#china in ten words

[hatie]

Every time I read one of the great books, I feel myself transported to another place, and like a timid child I hug them close and mimic their steps, slowly tracing the long river of time in a journey where warmth and emotion fuse. They carry me off with them, then let me make my own way back, and it’s only on my return that I realize they will always be part of me.

#China in ten words

[luveline]

Omg ok Jade my love can I request a princess soulmate au with Steve? Where reader is Prince Steve’s soulmate but maybe she’s not royal herself and is struggling a bit with being the future princess?

Almost like similar vibes to some of the loser gf with rockstar Sirius things you’ve done

thank you sm for your request! (sci-fi fairytale au) prince!steve

cw talk of losing weight to fit into a dress 

Prince Steven sits across from you with a bowl of grapes and a pair of embroidery scissors. He's going to stab me, you think morosely. I'm wretched and boring and he's going to stab me and then the stars will give him another soulmate and he'll forget this whole misfortune.

He seems lost for words as you are, or uninterested. You think he's going to talk and he eats another grape instead, hair fluttering in the breeze that filters in from the balcony, his eyes trained on the holoscreen. He's pretty —soft face, softer hair, almond shaped eyes that seem perpetually amused— but more alarmingly, he's fit. Physically fit from years of sports. Royals do all manner of olympiad competition, evident in his toned shoulders and his sun-kissed skin. 

"How's your embroidery?" he asks suddenly. 

You startle, pretending you'd been attending to that rather than staring at him uselessly. "It's going well, Prince Steven," you lie. You've never embroidered before —you have practical sewing skills for darning scuffed trousers and patching elbows, but embroidery is a labour of time. Time is a luxury you haven't had. 

"Steve," he corrects. 

"Do I… Is it really okay for me to call you that? Won't people think I'm presumptuous?" 

"Ten dollar word." He slides the bowl toward you, a beautifully glazed ceramic piece that likely cost more than your month's rent. "Well, they usually let me have whatever I want, and I want you to call me Steve. And to relax. And eat more." 

"I can't. They said I need to fit into my wedding dress." 

"The wedding dress needs to fit you," Steve says, the simple cut of his button down pulled snug to his chest as he leans back in his chair. "Not the other way around. Is that why you didn't eat much at breakfast? Or was it just gross?" 

"It wasn't gross," you say softly. 

"You don't have to do any of that stuff, either, if it's boring." 

You run your finger down the creamy linen stretched between your bamboo hoops. "I don't know if it's boring. I can barely do it." 

"You're too mean to yourself," he says. 

Steve stands and puts his arm behind his head, pushing his elbow until something clicks. Embarrassed by his dismissal, you stare at your hands and fume at yourself when they begin to tremble. 

It's too much. All of it. The cruel Palace attendants who know you're not good enough. Steve and his good nature. The wedding dress, the fine China, your wonky stitches. 

Steve steps to your side. He holds out his hand, and you pass him your embroidery without meeting his eyes. Your mood worsens at the sharp slink of snipping, sure that Steve will cut your pattern from the sketch and tell you to start again. 

"Sorry, your white knot at the back was bothering me. Pass me a slimmer needle? I'll tuck it behind your stitches." 

Astonished, you pass Steve a smaller needle from the pin cushion. His brows creases gently as he works, rewiring the white thread with patience and efficiency. 

"There. It looks really nice, honey. You're a fast learner." He passes you the hoop. You take it a beat too slow and he either doesn't notice or doesn't make a fuss, chucking you under the chin softly. "Don't worry so much. I'll talk to Cordelia about your wedding dress, the idea that you need to fit into it like it's one size fits all is dumb. It's made for you. Like, what are they expecting?" 

"They're probably hoping this is all a big mistake." 

"Did someone say that to you?" 

"Nobody had to say it to me, I can tell from the way they look at…" Steve takes your face into his hand, effectively killing anything you'd been trying to say.  

He seems royal, then. Used to getting his way, maybe, the disapproving lining of his otherwise sweet eyes. You get a flash of a memory, the morning you'd been presented, Steve in his finery with his platinum crown like a beacon in brown hair, you in your best dress, embarrassingly drab in comparison, your hand offered. He'd been meeting with eligible women all week. 

You were there as a formality. Never for a second did you think your soul mark would react to his, lines of light around your opposite wrists. 

To think you'd worried about touching him. You could never imagine how beautifully careful he is, how tender. You didn't know men were like this until Steve showed you, his niceness apparently bone deep and in everything he does. 

"If people are being jerks, you have to tell me." You never imagined how casual and vulgar he'd be either. "What's the point in being a princess if people don't respect you?" 

"I'm not a princess," you say. Your heart is a hummingbird as he turns his hand and strokes your cheeks with the backs of his fingers. 

"You will be. Nothing can change that. You're going to be a princess, and you can do as much or as little as you want, because those dorks left me in charge and I say so. I can decree it, if that makes you feel better," he says, dropping his hand, the phantom of it lingering like static shock. 

"What if I'm not meant for this?" you ask quietly, shy but terrified enough to ask. 

"I was meant for you," he says, tone matching yours in timidity. His sleeves rolled up as they are, you can see the soft light of his soul mark taking a pink hue. "Right?" 

Your soul mark glows a gentle pink to match his. Because you and Steve don't know one another well, not yet, but the feeling is there, thrumming under the skin like a pulse. Not love, not not love, a glowing desire. A want to know him.

There have been moments where you wished he wasn't a Prince, but then there's no guarantee you ever would have met. 

"Right," you mouth, offering him a small smile. 

"We were meant to be together…" Steve bends at the waist, meeting your eyes. He's yet to kiss you in the week since you met, but his touches come braver everyday, the unfamiliarity between you melding into butterflies. His smirk shakes them awake. "So let's be together the way we want to. Think of princess-ing as optional." 

"And you as mandatory?"

"I'm also optional," he says with a warm laugh. "But dinner is not. I need to know what you like, if we're going to get married."

You practically gulp. Right. You're going to be his soulmate, his princess, and his wife. 

"Don't be scared. I'm not cooking it, chef Joyce is." Steve brushes hair from his eyes like a model from the giant holo screens, unaware of his own attractiveness. "I'm a shitty cook. My talents lie in other things," he drawls grandly, "like lacrosse, and neck massages." 

He winks. You laugh genuinely for the first time since you met him, and his face splits with glee.  

—

if you want to request anything for this AU please do! steampunk princess soulmate and her smitten prince is my new fave thing

#prince!steve au #steve harrington x reader #steve harrington x you #steve harrington x y/n #steve harrington #steve harrington fic #steve harrington blurb #steve harrington drabble #stranger things x reader #stranger things fic #steve harrington imagine #steve harrington fanfic #steve harrington fanfiction #stranger things #stranger things 4

[foryiujeans]

say you love me.

synopsis. after being in an arranged marriage with an arrogant + selfish man, you never realised how much he cared for you even if he was away.

pairings. slightly mean!ricky x fem!reader

warnings. swearing, slightly suggestive.

word count. 5k

general taglist. @forsobeans , @lvieee

“where are you?”

the only sound you could hear was the sound of the engines car cutting through the wind. it’s wheels hitting the road, the low volume of the radio coming in as a mix. having a sudden driver that was sent by your parents pulled up right in front of your house, casually saying that you need to go in and to not be late for the special meeting they said. playing with your phone, your cold hands meeting the device, soon as an incoming call from your father came up.

“i’m on the way, in another,” you took a peek at the window, “ten minutes.”

and with that, you ended the call, placing your phone on your lap when a text notification from your father appeared on your phone.

father : tell the driver to hurry. the shen family is already here, we just need you here to get started.

you thought that this meeting was supposed to be just you and your family, turns out it was just another business related thing to be discussed with. groaning at yourself to actually think that your parents finally paid attention to you, letting out a heavy sigh, you turned your phone off. - what’s there to be discussed that involves you?

you’re just a rather normal business woman, daughter of the fourth largest enterprise around the country, known only because of your sister's success for you to only just be her shadow, father’s little maid around the house back then, and mother’s little assistant. so you thought that there's nothing really special about you, only feeling the affection from your parents years ago.

you had entered your parents mansion, locking in the code before entering. the maid opened the door for you just as you were about to type in the pin. seeing the living room with your whole family and the shen family sitting in front of your family. you bowed and greeted the shen family. they all stared and greeted you back.

then your eyes landed at a rather fine and composed man, with his blonde platinum hair, well kept but he just lets it slicked back. there he sat with his legs crossed, repeatedly running his thumb over his lips. he screams success, wealth and more so power.

"there you are y/n, come now and take a seat right beside quanrui," your father soon jumped in, fully entering yourself inside the big study and closing the door behind you.

"we should start talking about why we we all decided to meet up"

youu followed your father’s orders not having any choice, you walked your way beside quanrui, his cool demeanor already suffocating you just by looking at him.

"well are you just gonna stand there?" he soon piped up, probably noticing you staring at him.

"move.” you ordered, voice laced with confidence and not caring if he's the son of the most successful ceo there is to set foot on this planet. he could only smirk by your confidence, not opening his mouth to say anything else. he moved to his side, giving you some space to sit down right beside him.

"great, let's get started." the man behind the desk boomed its voice around the room.

gazing at the man who you assumed was quanrui’s father, the CEO of shen enterprise. he looks a bit like ricky, just without his bleached hair.

“is it fine if we bring both our businesses together to promote our newest ceo of my company and the new chief executive officer?,” he says, “and if you’re both confused by bringing you both together means..”

and that's when it hit you. you weren't marrying just anyone, you were getting married to shen quanrui.

the well known CEO of shen enterprise- korea’s largest manufacturing company and owning up to 50+ brands. he was part of seoul and china’s most powerful businessmen, and even being one of the eligible bachelors. it made you feel small just by sitting right next to him, he was handsome, intoxicating and very much so mysterious.

it was the look that he always gives you to be so weak, wanting to just run away and hide under your covers, his now tall legs spread out before him, it seems like he owns this look, his dark eyes always barging in on your own.

swallowing down the lump in your throat, you stood up in your seat, leaving your purse behind for you to also feel quanrui’s gaze trail you from behind.

"what about us? did you even ask us if we're happy about this arranged marriage? and i don't want to marry a man who i just met! "

you don't know why you're suddenly raising your voice, you just hate the fact that the work you've put yourself through for the past few years is just going to be thrown out the window like it was nothing. you wish your whole adulthood to be free, planning on existing loudly with giving zero cares about the world, yet here you are catching the eyes of your parents and your soon to be husband as well.

"well, i’m going to ask you two now..." quanrui’s mother spoke up, facing her son and you.

"do you want this marriage?"

"no-'

"yes" standing there with great shock, you looked over your shoulder and down at quanrui, now having his arms crossed around his chest, agreeing to this marriage like a business matter.

"very well, we will leave the two of you be, and when we all come back here in this room, the papers should be signed already"

feeling powerless all of a sudden, you can't hear anything, only the sounds of their shoes hitting the well carpeted floors heading out to leave the room.

that's until you felt a hand being placed on your shoulder, looking up you faced your mother, a small yet sweet smile on her lips.

"sign the papers please darling, this would help us rise from being unknown to being known, this would bring happiness to our name, even our reputation would increase…. sign the papers" she finished, eyes watching her leave the room as well.

now here you are with him, the killer silence of the study making your ears hurt. you faced him, a frown sitting on your face making him look at you, smirking. bringing out his own pen, his long slender hands opening his cross pen with his family name engraved in gold.

"why did you say yes?"

"they’ve been talking about this whole marriage ever since i set foot back here, it made my ears hurt, so I said yes to make them stop setting me up with twenty different women already." he shrugged it off, walking his way towards his father's desk where the papers that needed to be signed layed on top.

"are you fine about all of this?" you asked, voice failing to not shake when he turned and faced you.

those eyes stared at you for a moment, noticing them look up and down your body almost like he's studying you.

not knowing the reason why he agreed to get married to somebody like you, a much less known woman when there should be many beautiful girls ahead of you.

"hmm?" he spoke up, hunching down the desk to have a more comfortable position to sign down the papers, watching the way he did it with just one go, no hesitation at all, signing his name with his signature.

"i don't care, i don't want my family name to be dragged down in dirt, and it means i get to see your annoying face every day." he ended, deep voice sounding like honey meets your ears.

you looked at his back facing you, what he said earlier still filled your mind like some hard test, he's fine on helping your parent's company even if it costs his freedom as the CEO to get ruined, you could see it, you could see that he's not ready for all of this. So his family is willing to help yours, you slowly took the pen away from his hands, his own pen caging down your delicate hands, catching him off guard.

he stood there beside you, watching as you signed down the papers with your name and signature right beside his, it's the least thing you could do to make your parents proud, putting your whole life under this piece of paper. he was about to grab his pen back from you, that's when your grip around it tightens, quiet sniffles coming out of you as for his eyes to catch freshly salted tears hit the carpet floors.

shen quanrui didn't know what to do, not the type to comfort somebody that well. are you really sad about this whole marriage?

suddenly there was a grey handkerchief coming close to your vision, looking up, you met his hand extended out to you with his handkerchief sitting on top.

"wipe your tears away it makes you look weak.” he scoffed, waiting for you to take it.

oh, how annoying and stupid is he?

this day was dreadful, here you are standing just before the grand doors of a wedding you never asked for, having to follow your wish to make your parents happy for at least once from you. you felt the weight of your unknown future welcoming you as you began walking down the red carpeted aisle.

all that you have now is yourself, and shen quanrui.

he couldn't help but kiss his teeth, knowing that you're probably feeling way more worse than he is right now, but he was clenching his fists, finding himself to relate.

he grabbed both of your hands, trying to finally comfort you in front of everyone, running his thumb over your knuckles, feeling how cold they are and how warm his hands are. and then the sound of the priest's voice became audible, this word could change everything.

"i pronounce you husband and wife, you may now kiss the bride.”

the two of you locked eyes for a moment, letting go of your hands as quanrui saw that you were already looking at him, starstruck at first, he felt his world stop moving when he looked deeply in your eyes.

finally seeing your face fully because when the two of you first met which was weeks ago, he didn't get a clear view of your face. his eyes trailed down vour lins awaiting the kiss that will probably feel awkward.

feeling the pads of his thumb wipe away your tears, cupping your cheeks as he leaned in, his intoxicating scent still taking the air away from your lungs.

he suddenly stopped, placing his mouth right next to your ear as he whispered some words deeply.

"don’t make that face, it’ll be fine." and with that, he cupped your cheeks, still feeling tears in the corner of your eyes for him to wipe it away, hating to see you like this now. he pressed his lips with your own, surprisingly they were soft, and he guided you through the kiss by placing a hand behind your back.

still standing there in shock, you inhaled deeply and returned the kiss, you swore you felt him smile through the kiss. finishing off with him running his tongue down your bottom lip. you pulled away, crimson cheeks not afraid to hide when you faced him, holding your hand and intertwining them together. the two of you faced everybody, cheers and smiles everywhere for your eyes to see. you took a quick glance to your side, seeing his smile slowly disappear, his body hugged well by his black ralph lauren tux. it’s the first time you've paid attention to him this whole ceremony, you can't deny the fact that he looks breathtaking.

"do you not get tired eating the same thing over and over again?" you asked the boy in front of you, his attention was simply down at the documents he brought along this trip. it’s been a few days after you got married to the CEO of shen enterprise. a plate of cheesecake present for your husband to dig in deliciously, the two of you agreed to meet at the cafe where you and him would always eat whenever he picks you up after work.

"nope, it's addicting and if i do get tired of eating it, that's when l'm probably dead" he shrugged it off, grabbing a fork and feeding himself another serve.

you could only roll your eyes at him playfully, drifting your attention back outside where the car is up for a show to everyone who walks and drives past it. you furrowed your eyebrows when you heard your him let out a groan, probably because he’s tired of work.

"give me a tissue.” he ordered.

"excuse me?, it's right in front of you" you pointed at the thing he was looking for.

"i can't reach it.” he tiredly responded, leaning back on his chair as he made no efforts on reaching for the tissues.

"i can't believe you.” you gave in and grabbed the pile of tissues but instead of giving it to him properly you threw it straight into his face. instead of saying something, your husband could only laugh, even though he hates seeing your face, he appreciates what you do for him.

“my, what a surprise to see you two here.” a voice barged into the conversation, knowing who it is by heart you and quanrui looked up seeing zhanghao also here, sunglasses on, a suit present for he looks like he just finished shooting another magazine cover, a cup of coffee on hand as he sat himself down the same table with you and ricky.

"what are you doing here, hyung?" quanrui took off first by asking a question to the eyebreaking intruder.

"i just finished doing my rounds of photoshoots and stopped by to grab myself some coffee." the boy could only roll his eyes at his friend.

"oh, so it is true!" zhanghao voice suddenly shocked you, jumping from your seat and you turned and looked at her questionably.

"what is?"

"you got married.” zhanghao eyes can't seem to break away from your wedding ring that quanrui slipped into your ring finger, the shining jewelry glittering under the lights for him to see.

"i thought it was a joke," zhanghao could only bite down his lip, trying his best to not laugh, “since i really thought ricky wasn’t interested in women-”

a smack on the back made the brunette groan and pouted at the younger. you could only laugh and watched the two of them argue.

"i was forced to marry him." you corrected him, turning your head to look at him half heartedly, trying to stay seated and not lose it on zhanghao when he gave you a teasing look.

“sorry for not coming to your wedding. i was in jeju for some work,” zhanghao only nodded, giving you a small smile, “i have to go, a meeting starts in thirty minutes.”

he bids goodbye to the two of you, walking out to his car to drive off back to his own company, leaving both you and ricky in the café.

"can i have your phone?" quanrui suddenly asked, leaning towards the table as he watched you from the front, who was busy looking at the café’s inside interior.

"why?" you were quick to turn around, an eyebrow raised to show confusion by his sudden words.

"just give me it.” he almost sounds like he's whining, leaving you smiling to yourself on how cute he could be even though he's still in his sharp suit.

he's still waiting for your phone. letting out a sigh to roll out of your lips you nodded your head at him.

"it's in my purse.” you trailed off, turning your attention back to the matter of hand which was washing the dishes.

you could've sworn you saw how his face lit up by the moment you said that. his eyes then trailed over to where your purse is, opening it up as he wasted no time to grab your phone, how stupid of him actually to think that he knows the password. when quanrui returns, you're already staring.

"open it"

he gave you your phone, not even asking what's going on, you did as you were told. opening your phone and when you did it was snatched away from your hands immediately from him.

"why do i have such a blank name?" he scrunched his nose, showing you your phone with his contact name on the screen as he scrutinized you.

shen quanrui

"i mean it is your name- wait do you want me to give you a nickname?" you finally picked everything up, eyes brightening with playfulness when you caught ricky biting down his lips.

“yeah, give me a nickname and give me one that's cute" he suggested, giving you back your phone.

the way you looked so serious on picking out a nickname for him made him look at you, never knowing that this would be the two of you together behind closed doors, not what he's expecting at all.

he was expecting that the two of you would just ignore each other, go in each other's throats with pure hatred. you nearly laugh out loud when you look at your finished product, his new nickname really making you smile.

cheescake lover!

you noticed this earlier, whenever he picks you up after work and drags you to café’s, he’s always buy blueberry cheesecake.

"this is cute right?" you showed him his contact name, a teasing smile coming in last.

“yah! i can’t believe you.” he then grabs hold of your hand where your phone sits, quickly snatching your phone away from you, turning his back as he typed something down.

"quanrui!" you almost hit his back when you were trying your best to get it back, that's when he finally turned around resulting in you bumping into his chest. cheeks heating up, you looked up seeing him smiling at himself.

"there." he smiled, giving your phone back.

ricky ♡

the simple yet heart shaking name made the red tint on your cheek worsen, never once getting used to seeing his nickname next to a heart. you heard some of his friends call him this, ricky.

"ricky?" you mumbled under your breath.

"then my name better have a nickname on yours too!" you turned your phone off, putting it deep into your pocket where it's completely out of reach from him.

"of course.” ricky says, getting his own phone out and showing you the nickname he puts on you.

only taking note of how his hand made his phone look smaller in size, there he showed you your name.

y/n ♡

maybe being with him wasn’t that bad, the bad thing was he makes fun of you 24/7.

"y/n?"

you straightened yourself up, breathing out while slowly turning your back away to face him, hearing his voice without him singing made your knees weak, it turned deep, with a dulcet of it meeting you.

"hi" you sheepishly responded, a small smile forming in his lips when he noticed the state you're in, the whole scene looked like some father catching his daughter lurking in the hallway at 12am in the morning.

"putting on an all nighter?" ricky soon broke the silence and with every single time you try to break his gaze he would always catch them with just a simple eye contact, it's his thing, being a CEO and a business man with many words he picked up the trait where he would have to keep an eye contact with the one he's talking to.

"i just finished actually.” you said, trying your best to sound alright despite the fact that you're really tired with half of your work still present in your own office.

"can you look at me, y/n?" there was no pressure in his voice, it's the same soft melodic tone when he promised that he would take care of you down the aisle weeks ago. and when you did, the next thing he did surprised you, placing his index finger in the bottom of your chin with his thumb as a support, he looked deeply into your eyes.

"a penny for your thoughts?" ricky’s voice soon brought you back to reality. his soft gaze settles on your face with his sharp jawline being in full view for your eyes to see, he was firm as he faced you, his lips that's only inches away from your sight made your heart run faster than before.

"it's nothing.” you voiced out with a little bit of strength even though you are indeed feeling a little bit sleepy with the clock ticking away. he only looked at you, gazing at the tired features of your face, his brows began to furrow before you picked out a sigh escaping his lips.

"let's go to bed, yeah?" ricky then stood up, setting his guitar down to its stand as he waited for you, nodding your head the two of you walked out of the music room, the cold marbled floors kissing your feet while you walked behind him, his broad shoulders coming into a view as ricky would sometimes run his hand through his luscious raven hair.

"can i ask you something?" he stopped walking, trying to register everything he just said, downright getting flustered by the sudden question for your liking.

"what is it?"

"nevermind." you mumbled quietly after taking a few seconds to take away your question to the blonde.

"y/n, what is it?" you were speechless for the first time because of him, not even knowing what other words to say. a soft chuckle escaped your lips by his current state, now it's your turn to study him. ricky watched you walk up the stairs to be on the same level as him, getting a quick glimpse of your slightly messy hair, your sweet scent greeting his nose along the way. you then stopped, standing on top of a single step to make yourself taller as it made ricky look up at you, the silence of the room embracing the two of you placidly.

“nothing.”

and with that, you backed up away from the blonde and went inside your shared bedroom.

that was a close call.

——————————————————————————

sitting up as you began removing your hair away from your face, looking at the wall clock, seeing that it's late already. thinking that he's already on his way to work, you got yourself ready for the day and headed down stairs, praising yourself on not getting lost inside ricky’s gigantic house. wanting to do a detour when your eyes landed at ricky eating his breakfast when you arrived at the kitchen, him using his other hand to use his cellphone while the other was busy doing its job on feeding him, sitting on a barstool, he was wearing a red knitted sweater that brings out his jet black hair, still wearing the same sweatpants from last night. you want to walk away and just eat some food outside or order something but your stomach wouldn't last long. you don't know why you're acting like this around him even though he was being surprisingly nice to you, maybe it's because you're new to this sudden change of lifestyle and finally living with somebody, for the past years you would sleep alone with only the darkness as your companion, eating alone only with your fork and spoon.

gathering yourself together you entered the kitchen fully, walking past ricky who had his eyebrow up like he's questioning your presence. still, ignoring him you grabbed two pieces of bread that caught your eyes, you suddenly stopped moving, this is not your kitchen so you don't know where everything else was stored. slapping your stupid brain for not functioning, you suddenly heard a chuckle from behind.

“thought you were lost again,” his voice spoke behind you, “just like the first morning you were here.”

a roll of your eyes made him scoff jokingly, ignoring his words. you took your plate and wanted to eat in the living room. your hand holding the perfectly stacked pancakes on your plate and the other hand holding a cup of orange juice.

"baby." you abruptly stopped in your tracks, the thumping on your chest will not stop anytime now.

when you held your place, he walked over to you and turned you around to face him.

ricky continuously walked closer to you with the result of you backing away slowly, you bumped your back to the sink counter and couldn't move any further away from him. he placed both arms on the counter, in between you for him to cage you in.

a smug smirk slipped ricky’s lips, licking them moist as his eyes settled down on your face.

"baby... you like the nickname? huh?"

"n-no.”

"no?

"yes.” a satisfied laugh soon escaped from the lips of the man in front of you, he just completely played with you.

with a pout of annoyance, you gathered the strength to push his arms away and moved to the side as a quick escape. ricky was surprised at first on how you managed to escape his embrace- was it even an embrace? no, it's a trap. it’s a trap to see how every time you push him away, he pulls you in easily, his eyes that look like it's drinking you slowly.

and that made you not step into the living room. you’d prefer to eat on the dining table anyway. hearing a notification and seeing your phone lit up, an email that was sent from your colleague, kim taerae to you.

"what is it?" a voice came out of nowhere, startling you as your gaze got trapped in ricky who happens to be standing right next to you, a glass of water on hand to show that he already finished eating his breakfast.

"a joint project will happen. the dates are not clear yet, and our boss gave me the authority to take care of it.” you sighed, looking down at your wrist watch to see the time. ricky took the time to steal a quick glance over his shoulder to look at you, a soft smile resting on his lips, almost like he's proud.

"you'll do great.”

"i hope so.?”

"you will.” he started watching the trees sway side to side by the calming blow of the wind, the leaves falling down from its branch swayed to touch the ground, you turned and looked at him. his eyelashes were long and soft whenever he would bat them down, his rosy and bow lips were wet when he ran his tongue over them.

words of encouragement from your husband himself.

——————————————————————————

that night when the joint project was happening. the nervousness inside your gut made you panic. the joint project was going in between your company and ricky’s company. if you wrote a report that was not that great, you surely will drop from your chief executive position then.

the blonde saw that you were fiddling with your fingers, staring into space. he was fixing his tie, watching you already dressed from head to toe in the black givenchy dress he made you wear that reached above your knees. he couldn’t lie, you are absolutely gorgeous. he was planning for the event today, he wanted to give out a special thanks to everyone and importantly to his family and you.

looking up from your spot inside the limo, your eyes landed at ricky who is sitting right beside you, his legs sprawled out while he leaned his head back making his adam’s apple on full view for you to see.

he had his eyes closed, there seemed to be a lot of stuff going on inside his mind because he began to wear a visible frown. you want to ask what's wrong with him, is it you? is it this event? or is it the fact that you're sitting right next to him?, you just can't read him.

"we should really act like a couple once we step out of this limo, there will be a lot of cameras and news reporters.” ricky stated the obvious, and just when the limo took a turn, your eyes caught sight of the venue from the outside, packed with people and cameras flashing like they're some fireworks. there he finally opened his eyes, the first thing his eyes saw was you looking at him, he could easily read you like an opened book, the way you would blink faster whenever he catches your gaze for you to just break them, and the way you nervously bit down your lip by all of this sudden pressure of making a public appearance with him.

you nodded your head as you let out a heavy sigh, grabbing your purse when the vehicle put into a stop. ricky unbuckled his seatbelt and so did you.

when he opened the door and stepped out, greeting you with his warm smile as he held out his hand for you, you smiled back sweetly when you noticed some cameras flashing.

“smile for the camera.” he whispered near your ears, holding onto your waist as you both stepped out of the limo.

after taking some pictures, you both saw your friends and colleagues waiting for you at the sides. ricky noticed you looking at your friends and tapped your waist for you to look at him.

“we’ll see each other after the party.”

and with that, he was gone to meet his colleagues and other CEOS from other companies.

oh god, how tired were you tonight.

walking towards the chair where the blazer of his suit was but stopped after hearing your small grunts of defeat, eyebrows coming together in confusion but his face relaxed after realizing the situation that you're in.

"do you need help?" ricky asked you from the other side of the curtain, his shoes peeking through the small gap from below. you looked at yourself in front of the mirror, the dress fitted you like a glove but the only problem was the zipper at the back, it was so high, you couldn’t unzip it on your own.

you were awake for the first two hours of the drive, making use of yourself to keep ricky company inside the car because if it gets too quiet he might get tired and fall asleep without your attention, it was almost 2am.

ricky drummed his fingers to the steering wheel whilst opening the storage compartment between the two of you, taking out one of his glasses to shade his eyes from the bright sun. he looked so good, his slightly messy hair from all of the times he would run a hand through them, and now that he's wearing glasses that rests on the bridge of his sharp nose.

both the event and the drive was exhausting for the both of you.

“y/n,” ricky calls up to you and made you hum after he unzipped your dress, “you know i care for you, right?”

the sudden question caught you off guard, turning to look at him and felt that your heart thumped inside your chest when he came close to you. you never really questioned it but you did thought every single day that did he even care for you since he married you? you didn’t even know whether it was a yes or no.

“to be honest, i’m not sure. you’re always busy, i’m always busy so i never really thought of it. just when mother asked me to marry you. did you even-“

"i want to be a good man and see you smile," he started, straightening up his posture, the urge to see you happy itched his brain, remembering the picture of the two of you laughing beside the fountain that one day, the time where you helped him control a claw machine. knowing where this is leading yet everything goes following each other, watching as the both of you go round and round each time.

"and i want to hold you in my arms tonight."

ricky confessed, standing tall for his eyes to watch you mirror his actions. both trying to find answers in each other's eyes, you took in everything he just said, the bubbling feeling inside your stomach mentioning to you what to do. his voice was a trigger.

his eyes drifted down to your swollen lips on how much you bit them earlier, they were red as a rose along with your cheeks shining down the moonlight from the window beside you. fuck it.

cupping your cheeks and what ricky did next didn't surprise you at all, the feeling of his soft lips met yours, almost forgetting how they felt, he kissed them with so much passion. he’s taking over you slowly, you grabbed his nape and pulled him down so he could meet your height.

"baby.." he spoke up, stopping your actions with a warm cup on your cheek by his hand. the moment you locked eyes with him everything seemed to stop, the flutter inside your heart from his words earlier was still in you. the way he called you out made you love the nickname more than you usually do.

sighing, you settled on top of him and hugged ricky who returned the favor to cuddle you under everything that just happened. both hearts beating right next to each other to create a calm euphoria.

"baby" the sound of his tender voice caught your attention, it almost sounded like a whisper.

"yes?" what is it?" you returned, turning your head to look at him, thinking that he was asking you for some help or anything.

"i love you" those three words never failed to make your heart go feral for it also came from ricky who said those to you.

"and I love you too." you came back, putting a tight smile for your lover.

say you love me.

a/n ! thank you so much for reading and giving me requests. i’m thankful that you guys enjoyed reading it and giving all the notes and support. i do not own any characters, music or pics given, will definitely work harder for the next ones !

signing out, miaaa hihi !

#zb1 #zb1 oneshots #zerobaseone #zerobaseone imagines #zb1 fics #zb1 imagines #zb1 x reader #zerobaseone fics #zerobaseone x reader #shen ricky #shen quanrui #ricky imagines #shen ricky imagines #ricky x reader #shen ricky x reader #shen ricky fics

[almostgenerallyalways]

mamas (don’t let your babies grow up to be cowboys)

Pairing: Jake Seresin x fem!reader Category: angst / fluff / run-on sentences Word count: 3,1k CW: language, I’ve been to Texas once okay forgive me, divorce Author’s note: this was supposed to be a holiday fic but I got stuck on it and almost abandoned it, but here it is rescued from my drafts, shoutout to all the amazing tgm fic writers your writing truly astounds me

Summary: Every year around the holidays, you hear from your ex. This year when you don’t respond, he decides to show up at your door. 

2022

Jake UT  [November 23, 2022 at 10:24 PM]

Hey stranger

Visiting my mom for Thanksgiving

How’ve you been?

You ignore the message. How you’ve been in the last twelve months is not something you feel up to discussing with him.

You spend the next weeks dealing with crisis after crisis at work, leaning into the chaos like you have been all year. Your personal life? Garbage fire. Reconfiguring your entire pump setup two weeks before going to production, because the DoC slapped an import ban on one of your key suppliers in China? You’re on top of it.

But then, the week before Christmas, another message comes in:

Jake UT  [December 17th, 2022 at 3:47 PM]

Hey

In town for the holidays

Would love to see you if you’re free

Brett welcome too, of course

A pang in your chest, but curiosity gets the better of you, so you text back:

Thanksgiving and Christmas? Judy must be thrilled.

You’ve met Jake’s mom all of one time, ten years ago, but she made a lasting impression. Fiercely protective of her only son, she’d been wary of you at first (you were, in order of importance: Too non-Texan, too vegetarian, and too focused on trying to rescue an almost-due group project for your sustainable water management class in which no one was pulling their weight).

And yet, over the Thanksgiving weekend you’d spent at Jake’s mother’s house in Colton, she’d slowly warmed up to you. You’d asked her endless questions about her job as a project manager at Austin-Bergstrom, and she’d poured you half glasses of wine (still exotic, to you, back then) at the kitchen island, shooing Jake back into the living room.

She’d even called you, after you guys broke up, to say she was sorry to hear it, and to tell you to call her up any time you needed someone to talk to. You’d tried your best to keep your voice even, not to break down in tears for the seventh time that day, and never called her again.

* * *

“Dude. Put your phone away for two minutes.”

Jake looks up apologetically at his friend, and pockets the device. “Sorry. Just expecting a text.”

Sandeep holds out his bottle of Lone Star, and Jake clinks it with his own. “It’s good to see you, man. Sorry I wasn’t around at Thanksgiving, we were visiting Jed’s family in NC. I didn’t expect you to be back so soon.”

Jake takes a swig of his beer, the cold liquid feeling like a balm to his throat. “Yeah, well. It’s been a big year, work-wise, so they owed me one. I wanted to spend some extra time with my mom.”

Bringing up his drink to toast again, Sandeep says: “Here’s to you, bud. And to getting that permanent assignment in California. At least we knew where to send our holiday card this year.”

Condensation drips down the neck of his bottle, and Jake spins it slowly in his hand, stopping himself from peeling off the label. He feels on edge, unmoored, despite this 6th Street dive bar being as familiar to him as the back of his own hand.

Sandeep’s got his number. “Seeing anyone else while you’re in town? I don’t know, Myers?”

Jake doesn’t look up, but feels his cheeks heat up fractionally.

His friend takes another swig of his beer. “I guess I should stop calling her Myers. You know, with the divorce and all.”

The bottle escapes Jake’s grip, and amber liquid sloshes across the table, into Sandeep’s lap. “Shit, Seresin! Grab some napkins, will you?”

* * *

 2012

 You’d always known there was an expiration date on this thing with Jake, which is why you’d been reluctant to meet his mom to begin with.

You wanted fundamentally different things. He, the Navy: Adventure, excitement, a chance to serve his country. You: Stability. A family. A place where you belonged.

Both of you: an opportunity to prove yourself.

It’s civil, as far as breakups go.

“You always knew I wanted to fly.” He says, over breakfast at Magnolia Café. There’s a hard set to his jaw that makes you soften in contrast, because of course you do, everyone who’s ever been near Jake Seresin for longer than ten minutes knows he’s always wanted to fly.

From your first date he told you about how Judy used to park him in her office at the airport when her summer childcare fell through; little Jake happily spending the day watching commercial jets taxiing and taking off in quick succession.

How her coworkers, the civilian engineers who’d stayed on after Bergstrom Air Force Base was decommissioned and commercialized, would regale him with stories about generations of F-4 Phantoms. Or the British Airways Concorde, one of only twenty of the ill-fated aircraft ever made, bringing the Queen to Austin in a little yellow hat. The Reconnaissance Air Meet bringing in the best fighter pilots from across all divisions of the military and abroad, to compete and show off their skills.

Jake would listen to them with stars in his eyes.

You pick at your migas, your appetite gone. “I know, Jake. I would never stop you.”

But you look at him, and you know your face mirrors his determination. “But I can’t come with you, Jake. I can’t start my career following you around from camp to base year to year. I’m forty-thousand dollars in debt getting this degree, and I need to follow my own plan.”

You haven’t moved in together, though Jake spends most of his nights at your tiny off-campus apartment, where you’ve made him countless cups of black coffee trying to fuel weekend study sessions. Where he would come in past midnight, back from the late shift at his part-time job at the H-E-B, and bury his face in your neck, waking you up even though you’d been asleep for hours. Where you would hold his sleeping head to your chest, his deep breathing somehow felt inside of you, and run your fingers up and down the bare skin of his back, trying to memorize him.

You’re twenty-two, you tell yourself. This is not the end of the world.

So you see him off at the front door, a box of his things clutched to his chest, and you force yourself to be strong. “You better be,” and you try to smile up at him, but you’re not sure you’re doing a convincing job, “You better be the best goddamn pilot the Navy has ever seen, Jake.”

For a second, he looks like he wants to say something, but then he just puts down the box, and pulls you into a last embrace. You sink into it, the fundamentally safe feeling of his arms around you, then make yourself pull away after a minute, pretending you don’t see the wet stains on his shirt.

Later you look at all the spaces in your apartment he is now conspicuously absent from (no dog-eared volume of Game of Thrones on the nightstand, no boots by the door), and it hits you then; the crevasse he’s left in your life. It may run deeper than you thought.

* * *

Jake had gone to Officer Candidate School in Rhode Island, then designator-specific training in Pensacola, Florida, and done his best not to think about you.

It helped that his days were intense and exhausting. It helped that, on liberty weekends, girls would flock to him and his friends in bars.

It helped to be several states away from you.

It helped to be living his dream.

* * *

There is a bit of a backslide, that first Thanksgiving after, where you both think it can’t hurt to see each other for one drink, for old time’s sake, which ends in him taking you up against the door in your new apartment, your legs wrapped around his waist because he does not have the willpower or presence of mind to figure out the way to your bedroom.

He knows it was a mistake, at about five AM the next day, when the blue light of morning starts streaming through a gap in the curtains, illuminating your tousled hair fanned out over the pillow, the steady rise and fall of your chest so familiar to him he could cry.

Untangling himself from you hurts, and he does perhaps the most cowardly thing he ever will: he sneaks out before you wake up. But next week he’s shipping out, and the thought of the same dead-end conversation over coffee made just the way he likes it is unbearable, so he makes himself walk away.

Somehow it’s worse, the second time around.

* * *

You’d met someone else, like he’d known you would. He sees the engagement announcement on Facebook, browsing on his phone between drills, and likes the post. It’s the third year he’s been away, and he’s at TOPGUN by then, so he has a lot on his mind. He has a girlfriend, even, a local: cute as a button, beats him savagely at pool.

It doesn’t fully hit him until the first time he sees you with your then-fiancé, at a little holiday reunion of college friends. He sees you with that ring on your finger, another man’s arm around your shoulders, and he gets an acute sense of the alternate reality that could’ve been his.

It feels a little like losing altitude too fast.

Your initial reception of him is understandably frosty, but you seem too genuinely happy to hold a grudge. By the third round, when he sidles up to you at the bar, you give him a quick hug, looking up at him with a smile that squeezes his heart: “I’m so proud of you, Jake.”

He nods, not quite trusting himself to speak, and pulls you back in, just for a moment, tucking your head under his chin. You smell like apple and magnolia, like nights spent with his nose pressed into your back.

You don’t invite him to the wedding, and he’s all too glad not to have to make up an excuse not to go.

* * *

Things settle, after that. Jake gets deployed and reassigned, breaks up with his girlfriend and eventually gets another. You get promoted to senior engineer, then project lead. You see each other, not every year but close enough, sometimes with your husband there, sometimes without.

He braces himself for the next Facebook post; that you’re pregnant, but it never comes. Over time, even that seems to lose some of its potential emotional impact on him.  

Until three weeks ago, when you don’t text him back.

* * *

 2022

 You kick your shoes off in the entryway, then head into the kitchen to pour a glass of water. Before you can reach the tap, the doorbell rings, and for a second you think somehow, some way, your terrible Bumble date has followed you home.

Grabbing the biggest kitchen knife you own off the magnet strip over the sink, just in case, you creep back to the door, barefoot, to press your face up to the peephole.

You don’t really expect to see the guy you just left, the ice in your glass not even melted before you were thinking up excuses to get out of there, but you sure as fuck don’t expect to see Jake either.

The door feels heavier than usual as you slowly slide it open, or maybe you’re just a little stunned. The night air hits your skin, and you can make out the sound of dogs barking in the distance.

For a long moment, Jake just looks at you, but then he says: “What were you planning on doing with that, sweetheart?”

You follow the jut of his chin down the line of your arm, and contemplate the knife for a second, Jake’s sudden appearance having made you forget all about it.

“I thought someone might have followed me here.”

“Ah.” He says, a spark in his eyes, clearly suppressing a smile. “If you were going to defend yourself in hand-to-hand combat, a knife is a terrible choice. I could give you some tips, though.”

Putting the damn thing down on your entryway console, you turn back to look at him. It’s not cold, exactly, in December in South Central Austin, but he looks underdressed: a long-sleeved light grey t-shirt, hands shoved in the pockets of a faded pair of jeans.

He looks good, you can’t deny it: he’s always had an immediate effect on you.

Jake, your somewhat gangly, sweet college boyfriend had it. Jake, ten years of military training later: older, filled out, fine crinkly lines starting to appear at the corners of his eyes (helped along by the California sun and God knows what far-off places), irrevocably still does.

You shake your head, trying to clear your thoughts. “What are you doing here, Jake?”

At that, his expression sobers, and he looks at you for a long moment before he says:

“You didn’t tell me.”

* * *

Fucking Sandeep, you think, rubbing the back of your hand across your eyes, because that fucker has not been subtle with the hints lately, tutting like a Victorian matron while you pass the time evaluating your Bumble matches with his husband during Monday night football’s ad breaks.

The granite of your kitchen countertop feels reassuringly cool beneath your thighs, and you take a deep breath, keeping your eyes on the tile below:

“I wasn’t ready.”

Jake huffs, or so you assume by the little sound that escapes him, as you determinedly face only his sneakers: “It’s been a year. You sure told everyone else we know.”

That makes your head snap up, emotion rising in your chest in a way you don’t like, have always had to tamp down when it comes to him, these last ten years. “Fuck off, Jake. You know it’s different when it comes to you.”

He leans back against the fridge, arms folded, just slightly lifting his right eyebrow at you in that irritating way of his: “I could’ve been there for you.”

Fuck it, you think, all cards on the table then. “I was heartbroken, and embarrassed, and trying to figure out how to exist on my own again after being married for five years to someone who didn’t turn out to be who I thought he was, Jake. Sorry my first impulse wasn’t to come cry on my hometown hero ex-boyfriend’s shoulder.”

His eyes soften, and he pushes off the fridge to come stand next to you, running his fingers over the edge of the countertop. “I’m sorry,” he says, voice quieter than a moment ago. “I’m being a dick. It’s just, you have to know, I would’ve been there for you.”

He pauses for a second, takes a deep breath: “It’s always been different when it comes to you too, sweetheart.”

You start to shake, a little, or maybe it’s your imagination. But your voice wavers as you say his name, everything about your tone a warning: “Jake.”

He closes his eyes, shakes his head: “Our timing sucked, and I don’t regret our decision from back then. I’m proud of who I’ve become in the last ten years, and I’m proud of you. You think I don’t keep up with what you’re doing? The articles you’ve published?”

This stuns you, momentarily. “No, Jake Seresin. If I’m completely honest, I didn’t think you gave a shit about the latest advances in Texas drought management.”

Just being near him, the familiar smell of him bringing up memories you’ve had years to unsuccessfully repress, is overpowering.

He makes it worse by turning to you, face so goddamn heartbreakingly earnest as he says: “I couldn’t give you what you deserved, ten years ago, but I always told myself, if I was ever in a position to…” He swallows. “I tried to forget about it when you got married, I tried to root for you and Brett, I swear.”

His hand settles next to your thigh, not quite touching, and your hand comes down on its own accord to cover his. He straightens almost imperceptibly, uses his other palm to wipe a tear that’s made its way down your cheek.

Cupping your face, he draws a deep breath. “I have a permanent assignment now, in San Diego. I know it’s…”

“Jake.” You interrupt, squeezing your eyes shut, grabbing the hem of his shirt. “I’m not remotely the same person I was back then.”

He moves to stand in front of you now, and you draw him in between your thighs. Suddenly it seems imperative that you feel him, that he holds you.

Dipping his head to yours, you can hear the smile in his voice, watery, tentative: “Then let me get to know you again. Get to know me again.” He leans one hand on the counter, the other tracing your cheekbone. “No pressure. I’m totally very cool about this. Whatever you want.”

You laugh, a little choked up through tears, but genuine. It feels liberating. “What if I say yes? How does this work?”

His smile broadens, eyes crinkling at the corners, and he’s so goddamn close, nudging your nose with his. “Come visit me, for a start. I’ll show you the sights.”

You draw him in a little closer still, legs wrapping around his waist, one hand finding its way into his close-cropped hair, and you could cry for how familiar he still feels after all these years.

But when you close the gap between your lips and his, it’s like coming home and yet not at all: he’s different and rougher and sharper and it floods you with emotion, something big and terrifying and old and new.

He leans into the kiss, grinning, cards his fingers through your hair before he moves to cover your chin, your brow, the space next to your ear with kisses, and you remember this with a jolt to your heart – how singularly intense it is to be the focus of Jake Seresin, like the strength of the sun is aimed at you, how he never does anything by halves.

You take his chin in your hand, kiss him again for good measure, before saying, into the stubble of his jaw: “One visit. No pressure.”

The grin he gives you in return could power half this city: “One visit. No pressure.”

He dips his head to yours again, kissing the skin behind your ear as he tells you: “Southern California has a lot of drought problems, you know. I’ve actually been reading some really scary articles about it.”

.

.

.

i hope you enjoyed :):) - if you liked this I hope you’ll check out some of my other work:

where the wild things are (rooster x reader)

cross my heart (hangman x reader) masterlist

#tgm fic #tgm fanfiction #jake seresin x reader #jake hangman seresin x reader #jake seresin x you #jake hangman seresin x you #top gun maverick fic #why am i like this i stg

[faerygrant]

waiting room - carmen berzatto x reader.

summary: Carmen’s neglect of your relationship finally comes to a boiling point on the eve of your ten month anniversary.

The table had been set, your favourite China, courtesy of Pete and Nat upon their return from a couples trip two months ago. The bathroom adorned with rose petals and illuminated by a fiery orange flame, vanilla bean scent of your overpriced candles billowing throughout. The bubbles hadn’t subsided, still foamy and enlarged, though you were sure the water had probably gone cold by now.

You sunk to your knees, the caps hitting the cold hexagon shaped tiles leaving you to slightly shudder. All at once, you blew the candles out, the itch in your throat only growing. At any moment now you knew you’d crack, it was only a matter of time.

Once the candles were blown out, the tub drained leaving the damp petals to cling to the sides of the bathtub you made your way back to the dining room, the glistening China never failing to catch your attention.

You took a seat, the Picarde you’d worked so hard on preparing for Carmy was still placed in the middle of the table, covered by aluminium foil. The 2006 bottle of Barossa Shiraz, a gift from his uncle, peaked your interest leading you to pour a glass full for yourself.

With your glass in hand, wrapped up in your white robe you scattered out of the dining and into the living area, where you sat solemnly on the sofa. You’d taken off the dress you’d bought specifically for this night, if Carmy couldn’t remember to even show for your ten month anniversary, there was no reason he deserved the effort you put into looking nice for him.

Your relationship had started of very spur of the moment, introduced to him by a friend in highschool you’d lost contact once he set off for New York but still frequently thought about him. Once he was back in Chicago the two of you were set up on a date by said friend and things took off from there. The honeymoon stage had been almost perfect, his time, attention, affection it was all on you. But as the restaurant became busier and business grew, his attention shifted and his attempts to keep you happy had turned lousy.

So here you were, clad in your white bathrobe and a two piece set from agent provocateur you’d planned on surprising him with. A glass of Shiraz in hand and a heart that was slowly breaking every second the man you loved remained away from you.

At least 30 minutes had gone by and by this point the bottle of Shiraz had found it’s way into your lap, when the sound of the keys fiddling sounded from the door.

“Yo, you still up?” Carmen’s voice calls from behind the sofa, though you make no effort to acknowledge him. You can smell a mix of cologne and cigarette on him as he rounds the sofa and takes a seat by you. He makes no mention of your silence, almost as if he doesn’t notice it. Instead he opts to toe off his shoes and stretch into the chair.

“We were fucked today, Syd and I tried to keep shit running smoothly but we shat the bed with the new recipe. Salty as fuck, don’t think that balsamic glaze could save it” he speaks, his hands covering his face as he leans backwards, clad in his usual pristine white tee and black slacks. You once again simply ignore his words, waiting for him to address the elephant in the room.

“You listenin’ or am I talking to myself?” He brings his hands away from his face, finally acknowledging you. You place your glass of wine down and simply shrug.

“Alright what the fuck is the matter? You fuckin ignored my texts all day, I tried not to make a big deal of it, now m’home tryna’ tell you about my day and you’re not sayin’ shit?” He yells, louder than necessary, the vein in his neck bulging like it always does when he’s upset. His outbursts don’t frighten you though, not anymore atleast.

“What day is it today Carmen?” You quietly whisper, arms crossed over the other, your fingers playing with the fuzzy fabric of your robe.

“I-I don’t fuckin’ know, Wednesday?” He questions, elbows on his knees as he stares at you intensely.

“No, I mean what’s the fucking date today Carmen?”

“The 24th, why is this relev-“ he pauses for a second and instantly his eyes bulge. “Oh fuck, oh shit.”

“Exactly.” You mumble, watching as he goes red, already beating himself up.

“I’m so fuckin sorry, I- I fuck- I don’t even- fuck.” He yells, standing up and pacing the living area, refusing to meet your gaze.

“I’m a fuckin idiot, I’m sorry, I’m so fuckin sorry I don’t even know how I could forget I just, I- I don’t know.” He blabbers and you simply shrug. Your silence killing him.

“Say somethin, fucks sakes, anything.” He pleads with you.”

“I have nothing to say Carmen.” You stand from the sofa, face to face with him, his eyes already fling red, tears rolling down his red face and stray hairs sticking to his forehead.

“Please, fuckin take it out on me I deserve it” he grabs your arms placing them against his chest, pleading with you to hurt him like he hurt you.

“Fine, you want me to take it out on you, I will. I planned this whole dinner, a special night for the two of us since you’ve been working nonstop for the last two months and in return you couldn’t even remember our anniversary. I’ve tried Carmy, so hard to be understanding of your job but I can’t be left to wait for you forever.” A lone tear dropping from your eyes, as you watched his face fall in realisation.

“What’re you doin?, hm what’re you tryna say?” He yells with urgency. The purple-ish blue veins bulging and illuminating his pale skin.

“Carmen I’m not going to be left in the waiting room forever, I refuse to be second in a game I know I’ll never win. Your job means the world to you and I’m not going to make you choose.”

“You- I- please don’t do this, don’t do this, please don’t fuckin do this. I- I lo- I love you” He sniffles, hands bringing your face to his, both your heads leaning against the others.

“It’s for the better.” You whisper, eyes closed, forehead against his and heart shattering.

#carmen berzatto x reader #carmy x reader #carmen berzatto x you

[tuktukpodfics]

Just popping by to say that 'Wanyi' and your words for why it's a good name for Zuko's ship hit me like a sack of bricks to the chest. absolutely incredible choice, I am REELING.

I'm glad you found it so touching!

I haven’t read Embers. I thought MuffinLance intentionally named Zuko’s warship 萬一 (one in ten thousand, what if) from the start. It’s been a bit bewildering to see a mistake become new fanon. 

At risk of ruining the sentimentality of the name Wanyi, I would issue a few caveats to people adopting it for their fics. It’s really more of a retrofit of the old name—something to rebrand while sounding and looking similar enough to Wani to not be distracting. 

Wanyi is pinyin romanization, used in the People’s Republic of China. You could just as easily spell it Wan-i or Wani. Canon uses a mix of romanization methods. However, if the goal is rebranding, Wanyi makes sense.

Wanyi isn’t an Authentic™ historical Chinese boat name. That would be something like Galloping Clouds or Tranquil Seas. 

You might want to use a different culture instead of Chinese for Zuko’s warship. Canonically, there are Fire Nation characters with Chinese inspired names, like Zhao, Piandao, and Shyu, but if your fan-fiction is drawing more inspiration from Japanese or Thai culture, maybe a different name is more suited. 

Wanyi is often used for negative what-ifs. An unlikely disaster. Zuko is, after all, a disaster magnet. And the cause of many misfortunes. 

Wanyi literally means one in ten thousand, but it is grammatically used to indicate an extremely unlikely possibility. Like finding the avatar. To me, it feels ominous, anxious, yearning in an unrealistic sort of way, which I think all speak to Zuko's character arc. Idk, what do other Chinese speakers think?

#atla #avatar the last airbender #Wanyi #Wani #Ten-thousand is used to just mean something is countlessly large #One vs ten thousand = one vs an inconceivably big number #aka near-impossible #The library spirit Wanshitong’s name is translated as “he who knows ten thousand things” but it also just means “he who knows everything.” #Yeah it’s not authentic but canon is pretty fast and loose with authenticity the forest is just named Senlin (Chinese for forest)

[winwintea]

nct and pet names

pairing ▸ random!nct members x reader (yuta, ten, jaehyun, renjun, jaemin, chenle, riku, sakuya) author's note ▸ i was inspired by another post, but wanted to go for a more realistic feeling, especially towards the foreign idols. enjoy my brainrot. also there needs to be more wish content on here i beg

yuta - naishinno 

this man would definitely call you ‘gorgeous’, ‘divine’, or ‘princess’. but he’d prefer and be more comfortable to say such words in his native tongue. he also found out how much you enjoyed hearing him speak japanese, so sometimes on purpose he’ll sneak up behind you and whisper, “naishinno…'' (meaning princess in japanese)  startling you but also making your ears turn pink. yuta also has no problem with using the pet name within earshot of others, and as much as you protest, he assures you that no one really understands.

ten - mi mi 

hear me out guys. hear me out. ten our beloved cat mom would definitely call you something relating to cats. he’s not calling you “kitten” because um that’s kinda cringe… but he would go for something cuter. “mao mi” is the chinese word for cat, (I KNOW HE'S THAI. BEAR WITH ME OKAY) and people usually refer to kittens as “mi mi” (it’s like the most basic name an owner can give to their cat too) most of the time, nicknames are usually duplicated characters, and mi mi is also a very common nickname for girls. it also means ‘tits’. so ten decided that was the best nickname in the world and he was an absolute genius for coming up with it, and so now you’re stuck with being called his “mi mi” for life. good luck. 

jaehyun - cara mia/mi amor/ma cherie 

jaehyun LOVES pet names. it’s a rare feat if he ever calls you by your first name. ‘sweetheart’, ‘darling’, ‘honey’. he uses them all. but jaehyun is a classy bitch, and he likes to keep things fancy, so his favorites are using different languages, just because it somehow sounds more expensive and full of taste and that’s exactly what he feels you deserve. some of his favorites include: “cara mia” the italian words for ‘my beloved’; “mon amour” & “mi amor” the french and spanish words for ‘my love’; and finally, “ma cherie” the french words for ‘darling/sweetheart’. (stream mon amour by gemini guys)

renjun - qin ai de/qin qin/lao po 

okay yes renjun is using chinese, but not straight away into the relationship. let’s get that cleared up out of the way. he’ll initially start with ‘my dearest’, and uses his sweet voice to his advantage. “qin ai de y/n, could you do something for me real quick? pretty please?” but eventually as the relationship progresses on and he feels more comfortable, he’ll start dropping the “lao po” (‘wife’ in chinese) on you, which initially comes as a culture shock, because you haven’t even thought of getting to that stage yet. renjun teaches you of how common it is in china for non-married couples to call each other husband and wife, and even teaches you how to say ‘lao gong’ (husband)

jaemin - pookie

once jaemin discovers this word it’s joeover for you. one day you accidentally call him, ‘pookie’ to his face (which is what you would often use when referring to him around others) and he is so intrigued by the word he demands an explanation as to what it means. and when he realizes it’s true purpose, it’s true meaning, he’ll be taking that word to the GRAVE. and this brat uses it EVERYWHERE. on text, in person, in front of your friends. he will never spare you the pain and embarrassment. but he just wants to let you know how much he loves you, truly. his pookie <3

chenle - bao bei

immediately into your relationship chenle throws around ‘babe’ and ‘baby’ like crazy. this man knows what he wants because he quickly found out that if he slurred his words while saying, “bao bei a~” you would fold immediately. not afraid of saying it in front of others because the only one who understands are the c-liners (but eventually everyone catches on) chenle also somehow makes it seem so casual and natural. ‘bao bei’ also directly translates to treasure, and he’ll occasionally add in a ‘xiao’ (little) at the beginning when praising you or giving you compliments.

riku/sakuya - pan-san

I was originally just going to do riku, but figured i’d just shove these two together, but mostly write about riku.

sakuya and riku both like bread, the only difference is that while both want to work at a bakery, sakuya cannot cook to save his life and riku can actually bake. these two actually share so much in common it's actually insane, for one being absolute shits in general. regardless, ‘pan’ means bread and ‘pan-san’ is actually so cute and it rolls off the tongue really well. (i was originally going to say ‘pan-pan’ but a quick google search said no.) 

although riku enjoys teasing you, he still wants you to enjoy the pet name given to you. ‘bread’ is sweet, it is simple, and it is certainly delicious. literally the best nickname anyone could ever have and you should be grateful. but you don’t seem as pleased as he is. you have to process that your boyfriend is naming you after bread. not even like ‘cupcake’ or ‘sugar cookie’ or something else, just. bread. but after riku yaps about it for an hour, adding in compliments and phrases, you give in, and allow yourself to be called bread.

(do let me know if you want to see anything for the other members! i'll try my best 🙏🙏)

#nct dream #nct imagines #nct fic #nct #nct x reader #nct scenarios #nct renjun #nct jaemin #nct chenle #na jaemin #huang renjun #zhong chenle #chenle #renjun #jaemin #nct jaehyun #nct 127 #nct 127 imagines #nct wish imagines #wayv imagines #wayv scenarios #nct dream scenarios #nct wish scenarios #sakuya #riku #nct riku #maeda riku #wayv x reader #nct wish x reader #nct 127 x reader

[withacapitalp]

Toast

Link to ao3 for the stranger things writers guild daily drabble!

“I’m going to skip asking how you got into my house this morning, and go straight to what the fuck happened in here?!” Steve shouted after he finally got the window open, watching the smoke pour out into the open air. 

The kitchen was, in a word, a complete and utter wreck. Egg shells littered the counter tops, batter was dripping from the ceiling, flour was layered on the floor like freshly fallen snow, and two bedraggled teenagers were standing in front of him looking extremely forlorn. 

“We were trying to make you breakfast,” Dustin sighed as Max dragged a path through the flour with the toe of her sneaker, still not looking up at him. 

“Why?!” Steve cried, throwing his hands up, starting to get actually angry. He had woken from a wonderfully peaceful sleep to the smell of smoke and the fire alarm blaring in his ears, and he still had no clue what was going on. All he knew was they were in big, big, trouble. 

The kids knew they were semi-permanently banned from being in the kitchen. They knew that. Especially if he wasn’t around to stop them from their ‘experiments’ with food! Steve didn’t put his foot down about a lot of things, but this was the one thing that the entire Party actually listened to him on. 

So now they had not only broken in, but broken in to go against probably the only rule he had for them. He wasn’t usually a hardass, but this might merit a phone call to both of their mothers. 

“Why?” Steve repeated, his teeth gritted against the yell that was threatening to come bursting out of his throat. 

“Because it’s Father’s Day, jackass,” Max snapped, finally turning her glare upward, as if challenging Steve to say anything. 

The anger instantly vanished. Steve’s mouth shut like a trap, and his eyes opened comically wide. 

He had forgotten. There wasn’t really any point in remembering. Vaguely he knew that was why Robin and Eddie wouldn’t be able to hang out today, and that was the reason that everyone else would also be busy, but now he was hit full force by the fact that he wasn’t the only one without a dad today. 

Or, apparently he was, because according to Dustin and Max, he was the one they were going to celebrate today with. 

And that wasn’t terrifying at all. Nope. Steve wasn’t freaked out by that whatsoever. 

It wasn’t like he didn’t know that the kids saw him as someone to look up to. But there was knowing that, and there was having the two without father figures break into his house just to try and make him something to show that they cared about him. 

And Steve had spent the better part of the last ten minutes lecturing them. 

“Well, the toast survived,” He said slowly, walking around Dustin and Max and over to the kitchen table where two pieces of sad burnt toast were sitting on a blue china plate. 

“Barely,” Dustin grumbled, turning and leaning into Steve’s side. Max hooked her chin over Steve’s shoulder to join them in staring at the slightly depressing toast. 

“Don’t be mean to my toast. It was made with love,” Steve defended, grabbing the plate and holding it high above their heads as both kids groaned and reached up to take it away, complaining about how gross he was being. 

“Let’s take this inside and watch some tv. Then we can clean this up, and I’ll show you guys how to properly make breakfast,” Steve declared, already going towards the living room, “You know, for next Father’s Day. ” 

#steve harrington #stranger things #st #dustin henderson #max mayfield #maxine mayfield #stwgdailyprompt #I don't make the rules #Steve is their 'bother' figure #because he's always bothering them so much

[random0lover]

Her Past Is Their Torture

Pairing: Simon "Ghost" Riley x GN!reader

Word Count: 1.3k

Warnings: Angst/No Comfort (yet), SFW, talk of death, readers fake funeral is mentioned, fake identity is mentioned, healing wound referenced, A gun is mentioned one time, words "terrorist group" is used once, nothing to serious!

Things to know: reader themself is never referenced looks wise so this is POC friendly! Also if you decide to follow me after reading, READ MY PINNED POST, thank you ♡

Notes: I wrote this in 3 hours after not writing anything for a while, so I hope this is okay! This somehow is getting turned into a mini-series, but I cannot make any promises on how fast each part will come out, but it will be a happy ending!! Kind of proof read but not really so sorry for any errors <3

Part 1 Part 2 (You’re here!)

You were not supposed to be alive. Your heart had stopped while you were lying in the arms of the man you loved but somehow you were alive sneaking your way through the base that you used to call home. 

Today was the day of your funeral, a month after the incident, you knew it would be your only chance to make it onto base to grab a few of your main keepsakes from your room, and no matter how bad of an idea it was, you wanted to stop in Simon’s room one last time. 

Laswell didn't know you were here as far as she knew you were on your way to pick up everything to complete your temporary new identity. A 24-year-old from the States wanting to get some traveling in after completing nursing school before going back home to start their job as an ER nurse. Enough information to satisfy anyone that wanted to have a chat but nothing that would be too memorable. 

Kate was the first person you saw after you woke up in a room that was decorated with floral designs that reminded you of the worn couch that sat in your grandmother's living room until the day she passed away. She told you that your getting shot that night wasn’t a coincidence and that the same people you've spent the last few years running from were once again coming after you.

 Before you became part of Task Force 141 you had previously been part of a different unit, one that now has no evidence of existing after a mission that went haywire. You had all been tasked to eradicate a terrorist group that had supposedly made threats to multiple governments not knowing that you were not the first unit being sent in, that it was a death wish going after them. You and your captain had been the only ones to survive at first until four months later you woke in the middle of the night to a frantic phone call from him saying that they were going to come for you next, the sound of a shotgun being cocked, then the line went dead. Not ten minutes later you had packed a bag and were getting ready to go out the backdoor when you heard your front door being kicked in, if it hadn't been for your captain making that call you would've been dead too.

From that day you spent two years running, going everywhere from China to The United States, to Poland, to Japan, anywhere you could hide until Kate had you staying in the UK which is when she introduced you to Captain John Price and you officially became part of task force 141. Price was the only one that knew your full story until you told Simon but you never got the chance to tell him that you might have to keep running one day. That the people that were after you would only show up to try and kill you to then disappear without a trace until they decided to come after you again.

You had become too comfortable, too hopeful that they were not going to come after you again, that maybe it was all over but the healing bullet wound in your side states otherwise.

You shake your head to get out of your thoughts and continue to make your way through the base while keeping your head down.

~~**~~

This morning you had watched to make sure all of the task force members had left so that you didn't risk running into any of them. You had already been to your room making sure to grab the necklace Soap and Gaz had gifted you on your birthday last year, the little notebook Soap would doodle in when he would sit in your room with you, the t-shirt you had stolen from Simon’s closet, and a coffee mug that Price had jokingly given you that said “dad’s favorite”. 

You knew it was all pointless stuff but the little things had always meant the most to you especially when it was things that people that were as close to family as you'll get had given you.

Walking through the men's barracks would not be a good idea usually but today they were mostly barren for obvious reasons. You quickly made it to Simon’s room having to resist stopping in Gaz’s room and staying focused. Oddly enough the door was unlocked but you didn’t think much of it, mainly just thanking the stars that you got lucky enough that he forgot.

You make your way into the room gently shutting the door behind you and move until you're standing beside his bed closing your eyes for a moment taking a deep breath, taking in the smell of pine and cedar mixed with notes of vanilla and a small hint of smoke. 

You open your eyes and finally let your eyes drift across the room. The room itself is completely clean not a thing out of place almost as if it hadn't been touched since the morning before that last mission what catches your attention though is the small desk in the corner that is currently the dirtiest you've ever seen it, covered in a few stacks of paperwork, mugs that have dried-out tea bags in them, and not so shockingly your file. It was sitting on top of everything else but you could tell from the creases and a few dirt stains in the manilla folder that it had been opened multiple times and maybe even thrown or dropped a few times. 

You feel in your pocket for the folded note that you had written the night before and pull it out. You stare at it for a moment before opening the folder and sliding it in between some papers at the bottom of the stack hoping that he’ll find it. As soon as you close the folder you hear some voices coming down the hallway and make your way towards his closed closet waiting to see if you’ll need to hide. You hear the voice fade and let out the breath you were holding until you see the door handle turning and frantically throw yourself into the closet hiding behind his clothes and trying to shut the door.

Simon comes into your view for a moment and you see him looking around the room, you hear him let out a sigh before taking a deep breath and you see his body go rigid, you freeze hoping he didn’t hear you, and hear him sniff again almost as if he smells something weird. He turns towards the closet and you can see his eyes settle on the door, you want to slap yourself for not making sure to close it all the way and suck in a breath as he takes a step forward reaching out to open the door but before he can you hear his door open again.

“You got that file you were looking for Lt.?” Soap asks from the doorway.

Simon looks at the closet door one more time before turning to the desk and grabbing the file, “Yeah Johnny, let’s go.” 

You wait in the closet for another five minutes before you decide that it’s safe to venture out and quickly make your exit, locking the door behind you before you sneak off base. 

As soon as you reach your car the burner phone that was in the center console starts ringing the screen saying ‘GREEN’ in big bold letters meaning that it’s Kate. You pull out the phone and answer it while starting the car. “Where are you? You were supposed to be here twenty minutes ago.”

 “I'm almost there Kate, I’ll be there soon. Promise.” You sigh before hanging up.

Hi my lovelies, I hope you enjoyed the second part to Open Wounds and War Paint! Feedback is appreciated but not necessary. As always I hope you have a great day/night. &lt;3

As of right now I have a few requests, but requests are open! I cannot promise when or if I will write them, but I do prefer requests that are slightly more specific as I find them easier to write but it's not required. Thanks for reading my darlings! ♡

#random0lover my writing #angst/ no comfort #(yet) #cod angst #cod mw2 #simon ghost riley #call of duty #mw2 #simon ghost riley x reader #simon riley x reader #ghost x reader #simon riley #reader x cod #cod x reader #cod x gn!reader #ghost x gn!reader #simon Riley x gn!reader #gn!reader #cod #cod fanfic #ghost fanfic #simon riley fanfic #simon riley cod #cod simon riley

[the-little-ewok]

Collateral Damage

Poe Dameron x G!N reader

Rating : M

Wordcount : 6800 (ish)

Warnings : Friends to lovers, sort of slow burn I suppose, angst, fluff, reader has a fear of flying, arguing, vague illusions to Poe's torture by the FO, vague mention of parental death (Poe's mom), mentions of panic attacks.

Summary : Poe finds out you are scared to fly, and makes it a personal challenge to fix that. Only spending so much time together, causes some complications.

A/N : there's a few bits here that mention Poe's past as a child which is from Freefall however there are no direct Freefall spoilers contained, and it isn't necessary to have read it to enjoy this.

To the anon that requested an angst to fluff Poe fic...I hope you enjoy!

~

"Poe, please don't look at me like that!" You beg.

"Like what?" Poe gives you a genuinely confused look, as though he hasn't been staring at you for the past ten minutes like you're a particularly complex puzzle he needs to work out.

"Like there's something wrong with me," you sigh, twisting the mug of tea nervously in your hands.

"I never said that! But seriously? You're scared? Of flying? This is a joke right?"

"I just think if we were made to fly we'd have wings is all." You shrug, trying to be nonchalant as you sip your drink, your fingers pressing hard into the china as you try to ignore his shock. You don't look up but you can feel his eyes burning into you.

"How did I not know this? How have you hidden it from me of all people! I'm equally impressed and offended." You suspect by his tone he's more offended than impressed, but it was never truly your intention to hide it from him. The secret just sort of… happened.

When you were children you barely knew Poe, not until after he returned to Yavin, his eyes a little darker than they had been before, his steps a little more calculated, though no less bold. When you started helping Kes out around the little farm he bought, you had gotten to know Poe a lot better. Barely tolerating him at first, before you fell into an close friendship. It had been easy enough to deny his requests to go flying with him in the early days, especially given the amount of trouble he got into.

Then when you were older Poe seemed to flit in and out of your life. Between the academy, the navy, and now the resistance, sometimes it seemed like he was never around.

But he always reappeared eventually. He came back to Yavin sometimes for days, sometimes for weeks. He used your back garden like his personal shipping yard, but you never had the heart to tell him off about it, despite the fact you had smashed more than your fair share of crockery in shock at the sudden noise of a roaring engine coming down on your house.

Everytime he asked if you wanted to go flying you found some excuse not to, sometimes elaborate ones you aren't even sure Poe believed. You assume perhaps he thought you were avoiding spending time alone with him, which was in part true some of the time.

You could have told him the truth, but the way he lit up when he talked about flying — the freedom of it, the adventure of it — had always made the words dry in your mouth. He couldn't possibly understand, and you knew he would react, well, exactly as he had.

"I didn't! You never asked, and it never came up in conversation. It shouldn't have tonight. It's irrelevant. I don't need to fly," you shrug stubbornly, wanting to get away from the topic if only to stop the quizzical gaze he's fixed you with since it came up.

"But-but there's a whole galaxy you're missing out on!" He splutters, still wide eyed with shock. "You can't tell me you want to spend the rest of your life on Yavin."

"I like Yavin!"

Poe gives a huff of disbelief at you, folding his arms.

"Liar."

"You know Poe, not all of us have the need to fly out into the night and get blown to pieces like you," you sigh, rubbing a hand over your eyes, frustrated at his reaction. "Anyways it's late. I should go."

Getting up you put your mug in the sink and grab your jacket, intent on leaving and finding some way to avoid this topic for the next however many years, probably forever.

"Hey, hey, don't go. I'm sorry, okay?" Poe begs getting up and taking a gentle grip of your arm to prevent you moving. You ignore the fire that ignites your skin where his fingers are wrapped loosely around your arm.

"Tell me what scares you? About flying I mean? Let me try and understand," he pleads.

Taking a breath you sigh. How could you explain it to someone who spent their whole life up there? How could you explain it to someone who lived and breathed the freedom of the flight?

"Pilots die, all the time. Things go wrong, fights, pirates, technical failures…" you trail off with a wave of your hand, freeing your arm from his gentle grip, not used to his touch. "I just…can't stand the thought of dying alone out there in the cold. It's hard enough worrying about that happening to you."

"You sound like my dad," Poe sighs quietly. "He didn't want me flying either. Not after my mom."

Reaching back out you squeeze his hand briefly, knowing that while the relationship between Poe and Kes had somewhat mended over the years, some cracks ran too deep to ever be fully healed.

"You know, Kes never shuts up about you flying. Always talking about what a good pilot you are and how your mom would be so proud of you, how you fly just like her. I swear it's all I heard for weeks the last time you were here."

Poe falls quiet for a long moment, deep in thought, a frown etched deep into his brow.

"He's proud of you, Poe. I know he struggles to say it sometimes, but he is," you offer gently.

Poe waves a hand nonchalantly, as though it doesn't bother him, but you know it does.

"Well you know my dad likes to keep things to himself, but apparently not from you," he eyes you somewhat suspiciously. "He likes you, you know. He told me once I should marry you. Imagine that, us, married."

He lets out a snort of a laugh as he shakes his head at the thought. You want to make a joke about it, you want to laugh it off and tell him you'd never agree to it even if he asked, but the spark of feelings you've so carefully navigated all these years flared to life suddenly and in full force at his words.

There's always been something between you, something a little more than friendship, something you both know can't be. Something both of you have avoided talking about for a long time now.

Perhaps when you were younger maybe you could have figured something out, but Poe was hardly ever around and now, well now your worlds were too far apart. Yours here on the ground, his far off in the stars. It was better not to prod too hard at open wounds, but Poe's laughter at the thought of you together, still cuts deeply.

Something must flicker across your expression because his amusement dies and Poe gives you a half smile.

"It's just, you know, you're seeing someone. Aren't you?"

"It didn't work out." You shrug as though you don't care. The truth was it never worked out, because you would always be in love with someone else. How were you supposed to give your heart away when at any given moment the one that makes it beat could drop from the sky without warning?

"Oh," he sounds genuinely sad which only drives the knife further in. You drop your eyes from his, pulling at a loose thread on your jacket as he continues. "I'm sorry. You'll meet someone else though! Although maybe…. Off this planet?"

You sigh and roll your eyes. Really you shouldn't be surprised that he found a way to spin the topic right back to your issues with flying, which you suppose was better than your love life so at least there was that.

"Oh come on. You can't be scared if you haven't tried it! Lemmie take you!" Poe sounds like an excited child on life day. Clearly the thought of conquering your fear appealed to him.

"Absolutely not! I've seen the way you fly!"

"Did you not just say even my dad thinks I'm good at flying? And besides," he leans on the counter, a shit eating grin plastering his face, "didn't you hear I'm the best pilot in the resistance?"

You roll your eyes at his cocky statement.

"Poe, I've heard a great deal of things about you over the years, not all of them I can believe and most of them I've had to defend your good name against!"

He raises an eyebrow and tilts his head like a curious loth cat.

"Like what?"

You quickly go through the ment rollerdex of things you've heard, deciding to pick out your favourite.

"Like… the time you apparently almost married a Hutt."

Poe opens his mouth and then closes it again, suddenly becoming very interested in a tin of tea on the side. He picks it up, rolling it between his palms, purposely not looking at you.

"Well, really that wasn't even my fault," he mumbles eventually, realising you aren't going to fill the expectant silence.

He can't seriously have done that? The ridiculous story can't possibly be the truth?

"You have to be kidding me! I got into the biggest argument that you wouldn't be so stupid to get into something with them. Do I even want to know the real story?"

You had vehemently defended your friend, arguing well into the night that while yes, Poe was reckless, and yes sometimes he spoke without thinking, and yes sometimes trouble found him, you were still absolutely sure the story was completely untrue. You suppose you have a few apologies to make now.

"It's not like I intended to agree to the marriage! It just sort of… happened."

You stare at him, open mouthed waiting for the rest of the story, knowing he won't be able to resist defending himself. But instead of launching into a lengthy explanation he grins, setting the tea down slowly and fixing you with an expression you are all too familiar with. The one he uses when he knows he's about to get something he wants.

"Trade. I'll fly you somewhere. Then I'll tell you."

And there it was. He knew you wanted to know the truth, unable to resist a good story about the far off places he visited and troubles he got into. You should have predicted the bastard would use that against you.

You fold your arms.

"No."

"I'll just fly you to the other side of Yavin? Short trip, in and out."

"No!"

Poe sighs dramatically, pushing himself up off the counter.

"Fine. You drive a hard bargain. I'll tell you the whole story if you let me show you around my ship and tell you how unscary it is to fly. Strictly no piloting."

"Please agree so you can both shut up. It's after midnight, and the noise you two make will bring the first order down on our heads without them even looking!" Kes Dameron booms from the hallway, making both of you jump.

"Sorry dad!" Poe yells while he gives you a grin of victory.

"Sorry Kes! I'm leaving now." With a sigh of resignation you slip on your jacket. "Fine. No flying."

"No flying," Poe agrees with a nod, holding out his hand and wriggling his fingers invitingly. You hesitate to take it, but he slides his hand into yours anyway, squeezing your fingers. "I'll walk you home."

You try not to think about how right it feels to have your hand in his.

~

"Poe, Poe," you repeat a little louder as he continues rambling away, pointing to the different parts of his X-Wing, a misty look in his eyes. You're sure you lost him a good while ago, and he hasn't stopped talking long enough for you to explain you have no idea what he's talking about.

"You have to put your hand up to ask a question when I'm teaching," he chides you teasingly. Rolling your eyes you put your hand up, glaring at him when he grins silently at you for a long drawn out moment. Just as your patience breaks, opening your mouth to ask anyway, he cuts in first.

"You have a question?"

"Several," you respond dryly. "Firstly, can you please slow down? I've no idea what you've been talking about for the last twenty minutes. Secondly, I'm pretty sure you've told me about everything that can go wrong and now I want to be near this thing even less. Thirdly -"

"This thing? This thing?" He interupts, his eyes going wide with shock. "This thing is a T-70 X-wing. I've done a lot of work on this thing!"

"I apologise I insulted your ship," you laugh, watching his brows pull together in an annoyed frown. Maker, Flyboys! As cute as he was you couldn't really expect any other reaction.

"Don't apologise to me. Apologise to her!" He points at his ship before he folds his arms stubbornly, as though he's actually serious. You pause for a moment, realising he is serious.

"Thirdly, I don't think this is helping and I'm sure you have better things to be doing," You continue, ignoring his sulk. Poe drops his arms, his expression softening.

"It is helping," he insists. "If you know what can go wrong then you know how to fix it, or how to account for it at the least. Then that part isn't so scary anymore. I promise."

"It doesn't feel like it's helping," you mumble, wrapping your arms around your chest, the low hum of anxiety vibrating under your ribs. "I'm sorry. I'm not being ungrateful. It's very nice of you to do this."

"You don't think I can do it," he grins and you roll your eyes at him for what feels like the thousandth time since he's been back.

"I'm not a challenge," you remind him with a glare.

"You kinda are though," he grins. Trust Poe to see this as some sort of game he can win. "Come on. You can trust me. I know about these things. How'd you think I survived this long?"

"Sheer dumb luck?"

Poe laughs, a deep elated noise that brings a smile to your lips and makes your heart ache with affection. It seems so rare these days that he truly laughs like that, and when he does, here with you, it only makes his inevitable absence harder to swallow.

"Probably a bit of that too," he admits with a shrug. "Okay, new plan."

He plonks himself down on the ground, patting the space in front of him for you. When you're settled opposite him he takes both your hands in his. When you try to pull away, the touch giving a jolt in your chest, he grips your fingers tighter, forcing you to stay with him. It's an all too familiar dance now. You push him away, and he only proceeds to try and hold you closer. When he's here you wish he wouldn't, but when he's gone, you ache for his easy familiarity.

He gives you a genuine open look, and your heart aches a little that he's truly trying to help when you feel so beyond helping.

"What do you think about when you get scared? When you think about being up there. What is it that worries you so much?"

"I guess dying alone?" You suppress a shudder at the thought of floating out there in the darkness, no one to hear you scream for help.

The pilot doesn't even miss a beat before he answers quickly.

"Okay, I'd be with you so that's not a problem. We would die together."

You glare at him, unamused. Ignoring your vehement stare he gestures for you to continue.

"Fine. Being shot out of the sky. Lot of time to think about dying while you're plummeting to the ground."

He gives you a grin, "We both know that's not an issue because I'm a great pilot, so no matter where we are I promise you I'll land safely, all parts intact, especially all the bits I like," he winks and you desperately try to ignore the flare of heat on your skin. "I've done it so many times I could do it in my sleep! Next problem."

"Kidnapped by pirates." You shoot quickly.

"They'll give you back after half an hour." Poe snorts with laughter when you reach out and slap his arm hard.

"Asshole," you grumble, fighting back a smile.

He grins at you, clearly enjoying himself at your expense and while you should mind his teasing, you find it hard to care, not when his eyes are lit up with genuine joy.

"You are really not helping," you laugh eventually, shaking your head. "I'm a lost cause."

"Not entirely, just mostly. I mean none of these are good reasons to be scared," Poe smiles and you have to admit it chafes you a little that he still doesn't seem to understand.

"I never said my fear was rational."

"It's not entirely irrational either," Poe acknowledges with a shrug, finally allowing you to pull your hands out of his while he taps his chin in thought. You curl your fingers into your palms, willing away the memory of his touch.

"What you need is a distraction!" Poe proclaims brightly. For a shocked moment you think he's talking about a distraction from him, which is entirely exactly what you need. But he keeps talking and you realise it's nothing like that, although he inadvertently makes you distracted anyway, from flying at least.

"Yeah, something to take your mind off getting up there."

You shake your head, knowing it won't work. Suddenly this whole thing seems like a bad idea. Poe wasn't one to give up, and yet over the years you've tried just about everything to get over your fear. A weariness starts to creep in, encouraging you to make your excuses and leave.

"I doubt anything would distract me that much. Anyway, I think we should do something else. Flying isn't that important." You try, knowing it's hopeless now you've encouraged him this much.

"What if I flew naked?" He grins, wiggling his eyebrows. His constant blatant flirting is starting to take a toll, and you can't muster even a smile this time. He knows, yet he does it anyway. It's infuriating sometimes, purposely poking and prodding when you're just trying to get by without spilling your heart all over the grass.

"Coming from the person who laughed at the notion of us being married, I don't see how you think I'd care about that." You don't quite mean to bite it out the way you do, but Poe ignores your attitude and leans back on his arms, gazing at you.

"Yeah, because we'd argue all day long about everything. I'd be messy, and you'd want a tidy house, we would fight over what to have for dinner, because you won't believe I'm the better cook, I'd want to paint the walls blue, but you'd want green. You'd want to live here and I wouldn't." He waves his hand, indicating that there would be a longer list of issues if he continued. "The thought of us being married is funny because it would be chaotic, not because I don't love you."

The words hit you like a shot, and judging by the look of fear on the pilot's face he probably hadn't thought them through before they left his mouth.

"Guess the cats out of the bag now. Well, suppose it was never really fully in the bag anyway," he mumbles, running a hand through his messy curls, before he stares up at the sky. "I mean, I know we've never….I know we've never gone down that road, but you know I've always had a soft spot for you."

You knew. Of course you knew. You both held an affection for each other, but you also know it wasn't meant to be. Maker knows you've spent your life trying to get over him, and Poe… well he never breathed a word about his feelings in the matter. You assumed he had moved on some time ago. If his list of conquests was anywhere half true, he moved on quite well.

You avoid his gaze, looking down at the dirt. "Love is a lot different than a soft spot. Seems funny you never mentioned that before."

Poe swallows, sitting back up properly and reaching to take your hands, you snatch them back before he has a chance, a swell of anger starting in your chest. There is no need for him to tell you this. You don't want him to tell you this. It won't make any difference to say it out loud.

"I knew I couldn't stay so what was the point? You've said yourself how much you love Yavin. Who was I to ask you to give it all up? You deserve someone who could be there for you, where you wanted to be. You still deserve someone like that."

"So why bring it up when you know it isn't you?" You snap angrily, getting to your feet, panic pulsing through your veins. While you've had this conversation a hundred times in your head, in reality you have no idea how to react. Suddenly the open wound becomes a sinkhole, and every wall you've placed around your feelings starts to crumble in. Your chest constricts with panic. He can't do this now. Not after all this time. You won't be able to rebuild what he's torn down. This will burn your friendship to the ground.

"Because I'm selfish," the pilot admits, jumping up and following you as you storm across the garden towards the house, the flaring pain in your chest getting worse with each word that leaves his mouth. You won't talk about this. You can't talk about this.

"Yes, you are! You blaze in and out of my life and everytime I think I might have a chance to mend myself, you come tearing down from the sky. Maybe it is about time to actually have this conversation so we can both move on!" You spin on your heel to face him, stepping back when he reaches for you again.

If he touches you now you won't ever be able to let him go, he'll find a way to calm you down and you don't want to be calm. You want to be angry. You want to yell, scream, and let out every feeling you've kept locked inside. You want him to feel even a small spark of what he's done to you for years. You need to be angry.

"Why can't we just be together now?" He interrupts your rant.

"What's the point, Poe? You know I won't leave, I can't leave. And you can't stay. It won't work and we both know it."

"We don't know that because we haven't tried!" He implores passionately. "You can come with me! The resistance would be lucky to have you. If you just try! If you just let me show you. I promise it's not so scary, and then we can go anywhere we like!"

"I can't do it, Poe. I just can't and there's no point trying to make you of all people understand that."

You turn to leave but this time he's quicker than you, reaching out and catching hold of your wrist.

"So this is how it ends is it? We dance around this for years and then we just do what? Give up?" The pain lacing his voice is enough to make your lip tremble as you bite back the tears.

"You're right. We've danced around this for years because we both know it isn't going to work! Why now? Why after all this time decide to drag all this up now?"

"Because we are in the middle of a war. Because I don't know what's going to happen to me tomorrow, or the next day, or the next. Because I might not be here to tell you this, and for some reason it kills me that I might be gone and you would never know that I loved you. I've waited years for you to find someone who makes you happy, someone who gives you everything I can't, but everytime I come here I know it hurts you because it hasn't happened. And I need you to know that someone, that I, love you. I don't think I can just walk away this time." He sounds resigned and it crumbles away every last brick you had to protect yourself. Poe doesn't think he's going to survive this war. In the end, he knows he's going to leave you anyway.

It makes you angry to hear him talk that way. Poe was the upbeat one. Poe was the one who always figured a way out. He doesn’t just accept the inevitable. And you don't need him concerned about you either.

"Well you should just walk away, because I don't need your pity!" You yell, feeling the hot tears escaping your eyes.

"That's not what it is!" Poe takes a breath, clearly trying to calm himself and de-escalate the situation. "I'm just trying to be honest with you for once. I can't just leave and say nothing this time."

"You mean like you have every time you disappear into the sky for months on end?" You laugh bitterly.

The pilot swallows, his eyes searching yours, pleadingly, begging you to understand why now, but the anger still swells in your chest.

"I've always come back to you. Every time I can. For Makers sake do you think I'd be here so often if you weren't?"

When you say nothing Poe frowns, reading your expression all too clearly.

"You won't even consider coming with me? You won't even try?"

You wrap your arms around your waist, holding yourself together as you shake your head.

"I can't. We can't and you know it. I…can't leave. I can't leave," you repeat in a whisper, shaking your head, the tears flowing fast down your cheeks.

"I know, I know. I'm sorry," Poe apologies softly, reaching out to take your arms, drawing you close to him. You try to fight it, pulling your body away, but Poe ignores you, holding you tight against him until you stop fighting, allowing him to hug you tightly.

"I know you can't leave," he admits, letting you go to cup your cheek, his palm warm against your cooled skin, his thumb sweeping away tears. "You don't have to, okay? Just say the word. Say the word and I'll be here, with you. I'll stay right here so we can try. Tell me that's what you want. Tell me you feel the same and I'll do it."

You know what he's offering, and you know he can't fulfil it. He's speaking without thinking it through, in desperation, trying to fix things, to fix the damage his words have done.

You wish you could accept it, but the thought of Poe grounded, here, a place he fought so hard to escape, causes an ache in your chest. You know it can't be that way.

Maybe he would give it all up for you, but it would never be enough. Not for him. Eventually the cracks would form, and he'd be gone, and leave you so much more broken than you already were.

"Tell me you feel the same," he whispers, leaning into you.

"Don't do this," you beg softly, bring your hands up to rest on his arms to push him away. You can't seem to make your body follow through with the action.

"Then stop me," Poe challenges, his hand sliding around the back of your neck. He's so close you can feel his breath against your lips, the warmth of his body against yours.

Maker, he was going to break your heart. He won't stay, he can't stay. You won't make him do that, not for you. But you're sick of fighting it, sick of trying to pretend. He's here, with you, wanting you. Just this once, once can't hurt.

The screeching beep of his comms stops you both, the sudden insistent noise cutting through the tension and your own clouded thoughts, making you step away from him quickly. Poe lets you go, his expression pained, though he doesn't move to answer the incoming call.

Swallowing hard you gesture to his pocket, refusing to meet his gaze, fearful of what you might find there.

"You should get that."

"Yeah," he nods distractedly, taking a breath and fishing the comm out. He holds it in his hands, glaring at it before his gaze flickers back to you. "Can we talk later?"

You hesitate initially but then nod. Later gave you time to think, to process everything, to try to explain to him why this can't be. Maybe you can salvage your friendship after some time apart.

A tiny voice in your head whispers the vicious truth. It was too late for that.

It's less than an hour before he leaves again, back on urgent business for the resistance. You hadn't opened the door when he came to say goodbye. You hadn't answered when he asked if you wanted him to stay, and you hadn't the strength to smile and see him off this time. He left you with the memory of his muffled voice, promising he will come back, promising he'll figure out a way to make this work, begging you to think, to try.

For once you're grateful he's gone. At least he isn't around to see the damage.

~

The tea Kes Dameron had pressed into your hands has long since gone cold as you stare out at the grass, little shoots growing where previously a star fighter engine had burnt them away, one that so far hadn't returned, and perhaps never would.

There's a sigh behind you, a creak of the porch steps as Kes sits down next to you. The older man had come to help you fix the flickering light in the kitchen, something you'd have once asked Poe how to fix, allowing him to instruct you via comlink, teasing and laughing at your questions and frustrations. But you hadn't spoken to Poe, not in months now, too ashamed and regretful of your behaviour, and too fearful of what speaking with him may bring up.

"He was asking about you again earlier. You can't keep avoiding his comms."

You can feel Kes's eyes on you but you refuse to look up from the dent in the grass. You don't need to ask who he means.

"I'm not. Poe calls at bad times."

Kes makes a disbelieving noise, taking the now cold mug out of your hands and setting it down to the side, making you finally look up.

"It's been a bad time for the past two months. What happened between you?" He frowns at you.

"Nothing." It was the truth. In the end nothing had happened, not really. But the almost of it, the almost hurt worse.

You don't want to talk about Poe. You don't want to think about it. But the next question slips out without you being able to stop it.

"How is he?"

Kes lets out a long breath.

"You know Poe, all smiles and reassurances but he hasn't been the same. Not since…" Kes trails off and your stomach gives a now familiar lurch at the memory of Kes turning up at your door, pale and scared, stuttering out that the First Order had captured his son. As far as you know Poe never told Kes what happened in those days he was gone, but if the stories you heard were even half true, you're surprised he made it out alive.

"He needs someone there," Kes continues eventually.

"He has his squadron." You ignore what Kes is implying. It's a conversation you've had a hundred times over now. It makes your chest ache in a now all too familiar way.

"He needs you, and for all your denial you need him. You can't spend your whole life moping around here. I can make the arrangements to get you there. You just have to say the word."

You had tried in the weeks following his departure to do as he asked, to fly. You had walked to the shipping yard every day, listened to the roar of the engines, talked to the pilots, tried with every fibre to set foot on a ship, any ship, but you couldn't do it.

You had come to accept that you were right to distance yourself. There was no way for you to be together.

"Kes, I can't do that. I… me and Poe… we just aren't… our lives don't fit together." The shame burns in your chest that you couldn't be there for him when he needed someone the most, after his escape from the First Order.

Kes scoffs in an all too familiar way. You wonder if Poe knows where he got that reaction from, if he knows how much like his father he can be.

"Don't fit together? You kids," Kes rolls his eyes. "Nothing in this life is ever easy. If you want something enough you'll find a way through it. Poe's mother," he hesitates, the words catching in his throat. It's rare for Kes to mention Shara, but when he does, it always seems it causes him physical pain. The older man swallows hard before he continues, looking up at the sky.

"She was a free spirit like Poe. But she loved with her whole heart, and so does he. He'd give up the world for you. Don't let your fear hold you back. Don't make the same mistake with him that I did. If you do, you may lose him forever."

Kes was right in a way, your fear was holding you back, it always had. You'd always known Poe's heart was in the stars, and your fear would never let you leave the ground. But Poe had offered to give his world up for you — his stars, his resistance, his freedom. Even if he couldn't stick to it, he was willing to try.

Maybe you could try again. For him.

~

Poe is still in his flight suit, his hair damp and messy, helmet clutched in one hand, talking animatedly with another pilot who you vaguely recognise, who apparently knows you straight away. The pilot nudges Poe — who continues to chatter away obviously— before forcefully spinning him around to point at you.

You can tell you are probably the very last person he's expecting. His eyes go wide and he blinks a few times, as though he's imagining you here. He opens and closes his mouth but whatever words he wanted to get out, don't seem to come, or at least you can't hear them across the yard.

You hadn't told him you were coming. In fact, you still hadn't answered a single one of his comms. It's not that you hadn't wanted to talk to him, but more that you hadn't wanted to disappoint him if, in the end, you couldn't go through with it. Getting here had taken weeks, the trip was rearranged three times after you found yourself unable to get on the ship, and in the end Kes had dragged you in himself and tied you into your seat, reasoning that you needed a push. He was probably right, but you would still be having words when you saw him again.

Raising a hand to Poe you give him a small wave, glad that you landed a good few hours before he returned from whatever mission run he was on this time. It had given you time to clean up and compose yourself, for the shaking to finally stop.

You hesitate in the landing bay, unsure if you should go over or stay put. Poe decides for you because the moment you move a foot forward, he runs to you, skidding to a stop almost toe to toe with you.

"Here-you-h-how?" He stutters out looking you over, as though you might have been kidnapped and dragged here against your will. "Is everything okay? What's happened? My dad-"

"Is fine," you cut him off, recognising his rising panic. "Everything's okay at home. I just thought it was about time I came to see you for once." You give him a nonchalant wave of your hand and a shrug, although your stomach feels full of stones as you take in the new scar across his cheek.

"But… you wouldn't even fly with me!" He sputters out, as though that's the most important point.

You give him an apologetic smile.

"Your dad made me realise I needed to be here," you confess, "We heard about what happened. Your dad was worried about you and how…" you were coping after being tortured.

You don't finish the sentence, swallowing hard.

"I was worried about you." You drop your eyes, instead gazing down at his scuffed boots, still feeling ashamed you hadn't been here sooner.

The pilot sighs, "I'd have come to you if you'd just answered my calls. I just thought you didn't want to see me, and then things here got… a bit crazy."

"I know, but the way we left things. I didn't know…I couldn't…I'm sorry. I tried to come, I really did. I couldn't and… I couldn't tell you…I panicked and everything that happened, and what we said, and what I did, and I wanted to be here for you when you were… but I couldn't. I tried but i couldn't do it, and then -"

"Stop, stop, stop," Poe shushes you, pulling you into his arms and holding you against him tightly, while you try to ramble out an explanation, an apology, and confession all in one, the words tumbling together, desperate to escape.

"Shhh stop," he repeats softly, squeezing you against his chest.

It's more than just a friendly hug, it's more than just a greeting. He holds you tighter than he ever has, one hand curled into the back of your shirt while the other grips his helmet, his face buried in your neck, as though he could hide from the world. Your heart aches for him and everything he's been through as you hold him.

You wait for him to ask you questions, to call you out on how you acted, even to tease you for the whole situation.

Instead, "I'm so proud of you," is all he says.

You bite your lip hard to hold back a flow of tears, gripping his flight suit as he squeezes you breathless.

"I can't believe I wasn't your first," he huffs suddenly against your skin.

"What?" You squeak, heat flushing over your skin at the sudden change in conversation.

"Pilot! I wanted to take you on your first flight," He sighs, pulling away to pout at you in the most adorable of ways. It makes you want to laugh at the look of actual disappointment on his face. You hadn't realised it had meant so much to him, then you remember that he had seen you as a challenge and can't help but wonder if it's purely that someone else won, where he lost. You can tease him about it later and find out.

For now you'll sooth his jealousy just a little.

"Does it help if I tell you your dad had to basically restrain me. I cried, had I don't know how many panic attacks, shut my eyes the whole way, and I absolutely never want to do it again?"

Poe considers this for a minute before he grins, "Kinda does… but not the crying or panic bit. Or the fact you don't want to do it again" he clarifies quickly, before you have a chance to tease him about enjoying your misery. "We can work on changing that last part. And I'm still sad you didn't trust me to take you first."

"Well maybe if you didn't fly that barely legal piece of junk X-Wing I'd have-"

He suddenly leans forward and presses his lips to yours, cutting off any further insults you could throw at his ship, and while his kiss takes you by surprise, it's not unwelcome, and you immediately find yourself sinking into it.

The kiss tastes of desperation, of impatience, of longing buried for too long.

You let out a soft moan as his tongue licks into your mouth, deepening the kiss. You tangle your fingers in his sweat damp curls in the way you've wanted to for so long.

His helmet thumps noisily to the ground when he drops it to wrap both his arms around you this time, pulling your body hard against his. He slides one hand up your back to the back of your neck, holding your mouth to his as he kisses you passionately.

This time it isn't his comms that interrupt you, but the hollering cheer of his squadron.

You pull apart suddenly, your cheeks hot with embarrassment.

Poe gives you an abashed smile, throwing a rude hand gesture to his still cheering comrades, mumbling a soft apology.

"Sorry, I just decided it might be better to skip the talking part this time, since it didn't really work out so well last time."

You can't help but let out a soft laugh, feeling dizzyingly elated at the lingering feel of his lips on yours.

"No, it did not."

Poe grins, drawing you close once more, "now what were you saying about my beautiful custom X-Wing that you are absolutely going to be flying one day?"

You roll your eyes. Flyboys.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

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[randomshyperson]

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

[max1461]

Tips for any new redditors joining Tumblr today

If you're going to be moving from reddit to tumblr, there are a couple of important things you need to know. This site, has a culture, and it's important to understand it! So here's a few tips for new users:

On reddit, people will often say things like "have an upvote, good sir". Here on tumblr, we shit on the fucking ground.

On reddit, there's no reblogging of content, so you might not know the etiquette. Basically, it's to crank your hog fast and furious style

If you see someone write "prev tags", that means mao zedong, chairman of communist china, is their celebrity crush and they write all these like ten thousand, hundred thousand word stories on ao3 about him romancing and seducing vladimir lenin, and so on

People here will be like "kill this guy kill that guy I love to kill I'm a killer I kill people, I stick figure biting and gnashing angry stick drawing all the time" but they're simply a lesbian in their room. Don't fear them they are timid even at the grocery store.

FUcking shit lol, big cocks and penis

Almost all our power users are members of this or that ideolgoy, we've got all these catholic midwestern chicks who do a lot of drugs and post racist memes, we've got stalinists and also trans girls who want to upload their brain to the computer. When you see a funny post remember its by one of these peopel.

irl I know a guy who eats human flesh for a lving and if you ask me I can get you some if you want to try it

Crank your hog crazy style over here

kill kill kill the president kill the first lady get um kill people on purpose (you, in the audience: kill a man). did you know that covid was created by the little jizz men, little jizz homonculuses that live in our ears? stop masterbating and they will die :(

it is determined that you are a nazi pedophile or not based on which cartoons for example sponge bob or stephen universe you like but I won't tell you which ones. good luck you nazi pedophile *nuggies your head endearingly*

crank your hog maoist style.

the glory of the chinese communist party is what sets the people free! remember that mao is always beside you!!!!

#Youtube

[ghoularaki]

baby's breath | 1

↠  summary: Merely by coincidence, Erwin, your father's former friend had crossed paths with you again after nearly a decade. He offered solace once finding out you were struggling with not just school, but your home life as well. His home he shared with another one of your father's friends, Levi, became a sanctuary. Though, the more you came over for study sessions, the more they wiggled themselves into your private life. And like baby's breath, they weeded themselves in so deep you couldn't uproot them.

↠ word count: 4,719

↠ pairing: levi ackerman x reader x erwin smith

↠ genre/warnings: angst, smut, modern au, DARK CONTENT, yandere, noncon/dubcon, daddy kink, forced infantilism, pet play, age gap, death threats, human trafficking, bdsm

Proudly you could say, you were doing well by yourself. Life hasn't been the kindest to you. By the age of eighteen you had been kicked out of your home over ten times. To say the relationship between your family was rocky would be an understatement. For a couple years now, you hopped from place to place. 

In the current climate, you were having trouble finding an apartment to live in so you either slept in your car or spent your day in the university library. Residing in the dorms simply wasn’t an option as your scholarship wouldn’t cover the nearly ten-thousands of dollars it would be. And you weren’t about to send yourself in further into debt. 

You supposed this was expected of going to such a prestigious college town, but your options were limited. Wracking a hand down your face, you were barely paying attention when a voice called your name.

“Y/n! Is that you?” The voice called from the left of you. 

Looking up from where you were about to open the door to a coffee shop you frequented, just to spot a face you hadn’t seen since you were a preteen. 

“Mr. Smith?” 

With his stature he made quick work to close the distance to you. The man had barely changed even after the decade you last saw him. 

He laughed and waved his hand flippantly, “Please, call me Erwin.”

Slightly uncomfortable, you said, “How are you, Erwin?” You never really did the best with small talk. 

The egregious man easily put a hand over your head to fully open the door. “Come, let’s catch up over coffee.”

Already too late to refuse, you walked closely behind and followed his lead. Erwin picked a spot near the window with two wooden chairs. The coffee shop was quaint with a scheme of different clashing furniture. On lucky days you could snag the cushioned recliner. Painted on the circle table in front of you two was a faded sunflower and tiny, white flowers. As he sat down, the rickety chair groaned from his mass. 

Settling in your seat, Erwin was already looking at you, a whimsical expression on his face. “What do you want, I’ll order for you.”

“You don’t have to do that,” You bent down to grab your bag, but he raised a hand to stop you.

“I insist.”

Leaving you no room to resist, you replied, “I will just have a hot chocolate.” 

A chuckle left him at what you assumed was because of the childish request. You weren’t privy to coffee and the tea here wasn’t the best. He got up to order your drinks and you fiddled with your phone while waiting for him. 

Tapping your phone against your forehead, you questioned how you got yourself in this situation. There was nothing wrong with Erwin, it’s merely because he was friends with your father. You didn’t want to judge him based on your strained relationship, but you barely remembered Erwin beside brief glimaces. He was a suave man who knew how to command a room. Obviously, with how he got you to join him for coffee without even lifting a finger. It might have more to say about you than him.

“Here’s your drink,” Shooting up from your slouched position, Erwin approached with both cups. His was a ceramic mug with swirling black and white designs. It suited him. Yours was a dainty, pink and ivory china tea cup. Even as the years passed, he saw you as a little girl. 

Going back to his seat, he took a sip of his coffee. “I must say, you have grown. A lot. I almost didn’t recognize you. You really have grown into a beautiful woman.”

Coughing, your face heated up enough to cook an egg on it. “I- uh thanks. You don’t look any different.”

He really didn’t, despite him being in his forties, he surely didn’t look it. Crow’s feet crinkled at his eyes and fine lines imprinted on his forehead and near the corners of his lips, but besides that he didn’t age a bit from your childhood. 

Erwin’s bushy eyebrow quirked up in amusement, “I’m going to take that as a compliment.”

Realizing how insulting that can come off, you laughed and explained yourself. “Yes, it was supposed to be a compliment.”

Taking it in stride, he gestured for you to drink your hot chocolate. You blew on it and sipped on the chocolatey beverage, humming, content with the flavor. 

“So what have you been up to? Last time I spoke to your father he said you had left home.”

You rolled your eyes with scoff, “We both know that’s a lie.”

“I’m taking it, he kicked you out again?” 

Even with the decade of not seeing him, he knew your family never really favored you. You weren’t a problem child per se, you just had no qualms of standing up for yourself compared to your jelly-spined siblings. 

“When doesn’t he,” You joked and you were met with a chortle, but his face showed concern. 

“Are you holding up?” 

You hated how the tone shifted to something serious. Playing it off, you smiled, “Besides with my History homework, I think I’m doing just fine.” 

Erwin reached over the table and placed his hand over yours. His palm easily engulfed your hand. Warmth spread from his skin to yours. “If you need help, please don’t be a stranger. And for the homework, why don’t you come over tomorrow and I can help. I am a professor, you know?”

“Are you sure? I don’t want to intrude,” You grimaced, unsure of whether or not to accept his help. On one hand, you hadn’t seen him in years. On the other, you really did need assistance. If you failed this class, you’ll lose your scholarship and you couldn't afford that. 

He reached behind himself and pulled his phone from his back pocket. Unlocking it swiftly with his thumb, he pulled out a new contact and nodded his head towards the phone. “Put in your phone number and I will give you my address. Unless you need a ride?”

You shook your head, “No, no. I can get there myself. Thank you so much.”

Plugging your phone number in, you handed the contraption back to him. His thumb flew across the screen and your own phone buzzed against the table. On your lock screen you spied he already gave you an address and to meet him at one PM. 

“Does that work for you?” 

  Smiling up at him, you quipped, “Certainly. See you then.”

Glancing back at his phone, he sighed, “I must go or else I will be late for my next class. If anything comes up, don’t be afraid to message me. Goodbye, Y/n.”

With that, he got up from his seat and briskly walked out of the coffee shop. Through the glass, he had a certain twang to his walk as he approached his fancy, black car. Almost like he was giddy. Once he was out of view, you slammed your head against the table and groaned. Screw you and your inability to say no. At least you were getting a free tutor out of this. 

“Rich fucking bastard,” You muttered under your breath as you pulled up to his home.

His house was old styled with light colored bricks and black framing. The abode strayed from civilization. His neighbors were across the acres of woods surrounding the area. Between the foliage, their lights peeked through, but still distant. 

The driveway was paved and you thanked his income as you had no clue if your car could handle a dirt road. The old model had been with you for years, but it was reaching its end. Parked by his own car and you observed how there was another car by his. The model was a matching hue, but was a medium sized truck instead. You tilted your head in perplexity as to why a professor would need such a vehicle. Especially as you spotted various tools in the bed. 

Wisping away the dwindling thoughts, you tugged your ratty backpack from your passenger seat. As you stepped out, you felt so drab compared to the scenery. Slinging the backpack higher over your shoulder, you walked up and rapped on the door. You debated whether or not to text Erwin you were, but the thought of him escorting you from your car to his porch was humiliating. You were a big girl, you could go up to a door and knock. 

The man who opened the door certainly was not Erwin. He was definitely shorter than him, but the way he crossed his arms, you could tell with how the muscle rippled under the fabric, not to underestimate him. The man’s hair was inky strands parted to the side that fell under his eyes. Silver clashed with your own irises, sharp and analytical. He picked you apart as much as you did him. 

“You must be the brat.” If his words weren’t so belittling you would say his voice was soothing. A deep, dark timbre pleasant to your ears. Likened to how the ocean culls. 

Your face twitched and decided to ignore his taunt, “Where’s Erwin?”

The man’s eyes flashed with something you couldn’t decipher as he opened the door further. Taking that as you cue, you walked further into the home. The interior was just as grandeur as the outside. Muted colors were splattered across the living. Rich people loved their minimalism and you weren’t surprised the home barely had anything of importance in it. There were picture frames of Erwin with other people you didn’t recognize besides the man who directed from the mud room. 

“Take off your shoes,” He instructed, not answering your question. 

Toeing off your sneakers, socked feet welcomed the cool carpet. As you opened your mouth to repeat yourself, Erwin perked up from his recliner in the living room. Thumbing the off button of his phone, he placed it on the cushions and went to greet you. 

“I see you met Levi.”

“You could say that.”

The man you now know named Levi walked off with a grunt into the kitchen. What a charmer. Erwin beckoned you over with his hand like you would a dog. Patting the empty spot on the couch, you walk over and take a seat. Slacking your shoulder, your bag tumbled to your side. 

“Is there anything you would like to drink?” Erwin offered. 

“Just water is fine.”

As the older man went to fetch the beverage, Levi called from the kitchen, “I also have some tea brewing?”

You perked up at that. Levi didn’t give you the impression of someone who liked tea, but the more you think about it, it suited him. He did give off grumpy, old man vibes. 

“What kind?”

Instead of answering, he came out of the kitchen with a tray of two tea cups and a fancy kettle. The metal and china clinked together as he placed it down. A sweet, mild aroma filled the air as he poured both cups half way. You spied the odd way he held the cup around the brim. 

Levi sat on the recliner adjacent to the couch Erwin was once in. Reaching over for your own drink, you sipped it and let out a happy hum at the taste. His eyes flickered with something you couldn’t really decipher. Though, you assumed delight as he adjusted himself closer to the edge of his seat. 

“This is really good! Is this green tea?”

“No, white.” 

Erwin and Levi glanced at each other. You ignored it. The cushion dipped when Erwin sat at a respectful distance from you. You were caged between the two older men. Yet, you weren’t uncomfortable in the least. “So what are you having trouble with?”

In the time you had reconnected with Erwin, he had helped you get back on your feet. After what seemed to be the eleventh time coming over his house, you let it slip, you were living out of your car. The shock befallen on the man’s face surprised you. He seemed almost offended you went so long without telling him of your living situation. It wasn’t like you were keeping it a secret from him. The topic simply never came up in conversation. 

Immediately after hearing the news, Erwin brought you into his home office and helped you search for apartments. You refused and explained you couldn’t get one not out of choice, but because you didn’t make enough money or have a credit score. 

“I can help pay for it if that’s the issue,” He said casually.

“That’s asking for way too much.”

Twisting himself to face you in his rolling chair right next to yours, he continued, “If it was too much, I wouldn’t be offering it.”

“Yes, and I’m saying it’s too much,” You emphasized the ‘I’m’ to express how uncomfortable it made you feel.

For the first time in your life, you watched Erwin’s face steel in annoyance. His nostrils heaved out a slight flare and his thick eyebrow ticked. “You’re incredibly stubborn, you know that?”

Smiling, you offered a quick, “Yep!” 

“Since you refuse to let me pay for the apartment, at least let me find you a better job so then that issue is tackled,” He opened a new tab and put in his own bank, “Right now, let’s sign you up for credit card.” 

Unable to refuse the more palpable help, you followed along as he lectured about credit scores. In a couple months, you were able to become an almost fully functional adult, no longer needing to sleep in your car or shower in the school’s gym. Your apartment was quaint and small, and only a ten minute walk from the campus. 

Even though Erwin got you back up on your feet, you still frequently came to him and Levi’s home for school help. And for a more embarrassing reason, those two were your only source of companionship. Having two grown men, one two decades older and the other almost two decades older, be your friends must seem pathetic. Yet, you couldn’t complain when you noticed your favorite food always stocked in the pantry or how Levi let you drink his precious tea. 

Both men had a key to your apartment in case of emergency and also gave you your own copy of a house key for the same reason. In a very long time, you felt safe, warm and protected. 

Despite having a key, you still knocked on the front door. Rocking from heel to toe, you were greeted with Levi instead of Erwin. Very similar to the first time you visited. 

“Erwin is going to be late. Shitty department heads had to hold a meeting,” Levi’s gruff voice explained. 

“That’s fine, just more time for me to bother you.”

The older man clicked his tongue. 

Levi was a tough person to pinpoint. He was grumpy, stoic, cussed like a sailor, but oddly gentle and patient. He could easily read the room and fill in what was left gaping. As much as he put up a cold front, he showed his affections in tiny gestures. He would act annoyed at you or Erwin’s playful behavior, but he never did push either of you away. 

“I’m going to make tea. Don’t make a mess.”

You rolled your eyes, “I’m not a child. I’m not going to start throwing shit.”

He swung his head around the corner and glowered at you, “Knock off your shitty attitude.”

“Knock off treating me like a baby. Both you and Erwin do it.”

“Because you are a baby,” He went back to the tea and you followed him into the kitchen.

You hopped on the counter next to the stove and started swinging your legs. Levi glanced at you, before going back to the kettle. 

“How am I a baby? I’m literally in my twenties.”

With a gentle hand, he gripped your calf. You stopped in shock. Not once had he ever touched you. His palm engulfed your shin and a shiver went up your spine at the warmth. You attempted to move your leg, but it didn’t budge. Levi clutched onto the appendage further. 

“I don’t remember seeing an adult swing their legs like a kid on a swing.”

You opened your mouth to counter, but shut it once again with a ‘hmph!’ He did have a point. 

He removed himself from you as quickly as he clung on. The shape of his hand lingered. 

“I-I’m going to go to the bathroom.”

Leaping off the counter, you didn’t let Levi answer as you barrelled towards the hall. It was hard to describe the sensation settling in your chest. Sure, the touch was innocent enough, but how he easily held you down with a firm hand was discombobulating. 

As you skittered deeper into the home, you noticed a door slightly ajar. During your stay here, you never really did stray from any other places besides the living room, the bathroom and Erwin’s office. Everything else was a mystery in the large home. 

Curiosity getting the better of you, you slowly approached the door. One foot in front of the other, your hand stayed outstretched. Just as your hand cradled the knob, the door slammed closed. You screeched and jumped. 

A looming presence encompassed your hunched frame. Turning your head, there stood Erwin with an overly pleasant smile on his face. His arm was outstretched where he closed the door with a large, forceful palm. 

“Let’s not overstay our welcome, shall we?” 

You gulped, goosebumps shot all over your skin. The air was sub zero as you trembled. Something shifted out of place and it wasn’t the doorframe. 

Since the day you almost found out what was in the other room, the men appeared to be on edge. You tested it while both men were preoccupied and said room was now locked. Whatever was in there, they did not want you finding out. This only furthered your curiosity. 

As the days bled more into each other, Erwin became overbearing. Since exam season had arrived once more, you were too busy to visit the luxurious home. What was a couple visits a week, turned into maybe once a week, if that. When you did come over Erwin would hound you about living with him since you said both working and going to school was wearing you down. Of course, you refused. You finally obtained stability and freedom, why would you give that away?

You held your head in your hands, sitting in the chair Erwin bought you for his office. Stress was getting to the both of you. 

“Erwin, for the last time, I am not going to move in here,” You glanced up from your slouched position. 

He grew so much taller from this angle. Like a god sitting on top of his cloud. 

“I don’t understand why it’s such a big deal for me to provide for you. I have more than enough money to go around, it won’t hinder me in any way.”

You sighed, “Yes, I get that. We both get that. But you aren’t seeing my side at all!”

He crossed his arms and leaned back in his chair, “Please enlighten me.”

You wanted to pull your hair out. This wasn’t something you haven’t told him before. “You are treating me like I am a defenseless child that needs to be coddled. I am thankful for the help since without you I would probably still be living in my car, but that’s not the point. I am stable and I don’t need you to hold my hand anymore.”

“So you admit it; you wouldn’t be a functional adult without me.”

Ire built in your throat and you spat it out, “I would have never accepted it if you were just going to throw it back in my fucking face.”

“Language.”

Your mouth dropped in a disbelieving smile. You launched yourself backward from the chair to assert yourself taller than him. It did very little. 

Pointing your finger in his face, his complexion stayed unamused, “Right there. Stop belittling me. We are two adults having a conversation, treat me as so.”

He emerged from his seat and took back his place as the one with a height advantage. You were easily knocked down a couple pegs.  

“An adult wouldn’t shove fingers in people’s faces,” His tone stern, tittering towards anger. 

“Can you blame me! I get it, you are old enough to be my dad, but I don’t appreciate you acting like you are.”

“I am hardly acting like your father.”

“You’re twisting my words!” 

His nostrils flared, “Watch your tone.”

“Fuck off.” The choice words weren’t probably the smartest, but you were at your limit as he was. 

All you saw were icy blue eyes darken before your face swung to the side and your collapsed into the office desk. Your cheek caught on his paper weight. You fell into the wood with an audible clunk and bang. Clutching on your injured cheek, you glared up at Erwin. 

“Nope,” Was all you said.

Detaching yourself from the wood, you cradled your face as you stumbled out of the office into the hallway.

“Y/n, wait!” Erwin called from behind, but you only shuffled faster.

Blood stabbed your tongue. You licked your bottom lip. The force had cut the skin as well. 

“At least let me clean the wound,” He begged.

Now in the living room, Levi poked his head out from where he was sitting on the couch. His eyes caught the tears bubbling over and how you cradled your face.

“The wound?” Levi’s focus was now on a stressed Erwin trying to hover over you. “What the fuck happened?”

Erwin tried to answer, but you beat him to it, “He hit me and I’m leaving.”

At that, he shot up from the couch and rounded the side, “Whoa, whoa, slow down. What did you do?”

“I-I don’t know,” Erwin was in a daze. 

Levi walked over to you and tried to pry your hand from your swelling cheek, but you shook your head away from his grasp. 

“I’m leaving,” You repeated and shoved past him.

Before he could even get a word out, you slammed the door closed and ran to your car. Shakely grasping your keys, you unlocked your door and slumped into the seat. You slammed your hands against the wheel and screeched. Tears streamed down, irritating the wound. 

Roughly wiping away the salty water, you buckled yourself up and put the car into drive. As you rounded the driveway, you swore to yourself to be smarter next time. Depending on others was a debt you couldn’t afford. 

You wanted to claw your skin off, screech, throw shit—anything to release the pent up wrath inside your gut. It had been weeks since you promised yourself you would never come back to Erwin and Levi’s household, and yet, here you were. During the time you eradicated yourself from their lives, Erwin had blown up your phone with varying types of messages. They stemmed from pleading to him demanding you answer him. Levi only offered one message the whole time.

“Make sure to keep the wound clean.”

The gesture was sweet, but in the moment, it felt infantilizing. You knew how to take care of a tiny cut. After the fiftieth call, you blocked Erwin’s number. 

Radio silence met you for a couple days until you realized you couldn’t access your bank account. Then you got a call that you were fired from work. Next was the message you got from your landlord that you have an eviction notice despite paying rent on time. The last straw was when you tried to call your landlord back only to be told your phone had been shut off. 

“Idiot. You’re a fucking idiot,” You muttered to yourself. You had trusted Erwin way too much with your finances and now you were stranded. You barely even had enough gas in your tank to get you out of exact proximity to their house if shit went down. 

Slamming the door closed, you marched your way over to the entrance and banged on it as hard as you could. As if expecting you, Levi opened the door. His face was a lot more haggard than the last time you saw him. His under eyes were darker, the purplish hue sunk deep into the skin. 

“Where the fuck is he?”

Levi merely sighed and sidestepped to let you go on your rampage. There, sitting in the living room, Erwin had his ankle resting on his knee. Carefree as ever. 

“Care to tell me why the fuck I can’t get access to my bank account or my landlord won’t let me into my own goddamn apartment!” Your voice bellowed and sunk into the walls.

Erwin’s expression of cold steel did not waver in your anger. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

“I’m not here to play fucking games, Asshat,” You sneered. Whatever patience and timidness you had when first meeting him dissipated. You wanted your life back. 

“Watch it,” Erwin ordered. He arose from his seat, taking the high ground once more. From behind you, Levi made himself comfortable against the wall with arms crossed. 

“Now is not the time! I don’t know what you’re trying to do but I need money and my apartment to live, Erwin.”

“I can take care of you.” Like a broken record, he refused to see reason.

You clutched your head in frustration. Nails dug into your scalp as you fight off the tears threatening to keel over. “Listen to me,” You begged. 

“I have been listening and I don’t see why you would rather suffer than let me give you a life of comfort.”

You closed your eyes and moved your hands to dig your heels into the sockets. Letting out a shaking exhale, you said, “I am not going to throw my life away to be forced into a home where I am nothing better than a dog. A comfortable dog, but one nonetheless.”

“It wouldn’t be forever, just until you’re done with school,” Erwin tried to negotiate but you saw through it. 

“And then it will be until I’m done with grad school, then pushed further until I find a job that suits my degree, and then it's until the income is high enough for your standards. You will never be satisfied.”

Erwin’s jaw ticked. There’s nothing to be said as you laid out in front of him exactly what he planned to do. He only wanted to give you the world and you wanted nothing of it. 

“See! You can’t even deny it,” You laughed out loud, in hysterics. 

“You’re acting like I’m shackling you to the basement. All I’m asking is that you live here with me—us—so you can finish your schooling worry free.”

“A decorated cage is still a cage.” 

“Listen here,” He began as he approached with thunderous steps. 

You stumbled backwards before solidifying your footing. You weren’t going to allow him to intimidate you. 

“No, you listen here. I am done with you. If I have to, I will live in my car again. I am leaving.”

As Erwin comprehended your threat wasn’t empty, he glanced at Levi who stayed silent the whole time. Similar to a panther on the prowl, waiting. He kicked off the wall and sauntered over to your form.

Attempting to spin around to run out the house, Levi slung an arm across your neck and dug his forearm into your throat. He squeezed as you scrambled to slide your fingers in between your neck and the muscle. Your fingernails were no match for his ropey tendons.

Obviously you struggled, but it's nothing against the burly man. Even with his stature, he was stronger than Erwin. With his free hand he tugged a syringe from his pocket. He bit off the cap with his teeth and spat it out off into the room. The sharp prick hit the fragile skin of your flesh. Something was depleted into your veins. Your lips tingled as the oxygen left your lungs and the room spun round and round. Nausea crept in as your eyes crossed.

“See you soon, Pet.”

#yandere x reader #levi x reader #yandere levi #yandere erwin smith #yandere levi x reader #yandere erwin x reader #yandere aot #yandere #aot smut #erwin x reader

[girlactionfigure]

Chiune Sugihara was a Japanese diplomat in Lithuania who put his family and career at risk by issuing thousands of hand-written transit visas to Jewish refugees fleeing Eastern Europe.

Chiune was born to a middle class family in Mino, Japan on the first day of the 20th century – 1/1/00. In elementary and high school he was a top student, and his father wanted him to become a doctor. Chiune’s own dream was to enter the foreign service, and he deliberately failed the medical school entrance exam by writing only his name on the test. Instead Chiune attended Waseda University and majored in English. He also joined a Christian fraternity to practice his English.

In 1919, Chiune passed the Foreign Ministry Scholarship exam, and served in the Japanese Imperial Army as a 2nd Lieutenant stationed in Korea. He resigned his commission in 1922 and trained for the Foreign Ministry, learning Russian and German in addition to English. He aced the qualifying exam and was sent to work in the foreign office in Harbin, China.

Chiune’s strong moral compass led him to resign his post as Deputy Foreign Minister in Manchuria because of rising Japanese violence against the Chinese (just two years later was the horrific Rape of Nanking by the Japanese Imperial Army.) Chiune returned to Japan, where he married Yukiko Kikuchi. They later had four sons.

Next Chiune went to Helsinki, Finland, where he worked as a translator for the Japanese delegation. In 1939, Chiune became vice-consul of the Japanese embassy in Kauna, Lithuania. Part of his job was to find out if Germany planned to attack the Soviet Union, and to relay any information about this to his bosses in Berlin and Tokyo.

In 1940, the Soviet Union occupied Lithuania. At that time, approximately 1/3 of Lithuanians were Jewish, many of them Torah scholars. The USSR viciously persecuted Jews, especially religious ones, and the Jews of Lithuania were desperate to escape the country – especially because Nazi Germany was occupying more and more of Eastern Europe and would soon be in Lithuania. Hundreds of them, mostly Orthodox, visited the Japanese consulate to beg for exit visas to Japan. The official Japanese policy was that candidates for visas must go through elaborate bureaucratic procedures and pay significant sums of money. Chiune contacted his superiors at the Japanese Foreign minister to ask if the rules could be relaxed to help Jewish refugees. His request was denied, as were his next two requests.

Chiune could have thrown up his hands and told the Jews there was nothing he could do for them, but instead, as he did in China, he was governed by his strong sense of right and wrong, rather than soulless bureaucrats. He ignored his orders and started issuing ten-day visas for Jews to travel through Japan on their way to safe havens like Shanghai, China, where 20,000 Jews rode out the war safely.

As word got out about the Japanese visas, Jews from all over Lithuania as well as Poland began to swarm Chiune’s office. He simply wouldn’t say no to anybody, and spent 18-20 hours a day (!) painstakingly writing visas by hand. He created a month’s supply of visas every single day from August to early September 1940, providing an escape route for thousands of Jews. On September 4, the Japanese consulate in Kauna was closed and Chiune had to leave the country. He was determined to create as many transit visas as possible, and continued doing so up until the last minute. At Kanuas Railway Station, a crowd of Jews gathered to say goodbye. Right before boarding the train, Chiune bowed deeply and cried out, “Please forgive me! I cannot write anymore. I wish you the best!” Someone in the crowd shouted, “Sugihara! We’ll never forget you! I’ll surely see you again!”

Chiune was reassigned to East Prussia, then Prague, and then Bucharest, Romania. When the Soviet Union occupied Lithuania in 1944, Chiune and his family were imprisoned in a POW camp for a year and a half. Finally they were released in 1946 and returned to Japan, but the foreign office had heard about his unauthorized visas, and he was forced to resign. At about this time, the Sugihara’s youngest son died of leukemia at age seven.

Unemployable in Japan, Chiune made use of his excellent Russian language skills and spent the next 16 years working in the Soviet Union while his wife and sons stayed in Japan. Chiune’s exceptional heroism was unknown for many years, until 1968, when he was contacted by Yehoshua Nishri, an attache working at the Israeli consulate in Tokyo. Nishri spent his youth in Poland, and heard stories of the legendary Japanese hero. Nishri made it his mission to publicize Chiune’s heroic acts, and the next year, 1969, Chiune traveled to Israel as an honored guest of the Israeli government. Jews he’d saved lobbied for him to be recognized as Righteous Among the Nations by Israeli Holocaust Memorial Yad Vashem, and in 1984 he received the honor. At that time he was too sick to travel, so his wife and son Nobuki accepted the award on his behalf.

Chiune was asked why he risked everything to help thousands of strangers. He answered, “You want to know about my motivation, don’t you? Well. It is the kind of sentiments anyone would have when he actually sees refugees face to face, begging with tears in their eyes. He just cannot help but sympathize with them. Among the refugees were the elderly and women. They were so desperate that they went so far as to kiss my shoes. Yes, I actually witnessed such scenes with my own eyes. Also, I felt at that time, that the Japanese government did not have any uniform opinion in Tokyo. Some Japanese military leaders were just scared because of the pressure from the Nazis; while other officials in the Home Ministry were simply ambivalent. People in Tokyo were not united. I felt it silly to deal with them. So, I made up my mind not to wait for their reply. I knew that somebody would surely complain about me in the future. But, I myself thought this would be the right thing to do. There is nothing wrong in saving many people’s lives… The spirit of humanity, philanthropy… neighborly friendship… with this spirit, I ventured to do what I did, confronting this most difficult situation – and because of this reason, I went ahead with redoubled courage.”

Chiune Sugihara died in Japan on July 31, 1986. Despite being a hero in Israel, and among Jews worldwide, he was completely unknown in his own country. Even his own children didn’t know what he had done. A huge delegation from around the world attended Chiune’s funeral, and only then did he become known in Japan.

Chiune received many awards and accolades, most of them posthumous. Among them are Sugihara Streets in Vilna, Lithuania, and Jaffa and Netanya in Israel. There is a Sugihara House Museum in Kaunas, and a park in Vilna where 200 trees were planted on his 100th birthday. There is a life-sized statue of him in Little Tokyo in Los Angeles, featuring a plaque with a quotation from the Talmud, “He who saves one life, saves an entire world.” In 1998, Chiune’s widow Yukiko traveled to Israel and was warmly received by survivors who’d been saved by her husband. There is a Sugihara park in Jerusalem, and he was featured on an Israeli postage stamp in 1998. The Lithuanian government declared 2020 “The Year of Chiune Sugihara.” He has been the subject of multiple works of art, including books, films and a play.

It’s estimated that over 100,000 people are alive today because of the brave actions of Chiune Sugihara.

#Thursday Hero

[pietropudge]

Slob!Jordan Johnson had a date cancel on him last minute so he's pent up and horny and practically begs you to eat him out

a/n — I LOVEEE JORDANNNN

summary — basically the ask, but you're a waiter!

warnings — smut (not super descriptive), slob behavior, mentions of Jordan having an unclean ass (scat, etc. nothing heavy.)

words — 2.3k

~~~

One lone boy sat at a table, alone, in the center of a flock of drapery-white wings of table cloths, circular formations of filled chairs surrounding each. Only two chairs were at either side of the table—opposing, like an interview. The reservation was under Johnson, the young man’s voice confidently asking for two seats, and that was well over a week ago. 

It wasn’t your business to know, but why would an eleven-out-of-ten like him get stood up? He had a pretty face—you saw the way his smile made the hostess weak in the knees while you bussed tables. During the gathering of dirty plates and tarnished silverware, you dropped one from the startling display of charm and the looks he possessed. You weren’t sure why it did such a number on you. People like him came in like that all the time—dressed up in suits made to fit, usually with a wife or husband hanging off their side like an accessory, but his effect was different. Maybe it was his aura—alone, yet warm and inviting. Still able to smile even though he was nervous and it was painfully fake. His posture was still straight, he didn’t shake or hunch over as if he didn’t want to be seen. He was proud to be alone because he knew someone would eventually come to swoop him away as you set the scene for their romantic meet-up. When you went to pick up the dropped silverware after ogling the dashing man, you raised yourself back up halfway only to be eye-level with his ass as he maneuvered around you. The hostess had already done the same and he was following suit—maybe he was the arm candy someone would bring into a place like this. His ass was definitely sweet enough, filled out by his fitted pants and looking deliciously ready to unwrap.

Since then, you have barely had any interactions with the poor guy. It had been over two hours since he had been sat at a table and only the people obligated to talk to him had done so. You had one interaction with him so far, and that was to bring out a basket of breadsticks after he finished the third or fourth one; if you were being honest, it was hard to keep track with the dinner rush as the night set in. Each basket had five buttered-up sticks and he plowed through them like crazy. His aura was starting to dim, no longer warm and inviting because his nerves showed.

By the time the rush had stopped—which was around the two-hour mark of sitting the pretty boy in a chair—he was on his seventh basket. You watched him in passing glances out the kitchen door’s window while you sorted the fancy china for the dishwasher and rolled silverware into napkins. He took mismannered bites, some big, almost none of them were small unless it was the tail end of a breadstick. His cheeks would swell and had a sheen on them from the butter, making his skin look oily and smooth. 

Maybe they agreed to meet up at a nice place for dinner, or maybe their dinner was a side to the juicy conversation brazing over in both of their chests, waiting to blow out in a steamy gossip session when the other one came. You couldn’t tell—couldn’t know. It was distasteful to spy on the patrons, you were only here to serve them, not catch wind of the conversation.

That aura he had when he came in went away, though. He checked his phone—not to text his date, staring at it like there was an intentional distraction on the screen, loosened his posture, and slumped back in his chair. His breadsticks started to slide down his throat, being funneled back as he ate his feelings away. He washed it down with an expensive glass of wine that only got to be tasted by him, the whole bottle eventually finding its way down his digestive tract. Red wine stains littered his shirt, so his humility walked out like his date. You would have cared more if his date hadn’t bailed on him—why look presentable when there’s no one to impress? He was losing the ability to even care about wiping his fingers that were coated in garlic and butter onto a napkin, he just started rubbing his hands on his thighs, leaving yellow lines and white stains on his black pants. Maybe it wouldn’t be so bad for him. He still had his looks above all else, and he could walk out of here with his head held high. Maybe he was trying to find another date.

But then you noticed that he was undoing his pants—he didn’t even bother wiping his hands to do it, the garlicky stains on his black dress pants were visible from the kitchen. That was weird, and in a restaurant like the one you worked at, it would be bad to let something like that slide. The tablecloths went down to the floor and weren’t see-through, so a lot of activity could go unseen under there. But, on the other hand, his meaty ass and the top of his thighs could be seen by anyone surrounding him, and they could sure see what he was doing now. You reluctantly had to stop him as the only person picking up on his actions.

You tried to be nice, ordering the kitchen to whip up food for him that wasn’t carbs. The fastest thing they could make was a greasy burger and fries with sea salt, though. It would soften the blow, a bright side to his let-down of a night.

You went straight to his table, setting it down in front of him before he had the chance to reach for another breadstick. He kept them at the center of his table in the hopes the other person would come. “It’s on the house. Sorry, dude.” 

First step, you apologized. Now, for the hard part. His eyes were like that of a doe: needing a buck with antlers to stronghead him through this.

“And, I noticed you were possibly undressing, and we like to uphold a good image here. I know getting stood up is hard, but could you not take your pants off?” You couldn’t believe you had to say something that was common sense—and to say something that you didn’t want. It would be hot to see him eating in nothing but a blazer and partially unbuttoned white dress shirt—the bottom few buttons being undone for more ease around his privates. But you had to be professional, and judging by the turning of heads from the guests who heard your comment signaled that this could be harder than you though.

“I’ve been waiting over a week for this. Literally, I haven’t jerked off all week.” His voice was flying to a high octave as he tried to defend himself. What was he, in his early twenties? Why else would he be so upfront about his libido. “And—and eating… you know? It makes me…”

So he was being let down in more ways than one. Every bone in your body wanted to satisfy the one in his pants thanks to his whiny voice, his entitled and slob behavior. Being this close to him let you see that he had also ruined the white tablecloth too. You stayed calm, speaking in a hushed tone. “I’m sorry, but I think it’s time for me to bring you the check.”

He wasn’t someone’s sweetheart, though. Your assumption about him being a sidepiece for looks was thrown out the window. He knew what he wanted and what he wanted was for you to get under the table. “No, I’m not finished or satisfied.”

“Sir…”

“Fine, get the check.” He huffed, adding, “It’s Jordan. And can I get ketchup with this?”

You returned back to the kitchen, retrieving a bottle of ketchup. Your next stop was the point of service in the restaurant to print his check for the wine and breadbaskets—since he technically didn’t pay for an entree, so you couldn’t dismiss them as complimentary. You returned to him and he had yet to even touch his burgers or fries. “Here’s your check, Mr. Johnson.”

The boy stayed silent and reached over to his unused silverware—since he had eaten everything so far with his hands—and unrolled it. He grabbed the spoon from the trio of cutlery—that being a butter knife, fork, and the spoon in his hand—and lifted the tablecloth. He tossed it under the table and heard it clatter against the carpeted floor. Jordan raised his head, looking at you with innocent eyes, “Could you get that for me?”

“Of course.” It could just be this and then he’ll pay and leave. You wouldn’t have to think about his bad date or to pity him or to thirst over him. Just this one thing, and then you would be free to continue serving others who were actually successful in their search for love.

A bit awkwardly, you got onto your hands and knees, lifting the white cloth draped over the side of the table with one arm. You used the lifted window to crawl through and into the enclosure under the table. You were hit by the smell—he had kicked his fancy shoes off, letting his socks and feet air out as well as the stench of his crotch. At least it was hidden from the outside world, but he confirmed your suspicions: he was unbuckling his belt to do something nefarious under the table. Just as you fully got under the table, the cloth falling back down to the floor, the world went dark. Not completely impossible to see, but you had trouble finding the silverware he “dropped.”

You crawled around before coming in contact with something. It was Jordan’s knee poking your cheek, the faint smell of savory garlic wafting toward you thanks to the seasoning he wiped on his pants. At least you had a sense of where you were. But then a thought came to your mind, you were so close to him, and he didn’t drop his spoon down here to eat with his fucking burger. He was giving it to you—to signal that he wanted you to eat his two glorious scoops of vanilla buttercream hanging off his backside. The only issue was that he was still sitting regularly, he’d have to slouch further forward in his chair and lift up his legs to get you to eat him out. All it took was a tap on the inside of his thigh—so he wouldn’t know it was an accident—to get him to do so. 

The table itself was positioned just high enough to let him lift his legs to the underside of it, showing his pretty pink hole without making it obvious from the outside that he was sunken down so low to do this with you. From the outside, he just looked like he had really bad posture. You marveled at how his crack and ass could smell so bad up close and bare for your eyes to feast on but the smell must have been faint when he brushed passed you earlier. His hair was fresh with sea salt spray, so he must have showered but didn’t wash his ass.

It tasted like it, too. Funk from a buildup of musk and sweat plagued his crack, adding notes of sourness, saltiness, and shit from wiping so lazily. His entire aura wasn’t real—it was a fraud. The true Jordan was a slob, eating like he was at a lowly fast-food restaurant and that’s probably why his dare stood him up. His actions as you started to tongue his hole and lick his crack only solidified that belief.

He was holding the burger with one hand above his chest, the plate with his other in the same spot. The shakiness caused by the relief he felt meant that some of his fries fell down and under the table as you did work on his hole. Even plops of ketchup landed on the floor, from what you could see from the parts of the tablecloth that were lifted off the ground around him. But then, you heard the sound of the plate hitting the table. His hand holding the plate found you shortly after, and the plate catching all of the mess from his burger was no longer there, so most of the ketchup and grease from the burger dripped down his hands and ruined the sleeves and torso of his fitted shirt.

He reached his hand into your hair, coating it in an immeasurable amount of grease and ketchup. His words were already hard to hear from above you, but the mouthful of food added to the impossible-to-hear praise. “Fuck yeah, like that.”

The euphoric feeling of his hole being eaten out while he had the flavorful combination of his burger melting in his mouth made him cum fast. He angled his dick so it would spray out in ropes under the table. Some coated your face, some landed on the floor, and some of it hit the table and tablecloth, respectively. He passed you a napkin under the table—one that he wasn’t going to use because he was such a slob, and as his waiter, cleaning up his messes was your job.

#jordan johnson #jordan j #🍑 #smut #jordan johnson x reader #jordan johnson x male reader #TikTok x reader #fat slob #slob kink #slob #slobbification #gut #burping #burp #chunky

[estrellami-1]

So that bit where Steve rips I to Murray about outing his loved ones and pushing Nancy to cheat on him...

Have you considered (yes, I just realized it was part of the initial ask, but I've been dwelling on this for years, man): Not only does Joyce find out that Jonathan helped Nancy cheat on the boyfriend he DEFINITELY knew about, but she also just found out about the photos through Steve's upstairs bedroom window. Photos that could not ever be claimed as accidental. Now, Joyce has been holding a bit of a grudge against Steve since he broke her boy's camera. Jonathan only told her that Steve Harrington got pissed off and busted it, not why. And then Steve went and fought with Jon and her son got arrested while that rich boy got off scott free. That just reinforced her grudge, especially considering the stress she was already under at the time. But then she finds out it wasn't just Steve being a bitchy popular jock, but that her boy was also being a creepy dick. And she recalls that Steve not only apologized for breaking his camera, but that he replaced it, too.

Enjoy! Also @zerokrox-blog hope this answers your prompt :)

Jonathan’s been scared of his mom before, for good reasons: when he was seven and broke a vase after she’d told him to stop running in the house, at eleven when he lied about his grades, at fifteen when he snuck out for the first (and only) time.

Every time she gets really mad at him, she gets quiet.

She’s been silent for a solid ten minutes. The only words she’d spoken had been to Murray, to tell him to leave. She’d been quiet then, too, then just stayed silent.

“So here’s what I thought the story was,” she starts, and Jonathan wants to dig a hole to China and bury himself. “I thought Nancy and Steve had broken up, then you and she had gotten together. I thought he broke your camera because he got mad at you for who-knows-what. I thought he fought you, antagonized you, until you couldn’t hold back anymore. I thought I knew you. I thought I knew the son, the man, I raised, would never sleep with a taken woman. Would never hide in the bushes and take pictures of someone else’s property or body. And to think she’d been half-naked…” Joyce shakes her head, leans back in her chair. Considers the knife still clutched in her hand and very carefully places it down next to her plate. “To think that I thought he’d been acting like Lonnie. Worse than Lonnie, even, which maybe wasn’t a fair comparison for a teenager, but I thought I knew my son.” She shakes her head again, stands, picks up her plate and silverware. Doesn’t look at Jonathan when she says, “I was partially right. Someone was acting like Lonnie. It just wasn’t who I’d originally thought. And to think I held onto a grudge against him for years.” She purses her lips, steps back from the table. Whispers the next line. “You need to think very, very carefully about your next move. I don’t know if Steve’s forgiven you. If I were him, I don’t know that I would.” She steps back again. “While you think about it… well. Forgive me if I need some time to think about it too. After all, you also lied to me.” She tilts her head in thought. “If memory serves, he replaced the camera he smashed. I feel that bears remembering when you think about what to do.” With that, she turns and makes her way to the kitchen.

And Jonathan? He feels about as small as a gnat. Even smaller. Nancy’s trembling next to him, hand over her mouth, and he’s not sure he should reach out. He’s not sure she’d want him to; not sure he wants to. He does, though, grazes the back of her hand with a fingertip. She chokes, looking at him with wide, tear-filled eyes, and he helps her up, helps her out the front door and into his car, gets in and starts driving without thinking about it first.

He realizes most of the way there that he was driving to the Wheelers’. Walks inside with Nancy when they get there, all the way up to her room. Silent.

“We need to talk,” Nancy says, and Jonathan nods even as he feels like the rug’s been yanked out from under his feet.

Fighting monsters was easy compared to this.

#stranger things #steve harrington #nancy wheeler #jonathan byers #jancy #past stancy #joyce byers #Joyce is a badass y’all. don’t think she’s not when she is #she’ll tear you apart with a smile #request #ask #by the way my inbox is still open!! #keep ‘em coming #(if you want to ofc) #starambles