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caesium-55 · 1 month

Text

—seven days. [ vi.ii ]

pairing: max verstappen x manager! reader.

summary: as the third time world champion, max verstappen's manager, you function on the belief that whatever max verstappen wanted, max verstappen shall get. but this time, after four years of working as his manager, you can't give him what he wants anymore and that was to stay.

author's note: guess who's not listening in her calculus lecture rn. also, wifi is acting funny rn.

tags: @whatamidoingwithmylife-ramdom @eugene-emt-roe @bellezaycafe @barnestatic @theseerbetweenus @wcnorris @notyouraveragemochii @lpab @vildetry06 @a-beaverhausen @formula1mount @loloekie @alucardsdaddyissues @juky-ps @cassianswh0reeee @devotedlycrookeddonut @amberpanda99 @supermaxv1 @evie-119 @spideylovin @harianaswhore @formulaal

masterlist.

2020

There have been a lot of new protocols to follow. Social distancing. Wearing face masks. Races being rescheduled. Australia, China, Netherlands, Monaco, Azerbaijan, Canada, and France are canceled. Vietnam is postponed. The first race of the season takes place in the Red Bull Ring in Austria and Max gets a fucking DNF.

After exchanging Instagram accounts in December, Max has spent a normal amount of time stalking your feed. That's what you do when you’re trapped inside your apartment alone because of a global health crisis, you explore the online world.

It seems like you’ve been operating the account since your university days and a lot of your posts show a side of you that’s different from the manager he knows. He learns that you play billiards competitively. You've even reached an Australian tournament. He learns that you watch NASCAR and motocross and drift racing. He learns that you know how to drive a firetruck. He learns that you like partying in LA and you took up volunteer work in the LA fire brigade around your sophomore year. He learns that you’re particularly fond of taking pictures of the skies at different times of the day and the things you’re studying. He notices that you only post group selfies or low angle blurry selfies of you. You don't take pretty pictures of just you.

The oldest post is a photo of you offering a middle finger while smiling and filling up the gas tank of a truck. You're also wearing a red sweatshirt with the letters USC written at the front and skinny ripped jeans. If you swipe right, the next photo shows a picture of you and your group of friends writing on papers on the hood of the truck. Max sees numbers and scratches and crossed out sketches. Max notices a canned beer on your other hand while you press down on your scientific calculator buttons and shakes his head. You do not change.

The latest post is a photo dump of the Abu Dhabi Grand Prix in 2019. A picture of the aerial show, grainy zoomed in pictures of the garage, selfies with the mechanics, a bathroom mirror selfie, and a blurry picture of a beer in your hand from the after party. He presses like in every post, latest to the oldest.

you: fucking stalker

max: fuck you

max: *sent a photo*

max: nice teeth by the way

you: i hate you

you: *sent a photo*

you: ya think im the only one who looks ugly with braces?

Since then, Max’s relationship with you has considerably improved. The two of you spend a lot of nights dm-ing each other on Instagram and sending each other reels.

max: SOS

you: ??

max: I THINK THE STOVE IS ON FIRE

you: the stove is supposed to have fire

max: ITS ON FIRE

You and Max sit on the floor, back against the kitchen counter, chest heaving in quick breaths, shoulders bumping against each other. You hold the fire extinguisher close to your chest and your eyes are closed and your lips are parted a little. Max observes your side profile.

You're not a categorically attractive woman. But with the way the sun rays enter Max’s kitchen window and hit your face at all the right angles, you look like someone worth missing a sunset over. Max allows himself to stare and mentally tries to convince himself that this is a very normal amount of staring at one’s manager slash friend.

He’s crossing the line that divides friendship and something unnamed.

“Do you need me to call maintenance so we can get your stove replaced?”

Max nods.

“Yes please.”

You post a new picture on Instagram after a long period of dryness. Max gets a notification. He checks it out.

The caption reads: meet my full time dog and part time boyfriend

The picture is blurry and grainy but Max can make out your face perfectly. There’s a billiard table. Max sees a person in the background. A man. He's wearing a Williams shirt.

Is that a racer? Max immediately thinks of Nicholas Latifi. You and him are around the same age. But the blurry man in the picture doesn't look like Nicholas. The hair color and the build is different. George, maybe? He’s a year younger than Max. Do you prefer your men younger? Scratch that. That’s impossible. Max knows he has a girlfriend named Carmel or Carmen or something.

max: you have a boyfriend

you: youre fast

max: when did this happen?

you: uh

you: earlier?

Max resists the urge to hurl his phone across the room.

max: details [name]

max: i need details

you: nuh uh kid you havent unlocked that level of friendship yet

you: that's friendship level 8 ur still on level 6

max: i will hunt you down and force you to tell me

max: and don't call me kid i'm one year younger than you

you: id like to see you try

max: i think u forgot im the one who gave you the apartment where u live rn

You introduce Leo to Max a month later.

Leo is a British brunette guy with a face that one would consider mid in Europe but a ten in the US. He is one of the Williams mechanics. You mention that he used to do karting as a kid and even went up to F3 but he’s decided to discontinue his racing career because he thinks engineering and the technical aspects of a formula car is far more interesting than racing.

He’s basically the complete opposite of Max.

He’s a good guy, Max can tell. He’s well-mannered, he’s calm, he knows how to treat you right. Above all else, he makes you the happiest. You have the most genuine and beautiful smile on your face when he comes into your view.

He also handles your relationship very maturely. He doesn't demand. He understands that you work for different racing teams with different jobs and that means different priorities.

The weekly IG posts are also too cute. It looks like it came out of a Pinterest board.

Max will never tell you that he spends a good hour every time you post something with Leo in it like an obsessive freak. He tries to make sense of the feeling in his chest. Something green. Something ugly. Something he can't name.

Max should be happy that you found a guy as great as Leo. But he cannot, for the life of him, be fully happy for you. He doesn't know why.

“PR told me that you received a dinner invite from Kelly Piquet,” you state, sitting down on the empty chair across from him and putting your packed lunch on the table. You carefully lay the folded clothes on the other chair. Max deduces they will be the ones he’ll be wearing for the interview scheduled in about two hours. You already sent him the list of questions in his email but he hasn't opened them yet.

“Yeah,” Max says after swallowing. “She’s been sending invites since two months ago.”

“And you left her on seen?”

Max scoffs, “I didn't leave her on seen. I just…well, I saw them late and declined them politely.”

He knows Kelly Piquet. He’s aware of the history she shared with former Red Bull Racing now Toro Rosso driver, Daniil Kvyat. Max also knows she’s the daughter of Nelson Piquet, retired Formula One champion. He thinks it's rude to take the guy’s ex-girlfriend after he’s taken his seat in Red Bull.

“She’s interested in you,” you claim, opening the tupperware and quickly saying grace before digging in.

Max is not good with dealing with women. Twenty-three years old and he’s still girlfriend-less. But he knows how to recognize people who are interested in him. A significant number of women have tried their chances with him since he began racing professionally and he may have used you as some sort of getaway driver to get him out of all the awkward situations where he has to deal with women who are interested in him.

You have a very scary resting bitch face if you try hard enough. Its efficiency in scaring off people is proven to be, well, efficient.

“Yeah, I suppose.”

“Are you interested in her?” you question.

Max thinks about it. Really thinks about it.

“Do you think it’ll be good if I get a girlfriend?” he throws you a question instead of an answer.

“You're twenty-three, man. It's about time you start doin’ somethin’ about your empty dating history.”

Max nose scrunches but doesn't say anything because it's the truth. His dating history is hilariously empty.

“What’s your opinion of Kelly?”

“Uh, cool pussy, I guess. Don't really care.”

Max rolls his eyes, “You’re so crude.”

You shrug uncaringly.

“But I don't mind who you wanna date, man. I mean, it's your life. Date who you wanna date. Live the life you wanna live. All the jazz and shedazzle.”

Max accepts the dinner invite.

The 2020 season ends with Hamilton standing at the top, officially becoming a seven-time world champion. Bottas is behind him. Verstappen, like 2019, still stands in third place. Max vows 2020 will be the last year Hamilton becomes a world champion. The team doesn't hold a big afterparty like it usually does and Max flies home to Monaco immediately.

It's been months since he's started seeing Kelly and the woman is pleasant company. Her daughter, Penelope, is the most adorable human being that ever stepped on Earth. Max loves the little bean with all his heart and he himself is surprised that he’s capable of loving a little human this much. He’s practically convinced that he’ll be a shitty father one day. He does not have a good model figure to look up to when it comes to fatherhood.

Little P, Max learns, is obsessed with crocheted things. Max sees her little bags and little hats—all crocheted. Kelly says she pays their housekeeper to make things for little Penelope because she likes them so much.

Max decides he wants to learn how to crochet. He buys the material and learns through hundreds of Youtube videos. His first masterpiece is a bag. It's white and light orange. He shows it to his mum, who questions how on Earth did her son take an interest in a hobby other than racing or anything car-related. Despite that, she compliments it and Max feels confident that you’ll like it, too, now that he’s gotten his mother’s approval.

He finishes making it by the eighteenth day of December and he calls you, hoping he has the chance to give it before you fly down to Texas for the off-season. But you already left Monaco, just the day before and are now spending the first few weeks of the break in New Zealand with Leo.

“So it's serious?” Max asks you over the phone. He stares at the dark sky in Belgium. There's no stars tonight. Only the moon and it’s looking down at him like it's mocking him. Max wonders what the sky looks like in New Zealand right now.

“Of course,” you say.

“Well then, enjoy the holidays.”

“You, too, man.”

The call ends.

2021

Max sees you enter the Red Bull hospitality. The first thing he notices is that your shoes are brand new. Same model—the black and gold YSL Opyum heels, yes he knows the name because he searched it on Google—but brand new. Your bag is also brand new and it’s not the old cream-colored tote bag with peach prints. It's a cream-colored tote bag with Van Gogh’s painting—the Starry Night—printed at the front. You show it to Max excitedly and tell him that it's from Leo, the bag and the shoes, and Max fakes a smile the whole time. When he returns to his room in the evening, he throws the crochet bag he made over December in the trash bin. Kelly sees it but she doesn't question it.

“PR suggests that you film a Tiktok.”

Max groans, throwing his head back and rolling his eyes to the back of his head.

“Tell them no.”

“Come on, it’ll be fun,” you encourage him, shaking his shoulders. “There's a lot of dance trends right now.”

“I said no, [Name].”

“Max.”

You throw your hands on your waist, looking at him pointedly with your lips pursed. Max returns the stare.

He gives up after five seconds.

“Fine.”

You huff in triumph.

“But you’re doing it with me,” Max bargains.

“Oh come on,” you throw your hands in the air.

“Now you know how it feels. Tell PR that I’m not going to film a Tiktok unless you film it with me,” Max smiles cheekily.

You're not going to film a Tiktok video with him. He knows you hate filming yourself and posting it for the public. There's a reason why you avoided cameras as if it’s the sun and you're a vampire and had all your social media accounts in private.

You pull an unexpected move and you nod your head.

“Fine.”

Max’s smile drops.

You film a Tiktok using Red Bull Racing’s official Tiktok account. A simple dance. Max does not know the title. The steps are simple and it's easy to memorize. He believes he can do this fairly easily. You don't look like you’re having fun while memorizing the dance steps but you're not overly struggling.

You film the video in three takes. When Max sees the final outcome, he cringes. His long limbs look awkward as he performs the steps despite thinking that he’s doing fine while filming it. You, on the other hand, look fine.

You look good while dancing actually. There’s a certain grace that accompanied your movements.

“You dance good,” Max comments.

“It’s the Latina in me,” you claim, raising your chin a little.

Max snorts.

You show the draft video to the PR team. Without hesitation, they scratched it.

“Why?” Max asks, brows furrowing.

“Apparently, they're too tired releasing statements that we’re not dating. They're afraid that the Tiktok video would bring back our dating rumors,” you roll your eyes. “They’ve decided to just make you do a Tiktok filter game.”

Max does the one filter where he has to solve the simple math equations projected on the screen. He has to tilt his head to the side where the right answer is placed and he needs to do it quickly.

Max is not bad at Mathematics. He’s not good at it either. He’ll say that he’s just average at it like every human being on Earth.

You sit beside him, barking him the answers before his brain can even process and perform the required operations.

“60 points. That's not good enough,” he says.

You nod, “Damn right. You're not tilting your head to the right answer fast enough.”

“Maybe you're not giving the answers quick enough.”

The video gets more than ten takes. The two of you don't stop until you get the perfect score.

Monza is a disaster. To summarize: the 53-lap race is won by Daniel Ricciardo, who has now moved to McLaren. He capitalizes on a good front-row start and the crash between Max Verstappen and Lewis Hamilton to take the race lead. Lando, Daniel’s teammate comes in second with Mercedes' Valtteri Bottas in third. Max and Lewis—DNF.

Max doesn't remember the last time he’s been that angry and the anger doubles when he sees the seven-time world champion celebrate on the tracks. Max then decides that he’s going to be more risky, especially now that he knows how safe the car is. Max is willing to risk his life for number one.

Max lies in the medical bay and he hears voices outside. Too many voices. He’ll appreciate it greatly if the voices disappear. He's too angry right now that the noise of the outside world is too much.

“Max?”

The voices disappear and it's only you he can see, he can hear, he can feel. You're everything.

You said it. His name. It sounds even better than he imagined.

“[Name].”

After making sure he’s okay, you tell Max that you wish to go to Danny and congratulate him for winning. Max grabs your hand, unwilling to let go.

“You're not his manager anymore,” Max reminds you. “You're mine.”

He’s very much aware that he sounds like a child who refuses to let his older brother borrow his favorite toy but he cannot find himself to care. Screw Daniel.

You give him a long look but follows his demands anyway, “We’re gonna congratulate him later whether you like it or not. He’s our friend and he just got P1. We’re gonna be happy for him 'cuz that's what friends do. I’ll drag your ass to his hotel room if I have to.”

Jos Verstappen is not happy. When has he ever been happy with Max anyway? He calls Max after the Monza race and proceeds to yell because that’s all he ever does with Max. He yells. Max is embarrassed that he’s twenty-three and he’s still getting yelled at by his own father.

“Your Dad’s an asshole,” you stated after he ends the call. Max knows you heard his father’s voice even though he has not put the call on loudspeaker.

“Don't talk to my Dad like that,” he reprimands, though not unkindly. “But yeah, he is.”

You snort, “You okay?”

Max lets out a shaky breath, nodding weakly.

"Yeah, I'm fine. You would think that after all this time I would get used to it but I don't know. It still makes me feel so uncomfortable and like I'm doing everything wrong even though I've been doing that for such a long time now and I've achieved so many things he asked for."

Your gaze softens and Max mentally begs that you stop looking at him like that. He does not want your pity. Pity is for the weak. Max is not weak.

You open your arms, “Rein it in, big guy.”

“What are you doing?”

“You need a hug.”

Max hesitates but he invites himself to your arms anyway. He allows himself to melt. In your arms, he feels like he's home and that he's good enough.

The breakup happens two race weekends later. Max is not dumb nor is he so emotionally indifferent that he cannot sense if a person is going through a breakup especially if that person is someone so close to him. He already knows there’s something wrong and he knows exactly what’s wrong and yet he still asks, “What's wrong?”

“Nothin’,” you say a little too quickly as if you already know that Max is going to ask the question.

“[Name],” his fingers circle around your wrist. “It's not nothing. Your eyes are red. Have you been crying?”

He wants you to open up. He wants you to say something. He wants you to share the heartache you carry so it won't feel heavy on your shoulders. He wants to be someone who’ll carry your problems with you when the world feels too big and you too small.

You sigh shakily, forcing a polite smile. Your hand comes up to squish Max’s cheek in between your palms and Max’s brows rise slightly at the action. Your hands feel cold and they’re trembling slightly and Max wants to point it out, but he sees how your lips wobble and his mind just blanks, “It's not important. You only have one thing to think about and that is to win. You hear me?”

Max considers marching to the Williams Racing livery and demanding for Leo Stark but he chooses not to. You won't want him to, anyway.

Max never realizes how horrifying blood is until he sees it dripping down the side of your head. He watches as your face changes from shock to realization to absolute anger. It’s like watching you transform from human to a rabid animal who wants to shed blood. At first, he tries to pull you away and calm you down. When he sees the girl’s boyfriend appear, Max joins the fight. No man is allowed to hit you. Not on his watch.

The higher-ups are not the happiest when they learn of what happened. The PR team is having a field day as well. Someone captured the event in video and posted it online. Max has been given a script for the video he’ll have to do to save his image but it’s written differently. Different in a way that the way the words are arranged feels odd to him unlike the way you write your scripts for Max. You write the scripts as if Max is the one who writes them. You write the script in a way Max will write them. Because you know him enough to know what kind of words he wants to use and how he’ll phrase things. You choose words that are easy on his tongue and you structure the sentences so that he can memorize them easily.

Helmut is the one who says, “She should leave the team.”

“If you fire her, I’m leaving,” Max decides.

Christian narrows his eyes at him, “You won't dare.”

“Try me,” he challenges. “I am willing to pay millions to leave if she leaves.”

The other teams want him, Max knows. They know he’s rising to stardom, a racer who can stand equal to Lewis Hamilton in the right time. Red Bull is too afraid of spitting out their star now. Not when Max is already giving Lewis Hamilton a big run for his money this year. Not when Max just showed the world that he’s capable of more than just being third place.

The wretched Hamilton fan decides to sue and Max calls upon his mother’s help to find the best lawyers to fight for you. Sophie willingly helps him.

Max is going to protect you, like you always do to him.

#max verstappen x reader #f1 x reader #formula 1 #formula one #max verstappen #max verstappen x you #f1 imagines #manager!reader #mv33 x you #mv1 x reader #mv33 x reader #mv1 #mv33

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sweatervest-obsessed · 8 months

Text

You're Keeping Me Down

Pairing: Spencer Reid x Reader (she/her)

WC: ~5.8k

TW: mentions of trauma, mentions of Maeve, kissing, previous relationships, swearing, alcohol, so much crying, bad decisions, girlbossing

A/N: ayo....angsty teehee. I hope y'all like it! It's a sequel to Dedicated to New Lovers and was inspired mainly by Sara Bareilles's Gravity, some Harry Styles, and other sad songs. I hope y'all enjoy it!! I really do love reading all of your comments, and tags, and feedback because it makes me so happy to know you guys are enjoying the writing!! <3

“You may not control all the events that happen to you, but you can decide not to be reduced by them.” ~Maya Angelou

Something always brought you back to Doctor Spencer Reid. No matter how hard you tried, no matter how much you fought it, something about the universe could not keep you away from him for too long.

It was like the two of you were attached at opposite ends of a string, always pulling you towards one another, ignoring whatever you had been feeling beforehand.

There was nothing you could do to escape him. You had tried traversing the globe, studying in Greece and Turkey, or taking vacations in the most remote villages of China; you had even done a two-week expedition traveling to Antarctica. But somehow, some way, Spencer Reid stayed in the back of your mind.

Sometimes, it was like he was right next to you. You could still feel him next to you in your bed, or if you were alone in your car, your hand was absently reaching toward the passenger seat, only to feel the leather and not his leg.

Maybe it was because all of those stupid little facts he had spouted to you were resting in the back of your mind, popping up when you’d come across anything he would have told you about.

It was something you missed. He would just ramble on about anything to you, watching the joy on his face as he continued to speak, so grateful to have an audience, to have someone who cared. But you’d have to remind yourself that Spencer chose her as his audience instead of you.

Her.

The guilt of Maeve’s death followed you around more than Spencer did. At first, it was anything to do with therapists. The thought of choosing someone to speak to outside of your circle was a betrayal you had felt, and you couldn’t bring yourself to do the same. Then it was your distrust of your friends, watching as they became less and less frequent in your life.

Work was all-consuming. You knew this fact well. Being one of the top profilers in the FBI meant that news of your transfer went fast, and the job offers came even quicker. But you decided to take some time off to rediscover the girl you once knew, someone outside her job.

The BAU was simply your life for the past eight years. You worked at the BAU, you dated inside of the BAU, and your friends were all within the BAU–It was honestly a joke that it all had decided to come crumbling down once you felt secure in your life, in your job, in your relationship.

You had filed the paperwork that allowed you to take two months of paid leave, not to leave the department. Your social media suddenly became filled with images of Ancient Greek monuments, Italian Vineyards, the French and Swiss Alps, and cities you once only visited in your wildest dreams.

Escaping reality was the best way to rediscover who you are. And so you tried.

When you returned from your two months, you had walked into the BAU bullpen and straight to Hotch’s office. Your skin was tanner, and your hair was a bit lighter from all of the sun. You were suddenly this confident woman again, but you weren’t who you were before, making you nearly unrecognizable.

“Y/N, please come in.”

You smiled warmly at Hotch, giving him a quick hug.

“You look good. How were your travels?”

You smiled and leaned against the wall, not wanting to sit since that meant you would be here longer than you wanted.

“It was everything I needed it to be, Hotch .” You nodded to the file on his desk with your name on it. “I take it Garcia ‘accidentally’ discovered my file and decided to drop it off?”

Hotch sighed and opened the file, looking over at you. “Of course she did. I thought you were just transferring after your leave; I didn’t know you were leaving the Bureau entirely.”

You nodded, a sad smile making its way onto your face.

Hotch looked at you, replicating the same sad smile.

“I wanted to tell you in person since I didn’t want you to find out via paperwork, but I should have known to come to your office first and then file it instead of filing it on my way to your office.”

A soft chuckle passed through Hotch’s lips as he nodded. “We’re going to miss you more than before, Y/N.”

“I won't be gone forever, Hotch. You can’t get rid of me that easily.”

“I know.” He rounded the desk, giving you a quick hug, arm on your shoulder. “You have my number.”

You gave him a quick smile, nodding, “Don’t worry, Jack will still be getting weekly updates about my travels, and expect a box of goodies occasionally. I have to uphold my reigning title of the coolest aunt ever.”

As you left Hotch’s office, you didn’t notice Spencer at the coffee station. You didn’t see as he watched you quickly drop a note off on Emily’s desk and another on Derek’s desk before stepping into the elevator for the last time for the next two years.

You didn’t notice the heartbreak in his eyes, and you didn’t notice the fact that he had overheard as you told Hotch you weren’t coming back to the FBI at all.

But somehow, you found yourself back in that same elevator, visitor badge clipped to the new dress you had received as a gift from a friend during your month-long stay in India last year. The fabric draped across your body, highlighting how beautiful your curves were, and the colors brought out this newfound radiance in your skin, your eyes, your smile...

Color was the newest development in your life. The BAU meant that everything was in professional shades of blue, black, white, or maybe a subdued purple or green if you felt risky. But suddenly, your wardrobe burst through the rainbow as you experimented with patterns and shades, basking in this newfound joy beyond the world of suits.

Eighteen months of experimenting–with life, with colors, with places you called home, with love.

You had two brief “love affairs” as Garcia lovingly called them. One was only two weeks long, but the other was a few months. Yet both were missing something special and could barely converse with you. Maybe that was how Spencer felt. And the sex wasn’t all that great either.

And yet, after Eighteen months, an award, four nominations, a cat, a mediocre short-term relationship, and one groundbreaking dissertation that led to a Ph.D. later, you found yourself back in that damned elevator.

You inhaled sharply as you heard the tiny ding, doors opening up to a sight that made your stomach twist. It was truly bittersweet to be back, to visit the place that once carried everything in your life, and to have it be so foreign to you.

But what was not so foreign was how one Derek Morgan looked up as the door opened and his eyes filled to the brim with light.

“Well, well, well, look who it is.” He dropped his file on his desk and met you in the middle of the side aisle of the bullpen, pulling you into a bone-crushing hug. “My woman.” He muttered into your hair, giving you an extra squeeze before pulling away slightly.

“What’s up, sexy.” You laughed, thrilled to hear he hadn’t changed too much while you were away.

“I’m sexy? Have you seen yourself recently?” He laughed, and you gave him a twirl, eager to show off one of your favorite dresses. “And where did you get this? Wait, wait, let me guess.”

You pursed your lips, failing to hide the smile that was beaming across your face.

“Was it your time in Taiwan? No no…Pakistan?”

“So close. India. Maybe next time, champ.” You patted his arm, turning your head at the gasp behind me.

“Do my eyes deceive me, or is that Doctor Y/N Y/L/N, world traveler extraordinaire?”

“JJ, you saw me three days ago.”

JJ pulled you into a hug. “Yeah, over Facetime,” she grumbled, not even trying to pretend she was upset at the sight of you in person. “You seriously have to stop sending Henry so much stuff.”

“Some of it is for the other one, too.” You muttered to her, knowing she wasn’t fully public with her pregnancy at the BAU just yet.

“I’ll be right back, I promise, I just have to say hi to Hotch first.” You placed your hands on their arms, turning towards Hotch’s office. As you went to knock on the door, it opened, leaving you face to face with the only person you weren’t ready to confront just yet.

“Hi.” He breathed out.

And fuck you, he looked so good.

“Hi, Spencer.”

You watched as a wave of emotion rippled across his face. His name almost tasted weird in your mouth, not something you’ve often said in the two years apart.

“I’ll, um..” He moved to step out of the way, letting you maneuver into Hotch’s office.

But you had also tried to move, causing you and Spencer to almost collide, causing his hand to barely grace your waist. A spark flew through your skin at the thought of his touch, causing goosebumps up and down your body.

You both muttered an apology, eyes not leaving the other until you quickly moved into Hotch’s office, causing him to move back, still watching as you closed the door in his face.

While you spoke to Hotch, catching up, Spencer was down in the bullpen at his desk, barely even trying to move them away from the windows.

JJ and Derek stood around his desk, looking from the office to Spencer and back again.

“She’s back.” He said simply when Kate approached them, wondering why they were all standing around, staring at Hotch’s office.

“Who?” Kate crossed her arms, looking between the agents, hoping for an answer.

Spencer said your name for the first time in a very long time. And it was almost as if his brain whirred to life, like some part of him had been dormant for a long time.

“Doctor.”

Spencer gave Derek a weird look. “What?”

“It’s Doctor Y/N Y/L/N now, Pretty Boy.”

Spencer let his mouth fall into a small oh, letting his mind sink deeper and deeper into the pit of you.

When you had originally left, Spencer decided to try and ignore you. It didn’t work, but he wouldn’t seek you out purposefully. He never looked up your name and tried to steer clear of the conversations involving you. But he wondered why you had never mentioned wanting to get a doctorate beforehand. He would have remembered something like that. He should have remembered something like that. ______________________________________________________________

The thought of Spencer’s fingers on your waist was the only thing you could think about for the rest of the day. Your skin hadn’t stopped tingling, and suddenly you wanted to drown in his touch, let his hands roam over your body and— “Stop it.” You said out loud as you put in your earrings.

Your mind wasn’t playing far.

“What did you say, sweetheart?”

“Nothing, just talking to myself!” You called back, sighing as you smoothed out the front of the dress you had changed into.

The team had decided to throw you a welcome-back party that night, generously hosted by David Rossi. And since they had all wanted an excuse to get dressed up, you gave them that much, meaning you had to dawn heels and a touch of makeup to accentuate the features you wanted. It also meant you got to pull out another stunning dress you had bought.

Celebrating your doctorate, which you completed a year early, you had flown to Milan with Emily Prentiss and decided to go shopping, which is how you ended up with the current dress you were wearing.

It fits you in all the right places, showing off just enough cleavage to be tasteful but maybe tempt something a bit more. You wondered if Spencer would like—

“God, I forgot how hot you look in that dress.”

“Emily Prentiss, I could kiss you on the mouth.”

Emily laughed and looped her arm through yours, staring at the two of you in the mirror.

“Thank you for flying in on such short notice.” You whispered, unable to take your eyes off of the reflection staring back at you.

“We can call the whole thing off right now…”

You shook your head and smiled at her. “It’s for me. And I really want some of Rossi’s cooking right about now. Especially now that I can compare my worldly experiences with the Italian Masterchef himself.” You laughed, causing Emily to laugh with you.

“Let's get going, yeah?”

The ride to Rossi’s house on the outskirts of Washington D.C. made for a relaxing drive, filled with updates from your best friend about each other’s lives, even though it had only been a month since you had seen each other last.

“I think you’re being perfectly reasonable, hun.”

“You’re saying that because all I do is cry these days,” you grumbled, kissing the head of the black cat in your lap.

Emily laughed and took a sip of her wine. “Or maybe I just know that you need a change of scenery. You’ve dedicated your entire life to the BAU and now you need to explore the entire rest of the world.”

“I think you just want to go to Greece with me.”

“You know how much I love Mamma Mia….”

You cracked a smile and picked up your glass. “Maybe Em, I’m not sure…I just…”

Emily watched as you looked up, trying to keep the tears from your eyes.

“I know he’s not worth the tears,” you mumbled, but you exhaled slowly. “It’ll just hit me sometimes.”

She stayed quiet, watching as you slowly worked through whatever was happening in your head.

“It’s like he’s right next to me sometimes. I…It’s like sometimes my own head is against me for not talking to him. I heard a song the other day, and I immediately turned to tell him something about it and–It’s like he’s ruling over my mind—” You huffed angrily. “I feel like I’m not making any sense–god.” You downed your wine and placed the glass on the table. “Maybe I’m just meant to wallow and drink wine and be completely useless for the rest of my life…past my prime, past my worth. I was so—I was so fucking sure he was the one…Like there's this strong attachment to my chest and I’m connected to him for eternity, regardless of whether he loves me or not.”

Emily pulled you into her arms while you cried, rubbing your back.

“You are so much more than him, hun. You will go out in the world, figure out who you are again, and stand so tall, just how you’re supposed to.”

“So tall.” Emily looked at you as she parked the car in Rossi’s driveway.

“Just the way I’m supposed to be.” You whispered, looking over at her, smiling. ______________________________________________________________

You’ve been to Rossi’s more times than you could ever admit, but it managed to take your breath away every single time. After his first wife had passed away, he had put in a garden near the edge of his backyard, providing beautiful color for you to look at from the porch.

Somehow, you always had a half-full glass, managing to have someone always get you a new drink when you seemed low.

You managed to talk to Jack and Henry, telling them all about the wonders of the world you had seen, then being pulled away by Garcia to discuss that brief love affair you had in Argentina, which then led to telling Derek about your time in England, studying for your doctorate.

Gratefully, you excused yourself when Rossi announced that dinner had been served, leading you to the tables set up in the backyard, filled to the brim with all your favorite foods. He had simply done too much.

Dinner was filled with smiles, laughs, and chatter about the ‘good ol days’ and the newer memories being made. You had become acquainted with Kate Callahan, Emily’s replacement. She seemed nice enough, but you both were hesitant of one another.

Spencer was sitting across the table from you. The two of you would catch glances at one another, passing moments where you couldn’t help but notice the way the wind ruffled his hair or the way the garden’s fairy lights reflected in his eyes.

“So, what brings you back to Washington,” Hotch asks you the question every person at the table has been dying to hear the answer to.

“Oh! Well…” You blushed slightly and shrugged. “It’s not that big of a deal, but I was just offered a position at Georgetown as an adjunct professor. If I take it, I’ll teach classes for at least the next semester. That is if I like it more than King’s College in London..”

The table erupted into congratulations, ending with a toast from Rossi.

You all raised your glass in “Salut”, and took a sip from your drink, but you couldn't help but look at Spencer, who was already looking at you.

Excusing yourself from the table, you went inside quickly, walking towards the kitchen sink. You ran your hands under the cool water before splashing it across your face.

“Y/n…”

There it was. The moment you had been dreading. The two of you were alone, no one else to buffer you, no one else to take your arm and drag you to the dance floor.

“Spencer.” You turned around, your body leaning against the sink. God, you felt so small, so unable to watch yourself.

“That’s a–that’s a beautiful dress.”

“Milan.” You mused, fiddling with the ring on your pinky finger, unable to look away from the man before you.

“Ah.”

The silence hurt. Watching the two of you must have been painful because you could feel it. You once told this man everything about yourself; he once knew how your day went by one singular sigh. He could have told you what you were in the mood to eat for breakfast just by how you woke up.

But now, you didn’t even know what to say.

“Georgetown.”

You nodded and looked down at your nails, seeming that they felt like a safer bet to look at. “Yeah, uh…should be fun. Can I–” You looked up at him. “Can I ask you something?”

Spencer’s head nodded, and you pursed your lips, looking out the window and watching as your friends and family all laughed together and ate together.

“When I was…um.” You cleared your throat, willing away the tears that had instantly sprung to your eyes. “When I was packing up all my stuff two years ago…I found the…W-Was it for her or…” You braced yourself for impact. Waiting for him to respond.

Spencer’s eyes glassed over, and his mouth formed a small oh. He fiddled with his ring finger and looked out past you through the window. He couldn’t bear to watch the travesty he was about to cause.

“You.”

“Oh.” Fuck this. Fuck. You had sobbed over finding it for three hours while packing and then sobbed again as you moved out. Somehow, hearing it out loud was worse.

He was going to propose to you.

Spencer Reid had wanted to marry you. And god, that hurt. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with you, and then he told you that he wasn’t in love with you anymore.

You didn’t care if you were reserving a spot in hell for yourself by damning an already dead woman. Her death meant Spencer could feel an ounce of the grief you just dug up. A sliver of the pain.

Suddenly, you felt his hand on your jaw, a thumb on your cheek, wiping away the tear that had escaped your eye. “I am so sorry.” He whispered.

And that broke the damn.

He pulled you into his arms, and you let him, surrounding yourself with Spencer. Letting the smell of his cologne wash over you, letting him squeeze you tightly like he used to so long ago. The feeling of his chest rising and falling gave you such comfort that your brain was screaming at you to run away from it. You had finally built all your walls back up; you felt as if you could finally exist, but here in his arms, the world was silent.

In his arms, you felt fragile; you felt so small. All of the strength you had was gone. And it felt so fucking good to not have to be the strong one, the person with the brave face.

“I’m so sorry.”

His lips kissed your hair, arm running up and down your back, trying so desperately to bring back that sense of comfort he once could provide you. And it was fucking working. God, why was it working. Why did it feel good? Why couldn’t you pull away?

“Spence…” You mumbled into his shirt, that had been stained by your tears. You shook your head. “I can’t…We can’t…”

He pulled away from you slightly, eyes saddened, and you couldn’t tell if it was because you were rejecting him or because he still loved you just as much as you loved him.

“I love you.”

You pulled away from the kiss, hand on his chest, smiling brightly at him. “What?”

It was the most beautiful you had ever looked, Spencer decided.

Your lips were puffy from how much the two of you were kissing, hair messy from his hands running through it, eyes wide with just as much love repeated in his own.

“I love you.” He repeated, smiling beyond measure.

“Say it again.” You mumbled, yanking him back down to your lips, kissing him again and again.

“I love you so much, y/n y/l/n.”

You pulled away, laughter filling up the entire room. Pure joy echoed and bounced off of the walls.

Spencer bit his lip, pulling away slightly. You hadn’t set it back.

“Spence…” You cupped both cheeks with your hand, thumb rubbing over his bottom lip. “I love you too.”

Just saying it caused you to giggle, full of love and pure joy.

Loving anyone else would have caused you to gag–it still does.

But the memory makes you shudder, causing you to step out of his arms, quickly wiping away your tears or trying your best to.

The thought of love made you want to rip your head off. It made you want to sink to the bottom of the ocean and never resurface.

Spencer said your name, making you shake your head.

“You don’t love me Spencer. You haven’t for a long time.” The admission caused a resurgence of tears, making him take a step towards you. “No, Spencer, no.”

You shook your head again. “I-I can’t…you hurt me. You…you left me for someone you had never even met. She was–god.”

“I never loved her the way I love you.”

“No.” You whispered, chest heaving. “No, no. You can’t..fuck. Don’t say that shit–why would you say that shit to me.”

“Because it's the truth.” He said softly, too calmly for you to just ignore it.

“How can you stand there and say that to me? You don’t mean it—You can’t..” The past two year’s worth of therapy, of moving on, of becoming your own, came crumbling down because fuck, you didn’t know what to believe anymore. “How can you just…You don’t fucking mean it.”

“I know you don’t believe me, but I–”

“Don’t believe you?” You laughed at that, tears mixing with the stabs in your chest, dropping past your mouth as it laughed and laughed and laughed. “Then why did you fucking leave me. Why–Why–Why did you tell me to move out and…God Spencer, why did you come here tonight.”

You were almost hysterical at that point; all Spencer could do was watch. He couldn't touch you because every time he tried, you’d move away or lose some part of your mind even more.

“What about me was so–so–so, so boring, so understimulating to you, so desperately ignorant that you told me you didn’t love me anymore, that you kicked me out of our home, that made you reconsider wanting to marry me. And you know, I get it, I do. You found someone on your level intellectually, I get it. But still, I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life–what did she have that I didn’t, huh? What about her made her more appealing to talk to than me? ”

“She…”

“She what, Spencer.”

“I wasn’t–”

“No.” You were leaning back against the counter, trying to gain some semblance of yourself back from the spiral you were on. “Don’t lie to me. Don’t give me some ‘unworthy’ thought process because maybe you’re fucking eidetic memory doesn’t remember all of the conversations we used to have, but I fucking do. I couldn’t cut them out of my skin if I tried, and god did I try.”

Spencer stared at you, dumbfounded. He didn’t know what to do; he couldn’t function. All he could do was watch the pieces of you shatter all over, reliving the exact moments you were, but instead of being able to make it right, all he could watch as you closed yourself off more and more.

“Y-you tried?”

“God, Spencer, did you even look at me during those months.”

“I…” He just looked at you, really looked at you. “I couldn’t.”

You scoffed, wiping away the tears on your cheeks, and straightened out your dress.

“The only fucking thing I know is that if I don’t walk away now, then I will hate myself for the rest of my life for letting you talk me back into loving you again. And the worst part is, I still do. I don’t think I could ever love anyone again because of how much love I have for you, after everything we had been through, but—”

He kissed you.

Or you kissed him.

You weren’t sure.

But all you knew was that his hands were on your waist, and your hands were on his cheeks, and his lips were touching yours, and everything felt so right within the world, and your body was against his and just–

“Fuck.” You quickly pulled away, both of you panting, staring at one another, unsure about what happened.

You two just stared at one another for what felt like forever until you heard Emily call your name from the porch. You took another step away, back against the kitchen counter, smoothing your hair and crossing your arms.

Emily walked in and eyed the two of you, misreading the tension as something more antagonistic from before than what had actually happened.

“Uh, Rossi made you a cake…” She looked between the both of you, watching as you nodded at her, standing up fully. You followed behind her, sparing one last look at Spencer, who was just looking at where you were standing.

______________________________________________________________

“Uh, hi, sorry, could you point me toward Agent Hotchner’s Office.”

The person whose shoulder you tapped turned around and gave you one of the most beautiful smiles you had ever seen.

“Well hello, gorg–”

“Derek. Don’t be rude.” The woman next to Derek had elbowed him in the ribs, preventing more HR training for the both of them. “Hi. You must be Y/n. I’m Penelope, and that’s Derek, don’t mind him.” She looped her arm through yours and started to lead you towards the little staircase on the side of the room.

“Hotch’s office is right up here.”

“I–Thank you, Penelope.” You smiled at her.

“I’ve read your file.” She whispered, smiling back at you. “I’m really excited to work with you because you are one impressive woman, let me tell you.”

You blushed slightly, about to respond, but Penelope had knocked on Hotch’s door, causing a voice to tell you to “come in.”

“Welcome to the team.” She pulled away, leaving you to enter Aaron Hotchner’s office for the first of many times.

You opened the door and smiled at the man at the desk. “Hi, I’m–”

“Y/n Y/l/n, You have a very impressive resume. Please, take a seat.” He stood to shake your hand, gesturing to the chair before his desk. You quickly scanned the photos along the walls, the books on his shelves.

“Everyone knows who I am before I know who they are.” You laughed slightly, taking the seat.

“Yes, well, We’re all very excited to have you join us here.”

The memory of your first day hit you like a wave when Aaron pulled your seat out for you back at the table outside. You stalled for only a second, but it was long enough for any of the various profilers at the table to notice something was off.

You smiled through the speeches, and you laughed at the jokes and cried at the sweetness of your friends, but you were somewhere far away, dreaming about the moments that led you up to where you were.

“And that is why I am glad to have you back because clearly, the universe respects you enough to let us all come together to celebrate the return of our Y/n.” You raised your glass and cheer with Rossi, standing up to hug him.

“Now.” You smiled at all of the faces that looked up at you. “Let us eat cake!!”

The table erupted and while Rossi cut slices for each of you, you sat back down, listening to what Garcia was telling you, but your eyes kept darting to the person directly across from you.

You could feel his eyes any time they were on you, and you knew they were fleeting glances, but it was just too much.

“Want to take a walk with me through the rose garden?”

You nodded, standing up and accepting Derek’s arm, letting him lead you towards the garden, enjoying the fresh air and the sudden weight off of your shoulders. You couldn’t feel his gaze anymore but you knew he was still looking at you.

“What’s next on your list of adventures.” Derek looked at you, watching the millions of emotions race across your face before settling on a smile and a shrug.

“I’m not sure yet. You know about Georgetown, but I don’t know about D.C. anymore….”

Derek nodded and pulled out the chair at the small wire table. It sat under a trellis filled with gorgeously bloomed roses and baby’s breath. The smell was almost overwhelmingly fragrant.

You gratefully took it and watched as he went and sat across from you.

“You looked like you got a bit overwhelmed back there.”

“What happened to not profiling me like I asked?”

Derek chuckled, “It’s not profiling if it’s written on your sleeve.”

You sighed and looked out at some of the flowers. “I don't…”

He let you work through it in your mind, just glad to keep you company while you figured your shit out.

Eventually, you spoke up. “It’s weird.”

Derek hummed in agreement.

“I don’t know. Just. I felt like I was doing so well, and I was becoming my own person, figuring out who I was, and then I come back here, and suddenly I’m back to being that twenty-two-year-old kid who breezed her way through the academy. It’s like I did everything in my power to end up where I did, and then the universe told me I fucked up and should have done something else.”

“I don’t think you fucked up in the slightest. Do you know how many people you saved?”

You went to brush off his comment, but Derek didn’t let you get a word in.

“I know your entire world got completely fucked over, but you were meant to be in BAU. You were supposed to be there. I cannot think of my life without you, I know Garcia can’t, and I know Emily would tear you a new one if you even brought up to her the possibility that you being in her life was a mistake.”

“Yeah, and now I’m thirty, with a doctorate and a cat, and no idea what to do with my life.”

“But you also just spent the last two years seeing the world–how many countries did you go to…”

You pursued your lips, trying to count in your head. A blush spread across your face as you mumbled the number.

“Sorry, wanna repeat that for me?”

“At least fifty…”

“That’s what I thought.” A very proud look crossed Derek's face, smiling at you.

You looked down at your left hand, fiddling with your ring finger. No matter how hard Derek tried, no matter how much you enjoyed his company and the way he was keeping your ego healthily inflated, you couldn’t stop thinking about the fact that you could have been married–you could have been happy.

“He told me when he bought it.”

Your eyes snapped to Derek’s, and he looked at you with such soft eyes.

That was something you had always loved about Derek. No matter how much he cared for you, no matter how gently he was being, he never treated you like a piece of glass.

“He, uh, I was the only one he told.”

You nodded, waiting for him to continue.

“When did you find it?”

“When I was moving my things out of the apartment.”

“Damn…”

“Yeah.” You laughed. It was colder than usual but still antagonistic at the whole situation. “I…um. I found it on the last day when I was cleaning out my bedside table. He knew I never went into the bottom drawer because I literally never kept anything in there, but I checked because, you know, I was asked to leave, and…there it was. It was just…It’s ironic, really, how perfect it was, too. They say that if a guy can’t get the ring right, then he’s not the one for you, but no one preps you on if it’s the perfect ring, perfect size, but you had just broken up two days before you found it…”

Derek nodded, letting you ramble.

“I feel like I’m being weighed down by a million different things, yet they’re all him.”

“What are you going to do about it?”

“I have no fucking idea.”

"Sometimes good things fall apart, so that better things can fall together." ~ Marilyn Monroe

Part 3

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Tags: @lilrios-world @gubzgirl @mynameisnotokay @hereforfun22-blog @yoursarahg @mega-kittyglitter-1 @onlyspence

#x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid x you #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid angst #spencer reid fanfic #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid #criminal minds fanfic #criminal minds fanfiction #criminal minds x reader #spencer reid x fem!reader #spencer reid x reader fluff #spence reid x reader angst

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alphynix · 5 days

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Wukongopterus lii was a pterosaur that lived during the mid-to-late Jurassic, about 164 million years ago, in what is now northeastern China. It was fairly small, with a wingspan of around 70cm (~2'4"), and showed a mixture of anatomical features in-between the long-tailed short-headed 'rhamphorhynchoids' and the short-tailed long-headed pterodactyloids.

Its long jaws were lined with tiny pointed conical teeth, suggesting it was adapted for primarily feeding on insects. It also had a very slight overbite, with the first two pairs of teeth in its upper jaw protruding almost vertically over the end of its lower jaw.

As a fully mature adult it would have had a low bony crest on its head that probably supported a larger keratinous structure – similar to other known wukongopterids – although the exact size and shape is unknown since the one confirmed specimen of Wukongopterus is missing that particular part of its skull. Another fossil nicknamed "Ian" may represent a second individual of this species, showing a different crest arrangement further forward on its snout, so I've made two different versions of today's image to reflect that possibility.

———

NixIllustration.com | Tumblr | Patreon

References:

Cheng, Xin, et al. "New information on the Wukongopteridae (Pterosauria) revealed by a new specimen from the Jurassic of China." PeerJ 4 (2016): e2177. https://doi.org/10.7717/peerj.2177/supp-1

Garland, Nick. “Ian the Wukongopterid.” Pteros, https://www.pteros.com/pterosaurs/ian-the-wukongopterid.html

Wang, Xiaolin, et al. "An unusual long-tailed pterosaur with elongated neck from western Liaoning of China." Anais da Academia Brasileira de Ciências 81 (2009): 793-812. https://doi.org/10.1590/S0001-37652009000400016

Wikipedia contributors. “Wukongopterus.” Wikipedia, 8 Dec. 2023, https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Wukongopterus

XuanYu Zhou 周炫宇. Anatomy, Systematics and Paleopathology of Pterosaurs: insights based on new specimens from China. 2023. Hokkaido University, PhD thesis. https://doi.org/10.14943/doctoral.k1560

#science illustration #paleontology #paleoart #palaeoblr #wukongopterus #wukongopteridae #monofenestrata #pterosaur #art

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fernandopiastri28 · 1 day

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stop to smell the flowers ❀ - oscar piastri

Oscar is so incredulously smitten for his girlfriend to the point he doesn't even know how to express it with words- so he does it through actions and gifts. ~ (self indulgent and SO short)

“Baby?” A soft echo of his voice vibrated through the eerily quiet apartment, not a single noise besides his shoes scuffling against the carpet. Oscar set down his bag on the kitchen counter, toeing his shoes off and kicking them to the side.

He waited again for a response from his girlfriend- but to no avail. He raised his voice slightly higher this time, moving closer towards the shut door of their bedroom. Keeping his noise down, Oscar pressed down on the handle of the door, attempting to keep the screeching creak to a minimum so as to disturb her, or wake her if she was currently sleeping.

To his unsurprise, his girlfriend was curled up in bed, her head resting at the very bottom of her pillow. Her bottom lip was puffed out over the top one, lashes sweeping over the tops of her cheeks. The quiet whistle of breathing filled the room, cutting through the silence from a lack of a fan going in the background.

She had her arms wrapped around a teddy bear, pressed into her chest. It was a small fluffy koala, adorned in a custom made McLaren jersey, a black 81 printed on the back. She’d named it Oscar, the teddy she held close to her each night when he was away.

The real Oscar was returning home to Australia and home to his girlfriend after the Miami grand prix, almost a whole month passing since he’d seen her last on the night after the Japanese grand prix, when he’d brought her to the airport to go back to Melbourne, then flying off to China himself.

Due to her being in her last year of university, her availability to go to every race- or even just most- was limited. She came when she could, but it was more often than not that she was at home, cheering him on from the comfort of her own bed or the couch. They'd gotten semi used to the unfortunately forced long distance relationship they now had, but it didn't make it any bit easier each time they had to part. At times, it felt as if each time he had to leave was just more difficult then the last.

She wasn’t expecting him to come back so soon, and nor did he. He fully thought his flight would be the following day and he got comfortable with the idea of a cosy night at the hotel- maybe a call to her and a movie. It wasn’t until Mark had offered the option for him to fly home just a mere four hours after the race ended- he didn’t waste a minute packing his suitcase back up and boarding the flight.

Oscar peeled back the covers on his side of the bed, making sure as to not disturb her in the process. He slid his shirt off over his head, opening up the closet door to find his favourite shirt. Even after a few minutes of searching both the hangers and the drawers without a sight of it, he looked over at his shoulder, smirking when he saw that it was the shirt his girlfriend had chosen for bed today.

Oscar settled for just a plain white top, his ‘OP’ logo imprinted over the left breast. He unbuttoned his blue jeans, allowing them to pool around his ankles until he stepped out, tossing them into the laundry basket. Now dressed in only his boxers and a far more comfortable shirt then the previous ever so itchy team polo shirt, he climbed into bed.

He wrapped his arms around her waist, resting his chin on her shoulder as he breathed in the sweet, floral shampoo that filled his senses. It was his favourite smell- it smelt of home. He nuzzled further into her neck, pressing a few chaste, open mouth kisses to her soft skin.

Holding back from any serious marking, Oscar mouthed at her shoulder, dragging his tongue gently over the fabric on her shoulder, letting his teeth rub against it. “I missed you, beautiful,” He whispered, kissing up along her neck.

She whined, unconsciously twisting around in the bed to be facing toward him. He took the opportunity to press a few consecutive kisses to her lips, enough to settle the desperation for contact that bubbled hot in his stomach.

Her eyes fluttered, looking as if they would open. “Hi princess,” He tucked some of her hair back behind her ear, nuzzling back into said spot to re-immerse himself in the flowery scent.

“Osccc,” Her voice was thick and groggy with sleep, her eyes open by mere slits in order to block out as much light as possible. “You’re back!” She mumbled with as much enthusiasm as possible while still being mostly asleep.

“Mhmm,” A grin splayed across his mouth, burying his face further into the crook of her neck. “You smell so good,” He kissed the junction of her shoulder, leaving his lips there for a few more seconds.

“Why didn’t you tell me you’d be back so soon? I would’ve stayed up,” She cupped his face in her hands, her fingers temperate against his chilly and rosy cheeks. Oscar gave a weak shrug, ignoring the question in lieu for kissing her more to warm himself up.

“It’s okay- I like this,” Oscar mumbled against her bottom lip, kissing her again and again until his jaw physically ached. “I got you a present,”

She tilted her head back, her left hand still positioned on his jaw- her thumb rubbing over his cheek. “Oh really?” She whispered, giggling as he met her question with a dopey grin.

“In the kitchen,” He rolled away from her, stumbling awkwardly back out of the bed. “C’mon, I promise it’s worth getting out of bed for,” He reassured her when he saw the displeased and unconvinced look on her face.

Begrudgingly, she followed suit- stumbling out of the bedroom door while wiping sleep from her eyes. She clung to Oscar, wrapping both of her arms around one of his, as the bottom of her sweatpants dragged along the wooden floorboard.

“It’s like a welcome home present, but for you- not me,” He handed her a bouquet of an assortment of orange flowers- begonias, marigolds, tulips, poppies. Anything that matched the same papaya colour that she wore across her torso.

Her heart pounded at the gesture, looking up at Oscar with the most fond expression. “Thank you, Oz,” She wrapped one of her arms around his waist, hugging him tightly as her other hand worked on holding the bundle of flowers. “Thank you so much, I love them,” She couldn’t help the smile that stretched from one ear to the other on her face, her body alight with elation.

“Of course, baby,” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head, rubbing her back with the hand that held her just as tight as she was holding him. “I think you deserved it with how you’ve been working,”

She scoffed slightly, looking up at him with an incredulous expression. “Me working hard? What about you, Mr ‘Four Podiums in Your Second Year in Formula one?’,”

Oscar gave another mindless shrug, laughing at her comment, “What, like it’s hard?” He teased.

#oscar piastri x original character #oscar piastri #oscar piastri x you #oscar piastri x reader #fluff #f1 x reader #f1 2024 #formula one #formula1 #mclaren #mclaren f1

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sgstories123 · 6 months

Text

Eliza's Cruise Adventure

“Can we buy you a drink, miss?”

Eliza looked up at the three men. They were wearing board shorts of loud, gaudy colours. All were topless, showing off their tanned, muscular bodies and chiseled abs. These young punks were most probably in their twenties, thought Eliza.

“Well, if you can get me a Passion Spritz, that will be nice.” Eliza smiled. She had never said no to free drinks. She let her robe slid off a little further, giving the men a good look of her pink bikini-clad body. She was aware that her mum who was lying on the reclining next to her was giving her a disapproving look. But Eliza is no longer a little girl who needed her mother’s approval.

Eliza had worked hard all her life. Ever since her father left her mother to be with his mistress in China, she had decided that she will need to study hard and earn a good living. If nothing else, to show that useless father of hers the good life that he is missing when he made the decision to leave them. She did well in school and earn several scholarships to ease the financial burden on her mother. When she was in her first year in NUS Medicine school, she met a rich and handsome classmate which eventually became her boyfriend. She thought her life had turned for the better but alas, her boyfriend cheated on her just months after she had given her virginity to him. She broke up with him immediately and swore never to depend on any men. When she completed her medical degree, she worked hard at her job in NUH, rising quickly through the ranks. With her career stabilising and a high income, she bought a condominium in the western part of Singapore to live with her mom, fulfilling her promise as a young child to give her mother a good life. True to her words, she never had a boyfriend since her university days. She spends all her free time with her mother, eating at restaurants and going on holidays. And here they are now, on a 4 night Royal Caribbean cruise to Jeju Island in Korea.

Although Eliza is now in her thirties, she had taken good care of her body. Her skin was still flawless and her strict adherence to a diet and Yogo routine helped her body stay slim and youthful. It was no wonder that many men at the swimming pool were ogling at her when she walked past in her pink bikini. Eliza may have sworn off men but she enjoyed the stares of appreciation that she was getting from men. Men are so useless. They only think with their dicks. Eliza smirked as she put on the white bathrobe from the cruise liner. It was not out of modesty but instead, it was a calculated move on her part to cover parts of her body, to make it more mysterious and seductive.

The three men soon returned with her vodka cocktail. They purposefully sat on her seat and tried to touch her. But Eliza was too smart for them. She wrapped herself tightly in her bathrobe and the men could not touch her bare skin. She soon found out that Ahmad, Beng and Chandra were classmates at NUS and had just started work. They decided to take a cruise together with their first year-end bonus as a sort of celebration. Perhaps they thought she could be a memento of their trip, Eliza smirked to herself. Young punks. She will squeeze them dry of their bonus and leave them high and dry. The men continue to talk to her and she encouraged them by revealing parts of her body but never letting them touch her. Throughout, she continued to ask them for drinks and snacks. She even got one of them to buy her a pair of Gucci shades. By the evening, she realised that she had enjoyed the attention so much that she had been a little reluctant to leave the pool for her dinner. The men wanted to follow her but she skilfully evade them.

She went to Jamie’s for dinner with her mother. Throughout, her mother was nagging at her over her spaghetti on how she was being overly flirtatious and how she will regret her actions. Eliza was bored. She did not blame her mother but her mother was really too conservative. It was all fun and nothing else. If men can flirt with women, why can’t women flirt with men?

To avoid further nagging, Eliza went down to the bar and left her mother to return to their room. She was wearing a purple long dress with a low neckline, showing off the cleavage to her ample breasts. She was pleased that her choice of dress drew appreciative stares from the men when she walked into the bar. As she sat at the counter, the three men that she saw earlier plonked themselves on the seats beside her. She was pleasantly surprised to see them again. To be honest, they were good conservationist and were good looking. Ahmad had a boyish looking face and a nice brown tan. Beng had a muscular broad chest that exuded masculinity. Chandra was the most average looking of the three men but he sported a large, angular nose. Supposedly, this was the mark of a large cock. Eliza laughed to herself. She had not seen any medical reports on this yet and wondered how this myth became popular.

“Any of you want to buy me a drink?” Eliza purred seductively. The three men rushed to be the first to buy her a drink and other refreshments. Several hours later, Eliza realised perhaps a bit belatedly that she was getting drunk. She usually knew when to stop but she must have missed that point with the engaging conversations and the never ending flow of drinks. She blamed her mother momentarily. Maybe she drank too much because she was pissed with her mother’s nagging.

“I need to go.” Eliza stood up resolutely but faltered straightaway, holding onto the bar counter for support. “Come on, let’s have another one.” Ahmad suggested.

“The night is still young.” Beng argued.

“Or do you want to come to our room for another round.” Chandra said with a twinkle in his eye.

“No. I am going up to my room.” Eliza knew that she must not drink any more.

She walked a few tentative steps but stumbled forward on her fourth step. Ahmad and Beng ran forward and each held one of her arms. “Thanks.” Eliza muttered, her world spinning crazily around her.

“Let’s go to our room.” Chandra urged.

“No. I want to go back to my room 1120.” Eliza stated as firmly as she could. She looked at the bartender, who was looking at her direction. “I want to go back to my room 1120.” She repeated loudly, making sure that the bartender heard her. These young men would not want to try anything funny now that the bartender is aware that she does not want to be in their room. Eliza smiled to herself. Still smarter than you guys who think with their dicks, assholes.

The three men brought Eliza to her room. She was still too weak to stand on her feet and was half-dragged to her room, stumbling along the way. They met several people along the corridors and Eliza made sure that they knew that she was heading back to her room. “These men are bringing me back to my room 1120.” She repeated loudly whenever she saw anyone along the corridors. It was embarrassing to be that drunk but it was important to draw attention to herself, Eliza rationalised.

Once the door to her room was opened, the three men dropped her on the bed. Eliza fell asleep immediately when she realised that she was safe in her room and her defences dropped. Chandra closed the door behind them and smiled at Ahmad and Beng knowingly. Their plan to make Eliza drunk and then fuck her had worked. Well, almost. They had planned to bring her to their room but the venue was not the most important thing, was it?

“Eliza, you back?” Eliza’s mother called out from the toilet. The three men froze, looking at each other. Shit. They forgot about the mother. Beng looked around and pulled off two pillow cases. He motioned the other two to stand with him behind the toilet door. The toilet door opened and Eliza’s mother walked out in her bathrobe.

“Eliza? Are you okay?” Eliza’s mother asked, drying her hair with a towel in her hand. Beng pushed Eliza’s mother down onto the bed and sat on top of her. He pulled her hands behind her and tied them with one of the pillow cases. Eliza’s mother screamed and Beng quickly took the towel and stuff it into her mouth, muffling her screams. Ahmad took the remaining pillow case and tied Eliza’s mother’s legs to stop her from kicking and struggling. Secured, the three men carried Eliza’s mother to the sofa.

“Well, there were a few hiccups but I guess it was almost as easy as ABC, huh? Shall we begin?” Ahmad rubbed his hands gleefully.

“This bitch is really too much. It is payback time for all the money we spent on her.” Beng laughed.

Chandra did not even bother saying anything as he simply smiled and undressed himself. The other two men followed his cue and undressed themselves too. They quickly removed Eliza’s dress, revealing the twin mounds of flesh. Despite her age, Eliza’s breasts were still perky and firm. The men took turns squeezing them and sucking on her nipples. Eliza moaned in her sleep and the men seemed to be even more excited when they heard her.

“Fuck! She trimmed herself down there. She like some fucking schoolgirl.” Ahmad exclaimed as he positioned his head between her legs. He licked her love hole as he brushed his fingers against the thin pubic hair. He slowly peeled the folds of her love hole open carefully, taking in the sweet smell emanating from her vagina. He found the small bud of pleasure and carefully licked it.

Eliza opened her mouth and moaned softly as pleasure coursed through her body. Beng took the opportunity to thrust his manhood into her mouth. He could feel his hard cock reaching the back of her throat. He pulled Eliza’s head over the edge of the bed. Eliza’s head now tilted backwards and allowed his cock to reach even deeper. “Fuck! Her mouth feels damn good.”

Chandra straddled Eliza and rubbed his hard cock between her breasts. He closed his eyes and moaned softly as his cock coursed through the smooth valley.

By this time, Ahmad decided that Eliza was sufficiently lubricated. He spat a glob of saliva onto his hard cock and guided it slowly into her. “Fuck. This bitch is so tight, like a goddamn school girl.”

Chandra laughed when he heard that. He turned around and helped spread Eliza’s legs wider.

Ahmad thrusted hard and finally got his cock totally in her. It was so tight and pleasurable that he could not stop himself from ejaculating after only several thrusts. “Shit! What a waste!”

Chandra laughed again. “Weak! My turn!” Ahmad relented and Chandra took over his position. Chandra’s cock was even larger and thicker than Ahmad’s. It will be even more difficult to get his cock into Eliza’s tight cunt but Ahmad had lubricated Eliza’s hole well with her love juice and his semen. Slowly, Chandra eased his cock into Eliza, stretching her tight hole that has not been used in years to her limit. The pain shot through Eliza and she woke up with a start. The first thing she saw were Beng’s balls swinging in front of her and her mouth being violated by his cock.

“Mmph!” She tried to push Beng away but Chandra had now pushed the last two inches of his large cock into her, going where no cock had ever gone before. Pain paralysed her, followed by blinding pleasure. Instead of pushing Beng away, her hands grabbed his ass and pulled him even deeper into her mouth. Beng groaned in pleasure as he went deeper, the pleasure from his cock finally tipping him over the abyss. He shot out white waves of little Bengs, flooding Eliza’s mouth and bathing his cock in them.

Eliza was choking on Beng’s ejaculate. She tried to push him away but was too weak. Left with no choice, she swallowed his man juice as much as she could, but there was too much and some even went into her nose.

While Beng and Chandra were fucking Eliza, Ahmad had sat himself next to Eliza’s mom. He had been stroking his cock to hardness while watching his friends enjoying themselves with Eliza when he realised that Eliza’s mom was staring hard at her daughter being fucked.

“You like what you see, huh? Are you an old horny cow, huh?” Ahmad jeered. He pulled open her bathrobe and was pleasantly surprised that the older woman had even larger breasts than her daughter. The skin was still soft and smooth. He bent forwards to suck her tits as he stroked himself. His cock hardened as his body touched the older woman’s bare skin.

Aroused, he took an irrational risk. He removed the towel from the older woman’s mouth and stood on the sofa, positioning his hard cock in front of the older woman.

“Suck it, old cow!” The older woman complied, sucking his cock hungrily.

“Look guys! The old cow is horny!” Ahmad laughed. “God! She still has the skills. Damn it. She is good!” Ahmad groaned in pleasure as he started fucking the older woman’s mouth.

Beng walked over and untied the woman’s legs. He spread it open and started licking her cunt. The older woman moaned in pleasure, Ahmad’s cock still in her mouth.

By this time, Chandra had been enjoying fucking Eliza for some time now. He gave several deep and slow strokes, before finishing with a series of quick thrusts. Eliza’s love canal was flooded a second time after more than a decade of drought. As Chandra withdrew his cock, he was pleased to see the white man juice slowly seeping out of Eliza’s cunt. That was so erotic and made him feel that he had successfully conquered that proud bitch.

Eliza was feeling confused. She was conscious now. She knew she should be frightened by what had just happened but instead she she wanted more. It had been so long since she had sex and they had made her feel so much more pleasure than her boyfriend so many years ago.

“What? What are you staring at, bitch?” Chandra saw a confused look on Eliza’s face. Eliza looked away and was drawn to Chandra’s large, black, hairy cock. Maybe there is some truth to the myth. That was a huge cock. Did it actually went in her? Unbelievable.

Chandra saw Eliza looking at his cock. His cock hardened again. He smiled to himself. “You want some more of my cock, bitch?”

“You are not strong enough. Weak bastards that think with your dicks? You can’t even last long enough to pleasure me, assholes.” Eliza retorted without thinking. The rebellious streak in her took over.

Chandra saw red and pulled Eliza towards him. Her legs were now over the edge of the bed while her back was on the bed. He turned her over, spreading her legs wide and without any warning, forced his cock into her, impaling his whole length in one deep stroker. Eliza screamed as pain tore through her. She was still not accustomed to such a big cock in her. Chandra pulled her hair and forced her body to arch against his. This only caused his cock to slide even further in, eliciting pain and pleasure all over Eliza’s body. Eliza willed herself not to blackout. Chandra tilted her head towards his. “Not strong enough? I will make you come so much that you will beg me to stop, bitch.” Chandra grunted as he pumped deeper and faster into Eliza. Minutes later, he seeded Eliza again, with semen dripping out of her cunt, a long white river along the length of her legs.

Ahmad saw what was happening and took his cock out of the older women’s mouth. He walked over to the bed where Eliza was now lying flat on her back, exhausted. He spread her legs wide, sticking his hard cock covered with Eliza’s mother’s saliva into Eliza’s cunt. This time, it went in easily. He pulled Eliza up so that she was now sitting on his cock. He sank his head into her breasts, sucking on them slowly. The first time was too quick for him. Now, he intends to savour Eliza. As Eliza bounced slowly on his cock, she started moaning in pleasure as the slow love-making generated gentle waves of pleasure.

“Look at her!. She enjoying being fucked. What a bitch!” Chandra sneered. His cock twitched and blood starting flowing into it again. He pushed both Eliza and Ahmad down onto the bed, straddled Ahmad’s legs, positioning himself behind Eliza’s ass.

“Fuck, Chandra! What you doing, huh?” Ahmad sounded a bit piss at having his pleasure disrupted.

“I want to fuck her in her asshole. Give that bitch two cocks at the same time.” Chandra spit on his fingers and inserted them into Eliza’s asshole. Eliza froze at the unfamiliar intrusion but Chandra was impatient. He quickly inserted a second finger, trying to loosen it as much as he can. Eliza winced in pain but that only encouraged Chandra’s sadistic instinct. He pushed his cock into Eliza’s ass, forcing it against the muscles in her opening. Eliza screamed, her whole body reacting to the unnatural forced entry. Ahmad groaned in pleasure as the muscles squeezed his cock even tighter. Chandra did not care and forced his cock even deeper. Eventually, Eliza had both cocks deep in her. Chandra pushed himself against Eliza, the movement causing Eliza pleasure in both her holes. She moaned louder and louder in pleasure, unable to control herself.

Beng was amused at his two friends fucking Eliza. But he had no intention of joining them. Having his cock coated in another man’s semen seemed disgusting. Anyway, now that Ahmad had done a good job lubricating the old cow, he decided to fuck the old woman instead. He lifted her legs over his shoulders and fucked her on the sofa standing up. It was not tight as to be expected, but a cunt is a cunt. It was still warm and pleasurable and the old woman seemed appreciative of having a fuck at this age. She was moaning softly, seemingly enjoying herself.

The three men continued fucking for a while and ejaculated for the final time. Dressing quickly, the three men looked at the two women, covered in semen, exhausted. They laughed and exited the room quietly. It was already morning. The ship had docked and they should quickly leave the boat before the women wake up.

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coochiequeens · 1 year

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Anthropologists just proved what every women already knows

For most people around the world, physical work takes up a great amount of time and energy every day. But what determines whether it is men or women who are working harder in households? In most hunter-gatherer societies, men are the hunters and women are the gatherers – with men seemingly walking the furthest. But what’s the labour breakdown in other societies?

We carried out a study of farming and herding groups in the Tibetan borderlands in rural China – an area with huge cultural diversity – to uncover which factors actually determine who works the hardest in a household, and why. Our results, published in Current Biology, shed light on the gender division of work across many different kinds of society.

The majority of adults across the world are married. Marriage is a contract, so one might expect roughly equal costs and benefits from the union for both parties. But unequal bargaining power in a household – such as one person threatening divorce – can lead to unequal contributions to the partnership.

Leaving home

We decided to test the hypothesis that leaving your natal area after heterosexual marriage to live with your spouse’s family may contribute to a higher level of workload. In such marriages, the new person typically isn’t related to, and doesn’t share a history with, anyone in their new household. Without blood relatives around them, they might therefore be at a disadvantage when it comes to bargaining power.

The most common form of marriage around the world is where women are the “dispersers”, leaving their native home, while men stay with their families in their natal area. This is known as patrilocality.

Neolocality – in which both sexes disperse at marriage, and the couple lives in a new place away from both their families – is another common practice in many parts of the world. Matrilocality – where women stay in the natal family and men move to live with the wife and her family – is quite rare. And duolocality – where neither sex leaves home and husband and wife live apart – is very rarely seen.

Luckily, in the diverse Tibetan borderlands, all four of these different dispersal patterns can be found across various different ethnic groups.

Our study focused on rural villages from six different ethnic cultures. With our collaborators from Lanzhou University in China, we interviewed more than 500 people about their dispersal status after marriage, and invited them to wear an activity tracker (like a fitbit) to assess their workloads.

Women work harder

Our first finding was that women worked much harder than men, and contributed most of the fruits of this labour to their families. This was evidenced both by their own reports of how much they worked and by their activity trackers.

Women walked on average just over 12,000 steps per day, while men walked just over 9,000 steps. So men also worked hard, but less so than women. They spent more time in leisure or social activities, or just hanging around and resting.

This may be partly because women are, on average, physically weaker than men, and may thus have reduced bargaining power. But we also found that individuals (be they male or female) who disperse at marriage to live away from their kin have higher workloads than those who stay with their natal families.

So if you are female and move away from home at marriage (as most women do throughout the world), you suffer not just in terms of missing your own family but also in terms of workload. When both sexes disperse and no one lives with their natal families, both sexes work hard (as there is little help from kin) – but the woman still works harder. According to our study, perfect sex equality in workload only occurs in instances where men disperse and women do not.

These results help us to understand why women globally disperse, but men generally do not. Dispersal is especially bad for men – adding about 2,000 more steps per day to their step count, but only adding about 1,000 steps per day for women.

Time and energy spent on farming, herding and housework competes with free time. So substantial labour contribution to households in these rural areas can result in less time spent on rest. From an evolutionary view, giving up rest isn’t favourable unless it contributes to higher fitness – such as enhancing offspring survival.

We don’t actually know whether it is favourable in this case, as it hasn’t been researched much. It may be true in poor and rural areas around the world, but less so in wealthier settings.

In most urban areas, for example, an inactive lifestyle is becoming more pervasive. And research has shown that sedentary lifestyles in such areas among white-collar workers are becoming a significant public health issue. They are linked to many chronic health conditions such as obesity, infertility, and several mental health disorders.

Sex inequality in workload persists both in the home and outside. Now our study has given an evolutionary perspective on why women are more likely than men to be bearing a heavy work burden.

But things are slowly changing. As women are increasingly starting families away from both their partner’s and their own family, their bargaining power is increasing. This is further boosted by their increasing levels of self-generated wealth, education and autonomy. Ultimately, these changes are leading men to take on an increasing workload in many urban, industrial or post-industrial societies.

#Men work less than women #Men have more leisure time than women

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conandaily2022 · 6 months

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Miss Universe China 2023 predictions: Qing Wang, Jin Zhang, Xuebing Liu, Nancy Zhao, Anzi Liu

The Miss Universe China 2023 coronation ceremony will be held in Dehua, Fujian, China on October 22, 2023. It is the 13th edition of the national beauty pageant that selects China’s Miss Universe candidate. On November 22, 2022, Jiang Sichen won Miss Universe China 2022 at Gongguan Bihai Lantian Hotel in Yunnan, China. The respective first, second, third and fourth runners-up were Ma Yuyi, Qi…

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#Anzi Liu #Chinese beauty pageants #Chinese beauty queens #Jiang Sichen #Jin Zhang #Miss Universe #Miss Universe China #Nancy Zhao #Qing Wang #Xuebing Liu

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heliocharis · 2 years

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Left My Friend’s Body Outside the Mithraeum: One New Zealander’s account of the New Zealand stuff in Nona the Ninth

A few points before we begin:

I’ve quoted everything out of context, but probably don’t read this if you don’t want to be spoiled for the book.

I’m just one person (a Pākehā North Islander millennial, for context), but hopefully I caught most of it. Please tell me if you see anything I missed!

If you see something and think, ‘Tumblr user junozeta, why have you included this piece of information when it is very easily Google-able,’ it’s for the sake of completeness.

Kia ora!

Dramatis personae

Stop It, name assumed, lies under counter at dairy, red colour, big sized, four legs

Dairy: A corner store.

John 20:8

Dilworth. Otago. Auckland. Overseas to Corpus. (She likes the word corpus; it sounds nice and fat.) Then another year abroad, where he got the grant and met the men who would make things happen. Special pleading with the New Zealand government and Asia-Pacific Environmental, at his suggestion, then back to the facility outside Greytown.

Here John is reciting his credentials. Dilworth is a private boys’ boarding school in Auckland. (ETA: Please see this reblog by sixth-light for better context.) Auckland and Otago will be referring to the universities, which are notably the only two in NZ with medical schools. I will add that having studied more in NZ than overseas does not afford you a lot of prestige.

Greytown is a small town (population 2,720 as of 2021) in the lower North Island, near Wellington. (I note here that Trentham, the presumptive namesake of the Second House’s Trentham, is also near Wellington, as is Maymorn, which Tamsyn Muir has said Mercymorn was originally named after.)

Chapter 1

“Is that pikelet mix?” she said.

Pikelet: Like a pancake, but smaller and denser.

Palamedes stood like he was playing a game of Hot Chocolate and the tagger was looking right at him. Hot Chocolate was in fashion with her friends at the moment and Nona wanted to get really good at it.

Putting this here to state for the record that I’m not familiar with Hot Chocolate as a name for a game of that kind. (ETA: An anon was, though, as a different name for Red Light, Green Light. See, not all of NZ is the same.)

I’ve met leaders like Unjust Hope before.

“Unjust Hope” could be from “The Ikons” by James K. Baxter, a famous New Zealand poet.

John 5:20

He said, It was the last one that was getting to me. I knew all those bodies by name. Funny to say, but they were my mates, you know? I’d worked on them for such a long time, and they’d given us so much, and now they were going to get dumped in some concrete skip because after what we’d done to them they couldn’t be cremated or buried safely. I hated that.

Mates: Friends. Classic Kiwi.

Skip: A dumpster.

I didn’t have to worry about the public or the media—we had a pet cop, P—. She’d made detective by that point; was going on to big things in the MoD.

MoD: Probably self-explanatory, but Ministry of Defence.

We only had the demo cans; the mass-produced ones were made in a Five Eyes factory in Shenzhen.

Five Eyes: A surveillance alliance between NZ, Australia, the UK, the US, and Canada. As of 2022, not actively military, nor ostensibly involved with China. Much to think about.

I went around to everyone, talking to my favourites—I know it was weird having favourites, but let’s bloody face it, I’d gone weird—not even saying goodbye, just saying it’ll be fine, hang on for me, kia kaha, kia māia.

Kia kaha, kia māia: Well-known Māori phrase meaning “be strong, be brave”.

John 15:23

You wouldn’t believe how stupid guys get over compliments on our looks, I was vain as.

Vain as: “[adjective] as” is a classic Kiwi way to say that something is extremely [adjective].

P— said I looked like a Māori TV Pink Panther.

Māori TV: Worth noting here that this is a TV channel, and not a generic reference.

Someone’s Honda. Someone’s Mazda. Someone’s four-wheel drive. Someone’s shed. A Macca’s sign.

Shed: A garage.

Macca’s: McDonald’s.

A— and M— moved in with me, and G— set up outside; he was sleeping in his ute. C— was staying with N—, long days. She left us early in the morning and came back the next day with sausage rolls for breakfast.

Ute: A pickup truck. (Short for “utility vehicle”.)

Sausage rolls: A classic NZ food.

You hear all the cicadas in the grass, you hear the dogs in the next town over barking. You hear the moreporks in the trees and the possums skittering over shed roofs.

Morepork: A native owl (Ninox novaeseelandiae).

Possums: Worth noting that NZ has the Australian kind (Trichosurus vulpecula).

He was the bravest dog I’d ever met. Half Chihuahua, half pug. Nan called him Ulysses S. Grunt.

Maybe worth noting here that “Grant” and “Grunt” are pronounced much more alike in an NZ accent than they would be in a North American one.

Chapter 9

Cam ducked into a bakery and came out with a warm and probably radioactive paper bag of pastries that had been under the bakery light the whole time.

Almost certainly a reference to this iconic cultural moment.

She had already got her towel and the old shirt she used to swim in—much easier to go naked, but the others had all objected to this, and Cam had said it would make her a sniper target—and her jandals, and then after masks were tied and hats put on they walked to the beach in the low dusk.

Jandals: Flip-flops. Classic Kiwi.

“I’d give Palamedes the hiding of his fucking life if he wasn’t renting an ass with you.”

Hiding: A beating.

John 5:18

They were lying head-to-head, their eyes aimed at the right part of the sky to see, or in this case not see, the Southern Cross.

Southern Cross: The constellation on the NZ flag. Known formally as, of course, Crux.

There was so much to figure out. But I’d got a dream team on tap, eh? People who could think. C—’s N—, she was on board. C— was still pretending they weren’t dating—she was an artist, so that was cool. If you have two scientists and an engineer and a detective and a lawyer and an artist you’re pretty much sweet as.

Eh: We tend to end sentences with this quite a lot (though of course it’s not just us).

Sweet as: “all good”. Classic Kiwi.

Back then we thought maybe there was something about the ground, something about our particular patch in the Wairarapas, but if we loaded up the ute with a bunch of bodies and looked out for the cops we could do the same thing anywhere else.

The Wairarapas: The region of NZ where Greytown is located. This is an informal way to refer to it, its proper name being the Wairarapa.

“Is that pikelets, Pyrrha? You’re a legend.”

Calling someone a legend to express approval, while not new, has become deeply entrenched in the local consciousness over the last decade or so, thanks to a recognisable anti-drink driving campaign. (If you’ve heard of the “ghost chips” ad, it’s one of those.)

Chapter 12

Crown Him with Many Crowns Thy Full Gallant Legions He Found It in Him to Forgive

He Found It in Him to Forgive: Lyrics from a classic NZ song, “Dominion Road” by The Mutton Birds.

“Why does Pash hate us so much?”

Worth noting here that “pash” (both a noun and a verb) is slang for making out.

John 8:1

You’ve got a wizard out in the wop-wops who’s now got blanket bans from nearly every video upload site and a whole bunch of people have entered the country because of his YouTube channel, the government isn’t all, Love that small-business entrepreneur spirit.

The wop-wops: The middle of nowhere. Often just “the wops”.

Didn’t mention that I’d only gone to Parachute ’cause of the underage drinking.

Parachute: A Christian music festival that existed from 1992 to 2014.

She’d won medals for competition shooting back north in Hamilton, but we’re not talking Jesse James. We’re talking Hamilton.

Hamilton: A city in the North Island (it’s the next city south of Auckland) which it is nationally popular to disparage, especially if you’re from Auckland (this is mutual).

Chapter 16

Crown Prince Kiriona Gaia

Kiriona: Transliteration of “Gideon” into te reo Māori.

“It can’t be my blood. It must be someone else’s. Maybe it’s tomato sauce.”

Pretty throwaway, this one, but when she says tomato sauce this is the kind I think of.

Chapter 18

“Whew!” said Nona. “Is the classroom munted?”

Munted: Busted, fucked up.

John 5:1

There was a lot of it, but we had a lot of people who needed a feed. We sat there with the window cracked so G— could hear us while he manned the barbie, which in the dark gets unwholesome as hell, and we ate off paper plates, and I told them …

A feed: A meal.

Barbie: I think this one should be easy.

He said, Which just goes to show that only getting to NCEA Level 2 isn’t going to stop you making waves in life, right. You can still eat steak, talk to wizards, and take down the government.

NCEA Level 2: This is the qualification you get in your second-to-last year of high school (typically at age 16, which is the age at which you can leave school), and has historically been the minimum you need for university entrance.

This is fairly easy to infer anyway, but John et al. being young enough to have done NCEA (it was introduced in the early 2000s) and old enough to have gone to Parachute to underage drink tells you pretty soundly that they’re millennials.

John 3:20

He said, So I went to the governments that were still sympathetic, sort of, like ours, and all the Trans-Pacifics, and we threw down our evidence.

Probably referring to the TPP.

Not only that, they looked at us and were like, We were going to put you fellas in jail, weren’t we?

Pronounce this as “fullas”, with the U as in “up”.

John 9:22

A bunch of the guys were her old coworkers—guys she’d gone through training with in Porirua, beer buddies.

Porirua: A small city near Wellington.

John 1:20

He said, So here’s us, planning to meet these agents in neutral territory, across the ditch, over in the huddle where the Territory refugees were.

The ditch: The Tasman Sea.

But they weren’t only aggro about G—, they were aggro that a nuke might go off and kill a couple million people. I was like, Guys, it’s fine, they’re Australian.

There’s a rivalry.

John 5:4

Like those old power-washing ads. Spray and walk away, right?

A very recognisable series of ads.

(End of post! If you have learned anything, I’ll be stoked.)

#this is what i was put on earth for #nona the ninth #nona the ninth spoilers #the locked tomb #locked tomb originals

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randomshyperson · 1 year

Text

Another Love - Wanda Maximoff x Reader

Summary: Being late doesn't always mean you lost your chance. Wanda might not be yours now, but if there’s something an Eternal can do is wait.

Warnings: unrequired love, hints of mutual (?) pining; mild angst with hopeful ending, friends/team partners, canon divergence, fluff, some tension, language. |

Words: 4.046k | Part Two

A/N-> The author was missing Klaroline and instead of dealing with it in a wholesome way, I wrote angst (ish) with Wanda. Send help. Those who haven't seen TVD may know lines from tik tok edits. Cry with me, dear ones. And good reading.

General Masterlist | AO3 | Wattpad

--//--

You didn't know that a piece of paper had the ability to hurt the invulnerable until you received Wanda Maximoff's wedding invitation.

It arrived at your newly sold apartment by mail - You would have missed it if you hadn't made a last check on the boxes of furniture that were to arrive in China shortly after you.

Meeting the new leader of the Ten Rings Society was an indispensable business necessity, you had convinced yourself of that. Much though you had the impression that deep down, leaving New York had little to do with work and a lot to do with a certain former teammate.

Your history with Wanda went way back - all the way to Sokovia, where, as usual, you were guaranteeing the mission Arishem had given you, even if with each century, you doubted your vocation for it more. The Judge was clear in his instructions, on what you represented. A Homo Immortalis, in all your magnitude, chosen to oversee the rest of your people. You were gifted with a little of each of the others; having what was necessary to hold more power than any other, a mortal and superior combination of all the abilities of the other Eternals.

And while the others lived out Arishem's mission in their own way, you were actually working towards it. Ensuring that humanity evolved, and that applied to making sure that Infinity Stones were not used to exterminate them, everything from helping Captain America with the fools of Hydra disguised as Shield to joining the Avengers to recover Loki's scepter.

Your participation in the team was hidden from the rest of the world for a long time. You had no interest in gaining fame for your work or any financial recognition. These material and superficial things came naturally to you, but they meant little in the magnitude of the life of an eternal, the kind that could run and fly and destroy the world with a breath. The one who could see these, and many other universes, from a palm's distance.

When the Mind Stone fell into your hands, you had two lost and angry orphaned twins at your feet. The Maximoffs were young adults with a lot of anger and hurt towards the world, and while you guaranteed them safety in a new country, they gave you something in return that you had long since allowed yourself to feel.

The vulnerability of having a family scared you. Even then, the Avengers were limited to you just as the Eternals were - co-workers toward a common goal, a shared function.

Loving Wanda changed all of that.

She melted away your age-old defenses - Centuries of loss and betrayal, dispassion in your mind with the comfort of her presence. Wanda was a ray of light, hope, for humanity you hadn't recognized within yourself in a long time.

Through her friendship, you were inspired to have other friends. To reconnect with the rest of the Eternals, and with the remaining Avengers. Ensuring that humanity evolved, as Arishem instructed you, was almost a secondary plan. Your priority was to guarantee the safety of these people who had become important to you.

The Stones were protected - You would have suggested their destruction, but even Phastos had been against something so raw. The problem was not the stones, knowledge, and evolution never are, the issue was the way these species wanted to use these heavenly blessings. Keeping these objects away from such primitively violent races should be a priority, and so, you made sure.

The Stones were kept away by you, and when the Mad Titan tried to steal them, he was defeated like the grain of sand he always was before the multiverse.

But soon, you would realize that Thanos' death caused the inevitable revelation of the Celestials' true motives. It was a very sad unveiling - Tragic even, for everything you believed in. Years of ensuring that humans prospered only to destroy them. Luckily, the vast majority of your team agreed that this was too absurd to be allowed.

Not all of you survived, and there was a sigh of greater threats knocking at the door, beyond the promised judgment of Arishem on the humanity your family betrayed his teachings for, but for now, there was peace.

The world was flourishing and spinning, the Avengers were growing stronger every day, recognized as Protectors of the Earth, respected and loved all over the globe. Despite all that had happened to the Eternals, at least this gave you a sense of duty fulfilled.

When it came to Wanda, you hesitated. Not in your heart, because the certainty of your feelings was always clear to you, even before you could admit it to her. The feeling bloomed in your chest every day in her company, and to deny it would be foolish. But at some point, perhaps when work occupied your time, and priorities of making sure Dreykov was dead or stopping other lesser villains that seemed to sprout in the earth like cancer, you put Wanda aside. She grew close to someone else and fell in love with him, and Vision was the one she would marry in a few weeks.

The invitation surprised you, no, it hurt you. At first, your instinct, in a moment of anger and indignation, because Wanda knew - everybody knew - about your love for her, and yet this didn't stop her from reserving a seat at the celebration of her choice. The choice that was not you.

The invitation ripped in a tug, and you gasped. Your mind filled with nostalgia and longing, memories of the team, and of her, made you sigh. The item floated from the floor until it was rebuilt and returned to your fingers.

Greater foolishness would be for Wanda not to invite you. Even though she had been nothing but understanding and kind in rejecting you so many months ago, it would be rude not to include you in this now. Everyone was invited, Eternals, Avengers, Shield agents, and so on. not inviting you would have hurt even more.

You kept the fancy paper in your jacket pocket. You weren't sure if you would have the courage to show up, but all it took was one phone call to a certain widow who said she would shoot you if you upset Wanda on her special day, was all it took for you to make sure you went to the party.

Your return to the United States was bittersweet. Despite all the good memories as an Avenger, the feeling of losing Wanda still ached deep in your chest at every thought that flowed into your mind about her. And traveling to New Jersey for her wedding guaranteed a lot of them.

You purposely missed the ceremony. First, because delays were impossible for someone like you, and second because you didn't want to watch her swear her love to another.

For the party, Wanda was supposed to change her white dress into something lighter, that would allow her to dance with everyone.

You knew you shouldn't, but your feet made their way upstairs to the Wedding Venues just the same.

Manners be damned, you would be selfish one last time.

The floor was quite busy, many familiar faces like Nat, Maria, and Carol, and some distant colleagues were there. You just greeted them politely, ignoring the hesitant glances at your presence at the party, when everyone knew and imagined that you were not coming.

Wanda was frantic in the make-up room. She was smiling so much when you entered, that you barely noticed the gold wedding ring on her finger.

She noticed your presence through the mirror as Nat and Yelena helped her with her jewelry and immediately hesitated.

"Y/N."

You smiled, looking at her, and her solemnly. "Hello, Wanda."

Nat exchanged a glance with Yelena, both by their proximity, realizing how a simple greeting made Wanda shudder from head to toe, and the color of her cheeks not limiting the makeup now.

She turned, twiddling her fingers. "You came."

Your smile didn't falter, but your hand left the doorknob to touch the pocket of your jacket. "You invited me." It is an obvious and tender statement, almost a tease. Wanda smiles shyly, looking away from your intense eyes before she embarrasses herself further in the presence of others.

Nat clears her throat and gestures to everyone in the room. "Let's go see if everything's all right downstairs, shall we?" Most of them practically run out of the room. Yelena makes a confused face.

"She hasn't even changed clothes yet-" She starts to protest, but you step forward.

"Don't worry, Yelena, I'll help her with her dress." You say in the most respectful and least insinuating manner, but still, you get a warning look from Wanda and blush about the way Nat holds back a chuckle.

The door closes as only you and Wanda are left inside the room. You smile at her, and she sighs affectedly.

"I wasn’t expecting you." She starts, but seeing your expression, she blushes as she corrects herself, "I didn't mean it like that. Of course, I wanted you here, or I wouldn't have sent the invitation. But..."

"Wanda, it's okay." You cut her off, aware of the heart pulsing at high speed in her chest. You did not wish that to give the bride an anxiety attack - You promised Nat that she would have an amazing day, and so it would be. "I'm sorry I missed your vows, I'm sure they were beautiful."

She smiles shyly, adjusting a strand of hair behind her ear. If you used telepathy, you could watch her fondly review the last moments, but you would rather burn your eyes out.

Moving closer to the bed, where the change of clothes had been placed, you smiled at her.

"I'm glad you liked the gift."

Wanda frowned in confusion, then understood. She opened her mouth to say something but didn't know exactly how to thank you. You grinned.

"Forgive me, I should have written a note on the box." You joked, wielding a weak, affected laugh from her.

Her cheeks are rosy and she looks lovely like this. "I-I didn't realize it was you who sent it. I didn't... I thought it was a gift from Yelena or even Stark, considering how expensive it looks..."

You hum in understanding, your hands busy unfolding the dress. "I told Yelena to cover for me." You explain, hiding from her curious expression. "Don't look at me like that. I was under the impression that if I put my name on the gift, you might reject it."

"Y/n..."

"And I couldn't let that happen." You interrupt her gently, making her shut up because you approach. Your smile is tender and your touch on her cheek makes her breath hitch. "I chose it especially for you with the world's greatest stylists, each desperate to please me the most."

Wanda swallowed dryly, trying to keep her gaze in your eyes. You licked your lips, and she almost gave up. But your hand moved away, and so did you.

"Turn around. Let me help you with the zipper." You instructed, and Wanda was so mesmerized by your presence that she did so immediately.

The ease with which you opened the locks of her dress suggested magical assistance, but Wanda was too busy keeping her own body under control to pay attention to this. The dress was loose on her, and she held it up in front of her, turning to thank you.

The closeness of your face made her gasp softly.

You kept your gaze low, resisting as she did, the urge to break the distance. Wanda put a hand on her stomach when she had the impression that this distance got smaller.

When she spoke, her voice was husky and affected. "I just got married."

It was a warning, a reminder. For both of you, in a way. Your heart broke, and unbeknownst to you, so did hers.

Despite this, your smile was easy on your lips, even if they didn't reach your eyes.

"I am aware." You retorted with a slight tease, stepping aside to grab the dress and hand it to her. "Go get changed, love. I would like a dance before I go."

She refused to acknowledge the nickname, honestly used to them from day one, but not the request.

She raised an eyebrow at you. "Are you ordering me to dance with you?"

You pouted, a posture reserved for Wanda and Wanda only. "I wouldn't dream of ordering the Queen of Chaos to do anything."

Wanda snorted in embarrassment, shoving your shoulder gently. A distant version of her, a friend you have long since lost, was visible in your eyes. It made your chest ache.

"Shut up." She giggled shyly, clutching her dress against her body.

You didn't mind, your eyes shining with an adoration that made Wanda warm. "What, Scarlet Witch, no need to get modest with me. I'll be seeing you on a throne yet, I'm sure."

Wanda giggles away, her face very red. "God, you're the worst." She complains embarrassedly, fleeing to the makeshift fitting room in the bedroom while you amuse yourself with her clumsiness at her inevitable fate.

When she returns, she looks as stunning as you knew she would in that dress. She must think so too because she sighs at the glimpse of her own reflection.

"It was really thoughtful of you, Y/N." She commented softly, staring at the mirror. "I loved it from the first moment I put it on."

You were leaning on the window now, having spent all the time Wanda was getting dressed, looking at the guests at the party. Watching the happy groom downstairs. Your face turned to hers, and for a moment, Wanda saw only the cold Eternal she met years ago. She didn't have time to hesitate, because your gaze softened and your smile emerged.

"I knew you would look even more beautiful than usual in this one piece, Maximoff. Red really is your color." You compliment, moving away from the window to approach her. "How are you feeling? Is it comfortable enough to dance in?"

You are assessing the dress, but Wanda is looking at you when she replies; "It's perfect."

She looks away before you can notice. There is an exchange of shy glances before you nod to the jewelry you were going to help her put on. Wanda stands back, busy with rings, and when she hands you the necklace she has chosen, you deny it with your head.

"Not this one." You say, moving your hands to your jacket pocket. She stares at you with confusion through the mirror, but holds her breath at the item you begin to fit around her neck.

"Y/N, that's gorgeous." She gasps in surprise at the sparkling jewel, but as soon as she feels the soft weight, she flinches. "I-I can't, it looks too expensive-"

Your hands hold her by the shoulders, and Wanda chokes, blushing and burning with the feeling of your touch being firm and gentle at the same time. Your fingers adjust the necklace, and your chin rests on her so that she stares you in the eyes.

"It's yours." You assure her, enjoying her perfume and the way Wanda sighs before raising one of your hands to touch the jewel, feeling it on her fingers. "All the best things for my favorite girl."

Although with rosy cheeks, Wanda smiles at your reflection. "Oh, so there are other girls?" She teases, and it's dangerous to do that, alone in a room with you, so close you could just turn your face and take her right there and now, while Wanda has the impression she would let you, even if the party was going on downstairs, but she does it anyway. And you love it.

"None quite like you, Maximoff." Although you return in the same tone, there is a striking truth in your words. Wanda licks her lips, and your grip tightens, making her choke softly on her own breath.

"You're just trying to boost my ego." She retorts, struggling to keep her eyes open when suddenly, your lips are brushing over the amount of exposed skin. Your breath tickles the back of her neck, and Wanda trembles all the way to her tiptoes.

"And why would I do that?" You challenge her as affected as she is, running your hands down her arms until you intertwine your hands over her stomach. Your body embraces hers, and it's as warm and comforting as all the hugs that you two ever shared at the compound and post-battle, and as full of lust as all the few stolen moments in road motels and training sessions.

Wanda's knees go weak, but you hold her, close and tight.

"N-no." She gasps, making no effort to pull away, but with the last vestige of sanity in her mind. "Please, Y/N, I can't. I do love him." The statement throws a bucket of cold water on you, reality back.

You try not to be hurt so much, but it is inescapable. You let go of her gently, and by instinct, Wanda ends up with her face turned to yours. For a second, both you and she think the kiss is inevitable. But you offer her a sad smile and pull away.

Wanda speaks before you can, "I'm sorry." She says, and you know what the apology is about because she has tears in her eyes. You shake your head, quickly bringing your hands closer to your cheeks to make sure your makeup doesn't get ruined.

"Hey, no tears now." You ask as tenderly as you can handle, and despite your own request, your eyes are also teary. "It's your special day. No crying, unless it's from happiness."

"But-"

"I mean it, Maximoff." You say in a falsely serious tone, a smile playing past your tears. "Both Romanoff and your brother will break my ass if I make you sad at your wedding. No tears because of me, alright?"

She gave a tearful laugh, nodding her head. She really wants to hug you, but you just kiss her forehead and walk away.

You look like you are going to add something when you face her, but a knock on the door interrupts the moment. Wanda retreats further away, unsure of what she is trying to hide.

It's Pietro at the door, suspicious and clumsy. "Hey, Y/N. What's up? Everyone's waiting for her..."

"And she's ready now." You say to your old friend, coming closer to hug him. "Wanda will be right down. In the meantime, why don't you accompany me to the bar? I have some Makkari stories to tell you..."

Pietro is immediately excited by his new speed rival, and you offer Wanda one last wink before leaving the room with her brother.

The party is so lively and your friends are so happy in their celebration that it is contagious to have fun too.

It is inevitable, however, that you avoid Wanda. She is the star of the night, and she dances with almost everyone and has everybody's attention, and this keeps her busy long enough to look for you. And with Vision there, you figure she wouldn't.

The celebration must go on through the night, so you get distracted by all the other people. When it is almost 3 a.m., and many of the guests have already left, leaving space for the more intimate friends, Natalia Romanova prepares a martini for you at the bar.

"I'm surprised, you know?" she begins, drawing your full attention away from the slow dance that Vision and Wanda share in the main ballroom. "You behaved very well tonight."

With a small smile, you stare at her. "And when haven't I?"

Nat chuckles softly, serving you both. "Good point, friend."

You nod in thanks for the drink, and you toast before Nat asks about where you were going. Your first response is to shrug before you clarify:

"I imagine we'll have a few months of peace before the next supervillain shows up." You joke, getting a chuckle from the other, "Maybe I'll just work. It's been a while since I've wanted to have a better relationship with the witches on this planet."

Nat raises an eyebrow. "I can't even imagine why the change of heart." She implies, receiving a soft hearty chuckle.

You fall into casual conversation after this - Nat updates you on the full rescue of all the widows she made with Yelena, how they both would now have time for a normal life, and that Yelena was going to study at NYU next semester. She also comments that she is thinking about proposing to Agent Hill, but she might wait until spring because she was under the impression that Tony and Steve were about to announce a wedding on the same date as well. You were sincere when you said that although your love life was turned upside down, you were very happy for her and everyone else.

It was almost morning when the party was officially over. Except for the few drunk people around, and that included a high Clint Barton trying to shoot arrows without being able to see in his current state that Pietro was using speed to prevent it, the venue was being dismantled by the wedding team.

Vision wanted to do something special - He went back inside the house to get blankets so that he and Wanda could watch the sunrise together. You didn't want to be listening to the conversation but it was inevitable.

If you manipulated a little bit of probability so that he wouldn't find the items so soon, it was a harmless prank.

Wanda was waiting for him at the pier on the lake. You approached in short strides, and the lack of disappointment in her gaze as she realized it was you and not her husband made you sure of what you were about to say.

"Hey." She greeted gently, her arms crossed. "I guess I owe you a dance, huh?"

You smiled at her, and as you stood close enough, your hand went to adjust the slightly tousled strands of her hair behind her ears.

"I'd be happy to charge that." You begin, your fingers fondling her skin. "At a masquerade ball in Italy."

Wanda hesitates, surprised before almost upset. She opens her mouth to repeat her apology, but you give her a sad smile before continuing, "But I know what your response to this invitation would be."

She swallows dryly. "I'm sorry, Y/N. I wanted to... I really wanted to feel the same way."

"Oh, sweet girl, don't martyr yourself for it. Ever." You ask her gently, the palm on her cheek so gentle that Wanda has to use all her power not to lean in completely. "My feelings aren't going anywhere, Wands."

She sniffles lightly. "That doesn't help-"

You chuckle lightly, shaking your head. "No, you don't understand." You begin, and she holds her breath as you approach. The kiss is on her cheek, but it is so close to her mouth that Wanda's mind stops for a full minute. Your eyes are full of tenderness as they stare at her. "Vision is your first love. I intend to be your last. No matter how long it takes."

She stares at you, static in surprise. Something in her chest burns and screams, and Wanda recognizes this feeling from many years ago, one that she swore she had completely undone with every goodbye she ever had to give you.

But you are here, looking at her and promising to love her for eternity, and she can't help the ghost of a recurring feeling in her chest.

She feels like the worst person when she sees Vision holding blankets outside the house, and the luckiest as well.

"My congratulations, Wanda." You whisper to her. "I wish you nothing but happiness. To both of you."

Wanda gives you a tearful smile, nodding in gratitude. You smile at her before turning your back, knowing that this will not be the last time.

You would wait for her. Another thousand years if necessary.

-&-

Part Two

#wanda maximoff x reader #wanda x reader #elizabeth olsen x reader #marvel imagines #canon divergence

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