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thenatashamaximoff · 11 months

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Whispers In The Dark

Summary: When a casual one night stand develops into a deeper, forbidden love, you and Wanda try to keep your relationship a secret as you navigate the challenges of balancing your growing emotions with the fear of being caught.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (no smut)

Words: 6,462

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┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @romanoffomixam @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns @marvel4liferz └─────────────∞─────────────┘

⚠️IMPORTANT ARTHOR’S NOTE: The following story (or following chapters) will not include detailed moments of smut. However, it does contain enough sexual content that I feel more comfortable labeling it NSFW/18+/MDNI. With that being said, read at your own discretion. Enjoy.

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The extremely comfortable bed you were laying on beckoned you to stay put, the weight of the covers over your body engulfing you in a warmth you didn't want to disrupt. It was hard to stay awake when you were so perfectly nestled in like a swaddled newborn. You had to find the energy to toss the covers off of you, though your limbs didn't seem to want to really move at the moment. Yet, with the seemingly loud vibration hammering away on the nightstand next to you, you were being signaled that it was time to get up.

Wait a minute… you don't own a nightstand yet.

You turned your head, the confusion evaporating quickly as you realized exactly where you were. You remember the bar, the attractive woman you knew you wanted the second you were aware of her presence, drawn to her like a moth to a flame. And you couldn't help but smile when you remembered just how successful you were in accomplishing that. But now it was almost six in the morning and you had to get ready for work.

You didn't want to wake her up. The slivers of light sneaking past the curtains to show the peacefulness across her face in the midst of slumber was the best thing you've ever seen. You didn't want to be that kind of one-night stand, being unnecessarily loud, not even being thoughtful of the one who doesn't need to wake up at the ass crack of dawn. No, you were going to be considerate and make a quiet move to the bathroom.

You kicked your feet over the bed, but you still weren't entirely used to the fact that a nightstand was present. You bit your tongue when your leg smacked into the front of the bedside table with a loud thump, and you weren't quick enough to catch the falling lamp, flinching when it fell to the floor with a crash.

A peal of light laughter came from behind you as you stood up, bringing the sheet along with you and using your phone to survey the damage done to the lamp. And, boy, that lamp did not survive that fall.

"I'll pay for that," you said, looking toward her. How does that even happen? The one time you wanted to make a smooth exit and the nightstand wanted to put up a fight. An inanimate object was your downfall this early in the morning and there was absolutely nothing you could do about it. "I'm sorry to wake you."

You were defeated.

"Are you getting in the shower?" Her voice was soft with no hint of annoyance in her tone. Was she not mad at you for pulling her out of the pits of her deep slumber? You'd be pretty annoyed that you were woken up by your one-night stand at six in the morning because they couldn't handle the nightstand.

She should at least be mad about the lamp.

"Uh, yeah?" You wonder if that was okay. This wasn't your place, after all. Yours wasn't completely unpacked yet and you didn't want someone as gorgeous as her to see that storage container apartment you got going on.

She moved to flick on the lamp resting on the nightstand that hasn't embarrassed you (yet), replacing the morning sunrise slipping through the closed curtains with a brighter, artificial light. She ran a hand through her hair, getting some of it out of her face, as she sat up in the bed. You couldn’t help but stare at her - the way she tugged those locks brought memories rushing into your mind as you subconsciously brought your bottom lip in between your teeth in a gentle bite. "I'll join you," she said.

"You'll… what?" The smile she sent you at your confusion made your heart skip more than just a couple of beats. "Uh, we just met last night… in a bar, no less."

She raised an eyebrow, though the smile still remained on her face. "We also just slept together, Y/N. It's nothing I haven't seen."

You swallowed the saliva forming in your mouth so hard that it made the actual gulping noise. Your cheeks flushed with embarrassment once more as you looked away from her, scratching the back of your neck. "That's fair," you confessed. You looked back at her and laughed as she hopped out of the bed with a smoothness that you wished you had earlier. It would've saved you from a lifetime of embarrassment.

She raced you to the bathroom, making you laugh harder at her little victory yelp when she beat you there. You wrapped your arms around her, bringing her close as you used your foot to close the door behind you.

It has been only a few hours since you parted ways. You walked down the halls, your mind occupied by… her. Her face, her hands, her smile and touch and laugh. You remembered every single second about last night and you just wanted to do it all over. Relive it once more. But you know how a one-night stand works, and there's a high possibility that you'll never see that woman ever again.

"Ma'am." You turned your head on instinct to see someone running up to you, holding a clipboard out along with a pen. "Just need a quick signature."

"What's your name?" you questioned as you accepted the items she was holding for you.

"Jennifer, ma'am," she answered, even throwing a little bow in there. You couldn't help but shake your head with a smile, quickly scanning the paper before scribbling your signature over the line, turning your head to meet her gaze.

"It's nice to meet you," you told her. Your eyes were drawn to something over her shoulder like a magnet to metal, your next words getting caught in your throat when you saw her leaning against the wall, focusing intently on the person she was talking to. You handed the woman the clipboard (her name was irrelevant now, you couldn't think of anything coherent at the moment) as you walked past her like a zombie ambling toward fresh brains.

You reached Wanda, looking at the agent she was conversing with. It only took mere eye contact for the man to send you a stiff nod before immediately walking away, turning to look at her.

"What're you doing here?"

She crossed her arms over her chest, almost just as confused as you were. "I work here." The crease in between your eyebrows only deepened with more confusion. "I'm an Avenger." Even with her clarification, it didn't make it any more clear to you. You don't remember her name on the list. She must be a new recruit. "Why are you here?"

You opened your mouth to answer but were interrupted when someone stepped up to you.

"We're ready for you, Director." You looked at the older man, reading his name badge as Phil Coulson. That answered her question for you, your eyes going back to Wanda to see the raised eyebrow and tight lips.

"Director?" She looked away from you, getting herself lost in thought. "Well, that's not going to work well."

You cleared your throat, your jaw clenching tightly as you turned to the agent. "Thanks, Coulson. I'll be there in a moment."

Coulson sent you a nod and left the two of you be, turning back to Wanda. As she tried to wrap her mind around what was happening, you waited for Coulson to be completely out of earshot.

"Why didn't you tell me that you're a new Avenger?"

"Probably the same reason you didn't mention that you're the new director," she countered.

You opened your mouth on instinct to rebuttal but closed it when you realized she had a point. You groaned, running your hands down your face. This is the worst-case scenario. It would've been better if you never saw her again compared to this, though just the thought of that pulled your heartstrings. You don’t really know how to imagine never meeting her.

"You're the boss," she said, once again pulling you out of your thoughts, "aren't you supposed to at least know who the Avengers are?"

"They sent the files, but I didn't read them," you confessed. "I wanted to meet the team members face to face." You did, however, read the names on the files and she wasn't there. You said her name so many times last night, you'd definitely remember seeing it on a folder. She must've been a last-minute addition, SHIELD not having enough time before your first day to compile and send over a file.

At the same time, would you have been able to stop yourself from approaching her at the bar? No. The way her lips formed a pout made you want to do anything to wipe that away, so you would've ignored logic and spoken to her. You still would've made her laugh. You still would've made her smile for the first time in what seemed like forever. You still would've made her moan and pant your name as your skins melded together underneath her blankets, lightly scratching her back as she made you-

"Where did you just go?" She snapped you out of your thoughts again, but this time you were a bit upset about it. Your cheeks flushed red, burning hot. The smirk on her face told you that she had an idea, but you shook your head and ignored her question.

"You are aware that this… thing can't happen anymore, right?" As your finger bounced in between you and her, her smile expanded, tinged with a mischievous glint that hinted at something devious lurking beneath. You found yourself needing to bite your tongue harshly in hopes that the pain would distract you from the warmth igniting in your gut.

"Obviously," she assured you and you sighed with relief. Now that the two of you were on the same page, maybe now you can stop stressing out about it. You knew for certain that you wouldn't be able to hold back when it came to her, so it was nice to see that at least one of you had some self-control. Quite honestly, the only thing stopping you from dragging her to your office and feeling her right then and there was the fact that you don't exactly know where your office was located just yet.

Maybe someday…

No. The relationship between you and Wanda Maximoff could not come to be. No matter how strong the connection, how tempted you’d be, it could never come to fruition. The unfortunate reality was that your relationship with the woman standing in front of you had to end before it even began.

That thought abandoned your mind when you watched her teeth catch her bottom lip, raising an eyebrow at you seductively. Your breath caught in your throat and your thoughts immediately became a jumbled, contradicting mess. She laughed as you finally managed to utter, "You're going to get me fired, Wanda."

"Director." You didn't turn, losing yourself in her eyes. You wanted to touch her. To take her face in your hands and connect your lips right at this moment, in front of everybody. New job be damned. And the annoyance that demanded your attention cleared their throat impatiently.

You turned your head to look at the addition to your conversation to see Coulson standing there, nodding his head at Wanda, a sign for her to skedaddle.

"I'll see you later, Director," Wanda hummed as she walked away, your head turning back so you could watch her leave.

"It's been more than a moment," Coulson pointed out, forcing yourself to tear your eyes away from Wanda's retreating figure to look at him.

You blinked. "What?"

"You're late," he clarified.

Your eyes widened. "Oh, right! What are you waiting for, Coulson? Let's get a move on." You gestured for him to lead the way, patting him on the shoulder when he rolled his eyes and turned his back on you.

"It's a good thing you're getting acquainted with the Avengers," he said as you walked alongside him. "You two know each other?"

"Not at all," you stated.

He hummed thoughtfully, clearly not believing you in the least bit. "That was Wanda Maximoff. She's got magic hands."

The snort that escaped your nose was involuntary. "She does indeed." You hadn't realized you said it until Coulson stopped moving to stare at you, his eyebrows bunched together, bewildered. You cleared your throat, your back straightening as you clarified, "That's what she told me earlier. She just didn't really tell me what she meant by it." You were right, there is no longer any more doubt in your mind that she was definitely going to get you fired. "Why don't you tell me more about Maximoff?" Though phrased as a question, he knew it wasn't one.

He continued forward and you easily matched his speed, walking alongside him. "She has a long list of powers," he started. "Telekinesis, energy and mind manipulation, and she can read thoughts. I’m willing to bet there’s more, she just hasn’t unlocked them yet."

You stopped walking this time, trying hard to keep your composure. "Mind reading?" So, she definitely knew what you had been thinking about earlier. "That's… nice to know."

Observing your reaction to the subject being discussed, he quickly decided to switch gears. “Well, she’s not the only one on the team. There are other Avengers you have yet to meet. We’ll start with…” He gestured for you to follow as he led you through a set of doors, revealing a sprawling laboratory that occupied most of the floor.

Pausing at the entrance, you watched as Tony Stark worked intently on a holographic keyboard. It was only when Coulson began walking deeper into the lab that you followed, cautiously advancing until you stood in close proximity to the brilliant inventor.

"Who's disturbing my bubble?" The hologram vanished as his fingers moved away from it, turning his head to look at you.

"New director," Coulson explained. "We're just making the rounds and you're the first stop."

"Y/N," you extended your hand towards him. His gaze shifted from your hand to your eyes and, in that moment, it became abundantly clear that he was not going to meet the handshake. You quickly withdrew your hand and let it fall to your side.

"Tony Stark, but you already knew that." He smiled at you, though it seemed a bit forced as his eyes assessed you from head to toe, sizing you up. "You're a bit young to be a director of something like SHIELD, aren't you?"

You couldn’t help but feel a surge of annoyance at his comment. Without thinking, the words slipped out before you could sensor yourself, "You're a bit old to be playing dress-up, aren't you?" As soon as your response left your mouth, you realized the potential consequences of your remark. Insulting the man who was throwing a lot of his money into this agency was not the smartest move. All it would take is a simple “adios” and you’d be out of a job.

To your surprise, Tony simply smiled widely and extended his hand toward you. Stunned, you accepted the strong handshake. “It’s refreshing to have someone bite back," he said, glancing at Coulson. "Take notes."

"Yes, sir," Coulson agreed, nodding with a forced smile. You couldn't help but grin, crossing your arms over your chest.

As Coulson gestured for you to follow him, you lingered for a moment to watch Tony go back to work, biting on a pen when he watched a small simulation of his suit taking on a battle, to which the suit loses. He huffed in exasperation, taking the pen out of his mouth and tossing it aside. It made you wonder how long he had been tirelessly working on this project.

"I know someone who specializes in nanotech if that's something you're interested in," you confidently suggested, capturing the billionaire's attention. Ignoring Coulson’s constant attempts to guide you away, you continued, "I can introduce you to her if you'd like."

A spark of curiosity ignited in Tony’s eyes as he reached for the pen he had just thrown, handing it to you along with a scrap of paper. With a grin, you swiftly scribbled down the specialist’s name, eager to offer a valuable connection. Tony glanced at Coulson with piqued interest, “Where’d you find this one?”

“She found us, sir,” Coulson replied, monotonously, before subtly guiding you out of the lab with a hand on your back. "The rest of the team would be a lot easier to please."

"I'm not looking to please them." Well, not all of them, at least. There was one person you found yourself wanting to please more than most. She did things to you that you just can't ignore. "My job is to lead them. I'm not here to make friends." Or lovers, but you refrained from adding that.

"Nice to know," he stated, leading the way into the training room. "Clint Barton and Natasha Romanoff, meet your new director."

The pair, entangled in a fierce sparring session, paused and separated as Coulson made the introduction. It was evident that they were skilled fighters, evenly matched and fully engrossed in their training. Or they were just taking it easy. Friends normally don’t beat the shit out of each other just for fun. You shook their hands.

“Directors usually don’t properly introduce themselves,” Clint remarked, a hint of amusement in his voice as he rested his hands on his hips with a heavy breath. “They just read our files and assume they know us.”

“They sent the files, but I didn’t bother with them,” you confessed, shrugging loosely. “Bonds grow stronger when everybody’s on the same page, not reading personnel off of a piece of paper.” Glancing at Coulson, you added, “I’m making this guy walk me around the building to introduce me to the team face-to-face.”

Natasha raised an eyebrow, a knowing smile playing on her lips as her arms folded over her chest. “Did you meet Steve yet?” Coulson fidgeted for a moment beside you, and one of your brows quirked up with interest at the sound of her teasing tone.

“I’m sure he’s next,” you replied, a faint smirk lifting a corner of your mouth when the redhead’s smile only grew wider. “I’m sensing an inside joke here.”

“Coulson is a bit of a fan of Rogers,” she explained.

“I have all his trading cards,” Coulson interjected, cutting the conversation off before it went much further. “We should get to it.”

“Can’t wait to see him, huh?” she joked, her grin turning sly as she stepped back. While they returned to their sparring, you and Coulson made your way out of the room.

“All of his trading cards?” you asked. “Do you have them laminated?”

“Each and every one of them,” he confirmed, and you could sense the pride hiding in his words.

He led you into the war room, where Steve Rogers stood, engrossed in a discussion with other agents about an ongoing mission. As the two of you entered, the captain’s attention shifted, and he straightened up, displaying his characteristic posture.

“Captain Rogers, this is Y/N, the new director,” Coulson announced, adopting a more professional demeanor in front of the patriotic hero. Natasha’s description of him being a fan seemed under-exaggerated, but maybe that was the point. You’re relieved to see that the team wasn’t all as serious as Coulson here.

“Good morning, ma’am,” Steve greeted respectfully, offering a small nod from his position across the table.

You pressed your lips together, a mischievous grin forming as his eyes traveled up and down your figure. “I know you all think I have big shoes to fill,” you began, acknowledging the weight of the previous director’s legacy. “Nick Fury was one of the best, but I’m here to bring about change. I’m not looking to repeat history.”

“I can respect that,” Steve commented, crossing his arms over his chest. A slight smile tugged at his lips, and you could feel Coulson’s subtle restlessness next to you. He was clearly worried you might embarrass him.

“What’s your current mission?” you asked, leaving Coulson’s side to join Steve at the table, studying the scattered papers.

“We’re dealing with drug dealers hijacking ambulances for narcotics,” he explained, arranging the papers to give you a better view.

You looked up at him, a hint of surprise on your face. "I didn't expect a big-time Avenger to be doing a simple drug bust," you commented.

"You’re not the only one around here looking to make changes," he said.

You grinned. "I can respect that."

Coulson cleared his throat and you both looked over him. "If you'll excuse us, Captain. We have a busy day ahead.”

"Of course," Steve said. "It was a pleasure meeting you."

"As you, Cap." You accepted his hand when he offered it over the table, giving a strong, brief handshake before releasing you. You walked behind Coulson as you left the room, grinning widely as you moved to his side. As soon as you were clear from Steve's earshot, you spoke. "You're jealous." It wasn't a question, and Coulson didn't show any expression in the statement. What did it take to coax a genuine smile out of this stoic guy?

"Thor is off-world dealing with some other stuff," Coulson said, ultimately ignoring your comment. “Banner has been MIA since the incident in Sokovia. And, since you’re already acquainted with Maximoff, I’ll show you to your office.”

Your heart fluttered at her name, immediately looking away from him to hide the faded blush forming on your cheeks. Why did her name make you feel this way? You had just only met her last night, so there weren't any long-time feelings between the two of you. But just thinking about her is taking away your ability to breathe. You didn’t struggle to follow your tour guide, but you did have trouble straightening your mind. You had hoped these introductions would last longer, giving you more time to avoid having to deal with everything. But without any distractions, you were forced to succumb to the realization that Wanda Maximoff was going to be in your life for as long as you were the director.

"Here." You released a deep sigh when Coulson finally stopped to gesture towards a door, giving you the distraction you needed to catch your breath. “This is your office.” You released a puff of air at the closed door, your name engraved on a plate nailed in place. You couldn’t let the emotions get to you - not in front of Coulson, at least - but this seemed to have made your title a lot more official. “The door’s unlocked.” If you didn’t know any better, that was a passive way of rushing you. “We also left you a little treat as a welcome present.”

Your hand pressed down on the handle, pushing slowly against the door with the agent right on your heels, and you managed to look up just in time to see something in your office that was most definitely not Coulson’s “little treat.” You quickly backed out of the room, bringing the door with you as you turned to face him. A nervous laugh nearly crawled out of your throat, but you managed to swallow it just in time. “I’m pretty sure I can handle this part on my own, Coulson.” The man didn’t argue with you, shrugging and walking away without another word as you slipped into your office. “What are you doing?”

“This isn’t the kitchen?” Wanda sat at your chair, not even bothering a glance in your direction as she casually ate what looked like a croissant (most likely the treat Coulson was referring to). You huffed, glancing over your shoulder as you made your way to the desk. Finally, she looked toward you, a smirk tugging a corner of her lips. “I could’ve sworn it was…”

With every step you took, your heart raced harder and faster. You couldn’t deny the intense attraction you felt towards the woman occupying your desk, even though it seemed so sudden and unexpected. She leaned back in your chair, crossing her legs and taking another bite of the croissant, slow and drawn out as she maintained eye contact with you. You couldn’t help but notice how the crumbs fell onto her lap, biting the inside of your cheek rather harshly as your breathing hitched in your throat.

“Is there something you need, Agent Maximoff?”

She quirked an eyebrow at you, though that smirk still lingered on her lips as she hummed thoughtfully before saying, “Agent Maximoff?”

You cleared your throat, trying to regain your composure. “That’s your name, isn’t it?” you replied.

“It is,” she answered, shrugging as she added, “but it’s a much different turn from what you were calling me last night.”

Her words hit you with surprising calmness, as if she were merely commenting on the weather. You struggled to hide the impact they had on you, the way they made your stomach twist and turn in a way that would make a professional dancer jealous. You had a job to do, and engaging in whatever this was with one of your employees was definitely not part of the job description.

You took a deep, steadying breath and reminded yourself of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. This was the type of position people would kill for (literally) and you didn’t want to blow it away by fraternizing. No matter how tempting the allure of a forbidden connection might be, you had to separate yourself from the matter. “I apologize if I gave you the wrong impression,” you expressed, your voice composed but firm. “Our interactions last night were outside the scope of our professional relationship. Neither you nor myself could’ve predicted this kind of… predicament. As of now, we need to focus on our respective roles within SHIELD.”

Wanda’s smirk faded slightly, and she leaned back in the chair. “Is that what you want?” she questioned, her tone holding a hint of defiance. “To just pretend like it never happened?”

You met her gaze - the way her eyes were soft nearly made you take back everything you had just said - but you maintained confidence in the matter, your expression determined to just rip this Band-Aid off and toss it in the garbage. “We have to be realistic, Agent Maximoff. We can not carry a personal relationship. It’s for the best if we maintain a professional distance moving forward.”

She sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly, and a flicker of disappointment passed through her eyes. “I understand,” she said quietly. She stood up, popping the rest of the croissant into her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. “You want to carry on like strangers.” A friendly smile lifted her lips, and you could feel a tug against your heart at the sudden loss of warmth.

You nodded, standing your ground. “It’s the right thing to do,” you affirmed, but your voice wavered slightly as you cleared your throat. As you spoke, you couldn’t help but notice how slowly Wanda was approaching you, as if she were a lioness hunting a gazelle. Panic fluttered in your chest, causing you to take a small step back. You made the mistake of meeting her intense, dangerously hungry green eyes. “I’m the Director, you’re an Avenger,” you stammered, your confidence suddenly faltering. The realization of the inappropriate proximity between the two of you struck you like lightning as the back of your legs bumped into a couch you didn’t bother to notice when entering the office, stepping to the side so your back hit the wall behind you instead. Wanda was now mere inches away, her presence enveloping you. Panic and desire wrestled within you, making it hard to form coherent thoughts. “I’m your boss. We…” You trailed off, a sharp breath catching in your constricted throat.

At that moment, Wanda’s grin transformed into a wicked smirk, her eyes seemingly penetrating your very soul. The air between you crackled with tension, and you could feel the heat radiating from her body, or perhaps it was the fire building up behind your flushed cheeks.

You were torn between the weight of responsibility and the magnetic pull of desire. The line between professional boundaries and personal longing blurred as the intensity of the moment consumed you both. The electric pressure hung in the air, captivating you and her in a web of conflicting emotions. Time seemed to slow down as you battled with the overwhelming desire and the consequences of succumbing to it.

“We can’t…” you managed to utter, your voice barely above a whisper, the words feeling feeble against the mounting temptation. Every fiber of your being yearned to give in, to explore the forbidden depths of this connection with Wanda. But the weight of your position as her superior, the potential repercussions, and the need to maintain professionalism weighed heavily on your conscience.

Wanda’s smirk only grew more wicked, her eyes gleaming with mischief and raw hunger. She leaned in closer, her breath brushing across your lips as she whispered, her tone dripping with seduction, “Who says we can’t? Sometimes rules are meant to be broken.”

Your heart pounded in your chest, torn between reason and desire. You could feel the fire burning within you overwhelming any remnants of restraint. With a surge of courage, you closed the gap between you, surrendering to the intoxicating pull of her presence. The world around you faded away as your lips met in a fiery embrace, unleashing a torrent of passion that had been brewing beneath the surface. Walls crumbled, and the pressure of responsibility melted away as you both embraced that forbidden desire that had blossomed between you. In that stolen moment, you chose to abandon caution and surrender to the allure of a love that defied expectations.

Wanda didn’t hesitate to return the kiss, making it more intense, more fervent. You were ultimately pinned against the wall by her body when she moved to get closer to you, feeling the tip of her tongue swipe your bottom lip, silently asking for permission, and she swallowed your moan when you granted it. Her hands gripped your hips to tug you flush into her, sparking a burning sensation in your core, and it only seemed to get hotter when her fingers danced up your body, slipping under your shirt to surf the smooth skin of your curves.

You pulled away breathlessly, your head falling back to the wall as her lips landed on your neck with no mercy, licking and sucking any spot she could touch. You attempted to say her name, to bring these overwhelming feelings to an end, but the only sound you could produce was a groan when her nails dug into you to leave crescent-shaped imprints on your shoulder blades.

“You’re not doing a very good job at keeping things professional, Director,” she whispered, her lips suddenly brushing against your earlobe. She laughed, and your stomach tightened at the breathy sound so close to your ears. “If I didn’t know any better, I would think you were enjoying what I’m doing to you.” You gasped when her knee squeezed itself between your legs, pressing against you in a way that nearly had you whimpering. “I love the sounds you make for me, Y/N.”

“W- Wanda,” you whispered. “Ple…”

“That’s it, baby,” she breathed, laughing gently as she pulled away slightly to meet your gaze. Her eyes were dark with desire, hooded by a smoldering intensity that mirrored your own. “Tell me what you want.” She smirked, thoroughly enjoying this moment. “Do you want this?” She picked her knee up higher, pressing into you harder, causing your body to jerk forward at the feeling of her touch. Everything inside of you burned painfully, desperately. One of her hands descended across your spine, bringing it around to drag a finger down your gut until it reached the hem of your pants. Chills covered your arms when you felt her dive in without a second thought, an inhuman sound getting caught in your throat. The wide smile crawling on her face told you she found exactly what you wanted.

The sound of a knock on the door shattered the fragile bubble of intimacy that had enveloped you and Wanda. Time seemed to slow down as she moved away from you, your hearts pounding in sync. The handle turned, and your chest tightened with a surge of panic, fearing that your secret would be exposed.

With a casual nonchalance, Wanda stepped aside, effortlessly transitioning into a composed state. She sauntered over to the couch you had already forgotten about, settling herself as if nothing had happened. Meanwhile, you seemed to struggle to regain your composure, attempting to mask any signs of the passionate encounter that had just taken place.

The interrupter entered the room without a second knock, Phil Coulson pausing at the door when his eyes landed on Wanda before they flickered to you. He cleared his throat, crossing his hands in front of him as he said, “Am I interrupting something?”

“Just a meeting, Coulson,” you claimed confidently, fully collected at the sight of your deputy, raising an eyebrow at him as you folded your arms over your chest. “We just finished.”

“Not really,” Wanda countered, and you didn’t need to look at her to know there was a teasing smirk faintly tugging a corner of her lips, “but I’m more than willing to wait to thoroughly finish later on, Director.” You managed to fight the shivers that rode your body, but the chills that erupted across your spine were a different story. You wondered if Coulson could hear the way she calls you Director, or if it was all in your head. She stepped into your field of vision when she made her way toward the door, giving Coulson a happy smile as she rested her hand on the door handle. She looked at you over her shoulder, and you could feel your cheeks flush when you saw the darkened look in her eyes.

The door seemed to echo when she closed it behind her, sealing you and Coulson in the room. His words cut through the lingering tension, bringing your attention back to him. “I apologize for interrupting, ma'am,” he began, his voice laced with urgency, “but we have a bit of an emergency.” He stepped closer, holding a tablet that illuminated with an image on the screen. “It seems that Thor’s notorious brother, Loki, has returned to Earth.”

The weight of the situation settled upon you, dispelling the remnants of desire and reminding you of your responsibilities as a leader. As Coulson played the video, you watched a seemingly ordinary scene: Loki calmly walking down a sidewalk. It felt odd to watch. Loki’s presence seemed to always bring a catalyst for chaos and destruction, so you find it difficult to believe that his return could just be taking a stroll, enjoying the sunshine.

Coulson’s gaze met yours, and you could see the faint colors of concern clouding his eyes. “We need to assess the situation and determine his intentions,” he expressed. “While it may seem inconspicuous now, we can’t underestimate the threat he poses.” The memory of Loki’s previous misdeeds lingered in your mind, a vivid reminder of the destruction he had wrought. It was clear that immediate action was necessary to prevent another catastrophe.

“I don’t want to waste time waiting for him to make a move,” you declared, your arms crossing firmly over your chest. Your gaze shifted back to the tablet, a sense of urgency seemingly squeezing your heart. “Loki didn’t return just to enjoy the scenery. Bring him in.”

Coulson nodded, tucking the tablet under his arm. “I’ll mobilize our resources and initiate the necessary protocols,” he affirmed, determination steeling his expression. “We’ll do everything in our power to locate and apprehend Loki swiftly.”

You strode purposefully past him, making your way to your desk. With a swift motion, you brushed away the loose croissant crumbs from the chair before settling down. As you took your seat, your voice carried an air of authority, “I trust you understand the importance of conducting this mission covertly.” Your attention moved away from the man standing in front of the door to one of the papers resting on the surface of your desk. “We cannot afford to have the public become aware of Loki’s presence, not after the chaos that ensued during his previous visit to our planet.”

He nodded in agreement. “I will assemble a team that can operate discreetly,” he replied.

“Make sure Maximoff is included in the roster,” you stated unequivocally, your voice firm and decisive as you reached for a pen.

Coulson hesitated, stepping forward to stand on the opposite side of your desk. He cleared his throat, attempting to voice his concerns, but you were quick to shut him down, “She may be fresh, but, from what you’ve told me about her, her powers have the potential to match Loki’s.” Your eyes locked onto his, and the next words that came from your mouth held a hint of a challenge. “Did you mislead me about her abilities, Deputy Coulson?”

His head shook vigorously. “No, ma'am,” he responded quickly, his tone filled with conviction.

“Then what seems to be the problem?” you pressed, a brow arching with curiosity.

He squirmed under your scrutinizing gaze, his discomfort palpable. “She hasn’t fully gained the trust of the others,” he claimed.

A smile played at the corners of your lips as you leaned back in your chair, assessing Coulson intently while tapping the tip of the pen against your palm. “This mission presents the perfect opportunity for her to earn that trust,” you countered. “I don’t recall my orders being up for debate.”

“Understood, Director,” he responded, resolved. You could see the way his jaw tightened in irritation, but you chose to overlook it as he added, “Agent Maximoff will be included in the mission.” You nodded, acknowledging his commitment, and watched as he walked away, disappearing through the closing door.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you released a heavy sigh, feeling the full weight of being director bearing down on you. Exhaustion crept through your body, and you sank deeper into your chair, running a hand over your face in an attempt to dispel some of the weariness that had settled upon you. You tossed your pen back onto the desk when a realization dawned on you…

Today was just day one.

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outerrimhours · 1 year

Text

Brahms Heelshire X Fem!Reader

{Part One} / {Part Two} / {Part Three} / {Masterlist}

Note: Let’s pretend two things don’t exist : Brahms' beard and Malcolm. I deserve jail for the chokehold this man has on me. This is purely self indulgent, I am suddenly so obsessed.

Warnings: Murder?? Blood, gore, being chased by a very attractive psychopath?? Would you consider this stockholm or just stupid, Brahms apologist, fluff, kissing. Gonna make a part 2 for absolute smut, but let’s be real here, he hasn't been touched in years. This is so toxic and not at all a reflection of reality yall, but common, the minute he said he would be good I would have folded like a lawn chair.

Song: I’m Yours- Isabella Rosa

I want your quiet, your screaming and thrashing

The salt on your lips and the hands that God gave you

And I want your violence, your silent sedation

Your moon eyes, your telescope, morbid fixation

"Help me Brahms", you had whispered to the doll, voice entering the ears of a ghost.

Your body shook. The shattering fear of the person you escaped from suddenly being so close. The fear that lingered when you left his abuse was suddenly so tangible now. A living force that crept over you and wrapped its overbearing hands around the muscles of your throat. You were immobilized, brain unable to form coherent thought, looking on at the shattered doll against the wood grain. Blood rushing, pulse beating in your ears; enough to block all sound. All you could think of was the doll. Brahms. Even through the eccentricity of the situation, you grew to love the doll.. and it was all gone. Shattered into unrecognizable pieces, just like the life you left behind.

The moment a haze crept over your half lidded eyes, the sound of broken glass brought back some alertness, and without notice your knees hit the ground. Your ex propelled against the ground in an inconceivable force.

Through hazy vision, throat burning as you desperately inhaled as much air as your lungs could take, you saw a figure straddling your attacker. A ferocity of physical blows to the man, the sound of his guttural choking on what could only be blood. You were paralyzed to the floor, the minacious aura hanging in the air. You saw flashes of color, forest green, the white of a shirt, the dark low hanging hair swinging as the stranger furthered his attack. The hauntingly familiar porcelain of a mask covering his face.

Bile rose to meet your esophagus at the sight. Cutting eyes rising to meet yours through the bloodied white mask. Everything was still suddenly, except the beating of your heart. Brown, almost blackend hair fell over his eyes. An almost exact replica of the doll staring back at you, straddling the broken body of the man you feared most. Yet you were not relieved.

“Brahms”, you choked out. Confused, frightened. Were you next?

You scrambled to your feet, legs clumsy and unsure as you back away from the stranger who had crept from the wall. Walls you thought were haunted by the spirit of a young boy. An ignorance shattered as the boy, or man, stood up from his position.

You sprint for the door, only to be grabbed from behind, held against his chest in an attempt to keep you from running. The fabric of his cardigan prickling the goosebumps on your skin. Only, his loose grip allowed you to slip through, breaking for the stairs.

Fear keeps you moving, hiding. The man on your heel at every turn. Until you found the secrets behind the wall. The bed, the sink, the letters. It hit you like a wall, the sickening, paralyzing realization. You found your face contorting, tears breaching the rims of your eyes. The ghost was a person. Suffering and alone. And when you reached your exit, you found yourself hesitating.

Why were you hesitating? Run, leave. Your brain screamed.

And then there he was, peering at you through the pipes.

“Please”, the boyish voice begged. A sound so startling coming from the bloodied man before you.

“I’ll be good. I promise.”

You were so close to freedom, halfway out of the small door. The smell of rain soaking into the grass between your fingertips. The English air washing over your face, blistering your cheeks with the chill.

You wanted to live. You truly did. You were frightened by his petulant temper when your body found freedom.

“Don’t you leave me!”

Agonizing, betrayed screams.

And when he screamed your name you couldn’t run anymore.

He had saved you. Saved your life. It made you sick, the realization that you were all he had. Will ever have. Every foot step taken was made in the opposite direction, retreating back to the overwhelming mansion standing ominous and threatening in the mist. There you were, turning the knob, allowing yourself back in.

“Brahms”, you choked, a whisper that hung in the air as he met you halfway in the dim lighting. Creeping toward you with slow, deliberate steps.

“I didn’t leave you.”

Brahms towers over you, vehemently staring you down with piercing blood shot eyes. His chest is heaving, sweat ghosting over his skin. You’re sick at the intensity. He could kill you, snap your neck between hands twice the size of yours, but you’re suddenly shaking at how close he gets. The nose of his mask pressing against your forehead, your eyes flicker to where his lips should be, the definition of his chest.

He’s breathing you in, electricity hanging in the air. Sweat and blood mingling in the space between you. Your breath is rapid, fingertips twitching, almost wanting to reach out and touch him.

How could someone be so trapped away?

You’re still so afraid, desperate to keep routine, give yourself a chance to figure this out.

“Brahms”, you exclaimed sternly, “It’s time for bed.”

The masked man jumped back slightly, startled by the sudden change in tone. As if being scolded by his mother. There it was, the childlike demeanor. His head tilted curiously, eyes softening.

You swallowed, holding on to any ounce of authority. Brahms craved routine, afraid of the consequences of unfollowed orders.

“I said it’s time for bed”, you reminded, guiding him to the room you tucked the doll into every night. A replica of him.

Brahms followed obediently, shrinking into himself like a child past his bedtime. His overbearing, 6 foot frame, lingered in the doorway patiently. You folded the quilted, multicolored comforter back like you did every night and watched as he placed the fire iron used to murder your ex against the wooden chest against the edge of the bed.

You didn’t forget that part. The way his face was unrecognizable, bones broken and mutilated. The body lying coldly against the mahogany in the living room. You felt disgusted at the sight, and yet relieved that that chapter was over. Although, you were too tired tonight, too traumatized to know what to do next. No rational thought existed.

So you followed routine.

“Ready for bed”, you asked.

His hands were behind his back, polite and respectful, like his parents taught, nodding his head to your question.

“Under the covers.”

Brahms sat, feet bare and touching the chill of the floor before lying back against the pillow. It had been years since he slept in this bed. Since someone tucked him in underneath. For years he watched the doll get the love he craved so desperately. Watching his parents cold and scandalized to his existence. Then there was you. Loving and caring for the idea of him, in the form of a porcelain recreation. Dutiful, loyal, beautiful. He craved you in every way imaginable. The shattering fear of abandonment made him feel irrational, but he could see it in your eyes when you pulled the covers over his chest. The uncertainty. Yet you had to know, you had to know the way he knew you so intimately. The way he loved you, craved you, would do anything for you. Proving his loyalty to your safety tonight when he killed your ex. Brahms watched every movement, every minute facial change, studying you so closely. This was the closest he had ever been able to get to you.

You brushed uncertain fingers through the fallen strands of hair over his mask, feeling the way his eyes roamed your face. You couldn’t look, afraid of what you would find in them.

“Goodnight”, you whispered, standing up and turning to leave before feeling the grip of his fingers wrap around your exposed wrist.

“Wait”, Brahms whispered back, sitting up slightly. Choked and barely audible, like a scared child asking for more than he should. The feel of his fingers touching your flesh sent him into an overdrive. The first physical contact he had had in a decade, and it was yours. Skin he had watched and studied for months, desperate to feel it.

When you turned back to him, you met his eyes. Your biggest, regrettable downfall. Pupils blown out and needy. Blue eyes searching and studying.

Something hung in the air, an unspoken acknowledgment as he guided you closer, your hand pressing against the arm draped over his stomach. You leaned forward tentatively, your own eyes wild and searching. The way he looked at you with such innocent reverence made you lose your breath, like a child laying their eyes on a fire for the first time. Dangerous and captivating.

Brahms gripped the sides of your biceps with a gentleness you had never felt. Such a stark contrast to the murderous display previously. Fingers tender, yet possessive, a guiding force to meet you halfway with waiting lips. Cold, porcelain lips and you allowed it and all its esotericism, somehow heady and riveting.

And you melted at the small whimper that escaped through the mask and hung in the air. This was wrong, your brain screamed in retaliation, and yet your heart, the knot in your stomach disagreed.

Your fingers waivered, reaching to touch the edge of the mask, before a hand shot up and gripped your arm roughly. Afraid, you pulled back to search his eyes for an explanation.

He was tense, not out of anger, but obvious fear. Heart racing wildly under the hand resting between his pecs. Your heart ached. The fire, you remembered.

“You’re safe”, you assured, so quietly you wondered if Brahms even heard it slip past your lips. His eyes darted over your face, what if you were repulsed by what you saw? Hated him like his parents always did. Disgusting and disfigured. Surely, then you would leave. Yet, he yearned to feel the pinkish flesh of your lips against his own. Brahms wanted to know what you tasted like, what sounds you would make. He had never kissed anyone but his parents, desperate to fill the need aching in his chest.

When his fingers formed around the crest of your hand, he brought it back to the mask, guiding you to remove it for him. And you did, revealing the face of the same boy in all of the paintings.., but much older. The left side is scarred with aged burns.

You should have been startled. Truely, a rational person would be perturbed. Yet, you obviously were not rational. Your heart ached for him, reaching out to place an open palm against his skin and watching as he sunk into it.

In a brave attempt at comfort, you leaned down, lips ghosting over the flesh.

Brahms settled his oversized hand against your face, fingers entangled in the silk of your hair, thumb gripping close to your ear. He moved your face to gain full access to your lips, crashing his own in an inexperienced kiss. It was awkward and forceful until yours parted slightly, allowing his own lips to fit perfectly against your own. You breathed in, a moment of rest before he gripped you passionately, lips hungry and desperate.

You settled fully on the bed, allowing Brahms to meet you halfway with his kiss, fingers gripping tightly against your head as if he would open his eyes and the moment would be gone. He would be back in his prison and you would be holding the doll like he wished you would him.

When you reached an arm over him to stable yourself, you brushed slightly over his arousal. Obviously hard and throbbing in the confined space between his trousers. It made you pull back, stopping the kiss altogether.

“I..”, you breathed out, unsure of what you could even say. So many thoughts swimming around in a frenzy. In the heat of the kiss you almost forgot the body lying in the living room, rotting away into the night.

“I’m tired”, you admitted, realization hitting the confines of your chest at the gravity of the situation.

When you looked up at him, Brahms was eyeing you in obvious frustration.

“No”, he protested. Annoyed, frustrated that he wasn’t getting what he wanted. He wanted more, to feel you, for you to touch him.

“Yes”, you replied sternly, a scolding look on your face, and you rose from the bed. Brahms hated not getting what he wanted, but he also realized he couldn’t push you further.

“Stay”, he begged, grabbing your arm once again in an attempt to still you. “Please”, he added.

When you turned back around without another word, sliding underneath the aged quilt next to the man that haunted you for months, you realized how truly mad you had gone. Surely, the house had caused you to go insane.

He turned to face you, sliding his body down until he could meet your chest due to his height, resting his head against your breasts like a child to his mother. Brahms could feel the way your heart raced, draping his arm over your stomach. He could hardly keep his eyes open when you placed your hand against his hair, fingers scratching and smoothing over his scalp, the rise and fall of your chest.

He would keep you forever, he thought. For you, he would clean up the body and the mess he left when you would fall asleep. It was the least you deserved, and Brahms was a good, dutiful boy.

#slashers #brahms heelsire x reader #brahms heelshire #the boy #fluff #part one #self indulgence babey #reblog #we love masked murders #Spotify

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merakiui · 1 year

Note

Hii!! I love your Lunar Love Hotel event so much! I didn't see any mention of you closing the requests yet, so I hope they're still open! (Otherwise, feel free to delete this.)

I would really like Red Bean Mochi and Blueberry Muffins for Rollo? I adore the idea of him leaving one of those with just the most creepy undertones, and completely anonymous, because it's the only way he can sate these vile feelings for a little while :') But feel free to do whatever you want with the concept!

yandere!rollo flamm x (gender neutral) reader cw: yandere, unhealthy behaviors, stalking, obsession, slightly morbid/dark thoughts note - thank you for checking in, dearest guest! enjoy your order! [lunar love hotel]

i. the diary of rollo flamm, in which you will find various love letter drafts and daily musings eloquently scrawled within perfumed pages.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『1』

For the hour I remained in the café, you smiled a total of thirty-seven times, one smile per customer and one or two depending on coworkers you’re well-acquainted with. I would have counted your every laugh, every blink of your perfect, pretty eyes, but then that would be like counting your every breath, every heartbeat, and it would be impossible to come up with an accurate sum when you’re always so...alive. One breath could be two taken at once, and a single blink could simply be my own eyes shutting and opening before yours do. Therefore, it is impossible to truly quantify your every movement without looking completely, utterly, foolishly enthralled.

I suppose this feeling is what you might call love. For all of the romances I have read and all of the romances I have witnessed in this city, whether intentional or not, the love I feel is not bitter or sweet like some might describe. It simply exists; it lights a crackling flame within the concrete hearth that is my heart. I should liken it to warmth—to linens fresh from the dryer or spiced mulberries or bright, dancing fire. It is comforting like the winter coat I don in order to combat this deathly chill.

I have never felt this way before.

Today, when I ducked inside to avoid the frigid snowfall outside, the bell above the door announced my arrival, and you were there at the register as always. You smiled at me, once when our eyes met and a second time when you had asked me how I was doing and I had said, “Cold.” You laughed, but I am not a comedian. I will not pretend to be one for your sake, but I appreciate your hospitality all the same. Your optimism, even if manufactured for the customer, is inviting.

Perhaps you reserve such reactions for me?

I visit this café every Sunday at exactly 10:30 in the morning. It’s important to be methodical in every aspect of one’s life. Schedules are necessary; they create order and peace. I have visited so often that you know me as a regular. You know my name and how it’s spelled. You write your L’s slanted and your O’s pumpkin-shaped (most likely because Halloween is approaching and it’s your attempt at being festive, even if the O’s look more like obscure shapes than pumpkins). You look at me when I step over the threshold into a room of coffee-scented comforts and you say, “A warm croissant and a cup of classic espresso with milk and foam, right?” And I nod every time.

You know me well. I will know you even better.

Your name tag reads (Name). It’s a lovely name. I could write lines of wonderful words describing the way it feels when I speak it to myself in front of a mirror or when I whisper it late at night as though it’s a secret. But I will not, as I am not usually very poetic, and that is a task suited for a poet, which I am not.

Surely you have a surname. Most often do. However, in the event that you are lacking one or are not too fond of the one you currently possess, you are welcome to take mine.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『2』

My first attempt at a love letter is as follows:

You are the warmth that melts icecaps and reshapes glaciers. No, not quite. Am I trying to compare you to the catastrophe that is global warming? Think romantically, Rollo. This is the City of Flowers, after all. Surely there are better phrasings...

You are melodious like the Bell of Salvation like the sweetest birdsong. You are warm and fluffy like a croissant. You are love incarnate. If I could pry you open rib by rib and live within your beating, blood-filled heart, we would be together forever. Bound eternally by flesh and blood.

These lines feel rather crude. How do romance authors capture the complexities of love so easily? Beautiful words come from the deepest pits of the heart, or so they all claim. The words I wish to tell you come from my very soul, yet I cannot seem to transcribe them here. Should I be direct? But then blunt honesty is not nearly as romantic as flowery prose.

Dearest, sweetest you,

For every smile you grant me, I live another year in good health. For every syllable of laughter and delight I hear, I feel inclined to give you the world, whether in ruins or not, if only to witness your happiness.

I suppose a start is a start, even if it’s a depressingly abysmal one. I hope this week passes fast. I’d like to see you as soon as possible for some much-needed inspiration and, of course, so I can watch you.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『3』

I arrived at the usual time, but you were too absorbed in conversation with a customer to notice me. I consider myself a fair, level-headed man, and for that reason envy is not usually an issue. But the casual manner with which that fool wrote their number on your arm, tattooing your perfect, pretty skin in sinful ink... You smiled and laughed with them, promising to call them after your shift, your perfect, pretty eyes ablaze with excitement or wonder or awe or... I’d much sooner poke them out with sewing needles than witness you fawn over numbers. I watched all of it from my place in line, gripping my handkerchief in such a tight fist my knuckles blanched.

You should know jealousy makes a man like myself monstrous.

It’s important that I keep this diary to detail all of my innermost desires so that I won’t feel compelled to act on them. But in that moment I had wished that, if you were to receive a phone number, it would have been given to you on a piece of paper. Paper is easy to shred and discard and burn. It is not an easy feat to sever an arm from the elbow.

But I can be patient, as I often am, so that you will come to love me in the same way I love you.

I write this as I watch you flitting about behind the counter to prepare my espresso. I wonder if you ever catch a break. This café is quiet on Sunday mornings, but I’m certain it’s much more lively during the week. I wonder if it’s ever empty and you sit in here on your phone, waiting for something to happen. I wonder what positions you might like to try on the counter, the tables, the booth I’m sitting in...

I had to shut this diary momentarily when you came to deliver my order. Sometimes I wonder if you would share my sentiments on magic. I almost asked when we talked briefly. Your perfect, pretty fingers were drumming along the circular, silver tray as you looked at me, smiling your perfect, pretty smile. I asked if you were studying anything. You told me you were taking a gap year, and then you had asked if I was a journalist because, in your words, I am “always scribbling away with your nose in that book.”

I suppose I am, in some manner of the word. I smiled at you, sipping from my espresso, and said, “The subject I’m studying is very special. One-of-a-kind, you might say.” A poor excuse at flirting.

I am not a flirt, and I would never pretend to be one. I am genuine in all aspects of my life, especially when it comes to love. You must know this.

You were going to ask me to elaborate, but the bell at the door announced the arrival of more customers and you drifted away from me with an apologetic smile. I caught sight of the number scrawled on your arm as you retreated. Magic could numb you well enough while I bring the blade down, so fast it will be but a mere flash. I should not cut your arm. I should not hurt you.

I should not love you to this extent.

Like the Crimson Lotus, you are a vibrant, fiery temptation. I fear the contents of my chest have already been reduced to ash.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『4』

The Crimson Lotus requires adequate nutrients like any other flower, though such nutrients are distinctive to this species. Unlike normal blossoms, the Crimson Lotus is parasitic in nature, sustaining itself with magic. You might liken them to the average pest, whether human or insect, or a fire that will only grow when fed more fuel. I could compose an entire novel on cultivation techniques and facts. I could also set these flowers loose and watch them wreak havoc on the city. The students from Night Raven College will be visiting soon, with a certain Malleus Draconia being among them. I wonder if they’re fond of parting gifts, by which I mean parting with their oh-so-treasured magic.

I hope you aren’t a mage. If you are, I’m afraid I might have to hurt you.

Rambling aside, I shall try my hand at a love letter once again.

Dearest, sweetest you,

You are the joyous scents and sounds of lively city streets, of bakers boasting fresh, fluffy bread, of florists flaunting floral arrangements in all colors and species, of townsfolk turning the city upside-down come festival time. You are the golden glow that befalls the land when the sun rises, and you are the silvery shimmer that swathes all who sleep under the moon’s watchful illumination.

You are the air I breathe. The air I need. You are the bell who should rightfully reside within the tower I will construct. The tower of my heart? The tower of true love? If I could climb inside your skin, I might come to know the real you.

Perhaps I should pick up another romance soon. I know nothing of poetry or love letters.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『5』

I followed you home today.

I am a fair, level-headed man, and so for that reason I know not to cross the law. But can you possibly expect a man of my nature to remain lawful when he is in love? They say love should surpass all. Does this not include the law? Does this not include morals and standards? If love is so mighty and marvelous, then why might some label my actions wrong and wicked? Is this not just a form of protection?

I do not intend to scare you. I do not intend to make you feel unsafe.

I followed you home today, and you did not notice. How could you when you had headphones on?

You live in an apartment on the third floor. If I counted correctly, you should be seventh or eighth from the entrance to the stairs, tucked neatly away near the end of the hall. Perhaps I should make a copy of your key so that I can immerse myself in your privacy.

I am a fair, level-headed man, and so I will not steal anything. But if you do find something of yours has gone missing—whether a personal item or what you think is insignificant trash—I have merely borrowed it for my own use. I cannot promise whether I might return this borrowed item, but I can at least promise that it will be put to good use.

I could construct a doll in your likeness. I would need clothing, perhaps hair, skin, teeth, a tongue to entwine around mine... That’s morbid, isn’t it? Fitting for Halloween, but grotesquely harrowing. A silent doll who resembles its human counterpart in all aspects but the vibrancy of life... I’d much rather have the real you than a patchwork doppelgänger. If I tried my hand at fashioning you from needle and thread, I would just create a corpse. There are artists who only paint pain and misery, hence why we now look at certain paintings and consider them cursed. I am not a poet or a doll-maker, so I will not write poetry and I will not stitch dolls together.

I am not a villain.

The urge to knock on your door had seized me then, when I stood in the hall in front of what I assumed was your door, my fist raised in preparation to knock thrice. Superstition says that if you receive three knocks on your door or windowpane, someone you love will have been taken away by Death within three days, weeks, months. I suppose Death does not need to conform to time after which the three knocks have been granted. Well, I believe in no such things, and I am not Death.

But you’ll certainly think I am when you can’t see me.

𝓔𝓷𝓽𝓻𝔂 『6』

Before I welcome the Night Raven College students, I visited you. You weren’t home. It was Sunday. 10:30 in the morning. I slid a letter under your door. Sugared thoughts are sealed inside with red wax. I’m not afraid to admit here that I am not entirely confident in my prose, hence why I’ve left it anonymous. I’ve penned the exact letter here for my sake, should I ever need to flip through these pages again to remind myself of the frustrations I conquered just to craft a single love letter.

Dearest, sweetest you,

I have never felt this way before. When I spy you through the window, I feel as if the stars have aligned to fix the very fate which has led me to you. Your smile is invigorating; your laughter is an enchanting melody. Perhaps you reserve such reactions for me? In that regard, you know me well. I will know you better.

I am not a flirt, and I would never pretend to be one. I am genuine in all aspects of my life, especially when it comes to love. You must know this. Unfortunately, it’s saddening to see how easily you fall prey to simple pleasantries. Infuriating, almost. You should know jealousy makes a man like myself monstrous. But I can be patient, as I often am, so that you will come to love me in the same way I love you.

Like the Crimson Lotus, you are a vibrant, fiery temptation. I fear the contents of my chest have already been reduced to ash. I should not love you to this extent.

I hope you aren’t a mage. If you are, I’m afraid I might have to hurt you, if only to show you right from wrong. I followed you home today, and you did not notice. How could you when you had headphones on? I do not intend to scare you. I do not intend to make you feel unsafe. I only wish to love from afar for now.

I am not a villain, but you’ll certainly think I am when you can’t see me.

#yandere twst #yandere twst x reader #yandere twisted wonderland #yandere twisted wonderland x reader #yandere rollo flamm #yandere rollo flamm x reader #yandere rollo #yandere rollo x reader #lunar love hotel 2023

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borgiabarbie · 7 months

Text

I could not cope with being Laia Burnell. How is she meant to choose?

Ezel

Pros: Kind, respectful, intelligent, handsome, devoted, passionate, likes books and art, you have a lot of history together.

Cons: Doesn't warn you about bloodstained crime scene corridors, his ghost contemplated getting a bit murder-y back in the fifteenth-century, overshadowed by his uncle/brother/great great grandpa, might still secretly make creepy pebble art as a hobby.

I only tried Ezel's route out of morbid curiosity, but... *whispers* it's actually really good? He's very well suited to Laia, and the moment a LI talks books I'm a lost cause. Plus he's so respectful and caring whilst still being passionate? Ezel, you are a lovely green flag.

Mehmed

Pros: Sexy, obsessively-devoted, rich, owns a fortress, mysterious, passionate, intelligent, patron of the arts and sciences, calculating, a lot of shared history.

Cons: Obsessive, no, like, *really* obsessive, ominously secretive, vanishes randomly, may or may not be partially trapped in the wall, doesn't get on with your friends, not all the shared history is 'great' (to put it mildly).

And he knows that because he lost Lale and realised nobody could replace her 🥺 Everything about this scene was perfect (apart from goddamn Vlad doing his Elsa impression before they could kiss 😑).

Noe

Pros: Charming, intelligent, witty, sexy, mischievous, caring, can magic you up a new look/pet/missing brooch, powerful to have on side, no Lale/Ottoman Empire baggage.

Cons: Tied you to a tree and offered you up to Vlad as a snack a few weeks ago, reluctant workaholic, bad at opening up emotionally, almost set your mom on fire, massive flirt.

"All his care and comfort" 😭. The transformation of this demon from carefree fuck buddy to loving boyfriend has been beautiful to witness.

TLDR: I'm glad I'm not Laia, because deciding between them would be horrible (okay, I'd personally pick Noe, but that's not really the point). Each of them has such good chemistry with Laia 😭

#The DLS LI are all so good!#I need to try Sandra's route too #Nothing against Leo. He just gives me 'boyfriend who'd want you to watch him at the gym vibes'. That's not my jam.#The only one I don't like much is Vlad😅#Sorry Vlad...#dracula a love story #rc mehmed #laia x noe #laia x mehmed #laia x ezel

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cherryrainn · 11 months

Note

I really liked the anonymous request about tmnt , I hope the guy / girl will not mind if I add something.

Yandere brother shredder and sibling reader, resigned himself to having to live with his brother and by his rules.

I will add a little 𝘩𝘶𝘳𝘵/𝘤𝘰𝘮𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘵

The reader wraps himself in a blanket and sleeps

Tmnt 2014/16

hi!! i really enjoyed writing that one, so i totally will do this for you. also, i accidentally deleted an ask because im a dumbass so if you notice how i didnt do your ask please send it in again!!

☽ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰ ༵ ༚ ༵ ۰ ✧ ۰

— blood bonds

yandere!shredder x sibling reader (platonic)

you found yourself resigned to living under the dominion of your brother, shredder. as the night fell, you retreated to your room, seeking solace and a momentary respite from the chaotic world outside.

with a heavy heart, you wrapped yourself in a cozy blanket, seeking comfort and warmth amidst the turbulent emotions that plagued your mind. the room exuded an air of unease as if it mirrored the conflicted feelings swirling within your troubled soul.

lying down, you stared up at the ceiling, your thoughts consumed by the complex web of emotions you felt for your brother. the line between love and fear had blurred, leaving you with an overwhelming sense of entrapment.

as you closed your eyes, you couldn't help but wonder how your life had taken such a drastic turn. you had always yearned for a close bond with your brother, but you never anticipated the depths of shredder's possessiveness and desire for control.

as you stared at the dimly lit room, the door swung open, and shredder entered without hesitation. the intensity in his eyes was palpable as he approached you, his mere presence sending a shiver down your spine.

"you know you're not allowed to lock your door, y/n," shredder's voice carried an edge, his possessive nature unyielding.

startled, you pulled the blanket tighter around yourself, the vulnerability seeping into your bones. "i just needed some time alone," you whispered, your voice barely audible.

shredder's gaze bore into you, his expression a mix of concern and possessiveness. "alone? you know you can't be alone, not when i'm here to protect you."

your heart lurched as shredder's words sank in; this was not the first time he had addressed these concerns. you glanced down at your feet, averting your eyes from his penetrating stare. "i didn't mean to keep you waiting," you mumbled, attempting to diffuse the tension that filled the room.

shredder drew closer, his body looming over yours as he sat on the edge of your bed. "i'll never tire of protecting my younger sibling. i would lay down my life for you."

the tenderness in shredder's voice sent a wave of relief through your chest. you gave him a weak smile, unable to hide the conflicting emotions swirling inside you. "thank you," you murmured softly, unsure what else to say.

shredder leaned forward, placing his cold metal hand on your cheek. "are you alright?" he asked, his tone soft and soothing.

as shredder's cold touch grazed your cheek, a mixture of fear and an unsettling thrill coursed through your veins. the nature within him had grown stronger over time, blurring the lines between love and obsession. you had become entangled in a web of twisted affection, where shredder's desires and possessiveness held a macabre allure.

"i can't bear the thought of anything happening to you," shredder confessed, his voice laced with a strange combination of tenderness and possessive fervor. "you are my blood, y/n. no one else should have the privilege of your presence."

a shiver ran down your spine, a morbid fascination mingling with your apprehension. you were acutely aware of the dangerous game you played, trapped between the longing for your own freedom and the magnetic pull of shredder's obsession.

he moved closer, his fingers gently tracing the outline of your face. "no one will ever understand you like i do, y/n. i know your deepest fears, your darkest secrets. and i'll protect them with my life."

fear gripped your heart, a flicker of doubt and apprehension dancing in your eyes. but just as the darkness threatened to consume you, shredder's expression softened, his grip on your face gentling.

"yet, i would never cause you harm, y/n," he whispered, his voice filled with a mixture of regret and tenderness. "my violence is reserved only for those who dare to endanger what we have. i would rather suffer than see you hurt."

conflicting emotions swirled within you, torn between the fear of shredder's dark side and the twisted comfort his words brought.

in a sudden change of demeanor, shredder's fingers caressed your cheek, his touch surprisingly gentle. "you're safe with me, y/n," he murmured, his voice laced with a fragile tenderness. "i may be consumed by this darkness, but i will protect you from it. you're the light that keeps me anchored."

and so, in the confines of your shared sanctuary, you surrendered to the twisted love that bound you, seeking solace in the fragile balance between the violence that haunted your brother's soul and the comfort he found in your presence.

#y/n #reader insert #x reader #hurt/comfort #yandere shredder #shredder #shredder x sibling reader #platonic #ask #tmnt bayverse #tmnt 2016 #tmnt #tmnt 2014 #teenage mutant ninja turtles

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okkotsuyuutaloml · 7 months

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a/n: i'm cleaning my computer and found a bunch of short stories which i had written for my english class (but ended up not submitting it bcs i chickened out and instead wrote an argumentative essay)

pairing: mark webber and sebastian vettel (platonic)

cw: murder, gore, horror, au

wc:

main mlist ! | f1 mlist !

thank you @taestwinkle for proofreading this for me!

in the shadowed heart of the decaying city of dunwich, where whispers of despair lingered in the alleys, two souls teetered on the brink of madness: mark webber, a forsaken artist and sebastian vettel, a macabre surgeon.

mark's studio was a morbid sanctuary, adorned with grotesque canvases that defied the boundaries of human suffering. his latest masterpiece, "the eviscerated symphony," had drawn the attention of the macabre elite, including sebastian.

sebastian, a surgeon by day and a collector of the macabre by night, had an insatiable appetite for the obscure. he frequented the darkest corners of the city in search of subjects for his experiments, always lurking in the shadows.

one fateful evening, seb's twisted path led him to mark's studio. the pungent scent of wet paint and decay hung heavy in the air as he entered. a symphony of anguish unfolded before him on the canvases, each stroke and brushstroke an ode to despair.

mark turned, his eyes like fractured mirrors, reflecting a thousand sorrows. "you," he said, his voice a haunting melody. "you are not here for my art. you are here for something darker."

sebastian nodded, a twisted grin dancing on his lips. "i seek inspiration, dear artist, and i hear your work is nothing short of transcendent."

a sinister alliance formed between them that night. sebastian provided mark with the most macabre subjects for his art, dissected and splayed open for his creative endeavors. in return, mark invited sebastian to witness his artistry firsthand, to see the unholy marriage of life and death on his canvases.

their twisted collaboration soon grew into an obsession. mark's art became more grotesque with each passing day, his brush strokes capturing the essence of suffering in a way that no other artist could fathom. sebastian, on the other hand, pushed the boundaries of medical science, experimenting on living subjects in the name of his insatiable curiosity.

one chilling night, as rain poured in torrents, the duo embarked on their most audacious endeavor yet. they ventured to the city's catacombs, a labyrinth underworld where the forgotten dead whispered their secrets. mark's canvas was set amidst the bones, lit by flickering candles, as sebastian worked meticulously to extract the essence of agony from a still-breathing victim.

as the night wore on, a maddening fusion of art and science unfolded. mark's brush moved with a feverish intensity, capturing the tortured soul of the victim on canvas. sebastian's surgical instruments danced like malevolent wraiths, unraveling the mysteries of life and death.

but then, in the catacombs' eerie silence, something unexpected happened. the victim's pain transcended the physical, and his suffering began to infect the very air around them. mark's brush shook as he felt the tendrils of agony wrap around his heart and sebastian's once-celestial curiosity curdled into a grotesque obsession.

as the ritual reached its height, the boundary between life and death blurred. the victim's anguished cries merged with mark's screams of artistic ecstasy and sebastian's maniacal laughter. in that unholy moment, they glimpsed something beyond their comprehension—a realm where suffering and creation merged, a dimension of pure horror.

the catacombs trembled, and a cataclysmic force tore through the studio above. the city of dunwich was forever scarred by the malevolent energy they had unleashed. the cataclysmic artistry they had wrought that night was their final masterpiece—a grotesque testament to the depths of human depravity.

in the end, mark and seb were never seen again, their souls claimed by the dark forces they had summoned. their studio became a forbidden legend, a place where the line between art and abomination had been irrevocably blurred.

and so, in the heart of the decaying city of dunwich, the legacy of mark and sebastian lived on—a nightmarish tale whispered in the alleys, a reminder of the darkness that dwells within the human soul.

a/n: definitely didn't have merriam webster open 😋

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senatushq · 8 months

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NAME. Dulce Salazar AGE & BIRTH DATE. 26 & November 1st 1996 GENDER & PRONOUNS. Female & She/her SPECIES. Vampire BLOODLINE. Mars OCCUPATION. Former Psychology Student FACE CLAIM. Danna Paola

biography

( tw gore, death, bullying, blood, murder ) Human. Overflowing vivacity and a lover of all, Dulce grew up thrown into a world of mystery and excess. With a long list of law enforcers within the paternal side of her family, Dulce always knew she’d eventually follow in her father’s footsteps and become part of Rome’s much needed security. Privilege and mystery remained part of her daily life, with all of her family practically cloaking Dulce from who they were and what she could expect from the future. Somewhat regal in appearance and status, the Salazar’s frequented some of Rome’s most elite parties, always effortlessly cruising through life with the littlest child of three eventually growing suspicious. Money had never been much of an issue, neither connections… or corruption. There’d been rumors about the Salazar’s for a while, about a family so corrupt in nature, cunning and cutthroat, that some of the elite began to suspect the worst. Thrown into the mix, with Dulce wanting to be liked and admired, it didn’t take much for the teenage girl to ignore any family drama for the sake of popularity. With the threat of her future still lingering over her head, with the constant reminder of her father’s secrets and nightly shenanigans, Dulce began to investigate. The Eye. It was an ominous, almost unremarkable word, whispered between her parents which caught her attention. To keep her mind busy, Dulce fully focused on school, friends and her love life, used popularity, money and intrigue as a way to forget all about her family’s ominous past, present and future. They’d always referred to the truth as being ugly. A body dragged over the floor of their mansion, Dulce silently watching from the shadows as her father prepared an unconscious, bleeding man on their dinner table by sticking silver into flesh wounds. The prom queen, little miss sunshine, her family arranged for her to attend one of Rome’s most prestigious colleges, to prepare her for a future just like this one.

Thrall. Despite her best efforts to abide her time, Dulce’s curiosity resurfaced. With her new posse to lead, college keeping her busy and away from home, the human sought answers all by herself. She knew neither her family nor any other account would be an objective one, but it wasn’t the lack of trust that had pushed her to this, but a morbid curiosity. Days past, with Dulce skipping college, bailing out on friends and events for the sake of answers. Obsessed with the idea of the other side as she called it, Dulce interpreted her family’s mysterious agenda as something far worse than money-laundry, the mob, worse than just a wealthy, Mexican family playing chess with other rich people, using them as pawns in their game. There were enough old tales to study, with her friends making fun of the now 25 year old. Vampires, Lycans, Witches, monsters of books and movies weren’t real; and so was Dulce’s influence. Pushed aside, the former prom queen was forced into a difficult position: a bystander, a recipient of mockery, her former friends found someone else to entertain. Still, she wouldn’t give up. That’s when she met Angel, a captivating young man, someone who could potentially be the answer to all of her questions. Meeting in secret, Dulce offered herself to the vampire, her morbid curiosity, need to prove her friends wrong and her wish for eternal life enough reason for death. His Thrall, an intoxicating and thrilling pact between vampire and human was exactly what she had in mind. All-consuming, wild and finally immersed into the world her family wanted to protect her from, Dulce tasted his blood all over again to keep their pact alive and well-fed, hoping she’d eventually become what he’d been for thousands of years. She enjoyed succumbing to darkness, feeding into all of her dark desires. Just to be right? Just to feel worthy? No, to feel like her true self.

Vampire. Tragedy struck. The announcement of Pluto’s return had been just what Dulce needed to prove her friends wrong. Of course they’d have to visit, see for themselves without endangering Angel in the process. Her secret, her vampire, Dulce couldn’t possibly expose him like this, wouldn’t. Luring her former friends towards the party seemed easy enough. She’d been vague enough about what would await them. A new lead in her theory, something that would prove herself worthy to them. Watching from the sidelines, her friends were already on their way back to safety upon seeing first glimpses of blood, carelessly splattered across a pool filled with even more blood. As they ran, Dulce moved closer. She could’ve predicted her own demise, but she chose to ignore all red flags, moving closer to fully experience what she’d been searching all along. Fangs dug into her skin, the thrill of death a sudden realization in her mind. And as she bled out onto the man’s shirt, Dulce’s last thought revolved around nothing else than freedom. Her freedom to be herself. Waking up the next day, Dulce did little to adjust, hiding within the darkness she hunted down her friends and former, human boyfriend, feeding on them to complete her rebirth. A woman of darkness, she’d be the architect of her own fate, the puppetmaster, the killer prom queen.

personality

+ devil-may-care, daring, passionate – hedonistic, self-serving, bratty

played by saskia. gmt. she/her.

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rainbowthefox · 1 year

Photo

These FUCK

#Whispered Secrets Morbid Obsession #Whispered Secrets: Morbid Obsession #Curioso #Hidden Object #Hidden Object Games #Big Fish Games #HOG Game

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hiddenobject-fanblog · 5 months

Text

Hey, all! I've opened my Art Commissions for the season! I want to make more Hidden Object fanart, so anyone who is interested can feel free to DM me!

Full Comm sheet + Prices below:

#hidden object #hidden object game #whispered secrets morbid obsession #whispered secrets: morbid obsession #curioso #seekers notes hidden objects #seekers notes: hidden objects #the informant #seekers notes #commission #commissions open #commission open #artist on tumblr

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early2000smovieimagines · 3 years

Text

Meeting and Dating Riddick

(Not my gif)(Requested by anonymous)

(Okay so Vin Diesel was like really hot when he was young)

- Considering who Riddick is, you knew of the man far before you’d actually met him. Stories of him had been circling from planet to planet for the past decade or so, so yeah, he was pretty popular by the time you; just so happened to, board the same ship as him.

- Well, we all know how the story goes: you board the ship, it crashes, and you’re subsequently deserted on a planet with three suns alongside a missing murderous psychopath. Just a regular ol’ Saturday, ya know?

- Riddick likes you the minute he sees you, though he obviously doesn’t approach you; given his personality. And, like a normal person would, you try your best to keep some distance between you and the muscled murder man.

- You did so up until you wound up falling behind as everyone else walked; mainly because you weren’t exactly friendly with anyone there and were in no mood to be squashed between people in that heat.

- At some point, the sand below your feet had slid and shifted on the incline that was there and you’d stumbled a bit, preparing yourself for the fall; onto your knees, which was going to happen.

- You hadn’t realized just how close to the dangerous man you’d ended up finding yourself so it was a bit of a shock when a hand gripped your arm, holding you up as though you weighed nothing at all.

“Thanks.” you’d somewhat whispered, a bit embarrassed and nervous. He didn’t say anything, though you were also interrupted by Johns approaching you both in a sort of warning towards the man.

-There is IMMEDIATE sexual tension between the two of you and it only gets stronger the more time you spend together. He finds himself drawn to your side, his body itching to be clos to yours, his eyes locking on you whenever they can.

- There’s an understanding between the two of you, an alliance of sorts, created as more time passes; something akin to a connection. So when you’re preparing to leave the planet and you make it to the ship after him, you’re offered the chance to join him.

- Whether you’re “selfish” and flee without the others or if you go back in an attempt to save them is up to you; he doesn’t blame you either way.

- Regardless, you find yourself in the ship with him, flying off and away from that eternal hell of a planet. And when you’re able to leave each other and he makes it known that you “could stay” with him, it doesn’t take you long to decide that you would.

- The two of you kiss before your relationship is made official. You’d been on the run with him for about a month or so, both of you obviously attracted to each other and getting into highly suggestive scenarios though neither of you ever following through; mainly him.

- You suppose that you could consider some of the times you’d been around each other as dates, though; at the time, they were more so “god I wish you knew how much I love you” and/or “I’m pretending that we’re on a date and every time I can’t just lean over and kiss you physically hurts me” types of hangouts.

- But, he finally kissed you as the two of you were returning back to your ship after a trip into town; or wherever he’d decided that the two of you needed to go. You’d just finished pulling off your jacket or boots and you’d turned to find him nearly chest to chest; or chest to face, with you.

- You’d chuckled somewhat awkwardly, stumbling back and making a joke before your eyes met his and an intimate tension filled the air; one you hadn’t anticipated. He walked towards you, forcing you to walk backwards until you hit a wall in the cramped area.

- The closer he came, the more you anticipated it and right as his face neared yours, you’d closed your eyes. He waited for a moment longer, staring at your face, contemplating his decision, and just as your eyes were about to open, he’d pressed his lips hard against yours.

- Your hands fisted into his shirt and his own hands moved to both cage you in and pull you closer at the same time. After some time, he’d moved his hands low, grabbing at your thighs and ass before he picked you up.

- It’s up to you to decide just how far you want things to go. But regardless of your decision, you’re now going to have a pretty hard time getting rid of him. You’re his partner in crime from this point forward.

- He tries his best to keep pda to a minimum since he’s got a reputation to keep up and because he doesn’t want you getting tangled up in his issues. When you’re alone he’s much more touchy and since you’re not in public very often, his dislike for pda isn’t much of an issue.

- Though he isn’t affectionate with you in front of people, he is pretty much always close to your side whenever he can be. He likes being there in case there’s something he needs to protect you from.

- Please hold his hand. He probably won’t do it himself but he secretly loves whenever you do. He likes how small and soft your hands are compared to his.

- One armed hugs. He’s big and strong enough that it’s pretty much the same as a actual hug; though he does give you those on occasion as well.

- Temple kisses.

- His kisses are sort of rough, purely because he’s a rough person. If it were anyone else then they’d probably just be considered normal kisses but because he has strong lips and a domineering personality they’re on the rougher side.

- Kisses between the two of you usually start out slow before becoming more heated. They’re the deep, drawn out types of kiss that end with an abrupt pull before the two of you snap back to each other once more.

- Soft, barely there touches; whether with his hands or with his lips. They’re so soft that you’re sometimes not even sure if they touched you or not.

- Sitting on his lap.

- He likes leaning down, close to your side to talk to you, as well as seeing you lean up to speak in his ear/get close to his face yourself.

- Considering the fact that you’re usually not staying in the most comfortable of places, you’ve taken to falling asleep with your head on some part of him. You usually start out just sleeping near each other but throughout the night, you’ll drift close and end up cuddling. It’s usually you who does so but on occasion, you’ll wake up to his arm around you and his body pressed up against yours.

- He likes pinning you to things when he kisses you.

- He’s sort of obsessed with your thighs and butt. He’s constantly grabbing or picking you up by them, usually to carry you off somewhere so that he can kiss you better.

- He’s sort of like an animal in regards to how your scent drives him wild. There’s been so many instances of him drawing near you or burying his face in your neck that you can’t deny that he’s trying to smell you.

- Good girl, princess, sweetheart; he mainly uses them in a sarcastic way but it makes your heart race every time and he takes notice of that.

- Getting thrown over his shoulder whenever he pleases. Make a fuss and kick or hit his back all you want, he’s not letting you down until you’re away from whatever he wanted you to be away from; or just wherever he wanted to take you.

- He lets you do things, giving you the illusion of being in control while you’re both pretty much fully aware that he’s only letting you lead him places or letting you touch him. Don’t be fooled into thinking that you have the upper hand, he always knows exactly what you're doing.

- Living in close quarters together. He in particular is always squeezing around you or using the excuse to press himself against you.

- He secretly likes when you try to tease him or are otherwise soft with him. Trying to go up on your tippy toes to kiss him, leaning in close to his face as you speak, lingering touches; things like that.

- He pretends like he doesn't know certain things to humor you. He notices everything so if you think you have a secret or are going to surprise him, you’re wrong; but he may pretend like he’s sort of surprised for your sake.

- Getting your stuff stolen by him.

- Getting a bit of a scare whenever he just pops up behind you. He sort of likes being able to scare you, he thinks your reactions are sort of cute.

- Stargazing. You probably convinced him to do it though he mainly just stared at you like a big softie while you were distracted.

- His only regret about changing his eyes is the fact that he can’t see you properly, and judging from what he’s able to see, its a damn shame.

- Bonfires and camping out places.

- Hunting together.

- Occasionally dropping into some far off planet, maybe going to a bar or him stealing from a liquor store so that the two of you can sit and drink together.

- You're pretty much constantly hiding out or on the run, well, he is at least. You may have to go into town for the two of you on occasion; especially if it’s a town that he’ll be recognized in.

- Little, somewhat morbid gifts; though he does get you ones that aren’t on occasion, both made by him or stolen from somewhere.

- Well, it’s a known fact that he can smell period blood so he’s always able to act accordingly and a bit sweeter than usual when it’s that time of the month.

- Tracing and/or hearing the stories behind his scars.

- Bandaging him up and him doing the same for you, trying his best to be as gentle as he can.

- Getting taught how to fight or shoot. He likes hoisting you up from the ground by your clothes or pinning you down, showing you just how much stronger he is. It’s kind of his kink.

- Getting taught survival tactics, card games, and so on. It’s a fun way to pass the time and a way to do it around each other.

- While he can certainly be rough, we all know that he can also be soft and caring; especially with you.

- Teasing; whether its with ominous connotations or not. He may use his teasing to gauge whether or not he can trust you or to find out your true opinion on something.

- He only ever wants to help you. Everyone else can be damned but the minute you need something, he’s right there to assist you.

- He pretends like he isn’t as worried as he really is by making his concerns sound threatening. Like after you put yourself in danger, he’ll make some comment like “you do something like that again and I’ll fucking kill you”. It’s the way he shows he cares; he isn’t used to giving a shit about anyone.

- He’s one of those “you don't have to apologize for anything” types of boyfriends. He wants you to be unapologetic with people like he is.

- Lots of jealousy; he doesn’t particularly like you being around other men though he does trust you. It’s not about him thinking you’d cheat on him, its about the one person who truly cares about him and the only person he can trust being taken away from him or liking someone else more than him.

- Somewhat overprotective. He doesn’t underestimate you but he does all that he can to prevent you being in any pain; emotional or physical. Whenever you mention a stupid, little fear of yours, he’s reminded of how vulnerable and precious you are and how much he has to keep you safe.

- He’s blunt, aggressive, sarcastic, and somewhat demeaning so yes, there’s going to be quite a few fights in your relationship; though most aren’t ridiculously serious or completely relationship threatening.

- After you’ve had a fight, he either doesn’t apologize and the two of you just move on or he watches you and let’s the guilt fester until he finally approaches you, putting his hand on your arm and kissing your temple. If you were outside of the ship, he’d pull you to your feet gently, giving you an earnest “I’m sorry, alright? C’mon” and guiding you back on board.

- He doesn't say that he loves you very often but you do “get one” on occasion, usually grunted/grumbled out and passed off as being no big deal.

- You’ll be his mate for life if he can help it. He wants to be with you for as long as he can, maybe start a family or just live out your lives alongside each other.

#riddick imagine #riddick headcanons #riddick imagines #riddick headcanon #pitch black imagine #pitch black imagines #pitch black headcanon #pitch black headcanons #early 2000s movie imagine #early 2000s imagine #early 2000s movie headcanons #early 2000s movie headcanon

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dreamer-73 · 3 years

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Okay...why is no one on Tumblr talking about this guy?! Just! Just look at him! and tell me he would not fit the bulletin board of stuff Tumblr likes!!!

#hey tumblr #tumblr friends #someone tell me #look at him #whispered secrets morbid obsession #curioso #hidden object games #monster lover?#stuff tumblr likes

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thenatashamaximoff · 10 months

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Whispers In The Dark; Ch. 2

Summary: When a casual one-night stand develops into a deeper, forbidden love, you and Wanda try to keep your relationship a secret as you navigate the challenges of balancing your growing emotions with the fear of being caught.

Pairing: Wanda x Reader

Warnings: 18+ (nsfw), mentions of death

Words: 6,174

✎ | ❁

┌─────────────ᗢ─────────────┐ @diaryoflife @women-am-i-right @creatively-analytical @obsessed-with-wandamaximoff @beforeoursecrets @iliketozoneout @olsensnpm @hoefnagel521 @chasingmaximoff └─────────────ᗢ─────────────┘ ┌─────────────∞─────────────┐ @myfavoriteficss @pinkytoecrust @cyncity32 @romanoffomixam @peachbear88 @magicallymaximoff @therealmeari @peggycarter-steverogers @ba-romanoff @natashabelovas @morbid-gaymer @reminiscingtonight @when-wolves-howl @idontknownemore @natashasilverfox @sayah13 @fuxk182 @scarletwitchofthewilds @natashamaximoff69 @wuwu96 @jsonebraincell @whendarknessturns @marvel4liferz @red1culous └─────────────∞─────────────┘

“Yes, sir.” You seemed to have stopped listening for a while now. You weren’t sure what he had said. The words had jumbled in your mind, making it difficult to comprehend the meaning behind them. You wondered if you had even articulated your response clearly, or if it had come out as unintelligible gibberish. It was as if the random noise in the back of your throat had escaped, mimicking speech without conveying any coherent message.

On the desk in front of you, Alexander Pierce’s face appeared on the computer screen. As your boss and the higher authority within the organization, his presence demanded attention and respect. Yet… you were struggling to do just that. For what was probably the gazillionth time in the span of twenty minutes, your eyes slowly shifted away from the virtual meeting to land on the folder resting amidst the scattered papers that littered the desk’s surface. Wanda Maximoff’s name was emblazoned in bold, black ink on the tab, enticing your curiosity. It seemed that the comprehensive dossier on her had arrived just before this unexpected meeting commenced. You hadn’t had a chance to explore its contents, as other pressing matters took precedence.

You had hoped that it would’ve faded into the recesses of your mind, much like the other neglected folders resting amidst the sea of unpacked boxes in your apartment. Yet, its persistent presence refused to be ignored, exerting what felt like a gravitational pull on your thoughts, compelling you to explore its hidden contents.

The allure of the folder became too enticing to resist any longer. With a mix of curiosity and trepidation, you reached out… but the moment your fingers grazed it, you were snapped back to attention by the mere sound of her name rolling off of Alexander Pierce’s tongue. “It has come to my attention that you sent Wanda Maximoff on a highly sensitive operation this morning.”

“Yes, sir.” The fog that had clouded your thoughts began to dissipate, replaced by a renewed sense of alertness. You recalled the mission you had assigned her earlier, a covert operation of significant importance. “The assignment involved retrieving Loki Laufeyson, Thor’s brother,” you explained, making sure your words were clear and coherent this time. “Agent Maximoff’s unique abilities made her a valuable asset for the task. As far as I’m concerned, she executed it with precision and achieved the objective successfully. The man in question is sitting in one of our… rigged capsules.”

Pierce’s scrutinizing gaze remained fixed on you, his expression unreadable. “I hope you understand the gravity of the situation, Director,” he stated sternly. “Not only are Maximoff’s powers still relatively unknown and untested, but she also has a past that makes it difficult to trust her. We cannot afford any mishaps or breaches in security.”

You maintained a composed demeanor, acknowledging the seriousness of Pierce’s concerns. “I understand the gravity of the situation, sir,” you assured in a steady voice. “While Agent Maximoff’s powers may be unfamiliar to us, she has demonstrated her loyalty and commitment to the mission. Her past may raise questions, but she has been thoroughly vetted and deemed fit for the task.”

Pierce’s expression remained wary, but a hint of curiosity flickered in his eyes. “Vetting can only provide limited assurances,” he cautioned. “We must tread carefully when dealing with individuals of such complex backgrounds. Their loyalties can… shift unpredictably.” His eyes were guarded behind a steely look as his words hung in the air, underscoring the delicate nature of the situation and the potential risks involved.

You met his gaze head-on, unyielding in your resolve as a determined spark ignited within you. “I’m well aware of the risks, sir,” you responded firmly, your tone brimming with conviction. “Agent Maximoff’s past may be complicated, but her actions thus far have shown dedication and commitment. She successfully apprehended Loki under the radar. I entrusted her with a mission, and she exceeded all expectations.” Leaning forward, you rested your elbows against the top of the desk, emphasizing your earnestness. “I understand the need for caution, sir, but how can we expect someone to earn trust if they’re never given the opportunity?”

You could’ve sworn you caught Pierce’s expression softening, but he was quick to catch it, steeling himself once more. “You have an optimistic view of her,” he remarked, though his wariness remained visible in his tone. “Just ensure that your optimism doesn’t blind you to potential threats. Keep a close eye on her, Director.”

“I will exercise vigilance, sir,” you assured him. “The safety and integrity of this organization are my utmost priorities. We will monitor her closely and act accordingly should any concerns arise.” As you spoke, your attention was momentarily captured by the sound of your office door swinging open and then closing. Your heart quickened its pace when you watched Wanda confidently stride into the room, maintaining eye contact over the top of the laptop while sitting against the arm of the couch, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth. The intense energy between you was palpable, and you couldn’t help but feel a surge of anticipation.

Pierce’s voice brought you back to the present, jolting you out of the spell Wanda’s presence had cast. “Very well, Director,” he acknowledged, his tone authoritative. “I trust your ability to handle this matter with the necessary caution. Keep me informed of any significant developments.”

You nodded in response, slightly struggling to keep your voice steady and determined, “Yes, sir.”

With those parting words, the screen flickered and Pierce’s presence dissipated, ultimately allowing you to turn your gaze back to Wanda, who was still resting against the couch, a small, enigmatic smile playing on her lips. You closed the laptop slowly, deliberately, allowing yourself a moment to collect your thoughts. The room seemed to buzz with an electric charge, and the intensity of the connection between you and Wanda lingered in the air.

No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you knew you had to… you couldn’t deny the magnetic pull between the two of you.

“I wasn’t aware I had an open-door policy, Miss Maximoff,” you remarked. As you casually adjusted your position, leaning back in your chair, your arm subtly slid across the desk with your movement, purposefully disrupting the already-scattered pile of papers to conceal the folder containing her dossier.

She chuckled softly, lowly, yet you heard it all too well. “Well, Director, I couldn’t resist the temptation to see you in action,” she replied, her voice carrying a teasing undertone.

A playful spark seemed to ignite within you, and you found yourself leaning forward just as she was slowly moving to stand. “Is that so?” you retorted, a glimmer of excitement unwillingly dancing in your eyes. “Perhaps I should enforce stricter rules then.”

Wanda’s smirk grew more pronounced, and she began closing the distance between you with calculated steps. “Or maybe,” she offered, her voice low and suggestive, “we can find another way to bend them just a little.”

Your eyes darted to the laptop, remnants of the video call with Alexander Pierce slipping into your mind. The weight of your responsibilities bore down on you, reminding you of the delicate balance you had to maintain within the organization. The lines between professional conduct and personal inclinations blurred in the presence of Wanda Maximoff.

The air crackled with suspense as she rounded the desk, pushing against the top of your chair until you were fully facing her. Once again, the weight of responsibility is completely forgotten. Your jaw dropped open, a word on the tip of your tongue, yet no sounds could be heard when Wanda gently lowered herself onto you, straddling your lap as her fingers gripped the back of your neck. Your movements were automatic, your hands resting on her hips as you seemed to have trouble looking away from her emerald irises.

“Wanda…” You were trying to say her name with authority, trying to warn her that she shouldn’t be doing this, but your body sold you out. Instead, you said her name wanton, as if you were begging for more because, fight as hard as you can, Y/N, you did want more.

And her low, breathy chuckle told you she knew that, too. “I told you,” she whispered, bending slightly so her lips brushed your ear. “I was more than willing to wait to finish thoroughly.” She took your earlobe in between her teeth just as she drove her hips against you, pulling a gasp from your throat while your stomach twisted like a coil.

Your grip on her waist tightened with need, and you gave in to the feeling pushing against you. With one quick maneuver, your lips were pressed into hers, swallowing her moans as your hands guided her rutting. Your insides throbbed with desire, your fingers danced up her shirt as she took over her own motions, and the way she moaned your name into your ear had you gasping. You turned in the chair, Wanda bracing herself against the desk behind her, and the movement seemed to brush some of the scattered papers off of your desk and to the floor.

“Touch me, Y/N,” she whispered, panted, begged. It sent shivers up your spine.

You obliged, allowing the tips of your fingers to ride the supple surface of her abdomen until they reached the hem of her bra. The skin under the garment was warm, and she was groaning the moment your touch skirted over the area she desired to be touched the most. Her chin tilted back as you leaned forward, exposing her neck to give you more access as your lips brushed across it like a feather.

“Wanda, I’m…” Your words trailed off as a sudden clap of thunder reverberated through the air, jolting you back to reality. The sound seemed to echo in your ears, its intensity leaving you slightly unnerved, yet Wanda appeared unfazed by the disturbance. The moment you pulled back, she pushed forward, pressing her lips to the soft skin just underneath your jaw. It was like flipping a switch, plunging back into the captivating allure of Wanda’s touches and the sensations they bring. However, reality wasn’t going to let go of you that easily, reclaiming its hold as a series of sharp and loud knocks resounded throughout the room.

Unlike earlier, Wanda wasn’t as willing to part ways this time. She released a deep, irritated breath as she swiftly climbed off your lap mere moments before the door opened. A woman popped her head into the room, her eyes bouncing back and forth between you and Wanda for a moment before finally settling on you. She looked familiar, her name making an uncomfortable itch appear in the back of your mind as she fully entered the room.

“Ma’am,” her voice broke through the hazy enchantment, serving as a reminder of the woman’s identity. You recalled her from earlier in the day, realizing that she had requested your signature for… something, yet her name seemed to elude your memory. “There’s an urgent matter that requires your immediate attention.”

You pressed your lips together, scratching the back of your neck before you moved to stand up. Now that Wanda’s body wasn’t pumping adrenaline through you, exhaustion seems to be sneaking up on you pretty quickly. It was evident in your eyes, but your movements didn’t lack confidence as you followed the woman (whose name you can’t remember for some awful reason).

As she guided you down the corridors of the compound, the clamor of raised voices grew louder. Surely this was the urgent matter the woman had mentioned.

Rounding the corner, a scene unfolded before you - a swarm of SHIELD agents surrounding a central figure, their attention fixated on the source of the commotion. It was none other than Thor Odinson, radiating an unmistakable aura of anger and frustration at the heart of the gathering.

“I demand for my brother to be released at once!” he commanded, his furrowed brows displaying deep frustration and determination. His body turned, eyes searching the growing crowd, seeking an authoritative figure. “Loki belongs in the prisons of Asgard, not held captive in some mere human penitentiary! Show me to him!”

“That’s not happening,” you declared, the sea of agents parting at the sound of your voice. It was instant that Thor’s piercing blue eyes snapped onto you, eyeing the way you stood as tall as you could with your hands gripping your hips, projecting an air of superiority. “Your brother stands accused of grave crimes against humanity. He is required by law to face consequences, whether or not he is a god or the adopted brother of one.”

“And he shall see to those consequences on Asgard.”

“He didn’t seem to last very long in your prison,” you countered, your arms firmly crossing over your chest as you held your ground. The tension in the hall thickened as your words hung in the air “Considering he’s here and not there, did he get early release for good behavior?” Thor’s eyes narrowed, his gaze intensifying, while faint chuckles floated from the onlookers. Your focus remained on his intimidating presence. The soft laughter ceased just as quickly as it came to be, swallowed by the weight of the situation when he took a small yet heavy step forward, his expression becoming sterner.

“Where’s Fury?” Thor’s voice was laced with a mix of suspicion and urgency. The mention of the former director’s absence seemed to ignite a spark of concern within him.

You cleared your throat, your tone unwavering as you met Thor’s fiery gaze. “He’s no longer with us. Unfortunately for you, Mr. Odinson, that puts me in charge.” Authority floated around you as you stepped forward with confidence despite the anger displayed on his face. “Loki stays here.”

The area grew quiet, the anticipation hanging thick in the air. All eyes were fixed upon the clash of wills between you and Thor, the atmosphere crackled with tension as the two of you stood locked in a silent battle of determination. The fate of Loki hung in the balance, and it was clear that both of you were determined to defend your respective positions.

“Loki is my brother. My responsibility,” Thor announced, his voice growing deeper and more forceful. “I’m not leaving until he is at my side, and anyone who stands in my way will face their own consequences.” The agents in the room exchanged uneasy glances, recognizing the potential for conflict that loomed before them. Some even slowly moved their hands to rest on their sidearms, and you could feel your stomach twisting tautly with nerves. Hopefully, it doesn’t come down to that.

You took a deep breath, steeling yourself against the mounting pressure. It was clear that Thor’s determination had escalated, and finding a peaceful resolution would be an uphill battle. But you couldn’t allow the situation to escalate into violence or compromise the safety of those nearby. “I understand the bond you share with Loki, Mr. Odinson,” you finally said, your tone steady despite the growing tension, “but we cannot allow personal attachments to undermine our duty and the security of innocent lives. We must consider the results of releasing Loki into an environment where he has proven to be a threat.”

Your decision was met with an intense gaze, his grip on Mjolnir tightening, sparks of electricity crackling around him. The crowd held its breath, awaiting his next move.

“Stand aside,” Thor growled, his voice filled with anger and resolve, “or face the full fury of a god.”

Your heart raced rapidly, beating against your chest as he seemed to stand taller before you, but you stood your ground, refusing to be intimidated. “Violence is not the answer.” You lifted a hand in an attempt to calm him down as you added, “We must find a way to resolve this without causing harm to anyone.”

The air seemed to tremble with the unspoken clash between the two of you. The agents watched on, their loyalty divided between their duty and the power emanating from Thor. At that moment, you realized that finding a compromise would be even more challenging than anticipated. The fate of Loki, the security of the organization, and the potential for a confrontation hung in the balance, awaiting a resolution that could satisfy both duty and familial bonds.

Heavy silence suffocated you as Thor’s gaze bore through you, his muscles tensed and ready for action. It wasn’t a debate anymore, it was a standoff. A battle of wills that threatened to tip over into chaos. The weight of the decision rested upon your shoulders, and the outcome would shape the course of events to come.

It was a moment of unexpected intervention. As Thor attempted to wield his hammer, a surge of red energy surrounded his wrist, hindering his progress. His mighty strength rendered ineffective against the force, causing his brows to knit together with rage, his pupils narrowing even further to mere crumbs. His gaze shifted behind you, and you turned to witness Wanda, her eyes ablaze with a fiery crimson hue, exerting her own power to counter Thor’s aggression. You found your stomach uncoiling when she met your stare with a soft, easy smile.

Hushed whispers filled the air as the two powerful beings struggled against each other, the agents watching in awe and apprehension, unsure of how this unexpected turn of events would unfold.

“Release me!” Thor’s voice boomed, his demand filled with indignation and defiance.

You felt a renewed sense of empowerment surge within you, a willful smirk curling your lips. The tables had turned, and you held the upper hand for now. With a determined gaze, you stood your ground, undeterred by Thor’s wrath. “Not until you calm down,” you declared, voice steady and commanding. It was a bold move, challenging the god of thunder himself, but you were resolute in your stance. The safety of everyone involved and the preservation of order was paramount.

Thor’s expression shifted from anger to incredulity, his eyebrows furrowing deeper as he grappled with the unexpected resistance he faced. The room crackled with charged energy, the clash between power and authority hanging in the balance. “I’m calm,” he finally said.

Wanda’s crimson eyes locked with yours once more, a silent understanding passing between you. She released her hold on him, and Thor straightened his form as his eyes danced back to you. He stared at you for a moment, feeling as if he were sizing you up, or as if he were forming another plan in that brain of his to get his brother back. Either way, you didn’t back down.

“Very well,” he conceded, his voice tinged with disappointment. “But know this, Director, I will be watching closely.” He turned on his heels, the crowd of agents instantly parting to give way as he marched away. The presence of the Asgardian gradually faded, his departure leaving behind a lingering sense of tension in the room.

You nodded, clapping your hands together while you announced, “Back to work, everybody.” As the agents returned to their normal rhythm, dispersing to resume their duties, the weight of the confrontation slowly lifted from your shoulders. You turned to fully face Wanda, but your gaze slowly drifted to Coulson lingering behind her in time to catch his small nod before he left.

“That was very impressive,” Wanda mused, struggling to hide the mischievous smirk that played upon her lips. With each sly step she took towards you, your heart quickened its pace, climbing up to your throat, unable to escape the intensity of the moment. The darkening depths of her eyes added an electrifying allure, casting a spell upon your senses. “It takes a special kind of courage to challenge a god, especially one consumed by anger.”

The surge of pride coursed through your veins, straightening your posture and bolstering your confidence. With a casual shrug, you maintained an air of nonchalance, even as you found yourself drawn closer to her magnetic presence. “I wouldn’t be a very good director if I cowered away at mere inconveniences, Miss Maximoff.”

She responded with a whimsical hum, her playful head tilt accompanied by the tantalizing sight of her teeth capturing her bottom lip. Her eyes glistened with desire, casting a bewitching spell that ensnared your senses. Lost in the haze of her allure, your arm instinctively reached out, compelled to gently sweep away the stray strands of hair that adorned her cheek. For a fleeting moment, you forgot your surroundings - that you weren’t in the solitude of your office, nor the seclusion of her apartment - until an abrupt chirp shattered the illusion. Your phone, a stark reminder of reality, jolted you back to your senses. Like a switch being flipped, full control over yourself snapped back, causing your breath to hitch in your throat as you hastily stepped away from her. The passionate darkness in her emerald irises wavered, replaced by a tinge of disappointment as you cleared your throat, forcing yourself to avert your gaze and reach for your phone.

The spell was broken, and the weight of your responsibilities crashed back down upon you when you read your boss’s name on the screen, serving as a harsh reminder of the boundaries that needed to be maintained. The boundaries you are constantly neglecting.

“Excuse me, Miss Maximoff, but duty calls,” you uttered, your voice betraying a hint of reluctance. As you lifted your eyes to meet hers once more, a strange sensation washed over you, causing your legs to momentarily falter. Lost within the depths of her captivating gaze, you found yourself trapped in a trance unlike any before. The usual desires, seductive playfulness, and mischievous glints were replaced with something different - something softer, more powerless.

In that brief instance, vulnerability danced in the depths of her eyes, as if revealing a hidden side that had previously remained concealed. It tugged at your heartstrings, stirring a mix of emotions within you. The allure remained, but it was laced with a yearning for connection and understanding. It was a vulnerable invitation, silently pleading for you to acknowledge the unspoken depths of her being.

However, duty compelled you to tear yourself away from the enchanting pull. With a resolute sigh, you mustered the strength to regain control over your legs, willing them to move forward. Yet, the memory of that moment lingered in the recesses of your mind, leaving an indelible mark upon you.

You could feel her eyes on the back of your head as you walked away.

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“Come in,” you announced automatically, barely lifting your gaze from the papers scattered across your desk. The routine had become second nature to you: someone knocked, you acknowledged their presence, signed whatever document they presented, and swiftly dismissed them. Your hand instinctively reached out to receive the clipboard, expecting the familiar weight of papers to land in your palm. But the footsteps approaching your desk seemed unusually slow, causing a flicker of curiosity to interrupt your monotonous rhythm.

Lifting your head, you found yourself locking eyes with Coulson. To your surprise, his hands were empty, folded neatly across his chest as he fixed an expectant gaze upon you. The absence of paperwork left you momentarily puzzled, prompting a question to escape your lips.

“Am I missing something here?” He maintained his composed stance, the air in the room growing heavy with unspoken revelations, and the gravity of the moment enveloped you. “Out with it, Coulson,” you pressed.

“Mr. Pierce is waiting for you in the conference room.” He met your gaze steadily, clearing his throat as he patiently waited for your mind to process his words.

Confusion furrowed your brows for a brief moment before surprise widened your eyes as you frantically sifted through the papers on your desk, searching for your phone. Desperation laced your voice as you hastily denied the imminent arrival. “No, he’s not due until tomorrow,” you protested, a touch of desperation seeping into your words. “It’s-”

“Ten in the morning.” Coulson interrupted your frantic search, his head tilting to the side as he observed your panicked movements. The unspoken thoughts that passed between you were evident in his expression. No, you hadn’t gone home. No, you hadn’t slept. Yes, you were doing all this paperwork Pierce sent over last night. Yes, your mind had been consumed with thoughts of Wanda Maximoff. The weight of your responsibilities and the unanticipated turn of events collided, leaving you reeling with a mix of exhaustion, longing, and apprehension.

In the corner of your eye, a glimmer caught your attention, obscured beneath the papers on your desk. Relief washed over you as you successfully fished your phone out of the chaotic pile. However, any fleeting sense of triumph swiftly dissipated when you glanced at the screen. Coulson’s words echoed in your mind, confirming Pierce’s untimely arrival and a wave of anxiety surged through you. The details of this meeting eluded you as if shrouded by a foggy haze.

Without a second though, you sprang to your feet with such haste that your chair careened into the wall behind you. The loud thud punctuated the urgency of the situation, emphasizing the disarray that mirrored your racing thoughts. Time seemed to accelerate as you quickly gathered your composure, determined to face the impending meeting, even if you couldn’t recall its purpose.

You exited the room, the door slowly sliding shut behind you, leaving your deputy director alone. However, it didn’t take long for a realization to dawn upon you, prompting a swift about-face. Sheepishly, you poked your head back into the office, a contrite smile adorning your face. “Where’s the conference room?” His finger pointed in the direction you needed to go, and with a nod of gratitude, you swiftly disappeared once more, determined to find your way to the meeting.

Upon reaching the conference room door, the sound of laughter emanating from within caused your muscles to tense up. One laugh was unmistakably Pierce’s, characterized by its gruffness and rigidity. However, the other laughter resonated deep within you, igniting a warmth in your gut that was undeniable. The mere sound of her laugh had the power to captivate you, making you hesitate to open the door and disrupt the harmonious melody unfolding on the other side. But you quickly snapped out of your daze, remembering that Wanda Maximoff should not be engaged in friendly conversation with your boss.

With resolve, you entered the room and confirmed your instincts. Wanda was indeed immersed in a cheerful conversation with Alexander Pierce, both of them sporting smiles. You forced one of your own, but as soon as you met those sparkling green eyes, your grin became authentic. “What’s going on in here?” you inquired, closing the distance to the occupied table.

“There you are, Director. Please, take a seat and join us,” Pierce greeted with unexpected cheerfulness, a major difference from the stern man you’d spoken to through the computer not that long ago. He gestured toward the seat next to Wanda, and you reluctantly settled into the chair while attempting to maintain a noticeable distance from the woman. “Where have you been hiding this one from us?” He looked toward Wanda, whose face had grown brighter when she saw you. “She’s an absolute delight! And she’s already ours for the taking.” Soft laughter lingered in his voice, leaving you intrigued about their earlier conversation.

The sight of Pierce’s ease and comfort with Wanda - as if they were old friends - immediately after issuing a strict order for you to monitor her due to a lack of trust in the new Avenger sent waves of unease rippling through you. It was disconcerting to witness such a stark contrast in his behavior, as if the order had been mere words with no real significance. Your mind raced with questions, trying to comprehend the motives behind his contradictory actions. Did he genuinely trust Wanda more than he let on? Or was there a hidden agenda at play? Doubt gnawed at you.

Wanda chimed in playfully, answering on your behalf while keeping her eyes trained on you, “Oh, Y/N just loves keeping me for herself.” However, as she spoke, Pierce’s demeanor shifted abruptly, returning to his usual strict professionalism. He studied Wanda intently, causing her to divert her gaze from you to meet his scrutinizing one. A knot of anticipation formed in your stomach as you watched him silently analyze her.

He cleared his throat, shaking his head for a moment before turning to you. “I’m impressed by how you handled the Loki situation,” he confessed. A glimmer of pride shone in his eyes, contrasting with his rugged expression. “It was your first assignment, a significant one at that, not to mention. To be honest, I wasn’t sure you had what it took, but I’m not one to shy away from admitting I was wrong.”

Leaning forward, Wanda placed a gentle hand on your shoulder and spoke, her voice filled with admiration, “It’s only been a day, but I think Y/N’s been doing a wonderful job so far.” This time, your smile remained forced as you subtly shifted your shoulder, discreetly removing her hand from your touch under Pierce’s watchful eyes.

“I can handle anything thrown at me, sir,” you commented in an attempt to divert his attention.

He cleared his throat, his eyes dancing back and forth between you and Wanda for a quiet, tense moment before asking, “Do you let all your agents call you by your first name?”

“No, sir-”

“I don’t see how that’s really relevant here,” she interrupted, not mincing her words. You swallowed the thick saliva that had formed in your throat, the knot in your gut beginning to grow tighter. “I believe that she-”

“Agent Maximoff,” you interjected swiftly, your voice firm, trying to regain control of the situation. You avoided meeting her eyes as they flickered toward you. “That’ll be all for now.” The room fell into an uncomfortable silence, with Wanda watching you, Pierce observing her, and you staring at the table, desperate to dodge all eyes.

“Yes, Director.” You winced subtly at the tone of her voice, ultimately telling you that she was not pleased with your dismissal. Surely she wasn’t one to hold a grudge over something so minute… right?

Pierce adjusted his suit jacket as she made her way out of the room, leaving the two of you alone. The sound of the door closing resonated in the quiet before his voice finally cut through it, “I’m not questioning your ability to do this job, Director.”

“Hasn’t even crossed my mind, sir,” you assured.

“I mean, you’re the first female lead since the fifties. I have the right to be cautious.” His smile appeared forced, lacking the sincerity it held when you first entered the room. The tension returned, and he seemed to fully revert to his usual self. “I came here to ask about your plans with Loki.”

“We have him contained in a specially designed confinement capsule aboard the Helicarrier,” you began, your voice steady and composed. “The cell is equipped with a failsafe. Any attempts to escape or breach the containment will trigger a rapid descent mechanism, dropping whoever is in the cell a significant distance.” You glanced at Pierce, ensuring that he was following your explanation. His eyes narrowed slightly, indicating his focus on the matter at hand. “I made it clear to Loki about the consequences of any efforts of escape,” you continued. “The knowledge of imminent death should serve as a deterrent and discourage any further disruptions or attempts to regain his freedom. My plan for Loki is to keep him imprisoned to prevent any further damage to Earth.”

Pierce nodded, slow and precise movements, but you sensed by the way he leaned back that he was ready to voice his concerns. “You want to keep him locked up for the rest of time?” He scoffed, a humorless laugh crawling out of his throat as he shook his head. “Loki has caused substantial damage to New York, costing us billions of dollars.”

“He has also taken just as many innocent lives,” you quickly claimed. “It’s not about the money, sir. People-”

“That’s beside the point,” he interrupted. “Keeping him locked up isn’t enough.”

Your eyebrows knitted together deeply as you eyed him, trying to get a good read on his face, but he was a closed book with no chance of getting it to open. “I’m sorry, sir, but I’m not sure I understand what you’re implying.”

Pierce’s gaze solidified, his tone growing more serious. “What I’m implying, Director, is that simply containing Loki isn’t a long-term solution. We need to consider more permanent measures to ensure he can never pose a threat again.”

A flicker of concern crossed your face as you contemplated the weight of his words. “Are you suggesting…?”

He leaned forward, his voice lowered. “I’m suggesting we explore options for a more definitive resolution,” he explained.

Your breath caught in the back of your throat, the earnestness of his proposition sinking in. “You’re talking about… terminating Loki?”

His expression remained impassive, but there was an underlying intensity in his eyes. “I didn’t propose such an extreme measure, Director.” He shrugged loosely, a sly smirk playing at the corner of his lips. “Loki is a prideful god. He views humans as insignificant and feeble creatures. It’s only a matter of time before his arrogance is bound to make him disregard your warnings and… attempt to escape his rigged prison. If he chooses that path, we cannot be held accountable.”

You paused, allowing his words to sink in, fully aware of the subtle subtext beneath his statement. It was a strategic maneuver to absolve himself and the organization of any responsibility. By framing Loki’s demise as a consequence of his own pretentious choices, he aimed to keep your - and his own - hands free from the stain of his blood.

The knot in your stomach - the one you had thought had dispersed at Wanda’s departure - reappeared, only this time it launched itself into your throat. The way his eyes gleamed with a sinister glint made you feel nauseous. “Sir, I understand the severity of Loki’s actions, but we must also remember our duty to uphold the principles of justice and due process. We cannot become judge, jury, and executioner,” you argued.

His gaze bore into yours, his voice unwavering, “We can’t afford to let sentimentality cloud our judgment. Loki has proven time and again that he is a danger to global security. We must be willing to consider all options, even if they are difficult.”

The weight of his words pressed upon you, and you knew you weren’t going to convince him otherwise no matter how hard you fought. Still, you didn’t plan on giving in so easily just yet. “Then we must exhaust all alternatives, explore advanced containment methods, and leverage our resources to ensure the safety of both our agents and the world.”

Pierce’s face hardened, the lines etched deeper into his features. “Director,” he began, folding his hands on top of the table between you and him, “there will come a point where we have exhausted all options. Don’t you think it’d be a waste of time, resources, and money to only end up at the same outcome?” He smiled lightly, a wicked tinge to the expression. “We cannot shy away from that possibility.”

Your eyes locked with his, a silent battle of principles and pragmatism. You had gone head to head with the God of Thunder and won. Yet, here you were, butting heads with a mortal man and on the verge of losing. “I refuse to believe that we must sacrifice our values is the only path to achieving the greater good. It is our duty to explore other solutions, to seek justice and preserve life - all lives. We cannot embrace the mindset that justifies shedding blood. There must always be a line we will not cross.”

His gaze softened ever so slightly, a flicker of begrudging respect crossing his features. “I must admit, Director, your unwavering dedication is commendable.” However, the smile that lingered on his lips revealed his underlying satisfaction. It was evident that you had officially lost this battle, succumbing to his ability to see to it that you would never step foot inside a SHIELD building for the rest of your life. “I expect a comprehensive report in my email by the end of the week.” He swiftly rose from his seat, adjusting his jacket with deliberate movements. “An autopsy report,” he clarified his tone laced with a chilling edge. A twisted smile played on his lips, the sinister glint in his eyes sending a shiver down your spine. It was a reminder of the darkness that lurked beneath his polished exterior.

With that final unsettling gesture, he exited, leaving you alone with the weight of his demands.

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