#she is a magic child just like billy and tommy

[raventrigonsdaughter]

Ok theory time, i think agatha did "walk" and left the road, but i also think the witch that was with her was not Rio, i think it was her mother, i think she was still pregnant with Agatha and that the baby was Evanora's wish, she's a child born from the road, she never entered it, she was conceived in the road by a wish and/or born in/from it and therefore is the only known witch to have survived but has no true experience only what her mother who was very keen on saying she was born evil told her. The roads plays tricks on how it works and there are some weird things about agatha herself that make me think there is more to her than just being a "con artist" as jac herself calls her, after all billy's reading did say she was truthful

[lostreverb]

DAD!RALPH BOHNER HEADCANONS

a/n: if we're gonna call him a dilf might as well write about it! also he gives girl dad vibes so we're going with that! AND SORRY ABOUT THE ANGST I'M LIKE ADDICTED TO WRITING IT

warning: mentions of PTSD, swearing

--

• you and your four year old daughter were coincidentally on a trip to visit family when the hex happened, your husband ralph couldn't get out of work but insisted you go without him

• after everything, ralph's mental state was so poor he had to quit his job, so instead of having a nanny, ralph becomes a stay at home dad while you work

• you were reasonably uncertain if ralph was mentally stable enough to take care of a child as well as himself but he insisted he's capable

• loves you and his daughter more than anything in the world

• calls her "bub, hon, sweetpea, babygirl, little gremlin, kiddo"

• is very protective of his family (especially after the hex)

• he buys everyone evil eye necklaces and makes you wear them to keep you safe

• doesn't sleep much anymore unless he's napping with his daughter

• it's quite literally the only time he gets any kind of peaceful sleep

• you had definitely spent an entire year trying to get her sleep on her own but that's out the window now and she'll only sleep in your bed

• on the occasions he does try to get a full night's rest, ralph still gets nightmares. but when he wakes up in a sweat, seeing "his girls" cuddled up with him calms him down, sometimes enough to where he can go back to sleep

• your daughter adores her dad's grown out curls, and often raves about how they look just like hers (compared to the cropped hair he had before) and mindlessly plays with his beard when they're sat on the couch watching TV

• does funny voices when he reads stories to her

• lives for hearing + making her laugh with corny jokes (btw she thinks he's the funniest person in the world)

• practices his one man show for her and the reason you know is because she'll try and recite certain plot points to you as if that's something that happened to her

• ralph forgets to eat but when he does, it's often just whatever your daughter doesn't finish of her food or he raids the fridge at 3 am

• generally his diet consists of celsius and half eaten dino nuggets

• sends her to preschool with totems he makes for show n' tell

• you got a call at work once because she did the black magic warding chants ralph taught her with an animal skull totem and it scared some kids and made them cry

• according to your daughter it was only "like 2 people" who cried and assured you that everything was fine b/c the rest of the class thought she was "the awesomest"

• you have to tell her to stop going around telling people her dad is an expert in "getting rid of witches" b/c they think she means "bitches"

• whenever you come home to seeing your daughter sat in ralph's lap at his computer, he tells you he's just working on his one man show but he's really on reddit and other forums teaching her how to protect herself from witches

• has learned well how to dress his daughter but b/c of his sketchy appearance sometimes ppl think she's been kidnapped, especially if she starts to throw a tantrum in public and you're not around

• cared very much for billy and tommy b/c they reminded him of his daughter

• there's been times where he's particularly struggling with his PTSD and accidentally scares her and it breaks his heart

• despite this, she'll come over and try to cheer him up with one of her stuffed animals and hug him or do one of the chants he taught her because that's what her idea of protection and safety is

-----------

ANGST DRABBLE

ralph sits with his head in his hands, distraught. he had another episode, this time in front of his young daughter. seeing the look of shock and fear on her face broke his heart.

those damn witches had hell to pay for what they've done.

"daddy?" he hears a small voice say. ralph's head shoots up. his daughter, holding her favorite teddy bear (which she renamed "papa bear" after noticing how closely his new look resembles the stuffed animal) walked up to him. her eyes are still a bit glossy, but she's smiling regardless.

"hey hon..." ralph speaks softly, reaching out to stroke her hair. "what have you got there?"

she puts the teddy into his arms, searching his face for a reaction.

"is.. this for me?"

she nods and ralph gasps holding it tight.

"oh wow, thank you babygirl- c'mere-"

he pulls her in for a deep embrace, kissing her head and whispering that he's sorry and that he loves her so much. a tear falls down his cheek as he holds her small body against his, hearing her say "i love you more, daddy!" in that sweet tone of hers.

it takes everything in his power not to completely break down.

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

FLUFF DRABBLE

after finishing dinner, you walk up the stairs, hearing the sound of chanting coming from the bedroom.

"close! remember kiddo you've got to do it twice for it to really work so let's go again- OUMMMM-"

"mommy!" at the sight of you, your daughter jumps off ralph's lap and throws her little arms around your legs.

"hi!" you respond enthusiastically, hugging her back. "just wanted to let you both know dinner was ready. what are you guys... up to?"

ralph avoids your eyes by pretending to look around the room. your daughter smiles up at you, bursting with excitement.

"daddy was teaching me-"

ralph interrupts. "dinner's ready? oh, you have perfect timing babe we're starving- uh kiddo? why don't you go wash your hands?"

"ooookayyyy!!" your daughter skips out of the room, curly ponytail swinging back and forth in time with her steps.

"again? ralph we talked about this-"

"i know, sorry..." he sighs. you notice his eyes linger on your chest.

"like what you see?" you tease, wiggling your eyebrows.

"no-! i mean- yes, of course but- you're not wearing the necklace..." he pouts.

you roll your eyes and reach into your shirt to pull the chain out.

"oh- my bad"

"yeah- now mr. bohnerrific69, could you please tell my husband that dinner's ready and he needs to actually eat tonight? because a whole pack of oreo's is not a sufficient meal."

"who told you i-?!"

ralph's gaze moves to your daughter, who's peeking past the door frame giggling.

"snitch!" ralph gasps dramatically and stands up from his desk, starting to playfully chase her down the hall. "thought you could rat me out huh? we had a deal!"

--

tags (ask to be added or removed anytime!): @fear-is-truth @juliamaximoff @jazz-berry @violetsghosts @quickreider @tiffysdeath @honeymoon8 @wcnderlnds @lacucarachapisser @xrag-dollx

[togrowoldinv]

To Show Thanks

Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Wanda does all of the cooking for Thanksgiving and you help her see just how thankful you are for her

Warnings: Smut! 18+ please! Kissing, bathtub sex (W receiving), soft sex

Note: The most wonderful time of year indeed. Enjoy the milf!

Wanda Maximoff Masterlist, Main Masterlist

The house smells of turkey and the holiday season as Wanda stands by the stove. She’s been cooking since the crack of dawn, but she wouldn’t have it any other way.

You’ve helped with a few things, but mostly it’s been Wanda who is putting in the work. The twins run around the house and play as they wait for the company to arrive.

“No! I’m running out of time!” Wanda’s voice breaks you from your thoughts.

“It’s only 5, baby. You still have about an hour until the guests arrive,” you say.

“That’s not long enough,” she says, a sigh falling from her perfect lips. They form into a pout as she observes the work she has ahead of her.

“Well, you could use your magic,” you say.

Wanda smiles but shakes her head.

“No magic today. Just me,” she says.

“You are magic no matter what, my love,” you tell her.

You stand up from your chair and hug Wanda from behind. She sinks into your touch. Dropping a kiss to her cheek, you make her feel relaxed even if for just a moment.

“Tell you what,” you begin. “I’ll get the rowdy boys to set the table and I’ll help you do anything you need. We can do this.”

“We can do this,” Wanda repeats though she’s not sure she believes it.

You kiss her cheek once more for good measure and then you go find the boys. They’re in their room playing Mario Kart.

“Hey guys,” you say. “How about we pause the game and go help Mom get ready for the guests?”

“Okay!” Billy answers easily. He’d do anything for his mom.

“Can we finish this level?” Tommy asks.

“Later, buddy,” you say.

“Okay,” he says, a slight sigh in his voice. He pouts like Wanda does.

“I have a super secret task for the two of you,” you tell them before you leave the bedroom.

“What is it?” Tommy asks.

“Today is Thanksgiving, which means that you tell people that you’re thankful for them. I got your mom a card and I was thinking you two could write a sweet note in it for her. What do you think?”

“Yes!” They both agree. Anything for Wanda.

You smile and lead them to the home office where they work on the card. You leave them to go back and help Wanda. Once they’re done, they come downstairs and set the table.

Wanda was right about timing being close, but you manage to have everything cooked and ready to serve at exactly 6 o’clock.

“We did it!” Wanda says excitedly.

“You did it, babe. All you,” you say.

Wanda smiles softly and places a soft kiss to your lips. The boys feign disgust. Soon, the doorbell rings.

She answers the door and lets guests inside one by one. Steve is first with Natasha, Maria, Tony, Sam, and Bucky not far behind. You remember meeting them all at the boys birthday party, but it’s so nice to see them again.

Everyone gathers around the table and begins to eat Wanda’s wonderful food.

“This is amazing, Wanda,” Steve compliments.

“Yeah, great job, Wanda. Reminds me of home,” Sam says.

Wanda smiles shyly and tries to share the credit.

“No, this is all her. I can cook, but not like this. She’s like professional level good,” you say. Everyone nods in agreement.

“So, how’s everything going?” Maria asks Wanda.

You know what she’s referring to. After Wanda and Vision split up, the woman has gone through a hard time with the divorce and now child custody hearings. You’ve been the bright spot in all of it.

“It’s good,” Wanda says. “I didn’t know going to court would be so expensive but it’s almost over.”

“I’d sue his ass for what he’s put you through,” Natasha jumps in. Maria nudges her shoulder but she only shrugs.

You shoot her a smile and she returns a smirk.

“How about we just talk about what we’re thankful for?” Steve, ever the peacemaker, tries to change the subject.

“Great idea,” you agree. “I’ll go first. I’m thankful for Wanda and her wonderful children and friends.”

Wanda smiles and kisses your cheek at your words. You hold her hand under the table. You’ve become her everything over these last few months.

Wanda speaks next. “I’m thankful for friends who have become family, for my precious babies, and for y/n who is truly my best friend.”

Everyone goes around and continues to share what they’re thankful for. Love and laughter fills the air as the hours pass by. After dessert and socializing, the guests go home.

Wanda is in the kitchen running a sink of dishes when you stop her.

“Come with me,” you say, pulling her softly.

“But the dishes, baby. They won’t do themselves,” she tries.

You keep walking and lead Wanda to the living room. The boys are there with Wanda’s card in hand.

“We got you this, Mommy,” Billy says, handing her the card.

“Oh, thank you, baby,” Wanda says. She sits between the two boys. She opens the card and tears fill her eyes.

“We all signed it to say we’re thankful for you,” Tommy explains.

“Wow,” Wanda says softly. “This is so sweet. I’m so thankful for you guys too.”

Wanda kisses them both on the forehead as they lean into her. She reaches out to you too and you join the snuggle pile.

“Can we finish our level before bedtime?” Tommy asks after a moment.

“Yeah go ahead boys. Mom and I will be up to tuck you in soon,” you tell them. They hug you both before running up the stairs.

Wanda tries to get up but you pull her gently back onto the couch. She lands on your lap and you grin at her.

“Thank you for the card,” Wanda says.

“That was from the boys,” you say.

“Mhm. I know you were the mastermind,” she says. “I should really clean up dinner.”

“Nope.”

“What do you mean nope?” Wanda asks.

“You, my dear, did all the cooking so I will do all of the cleaning,” you say. “I’ll pour you some wine and you just get to relax, okay?”

You don’t give her a chance to say no. Instead, you kiss her and get up to start cleaning. Wanda sits at the counter and watches you. After a bit, you tuck the boys into bed and finish up cleaning.

“How about a bath?” You ask Wanda, leaning over the counter in a way you know draws her eyes to your chest.

“Only if you’ll join me,” she replies, pressing a kiss to your lips.

“Yes please,” you say.

You go to the bathroom together and run the water. Wanda slips off her clothes first and slides into the warm water. You join her and settle in behind her.

She rests her head on your shoulder as you softly run your hands over her body.

“Thank you for today,” Wanda says.

“You did the hard part.”

“No, I mean- you didn’t have to clean up or give me a card or anything,” Wanda explains.

“Oh,” you say. “I just thought you’d like it.”

“I did. I loved it,” Wanda rushes to say. “It’s just- no one’s ever done that for me before. It’s new.”

“You deserve it, Wands. Everything doesn’t have to fall on you. And you deserve to hear how thankful we all are for you,” you say.

“Hmm,” Wanda hums. She turns her head to look into your eyes. “I really love you.”

“I really love you too, Wanda Maximoff.”

She leans up and kisses you. You deepen the kiss and let your hand slip between her legs. Wanda gasps at the feeling.

“Just relax, baby. I’ll take care of you,” you say.

She lets herself relax against you as you move your fingers through her folds. Wanda lets out the sweetest sounds with every stroke. You slip fully into her easily and make quick work of getting her to her high.

“That’s it, sweetheart. Let go,” you say softly as she comes against your fingers.

Wanda’s eyes remain closed in pleasure as you simply hold her against you. She stays there until the water gets too cold and you have to get out.

You get dressed in warm pajamas and snuggle into bed next to each other. Wanda clings to you.

“I’m so thankful for you,” Wanda says as her eyes droop closed from exhaustion and relaxation.

“I’m thankful for you too, Wanda. I always will be,” you tell her.

With one more shared kiss, you two fall into a deep slumber that lasts until morning.

Wanda has never been so happy and that’s all thanks to you.

[fandomnerd9602]

Golden?

Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Settling into marital bliss with Wanda was amazing. The firsts, the achievements and then of course came the boys.

Billy and Tommy were the apples of yours and Wanda’s eyes. They were loved equally. No jealousy between the twins.

At least at first. Then they started to develop their powers at age seven. Billy developed magical abilities on par with his mother. Tommy developed super speed, much like his late uncle. Wanda was ecstatic to be able to train one of her sons in all the way of sorcery and witchcraft.

This led to Wanda spending more time with Billy, helping her boy harness his powers. You of course were there to help supervise the lessons, just hoping that they didn’t blow up the house. But for Tommy, a deep pit was beginning to develop his heart. An aching at seeing how happy Wanda was with Billy.

It all came to a head the day when Billy mastered plasma bolts. Wanda was so happy, she wrapped the little wiccan in a hug, “that’s my boy!”

You looked over and saw Tommy’s eyes just fill with tears as he bolted from his spot on the porch, running into the house and up the stairs.

You quickly run up to your son’s room to find him crying on his bed. “Tommy?” You approach him, “buddy?”

“Is Billy the golden child?” He tries to ask thru his tears.

“N-no” you whisper as you wrap the young boy in a hug.

“Detka? What’s wrong?” Wanda’s psychic voice sounded in your skull.

“Your little speedster needs you” you think back to your wife. “He thinks you don’t love him as much as Billy”

“I’m on my way!” Wanda was up the stairs in a flash. She ran in and fell to her knees before Tommy’s bed.

“Oh my little podarok,” she whispers, gently stroking the little boy’s hair.

“I know,” he whispers back. “Billy’s so much cooler and neater than me and-“

“No my little podarok,” she rocks her boy back and forth. “You and Billy are amazing in so many different ways. I’m so sorry for ever making you feel less loved.”

You wrap Tommy in a hug too, “you are amazing. I can’t even keep up with you when you run.”

Tommy actually giggles. Billy walks in and hugs his brother too.

“Bro I love you.” Billy reassures his brother, “you’re like coolest, fastest out there!”

You and Wanda look to each other and share a little smile. Your family is a strong one. Sometimes each member just needs a little reassurance of how much you love them, you and Wanda are more than happy to reassure your kids and each other of that love.

[wandaslittlelove]

Destined - Part 0

Warnings: Cheating, mentions of death

The rain poured as I stared out the window. It had been almost two weeks since I had seen Wanda and about a month since my sister had sacrificed herself for a stone.

When I came back from the blip it felt like seconds had passed but really it had been five years. In those five years my sister was alone. Grieving my loss. Then when I came back and found out she was gone I was grieving hers. It seemed as if neither of us could ever get a happy ending. 

Being devastated by the loss my immediate thought was Wanda. Was she okay? Where is she? But I knew it all had to wait for after the battle against Thanos. I saw Wanda many times on the battlefield and tried to go to her but each time she would move away from me.

After the battle I sat in front of Tony Stark. The many who had been like another sibling to me for years. He was gone. I held Peter's crying figures in my arms that day as he cried for his mentor. Yet another family member had been taken from both of us.

Tony’s funeral is the last time I’ve seen Wanda. The last time I held her in my arms and the last time I was held in hers. I was told she stole Vision's body and had taken over a town called Westview to create her Perfect family. 

I was devastated at hearing this. First my sister dies, then Tony, and now Wanda has run off with the corpse of a man she had always reassured me she never liked. 

So I moved. I stayed in the compound as I couldn’t bring myself to leave. Natasha's room had become a safe haven along with the gray tabby.. A little gray tabby that enjoyed cuddles. Cinder was her name and she was the one thing that was currently keeping me grounded.

That was until Wanda came bursting through my front door with rain dripping down her body. A Pained expression on her face as she held her side. We both said nothing as I moved to quickly inspect her injury and when I saw it was just a couple of bruised ribs I let out a sigh of relief.

She was the one that talked first. She told me of Westview and how a woman named Agatha Harkness came for her magic and that's how she got the bruises. She told me of her boys, Tommy and Billy, and how they were the perfect kids. I listened silently as my ex Fiance told me all about the fantasy life she had created with a Robot. And I said nothing as she told me that she missed me. Nothing as she told me why she did it. And once again Nothing as she told me of the countless nights she spent with the man I had always been insecure about.

“So I just came to say that it would work out better if you stopped loving me. I’ve done so many things to hurt you. I cheated on you for two years. So please forget me.”

“So I'm not allowed to love you anymore?” I asked with my head turned away from wanda. Ever since Westview was created and she chose vision instead of me we had been arguing non stop.

“That's not what I'm saying!” I look at Wanda with a stone face not wanting to show her how much she's hurting me.

“Really? Because I believe the words ‘it would work out better if you stopped loving me’ mean that.” Wanda looks at me annoyed before she speaks

“I'm just saying it would be easier”

“For who? Me or you” the silence from wanda is all the information I need. With a scoff I pick up my bag before walking to the front door. 

“Knowing that you chose a robot over your fiance really says a lot about you Wanda. You created a whole life with someone you had claimed to barely know while I was grieving the death of my sister. And when it all came crashing down you run back to me. I don't want that. I don't want you. I stopped loving you as soon as you ran into his arms” as i exited the place that had once been my home the tears had finally started to fall. Although they weren't out of sadness.

I was free. Finally free…or that's what I thought 4 months ago. 

Until suddenly Wanda was trying to kill a child for her magic. Until Dr. Strange came to my door asking for help. And Until I found out our destinies would forever be linked.

Taglist: @alexawynters @username23345 @casquinhaa

[she1smyscar]

In the Comics, Agatha and Wanda trying so hard to get the Darkhold back after it was destroyed creates a Darkhold manifested into a little boy. Someone on TikTok uploaded screenshots from one of the comics and in it the Darkhold insists on calling Agatha "mummy" as in...his mother, and then proceeds to ask if that means Wanda is his "daddy." The person who posted the screenshots said "Agatha has 2 baby daddies."

( I love that her 2 baby daddies are women ��� )

Anyway picture this (I might make it into a fic), Wanda does not die from her fall in MoM, because the Darkhold little boy time travels back to that moment to save her (because he loves Chaos, he's the literal manifestation of chaos magic), and he (from the future) knows that her death would ultimately lead to him never being born/manifested. (Timelines are so confusing lol)

He goes back, saves Wanda right before she hits the ground, and then tells her they need to go team up with Agatha against the Avengers/Young Avengers cuz it'll be fun and chaotic for him and he loves that lol

So they spend a few days trying to find (Ghost) Agatha and Billy (Darkhold has kept the Billy part to himself for more chaos lol) and when they are searching, they create this bond where Darkhold is annoying Wanda like her emo son and he does call her "daddy" and she's like "Please stop. I already have my own children." And he just evilly chuckles to himself cuz he knows what's gonna happen when they meet up with Ghost Agatha and Billy soon.

THEN PICTURE THIS REUNION: The Darkhold child immediately makes Ghost Agatha a new body cuz he fucking can and there's drama about Billy and Tommy and Agatha being their new mom and then somehow it comes out that the Darkhold is technically Agatha's son with Wanda and Rio is there cuz she felt Agatha come back to life and she hears that Agatha had a son with Wanda and is trying to (not really) raise Billy

And Agatha's just there like : "Well, this is awkward."

Bonus: At some point she says something like, "What can I say? Mummy gets around" 🤣

[xmcu-fietro]

Agatha All Along episode 3 spoilers under the cut—I’m just having fun theorizing here, so don’t put too much weight into this since it’s very likely incorrect

I wonder if it’s not that Agatha traded her son for the Darkhold as rumored, but that she wanted a child and was (for one reason or another) unable to have one, and tried using the Darkhold to create him via magic (like how Wanda made Billy and Tommy). But that didn’t work, so instead of a baby she’s just stuck with the book as a bitter reminder of her failure, hence why it’s in the cradle instead of her potential son.

[21loveatfirstsight]

Death's Hand in Mine

Okay, first of all, to those badmouthed/blamed Lilia a few weeks ago, EAT YOUR HEART OUT YOU MTFK!!! BEST CHARACTER OF THIS SERIES HAND DOWN!!!!

She puts the sigil on Billy to buy him time, to help him not rush to things. She met him for a few minutes and (might) see his whole life and care about him. AND living that kind of life for more than 400 years, she turns out kind and selfless.

And, “Because all I saw was death”. Rio got a stalker!

Now let’s talk about Billy and Agatha in this episode.

Their talk while going to the next trial.

Agatha without her power can still tell Billy tries to read her mind, which indicates that his ability is not well-honed and easy to spot by witches (or magic users). *side note: “Where’s Rio?” Billy can read our mind too, lmao.

I saw people fussing about Billy saying Wanda is not his mom, I thought it was something serious and so ready to feel betrayed, but bruh, he just said it out of bitterness and retaliated toward Agatha (basically, chill your ass, let them build his character). After that, he asked if she was really dead, like a child.

Agatha said “Yes”, as her eyes studied Billy’s reaction (so evil). After that she switched back and said "No" as she sees him clearly upset but tries to stay strong. Because she wants to be honest with Billy (which later is revealed in the reading that she is). I think she might hate the fact that Billy is Wanda’s son, she still cares for a talented young witch nonetheless (she offered to answer his question).

I love mean bitter Billy, lmao. Agatha is clearly taken back, and probably misses Teen persona (cute).

Inside the trial.

I am now living for “bitter toward Agatha” Billy. The "prove it" is so evil and bitchy, because she can't lmao can we have some more pretty please! *side note: this emo witch reads tarot regularly.

Seven of Swords reading clearly pissed Agatha off. She shows kindness (in her own way) toward Billy time and time again but this bitch doesn’t know how to appreciate it, that’s why she grabs the decks, to at least teach Billy to control himself and doesn’t lash out his emotions.

When Lilia pushes him against the wall, there’s some new information about Billy: he might practice some low level magic, but he doesn’t know how to control his power. At least his domain ability (mind-reading) still works, and with how he reads Lilia, it shows he can’t stop “loud” thoughts from people (like when he first came home with the Kaplan).

"Lilia, are you the one who cast the sigil on me?" - Billy is reading her when Jen calming her down, aka he can read high level witches mind when they are not on guard.

“Am I William or am I Billy?” - That is indeed a very good question. And why do I have a feeling at the end of The Road, what Billy will get is the answer to this question, not Tommy.

Now, I never read or learn to read tarot, so I’m just gonna take the meaning at face’s value.

"You are the Magician" + "You have enormous potential and the ability to turn all of your goals into reality" - This clearly hints to his reality-wrapping power. Noting how the camera shows Agatha, she might suspect it to, given he's Wanda's son.

“Reunion” - Okay, he might not be getting Tommy, but this is a hint of someone else. Who? I really don’t know, it could be Wanda or Vision..

Agatha’s card - Three of Swords - As Lilia read, “Heartbreak, sorrow, grief”, it gives me the impression that Agatha is going through her buried trauma right now.

Billy’s card - Tower reversed - As Lilia read, “Disaster, destruction, sudden upheaval, but reversed, it means miraculous transformation”, this clearly hints about his future journey. And they can make it go both ways.

[to-be-a-dreamer]

A brain dump of thoughts after Agatha All Along ep 6:

Okay but like. The parallels between Agatha and Billy that we get to see now????

Both of their mothers chose to protect other people, complete strangers, over their own children??? Like. We know Wanda made the right choice, sacrificing her family for the greater good, but in her own twisted way did Evanora believe she was doing the same? Did she ever love her daughter? On some deep level, beneath the anger and hatred and warped sense of justice did it hurt her to try to kill her own child? She believed Agatha would bring countless death and destruction, that she was destined to be evil. As warped as her justifications were did she see it as a selfless sacrifice like Wanda's? Does that make it right? Does Billy have as much reason as Agatha to be angry with his mother for choosing to let him and his brother die? Do her truly selfless intentions matter to a child was just desperate to survive? Will he be able to forgive Wanda before that resentment is used against him? Is Agatha just trying to manipulate him by taunting him about Wanda or does she truly see a bit of herself in a child whose mother tried to kill him? (Edited)

Both of them were forced to do something horrible just to survive??? Agatha had to murder her own family. Billy had to steal the body of a boy who had just died. He had to pretend to be the child of these poor unsuspecting parents who just want their son back. Who have no idea their child is dead. The Kaplans will never get to bury William. He has to look them in the eye every single day knowing he's not really their son but what else was he supposed to do? He hates what he's doing to these people but what choice did he have? Could he even control it or did his soul instinctively seek out a new vessel to protect itself? Agatha was just a child who didn't want to die. Billy was just a child who didn't want to die. Were they selfish? Could they control it? Can we truly blame them if they could?

Both of them do terrible things when they feel backed into a corner or overwhelmed or emotional??? Things that they come to regret as soon as the emotions clear??? Billy looked horrified when he finally realized what he had done to Lilia and Jen but he's an intensely powerful and traumatized child who was overcome with grief and anger. Do we really think every single one of Agatha's kills was 100% self-defense? Do we really think she never killed someone in a fit of anger only to regret it after? And maybe Agatha has come to accept and embrace that now but she must have been like Billy when she was young. (Billy is literally the same age Agatha was when she killed her coven and was even younger when he took William's body) She must have been horrified at her power, at the things she did when she felt trapped. She must have bent over backward trying to defend herself and justify her own actions before realizing no one would believe she didn't want to do those things so she might as well embrace her power to its fullest potential ("I'm not that nice").

Both of them are walking the road for someone they lost??? I know Agatha says she's on the road for her power back but that's not how the road works, right? It doesn't give you what you want it gives you what you're missing. I think if Agatha was really able to get anything at all in the world, it wouldn't be her magic. Agatha is looking for Nicky. Billy is looking for Tommy. I don't know if either of them will really get that at the end but they are absolutely in this for the same reason.

I know there are mixed responses to this episode (at least when I first scrolled through the tag) but I for one really enjoyed it. I was really worried they were going to half-ass the explanation for why Billy was being Like This and fuck up one of the only queer Marvel Comics characters but comparing his actions to Agatha's and showing us this kid who is SO MUCH like how Agatha must have been when she was his age is so much fun actually. Like, it would have been really great but pacing-wise we probably couldn't have spent the necessary time going back into Agatha's past and diving deep into her progression from "scared child who does horrible things out of desperation for survival" to "cutthroat witch who is more than eager to hurt and betray others for her own personal gain". But we get to see it happen to Billy over the rest of the season and maybe even multiple MCU projects!!! Or maybe we'll get to see him make different choices. Maybe Agatha will be able to give him the chance no one gave her. Maybe history doesn't have to repeat itself. Maybe Billy's journey will give Agatha the chance to change her own story once and for all.

Idk this is really rambly and maybe my opinion will change as I think about it more but my first reactions are positive. Yeah on a meta level it sucks that the wlw couple is moving so slowly in their own show while the young, conventionally attractive mlm couple got to kiss within their first few minutes of screentime and they probably could have put in the effort to intentionally combat the miserable lesbians trope. But on a story level, I'm personally glad they're not rushing Agatha and Rio's arc. They're definitely going to get their moment but the reason they're so compelling is because of their history and the tragedy between them. We don't have all the details of what really happened between them yet but I don't think it's something you can just kiss and make up about. Billy and Eddie are teenagers with no real baggage between them. Agatha and Rio have possibly centuries of hurt and anger and betrayal to work through Let Them Cook! It'll be that much sweeter and their relationship is one of the CORE overarching plots of the show you don't want them to rush it. (Also I personally am too ace for the "we're gonna make up by having hot sex about it" type of conflict resolution and would have hated if Agatha and Rio were intimate before sorting at least some of their shit out but that's just me ik a lot of people would have enjoyed it and I'm sure it could have been really compelling but I actually cannot stand those kinds of plots most of the time.)

Also just keep in mind that the only other named queer characters we've had in the MCU literally ever are Phastos and Ben in the Eternals and like. Yeah it shouldn't have taken this long for a queer lead but the massive jump??? We went from one character (out of like ten mains) whose partner has minimal personality traits and like five minutes of screen time to a show with two main character on-screen queer romances!!!! In the Marvel Cinematic Universe??? And one of them is a season-long complex and interesting story that is a central plot of the series and not just half-baked fanservice!!! And one is just sweet innocent love between kids who care about each other!!! I do wish wlw stories didn't always have to come with attractive cis gay men but do y'all understand how huge this is for the MCU????? It shouldn't have taken this long and we can definitely criticize the negative tropes the show falls victim to but net positive progress is always something to be happy about. If you're not familiar with the greater MCU and the history of Marvel in general just understand that this is actually insane for them and I'm so excited for the doors that just opened for future queer storylines, but that can only happen if we show Marvel that, yes we do want queer characters being openly intimate on screen. Be happy for Billy, keep being happy for Agatha and Rio during all stages of their story and maybe we'll get to see more of this!!!

[wmarximoff]

𝐝é𝐣à 𝐯𝐮 | 𝐰. 𝐦𝐚𝐱𝐢𝐦𝐨𝐟𝐟

summary: as you slowly reconnect with Wanda, you feel a familiar feeling of déjà vu.

warnings: making out, smut, strap-on sex (Wanda receiving) mentions of smoking, mentions of drinking, canon typical violence, angst.

pairing: Wanda x fem!reader

word count: 10k

main masterlist| series masterlist|

༺ᱬ༻

A carton of almond milk, a jar of peanut butter, a dozen eggs, a stick of butter, a can of peas, a bag of soft multigrain bread and a sizable bottle of wine are the components of the plastic basket that Wanda carries slung over her right arm. She doesn't know that she forgot to get a can of corn too. But the basket is kind of weighty and she might as well use her magic to levitate the items around her own silhouette, but she prefers that way, holding them down herself with her own arm strength.

Sometimes it's good to keep the sense of normality active. Even if normality just means carrying a basket full of groceries around the supermarket. She then looks at the face of the brown watch buttoned at the base of her left wrist and checks the time, blinking her greenish eyes after squeezing a long, full yawn in the back of her throat.

A gray-haired old lady (Mrs. Sharon Davis, an elderly widow, all wrapped in her pale blue cardigan) in front of her appears to be in a conflict with herself to find some of the change interred in the lowest of her silver wallet. And Wanda scrutinizes the establishment around herself, between the shelves stocked with groceries and the glossy linoleum floor; the weary gaze wavering absorbedly over her own white-fabric sneakers and contingently fixing on a dark, even smear on the floor between them.

 Old Mrs. Davis still hasn't spotted her desired coins, and she's been digging into her wallet for the silver pennies for a good few minutes now. Wanda listens over her shoulder as someone pulls into a shopping cart right behind herself and lets out an audible groan, evidentially annoyed at the delay of the old lady with her change, but Wanda doesn't see the point in bothering to torment herself.

It's not yet six o'clock and she'll be peaceably walking home, for Westview is a small, undisturbed, reticent suburban town where everything is so close and easy to find. And she knows that, with her house being just a few blocks away from the locality of the modest market, she won't be long in coming to prepare dinner for her and her boys (whom she has left securely at the house, both doing their math homework). She smiles tenderly to herself when she thinks about Billy and Tommy.

After all, she knows she's never loved anyone as passionately as she loves those two little boys (the grace of her life, the reason for her morning smile and for the blaze of keenness pulsing within the fond fortifications of her warmish heart). For her they are everything, and that is why she would do anything for them – they are the epithet of the purest form of love that Y/N had ever gifted her with; the culmination of their love converted into two vulnerable little creatures that are made up of the best of the two of them.

She just knows, like a good mother who understands both her children so well, that at that moment, the twin boys are probably watching some silly cartoon on the television set beside the broad fireplace found in the corner of the commodious living room. And she is placid in a supermarket line, getting a whiff of the eccentric consequence of the odd combination of the full-bodied aromas of cleaning product and some sturdy feminine perfume – an even slightly nauseating aroma, kind of overpowering and suffocating. In some aisle away from her, a child is heatedly asking his mother to buy him some treats.

Wanda then ponders about making something a little special for dinner, and recalls about the delicious kugel recipethat her mother used to prepare in the length of her childhood days, back in devastated Sokovia, so many years in the remote past that encompasses the beginning of the disasters that marked her life.

The memory that gushes over her is sentimental and bittersweetly recurring to her core; she deliberates about the sporadic months of starveling and a small humble family of four, when her father was lucky with his sales and there was a sufficient amount of money left to buy the soldiers' leftover ingredients.

But then, she retrieves back to the years of her late youth, all lived in the restful caresses of the compound in upper Manhattan. She was still understanding about how to breathe without having Pietro to hold her hand. She was learning to live on her own. She was coming to terms with the truth that living didn't inevitably have to be a bad experience at all; not when Y/n showed her that there could still be delight in the little things in life.

And it was Y/n who used to marvelously praise the dish when Wanda found comfort in the act of cooking, and she always repeat a few slices every time Wanda cooked it so long ago, when they were just two teenage lovers (and eventually also young wives, both living in a small bubble of love and companionship on the edge of a comfortable wooden cottage surrounded by dozen of yards of apple orchards).

There was the sweet virtuousness of the warmth of two young girls' lives at that time. It was the first time that Wanda was really fond of being young (of breathing and having a beating heart, of having a life to live valuing every little detail of it).

She memorizes the exultant smile of her ex-wife, looking so light and beautiful even while talking with her mouth full (a half-crocken smirk drawn to her left-side, like the smirk also articulated in the innocuous characteristics of her little Tommy after he was born, which reminds her so much of the radiance that used to gleam in the sweet features of her former companion). Her ex-wife wasn't always a lonesome and distant creature creeping in the corners of her mind, and it genuinely aches inside her chest to remember that.

Y/n always devoured lavishly every traditional Sokovian dish she has ever prepared and promptly asked for more – and then thanked her with a chaste kiss placed on the pulp of her lips, which promptly evolved into the building of an intimate, sweaty moment with two bodies rubbing greedily against each other. But she soon lets out a crestfallen, rather disillusioned sigh, repressing herself for having gone back to those secluded memories amorously stored in the edge of her brain in the first place (of the concept of two adolescent girlfriends absorbed in love in the purest sense of the word, emulating the seriousness of a relationship with adult bearing, but never losing, at its core, the youthful sweetness worthy of teenage lovers). Two girls playing love in a world that was a little too hard on them.

She glares ruefully at the bulbous base of the red wine bottle and then lets out a sorrowful exhalation. Her relationship with Y/n felt like it was straight out of the old sitcoms that she always appreciated so much, where no problem was a genuine obstacle and that, by the end of the day, the two lovers would be in each other's affectionately secure arms again (and that perhaps she let have an effect on her a little too much, when dealing about decisions made early on in her adult life).

But then she reminisces that she was merely turning eighteen years old when she became a wanted on an international scale, and that, prior to that, she had also grown up in a war-torn country. She never knew how to behave like a normal person per se – whether that was before or after she became able to expel bolts of magical energy from her fingertips. She never quite knew how to fit into the role of a child or a young adult in the first place. Not by herself.

There was no time in Wanda’s life to understand precisely how to fit these labels (she was protesting with so much loathe constricted within her heart, volunteering to save her homeland, being made of little more than a lab rat by the clutches of a bunch of mad men, being used by the being that promised her greatness, but only ended up costing her the life of her darling brother).

In the cramped confines of a bleak, sullied cell, with only a modest television in the corner to entertain her mind away from the needles and the brutality, there were not many allusions of love and passions that elapsed through her life outside a square screen.

Wanda was aware that she just mimicked other people's movements and transcribed them into her own actions, as if it was all just a show and she was its young star, trying to intomb in her core the path of catastrophe and violence that had always shadowed her closely; it was only the years of strict therapy, self-knowledge and self-care, right after being blipped and coming back, that edified her to be her own person in a truly healthy way. There would be no more extremes in her life.

Her cohabitation with Y/n at the time facilitated, of course – even though her wife had changed a lot in the time that followed since the blip, at first, things had worked out well between them. Or as well as possible under the anomalous circumstances. The two of them took care of the (still) newborn twins and of each other, always with great tenderness and affection while they did it. At least that's how it worked for the first year after their reunion – until Y/N got into alcohol's graces for good, that is.

Their relationship had always felt rather light and jovial before Thanos snapped his fingers. And after that she might even have come back, but it was indeed her marriage that had turned to dust in that remote dreary day in Wakanda. In all honestly, she's not quite sure what's changed in that meantime that she's been away (dead, she was dead). And it's uneasy to ponder about it, but sometimes she does – she can’t help it.

Her corporeal existence had disintegrated into a sift of life, crumbling into her own ashes. There was color, and then the dreadfully wide expanse of emptiness (death); she, as a self-aware being, ceased to exist with just a thought and a snap of two fingers.

Her consciousness faded before she could even realize she was doing it – the palms of both her hands constrained firmly against the wound in YN's stomach that was leaking bundles of fresh blood. And Wanda never relatively questioned her existence before that (she only questioned why she ceased to exist in the first place). Returning to dust, as people of faith would say. Five long years that slipped through her fingers and dripped onto the floor in the form of a veil of dust.

It still feels odd in her guts, even ten years later, to remember that there's a void somewhere in her life that would be filled with the time that was thieved from her by the Infinity Gauntlet. A void that had once been filled by the subtle presence of Y/n's love.

Once, when the twins were about a year old after the blip, Y/N drunkenly knelt down with her face defectively reclining on Wanda’s thighs and questioned her as to why Wanda and the babies where the ones erased from existence while she stayed behind, abandoned like an old piece of furniture that no one wants to use anymore. Wanda never knew how to answer it, but they got divorced about a month later or so.

But she imagines that it, the crumbliness of their relationship, has something to do with the fact that they were both a little precocious in getting married before their twenties properly speaking; maybe if they were older and more experienced before doing it, she thinks, standing in line at the supermarket, maybe then they wouldn't have had the sorrowful culmination that they did (the crying faces and the broken hearts).

Maybe they could have risen together, and not just drifted further and further away as the days passed. Maybe Y/n didn't feel guilt-ridden every time the twins cried in need to be held or fed. Maybe Wanda wouldn't have queried her for the love she no longer knew how to give – she is fully aware of the fact that she has always had a somewhat pushy nature, after all. Maybe this, maybe that.

She doesn't know why she's been thinking about maybe so much these past few days. But it's not her fault that her ex-wife happens to be so pleasing to the eye. The person behind her in line grumbles again, and there is a mischievous chuckle that reaches her ears with airs of grace. Wanda is sincerely considering summoning some coins with her magic for Mrs. Davis.

“Oh my God, this wine is divine!”

It is Sarah Proctor who addresses Wanda, the key to undeniably everything in this town. Wanda knows it's the other woman because a sudden pulsing urge to fade away takes over her nervous system as soon as the voice echoes behind herself.

She is the high-nose blonde woman who lives up the street, is a devoted member of the Westview Elementary School parent-teacher association (in the year before Wanda had witnessed her make a young teacher leave the room in tears after a meeting), proudly cultivates the most exquisite yellow roses in the neighborhood and wears a pair of classy yoga pants that would fit a young teenager with half of her age. A self-proclaimed wine mom.

Her daughter is a classmate of Billy and Tommy, and the children often attend both the Proctor and Maximoff residences – which occasioned in Sarah a vague idea of intimacy that only endures in the head of the blonde woman with bobbed hair.

She has already invited Wanda several times to Westview Pool Club girls' gatherings, but Wanda politely declined with an odd smile and a trivial wave of her hand, because she's never been the socially outgoing kind of type—and she's always been under the impression that every attempt Sarah made from approaching her were due to the fact that the other woman knew of her past as an Avenger (as did most of the small-town citizens), and so was trying to turn her into a kind of living-tourist-spot for the eyes of the rest of the world to witness.

Rumors had it that Sarah would run for mayor in the upcoming election, and having a former Avenger as the face of her campaign certainly sells well with the predilections of the American public. Little does she know that Wanda won't vote for her.

“Oh yes, it's one of my favorites,” Wanda retorts, talking about the dark tall bottle of red wine prudently deposited inside her plastic basket, “It's been a while since I've had a drink, so I decided to buy a bottle to open this weekend.”

“Some special occasion, I suppose?” Sarah articulates a suggestive grin, but Wanda just frowns uncertainly, half squinting at her neighbor, “Maybe some... special visitor? I always knew you had it in you, Wanda. You know what they say about the quiet ones...”

“What– no, no. No,” she flashes a half embarrassed, half awkward smile, chuckling nervously while doing so, “Y/n is staying with the boys for the weekend, so it's just a special little thing for me. All by myself. A quarantine-style staycation. A whole weekend... just to myself.”

“Y/n, huh?” Sarah raises a well-crafted eyebrow in a pique of curiosity, “Your ex-wife, right? I remember seeing her at the twins' birthday party. I mean, she's pretty, yes, but she's quite the quiet type, huh... just minding her own business with a cup of soda.”

“Yeah, she was never one to talk much in public, even when we were with our teammates… but neither am I, honestly.”

“A pair made in heaven, indeed,” Sarah then flashes a smile, but the taste that slides across Wanda's tongue is bitter and kind of hard to swallow. Wanda shifts her body weight uncomfortably from one leg to the other.

“But wait, she's also an Avenger, isn’t she? Yeah, she's the one in the black and white outfit! Oh my God! Who wore a jacket over it and had that kinda mean attitude, all punk rock and stuff?”

“Herself,” Wanda agrees, pressing her lips together in a long, clumsy line. She just wants to go home and cook her damn kugel.

“My my, how did I not notice this before? I remember seeing her in the news once, when I was in college. I also had quite a taste for delinquents back then, if you know what I mean. And, well... I explored a lot in college.”

Wanda feels a hot twinge high in her face and she bites the inside of her cheek in a rather timid act (but there's no denying that Y/n's somewhat rebellious attitude has always had a lewd effect on her legs as a young teenager with a schoolgirl’s heart).

“She and Black Widow, I think, saved the life of the mayor in that bombing on the Fourth of July in... ‘15, ‘16, maybe? Yeah, I remember that! She's the one who's super strong, isn't she? Who held up a scaffold once and saved those kids!”

“That's her, yes.”

The brunette muss in a limp voice, which seems to draw a slightly indecent laugh from the blonde woman with her shopping cart full of knick-knacks and silver hoops clicking in her earlobes. It is from her that the aroma of sturdy perfume comes.

“Well, I imagine that super strength of hers comes in handy in some… situations.”

“Situ–” but then she blinks just one time, “Oh,” Mmrtification hangs over Wanda like a bucket of paint spilled over her dark-haired head.

She opens and closes her mouth like a golden fish, frowning, and her cheeks don't take long to reach strong shades of scarlet, glowing red like one of the tomatoes inside Sarah's cart.

It's inappropriate, and she knows it, but she can't help but feel a certain tingle in her breasts as lapses of memory enlighten her thoughts with the ghost of touches coursing along her body. Then she thinks of Y/N's warm, measured breath against her earlobe (of strong hands pinning her wrists above her head, of a tense, impassive hip against her own hip, of the cracked headboard and the broken bedframe). A movement and a moan. An electrical discharge in her bowels. And then, fuck... just Y/n tearing her insides apart.

The other woman smiles viciously, and Wanda suddenly wishes she hadn't put on a sweater before leaving the house, because she can actually feel herself starting to perspire at the expectant look her neighbor bestows on her.

She's never been one to deal with such intimacies with anyone other than her ex-wife (merely some casual, unsuccessful and sporadic blind dates that's never been more than a few kisses and a few touches here and there, by no means ending up in her or anyone else's bed). But she permits herself only to flash a wan grin towards the other woman when she realizes that, in front of her, the old lady has lastly found her damn change. Fucking finally.

And then, with the memory still boiling hungrily in her innards, like a hungry beast devouring her from the inside out, she takes a large step in the other direction, trying to walk away from Sarah as humanly possible, as if the other woman carries with her a toxic cloud that sickens everything that comes in contact with her. If Wanda couldn't probably get a nice lawsuit for that (or worst), she'd turn Sarah into a disgusting slimy frog.

“Well, I, I, I need to go, Sarah, but it was really nice meeting you around here. Bye,” the enchantress raises her wrist, bidding the blonde woman goodbye with a wave of her hand and a small, introverted (half-awkward) grin.

There is barely time for an answer to be formulated on the part of the housewife. Wanda's cheeks are still red hot as she (virtually) dashes through the small supermarket's automatic double doors like a fugitive on the run. Mrs. Davis drops a coin on the floor on her way out.

ᗢ

You don't know exactly how long you've been raising and lowering the joint of your bent elbow above your head. It doesn't feel right to do it, just as it doesn't do it if it feels wrong. It's just necessary – it’s like cracking some eggs if you're in the mood for an omelet for breakfast. You just have the fullest conception that a few good minutes have passed since the beginning of all the activity, and as in the rehearsal of a play, you are repeating the gestures until you overcome them with great proficiency and your culmination comes out perfect, from your liking.

And you don't bother to intend to stop doing it anytime soon – such a guttural, animalistic and barbaric action. At this point, the movement is already instinctive after being recorded in at the core of your memory, an automatic message engraved between the ligaments of your neurons. You've done it innumerable times before, and you know you'll do it a few more times after this one.

You lift your right arm, lowers your implacable fist constricted like a steel ball, the resonance of smashed cartilage and wrecked bones echoing in your eardrums, all instructed by the figure of a bloodthirsty invisible conductor within the ramparts of your own cranium. The face of the bewildered guy lying beneath you looks like a loaf of raw, misshapen meat as you repeat a cadence of sequentially delivered punches against his facial bones. And he, who is at least twice as big as you, lets out a piercing howl of pain from the cavernous depths of his throat, as even a wild bear would do if attacked deep in a forest.

But in that alley on Long Island there is not a soul available to help him to get rid of your uncomplacent fists – not at the end of a passage that is unpopulated, far from prying eyes that could creep in your direction during the action which takes place there, a beacon of environment squeezed between two amorphous walls of scorched bricks, which gives the illusion of a single long, damp, narrow street. 

A sphere of blood is clotted on your face, like an eccentric gemstone, a dark red pearl splattered under the arch of your left eyebrow. And you pant heavily, your veins stiffening.

You've never been one to refuse punching a motherfucker in the face – your forte has always been pounding up things, whether on the countless missions conveyed alongside your teammates or at work during your teenage years, taking advantage of your inhuman gifts to have something to eat at the end of the week.

You've never had a dilemma in whacking someone’s ass. Even more so when that said someone had committed a hate crime against a racial minority and got away with the trial, because that's the way it is in New York City. The recurring metallic scent of fresh blood squirts in a jet of reddish color, thick and gleaming across your rigid, compact knuckles. The gruesome fragrance is no stranger to your sense of smell, and you're not quite sure whether you want it to be or not.

But it is what you are; as an inherent component of your biological chemistry (like the serum gushing through Steve's veins, altering him from inside out, or the magic pulsing within Wanda's core, changing the structure of her brainwaves), you know that hostility is a primeval part of your nature longer than the placid ends of an ordinary, quiet life.

The peaceable domestic life lived alongside Wanda is long gone, and desolation and wrath are your only roommates within the walls of your morbidly valueless apartment. You've been living like a cornered animal for fifteen years in programmed mode, always exposing your fangs and your claws at any sign of danger, just self-destructing, dying little by little, not craving to exist for one more day after laying your head on the blandishments of your pillow and staring blankly at the ceiling, whirling through your usual drunken state. Just desiring to somehow wreck your imperishable body that can't be cut or torn by human hands or tools.

People much well-intentioned than you are long gone, and you, by some implausible probabilities, were (cursed) fortunate to have endured thorough all the catastrophes that life directed at you. The car accident as a child. The blip as a mother and as a wife, as a friend.

The damn journey by the mountain of Vormir, in which three of you went in the grip of that appallingly isolated planet, and only two came back with a chest full of oxygen and life pumping through your nervures. The avid combat for proprietorship of all the six Infinity Stones, and the provenance of the final snap that brought back peace to the equilibrium of the universe by eliminating the existence of its greatest known threat at the time.

You just seem to live confined in this unbearable cycle of misfortune, and it's not fair to others that you are the person left to tell the story of those who are gone. If only you could, you would swap places with the true heroes who gave their lives for the greater good. You would even be honored to do so yourself.

Your chest heaves and deflates severely within the molds of your leather jacket fitted around your shoulders over a short-sleeved plain shirt, your veins bulging with rushing blood, and you rise to your feet, setting up your knees, and step back to inspect the big man who lies defeated to the floor of the alley, amidst a pool of his own blood and filth typical of places like this — your jacket sleeve shimmering with bundles of fresh blood, a coat of gleaming sweat limping glistening on the beam of skin on your forehead, near your hairline.

He is still alive, groaning in a vital position, and is severely battered. And it was never your intention to kill anyone. He probably learned his lesson. Maybe you should break his legs, just in case. A tremor rolls under your black sneaker feet as a loud motorcycle passes by in the distance. Sirens also pass presently afterwards, coming and going with their blue and red outcome.

But there, squeezed inside the claustrophobic walls of the dim alley, you are far from any possible intervention. You then register a single shake that travels along the outline of your left leg as your cellphone pulses inside the back pocket of your old jeans, shivering against your hip bone.

 You take an elongated gulp of air before diving into your flickering pocket and hooking the device through your fuming, blooded finger length. You know your pupils are dilated and dark. Your gaze is empty and brittle as you scrutinize between the digitally formed words before your motionless eyes. Frequent bursts of oxygen are a method of neutralizing the pulses of adrenaline throbbing in the artery inside your neck. But the taste that slips between your teeth is acid and sour, and you lock your jawbone at the information that is cognitive to you.

Hey, Y/n. Are you really going to come get the boys tonight? I saw somewhere that it will rain later, so I wanted to check with you just to make sure.

(seen)

It’s Wanda.

(seen)

By the way.

(seen)

Yes, you know it's Wanda (your sweet Wanda, the trace of humanity lingering inside your icy chest), that she texted you. And it doesn't astonish you at all (not anymore), because not many people contact you lately during the sunny period of the day. You two have been keeping in touch the last few days, after all, you told her that you wanted to be more present in the twins' lives. And it's not an untruth at all, but your sly creaking anxiety makes you feel like it's a kind of uncertainty inside your throbbing stomach walls.

Maybe it's not the right decision, the voice inside your head spoke. Maybe at this point in life they don't need you anymore. Maybe this is a breakthrough, or even the commencement of a calamity worthy of a Greek novel, you're not quite sure yet. You turn on your heels and spin your back on the battered man, so you can send your reply to your ex-wife's number without looking at the ferocious outcome of your latent tantrum.

yup, your avid thumbs type along the digital keyboard provided on the screen of the small electronic device, i’ll be there in 1 hour or so. hope they like cheeseburgers.

And then you slide your upper teeth along the flesh of your lower lip, somewhat unsure of how to proceed.

try to enjoy your staycation btw. you deserve it

(seen)

:)

(seen)

You don't know why you sent her that stupid emoji. It's not like you're a teenager reproducing a failed flirtation attempt with the girl you have a crush on anymore.

But a lapse of realism is present as your vision aims on the blood folds on your stinging fingers folded around the cellphone, and you feel a heavy ball of constricted lamentation taking shape in the back of your throat when your sorrowful eyes scrutinize thorough the lines of your hands and find there only odious signs of a cavernous viciousness (a raw, physical cruelty also reflected within the mirror of your shattered soul).

In the background, the man is still groaning in pain. And you're not sorry you broke him in a beating. No, no. You're just sorry for yourself, because you didn't bat an eye when you did it. Vaguely the memory of Wanda placing chaste kisses along your hands invades you, and you realize you wouldn't want her to kiss your unseemly fingers right now (because you find her too pure to dwell on the filthiness of your touch).

The skin on your hands abruptly itches and feels dull, and you don't feel like having those plagued fingers around your children’s immaculate faces anymore.

ᗢ

The twilight of dusk breaks with the trepidation of an ingrained thunder, which rumbles all in a glow of white light that splits along the longitudinal path that comprised the pleasant suburb that is Westview. So, this is an opaque afternoon resulting from the middle of the rainy day, gray and hazy in its chilly essence, with tenuous threads of a torrential drizzle protecting the foundations of the two-story house on the slopes of the street, making the dewy ivy rustle on its ground, dripping slowly from the eaves of the ceramic tiles.

Standing on the porch of Wanda's house, you ponder that you should have listened to the weather forecast when it was said that during the afternoon there would be a period of rain. Your dark hoodie is really soaked through and your hair, pulled back in a high half ponytail, is damp against the skin of your own forehead. You feel kind of stupid.

Compact, opulent, slate-colored clouds were uneven against the emerald green of the panorama of howling houses, hills and trees, like the leaning of thick smoke from a desolate fire. A fierce storm, nevertheless, is not anomalous in the face of the oscillating spring climate of the state of New Jersey, which is not a real stranger to the rainy weather of the season. Thus, the nonstop drizzle is not the atypical episode of the day altogether.

The conquering event of such a rank happens when Wanda opens the door and finds you there, standing with your elbows dripping cold droplets water in the light wood entrance, and then pulls you into the cozy embrace of the pleasant climate established within that domestic environment of her own home.

“For God’s sake, Y/n, you're soaking wet!”

She reiterates, surveying you with an apprehensive gaze that runs the length of your head to toe, her slender ringless fingers still pressed worriedly around the outline of your right forearm tucked beneath the humid fabric of your damp blouse – but Wanda doesn't seem to realize as she's still carries with the action, and you kind of don't want her to let go of you anytime soon, so you say nothing about the warm touch tingling on your cold skin.

“Yeah, the rain started when I was halfway there and there was no way for me to avoid it, so I just went with it,” you mutter, with a certain lack of interest smoldering in your quiet voice “Sometimes I wish I still had a car...”

“But you didn't bring an umbrella?” Her gaze is accusatory in your direction, the tone of voice sounding dangerously concerned inside your ears, “Wait, you walk all the way over here?! I could have gone to get you!”

“Well,” you kind of sigh, shrugging your shoulders within your hoodie, without looking her straight in the eye “You see, I, hah… I didn’t think it was actually going to… you know… to rain. And technically I have some level of super speed in me, so...”

And then you look at her, and the exact facial expression you'd expect to find there makes its way until it slides all over her face. She’s pissed off.

“But I told you it was going to rain!” she then frowns at you, looking a little exasperated while doing it, her beautiful features drenched in an irritated tone of incredulity, “Seriously Y/n, you need to listen to what I say more! What if you get sick?”

You flick an eyelid at the grumpy figure of a very upset Wanda standing right in front of you, exhaling aromas of tea and crimson color. It's funny how the pique of nostalgia slips through your bones – there is an air of familiarity when a subtle sense of déjà vu settles into your cognitive system, like the feeling of coming home after a long trip. You feel at home. You feel belonging.

This image is very cherished to your spirit, and you can't help but to articulate a small grin that feels light in your heart in front of your ex-wife, who then aims towards your gaze with a gleam that is an assortment of misunderstanding and irritability flickering in the greenish irises, the color that look like two emerald stones embedded within her eyeballs, curving a single one of her sharp dark eyebrows in an high arching cut.

You feel married to her again for half a fraction of a second – it's like your remote newlywed routine all over again. And the feeling is actually good. She looks so pretty. It's like you could kiss her lips right there.

“What? What's so funny?”

Wanda questions you in an almost petulant way, and you let out a pleasant chuckle as she tilts her head slightly to the side of her right elbow, her chin pointing toward the tip of your nose – her typical irritating movement as the harbinger of an angry reaction to anything that troubles her spirit.

“You know I'm physically incapable of getting sick, don't you?” you declare, still with a smile carved along the outline of your own lips, and Wanda crosses her forearms close to her chest in an even vaguely embarrassed way in front of you. She was always a stubborn type anyways.

“It's that super durability mutant thing or some shit like that. At least that's what Banner told me once, and he's a smart guy y’know, so I believe him,” you casually shrug, “I haven't had a cold since I was, like, thirteen. Shit, I don't even know if I remember what it's like anymore. You don't have to worry about me, Wanda.”

“W-well,” she exasperated in a timidly cute way, even a little childish in essence, pressing her open palms against the sides of her hips well-guarded by a pair of pale mom jeans – the attire so far from the miniskirts and chains and torn clothes she used to wear when she was younger, at the apex of her mean girl phase.

Today isn't the first time you've noticed that her waist got wider as a result of the prudent ripening endowments of late adulthood blossoming into her beautiful body-type. It suits her well. You want to touch her skin through the fabric of those flimsy jeans and the thin white cotton blouse; your fingers itch to do it.

“Just because you don't get sick like other people it doesn’t mean you can walk around in the rain whenever you feel like it. You look like a wet dog right now, you know.”

“Alright, alright, I get it,” you raise both your hands to shoulder height in a placid gesture of surrender, “No more walks in the rain, I promise you.”

“You're impossible, Y/n,” she then rolls her green eyes into their sockets, but you just smirk jokily at her reaction.

It only takes a nonchalant magical flutter of Wanda's wrist, with her right five fingers all enveloped in a fading mist of crimson steam, for the well-versed witch to make your garments still swell on your body, expelling from the bristles of fabric, as even in a chemical separation reaction, the water molecules that soaked them in the first place.

It's like a huge hair dryer blowing hot air the entire length of your body and then unexpectedly stopping as if pulled from the socket, making your skin temperature pleasant again like a sunny embrace all around your body. You find yourself dry in a matter of seconds, from your socks to your underwear, thanks to her remarkable magical gifts.

The tingles consequential from the scarlet mist touching your skin still slither down the length of your body. It is familiar and eccentrically comforting – it's like eating again a candy that you used to eat during the preludes of your childhood; tastes like home and happiness.

“You know what, your powers come in handy sometimes, I’ll give you that,” you say in a mocking tone of voice, and she raises a single eyebrow in response.

“You’re annoying. I'm still considering throwing you out back in the rain for dripping water all over my carpet, just so you know.”

“All right, mom, relax. I won’t do it again, girl scout word.”

“You were never a girl scout, Y/n.”

Wanda just casts a weary glance in your direction, but there's a slight lighthearted tone that resides in the green outline of her graceful irises, as if an inside joke has taken hold between you two. She smiles, and so do you, because you feel comfortable while doing it – a pair of complicit grins from someone whose chest is filled of joy and fullness. The atmosphere that sets in is comfortable, and you feel more relaxed being close to her.

You don't really do it, but it feels like your fingers are entwined with the fingers of her own hand – the specter of touch is written between the two of you, and it's as if your soul can really feel hers at its core, like two magnets that can't stop attracting each other instantaneously. You've always gravitated towards Wanda's overwhelming presence, and things won't be any different now.

“Come on, the boys are watching cartoons in the living room,” Wanda says, then turning her back on you so that you follow her lead to the intimates of the house, “You can stay until the rain stops.”

You follow after your ex-wife without further circumlocution, the two of you passing through the small and comfy entrance hall as you go after Wanda into the large rectangular living room, your hands always tucked inside the single pocket of your hoodie as you accompany her with phlegmatic steps in your essence. Your shoulders feel even lighter as she turns to you and casually offers you the sweetest smile you've ever seen in your life.

Torrential rain is still pouring down from the sky outside the house, and the boys Billy and Tommy can be seen wearing warm, comfortable clothes, both the twins snuggled up against the back of the gray linen sofa, their little smart eyes looking smilingly at each other’s faces and not towards the television screen, where some cartoon that seems unfamiliar to you is shown.

They seem to share some secret that only two people with some primal connection as to what unites them would be able to do it, but the sounds of banter irrigated in the air of childish shenanigans reveals the mockery between their giggles.

They are brothers and they are twins, yes, two parts of a whole, born of the same womb that they shared from the beginning of their existence as two living beings, but you were always a little happier to realize the closeness established in the friendship between your children. Billy and Tommy are each other's best friends.

The pair then seem to make themselves aware of the presence of their two mothers as they enter the room, and the smiles of both children scintillate in enthusiasm as the pairs of eyes look up and acknowledge your appearance a little further behind Wanda's still figure, following her very closely, ceasing the small section of chitchats they had between the two of them.

“Mom!”

“Mommy!”

From the sofa the boys joyfully call out to you, beaming in your direction. You can't help but do the same to them.

“Hey, my demons spawn. What are you up to there, huh?”

“We were preparing something! Okay, so, mom,” Billy speaks in response, barely seeming to be able to contain the glee of excitement inside his tiny body.

“Listen to this-!” Tommy complements his brother's phrase, in a tone of enthusiastic anticipation.

"Hey, I want to start it!" but the other twin intervenes promptly, almost indignantly.

Tommy frowns, turning up his freckled little nose towards a rather annoyed Billy, who is sitting next to his left elbow. The little boy briefly tilts his head to the left side towards his brother, and you know you've seen similar action in Wanda's characteristic mannerisms.

“No, I want to start it!”

"I want to start it!"

“But I want to start it!”

“I want to start it!”

“Why don't you both,” Wanda then promptly interferes with the small disagreement between the boys, increasing her mother's reproachful tone of voice a little, preventing, at the beginning, that the intrigue takes a somewhat bigger proportions, “Start it together?”

“Yeah,” you support her in a complacent tone of voice, “You two came up with the idea together, so the right thing would be to do it together too. Whatever it is, I mean.”

"Okay."

"Okay..."

The two of them mutter almost in almost defeated tune, fidgeting together on the couch. You think that they look cute while they're there, tiny and sitting like two baby rabbits.

"You ready?" Billy questions in a low voice, turning to the brother beside him.

“Yeah,” Tommy mussed back, nodding in agreement.

“Okay,” says Billy then, almost proudly, “Three, two, one, go.”

And then, you can barely contain a smirk when the boys, in different and discrepant voice tones, begin a silly chant in their thin children's voices. In the corner of your peripheral vision, you notice that Wanda also lets out an amorous smile, melting into a comfortable puddle of kindness, dying in love with her two singing little children sitting across from the two of you.

“We like ice cream like any child should,” they hum together, vocalizing playful tones as they proceed through the song's component words, “And if we get some ice cream, we pro-mise to be… good!”

Then they look towards the two of you, displaying expectant smiles written all over their childish faces. And you and Wanda exchange glances, and the smile she offers you is very similar to the one that graces the curve of Billy's lips.

"Nice try, smarty-pants, but you haven't even had dinner yet."

“But mama,” Tommy replies in a pleading tone of voice, “We really want ice cream!”

“Yes, we want ice cream!” exclaims Billy in agrément, "We can't wait!"

“Well, we can have dinner first, then ice cream. What do you guys think?" you offer them, your eyes darting towards Wanda's face, "But you need to have dinner first to grow to be strong and healthy, and ice cream is for dessert only. Right, mama?"

Wanda looks in your direction, and then smiles. And you smile back, because the situation is prone to do so. You, for the first time in so long, feel welcomed and hassle-free in the presence of others. The air inside the house is blissful and warm, so unlike your empty, disdainful apartment forgotten somewhere on the West Side of Midtown Manhattan. Wanda doesn't feel like your ex-wife right now – at least, that's not how she looks at you.

“Right,” her eyes flash pale green beams towards you “Let's have dinner first, mommy.”

ᗢ

You wake up in the middle of the night, but maybe you just haven't fallen asleep at all. The sheets that grace the bottom of your body are soft and comfortable, and the pajama set you wear is not your property. It's late in the course of the long night, and like so many that have passed before this one, you just know you wouldn't be able to rest your relaxation anytime soon.

How could you even do it? Perhaps you stayed longer than you realized detailing the gloomy ceiling of Wanda's guest room, counting in your mind as you scrutinized every passing second so that you still had control over something (time being something), so that you wouldn't go mad at being dismembered alive by each of your own inner demons.

If the beginning of the night was watered in jubilation and a serene comforting coziness on your part, the firstfruits of the dawn soon came to frustrate you in the form of intrusive thoughts quite harmful to your twisted mental health.

The torrential rain didn't stop anytime soon, and after having dinner with Wanda and the boys (in a very warm congregation, you were sitting at the table with your family, eating the same food as them and breathing the same oxygen, always supported by grins of pleasure as you chatted eagerly with each other), and the twins were slow to fall asleep after two generous mugs of chocolate mint ice cream each.

Your ex-wife insisted that you stay for the night after the two of you carried them upstairs and deposited them in their respective tidy beds, showering each of them with chaste kisses to the tops of their childish heads – Wanda's little staycation was long-forgotten by then. You let out a disturbed sigh, both palms of your hands polishing the length of the dull face of yours.

What the fuck, you think, what the fuck are you doing there? This may even be your family, but this is not your house. It's not your home. Not anymore. Reverberating through your insides you find the throttling need for a drag of a cigarette eating away at the bottom of your lungs like a harmful parasite sucking the life from its source, and then you get up to do it, because lying down feels like it consumes you from within in a profuse haze of bubbling anxiety that bursts from your stomach to your mouth, making you feel so weak inside.

It has always struck you as a somewhat ironic cynicism on the part of the universe that you, who are possessed of an impenetrable shell on the outside, suffer so much from the brittle fragility of your own interior – hard skin does nothing to protect a broken mind.

The lavender bedclothes had begun to tighten the muscle in your neck after a while, and in the room just down the hall, you assume Wanda sleeps comfortably cuddling in her bed. When searching inside the single pocket of your hoodie, the well-folded garment on top of a plain desk in the corner of the room, soaked in the darkness of the shadowy environment, the absconse pack of cigarettes from a brand that you are quite familiar with, that keeps you company in the acrimonious moments of solitude, you take a single cylindrical unit towards the spaces open to your drooping mouth and then you find the cold lighter with your fingertips, leaving for the entrance door of the room offered to you by your ex-wife.

After descending the stairs, stepping one step at a time with your bare feet, you are surprised that the door leading to the backyard is already open before you are even there, and the cold night wind has blown inside the house like a curious, invisible animal, installing an icy feeling of dysphoria within the broad walls.

But before you could search with your watchful eye for some intruder who went beyond the icy specter of the night, in avid state of alert, you notice an apollonian silhouette hunched outside, sitting on the step outside the door, with a long waterfall of soft hair in the color of a raven's down running halfway down her spine.

The restlessness that weighed heavily on your shoulders eased as the familiar full-bodied scent of hibiscus tea mixed with the sweetness of a mild strawberry shampoo slithered into your nostrils and filled your lungs thirsty for smoke and tobacco. As you approach, you see that Wanda, wearing a sheer silk robe over a red nightgown, is accompanied by a large cup that exhales small clouds of steam, with the tiny bundle that carries the tea herbs submerged into the hot water inside the dark container.

"You really have loud thoughts," Wanda's small, soft voice ripples through the air and then hugs your body as your ex-wife turns toward you with a lingering slowness that, to you, is as familiar as the taste of your unsmoked cigarette.

Her eyes glow an intoxicating green hue amid the darkness of the night, only supported by the silver light of the moonlight coming from outside the residence. You feel like a frog being studied on a silver platter in some high school biology class.

Wanda's diligent gaze always seemed to be able to penetrate through the cracks of your soul – she always understood you as if she were an expert when dealing with any subject concerning you. You let out an uneasy sigh, oddly scratching the inside of your throat as you do.

"Sorry if I woke you up, it wasn't... it wasn't my... intention."

“It’s okay,” she mumbles serenely over a sip of hot tea, the pulp of her nacarine lips being moistened by the hot liquid she's ingested, “I still haven't been able to sleep anyway.”

And it's no surprise to you, because you slept and woke up next to this woman for several of the component years of your life span, and it was always well known to you that Wanda is a woman quite affected by long sleepless nights, not being able to afford to actually close her eyes and be fortunate enough to have a good night's sleep.

Countless were the nights turned to morning dawns, when you both resided under the same roof in the compound back at the Avengers Tower, so many years before you were there, standing in the middle of her kitchen, silently watching her perform the simple act of drinking tea at her backyard door.

“Still having trouble sleeping?”

“Once in a while,” Wanda answers you, and with her eyes she indicates the empty space next to her right elbow so you can sit there, “Sometimes I need to relearn how to sleep all by myself. And... It's not easy, when I’m under the same roof as you again.”

Without saying a word, you cross the entire length of the kitchen, passing by the island and the marble sink, to be seated on the marble step that freezes your warm skin, next to the woman who smells of hibiscus with strawberries and deep scarlet tones.

Her eyes recognize the figure of the unsmoked cigarette between your fingers, unlit and forgotten like the insignificant little rolled-up tobacco paper that it is, and then she looks toward the profile of your silhouette, blinking once with her thick eyelashes as she does so.

“You start smoking again?”

“Yeah, it's been a while, actually. A couple of years to be honest. Not that I'm proud of it, but,” your gaze shifts to the small cylinder, turning it between the digits of your index and middle fingers of your tender right hand, “This little shit here helps me calm down, I guess. Or at least I like to think so. I don’t know."

Silence touches both of you shoulders, and there is a moment for Wanda to sip more of the tea that has spilled into her cup. When the drink is gone, then all the way into her stomach, she places the container on the floor, close to her left ankle like a tame kitten, safe from her company. You are still hesitating in the uncertainty of whether or not to light up that damned tempting cigarette.

“Earlier today,” she begins, immediately drawing your attention to her pretty face, and you're met with her pink lip as she clamps her upper teeth over the contour of her wet mouth.

“You and me and the boys... it was good. They like having you around. And I... I like it too, Y/n. It felt right.”

She hums in the sigh of the night. You feel a crackling feeling swelling inside your swollen chest, but you don't say anything in sequence, because it's Wanda who continues to talk in her silver moonlight monologue.

“I had forgotten what it was like to feel like this. Me and you acting like family with the boys the way we’re supposed to be. And it's good, Y/n. It’s… really good. I missed that, you. I missed you.”

You choke relatively. For Wanda, a heartbeat rumbled in her ears. And then she looks at you, and you look at her.

And suddenly, you don't want to light that cigarette anymore – because she leans her chin forward, leaning her head towards you, and you do the same when your body cries out for her, lips colliding in midair like the consolidation of a wish, a scarlet fever supernova bursting within your own chest.

And then, the full-bodied freshness of hibiscus darts into the half-open breach in the gap between your lips, pressing a velvety tongue against the slit between your teeth, discharging into your mouth a red-sour-sweet flavor, definitely good though, but rougher than usual as the two of you now share a needy, somewhat sloppy, even animalistic kiss.

Even if there is indeed a need on Wanda's part, and you just need someone to scare you away from the evil inside your head. Your ex-wife, in a thoughtless act, dives with her clever hands into the thin fabric of the tank top that clothes your impenetrable skin, grabbing the sides of your waist in a needy way, as if all she wanted at that moment was to feel you, as if her entire existence existed based on physically feeling you snuggled into her icy body.

She blinks, consenting to the overflow of her feelings, enraptured by the image of your cheeks burning and your chest heaving. And she does what she thinks is right to do, which seems to be the only option possible in this small moment of affection and dedication, filled with an ember that if she could name it, she would call it love - because she knows she love you, even if she didn't say it out loud yet. You are the love of her life, and she is the love of yours.

Wanda then hurls herself even farther forward, a nymph figure smitten with idolatry, and takes her prize, pressing the commission of her red lips against the outlined mouth with the flavor of melancholy that could belong to none other than you, so exotic, and never the same.

You feel the smart hands rest at the end of your spine with an almost practiced disregard, seeking nothing but feeling at first, far from the lascivious idea of consolidating the carnal act. Wanda just wants to feel you close, all to herself, comfortable in her grip. Between a set of pink lips, a tongue is present, and this tongue curls up in another in a not hasty and exaggerated way. It's elegant. It's careful. It is harmonious.

But a slow kiss unravels, and Wanda holds her breath and returns in search of more of her favorite flavor to keep in her mouth, only to be promptly reciprocated by a devoted you, a soft nostalgic familiarity edging your silhouettes connected by the lips beneath a star-studded sky, with an absorbed perfection that no one else but the two of you would be able to achieve.

Up and down, side and side; surrounded by genuine attunement, lips moved carefully, following an invisible line that dictates your not so reckless actions. A waltz of delicate, tangible lips that still fit together so perfectly, so neatly, that you might as well cry.

But the pacified kiss soon takes the form of a fervent kiss as you pant hot against your ex-wife's lips, and the fervent kiss becomes little kisses sprinkled around her neck that soon dissolve into a hollow moan, into a world where there didn't seem to be any more worries as long as you were in each other's arms.

In her own time, Wanda drags her teeth along the lower lip of your mouth, which groans deeply in response with a tingling in your throat, a tiny fraction of time passing until, like a buzz, quick, rough lips take refuge again in a tongue inside your mouth, and you feel an icy hand grasp your breast in a primitive way.

Clever fingers, soaked in crimson, traveled to your scalp, and a light mouth caresses yet another moan of yours. In a heartbeat, Wanda swings a leg over your knees and sits right on top of your lap, grabbing your wrists to put your hands around her waist.

“Please,” she cries against your lips, “Please, Y/n, touch me. Make me feel you again.”

The feeling is familiar. Toxically familiar. It is the red invading your senses, intoxicating you with dense doses of scarlet. You know very well that, even before the enticements of alcohol and cigarettes, your primary vice has always been the crimson sweetness of Wanda's body. And, well… you're not known for being resistant to the temptations of your addictions.

ᗢ

A crimson marble glow glistening under the palms of both your hands. Sweat glistened in the hollow of your groin across your burning hips. Wanda riding on your lap, naked as a Renaissance painting displayed in the dim light of a museum, her chest heavy like a marathon runner. The long, thick length of the red strap brushed against a specific spot on her inner walls that made her delirious and increasingly pivot her hips toward you, seeking more, brushing against each other like two animals in heat.

There was nothing rational in that animalistic act. The symphony in the room was that of skin beating wet against skin; of her lascivious wetness voraciously swallowing your cock.

You could see it from the single, retracted drop of sweat that poured into the valley between her own swollen breasts, the two mounds swaying just before your lascivious eyes; a delight modulated to your stormy gaze, profuse as sea water, which clouded your young girlfriend's body with a predatory look, immersed in illicit labor.

Your insides tingled in a white-hot tingle, both clits sliding through the material of the strap, the insides of your thighs strong and wet against Wanda's pulsing center.

Her tight pussy pressing against the erect silicone phallus between your legs, the red of the material buffed with the sticky juices from inside of her. That was her bed, her sheets wet beneath your sweaty bodies, the walls of her room reverberating the pornographic grunts and moans from deep in her throat.

“F-fuck-!” she clenched her teeth, her nails lacquered with black nail polish carving red paths in the muscles of your back, “Y/n, fuck, right there, ah-!”

Her thick Sokovian accent spilled into your ears, and something primal and cavernous rumbled inside you, like a spark that explodes in a raging fire. You wanted to own her. You wanted to consume her.

You wanted to eat her alive; fuck her until the mold of your strap was forever etched into the walls of her greedy cunt, which was increasingly squeezing the silicone phallus, a delicious pressure forming a red knot just below her belly button.

“Ah-! Ah-!, pozhaluysta, pozhaluysta-!” she gasped in her native dialect, loud and clear against your ear as you fucked her as hard as possible “Trakhni menya... ya pochti u tseli, ya po-pochti u tseli... Ugh, dorogaya!”

“Fuck, are you close?”

“M-mhmm! ” she kind of moaned, both eyes squinted two lewd lines “Please don't stop, don't stop Y/n, ah-!”

The scream was loud as you dropped her suddenly onto the sheets, her sweaty back slamming against the thick material of the mattress, her dark hair spilling across the pale material of the pillow.

You slipped your hands between the folds of both her knees and brought her lower back close, barely giving her time to miss your strap inside her dripping cunt before guiding the red material between her sticky folds, resuming the vigorous action of fucking your way against her cervix.

Your strong hand pressed itself (as did the bone of your jaw) against the upholstered headboard, and there a rip was deferred by your own touch – as it had done to a plucked pillow, and a lampshade shattered to the ground.

The lamp above your heads flashed white. Wanda's eyes glowed a profuse scarlet that swallowed the moss green of her irises, the darkening of her dilated pupils making her eyes look like two bottomless wells of lust. You buried your face against the beam of sweaty skin that joined her neck to her collarbone, and placed a generous, savage bite there.

“Fuck- I’m gonna cum, I'm gonna– fuck! Y/n! Oh, fuck!” she decreed, panting against your bare neck, pressing her fingers against your buttocks in an incitement to the act they so indomitably committed.

“Come for me Wanda,” you murmured against her ear, “Come on my cock, pretty girl, make a mess for me. I wanna hear you fucking scream my name.”

The bed hit the wall again. And again. And again. You didn't stop at the first orgasm. Nor in the second. Nor on the third. Until you abandoned her in the middle of the night.

[belovas-vest]

Still waking up beneath it all

Pairing: Agatha & Rio Rating: G Words: 1,112 Summary: Agatha recalls the last time someone enjoyed her company. A/N: It's been a minute and I am swamped with things, so I apologize in advance for the typos & errors. Title from The Love You Want by Sleep Token.

“I like it here,” Billy says to Agatha, holding Señor Scratchy.

Here, in this home, Billy likes it. A normally empty home except on the nights when the wind howls the windows and Señor Scratchy's water bottle rattles against the cage. Then she’s reminded of ghosts from the past; the voice of a child that sounds a lot like Billy and Tommy’s and one that sounds like Wanda–dry and sarcastic. It all cuts deep into her chest, right into the middle of her lower ribs as she recalls the last time someone had said that to her. It was centuries ago, she knows; before she hid behind the Dark Hold because hiding behind power was easier than dealing with the unresolved pain of growing under the thumb of a mother who could only see her as malefic. 

Billy likes it though and Agatha can recall the last time someone had said those words to her, or at least the first time they were uttered by someone she can’t ever seem to outrun because her heart is settled in her chest, and there’s no escaping that.

The house of 1745 sat in a secluded wood miles from town. It was better that way, Agatha thought. It kept her safe, more so than anything else; coveted away from the everyday mortal who might see past her prickly exterior and fake husband. More importantly, it brought her peace–something, until she had gotten away from her mother, had been hard to come by. The windows of the house rattle in the winter storm, the crackling fire burns its warmth in the kitchen, and Agatha looks at the dried herbs hanging across the wall beside her. She’s not sure what Rio wants of these, she just knows that Rio had asked her to collect some for the stew she would be making for dinner – for her. 

“You really don’t have to,” Agatha says nervously when Rio offers to make dinner for the other witch and keep her company during this wicked snowstorm. 

“I’d like to,” Rio said simply, already cutting into a slab of meat. 

“You’re being too kind to a woman who slammed a door in your face,” Agatha responds, thinking to just a few hours ago when Rio had come by unexpectedly. Then the snow was only just starting to fall and the clouds hadn’t quite swirled into something more sinister. Agatha hadn’t seen the woman in just over 50 years, yet when Agatha finally let Rio in, they had fallen into a comfortable conversation in the living room as they caught up on what was going on with their lives. 

“I think you fear your mother would somehow appear and berate you for seeing me,” Rio says softly, almost too casually as if she’s not reading Agatha like a book, read through so thoroughly the corners have bent, the spine frayed, and splotches with coffee stains.

Agatha’s not sure what to say, but she grabs a bundle of herbs for Rio and sets them gently beside the other woman. She gives Rio an appreciative look, unsure when it had happened that Rio was so understanding of her. “Well then,” she starts with a bit more energy to her voice, as she turns, rolling her sleeves up as she walks towards the living space, “I will make sure we have a nice table to eat at.” 

Her lips twitch into a smile before she moves to place candles on the table and arranges dried flowers as the centerpiece. Over the fire, she sets a small cauldron and places apples, orange peels, and cinnamon sticks in it. Needless to say, by the time she and Rio have finished their tasks, it feels like a husband and wife sitting down for a romantic dinner. Agatha thinks for a brief moment how silly that must be to think two women could do the same. Yet there’s a warm, cozy smell wafting in the room from the cauldron, and an adoring look in Rio’s eyes as she laughs at Agatha’s humiliating story of having to suddenly hide her use of magic while trying to gather fish at the nearby river, that makes her think she might not be silly after all.

“This is nice,” Rio says before taking a sip of wine, “I like it here. You’re good to be around when you’re not being bristly.” There’s a small tug at the edge of her lips and her tone, although dry, errs on teasing from what Agatha recalls – though it has been half a century since she’s seen Rio, so she could always be wrong about the other woman. Yet, Agatha settles in whatever familiarity of Rio she can hold on to. After all, Rio had been the first and only witch to offer her kindness before the trial. 

“Bristly?” Her brow cocks at Rio. 

Rio hums as she sets the cup down. “You were quite… prickly when we first met, you know. Or at least you can be when you’re upset.” 

“Says Death.” Agatha counters with a frown, feeling defensive. 

Rio seems to soften at Agatha’s defensiveness, “I’m happy to see you outside of your mother’s hold.” 

“I didn’t mean to–” Agatha starts, wanting to explain that night to Rio, but Rio’s hand reaches out for hers and the touch alone causes her to hold her breath. 

“You don’t have to apologize for keeping yourself alive.” Rios’ voice is serious as her thumb brushes across the top of Agatha’s hand. “I don’t blame you, Agatha. I didn’t come here seeking your apologies or guilt.” 

“Then why did you?” Agatha looks at their hands before looking back at Rio. 

Rio’s eyes fall from Agatha’s face and her lips purse in thought. Her head shakes slightly as she bites her lip and then finally looks back at Agatha. She moves her hand from Agatha’s and Agatha wonders why she misses Rio’s touch so much. Yet Agatha watches as Rio reaches for one of the dried flowers. “I like your company,” she says as if the compliment is foreign to her, but her fingers brush over the rest of the flowers, she brings them all back to life. Perhaps the compliment is foreign after all, Agatha thinks, knowing her time spent with Rio in the 1600s, although friendly, had never been as soft as the way Rio is currently looking at her right now, face illuminated by the burning candles. Perhaps foreign feelings and words aren’t so bad. She certainly doesn’t mind the foreign feeling of Rio’s hand returning to hers. 

Billy’s next words shatter the memory, “You’re quiet Agnes.” 

He doesn’t even know who she is.

A deeper part of her wishes he did.

Rio did.

[mostlymarvelsstuff]

Okay I am in love with your Bleeding out series! Can I request like, Natasha and Reader playfully arguing on the baby’s name if they’re a boy, like Natasha votes the name Tommy and Reader votes for the name Billy. And at the end, SURPRISE! TWINS! Just something cute!

Also, would the kids have all three of the parents’ DNA or one kid would have Natasha and Wanda’s DNA and the other Reader and Wanda’s DNA?

Bleeding Out, part 4

Authors note: sorry this took so long to get to. Hope you all enjoy it regardless! 💖

Authors note 2.0: honestly its a magical conception so im gonna go ahead and say that the babies have all three of their parents DNA

Word count: 2031

Warnings: none, all fluff

WandaNat Masterlist Marvel Masterlist Bleeding Out Masterlist

Only a few days have passed since Wanda startled you awake by her revelation, but ever since then the Sokovian has been non-stop preparing. She's ordered nearly every book Amazon had about the early stages of pregnancy and has already begun to make a wishlist for everything the nursery must have as well as throwing in a few wants that she found adorable. 

   And just yesterday the three of you had gone shopping for maternity clothes for her. She couldn’t help but purchase shirts for each of you while there however. Now finding matching shirts for a throuple that's about to have a child would usually be a rather hard thing, but the good news is that the three of you have a sense of humor. Thats how Nat finds herself the proud owner of a “Baby Daddy” shirt, while Wanda has a “Baby Mama” shirt, and you find yourself owning a lovely “Babys Favorite” shirt. 

   Today however Wanda's focus is set on finding the absolute best doctor in the area for her and the baby. She's been awake for a few hours now, her need to pee forcing her from slumber even earlier than Nat used to get up for her workouts and she finds her mix of excitement and nervousness prevents her from falling back to sleep. So she's spent her time typing away on her phone as she sits between you and Natasha on the bed. 

  Natasha is cuddled close, her face pressed against the witch's side while her arm drapes protectively over Wandas belly and her hand resting on the small of your back. You're splayed out on Wandas other side, arms wrapped around your pillow as you nuzzle further into it. 

   She chuckles, and brings her free hand down to the redhead's face. She softly strokes Natashas cheek with her thumb before moving to massage the woman's scalp. The Russian softly mumbles, showing her appreciation for the affection even in her sleep.

   “Wan?” your sleepy voice suddenly calls out, clearly confused as to why your Sokovian girlfriend was awake this early. Especially when your Russian girlfriend was not, “You ok?”

   “I’m fine detka(baby), just a bit restless is all.” she eases your worries with a smile before setting her phone down, bringing her now free hand to grab one of yours

   A moment of silence passes, long enough for her to think you’d fallen back asleep, before you speak again, “Tasha still asleep?”

   “Mhm, out cold still.”

   You shift around a bit, stretching to wake yourself up before sitting up like Wanda was. She expects you to scoot closer to her and wrap your arm around her, your usual routine upon waking up. But instead you swing your legs over the side of the bed and stand with a grunt.

   “Where are you heading?” the Sokovian asks, an adorable look of confusion on her face

   “Gonna go make us all breakfast” you happily reply, eager to take advantage of the assassins unusual decision to sleep in, “How do you feel about waffles?”

   She smiles, “With chocolate chips?”

   “Of course my love” you reply, leaning over to give her a quick peck on the lips before leaving the room 

   Your time in the kitchen is spent listening to your favorite playlist at a low volume while you whip up some waffles. You made two for each of you, loading them up with enough chocolate chips to satisfy your pregnant girlfriend while also making your dentist shudder. Then you topped them off with butter, syrup, a dollop of whipped cream and a sliced up strawberry. 

   After gathering everything on a tray you headed back to the bedroom. Upon entering Natashas snores fill the air, causing you to stifle a laugh. You’d always found it cute how she would adamantly deny her snoring when confronted with it, yet at times she’d sound like a growling bear. How appropriate, you mused, as she was now a soon to be mother and you knew without a doubt she would protect them like a mother bear did her cubs.

   “Tasha, darling” Wanda calls out, gently shaking the sleeping womans shoulder. Nat groans and tries to bury her face further into Wandas side and the Witch lets out a laugh, “Come on, wake up. Y/n made breakfast”

   The Russian groggily sits up and rubs her eyes, which you smile at. Never did you think an assassin could be adorable, but Nat always proved you wrong. Finally she looks up at you and gives you a sleepy smile

  “Mornin’ ”

  “Good morning sleepy head. Would you like some waffles?”

   A mixture of emotions fills her at your offer. She hadn’t realized it but due to her early morning routine of workouts and personal time she hasn’t shared many breakfasts with you both since your returns yet. So mostly she's just had a bowl of cereal, a bagel, or one of Wandas many specialties. Meaning she hasn't had your waffles, or anything of your making since….well since before they went back in time to save you. 

  She hadn’t realized how loud her thoughts about this were until she feels one of the other redheads arms wrap around her waist. She gives the older woman a knowing look and nods her head before they both look back at your still smiling face.

   “I’d love some waffles” she replies, reaching out for her plate. You hand it to her, then hand Wanda hers before taking your spot on the bed with your own. After a few moments Nat takes a bite, “Mmm, still the best waffles ever”

   You smile wide at her praise, “Thanks babe, I’m really glad you guys like them”

   Wanda shakes her head, “We love them detke(baby)”

   Too hungry to carry on a conversation, the three of you finish up your meals in silence. And despite you telling her to remain in bed, Wanda insists on helping you carry everything back out to the kitchen. Nat follows you both out, adamant that she’ll do the dished since you had cooked and Wanda was pregnant. 

   “You guys know that just because I’m pregnant now, doesn’t mean I can’t do small things around the house, right?”

   “We know sweetheart” you reply, smiling at her, “And I’m sure eventually we’ll ease up a bit, but right now we’re in protective mode”

  The Russian nods in agreement, “We just want to take care of you lyubov'(love)”

   “I know” the Sokovian replies, kissing each of you on the cheek, “Just don’t spoil me too much”

   “No promises” you tell her as the three of you head into the living room for a day of leisure.

   A few hours later, the three of you are curled up on the sofa, watching tv as Wanda is back on her phone looking for doctors. 

   “I think I finally found one. She's close by and all of her patients have really nice things to say about her.”

   Nat leans over to look at the phone, “Well, if you like how she sounds, why don’t we set up an appointment? See if she's a good fit.”

   You nod in agreement, so Wanda does just that and sets up an appointment for the following week. After confirming the appointment she switches to her phone's pregnancy app. She enjoys all of the information it tells you, from the size of the baby to other information

  “Oh!” she excitedly exclaims, looking at one of the facts on her phone

   Natashas head snaps to the woman, “What? What is it? Are you ok?”

   You chuckle as the Russian frets, “Nat, calm down. She's right here, nothings happened”

   “Right, sorry lyubov'(love)”

   “It's alright honey, you're allowed to worry” Wanda tells her, kissing her cheek, “But I am fine. I was just excited by what the app says”

   You both look at her expectantly, waiting to hear whatever news the app holds that managed to excite her so much

   “It says here that by the time I see the doctor, we should be able to get told the sex of our baby”

   Natashas eyes light up and her hand instinctively reaches out to rest on Wandas bump, “Really?”

   She nods and you smile wide, “I guess that means we should start discussing names then, huh?”

   A few days later the only progress made on names was the agreement that your baby wouldn’t be named after a team member.

   “Claire?” you offer, going down the list of baby girl names on your phone

   Wanda shakes her head, “No, it's too common. No offense malysh(baby)”

   “None taken” you reply, looking over to Nat in the hopes that she has a better idea

   “What about Katerina?” 

   Wandas face lights up, “Oh Natasha, I love it! It’s beautiful!”

   “I love it too” you admit, closing the tab of ideas on your phone

   Your pregnant girlfriend's face suddenly looks thoughtful once more though, “But what if we’re having a boy?”

    “Thomas”

    “William”

   You and Natasha say in unison before glaring at each other. The witch, knowing she was in for an argument, lets out a huff and decides to let the two of you duke it out. For now at least.

   Wanda had thought the two of you would have come to an agreement by now. She had even given them other name options in the hopes of finding some common ground, but unfortunately nothing has changed. Natasha was still firm with her choice of Thomas and you were still firm with your choice of William.

   “Please my loves” Wanda pleads, resting her hand on her bump in the cars passenger seat, “Lets just go to this appointment without any fuss and spend the rest of the day enjoying ourselves. I mean, we might not even need to choose a boys name”

   You smile at her, and agree that you and Nat had taken things a bit too far with the name debate, “Of course sweetheart. Name picking can wait for a bit, right Nat?”

   The Russians focused and furrowed brow softens as she glances at you in the rearview mirror and she reaches out to give Wandas free hand a reassuring squeeze, “Of course it can wait. All that matters right now is making sure you and the baby are safe and healthy.”

   Anxiety and excitement fills the three of you as you enter the exam room, and though the doctor is a little confused on the dynamic of a three person relationship with a pregnancy involved she doesn’t question it. After all it's abundantly clear the love the three of you share, and happiness is practically rolling off all of you.

   The doctor begins the normal examination to ensure all are healthy, and she gives Wanda a small reprimand for waiting so long to see a doctor. Of course she sits there and agrees she should have come sooner, because who would believe her if she said ‘oh, well I actually became four months pregnant only about two weeks ago due to my magical abilities’. Avenger or not, she'd probably find herself in the looney bin for saying such a thing. Even if it was the truth.

   After ensuring Wanda herself is as healthy as can be, she moves to get the ultrasound equipment ready to check on the baby. When she brings it all back over and begins to get the witch ready you can’t help but wonder if anyone else in the room can hear your excited heartbeat, or if it's only your ears it's drumming in.

   Natasha takes a deep breath to steady herself, she hasn’t really let herself dwell on the fact that she's obtaining what she never thought possible. Motherhood. But now that she's finally going to be able to not just feel, but see her baby too….she's struggling to contain her emotions

   And as the picture lights up the screen all three of your faces light up in wonder. There, on the screen is the image of two little babies. 

   “Well, looks like I was right. The two of you won’t have to decide on a name” Wanda says, caressing her stomach, “Hi there Tommy and Billy. We’re your moms”

Taglist: @wandaromamoff69 @when-wolves-howl @danveration @sheneonromanoff @sayah13 @likefirenrain @nighttime-dreaming @just-a-torn-up-masterpiece @chaoticevilbakugo @crystalstark02 @wackymcstupid @lovelyy-moonlight @blackwidow-3 @mistressofinsomnia @that-one-gay-mosquito @yomamagf @yourfavdummy @justarandomreaderxoxo @scoutlp23-blog @whoischanelle15 @lissaaaa145 @eline03 @wizardofstories@imthenatynat @marvelonmymind @fluffyblanketgecko @bitch-616 @dakotastorm @zoomdeathknight

[bloomingflowersthings]

That’s how she knows

Author’s note: Yayy! I’m back!! Finally got some time to finish my fics!! thank you for your patience <3

Pairings: WandaNat, WandaNat x toddler!reader, WandaNat x child!reader

Warnings: crappy enchanted-inspired title, tooth rotting fluff, WandaNat family, two redheads finally getting to be happy.

AU! where Wanda and Natasha are dating!! (no vision, srry). Wanda had the twins billy and tommy using ~magic~ and natasha adopted a baby from the red room when she took it down.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Natasha and Wanda were trying to start a relationship. They just worked well together and loved each other deeply. However, they were taking small steps because of their kids.

Wanda had twin boys, Billy and Tommy, who were 7 years old. They were well behaved, easygoing, smart kids.

And Natasha had you, a girl adopted by her from the red room. When she took dreykov’s scheme down, Yelena surveyed the area to find people that could’ve gotten hurt in the process. But in one of the rooms she found a newborn baby, who had probably been kidnapped from her family to be the youngest widow on training. The blonde called her sister panicking, and Natasha didn’t think twice. You were her baby.

Two years have passed since she brought you home and you were turning yourself into a confident, strong and funny little girl. And the black widow was turning herself into a mother.

The boys knew about her mom going on dates and they were supportive of her, and you were too young to really understand what was going on, but you really liked Wanda and the boys.

Natasha wanted to take a step further and ask Wanda to be her girlfriend, but something was keeping her from doing it. She was so used to living alone with you that she couldn’t really see how things would work if she lived with Wanda.

How it would be like to build a family?

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Today was being a slow day. It was saturday, which meant Nat didn’t went to the compound and you also didn’t have to go to daycare. You were sleeping in late, which was unusual but the widow wasn’t complaining, that way you were sleeping more and she could prepare breakfast for the both of you calmly.

As she was finishing cutting some strawberries, you came to the kitchen in your PJs and with teary eyes.

“Mama… I feel yucky” You whined, rubbing at your eyes.

“Sweetie, what happened?” Your mama walked over you to pick you up. “Oh my, you’re burning up!” She said, laying her hand on your forehead.

You sobbed quietly and burrowed your face on her neck.

Natasha was heartbroken. You were always bubbly and happy and it was obvious that you were feeling awful. She never had to deal with a sick kid before so she was nearly panicking. How could she take care of you properly if she had no idea of how to do it?

“Hhah'ktshi! Hki'tshiew!” You sneezed down your little hands, facing away from her. The redhead was glad that you were polite even if you were still really young.

“Aw, bless you.” She said, while reaching for a tissue from the box that sat at the countertop to wipe your nose.

Suddenly, her phone ringed, prompting you to whine quietly, the sound of the ringtone making your head hurt.

“Shh… it’s okay.” She sat down on the couch, holding you while picking up her phone.

Shoot. It was Wanda. You had agreed that you’d go on a date with her and the kids at the movie theater. But looking at the flushed toddler on her lap, she understood that movie night had to be postponed.

“Hi Wands!”

“Hi Natty! I’m just calling to confirm our movie night today? the boys are really excited about it!” The witch said happily.

“Darling i’m sorry, I don’t think we’re going to be able to-“

“Hhh'ishiew! Eiiishiew! hhii’eshhiew!” You sneezed, wincing at the pressure caused on your sinuses.

“Bless you! is that Y/N?” She asked worriedly

“Yes, she just woke up and she’s miserable Wands, I have no idea of what to do, I never cared for a sick kid before, what should-“

“Sweetie calm down.” Wanda cut her girlfriend from her ramblings.

“I know it’s scary when our babies get sick. I’ve been there. Right now i’m gonna need you to pack a bag, and come over to my house. I’m gonna help you take care of her.”

“Oh Wands, I don’t want to be any trouble for you, I can figure something out.” Natasha said, not wanting to be a burden to her girlfriend.

“Nat, let me help you, I love you, I love Y/N and I want to get her to feel better, and I also want to be here for you, I don’t want you to be alone in this.”

She loves Y/N… that made Natasha smile for the first time that day.

“Okay darling, i’m coming, thank you so much!”

“Don’t mention it! See you soon”

Hanging up the phone, Nat tried to get you to lay down on the couch so she could gather your belongings. It took a while because your fever made you clingy, but you eventually calmed down, falling into a light sleep.

After packing your things, Natasha picked you up carefully, enveloping you in your favorite blanket.

“Hh-h'ktshi! H hheh'tsh!” You sneezed softly, rubbing at your itchy eyes.

“Hey princess, I need you to stop rubbing your eyes, your gonna hurt them okay?”

You nodded, coughing slightly and Nat winced at the sound of your congested chest.

“Do you know what? we’re visiting auntie Wands, isn’t that cool?” Your mama asked, trying to cheer you up.

“Play date?”

“Yes, like a playdate.”

“Yaaay.” You cheered tiredly.

Nat smiled at your cuteness and got the both of you in the car, buckling your seatbelt and draping your blanket over you.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

“Boys, I need to talk to you!” Wanda called out for the kids, who were playing in the backyard.

“I didn’t do anything, I promise!” Tommy said as he ran over to his mom.

“Your not in trouble silly, I just want to talk.” Wanda chuckled.

“Is everything alright?” Billy asked, giving his mom a side hug as they all sat at the bench in the balcony.

“Well, not really… I just called Nat to confirm our movie night, but Y/N is sick so they’re probably not going.”

“Wait, but she’s okay, right?” Billy asked, worried about you.

“She’s not doing too well buddy, but I think it’s just a cold.”

“Aww, if she’s sick we’re also not going mom, I wouldn’t have a lot of fun thinking that she’s not feeling good.” Tommy said, frowning at the thought of the sick toddler.

Wanda brushed her hand through her son’s hair, proud of his actions. “You guys are so kind.”

“Mom, can we visit her?” Billy asked. “We could make her company.”

“And you would see auntie Nat!” Tommy added, winking.

The witch laughed at her son’s antics. “Guys, I actually told Nat to come over to the weekend. Y/N has never been sick before and Nat was really nervous so I thought we could help.”

“Mom, that was a great idea!” Tommy smiled.

“Yeah, we promise we’ll behave and be the best doctors!” Billy said.

“Thank you for being so understanding, I’m really happy with you both.” She said, hugging the twins.

“Does that mean we’ll have extra ice cream for dessert?” Billy asked.

“Hmm… I’m going to think about it.” Wanda said, getting up as the doorbell rang. “Now go and play, Y/N is probably sleeping, if I need any help I’ll just ask the best doctors in the city.” She winked.

With that, the boys began to run around the backyard again.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

At the front door, there was an anxious redhead with a clearly distressed kid clinging to her. You were flushed and shivering in your sleep, and Nat just looked shaken, Wanda had never seen the both of you like this before.

“Hey guys, come in.” The witch said, while grabbing the backpack from her girlfriend’s back, in a attempt to get some weight from her.

“Thank you so much Wanda, you’re the best.” Natasha said, pulling the ginger into a hug.

“No problem darling, come on, let’s sit down.”

As both women sat on the couch, you were laid in between them, with your head on Wanda’s lap.

“Tsk poor thing, you’re not feeling well huh?” Wanda said, rubbing circles on your back as you whimpered in your sleep.

“She fell asleep in the car but I think her temperature has risen.” Your mama said, looking anxiously at her girlfriend to see if she had any ideas to get you feeling better.

Placing her delicate hands on your forehead and cheeks, the witch stated: “Natty, I think she’s a bit too warm for my liking, can you grab the thermometer on my bathroom cabinet?”

The widow quickly got up to retrieve the device, afterall, she had been to Wanda’s house enough times to know where she kept things.

“I got it.”

“Kitten, can I get your blanket for a moment?” Wanda asked, running her hands through your beautiful curls. You nodded, if you weren’t so out of it you would have asked her why she wanted your blankie, but right now you just didn’t have the energy to do so.

At the sudden loss of warmth, you started shaking more noticeably, earning worried looks from both women.

“Try and stay still princess, I promise it’ll be quick.” Your mama said as your auntie placed the thermometer in your mouth, hugging you tight.

“39.2, I really don’t like this fever Natty.” Wanda said as the device gave it’s verdict.

“Oh goodness, what should we do?”

“What about you give her a shower? try to lower that fever so we can properly feed and medicate her?” She said, moving you to your mama’s arms.

“That’s a good idea, what bathroom can I use?”

“You should go to my room, it’s more comfortable.”

“Ok, I’m going.” Nat said. “Hey bug, we’re going to take a nice shower now okay?” She cooed, entering Wanda’s room.

As the witch searched for some medicine in the cupboards, the twins entered the kitchen, slightly out of air because they were playing tag.

“Hey mom! where’s Y/N?”

“Hi boys, she’s taking a shower, why don’t you do the same? you’re kinda sweaty.”

“Okay!!”

The boys ran upstairs to shower and Wanda finally found the bottle of medicine. She gathered everything that she could need, like tissues and the thermometer and made her way to her room.

Entering the bedroom, Nat had already finished cleaning and dressing you. The witch approached the chair where Natasha was sitting with you on her lap. Your shivering decreased noticeably and you weren’t as pale as before, but you were still quiet and looking miserable.

“Hey princess, are you all clean?” Wanda asked, kneeling down to your level.

You nodded and made grabby hands, signaling the witch that you wanted to be held by her.

She’s so precious. The woman thought to herself as she picked you up, raising her hand to your forehead to feel that your fever wasn’t as high as before.

“She adores you. Whenever we go out she keeps talking about you.” The redhead stated, giving a kiss to her girlfriend’s cheek.

“Aww, is it true Y/N? do you like me?”

You hummed in agreement and started caressing her ear, something that you only did to your mama. For some reason, you trusted Wanda and you could feel your mama’s happiness whenever she was around.

“Let’s go prepare lunch? I bet you’re hungry.” Wanda asked the redhead.

“I’m helping you.”

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

While the two adults were preparing some lunch, you were sitting on the couch with the boys, watching finding nemo. It was peaceful, until your nose started tickling.

“Hehh…”

“Don’t cover with your hands.” Billy alerted, making you lose the need to sneeze. He got up and brought the tissues for when you needed them.

“If you need to sneeze, try to cover with these, ok?”

You nodded and gave him a thumbs up. Nat and Wanda smiled at each other, admiring the way that you got along well.

“Hh-“ The tickle returned and you didn’t got enough time to pull the tissues, prompting Tommy to use his super speed to help you.

“Heh’iishioo! Hu’tshhiew! Hhheh'tsh!” You sneezed down the tissues that the boy used to cover your nose.

“Bless you.” The boys said in unison. “I’m going to wash my hands.” Tommy added.

“They’re so cute.” Wanda whispered to Nat not wanting to interrupt the interaction.

“The boys are so precious, they get it from you.” Nat purred, making the other woman blush.

“Guys, food’s ready!” Wanda announced, prompting you to make your way to the table.

Everyone sat down to eat and you got secured in the high chair that Wanda had in the house just for you. Nat finished eating quickly so she could feed you.

As she started spoon feeding you, your throat started hurting a lot. It was like there was a thousand needles prickling you. And it made tears fill your eyes. However you were well educated, so you forcefully swallowed the soup, making tears fill your eyes.

“Ow…” You whimpered quietly, crying at the pain that you felt.

“What happened baby?” Nat asked, catching the tears that rolled down your cheek.

“Hurts…”

“Don’t cry. Where do you hurt?” Wanda asked, holding your hand.

“Mom, her throat must be hurting.” Billy said.

“Yeah, that’s why she’s so quiet.” Tommy added.

“Is that it sweetie, your throat hurts?”

You nodded, sobbing quietly.

“Let’s try to eat a little bit more? Can you try that?” Your mama asked. You hadn’t eaten all day and she couldn’t give you medicine on an empty stomach.

You shook your head no. You were exhausted and feeling yucky and you didn’t wanted to eat or take medicine.

“Y/N, what about this, you try to eat a little bit more, and take your medicine like a brave girl, and when your fever lowers I can give you a popsicle. Would you like that?”

You nodded slowly.

“If you’re too scared we can take some medicine so you see it’s not a big deal!” Tommy offered.

“That’s so sweet, but it won’t be necessary, medicine is only for sick people.” Nat thanked the boy, messing with his hair.

You ate a little more and the boys cheered when you took your medicine without complaining.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

You guys had a peaceful afternoon, with the boys playing legos with you and the both women just chilling and chatting. However, with the eventful day you had, you were starting to get sleepy. Noticing how tired you were, Wanda spoke up: “Hey guys, how about we call it a day? I bet you’re exhausted.”

“Yeah, I’m kinda tired.” Billy admitted.

“Okay, Nat, i’m just going to put the boys to slee-

“Mom, how about aunt Nat put us to sleep?” Tommy said, wanting some more time with the redhead.

The witch looked over at her girlfriend, who had the biggest smile on her face.

“Of course I can put you to sleep! I’d love to!”

With that, the boys kissed Wanda and you good night and made their way to the bedroom along Natasha.

After tucking the boys in, Natasha sat in the middle of both beds, holding the boys hands until they’d fall asleep.

“Did you know that our mom loves you?” Tommy said, breaking the silence.

After processing what the boy had just said, Nat asked: “Did she say that?”

“It’s obvious that she loves you, just look at the way she looks at you.” Billy stated. “We also love you, and Y/N. Do you love us too?”

“I do boys. I love you guys and I love your mom.”

“So why you haven’t asked to marry her yet?”

Nat chuckled. “It’s not that simple guys, something like this would change our lives forever, and you’re really young yet.”

“I’d like that change…” Tommy said.

“I’d also like it, very much.” The redhead said, getting up and kissing the twin’s foreheads.

••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••••

Entering the living room, Natasha saw the most beautiful scene in front of her.

Wanda was rocking you so sleep, singing you a sokovian lullaby. You were already asleep in her arms, looking peaceful and happy.

That’s when Nat decided that she would love to get home everyday to this scene.

That she would love to put the boys to bed.

That she would love to always help Wanda cooking.

That she would love to see you growing along with the twins.

That this was her family. And she wanted to spend the rest of her life like this.

[galaxysupreme17]

The Young Avengers Vs Loki

Y/n = Your Name

The night was cold, and the streets of New York City were unusually quiet, but the Young Avengers were anything but calm. Loki had returned, and the god of mischief was wasting no time making his presence known. Y/n Maximoff-Harkness, the 17-year-old daughter of Agatha Harkness and Wanda Maximoff, stood alongside her team in the Avengers Tower briefing room. A hologram of the city displayed a series of magical traps scattered across key locations.

"We have to be fast," Y/n said, glancing at the map with a furrowed brow. "Loki's not messing around this time."

Her twin brothers, Tommy and Billy, flanked her, both exchanging anxious glances. Yelena leaned against the wall with her arms crossed, her usual bravado giving way to a flicker of concern. Kate Bishop, Peter Parker, and James Rogers were gathered around the table, their faces set in determination.

"Okay, team," Kate said, breaking the tension. "What's the plan? We can't just wander into his traps blind."

"We need to split up," Y/n suggested, her voice steady despite the nerves bubbling inside her. "We can cover more ground that way and disarm the traps before they cause any chaos."

"Let's get to it then," Peter chimed in, adjusting his web-shooters. "We don't have all night."

"Agreed," Y/n replied, steeling herself. She could feel her purple magic pulsating under her skin, a reminder of her heritage and the weight of expectations that came with it.

The first trap awaited them in Central Park. As the team arrived, the trees loomed overhead, casting eerie shadows. The air crackled with magical energy. In the center of the park stood a seemingly innocuous fountain, but Y/n could sense the dark magic swirling around it.

"Careful," she warned, stepping forward. "It's linked to a time spell. If we mess this up, we could get trapped in a time loop."

"Great, a never-ending trip to the park," Yelena muttered, rolling her eyes but taking the threat seriously.

Y/n extended her hands, feeling the soft purple glow of her magic come to life. "Tommy, I need you to scout the area for any hidden traps while I analyze this one. Billy, help me stabilize the magic once we start disarming it."

Tommy sped around the fountain, checking for any additional dangers while Billy concentrated on channeling his magic. Y/n could feel the intricate layers of the spell, each one woven like a delicate thread.

"Alright, on three," Y/n said, her heart racing. "One... two... three!"

With a deep breath, she unleashed her magic, a brilliant wave of purple light washing over the fountain. The spell began to unravel before her, but just as she thought they had it under control, a torrent of water shot up, creating a swirling vortex.

"Peter!" Y/n shouted. "Catch it before it collapses!"

Peter swung into action, webbing the vortex as it threatened to spiral out of control. "I've got it!" he yelled, pulling it together with sheer willpower.

With a final burst of energy, Y/n focused and disarmed the trap. The vortex collapsed harmlessly into a pool of water. The team let out a collective sigh of relief.

"Nice work, Y/n!" Kate cheered, giving her a high-five.

But their moment of victory was short-lived. A familiar voice echoed through the park, smooth and mocking.

"Well done, little witch."

Y/n stiffened, recognizing the taunting tone. Loki materialized beside a tree, a smirk plastered across his face. "But tell me, do you really think you can outwit me? You're not your mothers, after all."

Her heart sank, his words digging into her insecurities. "I don't need to be them. I'm good enough on my own," Y/n replied, trying to keep her voice steady.

Loki laughed, a sound full of malice. "Are you? Because from where I'm standing, you seem like a child playing with powers far beyond your control."

Before Y/n could respond, Loki vanished in a flash of green light, leaving behind an echoing chuckle that sent chills down her spine.

The traps kept coming. The Young Avengers faced more magical challenges-each one more treacherous than the last. In Times Square, they encountered a portal that nearly sucked them into an alternate dimension, forcing Y/n to conjure protective shields. In the subway, they fought off enchanted creatures that sprang from the shadows, using their powers in concert to fend them off.

With every challenge, Y/n felt Loki's taunting presence hovering just out of reach. His words echoed in her mind, planting seeds of doubt about her abilities and her identity. "You'll never live up to them, little witch. You're nothing more than a shadow."

Despite the growing unease, Y/n continued to lead her team. They made a formidable force-Tommy's speed, Billy's magic, and Peter's quick thinking complemented her own abilities perfectly. Kate's archery skills and Yelena's combat expertise rounded out the team, allowing them to navigate through each obstacle.

The final trap awaited them in the heart of the city-a massive illusion that made the entire block feel like a maze of mirrors, with Loki's voice whispering from every direction.

"Give up, Y/n. You'll never beat me."

Y/n stood in the center of the maze, her team scattered around her. The reflections twisted and distorted, creating an overwhelming sense of confusion. Her heart raced, and the pressure of Loki's words pushed against her like a physical weight.

"I can't... I can't do this," Y/n whispered, her voice cracking.

But then, out of the corner of her eye, she saw her brothers. Tommy, with his usual enthusiasm, flashed her a thumbs-up. Billy stood tall, his blue eyes steady and reassuring. "You've got this, Y/n. Remember what you did before."

The encouragement reignited a spark within her. She looked at her friends, each of them counting on her. "No. I'm not giving up," she declared, her voice gaining strength. "We're in this together."

Y/n closed her eyes, focused on the warm energy swirling within her, and summoned every ounce of magic she could muster. A brilliant purple glow surged from her hands, illuminating the maze. The mirrors cracked and shattered one by one, and in the center of the destruction stood Loki, his smirk faltering.

"Clever girl," he muttered, surprise etched across his face.

With newfound confidence, Y/n stepped forward, determined. "I'm not just my mothers' daughter. I'm Y/n Maximoff-Harkness, and I've got my own magic."

Before Loki could respond, she raised her hands and formed a spell in the air. "This ends now!"

With a flash of purple light, Y/n trapped Loki in his own illusion. His laughter turned to frustration as he found himself ensnared, the reflection of his own tricks turned against him.

As the night came to an end, Y/n stood on the rooftop of the Avengers Tower, gazing out over the city lights that twinkled like stars against the dark sky. The adrenaline from the night's adventure still coursed through her veins, but she couldn't shake the nagging doubts that lingered from Loki's taunts.

She didn't notice Wanda and Agatha until they stepped into the shadows beside her, both watching her with pride.

"You did well tonight," Wanda said softly, her voice warm with approval.

Y/n turned to her mothers, surprised and touched. "You were watching?"

"Of course," Agatha replied, her tone light but firm. "We wanted to see how you handled yourself."

Y/n's heart swelled with a mix of pride and apprehension. "I... I didn't know if I was good enough."

"Good enough?" Wanda laughed, the sound filled with love. "You were brilliant. You took charge and protected your team. You didn't need us to prove how strong you are."

Agatha stepped forward, her expression serious yet kind. "You faced Loki's manipulation head-on and emerged stronger. That's more than any of us could have done at your age."

Y/n smiled, feeling the warmth of their love and support surround her. But still, the shadows of doubt lingered. "What if I'm not as powerful as you both? What if I can't live up to your legacies?"

Wanda wrapped her arm around Y/n's shoulders, pulling her into a warm embrace. "Sweetheart, it's not about living up to our legacies. It's about creating your own. You're finding your path, and it's unique to you."

"Exactly," Agatha added, her eyes glinting with pride. "You're Y/n, and you're learning to wield your magic in ways that suit you. It's not a competition."

As Y/n absorbed their words, she felt the weight of her insecurities begin to lift. "You really think so?"

"Absolutely," Wanda said, kissing Y/n's forehead. "Just remember that every step you take is a step towards becoming who you're meant to be."

With a newfound sense of determination, Y/n stood taller. "Thanks, Mom. Both of you."

As they watched the city from the rooftop, Y/n realized that while she had more to learn, she was on her way to becoming her own hero. And in that moment, surrounded by the love of her family, she felt more powerful than ever.

[scarlet--wiccan]

We know Wanda loves Teddy (and I imagine she’d feel similarly about David, but at this point it wouldn’t shock me if Tommy’s never introduced them), but how do you think Luna would feel about Monet (assuming the relationship lasts long enough to get to the “meeting the kids stage”) and Billy and Tommy feel/felt about Jericho (I’m sure that happened off panel)?

(I just realized Monet’s sisters are probably younger than Luna because they’ve never seemed to age despite definitely being older than her when they were introduced (and Monet might be their primary caregiver, since they seem to live on Krakoa), so if you have any thoughts on that meeting feel free to share).

Billy has been on page with Jericho a few times. They've definitely met, and even though Billy has never had the opportunity to be super-involved in the magical community like Wanda, my general impression is that he knows of and respects a lot of those people.

Billy and Wanda understand each other very intuitively, and Billy was also a Big Time Wanda Fan™ before they ever met. He would support Wanda being with anyone she likes and trusts, as she obviously does with Jericho, and I imagine that he really appreciates how good this relationship is for her. Tommy, on the other hand, is just very protective, and I think that "family" is a circle that he has a hard time letting people into. It takes time for him to warm up to anybody getting close to his mother or brother-- he's very similar to Pietro that way.

Monet meeting Luna for the first time would probably be really funny, and I hope we get to see it on page someday. Monet is not disingenuous, by any measure, but she is very intentional about her presentation and she has a lot going on beneath the surface. Luna is a precocious child whose superpower is, effectively, seeing through people. Her first impressions are always right, and she's not afraid to make cutting observations. Depending on what she sees and how she voices it, she and Monet will either butt heads, or get on like a house on fire. Personally, I think Monet would appreciate Luna's intelligence and honestly, and I feel like Luna might enjoy getting to spend time around someone from a more... aristocratic background, like her.

[spellsword177]

Revisiting My Predictions for the Second Half of Agatha All Along

After Episode five, I put together a list of predictions as to where I thought the season was going. Now it’s just a matter of seeing how wrong I was.

1. I still stand behind my earlier assessment that Billy Kaplan was influencing, but not controlling the first two trials even if he was subconsciously doing it.

Like many others, I noticed it was strange how Billy was always in the middle of these trials and how the color blue always seems prominent.  I don’t think anyone predicted the Witches’ Road was just a con hatched by Agatha to steal magic over two and half centuries.  I’m not surprised it was all subconsciously done.  He is a Maximoff after all. I do find it interesting how the last few photos in the End Credits changed.  The child wearing a mask now has lifted up revealing a young William Kaplan (at around six or seven) dressed a witch being kissed by his mother on past Halloween.  Likewise, the last two photos are Bill Maximoff/William Kaplan’s room showing him as the creator of the Witches’ Road.

2. Billy has more secrets that will unfold in the next episode as we explore his history as well as Agatha and Rio's. Part of this was wishful thinking over episode six which would have been two hours long in this theory.  We did learn Billy’s backstory and how much he really knew about himself and his abilities.  Agatha’s secrets were much worse as always.

3. Regardless of whether it's true or not, Agatha believes Billy killed Sharon Davis, aka Mrs. Hart (Mr. Shart).

Yes, but no.  She believed Billy created the road and contributed to Sharon’s death, but not that he really killed her.  The long lost “Mr. Shart” will aways be amusing to me.

4. Billy and/or Rio will pull the other members out of the mud to continue on to the Air trial to take place in a castle. No one is feeling like playing nice anymore. This was largely what most people were predicting.  Interesting that the group was never quite whole again after the fourth trial.  I think this was mostly due to Rio (aka Lady Death) no longer feeling the need to play along as she finally knew the truth about Billy and how he created the Road. It was refreshing seeing Jen turn over a new leaf thanks to Lilia's influence

5. Lilia will die in her fairytale themed trial stabbed in the gut by one of the hanging Swords of Damocles or killed by a member of the Salem Seven while saving the others. It wasn’t too hard to see how Lilia was unlikely to survive her trial, but I’m pleased what actually happened was better than my prediction.  Episode seven was easily the best episode from the entire miniseries even though I’m slightly more partial to episode eight as my favorite.

6. Rio will reveal herself to be an agent true antagonist of the miniseries during the green trial seeming killing the remaining members of the coven [Agatha after she drained and killed both Billy and Jen without gaining their powers].

In the end, Agatha only killed Alice.  I believe Rio was responsible for the design of the Earth trial as it was not quite as detailed or imaginative as the other trials Billy clearly created.  The idea of a type of limbo was stretching it.

7. We will see Alice again as she awakens on the other side of the veil and is soon joined by the others. Wishful thinking based on previously released footage.  We did see Alice, but only long enough for her to follow Death into the afterlife. I'm sad we didn't get to see more from Alice, but accept that the dead cannot be brought back in this series. 8. Agatha will remove [restore] Billy's last block that has been preventing him from achieving his true potential [magic] at the mental institution trial that will appear in the final episode. This is potentially the afterlife [or purgatory] as Jen also appears. This was a misinterpretation of the images we saw involving the last trial.  In the end, she did help Billy, but he did the work of finding Tommy in the either and placing him in the body of a drowning Thomas Shepherd.  It released him from the Witches’ Road and enabled him to finally become Wiccan. I'm glad Jen was also able to become unbound. Not surprising the work Agatha would put in if the price is right.

9. The last battle will be Agatha Harkness and Wiccan squaring off against Death and Mephisto. The other witches may join them. I largely wasn’t wrong about the final battle, but I clearly fell down the Mephisto hole so many have done before.  This series was always about Billy, Agatha, and Death.

10. Rio may be released from Mephisto's control along with the other members of the coven, and the witches leave the road by crawling out the earth just outside of Westview starting with Jen.

This was just plain reaching on my part.  Death was never evil, just unhealthily obsessed with the wrong woman.  Agatha hated following the rules and hated Death for not being able to break them. This made them incompatible in the long run. I look forward to rewatching this series in the future and seeing what else may unfold in the Adventures of Billy and Agatha, Ghostwitch.