Secretly Yours - Wanda Maximoff x reader

Chapter 2: The Devil

"Could that have gone any worse?" Peter exclaimed, dropping his head onto the library table with a force that probably expelled the last of his brain cells from his empty frontal lobe.

I shrugged and opened my laptop, pausing for a second to raise an eyebrow at my pouting friend.

"It's not like she personally shouted us out. I didn't hear either of our names mentioned."

The brunette typed into his own computer, pulling up the form we'd been emailed. "She might as well have. Her eyes literally burned into our souls! And did you see that smirk? The woman's pure evil." He pushed his laptop away with a huff. "Is there even a point of us filling this out? She's definitely not even going to give us a chance."

I sighed and did the same, the sound of it scraping against the table adding to the hopelessness I felt. Peter was right; she had just dangled the opportunity of a lifetime in front of our unworthy little faces with no intention of considering us.

"I hate her."

Peter smiled, leaning towards me jokingly. "Really? With the way you were staring at her I thought you were in love with her."

I shut him down quickly with a smack to his arm. "Don't be ridiculous."

He put his hands in the air in mock surrender before chuckling at my grumpy expression. "Oh cheer up, I was only joking."

"I'm just frustrated. This could have been so good for us! Can you imagine it? Both of us working at the best law firm in New York, this would have been massive for our careers!" I explained with a shake of my head.

It was the start of a dream I'd envisioned my whole life: a massive office overlooking the city, a shelf packed with awards and trophies—physical representations of all my accomplishments—and a department of loyal employees working for me.

"Okay, I'm ending the pity party right here and now," he announced quietly, doing his best to not capture the attention of the sweet old librarian. "We are getting this internship if it's the last thing we do. We won't stop until that woman gives us a chance, even if we have to break into her office and put the forms on her desk ourselves! So just send it to her."

A small laugh escaped my lips at Peter's enthusiasm, but I did as he said, dramatically leaning back in my chair as the application was sent. Almost instantly after, the sudden ping of a notification sent me scrambling to grab my computer and open the email I had received.

"Oh, that didn't take long," he said, his face a mixture of surprise and disbelief.

I stared at the screen, the words jumbling and flying off in various patterns in my state of excitement.

"What does it say?"

"She's such an asshole," I grumbled, crossing my arms in annoyance.

Peter immediately put a hand on my back, his eyebrows raised slightly in his support. "You'll find a better offer. Maybe one of the other guest lecturers will offer an opportunity for an internship."

"No, I got an interview, it's just-just. Oh, just read it," I said, pushing my laptop towards him.

Dear y/n y/l/n,

Thank you for your interest in the internship position at Maximoff & Associates. I have reviewed your submission and would like to offer you an interview tomorrow at 11:00 am. Please ensure that you arrive on time; it would be a shame to waste such an opportunity on someone who doesn't appreciate it.

Yours sincerely,
W. Maximoff.

His eyes quickly scanned over the screen, his mouth agape.

"If she hates us this much, then why even offer an interview?" he exclaimed, briefly glancing at his own laptop before shaking his head.

"To watch me suffer."

"We can't give her that satisfaction," he said, pressing the send button without a second thought. "No matter what happens, one of us is going to prove her wrong."

I hummed in agreement. Truthfully, I couldn't tell whether Maximoff was joking or not, but I honestly hoped she was a good person. I wanted the internship so badly that I was willing to risk working with the biggest maniacle sociopath the world had ever seen. And now I had just volunteered to spend an unknown amount of time alone in a room with her. I was well and truly screwed.