Shirein



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    Pregnant.

    Rio stares at the readout panel on the blue and white stick clutched in her trembling hands for a long, terror-soaked, nausea-filled moment.

    This cannot be happening.

    Rio puts the test back down on the bathroom counter. Closes her eyes. Counts to ten. And gives the damn thing a mean little shake after blindly fumbling for it before daring to open her eyes to check result again, just in case.

    Nope. Still pregnant. Oh, fuck.

    “No, Lilia,” she mouths to herself, mockingly echoing her own earlier words. They’d been having breakfast earlier when Rio had found herself chucking up Cheerios in the sink for the fourth day running. That’s when the woman she all but considered to be her mother had decided it was time to gently offer her thoughts on what might be causing Rio’s recent bout of sudden and inexplicable chocolate Cheerio-intolerance. “Of course I’m not pregnant. The last person I slept with was my very female boss but oh, wait!” The script flips as Rio’s voice veers towards mild hysteria. “I forgot that we’re witches who pulled that dumbass stunt while drunk on Beltane!

    //

    A magical accident happens. Chaos follows.

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    30 Jun 2025

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    “Do not,” Agatha said to herself from her spot in the media booth, “you absolutely do not need to defend your honor against-”

    Rio dropped her gloves.

    “God fucking damn it.”

    The Sharks’ forward had barely gotten her own gloves off before Rio’s fist connected with her jaw. The crowd erupted.

    “I am going to kill her,” Agatha announced to no one in particular, already mentally drafting press releases. “Should’ve kept managing curling teams. Nobody ever gets punched in curling.”


    OR: Gently feral hockey star Rio and long-suffering publicist Agatha who definitely doesn’t get paid enough for this shit

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    26 Nov 2024

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    “Shut up,” Agatha all but snarls. Rio crooks an eyebrow at her, smirking.

    “What, you have dibs on her? Can’t blame you, I guess- she is pretty. Seems awfully nice, too. Sweet little thing offered to get up at the crack of dawn tomorrow to welcome me to town, can you believe it?”

    She doesn’t step closer, but she does lean forward slightly. “Tell me, Agatha. Is she that sweet out of the uniform too?”

    “Shut up,” Agatha hisses, and yanks her in for a searing kiss.

    ~

    Over a decade ago, Agatha Harkness ran to Westview to escape the mess of pain and emotions that was her life. Years after she'd left THAT behind, Social Services showed up on her doorstep with the surviving son of her ex-best friend. Now finally, she's gotten her shit together and-

    And now her ex-wife is in town. What's a lesbian to do?
    ~
    Or: a modern AU (for lack of a better word) surrounding Agatha Harkness, her adopted source of stress (I mean, son), her mess of a friend group, and the ex-wife she definitely doesn't still harbor feelings for.

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    01 Nov 2024

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    In the seventies, Wanda decided Westview needed some queer representation. If Agnes hated her husband so much, maybe she’d prefer a wife.

    (In which Ralph wasn’t real.)

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    13 Oct 2024

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    One day, Wanda’s spell fades, and Agatha Harkness is awake again.

    Pissed off and powerless, she casts a spell to take her somewhere, anywhere but Westview—and it takes her to the last place she wants to be.

    Death’s doorstep.

    --

    Agatha and her ex-girlfriend, Death, have a very tumultuous sleepover in Hell.

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    13 Oct 2024