#wanda and agatha are such a dear ship to me

[lunaechaos]

laughing like a mad woman now because i really brought this predicament upon myself [writing three wandagatha fanfics simultaneously]

[ginnsbaker]

In Losing Grip On Sinking Ships (16/22)

Chapter summary: You go through a difficult period following your breakup with Yelena, and you and Wanda end up falling down the rabbit hole for the second time around

Chapter word count: 6.4K | Warnings: Angst, Mild smut | Ship: Wanda x Female Reader

Author's note: Before you say anything, I have a plan. Enjoy :) P.S. My requests are open

AO3 | Masterlist 

Next chapter: Seventeen Part One

--

Sixteen

“And then she kissed you?” Agatha asks. She looks the same way she does when she’s actively participating in gossip, hanging onto every detail of the latest scandal that keeps most people entertained in their insignificant lives.

Wanda solemnly nods, as if validating a piece of tragic news.

“Why aren't you thrilled?” Agatha observes quietly, picking at her tooth with her fingernail. “I mean, doesn't that confirm that she still has feelings for you?”

“You remember what happened last time, right? When she did more than just kiss me?”

Agatha grimaces, “Right, of all places, in our stockroom." Then, her tone morphs into a more probing one, “But, did the kiss feel as if she just wanted to get into your pants?”

Wanda lets out a sigh, her heartbeat quickening as she reminisces about its tenderness. It felt akin to a first kiss—vulnerable, slightly apprehensive, tinged with anxiety, and yet, at the same time familiar—like finding her way back home.

It was perfect in every sense. 

But it was tainted by its very nature. It was a betrayal. And if there were truly raw feelings behind it, then it’s worse—it would mean that you have been emotionally unfaithful to Yelena. 

Wanda may have ruined yet another relationship.

In the midst of her internal struggle, she finally manages to answer Agatha, “It felt like hope,” giving voice to her undeniable feelings for you. “But she’s with Yelena.”

“I never really had faith in that relationship to begin with,” Agatha retorts dismissively, cleaning her hands with a towel before reaching for one of the cookies on display.

“That's a terrible thing to say,” Wanda chides.

“I’m only being honest,” Agatha says, unapologetic in her bluntness. “You were fucking each other like rabbits and then a few weeks later, she gets a girlfriend. That's a classic rebound scenario. I'm surprised the woman she's with allowed herself to be used like that.”

Wanda finds Agatha’s uninhibited words a little offensive, though she understands that their deepening friendship has allowed for such unfiltered honesty between them. Even though she's jealous of Yelena, Wanda understands that she is good for you. She doesn't like how Agatha talks about Yelena as if she's too naive to try a relationship with you.

Wanda feels she can relate with Yelena. Often, love makes us scared that we might never get a second chance, so we choose to take a leap of faith, despite the warning signs.

“So, what are you planning to do about it?” Agatha asks, taking a bite of her favorite cookie. Wanda makes a mental note to deduct that cookie from the stock count.

Wanda shakes her head, replying, “Nothing,”

Agatha pauses mid-chew, her eyes wide with shock. Wanda can't help but observe the crumbs of food lodged in her teeth. “You're not going to seize this opportunity?” Agatha questions, disbelief coating her voice.

“Y/N needs to sort things out,” Wanda lets out a heavy sigh. “Without my interference.”

“You’re not afraid of missing out on this chance?”

Wanda sidesteps Agatha's question with one of her own. “Why are you suddenly supportive? It wasn’t long ago when you couldn't stand her.”

“I’m supportive of you. I’m rooting for your happiness, dear. But I’ve seen you at your worst, and I think you’re putting on a brave face right now.”

Wanda's eyes dip down. Her friend isn’t entirely wrong.

“What happens if she decides to stay with Yelena?” Agatha probes further.

Wanda's response isn't immediate; she takes a moment, seemingly lost in thought, before replying softly, “Then I hope she’ll be very happy with her.” 

Agatha rolls her eyes, because of course, Wanda would say that. Even if you were being served to her on a silver platter, she’d worry for your happiness over her own. 

“And where does that leave you?” Agatha asks, folding her arms across her chest.

Wanda lifts her shoulders in a casual shrug, her face unreadable. “Living life as it comes, I guess. Just one day at a time.”

At this, Agatha decides to drop the subject. She has a strong feeling that Wanda’s just waiting for you to come to her, and when you do, she's certain that Wanda won't maintain this pretense of indifference. As for Wanda, she doesn’t want to obsess over what you’re doing or thinking. She doesn’t want to make the same mistake of hoping for an outcome that only you can decide.

Switching topics, Agatha raises an eyebrow and asks, “And the pup? Is he doing okay?”

Wanda smiles faintly, “I brought him home yesterday.”

“Well, that's a relief,” Agatha remarks. “Do you reckon Sparky masterminded all this to get Y/N to your place at an ungodly hour? Can dogs be that crafty?”

Wanda throws her an incredulous look. “Are you being serious right now?”

A wicked giggle slips from Agatha, spreading until Wanda finds herself laughing along. She doesn't notice the arrival of a guest until the distinct sound of the call bell jars her attention.

It’s Valkyrie, casually leaning against the countertop, looking awkward and so unlike her usual self.

Agatha casts a sly glance at Peter, who's been trying to catch her eye ever since Valkyrie stepped into the cafe. When Agatha isn't around, Peter fills her in on the latest happenings, a reliable source of juicy tidbits. Peter quirks his brows and discreetly nods towards Valkyrie, his mouth miming a silent message. Reading his lips, Agatha pieces together that this is the woman who recently found herself entangled in Wanda's intricate web.

Agatha sweeps her eyes over the woman appreciatively. Not bad. Not bad at all.

Wanda rubs her palms together, a habit she’s developed before taking a customer order. “Hi, Val! What is it for today? We have new beans delivered all the way from Niseko–”

“Actually,” Valkyrie softly cuts her off. “I was hoping we could talk?”

Agatha watches their exchange, an eager twinkle in her eyes. With the pace at which interesting events are unraveling, she may as well pop a bag of microwave popcorn to truly savor the unfolding drama.

Wanda nods and moves away from the counter, temporarily handing the reins to Agatha. They pick a spot in the furthest corner from the kitchen, well out of earshot, much to Agatha's disappointment.

“First off, I owe you an apology,” Valkyrie begins. “I’d blame it on the alcohol, but there’s no excuse for me pressuring you too much to take shots. That wasn’t cool at all. You already said no several times and I ignored you.”

Wanda waves her off casually. “Oh, it's alright. I appreciate the apology, but it wasn't that big of a deal. You couldn't have forced me to drink if I really didn't want to, right?”

Valkyrie's frown dips further at Wanda's easy dismissal of the issue. “No, Wanda. If I'd kept on, I might've pushed you into it even if you didn't want to. I'm just glad Y/N stepped in when she did.”

Something flashes in Wanda’s eyes at the mention of your name. Valkyrie catches it but opts to ignore it for the meantime.

“Yeah, I did feel a bit cornered that night,” Wanda concedes, a smile returning to her face. “But it's water under the bridge now. Was there something else you needed to discuss?”

“You sure don't beat around the bush, do you?” Valkyrie attempts to lighten the mood, but her tension is evident in her shaky voice and the way her fingers fiddle with her watch.

Wanda chuckles. “It's a skill I've been honing lately.”

Taking a deep, measured breath, Valkyrie gathers her courage. "Alright, here it is..."

Wanda tilts her head at her curiously, wondering what it’s about.

“I like you,” Valkyrie blurts out. “I don’t normally confess to someone I’m not even dating, but you’re… incredible. That's how I feel about you and I thought you should know."

“Oh! Uh…” Wanda trails off, blushing at Valkyrie’s confession.

Valkyrie nibbles at her lip, observing as Wanda fumbles to put her thoughts into words. She silently hopes she's left Wanda speechless in a good way.

“There’s… someone,” Wanda manages to utter out eventually. “I've been in love with her for the better part of my life.” Or maybe her whole life, if she’s being brutally honest.

Valkyrie nods, her throat tightening to hold back the sting of rejection. “It's her, isn't it?” she ventures, silently alluding to you.

Wanda diverts her gaze and emits a modest laugh. She must have made her feelings too obvious for anyone to see.

“She’s my ex-wife,” is all the explanation Wanda offers.

“Wow,” Valkyrie looks taken aback by the revelation. “That sounds messy.”

“It's beyond messy,” Wanda retorts.

“Go on,” Valkyrie encourages.

Wanda looks at her, thoughtful. “Are you sure you want to delve into my past? It might take some time.”

Valkyrie smiles, already leaning in closer to signify that she’s all ears. “I made time this morning specifically to talk to you. I want to understand, at least, why I'm being rejected.”

Wanda chuckles softly at the gesture. Collecting her thoughts, she starts to narrate a condensed version of the turbulent history she's had, of how she ruined everything that’s good in her life.

When Wanda wraps up her story, Valkyrie simply says, "Wow, that's... pretty fucking messed up."

“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you sooner,” Wanda admits, biting her lower lip, anxiety swirling in her gaze. She worries that revealing her darkest past may have cost her a budding friendship. “I think I saw your interest, but I didn't want to jump to conclusions and have the wrong idea. I just wanted us to be friends. I still do, if that's okay with you.”

“Of course, I want to be friends with you, Wanda. More than the fact that you’re hot, we have a lot in common too.”

Wanda's cheeks tinge a soft pink at Valkyrie's flippant comment about her being ‘hot’.

“So, friends then?” Valkyrie extends her hand.

Wanda smiles in relief. “Friends.”

***

A phone call rouses you from sleep. You groggily glance at the clock and realize you've overslept.

“It’s done,” your lawyer's voice cuts through the grogginess as soon as you pick up the call.

Disoriented, you squint against the daylight streaming in through the window. “What are you referring to?” you inquire, your voice hoarse from sleep.

“Vision has settled,” she elaborates, her words crisp and distinct. “And he caught a flight to Tokyo last night.”

“He's gone?”

“From what I've heard, he intended to use the settlement money to finance his studies overseas. He won't be returning in the near future. But even if he does decide to cut his trip short, you're safe. He has no legal means to trouble you anymore,” she assures you.

“You've got snitches now?” you quip, your eyes narrowing in suspicion even as the beginnings of a smile tug at the corners of your mouth.

Her laughter rings out through the phone, followed by a breezy, “You're welcome,” before she ends the call.

It's over. A chapter of your past has finally closed. Vision has physically left the city, and you've literally paid your dues. You hadn't realized you were in a kind of self-imposed cage until now, when a sense of liberation pulses through your veins.

Before you can fully indulge in the relief provided by your lawyer's news, however, a persistent knock at your door breaks your reverie. You can't help but wonder who it could be, and how they bypassed the building's security without a notification from the concierge.

As you pull the door open, you find yourself face to face with the last person you expected to see.

“Nat?”

She appears ready to tear you apart. For a moment, the thought crosses your mind, 'this is it, this is how I go, at the hands of my best friend'. Strangely, you're indifferent to whatever she might inflict on you. Having her here at least affords you an opportunity to have a conversation.

Yet, Natasha doesn't respond. She doesn't even spare you a glance. Instead, she brushes past you and starts gathering random items into a large duffel bag she brought along.

“Nat, can you please just talk to me?”

“What for, Y/N? I have nothing to say to you.”

“Yelena broke up with me,” you say.

Natasha scoffs. “Yeah, no kidding.”

“Nat, please,” you plead. “You can’t just cut me out forever. I’m your best–”

“Are you?!” The outburst that tears from her is enough to make you recoil. “Are you my friend, Y/N? I woke up to my sister on my doorstep, in shambles. All thanks to my ‘friend’.”

You wrap your arms around yourself as tremors course through your body. Tears start to flow down your cheeks at the mere mention of Yelena.

“You want to talk? Fine, I’ll talk,” Natasha rages on. “I stood by you through thick and thin. I held your hand through all the shit you went through last year. I brought you into my home. I took care of you. I loved you–” Natasha's voice catches on 'loved', and your heart shatters at her use of the past tense.

“–and you just betrayed me, like I meant nothing. You betrayed my sister like she meant nothing. We both cared about you, Y/N.” Her voice dwindles near the end, her next words coming out just above a whisper. “So, no, we’re not friends. Not anymore.”

“Nat, I’m s–”

“You know what? I can’t fucking do this. I’m just gonna send someone to collect Yelena's things. If I don’t, just throw out her stuff like you did with your relationship. Goodbye, Y/N.”

The door slams shut behind her. You find yourself on the floor, curled into a ball, as you grieve the friendship you’ve known all your life.

***

Dark screens and unreturned messages follow.

Yelena has blocked you on every possible platform, cutting off any form of communication. Natasha hasn't, but she leaves all your messages unread, allowing your calls to go unanswered, seemingly enjoying your desperation. Clint ignores your texts, and Kate only responded once, promising to try and speak to Yelena for you. That was a week ago, and there's been no word since. You didn't think you'd be back in the dark place you were in a year ago, and the worst part is, you brought it on yourself this time.

The only news you get about Yelena is from your own mother. A few days after Yelena left your shared apartment, your mother called to ask what had happened. Apparently, Yelena had told her the news herself and asked her to take care of you and make sure you were alright. Throughout the call, you cried silently, feeling the remnants of Yelena's care for you even after you broke her heart.

And your mother, perennially at odds with handling emotions, simply offered her condolences. Although by doing so, she offered more support than she did when you were weathering your divorce from Wanda the year before. With your latest tragedy out of the way, she proceeded to ask if you could make time to visit Montauk over the holidays.

***

Drinking is… a problem. Again. 

But you approach it with more caution this time. You don’t drink as much at home so you can avoid not showing up at work the next day. Rather, you sneak in a flask in the office, sipping from it from time to time to keep you the right amount of…adrift. You’re too good with numbers that even with a little haze in your head, the alcohol doesn’t interfere with your work. 

It interferes with other thoughts.

***

When Kate finally calls you, you’re in the middle of a disastrous presentation at work. Her words had been brief, only giving you the time (three in the afternoon) and location (The New York Public Library) where she wanted to meet. 

It takes some time for you to locate Kate within the vast elegance of the Rose Main Reading Room. She's tucked away in the northeast corner, engrossed in her work, even on a Sunday. A towering pile of books rises to her eye level on her desk.

“I can’t believe I was wrong about you.” Kate says without looking up as you settle on the vacant seat next to her.

“Wrong about me?” you ask, keeping your voice in a hushed tone.

“I had this fleeting thought that you might actually be a good person.” she says.

Swallowing hard, you struggle to find a response, well aware that Kate is just laying out the facts. What kind of person would cheat on their best friend's sister? What kind of person would throw away years of trust and a lifelong friendship?

“She told you?” you finally manage to ask.

“Yelena didn’t say much,” Kate says with a hint of sorrow. “But I've never seen her look so…” she trails off, struggling to find the right words, and eventually concludes, “She doesn't look like the Yelena I know.”

You’re afraid to ask what she means by that. You haven’t looked in the mirror yourself, in fear of seeing the results of your own wreckage.

“She quit today, you know?” Kate reveals, setting down her pen to give you her full attention. You don't see resentment in her eyes, only caution. This is the most compassion you've been shown since your relationship with Yelena fell apart. 

The news of Yelena's resignation hits you like a punch to the gut. She had a promising career ahead of her, and she'd found a supportive environment in her workplace. It's hard to believe she'd just abandon that so abruptly. You feel a wave of nausea at the thought.

“I sort of saw it coming,” Kate adds. “Not her resignation–God, I tried my best to talk her out of it, but she wouldn't budge. I… I saw you running back to Wanda.”

Your eyes narrow curiously as you regard Kate. “How?” 

Kate sighs, pushing a pile of papers to the side to give you her full attention. “It's not a secret, you know. You might think you're being discreet, but you’re more transparent than you'd like to believe. You’re a completely different person when she’s around. I saw it during the 6-miler event we all joined by chance.”

There’s no point in denying any of that. The weeks that follow after that, you were crying to your mother regarding your conflicted feelings about Wanda. But if you had been aware of the signs as early as then, would things be different somehow?

“I didn't mean for any of this to happen, Kate,” you say, the words sounding weak and inadequate to your own ears.

“I know,” Kate says quietly, and there's a touch of sympathy in her eyes that makes you feel even worse. “But that doesn't change the fact that it did happen. And people are getting hurt because of it.”

You can sense that Kate is one of those people–by hurting Yelena, the girl she clearly loves. 

“I’m… I’m sorry,” you whisper. You wish there was another way to convey how sorry you are–a keyword to make it all go away.

“Yeah, me too. Mostly because I have to tell you that we can no longer be friends.” Kate says, looking genuinely upset about her decision, her gaze dropping to her hands as she twirls the pen between her fingers.

“I know,” you nod, appreciating her honesty. “Thank you.”

“Look, I have no idea how deep your thing with Wanda goes. All I know is you can’t keep running away. You can’t keep hiding behind the comfort of other people.”

You bob your head in acknowledgment, even though you're uncertain how to put her words into practice.

"Can you pass on a message to Yelena for me?" you ask, wringing your hands together nervously.

Kate lets out a sigh, her fingers halting their movement on the pen. “I’ll try. No promises though.”

“Could you tell her that I'm sorry...that I truly loved her?”

A moment of silence follows your request as Kate studies you, her lips pursed. It might seem hypocritical of you to make such a claim, but she refrains from passing judgment. But seeing your bloodshot eyes and your pale chapped lips and the lack of life in you, she thinks there’s probably some truth to it.

***

It takes you an additional week before you summon the courage to visit Wanda's apartment. 

Truth be told, you've been hiding away in shame, confining yourself to either your bedroom or your office, instructing your assistant to keep the door closed and not to disturb you, secluding yourself from the outside world. Aside from interactions at your work, you haven’t talked to anyone. 

A moment of misjudgment led you to lose everything that you were left with when you lost Wanda. But gradually, even as you were beating yourself up over and over again with the dissolution of your relationship with both Romanovs, Wanda became the only one you can think about. You can't escape her pull, no matter how hard you try. 

Eventually, you devolve into nothing more than a compulsion; a compelling need to see Wanda. Which is what brings you here, with your fist poised to knock on the door. But just before your knuckles make contact with the wooden panel, the door swings open, and Wanda's voice unthinkingly spills into the hallway where you stand.

“–let me ask if the neighbor has some sugar–” Wanda halts dead in her tracks as she comes face to face with you.

The timid smile on your face drops as soon as you realize she's not alone. Behind her, comfortably perched on the couch is Valkyrie.

“Seems like you're already entertained. I'll head out,” Valkyrie proposes, getting up on her feet. “I'll pick up my shirt when you come around for the run next week, sound good?”

Wanda nods in a daze to that, her eyes never leaving you.

"No, I should leave," you counter weakly.

“No, Y/N, please stay,” Wanda implores. “See you later, Val. Thanks for the shoes.”

You stiffen and step aside as Valkyrie moves to gather her belongings. When she finally approaches the door, standing next to you, she tilts her head to murmur a parting sentiment intended for your ears only.

“You’ve got it all wrong. I had a spill on my shirt. Don't let her down this time,” she whispers. 

Her words stun you into silence long after she's left.

“Y/N? Please, come in,” Wanda invites you, her voice trembling slightly. Nodding silently, you step inside.

You regard each other quietly, simply observing one another for what feels like an eternity. This isn’t how you imagined things would go when you thought about coming here this morning. You wanted to see Wanda because you needed to be with her. But now, all you can think about is Wanda and Valkyrie being all over each other.

“It’s been awhile,” Wanda offers, not really sure how to begin as you stay awkwardly near the door–as if you’re strategically placing yourself there in case you decide you want to run. She studies you, attempting to read your expression, to figure out what this could be about. She’s been thinking about the thumb drive that contained the video of her and Vision. Did you finally see it? Did you decide to pay him off?

Or is this about Yelena? Wanda’s been thinking if you came clean to your girlfriend about the kiss, wondering if you've managed to patch things up, and if Yelena has forgiven you.

If you’ve chosen to be with Yelena after all.

“Yeah, Valkyrie was here pretty early, wasn't she?” you state more than ask, a hint of bitterness edging your words. You glance at your watch, adding, “At 6:30 in the morning, no less.”

Wanda furrows her brows at your tone, as though she's on the receiving end of an unfounded accusation.

“She was on her morning run, dropped by to hand over a pair of shoes from her club's sponsor. Nothing more,” she explains.

You snort, "Sounds awfully convenient."

Rather than entertain your skepticism further, Wanda redirects the conversation elsewhere. What you presume about her and Valkyrie is the last of her worries right now.

“Why are you here, Y/N?” Wanda asks, her voice a little unsure. When your eyes meet hers, Wanda sees the signs of sleepless nights and a certain emptiness that paints a clear picture.

You and Yelena are done.

And it's breaking you. Her heart aches, even knowing that you're now, technically, available. She never wanted this for you. And she can't help but feel that she messed up your happiness once again.

“I just... I needed to see you,” you admit with a half-hearted shrug. “Looks like you didn't waste any time though.”

“Valkyrie and I are just friends,” Wanda insists, the edge of her patience beginning to fray.

“You seriously think I'll believe that?” you shoot back.

Wanda heaves a sigh, exasperation seeping into her tone. “Believe whatever you want, Y/N. Doesn't change the truth.”

“She was wearing your shirt.” you highlight, not quite ready to drop the issue.

“She spilled coffee on herself. I gave her a clean one. That's it.”

“And I'm supposed to accept that at face value?” you challenge, an eyebrow arched skeptically in her direction.

“Yes, you are!” Wanda says firmly. “Because it's the truth. I wouldn't lie to you.”

I wouldn't lie to you. Her words reverberate within your skull, playing on repeat like a broken record.

And that's the crux of it, isn't it? You're not sure whether you can still believe her.

“Y/N, please,” Wanda's plea rings out, sounding lost and desperate. She isn't even certain what she's asking for. What she does know is that you're teetering on the edge of a breakdown, still reeling from the pain of your breakup. 

You don’t look like you’re in the right mindset to talk about what you’re going through. About how you both left things. And as much as Wanda wants to figure this out with you, she can’t do anything if you’re not willing to trust her.

“Wouldn’t lie to me?” you repeat, your voice laced with sarcasm and a painful sort of humor. “Alright, let's put that to the test, shall we?”

Wanda's throat tightens. She's unsure where you're heading with this.

“Yelena and I broke up. She left me that same morning,” you start off casually, as if discussing the weather. “Because she deserved better. Because I am, as it turns out, selfish and deceitful, right?”

“No–”

“You said you wouldn’t lie to me.”

Wanda's mouth snaps shut at your words, a sense of finality creeping into her. “...yes,” she admits quietly.

Slowly, you advance towards Wanda, your steps intentional and calculated. She remains rooted in her spot, refusing to back down.

“Do you feel happy that Yelena and I have broken up?” you ask.

Wanda looks hurt by your question. "Y/N, no, of course not–”

Your stoic expression tells her you're not buying it.

“Do you regret our kiss?” you probe, stepping closer, until Wanda finds herself backed against the wall. You lean in, foreheads almost touching, your dark eyes daring her to lie to you.

Wanda takes her time to answer, but when she finally does, her expression is resolute, as though she's trying to prove a point to you. “No, I don’t regret it,” she murmurs, her words a mere breath against your lips. Wanda looks so taken by the hungry look in your eyes that she fails to see what comes next.

The kiss this time is a stark contrast from the last. There’s an edge of danger to it, almost like the kiss that started Wanda’s downfall that culminated in a near-death experience, the kiss that was punishing and every bit of the hatred you harbored for her. 

But there's also a desperation to it–as if you're sinking and this kiss is your lifeline; a frayed, ragged lifeline that could only be the one to pull you back to the surface. 

As Wanda's head hits the wall with a soft thud, a pang of concern breaks through the haze of your fervor. Swiftly, you slide your hand between her head and the hard concrete, cushioning her as the urgency of your kiss escalates. Wanda almost sobs at the subtle tenderness behind your action, the considerate gesture leaving her somewhat taken aback, considering the harsh exchange you'd had just moments before.

No, this is nothing like your previous encounter.

You're not biting down to break skin. Your fingers aren't pressing into her hips hard enough to leave bruises. Your tongue isn't demanding or invasive, it's simply there, matching her rhythm and intensity. Wanda is unable to do anything but moan under you and rub her thighs together to relieve the pressure that’s building there.

Yet, you still don’t let her touch you. You don’t let her fingers venture up your stomach from under your shirt. Instead, you catch her hands, lacing your fingers through hers, and pull her arms above her head. All the while, your lips deftly trace a path down her throat. It’s soft and wet and so utterly delicate–everything Wanda thinks she hasn’t earned.

Nothing prepares her for the moment your hand makes contact with her core, even through the fabric of her shorts. She realizes just how much you’ve been holding back when you cup her forcefully, groaning from the heat and dampness that hits your palm.

If this means what Wanda thinks it means, she doesn’t want it to happen against the wall of her living room.

“Y/N?” she whispers raggedly in your ear, feeling the heel of your hand starting to grind against her clit. 

“Yeah…?” you moan against her heated cheek as your fingers slips beneath her panties and find wet, wiry curls.

“Fuck–” Wanda whimpers at the contact. “B-Bedroom, please.”

Following her lead, you hoist Wanda up and her legs instinctively coil around your waist. She directs you towards her bedroom with verbal cues, realizing you're far too engrossed in lavishing attention on the skin just above her breasts to care about bumping into furniture. Your hand drifts up her back, finding the clasp of her bra and skillfully unfastening it.

And then no words are spoken at all after that.

***

Wanda stirs awake near noon, realizing that she's skipped her therapy appointment. Instinctively, her hands reach out to the area beside her, expecting to feel your warmth. However, she is greeted only by the cool sheets of the bed, the space vacant.

You're gone.

While she had been lost in dreams where she had a second chance at the life she yearned to have with you, you had quietly dressed and slipped out of her apartment, leaving no trace or note behind. You had vanished as silently and swiftly as a dream at daybreak.

Wanda arches her back, mimicking the languid stretch of a cat, the resulting pops of her spine easing the tension more than the action itself. The sex was… phenomenal. She couldn’t think of a better word to describe it.

When a bit of the afterglow wears off, she is haunted by a question: What happens now?

More importantly, are you coming back? Or is this a one-time thing for you?

With a weighty sigh, Wanda allows herself to collapse back onto the mattress. Doubt creeps in as she begins to question whether her decision to let this unfold was the right one. After all, you’ve both been down this path before, sex was not a magic remedy that mended everything. 

What she couldn’t deny, however, is how gentle you were with her. You were making love to her, and nothing could sway Wanda from this belief. It sparks a tiny ray of hope within her that perhaps this time, you're ready to give her another chance.

Maybe, just maybe, you're open to trying again.

Yet, the vacant space next to her feels almost accusatory. Wanda has never been fond of waiting. But it’s the only thing she can do for now.

After all, beggars can’t be choosers.

***

The call from her therapist comes at around nine in the evening. Wanda considers it a little unprofessional, given the late hour, but she supposes that Calliope sees at least a dozen patients a day. Truthfully, she’s been anticipating this call all day, especially after she deliberately skipped her session to–

A soft snore escapes from your half-open mouth, drawing Wanda’s attention momentarily.

–spend time with you. Wanda can’t explain it, but she’s afraid to bring this up to Calliope. And she knows that if she sees Calliope or talks to her, it would open the floodgates and everything will come rushing out before she can stop them.

She's missed two calls now, but the phone in her hand vibrates again and Calliope’s name stares back at her.

Taking a deep breath, Wanda finally picks up.

“Hello, Wanda?”

“Hi,” Wanda replies, aiming to sound cheerful.

Calliope wastes no time getting to the purpose of this call. “You missed this morning’s session. Did something happen?”

Wanda's gaze drifts to you, sleeping soundly, your hair a mess as it spreads out in every direction. The sheets have slid down, exposing your bare back in a manner that makes her want to abandon the call and join you.

“Oh, uh... I just got tied up at the cafe. Sorry for not informing your secretary,” she hastily lies.

“So, everything's okay then?”

“Yes,” Wanda confirms, her eyes never leaving you as she replies honestly this time. Calliope seems satisfied with that and proceeds to book a slot for Wanda two days hence before ending the call.

You open an eye at her lazily, your voice muffled by the pillow as you ask, “Who was it?”

“No one,” Wanda says without batting an eye. “Just a supplier for the coffee shop.”

Your response is a drowsy murmur, your face sinking deeper into the pillow as you pursue the lingering traces of Wanda's scent. A smile tugs at Wanda's lips at the innocence of the gesture, despite the fact that you’re very naked under the covers. She hadn’t anticipated she’d see you again so soon, moreso that she’d sleep with you again right away when she does. But you had showed up unannounced, yet again, and casually asked Wanda if she'd eaten dinner already. Wanda had barely gotten the word ‘yes’ out, before you’re urgently reaching out and snatching her into a hungry kiss.

And then it was all lips and touches and her coming into your mouth three times until she had to literally cover herself with her hand just to get you to stop. 

Wanda's cheeks warm as she surrenders to the memory of your fervent reunion from only a few hours prior, but your sleep-laden murmurings, muffled as they are by the pillow your face is buried in, yank her back to the present. She chuckles lightly and perches herself at the edge of the bed, drawing a line along your back with her fingertips, raising goosebumps along the path.

"Can you repeat that?" she prompts, massaging your neck.

You lift your head slightly, your eyelids still heavy with sleep. “I said–do you need me to go?”

Wanda shakes her head, even though you can't see her. “Let’s just sleep,” she whispers.

Wanda gets up to remove her shirt over her head. Then, she slides back under the sheets and curls up against you. She presses her bare body to your back, fitting herself perfectly against your shape. Your warmth seeps into her, filling the cold spots that your absence had left behind.

Wanda notes that this is the first time you’re willing to stay since before you found out she cheated on you. She closes her eyes and allows herself to drift away. If you’re staying, then there's an opportunity to talk about this tomorrow.

***

Leaving a slumbering Wanda behind is not easy. You have to gingerly disentangle yourself from her grip to avoid waking her up. Initially, sleeping with Wanda was not part of your plan, but seeing her with Valkyrie had stirred a sense of jealousy within you that led to a powerful desire to claim Wanda as yours.

And so it kept happening, again and again–like a drug you just couldn't shake off.

You haven't really thought about what it all means. To be honest, you've been actively avoiding it. A week of overthinking has left you stuck at a dead-end, feeling numb and desperate to feel something, anything at all.

And in all this, Wanda is the only one who seems to fill the void, the only one who doesn't make you feel so alone.

***

“Dr. Williams?” Pietro says hesitantly as he picks up the call.

“Hi, Pietro. I hope I'm not catching you at a bad time,” comes Calliope's voice, clear and loud.

“No, I was just–did we have a scheduled meeting that slipped my mind?” he inquires, wondering about the suddenness of this call. 

“We didn't,” Calliope assures him. “I'm actually calling about Wanda. Have you had a chance to speak with her recently?”

Pietro doesn’t like the sound of this. “No, I haven’t. Is she okay?”

“She missed her appointment this morning without notice. It’s the second time in a row. And I just got off the phone with her… she was deflective.”

“I'll check in with her,” Pietro promptly assures, before adding more softly, “Should I be worried?”

“She has agreed to meet me on Tuesday,” Calliope replies, deftly skirting around his question. “So, it may not be a pressing matter. I apologize for disturbing you.”

“No problem at all, Dr. Williams. Feel free to call anytime.”

As the call ends, Pietro is left alone with his thoughts. His mind is whirring with worry for Wanda, and he sits there for a moment, lost in thought. With a sigh, he places his phone back on the coffee table, a frown etching itself onto his face.

Feeling restless, he picks up his phone again, fingers swiping the screen with a certain degree of nervousness. His gallery opens up, a collection of countless memories frozen in pixels. He scrolls through it, stopping at a particular picture that still haunts him.

It's a hard image to look at, a memory of a particularly painful day. But he keeps it, just in case he needs it, a ghost hiding in his phone.

He knows, if push comes to shove, he has this to fall back on.

Taglist: @blackluthxr | @esposadejoyhuerta | @secretbackrooms | @justgotlizzied , @casquinhaa | @marvelwomen-simp | @sunsol-22 | @wandanatlov3r | @kyaraderuwez | @justyourwritter69 | @stanolsevans | @aliherreraaa | @diaryoflife| @justagurlwholikes | @lizziesplant | @cowxpoke | @sokovianbaby | @swiftie1-0-1

[aparticularbandit]

The Rehabilitation of Agatha Harkness: Prologue

Summary: Being a ghost isn't all it's cracked up to be.

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

next chapter

Being a ghost, admittedly, is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Sure, sure, she could haunt a few people – Jen, in particular, would be hilarious – Look, you’re unbound!  But now you’re stuck with me forever! Hahahaha! – but that would get boring after a while.  You can only knock so many shitty edible candles off a shelf before it gets old.  She’s not a cat, after all.

Besides, there really aren’t that many people Agatha wants to haunt.  In fact, the one she wants most is apparently already dead, which defeats the purpose.  Maybe she should be more surprised that Wanda isn’t a ghost, haunting one of her precious baby boys.  But that would involve knowing that one or the other had survived, and from what Agatha picks up here and there, she doesn’t seem to have known.

Pity.

(Agatha doesn’t dwell on that thought.  She doesn’t like the implications.)

Which really just leaves the boy.

Teen.

Billy.

Who, also admittedly, has enough going on without having a ghost hanging around, but let’s be real here, that’s precisely why he needs her.  Because otherwise he’s going to get his head up his ass about accidentally killing all those people and then he’s going to start having those stupid teenage feelings where he blames himself for everything and then he’s going to start thinking he’s a horrible person when really he’s just an average person with very strong powers that he doesn’t know how to control.

Like a lot of baby witches.

How many witches could have been saved if they believed Lilia?  (How many more could have been saved if she’d stopped running when others stopped listening?)

How many witches could Alice have protected if she hadn’t denied the very existence of magic?  (And how could she deny it when it crackles along the skin and in the veins?  Every witch worth their salt can feel it!  And yet.)

How many witches – and non-witches – could Jen have helped if she’d realized she still had the ability to craft potions the same way she always did?  (How many more if her magic hadn’t been bound?)

Okay, so maybe not just baby witches.

Control requires lessons from a teacher who knows what they’re doing, who has been there, who has enough power of their own to prevent disaster from occurring while the baby witch tests their wings – to catch them when they fall (because they will always, inevitably, fall).

Normally, that person is someone within the family lineage, since most witchcraft is passed down from one to the other.  Even outside of blood magic, usually there is someone within the family with the unique focus that their descendant holds.  In Billy’s case, that would be his dear departed mother.  Wanda, however, if found early enough, would likely have an upbringing much more similar to Lilia’s – her family would find a witch (or coven) who could train her, and she would learn from her.  Of course, then she might not have become the Scarlet Witch.

Dominoes and time and wibbly-wobbly bullshit with one thing leading into the other and something about the flap of a butterfly’s wings causing hurricanes and destruction and why, exactly, is it always destruction?  Why can’t the flap of a butterfly’s wings cause a soft wind to carry a ship safely into harbor?  Why is it always bad when someone steps in and changes something about the past?

….

She’s getting a little off track here.

The point is that little Billy Maximoff, who is not so little anymore, needs a teacher if he’s going to keep from killing people in the future.

And he’s going to need someone to blame so that he can keep that holier than thou heroism about him.

Which he doesn’t need, exactly, and it’s going to get torn away from him eventually, but it seems like the not killing thing is a really big deal to him, and he’ll probably have a whole identity crisis if he realizes he’s killed anyone by accident, so it would be better to pop on over and—

~

Being a ghost, admittedly, is not all it’s cracked up to be.

Most people would think that living forever would mean having a lot of friends, but really it means that everyone else dies, and you’re left behind while the world moves on as though you’re nothing more than a thorn in its side.

Billy Maximoff, it seems, is a mixture of two things.

And, no, she does not mean Billy Maximoff and William Kaplan.

One of them is that judgmental, holier than thou prick that was once his mother.

The other….

Well. Agatha will hang around with him for a little while longer.  At least he won’t be boring.

[imdoingsortagay]

For the Valentine’s Day prompts: 26 with Agatha <3

The Little Things in Life

26. “This reminded me of you.”

word count: 1.1

Love just never seemed to be in the books for Agatha and she had grown used to that. The many years of hiding out from people who wanted to harm her taught her that all that she needed was herself and no other person, that is thought until she had you one day. 

It felt like something in all those cheesy romantic Comedies if she has to be honest. Agatha has volunteered to grocery shop for Wanda while she and vision were at home enjoying being brand new parents to twin sons. She didn’t have anything else do to since she was off work for the day so might as well be helpful to her friend. After a good 10 minutes of shopping and you had gotten her attention by looking at all of the different options for milk. She didn’t blame you cause there was alot. 

“ you know for a beverage like milk, I don’t get why we need so many variations,” Agatha says and you jump a little at not seeing her approach you. 

“ Oh my god,” you squeal, not noticing the brunette pop up next to you, too zoned out in the milk section trying to choose one. 

“ Oh my god, I didn’t mean to scare you-” 

“ It’s fine all fine miss,” you pause to let her introduce herself.

“ Harkness, my name is Agatha Harkness and you must be new in town dear. I know practically everyone in town and I don’t recall seeing you”. 

“ y/n, and yeah this is my second day here in town but this is my first time shopping for groceries without a roommate to help me. Never thought I'd struggle to buy milk of all things.” 

Though Agatha had gotten all the groceries for herself and the Maximoffs, taking some time out of her day to help you wouldn’t hurt at all. 

That one conversation leads to what she considers to this day to be a love story ever after years of just being on her own. She never failed to mention her love for you every day and today was one of those days, as she made her weekly trip to the flower shop in town the owner of the shop had just recently gotten a new order of flowers. 

“ Are these new flowers today Mr. Mansfield?” 

“Always a good eye to notice new things, Harkness,” he says, “ Lucy got a recommendation from our grandson to plant these for a crush of his and we decided it would be a good idea to add them to the shop as well”. God did the older witch love this flower ship and the flowers they had?

20 more minutes of small talk and the witch left with a bouquet for you, one of your favorite drinks, and a cute little stuffed animal that you talk a lot about and she heads off with a smile on her face. Her way of showing her love to you was always gifted and she never failed to notice the way your eyes lit up and how happy her heart felt when you gave her a big hug. 

Once she comes back home, Agatha is greeted at the door by Ebony, who purred in delight to see her back before leaving her to go do his daily exploring. She searches for you all over the house until she finds you in the garage, getting some laundry done. While she would have wanted to surprise you, the sound of the door opening immediately got your attention to greet her with a hug. 

“ Aggie my love bug,” you squeal in delight, always missing her even when she’s been gone a couple of hours. 

“ Did Ebony make sure to protect you from any harm while I was gone ?” 

“ Well, he did until the Minimoffs came over to pick up some stuff for their mom and he just had to act all cute,” you dramatically roll your eyes, and your girlfriend giggles. For a cat who always tried to act like he ruled the house, he seemed to crumble when it came to little attention.

“Ebony,” Agatha starts while grabbing the young cat,” how many times do I tell you that you need to protect my woman here from any danger? I might just have to reduce your pay from a couple treats a week if you continue with this work ethic my dear ebony,” and the cat meows back at the older woman. You giggle at how a strict, mean-looking woman like Agatha Harkness could look so soft and adorable lecturing her cat. 

Once Agatha made sure the Cat understood that she met business, your girlfriend took your hand to lead you to the kitchen where you saw a bouquet of purple Peony flowers, another squishmallow to add to your growing collection, and what seems to be one of your favorite coffee drinks from the local coffee shop. 

“ Did you buy me all this?” and she nods. 

“ Agatha my love, you didn’t even need to buy me all this stuff,” You say looking at the beautiful bouquet she got, the pretty light purple catching your eye. A small squishmallow that you had been looking to buy for the past couple of weeks but never seem to be able to find as everyone seemed to want it and an iced coffee from the shop you go to before heading to work. 

“ This reminded me of you,” she starts,” coffee to treat my baby, the silly stuffed animal that I know you’ve been trying to find in your free time, and the bouquet of Peonies to show all of the love that I have for you. All these little things just remind me about my infinite love for you and I wanted to treat my best girl.” 

Both of you were standing in the kitchen crying, Agatha had always been so fearful and scared of love that when you had come into her life that day in the grocery store, she was forever thankful that she had you in her life after years of being alone. 

Before Agatha started talking more, you placed your lips on hers, showing her that she was loved by you, and how much you appreciated her. After a couple of minutes of an intense makeout session, she pulls you away from her, needing to get some air and she giggles at the look on your face. 

“ I love you aggie,” you tell her. 

“ Love you too sweet y/n,” she says back.

At this moment Agatha realized that It was all the little things that made her so happy to have you in her life.

[p-taryn-dactyl]

For the prompts, 44 with harximoff maybe?

(I like your Wanda a lot. You write her so well.)

hi! thank you so much, i love writing for Wanda lol. this is my first time writing for harximoff and since I dont really ship it, i kinda made this into an AU? psychiatrist!Agatha and author!Wanda, i hope it’s okay, i just thought those jobs fit them the best!

word count: 702 (ik it’s not that long, I’m sorry)

pairing(s): agatha harkness x wanda maximoff

44: I’ll sleep when I’m dead

Sleep When Dead

Sighing, Agatha got out of bed, dragging her feet across the cold wood floors until she could see the light filtering out from under the office door. Gently, she pushed the door open, eyes growing fond as they landed on her wife. Her wife who was tirelessly typing away on a typewriter, a gift from Agatha for their tenth anniversary, the clacking ringing through the air. Agatha leaned against the doorway, basking in the intensely focused air that radiated from Wanda. Her dark curls were pulled up into a messy bun, coils falling out and brushing the nape of her neck, bouncing with every excited click of Wanda’s fingers. Slowly, after a few minutes, Wanda seemed to notice the presence in the room. Pausing with the faux excuse of getting a new sheet of paper, Wanda turned around and sent Agatha a smile. 

“zdravo ljubavi,” she whispered, exhaustion evident in her tone. Agatha smiled softly, moving from her place at the door to wrap her arms around Wanda’s torso, resting her chin on her wife’s shoulder as she returned to writing. She placed a gentle kiss on Wanda’s neck before speaking. 

“The bed's getting cold without you, libe,” Wanda’s typing only slowed a fraction, “When were you planning to join me?” 

Wanda continued typing before sighing and stopping. 

“I had a burst of inspiration while showering and I just had to write it down, you know how hard this book has been for me.” 

Agatha nodded. She did. Ever since Wanda’s first book, No Strings On Me, a chilling retelling of the beloved story of Pinochio, became a New York Times best seller - with practically every book store’s shelves clearing within a month of the release, Wanda’s agent had been pressing her to release a new novel. Not a sequel necessarily but another book written with the magic that only Wanda seemed to have. Wanda claimed it wasn’t her talent that got her to where she is but her typewriter, always saying that you could write absolute horsehit and the typewriter would turn it into gold. 

“I do, darling, but stressing yourself and losing sleep isn’t the answer. Come with me back to sleep and after we wake up and have breakfast, you can write while I look over medication and transfer release forms.” 

Wanda contemplated this, a smile growing on her lips. She loved the days where she and Agatha worked silently in the same room, soft music in the air from Agatha’s record player she refuses to get rid of. But a trickle of disappointment interrupted her happy thoughts, making her lean back against Agatha. 

“Thank you, Aggie but I need to finish this chapter, it won’t take long I promise!”

Agatha sighed, shaking her head. She played with the fallen curls of Wanda’s bun, eyes starting to droop from exhaustion. 

“You need to sleep, Wanda.”

Her wife chuckled, humor sparking her dark eyes. 

“I’ll sleep when I’m dead, žena.” 

Agatha rolled her eyes, nipping at Wanda’s ear, making her wife squeak in surprise, before standing up straight again. 

“I did not go through twelve years of learning how the brain works for you to brush off your health. You can finish your chapter in the morning, my dear, just write down your thoughts and come to bed.”

Not wanting Agatha to go on another rant about the effects of sleep deprivation on the growth and removal of toxins of the brain and also hearing the desperate tone her wife was probably purposefully emphasizing, Wanda grabbed her fancy ink pen, scribbling down the plot twist on a sticky note. She stood up, letting Agatha hold her hand as she made her way to the bedroom. Her last thought as her head hit the pillows was that Agatha was probably going to “forget” to wake her up in the morning to continue writing. Wanda found that she wasn’t bothered by this thought as sleep wrapped itself around her like a comforting hug. 

Agatha watched as her wife fell into a deep sleep, carefully leaning across her to turn off the alarm on Wanda’s phone. She wrapped her arms around Wanda and fell asleep to the sound of her wife’s heartbeat.

a/n: i hope you enjoyed this! It’s my first time writing for harximoff so it might be a bit choppy but thank you for reading!!

[caroldantops]

in the dark since the day we met (ii) || a.h.

ship: evil stepmother!agatha harkness x fem!reader

warnings: 18+ only; dark fantasy au (stepcest, manipulation, corruption, subtle brainwaashing), smut in future parts

part i  ▪  part ii (you’re here!)  ▪  part iii  ▪  part iv - finale  ▪ bonus

When Agatha said she was taking you to her old cottage, you expected it to be on the outskirts of the city, or maybe even a nearby village.

You didn’t expect it to be buried deep in the forest, way off the beaten path. No one would ever accidentally stumble upon it.

Agatha let’s you explore as she unpacks, and you look in fascination at all of the trinkets that stuff her home to the brim.

Crystals, dried herbs, jars and jars of miscellaneous things.

Agatha doesn’t say anything about them, just watching how you curiously investigate everything you find.

The books especially interest you, dusty from Agatha’s absence, but the spines still look well worn.

You open one as Agatha starts to make you dinner, gasping with fascination as you realize that these are filled with potions and spells.

“Something wrong, dear?” Agatha asks, not looking up from the vegetables she’s chopping.

“Do you…practice this?”

“Practice what, darling? Archery? You’re going to have to be more specific.”

“Witchcraft,” you whisper quietly. You’ve always heard rumors of witches in the kingdom. People heavily believed that the woman who worked at the apothecary, Wanda, was one, but no one could ever prove anything.

Truth be told, the stories of the supposed evil women…fascinated you. You never understood why the kingdoms banished them, only to then be shocked when they had curses placed upon them. 

Most people now just regarded them as tall tales. But now as you trace the runes you cannot decipher upon the stained pages, you’re confronted with the fact that you’re much closer to a witch than you ever thought you would be. 

“You’re a smart girl, what do you think?” Agatha chuckles, moving toward the table to see which book you’re reading. You realize that there are still chopping noises, and look up to see the knife Agatha was using grasped in a purple mist. You turn back to Agatha who smirks at your curiosity. 

“Does father know?” 

“Your father has witnessed me use my powers, yes,” Agatha chooses her words carefully. “As you can imagine, though, it’s not common knowledge. His advisors would have never approved of the marriage if they had known.” 

“Don’t worry, I would never tell a soul. On one condition.” 

“Oh? My girl has conditions now?” Agatha raises an eyebrow playfully. “Maybe you’re ready to rule after all. What are your terms, dearest princess?” 

“I want to learn.” 

Although the innate magic that is passed down through generations of witches will never be yours, Agatha agrees to teach you the more practical magic over your few weeks together. 

You’re certainly not a natural at it, but you pick up a lot of it quickly, especially with Agatha’s encouragement. 

The two of you would often sit at the little dining table, Agatha flipping through other things while you study the books carefully. 

If you started to look confused or frustrated, she would always lean over and stroke your hair, giving you a soft kiss on the forehead and telling you not to worry, you’re a clever girl, you’ll get it eventually.

The kisses always left behind that ephemeral purple mist, spinning around your head, immediately relaxing you. 

Every time you prepare a potion correctly or are able to recite spell meanings back to her, she praises you with a, “Good girl!” bringing you a pleasant warmth that wraps nicely around your body. 

Bonding over Agatha taking you under her wing brings the two of you much closer. Though you’re eager to return to your home soon, you find yourself realizing that you’re going to miss being in such closer quarters with Agatha. 

Sharing the tiny space, only really meant for one witch, makes your heart race in ways you’re sure it shouldn’t. Especially when there’s only enough room for one bed, and even that isn’t large enough to avoid bumping against Agatha in the night. 

Agatha comments that you’re a much nicer bed-mate than your father, and you laugh at the comment as she tucks herself closer to your body, arm hanging loosely around your waist. Lips against your shoulder and purple mist dancing around the room is the last thing you remember before falling asleep, dreaming of what it would be like if you didn’t have to return to your father’s annoying advisors, and to stay like this forever. 

(next part)

[saintprinsessa]

Feeling You: Wanda x Fem!reader

Summary: You were in the middle of a war zone, the Avengers had found Hydra’s base and planned on attacking them by surprise, but the plans didn´t go as initially thought.

You saw how Wanda was in danger and you just went to help her.

Even if it cost you everything.

Trigger warning: Explicit descriptions of serious injuries (broken bones and burns), just a bad word, a little self-consciousness, and a lot of angst.

Words: +5000 (Got carried away)

Author´s note:

I don´t love this one, it made my heart ache a bit tho.

This takes place when Vision was still awkward with the Avengers, so he is going to talk with more estimation.

Also more Agatha ones are coming! :)

Any mistakes are on me and me only!

Anyways, please enjoy!

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

The team was trapped, you were going in front, trying to clean the way to give access to Cap and Widow, they needed to enter the building and destroy the heart of it.

While fighting some guards, you looked up instinctively and saw Wanda attacking from a high position in the air, throwing energy blasts towards some armored trucks.

She is safe.

A bad feeling hit your gut, and your eyes searched around the field.

They landed on a guy who was standing on a tall rock not so far from you.

Before you could react, he shot an electric net, which captured Wanda, instantly wrapping leaving her motionless and shocking her until she was unconscious.

With widened eyes, following her all the time, you ran into the guy, throwing him into the nearest tree, knocking him over, and ran to catch Wanda.

fuckfuckfuckfuckfuck.

You gave yourself an electromagnetic impulse, and then your body was collapsing into Wanda’s in the air, but as soon as you touched her, the electric shot went through you, you shut your eyes tight and groaned.

You grabbed the net, your eyes started blooming with light, and with an inhuman effort, you tore it from her body, making her fall from you.

The net was giving you electric shots but you did your best to let Wanda land without her getting hurt.

Her body landed gracefully.

Yours not.

You were like a ragdoll being thrown into the ground, your ribs crunched, twisting inside you and making your organs turn, one of your arms twisted backward, you grunted loudly as your head hit the ground in a bumping motion, and you were dragged various meters, the hard rock floor cutting through your skin and bruising you.

Slightly dizzy, you managed to lift your head.

You needed to see if Wanda was okay.

And when you saw her chest rising slowly, you let go a relieved sigh.

Widow, Cap, and Bruce screamed at you, and by the time you were processing what they said, an explosion was the last thing you heard.

And then everything went black.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda jolted awake terrified, breathing sharply, holding the sheets for her dear life.

What happened?

She cleaned some of the sweat on her forehead and started to ease her nerves, trying to calm herself.

Wanda left her room and went to the kitchen, the halls of the Avenger’s tower were empty.

Strange.

When she arrived, they were all gathered in there, all with worried looks on their faces, some facing the ground, some staring at something.

And then, the realization hit her.

Someone was carrying her back to the ship, in the middle of all the shouting and explosions, she saw that they were winning, she could remember that something hit her and she lost balance, but she was confused, she was falling from high, why her body was unharmed?

Then she saw another body being carried near her, and she quickly recognized who it was.

You.

But she couldn’t see your face, it was blurry and fading, your body seemed...

Lifeless.

Then she fainted.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“Where is (y/n)?”

The question was hesitant, almost like a whisper, and bit her bottom lip.

Maybe she just didn’t want to hear the answer to that question.

Wanda searched between all of them, they looked at each other with sad faces.

Clint avoided her eyes, Natasha was fiddling her fingers, lost in her mind; Cap looked at her but quickly returned his gaze to the floor.

Vision was leaning onto the counter with his arms folded.

“Vision.”

He flinched, Wanda used a stern tone, not a good sign.

“Where is (y/n)?”

Her thick sokovian accent slipped, the question was venenous, her eyes flashed red for a second.

Vision couldn’t bear it anymore, that was too much pressure.

“This compromises me a lot, Wanda, (y/n) fervently asked us to not tell you.”

He said nervous, clasping his hands together while he approached her.

“She is currently at Dr. Banner´s laboratory.”

As soon the sentence left his mouth, Wanda hurried off the room.

Vision turned around to watch the other’s faces, who only nodded, and quickly followed Wanda.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

The doors of the lab flushed brutely open, Banner jumped backward losing balance and fell, Wanda made her way towards him stomping, her magic surrounding her menacing.

“Where?”

Her eyes lighted up dangerously for a second as a warning.

Bruce only pointed on a left hall, quickly shooting up on his feet and guiding Wanda, she was following closely, every step as a threat for him to walk faster.

He unlocked the door and Wanda pushed him aside, not having a pinch of patience.

She gasped.

You were nowhere to be seen.

If looks could kill, Banner would be three meters underground.

“I- I swear I left her here.”

He put his hands as if surrender, he quickly went to check your last vital signals registered on the machines.

“Her body was recovering quickly.”

He smiled nervously at Wanda, her anger was replaced with concern.

Thousands of negative thoughts were racing on her mind.

Vision appeared, traversing through the wall, his eyes saw the empty gurney in front of him and then settled on Wanda.

“I bet she is breathing and stable, Wanda.”

He tried to comfort her while he patted her shoulder, just for Wanda to turn and hug him.

She started sobbing like a child, she couldn’t contain herself.

She had so many things to tell you.

Vision soothed her, caressing her back awkwardly, he didn’t know what to do with human emotions.

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

Four weeks had passed.

You hadn’t shown any signals of life.

Tony had sent multiple drones to seek for you, the other avengers were searching every day in your favorite spots around the town.

Wanda, on the other side, every day that passed, the first thing that she did was go to your room, and run her hand through the sheets of your bed, your figure still draw in them, she would spend the whole day locked in there.

She also had a shirt that you gave her, she would sleep every night in her bed, hugging the shirt tightly.

“I should have told you, I should have done so many things, (y/n).”

She felt heavy, her eyes swollen for crying till she was dry, her throat sore, she was tired.

She still hoped that one day, she would wake up, go to your room and you would be there.

You would be sleeping peacefully, waiting to the alarm to wake you and spend your day making the avengers laugh at your silly jokes, training almost half of the day, and in the afternoon, while everyone was occupied, you would approach silently to Wanda’s bedroom, hesitantly deciding if knock or not the door, which she would sense you and would permit you to enter, you would find her sitting leg-crossed in her bed, while watching a 50’s black and white sitcom.

She would invite you with a warm smile and a slight nod, asking silently for you to sit on her side.

At some point in the show, she would look at you from the corner of her eye.

You would be watching the show attentive, trying to understand what was happening, but your thoughts, were flooding with Wanda’s presence, how warm she felt, how her company calmed you, she made you happy, she made you feel safe.

You would feel that someone is looking at you, and you would turn to see Wanda, who is now looking at you fully, with a small blush on her cheeks.

You would smile at her, your heartbeat would rise and your eyes would gleam with emotions.

Wanda would retrieve the smile.

“Hey.”

You would say cheerily.

“Hey.”

She would reply sheepishly.

The show would end and you would ask if she wants to see another episode.

She would say yes.

She always says yes to you.

And you would spend the entire afternoon watching the show, maybe you would leave Wanda for some snacks and then would return with your arms full, making Wanda laugh.

Or maybe you would fall asleep because the show not more entertains you, and she would look at you with devotion and adoration.

Some nights you would stay there, Wanda always let you stay, she would hug you, let her head rest on your chest and sleep with you, the next morning you would jolt awake and shower thousands of apologies to Wanda, she just would laugh and say that it was okay.

Some nights you would wake up in the middle of the night, super embarrassed, apologizing and leave, saying that it won’t happen again.

Wanda despised that kind of nights.

She loved your company.

Vision entered her room once again, always forgetting about privacy.

He would do this every day, bringing her some food, and she would eat half of it, just for respect.

Wanda’s head shot up, watching Vision approach to the bed.

“What do you want, Vision?”

Wanda asked dryly, her accent became evident these past weeks, it seems that it tended to appear when she was annoyed.

“I excuse myself for the bargain, Wanda, but I kindly remind you to ingest the nutrients your body needs.”

He replied while gesturing towards the plate he left that afternoon, deep in him, he was hoping that Wanda at least, ate, because her lack of resting and lack of self-care was clearly evident.

She scoffed and returned to her curled-up position.

Vision sighed, this needed to change.

She was not fine.

“Wanda.”

His voice was stern now.

No response.

He put his hand on her shoulder and squeezed gently.

“You need to eat something, if you continue like this, you will pass out.”

Still no response.

“The Avengers, including myself, are doing everything in their limits to find (Y/n)”

He trailed off a bit in the end.

Wanda turned her head to look at him.

“She will appear, I can sense it.”

Now her whole body was facing him.

“I think she would like to find you doing well.”

He dedicated Wanda a slight smile, she replied with another.

“Thank you, Vision.”

He just nodded and left the room.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Two weeks passed after that.

Wanda recovered some color on her face, her lips were plump again, and her eyes were refreshed, she would give a small smile if she encountered someone on her way to the kitchen or returning to your bedroom.

When she opened the door, she squealed when she found Vision inside but smiled afterwards.

“Vis, what are you doing here?”

He was in the middle of the room, looking outside through the gigantic window.

He glanced over his shoulder but didn’t move.

Wanda, slightly confused, approached him.

“Are you okay?”

She grabbed his shoulder, slowly turning him to her.

She locked her eyes onto his.

But they weren’t Vision’s eyes.

They were (y/e/c).

“Wanda...”

Vision talked, but that wasn’t only his voice, there were hints of yours too.

“(Y/n)?”

She smiled hopefully and cupped Vision’s face.

“You look stunningly delicious, Wanda.”

Vision smiled fondly like he was feeling your excitement.

The compliment was a joke between you and her, she was trying to learn english compliments and asked if the Froot Loops could be described as “stunningly delicious” .

She laughed a bit and looked into your eyes.

It was you but how?

“How have you been? Have you lost weight?”

The Vision-controlled-by-you asked pressing her cheeks together, her face now looked like a Blowfish.

The body quickly retracted his hands and took a step backward.

His eyes turned blue again.

“I’m sorry, Wanda, I hope that didn’t bother you.”

That was Vision, embarrassed of grabbing Wanda´s face like that, even if that was you.

You apologized mentally to him, he said that it was fine.

Wanda laughed a bit, she realized that you two were talking mentally as he had his eyes closed but they were moving furiously.

“How are you doing all this?”

She approached Vision again, he opened his eyes and they were yours.

“It’s a long story, but we are somehow connected.”

You smiled a little while remembering something.

You sighed and looked at her again.

“I just wanted to see you, to check if you were doing fine, Wanda.”

Her eyes started watering, and she shivered a bit.

Oh how much she missed you, how much she missed your face.

“Where are you right now, (y/n)?”

She simply asked and that took you by surprise.

You gulped and tried to take Vision back, but she grabbed your shoulder to keep you in place and grasped your chin so you couldn’t avoid her gaze.

“Where are you!?”

Her voice broke, she was crying.

Your eyes closed shut, you were concerned for her, you wished, no, you dreamed of being there, replacing Vision.

“I’m sorry, Wanda.”

You cupped her face and hugged her tightly so she won’t move.

“I really am.”

She shoved Vision backward so she could look at your eyes.

“Wait! (Y/n)!”

She shook Vision when she saw how (y/e/c) were fading to give access to Vision´s ones again.

“Don’t go...”

Wanda trailed off when he saw the pitiful look on his eyes, she started sobbing loudly.

“I apologize, Wanda.”

He hugged her, but not like you.

Nobody could hug like you.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They stayed in the room after that, it was quiet, Vision was sitting beside Wanda the entire time, she stopped crying after some time; when it got too late, he left the room and quickly returned with some food.

“How...”

Wanda mumbled as Vision was setting a little table in front of her.

“How is she connected with you?”

Wanda asked nervously, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear and scratching her arm.

Vision nodded and sat again, giving Wanda a glass of water and observing her.

She took the hint and began to eat.

After a few seconds, he started talking.

“I don’t have a proper explanation of it.”

Vision said frowning.

“One day, (y/n) just approached me, she touched the stone...”

He motioned his hand hanging over the stone a little.

“And suddenly, I could feel not just me, but her too.”

He looked at his hands.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And it was true.

When you arrived at the tower, Vision was a really interesting being for you.

You quickly befriended everyone, even him; he would ask about some human things, and you would gladly tell him everything you knew about it, still amazed at the fact that he could think properly and feel too.

One day, the curiosity took the best of you, and you asked if you could touch the stone, slightly embarrassed, you didn’t know how Vision could feel about it.

He smiled at you and nodded, bending a little so you could reach his forehead.

You thanked him and softly pressed your digits into the rock.

Click.

Everything made sense, his existence, how his body worked, how he could feel things, you now could see how he was conformed, you watched his energy flowing in his body.

He was a sophisticated invention, and when you looked at his eyes, the stone glowed.

Your eyes flashed.

Vision could see your brain working, your veins pumping and your nerves functioning, you were something more than a simple human, yet you were made in blood and flesh.

He could feel you and you felt him.

You two shared a smile.

He was a good artificial friend, and you were the closest he has been to a human.

When you got hurt in the battle, he left the Avenger’s tower, even if told he had to stay and not intervene, and when he found you, lying unconscious on the ground, he carried you to the lab immediately.

He felt how you were physically hurt, while you were screaming to the others from pain in the lab, crying.

He felt.

He had felt you thinking loudly while you escaped.

Then he felt how you were hiding from the avengers.

No.

You were hiding from Wanda.

He could feel...

Your sadness.

So he contacted you, through a mind bond you both had, at first that scared the shit out of you, but quickly was replaced by relief.

He was... happy to be talking to you, you two agreed that he would check on you, but he wouldn’t say anything.

In his visits, he told you about everyone, you felt horrible, and when he told you about Wanda’s breakdown, you made him promise that he would take care of her.

And he gladly did.

Because this was not an order, like the ones that Stark gave to him.

This was something that you asked.

And while you were asking, he felt your sorrow.

So when he returned another week and told you that Wanda was doing better because he raised her hopes about seeing you again, you had to do something.

You couldn’t appear, no.

His stone was enlightened again.

And you understood that this connection was deeper than you initially thought.

When you looked at him, he nodded, and you hugged him.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Wanda stopped chewing and gazed at him, in disbelief.

He sighed.

“Wanda... is there any possibility that I could see inside your mind?”

She gave him a confused glare, frowning, and shook her head.

“It’s just... I feel like...”

His stone gleamed for a second.

Wanda’s eyes shot up and she approached him, she slightly raised her hand, and Vision stiffened.

That was not what he wanted, and Wanda caught up.

She closed her eyes and let her hands rest on her legs.

Vision nodded and softly pressed his hand into her temple.

Now, he no only felt how you were observing, but now, you were feeling Wanda too.

She felt painfully broken, flooding with anguish and melancholy, she felt like someone tore apart half of her soul.

You felt her.

And now you were crying disconsolately.

Vision quickly drawled his hand back, he had his eyes closed and a pained look on his face.

Wanda blinked a few times and give a concerned look at him.

“Vis, what happened?”

Vision opened his eyes.

A tear ran down his cheek.

“I know where is (y/n).”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You were gathered in a corner of the room you were living in, crying, you couldn’t stop your tears anymore.

You missed Wanda, you missed her laugh, her voice, her eyes, her warmth.

You missed the moments you spent with her.

I should have told her...

You heard someone bursting into the living room.

Vision?

You didn’t have the forces to confront him right now.

“(Y/n)!?”

You froze.

It wasn’t Vision.

It was Wanda.

“(Y/n)!? Where are you!?”

She screamed with hope in a faint voice.

Everything was dark, Wanda quickly lighted the only bulb that was in the room.

“(Y/n)! Please!”

She cried out, her heart pumping hard in her chest, her face tear-stained was desperate looking around.

And from all the darkness, you appeared.

Wanda went through thousand of emotions when she saw you.

You were different.

Skinny, almost in your bones, your body slightly curved, like you were using just a foot to put your whole weight, one of your arms was bruised; the other one holding a cane.

You stepped more into the light, and she took in your face.

Your lips were dry, you had a big cut in the bottom one, half of your right ear was missing.

And the whole part of your eyes was bandaged.

You were wondering if your mind tricked you, there was no sign of someone in there.

Until you felt an arm wrapping you tightly.

You dropped your cane and hold onto the figure.

Wanda started sobbing into your shoulder, she had one of her arms grabbing you strongly by your back and the other one was grasping your shoulders, trying to feel you as most as she could.

“I thought that I had lost you.”

She continued to cry until she had little hiccups.

You were crying too, your bandages were damped at this point.

“I’m sorry...”

You replied breathlessly.

She left the embrace, but she continued to hold you, her hands were now at your waist.

“I won’t leave again.”

You nodded slowly, trying to reassure her that it was a promise.

She observed you and reached the bandages to tug them off, but you quickly grabbed her hand, stopping her.

“Wait, Wanda.”

You called quickly, your heartbeat raised, and your breaths became shorter.

“You don’t have to.”

You were anxious, repeatedly trying to put her hand down.

She cupped your face with her other hand and caressed your cheek with her thumb.

“I want to, (Y/n)”

For a moment, you dug your nails into her wrist but you quickly surrendered.

It was Wanda after all.

As soon as you nodded, she retrieved her hands and used her magic to undo the bandages.

It all happened slowly, she carefully took every layer, hesitating a little, because every layer she took off made you stiffen more.

At the final layer, she used her hands, she grabbed gently the last strand, removed it, and let it fall into the ground.

She gasped and her eyes softened.

The superior part of your face was the most affected.

The whole upper area was in a dark crimson pinkish color, burned, and in living flesh.

It covered all of it, and it reached from ear to ear.

It seemed like it was healing slowly, but the worst part was your eyes.

They were covered mostly in a milky white layer, leaving a quarter of your (e/c) at sight, swollen and sticky, tears staining your eyelids.

Now they were moving, desperately trying to seek something.

Wanda sensed your hesitation.

“I’m happy to see you.”

She smiled and leaned forward but stop inches enough so you were feeling her hot breath against your face.

“Does it hurts?”

You blinked a few times.

“No, it doesn’t.”

She brushed her nose with yours.

She read about it in a book, it was told that Eskimos couldn’t kiss because of the cold weather, so they brush their noses gently to show affection.

It was something that she liked, and you despised.

You crunched your nose and smiled.

She smiled too.

“Wanda, I have something to tell you.”

You took a step back, trying to make some room but you almost tripped so she caught you by your back.

You had one of your hands grabbing her coat and the other one her arm.

“And if I don’t say it know, It seems that probably I won’t have the chance to do it other time”

You chuckled quietly.

“ I...”

You sighed, she was giving you time to talk, you thanked that.

“I love you.”

She became ecstatic.

Your eyes stared forward, unsure, moving rapidly, waiting for an answer.

The room was silent.

You were trembling at this point.

She shook her head rapidly, coming back to reality, and when she realized that you couldn’t see her, she grabbed your hands and let you cup her face.

You eagerly touched her features, going from her forehead, tracing the corner of her eyes, caressing her cheekbones, and when you cupped her jaw, you could sense that she was smiling.

“What do you feel, (y/n)?”

A tear touched your hand and you carefully wiped it away.

“I just feel you.”

She kissed the palm of your hand.

“Good.”

She said softly and her eyes shot up red.

She was letting you into her mind.

Memories, feelings, and thoughts of her were being shown to you, so you shared yours too.

You saw how she would check on you while you were training, using a facade of “I like to see some moves to use later” knowing that she doesn’t use close combat, or how she would prepare foods that you liked in a thankful form for missing dinners when you preferred spending the night with her.

You saw how the high ranked members on meetings would make her feel less saying that she was dangerous, so it was safer to not use her in order to protect the civilians on there; but she would simply shrug it off because, in the afternoon, she would see you again.

You saw how she spent these weeks going to your bedroom and hugging your shirt, crying until she fell asleep.

You saw how she was shattered into million pieces and made her best to compose herself in the hope of seeing you again.

On her side, she saw how your eyes were fixated on her in Stark’s parties to see if she was having fun, and when you come to realize that she was getting a bit uncomfortable, you would smoothly distract anyone that was talking to her to give her some space, or how would you seek for her in every mission just to see if she was doing fine, even if you were the one that needed help.

She saw how you would have a terrible day and it all disappeared when you saw her.

She saw how you caught her while she was falling in the mission, and made sure that she was okay.

She saw how your body fell, twisted, and cracked, how the mine near you exploded.

How you screamed in agony, crying loudly and begging the others to not let her see you like this.

Because in every thought that you had.

She was present.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

You abandoned each other’s mind, her magic burst in a blast in the room when you broke the connection.

“Wow.”

You both said in a whisper at the same time, with your foreheads pressed.

“(Y/n)?”

Her gaze was fixated on you while she was brushing her slender fingers through your long hair.

“Yes, Wanda?”

This time, your eyes were searching for something, it seemed like you were searching for her lips.

“Can I kiss you?”

Your eyes shot up and somehow they looked into Wanda’s

“You can.”

You closed her eyes and stood still, Wanda closed hers too and leaned, kissing you dearly, making you both melt into the kiss.

It felt good.

Like new stars forming in the universe, like a laugh of a newborn or the soft caress of a mother.

Her lips had a faint taste of salty tears mixed with her sugary strawberry lipstick.

Your lips felt softer than they seemed, they had a taste of chocolate syrup covered with a hint of mint.

You had been eating your favorite candy, Vision had brought a box of them without being asked.

It’s a gift, he said, smiling.

Your hand tried to reach her face so she took your hand, grabbing and squeezing it lovingly.

You were the one that broke the kiss, with your eyes still closed but you didn’t pull apart from her, her body was emanating the heat you missed and craved.

She didn’t try to move away neither, she was enjoying the moment.

“I love you too, (y/n).”

She murmured against your lips while you formed a smile.

She laughed, and took you into her arms, picking you up, and started swirling you around.

You chuckled and screamed startled at her to stop, she stopped and lifted you higher, with a smile on her face that quite reached her ears and observed you for a moment.

Your hair was falling in cascades on her face, it framed your features perfectly, your eyes were squinted because of your wide smile.

She lowered you a bit, so now you were hovering her face.

You instinctively inclined your head, searching for her face and she made it easier when she guided your lips to hers.

This one felt like shooting stars too.

Your heart was doing stunts in your chest, she hummed into the kiss and both of you sighed excitedly.

You let your hands rest on her shoulders and wrapped your legs around her torso, then she had her hands securing you by the waist.

She broke the kiss this time, your body was melting into her touch.

You let your chin rest on her shoulder and closed your eyes, letting go a deep breath.

This felt right.

Wanda nodded, and raised her hand to rub your back, she agreed.

This indeed felt right.

“I’m sorry.”

You said suddenly, swallowing a sob, the guilt tightened your chest.

“Don’t be.”

She was smiling sadly, she still couldn’t conceive the thought of never seeing you again.

“But I only caused problems, I made you feel miserable.”

You buried your head into her neck, your voice was quiet.

“I was sad because I remembered all the happy moments that you shared with me, I couldn’t bear the thought of losing you, but you are alive, (y/n).”

She was excited now.

“I have the chance to show you how much I love you.”

You giggled and kissed her neck, making her laugh too.

You backed a bit, forgetting that you couldn’t see her, but that didn’t bother you in the slightest, she was there, and you could feel her.

“Wanda?”

You asked knitting your brows.

“Yes, (y/n)?

She cupped your cheek, watching you with a goofy smile.

“Are we floating?”

You laughed a bit, you could somehow sense that you weren’t on the floor, but it became obvious when you let go of your legs from her waist and your feet just felt air.

And you were right.

Absently minded, Wanda started floating while sharing the kiss with you.

“Yes, we are.”

She was laughing sheepishly, she slowly started lowering you both, holding you tenderly, until she reached the ground and she helped you to stand.

You both had your hands intertwined.

“I’ll stay with you from now on.”

She stated, taking your expressions, you were thinking.

“First me disappearing, then you gone? The others will freak out.”

You chuckled at the thought, imagining the chaos that would lose Wanda’s disappearance.

She kissed both of your hands, and leave them to grab your temples and rest her head over yours.

“Vision knows where are we, if they need us, they can talk to him.”

You shook your head, smiling.

“Poor him.”

You could hear a soft voice in the back of your head.

I wouldn’t mind in the slightest.

“Oh and (Y/n)?”

Wanda asked, a smile could be heard in her voice.

“Yes?”

“You look stunningly delicious.”

She snorted and gently kissed your nose.

[agxthahxrkness]

Hello New People

//hi there! If you came across me via the amazing @agnessharknes , welcome welcome! If not, I'm glad you're here regardless!

I have two simple rules:

Don't be a dick (your asks will be deleted)

Please don't reblog rp threads if you are not the partner in question. (Rp threads are tagged with a Do Not Reblog simple because it screws up the tracking of them for replies)

Other than that, hello I'm an rp blog for Agatha Harkness. You can send me asks and submissions (memes too) to your heart's desire to be answered by my internal dark witch who complains and bitches in my head most days.

Everything is answered by the muse unless otherwise specified. I reserve the right to decline answering things that make me uncomfortable (although that's very little).

Feel free to ask ship specific questions as well.

My current ships are:

Agatha/Wanda

Agatha/Maria Hill

Agatha/Ororo Munroe

Agatha/Melina

Agatha/Valentina

Agatha/Hela

Agatha/Natasha

Agatha/Abigail (@agnessharknes OC)

All of these have rp threads and asks so I have some material to work from. I do work most days so my answers will come as I get to them. My askbox is open, have fun dears.

[meggtheegg]

evan hansen, sam wilson, & wanda maximov?

ohh man this one's gonna get long so i'll put it under a read more :D

evan:

favorite thing about them

his sincere desire to make sure everyone is okay. half of his problems stem from that one need, but it's ultimately what makes him set things right, too.

least favorite thing about them

there are many obvious character flaws that i could point out, but the most overlooked one is that he goes off his fucking meds without telling anyone that shit is dangerous and should not be treated as anything but that.

favorite line

"dear evan hansen, today is going to be a good day and here's why. because today, no matter what else, today at least you're you. no hiding. no lying. just... you. and that's. that's enough. maybe someday, everything that happened will all feel like a distant memory. maybe someday no one will remember about the connor project. or me. maybe someday, some other kid is going to be standing here, staring out at the trees, feeling so...alone, wondering if maybe the world might look different from all the way up there. better. and maybe he'll start climbing, one branch at a time, and he'll keep going. even when it seems like he can't find another foothold. even when it feels... hopeless. like everything is telling him to let go. this time...maybe this time, he won't let go. he'll just hold on...and keep going. he'll keep going until he sees the sun."

brOTP

evan and zoe should be friends, and even if that's super unrealistic, i will still hold onto that

OTP

evan x going back on his gosh darn meds

nOTP

i've never really seen an evan ship that bothers me, actually

random headcanon

i've said it a million times and i will say it again, this kid has autism, and no one will ever convince me otherwise (side-eyes steven levenson and ben platt)

unpopular opinion

evan is neither a horrible kid or a smol uwu anxious bean. he's a mentally ill teenager, who should be treated with the nuance and understanding that deserves.

also, the kiss at the end of ywbf kills all the emotion and power of the song so quickly, why has it not been taken out yet

song i associate with them

kill the ghost - motherfolk

favorite picture of them

(i am so sorry, i had to share this picture with the world it makes me laugh every time)

sam:

favorite thing about them

what is there not to love about sam wilson, honestly? if i have to pick something, it's probably his adaptability. captain america trolling him on his morning run? okay, let's talk to him about his trauma. he and black widow show up at his door saying everyone's trying to kill them? let them in and make them breakfast, if they eat that kind of thing. being hunted by some masked assassin? time to bring a knife to a gunfight and win, i guess. the masked assassin is cap's best friend? well, time to drop everything and search the world for him and become an avenger. superheroes have to register with the government, now? well, guess it's time to become a fugitive and go on the run for a few years. cap is an old man, half the world has gone on without him for five years, and now he's supposed to be captain america? well, he'll hesitate to take up the mantle, but good for steve. the masked assassin that tried to kill him is part of his found family now? sure, whatever. invite him to the cookout. i think that literally nothing could surprise this man, by now, and he just keeps doing what he feels is right without even stopping to question it.

least favorite thing about them

honestly, i don't even know. some of the stuff he says to bucky feels uncharacteristically unsympathetic, in civil war and the beginning of tfatws, but also like,,,usually he's not wrong, he's just kind of blunt about it??? idk man i love sam wilson.

oh, and i guess the cowl on his cap suit looks kinda dumb and uncomfortable

favorite line

"the only power i have is that i believe we can do better."

that's sam summed up in one line, right there. he's a normal guy surrounded by superheroes and yet he holds his own and stands out because he's so sincere and dedicated and good that it doesn't even matter

brOTP

sam and steve. we should've gotten more of them hanging out, honestly. they were great together.

OTP

sambucky, baybee! for all the reasons i listed in my answer for bucky :)

nOTP

another one i can't think of anything for. i guess sam/tony, if anyone ships that???

random headcanon

sam was actually pretty quiet, as a kid. he kind of let sarah do the talking for him. it wasn't until they got older that he started becoming more talkative and developing his sense of humor

unpopular opinion

sam did make mistakes in tfatws. bucky wasn't the only one to screw up. that was what made their reconciliation so nice. yeah, bucky was being way more of an asshole about the shield than sam was about anything, but that doesn't mean he was perfect 100% of the time, and that's good. that's what makes him human and relatable.

song i associate with them

come on, there's no way i can't say trouble man, here.

favorite picture of them

wanda

favorite thing about them

her gentle kindness. especially in civil war, there's something so soft and genuine about her that's just immediately endearing.

least favorite thing about them

the way that closing scene in wandavision implied she still may become a villain, despite having that option and rejecting it at the cost of her family, earlier that same episode. it just felt...wrong.

favorite line

"i can't control their fear. only my own."

i probably quote this line way too often. it's just....chef's kiss

(honorable mention goes to: "I don't even know who you are." "You will.")

brOTP

i so wish agatha hadn't become a one-dimensional villain in the last episode, because their friendship, however fake, was really sweet.

but also her friendship with the rest of team cap, especially steve, was also really lovely and i wish we could've gotten more of that

OTP

🎶WANDAVISION, WA-WANDAVISION, WANDAVISION WA-WANDAVISION...WANDAVISION!!"🎶

nOTP

wanda/pietro....just...ew....

random headcanon

despite her love for the genre, the two sitcoms she could never watch were alf and gilligan's island. the themes of being trapped somewhere without your family, no matter how funny the circumstances, just hit too close to home.

unpopular opinion

they shouldn't have aged wanda up to match lizzie's actual age. i know it was never officially stated anywhere until wandavision, but in aou and civil war, she was heavily implied to be a teenager, and honestly, that would've made everything about her character both hit harder and make way more sense. she could have been in her late teens-early 20s by the time wandavision rolled around, but having her in her late 20s-early 30s just doesn't fit all the comments about her being a kid/going to high school/etc. making her younger would mean that her decision to join hydra was the misinformed decision of a traumatized teenager, rather than a grown woman, and could have tied into tfatws and karli, which could then expand into an actual examination of why young people are willing to go to such extremes to make change and that could have been really interesting.

song i associate with them

razzmatazz - i don't know how but they found me

favorite picture of them

[iamdeltas]

For the Character ask meme, Agatha Harkness

First impression: Okay, Agnes is... okay. She’s kinda funny, even if her jokes about how much she hates her husband Ralph is a bit grating. She’s also highkey suspicious. Plus... the last time Kathryn Hahn played a seemingly innocuous and comedic character with seemingly no comics counterpart in a Marvel property, that character ended up being a villain. You’re not fooling me again, Ms. Hahn! 

Impression now: Witchy love of my LIFE! Best Marvel villain since Killmonger, and I need to see her again! (As herself, obviously, her forced into the “Agnes” persona creeps me the fuck out.) Can she please have a spinoff?!  

Favorite moment: Uh, how about that absolute banger of a villain song? What an introduction to the real her!

Idea for a story: Ever since I saw that gifset of the most powerful MCU magic users, I want to see a team-up. Agatha teaming up with Wanda, Stephen Strange, and Loki for whatever reason! I Just Think It’d Be Neat.

Unpopular opinion: Hmm. I have a few but I think I’ll go with: yeah, what ended up happening to her is pretty damn cruel, actually? And no, even though she did horrible shit, she did not deserve that because no one deserves that, ever. And I’m 85% sure the writers intended this as a character choice for Wanda to show that she can be pretty cruel (which I am Very Okay with, do not get me wrong! I love seeing female characters do fucked up things! That’s why, for instance, I adored Glimmer in s4 and her terrible choices.) but I also do not trust the MCU to follow up on any of that properly. They’d totally handwave it away as, oh, she’s the bad guy, so it’s totes cool to just trap her in her mind like that, that’s super chill! I just can’t help contrasting it to say, what Kipo and the Age of Wonderbeasts did, where they actually did have the Big Bad end up trapped in her own mind (due to her own actions) and Kipo... freed her from that, reasoning that even though she’s a terrible person, no one deserves to have their mind taken away from themselves, not even her.

Favorite relationship: I adore the relationship between her and Wanda. I got a sense that (and I feel vindicated about it from some of the interviews I’ve read from the creator) Agatha still on some level wanted to connect with Wanda over magic and shit, while still also being a) highkey jealous in that classic DND Wizard vs DND Sorcerer way that Wanda has access to all this crazy magic without studying at all (which, I mean. I get it, man.) and b) power-hungry and selfish so that would certainly make their relationship, ahem, less-than-ideal. It’s a bit funny because before the reveal, I maybe thought for a minute about Wanda/Agnes as a relationship after seeing a gifset of them from the 50s ep with a not-insignificant amount of touching, captioned “Harold....” but ultimately didn’t think much of it as a ship, but as soon as the Agatha reveal happened. Well. What’s better than enemies-to-lovers, amirite? (Also made me realize that the MCU really hasn’t had much fuel for f/f enemies-to-lovers ships until now. The only example I can think of is Peggy/Dottie from Agent Carter. Granted, maybe AoS had some, I never watched much of that show. But the previous female villains in MCU movies (I specify movies cuz those are the ones made by the same studio that made WandaVision I believe), Nebula, Hela, and Ghost, wouldn’t have had that kind of shipping fuel because, in Nebula’s case, the only female Guardian of the Galaxy is her sister, so, no. In Hela’s case, she really didn’t interact with Valkyrie that much? And in Ghost’s case... again, she also didn’t really interact with Hope that much. Though maybe there’s something there with Janet, IDK. Janet did heal her.)

Favorite headcanon: Hmm. I’ve got several. I’ve already mentioned the “moonlighted as a campaign manager named ‘Jennifer Barkley’ in the 2010s” one before so I’ll try to pick another favorite. I think it’s a tossup between, all her jokes about hating her husband was her impression of what straight people are like, and she has some unspecified beef with Loki and they have a mutual hatred/some petty rivalry going on. Granted, I’m stuck between the latter headcanon and “actually if they ever met, they’d get along like a house on fire and possibly set the whole world on fire, oh dear,” mostly cuz I can’t decide which I like more.

[blorbosexterminator]

Its the ep before the grand finale and well... I AM STILL BACK

So, ep 29, lets do this :

He was even too weak to resist Martín, still Martín avoided meeting his eyes. He wasn’t too excited to find what they held for him now.

Well, what do you think was gonna happen Martin? What? You think He'll be like "oh, no no no its all cool"

No, you moron he'll be pissed and he has a right to do so

“What will you do, huh?” she grinned, “wait, let me guess, you’ll kill me! Such a brillant, novice idea Martin,” she mock-clapped

“Ah, Sergio, you’ve grown into a charming man, but don’t worry about it, I’m already getting what I want. This” she gestured at Andrés and Martín, “is what I want. And you’ve killed my right-hand man too, this is obviously unforgivable. Go on Martín, play the little doctor you are and treat him,” she grinned at him. “You know, I’ve always known you were jealous of me, always wanted what I had, so I’m not surprised you attached yourself to him like this. I’ve watched you the past years, watched how happy you were, not a single moment of remorse for what you’ve done.”

🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣 Tatiana monolouging like a villain 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

As this point, I'm taking back my words from ep7 (or 8 idk)

YOU CAN FUCK RIGHT OFF WHORE 😡😡😡 TAKE YOUR MONOLOUGE AND SHOVE IT UP YOUR ASS. NO ONE CARES

I am willing to bet you screwed Federico while being married to Andres 😡😡😡 You cheating, lying fucking bitch.

Even Silene is more tolerable than you. And everyone knows how much I adore Silene

(Although, Silene is 65% redeemed after the last chapter. And I still want Raquel to at the very least slap her and Martin & Paula high-fiving in the background)

Martín noticed the door in the back get slowly pushed, but Tatiana amidst her speech and her back to it didn’t seem to notice, Martín decided to go along with it.

“I wouldn’t have had to do anything had you had a little more common sense, I tried to explain to you that there was nothing there, I told you to leave him be. Everyone understood, but you just imagined yourself smarter than the rest—”

“Not you? What the fuck would you have done? Even if you remarried him, you couldn’t just live with him with Bogota’s son forever—”

Door : *slowly opens*

Martin : Its time to use my most treasured weapon :

PETTINESS

Also, I love the fact Martin helped take out a villain just by his pettiness 🤣🤣🤣🤣🤣

“Duck!” Martín screamed at Julia, who managed to sneak so far behind Tatiana, but had Tatiana turn with her gun raised at the last moment. She moved but not enough, she still got a bullet in her arm. But before Tatiana got to shoot another, the old man with Julia threw a rope around Tatiana’s neck and pulled from the back. 

SENOR RAMOS!!! THE HERO OF THE TELENOVA!!!!

Okay, okay the convo between Sergio and Martin made me go :

(Thats my dog comforting me)

🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧 Okay, moving on :

Sergio and Martin went from : Ima destroy the other for Andres. To : I was ready to kill my own brother/friend to save Andres and that is so beautiful 😍

Also, Martin did everything to save Andres, even tho he couldve followed along Tatiana? Excluding everyone but Sergio from the will & willing to pay from his own pocket to save him...... I.....

My dog : Oh God no 😨

Me : *bursts into tears again*

🤧🤧🤧

MARTIN, BABE, COME HERE YOU DESERVE A HUG. EVEN THO I WANNA WHOOP YO ASS, I'LL HUG YOU FIRST.

BERLERMO ANGST!!!!

Me :

My dog : Please not again. Please no

Me : No, no I am good

*narrator voice* 5 seconds later

*proceeds to start crying again*

My dog : *hands me a bar of chocolate and some water*

Me : *sniffing* thank you, sweetie

🤧🤧🤧🤧🤧

Ok, back to review, again :

Agatha is so fucking badass 😍

She be like :

That entire scene is mindblowing 🤯 Absolutely amazing. Also, shout out to Axel for being the best assistant 😄

And Agatha cooing at the baby 😍😍😍 Such a shame we didnt get to see Mama!Agatha in canon 🙁

I love the fact that Alicia and Agatha have their own stuff going on apart from the telenova nutcases 🤣🤣🤣

Also, I dont know whatever witchcraft you did, but you, you made me root for the Agatha/Alicia ship so bad, at least for this story

As carefully as she could, she opened the front door. She looked back one more time at her, the child sleeping peacefully by her side, and left.

😍 Agatha and Alicia running off int..... well never mind 🙁. But I expect a happy ending for both of them and its non-negotiable

But as Andrés took off of the house, not as steady as he tried to seem, nearly blind with everything, and crossed the road with only one thing ringing in his mind, the physical pain of his heart shattering

Unaware of his surroundings, a car that was going too fast for its own good, that someone else, Andrés even in another time, might have saw coming in time, clashed with him, raising him off the ground.

😱😱😱 OH FUCKING HELL!!! OH MY DEAR LORD!!!! OH SHIT!!! HOLY FUCKING SHIT!!!

Okay, I am NOT kidding but I was reading this on my mobile and my dog was sitting beside me. When I read Andres being hit, I squeaked and my mobile slipped outta my hands and I accidently (slightly) bonked my dog and yes, hes fine, he just got spooked a bit.

Hello again!! Great to see you back!

Oh yeah, he honestly have every right to be angry. I can't even imagine.

She is! This is a telenovela and monologuing villains will monologue. Omg, can't believe I managed to get you that pissed off her lmfao. Okay but look, Federico is about 10-12 years younger than Sergio, who is about 10-12 years younger than Andrés. He's probably about half Andrés' age and Andrés and Tatiana got married when they were pretty young. So yeah Federico was at worst not even born and at best a few months old agshshhs. She's evil, but not that sick. And I got Silene 65% redeemed omg agshhs can't believe I've gotten those two reactions from you.

Yes lmfao Martín's role in her take out was to be so pittiful and distracting.

HE IS. Our hero.

(I got distracted for a moment here at how pretty Wanda is, wtf) seriously so, so happy you felt for the Sergio and Martín moment, I genuinely loved writing it. Yes, despite all else, Sergio and Martín reached the understanding that they'd both do all for Andrés.

Yes!! Martín really pulled all that up for him. Your dog is so good and nice. You and him are the powerful duo.

AND SHE DID. Amazing, really, I would have even left my own son and ran away. And YES thank you for acknowledging Axel's hard work. He is the best assistant ever.

Oh yeah, both seperated pretty early on from the rest and had their own shit going on lmfao. Like they still used Martín's store but Martín is really beyond noticing anything now.

I'm so happy you rooted for them!!!

Don't worry. You'll find what your heart desires in the finale.

OMG so happy your dog is okay but also so happy I got this reaction afabhahshshs so glad it surprised you like that!!!

Thank you so much Kal. Again and Again.

[caroldantops]

please don’t go (i’ll eat you whole)

ship: dark!agatha harkness/fem!reader

summary/request: you’re a stress laden college student with way more anxiety than you can handle. luckily, your friend wanda knows of a therapist that knows just how to take care of you. (modern au)

word count: 5.7k

this is a darkfic and contains the following dark themes, read at your own discretion: dubcon, unbalanced power dynamics (therapist/patient relationship), manipulation, codependency, obsessive behaviors, and possible hints at other themes but those are all the explicit ones.

if you’d like elaboration on any of these warnings feel free to ask!

other warnings:  smut (18+ only!), dom!agatha, sub!reader, praise kink, mommy kink, fingering (r receiving), vibrators, dirty talk, possessive agatha, lots of pet names, legal age gap, allusions to wanda/agatha, discussion of anxiety and mental illnesses

faq | masterlist

The sound of your shoes squeaking against the floor as your leg bounces anxiously draws the attention of the three other people in the waiting room. You, however, are completely unaware of the noise and the glares that you’re getting. The thoughts in your head are all jumbles of words happening all at once. Pure alphabet soup. 

You really don’t want to be here. Any sort of doctor’s office always sets off your anxiety, but this one in particular is sending you into overdrive. All of the pamphlets talking about how to support your child with depression, the T.V. that’s playing some animation about finding support groups with chillingly corporate animations, and the other patients who all look like they would rather be anywhere else. 

Was it too late to bail out of this? Maybe you should just try going to those weird “self-care sessions” that your college advertises rather than actually putting any of the funding into finding more and better counselors. The therapy dogs are pretty cute. Corgis are enough of a cure for your anxiety that keeps you from socializing with anybody outside of your friends that you can count on a single hand, right?

You look at your phone. Three texts, two are from your roommate Darcy, and one from Wanda. Your eyes shoot towards the clock on the wall, then to the exit, as if planning a grand escape (as if anyone in this waiting room would care about what you did). The overly sweet secretary notices you fidgeting and asks if you need anything, but you just shake your head and mumble out something about just checking the time. 

Darcy’s messages are just her asking if you needed more coffee pods, to which you reply “yes please.” Wanda, however, is telling you that she hopes that your first session goes alright. 

What exactly should you say to that? 

“Yep, hope they shoot the serotonin straight into my body!” Or maybe, “Thanks. Unrelated, can you come kill me?” 

Both are good options, but you opt to just send a heart as a reply. 

Wanda is the one who suggested this particular counselor when you finally admitted that you were in a place where you needed to at least try. You had noticed a big difference in Wanda over the past year after she started seeing Dr. Harkness, so you were willing to at least go to a few sessions and see if it would be the right fit. 

You’re so wrapped up in your own brain, mentally trying to decide if there’s a last minute way you could back out of this, that you practically jump out of your seat when you hear a woman’s voice calling your name. Standing in the doorway that leads to the offices, you see Dr. Harkness for the first time. 

Wanda apparently failed to mention the fact that the therapist she’s been seeing is incredibly attractive. 

“You okay, honey?” Dr. Harkness asks as you remain paralyzed in your seat, your fight or flight instincts apparently choose to freeze at the sight of this woman who makes your mouth go dry. 

“Yes! I’m fine, sorry. I zone out a lot,” you try to casually laugh it off as you let her lead you to her office. 

“Noted. But next time just take a picture, dear, it’ll last you longer,” Dr. Harkness teases with a wink. You’re a little stunned at how she doesn’t hesitate to joke with you as if she’s known you for years. Or at least more than three seconds. But it’s actually comforting in a way, making the whole process seem less sterile. Your shoulders visibly relax when you finally sink into the comfy couch in Dr. Harkness’s office.

While she pulls your file up on her laptop, you look around and see a large variety of things. There’s items that you assume were given to her with the office, like the filing cabinets and minimalist white bookshelf, but everything else feels like a distinct mixing of eras and random purchases. 

The desk that she’s working at would definitely take over a room any smaller than this. It’s huge, and clearly an antique. You’re not even sure how it fit through the door. It definitely does not match the rolling chair from Office Max that Dr. Harkness is sitting in, rolling herself ever so slightly back and forth as she hums and scans through documents. The couch you’re on doesn’t feel like anything special - other than the fact that it really makes you want to nap on it - but the stuffed rabbit that has to be as tall as (if not taller than) you stares at you from the other corner of the couch. 

There’s a table next to you that is filled with things that catch your interest. Apart from the record player and antique lamp that looks like a bunch of twisted tree branches, there’s a bunch of fun desk decor, various crystals that you have no idea the meaning behind, and fidget toys that your hands twitch to mess with. 

“You’re allowed to touch, dear,” Dr. Harkness’s voice startles you. You look up and see that she’s been watching you, probably for longer than you registered. “Anything in here is free for you to play with, that’s why it’s here!” 

You bite your tongue to keep yourself from making the obvious joke of asking if those parameters include her. Probably not the first impression you want to make. You stay silent and grab a little stack of magnets off of the table and start arranging them as Dr. Harkness finally starts asking you questions.

You were the one who did most of the analyzing that day. While she was going over your initial screening, getting an idea of what exactly you were here for and what would be the best way to spend your short hour together, you were studying her carefully. Something about Dr. Harkness - Agatha, you learned her first name was, as she insists you call her by it - lured you in like she has her own gravitational pull. 

You ramble on a lot more than you usually would - probably just glad to have someone whose job it is to be non judgemental - talking about your schoolwork and the few friends you had, which professors drove you up the wall and which ones you actually looked forward to seeing. It all just flows out of you, and you don’t even realize fully what you’re saying because of how focused you are on staring at Agatha. 

All of your nerves seem to dissipate as soon as you started talking to Agatha. It was no wonder that Wanda sung such high praises of the woman, because what would usually feel like a grueling process of small talk that started digging into more of your personal life sped by, and before you knew it, the hour was up. 

“Well, time flies when you’re in good company,” Agatha says as she walks you back towards the lobby. Her hand drifts to your lower back as she leads you out. The gesture seems rather forward, but you figure that maybe she’s just a generally touchy person, so you don’t flinch away. Plus, you kind of like the way the lingering touch leaves goosebumps along your skin. “I hope to hear good things about that paper you’re working on, dear.” 

“I am too,” you laugh. “I’ll try my best.” 

“Good girl!” Agatha beams. “See you next week!” 

Looking back on it, you were doomed from the start. 

//

You really can’t quite place what it is about Agatha that fascinates you so deeply. Perhaps it's your general penchant for getting inappropriately attached to older female figures in your life.

This woman has you enamored. With her dark hair you want to run your hands through, with the lines of her face that you want to trace with your fingertips, with her laugh that kept ringing in your ears through the whole session after you made a snide comment about how you love life was dry in more ways than one.  

Freud would probably have some backwards, perverted reasoning for how dependent your self-esteem became on the praise of any female teacher you even remotely liked. 

But, fuck Freud. Maybe you just like hot women who just happen to be old enough to be your mother. 

This thought process (minus the part about wanting Agatha to kiss you and touch you and make you come undone) all comes spilling out one session as you’re telling Agatha how the paper you had mentioned during your first meeting had come back. It was certainly not your worst grade ever, but it was definitely far from your best. The grade itself would be much more bearable if the comments on it weren’t practically giving you hives. 

“A stickler for praise, huh?” Agatha hums, propping her chin up on her knee. She plays with the end of her sleeves as she ponders what you’ve said, a habit that you’ve caught onto over the last month and a half. You always like when she does this, pushing her sleeves up to her elbows. Her hands make your mouth water, and you long to suck on her long digits or feel the veins in her “Sounds like a lot of girls I’ve been in bed with.” 

You’re mostly used to Agatha’s flippant innuendos by now, but somehow the more you’ve talked to her, the more flustered they make you. You have gotten braver, daring to fire back with responses that always make Agatha laugh. You’re not sure if you’re actually funny, or she’s just making you feel better. 

(You don’t really care, so long as you get to hear Agatha’s laugh.)

Maybe you should’ve questioned whether Agatha’s jokes were a little too much sometimes. The fact that they were enough to make you squirm in your chair sometimes could probably attest to that. But, you always make those types of jokes with your friends. Darcy and your friendship practically revolves around pretend flirting with each other, so this was probably equitable, right?

“Do you have more papers for this class coming up?” Agatha asks. 

“One more before our final project.” 

“Well, sounds like you have plenty of opportunity to bring up the grade then!” 

“That’s true. This one still stings, though. She could’ve at least told me some of the things I did well. Not just all my stupid mistakes,” you admit, twisting the new fidget toy Agatha added to her collection with your fingers. Your attention is fully on the toy as you avoid eye contact, the way you always do when you feel that anxiety tightening in your chest. Agatha gives you a moment of silence before she speaks again. 

“Hey, look at me,” she scoots closer to you, putting her hands over your own as the fidgeting gets shakier. You look up and meet her gaze. Her face is but a breath away from you, and you hold your own out of fear. 

The intense warmth you feel as you watch her eyes flicker across your face, lingering just this side of too long on your lips, takes over your entire body. Her unwavering stare invites you in and threatens to eat you whole. 

And, god, you’re so sure that you would let her. 

Not even sexually. (Well, that too). But you feel safe in her presence. There’s no pressure to pretend like you’re a perfect person that does shitty things sometimes. No pressure to act like sometimes you’re not falling apart at the seams. 

And even when the seams rip sometimes (which Agatha has certainly seen in a couple of your sessions), she’s been here to help sew you back up, giving you the reassurance that you can’t ever give yourself, that you’re growing to constantly crave in every decision you make. 

 “One paper will not ruin your life. Hell, multiple papers won’t ruin your life. But also, it’s okay to be upset about it.” Agatha’s thumbs rub soothingly against your hands, and the tenderness of the motion helps you forget how your hands are the only thing between hers and your inner thighs. “Your grades don’t define you, honey. You’ve got so many more things going for you than just a GPA.”

“Sure doesn’t feel like it sometimes,” you mumble. You’re not-so-secretly fishing for a compliment, and Agatha knowingly takes the bait. 

“Well, I can certainly think of a few. You’re clever, for one thing. And very sweet, especially when you bring me an iced coffee,” Agatha moves away from you for a second to grab the aforementioned drink and take a sip for effect. It pulls you out of your moping and earns her a laugh. She doesn’t return her hands to your own, but rests one of them on your knee, repeating that same circular motion with her thumb. You’d probably pull away if it wasn’t difficult to rearrange yourself from your criss-cross sitting position and the little room Agatha’s left you to move. But, with the way the touch sends electricity across your skin makes you glad that there isn’t room to pull away. “Not to mention, you’re certainly easy on the eyes, baby.” 

 “Then maybe I should just sleep with the professor,” you reply, trying to ignore the way your heart is racing. You were definitely not oblivious to the ways that Agatha checked you out. She was pretty obvious about it, but like everything she does, that must be intentional. “That should get me an easy A, right?”

“It sure would work on me. Just make sure you tell me all of the juicy details, sweetheart,” Agatha winks. 

“Of course,” you tease back. “I promised to be more open, didn’t I?”

“You did. And you’re doing so well, darling,” she pats your knee affectionately before rolling her chair back to her desk as the alarm signalling the end of your session goes off. You practically glow under the praise. 

On your way out, you wonder to yourself if you’ve given Agatha new reinforcement methods when you talked about your need for reassurance. Plus, you can’t stop thinking about Agatha’s touch, either. All of those little moments stick in your brain and create a certain itch that can’t be scratched. Not until you see her again. 

Or, it’s temporarily relieved when your hand finds its way between your legs at night, wishing that it was Agatha tracing your folds and whispering against your skin how good you are. But even after you’ve made yourself cum, you feel unsatisfied. A little empty. 

The thought of Agatha holding you tight against her chest is the only thing that helps you finally drift off to sleep. 

//

“Sorry, sorry! I know I’m late!” Your chest heaves as you try to catch your breath. The waitress that just set down waters for Wanda and Monica raises an eyebrow at your disheveled appearance and quickly goes to get a glass for you as well. You try to thank her, but Wanda just tugs you down into the booth next to her.

“It’s nothing,” Monica waves off your apology. “I’m just glad you could finally grace us with your presence.” 

“Yeah, you seem to be even busier than usual,” Wanda comments. 

“Well, it’s almost finals season,” you explain, still out of breath from the way you ran from your car. “Plus, my therapy appointments had to be moved around the past couple of weeks ‘cuz of Agatha’s other patients rescheduling a bunch. So I had to make time for that.” 

“I thought that was only like, once a week?” 

“Twice, now.” 

“The semester’s really been that bad? I thought you liked most of your classes,” Monica asks, concern gracing her features. 

“Eh, it’s about as stressful as it always is,” you shrug. “But my anxiety has been much less intense when I have therapy, so Agatha suggested maybe increasing the times I see her would make it even more manageable.” 

Wanda nods in understanding, but Monica purses her lips, obviously tempted to keep prying. She doesn’t, thankfully. But you can tell that even as the three of you start talking about other things that she’s trying to figure out how to approach you with more questions without making things tense. 

Your mind starts wandering as Monica explains some technical engineering project she’s working on that you can’t comprehend, and then you notice your phone light up. The name that appears in the notification makes you smile, and you immediately reply back. 

“Ooh, that’s a very happy face. Who’re you texting? New girlfriend?” Wanda asks, poking your side playfully. 

“What? No,” you roll your eyes. “It’s just Agatha.” 

“Agatha?” Monica squints at you. “As in, your therapist Agatha?” 

“Yes?” You can feel the judgement coming and are quick to defend yourself before any accusation is even made. “Tons of people have their therapist’s number. It’s not a big deal. She likes to check in and ask how my day is going. She just wants to know if I can get coffee today.”

“Pretty sure they usually don’t do that,” Monica says, apprehension growing stronger by the second. “Is she texting all her patients for life updates or coffee dates?” 

“She’s done that with me,” Wanda shrugs, stabbing a forkful of salad. “Not as much anymore, but still.” 

“See?” You gesture to Wanda. “Not weird! And Wanda’s been doing great since she started seeing Agatha. Her methods clearly work.” 

“I’m not saying they don’t,” Monica’s eyes flick between you and Wanda. “But I’m just worried about you becoming dependent on Agatha, because it seems to me like you’re leaning on her a lot for support.” 

“Dependent? I’m just going to therapy, Monica. Isn’t she supposed to support me?”

“Yes, but--”

“And weren’t you one of the ones who suggested that it would help me manage my stress?” You scoff. Monica doesn’t reply to that, because she knows it’s true. It was out of love, of course. She was easily the most reasonable out of your circle of friends (not that it was tough competition with Wanda and Darcy around). Wanda is silently watching the argument with rapt attention. You kind of wish she’d support you more, but you also feel kind of bad, because you know Monica is just looking out for you. “Guess what? My stress is being managed!” 

“Look,” Monica sighs and raises her hands in defeat. “I’m so, so glad that this is working for you. But I also know that it’s important that you feel like you have everything under control even when you’re not sitting in Agatha’s office. And no matter how much you like your therapist, there’s a line that shouldn’t be crossed.” 

“No lines are being crossed,” you huff. You stand up abruptly and shuffle through your wallet and throw some cash down on the table. Monica rubs her temples, and Wanda tries to stop you from leaving. “I’m not doing anything I don’t want to. I appreciate the concern, but I think I need to leave now.”

Monica is civil as she bids you goodbye, telling you that she’ll see you soon. Wanda tells you that she’s demanding another lunch soon, and you give them both a flippant wave as response. 

Just as you’re leaving, you notice that you have several more notifications from Agatha, repeatedly asking you to answer her coffee request. Monica’s words pick at your brain, but the thought of seeing Agatha today eases all of the tension that the argument had created in your body. 

You finally respond and tell Agatha that you’ll meet her in an hour. 

//

The argument with Monica was temporarily relieved by getting coffee with Agatha that day. She reassured you that she would never do anything that she didn’t think you’d be okay with (not that you’d had any doubts). But when Monica asked to get lunch again as an apology for the disagreement, the churning in your stomach made you feel terrible every time you thought about it, so you ended up cancelling last minute. 

And you did the same with Wanda the next day. You made up an excuse about having too many things to do. It wasn’t a complete lie. But the work wasn’t so difficult or important that you didn’t spend time texting Agatha while you were doing it. 

Even Darcy, who uses up the absolute least amount of your social battery got caught up in the whole thing. The idea of even sitting around and watching a trashy movie with her sounds like effort that you’d rather put elsewhere. She’s surprised, since you almost never turn her down, but doesn’t question it at all. 

It sucks when you can so easily bail on your friends, but you also feel immense guilt over letting them down. It eats you up from the inside out, and you desperately want to scratch at your skin because it feels like the anxiety is trying to claw its way out of you and and and--

Breathe.

The voice in your head centers you. You flex your fingers, bad feelings still bubbling and threatening to spill over.

You’re okay. 

The voice is Agatha’s. It makes you realize that it’s Tuesday. You can see her today. She can take the bad feelings away and replace them with her warmth. The warmth that you crave every day. The warmth that makes you think you finally understand what love should feel like. The warmth that soothes you, swaddles you, swallows you. 

And everything will be okay once it does.

Agatha, the professional that she is, immediately knows that you’re worse for wear than you have been in quite a few weeks. She already knows generally what’s going on with you, since you were consistently in contact over the past week, but she sees the exhaustion on your face and wants nothing more than to take it all away from you. 

“Oh, dear. You’re looking like something the cat dragged in. C’mere, come tell mommy about it,” Agatha coos when she sees the dark circles under your eyes. The sudden nickname sends a slight shiver down your spine, but your mind is too preoccupied to come up with a teasing response. 

You sit in your normal spot on the couch, but instead of sitting at her office chair like she usually does, Agatha comes over and sits next to you. She watches your leg bounce nervously and wraps an arm around you, pulling you closer to her. You’re so nervous having this much contact with her that you can’t even look in her direction. 

“Tell me, baby. What’s so heavy on your mind today?”

“I’m just,” you sigh, feeling a tightness deep in your chest, threatening to explode and shatter your ribs into a million tiny pieces. And then you finally look up from your fidgeting hands, making eye contact with Agatha. 

You remember. You’re here. This is your safe spot. Agatha is here, and you’re safe with her. One look from her, and the tightness unravels, like a ball of tangled up yarn. She can patiently undo all of your knots and gently even you out again. 

Agatha is the only one who can.

“I’m afraid,” you finally blurt out, eyes darting away from her again. Agatha’s grip tightens on your shoulder, not in a threatening way, but to ground you. 

“Of what?” 

A beat of silence. 

You swear you can feel your heartbeat. It feels like it’s thrashing against your ribcage, even though you know that’s anatomically impossible. You take a deep breath. And with your exhale, your insecurities come spilling out. 

“Not being good enough. I’m afraid of not being good enough. And disappointing my friends. Enough so that they leave me. They all have better friends anyway. Why stick around with the one who bails out of every plan? The one who can’t even muster enough energy to watch a movie with them for some reason? But then I feel bad about it all, which is stupid, because I’m the one who bails. I don’t even know why I do it. They’ve been so good to me. They’re the reason I get to see you, and this has been one of the best things that’s happened to me,” you admit. “But I still keep pushing them away.” 

Agatha hums, thinking over what you’ve said. Her hand rubs your shoulder gently, and you want nothing more than to fully lean into her. But a voice in your head (which sounds a little too much like Monica) tells you not to. 

“Has this been a problem for a while?” 

“Kinda,” you shrug. “When I’m really overwhelmed with school I tend to shut down more. But it feels like it’s gotten worse lately. Which is really weird, because I feel like when I’m here, all my anxiety gets pushed away. Then it just comes back when I start trying to hang out with the others.” 

“Maybe we should focus more on the things that make you feel good, rather than what doesn’t,” Agatha suggests. You don’t look up at her again, but you nod. “You say you feel better when you’re here, right? We can have longer sessions, if you’d like.” 

“Maybe. It actually helped a lot when we talked outside of our appointments,” you admit. “But I don’t want to be constantly bothering--” 

“Sweetheart, you’re never a bother to me,” Agatha interrupts before you dare finish your sentence. “That’s why I’m here. I’d love to talk to you more outside of the office. Is there anything else that you can think of that helps?” 

“I...I’m not sure,” you whisper. “I’ve never been really good at the whole ‘self-care’ thing. I’d honestly prefer if there was just a way for someone else to do all that for me, y’know?” 

If you were looking at her, you would’ve been able to see Agatha’s eyes light up at what you said. Instead, you feel her hand touch your face, and she tilts your head so that you’re facing her again. You try to blink away the few tears that have formed against your will without her noticing, but of course she doesn’t miss it. Her thumbs wipe them away as they fall, and you tremble under her touch. 

“I think that I might have an idea that will work for you,” Agatha says. You furrow your eyebrows at her, silently asking for her to elaborate. “A way I can take care of you, when you can’t do it yourself. A distraction from all those noisy thoughts inside of your head.” 

“Oh,” you wrack your brain trying to figure out what she’s getting at. It sounds promising, though, being distracted from your anxiety long enough to clear your head. “Okay.” 

“Wonderful. Now, get on your knees.” 

Wait. 

“What?” 

“Do you trust me?” Her hand trails down from cradling your face to resting on your neck. You can feel her fingers twitching against your throat, like she’s trying to resist the urge to squeeze. 

“I don’t know,” you gulp. Fingers twitch against your throat again. Suddenly, those fleeting fantasies that you’ve failed to force out of your mind are much closer to reality than you ever imagined they would be. “I mean, I do trust you! I just don’t think this is something we’re allowed to do.” 

“I think I know the rules of this a bit better than you do, honey,” Agatha looks at the framed degrees on her wall pointedly. “Besides, this method worked wonders with Wanda.” 

“Really?” you pull away from her. You recall the way that Wanda mentioned how Agatha would text her and meet up with her the same way that she does with you. 

Was this Agatha’s endgame the whole time?

“Yep. You can ask her yourself, I’m sure she’d tell you how much she loved it,” Agatha winks. 

There are about a million thoughts running through your head right now. You know that it’s wrong. Hell, Agatha could lose her career for this, maybe even worse. But it’s also something that you’ve wanted since that first session. Maybe if it was just once, no harm would be done? But then, if someone like Monica found out, even one time could put you and Agatha in hot water. 

Every conflicting thought in your head is too loud, and you don’t even realize that your breathing has picked up. It’s all too loud, too much to think about. You can’t make this decision. 

As if she can read your mind, Agatha moves closer to you again, stroking your face and kissing your cheek softly. Your eyes flutter close at the tender contact, and you calm down enough to steady your breathing back to normal. 

The way your world centers again helps you finally realize that you don’t want to make this decision. You want - need - Agatha to choose for you. 

You look up at her pleadingly, fighting for the words to ask her to take control. Luckily, she understands, whispering praise as she guides you strip and kneel in front of the couch. Her hands glide teasingly over your body as she helps take your shirt and jeans off, leaving goosebumps in their wake. 

She won’t let you shy away from her either, leaving kisses and bites along your skin when you try to cover yourself as your clothes are tossed to the floor piece by piece. Once your underwear has come off, you finally kneel in the spot she’s told you to, and watch as she goes to her desk to get something. 

“You look so perfect on your knees for me, baby. I could keep you like this for hours,” Agatha says when she comes back into your vision. Your core aches for attention, only growing needier by the second. You whine at her proposition. She just laughs, sitting down on the couch again and patting your cheek. “Don’t worry, honey. I won’t do that to you today. Now, come sit in mommy’s lap.” 

You scramble to obey her, straddling her lap and waiting eagerly for your next instructions. Her fingers run through your folds, collecting the wetness that’s gathered there and teasing around your clit. You try not to grind against her hand, biting your lip to hold back a moan when she dips two fingertips into your eager cunt. 

“Ah ah, no,” Agatha scolds you. You frown, scrunching your face in confusion. She can’t resist kissing the tip of your nose before explaining, “Don’t hold back from me. I want to hear you.” 

“But what if someone catches us?” 

“That’s for me to worry about,” Agatha assures you. Her fingers push all the way into you, and you drop your head against her shoulder and groan into her neck. “All you have to worry about is being a good girl for me.” 

You nod and let yourself moan against Agatha’s skin as she starts pumping into you. Her fingers are so long and feel so good stretching your pussy. She starts curling them inside of you, and you can feel your thighs shaking when she picks up the pace. The dark purple sweater that she’s wearing feels soft in your fists as you hold onto her for dear life, like you’re afraid of being so overcome by pleasure that you evaporate. 

“God, look at you,” Agatha practically growls. Suddenly, your cunt is empty, and you can’t help whimpering. You watch as she brings her fingers to her mouth and sucks your juices off of them, cunt clenching when you hear her moan for the first time. “Shit, baby. I don’t know how I’m going to be able to resist you ever again after tasting that pussy.” 

“You don’t have to, mommy.” The title falls from your lips easily. Agatha’s hand that was steading your hips tightens, leaving little crescent shaped marks where her short nails dig into your skin. “I’m yours.” 

“Say it again,” Agatha orders, fingers diving back into your cunt. This time, she has three fingers buried inside of you, and you feel so full and so good that you’re almost tempted to ask for another finger. Before you can even think about it, you feel vibrations against your clit and practically scream from how good it feels. Agatha presses the vibrator harder against you as she fucks you with her fingers, repeating darkly, “Say it again, slut. Tell me who you belong to.” 

“You! I belong to you, Agatha.” 

“What about this pussy, hm?” 

“You own my pussy, mommy,” you moan as she ups the intensity of the vibrator. You know that you must be dripping now. You can hear how wet you are as Agatha thrusts into you, and you must be soaking Agatha’s pants, but she doesn’t seem to care. “You own all of me. I-I…” 

The words are lost in your throat as Agatha captures your lips, swallowing the moans that spill from your mouth. She barely pulls back, lips still grazing your own, as she asks, “What is it, baby? What do you need?” 

“Need to cum, mommy, please. I need it so bad,” you whine, completely lost in the haze of submission. The only thing that you can think about is Agatha and her fingers that are sending pleasure through your entire body. 

“Yes, baby. Come for me,” Agatha mumbles against your lips, kissing you again as she curls her fingers inside of you rapidly, pressing against the spot against your walls that you can never quite reach yourself. 

The orgasm that takes over your body erupts so suddenly that you have to cling to Agatha to stay upright. She yanks the vibrator away, but her fingers stay inside of you, pumping slowly still as your body shakes with your climax. Agatha groans at the way your walls clench her fingers, thinking of all the ways she can stretch you out later. 

As you come down from your high, your head feels so fuzzy that you only vaguely register Agatha removing her fingers. Your thighs are sticky, and there are beads of sweat running down your body, but you don’t care. Agatha doesn’t seem to either, pulling you so that you’re pressed almost completely against her while she cradles your head and strokes your hair. She coos praises in your ear, and it makes your entire being feel like it's floating among the clouds. 

“Thank you,” you finally mumble into her neck, voice hoarse from exhaustion. Agatha just kisses your temple and pulls you impossibly closer. 

“Of course, darling. You’re mine now, and I’m going to take such good care of you.”