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I. as it was

 

Time seemed to pass slower as Agatha lived hidden in the confines of Agnes' persona. She had already resigned herself from trying to break through Wanda's spell and almost found comfort on the solitude that firmly engulfed her mind. It was quiet. 

 

It was lonely.

 

So, imagine her surprise when something pulled her entire being from inside her body — or was it Agnes'? She didn't know anymore — and crimson eyes, red and deep like blood dripping hotly on skin, regarded her carefully. There was something glinting just beneath that gaze, something that made her heart stutter and her breath hitch. Wanda came back for her? 

 

— 

 

Wanda couldn't stop the hurt that housed itself deep into her chest. 

 

Most days she could pretend it wasn't there. Most days, she could almost not feel the tight strings of her magic binding Agatha to herself, painful and burning and broken. But every day, without failure, she could feel the regret caving its claws mercilessly through her conscience.

 

That was part of the reason why she flew back to Westview before the sun had risen and discreetly walked to Agatha's house. She had to make this right. And she would.

 

Runes were casted as Agnes' distractedly brewed them some tea. The starkly decorated living room was silent if not by the bubbling of water and a hummed tune under her breath. A gloved hand with swirls of red, dark magic gently touched Agatha's temple. A second ticked by.

 

The spell was finally lifted.

 



"W-Wanda? What are you doing here?" The brunette asked shakily, tumbling back as she tried to control her own body. Lean arms quickly enlaced her waist, steadying her before she could fall. The Scarlet Witch made a sad sound at the back of her throat.

 

"I've come to-" she breathed deeply, her heart seeming to crawl up her chest, "I've come to apologize, Agatha."

 

"Apologize? Oh, that's huge. The high and mighty Scarlet Witch has come to her senses then? What a surprise!" The woman sarcastically bit back although her voice still broke, and tears slowly fell down her face. Somehow, she didn't seem to notice the redhead securely holding her close, her grip gentle yet unyielding. Neither did Wanda.

 

"I was wrong, Agatha. You have to believe me," the grip on the other woman's waist tightened, "I-I can't forgive myself for what I did to you or Westview or everything else and I just- I can't bear the thought of you trapped any longer. You have to believe me." She finished brokenly, a sob erupting deep from her chest. 

 

Suddenly, she felt nimble fingers wipe a lone tear on her cheek, just as another one fell from her eyelashes. The woman slightly moved away from the embrace, eyes searching for sincerity and finding it almost immediately.

 

What an astonishing sight it was to see the Scarlet Witch cry so... Hopelessly. Agatha decided then that she couldn't watch it anymore.

 

"I can't say that I'll forgive you now, hot stuff," she whispered teasingly, even as her head throbbed and the absence of her magic was but a reminder of the emptiness inside, "But we will figure it out." She surprised herself by hugging the younger woman close, feeling lips lightly brushing her neck as she buried her head there. Agatha sighed. 

 

"Thank you... I know I don't deserve any of this but-" Wanda clasped her shirt with selfless desperation, "Thank you." They separated.

 

"I don't want to be here anymore, Red," was Agatha's quiet response, "Just take me anywhere else." Her vision blurred as she stared at the floor. Her lips trembled, and she couldn't hold it in anymore. 

 

Wanda needn't another word.

 

The only sign of their presence in Westview was the small droplets of tears on the floor that had yet to die away.





II. nightmares

 

She dealt with nightmares pretty much her entire life. 

 

Even before the missile wrecked her family's apartment and took away their childhood and their parents with greedy fingers in an unwavering hold, Wanda would experience them almost daily. In her yet childish mind, she'd a hard time grasping the concept and, most importantly, the meaning behind those awful dreams.

 

Sometimes it would be like a vision, a premonition where everything was bathed in red, the air burning with energy that she had yet to understand and she just couldn't stop hurting, screaming into the endless nothingness that surrounded her. Other times, however, she could see herself completely — utterly — alone. There seemed to be a lake and the light would reflect her crimson eyes glistening with unshed tears as well as burning rage. In her childishness, she didn't understand. Who was this woman? she'd wonder. 

 

Now, gasping for air after yet another nightmare, she knew. Deep in her bones, she knew that the dark shadow creeping silently in the back of her mind ever since she was but a little girl. 

 

Herself. 

 

So she screamed.

 

 

Agatha really had a hard time sleeping in this godforsaken cabin.

 

She'd been living with Wanda for weeks now, both of them compromising with the difficult task of tolerating the other's presence whilst trying to work together to stop some wannabe-interdimensional villain. She had this Strange guy to thank for that.

 

As such, one might think she's just annoyed by the fact that she can't get any rest in the wee hours of the night but really, that wasn't the case. The older woman just couldn't stand the heart shattering cries from the young witch, the screams, the whimpers. That's what kept her up at night. And that's what made her move quickly to Wanda's bedroom and crawl wordlessly beside her.

 

"Wanda? Angel, can you hear me?" she made sure not to touch her without her consent, as she noticed red shadows swirling dangerously around the other witch, "I'm right here."

 

Wanda felt something snap her out of her daze. Blue irises that seemed to glow in the darkness of her room stared worriedly into hers. It was Agatha. It was always Agatha.

 

"I-I don't know what happened, I was sleeping and then something just broke inside me and-" she sobbed as she shakily brought herself closer to the witch beside her, lean arms encasing her in a comforting, safe embrace. Hushed whispers made their way to her ears but she couldn't make sense of them. The smell of pine trees and lavender tickled her nose, causing her to bury her head deeper in the crook of Agatha's neck. It was soothing. 

 

Purple tendrils of magic gently danced on her skin, warm and welcoming. Slender fingers combed themselves through fiery hair, making her shiver when they scratched lightly behind her ear. She was practically in the older witch's lap when she heard her whisper, a breeze slithering its path through the thundering of her heart.

 

"Can I lay by your side?" 

 

"Please."

 

She felt as if she could breathe again and it wouldn't hurt. It wouldn't drown as it did before. The storm had finally passed.






III. la lune et belle



The moon was an important part in a witch's life. 

 

One might expect that the other elements, such as water, air, fire, were the great pillars of witchcraft and, for the most part, they were right. But the moon... It was an entirely different matter. Agatha reminisces the first time she worshipped it.

 

Her coven sisters were gathered in a circle, side by side, as Mother chanted deep, perfectly enunciated Latin prayers. Leaves rustled carelessly as the wind picked up its pace, the sound of it a reminder that nature was listening in closely.

 

The clearing chosen for this ritual was riddled by small patches of violets and roses, some of its thorns prickling Agatha's feet almost shyly, as if they were cautious of her. Her reverie, however, was harshly interrupted as thunder broke and lightning flashed before her eyes. There was not a cloud to be seen in the dark night sky. 

 

Suddenly, the young woman felt herself arching her back in a strange angle, the same movement mirrored submissively by her sisters. Her Mother stood in the middle, the moon reflecting eerily in the surface of her brooch. As if her body were not her own, as if her voice were echoed by hundreds more, Agatha sang. Her throat ached in effort, but she didn't stop. Her magic tried to claw its way out of her core but she didn't stop. She couldn't. The moon wouldn't let her.

 

Light footsteps made the ground she sat on vibrate with indiscreet energy, alerting her of Wanda's presence. The younger woman quietly positioned herself beside her and Agatha could feel the curiousness timidly tickling the back of her mind. This girl was a sneaky one.

 

"Hi," She started while fidgeting absentmindedly with her fingers – it was a habit she had yet to break, "What were you thinking about? I-I felt some weird… stuff through our connection that I couldn't make sense of," Wanda paused, the restlessness emanating from her forcing Agatha to clasp the woman's hands, bringing them to her lap while she gently drew patterns in the soft pale skin.

 

"I was daydreaming, dear. Sometimes my mind flies off to the strangest of places," A hoarse laugh erupted from the back of her throat, "The moon is beautiful today, isn't it?" Enraptured by its light, she didn't notice Wanda curling closer to her, nor did she notice her eyes glinting purple and wistful.

Their shoulders touched as the night breeze brought goosebumps down her spine. Wanda was entranced; by Agatha or the moon, she didn't know.

 

"Yes, it is," The young witch looked at her mentor intently, a small, almost unnoticeable smile pulling up at her lips, "It's lovely." She closed her eyes as Agatha cradled her in her arms. The earthy scent of pine lulled her into a peaceful state and she felt her heart loosen itself. Her hands stopped shaking.  Her breathing matched the one holding her close. 

 

Scarlet and purple magic could be seen intertwining, happily dancing around each other before disappearing completely. Neither woman seemed aware of it.

 

Up in the sky, the moon twinkled. 



interlude: ghosts

 

The bone-chilling screams permeated the air inside their cabin. Agatha was restless. Ever since they started searching the Darkhold for more information regarding other planes of existence, Wanda began to have more and more nightmares and hallucinations as time went on.

 

She'd be catatonic for hours on end with no sign of snapping out of it. At nighttime, Agatha would hear eerie footsteps echoing by the hall, the old wooden floor creaking as the girl — Gods, she hoped it was only the girl — creeped throughout the house. The woman wasn't sure what kind of scenario she'd find once she entered Wanda's room but at that moment, she didn't care. This had to stop.

 

Slowly, mindful of not scaring the other witch even further, she managed to sit beside her. The little one was writhing as if in pain, her eyes firmly closed as she mumbled incoherent words. But one stood out. Agatha felt her heart break into infinite little pieces.

 

"Pietro..." was the whimpered murmur of Wanda, the girl frantically opening her eyes and gazing in horror to the other side of the room. Agatha could not see the ghost of the late boy, but she could sense it. Sorrow seemed to fill the whole room, and the raven-haired witch did the only thing that could tether her younger woman's raging heart back to the land of the living: love.

 

"Shh, darling... I'm here. I'm here," she whispered. Taking the girl into her arms, Agatha softly started to sing a witch's lullaby, a song about the moon and the stars and the constellations.

Wanda slowly came to herself, even though tears streamed down her face and her eyes glistened with unshed ones, a scarlet gaze powerful enough to crumble every carefully constructed wall around Agatha's heart. 

 

"I see them too, you know. The ghosts," she whispered in the other's hair, grunting silently as the redhead tightened her hold of their embrace, "They live in us. It's inevitable. Each person on this planet has their own ghosts, their own fears and sorrows," she smiled slightly when she felt a small nod coming from the crook of her neck, "But what makes a difference is just that: you have to let them go, my love."

 

A sob could be heard. As painfully as it was, Wanda knew that, deep down, Agatha was right. Her heart could not become a haunted house.

 

But that didn't mean it doesn't hurt.



interlude 2: thunderstorms

 

The thunderstorm just wouldn't go away. Lightnings flashed throughout the dark night sky, illuminating Agatha's face as the wind blew her hair. The woman sat by herself on the small balcony of Wanda's cabin, a million thoughts running through her mind and an overwhelming sadness worming its way through her heart.

 

They had a fight. It was not like their light-hearted banters or even the heated arguments they were used to having but didn't last more than a day. No, this time there was fury. It was louder. Angrier. Heavier. Each word they said to one another hurt like hundreds of the nastiest curses and spells that were known to men. 

 

Sh breathed deeply. Far away sounds could be heard in the forest behind the small cabin, the rustling of leaves a soothing presence for her restless state of mind. Agatha knew in the depths of her soul that Wanda didn't mean it. She didn't mean to say those hurtful, cruel words that tore their way into her mind and found a home in her heart. No, surely that wasn't it.

 

Sighing, the witch made her way back to her bedroom with slumped shoulders. She hadn't looked up when Wanda stared regretfully at her, nor had she noticed the silent tears streaming down the young woman's face. With a muted thump, the door was closed. Wanda quietly padded the wooden floor with sock-clad feet, a purple pattern littered with golden stars chosen especially by Agatha. A lone tear met its end on the tip of it, just as the woman slowly sat by the other witch's door. She could hear the barely muffled whimpers from Agatha, knowing that the black-haired woman didn't bother to soundproof her bedroom. 

 

Wanda shivered as her hands touched the cold surface of mahogany. "Agatha? C-can I come in?" She whispered, not sure if she had the strength to do any more than that. Her breath hitched as a warm feeling slithered gently in the back of her mind. The door was opened by purple strings of magic, precise and measured. 

 

Maybe the thunderstorm would go away. It had to.



IV. home

 

Wanda gasped as her astral form suddenly made its way back to where it belonged. She and Agatha were training incessantly for the past few weeks since Doctor Strange teleported himself outside their cabin — yet again — and demanded their presence at the Sanctum Sanctorum. It appeared that the multiverse was on the brink of collapsing and — not that she'd say this out loud, for Agatha would vehemently disagree with her — that was entirely Wanda's fault. The Darkhold was not to be messed with but she couldn't give up on her children, her sweet boys. She wouldn't.

 

Therefore, the whole process of practicing magic whilst astral projecting was, at the very least, extremely tiring. It left her completely exhausted. Agatha always made sure she fed herself before and after doing such tremendous effort, for which she was very grateful. But right now, at this very moment, she just wanted to crawl up in bed and wake up in the next full moon. 

 

The black-haired witch stared worriedly at the young woman, frowning as she crossed the room in a few long strides. Quickly muttering an incantation to ensure that any remnants of the Darkhold's energy have been purged, Agatha finally got close enough to lay her hand gently across Wanda's forehead. The poor woman was feverish and shivered at the smallest touch. Slowly, she put the redhead on her lap, careful not to disturb the young one even more.

 

If she weren't so focused on the girl nuzzling her neck, the low, rough mumbling of the Scarlet Witch would escape her ears like a bird's song would be lost in the sounds of a forest.

 

"Agatha," Wanda's breath tickled the nape of neck, "Will you take me to bed?" was whispered as loudly as the morning breeze that greeted them daily.

 

"Oh, my love... you needn't ask."




V. I found

 

And I found love where it wasn't supposed to be

Right in front of me

Talk some sense to me

 

– 

 

The air in New York City felt heavy and polluted. Wanda missed her cabin in the woods and the birds chirping outside in the morning instead of cars speeding  through the streets as the sun rose. At least she had Agatha with her. That was the only comfort she got nowadays. 

 

They were at Sanctum Sanctorum — again — to help Stephen defeat some anti-sorcerer villain. Mordo, I think? She wasn't sure of the man's name. Not that it mattered anyways. 

 

It has been 6 months since the Westview anomaly and everything that happened in between. A lot of things had changed, and some for the better. For example, it turned out that Agatha was a really great company – after all the fighting and screaming sessions, at least – Wanda thought bitterly. She shook away the thought. Things were better now.

 

Surprisingly enough, they were able to find solace in each other. Some kind of companionship and mutual understanding that she wouldn't have thought it possible. Perhaps that was the reason she and Agatha were so alike: both had lost and found so much in life.

 

And as if the older witch had somehow sensed her presence in Wanda's mind, she'd appeared in the doorway.  The city lights that managed to pass through the stained glass of the hall reflected beautifully upon the woman's blue eyes. Agatha was smiling gently as she got closer and sat beside her, their shoulders touching. Wanda smiled back. 

 

A small, slightly calloused hand grasped hers. Blue met green even though darkness made it difficult to see. The night was clear and a few, lonely stars could be seen if sought enough. black, long strands of hair framed Agatha's face like a curtain as she whispered,

 

"Is everything okay?" The distinct scent of lavender and pine washed over Wanda as though she were walking through their garden back home, "You're kinda quiet today, love." 

 

The redhead could feel her heart plummeting in her chest as she gazed at her companion. There was so much affection and something else swimming warmly in those eyes. She put an arm around the brunette's shoulders, pulling her closer. Hair tickled her nose and. She closed her eyes. Breathed in. Out. Her mind calmed down and her fears eased as Agatha buried her head into her sweater-clad chest.

 

"Everything is fine," Agatha drew random patterns onto her palm, her hand seemingly turning into a canvas, "I just have a lot in my mind right now." She felt the older witch tightening their embrace. 

 

Soft fingertips caressed her cheek tenderly. Endless oceans of blue stared up at her silently, knowingly. Agatha always seemed to know what Wanda was feeling. A thumb brushed her lower lip reverently. A beat passed.

 

Her breath hitched. 

 

The world seemed to stop rotating on its axis. Agatha leaned in first – of course she did.

 

There was no rush as their lips met. It was a chaste kiss. Agatha kissed her calmly and sweetly, like a hummingbird would kiss a flower. Her arms found the woman's waist and squeezed it gently. She smiled through the kiss.

 

For all the chaos and madness that might live inside of her, Wanda had never felt so at peace before. 

 

They separated, but not completely. Wanda still had her eyes closed as the other witch hugged her tightly. There was a twinkle in Agatha's now purple irises. She brought her closer until their foreheads touched.

 

"Talk to me, then?"

 

Wanda did.




VI. love language 

 

It is known that love has many ways to be expressed and communicated. Agatha is perfectly aware of this. Of course she is; someone that had lived as long as she did and experienced life as much as she had surely got some knowledge about matters of the heart.

 

Be it by physical touch – a hand on the small of Wanda's back, a hug that lasts longer than necessary or even a timid kiss on the corner of her mouth – or words of affirmation – "You're such a good girl, darling..." –, Agatha viewed herself as educated when it came to love. 

 

But Wanda made it harder for her. Gods, how much harder it was. And that was all because of the girl's obliviousness. No matter how many times Agatha looked a little too long to her lips, held her hands with utmost care as she fiddled with her fingers when she was anxious or made her favorite cherry cake on lazy sunday mornings, the other woman just couldn't get the hint.

 

So, as much as she wouldn't like to admit, Agatha really had a bad time expressing her feelings through words. It was not because of her sharp wit, quick tongue or even her heart skipping several beats as she glanced longingly at Wanda; no, that was not it. Perhaps it was the fact that, despite her being well-read and knowing of all facets of love, there were no words to describe how deeply, hopelessly in love she was. And it was killing her.

 

She still remembered their kiss back in New York. The way Wanda held her as if she were a precious, fragile flower, unique in the world and made only for her to hold. Agatha could not forget the hours they spent just talking and opening up to each other, their fears and insecurities forgotten amongst  gentle touches and kind words. But here she was, willing to throw it all away by being a coward.

 

Maybe that's why she found herself in her current predicament.

 

"You've been acting strange lately," Wanda commented quietly as they set the table for breakfast, "Distant, closed off… I-Is something the matter?" Her voice broke slightly, a small sad sound at the back of her throat. Agatha finally lifted her head up to look at the red-headed woman. Birds chirped outside happily, unaware of the amount of tension and something else rolling in waves from the small kitchen. 

 

"I don't know what you're talking about, toots. I'm just peachy!" Her smile felt strained, "You don't have to worry about me," She finished with false tranquility, her heart squeezing painfully in her chest at the sight of Wanda's lips trembling.

 

"Don't lie to me, Agatha. I can see you distancing yourself from me every day, hell, you barely even t-talk to me anymore!" The younger woman bit out tearfully, a shaky finger pointing accusingly to the older witch's chest, "So don't lie to me. Not again." 

 

It stung.

 

Agatha knew she deserved it. She also knew that she couldn't keep going on like this. It was hurting Wanda and she was so focused on brooding around the cabin that she didn't even notice the damage. You're a fucking idiot, Agatha , a voice said angrily at the back of her mind. She agreed with it.

 

She couldn't bear the thought of losing Wanda because of her inability – or was it fear? – to express her feelings into words. Goddamn it, she was hurting the woman she was in love with! 

 

What a mess she's made. 

 

Suddenly, a sniffle snapped her out of her reverie. Wanda gazed at her with pained green eyes, tears streaming fat and thick down her face. Disappointment and sorrow emanated from her as her voice trembled, "You know what? Forget I said anything. You clearly don't owe me any explanation and-"

 

"I'm in love with you!" Agatha blurted out. Time seemed to stand still. Her breath hitched as she became aware of what she said. Wanda had her mouth open in a perfect 'o' shape while she tried to make sense of what she just heard.

 

"What?"

 

"I'm in love with you, Wanda!" The woman's voice was a little more firm this time, but she knew Wanda could sense the raging t-thump, t-thump, t-thump of her heart. Clammy hands buried themselves in her hair as she continued on, "I can't stop thinking about you, I can't stop caring about you, I can't stop dreaming about you and it is always you, Wanda! It has always been you, even when it wasn't," Her voice was nothing but a broken whisper, "I'm sorry, I'm so sorry-"

 

Lips as soft as the rose petals of their garden gently landed in hers. Strong arms looped her waist while a warm tongue made its way hotly into her mouth. Agatha slowly ran her fingers into Wanda's hair as they kissed, making the woman moan when nails scratched her scalp lightly. The tears cascading down their cheeks mingled in the kiss. 

 

Agatha smiled dazedly as they parted. Wanda tasted of salt and mint, fresh like spring rain and warm like the sunrise they watched every day. Her heart made pirouettes as the other woman caressed her cheek tenderly, her lips curling into a relieved smile and that adorable nose scrunch Agatha loved making itself known.  

 

"I'm in love with you too." was her whispered response.

 

Agatha came to a conclusion: communication really was key when it came to love.



VII. bad day

 

Wanda was really having a bad day. 

 

It all started when they were training defensive spells. Agatha worried greatly about Wanda's ability to defend herself, despite her being "The Scarlet Witch”. Sure, strength and raw power were important in many, many levels, but knowledge was what did the trick. Quite literally, at times. Therefore, she looked forward to being trained by her mentor, her… friend, if she could call her that.

 

Wanda wasn’t completely sure what kind of relationship they had. One day she was sitting by herself on her porch, sipping on some herbal tea she managed to brew and feeling the crisp wind of the autumn morning blowing her hair, when suddenly - suddenly Agatha was just there . All smirks and knowing eyes, barely hidden anger beneath ocean blue irises and sharp edges on her words. They fought a lot. And she cried a lot too - nothing out of the ordinary.

 

However, a mutual understanding started to bloom between them. Wanda still felt extremely guilty of entrapping the older witch in her own mind and, after putting up a little fight, she realized she wanted, nay, needed Agatha's guidance if she wanted to find her kids. And Agatha? Well, she tried to rub this fact on her face. Every. Single. Day. It was tiring and annoying and sometimes made her wonder if she did the right thing, bonding herself to this unnerving woman. It exhausted her.

 

Until it didn’t .

 

Snarky remarks that used to make her blood boil now make her smile and give in to exasperated laughter and gentle banter. Cautious stares tinged with resentment now turned into tender glances and fluttering heartbeats when her companion wasn’t looking, totally immersed in whatever witchy thing she was doing. If Wanda were to pinpoint the exact moment things have changed between them, she wouldn’t know the answer. Perhaps, if she had to guess, it would have been the moment Agatha - Agnes - knocked on her door and entered not only her made up, dream house but her life too. everything changed after she met the purple witch. And that was okay by her. 

 

But good god, her head was pounding painfully now. Did Wanda already say how hard and demanding training with Agatha could be? she sighed deeply. The other woman was finishing closing the Darkhold - she shuddered as she remembered its sentient energy - and Wanda just wanted to lay down on the floor for a little while and sleep. Without even noticing, the redhead exchanged the Scarlet Witch attire she was wearing for a red, comfy pajamas, making her way to the sofa. Slowly lowering herself and laying head up on the cushiony surface, Wanda closed her eyes. 

 

The sun was setting down and the forest behind the small cabin was quiet, if not for the buzzing of little bugs and the chirping of birds. If opened, green orbs would see the adoring look plastered on agatha’s face. The raven-haired woman silently walked through the small area of the living room, conjuring a blanket. She covered the sleeping woman up and gently ran her fingers through auburn hair. a loving smile spread across her face. Not that she would ever admit it, but she knew she was getting soft. And that was perfectly fine by her.

 

As she started to pull away, a warm hand grasped her wrist. Wanda gazed sleepily at her, but there was something else in her eyes. They seemed to smile just as her lips were. Agatha smiled back. 

 

“Come lay with me?” The younger woman whispered. The hand that was keeping her in place softly intertwined with hers, electricity rushing through her arm at the contact. Agatha looked down into green fields painted with the smallest drops of hazel. She let herself be pulled down and sat on the edge of the sofa.

 

"I would love to, darling, but I don't think the couch would be too pleased," The older witch teasingly replied. Wanda rolled her eyes.

 

"It's not like we can't fix it, right?" With a flick of her wrist, what was once a couch turned into a comfortable looking, queen-sized bed. 

 

In the middle of the living room.

 

A snort erupted from agatha's throat. Full blown laughter soon could be heard as she settled down next to her apprentice, dark strands of hair mingling with fiery ones on the pillows. They faced each other as it died down. Wanda timidly sought out her hand, holding it closely to her chest. Agatha felt her heart flutter as she too got closer to the other woman, green eyes following her every movement.

 

"You should rest, dear…" She murmured, words filled with tenderness she didn't know she was capable of. Surprising both herself and Wanda, the younger witch closed the gap between them as she buried her head in Agatha's neck, lean arms looping snuggly around the woman's waist.

 

Agatha nothing said. Embracing her thoroughly, she started singing a lullaby from her time as a child. Wanda felt sleep coming yet again as the whispered melody penetrated her ears and engulfed her heart in warmth. She smiled against her neck before closing her eyes once again. 

 

Maybe today wasn't so bad after all.



VIII. NFWMB

 

Wanda was fury incarnate

 

A snarl twisted her face as she stalked impossibly fast through their garden. This creature lifted her girlfriend by the neck, her limbs wildly moving around while her hands tried to break iron grip keeping her from breathing. Something was thwarting her magic, its hold rendering the older witch completely powerless. 

 

Wanda feels herself closing her eyes, a fraction of a second ticking by as crimson energy transformed her into the Scarlet Witch. Her irises burned red and her hands, black with power, moved in a complicated motion. Time stopped. The demon-like humanoid hadn't seen it coming.

 

Dark bursts of magic engulfed the abomination, sentient enough to gently caress a pale cheek before wrapping itself tightly around the creature's neck. Wanda tilted her head at it after she carried the limp form of her girlfriend back inside the cabin. Time stopped but she could still see the fear and hatred swirling dangerously in its black eyes. It was like glancing into the abyss. It stared right at her. She stared back.

 

Nothing dared to move as the Scarlet Witch creeped quickly to the demon. Time and space were nothing but submissive to their Mistress; something finally snapped inside her: the animal was unleashed. Snaking her hand around the creature's throat, her voice sounded like pure madness as she lifted it in the air.

 

"Nothing fucks with my baby." 

 

The monster ceased to exist. All that was left of it was its blood dripping hotly – tick, tick, tick – down Wanda's hands. She didn't bother with it. She had her lover to tend to.



IX. you've really got a hold on me

 

I don't like you

But I love you

Seems that I'm always

Thinking of you

Oh, oh, oh

 

Wanda gently swayed to the music as the Beatles resonated throughout the living room. With an easy smile on her face and her eyes closed, she felt her mind calm down and the weight on her shoulders fall away. Twirling on her feet and bobbing her hips softly from side to side, she didn't notice the other presence in the room.

 

Agatha couldn't keep her eyes away. The low glow of the lampshade illuminated Wanda's face perfectly, highlighting every little freckle spread across her cheeks. Her hair fell down her back in waves, auburn and fiery like melting copper. Her hands moved in rhythmic motions, as if they were dancing on their own accord. The older witch was entranced.

 

Maybe that was the reason for why she was dancing too.

 

You do me wrong now

My love is strong now

You've really got a hold on me

(You really got a hold on me)

You really got a hold on me

(You really got a hold on me)

 

Warm fingers began to lightly grip her waist, eliciting a shiver down her spine. Turning around, she found a loving gaze and a tender smile being directed at her. Wrapping her arms around Agatha's neck, she started to sing along, whispering the lyrics in the other's ear, her lover bringing her closer, not once stopping their dance. 

 

Running her fingers through soft black hair, Wanda buried her face in the crook of Agatha's neck, the earthy lavender scent soothing whatever worry that still managed to rest in her mind. She dropped a featherlight just beneath her ear. The grip on her waist tightened.

 

Baby

I don't want you

But I need you

 

Pulling away slightly, Agatha lifted a hand to caress the soft skin of her girlfriend's cheek, touching her bottom lip with the adoration a hummingbird would touch a flower. Wanda could only gaze back into the deep oceans of her lover's eyes.

 

Don't want to kiss you

But I need to

Oh, oh, oh

 

Fingers tangled into red hair. Crimson wisps of magic encased the couple as the song continued playing, their bodies flushed together in a perfect mix of scarlet and lilac and, finally,

 

They kissed.