed to turn her face to kiss Rio again, wrapping her legs behind Rio's waist. She didn't even know if she wanted to move forward or if she wanted to slow down. 

God, you're intoxicating. She thought.

Agatha gasped as Rio’s lips found the sensitive spot just below her ear, her breath hitching as Rio’s hands slid up her thighs again, pulling her even closer to the edge of the counter. The heat between them was unbearable, the tension coiling tighter with every kiss, every touch.

Her phone buzzed on the countertop beside them, an unwelcome interruption. She ignored it, her focus entirely on Rio’s mouth, on the way her hands gripped her waist like she was afraid to let go.

The phone buzzed again. And again. A sharp, incessant vibration that refused to be ignored.

“Just—leave it” Agatha managed between gasps, her fingers threading through Rio’s hair, tugging her closer. But the buzzing didn’t stop, the rhythm becoming maddeningly insistent.

Rio pulled back slightly, her lips swollen, her breath warm against Agatha’s skin.

“It could be important,” she murmured, her voice low and husky, though there was a flicker of irritation in her eyes.

Agatha groaned, tilting her head back in frustration. The buzzing stopped for a beat, only to start again with renewed determination. “Goddammit,” she muttered, reaching for the phone with trembling fingers.

The screen lit up, and her breath caught in her throat when she saw the name.

Mother

Her phone screen glared at her, sharp and cold, a stark contrast to the warmth and fire she’d just been consumed by. Her stomach twisted, the sight of it pulling her back to reality with brutal efficiency.

“It’s her” Agatha said quietly, her voice laced with dread. She held up the phone for Rio to see, her hand shaking slightly. “My mother.”

Rio’s jaw tightened, her hands still resting on Agatha’s hips. “Do you want to answer it?”

Agatha hesitated, staring at the screen as it continued to vibrate in her hand. She felt torn, caught between the safety of Rio’s presence and the storm she knew Evanora would bring. The buzzing felt louder, more aggressive, as if her mother’s presence could seep through the phone and take over.

With a resigned sigh, she swiped to answer, her voice steady but cold as she brought the phone to her ear. “What do you want, Mother?”

Evanora’s voice cut through the line like a whip, sharp and furious.

“Do you have any idea what you’ve done?” she snapped, her tone a perfect blend of rage and disdain. “Tell me you didn’t—tell me you weren’t so reckless, so stupid, as to have leaked something about Warren.”

Agatha’s blood ran cold. She gripped the edge of the counter with her free hand, her knuckles white. “What the hell are you talking about, Mother?” she demanded, her voice laced with frustration. “Why would I leak something? Why would I do anything to sabotage myself?”

“Don’t play coy with me” Evanora spat, her voice escalating. “That article—the one that paints you like some wide-eyed little victim while conveniently highlighting every skeleton in my closet? You think I don’t know what game you’re playing? Did you think painting me as the villain would somehow exonerate you? Make you the poor, blameless daughter who’s been dragged into the mud by her monstrous mother?”

Agatha’s mouth fell open in disbelief. “Are you serious right now? Have you even read the article? This stains my imagine so much more than yours! You think I orchestrated this? That I’d risk my entire career—my entire life—just to score some petty point against you?”

Evanora let out a harsh, humorless laugh. “Oh, don’t play the martyr, darling. I know how desperate you are to carve out your little empire. But don’t you dare forget whose name built the foundation you’re standing on. Do you really think you’d be where you are without me? Without the connections I handed you?”

Agatha clenched her jaw, her free hand balling into a fist. “You mean the connections that come with a leash?” she shot back. “The ones you can yank whenever I step out of line? I’ve done everything you wanted, Mother. I’ve danced to every tune you’ve played. And now you’re accusing me of trying to destroy myself?”

Evanora’s voice dropped, low and menacing. “You think I don’t recognize desperation when I see it? That I can’t tell when you’re trying to get ahead of something? You’ve always been clever, Agatha, but you’re not clever enough to outmaneuver me. If I find out you had anything to do with this article—if you so much as breathed a word to the wrong person—you’ll wish you’d never set foot in my world.”

Agatha’s throat tightened, a lump forming as the sheer venom in her mother’s words sank in. She couldn’t believe it—couldn’t believe Evanora was twisting this into some Machiavellian scheme of her own making.

“I didn’t leak anything” she said, her voice trembling but firm. “But you know what, Mother? Maybe if you didn’t have so many skeletons in your closet, you wouldn’t have to spend all your time wondering who’s about to open the door.”

For a moment, there was silence on the other end of the line, and Agatha could almost imagine Evanora’s icy glare through the phone.

“You listen to me” Evanora said finally, her voice colder than ever. “You may think you’re untouchable, but this world isn’t kind to little girls who bite the hand that feeds them. Clean this up, Agatha. Now. Or I’ll clean it up for you—and you won’t like how I do it.”

The line went dead before Agatha could respond, the silence that followed somehow louder than the words that had just been spoken. She stared at the phone in her hand, her chest heaving, her mind reeling from the venomous exchange.

Rio’s hands were clenched into fists at her sides, her body vibrating with barely contained fury as soon as the call ended. The second Agatha dropped her phone on the counter, Rio exploded.

“That woman is fucking deranged,” she said, her voice sharp enough to cut through glass. “Does she always talk to you like that? Or was that her being nice?”

Agatha flinched, caught off guard by Rio’s venom. “She’s under a lot of pressure” she said weakly, her own voice shaky.

Rio’s eyebrows shot up, incredulous. “Pressure?” she repeated, her tone laced with disbelief. “You’re the one in the middle of a public execution, Agatha! You are the one with your name plastered in that article. You are the one fighting to hold onto your career, and she’s yelling at you like it’s your fault? What the fuck is wrong with her?”

“Rio, stop” Agatha said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“No, I won’t stop,” Rio snapped, stepping closer to her. “Do you hear yourself right now? You’re defending her. The woman who just treated you like you’re disposable. Like you’re nothing. Do you even realize how fucked up that is?”

Agatha’s lips trembled, her hands shaking as she pressed them flat against the counter to steady herself. “You don’t understand” she muttered.

“Then explain it to me!” Rio shot back, her voice rising. “Explain to me how it’s okay for her to berate you, to blame you, when you’re the one cleaning up her goddamn mess. She doesn’t care about you, Agatha—she cares about her image. And if throwing you to the wolves protects that, she’ll do it in a heartbeat. You know I’m right.”

Agatha’s tears finally spilled over, and she shook her head, her voice breaking as she shouted, “She’s still my mother, Rio!”

Rio’s face softened, but the anger in her eyes didn’t fade. “No,” she said, her voice quieter but no less fierce. “She’s a tyrant. She’s a fucking dictator wearing a Chanel suit, and she’s been controlling you your entire life. And you—” Her voice cracked slightly as she pointed a finger at Agatha. “You’ve been letting her.”

Agatha staggered back, as if Rio’s words had physically struck her. She wrapped her arms around herself, shaking her head furiously. “You don’t know what it’s like,” she whispered. “You don’t know the kind of power she has. The things she can do.”

Rio stepped forward, her voice trembling with protective rage. “Then let her fucking try” she growled. “Because if she so much as thinks about laying another finger on you—metaphorically or otherwise—I will-.”

Agatha blinked, stunned. “Rio, don’t—”

“I mean it” Rio interrupted, her voice unwavering. “I don’t care who she is. I don’t care how much power she has. She can send her lawyers, her hitmen, her whole damn powerfull friends after me if she wants. But if she keeps pushing you like this, if she even thinks about coming for you, I will make her regret it. I’ll tear her entire empire apart brick by brick.”

Agatha’s chest heaved, her breaths shallow as the weight of Rio’s words sank in. She felt exposed, raw, and utterly vulnerable. “Why are you doing this?” she asked, her voice trembling.

Rio’s expression softened, though her jaw was still tight with anger. “Because someone needs to fucking protect you, Agatha. And if no one else will, I will.”

"You can't-" Agatha started.

"Oh, I sure can." Rio intercepted.

“You don’t know what you’re getting into” Agatha responded, her voice a soft plea.

Rio leaned closer, her voice dropping even lower, the fire in her eyes burning steady “Don’t underestimate me, Agatha. I’ve fought battles you don’t even know exist. Your mother might be a queen in her castle, but even queens can lose their crowns" she carefully wipes a hair from Agatha's face "When they forget there’s a board full of other players.”

Agatha shivered, unsure whether it was from the raw emotion coursing through her or the way Rio’s words seemed to crack open a door she’d long thought sealed shut.

Desire.

Chapter Text

Monday.

The soft click of heels against the marble floors echoed through the halls, a rhythmic reminder to keep moving, keep steady, keep upright. Agatha Harkness was many things this morning—exhausted, frustrated, and undeniably angry—but weak wasn’t one of them.

The Capitol was its own kind of battlefield, and as a congresswoman, she’d learned to navigate its treacherous terrain with precision. Even now, with the weight of that damn article pressing on her chest like a stone, she couldn’t let it show. Not here. Not to these people.

Jen, had already handed her a stack of briefing papers the moment she stepped into the office. No words of comfort, no acknowledgment of the swirling scandal. Just the cold, hard facts of the day ahead. Agatha appreciated it, in a way. The work gave her something to focus on, something to control.

But as she sat at her desk, poring over the details of a proposed infrastructure bill, her mind betrayed her. Flashes of the article’s title—Suicide or Silencing? Congresswoman Harkness and Her Rise to Power—kept creeping into her thoughts, distracting her.

The timing was deliberate. The contents? Calculated. This wasn’t just a smear campaign; it was a coordinated attack meant to destabilize her.

Her phone buzzed, pulling her from her thoughts. It was another email from Lilia, curt and pointed:

Congresswoman, we need to discuss this. You can’t afford for your allies to question your integrity.

She resisted the urge to throw the phone across the room. Instead, she inhaled deeply, squared her shoulders, and got back to the bill in front of her.

There was a knock at her door. Jen stepped in, her expression tight. “You’re due in committee in ten minutes. They’re discussing the housing reform package.”

“Right” Agatha said, standing and smoothing down her blazer. The act of rising felt symbolic, as though by physically getting up, she could leave the chaos behind.

As she walked toward the committee chamber, she caught snippets of conversations in the hallways. Words like “scandal,” “Warren,” and “suicide” drifted toward her like daggers.

She clenched her jaw and kept walking.

Because that’s what it meant to be a Harkness. You didn’t stumble. You didn’t falter. You didn’t let the wolves see you bleed.

The day went by in a rush. Agatha went to work like she wasn't even there - her mind somewhere else. 

The article.

Warren.

Evanora.

Rio.

Anything - but work. 

**

By the time she got out of the Capitol, she reminded herself of the night she still had ahead. Agatha would have to attend an art gallery, an event in which she had already confirmed her presence more than a month ago. There was no way to unschedule. I mean, she could come up with some lame excuse. But this would upset the organizers - and even more the guests, who expected the presence of the congresswoman.Once again, her presence was expected - just for the show off. For the mere spectacle. For the mere maintenance of her own image.

She sighed.

Agatha went home, changed her clothes and called Ralph.

"I'm ready" Agatha said, her voice tired.

"Yes m'am. Be there in ten." Ralph responded.

The car ride was quick. But Agatha couldn't help but let her head get lost in thoughts, generating growing anxiety until the moment Ralph opened the car door for her.
The very second her body came into contact with the heavy air of the street, she shifted. Agatha put her concerns in a separate box – a technique she had perfected over the years.

Her posture quickly became solid, straightening her back as she got out of the car. It was almost instantaneous, the amount of flashes that were shot in her face.

Photos for the headlines of the next few days, she thought.

**

Rio's POV

The gallery smelled like varnish and money, the kind of place where people whispered to each other not because they had secrets, but because it was part of the performance. Rio hated it. She’d been scanning the crowd for half an hour, looking for anything—or anyone—out of place.

Rio had not been forced to come to this event, however, she thought it best to attend, if only to show moral support for the fact that Agatha had to endure that night, after all the scandal that surrounded her.

The event was a showcase for the city’s art community, a soft push for cultural funding to bolster Agatha’s platform. Rio understood the optics; these were the kinds of events where money whispered before it turned into donations. But it still grated on her nerves. Too many people, too many faces, too many shadows for someone to hide in.

She caught Agatha’s eye across the room, and for a moment, the tension in her chest eased. Just a little. Agatha gave her a look—not a smile, but a silent question: Are you good?

Rio nodded. She wasn’t, not really. But she’d fake it for Agatha.

Then, she saw someone.

It was like the temperature in the room dropped ten degrees.

César.

Rio’s body went rigid, her pulse hammering in her ears. He wasn’t supposed to be here. This wasn’t his world—too public, too exposed—but there he was, standing at the edge of the crowd like a predator assessing its prey.

He hadn’t changed much. The same sharp suit, the same calculated stillness, the same air of quiet menace that made him blend into the background while commanding attention all the same.

She clenched her jaw, forcing herself to stay calm. She couldn’t lose it here. Not in front of Agatha.

But César wasn’t here for her.

His eyes swept the room lazily, and for a moment, they landed on Agatha. A flicker of something crossed his face—amusement? Curiosity? It made Rio’s stomach churn.

No. Not her. You don’t get to touch her.

“Who is that?” Agatha’s voice pulled her back to reality as she got close. She must’ve followed Rio’s gaze.

Rio shook her head, her voice tight. “No one, nevermind”

But her words did nothing to stop Agatha from frowning, suspicion flickering in her eyes. Rio didn’t have time to explain. She was already moving, weaving through the crowd toward him.

He saw her coming. Of course he did.

And then, he was gone.

Just like that. One second, he was there, lingering like a bad memory, and the next, he’d melted into the shadows - like the shadowman he was.

Rio stopped where he had been standing, her hands clenched into fists at her sides. The urge to run after him, to pull him into the light and demand answers, burned hot in her chest. But she couldn’t leave Agatha. Not now.

She turned back, forcing herself to walk slowly even though every nerve in her body screamed at her to move.

When she reached Agatha, she felt the weight of her gaze, the sharpness of her questions before she even spoke. “Who was that?” Agatha asked again, her voice softer now but no less insistent.

Rio hesitated. For a moment, she considered telling her everything, laying it all bare. But then she saw the weariness in Agatha’s eyes, the cracks she was working so hard to keep hidden, and she couldn’t do it. Not yet.

“No one you need to worry about. Not tonight,” Rio said, her voice steadier than she felt.

Agatha raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “Not tonight? Rio, who—”

“Later” Rio cut her off, sharper than she meant to.

The look Agatha gave her was a mix of frustration and suspicion, but she let it drop. For now.

As Agatha turned back to the room, Rio’s mind raced. César hadn’t been there for her, and that terrified her more than anything. Because if he wasn’t there for her, he was there for Agatha.

And César never showed up anywhere without a purpose.

The sight of him dragged her into a memory she’d tried to bury deep, one she had no intention of revisiting. But memories had a way of clawing to the surface when you least wanted them to.

**

Flashback: 7 years ago

It was raining the night Rio confronted her father, the kind of relentless downpour that drowned the city in cold, unyielding shadows. She stood in the cavernous study of the Vidal estate, where the walls were lined with leather-bound books no one had ever read. César Vidal sat behind his massive mahogany desk, the soft glow of a green-shaded banker’s lamp casting eerie shadows across his face.

“Why?” Rio demanded, her voice trembling with a mix of fury and despair. “Why did you do it?!”

César looked up from a dossier he’d been leafing through, his expression cool and detached. “You’ll have to be more specific, mija. I do a lot of things.”

“Elena!” Rio snapped, slamming her hands on the desk. “You ruined her life. You tore her family apart, and for what? So some senator could keep his seat? So you could collect another favor?”

César’s lips curled into a faint, condescending smile. He leaned back in his chair, swirling the whiskey in his crystal tumbler. “It was necessary. The senator’s bill was important to my client, and Elena—Well, collateral damage.”

“She was deported” Rio spat. “Her family—”

“Her family” César interrupted, his voice icy, “has nothing to do with this. And she is being your weakness. And weaknesses, mija, get exploited. You of all people should understand that.”

Rio’s hands balled into fists at her sides. “You could have stopped it. You could have—”

“I did what needed to be done,” César said, cutting her off. “You think I enjoy this? You think I take pleasure in watching you sulk in my study, pretending you’re better than me? Grow up, Rio. This is how power works. You don’t save everyone. You pick the battles that matter.”

Rio’s voice cracked as she stepped closer to the desk. “She mattered to me!”

For a moment, César’s expression faltered. Something unreadable flickered in his eyes, but it vanished as quickly as it came. “Then you were a fool” he said coldly. “You knew what I am, what I do. You thought you could have both? Me and your precious play toys?” He leaned forward, his voice lowering to a venomous whisper. “You’re just like me, mija. No matter how hard you fight it, no matter how much you hate it. You’ll always come back to power. It’s in your blood.”

The words struck like a blow, but Rio refused to let him see her falter. “I’m nothing like you,” she said, her voice steady. “And I’m done pretending I ever was.”

She turned on her heel, heading for the door, but César’s voice followed her, low and dangerous. “You can walk away from me, but you can’t walk away from the truth, Rio. The world doesn’t care about your principles. You’ll see. One day, you’ll see.”

**

Rio shaked her head as the memory faded, leaving her standing in the gallery with the taste of bile at the back of her throat. She could still hear César’s voice, the sneer in his words as he dismissed her humanity like it was an afterthought.

One day, you’ll see.

She had seen. She’d seen what people like César Vidal and Evanora Harkness could do to those who dared to step out of line. She’d seen it destroy Elena, dismantling her dreams and sending her spiraling out of Rio’s life. She’d seen it nearly destroy herself.

But she had rebuilt, piece by piece, with grit and strategy. And now, the same tactics César had used to tear people apart were hers to wield.

César’s words, venomous and calculated, still echoed like a drumbeat in her chest.

You’ll always come back to power. It’s in your blood.

She sighed, willing the memory away, but it lingered, stubborn as ever.

Elena

Rio hadn’t said her name out loud in years, hadn’t allowed herself to revisit the details of what happened. But the guilt had never left her, festering beneath the surface like an unhealed wound. Elena’s family wasn’t just unlucky victims of a broken system—they had been targeted.

Her family, immigrants who had spent years building a quiet life, had dared to challenge the status quo. Elena’s parents had been community leaders, fiercely dedicated to helping others navigate the treacherous path to legal residency. They ran a small, under-the-radar network offering everything from legal aid to temporary housing for undocumented immigrants, and they did it with no expectation of reward. It was dangerous, selfless work, but it was also a lifeline for so many.

And that, of course, had made them a problem.

When César’s "friend"— Rio doesn't even know how to call it - a powerful senator on the verge of losing his seat, needed a scapegoat to push through his divisive immigration bill, Elena’s family was the perfect target. They were publicly branded as criminals, accused of smuggling and fraud. It didn’t matter that the charges were exaggerated, that the network was helping people, not exploiting them. What mattered was the narrative: a dangerous immigrant “syndicate” dismantled thanks to the senator’s “tough stance on illegal immigration.”

César, with his vast network of influence and his cold efficiency, had ensured it all went off without a hitch. The senator got his bill, bolstered by the publicity of the raid and the deportations, and César collected his favor, having a long-term ally in Washington.

And Elena? She and her family were ripped apart. Deported. Disappeared.

Rio’s chest tightened as she remembered how it all unfolded. The way she’d rushed to Elena’s side when the news broke, desperate to protect her, only to realize how powerless she was. The raid had been swift and brutal, leaving no room for intervention, no time for appeals. Elena had begged Rio for help, her eyes wide with panic, but what could she do? She was just a college student back then, naive enough to believe her father’s power could be wielded for good if only she could convince him.

But César had been immovable. Collateral damage, he’d called it. He hadn’t cared about Elena, her family, or the lives destroyed in the process. All he cared about was the deal, the favor, the leverage.

Rio had tried to stay in touch after the deportation, to offer support from afar. But the last she’d heard, Elena was somewhere in Mexico, struggling to rebuild her life while her younger siblings were stranded in the U.S., placed into the foster system. The pain in her voice during their last phone call had been unbearable. Eventually, Elena stopped answering altogether, and Rio hadn’t blamed her.

She had blamed César.

Now, standing in the present, Rio exhaled sharply, forcing the memory back into the recesses of her mind. She had spent years trying to outrun it, to justify her silence, to convince herself that cutting ties with César was enough. But tonight, seeing him here, seeing his interest in Agatha, had pulled it all back to the surface.

Elena’s life had been a small piece on his chessboard, a pawn sacrificed for the game. And now Rio couldn’t help but wonder... Was Agatha next?

Her jaw tightened. She wouldn’t let that happen. César could manipulate, scheme, and plot all he wanted, but Rio wasn’t that naïve college girl anymore. If he so much as looked at Agatha the wrong way, Rio would make damn sure he regretted it.

Across the room, Agatha moved through the crowd like she belonged there, exchanging polite words and smiles that were as much armor as they were tools. Rio watched her carefully, noting the faint strain in her expression. Agatha was handling the scandal well on the surface, but Rio could see the cracks deepening.

César wasn’t here by chance. He was a surgeon of manipulation, carving paths with precision. Rio knew his presence tonight was deliberate.

She took a deep breath and forced her feet to move, cutting through the sea of finely dressed patrons to reach Agatha. As she drew closer, she schooled her expression into something neutral, something that wouldn’t betray the storm raging inside her.

Agatha turned just as Rio arrived, her brow furrowing. “You look like you’ve seen a ghost,” she said lightly, though the concern was evident in her tone.

“Something like that” Rio replied, her voice measured.

Agatha glanced past her shoulder, scanning the room. “What’s going on?”

Rio hesitated, weighing her words carefully “Let’s just focus on getting through tonight.”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, but she didn’t press. Instead, she nodded, a silent agreement to leave the questions for later.

Eventually, the event began to wind down. The last of the guests made their way toward the exit, and Agatha, who had charmed her way through yet another evening of shallow conversations and forced smiles, made her way toward Rio. She was tired, but it wasn’t the usual kind of fatigue. This was the exhaustion of someone who’d had to bury their own doubts for the sake of maintaining an image. Before she could reach Rio, someone intercepted her. Some random conversation about her run to Senate.

Rio stood there, by the exit. Alice reached her first.

“You okay?” Alice asked, her voice soft but perceptive as she approached Rio, who was standing off to the side, her arms crossed, her gaze scanning the empty room one last time.

Rio nodded, but her eyes betrayed her. 

“I’m fine” Rio said, the words slipping out a little too quickly.

Alice raised an eyebrow, unconvinced. “You sure? You’ve been on edge all night.”

Rio let out a breath, glancing around the room one last time to make sure César wasn’t lurking in the shadows. He was gone, but the ripple of his presence still lingered.

“I’m just...” Rio paused, unsure of how to explain. “There are things I’m dealing with. People I’m trying to keep at bay.”

Alice studied her, her expression softening. “I’m not gonna ask about it. But if you need to talk... you know where to find me.”

“I know” Rio replied quietly, her voice low. “I’m not the one you need to worry about tonight. Focus on what comes next. We are here for the Congresswoman.”

“Alright” Alice said, taking another step back toward the exit. “Let’s get out of here. We’ve both earned a break.”

Rio followed her, but as they stepped into the quiet hallway, Rio’s mind drifted back to the earlier moment when she’d locked eyes with César across the room. The fleeting, cold amusement in his gaze hadn’t been lost on her. She hadn’t been imagining it.

The reality was, César he didn’t need to speak to her to make his presence known. His power didn’t come from words—it came from the way he moved through the world, unseen, in the shadows.

And he had always known how to manipulate those around him. Even now, years after she’d walked away, she could still feel the pull of his influence.

Rio’s thoughts swirled as they walked out into the cool night air. She couldn’t shake the feeling that this night was only the beginning. 

Her hand clenched at her side, her jaw set in determination. César Vidal was a ghost in her past, but Agatha was her present—and she’d do whatever it took to keep her safe from the very forces that had destroyed everything she once believed in.

“Let’s go” Rio said, her voice harder than she intended.

Alice glanced at her, sensing the shift in Rio’s mood but saying nothing. She just nodded and walked beside her into the night, both women carrying their bodies in silence, the weight of the evening and the looming threat hanging over them as they disappeared into the city’s darkness.

** 

The low hum of conversation and the clink of glasses filled the air as Rio stared blankly at the condensation pooling around her untouched drink. Alice leaned back in her seat, her expression a mix of concern and exasperation.

“Okay, seriously, Rio,” Alice said, breaking the silence. “Are you gonna tell me what’s eating you alive, or are we just gonna sit here in broody silence all night?”

Rio dragged a hand down her face, glancing at Alice with a weak attempt at a smirk. “Just tired. Long day.”

Alice arched a skeptical eyebrow, taking a sip of her whiskey. “Bullshit. You’ve been twitchy ever since we walked in here. Spill.”

Before Rio could respond, her phone buzzed on the table. She glanced at the screen, her stomach twisting when she saw Agatha’s name.

Agatha: Are you okay? You stormed out and didn’t even say goodnight.

Rio’s throat tightened. She hadn’t meant to be so abrupt, but César’s appearance had thrown her completely off balance. Her finger hovered over the keyboard for a moment before she typed back.

Rio: I’m fine. Just needed go home.

The reply came almost instantly.

Agatha: “Fine” doesn’t cut it. What happened?

Rio clenched her jaw, her heart hammering as she stared at the screen. She couldn’t tell Agatha the truth—not tonight, not ever, if she could help it.

Rio: It’s nothing. Just drop it.

Alice watched her with a wary look, clearly picking up on the tension radiating from Rio. “Work?” she asked lightly.

Rio shook her head, muttering, “Something like that.”

The phone buzzed again.

Agatha: Drop it? Really? You leave without a word, and I’m supposed to just accept that? What the hell is going on with you, Rio?

Her hands tightened around the phone. She shouldn’t have answered. Agatha’s persistence was unraveling the fragile thread of control she was clinging to. She started typing before she could stop herself.

Rio: You don’t need to worry about me. You’ve got enough on your plate—your mom, Warren, that damn article. I’m fine. Just let it go.

The dots appeared, then disappeared, then reappeared again. Finally, a response came.

Agatha: That’s bullshit, and you know it. You’ve been acting weird all night, and now you’re shutting me out. What’s going on?

Rio’s jaw clenched. Agatha wasn’t going to let this go, and the truth wasn’t something she could just text. Hell, she couldn’t even say it out loud to herself without feeling like the ground was crumbling beneath her feet.

Rio: I can’t do this right now.

The dots blinked back almost immediately.

Agatha: You can’t do what? Talk to me? Trust me?

Her grip on the phone tightened, and she set it down on the table with more force than necessary. Alice’s eyes flicked to the device.

“Agatha?” Alice guessed.

Rio nodded wordlessly, her throat tight.

Alice tilted her head. “You’re pushing her away.”

“I- What?!” Rio asked in disbelief. Did Alice know that they were...?

Alice sighed, leaning forward. “You don’t have to do anything except stop sabotaging yourself. If you’d just—”

Rio cut her off, her voice low and sharp. “Alice, drop it. It's just some work questions, she's on edge.”

The phone buzzed again. Rio hesitated, staring at the screen like it might explode.

Agatha: Whatever this is, Rio, it’s not fair. To either of us.

The words felt like a punch to the gut. Agatha was right. It wasn’t fair, but what choice did she have? How could she drag Agatha into her mess, knowing everything she was already dealing with? Evanora, Warren, that insidious article painting her as a schemer at best and a murderer at worst—Agatha was already drowning.

Rio grabbed her phone and typed one final message.

Rio: You don’t need this. Just focus on what matters.

She hit send before she could second-guess herself and shoved the phone into her pocket.

Alice watched her for a long moment before shaking her head. “You’re such a coward sometimes, you know that?”

Rio exhaled, leaning back in her chair and staring at the ceiling. “Jesus, Alice. Drop it."

But what Alice didn’t understand—what Agatha couldn’t know—was that this wasn’t just about protecting herself. It was about protecting Agatha from the darkness that followed Rio everywhere she went. From César, from the ghosts of her past, from all the things she couldn’t take back.

She was doing the right thing.

....Wasn’t she?

Chapter Text

The streets were empty as Rio approached her apartment. Her footsteps echoed against the pavement, her head low, hands stuffed into the pockets of her jacket. The night with Alice had been a welcome distraction, but it hadn’t dulled the ache in her chest—or the sharp, lingering guilt over her texts with Agatha.

When she turned the corner and saw her building, her stomach tightened. She’d barely taken two steps toward the entrance when a figure emerged from the shadow of a parked car.

Agatha.

Rio stopped cold, her pulse quickening. Agatha was out of the car in seconds, her movements sharp and determined. She wore a long coat, her hair slightly disheveled, her cheeks flushed—whether from the cold or frustration, Rio couldn’t tell.

“Agatha” Rio said, her voice low, cautious.

“You’ve been avoiding me” Agatha snapped, her tone cutting through the quiet like a whip.

Rio glanced around, noting the empty street but still acutely aware of how exposed they were. “Get inside,” she said, her voice firm but quiet. “We’ll talk there.”

Agatha hesitated, her eyes narrowing. “I’ve been sitting out here for an hour. You’ve got some nerve trying to call the shots now.”

Rio sighed, pinching the bridge of her nose. “Agatha, please. You’re attracting attention. Just get inside.”

After a tense moment, Agatha relented, brushing past Rio toward the entrance. Rio followed, unlocking the door and leading her up the stairs to her apartment. The silence between them was thick, charged with unspoken words.

Once inside, Rio flicked on the light, revealing the sparse, utilitarian space. Agatha didn’t bother to take off her coat, she stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed, her eyes fixed on Rio.

“Start talking” Agatha demanded.

Rio locked the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment before crossing the room to stand a few feet from Agatha. She shoved her hands back into her jacket pockets, her posture defensive.

“There’s nothing to say” Rio said evenly.

“Bullshit” Agatha shot back, stepping closer. “You’ve been acting off all night. You leave the event without a word, you text me some cryptic nonsense, and now you expect me to just—what?—let it go? Tell me what’s going on, Rio.”

Rio’s jaw tightened. “I told you, it’s nothing. You’re overthinking it.”

“Don’t you dare gaslight me” Agatha hissed, her voice low but venomous. She stepped even closer, her eyes blazing. “ I know you’re not telling me something. And whatever this is, it’s eating you alive. So cut the crap and tell me the truth.”

Rio’s gaze flicked away, her lips pressing into a thin line. She felt the heat of Agatha’s presence, her frustration and hurt radiating off her in waves. She wanted to tell her, wanted to unload the truth, but the thought of dragging Agatha into her mess made her stomach churn.

“Agatha” Rio said, her voice softer now, almost pleading. “Drop it. Please.”

Agatha’s eyes searched Rio’s face, her expression a mix of anger and desperation. “You’re shutting me out,” she said, her voice cracking. “Why? What are you so afraid of?”

Rio’s throat tightened, her fists clenching in her pockets. “It’s not about fear” she said finally, her tone low and measured. 

Agatha blinked, her brows furrowing. “Then what's it about?!”

Rio didn’t answer. She turned away, running a hand through her hair, her movements restless. Agatha watched her, her frustration mounting.

“Damn it, Rio!” Agatha snapped, grabbing her arm and spinning her back around. “Stop - Stop shutting me out.”

The touch burned, a mix of comfort and pain that made Rio’s defenses waver for a split second. She looked at Agatha, really looked at her—the determination in her eyes, the raw vulnerability etched into her features. It made Rio want to crumble, to let it all out. But she couldn’t.

She gently pulled her arm free. “You don’t need my shit on top of everything else you’re dealing with,” Rio said quietly. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”

Agatha shook her head, stepping closer. “Don’t do that” she said, her voice firm but laced with emotion. “Don’t make this about me. This is about you. Something happened tonight, and you’re carrying it alone because you think that’s what you’re supposed to do. But it’s not. Let me in, Rio.”

Rio’s chest ached at the plea in Agatha’s voice. She took a step back, putting distance between them, her hands coming up as if to shield herself. “I can’t” she said, her voice barely above a whisper. “Not this. Not now.”

Agatha’s shoulders slumped, the fight in her eyes dimming but not disappearing. She let out a shaky breath, her hands dropping to her sides. “I don’t understand you,” she said softly. “You’re always there for me, always carrying my weight, but you won’t let me carry yours. Why? Do you not trust me?”

Rio’s head snapped up, her eyes locking with Agatha’s. “It’s not about trust,” she said firmly. “It’s about keeping you from getting hurt.”

Agatha’s expression softened, but her frustration lingered. She stepped forward again, closing the distance Rio had created, and placed a hand on Rio’s chest, right over her heart. “You don’t get to decide what I can or can’t handle” she said, her voice steady and calm now. “I've been to hell and back.”

The touch sent a jolt through Rio, breaking through her walls in a way words never could. For a moment, she let herself lean into it, closing her eyes and taking a steadying breath. But then the weight of everything came crashing back, and she stepped back, breaking the contact.

“I need you to trust me on this” Rio said, her voice firm again. “I’ll tell you when I can. Just… not tonight.”

Agatha stared at her, her eyes searching Rio’s face for something, anything, that might give her a reason to believe her. Finally, she nodded, though her expression was tight with unresolved tension. “Fine” she said. “But this isn’t over.”

Rio offered a faint, weary smile. “It never is.”

Agatha lingered for a moment longer before turning toward the door. As she reached for the handle, she paused, looking back at Rio.

"You want to push me?" Rio whispered harshly, pulling back just enough to look clearly at her. "Fine. Let’s see how far you can go."

Agatha’s eyes flashed, a challenge sparking in their depths. "I don’t scare easily, Rio."

"That’s your problem" Rio growled, her hands sliding down to Agatha’s hips before gripping tightly and lifting her effortlessly. Agatha let out a startled gasp as her back hit the wall again, harder this time, her legs instinctively wrapping around Rio’s waist.

Their bodies pressed together, every point of contact igniting something volatile between them. Agatha’s fingers were relentless, pulling at Rio’s hair, tracing the sharp lines of her jaw, her nails grazing over the column of her throat. Each touch seemed designed to provoke, to demand a reaction.

"Is this what you want?" Rio asked, her voice low and taunting, her lips brushing along Agatha’s jaw, down her neck, leaving a trail of heat in their wake.

Agatha tilted her head back, exposing more of her neck, her breath hitching as Rio’s teeth grazed the sensitive skin just beneath her ear. "What I really wanted was for you to tell me the truth. If you wont- Stop asking questions and figure out what else I want" Agatha managed, her tone sharp but laced with need.

Rio’s grip tightened on her hips, her fingers digging into the soft fabric of her dress as her frustration boiled over into something primal. She kissed Agatha again, this time slower, deeper, as though she could strip her defenses away layer by layer.

But Agatha wasn’t one to surrender easily. Her hands slipped under the edge of Rio’s shirt, nails dragging along her skin in a way that made Rio hiss against her lips. "You think you’re in control" Agatha murmured, her voice heavy with defiance, "but you’re not."

Rio pulled back, her eyes locking onto Agatha’s with an intensity that stole the air from the room. "No? Then tell me why you’re shaking," she said, her voice almost a growl.

Agatha’s lips parted as if to argue, but no words came out. Instead, she grabbed the collar of Rio’s shirt, yanking her back in with a force that matched the storm brewing between them.

The kiss deepened, every ounce of anger and frustration spilling into it, the line between their conflict and their desire dissolving entirely. Agatha’s hands roamed with purpose now, sliding over Rio’s back, under her shirt, tracing every muscle with a deliberate slowness that made Rio’s breath hitch.

"Is this enough for you? Or are you pushing the limits today?" Rio asked, her voice rough, her forehead pressing against Agatha’s again as she caught her breath.

"Not even close" Agatha replied, her voice trembling slightly, though whether from anger or desire, it was impossible to tell.

Rio smirked, her lips brushing over Agatha’s ear. "Then I guess we’re not done."

Their collision of rage and lust felt endless, an unrelenting push and pull where neither would give an inch. The room seemed smaller, the air hotter, as they lost themselves in the storm of each other.

And for a moment, the world outside—the secrets, the scandals, the lies—ceased to exist. It was just them, tangled in a battle neither could win and neither wanted to end.

Rio’s hands roamed, slipping under Agatha’s blouse, her fingers brushing against soft, warm skin. Agatha gasped, her head falling back, her body trembling with the intensity of it all.

“Tell me to stop” Rio whispered against her throat, her voice barely audible over their shared breaths. “Tell me to stop, and I will.”

Agatha’s nails dug into Rio’s shoulders, her voice a shaky plea. “Don’t you dare.”

"But, Agatha, are you...like, ready to take it further?" Rio asked, her voice soft.

"I dont know. But I want to. You have no idea - God- how many times my mind roams back to that night... You, touching yourself, just- Just for me." Agatha responded, almost breathless. 

"I seem to recall your hand also slipping inside your pants" Rio smirked. 

"Well I- What else was I supposed to do? You have any idea how - how wet I was?" Agatha answered, with a shy tone.

Rio kissed her neck, slowly. "So, what about now? How wet are you?" She asked agaisnt her skin. Her breath making Agatha shiver.

Just the mere question made Agatha more aware of the warmth growing between her legs. She brushed herself lightly against Rio's waist, letting out a slight moan—which echoed in Rio's ears. "I think- Hmmm" she kept riding "I think... Very."

"You wanna play a game?" Rio asked, giving her a mischief look.

Agatha felt as if her breathing had stopped altogether. Rio's legs were between hers, and Agatha felt her body respond to even the slightest pressure there. She wanted to thrust her hips forward, arch her back, even bite the delicate freckled ear that now almost brushed her lips. Instead, she held herself very still, wrists locked in Rio's neck.  

"What kind of... game?"

"The kind where we loosen your limits" Rio whispered in her ear.

Her whisper assaulted Agatha in such a way that the legs that were wrapped around Rio's waist lost strength - letting them fall back to their normal position. The fact that Agatha was still wearing a dress only helped Rio feel - once again- the fabric of her panties rubbing against her pants. When she looked down, she noticed a wet spot on her leg. She smirked.

"Come here" Rio said, extending her hand as she took one step back.
Agatha took it, letting Rio guide her to the couch. Oh, that couch.

"What are you-" Agatha asked, after she saw Rio leave her alone in the room after guiding her to the sofa.

"Patience, Congresswoman." Rio shot from a distance.

Agatha heard Rio opening some drawers in her room, as if she was looking for something. Shortly after, she returned, a black blindfold in her hand.

Agatha arched her brow, like she was looking for answers. 

"Stand up" Rio commanded. She did. 

"Turn around" And she did. Leaving her back to Rio. 

"This will help you connect with my touch" Rio said, as she placed the blindfold over Agatha's eyes, "you don't have to see reality, just- feel it" she tightened the blindfold.

Agatha swallowed hard, as if she was bracing herself. She had never done anything like this. She had never let herself be at someone's mercy. But she didn't say a word.

"Last time you said you wanted to be someone else." Rio ran her fingers over her shoulder, sending shivers down her spine. "This time, you don't have to be anyone at all." Her hand settled on the back of Agatha's neck. 

Rio grabbed her hair and pulled her head back slightly. She pressed a wet—and hot—kiss to her neck. Making Agatha breathe louder.

Her left hand -still free- made its way to Agatha's breast. First, lightly squeezing her waist and then, making it's way up. With that, while her hand rested in Agatha's breast, Rio pressed her front against her back. The heat? Unbearable.

"I want you to focus on all the little sensations" Rio said, as she began to lightly draw circles on Agatha's nipple over her clothing.
Of course, Agatha wasn't wearing a bra.

Agatha let her head rest on Rio's shoulder as she felt the movements getting faster and faster. "Rio..."

"Do you feel it?" she squeezed Agatha's nipple carefully. Then she pulled the tip. 

"Hmmm. Yes, Rio. I feel it." Agatha could feel her nipples getting stiff with each touch. She arched her back more in a silent plea.

"Very good." Agatha felt Rio's hand moving from its position. The heat from Rio's front moving away from her back.

"Rio?" she asked, unware of Rio's next move. She was blindfolded after all.

Rio slowly moves closer to Agatha again, her breath hot on her neck. "Are you ready for this?" she whispers, a hint of vulnerability in her voice.

Agatha nods, her heart beating faster with anticipation. "Yes," she replies softly.

Rio gently moves behind her, placing a tender kiss on the back of her neck. She slowly zips down Agatha's dress, her hands slowly trailing down her back. Agatha shivers with anticipation as the dress falls to the floor, leaving her exposed and vulnerable.

Rio gently wraps her arms around Agatha's waist, pulling her close - she’s eager to feel her skin. Agatha's body reacts to the intimacy, and she lets out a small sigh of pleasure. Rio starts to touch her slowly, her hands moving up and down her body, feeling every contour and curve. She runs her fingers gently over her sensitive skin, sending shivers down her spine. Agatha leans back against her, closing her eyes under the blindfold, her breath quickening.

Rio leans in, her lips brushing against Agatha's ear. "You look so beautiful like this" she whispers, her voice low and husky. "So vulnerable” She runs her hands down Agatha's sides, tracing slow circles over her stomach. 

“Hmmm, only physically.” Agatha responds as she squirms around Rio’s touch.

"And mentally?" Rio continues to move her hands slowly over Agatha's body, teasing and touching the side of her breasts - never fully touching her where she wants to.

She then slowly moves behind Agatha, her body still pressed up against hers. She gently runs her hands down Agatha's back, feeling the softness of her skin. She leans in, pressing a delicate kiss on the small of her back. Then, she starts to leave a trail of kisses on her back. When she finally reaches the end of her back, Rio kneels down, places her hands at Agatha’s sides and gently bites down on her ass, leaving a small mark. Agatha gasps in a mix of pleasure and surprise. 

“Rio…”

The feeling of Rio's teeth and lips is intense, and she leans back into Rio for more. 

"You like that?" Rio says softly, running her tongue over the bite mark.

“Yes…” Agatha responds - almost shy. 

As Rio stands back up, she gently turns Agatha around to face her. She runs her fingers along the contours of her face, tracing over her parted lips.

Agatha's breathing quickens as she leans in, desperate for Rio's touch. Their lips meet in a slow, sensual kiss, and Agatha moans softly against her mouth.

Rio's hand moves to Agatha's waist, pulling her closer, her fingers digging into her skin.

As their kiss deepens, Agatha's body responds eagerly to Rio's touch. Her heart beats fast, and she can feel the heat building between her legs. She presses closer to Rio, and she can feel the warmth of her body through their clothes. Rio can almost feel the deepness of Agatha's desire, and she wants nothing more than to take her right then and there. She pulls away, looking into Agatha's blindfolded eyes. She smirks.

Rio moves her lips down to Agatha's neck, teasing the sensitive skin with kisses and gentle nibbles. Agatha lets out a small gasp of pleasure as Rio's tongue moves over herPulse points. She moves her lips down further, kissing and licking at the skin below her jawline as she moves her hands to the small of her body, moving up to cup one of her breasts. She pauses there for a moment, enjoying the feel of Agatha's body.

She traces circles with her tongue on her nipple.

“Hmmm” Agatha moans. 

“Tell me what you want, Agatha.” Rio whispers against her breasts. 

“I- hmmmm” Rio keeps tracing circles with her tongue “I you t-to... suck on them” Rio smiles, pleased.

Rio takes a moment to pause. Then, placing her mouth where she’s commanded to - letting out a low moan as she does. The sound reverberates trough Agatha’s skin and sends shivers down Agatha's spine, and she lets out a soft moan of her own. She can feel Rio's lips and tongue on her, and the sensation is intense. She reaches out her hand, running her fingers through Rio's hair.

Rio leaves her right nipple with a “pop” sound. But, before traveling to the other, she licks the top of it, carefully.

She then traces her way to her left breast. Leaving her right hand to play with the other one. 

She sucks like her life depends on it. Her right hand pinching her other nipple and rolling it, while her mouth gathers saliva from sucking so hard.

"Are you enjoying this?" Rio whispers, her breath hot against Agatha's skin.

Agatha nods, unable to speak, as the pleasure of Rio's touch takes over.

"Good," Rio responds, "because I'm just getting started" She moves her mouth lower, her tongue tracing a path down Agatha's body. 

Rio stops at her waistline, dropping wet warm kisses on her waist.

Rio stands up, looking at Agatha with a hungry look in her eyes.  She places her hands on Agatha’s shoulders and slowly leads her to the couch, making her sit there.

"Stay right there" she says, her voice low and commanding. 

She starts to slowly remove her own clothes, keeping her eyes fixed on Agatha's blindfolded ones. And then, almost teasingly, she moves closer, straddling her lap and sitting on top of her.

Agatha's breath catches as Rio straddles her, her body reacting to the closeness. She can feel Rio’s skin on hers. She can notice that Rio is wearing nothing more than underwear. She reaches out her hands, her fingers trailing over Rio's skin, feeling the heat of her body. Even with the blindfold on, she can feel the weight and warmth of Rio on top of her. Her heart beats fast, anticipation coursing through her veins. Her cunt clenches around nothing - just by feeling of Rio so close.

"I want-" she says, her voice a mix of desire and vulnerability. "I want you so badly." She runs her hands up Rio's sides, feeling the softness of her body and the muscles beneath. "Please don’t-“ she breathes  “don't stop."

"I won't" Rio whispers, her breath hitching. 
She takes hold of Agatha's hands, guiding them to her breasts. "I want you to feel me." She runs Agatha's hands over her body, letting her touch and feel everything. "Does it feel good?"

“It does” Agatha breathes out. 

Rio guides her hands to massage her breasts. She squeezes over Agatha's hands. She shivers at the touch of Agatha's hands on her body. She closes her eyes for a moment, leaning into the touch.

Rio's hands move, guiding her touch along her body. She teaches her  how to pinch her nipples, squeezing softly over her fingertips. "Yes, just like  that" she says softly, moving her lips close to her ear. 

"Do you feel that?" she whispers, just has she can feel her nipples hardening - Agatha's fingers move faster. "Do you know how much this drives me crazy?"

Agatha moans softly as her fingers move over Rio's body, feeling the warmth of her skin and the way her body responds to her touch. "Rio" she whispers, her voice trembling with desire. 

Her hands move over her curves, tracing a path over her waist and up her sides. She wants more, she needs more.

Rio's breath hitches as Agatha's words -her saying her name- only adds to the pleasure she's feeling. She moves closer, pressing her body against Agatha's- a little more close to her waist then her cunt - letting her know how wet she is by pressing herself against her skin.

"Agatha" she whispers, her voice trembling with desire. "Can you feel it?" As she talks, she begins to slowly grind against her, sending waves of pleasure through her whole body.

Agatha gasps as she feels Rio grind against her, her legs trembling with pleasure. She can feel the heat of her, the wetness pressing against her. "Rio" she moans, her voice low and shaking. "Fuck…Yes." Her hands move to Rio's waist, pulling her closer, trying to create more friction.

"Are you ready to-" Rio grinds more "Oh, fuck. - to let yourself get pulled back into reality?" She asks while she moves on top on Agatha.

Agatha seems lost in thought. She can only focus on Rio grinding on top of her. She can feel her panties dripping. She's sure Rio can feel it too, even trough her own underwear.

Rio's lips move to Agatha's ear, her breath hot against her skin. "Are you ready to see me, Congresswoman?" As she speaks her movements grow slower and deliberate, designed to tease and build anticipation. She is enjoying this, the power she holds over Agatha, her words and touch driving her wild.

Agatha's body is on fire, her nerves tingling with pleasure. Every movement of Rio against her sends waves of pleasure through her body, building the desire that burns inside of her. She can feel her breath quicken and her heart beat faster, the blindfolded darkness only intensifying her senses. "Yes" she whispers, "Fuck... Rio. Take it off."

"Soon, then." Rio's hand moves down between them - while pushing herself a bit back in Agatha's lap- the movement slow and deliberate. She tugs on the fabric of her panties, pulling them aside. Her fingers move to Agatha's wet folds, caressing over her lips. 

She teases. She can feel Agatha's cum all over her fingertips. She moves her index finger up and down. 

Agatha moans softly as Rio's fingers glide over her cunt, her body responding to the lightest touch. "Please" she whispers, her voice shaking with anticipation. "Rio, please." She wants more, she needs more. Her body aches for her touch, every little brush of her fingertips sending heat through her, building the desire she feels.

"Shhh. Just feel me" Rio trails her fingers over Agatha's cunt until she reaches a particularly sensitive spot, she draws circles in her clit- making Agatha moan louder and move her hips against her touch. She moves her hand lower, sliding her fingers between her folds. Agatha's body shudders, her whole body responds to her touch. She bites her lip, her breath coming in short gasps, her legs spreading wider to make more room for her.

"I- I need you inside" Agatha lets out a moan as she pleads "Hmmm. Rio- Please"

"Not yet" Rio's movements grow faster. She reaches for Agatha's jaw with her left hand. Agatha gasps.

Rio pulls her face up towards hers, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. She can feel her moan against her mouth, and she can taste the desire on her lips. The kiss grows hotter, their tongues touching, their breath mingling. The desire between them is electric, and Rio now knows Agatha wants this just as much as she does.

Rio kisses her again and again, their tongues entwined, and then slowly withdraws, making her way down Agatha's body. She gets up and Agatha complains.

Rio takes the back of the blindfold and undoes the knot she had tied. Dropping the blindfold into Agatha's lap.

She takes a step back. Agatha seems shy.

Rio decides to give her time do adjust. She moves down to her knees, her hands moving to rest on Agatha's thighs, her touch sending chills.

"Agatha" she whispers, her voice low and rough.

Agatha feels vulnerable and exposed without the blindfold, the intimacy of the moment overwhelming. She slowly looks down at her soaked panties, her body trembling with arousal. Her breath catches in her mouth, and she can feel her face heating up in a mixture of embarrassment and desire. She looks at Rio, her eyes meeting her eyes, and her heart beats faster. "Don't look," she whispers, her voice shaking.

"Why?" Rio teases, her hands moving up Agatha's thighs. "Don't you want me to look?" She moves a finger to run over the wet spot on her panties. She can see Agatha's blush deepen in the faint light. "I want to see all of you," she whispers. "There's no need to be shy. I want to look at you."

"I- I'm not used to being seen like this." Agatha turns her face away from Rio's sight, still on her knees. 

"Relax" Rio responds as her fingers keep tracing over the wet spot on Agatha's panties. "Let me take care of you." She leans in, kissing her inner thighs, "I want to see you, and I want to make you feel good."

Rio keeps kissing her inner thigh, her lips moving closer to the wet spot, but never quite touching her where she wants it. She moves her hands up to trace the edges of her panties, so close, but not quite touching.

Rio presses her lips softly, so softly, to the material of her panties. She wants to taste her, but she wants to hear Agatha ask for it. "Tell me, Agatha" she whispers again, her lips moving over the wet cotton. "Tell me what need me to do."

Agatha could not bring herself to respond. Her back arches like she's searching to bring Rio's mouth closer to her core.

"Do you want me to taste you?" Rio whispers, her lips moving over the wet fabric, her breath hot against Agatha's sensitive skin. She can feel the heat coming from her and she wants to feel her, to taste her. 

Agatha can't take any more of this teasing. Leaving her shyness away, she bites her lip as she responds, her voice low and husky. "Yes" she says softly. "Lick me, Rio. Taste me."

She reaches a hand down, pulling her panties to the side to give Rio access. "Do it. Please."

Rio lets out a soft moan of pleasure as she finally gets what she wants. She leans in closer, her tongue teasing over her, drawing a soft moan from Agatha's lips. Her hands hold onto her thighs, fingers digging into her skin. She can feel how wet and ready Agatha is, and she wants more.

She traces her tongue over her clit. Agatha is still holding her panties to the side. Rio's face slighty brushes against her hand.

Not satisfied, Rio traces a line down and up over her entrance. Tasting her cum fully.

"Hmmmmm" she moans, mouth pressed to Agatha's cunt.

Rio starts slowly, her tongue moving over her cunt with a gentle touch. She licks and kisses her, her technique deliberate. She wants to savor this moment, to make it last as long as possible. She can feel Agatha's body trembling under her touch, and she feels her breathing quicken.

"Fuck, Rio. Yes..." Agatha moans.

Her tongue moves faster now, alternating between soft licks and gentle sucks. She can feel Agatha's cunt react, releasing more and more fluid as she does. She wants to bring her over the edge, to make her lose control, but she's also enjoying this, the power she has over her. She continues her movements, knowing that, eventually, she will push her to her climax.

Agatha moans, her words a breathy whisper. "Rio" she gasps, her body responding to her touch. "Rio, please. Keep going." She reaches down, her hand sliding into Rio's hair, as if to ground herself.

Rio feels Agatha's pull in her hair. She lets herself be guided by her grip, landing her lips on her clit. She sucks. First, gently. Then, hard. 

She can feel her saliva growing while she does it. She can feel the swelling in Agatha's clit. 

Agatha, still with one hand in her hair and the other in her panties, pulling them to the side, begins to move her hips, as if pressing her own cunt into Rio's face. She looks like she's struggling.

Rio senses it and pulls away, and, in one swift motion, pulls off Agatha's panties, tossing them aside. She looks up, her eyes meeting Agatha's, a smirk on her lips. "Is that better?" she asks, a hint of a challenge in her voice.

"Much better" Agatha whispers, her voice a mix of desire and anticipation. Her legs come up, wrapping around Rio's neck, pulling her closer. She wants to feel her, to feel anything but this delicious, torturous anticipation. "Come back," she whispers, pleading.

Rio smirks, loving the effect she's having on Agatha. She leans back down, letting herself be pulled by Agatha's legs, her hands moving to rest on her thighs. The look in her eyes is almost predatory, and she wants nothing more but to tease her. "Tell me again," she says, her lips almost touching her core "Tell me how much you want it."

"I want it, Rio" Agatha says, her voice trembling with desire. Her hands move to grip the couch, her legs opening wider, still kind of strangling Rio "I want it so bad.." She looks down at Rio, her eyes half-lidded, her breath quickening. "I- I need you."

"Beg for it" Rio responds, a challenge in her voice. She moves a teasing finger to trace over her wet lips, but doesn't touch her where she really wants it. She opens her folds and massages them "Beg me."

"I need you" Agatha gasps, her body straining towards Rio's touch. "Fuck. Please, just- please. I want you so badly. I'll do anything, just please touch me, Rio." She's so close, just from Rio massaging her cunt, so close she can almost taste it, but Rio is still tormenting her, still making her wait. "Please" she whispers again, her cunt dripping and Rio watching. Her voice comes again, almost a sob. "Please."

"Just like that" Rio says, a hint of a smirk on her lips. She sees how close Agatha is, how desperate she is for her touch.

And with that, Rio slips two fingers inside her. She can feel her walls clenching around her. She pushes in and out, very slowly.

"God, yes"  Agatha moans. 

Rio does this for a while, her gaze fixed on Agatha's face. She loves how she can make her plead. How she can make her clench, squirm and drip. All because of her. 

When she notices Agatha dripping into the couch, she takes her fingers out. She takes her tongue out and licks, all the way up. 

God, she tastes so good.

"Yes, Rio. Yes. Hmmmmm." Agatha moans as she feels Rio's tongue licking her clean. Her body is so sensitive.

While Rio is enjoying her taste, she takes one of her hands up. Placing it right on Agatha's breast. She squeezes. She massages it. All of this while she's tasting her cum. 

She sucks hard on her clit. 

Without warning, she takes her fingers to her entrance, teasing her way in while she keeps sucking. Her tongue moves slightly to wet the whole of her fingers - and she slides in. 

Two fingers pumping in and out - while she keeps tracing circles and zigzags in Agatha's cunt. 

Agatha feels electric. She looks at the ceiling, almost fainting with so many inputs. 

Rio is pinching her nipple. 

Sucking on her clit.

Pumping her fingers. In and out.

Faster.

Faster.

Faster.

God, she's gonna explode.

Finally, Rio curls her fingers inside. Making Agatha's back arch. She pumps in that same spot for a while, never taking her fingers out.

Agatha feels her insides flood. 

"Rio... Oh my god. I-" Rio keeps pumping and sucking "I can't- Oh god" Rio squeezes her breast harder "Fuck. Yes. There. Don't- Stop"

Rio's tongue moves faster, and this time, she doesn't hold back. She can tell how badly Agatha needs it, and she wants to make it good.

"Look at me" Rio says, lifting her mouth but never stoping her movement with her fingers "I want you to look at me while you come in my mouth"

She wants to hear her come apart, to feel her body tremble under her. And when she does, when she finally lets go, Rio's name on her lips "Fu- Fuck! R-Rio" Rio thinks it's the most beautiful sound she's ever heard. It's like music, like a symphony, and she wants to hear it again and again. She continues her movements, drawing out the pleasure as long as possible.

Rio's body is on fire as she guides Agatha trough this long orgasm. Her own desire rising as she pleasures Agatha.

Agatha's cum in her mouth. It just keeps coming and coming. She's so turned on, she can feel her own wetness between her legs, and she wants nothing more than to bring Agatha her gasp and moan again. She wants to give her everything she has, to feel the pleasure they share in this moment.

Rio sucks hard on her clit, curling her fingers one last time, pumping them hard and slow. 

Agatha keeps coming. Her cum floods Rio's mouth. 

"Hmmmm" Rio moans at the taste.

She licks her clean. Agatha's body trembles at the feeling of her tongue tracing her sensitive nerves again.

"Rio" Agatha gasps, her words breathless and shaky. "That was... that was..." She can't find the words, her body still reeling from the pleasure. Her eyes half-lidded, her face flushed.

"The best thing I've ever tasted" Rio completes. 

Agatha chuckles, leaving her head fall back into the couch. 

Rio stands up, sits right next to her. 

"I think I almost passed out" Agatha whispers "I've never come like that before" Agatha completes "It was...it was intense, and overwhelming, and really...really good." She blushes as she speaks, her voice still trembling, her body still sensitive. "I've never been able to look someone in the eye while it happened."

Rio smiles, a mischievous glint in her eye. "Better get used to it then, because we're not done yet" she says, leaning in to kiss her.

She wants to keep exploring, to see how many times she can make Agatha come undone. "We've got a lot of ground to cover."

Chapter Text

They sit on the couch -still fully naked- side by side. Rio on the left. Agatha on the right.

Because Agatha is always right.

As the wave of pleasure starts to fade, Agatha lays her head against Rio's lap, her body exhausted. She can feel the warmth of Rio's hands in her hair, her fingers tracing through the strands. She closes her eyes, a soft moan escaping her lips, as she lets the gentle touches soothe all the lingering sensations. Her body is soft and relaxed, a stark contrast to the tense and desperate woman she was just moments ago.

"Mhmm, that feels nice." Agatha breathes out as she closes her eyes.

"Well, you deserve to feel good." Rio leans over, kissing the top of her head, a tendure gesture of affection.

Agatha smiled softly at Rio's tender kiss, but an unfamiliar weight settled in her chest, a quiet apprehension swirling with the remnants of her pleasure. She turned her head slightly, looking up at Rio, caught in the gentle warmth of the moment but feeling an echo of uncertainty tugging at her thoughts.

"You can be sweet sometimes" Agatha said, her voice barely above a whisper, as she reached out, turned herself slighty in Rio's lap and softly traced her fingertips along her thigh. The gesture felt instinctive, yet simultaneously daunting, as if each caress carried the potential for something deeper.

Rio glanced down, a smile playing on her lips, the light in her eyes inviting. "Is that so?" she replied, her tone playful but genuinely curious. 

Agatha hesitated, her mind flickering with conflicting emotions. She wanted to express the warmth unfurling in her chest, to say more, but the vulnerability of the situation gripped her tight. "Yeah.." she finally managed, her fingers faltering as they reached up to brush against Rio's side, a gesture laden with both affection and apprehension. "You really make me feel seen"

As the words left her mouth, a sudden wave of fear washed over her.

What did those feelings mean? Was it safe to embrace this connection?

The thought lingered unspoken, hiding in the recesses of her mind as she fought to push it away. Instead, she concentrated on the warmth of Rio's skin beneath her fingers, the soothing cadence of their shared silence.

Rio's expression softened, and she took a breath, sensing the unvoiced tension. "You can take your time, you know," she said quietly, almost as if she could read Agatha's thoughts. Her hand found Agatha's and entwined their fingers, grounding the moment. "No need to rush anything."

Agatha knew Rio was deflecting again. She knew she was now talking about the fact that she still hadn't fully touch her. 

She wanted to. But... Her mind was still playing tricks on her.

Agatha's heart raced, both comforted and unsettled by Rio's words. She squeezed Rio's hand gently -the one that was now resting in her chest- but felt a flicker of resistance within herself, a part that wanted to pull back and shield itself. Her mind wrestled with the boundaries between desire and fear, affection and caution. Instead of letting them spill over into words, she simply stayed there, embracing the tension for now, afraid of the implications that might follow.

"Mhmm" Agatha murmured, masking her unease with a strained smile. “I just... Wanna give back” She hoped her response would be enough to bridge the space between them while keeping her own insecurities at bay. 

"I know" Rio replied, her voice a soothing balm in the air of hesitation. "But we can take it step by step"

Agatha bit her lip, the memory of wanting Rio burning bright in her mind—a desire that both thrilled and terrified her.

What would it be like to have more than just this moment? To take the lead, the way she'd fantasized about during countless nights spent awake thinking of her?

The thought alone sent a shiver down her spine, but with it came a suffocating sense of trepidation.

Was it just physical for her?

Was it just physical for Rio?

Or was there something more lurking beneath those raw, fervent moments they had shared?

Before she could linger too long in her tangled emotions, Agatha pushed those thoughts down, shaking her head subtly as if to dispel them into the ether. Now wasn’t the time to wade through feelings she couldn’t quite understand. She needed to focus on what had happened tonight, on the mystery that had unfolded before everything spiraled into their heated entanglement.

“Rio" she began, her voice steady despite the fragment of fear gnawing at her. “Can we talk about what happened tonight? Like... before all this?” She gestured vaguely around them, uncomfortable with the stark contrast between their passionate encounter and the chaos that had preceded it.

Rio's brow furrowed slightly as she settled back into the couch, her expression shifting from playful to contemplative. "I- I don't know" she replied. The weight of the earlier mood replaced with something heavier. “It’s just… a lot happened, in my head. I didn’t mean to—”

“Storm out? I get that” Agatha interjected gently, sensing the unease creeping into Rio’s demeanor. “But I want to know. You looked like you saw a ghost back there. What happened?”

Rio hesitated, the flicker of something unspoken passing through her eyes. “It was just... seeing someone I didn’t expect to see.”

“Who? Was it someone from the past?” The question slipped from Agatha’s lips, their intensity drawing her closer to Rio, eager for answers.

“Yeah, and sort of. It’s complicated,” Rio admitted, biting her lip as she turned her gaze to the floor, avoiding Agatha’s searching eyes. "It's not something I really want to talk about right now."

Agatha felt a pang of disappointment but masked it with curiosity. “Okay, I can respect that. Just—if you ever want to discuss it, I’m here for you, alright?” Her heart felt heavy with her own unasked questions. The thread of connection between them now felt frail, the intimacy they had just shared contrasting sharply with the wall Rio was putting up.

"I know" Rio murmured, her voice thick with appreciation yet guarded in a way Agatha struggled to process. “It’s… just been a long night.”

Agatha bit her lip, their eyes meeting in the quiet space, a silent understanding passing between them. There was a desire swirling still, but now it mingled with the weight of unspoken words. “You must have a lot on your mind,” she said softly, attempting to diffuse the tension that had crept into the air. “We can just sit quietly, or talk about something else if you want. I know I'm not exactly the most comfortable person to unload on, but I can't help worry about you, you know?”

“I appreciate that” Rio replied, her hand squeezing Agatha's lightly. “It's just hard to explain. It's nothing important. Don't worry. And this”—she gestured vaguely between them—“wasn't in the plan.”

"Neither was me showing up at your place" Agatha said, she chuckled as she tried to lighten the mood. The questions still lurked beneath the surface, but she didn’t want to push. 

"Not that I'm complaining" Rio responded, lifting her palms up in the air. 

"Yeah, nice way of changing the subject - You know... Getting on your knees for me." Agatha smirked.

"Oh, shut up. You were the one who showed up here all hot and angry. I'm not made of steel." She chuckled and Agatha rolled her eyes. 

"Alright, fair enough." Agatha lifted her head from her lap, turning herself to Rio as she sat back. "I guess I get a little" she made a gesture with her fingers "turned on when I get angry."

"Oh, you think?" Rio leaned in. "I never saw that coming..." she said ironically, while cupping her jaw. 

"Dumbass" Agatha spat. But then, she leaned in too, placing a soft kiss on Rio's lips. 

The kiss started soft, a delicate brushing of their mouths, as if testing the waters of intimacy once more. It sent a spark racing through her, igniting a deeper hunger she hadn't anticipated. She closed her eyes, focusing solely on the sweet sensation of their connection.

As the kiss deepened, Agatha felt an exciting rush. Her hands found their way to Rio's shoulders, her fingers sliding over the smooth skin as she pulled Rio closer. The kiss turned more fervent, filled with an urgency that had been building between them. Agatha nibbled gently on Rio's bottom lip, eliciting a soft gasp that sent a thrill down her spine.

Encouraged, Agatha's hands traveled to Rio's sides, just barely at the sides of her breasts, pausing only for a moment to feel the heat radiating from her skin. She wasn't quite sure where this energy was leading her, but the excitement of that uncertainty swept her onto a wave she didn't want to end. Her fingers grazed the contours of Rio's breast before moving, gently pressing against her palms. A rush of anticipation coursed through Agatha as she made contact.

Rio responded instantly, a breath hitching in her throat as she felt Agatha's touch. Agatha bit back a smile, feeling powerful yet tender in that moment. She persisted, her hand moving deliberately, teasingly, as her fingers explored the delicate terrain between comfort and desire.

She pressed her lips back to Rio's, kissing her with an intensity that conveyed all the excitement building within her. She gently urged Rio to part her legs, her fingers exploring with both reverence and craving as they traced along her thigh, lingering at the edges of what layed beneath.

Agatha felt alive in this moment, lost in the dance of pleasure and emotion. Every brush of her fingers sent palpable waves coursing through both of them, and as she kissed Rio deeper, she reveled in the sensation of being so close, yet still daring to delve further.

"Agatha" Rio breathed, the mixture of nervousness and exhilaration evident in her voice. Her thumb stroking the back of Agatha's hand, still placed in her thigh, trying to keep her tone light yet earnest. “I really think we should take a moment.”

Agatha's breath caught in her throat, the unexpectedness of those words igniting a surge of confusion and vulnerability. “What do you mean?” she asked, her heart pounding not just with yearning, but now also with a sense of uncertainty.

“Nothing bad” Rio assured her, a hint of a smile playing on her lips, though her heart was racing. “I just… I want us to really enjoy this, you know?"

Agatha sat up a little, surprised by the pull of Rio’s words. “Are you saying you don’t want this? Don’t want me?” She couched her query in lightness, but the tremor beneath was clear.

She was trying to let go for Rio. She knew that much. 

But it's not like she was doing something she didn't want to.

“Not at all!” Rio exclaimed, her voice a little more fervent than intended. “I want you more than I can say. But…” She hesitated, searching for the right words as her heart thudded in her chest. “I know this is new for you, and I don’t want to scare you off. We should take things step by step.”

Agatha’s gaze bore into Rio’s, searching for clarity amidst the chaotic swirl of emotions. “But what if I want more? What if I want to… to explore?” Her voice was edged with longing, but her heart reigned in uncertainty.

"And you will. I just don't want you to feel pressed to give something back." Rio said, her tone soft.

Agatha let out a gasp. She took her hand back from Rio's thigh. She ran her hand trough her hair. "Yeah I- Fuck. I'm sorry. I didn't want you thinking I'm some kind of- Pillow princess."

Rio laughed. Hard. "Learning gay terms already?"

"Shut up. Dumbass. I did my research!" Agatha chuckled and she hit Rio's shoulder with her fist. 

"Ouch!" She laughed again. "Okay, okay!" Rio lifted her hands in the air "I can see you're a top in the making!"

Agatha rolled her eyes and pulled Rio by the throat to yet another kiss. "Don't push it, you little brat." She said agaisnt her mouth. 

"Fine, Congresswoman. You're in charge." Rio laughed again as she spoke ironically. 

**

Two days ahead.

The Capitol buzzed with its usual cacophony of activity, aides scurried with stacks of documents, lobbyists whispered in corners, and the sound of clicking heels echoed through the marble halls. Agatha sat alone in a dimly lit corner of the  lounge, her gaze fixed on the sprawling cityscape visible through the towering windows. Washington always had a way of making her feel both powerful and insignificant, depending on the day.

Today, it was the latter.

The debate with Cadwell was imminent, and while she felt prepared on paper, her mind churned with unease. He’d been carefully orchestrating his attacks, capitalizing on the scandal surrounding Professor Warren to chip away at her credibility. Every media appearance he made felt like another nail in the coffin of her campaign’s momentum.

The photos taken at the last event made it to a few headlines.

"Congresswoman Harkness and the Warren Scandal: A Career on the Brink?"

"She Slept Her Way to the Top?: Scandal Rocks Harkness Campaign"

"A Family Affair: The Harkness Name Tarnished by New Allegations"

"Scandal in the Capitol: Agatha Harkness Faces Calls to Drop out of the Race"

At least they weren’t just coming for her.

Evanora Harkness, the indomitable matriarch, was finally being dragged into the fray. Speculation about her role in silencing Warren was splashed across a few of the outlets. For once, it wasn’t just Agatha’s name being tossed like bait to the wolves - it was the family name.

“Let them dig” she muttered under her breath. If the vultures wanted to dismantle the Harkness empire, they’d have to do better than the rehashed innuendo. Yet, a flicker of unease passed through her.

How far would her mother go to ensure they both came out unscathed?

She swirled the untouched espresso in her cup, her thoughts straying to Rio. The past two days had been a blur of damage control and rehearsals, leaving her little time to process what had happened between them—or what it meant. Yet, Rio lingered at the edges of her mind, like a shadow that refused to be ignored.

Agatha clenched her jaw, replaying fragments of their time together.. the way Rio’s lips had felt against hers, the heat of their connection, the tender moments afterward. But her thoughts inevitably drifted to something darker—the feeling that Rio was hiding something.

It wasn’t just Rio’s guarded nature. It was the way she’d avoided certain questions, the subtle deflections that had left Agatha piecing together fragments of her past from articles and vague mentions in conversation. She hated being kept in the dark, especially now, when every move she made felt like walking a tightrope.

And then, there was the article.

The exposé had rattled her, not because it accused her of sleeping her way to success—she’d heard worse in her career—but because of what it implied. Professor Warren was dead, a sudden suicide listed as the cause. Yet, Agatha couldn’t shake the feeling that her mother’s hand had been in it.

Evanora Harkness was no stranger to pulling strings- or triggers?-especially when it came to protecting the family name. Agatha’s mind raced with the implications. Had her mother done something to Warren to silence him? To protect her? The thought made her stomach churn.

I need answers. She thought.

She clenched her jaw. She couldn't stomach the idea of anyone else hiding things from her—not her mother, not the press, and certainly not Rio.

Rio’s evasiveness gnawed at her. There was too much she didn’t know.

Who was the person Rio had seen at that gala? What was she running from—or protecting?

Agatha's gaze drifted to her phone. A decision crystallized in her mind. If Rio wouldn’t share her truth willingly, Agatha would find it herself. 

But I told her she could share when she was ready.

Fuck. No.

I can't wait.

I can't keep trusthing in someone blindy.

No.

Agatha pulled her phone from her pocket, hesitating only for a moment before dialing the number she’d memorized long ago.

“Mr. Specter” she said when the call connected.

“Congresswoman” came the smooth, baritone reply. “To what do I owe the pleasure?”

“I need you to look into someone for me, I know you have... Your means” she said, her tone clipped.

There was a pause, followed by the faint sound of papers shuffling. “I assume this is... sensitive?”

“Very.”

“Understood. Who’s the target?”

Agatha hesitated, the weight of the decision pressing down on her. This was a line she hadn’t crossed before—not with someone she’d let so close. But Rio’s evasiveness gnawed at her, and she couldn’t shake the feeling that knowing the truth was essential, both for her safety and her sanity.

“Her name is Rio Vidal” Agatha said finally. “I need everything—her background, her connections, anything that might explain why she’s so... elusive.”

Specter hummed thoughtfully. “Vidal, you said?” His mind seemed to know the name, but he didn't add anything.

“That’s the one.”

“Interesting choice of target. Any particular angle you want me to focus on?”

Agatha closed her eyes, leaning back against the cool leather of the chair. “I want to know if she’s who she says she is. No stone unturned. And Specter... this stays between us.”

“Of course, Congresswoman” he replied smoothly. “I’ll start immediately. Expect an initial report within forty-eight hours.”

“Good” Agatha said "And Harvey?"

"Yes?" He responded.

"I think we are on a first name basis. There's no need to act all professional with someone you used to drink shots with." Agatha chuckled.

"Understood" Harvet laughed. "Talk to you soon, Agatha."

She stared at her phone for a long moment, the weight of her decision settling over her like a shroud. This wasn’t just about Rio. It was about everything—her mother’s manipulations, the scandal with Warren, the campaign, and the gnawing suspicion that her world was on the brink of unraveling.

Her fingers tightened around the espresso cup as she stood, her reflection in the glass catching her eye. She saw a woman poised and polished, ready to take on the world. But beneath the surface, she felt the cracks forming.

For now, she’d focus on the debate. Cadwell wouldn’t get the satisfaction of seeing her falter.

**

Agatha's phone vibrated, cutting through the silence of her kitchen. The name on the screen—Lilia. She hadn’t been able to avoid the call forever.

Taking a deep breath, Agatha swiped the screen. "Lilia."

"Agatha." Lilia’s voice was all business, cutting through the pleasantries. "We need to talk about the Warren scandal."

Agatha’s grip tightened on the edge of the counter. "Not now, Lilia. I’ve told you—"

"No, Agatha. Now." Lilia's voice was sharp, and Agatha could practically hear her pacing. "You might’ve won the primaries, but that means nothing if this blows up in your face. You do realize what this scandal could do to your campaign, right? Especially in Maryland."

Agatha’s heart raced. She was trying to hold it together, but she felt the weight of Lilia’s words press down on her. "Lilia, we've been over this. It's in the past. We can focus on now."

"Don’t kid yourself" Lilia cut in, the edge in her tone unmistakable. "You’re running for Senate. That’s not something you can just bury. If voters start asking more questions—" She paused, letting the silence settle like a weight. "Agatha, this will tank everything. People won’t forget. The media is already digging into your past. You’ve got about a week before more stories break. The clock’s ticking."

Agatha closed her eyes, a sharp breath escaping her lips. Maryland. It wasn’t just any state. The Warren "affair"—the whispers about what had happened between them—could ruin everything. The people of Maryland, disillusioned with power, were never going to forgive.

"I can't just walk away from this, Lilia" Agatha said, her voice lower now, the weight of it almost strangling her. "I’ve worked too hard, sacrificed too much."

"You don’t have a choice" Lilia responded, her voice now a near whisper of frustration. "You’ve already lost if you don't act now. The question is—how far are you willing to go to protect your career? And what are you willing to do to make sure Maryland doesn’t turn their back on you?"

The phone call felt suffocating. The air in the kitchen thickened. Agatha's mind raced, but her hands stayed still, betraying nothing.

"You know what you have to do" Lilia said softly. "I’ll be here when you make your decision."

The call ended with a cold click, leaving Agatha staring at her reflection in the window, unable to hide from the choices ahead.

Agatha stood frozen, the phone still pressed to her ear, though the call had ended. The words what are you willing to do? echoed in her mind like a dark whisper. She hadn’t asked herself that question in a long time, not in this context. Not like this.

She looked down at her hands, suddenly aware of their trembling. She needed to make a choice, but she wasn’t sure which direction to go.

What did she have to do?

She could bury the scandal. Make it disappear—at least for now. But that would mean turning her back on everything she said she stood for. She had always prided herself on playing the game with integrity. She couldn't just toss that out of the window. Could she?

But there was a part of Agatha that was tired of running. Tired of trying to maintain the illusion of perfection, tired of managing her image for others. Maybe this was the time to do something radical. Something to make them listen, to make them see the real Agatha - Like Rio was hoping she could show the world.

The problem was, that version of herself—the one with the power, the influence, the public persona—was everything. It was what had kept her afloat through years of manipulation, deceit, and heartache. If she destroyed that now, there would be no going back. And if she let it go, there was no way to predict what would come next.

Then there was Lilia’s warning: What are you willing to do to protect your career?

The answer came to Agatha in a rush of clarity. There was one thing she could do that would erase Warren's leverage over her once and for all—and the voters would never see it coming. It would be bold, it would be risky, but it might just work.

She had to go public. Not with the scandal itself, but with the truth. She had to take control before the media could twist it into something that would destroy her. She could shift the narrative about Warren—spin it into a story that showed his true colors - and her mother's. If she played it right, it would make her appear not as the accomplice but as a woman who had been betrayed, used, and ultimately broken free.

But to do that, she needed to act fast. She couldn’t afford to wait for the media to catch wind of the details- she needed to be the one breaking the story. The timing had to be perfect.

Agatha exhaled, her breath heavy and deliberate. She walked over to the desk, her mind already working through the steps. It was dangerous—more dangerous than anything she had done before—but it was the only way forward.

With a steady hand, she began typing a message to Lilia. She had made up her mind.

It’s time. Let’s move.

It was a declaration. A promise to herself. A promise that this time, she would be the one holding the reins.

She opened the message thread with Rio and typed, her words measured but laced with anger.

You still want to help me bring my mother down?

She could almost hear Rio’s voice in her mind: You sure you’re ready for this?

The response came faster than she expected, a single line of text that chilled her.

You know, I’ve always wanted to destroy the board game. Tear it all down. But once it’s done, there’s no putting the pieces back.

Agatha’s stomach flipped. She had never been so sure of something in her life—and yet, the risk of it made her pulse race. She was stepping into a darkness she couldn’t escape once she entered. But she was already too deep. There was no going back now.

Her fingers hovered over the screen, every inch of her body fighting the instinct to pull away. But she couldn’t. Not now. Not when she was so close.

She typed again, the words sharp and hungry: I don’t want to walk away. I need this. You in?

The response was almost immediate, a single word that sealed her fate:

Always.

**

She needed Rio—but, at what cost?

Before she’d asked Rio for help, Agatha had reached out to Specter. She’d called in the favor, pushed him to dig into Rio’s past.

But, it was just to make that Rio was still on her side.

Right? It makes sense, right?!

Her inner circle couldn't be breached.

Rio is now part of the circle.

She owes her the truth.

She had to be sure.

But now, as the weight of the decision settled on her, she wondered...

Had she gone too far?

Chapter Text

43 hours later.

Still no call from Harvey Specter.

Still no plan to take Evanora down.

The future debate just three days ahead and... no preparation.

Agatha's mind is spinning with so much information, so much happening at the same time.

Agatha heads to meet Rio-far from prying eyes of reporters and staffers. She had chosen the spot deliberately. No cameras, no noise, just the quiet hum of water lapping against the shore and the occasional chatter of patrons too busy with their own lives to notice them.

Rio was already there, seated at a corner table with her back to the window. She sipped something, her gaze distant, lost in thought. When Agatha approached, Rio’s eyes flickered up, and she gestured silently to the chair across from her.

Agatha sat down, letting the stillness settle over them for a moment before speaking. “Thank you for meeting me.”

Rio tilted her head, her expression neutral but her tone soft. “You sounded... impatient.”

Agatha leaned forward, folding her hands on the table. “I need to know if we’re ready to do this. To take her down-”

Rio interrupted, her eyes locking onto Agatha’s. “Agatha. Are you sure you... want to do this? You can’t control the fallout. You know that, right?”

“I’ve spent my whole life trying to control the fallout,” Agatha snapped, then softened her voice. “But.. It’s about the truth now. It’s about making sure people like her—like my mother—don’t get to keep winning.”

Rio studied her for a long moment, as if searching for cracks in her resolve. “You’re talking about... going public with the Warren story?”

Agatha nodded. “Not directly. But we can push the media to dig deeper, give them enough to question. If we frame it right, it’ll lead back to her.”

“And you’re okay with what that might mean for you?” Rio leaned forward, her voice low. “Because you know they might not stop at your mother. They can come for you. For everything.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. “They’re already coming for me. At least this way, I’m not just sitting here waiting for the next hit.”

Rio hesitated, her fingers tracing the edge of her cup. “Agatha, I need to know—are you sure about Warren? That it wasn’t suicide?”

“I don’t know what the truth is” Agatha admitted “But I know my mother.” She met Rio’s gaze, her eyes fierce. “I can’t prove it, not yet, but I can’t just ignore it either. I need to know, Rio. And if we don’t push, we’ll never get the answers.”

Rio leaned back in her chair, exhaling slowly. “You’re gambling everything on this. Your career, your reputation, maybe even your safety. Are you ready for that?”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line. “I don’t think I’ve ever been ready for anything in my life, Rio. But I’m doing it anyway.”

For a moment, neither of them spoke. The weight of Agatha’s words hung between them, heavy and unyielding. Then Rio nodded, a faint, almost imperceptible smile playing at the corners of her mouth.

“Alright” she said. “We’ll start with the media. A few well-placed whispers, just enough to make them curious. But Agatha...”

Agatha raised an eyebrow.

“You have to promise me one thing,” Rio continued, her voice firm. “When this gets ugly—and it will get ugly—you don’t shut me out. You let me help you. No matter what.”

Agatha felt a lump form in her throat, but she nodded. “I promise.”

Rio seemed to accept this, though her expression remained guarded. “Then we’ll make them dig.”

Agatha didn't respond. Her thoughts kept lingering. 

Rio seemed so... available.

Why is she like this but keeps hiding things?

She tells me not to shut her down, but she's doing that herself.

She could not prevent her mind from wondering what Specter might tell her. She knew Rio was deflecting for days now. Yet, at this exact moment, with the wheels set in motion, the discovery of those secrets felt less like an achievement and more like betrayal.

What if I'm wrong?

That question gnawed inside her as Rio leaned slightly over and spoke with her steady and resolute voice, outlining the next steps of their plan. Agatha nodded along consecutively, her expression holding a mask.

But in truth, the shadow of her decision loomed there.

She turned her gaze to Rio with her heart twisting. Whatever she might find or not, Agatha already had crossed over the line.

And whatever the turn of events might be, there was no turning back. 

**

Rio's POV

She picked up the burner phone that was kept in her living room safe, hidden behind a painting,  and dialed a number from memory. A contact she hadn’t used in years. 

“Rio Vidal..” the man said, his tone equal parts amused and wary. “Well, it’s been a while.”

“Too long, Julian” Rio replied, her voice light but with an edge of urgency. “I’m calling because.. I’ve got a gift for you.”

“Gifts from you usually come with strings attached.”

Rio smirked. “This one’s for free. Call it a tip for the good old times’ sake. But if you’re smart—and I know you are—you’ll want to dig a bit.”

There was a pause, the sound of Julian lighting a cigarette crackling through the line. “Okay, Vidal. I’m listening.”

Rio leaned against the wall in her living room, her mind already spinning the threads of the story she wanted him to follow. “You know about the Warren scandal, right? The guy tied to Agatha Harkness?”

Julian chuckled dryly. “Who doesn’t? The man’s name is in every tabloid from here to Peru.”

“Yeah, right. But here’s the thing.. Do you think it’s normal for a tenured professor to just-" she pauses, looks at her window "End it all? No note, no explanation, no nothing? Especially when he was about to go public with some big story about a certain political dynasty?”

Julian’s interest piqued audibly. “You’re saying it wasn’t a suicide? What story?”

“What I’m saying is that you should look into who stood to benefit from Warren’s silence” Rio said, her tone calculated, each word dripping with insinuation. “Start with Evanora Harkness. She’s got more skeletons in her closet than the cemetery.”

Julian exhaled, the sound of his cigarette crackling again. “You’ve got my attention. But if I dig and find nothing—”

“You won’t.” Rio interrupted “Check his financials. Look into who he was meeting in the weeks before his death. There’s always a trail, Julian. You just need to follow it.”

There was a long silence on the other end before Julian spoke again, his tone lower, more serious. “You always were good at pointing me in the right direction. This better not blow up in my face.”

“Just make sure you do your homework” Rio said, her voice softening slightly. “And Julian? Be careful who you talk to. Evanora doesn’t play clean.”

The line went dead, and Rio set the phone down, her heart pounding in her chest. She knew what she was doing was dangerous, but it was necessary.

She crossed the room to the window, staring out at the city. This wasn’t just about Agatha or even Evanora anymore. This was about the truth—and if Rio had to wade through the muck to expose it, so be it.

Still, as she stood there, a flicker of doubt crept in. She was good at keeping her secrets, but she could feel Agatha closing in, her suspicion simmering beneath the surface.

Rio shook her head, pushing her mind away from those thoughts. She would deal with that -the whole César shit- when the time came. For now, she had a fire to start.

**

Agatha's POV

Across from her, Jen shuffled through a stack of documents, her expression tight with concentration.

“We need to hit him on healthcare!” Jen said, her voice firm. “Cadwell’s record on public health is abysmal. Tie it to his connections with Big Pharma. Make it personal-show the voters how his policies hurt families.”

Agatha nodded, circling a few key phrases on her notes. “What about education? Maryland’s still reeling from budget cuts. We can paint him as out of touch, a career politician who’s more interested in donor dinners than classrooms.”

“Yeah, that's it!" Jen points her finger at Agatha "That’s good, but we can’t go too hard without evidence. His camp will jump on us if we overreach. Stick to the facts, but sharpen the narrative. People need to see him as part of the problem.”

Agatha exhaled, glancing at the debate outline spread before them. The strategy was solid, but her mind felt clouded, distracted. The conversation with Rio earlier lingered at the edges of her thoughts, and the mounting pressure of the campaign felt suffocating.

Her phone buzzed, vibrating against the surface of the table. She glanced at the screen.

Harvey Specter

“Excuse me” she said, rising from her chair. “I need to take this.”

Jen raised an eyebrow but didn’t object as Agatha stepped out into the hallway, pressing the phone to her ear.

“Harvey,” she said, her voice low. “What you got for me?”

“Agatha,” Specter’s smooth, familiar tone came through the line. “I’ve got something. And I think it’s quite... Big.”

Her pulse quickened. “Go on.”

“I did some digging on your friend, Rio Vidal,” he said, a slight edge in his voice. “Turns out, she’s not just some common citizen. She's the daugther of César Vidal.”

Agatha’s brow furrowed. “César Vidal? The name doesn’t ring a bell.”

Specter chuckled dryly. “That’s because he’s made damn sure it doesn’t. César was a top intelligence operative back in the day. Some high-level spook. After retiring from the intelligence game, he transitioned into... Well, let’s call it influence management. He’s a power broker, Agatha. Quiet, but effective. He’s got his hands in everything from energy policy to foreign trade deals. People owe him favors, and he knows how to collect.”

Agatha leaned against the wall, her mind racing. “Why haven’t I heard of him?”

“Because he’s a ghost.” Specter said, simply. “The guy’s a master at erasing his tracks. No articles, no public records that lead back to anything meaningful. But he’s there, pulling strings. You know those international lobbying scandals that pop up now and then? His fingerprints are probably on a few of them.”

Her stomach twisted. “And Rio? What’s her connection to all this?”

“That’s the kicker..” Specter responded. “Rio’s been keeping a low profile, but from what I could piece together, she’s been involved in some of his operations—covert stuff. Think diplomatic backchannels, smoothing over disputes, that kind of thing. She’s not just some bystander in all of this, Agatha. She’s part of his web.”

Agatha’s mind reeled. “How the hell did you find all this, Harvey?”

Specter laughed softly. “I may not be an investigator, but I have my resources. A client of mine—a tech mogul—owed me a favor. I had him pull metadata from some encrypted communications. Nothing concrete, but enough to paint a picture. César Vidal’s name came up in connection with Rio's more than once.”

The weight of the revelation settled over her like a lead blanket. Rio wasn’t just hiding something—she was hiding a whole fucking life.

“Agatha,” Specter said, his tone softening. “You need to be careful. If Rio’s still tied up to her father, there’s no telling what she’s involved in. And if she’s part of this... well, let’s just say it’s dangerous territory.”

Agatha swallowed hard, the walls of her carefully constructed world threatening to close in. “Thanks, Harvey.” she said finally. “I- I’ll handle it.”

“Just... don’t do anything rash,” he said, his voice carrying a note of genuine concern. “You’re walking a tightrope. Don’t let it snap.”

The call ended, and Agatha stood frozen, the phone still in her hand. Her heart pounded as the pieces clicked into place. Rio’s guardedness, her ability to navigate high-stakes situations, her insistence on not being shut out—it all made sense now.

But it also meant Agatha was standing on a minefield, and one wrong step could blow everything apart.

That man... The man she watched so closely as Rio tried to chase at the event. Could this be the famous César?

Was he just some kind of César's henchmen?

Or worse, was he involved in the network of schemes?

Was Rio trying to get to him to plot about some kind of move?

Or... Even worse... Was Rio involved in some kind of network to break Agatha's political rise?

Whose side is she on?

Fuck. Agatha thought. Fuck. Fuck. Fuck!

She stared at the hallway, her thoughts a chaotic whirlwind. She needed to decide—confront Rio, or keep playing the game, knowing every move brought her closer to the edge.

A few minutes later, Agatha takes a deep breath -a very deep breath- and composes herself to go back to the work she was doing with Jen. The debate was important, she had to focus.

Her heart races as Jen continues to chatter on, her words like a dull hum in the background. The debate? The policy changes? None of it registers. The weight of her thoughts, the guilt, the lies, all of it suffocates her. Jen’s voice grates on her nerves, pulling her back into the moment only to snap her out of it.

"What's up with you, Agatha?" Jen asks, her voice too bright, too oblivious to the storm brewing beneath the surface.

She tries to shake it off, offering a tight smile, but the anger bubbles up. It’s unfair, this constant need to be something, someone, for everyone else. “I can’t do this right now, Jen" Agatha spits out, the words clipped, sharp. Before Jen can respond, she turns on her heel and walks away, each step a release, but also a further descent into chaos.

Her breath comes in short bursts, quick and shallow, the panic clawing at her chest. She’s losing control, her body betraying her mind. She doesn’t know how to stop it.

She goes down the elevator and arrives at the lobby. Agatha looks around and everything seems out of place. She needs to get out of here, to breathe some fresh air. Hot-headed, she decides it would be a great idea to walk down the street until she calms down.

And then they appear. Paparazzi. Out of nowhere, a flash of cameras and flashing lights. The questions come at her rapid-fire.

“Any thoughts on the controversy surrounding your personal life?”

“Are you planning to drop out of the race?”

They keep coming, one after another, overwhelming her senses. She can’t breathe. The flashes blur together, the questions a relentless barrage. The anger, the fear, the exhaustion—it all crashes down, and she snaps. It’s not pretty.

Her face twists in frustration, her voice rising in anger. “Leave me the fuck alone, you vultures! ” she screams at them, but it only seems to fuels the fire. Their cameras zooming in, the microphones are now pushing closer. She doesn’t care anymore. It’s all falling apart.

A future senator? Not if she keeps losing herself like this. 

She puts her hands to her head, in a futile attempt to hide from the flashes and questions that only make her head spin more and more. She feels the sweat building in the palm of her hands. Her vision increasingly more blurry.

Agatha starts to walk faster, trying to throw them off. But where? She is on foot and they are blocking the entrance from where she left. 

"Please" She whispers, as she's pleading for them to stop. They don't listen. They keep pushing. 

Her palms still over her eyes, trying to block the reality that surrounds her.

There's no way out.

She's going to have a full on panic attack in front of the cameras. In the middle of the street.

**

Rio’s eyes narrow as soon as she spots the flash of cameras in the distance. At first, it’s just a buzz, a chaotic mob, but then, her gaze sharpens. There, amidst the flashes, is Agatha. It’s hard to mistake the tense posture, the tightness in her face—it’s the same look Rio remembers from weeks ago, right before she broke down.

Rio was about to park in the building as soon as she notices this. But she's still about a block away from the entrace. What is Agatha doing there?

The world blurs around Rio as she instinctively slams her foot on the gas, her car lurching forward as she swerves around traffic and over the sidewalk. She doesn’t think. She can’t think. All she knows is that Agatha looks like she’s about to lose it again, and Rio won’t let that happen. Not on her watch.

The car screeches to a halt in front of Agatha, tires scraping against the pavement as the engine roars to a stop. She doesn’t care about the damage. She doesn’t care about the chaos she just caused.

The paparazzi are livid. Shouting, cursing, jumping back in alarm as Rio’s car comes to stop a bit above the sidewalk, just in the middle of them. “You could have killed us!” one of them yells. “Stop driving like a maniac!” another shouts, their faces a mixture of fury and disbelief. But Rio is already out of the car, her eyes locked on Agatha, the world around them fading into the background.

She pushes past the paparazzi, ignoring the shouts and insults, and strides over to Agatha. She’s barely keeping it together, that much is obvious. Rio reaches her side, placing a firm hand on Agatha’s arm, a grounding touch, a lifeline.

“Agatha,” she says softly, but with urgency “come with me. Now.”

Agatha’s eyes flicker over to her, but it takes a moment for recognition to break through the haze of panic. And when it does, it’s like the weight on Agatha’s chest lifts, just a little. But Rio can see the storm behind her eyes.

“Agatha” Rio presses, her voice low, almost pleading. "Let me take you out of here.”

Agatha is still caught in the whirlpool of flashing lights and shouted questions. But when Rio’s hand touches her arm, it’s like a shock to her system. For a split second, the world recedes, and Agatha blinks, trying to focus on Rio’s face through the haze of panic. 

The moment stretches out, but Rio doesn’t wait for her to decide if she wants to go with her or not. She gently pulls, urging Agatha toward the car, her voice insistent yet calm. "We’re leaving."

Agatha stumbles slightly, her body betraying her, but Rio’s hand is steady, pulling her with quiet strength. The paparazzi, still screaming, are starting to swarm, their cameras capturing every move. They try to get closer, shout more questions, but Rio’s already moving between Agatha and the crowd, her body a barrier.

“I said, enough!” Rio shouts at them, her voice sharp, slicing through the noise. “She’s not talking to you!” She screams as she points her finger to them.

The paps hesitate for a moment, but it’s just enough time for Rio to get Agatha into the passenger seat. She slams the door, practically diving into the driver’s side, the engine roaring to life as she speeds away.

Agatha doesn’t say a word. Her hands are clenched in her lap, her knuckles white. The tension in her body is palpable, but Rio can’t help but feel a small flicker of relief that she’s gotten her out of there.

They drive in silence for a few blocks before Rio takes a breath and glances over. Agatha’s face is pale, her eyes unfocused, and the edges of her lips twitch like they want to tremble.

Rio’s grip tightens on the wheel, her jaw clenched. 

She glances at her, her voice softer now, but still filled with quiet urgency. “You good?” she asks, not expecting an answer, but needing to hear something—anything—that tells her Agatha isn’t about to break down completely.

Agatha’s breath comes in ragged gasps, but after a few seconds, she manages to meet Rio’s gaze. Her voice, when it comes, is barely a whisper. “I... I don’t know.”

Rio nods, understanding more than she can put into words. 

The panic attack had been bad enough—suffocating, clawing at Agatha's chest—but what had caused it, what had triggered it, was even worse. The information the Harvey gave her… about Rio.

She can’t shake it. The words keep circling her brain like a haunting melody, impossible to forget.

Rio isn’t who you think she is. She tells herself.

Every time she tries to push it away, it resurfaces. Her own voice echoes in her head, a chilling reminder that everything she thought she knew about Rio could be a lie. And now… now she’s sitting in a car with her.

Her hands twitch at her sides, the tension in her muscles so tight it feels like she might snap in half. She doesn’t know what to do with herself, what to do with this new truth that’s swirling inside her.

What if Rio had been playing some kind of game this whole time?

What the fuck was even real anymore?

Agatha sneaks a glance at her out of the corner of her eye, but quickly looks away, afraid that Rio might somehow read her thoughts. Her chest tightens again as her mind spins faster.

The look Rio gave her earlier, when she’d rushed to pull her away from the paparazzi—it hadn’t been out of kindness. Had it been an act? Was she just playing her part in some twisted plot?

Stop, she tells herself, just stop thinking about it.

But it’s like trying to stop a train once it’s already on its track. Every little thing about Rio, every moment, every glance, is now filtered through this lens of suspicion. Even the way Rio’s driving, the way she holds the wheel, feels like it’s part of a bigger picture that Agatha can’t see, but that’s threatening to collapse in on her.

"Agatha?" Rio’s voice pulls her back to the present, soft but steady, a lifeline in the chaos. "You’re shaking."

Agatha’s eyes flicker to her, and she feels the weight of the question, the care in Rio’s tone. It’s almost enough to make her forget the storm raging inside her. Almost.

“I’m fine.” she answers, though her voice cracks just a little at the end. She can’t let Rio know. She can’t let anyone know how much she’s losing herself.

But Rio’s eyes—those eyes, filled with concern, warmth, something so genuine—make it even harder to push the thoughts away. How could someone who might have been hiding so much be so… real?

Her grip tightens on her seatbelt, as though it’s the only thing keeping her grounded in this moment. She forces herself to breathe. She’s overthinking, she knows it, but that’s how she copes, right? By thinking until her mind goes numb.

But this? This feels different.

Rio can feel the tension radiating from her like heat. She knows Agatha needs space, but there’s also something deeper beneath the surface. She can feel it, the pull of something unresolved.

Eventually, Rio makes a sharp turn down a narrow road, one that leads away from the busy city streets. The road becomes more isolated, lined with trees and open fields. It’s a place that feels far removed from the world, a place where no one would follow them.

She slows the car down, the engine purring softly as they roll to a stop in the middle of the road, surrounded by nothing but the quiet landscape.  Rio takes a deep breath, her hands still gripping the wheel, but she’s not looking at the road anymore. She turns to Agatha, watching her out of the corner of her eye, her gaze soft but unwavering.

“I know something’s wrong” Rio says quietly, her voice gentle but insistent. “You’ve been holding it in, but you don’t have to. Not with me.”

Agatha doesn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed ahead, her lips pressed together in a tight line. She can feel the weight of Rio’s words, the quiet pressure, but the storm inside her refuses to let up.

She can’t let her see. She can’t let anyone see how fragile she is right now. If this is all a game, she can't lose it.

The silence stretches on, heavy and thick, until Agatha’s breath catches in her throat. It’s the only sound, a brief, strangled inhale, but it’s enough to make Rio’s heart skip a beat. Without thinking, Rio reaches over and places a hand gently on Agatha’s arm, the touch barely more than a whisper of contact, because Agatha retracts at the contact.

“Agatha” Rio's gaze fixed on her, her eyes questioning what's happening “I’m here. Whatever’s going on, we can talk about it. Did I do something wrong?”

Agatha's body stiffens for a fraction of a second, but then she slowly exhales, like she’s been holding her breath this entire time. She looks over at Rio then, her defenses worn thin.

The world outside feels miles away, as though it’s no longer real. There’s only the two of them now—two people who, in this moment, are suspended in time, trapped in the heavy air of things unsaid.

“I don’t…” Agatha starts, but her voice falters. She closes her eyes, as though trying to block out the thoughts running rampant in her head. “I don’t know what I’m doing anymore, Rio.”

It’s not what Rio expected, not the words she was anticipating, but it’s raw and real. Agatha’s walls, the ones she’s built so high, are starting to crumble, piece by piece.

“Don’t think you have to have all the answers right now,” Rio says softly. “Is this about Evanora? Did something more happened?”

“I don’t know if I can trust you.” She admits, her eyes cast downward, the words slipping out before she can stop them.

Rio freezes, the words cutting through the air like a blade. For a moment, it feels like the world has stopped spinning. The confession is out there, raw and unprotected.

Agatha swallows hard, her throat tight. She’s not even sure why she said it, but once it’s out, she can’t take it back.

Rio takes a steadying breath, her face unreadable for a long moment. Her face then changes completely, as if she was shifting to a person that Agatha doesn't even know. Her gaze fixed on Agatha, and she asks seriously "What makes you think that?" Her eyes seem so blank - like there's no soul in there.

She's too calm. Too serious. Agatha thinks.

"Are you a psychopath or something?" Agatha asks, lifting her brow.

"What?!" Rio responds, complety caught off guard.

"Just checking. That look you gave me just now and that shift, you looked like someone else." Agatha spats, point blank. 

"You're speaking nonsense." Her tone dismissive. Rio pulls back and takes her eyes off Agatha, turning her face - now looking at the window on the driver's side as she talks. "I just don't like people doubting me."

Rio's hands stiffen on the steering wheel, the briefest flash of anger crossing her features before she masks it with an effort that almost seems too practiced.

Agatha’s eyes narrow slightly at Rio’s response. “You don’t like people doubting you, huh?” she repeats, her voice low but deliberate. There’s something sharper behind the words now, a subtle accusation that she can’t quite hide. “Then why are you hiding shit from me?”

Rio stiffens at the question, her fingers tightening again. She doesn’t turn to look at Agatha, but there’s a slight shift in her posture that betrays her. For a brief moment, the calm façade falters, just enough for Agatha to notice.

“What are you talking about?” Rio responds, playing dumb, the confusion in her voice sounding almost too rehearsed. “I’m not hiding anything.”

Agatha’s lips curl into a small, knowing smirk, but she doesn’t push. Instead, she leans back in her seat, feigning nonchalance. “Oh, I must have misinterpreted things, then,” she says casually, though her eyes remain fixed on Rio, watching for any flicker of hesitation.

Rio doesn’t acknowledge the shift in tone. Her eyes stay trained on the road ahead, her face now impassive, but Agatha can see the muscles in her jaw working. She’s processing, but not revealing anything.

“You probably did,” Rio replies, her voice calm again, but with an edge to it. "You’re reading too much into things."

Agatha leans forward slightly, her posture casual, but her eyes sharp. “I guess it’s easy to do that when you’re not getting the full picture,” she says, the words hanging in the air, a quiet challenge. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m missing something... like you’re holding back, and I’m supposed to just... let it slide.”

Rio’s lips press into a thin line, her gaze still straight ahead, but her eyes flicker for the briefest second. It’s small—so small that Agatha might have missed it if she weren’t paying such close attention.

“I’m not hiding anything from you, Agatha.” Rio says again, more firmly now, but there’s a slight edge to her voice, as if she’s becoming just a little frustrated.

Agatha sits back again, her expression softening into something almost innocent. She smiles, but it’s empty, like a mask. “Right. If that's how you wanna play it.”

“You know,” Rio finally says, her voice cold and sharp, “you’re really starting to piss me off with this bullshit.”

Agatha doesn’t flinch, her own anger rising, as if something inside her had been waiting for this. “Oh, I’m pissing you off now?” she snaps back, her tone biting. “Maybe I’m just trying to make sense of the shit you’re hiding.”

Rio whips her gaze toward Agatha, her eyes flashing with a sudden intensity. “You think I’m hiding something?! You think I’m lying to you?”

Agatha’s voice is low, dangerous. “Maybe I do. Maybe I’m starting to think that you’re part of a fucking game. A game to take me down. You and your perfect little plan.”

Rio’s eyes narrow, but Agatha’s words hit her like a slap. She clenches her fists harder, the air between them crackling.

“Don’t you dare accuse me of that” Rio warns, her voice low and deadly. “You don’t know a damn thing about me. I'm here to help you. ”

Agatha doesn’t back down. Her breathing grows heavy as the anger swells in her chest, her words coming faster now, more accusatory. “Oh, I know enough. You're probably even in this with my mother. You probably helped her set me up—your dad, your connections... all of it! You're probably working with them both, trying to take me down before I can even get my fucking feet under me."

Her heart pounds, but Agatha doesn’t care anymore. The words spill out like venom, each one laced with suspicion and distrust. “You’ve been playing me from the start! You’re all part of this fucking scheme— your father... it’s all connected. You’ve been setting me up from day one. And I’m just the damn fool who didn’t see it.”

The car feels suffocating now. The accusations are out there, hanging between them like a storm cloud, and Agatha doesn’t know if she feels more vindicated or terrified. Rio is tense, every muscle in her body coiled like a spring, and for a moment, Agatha wonders if she’s gone too far.

But Rio’s face contorts with disbelief, her grip on the wheel tightening to the point where her knuckles go white. She doesn’t snap back immediately—she’s just... stunned. She opens her mouth to respond, but the words catch in her throat.

"That’s not true," Rio says, voice shaky, like she’s trying to convince herself as much as Agatha. “I even told a journalist to dig on your mother, Agatha. I—"

She stops mid-sentence, her breath catching as if something just hit her like a brick. Her eyes dart toward Agatha, locking onto hers with an intensity that’s almost frightening.

“How the fuck do you know about my father?” Rio demands, her voice trembling with a mix of confusion and rage.

Agatha freezes. For a moment, everything seems to halt—the car, the world, the very air around them. Her pulse hammers in her ears, and her stomach drops. She hadn’t expected the question, hadn’t anticipated the sudden shift in Rio’s demeanor. But it’s out there now, and she’s caught off guard by her own slip-up.

Shit.

Agatha’s mind races, her thoughts scrambling to patch together a plausible answer. She tries to hide the panic that threatens to rise, her mind whirring as she thinks back to everything she knows about Rio. How the hell did she know about her father?

She opens her mouth, but no words come out at first. The moment stretches on, her heart pounding louder than her thoughts. Finally, she speaks, trying to cover it up with a forced casualness she doesn’t feel.

“Maybe I heard something,” Agatha says, voice steady despite the lie. “I’ve got my sources, you know? People talk.”

It’s a weak excuse, and even she knows it. But Rio doesn’t push, not immediately. She just stares at her, the question lingering in the air like a heavy weight.

For a long moment, neither of them speaks. The tension in the car is thick enough to cut with a knife. Agatha feels the weight of Rio’s gaze, the suspicion in it, the uncertainty.

But Agatha’s own mind is swirling too—Why the hell did I say that?

And then, in the silence, Rio finally speaks again, but her voice is quieter now, almost cautious. “If you think I’m part of some game, Agatha… if you think I’m setting you up, then maybe we shouldn’t be doing this anymore.”

With a breath, she meets Rio’s gaze again, the walls going up just enough to hide the fear. “Maybe we shouldn’t,” she says softly, her voice cold, distant. “But I’m not the one who’s been lying.”

Rio hits the wheel with her palm. "What the hell do you think you know, Agatha?”

Agatha doesn’t flinch. She leans forward slightly, eyes narrowed, like she’s sizing up a threat. She knows she’s walking a razor’s edge, but she doesn’t care anymore. The words spill out, a slow burn of accusation, “I know about César. I know about you being involved in those schemes before. You’ve been playing people for years, haven’t you? You’re probably in on something right now, too, and I’m the fucking mark.”

The words come faster now, as if they can’t be held back. “I bet you both have been working with my mother, planning to ruin me from the inside out. I’m not some damn pawn in your game, Rio.” Her voice hardens with the certainty of someone who has finally seen through the façade.

Rio’s face hardens, her eyes flashing with an intensity that could cut through glass. She grips the steering wheel so tightly that her knuckles turn white. Her breath comes in short, sharp bursts, and she stares ahead at the empty road, her jaw clenched.

For a moment, she doesn’t say anything. Agatha feels the heat of her stare, the quiet fury in the air, but she doesn’t back down. She can’t.

And then Rio’s anger breaks through, as her eyes snap to Agatha’s with an intensity that makes Agatha’s breath hitch. “You think you know everything?” Rio hisses, her voice low but seething with anger. “You think I’m in on some scheme? You don’t know shit.”

Her voice trembles with a raw edge as she leans forward, her body tense. “I’ve been hiding César's existence from you, Agatha, because I’ve been protecting you. Protecting you from the shit that man’s done. From the danger he can bring. You think I’m playing some game with you? You’re wrong!” Her eyes are wide with emotion, a vulnerability Agatha hasn’t seen before.

“I didn’t want you to get caught in the middle of it. I didn’t want you to know about him—about what he’s capable of. I thought I was doing the right thing by keeping him away from you. But I see now... it’s all coming back to bite me in the ass. You think I’m using you, but I’ve been trying to protect you from the very thing you’re accusing me of.”

Agatha’s chest tightens, the air growing heavier as the truth slips into the space between them, raw and jagged. For a moment, she doesn’t know what to say.

The accusation in her mind still burns, but now there’s a flicker of doubt. Protecting her? 

Her mind races. Does she really think I’m that naïve?

But then Agatha remembers the whispers. The things she’s heard from Specter, the rumors she’s pieced together with him, the way César’s name has come up in strange places, like a shadow hovering just outside of her line of sight.

She leans back, trying to process, her expression unreadable. “Protect me?” she repeats quietly, but the edge is still there in her voice. “You expect me to believe that? You expect me to trust that you’ve been doing all this out of the goodness of your heart?”

Rio’s eyes flicker for a split second, but she’s quick to pull her composure back into place, her jaw setting. “I didn’t want you involved in the mess that’s been my life. You’re too damn important to get dragged into this shit.”

Agatha watches her closely, feeling the weight of everything hanging between them. She wants to tear through the lies, to rip apart the walls Rio has built, but she also knows this is dangerous ground.

“I’m not some dumb kid, Rio,” Agatha says, her voice steady, despite the storm brewing inside her. “You may be trying to protect me from César, but I’m not sure I can trust what’s coming out of your mouth anymore.”

"It's the fucking truth, Agatha!" Rio screams and Agatha can notice tears forming in her face. "It's the truth, I swear" Rio whispers now, her expression breaking.

Agatha focuses on Rio's expression - her hands shaking, her eyes closing as if holding back the tears. 

Is she telling the truth?

Could it be that all this was fruit of my mind and I'm attacking a person who really just wants me well?

"I don't know if I can trust you" Agatha swallows in dry. "This is too much, I need to think."

"Agatha I-" Rio breathes out. 

"Please take me home." Agatha cuts her off. "I don't wanna look at your face right now."

Rio shakes her head as if denying Agatha's request. But a few seconds later, she composes her back, adjusts herself in the seat, puts her hands on the steering wheel and finally speaks. "Okay, Agatha."

She then starts the car. 

The sound of the engine and the silence surronding them echoes. It's now night time.

Both follow in silence for the rest of the way.

Rio's expression remains frozen, as if she was hiding a pain she hadn't felt in a long time.

Agatha clasps her hands and digs her nails into her own palms.

When Rio parks in front of Agatha's house, she swallows hard and turns her face to look her in the eyes.

With a reticent - but cold - expression she speaks. "For what it’s worth, I’ve always been on your side, Agatha" and turns forward again, breaking eye contact. 

Agatha closes her eyes slowly and reaches out to open the door. She considers not even responding. However, when she opens the door, already with her back to Rio, she murmurs. "Maybe you are. Or maybe you’re just better at pretending than I am.”

And she steps out, closing and slamming the door behind her, the sound feels final, like a wall slamming into place between them.

Rio just keeps staring straight ahead, unmoving, her expression cracking ever so slightly as she’s left alone with the weight of what Agatha just said.

Then, in a way almost too quiet for even herself to hear, she whispers “You think I’m playing you… but-" she runs a hand through her hair "fuck- you’re the only person I don’t know how to play.”

Her voice trembles slightly, the weight of her own admission sinking in. The words hang in the air, like they’re meant for no one but the darkness.

Chapter Text

Debate day.

The lights above the debate stage were blisteringly bright, casting a stark, unforgiving glow over everything. Agatha stood just offstage, smoothing the hem of her tailored navy suit. Her reflection in the mirror backstage showed a poised woman, but inside, her stomach churned.

The debate was being broadcast live on national television, with an audience of hundreds packed into the historic Maryland Theater. She wasn’t just stepping onto the stage to face Cadwell, she was stepping into the spotlight for the whole country to see.

“You’ve got this,” Jen said, handing her a stack of index cards. “Just stick to the facts, hammer his weak points, and don’t let him bait you. Cadwell’s a strong opponent, but he’s also predictable. He’ll lean on charm, try to distract from his record. Don’t let him.”

Agatha nodded, flipping through the cards quickly. Each one listed key talking points: healthcare policy, education reform, environmental issues. But as she scanned them, her eyes caught something odd—a phrase written in small, neat handwriting she recognized immediately.

Her throat tightened. Rio’s handwriting.

“Jen” she said, her voice carefully neutral. “Who wrote these?”

Jen didn’t look up from her clipboard. “I had some notes pulled together from a few different sources in our team. Why?”

Agatha forced herself to breathe evenly. “No reason. Just asking.”

Jen’s phone buzzed, and she excused herself, leaving Agatha alone with the cards. She stared at them, her chest tightening.

Rio was here. Not physically in her corner, but still quietly weaving her influence into Agatha’s campaign, even after their fight. Agatha’s jaw clenched as the memory of their argument resurfaced—Rio’s admission about her father, her evasiveness, and Agatha’s own raw frustration boiling over.

She had told Rio to take her home that night, needing distance, needing clarity. And Rio had respected that, withdrawing from the campaign over the last few days without protest. But now, here were her words, her strategies, slipped into Agatha’s arsenal like a secret weapon.

It was infuriating—and yet, infuriatingly helpful.

“Congresswoman?” A stagehand’s voice jolted her back to the present. “We’re ready for you.”

Agatha squared her shoulders, tucking the cards into her jacket pocket. “Thank you.”

The stage loomed ahead, the roar of the audience muffled behind thick curtains. She could see Cadwell standing at his podium, flashing his signature smile to the crowd. Her pulse quickened.

“Showtime” she muttered to herself as she stepped onto the stage.

The applause was deafening as she approached her podium. She scanned the audience briefly, her eyes darting over the sea of faces. And then she saw her.

Rio.

She was seated a few rows from the front, her dark hair pulled back, her expression unreadable. Agatha’s heart stumbled.

Why was she here? Agatha had made it abundantly clear she needed space. Yet, there Rio was, silently watching, her presence as disruptive as ever.

The moderator’s voice cut through the noise. “Ladies and gentlemen, thank you for joining us for tonight’s Senate debate. Let’s begin.”

Agatha forced herself to focus, gripping the edges of her podium. Her hands dug into the wooden podium harder than they should have. Her fingers beating with impatience and nervousness.

The opening questions were straightforward enough—policy outlines, stances on taxation, rehearsed soundbites. She delivered her answers crisply, sidestepping Cadwell’s attempts to needle her with veiled insults.

But midway through the debate, when the topic shifted to healthcare, she reached for her cards and saw the phrase Rio had written.

Tie his rhetoric to real harm. Name the people he’s hurt.

It was a bold suggestion, and as she scanned the audience again, her gaze briefly locked with Rio’s. Rio nodded as if encouraging her to follow her advice. It was a risky move. She didn't even knew if she should trust Rio or not, much less her words. But those words seemed to look back at her and started to take on weight, urging her forward. She decided to risk it.

Fuck it. Let's play.

Agatha straightened, her voice steady but pointed as she spoke. “Mr. Cadwell loves to talk about responsibility but, let’s talk about what that means in practice. In reality, under his policies, countless families have lost access to affordable healthcare. I met a woman in Baltimore last week whose daughter couldn’t afford insulin because of the cuts he championed. That’s not just a statistic. That’s a life. That’s a mother terrified for her child’s future.”

The audience murmured, and Cadwell’s polished smile faltered. Agatha pressed on, drawing from Rio’s notes, though she hated to admit it.

As the debate progressed and the topic shifted to integrity in leadership, Cadwell’s smile reappeared and sharpened into something predatory. Agatha recognized that shift immediately; this was the moment he’d been waiting for.

“Ms. Harkness,” he began, turning to face her, his voice smooth yet dripping with condescension. “You’ve built your campaign on promises of accountability and transparency. Noble ideals, to be sure. But I wonder if you’ve applied the same rigor to your own past.”

Agatha’s grip on the podium tightened, but she kept her expression neutral.

“You’ve spoken passionately about justice,” Cadwell continued “but I find it curious that you’ve remained silent on the tragic death of Professor Warren. A man you were quite close to, if I’m not mistaken.”

The audience shifted, a murmur rippling through the crowd. The moderator frowned, but didn’t interject.

Agatha’s heartbeat quickened, but she forced herself to stay calm. She met Cadwell’s gaze, refusing to flinch. “I don’t see how that’s relevant to the issues Maryland voters care about, Mr.Cadwell. Professor Warren’s death was a personal tragedy, not a political matter.”

“Oh, but it is relevant,” Cadwell pressed, his tone mockingly sympathetic. “The voters deserve to know the character of the person they’re entrusting with their future. And when a figure like Warren, a respected academic, takes his own life amidst allegations of misconduct—allegations you were involved in—it raises questions. Questions about what you knew, maybe even about... what you did.”

Agatha’s stomach twisted, but she refused to let him see it. “That’s a grotesque mischaracterization,” she said sharply. “If you want to talk about accountability, let’s talk about the policies you’ve supported that underfund education and leave educators vulnerable.”

The audience murmured louder, but Cadwell wasn’t finished. “A deflection,” he said, spreading his hands as if addressing the crowd directly. “You were one of the last people to speak about him -publicly- before his tragic death. Yet, you’ve offered no further clarity about that. If transparency matters, why not start with your own actions? You were only pointing fingers. How do we know what's real?”

Agatha felt the heat rise in her cheeks. The moderator finally stepped in. “Mr.Cadwell, we’re here to discuss policy, not personal attacks.”

Cadwell raised his hands in mock surrender. “Of course. But the voters deserve the truth, don’t they?”

Agatha inhaled. “The truth? If you want to talk about accountability, let’s do it. Not just mine, not just yours, but the accountability of everyone who holds power and how they wield it—especially behind closed doors.”

Cadwell’s smirk faltered slightly, but he stood his ground. The audience leaned in, sensing the air shift.

“My opponent has brought up the Warren Scandal” Agatha continued, locking eyes with Cadwell. “So, I'm not going to sugarcoat this. He was a man I previously respected, but his actions with me were not the most correct. What I said in terms of accusations was distorted by higher forces, however, it does not take away from the fact that he crossed a line. A line that no one in that position should step on.. But let’s be clear—his death wasn’t just the result of personal struggles. It was the result of a system built to crush people who cross those in the shadows. A system that rewards the people pulling the strings.”

The audience murmured in agreement, and Agatha pressed on. “And if we’re talking about pulling strings,” she said, her voice firm but measured, “then we should talk about Evanora Harkness—my mother.”

The room froze. Cadwell’s expression twisted into one of curiosity.

“Yes, my mother is a powerful woman,” Agatha continued. “She’s built her life on control, on influence, on ensuring she’s the one holding the reins. And for years, I tried to reconcile with that, to find a way to separate her actions from my own. But I can’t do that anymore. Not when her decisions represent everything I stand against.”

She paused, letting the weight of her words settle over the crowd. “So, let me be absolutely clear: I am cutting ties with her. Completely. She does not represent me, my campaign, or my values. I don’t care if it costs me politically, because doing the right thing has to come first.”

The murmurs in the crowd grew louder, this time with a wave of approval.

Cadwell, caught off guard, tried to regain control. “Ms. Harkness, this is hardly the forum to air personal grievances—”

“This is exactly the forum,” Agatha interrupted, her voice sharp. “Because this is about leadership. Leadership isn’t about hiding behind your family name or your connections. It’s about making hard choices, even when they hurt.”

The crowd erupted in applause, drowning out whatever retort Cadwell had been preparing. Agatha stood there, scanning the faces in the audience. She caught sight of Rio again, her expression proud.

Taking a deep breath, Agatha turned back to the camera, her voice steady as she delivered her closing thought. “Maryland deserves a leader who will fight for them—not for their own legacy or their family’s interests. And I intend to be that leader.”

Agatha leaned into the microphone, her voice icy. “And, to finish, what the voters deserve is leadership focused on solutions, not cheap theatrics. So, Mr. Cadwell, if you’re so interested in my transparency -one I just gave you- perhaps you’d like to disclose the millions of dollars in dark money funneling into your campaign.”

The crowd erupted, the tension breaking as Cadwell’s smug expression faltered for a fraction of a second. Agatha seized the moment.

“I fight for the people of Maryland, not for the interests of billionaires who bankroll smear campaigns. If you want to talk about accountability, I suggest you look in the mirror.”

The applause was deafening, drowning out Cadwell’s attempt to respond. 

By the time the debate ended, she was exhausted but buoyed by the applause that erupted as the moderator closed the evening. She stepped offstage, the adrenaline still coursing through her veins.

Backstage, Jen met her with a grin. “You crushed it out there. The insulin story? That hit hard. Talking about your own mother? Bold!”

Agatha nodded absently, her thoughts already elsewhere. She wanted to demand more answers from Rio, to ask why she couldn’t just stay out of her life. But she also knew the cards had made her stronger tonight, sharper.

And that realization made her angrier than she could explain.

Agatha strode through the narrow corridor backstage. The applause from the debate still reverberated faintly through the walls. She had made her move, publicly cutting ties with Evanora. The weight of it hadn’t fully sunk in yet, but she was determined to keep her focus sharp.

As she turned a corner toward the private exit, she saw Rio leaning casually against the wall, her arms crossed, a slight smirk playing on her lips.

“Congratulations, Senator,” Rio said smoothly, pushing off the wall with her foot as Agatha approached.

“It’s Congresswoman.” Agatha corrected, her tone clipped, brushing past Rio without slowing down.

Rio followed, falling into step beside her. “Not for long if you keep delivering performances like that. The crowd was eating out of your hand.”

Agatha didn’t respond immediately, her gaze fixed ahead. “Is there something you need, Ms. Vidal?”

Rio’s smirk faltered for a moment, “Just wanted to offer my professional congratulations. That’s all.”

Agatha stopped abruptly, turning to face her. Her expression was icy, unreadable. “Professional, uh? Is that what we’re calling it now?”

Rio’s eyes narrowed slightly, but she kept her tone light. “That’s what you wanted, isn’t it? To keep things... professional.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened. She hated how Rio could sound so unaffected, even when she knew the walls between them had been her own doing. “Well, you’re doing an excellent job. Consider your point taken.”

Rio shrugged, stepping closer. “For what it’s worth, I meant what I said. You handled yourself well tonight. And the Evanora bombshell? Bold move.”

Agatha tilted her head, studying her for a moment. “What are you really doing here, Rio?”

Rio’s expression softened, just for a fraction of a second. “I told you before, I’m here to help. Whether you want that or not... that’s up to you.”

Agatha held her gaze for a long moment, searching for any hint of an ulterior motive. But Rio’s face remained impassive, giving nothing away. Finally, Agatha broke eye contact and started walking again.

“I don’t have time for this” she said over her shoulder.

“Of course you don’t” Rio called after her, her voice tinged with a faint bitterness.

Agatha stopped in her tracks, turning halfway to look back at her. “I don’t trust you, Rio. Not anymore.” Then, she just kept walking away.

Rio’s smirk faded completely, replaced by something quieter, more vulnerable. She whispered, almost to herself,

“I know” 

**

Rio sat in some diner on the edge of town. She’d been here for hours, trying to lose herself in paperwork, phone calls, and endless cups of bitter coffee. None of it worked.

Her mind kept drifting back to Agatha—her stubbornness, the way her voice carried a quiet conviction even when she was furious.

That cold posture Agatha had put up at the debate hadn’t fooled Rio. She saw the cracks, the way her hands trembled ever so slightly when she announced her break from Evanora. Agatha was magnetic. Rio couldn’t ignore her even if she wanted to.

And she had tried. God, she’d tried.

Rio stepped out of the diner, unlocking her car from the distance. She hated this feeling—this gnawing, insatiable need to be near Agatha, to explain, to make her understand. But every time she thought about stepping back into Agatha’s orbit, her father’s words rang in her ears.

Attachments make you vulnerable.

Love is weakness.

Life is about surviving.

“Yeah, and don't I deserve better than that?” Rio muttered to herself, running a hand through her hair.

She just hoped her father could have told her, even once.

"I'm sorry, Rio. I never mean to turn you into this."

But that would be a huge lie. He did meant it. He always meant it. He didn't care how much he hurted people - even if it was his own daughter.

The truth was, she couldn’t take it anymore. The way Agatha had looked at her backstage—like she was just another manipulator, another version of her own father, or worse, another version of Evanora—it burned, so fucking much. Rio wasn’t used to caring what people thought of her. She had built her life around keeping people at arm’s length, ensuring no one could get close enough to hurt her. But.. Agatha? Agatha had slipped through every defense she had.

And now, she couldn’t bear the thought of sensing that Agatha hated her.

Before she could overthink it, Rio threw the car into gear and pulled out of the parking lot. Her chest felt tight, like her heart was caught in a vice, but she ignored it. She needed to see her. To talk to her. To try to make things right, even if it was the last thing she did. Even if Agatha pushed her away for good.

As the lights blurred past her car window, Rio found herself replaying their last conversation. She’d told Agatha the truth about her father—or at least part of it. She should have told her everything, but the words had stuck in her throat. Maybe Agatha was right to doubt her. Maybe she was too much like him.

No.

Rio gritted her teeth. She wasn’t her father. She wouldn’t let herself become him.

When she pulled up outside Agatha’s house, her hands were shaking. The light was on in the living room. Rio sat there for a moment, staring at it, trying to steady her nerves.

“Get it together” she told herself.

Finally, she stepped out of the car.

She walked up to the door, her heartbeat thundering in her ears, and knocked.

The sound echoed in the quiet, and Rio braced herself for whatever was about to come next.

The door finally opened.

"Yeah, nope-" Agatha tried to shut the door again. But Rio intercepted, almost jamming her hand in the crack.

"Wait!" Rio pressed the door and tried to force it open "Oh, fuck"  she glanced at her hand, still feeling the pain of the knock she took on her fingers when it almost closed in on her.

“What are you doing here?” Agatha asked, her voice as cold as the wind.

Rio hesitated. She took her hand off the door. “I needed to see you,” she said “I know I’m probably the last person you want to deal with right now, but I—I just want to lay everything out. No more half-truths. No more omissions. Just the truth.”

Agatha stood there, just folding her arms across her chest. “You mean the truth you should have told me from the beginning?”

Rio winced, but she didn’t look away. “Yes. I- Yeah- That truth.”

Agatha let the silence stretch between them, letting Rio feel the weight of her disapproval. She wanted Rio to squirm, to feel the sting of her disappointment. But even as she stood there, stone-faced, she couldn’t ignore the part of her that wanted to hear what Rio had to say.

Finally, she stepped back, opening the door just wide enough. “Fine,” she said, her tone clipped. “Come in. But make it quick—I’m not in the mood for games.”

Rio nodded, stepping inside. She moved with a carefulness that was unusual for her, as though she were afraid of upsetting the fragile peace between them. Agatha closed the door behind her, leaning against it for a moment before turning to face Rio.

“Well?” she said, her arms still crossed. “Start talking.”

Rio took a deep breath. “I know I’ve given you every reason to doubt me,” she began, her voice steady despite the tension in the room. “But I need you to understand—I’m not here to manipulate you, or to push some hidden agenda. I’m here because I care about you. And because you deserve to know the whole story.”

Agatha’s expression didn’t change, but her fingers tightened against her arms. “Then get on with it,” she said. “No more stalling.”

Rio nodded, stepping further into the room. “I- Ok, alright,” she said quietly. “So”

"Go on."

Rio paced the room for a bit and then she spoke. “My father…” she began, her voice quiet but heavy. “César. He’s…" She stopped, inhaling sharply before turning to face Agatha. “He’s a monster, Agatha. And for most of my life, I was his perfect little project.”

Agatha didn’t respond, but her gaze bore into Rio, unrelenting. 

Rio swallowed hard, her throat tight. “I didn’t grow up with love. Not the kind you read about or see in other families. César didn’t have time for that. He had expectations, rules, tests. Everything was a test for him. If I succeeded, I earned his approval. If I failed…” She trailed off, her eyes darkening with the memory.

“When I was a kid, I thought I could win him over. That if I did everything right—if I was smart enough, ruthless enough—he’d finally see me as more than just another of his projects. So I did whatever he asked. Whatever he... needed.” Her voice cracked slightly, but she pushed on. “Shady deals, manipulation, covering his tracks—things I shouldn’t have even understood at that age, let alone been a part of. But I did them. Because I thought… I thought it was the only way he’d ever love me.”

Agatha’s arms tightened across her chest, her expression unreadable. “And why would I need protecting from him? He's your father, not mine” she spat, her tone cutting.

Rio froze. She looked down, her hands trembling at her sides. “My ex... Elena, she-” she said, her voice barely above a whisper, “she didn’t deserve what happened to her. What he did to her. None of it.”

She took a step closer to Agatha, her eyes shining with a raw, unguarded vulnerability. “Elena and her family were everything my father hated. They were hardworking, honest, they were helping others. Elena was brilliant—she had this fire in her that I envied. She could’ve been anything, gone anywhere. But César…” Rio’s voice wavered, and she had to pause to steady herself.

“He saw her as a threat, I never understood. Maybe he thought it was a good lesson for me. He destroyed her life, Agatha. Falsified documents, planted evidence, and then, he struck some deal to pass a bill and—he had her family deported. Overnight, everything she had was gone. And I—” She broke off, her voice cracking completely. “I didn’t stop him. I tried but- I could have tried sooner... if I wasn't - fuck, if I wasn't too desperate to prove myself to him.”

The silence that followed was deafening, but Rio pushed through it, her words tumbling out in a rush. “And it didn’t stop there. He kept testing me. I cut ties with him that same day, but he kept playing me from afar, making me prove over and over again that I could be just as cold, just as ruthless as him. ”

Rio took a shuddering breath, finally meeting Agatha’s eyes. “I’ve done things I’m not proud of. Things I’ll never forgive myself for. But I’m trying, Agatha. I’m trying to be better. To be more than what he made me.”

Agatha’s expression finally shifted, a flicker of something—pain, anger, or maybe understanding—crossing her features. But she didn’t speak, and the silence stretched on, heavy and unyielding.

“I know you have every reason to hate me,” Rio said, her voice trembling. “But I need you to know… I came here tonight because I couldn’t stand the thought of you not knowing the truth. About me, about him. About everything.”

She took a tentative step closer, her eyes searching Agatha’s face. “I don’t expect you to forgive me. Hell, I don’t even know if I deserve it. But I-” she tried to touch Agatha's arm but she pulled away. "Look, when I saw him at that event, a thousand scenarios went through my mind. Him being there... It wasn't normal. It was another one of his games. He was pressuring me to play. And probably, he was trying to leave a warning that he was going to come for you too. One more of his lessons." 

"Why didn't you tell me?" Agatha asked, still reluctant.

"Because I was afraid," she closed her eyes "fuck, Agatha, I was afraid he could take me to the edge. I was afraid he could drive you away. I was afraid of who I would become if he pushed me."

Rio tried to hold back tears as she opened her eyes but failed. Her gaze was fixed on Agatha, watering. 

Agatha’s gaze dipped to Rio’s trembling hands, clenched tightly in front of her, then back to her face. Her jaw tightened, but then—slowly, as though her body acted before her mind caught up—she reached out.

Her thumb brushed against Rio’s cheek, catching the tear that slipped down. The contact was light, almost hesitant, as if Agatha wasn’t entirely sure she wanted to offer this comfort. 

Rio froze under the touch, her breath hitching, her gaze locking with Agatha’s.

“How do I know you’re not lying?” Agatha whispered, her voice low and sharp, but there was something wounded in it too.

Rio swallowed hard, blinking rapidly as though trying to steady herself. She didn’t pull away. “You don’t,” she admitted, her voice raw. “I can’t erase the things I’ve done. I can’t undo what I kept from you. But, Agatha… I only kept him from you to protect you.  And I can prove that.”

Agatha’s hand lingered for just a second longer before she pulled back, her thumb curling into her palm as if to erase the gesture entirely. “Prove it, then” she demanded, her tone ice cold.

Rio didn’t flinch. Instead, she reached into her pocket and pulled out her phone. Her fingers moved swiftly over the screen, bringing up a set of files and images, and she handed it to Agatha with both hands.

“Here” Rio said.

Agatha hesitated before taking the phone, her brows furrowing as she scanned the screen. It was a web of transactions, emails, and spreadsheets. Numbers jumped out at her, accounts flagged as suspicious, and one name leapt off the page like a slap: César Vidal.

“Your father,” Agatha murmured, her grip tightening on the phone.

Rio nodded, stepping closer, her voice quiet but insistent. “He’s funneling money into Cadwell’s campaign through a network of offshore accounts. It’s laundered, but it’s traceable—barely. I’ve been tracking it since that day. He’s got Cadwell in his pocket.”

Agatha’s eyes widened as she scrolled further, the puzzle pieces falling into place. It wasn’t just about Cadwell. This was bigger. She skimmed over documents that hinted at contracts, backroom deals, promises made to corporations that aligned too perfectly with Cadwell’s platform.

“Why would he care so much about this race?” Agatha asked, her voice almost to herself.

“Because Cadwell’s not just a pawn—he’s a puppet,” Rio said, her tone grim. “César wants him in power because it’ll give him influence over shit that benefits him. That’s his game, Agatha. Always has been. I think Cadwell's planning to go all the way to the top, just like you. César is grabbing him from the start. He's playing the long game.”

Agatha lowered the phone, her expression hardening. “And you’re telling me this now?”

Rio took a step closer, her hands hovering at her sides as though she wanted to reach for Agatha but didn’t dare. “Because I want you to understand.. And I- I’ve been trying to stop him in my own way. But I can't hide this from you anymore.”

Agatha looked back at the phone, her fingers tightening around it. She was silent for a moment, her mind racing, but she finally looked up, her gaze locked on Rio. “If you’re lying…”

“I’m not,” Rio interrupted, her voice steady. “I’m not lying, Agatha. Not about this. Not about anything. I couldn’t stand to see him win, and I couldn’t stand to see him hurt you.”

The silence between them stretched taut, but it wasn’t empty. It thrummed with the weight of everything unsaid, of everything laid bare.

Agatha’s chest rose and fell as she processed what she’d just seen, her emotions warring behind her eyes. Finally, she met Rio’s gaze again, her voice low. “If this is true… then you’re in as much danger as I am.”

Rio gave a faint, bitter smile. “I’ve been in danger my whole life. This is the first time I’ve cared about surviving it.”

Agatha’s lips parted slightly at that, but she didn’t respond. Instead, she set the phone down on the nearby table, her expression unreadable. She stepped past Rio, leaving a charged silence in her wake.

“Agatha?” Rio called, her voice tentative.

Agatha stopped but didn’t turn. “I need time to think.”

Rio nodded. "Okay, I-" 

Her sentence got cut off. A knock thundered against the door, shaking the frame like a battering ram. Agatha and Rio both froze, their breaths caught mid-motion.

Another slam, harder this time, rattled the air between them.

“Agatha!” A voice screamed from the other side, sharp and venomous.

Agatha’s stomach sank. She knew that voice. Evanora.

Rio’s hand instinctively reached for Agatha’s arm, her eyes wide. “What the hell—” she tried to keep Agatha from reaching the door.

“I’ve got this,” Agatha said quickly, her tone clipped. She gestured for Rio to move out of sight. “Go. Get out of the living room.”

Rio hesitated, her jaw tightening, but she obeyed, retreating toward the shadows of the adjacent hallway. Agatha wouldn't let some maniac enter her house, but.. She just stood close. Just in case.

The pounding on the door came again, more frenzied this time. “Agatha Harkness, you open this door right now!” Evanora’s voice was shrill, rage-fueled.

Agatha inhaled deeply, steadying herself, and walked toward the door. Her hand hovered over the handle as she braced herself, her heart pounding in her chest.

She pulled the door open. Evanora’s figure filled the doorway, her expression a storm of anger. She looked every bit the tempest Agatha knew her to be—perfectly composed yet utterly unhinged, her eyes blazing.

“You are not welcome here” Agatha said firmly, her voice cold and steady despite the chaos roiling in her.

“Don’t you dare,” Evanora hissed, stepping closer. “Don’t you dare speak to me like that after what you’ve done!”

“What I’ve done?” Agatha arched a brow, her tone cutting. “You mean cutting ties with a manipulative liar who’s ruined lives and abused her power? Yes, I’d say that’s long overdue.”

Evanora’s face twisted in fury. “You’ve humiliated me. Made a mockery of everything I’ve built. Do you think I don’t know what this is about? Do you think I don’t know that someone’s been feeding information to the press? Who was it, Agatha? Who told them?”

Agatha didn’t flinch. “That’s none of your business. Now leave.”

Evanora’s composure cracked. She surged forward, her hand striking out before Agatha could react. The slap echoed through the room, sharp and brutal. Agatha staggered back a step, her cheek stinging, but her expression didn’t falter.

“Get out of my house,” she said, her voice low and steady, though her pulse raced.

Evanora didn’t listen. She moved closer, her anger boiling over. “You ungrateful brat!” she screamed, her hands grabbing Agatha's collar. “After everything I’ve done for you, this is how you repay me?!” She shaked Agatha while she screamed.

Agatha tried to push her back, her movements defensive, but Evanora’s grip was relentless. "What have you done?!" One violent shove sent Agatha stumbling into the wall, her head connecting with a dull thud. She blinked, dazed, pain blossoming behind her eyes.

From the shadows, Rio’s voice cut through the chaos, sharp and furious. “Enough!”

Both women froze, turning toward the hallway. Rio stepped into the room, walking fast towards the caos. Her expression dark as a storm cloud, her voice cold and deadly. “You want to know who tipped the journalists, Evanora?”

Evanora glared, her hands still clenched. “What did you say?” Rio was almost speeding at her.

“It was me” Rio said, her voice dripping with contempt. “And if you lay another finger on her, you’ll regret it.”

Before Evanora could react, Rio moved. In a blur, she grabbed Evanora by the shoulder, turned her away from Agatha and slammed her backward into the half-open door. The wood groaned under the force of the impact, the sound echoing through the room.

“You think you can waltz in here, hurt her, and get away with it?” Rio snarled, her face inches from Evanora’s. Her hands pinned Evanora's throat against the door, her grip unyielding. “You’re nothing but a bully in pearls, hiding behind your reputation like it’s armor. But guess what? It’s cracking.”

Evanora struggled, her fury now tinged with panic. “Let go of me!” she spat, while trying to get herself free from Rio's hands.

“Not until you hear me,” Rio said, her voice low and lethal. “You can scheme, manipulate, and throw your tantrums all you want, but it’s over. Agatha’s done with you. And now? So is everyone else.”

Evanora’s eyes darted to Agatha, still leaning against the wall, her breathing uneven but her gaze sharp and unwavering. “You let this… this nobody turn you against me?”

Agatha stepped forward, her voice steady despite the faint tremor of pain in her movements. “Rio didn’t turn me against you, Mother. You did that all by yourself.”

Rio’s grip tightened for just a second longer before she released Evanora, shoving her back with enough force to make her stagger. “Get out,” Rio growled.

Evanora straightened, brushing herself off, her composure barely intact. She looked between them, her lips curling into a bitter sneer. “You’ll regret this,” she said, her voice dripping with venom.

“Not as much as you will,” Agatha replied, her voice ice-cold.

"You think I don't know this little pet of your's is César's daughter?" Evanora asked, provoking. "And yet, here she is, wagging her tail for you like a loyal little dog.”

Agatha’s jaw tightened, but before she could speak, Evanora pressed on.

“Do you know what that family is capable of, Agatha? Do you? Or are you just pretending it doesn’t matter because you’re so desperate for companionship?”

Rio stiffened, her shoulders squaring as her eyes narrowed. “Careful,” she said quietly, her voice carrying another warning.

Evanora ignored her. “I’ve done my research. César’s empire is riddled with blood and corruption. And if you think she’s any different, then you’re more foolish than I thought. Do you really think someone like her could—”

“Enough!” Agatha snapped, stepping between them. Her face was pale, her breathing shallow, but her voice was sharp as a blade.

But Evanora wasn’t done. She smirked, taking a deliberate step closer to Agatha. “Or maybe you know. Maybe you don’t care that she’s just as twisted as her father. Maybe you even like it. After all, you’ve always had a taste for chaos," she stared at Rio, pointing her finger "and you, dont act surprised pet, you think I wouldn’t dig into the background of the person hovering so closely around my daughter?”

Before Rio could react, something inside Agatha snapped. Without thinking, her hand shot out, connecting with Evanora’s cheek in a resounding crack.

Evanora stumbled back, her hand flying to her face, her expression one of pure shock.

“Get out,” Agatha hissed, her voice trembling with fury. “Get out of my house. Now.”

For a moment, Evanora just stared at her, stunned. Then, her lips twisted into a bitter smile. “You’ll regret this,” she said, her voice low and cold.

“No,” Agatha said, her voice firm despite the storm in her chest. “I won’t.”

Evanora straightened, smoothing her clothes with an air of forced composure. She shot one last glare at Rio, then turned on her heel and stormed out, slamming the door behind her.

Silence fell over the room, heavy and electric. Agatha exhaled shakily, her hand moving to the back of her head where the dull ache pulsed.

Rio turned to her, her expression softening instantly. “Are you okay?” she asked, stepping closer, her voice quiet but urgent.

Agatha looked at her, her eyes searching Rio’s face. She didn’t answer right away. Instead, she simply nodded, still in pain.

Rio took another tentative step closer, her voice soft but steady. “Agatha…” She reached out.

Agatha turned, her eyes locking onto Rio’s. For a moment, neither of them spoke. Then, Agatha exhaled, taking her own hand to the back of her head.

“She always knows where to hit,” she said quietly, her voice raw.

Rio nodded, her expression soft but her gaze unwavering. “So do you."

Agatha’s heart is still racing from the confrontation, and she's feeling a little shaky. But there's also a strange feeling deep inside her, a feeling she can't quite explain. She looks at Rio, her voice a mix of exhaustion and something else. "I- I'm okay," she says, swallowing hard. "Thanks for..." She trails off, not quite sure what to say.

Rio looks at Agatha, her expression now serious and concerned. "Are you really?" she asks again, reaching out to brush her arm.

She can tell that something is off, that there's more going on here than just a fight with her mother. "You don't seem..." She pauses. Her touch leaves Agatha’s arm "You seem..." Her eyes scan over her, taking in every little detail of her body language, her expression, anything that might give her a clue as to what she's feeling.

Agatha looks down at the floor, avoiding her gaze. She can feel her body reacting, becoming more and more aware of Rio’s presence. She's not sure why, but the combination of the fight with her mother, and now being so close to Rio, is stirring something deep inside her.

Why was Rio so.. protective of her? 

She swallows hard, licking her lips, trying to regain control. "I'm just... I don’t know" she says, her voice barely above a whisper.

Almost instinctively, Rio wrapped her arms around her. It was a tentative, protective embrace-gentle, without hesitation, like she was shielding Agatha from some invisible storm.

Agatha was caught off guard by the contact. But as Rio’s arms tightened slightly, she allowed herself to melt into the warmth. It wasn’t just the physical comfort—it was something grounding.

“I’m here,” Rio murmured against her hair, her voice low and steady. “You don’t have to say anything. Just...”

Agatha inhaled deeply, her senses overwhelmed by the closeness. Rio’s scent—subtle and clean with a faint hint of something earthy—filled her lungs, and for a moment, it was all she could focus on. Her nose brushed against the side of Rio’s neck, a fleeting touch that sent a shiver coursing through both of them.

Rio’s breath hitched, just barely, as she felt the graze of Agatha’s skin against her own. She didn’t pull back, though. Instead, she tightened her hold, her hand lightly pressing against Agatha’s back-and, shortly after, grabbing her blouse. Agatha felt Rio's nails scratching over the fabric.

God.

Agatha’s heart pounded in her chest, her body reacting to her closeness. The press of Rio’s chest against her own, the warmth radiating from her, the steady rhythm of her breathing.

She shifted slightly, her cheek brushing Rio’s collarbone-right in that spot where Rio's shirt was slighty opened. The friction sent a jolt through her that she couldn’t ignore. Her hands, initially hovering uncertainly by her sides, slowly moved up to rest on Rio’s waist. She felt the firm lines of muscle beneath the fabric of her shirt, and her fingers clinged there instinctively, like memorizing the shape of her.

Rio’s voice broke through the haze, soft but tinged with confusion. “Agatha?”

Agatha didn’t answer immediately. Instead, her gaze flicked upward, meeting Rio’s in a moment that felt like it stretched endlessly. Her pulse was racing, and she knew Rio could probably feel it in the way their bodies were pressed together.

“I don’t know what’s wrong with me” Agatha finally whispered, her voice shaky but laced with something vulnerable and raw.

Rio’s brows furrowed, concern flickering across her face. “Nothing’s wrong with you” she said firmly. Her hands changed position and came to rest on Agatha's shoulders now.

Agatha exhaled shakily, her fingers tightening on Rio’s waist.

"Agatha, nothing's wrong w-"

Agatha pulls her by the shirt and kisses Rio midway through her sentence, her lips muffling the words. Rio is surprised at first, her body tense with surprise, but then she feels the kiss, the heat and desire behind it. And suddenly, she's hungry for more. Rio's hands tighten around her, pulling her closer, by the neck. She responds to the kiss with a desperate need.

Her hand rested on Agatha's neck and she pushed her back against the nearest wall. The impact was gentle but firm, padded by Rio's other hand, that quickly was placed on the back of Agatha's head to avoid direct contact with the wall. The sharp intake of breath from Agatha only seemed to spur Rio on.

Agatha broke the kiss for a moment, her chest heaving as she looked up at Rio, her pupils blown wide. “You don’t get it,” she whispered, her voice shaky but layered with heat. “What you did back there... standing up for me... protecting me like that...”

Rio leaned in, her lips brushing Agatha’s jaw, her breath hot against her skin. “Agatha...”

“You made me feel-” Agatha continued, her words faltering as Rio’s lips trailed down to her neck, teasing the sensitive skin there. “Oh, god—you were so... intense.”

"You like it when I'm intense, uh?" Rio asked, teasing. Her mouth continued to explore Agatha's neck. 

Agatha's head fell back, making more room for Rio's mouth in her neck. "It- Oh.. Rio..." she moaned "It drives me insane."

Agatha's leg wrapped around Rio's waist and her hands went down to her ass- pushing her close against her core.

"Does it?" Rio asked, but then, a moan left her lips as she felt Agatha grab her ass and pull her close "Oh- fuck. Agatha..."

"It does." It was now time for Agatha to sink her teeth in her neck. She was biting, sucking, licking. 

"Mhmmm, Agatha what are you-" 

"Shut up," Agatha spoke while licking from her neck to her earlobe. "I need to feel you" she whispered in her ear. 

"Agatha…” she began, but her words were lost in a sharp inhale as she felt Agatha’s hands move again.

“Shhh,” Agatha murmured, her lips still brushing against Rio’s neck. “Let me.”

Her fingers deftly found the button of Rio’s pants, undoing it with ease. She paused for a moment, her eyes locking onto Rio’s. Slowly, tantalizingly, she opened her pants. Agatha slid her hand inside, her palm grazing over the soft fabric beneath.

Rio’s breath hitched, her body tensing at the sensation. “Agatha…” she whispered again, but this time it was more of a plea.

Agatha smirked, her lips curving as her fingers began to move in slow, deliberate circles over the fabric. “You like this, don’t you?” she asked.

Rio’s head fell forward, her forehead resting against Agatha’s shoulder as she let out a shaky exhale. “You’re—oh, God—you’re killing me” she managed, her voice breathless and uneven.

Agatha chuckled softly, her movements steady and unrelenting. “Good,” she murmured, her lips trailing along Rio’s jawline. “You’ve been driving me insane all this time. It’s only fair to return the favor.”

Her fingers pressed a little harder, her rhythm intensifying just enough to draw a gasp from Rio. The sound sent a thrill through Agatha, she could feel her own cunt more and more wet, just from touching Rio.

Without removing her hand from there, she reversed positions- pulling Rio by the collar and against the wall.

Rio’s hands tightened on Agatha’s waist, pulling her even closer. “You’re… a fast learner” she managed between shallow breaths.

Agatha grinned, her teeth grazing Rio’s earlobe before she whispered, “You're a good teacher”

Rio let out a soft moan, her control slipping further with each calculated movement of Agatha’s hand.

Agatha leaned back slightly, her gaze roaming over Rio’s flushed face, her lips parted as she tried to catch her breath. “You’re beautiful like this,” Agatha said softly, her voice carrying a rare vulnerability that cut through the heat of the moment.

Rio’s eyes fluttered open, meeting Agatha’s gaze. For a moment, neither of them spoke, the intensity between them thick and unbreakable. Then, without a word, Agatha leaned in, capturing Rio's lips in a desperate kiss.

Agatha's hand moved with more intention as she kissed her. She could feel her fingers getting wet. Rio's underwear seemed to be getting soaked and now she could feel Rio's folds much better through the fabric.

Fuck, this is -

I want to feel her.

All of her. 

She withdrew her hand in an instant. Rio almost complained but before she could speak, she was cut off by Agatha's soaked fingers in her mouth.

"Hmmm" she moaned. The sound reverberated in Agatha's fingers and she let out a moan too.

"You like to taste yourself?" Agatha teased, pushing her fingers deep in hee mouth while Rio kept licking them.

"Mhmmm, I-" She grabbed Agatha's pulse and licked her fingers clean "I love it," Rio bit Agatha's fingertips and continued "but I'd rather taste you."

Agatha licked her lips, the taste of Rio's kiss still lingering, and said two words, her voice thick with hunger.

“Bedroom. Now.”

Rio blinked, her pupils wide as she processed the command. A dangerous smirk spread across her face before Agatha grabbed her by the collar and crashed their lips together again. They stumbled, their bodies pressed so tightly together it was even hard to move.

Agatha guided them toward the hallway, her fingers tangling in Rio’s hair as their kisses turned frantic, starved. Rio’s hands roamed Agatha’s body, gripping her hips, her back, anything to keep her close. Agatha let out a soft moan as Rio’s teeth grazed her bottom lip, spurring her to push them further toward the bedroom. She pulled Rio by the hem of her, now, very open pants.

They collided with the doorframe, Agatha letting out a breathless laugh before pulling Rio’s face back to hers, their lips meeting again in a kiss so fiery it left them both dizzy. Agatha’s back hit the bedroom door, and she fumbled for the handle- even with her back turned- not willing to break the kiss.

Rio pressed against her, her hands sliding down to Agatha’s thighs and lifting her slightly, earning a gasp that turned into another deep, desperate and wet kiss.

Finally, the door gave way, and they stumbled inside, their mouths still locked together. Agatha pulled back just enough to catch her breath.

Rio kicked the door shut without hesitation, the sound echoing in the room as she immediately captured Agatha’s mouth again. They moved together, their bodies pressing against every surface until they fell onto the bed, tangled, breaths mingling.

Rio pulled back, just far enough to look at her. Her eyes scanned Agatha’s face, from her flushed cheeks to her kiss-swollen lips.

"You’re something else," she murmured, her voice low and teasing, her fingers tracing circles along Agatha’s hip. Her thumb pressing there.

Agatha arched an eyebrow, her lips curving into a sly smirk despite her breathlessness. "Am I?" she challenged, her tone playful but her gaze dark with desire.

Rio leaned down, brushing her lips over Agatha’s jaw, then her neck, her movements maddeningly slow. "Oh, you know you are," she said, her teeth grazing the sensitive spot just beneath Agatha’s ear.

Agatha shivered, her fingers curling into the fabric of Rio’s shirt. Her legs opening just enough to let Rio press herself there. "You talk too much," she murmured, but her voice betrayed how much she was enjoying the attention.

Rio chuckled softly, her breath warm against Agatha’s skin. "Do I?" she teased, her lips trailing lower, her kisses light. She paused just above the neckline of Agatha’s shirt, her fingers dipping beneath the fabric as her eyes flicked up to meet Agatha’s. "Maybe you like it when I do." Rio grinned a little agaisnt Agatha's center. Her leg pressing there.

Agatha let out a frustrated groan, her hips shifting beneath Rio. "Rio…" she warned, her voice heavy with impatience and need.

Rio grinned, clearly enjoying the effect she was having. Her fingers brushed against the hem of Agatha’s shirt, inching it up slowly, teasingly. "Say please," she said, her voice a sultry whisper.

Agatha’s eyes narrowed, but there was no real anger behind her glare—only fire. "You’re insufferable," she muttered, grabbing the back of Rio’s neck and pulling her down for another fierce kiss.

Rio laughed into the kiss, the sound vibrating against Agatha’s lips. "That’s not a please" she quipped, her hands now fully under Agatha’s shirt, her touch sending sparks across her skin.

That touch alone had made Agatha's skin go hot and her nipples hard. And there was a dangerous wetness growing between her thighs.

Rio continued to kiss and lick, from Agatha's neck to the middle of her chest- with the movement, two buttons were already open.

Agatha felt a hand going up to feel her breast. Still on top of the the bra - but even that touch baffled her. 

Rio massaged her breast, gently and then harder. "I still haven't heard a please.."

"Rio... Oh-" Agatha moaned as she felt Rio's grasp on her breast, she massaged it in circles. "I- I won't say it"

"You won't?" Rio's left hand went down between them, and stopped exactly between Agatha's legs. There, she pressed two fingers, and then let them slide up and down. "Maybe... Maybe I should stop then." She teased.

Agatha's cunt was getting wetter and wetter. The movement of Rio's fingers-even over her clothes-seemed to touch exactly the right place. She massaged her clit. Her underwear, now, should be more than soaked. "Rio...Mmmm" 

"What..?" she kept teasing. One hand on her breast and the other doing wonders in her cunt. "God, I can feel how wet you are and I'm not even touching you directly."

She can feel how Agatha is responding to her touch. The way she's arching under her. She want's more.

"Do you want this?" Rio asks, pressing two fingers against Agatha's cunt.

"I- Mhmmm" Agatha squirms under her. She can't take it anymore. "Yes, Rio... Plea-"

Rio cuts her off with a kiss. Her mouth hungry and demanding. She starts to unzip Agatha's pants, her fingers fumbling with the buttons in her haste. She wants to feel her, to touch her, to make her come. Rio pulls back for a moment, her eyes dark and intense as she looks down at her.

"I want to taste you," she whispers, her voice rough with desire. "You have no idea how badly I want you right now."

"I need you. Now." Agatha responds, her gaze fierce.

Rio's fingers now hooking under the waistband as she starts to pull them down Agatha's thighs. It reveals a huge wet stop in Agatha's panties. She smirks and her index finger traces a line over the stain.

"Mmmmm, fuck"

When she's done, she moves back up, her mouth moves to her neck, kissing and biting at the soft skin, marking her. Rio's body is coiled with desire, her movements becoming more and more urgent as she feels the heat between them building.

She rips Agatha's blouse. Gaining a "Rio- What-" and then a moan. Rio is now kissing at the side of Agatha's breast.

"You're so beautiful" she whispers, her breath hot against her chest.

Agatha is also starving. She inverts positions. 

She moves to straddle Rio, her body pressed close against her core as she leans down to kiss her. Her hands slide over her sides, her touch possessive. She wants to take back some of the control, to make Rio feel just as desperate and needy as she is right now. "I want you," she whispers, her voice low and sultry. "All of you." She moves in her laps, back and foward. Slowly.

"Agatha...Hmmm" Rio moans in her mouth.

She can feel how turned on Rio is. She's determined to drive her wild. "I want to make you feel good" she whispers, in Rio's mouth. 

Agatha's hand moves lower, her fingers tracing over Rio's stomach, her touch teasing and light. "I want to hear you say my name," she whispers, her breath hot against Rio's skin. "I want to hear you moan my name as I make you come." 

Her hand stops at the waistline, just teasing. 

But Rio doesn't let her play too much. She comes back up, standing at the same height as Agatha, who is still on her lap. Her hands fly to the bra clasp and snap it open. Leaving Agatha's breasts visible - at the level as her mouth.

Without thinking twice, she takes them in her mouth. Her hands are now fixed on Agatha's back, digging her nails there. She sucks, and sucks and sucks. Agatha lets out moans and she can feel her underwear rubbing against her waist - where her shirt is slightly lifted, leaving skin visible. Agatha's panties are so wet that it leaves stains on her belly whenever they rub against it.

Agatha grins, her eyes locked down on Rio, just there, sucking her breasts. She takes her hand to Rio's hair, grabbing it, as if encouraging her to suck more. "Oh... God, Rio. You're so good"

"Yeah?" Rio whispers, still with her nipple in her mouth. Her teeth graze against it. "You like it?" she bites, then sucks, gently. 

Agatha gasps as Rio's mouth closes over her breast, her back arching as pleasure ripples through her. "Yes.. Mmmm" she moans, her fingers tangling in Rio's hair, holding her close. "I want you, I need you. Don't stop." Her body is on fire, her skin flushed and sensitive, and every touch from Rio is driving her insane. 

Agatha's hands reach for Rio's shirt, pulling it over her head, revealing her bare skin- of course, she's not wearing a bra. She pushes her back onto the bed.

"I want to see you," she whispers, her voice rough with desire. "I want to touch you everywhere." She moves in her lap and pulls Rio's pants down, slowly exposing more and more of her body to her gaze.

She pulls back for a moment, her eyes roaming over Rio's body, taking in every inch of her. There's a hint of uncertainty in her gaze, a hesitance that Rio recognizes. She's never been with a woman, and she's not entirely sure what to do. "Tell me what to do" she whispers. "Teach me how to make you feel good."

Rio smiles. "There's no right or wrong way to do this. Just listen to your body, and listen to mine." She leans up on her elbows, pulling Agatha down to meet her in a soft, lingering kiss. "You're doing great so far," she whispers, her breath warm against her lips. "Just keep touching me, and I'll guide you through the rest."

She then pulls off her own panties. She pulls Agatha to her lap again. Her hands move down to her waist, her touch gentle but firm as she guides Agatha's body against hers, grinding.

"Like this," she whispers, as she lies back down again. "Just follow my lead, and do what feels right." She lets out a soft moan as she feels Agatha's cunt touch hers, her body trembling under her grinning. "Yes, just like that." 

"Mmmm, this feels-" Agatha moans while she feels her cunt slide up and down over Rio's clit. 

They stay like this for a while. Her pussy sliding again and again over Rio's.

Agatha's moves down and is now with her mouth all over Rio's chest, her hands exploring her body, her touch hungry and curious. She pauses for a moment, kissing and sucking at one of her nipples, her tongue flicking over the sensitive peak. Rio moans, her body arching up towards Agatha's, her hands moving to her hair, gripping it tightly as she surrenders to the sensations. "Yes," she gasps, her voice ragged with pleasure, "oh god yes, just like that."

Agatha smirks. "Hmmm, you like it baby?" 

Rio gasps and smiles at the pet name. "I- Oh... Yes, Agatha. You're doing so good." While she responds, Agatha sucks harder. Her hands cupping her breasts. She leaves one nipple and takes on the other one. Leaving it with a "pop" sound. 

Her fingers play with the other nipple. Agatha pulls and flicks it - just like she learned from Rio. She moans while she sucks - which makes Rio even more turned on. 

Rio's eyes lock on Agatha's as she starts to move down on her body. Her hands grip the sheets, her body filled with anticipation. "You don't have to -" she starts to say, but the words die in her throat as Agatha's mouth continues its southward journey. Her breath hitches, her body responding to every touch and kiss. 

Agatha lifts her head from her belly and looks at Rio. "I wan't to, Rio" and she kisses her, hard. Their tongues dance. They moan. They kiss so desperately.

She then continues her trail down.

Agatha's mouth reaches its destination, her tongue tracing over Rio's most sensitive spot, causing her to gasp and arch her back. She licks her clit, like she's testing her reactions. Rio moans, her hands gripping the sheets even tighter as pleasure shoots through her body. "You taste amazing," Agatha whispers, her voice a low, hot whisper. Her tongue continues to move over her, tasting and exploring, as she continues to make Rio squirm and moan beneath her.

Her mouth is going relentless, her movements grow more and more insistent as she continues to please Rio. She licks her folds, very slow. Her hands move to Rio's waist, holding her in place as she works, her tongue dancing over her skin, sending shivers of pleasure through her body. Rio moans, her voice growing louder and more desperate.

"Fuck, Agatha..." Rio moans. 

"Mhmm, you're so wet for me." Agatha whispers, against her cunt. Then, she sucks her clit, slowly. She's tasting it. 

Her tongue traces a line from the bottom to the top. 

"Put it inside" Rio gasps. 

"My tongue?" 

"Y- yes" Rio answers as she squirms. 

"Oh.. Okay" Agatha's tongue makes its way to her entrance. It stays there for a while, drawing circles. She feels Rio's cum in her mouth, and savors every bit. 

After playing and making Rio moan with anticipation, she finally enters. She sticks only the tip of her tongue first. Gaining another moan from Rio. 

Then, she slowly starts to shove more and more. Her tongue goes in and out, pulling more and more liquid with it. Rio moves her hips as if to help her tongue going back inside. 

"Agatha..." 

"Fuck, Agatha" 

"Yes. Yes. Just l-like t-that"

"Oh, don't s-stop"

With so much feedback, Agatha doesn't even think twice before sticking two fingers directly into Rio's entrance. Which made her moan even louder and continue to move her hips in order to press them deeper. "Oh my g-god" 

Agatha continues pumping two fingers inside her-while looking her in the eyes. Rio seems to be pleading with her gaze. "C-curl them u-up" Agatha does.

"Oh, yes...Keep going" Rio moans louder. 

Agatha keeps pressing on her G spot. She can feel even more liquid coming from there. She loves it. 

God, is this what it feels like to fuck a woman?

She's so turned on for me.

I'm so turned on for her. 

I could do this forever. 

Rio's voice pulls her back from her thoughts. "A-Agatha. Please. Mouth"

"Do you want to come in my mouth, beautiful?" She asks, while pushing her fingers in and out. 

"Y-yes. Mmmmm" Rio squirms. 

Agatha smirks and pushes her fingers deeper before placing her mouth again on her cunt. 

She sucks on her clit while wagging her fingers inside. The sound of how wet Rio is... is like music to her ears. She starts to push harder, to suck with more intention. Her tongue traces zigzag patterns, circles, licks her folds and sucks on them.

"I- Oh"

"Agatha-"

"Oh my god"

"I'm gonna-" 

Agatha smirks. She whispers, while still licking her. "Come," another lick "for" another "me". Rio moans loud. 

"I want-" she sucks on her clit while she curls her fingers inside "-you to come in my mouth," she licks her folds "Please, Rio."

Listening to Agatha pleading for her to come in her mouth was Rio's end. 

She can feel so much liquid forming inside her- threatening to come out. She tries to contract so that it doesn't happen, but Agatha's fingers touching her G-spot don't exactly help.

"Agatha-"

"Oh, I'm gonna come all over you-"

"No, Agatha, don't-"

When Agatha pushes her fingers deep and shakes them, accompanied by a sucking on her clit, she comes.

"Fuuuck" Rio screams, squirting all over Agatha's mouth. 

Agatha smirks, still licking her. She takes off her fingers and helps her ride out the orgasm with just her tongue. 

She's filled with cum. Her mouth, her cheeks. She doesn't care. She loves it. 

Rio keeps coming. 

"I- fuck, sorry" she lets out in between moans.

"For what?" Agatha licks her from the bottom to the top, making her legs shake. 

"For-"

"Coming all over my face?"

"Y-yeah"

"You taste amazing. You can do it anytime." And she places her mouth in her cunt until she licks her clean.

"Mmmm, you're gonna make me come again if you keep doing that." Rio moans, still shaking. 

"Well, I have time." Agatha smirks. 

Chapter Text

They are tangled in each other in bed. Rio breathes heavily. 

"Was it... good?" Agatha asks, reluctantly.

"Good? Agatha you were... Gosh, I-" Rio is still breathing heavily. 

She came the first time.

Then, she came a second time. 

Then, Agatha kept pumping her fingers inside her until she got so sensitive she couldn't take it anymore. When Agatha started sucking her clit again, she trembled so much she had to ask her to stop because of how hard she just came.

"I think you did an amazing job," Rio pulls Agatha in her arms and kisses her cheek. "As you can see, I'm literally... fucked."

Agatha didn't seem convinced. What if Rio was forcing reactions? Sure, during, she thought she was getting good feedback. But now, in the aftermath, her head seemed to spin with so much thought.

Agatha shifted slightly, her head now resting on Rio’s chest, trying to push those feelings away. Was she, insecure? She was never worried about her sexual performance. Well.. with men, at least. 

Agatha trailed her fingers lazily over Rio’s stomach, her nails just barely grazing the skin. The room was quiet except for their breathing, still uneven but beginning to steady.

Rio’s hand found its way into Agatha’s hair, gently combing through it.

“You’re overthinking,” she murmured, her lips brushing Agatha’s forehead.

“I’m not” Agatha replied, her voice soft but not entirely convincing.

Rio chuckled, her chest vibrating against Agatha’s cheek. “Liar.”

Agatha propped herself up on one elbow, looking down at Rio. Her hair was tousled, her lips still slightly swollen from their earlier intensity. She was breathtaking in a way that made Agatha’s stomach twist and flip, even now.

Fuck, she's...

What a perfect sight.

“I’m just...” Agatha started, tracing the edge of Rio’s collarbone with her fingertips. “I don’t know. You’ve been with women before. A good amount of women, maybe? I just—”

Rio’s brow arched, and a teasing smile tugged at her lips. “Are you fishing for my body count?”

“No!” Agatha said quickly, then faltered. “I mean, maybe- I- Not really. I just…” She exhaled, flopping onto her back beside Rio, her hands covering her face. “I don’t know why I care so much. I just want to know if I was... enough.”

Rio turned onto her side, leaning over Agatha. She gently pried Agatha’s hands away from her face, pinning them to the bed with a playful but firm grip. “You’re seriously asking me that?” Her voice was low, almost a growl.

Agatha met her gaze, trying to look defiant but failing as her cheeks flushed. “I am.”

Rio leaned closer, her lips brushing Agatha’s ear. “You wrecked me” she whispered.

Agatha’s breath hitched, and she tilted her head to look at Rio, her expression a mix of surprise and something else. “I did?”

Rio smirked, her thumb brushing over the pulse point on Agatha’s wrist. “Oh, you did. And for the record,” she added, her tone more serious now, “whatever number you’re imagining doesn’t matter. None of them mattered.”

Agatha swallowed, her chest tightening at Rio’s words. “You’re really saying that? After—”

“After you completely ruined me in the best way possible?” Rio interrupted, her grin widening. “Yes, I’m saying that.”

Agatha’s lips curved into a small smile, but she still looked uncertain. “You don’t think I’m being ridiculous?”

“I think you’re being human,” Rio replied, releasing Agatha’s wrists and sliding her hand down to lace their fingers together. “And for the record, it’s not about how many women I’ve been with. It’s about the way you make me feel.”

Agatha’s smile widened, and she leaned up, capturing Rio’s lips in a soft kiss. When they pulled apart, she whispered, “I just- I don’t want to disappoint you.”

“You couldn’t even if you tried,” Rio said, her voice warm and sure. She leaned down to press a kiss to the corner of Agatha’s mouth, then her jaw, then her neck, making her giggle softly. “But if you’re really worried… you could always try to ruin me a little more.”

Agatha laughed, finally relaxing against Rio. “Oh, I plan to.”

"Yeah?" Rio lifted her brow. 

"Mhmmm" Agatha reassured. 

"Good to know. But-" Rio climbs on top of Agatha, each elbow to the side of her head "-my turn, Congresswoman," she murmured, her lips now grazing the sensitive skin of Agatha’s neck.

Agatha’s breath hitched, her body arching slightly beneath Rio. “Rio…” she whispered, but it came out more like a plea than a protest.

“Yes?” Rio asked, her tone dripping with teasing as she trailed her lips down Agatha’s collarbone, her right hand now slowly tracing patterns along her waist.

Agatha tried to focus, but Rio’s touch was maddening. Every kiss, every graze of her hands, sent heat coursing through her veins. “I need to-" Rio sucked her skin and she moaned " I need tell you something,” she managed to get out, her voice shaky.

Rio chuckled, her lips hovering over Agatha’s breast now, her breath warm against her skin. “Can it wait?” she teased, flicking her tongue lightly over her nipple, making Agatha gasp.

“No,” Agatha insisted, her hands gripping Rio’s shoulders, though her resolve was rapidly melting under Rio’s attention. Rio's mouth was now fully on her nipple. “It’s—oh, God—it’s important.”

“Mmhmm,” Rio hummed, while sucking her nipple slowly, clearly not giving her words much weight as she should. She then kissed her way down Agatha’s stomach, slow and deliberate, her hands firmly holding Agatha’s hips in place.

“Rio,” Agatha said again, more firmly this time, though her body betrayed her as her hips involuntarily lifted toward Rio’s touch.

Her mouth. 

So wet. 

The trail of kisses.

Her teeth.

Grazing against her skin.

Rio finally paused, her lips brushing just above Agatha's waist. She glanced up, her eyes glittering with amusement. “You’re really going to make me stop right now, aren’t you?”

Agatha nodded, breathless, her face flushed. “I need to tell you something”

Rio groaned dramatically, but she pushed herself back up, sitting on her heels between Agatha’s legs. “Alright, Congresswoman. You have my attention,” she said, her voice still dripping with playful sarcasm.

Agatha took a deep breath, her chest rising and falling rapidly. “I… I called Specter,” she admitted, her voice trembling slightly.

Rio tilted her head, not quite understanding at first. “Specter? That name- Oh, that lawyer big shot?”

“Yes,” Agatha said, her gaze darting away. “I asked him to.." she inhaled "dig into your past.”

For a moment, Rio just stared at her, processing the words. Then, her brows shot up. “You did what?"

Agatha swallowed hard, heat rising in her cheeks. “I needed to know if I could trust you,” she said quickly, the words tumbling out in a rush. “I wasn’t sure- I- I needed to know.”

Rio’s expression darkened, her smirk replaced by something sharper, more dangerous. “You had someone dig into me?” she repeated, her voice low and incredulous.

Agatha nodded, her lips parted as she tried to explain herself, but Rio leaned down abruptly, silencing her with a rough, biting kiss. She got Agatha's bottom lip so hard.

“You don’t trust me, huh?” Rio murmured against her lips, her hands sliding down Agatha’s arms and pinning them above her head. “You think you can just pry into my life and get away with it?”

“I—” Agatha tried to speak, but Rio’s teeth grazed her neck, cutting her off with a sharp intake of breath.

“You’ve got some nerve, Congresswoman,” Rio continued, her voice dripping with mockery as her lips trailed down Agatha’s throat. “You want to know all my secrets? Fine.” Her teeth nipped at Agatha’s collarbone, and she smirked at the gasp it elicited.

“Rio…” Agatha’s voice was barely a whisper, her body writhing beneath Rio’s hold.

“Oh, Congresswoman, you don’t get to talk right now,” Rio said, her hands slipping under Agatha’s hips, gripping them firmly. “You’re going to take whatever I give you, and you’re going to enjoy every second of it.”

Agatha’s breath came in short, sharp gasps, her protests melting into moans as Rio’s mouth and hands explored her body with punishing precision.

“I should make you beg for it,” Rio said, her voice low and wicked as her hand slid between Agatha’s thighs. “But I think you’ve already learned your lesson.”

Agatha arched into her touch, her head falling back against the pillows as a broken moan escaped her lips. “Rio…”

“Shhh” Rio hushed her, her lips curving into a satisfied smirk. “Next time you want to know something about me, Congresswoman, maybe try asking first.”

Agatha’s breath hitched as Rio’s fingers moved with a deliberate slowness, teasing and coaxing her until her body was trembling beneath her. “Rio… I—”

Rio’s lips quirked into a smirk as she pressed a featherlight kiss to Agatha’s parted lips. “What’s that? You need something?” Her voice was maddeningly calm, in stark contrast to the intensity of her touch.

Agatha’s hips bucked against her hand, her patience shredded. “Don’t tease me,” she gasped, her nails digging into Rio’s back.

Rio's hand was just there, teasing in between her thighs. Her fingertips slowly brushing her legs, but never quite reaching her center.

Rio chuckled low, her teeth grazing Agatha’s lower lip before kissing her deeply. Her hand pressed more firmly, circling exactly where Agatha needed her the most. But still, so... slowly.

“You think you can just pull something like that and not deal with the consequences?” Rio murmured against her lips, her tone half-teasing, half-dangerous.

“I was trying to protect myself,” Agatha managed between moans, her legs trying to wrap around Rio’s waist, pulling her closer. “And—God, Rio—look at you now. You’re impossible to trust.”

Rio’s eyes darkened, her smirk widening. “Oh, I’m impossible to trust?” She pressed her fingers harder against Agatha’s clit, making her cry out. “Coming from the woman who was digging into my life while I was protecting hers?”

Agatha whimpered, her body twisting under Rio’s touch, but her words were sharp even through the haze of pleasure. “I—oh, fuck—" she could feel her cunt releasing cum with each touch "I- I needed to be sure.”

“And are you sure now?” Rio asked, her voice silky as she kissed her way down Agatha’s neck, leaving a trail of fire in her wake.

Agatha nodded weakly, her hands tangling in Rio’s hair as she gasped for air. “Yes… yes, I’m sure…”

Rio smiled against her skin, her mouth hovering just above Agatha’s collarbone. “Good. Because this—” Her hand shifted, her fingers finding their way in, making Agatha gasp. “—is me being very honest with you.”

Agatha let out a sharp moan, her body arching into Rio’s touch. “You’re—ah—so… infuriating…”

Rio chuckled darkly, her lips pressing against Agatha’s flushed skin. “And you love it.” She pushed her fingers deeper.

Agatha didn’t respond, she couldn’t. Her words dissolved into incoherent sounds as Rio worked her, pushing her closer and closer to the edge.

“Say it,” Rio murmured, her voice low and commanding. She was now pumping her fingers firmly. “Say you trust me.”

“I…” Agatha’s nails raked down Rio’s back, her body trembling violently. Rio fucked her hard, her fingers filled with cum “I- Oh, Rio...” 

"Say. It." She sped up her movements. The fingers went in and out. Each pump stronger than the last one.

"Oh, fuck" Agatha moaned. "Rio, I swear I-" her back arched and she could feel Rio was making it on purpose. 

"Hmm? You what?" Rio curled up her fingers and shook them in her G-spot. 

"I- R-Rio, Fuck. I t-trust y-you" Agatha managed to let out in between moans and hard thrusts.

"Good girl."

The moment the words left her lips, Rio didn’t hold back. She claimed her completely, her movements precise and relentless. 

Strong thrusts. 

In and out. 

Agatha was dripping all over the bed.

Rio then sat up, her fingers sliding along Agatha’s sides, gripping her waist with a possessive strength that sent shivers through her.

“Turn over.” Rio commanded, her voice low and rough, leaving no room for hesitation.

Agatha obeyed, her breath catching as she felt the cool air against her back and the searing heat of Rio’s hands guiding her into position. Her knees dug into the mattress, and her elbows braced against the pillows, her heart pounding wildly in her chest.

“Yes, just like that” Rio murmured, her tone both teasing and reverent. Her palms skimmed over Agatha’s curves, squeezing her ass and kneading as she adjusted her position. “You look so good like this…”

Agatha bit her lip, her body taut with anticipation as Rio’s hands explored her. She arched her back slightly, pressing herself into Rio’s touch, she slowly grazed her ass against Rio's waist, and a soft moan escaped her lips.

“Impatient, are we?” Rio teased, leaning down to press a lingering kiss to the curve of Agatha’s spine. Her hands slid lower, gripping firmly as she pulled Agatha back toward her, aligning their bodies.

Agatha whimpered as Rio’s touch grew bolder, her movements slow and deliberate. The teasing was maddening. Every brush, every squeeze, every deliberate shift of Rio’s hands left her trembling. “Rio…” she gasped, her voice breaking.

“Hmm?” Rio’s voice was a dangerous whisper against her ear as she leaned forward, her teeth grazing Agatha’s shoulder and placing a wet kiss there. “Tell me- Tell me what you want.”

Agatha’s breathing grew ragged “I want- I need you…”

“Like this?” Rio punctuated her question with a firm motion, pushing Agatha's back and pinning her in all 4's. Her grip now firm in her hair.

Agatha cried out, her body jerking in response. “Yes, fuck” she rasped, her voice raw with need.

“Say it,” Rio demanded, her movements becoming more insistent, her hand pulling her hair slightly.

“I need you,” Agatha whimpered, her voice barely audible. 

Rio slapped her ass hard. 

Well, that's gonna leave a mark.

"Beg," she said, while she massaged her ass after slapping it.

"Fuck-"

Rio kept massaging it. Slighty making her cheeks reveal her cunt and slowly brushing her thumb on her wet folds. 

"P-please" Agatha moaned.

Satisfied, Rio began to move, her touch both precise and consuming, setting a rhythm that drove Agatha wild. She grabbed her ass with her left hand and her right hand fingers made their way in. Slowly. 

Agatha was going insane. 

The sounds filling the room were primal, unrestrained—the creak of the mattress, the ragged breaths, the soft moans and sharp cries that spilled from Agatha’s lips.

Rio’s hands stayed firm on Agatha’s hips, guiding her, controlling her. “That’s it,” she murmured, her voice low and thick with desire. Her thrusts stronger now. “Let go for me.”

Agatha's cunt clenched around her fingers. And she did let go.

Her body responded to Rio’s every touch, every command, her mind blank except for the overwhelming sensation of being utterly consumed by her. She could feel the tension building, a fire coursing through her veins that threatened to consume her entirely.

Rio leaned forward. Her hand made its way to grab Agatha's neck and pull her up and against her chest.

Her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear as she grabbed her throat and whispered, “All wet for me, so good. So well behaved.”

The words sent Agatha over the edge. She pushed herself down agaisnt Rio's fingers. Her cunt drowning with need.

"Rio- Fuck, don't stop"

"Oh, god- I'm gonna-"

"Yes. Yes, fuck me- harder"

"Mhmmm, Rio, you're gonna make me cum"

"P-please, please"

Rio felt Agatha's cunt squeeze with every movement, she could feel cum dripping on her fingers. But, just one last push. She took her hand from Agatha's throat and brought it down, leaving Agatha now leaning against her chest and with her head lying on her shoulder.

Perfect position to moan in her ear and help ride out orgasm.

Her hand made its way to Agatha's clit, now rubbing and circling it. 

Rio moaned in her ear while she fucked her with both hands. Agatha moaned at every pump.

She was so, so close. 

"Just like that, you're taking me so well" Rio praised. "Come for me," she sped up both hands. "Now."

Agatha moaned so loud. She sat in her fingers like with was the last thing she might do on this earth.

"Rio..."

"Rio- I"

"I'm coming"

"I'm c-coming for you, Rio"

"Only f-for y-you"

"Fuuuck"

And Agatha exploded.

Her whole body... God, so weak. 

Rio didn’t stop until Agatha collapsed against the mattress, her body spent and trembling. Even then, she leaned down, pressing soft, lingering kisses to her back and shoulders. “Still worried about disappointing me?” she teased gently, her voice warm and affectionate.

Agatha let out a breathless laugh, turning her head to look at Rio over her shoulder. “You’re… impossible.”

Rio smirked, brushing a damp strand of hair from Agatha’s face. “I am, indeed.”

Rio kissed Agatha’s temple softly as she held her, their breaths mingling in the stillness. “Now that,” she murmured, her tone lighter, “is what trust feels like.”

Agatha managed a breathless laugh, her head resting against Rio’s chest. “You’re insufferable,” she said, though her voice was warm.

“And yet,” Rio teased, brushing a stray strand of hair from Agatha’s face, “you’re in bed with me.”

Agatha smirked, pulling Rio down for another kiss. “For now.”

Rio raised an eyebrow, smirking back. “Oh, Congresswoman. You won’t be able to let me go.”

**

Agatha stirred first, her body still deliciously sore from the night before. She blinked slowly, the world coming into focus as she felt the steady warmth of Rio pressed against her back, an arm draped protectively over her waist.

For a brief, surreal moment, Agatha let herself relax into the sensation. It was unfamiliar, waking up next to someone like this. Waking up next... to a woman.

There was a strange comfort in Rio's presence—a weight that grounded her, even as her mind began to race with everything that had happened.

“Morning,” came Rio’s groggy voice, her breath warm against Agatha’s shoulder.

Agatha turned slightly, meeting Rio’s sleepy gaze. “Morning.” Her voice was softer than usual, and it caught even her off guard.

Rio stretched lazily, the sheets slipping down to reveal her toned shoulders and collarbone. “I didn’t mean to crash here,” she murmured, her lips curving into a sheepish smile. “Guess I was more tired than I thought.”

"Oh, it's oka-"

Agatha’s response was cut off by her own phone buzzing loudly on the nightstand. Agatha groaned softly, reaching over to grab it.

When she saw the name flashing on the screen, her stomach tightened.

Henry Linz

She sat up, the sheets pooling around her waist as she stared at the screen.

“What is it?” Rio’s voice was husky with sleep. She propped herself up on one elbow, her dark eyes narrowing as she noticed Agatha’s expression.

“Nothing,” Agatha said quickly, sliding out of bed. “Just… someone I need to deal with.”

She grabbed some shirt from her chair and answered the call, stepping out of the room and closing the door behind her.

“Henry,” she said, her tone clipped.

“Agatha,” his voice came through, smooth as ever but with an edge that immediately put her on guard. “Good morning. I saw the yesterday's debate. Very impressive.”

She rolled her eyes, already irritated. “Cut to the chase, Henry. Why are you calling me?”

“I wanted to congratulate you,” he said, a hint of amusement in his tone. “And to offer a… proposition.”

“Not interested,” she said flatly. "I told you already, I don't want-"

“Not even if it could help you connect a few dots?” he countered smoothly. “Come on, Agatha. I know you’re smart enough to realize Cadwell isn’t your only problem.”

Her grip on the phone tightened. “What are you talking about?”

“Let’s just say,” he continued, “I have information that could be very useful to you. About Evanora. About Warren. About how it all ties together.”

Agatha’s pulse quickened despite herself. “Why should I trust you?”

“Valid point,” he said lightly. “But trust isn’t the point here. Necessity is. You need me, Agatha, whether you like it or not. And if you’re smart, you’ll hear me out.”

“And what’s in it for you?” she demanded.

There was a pause, then his tone turned colder. “One date. With you. Just that.”

Her stomach twisted at the veiled proposition. “You’re unbelievable.”

“You’ll see I’m right to ask for it” he said smoothly. “Call me when you’re ready to talk. And Agatha? Don’t take too long. Time isn’t on your side.”

She hung up abruptly, the sound of his voice still echoing in her mind as she turned to find Rio leaning casually against the hallway wall.

Rio’s expression was unreadable, but her eyes were sharp as they tracked Agatha’s every movement. “Who was that?”

Agatha hesitated. “My ex”

Rio’s brow furrowed. “I'm sorry?”

“Henry” Agatha said, brushing past her and heading toward the kitchen. “He claims he has information about Evanora and Warren.”

Rio followed her, her tone sharp. “And you believe him?”

“I don’t know,” Agatha admitted, grabbing a glass of water. “But if he does…”

Rio crossed her arms, her jaw tightening. “You shouldn’t even be talking to him.”

Agatha looked up, surprised by the edge in her voice. “Are you jealous?”

Rio’s laugh was short and humorless. “Jealous? No. I just don’t think you should trust someone out of the blue. Let alone your ex.”

“Neither do I,” Agatha said evenly. “But I don’t have the luxury of ignoring potential leads, even if they come from him.”

Rio shook her head, her frustration evident. “Be careful, Agatha.”

Agatha exhaled, her mind racing. “I can handle him.”

“I’m sure you think you can,” Rio said, her tone softer now. “But just… don’t let him pull you into any games. You’ve got enough to deal with.”

Agatha set her glass down, her eyes meeting Rio’s. For a moment, the tension between them shifted, turning into something unspoken and heavy.

“I’ll be fine,” Agatha said quietly, but she wasn’t sure if she was trying to convince Rio or herself.

Agatha set her glass of water down on the counter, her thoughts racing as she felt Rio’s eyes boring into her.

“What does he want in return?” Rio asked, her voice calm but carrying an unmistakable edge.

Agatha turned, her expression neutral. “Why would you assume he wants something?”

Rio raised an eyebrow, leaning against the counter. “Your ex doesn’t just call you out of the blue unless he has an agenda. Trust me, I know the type.”

Agatha hesitated, biting the inside of her cheek. She hated how perceptive Rio could be. For a fleeting moment, she considered brushing it off, but then the memory of the previous night—of their intimacy, their confessions—stopped her. She wasn’t hiding things from Rio anymore.

“He…” Agatha took a breath, her voice steady but low. “He said he’d give me the information I need… in exchange for a date.”

Rio’s expression didn’t shift immediately, but her jaw tightened, and her fingers gripped the edge of the counter. “A date?”

Agatha nodded, watching Rio carefully.

“With you,” Rio clarified, her tone sharp now, though she was clearly trying to keep her cool.

“Yes,” Agatha said simply, her voice even, though her chest tightened at the tension thickening between them.

Rio pushed off the counter, standing straighter now. Her dark eyes were intense, searching Agatha’s face. “And you’re considering it?”

Agatha’s lips parted, but the words didn’t come right away. She shifted uncomfortably under Rio’s scrutiny. “I haven’t decided anything yet. But if he really has something—”

“That’s bullshit,” Rio cut in, her voice low but filled with heat. “If he has something, he should just give it to you. This isn’t a negotiation.”

Agatha blinked, surprised by the vehemence in Rio’s tone. “It’s not that simple.”

Rio stepped closer, her frustration evident. “It’s exactly that simple. He’s manipulating you. He knows you need what he has, so he’s using it to worm his way back into your life.”

“Maybe,” Agatha admitted softly, feeling a mix of guilt and defiance. “But if he can help me get rid of my mother for good, I can handle one stupid dinner.”

Rio scoffed, her eyes narrowing. “Stupid dinner? Don’t play it down, Agatha. This isn’t just about politics, and you know it.”

Agatha crossed her arms, feeling a spark of annoyance flare up. “What’s your problem, Rio? Jealousy?”

Rio stared at her for a moment, the intensity in her gaze making Agatha’s breath hitch. “You’re damn right I’m jealous,” Rio finally said, her voice low but unwavering. “Because the thought of you sitting across from him, letting him think he still has a chance with you—yeah, it drives me fucking insane.”

Agatha blinked, caught off guard by the raw honesty in Rio’s words.

“But it’s not just that,” Rio continued, taking another step closer. “I- I don’t trust what he wants or why he’s suddenly inserting himself into your life again. And I don’t like the idea of you being around someone who would use your vulnerabilities against you.”

Agatha softened slightly, her annoyance melting into something else—something warmer. “Rio…”

“I’m not saying this because I think you’re weak or can’t handle yourself,” Rio added, her voice quieter now. “I’m saying it because I care about you. And because I know how people like that operate.”

Agatha looked down, her arms loosening from their defensive cross. “I… I get it,” she said softly. “And you’re probably right. But I can’t afford to dismiss any lead, no matter where it comes from.”

Rio exhaled, her tension ebbing slightly but not completely. “Just promise me one thing.”

“What?”

“If you do this,” Rio said, her voice firm, “Just- I don't know. Don't fall for his shit? Or better yet, don’t go at all. We’ll find another way.”

Agatha nodded slowly, her mind still spinning. She reached out, her fingers brushing Rio’s hand. “I’ll think about it. I promise.”

Rio held her gaze for a moment before finally nodding. But the storm of emotions in her eyes—jealousy, protectiveness, and something... 

Fuck, something.

What the hell is this feeling?

** 

The congress building bustled with its usual blend of order and chaos.

Agatha walked the hallways with a determined stride, her head held high, but her mind whirring with every whisper that floated her way.

“She cut her mother off in front of the nation. That’s gotta sting…”

“Evanora Harkness won’t take this lying down. She’s too connected.”

“She’s going to burn her daughter to the ground before this is over. Mark my words.”

The words clawed at Agatha, but she kept her composure, her expression a mask of cool detachment. She passed a group of aides huddled near the water cooler, their conversation halting as she approached.

They didn’t need to finish their thoughts aloud. Agatha knew the weight of the accusations, the implications, the shadows of her mother’s machinations looming large.

Little do they know how much her mother has already tried to bury her. Little do they know how much it has already stung.

It lacerated.

It almost took her sanity.

As she rounded a corner, a familiar face appeared—Jen, holding a coffee and a folder.

“Congresswoman, your ten o’clock is about to start, but I flagged a few things in this file you’ll want to review first,” Jen said, her voice low.

Agatha took the folder with a nod. “Thank you. Give me a minute to get settled.”

Jen lingered for half a second, her brow furrowed in concern, before retreating down the hallway. Agatha slipped into her office, shut the door, and leaned against it for a moment, exhaling deeply.

The whispers hadn’t followed her in, but their weight remained.

**

Rio was home, fixed on her laptop screen. She leaned over the desk, scrolling through endless financial records, trying to untangle the web of donations and shell companies tied to Cadwell’s campaign. Her phone lay face down beside her, buzzing intermittently with notifications she ignored.

She was tired. Not just from the relentless sex she had with Agatha. She was mentally exausted. 

The exhaustion of the latest events accumulated, however, the only thing that saved her were Agatha's arms. That seemed to be the only thing calming her mind a bit.

But... Was that a good thing? 

What the hell am I even doing?  She thought, dragging a hand through her hair.

Agatha. Congresswoman Harkness.

Her lips quirked at the name, but it wasn’t a smile. More like a grimace, equal parts longing and frustration. She’s so far in the closet, she’s practically in Narnia. And me? What am I?

Rio leaned forward, elbows on the desk, fingers steepled in front of her mouth.

An experiment? Maybe. Probably.

She’s just testing the waters, seeing how it feels. Playing with fire.

And what if that’s all this is? Just a scene for her to dip her toes into something forbidden?

She closed her eyes, exhaling through her nose. Would I be fine with that? If that’s all I get?

I mean, yeah. 

Wouldn't be the first time, right?

Her stomach twisted at the thought, a sour ache settling in her chest.

No. Damn it, no.

I wouldn’t be fine. But what’s the alternative? Thinking she might actually feel something real for me?

That’s even scarier. Because, fuck, what if I’m wrong? What if I’m just another fucking mess in her life she’ll sweep under the rug when it gets inconvenient?

Rio sat up straighter, shaking her head like she could physically rid herself of the thoughts.

Get it together, Vidal. You knew the risks going in. Whatever this is, you’ll deal with it.

But the quiet whisper at the back of her mind persisted. And what if I’m more than an experiment?

Then, before she could answer herself, a notification appeared on her laptop.

Subject: Confidential
Sender: [Encrypted]

Her body tensed. She recognized the encryption style instantly—an old code she hadn’t seen in nearly a decade. One her father had used.

Her fingers hesitated over the trackpad. She clicked the email, heart pounding.

The message read:

"It’s time to play. But first, let’s see if you remember the ground rules.

• C"*

Rio stared at the screen, her chest tightening. Attached was an encrypted file. She knew how to crack it—it was something her father had drilled into her years ago.

Her mind swirled with unease, and a memory surfaced, unbidden.

**

Flashback: 9 years ago.

Rio sat on the edge of a sagging motel bed, a burner phone pressed to her ear. The room smelled of cheap air freshener and regret, and the single lamp flickered like it couldn’t decide whether to die or keep fighting.

On the other end of the line, her father’s voice was calm, calculated. “You got the package?”

“Yes,” Rio said, trying to steady her voice.

“Good. You’ll deliver it to the address I sent you. No questions, no deviations.”

She hesitated. “What’s in it?”

A pause. Then, his tone turned sharp, cutting. “That’s not your concern. Just do what you’re told.”

Rio swallowed hard. “And if I don’t?”

Her father’s chuckle was cold, devoid of warmth. “Then you’ll be more useless to me than you already are. Is that what you want?”

“No,” she whispered, shame and anger twisting inside her.

“Call me when it’s done.”

The line went dead. Rio stared at the phone, her hand trembling. The weight of the package beside her felt unbearable, but not as heavy as the realization that she would do it—because she didn’t know how not to.

So, she did what she was told. 

Right after, she called César again.

“It’s done,” Rio said, like she was afraid, she was forcing her tone to stay steady. Her heart, though, hammered in her chest. “But the guy had questions. He wasn’t sure about the... numbers.”

“Did you use the codes I gave you?” César asked, his voice sharp now, tinged with impatience.

“Yeah, I used them,” Rio said, exhaling slowly. “But you know this shit isn’t foolproof. If someone cracks it—”

“No one cracks my codes,” César interrupted, his tone steel. “Not unless they want a bullet in their head. You memorize them, and you follow the rules. It’s simple.”

Rio bit her lip, pacing the alley. She hated this part of it—the clandestine handoffs, the whispered phone calls, the constant sense of being watched. But she needed him to see her as valuable.

“And if I need to send something back?” she asked carefully. “How do I—”

“You know the sequence,” César cut her off. “Initiate with the first key phrase. Reverse the next two. The recipient will know it’s from us if they’re paying attention. If they don’t, they’re not worth dealing with. Or worse, they are not the right recipient.”

Rio swallowed hard. She hated how casual he was about it, like people were disposable if they couldn’t keep up with his charade. “Got it.”

“And Rio?”

She froze mid-step. “Yeah?”

“I don’t tolerate mistakes. Not even from you.”

**

Rio shook her head, trying to push the memory aside. Her fingers moved instinctively to decrypt the file, her body tense like a rock.

The past wasn’t just haunting her. It was pulling her back in. Again, and again, and again.

She decrypted the file. Inside, there was a video recording. Rio hesitated for a moment before clicking it.

César’s face appeared, calm and composed, his voice smooth and deliberate.

“Mija,” he began, his tone almost paternal, as if this were a casual conversation. “You’ve always had a sharp mind, an eye for survival. And yet, here you are, tethered to a sinking ship.”

He leaned forward slightly, his expression darkening.

“Agatha Harkness will be destroyed, and when she falls, you’ll be right there with her. But, I’m offering you a way out. Consider this my… warning. Step away now, and you might save yourself. Stay, and you’ll burn alongside her.”

The video ended abruptly, leaving Rio staring at the black screen, her heart pounding.

Fucking maniac.

He thinks I like this, Rio thought bitterly, her jaw clenching. He thinks I want to be like him.

Her phone buzzed on the desk, pulling her attention away. Agatha’s name lit up the screen, and for a brief moment, Rio hesitated.

César’s words echoed in her mind.

"You’ll burn alongside her."

“Yes?” she answered, her voice rougher than she intended.

“Hey, it’s me,” Agatha’s voice came through, soft and calm. “I’m outside your place. Let me in?”

Rio blinked, caught off guard. “Wait, what? You’re here?”

Agatha’s laugh was light, almost playful. “Yeah, I had a terrible day at work, and I just need to see you. I know we were together a few hours ago and you’re probably busy or whatever, but I could really use the company."

Rio hesitated for a moment. Agatha’s confidence always did something to her—made her feel like she had to keep up, like she was always one step behind. But in that moment, there was something comforting about it. Agatha was sweet in her own way, and maybe that’s what Rio needed. A break from the mess in her head.

“Okay, come in,” Rio said, her voice barely audible.

It was only a few moments before Agatha was standing in the doorway, her presence filling the space with an easy calmness. She flashed Rio a small smile, almost teasing. “I brought myself, no need to act nonchalant and act like you don’t want me here.”

Rio stood there for a beat, caught between the comfort Agatha brought and the mess she was trying to keep contained. “I’m glad you’re here,” she said, despite the knot that twisted in her stomach.

Agatha walked in without hesitation, the way she always did—unbothered, confident, yet somehow tender. She dropped her bag on the couch and glanced at Rio. “You okay?”

“Fine, yeah” Rio replied, but the words felt hollow. She couldn’t shake the feeling of dread from the email she had received. The threat lingered in her mind, heavy and suffocating.

Agatha, noticing the way Rio was avoiding eye contact, sat down on the couch next to her, close but not too close. “You sure about that?” Her tone was gentle, but there was a note of concern underneath.

Rio nodded but didn’t trust herself to say more. She wasn’t sure what was wrong—her emotions were tangled, scattered, all over the place. Agatha spoke about her day, recounting the chaos at work, but Rio wasn’t really listening. Her thoughts were a mess, lost in the haze of the impending danger from her father, the pressure to live up to expectations, and the fear of becoming something she didn’t want to be.

Agatha kept talking, oblivious to the storm brewing inside Rio. But then, a pause. A moment where Agatha must’ve sensed something was off.

“You’re not really hearing me, are you?” Agatha’s voice softened, and she turned to Rio with an expression that wasn’t teasing anymore. It was understanding, perceptive in a way that Rio didn’t expect.

Rio blinked, breaking from her trance. Her chest tightened, and she felt the familiar weight of anxiety crash over her. She opened her mouth to speak, but no words came out. Instead, she felt the tightness in her throat, the tears she had been holding back for so long threatening to spill.

Agatha reached out, her hand gently brushing Rio’s arm, her touch warm and steady. “Hey, talk to me. What’s going on?”

And that was all it took. The floodgates opened, and Rio’s breath hitched. She turned away, trying to hide the tears that were already spilling down her face, but Agatha was quick. She was there, pulling Rio into a gentle embrace, holding her with the kind of care that made Rio feel safe, even if she couldn’t make sense of what she was feeling.

“I don’t wanna be like him” Rio whispered through her sobs, her voice shaking. “I don’t want to be like my father, not anymore.”

Agatha’s grip on her tightened, and Rio felt the warmth of her embrace, steady and unyielding. “You’re not him, Rio. You’re not him,” Agatha murmured softly into her hair, her voice soothing. “You don’t have to be.”

Rio’s heart raced in her chest, but there was something about Agatha’s presence that made her feel like maybe—just maybe—there was a way out of this spiral. Agatha wasn’t trying to fix her or tell her everything would be okay. She was just there, holding her, letting her feel whatever she needed to feel.

“I used to be like him, Agatha” Rio said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“But you are not, not deep down” Agatha replied, her tone soft but firm.

Her arms were around Riolike a shield, and for the first time in a long while, Rio didn’t feel so lost. She kept sobbing, that she couldn't stop.

“Listen to me, Rio,” Agatha said, her tone unwavering, sweet. “I’ll keep reminding you of the truth" she pulled Rio in for a soft kiss. "I'll keep reminding you because I lo-" Agatha stopped herself before ending what she was about to say.

Shit. 

Too much.

"-because I know you."

Rio stared at her with those brown eyes. So much hurt. 

"Thank you for-" she whispered and she kissed Agatha's cheek, slowly "for existing."

Oh, she loved Agatha. 

She could see it now.

She could see it so clearly. 

This is gonna hurt like a motherfucker if I'm just some experience. 

"I'm glad we can coexist in the same timeline, Rio." Agatha said, brushing Rio's cheek with her thumb and cleaning her tears.

I could coexist with you forever, Agatha. She thought.

Chapter Text

Agatha remained close, her hand now resting lightly on Rio’s leg. They were still perched on the couch, the air heavy with Rio's anger, hurt, stress.. 

“Rio, what happened?” Agatha asked, her voice gentle but probing.

Rio hesitated, her gaze fixed on the wall a few feet from them. She hated the vulnerability that this whole shit had brought out of her moments ago. Hurt wasn’t something she was used to sharing, and it wasn’t something she wanted to explore any further.

“I don’t know,” Rio admitted, her voice raw. “It’s… fucked up.”

Agatha shifted closer, tilting her head to catch Rio’s eyes. “I think I can handle complicated. Come on, Rio. Spit it out.”

Rio sighed, running a hand through her hair, and leaned back against the couch. She stared at the ceiling for a moment, gathering her thoughts.

“My father,” she finally said, her tone flat. “César. He sent me an email.”

Agatha’s brows furrowed in confusion. “An email? What kind of email?”

Rio hesitated, her jaw tightening as she tried to choose her words carefully. “It’s… more like a threat. If you can call it that.”

Agatha’s concern deepened. “What do you mean?”

Rio exhaled, sitting forward with her elbows on her knees, her hands clasped together. She spoke cautiously, her words measured. “He’s warning me. Basically telling me to get out of the way while I still can. Whatever he’s planning… Fuck- Look, knowing him, it’s too much. It's always too much.”

Agatha’s lips parted. “He’s coming after me.”

Rio’s stomach twisted at the certainty in her tone. “I don’t know what exactly he’s planning,” she said quickly. “But yeah, it’s- it's about you.”

Agatha leaned back, crossing her arms. “So what’s his play here? He’s trying to spook you into leaving m-" she shook her head like she's trying to brush the words off, "into leaving the team?”

Rio’s throat tightened. She listened to what Agatha almost said, but she chose not to give it any thought. “Uh- Probably. Or he’s just testing me. That’s what he does. He’s always pushing, always pulling strings to see how people react. He thinks… he thinks I’m like him.”

Agatha’s gaze softened. “You’re not like him, Rio.”

“Yeah, you say that, but-” Rio started, the words slipping out before she could stop them. “I used to. That’s what scares me. He knows how to manipulate me. He’s good at it. What if…” She trailed off, shaking her head.

“What if what?” Agatha pressed, leaning forward.

“What if he pushes me into doing something I don’t want to do?” Rio’s voice cracked, and she looked at Agatha, her expression pleading. “What if I-"

Agatha moved closer, taking Rio’s hands in hers. “You’re not going to fail me. And you’re not going to let him control you, okay?”

Rio searched her eyes, wanting to believe her. But the doubt lingered.

Agatha’s grip on her hands tightened. “Listen to me. Whatever he’s planning, it doesn’t scare me.”

“It should,” Rio said quietly. “He’ll come after you. And if he can’t get to you, he’ll use me to hurt you. He’s done it before with other people.”

“Then we’ll make sure he doesn’t get that chance. He doesn't even know about- Whatever this is” Agatha said firmly, her fingers pointing between them.

Rio let out a humorless laugh. “You don’t know him, Agatha. He doesn’t lose. And when he thinks he’s losing, he burns everything down. And, about whatever this is, he's quite an observant.”

Agatha reached out, cupping Rio’s face with both hands, forcing her to look at her. “Then let him try,” she said, her voice steady. “I’m not afraid of him.”

For a moment, Rio didn’t speak. The intensity in Agatha’s eyes was almost too much. Her touch. Her words. She wanted to believe her, to trust that they could face this together. 

Together?

Are they even, together? 

Rio straightened, letting Agatha’s hands fall from her face as she pushed herself up from the couch. She grabbed a water glass from the table near by, holding it as if it might somehow ground her. She took a sip, her movements calculated, trying to mask the maelstrom inside.

Nonchalant. Detached. Cool. She repeated the words in her mind like a mantra, as if willing herself to believe she wasn’t unraveling beneath Agatha’s gaze.

It’s fine, Rio told herself.

Whatever this is, it doesn’t matter.

She’s figuring herself out, and I’m… I’m just here. Temporary.

It’s not like I haven’t been temporary before.

But the thought twisted something inside her. The way Agatha looked at her—soft but unsure—made Rio feel like she was standing at the edge of a cliff.

Was this a leap of faith or a drop into an abyss?

God, stop it. Don’t read into things. She’s confused, not cruel. This is fine. You can handle this.

Agatha, still seated on the couch, stared at Rio’s back. Her lips pressed into a thin line as she folded her hands in her lap, fingers fidgeting with one another. She hated how awkward she suddenly felt, like she was failing at some unspoken script.

What am I doing? Agatha thought, frustration blooming in her chest. Her mind reeled with contradictions. She’d told herself over and over that this thing with Rio was just-

She swallowed hard, the thought hitting her like a brick.

No. No, it doesn’t mean anything. It can’t.

Why would she want to be close with someone like me?

I'm just a good fuck. I mean, a decent one? 

That all this is. 

She's on my side because she likes me. As a person, as a friend. 

Nothing more. 

A decent fuck.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. She wasn’t supposed to feel… well, anything. Not that heat in her chest when Rio smiled, not the way her stomach flipped whenever Rio touched her, and certainly not the guilt—this suffocating, relentless guilt—whenever she thought about how little she understood herself.

Agatha’s gaze dropped to her hands. She clenched her fingers tighter, as if to force herself back into control.

This is just… something. Something I’m trying to figure out. That’s all it is. It doesn’t mean more.

But the way her chest tightened when she looked at Rio said otherwise.

Rio leaned against the counter now, sipping her water and staring out the window as if the skyline would distract her. She could feel Agatha’s eyes on her, and it made her pulse quicken.

Rio started wondering. Don’t say anything. Don’t ask her what she’s thinking. Don’t—

She turned to glance at Agatha, their eyes meeting for a brief moment. It was fleeting, but in that split second, Rio thought she saw something she couldn’t quite name.

Is she scared?

No, don’t do this to yourself.

She’s not scared—she’s figuring things out. And I’m… helping her, right? That’s all this is.

But the way Agatha looked at her, like she wanted to say something, but couldn’t, made Rio’s chest ache.

Say something. Break the silence. Don’t let this hang.

“Want some water?” Rio asked, her voice casual, light.

Agatha blinked, startled by the question. She forced a small smile and shook her head. “No, I’m good.”

Rio nodded, turning back to the window.

Silence hung between them again, thick and unspoken, both of them trapped in their own thoughts.

Agatha leaned back against the couch, exhaling slowly. She hated how uncertain she felt. How afraid she was to ruin… whatever this was. Her mother’s words echoed in her mind, sharp and unforgiving.

This isn’t normal. You’re just confused.

Her mother had told her this when she was a teenager. When she caught her flipping through magazines that contained... let's say... women in... suggestive poses.

Yes, Evanora. Just a phase.

But if that were true, why did she feel this pull toward Rio? This unrelenting, magnetic pull?

“Agatha,” Rio said softly, breaking the silence, her tone unreadable.

Agatha’s head snapped up, her eyes wide. “Yeah?”

Rio hesitated, and her gaze got back to lingering on the skyline. “Nevermind.”

Agatha frowned, shifting forward. “What is it?”

Rio shook her head, forcing a small smile. “Nothing important.”

And then the silence returned.

Agatha felt Rio’s back eyes on her. They were lingering, assessing. It wasn’t fair how effortlessly Rio seemed to see through her walls, cutting straight to the parts she wasn’t ready to confront. It left her feeling raw, exposed, and—god help her—embarrassed.

She straightened her posture, smoothing the hem of her blazer as if it might help her regain control.

Get it together, Agatha.

This wasn’t supposed to happen. You don’t get clingy after… after one night.

One night, Agatha. You don’t fall because of one night.

Yeah, one night.

And that time she touched herself thinking about Rio.

And that time Rio came for her to watch. 

And that time Rio fucked her senseless but she didn't even touched her back.

And...

Fuck-

Get. A fucking. Grip.

She couldn’t deny the warmth lingering in between her legs now, the ghost of Rio’s touch still on her skin. The way Rio had looked at her last night—like she was something worth worshiping—had been enough to make her heart stumble.

No. Absolutely not.

She forced the thoughts away, focusing instead on the awkward silence hanging between them. Whatever Rio had been about to say didn’t matter. Agatha needed to steer this back into safer territory.

“So,” she began, her voice a little too casual as she pushed her hair behind her ear. “Are you… feeling better?”

Rio’s brow furrowed slightly, as if she hadn’t expected the question. She turned from the window, her glass still in hand, and shrugged. “Hum?”

Agatha bit the inside of her cheek. “I don’t know,” she said quickly. “You seemed shaken. Just wanted to make sure you weren’t… you know.”

Rio’s lips quirked, and Agatha hated how the slight curve of her mouth sent a shiver down her spine. “I’m better, yeah.” Rio said, her tone light but not entirely convincing.

Agatha nodded, trying to act as though the answer satisfied her. “Good. That’s… good.”

The words felt stilted, awkward, but she pressed on, determined to keep the conversation moving. Anything to distract from the weight of whatever had been hanging in the air moments ago.

“And…” She hesitated, realizing too late that she didn’t actually have a follow-up. She quickly searched for something, anything to fill the void. “I mean, if there’s something more you want to talk about…”

Rio raised an eyebrow, her expression somewhere between amused and curious. “What are you asking, Congresswoman?”

The teasing lilt in Rio’s voice made Agatha’s stomach flip, and she bristled, trying to mask her flustered reaction. “Don’t make it weird” she shot back, her tone sharp but not unkind.

Rio chuckled, setting her glass down on the counter. “I’m not making it weird. You are.”

Agatha crossed her arms, leaning back against the couch as she arched a brow at Rio. “Oh, so now it’s my fault?”

Rio stepped closer, her movements slow and deliberate, and for a moment, Agatha’s breath hitched. Rio stopped just shy of the couch, her gaze locked on Agatha’s.

“You tell me,” Rio said softly, her voice low, the teasing edge replaced by something more intense.

Agatha felt her pulse quicken, her heart hammering against her ribs. For a split second, she thought Rio might say something—might call her out on the mess she was trying so hard to hide.

But Rio didn’t. Instead, she reached for her glass again, her expression unreadable, and turned back toward the window.

The moment passed, leaving Agatha feeling both relieved and disappointed.

For god's shake, Agatha. She straightened, clearing her throat. “Well, just… you know, I'm here”

Rio glanced over her shoulder, her gaze softening for a fraction of a second. “I know, Agatha” she said simply.

Agatha couldn't quite make sense of what was happening. Rio was teasing in one second, then, pulling away in the next. 

Is she playing me? 

She finally broke it, her voice softer than usual. “Do you… want me to stay?”

Rio glanced at her, guilt flashing across her features. She hesitated, her eyes darting back to the window before she sighed. “I-” she started, her voice low. “I think I just need some time alone.”

Agatha’s stomach twisted, but she forced a small smile. “It’s okay,” she said quickly, even though it didn’t feel okay at all. “Really. Just… let me know if you need anything.”

“Thanks” Rio murmured, her words laced with an unspoken apology.

Agatha nodded, her heart heavy as she stood and grabbed her bag. She walked over to Rio and pressed a soft kiss to her cheek.

Rio closed her eyes as she felt the kiss. So soft, so warm.

She paused in the doorway, glancing back at Rio, who hadn’t moved from her spot. “Take care of yourself, okay?”

Rio didn’t look at her, her eyes still closed, but she nodded. “You too.”

**

The drive home felt longer than usual. Agatha sat in the back seat of her black sedan, staring out the window as her driver navigated the now quiet streets of the city. Ralph had been her driver for years—a stoic, trustworthy presence who had seen and heard more than she cared to admit. He was one of the few people she knew she could count on to keep her secrets, including the most recent one: her tangled, messy, impossible relatio- whatever this is-with Rio.

It wasn’t like he didn’t know. I mean, it was impossible not to, given how he picked her up from Rio’s place after that event, her hair tousled, her clothes slightly askew. I mean, he even drove them to her place that day. He drove her to Rio's place today too. Of course he knew. But Ralph never said a word. 

Agatha leaned her head back against the seat, her thoughts spiraling. Something was off—she could feel it in the way Rio had looked at her, the way she’d pulled back.

Was it the email? Her father? Did he scare her?

The idea made her chest tighten. César Vidal had found a way to get under Rio’s skin, it would explain the distance, the pull back, the sudden need for solitude.

But, why did she seem to melt in her arms?

Or… was it something else? Was Rio trying to pull away from her because of—Agatha cut the thought off before it could spiral any further.

She turned to Ralph, who was focused on the road. “Ralph,” she said, her voice sharper than she intended.

“Yes, ma’am?” he replied, his tone calm and steady as always.

“How do you deal with women?”

Ralph blinked, momentarily caught off guard. He glanced at her in the rearview mirror, his expression unreadable. “Deal with them, ma’am?”

“You know,” Agatha said, gesturing vaguely. “When they’re… complicated.”

Ralph’s lips twitched, just shy of a smile. “Well, ma’am, I’d say patience is key. Listening helps too. But if I’m honest, most of the time, you just have to be ready to meet them where they are.”

Agatha raised an eyebrow. “Meet them where they are? That sounds suspiciously like letting them call all the shots.”

“Sometimes it is,” Ralph admitted and chuckled, his tone good-natured. “But it’s not about giving up control. It’s about understanding what they need, even if they’re not saying it out loud.”

Agatha sighed, slumping back into her seat. “That sounds exhausting.”

Ralph chuckled again. “It can be, ma’am.”

Agatha stayed silent for a moment, tapping her fingers against the leather seat. Ralph’s words had struck a nerve, and she hated how much she wanted to dig deeper. But admitting that—even to someone as discreet as Ralph...

She glanced up, catching his gaze briefly in the rearview mirror. “Okay, but… how do you know what they’re feeling? Like, truly feeling?”

Ralph didn’t answer immediately, his brows knitting slightly as he considered the question. “Paying attention, ma’am. People show you how they feel all the time, even if they don’t say it outright. It’s in the little things—the way they look at you, how they act when they think you’re not noticing.”

Agatha huffed a soft laugh, rolling her eyes in an attempt to seem casual. “Sounds exhausting, too.”

Ralph smirked faintly, his eyes back on the road. “Sometimes. But if you care about them, you’ll notice. It’s not as hard as it sounds.”

She shifted uncomfortably, her arms crossing over her chest. The car was too quiet, the weight of her own thoughts pressing in around her. Desperate to redirect the conversation, she added hastily, “Not that I’m asking for myself. A friend of mine was just talking about this earlier, you know. He's seeing someone new, and he’s completely clueless about where they stand. It’s a mess.”

“Of course,” Ralph said, clearly not buying the cover story but polite enough not to call her out. “Well, if your friend wants to know where they stand, he might just have to ask. Or wait until the other person feels ready to show it.”

“Ask,” Agatha repeated dryly, her nose wrinkling. “Like that’s easy.”

“Not quite,” Ralph agreed, his voice calm. “But sometimes it’s the only way to get an answer that matters.”

Agatha fell silent again, her thoughts churning.

Wait until the other person shows her…

She wanted to scoff at the simplicity of it, but deep down, she knew Ralph wasn’t wrong. Rio was an enigma. Agatha hated feeling uncertain, but the idea of pushing Rio for answers felt like stepping into a minefield.

“Tell your friend not to overthink it,” Ralph added, glancing briefly at her again. “Sometimes, the other person is just as confused as we are.”

Agatha let out a quiet, humorless laugh, leaning her head back against the seat. “I’ll tell him.”

Ralph nodded, his expression unreadable but tinged with quiet understanding.

Agatha turned her gaze back to the window, watching the city lights flicker past. For a fleeting moment, she let herself wonder what Rio was doing—what she was thinking, feeling. But the thought felt too dangerous, too raw, and she shoved it aside with the practiced ease of someone who’d been avoiding her own emotions for years.

“Thank you, Ralph,” she murmured after a while, her voice quieter now.

“Anytime, ma’am,” he replied, his tone steady and reassuring.

**

Rio paced back and forth across her apartment, her bare feet padding against the floor as her thoughts churned.

She couldn’t focus, couldn’t settle.

Agatha’s face, her voice, the way she had looked at her tonight, and the night before, and those times before that—fuck, it was all too much. And yet, it wasn’t just the memory of her that was rattling around in Rio’s mind.

It was her father. 

What was he planning? She didn’t doubt for a second that César Vidal would do whatever it took to maintain himself on top, even if it meant using whatever means necessary. The thought of Agatha caught in her father’s web made Rio’s stomach twist. 

All of this for that sample of a man Cadwell is. Jesus, what could César possibly see in him, for him to chose him as his champion?

Well, his puppet.

Okay, yeah. It makes sense.

But that wasn’t all, was it?

Her pacing slowed, and she stopped to lean against the back of the couch, gripping it tightly. The truth, the real, messy truth, was that she was afraid. Not just for Agatha’s safety, but for herself. She felt like she was on the edge of something huge, something she didn’t know if she could handle.

Was this love?

It sure does feel like it.

The overwhelming ache to be close to her, to protect her, to understand every piece of her. But it could also be something else. Maybe it was just yearning—this need she had to connect with someone who seemed untouchable.

Her feelings always boiled down to two options: fight or flight. Either they were worth fighting for, or they’d ruin her if she let herself get too close.

She sighed and grabbed her phone, scrolling through her contacts before pressing the call button on Alice’s name.

Alice picked up, her voice groggy. “C'mon, Rio. It’s late.”

“Sorry,” Rio said, running a hand through her hair. “I just- I needed to talk.”

Alice’s tone softened instantly. “What’s going on?”

“It’s about Agatha,” Rio started, but the words felt heavy on her tongue. “I mean, it’s not just about her. It’s… complicated.”

Alice let out a small laugh. “Complicated is your favorite word, isn’t it? Just spit it out, Rio.”

Rio hesitated, her grip tightening on the phone. “I think I’m in over my head with her.”

“Oh, you think?” Alice said, her tone dripping with mock surprise. “Rio, you’re not exactly subtle. And neither is she.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

Alice sighed. “I know you two are fucking. And before you ask how I know, let’s just say it’s obvious. Agatha Harkness is one of the most composed, put-together people I’ve ever seen. But when she’s around you? She’s different. She’s softer, more…” Alice paused, searching for the right word. “I don't even know how to put it.”

Rio’s heart skipped a beat, but she forced herself to play it cool. “That doesn’t mean anything.”

“Oh, come on,” Alice said, exasperated. “Are you still trying to figure out if she likes women? Because that question’s been answered. The real issue here is you. What’s fucking your mind now?”

Rio sat down on the couch, her free hand fidgeting with the hem of her shirt. “I don’t know. It’s just… I’m scared, Alice. Scared of what she feels—or doesn’t feel. Scared of what I feel. And then there’s my father—”

“Jeez, Rio. Where did that motherfucker crawled from? I thought he was old news already," Alice inhaled, "But, anyway, your father doesn’t matter here,” she simply said. “You can’t let him dictate how you live your life. This is about you and Harkness. So, again—what’s the problem?”

Rio didn’t answer right away. She stared at the floor, the weight of Alice’s words settling on her. What was the problem?

“I guess,” she said finally, her voice barely above a whisper, “I’m scared of what happens if I’m wrong. If she doesn’t feel the same.”

Alice was quiet for a moment, and when she spoke again, her voice was gentle. “You’ll never know if you keep running from it. But from where I’m standing, it doesn’t look like you’re wrong.”

Rio let out a shaky breath, her mind racing. Maybe Alice was right. Maybe this was worth the risk. But, but-

"But what if I am?"

"Well, if you are, you put out the fire that's burning you from the inside out. Rio, you don't need to set yourself on fire to keep others warm." Alice spoke softly.

I'd burn for her.

I-

Oh, jesus, fuck.

Rio shook her head. "Yeah, I guess you're right."

"Of course I am." Alice chuckled. 

Rio rolled her eyes. "Snob."

"Weirdo" Alice said back. 

"Okaay- Goodbye Alice." Rio rolled her eyes again. 

"You got this. Goodnight, Rio."

And the call ended. 

**

The days passed in a blur of campaign events, strategy meetings, a few press appearances. The weight of the upcoming final election was quite heavy, a constant undercurrent in every conversation and decision. Agatha and Rio were both drowning in the chaos, their interactions reduced to quick exchanges and brief moments of shared focus.

For Rio, the week felt like an eternity. She hadn’t been able to decipher what her father’s next move might be, and that uncertainty gnawed at her. César was too calculated to act without purpose, and whatever he was planning, it was bound to be catastrophic for Agatha.

But beyond the political tension, another weight pressed on her chest- those fucking feelings.

Agatha had been distant—or at least, it felt that way to Rio. Their conversations, once layered with unspoken emotions and glances that lingered too long, had become almost purely professional. And it wasn’t like Rio could blame her. Agatha had given her space, probably sensing the turmoil Rio was in.

Still, the absence of those subtle moments between them left Rio feeling untethered.

Agatha, on the other hand, was navigating her own minefield of emotions. She had thrown herself into her work, burying her thoughts about Rio in the endless to-do lists and political maneuvering.

Giving Rio space felt like the right thing to do, but that didn’t mean it was easy.

When the week finally brought Rio to Agatha’s office, it was almost a relief for both of them, though neither would admit it.

Agatha was seated behind her desk, papers spread out in front of her, a furrow etched between her brows. She looked up when Rio entered, her expression softening ever so slightly. “What’s up?”

Rio held up her phone, where a news alert was displayed. “Cadwell’s making headlines again. Some big announcement, a new initiative he’s promising to push forward if he wins.”

Agatha leaned back in her chair, her gaze narrowing. “Let me guess—it’s flashy, sounds too good to be true, and has zero chance of actually being implemented?”

“Yup” Rio said, setting her phone down on Agatha’s desk. “It’s got my father’s fingerprints all over it. He loves a big, dramatic play at the last second. It’s classic César Vidal: create a distraction, make people look one way while you’re setting up something bigger in the other direction.”

Agatha’s lips pressed into a thin line as she considered this. “So, what’s the bigger move here? What’s he setting up?”

“That’s what I’m trying to figure out,” Rio admitted, crossing her arms. “But this? This is the kind of thing he does to cement someone in people’s minds. He’s setting Cadwell up as the ‘people's savior,’ so he looks untouchable. You know, maybe presidential, in the future”

Agatha sighed, leaning forward and resting her elbows on the desk. “We need to counter this, fast. If he’s pulling some kind of stunt-”

Her phone buzzed.

"Oh, for fucks shake." Agatha looked at the screen and saw, once again, Henry's name popping up.

"Let me guess... The famous ex?" Rio rolled her eyes.

Agatha looked up, catching Rio’s steady gaze. “Yeah,” she muttered. “He’s nothing if not persistent.”

Rio smirked faintly, though her expression held no humor. “You going to entertain him again, or should I answer it for you?”

Agatha rolled her eyes, but her lips twitched with a reluctant smile. “Let me handle it.” She swiped to answer, bringing the phone to her ear. “Yes, Henry?”

The voice on the other end was annoyingly smooth, as if he had been expecting her call all day. “Tic-tac, Agatha. Time’s running out.”

Her patience was already wearing thin. “Get to the point, Henry. I don’t have time for games.”

“Oh, but games are what you’re good at,” he said, his tone laced with amusement. “I saw Cadwell’s latest stunt. Quite the spectacle, isn’t it?”

Agatha’s free hand tightened into a fist. “And?”

“And I thought you might be in need of a little career boost.” His voice dropped, taking on a conspiratorial edge. “Something to remind voters that you’re more than just Evanora’s little shadow. Something that makes Cadwell look like the amateur he is.”

Her stomach churned at the mention of her mother’s name. “I still haven't decided if I want something from you."

Henry laughed softly. “Come now, Agatha. Don’t act like the idea doesn’t tempt you. You hate her. Always have. And this? This isn’t just about hate. This is about strategy. You use what I’ve got, and suddenly, you’re the hero. The one who’s willing to expose corruption—even when it’s in her own family.”

Agatha felt Rio’s eyes on her, but she didn’t look up. “And in exchange, you get your little prize—a date,” she said bitterly.

“Call it a mutually beneficial arrangement,” Henry said lightly. “You get ahead in the race, and I get to remind you why you used to enjoy my company.”

She swallowed hard, her voice tight. “You’re disgusting.”

“And yet, you were kissing me goodnight a few years ago.” His confidence was maddening. “You can’t deny the potential, Agatha. This could change everything. But tic-tac—the clock is ticking. You don’t have forever to decide.”

She hung up without another word, tossing the phone onto the desk like it had burned her.

Rio was silent for a moment, her expression unreadable. Finally, she spoke, her voice low and disgusted with what she just heard. “So, are you going to take it?”

Agatha’s head snapped up, her eyes narrowing. “You think I would?”

Rio shrugged, though her tone was sharper than her casual posture suggested. “I think you’re considering it. You hate Evanora. Exposing her would be like killing two birds with one stone.”

“Don’t make it sound like I’m some kind of opportunist,” Agatha snapped, though the accusation hit closer to home than she cared to admit.

Rio’s eyes softened, but her voice remained firm. “I’m not judging you. I’m just asking. What’s stopping you?”

Agatha stared at her, feeling suddenly exposed, like Rio could see every messy thought swirling in her head. “What’s stopping me?” she echoed. “What stops you from walking away from this circus? From me?”

Rio didn’t answer immediately, and the silence stretched between them like a taut wire. Then, finally, she said, “Because I’m not like him. Like Henry.”

Agatha’s breath hitched at the raw honesty in Rio’s voice. For a fleeting moment, she considered spilling everything—the doubts, the fears, the part of her that was terrified she’d ruin everything she touched. But instead, she drew a shaky breath and let the moment pass.

"I need to do something real about this. Just holding a grudge towards my mother isn't enough."

Holding a grudge is like drinking poison and expecting the other person to die.

"Okay, Agatha. You should go then." Rio sounded cold.

"I don't want to-" She tried to explain. 

"Maybe Henry can give you more than just a career boost," Rio said, her tone sharp and cutting.

The words hung heavy in the air, laced with jealousy and something cold.

Agatha flinched, her jaw tightening as she processed the sting. “That’s not fair, Rio.”

“Neither is any of this.”

And Rio walks off, leaving Agatha alone in her office.

Chapter Text

Agatha sat at her desk, still in disbelief at Rio's abrupt exit. Then, her mind got caught up in a discussing with herself. 

Maybe Henry can give me more than just a career boost?

I wouldn't buy his bullshit even if it was on discount. 

I would choose the bear. Indeed. 

But-

No, but what? Are you insane? 

No, I'm not. But we're getting behind in the fucking race. 

Yeah, but Henry is like a bag full of bags. He's full of himself. Don't let him-

Don't you think I know that? Sometimes the hardest choices to live with are the ones other people make for you.

But you do have a choice! 

Sure. I just don't have the time.

Tic-fucking-Tac.

"Fuck" Agatha muttered to herself. 

Agatha leaned back in her chair, staring at the ceiling like it held the answers she so desperately needed. 

This is not fair.

Neither is any of this. Rio’s words still echoed in her head, sharp and cold, wrapping around her thoughts like barbed wire.

What the hell did she mean by that? Neither is any of this? What, the campaign? The mess with her mother? Her father? Or... whatever the hell was happening between them?

Agatha clenched her jaw, frustration bubbling under the surface. Rio was like a goddamn riddle wrapped in layers of deflection and sharp edges. One minute she was right there, grounding her, the next she was pulling away like Agatha had done something wrong—like she was the one making this complicated.

"Jesus Christ," Agatha muttered, running a hand through her hair.

Why did she leave like that? Why did she have to make her feel like she was always one step behind, always chasing after something she couldn't quite catch?

Her fingers drummed anxiously against the desk. She couldn’t—wouldn’t—sit here and let Rio's words sink in, twisting into something they weren’t.

She needed to move. To act.

Thinking too much had never been her strong suit anyway, she just got things done.

Before she could talk herself out of it, Agatha grabbed her phone and pulled up Henry’s number.

This was a mistake. A colossal, world-ending mistake.

But right now? She didn’t care.

Henry was a bastard, a smug, insufferable bastard who would probably milk this for all it was worth—but he had what she needed. And if Rio thought she was just going to sit around, tangled up in feelings she couldn't name, waiting for things to fall apart, then fuck that.

She hit call, heart pounding.

It rang once. Twice. Then—

“Well, well,” Henry’s voice oozed through the speaker, smug and knowing. “Didn’t expect you to crack so soon, Aggie.”

"Time and place?" she asked in a cold tone, completely ignoring Henry's arrogant posture.

"Tonight. 9pm. Our restaurant." 

And Agatha just ended the call, completely disgusted with herself for getting to this point. But, politics had things like that. One has to make compromises, even if it means dyeing their soul with shades of darkness that not even hell could dream of. 

Agatha tossed her phone onto the desk and leaned back in her chair as a deep, hollow ache settled in her chest.

Tonight. 9pm. Our restaurant.

She hated the way those words sounded in her head. Our restaurant. As if there was still an our, as if the ghosts of who they used to be hadn’t rotted away years ago.

God, she hated him. Hated the way his voice still carried that self-assured arrogance, the way he thought he knew her, like she was still the same girl who stood by his side. The trophy girlfriend, the pretty little accessory to his charmed, shallow world.

Agatha swallowed hard, her fingers curling into a tight fist on her lap. How many times had she played that role? Standing next to Henry at fundraisers and galas, smiling just enough, laughing when she should, nodding along to his empty, preppy bullshit. He used to whisper things in her ear—about how perfect they looked together, how everyone envied them. And she’d let him, because it was easier than telling him the truth.

That she didn’t love him.

That she never did.

Maybe he loved her, in his own way, but she doubted it. Henry was the kind of man who loved what she represented, not who she was. He was just another hormonal jock back then, riding the wave of privilege and charm, picking up whatever girl fit the part. And she did fit the part - too well. It was suffocating, but Agatha had learned early on how to survive in a world that demanded perfection from her.

She could still remember the fights, the screaming matches behind closed doors, the way they’d tear into each other until her voice was raw and her hands were shaking. Henry never truly fought for her... he just fought to win. He wanted dominance, control—wanted her to be what he expected. And for a while, she let him think he had it.

Until the pregnancy.

The moment the test came back positive, everything shifted. The thought of being tied to him forever, of becoming that woman—trapped, fading, living for a man she could barely stand, or.. any man—it made her stomach churn. The decision was easy. Cold. Logical.

She didn’t hesitate.

Agatha pressed her fingers against her temples, feeling the weight of it all, the years of pretending, of running, of trying to carve out something real for herself. But now, here she was, crawling back to him because politics demanded it. Because her ambition, the one thing that had always driven her forward, was dragging her straight to hell.

She could almost hear his voice now -if she hadn't ended the call- the way he'd smirk and say, "Tic-tac, Aggie."

The worst part? He'd be right. The clock was ticking, and she was running out of moves.

Compromise. That’s what politics was. Sacrifices. Deals made in dimly lit restaurants with men like Henry, with the devils you swore you’d never need again.

Agatha let out a shaky breath and stood up, pacing the room, trying to shake off the bitter taste in her mouth. The walls felt too tight, too close.

She thought of Rio. The way Rio looked at her like she saw her, past all the ambition and armor. And Agatha? She wanted to be seen.

But Rio wouldn’t understand this. She just wouldn’t. She’d look at her with those soft, brown eyes, full of disappointment, and Agatha would fall apart.

She couldn't afford to fall apart. Not now.

Rio left. She made a choice. She could've stayed. They could have talked things through. But-

She left. 

So, she’d meet Henry. She’d smile. She’d listen. She’d do what needed to be done.

And later?

Later, she’d hate herself for it.

**

Rio sat on the couch, legs crossed, staring blankly at the half-empty glass of whiskey on her hand. It was like 8pm, why was she even drinking?

Well, to make Agatha leave her mind, even for just a second.

Her phone buzzed, and she sighed before picking it up, seeing Alice’s name flashing on the screen.

“Yeah?” Rio answered, her voice flat.

“Wow, what a warm welcome.” Alice’s voice crackled with amusement. “You in the mood to hit the bar? Jen and I are grabbing drinks.”

Rio let out a slow breath, rubbing her temple. “I don’t know, Al. I’m not really in the mood for... that.”

“That?” Alice teased. “You mean fun? Socializing? Remembering you actually have friends?”

Rio smirked despite herself but shook her head. “I don’t wanna third wheel you and Jen.”

There was a pause on the other end, and then Alice sputtered, “Third wheel? Rio, me and Jen are not—”

“Not a thing, yeah, yeah, I know,” Rio cut in, her voice dry and knowing. “But I see how you look at her.”

Alice groaned. “Oh my God, I do not—”

“You really do,” Rio interrupted again, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips. “You get that dumb little smile whenever she talks about something she loves, and you think no one notices, but I do.”

Alice huffed dramatically. “Okay, first of all, fuck you. Second of all, I’m hanging up.”

Rio chuckled, the sound bitter. “No, you’re not.”

A beat passed, and then Alice sighed. “Fine, I’m not. But seriously, Rio, what’s going on with you?”

And just like that, the weight settled back onto her chest. Rio felt it like a dull ache, a hollow pressure that wouldn’t go away no matter how hard she tried to shove it down. Agatha.

“Nothing,” Rio said quickly, too quickly.

Alice didn’t buy it. “Uh-huh. So, how’s the senator-to-be?”

The mention of Agatha’s name was like a gut punch. Rio clenched her jaw, staring at the whiskey glass like it held all the answers. It didn’t. “She’s busy,” she said, keeping her voice even. “You know, running for office, shaking hands, kissing babies, that kind of thing.”

Alice hummed thoughtfully. “And you?”

Rio swallowed the lump in her throat. “I’m just trying not to get caught in the crossfire.”

It was half a joke, but it felt too raw to be funny. She felt like Agatha had been pulling away, bit by bit, and Rio could feel it like an open wound. She hadn’t figured out what it meant—if Agatha was just a mess, like her, or if she was slipping through her fingers in that quiet, inevitable way people sometimes did. And the worst part? Rio didn’t know if she had the right to ask.

Alice, thankfully, didn’t press. “Well, if you change your mind, we’ll be at The Road. Drinks are on me.”

“I’ll think about it.”

Alice made a pleased noise. “That’s all I ask. And hey, Rio?”

“Yeah?”

“Don’t let your head fuck this up for you.”

Rio closed her eyes, exhaling slowly. “Too late.”

She hung up before Alice could respond, tossing her phone onto the couch and dragging a hand to her face. Her chest felt too tight, her mind running in circles. She hated feeling like this—uncertain, exposed. It was easier when things were black and white, when she could put people into boxes and walk away when they didn’t fit. But Agatha...

Agatha was an entirely different story.

Rio stood up, pacing the space of her apartment. She could feel the fear, the anger, the longing, all tangled together.

She didn't want Agatha to turn into one of her scars. 

She glanced at her phone again, her thumb hovering over Agatha’s contact. She didn’t call. Instead, she downed the rest of her whiskey in one gulp and sat back down, staring out the window into the night, wondering how long she could keep pretending she wasn’t already in too deep.

**

9pm.

Agatha stepped into the restaurant, the familiar scent of aged wine and overpriced truffle oil clinging to the air. The place hadn’t changed. It still reeked of wealth and empty conversation, the kind of place Henry loved. She spotted him immediately, lounging at their old corner table with the same insufferable smirk plastered across his face. He leaned back in his chair, casual, confident, like he owned the place.

She walked over, heels clicking against the floor, each step precise. She refused to let him see her falter.

“Agatha,” Henry drawled, standing up with that irritating ease, his eyes dragging over her in a way that made her skin crawl. "You look... well."

She ignored the comment, sliding into the seat across from him without so much as a greeting. "Let's cut the crap, Henry. I'm not here for pleasantries."

Henry chuckled, low and condescending, settling back into his chair. "You wound me, Aggie. What happened to the good old days? A little wine, a little banter, maybe—"

"Give me the information." Her voice was steel, cutting through his nonsense like a blade.

He tsked, shaking his head. "Patience, love. Information like this? It deserves a little... ceremony. Let's at least get through dinner, hmm? Dessert, at the very least."

Agatha's fingers curled around the stem of her glass, knuckles whitening. "I'm not here to play games. Just hand it over and I'll be out of your perfectly styled hair."

Henry leaned in, resting his chin on his hand, his grin widening. "Oh, come on. Where’s the fun in that? Besides, that's not the deal. And... you used to love our little dinners. Remember when—"

"No, I don't," Agatha raised her hand to cut him off sharply.

But then.. She decided it was time to play back. Henry might just fall for a little honey trap. "But if you insist on dragging this out, fine. Let's enjoy ourselves, Henry."

His eyes gleamed with something predatory, something that made Agatha's stomach churn. She could feel his gaze lingering on her, waiting for cracks to show. So she gave him what he wanted—just enough.

She leaned forward slightly, her lips curling into something that resembled amusement. She whispered "I guess you always did have a flair for theatricality. But I hope you're not stalling because you've got nothing, Henry. That would be... disappointing."

Henry's grin faltered for just a second before he recovered. "Oh, Aggie. You know I never disappoint."

She let her eyes linger on his for a beat too long, then glanced at the menu, twirling the wine glass between her fingers. "Then, impress me."

He laughed, the sound grating against her nerves. "I intend to. But first, let’s toast to old times. To what could have been."

Agatha clinked her glass against his, forcing herself to swallow the bitterness in her throat along with the wine.

The dinner dragged on, filled with Henry’s infuriating quips and her calculated responses. Every smile, every glance, was a means to an end. She watched the way he leaned in closer, how his voice dipped lower, thinking he still had some sort of pull over her.

"You know," Henry said smoothly, swirling his drink. "You always did have a way of keeping me on my toes. That fire of yours, it's... amusing."

Agatha gave him a slow, deliberate smile. "Careful, Henry. You might burn yourself."

He smirked, clearly thinking he was winning. "Wouldn't be the first time."

Agatha nearly rolled her eyes but caught herself. Instead, she placed a hand lightly on the table, tracing the rim of her glass. "I must ask.. Why are you doing all this?" her voice now dripping honey, "why would you want to help take my mother down?"

Henry leered across the table at her, his gaze wandering up and down her body. "Well," he drawled, "there is that obvious reason."

Agatha resisted the urge to roll her eyes again, instead forcing a smile. "Besides that," she said, her voice teasing.

"Besides that..." he paused dramatically, running a hand through his greasy hair. "Let's just say I'm up for a promotion at my job, you know. I've been working towards it for years."

Agatha narrowed her eyes. She knew that Henry was desperate to move up, but what did that have to do with this? "And...?" she prompted.

"Let's say Mr.Linz's retirement is long overdue" Henry clarified. "And the files I'm going to hand you... implicate my father. It's just a gentle way to give him the retirement push he needs. I don't see him fit anymore."

Agatha raised an eyebrow. "Hm, yeah, jail really does seem like a suitable home for any elderly person" she deadpanned.

Henry laughed and placed his hand over hers, circling the nub of Agatha's finger with his thumb. Agatha almost gagged.

Henry then continued. "Maybe for your mother, yes. But my father just got involved in enough to make him step down from the position," a conspirational smirk appeared in his face. 

Agatha chuckled, batting her eyelashes at him in a way that made her feel dirty even as she did it. "You really are a tricky bastard," she said, her voice playful.

Henry smirked, clearly mistaking her fake affection for genuine interest. "Oh, I know I am," he said, leaning back in his chair.

Agatha mentally counted to three, trying to keep the disdain out of her voice. She was not going to let this creep get to her. "So, you help me take out my mother, and I help you wipe out Mr. Linz," she said.

"That's the idea," Henry spoke with a sly smile. "We help each other out, and both get what we want. And who knows, maybe there's more we can help each other out with-"

"So, Henry. Dessert?" Agatha cut him off mid-sentence before her stomach did a 360 degree turn and her entrails came flying out of her throat.

His eyes darkened slightly, and she could practically see the gears turning in his head. He thought he had her, thought she was slipping back into old patterns.

"Well.." He reached into his pocket and slid a flash drive across the table. "Everything you need. Happy?"

Agatha picked it up, turning it between her fingers. Relief curled in her chest, but she kept her expression neutral. "Finally. Now, if you’ll excuse me—"

Before she could stand, Henry's hand shot out, catching her wrist. "Leaving so soon? I was hoping we could... catch up. Properly."

She yanked her arm back, her composure barely holding. "Not in this lifetime or the next, Henry."

His smirk returned, but there was something sharper beneath it now, something darker. "You always did know how to break a man’s heart, Aggie. Shame you’re still so good at it."

Agatha stood, adjusting her coat with a composed smile. "And you’re still just as predictable, Henry."

She walked out without looking back, her heels clicking against the pavement, her pulse hammering in her ears. Once she was outside, she took a deep breath, staring at the flash drive in her hand.

Victory, but at what cost?

Her stomach twisted as memories of Henry, of their history, clawed their way back to the surface. The fights, the suffocating expectation, the way she’d smiled through it all, pretending. Always pretending.

And now she was pretending again, only this time the stakes were higher.

She shoved the flash drive into her pocket and reached for her phone to call Ralph to pick her up, trying not to think about how much she hated herself for all of this.

At least, the cold night air was a welcome contrast to the suffocating heat of the evening. Her fingers trembled slightly as she reached for her phone, scrolling through her contacts to call her driver.

Then—

A hand slipped around her waist from behind, a possessive grip. A voice, warm and slick with amusement, ghosted against her ear.

"You didn't think you could get me all riled up and then just leave like that, did you?"

Agatha's entire body stiffened. The voice was unmistakable—Henry. Before she could shove him off, his hand moved swiftly, sliding into her coat pocket. She barely registered before he withdrew it, the flash drive now resting between his fingers.

"Pff, Aggie," he murmured, his lips just inches from her ear. "You always were too eager."

Agatha swallowed, ice flooding her veins. "Put it back, Henry. We had a deal," she said, keeping her voice low and steady, refusing to let him hear the tremor beneath it.

He chuckled, the sound smug and satisfied. "Now, now. You know how this works. You don't just take from me and walk away." His grip on her waist tightened slightly, fingers pressing into the fabric of her dress, firmly. "I was actually hoping we'd make a whole night of it."

She stiffened, her heart hammering. Her eyes darted to the front of the restaurant, where the valet stood idly by, and through the window, silhouettes of influential figures mingled under the warm glow of chandeliers. Henry leaned in, his voice dripping with warning. "You don't want to make a scene here, do you, darling? Not with all these potential voters watching."

Agatha’s jaw clenched, her breath shallow. He knew exactly what he was doing. He had planned it this way—the choice of restaurant, the proximity of important eyes, the thin veil of decorum that suffocated any chance of escape.

"Everything alright, ma’am?" The valet’s voice sliced through the tension like a blade.

Henry’s fingers dug into her ribs, a sharp, bruising pressure that stole her breath for a second.

"The lady's just feeling a bit dizzy," Henry said smoothly, flashing his trademark smile. "I’ll take care of her."

Agatha could feel the pressure in her ribs, a silent threat, a reminder of who was in control of the situation. Her eyes met the valet’s for a split second, and she could see the question in them. But she couldn’t risk it. Not here. Not now.

She forced a smile, her voice strained. "I’m fine. Just... a little lightheaded."

The valet hesitated but nodded, handing Henry his car keys and stepping back. And in that moment, Henry steered her toward his car.

"That's my girl," he whispered, a dark satisfaction lacing his words as he opened the door and gently—too gently—urged her inside.

Agatha slid into the seat, her pulse a drumbeat in her ears. The door shut with a finality that made her stomach churn.

Henry rounded the car, slipping into the driver’s seat with an air of victory. The flash drive dangled between his fingers as he twirled it lazily.

"I hope you don’t mind a little drive," he said, his grin wolfish. "We have so much to catch up on."

Agatha clenched her fists, nails digging into her palms. Her mind raced through options, through exits, through any chance to turn the tide.

"You won't get away with this," she said, her voice colder than she felt.

Henry smirked, turning the ignition. "Oh, Aggie," he sighed, feigning disappointment. "I already have."

**

Agatha sat in the passenger seat, her hands clenched so tightly in her lap that her knuckles had turned white and her fingernails where carved in her skin. The road lights faded behind them, swallowed by the dark, winding roads that stretched into nowhere.

Henry put some random song on the radio.

She stole a glance at him, his face illuminated with dashboard light. The flash drive was gone, slipped right from her pocket like it was nothing. She should’ve seen it coming, should’ve been quicker, but she let herself fall into his game. Now, she was trapped in his car, being driven to god knows where.

Then, realization hit her like a freight train.

She recognized the road.

No.

Her stomach twisted violently as she glanced out the window, the familiar winding path leading up to a secluded overlook she hadn’t been to in years. Where she lost her virginity to him. Some desolate place in the middle of nowhere where teenagers used to park their cars, laugh, and stumble through their first awkward encounters. Her chest constricted, and the taste of bile rose in her throat.

"Oh, come on, Aggie," Henry's voice cut through the thick silence, smooth and sickening. "Don't tell me you don't remember this place." His fingers tapped the wheel, and he shot her a sideways glance, his lips curling into a grin that made her skin crawl. "I figured it’d be nice to relive some old memories."

Agatha forced herself to stay still, to keep her breathing steady, but the panic was building, clawing at the edges of her resolve. She glanced at her phone inside her purse, hoping he didn't notice, praying for a signal, but—nothing. No service. Of course, he’d pick a place like this. Her pulse hammered in her ears as she curled her fingers tighter into the fabric of her dress.

"Let me out," she said, her voice low, controlled.

Henry chuckled, leaning back in his seat like he had all the time in the world. "Relax. Just thought we could catch up... properly this time. You know, without all the politics getting in the way."

Her eyes darted to the door handle. She tugged it. Locked.

"Unlock the door, Henry," she snapped, forcing steel into her voice.

His smirk deepened. "Where's the fun in that?"

Her chest heaved with shallow breaths, and she felt the first licks of fear turning into full-blown panic. She needed to get out. Now.

"Don't do this," she said, trying to sound calm, but the tremor in her voice betrayed her.

Henry leaned closer, his hand settling on the back of her seat. "Do what, Aggie? You act like I'm the bad guy here. But you’re the one who called me back, remember?" His fingers traced the edge of her hair, and she recoiled. "You always did like to pretend you were above it all, but deep down... I think you miss it."

Agatha's stomach churned. The weight of him, the memories, the way he always knew how to press exactly where it hurt. She shoved at the door handle again, shaking it this time. "Unlock the fucking door, Henry."

He sighed dramatically, rolling his eyes. "So uptight. Fine, I get it, you’re all serious now. No fun."

"Unlock. The fucking. Door." Agatha repeated, losing her patience for the thousandth time that night.

Henry's smirk only widened, the dim light casting sinister shadows across his face. "You're always so dramatic, Aggie," he said, voice dripping with condescension. "Just enjoy the nostalgia." He leaned closer, his breath hot against her cheek. "You used to love it here."

A cold shiver ran down Agatha's spine. Her fingers scrambled at the door handle again, nails scraping against the metal as she yanked and pulled, but it was no use. Still locked. "Unlock the fucking door, Henry!" she snapped, her voice cracking despite her best efforts.

Henry tilted his head, watching her like a predator cornering its prey. "You're always in such a hurry to leave me," he murmured. "But you came to me, remember? I think you secretly missed me."

"LET ME OUT, NOW!" Agatha barked, her heart pounding against her ribs like a war drum.

Henry sighed, running a hand through his hair with infuriating nonchalance. "You used to be fun, Agatha. What happened to you?"

Panic flooded her veins even more. She reached for the door handle again, jerking it with enough force to bruise her palms. Nothing. The door stayed shut, trapping her. Her breaths grew erratic, and a sickening pressure built in her chest. She twisted, her elbow slamming into the window with desperate force. The glass rattled but held firm. "Let me the fuck out!" she screamed, her voice raw.

Henry let out a dark, hollow sound. "Calm down you bitch" he now shouted back, "YOU'RE MAKING ME LOSE MY PATIENCE!"

Agatha barely heard him over the rush of blood in her ears. She struck the window again, harder, pain blooming up her arm. She didn't care. She needed out.

Then—

BANG.

A fucking gunshot.

So loud. So close.

The sound cracked through the night like a whip, freezing Agatha in place. Her world slowed to a crawl. Her breath hitched, her eyes wide, expecting the burn of a bullet slicing through her body. Had he finally snapped? Had he decided to end it right here?

Her mind gave up, counting the milliseconds, waiting for the wound.

She ended up waiting for a pain that never came.

Instead, Henry cursed under his breath. "What the fuck?!" he let out, turning to the side to watch where the sound came from.

The bullet had hit the back tire.

Agatha whipped her head towards the sound, her vision momentarily blinded by a flood of high beams piercing through the dark. Henry squinted, shielding his eyes. The lights had been aimed perfectly, obscuring their view.

Another car had pulled up behind them.

Agatha blinked rapidly, trying to make out the shape behind the blinding glare. Then, she heard it.

A car door slammed. Hard.

Agatha's heart clenched. A robbery?

A figure got out of the car and walked to Henry's side. Agatha could only make out a silhouette, her vision cut off by the height of the car, which only let her see a hand holding a gun and a black jacket.

The person kept walking and lined up with Henry, raised the gun and pointed it at Henry's head, still outside the car.

"Unlock the fucking car!" A voice cut through the tension like a knife.

Rio.

"I-" Henry muttered, shifting in his seat, he was about to shit himself in his own car, but Agatha barely noticed him now.

Rio stood outside, gun aimed steady at Henry through the driver's side window, her face an unreadable mask of rage and determination. The lights from her car now illuminated her full figure, casting her shadow over the hood of Henry's sleek vehicle like an omen.

"Don't make me say it again," Rio warned, flicking the gun's safety off again, making a click sound.

Anticipation.

Her voice spoke again, now razor-sharp. "Unlock the fucking door, Henry." And she pressed the gun's tip completely against the window, perfectly aligned with Henry's head.

Henry's jaw clenched. Agatha could feel the heat of his frustration radiating off him, but even he wasn't stupid enough to push his luck at fucking gunpoint.

Agatha swallowed, eyes locked onto Rio. For a moment, relief flooded through her, mixing with the lingering fear curling around her spine.

Click.

The sound of the locks disengaging echoed like salvation.

Agatha didn't wait. She shoved the door open, stumbling out, feeling the cold air hit her flushed skin. She walked to Rio, who caught her by the arm, steadying her, but her eyes never left Henry and the gun wasn't pulled back from the previous aim.

Rio didn't flinch. "If you so much as lay a finger on her again, I'm pulling this trigger. ¿Te queda claro, hijo de puta?"

Agatha could feel the rage simmering under Rio's words, the barely contained fury in her stance. But more than anything, she felt safe.

And, what the-

Did Rio just-

Was that spanish?

Henry rolled his eyes and revved the engine. "Fine" he said, flashing Agatha one last look before peeling out of the lot, leaving with his tire completely flat. 

The silence that followed was deafening.

Agatha exhaled shakily, taking one step closer to Rio, who was in front of her. "You—"

"Don't," Rio cut her off, still shielding Agatha with her body. "Let's just get you out of-"

Her phrase was cut off by a rush motion. Agatha had pulled Rio to face her. "Rio..." she whispered, reaching for the back of Rio's neck.

"Agatha, I-"

And Agatha kissed her.

It wasn’t gentle. It wasn’t sweet. It was demanding, insistent, a rush of pent-up emotion that had no other outlet. Agatha’s lips moved against Rio’s with an urgency that she hadn’t planned, but once their mouths collided, there was no stopping it.

Rio froze for just a moment, the gun in her hand still caught between them, but then Agatha felt the tension break. Rio was kissing her back, just as fiercely, one of her hands moving to Agatha’s waist, pulling her in closer.

Agatha’s pulse quickened as she pressed herself against Rio, feeling the firm heat of her body, the way Rio’s chest rose and fell with each breath. The kiss deepened, as if neither of them could pull away. It felt like fire, like the world had narrowed to just the two of them, nothing else existing but this moment.

Rio pulled back slightly, her chest heaving, her breath uneven. Agatha’s lips followed the curve of her jaw, trailing down to her neck, and Rio shuddered. It was all too much, but it wasn’t enough. Agatha wanted more—wanted all of her, wanted to feel the tension that still simmered beneath Rio’s cool exterior.

“How the hell did you find me?” Agatha’s voice was low, breathless, her lips still hovering near Rio’s skin, the question slipping out before she could stop it. She wasn’t sure if she wanted the answer or if she just needed to hear Rio speak.

Rio’s other hand went to Agatha’s waist, steadying herself against the intensity of the moment, completely forgetting the cold gun still placed in her hand. Agatha shivered when she felt the coldness of the gun pressing against the fabric of her dress. 

Rio's voice was barely a whisper when she finally responded. “I… tracked you. Your phone. We had the location still on from before, when you—” Her words faltered, as if the confession was somehow more than she’d intended.

Agatha’s brow furrowed, but she didn’t let go of Rio, not yet. She wanted to understand. “You followed me?” Her lips curled into a teasing smile, the playful edge in her voice not matching the intensity of the situation.

Rio’s eyes darted away for just a moment, a flush creeping up her neck. She swallowed hard. “It wasn’t... I didn’t mean—" Rio stammered, her usual confidence crumbling under Agatha’s gaze. "I just... saw you on the map. I was thinking about reaching out. But then- Look! The signal died out in the middle of nowhere. And I thought... I thought I’d better follow you. Make sure you were- Okay."

Agatha’s lips brushed against Rio’s ear, soft and teasing, sending a shiver through her. “So, you tracked me down because you were worried?” she murmured. Her voice was low, seductive in a way that made Rio’s breath hitch, made her whole body tense.

Rio’s eyes flickered to Agatha’s for a moment, a small smile tugging at the corner of her lips despite the situation. “I wasn’t stalking you,” Rio said quickly, though the slight flush on her cheeks betrayed her. She seemed almost embarrassed by her own admission.

But Agatha wasn’t having it. She was already close enough to feel Rio’s pulse racing beneath her skin, the heat building between them again.

“You weren’t stalking me,” Agatha echoed, her lips curling into a smirk. “But you wanted to.”

She didn’t give Rio a chance to respond before her hands slid lower, pushing Rio towards with a force that sent them both crashing against Rio’s car.

The cold metal of the gun pressed against Agatha’s waist.

The gun's safety off.

She didn’t care.

All she could feel was Rio’s body, the way she was leaning into her, the way she responded to every touch.

Rio gasped as Agatha’s lips found her neck again, her breath ragged and unsteady. Agatha was relentless, her hands roaming, her lips leaving a trail of heat on Rio’s skin. “Tell me, Rio,” Agatha whispered against her throat, her voice rough with desire, “how much of this was about finding me... and how much was about wanting me?”

Rio didn’t answer right away. She couldn’t. All she could do was tremble against Agatha.

Rio’s hand trembled, the feeling of Agatha’s touch making her body betray her. The gun slipped from her fingers as if it were too heavy, too insignificant in the face of what was happening. It clattered to the ground, the sound sharp in the heavy silence that followed.

Agatha’s gaze flickered down to the weapon, her eyes narrowing as she caught sight of the gun at her feet. There was a quiet moment, an understanding between them, before she bent down and picked it up with a slow, deliberate movement. She turned it over in her hands, letting it rest against her palm. Her fingers traced the barrel, a small smirk curving her lips as she met Rio’s gaze.

“You’re not answering me, Rio,” Agatha’s voice was low, teasing, a playful edge to her words. She raised an eyebrow, the gun still resting casually in her hands.

Rio swallowed, her chest tightening as she watched Agatha’s every movement. The way her fingers danced over the gun, the way she held it with an ease that almost mocked the danger it represented, made something stir deep within her. She had always been in control, always kept her emotions tight to her chest, but with Agatha, it felt like everything was slipping, unraveling.

Agatha’s eyes didn’t leave Rio as she toyed with the gun. “Still haven’t answered me, Rio. How much of this was about finding me... and how much was about wanting me?”

Rio’s heart was pounding, her mind racing. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Agatha’s presence, her proximity, it all seemed to heighten everything—her senses, her pulse, her every thought. She could feel Agatha’s breath against her skin, feel the way their bodies were pressed together, the gun placed in Agatha's palm right in the middle of them.

It was intoxicating.

Agatha stepped back, her fingers gently caressing the surface of the gun as she held it in front of Rio, just inches away. The teasing nature in her movements sent a thrill through Rio, her breath catching in her throat. Agatha looked at her, up and down.

Agatha fitted the gun into her own hand as if it wasn't the first time. Her gaze darkened and a tantalizing smirk appeared on her face.

She proceeded to fit the gun under Rio's chin, lifting it slightly to align their gazes.“I think you want to tell me, don’t you?” Agatha’s voice was barely a whisper, a dangerous one.

Rio’s lips parted, but no sound came again. She was hypnotized. Her hand, still trembling slightly, reached for Agatha’s wrist-the one holding the gun.

Agatha’s smirk deepened, and she pressed the gun deeper, holding it against the side of Rio’s neck as if testing her, as if measuring just how far she could push.

“And why do you have a gun, sweetheart?” Agatha continued, her tone a mix of teasing and something deeper, darker.

Rio's grip on her wrist tightened, like she was playing back. "In case I need to blow my father's brains out." She smirked.

Agatha pressed the gun again, making Rio choke. “And what is it you want from me?”

Rio could barely focus, could barely think. The touch of the cold barrel against her skin only intensified the fire building inside.

Why was she turned on? Agatha, just standing there, holding a gun against her neck. 

God, what a woman. 

Rio dug her nails into Agatha's wrist and finally spoke. “You know what I want.”

Agatha’s smile widened, and she leaned in closer, her lips brushing against Rio’s ear as she whispered, “Then show me.”

Rio felt a shiver run down her spine at the words, at the feeling of Agatha’s breath against her skin. She had never been this vulnerable before, never let her guard down in this way. 

Agatha stepped back slightly, still holding the gun loosely, almost as if daring Rio to do something, to move, to make the next step. “Do you want this, Rio?”

Rio's hand was now guiding Agatha's wrist to press the gun towards her own lips.

“I do” Rio said, her voice low and teasing, the words carrying a weight that only Agatha could feel. 

Without breaking eye contact, Rio brought her tongue to the tip of the gun, tracing it slowly, deliberately. She could feel the weight of Agatha’s gaze.

The tip of her tongue slid down the metal, her lips following. Rio moaned and Agatha parted her lips, her expression filled with ecstasy.

When Rio pulled back, she let the gun fall from her mouth slowly. Her eyes never leaving Agatha's.

“Pew” Rio said, imitating a soft gunshot, her face dripping with mock seriousness.

Agatha’s lips parted slightly, her breath catching at the sight of Rio’s daring move.

Rio stepped closer and whispered. 

"You're gonna be the death of me, Agatha Harkness."

Agatha dropped the gun. Her hands now reaching for Rio's neck in a rush motion and a hungry kiss being placed on her lips.

"Take me to hell with you, then." 

Chapter Text

Take me to hell with you, then. 

The statement echoed in Rio’s mind like a mantra. Agatha seemed to be asking for more, more closeness - not only physical, but emotional.

Without thinking twice, already swallowed by desire and too lost in wanting, Rio finally spoke.

“Pull the trigger, Agatha.”

Those simple words hovered in the air for a second. A command that revealed more than physical need.

Agatha took a step back and let go of Rio’s embrace, who continued leaning against the car.

“And what if the bullet hits me?” Agatha asked, closing her eyes while she spoke, her tone now less confident than before.

Rio reached out, grabbed her hand and took it to rest on her chest - right over her heart. “The bullet is already here.“

Agatha kept her palm pressed on her chest, and it stayed there for a while. Rio’s heartbeat increased as she intensely aligned her eyes with Agatha.The realization of what Rio was really saying hit Agatha in her own heart.

She wants this. 
She wants this too. 
She wants me. 

“You’re not-“ Agatha swallowed dryly before continuing. Her palm still very aware of Rio’s heartbeat “you’re not just fucking around with me?”

Agatha's fingers curled slightly against Rio's chest, like she was trying to pull her heart out and feel it. She searched her eyes, desperate for something, anything to anchor her. "Rio, don't-" she continued.

Rio tilted her head, ache building in her chest. How could Agatha feel so unlovable?

"Agatha, I'm not playing you. Why would I?"

Agatha huffed out a quiet laugh, but there was no humor in it. Her gaze drifted down, lingering on where her hand still rested against Rio’s chest, and when she looked back up, her expression was raw, open in a way Rio had never seen before. "I don't want to be another mistake you regret."

Rio’s grip on her tightened. "And I don't want to be the reason you run."

Agatha blinked, something flickering in her eyes. Fear. Longing. "I don't run from things. But- Anything seems easier than... this."

Rio reached up, tucking a stray strand of hair behind Agatha’s ear, her fingers lingering there for a moment longer than they should. "I'm not asking you to be with me. I'm asking you to stop lying to yourself."

Agatha's breath hitched, and before she could stop herself, she leaned in, pressing her forehead to Rio’s. The warmth of her skin, the scent of her—everything about this felt too much, too soon, too late.

"Tell me this isn't just a game," Agatha whispered, her lips brushing against Rio’s as she spoke.

Rio closed her eyes, letting the moment settle between them before whispering back, "I'm too tired for games, Agatha."

Agatha swallowed, hard, feeling the pressure building in her chest, the weight of years of denial pressing down on her ribs like a vice. Her throat tightened, and she could feel the sting of unshed tears burning behind her eyes. She had spent so long pretending, locking away parts of herself, pretending they didn’t exist.

But Rio was here.

Rio was real.

And those feelings—those fucking feelings—wouldn’t go away.

"I want you," Agatha said suddenly, her voice cracking under the weight of it all. She shook her head, frustrated, as a single tear slipped down her cheek. She wiped it away furiously. "God, I want you so damn much, Rio. But I don’t know how. I don’t know how to—"

Rio took her face in her hands, gentle yet firm, her thumbs brushing softly against Agatha’s cheekbones. "You don't have to know how to tell the world," she murmured. "Not yet. You can take your time figuring it out. Just... don't shut me out."

Agatha closed her eyes for a moment as if trying to hold it together, but she couldn’t. The dam burst, and she sobbed, a raw, wounded sound escaping her throat. "I don’t want to give up this part of myself just because of what the world might think!" she cried, her voice cracking under the weight of her own fears. "I don’t! But it’s so fucking hard, Rio. It’s hard to undo everything I’ve been taught, everything I’ve forced myself to believe. That fucking image I've built for years and years-"

Rio wrapped her arms around her, pulling her close, letting Agatha shake in her embrace. "I know," she whispered. "I know it’s hard. But I’m right here. I’m not going anywhere."

Agatha clung to her, her fingers digging into Rio’s black jacket as if letting go would mean losing herself entirely. "I can't keep pretending. Not with you. I see you and—" She pulled back just enough to look into Rio’s eyes, searching for something, anything. "I see you, and I just want. I want everything."

Rio’s breath hitched at the admission, and for a moment, she looked just as lost in the moment as Agatha did.

"I think about you all the time," Rio confessed, her voice low. Her eyes locked with Agatha's. "I think about you when I wake up, wondering if you’re lying in bed staring at the ceiling like I do. I think about the way you look when you're pissed off—like you could set the whole world on fire. I think about your lips, the way they taste like trouble and bad decisions. And I think about what it would feel like to have you next to me every damn night, not just in fleeting moments."

Agatha exhaled sharply, her pulse hammering against her ribs. "Rio..."

"I want you," Rio continued, her voice unwavering. "In every way that matters. Not just for one night. Not just because you set my body on fire while you're on top of me, or under me," she chuckled "I want you because you drive me insane, because you make me laugh when I don’t want to, because you make me feel alive in ways I didn’t even think were possible anymore."

Agatha shook her head, overwhelmed, but before she could speak, Rio leaned in, her lips brushing against the corner of Agatha’s mouth. It was soft, hesitant, and yet it carried the weight of everything unspoken between them.

"You don’t have to have all the answers," Rio whispered against her skin. "But you have to let yourself feel this. Because I can't keep waiting for you to be ready while you're running from it."

Agatha closed her eyes, another tear slipping down her cheek. "I want you so much it scares the hell out of me."

Rio nodded, resting her forehead against Agatha’s again. "Me too. But I’d rather be scared with you than without you."

Silence stretched between them, heavy and thick, but it wasn’t suffocating anymore. It felt like something new, something waiting to be discovered.

Finally, Agatha let out a shaky laugh, a little bitter but laced with something softer. "You’re dangerous."

Rio smirked, wiping the last of Agatha’s tears away with her thumb. "And you’re a fucking mess. But I’m still here."

Agatha stared at her for a long moment, then nodded. "Okay. Just... stay with me. For now."

Rio smiled, taking Agatha’s hand in hers. "I'm not going anywhere."

Agatha let out a shuddering breath, her hands trembling as they clutched Rio's jacket, pulling her closer. "Then come closer," she whispered.

Rio didn't need to be told twice. In an instant, their lips collided in a hungry, desperate kiss. Agatha melted into it, her body molding against Rio's like they were made for each other. Hands roamed—Rio's fingers tangled in Agatha's hair, while Agatha's hands clawed at Rio's back, pressing their bodies together until there was no space left between them.

Agatha gasped as Rio's lips trailed down her neck, leaving a path of heat in their wake. Her knees buckled, and Rio caught her with ease, pressing her back against the car with a low groan. "You really drive me crazy," Rio muttered against her skin, her breath hot and ragged.

Agatha tilted her head back, giving in to the sensation, her hands exploring under Rio's jacket, feeling the warmth of her body beneath the layers. "Then lose your mind," she teased, her voice husky, eyes hooded with desire.

Rio's response was immediate—she claimed Agatha's mouth again and, in one swift motion, she turned and slammed Agatha to her position agaisnt the car, never leaving her lips. Her tongue sliding against hers in a deep, french kiss that left them both breathless. Agatha arched into her touch, fingers fumbling with the buttons of Rio's shirt, desperate to feel more, to take more.

Rio chuckled against her lips, her hands finding their way to Agatha's waist, gripping firmly. "That's no way to behave, Congresswoman" she murmured in a teasing tone.

She enjoyed watching Agatha come undone beneath her touch. She loved how hungry she was. How she craved for more and more each time.

"Shut up," Agatha shot back, capturing Rio’s lips once more, pouring every ounce of her frustration, longing, and need into the kiss.

Their bodies pressed together in perfect sync, the heat between them electric. Agatha's breath hitched when Rio's hands slipped beneath her dress, grabbing her ass firmly. She moaned.

Rio kept massaging her ass while she kissed her again.

When Rio broke the kiss, she whispered. "Tell me you want this," her lips brushing against Agatha’s ear.

Agatha's grip tightened, her nails digging into Rio's back through the slighty open shirt. "I do. I want you."

With that, Rio lifted her onto the hood of the car, settling between her legs. 

"God, Rio..." Agatha moaned.

Rio's hands continued to lift Agatha's dress again. Her fingers pressed hard into her thighs as they slowly moved upward.

Finally, they reached her waist, but remained lingering.

As she hooked the band of Agatha's panties around her fingers, Rio pressed a wet kiss to her neck. Then, under the earlobe. Then she bit down gently.

Agatha's breath hitched as Rio's teeth grazed her earlobe, sending shivers down her spine. She could feel the heat of Rio's body pressed against her core.

Rio's fingers hooked the band of Agatha's panties, and with a swift tug, they were gone. Agatha gasped as the cool night air brushed against her sensitive skin. Rio's hands slid up her thighs, her fingers tracing the outline of her pussy lips.

"You're so wet, Agatha," Rio murmured.

Agatha could feel her fingertips pressing against her entrance, and she moaned softly as Rio began to push inside her. Rio pushed just the tip of her fingers, teasing.

Agatha wrapped her legs around Rio's waist, pulling her closer.

"Rio..." she moaned. "More." 

Rio licked her lips as she looked what Agatha. Her wetness wrapping around her fingers. 

She pushed two fingers inside in one swift motion, curling them up.

Agatha moaned, her body responding immediately. She ran her hands through Rio's hair, pulling her closer.

"Oh, Rio," Agatha breathed, her voice hoarse with desire. "You feel so good inside me."

"Such a good girl," her thrusts stronger now "so wet for me" Rio praised.

She kissed Agatha while she kept pumping her fingers. Her thumb found her clit and started to trace circles while her fingers went in and out.

In and out. 

Stronger. 

Faster.

"I want you to-" Agatha moaned. "Fuck, I- I need your mouth."

Rio nodded, her eyes never leaving Agatha's.

She knelt between Agatha's legs, her eyes locked onto her pussy. She could see the wetness glistening on Agatha's lips, and she knew that she wanted to taste every inch of her.

Agatha moaned softly as Rio's tongue flicked out, tracing the outline of her folds. Rio's fingers moved to spread Agatha's pussy wide, giving her full access.

Rio's tongue dipped inside Agatha, licking at her clit with long, slow strokes. Agatha's hips bucked slightly, her body responding to the sensation. Rio's tongue moved lower, tracing the length of Agatha's slit before moving back up to her clit.

Agatha moaned louder, her hands pressed against the car hood as Rio's tongue continued to explore her body. Rio's fingers moved to rub Agatha's entrance, sending shivers down her spine.

She massaged all around.

She massaged her folds.

Her fingers opening in V.

Her thumbs rolling all over.

Rio could notice Agatha's cum dripping from her cunt already - and moaned at the sight. She took her tongue to Agatha's entrance once again, and licked her clean while her thumbs worked all around.

"Oh, Rio," Agatha breathed, her voice hoarse with desire. "That feels so good."

Rio's tongue moved faster, her lips wrapping around Agatha's clit as she sucked gently. Agatha cried out, her body trembling with pleasure. Rio's fingers moved lower, sliding inside Agatha's pussy as she continued to lick and suck on her clit.

"Rio," Agatha moaned, her body arching as she felt the pleasure building inside her. She spoke in between thrusts "I- I can't h-hold it m-much longer"

Rio smirked into her cunt. She didn't stop. Her tongue moved in circles around Agatha's clit, her fingers moving faster inside her.

"Baby-"

"Oh my god"

"Fuck, Rio!"

"Ohhh, I'm gonna-"

Rio slowed down for a second and she looked up. Her fingers still pumping. "Come for me."

Agatha moaned, her hips bucking as she felt the pleasure intensify. "I'm g-gonna come for you."

"Fuck, yes"

"Yes, just like that baby"

"So close, oh Ri-"

Rio's fingers moved faster, rubbing against her G-spot as she continued to lick and suck on her clit.

Agatha's body convulsed as she climaxed, her cries echoing through the woods. Her muscles clenched around Rio's fingers, and she could feel the cum of pleasure washing over her.

Rio continued to work her magic, prolonging the pleasure as Agatha's body trembled with ecstasy.

"Fuck, I-" Agatha moaned as she came for good. "I love you."

Cum all over Rio's fingers. Her jaw dripping.

As the intensity of her orgasm subsided, Agatha collapsed back on the car hood, her legs still shaking.

Rio stood up. Confused, but a bit scared.

The weight of what she had just said hung heavy in the air, thick and suffocating. Agatha's eyes fluttered open, the realization settling into her bones like a shockwave.

Rio froze, standing over her, her chest rising and falling in shallow breaths. Her eyes, sweet and searching, bore into Agatha. "What did you-" she blinked, "What did you just say?"

Agatha swallowed, her throat suddenly dry. "I-" She blinked up at Rio, vulnerability written all over her face. "I love you."

Rio looked away for a moment, running a hand through her hair, smearing Agatha's essence across her jaw as she did. "You don't have to say that," she muttered, her voice hoarse, almost afraid to believe it.

Agatha sat up, reaching for her, her fingers trembling. "I'm not taking it back," she said, voice steady despite the way her body still buzzed with aftershocks. "I meant it. I fucking love you, Rio."

Rio exhaled sharply, looking down at her, her eyes now softening. She cupped Agatha's face, thumb brushing over her cheek, still damp with sweat. "Do you know how long I've wanted to hear you say that?"

Agatha leaned into the touch, her lips parting slightly, her gaze heavy with unspoken things. "Then why do you look like you're about to run?"

Rio let out a small, breathless laugh, her forehead resting against Agatha's. "Because I've been waiting for this moment so long, it almost doesn't feel real. And because... if I let myself have you, for real, I don't think I'll ever be able to let you go."

Agatha slid her hands down Rio’s arms, gripping her wrists, grounding her. "Then don’t."

Rio searched her eyes for any trace of doubt, but all she found was raw, aching honesty. Without another word, she kissed her again, slow and deep.

Agatha moaned into the kiss, her hands slipping under Rio's shirt, desperate to feel her again, to claim every inch of her. Rio gasped at the contact, her body arching into Agatha’s touch as their kiss deepened, growing hungrier, needier.

"I can't believe you love me," Rio murmured against her lips, her hands roaming down Agatha's sides, like she was memorizing the curves she'd already known by heart but never allowed herself to cherish like this.

"Believe it," Agatha whispered, pressing hot, open-mouthed kisses along Rio's jawline, down to her neck. "Because I do."

Rio moaned, tilting her head back as Agatha's teeth scraped over her pulse point. "Say it again."

Agatha grinned against her skin, voice thick with desire. "I love you, Rio. And I don't want to waste any more time pretending I don't."

Rio's breath hitched, and in an instant, she was pulling Agatha closer, their bodies pressed together, Agatha's legs wrapped around her. "Then don't," she whispered before capturing Agatha’s lips once more.

** 

Agatha shifted in the passenger seat, her fingers idly tracing patterns on the dashboard before she turned to Rio, a smirk playing on her lips. "So... can we go to your place tonight?" Her voice was low, sultry, teasing.

 "Agatha—" she started, but her voice hitched when Agatha’s hand slid up her thigh, slow and deliberate.

"Hmm?" Agatha murmured, leaning in slightly, her breath warm against Rio's ear. "Is that a yes?"

Rio swallowed hard, her eyes flickering between the dark road ahead and Agatha's mischievous expression. "You're gonna get us killed," she muttered, shifting in her seat.

Agatha chuckled, her fingers dancing higher, the heat of her touch sending electric currents up Rio's spine. "I trust your driving skills," she purred. "Besides, don't tell me you don't want me there."

Rio clenched her jaw, trying to focus on the road, but Agatha's touch was relentless. "I didn't say that. I just..." She could feel herself getting turned on. Her words trailed off, and Agatha took the opportunity to press a kiss to Rio’s jawline, just below her ear.

"Just what?" Agatha teased, her nails grazing over the fabric of Rio’s jeans. "Come on, you can say it."

Rio exhaled sharply, gripping the wheel tighter. "You are such a brat," she groaned, but the corners of her lips twitched.

Agatha laughed softly, her hand lingering, applying the slightest pressure. "Oh, me? You're one to talk" she moved her hand back down, resting it innocently on Rio's knee, but the damage was already done.

Rio shot her a glare. "You really think you're funny, huh?"

Agatha leaned back, stretching lazily in the seat. "Oh, I know I am." She watched Rio’s face, the battle waging beneath the surface, and bit her lip, satisfied. "But seriously... I don't want to be alone tonight."

That vulnerability hit Rio differently. She glanced at Agatha, really looking at her, and nodded. "I was already driving us both to my place."

Agatha smiled, genuine and soft. "Good girl."

**

As Rio pulled into her driveway, the soft hum of the engine faded, leaving only the rhythmic pounding of her heart in her ears. She shifted in her seat, her grip on the steering wheel tightening for a brief moment as the weight of realization settled in her chest.

She hadn’t said it back.

Agatha had whispered those three words—words Rio had imagined hearing from her countless times before—but she had been so caught up in the moment, in the feel of Agatha trembling beneath her touch, that she hadn’t responded. And Agatha told it, like twice. Or more? 

She loves Agatha. She really does. But she just-

Froze?

She hasn't said she loved anyone since Elena. She had had other partners after, but never anything solid, never anything serious.

"I love you" were words she had buried long ago. And, in truth, she didn't think she'd ever feel the need to say it again.

And now, sitting in the dim glow of the dashboard lights, she could feel the heaviness of it pressing down on her.

Was Agatha thinking about it? Rio swallowed hard, about to speak, when she felt a familiar warmth trailing up her thigh.

“Rio,” Agatha’s voice was low, teasing, her fingers ghosting over Rio's pants. “Are you planning to sit here all night?”

Rio’s breath hitched. She turned to look at Agatha, who sat there with that sweet smirk, the one that always managed to undo her in an instant. Her eyes bright with mischief, lips swollen from their earlier encounter.

“I—” Rio started, but the words died on her lips as Agatha leaned closer, her breath hot against her ear.

“Or maybe,” Agatha whispered, pressing a lingering kiss just below Rio’s jaw, “you’d rather stay out here. Round two?”

Rio exhaled sharply, trying to maintain control, but Agatha’s fingers were insistent, stroking her inner thigh with a maddening slowness that made concentrating nearly impossible.

“Fuck,” Rio muttered, shaking her head with a small, breathless laugh. “You’re going to be the death of me.”

Agatha grinned, her teeth grazing Rio’s earlobe. “Then take me inside before I finish you off right here.”

Without another word, Rio practically fumbled with the door handle, desperate to regain some sense of control. As they stumbled into her place, the tension between them thickened, electric and undeniable.

The moment the door clicked shut, Agatha was on her, pressing her against the wall, their mouths colliding in a frenzy of want. Rio’s hands found their way to Agatha’s waist, pulling her closer, needing to feel her, to drown in her.

“Hm, you're quiet” Agatha breathed against her lips. “Say something.”

"I-" Rio felt nervous.

Agatha pulled back slightly, searching Rio's eyes with a softness that felt too intimate. "Something wrong?"

Rio exhaled shakily, licking her lips. "No, it's just..."

Agatha smirked, and before Rio could gather her thoughts, she leaned in and kissed the corner of her mouth, then trailed her lips down to Rio’s jaw, her hands tracing soft patterns along her sides. "You’re thinking too much," she murmured against her skin.

Rio sighed, eyes fluttering shut. "Maybe."

Agatha’s hands moved lower, teasing the hem of Rio’s shirt, and she pressed her body closer. "I can distract you"

Rio let out a shaky laugh, but it dissolved into a quiet moan as Agatha's lips found the sensitive spot on her neck. "Agatha..."

"Hm?" Agatha hummed, nipping at Rio’s collarbone.

Rio swallowed, pushing down the lump forming in her throat. "Nothing," she finally muttered, her hands resting lightly on Agatha’s hips, anchoring her. 

Agatha, oblivious to the turmoil inside Rio, grinned and took her hand. "Come on," she whispered.

Agatha took her hand and led Rio to her own bedroom.

"Sit down" Agatha commanded, her voice low but firm.

Rio obeyed, settling on the edge of the bed, watching Agatha. Her heart pounded in her chest as Agatha slowly took her dress in front of her, exposing the delicate curves of her body inch by inch. She held Rio’s gaze, teasing, drawing out the moment.

"You’re so tense," Agatha murmured, unclasping her bra and letting it slide down her arms. She smirked as Rio’s eyes darkened. "Relax, baby. Let me take care of you."

Rio swallowed hard, her hands gripping the edge of the bed. "You're too good at this."

Agatha let out a soft laugh, stepping out of her heels and standing before Rio in nothing but her lace underwear. "Maybe. But only for you."

Then, slowly, deliberately, she sank to her knees in front of Rio, placing her hands on her thighs and looking up through her lashes. "I’m yours," she whispered, her voice raw with emotion. "If you want me."

And for a moment, Rio she couldn't speak.

The weight of Agatha’s words, the vulnerability in her eyes, cracked something open inside her. She reached down, cupping Agatha’s face with trembling hands.

"Agatha," she whispered, her voice barely more than a breath.

Agatha’s lips parted, her eyes searching Rio’s. "Yes, sweetheart?"

Rio exhaled, her thumb brushing over Agatha’s cheek. "I love you too. I really fucking do."

"I know." Agatha smirked. "Well, now I know...."

Rio still trembled as she stared down at Agatha, her fingers tracing delicate, trembling lines along her jaw. Agatha knelt between her legs, her bare skin feverish.

"I can't believe you’re real," Rio murmured, her voice breaking, her thumb ghosting over Agatha’s lips.

Agatha’s lips parted, letting Rio's fingertips trace her wet bottom lip. Then, she whispered "I’ve never been more real than I am right now."

Rio curled her fingers into Agatha’s hair, pulling into it to look better at her. "You wreck me," Rio whispered, her voice thick with need.

Agatha’s hands skimmed along Rio’s thighs, her touch reverent yet desperate. "Then let me put you back together," she murmured and then she bit Rio's leg, still above the fabric of her jeans.

Rio gasped, her head falling back, her grip tightening in Agatha’s hair. "Bitch"

Agatha smiled against her. She took her hands to unzip Rio's pants. "Careful who you call a bitch," she opened Rio's pants and took them off, "might have to remind you of your place."

As Agatha's hands slipped beneath the waistband of Rio's underwear, Rio's hips jerked upwards, her muscles tensing in anticipation.

Then, Agatha's lips brushed against her inner thigh, sending a jolt of electricity through her. Rio's grip on Agatha's hair tightened, her fingers tangling in the strands as she pulled her closer.

Rio's body trembled as Agatha's lips continued to explore her skin. Kissing everywhere but her cunt.

She could feel the heat building within her legs.

"Agatha," Rio whispered, her voice hoarse with desire. "Please."

Agatha looked up at her, her eyes dark with desire. "Please what?" she asked.

Rio's body arched upwards, her hips tilting towards Agatha's face as she begged for release.

"Please," Rio whispered, her voice barely audible over the sound of her own ragged breathing.

She gazed up at Rio, her voice husky. "Stand up," she commanded, her words dripping with authority.

"But-"

"I said stand up." Agatha repeated. "And don't speak."

Rio stood up.

"Put your hands against the wall."

She stumbled slightly, but Agatha's hands were there to steady her, guiding her towards the wall. Rio's palms slapped against the cool surface, her fingers splayed wide as she leaned forward, her hips tilting back.

"What do you want, Rio?" 

"I-" Rio started.

"I said don't speak," Agatha slapped her ass. "I'll ask again. What do you want?"

Rio pushed her hips back and opened her legs - as if asking for Agatha. Agatha looked between Rio's legs and noticed her cunt glistening with cum.

 Agatha took a step forward and ran a finger through Rio's folds."Oh, baby. How come you're already so wet?"

Rio moaned and rolled slightly against Agatha's hand. Her fingers still wandering through Rio's cunt.

"Let me take care of this for you baby." Agatha kneeled behind Rio, one hand in the back of each leg.

Rio arched to make room for Agatha, who licked from her dripping lips to the back. "Fuck, Agath-" 

Agatha slapped her ass again. Stronger this time. "I told you to stay quiet."

Rio just moaned and nodded.

Agatha continued by grabbing her ass cheeks and pressing them to the sides. Her tongue licked everything. 

Rio rolled against her tongue.

"Hmm, you taste so good," Agatha moaned.

She got up without warning and pressed two fingers inside Rio. The fingers easily entered and scraped against her wet walls.

Agatha continued to stick her fingers from behind, feeling Rio clenching around her. "That's it. You're taking me so well."

Rio moaned as she curved her fingers to just the right spot. 

"Agatha-" Rio moaned in between thrusts. "There's a-" she arched "-there's a strap in the drawer."

Agatha decided that this was way too interesting to make Rio stay quiet again.

"Hm. Is that what you want? You want me to fuck you open?" Agatha teased. Altough, she was reticent because she had never put on a toy like that.

"Y-yes" Rio kept rolling on her fingers. "I want to sit on you."

This idea really got Agatha excited. Quickly, she took his fingers out. Leaving Rio without air leaning against the wall.

She opened the drawer and took out the strap. A purple strap.

"Are you sure?" she opened her eyes at the size.

"I want to be completely filled by you." Rio said, her voice filled with need. "Need help putting that on?" Rio turned around and walked to her. 

"Please. Think I don't know how to strap myself? Baby, I skydive." Agatha started to place the strap in it's rightfull place.

"Not quite the same... I can-" Rio reached out.

"There, you see?" and Rio looked down and Agatha really knew how to strap herself.

Impressive.

Agatha set on the edge of the bed and she leaned a bit back. "Come here, sweetheart."

Rio walked up to her and, before sitting down, took her shirt off. Leaving her finally naked. Agatha stared at her with a smirk on her lips.

Rio also took the opportunity to bend down slightly and grab Agatha's jaw, pressing a wet kiss on her lips. She continued to kiss her for a moment and moaned into the kiss.

Agatha felt a slight stroke on the strap that was attached to herself. When she pulled back from the kiss, she noticed that Rio was stroking the strap, her hands wet. With-

God, was that her own cum?

That slut started to touch herself while kissing Agatha and was lubricating the strap with her cum?

Before Agatha could react, Rio climbed on her lap. And she sat like she was hungry for Agatha's cock. 

"Fuck..." Rio moaned. 

Agatha just stood there for a while. Frozen. Taking it all in. 

Rio started to go up and down, slowly. Her gaze fixed on Agatha. 

"You like what you see?" Rio looked down like she was commanding Agatha to stare too. 

And she did.

Her bare cunt, taking it all in. The strap wet. So wet.

In and out. 

The tip almost sliding out, but never leaving. 

Agatha moaned at the sight. She took her hands to Rio's sides and helped her ride. 

"Yes, just like that" Rio moaned. "Yes baby, help me ride your cock."

"You look so beautiful like this," Agatha couldn't help but stare at how beautiful Rio is.

"You look beautiful inside me," Rio grabbed her face and pull Agatha in for a kiss. 

While she kissed Agatha, a fervent kiss, she kept riding her. In between kisses she spoke.

"Fuck, Agatha"

"So close"

Agatha could feel the other end of the strap rubbing against her clit.

"Oh please, please. Fuck me harder."

She was starting to get sensitive too. It was hitting all the right nerves.

"God, yes, you're so hot."

She was dripping with cum already.

"I'm so close"

Agatha arched her hips up to stroke her harder.

She grabbed Rio's thights even harder and made her roll her hips. 

That made the strap massage her clit. 

Oh, god-

"Agatha-"

Agatha moaned loud and she kissed Rio so hard she couldn't breathe. 

She felt a wave of wet liquid reaching her legs. 

Rio was- 

Fuck, squirting all over her. 

Rio leaning her head back as she rode the last of her orgasm. 

That made the strap massage her clit just in the right spot. She thrusted into Rio as she moaned for her, cum all over her legs.

"Rio- Oh, FUCK" 

And she came. Hard. While Rio was riding her.

Rio chuckled breathlessly, her lips brushing against Agatha’s temple as she murmured, "Didn’t think you’d enjoy strapping me this much."

Agatha groaned, burying her face in Rio’s neck, her body still trembling from the aftershocks. "Shut up," she muttered.

"Oh, no way. I’m never letting you live this down," Rio teased, pressing a soft kiss to Agatha’s damp hair. She traced slow, lazy circles along Agatha’s back, grounding them both in the quiet aftermath. "You were amazing."

Agatha sighed, her grip on Rio loosening, her fingers now just resting lightly on her skin.

They lay there for a while, tangled up in each other, the sweat cooling on their skin. Rio stroked Agatha’s hair absentmindedly, feeling the steady rise and fall of her chest.

"You okay?" Rio finally asked, her voice softer now, more serious.

Agatha pulled back just enough to look at her, their eyes meeting in the dim light. "Yeah," she said, and for once, there was no hesitation, no guarded walls. "Yeah, I am."

Rio smiled, pressing a kiss to her forehead. "Good. I want you to be."

Agatha exhaled, her fingers trailing down Rio’s arm, tracing patterns only she understood. "I never knew we would end up like this."

"I know," Rio said, her thumb brushing over Agatha’s lips. "I like having you here."

Agatha swallowed hard, nodding. "Me too."

Rio hesitated for a moment before whispering, "Do you want to stay over?"

Agatha’s lips curled into a small smile, and she tucked herself closer, nuzzling into Rio’s warmth. "Yeah," she murmured. "I think I do."

Rio tightened her hold around Agatha, feeling something sweet settle in her chest.  "Good," she whispered. "Because I want you to."

"Next time we can roleplay using that gun of yours." Agatha laughed. 

Rio chuckled while she pulled her close. "You're crazy,” she kissed Agatha’s cheek. “But I do love you."

"Me too" Agatha whispered as she pressed a sweet kiss on Rio's lips.

And just like that, they let the silence wrap around them, safe and content in each other's arms, the night stretching out before them with unspoken promises.

Chapter Text

The morning light spilled softly through the blinds, casting golden streaks over the tangled sheets and the two bodies nestled beneath them.

Agatha stirred first, the warmth of Rio’s body against hers. It felt... good, in a way she hadn’t felt in… ever. Her eyes fluttered open, and for a second, she simply stared at Rio’s sleeping face.

She couldn’t help but smile. This felt like a stolen moment, a glimpse of a life she didn’t think she’d ever have.

She reached out, brushing a strand of hair away from Rio’s face, her fingers lingering just a moment longer to trace the curve of her cheek. Rio stirred then, letting out a soft, sleepy hum as her eyes slowly opened.

“Morning,” Agatha whispered, her voice raspy.

Rio blinked slowly a few times, a lazy smile then spreading across her face as she kept it buried in Agatha's neck. “Morning beautiful.”

For a bit, neither of them said anything. They just lay there, taking in the quiet intimacy of the morning.

“You look happy,” Rio said softly, her fingers brushing across Agatha’s belly and looking up.

“I am,” Agatha admitted, her smile growing. 

Rio leaned in, pressing a kiss to her lips. “You deserve to be.”

**

Breakfast was an unhurried affair, the kind that felt like it belonged in another lifetime. Agatha sat at Rio’s small kitchen table, sipping on coffee while Rio scrambled eggs on the stovetop. There was a comfortable ease between them, the kind that didn’t need words to fill the silence.

Agatha chuckled as Rio plated the eggs alongside toast and bacon. “Look at you, all domestic.”

Rio rolled her eyes, but her smile gave it away. “Don’t get used to it. This is a rare occurrence.”

“Noted,” Agatha teased, taking a bite. “But I’m enjoying it while it lasts.”

They ate in companionable silence for a while, until Rio set her fork down, her expression shifting slightly. “So…”

Agatha looked up, eyebrows raised. “So?”

“Last night... with Henry,” Rio began, her tone carefully casual, but the way her jaw tightened betrayed her.

Agatha tilted her head, smirking. “Jealous much?”

“I’m not jealous,” Rio said quickly, then sighed, realizing she was caught. “Okay, maybe a little.”

Agatha laughed softly, leaning back in her chair. “That piece of shit? You don’t have to be. Trust me.”

Rio nodded, but she still looked uneasy. “Did you… get what you needed from him?”

The question lingered in the air, and Agatha’s playful demeanor softened. She set her coffee cup down and leaned forward, her elbows resting on the table. “Not exactly.”

Rio’s brow furrowed. “What do you mean?”

“He took the flash drive from me,” Agatha admitted, her voice quiet but firm. “That’s why I ended up in the woods.”

Rio stiffened, her hand gripping the edge of the table. “He what? You went through all that for nothing?”

Agatha reached across the table, her fingers brushing against Rio’s. “Relax,” she said, her voice calm. “Let me finish.”

Rio’s gaze was sharp, her jaw clenched as she waited.

“Your little stunt,” Agatha continued, a small smirk tugging at her lips, “showing up with a gun and scaring the shit out of him..”

Rio’s lips twitched at the memory, but she stayed silent.

“It gave me just enough time to take the flash drive out of his pocket,” Agatha said, her smirk widening into a grin.

Rio blinked, her expression shifting from tense to incredulous. “You gotta be kidding.”

“Dead serious,” Agatha said, leaning back in her chair with a satisfied look. “While he was too busy panicking over you, I slipped it right out.”

Rio stared at her for a moment before letting out a low laugh, shaking her head. “Of course you did.”

“See? You’re not the only one who knows how to play dirty,” Agatha teased.

Rio’s eyes softened, a flicker of pride in her gaze. “You’re something, you know that?”

Agatha shrugged, but the blush creeping up her neck gave her away. “I’ve been told.”

Rio stood, moving around the table to pull Agatha up from her chair. “I mean it,” she said, her voice low and serious. “You amaze me when you get all sneaky.”

Agatha’s smirk faltered, replaced by a softer, more vulnerable expression. “Don’t get all mushy on me now,” she said, but her voice was barely above a whisper.

Rio chuckled, pulling her closer and pressing a soft kiss to her lips. “Too late.”

**

Agatha stepped out of Rio’s house.

She got it into her head that she would only open the contents of the flash drive as a last resort. Using dirty information, coming from someone dirty, was her last weapon. Sure, Professor Warren and his mysterious "suicide" didn't cause her any pain. However, just the idea that her mother would have been able to order someone's murder drove her crazy. Agatha didn't even know if she wanted to know the truth herself. Perhaps it would be better to let the world discover it alone and to let herself be swallowed by the slight ignorance. After all, to discover the truth in firsthand, is a burden. It always is.

She shook her head and pulled herself off of that thought. For now.

They agreed that Rio was gonna be late today. In that way, they wouldn't draw attention to the fact that they were coming in together. Or even, from the same place. At the same time.

She pulled her coat tighter around herself, her mind replaying the events of the night before as a faint smile tugged at her lips. But the smile faded the moment she turned the corner and saw the sleek, black town car waiting for her.

Ok. Back to reality.

Ralph brought her a change of clothes. Of course, he was always prepared.

Agatha changed her clothes in the back seat, leaving her red dress from the night before, inside a bag in which Ralph brought her tailored suit. There were always suits meticulously prepared for this type of occasion. Not an intensive night of sex -of course- but late meetings, nights with donors... 

Thank god, she'd showered at Rio's. She'd be reeking of sex otherwise.

Later, she was seated in the large, imposing conference room where the campaign team usually gathered.

Agatha had settled into her chair at the round oak table, her laptop open but untouched, when Jen slid into the seat beside her, her sharp gaze cutting through the silence.

“Did Rio gave you the talking points for tomorrow’s panel yet?” Jen asked.

Agatha blinked, the question hitting her like a splash of cold water. “The panel?”

Jen arched an eyebrow, her expression teetering on amused disbelief. “Yeah. The panel at the university? It’s been on the calendar for weeks.”

Agatha’s stomach dropped. In the whirlwind of everything—Henry, her mother, César, Rio—she had completely forgotten.

But, before she could reply, the sound of the conference room doors swinging open drew everyone’s attention.

Rio walked in, fifteen minutes late, her stride purposeful. She looked sharp in her tailored blazer -of course, one of those Agatha had bought for her- her hair wild, but in a way that gave her an air of authority. Agatha, despite herself, couldn’t help but think about how maddeningly attractive she looked.

“You’re late, Vidal,” Agatha said, her tone icy, though the corner of her lips betrayed her as they twitched upward ever so slightly.

Rio ignored the comment, striding to the table and slamming a neatly bound folder of papers onto it with practiced ease.

“Talking points, Congresswoman,” she announced, her voice firm.

Agatha blinked, her gaze shifting from the folder to Rio.

How the hell does she even have the time to pull this together in the middle of… everything?

Jen grabbed the folder, flipping through it quickly. “This is... thorough,” she murmured, clearly impressed.

Before Agatha could say anything, the door opened again, and Alice walked in, balancing a stack of binders and her ever-present coffee cup.

“Sorry I’m late,” she said breathlessly, setting her things down and pulling out her chair. She looked at the folder in Jen’s hands and perked up. “Ah, the panel. Super important.”

Alice leaned forward, addressing Agatha directly. “It’s a big deal, actually. The university is trying to engage students in politics, so they’ve invited you, Cadwell, and two professors—one from Political Philosophy and another from Law. It’s supposed to be a balanced discussion on policy, ethics, and the law’s role in governance.”

Agatha crossed her arms, her gaze flicking to Rio. “And no one thought to mention this to me earlier?”

Rio met her eyes, her expression unwavering. “We sure did. But- You’ve been a little… distracted.”

Agatha bristled, but before she could respond, Alice jumped in.

“It’s fine, though. The talking points are all here,” Alice said, tapping the folder. “And it’s a great opportunity to connect with younger voters. The university crowd is key.”

Agatha let out a slow breath, forcing herself to focus. “Fine. I’ll review this today.”

“Good,” Rio said, her tone clipped but not unkind. “Because the panel’s tomorrow, and it’s non-negotiable.”

As the meeting continued and logistics were discussed, Agatha couldn’t help but steal glances at Rio. The way she took charge, the way she managed to stay composed —it was infuriatingly impressive. 

As if a few hours ago this woman wasn't all over her. In all possible positions. 

**

Rio carried on with her day as if she hadn't just completely upended Agatha’s morning with that damn folder slam and the way she commanded the room.

But the worst part? She knew exactly what she was doing.

She sent Agatha texts throughout the day, innocuous things that had just the right undertone to make her pulse spike.

A simple Did you review the talking points? 

Was followed an hour later by Hope you can stay focused, Congresswoman.

And then, when Agatha didn’t respond fast enough, a single Need me to help you concentrate?  sent her grip tightening around her iPhone.

By the time the afternoon rolled around, Agatha was at her breaking point. She kept her composure during meetings, nodded at the right times, even answered questions with the same controlled ease she was known for. But inside, she was spinning, her mind stuck in a loop of Rio’s voice, Rio’s smirk, Rio’s fucking teasing.

She had tried to resist - truly, she did. But the moment Rio strolled into her office, closing the door behind her with that slow, deliberate click, it was over.

Agatha was out of her chair in an instant, crossing the room in three strides before gripping Rio by the lapels and shoving her against the wall. Their mouths met in a reckless kiss, all pretense of restraint abandoned. Rio let out a low chuckle against her lips, but Agatha swallowed the sound, pressing her body flush against hers.

“You think you’re funny?” Agatha muttered between kisses, her breath ragged.

Rio smirked, tilting her head just slightly. “A little.”

Agatha’s hands roamed down Rio’s sides, nails digging into the fabric of her blazer. “You’ve been tormenting me all day.”

Rio hummed, pretending to think. “That’s true.”

Agatha kissed her harder, her grip tightening. But just when she was about to push things further, Rio abruptly pulled back, straightening her blazer as if she wasn’t completely breathless.

Agatha scowled. “What the fuck—”

Rio smirked, stepping back towards the door.

“You need to focus on the panel, Congresswoman. Not on me in between your legs.” She turned the doorknob, pausing just long enough to throw Agatha a lingering look over her shoulder. “I’ll take care of that tomorrow, after you do your job.”

Agatha let out a "Tomorrow?!"

But Rio was already out the door.

And with that, Agatha was left standing in the middle of her office, thoroughly wrecked, again.

**

Agatha had just finished dinner and was back at her home desk. The campaign never paused, and even in the quiet hours, her mind raced with strategies and schedules.

But, amidst the clutter of files and notes, her phone buzzed—a message from Rio, again.

Agatha’s eyes widened as she saw the attached photo. She clicked.

Rio in bed, over white silk sheets.

She was only wearing lace underwear.

Black. Provocative.

Rio's hand was positioned over her breast, pulling a little bit of her bra, teasing and showing her nipple.

Rio’s eyes were half-closed in a lazy, sultry smile, her hair cascading around her face. Her body was relaxed and inviting, with just a hint of mischief in her arched pose, as though she knew exactly the effect she had on Agatha. The picture was undeniably provocative.

Almost immediately, Agatha’s fingers started to type.

Agatha: Are you trying to kill me?

Rio: You know, with the election just one week away, I figured you needed a little boost. Wouldn’t you agree?

Agatha: If you're trying to distract me, you're doing an excellent job.

Rio: Funny. I wonder if you’re more focused on the polls or on… us.

Agatha: You're making it hard for me to focus..

Rio: Am I? [attached video]

Agatha’s heart hammered in her chest. The audacity. 

Rio had just sent a video in which her hand was traveling from her collarbone to the middle of her breasts. Then, until the lace of her panties.

It stayed there for a while, teasing. But Agatha lost her breath when the angle of the video went down and she saw a wet spot on Rio's underwear. And with that, Rio slowly reached in to touch herself.

Agatha could hear the sound of her fingers slowly running through her wet folds.

She moaned at the sight. Her hand traveling to the middle of her legs, passing her pajama pants, and feeling her cunt pulsing. God, already wet.

Agatha: Yes, Rio. Very hard. 

Rio: You like what you see?

Agatha: You know I do.. 

Rio: Are you touching yourself? 

Agatha: I'm trying to look over some docs.. 

Rio: That's not an answer, sweetheart. 

Agatha: You're impossible.

Rio: Agatha, be a good girl and touch yourself for me. 

Agatha's breath got caught, she hesitated only a moment before replying with a teasing, half-drawn-out line that betrayed her arousal. But before she could craft another response, the phone rang. The screen lit up with Rio’s name. With trembling fingers, Agatha answered.

“Rio?” she whispered, voice husky and low.

“Sweetheart, I’ve been waiting for you,” Rio said, her tone low and commanding. “I want you to show me how much you want me, right now.”

Agatha’s heart pounded as she closed her eyes, picturing Rio’s confident smirk and the way her voice made everything feel dangerous and delicious. Still at her desk, Agatha let her hand wander slowly along her thigh, the memory of Rio’s touch still vivid in her mind. 

“Come on, Agatha. Don’t you feel it? The heat?” Rio’s voice was a tantalizing murmur that seemed to reach inside her. “I can hear you breathing, sweetheart. I can tell you’re already turned on.”

Her fingers reached her cunt. So wet. So needy. 

Her fingers began to move, she massaged her clit, her folds. Each slow stroke a plea to the part of her that refused to be so controlled.

“Rio…” Agatha managed between soft, building moans, her voice trembling with need.

“Tell me,” Rio pressed, her tone both teasing and demanding, “are you letting go? Are you letting yourself feel it?”

Agatha’s pulse quickened as she pressed her fingers closer to her entrance, the sensation overwhelming her with every measured caress.

“I—I’m trying,” she admitted in a breathless whisper, each word punctuated by the sound of her racing heart.

The sound of Rio’s quiet moans and soft, impassioned breathing on the other end of the line was unmistakable—Rio was touching herself too.

There was a brief pause as Agatha listened, the sound of Rio’s pleasure mingling with her own ragged breaths. Then, with a sudden burst of determination, Agatha’s fingers moved more confidently, exploring her warmth and texture. 

Agatha moaned, and Rio moaned in response. She could hear the wetness from the other end of the line. Rio was speeding up.

“Rio… I-” Agatha managed, her voice thick with raw emotion and lust. “Fuck, wish I could feel you right now.”

On the other end of the line, Rio’s response came in a low, husky murmur. “Then don’t hold back, sweetheart. Show me how much you want it."

She heard Rio moan again. "F-fuck, Agatha. Let yourself go. I w-want to hear you— hear you lose control.”

Encouraged, Agatha’s fingers moved with increasing urgency. Each touch made her panties fill more and more with cum. She could almost feel Rio’s eyes on her.

“Tell me-" Rio moaned and whispered in a horny voice. " Tell me you’re mine, Agatha,” her voice trembling slightly as she fumbled with her own pleasure. “Tell me you want me.”

Agatha’s voice wavered as she answered, her confession both desperate and liberating. “I’m yours, Rio. I..." she moaned loud, "I want you.”

She could hear Rio speeding up and her moans louder. 

"Agatha..." another wet sound. "Oh, fuck-" faster movements "come for me."

Agatha sped up.

"Rio, I'm gonna-" and she moaned loud.

And Rio moaned her name while she screamed "F-fuck, yes" 

"Rio..." Agatha came, loud. Hard.

All over her underwear. 

Rio, from the other end of the line, came at the same time. Just from hearing Agatha get to her climax. 

Agatha pushed her head back in her chair, took her hand off and stared at the amount of cum that dripped from her fingers. "You're a fucking menace, you know that?"

Rio chuckled. "I know I am. But I you're the one that drives me this insane. You should get back to work now, sweetheart."

Agatha rolled her eyes. "You think I can even do something after this? I'm taking a long bath to clean myself and then I'm going to bed. Before you get any more ideas."

"Agatha.." Rio whispered. 

"Hm?" 

"I love you. You know that right?" Rio murmured in a honey dripping tone.

"You love to drive me insane," Agatha chuckled. "But I love you too."

**

Agatha adjusted her blazer in the narrow mirror of the backstage area at the university auditorium. Today was the day of the panel—ethics, law, and government—and whatever the fuck those kids wanted to ask the member of the panel. Anyway, Agatha was determined to present herself as composed and authoritative.

As she stepped away from the mirror, Cadwell appeared at the far end of the hallway with a self-satisfied smirk. His eyes glittered with mockery as he sauntered over.

“Well, well,” he drawled, his tone mocking as he extended a hand. “Ready to take center stage, Congresswoman? Or are you still busy playing around with your personal drama? How's Evanora?”

Agatha’s eyes narrowed as she met his gaze, her smile thin and sharp.

“Cadwell,” she replied evenly, taking his hand briefly before withdrawing it. “I’d say I’m ready, but I suppose you wouldn’t know what stage perfection looks like.” Her words dripped with sarcasm.

Inside her mind, Agatha’s thoughts bubbled over in amusement.

Look at him, she mused with a wry smirk. Strutting around like he’s the only one who can save this sorry mess of politics.

Honestly, Cadwell, you’re like a walking PowerPoint slide on mediocrity—full of flashy graphs and empty promises.

She mentally laughed at the image of him fumbling for attention, convinced that his smug confidence was nothing more than a desperate cry for validation.

Before she could dwell on Cadwell’s pomp any further, a brisk knock on the door signaled the arrival of the other panel participants.

The door swung open, and in stepped Dr. Marianne Santos, the Political Philosophy professor—a woman whose poised demeanor and razor-sharp wit often left Agatha both impressed and, admittedly, a bit annoyed.

“Harkness,” Marianne greeted coolly, nodding in acknowledgment as she made her way to a table set up with neatly arranged notes and multimedia equipment. “I trust you’re ready to discuss the ethics of modern governance today?” 

Agatha managed a polite nod. “Always,” she said, her voice steady despite the internal mockery of Cadwell still lingering in her thoughts.

Moments later, Professor Giovanni Blackwell, the Law professor known for his incisive commentary and impeccable style, entered the room.

“Good morning, Congresswoman,” Giovanni said warmly, though his eyes carried an edge of expectation. “Let’s make sure we give these students something to really chew on, shall we?”

Agatha’s lips twitched in a barely concealed smile. “Of course”

Soon, the backstage hustle gave way to a tense calm as the panel was called to order. Agatha took her place among the other speakers. Gladly, Cadwell was seated on the other end of the line.

The moderator introduced the topics of ethics, law, and the future of government. The atmosphere was professional, the audience a mix of students, academics, and local dignitaries.

Everything was going smoothly until Cadwell, always ready with a cutting remark, leaned over during a brief interlude between speakers.

With a smug grin, he quipped, “I suppose even Congresswoman Harkness must find it difficult to balance personal matters with the cold logic of public service.” His words, laced with condescension, drew a ripple of laughter from the audience.

Agatha felt the blood surge in her cheeks and a familiar heat of anger rising within her. Inside, she clenched her fists, picturing Cadwell’s face contorting in that self-satisfied sneer.

Does he think he’s a savior? she thought bitterly. No, he’s just a pompous windbag trying to steal my thunder.

"Congressman, are you admiting you're a cold person? C'mon now, that's not what the voters should expect from a future senator," she chuckled mockingly. "Or a future, something..." she murmured into the mic, hinting that Cadwell wouldn't even get to be senator.

The conversation continued with relevant ethical points made by Professor Marianne. And it ended with a brief introduction to current laws made by Professor Giovanni.

Now, it was time to pass a microphone to the audience, letting the public raise their questions.

Agatha relaxed.

This is the easy part, she thought.

A young blonde girl in a crisp sorority blazer took the microphone first.

With a confident smile that belied her youthful excitement, she asked, “Can the members of the panel tell us why America is the greatest country in the world?”

A brief hush fell over the room. Agatha’s eyes flicked around as if absorbing every nuance of the question, but she remained silent for now, waiting to hear the answers from the other members.

Professor Marianne, whose calm, measured presence had become a staple of academic debates, was the first to speak.

“Diversity and opportunity,” she stated plainly, her tone even and deliberate. The words, though simple, drew polite applause from some in the audience and thoughtful nods from others.

The moderator then turned to the panel’s resident provocateur, Cadwell.

His smile was self-assured and smug as he leaned forward slightly. “Mr. Cadwell?” the moderator prompted.

Cadwell’s reply was almost gleefully arrogant.

“Uh, freedom and freedom!” his tone dripping with an unearned confidence that drew a few chuckles and a smattering of applause from the crowd. His eyes twinkled with the pleasure of being the center of attention

Fucking rehearsed and poor rhetoric. Agatha thought.

The moderator then shifted to Professor Giovanni, but before he could begin, Agatha’s inner turmoil erupted. Her mind flashed with the memory of Cadwell’s smug retorts, and in a voice that was barely a whisper yet filled with conviction, she snapped. 

“It's not the greatest country in the world.”

The room seemed to still for a heartbeat. Agatha paused, her eyes narrowing.

“That's my answer, Congressman,” she declared, addressing Cadwell directly at the other end of the line of chairs.

Her tone grew sterner, and with a piercing clarity she continued, “With a straight face, you're telling students that America’s so star-spangled awesome that we're the only ones in the world who have freedom?”

A ripple of laughter spread among some audience members, but a murmur of discontent buzzed just beneath the surface as Agatha's words cut into the pomp of patriotism.

She leaned forward, her expression fierce. “Canada has freedom, Japan has freedom!” She swept her hand in a dramatic gesture toward the audience, her voice rising. “The UK, France, Italy, Germany, Spain, Australia, Belgium have freedom. 207 sovereign states in the world—like, 180 of them have freedom!”

The intensity in her eyes burned as she continued, her fingers pointing to the audience.

“And you—sorority girl—yeah, just in case you accidentally wander into a voting booth one day, there are some things you should know.” Her voice strong into a mocking tone as she looked directly at the young questioner, “One of them is that there is absolutely no evidence to support the statement that we're the greatest country in the world.”

The moderator intervened "Alright let's-" 

But Agatha didn't stop there. She kept going.

The audience was enraptured. Phones were raised, recording every word. Agatha's gaze shifted as she began to count on her fingers slowly, each number a silent indictment:

“We're 7th in literacy, 27th in math, 22nd in science, 49th in life expectancy, 178th in infant mortality, 3rd in median household income, number 4 in labor force, and number 4 in exports.”

Her eyes flashed as she continued, voice clipped with righteous fury, “We lead the world in only three categories!" she turned to Cadwell again.

"Number of incarcerated citizens per capita, number of adults who believe angels are real, and defense spending! Where, in a matter of fact, we spend more than the next 26 countries combined, 25 of whom are allies!”

A heavy silence followed, every eye in the room locked on Agatha. Then, she nearly exploded, her voice rising to a crescendo..

“None of this is the fault of a 20-year-old college student, but you, nonetheless, are without a doubt, a member of the WORST-period-GENERATION-period-EVER-period" she turned to the whole audience "SO when you ask what makes us the greatest country in the world, I don't know what the fuck you're talking about!”

A beat later, the final word slammed out, “Yosemite?!”

The audience erupted in a mixture of stunned silence and scared applause.

Cadwell's smug expression faltered under the weight of Agatha's passionate rebuke, while the audience roared with approval and disapproval at the same time, electrified by the raw honesty of her words. In that charged moment, Agatha’s expression was a volatile blend of defiance and vulnerability—a woman willing to tear down the lofty, sanitized narrative of patriotism to reveal the messy truth beneath.

She looked at Cadwell one last time.

That smug bastard—so predictable, so full of hot air. He struts around like he’s the savior of the people, but he’s nothing more than a caricature of everything wrong with the establishment.

She looked further in the audience and saw Rio, standing at the auditorium door. Eyes wide open.

Shock or admiration? She couldn't tell.

"I think that's all for today. Thank you all for-" the moderator started and was interrupted once again.

A man stood up in the audience.

"I have one last question for Congresswoman Harkness." He spoke. No mic, just projecting his voice.

Agatha squinted, trying to pinpoint the speaker. The stage lights flared, momentarily blinding her, and when her vision cleared slightly, she could see a mocking smile played on the man’s lips—a smile that reeked of disdain and icy amusement.

In that instant, Agatha’s stomach sank. Was that-

From the corner of her eye, she caught sight of Rio at the door, her mouth opening in a silent gasp as shock and dismay flashed across her face. Rio started moving fast towards the source of the voice, her steps urgent, almost running, but before she could breach the line of chairs where the man was seated-

His voice cut through the silence.

"You stand here proclaiming your dedication to transparency and truth, yet, you conceal so much of yourself behind political posturing,"

Agatha's eyes finally made sense of his whole face. The man before her was none other than César Vidal—the ominous shadow, the puppeteer behind Cadwell’s rise, and, infuriatingly...

Rio’s father.

Her mouth opened slightly in disbelief.

Rio was already cutting trought the crowd seated next to him. But then-

"Tell me, Congresswoman.. Do the people sitting here today know that when the cameras are off, and the speeches are done, you’re busy warming another woman's bed?”

The room fell into stunned silence.

Someone gasped. The phones kept recording.

Agatha froze. Her blood turned to ice.

Across the line of seats, Rio froze mid-step, her entire body tensing. She stared at her father, like she was able to kill him in that same spot.

César turned to Rio and grinned. Then, back to Agatha.

He leaned back in his seat, completely at ease.

“Oh?” he mused, feigning innocence at the sudden, suffocating stillness in the room. “Cat got your tongue?”

Chapter Text

"Tell me, Congresswoman.. Do the people sitting here today know that when the cameras are off, and the speeches are done, you’re busy warming another woman's bed?”

The weight of César's words slammed into Agatha with the force of a freight train. There was no hiding the meaning behind them. 

He had just outed her.

Loud and clear.

In front of a packed university auditorium.

On camera.

Live.

The question hung in the air like a loaded gun, pointed right at her chest.

Silence cracked for only a second before the auditorium exploded.

“Oh hell yes, Congresswoman, I’m a lesbian too!” 

A male voice shouted from the back, dripping with mockery. A few people laughed.

“DYKE!”

Another voice roared, this one harsher. Cruel.

“Shut the fuck up, asshole!”

A girl snapped back from the middle rows, her voice filled with righteous anger. A few scattered claps followed, but the damage had already been done. The atmosphere had shifted.

Agatha felt herself split in two. She could feel César’s stare burning into her skin, waiting. Amused.

The cat did not get my fucking tongue, your daughter did. She thought. But, of course, she couldn't say it.

She inhaled. Control the narrative. 

With an exhale, she took the mic and let out a soft chuckle, as if this entire moment was nothing more than a ridiculous sideshow. Then, she leaned forward slightly, one brow arching in perfect political composure.

“Well, I suppose I should be flattered by how deeply invested you are in my personal life.." 

She paused. Being outed like this was not on her bingo card.

So...

“That’s an interesting assumption,” Agatha said coolly, forcing a smirk, as if this was all some kind of joke. “But I’m afraid your sources are just as questionable as your words.”

Laughter rippled through the audience.

It was a clean deflection. A dismissal wrapped in sharp wit.

And it was a lie.

But it was necessary. It had to be.

Then—she saw her.

Rio.

Still standing near the row of chairs, staring.

Not laughing.

Not smirking.

Just… standing there.

And then—she saw it. The shift. From anger to hurt.

Rio's throat bobbed as she swallowed something down. Her lashes fluttered, like she was blinking away.

Then, the corners of her lips pressed together. A familiar gesture. The way she hid pain. The way she masked disappointment.

Agatha wanted to fix it.

To take it back.

To say something—anything—

But the moderator had already taken control. “Alright, alright. I think we’ve gotten off track. Thank you all—”

But Agatha wasn’t listening.

Because Rio was already turning away.

She didn’t fight. Didn’t argue. Didn’t scream or scoff or roll her eyes the way she usually did when she was pissed.

She just looked at her father and shook her head in disappointment. Rio was used to this kind of games by now. Or at least, she should be. 

She turned her back to him and walked to the door.

Agatha saw César look at his daughter one last time. A satisfied smirk plastered across his face. 

He was satisfied. Not enough, clearly. But he stirred the pot just enough. 

Agatha's nails started biting into her palms. 

Rio—she was gone.

And Agatha felt the ache of it, like a punch to the gut.

She was hiding, one last time.

Just one last fucking time, she said to herself.

When this is over, I can be myself.

But at what cost?

**

The panel was over.

Agatha barely heard the moderator’s closing remarks, barely registered the polite applause, barely noticed the cameras still recording, capturing every movement, every shift of expression, every second of her escape.

Her heels clicked against the stage floor as she made her way to the exit, but before she could step off, Jen was already on her.

“Agatha, we need to-" Jen’s was gripping her phone, scrolling furiously.

Alice was right behind her. “We need to get ahead of this, now. That moment’s already clipped and going viral—”

“I don’t care.” Agatha’s voice came out flat. Distant.

Jen exhaled, exasperated. “Well, you should. Your opponent’s biggest donor just tried to out you on a goddamn stage in front of half the university—and you denied it.”

Agatha blinked. “I'm not- Look, I handled it.”

God, does everyone in this god forsaken team knows about her and Rio?

“You handled it?” Alice scoffed. “Do you know what the next twelve hours are gonna look like? That clip is everywhere already. ‘Agatha Harkness dodges sexuality allegations,’ ‘Agatha Harkness refuses to comment on—’”

“I said, I don’t care.” This time, her voice was cutting.

Alice and Jen both hesitated, glancing at each other.

Then—Agatha walked. Leaving them behind.

The hallway outside the auditorium felt colder than before. Or maybe that was just her. Her hands twitched, she kept clenching and unclenching her fingers, trying to ease the static under her skin.

She needed to find Rio. She didn’t have a plan, didn’t have the right words, but fuck—she had to find her.

Agatha moved fast.

Down the first hallway—nothing.

Out the side doors—no sign.

Through the crowd of students still murmuring about what had just unfolded—no Rio.

Panic clawed at her throat.

She couldn’t just leave. Not like that.

But she did.

She had.

And Agatha had let her. I mean, she probably made her leave...

By the time she looped back toward the main entrance, her breath was shallow. She ran a hand through her hair, pressing her fingers against her temples.

She should call her.

She should—

Then—she saw them.

Across the hallway, past the sea of students, tucked near the doors of a side exit—Cadwell.

And César fucking Vidal.

Talking.

Laughing.

Patting each other on the back like old friends.

She didn’t slow down. Didn’t say a word. Just walked, gaze straight, steps measured.

But as she passed—César moved. Stopped her.

His hand caught her wrist, light but firm, fingers cold against her pulse.

She froze.

César leaned in, close enough that his breath touched her ear, and in the softest, most mocking whisper, he said—

"She was really hurt, you know."

Agatha didn’t move.

"It was almost sad to watch. Poor girl looked like she’d just been shot in the heart."

Her fingers curled into a fist.

"You can still catch her, if you run."

A pause.

Then—the twist.

"But…wouldn’t that mean admitting I was right?"

César pulled back, smiling. Satisfied.

Agatha said nothing. Did nothing.

Just…stood there.

Until—she turned.

And walked.

Her nails dug into her palm. Again and again and again. 

What have I done?

** 

Agatha stepped out of the building. Reporters had gathered like vultures, their microphones thrust forward and voices raised in an unrelenting barrage of questions. 

“Congresswoman Harkness, was that your final word on America not being the greatest country in the world?” 

“Is this why you don’t have any kids?”

The questions came one after another, each more intrusive than the last.

“America is wondering why you haven’t started a family yet—tell us, is it because you can’t commit to anything? Or can't commit to a man?”

Agatha’s pulse pounded in her ears as she tried to shield herself from the onslaught. Her face, usually composed and resolute, betrayed flashes of pain and anger with every question. She forced a neutral expression, but this all felt like a wound reopened in front of the public eye.

Before Agatha could find her own words or retreat into silence, a group of security guards moved in from the fringes of the crowd. What's happening?

As Agatha was gently but firmly taken by the arm, she caught a glimpse of one of the guards. His jacket bore a pin—a small, White House pin that glinted in the sunlight. For a heartbeat, Agatha’s mind raced with a mix of shock and recognition.

It was as if the machinery of power itself had come to claim her.

"What are you-" she started. 

"Ma'am, you have to come with us." The guard cooly said.

They kept walking foward.

One of them opened the car door, motioning for her to step inside.

Agatha hesitated. “I didn’t agree to—”

“Congresswoman,” the same guard said coolly. “Get in the car.”

His tone wasn’t threatening. It didn’t have to be. It was final.

She took a breath and slid into the back seat. The door shut behind her with a decisive click.

The interior smelled of leather and something faintly floral. Across from her, legs crossed, was a woman she didn’t recognize. Mid-fifties, perfectly pressed navy-blue suit, a small American flag pin on her lapel, and a pair of eyes that studied Agatha with a look that was neither friendly nor unkind. It was the gaze of someone who had seen it all, who dealt in power like it was currency, and who already knew exactly how this conversation would play out.

"Congresswoman Harkness," the woman said smoothly, inclining her head just slightly. "I appreciate you taking the time."

Agatha scoffed, shifting uncomfortably. "I wasn’t given much of a choice, was I?"

The woman smiled, but it didn’t reach her eyes. "Consider it an opportunity."

"For what, exactly?"

A pause. A deliberate one. Then, the woman leaned in just slightly, her voice low but clear. "The White House has been watching you."

Agatha frowned. "That’s not ominous at all."

"You have... a presence," the woman continued, undeterred. "You’re sharp, commanding. You shake things up. You make people uncomfortable."

Agatha exhaled through her nose, forcing herself to remain still. "And?"

"And," the woman went on, her fingers tracing the seam of her skirt absentmindedly, "we’re in need of people like that."

Agatha blinked. "For what?"

The woman tilted her head slightly, as if amused by the question. "Let’s just say... there may be an opening. One that requires someone who knows how to handle chaos."

Agatha let out a humorless laugh. "After what just happened out there? You think I’m in the right headspace to be considering job offers?"

"That’s precisely why we’re having this conversation, Congresswoman," the woman said, calm as ever. "Everything you endured in the last few years—how you handled it—is what makes you interesting to us."

There was something unnerving about the way she said us, like it wasn’t just the White House, but something larger.

Agatha’s fingers curled into her palms. "I’m going to need you to be more specific. What exactly are you asking of me?"

The woman finally leaned back, exuding the ease of someone who held all the cards. "I’m not asking anything of you. Yet."

"And if I were interested?"

A small, knowing smile. "Then step forward."

Agatha studied her, the weight of the past hour pressing down on her like a vice. The speech. The outing. The humiliation. The press waiting like a pack of wolves outside the car. And now this—a door opening to something she didn’t understand, something that felt like it had been planned long before she even set foot on that debate stage.

She swallowed. "And if I’m not?"

The woman reached for the handle of the door, her smile never wavering. "Then you’re free to go."

The lock clicked. The air in the car suddenly felt thinner.

"Take your time, Congresswoman," the woman added. "But don’t take too long."

And then, just like that, the security detail opened the door and she got out.

Agatha stood there for a moment, her mind reeling. Outside, the world continued as if nothing had happened. The cameras still flashed. The reporters still shouted. The chaos still swirled.

What the hell just happened?

And fuck, SHE NEEDED TO FIND RIO.

** 

Agatha spent the day trying to contact Rio, tried to call, left messages, even tried to stop by her apartment. Nothing.

The doorman said that she had been there but that she had already left. Agatha gave up, took the day off, and accepted that she would return to her empty house, without Rio and without a conversation.

She couldn't stand the idea that the whole world seemed to fall around her, and that she disappointed the only person who seemed to steady it. 

She loved Rio, she really did. But she also cherished the career she had been building her whole life. That meant something. 

She thought love couldn't come first. But, in this case, she was starting to think otherwhise.

She wished she could go back. She wished she could scream to the seven seas that she loved Rio Vidal.

But she couldn't. The damage was already done. 

Normally, she’d have Ralph waiting at the curb, the door open, ready to usher her into the familiar cocoon of the backseat. But today, she couldn’t bear the thought of someone else’s presence, of Ralph’s quiet concern or the suffocating feeling of being handled.

So she drove herself. At this hour it was already night time. She had spent the whole day trying to reach Rio.

The silence inside her car was absolute. No staff. No reporters. No flashing cameras. No Rio.

She turned the key in the ignition.  As she pulled out onto the street, she pressed down on the gas harder than necessary, feeling the car lurch forward.

Her fingers tapped absently on the wheel as she drove, the lights streaking past in a blur of neon and asphalt. 

She tried Rio’s number again. It went straight to voicemail.

The rejection burned.

At another stoplight, she drummed her fingers against her temple, thinking. Wondering if she’d ever see Rio’s name light up her phone again. If Rio would ever pick up. If she’d ever get the chance to fix what she had shattered with her own cowardice.

She loved her. But love wasn’t enough, was it? Love had never been enough to protect her from everything she had to be.

She hit the gas before the light even turned fully green.

By the time she reached her neighborhood, the streets had emptied. It was late, and the quiet pressed in on her from all sides. As she pulled into her driveway and shut off the engine, she sat there for a moment, gripping the wheel like it was the only thing keeping her grounded.

Her house loomed before her—massive, dark, and cold. Empty.

She closed her eyes, resting her forehead against the wheel.

You did this to yourself.

She knew that. But knowing didn’t make it hurt any less.

**

Two hours ago.

Rio sat in her dark apartment, the only light coming from the burner phone she hadn’t touched in years. It felt foreign in her palm—heavy with a past she had sworn to leave behind. The screen glowed back at her, illuminating the single contact she had never been able to delete.

Dad.

Her thumb hovered over the encrypted messaging app, an old system her father had drilled into her from the moment she was old enough to understand secrecy. It was the only way they had communicated when she was still under his thumb—when she was still his.

She shouldn’t do this.

She shouldn’t.

And yet, her fingers moved on their own. The old code spilled onto the screen like second nature. It was simple, sharp, unmistakable. We need to talk.

She hit send.

For a moment, nothing happened. The air in the room felt thick.

Then, the phone vibrated.

A single message. An address.

He had answered. No words, no pleasantries—just a location.

Rio let out a breath. She had expected silence, or worse, for him to mock her attempt at a confrontation. But he had responded. Which meant he wanted this meeting.

She didn’t know why. Maybe he wanted to see her break in person. Maybe he wanted to relish the fact that he had finally sunk his claws into Agatha’s career, just like he said he would. Maybe he wanted to watch her unravel with that same smug amusement he always carried.

Fine. Let him.

She grabbed her coat, throwing it over her shoulders in one sharp motion, and snatched her car keys off the counter. 

The moment she slid into the driver’s seat, she took a shaky breath before turning the ignition—

Buzz.

Another message.

No words. Just a timestamp. Now.

He was waiting for her.

Rio pulled out of the lot. What am I going to say? What am I going to do?

Her fingers flexed against the wheel. She already knew the answer. She wanted to tear him apart.

She reached the location within twenty minutes. 

Her chest rose and fell, too fast. Too hard.

She reached for the glovebox. It popped open easily, revealing the cold weight of the gun she kept inside. Her fingers hovered over it.

She shouldn’t.

She wasn’t him.

But then she thought of Agatha, standing on that stage while he humiliated her, played with her life like she was just another piece on his chessboard.

She thought of his puppet Cadwell, smirking at Agatha like he had already won.

She thought of all the years of manipulation, of the threats that turned into promises, of the way he made her feel like she would never truly be free of him.

Her jaw clenched.

She grabbed the gun, shoving it into the waistband of her pants before slamming the glovebox shut.

She wasn’t him.

But she sure as hell wasn’t walking in there unarmed.

**

Chapter Text

You have to imagine Sisyphus happy.

Agatha had read those words before, turned them over in her mind, wrestled with them in ways that felt both abstract and deeply concerning. But, standing here, watching Rio fall apart in front of her, the sentence became unbearable.

How could one imagine Sisyphus happy?

How could one accept the weight of an unbearable task, knowing it would never end, and still find joy in it?

How could one love, knowing that love itself might be nothing more than an eternal punishment? 

At this very moment, it sure felt like it. She loved so deeply, and yet, it stung so much.

Sisyphus pushed the rock up the mountain, watched it slip from his grasp, felt the weight of his own futility pressing against his spine as it tumbled back down. And yet, he did it again.

And again. And again.

Every single day.

It felt like philosophical suicide.

Agatha had spent her entire life rolling her own stone uphill—pushing against her mother’s expectations, against the world’s scrutiny, against the suffocating legacy of the Harkness name. She had fought, resisted, rebelled, thinking that someday, if she just pushed hard enough, if she just proved herself enough, the weight would lift.

It never did.

And now, looking at Rio—at the way her shoulders shook, the way her arms wrapped around herself like she was trying to hold her own breaking pieces together—Agatha realized that she had done the same thing to this woman. She had asked Rio to push an impossible weight alongside her, without ever stopping to wonder if she had the strength to bear it.

One, cannot, imagine Sisyphus happy.

Agatha had imagined herself as the revolted man, refusing to surrender to the absurd. But, what if she had been the absurd all along?

What if she was the mountain Rio had been climbing, over and over, believing that one day she would reach the top only to be sent tumbling down again?

Perhaps, the real philosophical suicide wasn’t surrendering to despair. Perhaps it was the belief—the foolish, fragile hope—that love alone could be enough. That if she held onto Rio tightly enough, if she fought hard enough, if she loved hard enough, she could break the cycle. That the gods would one day take pity and grant them peace.

But there was no peace.

There was only this moment. This unbearable, excruciating moment, where Rio stood before her, breaking apart, and Agatha had no way to hold her together.

Perhaps Sisyphus could be imagined happy. But Agatha could not.

Not now.

Not as she stood at the foot of the mountain, watching Rio slip away from her grasp.

Agatha's breath was shaky, uneven, and then—the tears kept coming. Silent at first, slipping down her face as she stood there, frozen, just staring at the ground, like she was unable to face Rio.

"You were scared of losing everything,"

"Everything but me."

“Rio, please-” she finally whispered, her voice breaking, still staring at the ground.

Agatha looked up, finally facing Rio. She looked so broken.

Agatha took a step forward, reaching out with her hand to touch her arm, but Rio stepped back, shaking her head.

“Don’t” Rio whispered, her voice weak. “Don’t touch me.”

Agatha’s chest ached. “That’s not true,” she said, her voice low. “What you said—it’s not true.”

Rio looked at her, straight in the eyes. “Don’t do that.”

“Do what?”

“Try to fix it. Try to make it sound better. Try to make me believe that you’re different when I—” She inhaled sharply, her whole body trembling. “When I know better.”

Agatha shook her head, her own breath hitching. “You don’t know better, Rio. You don’t. Because it's not-”

“Then why did you hesitate?” Rio shot back, voice raw, eyes shining. “Why did you stood there, letting everyone laugh at the absurd idea of you warming another woman's bed, like I-"

She sobbed. "Like I was nothing to you?” tears kept falling, "like what we have is just some kind of twisted joke?"

Agatha closed her eyes and looked at the ceiling, trying to hold her tears. “I don't know. I really don't know. I was fucking terrified.”

“Of what?” 

“Of losing you,” Agatha admitted. Her voice was shaking, but she didn’t care.

“Of losing everything, yes, but mostly you. If I said it, then it would become real.. You don’t know what it’s like to have love twisted into something so ugly  you don’t even trust yourself to hold it without breaking it.” She wiped at her face, but the tears kept falling. “I didn’t know how to protect this—us—without ruining it.”

Rio let out a sharp breath, her expression twisting into something agonized. “You say you were scared of losing me, but Agatha—”

She exhaled shakily, and when she spoke again, her voice cracked. “You lost me anyway.”

Agatha’s chest caved in. “No” she whispered. “No, I—” She reached out again, desperate, but Rio moved back, stumbling slightly, shaking her head harder.

“No,” Rio’s voice wavered. “No, Agatha.” She let out a breath that sounded so painfully defeated, Agatha thought she might break apart just hearing it. “I can’t do this.”

“Please, just please.” Agatha didn’t care how broken she sounded. Didn’t care how many pieces of herself she was handing over, desperate for Rio to take them. “Please, I love you—”

Rio shut her eyes tight, as if the words physically hurt her.

Then, she turned away.

And she walked to the door, leaving Agatha standing in her office.

Agatha felt her own breath catch, felt something inside her break as Rio reached the living room, and then, the door handle.

She ran to Rio, placed her hand on her shoulder, and whispered..

“Rio—”

But Rio didn’t look back, she couldn't, she feared that if she would, she would leave a piece of her there. So, she spat..

“You don’t get to say that anymore.”

And left. 

The door had barely clicked shut before Agatha felt her eyes burn.

It wasn’t loud. It wasn’t dramatic. It wasn’t even the kind of collapse that left her gasping for air. It was quieter than that, somehow worse. A slow, steady cracking of something deep inside, a hollowing out of her chest, as if something vital had just been carved away and left her raw.

She didn’t move for a long moment. She stood there, staring at the door, like maybe, just maybe, if she stayed still enough, if she willed it hard enough, Rio would walk back through it.

But she didn’t.

Of course, she didn’t.

Agatha exhaled, unsteady, and dragged a hand over her face to clean the tears. Her skin burned.

When had she started crying? She barely even felt it. She felt like she was crying for years now, like it was normal.

Her legs moved before her mind caught up. Muscle memory, a need to do something—anything—to keep from standing here, alone, suffocating.

She found herself back in her office. The lamp she had left on cast a soft orange light over the room, warm and soft, but it felt cold.

Everything felt cold.

Everything feels cold without Rio.

And then, she saw it.

Her computer screen was still on, the contents of the flash drive laid bare across it.

Files upon files, windows open, names and numbers glowing. Her stomach twisted.

Rio had left everything there. Including her own flash drive, the one where she kept years of data about her father.

Rio had stormed out in such a blur of heartbreak and fury, that in the wreckage, she had left behind the very thing that had brought her here in the first place.

Agatha let out a shuddering breath and collapsed into the chair at her desk.

The words blurred in front of her, not from exhaustion, but from the burn in her eyes. She blinked, forcing them back into focus.

Years.

Years of quiet, methodical cleanups. Evidence that had been erased before it could ever be found. Names scrubbed from documents. Bank transactions rerouted, money funneled into places it shouldn’t be. The same handful of aliases appearing again and again.

A name here, a signature there — César’s fingerprints on every single one of them.

And at the center of it all - Evanora.

The Harkness name.

The Harkness legacy. 

Her mother had been pulling the strings, building something out of nothing, forcing the world to bend to her will like it was hers to control. And when things threatened to crack, when something or someone got too close, when a loose end dangled too dangerously—César was there.

Cleaning. Erasing. Making it go away.

It was a pattern.

It was a goddamn machine.

And Rio had been the one to see it.

Agatha let out a bitter laugh, wet and sharp. Of course she had.

Because César had done it to her too.

She felt sick.

She reached for the mouse with a trembling hand, clicking through the files. She didn’t know why. Maybe to make sense of it. Maybe to punish herself further. Maybe to find something, anything, that would make this all feel less inevitable.

But it only got worse.

Buried beneath everything, there was an old document. A transaction record. She opened it, heart pounding.

Rio, of course, had seen it already. 

It was a payment. From her mother.

To César.

A note attached: For W.

Professor Warren. The man who had been reported as a suicide. The man Henry had hinted—no, knew—had been murdered.

César had been the one to clean it up.

Her mother had been the one to order it.

A broken sound clawed its way out of Agatha’s throat. She covered her mouth with her hand.

She could barely breathe.

This wasn't new. Rio told her about this. But... staring at the screen, seeing the prove. It made everything real.

How much of her life had been built on this? How many things had she justified, overlooked, ignored, because she had been trained to? Because it had been ingrained in her since childhood that power was all that mattered?

It was all the same.

Everywhere she turned, it was the same story, the same ghosts, the same poison. Her mother had controlled her by pretending she didn’t exist until it suited her. César had played her, toyed with her career, made sure she was exactly where he needed her—not for her, never for her, but for the machine.

And Rio—

God.

Agatha let out a sharp, ragged breath, gripping the edge of the desk like it was the only thing keeping her upright.

Rio had suffered under that man.

She had been chewed up, spit out, broken into something smaller, something harder, something that never let itself believe it could be loved.

And Agatha had been part of it.

She hadn’t meant to be. God, she hadn’t meant to be. But she had hesitated. She let the fear of losing stop her from standing beside the one person she swore to herself she’d never abandon.

And now Rio was gone, carrying years and years of damage with her, convinced that everyone leaves, that she is never worth staying for.

Agatha pressed a hand over her mouth, squeezing her eyes shut.

Tears fell again.

She could not let this keep happening.

She inhaled sharply, wiping at her face. Then, with a sudden, burning clarity, she grabbed her phone and scrolled through her contacts, fingers trembling but certain.

She found it.

Harvey Specter.

She hesitated for less than a second before hitting call.

It rang once. Twice.

Then—

“Congresswoman?” His voice was sharp, awake despite the hour. “What’s wrong?”

Agatha swallowed the lump in her throat, forcing herself to breathe.

“I need- Harvey, I need your help.”

There was a beat of silence. Then, she heard some sounds, like Harvey was getting himself out of bed. 

Then, his voice, calm but firm. "Agatha, tell me.”

When he called her by her first name she knew he taking off his lawyer mask. After all, they've know each other for years. They are friends.

Agatha let out a shaky breath, glancing once more at the computer screen. 

This place is about to blow. 

And I'm taking everyone down with me.

Agatha squeezed the phone tighter in her hand. Her voice was clear when she spoke again.

"Harvey," she said, low and sharp. "Before anything else—client confidentiality. If I hire you right now, if I tell you something that might be… let’s say, morally questionable—"

"—then it stays between us," Harvey finished smoothly. "You know that. You wouldn’t be calling me if you didn’t."

There was a pause, and then his voice softened just a fraction. "Agatha, what the hell is going on?"

She stared at the screen, at the tangled mess of decades' worth of crimes, corruption, and manipulation blinking back at her. The life she had been born into. The life she had fought so fucking hard to escape. The life that, no matter how much she clawed and bled, had its teeth still buried deep in her flesh.

"I need you to come over," she said finally. "Right now."

Another pause. Then, a sigh. "Give me ten minutes."

Not Agatha Harkness looking like she had been gutted from the inside out, her hair disheveled, eyes rimmed red, something raw and shattered barely stitched beneath the surface of her usually unreadable expression. He had known her for years. He had seen her furious, cutting, amused, impassive, drunk on power, high on victory.

But he had never seen her like this.

Harvey exhaled through his nose and shut the door behind him. "Jesus, Agatha."

She let out a sharp laugh, something bitter and humorless, before turning away and heading toward her desk. "You look like you just walked into a crime scene."

"Should I be worried about that?"

She didn’t answer. Instead, she sat heavily in her chair and stared at the screen. Harvey followed her gaze, eyes scanning the chaos of files left open, his sharp mind already dissecting the pieces. He knew what this was. He had spent years tearing through cases, seeing the same patterns of corruption and abuse, but this—this was different.

This was personal.

"Talk to me," he said, stepping forward, arms crossing over his chest.

Agatha took a slow breath, then, without a word, reached for a flash drive on the desk and tossed it toward him.

He caught it effortlessly, weighing it in his palm before raising an eyebrow.

"What am I looking at?"

"Evidence," Agatha said. "Years and years of evidence. Transactions. Signed agreements. Payments to make problems disappear. Names. Dates. All of it."

Harvey studied her carefully. "And?"

"And I want it out," she said, voice flat. "I want it out there. I want it public. I want it to burn."

Harvey’s gaze flickered over the screen once more, then back to her. "Who?"

Agatha’s lips parted, and for the first time, she hesitated.

Not because she wasn’t sure.

But because saying it—truly saying it—meant there was no coming back.

She had spent her whole life maneuvering around the power her mother wielded, dodging the weight of the Harkness name like it was a curse carved into her skin. She had spent years playing the game, pretending she was untouched by it, pretending she could step away if she wanted to.

But she couldn’t. She never could.

Her hands clenched into fists on the desk. "Evanora Harkness. And César Vidal."

Harvey raised an eyebrow. "Your mother and—"

"Yes."

There was a beat of silence. Then, he let out a low whistle. "Damn."

Agatha scoffed. "Yeah. Damn."

Harvey turned the flash drive over between his fingers. "You want them buried?"

She turned to him, her face really serious.

"I want them fucking annihilated. I want the world to see them for what they are. I want their names rotting in headlines. I want every single one of their allies to see them crash and burn. I want the legacy they spent decades building to crumble in their fucking hands. I want them powerless."

She leaned forward, voice shaking, but not with fear.

With conviction.

"And I don’t care what it takes."

Harvey held her gaze for a long moment. Then, with a slow, knowing smirk, he pocketed the flash drive.

"Alright, Harkness," he said nodding. "Let’s set the world on fire."

**

She sat at her living room, staring at the city beyond the window, the skyline glowing with a cold, artificial light. The weight in her chest wasn’t gone, but it had shifted. It wasn’t just grief, wasn’t just the gaping wound of what had happened with Rio. It was something more dangerous now.

For the first time in a long, long while, Agatha knew exactly what she had to do.

This was not just revenge.

This was reckoning.

**

Agatha spent two days locked inside her home, surrounded by absolutely nothing more than her wine and her laptop.

She told herself she was working but, in truth, she was waiting.

Waiting for Rio to call back. Waiting for a text. Waiting for anything.

She had tried—again and again, she had tried. Call after call, sent straight to voicemail. Text after text, left unanswered. The silence stretched between them like an ocean, and no matter how desperately she reached, Rio remained on the other side. Unreachable. Unmoved.

And maybe, Agatha thought, she deserved it.

She barely left her office, barely ate, barely slept. The only thing she did, obsessively, compulsively, was refresh the news.

It made her sick every single time, but she couldn't stop. Every headline had her name. Every thread, every article, every op-ed was dissecting her, tearing her apart in real-time.

“Is Agatha Harkness Gay? What Her Latest Outburst Could Mean.”

“A Deflection or a Confession? The Truth Behind Harkness' Words.”

“The Fall of Agatha Harkness: A PR Disaster Unfolds.”

There were worse ones, crueler ones. The kind filled with venom, with hate. She knew it was coming the moment the words left her mouth at the panel, but seeing it—living it—was something else entirely. The internet was relentless, ruthless. Comment sections were war zones, filled with strangers arguing about her existence like she was nothing more than an abstraction.

A symbol. A scandal. A disgrace.

She had never wanted to be any of those things. But she was. And there was no undoing it now.

She wondered if Rio had seen it. If she was watching the world tear Agatha apart, if she was feeling even a fraction of the storm Agatha was drowning in. Did she know? Did she care?

Some articles were kinder than others. Some journalists framed her words about America not being the greastest country in the world as a moment of courage, an act of defiance against a society that still, after everything, demanded labels, demanded explanations, demanded submission.

And they ended the articles talking about her possible sexuality, saying things like "If she is, she should know she is loved," one writer said, not making the whole piece about it.

"The world is changing." Agatha had read line one three times, her vision blurring on the last read.

But then she saw the others. The vile, hateful ones, made by internet trolls. The kind that made her chest tighten and her stomach turn. The kind that made her want to claw out of her own skin, disappear into nothing.

She closed her laptop, pressing her palms against her eyes.

No more. Not now.

She couldn't afford to spiral. Not yet. Not with everything still in motion.

But her hands still reached for her phone, muscle memory driving her to do the only thing that mattered right now.

She pressed Rio’s name again. The call rang for a long time, and then went to voicemail. Again.

She swallowed down the lump in her throat. The ache in her ribs. And, this time, didn’t leave a message.

The problem was... There was still one last event that demanded her appearance. And Rio would, probably, be there. 

How could Agatha be seen in public after all of this? And worse, only a couple days before the final election.

**

The dress was navy blue. Simple, sleek, sleeveless, with a high neckline that made her feel suffocated, but not enough to take it off. It hugged her frame like an armor—one last, desperate attempt to look composed.

The campaign’s final event before election night had been meticulously planned: a fundraiser dinner, filled with donors, high-profile supporters, and enough cameras to make Agatha want to crawl out of there. It was the kind of event she would have once walked into with a practiced smile, shaking hands, making conversation, wielding her influence like a scalpel.

But tonight, the weight of the last few days made her shoulders feel heavier, her steps slower, her face sadder.

Her team had done their best to handle the media fallout, but there were only so many fires they could put out. Some headlines were cautious, speculating about her sexuality, framing her as brave, misunderstood. Others were cruel, laced with homophobia, calling her erratic, unfit to lead, a liability.

But the worst part wasn’t the headlines. The worst part was missing Rio...

She missed her. God, she missed her so much. 

Now, here she was, stepping into a ballroom filled with people who had no idea she was barely keeping herself together.

The moment she crossed the entrance, Lilia was there.

“Agatha—”

“I don’t want to talk about it.” Agatha's voice was quiet, but firm.

Lilia exhaled, clearly trying to gauge how much of a mess Agatha was beneath. “You look like you haven’t slept.”

“I haven’t.”

Lilia sighed. “Listen, I—”

But Agatha had already started moving. The crowd swallowed her, people turning to greet her, their smiles warm, some hesitant, others calculated. She nodded, forced a few pleasantries, but kept walking.

She needed a drink.

And then, she looked at the two people walking towards her.

Jen and Alice. Together. Holding hands.

For a second, Agatha almost froze. It was a ridiculous thing to be thrown off by, but she was. The ease, the casual intimacy of it.

How could they be so okay? How could they hold hands like the world wasn’t watching? 

Alice spoke first. “Agatha, it’s good to see you.” There was kindness in her voice, a cautious softness, as if she knew Agatha had been through hell and was trying to offer her a way back.

Jen, however, wasn’t in the mood for kindness. She let go of Alice’s hand, crossed her arms, and arched an eyebrow.

“Harkness, where the hell have you been?”

A reminder. Agatha was the candidate. She didn’t have the luxury of disappearing.

Agatha swallowed. “Handling things.”

Jen scoffed. “Yeah? Because it looked a lot like you vanished off the face of the earth.”

Alice shot Jen a look, but Jen didn’t back down.

Agatha clenched her jaw. “I didn’t have much of a choice.”

Jen’s gaze sharpened. “Bullshit.”

“Jen,” Alice warned.

“No, seriously,” Jen pressed, stepping closer. “What the fuck happened at that panel? One minute you were in control, the next, you were—” She stopped herself, shook her head. “I mean, Jesus, Agatha, do you have any idea how hard we worked to contain the fallout? And where were you? Because you sure as hell weren’t here dealing with it.”

Agatha felt something bitter rise in her throat. “I was busy watching my life fall apart.”

Jen faltered, just for a second, before recovering. “Yeah, well, welcome to politics.”

Agatha let out a breath. She was too tired for this. Too tired for Jen’s sharp words, for Alice’s careful concern, for the scrutiny, the questions, the fucking judgment.

And yet, she couldn’t walk away.

Because this was still her fight.

Because as much as she wanted to disappear, she couldn’t.

So instead, she squared her shoulders, looked Jen in the eye, and said, “I’m still standing.”

Jen held her gaze for a moment longer, then sighed, shaking her head. “For now.”

Alice touched Jen’s arm, a silent plea for her to soften. Then, she turned back to Agatha. “If you need anything—”

Agatha gave a small nod, but she wasn’t sure she could say anything more.

**

The room around her was all movement and sound—glasses clinking, polite laughter, cameras flashing—but it was all background noise, distant and unimportant.

Because, then, time stopped.

Rio.

Time fucking stopped.

Agatha’s stared, glass in hand, standing beside a circle of donors.

Rio stood across the room, she had just entered.

Rio hadn’t changed from who she was two days ago, and yet, she looked different.. Like something inside her had hardened, sealed itself off.

But she looked tired.

The dark circles under her eyes, the exhaustion in the way she held herself—Agatha recognized it because she felt it too.

She wanted to go to her.

But she couldn’t move.

And then, as if pulled by the same invisible force, Rio lifted her head and met Agatha’s eyes.

Agatha stopped breathing.

For the briefest of moments, the world narrowed to just the two of them. The crowd blurred, the sounds dulled. It was just Agatha and Rio, staring at each other across the room, and everything they had left unsaid hung in the space between.

Agatha took the smallest step forward.

But before she could do anything—before she could say her name, before she could let herself believe for even a second that Rio might soften, might still be within reach—

Rio looked away.

Agatha felt it like a slap.

Rio turned her head sharply, severing the connection between them like it meant nothing. Like Agatha herself meant nothing.

Maybe was there out of politeness. After all, this was her work too.

Agatha’s felt her eyes burn.

She should have expected it. She deserved it.

She forced herself to swallow, to keep her expression blank, to not let the world see her fall apart. She had trained for this her entire life—hiding the cracks—but right now, standing there in the middle of the room, she had never felt more exposed.

Then, because the universe seemed determined to break her completely—

Some blonde woman.

Stunning in such an effortless way, like she belonged in every room she walked into. Her dress was a deep, striking red, flowing against her skin like it had been made for her.

Fucking christ, the woman even looked like Dianna Agron. 

And she was standing with Rio.

Talking to her.

Laughing.

Agatha felt something build inside her.

She watched as the woman leaned in, saying something close to Rio’s ear, and—oh—Rio smiled.

It wasn’t big. It wasn’t even real, not in the way Agatha had seen her truly smile before.

But it was enough.

Enough to feel like a knife in her ribs, slow and twisting.

Agatha swallowed down the sting in her throat, forcing herself to look away, to not let herself fall into this trap, to not let jealousy sink its claws into her when she had no right to it.

And yet-

She dared another glance, and the blonde was touching Rio’s arm now, a light, familiar brush of fingertips.

Agatha turned away fully this time, setting her jaw tight, hands clenched so hard her nails dug into her palms.

Fine.

If Rio wanted to pretend, to act like none of it mattered, like she hadn’t left-

Fuck, I just have to get through the night.

Even if it killed her.

**

Agatha hadn’t meant to get closer.

Her feet moved on their own. She told herself she was just… passing by. That all.

And yet, she angled herself just enough to hear.

“I’ll admit,” the blonde’s voice was smooth, honeyed. “I'm a little surprised to see you here, Rio.”

Agatha barely suppressed a scoff. Of course. She already knows her name.

Rio hummed, sipping her drink. “Oh?”

The blonde tilted her head. “Well, I figured you were in hiding until now..” A pause. Then, she leaned in, her voice dropping into something just for Rio. “Never saw you around”

Agatha slowed her steps, just enough to snatch a glass of champagne from a passing waiter, bringing it to her lips if only to keep from saying something she’d regret.

And then-

The woman’s fingers—perfectly manicured, delicate but sure—dragging lightly down the length of Rio’s arm before settling at her wrist.

Whispering something in her ear.

Agatha felt something snap.

She took a sharp sip, the bubbles burning on the way down, but it wasn’t enough to drown out the irritation.

I don't care.

I shouldn’t care.

And yet, every fiber of her being was locked on them, on Rio, on the way she stood there, listening, not pushing the blonde away, not stopping her—

It was infuriating.

The blonde wasn’t bothered. Not even a little bit. She was standing there, in the middle of a crowded campaign event, openly flirting with a woman like it was nothing. Like there was nothing to fear. No risk.

God, Agatha wanted that.

She wanted it so fucking bad she could taste it.

She should have it.

She could have it.

The thought came fast, sudden, unshakable.

I can.

I can.

I CAN.

Her breath hitched, her pulse hammering, the realization slamming into her so hard it almost made her dizzy.

She straightened.

She was going to do something. She was going to prove it—right here, right now—she was going to make a move, something bold, something reckless—

And then, Rio’s head turned.

Their gazes collided.

Agatha froze.

Rio wasn’t listening to the blonde.

She hadn’t been listening.

The second their eyes locked, it was clear—Rio had been elsewhere, lost in her own head, in her own thoughts.

For a single second, everything else melted away. The voices, the event, the noise. It was just the two of them again, like it had been days ago, like it always was when they were near each other.

Then, Rio looked away.

And the blonde grabbed her hand, pulling Rio outside.

Agatha boiled inside. 

Not just on the inside. Her hand also-

*Glass shattered*

The sound cracked through the air like a whip, sharp and sudden.

Gasps rippled through the nearest guests, heads turning toward her. Warm champagne dripped from her fingers, mingling with the blood welling from the fresh cuts on her palm.

But Agatha didn’t look down.

She couldn’t.

She was too busy staring at Rio.

Because Rio had turned back to her at the sound, eyes wide.

Agatha swallowed hard, her breath unsteady, fingers trembling—whether pain or jealousy, she didn’t know.

But one thing was certain-

I'm done standing still.

Agatha stood at the podium, her chest rising and falling with the force of her breath. The weight of the moment pressed down on her, but she didn’t shrink beneath it—no, she thrived in it.

Her gaze swept across the crowd, taking in the stunned faces, the open mouth. But.. she wasn’t done yet.

One last move.

Agatha tilted her chin up, eyes locking onto the nearest camera, letting the silence stretch, letting the anticipation simmer. And then—

She smirked.

"Oh, and before I leave…” She let her voice dip, let it slide into something almost playful, something taunting. “Make sure you catch this—"

And then she moved.

Stepping down from the podium, cutting through the crowd like a force of nature, her stride steady, purposeful. People gasped, whispering frantically, and somewhere behind her, donors were probably having a heart attack. She didn’t care.

Because she was going to her.

Rio stood stiffly, eyes flickering like she was unaware of what was happening.

Didn’t matter.

Because Agatha reached her, grabbed the front of her blazer—

And kissed her.

Not just a kiss. Not something soft or delicate or shy. No.

War was over.

This was every stolen glance, every unspoken word, every night spent wondering "what if "crashing together.

It was a claim.

It was love.

Rio's entire body going rigid, she was in shock—before she broke. Before she gave in.

Her hands flew to Agatha’s waist, gripping her tight, desperate, as if this was the last time they’d ever touch. She kissed back, just as fierce, just as wrecked, and Agatha felt herself melt.

Agatha took Rio's face in her hands and smiled. Open and wide. 

"I would never deny you. I don't care what it costs me."

And kissed her again. And again. And again.

The cameras flashed like fireworks.

And for the first time in her life—

Agatha Harkness was exactly where she was meant to be.

Chapter Text

They say Pandora was warned. That she was told, time and time again, to leave the box untouched.

They say curiosity was what doomed her—that she was weak, reckless, unthinking. That the weight of temptation was simply too much for a fragile thing like her to bear.

But what they fail to understand is this:

It was never just about curiosity.

It was about longing. About the desperate need to know what lurked inside, even if it meant breaking the world in the process.

And perhaps that was love, too.

A choice, reckless and inevitable, that once made, could never be undone.

Because the moment you open that box—

There is no closing it.

Agatha could feel it, humming in her bones, as if the very fabric of reality had been rewoven by the weight of her words, by the press of her lips against Rio’s.

The echoes of camera flashes still burned behind her eyes, the roar of the crowd still rattling in her ears, but none of it mattered.

Not when she had done it.

Not when she had finally, finally ripped the mask off and let them see her. The real her. 

The box had been opened.

And now, there was no going back.

She should’ve been terrified. She should’ve felt the familiar tendrils of dread winding around her throat, whispering about consequences, about fallout, about the career she had just torched in front of all those people.

But all she could feel was breathless.

Because for the first time in her life—

Agatha was free.

And wasn’t that love, too? Not just a surrender, not just an undoing, but a liberation. A choice that sets you free, even as it destroyed you.

Maybe that was why Pandora had opened the box, why she had ignored the warnings, why she had let her trembling fingers pry apart the seal.

Because to keep it shut—to let it fester, unseen, unheard, unlived—would have been the real curse.

And so, Agatha had chosen.

Agatha had chosen Rio.

**

Agatha’s grip on Rio’s wrist was firm, unrelenting, her steps cutting through the crowd like a blade. She didn’t slow down, didn’t hesitate, and Rio—stunned, breathless—let herself be pulled along, the sound of cameras flashing, voices rising, fading into background noise.

The cold air of the night hit them as soon as they reached the front entrance. Still, Agatha didn’t stop. She moved forward with the same intensity, adrenaline coursing through her veins like fire.

Rio barely had time to register what was happening before the door of a sleek black car swung open, and suddenly, they were inside— in the backseat.

For a moment, there was silence. 

Agatha was staring at her, her chest rising and falling, her pupils blown wide with something dark, something Rio had never seen so unchecked before. It wasn’t just adrenaline. It was need. Hunger. Desperation wrapped in wildfire.

“I need you” Agatha breathed. Her voice was rough, almost unsteady, but her hands—her hands weren’t. One was still gripping Rio’s wrist, the other pressing against the leather seat beside her, caging her in. “Like, right now.”

Rio swallowed hard. “Agatha, I—”

“I need to get the fucking image of that woman touching you out of my head.”

Rio’s lips parted. “Are you serious? I think we should talk-”

Agatha’s fingers flexed around her wrist. “You have no idea how serious I am.”

Rio let out a breath, shaky. Her mind was still trying to catch up to everything that had just happened—Agatha’s speech, her declaration, the cameras, the kiss— god, the kiss. It had left her burning, but now, now Agatha was looking at her like she was the only thing left in the world, and that was even more dangerous.

“Agatha,” Rio tried again, voice softer this time.

She wanted to reach her, to understand, but Agatha was already moving closer, so close that Rio could feel the heat radiating off her skin.

“I don’t want to think,” Agatha confessed, her breath ghosting over Rio’s lips. “I don’t want to talk, I don’t want to explain, I don’t want to process—” Her hand slid down, fingers brushing against the pulse at Rio’s throat, and fuck, she was trembling. “I just want—”

Rio’s breath hitched. “Me?”

Agatha let out a choked laugh, half-despair, half-devotion. “God, yes. You.”

Rio’s heart clenched. Because for all the hunger in Agatha’s voice, there was something else beneath it. Something raw. Something that sounded a lot like fear.

“You don’t have to prove anything to me,” Rio murmured, lifting a hand—hesitant at first, but then, as if drawn by some unseen force, she let her fingers brush against Agatha’s cheek. “You don’t have to prove anything to anyone.”

Agatha turned her head slightly, pressing into her palm, her lashes fluttering shut for the briefest second before she opened them again, piercing. “I know that.”

“Do you?”

Agatha exhaled sharply, a flicker of frustration crossing her face. “I know what I want.”

“And what do you want?”

The question settled between them, thick and heavy, and Agatha answered the only way she knew how—with action. She surged forward, closing the distance, her hands framing Rio’s face as she crashed their lips together, raw and desperate.

Rio gasped against her mouth, but she didn’t pull away.

She didn’t want to.

Because God help her, she wanted this too. So damn much.

Agatha’s fingers were in Rio’s hair in an instance, her lips pressing hungrily against hers, and Rio could barely keep up.

Agatha had just set fire to her world, and now she was trying to burn them both alive with the way she touched her.

Rio’s back hit the seat as Agatha pushed forward, straddling her in the confined backseat space, hands gripping her face, the back of her neck, pulling her hair, as if trying to memorize every inch of her at once.

Agatha’s breath was heavy, her lips parted, her pupils blown wide. There was nothing careful about her. 

They kept kissing until Rio felt herself getting wet. Agatha was grinding against her, wearing only a dress. 

Rio was sure she could feel Agatha's wetness in her underwear too.

But just as Rio started to let her hand drift, with the intention of reaching for Agatha's panties and pushing them to the side, the car lurched to a stop.

The driver cleared his throat from the front seat while pushing the coms button to speak. "We’ve arrived, Miss Harkness."

Ralph couldn't see them, he was always separated by a dark glass. But, well... 

For a second, neither of them moved. Agatha's hands were still curled into the lapels of Rio’s blazer, her forehead resting against Rio’s, their breaths mingling in the heated air. Then, without a word, Agatha pulled the door open and stepped out. She didn’t let go of Rio’s hand.

Rio barely had a second to find her balance before Agatha was leading her inside. She moved quickly, purposefully, her grip tight. Rio tried to speak. "Agatha, look, I-" but Agatha wasn’t listening.

Not yet.

The door had barely shut behind them before Agatha was on her again, pressing her against the wall, capturing her lips in another bruising kiss. Rio gasped, hands flying up to steady her, but Agatha didn’t stop, didn’t slow. Her mouth moved to Rio’s jaw, her throat, her hands tracing patterns over her waist, her back, pulling her impossibly close.

"Sweetheart—" Rio started, voice slightly hoarse, but Agatha only kissed her harder, cutting her off.

Her hands slid under Rio’s blazer, pushing it from her shoulders, her touch desperate, frantic. Rio barely had time to register it before Agatha was reaching for the buttons of her shirt next.

Rio inhaled sharply, catching Agatha’s wrists before she could go further.

"Agatha, wait. Just—wait."

Her voice was firmer this time, and finally, finally, Agatha stilled. Her chest rose and fell rapidly, her lips parted, her eyes dark with something Rio couldn’t quite place.

For the first time since the speech, Rio could really look at her. And Agatha—Agatha seemed out of herself.

Her usually sharp, composed exterior was cracked wide open. Her makeup was smudged, her hair slightly disheveled, but it was her eyes that made Rio’s stomach twist. There was something raw there, something close to breaking.

"What—" Rio swallowed, trying to steady herself. "What was that, Agatha? Why did you do it? Why now?"

Agatha was silent for a moment, her hands still curled in the fabric of Rio’s shirt. Then, slowly, she let go. She took a step back. Another. Like she was suddenly afraid of being too close.

She turned away, running a hand through her hair, letting out a sharp exhale. She just stared at the ground.

When she spoke, her voice was quiet, almost too quiet. "I couldn’t lose you."

Rio blinked, unware of what to say.

Agatha turned back to face her, eyes glassy now, her lower lip trembling slightly. "I’d rather lose everything but you."

It hit Rio like a punch to the chest. The words. The way she said them. The way they mirrored the very thing she had thrown at Agatha in anger that night in her apartment. 

Agatha let out a hollow laugh, shaking her head. "You were so unfair, Rio. Saying those things, making me out to be some kind of coward, like I didn’t—like I didn’t care. But I did. I do." Her voice cracked. "You think I wanted to hurt you? That I wanted to leave? That I wanted to make you feel like some kind of second choice?"

Rio opened her mouth, but no words came out. Her throat was too tight.

"I needed—" Agatha let out a breath, pressing a hand to her forehead before looking at Rio again. "I needed to show you. To show everyone. That you were wrong. That I wasn’t going to hide anymore. That I wouldn’t let them take you from me."

The room was so silent, Rio could hear her own heartbeat pounding in her ears.

She licked her lips, trying to find something—anything—to say. But there was nothing. Because Agatha was right.

Because this wasn’t just about Rio. This was about Agatha, too. About all the ways she had been forced to fold herself into something palatable, something safe. About all the ways people had controlled her, used her, discarded her when she was no longer convenient.

And maybe, just maybe, this was the first time in her life that Agatha had chosen something entirely for herself.

Rio’s fingers twitched at her sides. She wanted to touch her. To pull her in. To kiss her until all of this hurt less.

But Agatha had already moved. Turning her head to the side, she brought her hands to her face, wiping at her eyes quickly, like she could erase the evidence of her tears.

Then, clearing her throat, she let out a shaky breath and looked at Rio once more. "So, what now?"

Rio exhaled slowly, then took a step forward.

"Now," she murmured, reaching for Agatha’s hands, "we figure this out."

Before Agatha could answer, Rio kept talking. “You just—” she swallowed. “You just came out in front of the entire city. You threw a nuclear bomb into your campaign, into your entire career—”

“I know.”

“And you did it all because—”

“Because I couldn’t lose you.”

Rio’s hands loosened, sliding down Agatha’s wrists, her fingers brushing against Agatha’s pulse point, where her heart was racing. Agatha looked at her, helpless in a way that was terrifying.

“I need you to believe me,” Agatha whispered.

She searched Agatha’s face, looking for hesitation, for doubt, for any sign that this was some grand, reckless impulse. But there was only certainty. Only want, only need, only something that looked dangerously close to devotion.

Rio exhaled sharply. Then she moved.

Rio kissed her like the world was about to end.

Agatha moaned into it, tilting her head, deepening the angle, fingers sliding into Rio’s hair as if she were trying to hold her there forever.

They stumbled through the living room, lips never breaking apart, knocking into furniture in their haste. Rio barely registered when they reached the bedroom, the backs of her knees hitting the edge of the mattress, making them both fall.

Agatha pulled back just enough to look at her. Rio was beneath her, hands gripping Agatha’s waist, her pupils blown wide.

Agatha leaned in, her lips barely brushing Rio’s ear as she whispered, “Say you believe me.”

Rio’s breath hitched. She closed her eyes for a second, before opening them again, locking onto Agatha’s gaze. And this time, she didn’t hesitate.

“I believe you.”

The weight of Agatha's hand on her thigh was electric. Rio's fingers splayed across Agatha's back, tracing the curve of her spine, feeling the muscles tense beneath her touch.

Rio could only imagine she was dreaming. Agatha in that fucking dress, on top of her.

"Fuck, Agatha," Rio muttered, her voice barely audible, yet heavy with desire. 

Agatha's response was a low groan, her lips finding Rio's neck, her teeth grazing the sensitive skin.

"God, you taste good," Agatha murmured, her voice laced with hunger. Her hand slid higher, her fingers tracing the hem of Rio's shirt before dipping underneath, skimming the smooth skin of her belly.

Rio gasped, her hips arching off the bed, inviting Agatha’s touch. But Agatha was in no rush, her fingers trailing upwards, teasing, her thumb brushing the lace of Rio's bra.

Agatha's touch was like fire, her fingers tracing patterns on Rio's skin that made her rub her legs together. Rio could feel the heat building between them.

But Agatha was in no rush.

She sat up, straddling Rio's hips, a wicked smile playing on her lips as she leaned down to kiss her again. Rio eagerly responded, deepening the kiss.

But Agatha pulled back too soon for Rio's liking.

She stood up in front of the bed.

"No... Come back-" Rio started.

Agatha reached behind herself and unzipped the dress, letting it fall to the floor in a pool of fabric. Rio couldn't help but stare at Agatha's nearly naked body, her breasts barely contained by the lace of her bra.

Agatha smirked at Rio's reaction before leaning down to continue their kisses. But this time, she didn't stop at just Rio's lips. She trailed hot open-mouthed kisses down Rio's abs and left a bite mark.

Rio let out a low moan as Agatha moved up, opening her shirt buttons completely.

Her lips finding a nipple through the fabric of Rio's bra. Agatha took her time teasing and sucking on it until it peaked against the lace.

"Fuck," Rio gasped as Agatha switched to the other breast, repeating the same delicious torture.

Agatha pulled away just as things were getting too intense for Rio to handle. She sat back up and reached behind herself once again to unclasp her bra. And just like that, she was completely topless.

Rio couldn't take her eyes off of Agatha's perfect breasts as she leaned back down and resumed their heated make-out session. As their lips moved together hungrily, Agatha's hands found their way to Rio's breasts once again.

This time there was no teasing. Her hands roamed freely over every inch of Rio's skin. 

Rio couldn't help but moan into Agatha's mouth as she felt her fingers tracing lower, towards the waistband of her pants.

Agatha grinded against her knee before moving her hand lower, slipping under the fabric to cup Rio's center.

Rio could feel Agatha dripping into her pants. "Baby, you're so- oh, fuck, Agatha..."

Rio arched her hips into Agatha's touch, aching for more. But Agatha wasn't done teasing yet.

"Hmm, I'm so what? Tell me."

Rio couldn't even respond, she just moaned. Agatha continued to tease and rub against the sensitive bundle of nerves of her clit. "Fuck, Agatha- Y-yes, just like that-"

Suddenly, Agatha pulled away, leaving Rio panting and wanting more. She sat up and reached for the zipper of Rio's pants, slowly pulling them down along with her panties.

Rio lifted her hips to help remove them completely before lying back on the bed, fully exposed to Agatha's gaze. And oh, how she loved being looked at by this woman.

Agatha didn't hesitate to take in the sight before her – Rio spread out beneath her, flushed with arousal and desire. She moved down the bed, positioning herself between Rio's legs and slowly trailed kisses down Rio’s inner thigh.

Rio could feel every nerve in her body light up as Agatha drew closer to where she wanted her most. Her anticipation grew until finally Agatha’s hot breath hit exactly where she needed it most.

"Please," Rio begged as Agatha teased with slow licks around her core.

"Please what?" Agatha breathed against her cunt. 

"Please, I want to come in your mouth.." Rio arched to try and get closer.

But instead of giving in right away, Agatha kept up the teasing torment... Licking her folds, slowly. 

Sucking her inner lips like she was tasting one last meal. 

Drawing circles and patterns along her cunt, never reaching Rio's clit.

"Will you be a good girl and come all over my mouth, hm?" Agatha whispered, lifting her eyes to look at Rio from bellow.

"Fuck- Yes, I will... Just please-" Rio reached for Agatha's hair and pulled it slightly, trying to take her tongue to her clit.

Agatha grinned at the pull – sliding two fingers inside of her while simultaneously attacking her clit with calculated flicks of tongue.

"Hmm, yes- oh- just like that, keep going."

The sensations were overwhelming and incredible all at once. It wasn't long before Rio felt her release building. 

"Am I fucking you good, hm?" Agatha sucked on her clit. "Are you gonna come for me?" she curled her fingers inside Rio and touched that sweet spot. 

"Agatha- oh- Fuck" Rio could feel liquid filling her up. "Don't stop, please don't-" 

Agatha took her mouth off, leaving her fingers pumping.

In and out. In and out.

Stronger. 

Faster. 

She pushed herself up and closed Rio's legs, leaving her fingers inside her. 

She pushed Rio's closed legs over her right shoulder, leaning foward. Rio's legs bent back. Her fingers reaching her G-spot just right.

"A-Agatha" Rio closed her eyes and moaned.

By now Agatha was almost on top of her, her face just inches for her. 

"I wanna feel you squirt all over my fingers and only then you deserve my mouth again, do you understand?"

Rio nodded in pleasure. 

Her legs over Agatha's shoulder were starting to tremble. "I'm c-close"

"Are you, pretty boy?" Agatha curled her fingers and started to shake them inside her cunt. 

"Fuck- I can't hold it anymore-" Rio was starting to feel her cunt drip all over the sheets. 

"Come for me, my love. I can already feel you clenching all over my fingers" Agatha leaned foward and kissed her, moaning into the kiss while she used her left hand to pinch Rio's nipple. 

Her right hand kept going. Strong thrusts now.

Rio clenched around her when she felt a third finger enter. "Oh my god, I can't-" 

"You can. You're so beautiful, all streched out for me"

And that was it. The praise did it. 

Rio kissed her passionately while she came in her fingers. 

She kept coming.

Agatha whispered against her lips. "Yes, good girl. That's it." 

And she shook her fingers inside and rapidly opened Rio's legs again. 

Rio was still coming when Agatha placed her mouth over her clit. 

Then, she took her fingers out in a fast motion, and placed her tongue in her entrance. 

"Mhmmmm, so good. You taste so good" She pushed her tongue in and out while she licked Rio's cum.

"Jesus, I-" Rio breathed. 

"Jesus is not here, only me baby." And she kept licking her clean, earning a some lazy moans from her lover. 

"I love you so much. I love how you learned to fuck me just right." 

"I had a good-" another lick "teacher."

Agatha then lied down next to Rio, face down. Rio was still catching her breath while she played with Agatha's hair. 

"I need to take these off.." Agatha whispered while she reached for her panties. 

"Oh, let me." 

Rio sat up and reached behind her. She first left a trail of kisses on her back, to which Agatha moaned. 

"You're so sweet to me," Agatha murmured with her face to the pillow. 

Rio then reached for her panties and slowly push them down. Agatha moved her ass up to help. 

"Fuck, you're drenched.." Rio whispered with a smile plastered across her face while she looked at her pussy. 

"Hmm, you think?" Agatha pushed her ass up again and shook it with a playful intent. 

Rio looked amazed just by staring at her bare cunt, waving in front of her, dripping wet. 

She reached for Agatha's ass cheeks and massaged them for a while. 

Agatha moaned. "You see what you do to me?" She asked teasingly, while she placed her hand between her legs and made a motion with her fingers to open her folds so Rio could have a better view. 

Rio licked her lips at the view. "I see..."

Agatha's pussy was dripping with want. 

Still on her back, Agatha started massaging her own clit, making her folds move with the motion. 

Rio just stood there, on her knees, watching. 

Then, she reached for Agatha's ass cheeks and opened them, while Agatha touched herself. She licked her pussy from the bottom to the top. 

Slowly.

"Rio... You feel so good," Agatha kept circling her clit with Rio's tongue inside her. "Yes baby, lick all of me... Yes."

"Mhmmm" Rio murmured with her tongue still inside her. 

They stayed like this for a while. Agatha touching herself and Rio filling her mouth with her cum. 

Then, Rio was getting so turned on she let go of her ass with her right hand and took it to her own cunt. 

She started circling her folds, again, very wet.

"Are you touching yourself?" Agatha moaned. She reached back with one of her hands to grab the ass cheek Rio left. "Such a nasty girl. You can't bare the thought of my cunt on your face without getting all worked up can't you?"

"Mhmm, no..." Rio moaned while licking her.

Agatha could hear the sounds Rio was making just by touching herself.

So wet, so needy. 

"Poor baby -oh, Rio" she was sure she was gonna come just by sensing Rio touching behind her with her mouth to her cunt. 

Agatha sped up her movents, playing with her clit even faster now. 

"Are you gonna come again baby? Poor you, can't even wait," Agatha moaned again. 

Rio sucked her pussy lips with intention now, sucking all of the liquid around it. She loved when Agatha talked.

"Oh, someone's getting greedy, hm? Are you gonna suck me dry?" Agatha kept massaging her clit while she spoke.

Rio left her cunt for a second. She moaned while she massaged her own cunt, pushing her fingers inside now. 

Agatha grinned, she knew Rio was taking a moment to appreciate the view. So bent over even more, arching her ass up. 

She took her fingers to open her folds again, revealing white liquid coming from her entrance. "You like that, don't you? You're so nasty, so needy for me.." 

"Fuck, Agatha..." Rio pushed her fingers inside herself faster.

Agatha smirked to the sound. She kept playing and waving her cunt to Rio. Then, she pushed two fingers inside herself too. 

"Hmmm.... Look at this handsome, you make me so turned on I could fit even one more finger.." She pushed three fingers now, making cum drip outside.

Rio was sure she would come just like this. But-

God, she needed to feel her. 

"Turn around, Agatha," Rio moaned while she spoke, her voice shaking. 

Agatha turned around, now lying in bed facing Rio. She stared while she touched herself for her. "You're so beautiful, Rio. And all mine." She licked her lips. 

Rio kept massaging her cunt facing Agatha. "Have you ever- oh, god- have you ever done a 69?" 

Agatha smirked. Her eyes darkened. "I haven't, but that sounds-" 

"Good- oh, fuck- Just sit on my face. Right-" Rio was playing with herself too much, she would come if she didnt stop, "Right now."

Agatha sat up and in an instance, pushed Rio back. Turning her back to her. 

Rio leaned into her back. She reached for her breasts and massaged them. 

"Hmm, Rio"

Agatha took her hand to her back and pushed Rio behind with force, leaving her, once again, with a good view of her ass. 

She climbed on top of her backwards, until she was placed on top of her mouth. 

"Eat me out, pretty boy. Make that tongue work." And she sat down on her tongue. 

"Mhmmm" Rio moaned with her mouth filled by Agatha's folds, clit, everything. She worked all around.

"I bet you're gonna come so fast with your mouth in my pussy and my mouth licking you up," Agatha teased and then she lowered her mouth and sucked on Rio's clit. 

Rio let her head fall back for a second just to moan at the sensation. 

Agatha sped up, like she was challenging her to do the same. So Rio, being Rio... did. 

They kept licking each other, sucking, moaning. 

Until Agatha placed her fingers inside of Rio, while she traced patterns all over her cunt. 

She doesn't even know how Agatha learned how to work so good in that position, but-

"Agatha- No, no, I can't-"

"Oh, poor baby, you're gonna come? Again?" 

Rio didn't answer. She just looked at Agatha's cunt dripping with cum while she fucked her. What a view. 

They sure needed to 69 more often.

She could sense Agatha was getting off just by eating her out in that position. She was clenching around nothing. 

Rio pushed her arm back and positioned it to do the same as Agatha. Fingering her. 

She pushed a finger inside. Then, two. Then.... Three. 

Agatha moaned so damn loud against her cunt. 

Rio was almost almost there, but she was determined to make her come first. 

"You're so wet for me, sweetheart," Rio pushed her fingers in and out faster now. "I can feel your heartbeat from inside.."

Agatha slowed her movements, hinting she was about to come. Rio smirked. 

She positioned her mouth in a way that made her finger Agatha and licked her at the same time. 

Agatha did the same. 

They moaned at the same time. 

And then- 

Rio felt a wave of wetness arrive her fingers. She moaned in pleasure while she licked what was dripping to the outside. 

"Yes, Rio... God- Fuck-"

"Don't-"

"Don't stop"

"I'm c-coming"

When Agatha moaned that final phrase she lowered her head and took Rio's clit in her mouth. She sucked on it while she came. 

Rio felt a wave of pleasure hit her like a motherfucker. Her legs started trembling.

She fucked each other through the orgasm with the same intensity, until Agatha collapsed on top of her. Breathless. 

Rio slapped her ass. "Well, who's the needy one now?" 

"Shut up, you brat," Agatha chuckled. 

"At least I'm your brat," Rio chuckled back. 

**

Agatha lay next to Rio, her head resting against her shoulder, eyes closed.

Rio reached out, gently brushing a strand of Agatha's hair behind her ear, her fingers tracing the curve of her jaw. Agatha smiled, turning her head slightly to meet her gaze.

"You know," Agatha murmured, her voice low and teasing, "you're not as bad as I thought."

Rio chuckled softly, her thumb rubbing over Agatha's skin. "You think I'm not a brat?"

"No, that you are," Agatha said, her eyes sparkling with mischief. "But it's part of your charm."

Rio's smile softened, and she leaned in, pressing a gentle kiss to Agatha's forehead. "You're the best part of this," she whispered, the sincerity in her voice making Agatha’s heart flutter.

Agatha closed her eyes, feeling the warmth of Rio’s kiss linger. “I like this. With you, I mean. It's... nice.”

Rio laughed softly, brushing a hand through Agatha's hair. "Nice?" she teased, raising an eyebrow. "I thought I was more than nice."

"You are," Agatha replied, her voice full of affection. "You're.."

There was a quiet pause before Rio pulled Agatha closer, wrapping her arms around her in a gentle embrace. "Hmm, I'm what?"

Agatha nestled into her arms, feeling the steady rhythm of Rio’s heartbeat against her own. "Everything, Rio. You're everything."

Rio couldn’t help but run her fingers up and down Agatha’s back, a soothing rhythm. "I love you so much, Agatha."

Agatha tilted her head, resting it on Rio’s chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart. "I love you too, really," she whispered.

They stayed tangled in each other for a while. And then-

“Do you think we’re real?” Agatha asked suddenly, her voice thoughtful.

Rio chuckled, her fingers pausing for a moment as she considered the question. “Real? Like, really real?”

“Yeah,” Agatha responded, lifting her head slightly to look at Rio, her eyes searching her face. “This. Us.”

Rio’s smile grew warmer, and she kissed her lips, softly. “I think we’re as real as it gets. You and me, here. I don’t need anything else.”

Agatha let the words sink in, her heart swelling with a warmth she didn’t often feel. “I like that,” she whispered, resting her face back against Rio’s chest.

“You’re safe here,” Rio murmured, her voice filled with tenderness. “With me.”

The words wrapped around Agatha like a soft blanket, and she felt a contented sigh escape her lips. She knew, in this quiet moment, that whatever happened next, whatever the world threw at them, this connection—this feeling—was hers to keep.

“You know,” Agatha began, her voice teasing again, “I’m not usually this... soft.”

Rio chuckled softly, her fingers brushing against Agatha’s cheek. “I think I like you this way. And you do too.”

Agatha’s lips curled into a small smile. “I might get used to it.”

Rio grinned, her eyes sparkling. “Good. Because I’m definitely getting used to you.”

And with that, they shared another soft kiss, gentle and slow, each one lingering longer than the last. 

**

Agatha stretched lazily in bed, glancing over at Rio, who was half asleep beside her. She could feel the weight of the moment—the soft quiet, the warmth, the connection between them—but suddenly, a thought struck her.

“Rio,” she said, her voice surprisingly serious for the moment. “I need to do something.”

Rio blinked and looked at her through half-closed eyes. “What? Are you... leaving?” she asked, her voice thick with sleep.

“No, no, nothing like that.” Agatha threw the covers off dramatically, standing up with exaggerated purpose. “I have an important mission. It’s... crucial.” She grabbed her robe and adjusted it around her, looking as if she were about to embark on some grand adventure. “I’ll be back shortly. Wait here.”

She didn’t give Rio a chance to respond before she made her way towards the kitchen.

Rio, confused but still mostly dazed, stayed put, watching Agatha disappear down the hall. She squinted at the empty space, slightly worried. “Uh... Agatha? What are you—?”

But Agatha was already rummaging through the pantry, muttering to herself. She found what she was looking for—a box full of candy. Agatha grinned to herself, proud of her “master plan.”

A minute later, she returned to the bedroom, holding a lollipop ring triumphantly in front of her like it was a rare and precious gem.

“Ta-da!” she said with a grin.

Rio raised an eyebrow, still lying in bed, now more awake and definitely amused. “What is that?”

Agatha walked over to the side of the bed, holding the candy out like a proposal. She kneeled on the floor.

“Will you—Rio Vidal—be my girlfriend?” She made a big show of presenting the candy, looking entirely too serious as she added, “This lollipop ring is all I have to offer, but I promise it’s symbolic of my... affections. Please say yes.”

Rio burst into laughter, sitting up in bed. “You’re kidding me.”

“I’m not! This is it. The moment. The grand gesture.” Agatha feigned a dramatic sigh, pretending to be out of breath. “And don’t think it’s just about the lollipop. It’s a commitment, Rio. A sweet one.”

Rio took the green candy ring, her face lighting up with warmth and amusement. She slipped it onto her finger, mock-serious. “I accept. I will be your girlfriend. I’ll wear your lollipop ring with pride.”

Agatha beamed, collapsing back onto the bed beside her, snuggling up against Rio’s chest. “I knew you’d come around.”

Rio laughed softly, running a hand through Agatha’s hair. “You’re something else,” she said, pressing a soft kiss to her forehead. “But I love you.”

“I love you too,” Agatha said with a small, satisfied smile. She then added, “And you look pretty cute wearing that ring.”

Rio chuckled. “You’re lucky I’m crazy about you, Harkness.”

"You're also crazy about candy," Agatha chuckled and she took Rio's ring to her mouth, tasting it. 

"Hey! That's my candy!" Rio chuckled. 

"And you're my girlfriend!"

Agatha climbed on top of her and attacked her with kisses. 

Chapter Text

07:00 AM. The first bomb explodes.

It was quiet, save for the distant sound of birds singing beyond the windows. The bedroom air was still warm, thick with remnants of the night before—tangled sheets, scent of skin on skin, the lingering taste of a promise spoken between breathless kisses, one lollipop ring and a question.

Rio stirred first, eyes heavy as she shifted onto her side, the movement gentle, like she was afraid to disturb the stillness.

And.. there she was—Agatha.

Sleeping. Peaceful, for once.

Her hair was a mess against the pillow, her lips slightly parted, her breath steady.

Rio didn’t think she had ever seen her look so... soft. So unguarded. So real.

Her gaze traced the curve of Agatha’s bare shoulder, the way the sheets barely clung to her form. It was strange, really, the way her heart ached just by looking at her.

A different kind of ache than before—no longer just yearning, but..

Now, there was no more guessing. No more stolen glances across crowded rooms, no more hiding in the shadows of uncertainty.

Last night, Agatha had said it.

Be my girlfriend?

The question replayed in her mind, looping like an old record, as if dissecting it could somehow make it seem more real.

Had she meant it? Truly, deeply meant it?

Or had it been the heat of the moment? A reckless declaration fueled by adrenaline, by defiance, by the need to prove something—to herself, to Rio, to the entire fucking world.

Rio swallowed. Her throat felt tight.

Because this was Agatha Harkness, after all.

Congresswoman Harkness, the woman who built walls so high, no one had ever really seen past them. Future Senator Harkness, the woman whose entire life had been shaped by duty, by expectation, by the constant, crushing weight of needing to be perfect—or at least, the version of perfect the world demanded of her.

Future President Harkness? 

Had Agatha just... thrown all of that away? For her?

God, the thought itself made her chest squeeze.

It was too much. Too big. Too impossible.

She studied Agatha’s face, searching for signs of regret even in sleep. But she found none. Only the steady rise and fall of her breathing, the faint furrow of her brows like she was dreaming of something.

Her fingers twitched, instinct telling her to reach out, to touch, to hold on—

But she didn’t.

Because she wasn’t sure if she had the right to.

Instead, she exhaled slowly, sinking further into the pillow, letting herself watch Agatha for a moment longer.

Trying to ignore the nagging, gnawing feeling that maybe, just maybe...

This was all too good to be true.

But her mind couldn't fight the need to touch Agatha. She loved her. She loved her so deeply. Her face, her eyes, her nose, her brows, her smile, her hair. God, that hair.

But more than anything, she loved her soul. Her essence. The way Agatha's magnetic existence pulled her in.

Rio reached out gently, placing her fingertips softly on Agatha's hair. She played with her hair for a while, so softly, she wondered if Agatha could even feel it. 

Agatha's lips turned into a soft smile, still in her sleep. 

Rio let herself feel that peace for a while, but then, Agatha's phone buzzed. 

Her fingers twitched against Agatha's hair, eyes flickering between her peaceful expression and the phone vibrating on the nightstand. 

Jen calling…

Rio sighed. She had half a mind to reach over and silence it. Whatever it was, it could wait. After last night—after everything—they deserved at least a few more minutes of quiet.

But before she could act, Agatha started to move, her brows knitting together at the sound. A quiet groan left her lips as she blindly reached for the phone, blinking, still half awake, at the screen.

Rio caught the hesitation in her movement, the brief second where Agatha just stared at the screen, lips parted like she was weighing the consequences of answering.

“You know,” Rio murmured, voice thick from sleep. “You could just ignore it.”

Agatha exhaled sharply—a sound close to a scoff. “I could.” She glanced at Rio for the briefest moment before swiping to answer.

Rio turned onto her back, one arm resting behind her head, staring at the ceiling as Agatha pressed the phone to her ear. The tone in her voice shifted immediately.

“Yeah..” Agatha said after a pause, already anticipating what was coming. “Jesus Christ, do you think I don’t know that?”

Rio chewed the inside of her cheek. She could only hear one side of the conversation, but it was enough.

“No, I’m not surprised,” Agatha continued.

Her fingers rubbed at her temple, eyes closing briefly.

“Uh-huh. Yeah. I’m on it.”

A beat of silence. Agatha listened to the other end of the call, jaw tightening slightly.

“Well, this doesn’t come as a surprise to me,” she murmured.

Rio swallowed, resisting the urge to press closer.

Agatha finally lowered the phone, sighing as she tossed it onto the nightstand. For a long moment, she just sat there, pinching the bridge of her nose.

Then, she turned, pressing a fleeting kiss to Rio’s cheek—soft, absentminded, like she wasn’t even thinking about it—before reaching for the robe draped over the chair.

Rio caught her wrist before she could fully rise. “Where are you going?”

Agatha paused, looking down at her. 

“Downstairs,” she said simply, shrugging into the robe. “I need to check what they’re saying.”

Rio frowned. “What who is saying?”

Agatha gave her a tired look. “Take a wild guess," she sighed. 

And then it hit her.