#agatha from beyond the woods

[writtenbycassandra]

why i don't like the netflix adaption of sge

i've watched the movie this weekend, and i have some thoughts to share:

the people in the village actually know about the school and the fairy tales. it's important because in the books it is one of the things that characterizes sophie the way she is. most kids have developed a fear of being selected for the school for good and evil, while sophie is anticipated to be kidnapped by the school master. she even bakes goods for him, feigns "good" demeanor, and discards all the protective mechanisms her father had constructed to keep her safe.

her father and to-be stepmother are portrayed inaccurately as well. they are simple, sane people. in the books, they never treat sophie really horrible. perhaps her father wanted a son instead of a daughter (we don't really find out if that is true or a part of sophie's broken worldview), but he still cares for her—he provides her with enough resources to do her strange make up routine every morning, he eats her gruesome food (yes, he complains, but not with an abusive tone at all, he just sounds tired of having to consume the vegan food he clearly hates), and he tries to prevent her from getting captured. and her stepmother is also a vaguely decent human being, and not a merciless, evil person.

the way sophie talks to people is very different. in the books, everything she did was to make her appear more "good", so she'd be taken to the school for good. she never actually had any motivation apart from her own wants. most people who watched the movie love sophie, but not because they think she is evil, but because they think that she is simply misunderstood. and in the book it's made extremely clear how false this is. sophie is jealous, cheats, manipulates, lies, finds joy in hurting others, kills, judges easily, only cares for her looks, feels no empathy or guilt, and rejects people who are trying to help her. and she doesn't do it because she is misunderstood and wants to find revenge/was taught to be that way/lived through a traumatic event. honestly, i find her pretty scary. book sophie would've killed movie sophie instantly.

agatha is also a point for me. first of all, her looks. and i'm not talking about the race of the actress (acting skills are what matters and she is a good actress), but about the way how they depicted her. agatha was supposed to look "hideous"—oily hair, watery eyes, grim face. people literally flinched before her in the books because of the way she looked (and treated herself accordingly.) but her movie version looks so pretty, and i mean that not in the objective way, but in the way that they didn't include the things that made her appear ugly in the books. they never let her grow and find out that she was always pretty, but nobody recognized it because she couldn't embrace her beauty. also, the thing about her being good is a thing. in the books we are thaught that regardless of her gruff, quiet, lonesome, and sorrowful personality, agatha still can be a good person. but in the movie she's just your average, nice teenage girl. there is no character depth. where is the mean, broken girl who seemed to hated everything, yet wanted to be good? where is the girl that wouldn't give up on sophie? where is the girl that always prioritized others? well, we never really got to see her in the movie.

agatha and tedros' relationship is an insta-love story instead of a slow burn. remember, in the books he hated her at first and literally wanted to kill her until like over 300 pages into the book. just saying. and in the movie, they are all nice to each other, like no? sophie was the one tedros had a crush on at first because he though that she was his would-be princess. (there was also no character depth on his side. he never overcomes his prejudices.)

they revealed stuff way too early and made the two female teachers enemies instead of friends. (also, why is jesper playing the evil gremlin?) that disappointed me because i loved their dynamic in the books.

all the little yet extremely important things were missing... the lessons yuba, professor sader's whole existence, the test about "being good" that agatha aces, so many scenes with the never girls, the ever girls being more evil than some nevers, all the lore.

it was not a bad movie (it's okay, i guess?), but it's a horryfing adaptation of the books.

[zeropointfortyseven]

Can someone please draw this as Agatha and Sophie from The School for Good and Evil??

At first I thought that the lady in pink should be Sophie. Since, obviously. But after a while I realized that it would also be fitting if the lady in pink was Agatha, giving a kiss to “Witch Sophie”.

I’m not really sure which should be which, but please, can someone draw this???

It’s "The Princess and the Swineherd" by Hans Christian Andersen. Art print by Heinrich Lefler

[qianzhangs]

5: result

Professor Dovey sweeps into class with a bundle of papers tucked under her arm. “Good afternoon,” she says, and Kiko and Agatha chorus good afternoon! from the front row, though no one else does. Dovey rewards them with a brief smile as she sets her papers down.

“These are your essays on what it means, to you, to be Good,” Dovey says briskly. “They were… illuminating.” Kiko isn’t a hundred percent sure what Dovey might mean, but judging by the look on her face, it’s not anything good.

“Your ranks for today will be determined by your grade on this essay,” Dovey continues. “I must say that I found myself quite unwilling to give high ranks, given the standards to which you clearly do not hold yourselves. I hope that this class will do better in the future.”

She doesn't look like she thinks they will.

With that ringing encouragement, she waves her wand, and the papers rise up in the air to float to their writers’ desks. All around the room, numbers burst into smoke above their classmates’ heads: 12. 17. 15. 18. It looks like Dovey really meant it when she said she didn’t want to give high ranks— and she is the teacher, so she can do what she wants, Kiko thinks.

Beatrix, behind them, lets out an ugly gasp as she gets hers; Kiko takes a curious look at her. 19. Oh, that’s not good.

She turns back to find Agatha staring at her. Both of them are holding their papers face-down, too scared to look at the grade.

“I’ll flip it if you do,” Agatha offers.

“Promise,” Kiko insists, and Agatha reaches to loop her pinky through Kiko’s. Satisfied, Kiko lets go.

“You’re going to be first,” she whispers.

“Don’t know until we look. Okay, three, two, one,” Agatha counts, and they flip their papers at the same time, and then Kiko nearly drops hers.

“I got an A!” she gasps. It’s not the first time— although, Good Deeds is the only subject she’s ever gotten an A in—but it still gives her a warm fuzzy feeling inside.

Agatha is smiling beside her, a golden 1 floating over her head, a red A sitting at the top right-hand corner of her paper. “Oh, Agatha, congratulations,” Kiko gushes. “I knew you would do it!”

“Hey,” Agatha says, her smile widening. “You too.”

Kiko glances up— there’s a matching golden 2 over her own head. “Oh!” she gasps. “Look, we match.”

“Yes,” Dovey interjects, “congratulations to both of you. I do hope you help your classmates along.” She eyes the rest of the class tiredly.

“I don’t think they want me to, Professor,” Agatha murmurs.

“Well,” Dovey sighs. She doesn’t finish the thought. Just turns to the blackboard and starts writing.

Kiko still has a little bounce in her step as she and Agatha leave the classroom. She’s in the middle of telling Agatha about her essay when someone grabs hold of her from behind, and she yelps, surprised.

“Relax,” the person huffs. “It’s just me.”

It’s Beatrix. Kiko does not relax. Beatrix collects first-place ranks like trophies. She’s scary. And she doesn’t talk to people like Kiko.

“What do you want, Beatrix?” Agatha groans.

“Nothing to do with you,” Beatrix retorts. “Kiko, dear. A word?” Her voice drips with false-sweetness.

“Okay,” Kiko says hesitantly, and lets Beatrix drag her away.

Once Agatha is out of sight, Beatrix says, “How did you get that second-place rank?”

“What?” Kiko says, confused. “I mean— I just wrote the essay?” It hadn’t been anything special. Really.

“For the love of— let me see, darling?” Beatrix asks sweetly. Although Kiko doesn’t see the point in asking when she just snatches the essay anyway.

Beatrix skims through it, crumpling the first page as she flips to the next. “There’s nothing of substance in this at all,” she fumes, mostly to herself. “I don’t get it. Why—?”

Kiko tries to tug it back, but Beatrix doesn’t let go, and she’s forced to let it be. She wouldn’t put it past Beatrix to let her rip it in two. She’d probably say it was Kiko’s own fault.

With a loud sigh, Beatrix skips to Dovey’s comments at the end of the essay. Kiko peers over her shoulder— she hasn’t had the chance to see them either, since Beatrix interrupted them.

You write with heart, Dovey has written. I can tell that you care very much, and although some of your ideas may be unrealistic, I can understand why you would defend them so— they are what should be true, in a world of true Goodness. This is the work of a stellar Evergirl.

Beatrix reads much faster than Kiko. By the time Kiko has finished scanning Dovey’s sweeping cursive, Beatrix’s face is already dark.

“Heart,” she says scornfully. “What does heart have to do with it?”

“That’s what Good Deeds is about,” Kiko protests. “It’s— the real thing. It’s about wanting to be Good. It’s what matters most out of everything we do here.” Kiko has always loved Good Deeds. It’s always felt like the one class she doesn’t have to try in— the one class she doesn’t have to fail anyway.

“You’ll never make it with that attitude, Kiko,” Beatrix says, almost pitying. “It’s not about how Good we are, at the end of the day. It’s about how good we are at playing the part.”

It’s the most genuine Kiko has ever heard her sound.

“Oh, you wouldn’t know,” Beatrix sighs, shaking her head. “You’ll never make it. Forget it.”

“Well I’m the one who got second today, Beatrix, not you,” Kiko retorts, then winces in reflex. It sounds mean, but Beatrix is mean like that all the time. She’s got to be allowed, too, right?

“Fine!” Beatrix exclaims. Her delicate mouth twists into a snarl. “Well, good job, you got second in one class— so what? You’re still going to fail. You’re still going to end up an animal, or a plant, and no one will know who you are, and I’ll be a princess and everyone will love me— isn’t that right? Isn’t that right, Kiko?” Her face is turning steadily redder. She’s never ugly, not really, but Kiko wouldn’t, couldn't, call her pretty like this. Maybe this is Beatrix, deep down. Ugly.

“I can’t believe you’re in Good,” Kiko breathes.

“I’m better than you’ll ever be,” Beatrix hisses. “I have to be. I have to.”

She shoves the essay back into Kiko’s hands and storms off. Kiko stares after her, hurt, confused. Beatrix didn’t need to say any of that. It wasn’t Good of her to say any of that. And she had thought Beatrix wanted to be Good.

Maybe she just wants people to like her. Well, Kiko does too. But— she doesn’t think people would like her like that.

She doesn’t think she could like herself. She wonders, for a second, if Beatrix does.

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

@pumpkinpaperweight had a dream and @bnanmonte gave me brain rot which led to lots of ideas and excess creative energy

what I like to call Separation Au or the universe where Agatha is ready to break bones at all times only Sophie makes it to the school. It's a lot of fun to consider when you realize without Agatha, Sophie can't do more than psychological torment and emotional manipulation - and that's something the schools' inhabitants excel at!

[finalgirlagatha]

heh. agatrix.

i like the idea that beatrix developed a thing for agatha when she came to the school for girls and has a moment of retrospection where she's like. hello. where am i. and goes back to her regularly scheduled agatha infatuation

[autisticagathasblog]

Wanna talk about Hort and Agatha parallel, but idk hm 🤔 🤔

[d-z20]

A Strange Kind of Healing (NSFW)

Pairing: Agatha Harkness x Reader

Summary: You've just broken it off with your good-for-nothing ex and find yourself at your local watering hole mulling things over. That is until a stunning woman catches your eye - and it just so happens that you've caught Agatha's too

- OR -

Turns out she owns the place and takes you back to her office to treat you right (i.e. giving you all the validation you need as she fucks you)

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, alcohol, top Agatha, fingering (R recv), little bit of biting, hint of soft Agatha but she's cocky too, mentions of a shitty ex, mentions of body worship-ish, obligatory sprinkling of praise

Words: 2k

A/N: Y'all want to know what's been causing my writers block? The mf word murmur. I couldn't find a synonym that felt right 🥲 Fic request

AO3 | Masterlist

The low hum of conversation fills Agnes’, your local bar; it’s dimly lit and the kind of place that feels both intimate and mysterious. The air smells faintly of aged whisky and citrus, and the amber glow from the sconces flickers softly against the polished wood of the bar top. You’re nursing your second drink, fingers trailing lazily over the rim of your glass, when you feel her presence before you even see her.

A throaty laugh cuts through the chatter, and you glance up. There she is: dark, tousled hair, piercing eyes framed by delicate wrinkles, and a smirk that could melt glass. Her confidence radiates from every movement as she leans on the bar, chatting with the bartender. Dressed in a tailored black blazer and slim pants, she looks effortlessly sharp, her shirt unbuttoned just enough to tease. You’ve seen striking women before, but she’s on a different level—someone who knows exactly how powerful her presence is.

You turn back to your drink, unsure whether you want to be noticed, but it’s too late. When you glance back up, she’s looking right at you, her smirk shifting into something softer, more curious. She saunters over, a glass of deep red wine in hand.

“This seat taken?” She asks, her voice smooth like velvet but with an edge of mischief.

You shake your head, suddenly feeling exposed under her gaze. “Not at all.”

She slides onto the stool beside you, and the scent of her—smoke and something floral—makes your head swim.

“Rough night?” She asks, nodding toward your drink. Her tone is casual, but her eyes search yours, seeing far more than you’d like.

You hesitate, then sigh. “Something like that. Let’s just say my choice in partners has been questionable at best.”

“Mm,” she hums, tilting her head. “Let me guess: selfish, inattentive, and couldn’t find your clit even if they had a map and a flashlight?”

Your laugh bursts out before you can stop it, and she grins, clearly pleased.

“Am I wrong?” she presses.

“No, not even a little.” You shake your head, still smiling despite yourself. “It’s been a long time coming, though. I should’ve ended it ages ago.”

“Then here’s to fresh starts,” she says, lifting her glass in a toast. You clink yours against hers, the sound crisp and bright.

She doesn’t hesitate. “I’m Agatha,” she introduces herself smoothly, her eyes never leaving yours.

“Y/N,” you reply, feeling a bit warmer with each passing moment.

—

For the next hour, the conversation flows easily. She’s sharp-witted and shamelessly flirty, but there’s a warmth beneath her teasing that keeps you hooked. She’s funny, too, in that dry, irreverent way that makes you forget everything else. By the time she stands and offers her hand, you’re more than willing to follow her lead.

“Come with me,” she says, her smile promising something you desperately need.

You hesitate only a moment before slipping your hand into hers. Her grip is firm and the way she leads you through the bar, unapologetically confident, makes your pulse race. She doesn’t head for the exit but instead takes you through a discreet door near the back with ‘Employees Only’ written across it. The hallway beyond is quieter, the muffled hum of the bar fading behind you.

“You work here?” You ask, confused as to why she was drinking if she was on shift.

“Honey, I own the place,” she says, glancing back with a sly grin. “One of the perks is having a private office for... moments like these.”

The door to her office swings open, and you barely have time to take in the sleek yet cosy space—a large desk, a leather couch, shelves lined with books and vintage bottles of liquor—before she’s pulling you inside. The door clicks shut, and then her hands are on you, firm but not forceful, cradling your face as her lips find yours.

Her kiss is hot and commanding, her lips soft but unyielding. She tastes of wine and something darker, more rich, and it’s intoxicating. You press against her instinctively, your hands gripping the lapels of her blazer as you lose yourself in her.

She pulls back just enough to whisper, “Tell me if you want to stop.” Her voice is low and serious, despite the heat in her eyes.

“Don’t stop,” you say, breathless. “Please.”

Her smirk returns, but there’s a tenderness there too. She guides you toward the desk, her body pressed onto yours.

“You deserve to be worshipped,” she murmurs, her lips brushing against your jaw. “Let me show you.”

You barely have time to process her words before she presses you back against the cool, unyielding wood of the desk, her body flush and warm against yours. The sharp edge digs into your thighs, but the discomfort is distant—blurred by the heat of her kiss, searing and all-consuming. 

Her hands roam with purpose, sliding over your sides and skimming your waist; her touch is electric. Each brush of her fingertips sends sparks racing across your skin, leaving you hyperaware of every nerve ending. When her hands slip beneath your top to palm at bare skin, a soft gasp escapes your lips. The sound pulls a low hum of approval from her, a vibration you feel against your mouth as she deepens the kiss.

Her hands move lower, tracing the curve of your hips before deftly unfastening your pants. The motion is fluid, confident, like she’s done this a thousand times but still finds the thrill in it. Her lips leave yours, only to trail a slow, deliberate path along your jaw and down your neck. Her breath is warm, teasing against your skin, and every press of her mouth feels like a promise—one she’s intent on keeping. 

Her teeth scrape along your collarbone before she bites down, not hard enough to break the skin but enough to make you cry out. The sound earns a growl from her throat, her hands gripping your hips to pull you closer.

Then her hands slide further down, finding your clit with ease. The first circle of her touch steals the breath from your lungs, and your hips move instinctively, arching into her hand, chasing the friction she offers so expertly. 

She nips at your earlobe, her voice turning commanding. 'Stay still for me,' she murmurs, her fingers holding your hips in place even as your body twists against her touch.

Your hands fly into her hair, gripping tightly as if to anchor yourself to her. She hums in satisfaction, her lips ghosting over your ear as she whispers, “Let me hear you.”

You let go of your reservations, letting the sounds spill from your lips, each one urging her on. Fingers working you steadily, her rhythm relentless and perfectly tuned to your responses. The pleasure builds with each pass, but a flicker of something else pushes to the surface—an ache for more, for something deeper, something that will tip you over the edge completely.

The thought lingers, teasing the edges of your mind. You want more. You need more. The way her fingers tease and circle feels incredible, but you crave something fuller, something that will truly unravel you. The desire is sharp, but it’s accompanied by doubt, a familiar weight that settles heavily in your chest.

Your ex’s voice echoes unbidden in your mind, a memory of every time they dismissed your needs, every time they made you feel like asking for more was too much. The hesitation claws at you, tightening your throat even as the heat in your core builds.

Her lips press against your collarbone, the soft warmth of her mouth drawing you back to the present. “You’re so perfect,” she murmurs against your skin, her voice reverent, her fingers never faltering. “So responsive. Tell me what you need, sweetheart. I want to give it to you.”

Her words pierce through the haze of doubt, cutting through the insecurities threatening to hold you back. You hesitate, your body trembling beneath her touch, before finally forcing the words past your lips, shaky but audible. “I want... more,” you whisper, your voice barely louder than a breath. “Please.”

She stills for the briefest moment, lifting her head to meet your gaze. Her eyes are soft, filled with warmth and a quiet intensity that steals your breath anew. “More?” she repeats gently, her fingers brushing against your cheek. “Show me what you mean.”

Your hand trembles as you guide her, positioning her fingers so they’re at your entrance. She watches you carefully, her gaze steady and unyielding, and when she pushes them in, the effect is immediate. Your body jerks, a moan spilling from your lips that you can’t hold back. Her smile widens, a slow, wicked curve that sends a fresh wave of heat coursing through you.

“Like this?” she asks, her tone low and smoky as she begins to move with a new purpose.

“Yes,” you gasp, your hands clutching at her, pulling her closer. “Exactly like that.”

Her mouth finds yours again, capturing your gasps and moans as her rhythm intensifies, driving you higher and higher. All thoughts of your ex, of hesitation and doubt, dissolve under the force of her touch, replaced by nothing but sensation and the raw, undeniable connection between you.

Agatha’s fingers curl a couple of inches in, pressing firmly in a way that makes you see stars. She strokes you deliberately, her fingers slipping deeper, dragging over that spot with precision. Each thrust makes you gasp, the slick heat of her movements leaving no doubt as to how much she’s undoing you.

Your back arches, a broken cry escaping your lips as your body clenches around her. She doesn’t stop; if anything, the precision of her touch sharpens, the rhythm of her movements intensifying.

“You’ve never had this, have you?” She taunts gently, her fingers curling harder. “Someone who knows exactly what you need.”

Her free hand braces against the desk, holding you in place as her other works relentlessly, her fingers stroking that spot with devastating accuracy. The pressure builds with each thrust, a relentless wave climbing higher and higher. Agatha’s movements become faster and harder, her palm pressing against your clit in just the right way, amplifying the delicious friction. 

Each thrust of her hand makes the desk creak beneath you, the rhythmic scrape of its legs against the floor a staccato beat in time with the growing tension coiling deep within you. The wet, rhythmic sound of her fingers fills the room, mixing with your ragged breaths. It’s messy, overwhelming, and utterly obscene, and it drives her to press even harder.

The coil tightens, winding impossibly taut, and then—like a thread pulled too tight—it snaps. Your orgasm crashes over you, white-hot and all-consuming, stealing the air from your lungs. You cry out her name, your hands clutching desperately at her, your nails digging into her shoulders as you ride out the waves of pleasure that ripple through you, each one stronger than the last.

“You’re doing so good,” she growls, her smirk widening. “Let me hear you. I want everyone in this bar to know who’s making you feel like this."

Your body trembles uncontrollably, your thighs quaking against her as she works you through the aftershocks. Her lips hover at the curve of your neck, planting soft, grounding kisses. When she speaks, her voice is low, thick with awe.

“Perfect,” she hums, her breath hot against your ear. “Every inch of you.”

Her words send a shiver through you, warmth pooling in your chest even as your limbs remain boneless and spent. You’re panting, your breaths coming in ragged gasps as you cling to her. The heat of her body pressed against yours is grounding, her hand still resting against your waist as her lips trail along your jaw in languid, soothing caresses.

Finally, she eases back just enough to look at you, her thumb brushing over your cheek. Her eyes search yours, and what you find there—a mix of tenderness and pride—makes your chest ache in the best way.

“You okay?” She asks, her voice low, the edge of it rough with lingering desire.

You nod, still catching your breath, and a small smile curls at her lips, warm and genuine. She leans in, brushing her lips gently against your temple before pulling you into her arms. Her next words make your chest tighten in the best way.

“Whoever let you go,” she murmurs, her thumb grazing your cheek with infinite care, “was a fool.”

-----

I had to pull on every 'cares for another person' Agatha moment to write this and there wasn't a lot to go on 😂

-----

Taglist: @aceday @danveration @alwaysharmony @idkwhatever580 @lostbutlovely33 (let me know if you want to be added)

[lotties-ashwagandha]

UNQUALIFIED

rio vidal x reader x agatha harkness

you question death's favoritism. waking up in bed with them, kissing but not particularly NSFW, i wanted to write a smut fic but my asexuality stopped it at fluffy kissing and generally poetic vibes. 809 words.

You are no witch. You walk at the edge of death not by your own force but by the grace gifted to you – it is not within your power to protect, or to divine, or to guide to the soil those souls that have grown beyond this world and are ready for the next. You are, in every sense, helpless to the favors of life and death. 

Yet as you walk with death, as you share a bed with her night by night, you are not stricken with fear at the prospect of what awaits you in the beyond. You know she will protect you, death will guide you into her home with the same generosity that you have led her into yours. 

Over the centuries you have asked death why she has kept from taking you for so long – in those moments she would grow pensive, avoiding your gaze, not offering a response until you asked her again. 

Always, Rio would respond in the same way. “You’re not ready for death.” 

In illness, you would ask more eagerly. You would question her on if it was finally time for you, and again she would deny you – though there were times when she would falter, when she did not seem so sure of her own jurisdiction. “You have more to do here.” 

Now as you lay in the light of a new morning, golden light leaking in through the gaps in the curtains of the cottage you have bought in the woods for the three of you, death awakens at your side. You feel the depth of her breath change as she does, you are wrapped in her arms with your head resting in the crook of her neck and an arm thrown over her abdomen. 

Mindlessly, one of Rio’s hands finds your hair, running through its morning tangles. You feel yourself sinking into her – into death, yet instead of finding rest in a bed of soil you are wrapped in silk and sunlight. You have come to understand that through and through you reside in her favor, yet one thing you do not understand. 

“If I died, you would still have access to me,” you whisper so as not to wake Agatha, who rests on your other side. “You cut through worlds, you are able to go in and out.” 

Rio sighs. You don’t have to see her face to imagine her exhaustion at your persistent questioning, the closing of her eyes for a moment as she considers a response. “It’s early. You shouldn’t be thinking about this.” 

“About my fortuitous immortality?” 

Rio shakes her head. She takes care this time to formulate a satisfactory answer. “If you were to die, I would still have access to you, but I would never be able to hold you. You are unqualified for death.” 

“Unqualified?” 

She shifts to straddle you, looking down at you with a crooked grin. One of her hands trails down your neck to your collarbones as she speaks. “If you were dead I would have your soul. I would keep it.” 

She leans down to kiss you, and before she does: “I wouldn’t be able to do this.” 

The kiss is gentle, both of you still subdued by your exhaustion. You are hardly awake, but still you are able to feel the love in her touch, given to you in the growing hunger of her kiss and her wandering touch. She parts from you to kiss down your bare neck and chest – though abruptly she is shoved off of you, pushed away to lay at your side. 

You hadn’t realized Agatha was awake, had not noticed her stirring beside you, but now as she takes Rio’s place you feel a new craving coming alive within you. She is more rough as she touches you, hands falling immediately to grab at your chest and the kiss she pulls you into putting you at risk of gentle nips and the dominance of her tongue against yours. 

“Rio breaks the rules,” Agatha says, pulling back for a moment and sparing a glance at Rio beside you. “We are her favorites, she just doesn’t like to put it that way. She’s too just.”

Rio rolls her eyes, as if she were far from just, though you know it to be true. Through the years she has educated you on the balance she keeps, the fine working of souls. 

Straddling you as Rio had been, Agatha reaches out for Rio to kiss her. Death tilts her head, a mischievous glint in her eyes. “Careful, kissing death doesn’t always work out for covenless witches.” 

Agatha takes no care to follow her warning. Eagerly she pulls Rio to kiss her, the same desire burning between them that has lasted centuries, that you have witnessed from the beginning and will witness until the end. 

[covenofagatha]

A dance with death (and her wife) (Part 6)

You go to confront The Witch and Lady Death

Word count: 3900

Warnings: smut, fingering, more murder

You try to call Tony on the way over, but his number isn’t there. You scroll through your text messages, his thread isn’t there either. You try recent calls. Nope. 

It’s like he’s been entirely erased from your phone. 

You’re getting frantic, desperate, and you know that you can’t exactly look up the personal phone number for the director of an FBI branch, so on a complete whim, you check your blocked contacts. 

Fucking Rio. 

She must’ve gotten into your phone when she came by to get your clothes that night and made sure there was no way you could reach your life outside of Westview. No way you could get help. 

Fingers gripped around the blade of the knife, you’re about to leave the room when your phone lights up with a call. Tony. You scoff, decline it, and block him. You don’t have time for that. 

Grimacing, you massage the area between your eyes. You’ve made a huge mess of everything. 

You unblock him and call him and he picks up on the first ring. 

“Y/N, where the hell have you been?” He barks and you wince at his scolding tone. 

“Things here have…developed,” you start, weighing how much you should tell him. 

He scoffs. “None of my calls or texts have gone through. I thought you were dead!” You try to say something but he barrels over you. “I’m on my way to Westview right now. I’m supposed to land in about an hour. I don’t know what’s going on there, but I’m bringing you back to Miami.” 

“No!” You cry out. He can’t. “Please, Director, I’m so close, I’m about to get them right now. I know who they are and where they are, I’m on my way.”

You can hear his sharp intake of breath when he realizes what you’re about to do. “Agent, stand down. That is a direct order. You are not to engage with them.” 

A blush spreads through your body as you remember just how much you’ve engaged with them. 

“It’ll be fine,” you assure him. “They don’t want me dead.” 

The sound of him hitting the tray table on the jet reverberates through your phone and you almost jump. “Dammit, Y/N, this isn’t a game! This is life or death, and you are not to try and get them all by yourself. Turn around from wherever you are and go back to your motel and do not leave until I get there!” You’ve never heard him this mad. 

But you can’t. You’ve come too far to let them slip away like this. You have your gun and maybe the element of surprise on your side. You have the power to end this tonight. 

Tony’s still ranting about how irresponsible and impulsive and stupid you’re being, so you hang up. The call ironically disconnects in the middle of him saying how you never listen to anything he says. 

You’re more convinced than ever that Agatha and Rio did something in the woods that day that fucked you up beyond measure. 

And who was that other woman? 

Somehow, after all of that, you had ended up in the hospital with hypothermia and pneumonia, and the post-traumatic and retrograde amnesia accounts for the block in your mind. Did you hit your head on something? 

Or did someone hit you on the head with something? 

Agatha and Rio and the mystery woman had been so shocked and afraid when you came across them doing something bad that they had clobbered you in the hopes that you would forget, or die? 

It’s plausible. 

If nothing else, you need answers before you kill them tonight. Maybe knowing what they did will give you some semblance of peace and you can sleep without fearing that you’re going to murder innocent people. 

It can hopefully get rid of your headaches, at the very least. 

When you get to the address left on the note, Agatha’s car is already parked out front. You breathe a sigh of relief and the tension in your shoulders you didn’t know you were carrying seeps out. They’re here. They didn’t send you on a wild goose chase. 

Your heart is beating so fast you think it might fly right out of your chest and you try to slow down your breathing before entering the viper’s nest. 

There’s no telling what you might find in there, or what tricks they have up their sleeves, so you want to be mentally prepared. 

When your breaths are finally under control, you get out of the car and immediately slip on ice. You crash down to the pavement with a thud and you struggle to get your bearings and 

Snow. 

Clearing in the woods. 

The woman beckons you forward and you find her with two other women. Out of the three, there’s two brunettes and one with gray hair. The gray-haired one looks older, lines prominent on her angry face. She’s standing against a tree.

The two brunettes smile. 

When you get closer, you can see that the gray-haired lady is standing in the middle of a big mound of sticks and branches. 

Why doesn’t she just move? 

The cold ground bleeds through your pants and brings you back to reality. The big mound of sticks and branches coupled with the fire you started seeing…was she on a pyre? 

One thing at a time, you remind yourself, pushing yourself up with the help of the car next to you. 

You silently slink up to the front door. It’s slightly open. You pause and press your ear to the wood, listening for anything that might indicate a struggle happening. 

Nothing. 

You push it all the way open and carefully step inside, wincing when the floorboard creaks under your foot. It’s so silent in the front corridor of the house that you think you can hear your blood rushing under your skin. 

There’s flickering light coming from the living room and you make your way in that direction when you hear something. You strain your ears and stop against the wall to try and discern what it is – is that a smacking noise? 

Are they kissing? 

You dare to peek around the corner and yes, not really to your surprise, Agatha and Rio are making out amidst a crime scene.

 A dagger sits on the kitchen table next to a plate of the same cookies from their house, two purple azaleas, and two containers. 

Two people, a man and a woman, are laying on the ground gasping for air. Their skin is getting tighter, shriveling, lines etching into their face as their cheeks hollow out. 

Their chests are still intact though. Maybe they haven’t gotten to that step yet? Clearly Agatha and Rio have been sidetracked.

You should go help them. You should go in there and save their lives, you should stop The Witch and Lady Death. Why do you feel so hot? You must have a fever, there’s no reason your body should be this warm.

But then you look in their direction and you’re enraptured, all other thoughts leaving your head.

The skeleton mask is thrown on the floor and the glow of the fireplace lights up Agatha and Rio trying to devour each other’s mouths. 

A flush of heat stutters through your body as Rio reaches her arms around Agatha’s neck and tries to pull her even closer. Agatha’s hands are clasped on her wife’s cheeks and you can see her tongue sliding into Rio’s mouth. The electricity under your skin is back, roaring to life, while your eyes move from the people on the floor, taking their last breaths, to Agatha and Rio, still kissing like their lives depend on it, to the 

Snow. 

The clearing. 

The sound of a match striking against the matchbox. 

You watch it fall, almost as if in slow motion. 

A brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

Agatha’s foot squeaks on the floor as she walks Rio backwards, mouth never leaving hers. Your fingers tighten around the gun so hard you think you might snap them. You should shoot them. You should shoot them both right here, right now. 

But you can’t move. 

You’re stuck, rooted to the same spot around the corner, watching as Agatha’s lips trail down Rio’s neck. The younger woman’s head drops back to give her wife more room and you can almost feel the pleasure she does. 

“Agatha,” Rio whines and you never thought you would hear her beg. But the mighty therapist, the same woman who poisoned you after eating you out on your couch, is reduced to holding her wife’s hair so she doesn’t move away. 

Your breath comes out in sync with Rio’s, like you’re imagining that you’re her instead of you, that you have Agatha pressed up against you instead of being pressed against a wall. 

Rio’s fingers dig into Agatha’s thick locks and she switches positions, whirling Agatha around, and she takes control of the kiss. Your eyes are wide, rapt with attention, not daring to look away as Rio moves down to Agatha’s chest and rips her flannel open, revealing her pale chest and lacy black bra. 

Your mouth waters and the ache, the same one you felt in the woods and in your motel room, the same one you feel whenever you’re around them, floods through you, settling right between your legs. 

Rio nips at Agatha’s breast over the fabric, mouthing at her nipple, and you would kill to be with them. Agatha is watching her fondly, with heat in her eyes, and you think Rio must be looking up at her. 

Now would be the perfect time to shoot, so why can’t you move?

Because you like this too much, your body answers for you. You have to tug at the neckline of your sweater as you feel too hot. 

Rio kneels down, hands sliding up and down Agatha’s thighs while she sucks on the smooth expanse of her wife’s stomach. Your body is swimming with desire, it’s dizzying almost, and you think you need to cum soon or you might die. 

Agatha gasps when Rio sinks her teeth into her skin roughly and then soothes the spot with her tongue. She reaches up, moves Agatha’s hair out of the way, and unclasps her bra and you feel a guttural moan form in your throat. You have to bite your lip hard so it doesn’t escape. 

The pale skin of her chest is flushed red and there’s a slight sheen of sweat on her clavicle. Her nipples are a dusky rose color, pebbled and hard, and you want them in your mouth so fucking bad. 

Rio surges up to do exactly that, tugging on them with her teeth, and Agatha groans, eyes fluttering shut. 

Your brain finally forgets about shooting them, forgets about the fact that they’re serial killers at all, and you do possibly the stupidest thing you’ve ever done in your entire life. 

You put the gun into the waistband of your pants and you step out from behind the corner. 

Agatha’s eyes fasten on to you immediately, but instead of looking surprised, she looks impatient. Like you should’ve been here thirty minutes ago. 

���There’s our superstar,” she drawls, hands tangling in Rio’s hair, forcing her still. “What took you so long?” 

You try to think of something to say, anything at all, perhaps a remark about how you caught them, when Rio rakes her eyes up and down your body and chuckles. “Look at her, Aggie. She didn’t just get here. She’s been watching.” 

Agatha smirks in agreement. “I wonder what got her more hot and bothered, watching us” She nods to the surely dead couple on the ground. “-or watching them die.” 

“You two are crazy,” you say, willing your hand to grab your gun, but it doesn’t obey. The heat in your voice betrays you, though. 

Rio simpers, advancing toward you with Agatha in tow. You clench your teeth as they start circling you like sharks. “Want to know how we do it?” Rio purrs into your ear and you shudder. 

“No,” you spit out, trying desperately hard to keep your eyes from darting down to Agatha’s breasts. She’s made no move to cover up. Her nipples are still hard.

“First,” the detective starts. “We lace the cookies with a delicate mix of hydrofluoric acid, acetone, isopropyl, and a few other things meant to just confuse test results. It slowly decomposes their body from the inside out and they’re dead within minutes.” 

Rio moves your hair out of the way to press kisses to your neck and it sends goosebumps down your spine. 

“And then,” Rio says right against your skin while Agatha’s hand slithers from your waist to your stomach up to around your throat. You can feel your pulse throb against her fingers. “I take my knife and carve out their hearts. The first cut is always the sweetest. After that, we use bleach to wash it away and hydrogen peroxide to eat away anything we left: blood, fingerprints, DNA.” 

“Voila,” Agatha says, snapping her fingers that aren’t around your throat. You hate how wet you can feel yourself getting. “That’s how you get away with murder.” 

Rio’s hands are on your hips now, squeezing in time with the hand on your throat. Your airway is constricted, you know you should be scared, but you meet Agatha’s blown-out pupils and are sure yours look the exact same. 

The therapist finds your gun and disarms you. “Or in your case,” she says right into your ear, jabbing the muzzle into your back. “You just lure them into the woods while you’re unconscious and slit their femoral arteries.” 

All the air leaves your lungs, both from their proximity and your own weapon being used against you. 

“Get on your knees,” Agatha orders, letting go of your throat so you can immediately drop down. 

Your knees hit the ground hard, but you barely even register the pain, looking up at them eagerly to await what’s next. 

Rio slowly walks around until she’s standing next to Agatha and tucks the gun under your chin, forcing it up even more. “Look at how much she’s getting off on this,” she says in a hushed voice. The air between the three of you is thick with tension, the dead bodies only a few yards away completely forgotten. 

“You’re capable of so much more than just being a profiler,” Agatha says wistfully, stroking your hair with some sort of affection. “You can be so much more.” 

Snow. 

The match drops.

Fire. 

The gray-haired lady screams. 

You’re running through the woods. Are you being chased? 

There’s a crack as your head hits the ground.

“What did you do to me?” You ask, voice breaking. “What did you do to that woman?” 

Rio drags the gun up the side of your face, traces your cheekbones, and then presses it to your lips. Instinctively, your tongue darts out to flick at the cold metal, and both their eyes flash. “You still don’t remember everything?” Rio asks. 

“I remember that you killed her, and it fucked me up,” you tell them, voice level as it’s finally making sense to you. “I found you two in the woods. You burned her, and then what? You tried to kill the ten year old who saw it? And this is — what? Your way of finally tying up all those loose ends?” 

Agatha snorts and Rio scoffs. 

“Look at our superstar, thinking she knows everything. We don’t want to kill you,” Agatha says, rolling her eyes. Rio takes the gun away from your mouth and tosses it onto the couch. 

Your gaze flicks between them, not sure who to look at. “What do you want then?” 

Agatha winds her fingers through your hair and yanks you off your knees, dragging you in for a kiss, biting your bottom lip hard. A metallic taste fills your mouth and it only makes you hungrier, so you open your mouth and shove your tongue into her hot and waiting mouth. 

You feel Rio’s body pressing against your back and her hand delves under your waistband to cup you over your soaking underwear. Your hips involuntarily jolt at the contact and you moan, but it’s swallowed up by Agatha’s lips. 

The detective pulls your shirt over your head as Rio pushes your underwear to the side and lazily spreads your wetness around your cunt. 

There’s a tugging in your gut, a burning, aching, guttural tugging that is going to be the death of you. Electricity skates through your veins, lighting up your blood and setting it to a boil. 

You’ve never felt so hot in your life. 

Agatha’s lips on your neck do little to quench your thirst for more and Rio shoves two fingers into you with no warning and a gasp tears its way out of you. Agatha bites on your collarbone as Rio twists her fingers and you groan loudly. 

“She loves this, Rio,” Agatha says like you aren’t even there. Rio whimpers and curls her fingers, her other hand snaking around to grab Agatha’s throat. The older woman’s breath hitches as she kisses along your bra, tasting the perspiration on your cleavage. 

Rio’s fingers inside you and Agatha’s mouth now sucking on your nipples, having pushed your bra down, somehow isn’t enough. 

You need to feel them. 

Your hands find Agatha’s breasts, kneading them and pulling on her nipples. She makes a noise against your skin and it only sears you more. You slide your fingers down her stomach, over the red marks from Rio’s mouth, and dip them into her pants. 

She’s just as wet as you are, and you gingerly rub her clit, gathering wetness from her entrance and bringing it back up to swirl at her. She pants hotly against your skin and you can feel her hand creep behind you to Rio, who has set a slow pace inside you. 

“Aggie,” Rio breathes and bites down onto the back of your shoulder. Agatha chuckles breathlessly and you’re able to twist your head just enough to see Agatha’s hands down the therapist’s pants too. 

It makes you clench around Rio’s fingers. You’re all being fucked, and fucking someone, and you can feel Agatha’s wetness the same way Rio is feeling yours, the same way Agatha is feeling her wife’s. 

You slide your middle finger into Agatha, groaning when her walls flutter around you. Rio squeezes a third finger into you and you keen at the stretch, but then she starts fucking roughly and it’s everything you need and more. 

Her thumb swipes at your clit and you try to time your thrusts into Agatha with Rio’s into you. 

Rio’s teeth find your shoulder blade again and dig in, and the pain just makes your body feel even more alive. 

You’ve never felt like this before. The intensity is tenfold what anyone else has ever given you. 

Your ring finger joins your middle and Agatha nips at the curvature of your breasts. Your free hand palms hers and you roll her nipple, enjoying the way she gets tighter around you. Rio plays with her wife’s other boob, and you don’t think you could move a muscle either way because the two women are wrapped so firmly around your body, holding you in place in the middle. 

But that’s nothing new. You’ve been intertwined with them since you’ve gotten here, maybe even almost your whole life. 

Agatha’s lips capture yours and you can feel her muscles in her arm strain against your bicep. You curl your fingers and find the spongy spot that pulls a resounding gasp from her mouth right into yours. Rio pauses, pulls out, and when she presses back at your entrance, your head almost falls back when you feel four fingers posed. 

The detective seems to know because she chuckles against your lips, sucks on your tongue. 

And then she pulls away as Rio plunges four fingers into you, the stretch burning. But the pain gives way to even more pleasure and when she twists them upward, you almost cum. 

“I’m so close,” you moan and Agatha leans behind you and out of the corner of your eye, you see her kissing Rio. And then Rio pulls your head back by your hair and her mouth is on yours and then there’s a flurry of tongue and teeth and lips and you don’t even know who you’re kissing but it’s someone and it’s so good and you’re about to —

— Rio’s fingers stop inside you and you whine, frantically rolling your hips. Your fingers are still pumping at a steady rhythm inside Agatha and you can feel by the movement in her arm that she’s still fucking Rio. 

“Why did you become a profiler?” Rio asks into your ear. “Tell us and we’ll let you cum.” Her thumb brushes against your clit and you’re so sensitive, you think you might be able to cum anyways with that and the fullness. 

“You guys…you killed her so I wanted to know why you did, how you could,” you choke out and Agatha peppers kisses all over your chest. The livewire in your body is about to snap. 

Rio gives you one harsh thrust and you almost sob. “Try again,” she orders. 

Tears prick in your eyes and your fingers falter inside Agatha. You can hear Rio’s breaths becoming shorter and shallower, indicating how close she is. Agatha’s eyes dart from your dark pupils to your swollen lips. She’s still holding onto her composure, better than you and her wife are at least, but you can tell she’s on the edge. 

“I don’t know,” you say, but is that the truth? 

The thrumming in your head comes back, like a memory knocking on your brain, asking to be let in. 

You give in. 

Snow. 

The clearing. 

The three women: two brunettes and one with gray hair.

You can now see that the gray-haired lady is tied to the tree.

The sound of a match on the matchbox. 

The match is flicked onto the sticks by someone, igniting the stake and a brilliant blaze of fire erupts. 

Who set the fire?

Your eyes snap open, the entire block in your mind gone and the memories flood through your head. 

“I wanted to understand why I did it,” you gasp and you know that you finally got it right when Rio starts fucking you with a renowned vigor. 

It takes no time at all before you cum explosively all over her hand and the two of them follow shortly after. The feeling of Agatha orgasming around your hand triggers another one in you and you cling to both of them while you come down from the most intense high of your life. 

They soothe you, whisper sweet nothings, press kisses all over your face, and you wince when Rio pulls her four fingers out of you, the emptiness filling you. 

You start to shake and you don’t realize you’re sobbing until they’re kissing your lips and you can taste the saltiness from your cheeks. 

“It’s okay, baby girl,” Agatha says, and they wrap their arms around you, holding you and letting you cry. “We got you. We’re not letting you go.” 

You sniff and lean into their embrace, feeling whole for the first time in your life. 

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 4

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

it's still agatha and her river

mama, I'm sorry I got upset. mama I'm sorry we're both starving tonight. I promise I'll do better tomorrow.

a six year old taking responsibility and apologizing for his mother's shortcomings.

agatha looks down at her precious little boy's pleading face

and she smiles at him, and nicky gives her a big relieved grin.

evanora is not stealing this moment. she did her worst to fuck with agatha's brain chemistry, but in one fundamental thing she failed: agatha is capable of loving her kid. despite all her other shortcomings, she will never blame nicky for her own faults.

she does a cute little dance for him, and this is what they do, isn't it? he's too small to explain his big feelings and she is too scared, and so they sing to each other and hope the love is understood anyway.

see how he touches the brooch? if only she could have loved nicky in vacuum, without any of the emotional baggage. but he is only the last link in a long chain of witches, pain and and tears and blood that made him what he is. agatha cannot escape her identity and legacy no matter how much she tries, and she couldn't protect nicky from it either.

the last time she sees nicky alive he's smiling adoringly at her. this is the boy she can't face in the afterlife, because her own guilt is so strong she's convinced he will hate her.

nicky dies peacefully in his mother's arms. his soul wakes up and sees rio waiting for him.

that some good cinema dear lord

rio waves at nicky. he doesn't know her (when who will return?) but he still trusts her implicity - she's been around him his whole short life, in the woods, in the water, in his lungs.

and - the bit that destroyed us all - rio makes nicky go to agatha one last time. go kiss your mama goodbye.

light and dark, growth and decay, here and beyond.

remember when alice died and the camera turned upside down? it stops halfway here. agatha has been affected so profoundly by nicky's death that she can never let herself go back to the land of the living, but she's also too scared to follow rio to the other side. she's stuck in the middle, consumed by the impossible dream of bringing nicky back, never allowing herself to find peace and companionship again. in love with death, but running away from it.

(people never seem to make crack and humor vids for episode 9, isn't that curious? when it's soooo fun and lighthearted!)

well ain't that just brutal

I have always known

This Road is cruel and wild

I bury my own heart

Here with you, my child

(I think those are lavender flowers? I'm not 100% sure)

coolcoolcoolcoolcool. that's fine. I'm absolutely fine.

BARRIERS UP right away. even if she looks like a mess. especially because she looks like a mess. she's not showing weakness in front of anyone, she's protecting her grief like a jealous goblin, and since she cannot run, she straightens her dress and gets ready to fight. the option to ask for help and comfort doesn't even cross her mind.

her eyes still full of tears / agatha gets another wonderful, awful idea.

we've seen this so many times, haven't we? the real agatha disappears behind the character she plays. the agatha we've seen from the very start, since the moment she walked into wanda's living room, has been a lie. very few people have ever seen a hint of the poor bruised heart she hides inside, and only to rio and (to some extent) nicky she has ever opened up.

how can someone go from total heartbreak to planning murder in the span of two minutes? well, you can if you are agatha harkness and have never learned one healthy coping mechanism in your life. and I'm sure she's already rationalizing it as something like "if I get powerful enough I can bring nicky back." but the truth is, she just wants to get drunk on magic and murder and stop feeling so horrible. she's running away, like usual. she's planning to kill witches in front of the grave of the very kid who begged her not to, and she's using his song to do it. as if that's not gonna haunt her or anything.

(it really gets me how agatha's smiles are so different from kathryn's. agatha never smiles with her eyes, except when she's with nicky.)

agatha's diabolical scam is so stupid if you think about, definitely worthy of the clown she has become. just pretend the Road didn't open and then annoy people into attacking you! better than using a literal child as bait, I guess.

here she absorbs a yellow coven, and yep, it does look like covens are all supposed to be the same color?

the bodies from the agnes of westview opening.

orange coven in the late 1800s. I really like that dress and hat on her

blue coven in the 1920s, and another cunty outfit

I know you guys like the 90s look, but it makes me laugh how hard she was trying for that Craft vibe. and we don't see the beams color here.

and finally, our girls. (I miss you all so muchhhhh)

what do you know! looks like a door has appeared! (sharonnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnnn!!!!!)

from fuck has my karma caught up with me to well well well, looks like we have another little maximoff on our hands

and speaking of little maximoffs and giant assholes...

go to episode 9 part 5

[chaoticly-shy-dragon]

Wait but waittttt. She going through the woods alone means she is getting practical knowledge from nowhere - she is winging it and finding everything by trial and error - if she gets administrated into the school she would crush it in Surviving Fairytales.

But! More importantly! She gets to make acquaintances along the way. I really want her to vibe with some random witch... or a man-wolf. Or a deer. I dunno - she thinks she is hallucinating because she kinda understands the animals? And ooh! The wish-granting debacle.

How far away is the school from Galvadon? How quick are the... bone-birds?? (sorry, forgot the spelling and the name) Does Agatha get lost? How long does it take her to reach the school?

@pumpkinpaperweight had a dream and now im suffering with brainrot. The "only sophie got taken so agatha went after her" post, and im not ok, im not ok. I have this plot in my head now, ideas and dialouges, but will i actually do it? idk so here's a couple sketches i did, what i imagined what happens at the aftermath of the kidnapping

aaaarrghh i want this to be a full blown au so bad you have no idea i am not okkk aaaaaaaahh

[qianzhangs]

Chapters: 1/? Fandom: The School for Good and Evil - Soman Chainani, The School for Good and Evil (2022) Rating: Teen And Up Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Agatha & August Sader, Callis & August Sader, Agatha & Callis (The School for Good and Evil) Characters: August Sader, Agatha (The School for Good and Evil), Callis (The School for Good and Evil) Additional Tags: Alternate Universe, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Alternate Universe - Canon, Wishes, Resurrection, Temporary Character Death, Found Family, Mentors, Fix-It of Sorts, lore heavy and professor gen even heavier Summary: Please tell me what to do. Please tell me what comes next. Ever After or not. Agatha wishes August Sader back to life. This is not how the story was supposed to go. This is the first semblance of choice that any of them will learn to have. It will not be the last.

(or: august sader lives, and a seer who cannot see is not bound by the rules.)

[galaxysupreme17]

Mother's Instinct

Y/n = Your Name

AgathaRio x daughter!reader

Westview had always been a place of quiet, tucked between sprawling woods and serene skies. But this morning, Agatha felt a shift in the air. It was subtle, a stirring beneath the usual hum of life—a cold, prickling sense that seeped through the town. Agatha knew her magic well and knew the shape and rhythm of Westview’s energy, but this was a twisted, foreign presence, like a shadow looming just out of sight.

Agatha stood by the kitchen window, her fingers wrapped tightly around her mug of tea. The morning sunlight spilled through the glass, warming her face, but she couldn’t shake the chill in her bones.

Behind her, soft footsteps padded into the room. “Cariño?” Rio’s voice was low and careful, but there was an edge to it, a shared unease. She came up behind her wife, slipping her arms around Agatha’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder. “You feel it too, don’t you?”

Agatha nodded, her gaze fixed outside. “There’s something out there,” she murmured, her voice taut with worry. “It’s magic—but darker, twisted in a way I haven’t sensed before.”

Rio pressed her cheek to Agatha’s shoulder, letting the steady heartbeat beneath her ear calm her own nerves. “Do we need to tell Y/n?” she asked softly.

Before Agatha could respond, Y/n came bounding into the kitchen. She had that gleam of excitement in her eyes, the one she always wore at the promise of a new adventure. She came up beside them, barely able to contain herself. “Mom, I felt something, too! There’s something in Westview, and it’s close!” Her words tumbled out, barely giving her mothers a chance to respond.

Agatha and Rio shared a look. Y/n’s eagerness was familiar; Agatha had felt that same thrill of discovery in her youth. But this was different, and she wanted to protect her daughter from its reach.

“Y/n, listen,” Agatha began, her tone gentle but firm. “Whatever’s out there, it isn’t a simple magical anomaly. This is dark magic, the kind that lingers.”

Y/n’s excitement dimmed slightly, but her resolve only seemed to deepen. “I know, Mom. But I can help! I’m not the same kid you had to protect from every spell gone wrong. I’ve been training. I can handle this.”

Agatha sighed, glancing at Rio. Her own protective instincts flared, but Rio’s expression softened, nodding in agreement with Agatha. They knew how capable Y/n had become, yet nothing could override their need to shield her from harm.

“We trust you, Y/n. But a mother’s instinct is a powerful thing,” Rio said, her voice warm but unyielding. “And right now, ours are telling us this is not something you should face.”

Y/n looked at her moms, reading the determination in their eyes. She wanted to argue, to push her way into the fight that awaited, but the fierce protectiveness she saw made her pause. Her moms were more than just powerful witches—they were warriors, protectors, and the cornerstones of her world. As much as she wanted to prove herself, she couldn’t bring herself to push them any further.

“Fine,” she muttered, crossing her arms. “But you have to let me help if things get bad.”

Agatha smiled, placing a gentle hand on her daughter’s cheek. “Deal.”

As evening fell, Westview’s quiet streets darkened, the town’s edges sinking into shadow as the sun disappeared beyond the trees. Agatha and Rio moved swiftly, their expressions sharp and determined, and every sense heightened as they approached the woods where the disturbance was strongest.

Y/n watched them from the edge of the yard, her heart pounding with a mix of pride and worry. She could see the fierce protectiveness in her mother’s eyes, and despite her frustration, she knew they were right to be cautious.

“Stay here,” Agatha had instructed her before they left, and though every fiber of her being wanted to join them, Y/n held her ground, watching as they ventured deeper into the trees.

The woods at the edge of town were dark, cloaked in a mist that clung to the trees like a shroud. Agatha and Rio moved through it silently, the pulse of their combined magic lighting their path, a steady glow in the dim, eerie darkness.

They felt it at the heart of the woods—the source of the disturbance, pulsing with dark energy. The shadows seemed to thicken around them, forming into a towering, amorphous figure that shimmered and shifted with a life of its own. The air was cold and biting as if drained of all warmth.

Agatha held up a hand, creating a protective barrier between them and the entity. “Who are you?” she demanded, her voice cutting through the silence.

The figure didn’t respond, but the dark energy radiating from it grew sharper, colder. It shifted, coiling like smoke, a twisted sneer forming where its face might have been.

Rio stepped forward, her expression hardening. “You’ve trespassed in our home,” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “Whatever you are, you aren’t welcome here.”

She raised her hand with a swift, precise motion, sending a wave of magic crashing into the figure. The wave collided with the shadowy form, briefly dispersing it, but it quickly reformed, surging forward with a force that sent a shudder through the air.

Agatha joined her, her own magic flaring to life, weaving seamlessly with Rio’s as they pushed back against the dark energy. Their combined power illuminated the clearing, a dazzling display of light against the encroaching darkness.

But the entity was relentless. Its gaze shifted, sensing a different source of magic on the edge of the clearing—Y/n. In an instant, a tendril of dark energy shot out, aimed directly at her.

Agatha’s heart dropped as she sensed the attack, moving before she could think. She hurled herself in front of the dark blast, her body absorbing the force meant for her daughter. The magic hit her like a wave, knocking her to the ground, the impact draining her energy and weakening her.

“Mama!” Y/n’s voice rang out, breaking the stillness as she darted into the clearing, her eyes wide with horror as she saw Agatha on the ground.

Agatha lifted a trembling hand, her face pale as she forced out, “Y/n, stay back! Don’t—come… closer.”

Y/n stopped, torn between obeying her mother’s words and rushing forward to help. Her fists clenched, and she willed herself to stay where she was, her heart pounding in her chest.

Seeing Agatha hurt sent a jolt of raw fury through Rio. Her expression hardened, her jaw clenching as her magic pulsed, swelling with a fierce, protective power. She turned back toward the shadowy figure, her entire body vibrating angrily.

“How dare you to touch her,” Rio growled, her voice deadly calm yet brimming with barely contained fury. She unleashed a wave of crackling blue magic that burst forward, slamming into the entity with a force that shook the ground beneath them. The dark figure twisted, convulsed, and then shattered under the weight of Rio’s power, dissipating into thin wisps of shadow that faded into the night.

Only silence remained, the oppressive darkness of the woods lifting as the last of the entity’s energy faded away.

Rio spun around, her magic still radiating from her in waves as she rushed over to Agatha. She knelt by her wife, her hands trembling as she placed them on Agatha’s shoulders, checking her over with a worried, frantic gaze.

“Mi Amor, are you alright?” Rio’s voice was thick with worry, her earlier fury melting into concern as she examined her wife.

Agatha offered a weak smile, wincing slightly as she lifted herself up. “I’m fine. A little roughed up, but I’ve been through worse.”

Y/n, unable to hold back any longer, rushed forward and joined them, kneeling beside her mothers. She placed a gentle hand on Agatha’s arm, relief flooding her features. “Mama, are you sure you’re okay?”

Agatha nodded, reaching out to tuck a strand of Y/n’s hair behind her ear. “I’m okay, baby. Your mom took care of it.”

Rio softened, her fierce expression giving way to a loving smile as she glanced between her wife and daughter. She wrapped her arms around them both, pulling them close. “I’d face a thousand threats to keep you both safe,” she murmured, her voice a promise. Rio stood and helped Agatha up off the ground. 

The adrenaline from the battle had begun to wear off, leaving Agatha feeling the full weight of the magic she’d used—and the hit she’d taken. Rio’s arm was steady around her waist as they made their way back through the woods, the familiar path to their home bringing a much-needed sense of comfort.

“Lean on me, Mi Amor,” Rio whispered softly, her tone soothing as she guided her wife over the uneven ground. “Almost there.”

Agatha managed a smile, though her legs felt heavy, and her magic reserves were nearly drained. “I should be saying that to you, you know,” she murmured, her fingers brushing over Rio’s hand.

“Tonight, I’m the muscle,” Rio said with a small smirk, giving Agatha’s waist a gentle squeeze. “You just focus on putting one foot in front of the other.”

Y/n trailed close behind them, her eyes fixed on Agatha with concern. She’d never seen her mama look so worn, but watching the quiet strength Rio showed in helping her had softened the earlier anxiety. By the time they reached the house, Y/n was right at her mother’s side, gently helping her up the steps and into the cozy warmth of their home.

Once inside, Rio helped Agatha to the bedroom, easing her onto the bed. “Rest,” she whispered, pressing a kiss to Agatha’s forehead. “I’ll be back with something to help.”

Y/n moved closer to her mom as Rio slipped out off to the kitchen. She felt the blanket's comforting weight and settled beside Agatha on the bed. She reached out, squeezing Agatha’s hand. “You scared me, you know,” Y/n admitted, her voice a soft murmur.

Agatha gently squeezed her daughter’s hand, offering a reassuring smile. “I know, darling. But that’s what your mom and I are here for—to keep you safe.” She reached up, brushing a strand of hair from Y/n’s face, her expression tender. “I’m just glad you’re alright.”

Y/n nodded, her face softening as she curled beside Agatha, laying her head on her mom’s shoulder. “Me too.” She reached for the remote on the bedside table and turned on the small TV, picking a favorite movie and letting the familiar scenes unfold to help ease both their minds.

It wasn’t long before Rio returned, holding a small glass vial filled with a warm, golden liquid. She paused in the doorway, taking in the sight of Agatha and Y/n nestled together under the blankets, the soft glow from the TV casting a gentle light over them. Her heart swelled at the sight—these two people were her entire world.

“Alright,” she said, crossing over to the bed with a warm smile. “I brewed up something to help with that magic drain, Mi Amor.” She gently handed her the vial, brushing her fingers over Agatha’s hand as she did so.

Agatha took the potion gratefully, raising it in a mock toast. “Here’s to your potion skills, Chérie.” She downed it in one quick swallow, wincing as the bitter taste hit her tongue but already feeling the warmth of the magic-infused mixture spreading through her, replenishing her strength.

Y/n watched the exchange with a small smile, nestling herself deeper into Agatha’s side. “Does that mean Mama's back to full strength now?” she asked, her eyes glancing between her moms.

Rio chuckled, climbing onto the bed beside them. “It’ll help, but it takes time to heal fully. Good thing you two have nowhere to be but right here.” She wrapped an arm around Agatha’s shoulders, pulling her close and brushing a kiss to her temple.

Agatha leaned into the touch, her body finally relaxing as she rested her head on Rio’s shoulder. “Right here,” she murmured, wrapping an arm around Y/n and pulling her closer.

Together, they lay wrapped in each other’s warmth, the stress of the evening fading under the comfort of their bond. The movie played softly in the background, but none of them paid much attention; this moment was all that mattered.

Rio’s hand gently smoothed over Agatha’s shoulder, tracing small circles, while her other hand gently rested over Y/n’s. Agatha closed her eyes, letting the comfort of her family surround her, the three of them cocooned in the warmth of the blanket and the love they’d woven together over the years.

They simply lay there for a while, taking in the quiet, steady beat of each other’s presence, no words necessary.

[ladydigianna]

Oooooooooh are you doing requests?? Bc I’m just DYING to read a forbidden love trope with hort from school of good and evil 🖤he’s so bbg wet cat looking freak (affectionate)

from the author: omg hello !! yes i am !! as soon as i saw it i knew i just had to write it so here you are i hope you enjoy this anon !!

secrets in the shadows || hort x tedros’ sister reader

notes: my first request hehe

pairings: hort x ever!reader

genre: forbidden love

type: oneshot

-fic under the cut-

You sat at the window of your dorm in the School for Good, staring out at the lush landscape of Gavaldon in the distance. The flickering lanterns of the castle illuminated the night sky, and for a moment, it all seemed so peaceful. But inside, your mind was swirling with chaos.

Being Tedros’ sister came with responsibilities, especially being an Ever. You were expected to embody perfection, grace, and loyalty to the School for Good. But your heart was far more complicated than that.

You were in love with Hort.

It wasn’t supposed to happen. He was a Never, a boy from the shadows, the antithesis of everything Good stood for. Your relationship was a secret—hidden glances during classes, stolen moments in dark corridors, and whispered conversations in the dead of night. But recently, it wasn’t enough for Hort.

You remembered the fight, the one that tore a crack in your heart.

“We can’t keep doing this,” Hort had said, his voice strained as he paced back and forth in the woods just beyond the school. “I’m tired of hiding, Y/N.”

You looked at him, your arms crossed defensively. “Hort, you know why we have to. If anyone finds out, it could ruin everything.”

“Ruin what?” he snapped, turning to face you, his green eyes blazing with frustration. “All we have are a few moments here and there. We’re practically invisible. What are we even protecting?”

You swallowed hard, the weight of your crown pressing down on you. “I’m protecting my family—Tedros, the kingdom. If they find out I’m with a Never…”

Hort’s jaw clenched, his fists curling at his sides. “So, I’m just some dirty secret to you?”

“That’s not fair, Hort,” you whispered, tears pricking at your eyes. “You know it’s more than that.”

“Then why don’t you want to tell anyone? Why are you ashamed of me?” His words cut through you like a blade, sharp and painful.

“I’m not ashamed,” you choked out. “I’m scared.”

He shook his head, his expression hardening. “Fine. If you’re too scared to be with me out in the open, maybe we shouldn’t be together at all.”

And just like that, he walked away, leaving you alone with your guilt and your fear.

For weeks, things were cold between you two. Hort avoided you in the halls, and when your eyes met during lunch, he’d look away, as if the sight of you pained him. You tried to bury yourself in your studies, but nothing could distract you from the ache in your chest.

Tedros noticed something was off but didn’t pry. Beatrix, always nosy, gave you concerned looks, while Sophie and Agatha were too caught up in their own drama to notice. But you missed Hort—his sarcastic comments, his ridiculous smirk, the way he could make you laugh even on the worst days.

You couldn’t take it anymore. You had to fix things.

One night, when the moon was high in the sky, you found Hort sitting by the lake near the School for Evil, staring at the reflection of the castle in the water. He didn’t look up when you approached.

“Hort,” you said softly, stepping closer. He remained silent.

You took a deep breath, your heart pounding in your chest. “I’m sorry,” you whispered. “I’ve been so focused on what I’m afraid of that I forgot what matters most.”

He glanced up at you, his expression guarded but hopeful. “And what’s that?”

“You,” you said, kneeling beside him. “I love you, Hort. And I don’t want to lose you.”

His eyes softened, the hurt still there but fading. “Then why are we hiding?”

“I was scared of what my family would think. Of what the others would say,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “But I realized that none of that matters. If I lose you because of my fear, then I’ve already lost everything.”

Hort looked at you for a long moment, then sighed, the tension in his shoulders easing. “So, what now?”

You reached out and took his hand, squeezing it tightly. “We go public. Together.”

The next morning, you and Hort stood just outside the dining hall, your heart pounding as you laced your fingers together. You could already hear the chatter of students inside, oblivious to the storm about to hit.

“Ready?” Hort asked, his voice steady despite the uncertainty in his eyes.

You nodded, taking a deep breath. “Ready.”

With that, you pushed open the doors, stepping into the bustling dining hall hand in hand. At first, no one noticed—students were too caught up in their conversations and breakfast. But then, the whispers started, spreading like wildfire across the room.

Beatrix was the first to react, her mouth dropping open in shock. “What—?”

Agatha and Sophie exchanged a look, their eyes wide with surprise. Anadil, Dot, and Hester, who had been sitting together, stared in disbelief, Hester’s brow furrowed in confusion while Dot’s eyes lit up with curiosity.

But the most intense reaction came from Tedros. He stood up so fast that his chair clattered to the floor, his blue eyes blazing as he stormed over to you.

“What is this?” he demanded, his gaze shifting between you and Hort. “You’re with him?”

You swallowed, standing your ground. “Yes, I am.”

Tedros stared at you, as if struggling to process your words. “But he’s a Never.”

“I know,” you said, lifting your chin. “And I love him.”

The dining hall went silent, all eyes on you and Hort. Tedros looked torn between anger and confusion, but after a moment, he let out a frustrated sigh and ran a hand through his hair. “Fine,” he muttered, though he clearly wasn’t thrilled. “Just…don’t expect me to like it.”

Hort smirked, giving Tedros a mock salute. “Wouldn’t dream of it, mate.”

Agatha nudged Sophie, who was still staring in disbelief. “Looks like love really is unpredictable,” she whispered, earning a glare from Sophie.

You turned to Hort, squeezing his hand as relief washed over you. The hardest part was over, and now, you were free to be together—no more hiding, no more secrets.

And as you and Hort sat down, hand in hand, you realized that nothing else mattered as long as you had each other.

[rezwrites]

Nowhere Safe

Pairing: Agatha Harkness/Reader

Summary: Lost in the woods, you're tired and desperate when you stumble upon a strange cabin.

word count: 2.6k+

Warnings: 18+ MDNI, Dead Dove: Do Not Eat, spell casting/drugging on reader so-noncon, porn w/ a lot of plot, magic bondage, thigh-riding, fingering, strap-on, young adults messing around with a ouiji board

a/n: I have risen from the dead for spooky season!

You do NOT have permission to copy or repost my works anywhere.

You feel a chill run down your spine as you and your friends huddle around the Ouija board, moonlight filtering through the dense canopy above. The forest seemingly holding its breath, waiting. You’re berating yourself for letting Cassie drag you into this, you remember her begging, pleading with you to come along.

With wobbly fingers, you place your hand on the planchette alongside your friends. The cool, smooth surface feels almost alive beneath your touch. You exchange nervous glances, hearts pounding in unison.

"Is anyone there?" you call out, voice barely audible over the rustling leaves.

The planchette begins to move, slowly across the board. Your eyes widen as its spells out its message. You can't tell if it's your friends moving it or something... else. A twig snaps in the darkness beyond your circle. You all jump, pulses racing. “Was that just an animal, or something more sinister?” Your friend tries to make a joke as he laughs, the others letting out a few chuckles. Everyone falls silent as the planchette picks up speed, darting from letter to letter. The message it spells makes your blood run cold.

R-U-N A-W-A-Y

You want to pull your hand away, to end this game, but something keeps you frozen in place. A gust of wind extinguishes the lanterns, plunging your group into darkness. In the split second before your eyes adjust, you swear you see a figure standing just beyond the trees, watching. You blink, and it's gone. The forest suddenly feels alive, aware, closing in around you. Everyone starts screaming, darting into the forest at different directions. You spot Cassie and try to follow her so you both aren’t alone.

Stumbling through the dense forest, your heart pounding in your chest. The realization hits you like a punch to the gut: you've lost sight of Cassie. One moment she was right in front of you, and the next, she vanished into the green labyrinth surrounding you.

"Cassie!" you call out, your voice trembling. "Cassie, where are you?" Only the rustling of leaves answers your desperate cries.

Panic begins to set in as you spin around, trying to get your bearings. Every direction looks the same – an endless sea of trees and undergrowth. You struggle to remember which way you came from, which path you were following. Everything blurs together in your fear-addled mind. Hearing a loud crunch from behind, you took off in the opposite direction.

The branches whipped across your face as you tore through the dense forest. Lungs burning with each ragged breath, but you didn't dare slow down. Pounding heartbeat was deafening in your ears, nearly drowning out the ominous rustling behind you.

Risking a quick glance over your shoulder, only for the thick foliage to reveal nothing. Still, you could feel it - that nameless, faceless terror pursuing you relentlessly through the shadows of the trees. You couldn't say what is was. All you knew was the primal fear coursing through your veins, urging you to run faster, harder; anything to get away.

Seeing a dim light in the distance hope blossomed in your chest at the thought of help, and a way out these woods. You’d be sure to scold your friends once you found them again in town.

Coming up to the clearing you see an old cabin looming before you, its weathered wooden exterior blending seamlessly with the surrounding forest. You approach cautiously, however passing the fence at the tree line, an eerie silence descends. The porch creaked ominously under your weight as you reach for the rusted door knocker.

Suddenly, the door creaks open. Startled, you take a step back, your heart racing in your chest. A middle-aged woman emerges, her silhouette framed by warm light spilling from inside.

"Oh? You poor thing lost out here," she coos, her voice dripping with sympathy. She opens the door wider gesturing you forward, "Come in, come in."

Before you can explain, she ushers you inside. The cabin's warmth immediately envelops you, a stark contrast to the cold forest night. The woman guides you to a seat near a rustic fireplace, its flames casting dancing shadows on the walls. As you sit in the chair, fatigue washes over you.

She bustles about, humming softly to herself. "Let me get make you some tea," she urged, disappearing into what you assume is the kitchen. The crackling fire fills the silence, its heat seeping into your bones.

Left alone, you take in your surroundings. The cabin, for all its apparent coziness, feels like a place out of time. Flames swirl in the firelight, and you notice strange symbols carved into the wooden beams above.

The floorboards creak softly as the woman returns, a steaming cup in her hands. Her auburn hair framing her face, falling over her shoulders as she holds out the small, porcelain cup. Her eyes lock with yours, and for a moment, you swear they flash an unnatural purple. "Drink up, dear," she insists, her voice suddenly lower, more resonant. "It'll help you relax."

You force a smile, swallowing hard. "Thank you," you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. Your fingers tremble as you accept the tea, the warmth of the room unable to quell the shiver traveling down your spine.

The woman watches intently as you raise the cup to your lips. The tea has an odd, bitter aftertaste that lingers on your tongue. You try to hide your grimace, not wanting to offend her. As you drink, a strange fog begins to creep into your mind. The edges of your vision blur, and the room seems to tilt and sway. You blink hard, trying to clear your head, but the fog only thickens.

You furrow your eyebrows trying to speak, to ask what's happening, but your tongue feels heavy and useless in your mouth. You start seeing purple wisps floating in your vision as you try to remain focused.

“So beautiful, so pliant now,” she breaths out, taking a step back from you. Before you can react, she raises her right hand in a swift, deliberate motion. Instantly, you feel an invisible force yanking your arms behind your back, your wrists binding together as if tied by unseen ropes.

Panic surges through you as you attempt to struggle against the magical restraints. The cup of tea clatters to the floor, its contents spilling across the worn wooden planks. The woman's gentle demeanor vanishes, replaced by a cruel smirk.

"Now, now," she chides, her voice no longer sickly sweet but stern and commanding. "There's no need to struggle. You're not going anywhere."

The shadows in the corners of the room seem to deepen and writhe, responding to her will. The symbols carved into the beams above pulse with an eerie purple light, matching the glow in her eyes. You realize with growing horror that this is no ordinary woman, but a witch of considerable power.

"You and your friends playing with that silly board, sweetie, you were practically begging for something to happen.” she laughs, circling you like a predator. Placing her hand on the armrests of the chair, caging you in, "and who am I to say no to such a pretty toy.”

As she speaks, tendrils of purple mist begin to curl around your feet, slowly creeping up your body. Your mind races, albeit sluggishly, desperately searching for a way out of this nightmare, but with your hands bound and the witch's magic surrounding you, escape is impossible. She steps behind you, her lithe fingers trailing your shoulders.

“Hold still, little one," she murmurs, her voice both soothing and commanding. Your skin prickles with goosebumps as your shirt is torn away, she rips your bra straps before tossing it to the side. The witch's hand presses against your right shoulder blade, and you gasp at a brief flash of heat followed by a freezing cold that spreads throughout your body.

You can feel the sigil taking root within you, its power pulsing in time with your heartbeat. Strange symbols dance at the edges of your vision, and you swear you can hear whispers in a language you don't understand.

The witch steps back, admiring her handiwork. "There," a satisfied smile playing on her lips. "You're mine now, marked by my magic." She kisses around the sigil carefully with your tender skin. Her lips trail up behind your ear, hands moving to your waist, moving you over to the sofa.

The violet upholstery gave way as she laid you down gently. The soft velvet of the sofa felt abrasive against your fresh mark. You tried lifting your shoulder to lessen the pressure but your body felt heavy as stone.

“Don’t worry, I don’t intend on hurting you… too much,” she presses a soft kisses against your lips, deep and languid. Your whole body was sensitive as she kissed down your chest, sucking a nipple into her mouth pinching the other. One hand found purchase on your waist while the other grabbed your pants catching the waistline of your panties, pulling them down in one tug. Each touch, each gesture, sent waves of sensation coursing through you.

She released your nipple with a pop, pulling you up above her, settling you onto her thigh as she laid back into the cushions. Your slick already making a mess on her black leather pants. She smirked watching your eyes close and roll back, your hips bucking.

“There you go, doll. Give me a little show.” She grinned as you speed up, tossing your head back, chasing the pleasure her thigh gave you. She latched herself to your neck sucking deep purple marks all over. Her hands pulled your hips down, giving your clit more pressure as your hips jerked.

Pulling her thigh away she slips two digits into your wet cunt, thumb brushing over your clit. Her fingers curl as she slides them deeper, against the spongy wall of your pussy. Digging her nails into your hips, engraving crescent marks, your jaw dropped whimpers escaping you. This woman was itching to get all the sounds she can out of you. Your mind hazy as you rode her fingers faster, the coil tightening in your lower stomach, your breaths heavy, you were so close.

“Agatha!” you cried out, hips stuttering, waves of pleasure crashing down on you, body trembling above her. You don’t know how you know this woman’s name, all you know that her name is chanting in your mind like prayer and it’s the only keeping you sane right now. “My names sounds so magical falling from your mouth, doll.” She gasps, locking her lips onto yours again as she lays you back down.

You try catching your breath as you hear the rustling of clothes being thrown about. You register the soreness in your upper back and wrists, as you feel cool tendrils wrap around your thighs holding them apart. Agatha’s hands replace the tendrils, scooting herself closer to your core. Conjuring a strap on her hips out the thin air, she runs the tip up and down your slit, gathering your wetness on her shaft.

Your eyes open to find her hovering over you, her azure orbs shockingly holding concern. You hadn’t realized you were crying until now, tears blurring your vision. “Deep breath for me, doll,” she shutters pushing the tip into your quivering hole, the harness rubbing against her clit. Thumbs tracing patterns on your outer thighs as he bottomed out, allowing you a second to adjust. She made tiny pumps, transfixed on how your cunt took her.

“Taking me so well, doll.” Agatha panted above you, leaning her head back as she brought your knees over her shoulder, driving into you faster. The loud squelch of your pussy was drowned out by your moaning, back arching as your body ached for release.

She dropped her head nibbling at your ear lobe as she added a finger to her strap, curling it again. You whined at the little stretch, her thumb returning to your clit. “Come on, doll, I know you’re almost there. Be good and come for me,” she encouraged you, her voice soft. Your body froze, then shook in tandem with hers. “Good girl” repeatedly falling for her lips as she dragged out both of your orgasms.

Her moans low in your ear, breaths heaving as she flips you both over, pulling you close her chest. “Shh doll. It’s over for now, you can rest.” Exhaustion steeps within your bones, sleep calling you as your body grows heavy once more. She grabbed your chin and tilted your head up, her voice low and stern, “but don’t you dare think I’m done with you. Not by a long shot.” Your vision blurred as felt a cozy blanket being placed over you, going limp in her arms.

-

Your eyes snap open, heart racing as you find yourself lying on a cold, dusty floor. Soft sunlight streams through grimy windows, illuminating dancing dust clouds. The musty smell of damp wood fills your nostrils as you slowly sit up, your body aching with every movement.

Looking around, you see cobwebs clinging to the corners of the room, and a thick layer of dust covering every surface, confused as to how you got here in the first place.

Suddenly, you hear voices in the distance. They're calling your name, their tones urgent and worried. You recognize them – it's your friends. They've been searching for you all night, their calls growing more frantic with each passing hour.

Relief washes over you, but it's quickly replaced by a new sense of urgency. You need to let them know where you are.

You struggle to your feet, your legs unsteady beneath you. Dusting yourself off, the floorboards creak as you make your way to the cabin's door. Your hand trembles as you reach for the rusty doorknob, ripping the door open and almost off its hinges. You try to call out, but your voice comes out as a hoarse whisper. Your throat is dry, and you realize you're desperately thirsty.

"There you are!" Cassie's worried voice fills the space as she rushes towards you from beyond the tree-line, “We were looking all night for you!"

"What happened?" you ask, your voice hoarse and shaky as you try to quell the tears welling up. She’s shaking as she grasps your shoulders, looking you over for any wounds.

Cassie's brow furrows, concern etched on her face. "You suddenly got up and started running, and we ran after you. You don’t remember anything?”

Her words freeze you in place. You have no memory of running, let alone how you ended up in this dilapidated cabin. The gap in your recollection is unsettling, a black void where your memories should be.

"N-no, I just remembered us around the board then-," your voice trembles, gasping as you struggle to remember.

"You're safe now. You gave us quite a scare. The others are still searching. We should let them know you're safe." Cassie comes beside you, her hand gently resting on your back, wincing in pain as her arm passed over your shoulder blade, igniting a deep ache.

As you stumble off the cabin porch on unsteady legs, questions swirl in your mind. What happened during those lost hours? What compelled you to run into the woods? And why can't you remember any of it?

The forest around you seems to hold its secrets close, the trees silent witnesses to a night you can't recall. As you and Cassie make your way back to your friends, you can't shake the feeling that something inexplicable occurred in these woods - something that may have changed you in ways you've yet to understand.

[autisticagathasblog]

Woah I'm actually doing:?

Warning mention: Bugs, Maggots specifically, and sickness.

Bad writing, rough draft moment

(I'm new at the Mature system)