agatha harkness one-shots

✧ hate-love team: if the world was ending (the Snap day) ✧

summary: where most of the hate stays in the backseat for a day.

warning(s): none

word count: 3356 words

a/n: hii. not a big fan of this one! :( i fear my inspiration is dead, yei.

─── 「༻ ☪ ༺」───

Baking. Agatha sucks at it but supposedly practice makes perfect.

Since she has plenty of time to spare, she decided to take some cooking lessons, precisely in baking. A pathetic decision she regretted the second the classes started. Because she despises people, and having to deal with them three times a week is a condemnation. Choosing the intensive spring course was not the smartest thing to do.

None of this baker's time madness is, really, though.

"Hey, Agatha, did you happen to have any chocolate chips left over?" Agatha stops inspecting her nails to look almost disinterestedly at Paula, her classmate. Her apron is a mess of flour and traces of chocolate. "I added too much salt to my mix and ruined it. I don't know how I misread the recipe and got the amounts wrong, it's-"

Agatha seriously isn't interested in knowing details she didn't ask for-mortals have enormous difficulty noticing that she detests being social-so she immediately cuts her off.

"Over there," the brunette points to a jar of chips sitting on her already clean and organized countertop. "I want whatever's left over back."

After Paula thanks her and returns to her station with the jar, Agatha huffs dramatically and decides to check that her pastry creation isn't going bad.

Laughter, recipe instructions, frustrated complaints and anecdotes that have nothing to do with cooking invade her ears as Agatha puts on her oven mitts. Everyone around looks so relaxed and happy about something as silly as baking cookies, even the teachers are engaged in making conversation with the rest of the students.

Rolling her eyes, Agatha opens her oven. Bending down to inspect better, she confirms her suspicions. The cookies are coming along nicely but still look raw. A couple more minutes and-

The sound of glass crashing to the floor. It's so habitual at this point that she ignores it completely. But then there's a scream. Agatha searches for the source with her gaze.

Dust. That's what she witness, one of her classmates whose name she didn't learn turning to dust. Disappearing right in front of everyone's terrified eyes.

"Oh God, what's happening?!" Her blue eyes travel to one of the pastry chefs, who panickedly backs away as a new student disappears.

Soon enough, there are humans running in all directions, bumping into each other and kitchen stations, utensils falling noisily to the floor and more glass shattering. And dust, there's dust floating in the air.

Agatha does not react for almost a full minute. She's nothing more than the unaffected spectator of a chaotic, almost fiction-like tape unraveling right around her. But then it hits her hard. Like a slap in the face, or a kick in the butt. The fleeting memory of one person, the one to blame for her baking stupid cookies.

You.

Her apron is gone in the blink of an eye. Soon Agatha's presence vanishes from the building as well, only in a cloud of purple dust.

The city of Manhattan has become a true nightmare.

Helicopters fall from the sky until they crash into skyscrapers. There are people running, screaming and crying at every corner, most of them disintegrating until they disappear completely. Vehicles crash into each other and also into locals, their drivers gone. There's the sound of incessant horns, new explosions, terror spreading around the perimeter and escalating at an overwhelming speed.