#that he thinks he's agatha's son and is going to have to find out that he isn't

[bellatrixnightshade]

@multifandom-carnage 

Hi! This was originally for the gift exchange and while it isn't really Christmas anymore, I still wanted to give something.

This is incomplete and very much unedited. So I believe you may be the only person or one of the only people to ever see a whole lot of writing at my rawest. Even my experimental chapters were edited as usual. All the parts had a traditional holiday song in it that matched the theme or the vibe.

Secret Santa SGE Crackfic (Imcomplete)

Winter Wonderland–

Secret Santa shopping

Agatha sighed in annoyance as she walked inside the mall. She never should have participated. She wouldn’t have, if Tedros didn’t convince her. All she wanted was a peaceful holiday season spent with family. A Christmas with buttery turkey, hot chocolate, and sugary cookies, with nobody else to disturb her. 

But now, after sticking her hand in that stupid black hat, she was stuck having to find a gift for an arrogant, entitled, and spoiled man that acted more like a child at times. And with being married to Tedros, that was saying a lot.

She scanned the photocopied list of everyone’s top five interests, and to her dismay, the man she had to play Santa Claus to was one of the vaguest there was. 

Your Choice

Your Choice

Whatever you want

I don’t care

Whatever you have

Sophie’s list was cluttered with way more than five; Rufius’ simple but clear enough. Hester and Anadil openly declared they wouldn’t participate, and now Agatha saw it was with good reason. 

“I’m not the only one,” Agatha grumbled under her breath as she saw a completely despondent acquaintance of hers exit a store empty-handed.

Midas had her draw’s brother for himself. Unfortunately, Midas hated said brother and may or may not be a teensy bit resentful of Agatha’s draw. He and another one of her draw’s friends, or acquaintances, or frenemies– whatever he considered them as– were about to perform for him. Agatha had a feeling it was more on the teasing side than a genuine act of gift-giving. 

Agatha stepped aside from the crowds as she picked up her phone. It was Sophie calling, as usual.

“Hello?” Agatha snapped. “You know I’m pressed for time, trying to find something for that horrible man! Is this anything urgent?”

“Our party is tomorrow, Aggie, and Hort didn’t bring me the correct decorations! So, while you’re out, would you mind buying me some wreaths that have a better sense of festivity in them? Red is our dominant color, so some touches of berries would be lovely.”

“I am the last person to ask about this, Sophie, and you know it,” Agatha argued. “Can’t you find anyone else? Maybe Dot is willing to help, considering she and Rufius are doing so much already, aesthetically.”

“She’s making things like brownies, Agatha. Decorating cakes and a home are not the same things or skills. “

“Well, I can’t help you, because I’ll only end up getting something you don’t like. Besides, you have done much already, I don’t think the whole party will fall apart just because Hort made a couple of shopping mistakes. I’ve seen it and it looks perfect to me.”

“And this James man keeps playing that song on repeat!” Sophie whined, causing Agatha to flinch. “Not to mention, Aric will be there and Hester isn’t so happy about that, Japeth will infect the party with his presence, and Rhian and his sourpuss brother will attend as well. And I have Teddy as my draw for Secret Santa!”

“You aren’t the only one who has an unfortunate choice,” Agatha muttered. “What I can do is help out by buying some eggnog and some form of alcohol to go with that. For the game. By the way, you should remind people to either bring a sober driver with them to take them home or go in an Uber.”

“Pfft. I don’t think anyone will become intoxicated during the holidays! Let’s save that for a late night party at the club. Rhian– the father, not the son– says vodka should be there because his brother won’t drink anything else when it comes to alcohol. Which is silly because vodka seems a bit too strong for a stick-in-the-mud like Rafal.”

“He’s my person,” Agatha said. “Maybe I should buy him a bottle just so he can drink his assholery away. Maybe cirrhosis will make him more of one, though. You did get gifts for more than just Tedros, right? We have White Elephant and a regular gift exchange as well.”

“Aggie, why do you think I’m in need of financial assistance? I’ve obliterated my bank account for my generosity. Though, to be fair, most of the stuff I got were for my needs, and self-care is just as important as anyone else’s during the holidays. Rafal was one of the only people who couldn’t help me. He’s paying for Rhian’s credit card bill. But Rhian and I were on the same page. Such a pity his sons are loons! Though Rhian Jr. certainly inherited more of that charisma than his twin.”

“Yes, well, I have to get going,” Agatha said quickly, hanging up. She managed to buy several ugly sweaters, and even found one for cats. (Personally, they were cute rather than ugly.) She also purchased gift cards, chocolates, knick knacks and so forth. But it took her another couple of hours to finally find something for Rafal Mistral, and it wasn’t even in the same location.

As she fell asleep after she wrapped and bagged everything for the next day, she made a silent wish that everything would go well at the party. Things just did not seem right for her. So many people, with so many conflicts and differences, and so many pranks and jokes being planned did not sit right with her.

We Wish You a Merry Christmas and a Sappy New Year

At first,  things seemed to take a normal course. Guests were greeted with a joyful “Merry Christmas!” and were assaulted with smells of melted marshmallows, buttery turkey, and freshly baked cookies. The more artistic kinds were whisked off to decorate plain sugar cookies– Rafal surprisingly included in the mix. Agatha noted he liked making little designs of swans on the cookies and some other birds. There was one where he did a holly plant, but that was due to Rhian’s insistence. He gave most to his nephews and he seemed more invested in them than their own father, who appeared as if he forgot they existed every five seconds.

Hester and Anadil looked more fit for a Halloween party, wearing sweaters that had belladonna berries instead of hollies. Aric had anything but holiday cheer, and Tedros was trying way too hard to get along with everybody, annoying more than one person. The only person who seemed really engaged for more than fifteen minutes was James, who was interested in developing more muscle. 

Sophie did not follow the pajama theme, wearing heavy makeup, and a strapped black dress with a white fur coat. Her jewelry consisted of snowflake earrings and a candy cane choker. But then, the Mistral brothers were also not in theme.

“I have no reason to wear what I sleep in to a party,” Rafal hissed. “And no, Rhian, I am not dressing as Santa. May as well have Agatha be the Grinch.” This earned him a glare from Agatha. So much for spending money on him.

Hort knocked over some stockings that fell into the fire, earning screams and harsh reprimands from Sophie. 

“And I paid good money for those!” Tedros said with regret. 

“I helped,” Midas bit back. “I’m paying for half of these people’s debts.” He eyed Rhian. “He’s on his own, though. I don’t help creeps.”

“Hey! That’s not fair!” Rhian yelled. 

“I think it’s a fair judgment. Aren’t your children from a relationship with your employee–”

“On other matters,” Rufius broke in, “why don’t we begin our gift exchange?”

“Gifts are for babies,” Aric mocked. “Why don’t we get to the drinks?” He turned to Rhian Jr. and Kei. "Unless some people are too baby for it?”

“They aren’t twenty one yet–” Rafal started. Rhian interrupted him, obviously eager for the alcohol. “Oh, I’m sure a few shots of something won’t hurt them. They’ve had my Stella Rosa wine before, after all. Didn’t do a thing to them.”

“Yeah!” Aric shouted. “Even your dad thinks it’s a good idea. Unless you’re all a bunch of crybabies? Wanna meet me outside? I didn’t like that little trick with the mistletoe by the way. Having Japeth and I kiss. We never kiss. That stuff is for softies.”

“We didn’t plan that out,” Rhian the younger replied hastily. “I don’t like you around my brother, and I think Kei would have the same opinion. Maybe Japeth planned it himself, since he’s so obsessed with you!”

Japeth got up. “That’s not a fair assessment to make! I don’t even want to be in this stupid party with songs and cookies and mushy gushy nonsense! I wanted to be alone with my best friend. I didn’t need mistletoe for that or anyone here. Besides, stop hating on Aric, because he’s more loyal to me than you ever have been to me!”

“That’s enough,” Rafal said. “Nobody here under twenty one will drink any drop of alcohol and I hope I made myself clear.”

“Gift exchanges sound really lovely,” Agatha broke in. “Who knows? Maybe we all find something we really enjoy? Tedros, why on earth are you constantly moving in and out of that room?”

He only grinned at her. Sophie rolled her eyes. “I peeked at his gift for James and already, I am despairing of his taste…”

“You wanna fight?” Aric threatened Rafal. Rafal didn't seem to care much. “I won't have the police over, catching me beating up a kid. Didn't go so well when you were trying to battle Hester, I heard.”

“I have a better alternative,” Tedros broke in.”Something that may appeal to their competitive spirit. Why not have us represent them in two teams and they bet who wins? Maybe they can use Christmas cookies or brownies instead of money.”

“I'm not participating,” Hort muttered. “Have a feeling I may have to take someone home.” He looked towards Sophie.

“God, I hope she doesn't drink to her death,” Agatha said under her breath. “While we are still sober, can we exchange gifts? Secret Santa at least?”

“And we haven't even watched Christmas movies with hot chocolate,” Dot added mournfully.

“Or sing Christmas carols and give some of our food to the poor children in the neighborhood,” Rufius said.

“Fine,” Tedros snapped. “Have it your way. My gift to you, Agatha, comes last.”

“And Midas and I have our own little present for a friend,” James said with a smile, Midas eyeing him knowingly. Rafal looked their way, suspicious. Agatha swallowed. Hester burst out laughing. Watching some man be publicly humiliated was one bonus for them today.

“Can I keep the Baby Jesus?” Dot asked as she turned to her friends. “He seems so cute and sweet in his manger…”

“Why am I not surprised she would ask that,” Anadil hissed. “Since it's the holidays, we'll let you as long as you keep it far away from us.”

Agatha smiled until she felt a bag smack her arm. “Ow!” she hissed, rubbing her arm. “What was that for?”

“I got you,” Rafal answered crisply. “For that little gift exchange thing Rhian dragged me into. Believe me, you are the last person I wanted. But I couldn't exactly back out.”

Agatha removed the gift paper from the bag only to find a $30 Amazon gift card inside. He didn't even try.

“To think I spent more than this for you,” Agatha whispered, trying to keep her voice down. “I'm sure everyone else gets the same. Am I correct?”

“Except in White Elephant. My old deck of cards. Some suits were missing so they are useless to me. And you got me?”

“Yes.” She walked to a table, tipping over someone's glass of eggnog in the process and brought out a wooden case with a pile of sketchbooks.

“I thought that you enjoyed drawing as a hobby. There's many different things for art inside. It was costly but I wanted my gift to mean something– even if we didn't necessarily start out on the right note.”

“What a waste,” he responded dryly. Suddenly, music started playing in the background, with James loudly dedicating it to him. 

“Wham’s “Last Christmas”?” he hissed. “What on earth–”

“It’s supposed to match the way you’ve treated them,” Rufius said cheerfully. “Last Christamas, I gave you my heart, but the very next day, you gave it away…”

“Never pegged you as the heartbreaker type, but then again, it’s always the prudes,” Agatha whispered, grinning despite herself. “Merry Christmas, Rafal. Wish you luck for the game next!” 

“What game?”

“You’ll see.”

[aparticularbandit]

Also like - to talk about the brilliance of Jac's writing here.

Jac knew we, the viewers, who found casting calls and are up on our Marvel lore, would know Teen was Billy. Like - it was brought up in interviews, and they avoided it, but we KNEW he was Billy. We knew!

So Jac had the mammoth task of telling a story where she could Red Herring Teen into potentially being someone else enough that even though we knew he was Billy, we might also think he was Nicholas.

I've mentioned this before as masterful storytelling and interacting with fan expectations.

But Jac goes a step farther by having our main character, Agatha herself, going through this same problem. She doesn't know he's Billy, but she knows he can't be Nicholas, he can't be her son. But there's enough there for her to hope that he might be hers, only to be hit firmly with what she already knew.

Jac isn't just playing with fan expectations. She's using them to take fans on the same exact journey that Agatha herself is on.

And that is fantastic.

[rainintheevening]

They're his children of course. Richard still recognizes them; it's only been two years.

And yet...

Peter is a man. Still six months shy of his draft papers, but he stands, walks, sounds like a man. He always has a pocket knife, he tips his hat to all the females, he sings in a baritone that will only get deeper and richer. The tea he makes is decent, but sometimes he drinks coffee now. He talks about horses and crops and reads Augustine. He can drive a car. He gives orders, and expects them to be followed.

They all look to him, to Peter. Helen calls him to open a jar, Susan questions how her hair looks, Lucy runs to him in tears. As for Edmund, he and Peter are curiously joined, they turn to each other with their laughter, their thoughts, their books and newspapers and letters. As often as his family swirls around him, Richard sees them swirl around Peter, a habit, he knows, born of necessity, but that doesn't prevent it from being strange. Even painful.

Peter moves to take the head of table, catches himself. They both start to say grace, stop, glance at each other. Peter takes the newspaper over breakfast, and is a page in before he remembers. And every time he apologises. Each time he smiles at his father, and it is warm, glad, even benevolent.

One of the first nights, shortly after Christmas, Peter finds him sitting in his old armchair, staring into the fire, after everyone else has gone up to bed. "Dad?" comes the question, and he looks up blinking at the tall man, lamplight crowning him in gold, blue eyes deep and dark with knowledge and certainty.

"I'm not who I was," Richard says, a confession, the kind a father shouldn't burden his son with he thinks immediately, but then Peter is down on one knee, reaching for the mangled hand, tender with the three fingers as he clasps strong calloused palms around them.

"Neither am I, Dad. None of us are." Peter's gaze is earnest, bright. "But you are still my father. And I will always be your son. I am forever grateful for that."

It is as if a great burden rolls off of his shoulders, and he finds no shame in leaning on Peter's hand to rise.

When the holidays end, and the four go back to school, Peter says I love you to each of them at the station.

If Peter is a man now, Susan is a lady.

She sits straight, she walks gracefully, she can cook anything as well or better than her mother. She reads the newspapers with Peter, she scolds Lucy for coming home with twigs in her hair and a tear in her stocking and wet shoes.

She talks less than her father remembers, and there is a woman's sadness in her gazing out the window or into the fire. She is also very admiring of the boys in uniforms, and Richard requests her arm on the way out of church with a father's righteous sense of protection.

But she is also gentler than he recalls, she does not shy away from his injured hand, she takes care of him without making him feel as if he needs care. She sits on a cushion by his feet as she braids her hair in the evenings, leans on his knee as she reads aloud, and Richard thinks, Not my little princess, but a queen now.

At the train station, she kisses him goodbye, and he hugs her close, and there are tears in her eyes as she says I love you.

Edmund is the closest to unrecognizable, the once-obvious four year span between he and Peter seemingly halved. He greets his father wordlessly, all shining eyes and bright smile, and his face is so close to Richard's own it makes his heart break a little.

Ed is no more little boy, he is tall, slim, oddly graceful, but his handclasp is strong. He holds himself the same way Peter does, with squared shoulders and lifted head, but he wears that nobility in a quieter fashion. He's quick to see, quick to hear, quick with a wisecrack that makes Peter laugh out loud. He plays the violin now. He returns the family Bible to the living room with an apology for having kept it since the summer holidays. He reads Agatha Christie as a personal challenge, whispers to Susan in French, and his chess games with Peter are fierce battles of strategy that Richard cannot keep pace with.

In discussions of the war and its movements, he is sober and considerate, he meets each of Peter's moods with a balancing counter, he has a way of phrasing questions that pull out stories Richard had never planned to tell.

A few nights before the children return to school, Richard sits up in bed, certain he has heard a faint cry, and he slips away from his exhausted wife to check on his children, remembering how Edmund had suffered from night terrors as a child, imagining little Lucy inflicted with some dark dream.

But all he finds is shadows in the boys' room, and quiet whispers—Peter's apologies, Edmund's reassurance, and allusions to things Richard has no context for. He lingers by the door, an outsider in his home, until silence falls, and he returns with morning light to find them curled together in Peter's bed, Pete with an arm over Ed, and the father's love is bittersweet.

They have fought their own battle over here, on the home ground, Richard reminds himself. In their own way they have each faced terror and learned to conquer or be conquered, but perhaps he can meet them somewhere in between. Only time will tell.

On the train platform, Ed hugs his father tightly, gives him a smile, tells him to keep out of trouble.

Lucy is the least changed, though she too is taller and stronger, and her eyes are deeper. She still sings, still dances, still tries to make friends with all the animals, still smiles and speaks kind and stares dreaming at the Christmas tree.

She still gives fierce hugs, still climbs into her father's lap, though her head comes up higher on his chest, on his shoulder.

But then he finds gaps in his library, and Lucy returns the medical books with a winsome apology, she asks questions about his practices in the field, she winces but does not shy away from the blood and broken things he speaks of.

Then she recites long poems, words spinning off her tongue until they become half song; she dances swift and graceful, she and Peter laughing and stepping and clapping and spinning in intricate patterns to the swing song on the radio; and it is she who, breathless, quotes Byron: "On with the dance! Let joy be unconfined!"

Her comfort is both generous and thoughtful, and she strokes her father's hair with a motherly hand that makes his eyes sting, and he kisses her fingers, looks up at her to whisper, "Don't- don't grow up quite so fast, my darling."

When she hugs him on the platform, Susan waiting for her, the boys already gone, she doesn't want to let go, and there are tears on her cheek, that he wipes away gently. "Be careful, Daddy," she whispers. "Get strong. Take care of Mummy."

"Yes, little mother," he smiles back.

And then they are all gone, and he takes a cab home, weary of his still-recovering body.

He will have to learn his children all over again, he thinks. But he is proud of them still. That has not changed.

[covenofagatha]

Nicky's mom has got it going on (Part 4)

Word count: 3700

Warnings: pool sex, fingering, vibrating underwear, almost getting caught, think that's it

A/N: guys i finally wrote it omg the day has arrived

It’s been a week since the Halloween party, a week since your best friend’s mom fucked your brains out. 

You wish you could say that you regretted it, but that would be a lie. 

Yet every time you hang out with Nicky, you feel your heart squeeze. It would kill him if he found out, and you knew that you would never be able to tell him. 

But your thoughts still found their way back to the older woman, the way her fingers felt curling inside you, the way she tasted when she was riding your face. 

You weren’t sure when the next time you were going to see her was. School is picking up as you were going into Thanksgiving break soon, and you know Nicky is feeling the stress too. 

But the next Saturday, the weather is lovely and Nicky invites you over for a pool day at his house. It’s the first time the New Jersey winter has climbed into the 70s, and you’re both determined to make the most of it. 

And you’ll get to see Agatha again. 

The thought makes your stomach twist and turn, both with nerves and excitement. 

She had dragged you back upstairs after you made that quip about your lover being just ‘alright’ to Nicky and she had put you in your place. 

Three orgasms later, she had finally let you leave the room to go back downstairs to the party, but after all the guests left and her son had gone to bed, she came into the guest room so you could return the favor. 

The next morning, she was gone from the bed by the time you’d woken up and you couldn’t help but feel disappointed, even though you obviously knew she couldn’t stay. It was risky regardless, having sex with your best friend’s mom with him right down the hall, so there was no need to push it. 

And when you had gone downstairs, Nicky was already there, laughing at your disheveled state. Agatha had given you a heated glance, but that had been it. 

That was the last time you’d spoken to her. 

And now you’re going swimming at their house, where Agatha may or may not be there. 

You hope she will, but you do know that she might be working. 

Just in case, you put on one of your most flattering bikinis, a purple number that leaves little to the imagination. 

It’s a dangerous game to play, especially since Nicky will be there, but you miss the older woman. And you don’t really know where things stand with her, so you figure this will be a great way to find out. 

You throw a towel into a bag with some sunscreen and drive over to their house, your heart rate picking up as you get closer. 

Nicky opens the door. 

“Hey!” He exclaims. “Ready for the first pool day since summer?” 

You step into the house, eyes peeled for his mom. “You know it. It’s been too long. I’ve missed the sun.”

No sign of her. You try your best not to feel too down; you knew her working would be a possibility. But the fresh warm air on their back patio makes you temporarily forget about the older woman and you take a deep breath. 

Nicky disturbs your moment of peace by cannonballing into the pool, splashing you with water. You glare at him, pretending to be mad, before quickly stripping off your clothes and jumping in as well. 

The two of you play around for what seems like forever, and you’ve missed having this much fun with your best friend. With school and work, it seems like the two of you haven’t just hung out in a while, and this was a desperately needed break from all that stress. 

“Finally warm enough for a swim, hm?” You hear a voice ring out from the deck. You whirl around to see Agatha Harkness standing there, regal as ever. She makes your mouth run dry when her eyes shift to you, a brow raising ever slightly at the sight of you in the swim suit. 

“Wanna join?” Nicky asks and playfully flicks water at his mom. She gasps with mock outrage and then laughs. 

“Give me a second to go put on my suit. As long as y/n doesn’t mind if I hop in?” She turns her full attention to you, expectantly waiting for an answer, but your brain has short-circuited at the thought of her in a swimsuit. 

“Oh, yeah, no, that would be fine,” you stammer out and she smirks knowingly. When she goes back inside, Nicky douses your face with water. 

“Dude, what is going on between you and my mom?” He asks, and you choke, spiraling into a coughing fit. 

You’re still struggling to breathe, but you force out: “What do you mean?” Panic grips your heart and you’re so afraid of what he’s going to say next. 

“Like, you know, you’re always turning red around her and stuff. Oh my god, do you think she’s hot?” He whispers, eyes widening. 

“What?” You snap, protests locked and loaded on your tongue, but he just laughs. 

“You’re not the first person to think she’s a MILF. I don’t think she’s into girls though,” he says, fake sadness in his voice, and you almost choke again.

If only he knew. 

She sure seemed into girls when her fingers and tongue were buried in your cunt a week ago. 

“Yeah, you’re probably right,” you say hastily and duck underwater to hide your burning cheeks. 

When you resurface for air, Agatha is standing there on the deck wearing a one-piece black suit with a low cut revealing quite an eyeful of her magnificent cleavage. You have to clench your teeth together tightly when she gives you a wink before walking down the steps into the water. She lets out an exaggerated moan, surely just to mess with you, at the feel and you have to bite back a whimper at the sound. 

She gets all the way to the ground before she pauses. “Shoot, I was going to bring out some lemonade for everyone. Nicky, would you be a dear and go get it? Maybe some snacks too?” 

Nicky, ever the mama’s boy, obeys without hesitation. He jumps out of the pool, grabs his towel, and hurries into the house. 

Agatha immediately paces on you and you back up until your back hits the wall facing the door, feeling a spark in your stomach at the glint in her eye. 

“Hey,” she whispers when she’s a hair away from you and you can’t stop from looking down at her lips. 

Her hands come to grasp onto your bare waist and you gasp. “Hi,” you croak, your body already leaning into her touch that you’ve sorely missed this week. She pulls you by your hips into a kiss that you quickly pull away from (after giving in for a second or two, of course). “Nicky could come back at any minute,” you hiss and she just chuckles. 

“You didn’t seem too concerned with my son catching us the other night with how loud you were moaning my name,” she teases, dropping her head down to press her lips against the chlorinated skin on your neck. You shudder at the feeling and your head drops back slightly. 

The feeling in your belly stirs when she fits a thigh between your legs. “Agatha,” you whimper and slowly roll your hips against the firm muscle. Your hands come up to trace her biceps and she smirks. She presses harder and your lips part, but then she steps back and removes her leg. 

“Nicky could come back at any minute,” she throws your words back in your face and you groan. 

You chew on your lip and think about it. Pouring lemonade and getting snacks won’t take very long, so it would be better to be careful. 

But like she said, that hasn’t stopped either of you before. So you seductively turn around, rest your arms on the deck, and tilt your head over your shoulder while you sway your ass back and forth. 

She chuckles darkly and in an instant, her front is against your back and her hand dips down around your body to play with the edge of your bottoms. 

“Are you sure you want to play this game, sweetheart?” She asks, voice low in your ear, and you nod eagerly. Her fingers crawl inside your suit and she finds your clit immediately, rubbing small circles around it. 

Your head falls back against hers as you let out a small noise. You’ve missed her hands on you so much. 

She continues her administrations, dipping a finger down every so often to collect wetness from your pussy. Even in the water, she can feel how turned on you’ve become and her teeth graze your earlobe. She keeps drawing out small gasps from your mouth with her movements and she finally has enough of her teasing and slides her middle finger into you. 

“God, Agatha,” you groan, grinding your hips to get her deeper. 

She tuts. “What was that?” 

The words come tumbling out of your mouth. “Fuck, Mommy, please, I need more.” She gives a sound of approval and slides another finger in, curling them perfectly. 

She’s panting open-mouthed against your neck, fucking her two fingers into you so well, when all of a sudden, the sliding glass door opens. Agatha and you both freeze, and your heart pounds. 

“Hey, mom,” Nicky calls, walking out while reading the label on a box of crackers. Agatha gives you a quick thrust with her fingers and you bite your lip before you give yourselves away. “Do you think these are okay? The expiration date was–” He finally looks up to find his mom pressing his best friend against the pool wall. “–what are you guys doing?” 

You feel like you’re going to throw up. 

“Her swimsuit top was getting loose so I was just helping her tie it tighter,” Agatha says behind you, stroking your clit with her thumb, and you tense. You’re not sure you’ve breathed since Nicky walked out. Thankfully, from the way you’re angled and with how far away Nicky is standing, he can’t see Agatha’s hand down the front of your suit. 

He seems to buy it though. “So crackers or no crackers?” 

And you’re finally able to exhale. You can feel the tension literally seep out of your body. 

But Agatha shifts forward so think about it, which forces her fingers in deeper, and you clamp your teeth down so hard on your tongue that you taste blood. 

“You know, I’m getting hungrier, why don’t we make something–” But she cuts off in a gasp, because in the middle of her sentence, you clench your walls around her as payback. “For lunch?” She finishes weakly, but Nicky nods in agreement, none the wiser. “So we’ll get out and get dressed, yeah?” She asks you, and you catch her eye and give your hips a tiny roll. She gives you a warning look and the corners of your mouth tug into a smirk. 

It feels good to gain a bit of leverage over her sometimes.

“Okay, sounds good, I’ll be inside whenever you weirdos decide to come in,” Nicky says, having had enough of whatever you and his mom are doing. 

When the door finally closes, Agatha sinks her teeth into your shoulder and you moan loudly. “That’s for teasing,” she says and pulls her hand out of your cunt. You whine at the emptiness and turn around to face her, aching for release. 

“But–” you start and she splashes you gently to shut you up. 

“Maybe later. But we need to go in now before Nicky actually gets suspicious.” 

You grumble, but you know she has a point, so you begrudgingly get out of the pool, Agatha behind you, and you grab your towel to dry off. As you’re looking through your tote bag that you brought, you realize something. 

“Fuck, I forgot underwear,” you curse, mostly to yourself, but the older woman happens to be right next to you and hears it. 

You know she’s smirking before you even look at her. “You can borrow some of mine,” she says, all sickly sweet, and you just know she’s up to something. 

Once the two of you are sufficiently dry, you follow her back into the house and up the stairs to her bedroom. She had told Nicky that she was letting you borrow something and you figured it was going to just be a quick trip. 

Which is unfortunate for you, because you are still dripping. You can feel the mess between your thighs with each step and it’s becoming uncomfortable. 

But you’re good, and you just stand there awkwardly while Agatha roots around in her drawer, shoving aside a multitude of other pairs that you’re sure would work perfectly, until she pulls out a lacy black pair and holds them out to you. 

“Put these on,” she says, grinning wolfishly, and you hesitantly reach out and take them. Just to tease, or at least maybe level the playing field for whatever she has planned, you keep eye contact while you reach behind you and untie your top. 

Her jaw slackens when you finally peel the fabric from your breasts and you can see her hands twitch, like it’s painful for her to not just reach out and touch you. 

And then her lips part when you start to slide your bottoms down and you can feel her eyes burning into you. When they’re around your feet, you kick them at her and she catches them in one hand, staring at them like her brain just shut off. 

“Mom!” Nicky’s voice rings through the heated silence in the room and Agatha shakes out of her daze. 

She fluffs her hair with her hand and throws your suit back to you. “Get dressed and come back downstairs quickly,” she orders, stripping naked and throwing on a crewneck and sweatpants, slipping something you can’t discern from the underwear drawer quickly into her pocket, before you even have a chance to ogle. 

Agatha runs out of the room and you hear her footsteps on the stairs and you turn back to the underwear she gave you. It’s thick and you can tell it is some special pair, but you have no idea what it is. 

So you put on your jean shorts and your t-shirt, comb through your wet hair, and go back downstairs. 

Agatha is helping Nicky make grilled cheeses but they both turn around when they hear you enter the kitchen. 

“There you are,” Nicky comments, while his mom gives you a wink. 

You walk over to them and rest your hands on the counter, observing what they’re doing. “What can I do to help?” 

And that’s when you feel it: vibrations against your clit that have you gasping and doubling over in shock and at the intensity. 

Nicky rushes to your side and cries your name out, but when the rumbling suddenly stops and you’re able to lift your head, you see Agatha wearing a wicked smirk.

The underwear. 

That’s why she wanted you to put them on, so she could tease you right in front of her son without actually risking being caught touching you. The thing she put in h

Fuck. 

“Are you okay?” Nicky asks again, shaking your shoulders. You stand up, instinctively bracing yourself against the countertop just in case she tries to do it again. 

You shoot Agatha a look before answering. “Yeah, sorry, just cramps,” you lie. To his credit, he doesn’t seem to be grossed out, he just helps you over to sit down on the couch. 

“Why don’t you just rest then and let us take care of the food?” He offers sweetly and you give him a smile. 

If only his mother was as nice as him. 

The second Nicky walks away, the vibrations start again and you have to bite down on your finger to keep from moaning. You can feel Agatha’s eyes on you as you start to sweat from how good it feels and your face is burning. 

In typical Agatha fashion, she teases you while she and Nicky finish making lunch by turning it up and then down or making it pulse against your clit. You can feel just how absolutely soaked you are and you squirm back and forth on the couch, silently begging for more. 

“Do you want anything besides the sandwich?” Nicky asks you and you open your mouth to respond but have to instantly snap it shut when Agatha turns it up even more. 

You take a deep breath and try to ignore the buzzing against the most sensitive part of your body. “I’m okay, thanks.” Your voice trembles from the effort of staying composed and you can see Agatha’s shoulders shaking with contained laughter. 

Nicky brings over two plates and sets one down in front of you. He sits in the chair adjacent to the couch while Agatha plops down next to you. 

“You doing okay, hon?” She asks, reaching over to pat your leg and her touch makes you clench around nothing. You dig your fingernails into your palms to stop yourself from grabbing her hand and shoving it down your shorts. 

The teasing is maddening. 

“Yeah, good,” you rasp, glaring at her while simultaneously pleading with your eyes to be let out of your misery. 

It’s like she knows exactly when you’re about to cum because she either stops the vibrations entirely or slows them down to where you can barely feel anything at all. 

You try to focus on eating the grilled cheese, but you can’t stop your hips from undulating, no matter how hard you try. It gets so bad that Agatha throws a blanket over you, muttering something about how cold you look so Nicky doesn’t question it. 

With the extra privacy, you’re free to shift your weight more to angle the vibrations better against your clit. You can feel the rumbles throughout your entire pussy and you can feel your mind slowly losing the ability to think. 

You set down your plate, maybe three bites taken out of the food, and toss the other half of the blanket over Agatha’s legs. Thankfully, Nicky is flipping through the TV channels so he doesn’t notice. 

Agatha watches your face carefully when your hand digs into her thigh through her pants as she turns up the intensity, watching every little twitch of your eyebrows as you try to keep it together. 

And then, she suddenly reaches over under the blanket to cup your pussy and press the crotch of the panties against you hard, and a moan tears its way out of your throat. You have to fake a cough to cover it up, but luckily Nicky doesn’t look over. 

Her hand is gone as soon as it appeared and you’re left rhythmlessly stuttering your hips, frantically chasing the high you so desperately need. 

But it doesn’t come. 

Agatha keeps you on edge for almost twenty minutes, turning it up and down and off completely and then back on, and you’re practically panting into the blanket because you can’t breathe too loudly. 

It’s the sweetest torture one could bear. 

And then finally, finally, Nicky stands up and announces that he has to go to the bathroom. 

The moment he leaves the room, you literally throw yourself into Agatha’s lap, straddling her waist and grinding against her, each movement against her stomach pressing the toy in the underwear harder to your clit. 

“Agatha, Mommy, please,” you gasp against her lips and her fingers make their way down into your shorts. Instead of dipping into the underwear though, they go in-between them and your jeans so she can directly position the piece right where she wants it.

Her other finger fumbles with something in her pocket, the remote, you’re guessing, and you sink your teeth into her neck before the high-pitched whine can escape at the heightened intensity. 

“Better hurry up,” she taunts and you buck your hips at her tone. “You don’t want my son coming back in to find you cumming all over his mommy, do you?” 

You shake your head at the rhetorical question and focus on how the vibrations feel against you. You can feel them throughout your whole body and you’re getting so close. 

“Please, please, I need more,” you beg, having been kept on the edge for so long that you don’t think you can cum from just this. 

But Agatha always knows what you need, even after only spending one night with you. 

She pushes the underwear to the side to slide three fingers into you easily, curves them just right, and that coupled with the vibration still against your clit makes you explode. 

You bite her again to muffle your cries while you grind, dragging your orgasm out as much as you can. 

And then the toilet flushes and you hear the sink running. By the time it turns off, you’ve wiped your sweaty forehead and are sitting back in your normal spot, readjusting the blanket. 

Nicky walks back in just as Agatha pops her fingers into her mouth, sucking the taste of you off. Your body clenches weakly at the sight of that and of course she sees it and smirks. 

“Everything okay in here? Thought I heard something,” Nicky asks. You keep your eyes peeled on the TV even though you can see Agatha’s smile out of the corner of your eye. 

“Just the show,” she says casually and Nicky accepts it, settling back down in the chair. 

Agatha leans closer and chuckles quietly into your ear. “Next time, you need to make less noise.” 

And it’s impossible to miss the way your body shivers at the promise of a next time. 

[thewitchandtheassassin]

Life, Death, and the Space in Between Part Three (Agatha Harkness x Reader x Rio Vidal)

Summary: The Road is wild and wicked.

Words: 2277

Warnings: Arguments, talks of death, canon death, language?

A/N: Anything I have to fix, I'll go back and fix later. I am too in love with these characters. You're welcome.

-X-

Cradling the boy’s head in her lap, Agatha stared at Rio with watery eyes, a recreation of a moment long since passed. “Don’t. Don’t.”

Shrugging casually, your lover peered over the body of the dying Teen, watching thoughtfully as Jen began to attempt to heal him.

You weren’t entirely interested in watching a teenager drift from the mortal plane but something caught your eye and you inched closer, oblivious to Agatha’s noise of warning. One of the gifts you had procured when becoming the goddess of life was the ability to see lifelines. To examine and determine the strands of someone’s very essence. If they were meant to die, or beyond saving outside of celestial intervention, the strands would grow black and shrivel while a healthy lifeline was pure white and strong.

His was -

“What do you see?” Rio breathed, mouth close to your ear as you both stared at Teen.

Unlike Life, Death could not see a lifeline. She relied on Life for such things. She could see souls - spirits, essences; able to reach out and pluck them from their temporary vessels when their time had come. But she could only ever take what was hers to claim; what the cosmos were owed.

“His lifeline is broken.”

She inhaled sharply, gaze shooting up to your profile. “What do you mean?” she demanded.

Turning, you walked away from the group, using the dense forest to shade you from view. Taking a deep breath, you pressed the tips of your fingers together before stretching them apart. Where there should be a plain white cord, frail but solid as Jenn healed Teen, there was instead a cord that was black and blistered in the center. Stretching it further, you could see the beginning of his lifeline up until now.

Rio’s eyes were trained on the white cord. “What…”

“That boy died. Should be dead. That is something more than his heart stopping and then being revived. Otherwise it would’ve healed over. I don’t-” you cut yourself off, staring blankly at the lifeline. “This isn’t natural. Whatever that boy is, he’s-”

“An abomination,” Death’s raspy voice rang out and you glanced at the woman, unsurprised to see skull and bone staring back at you. She shook her head, the visage returning. “He goes against every order of nature. The fact he has escaped his reaping is a slight, and must be corrected.”

“Do you think Agatha knows?” you murmured, watching the coven shift his limp body to a more comfortable space, building a makeshift nest for him. “That there’s something wrong with him.”

“If she’s not certain, she has to suspect,” Rio replied, expression grave. “But she’s using him as a way to handle her grief. Replacing our son with this teenager who shouldn’t exist.”

Studying the white cord, your brows furrowed. Sparks of blue and red flared from it, more red towards the beginning before shifting into mostly blue sparks, something that was completely out of place and unexpected. “Do you see this?”

Reaching out, Rio’s fingers glided off the cord, completely devoid of emotion. “That fucking red witch. He is the reason the Road is real. The son of the Scarlet Witch and their weird reality bending bullshit powers. After the collapse of the Hex, I felt pulled there but I never found what I was searching for. It must’ve been his soul finding a home before I could find him.”

Letting the cord fizzle out in your hands, you pressed your forehead against Rio’s. Her cool breath fanned across your lips, dark eyes nearly black beneath the weight of knowledge and pain.

“I have to take him,” she whispered brokenly. “I have to take another child from her.”

“We should wait. See what becomes of this road.” Your lips brushed over hers, feather light and gentle.

There was sadness filling the space between you, of understanding what must be and what would happen after.

-X-

Sitting around a campfire discussing scars wasn’t exactly your idea of a fun evening but leaning against Rio’s side and watching the fire crackle softened your disdain. These witches weren’t terrible; in fact, you quite liked them all. Lilia was the epitome of a divination witch, her odd outbursts and strange mumblings charming. Alice, a protector who had her whole life ahead of her. Jen, searching for something stolen but making the best of it, even if she was scamming mortals. It would’ve been a shame for them to have died under Agatha’s magic, though you hated how powerless she still was.

Especially on such a dangerous road.

The moment Agatha settled somewhat close to you, all you wanted to do was drink in the warmth of being so close to her again. She told about a knitting needle scar, but you knew the truth. The scar along her elbow was from Nicholas. Or, rather, from the unfortunate pet your young son had managed to charm into coming home with him. That raccoon had taken one look at Agatha and screeched at the top of its lungs. His claws had nicked her elbow as he rushed away, but if she wanted to lie, who were you to judge?

“I have a scar,” Rio piped up, earning identical looks from you and Agatha. Your brow was furrowed, knowing you’d traced every inch of that body with fingers and tongue, but remembering no visible scars.

“No, you don’t,” she argued, and a wave of guilt passed through your bond.

Reaching out, you gripped Rio’s hand as she bowed her head. Her scar was internal. A never-closing wound that just never properly came back together because the thread had been hidden away from sight and nothing else could suture it closed. The kind that itched and burned for all eternity, constantly reminding her of the worst moments of her existence.

Slapping her thighs, Agatha escaped the conversation as soon as Rio finished speaking, skulking off into the forest to catch her breath. You were up and chasing after her seconds later, the green witch hot on your heels. Her back was to you, barely concealed sniffles audible in the silence of The Road.

“Agatha,” you whispered, her back easily meeting your front as you stopped behind her. Your arm encircled her waist, holding her close for the first time in centuries. It was like coming home all over again.

Rio settled in front of her, a cool hand on flushed skin. Her thumb trailed below Agatha’s eye, wiping away the fresh tear.

“That boy –”

Agatha’s face dipped close to Rio’s, breath fanning across it as she inched closer to her mouth. You could see the green witch’s mouth move, telling herself it wasn’t time, and you finished her heartbreaking confirmation.

“He’s not ours,” you whispered regretfully, feeling how Agatha tensed in your embrace.

The energy shift was subtle before Agatha yanked herself from your arms, putting substantial distance between you. She was hugging herself, as if trying to keep herself from crumbling into dust. Holding together the broken slivers of her heart.

“You don’t think I know that?” she hissed furiously, tears clinging to long lashes. “I know my little boy is long gone. Because you let him die.”

Stumbling back as if struck, you glared at Agatha with a fury you didn’t know you possessed. “I didn’t let him die! I kept him alive for years! While that sickness ravaged his body, I was the one pouring magic into Nicky to keep him breathing! You have no idea how many nights he almost left this world, but I broke every rule to sustain him longer. Don’t you dare say I let him die!”

A cool hand touched your shoulder, fingers digging deep into the flesh as Rio’s dark eyes bore into you but you could only see the gaping Agatha in that moment.

“How fucking dare you accuse me of not doing everything I could to keep Nicky here? You were not the only one who loved him. Who still loves him.” You stormed closer to the shivering witch, barely cognizant of the other witches and an unsteady Teen peering around the trees to watch the show.

“And yet he still died,” she spat bitterly, glancing down at your balled fist. “What? Did I strike a nerve? The all-powerful Life still bowing to Death?”

White magic flared around you, illuminating the otherwise darkened forest. There were noises of surprise at the sudden lightshow but you didn’t care.

“Fuck you, Agatha Harkness,” you hissed. “If it doesn’t fit your idea of how things should’ve gone, you refuse to see the truth. I have spent centuries excusing your behavior but all you will ever see is what you want. We’re the villains because you didn’t have the power to save him either!”

The sharp gasp beside you echoed through the pounding in your mind, clearing the red fog clouding your vision.

“You know, the Darkhold told me something about you,” Agatha said coldly, staring deep into your eyes. “You can visit the afterlife. That you can take people there too. Yet you never offered to let me see him again.”

“That’s not how it works.”

“Bullshit! You can walk the line of life and death, and you could have told me. Could have… taken me to him,” she whispered, trembling with grief, thinking about having her little boy tucked into her arms once more.

Rio stepped closer, her hand sliding down to tangle your fingers together, both to soothe your fury and to stop it from becoming something darker. “That book lies, Agatha, and you know it. It shows you what you want to see. You want to see Nicky. So it gave you an answer in hopes of keeping you.”

From the corner of your eye, you saw blue flaring with twitching fingertips. You watched a familiar purple match the dancing blue across the tips of Agatha’s digits and your eyes widened fractionally.

“I cannot bring the living to the afterlife. Anyone who walks into that plane can never leave. It’s the way of the cosmos.” Your voice was tinged in desperation, begging the woman you loved to just… listen. “There’s a price all must pay who enter.”

There was a lull and for a moment, you hoped maybe she was seeing reason, before Agatha lunged at you. Her hand slammed into your chest, purple erupting around you and swallowing your vision. Purple and Agatha and furious, begging eyes.

All you could hear was Rio’s furious, panicked roar, “No!” ringing in your ears before there was…

Nothing.

Then you were falling.

And falling fast.

-X-

Being yanked from one dimension into another plane of existence was jarring. It didn’t happen often, unless you were in a different place than Rio and the universe called you home, but you imagined it was like being tossed headfirst into a blender that was on high.

As your back slammed into solid ground, you groaned low in your throat before slowly looking up at the sky. Or, what should’ve been the sky, except it was replaced with a beautiful, never-ending starlit void. There was no sun here, no moon, but you could see for miles and miles, never needing another light source.

“Oh no.”

Agatha’s limp form was a few feet away from you, but your spirit felt heavy. Neither of you were meant to be here and while you could pass somewhat freely without the imposing threat of danger, the same couldn’t be said for your witch.

“Agatha, get up,” you called out, carefully forcing yourself to an upright position. The astral body was similar but different from the mortal vessel you carried. Here, there was little imperfection, and you were simply the embodiment of Life. As meant to be.

However, Agatha’s had remained perfectly… Agatha.

It was like wading through waist high water to get to her. Hands pulsing white, you touched her shoulder and she jolted up with a gasp. You weren’t sure what such a journey had done to a mortal, but she seemed somewhat coherent – which you supposed was good.

“W-what? Where are we?” she demanded, peering around at the odd scenery of the afterlife as she stood.

“We have to go,” you replied sharply, glowing hand reaching out to grab her wrist but she jerked away, deftly dodging your grip.

“Is this the afterlife? Is he here?” She didn’t wait for your answer before cupping her hands to her mouth. “Nicky! Nicky! Are you here? It’s okay! It’s Mama!”

Waves of pain wracked through your spirit and you watched darkness creeping closer to the foreign entity.

No, no, no. It’s not her time. This isn’t…

Agatha continued screaming, her voice echoing throughout the plane until a long-missed voice called back from the distance, disbelief evident.

“Mama?”

Agatha bolted towards the voice and you watched tendrils of the afterlife chase after her, drawn to the soul still within her body.

Steeling yourself for what was to come; white light seeped from your fingers and filled the space around you, encouraging the darkness towards yourself instead. The sting was immediate and intense as darkness slipped into your body like blades, but you swallowed down the scream.

You promised to protect her.

And so you would.

-X-

Back on the Road, Rio cried out as a hand flew to her chest, the bond between you burning like a fire let loose to rage. Her long quiet heart thumped painfully, following the slowing beats of your own in perfect tandem. Her other hand was cupping your clammy cheek, wiping the sweat and tears falling down your cheeks.

“Oh, my love… what have you done?”

[mind-intheclouds342]

A new ladder - Reader x Curly

Previous - Part 4 - Next

"I really hope Lin doesn't come to check on you, she'll kill me."

You said, sighing and gently applying cream to Curly's face, neck, and collarbone, as it was red from sun exposure after you had fallen asleep in the meadow until a light drizzle woke you up to return to the house. 

Curly: "I don't think so... She'll understand."

"Pfft, yeah right, I'm going to be horribly scolded by her if she finds out, she was always strict with me." 

Curly: "It seems like we're not talking about the same person."

"Of course we don't, you talk about the one who was your fiancée, I talk about my older sister."

Those words lingered in his mind, unwilling to understand that the woman he had met could be so different with him than with her own family. 

Curly: "...How have she been?"

"Mm... She has two children, Mike and Agatha, aged 20 and 15, they are good kids, she is married to Jake, he isn't home much because of his job, but he earns well, they all seem to be happy. Mike left home at 15 anyway, but he keep in contact" 

It certainly hit him hard to know the age of the eldest son, thinking there was an extraordinary chance.

Curly: "Let's say... Mike, how does it look?"

It piqued your curiosity when he asked that, until you put the pieces together. 

"Mike isn't yours, don't worry, he's an exact copy of Jake, even with the same allergies. Trust me"

Curly: "Then I should have been in cryostasis a bit longer... Isn't that right?"

"Didn't those capsules only last 20 years? They found you before the energy ran out."

Curly: "Maybe there was a miscalculation-"

"Lin said you had 2 months left in that capsule, if they found you later you would be dead." 

Curly: "Maybe someone-!"

You were startled when he suddenly approached you, you could see the nerves and desperation in his eye, along with his agitated breathing.

Curly: "If the boy is 20... That means she..."

"...I'm very sorry that... The person you thought you knew wasn't really as perfect as you thought..." 

You shrugged, looking at the ground, not knowing how to console him upon learning that his fiancée, while he was doing his delivery job, had been cheating on him with someone else, with whom she later married after he didn't return. 

In that instant, Curly realized something: all the effort, everything he had achieved, the ladder that had cost him so much to climb to the top, simply crumbled in a second.

You heard him start to laugh, or maybe sob, it was a strange mix of sounds he was producing. 

Curly: "I have nothing left... I can start over-"

"Okay, you're scaring me— I don't know if you're happy or sad—" 

Curly: "I don't know either!" he said, letting out a laugh. 

"I'll go get your pills and water." 

You got up from your seat to go get that, but you stopped when you heard someone knock on the door. 

You sighed, running your hand over your face. 

"It's like she have an alarm and it knows when I do something..." 

You knew very well that he was waiting behind the door, so you went to open it trying to put on your best face. 

Mike: "Hey, aunty" 

What a surprise you got when you saw your nephew with his mother; the boy took a step forward to give you a hug, which you reciprocated. 

"What are you doing here?"

Mike: "Mom told me you were back in town, so I came to see you, can I come in?"

Linda: "Come on, remember there's someone else here, I have to talk to (Y/n)"

The boy rolled his eyes without looking at his mother, as if to say "I didn't ask you" while he walked into the house. 

Linda: "I hope you're not doing the same thing Dad used to do and giving him his pills with chocolate."

You crossed your arms, looking at her in silence, you weren't going to admit that you almost did it once, but then you retracted and you gave him all his medications with a glass of water and maybe a candy if it felt too bitter in his mouth. 

Linda: "Of course," she ran her hand over her face, "You love giving people placebos, you always do the same thing."

"Just so you know, that's how your children learned to swallow pills without fear." 

Linda: "Don't you think what you're doing is horrible? The medications are wasted in your hands."

"I'm not stupid! I haven't done that in years! Stop treating me like a child!"

Linda: "Stop acting like one then!" 

She took you by the arm to pull you outside so you could continue arguing, closing the door so nothing could be heard from inside. 

Curly: "...I had never heard her scream..."

He mentioned sitting in the dining room with the boy in front of him. 

Mike: "That's how she is, she has a nice personality with people outside, but when it comes to family, she scolds you a lot." 

They both stared at each other for a moment, until the boy rested his face in his hand, smiling at him.

Mike: "So you are the famous Curly, it's a pleasure to meet you." 

Curly: "You must be Mike"

Mike: "The same, my mom used to tell me about you, saying that I was your son, that was a great story until I started having suspicions, and at 15 I found out I was the biological son of the man she is married to."

Curly: "Why would she lie about something like that?"

Mike: "Why? So they don't think she was slut, that she got married because she got pregnant, she lied to everyone saying it was your baby, and they believed her. When I was born and you didn't come back, then she could do and say whatever she wanted." 

The man fell silent, thinking about what kind of person he was going to marry, and how he couldn't see through her and notice her deceit. 

Curly: "I was... Used to seeing the image in general..." 

Mike: "At least you got saved, and I'm glad my aunt is taking care of you, she's great, right?" 

Curly: "She is... extravagant, to say the least." 

Both were startled when they heard the door slam open.

Linda: "Mike! We should leave now, darling." 

"Get out of here already! Don't even think about coming back!"

The difference in voices was very striking, one so calm and the other so agitated.

The boy said goodbye to Curly by waving his hand side to side and got up to leave with his mother, despite not liking the idea. 

Once again, the door slammed shut, and a muffled scream was heard; you had taken a pillow from the couch to scream into it and not make too much noise. 

Curly sat there, not knowing what to do or say about it, until he heard footsteps approaching the kitchen, leaving a glass of water and the pills for that schedule. 

You were standing next to him, your head turned in another direction, wanting to leave but knowing he couldn't take the pills on his own. 

You sighed, taking a seat and helping him take the pills. Then he could see it, the red mark on your cheek. 

"You just need to continue with some medications for a couple more months and then you won't have to keep taking all these horrible things." 

Curly: "When I am self-sufficient... What will happen?"

"I guess I'll leave," you shrugged. 

Curly; "Oh"

It was the only thing he said, he wanted to say many more things but, he couldn't, so he just decided to accept the solitary fate that sheltered him. 

[rootspiral]

Agatha All Along deep dive: episode 9 part 6

(Wandavision entries: [1][2][3])

(AAA entries: ep1 [1][2][3][4] ep2 [1][2][3][4] ep3 [1][2][3] ep4 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][+1] ep5 [1][2][3][4][5] ep6 [1][2][3] ep7 [1][2][3][4][5][6] ep8 [1][2][3][4][5][6][7][8][9] ep9 [1][2][3][4][5][6])

billy drives to westview again, I guess flying right now feels weird while he's so conflicted about his own witchy nature. and who boarded up agatha's door? were the neighbors afraid some other unspeakable horror was going to jump out of the house?

we get another good view of agatha's grave, with all the purple flowers and mushrooms rio grew for her

agnes' bike and señor scratchy's cage (I hope that fluffer bunny's okay somewhere)

NOT HELPING, AGATHA. did she just run down to the basement so she could do her 'it's britney bitch' face? (she does look like britney here)

sure, sure, you'll get your brooch back and then you'll be on your merry way doing ghostly shit with no regrets whatsoever. it's not like you've been following billy around like a lost puppy or anything

agatha sees billy drawing the circle and is all posture again, a big slice of "I'm cooler than you and you don't scare me little kid" with a side of "ooooh are we doing magic?? I love magic lemme see lemme see!"

she's truly embarrassing

you're the one with a buttload of black candles in your basement agatha who do you think you're mocking

a pentacle, the symbol of our coven surrounding him. wherever you are, a coven there shall be.

oooh book through the heart! we get it, symbolism.

agatha sees the brooch and gives a deep relieved sigh, immediately followed by more bullshit. JUST TELL HIM THAT'S YOUR SON'S BROOCH AND IT'S IMPORTANT, YOU USELESS DISASTER. JUST OPEN UP FOR ONCE.

the spell is vade (not valia) a lucem, relinque terram, noli esse phantasma. go to the light, leave the earth, don't be a ghost (bit on the nose.)

what's wrong agatha, not feeling so confident all of a sudden?

you know the drill by now, she won't go quietly. so she sneers.

ooh we're appealing to his better nature now? after your many 'never apologize for murder' lessons?

idk man, it's almost as if the people you keep pushing away will eventually get tired of your bullshit. it's almost as if billy here, the kid you supposedly care a lot about, just went through a terrible experience and could really need a wise mentor right now - instead of whatever you're doing.

and now we're begging. better make a decision there agatha, you're starting to fade away!

sure, that will help. great plan agatha, masterful gambit, turning into a ghost and losing even more of your agency

there you go. it only took this poor wretch nine episodes, killing three people, scaring away forever the love of her life, thoroughly traumatizing a kid and somehow losing her entire body to express ONE honest, uncensored feeling.

it's the little steps.

heartwarming: local 350 year old experiences for the first time the mortifying ordeal of being known.

another thing billy and agatha have in common is how good they are at reading people. with billy it's a natural talent (comes with being a mind reader) that he's still learning how to use, he can read people but doesn't know how to interpret what he finds yet, hence the whole trials fiasco.

with agatha, he's been trying to reconcile his instincts with facts and logic. on a surface level he shouldn't trust agatha at all, indeed she's the last person anyone should trust. but since he was that kid who liked hanging out at agnes' house, billy guessed something else in agatha, a vulnerability behind all the darkness that he's been (awkwardly) trying to bring to the surface.

why? I think it's for the same reason agatha has been reaching out to him: because they're so similar. billy wants to reconcile agatha's two natures because he wants to do the same for himself. he is the son of the witch who tortured westview, he has all this scary power. there is a darkness in him that he doesn't know how to deal with, but maybe, if agatha is redeemed, there is hope for himself too.

in other words, these two are kindred spirits (spiritual mother/son, mentor/mentee, whatever you want to call it) who recognize each other and instinctively want to stick to together, even though it's a bad, bad idea.

(I cannot believe it took agatha turning into a ghost to finally get a manicure for her nasty witchy nails)

and this is all it took to win billy over, that's how ready and eager he was to believe agatha has a heart! the moment he realizes that of course agatha loved nicholas! of course she's devastated after losing him! he steps back and dries a tear, moved. for the first time he sees agatha's pain and, the good kid he is, he's earnest to give her sympathy and comfort. he's still too young to fully understand what agatha has been trough, but he doesn't need to. he just needs to care and be there for her, and that's enough, that makes all the difference.

the salemites taught agatha that she cannot trust others, that if she shows who she really is people will hate her and hurt her. when nicky died she tried all she could to exorcise that devastating pain, except asking for help. she never allowed someone to give her even the most basic forms of comfort, no hugs, no crying on someone's shoulder, no 'I'm sorry this happened to you'. no 'I'm here for you, if you need anything'. no 'I know it feels like that, but I promise it wasn't your fault.'

agatha set out to mold and raise billy as another version of herself, but what she got instead is a kid who, just like nicky, is simply glad to love her back. yes, people will leave you if you keep pushing them away, but the opposite is also true: if you stick by and make an effort, no matter how many mistakes you make, most people will recognize what you're doing and respond in kind. it sucks that agatha can do that so rarely and with so much difficulty. but it happens sometimes, even to her.

I've talked about how a "coven two" is never sustainable on the long run, how you cannot just have one person be your whole world. humans, social animals we are, simply need a community. but for now it's a start, it's agatha cautiously letting herself be around another person again. and oh god she's going to be such a bad influence on this poor kid. I'm glad *he* has other people in his life, at least.

she's like, faIR WArNiNG

ookay drama llama. these two gays, I swear. already trying to outdrama each other.

she's all proud!! look at her boy paying homage to the dead and expressing his grief like a champ! meanwhile I'm sitting here like guys, guys, you cannot just write their names on the floor and call it a day, have you CHECKED if you have to break the news to their loved ones?! did sharon have children? did alice have friends or a partner that are looking for her right now?!?!!?!?! please make ONE phone call I beg you! is there an ADULTIER ADULT in the room, you CANNOT LEAVE THESE TWO IN CHARGE

and off they go, merrily causing chaos and mayhem. if I had to guess what happens next, agatha is going to love and help and teach that kid while making soooo many mistakes and causing soooo much emotional damage, and also very much try to manipulate him into giving her a new body, because lbr, this asshole didn't get herself close to the one person on earth who can do that by pure accident. all immaturity and ulterior motives aside, agatha is taking baby steps in the right direction and I'm SEATED for it.

AND WE'RE DONE. I cannot believe I got to the end of this?!!?! thank you from the bottom of my black heart to all the peeps who reached out and encouraged me, thank you for all your likes and reblogs and engagement, and special thanks to @idkbroletssee, @yodladi-yodlada, @aquaaquila, @onceuponalegendbg, @vinspiration-book, @sallysetonagathario, @2-the-moon-and-2-saturn, @yourlocalegotisticalqueerishere, @isagrimorie, @jojobobapalooza, @netellie, @nutella-icecream, @talysalankil, @ragnarockz, @misschanandlerbong25, @westviews-nosiest, @liminal-smith, @kendrysaneela, @whogirl42, @witchtwig, @nerdybeachbum299, @bogcrowe, @the-silence-in-between, @farminglesbian, @lazyreinelle @fantasticvoidnerdshoe, @ofutopia, I'm sure I'm forgetting many but I promise I see you all!

Last but not least, big, grateful thanks to @crybabyheathen for always messaging me and forcing me out of my shell and encouraging much needed human interaction 😉. And lots of love to @april-december, don't tell anyone but I look forward to your comments the most, it truly means the world that you appreciate and engage with my posts like you've been doing.

Happy new year, everybody!

[randomshyperson]

Shameless - Milf!Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: The book club forces Wanda to go to a bookstore in downtown Westview, where she meets you. Or the one where Wanda tries a new hobby and finds a reason to end her marriage.

Warnings: (+16), some dirty implications but nothing explicit, mentions of make-out, no cheating (but intent), strangers to lovers, milf-horny wanda, compulsory heterosexuality and mentions of homophobia, an attempt at the 80s scene, some angst but a happy ending. | Words: 7.525k

A/N-> I don’t know where this came from.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

-&-

The book club had been Agatha's idea.

A harmless little pastime is how she would describe it during the weekly community meeting. Some short and simple speech about how modern housewives needed distractions while their husbands were at work and the kids were at school, anything that would please the ears of the preacher and the town council enough for the men to ignore the remnants of card games or bottles of alcohol that appeared whenever Agatha organized any “ladies' meetings” - as she liked to describe it.

Wanda and almost all the other women were happy to participate - and that is, almost all of them since Dorothy had not joined anything Agatha was involved in for two years now, ever since the blonde refused to visit the nightclub that was inaugurated downtown, commenting that it was not a suitable place for family ladies, and in Wanda's opinion, missing out on one of the most fun evenings she had ever had.

This time, Agatha's new invention was weekly meetings of a book club, which for the older woman, was the perfect excuse to get away from her husband Ralph and his strong odor of cheap beer and their grumpy son who apparently didn't know how to take glasses to the sink. Two hours a week to stay off chores and focus on her friends, and as a bonus, to read and discuss the literature she would have had access to if higher education was something women were encouraged to earn.

Wanda was one of the few in the quiet Westview who had a degree - It had been a shared dream of her and her mother Natalya, who wished to see both her children off to college and it was a fortunate thing that it happened before her sad passing. The most unfair thing about that was that despite her mother's wishes for Wanda’s independence, once Natalya was gone, all that Erik did was encourage her to leave college and look for a husband, the last of which Wanda eventually gave in to in her senior year. Jarvis Vision Stark was a couple of years older than her and was completing his degree in Engineering, and to almost everyone in her class, that had to be true love. He was a good-looking young man, with a good family and education, and he seemed so in love with her. With that in mind, Wanda tried to love Vision with the same intensity that he said he did, but with the passing of the years, and the arrival of the children, the fantasy dissolved into a boring routine and conformism.

Despite those issues, her twins, Billy and Tommy, were her most precious treasure. And they were also the only thing keeping her marriage on track, Wanda dared to think.

Getting a divorce, in the traditional Christian-Jewish community of Westview, would be a scandal under any circumstances. Sometimes, when she ventured to imagine being someone with this kind of courage, Wanda could only imagine the look of disappointment on her father's face when he heard the news, and the thought was soon shoved away like dirty clothes in the washing machine.

At least Wanda had Agatha. Her long-time, trusting friend, with whom she could share torments like this, and complain about slack-jawed, obstinate husbands.

And there was also now the book club.

Westview only had one library close to home, and well, Agatha had been clear in her instructions. No cheap or religious literature, she warned with a cigarette between her lips, gesturing with one hand when one of the girls asked about what the first meeting would be like. 

"Bring something interesting." Agatha suddenly gave a little smile, the same kind when she managed to bring a bottle of liquor hidden away for the Saturday church service. "Scandalous, if you dare."

They all sighed in surprise, complicit for the whole thing. Some began to whisper among themselves, but Wanda knew what she would have to do. There was nothing of the sort in Westview, so she would have to leave the residential neighborhood.

She woke up on Tuesday, dropped the kids off at school, and made breakfast. for Vision, who didn't even bother to say thank you, not happy to hear that Wanda was going out, but courteous enough to offer her a ride, which she declined almost immediately. She had the distinct impression that it was a way of being monitored, and she couldn't bear to deal with it when she was already so nervous. 

Taking the bus downtown, she went straight to the new commercial village of Westview. She caught a glimpse of some neighbors, who worked in the local shops but didn't say hello to any of them.

She walked until she found a bookstore, a small, old building with carts full of books at the door and advertisements that, although scattered and colorful, were easy to understand. It was a very cozy place, which made Wanda smile for a quick fantasy about having tried to work with books after her graduation if she hadn't been pregnant at the time.

A bell rang when she entered, but no one greeted her for the first few minutes she was inside. It gave her just enough time to go to one of the nearest bookshelves and run her fingers through the rows of books, a smile playing on her lips.

"Didn't you hear the door, Pchelka (little bee)?" A voice caught her attention, and Wanda turned, trying to see between the shelves. At a glance, short, red hair attracted her eye, and she blinked to find the face of a very pretty woman offering her a gentle smile. "One minute, sweetheart. We'll be right with you."

Wanda opened her mouth to say she wasn't in a hurry, sympathetic to the number of books the redhead was carrying, but in the next second, the woman disappeared between the columns and she didn’t have a chance to say anything at all. 

The bookstore remained empty and silent for another half minute, but once Wanda made mention of turning her attention back to the books behind her, a ladder opened from the ceiling, and out of it jumped a figure in an apron, and out of instinct, Wanda hopped away. 

"So sorry for the scare, Miss." You apologized with a soft chuckle at the scene, closing the attic in a single motion and running your hands through your hair and shoulders in an effort to blow off some of the dust. "We are reviewing the inventory. How can I be of assistance?"

Her breath caught in her throat at the image of your gentle and playful smile. She felt so foolish.  In all her 32 years, when was the last time she had been tongue-tied, if ever? 

You raised one of your eyebrows, and repeated the question, bringing a new color to her cheeks. Wanda broke into a clumsy giggle at the same second.

"Sorry, you caught me by surprise." She managed to cover it up, adjusting a lock of her hair and then moving her hands to smooth her clothes, suddenly unsure what to do with herself. "I’m…looking for a book."

You cracked another smile, finding the scene quite amusing. This older, breathtaking woman, all shy and adorable around you. "Well, we have lots of those." You teased, and Wanda felt her stomach do a complete turn at the sound of your raspy giggle. Maybe she was getting sick. Yeah, that would explain her body’s out-of-control reactions.   "What are you looking for, or perhaps a name...?"

"Wanda." She interrupts, and you frown in confusion. Taking a deep breath, she holds out her hand. "I am Wanda Maximoff."

Despite the strangeness of the moment and the fact that she didn't understand that you wanted the name of the book and not hers, you smiled warmly and repeated the gesture. Wanda has never hated work gloves as she does now, a curiosity burning to know what your skin would feel like on hers, the thought bringing such a strong color to her ears that she needs to look away immediately, barely catching the name that you mention next.

She clears her throat, and adds: "I'm actually joining a book club and the only guidance we had was to bring something interesting." And she risks looking you in the eye to add. "Scandalous."

You find it funny, even adorable if you could put it that way. Maybe it's because of the color of her face when she says it. Or maybe it's because these college students - Wanda judges you to be one for your apparent age - are more modern than she would have been and don't bother with this sort of subject.

"Hm, I think I can help with that." You retort with a thoughtful expression, beckoning for Wanda to follow you deeper into the store and she does so only after taking a deep breath.

The columns of poetry make her bite her lip in curiosity, some of the names Wanda recognizes from her own years as a student, but it is only when you are in the last aisle with the little gold plaque labeled "Sapphic Literature" that Wanda thinks she has stopped breathing.

You do everything very calmly. Climbing up one of the stairs, and taking some time to read the titles, you take a small book from one of the higher shelves and walk back to Wanda, whose face is almost Natasha's hair color now.

With a smile, you hold out the book, but don't let go, holding the item as she does. 

"There's nothing more scandalous than this for a small town like Westview." You say. "But if it's too much, Miss Maximoff, I can always suggest something different. You know, like stuff about the first war or Russian philosophy..."

"N-no, this is fine." She interrupts you, grabbing the book strongly and pulling it close to her chest. You don't know if she's trying to hide it or keep it from fleeing, but it makes you chuckle. "Thanks for the help."

"No problem." You reply, studying that face for a moment. Wanda swallows dry but holds your gaze. You clear your throat as soon as you realize you're staring. "Is there anything else I can do for you?"

She almost sighs, her knees going weak at just the line her thoughts take. Shaking her head, she offers you a small smile. "No, that will be all." She says and practically runs off to the edge of the store, back to the cashier.

The redheaded woman is taking care of the payment now, and Wanda doesn't notice the look you exchange with her because she's too busy sensing your presence coming behind her.

"Excuse me, Miss Maximoff, let me wrap this up for you." Your whisper near her ear makes her shudder from head to toe, and it is fortunate that you grab the book from her as Wanda is sure she would have dropped it on the floor.

You walking away is the only reason Wanda's legs stop shaking.

"Good choice, ma'am." Commented the attendant as soon as you put the book on the counter to be scanned. Wanda noticed the small badge spelled out in silver letters "Natasha" stuck to her apron. "We are also fond of sapphic literature around here." She added with a complicit smile.  Wanda didn't understand why it seemed like a code for something, she was too distracted by the movements of your hands storing the book in a pretty bag. She remembers forcing a smile, paying with trembling fingers and practically running out of the bookstore, feeling your gaze burning into her back.

The bell made another noise on the way out, and with the bookstore empty, Natasha's laughter filled the air.

"How do you always find our people?" Questioned the other impressed, but you laughed short, shrugging.

"I won't deny that I have this ability, but in this case, how can you say? You saw her for like, three seconds."

Natasha shook her head, checking the cashier. "Oh, please, she was eye-fucking you this whole three seconds.” Declared the redhead, ignoring your protest at her choice of words. "Besides, it's kind of obvious by her not freaking out over sapphic poetry, isn't it?"

You sigh, somewhat disbelieving. "I don't know, people are more friendly nowadays." You try, but Natasha gestures away as if she doesn't agree.

"Your problem is that you're too naive, Parker." Retorted the redhead with an amused expression. "Women like me, experienced not old, are not so friendly. We come from different times, different generations. You couldn't go around reading gay literature anywhere, hardly found any to be fair. If she wasn't like us, she would have caused a scene at the mere suggestion."

"Alright, Romanoff, I believe you." You grumbled begrudgingly while grabbing one of the last boxes to be checked off the desk. "But that doesn't mean she was interested in me." You stated, but Nat snorted incredulously.

"I bet you five bucks she'll be back next week!" Retorted the redhead, but you only chuckled, letting her increase the bet as the distance grew.

-&-

A tense silence grew with every second in the crowded room. 

Wanda sat there, almost not breathing until she finally realized what she had just done. Read. The room began to spin next. She gripped the pages hard enough to wreck the book in her lap, but just as panic was about to overwhelm her, someone sighed loudly.

"Well, that was definitely scandalous." It was Monica, and the good humor of the comment made the room explode into little giggles.

The girls began commenting among themselves excitedly in the same second, some still somewhat hesitant and embarrassed, but definitely thrilled about the whole thing. Wanda felt a gentle hand on the back of her back, through the exposed part of the plastic chair.

"Just breathe, Wanda, everything's fine." It was Agatha, who was still sitting next to her. Who didn't hate her for reading a passage from Emily Dickinson in the middle of the book club, who was still her best friend. Wanda only managed to mumble a weak, whiny yes, and Agatha looked at her with concern before announcing to the entire room that they would take a break before the next reading. Wanda doesn't remember getting up, but she didn't breathe normally again until on the outside balcony of the Harkness Residence. "Here, honey."

The glass of water helped, and Wanda had just returned it to Agatha when the window door opened again. It was Monica, with an almost proud smile, who spoke only after sliding the glass door closed again.

"I have to say, Wanda, you have guts." Her friend joked, and Wanda grimaced.

"What...?"

"I didn't know there were more of us in Westview, Aggie. You could have told me." Monica complained to the older woman, giving Agatha's arm a gentle pat. But the woman just smiled awkwardly, looking at Wanda as if she were seeing her for the first time.

"She never mentioned it, I'm afraid." Agatha commented, and Wanda felt like she might throw up at any moment. "Hey, breathe honey. It's okay, all right? You're safe with us."

But Wanda put a hand over her chest, feeling it tighten. "My god, what I just did... They will tell my husband... my father will hear about it-"

"Hey, Wanda, here. Focus on me, darling, breathe." Agatha grabbed her hands, trying to help her control the panic and tears that began to roll down her face. "Honey, it was just a poem. Nothing is going to happen, okay, you just brought what I asked for, and none of them minded. Nothing has changed, now breathe. You're safe, Wanda."

“Of course, I would ruin the book club.” was the first thought she had hours later when she woke up before the time to pick the boys up from soccer. She didn't have to do it though - Agatha left a little note saying that she had taken care of everything and wished her rest. 

Monica drove her home so that Agatha could close the meeting without raising any more suspicions about Maximoff's state, who had had a panic attack because of a poem read aloud. If the other neighbors knew, it would create chatter, and Wanda simply couldn't handle that.

Monica left her safe and sound in her house, wrapped in blankets, and didn't mind staying until Wanda cried herself to sleep. And Wanda woke up alone, feeling worse than before as if a very embarrassing secret had been revealed to the world and was mocking her outside the bedroom walls.

But her children were back in no time, and as they rushed to the shower, she went to thank a very concerned Agatha Harkness.

"Are you feeling better, sweetheart?" Asked her friend gently holding her arm. Wanda didn't meet her eyes, nodding.

"Thank you for dropping the boys off." Murmured her quietly, swallowing before adding. "And for earlier. I didn't mean to bring any trouble."

Agatha gripped her with more determination. "Listen here, Wanda, it was no trouble at all, okay?" Assured the woman, who although in a serious tone, still had very gentle eyes. "You are my best friend, Wanda Maximoff. Nothing will ever change the care and love I feel for you. When you're ready to talk about today, about this part of you, I'll be here. And Monica too. You are not alone, honey. You never have been." There was a different complicity in the last sentence, but Wanda only sighed in relief, nodding and finally relaxing when Agatha hugged her.

She thanked her again between silent tears and Agatha only left when she was sure Wanda believed her words.

-&-

It took Wanda three weeks to return to the store. Not that you were counting, or thinking every day about the middle-aged woman who had a gay panic attack with your poor attempt at service. Not that Natasha didn't shut up about it.

And as luck would have it, you were alone in the store because your boss, who you also called a friend, was out picking up some orders and her sister at the University of New York, and well, it had been a slow day until the doorbell rang in the early afternoon and it was Wanda.

"You again." That was the first you managed to say, almost sighing and hating how affected it sounded. Luckily, Wanda seemed equally happy and relieved to see you again.

"Hello." She greeted, repeating last week's gesture of adjusting a lock of her hair. She looked different from before, more elegant, with a dark jeans jacket expensive enough to have come out of a magazine, and a dress underneath that made you swallow dry. 

You had no idea how long she spent in front of the mirror trying to choose the right outfit with two neighbors weighing her choices.

Trying to play it cool and sound as casual as possible, you add:  "Wanda Maximoff from the book club, right? Did they like the poems?"

She hesitated in a nervous smile, looking around as if to check if there were no other customers and satisfied with the distant presence of a boy in the Vinyl's Discs area and a lady further down the hall, as she practically whispered, "You were right. It was scandalous enough for Westview." She teased, managing to get a short laugh out of you that made her stomach do flips and her cheeks turn a rosy hue. It was decided, she wanted to hear the sound again and would do anything to be the one to make you laugh.

"Well, I'm glad to hear that." You retort with a little smile. "I hope you enjoyed the book too, though." Your addiction makes Wanda's heart skip a beat. So you cared if she was the person who enjoyed the reading, it wasn't all about a professional suggestion on how to make an impact on the book club as she presumed. Well, Agatha was right. 

Risking, probably everything, Wanda commented: "Oh, I definitely loved the reading. I had a good time imagining the scenarios she described." Despite the confidence in saying it, she was blushing, and the way she spoke as if a secret between the two of you and with your knowledge of how erotic Emily Dickinson's stories were, was the reason you knock over half the stack of books you were trying to organize onto the floor.

The noise attracted the attention of the other customers, but you forced a smile and gestured that everything was fine before you ducked down, quickly beginning to pick everything up while Wanda looked at you with a certain amusement, as if she had just confirmed a theory.

"Sorry. You caught me off guard." You mutter in embarrassment, and Wanda chuckles, ducking down as well. She helps you with the last of the fallen books, and in the gesture of returning them, your hands rub together and the whole world stops for a second.  Just long enough for you to look at her, and then to step away at once, clearing your throat. Wanda does the same, and before you have a chance to say anything, the record customer interrupts you.

It has to be the most annoying sale you've ever made. He stalls you for long minutes, and all you can do is watch out of the corner of your eye as Wanda slips further into the back of the bookstore, and you lose sight of her. To make matters worse, when the man finally leaves, familiar vehicle parks in the back of the store, and less than five minutes later, two figures with heavy boxes appear.

Yelena has gotten a haircut, and you have a moment of shock to deal with that. The next, she is making a terrible impression on the other customer in the store, the cookbook lady, who immediately grimaces as soon as your friend practically jumps on you. Whether it's the display of affection or Yelena's tattoos and rebellious posture, the woman leaves the store muttering lowly. 

You pay no attention to this, grinning as you match Yelena's hug before she lets go of you.

"сука, next time you lock up the semester, at least stop at the dorm to smoke with us!" Complained your friend as she leaned on the counter where she had left her magazine supply box. Natasha dropped hers with a tired grunt, and once the books were secured, she gave a warning slap on the feet that Yelena threatened to put on a shelf. 

"There won't be a next time." Natasha answers for you. "She's giving up for good."

Yelena lets out an exclamation, but you grimace. "That hasn't been decided, Romanoff." You defend yourself. "I just needed more time. I think I'll just switch vocations. Again."

Natasha giggled, but Yelena patted you on the shoulder. "Hey, don't look so down. I also think about quitting Fashion every week, and every week I remind myself that no one is as talented as Yelena Belova and the world must not be deprived of my masterpieces." The comment makes you and Natasha laugh and roll your eyes. 

The redhead pushes her sister by the shoulders away from the counter. "You said you came here to work, not get in Parker's way. Find something to do-"

"Oh, sure, I'll get us some coffee." Yelena interrupts, letting go of her sister's hands. She points a finger at you. "Cappucino or-"

"Sorry." Wanda's interruption makes the three of you look at her at once. She is intimidated, but only for a split second. Forcing a smile, she raises the book she holds at face height. "I was hoping to take this one."

You take an awkward step forward, and it is enough for Yelena to acquire an expression as if she just has won the lottery. Busy taking care of Wanda's purchase, you don't even notice the sisters' exchange of glances.

As you wrap up the book, you try to disguise the trembling in your hands. 

"I couldn't really thank you for the recommendation." Wanda speaks suddenly. You smile awkwardly, holding out the bag with the book on the counter.

"It was no trouble at all, Wanda." But she extends her hand over yours, and your heart stops.

"I really appreciated it, sweetheart." That's what Wanda says, stroking your skin with her thumb. "We have meetings every week, and maybe, you could join us in the next…"

You opened your mouth like a fish, babbling like a fool and completely in shock at the invitation of the most beautiful woman you have ever seen in your life. “I-I…”

"Would love to, of course." Yelena elbowed you so hard that you pulled your hand away from Wanda’s to massage the spot. She offered her worst-intention smile to Wanda, the kind she only used at college parties when she wanted guys who would never have a chance with her to buy her drinks. "She's a first-rate nerd, she'll love it, ma'am. I’m Yelena, by the way. My sister, Natasha, is the owner here. And since we’re talking about hanging out, did you know that we do friends' reunions around here? You're more than welcome to join us."

Wanda adjusts awkwardly, a little surprised. "Oh, what kind of reunion?"

Yelena sighs thoughtfully, shrugging. "Well, I don't want to call it a college party, because even though we're all college students, it's not done on NYU grounds and is reserved for fewer people and the drinking is much better..."

Chuckling short, and adjusting the bag on her wrist, Wanda denies it with her head. "It's a kind invitation, but I think I'm too old for such things."

"What nonsense!" Yelena retorts gesturing indignantly. “ "With all due respect, such a beautiful woman will completely enhance the party. And well, my sister always attends with her friends, and you must be the same age..." You bite the inside of your cheek hard, you love your friend but she is charming and beautiful and is clearly flirting with Wanda to annoy you. Wanda blushes, and Yelena knows she's won this one. Emerald eyes search yours, and you find that the one who might have won is actually you.

"Will you be there?" She asks, and having trouble hiding a smile, you nod. With a sigh, Wanda looks at the expectant blonde beside you. "I think I could show up for a little bit-"

"That's fantastic!" Yelena gets excited, not even waiting for Wanda to confirm before she ducks down on the counter and finds one of the invitations to these parties that Natasha hides near the cashier. 

You barely had a chance to say goodbye to Wanda, with Yelena and her party directions, but at least you had confirmation that the woman would be there for the last weekend of the month, the typical date when those meetings were organized. And the realization had you sliding to the floor behind the counter with one hand on your chest.

"My god I think I'm having an anxiety attack-"

"No, that's a gay outburst triggered by a hot milf." Yelena cut in with a roll of her eyes, crossing her arms as she approached you again. "You gonna have to put it together, 'cause we need to pick out what you're going to wear next week, on your hot date with her.”

You're as red as a tomato. "It's not a date! It's a book club!"

Natasha - who hadn't said anything about the interaction until now - burst out laughing, and teased "Hm, that's what young people are calling it these days."

"You two are terrible." You complained embarrassed, shaking your head in disbelief at the giggling sisters. "We don't even know if she's interested."

Natasha chuckled. "Of course she is. Sapphic poetry the first week, and now she comes back just to stroke your hand. Yes, Parker, everyone saw that. If that's not interest, I don't know what else to call it."

Sighing in defeat at the sisters' complicit gaze, you stood up again. "Let me get back to work." You grumbled, but still, Yelena followed you with thousands of ideas about what you could wear.

-&-

Book club sessions allow you to get to know Wanda better. And inevitably fall in love with her as you never had with anyone else, at least not at that intensity.

Unfortunately, a meeting full of middle-aged women with a certain willingness to gossip about any subject, especially the unusual friendship of the young college student from downtown with one of the most respectable ladies in the neighborhood put practically a watch on your back. All your moments with Wanda, stolen touches and long glances between snacks and reading verses for the next few weeks came burdened with the worry, especially for her, that the rest of the world could see all too well what was going on between you two. 

And there was also the great frustration that in fact, nothing was actually happening. Aside from the undeniable attraction and warm affection you developed for each other, you were just book club buddies. You couldn't even call Wanda a friend, in fact, you wouldn't want to. All you knew about her family was Agatha or Monica telling you, the other was limited to any other subject but this one. 

Pretending not to know or just accepting that Wanda had a life beyond the safety of your afternoons together hurt all the same.

Your only hope of progress for what was happening came at the end of the month, with the arrival of the reunion date between your friends. It was the most intimate event Wanda could attend and you had a feeling there would be no going back for whatever might happen that night.

The Thunderbolts was what the group of friends you and Yelena were part of called themselves since the beginning of college. And unlike Peter and Kate, or even the freshmen, America and Kamala, who were all set on what profession they would follow after graduation, you had already dropped three courses in total. Starting out in medical school as your parents would have liked, switching to applied biology with Peter until you tried computer science with America, you finally dropped out to work with books with Natasha. It was the closest thing to happiness, even if it meant lousy pay. 

But ignoring this, what was certain about you and the Thunderbolts was that you guys knew how to throw a decent party. 

The loud music didn't escape much from the top floor of the store because two years ago Natasha had gotten glassware with sound isolation for the rehearsals of the Red Skulls - her ex-girlfriend Carol Danvers' rock band - that kept neighbors from calling the police.

The drinking was taken care of by Natasha's friends, and well, it was always good stuff. There was also plenty of food and lots of weed, grown naturally in T'Challa's private greenhouses.

It was a college party, there was no denying it, but still, you went up to the roof, waiting for a woman twice your age who had a wedding ring mark on her finger.

Wanda almost didn't show up, and when she did, she was accompanied by a very beautiful woman. 

Natasha also had a thing for older women and was half drunk, a dangerous combination. Since Wanda was your flirt, the Romanoff wasted no time in approaching the other one, who introduced herself as Agatha Harkness and was more than happy to accompany the redhead on her tour of the studio apartment that made up the second and third floors of the bookstore.

You were trying to remain calm and mannerly around Wanda, but it was almost impossible not to become a mess when she was absurdly gorgeous in her half-open social shirt, smelling fucking good from yards away. 

As the night wore on and you both struggled to stay included in conversations with other people you knew - from Steve and his military school stories to Kate and her hilarious jokes - you began to wonder whether you were getting drunk on beer or on Wanda's perfume in your senses.

Fleeing back to the roof in the hopes of getting some air, you were about to consider leaving the party when Wanda found you again.

"I lost you for a second down there." She commented as she approached, hugging her body to the cold night around you. Your natural instinct would be to take off your jacket, but it suddenly seemed too intimate.

"Now you've found me." You returned with a small smile, glancing at her when she got close enough, only to find that she was already looking at you.

Swallowing dryly, you grew shy about her intense gaze and shifted to the hands she was smoothing on the ledge beside you. Wanda just stood there, close enough to touch until she leaned in a little to whisper.

"Did I do something to upset you? You're hiding from me."

Closing your eyes for a moment, you sighed before risking a look at her. "Agatha told me about your marriage." You state sincerely, and Wanda swallows dryly. "I'm not stupid, and I'm no good with games either. There's a husband, so I just won’t get involved. I'll only get hurt-"

"I'm very attracted to you." Wanda cut in, also decreasing the distance between your faces. Your heart simply stops and your breath catches. If she kissed you now, you'd probably say thank you. With a sigh, Wanda brings a hand to the collar of your shirt, pushing you away gently as a warning to herself. "She didn't lie. Agatha. I have a family, children, and a husband."

It was like a bucket of cold water on your head. But Wanda didn't let you move, keeping her grip on your shirt, and this was probably the only thing holding your tears too.

"I haven't stopped thinking about you since we met." She continues to confess as affected as you are, her green eyes desperate and hopeful. "I haven't felt this way in such a long time..."

But you choked, pulling away. "I don't want to be some game, Wanda. Some secret. And I hate to share-"

"Oh, darling we're so alike." She interrupted a short, possessive chuckle, grabbing your wrist and putting your arm around her before you could move further. The attraction was almost liquid over your limbs, pulling you towards her and you gasped, pressing your face into her collarbone before you lost control for good and take her for yourself in this roof, damn the consequences. "I thought your friend Yelena was more. My skin itched at the thought of her touching you, I almost came back here and burned the entire bookstore." She confessed in your ear as she slipped her arm around your shoulders to hug you. The intense embrace increased your heart rate, and it didn't help that Wanda was playing with the lobe of your ear between her teeth.

"Stop saying things like that or I just might..."

"What? Tell me what you’ll do with me." Wanda challenges equally affected and you lose it, digging your teeth into her collarbone and sucking hard. She whimpers, knees buckling as her hips thrust up towards yours, but all you do is force her back against the edge, your firm hands on her waist keeping her from gridding herself on you as she wants to.

"I could fuck you right here, Wanda. Send you home smelling of dirty sex." You assure her darkly, your hands playing dangerously on the limits of her blouse. All Wanda does is groan rusky in your ear, wishing you would do as you say. “I bet you’ve waiting for me to.”

The smug phrase almost takes her sanity completely: Wanda grunts needily, trying to grab your wrist and force your hand between her legs, but you pull away hard, leaving her a slack mess trying to balance on wobbly legs with the help of the wall.

"I won’t be your mistress, Wanda Maximoff." You warn hoarsely, yet determined. You adjust your messy hair. "Sorry, but this little game of ours ends tonight."

Wanda hesitates, biting her lip. You hold up your hands, to point at the ring finger, reminding her of her condition and in a way, mocking her as well. Wanda hates the way she feels herself throb between her legs because of your smirk. 

She thinks she would have gone after you if Agatha hadn't appeared on the roof, reminding her with a certain irony that it was time for “respectable ladies” to go home.

In the car, her friend noticed her quiet, sulky posture.

"Did that girl say anything to spoil your evening, dear?" Harkness asked in a mixture of curiosity and concern, and all Wanda could do was let out a wry laugh, one hand adjusting her hair.

"No, Aggie." Wanda retorted sincerely. "I'm more sure than before about what I told you last week."

Agatha hummed in understanding, remaining silent for a long moment of thought. As she passed a sign toward the residential neighborhood of Westview, she spoke:

"I know a lawyer. Miss Walters. Divorce specialist." She began, ignoring the tense posture the other had acquired. “Former family friend, who always said that if I called, she would give me a special discount. Ralph owns the house, so splitting from him would have meant goodbye to Westview, and well, he never bothered me enough to lose you."

Wanda's eyes widen as she understands what her friend is saying, and she stares at her with tears in her eyes. But Agatha smiles through the mirror reflection, shrugging.

"Nicholas may be a difficult boy, but he also deserved to have a mother around." She continues. "And we have fun, you and me and the girls, don't we darling?"

Wanda agrees tearfully, nodding. Agatha chuckles, making the last turn and the landscape becomes several little houses alike.

"Just make a decision while you have time, dear." She continues a bit more hurriedly, stealing glances at the houses that still have lights on. "That beautiful woman today, Natasha, reminded me of a youth I sacrificed. I am old, Wanda. Affairs are fun, but I no longer have time to start a life with someone I really care about. You do, and you don't even have to. You have a chance to be with someone you really feel passionate about, if only for a week."

Agatha parked the car, and the porch light came on. Vision was waiting for her at the door, a half-stern expression due to the exit he didn't agree with - An unusual pastime for a family lady, they had discussed before she left.

With a sigh, she said goodbye to Agatha and got out of the car. Jennifer Walters' phone card was in her pants pocket.

It could take four to five weeks of staring at the bookstore doorbell to finally see the face you wanted to see enter that bookstore. You would be surprised enough that Wanda looked even more beautiful since the last time you saw her, and that this almost made you lose your balance on the ladder you had climbed to organize books on the top shelf.

This time Wanda would ask for a book in the law section, just for the entertainment of studying your reaction when, after demanding that you wait for her to find what she was looking for, she would press a book on divorce against your chest. Wanda would have just over five seconds for you to understand what she was getting at, before she was pressed into the shelf and grabbed by the thighs to be lifted into the air, your mouth glued to hers and her legs locked around you.

The messiest, hottest make-out session she never had as a teenager, but it would make her feel like one again. Hands determined and curious as your tongue ripped out sounds inappropriate for a bookstore, until the bell rang again, and you had to part in gasping breaths.

Wanda would grab your shirt collar before you could go to meet the customer in the lobby to ask you out on a date. On the first date, you could talk about her children, about how the joint custody was going to work out, and how much time you would have to get to know each other. On the second you could go out to eat, and on the third Wanda would feel your fingers on the back seat of the car on the drive home.

Wanda imagined all this on the way, twisting the lawyer's paper between her fingers. 

"Welcome home, Wanda." Vision greeted her, giving her room to enter. Wanda forces a smile, as she removes her hand from her pocket to pass her arm around her spouse for what would probably be the last hug she would give him as his wife. “Did you have fun?”

“I did.”

-&-

It's your night shift.

Natasha has a habit of closing early on weekdays, with the exception of Fridays where she allows reading shifts for all the sleepless geeks, as she calls all the late readers who come to the bookstore after six in the evening.

The day has been quiet so far, and well, you've been too depressed for the past weeks since you decided to move on and get over Wanda Maximoff.

So of course when the bell rings and you lift your eyes from a superhero comic, it's her at the door.

A weary sigh escapes you at the almost apologetic expression of the woman fidgeting with her scarf, and without giving her some other reaction, you lower your eyes again.

"Good evening, Y/N." She greets politely, her voice hoarse.

Turning the page, as if actually reading the words crammed in front of you, you retort, " We're closing soon, so make it quick."

A smile plays on her lips at your response. "Well, I guess that'll be up to you." She retorts, and you frown in confusion, looking up only to watch Wanda turn the sign from open to closed, and lock the door.

You feel your face warm from the lust glint her eyes acquire, but you manage to raise an eyebrow.

"Don't tell me you came all this way to murder me."

She chuckles playfully, approaching at a slow pace while her hands work to remove her coat and leave it on top of one of the endless stacks of books in the reception area. "Is the place empty?"

You bite your lip as she puts on a show to remove her gloves, almost losing the train of thought. "Not really." You mumble, catching the other woman's brief disappointment and hesitation. Closing the comics in your lap to store them under the counter, you clear your throat. "There's an employee area behind this door." You let her know in a husky tone, and Wanda glances behind your shoulder for a moment before stepping around the counter. 

You hold your breath at having her so close now, but she doesn't break the short distance between your faces, leaning in to touch the doorknob. You take a deep breath, and her free hand seeks yours in your lap.

She entwines your fingers together and it takes you a full moment to notice the ring missing in hers. Wanda smiles when she realizes you understand.

"I signed the papers this morning." She whispers it as a secret between you, stroking the back of your hand with her thumb and enjoying the way your skin feels warm. "I was going to write, to let you know, but I decided I wanted you to have me entirely."

You swallow dry, shuddering at the confession. "Oh, that's... nice to know." It's all you manage for the moment, surprised you can still hear her speak when your heart is so loud in your own ear drums. Wanda bites back a mischievous smile and opens the door.

"Come, you can show me how much you appreciate my fairness."

You feel your face burn and grunt in embarrassment. "You're so full of yourself." You mumble, not resisting the tug she gives to get you inside. 

Barely inside when the door closes behind you, your back hits the wood and desperate hands tug your uniform jacket open. Wanda's gasping breaths mingle with yours as she kisses you roughly. 

Her hands work at your belt, but you slow the frantic pace to something so intense and intimate that Wanda melts against you, a moment later green eyes staring up at you tearfully.

"I didn't lie." You begin to explain hoarsely. "There are three customers in the café. They'll notice if we... There's no rush, Wanda." You smile at her tenderly, your hands on her cheeks. "Have dinner with me tonight. You can walk me home."

Her eyes sparkle with happiness, and Wanda nods in agreement, kissing you as a promise. One she will never be ashamed to fulfill, doesn't matter if not even the law allows it.

[agatharkn3ss]

Blink and you miss it - clues on Nicholas Scratch

I'm currently working through the episodes looking for clues, trying to make more sense of what could actually be going on. And I've been finding some real gems!

One of them is this short but very interesting moment - when Agnes O'Connor returns to her office at the precinct. One moment we see a plant with a rabbit next to it (see lower left). The next second the plant is replaced with a photo of a young boy. Then, just as quickly, the next time we see that spot, the plant is back and the picture is gone.

I am not quite sure yet of the meaning of this quick transition at this point in the spell.

But it's the only image we have of Nicholas Scratch so far. I don't think it could be anyone else - by now we all probably realise all those images of rabbits around Agatha's house are a link to Nicky - there was even a rabbit right next to his "school award" in his bedroom.

Also, there was another scene just after Agatha came out of her spell and found Senor Scratchy in the basement - just in that briefest of moments we hear the same music that played when Agnes O'Connor was looking into her son's bedroom (I call it now "Nicky's theme").

Nicky must have loved rabbits and Senor Scratchy must have been his pet - I imagine both Agatha and Rio helped him come up with that name. OR Nicky was originally Spanish (maybe he was born there?) and that's why Rio and Agatha sometimes use Spanish phrases, a little memory of their son.

Side-note: Rabbits in some pagan beliefs were associated with fertility, as well as rebirth and resurrection. So I wonder if maybe this is somehow linked to how Nicky was created in the first place?

(Crazy thought - if Agatha did actually walk the Road before - which I still have big big doubts about - how cool would it be if it was her and Rio because they wanted to have a child together? So because they weren't seeking power, the Road looked completely different to them than what they are going through now? Unlikely, but cool! Though it would be that much more heart-breaking to lose their son after that effort)

[vigilante24ish]

🌙 Moon Phases 🌙

Agatha Harkness X Fem!Reader

Chapter 1. - Chapter 2. - Chapter 3. Chapter 4. - Chapter 5. - Chapter 6. Chapter 7. - Chapter 8. - Chapter 9. Chapter 10. - Chapter 11

Word count: 1310

Chapter 11:

Jen grabbed the boy and brought him to her side, instructing him on how to swirl. You were not sure why, but you speculated she was too anxious to focus on it, and you did not blame her.

For a first trial, this was intense, and you did not wish to think of what would come next.

"Eeryone, pull a strand of hair outta your head now." Jen suddenly instructed, and you all obeyed, with Alice even taking a strand from Sharon's head. "A single hair only. Everybody, hurry up."

You all threw the single piece of hair into the swirling boiling water, except for Agatha. As she was ready to do that, she froze and stared at something that you could not see.

It was her time to face her nightmare.

You were not sure what it was, but the fear crawling on her face was not something that you liked. Her illusion was small, but it was enough to send her to the floor with a loud gasp, eyes wide staring at nothing as tears were fighting to escape.

You glanced at the clock, seeing the time being way less than before and you acted on impulse. You stood behind Agatha and after you muttered an apology, you pulled a piece of her hair.

"Ouch!" She exclaimed and looked at you with a hurt expression, but you figured it was mostly shock from your actions.

"Sorry" you said and tossed the hair into the water.

The other witches tried to ask Agatha what she saw, but she refused to answer, turning the focus back on the potion.

Yet you could not help but steal glances at her; seeing her how hard she was fighting to keep her composure in front of the others.

Whatever she has faced has shaken her to the core, and you knew only one thing could truly do that...

Her son

You never learnt what happened to him, and she always refused to tell you, going as far as to raise her tone when you tried to push the topic.

So, you let it go and simply waited, hoped, for the day she would open up to you. You had met that boy when he was very young, and while you never had the chance to bond with him properly, you were always wondering what happened to him.

For the day it all went downhill, that boy took with him the bigger part of Agatha's heart and light.

"We need to clasp hands..." Jen instructed, your focus on her again. "...and clear your minds. Once our intentions are aligned, it will glow bright cerulean."

Alice glanced around her. "Yeah. What're our intentions again?"

"To not die."

And so you did that, pouring all your intentions of surviving the first trial.

You dared to open one eye and once again was disappointed to find that your effort did not work with the first time.

Why? Because the colour of the potion should be blue, and this was clearly a shade of green.

"I must have forgot something." Jen exclaimed as panic started to rise within her.

Teen dared to glance at the clock. "One minute left."

You felt your heart beating faster and you looked at the worried potions witch. "What did you forget?" You asked, hands placed firmly against the marble surface.

Jen, feeling the weight of the situation, took a step back. "I don't know! I've never made this potion before! I make retinol serums, for Christ's sake!"

"Fifty seconds."

You glanced at the boy. "Shouting the time is not really helping here!" You snapped back, realizing that if Jen suddenly got cold feet; you were all dead.

Surpringly, it was Agatha who took the initiative. She grabbed the witch from her upper arms and stared dead into her dark eyes.

"I have always hated you... but I left you alone because what you were doing was important. Not this Kale Kare crap, the real work. You can be that witch again. They can take your power, Jen, but they can't take your knowledge."

Silence enveloped the room, everyone looking at Jen for the missing ingredient; feeling bout to pass out from the worry and the stress they were all experiencing.

"Blood. We need the blood of the unpoisoned."

It was Alice who gathered the courage and checked the clock. "Thirty seconds."

Agatha did not hesitate to grab a huge kitchen knife. With her free hand, she grabbed the boy's wrist and, with the other, cut a deep enough slash. "Thanks for being underage."

The move shocked everyone, but Agatha paid no mind as she guided the boy's hand over the boiling water, letting the droplets of blood fall in.

A sigh of relief left your lips when it turned blue and you wasted no time dunking your glasses into the water before hastily drinking the antidote; just as you were in the last ten seconds of the countdown.

However, the timer did not stop after you drank the antidote and it took you all a few precious seconds to be reminded that Sharon had not taken it since she laid unconscious on the couch.

By the last second, you managed to empty the cup into her lips, and by the faint movement of her limps; it was evident that she was also alive.

A clicking sound startled you all before it was noticed that the oven door had opened on its own.

You were the first to walk toward it, perhaps the bravest, and you were surprised to see some never-ending slide leading Gods knew where.

"I think this is our exit," you said as the others gathered around you.

"I am not climbing in an oven" Lilia argued. "That happened to a friend of mine, she had a lovely house, and she ended up..."

Her storytelling was cut short as the windows broke, and saltwater started to fill the house at a terrifying pace.

You stared at it with wide eyes as the dark blue waters were coming your way. You were a good swimmer and you always found something nice at the salty smell of a sea breeze but even this was out of your league.

Lilia moved first, now longer hesitating to enter the oven and slide down; followed by Jen.

You waited for Agatha to join y before she could, Teen and Alice reminded you that Sharon was still left behind.

"We don't know what happens if we leave her behind." Alice argued.

You knew she was right, and honestly, Sharon should not die like that; not when it was never her fault for ending up on the Road.

You turned to Agatha. "Go, I will go help them"

Surpringly, your lover did not agree as she once again grabbed your wrist. "No, you go down that oven"

Yet you stubbornly stared her in the eye, not moving an inch. "No, you are, or you are helping me with Mrs. Davis"

Agatha wanted to argue, to grab you by the back of your neck and shove you down that slide. She wished to scold you to for suddenly being both selfless and annoyingly stubborn.

In the end, she gave up.

"Fine!" She spat, and you both joined to help carry the unconscious human towards the oven.

By now, the floors had flooded, and the water was rising fast; making your fear it would block your way to the oven and your only exit if you were late.

Thankfully, you all managed to push her down the slide and followed suit. This time, it was Alice who stayed behind.

She watched you go after Agatha, and as she sat by the edge, she grabbed the oven door and closed it behind her before letting gravity and water pull her down the unknown slide.

Chapter 12

[mrs-pianofandom-98]

Agatha Harkness a single mother to her pride and joy seven year old Nicky.Agatha, a single mother to 7-year-old Nicky, keeps to herself. Always sarcastic and protective, but melts when it comes to her son. Her late shift at work runs longer, leaving Nicky locked out of their apartment. A new couple, Jennifer and Lilia, their neighbors , find Nicky alone. Popular influencer Jennifer, and quiet shop owner Lilia, step in to help. Agatha's walls start to crack as she finds herself bonding with them, discovering an unexpected connection.

Agatha couldn’t believe she was running late for the third time this week. She had promised Nicky she would be home when he was dropped off by the bus. Her heart racing as she made it up the elevator finally as she made it to her apartment door 267 B. Her eyes darting in the hall trying to find Nicky. Her eyes settled on his dark green backpack she went over and picked it up looking around. “Nicky what have I told about leaving this in the hall?”

She said out loud trying to get him to come out and answer her. When no answer she felt her anxiety rise. Before she could set in to panic a voice from behind her got her attention.

“Agatha? You alright?” Agatha internally groaned as she saw her neighbor Jennifer. The influencer had moved in with her girlfriend, a kooky older shop owner named Lilia. Agatha and Jennifer had a frenemy relationship.

“Looking for Nicky.” Agatha snipped as her eyes were still darting around. She was irritated she had more important things to do than talk with the distracting influencer. “Oh he’s in mine and Lilia’s apartment. He was sitting outside your door after we came back from town-“ Jennifer went to speak as Agatha immediately met her gaze.

“You didn’t think to wait for me?” Agatha snapped she was internally relieved that Nicky was with someone she at least knew. But she didn’t want to be seen as incompetent with her own son. Jennifer’s eyes narrowed at the accusatory tone Agatha held towards her.

“Calm down. Yes we should’ve somehow warned you. But we couldn’t leave him outside alone Agatha.” Jennifer remarked. Before Agatha could even make a remark back she seen the door down the hall open more. As she met the gaze of Lilia with Nicky in front of her looking happy with a grin.

“Momma! Guess what guess what!” The little seven year old ran towards his momma and tugged on her shirt. “Miss Lilia taught me about tarot cards! They tell the future!” Agatha hadn’t seen him this excited since his birthday. Agatha’s harsh demeanor melted at his expression.

“That’s great hun. Let’s get inside-“ Agatha was cut off by Nicky’s pout. “But Miss Lilia was making pasta momma and she said we could stay for dinner.” Agatha met his puppy eyes as she always had a hard time saying no to those. When she looked up Lilia had joined Jennifer’s side, her gentle aura contrasting to Jennifers confident one. Agatha sighed in defeat.

“Alright..after dinner we have to go back home.” Nicky immediately hugged his mom before running back down the hall into the neighbors apartment. Agatha met the couple's glances as she crossed her arms avoiding eye contact “Thank you for letting him stay.” It left a bitter taste on Agatha’s tongue when it was shown she struggled.

Lilia smiled as she placed a hand on Agatha’s shoulder “It’s no problem dear. I told Jen she should have left a note.” The gentle tone made Agatha meet her gaze and stiffen a chuckle at the pout on Jennifer’s gaze at being called out.

When the three women made their way in the apartment. Jennifer took Agatha coat and hung it up Agatha gave a smirk “Such a gentlewoman.” Agatha teased the women as Jen rolled her eyes fondly. “Trust me lilia thinks so.” Jennifer bantered right back to Agatha. Lilia rolled her eyes fondly. The women were interrupted when Nicky was tugging on Agatha’s hand. “Momma let me show you the cards! Miss Lilia will help me!”

Agatha met Lilia’s gaze silently asking is she wanted to when Lilia nodded she let Nicky pull her to a table and sat her down. Nicky went over to Lilia as she put him on her lap. Usally Agatha had a motherly jealousy when someone showed Nicky the affection she did. But to her surprise she didn’t feel that. Even when Jennifer sat at Lilia’s side also.

Agatha stiffened a chuckle at Nicky’s serious and contracted face as he explained the cards and placed them down as he flipped them over and placed them in front of Agatha. As he looked at Lilia “Miss Lilia what does that one mean again?”

Lilia looked down at the lay out “Good job on the layout dearie.” Lilia praised the boy as she looked at the cards. “That’s the ten of cups meaning seeking out love or emotional fulfillment.” Lilia looked up meeting Agatha’s gaze with a glint of gentleness. Agatha seen Jennifer’s eyes gazing her over as Lilia spoke. “And the one next is the wheel of fortune. Represents change.” Agatha didn’t know why but the reading made her feel something she couldn’t quite place as the women looked at her.

Nicky immediately smiled up at his momma “Momma! It’s good things don’t worry!” Agatha smiled gently at his enthusiasm. “I have a lucky reader don’t I.” Agatha ruffled his hair as he was beaming.

As the night progressed Agatha found herself falling into a fun banter with Jennifer sarcasm with no real bite to the words. And easy flowing conversation with Lillia. When they were done with supper and Nicky had fallen asleep on Jennifer Agatha noticed how domestic this was. She immediately felt her tense up from beside Lilia this wasn’t what she was used to.

Lilia felt her tense up as she placed a hand on Agatha’s thigh. “Me and Jen were planning to go into town tomorrow night. Your usually off on Wednesdays, no? Why don’t you join us.” Lilia said gently like she sensed Agatha's inner turmoil. Agatha met her gaze as she turned to Jennifer who was looking at her with a hopeful expression. Agatha knew she could deny it and make an excuse but she didn’t want to. “I’ll see if the teen who babysits Nicky for me.”

First post for aaa week! Let me know what you guys think.

[cassiebones]

Prompt from @imyouraziraphale

Merry Christmas to those who celebrate!!

"We need a Christmas tree."

"We have a Christmas tree, Nicholas," Agatha said, pointing to the corner of the room where their tree sat.

"Mama, that is a drawing. It's not even in color!"

"It was good enough last year," Agatha huffed, crossing her arms. Her son gave her a look that may as well have been her own reflection and she groaned.

"We need a real tree," Nicky insisted. "Like the one in the mall!"

"That one is way too big for our tiny house, baby," Agatha sighed.

"Okay, but at least one that isn't made of paper," he rebutted, pointing at Agatha's sad little drawing taped to the wall.

"You do know where paper comes from, don't you?" Agatha asked.

"Mama."

"Okay, fine," Agatha huffed. "We'll go to the tree farm in Eastview tomorrow, okay? Jeez."

"Thanks!" He pressed a kiss to his mother's cheek and all but skipped out of the room. Agatha bit back the smile until he was out of view, shaking her head in adoration.

Vidal's Trees was somehow still open on Christmas Eve, but the pickings were slim for trees by this point. Nicky held tightly to Agatha's hand as he dragged her around the lot, examining tree's with a severe gaze, circling them, sniffing them, feeling their branches. Agatha watched him, half-amused, as she wrapped her arms around herself, shivering in the New Jersey December chill. The sun was already going down and the temperature was dropping with it.

"Coffee?" Agatha turned to find a woman standing next to her, offering a steaming paper cup, a wry smile on her face. Agatha felt her cheeks warm at the other woman's presence. She was gorgeous, with medium-length, raven-black hair in a braid, wisps of hair coming out. She had several piercings in both ears and a stud on the right side of her nose. She wore a denim jacket with fur lining and a crocheted scarf sticking out with the lesbian pride flag colors (jackpot! a dumb voice in Agatha's mind supplied), and her dark jeans were tight and tucked into a pair of thick leather boots.

"It's free," the woman said when Agatha just stared at the offered cup. "Complimentary for customers. We also have hot chocolate." She nodded at Nicky, who was still circling the tree. "In the office over yonder." She nodded to a little cabin about twenty yards away.

"Yonder?" Agatha echoed, snorting as she finally accepted the cup. "I didn't know people said that this far north."

The woman smiled and shrugged. "My grandfather used to say it all the time," she said. "It kinda just stuck with me, I guess."

"It's cute," Agatha commented, taking a sip of the coffee. She sighed as the warmth spread through her. "Oh my Goddess, this coffee is amazing. What's in it?"

"Nothing special," the woman said, blushing slightly. "It's just some blend I get from the cafe I work at part-time. I just have a way with the coffee machine, I think."

"Well, if your touch with the hot chocolate is even remotely similar, I think my son would love some, if he ever decided on a tree, anyway." She looked at Nicky, who was testing the branches again. "Is this the one?" she asked, a little impatiently.

"I don't think so..." Nicky said, sounding disappointed. "There are a couple of bare spots and a lot of the branches are snapped. I don't think it would look very good in our house."

"Well, that's what we get for coming out last-second," Agatha sighed, offering an apologetic smile to the other woman. "Sorry to have wasted your time. How much do I owe you for the coffee?"

"Nothing," the woman said. "It's complimentary, remember?"

"For customers," Agatha said. "Based on the options you have left, I don't think we're going to be customers today."

In all honesty, the tree that Nicky had been considering was the best that Agatha could see. Everything else was either taken or worse off than this one was. She was doubtful that he'd be willing to take any of them home with him.

Pity. Maybe next year.

She pulled a couple dollar bills from her pocket and offered them to the raven-haired beauty, but the other woman refused to take them.

"Actually," she said, "I do have one more tree that you might want to see. Follow me."

She started walking away and Nicky immediately darted after her.

"Nicholas!" Agatha groaned, hastening to follow him without falling on her ass in the snow. She caught up to them closer to the cabin, following the two of them around the back of it.

Oh, great, a voice inside her head said, she's probably a murderer about to kill us in her shed. Well, I lived a good life, I guess.

"Here we are," the woman said, stopping just behind her cabin. There stood about four trees, in varying sizes, all in near-perfect condition. Seriously, if you looked up "Christmas tree" in the encyclopedia, there would be a picture of any one of these trees.

They were still rooted, too.

"They're perfect!" Nicky practically squealed, bouncing on his feet. "Can I pick any one of them?" he asked the woman, looking at her with his big brown eyes.

"It's up to your...mother?" She looked at Agatha. "I don't want to assume."

"Your assumption would be correct," Agatha said. "I am his mother."

"I'm sure your husband would approve of this one," the woman said.

Agatha wrinkled her nose, shaking her head. Nicky let out a laugh.

"Mama doesn't like boys!" he snickered. "And she's not married."

Her son, A+ wingman.

"Oh," the woman said, smiling at Agatha. "That's...interesting."

"Is it?" Agatha asked, her eyes flickering down to the scarf around the other woman's neck. She lifted her eyebrows pointedly. "Agatha, by the way." She offered her hand.

The other woman shook it with a toothy grin. She had the tiniest, most adorable gap in her front teeth. "Rio Vidal," she said.

"Of Vidal's Trees?" She let out a dramatic gasp. "I had no idea that I was in the presence of a local celebrity."

"Ha!" Rio said, shaking her head. "Hardly. My parents own this place. They're just down in San Juan for the winter, visiting family and whatnot. I've been tasked with wrapping business up for the season before I go join them in a couple weeks."

Agatha furrowed her brow. "You're alone for Christmas?" she asked, frowning. "That...sucks."

"Bad word!" Nicky exclaimed. "You owe me a dollar."

"You owe me your existence," Agatha huffed in return. He rolled his eyes. She smirked at him then turned back to Rio.

"It's fine," she said. "Christmas was never a huge event, anyway. It's always just been my parents and me. Dad can't really take the cold anymore, so once the temperature starts to drop into the teens, he heads south with my mom. I'm usually there by Christmas, but this year the earliest flight I could get was after New Year's. It's fine, though. Really. We'll celebrate the holidays, then."

"But won't Santa bring you presents still?" Nicky asked, looking genuinely concerned. "Don't your mommy and daddy want to see you unwrap them tomorrow morning?"

"I told Santa Claus to bring all my presents to their house in San Juan," Rio said, crouching to his height. "So I'll open all his gifts for me, just a little bit late. It's okay, though; I can wait."

Nicky still looked unsure. Then, he turned to his mother, tugging at her hand and motioning him down as Rio straightened up. Agatha offered Rio a bashful smile as she crouched down next to her son, letting him whisper in her ear.

"Can we invite her to our house for Christmas Eve?" Nicky whispered in Agatha's ear, making a blush bloom on her face so big that it reached the tips of her ears.

"Nicky..." Agatha whispered back, shaking her head.

"Please, Mama?" he begged, giving her those big brown eyes and his little pout and Good Goddess she had pretty much taught him that, hadn't she? Damn her.

Agatha took a deep breath, nodding as she stood, ignoring the protest in her knees as she did so.

"Rio," she said, trying to keep her voice steady as the other woman's warm gaze met hers, "would you like to join us for Christmas?"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "Oh," she said, a pretty pink spreading over her cheeks. "Um, that's really nice of you to offer, but you don't have to..."

"I insist," Agatha said, feeling Nicky tugging at her hand again. "So does he." She motioned to her son, who hit Rio with that same brown puppy dog stare of his. It proved lethal: Agatha watched as Rio melted under it, offering him a soft smile.

"Okay," she said. "If you insist. I would be happy to join you for Christmas."

"And Christmas Eve, too!" Nicky said. "We're having a party!"

Rio's eyes widened at that. "You are?" she asked.

Agatha took a deep breath, squeezing her son's hand back as she nodded. "We are. A few friends for dinner," she said. "Nothing special."

"We're playing Pictionary!" Nicky said. "Auntie Jen is super competitive! And Aunt Lilia makes really good cannolis!"

"You know," Rio said, smiling down at him, "I happen to love Pictionary and cannolis, so that sounds pretty great to me." She grinned up at Agatha, who smiled back softly. "If you don't mind, of course."

"I wouldn't have let him mention it if I did," Agatha said with a chuckle. "Here, let me get your number and I'll text you my address." She opened a 'New Contact' tab in her phone and offered it to Rio, who was visibly blushing. Agatha's face matched hers and she cleared her throat as their fingers brushed in the exchange.

Nicky watched them with a grin, squeezing his mother's hand a little. When Agatha looked down at him, she found his eyes twinkling. She made a face at him and he giggled, pressing his face into her side. She let go of his phone, running her fingers through his mop of hair.

"Here," Rio said. "Um, I can't wait until the party. I'm sure I'll kick Auntie Jen's butt at Pictionary," she said, looking down at Nicky, who giggled again.

Agatha smiled at the contact name for Rio ("Tree Girl") and sent a text with her address. There was a chime from Rio's pocket and she plucked out her phone, eyebrows lifting.

"Westview," she said, letting out a low whistle. "Fancy." She smirked up at Agatha. "I'll be there. Should I, uh, bring anything? Drinks, ice, food...a tree?" She nodded toward the four trees in her side yard.

"Oh," Agatha said, her eyes widening. "Right." She considered the four trees of varying sizes. "Um, that one might be the perfect size for our apartment, don't you think, Nicky?"

Nicky considered the second-smallest of the four trees, circling it like a dog looking for the perfect angle to lift his leg. Then he nodded.

"Yeah," he said, "I think so. There are no bald spots."

"Perfect, then," Agatha said, turning back to Rio. "How much?"

"Don't worry about it," Rio said. "Consider it a gift."

"Seriously?" Nicky exclaimed, smiling wide. "Awesome!"

"No," Agatha said, looking between him and Rio. "No, we couldn't possibly - "

"Agatha," Rio said, stopping Agatha's words dead on her tongue, "you've just invited me - a stranger - to spend Christmas with you just so I, a grown woman, wouldn't be alone. It's the least I can do to repay you."

"You don't have to repay me," Agatha said. "Besides, it's Christmas; you do good deeds on Christmas, don't you?"

"Then this is my good deed," Rio said. "I got you a Christmas tree. Just say thank you and let me get my axe."

"Your...you're going to cut it down yourself?" Agatha asked, feeling her entire body go hot.

"Of course," Rio snorted. "Do you see anybody else here? How else was I going to get it out of the ground?"

"That is so cool," Nicky said, practically bouncing around in a circle.

Agatha stayed rooted to the ground - much like the four trees behind her - while Rio disappeared around the back of the house and came back seconds later wielding an axe. Her eyes were glued to the other woman as she went to work chopping down the tree, her fists clenching at her sides as many thoughts ran through her mind.

Thoughts she dared not say aloud. Thoughts that would make a stripper blush.

The tree fell to the snow with a muted thud as Rio wiped sweat from her brow, grinning when she caught Agatha still staring at her, a fervent flush on her cheeks. Agatha looked away when Rio met her eyes, clearing her throat.

Rio reached for the end of the tree, pulling it up to her shoulder and dragging it to where there were a bunch of coiled up ropes. Agatha continued to watch her as she tied the tree up, then lifted it like it was nothing, over her shoulder.

"Where's your car?" she asked, tucking some more ropes under her arm. Agatha motioned in the general direction of her car. "Lead the way," Rio said.

Agatha nodded, reaching for her son's hand and practically dragging him in the direction of their car, all while ignoring his knowing smirk as they trudged through the snow, Rio right next to them.

[agathasvidal]

below the cut is a short theory/deep dive into how i believe agatha all along is going to end between agatha and rio. it is inspired by one theory that is doing the rounds, and is the one i originally theorised myself after watching episode six last week, but i wanted to depict the how and the why of why agathario is important to the show, and why i don’t think a ‘final battle’ will be clearly cut between a ‘good’ and ‘bad’ side

like many others, i think it’s reasonable to predict that rio is there to take billy, but she does not actually know who billy is because of the sigil. small things to back this up include:

1. agatha asking rio why she’s there in episode one and rio replying “my job”. agatha is like boom she is here to take someone away, and it can’t be me, and there’s only one new person who’s recently appeared in my life so who the f is this kid why is he important

2. rio saying “did you hide evidence?” to agatha. ironically, someone is being hidden in the closet from her…

3.. rio telling lilia “go on tell them what you saw” in the beginning of episode five. we can infer that rio knows that lilia knows who rio is. perhaps we could go one further, and suggest that rio knows lilia helped hide whoever she is looking for, and is almost taunting lilia in an ‘i really do see it all’ way

3. agatha’s “don’t” to rio in episode four, when teen is injured. it’s obvious, and has been spoken about so much, but i really think this is a moment of confirmation from agatha that rio is there for him, and she needs to beat rio in discovering who he is. it’s confirmation that the two are working against each other, but it is so hidden between their flirtation and tension.

4. there’s been a big debate about why rio would be a witch, whilst she’s also *potentially* death, but i think it was important for the show to portray rio as a witch so the audience know that a sigil would also work on rio, so she cannot discover teen’s identity. why else would they make it such a big deal about sigils only working on witches?

5. the significant of the no. 3 and agatha/rio in the show all hinting at the cycle of life, birth and death: maiden, mother, crone; agatha’s shirt in ep 5; the clocks being on 3.33 when rio arrives in ep 1, the amount of rabbits we’ve seen (3 rabbits/hares represent birth-life-death cycle in christianity and egyptian hieroglyphs)

SO,

to agatha, seeing rio means something is about to be taken away from her. i think that is their entire dynamic within this show, and their entire relationship in general, after the loss of nic. agatha is presented with rio which means she must work out what rio is there to take. that’s why she suspected teen was someone important, because rio was there for either her or teen. teen had to be one of two people. that’s why agatha viscerally protested the idea of coming close to death in the first trial. because she does not want confirmation that rio is there to take this boy from her. she does not even know who he is, but he is important enough for rio to involve herself in agatha’s life once more. he is important enough for rio to go out of her way and resurface old feelings that they both know, the other should not be resurfacing. he is important enough to be seeked out.

by rio taking away billy, she not only repeats her and agatha’s history once more, but she completely takes away the possibility from agatha that she could ever find a way to be reunited with nicky. agatha needs billy, like she needed wanda, to end the quest she’d spent centuries on. rio is not JUST taking another child away from agatha, she is completely breaking the entire, vicious cycle of longing and hope for the son they lost.

i think that rio thinks that is for the best. for her agatha. to stop this endless chase for something rio knows she cannot have. rio is doing it out of love, even though it tears them apart more than anything else ever could. that is the lesson that agatha needs to be taught: the cycle of birth, life and death. (yes i could then start hypothesising about agatha dying, but i think it’s been overdone)

so that is our potential final battle. a battle between death and life. they are made for each other, but that is ultimately what tears them apart. one spends their life bound to defying death, and the other does not get life, but is bound to upholding it.

agatha is Death’s life. but all death can do to life, is take from it. in the end, rio will always be agatha’s death. they have always been doomed.

[shutupineedtothink]

Billy Theory - That boy and Agatha are the same

I know some people want Billy to have these hidden motivations and secretly he hates Agatha so that’s why he put the sigil on himself. So that he would show up with this false, aw shucks persona of Billy Kaplan and fool her into helping him walk the Road and bring his mother back at the end. Or get power, or his brother, or whatever.

But I want it to be the exact opposite. He did put the sigil on himself to hide his real identity from her, and from the other witches. But it isn’t because he hates them. He’s afraid of them. He actually is Agatha’s fan. And he idolizes and respects all of these women. And he’s afraid if they find out he’s Wanda Maximoff’s son, the ultimate witch gone bad, the personification of every negative, evil stereotype Lilia has been talking about around witches, they’ll reject him.

He’s afraid they never would have taken him on the Road to begin with, because somewhere along the last three years, and after the events of Multiverse of Madness, he realized oh my god, my mom was the evil one. (I’m assuming Wanda’s turn was publicized in the MCU, or maybe he sensed it magically.) And he (somehow) learns more and more about Agatha and realizes that she was never as evil as she pretends to be, or at least she never went on a killing rampage like Wanda did. But surely she must hate him, because she hates his mom. They must all hate him. That’s his motivation for the sigil. Fear, of himself, of what people will think of him, not anger. Starting to sound familiar?

Sure, I think it’s narratively interesting if he hates her and then he has to come to terms with who Agatha really is underneath it all. But it’s way more narratively interesting, for both of them, if his own journey, his own trauma, his own inner dialogue, very closely reflects hers. They’re mirrors.

What does Agatha, at her core, believe about herself? Her mother hated her because her mother believed she was evil. She internalized that and sees herself as evil, plays into that persona even as she tries to be the opposite of that. In her mind currently, she’s so innately evil she (directly or indirectly) caused the death of her own son.

It’s not quite an exact match for Billy, but the result is the same. He sees (or maybe even magically feels) how his mother turned bad, killed innocent people (listen I love Wanda, but she did). He thinks oh my god, I have the same magic. There’s no witch out there who will want to teach me. And probably, on some deep down level he thinks, maybe I’m evil too. Maybe just like my mom, there’s no other path for me.

Bottom line? That boy isn’t Agatha’s. That boy is another version of her own inner story. She and that boy are the same, on a deep fundamental level.

Stop here if you don’t want potential ep 6 spoilers! More specifics for how I think we move forward under the cut.

Where does that leave us after ep 5/going into ep 6? Here’s the breakdown.

Billy does what he does at the end of ep 5, basically becoming his worst fear, turning into the evil witch version of his mother.

But it’s not real (see my other post about the false trial). So Agatha, Jen, and Lilia, wake up from the false trial (thank you Rio), maybe they have to fight the Seven and defeat them together, and let’s say Alice is alive too, because I want her to be. Everyone’s still on the Road.

Billy is still trapped in the spell. They have to wake him up somehow. Jen’s already saying uncertainly, maybe we don’t want to wake him up, but Agatha immediately defends him. No, it wasn’t his fault, it was a trap, and she provoked him. That whole “trial” was a manifestation of her punishment by the Seven, it wasn’t really him. She’s adamant about this and the others (maybe reluctantly) go with it.

They wake him up — and in my head, they wake him up by destroying the sigil (breaking the illusion of his identity and the Seven’s spell in one go). Of course, it’s Agatha that has to do it, because she and Rio are the only ones who know. And really, Agatha’s known all along, right. I think she knew from the second he broke her out of the spell in ep 1. She just wanted to believe otherwise. So after a few failed attempts to shake him awake and probably a line from Rio along the lines of “You know you have to say it Agatha,” she does. “William Maximoff.” It’s sad, and soft, without any intention to hurt him. (A sigil is destroyed when it’s no longer needed.)

So the sigil is destroyed and our boy wakes up. There’s some initial remnants of anger on his face, but then once he sees them all staring at him warily, he starts to get scared. He remembers what he’s done to them, even if it wasn’t real. He scrambles away from them, please no, I didn’t mean to — I swear I want to be good.

It’s Agatha’s trauma, a version of herself, playing out right in front of her. Playing out in front of us, again. Only now she gets to do for him what her mother never did for her, and what the coven never did for her in the false trial either. She sees him. She defends him, his true self, the curious hopeful smart boy he’s been this whole time. (You don’t need to know someone’s name to know who they really are.) She goes to him and she says it wasn’t real. That wasn’t you. It was me, my punishment. Not yours.

But he’s not convinced yet. And now it hits him — But you know who I am. You said my name.

Agatha says, I think I always knew who you were.

Then why don’t you hate me?

She’s genuinely confused. Why would I hate you?

He looks at the rest of them and back to her. Because I’m… Wanda Maximoff’s son. She hurt you, she hurt so many people. And I have her magic. I was born… (evil? Bad? he can’t bring himself to say it.)

And this is Agatha’s big moment, and the big emotional pay off for us. She says, Billy (the first time we hear his casual name spoken) — Never let anyone else’s fear of you decide who you are. Not mine, not anyone else’s. Never let anyone else tell you you’re horrible, or worthless, or evil. You get to decide who you are, and only you. If you want to be good… you can be. Do you understand?

She’s talking to him, but on some level she’s talking to herself, her own inner child. Does she believe that for herself yet? No, but I digress.

And maybe wryly she adds, because Agatha can’t be serious for too long and I want this line, “Besides, as we’ve already established, I don’t punish children for the sins of the mother.”

Didn’t mean to turn that into a whole fic but there you go. Anyway, Billy gets the message. The coven sees him and accepts him. Maybe there’s hugs. I’d like there to be hugs. We move on to Agatha’s real trial.

Tl;dr? Agatha Harkness is walking out of this Road with Billy Maximoff as her apprentice, goddamnit.

[covenofagatha]

Could you write Agatha/reader where the reader discovers they have a nursing kink 🫠 The ending of chp2 of sugar&spice was so so comforting

I don't know if this is exactly what you had in mind for this request, but hopefully you still like it! Thank you to everyone who voted for this, here you go!!

Nurtured Desires

When your mom's best friend who just had a baby gets caught without a pump, you take matters into your own hands to help her out.

Word count: 1900+

Warnings: nursing kink, lactation, fingering

You’ve always found your mom’s best friend, Agatha Harkness, incredibly attractive. 

But ever since she gave birth three months ago, there’s been something even hotter about her. 

Maybe it’s the way she’s always exhausted but still finds time to smile at you when she sees you. 

Maybe it’s her nurturing side on display that’s tapping into some unresolved mommy issues you have. 

Or maybe it’s the way her breasts are huge and full and she makes no effort to hide her cleavage. 

You feel like a gross guy every time you find your eyes drifting down, but who can blame you? 

You’re pretty sure Agatha has seen you staring a few times, too. But every time, she just gives you a smirk with an imperceptible shake of her head, like she’s scolding you because she knows that she should, not that she wants to.

Her kid, Nicholas, is cute enough. You don’t really know enough about babies to have an opinion, but he gurgles and giggles when he sees you sometimes. When you hold out your finger to him, he’ll grab it with his entire fist and it makes you smile. 

Your mom had been named Nicky’s godmother and you had tagged along with her to the baptism. You can still remember how it felt when Agatha had hugged you, pressing her breasts against your chest. You had been able to think of very little else during the ceremony. 

Agatha had the two of you over to her house a lot after her son was born. Your mom was all too happy to help out, as Nicky’s father was barely ever home and Agatha was exhausted. You kept the older woman company while doing homework for your college classes in the kitchen while she prepared a light snack or in the living room while she caught up on the newest episode of the show she was watching. 

But it was inevitable that Nicky would start crying and Agatha would have to take him into her bedroom to feed him. 

Is it weird that you wanted to know what it was like?

Never before had you been so transfixed by the thought of that, and you had been around several of your mom’s and older sister’s friends who had given birth. 

But everytime, when Agatha could come back out of the room, holding Nicky with her shirt unbuttoned more than it had been, you couldn’t help but feel a tinge of jealousy. 

There is something especially different about today. 

It’s Thanksgiving, and every year Agatha has a lunch where she invites people from the neighborhood over. Her husband has taken Nicky to his parents’ house to give her a break and it seems like she is back to her normal self.

But Agatha has decided to wear a short, tight, navy dress with a very low cut, reminding you that something was still not normal. 

You’re practically drooling over her. There are several times that someone says something to you that you don’t even hear because you’re too busy staring. 

Is she wearing a push-up bra? How are they that perky? You’ve never wanted to suck on something more. 

You physically shake your head to get rid of those thoughts. 

She is your best friend’s mom. She just had a baby. She is married. 

You repeat those sentences like a mantra as you finish helping cook the food. You’ve been tasked with making mashed potatoes, which is a pretty easy job. 

Finally the meal is ready, and while you’re setting the table with your mom and another friend of hers, you notice that Agatha is nowhere to be found. You frown and check back in the kitchen. She’s not there. 

“Mom, did Agatha go to the bathroom?” You ask, hoping she doesn't ask why you care so much. Your mom shrugs absentmindedly, too focused on balancing the plate of cranberry sauce with the bowl of casserole so she doesn’t drop either. 

You glance at the hall bathroom to find the door open. Spurred on by something, you head up the stairs, just to make sure Agatha’s alright. It’s not like her to just disappear. 

“Agatha?” You call out and you hear a muffled sound coming from her bedroom. You can hear the front door open downstairs and you assume more guests are arriving. You tentatively walk into her room, the floor creaking. 

And that’s where you find her sitting on the bed, her back to you. 

“You okay?” You ask, not really sure what’s going on or how to explain what you’re doing. 

She sniffs and turns around and your jaw falls open. 

There’s two damp spots on her chest, visible on the navy material. 

“Uh–” You have no idea what to say. 

“I’m such an idiot, I had all the nursing stuff in Nicky’s bag and it’s with my husband, and I thought I would be okay,” she mutters angrily and you walk over to where she’s sitting, as if in a trance. You think you can smell it. 

“Is there anything I can do?” You ask breathily, falling to your knees in front of her. It sounds like you’re on something and she looks at you with surprise and maybe a little of something else. 

“You want to help me?” Her eyebrow raises like she’s daring you, but you don’t back down. You nod and her lips part. You think her pupils are dilating. “I see you staring, you know. You’re not subtle.” 

You shrug shamelessly, hands coming up to rest on her bare thighs. She gasps as the touch. You think she must be so sensitive. “Let me help, please,” you beg, staring up at her. 

She holds your gaze for a second and then obliges, reaching behind her to drag the dress zipper down. Your heart stutters in your chest when the front of the dress loosens and more and more of her pale skin is revealed. She’s wearing what looks like a special kind of bra and you move to touch without even realizing. 

You cup her swollen breast and run your thumb over her nipple through the fabric. Agatha’s breath hitches and she bites her lip, eyes watching you through hooded lashes. 

“Baby,” Agatha says, silently communicating what she needs, and you pull her right breast out over the bra, sit up on your knees, and take her leaking nipple into your mouth. 

Her head falls back and you moan at the taste. It’s so warm and rich and you start suckling, just wanting to bring her some relief. 

“Fuck,” she says sharply and you feel a spark of heat grow inside you. You keep drawing out the milk and her hand comes down to grab your left one and bring it to her other breast. You scrabble with her bra and she eventually gets fed up and reaches behind her to take it off. You have to take your mouth off of her for a second and she whines at the loss of the stimulation, but you quickly make up for it by sucking her other nipple into your mouth. 

The spark has become an ache, but you’re too caught up in the taste of the older woman to care. 

You use your teeth and tug and her fingers bury into your hair, holding you close. You can hear her making small noises and you switch your mindless lapping to a slow, steady rhythm of deep sucks. She brushes your hair out of your face so she can see you better and is perfectly content to watch you like that. 

You move back to the right nipple, but play with the left with your free fingers. She whimpers when you’re particularly rough with a suck and her hips jerk. 

You freeze around her breast and meet her eyes, which are completely glazed over with lust and desire. 

“Please touch me,” she whispers, hands moving down to hike up her dress. “I need it so bad.” 

Who are you to say no? You reach up under her skirt and feel her underwear and you gasp, her nipple dropping out of your mouth. 

She is soaked. Her underwear is dripping. You wouldn’t be surprised if there was a puddle on the bed under her. You almost cum on the spot. 

You slide them to the side and push two fingers in easily, eyes widening at the feeling of her warm and wet walls clenching around you. Agatha inhales above you and drags your mouth back to her nipple. You latch on, resuming your sucking, and you start moving your fingers. You curl with every thrust, teething harder on her nipples and drinking her milk, and she bucks her hips up every time. You rub her clit with your thumb and her moans are getting louder with all the stimulation. 

“Fuck, baby, so good, so close,” she pants. You can feel her getting tighter around you and you increase the pace of your fingers, sucking rougher. 

She cums and it’s explosive. There’s a gush of milk into your mouth and the hand on her other nipple gets drenched. You fuck her through her orgasm, still sucking the remaining milk out of her, until it gets too much and she pushes you off. 

You’re both breathing hard. You can feel how sticky and wet you’ve become between your legs, but you know better than to ask Agatha for help with that now. You're not sure what this even was.

“Feel better?” You joke and she chuckles, ruffling her hair. 

“Yes, thank you, dear. You seemed like you enjoyed that.” 

Now it’s your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I didn’t really know I was into that. Anytime Nicky isn’t around, just call me up.” It’s meant to be a jestful quip, but her eyes darken. 

“You’d like that, wouldn’t you?” She muses and the blush on your face gives you away. “Okay, go back downstairs now and rejoin the party. We’ve both been gone long enough. I need to change clothes.” You start to move but she stops you. “Oh–and sweetheart?” 

You pause and look back at her. Agatha swipes her thumb across your chin and holds it up, milk droplets coating it. Before thinking, you take it into your mouth and suck, much like you had just been doing to her nipples. Her low groan excites you, but she’s right. At the very least, your mom is wondering where you were. 

“Thank you,” she says with genuine gratitude in her voice and you smile. “Now, go.” She playfully swats your shoulder to shoo you away and you bite back the urge to ask if it’ll happen again. 

You glance back when you get to the door just in time to catch a hint of her naked body and you have to force yourself out of the room so you don’t accidentally go back in for more. 

When you go downstairs, your mom immediately finds you. 

“Where have you been?” She asks. “The food is all ready, we’ve already started eating.” 

“Oh, I had to help Agatha with something.” Technically not a lie. 

She purses her lips but can’t complain. “Well, come get some food before it’s all gone.” 

There’s footsteps on the stairs and you look up to find Agatha walking down in a maroon suit and your mouth runs dry. She sees you staring – like always – and gives you a wink. 

“You know, I’m not really hungry,” you say to your mom, completely distracted by the older woman and the taste of her milk that’s still on your tongue. 

[babybeeelle]

I accidently deleted this post, so reupload🥹

Summary : Coucou ! J’avais une demande si tu le veux bien. In episode 4 Rio will join Agatha during the campfire can you do something in this style but it is Reader who will see Agatha, reader is the only one to know the real story about Nicky and of course Agatha loves Reader and she needs her by her side 😌

Warnings - Angst, Agatha will never forgive Rio

Word Count : 1k

The Weight of Scars

The second trial's aftermath was not any less stressful than the first. Seeing Agatha's trauma resurface from the close call with Teen was unnerving to say the least. You could hear the pain in her voice when she begged Rio not to take him with a simple "don't", although the others were completely unaware of the double meaning behind it.

I saw her though. I saw the gaping wound in her heart that could never be mended. I was there after all. The loss of Nicky snapped whatever sanity and sympathy Agatha had left. Even after centuries, the pain was all the same. She didn't only lose Nicky, but she also lost Rio. Even if she would never admit it, I know that she craves the comfort of Death. But pride and grief are always going to hinder her ability to heal, and she'll never confront them. Not by choice anyways.

After Agatha is assured Teen is okay, she went to join the others by the campfire where everyone traded stories of the scars they've collected throughout their lives. She situates herself in the available spot to the right of me. Unfortunately, for Agatha of course, she found herself seated next to her former lover.

Jen asks Agatha about her own battle scars. She shares a story about one of her many infamous witch-killing rituals, which earns some laughs. That's when Rio decided to share a story of her own.

"I've got a scar," she admits.

Uh-oh.

"No you don't," Agatha denied without even glancing over at her, continuing to fix her sleeve after showing the others her knitting needle scar. I begin to think that whatever Rio has to say is going to hit a nerve.

"Yes I do. A long time ago, I loved someone," she began her story of the only scar she has, a scar that cannot be physically healed. "And I had to do something I did not want to do, even though it was my job." She was attempting to rationalize the situation to Agatha, wishing hopefully that after centuries of separation, her lover would see the bounds of her nature, her job, the shackles weigh down her arms. Rio cautiously glances over at her occasionally, trying to read her expression as she finishes, "And it hurt them. She is my scar."

Rio then held eye contact with her, trying to see if she got through to her, even if it was only a little bit. She wanted Agatha to see she had her hands tied. I watched Agatha carefully, as I knew this sensitive topic was going to do no good. Rio and I both see she is trying to avoid eye contact with her, knowing that despite her devoid expressions, her eyes hold all of her emotions. I watch her hands move, almost as if she is unconsciously trying to summon her purple. Agitated, Agatha gets up from her spot as she exhales, "I'm gonna go stretch my legs." She walks off hastily, away from the others. Rio started to move, wanting to go after her, but I shook my head to express to her that it wasn’t a good idea. That she needs the time to cool off. I stood up, lightly squeezing Rio's shoulder to comfort her.

She knew I never blamed her. Rio did everything she could to give him borrowed time. We had accepted Nicky's fate long before he passed, we mourned together, but Agatha refused. She did everything in her power to find a way to keep him alive. Agatha was so lost in her denial, her mission to save our son, to see that there was no other way, to see that Rio didn't have a choice. The aftermath of Nicky's death was even more painful than losing Nicky. I was put into a situation where I had figure out how to handle the split of my partners. Rio made the decision for me. She knew Agatha was going to need me more than ever. But Rio never lost me. In the moments when Agatha rested, I would check up on Rio. Making sure she knew I'd never leave her alone.

I trailed behind Agatha. When we were out of the eyes and ears of the others, we stopped.

As I close the space between us, I turn her around to face me. I reach out to place my hand to her cheek. As I look into her distressed, blue eyes, I see her facade crumble. I quickly pull her into my arms, wrapping her into a familiar comfort she always felt around me. She collapses in my arms as she muffles her sobs into my chest. It physically hurts to see her in this pain. Our bond, so deep, creates a gateway from her heart to mine. I feel her pain, her grief, her torment. I feel the restless resentment she holds towards Rio.

"I will never forgive her," she whispers, her voice trembling under the weight of her pain. Tears streak down her face, paths were made that glisten in the moonlight.

Pulling us apart to hold her face, I wipe her tears from her cheeks, and I whisper back with a heavy heart, "I know." Nose to nose, I go to kiss her softly, hoping to lighten her pain. When our lips meet, I'm hesitant at first, unsure if this was what she needs. She closes the space between us, deepening the kiss. Our kisses are delicate, slow, passionate, as I feel the tides of her emotions rushing in.

I feel my other lover hiding in the shadows, her heart aching from the bitter truth, wishing most to change the past.