No Going Back
Summary: An incurable illness plagues you, something one of a kind that has never been seen before. It corrupts magic, leaving you unable to use your powers without risking death or worse. Someone wants all of your unused power themselves, and a reluctant Agatha Harkness is convinced to keep you safe after some bribing.
A/N: aaa I've had the idea for this for like 2yrs now!!! I'm super excited to be finishing it and posting it finally!! It's my first in depth, planned fanfic and I'm super excited to share it I hope you guys like it <3
(Also lowk paranoid that some of the creative decisions I made for this fic are gonna end up being explained in the show so just nevermind that if it happens we're just here for some fun romance and smut with Agatha ok)
WC: 3k
Anxiety gnaws away at your insides as you flick on your blinker, knuckles tightening around the steering wheel as you turn down that familiar dirt road that you hate so much. That long, winding dirt road that also leads to the house that you hate so much.
You try the breathing exercises your therapist taught you. The slow, calculated inhales, the holding your breath, and slow calculated exhales, but it does nothing to relieve the feeling in your chest that’s suffocating you.
The cars headlights cut through the darkness, thick layers of tall, old trees swarming each side of the road as their branches bow overhead. You can’t even see the night sky through the thick layers of leaves.
You’re positive that if you had consulted your therapist about this little visit before coming, she would have told you that it’s not a good idea. That reopening old wounds after basically being no contact for four years would undo a lot of healing and hard work.
But, when you listened to your fathers urgent voicemail, you knew you needed to come. You had no choice. The deal you made with him before leaving was more than fair. He agreed to leave you alone and only contact you if it was a necessary emergency. And you agreed to that more than fair deal.
He wanted you to be as far away from him as possible, and you wanted the same thing. To be far, far away from him and any reminders of what happened to you, your childhood and the toxic magical community you grew up in.
You’re sure that you were only able to get away because of your little defect. And because after your mother died, he immediately remarried and your father didn’t waste time popping out plenty of new babies, pureblooded heirs that could flawlessly wield their old blood magic unlike you.
If your father called you back home you know it’s a serious, urgent matter. And that only makes your chest grow tighter as you turn the last bend and your childhood home comes into view.
“Well.. Here we go..”
You grumble to yourself, the tall, menacing house looming over you amongst all of the trees. The night sky actually cuts through these parts, the moonglow illuminating the house and its surroundings as you pull up to the front door. Immediately you kill the engine and shift your car into park, leaning forward to peer up at the house.
The pristine white under the moonlight makes it look like it’s glowing. It stands tall and proud and perfect, no chipping or dirt in sight. A black roof sits on top, perfectly black framed windows spread along the sides of the house, and not a single one is lit up with evidence of life. Curiously, you keep peering, checking for a sign of anyone being in the house. With a deep breath you grab your keys and your bag and exit the car.
It’s dead silent, save for the sound of crickets and the rustling of leaves in the trees when a soft breeze blows through. You pause as you take a deep breath to steady yourself. Cautiously, you walk around to the other side of the house, leaning over and peering just enough to see if any lights were turned on.
Nope. Nothing. All of the windows are black as pitch. You groan, pinching your eyes shut as you try to soothe yourself by rubbing your fingers on your forehead.
Whatever. You’ll just go inside and call your father. You’d be dead meat if you left without his permission, anyways. He sounded very urgent. Deathly urgent. With a deep exhale pushing past your lips, you walk back around the house, the wind chilling your cheeks as you start to make your way up the front steps.
No door handle, just a block of smooth painted wood that looks like a door. A wave of exhaustion overtakes you as you press your palm to the smooth center of the wood, your features dropping as an electric blue glow flows in ripples over the door before it parts for you, splitting down the middle and swinging open.
The main hall is eerily dark and you have to force yourself to move forward. The moonlight is bright enough to where you can see, but everything is shadowed. The hall stretches out far, down the length of the entire house before leading to the wide, open stairs that would take you up to the expansive second level.
A hard, loud slam echoes through the halls and shakes the house. It’s enough for you to let out a scream and jump as you fling yourself around to the source of the noise, noticing the front doors are sealed closed. Your face scrunches in confusion at the sight. It should just.. Close like a normal door as soon as you are comfortably in the threshold of the house. Never have you seen it linger or slam like that before, not even in your years growing up here.
You sigh, deciding to brush it off even though you know something is wrong, more so because you know that you’re incapable of protecting yourself like a normal witch would be able to so gaslighting yourself is just the easier option for now.
Besides, whatever’s wrong can’t be life endangering to you. The property is warded and safe, it’s basically impossible to get through to the house let alone inside of it. Hundreds of years of magical wards and barriers make sure of that. So, you grab your phone out of your coat pocket, your fingers cold as you pull up your fathers contact and press the call button.
You raise the phone to your ear as the sound of the monotonous chimes ring through the silent rooms as you pass through them, cautiously walking into the family room. The sound of your boots is muffled by the thick carpet as you walk over it to peer out of the window. The wind rushes against the side of the house, the echo of the noise whispering through the silent halls of your childhood home.
“Okay, I’m at the house. What’s going on and where are you? Please… Just call me back.”
Lowering the phone with a tense sigh, you drop it back into your coat pocket before turning back to the window. You decide to analyze the treeline for any sign of something being off, and you see something that makes your heart drop into the pit of your stomach.
One of the protective runes carved into one of the trees has been singed off. You can tell by the sizzling burn marks that it was magic, the bark of the tree burned all the way through and to the wood underneath, leaving no sign of the runes that were previously there. Your throat dries up.
Whoever did that had to have broken through two other protective barriers on the property. It’s tough magic and in order to break through it… You’d need some scarily powerful magic on your side.
There’s only been a few times over the decades since the house was built that someone has been able to break through the protective barriers. The last time was when your mother was assassinated and you were left for dead when you were a child.
You can’t stop the panic from bubbling in your chest this time, not knowing what to do or how to protect yourself. Your mind is frantic as you search for a solution, your hand moving to fist the pendant hanging from your neck, but something catches your eye and you freeze. In the reflection of the window you see her, a woman reclining in your fathers favorite chair. The back of the extravagant, plush red chair reaches high, the woman is slumped down in it, her black heeled boots dangling over one armrest of the chair as she gently swings her feet back and forth, the fabric of her purple skirt swaying with each movement.
Her body is twisted just a bit so that her front is tilted towards you, her chin resting in her palm. She’s donning a very traditionally witchy getup. Her wild, brown curls fall off of her head in crazy waves as it cascades over her shoulders. Her lips are quirked in the snarkiest smirk you’ve ever seen, your chest tightening even further when you notice her bright blue eyes are planted right on you.
You whip around to face her, your eyes widening when you see her with your own two eyes and not in the window's reflection, confirming this is real and not a figment of your imagination.
“Oh my goodness! It took you long enough to notice me! If this were a horror movie, or if I actually wanted to kill you, you would’ve been dead the second those doors slammed shut, sweetheart.”
The woman's smooth voice has a taunting edge to it. She swings her feet over and around and they land against the carpet with a dramatic thump! before she pushes herself out of the chair and onto her feet.
“Thank god I don’t want to kill you.”
Her smirk drops into a warning smile, her voice doing the same. You’re gripping your pendant so tightly that you can feel it cutting into the skin of your palm.
“What do you mean? What do you want?”
You ask, your voice shaky and soft. She drops her gaze to your fist, pointing at it.
“That’s what I want.”
Her eyes meet yours again as she takes a few steps towards you.
“Are you gonna be a good girl and give it to me? Or do I have to take it from you?”
She holds out her hand, and that’s when your gaze catches on the pendant on her neck. Your eyes widen in horror, taking a slow step backwards.
Every witch knows about Agatha Harkness. About her long list of crimes, both magical and not. Especially those of you connected to the elder families. She’s successfully stolen from some, even killed a few. She was a suspect in your mothers murder and your assault, but was ruled out for having been out of the country at the time.
“Why do you want it?”
You stutter through the sentence, trying to distract her for a moment as you mentally prepare yourself for what you’re about to do. You just keep hoping, praying to whatever god is listening, that you can get your magic to work right just this once.
“Stop stalling, honey.. You know exactly why I want it.”
You take her words as your signal to call on your magic, and it appears in a sickly blue-ish yellow glow, enveloping you as you feel it wash over you, turning you invisible. You start cursing internally, knowing your magic won’t last long enough to keep you safe. But you have to try something.
You don’t know what to do. Just run to your car, which probably won’t work, hide, which also probably won’t work, or somehow try to distract her which is your best bet but also probably won’t work.
So, you start booking it down the hall, the hard thumps of your feet on wood rattling through the old house as you dart for the stairs. Your fingers wrap around the bannister and you start running up the steps, taking them two steps at a time as you desperately search your mind for a good place to hide.
“It’s funny you think you can hide, sweetheart.”
Agatha calls after you, and you can already hear her making her way up the stairs. She’s taking her time as she follows after you. You bolt down the hall, finding your old bedroom. When you throw open the door you’re not surprised to see that they renovated it, it seems to be an art studio for your step mother now.
You step back into the hallway, remaining invisible as you quietly move out of the way. Agatha is making her way down the hall, her robes and long hair flowing dramatically behind her as she approaches the door you flung open.
“Oh, come on.. Just make this easier for the both of us and come on out.”
She laughs as she sticks her head into the room, surveying it. She must be suspicious that you’re not actually in there. You take the opportunity to do something you’ve never tried before, something stupid that could kill you- and you call on your magic.
You raise your hand, closing your eyes as you carefully begin to draw your power from the pendant around your neck. It’s unstable in its pure form like this, your anxiety bubbling in your chest as you draw it into your hand, feeling it crackle and pop like a fire. You feel the invisibility spell wash off of you like water, your fingers flicking backwards in time with the powerful bursts of magic.
You build the magic steadily, higher and higher as you wait for her to turn around.
When she finally does, you twist your arms, using all of your strength to fling the yellow-blue ball of magic right into the woman. She flies backwards, and you hear the crashing noises as she falls right into all of the easels and canvases.
Peering through the door, you see her in a clump on the floor with the broken and tattered art supplies. She blows a long piece of thick brown hair that hand landed in her face out of the way with a dramatic puff of her lips.
“I thought you couldn’t use magic..”
Agatha grumbles as she climbs to her feet, dusting herself off. She pauses, an uneasy look overtaking her face.
“What.. What was that?”
She groans, wrapping her arms around her stomach where your magic had landed. You let out a breathy, surprised laugh.
“What did you do to me!? I thought you couldn't use magic!”
Agatha yells at you, rage seeping through her voice as it booms in the halls of the house. Fear grips you again as you straighten up, not bothering to give her an explanation.
She groans out in pain behind you, and you start running. Your feet heavy thumps as you book it down the hall, thinking you finally got a chance.
Not only does she need to realize what's happening to her, she needs to purge it from her body. Someone that powerful shouldn't have an issue dealing with it, but fighting it out should stall just long enough for you to get away.
Or so you thought.
Something hits you so hard that you fall to the ground, landing roughly on your right arm. The force of your body hitting the hard wood beneath you causes your head to snap against the floor too, a loud yelp of pain pushing out of your throat as pain shoots in hot flashes across your skull and down your arm.
A few seconds later you’re blinking dumbly as you try to regain your senses, your head ringing and vision blurry from your hard fall. Your eyes roll in your head, a groggy groan escaping your lips as you desperately try to pick yourself off the ground.
Your right arm is stuck. Shoulder to hand, as if it’s superglued to the wood beneath you. Desperately you pull on your arm, trying to sit up to no avail as you hear the woman approaching you from behind.
You’re basically a bug that walked into a sticky trap, helpless as you watch your impending demise approach you. You turn your head to the sound of boots on the wooden floor, seeing Agatha sauntering towards you, purple skirt swaying around the ankles of her black boots. You’re just barely able to make out a coherent thought through all of the pain and fog clouding your mind- you’re fucked.
Your heart is pounding in your chest, your head throbbing in time with every beat as the woman crouches down before you. You’re unable to focus on her features, desperately wincing and pinching your eyes shut to try and get rid of the pain. Her fingers wrap around your jaw, biting softly into your cheeks as she focuses your lolling head on her gaze.
“I’m sorry.. I didn’t mean for you to hit the ground that hard. Don’t wanna risk damaging that pretty face, hm?”
You blink rapidly as she starts to come into focus. You try to gargle out a response, but find yourself unable to as pain shoots through your skull. She coos at you with wide eyes, raising her free hand to run softly over the top of your head.
“At the very least, there’s gonna be a bump. At the very most, a concussion.. I really am sorry, but I needed this-”
Her hand is reaching towards your neck. Panic spikes in your chest when you realize she’s going to grab your necklace.
“N-no!”
You force the word past your lips in a desperate stutter, your voice echoing through the long hall so loudly that it surprises you. The witch before you even seems a bit taken off guard, curling her fingers back as she retreats her hand only slightly.
“What’s wrong with your magic..”
She asks, her voice soft and firm as her eyes narrow at you in curiosity. Panic is bubbling in your chest, rising in your throat.
“I don’t know.”
You whisper in return, before that all too familiar flash of blue-yellow magic lights up between the two of you. Agatha raises her hands, manifesting a wide, purple shield the exact moment your unstable magic collides with it. A loud noise sounds right when it collides with hers, shaking the house and echoing loudly in your ears. Your head flies in the opposite direction at the force, smacking against the floor once again as your vision goes black.
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I deviated from my usual DNF today to write a little platonic snf fic because their friendship lately really is sweet.
So here's a little something I wrote this morning, based on my thoughts about what's been going on at twitchcon. Hope you all enjoy it :)
That's what friends are for
- a dteam fic
George settled into his seat at the table and poked at the food on his plate. It was mid at best, and he would have rather eaten at his favorite sushi restaurant, but he needed to do this.
It was the last item on his checklist - the one his therapist gave him several months ago.
What did she call it again?
Oh yeah - exposure therapy.
At least he'd been building up to it though - taking little baby steps.
That first step off the plane after it arrived in LA. Stepping out of the Uber in front of twitchcon. Walking through the door, and every freaking step that followed.
Through it all, Sapnap never left his side.
To be fair though, most of those steps were made with his friend gently pushing him.
At least it started gentle in the airport.
“It's ok.” Sapnap patted him on the shoulder. “You've got this.”
Several hours later Sapnap reached the end of his patience.
“George…” Sapnap rolled his eyes. “For fuck’s sake, it's a fucking bathroom. Just go.”
By the end of the first day George was feeling better. He'd had several interactions with fans, each more positive than the one before. It bolstered his confidence so much that he barely flinched before walking into Komanche’s party that night.
Sapnap's assurance that there wouldn't be any opps there helped too.
And he had fun. More fun than he'd had in months.
The only thing missing was Dream, although George had texted his best friend several times through the night with updates, silly selfies, and more “I miss you”s than he cared to admit.
And when he got back to his hotel room early in the morning and flopped onto his bed, for the first time in months George felt… normal.
Now though… Right now he did not feel normal.
But like he said, this was the last step. If he could get through this, he could get through anything.
George took a deep breath, shoved a bite of bland food into his mouth and chewed silently while the sounds of idle chatter rang in his ears. He couldn't pick out any specific voices, at least not until four bites in.
The first voice sent George back two years, to a flat in London and a once friendly voice coming from his phone.
Loud. Boisterous.
Annoying.
Moments later more voices joined in, as familiar as the first. George closed his eyes, focusing on the feel of the tasteless mush in his mouth. It stuck to his tongue like paste and he forced it down before reaching for his glass of lemonade.
One by one, each and every one of the opps George had dreaded seeing pulled out chairs around the long table. Some said polite hellos to him or Sapnap, some offered sideways glances and eye rolls. Whispers to each other, wondering why he was here.
He fixed his eyes on his plate, waiting for what would surely come next. For Harry or anyone to make a scene and tell him and Sapnap to leave. But they didn't.
Why didn't they?
Were they planning to roast him? Taunt him? Threaten him?
A tap of a shoe on his own foot pulled George from his spiral and he glanced to his right. Sapnap gave him an encouraging smile, then lifted his glass.
George’s heart slowed as he lifted his glass of lemonade and clinked it against Sapnap’s.
His friend was here with him, and he wasn't going anywhere.
An hour later, the opps filed out of the cafeteria after an awkward group picture. George knew he and Sapnap would be cropped out of it, but he didn't care. Sapnap called up an Uber, and once they were alone he opened FaceTime. A familiar tone sounded, followed by an even more familiar voice - one that calmed the last few frazzled nerves that crackled under George's skin.
“Hey!” Dream said, voice soft over the muffled sounds of football echoing on the other end of the line. “Wait, let me go somewhere quieter first.”
A few minutes later Dream stepped into a quiet corner in the stadium and held up his phone again. "So, what's up?”
“Dude!” Sapnap exclaimed. “You wouldn't believe what just happened to us! It was insane and weird and maybe a little uncomfortable for Gogy here but he did it!” George laughed as Sapnap wrapped an arm around his shoulder and continued. “He sat at the same fucking table as like a dozen oops and he didn't have a panic attack or leave or anything. He sat there with me and showed those bastards that he didn't care. And damn it, I'm so fucking proud of this guy!”
With another giggle, George grinned, then looked at Sapnap's phone.
Dream blinked twice before the image on Sapnap’s phone started shaking with excitement. “Let's go! Let's fucking go! I'm so proud of you George!”
“Thanks.” George replied with a smile, shifting his gaze between his two friends and wishing they could all be together right now.
“So does this mean…” Dream’s face drew closer, filling up the screen in a comical way.
“Mm-hmm.” George nodded excitedly. “I'm ready. Once I get home, I'm ready to come back. Ready to post videos again. Ready to stream again. I just need one thing, Dream.”
Sapnap dropped his arm and pulled away from George. “Wait, wait, wait… whatever you're gonna say, George, if it's what I think it is then you need to call Dream later from your own phone.”
“Ewww, no!” George giggled and pressed a hand to his face. “I was just going to say that I need a big group hug. With my two best friends.”
“Think we can do that, Sapnap?” Dream replied, laughing.
“You know what?” Sapnap wrapped his arm around George again. “I think we can.”
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