#harximoff

[garrywantspasta]

Continuing my Punk bullshit...

"Wanna ride my broom?..."

[lanfear-is-my-darkmistress]

I'm gonna need Agatha to work on her recruiting skills if that's the case. Of course Wanda wasn't interested she's was being mentally tormented by Agatha 😂😂😂😂

[satanic-nightjar]

Wanda, texting Agatha: [sends a voice message]

Agatha, texting back: I’m a little busy, is it urgent?

Wanda: No, don’t worry, just listen later :)

[Later]

Agatha: [presses play]

Wanda’s voice message: THERE’S A FIRE-

[inchaosthereiscalculation]

"May she be strong and wise, and the best at her craft."

"May she be smart and not annoying. And, also not super political."

"May she be pleasant looking."

"Can she bring some advil?"

These were the hopes of the women of Agatha's newly minted, 'not right-minded' coven of witches, who had taken to the witch's road in the hopes of fulfilling their hearts' desires.

Their stated intentions were followed by more chanting, and some furious, wild gesticulating on the part of one Agatha Harkness, all of which must have worked because, suddenly, one Wanda Maximoff found herself no longer buried underneath a mountanous collapsed cavern, but very much conscious of the fact that she was alive. It was a fact made clear by a dramatic display, one that saw Wanda coughing up dirt as she clawed her way out of the ground, up from what was certainly far too shallow of a grave to be where her body had originally fallen.

Wanda was dirty, bruised, and certainly not looking her best, but at least she could say now that her fingertips were stained by more than just her use of the Darkhold's power.

Predictably, given the circumstances in which they'd parted, Agatha was unhappy to see Wanda. "Oh, give me a break," she scoffed. The looks of confusion the expression garnered had Agatha explaining to the group, "She's no green witch. She's a chaos witch."

"And what do you think causes creation?" challenged Wanda before answering her own rhetorical question. "It's chaos. After all, they say the Earth was created by an explosion, and what's greener than Earth? Besides, I made my own apple orchard. Before..." she'd truly spiraled. "Or after..." Westview and the destruction of everyone she held dear. "It doesn't matter. I found peace in it for a time. Solace." Though, clearly, not peace enough.

"Now, before we get off on the wrong foot," she said, red sparks already at the ready at her fingertips, "does anyone care to tell me where I am and why I'm here?"

[magicsprat]

𝑨𝒈𝒂𝒕𝒉𝒂 𝑯𝒂𝒓𝒌𝒏𝒆𝒔𝒔 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑾𝒂𝒏𝒅𝒂 𝑴𝒂𝒙𝒊𝒎𝒐𝒇𝒇 – 𝟓𝟎-𝟔𝟎 𝒔 𝒂𝒆𝒔𝒕𝒉𝒆𝒕𝒊𝒄𝒔

[lost-on-t-umblr]

okay but do we think Rio was jealous of the tears Agatha was crying for Wanda,,,,, (trapped under a spell as her mind may have been)

[thelilreddragon]

ENEMIES TO LOVERS???? PLEASE??? JUST GIVE ME THIS????

[hrwinter]

i need to see agatha flirt with wanda again

[aparticularbandit]

Additional thoughts (two separate posts):

The Road is clearly causing the witches to confront their trauma in a space where they can depend on each other to help them out of and overcome it.

What did Agatha do with Wanda during WandaVision?

She took her through her most traumatic memories in a space where she can learn from them.

Agatha took Wanda through a version of the Road, and what Wanda needed most at the end of it was to accept who she was as the Scarlet Witch and to overcome her trauma.

...we don't mention DSMOM changing that ending because it ruins the point.

[our-blood-is-our-ink]

Careful Creatures

Ship(s): Hela x Agatha, Agatha x Wanda, Wanda x Hela, Hela x Agatha x Wanda

Summary: Three powerful beings broken down back to the start somehow find themselves brought together as they relearn themselves and each other

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, descriptions of being burnt, mild gore, sexual assault/non-con/rape, abuse of alcohol/alcoholism/addiction, amnesia, domestic violence, implied use of roofing drugs

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

A/N: Please READ THE WARNINGS before proceeding. If this were on AO3 it would be rate E for explicit material later on in the series, and M for mature material for the heavy content this story deals in

|| next

Chapter One

She falls in a blaze.

Green and gold and black, streaking through the heavens and flames, like some dying star in need of a desperate wish of its own.

Her skin burns and blisters and blackens, smoke filling her lungs, choking off the last vestiges of air they held.

In space, no one hears you scream.

In space, no one sees the last of a once beautiful and powerful empire crumple to nothing but debris and dust, exploding violently outwards as Ragnarok rages its final breath.

Her cheeks become adorn with the cleansing water of her own tears as she mourns, the prophecy she had been bound to at last releasing its shackles on her.

In space, no one sees her cry.

She tumbles through the darkness, with no force to counteract against her initial velocity, and she hurls through the celestial skies.

Eventually, even her godly body cannot handle the vast emptiness of space.

Her eyes slip shut, her breathing slows, and as she falls and falls and falls, she slumbers.

—»•«—

Agnes stumbles up the stairs, her feet tripping over one another as the world seems to spin.

“That you?” Her husband’s voice calls from their bedroom.

Agnes opens her mouth, the words yes, dear on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly bolts for the bathroom.

As she's heaving her insides out, Ralph’s large hand painfully yanks her hair in a bunch away from her face.

“Get it all out now, I don't want you soiling the bed.” He snaps, impatient.

Agnes shivers as she retches. It was more than the ever-oppressing feeling that something wasn’t right that drove her to stay out drinking until the bars closed.

Eventually, she has nothing left in her stomach to vomit up, and she half collapses against the cool porcelain.

Her relief is short-lived, but she doesn't fight as Ralph manhandles her.

He is her husband. When she married him, she committed herself before the eyes of God that she would be a faithful wife.

Ralph doesn't like it when she's vocal, so she bites her tongue and lets herself get lost in the dizziness her mind is experiencing and doesn't make a noise of protest or pain as he shoves her to the floor and pulls down her pants.

This is her test to bear, for making her mistakes.

You don't deserve this.

—»•«—

Wanda awakens in a cave.

It's not the oddest place she's ever woken up, though how she's so sure of that, she can't really say.

It must be a gut feeling, she decides, as she tries to think.

She knows her name, that's good.

Her age–

She's… Twenty-six? Thirty-two? She can't recall.

That's… Not normal, right?

She places a hand on a rough wall, trying to steady herself as she walks on shaky legs.

Her name is Wanda… Wanda something. Something… Off? Romanoff? No, that's not right. Romanoff was…

Wanda grits her teeth.

She knows enough that her last name isn't Romanoff, but can't remember whose last name is.

That's extremely frustrating.

Wanda stumbles along the cave, trying to find the way out, and wishes Pietro were here.

Pietro. Her brother. Her twin brother. Her brother who–

A stream of bullets hits through her chest, and she collapses to her knees, screaming her pain.

Wanda violently shakes her head, clutching it.

“Get it together, Maximoff.” She reprimands herself, before realizing what she's said.

Maximoff.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff.

That's good. It means she isn't totally amnesic.

She goes over what she knows as she begins to feel a soft breeze against her face.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff. She had a twin brother, Pietro Maximoff, who died by being gunned down. She doesn't know exactly how old she is, but she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Her parents… She doesn't remember her parents. Possibly dead, almost certainly impossible to find or reach if they aren't. She knows– knew? Knew someone with the surname Romanoff. Someone who… She stole a jacket from? Why was she remembering this and not useful information, like how did she get here? And where is here? And are there people who will be looking for her?

Dread pools in her belly.

People looking for her feels like an ominous statement.

She misses… She misses someone. Someone special. A lover, perhaps? A spouse? A… Child? She’s old enough to have had at least one.

Wanda isn't sure.

Light begins to hurt her eyes.

She's made it to the exit of the cave!

She hobbles, running as best she can, eager, bursting out into open air and freedom and–

Oh.

Oh no.

—»•«—

She burns again, still streaking green and gold and black, but this time, through the atmosphere of a planet.

When she lands, she craters the forest floor and doesn't move.

—»•«—

“Day drinking, Agnes?” Dottie clicks her tongue from behind the brown-haired woman. “I keep telling you we have a decent AA here.”

Agnes does her best to laugh off the comment.

“Oh, you know dear, it's five o’clock somewhere!”

Dottie slides into the seat across from her.

“Look. Your neighbors, I don't know if you know them, the Johnsons, they well… Mrs. Johnson said that late one night when she was just finishing putting the baby back down after a late night bottle feed, that she saw your bedroom window was open–”

“I'm sure whatever she saw she mistaken, Dot.” Agnes smiles as charmingly as she can. “You know how those late nights are with a newborn!”

“She said that Ralph was choking you, Agnes.”

Agnes’s smile slides off her face.

“If my husband,” she stresses, “had been choking me, I would have bruises.”

Dottie’s eyes flick to Agnes’s neck, which is both bare of discoloration, and the tell-tale texture of makeup.

Agnes swings back some of the brunch mimosa in her hand, closing her eyes briefly to gain strength from it.

“Ralph is a wonderful husband. He would never hurt me.” Agnes lies through her teeth. “Is that all why you decided to pay me a social visit during some of my “me” time?”

Dottie shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Agnes…” She trails, trying to find the words. “If you ever did need help, Eastwood– I mean, Westview is here for you.”

Agnes turns her smile all the way up to its brightest wattage. “Will keep that in mind, toots! Thanks for stopping by brunch to talk with this ol’ gal!”

Dottie hesitates before she stands and leaves.

Agnes's wildly beating heart doesn't slow until her fifth post-Dottie mimosa has been downed.

The truth is, Ralph does have a habit of choking her… But the bruises always fade by the next afternoon, rapidly going through the stages of healing broken blood vessels startling fast.

Agnes can't recall ever having healed that way before.

No, healing meant fire and death, healing meant agony for days and weeks because she was only ever meant to hurt, not heal.

Agnes shakes her head as if trying to dislodge the sudden pressure she feels.

That's something she has noticed.

Thinking about her past causes her awful headaches and terrible migraines.

It's best to keep to the present.

Agnes smiles at the hostess as she leaves the venue, not worried about paying.

The people of Westview took care of one another.

She doesn't notice the woman with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes who stands up and leaves after her.

—»•«—

It's been two days since Wanda had started off down the rest of what looked like an intimidating mountain, headed towards what looks to be a promising sign of life in the vibrancy of green trees.

Hopefully, there will be water somewhere there.

Wanda knows she has only twenty-four more hours until her body gives out from lack of hydration.

Her heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hydration.

Hydra.

Hydra was… Bad.

Hydra is bad.

The word gives her a bad feeling.

She keeps on, not even pausing as the tremors grow stronger from the mountain.

The ruins that lay in pieces everywhere, even so far down from the top where it once resided, make Wanda feel awful enough that she had nearly vomited the first time stepping out into the world and seeing it.

She avoids touching any part of it as best she is able.

She can hear rocks sliding somewhere to her left.

Distant.

Her shoulders drop an inch.

She isn't in direct danger. Not yet.

—»•«—

Ralph’s at the bar.

Ralph’s at the bar and he has all his friends there and she didn't know that the bartender used to date him and–

Agnes is vocal as rough hands grasp at her, groping and tugging and searching as their owners laugh.

“Here, dear.” Ralph’s voice is cold. Mocking. “I know how much you like your alcohol. Drink up.”

She doesn't have a choice, surrounded, as he passes her a cup.

Within moments of finishing it, she knows.

There's more laughter.

“So kind of that Maximoff bitch to leave you a wife.” Someone comments.

“To Ralph, and his whore!” Someone else shouts, to resounding cheers.

Agnes wants to scream for help, but the room is spinning and her limbs won't obey her instructions and her mouth feels too heavy to move and then–

—»•«—

No.

—»•«—

The ground slopes slightly, and grass turns to dirt as Wanda follows the stream she found.

Deeper and deeper it slopes, until she's been walking for at least half an hour, and then she sees a mess of blood and green.

—»•«—

The door bursts open, crashing loudly, just as her hands find their way around the nearest man’s throat, a knee jerked violently up between his legs.

The room freezes. She smirks, throws her head back, and cackles.

[garrywantspasta]

I think there would be a moment of confrontation where Wanda would spit out her resentment for that lie. It still hurts to remember that she actually believed she had a friend for a moment, and that she loved her.

Part 2:

https://www.tumblr.com/garrywantspasta/765606642288082944/part-2-of-my-headfic?source=share

[godandmonsters1996]

In a quest to resurrect Vision, Wanda seeks out Agatha Harkness, a powerful witch rumored to control the Darkhold. Their encounter is charged with dark magic and desire as Agatha offers her help in exchange for Wanda's submission. Bound by a dangerous pact, Wanda navigates a path of forbidden spells and intimate rituals, unraveling mysteries of power and passion.

"Agatha Harkness," Wanda's voice trembled slightly as she spoke the name she had sought for so long.

The figure turned slowly, revealing piercing eyes that seemed to see straight through Wanda. Agatha Harkness, ancient and formidable, regarded Wanda with a mixture of curiosity and amusement.

"So, you're the Scarlet Witch," Agatha's voice was like honey laced with venom, smooth yet carrying an undercurrent of danger. "What brings you to my humble abode, dear?"

"I need your help," Wanda's voice wavered as she struggled to maintain composure. "I've heard tales of your mastery over the Darkhold. I... I need to bring someone back."

[satanic-nightjar]

Wanda: So, I’m thinking a spring, maybe fall wedding. I don’t want it to be too hot, though.

Agatha: Wanda, we’re not even engaged.

Wanda, slamming her head on the table: SO THAT’S WHAT I FORGOT TO DO LAST NIGHT!

[marril96]

@wandagatha-week | day seven

soulmates

Storyline:

Agatha drives Wanda crazy to the point where she pursues her. Despite trying her hardest not to, she falls in love with her, but Agatha doesn't care. She thinks of their affair as a game. Having had enough, Wanda decides that if she can't have Agatha, no one else can, either.

[therizzler25]

Does anyone have any new fics or send me some, I also have some ideas if anyone wanted any..

[lost-on-t-umblr]

So uhm. Is anyone still interested in Harximoff as a ship? Because I was planning to write (and have actually already started) a fic on Agatha pining over Wanda, but it seems like most of you moved on to Rio Vidal? I really like the Wanda/Agatha dynamic, rather than just shipping Agatha per se, but I'm not sure a fic is worth publishing anymore?