Taught by a Witch | Wanda Maximoff x Female reader

Pocket Knife Engravings

When the night had fallen and the moon returned to light up the sky, the small house returned to a calm quietness. Both girls each finding a sense of comfort as they sat in the silence.

Wanda had made herself comfortable on the couch, leaning back against the arm of the sofa with her legs crossed as she cradled a small book in her hands.

Whereas Y/n had found herself propped up by the door, flipping around a pocket knife. Her back stretched tall against the wall as she sat on the floor, dozing off while her eyes focused on the knife. Her bottom lip was taken between her teeth as she focused; her brows furrowed as she flipped the handle of the blade between her fingers.

At some point, when the slight chill of the evening has surrounded the quiet house and seeped through the walls, Wanda had conjured up a small fire to keep the two of them warm. They stayed separate for the most part after the fire had been lit. It wasn't uncomfortable though, not like it had been before. This was just a quiet, comfortable evening that both girls had desperately needed.

However, the more silence that settled, and the night grew on, the more Y/n's thoughts became louder inside her head. She was getting too attached... in too deep with the witch that sat only a few feet from her. The more she sat with her thoughts, replaying the events from the afternoon, the more she closed herself off. Just as she had grown so accustomed to doing.

"Shit-" Y/n's breath hitched in a slight gasp as her finger slipped, almost leaving the knife to slice into her palm.

Wanda's head immediately lifted from her book to look at the girl who sat on the floor. "You okay?" Wanda watched as the girl flipped the blade back down into the handle. 

"Yeah, just slipped." Y/n examined the knife, not meeting Wanda's eyes as she ran her finger across the spine.

Wanda watched as Y/n focused on the small weapon. It was old, not like the ones she had seen Y/n carry before. This one was worn, slightly weathered with a beat-up wooden handle. Wanda examined the way her face softened and her expression dropped as her finger stopped over a spot on the handle. She circled the spot with her thumb, tracing over some sort of mark against the wood. That's when Wanda saw the small engraving of a sword beside the number 'four' etched into the handle. 'S.W.O.R.D.' She thought, connecting the dots as she clenched her teeth. However, the more she examined it, the more she realized she may have had it all wrong. The sword against the knife was just that, a sword. A small, scribbled-down weapon next to a just as shakily etched random number. What Wanda was missing, was that it wasn't random. Not at all. Yet somehow, she seemed to know that.

"What does it mean?" Wanda's voice was low as she broke the silence.

"What?" Y/n's attention was caught from her hands.

"The symbol," she clarified.

Y/n followed Wanda's eyes to what she was referring to. She looked down to where her hand rested in her lap, tracing back over the small carving on her knife, she took in a breath.

"My friends," she began. "Back home, we uh..." She stumbled over her words slightly, searching for what to say. Closing her fingers around the small weapon, she let out a sigh. "Catain Monica Rambeau. My partner," she smiled. "I tell you, that girl was born to lead. Born to help save the world," she exaggerated with a short laugh. "She will always fight for what is right. Even when everyone seems to be against her, she'll never go out without a fight. And a hell of a fight at that." 

"She came in with you..." Wanda realized, remembering the agent who had first entered Westview beside Y/n.

"Geraldine! That's right! God, after we got out, I called her 'Geraldine' every moment I could. She absolutely hated it. Though, she did try and keep those blue hoops she wore during the 70s episode, even though she'll never admit that she loved them." Y/n laughed at the memory.