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our-blood-is-our-ink · 1 year

Text

Journey

Ship: Agatha Harkness x Wanda Maximoff (minor)

Summary: Agatha always had a complex relationship with the idea of motherhood, given her relationship with her own mother. It takes quite a bit of time for her to figure it out.

Word Count: 9.3k

Rating: M

Disclaimer: This story contains themes that may be triggering for some. Please read accordingly.

Warnings: abuse, whipping, imprisonment, starvation, torture, scars, minor character death, somewhat graphic description of violence/gore, loss of childhood, angst, accidental parental figure, dark themes, dead dove do not eat - what it says on the tin, ambiguously happy ending

Agatha has always known she had wanted to be a mother.

Long before the fear of becoming like hers had settled deep into her bones, she had often been found following the women of Salem around, if they had little ones to care for.

Mother had allowed it, because it made them look good.

Made Agatha look good.

Caring. Nurturing. Future wife material.

Which, as she got older, would have been amusing, to look back on, given her orientation if it hadn't been for… Well.

Agatha was an only child. A lonely child.

Friends were hard to make, and Mother was far too careful of matters concerning the coven to be pleased that Agatha's closest friends were Caitlin and Elise.

It tied their families too close together for Mother's comfort.

So she had turned towards the children younger than she, the infants and the toddlers, who tended to have mothers all too relieved to have a responsible, quiet girl hold their baby for a while and take the break readily given to them.

Agatha was good with them too.

She could play and entertain them for hours if given the opportunity, and had no qualms about cleaning up their messes.

After all, if she wanted children of her own one day, she'll have to get used to it anyhow.

But she had only just been started to be allowed to watch the town's littles ones around the same time Mother had started to-

No.

No, she won't invite those memories back.

Her scars ache, and she rubs her wrists.

Not those scars.

She can't reach those scars.

She had had maybe two, three years before she had fully retreated away from the younger kids entirely, shutting herself out from the bubbles of joy and happiness they tended to form, when she had lost her patience with one of the toddlers and had caused them to cry after shouting at them.

Never mind they had somehow gotten a hold of their father's razor and she had been scared out of her mind.

She had shouted, and they had cried.

Because of her.

Because of something she had done.

And she won't be Mother.

She will not.

So she had retreated. Carefully built up her reasonings, excuses.

Mother needs me more now that I'm getting older. She'd explain. When I marry, my husband will inherit our business, but until then… Just in case, she wants me to know how to run it. It's very time consuming.

But those mothers usually were well versed in being able to sense when a child was lying to them, and they had rushed to assure her that they all lose their temper with their children at some point. That it was natural.

Especially if the child was doing something dangerous.

I don't want to be that sort of person. Agatha would firmly reply. I think it's best that I don't watch them anymore. I apologize for the inconvenience.

Mother had not been happy.

It was easy to avoid accusations and rumors when Agatha had been making herself invaluable to the wives of Salem.

She hadn't punished her for it though.

It almost would have been a relief if she hadn't spent the next few months waiting for the other shoe to drop.

It hadn't helped she no longer had babysitting to fill her time.

That she could no longer find what was a valid reason to Mother to be out of the house.

She supposes she got punished for it everytime she had messed something up in those months.

Mother had finally arranged for Agatha to be kept busy by helping out an elderly seamstress, one who was deeply old fashioned and did not have many kind words to offer.

Luckily, Agatha long since had learned how to hold her tongue and keep her hands working even as she fantasized of all the ways she could shut the spiteful old woman up.

And then she had said the wrong thing about the wrong child.

And Agatha had snapped.

She doesn't recall what she had said, or how she had ended up hiding behind a barn farther out towards the farms.

She had blacked out, in her anger.

Because while yes, Agatha had done her best to distance herself from the children of Salem, she still had a large soft spot for them, especially the ones she helped watch.

And hearing the old bat hiss poisoned words against one of the young girls, one who was a bit slower than the others, a bit more immature, a bit more naïve, lamenting her inability to accuse the child of witchcraft for the simple crime of being a bit simpler than her peers…

Well.

Is it any wonder that she had snapped?

Mother eventually found her, hours and hours later, hands still shaking violently as she focused on keeping her breaths even.

Mother was furious.

Agatha didn't bother to try and defend herself.

At fourteen she already well knew that keeping quiet and accepting whatever fate Mother deemed appropriate would be the best outcome she could hope for, to avoid making things worse for herself.

She doesn't find out for weeks, locked away, but apparently the seamstress had suffered some sort of heart attack shortly after she had chased Agatha out of her shop.

Mother clearly thought Agatha was the cause.

Otherwise, why would she have thrown Agatha into her room, locked in, with too tight bands of metal around her wrists, a constant, deep burning pain?

Agatha would never say anything, but she's sure she did cause the old woman to die.

But from the stress of what had happened.

Agatha would not have used magic, even blacked out in her anger.

Not since she had been nine.

Not since she had left a furiously burning handprint on Caitlin's face, one that Mother herself had to carefully construct a glamor anchored to a simple ring in order to cover.

Caitlin has yet to go anywhere without it, which tells Agatha all she needs to know.

Even at fourteen, she slowly is becoming aware that perhaps she can't be as good as she dreams of being.

Even at fourteen, it's a dream, and not a hope.

Mother doesn't bother to try and arrange for Agatha to be kept busy again.

Instead, she's to stay at home, keeping the house neat and tidy, and to cook all the meals.

She's only allowed out to buy household necessities, and for coven gatherings.

She notices somewhere around age sixteen that the mothers of Salem carefully guide their children away from the now deemed too quiet young woman, that if she even so much as looks at a child too long she'll get glared at.

Agatha isn't certain on the why.

Her best guess is that there's now suspicion that she is a witch, because the seamstress had passed not even an hour after Agatha had been seen running from her store.

It's dangerous.

Especially because Mother has decided that Agatha is irredeemable in the eyes of the town, and that no one would care if they noticed a bruise.

Not that Mother would ever allow her to get away with any of her wounds being exposed.

No, Mother's still carful that the only places Agatha ever sports an injury is her back or wrists.

Agatha doesn't think Mother is even aware of the scarring that her sleeves cover up.

It's not like those were being purposefully inflicted, they were just an unfortunate side effect of a far more painful punishment.

Agatha often loses her right to her magic these days, over the smallest infractions.

Though perhaps it's not that the townspeople suspect she's a witch, perhaps they presume she's ill, given the deep, dark circles she has underneath her eyes, the paleness of skin that rarely gets enough sun, the way it stretches across her bones, giving her a gaunt look.

Magic isn't the only thing Mother denies her.

Once, and only once, does Mother send her out too soon after a particularly harsh lashing, and the innocent cry that stems from a little boy’s lips brings attention to how one of the fresh wounds have been pulled back open, and caused blood to seep through her shirt.

Agatha has to lie on the spot, and says she had fallen onto a particularly sharp tree branch.

She can tell nobody believes her, but they still pretend to accept her excuse.

No one wants to get too involved with her in any capacity.

She's been outcasted.

Still, she finds herself quietly slipping the young boy a handful of blueberries from her groceries in her basket, putting a finger to her lips with a wink.

Children, she finds, are far kinder than adults.

It's why she generally stays far, far away from them.

She will never be the reason for a child to turn cruel if she can help it.

She's relieved to find that no one gossips about the incident, because she's certain if they had, Mother would not have cared that her back is still unhealed from the last lashing.

These scar particularly terribly, and she finds her range of movement vastly limited as she readjusts to the new ways her skin pulls at them, relearns how to live with the pain.

She supposes she should feel lucky that they hadn't infected.

It always was much, much worse when they did, often resulting in days of fevered hazes before Mother finally deemed Agatha ill enough that she required healing.

Every time, Agatha would have rather chosen to die than to experience the liquid fire that spread across her back and settled deep into the muscles there, aching and burning and causing her to black out from it all.

Mother says she should be grateful for it.

She is not.

For a good while, Agatha's days are filled with careful cooking, thorough cleaning, and weekly trips to the market, and her nights filled with practice in her witchcraft, and once a month, the coven gatherings.

And then Mother finally deems her old enough, mature enough, to handle basic dark magic spells, ones that are not forbidden from the coven due to their healing nature.

She can see the instant regret in her when, unlike with the neutral coven magic of witchcraft, Agatha takes to the dark spells like a fish to water.

She can't help it when her shoulders suddenly slump over in relief, not expecting to suddenly feel nearly pain free when she chants the incantation for an internal healing spell, one that should not have worked as well as it did for Agatha's very high levels of chronic pain.

But, more importantly, her wrists stop aching, which means her fingers and hand joints stop aching.

Which means they stop trembling, stop making it difficult to grasp objects and keep her hands steady.

It's like the dark magic is a balm.

Mother makes a motion to snatch the book away, and for the first time in years Agatha willingly touches her mother in order to still her hands.

Don't. She had said, the beg clear and plaintive. Please, Mother.

Perhaps it was the fact that her daughter's fingers were laid atop her own, or perhaps somewhere within Mother there was still a sense of love for her, but whatever it may have been, Evanora Harkness had closed her eyes and sighed, before retracting her hands.

Agatha was then heavily warned against making her regret this decision.

Dark magic… It's what killed your father.

Agatha had only vaguely known that, and the words often bounced around her head in her mother's weary voice.

Mother always sounded tired when speaking of Father.

Agatha doesn't think she had ever stopped mourning the long dead man.

Some days, rarely, when things got particularly bad, Agatha thinks it would've been better if the universe had decided to kill her instead.

Even then, she usually pushes the thought away.

She's always been a survivor.

It's what gets her through the cruelty she experiences at the hands of those around her.

So Agatha pushes on, and she dives deeper and deeper into dark magic, finding it soothing and a respite from the constant pain she's in, though she's disappointed to discover a spell will only do that for so long before she needs to sneak one of the books forbidden to her to find a more intense spell.

Logically, she's aware it's acting a bit like the addictive substances Mother sometimes prescribes to one of her patients, that her body becomes immune to the effects of the rapidly increasingly large doses of something that will eventually kill her.

But she isn't thinking logically, she can't, not when the dark magic not only feels good in a way Agatha has never experienced before, but when it numbs and soothes away the aches of her scars, specifically the ones left from the manacles she's so often forced to wear.

She hadn't even noticed how swollen the joints in her hands had become until now, with the dark magic keeping it down.

Cleaning and cooking and shopping, even practicing her magic, it all suddenly became easier.

Even neutral magic.

Agatha begins to suspect perhaps the manacles have done more than just suppress her magic.

That they have done some sort of irreparable damage to her.

And for that, for screwing with Agatha's ability for magic, however unknowingly, Agatha hates her mother for.

Magic has been her only reliable companion.

No one touches her magic like that and gets away with it.

She's determined to find a way to fix it, to reverse the damage.

Agatha begins to sneak books in earnest now.

She has plenty of free time during the day to do so.

The trick is to never be caught.

She dreads to even think about what Mother would do if she found Agatha delving further and further into the art of dark magic.

Her natural magic. Something whispers to her late at night, when the rest of the town is asleep.

Mother is trying to keep you from what is rightfully yours. Don't let her.

Agatha thinks nothing of it.

Her anger is justified.

As is her fear.

Mother still punishes her with great frequency.

Agatha continues to retreat into herself.

If she appears dull, broken, perhaps Mother will become satisfied with the woman she appears to have become.

Perhaps being so lonely will begin to hurt less.

Even Elise has stopped coming by.

From what Agatha can gather, she has a suitor now.

Her friendship with Caitlin had never quite recovered from when she had permanently disfigured the other woman by accident as a child.

Agatha could hardly blame her.

That does not mean she doesn't hold her loneliness against either of them, however unfair that may be.

Mother is the only other person she sees with certain regularity.

Mother makes for a poor friend.

She makes for a poor mother too.

Agatha turns to her magic in an attempt to combat how alone she feels.

At some point, she doesn't feel foolish for talking aloud to it.

Oddly enough, Mother doesn't punish her for it, when she finds Agatha talking to her magic one day, home unexpectedly early.

She doesn't address it either.

Agatha will take her victories where she can get them.

The years while living them felt as if they had been dragging on, but all too quickly, Agatha rapidly approaches her twentieth.

She's coming of proper age.

Mother grows more lenient with her as the date of her birthday grows closer, her excitement clear.

It makes Agatha nervous.

Agatha is right to be.

A few days before the special gathering Mother had arranged for her birthday, she discovers Agatha pouring over an especially dark tome.

Agatha hadn't even realized she had been caught before Mother's vice like grip was leaving an angry bruise on her arm, yanking her up to her feet and dragging her in silence to the basement.

Panic claws up Agatha's throat.

She knows what it means to be dragged to the basement.

But it's not the wall of Mother's office she's shoved against.

Mother doesn't even go near her office door.

Instead, she drags Agatha through a door she's only ever seen this side of.

Immediately she feels so violently ill, she worries she's going to vomit.

“Mama, what's behind this door? You never let me touch it.”

“You never want to know what's behind that door. It's where we keep witches until they can stand on trial for betrayal to the coven. Promise me, never will you break coven law.”

“Oh. Okay. I promise Mama.”

Agatha blinks away the vestiges of the memory.

She couldn't have been older than seven.

Not if she had been still calling Mother Mama.

Agatha stumbles as Mother shoves her through the door, letting it close behind her, and she shivers from how cold the small stone room is.

She doesn't bother to try a spell to warm herself up.

She doesn't have to look toward the ceiling to know there will be intricate runes preventing her from using her magic.

Agatha picks a corner and curls up.

Something wet slides down her cheek as she focuses on her breathing, on keeping her sudden nausea down.

She lets herself cry.

There isn't a risk of being seen.

Not that it matters.

I'm going to die.

Agatha wishes she could say she felt a sense of peace at the prospect. At least that way, the waiting won't feel so bad.

She only feels more panicked.

I don't want to die.

Her deep, shuddering breaths echo, taunting her.

Weak. It says. Weak.

She feels weak.

Agatha falls asleep.

When she wakes up, she pushes herself back into unconsciousness.

But she can only force her body to sleep for so long, and the cold makes her scars ache.

She doesn't know how long she's kept in the room when Mother returns, carrying a slice of bread and a cup of water.

A prisoner’s fare.

“I don't suppose there's anything I can say to fix the situation.” She rasps out as she accepts the food.

Mother doesn't respond, waiting around only long enough for Agatha to finish her drink so that she may take the cup back upstairs.

It's an answer all on its own.

Not that Agatha had asked it as a question anyhow.

Time quickly loses its measure, and her only way of telling a significant amount of it has passed is when Mother brings her meals.

Or rather, her slice of bread and cup of water.

It becomes a routine, though Agatha feels suffocated by the loneliness.

Unable to access her magic, it no longer sings back to her when she talks to it.

She very quickly stops trying to.

It only serves to exacerbate her loneliness.

And then Mother changes the routine, dangling the manacles Agatha has often experienced from her fingertips.

She knows better than to fight it, when Mother gestures for her to allow her to put them on her.

And then she utters a single word.

“Walk.”

Agatha hates herself for hoping that her trial has finally arrived.

She also hates herself for feeling relieved when Mother leads her to the kitchen, and points clearly to a chair.

Agatha sits.

Mother sits across from her.

And then she proceeds to tell her the most outrageous tale of queens and heirs and magical crowns.

If Agatha wasn't so dehydrated, she would have spat in her mother's face.

It hurts to talk, her voice rough from misuse, but that does not stop her from spitting a different sort of disgust.

After all, if she really was Mother's heir in the sense that the other woman has woven a story of, then Mother should not have mistreated her so grossly.

Agatha's survival instinct flees as she rejects her birthright.

I am no daughter of yours.

She's thrown back into the stone room, but not before she steals one last look at the sunlight through a window, and notes that some of the leaves have started to change colors.

She had been locked away for a while.

Three, maybe four months.

Her trial will be soon.

She had just turned down her one opportunity to escape it.

A part of her feels foolish.

Another feels vicious pleasure at knowing that Mother's legacy will die with her.

She's too old to have another child, even with magic's assistance, and she will never be given someone else's child to raise at this age either.

Oddly enough, that's what brings Agatha a sense of peace.

Mother will not be able to inflict her cruelty upon another innocent.

And Agatha used to be innocent.

Before Mother.

“Mama! Mama, look, I found a flower! I picked it for you.”

“Where did you find this? It's the dead of winter, Ata.”

“Behind the house. Look, it glows.”

“You must be very careful, little witch. You can only use your magic when we have the house to ourselves. But this flower is very pretty. Thank you for picking it for me.”

Her memories of Mama are far and few between, and they hurt worse than anything Mother has ever done.

Perhaps it's because they are the same woman, and Agatha had once known what it felt like to have Mother's love.

Her skin itches.

She finds herself longing for things she should not long for.

She hates herself for that.

Weak. The walls echo again. Weak.

She curls her hands into fists.

Her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palm.

She bleeds where crescent shaped cuts form.

Let it be a sacrifice to the Goddess. She thinks. Let the blood of my suffering appease Her for whatever my past life has done to anger Her so.

Mother doesn't wait long to send two of Agatha's sister witches to fetch her for her trial.

It must be deliberate that she sends Caitlin and Elise.

Suddenly, Agatha's dignity seems to flee, and she finds herself begging, shouting for mercy.

Her childhood friends pay no mind, and it's Caitlin who ties her to the stake.

Poetic, she supposes.

Agatha Harkness, are you a witch.

I am a witch.

It doesn't escape her notice that Mother does not join the coven in casting Agatha in magic that tears at her own, burning and burning and burning.

It always burns.

And then she feels her own magic, angrily pushing against her chest, and something snaps, and she groans with the sensation.

Bright, burning lines of blue turn purple, and Agatha isn't controlling it as it pulls.

She can feel her tears drying on her cheeks.

She pleads.

I can be good.

No, you cannot.

Mother condemns her.

Mother has condemned her the moment she went from Mama to Mother, and Agatha can only feel the rush of her magic as she wins the battle for her life, giving Mother's in exchange for her own.

She doesn't know what to feel, so she doesn't.

She descends the stairs on the raised platform, and makes her way over to her mother's body.

Her brooch catches her eye.

“Why do you always wear that pin, Mama? None of the other mothers wear one.”

“It was a gift from your father. It's one of the only things I have left of him.”

“You have me!”

“I do have you. Now run along, I need to finish this up, and I don't want you to distract me.”

Agatha takes the brooch.

She ends up back home.

For the first time in months, Agatha sleeps in her bed.

When she wakes up, she ransacks the house, using a liberal amount of dark magic to create a pocket space to store all of the things she wishes to keep.

Books, kitchenware, the rocking chair that Mother said Father had made.

The boxes full of love letters between her parents that she discovered underneath her mother's bed.

By the time she's done, the house looks empty.

Hollow.

It matches the feeling in her chest.

She flees Salem before the witch-hunt can make their way to her.

And there will be a witch-hunt, of that she is certain.

She takes Mother's horse, and doesn't bother with the cart.

It will only slow her down.

She makes her way to the city of New York, and spends the increasingly cold nights out in the wilderness for the week it takes to travel there.

She pulls out Mother's carefully kept business papers, and tracks down the man who she had everything handled through.

She sells the horse with his help, and he buys her the small house she wants with her money.

Agatha knows she'll have to replace him very soon, before the news of her being a witch can reach the rumor mills of New York, if she wants to keep hold on her newly inherited business.

It's a bit of a learning curve, but she manages.

Some time passes, and one day some mysterious person demands a meeting with her.

And refuses to accept her new right hand is the one in charge of the business.

They introduce themselves as the Sorcerer Supreme, and somehow manage to wrangle Agatha into a small building they call their Sanctum.

Agatha leaves.

Many times.

And every time, without fail, they fetch her back.

Insist that it's important that Agatha learns from them.

Sorcery is just wannabe witchcraft. Agatha would sneer. I have no use for such… Pale imitations.

And then she discovers a spell, one based in sorcery, that permanently takes away the chronic pain that she lives with from her scars.

Well, the ones on her back are soothed away.

Her wrists are another story, and dark magic continues to be the only remedy.

She's a more willing student after that.

She spends a few years studying under the Sorcerer Supreme, splitting her time between that and running her business.

They finally trust that she will return to the Sanctum willingly, and are content to allow Agatha to once more live in the small house she has now long since called home.

And then one day, while she is walking home from purchasing groceries, a small lad runs by and trips over his feet, panic evident on his face.

Agatha hears an angry bellow, and a man thunders around the corner, the stench of booze wafting from him.

For Goddess sake, it's only noon.

Agatha doesn't think as she scoops the young child up, quickly stepping towards a more crowded street.

“Will your mother protect you?” Agatha asks.

She has no intention of stealing this child.

The young boy shakes as he sways his head back and forth, blubbering.

“Dead?”

Perhaps it's cruel to ask it so callously, but Agatha has always known what it's like to be missing a parent.

The boy nods.

Ah.

“Will anyone look for you?”

The boy shakes his head again.

“Very well.”

She weaves her way expertly through the city, making her way back towards home.

She gently sets the little boy on her couch, and fetches a cloth and dampens it, her long buried material instinct returning.

She wipes his face down gently, the way she used to, years and years ago, when she had watched over the children of Salem.

“Are you hurt anywhere?” She asks as she goes about her task.

“My arm.”

The boy finally speaks, shy and hesitant.

Agatha does not blame him for sounding that way.

“Hold it out, let me see.”

She doesn't know how she missed that the bone was broken, but now that she's been shown it, she bites her lip, before sighing.

“I can heal it.”

The boy frowns, but doesn't say anything.

“What? Spit it out, speak your mind. I won't hurt you for that.”

Agatha regrets her inability to be anything but blunt, but it seems that the directness relaxes the child.

“He'll just rip the castings off.”

He as in the man that had been chasing him.

Agatha wonders if it was the boy's father.

She assumes so.

“I meant I can heal it with magic.”

In the great big city of New York, who will believe a tiny, beaten tyke of an accusation of witchcraft?

The boy’s eyes go wide, but he doesn't scream or try to run.

“Prove it.” Is what he says instead.

So Agatha proves it.

The boy is astonished, and demands she teaches him.

She brings him to the Sorcerer Supreme instead.

“A child, Agatha?” They sigh.

“I won't leave him to his abuser.” She insists. “If you won't take him…”

I will.

But she wouldn't.

She only trusts herself so far around children.

They take mercy on her and spare her a dilemma, finding a nearby family willing to take in another mouth to feed with promises of stipend for their troubles.

Agatha's more than happy to pay for it, and the boy is treated well, his foster family acutely aware of his private tutoring.

His name is Nicholas and he is the first of many.

Agatha's eyes have been open to the hungry children that roam the streets, the little humans who wear decent clothes but suffer from a constant plague of bruises and broken bones, and she has more money than she could ever spend on herself.

Some of the children try calling her mama, before she establishes herself as Aunt Agatha.

She would have preferred sister, but when she ran it by Nicholas he had scrunched his young face up and shook his head.

You're too old for me to just call you by your name, Miss Agatha. He had politely said. How about Aunty Agatha instead?

She had taken his advice, though she had knocked off the “y” at the end of “Aunty”, and ever since she has not once had another panic attack due to a little voice trying to call her mama.

The Sorcerer Supreme teases her about the little army of children that look up to her, and Agatha quietly takes it, never once mentioning why she so infrequently speaks with them properly, or why they are all left craving more of her time.

She'd rather they feel she is a busy, yet kind woman, than a present, menacing keeper.

I will not be Mother.

I will not.

The year Nicholas turns thirteen, she leaves New York for a couple of weeks and travels back to Salem.

It's been ten years since she had killed her coven and mother, and she feels the need to torture herself for it.

The Sorcerer Supreme doesn't say anything when Agatha informs them of her travel plans, they simply hand her a key that opens nothing and tells her it's symbolic when she asks what it was for.

She will always have a home within the Sanctum, with the now growing ranks of sorcerers she has helped cultivate.

Raise. The other would argue.

Whatever helps you sleep at night. She would deflect.

Salem is like a punch to the gut, and memories threaten to break her under its pressure.

It doesn't help the first thing she had done was go back to where she had stood trial, to find her magic had somehow mummified the bodies of her long dead coven.

It's been cordoned off, warnings of proof of witchcraft carved into the wooden fence.

Agatha returns them all to the magic they had been born into, even Mother, and their bodies slowly fade, dissolve.

She thinks she hears them all breathe a sigh of relief at finally being given permission to rest.

She mourns properly then, falling to her knees when her sobs overtake everything else, every ounce of her strength leaving her as she cries for her loss.

Loss of a father before she had even been born, loss of a childhood, loss of a mother, loss of a family, a teacher, a community, her ability to see goodness within herself.

There's plenty more.

She stays in the forest for a long while.

When she's all cried out, red-faced and head aching, she makes her way to her childhood home that has been abandoned.

It's clear there was not one soul brave enough to lay claim to a witch’s house, and Agatha slips inside, careful not to leave signs someone has returned home, and sleeps.

Her nightmares are usually bad.

The dream she has instead is worse.

She dreams of a world where her father had lived, where she had been given a proper childhood, her mother a warm, smiling figure.

She calls them Mama and Papa even at the age of thirty.

She has kids of her own, two of them, with a little one on the way, and she knows in that instant it's an impossible dream her subconscious has concocted because her wife slips her arms around Agatha's round belly and gently kisses her cheek as their children play with the grandparents.

Grandmama and Grandpapa.

That's what the children call them, and her parent’s joy at having grandchildren to spoil is evident.

Agatha doesn't know what sort of man her father truly had been, but the dream is very telling as she watches Mother Mama Mother allow herself to be led in a silly little dance by small hands and big smiles.

It's a dream, with everything she has ever wanted, and it only serves to make her feel more alone than she has in years.

She wakes up silently, and is not surprised to discover that she had been crying in her sleep.

Agatha only stays in Salem for one more day, slipping through the marketplace with well practiced ease.

A bit risky, perhaps. It wouldn't be too hard for the wrong person to recognize her.

But she can't resist returning to the one old haunt she had been granted as a child.

And then she senses a flicker of magic, pitifully small, but overbearingly strong.

Impulsively, she follows it.

There should be no more witches in Salem.

It leads her to an old agemate, the daughter of one of the richer folk in Salem.

Agatha struggles to remember her name, but the instant her hand grasps the other woman’s shoulder, a spark of her magic flares, and it leaves both women breathless.

The woman spins around, eyes wide with fear and recognition.

Agatha Harkness? Are you a witch?

I am a witch.

She leaves with a companion.

Wanda has been struggling with her magic for years now, and she requires a teacher.

She wants to be rid of it, and Agatha does not tell her that through seeking proper control, Wanda will learn to love what is so intricate to her very being.

She suspects it would only hinder, not help.

No one comes after them.

Wanda says she left a letter saying she has ran off to be with some penniless boy, one who held her heart, as an excuse.

Agatha is neither penniless nor a boy, and she certainly does not hold the red head’s heart in her palms.

Still, she cracks a joke about being the other woman’s lover, and Wanda blushes with guilt at the thought.

That's a sin.

Our magic is a sin, if you subscribe to their beliefs.

You don't believe in God?

I believe in the Goddess, and I believe in my magic.

She doesn't say she believes in herself because she doesn't.

That would require trust.

Wanda mulls over Agatha's response in silence.

When they arrive in New York, Agatha is forced to introduce Wanda to the near two dozen children she helped keep off the streets and out of harsh hands, Nicholas having waited for her return every day at her home, and dragged them to the Sanctum to say hello to his sorcerer siblings.

The Sorcerer Supreme smiles warmly in welcome to Wanda, and when the other witch gets distracted by an army of children all vying for her attention, they approach Agatha properly, squeezing her hands in theirs and whispers in her ear I'm glad you found her.

Agatha doesn't know how to feel about that.

The kids draft Wanda into their on going war to convince Agatha to become a bigger presence in their life.

It's a struggle, because Wanda will barter her success in learning witchcraft for Agatha to spend time with the little ones.

Agatha holds her tongue, though she finds it's often a close thing to keep herself from bursting out yelling about all the reasons why this will only end in disaster.

Somehow, it doesn't.

Not for years and years.

The city of New York continues to grow and become a sprawling network of humanity, as does the Sanctum.

No longer does it accept every child into the arms of sorcery, but it does help place them in better homes.

The Sorcerer Supreme has long since passed that task off to people Agatha had hired at their behest, and only the children who have a spark of something more in them ever make it to the Sanctum’s doors these days.

Nicholas comes of age, and requests Agatha fund an orphanage.

Wanda is all for the idea, and she leaves it in their hands to plan out.

When she had said as much, Wanda had excitedly given her a kiss on the cheek, before turning as red as her hair, excusing herself and rushing out of the room, as Nicholas laughed into the shocked silence.

You're good for each other, Ma.

Since when did you call me Ma?

Nicholas had shrugged and given her an easy grin.

You've been the first mother figure in my life. But I promise to keep it just to teasing.

He has the nerve to wink, and Agatha wonders if it's a normal reaction to feel a violent urge in response.

I will not become Mother.

She shoves it away, and offers a pained smile.

I'd rather you didn't at all. She says instead. I'm nobody's mother.

Nicholas just gives her a look, before he too, leaves.

He hadn't been wrong about Wanda being good for her, and she realizes one day that they've been dating for a long time.

She doesn't feel the need to define the relationship, but Wanda does, though it's months and months after Agatha had come to her conclusion.

Wanda brings her a crown made of dandelions and baby's breath, and asks her if she'd like to make it official.

Girlfriends or wives?

Does it look like I have a ring, Harkness?

And then one day Wanda says the wrong thing completely by accident and sends Agatha spiraling into a flashback in front of some of the kids from the orphanage that has been up and running for a few years now, and in her distress, her magic lashes out.

She was never one for a weak stomach, but the sight of seven small bodies is enough to send her running for the nearest trash can.

Visions of tiny child graves dance in front of her, and she's so overwhelmed by it all that she doesn't notice that Wanda has confirmed the little ones are not dead, merely knocked unconscious.

Agatha refuses to go anywhere near kids after that.

I won't turn into Mother, Wanda. I'd rather die.

Her partner drops the subject after that, but there's a noticeable increase of sad looks thrown her way.

Both Nicholas and the Sorcerer Supreme try to talk her around, but she won't hear anything of it.

She chooses, instead, to ask Wanda if she'd be willing to move somewhere quiet with her.

Away from the city.

They're nearing their forty-sixth birthdays, though they don't look a day over twenty-five, and they're been in each other's lives for close to two decades now.

Somehow Wanda can tell Agatha won't stay, with or or without her girlfriend, and so she agrees.

They pack up, and Agatha lets her magic guide her to somewhere that will be healing for her.

She's tired of ignoring how broken she feels.

Wanda pops the question around their little campfire one night, weeks into their travels.

The band is simple, made of strong silver, and matches none of the gold jewelry that Agatha prefers.

My color. Wanda had explained. Because a part of me will always belong to you. But I also bought a gold one. I'll be happy to have either.

Agatha accepts the silver one.

She likes the idea of it standing out in its simplicity.

And she equally likes the idea of Wanda wearing a marital ring in her color.

There's no need for witnesses when they have magic, and when Wanda shows Agatha how much she had delved into the history of witches' marriage rites, she can't help but kiss her, laying her flat on the ground.

But Wanda won't let Agatha show her proof of her love for the red headed witch, instead, insisting on continuing to wait to tie the knot.

The consummation of our vows may not be affected by our purity. She had murmured. But I always thought it was sweet, to save yourself. It's like a gift you give to your love, unique entirely because it's your first.

Agatha would not deny Wanda of her desire.

They marry the next day, calling down on the Goddess as their witness, and She must have been paying more attention than they could have anticipated, because when they perform the magic of the ritual, an unseen, yet unbreakable bond forms, and they realize that they have found their soulmate within one another.

Wanda's magic swirls joyfully, always more powerful with her emotions, and Agatha tilts her head back and moans as Wanda kisses her way down her neck.

There is only one person Agatha will be truly vulnerable to.

They find themselves settling in what will one day be known as Colorado, and they slowly begin to build a life with just the two of them.

Magic pushes at Agatha to build more than the cozy little home she and Wanda so painstakingly created, and they find their days filled with farming and construction, until it feels like they live in a ghost village.

It clicks, one day, when the peaceful quiet is broken by the sounds of travelers.

Agatha feels a rush of panic.

She recognizes them, though they are all much older since she's last seen them, and there are many new, young faces.

Their leader is surprised.

Agatha Harkness?

Cheryl Winston.

Agatha greets the elderly witch mother in a flat tone.

And then Wanda steps forward, her hand protectively laying against Agatha's waist and asks why there appears to be a whole coven misplaced.

Their tale is a long one.

Magic had guided them here.

Agatha welcomes them to what she on the spot calls New Salem and helps them settle into the empty homes she and Wanda have spent months building.

Cheryl, someone who Agatha had picked up had a great deal of animosity towards her mother while Evanora Harkness had been living, requests to talk to Agatha privately.

Agatha is astounded to discover Mother had not been exaggerating all those years ago when she had told Agatha of Atlantis, and of the blood that flows through her veins.

She's outright shocked when Cheryl bows her head and clasps a fist over her heart and swears Agatha as her queen.

She finds magic speaking for her.

She accepts, and somehow, she becomes leader of a safe haven for witchkind overnight.

Cheryl suggests she changes the name of the village to New Atlantis.

One day, it will once more be a thriving queendom. Pay homage to our past.

Agatha doesn't fully trust the elderly witch, but she takes her advice.

Agatha unofficially appoints her as her advisor as well.

Mother. She confesses to Cheryl the next day. Only once ever told me of my birthright.

She does not go into the details, but Agatha is certain it must be well known within the coven circles by now that she had single handedly killed hers.

Wanda is the one who holds Agatha together during the adjustment period.

Agatha finds that she despises being treated the way Cheryl's coven seems to think a queen should be, and she equally despises that the only way to get them to stop is to quite literally lay down the law.

She begins to suffer from routine anxiety attacks.

I don't want this, Wans. I'm scared.

And Goddess bless her wife, Wanda simply holds her through it all, kisses her gently, and reassures her.

Leadership will not be the thing to turn you cruel. She whispers. As long as you remember that your power was given to you by your people, and that it lies in their happiness and well-being.

More covens follow the first, as does the odd lone witch, and both Cheryl and Wanda insist they swear a basic oath of peace to the queen.

To Agatha.

Most eventually swear an oath deeper than that, after living in New Atlantis for some time, and Agatha never stops hating the words of obedience to the crown that fall from their lips.

And then Nicholas arrives, throwing the now bustling town into panic when he steps through the sling ring portal.

Agatha makes a note that New Atlantis will need a place for unconventional travelers to arrive and depart from, even as she hugs the man she had once saved when he was just a small child.

The Sorcerer Supreme has asked that I extend an invitation on their behalf to write up a treaty between New Atlantis and the Sanctums.

Cheryl had started to say something unkind about sorcery and Agatha immediately shut it down.

I have used sorcery every day for decades now, and the Supreme is a long time friend. I would be very pleased to have a treaty between our people.

It's a simple thing, and quickly written up and signed.

New Atlantis gains its first ally.

Cheryl's initial prediction comes to pass as the years move along, and by the time Agatha speaks a eulogy for her at a state funeral, New Atlantis is a vibrant queendom.

New Salem, the original village that had started it all, is its capital city, with sprawling towns that had grown around it.

Agatha and Wanda still live in their cozy home, but several families willingly relocated in order to create a big enough plot of land for a proper palace.

It had not been a Agatha Approved plan, but it had been a state one.

Agatha is very firm about it being a place of work only.

I have no want of such a large, empty home. I have enough ghosts, and there is no need to give them the space to roam. She vents to Wanda.

And then there's an assassination attempt, and the people will not be ignored any longer.

They want to feel that their queen is safe.

She is forced to move into the palace.

She feels spiteful over it, and informs only Wanda that she'll be gone for a week.

She goes to stay at the New York Sanctum.

Nicholas is over the moon to have her nearby for that time.

I miss seeing you in person, Ma.

I am no one's mother, Nick.

She doesn't mention how it's slowly becoming a point of contention between her and Wanda.

Wanda, she is discovering, desperately would like a child, and seems to think Agatha will make for a great parent.

Mother's ghost haunts her, and she rolls her shoulders in an attempt to dispel the phantom pain that pulls at her back.

It doesn't make it worse so Agatha will count it as a victory.

When the week is up, she returns to her new home, and feels significantly more prepared to overcome the change.

Which is to say, she's no longer feeling spiteful enough to abuse her position or power.

It scares her, that it was even a remote possibility, but Wanda soothes away her fears, reminds Agatha that she had done the healthy thing and taken the space and time she had needed.

Reminds her that the people may have raised her above as their queen, but that she is still very human, and is allowed the flaws of her humanity.

Her wife deserves the world, and she tells her as such, and gets a laugh in response.

Her wife is also a manipulative little shit, and Agatha one day finds a young child running around their private quarters.

I told Nicholas we'd foster a kid.

I won't use a child as a test run, Wanda.

Of course not. There are no test runs. You either do, or you don't.

Agatha hates how easily she gets pulled into the kid’s orbit, and she hates how Aunt Agatha sounds the same way coming from them as Mama would.

Their name is Gial and they're four.

By the time they're eighteen, Agatha has allowed them to use her surname, and she has given up trying to insist that they are not her child.

Nicholas is very smug about the whole thing, because he finally won his right to call himself her son as well.

It didn't seem very fair to Agatha to let Gial call themselves her child and not Nicholas.

Not when he had been the first.

And so in the space of a decade Agatha gained two children of her own, though neither of them call her Mama or are of her bloodline.

Agatha finally agrees to try for a baby and Wanda is over the moon.

I have not become Mother. She tells herself. And I will not become her in the future. I won't allow it.

The fear is still bone deep, and she hides her growing panic.

And then she tests positive.

The night she does, she dreams.

Had you meant it?

Even after all these years, something instinctive in Agatha shrinks back from the sound of her mother's voice.

Had you meant it when you said you were no daughter of mine?

Yes. She had.

Really? Because I see a strong daughter of House Harkness, leading as is her natural birthright and legacy.

Agatha may be older now, but she finds herself scrambling for a response like she's a child all over again.

Father was a Harkness before he married you.

Mother frowns, and Agatha flinches back.

Mother frowning was never a good thing, though she had done it constantly.

The Harkness line, as all bloodlines of witchcraft, is matriarchal.

I don't care!

Agatha shouts, long buried fear and anger rushing through her.

I am not your daughter. Let New Atlantis have a new bloodline. I've yet to bear a child and it's not too late for me to take Wanda's name. You think I won't do anything to have your legacy die with you? You were cruel, and vicious, and you don't deserve to be remembered.

The dream swirls around her and it makes her head spin.

She's yanked through warped memories.

Agatha wakes up screaming.

Wanda won't let her discard the Harkness name.

Like it or not, it has too much meaning now. She says. Create a new legacy instead. A brighter, happier one. You're already doing that, even if you haven't realized it yet.

When Agatha goes into labor and gives birth, she does not name her daughter after anyone.

She and Wanda had poured over lists of names and had settled on Claire Elizabeth.

Claire, Wanda had come up with, had said it could mean bright or shining, and they had agreed that it was fitting to name their daughter after their shared joy.

Elizabeth had just… Naturally attached itself to the first name.

Wanda had been happy to inform Agatha that it had roots in her own heritage, that it was derived from the name Elisheva, and Agatha wouldn't trade the beaming smile Wanda had given her in that moment for the world.

Agatha refuses to allow New Atlantis to even catch an official glimpse of her daughter, wishing to protect all of their privacy, until two years later, marking another decade’s pass since she had been crowned queen.

The celebrations start an hour before the little princess’s bedtime, and the cheerful goodnight wishes sound out through the cool night air as both Agatha and Wanda slip inside to tuck their daughter in.

Gial had kindly offered to stay overnight so that Agatha and Wanda could both stay and partake in the celebrations, and once they're sure everything is fine and settled, they return to resounding cheers.

Nearly two and a half years later, Wanda gives birth to their second daughter, and this one is named after those who have passed.

Evalyn, for a part of Agatha still loves her mother, and for the grandmother Wanda has only heard stories of, and Grace, for a father she had never met.

What's a sibling name? Wanda had asked.

Fuck if I know. Agatha had replied. But I like it.

Wanda had startledly laughed at her wife's use of crude language and agreed the name was suiting.

Claire Elizabeth modeled her Big Sister role to Evalyn Grace after how Gial and Nicholas treated her, but she also took cues from her Mama and Ima.

We're raising a good kid. Agatha realizes.

We sure are. Wanda gives her cheek a kiss, and Agatha wraps her arms tighter around her wife.

There's a bit of a fight between Agatha and her people as her girls grow older and they start throwing around the phrase an heir and a spare because neither of her daughters will be seen as lesser than the other, and neither of them will have a crown forced upon their heads should they not want it.

Agatha hadn't wanted it.

She greatly looks forward to retirement.

And then Wanda, half unplanned, half planned, gets Agatha pregnant again, nearly ten years after Evalyn Grace was born, and they welcome Celeste Camille into their family.

Gial brings their husband with them to meet the little infant, and Nicholas pops in for the day.

The Sorcerer Supreme is absent, and Agatha misses her oldest friend dearly, but today is a day of joy and celebration, and not one of mourning.

Agatha has done enough mourning in her long life, and today she is surrounded by her family.

Hey, Ma. Nicholas grins easily as he reaches for his new baby sister.

I just spent a day and a half in labor and you choose to bully me?

Gial’s marriage is still fresh, and their husband looks a bit out of his depth, so Agatha gestures that Celeste Camille should be passed to him.

You're family now, hon. She tells him, and he nervously grins as he immediately starts gently bouncing in order to rock the small infant in his arms.

Gial beams at her, and Agatha can sense a bone crushing hug in her near future.

And then Wanda decides it's okay for her to co-opt the hospital bed Agatha is in for her recovery, and she finds herself distracted trying to shove her wife off.

Children. Claire Elizabeth shakes her head disapprovingly, turning towards Evalyn Grace. Our parents are children.

Evalyn Grace giggles and agrees, and an emotion Agatha can't place settles on top of her chest.

Wanda pulls her close, tucking her underneath her head and pressing a kiss to the top of her skull.

Lucky. Agatha decides. I feel lucky.

She's surrounded by her family, her children and she has not become her mother.

She is now confident she won't ever become like her.

And she feels lucky that Wanda hadn't given up on her, that Nicholas had pushed and pushed, that Gial had come into their lives, and that between the three of them, Agatha had found within herself the bravery to have her own children, to make it a conscious decision instead of something that just happened through circumstance.

She smiles against Wanda's chest.

She has five wonderful, caring children.

She feels warmth spread through her at the thought.

Agatha has always known she had wanted to be a mother.

And here she is.

#sky writes #sky's fics #agatha harkness #agatha harkness x wanda maximoff #c: agatha #evanora harkness #c: evanora #kathryn hahn #angst #dark themes

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fallingfor-fics · 4 months

Text

Centuries- Agatha Harkness x Reader ❤️‍🔥

My first official woman x reader post this is scary. Please tell me your thoughts. Minors begon

Warnings: breif angst, jelously, SMUT, both fem receiving, strap on, magical bondage.

Word count: 9.8k (damn-)

Summary: You meet Agatha in a small town after not seeing her for centuries. You are threatened by her relationship with Wanda, and you argue but eventually makeup and she fucks some sense into ya!

The eerie sound of the fireplace crackling and the wind pressing the trees into the windows took over my senses as I attempted to block out the speech the leader of our coven was spewling. She was going on and on, manipulating the rest of the women into agreeing with her and helping her. I didn’t know what to do if I was being honest, but I knew the feeling I got upon hearing Evanoras words, twisted my stomach. To hear her so casually, and crazily admit what her daughter was getting involved in was worthy of execution by your very own coven— your family, that scared me just as much as the knowledge that Agatha was practicing dark magic. I guess I understood why Agatha didn’t tell me she was learning such things, not that I would have wanted this to happen to her, I just would have tried to persuade her to not do it at all. However none of this mattered because she had done it, and now she had gotten caught. And there left me, being forced to join the others and help with her demise. Agatha was my friend, and I wanted nothing more than to save her. But all it would take is one comment from me about these being extreme measures and they would put me right up there with her. I guess they may as well have, I was no better than the others for not at least trying to do something about it.

“Y/n, are you listening!? this is important, we do not know what she is capable of!” Evanora yelled, snapping me out of my cloudy haze and causing me to shift my eyes from the fireplace back onto hers. Her eyes were full of tainted emotions and jealousy. She never cared for Agatha and for some reason assumed we didn’t either.

“Yes, Evanora. I know this, I just think you’re asking a lot of us. Why can’t we just condemn her from the group and send her away? why must we kill her?” I asked out softly, hoping she would believe I was just afraid.

She sighed and her voice trembled as she spoke. “Are you saying you want to risk all of us,” she gestured to the other girls which caused them to flick their gazes between one another. “and the humans, to be victims of Agatha’s darkness? or even just risk the factor of Humans finding out about us with her recklessness?” she inquired with an accusatory tone.

I saw the other women look around to me with worried glares and I sighed. Dropping my head and shaking it no. “Of course not, but what if she kills us in the process, like you said we have no clue what she could do.”

Evanora shook her head with a frustrated laugh and then stared hard at the girls. “She won’t stand a chance against us all. This is why we must stay together, and work together to ensure we are all safe from her impulsive actions.” She added a flare of despair to her tone to really make sure her claws where latched into the girls.

I didn’t see Agatha again until she was up on the stake. Surrounded by the rest of her fellow witches that once called her their sister, but also her mother, the woman who’d created her, tarnished her, and now prepared to murder her. I had listened to what Evanora had said, and she was right we did have to all work together. Which is why at the last moment while Agatha remained under a spell and tied to the stake while the women got in their positions, I hid. I remained in the house and watched from the window. Agatha awoke soon and the annihilation began.

I heard Agatha beg her mother not to do it and held back tears as her mother showed no ounce of remorse. I prepared for the loss of my best friend and then heard the sound of magic being used and Agatha crying out. I think over the years I had gotten better at blocking these kinds of things out. I don’t remember the details of exactly what happened next. I just remember silence and then emerging from the house to find all of the coven dead and Agatha nowhere to be found. The story haunted me every day, it bled into my dreams and my thoughts, nothing I could do would erase the sound of Agatha’s pleas or the guilt that ran through me just as it did then. And what made it worse was never seeing her again and not knowing where she was. I had been alive for decades now, adapted to all the change and forgetting as much of the life in Salem as I could. I tried to be normal, I was smart with it because in this era of superheroes, the last thing i’d want was for them to discover a witch, and heaven forbid try to get me on their team. I wasn’t interested in making a spectacle of myself and saving lives, but more so moving from the past and keeping to myself. I was moving to a new neighborhood, my time growing shorter in the last, and feeling I was ready for the change anyways. I had to keep up the act, and ensure no one noticed the youthful glow that remained on my skin. I wasn’t quite immortal, yet. I wanted to give it time and was still figuring out how to make it really last in all honesty. It was hard without a coven or a mentor. But I sucked it up for the mere fact I was probably only one of a few witches left from the original Salem lineage if there were any others at all. I couldn’t speak for the rest of the world however. But I knew if there were any here, they were hiding it like me.

I pulled into the new neighborhood and began unpacking soon, I did most of it within the day, and before I knew it i’d spent a few days in my new home. I hadn’t gotten out much so hadn’t had the chance to meet new people quite yet, but figured I didn’t really need to. However when I came into town a weird feeling had arose, I didn’t know why or what caused it but this location just felt different. I made my way in and out of the house unloading groceries and on my last trip out, I heard a sweet voice chirp my way.

“Hello, I don’t think we have met, I'm your neighbor Wanda!” a woman with green eyes and gingery, almost scarlet hair spoke out from her driveway.

I smiled and stepped closer to meet her by the mailbox, “Hi it’s nice to meet you I’m Y/n.” I spoke as I accepted her extended hand. Immediately I could feel through her grip what she was, or at least I had a suspicion. The look in her eyes when mine locked with her emerald ones only added to that suspicion. I pulled my hand back but kept a smile.

“How long have you been in Westview Wanda?” I carried on and she tilted her head.

“About a few months I would say, what about you?” her question was simple but something about the tone she spoke in gave me chills.

“Just a few days really.”

She nodded and looked at my house, “Well your home is lovely I would invite you over to chat, but i’m afraid my boys have left quite the mess.” she looked back at me with a playful grin, “but I still would love to have you over tomorrow for a small gathering i’m having, just my family and a few others from in town, and you will also get a chance to meet one of our other closeby neighbors.” she suggested with a raised brow.

“Um, sure that would be nice, what time?”

She gave me the time and told me it was nothing fancy and I didn’t need formal attire of any kind, and then left me to finish getting settled in. As soon as I got inside I shut all my blinds and peaked through the window on the side of the upstairs, the one that sat above my bed. I couldn’t see into Wanda’s home but ignored the temptation to take a look with my magic. I had a nagging feeling about that woman and didn’t want to make any rash decisions just yet.

*******

The next day I prepared some baked goods to bring over to Wanda’s home, some homemade cinnamon cookies and a bottle of wine. I wore something casual like she’d said, a very simple skirt with a sweater and makeup. I wanted to make a good first impression of course and if Wanda did end up being a simple woman than I had hopes of us being friends. I looked at my watch and saw it was almost 6 and grabbed my purse, the cookies, and wine before heading out the front door. The cool air nipped at my exposed legs but the walk next door was over before it was bothersome. I knocked softly on the door and almost like she’d been waiting Wanda opened the door with a large smile.

“Y/n hi! Welcome, come on in!” she moved out of the doorway and I greeted her as I walked in, there were a handful of other men and women in the living room and kitchen, soft music playing and a calm almost monotonous demeanor amongst everyone as they conversed with each other.

“I brought you some wine and cookies.” I said as she shut the door and led me through the house.

She gratefully accepted them and showed me around the downstairs of her home. Eventually moving to introduce me to the other guests. I met a few other couples from around town and they told me a little bit about themselves and their jobs. I was wrapping up a conversation with someone in the kitchen when I heard Wanda mentioning my name to somebody from the entryway.

“Oh Agnes I think you will just adore the new woman that moved in, her name is Y/n she is from… well I actually dont know that just yet, but here she's in the kitchen.” Her voice grew louder as I walked towards her and prepared myself to meet yet another stranger, but I trusted Wanda's judgement so far and threw a warm smile on my face as I emerged from the kitchen. I stopped in my tracks when I saw the dark haired woman. Wanda had her hands rested softly on her waist and didnt drop them as she kept her in front of me. I stood in silence for a few seconds, trying to blink away her appearance thinking it may have been my mind fooling with me. But still the woman before me remained the same girl I hadnt seen for centuries. The look on her face was one of shock as well, however she recovered much faster and threw a fake smile back on and extended her hand. I eventually brought myself back to reality and kept my eyes on hers as I accepted her soft and cold hand.

“Hi, lovely to meet you Y/n. How are you enjoying Westview so far?” she cheered with a large smile.

I was still having trouble accepting it was Agatha that was staring me down, I felt like I was in a dream, or under a spell. I could barely find my words as I stared deep into her blue eyes that were unable to mask her emotions. I knew why she was acting as if we didnt know one another, but seeing her brought back memories of all the time we had spent together before she made her poor decisions.

“Hello, um its been f-fine. Wanda has been an exceptional host this evening as well.” I looked to the auburn haired woman attempting to shift the conversation off of myself. I noted her hands that were still on the brunettes waist and felt my stomach twist in a strange way.

Wanda waved her hand to brush off the compliment and gave me a smile. “Oh please! Agnes here has been in the neighborhood longer than I, she showed me around and has been a breath of fresh air.” she said with a wink to the woman next to her who returned it with a smile, “Im hoping she can show you around some more as well!” We both just smiled and nodded.

Wanda soon excused herself to go speak with her husband and a few other guests, leaving Agatha and I in an awkward tension. I couldnt help the feeling bubbling inside that arose from the dynamic of the two women. I didnt know why, I had only just seen the two and its not as if I had any right whatsoever to pass judgement let alone be jealous if that was indeed what I was feeling. I slowly locked my eyes with hers again and she looked me up and down, I assumed to assure herself I was really here as well. I opened my mouth to speak and she stepped closer to interrupt me.

“If you'll excuse me.” was all she said, a smile on her face but a solemn tone in her voice, almost like she was bored of me already.

I wondered if she really didnt recognize me, but I had a feeling that wasn't the case unless all this time apart meant I would have to relearn her expressions and quirks. I watched as she departed and went to talk with some of the neighbors. I spent the evening attempting to make more friends and revisit some of the guests I got the best impressions from, hoping to forget about the raven haired woman that stood on the other side of the room who never spared me another glance. I couldn't say the same for myself, I would look at her any chance I got as if I didn't want to loose the opportunity to memorize her face. Not that I'd forgotten it really, she did look a tad different, more matured than when we were young. However that didn't stop my chest from tightening when I would look over her glowing, pale face, her dark hair made her eyes shine and her smile was like a plague. I would shake myself out of the trance when I would get the inkling I had been staring a tad too long and then mumble a contribution to the boring conversations I joined. It eventually got later and as time passed I felt more and more tired and heavy. My chest was beginning to turn into a sinkhole and I just wanted to lay down and forget about the evening. I was too afraid to approach Agatha again and figured she wasnt going to approach me. I guess I assumed she didn't really want anything to do with me-- which was valid after what I did. A few guests had departed already and I made my way around the house to find Wanda and say goodbye, I found her in the kitchen playfully joking with Agatha, a hand brushing her arm in a light-hearted manner. I felt awkward interrupting but I knew Wanda would have no way of noticing.

“Hey Wanda I think im going to head out, but thank you so much for having me I had a wonderful time, maybe we can get together for lunch this week?” I said politely.

She smiled and nodded pulling me in for a small hug, “Yes of course, thank you so much for coming Y/n!” I looked over Wandas shoulder and Agatha was sipping her wine with an eye roll as she stared off out the window. I pulled away and smiled once again in Agathas direction.

“Oh and Agnes it was lovely to meet you as well.” I extended a hand and I could tell she was reluctant to take it. Not because she was nervous of course, but because she was already fed up with my fake cheery attitude. Thus meaning she was still able to read me exceptionally well, and better than I could her. Once our hands connected I felt my chest tighten again and the sadness creep over me slowly, I pulled mine away soon after and departed with a smile and a wave.

I made my way outside and quickly walked the short distance to my house. I shut the door with a sigh and took a moment to center myself. Recapping the evening in my head to make sure it was indeed real and over with nonetheless. After kicking off my shoes I let my hair down and slipped my bra off and tossed it to the air, allowing it to vanish to the dirty laundry pile upstairs, and moving to the kitchen to grab more wine. I hadn't had much at Wandas since I wanted to give a good impression. I began to fill the glass, pausing to let out another stress filled and exhausted sigh as I took a big sip from the glass and filled it up again.

“Save some for me dear.” I heard a sarcastic voice chirp from behind me, causing me to jump and drop the glass.

I wasnt shocked at who I saw or how she got in, more so why she was here. I held a hand to my chest and let out a frustrated grunt as I looked at the glass on the floor, as well as the wine dripping down my legs and spilled on the hardwood.

“Jesus Agatha you could have been a little more gentle with that.” I waved my hand and the sapphire magic erased the mess and then summoned a new glass in my hand.

“Well now you know how I felt walking into Wandas home… and seeing you today.” she said with a scoff as she used magic of her own to get a glass as well as the bottle, pouring it for herself and then handing it to me. I took it and filled up the glass.

“I didn't do that on purpose. Why are you here Agatha? I think you made it pretty clear over there how much you care to speak with me.” I walked past her to go sit on my sofa and she followed, sitting in the chair next to it. I couldnt bring myself to look at her now that we were alone and she would be returning the contact.

“You know I was going to ask you the same question, why are you in Westview? I'm flattered, really, you have managed to hunt me down.” she said with a cocky grin and I rolled my eyes.

“Believe it or not I havent been hunting you down, I didnt even know for sure if you were alive let alone that I would find you in this hysterical little town.” I finally locked eyes with her and she stared at me with confusion.

“Then why are you here?”

I let out a sarcastic laugh, “To live my life Agatha, nothing more.”

Her gaze shifted over my tense form and she smiled, “Hmm and you just so happened to end up in the only town occupied by not one, but two witches?”

My eyes snapped back to hers and I tucked my feet off the ground and under my bottom. “So you know about Wanda, I guess thats no surprise. I think she knows about me already too.”

“Wow a few days and your secrets already out. So you're not here to form another coven are you? Because I can tell you I won’t ever join one of those sister clubs again and I know Wanda won't either.” She mocked and I just shook my head.

“Yeah I can tell you guys are pretty close.” I muttered and then brought my glass to my lips. She gave me a look with the tilt of her head but I ignored it. After a moment I softened my gaze towards her, she was never very serious so I approached my next question with caution. “How have you been Agatha? I mean… where did you go that day?”

She shifted uncomfortably and got up out of the chair to walk around my home, avoiding my question she asked her own, “So no family or friends? How are you even still alive Y/n?”

I played with the hem of my sweater and shrugged, “I figured it out.” was all I said and she hummed.

“You know Westview is way too small for the three of us, luckily Wanda doesn't know about me, but I doubt she would really want you here for long.” she prodded, now standing behind the sofa and hovering over me. I felt her hand come to play with my hair and a chill went down my spine.

“Shes not going to do anything, I don't think she has the desire to hurt anyone, I will say though, I always assumed Evanora made up the story of The Scarlet Witch.”

Agatha dropped my hair and moved to walk around again, an obvious reaction to the mention of her mother. I contemplated pressing for more answers, but I didn't know what she expected us to talk about.

“You know I don't blame you for what you did that day, I know it was just what had to be done. I mean that's why I wasn't there, I didn't agree with it.” My tone was sweet and sincere and I hoped she would know I meant no harm in my comments. She appeared in a swift cloud before me and I looked up at her from the couch.

“Oh, so you disagreed, just not enough to stop them.” she said in a strict tone but I knew her better than to assume she was still angry about this maybe just a little bitter if anything.

“I did stop them. You know attempting to convince them otherwise would have been unfeasible, I ran and in doing so it granted you freedom despite knowing what you were involved in. I cared about you Agatha-- I still do, I wouldn't have let them hurt you.” I spoke honestly, trying my best to defend myself.

“Cared so much about me you allowed me to kill the entire coven, even Evanora.” she scoffed, stepping closer and I stood up, our faces now a foot from one another.

“How dare you try and put that on me, that was your decision not mine. I told you not to practice dark magic and you didn't listen. You're lucky I did care about you or else I would have joined them and you would be dead!” I stammered out in a quick breath. We both stood in silence for a moment, “You should go.” I huffed, turning and walking upstairs.

I went into my bedroom, closing the door behind me with a frustrated sigh as I sat on my bed, I didnt know why she came over if it was just to try and get in my head and blame me for her stupidity. I already lived with the guilt from that situation everyday. I didnt need her making it worse just for the fun of it. I heard her appear in my room and I looked up with a roll of my eyes.

“Shouldn't you just go home, or to Wandas for gods sake?” I complained with a mocking tone. I didnt mean to throw in the part about Wanda, that kind of just came out. I hadn't even realized I was still hung up on them.

“Awe, is Y/n feeling a little jealous of Wanda? You know sweetie if you had found me sooner we probably could be good friends still, though we both know we were always more than that.” she avoided my initial question, immediately going for the easy harassment that I practically set up for her.

My eyes snapped to hers and I wasn't sure if she had read my mind or could just tell by the way I spoke about the kind woman next door. The nickname didn't help my case either since it caused me to straighten up and my confidence to shoot down.

“I'm not jealous- and I told you, I wasn't looking for you. Plus its not like you had tried to look for me either.” I quipped back and she nodded.

“Well I had bigger fish to fry darling.” She teased and I rolled my eyes.

“If you aren't going to tell me why you're here, can you just leave?” I muttered. I was feeling drained now, bummed out and wanting to be alone since the woman infront of me was currently only interested in playing mind games. Its not like that wasn't normal for her, but after all this time and everything we had gone through, it felt mundane. I don’t think I'd realized now either just how long it had been and how much I'd missed her. I mean I thought of her all the time yes, but now it was all coming back in the way it had been when we were young, and I wanted things to be normal but it was far too late for that to ever happen. Now I just wished she would at least be transparent with me.

“You dont want me to leave though.” she spoke and I fell back on the bed, pressing my hands over my face. I felt my chest sink into the mattress and a knot formed in my throat, I shoved it down for the most part but a small tear of frustration, guilt, and albeit depressing fondness pushed past my eye and down my cheek before I quickly wiped it in hopes she didnt see.

I felt her magic wrap around my wrists and pull my hands from my face, I didn't attempt to stop her but didn't look to face her either.

“Y/n dont cry, look, I'm sorry. Really I am, you know I’ve never handled this kind of stuff well, and it was a big shock seeing you here today, out of the blue like that.” she opened up but her voice remained playful, still not completely allowing herself to be soft with me.

I sat up and she came to sit next to me on the bed, “I know, I know. If I had known you were here I would have…” I paused looking down and fiddling with my fingers. “Well I probably would have came anyway. I've missed you a lot to be honest. Im sure you know how lonely it can be for us on our own, well I guess not, you have Wanda.” I didnt mean it in a bitter way, it was true she had a friend who somewhat understood even if she didnt know her secret. Agatha let out a small laugh and shook her head, hesitantly placing a hand on my thigh.

“If it helps I missed you too, you were the only one in that coven that I trusted.” she said in a soft tone and I smiled, getting the confidence to look her in the eyes. Hers were more gentle now, not as condescending as they had been earlier and full of genuine emotions.

“Can I ask you why you started the dark magic? What you had wasnt enough? You were already and exceptionally powerful witch.”

Her hand came up off my thigh and I regretted asking the question since it meant the loss of her touch and she looked away, “I dont know. It wasnt really dark magic to me, it just felt like mine, as if it was made to be used, like all magic is.”

I knew that answer should be concerning, but what was strange was how she was right. I raised a hand and gently swirled my fingers to emit the power from my hand and she looked down at it. “Strangely, I think I know what you mean”

The sapphire light glowed onto our faces and she lifted her own hand emitting her own purple magic with a mischievous grin. She playfully nudged my arm and shook her head with a laugh.

“I knew it. There had to be a reason you were still so young, and around for that matter.” She joked referring to the soft hugh the dark magic infiltrated into my light blue, ‘good magic’, that caused it to be the deep sapphire color it was now.

I didnt use it often, but I had discovered over the years that dark magic had its perks. The only reason mine wasn't a beautiful violet glow like Agathas was because I hadn't been practicing as often or for as long. I stared in awe at the colors that danced before us and moved my hand closer to hers, the light mixed to an indigo and with the magic we could feel one anothers emotions and thoughts, something we did often when we were young to feel more connected to one another. I could feel how Agatha missed our old relationship and I knew she could feel the regret that weighed me down each day. For some reason her darker magic wouldn't allow me to fully see her, but she could see every doubt, regret, joy, and even envy that I was feeling. I couldn't help I really was an intensely jealous person and the longer we had been reunited the more time I had to think of all the things I missed and all the things she did, or people she may have been with in my absence.

“Y/n, sweetie there really is nothing going on with Wanda and I.” she stated sweetly and I softly lowered my hand back to my lap and she did the same.

“I just hate so much time was wasted, I mean you were my best friend and then all of the sudden you were gone. And now you have been here making a new witch friend-- and I saw the way you looked at her. I know that look Agatha.” My rambled, mocking, words were spoken in a hushed tone and I kept my gaze on my fingers.

Her hand came to take mine and she intertwined our fingers, “Believe me when I say its no fun having to hide your powers from another witch. Its nothing even close to how it was with us. Wanda is nice yes, have I thought about the possibility also yes, but I never acted on anything because for one she is a very devoted wife, and two I gave up on that stuff after we were separated.”

“You never fell in love all these years?” I asked with a confused gaze.

“You did?” she asked with slight shock.

“I have loved, dont know if I was in love.” I responded simply

I looked at her and gave a small smile, resting my head on her shoulder. Her sweet aroma surrounded me and I was hit with waves of memories. She wrapped an arm around me and kissed the top of my head after a moment I sat away slowly so we could be face to face. She looked over my face, quickly interpreting the look in my eyes and gave me a witchy grin before looking to my lips. She raised a hand to gently grip around my jaw and pulled me in for a kiss. I immediately sunk into it and it felt just the same as it had back then only now it was full of intense emotion from the centuries it spent building up. I leaned my body in closer and smiled into the kiss, both of us letting out small giggles before she wrapped her other arm around my waist and deepened the kiss while gently stroking my cheek with her thumb.

I pulled away with pink lips and grinned at her, “I missed you.” I stated.

She smiled and brushed some of my hair back, “Lets not waste any more time then, darling.” she teased and I laughed, cupping her cheek and pulling her in for a kiss once more.

We moved slowly, not rushing our actions so we could make sure we took in every breath. Our lips moved in perfect sync as if it was muscle memory and I ran my hand through her dark hair with a smile. She softly drifted her hand up and down the side of my stomach before tracing it up to the side of my jaw sending a rush of chills through my body. She gripped around my chin and I instinctively parted my lips so she could deepen the kiss with her tongue. I felt her other hand grip my waist and she pushed it back as she straddled my legs and pushed me to lay on the bed. Our lips remained together, my face growing hotter as the blood ran to my cheeks and it traveled between my legs and caused a flutter to travel within my chest. She hovered over me not allowing our chests to meet yet and continued to control the harshness of the startegic kiss, never letting her lips move unintentionally. She was always excellent at this game, and knew every twitch and motion to drive me insane. After a moment she pulled away, my bottom lip caught between her teeth with a smile before she released it and stared into my eyes. I turned my head to the side, not being able to resist the slight embarrassment I felt. Without lifting a finger her magic tilted my head to face her again and her eyes softly sparkled purple. I had never really been with her while she used this kind of magic, but it somehow made her even more beautiful and enchanting. I didn't have to voice my endearing thoughts either since my mind was completely vulnerable around her, even if I blocked away my thoughts, she had always been capable of seeing through. She just gave me a smile before moving her hands from either side of me, causing her body weight to shift and press down against me, our hips now pressed together and our legs intertwined. Her cold hands drifted up under my sweater and gently moved over my abdomen before brushing over my breasts. I leaned up to capture her in a kiss again and she locked her lips onto mine with a gentle force, eventually kissing down my jaw and neck as her hands continued to feel over my chest. I let out a soft and hushed moan as she sucked and lightly bit a tender spot on my neck and she let out a muffled laugh.

“Come on dont hold back on me now sweetheart.” she teased in a sensual tone and I felt my thighs squeeze together around her leg that was conveniently pushed between my own. A chill traveled over my body at her voice rumbling against my skin.

She moved her leg that resided between mine up so it would press against my core, my skirt now being in the way of her knee applying any satisfying pressure between my thighs. I waved a hand causing the skirt to disappear and she pulled up with a smile. She kissed my lips gently and looked down to my sweater.

“Might as well-” she nodded her head and my sweater disappeared leaving me in just my underwear, and my breasts exposed to her. I blushed intensely and let out a small gasp, she reached a hand up to twirl a piece of my hair and I took the time to admire her face with an innocent smile across my own.

My hands came up to cup around her face and kiss her again, playing with her long hair. I moved my hands down her side and over her stomach, moving my hand between us and over her clothed center but she pulled away from the kiss and I looked up into her eyes, they turned purple once again and my hands were brought up above my head. I frowned and furrowed my brows, my legs moving in protest but she pressed her hips down firmly once more and guided her knee to rub against my underwear and I let out a soft grunt.

“Dont be shy darling, I know you remember what to do.” her voice spoke softly and she dipped her head down to kiss along my neck and then down to my chest.

Her soft lips traveled over my collarbones and then to the dip between my breasts, her hands drifting over my nipples gently as she took her time back up to my lips. I slowly moved my hips against her knee, moaning into the kiss at the friction against my covered clit. She smirked and then moved back to my breasts, taking one of the sensitive peaks into her mouth and sucking on it gently. I pressed myself against her leg harder and began to grind against it with soft noises creeping from my lips. I was frustrated being unable to touch her but didn't bother to fight her power. She pulled away from my chest with a smile and sat up as I stayed lying and looking up to her. I may have not been able to touch her, but I was still able to use my own magic. I flashed a cocky grin her way before her own shirt disappeared and she was left in her bra and pants. She looked down at herself and then shook her head with a smile. She moved her hair over one shoulder and then ran her hands over my stomach and hips, stopping along my thighs to squeeze them and gently scratch down them. I stared at her in awe, she was absolutely stunning sitting above me, her pale skin contrasting with her dark hair and purple bra causing my stomach to twirl.

“You're beautiful Agatha, please let me touch you now.” I begged and she gave me a sympathetic smile before shaking her head.

“Not yet, be patient. I want to be able to make up for lost time and show you how much I've missed my sweet, and obedient, little witch.” she mocked in a condescending but sultry tone and I let out a shaky breath.

She stepped off the bed and stood by the edge, running her hands along the waistband of my panties before hooking them around her finger and making a show of how slow she slid them off. She ran a hand down my stomach and I arched into her touch, not taking my eyes off of her mischievous ones. Her fingers brushed past my mound and her hands moved to bend my knees and then spread my thighs apart farther. She placed kisses along the insides of them and dug her fingers into my skin. I was practically squirming beneath her in anticipation as she got closer to my center. Her lips moved between my folds and she licked a single line barely grazing my clit. I knew better than to think my release would come soon and I'd get the opportunity to please her, since it had been so long I had hope she would want to speed things up but to my dismay she continued on in her antagonizing pace. Her tongue began to move over my nerves in slow circles with a bit more pressure and I let out another moan. My hands were still held above my head with purple magic and her nails in my thighs kept me from being able to squeeze them together. After a few minutes of focus to my clit and my thighs beginning to quiver she pulled away and plunged her tongue into my entrance. I let out a louder noise at the feeling and my eyes rolled shut and my back arched up higher. I muttered a ‘Fuck’ under my breath and could feel her smile between my legs as she retracted her tongue and then brought one of her hands to glide her fingers through the wet mess id begun to create thanks to her. Her thumb pushed around my clit and my hips jerked slightly to which she laughed.

“All this time and you're still so sensitive pet.” she teased and I opened my eyes. The nickname sent goosebumps over my body and I locked my eyes with hers.

“Please Agatha no games?” I whined and she shook her head before sliding two fingers into me, her eyes not moving from mine and a devilish grin gracing her face.

My back arched off the bed once again as she slowly moved her fingers in and out, eventually curling them up and stroking along the sensitive part of my cunt. She kept her pace easy and consistent before leaning back down and flicking her tongue over my clit.

“Fuck Agatha.” I moaned out, jerking my wrists with the desire to run them in her hair nagging at me.

She continued her work effortlessly and with grace, soon picking up the pace of her fingers and pushing them in and out with more force. I could feel an orgasm building up and tried my best to keep my body from tightening and convulsing around her fingers since I knew how she played this particular game. I let out a hefty moan as she pushed in and curled up her fingers and her tongue ran heavily over my clit, my hips moving down and my back arching up. She smiled against me as she pulled away, bringing her fingers out as well. I let out a huff and locked my eyes with hers and tried to look as helpless as possible.

“Look at me like that all you want, we both know I wont let you finish that fast baby.” she taunted and I leaned my head back down with a groan.

Still unable to move my hands, she moved to hover over me again and placed soft kisses up my stomach and chest before reaching my lips, I went to kiss her with slightly parted lips and she placed previously hardworking fingers in my mouth instead. I looked into her eyes and she had a devilish grin on her face, her eyebrows raising as she waited for me to follow suit. I pursed my lips over her slick fingers and kept my eyes on hers as I tasted myself and treated her slender fingers like a candy.

“Just like that darling, god you're still such a little slut. And god have I missed you.” her words were spoken erotically, but had sweet endearment laced around them. And she confirmed the tender emotion by removing her hand and kissing me hard and with a desire that could only be described as unholy.

As sad as it sounds, if I hadnt been feeling such immense amounts of pleasure, I would have cried at the simple admittance that she missed me this much. I smiled into the kiss and lifted my knee so that it was up between her legs now and she laughed, pulling away and sitting up off the bed. I loved our usual roles in the bedroom, however that meant she was always more stubborn in letting me please her. I of course didnt mind her toying with me and having her way, but I often wanted the pleasure of driving her crazy for once, and leading her to her own release. Being able to ride the high of being good for her. And when she would allow me to do such things, the praise I would receive was astronomical. I focused, catching her off guard and was able to pull my hands apart with mild struggle, leaning up to grab the loops of her jeans and keep her close to me.

“Please Agatha, I understand how we used to do things, but in this moment let me help you.” I begged with pleading eyes, they flashed a soft sapphire as I used my magic to try and persuade her. I wasnt attempting to control her, but I was showing her glimpses of what could happen if she let me please her.

“Fine. But you still have to follow my rules okay dear?” she chirped with a grin and I nodded.

“I wouldnt expect anything else.” I agreed and ran my hands up her bare waist before cupping her face to lean down and kiss me again.

She flicked her hand and her pants were removed, now only standing in her undergarments, and myself still completely nude. She grabbed my arms and gently pulled me off the bed and took my place sitting on the edge. I felt my chest flutter in anticipation as I played out where this was going in my head, without instruction I went to my knees. She sat for a moment, a wicked grin plastered over her face, gazing down at me in all her confident glory. With pale skin that almost glistened under the moonlight being cast from the window, and her eyes darkening, she gently ran her hand through my hair and admired my obedient frame. She leaned forward to roughly grasp my jaw in her hand and kiss me with more force, our lips intertwined and her tongue slipped past mine. I hummed into the kiss and pulled away with a innocent smile. I gently ran my hand up and down her leg and she smirked.

“You know, I would love to just sit here all night admiring how pretty you look on your knees,” she started and I furrowed my brows for a moment, “but I cant hold back much longer baby and I know how eager you are to put on a good show for me.” she teased and I smiled.

I placed kisses up her silky legs and she spread her thighs apart, “I dont know how long we were apart Agnes, but it was most definitely, way too long for me to not get a chance to do this while we are together.” I stated and she scoffed.

“Of course darling. But dont get so cocky, keep in mind who really has all the power here.” she spoke with a wink and a chill carried itself up my spine.

“I would never think otherwise” I said softly with half lided eyes that couldnt tear away from the glorious woman before me. I slid my hands up her thighs to the waistband of her underwear, not tearing my eyes from her and she watched with amusement.

“Dont be afraid now, I dont bite.” she whispered.

I laughed as I continued my hands and slipped off her panties. “We both know that's a lie Miss Harkness.” I said with a smirk as I dropped the cloth to the floor and used all my will to keep my eyes on her.

She tutted and tilted her head, “We all know what name I prefer sweetie, use it.” she reminded me with a serious tone, but a small smirk gracing her face.

“My apologies, Mistress.” I batted my eyelashes with a fake mischevious innocence flickering in my eyes, she grinned but it quickly faded and she leaned closer to grab my jaw with more force than she’d been using,

“You're such a little tease, enough with the games princess. Try again.” She tutted dissaprovingly, sending a flush across my face and causing my core to throb.

“My apologies, mommy.” I said softly and she placed a gentle kiss on my forehead.

“Now be a good girl and get to work.” She whispered in my ear and then let go of my jaw with a harsh movement. She leaned back on her elbows and gazed down at me. I probably looked like a deer in headlights, slightly taken aback by the action, and allowing it to momentarily distract me from my plan. I blinked a few times before nodding gently and sitting up off my knees. I leaned in to her core and placed the softest of kisses on her inner thighs. I could practically hear her eyes rolling and I smirked against her. Eventually I realized I lacked half the will power that she possessed, and was incapable of holding back. I quickly twirled my tongue over her clit with force and collected the wetness around her entrance. I continued licking in lines over her clit, not changing my speed but increasing the pressure. She didnt take her dark eyes off of me and I grew self conscious. However, we both knew what the other liked, and I was most definitely not giving her what she wanted just yet. I caught her off guard by pulling away and kissing her, turning my head to nip at her inner thigh, earning a shocked groan from her.

“Quit holding back, Y/n. You wanted this so bad, what did I say about games?” her tone flattened and she looked at me with displeasure.

I smirked, “I thought you liked games? You're always playing them after all.” I raised an eyebrow, surprised at my own curtness, hoping it would pay off. However, next thing I knew she had raised her hand and pressed a brisk slap to my face, not enough to hurt too bad or leave me in shock, but enough to sting in the most pleasurable way.

“If you dont carry on, I will just leave you like this and finish on my own.” she seethed and I felt my skin grow hot.

“Forgive me mommy,” I said doing my best to hide the sarcasm lacing my words as I leaned in to kiss her slick core “I just dont want this moment to end.” I quickly lifted my hand and slipped two fingers inside her without warning, she let out a quiet gasp and her eyes rolled shut. I smirked and continued to apply pressure to her clit with my tounge as I moved in and out of her entrance. I then replaced my tongue with my thumb so I could slide my body up hers, crawling on the bed to press my bare chest against hers. She opened her eyes and ours met, I got flashes of her thoughts and half were full of pleasure and admiration, but a stronger and more malicious group of thoughts were centered around the lack of control she felt in the moment. I grew worried she would back out and want to refocus on me, so I leaned down to kiss her with a tender and natural force. Kissing her sweetly as my fingers curled inside her. I pulled away and with a blink her bra dissapeard, my eyes flashing blue for a moment before I moved down to place sloppy kisses across her chest and over her breasts. I tried to not linger on them too long as I knew she would catch me staring at her perfect chest. I took a nipple in my mouth and mimicked her motions from earlier. I could feel her bare stomach pressing up against my chest as she arched off the bed. However I felt her hand come to the back of my head and she tugged on my hair, eventually pulling me away from her chest and guiding me back down to her core. She clearly had no interest in me taking my time to appreciate every inch of her. I reluctantly but happily obliged and allowed my tongue to take over on her clit once more. She moaned out and leaned her head back, arching her back slightly.

“Yes my sweet girl, just like that, you're being so good.” she praised and I smiled moaning into my actions, the vibrations traveling through her core causing a deep moan to escape her throat. I could feel my own wetness practically dripping down my thigh. I quickened my pace with my fingers, curling up and pushing them in deeper with each motion. I sucked on her clit and felt her nails dig into my hair as her thighs came to squeeze my head. We both let out moans and I could feel her tightening around my fingers and I continued my motions. She moaned louder and yelled for me to look at her. My eyes met her foggy ones as her mouth slowly fell open and she tried to hide the pleasure that spread across her expression. “Alright princess, be a good girl and make mommy cum.”

I did as I was told and used more force with my fingers, keeping pressure moving in circles on her clit and watched as she arched her back, her legs beginning to twitch and her toes curl. We kept eye contact as I moaned against her and used my free hand to grab hold of her thigh and keep it from moving, making her feel every twirl of my tongue on her sensitive bud. “Ah- fuck” she gasped as she shook around my fingers and her release washed through her. I didnt stop my movements, and her eyes squeezed shut. I expected to feel her back away after her orgasm and move on, but I kept my motions in hope of driving her towards a second, and sure enough I felt her clenching around my fingers once more and I moved my hand from her thigh so she could squeeze them around me as she tugged on my hair. “God- you're doing so good” she exclaimed softly and I sped up my tongue. Her body twitched and she arched her back up off the bed as she moaned and came on my fingers for a second time. I smiled and after a few seconds of allowing her to ride it out, I pulled my fingers out and she watched as I placed them in my mouth as she had done earlier and she let out a pleased scoff.

“Come here.” she ordered and I quickly crawled back onto the bed with a smile. She wasted no time and pushed me to lie down, straddling my hips again but this time a cryptic smile appeared on her face and her eyes shined that familiar hue of purple. My hands were bound together and lifted above my head once again to which I protested and tried to use my own magic to free them, but she just laughed and wrapped a cold hand around my throat and squeezed gently. I looked into her eyes with begging ones, hoping she would feel some remorse. But she just locked eye contact and placed a gentle and slow kiss to my lips. Her eyes remained purple and I soon felt something pressing against my stomach. I looked down to see a purple and black strap on secured to her waist. I had never used one with Agatha considering we had no way of getting one back then. Of course I used them with other women, but I grew nervous.

“Dont be scared baby, mommy will take care of you, just relax.” She soothed with condescesion and I nodded. “Now get on your knees.” She ordered and I wasted no time in listening. My face resting in the sheets since I couldnt hold myself up, but my ass perched in the air before her. I soon felt her press against me and with no warning she pushed into me. Filling me up and earning a moan from my chest. She slowly moved in and out and I felt her hand run up my back and scratch back down. She reached up again to tug on my hair and I felt her magic assist me in leaning up, I looked forward and there was now a mirror before me. I quickly locked eyes with Agatha, hers a deep purple and light magic twinled around my torso as she kept me hovering and bent over. I grunted with each thrust as she sped up and grew deeper. I felt her hand move from my back to snake around my stomach and slowly run down until she reaches my center and rubbed circles.

“I wont be able to last much longer” I exclaimed, not tearing my eyes from hers in the reflection. A devilish smile took over her face and I hoped she wasnt planning to keep me like this forever. As if she read my mind I felt my body be pulled up and against her. The new angle causing me to moan out loudly. I now felt the weight of my body sink down on her as my back pressed against her chest. She kept her hand wrapped around my stomach and rubbing rough circles around my sensitive core. Her other hand ran over my breasts and then came to my throat. My eyes had rolled shut and she spoke softly in my ear, sending chills down my spine.

“Open your eyes, you're going to miss the show.” Her hand tilted my jaw roughly back to the mirror and I hesitantly looked back at her.

“Please-” I whined out as she picked up speed with her hips and I felt my body convulsing around her.

“You're doing so well, sweet girl.” she taunted and I leaned my head back on her shoulder as she stroked my throat and I turned to kiss her.

“Go ahead and cum for me Princess.” she whispered into my mouth and within seconds my legs were faltering as I clenched around her. I went to fall forward, feeling her hands around my waist and her pulling out of me as she turned me to face her. She kissed me once more and and stroked my cheek, allowing me to slowly lay back on the bed. She stayed laying beside me, her chest pressing against mine as she kissed me and I pulled away to catch my breath. I placed tender kisses to her jaw and collarbone as I rested my head on her chest. I could hear her heart beating quickly and wrapped my hand around her stomach. I felt her stroke my hair and her chest rumbled as she spoke.

“You should have found me sooner, darling.” she mumbled with a grin and I smiled.

“You should have looked for me.” I quipped back and she laughed. I looked up at her and she placed a gentle kiss to my lips. Her smile fading and her eyes softening.

“I should have.” she agreed and I smiled. Nuzzling her neck before drifting off.

a/n god dayum that took forever, I hope you enjoyed!

#agatha harkness #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness smut #wandavision

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