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our-blood-is-our-ink · 5 months

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Careful Creatures

Ship(s): Hela x Agatha, Agatha x Wanda, Wanda x Hela, Hela x Agatha x Wanda

Summary: Three powerful beings broken down back to the start somehow find themselves brought together as they relearn themselves and each other

Word Count: 1.6k

Warnings: angst, descriptions of being burnt, mild gore, sexual assault/non-con/rape, abuse of alcohol/alcoholism/addiction, amnesia, domestic violence, implied use of roofing drugs

Disclaimer: 18+ ONLY MINORS DNI

A/N: Please READ THE WARNINGS before proceeding. If this were on AO3 it would be rate E for explicit material later on in the series, and M for mature material for the heavy content this story deals in

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Chapter One

She falls in a blaze.

Green and gold and black, streaking through the heavens and flames, like some dying star in need of a desperate wish of its own.

Her skin burns and blisters and blackens, smoke filling her lungs, choking off the last vestiges of air they held.

In space, no one hears you scream.

In space, no one sees the last of a once beautiful and powerful empire crumple to nothing but debris and dust, exploding violently outwards as Ragnarok rages its final breath.

Her cheeks become adorn with the cleansing water of her own tears as she mourns, the prophecy she had been bound to at last releasing its shackles on her.

In space, no one sees her cry.

She tumbles through the darkness, with no force to counteract against her initial velocity, and she hurls through the celestial skies.

Eventually, even her godly body cannot handle the vast emptiness of space.

Her eyes slip shut, her breathing slows, and as she falls and falls and falls, she slumbers.

—»•«—

Agnes stumbles up the stairs, her feet tripping over one another as the world seems to spin.

“That you?” Her husband’s voice calls from their bedroom.

Agnes opens her mouth, the words yes, dear on the tip of her tongue, when she suddenly bolts for the bathroom.

As she's heaving her insides out, Ralph’s large hand painfully yanks her hair in a bunch away from her face.

“Get it all out now, I don't want you soiling the bed.” He snaps, impatient.

Agnes shivers as she retches. It was more than the ever-oppressing feeling that something wasn’t right that drove her to stay out drinking until the bars closed.

Eventually, she has nothing left in her stomach to vomit up, and she half collapses against the cool porcelain.

Her relief is short-lived, but she doesn't fight as Ralph manhandles her.

He is her husband. When she married him, she committed herself before the eyes of God that she would be a faithful wife.

Ralph doesn't like it when she's vocal, so she bites her tongue and lets herself get lost in the dizziness her mind is experiencing and doesn't make a noise of protest or pain as he shoves her to the floor and pulls down her pants.

This is her test to bear, for making her mistakes.

You don't deserve this.

—»•«—

Wanda awakens in a cave.

It's not the oddest place she's ever woken up, though how she's so sure of that, she can't really say.

It must be a gut feeling, she decides, as she tries to think.

She knows her name, that's good.

Her age–

She's… Twenty-six? Thirty-two? She can't recall.

That's… Not normal, right?

She places a hand on a rough wall, trying to steady herself as she walks on shaky legs.

Her name is Wanda… Wanda something. Something… Off? Romanoff? No, that's not right. Romanoff was…

Wanda grits her teeth.

She knows enough that her last name isn't Romanoff, but can't remember whose last name is.

That's extremely frustrating.

Wanda stumbles along the cave, trying to find the way out, and wishes Pietro were here.

Pietro. Her brother. Her twin brother. Her brother who–

A stream of bullets hits through her chest, and she collapses to her knees, screaming her pain.

Wanda violently shakes her head, clutching it.

“Get it together, Maximoff.” She reprimands herself, before realizing what she's said.

Maximoff.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff.

That's good. It means she isn't totally amnesic.

She goes over what she knows as she begins to feel a soft breeze against her face.

Her name is Wanda Maximoff. She had a twin brother, Pietro Maximoff, who died by being gunned down. She doesn't know exactly how old she is, but she's somewhere in her late twenties, early thirties. Her parents… She doesn't remember her parents. Possibly dead, almost certainly impossible to find or reach if they aren't. She knows– knew? Knew someone with the surname Romanoff. Someone who… She stole a jacket from? Why was she remembering this and not useful information, like how did she get here? And where is here? And are there people who will be looking for her?

Dread pools in her belly.

People looking for her feels like an ominous statement.

She misses… She misses someone. Someone special. A lover, perhaps? A spouse? A… Child? She’s old enough to have had at least one.

Wanda isn't sure.

Light begins to hurt her eyes.

She's made it to the exit of the cave!

She hobbles, running as best she can, eager, bursting out into open air and freedom and–

Oh.

Oh no.

—»•«—

She burns again, still streaking green and gold and black, but this time, through the atmosphere of a planet.

When she lands, she craters the forest floor and doesn't move.

—»•«—

“Day drinking, Agnes?” Dottie clicks her tongue from behind the brown-haired woman. “I keep telling you we have a decent AA here.”

Agnes does her best to laugh off the comment.

“Oh, you know dear, it's five o’clock somewhere!”

Dottie slides into the seat across from her.

“Look. Your neighbors, I don't know if you know them, the Johnsons, they well… Mrs. Johnson said that late one night when she was just finishing putting the baby back down after a late night bottle feed, that she saw your bedroom window was open–”

“I'm sure whatever she saw she mistaken, Dot.” Agnes smiles as charmingly as she can. “You know how those late nights are with a newborn!”

“She said that Ralph was choking you, Agnes.”

Agnes’s smile slides off her face.

“If my husband,” she stresses, “had been choking me, I would have bruises.”

Dottie’s eyes flick to Agnes’s neck, which is both bare of discoloration, and the tell-tale texture of makeup.

Agnes swings back some of the brunch mimosa in her hand, closing her eyes briefly to gain strength from it.

“Ralph is a wonderful husband. He would never hurt me.” Agnes lies through her teeth. “Is that all why you decided to pay me a social visit during some of my “me” time?”

Dottie shifts, clearly uncomfortable.

“Agnes…” She trails, trying to find the words. “If you ever did need help, Eastwood– I mean, Westview is here for you.”

Agnes turns her smile all the way up to its brightest wattage. “Will keep that in mind, toots! Thanks for stopping by brunch to talk with this ol’ gal!”

Dottie hesitates before she stands and leaves.

Agnes's wildly beating heart doesn't slow until her fifth post-Dottie mimosa has been downed.

The truth is, Ralph does have a habit of choking her… But the bruises always fade by the next afternoon, rapidly going through the stages of healing broken blood vessels startling fast.

Agnes can't recall ever having healed that way before.

No, healing meant fire and death, healing meant agony for days and weeks because she was only ever meant to hurt, not heal.

Agnes shakes her head as if trying to dislodge the sudden pressure she feels.

That's something she has noticed.

Thinking about her past causes her awful headaches and terrible migraines.

It's best to keep to the present.

Agnes smiles at the hostess as she leaves the venue, not worried about paying.

The people of Westview took care of one another.

She doesn't notice the woman with the dark hair and piercing blue eyes who stands up and leaves after her.

—»•«—

It's been two days since Wanda had started off down the rest of what looked like an intimidating mountain, headed towards what looks to be a promising sign of life in the vibrancy of green trees.

Hopefully, there will be water somewhere there.

Wanda knows she has only twenty-four more hours until her body gives out from lack of hydration.

Her heart skips a beat, and the hairs on the back of her neck rise.

Hydration.

Hydra.

Hydra was… Bad.

Hydra is bad.

The word gives her a bad feeling.

She keeps on, not even pausing as the tremors grow stronger from the mountain.

The ruins that lay in pieces everywhere, even so far down from the top where it once resided, make Wanda feel awful enough that she had nearly vomited the first time stepping out into the world and seeing it.

She avoids touching any part of it as best she is able.

She can hear rocks sliding somewhere to her left.

Distant.

Her shoulders drop an inch.

She isn't in direct danger. Not yet.

—»•«—

Ralph’s at the bar.

Ralph’s at the bar and he has all his friends there and she didn't know that the bartender used to date him and–

Agnes is vocal as rough hands grasp at her, groping and tugging and searching as their owners laugh.

“Here, dear.” Ralph’s voice is cold. Mocking. “I know how much you like your alcohol. Drink up.”

She doesn't have a choice, surrounded, as he passes her a cup.

Within moments of finishing it, she knows.

There's more laughter.

“So kind of that Maximoff bitch to leave you a wife.” Someone comments.

“To Ralph, and his whore!” Someone else shouts, to resounding cheers.

Agnes wants to scream for help, but the room is spinning and her limbs won't obey her instructions and her mouth feels too heavy to move and then–

—»•«—

No.

—»•«—

The ground slopes slightly, and grass turns to dirt as Wanda follows the stream she found.

Deeper and deeper it slopes, until she's been walking for at least half an hour, and then she sees a mess of blood and green.

—»•«—

The door bursts open, crashing loudly, just as her hands find their way around the nearest man’s throat, a knee jerked violently up between his legs.

The room freezes. She smirks, throws her head back, and cackles.

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thelilreddragon · 28 days

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what's ur wanda×agatha headcanons?

Headcanon 1:

“I missed you.”

“I literally went out to get cat food.”

“But you were gone for soooo long.��

“How you survived over 350 years without me, I have no clue.”

“And you did better with 30?”

“Shut up.”

“Sokovia, Lagos, Toaster-ma- mph. You can’t kiss me to shut me up!”

“Watch me.”

(Cat moms, Clingy Agatha, Sarcastic Wanda, Sarcastic Agatha)

#marvel #harximoff #wagatha #wanda x agatha #headcanons

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aparticularbandit · 4 months

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Instigation: Chapter One

Summary: Steve sends Wanda to seek out an old witch he once knew, and eventually, Wanda brings said old witch back to meet her family.

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

next chapter

Mid-May, 2015.

Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum.

It’s an impressive building. Huge. Gorgeous glass with a shape that might as well be mystical etched into it in shining gold. The top is a dome, which is even more impressive given its age. It literally gleams in the sunlight, which is odd, given how many pass it by without even stopping to look. But, then, they’re probably used to it. They see it every day. If she lived here, maybe she would be used to it, too.

But Wanda doesn’t live here. Even now, she only lives on the outskirts of town, and live is an interesting word. She has no American citizenship, nothing to say she deserves to be here, nothing to say she can stay if the government—

The government isn’t going to send her away because the Avengers, that superpowered super team, has decided to keep her here. With them. It’s the same as before: she becomes immune to government interference because a more powerful political opponent takes her under her wing. Never mind that these Avengers are apparently good. She’d thought the same of Hydra.

It’s easy to believe when she wants to believe.

Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum with a slip of paper in her hands, looks down at the address on the paper, reads it for what feels like the millionth time, looks back up at the Sanctum, squints, and then walks past the Sanctum to the apartment complex next door. It’s shabby. Old. Probably as old as the Sanctum itself, if not older, and probably more expensive to live in, even with what are likely horrible apartments. She knows a thing or two about those; when they could afford it, she and Pietro lived in plenty.

“You have got to be joking,” Wanda murmurs in her thick accent. She glances down at the address one more time – and, yes, there’s an apartment number on there, so it’s definitely the apartment complex Steve meant and not the much bigger and more impressive Sanctum.

“When I was a boy,” Steve had said, “there was a woman with power similar to yours who lived here. We didn’t see her very often; Mom told me to have nothing to do with her. But every now and again, when she was desperate enough—”

“Sounds like an old fairytale,” Wanda had cut him off. “I don’t need a cottage witch. I don’t do magic.”

But Steve insisted Wanda at least go check the place out. Seventy years might be a long time, but she could still be alive. She’d be in her nineties, but with her power, he was certain she’d still be around. Or maybe a new “witch” lived there, someone who took on that woman’s place in society. Vision looked up the apartment and the records of ownership, finding that whoever lived there in the forties still lived there now. Wanda chalked that up to rent control and an apartment that got passed down to a son or daughter or gifted to a family friend, and for a while, she adamantly refused to check things out.

Eventually, though, Wanda grew so tired of Steve’s insistence that she agreed to go. Nat even offered to join her, although Steve’s stories reminded her of so much folklore that it made her uncomfortable, but she told her there was no point. She wasn’t going to find anyone there and didn’t want anyone else to waste their time going with her. Now, though, standing in front of the apartment complex, she decided there was one good thing about being here: if she struck out at the apartment, she could always check out the Sanctum next door.

Not that she believes her powers have anything to do with magic.

Wanda walks into the apartment, only to find that it smells of dust and mildew, and walks along the very, very long hallway to a door waiting at the very end, one situated on the side that looks out on the Sanctum. She checks the number, checks her paper again, and then steels her face before climbing three floors of stairs, all the way to the top of the building. It doesn’t matter how high up she gets, the Sanctum next door is still taller, and what’s worse is that the smoke that she hadn’t smelled on the first floor seeps into the air on the second and grows stronger with each floor.

Dirty, dank, and disgusting. Just like the apartments she’d lived in with Pietro. But that doesn’t make this smell like home.

On the top floor, at the apartment that holds the same space as the one she’d checked previously, Wanda reads the number, reads her paper again, and sighs. It matches. Well, then, this is her stop. She steps forward and knocks on the door twice, not as loud as she could, but not too soft either.

“Whatever you’re selling, I don’t want any!” comes calling from within.

“I’m not selling anything,” Wanda says, cheeks flushing quickly with frustration. “A friend of mine sent me to see an….” She checks the paper again, trying to read Steve’s not so tidy scrawl. “Agatha Harkness?”

There’s some shuffling inside the apartment before the door cracks open. “Who wants to know?”

Wanda stares at the woman standing in the doorframe. “Um.”

See, Wanda wouldn’t have really cared too terribly much about the woman’s appearance in and of itself. She’s attractive, sure, and there’s something about how wild her dark hair is that makes Wanda want to tangle her fingers in it, to pull her to her, and, in an attempt to tame it, make it excessively worse. But she can ignore that, she can ignore the woman’s pale skin, she can even ignore the light smattering of freckles across the bridge of her nose, but what she can’t ignore is that the woman is dressed in a t-shirt that barely makes its way down to her bare thighs because she isn’t wearing any pants.

“Hey, hon.” The woman’s voice breaks through Wanda’s thoughts. “My eyes are up here.”

Wanda jumps. “Sorry, sorry.” She runs her fingers through her hair and draws her eyes back up, trying not to linger on the woman’s body any longer than she already has, but then she meets her eyes, thinking that will make things easier, and has to stop again. “Um.”

It honestly is not at all fair, how this woman looks and how she should be wearing more clothes. This is not her fault.

The woman smirks. “You’re not so bad yourself, toots.” She breaks eye contact with Wanda, lets her eyes wander the way Wanda’s already have, and deepens that smug look. “You wanted something?”

“You’re Agatha Harkness?” Wanda splutters out, refusing to believe it. Agatha Harkness was an adult when Steve was a child; she’s got to be ninety or a hundred or something like that. There’s no way this woman – this very attractive woman – is any older than her mid-thirties. She’s got to be a new resident. Or a hot daughter or grand-daughter or some sort of extended relative. This can’t be—

“Who wants to know?” the woman asks, eyes dropping to the paper now held tight in Wanda’s hand like a lifeline. “You said something about a friend, hon?”

“Uh, right, yes, right.” Wanda’s accent grows thicker as she grows more flustered, and she mutters in Sokovian under her breath with the assumption that the other woman can’t understand her. “Steve. Steve Rogers. He said his mother used to visit a witch here when he was a child.” She can’t help but roll her eyes. “He did not call her a witch, but she sounds like a fairytale to me.”

The woman listens to her words and gives a little nod. “Steve Rogers,” she echoes. “You mean that hunk they’re calling Captain America? Isn’t he a hundred years old?”

Wanda’s gaze shifts away from the woman. “Eighties. He’s in his eighties.” She bites her lower lip. “I told him she wouldn’t be here anymore, but he was so insistent that she could help me.”

“You got tired of his nagging, hon. Don’t try to shortchange it.”

“I got tired of his nagging,” Wanda admits. She glances up. “But you don’t look to be her, so—”

“Help you with what, doll?” the woman interrupts. She gives Wanda another onceover, and her smirk returns. “Don’t tell me you mean this attraction between us.”

Anyone else, and Wanda would grow so frustrated that she would have left without another word. But this woman….

She’s attractive, and Wanda can’t help it. She wants to show off.

“With this,” she says, lifting her hand and letting her power out. It turns the paper she’d been holding to ash, and as she turns her hand, letting the power thread through her fingertips, she lets the ash dump out onto the floor. For all that the complex smells horribly of smoke, her addition doesn’t hold the same scent. Then she brings her hand up, that scarlet power still snaking around her fingers. “He thought his old witch would be able to help with this.”

The woman’s eyes focus on the power, and its light reflects scarlet in her pupils. Surrounded by her bright blue irises, it seems like there’s a thin ring of deep purple between them. “What’s your name, hon?”

“Wanda,” she says, drawing her power back and letting her hand drop. “Wanda Maximoff.”

The woman takes Wanda’s hand in hers and squeezes. “Agnes Harker.” Then she tugs on Wanda’s hand and pulls her into the apartment, shutting the door behind her. “And I can teach you everything you need to know.”

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #instigation with wanda and co #mcu #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #agatha harkness #steve rogers #natasha romanov #vision mcu #mcu vision #harximoff #wandagatha #wagatha #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

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lost-on-t-umblr · 1 year

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Honestly we all talk about how we're useless lesbians simping for Agatha because she's a hot, powerful, dangerous female villain, but isn't Agatha a useless lesbian simping for Wanda because she sees her as a hot, powerful, dangerous female villain, too?

#agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #wandagatha #harximoff #wandavision #marvel #mcu #wanda x agatha #agatha coven of chaos

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marril96 · 10 months

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youtube

@wandagatha-week | day seven

soulmates

Storyline:

Agatha drives Wanda crazy to the point where she pursues her. Despite trying her hardest not to, she falls in love with her, but Agatha doesn't care. She thinks of their affair as a game. Having had enough, Wanda decides that if she can't have Agatha, no one else can, either.

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starbucksisamyth · 2 years

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Didn’t expect to see you back here.

#wanda x agatha #harximoff #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #wandavision #agatha x wanda

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p-taryn-dactyl · 1 year

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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!!

#agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #comic wanda maximoff #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #harximoff #agatha x wanda #harximoff fanfiction #witchy wives

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the-scarlet-witch-22 · 1 year

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I want to preface this by saying I’m not looking to fight anyone on this topic. I debated on if I should even say anything, but I’m going to. That being said, it is very, very aggravating to scroll through AO3 on the Wanda/Agatha pairing, looking for new stories to read and seeing a story with a word in the title that is an immediate trigger. I understand and know that there are ways to block content and tags on AO3 if you are logged in, I’m just in shock they felt the need to include that word in the title. Was that really necessary?

Again, I’m not looking to fight anyone, I’m just sad. I’m sad because I make a point of knowing what tags and content to avoid both on this website and on AO3, and that doesn’t seem to be enough? I’m also upset on the behalf of other people who may have the same, if not even worse reaction than me. I don’t think it’s a lot to ask to keep such a vulgar and despicable word out of the goddamn title of your story. It might not matter to you, but can we try to be considerate of others who went through something I wouldn’t wish upon absolutely anyone? Is that really so difficult to comprehend? It’s just a word to some but it’s an immediate flashback to so many others. I’m not going to bother posting the title or the author because I don’t wish to give them the satisfaction. I’m just going to say: thank you for reminding me why I tend to stay out of fandoms, and please try to do better.

#agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #harximoff

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sokovianemo · 1 year

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Wanda’s First Christmas

Summary: Wanda never celebrated Christmas as a kid, so Agatha gives her one

Tags: fluff bc Christmas, some talk of Wanda’s past, canon character deaths (mentioned), kinda hurt/comfort, lots of comfort, non-binary!Wanda (she/they), autistic!Wanda, ADHD!Agatha, them being cute, I love them sm.

Words:~1.3k~

Wanda Maximoff doesn’t remember too much about their childhood. It was rather messy.. their parents dying when she was only 10, if she ever even celebrated Christmas at home they couldn’t remember it.

Green eyes fluttered open as Wanda felt a bunch of soft tiny kisses placed all over their face, waking them up. “Good morning darling, time to wake up..” a soft voice whispered, a small peck placed on Wanda’s lips “it’s Christmas, and we’re celebrating.” Wanda frowned slightly, squinting their eyes at their girlfriend “But Ags, you hate Christmas..” Agatha sat up and smiled down at her partner “nonsense darling, I told you, we’re celebrating. Now get up.” She spoke, gently poking the redheads sides giving her a giggle in response. Wanda hums, closing her eyes “give me five minutes..” their girlfriend rolled her eyes before responding “let me think about that… no.” Agatha stood up from the bed, pulling Wanda up with her, earning her a squeal from the redhead.

“Come on come on come on Wanda!” Agatha held her partners wrist, their arms held in front of them like always, walking past a bunch of pine trees, “this one.” Agatha stopped, standing in front of a giant tree, Wanda looked up at it and then back at their girlfriend “Agatha that’s never gonna fit inside of our house.”, “I don’t care, we’re getting it.” Agatha let go of their wrist as they walked towards it some more “no we are not. Come.” Wanda quickly grabbed their girlfriends arm pulling her towards them. Agatha frowned “I’m trying to give you a good Christmas” the redhead shook her head at that “my love, I can have a great Christmas even with a smaller tree, or none at all.” The brunette sighed “okay fine..” she crossed her arms, her brows still furrowed, Wanda pouted, gently placing a kiss on their girlfriends cheek “don’t be so grumpy, we’re gonna get a tree that fits in our house.”

After getting a tree the two went back home, Agatha placing the tree inside the house while Wanda went up in the attic, they had bought decorations years ago. They always had planned to celebrate it, but when it came to it, she didn’t. Because why would they? They were always alone. “I don’t want you to use your powers for any of this” they spoke as they walked back down the stairs, Agatha groaned in response “that’s stupid.” Wanda smirked at the blue eyed woman “it’s not stupid. It’s more fun that way.” They handed her a box of decorations as they replied, Wanda wrapped the lights around a few of the branches before places them all around the tree, all while their girlfriend kept getting distracted by all of the shiny decorations in the box, they sat down on the floor as they reached the bottom. Packing out some ornaments Wanda all of a sudden stopped what she was doing and looked over at Agatha “do you think.. do you think the other Wanda’s twins are having a good Christmas?” Agatha looked over at her and frowned, without speaking she got down behind Wanda, pulling their back against her front, wrapping her arms around their waist before leaning her head on their shoulder “darling, you don’t have to worry about them, they’re doing great you know this.” Wanda sniffled a bit before nodding “well of course, they had a mother that allowed them to exist.” They scoffed, Agatha softly put a hand on their cheek, softly speaking “don’t say that, it’s not your fault. You’ll see them again my love, I promise you, you’ll be with them again.” Wanda turned their head slightly to kiss the inside of their girlfriends palm “thank you.. I’m sorry, I know it’s, this is supposed to be a good time and all..” she shakes her head a little. “No, no my love, don’t you apologize, you have done nothing wrong. It’s alright to be upset, now let’s go do something to keep your mind off it for a bit yes?” She kissed the redheads forehead, the redhead smiled a little sadly, pecking her girlfriends lips before nodding “yeah.. yeah that’d be nice”

The two were now in the kitchen, a half decorated Christmas tree in the living room, but that’s fine, Agatha will take care of it later, right now she just wanted to focus on Wanda, since the question they asked her a few minutes ago, Agatha hasn’t let go of Wanda, constantly touching her in a way so they know she’s there, she’s not going. Wether it’s holding her hand, hugging them from behind, Agatha is constantly trying to make sure Wanda knows. Wanda leaned her head against Agatha’s shoulder as the older woman held her from behind, “you’re distracting..” Wanda spoke, their accent prominent as it always was around her girlfriend, they were trying to make gingerbread men, and even though their girlfriend wanted to do it, she’d end up burning them. “Sorry..” Agatha moved to unwrap her arms from Wanda “no, don’t.” Wanda put her hand on Agatha’s arm “I didn’t say to let go..” Wanda turned their head and kissed Agatha’s cheek over and over “thank you for doing this for me.. I know you don’t particularly like Christmas and all” Agatha smiled and kissed the redheads nose “don’t worry sweetheart, for you I’d do anything, you know that” “still, thank you.. you make me very happy you know?” Wanda spoke in an almost monotone voice, to many people it would probably seem they were annoyed, or people describe her as cold. But Agatha knew them better, it’s just the way Wanda was, she cant read tone nor use it, they don’t understand what benefit it would have. “I know, darling, I know” Agatha kisses the side of her head again while Wanda was shaping the dough, rolling it out before pressing it into shapes and putting them on a baking tray, she put it all in the oven once it reached the right temperature, they moved to clean up. When they turned back around they saw their girlfriend messing with the temperature of the oven, swatting her hands away “off, I don’t want you burning this” they spoke before moving out of the kitchen, her girlfriend moving after her “I don’t burn things that is not true!”

A while later, Wanda came back to the kitchen after having taken the gingerbread men out of the oven to cool them they went to decorate them while Agatha was busy finishing decorating the tree, most likely taking hours seeing how easily distracted she usually is. Wanda enjoyed the sight of it, their girlfriend doing all these things for her when she herself doesn’t even like the holiday itself. They smiles to themself, shaking their head as they continue decorating. They stepped back into the living room to the sight of Agatha sitting on the couch, a blanket draped over her lap, she smiled and patted the spot next to her “come here..” Wanda nodded and sat next to her girlfriend who immediately wrapped them up in the blanket that was on her lap, if Agatha had learned one thing about her partner it’s that they were always cold. Her arms wrapped around her younger partner as they leaned their head on her shoulder, their face in her neck “what’s up with you?” She whispered to the redhead “just sleepy..” they sighed in return, Agatha smiled and ran a hand through their hair “rest, my love..” Wanda leaned away slightly and looked at their girlfriend “but its so early.. and its Christmas” they pouted, Agatha shook her head and got up, lifting her partner up with her, as she started carrying the younger person to their bedroom “well luckily for you, Christmas is two days.” She laid her partner down before kissing their forehead “merry Christmas, go to sleep..” Wanda smiled and wrapped her arms around Agatha, whispering “thank you.. merry Christmas, I love you” Agatha chuckled softly “I love you too, goodnight, little witch.” and with that, Wanda closed her eyes, falling asleep happy, for the first time in a while.

#wanda x agatha #wanda maximoff fic #sokovianemo writes #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness #wanda maximoff fluff #agatha harkness fic #agatha harkness fluff #harximoff fic #harximoff #wagatha

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moonlarked · 1 year

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you know what, fuck it.

mcu Wanda may be problematic, but harximoff and scarletstrange are s tier mcu ships.

#wanda maximoff #scarletstrange #harximoff #I’m not even into the mcu anymore #but mcu wanda will always be a part of me unfortunately #first character I really connected with

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satanic-nightjar · 4 months

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Wanda: Are you wearing eyeliner?

Agatha: Just a little. What do you think?

Wanda: It looks ok I guess.

[Later]

Wanda *mumbling, face in her pillow*: She looked so good

Vision: I know

Wanda: I think I’m kinda gay

Vision: I know

Vision: Wait- did you not know?

#marvel #mcu #wanda maximoff #agatha harkness #wanda x agatha #wagatha #harximoff #incorrect wanda maximoff #incorrect agatha harkness #platonic wandavision #wandavision #incorrect marvel quotes #incorrect mcu quotes #scarlet witch #wanda maximilf #vision #incorrect vision

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our-blood-is-our-ink · 10 months

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—✧ Day One: Villains ✧—

Wanda finds herself in Westview after her magic saved her from being crushed by Mount Wundagore

She wakes up to discover Agnes has been tending to her for a few days while she had been out cold

For a few weeks, she allows this to continue

But Agatha's voice has been steadily growing louder in her mind

So she releases the Agnes spell, after casting runes to prevent Agatha from immediately attacking her

I won't say I'm sorry, but I can promise to make it up to you, if you swear your allegiance to me.

Only if you swear the same to me, buttercup

They essentially married each other and neither of them have realized it

Agatha still has a lot of FeelingsTM and EmotionsTM about Wanda's treatment of her

She needs an outlet

Wanda, in a stroke of brilliance, points her in the direction of Dr. Strange

Your goals and my goals aren't mutually exclusive. I want my boys, you want to make up for your past mistakes. And he'll try to stop both of us.

Wanda doesn't think she's ever seen anything as hot as Agatha in midsts of magical battle

She actively decides then and there I want to make her worse

World domination, people. She plots world domination.

And for Agatha's part, there's just something oddly appealing about Wanda with a spark of cruelty and deviousness behind her eyes.

She wants to kiss her so bad

They're an unstoppable force, with Wanda's sheer magical power, and Agatha's hundreds of years of magical knowledge

The first time they fuck it's on a battlefield, they've just successfully decimated another country's entire military.

Agatha initiated, but she quickly finds herself on her knees

She had idolized the Scarlet Witch when she was younger, and now that she's older, she knows that she had been right to

Wanda is a proper goddess born of Earth and of humanity, but has ascended and become something more, something beyond. Something ethereal and eldritch, and Agatha craves her in a way she never has craved anything else

The destruction and chaos she wields... Is it any wonder Agatha has found herself as willing a plaything as she could be?

Wanda's expression always softens, just a bit, whenever Agatha submits to her

She knows that to control the dark being on her knees before her is a single found rarity that only she has been gifted with

They get off on being violent, and egg each other on to commit some the worst acts of inhumanity anyone has ever bore witness to

Their fingers stain darker and darker, until it's crept up past their elbows, until they live and breathe darkness

Unhinged dark wives fr fr

The Scarlet Witch's destiny is either to destroy or rule

Why not both? Agatha whispers in her ear. Why can't we have it all, after everything that has been taken and stolen from us?

Agatha's destiny is to stand side by side the most powerful being the universe has ever seen

They're hella possessive of each other too

Constantly marking the other up, constantly wearing hickies and love bites as badges of honor, of pride, of she chose me over everyone else

Their love for one another is twisted and warped, but it's stronger than anything the world or universe has seen

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thelilreddragon · 24 days

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Harximoff Drabble 2:

“Aggie, I’m hungry... I want snacks.”

“If you call me Aggie one more time… I swear to the goddess… Go get food then, dear.”

“Don’t wanna move. Did you buy the Easter chocolates I wanted?”

“You’re literally on top of me. And yes, dear. You kept reminding me.”

“Can you go an grab me some…” Wanda pauses, with a grin. “Mini Ags? Badum chss.”

Agatha sits up and pushes Wanda off the bed.

Authors Note: Should I start posting these to Ao3? I’ve never done that sort of thing before.

#harximoff #wagatha #marvel #wanda x agatha #agatha: darkhold diaries #ao3 #harkximoff #idk how to tag this #headcanons #dad jokes #humor #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #they’re so cute #they’re in love your honor

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aparticularbandit · 4 months

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Westview Holidays

Summary: Wanda and Agatha exert a great deal of magic for a Westview celebration, and Wanda has an idea on how to cool down afterwards.

Part of The Thrall of Decades collection.

Rating: T.

AO3

“You’re such a baby.”

“Excuse you, hon, I lived through events you can’t even imagine—”

“—and you’re still a baby.” Wanda looks over just long enough to catch Agatha’s expression – a moment of feigned hurt that pulls at her heart (unfortunately) before Agatha sticks her tongue out at her.

That was what she waiting for.

With a swipe of one hand, Wanda crafts a small metal pole out of thin air just where Agatha’s tongue ends. Agatha tries to pull her tongue back in, but now, in the cold air, the pole sticks to her tongue and thwacks hard against her lips.

It’s a small thing – conjuring a metal pole – but it’s more complicated to craft it within the scope of their present world, to have it at the right properties related to the cold air around them to get it stuck to Agatha’s tongue in the first place instead of it being created in a more neutral state of being. It’s tricky to do what Wanda’s just done, and Agatha’s eyes light with approval. She clicks her tongue, making a sound much more like the snapping of her fingertips, and the pole vanishes. “Good girl,” she purrs.

Wanda preens, smug.

“You can flirt when you’re done with the decorations,” Sarah calls from her perch near the front of the crowd, hands cupped around her mouth. Her husband nudges her with one elbow, and she continues. “No one wants to see that!” When Agatha shoots her a look, Sarah gives her a lopsided grin.

It’s more progress than Wanda thought was possible when she chose to stay in Westview, not that she’d been quite thinking about that when she decided to stay, and it’s more care than she’d thought anyone who’d undergone her unintentional abuse of the little town might ever even consider giving her, let alone actually give. To be forgiven and seen—

It’s a small miracle.

Agatha would call it magic.

Nearly a year has passed since Wanda returned to Westview for Agatha, since Agatha tested her little witch until she was convinced she was safe, since magic revealed to her the threads it used in tying them both together, threads Wanda hadn’t noticed (or, if she did, didn’t acknowledge) and Agatha hadn’t so much as attempted to untangle. Lover of magic she may be and still is, but even she can’t undo what magic wants, when it’s adamant about it. (It isn’t subtle, remember, and it is far more powerful than either witch alone, than even their powers combined, because all of that rests on the gift of magic in the first place. It would laugh.)

In that year, Wanda allowed Agatha to put constraints on her powers – constraints she could, of course, easily undo without even the wave of her hand. But Agatha said they were necessary. Then, when Wanda raised an eyebrow at her words, admitted that, strictly speaking, they weren’t technically necessary but elaborated that the constraint on her power would force her to learn true witchcraft, just as other witches throughout the centuries had. And while Wanda certainly didn’t need runes or incantations or anything as trivial as that, understanding the theory behind everything, the way magic felt within the hands of even the smallest user, would make her own, much more unwieldy crafting that much stronger.

And, more than strength, it would make it reliable.

Give her greater control.

For a witch who had struggled to understand and control her magic since she’d first gained it, even before she’d known it was magic in the truest sense of the word, Wanda yearned for that sense of control. So she agreed to the constraints, trusting Agatha in a way she would never have trusted her before.

(Not never would have trusted anyone because she would have trusted Vision, if she truly believed he knew what he was doing. Would have trusted her brother, if he’d thought she was more of a danger than she was a help. Had trusted Vision, for a while, when he’d kept her in the complex, away from everything and everyone else. But his form of constraint hadn’t taught her anything, had been purely reactive.

Agatha’s constraints were there to teach.)

For the past year, Agatha trained Wanda, teaching her the theory of magic, the subtle ways magic liked better than her blatant dinosaur clomping around, how to best protect herself when casting so that magic doesn’t become a drain on her, so that she ties it into something else as a source. And as Wanda grew, Agatha modified the restraints, shifting them so that Wanda could expand, stretch her wings—

Not fly. Not yet. But maybe something close to it.

Of course, this wasn’t the only thing that happened in the past year.

Agatha took Wanda out. In part to show the town that she wasn’t as dangerous as she once was and in part because she wanted to take her out. For dates, for movies (which they only paid attention to half of the time), for walks around the town for her their mental health. It was gentle. Soft. Nice.

They’d spent time with the new citizens who’d moved into Westview when those who wanted nothing to do with the city where they were so traumatized left, and while some of them were apprehensive of Wanda, most were pleased to meet a former Avenger. (Former because Wanda refused to use the term; former because while her magic was restrained, she didn’t feel comfortable trying to take on more powerful foes. Fortunately for them, no one came to call. Not in that year.) A few of the townspeople who’d originally decided to stay left once they realized Wanda, too, was staying; not all of them, which led to some dirty looks in the marketplace, even now, even a year out, but they know who they are, they know to stay away.

And, of course, they’d spent time with the handful who knew, who lived through it all, and who still cared about Wanda. Eventually, even Sarah’s daughter, Emily, met Wanda. They were friends now, or at least as close as they could be, considering.

Wanda hadn’t picked up a job, since she’d been focused entirely on her own studies, but Agatha continued to teach her kids and, on occasion, brought Wanda in to tell them stories. At first, she’d been apprehensive and quiet and uneasy. The first day she’d come in, all she did was sit and listen, and she’d been set to do so the second day, until one of the kids came up and asked for her help. It’d taken the kids warming up to her to get her to talk at all.

That was the thing people found they loved about the witches most: not their power, but their stories.

Stories made them human, made others human: Agatha’s of the ancient past and people to whom history gave only a sanitized view and Wanda’s of the recent past and people to whom media gave only a superheroic view. They took people down from their pedestal and made them real.

Westview thrived on that.

Now, though, today, with Wanda’s restraints half gone, the two witches are putting on a sort of public display for the whole town to enjoy. Even though a select few of the townspeople groaned about it, and even though an even more select few refused to attend outright simply due to Wanda’s involvement, most of them are there, front and center, as the two craft holiday decorations.

They started with the tree – Wanda breaking apart the ground in the center of town so that Agatha could cause a tree to sprout from soil beneath. (Symbolism. They practiced this.) Then Agatha covered the tree with small candles ignited with smaller, flickering flames, leaving them for a few moments before Wanda captured the flames in little glass bulbs and left them strung around the tree as its new lights. As soon as she finishes, the streetlamps around the town flash and flicker before changing into the same fire encased in clear bulbs as the tinier lights on the tree, each with a bright ribbon tying itself out of the air in different colors – red, green, blue, white, yellow – one after another, spreading out from the town center where they wait.

It’s at this point that Wanda sticks Agatha with the metal pole, when Sarah shouts out at both of them, when Wanda glances down and sees Emily standing next to her, eyes lit with wonder.

And hears Agatha’s voice gentle in her mind, This is why we do this. She lets that rest for a few moments before continuing with the barest hint of spite, But if you pull that shit again, hon, I will end this thing so fast—

Wanda ignores her. More to the point, Wanda does not believe her because Agatha loves the children around them just as much as Wanda does. Wanda would never take this from them, and so she knows that Agatha never would either.

It helps that she can already feel the strain. She has to focus. Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

Don’t focus on how the cold has turned Agatha’s nose an adorable red. Don’t focus on how the slight breeze pushes her curly, frizzy hair out behind her and exposes her very kissable neck. Don’t focus on the soft purple glow magic cradles her in, or the way it lights up her eyes just as surely as Wanda’s own must be lighting with scarlet, or the purple covering the tips of her fingers turning the same red as her nose from the cold.

Don’t focus on all of these things and call her a baby again because she’s her baby.

Save that for later.

Later.

Wanda tears her eyes away from Agatha, licks her lips, tugs the bottom one between her teeth, and pretends that she doesn’t feel Agatha’s control of magic tangling with her own or the threads of magic her fingers are dipped into rippling against those Agatha’s are or the briefest of moments when their fingers brush against each other as they manipulate the same thread. It’s an entirely different feel in magical space instead of in physical, and the thrill of it that shoots through her is different and indescribable and it is absolutely unfair how Agatha doesn’t react to it at all.

Stop. Looking. At. Agatha.

At least Sarah isn’t yelling about what she doesn’t notice.

Wanda takes a deep breath in. She focuses. Sets her menorah where she wants it, where it can – and will – be seen. Smiles when she hears one of the children in the crowd gasp and comment and turns just enough to see them pointing at it with excitement. Reaches out to entangle her mind with Agatha’s again, murmurs, This is why we do this, and lets her smug joy mix with Agatha’s.

Notes the bright and thriving neon blue coloring everything in Agatha’s mind and chuckles.

They don’t need to make any excuse to leave after their holiday extravaganza; Wanda is completely honest when she says that she is exhausted, although Agatha is less than honest when she says she needs to take care of her student. Sarah shoots them a look for that, one brow raising, but Agatha just meets her gaze and raises both brows twice with a snide smirk lifting one corner of her lips. Wanda pretends to ignore all of this, but she sees it. Holds it with the smallest of warmths in the center of her chest. And expects Agatha to wait only just long enough for Wanda to close the door before—

Well.

Wanda decides to take things into her own hands. She pretends that her exhaustion is significantly more than it is, so that Agatha opens the door with the smallest of magic and shuts it with the same, only for Wanda to press her against the door and smother her with a kiss. She feels Agatha sigh against her and takes that as encouragement to rest her hands on Agatha’s hips, on the small curves of her waist, and to pull her tighter to her. It’s when she moves her lips and begins to kiss along Agatha’s jaw that she hears it—

Not a sigh of approval or requited longing, but of frustration and gentle disapproval.

Wanda ignores this and keeps kissing her anyway, brushing her nose against that sensitive spot on the curve of Agatha’s chin. “Is something wrong?”

“Hon,” Agatha says with a third, more annoyed sigh, “you know I love when you do this, but—” She cuts off with a sharp gasp as Wanda bites, hard, on that sensitive spot. “Dear,” she lets out in a breathy hum, “you aren’t listening.”

“Mmm…no,” Wanda agrees and disagrees. “You’re talking too much.” She resumes her nibbling along Agatha’s neck.

Agatha snakes a hand through Wanda’s hair, wraps her fingers through far too many locks, and then grips tightly before tugging Wanda’s head up with a sharp shock of pain. “We’ve talked about this, love. Using so much magic all at once can give you a high, especially in tandem with a partner, especially with someone that you already—”

“Too much talking.” Wanda presses her lips to Agatha’s again, takes her lower lip between her teeth and tugs in the way that she knows Agatha likes.

Wanda. Agatha’s voice thrums loud in her mind in the same instant that she lets out an audible groan of pleasure. You’re still not—

If you really wanted me to stop, you’d tell me to stop. Wanda presses her against the door again, causing Agatha’s shirt to lift just enough for her to brush her fingers against her skin. She rubs her thumbs in circles just above Agatha’s hip bones, lets the tip of her right thumbnail just sink into Agatha’s skin, grins at another audible groan as it releases into her mouth. Clearly, you don’t want that.

It takes a moment for Agatha to get herself together enough to respond, and in that moment, she turns the tide, places her hand on Wanda’s throat, and pushes her back until she bumps against the nearest wall. Wanda wants to melt into her, and half does. But now Agatha has enough of an upper hand to pull her lips from Wanda’s and meet her eyes with a firm stare, broken only slightly in efficiency due to how wide her pupils have grown. “I’m suffering from the same after-effects you are, hon,” she says, breath ragged between words. “I—” She cuts herself off, eyes falling to Wanda’s lips, and then forces herself to take a deep breath, drawing her eyes back up to meet Wanda’s instead of letting them fall farther. “We need to rest before—”

“This is rest—”

“No, it’s physical exertion that leaves you even more exhausted than you already are.” Agatha’s gaze drops again, lower, and traces its way up Wanda’s body in a way that makes Wanda shiver, especially when Agatha tugs her own swollen, split lower lip between her teeth. Then she lets out another sigh. “It’s a nice form of exhaustion, sure, love, but.” She cups Wanda’s face and brushes her thumb along her cheek. “We’re already exhausted. You’re already exhausted. And magic will take advantage of that.” She leans across and gives Wanda a chaste kiss. “Not right now.”

Wanda pouts. “You’re just too old for this shit.”

Agatha chuckles. “You want to learn from your mistakes, that’s all well and good, but don’t drag me down with you, hon.” She wraps a lock of Wanda’s hair around her finger. “Been there, done that.”

“So what,” Wanda says, pouting, “would you have me do instead?”

“I believe, in the business you want, it would be called aftercare.”

Which is how, not fifteen minutes later, the two witches end up in bed together, draped in their matching wicked witch oversized shirts, with a television turned on right across from them. Wanda rests her head on Agatha’s shoulder, close enough to brush her nose against her partner’s neck. “I get to pick the show,” she murmurs. “If I don’t pick the show, I might—”

Agatha flattens Wanda’s hand where it has already started to move up her thigh. “Whatever show you want, super star.” She flicks through channels until Wanda places her other hand on hers. Her brows raise. “This one?”

“Mmmm.” Wanda nuzzles against her neck, curls closer, and rests her head on Agatha’s chest. “This one’s good.” She settles against her partner with a hum of contentment. It’s an episode she’s seen a million and one times before, which means technically she doesn’t have to pay any attention at all, if she doesn’t want that. She leans up and kisses Agatha’s jaw.

“Be good, hon.” Agatha strokes one finger along Wanda’s spine. Up and down, up and down, like a spell she casts solely to soothe.

“I’m being good.”

“Of course, you are.”

Wanda leans up and meets Agatha’s eyes. “I’m always being good.”

Agatha raises an eyebrow again. “Is that so?” She leans forward as though to give Wanda a kiss but instead reaches up and presses that kiss to her forehead instead. “Maybe,” she whispers, running a finger along Wanda’s jaw, “if you are good enough, I’ll see fit to give you a reward.”

“A reward?” Wanda echoes, her eyes lighting up. Her lips spread in a smug grin. “What kind of reward?”

Agatha’s gaze flits away. “Maybe tomorrow, if you aren’t too tired, we can play with magical after-effects.” She meets Wanda’s eyes again. “Nothing as strong as today, but enough testing that—”

“—that next time, I get what I want,” Wanda completes for her.

“What we both want,” Agatha corrects. She runs her finger gently along Wanda’s jaw again and lets out another sigh – this one the sigh of yearning that Wanda most associates with her. “It will be exhausting, hon. But I’m sure you’ll be up for the challenge.”

Wanda leans forward, brushing her nose against Agatha’s. “I’m sure I will.”

When Agatha kisses her this time, there’s just enough fire to it that Wanda thinks maybe – maybe – she’ll give in. But then Agatha settles back against her pillow, turned to the television, and runs her fingers along Wanda’s back again.

Tomorrow, Wanda hears, clear, in her mind. Tomorrow.

Even as that electric blue throbs all around them.

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #kisses through the decades with wanda and agatha #agatha harkness #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #mcu #wandavision #wagatha #wandagatha #harximoff #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x agatha harkness

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