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springdandelixn · 1 year

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I've chosen you to play Would You Rather....

Boss!Vision giving you your performance review

Professor!Jorah keeping you after class for tutoring

You know me, I can never choose one but here's the first Haha

A Sweet Surprise

Warnings: noncon and somnophilia undertones, implied use of drugs, involvements of alcohol, plus sexy blue eyes that like to stare. Story is dark so please heed the warnings.

Your comments are welcomed, as always. And I hope you enjoy! 💛

p.s. It got longer than expected haha and Vision’s human name is Victor Shade.

Click. Clack. Click. Clack.

Your fingers fumble with the hem of your skirt as your eyes follow the motions of the metallic orbs atop Mr. Shade’s desk. Back and forth, they swing, and the sound they make, along with the clinking of the keyboard, only adds to the tension that slowly builds within rather than calm you down, which you assumed it should be doing.

Six months have passed by in a blur, consisting of endless data entries and the exchange of emails and phone calls from the company’s business partners. And now, here you sit in front of your boss, after working hours, waiting for his feedback on the performance evaluation they’ve conducted on you.

You know to yourself that you’ve done all they’ve asked. You believe yourself to be a diligent employee, an obedient one. Always grateful for the opportunity they have given you despite having no experience in the administrative field and never being one to complain of the workload dropped on your shoulders.

After almost a year of slaving yourself away in retail, you desperately needed a new job and out of all the companies you applied for, Crimson Travel Insurance was the one who responded.

You were slightly filled with worry as you discussed your bare-bones resume during the interview, but Mr. Shade seemed impressed with your enthusiasm to learn the ins and outs of the company. The smile on his face never left your sight, and you hoped it was a sign that they would take you in regardless of your lack.

You were employed within two weeks. Adjusting to the new work environment was a stretch. You won’t be seeing your friends often like before but the pay was enough motivation for you to push on to your tasks, and soon after, the friendliness and helpfulness of your colleagues, especially Wanda, bled into you that you never wanted anything more.

Except right now.

You hope that your boss would acknowledge your efforts and hard work and that he would see you as an invaluable asset to his company. But the silence that continues to stretch between the two of you, only those stupid metal balls hitting each other and echoing in the vast office, makes you think otherwise.

Click. Clack. Click.

He says your name and you immediately sit up straight, eyes looking forward to face him before drifting down to the folder in his hand, deft fingers flipping through the sheets within.

“You’ve only been with us for half a year and I must admit that I was quite worried when I hired you.” He starts and you feel your heart pounding hard against your chest. “With your lack of experience and all.”

You swallow thickly. Unsure how to take his words. The threat of being unemployed once more lingers. He’s going to fire me.

“But even with your dearth, you have completely exceeded my expectations.”

You gape at him. “Sir?” The words seem to fumble in your mouth but you take a slow breath before adding, “what do you mean?”

“If the projected numbers are right, it says here that our sales have increased by twenty percent in a span of four months.” There’s amusement evident on his lips as he stands from his seat, rounding the sleek desk before leaning against the edge, and looking down at you. “That’s four times more than what we had last year.”

The folder in his hands now rests on your lap and you dare to look down, scanning the graphs and charts that fill the sheets. He’s not lying. You blink in surprise before looking up at him once more.

“Mr. Laufeyson has even called me personally to thank you for assisting them when they had questions about our packages.” He continues to explain. “Every email and call answered, and your diligence has helped them sell more of our product along with theirs.”

“I—” You fluster, looking back at the papers on your lap. “I was simply doing my job, sir.” You look up and then flinch when he’s suddenly at your side, hand resting on the back of your seat, leaning in closer.

“Exactly! You were doing your job; frankly, it has done wonders for the company.” There’s a grin on his lips and you slightly tense up when you feel his hand rest on your shoulder, giving it a light squeeze before he parts and walks back behind his desk. “And because of that, I’ve decided to give you a promotion.”

“A—a promotion?” You blink. Surprised.

“Senior Operations Coordinator.”

A promotion? You can’t believe it. You smile as his words slowly sink in, that your hard work has been recognized and has finally paid off. But just as soon as your joy surfaced, it dies down just as fast as the thought of Wanda comes to your head.

She’s been in the company for two years running, maybe even more, and you’ve heard nothing come out of her mouth than wanting the senior position. She’s kind, although strict, but she was patient enough to teach you everything you know. And you can’t imagine how heartbroken she would be once she finds out she’ll be working for you.

Still, you feel thankful though you can’t help but ask, “But what about Wanda, sir?”

There’s a questioning look in his eyes when he faces you. “ What about Ms. Maximoff?”

“Well—” You’re flustered once again, casting your eyes down to your hands to avoid the strength of his gaze. “She’s been here longer than I have and she’s probably more qualified to take on the role.” You try to reason. You’re new and the last thing you want is to have enemies.

“If she wanted to be promoted, she should have worked harder.” Annoyance is evident in your boss’ voice. “But the feedback I’ve got in her evaluation wasn’t that savory and I don’t want slackers within my ranks.”

You’re unsure if he’s supposed to disclose such information but you think better of yourself and decide to remain silent.

“Do you not want what I offer?” He asks, his voice softer this time that you dare chance a peek at him.

“It is a very generous offer, sir.” You try to smile. “But—”

“But why won’t you take it? Do you not believe in your capabilities?”

“I do.” You try to argue. “But—”

He doesn’t let you finish, flinching when he claps his hands once in finality, the grin back on his face. “Then it’s settled. Starting next week, we shall make the proper arrangements and announce the good news to everyone.” He then bends down behind his desk, hearing a cabinet open then close, your eyes widening in surprise when he holds up a bottle of champagne. “We should celebrate!”

“Oh, I’m not much of a drinker.” You try to object but he’s already popped off the cork, picking up a flute from the shelf behind him and filling it halfway. He holds it out to you but you hesitate to take it. “I really can’t, sir. We’re still in the office.”

“Which is closed.” He rebuttals, setting the glass in front of you on his desk and turning back to the shelf to fill a tumbler with amber liquid. “It’s just you and me left in the building. And I promise not to tell.” You want to cringe at the wink sends your way but keep your face neutral as you watch him walk back to you.

The smile on his face then fades when he looks at you and then at the untouched champagne glass.

“Sir, I really can’t—”

“You’d deny your boss his request?” Your back stiffens at the sharpness of his tone, blue eyes piercing you and you grab the glass quickly for fear of angering him further. You stare at the bubbly liquid from the rim if only to avoid facing your boss. “Good girl.” You hear his smirk, a small frown forming on your lips at the unexpected pet name.

“Cheers.” He says, clinking his own glass with yours but you can’t find it in you to break company rules.

Under any circumstances, employees must not be under the influence of any form of an intoxicant (alcohol, drugs, etc.) while inside company premises.

“Drink.” You visibly flinch at the authority in his voice and immediately lift the glass to your lips, taking a small sip. But your eyes grow wide when you feel him tip the base of the glass higher, almost choking on the drink as he forces you to consume all of it.

You pull the glass away and take a deep breath when you finish, placing the glass back on the table with a loud thud. Your cheeks flush and you frown when you look up at Mr. Shade, feeling sheepish when you see him smirking down at you, unseemingly bothered at his display of dominance.

“Another.”

You shake your head in protest but he’s already refilling the glass, adding more of the champagne this time and taking the stem, holding it out to you. You stare at the glass and take it with reluctance. As much as his insistence makes you feel awkward, you don’t want to find yourself on his bad side after he’s just given you such a generous offer.

“Another.” He echoes, his words softer this time.

You do as he bids, closing your eyes before downing the champagne in one go to avoid him from repeating his crass actions. But your head suddenly spins and you almost miss the table when you try to put the glass down.

“Whoa. Easy there, lightweight.” He chuckles, taking the glass from your hold before lifting your hand to press against your temple, closing your eyes once more, you lean against your seat as you try to recenter yourself. “Maybe another was a bad idea.” But you hear no remorse in his words, only amusement.

“Thank you again, Mr. Shade.” You say as you blink, hands pressing down on the arms of the chair as you try to push yourself up. “But I think I should be going.” You’re seemingly out of breath when you speak, your head continuously swimming as you try to take a step toward the door.

“Please, call me Vision.” You hear Mr. Shade speak, only making out the first words but the rest sound muffled. You reach up once more to clutch the side of your head, your steps going wobbly each time you force a foot forward. You can’t be drunk with just two glasses. You’ve had champagne before and you’ve been having sips of hard liquor since you were sixteen.

Champagne can’t be strong right? You try to think but your brain gets muddled, leaving you with blank thoughts. You’re confused, questions linger to the unease that washes over you. You startle when you feel his hand wrap around yours, looking up at him with hooded eyes but saying nothing as you allow him to guide you on your way out.

You must have looked pathetic from the clumsiness he’s witnessed from you.

As you take another step, your knees buckle and you don’t even get the chance to react as you await for your body to hit the ground. But the floor never meets you as you feel arms catching you underneath, a soft whine escaping your lips when you’re unexpectedly lifted from your feet.

You feel something soft underneath you and your breath hitches from Mr. Shade’s sudden closeness. You want to move away but your body feels so heavy that you don’t even think you could lift a finger even if you tried.

“Stay still.” He whispers against your ear and you frown when you feel his fingers ghost against your arm, the hair of your body standing from his actions.

“That’s it. Good girl. Let me take care of you,” The sound of his voice so close makes your spine shiver, whimpering once more when you feel his other hand caress your thigh, your skirt hiking up to your waist and you try to move your hand to push him away, struggling to cling on the last strand of your consciousness, but your body won’t cooperate.

The last thing you feel is his fingers dancing along the inseam of your panties, his hand cupping your sex, pressing down on your heat before you’re completely consumed by darkness.

#vision #the vision #dark vision #vision x reader #vision x female reader #victor shade #mcu vision #mcu au #mcu #drabble ask #coconut bun stories

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aparticularbandit · 4 months

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Instigation: Chapter One

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

Wanda Maximoff/Agatha Harkness

Chapter Rating: T. Fic Rating: T.

AO3

next chapter

Mid-May, 2015.

Wanda stands outside the New York Sanctum.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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