#or should i say agnes of westview

[yelenaslightchangeofplan]

it's fine they're just in their reputation era

[covenofagatha]

I'm a good girl, Detective

You're a prostitute in the town of Westview and maybe Detective Agnes needs to teach you a lesson.

Word count: 1750

Warnings: Rough sex, spitting, spanking, Top Agatha, Bratty Bottom Reader, fingering, prostitution, sex with men mentioned

“What can I do for you, baby?” you say in a sultry voice. The man in the car in front of you gulps excitedly. 

“Blowjob?” he asks, hands shaking on the steering wheel. It’s clear to you that he’s never done this before. You spot the wedding ring tucked in the cupholder in the middle console. “Is that how this works? It’s my first time doing this, sorry.” 

You sweetly smile. “I can do that. It’ll be $100.” 

If the price seems high to him, he doesn’t let on. He must be desperate. “Oh, sure, yeah. Do I pay now or…” 

“Half up front, half after.” 

“Right,” he says, reaching into his pocket to bring his wallet. “I’m guessing you only take cash?” 

It’s a feeble attempt to hide how nervous he is. You don’t even dignify the question with an answer, only a quick nod. 

He’s pulling out a $50 bill when all of a sudden, a siren goes off, lights flashing in your face. 

“Fuck!” he says, hurriedly shoving the money back into his wallet and peeling out of the parking lot because the police car can pull up beside you.

You chuckle to yourself and lift your hand in a greeting, wagging your fingers playfully. The window rolls down. 

“Detective Harkness,” you drawl. “Come to blow off a little steam?” 

It’s a familiar game the two of you have been playing for a little over a month now. She always manages to find you right in the act of accepting money for sexual services – illegal in Westview – and puts you in her squad car to take you back to your apartment. Everytime she tells you that if she catches you again, she’s throwing you in jail for the night, but everytime, she pulls right up to your complex and throws you out. 

Her glare is heated as she steps out of her car. Her blue flannel has two buttons open and it’s tucked into her navy pants. Her long brown hair is pulled back into a ponytail. 

“What can I do for you, Agnes?” you flirt. You like to poke and prod at the tightly-wound older woman, secretly hoping that one day, she’ll take you up on your offer. 

“I told you last time, if I caught you doing this again…” she mutters in her gruff voice, grabbing you by the elbow and leading you over to the other side of the car. 

“He hadn’t even given me any money yet,” you pout. “We could’ve been old friends just catching up. No need to be jealous, Officer.”

“That’s Detective to you,” she shoots back. She yanks open the passenger door and shoves you inside. 

For some reason, she never puts you in the back. 

“Ya know, it seems like you’ve been frequenting this side of town lately. Hoping to run into me?” you say, enjoying the way her jaw tightens. 

“More like hoping to save all your poor men from wasting money on a cheap lay,” she says bitingly. 

You gasp mockingly. “I’m not cheap! And I wouldn’t say they’re wasting money. You should see the things I can do with my tongue.” You wiggle said tongue out at her and note the way her cheeks pink ever the slightest. “I can show you, if you’d like.” 

She glances at you and then turns back to face the road. 

“I could make you feel so good,” you whisper, daring to reach a hand over to put it on her thigh. She tenses and her grip tightens on the steering wheel. 

“Get your hand off me,” she growls. You run your fingers up her leg softly before obeying, not missing the way her breath catches. 

And then you realize that instead of turning left, which is the way to your apartment, she goes straight. 

“Wait, where are we going? Why, Detective, are we going back to your place?” 

She laughs meanly. “I’m finally doing what I should’ve done the second time I caught you on the street. You’re spending the night in a cell, so maybe you’ll think twice about going back out there.” 

Well, fuck. If that’s how it’s going to be, you might as well go big or go home. “But, Detective, I’m a good girl. Let me show you how good I can be.” 

You lean over and press a kiss to her jawbone. Her hands on the wheel falter and she inhales sharply. 

“What are you–”

You slide your hand back on her thigh and nibble on her earlobe. “Let me make you feel good. You deserve it.” 

Agnes’s breathing has quickened and she swallows hard. “This isn’t appropriate,” she says, but it sounds weak, even to her. 

“Do you want me to stop?” Your hand is trailing higher, unbuttoning her pants. You dip your fingertips inside them and the car comes to a stop with a screech. 

“Get out now,” she demands, slamming the car into park. She steps out and stomps over to your side. 

“Agnes, I’m sorry, I didn’t–” You’re afraid you’ve completely fucked up. 

She yanks you out of the car, spins you around, and presses you against the car. The older woman presses her body against yours. 

“Is this what you wanted?” she hisses in your ear. “You want me to fuck you like the slut that you are?”

You can’t help the moan that escapes from your mouth.

“You think acting like a brat will get you what you want?” 

The next thing you know, she slaps your ass. You jump, feeling the pain give way to pleasure. In all of your time as a prostitute, you’ve never even been close to feeling this turned on, and all she did was spank you. 

“I asked you a question and I want an answer,” Agnes says dangerously. Her hand hikes up your skirt and soothes the red skin. “Unless you want me to do that again.” 

You do, so you don’t say anything. Slap. This time, without your skirt as a barrier, it hurts even more deliciously and you groan. 

“I just wanted you,” you finally say. 

“You keep saying you’re a good girl, but all I see is a spoiled fucking little brat,” she taunts, spanking you during each of the last four words. 

You’re squirming against her, desperate to feel her hands on you again. “Yes, that’s me,” you gasp out. 

“You’re so desperate for someone to take control of you,” she murmurs, tracing her hands over your asscheeks. “You’re so pathetic, needing a woman twice your age to teach you how to be good.” 

“Show me, please,” you beg. “Aggie, please touch me.” 

She flips you around and roughly grabs your throat, a raw moan clawing out from you. Her thigh slots between your legs.

She scoffs. “Of course you’d like that.” A finger forces your mouth open and she leans down and spits into your mouth. “Swallow.” Your brain short-circuits and she nods approvingly as you obey. “So you can follow directions. Maybe there’s hope for you yet.”

You whimper, grinding on her leg, trying to get all the stimulation you can. You dig your nails into her shoulders so you can get better leverage.

She laughs cruelly. “Look at you, humping my leg like a bitch in heat. I should just leave you here, dripping and unsatisfied. That’d teach you a lesson better than any night in jail would.” 

Your movements stutter and you shake your head insistently. “No, please don’t.” 

Agnes’s grip tightens on your throat and she grasps your hip with her other hand, helping you grind.

“Aggie, I need more,” you choke out. You’re already so close, but you don’t think you can cum from just this. You need to feel her. 

“Aww, the poor slut wants more,” she taunts. In a flash, she moves your underwear to the side and buries two fingers inside you up to the hilt. You bite on your lip so hard you taste blood and you keen. 

“Fuck!” you exclaim sharply as her fingers twist and thrust roughly. Her palm is harshly bumping against your clit with every push.

“Is that good enough for you?” she jeers. You moan your approval. “Do those men fuck you like this? Do they make you feel this way?” 

Your hands scramble on the back of her flannel, trying to pull her even closer to your body. 

“No, no one but you! I’m gonna cum, Aggie.” 

Her fingers stop, still inside you. You whine and keep moving your hips around them, desperate not to lose the stimulation. “Do you think you deserve it?” she whispers hotly. A tear threatens to fall from your eye. 

“I’ll do anything,” you promise. “Just, please, let me cum.” 

A wicked glint lights up her eyes and she resumes fucking you hard. Her nails dig into your throat from where she’s still choking you. “Not so cocky now, are you, brat?” 

“You’re the one who’s two fingers deep in the prostitute she keeps picking up off the street,” you manage to retort. “I’m feeling pretty good.” 

She chuckles lowly and suddenly pulls out of you. 

“No,” you gasp. 

She steps back, corners of her mouth turned up. “And you’re the one who’s not going to get what she wants.” 

You gape at her, shocked. She sways back to the other side of the car and gets in, looking at you, frozen, through the window. 

“Are you coming?” 

You open the passenger door and get in. “Not anymore,” you grumble. She pouts mockingly and swats your hand away when she sees you moving to touch yourself. 

“Don’t even think about it.” 

Your fingers twitch the entire drive, your stomach still burning, wondering if she’s actually taking you to the station. She’s definitely not driving in the direction of your apartment. 

You sulk the entire drive until she parks in front of a house. You turn to look at her, eyebrows raising. She acts normal and exits the car, waiting for you. 

“Where are we?” you ask. She doesn’t answer, just leads you inside. 

She suddenly stops in front of you once you’ve gotten to the living room and you bump into her, muttering an apology. She turns around and tangles a hand into your hair, slowly pushing you down to your knees. 

“Agnes?” 

She smirks. “Why don’t you put that mouth of yours to good use and show me the ‘things you can do with your tongue’. And then maybe, I’ll think about rewarding you.” 

------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Part 2?

[multimilfs]

Agnes O'Connor x Fem!Reader: Beginning & End

Summary: Taking a late drive to get your mind off a few things, you get more than you bargained for from a not-so-routine traffic stop.

AO3

A/N: Wasn't sure how to tag this since Agnes is technically an Agatha... variant? persona? Also I didn't tag the Agatha taglist since this isn't technically Agatha? tricky tricky... This is basically just pure smut with a sprinkle of plot.. enjoy xoxo (also let me know if you want more of Agnes?)

Words: 6.2k

Included: Established relationship, Jealousy, Smut; choking, spitting, bdsm, possession, semi-public sex, car sex, fingering, cunnilingus, daddy kink, roleplaying, power dynamics, dom/sub, teasing, begging

Tag List: @escapetodreamworld @ghostsunderstoodmysoul @multifandomfix

You sigh as you lean into the leather seat. The music is loud enough to hurt, but you don’t turn the volume down, glad of the noise even if you don’t feel like singing along. Trees fly by outside the window as you drive. 

A sign passes in a flash but you catch the number; 45. Your speedometer reads 55. 

Making sure you’re alone on the road, you push it to 57 just for kicks. Even as the dark scenes on either side pass in a blur, the road ahead is clear. The moon hangs low and bright above, reflecting off the filled-in parts of the pavement. 

The song changes and you sigh again upon hearing the familiar tune. It only reminds you of your wife; who should be home and in bed with you, but ended up on night-shift instead after hassling a suspect a bit too hard, canceling your planned evening. 

Which leads you to driving the backroads between Westview and Eastview, hoping the journey will tire you out enough that you can sleep. Instead it lands you in the position of blowing past a hidden cop. 

Just your luck. 

You groan as you turn the music down and pull off the road into a flat area of grass. With the lights, you can’t tell if it's a Westview or Eastview officer at first. You have pretty good chances of getting off with a warning if it's one of Agnes’ coworkers. 

But it’s not one of the regular officers. It’s the Chief’s car. You hit your head against the steering wheel. He’s been riding Agnes’ ass for months and will likely give you a hefty ticket just to spite her. 

While you’re hitting your head against the wheel, there’s a knock on your window. You roll it down without looking, “Look, Chief, I know the deal. You can just write me a ticket and I’ll pay it tomorrow.” 

“Oh, will you now?” 

You pause. 

Looking up in disbelief, “Agnes?” 

“That’s Detective O’Connor to you.” Her face doesn’t change from the stern facade, “You were driving pretty recklessly back there. Have you been drinking tonight, ma’am?” 

Subtly as you can manage, you check your side mirror to see if anyone else sits in the police cruiser. It wouldn’t be unlike the Chief to put Agnes through some insane test. No shadows lurk in the other car. 

You drag your eyes back to Agnes. She’s waiting, still just as stoic, but you see the mischief in her eyes. Well, if she wants to play, why not up the stakes?

Tilting your head and smiling, “Of course not, detective. I’ve been a good girl.” 

A split-second pause tells you she wasn’t expecting that. She licks her lips before the act slips back into place. She scoffs. 

“That’s what they all say. Wait here.” Her hand pats the open window before she’s heading back toward the cruiser. 

You watch her walk away in the side mirror with a grin. Her confident gait stirs something in you, always has. 

For a split second you consider throwing the car in drive and peeling out of here. You’re curious to see what Agnes would do. You hope she’d chase you all the way home; that way when you get there you could finally have a taste of what tonight was meant to be. 

You want Agnes painfully. Between work deadlines on your end and long hours on hers, you’ve been too tired to do more than cuddle, or some heavy kissing on a better day. You miss the connection that comes from baring yourselves to one another. And the orgasms, too, of course. 

Agnes is back at your window, breathalyzer in hand. You make a split second decision. 

“Please, detective, I can’t afford another ticket, and my wife will be so mad.” You plead, using that innocent, wide-eyed expression you know turns her on, “Is there anything I can do to… pay it off, per se?” 

To her credit, she doesn’t crack this time, “Are you soliciting an officer of the law, ma’am?” 

“No, of course not! Unless that’s what you want.” 

“Step out of the car.” 

The commanding note in her voice goes straight between your thighs. You open the door and step out, watching her brows raise at only the long nightgown you’re wearing. There’s a chill in the air that makes you shiver. Her eyes are drawn to your chest before she shakes away whatever is going through her mind. 

While you’re enjoying the game, you do hope she’ll let you get back in the car soon. The cold is unmanageable without more substantial clothing. 

Agnes holds up the breathalyzer, “Open your mouth.” 

You do so without thinking. A blush races up your face. Agnes can’t help but smirk. 

It’s not the breathalyzer that finds itself between your lips, but two fingers that settle on your tongue and press. You jolt at the pressure. Tears come to your eyes as you gag, but the weight of her fingers doesn’t ebb. You fight against your gag reflex to curl your tongue around the digits. 

Closing your lips around them, you swirl your tongue like one would around a piece of candy. Even through blurred vision you can see how Agnes’ eyes darken. She leans forward, staring at your lips. 

Her fingers move deeper, pressing harder, fucking your throat. You swallow around them. 

You find your mouth and throat empty as Agnes pulls out. Her hand grabs your face before you can close your mouth and holds it open, fingers wet against your cheek. She grins meanly. 

“Stick out your tongue.” 

The second you do, Agnes spits in your mouth. You whimper. It’s humiliating and you feel yourself clench around nothing. You leave your tongue in the position she demanded, obedient as ever. 

Agnes laughs, “Swallow.” 

Humiliation, in combination with your startling need for her touch, forces the tears to spill over and down your cheeks. The sight of them seems to please her. She’s always loved seeing you thoroughly debased; loves knowing only she can break you down like this. 

Partners in the past did try. Yet they would hesitate, hold back, believing they knew the limits of your desire instead of trusting you. A few would panic when they saw tears in your eyes and pull out of the scene completely. You often found yourself pretending; toning down your desires to ‘acceptable’ levels and leaving yourself unsatisfied to avoid that worried look in your partner’s eyes. 

But you’ve never had to pretend with Agnes. From that first time, she went as far as she wanted, knowing that you were an adult capable of safe-wording if it was too much; it wasn’t. You had been dripping and needy the entire time. You had cried while she sat back and watched you polish her boots with your tongue, and had nearly come undone from the act alone. It was everything you craved—Agnes was everything you craved; trusting, dominating, cruel when it suited, and the most loving partner you’ve ever known. 

You had vowed then and there that you weren’t letting her get away. And how lucky for you that she put a ring on your finger; the ring that is so much more than a symbol of love; but a brand, too, just as you desire. 

“I wonder what your wife would think of you offering yourself up to me,” Agnes muses, “but you’re so eager for it, I can’t help but wonder if she’s not satisfying you properly.” 

“Only you can satisfy me, detective.” You flutter your lashes. 

That draws a real laugh from her. Something inside you preens. You lean forward into Agnes’ space, angling your head for a kiss, but she pulls back. 

“Be that as it may, soliciting an officer is a crime, as is reckless driving.” Her hands reach for her belt, where her handcuffs rest in one of the holsters, “I’m going to have to take you in.” 

Though the idea of being cuffed and fucked however she pleases excites you, you’re not entirely pleased with how your original plan was ruined. Agnes knew where the line was during interrogations and she crossed it. Knowingly. It’s safe to say you’re a little pissed she acted out. 

A mean-spirited voice in your head considers pushing Agnes away entirely, leaving her wet and turned on for the rest of the night shift while you go home and find solace in your favorite toy. The rational part of you knows that no toy can replace your wife, and it’s her you want. You’re just not going to make it easy for her. 

You fall to your knees before she can work the cuffs off her belt. She jolts at the unexpected change. You slam against the ground pretty hard and wince, but don’t dare stop. 

Your hands find her belt buckle. Deftly, you start to undo it, “Please, I can make you feel good. I’ll do anything.” 

Agnes raises her brows. She doesn’t stop you from undoing her belt or slowly lowering the zipper of her pants. There’s a tenseness in her jaw as she thinks over the request. Intent on sealing the deal, you move your hands from the front of her pants; instead leaning forward to place a kiss where they’d just been. 

Looking up through your lashes, you beg, “Please.” 

“Well, since you’re so eager for it.” 

Ignoring the screaming in your knees, you shoot to your feet, capturing Agnes’ lips in a hard kiss. You attack with lips and teeth and tongue. At the same time, you slip your hand inside her pants and past the waistband of her panties. 

She groans against your lips when your fingers play in her wetness. Your fingers ghost over her clit and you grin into the kiss. Two hands settle on your hips and shove, your back hitting the side of your car; it hurts for a moment before you’re once again lost in the feel of your wife, how she’s using her position to grind against your hand, the obscene noises leaving her throat.

Your clit throbs with every roll of her hips. It’s intoxicating that she’s just taking what she wants, using you as a toy to achieve her own pleasure. But the desire between your own legs reminds you of the end goal. 

Agnes’ hips pick up speed, her usual low groans evolving into panting, high-pitched whimpers. She’s so close. You consider letting her have what she wants. 

Moments before she can fall over the edge you pull your hand from her pants. Hands settling on her chest, you shove her back. She jolts and stumbles. Her fucked-out expression from seconds earlier shifts to confusion, then anger. 

“What the fuck?” Agnes snarls. 

“You’ve been bad, detective.” Still leaning against the car, you cross your arms over your chest, “Or should I say Daddy.” 

Agnes stands straighter. There’s steel in her spine now, jaw taught as darkness comes over her expression. Amusement alights inside your chest. 

Her hands begin to unravel the belt from the loops of her pants, “I’m going to paint your backside blue.” 

“I don’t think so.” Your voice is hard. “You see, I had a lovely evening planned for us. Dinner, a movie, clean sheets for us to spend all night ruining. And we didn’t get to enjoy any of it because someone couldn’t control her temper. So you, daddy, are going to fuck me until I decide I’m ready to forgive you.” 

“It’s cute that you think you’re in control, baby.” 

Agnes steps into your space, belt in her hands. You stop her with a hand on her chest before she can get close enough to do anything. 

“I am in control.” 

“Those with the upper hand don’t usually have to state the fact.” 

You tilt your head, “If you don’t give me what I want, you’re not going to touch me for weeks. I’ll fuck myself and all you’ll be able to do is watch. And I’ll stuff all the pairs of panties I ruin into your bag, your pockets… everywhere you go, you’ll be reminded of just what you’re missing.” 

The smug expression slowly slips from her face. She tries to push forward again, but you’re unyielding; clenching your fist in the fabric of her shirt until she feels the subtle bite of your nails. There’s fury and a small trace of fear in her eyes. 

It’s rare that you have the upper hand. Usually Agnes is twelve steps ahead of everyone—you included. But this time she miscalculated, and she’s going to pay for it. 

“Your choice, daddy.”

She scoffs. Shaking her head, a few pieces of her hair free themselves from her low ponytail. They lay in and over her face before she blows them out of the way carelessly. She hasn’t been taking care of it, you can tell; and briefly, you consider if you can get away with commandeering her into taking better care of herself. 

You likely shouldn’t push your luck. Agnes is going to punish you enough for this stunt, you’re sure. 

The belt is tossed onto the ground a few feet away in a silent show of surrender. Her eyes are dark, churning with a mixture of fury and arousal. A brief moment passes where you wonder if you’re taking this a bit too far, but you shove it down; Agnes is an adult just as you are and will tell you if you cross any hard lines. 

“Is the heat on in the cruiser?” You ask. 

She pauses, taken-aback, “Yeah, of course.” 

“Good. You’re going to fuck me in it later. But first—” 

You open the back door of your own car as wide as it can go, just so you can perch on the seat with your feet still outside. With a smile, you open your legs wide. You hadn’t considered this outcome when you left the house for your drive, so your panties are relatively plain, but it doesn’t matter since they’re soaked through. 

Agnes takes a step forward and you hold up a finger. She pauses. You point at the ground. 

Her face goes red, “Not fucking likely.” 

And then she’s on you. She’s holding herself up with one hand on the seat, the other dragging your face to hers. Her body rests perfectly between your legs. With a low moan, you roll your hips against her front. 

Her grip on your face is painful. Thank god her nails are clipped short. 

Agnes pulls away from your mouth to bite and suck at your throat. You throw your head back, still grinding up against her, moaning with abandon. The friction is nice but it isn’t what you wanted. 

“I want you to eat me out.” You force out. 

“I don’t care what you want.” Agnes growls. 

“Oh? Well, I guess I should be prepared to handle my own orgasms for a while, then.” 

As you say that, you stop grinding, and lay fully against the seat, one of your arms snaking its way down your front and between your thighs. You’ve only circled a finger around your clit twice before her hand catches your wrist in a punishing grip. 

“Try it and I’ll tie you to the bed everyday when I go to work.” 

“I made my terms abundantly clear.” 

“You know what you forgot though, brat?” Agnes taunts, lips right next to your ear, “You’re too greedy to settle for your hand or your little toys. It’s only a matter of time before you get bored and come crawling back to me.” 

“Maybe I’ll just crawl to someone else. Agent Vidal has been hanging around.” 

A hand closes around your throat and you whine. She squeezes, your vision going fuzzy around the edges. You roll your hips. 

“I’ll lock you in the house if you even think about it.” Her voice is hard, promising, “You’re mine, baby.” 

“Prove it.” 

That’s the wrong thing to say. 

Agnes pulls back completely. Her hands leave you, the pressure of her body is gone. You look up and she’s standing just far enough away that you can’t touch her. You growl. 

The look on her face is one you’ve seen a dozen times; the very same one she wears when you’re about to endure something you don’t like. But you vow not to let her have the upper hand. Not this time. This time, you’re going to make her bend. 

“I’ll see you in the morning.” She says. 

The words are like a bucket of cold water over your head. You don’t spend long dwelling on the threat, there’s no time. 

Agnes is halfway back to the police cruiser when you worm your hand into your panties and bury two fingers inside without preamble. Despite being the source of your own pleasure, you jolt, back bowing off the seat. The moan that leaves your lips is exaggerated; pornographic. 

“Oh, yes!” 

You hear her footsteps come to a stop. You don’t dare open your eyes, not yet. The pleasure you’re experiencing is real, even if it is half of what it could be with Agnes’ help, but you have to keep up the act—have to make her jealous of your own fingers. 

Though she hates to admit it, Agnes is jealous in all aspects of life. There’s a bit of healthy competitiveness worked in there that you can admire. Yet some days… some days she comes home fighting mad, hair a mess and muscles clenched tight as she recounts the events that made her that way. And lately they’ve all had the same person involved—

Agent Rio Vidal. 

A loaner agent from the FBI, here to figure out some of the more poignant details of a murder on the Westview-Eastview county line. She’s confident and cutting and painfully attractive. Somehow, she knows how to push every single one of Agnes’ buttons, in work and play. 

You’ve only met her twice and each time Agnes was an animal afterward. The appreciative glances and suggestive words made you blush—and though you won’t admit it, turned you on a good bit—while Agnes could barely hold herself back from attacking the woman. So possessive. So jealous. 

You can use that. 

The door on the other car hasn’t opened and you know she’s watching with rapt attention. You put on a good show, rolling your hips into your one hand while pinching at your chest with the other. You could get off on her watching. 

Another exaggerated, high-pitched moan, “Oh, Agent Vidal!” 

Though the woman is attractive, you can’t imagine anyone but your wife. Agnes doesn’t need to know that. 

Strong hands grab your calves and pull you half-way out of the car. You squeak, eyes snapping open. Agnes looms above you and oh fuck you’re in trouble. 

“You little bitch.” She snarls, hand coming to wrap around your throat.

You try to moan but she doesn’t give you that much air. Another deft hand rips your own from your panties, even going so far as to rip the fabric off completely. There’s the ghost of her fingers above your center. You roll your hips. 

The sensation of loss and blurry edges is usually a huge turn-on; maybe it’s the intense change from oxygen to no oxygen, but you’re struggling more than normal. You tap her wrist three times. 

Agnes pulls away completely. Her hand is off your neck, the other gone from between your thighs. You take in large lungfuls of air and feel your heart-rate slow just a little. A little whine works its way from your throat, though it’s mainly a result of the throbbing between your legs that’s still driving you crazy. 

Your wife’s hands hover over you, eyes concerned, “Honey?” 

“I’m okay. You didn’t hurt me.” You assure, sitting up and kissing one of her palms, “The quick change just… startled me. I’m okay.” 

“Should I�� Do you need me to take you home?” 

“Oh no, Agnes O’Connor, you’re going to finish what you started.” Spreading your legs offers an obscene picture of just how soaked you are, made even more tantalizing by the ripped panties clinging to your thigh, “Unless you want me to find someone else who can finish the job.” 

It’s like flipping a switch. 

Overwhelming is a word that could be used to describe Agnes in bed—smothering, even. She has a way of overtaking every single one of your senses at once. Your skin is on fire with her touch, with the faint strands of hair tickling your face. The scent of burnt break-room coffee clings to her jacket. You even taste it when her tongue invades your mouth, moaning obscenely against your lips. 

You like being smothered, though. You crave it; aching for anything that will let you turn your mind off and just feel. 

Agnes pulls back. Her breath is hot against your lips, “You’re such a brat.” 

“Only for you, daddy.” You murmur. 

A shudder passes through her at the name. Her grip tightens on you, near bruising. You moan. 

“Where do you want me?” 

“With your mouth between my legs.” 

“Fingers?” 

“Yes, please.” 

Agnes chuckles, “So you do remember your manners. Interesting.” 

You roll your eyes. To your luck, Agnes doesn’t see—if she had, you would have been punished accordingly. Though you realize things are a bit off-balance with your threat hanging in the air; any other time, Agnes would have you bent anyway she pleased, taking all she wanted until you couldn’t handle any more. 

Being in control is… odd. Not unwanted, but odd. You have to be more aware of yourself, confident in every command that leaves your lips. You’re glad that this is Agnes’ preferred role even if you’re enjoying the change. 

Lips kiss the inside of your thighs and you shudder. When she sinks her teeth in, you squeal, jolting at the change. Your hand falls to the top of her head. 

“Not what I meant!” 

“Oh, then what did you mean?” She taunts. 

“If you don’t make me come right now so help me—” 

The heat of her mouth on you is enough to shut you up. Her tongue drags up your slit with agonizing slowness. She teases at your clit for only a moment before repeating the slow drag, making you whine, pressing her head closer. 

You feel the rumble of her laughter and god help you the vibrations feel amazing. Yet when you try to move your hips for more, her hands keep them pressed firmly to the leather seat. 

Another threat sits on your lips that never comes to pass. With the last slow lick, she fastens her lips around your clit and sucks, hard. It’s painful and wonderful and your back bows off the seat, hands scrambling for anything to clench into. The weeks have been long and you know you’re not going to last. 

“I’m going to come.” You force out. 

She laughs again. That, in combination with her attention focused solely on your clit, sends you straight over the edge. You feel wild, unhinged as your hips move without any guidance from your mind, chasing the waves of pleasure that make your every muscle go taut. 

But when the pleasure subsides, Agnes doesn’t stop. She pushes two fingers inside and curls them in that way you like so much. You clench around them, though you ache, not ready for more so soon. 

“I can’t—Please, I can’t.” You beg. 

“One more, baby. You can give me that, can’t you?” 

“I can’t.” 

“You can.” 

And you do. Her fingers know every inch of you well, her mind cataloging every spot that makes you whine, every move she performs that sends you over the edge. She calls on that knowledge as the pads of her fingers rub against that spot inside you with abandon until you can’t breathe, shrieking and moaning loud enough that you worry someone will hear you miles away. 

The pleasure tenses your body so tight that you worry the muscles will never relax again. It hurts in that delicious way only Agnes can bring out. 

When you do relax, she’s licking gently at you, collecting the flavor on her tongue and savoring it like a fine wine. You twitch. The hand you have in her hair pushes as you attempt to slide further onto the seat, away from her mouth. 

“No more,” you beg, “please.” 

“Am I forgiven?” 

You laugh, breathless, “Not quite.” 

You tug her up wordlessly until the weight of her is draped over you. It’s nice, comforting to feel her close. Her warmth helps fight against the cold biting at your lower half. Sighing, you bury your face in her neck, your hand coming up to lazily play with her hair. 

Agnes accepts the touch. She traces little patterns on your hip over the nightgown, soft and quiet. You can still see the red and blue lights from your hiding place in her neck. 

“Why do you have the Chief’s car?” You ask. 

She scoffs, “Mine broke down three hours into the shift. Had to call the Chief and walk all the way to his house to get the cruiser.” 

“What? Agnes, why didn’t you call me?” 

“I wanted you to enjoy your night in, honey.” 

You think about arguing, but you recognize the exhaustion in her voice, and decide not to push it—for now. It’s an argument you can save for later. 

“So what was it, the battery? I thought we just replaced it.” 

“I think the old girl might just be done for. We’ve had her for a while.” Agnes shrugs. 

“But that’s… we brought Nicky home in that car.” You whisper, chest aching. 

Another piece of your life—connected to your baby—that you won’t get to keep. Agnes tenses, her breathing growing ragged, and you feel terrible; she’s likely already thought about this the whole shift, spent all these hours remembering it alone. That’s why she didn’t call you—she didn’t want to drag you bag into the deep end of the pain, too. 

You press a gentle kiss to the side of her neck. No wonder she took the first opportunity to play with you, she needed the distraction. 

“I’m sorry, my love.” You murmur.

“Not your fault, honey. These things happen.” 

She sounds less and less like herself with every moment. You don’t want to shove the grief aside—the grief counselor said that only made things worse—but this isn’t how you want to handle it; Agnes draped over your freshly-debauched form in the backseat of your car. 

This is a conversation, a breakdown for home, where the two of you can take all the time you need to soak in the new loss. You need to distract her away from this. 

“Will the force offer you one of their vehicles?” 

“Yeah. They should.” 

“Where did you break down?” 

“By the bridge on Old Forest.” 

Perfect. 

“Let’s give her a proper sendoff, then.” 

Agnes pauses. The look she gives you is questioning, as if not quite believing your suggestion, but she knows better—knows you’re serious about this. 

“Alright.” 

Which is how you find yourself halfway across town, on a back road with no streetlights, pulling off perilously close to a ditch. Agnes' car is unmistakable even in the dark—from the extra mirror on the hood reflecting the moonlight to the dent in the back bumper she never got fixed. You feel suddenly overwhelmed as you trace your fingers over the body. 

So many memories, good and bad. Your late-night trysts in the back seat. Bringing Nicky home. The back seat full of his stinky sports gear. Agnes’ old case files winding up on the floor. 

Agnes comes up and drapes her jacket over your shoulders. The warmth of her body has seeped into the cloth, now blocking out the chill in the air, “This might not be the best idea.” 

You raise a brow, “Cold feet, detective?” 

“Mine are nice and warm. Yours, however...” 

She looks up and down your scantily-clad form with a worried furrow of her brow. It’s sweet, but not needed. 

“I don’t think our plans will keep me anything but warm.” You smile, leaning back against the car while pulling Agnes close, until every inch of her is pressed against your front. Her hands settle on your hips as she kisses you with a softness belaying the vulnerability she still feels, “Unlock the car.” 

“Honey—” 

“Agnes, would you rather I went home?” You murmur. 

“Of course not.” 

“Then what do you want?”

“Beats me.”

“You know what I want?” 

Using your leverage against the vehicle, you draw one of your feet up the inside of Agnes’ leg, careful to press every part of yourself against her. Her warmth radiates through her flannel and jeans and you smile. 

She raises a brow, “I’m sure I can guess.” 

“I want you to bend me over in the backseat of this car like you did that first time. You remember, don’t you? How pissed you were that I’d been teasing you for five dates.” You laugh at the memory, “You couldn’t even make it out of the restaurant parking lot.” 

“You were so loud we almost got caught.” She recalls, voice low, gravelly. 

“There’s no one around to catch us now.” 

Agnes wraps one of her arms around your waist and uses it to tug you sideways, making quick work of unlocking the car. With the hand not on your waist, she opens the back door, and eases her jacket from your shoulders. She lays it out on the cold seats with the warm side up. 

Not for the first time, you’re moved by her consideration of your comfort. It would be so easy for a partner to disregard the little things if it meant getting to the end goal faster; but not Agnes. You reward her with a long, slow kiss. 

When she pulls away, there’s a fond little smile on her lips. She pats your hip, “On your hands and knees.” 

You obey without question. Crawling onto the backseat, you’re reminded of just how confined the space of a car is. You have to keep your head bowed so as not to hit your head on the roof. It’ll be worth your while, but you know the two of you will be feeling the adverse effects of this choice for days. 

Agnes follows and shuts the door behind her. She works her way into the backseat until not a bit of space exists between the two of you. Every inch of her front is pressed against you, draped over you like a warm blanket. You push your backside back into her crotch, teasing. 

“I should’ve sent you home to get your purple.” You say. 

“Be good and you can have my cock later.” 

Warm fingertips trail up the back of your thigh until they snake under the hem of your nightgown. The soothing heat of her touch is lovely compared to the bite of the cold air. You lean into it. 

“Yes, daddy.” You sigh. 

Her body pulls away from yours and you turn, confused. A sharp slap to your backside makes your breath stutter, your core clenching around nothing. Your toes curl. 

“Interesting that you want to be good now, when you’ve been testing me all night.” 

“What can I say? I’m motivated by rewards.” 

You’re satisfied that Agnes seems to be in the moment, rather than locked up in the memories in her head. Intent on keeping it that way, you lean back into her, arching so you can match her entirely. Her muscles go taut and relax and being able to feel it makes you ravenous. 

Two fingers push your ripped panties aside and begin to drag up your slit, teasing. It should be noted that you are trying to be good for her, offering the control she takes to so well. You like to think she can tell, too. 

When she slips her fingers inside you without torturing you further, you’re sure she knows. 

You push back, desperate. You want more of her and bad. It’s as if the orgasms she gave you less than an hour ago never happened. Every muscle in your body quakes with the knowledge of what only Agnes can give you. And you want it so deeply that it threatens to bring tears to your eyes. 

“Please.” You beg without prompting, “Please, more.” 

A split-second hesitation belays her surprise, but she does slip another finger inside, stretching you even wider. You can’t stop how you move, nor the noises that come out of your mouth. You feel cursed with hunger only she can sate. 

It’s this car, this backseat, and the memories here that are driving you so mad. It’s the life attached to it that you never thought you would get; a family, a future, a wife who loves you despite all the ugly parts others had run from. It’s the years you haven’t had to live out alone, the pain you’ve shared. It’s the fact that this act was once a beginning and now it’s an end. 

Her lips press against the back of your neck, impossibly gentle, so unlike the role she’s meant to be playing. Something inside you breaks. 

“Agnes—“ You choke out. 

“It’s okay, honey.” 

You let go. 

You let go from holding yourself back—fucking yourself on her fingers until you shriek with pleasure. You let go of the ball of emotions in your chest, of hunger and pleasure and guilt. You let go of the pain and let tears spill over onto your cheeks. 

It’s not the best orgasm you’ve ever had, but it doesn’t need to be. It’s a goodbye to this piece of your life. It’s an end. And it hurts just the same as it feels good to embrace the potential of something new. 

Agnes holds you, steady as ever. You feel the dampness of her own tears on your neck. 

You turn and lay on your back, welcoming the weight of her. You use your thumbs to wipe away the tears coming from her beautiful blue eyes. 

“Am I forgiven, or do we have to go another round?” She asks.

You grin, not taking your hands from her face, “You’re forgiven, my love.” 

“Thank god.” 

Agnes drops her head until it rests on your chest. You laugh, extracting the hair tie so you can run your fingers through the length of it. Her arms wrap around you as much as they can. 

She presses a kiss to your chest, over where your heart is. You gently work through a knot in between your fingers. The windows are clouded with perspiration. Beads of water reflect what little moonlight peeks through the trees. Moonlight or no, you know every dip and curve of your wife’s form, and could identify every part of her without sight. 

The stale coffee smell has worn off, replaced by the faint undertones of the cologne she wears each morning. It’s deep and musky and comforting. 

Maybe it’s the weight of her head on your chest in combination with the memories that makes you speak, “Have you ever thought about us trying again?” 

She tilts her head so she can look up into your eyes without lifting from her resting place. Her brows are furrowed.

“Trying again?”  

The weight of her beautiful eyes on you almost makes you change the subject. These conversations are so much easier without that layer of intimacy. But you’ve started something and you’ll be damned if you don’t finish it. 

“To be parents.” You whisper. 

“I’m a little past due on that, baby.” Her smile is self-deprecating. 

“I’m not.” 

“You never wanted to carry. I remember that much.” 

“That was then.” You continue smoothing through her hair, “Now… If you want to try again, I’ll do it. I want to do it.” 

You can’t decipher the look in her eyes. She doesn’t pull away, but she’s tense. 

“We don’t need to decide right now. We have time.” 

She nods, “Alright.” 

“You’ll still be daddy, even if you aren’t my baby-daddy.” 

“That was terrible.” 

It doesn’t stop her from grinning, nor does it stop you from laughing. Something in the tension eases. You can’t lean down and kiss her like this, so you press a kiss to the pads of your fingers, and press them to her lips. She nips at them playfully. 

The quiet is nice, but you can feel the cold settling into your bones. You need to be back in a heated car before you get sick. 

“When is your shift over?” 

“In a few hours.” 

You nod, figuring out what time she’ll come home and how it fits into your schedule, “I have nothing after work if you want me to make good on those orgasms I owe you.” 

“I look forward to it.” 

It takes some time, but you and Agnes manage to untangle yourselves and worm your way out of the back seat. She sits, keeping you wrapped in her coat, until the inside of your own car is nice and warm. That earns her a few lingering kisses. 

She trails you on the drive home before speeding off to do god knows what during the last few hours of her shift. And when you fall asleep—already feeling sore—an eagerness sets in your chest of what awaits. With an end, a new beginning. 

[zafirosreverie]

Call the exorcist (Agatha x F!Reader)

For @roseclear

a/n: I haven't watch the show, I just know the basics, so sorry for any plot mistakes.

Spoilers for the ending

______________

Your life was chaotic. From the moment you met that damn charming, chaotic and slightly evil (well, very evil) witch, your whole world did a 180.

From one day to the next, magic was not only something possible, but little by little, it became something common in your life. Something you got so used to that you thought nothing could surprise you anymore.

Rule number one of being married to a witch: Agatha Harkness can always surprise you.

You weren't stupid, you knew she didn't tell you absolutely everything, that there were parts of her past she would never tell you, that they were completely buried and she planned to keep them that way. Not that it bothered you, if you were honest. 300 years of life had to have hard moments, and you decided that you wouldn't push her any further than she felt comfortable sharing you.

Still, that damn woman always managed to give you gray hairs, and you were sure that one of these days she would put you in an early grave. But you still loved her, more than life itself.

______________

The first scare was when she disappeared to go to Westview. You had a hard time getting in touch with her, and she only gave you a hasty and poorly structured explanation about chaos magic before sending you back home.

A week later, Maximoff's escape and what she had done to the town was reported on the news. You came back as quickly as you could, but you couldn't do anything. You were forced to watch your wife live as Agnes for 3 years, powerless and weak to bring her back.

Then the boy showed up. Billy Maximoff, or at least a variant of him? A reincarnation? The truth was that you didn't quite understand, nor did you care. The only important thing was that Agatha was back. And with her, chaos. Of course.

God forbid you have a second of peace with your wife.

The coven, Rio, Billy, everything was too confusing, too much for your mortal mind to understand in all the details how quickly the situation was changing, and Agatha, in the middle of it all, the central pillar, was not much help.

You knew she didn't tell you everything, but that she had gotten involved with death or that she had a child should have been some of the things she could have tell you, right? At least you thought that something like that should be important enough to tell her new wife.

You hadn't even finished assimilating all that when your witch, always chaotic and without explanations, kissed Rio, lady death, to save Billy. You didn't even have time to say goodbye to her, or to assimilate that, just like that, from one moment to the next, you had become a widow.

You didn't think you had known greater pain in your life. Knowing that your wife, the woman you loved, as imperfect, chaotic and evil as she was, was no longer there, broke your heart. You couldn't even stay there for long, you went back home as soon as you could, desperate that everything was a damn nightmare, that when you opened your eyes, Agatha would be there, with that infuriating but beautiful smile that you loved so much, ready for a new chaos.

But no matter how many times you woke up, reality was still there. Agatha was dead, you were alone. And your wife wasn't coming back.

_______________

…until she did.

________________

You calmly stepped into the shower, allowing the hot water to wash away the stress of the day, the worries and sorrows. You allowed yourself to close your eyes and focus for a moment on the feeling of the water against your skin, the warmth of the steam and-

"AGATHA!!!" you screamed as you jumped up, and your wife still had the nerve to laugh.

It had been less than a week since Agatha Harkness had come back into your life, ready to turn it upside down again. At first, you thought you had finally lost your mind (sometimes you still thought that it was the case, to be honest), when the ghost of your dead wife appeared in the middle of the living room.

However, in true Agatha fashion, she began to cause all kinds of mischief around the house, moving things around, disarranging things, and giving you those damn kisses that you still couldn't decide if you loved or not. And that was all you needed to know that yes, your wife was back. In the form of a pile of ectoplasm with too much time on her hands and too eager to take you to the grave too, but she was back.

"Come on sweetie, you can't blame me" she laughed, floating closer to you "you know I've never been able to resist your…charms"

You shivered as her fingers, cold and not quite physical, ran down your lower back. Before you could protest, Agatha kissed you deeply. Kisses with her were very strange now, to say the least.

Not that they bothered you, you just still had to get used to the feeling of kissing an ice cube that you couldn't really touch but was at the same time as real as yourself. You never imagined kissing a ghost, but here you were, proving once again how much you loved this woman even in death.

"You're a menace" you said as she pulled away

"But I'm your menace" she smirked

"…we said 'till death do us part', why are you still here?" you crossed your arms, covering your naked body a little

"Oh darling" she laughed and caressed your cheek with those icy fingers "it's cute how you really thought death would rid you of me. No, my love, you're mine, in this and every life after"

Something in her tone and the way her ghostly fingers gripped your chin, told you that she really planned to keep that promise. And you couldn't help but smile.

"That's cute, my love" you said "…but get out of my shower right now"

"Oh come on" she laughed "I've seen you how tou came into the world many times"

"Agatha!" you shivered as you felt her icy fingers on your lower back again

"Yes?" She smiled like the Cheshire Cat

"I love you" you said "but if you don't let me take A FUCKING SHOWER IN PEACE, I'M GOING TO CALL A PRIEST AND EXORCISE THE DAMN HOUSE!!"

And of course, that damn beautiful, charming, chaotic and slightly evil (well, very evil) witch that you loved more than life itself, had the nerve to laugh.

[aparticularbandit]

Okay but:

1) How did Billy know where Agatha was? Did he know she was under a spell before finding her in Westview, or did he figure that out once he was there? (Agnes's screen time is straightforward by her perception but not necessarily analogous to what happens to everyone else outside of her perception.)

2) Were there really three years between WandaVision and DSMOM? The official timeline sets it in 2024 (after WandaVision in 2023 - it also sets it before Hawkeye, which I disagree with, but not the point), which means no. But Agatha All Along takes place in 2026. Why did it take an extra two years for Rio to show up to free Agatha - as part of her job (her words in episode one, and I don't think her lines are jaded by Agnes's perception - I think Rio's words cut through that - even if Agnes wouldn't have understood them the way Agatha would)?

3) Agnes's worldview switched from nosy neighbor in a sitcom to detective in a crime show so suddenly, and the show implies this happened as a result of Wanda's death - since she's investigating that crime - but why did it take two additional years for that to happen? Why didn't it happen immediately when Wanda died? (Deadpool and Wolverine is theorized to take place in that universe's 2023, so they could have set Agatha All Along earlier; Agatha All Along kept getting pushed back - did Jac always intend for it to be three years, regardless of when the show aired?)

Which really leads to:

4) What is the significance of three years? Why is all of this happening now and not immediately after Wanda's supposed death? Rio says Wanda is gone, so Agatha should be able to claw herself free - why did it take two years after Wanda's supposed death for Rio to show up if Wanda really died in DSMOM? (Rio says she's gone; she doesn't say she's dead.)

[scarletemeraldpurple]

Agatha Harkness Wines and Dines (and keeps) a Butch Reader

Reader is a genderqueer butch who gets called a few variations on “boy”, wears a sports bra and is said to soak through their underwear (genitals left ambiguous). Reader is also called a puppy and a slut.

There’s some wine tasting but no intoxication.

Reader goes down on Agatha and grinds against her thigh. There’s a lot of talk of going mindless and fuzzy.

You’d had a quiet crush on your neighbor in Westview for a while. Something about her was just…different than everyone else in the neighborhood. She had such a bright smile and her personality was so magnetic. She was so confident in herself. She didn’t walk, she strutted.

And she strutted right to you in the wine section of the grocery store.

“Hiya hun! Stocking up for the weekend too?”

She chuckled as you visibly jumped, you hadn’t noticed her sneak up on you.

“Didn’t mean to scare ya toots.”

“Hi Agnes. Uh, yeah y-you could say that.”

“Are you a red wine gal too hun?” She said, gesturing to the section you both were in front of.

“W-well actually I’m not entirely sure what I’m looking for. Kind of new to wine.”

“Oh how exciting. Well I can be your amateur sommelier! Guide you through this new world.” Your neighbor put a friendly arm around your shoulders, and quietly took note of how you had not made eye contact for this entire exchange. Oh this was going to be fun for her.

“Are you busy this evening hun?”

“N-no. No I’m free.”

“Then why don’t you come over to mine for dinner, complete with a cheese and wine course and we can see what you like. Sound okay to you?”

You looked at her. A bit stunned by the contact and the invitation. “That sounds fun. Thank you Agnes.”

“Great! It’s a date! Come to mine at 6.” She started to walk away.

“Wait!”

She turned and arched an eyebrow. God the simplest things made you flustered.

“What should I wear?”

She smiled. “Y’know what? Let’s get a little dolled up. Wear something that makes you feel sexy, I’ll let you decide if you want to keep it classy or not.” She said with a wink and walked off for real.

You decided to skip buying anything and headed straight home. You had 2 hours to get ready for Agatha’s. One hour to freak out, one hour to actually get ready.

Oh my god she said “date” did she mean date date? Or just “oh we’ve set a date?” She said to dress sexy, was she flirting? She’s kind of like that with everyone. You supposed if she flirted with everyone she was probably flirting with you. You weren’t sure if that made you feel better or worse.

You decided to shower to calm your nerves. You did your full self care routine. You had a towel wrapped around you as you pondered your options on what to wear.

You had your classiest option: full suit. That would probably be a bit much. You could take it down a notch and lose the jacket and maybe the tie. Yeah that could be good.

Alternatively, you had some leather pants and a bulldog harness. Which did make you feel very sexy, probably not quite the occasion for them.

You put on your dark suit pants and tucked in your shirt. You put your black leather belt on. Some small part of you wanted to make this sexier. You could undo a few buttons. Or…

You picked up your bulldog harness and put it over your crisp white button down. It was a good look. You felt like a high fashion butch. You wondered if Anges was being sarcastic when she told you “you decide how classy you want to be.” But something about it felt really right for tonight. If you were right, and Anges was flirting with you, this would certainly get her attention.

You decided to bring a black chore jacket as well. You looked put together, but not too stuffy and formal. The jacket would allow the harness to be a bit of a reveal

You showed up at 5:59 and knocked at the door.

“Hiya, my don’t you look dashing.”

There was no hiding your grin when she called you dashing.

“Seriously between you and the oven it’s sweltering in here.”

That one got you to blush a little.

“Thank you Agnes. Y-you look really nice tonight too.”

She gave a little twirl in her cocktail dress. It was a dark purple that you thought really suited her. The bottom was flowy. She smiled at how you were admiring her. She’d have you on your knees in no time.

“Come in dear. Dinner we’ll be a few minutes but I’ve got some appetizers ready and our first glass of wine to go with it.”

She led you inside and you took in her home for a second. You had no idea what you expected but it wasn’t quite this. It was like the archetypal suburban housewife threw up everywhere. Something was off about it.

“Sit dear I’ll pour the wine and grab our appetizers.” She gestured to a very plush couch.

“Oh I can help if you want—“

“Sit. I insist my dear.” Her tone was still gentle, but distinctively authoritative.

You nodded nervously and took a seat.

You heard her shuffle around for a bit before she returned with a bottle of wine, two glasses, and a corkscrew. She expertly removed the cork.

“We’re gonna let this sit and breathe for a little bit while I got add the last touches to the charcuterie board.”

“Are you sure I can’t do anything for you?” You pleaded.

She squeezed your shoulder. “You’re very sweet hun. But trust me I got this. Relax. In fact, let me help you with your jacket.”

Oh shit. You thought. Here’s the big reveal.

“Oh um, listen-“ you started as Agatha stood you up and took off the chore jacket.

Something changed in her eyes when she saw what was underneath. “You sure rose to the occasion, huh sweetie?”

“I—so you like it?”

“Oh I love it sweetheart.” She traced the leather with her fingertips and eyed the D-ring in the middle of your chest. “I’m very impressed. I knew you would look handsome no matter what but this, this is a very welcome surprise my dear.”

You gulped as nimble fingers continued to trace up and down the straps. Part of you wished she would slip a couple of those long, lovely fingers into the d-ring and just tug you around.

She lightly took it in her fingers. She smirked as you inhaled. Then let go.

“We have much to discuss tonight don’t we dear?”

You managed to look her in the eye. “It appears we do.” You said softly

“Be good and sit back down for me dear.”

You obeyed.

“Very good. You just stay. There’s nothing for you to worry about when you’re with me.”

She went back into the kitchen and after a few minutes came out with a spread of cheese crackers and fruit.

“Now this red is a little on the bitter side. But it’ll balance out the fat of the cheese for tonight. I’m going to reduce our wine tasting to just two tonight. This is the first one, and I have some wine to go with our dessert.”

“You’re the expert, I trust you.” You told her.

“Good answer.” She smiled at you.

She sat next to you. “Here let’s start with a fig.” You reached for one but she stopped you.

“Let me get that.” She said.

“I can feed myself.” You replied.

“Oh I’m well aware you can. But I want to feed you. Now be good and open up.”

Her hand was so close to your mouth as you but the piece of fig she fed you. Her gaze was very focused on you. Despite your button up, and the extra security of your harness, you felt naked.

“Now was that so bad?” She teased. Eyes still fixated on you.

“I guess not.” You said, just above a whisper.

“Haven’t even had a sip of wine and look how red you are.”

You looked away from her, only to be pulled back by a crooked finger.

“Always so shy. I make you nervous don’t I sweetheart?”

You nodded your head and gulped.

“Poor thing. I really don’t bite you know, not without permission at least. Well there was that one time I bit a kid. But anyway.”

“Wait what?”

“Story for another time my dear.” She said as she brought a soft cheese spread over a cracker to your lips.

It was creamy and mild, and the cracker had a nuttiness to it. It was quite tasty.

“Okay I will let you take a drink by yourself. I’d hate to see it spill all over your nice white shirt.”

“Thank you.”

You each took a sip. It was more bitter than you usually would have liked, but it was a nice change after the fat of the cheese.

“Good isn’t it? I know it was bold to give you something so bitter to start, but I figured it would get balanced out by our starter.”

“Yeah. You’re exactly right. This is pretty nice actually.”

She let you feed yourself the rest of the night. You two sipped your drink and feasted on cheese and fruit.

You felt oddly at ease with her. Sipping your wine and swapping thoughts about the spread.

“Okay our main course is actually less fancy than our appetizer, we’re having fish and chips. And we’re pairing it with a more acidic wine. Come with me to the table darling.” She stood up and held out her hand.

You reached for it cautiously and she gave you a comforting squeeze. Her hand was softer than you expected. Her fingers were long and skinny, but they felt nice intertwined with yours.

“You’re cute.” She hummed, mostly to herself.

“Sit.” She instructed gently. You didn’t put up a fight this time.

“Good boy.”

She looked at you to see your reaction. Your eyes were wide, and she could tell you wanted more.

“See you don’t need to fight me. You don’t need to worry. You just need to be good and do what I say.”

“Agnes-“

She seemed caught off guard when you said her name. “Oh right” she muttered to herself.

“Agnes I think we should talk. I-I haven’t done anything like this in awhile.”

She brought a finger to your lips, very effectively cutting you off from whatever ramble you were about to go on.

“So let me ease you back in. You can be good for me. Just be good for me for a bit. Leave all the thinking to me.”

You looked like a puppy to her. Desperate for praise and affection and assurance. Desperate for someone’s hand to guide you.

“We’ll talk more in a minute. Let me get dinner out.”

She served up a portion for both of you and poured the wine. You were surprised to find that this one was white

“White wine has its place though it’s usually not my preference. The acidity of this one is a nice contrast to fat of the fish and the batter. I wanted to make this a well rounded experience for you since you don’t really know what you like yet.”

“Thank you Agnes.”

“You’re very welcome dear. Now dig in.”

You ate more slowly than you usually would. Your nerves had resurfaced.

She reached across the table to squeeze your free hand. “I’m really happy you’re here you know.”

You smiled at her. “I’m happy I’m here too.”

“I’m so glad. Can I tell you a secret?” Unbeknownst to you your host had several secrets to share with you tonight.

“What’s up?”

“I’ve had a thing for you since you moved into the neighborhood.”

You nearly did a spit take.

“I had a feeling you felt the same way. You’re so cute when you get all shy. Just makes me want to tease you more.”

She wanted this too. You couldn’t believe it. Feeling bold, you tried something.

Looping a finger through the d-ring of your harness, you asked: “What else does it make you want to do?”

“Oh fuck baby. You have no idea what you’re getting yourself into.”

“I’m sure you won’t give me anything I can’t handle.”

Agnes groaned. “Come with me, pet.”

Something deep in you tingled when she called you that. “Yes ma’am”. You got up and took her hand. She led you into her basement.

It was eerily dark and impossibly big.

“So listen sweetie. I haven’t been completely honest with you.”

“What haven’t you been honest about?”

“Well my real name isn’t Agnes. You don’t need to worry about my real name. I’m Mistress, as far as you’re concerned.”

“Shit did I have your name wrong this whole time? And you never corrected me?”

Agatha chuckled. “No love, everyone in this town calls me Agnes. It’s a long story dear.”

“You have a lot of long stories.” You replied.

“Maybe if you’re really lucky you’ll hear some of them.”

“I hope so.”

Agatha gave you a soft look. Then stepped forward and kissed you. The kiss was gentler than you expected, at least to start. Soon she was biting at your lip and slipping her tongue into your mouth. You leaned into it, leaned into her dominance. God you needed this. You whined when she pulled away.

“Oh baby, are you sure you can handle me? I’ve barely touched you and listen to you. Whining like a little puppy, huh pet?”

“Please Mistress.” You asked with a dazed look in your eye.

“Do you even know what you’re asking for pet?”

“I-I need you Mistress.”

Agatha’s eyes lit up. “Need me huh? Need my control?”

“Please, please Mistress.” You begged.

“Fuck baby. I’m gonna fuck every single thought out of that head of yours.” She grabbed you by the harness and pulled you in roughly for another kiss. This time your hands went to her hair, wanting her as close to you as possible.

She pulled away. “Did I say you could touch me pet?”

You immediately brought your hands to your sides. “I’m sorry Mistress. I didn’t realize that was a rule.”

Agatha was very please with your answer. “You are forgiven. All pets need training, but they need to know the rules in order to do that don’t they?”

“Do you have any more rules Mistress?”

“The main two are that you will call me Mistress and you will wait for permission to touch me. Are you familiar with the traffic light system?”

“Yes Mistress. I used that system in my previous uhh—arrangements.”

“Glad to hear it. If for some reason you are unable to speak, squeeze my arm once for green, twice for yellow, and three times for red. Can you show me how you would communicate red if you were gagged?”

You gave her three squeezes on her arm.

“Good job. That’s it for me then. Anything you want me to know, sweet thing?”

“I-uh-I like being called good boy, p-prettyboy too.”

“Oh I bet you do. You are such a prettyboy after all, and you deserve to be reminded of that.”

You blushed.

“You want to know what I think sweet boy?”

“What is it Mistress?”

“I think you’ve needed this for a while Someone to take control. Someone to be firm with you, maybe even a little rough?”

You blushed and averted your eyes.

“Answer me, pet.” She said, tilting your face back up.

“Yes Mistress.”

“I can do that baby. In fact I’d love to do that for you.” She said, grabbing the front of your harness, pulling you in for another kiss.

You melted into her. You almost went to out your arms around her before clasping them behind your back.

Agatha broke apart from you. “Oh you are such a good boy. You look so sweet like this. Oh I can’t wait to see you trussed up in purple ropes. I bet you’d like that. But for now, you may touch me baby. Let your hands explore my body sweet boy.”

She kissed you again and your hands went to her waist, sliding up and down her sides. Then one hand went to her back and the other went to her long black hair. You couldn’t believe how good she felt against you. How good she felt in your hands. How good her tongue felt in your mouth.

“You’re just a cute little puppy, huh baby?” She whispered against you.

Your breath hitched. “Y-yes Mistress.”

“Wanna be my puppy? Wanna be Mistress’s good puppy?”

“Yes Mistress.”

“Such a good puppy. Such a good boy.”

“Wanna be good for you Mistress.”

“Oh I know angel. And you’re being very good. It’s gotten me so wet seeing you like this, wanna feel baby?”

“Yes please Mistress.”

She led your hand between her legs and sure enough she was soaked through her underwear.

“Wanna help me take care of that?”

“Yes Mistress, how do you want me?”

“Kneel.” She instructed, tugging you down by the ring of your harness.

You looked up at her from the floor.

“Look at those puppy eyes. Okay baby, come get your treat.” She slid off her underwear

She guided your head up her skirt and you breathed her in. You placed a couple kisses to her thighs before licking a long stripe on her cunt.

She let out a groan. “Keep going puppy.”

You licked her eagerly, exploring all of her cunt. Sucking on her clit. Tongue-fucking her entrance. You moaned into her and she gasped at the vibration.

She hiked up her skirt and grabbed your hair. “Stick your tongue out love, just let me use you.”

Your mind went blank as she rutted against your mouth.

“Fuck, you look like a fucking slut you know that? My fucking slut. Good puppy, letting me use your mouth. Fuck you make me feel powerful.”

She made direct eye contact with you as she fell over the edge. She pulled you back up and kissed you roughly. She moaned as she tasted herself on your mouth.

“Good little butch fucktoy for me.” She walked you backwards until you were sitting on a desk.

“I want to see more of you, can I see more of you baby?”

“Underwear and sports bra stay on for tonight.” You said firmly.

“Okay baby, thank you for telling me.”

She helped you out of your harness. “Can I unbutton this baby?”

“Yes please Mistress.”

“Such a sweet boy. I got you baby.” She skillfully and quickly got you out of your button down.

“Can I put my harness back on?”

“Oh yes you can baby. Fuck that looks good on you.”

She undid your belt and shimmied you out of your pants. There you were, leather across your chest, sitting just above your dark green sports bra, wearing boxer briefs in a matching shade.

“You’re so handsome baby. How can I make you feel good?”

“I-I love grinding against someone.”

“Oh I bet you do puppy. Wanna hump Mistress’s thigh? Gonna get my thigh all messy, even through your underwear?”

You tried to hide your face in her neck but you were swiftly pulled back by the hair, causing you to moan.

“Answer me puppy. Use your words to get what you want. And don’t think I didn’t catch that little moan.” Agatha said, tugging you a little more.

“Please let me grind on you Mistress. I’ll be good I promise.”

“Oh I know honey. C’mon, I have a special room to show you.”

She looped her fingers through your d-ring and led you like that to a bedroom. Well it was more than a bedroom. It was a full on sex room. There was a St. Andrew’s Cross, a mini fridge, a suspension hook on the ceiling, and the bed had 4 posts with spots to tie someone spread eagle.

“Oh I’m sure you’ll get acquainted with lots of the equipment in this room in time. Tonight though, just you and me on the bed.”

She got in first and propped up her back with some pillows. She stuck her legs out and patted her thighs.

You walked over cautiously. You stood on your knees, hovering over her thigh.

Agatha grabbed your hips and pulled you down. “C’mon baby, don’t be shy. Be a good puppy and hump my leg.”

You started moving your hips in small circles.

“There you go, good puppy. Mistress wants you to feel good. You don’t need to worry about anything besides feeling good. No thinking baby, just pleasure.”

Encouraged by her words, you quickened your movements. You rubbed back and forth and and back and forth and back and forth.

“There you go puppy, I can feel you seeping through. Such a good slutty butch. You like how I’m treating you?”

You whined and humped faster.

“Words honey.”

“Please Mistress. Please talk me through this Mistress. Please your voice—”

“It would be my pleasure to talk you through humping my leg. Silly little puppy needs instructions huh? Can’t think when you’ve got something to grind against? Does that brain melt when you get wet like this?”

“Yes Mistress,” your inhibitions were greatly lowered, “Please Mistress. Wanna be brainless. Wanna be your slut. Wanna give into you.”

“Oh sweet puppy, you already have given into me. You’re here in My basement, making a great big wet spot on My thigh. Because you’re My slutty little puppy, isn’t that right? Tell me you’re mine puppy.” She grabbed your hair again, making you face her.

You moaned. “Yours Mistress, your puppy, your slut, your butch—” you babbled out.

“That’s right baby. All mine. And I’m yours. I’m your Mistress and you don’t need to worry about anything when you’re with Mistress, isn’t that right puppy?”

“No Mistress. Don’t need to worry.” You felt your climax start to build.

“Good puppy. I can feel you getting more and more desperate. You can do it baby, cum for your Mistress.”

You buried your head in her neck as you came with a string of “Thank you thank you thank you…” leaving your lips.

Agatha laid back and you collapsed on top of her.

“I’m so glad I have you now.” She said, scratching your head.

“I’m glad I have you.” You mumbled against her.

You dozed off, against her. Totally unaware of what was going on in Agatha’s head. The collar she was sketching out in her head. How you were going to be Hers, forever. She waited so long for you, there was no way she was letting you go now.

[dorksidefiker]

So, one thing about Agatha All Along that I keep rotating in my head…

While the residents of Westview were being very kind to and protective of Agatha/Agnes… did no one stop and say "Hey, we should probably move her out and let Randall have his house back."?

[ask-missparker]

The band was jumpin' and the joint began to swing | Wandavision 60s blurb 📞

Pairings: Wanda x Vision, Nikolai x Amelia, Marlene x Melissa

Extra characters mentioned: Agnes, Herb, Ji-Hoon, Norm

Summary: A nice day in WestView isn’t it, neighbor? Just a nice day for a talent show in the park.

Click here to read them in the 50s episode

———

“Why are we doing this again?” He yelled from across the room.

“Because it is our neighborhood duty to participate.” She called back.

“And who’s brilliant idea was that?”

“Yours!”

“WAS I DRUNK WHEN I SUGGESTED THAT?”

She looked up with doe eyes shaking her head and said, “No. You were your normal amount of drunk when you came and suggested it.”

“Oh.” He repiled looking surprised for a moment and turned back on track, “Well I’m not going.”

As he turned on his heels, she yelled, “They are serving free drinks and well made sandwiches.”

He stopped his tracks, amused by the latest news and began walking backwards, “What I meant to say was I’m not going without a quick shower to fresh up.”

She smiled and winked at the camera with a shrug. She crossed her eyes, “How about we did a little dance at the talent show tonight as well?”

He yelled from that bathroom, “Only if you wear that sassy little number that make your eyes pop and fit you in all the right places!”

“Now you sound like yourself.”

“Wouldn’t be if I wasn’t!”

“And it’s for the children.”

“We already got one, who needs more?”

“Niky!”

“I love you too!”

~~~~

At the town meeting, Nikolai was sitting down near the round table stuffing his face with a donut half listening to what Ji-Hoon saying as Marlene muttered his ear to share the food.

Herb was talking about the Jesters new playground in the front yard and how they should all invest in their lawns looking just as good.

That’s when Vision walked in standing all awkward and said, “I’ll just stay here and be as quiet as a church mouse.”

Nikolai yelped pulling up a chair, “Nonsense man, come sit! More the merrier. Maybe you can make the place more interesting. Uh, no offense Norm.”

He muttered, “None taken.”

Marlene snorted at the comment, handing Vision a box of doughnuts in which Nikolai stole from his grasp.

She rolled her eyes instead passing around sandwiches and said, “You’ll love them. My wife made ‘em this morning.”

Vision kindly denied, “Oh no thank you. I don’t eat food.”

“Uh what?”

“..uhh what I meant to say is that I don’t eat food inbetween meals, but at meal time. I’m a regular eating machine.”

“Well more for-“ Ji-Hoon exclaimed about to put them a little to-go box for later but Marlene slapped his hand away, “-ow!”

“No more! Then you won’t be able to fit into your pants later.” Marlene respones scowled at him then turning back to Vision, “Would you like a stick of gum instead?”

Norm was about to say ‘is gum even food’ but one glare from Marlene shut the man up. Vision shrugged saying it couldn’t hurt and took a stick of gum from Herb which made him act kinda funny. They all assumed it was the flavor must’ve been different to his taste buds.

Nikolai and Herb smirked saying it would be great to have a game of horseshoe out back. Vision nodded excited which had Marlene and the others holding back their laughter.

~~~

The ladies however had an interest time at Dottie’s house. Amelia arrived somewhat easily carrying Milo in her arms as the the puppy playing patty cake with Geraldine. She thanked the women for keeping her company as they waited for the others. The girl said it was her pleasure to do so, she wasn’t sure why she came in the first place because she thought it would be more fun. Melissa arrived just in time, saying that her and her wife were having some exact fun that morning.

Both girls laughed.

Dottie looked around counting head and raised an eyebrow, “Uh Amelia right?”

“Hm?” She asked.

“Uh I don’t remember saying dogs could come.”

Melissa smirks as she added, “And I don’t remember you saying that florals were on the list today. I guess we’re both disappointed.”

Dottie looks down at her loud floral dress, flowers rounding her tables set up and the floral curtains. She groaned and walked away as if she was fuming. Melissa smirked to herself as Geraldine and Amelia giggled, they liked florals but this was overkill. Agnes, Wanda and the other ladies finally joined in. Her puppy was being treated well by the staff members there, which made her smile.

Dottie was discussing the incident and plans for today, reminded them that this whole show was for the children. In which the other ladies repeated in unison.

“Did I walk into a cult or something...” Marlene muttered to herself as Amelia snorted.

That earned a little smile from her other friends. Agnes was just drinking meanwhile Wanda was biting down on a cookie that she forgot what was happening.

She removed the cookie from her mouth to clap and repeat along, “For the children.”

Afterwards some ladies went to get ready for the show, but Amelia, Melissa and Wanda stayed behind to help clean up with Dottie.

“Thank you for helping us clean up today, we feel so lucky.” Wanda said with a smile, picking up plates.

“You are.” Dottie responded with a fake ass smile.

Melissa muttered, “I should’ve ran out when I had the chance.”

“You and me both.” Added Amelia with a smile.

The four of them wanted to correct the situation, trying to avoid any confusion and become friendly. Everything was going fine. Melissa was fixing fix up a few napkins hearing the girls speak when the radio started to turn into an oddly specific voice asking ‘Can you hear me, Wanda? Who’s doing this to you girls?’

Dottie got concerned asking who they are, in pure curiosity and shock the glass in her hand shattered as the radio returned back to normal. But she was bleeding a daring red as Amelia rushed over with some napkins to clear that mess up. Dottie was looking between both girls in confusion and slight embarrassment then calmly smiling like a perfectly good housewife should. Wanda stood there with no words coming out of her mouth as Melissa tried to defuse the situation.

“How do you know this much?” Dottie asked.

Amelia smiled, “Well, when your married for so long and had mishaps..you know when to stay calm..”

“Good. I’ll take care of this.”

“But you sure?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?”

Dottie just walked away leaving the girls and Wanda to themselves wondering how uptight and strange the blonde could be. Amelia rushed over to see is the redhead was okay as Wanda nodded saying she was fine, having to get ready for the show.

———-

The show at the park was in full swing, as couples were in their fun acts. Marlene and her wife, Melissa, did a little balancing act for the whole crowd. Everyone clapped and cheered for their performance.

Ji-Hoon was hosting the show talent show dressed in his trademark suit, as Amelia and Nikolai were up next doing their best dance routine yet. The two dance Jailhouse Rock on the stage, doing swings, kicks and twirls. Their footwork was excellent in their eyes, having the whole stage be their dance floor.

They finished off the dance with Nikolai dipping Amelia’s head with a classic grin and wink to the audience. She giggled and smiled across the crowd as they clapped loving their performance.

It didn’t matter if they won, they could all tell the couple had way too much fun. But winning would be nice of course.

The two raced off the stage watching Wanda and Vision getting ready. Amelia noticed that Vision looked like he was drunk, as she muttered if Nikolai had of them drink during their meeting. He just put a finger to his lips chuckled, when in reality he had no idea what happened to Vision.

But they got their answer once Wanda and Vision were performing on stage. It was honestly hilarious on their own magic act how silly Vision was out of the loop meanwhile Wanda was playfully showcasing their tricks.

Some of the crowd was confused, others were laughing meanwhile the whole time everyone was entertained piecing together the magic up.

Suddenly Vision walked off the stage and yelled, “Stand up, Shebert! Say hello to the crowd.”

Herbert stood up awkwardly, “Actually it’s Herbert..”

“Pipe down Sherbie and pick a card!”

Vision was fumbling around with his words, instructing Herbert to do as told. Afterward the tall blonde shuffled the cards then flipping one out with a confident expression.

“Is this your card?”

“Uh no.”

“I beg to differ.”

“No.”

“R-really?”

He threw the card over his shoulder and went to pick another one, as Hebert kept telling him, ‘no’. Vision made a grumping noise flipping across the card rapidly in front of the other man’s face repeatedly asking the same question.

All the cards went flying around the park until Vision held up the last one in frustration asking, “Is this your card?”

Herbert smiled, “It is!”

“It is what?!”

“It’s my card.”

Vision scoffed exclaiming, “Well pardon me, Herbert, have it back!” As he shoved the card onto his chest scrambling away and onto the stage saying he did the trick right. The crowd clapped and laughed.

Vision went on and on with tricks running around the stage like a maniac trying to get a hold of himself but failing. Marlene snorted as Melissa laughed. Poor Wanda had to deal with all of her husband’s mishap, covering it up with fake magic to go ahead his real magic act. Soon enough it was over.

Everyone clapped and cheered at their performance, as Ji-Hoon and Dottie called up all the acts to the stage for hand out awards. Everyone got a little ribbons or small trophies, but the real winner was Wanda and Vision. 

All that mattered is that everyone had fun!

——————

Marlene took Melissa on a walk along the park afterwards then home for a special little treat of their own. All Amelia knew that Melissa was blushing after something her wife said in her ear before they left, Nikolai snorted loudly knowing those two were gonna have fun. He decided to take his wife home where he was greeted by their growing puppy Milo was leaping into his lap the moment he sat down on the couch.

“Sometimes I think you love that little mutt more than me.” Amelia joked putting their small trophy on the coffee table before taking a seat beside them.

Nikolai was kissing Milo’s face who was licking and curling up against him ignoring his wife’s jokes as he smirked. That was tall tale sign that she was right about that. He then pressed a kiss to her face as she tried to scurry away.

“You got dog slobber on you!” She yelled giggling.

“Really?! Can you remove it?” He shouted jokingly, picking up Milo who licked her cheeks as well.

“Ahh! You boys will be the death of me!”

“Take it back!”

“No!”

Nikolai and Milo were attacking Amelia with kisses and doggie breath, as laughter and yelling echoed the room.

The two heard a small rumbling sound coming from outside the house, pausing to look outside the window to see thunder and lightning coming. Nikolai’s eyebrows furrowed for a moment sensing something in the air, as Amelia stayed curious onto the sudden weather conditions.

Which meant a short stormy night for them, but a cozy one. As the pair looked at one around their respective features gleamed in the only bright lights of the living room.

The room temperature dropped then rising again for a moment as a wave of shifting sparkles washed over their home. The streets started to brighten up in brighter shades as well.

Every single house was turning into actual color. It felt completely natural and refreshing to the eyes of everyone in town.

~~~~

Instead of black and white, they were all in color now.

~~~~~~~

————

—————

Thanks for reading! Hope you enjoyed this addition to wonderful world of WandaVision. Anything you liked? Let me know 🎶

Tags: @missstrawbs2001 @purpleprincessonfyre @meiramel @gcthvile @rickb-chaos @gaminggirlsstuff @wizzzardofoz @thechoooooosenone @luna-d-marsh @rooster-84 @thecavalrywife @cherrysft and etc

[labselkie]

BLEAARRRHGGHH FNAF JUMPSCARE SFX im thinking. this is rlly rushed because my actual thoughts are wayyyy way too strange and everywhere to properly explain. yup.

“Are you sure you’re alright with me waiting in here?” A sweet voice chirped from the suburban home’s quaint living room.

“Of course!” Agnes responded from her kitchen, her back turned from the connected room. She waved her hand over the beverage in front of her. The insides of Wanda’s spell were quite mysterious to her, that did surmount to her reason for being there, but she found a side project. Ever since the town bloomed with color, something happened with one captive… Lucielle Ardei.

The young woman plopped right down on the edge of the main couch, careful not to disturb the peace of the room. She was definitely the type of woman to ask a million questions. Agatha could tell, not just by the demeanor, but more so her thoughts being more prone than an open book.

She was a sweet thing, fitting into Westview just enough, even if her puzzle piece was a bit frayed. Finally in color, Agatha could really inspect her. Curly brown that bordered on maroon puffed up right at her shoulders, framing a round face and just barely brushing her forest green collared shirt. It was layered over a dark purple shirt that mirrored Agatha’s skirt and similarly dark pants. The witch’s own outfit almost bordered on gothic, and she wouldn’t dwell on it, she just wanted to thank her own powers for allowing her to split from that god forsaken neighbor persona.

What she was mainly proud of, however, was being able to get Lucielle inside. A week or so back, when the town was still cast in grays, she put up a flyer under the guise of her husband- The husband she didn’t have. It was for a bird watching event in her yard, it was a miracle she could read Lucielle’s town character enough to ensure she’d be the only one showing up. And with her closer, she could sense something under that blanket of scarlet mist in the air.

Agnes stepped back into the living room, letting her eyes sweep across the floor to see how the new era spell changed its layout. It looked like it was right out of a cottage, dark antique furniture surrounding an ornate fireplace. She holds a small silvery tray, with a pair of teacups and a steaming pot. “He should be out soon, sweetheart,” She assured as she set the saucers on the coffee table. “I could only convince him to be on time if there was alcohol involved.”

Lucielle feigned a smile, cautiously reaching for one of the two lavender teacups. “Well, you’re probably far more hospitable than him,” She says with a tilt of her head, looking up to the witch with a more genuine smile. With the faint narrowing of her eyes, she looked quite proud of using a term that’d confuse any other brainwashed citizen. Agatha brushes her long skirt forward when she sat on the other side of the velvety couch. She lifts her own teacup, and merely blows on it once before taking a sip.

“Oh, I’ve never been praised so sweetly!” Agatha chuckles, waving her free hand, “Maybe you can enlighten me about whatever birds you’ll be watching.”

Lucielle had to let her tea sit for a few moments, blowing on it much to even be able to stomach it. The sip makes her smile when she’s flooded with its sweetness. Agatha smiles as well, her head raising as she practically looks down her nose at the other woman.

The tea was a potion, of course it was, one that’d allow Agatha to see through the spell. That’s when her eyes widened as Lucielle’s appearance appeared to materialize right in front of her. It wasn’t much, but even with her limited knowledge, she could grasp the idea of this girl as a mutant. Thin maroon feathers grow between her curls, and further down they begin to shift into iridescent slate blues. Her brown irises are now a sharp yellow, and faint cream markings surround her eyes. That’s where her interest in birds came from, Wanda’s spell plucked her mutation and crafted it into just another background character’s personality.

It took everything for Agatha not to snap into action right there. Her face falls slack as she takes this revelation in, but she quickly calms herself when Lucielle looks back.

“I do hope the tea is to your liking,” Agnes saves her staring with a comment, and sets down her cup. She can’t help but lean closer after crossing one leg over the other, and her eyes narrow with a faint smile. That smile just grows when Lucielle nods.

“It’s wonderful! I just hope I’ll find where to buy the bags,” She snickered, before sipping again. The warmth of the drink warmed her heart; quite literally, causing her to shudder slightly and ruffle her feathers.

That’s what did it, Agatha pounced as soon as the mutant finished her tea and returns the cup. She cast her hand to the side and swiftly snapped her fingers, summoning wisps of violet smoke to surround Lucielle’s wrists and ankles. Just at the snap, it was like she was snapped out of the Westview curse as well, causing her to yelp with surprise. She tenses up, her hair and feathers puffed as she sits rigid against the couch.

She wasn’t sure how to feel, the snap brought on a sense of panic from the binding spell, but also one of an innate freedom. “What in the- Miss Harkness what are you!?” Her avian squeaks are cut off by quick tutting sounds from the witch.

“Nothing to worry about! Promise!” The witch’s voice has devolved into her Agnes persona as she attempts to console the mutant.

“Is- Is this your house? Why can’t I remember coming? My wings, my bag, my-“ Agatha’s expression tightened at Lucielle’s panicked pleas, she considered putting her back under the spell… But this was more fun. She sends a band of mist to cover the bird’s mouth, before laughing herself. Lucielle responds with a whine, her heart racing like a rabbit’s in a trap.

“I’ll explain, I’ll explain!” Her more devious explanations have devolved into a fit of giggles. She sits back, leaning her back and an elbow on the velvet behind her, leaving her free hand to gesture Lucielle closer. The coaxing caused the spell to tighten, to jerk her seated stance to lean a bit closer. “I can promise you’re safe, dearest, you’re safer here than out there!” Rather than a slower, more menacing movement, she ruffled Lucielle’s bangs and scattered the brown feathers. “I just have one request: sing me a song, my bird, please?” Agatha’s sharp gaze appeared to soften, but not by much, and its quickly replaced by her smile growing. “You are just the darndest thing… How I’d love to know more about you.”

[rearranging-deck-chairs]

do you think at the end of episode 5 agatha was purposefully trying to provoke billy to see what he would do/what he could do/how powerful he is

bc the game shes playing in that conversation feels like it has two sides to me. half of it feels kinda earnest (even more so if you put the two scenes at the end of ep5 and ep6 back to back bc shes honest abt how she feels abt him) and the other half is clearly not and the motivations for the game shes playing are still obscure to me but i think basically reconnaissance wouldnt be implausible right?

bc theres smth weird with the magic she got from alice, right? smth seems off with that, doesnt seem to work like it should idk

billy interrupts her and so the defensive impulse is to say she couldnt control it bc thats what you would say whether it's true or not, right, hands off the responsability. i dont know if it's true but i kinda think it is (or hope it to be bc i think it'd be so much more fun if she really cant control it) because of the way she responds to his "dont lie to me". she seems taken aback like she actually wouldnt lie to him. idk if she would, i mean, about something important. technically i guess being neighbour agnes was already lying, but i dont know if she has explicitly lied to him in this show? or if she just refuses to answer sometimes rather. if we dont count lies by omission idk what was i saying

oh yeah, so they get interrupted before we can get clarity on the control thing bc billy says "you wanted her power, thats what it's always been about for you, isnt it" and jen says "of course it is, thats what it is about for all of us" so agatha doesnt get a chance to respond to "you wanted her power". personally im not convinced she did mostly bc it seems like a bad strategy and she clearly knows how to lead, right? and she just begged them not to leave her and killing one of them would not be super good for her odds of not leaving her behind would it. just seems like a bad idea, to me, at this point, and i dont think she'd gamble on it, it worsens her chances rn to kill any of this coven it seems to me. purely strategically, i dont think she wants to just suck every one of them dry once theyve served their trial purpose. before they got on the road, sure, that can work but now? nuh-uh "fly together or not at all" if she still needs one of them she needs them all and taking into account the extremely raw witchhunt/mobbing trauma, i can imagine one of her main preoccupations since they got on the road is just to avoid making them all turn on her

so i dont think she wanted alice's power, necessarily, and then billy says "so that what it means to be a witch? killing people to serve your own agenda? not for me" and then she flips tone

and ive seen people say shes angry and like probably i dont really know the mcu and i dont really know the deal with wanda or what agatha might be feel there, i mean understandably pissed off abt the westview situation sure but what i mostly read here is careful curiosity which is why i said reconnaissance earlier. he says "not for me" and she tilts her head like "oh no? isnt it?" and that could be like annoyed scepticism, and im sure it is partly, but i also think theres a part where she wants to know where he stands then. where he stands and how he can be pushed. bc the rules of engagement have shifted now that hes not hiding or hidden and if she wants to know how to manage him she needs to know his buttons. like in episode 3 when she redirected all the witches from the mystery of the sigil back to the goal of the road. "you want to unbind, you want to reverse your fortune, you wanna find out what happened to mommy". she doesnt know why billy is here and she wastes no time trying to find out bc she needs to bc thats where she has a modicum of hope of control here

so when he says no the power is not for me she needs to figure out what does drive him, which might still be power of course despite his claims, but thats what i think the rest of the scene (including ep6) shes doing

she asks him "are you sure?" see how he reacts. she mentions his mother, she taunts him "pet", see if she can provoke him. and she does. on purpose i think. how convinced is he of his principles, how in control is he of his powers, what can he do, what does he want. and perhaps can she destabilise him enough to get the upper hand again

and she does i think again after she climbs out of the mud. or at least hes not above her anymore, not a threat while shes vulnerable and hes justifiably angry abt a murder shes committed. shes back to leading, she emphasises his lack of control and emotionally destabilising murders

[eddysocs]

Always Have (Agatha Harkness x OC)

Summary: Agatha can tell Rebecca is getting ready to bolt. She can’t let that happen, not when they haven’t had their chance in this lifetime.

Word Count: 487

Warnings: Angst

A/N: It gets fluffy at the end, I promise.

Everywhere she went in Westview, there was Agnes. It was getting weird. Way too often to be coincidental. She was scared to confront her. Perhaps it was best to pack her things and leave Westview. She’d thought it impossible once, but something felt different now somehow. So that’s what she did. She went home, packed a bag —essentials mostly— and made to leave, but as she reached the edge of town, her whole world went black.

She woke up in a dimly lit room, sitting in a chair, tied in, in fact. Naturally, she started to panic. "Shh, shh," a voice hushed from the darkness. The woman soon stepped into the light.

"Agnes," she realized aloud. Her heart started to race. She’d been right to try and get out, and this was the proof.

"No. No, no, no! Why don’t you ever remember?" She sounded exasperated. Mad, but not at her, more like at the universe. "It’s Agatha, dear. Always Agatha."

"I don’t understand," Rebecca replied. Had that always been her name and she’d just been hearing it wrong? She could have sworn that wasn’t the case.

"You never do, no matter how many times I’ve loved you." She stepped closer, just enough to reach out and touch her temple. She could never restore her memories of the lives she’d lived before, only the feeling of what they were. "You’re always doomed to forget." With a wave of her hand, she undid the bindings that held her. She’d never meant to hurt or frighten, only stop Rebecca from leaving her once more.

"Wait," Rebecca called after Agatha. Agatha stopped, waited. "You love me?" The words are soft spoken, almost as if Rebecca feared to believe they might be true.

Agatha turned back to her. "I always have," she confirmed.

"I don’t remember," Rebecca admits. Agatha bows her head. This was usually how it went. "But," Agatha looked back up. "I want to," Rebecca finished. This was new territory. It had always ended with Rebecca telling her she was crazy and running from her when she revealed her powers. "When you touched me, it felt…familiar. Safe."

Agatha couldn’t believe what she was hearing. It had to be Wanda's influence, the potency of her magic. Rebecca got up from the chair and walked over to Agatha. It had been ages since they’d been this close. Rebecca looked up into her eyes and regarded her curiously. Agatha held her breath. She should do something, say something. She couldn’t miss this opportunity. It might be the only one in this life of Rebecca's.

Agatha surged forward, knocking Rebecca back a step as she kissed her. She put her arm around her to steady them both, and that’s when she felt Rebecca kiss her back. A tear rolled down Agatha's cheek, and she finally brought herself to pull away, resting her forehead against Rebecca's. "Agatha, I remember. I remember it all."

Forever Tag: @arrthurpendragon, @baubeautyandthegeek, @foxesandmagic, @carmens-garden, @bossyladies, @getawaycardotmp3, @misshiraethsworld, @kmc1989, @curious-kittens-ocs

Rebecca Wildes: @adrianas-ocs-and-such, @dollvi3e

[fuesch]

Trying not to write down every Agatha thought, otherwise I'd sit here forever. So instead have a small selection: Never mind, pretty much full review:

"She's dead though, isn't she, Herb?" - "Oh, she's really most sincerely dead." - "You never know. wink" Hee.

"Get samples from both." Agnes says about the lone body. She must be refering to herself too, I thought. And right after that Agnes find's the brooch - ha, that was fast!

Aw, look at all those Westview citizens getting full names (except for Mrs. Hart) in that opening sequence. While on one hand I'm offended that Agnes's last name isn't Bohner (I just need my boy acknowledged - yeah, I know there should be a moment coming later, but surviving on crumbs is hard, okay?!), on the hand hand I'm glad, because not even "Ralph"'s name is Bohner and I'm still pretty sure that Wanda was the one who gave him that.

Fascinating how Agatha knows/learns all this stuff while still under Wanda's spell. I can imagine that she really learned some of it from Westviewers (I'm so amused that they played along with her true-crime trip), but I can't imagine that "Dennis" or anyone else of them were aware that the Darkhold was destroyed all across the multiverse.

"That witch is gone… and all the copies of the Darkhold with her, leaving you trapped in her distorted spell. But you don't have to stay there, do you?" Well, I guess that confirms that Wanda's death/being gone in some way was needed for Agatha to break free. But what does the Darkhold have to do with it? Or was that just to sum up what Agnes has learned?

I love how Agatha is peeling off her Agnes outfits. And the Halloween ep is still her prettiest WandaVision era. This show's styles (so including episode 2) aren't bad either. I think my favorite is the Alanis Morrisette - Thank U cosplay XD. My only complaint is that her crotch is too light. Justice for the pubes!

Wow, for 3 years Agatha really got to live in that house that she had occupied when she crashed Wanda's Hex party (which from a Bohner standpoint is okay, because it wasn't his anyway). And Wanda has now been gone for, what (cba to look up MoM info), 2 years?

Is this Herb's house or is he just doing gardening for the neighbor who in the Hex was constantly mowing his lawn? Although it's of course possible that this used to be mowing guy's house and now it's Herb's or that they own it together.

Aw, we finally get to see Sarah's daughter, who should be 11 now. Love how amused she is by Agatha being butt naked.

"You can't kill me. It's not allowed." Sounds so meta, because it's Agatha's show, so of course she has plot armor. But I wonder if there's an actual in-universe reason (other than that Agatha thinks highly of herself).

I like that they brought back that magical stiff way of standing up.

Can't wait to find out what Rio's beef with Agatha is. What if Nicholas was Rio's son too and it was Agatha's fault that he is gone? Or did Agatha kill Rio's coven?

Oooh, Rio licked Agatha's hand and now the cut is gone. That power will probably come in handy later.

[themculibrary]

Wanda Maximoff Needs A Hug Masterlist

8 Bullets (ao3) - xocean G, 5k

Summary: She loves her brother. Her brother is dead.

A Colored Life (ao3) - KurayamiNeko wanda/darcy G, 22k

Summary: Wanda breaks apart, but someone comes along to help her back together.

both gone, neither buried (ao3) - soil_to_stars N/R, 1k

Summary: It’s strange, she thinks, for two to come into the world together yet leave it separately. For her, as half of a whole, to leave it completely empty.

found (but not for us) (ao3) - rainbowtie32 wanda/vision T, 1k

Summary: It had been only a matter of days since Vision had kissed Wanda and asked her to stay, and yet she was told it was five years. ... “Tony was your father, right?” She asked, rolling her head to the side so her cheek pressed against the cool brick.

“I- yeah- something like that,” he stuttered.

OR,

At Tony's funeral, Wanda is on the verge of a breakdown. Peter interrupts.

I have this breath and I hold it tight (ao3) - 100indecisions T, 3k

Summary: Steve finally goes to Wanda’s tiny room and taps on the doorframe, although it’s hardly necessary, with the slightly warped floorboards creaking under his feet. “Hey,” he says. “Got a minute?”

Wanda's been a little withdrawn since Steve broke everyone out of the Raft. She's had a lot to think about.

i'll always look best in your head (ao3) - ghoultown wanda/vision T, 308k

Summary: “I’ve been searching for half the day for an indication of humanity and life within myself, but there seems to not be any.” He folds his arms over his chest, defeated, “All of humanity seems so probable, so able to change and communicate and connect and live. So possible. And I just feel so...“

“Impossible?” Bruce points to the screen.

Vision follows his finger. He reads the words at the top, large and bold and simple, feeling his body lurch forward to get closer.

The Impossible Man by Wanda Maximoff.

Vision doesn't have a heart, but he could swear he feels his pulse quicken.

-

Wanda has begun to write a story about a man who cannot exist. Vision is searching for an explanation as to who he is. They seem to meet in the middle.

it's always have and never hold (you've begun to feel like home) (ao3) - remaininganon wanda/natasha G, 3k

Summary: And in that moment, everything clicks. She understands. Because he had taken everything from her.

My take on what was going on in Wanda's mind during the Endgame battle, plus some post-battle scenes that I desperately needed.

Lovely To Finally Meet You (ao3) - Robertdoc T, 10k

Summary: Though Agnes - Agatha Harkness - has revealed herself, she's not done messing with Wanda's mind yet. Not through mind control, but through more painful reminders of what Wanda allowed to happen in Westview, gaslighting her into believing she's exactly the kind of person who would let it happen, and offers to stay in Westview forever that Wanda can't convince herself she should turn down anymore.

Until a blast from a familiar, suddenly rebuilt object brings back a memory of what she really did right before the Hex formed, who she really tried to be even at the lowest point of her life - and who she's finally ready to introduce Agatha to now. But even that may not be enough.

Another attempt at a Wanda character study that doubles as a wish fulfillment/theory for future episodes, tries to explain the still unexplained trailer snippets left, and seeks to give Wanda a real chance to heal and remember she's not just another all powerful woman who went unstable from grief - in case the show forgets to really try in the little time left it gave itself.

More than what they did to us (ao3) - Ryan_Sky G, 5k

Summary: Don’t let a witch get on your ship, you will end up having strange nightmares and a deep conversation about your respective traumatic pasts instead of sleeping.

Or, Wanda and Rocket share a talk about being a lab rat

name one hero who was happy (ao3) - soil_to_stars N/R, 1k

Summary: She’d drawn a mountain once for school. Her name had been written in the corner. It’s gone now, lost in the fire, because whatever her name touches is already gone. Everything her name touches, burns. 

People need Synthezoids (ao3) - bitchjerkwings wanda/vision N/R, 1k

Summary: a one-shot where vision comforts wanda.

She Used To Be Mine (ao3) - Anonymous T, 5k

Summary: "It's a troubling dichotomy in her mind — too dangerous to be around people, too self destructive to be in solitude."

Or — Wanda doesn't know how to be herself anymore. She doesn't know if she can be. All she knows is she can't be alone anymore.

So she calls Clint.

we keep all the hurt you never know (ao3) - Kapua T, 4k

Summary: Her upper lip curls back in a snarl, eyes gleaming wounded-animal bright as a dark wind blows around them. Everyone has been so terrified of her destroying the world for so long now. This is who they have claimed her to be all along; all she is doing is giving them exactly what they always claimed she would, and she can't deny that there is some twisted satisfaction in it.

-

Or: Rubble isn’t exactly a theme you want to see pop up across your lifetime, but it is perhaps the most consistent thing that Wanda has ever known.

what is grief, if not love persevering? (ao3) - hunkahulkaaburningfudge wanda/vision G, 63k

Summary: The Avengers watch their future.

A WandaVision watch-it fic.

you'll be alright, no one can hurt you now (ao3) strawberriesinmoominvalley clint/natasha T, 14k

Summary: The first day was awkward.

Dealing with ex-HYDRA kids was not Natasha’s first rodeo. She’d helped Peter - hell, she’d been brought up in the Red Room. She understood how fucked up things like that could make you. But Pietro and Wanda were different to Peter - they were avoidant to touch, checking for exits in every room they entered.

OR wanda and pietro learn they finally have a home, and are loved. the farm family gains two new members

[randomshyperson]

Illicit Affairs - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Westview was everything Wanda ever wanted, but then came you. Will she be able to resist temptation and curiosity for the safety of her marriage, or what Vision doesn't know can't hurt him?

Warnings: (+18), mentions of smut, strap-on use, fingering, bottom!Wanda, cheating (fuck off vision), Westview mind control and stuff, canon divergence, secret relationship, a bif of angst and betrayal but happy ending| Words: 3.982k

A/N-> This may also be known as my contribution to that Lizzie scene in Love&Death.

dicionary-> kurva dieťa - fuck baby

General Masterlist | Wattpad | AO3

--//--

Westview should be perfect.

A home, a husband, and adorable children to care for.

So why was Wanda so damn bored?

"See you later, Mom!" Was the boys' unison goodbye before they walked out the door, dressed in their school uniforms. 

Wanda isn't sure when or how school for the boys started, but it was part of the routine now. As long as Vision was at work, she had the whole house to herself.

And it was fucking tedious.

She would clean, read a little, and if she was lucky Agnes would visit with some gossip for an hour or two until it was time to pick up the kids. 

Everything is in its proper place.

Until one sunny afternoon, Wanda hears a motorcycle.

She is not the only one who is curious about the sounds - Agnes and the neighbor across the street, Mrs. Bennet, are also on the sidewalk, trying to get a better look at who is arriving at the house next to Wanda's.

It is noisy, and out of the norm. The vehicle, the sound of the radio. The person, with dark jeans like glasses, and messy hair.

Something in Wanda's chest flutters as she meets your gaze, and she swallows dryly at the complete coldness in your eyes in turning away and getting off the bike, ignoring not only her but all the other curious neighbors as you make your way to the house next door, now with the 'sold' sign covering the previous 'for sale'.

She is back in her own living room in record time, her heart racing in a disconcerting way.

Well, that seems to be the end of the boredom at least.

For the next few days, Wanda is determined to find out everything she can about her mysterious new neighbor. Luckily for her, Agnes seems equally interested and shows up at her house shortly after the kids have left.

"[...] No children, or partners. The moving truck arrived earlier today, and I saw some painting supplies, which suggests we have an artist among us." Narrated the neighbor cheerfully, and Wanda tried to disguise how very interested she was. "Ralph also recognized an NYU sweatshirt, so she must have a degree. And she looks pretty young to me, doesn't she?"

Wanda nods, half thoughtfully. Your house was next door to hers, and at this point, she could hear some sounds of objects being dragged around that suggested you were tidying up the place. Agnes took advantage of the distracted silence to suggest:

"Maybe we should say hello?"

Wanda immediately raised her eyes. "You think?"

The older woman chuckled. "Of course. But let's bring something as a welcome gift to her. May I ask, are you good at baking, honey?"

You were wearing a half-open jumpsuit and pinned up your hair to answer the door, and Wanda was seeing too much skin to be able to say anything. 

Thank god Agatha was present.

"Welcome to the neighborhood, darling, we've brought you a welcome gift." She greeted cheerfully, and you blinked in surprise at her sudden arrival. "I'm Agnes, Wanda's next-door neighbor on the right. And you?"

You quickly said your name, accepting the other's greeting. "Let me put that away." You said as your gaze fell on Wanda and the cake she brought. She didn't notice that you took the warm package without any difficulty, busy returning Agnes's look of complicity as she took your cue of leaving to enter the house as well.

"Nice changes you're making all around, dear." Agnes commented on the new paint being put over the old, and you let out a short chuckle from the living room.

"Oh, thank you. I like this color better." You muttered as you placed the cake on the countertop.

"Forgive us for not coming sooner, we were waiting for you to stabilize yourself first." Said the older woman, and gave Wanda a gentle nudge for her silence. The witch cleared her throat softly, trying to start a decent conversation.

She - More Agnes honestly - ended up confirming that you had moved in alone and that you had just graduated from college. No family, and in your words, you allowed a dice to pick your new town. Agnes found the story a bit absurd, but Wanda felt her stomach fill with butterflies.

Something about your care·free attitude and casualness made her shiver. 

"Anyway, I'm here now." You finish with a small smile and your hands in your pockets. "Painting my new home in American suburban New Jersey."

There was regret or sarcasm hidden in your tone of voice that made Wanda's curiosity explode. She wanted to know you, inside out, every thought, dream, or wish.

But when she thought of peeking in, Agnes gave her a gentle nudge.

"Well, let's not take up any more of your time, dear." Said the lady, discreetly pushing the redhead toward the door. "Come by some time at the local club, you need to meet Ralph and Vision."

You blink, raising an eyebrow. "Vision?"

"My husband." Wanda replies half hoarsely, having completely forgotten Vis's existence for all that conversation. She clears her throat. "You two should-must meet. Him and my boys, Tommy and Billy."

You smile, and because Wanda is already outside, you put an arm around the doorpost and she feels her face heat up. "I'd love to, Miss Maximoff."

Agnes clears her throat. "And of course don't forget my husband, Ralph."

You don't take your eyes off Wanda. "Sure, Agatha."

Wanda frowns, but the woman next to her lets out a loud exclamation with a graceless laugh. "It's Agnes, dear!"

You blink away from the redhead, equally ungainly. "Oh, yes, of course, Agnes. My mistake."

"Come on, Wanda, let's just let her get back to work."

You offer the redhead a wink, and it's enough for Wanda to remember nothing strange about that encounter.

—//—-

Not that Wanda was counting, but it took six days for her to talk to you again.

She saw you before though - twice in the supermarket, and because Billy and Tommy were making a mess, Wanda didn't have the heart to disturb your choice of apples by approaching you, you didn't see her. And on Monday she watched you leave the house early with a little animal house under your arm, and she almost dropped her lunch to run and ask you about it, wondering if you had pets or not, but on second thought, she figured it would have been kind of creepy.

It was only on the weekend that you went to the club, and everyone was around, and Wanda thought she was going to suffocate.

Vision was rubbing sunscreen on the boys, and Wanda said she forgot a magazine in the car, but she just searching for you.

"Hey, stranger." She tried to greet you in the most casual way she could, getting the impression that you were a little startled by the soft jump you gave. But when you turned around, you smiled so sincerely that Wanda almost melted.

"Hello, Miss Maximoff, good to see you." You said gently.

Wanda giggled shyly. "When you call me that I feel very old."

You smiled with the worst intentions, licking your lips and making Wanda shudder with the intensity of your gaze.

"Old is not an adjective I would use to describe you, Wanda."

She sighed softly, her cheeks warm. "And how would you describe me?" She risks.

But you chuckle short and affected, lowering your gaze and shaking your head softly. "Married." You reply, and Wanda feels as if a bucket of cold water has fallen on her. "See you around, Miss Maximoff." You say as soon as the bike is locked, holding her arm in farewell before heading to the pool area. 

Wanda feels her skin tingle all the way back.

–//–

Okay, she clearly had a problem.

Her perfect life was being threatened by an inconvenience, and that should be completely impossible because everything should be perfect in Westview.

And the more Wanda tried to fix it, the more wrapped up in her throbbing attraction to her neighbor, drowning in plot after plot that only made her wonder how much she wanted to satisfy her curiosity and drove her more frustrated and irritated as time went by.

You seemed to be everywhere - Somehow, the school had an art program and now Wanda saw you every morning when she went to pick up or drop off Billy and Tommy, and of course, the boys loved their cool new teacher, and wouldn't shut up about it. But your presence seems to have influenced - in Vision's words - the young troublemakers in the neighborhood, who should be learning from your bad influence to do graffiti everywhere. Vision grumbled about this when not talking about work.

And Wanda, well, she had enough.

You found the knocking so late at night strange, but you were awake - or Wanda assumed you were, by the sweater and the speed in answering the door. Or maybe you were already waiting for her. No, that would be ridiculous.

"Can I help you...?" You started, but Wanda bumped into your shoulder as she rushed in, and you let out a wry laugh. "Sure, come on in."

She ignored your joke, making her way to the living room, and ran a hand through her hair nervously, waiting for you to reach her.

"What do you want Wanda?" You asked with your arms crossed.

Wanda took a deep breath. "You have to leave."

You frowned. "Excuse me?"

She stepped forward. "I have everything I ever wanted here. You can't just show up and threaten all of that."

You raised an eyebrow. "I don't-"

"I'm not done talking." She interrupts and you bite your tongue, a smile threatening to break on your lips as Wanda continues to approach. "I have a husband and children. It's perfect. Everything is...perfect."

"Then why are you here?" You challenge, and Wanda swallows hard.

"I don't know." She responds, but you chuckle, and it's your turn to start approaching to which she responds by taking a step back with each one you take near her. Once her back hits the wall of new, dry colors, Wanda chokes softly.

"I think I know." You begin toward her, one hand landing at the side of her head, and the other reaching up to move a strand of hair behind her ear. Wanda, though trembling over the touch, lifts her chin proudly, challenging your response. Your smile is cocky when you speak. "You are desperate to feel something real."

Wanda opens her mouth, once and twice, indignant. But she has no words to disagree. She takes a deep breath, and all your perfume fills her senses, and she resists the urge to close her eyes. She makes mention of speaking, but you do so first.

"Shh, let me show you how it is supposed to feel." You whisper before breaking the distance, and not too surprisingly, it is the best thing Wanda has ever felt. 

Your lips are soft and experienced on hers, almost as if molded to kiss her. You slide your tongue into hers as soon as permission is granted, and the sensation makes Wanda's legs buckle. She doesn't have to worry because your arms tighten around her and her back is pressed against the wall. The kiss grows hungry and you gasp against each other's mouths, hearts racing in synchrony.

"Fuck, I need to touch you." You pant between kisses, and it's the only line of warning Wanda has before she feels your hands invade her blouse, scratching at her belly and making her squirm. But suddenly you hesitate, and are almost unsure when you ask, "Can I? You... are you sure?"

Wanda almost laughs. She feels that she is burning from the inside out and that if you don't fuck her now she might have a little breakdown and you still have doubts that she wants to. There will be another time for her to investigate this, she will learn about you. At that moment she just brings one hand to your neck and spins you around on the wall so that your back hits the concrete.

And now when she kisses you it is firm and possessive and makes you whimper. Your hands wander and bring her pleasure, but it is clear who is in charge.

–//–

It starts out casual, but certainly, this is not how Wanda feels now.

Whenever the opportunity is there, she takes it. And honestly, part of her feels that the opportunities are blooming like flowers in spring. It's probably because Westview is supposed to be perfect, good, and amazing, and the only time she feels that way is in your company.

You haven't given a name to what you are doing, and Wanda doesn't want to think about the ring on her finger, not when you make her feel so good.

So you keep meeting her; with more and more ridiculous excuses than the previous ones, helping with a broken pipe, bringing supplies of paint even though Wanda doesn't paint anything, bringing schoolwork that the kids could pick up the other day, helping to mow the lawn, staying the afternoon for cake, tea, helping her with the grocery bags. And these were just the days that happened in her house.

After a while, you got the impression that Wanda didn't even worry about excuses anymore. Maybe it was your fault - for the way you have grown jealous of Vision and she knows it. She knows not because she tries to scan every inch of your mind in her frustrated attempts, but because every time you witness Vision showing any kind of affection, she is at the forefront of a rough and intense fucking session.

Like when Vision left for work last week while you were collecting the newspaper in your backyard and he thought it was a sweet idea to come back and kiss her before he left, and you barely waited for the kids to leave for school to come in the back door and fuck Wanda in the kitchen counter. 

Without her magic, she wouldn't be able to hide the marks of your lips on her body.

And despite the risk, Wanda loves it. 

But then it starts to scare her because she just might love a different thing.

Westview is a ticking time bomb. Wanda doesn't know it, but you do. Things happen to the breaking point, and it's in everything-from starting to ask questions that would require a little more thought that will make people stutter at the fantasy flaws, to immensely more pleasurable things, like affecting Wanda enough.

"Ah- kurva dieťa!" She cursed breathlessly, shuddering beneath you, her nails digging hard into your back. But your movements didn't fail, the fake cock thrusting inside her wet pussy with a delicious precision that made Wanda see stars. "D-don't stop-don-ah!"

You ripped orgasm after orgasm, until she was exhausted, begging for a break, the wet sheets of her juices beneath you.

"Just one more, my love. Just one more." You coerced so meekly that Wanda almost came with your voice alone, and this time your hands entwined with hers at the side of her head. And it was too intimate.

Your thrusts were deep, and with each movement of your hips, Wanda gasped, struggling for air as the knot in her belly prepared to break.

Her room around you however began to fail. The illusion sustained by her magic vibrating as if the transmission was failing. The sound drew you in, but as soon as your movement faltered and you made mention of looking away, she brought a firm hand to your chin and pulled you down as she entwined a leg around your waist.

She looked absurdly stunning beneath you, and there was no interest in looking away from her.

Wanda came so hard that the whole room vibrated, and you followed her, getting a satisfied moan when she felt the hot cum inside her.

You held her for the entire moment as you both calmed down from your orgasms, and this time, when you went to get up as you always did, she held you back.

"But..."

"No." She interrupted sleepily, pulling you back onto the bed so that she could hold you and lay on top of you. "No one will come. Stay here with me."

You didn't question, sliding your hands to wrap around her.

–//–

You're not surprised that Agatha rats you out. Time bomb after all. 

Still, seeing the look of hurt in Wanda's eyes breaks your heart into a thousand pieces.

"You too?" She asks with tears in her eyes, powerless in that dark basement you have just entered. 

"It's not what you're thinking." You try, but Agatha rolls her eyes impatiently.

"No time for Shakesperean drama, be honest, Y/N. Wanda is in need of facing the truth, for once in her life." Ironizes the witch, and you swallow dryly, taking a step forward but remembering not to cross the determined space of the runes.

"Witches everywhere have felt your magic, Wanda. But only a few have made it into Hex." You say. "Each came here with their own reasons."

"And why are you here?" Wanda asks wearily, and you sigh.

"It's hard to explain..."

"Nonsense." Agatha cuts in again, gesturing. "We all want power, in one way or another. No more games, or drama. Everyone wants to know how you did it, Wanda, and it's time for you to show us."

The redhead gives you one last hurt look before raising her chin to the older witch.

And you know she won't give anything up without a fight.

She wins, and Agatha is trapped in the only remaining illusion of what was once Westview.

You watch from a distance as Wanda goes to say goodbye to her family, and you don't intrude on that moment. You wouldn't want her to hate you even more.

Your motorcycle really is yours, so it is what you drive to get out of town.

Your grandparents' cabin has been your home since you completed your training at the Kamar Taj - and since you gave it all up for a quiet life in the mountains. 

You only have a few days since Westview in your familiar solitude, however.

"You are unbelievable." That's the first thing Wanda says as she appears in your yard, impatient and angry. "After everything that happened between us, you just walked away?"

You blink in surprise at the scene for a moment, but recover when she starts walking toward you.

"I thought you didn't want to talk to me."

"Oh, but you will talk." She retorts with a poisoned sarcasm as she grabs your wrist to pull you inside the cabin. "You'll explain everything."

"Yes, ma'am." You murmured affectedly, Wanda pushing you in the first armchair and crossing her arms and tapping a foot, waiting.

You cleared your throat and told her everything - From the Hex power emission that alerted the Kamar Taj and made Wong recruit you to investigate, to the fact that you in theory were in Westview to undo the spell but you ended up getting distracted.

Wanda ignored the redness of your cheeks. "But Agatha said you wanted power."

You rolled your eyes. "That nosy old hag." You grumbled. "She was distorting things, but the way it all went down, I figured you wouldn't believe me. She had you in a basement and your kids locked up, and I was there, you see? Even if I tried to explain the whole story, you wouldn't believe me."

"And why didn't you help me? Why did you let her take the boys?" Inquired the impatient witch, and you swallowed dryly, bowing your head guiltily.

"I'm sorry, I... I have to admit that I wanted to see where that would go." You say, taking a deep breath. "Wanda it was all an illusion in that town. It was the best kind of magic I've ever witnessed, and when I arrived, Agatha approached me first. She told me that she was also there to investigate and that we didn't need to get in each other's way, we could even help each other."

Wanda narrowed her eyes. "In what way?"

You swallow dryly again. "I was there to undo the spell, and Agatha, well, she's a special kind of witch. She didn't lie, you know? When she said she takes power from those who don't deserve it. I heard that she made some kind of magical bargain, and now she is a collector. She would take your power and the spell would undo itself, so we'd both go home with what we wanted." You recount and settle uncomfortably on the couch, "B-but that was before you and I..."

Wanda looks away, running a hand through her hair. "We didn't mean anything, Y/N." 

A hint of pain hits your chest, but you give a sad laugh, "You're full of shit."

But your accusation makes Wanda look at you with tear-filled eyes. "You were going behind my back, waiting for the right moment to stab me. Everything we had was a lie, a game for you to gain my trust and make me vulnerable. You're the one who's full of shit."

You sigh, getting up. "A witch kidnapped a town and held the entire population hostage. I was offered a deal, I took it." You begin seriously. "I had no idea who you were, what was going on. It was never personal. I went there to accomplish my mission, and I never thought I would fall in love with you." Wanda's eyes widen, but you are not intimidated by her shock, and you continue talking, taking another step forward. "I didn't know how Westview worked exactly, but everything was all too real there. You had a family, a husband. And you were my target. And I was completely surrendered to you. You have to understand, Wanda, that I had to consider all the possibilities. That maybe you were enchanting me too, that everything that happened was just part of your desires reflected in the magic. Agatha knew how to use my uncertainties against me when I confronted her, wishing to end our partner because I didn't want you to get hurt."

Wanda's gaze softens, and when your hand reaches for her cheek, she doesn't pull away. 

You smile, "But I didn't have to worry. You totally kicked her ass."

Wanda moves her hand up to your wrist. "You could have told me." She whispers. "Or at least allowed me to take a look."

You smile in a corner, bringing your other hand to her cheek and enjoying the way Wanda leans into your touch.

"Haven't you ever heard the saying that we should only share our thoughts with our spouses?" You tease, rubbing your nose against hers and Wanda chuckles softly, sighing when your lips touch hers.

The kiss is tender, full of longing. And before she can deepen it, you break off, taking a deep breath with your forehead pressed against hers.

"You've got the book." You gasp softly, feeling the magical aura now. Wanda frowns softly, pulling her face away just to look at you. 

"Do you know it?" 

Her question makes you hesitate. But you force a smile and nod. Wanda catches every reaction, and proceeds to add:

"It is my only way to understand what I am." 

You swallow dryly, your hands caressing her cheeks.

"Just promise me that no matter what the book shows you, you will remember that I am here. You're not alone."

Wanda doesn't understand at first, a mixed expression of confusion and curiosity fills her face. But she nods, and breaks the distance, whispering I promise between kisses.

You both stumble into the bedroom, and the darkhold is left somewhere in the dining hall.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

Agatha Harkness in black and white falling for R and being jealous of Wanda and Dottie

a/n: hi! thank you so much for this request! hopefully you enjoy this <3 i kinda…went off prompt here - sorry

word count: 1.1k

warning(s): fluff - jealousy - mentions of mind control

Distraction

Agatha wanted to scold herself. She was in Westview for one reason and one reason only: discover Wanda Maximoff’s secrets then steal her power. That was the plan. But, the second she laid eyes on you, a minor character with potential in Wanda’s mental screenplay, the plan started to twist and reform in her mind. 

 Tapping her fingertips against the countertop in an annoyed fashion, Agatha watched as you laughed along to scripted jokes with Wanda and Dottie. The redhead had her hand on your arm and Dottie had an arm around your waist, pulling you closer to her. The housewarming party thrown by Vision to celebrate their move into Westview was supposed to be a chance for Agatha to see how deep this ran. Shifting in her spot, Agatha noticed Wanda’s gaze on her, concerned yet also wary - like she knew Agatha’s secret. Quickly, the dark witch realized she had been glaring and plastered on a plastic smile, raising her drink at you and the two women, stopping the tapping on the countertop. She turned to refill her drink and when she turned back around, Agatha almost startled. Wanda, Dottie, and you were walking towards the kitchen, your laughter carrying through the air. 

“Agnes, are you quite alright? You look a little, well, green.” Dottie exclaimed with a snide tone, raised an eyebrow towards Agatha, a knowing haughty look in her eyes. Smiling with gritted teeth, Agatha nodded. 

“Oh, I’m just peachy,” Agatha’s eyes trailed down to the arm wrapped around your waist, “If you would excuse me.”

Agatha wouldn’t admit it ever, but she practically ran into the other room, hiding amongst Vision’s coworkers and other unnamed characters - most likely other neighbors. Leaning against the wall, Agatha sighed, shaking her head and pinching the bridge of her nose. She was reacting stupidly, loosing track of her goals. You probably weren’t truly you, your current personality and stature of Wanda’s demented creation. That train of thought had the opposite affect on Agatha, who started to want to free you from the mental prison of Westview. Agatha was so lost in her inner thoughts that she didn’t see you approach her hesitantly, your hands wringing and company bare as Wanda and Dottie stayed back to discuss their husbands.

“Agnes?” Your voice was soft, almost fearful, as you acknowledged the brunette. You didn’t know why but she nosy neighbor gave off a dangerous aura, one you seemed the only one to notice. Despite the aura, you also felt safe around the woman - no matter how ridiculous that sounded.

Everyone was safe in Westview, you had no reason to panic.

Agatha snapped her eyes towards you, taking in your cautious form. Your hair was styled in the fashion of the period, your attire of the same. It was enough for Agatha to realize your situation, how she should try and put aside the feelings she had grown, so she could focus on helping you by stopping Wanda.

“I know you said you were alright but,” you let out a sigh, “you just looked so darn mad when you looked over at us. Have I done something to offend you?”

Agatha was quick to reassure you, hooking her arm through yours to pull you close. Your breath hitched at the proximity, your eyes going wide as you looked into her…you couldn’t tell what color her eyes were. Why couldn’t you tell? 

Agatha saw the panic in your eyes and gave you a comforting smile.

“Hun, you look like you need some fresh air.”

Nodding, you agreed, letting Agnes walk you to the Vision households front yard. The air did help, the smell of gardenias and roses soothing whatever foul thought had invaded your mind. You couldn’t even remember what startled you so much.

“Y/N-” Agnes couldn’t finish what she was going to say before the voices of Wanda and Dottie interrupted her. You watched as Agnes’s lips pursed, annoyed, as she subtly glared at the pair. Her negative expression melted away into one of jovial once Wanda set her eyes on her neighbor.

“Oh, there you are Y/N! Dottie and I were very worried, we wanted to see if you had decided if you wanted to join us on our brunch tomorrow?”

Agatha didn’t like the look in Wanda’s eyes, one reflected in Dottie’s own as well. She wrapped an arm around your waist, pulling you close to her chest as she gave the two women a totally real apologetic look.

“Well, it seems there’s been a clash of plans! Darling Y/N here has plans with me that morning!”

Wanda paused before continuing.

“Oh, then what about lunch?”

“Our plans will probably go into the afternoon.”

“What about-”

“Dinner as well.”

You just stood as the three women stared each other down, Agnes eventually winning with a smile. Wanda gave Agnes a look you couldn’t interpret and the neighbors hold on your waist tightened slightly. The two women walked away towards the house and you slowly pulled out of Agnes’s grasp, giving her a confused yet also amused stare. Before she could tell you what that whole exchange was about, it clicked in your mind.

“Agnes…were you jealous?” Your tone was teasing, causing Agatha to blush furiously.

“You don’t have to be jealous, Agnes, I’m your friend as well. I would be delighted to spend apparently all of tomorrow with you.” While your tone was light, it caused a sinking feeling in Agatha’s stomach.

Friend.

For a moment, Agatha had forgotten where she was, what was going on. She didn’t truly know how deep the 50s aesthetic ran, she needed to be careful in her future actions.

The almost defeated look on Agnes’s face made you pause and another thought swirled in your mind, one that fueled hope through your whole body. Anxiety also appeared as you braced yourself for your next words.

“Or were you jealous for a…different reason?”

Agatha’s eyes snapped to stare deep into yours, a look in your eyes telling her it was you speaking - not Wanda. You took a step closer to the brunette, your heart pounding as you anxiously awaited her answer. Your silly crush had taken over your mind, keeping you awake at night as you wondered what your feeling meant. Agatha licked her lips before nodding only once, almost unnoticeable. But you noticed. A giant, bright smile grew on your face as you took Agnes’s hands into yours.

“Once again, you don’t have to be jealous.”

Agatha knew having a distraction during her mission was a bad idea but when you were looking at her with such unbridled joy, maybe having a distraction could be a blessing in disguise.

a/n: sorry if this is bad! thank you so much for reading!💜💜 requests are closed for now but if you want to come scream at me about anything, my inbox/dms are always open for converation

[aparticularbandit]

Sleepwalking in Westview

Summary: After the Snap, Wanda creates the Hex, and she still sleepwalks. Fortunately for her, she brought someone else back to comfort her.

Follow up to Sleepwalking.

Wanda Maximoff/Natasha Romanov Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness Rating: G.

word count: 2221

The Snap comes and goes, and Wanda’s subconscious creates the Hex and keeps it all running, and when she sleeps, she walks.

Vision stays slumbering in his separate bed, and Wanda’s subconscious leads her to an entire other bedroom, where someone else her subconscious has created sits, waiting on her.  She looks on this version of Nat with glazed green eyes, and even if she should not be able to see her, really, some part of her does, the subconscious part of her that leads her to this room in the first place.  Nat holds her arms open; Wanda climbs into them gratefully, curls up against her, and rests her head on her chest.

“I miss you.”

“You’re sleepwalking again.”  Nat runs her fingers through Wanda’s hair.  “You’re stressed.”

“You died,” Wanda accuses, whining, but she doesn’t cry.  Her subconscious can be honest in a way that her conscious absolutely refuses to be because her subconscious is what has created all of this, is what knows the truth even as she consciously chooses to fall into the sitcom unreality of it all. This moment, with Nat, is real. True.

Even if Nat, herself, is not.

“Clint needed to go to home his family.  They couldn’t—”

“You needed to come home to me.”

Wanda can’t help it; she interrupts before Nat can even finish.  She’s heard all of these excuses before, and she knows why Nat made the decision she did, and right now, it doesn’t matter. Because this isn’t Nat, not really. She would never really accuse Nat.  Not like she is now.  Besides, what is the point in accusing her when she could just enjoy her company? Enjoy what she has created?

Consciously, this is what she would do.  Subconsciously—

“You had Vis,” Nat murmurs without judgment, still stroking Wanda’s hair.  “You didn’t need—”

“That’s a bad excuse.”  Wanda buries her head in Nat’s chest.  “Vis died before you did.  No fixing the Snap was going to bring him back.  You should have known that.”

“I had hope.”

This is the first time there is a lull in the conversation; Wanda can’t say anything to that – no, she can; she just won’t.  There isn’t anything worth saying.  And Nat….

She can’t speak for Nat, even if, technically speaking, a part of her probably is.

Nat’s hand moves from Wanda’s hair to her back, shorn nails scratching lightly through an even lighter shirt.  “You can rebuild, Wanda.  I’ve seen you do it before.  With me, with Vis – you can get there.  But Clint—” Her brow furrows, and she stares off into space.  “I did okay without my family.  It killed something in him.  He spent the entire Snap trying to die, and I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction.”

Wanda shifts and glances up, eyes still glazed over.  “Let’s…let’s not talk about this.  It won’t….”  She doesn’t finish the sentence.  It won’t change anything.  It won’t do any good.  It won’t….

It won’t.

She shivers, and Nat pulls her closer, not saying another word.

~

The next morning, Wanda wakes in the same bed in which she first fell asleep, and everything with Nat filters through her mind like a dream.

The next evening, Wanda sleeps again, and she walks again, and she curls up in the arms of someone else who is not really there.

Just because it becomes less a pattern and more a habit doesn’t mean she has to know about it.

~

The first time Wanda sees Agnes, her heart gives a little tug.  It’s a small thing, familiar at best, but something she can shove down, especially over conversations of anniversaries and marriage and moving.  But it gives another little ping when her new neighbor mentions seduction techniques and yet another entirely when she agrees in an all too suggestive tone of voice that Wanda definitely already has them. It flutters as the other woman talks, as she pays such intentional attention to her.

She likes it.

She hates it.

“What’s the threat?” Nat asks her later, as her fingers thread through Wanda’s hair and slowly begin to braid it.

“I’m married—”

“No, you’re not.”  Nat yanks on her hair a little too hard, and Wanda presses her lips together tight.  “Vis is just as real as I am, and you know that.”

Wanda glances down to her fingers, fidgets again, taps them against her ankles where they are crossed beneath her.  “I shouldn’t be doing all of this.  I should be….”  Her voice trails off.  She’s not sure what she would be doing if she wasn’t doing this.  And everyone seems happy.  She can’t take that from them.

She can’t take it from herself.

Nat tugs a little too hard again.  “What’s the threat, Wanda?” She layers another bundle of strands into the others, pulling in more as she continues to braid.  “Why are you so afraid?”

“I’m not afraid,” Wanda lies.  She bites her lower lip.  “I should have kissed you.  I wanted to, you know.”  She waits for Nat to acknowledge that she knew; she must have known.  Nat had been so good at noticing everything else.  There’s no way she hadn’t known.  It was why Wanda hadn’t ever done anything – she’d thought, if Nat knew, then she would do something.  She would make the move.  But in the silence, she has to admit….

No.

She doesn’t have to admit anything.

“You still can,” Nat says instead, finishing the braid and giving the end a little pat before wrapping her arms around Wanda’s waist and resting her chin on her shoulder.  “It’s not like I’m going anywhere.”

“It’s not the same.”

“No,” Nat murmurs.  “It isn’t.”

~

In the light, Wanda lives with Vis and she stares at Agnes and she wonders.

In the dark, Wanda sleepwalks to Nat and she curls up against her and she considers.

A pattern – a habit – as surely as the first, but with no answers and no change.

~

Once – just once – Wanda stumbles by accident, and Agnes catches her.

She apologizes profusely afterwards, explains quite clearly that it was nothing more than an accident, but Agnes gives her a knowing look and agrees in the same tone that she’d agreed Wanda already had seduction techniques.  She isn’t sure if it makes her uncomfortable, or if—

“It was an accident,” Wanda insists to Nat later.  “I wasn’t trying to seduce her!  I just tripped!”

Nat listens and nods and then says, “It wouldn’t hurt you to move on.”

Wanda shoots her a look.  “I’m not moving on.  I have you. I have Vis.  I don’t need anything—”

“You don’t really have us.”  Nat leans forward on her elbows and meets Wanda’s eyes. “You know that, don’t you?”

Wanda looks away, unable to hold her gaze.  “I do for now,” she says, finally.  “I don’t need anyone else.”

She waits for Nat to disagree, to tell her that she won’t be able to maintain this forever, to run a hand along her back and comfort her.  But Nat doesn’t do any of that.  Instead, she leans closer and gently – so gentle that Wanda wouldn’t believe she had if she hadn’t seen the movement – she kisses her forehead. Then she brushes loose strands of Wanda’s hair back out of her face.  “We loved you, you know.”  She doesn’t hesitate when she continues, when she emphasizes, “I loved you.”

“You still love me now.”

Wanda doesn’t want to ask.  Her fingers fiddle with each other, unable to remain still.  “When you died,” she says, careful, unsure that she wants to hear the answer, unsure that Nat as she is now would be truthful with her, “when you died to bring us all back, who were….”  She takes a deep breath.  The words should all come out in a rush.  They don’t. “Who were you thinking of?”

Nat just smiles.

~

Three days later, Nat says, firm as anything, “Take the risk, Wanda.”

She doesn’t say, “You didn’t take it on me.  Don’t regret it this time.”

Wanda hears it all the same.

~

This time, when Wanda stumbles, it’s intentional.  (She may have been lying before when she said it wasn’t.  She can’t be sure.)

This time, when Agnes catches her, she says, “You aren’t trying to seduce me, are you, Wanda, dear?”

This time, Wanda takes a deep breath, straightens herself, runs her hands from her cinched waist along her pleated skirt, and asks, “What if I am?” before turning to Agnes, before meeting her eyes.  Not green, like Nat’s, but blue, like Vision’s.  Not like Vision’s.  A real color, the kind his can only reflect.

One corner of Agnes’s lips lifts.  “I’m not a man, hon.  Those silly old techniques won’t work on me.”

Again, Wanda takes a deep breath, and she asks, “What will?”

In the pause between breaths, Wanda’s heart tugs again, painful this time, as Agnes examines her.  She feels it – that same fear – the possibility of rejection, the concern that even attempting this change will only cause her friend to push her away, to want nothing to do with her.  Nat never would have.  She still hadn’t been able to act.

“If I were trying to seduce you,” Agnes says, finally, eyes trailing up Wanda’s form and finally landing on her eyes, “how would you want me to do it?”

Wanda hesitates.  She hates that she hesitates.  Then she takes Agnes’s hands in her own and draws her over to the couch, sits with her there, and keeps her hands in her own, running her thumb gentle along their back. “I…I would want you to tell me that…that you needed to tell me something.  That you…that you started having feelings for someone, the strongest that you’d had in a long time.”

“Not that I’d never felt this way before?” Agnes asks, one brow raising.

“No.”  Wanda gives a little shake of her head.  “I know you have Ralph, and I have Vision, and I’m not going to lie to myself and think that you haven’t…that you haven’t loved someone else before.”

Wanda waits for Agnes to ask her if this is love she’s talking about, but she doesn’t.  Instead, she says, “Suppose I said all that, hon.  What would you say?”

“Oh, you’re married, Agnes.”  Wanda’s tone is exact, perfect, but she doesn’t follow the mannerisms she would if this were a real conversation, doesn’t make a dismissive hand motion and walk away.  Instead, she stays right where she is.  “Who is he?  I’m sure Ralph would hate to hear about all of this.”

Agnes smiles, demure, in a way that seems odd on her.  “Ralph’s just a dream, dear.  Don’t worry about him.”

“Oh, but you didn’t answer my question.  Who is he, Agnes?”  Wanda’s gaze trails away, and she’s unable to meet Agnes’s eyes.  “He must be an awful good-looking fella, if he’s pulling you away from Ralph.”

Agnes gives Wanda’s hands a little squeeze.  “Promise you won’t hate me.”

“I could….”  Wanda’s gaze drops to where their hands are still tangled together.  “I could never hate you, Agnes.  I think you know that.”

For a moment, Agnes doesn’t say anything, and Wanda is convinced she’s refusing her role.  She glances up, but Agnes’s eyes are still on her.  “What would I say then, hon?”

Wanda flushes, cheeks scarletting.  For once, she doesn’t look away.  “You’d tell me it was me.”

“And then?” Agnes asks, meeting her eyes, holding her gaze.  “What would you do?”

This is it.  This is the moment.  Wanda feels it like a stone weighing down the center of her chest, constricting her, not letting her move.  She takes another deep breath, not unsure of what to do, but afraid, afraid, afraid.  Living with regret would be so much easier.  She could pretend that everything went exactly the way it was supposed to, exactly the way she wanted, just the same that the world is now, conforming to just the way her subconscious desires (not that she’s consciously aware of that yet).

Fantasies are nice, maybe.  But the real thing….

Wanda squeezes Agnes’s hands a little too tight, crosses the admittedly small distance between them, and kisses her.  She breaks away quickly, flushing a bright scarlet, eyes dropping. “I’m sorry,” she says immediately. “I’m sorry, that’s not—”

Then Agnes takes one of her hands gently from Wanda’s.  Wanda’s heart sinks, until Agnes traces her jaw with one fingertip.  Her breath hitches as her friend lifts her chin until their eyes meet again.  She bites her lower lip.  “Agnes, you don’t have to—”

“Stop apologizing, hon,” Agnes says, pressing her thumb into Wanda’s chin, “and let me kiss you back.”

Wanda’s eyes widen, and her lips just part.  Oh. Her throat closes up. She doesn’t know what to say.  She’s not sure she could say anything even if she wanted.  Especially not as Agnes brushes her nose against hers, as she feels Agnes’s breath hot on her lips.

Agnes kisses her, and Wanda melts.

(So does the Hex, although Wanda doesn’t realize that until after, doesn’t notice until Agnes breaks away enough to give her pause, and even then, she doesn’t notice, too focused on drawing closer to her, on threading her fingers easy through Agnes’s surprisingly soft hair, on kissing her again, and again, and again.)