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bestofmultiverse · 1 day ago

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Roses 🥀

Kathryn Hann x fem!florist!reader

A/N: Ive written it pretty drunk so idk what make sense at this point (I'm still pretty drunk)

Week 1

The market buzzed gently with life in the crisp morning air. It was early, the sun just beginning to cast its warm glow over the stalls. Y/N stood at her flower stand, dressed in her favorite comfortable jeans, her hair swept into a messy updo, with a few stray pieces rebelliously escaping the floral clip she’d used.

Vendors greeted each other as they set up their stands, the atmosphere familiar and friendly. Y/N chatted with Darren, the tall young man at the neighboring vegetable stand, who was enthusiastically recounting his latest adventure with his horse, Rhody.

Her attention, however, was soon caught by a sight that made her lose track of Darren’s words. A woman—possibly the most beautiful woman Y/N had ever seen—was walking through the market. Her long brown hair shimmered under the sunlight, and her radiant smile lit up the space around her. She wore oversized sunglasses, but even from a distance, her presence was magnetic.

Y/N’s breath caught when the woman paused in front of her stand, inspecting the flowers with an appreciative smile. Excusing herself from Darren with a quick word, Y/N approached her, offering one of her own dazzling smiles.

“Hey,” Y/N said softly, trying to sound casual.

The woman looked up and returned the greeting with a warm, “Hey.”

“I noticed you’ve been eyeing the white roses,” Y/N said, nodding toward the blooms. “They’re beautiful, aren’t they?”

The woman glanced at the flowers, then back at Y/N, her lips curving into a small smile. “They are,” she admitted.

“They symbolize purity, innocence, and new beginnings,” Y/N explained, her voice light but confident. “They’re one of my personal favorites.”

The woman’s smile deepened, and for a moment, Y/N thought she saw the faintest blush on her cheeks. “That feels fitting,” the woman said, her tone thoughtful. “New beginnings, I mean.”

Y/N tilted her head, intrigued. “Good for you,” she said, her own smile bright. “May I ask what it’s about?”

The woman hesitated before slipping off her sunglasses, revealing striking blue eyes that made Y/N’s heart skip a beat. She was breathtaking.

“I’m officially divorced,” the woman admitted, her voice tinged with relief. “The good part of that relationship ended a long time ago.”

Y/N nodded, her gaze softening. “I’m sorry it wasn’t what you deserved,” she said sincerely.

The woman laughed softly, the sound like music. “Well, it’s what I’m leaving behind that matters now.” Her eyes sparkled with a playful edge. “You always give life advice with your flowers?”

Y/N chuckled. “Only when I sense it’s needed,” she replied, her voice dropping into a teasing tone. “It’s a bonus that comes free with every bouquet.”

The woman smirked, tilting her head as if sizing Y/N up. “I like that.”

Y/N grinned, reaching for a bouquet of white roses and wrapping them carefully. Before handing it to the woman, she slipped a single red rose into the mix.

The woman raised an eyebrow, her lips curving. “And what does the red rose mean?”

Y/N held the bouquet out to her with a mysterious smile. “I’ll let you know when you come back next week.”

The woman took the bouquet, her fingers brushing against Y/N’s for the briefest moment. “Next week, huh? Confident, aren’t you?”

Y/N shrugged, her grin widening. “Let’s just say I have a good feeling.”

The woman laughed, her smile lingering

"Im y/n by the way"

"Kathryn" the woman said back before she walked away, leaving Y/N standing at her stand, feeling the warmth of the encounter linger long after she was gone.

Week Two

For the next week, Y/N found herself thinking about Kathryn more often than she cared to admit. She could still hear the soft cadence of Kathryn’s laugh, see the way her blue eyes sparkled when she teased her. It wasn’t the first time someone captivating had passed through her little flower stand, but there was something about Kathryn that lingered, an inexplicable pull she couldn’t shake.

By the time Friday rolled around, Y/N had spent an embarrassing amount of time rearranging her display. She told herself it was for the customers—it was spring, after all, and the flowers deserved to shine. But deep down, she knew she was hoping Kathryn might come back, though she had no real reason to expect her.

The morning passed quietly, filled with regulars buying their weekend blooms and Darren chatting her ear off about his horse yet again. But just as she started to convince herself she’d imagined the connection, there Kathryn was.

She walked through the market much the same as before, her stride confident and her hair catching the sunlight. This time, though, her smile seemed a little brighter when her eyes met Y/N’s.

“Hey there, stranger,” Kathryn greeted as she stopped in front of the stand. She was holding a coffee cup, which she raised in a small salute. “Miss me?”

Y/N leaned against the counter, her lips curving into a teasing grin. “Maybe a little,” she said smoothly. “Though I have to say, the roses you picked up last week looked a little lonely without you here to keep them company.”

Kathryn chuckled, setting her coffee down. “Well, I figured I’d stop by and see what you’ve got this time. Thought I might spoil myself again.”

“Good call,” Y/N replied. “Everyone deserves a little indulgence now and then.” She gestured to the display. “What’s the occasion this time? Another new beginning, or are we celebrating something else?”

Kathryn shrugged, her smile turning a little softer. “Maybe I just needed a reason to get out of the house. It’s been a weird week—quiet, but in a good way.”

Y/N nodded, sensing there was more to the story. “Well, I’m glad you came by. I was starting to think I’d scared you off with all my flower wisdom last time.”

“Oh, please,” Kathryn said, rolling her eyes with a playful smirk. “It takes more than that to scare me.” She paused, her gaze flicking over Y/N. “Besides, you’re fun to talk to. It’s nice… refreshing, even.”

Y/N felt a warmth rise in her chest but kept her tone light. “I’ll take that as a compliment. So, what are we feeling today? Bold? Romantic? A little mysterious, maybe?”

Kathryn laughed, leaning closer to the display as she examined the flowers. “You know, I think I’ll let you decide. You seem to have a knack for this.”

“Oh, dangerous move,” Y/N teased, already pulling together a bouquet. This time, she chose a mix of peonies, for healing and prosperity, and lavender, for peace and serenity. She finished it off with a single deep red rose, placing it prominently in the center.

Kathryn raised an eyebrow when she saw it. “You and these red roses,” she mused, her voice warm with amusement. “Are you going to keep me guessing forever, or do I finally get to know what it means?”

Y/N handed her the bouquet with a wink. “Patience, Kathryn. All good things in time.”

Kathryn shook her head, smiling as she tucked the flowers under her arm. “You’re something else, you know that?”

“I try,” Y/N said, grinning. “But seriously, if you ever need more flower wisdom—or just someone to talk to—you know where to find me.”

Kathryn hesitated for just a moment, then reached into her bag and pulled out a business card. “Here,” she said, handing it over. “In case I need a private consultation or something.”

Y/N took it, her fingers brushing against Kathryn’s as she did. “Noted,” she said softly, feeling that pull again, stronger this time.

Kathryn lingered a moment longer, her gaze steady but kind. “Thanks for the flowers,” she said, her voice quieter now. “And for… well, just being you.”

“Anytime,” Y/N replied, watching as Kathryn turned and walked away, leaving her with the lingering scent of lavender and the promise of something new.

Week Three

The days that followed Kathryn’s visit felt lighter somehow, as if her presence had left an invisible warmth in its wake. Y/N couldn’t stop herself from glancing at the little business card sitting on her counter, its edges slightly frayed from where her fingers had traced it absentmindedly.

By midweek, she decided to take a chance. Pulling out her phone, she stared at the number for a moment before typing a quick, casual message:

Hi, it’s Y/N, your personal florist 😊 Just wanted to check in and see how the flowers are holding up!

She stared at the screen for a beat too long, second-guessing herself, but before she could overthink it further, her phone buzzed with a reply.

Hey, Y/N. They’re beautiful, just like last time. You have quite the touch.

Y/N smiled at the response, feeling a little flutter in her chest. She quickly typed back.

Glad to hear that! Let me know when you’re ready for your next bouquet.

Kathryn’s reply came just as fast.

How about tomorrow? I could use a reason to step out again—and maybe some more of your flower wisdom.

Y/N’s heart did a little flip.

Tomorrow it is. Same time as last week?

Perfect.

The next morning, Y/N arrived at the market a little earlier than usual, taking extra care to set up her display. She arranged everything just so, the vibrant colors of tulips, daisies, and roses creating a cheerful splash against the wooden crates.

By the time Kathryn arrived, the market was already bustling. She walked up with her usual confident stride, her hair swept back in a loose braid and a light jacket slung over her shoulders. Y/N couldn’t help but admire how effortlessly she carried herself, a mix of ease and grace that was undeniably magnetic.

“Hey, Y/N,” Kathryn greeted with a smile that instantly brightened the morning.

“Hey, Kathryn,” Y/N replied, her own smile matching the warmth in Kathryn’s voice. “Here for more flower therapy?”

“Something like that,” Kathryn said with a chuckle. She leaned lightly on the counter, her blue eyes twinkling. “I’ve decided I’m going to make this a weekly tradition—though I’m pretty sure I just come for the company at this point.”

Y/N felt her cheeks flush, but she kept her composure. “Well, I’ll take that as a compliment. What are we celebrating this week?”

Kathryn shrugged, her expression thoughtful. “Not sure it’s a celebration, exactly. I’ve been spending a lot of time rediscovering what I like—figuring out who I am outside of that old chapter.”

“Sounds like a celebration to me,” Y/N said, her tone soft but earnest. “Starting fresh is always worth celebrating.”

Kathryn tilted her head, her smile growing. “You always know exactly what to say, don’t you?”

Y/N grinned. “Occupational hazard, I guess. Now, let’s find something that suits this new chapter of yours.”

As she worked, Y/N felt Kathryn’s gaze linger, warm and steady. She chose a bouquet of daisies for simplicity, yellow tulips for cheer, and added a few soft pink carnations for gratitude and admiration. To finish, she tucked in another single red rose, letting it stand out.

Kathryn noticed immediately, her lips curving into a sly smile. “Another red rose, huh? Are you ever going to tell me what they mean?”

Y/N handed over the bouquet with a playful grin. “You know you could just Google it if you really wanted to know.”

Kathryn chuckled, shaking her head. “I could, but where’s the fun in that? Besides,” she added, her voice dipping slightly, “I have a feeling it’s worth the wait.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, and she quickly looked down, busying herself with arranging the paper wrapping around the bouquet. “You’re dangerous, Kathryn,” she muttered with a laugh, unable to hide her own growing smile.

Kathryn leaned a little closer, her tone teasing but warm. “You have no idea.”

Y/N handed over the bouquet, their fingers brushing again, and looked up to find Kathryn’s eyes fixed on her, soft but searching.

“Well,” Y/N said, her voice steadier than she felt, “if you ever feel like waiting isn’t your thing, you know where to find me.”

Kathryn’s smile deepened, and she tucked the bouquet close to her chest. “I think I’ll enjoy the suspense for now,” she replied lightly, though her gaze lingered for just a moment longer.

“Thanks for this,” she added as she stepped back, the bouquet in one hand and her coffee in the other. “And for making my mornings a little brighter.”

“Anytime,” Y/N said softly, watching as Kathryn turned and walked away, her braid swaying lightly with each confident step. As the crowd shifted and swallowed her figure, Y/N found herself already looking forward to the next week—and whatever surprises Kathryn might bring.

Week Four

The next week, Y/N found herself waiting for Friday with a kind of nervous energy she hadn’t felt in years. She spent her mornings distracted, her evenings restless, and by the time the day arrived, she could barely focus on her usual tasks.

She tried to tell herself it was just another Friday at the market, but the thought of seeing Kathryn again made her heart race in a way she couldn’t ignore.

The day unfolded much like the previous ones, with the usual flow of customers and Darren’s cheerful chatter in the background. But when Kathryn appeared, weaving her way through the busy market, the whole scene seemed to slow.

She wore a light blue blouse that perfectly complemented her eyes, her hair loose and catching the breeze. She had that same confident stride, but this time, there was something softer about her expression, something warmer.

“Hey there,” Kathryn greeted as she approached the stand, her smile as radiant as ever. “I hope I’m not interrupting.”

“Not at all,” Y/N replied, her own smile spreading naturally across her face. “You’re right on time, actually. I just got in some new flowers I think you’ll love.”

Kathryn set her coffee cup down on the counter, her gaze lingering on Y/N. “You always know how to make a girl feel special.”

Y/N laughed lightly. “Just doing my job. So, what’s the occasion this time? Let me guess—another step in the new chapter?”

Kathryn tilted her head, her smile turning a little sly. “Actually, I was thinking about starting a whole new story.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Oh? And what kind of story are we talking about here?”

“The kind where I stop beating around the bush and ask you if you’d like to go out with me,” Kathryn said, her voice calm but her eyes sparkling with something playful, something hopeful.

Y/N blinked, caught completely off guard. “Wait, are you serious?” she asked, though the grin tugging at her lips betrayed her surprise.

“Dead serious,” Kathryn replied, leaning lightly against the counter. “I know it’s a bit unconventional, but I figured, why not? You’re charming, you’re kind, and you seem to have this uncanny ability to make me smile every time I see you.”

Y/N’s cheeks flushed, but she didn’t look away. “Wow. I mean, I’m flattered. Really flattered. But I thought I was the one supposed to be smooth here.”

Kathryn laughed, the sound rich and genuine. “Don’t worry—you’re still winning in that department.”

Y/N glanced down at the flowers in front of her, a soft smile playing on her lips. “Okay,” she said finally, looking back up at Kathryn. “I’d love to go out with you.”

Kathryn’s smile grew, her eyes lighting up. “Really? I was half-expecting you to turn me down just to keep me guessing.”

“Oh, don’t worry,” Y/N teased, her confidence returning. “I’m sure I’ll keep you guessing plenty on the actual date.”

Kathryn laughed again, shaking her head. “I have no doubt, I’ll text you tonight to figure out when we can make this happen.”

“Looking forward to it,” Y/N said softly, her eyes lingering on Kathryn’s.

As Kathryn picked up her coffee and bouquet, she paused, glancing at the flowers Y/N had been arranging. “No red rose this time?” she asked teasingly.

Y/N grinned. “Nope. I’m saving that for the date.”

Kathryn’s laughter filled the space between them, light and warm. “You’re impossible,” she said, but her smile betrayed just how much she enjoyed it.

With a final glance, Kathryn turned and walked away, leaving Y/N standing behind the counter with a heart full of anticipation and a grin she couldn’t shake.

And as the market buzzed around her, Y/N found herself already counting down the hours until their next meeting.

Week 5

Y/N sat across from Kathryn in the cozy, candlelit restaurant, the evening stretching out like a perfect melody. Conversation flowed effortlessly, Kathryn’s laughter bubbling over at Y/N’s quick-witted remarks, and Y/N finding herself leaning in closer as the night wore on.

The single red rose, nestled in the center of their table, seemed to glow in the warm light, catching Kathryn’s eye once again. She tilted her head, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Alright, Y/N,” Kathryn said, her voice soft but teasing. “You promised me no more guessing. Are you finally going to tell me what the red rose means, or are we keeping this a mystery forever?”

Y/N hesitated, her confidence flickering just enough to make her cheeks flush. She reached for the rose, her fingers brushing its delicate petals as she carefully avoided Kathryn’s gaze. “It, uh… it symbolizes love and passion,” she admitted quietly, her usual bravado giving way to something more vulnerable.

Kathryn’s smile widened as she leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with mischief. “Love and passion, huh?” she echoed, her tone light but her gaze steady. “That’s quite the statement for a first date.”

Y/N chuckled nervously, her cheeks growing even warmer. “I mean, it doesn’t have to mean anything. It’s just… I thought it suited you.”

Kathryn’s laughter was soft and low, a sound that sent a shiver down Y/N’s spine. “You’re sweet,” she said, her voice dipping into something a little huskier. She picked up the rose, twirling it slowly between her fingers as she watched Y/N. “But you know, passion can mean a lot of things.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the subtle shift in Kathryn’s tone. She swallowed hard, her voice coming out a touch more uncertain than she’d intended. “Yeah? Like what?”

Kathryn leaned in just enough to close the distance between them, her blue eyes locked on Y/N’s. “Oh, I don’t know,” she said, her smile turning sly. “It could mean staying up all night talking… or something else entirely.”

Y/N felt her stomach flip, her mind racing at Kathryn’s implication. She cleared her throat, trying to play it cool despite the blush creeping up her neck. “I guess it depends on the company,” she managed, her voice soft but steady.

Kathryn’s grin widened, and she reached out to brush a stray strand of hair from Y/N’s face, the gesture so casual yet so intimate it made Y/N’s breath hitch. “Well,” Kathryn murmured, her tone warm and teasing, “I’d say the company tonight is pretty exceptional.”

Y/N laughed, a nervous but delighted sound, as Kathryn leaned back, her expression softening. “You’re impossible,” Y/N said, shaking her head but unable to hide her smile.

“And yet, you seem to like me anyway,” Kathryn replied with a wink. She placed the rose carefully back on the table, her fingers lingering on the stem for just a moment. “Thank you—for the flowers, for tonight, for… everything.”

Y/N nodded, her smile growing as she mustered her courage. “Anytime. And I mean that.”

Kathryn’s gaze lingered on her for a moment longer before she stood, her movements graceful and deliberate. She bent down, pressing a soft kiss to Y/N’s cheek, her lips warm and lingering just enough to make Y/N’s pulse quicken.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” Kathryn whispered, her voice low and filled with promise. “And thank you for being… bold.”

As Kathryn walked away, the red rose still resting on the table, Y/N couldn’t help but smile to herself. Whatever the future held, one thing was certain: Kathryn was every bit as extraordinary as Y/N had imagined—and then some.

#kathryn hahn #agatha harkness #agatha x rio #agatha harkness x rio vidal #agathario #agatha all along #agatha harkness x reader #kathryn hann x reader

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starshipsofstarlord · 3 years ago

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Agatha All Along - Agatha Harkness x witchhunter!reader

Masterlist Link

Word count - 2964

Summary | as a friend of Blade, whilst he hunts monsters, you focus on ending the witches of old that have come to ruin the future. Agatha Harkness happens to be one of them, but she isn’t running into your trap, it’s the other way around

Warnings | mentions of killing, swearing, smut, non con (please do not read if triggering), rape, this is a dark fic, strap on use

"I'm going to catch this witch bitch for once and for all, she's bringing damned demons onto the planet and disguising them as pets! I can't say if she's carrying out one of Mephisto's plans, or going off her own magical scale of horse shit, but she's doing some bad. It is my intent to invoke quite a ruckus upon that evil woman, she will excerpt her power until she looks like the old pensioner that she-"

"Hey!" Whistler cut you off, a frown furrowing in his grey brows, pointing a creased finger at you. "Do not compare a thing like that in reference to a man like me. They aren't human, they are pesters that endanger the surface of our world, threatening to overtake it and use us as they slaves- or their food."

"Take less offence old man." Blade chortled in, as the vampire slayer flashed a bleach white smile, "and from all the knowledge that I have, you don't claim a pension. You hardly know where your account in the bank is, because it suffers from a lack of existence. Let y/n/n kill that godforsaken witch, one less threat to the dimension."

"I suppose there's that." The wrinkled hunter spoke, quirking his head in epitomising thought. "Now, about Harkness, I got somethin' to help you knick her with, got to slow that broom riding, karma inducing, pollen poisoning, female sorceress."

"Witches don't actually ride brooms." You rolled your eyes at his stereotypical description, crossing your arms as you crawled up to sit on the messy workman's table. "And 'm gonna need somethin' that'll do a little more than knickin' to that ally of demon spawn."

"Show her what you got Whistler." Blade nodded his head, hinting for the male to reveal the prospect inducing agony that said man had been spending amounts of time working on. Whistler grabbed a folding of cloth from a rusted toolbox, he unravelled the surrounding material, showcasing the ultimate weapon to your murderess eyes.

"A dagger. Cool." You shrugged, taking it from his hard working hands, and fiddling with it in your own. "Is that it, because I mean, no offence, but I'm not sure that this is going to stick it to her, if you get my gist." In reference, you stabbed the air with the moderate weapon, finding nothing irregular about the blade. It reflected the same, and had a sharp end, that was all that you noted from your analysis.

"Not just a dagger." Whistler corrected you, "The Egyptians that wanted to had devised many plans to kill Drake had made silver daggers, infected with the blood of those he had turned to spite his soul. This is one of them, or at least, a new model. It sent him to sleep, and if it doesn't work on the witch, then go for her power source."

"I am not murdering an avenger." That would be a jurisdiction against the honour of the infamous assemble of heroins, that fought the dangers from outside worlds, but not the real monsters that lurked upon their own. They were blindly oblivious to the knowledge of vampires that contrasted heavily against those on tv, and witches that manipulated the minds of the vulnerable, casting spells to endure farther righteousness in their vengeful hierarchies.

"Some may say you'd be doing her a favour. She's discombobulated with grief; hell, she brought a whole new reality into Jersey, all because she could not handle her own suffering. That is called chaos magic y/n, and that's dangerous for us all."

"That may be so, but Agatha is the target here, not some poor woman who doesn't even know what she is. I can help her after I rid the salem spawn from the confines of her transformed town, but now, she is the danger, my contact told me so. He's working on getting into the Maximoff girl's mind, and that leaves me with the bounty of only one witch's head."

"Whose this contact?" Blade asked you, as he rested the bottom of his spine against a mechanic table, crossing his arms as he bit his lip, awaiting an answer. It wasn't a secret that you had informants dotted around the globe, it was an optical necessity on your part, there were dangers every where. After Frost had stated that his objective was to bring an end to the freedom of humanity, you had found it to be a permanent need to find someone who understood the threats that gods like La Magra possessed, as well as many other species that could invade the spinning wheel of normal life.

"A protecter of our reality, a sorcerer supreme that has one objective, which is to ensure that our time line does not become warped, it is his duty to keep it all in check. His name is Strange."

"He certainly sounds strange." Retorted the daywalker, laughing lightly and dryly through his stark teeth.

"No; his name, it is Strange." You persisted with the fact, whilst weighing the weapon in your hand. "You sure this is gonna work Whistler?" A part of you was worried for what could happen if he wasn't, a shrug exploited off from his shoulders as a response, putting a bitter taste in your mouth as you bit down on the inside flesh within your mouth. "Because I have a bad feeling that it isn't..."

Harkness had to be beyond the sign that stated that you were entering Westview. You were cautious with doing so, for a lack of people had managed to retrace their steps outside of the town, but you were a fighter. You could not be corrupted by the force that possessed others to stay within the invisible borders of the town, could you?

It was a danger if you willingly allowed yourself to succumb to the forces of enchanted nature by stepping inside of the chaos, nothing would be resolved if your mind was boggled with, persuaded to remain within the area of influence, reduced to nothing more than a character in a realistic charade.

"You think you can help Wanda? Ha!" A voice hurtled you into shock, as you turned in the opposite direction of the town borders, seeing a woman that was clothed in average clothes, that would be if it were still the 70s! "I'm sorry hun, that is just humorous. If you ask me, little witchy woo in there has gone a little bonkers, she even crafted a version of her dead lover."

"Grief does unimaginable things to the mind, but I'm sure no one will be there to grieve you, Harkness." In reply to your easy analysis of her neighbourly portrayal, she was quick to be fixed as the antagonising suspect in your eye. She knew you were here, and not to mention, she had came from inside the inter-dimensional walls, that Wanda had uplifted in response to needing to protect her own version of the Vision.

"You're funny kitten, I might just keep you around, you could end up being a chew toy for Señor Scratchy." Agatha poked her index finger towards you, a maleficent expression endorsed upon her conniving face. "Don't you want to ask me how I knew you were here; hm, what should I call you?"

"How about your end?" You spitefully spoke back, restraining your attack for a moment longe, for she was clearly expecting you to do something. "You're not the first witch I've killed, nor will you be the last. You will simply be one of them, another member of the dead coven committee." A cackle burst from her throat as she clasped at her chest; she had caught onto you, the schtick was up, and your true self was revealed to her untrustworthy pools of sight.

"Well for a hunter, don't you look like a delicious peach?" Whipping your head around, you clasped your blade that Whistler had conceived with the blood of a vampire, and a structure of rich silver. It was Agatha Harkness, the Salem witch who was in lurking in the make believe town of Westview, skulking into the mind of an avenger, and poisoning Wanda's mourning. She had spun around in your optimal surroundings, she was scraping into the corners of your mind.

One moment she had been on one side of you, and now she had appeared to the other; such the mysterious woman, but not the ideal one whom you often dreamt about in the bleak shadow of your sultry slumber, the figure would lull you from your sleep with forces stronger than magic.

"Harkness." The name, succumbed by a rigid spell of hatred, rumbled off your lips with a stern growl, as you finally saw the old hag, posed in her glorified magnificence of her true self. There were purple robes, as musky in tone as the petals on a dahlia, curling around her morbid silhouette like a wisp of visible and poisonous air. "Do you not have anything better to do than meddle with the victims of loss, all you want to do is make them loose so much more of themselves through your greed and damned betrayal to your own kind."

"Is that a dagger; oh no, I'm terrified." She mockingly gasped, her clouded eyes, rounded by the dark beige concealing her under eyes, squinting towards you, as her hands clasped her own cheeks, as her mouth mockingly circled open. "That is practically a nail file, perhaps you need to learn how witches really work. We are quite... difficult to intrigue, it takes some time to revel our interest in a person."

"So what, because of Wanda's powers, you are skulking around to take them for yourself. You are, you're hungry for that power, aren't you? You want to take it, condone yourself to a limitless supply of magic at your whim, like every other maddened, psychotic, dangerous summoner of the beyond. You've brought demons to this realm, endangering every living species on this planet, risking everything that exists, but at what cost I have to ask?"

"She's the scarlet witch!" She hissed towards you, enforcing you to freeze, having read about a being so powerful before. It was to be a nightmare if what she said was true, such a rouse of inclined magic, repressed by the subjective and untrained skill that coursed relatively through the veins of the foretold sorceress. "A being capable of spontaneous combustion!"

"I will handle her, but first..." to commence the end of your sentence, you thrust yourself towards her, Whistler's weapon directed at her, it was now or ever. You had thought her guard was down, dropped as you discussed the ruin that the so called scarlet witch was exhibiting, but it was a large mistake on your part. You'd always been smarter than that, however you felt spurred to do it.

It wasn't certain whether she had nudged you with her abilities to do so, or it was just the fact that you were desperate to kill her, but as you readied to pierce her with the tip of the small spear, her cold hand wrapped forcefully around your wrist, her nails digging into the skin, creating crescent shapes into the flesh of your arm. "How will you be able to handle her when you can't handle me?" She laughed exaggeratedly, throwing her head back in amusement.

"Let me go." Growling at her, you instinctively dropped the weapon, her grip forcing you to release the dagger, as you wheezed at the harsh and aggressive touch that she exhibited. "Darned witch; let me fucking go you hag!" She sent you a deceiving smile as she bent your arm back, and then, after she did so, everything went deeply back, ushering into a blank world of pitch surroundings.

When consciousness welcomes you to return to the present, you were floating, your body was embarrassingly bare, and you had been stripped of all weapons that you had been carrying. You were wantonly left completely exposed to and by the witch that you had sought out, foolishly by yourself. If only Blade had came with you, then you'd have at least stood somewhat of a chance against the wicked witch, having the ability to avoid this predicament, and most importantly be clothed.

It looked as though you were trapped in a basement, there were runes enriched upon the shadowy walls, levitating in a trapped abyss, and then you heard it; the symphony of mindless humming, and the trail of enclosing footsteps. She had returned to watch her prey writhe in the invisible restraints that she had propelled you up with, and you're struggling did a rather decent job at amusing the witch.

"If you had agreed to help me best Wanda, you wouldn't be in this position." She remarked slyly, putting all blame of your predicament on you. Her hands roamed through the air, and you stiffened as her fingertips traces down the bareness of your inner thigh, tensing so hard that your muscles hurt. If only Doctor Strange had the ability to tell when a singular person was in grave danger, rather than the whole world, you'd have some hope, but there was none left running through your veins. They were empty of a will to fight, this time, you had became the prey of the hunt that you had commenced.

And by the heavens, did you certainly feel like a feeble and vulnerable creature, trapped in the vengeful claws of a threatening animal, taken into its hearth so that it could feed on you from the comforts of its home. That's what Agatha wanted; to feel you at her mercy, to have you deterred by the method of her sullen madness, and be on the recoiling end of your speared hunt. "That's all? Because I don't think you would stop once you reduce her to nothing but an empty vessel for stolen power. Let me go, you putrid fool, and stop touching me dammit!"

She hardly reacted to your words, instead slipping her sick and deranged fingers through your slit, making you whimper externally as you felt tears prick your eyes. You'd rather she kill you instead of taking absolute advantage of your cowering form, at least then you'd need not suffer from the lack of consent that you evoked. Agatha tutted at your self veiled persona, finding your clit and rubbing the bud, making you revel your head back, squeeze your eyes concernedly closed, and containing the vomit that was threatening to spew from your mouth.

"But dear, now I have to take my bloated frustration out on you." The witch spoke as though she were disappointed to do so, but she didn't have to, it was a deep rooted sense that she indirectly wanted to. Agatha hoisted you down with her abilities, making you whimper lewdly as your knees crumpled against the ground, a dire scathing prompting upon the flesh, as you tried to conduct yourself backwards, but you were invisibly restrained there against your controlled will.

"Please. No." You begged the sorceress, but she seemed not to have a musing of care. "You don't have to do this; I'll leave, I'll stop hunting, just please, let me go and we will never cross paths again." It relented as a cry, a plead for escape and retribution, however she served you with no pity, instead she stalked closer, unbuttoning her neighbourly slacks and revealed a monster that had your eyes daunted by the sight. It was a large strap on, one that she was clearly thinking about condemning usage upon you.

"We know that is a fib of all fibs." She laughed, grasping the shaft of the lilac plastic in her hand, stroking it to get a rise of fear out from you. "Come here." She slid you closer, reaching down to preen your legs open, and get a spread view of your whimpering cunt. She hummed, licking her lips as she began to push the toy cock into you, watching as you attempted to fight her methods off, but it was no use. You were just a specimen of mankind, and she were an ancient magician, able to compose your structure to her very wish.

And she did not want you to enjoy this, she wanted you to be betrothed in supple pain, and you were as she began to roughly thrust the poised cock inside of you, making you mewl out for help, and render beneath her dominance. "Stop, please!" She covered your mouth with her hand, containing your noises of suggested lack of consent. Agatha roused her other hand to grasp your breast, her hips clashed rudely against your own, bringing further torture upon your body. It was a cruel medication to be her victim, and it made you terminally ill to feel yourself cum around her strap on.

Your abused cunt was undergoing a war, there was so much suffering, and thus, when she finally withdrew, it was an immense relief. "Now if you don't mind," Agatha stood, disguising herself once more as the gossiping neighbour, Agnes, "I have a scarlet witch to undermine." She was doing a fair job so well, and once she abandoned you, you tried to escape, but your body was proven a due of such harm and digress.

Hours later, a kicking to the door stirred you from your slumber. For the first time that day, you were relieved to see a friendly face. "Blade." You spoke, watching as he hurried towards you, wrapping you in his coat and nurtured you, allowing you to sob against him. The witches could get on with their rivalry, you were his priority, but he would end them afterwards for causing you such rendering harkness in the darkness.

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