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1-800-wakanda · 2 years

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𝐚𝐧𝐨𝐭𝐡𝐞𝐫 𝐫𝐞𝐚𝐥𝐢𝐭𝐲 | part three

summary: on the anniversary of the day you dread, an unexpected visitor shows up at your home to console you.

word count: 1108

warnings: death of loved ones, implied depression

authors note: I'm not going to lie, I have no idea what happened. I started writing this immediately after I published the second part and then just left tumblr completely. i didn’t actually finish this until yesterday when i was writing on my computer instead of listening to my English lecture. + also this might be one of the saddest things I have ever written + + I just realized I have 80 followers!!! Thank you all so much!!

It's been a year since your parents passed, so it goes without saying that today wasn't the greatest for you. Despite the several calls and texts you've received by relatives giving you their condolences, you were alone. You didn't mind though, you wanted to be alone right now. Even if you knew how unhealthy it was.

So, here you are, lying in bed in your gloomy apartment, contemplating what has come of your life. You couldn't believe it had been a year; it only felt like a couple of days. You definitely remembered it like it was a couple days ago. The fleeting memory of receiving the news of their deaths replayed in your mind daily, like your conscience wouldn't let you forget it, no matter how hard you tried.

Soon enough, an endless cloud of sadness washed over you, and you found it increasingly difficult to get out of bed every day. You missed them terribly, and it didn't help that the guilt of their deaths was eating away at you.

The way you saw it, it was your fault.

After receiving an unexpected promotion at work, you'd decided it was time to take a much needed vacation. You'd been out of the country a couple of times for college, but it was always for academic reasons; but now you were going to enjoy yourself. And you did. In fact, it was the best time of your life.

But unfortunately for you, all good things have to come to an end.

The night you landed you asked your parents to meet you at the airport to pick you up but you had forgotten to tell them that your flight had been delayed and that you would be landing later than you had told them. According to the police, it was a robbery gone horribly wrong and both of your parents were killed on the scene.

So now here you are a year later, trying to drown out your sorrows by sleeping all day.

You rolled to your side and took your phone from your nightstand to check the time.

The brightness of the screen nearly blinded you, but you made out "10:04 AM."

So you hadn't slept all day. Great.

You were contemplating on going back to sleep and ignoring reality for the rest of the day but as soon as you started to drift off to sleep, a soft knock at the door woke you back up.

You wanted to ignore it but when the knock came again you knew that the person behind the door wouldn't go away. So with a groan, you roll out of bed and make your way towards your front door.

Too tired to look through the peephole to to see who was behind the door, you figured if it was a murderer you would just want to get it over with, you unlocked it and pulled it open, surprised to see the familiar face you were met with.

"Wanda?" You say, completely flabbergasted.

However, the brunette woman smiled. "Hey, Y/n"

You quickly straightened your slouchy posture and attempted to appear as unbothered as possible. "Hey, Wanda. What are you doing here?"'

Wanda's gaze briefly shifted to the floor before returning to yours. "Well, I dropped my boys off at school a little while ago and I remembered you telling me when anniversary of your parents passing was so I wanted to stop by and see how you were doing"

Despite your friendly relationship with Wanda, this still caught you off guard.

You and the brunette woman had grown close in the past year. You were both dealing with grief when you joined the support group last year. However, after one particular session of having to share your experiences with each other, you and Wanda quickly found comfort in each other. Gradually, you noticed that Wanda was opening up more, and that dark cloud that you knew was looming over her began to lift.

While you were overjoyed for her, you couldn't say the same for yourself.....even now.

Even though you knew she knew about your parents, the fact that she remembered warmed your heart.

"Oh," You blankly respond to Wanda's consideration, unsure of what to say. It takes you a second moment before you can muster up a "Thank you."

Wanda nods, "Of course." She fumbles with her fingers for a second and if you weren't solemnly focused on her you would've missed it. "May I come in?"

You simply take a step back and open the door wider to let her in. She takes this gesture as a 'yes' and steps inside. You close and lock the door behind her before throwing on the best smile you could conjure up.

"Thank you for coming to check on me, really, but I'm fine" You tell her, trying to lighten the mood. But by the way she inspected your living room and looked back at you, you could tell she didn't believe you.

"What?" You chuckled nervously as she stared at you, worried that she could see through the facade you put up.

And she did.

Her stare towards you softened, as though she could see the pain that you were trying to hide behind your eyes, and spoke, her voice soft; "Y/n...."

"Hmm?" You ask, trying to keep yourself from crying.

“Y/n, I know you’re not okay” She tells you, gently placing her hand on your arm like she wanted to talk all of your pain away with a simple touch. “And that’s okay. You don’t have to hide from me”

The thought of saying something to deceive her of your burgeoning grief crossed your mind but instead you stayed silent. A single tear slips down your cheek and that lets Wanda know everything she needed to know.

Not knowing how you’d take it, but fearful that you were going to break down, Wanda engulfs you into a hug. Her warm body heat was twisted with your cold one as you hugged her back, continuing to cry into her shoulder. She pets the back of your head, reassuring you that she’s here and that you don’t have to go through this alone.

Not anymore.

In that moment, you wished that, that hug would last forever. And you wish that even more now.

“Wanda…” You mutter as your eyes fluttered open. For a moment, you're at peace, feeling the woman you long to see again still in your mind. But when you realize where you are, the feeling fades.

Instead it’s replaced with fear. Fear of being trapped with Wanda.

But not your Wanda.

The Scarlet Witch.

taglist - @coollemonsaresour + @thelittlewolfofaretuza

#wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x y/n #dark!wanda maximoff #dark!wanda x reader #dr strange in the multiverse of madness #fanfic series #838 Wanda #838 Wanda x reader

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aparticularbandit · 9 months

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Kiss in the Rain

Summary: Ash may have asked Agnes to cross the multiverse with her, but Agnes refuses to believe there's anything romantic in that question. No one really wants her, after all.

Part of The Finding Family Omnibus.

Agnes Bohner/Wanda Maximoff (Earth-838)

Rating: T.

AO3

She was never meant to stay here forever.

Agnes remembers the first time Ash asked in that early morning quiet reserved just for the two of them, remembers the sharp scent of ginger in her tea, the equally sharp tang of it on her tongue, remembers Ash stirring her tea with a silver spoon and saying, “I think I might leave soon,” before glancing up briefly through her lashes and asking, “Would you like to join me?”

It’s not a request to run away with her by any means, but Agnes grew up on romance stories and soap operas. She can read between the lines. (She tells herself not to because that’s what screwed her over with Wanda – with Scarlet – but she can’t help it. For all that her life might look like nothing but one trouble after another to an outsider, Agnes’s best quality is positivity. Her worst is mistaken hope.)

“Where would we go?” Agnes asks while her heart warms and constricts. “Not that…not that I mind, of course, dear.” Her gaze drops to her tea, focuses on the warm amber color within, the way it ripples as her hands so slightly shake.

Ash takes a sip of her tea. “I haven’t decided yet.” She pauses. “Somewhere far away.”

When her words trail away, Agnes sneaks a glance of her. Ash’s gaze has moved away from her, out the nearest window, full of longing. The thick scar across her forehead gleams white in the morning sunlight. It’s alluring. “What about Scarlet?” she asks, trying to keep her voice from trembling. “What about Agatha?”

What about our family? is what she should be asking, but…but….

Ash snorts and turns back to Agnes, resting her head in her free hand. “I think they’re quite full of themselves, don’t you?”

Of course, when Ash brought up traveling to another universe, Agnes had her doubts.

“What if we want to come back?” she’d asked. “What if we want to visit all of the lovelies still here?”

Ash just tilted her head to one side and looked at Agnes with deep green eyes that might as well have been peering into her soul. “Do you think you’ll want to come back, Agnes?”

Even now, Agnes hasn’t told Ash everything that happened with Agatha and Scarlet, but sometimes…sometimes it feels like she still knows, somehow. It felt like it then, too; she remembers wondering if the others told her. It soured her against them even more; that sort of thing should stay between them. It shouldn’t—

“No,” Agnes found herself saying, the softest sort of admission she’s ever made before, one that she wouldn’t be making at all, even to herself, if she didn’t have to consider the possibility. “I don’t think I will.”

Over another cup of tea while everyone slept, Ash convinced her to live together in the new universe. “At least at first,” she said with that disarming gentle lift of one corner of her lips. “I think it will help the boys have some sense of normalcy.”

“Of course, dear.” Agnes nodded, thinking nothing of it. “We need to consider the boys. I’ll stay as long as you like.”

Ash lifted her cup of tea between both hands and blew gently across its top. “Us, too,” she murmured as the cup warmed her hands. “I think it will be nice for us, too.”

She didn’t intend to do so, but Agnes startled regardless. When she looked up, she found that Ash was simply taking another sip of her tea, as though what she’d said didn’t mean much of anything at all. So Agnes stilled her rapidly beating heart with a calming breath in – the scent of orange from her tea stirring in the air – and said, “Yes.” She swallowed and nodded once. “It…it would be nice to…to not have to start over all on our own, wouldn’t it, dear?” A nervous chuckle escaped her. “Of…of course, you would never be on your own, since you have your boys, but….”

“Mmhm.”

When Ash smiled around the lip of her teacup, Agnes didn’t catch it. Perhaps it’s better that she didn’t.

The only problem with this new universe – and Agnes didn’t even consider it a problem, she still doesn’t – was how many people looked at her sometimes as though they know her, as though she did something horrible to them. It happened so often in those first few days that the boys picked up on it. Even Tommy started giving her a look of disgust.

Ash just took her hand, gave it a gentle squeeze, and said, “Maybe it’s time that we give somewhere else a try.”

After the third new city in a month, Agnes suggested, gently, that maybe, maybe it would be better for the boys if they went their separate ways. “I can take care of myself, hon,” she’d said over their morning cup of tea. “You don’t have to worry about me.”

“But who will I drink tea with?” Ash asked, her deep green eyes wide with shock. Before Agnes could suggest that she might find someone new to drink tea with (or that, perhaps, Agnes didn’t need to live with her to drink tea with her), she continued, “Who would I start my days with?”

Agnes’s cheeks flushed bright, and she dropped her gaze. “It was only for a little while,” she murmured, staring at her hands and clasping them together to give her some sort of stillness. “It was only until we got used to this new world, wasn’t it, hon? I was never meant to stay here.”

With you.

“I’m not kicking you to the curb, Agnes.”

And that was that.

Agnes has never been very good at conflict, and she’s even less good at it when the conflict is just as much within herself. She wanted to stay with Ash – she still does – and at least then, Ash gave her a good reason to stay. Why would she ever fight against that? She wouldn’t. She didn’t.

But….

It was another few months before they found somewhere the people didn’t seem to know Agnes, and it was another few months beyond that where they settled in and became normal parts of the town, and it was another few months beyond that before Tommy looked at Agnes, gave her that same disgusted look he’d learned from the people who acted like they knew her, and said where his mother could not hear him, “When are you gonna leave?”

“I…I…um….”

“Mom doesn’t even like you, you know.” Tommy looked over Agnes in a way that reminded her of the way Ralph used to look at her, and any of her objections disappeared in a moment. “She just lets you stay here because you’re so pathetic.” He glared at her. “Why don’t you go live your own life, huh?”

Agnes just stood there while Tommy walked off, breathing heavy. Over the next several days, she thought of Ralph, who often spat words at her in just the same blunt, certain tone, and of Agatha, who’d hugged her and kissed her when they first truly met (other than the break-in, which Agnes tends to not think about), but who’d left her alone when she’d most needed someone, and even more importantly of Scarlet – of Wanda – who was the last person who brought her from her normal life all the way out into the middle of nowhere, who’d seemed like she’d wanted her there, who’d encouraged her affections, and who’d, in the end, only wanted her because—

Maybe, for once, she should listen to the people who are telling her the truth.

Maybe she should leave.

She was never meant to stay here forever.

Agnes knows that.

But knowing that doesn’t make it any easier when she finally starts to pack up her bags, pack up the life she’d built here in this little house with Ash, and pack up the self she’d slowly been starting to become.

Ash pretends that she doesn’t understand. She pretends that she wants Agnes to stay, but Agnes knows the truth. Ash is just being nice. She’s just putting up with Agnes because she’d dragged her into this new universe with her and it’s taking longer to feel good here. She feels responsible, but she didn’t ever mean for Agnes to stay this long.

For once, finally, Agnes understands that. There’s a lot of things people don’t know how to say, especially if they’re uncomfortable. She does that all the time! So the kindest, nicest thing she can do for Ash is to leave and not make her have to say anything at all. So she gives Ash a smile and forces herself not to cry and says, “I just thought it was time I got out of your hair, dear. That’s all.”

“Agnes—”

“The boys are settled, dear.” Agnes fiddles with the new luggage set she just bought. It’s shiny and bright and the softest shades of rose and lavender she’s ever seen on anything. It’s perfect. It’s beautiful. She just regrets that she doesn’t have another reason to use it. “We’re settled. We know people, and you know people, and you don’t need to put up with dear old Agnes for another moment.”

“I never thought I was putting up with—”

Agnes doesn’t look up. That makes it easier. “You’ll find someone else for tea, dear. Someone better to spend your mornings with.” She smiles, thinking of the kindness she is giving by not taking up anymore of Ash’s time. “You don’t need to worry about me anymore,” she says, turning just enough to place a hand on Ash’s shoulder. “You’ll be fine, hon. I’ll be fine.”

You’ll be happier without me.

“Is that really what you want, Nessie?” Ash looks up then, eyes of steel meeting Agnes’s much softer gaze. “You really want to leave?”

No. No, she doesn’t want to leave. No, she wants to stay here forever and start her mornings with Ash and drink tea with her for always. But that’s…that’s selfish, to want those things, if it means that Ash is unhappy, to force her wants to overpower Ash’s needs just because Ash, like her, doesn’t know how to tell her to do otherwise. She won’t do to Ash what so many other people have done to her. She won’t.

So she lies.

Or…she tries to lie, but she can’t get the words to come out.

Instead, she says, “We’ll talk tomorrow, hon, if you…if you want,” and forces herself to leave.

The rain drenches her hair. Flattens it.

Her luggage gets caught in the mud.

She can’t tell if it’s the rain or her own tears that are ruining her make-up. (Honestly, sometimes she thinks she should stop wearing it at all, given how often she cries. But she was going to be good today. The rain just…just screwed everything up.)

Agnes tugs on her luggage a little harder. “C’mon, hon.” She turns, grabs the handle with both hands, and gives it a rough tug. “We’ve got to go—”

The luggage jolts out of the mud. Agnes loses her grip, stumbles backward, and falls into the mud. She forces herself to stand, rubs her eyes with the back of one hand, grabs the handle again, and starts away.

It doesn’t matter that she’s already crying. It doesn’t matter that she’s covered in mud. She’s going—

“Nessie.”

No. Agnes refuses to listen. This isn’t like the romance movies or the books or the soap operas. It’s nothing like that. She’s not going to make Ash put up with her anymore. She’s not going to make anyone put up with her anymore. She’s going to leave before—

Ash grabs her shoulder a little too hard and turns her to face her, those eyes like steel staring down at her.

For a moment, all Agnes can see is Ralph, who often grabbed her the same way, and she flinches, winces, and tears herself out of Ash’s grip. “Don’t,” she whines, throat tight, even though there’s something comforting in the gesture, something familiar, and something in her longs for the rough touch as a result, leans toward it.

But Ash’s face falls. “Sorry, sorry, I didn’t mean to—” She takes a deep breath, the water soaking her, now, too, and she tries to push her hair back but it falls just as flat as Agnes’s has. “You didn’t say yes,” she says, near breathless, and meets Agnes’s eyes again, searching them. “If you don’t want to go, then don’t.”

Agnes shakes her head. “Please don’t make me stay when you don’t want me,” she says, finally, her voice soft, quiet. “I can’t…I can’t live through that again, Ash. Even if…even if you’re trying to be nice, please don’t…don’t.” She presses her lips together, shakes her head again. “I can’t. I can’t live through that again, and—”

Ash kisses her.

It’s a rough sort of thing, mismatched, their teeth knocking together, not quite fitting, but not quite uncomfortable either. It’s not the way kissing in the rain is supposed to be, if the movies and books and things told Agnes anything, but maybe she should quit expecting life to line up with television shows because she’s not in one.

(Not anymore.)

Also, in television shows, Agnes would be a lot less confused. “What are….” She wipes her lips with the back of her hand. “What are you doing, hon? You don’t have to—”

“Nessie, you think I’d kiss you just because I had some misguided sense of duty to you?” Ash searches her eyes. “Is that easier to believe than that I actually want you here?”

Agnes grapples with that for a moment before saying, “Yes.” She tries not to think it, tries not to say it, but she does anyway. “No one ever wants me, hon. Not really. They just pretend.” She chuckles, then, and thinks of Ralph. “Some of them don’t even pretend very well.”

“Well, I’m not pretending.” Ash sighs and looks back to the house. “Now come back inside. It’s cold out here, and you’re being ridiculous.” She shivers as though to prove her point.

Right now, Agnes just stares at Ash in disbelief, still grappling with everything, still unsure. “Wait,” she says, hesitantly.

Ash turns to her with one brow raised. “For what?”

“Can we…can we try that again, hon?” Agnes asks, unable to meet Ash’s eyes. “The…the kiss, I mean. Now that we’re both…now that we know what we’re both doing.” She runs her hand through her hair and then looks up, hopeful. When she sees Ash’s smile, she takes that as a quiet permission and kisses her.

It’s better this time, the kiss. It feels good. Right. And the slightest hum of approval when she tugs Ash’s bottom lip with her teeth sends a warm shiver down her spine. “I…I suppose you do want me, then, don’t you, dear?” Agnes purrs in a way that she hasn’t in over a year, even as she questions, as she feels unsure.

“Imagine,” Ash murmurs, staring at Agnes’s lips, “we could have been doing this for the past seven months instead of just drinking tea.”

Agnes’s eyes widen. “I like tea. You don’t want—”

Ash hushes her with another kiss.

(They wake up the next morning shaking, feverish, and more than a little snot-nosed.

“Next time,” Ash moans, “we don’t kiss in the rain and somebody will listen when I say we should go inside.” Agnes just rolls over and hides her head in her pillow.)

#bandit fic #december banditnanza 2023 fic #kiss in the rain #finding family with wanda and america #mcu #wanda maximoff #scarlet witch #wanda maximoff 838 #838!wanda maximoff #agnes bohner #tommy shepherd #wandavision #agnes bohner x wanda maximoff #agnes bohner x 838!wanda maximoff #wanda maximoff x agnes bohner #838!wanda maximoff x agnes bohner #AGNES IS HER OWN CHARACTER HERE SHE IS NOT AGATHA!#because poor baby also should have good things and happiness!!

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