#freight exchange

[jackawful]

hopping trains is so cool and good like...a little bit of patience and respect, a little willingness to break the rules & good sense enough to do so safely and be quiet when it counts, and you can just fuckin GO anywhere for free? it's like a really long mostly-flat rollercoaster. it's like being a flea on the back of a dragon. you ride a great loud mechanical beast that has been a tool of genocide and capitalist cruelty since its invention and you parasitize it for your own ends and in doing so you join a lineage of poor people taking agency over their lives dating back over a century. the brake dust I saw sparkling in the air has seeped into my pores and made me a new person.

[clarii]

Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’

Summary: A year ago, Eddie Munson made a mistake he’s regretted ever since. When you walk into the video store where he works with Robin and Steve, old wounds resurface, and Eddie’s left grappling with the past. It doesn’t take long for Steve, Robin, and the kids to notice—and they decide to take matters into their own hands to fix things.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Reader

Warnings: Angst, fluff

Author’s note: Good morning guys, I felt like Tumblr was lacking on some good old angst and fluff stories of him without any smut. This one is kinda long.

Eddie Munson’s job at Family Video wasn’t glamorous, but it was steady. After everything with the Upside Down, normalcy was a welcome relief. The place was rarely busy, which left plenty of time for him, Steve, and Robin to mess around behind the counter and argue over who was more tolerable to customers.

“Come on, Stevie,” Eddie said one slow Thursday afternoon, lazily spinning a VHS tape between his fingers. “Don’t act like you don’t love when middle-aged moms ask you to recommend a rom-com.”

“Better than you scaring them off with your metalhead charm,” Steve shot back.

Robin snorted from the counter. “Please, you’re both terrible. I’m the only one holding this place together.”

The three of them fell into easy banter, their laughter echoing through the empty store. Eddie had just started recounting a ridiculous D&D campaign he’d run when the bell above the door jingled.

“Welcome to Family Video!” Robin chirped without looking up from her inventory list.

Eddie, however, froze. His voice caught in his throat, his grip tightening on the tape in his hands. He didn’t need to turn around to know it was you. He’d recognize your presence anywhere.

A year. It had been a whole year since the last time he’d seen you—since the night he’d screwed everything up.

You didn’t even glance his way as you walked toward the shelves, your focus entirely on the rows of tapes. Your hair, your stance, the way you moved—it all hit him like a freight train, dragging memories to the surface that he’d tried so hard to bury.

“Uh, Eddie?” Steve nudged him, eyebrows raised. “You good, man?”

“Yeah,” Eddie mumbled, though his voice was tight. He forced himself to turn away, but he couldn’t stop glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

When you finally approached the counter with your rental, you placed it down without a word.

Robin, picking up on the tension, stepped forward to help. “Oh, this one’s good! Classic rom-com—”

“Just the tape, please,” you said curtly, cutting her off. Your voice wasn’t sharp, but it wasn’t warm, either.

Eddie didn’t dare speak. He kept his hands busy with the register, avoiding eye contact. When you paid and took your receipt, you turned on your heel and left without so much as a glance back.

The bell jingled again as the door closed behind you.

Eddie’s eyes, however, stayed fixed on the door long after you were gone.

It didn’t take long for Steve and Robin to notice.

“Okay, spill,” Robin said, crossing her arms and leaning against the counter. “What was that?”

“Yeah, dude,” Steve added. “You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”

Eddie sighed, rubbing the back of his neck. He could feel their eyes boring into him, and he knew there was no getting out of this.

“That was her,” he said finally, his voice low.

“Her who?” Robin asked.

“The girl,” Eddie clarified. “The one I told you about. The one I…” He trailed off, the words catching in his throat.

“The one you majorly screwed over last year?” Robin guessed, her eyebrows shooting up.

Eddie winced. “Yeah, that one.”

Steve and Robin exchanged a look, and Eddie groaned.

“Don’t start, okay? I already know I’m an idiot. I’ve known for a year.”

Robin leaned forward, her expression curious. “Okay, but what exactly happened? You’ve never given us the full story.”

Eddie hesitated. It wasn’t something he liked to talk about, but he knew they weren’t going to let it go.

“She and I were… close,” he admitted. “Really close. She came to Hellfire sometimes, we’d hang out after school—she even helped me set up a few campaigns. But then, right before graduation, I panicked.”

“Panicked about what?” Steve asked, genuinely curious.

“About her,” Eddie said, his voice bitter. “She was everything I wasn’t. Smart, grounded, going places. And me? I was just the town freak. I thought if I pushed her away, it’d be easier for both of us. So I said some… things.”

Robin frowned. “Like what?”

“Like how I didn’t care about her the way she thought I did,” Eddie said quietly. “That she deserved better than some loser like me. It wasn’t true, but… I said it anyway.”

“Dude,” Steve muttered, shaking his head.

Eddie shrugged helplessly. “I thought I was doing the right thing, okay? But I messed everything up. She hasn’t spoken to me since, and I don’t blame her.”

Robin and Steve shared a look that could only be described as scheming.

“You know,” Robin said slowly, “this feels like the kind of thing we could fix.”

“Definitely,” Steve agreed. “I mean, it’s basically a rom-com setup. Guy screws up, realizes he’s an idiot, wins girl back with grand gesture.”

Eddie groaned. “No, no, no. Absolutely not. I don’t need you two meddling in my love life.”

“Too late,” Robin said with a grin. “Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’ is officially a go.”

It didn’t take long for the rest of the gang to get involved.

When Dustin heard the story, he was immediately on board. “Eddie, you idiot,” he said, smacking him on the shoulder. “You’ve been pining over her for a year and didn’t tell me? I could’ve fixed this ages ago!”

“I don’t need fixing,” Eddie muttered.

“Clearly, you do,” Max said, rolling her eyes. “You’re hopeless.”

Even Lucas, Mike, and Will had ideas, though most of them were wildly impractical. (“Write her a song,” Mike suggested. “Girls love that stuff.” “She’ll just think it’s cheesy,” Lucas argued.)

Through it all, Eddie tried to protest, but deep down, a part of him hoped they could pull it off.

The plan came together piece by piece, each member of the group contributing ideas that were somehow both chaotic and oddly brilliant.

“What about a mixtape?” Dustin suggested as he sprawled across Steve’s couch.

“A mixtape screams ‘80s romance,” Robin said, nodding. “But it needs to be personal. Like, songs that mean something to you and her.”

Eddie groaned, running a hand through his hair. “You guys don’t get it. She doesn’t even want to look at me, let alone listen to some cheesy mixtape.”

“Then don’t make it just about the tape,” Max said from her spot on the floor. “Make it part of something bigger.”

“And where’s this ‘bigger’ happening?” Steve asked, leaning against the wall with his arms crossed.

The group fell silent, all eyes turning to Eddie. He frowned, tapping his fingers against his knee. Then it hit him—an idea so crazy it might actually work.

“The Hawkins Carnival,” he said.

“What about it?” Dustin asked.

“They’re setting it up this weekend, right? She used to love going to that thing. We’d sneak off after school and blow all our money on funnel cakes and rides.” His voice softened as the memories flooded back. “Maybe… maybe I could meet her there.”

“Okay, but what’s the actual plan?” Robin pressed. “You can’t just show up and expect her to swoon over you.”

“Yeah,” Steve added. “You need a moment. Something big. Something unforgettable.”

Eddie thought for a moment, then smirked. “I’ve got just the thing.”

The days leading up to the carnival were a whirlwind of preparation. Dustin helped Eddie pick out songs for the mixtape, while Robin and Steve coached him on what to say.

“Apologize first,” Steve advised. “Don’t try to justify what you did—just own up to it.”

“And be sincere,” Robin added. “No sarcasm, no jokes. This isn’t the time for your usual deflection.”

Eddie rolled his eyes but took their advice to heart.

Meanwhile, the kids worked on the logistics of his grand gesture. Lucas and Max snuck into the carnival grounds to scope out the perfect location, while Will and Mike brainstormed backup plans in case things went south.

By the time Saturday rolled around, Eddie was a bundle of nerves. The mixtape was finished, his speech was rehearsed, and the stage was set. All that was left was for you to show up.

The Hawkins Carnival was alive with lights and laughter, the scent of fried food wafting through the air. Eddie stood near the Ferris wheel, his heart pounding as he scanned the crowd.

“You’ve got this,” Dustin said, clapping him on the shoulder. “Just stick to the plan.”

Eddie nodded, though his palms were sweating.

Then he saw you.

You were standing by the carousel, looking effortlessly beautiful in the glow of the carnival lights. The sight of you took his breath away, and for a moment, he almost lost his nerve. But then he remembered why he was here—why he’d spent the past year kicking himself for letting you go.

He squared his shoulders and approached you, his heart racing.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice barely audible over the noise of the carnival.

You turned, your eyes widening in surprise. “Eddie?”

“Can we talk?” he asked, his voice pleading.

You hesitated, your expression guarded. But after a moment, you nodded. “Fine.”

Eddie led you to a quieter spot near the edge of the carnival, away from the crowds. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out the mixtape, holding it out to you.

“What’s this?” you asked, eyeing it warily.

“It’s… an apology,” he said. “And a thank-you. And a promise to do better if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him, your fingers brushing the edge of the tape but not taking it. “Why now, Eddie? Why after all this time?”

“Because I’ve been an idiot,” he admitted. “I thought I was doing you a favor by pushing you away. I told myself you deserved better, but the truth is, I was scared. Scared of how much I cared about you. Scared of screwing it up.”

He took a deep breath, his hands trembling. “But I did screw it up. And I hate myself for that. I just… I needed you to know that I’m sorry. And that I never stopped…”

“Never stopped what?” you prompted, your voice soft.

“Never stopped loving you,” he said, the words tumbling out before he could stop them.

For a moment, there was only silence. Then you spoke, your voice barely above a whisper.

“You really hurt me, Eddie.”

“I know,” he said, his voice breaking. “And I’ll spend the rest of my life making it up to you if you’ll let me.”

You stared at him for what felt like an eternity, and Eddie braced himself for the worst. But then, slowly, you reached for the tape, your fingers curling around it.

“I’ll listen to it,” you said softly.

Eddie’s heart soared. “That’s all I’m asking.”

But the night wasn’t over yet.

As you turned to leave, the Ferris wheel lit up behind you, the carnival music swelling in the background. Eddie hesitated, then called out.

“Wait!”

You turned back, your brow furrowed.

“Will you ride the Ferris wheel with me?” he asked, his voice trembling. “One last time?”

Your lips curved into a small smile, and for the first time in a year, Eddie felt hope.

“Okay,” you said.

As the two of you climbed into the Ferris wheel carriage, the world below seemed to fade away. The lights, the noise, the crowds—it all disappeared, leaving just the two of you suspended in the night sky.

And as the Ferris wheel reached its peak, Eddie turned to you, his eyes searching yours.

“I meant what I said,” he whispered. “I love you. I never stopped.”

This time, you didn’t hesitate. You leaned in, closing the distance between you, and kissed him.

The world tilted, the stars spinning above, but Eddie didn’t care. For the first time in a year, everything felt right.

The Ferris wheel creaked softly as it came to a stop, grounding you and Eddie back in the bustle of the carnival. But neither of you moved to get out of the carriage right away. Instead, you stayed seated, your hands still intertwined, your heads leaning close together.

“You know,” you said, breaking the silence, “if you mess this up again, I’m never speaking to you.”

Eddie let out a breathless laugh, his thumb brushing against the back of your hand. “Fair enough. But I won’t. You’ve got my word.”

You tilted your head, studying him for a moment. His dark eyes, once filled with nervous energy, now held something softer. Something earnest. You gave his hand a small squeeze.

“I’ll hold you to that, Munson.”

The Ferris wheel operator coughed awkwardly from below, snapping you both out of the moment. “Uh, you getting out or planning to rent the thing for the night?”

Eddie grinned and hopped out, offering you his hand to help you down. The two of you wandered back into the glowing chaos of the carnival, your shoulders brushing with every step.

The next morning, the story of your reunion had spread faster than Eddie anticipated.

When he walked into Family Video for his shift, Steve was already smirking behind the counter, Robin perched on top of it with a knowing grin. Dustin, Mike, and Lucas had apparently stopped by, too, judging by the excited chatter echoing through the store.

“Look who’s finally not single!” Robin announced loudly as Eddie stepped inside.

Steve threw an arm around Eddie’s shoulders, ruffling his hair. “How does it feel, Romeo?”

“Like I should’ve kept my mouth shut about all this,” Eddie muttered, though he couldn’t keep the grin off his face.

“C’mon, man, don’t be shy,” Dustin said, grinning ear to ear. “We did help, after all. You should be thanking us.”

“Oh, thank you, wise sages of Hawkins,” Eddie said, bowing dramatically. “I couldn’t have done it without your meddling.”

Robin snorted. “Damn right.”

Later that week, you stopped by Family Video, much to the delight of the gang.

“Look who it is!” Robin sang as you walked in, nudging Eddie.

You shot her a mock glare before turning your attention to Eddie, who had abandoned all pretense of professionalism to lean against the counter with a wide grin.

“Hi,” you said, a little shyly.

“Hi,” he replied, his tone soft and warm.

Robin and Steve exchanged a glance, then bolted for the back room, dragging Dustin and the others with them.

“Hey, we weren’t done!” Dustin protested, but Robin slammed the door shut behind them, leaving you and Eddie alone.

Eddie leaned closer. “They mean well, but they’re the absolute worst, I swear.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “They’re not so bad. I think I owe them, actually.”

“For what?”

“For convincing me to give you another chance.”

Eddie’s smile faltered slightly. “Do I… deserve another chance?”

You reached across the counter, taking his hand. “You’re earning it. And so far, you’re doing a pretty good job.”

The weight that had been pressing on Eddie’s chest for a year seemed to lift entirely. He grinned, his fingers curling around yours.

“Well, then,” he said, his voice playful but sincere. “I guess I’d better keep it up, huh?”

You smirked. “You’d better.”

As you left the store, mixtape in hand, Eddie watched you go with a goofy grin on his face. Steve emerged from the back room just in time to catch him staring.

“Still gazing after her like a lovesick puppy?” Steve teased.

“Absolutely,” Eddie said without shame.

Robin grinned as she joined them. “Well, looks like Operation ‘Fix Eddie’s Screw-Up’ was a success.”

“Don’t ever call it that again,” Eddie groaned, though his smile didn’t waver.

And as the group broke into laughter, Eddie realized something: he wasn’t just grateful to have you back in his life. He was grateful for all of it—the chaos, the meddling, the friends who refused to let him give up on love.

Because this? This was a second chance he wasn’t going to waste.

The End.

[0omillo0]

Your fics are so good literally I check this place every day. I would mainline skz angst fics if I could. Angst/hurt/comfort PLEASE. Hyunjin one where reader was in an abusive relationship in the past and they get into an argument that was really miscommunication and Hyunjin like, doesn’t raise his fists but like turns around fast or something and spooks reader and they run off, no phone no keys no nothing. Pure flight mode.

Hyunjin x reader ; angst -> comfort

warnings: abusive ex, mention of fighting

a/n: I’ve FINALLY finished school I’m so tired, but I’m happy I can write all your requests now! (thank you xoxo). also thank you for requesting this! It’s the same problem I have so it was comforting writing this

•

It wasn’t Hyunjin’s fault.

You kept telling yourself that, repeating it silently, like a mantra, as the tension between you both began to rise. The words in your head sounded steady, but your body didn’t believe them. The weight pressing on your chest grew heavier with each exchanged word, with every flicker of frustration in his voice.

Hyunjin was nothing like him.

But no matter how hard you tried, the past didn’t stay buried.

Your ex had turned arguments into weapons. He had wielded raised voices like shackles, holding you captive. Apologies had come like clockwork after the damage was done, hollow promises that nothing would change. It had taken years to leave—years to find your way out of the cycle. And when you met Hyunjin, with his kind heart and gentle soul, you’d believed healing was possible.

You wanted so desperately to believe it.

The argument started over something small, something so inconsequential you barely remembered how it had begun. You’d mentioned the groceries—how there were none left at home—and he had bristled.

“I can’t do everything, Y/N,” he said sharply, barely glancing up from where he stood at the counter, his voice carrying an edge that made you pause.

It took a moment for you to respond. “I didn’t say you had to. I was just—”

“You were just what?” He turned then, meeting your gaze with frustration flickering in his dark eyes. “Pointing out another thing I forgot? Adding it to the list?”

The words hit you like a wave, unsteadying your footing. Your heart sank as you studied his expression.

“That’s not fair,” you said quietly, your tone cautious now. “I wasn’t trying to blame you for anything.”

“Well, it sure sounded like it.” He ran a hand through his hair, his voice lower now but no less biting.

You took a step forward, something twisting painfully inside you. “Why are you acting like this?” you asked, your voice rising slightly. You hated the tremor that betrayed you, hated that you already felt like you were losing control.

“I’m not acting like anything!” he shot back, his voice louder now, filling the space between you. “Why do you always have to push? Why can’t you just let things go?”

“Because I care about you, Hyunjin! I care when you’re upset, and I don’t know why you won’t just tell me what’s wrong!”

A bitter laugh escaped his lips as he turned his head, shaking it in disbelief. “Maybe I don’t want to talk about it. Did you think of that?”

The words cut deeper than you expected, the sharpness in his tone stealing the air from your lungs.

“I’m just trying to help—”

“Well, maybe I don’t need your help!” he interrupted, his voice breaking into a shout.

You flinched at the sound, the echo of it slamming into you like a freight train. Your heart was pounding now, your breath coming shorter. Your feet shuffled backward, almost on instinct, but he didn’t seem to notice.

“God, you act like you need to fix everything,” he continued, his frustration spilling out unchecked. “Like you need to fix me.”

Your breath hitched, and the room around you seemed to shift. For a moment, Hyunjin’s voice wasn’t his—it was someone else’s. Someone whose words were weapons. Someone who’d told you time and time again that you were the problem.

“I don’t want to fix you,” you whispered, your voice trembling as you tried to steady yourself. “I just want to understand.”

“Well, maybe I don’t need you to understand!” His voice broke again, louder this time, frustration and exhaustion tangled together in every syllable.

And then it happened.

Hyunjin turned sharply, his hand flying up to rake through his hair in agitation. The movement was sudden, unintentional, but your body didn’t care. Your mind didn’t stop to think.

You ran.

You didn’t even remember the door slamming behind you, your bare feet hitting the pavement as you fled into the cold night air.

The streets blurred as you moved, the echo of his voice—louder, sharper than you’d ever heard it—ringing in your ears. Your heart pounded painfully in your chest, your breaths coming in short, frantic gasps. You didn’t stop to grab your keys or your phone. You didn’t stop to think about where you were going.

The only thought in your mind was to escape.

The cold pavement stung your feet, but you barely felt it. The thin fabric of your shirt did nothing to shield you from the biting wind, but you didn’t care. The fear clawing at your chest was louder than anything else.

You didn’t stop until your legs gave out beneath you, your body collapsing onto a park bench in the middle of nowhere. The silence around you was deafening, broken only by the sound of your ragged breaths.

You curled into yourself, pulling your knees to your chest as tears spilled down your face. The trembling in your hands wouldn’t stop, no matter how tightly you clutched at your arms.

“I’m so stupid,” you whispered to yourself, your voice breaking between sobs. “He’s not like that. He’d never—”

But the fear wouldn’t let go.

When Hyunjin realized you were gone, it was like the air had been sucked out of the room. The door was ajar, swaying slightly in the wind. The apartment felt empty without you there.

“Y/N!” he called out, his voice laced with panic as he grabbed his coat and bolted into the night.

He searched everywhere he could think of: the café you loved, the little bookstore down the street, the convenience store on the corner.

But you weren’t there.

He called your name again and again, his voice growing hoarse as the minutes dragged on.

And then he saw you.

You were curled up on a bench beneath a flickering streetlight, your shoulders shaking with silent sobs.

“Y/N!” he shouted, relief and guilt flooding his chest as he ran toward you.

Your head snapped up, your tear-streaked face locking onto his. For a moment, you tensed, your body shrinking back as if to protect itself.

“It’s me,” he said softly, raising his hands in surrender. “It’s just me.”

He approached slowly, his heart breaking at the sight of you. “Can I come closer?”

You nodded after a moment, your breaths shaky.

He knelt in front of you, his hands hovering uncertainly before he reached out to place his coat over your trembling shoulders. “You’re freezing,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “God, I’m so sorry, Y/N. I didn’t mean—”

“It’s not your fault,” you cut in, your voice barely audible. “I panicked. It’s—it’s my past. I just…” You couldn’t finish, fresh tears spilling over.

Hyunjin reached for your hands, his own trembling as he held them gently. “I don’t care how long it takes, or what it takes—I’ll do whatever I need to so you feel safe again. Please, just let me take you home.”

The apartment felt warmer when you returned, but you still shivered beneath the blanket Hyunjin had wrapped around you. He made tea in silence, his movements slow and careful, as if afraid to startle you.

When he finally sat beside you, he looked at you with an intensity that made your chest tighten.

“I want to know,” he said softly, his voice trembling. “I want to understand what you’ve been through. I don’t want to hurt you again.”

You hesitated, the words catching in your throat. But when you saw the worry in his eyes, the love that hadn’t wavered despite everything, you told him.

You told him everything.

Hyunjin listened without interrupting, his hands gripping yours tightly.

“I’ll never raise my voice like that again,” he said when you finished, his voice thick with emotion. “I’ll never make you feel unsafe. I swear.”

You nodded, leaning into him as his arms wrapped around you. You let yourself believe him.

tags: @intartaruginha @hannamoon143 @inlovewithstraykids @whoa-jo @madirye062 @vixensss @sseawavee @emilyywhyy @halfwinterhalfuniverse @velvetmoonlght

[the-winter-spider]

Invisible | Part 10

Pairings: Bucky x Reader AU

Word Count: 2.7k

Warnings: Angst, stupidity, annoyingness lol

A/N: This is the shortest chapter i have lol i also lowkey might add flashbacks into each chapter to add more depth and show more of the before.

The door slams behind you, leaving the apartment in silence, and for a moment, Bucky just stands there, his fists clenched, heart pounding as he processes what just happened. His chest is tight, and he feels the rage and regret building up until it erupts.

With a frustrated yell, he grabs the nearest lamp and hurls it across the room. The shattering glass echoes, cutting through the silence like a knife. Pieces scatter across the floor, a reflection of the chaos inside him.

“Goddammit!” he shouts, his voice cracking as he rakes his hands through his hair, pacing in circles like a caged animal. His breaths come fast and shallow, his mind racing through the night, every word exchanged like a dagger twisting deeper into his chest.

For a few seconds, he just stands there, staring at the broken lamp, his hands trembling. But the stillness is unbearable. He bolts for the door, flinging it open and stepping out into the hallway, shouting your name, his voice raw and desperate. He runs outside looking up and down the sidewalk “ Come on, don’t do this—please!”

But his voice is swallowed by the noise of a New York City Saturday night—distant laughter, honking horns, the steady hum of life moving on without him. He looks up and down the street, hoping, praying for even a glimpse of you, but you’re gone.

His pulse quickens, panic clawing its way into his chest. He rushes back inside, snatching his phone off the coffee table. His fingers fumble over the screen as he types out a frantic message.

Where are you? Please come back.

He hits send, but the empty silence that follows feels like a punch to the gut. He types again, his hands shaking as his heart pounds against his ribs.

I’m sorry. Just tell me you’re okay.

The seconds stretch into eternity as he stares at the screen, waiting for something—anything. When nothing comes, he dials your number, his thumb trembling as he presses the call button. He presses the phone to his ear, the ringing tone like a ticking clock in his mind.

Then he hears it: a faint buzzing, too close. His stomach drops as he turns toward the ceramic bowl by the door—the one he’d made for you last year on your birthday. A bowl meant for keys, little mementos… or your phone. He steps toward it slowly, as if delaying the inevitable, and peers inside. His chest tightens when he sees your phone lying there, abandoned.

“Dammit,” he whispers, his voice cracking. His hand hovers over it for a moment before he picks it up, his knuckles white around the edges. You’d left it behind. The weight of it all—the fight, his words, the reality of you walking out like that—hits him like a freight train.

He sinks down onto the floor, clutching your phone in his lap, his head falling into his hands. His breaths come in uneven gasps, and for the first time in years, tears spill freely down his face. He sees it all replaying in his mind: the way your face crumpled as you turned away, the sound of the door slamming behind you, the silence that followed.

Go. I don’t want you here.

The words ring in his ears, echoing with all the venom and finality he hadn’t meant but couldn’t take back. They were born out of fear and frustration, but now they feel like the truth—like he’s pushed you away for good.

After a moment, he wipes at his face, sniffs, and forces himself to his feet. This isn’t over. It can’t be.

He throws on his coat and rushes out the door, his mind racing as he retraces all the places you might have gone. First, the bar down the street—the one you’ve spent countless nights in, laughing over drinks, sharing secrets you wouldn’t tell anyone else. But it’s packed, unfamiliar faces filling the space where you should be.

Next, the café where you always get your Sunday morning coffee. The lights are dimmed, chairs stacked on tables. Closed. His heart sinks, but he presses on.

The bookstore is next. The one with late hours, where you could spend hours flipping through old paperbacks and laughing at obscure poetry collections. But it’s empty too, the familiar warmth of the shop now a cold reminder of how lost you are.

Finally, he heads to the park. The park where you’d spent so many nights sitting on the old wooden benches, talking under the stars. It’s quiet here, the hum of the city fading into the background. He sits down on one of those benches, his head falling into his hands as his shoulders shake.

He’s failed you. He’s failed himself. The weight of everything he’s been holding back—the fear, the love, the guilt—crashes down all at once. Silent tears stream down his face as he tilts his head up toward the sky, the stars blurring through his tears.

Then his phone buzzes in his pocket.

He scrambles for it, hope surging in his chest, but when he sees the name, his heart twists painfully.

Steve.

His thumb hovers over the screen before he opens the message.

She’s here. She walked from the apartment without her phone or coat. You let her walk out like that? What the hell were you thinking?

Bucky’s throat tightens, and his fingers curl around the phone. His vision blurs as he reads the words over and over, Steve’s anger matching his own self-loathing. He types out a response, but his fingers falter, and he deletes it. What could he say? There was no excuse for what he’d done.

Instead, he slips the phone back into his pocket and leans forward, burying his face in his hands. The ache in his chest deepens, and for the first time, he lets himself feel the full weight of what he’s lost.

He stares up at the sky again, the stars offering no comfort, only the cold realization that he might have pushed you away for good.

And he doesn’t know if he’ll ever get you back. But he never really had you in the first place.

As you step out of the shower, the quiet hum of voices drifts down the hall. Curiosity—and a bit of anxiety—tugs at you as you wrap yourself in a towel and press your ear to the bathroom door. Relief washes over you when you recognize Natasha and Wanda’s voices mixed with Sam and Steve’s, and you close your eyes, exhaling slowly. They’re here; you’re not alone.

Gathering yourself, you open the door and step into the living room, where Natasha is pacing, visibly agitated, while Wanda sits on the couch, her face full of concern. Sam and Steve stand nearby, leaning against the counter, both looking serious. When they see you, the conversation pauses, and Natasha stops mid-rant.

“Hey, there you are,” Wanda says softly, standing up to meet you. “Are you feeling any better?”

You offer a small smile. “Yeah, thanks. Just… processing, I guess.”

Wanda nods, gently placing a hand on your shoulder. “We’re here for you. Whatever you need.”

Natasha, however, looks ready to explode. She crosses her arms, her eyes flashing with anger. “It is not okay,” she says firmly. “You don’t just let your so-called best friend walk out alone at night, without so much as a phone or coat.”

You shrug, avoiding everyone’s eyes as you tuck a damp strand of hair behind your ear. “Maybe… maybe we were never really friends. Maybe it was just the convenience of it all, you know?”

Wanda’s eyes widen slightly as she squeezes your shoulder, her voice soft. “You don’t mean that.”

You don’t answer because you know thats just bullshit, but thinking that hurts less, you sigh running a hand through your wet hair, glancing down as the hurt lingers in your chest. The silence stretches for a moment before Natasha breaks it, her tone gentler now.

“So… how was your date with Dean?” she asks, a note of curiosity softening her expression.

A sad smile tugs at your lips. “It was… everything a girl could dream of. He was respectful, charming… and he actually listened to me.” You laugh quietly, shaking your head. “It was perfect.”

Natasha raises an eyebrow, looking hopeful. “So… are you going to go on another one with him?”

You hesitate, glancing in Steve’s direction for a brief second before looking back at Natasha. “Yeah… I think so.”

Sam shifts, clearing his throat, a hesitant look on his face. “So, I hate to be the bearer of bad news here, but… you and Bucky still live together. What’s the plan?”

You feel everyone’s eyes on you, and for a moment, the weight of it all settles heavily. You swallow, looking down, and shrug. “I don’t know,” you admit, voice barely above a whisper. “I can’t just… keep going back to the way things were. But I don’t know what comes next either. He’s Bucky yknow?”

Steve watches you, his face soft and understanding, and he offers a reassuring nod. You take a deep breath and settle onto the couch, feeling the weight of everyone’s concerned gazes. After a pause, you look around, your voice soft but firm. “Look, you guys can’t just be here for me. You’ve gotta be there for Bucky, too.”

Natasha scoffs, crossing her arms and shooting you a look. “As if! He’s the one who let you walk out in the middle of the night!....In New York!!! You’re too good of a friend if you’re even thinking about him right now.”

You give her a sad smile, shrugging slightly. “It’s… not about that, even if it was i wouldn’t of let him stop me, i made the decision to leave, i-i could have went to my room and --”

Natasha throws her arms up “Really? Are you kidding me? I love you babe but you’ve been defending him your whole life, he needs to take fault!”

You shake your head, your voice slight rasing “Its not that simple Nat and you know it” You hear her grumble before continuing “He’s going through something too. We’re all friends for a reason, right? We don’t get to just pick sides.”

Natasha rolls her eyes, groaning. “You’re way too good of a friend. Honestly, you’re killing me here.”

You manage a weak chuckle, but before you can respond, you hear Sam moving toward the door. He grabs his keys and his phone, his expression resolute.

Steve raises an eyebrow, looking over at him. “Where are you going?”

Sam glances back, determination in his gaze. “You heard the woman,” he says, nodding toward you. “I’m gonna go be a friend to one of my best friends.”

A surge of gratitude rises in you, and you give him a small, sincere smile. “Thank you, Sammy.”

He nods, a soft smile playing on his lips as he looks at you, and his voice holds a quiet warmth. “What are friends for?”

1 month ago

The air was crisp, filled with the mingling scents of freshly baked bread, blooming flowers, and sizzling street food. The bustling energy of the farmer’s market buzzed around you as you strolled through the vibrant stalls. Your arm was linked with Bucky’s, the two of you laughing as you navigated through the crowd, the warm Sunday morning sun casting a golden glow over everything.

Natasha and Wanda were a few stalls back, rifling through retro furniture pieces and vinyl records for their new apartment. Sam was predictably at a food truck, enthusiastically sampling every free bite they offered.

“You know where we’re headed,” you said with a grin, gently tugging Bucky toward the familiar book stall at the far end of the market.

He chuckled, squeezing your arm lightly. “Obviously. Can’t leave without finding something we don’t have space for on our shelves.”

You both were English majors, and literature had always been your shared sanctuary. The book stall was a small haven of dog-eared novels, rare editions, and hidden gems that called to you like an old friend.

But as you approached, Bucky suddenly stopped in his tracks. His grip on your arm loosened, and his head turned sharply, his expression shifting. “Kate?” he said, more to himself than to you.

Before you could even process it, his arm slipped out of yours, and he was weaving through the crowd, heading toward a figure you hadn’t noticed until now. A brunette. He didn’t say another word, leaving you standing there, your heart sinking as his back disappeared into the sea of people.

You blinked, dumbfounded. “Okay… what just happened?”

“Hey,” a familiar voice said behind you. You turned to see Steve approaching, a paper bag of pastries in hand. His brow furrowed slightly as he glanced around. “Where’d Bucky go?”

You shrugged, trying to keep your voice light. “He saw someone he knew. An old friend, I guess.”

Steve nodded slowly, his concern softening into curiosity. “Did you two make it to the books yet?”

You forced a small smile. “No, not yet. We were about to.”

Steve tilted his head, offering his arm with a warm smile. “Well, do you want to look somewhere else while we wait for him to come back?”

Your heart ached a little, but his kindness made it easier. “Sure,” you said, linking your arm with his. Steve always had a way of making things feel okay, even when they weren’t.

He led you toward the next section of the market, where stalls displayed vintage jewellery, scarves, and other unique trinkets. As you browsed, your eyes caught on something that made you gasp softly—a locket, its delicate gold surface glinting in the sunlight. It looked almost identical to the one you’d lost at some stupid college party that led to a panic attack, it had been so precious to you because it was a family heirloom passed down multiple generations that you of all people lost. It hit you hard.

You picked it up carefully, running your thumb over its intricate design. It was beautiful, and for a moment, you felt that familiar pang of nostalgia, of longing. But when you flipped it over, searching for a price tag, you found none. You sighed quietly, already knowing what that meant. You’d only set aside money for books today—not for a locket, no matter how much it tugged at your heart.

Reluctantly, you set it back down, giving it one last wistful glance before turning back to Steve. He’d been watching you, his expression soft, but before he could say anything, Bucky reappeared, his usual grin plastered on his face.

“Sorry about that,” Bucky said, running a hand through his hair. “I saw someone from college.”

You raised an eyebrow, forcing your smile to stay in place. “Oh?”

“Yeah, remember that girl I had the project with in our last year? Kate. That was her,” he said, nodding toward where she’d vanished into the crowd. “Haven’t seen her since graduation. Got her number, though!”

“Cool,” you said, your voice light but not quite steady. Your chest ached, but you buried it quickly. Even the farmer’s market wasn’t safe from heartbreak, it seemed.

Bucky held out his arm again, his smile as warm as ever. “Shall we?”

You nodded, linking your arm with his once more. “Sure,” you said, glancing over at Steve. “You coming with?”

Steve shook his head, a soft smile on his lips. “No, I’m gonna check out one more stand. Meet you guys at the benches for lunch?”

“Sounds good,” Bucky said, steering you back into the crowd. “Don’t take too long, Rogers. Sam’s probably already ordered for everyone.”

Steve waved you off, waiting until you and Bucky were out of sight. Then, he turned back to the vendor, his gaze settling on the locket you’d been admiring.

“I’ll take that locket, please,” Steve said quietly, pulling out his wallet.

[eddiazx]

heat of the moment - eddie diaz x reader

You’re not even sure what the argument was about. 

You had both exchanged words that were hurtful and harsh, intended to rile up the other. The two of you were so caught up in your own respective stubbornness that being nice or communicative weren’t even options.

Regret hits you like a freight train in the middle of the night, when you’re staring at the ceiling in bed alone, tracks of tears drying up on your face. Eddie had taken to the couch, and you could already imagine the position he was in, flat on his back, arms crossed, his tall frame almost spilling out of the blue couch. You make a decision quickly, throw the blankets off of you, and go in search of your boyfriend. 

You find Eddie in the exact position that you imagined. He clearly hadn’t slept either, if his red-rimmed eyes staring at the ceiling were anything to go by. 

He sits up slowly when he sees you enter the living room. He starts to say something, presumably an apology, but you straddle him and kiss him gently, swallowing his words. The two of you can taste each other’s tears as your mouths move in tandem. 

When you break apart for a second to catch your breaths, Eddie rests his forehead against yours, and breathes a gentle, “I’m sorry, baby. I didn’t mean any of that.” 

“I’m sorry, too.” 

Your lips meet again, but this time there is an urgency, an intensity behind the kiss. You tug on Eddie’s shirt to pull it off, and he hooks his fingers into the waistband of your pants. When there’s no fabric separating the two of you, you sink down onto Eddie’s cock. You interlace your fingers with his as you ride him slowly, murmuring apologies to each other the whole time. 

The two of you come together and finally fall sound asleep with Eddie still inside you, bodies and souls intertwined. 

[d-z20]

Heavy Hits, Soft Touches

Pairing: Rio Vidal x Reader

Summary: You meet your rival, Rio Vidal, in the MMA championship ring, both of you determined to prove you're the best. Years of tension and unspoken chemistry finally come to a head in a brutal fight that leaves you both bloodied and bruised. But when the crowd fades and you're left alone in the locker room, you discover that maybe you've been fighting something else all along - OR - You and Rio have it out in the octagon but are flirting the whole time (MMA AU)

Warnings: Blood, descriptions of violence/fighting, hurt (physical), angst, comfort, implied smut

Words: 2.9k

A/N: This fic is based on this request. No smut, but I am more than happy to create a fic that details just how you spent the night wrapped up in each other if literally even one person asks... update someone asked so the smut can be found here

Have a gander over to AO3 | Master List

The locker room is quiet now, the echoes of the cheering crowd fading into the background. You stare at your reflection in the mirror, seeing blood smeared across your cheek, the bruise blossoming under your eye. You press a towel to your split lip, but the sting doesn't bother you as much as it should. Not when your thoughts are still wrapped up in her. In Rio Vidal

Your rival. Your equal. The woman who's been your greatest challenge and your biggest distraction for years now. From the moment you stepped into the MMA circuit, she was there, always one step ahead, always pushing you harder than anyone else. You've faced each other in the octagon before, trading victories in matches that never failed to make headlines. The press loved to play up your rivalry, spinning stories about how much you hated each other. But the truth? You didn't hate her. You respected her. Maybe a little too much, because with that respect came an attraction you couldn't shake, an unspoken chemistry that lingered every time you met her gaze.

The problem was, Rio knew it too. She knew exactly what kind of effect she had on you, and she wasn't above using it to her advantage.

You had just faced her in a non-title match to drum up excitement for the championship in a few weeks. It might not have been the final tonight, but with the way you both fought, it could as well have been. You could still remember the way she'd looked at you right before the third and final round, her gaze burning into yours, a smirk pulling at her lips as if she knew she had you right where she wanted.

The crowd's cheers had faded into a dull roar in your ears; all you could hear was your own breathing, the pounding of your heart, and her voice cutting through it all.

"Don't look so tense, sweetheart," she drawled, her smirk pulling at the corner of her mouth. "You're not scared of me, are you?"

You glared at her, wiping the sweat from your brow. "In your dreams, Vidal."

She chuckled, low and dark. "Oh, you're always in my dreams."

Before you could respond, she lunged forward, throwing a punch that you barely dodged. The crowd erupted as you countered with a hook to her ribs, but she didn't even flinch. Instead, she grinned, her eyes lighting up with something almost feal. She liked this—you could tell. She liked the challenge, liked the way you pushed back against her.

You exchanged blows, neither of you holding back. Her fists hit like a freight train, and she was relentless, forcing you back against the cage. She pinned you there, her forearm pressed into your throat just hard enough to make it difficult to breathe. Her face was inches from yours, her smirk maddeningly cocky.

"You're not tapping out on me, are you?" She taunted, her breath hot against your ear. "I thought you were tougher than this."

You gritted your teeth, shoving back against her with all your strength. "I'm not tapping out," you snapped, your voice a harsh rasp. "Not to you."

"Good," she purred, leaning in closer. "I'd be disappointed if you did."

You twisted out of her grip, slamming your elbow into her side. She grunted, stumbling back, but she was smiling. It was almost like she was enjoying the pain, like every hit was a game to her. You went at each other harder, trading punches and kicks that left you both bruised and bloodied. You managed to land a brutal uppercut that caused her head to snap back, and for a second, you thought you had her.

But then she was on you again, sweeping your legs out from under you. You had hit the mat hard, the air knocked out of your lungs, and before you could recover, she straddled you, pinning your wrists above your head.

"Gotcha," she breathed, her grin wide and predatory. She was bleeding from a cut above her eyebrow, her lip split, but she had never looked more alive. "Still think you can beat me, sweetheart?"

You struggled under her, but she had you locked down. You could feel the strength in her grip, the way her body pressed against yours, and it had sent a shiver down your spine. You hated how much you had liked that—how much you had liked her like that.

In the end, she won. Barely. A split decision that had the crowd on their feet, the commentators buzzing about how you'd almost had her. Almost. She'd helped you up in a rare moment of sportsmanship, her hand lingering in yours longer than it needed to. "Better luck next time," she'd said, her voice low, challenging you.

You'd stared at her, every muscle in your body screaming in protest, but you'd nodded. Because you knew. The championship title was coming.

-

Tonight was finally the night. The championship fight—the one that would decide it all. The culmination of everything you've worked for, everything you've fought for. Five gruelling rounds, each more brutal than the last. You'd both won this title before, but you'd never faced each other in the finals. It was the match everyone had been waiting for, the one that felt like it was written in the stars. And you were going to fight like it too, like there was nothing outside that cage but the two of you.

The announcer's voice booms through the arena, introducing you both as the crowd roars. You barely hear it; your focus is entirely on her. She looks as fierce as ever, her dark hair tied back, a cocky grin plastered on her face as she rolls her shoulders, shaking out her arms. She knows the cameras are on her, knows the crowd is eating it up, and she loves it.

"You ready for this sweetheart?" She taunts, her voice carrying over the noise. "Wouldn't want you to embarrass yourself in front of everyone."

You smirk, stepping forward into the centre of the octagon. "I'm not the one who should be worried."

The referee goes over the rules, but you're not listening. You're too busy staring her down, feeling the familiar rush of adrenaline as you wait for the bell. It's the longest few seconds of your life, but then it sounds, and you're off.

The first round is brutal. You both go straight for it, no holding back. You know each other's styles too well; there's no feeling-out process here. She throws a quick jab, and you slip to the side, countering with a hook that catches her on the cheek. Her head snaps back, but she barely flinches, her grin widening like she's enjoying it.

"Nice hit," she breathes, ducking under your next punch and driving her knee into your ribs. It knocks the wind out of you, but you don't back down.

You grapple with her, twisting her into the cage. "Save your flirting for later," you grit out.

Her eyes flash, and she shoves you off with surprising strength, spinning you around and slamming you into the mat. She's on top of you in an instant, her hand gripping the back of your neck as she leans down, her breath hot against your ear.

"Why wait?" She purrs.

The bell rings, saving you from whatever comeback you were going to throw at her. The ref separates you, and you both stand, chests heaving, staring each other down with a wild intensity.

The second round starts off even more aggressive than the first, both of you refusing to back down. Your body is already aching, each movement a reminder of the last time you had fought, but you pushed through the pain. You can't afford to show weakness—not to her.

She lands a sharp jab, then a right hook that rattles your skull, forcing you to stumble back. Before you can react, she's on you, driving you into the cage with her full weight. The cold metal digs into your back as her forearm presses into your throat, pinning you just like before. Her face inches from yours, her smirk even cockier now, her eyes dark with something that isn't just competition.

"Déjà vu, sweetheart," she taunts, her voice a low purr. "You looked so pretty the first time I did this. I just couldn't resist doing it again."

Your breath catches, a mix of frustration and something you don't want to admit, burning through you. You shove back against her, trying to twist free, but she's got you trapped, her body flush against yours, holding you there effortlessly.

"Fuck you," you rasp, glaring up at her.

Her grin widens as she leans in closer, her lips brushing the shell of your ear. "Is that a promise?" She whispers.

For a second, you falter, caught off guard by the heat of her words and the way her breath skates over your skin. But then the bell rings, signalling the end of the round, and she pulls back, stepping away with a wink.

The third round is a blur of punches, kicks, and blood. You're both landing hits that would drop anyone else, but not you two. You're too stubborn, too caught up in this unspoken battle between you that goes beyond the championship.

In the fourth round, she gets you in a chokehold. It's tight, and you can feel the pressure building in your head, the edges of your vision starting to darken. The crowd is on their feet, roaring for a finish. You could tap. It would be the smart move. But you don't. You twist, clawing at her arms, and somehow manage to slip out, rolling away just as the bell rings.

You barely make it to your feet, and she's right there, hands on her hips, shaking her head with a grin. "You really don't know when to quit, do you?"

You spit blood onto the mat, grinning back. "Never."

The final round starts, and you both go all in. It's a flurry of strikes, both of you too exhausted for any fancy moves. She lands a solid punch to your jaw, and you stumble back, but as she moves in for the kill, you manage to sweep her legs out from under her. You drop on top of her, pinning her down, your forearm pressed to her collarbone.

For a second, you think you have her. But then she bucks her hips, flipping you onto your back, her body pressing against yours as she traps your arms beneath her knees. The referee moves in close, checking your position, and you realise you can't get out. Not this time.

The ref's voice is distant, calling the end of the fight. Rio just managing to secure victory once again. She pulls back just enough to let you breathe, but she doesn't get off you right away. Instead, she leans down, tilting her head, face inches from yours.

"Looks like I win again," her voice a mocking whisper. "You gonna cry about it?"

You laugh, breathless and bitter. "Fuck you, Rio."

Her grin widens as she leans in even further, her lips brushing your ear. "Maybe later, sweetheart."

She finally lets you up; the crowd's roar fills your ears as she raises her arms in victory. You stand there, chest heaving, staring at her as she soaks in the applause. She glances back at you, a flash of something softer in her eyes before she winks and turns away.

-

You don't see her again until you're both in the locker room, alone for the first time. You're sitting on the bench, wiping blood from your knuckles, when she saunters in. She looks as bad as you do—bruised, beaten, but somehow still infuriatingly cocky.

"Aww, do you need a hand?" She asks, her voice dripping with sarcasm, but there's a glint in her eyes that wasn't there before.

You roll your eyes, but you don't protest when she kneels in front of you, taking your hand in hers and dabbing a wet cloth against your busted knuckles. Her touch is surprisingly gentle, and you look down at her, catching the way her gaze softens as she cleans your wounds.

"You fought well," she admits quietly, not meeting your eyes.

"So did you," you reply, your voice just as soft.

Her hands linger on yours for a moment longer, her fingers tracing over your bruised knuckles like she's memorising the shape of them. It feels so different from the fight—so tender that it sends a shiver down your spine. You can feel the warmth of her hands seeping into your skin, and it's almost comforting. Almost enough to make you forget how brutal you were to each other earlier.

She shifts her focus, moving the cloth to the cut on your brow. You flinch when she presses against it, but she hushes you softly, like she's soothing a frightened animal. "I've got you, sweetheart."

Your breath catches at the endearment. It's the first time she called you that in this way, it feels different—like she's letting down her guard, if only for a second.

She looks up then, and for a moment, the mask slips. There's no smirk, no teasing grin—just Rio, looking at you for the first time. It's raw, and it makes your chest ache in a way the fight never did.

You swallow hard, taking the cloth from her hands. "Your turn," you say softly, gesturing for her to sit. She hesitates, like she's not used to letting someone else take care of her, but she sits down anyway, her expression guarded.

You crouch in front of her, your hands trembling slightly as you clean the cut on her brow. Her eyes flutter shut, and for once, she doesn't have a smart remark or a cocky grin. She's just quiet, letting you work in silence. you can see how exhausted she is now, how the adrenaline is starting to fade and the pain is setting in. You touch her bruised cheek gently, and she winces.

"Sorry," you murmur.

She opens her eyes, meeting your gaze. "Don't be," she says, her voice rough but sincere. "I've had worse."

You roll your eyes but can't help the small smile that tugs at your lips. "Of course you have."

She chuckles, the sound low and husky. "You're good at this," she comments, watching you dab at her split lip with a tenderness she doesn't seem to expect.

"I've had a lot of practice," you reply, trying to keep your voice steady. But it's hard when she's looking at you like that—like she's trying to figure you out, like she's seeing something in you she hasn't before.

You brush her hair back, revealing a small cut near her temple. Your thumb lingers against her skin, and she leans into the touch, just for a second. It's such a small, vulnerable gesture that it almost breaks your heart.

"Rio," you whisper, her name falling from your lips like a confession. You lean in closer, pressing a kiss to her temple, and she closes her eyes, exhaling a shaky breath.

Her hand comes up to rest against your chest, not pushing you away, just holding you there, feeling the beat of your heart under her palm. "You don't have to do this," she mutters, but there's no conviction to her words.

You shake your head, cupping her face in your hands. "Yes, I do."

Her gaze drops to your lips, and you realise just how close you've become, your knees almost touching, her breath warm against your face. You're not sure who moves first, but then her lips are on yours—gentle at first, as if testing the waters, but it quickly turns desperate, hungry. It's like everything you've ever felt for her—all the frustration, the anger, the unspoken longing—boils over in an instant.

She pulls back, her forehead pressed against yours. "Come on," she mutters. "Let's get out of here; my place isn't far."

You nod. standing up on shaky legs. You grab your bag, slinging it over your shoulder as she does the same. Without another word, the two of you leave the locker room together. The ride to her place is quiet, the air thick with anticipation. Every bump in the road sends a jolt of pain through your bruised body, but you barely notice. You're too focused on the way her hand rests on your thigh, a silent promise of what's to come.

When you get to her apartment, she unlocks the door and leads you inside. You both drop your bags by the entrance, and she turns to you, eyes searching your face as if looking for any sign of hesitation. but there's none. You reach for her, pulling her close, and she kisses you again—deeper this time, like she's been starving for it.

You spend the night together, wrapped up in each other, bruises and all. It's not gentle or slow; it's rough and passionate—the kind of release you've both needed for so long. And when it's over, you lie tangled together in her bed, your head on her chest, listening to the steady beat of her heart.

In the quiet, she runs her fingers through your hair, her touch surprisingly soft. "I guess that settles it," she chuckles.

You tilt your head up to look at her, confused. "Settles what?"

She smirks, brushing a thumb over your swollen lip. "Who really won tonight."

-

Read exactly how you spent the night with Rio here (NSFW)

[anarchopuppy]

I feel like we don't talk enough about how the whole "capitalism is a democracy! vote with your dollar!" myth falls apart once you're dealing with a company that doesn't sell directly to individual consumers

Like say you want to boycott Norfolk Southern after the East Palestine disaster. Presumably you're not in the situation where you personally do business directly with Norfolk Southern, so that's not an option. Products don't have stickers telling you what freight company shipped them, two of the same product sitting right next to each other on the same shelf may well have been handled by two different companies and there's no way for you to tell. And in some cases companies like that may have monopolies on transporting certain goods in certain areas, so you couldn't make a different choice even if you knew. How could you possibly say that such a situation is "democratic" and decided on by consumers?

Capitalism enjoyers love to pretend that the whole economy is Tommy trading his apples for Mary's flowers in a mutually beneficial exchange and ignore 99% of the nuance in the economic system they claim to believe in

[tinydefector]

Okay. You've got me invested on the newest installation of Human Effects.

Now I can't stop imagine both Humans and Mechs alike having some sort of Google Form where they click on the Human/Mech they want to fuck and see which is the most desired amongst their respective species.

Now that I think about it, I think there'll be a lot of fighting. And chaos.

But then again, we live for the drama.

Human Effects Lost Records

Wordcount: 1.5k

Warnings: talk of sex, human/alien, pornhunting

Prev

Next

Masterlist

Lab logs

Did I take this as an opportunity to merge Human effects and laboratory logs together into a series yes I did. I'll be working on the human Effects timeline where human Effects 2 is spin-off pieces from the mainline.

_____________________

The Holo, cyber and inter webs had a strange beauty to them. It has given many the ability to communicate with different planets, species, to share culture, laughter, debates, videos And all sorts thanks to the many different satellites floating out in space. Everyone also enjoyed it for the use of downtime the most. Some had taken to enjoying Earth's entertainment platforms such as YouTube, Netflix and many other sights, others fell into more depraved sights such as Reddit, Twitter,Tumblr, Pornhub, interlink, Processed and other sights. 

Commlink: post Humans Aboard BLO freight.

BigBotNoStop: Alright mechs, I come bearing an inquiry. As you may have heard from some of my last posts, the newest additions to our crew are a thriving colony of soft, squishy humans. Word in the taproom is some have taken quite an interest in... extending cultural exchanges, if you catch my drift. Not really my field of experience and was hoping some of Xeno's here might have some input. 

Posted to Sublink: Human and cybertronian relationships?

But I'm curious, are interspecies acts even possible without harm? Their frames seem so fragile. One wrong motion and SPLAT! No more humans. quite a few members of our crew have shown interest in flirting... Thoughts? Suggestions for how to proceed with care- help a mech out!

Blazemech: Yo! You got fleshies on your ship! Fragging jealousy!. Your ship is looking for any dock workers?

TailOrTrails: Oh Primus, are we really having this discussion?? Look, I get the appeal of those soft little flesh bags. Really, I do - different wiring can be so freakin' hot. But there's no way a romp with one of those puny things ends well for them! Even accidentally bumping into a table puts them in the medbay. Think of the mess, One wrong thrust and you've got squish all over your plating.

ISOCLEAN: Just download some holofacing and use your imagination if you're that jonesing for an organic interface. Trust me, it's not worth the risk - or hassle of cleaning up after. sure you can find something from the Human sites on Mechanophilia, slutty Show and shine or Car Washes. Stay shiny and keep those servos to yourself, mechs! Some curiosities are better left to fantasies.

Flyboi69: Don't leave a mech hanging, I want deets!, has anybot here actually gotten friendly with a fleshie before? I'm talking about hands-on experience. We've all gotten curious watching, but has the real thing lived up to the fantasy? 

Pimptheride: Any tips for coaxing one into the berth, or does their tiny size mean you've got to take it slow and gentle? And most importantly... any videos out there of the deed? A mech's gotta do some, ah, research before taking the plunge. Hook a brother up if you've found any good amateur organic-on-mech action out there in the 'net. Gotta see it to believe it. 

ScienceSorcerer: For reasons. Does anyone know if humans have both Spikes and Valves? Or if they have any human anatomy holos or books and such from Earth they are willing to sell for some decent Shanix.  

T-Wrexz: Primus, you mechs are hungrier than fragging scraplets. As far as I know, relations between our kinds are still uncharted territory. Could be amazing, could end badly - who's to say until we try? Personally I'm keeping an optic out, just curious to see what new experiences those squishy aliens can offer us tough metal mechs. 

Bar-rizzla: Oho, look who's swapping tall tales. I've been keeping a close optic on our ships squishy company since they came aboard. And between you and me... I may have an in with their ambassador that could lead to some juicy first-hand intel. Just trying to track down the bot we think they are berthing with. Crews got bets out. Turns out they get just as curious about us big metal hunks as we are them!. The other night, their chat got particularly saucy after a few drinks. Lots of gossip and speculation about which lucky bot one of them might take for a private ride. 

WPHAS-Violation: I may have a certain special "human entertainment" vid I could share. Let's just say the organic in question got quite... friendly with an eager mini-con. You know where to find me if you're brave enough to watch! 

Tapemix54: Oho, mechs - think you've got it bad now? You should've seen some of the real deviants back before the war. When I was still stationed on Petrex, I knew this one smuggler - went by the name Rattler. Sneaky little scraplet, but Primus if he didn't have the wildest stories. Rattler used to run goods across time and space, dodging security at every turn. He'd pop up out of nowhere selling the rarest exotic "pets" to rich senators and other high caste mechs looking for a thrill. I'm talking aliens so bizarre even our data banks had never heard of their kind. But the highest bidder always walked away with a new "plaything" to break in, if you catch my drift. Word was Rattler even had a collection of sentient organics that he'd let special clients "test drive" between runs. Humans were apparently a favourite - their smaller frames could take all sorts of creative handling. Rattler had vids, too, of course, to entice buyers. I saw one once, let's just say "versatile" doesn't begin to cover it. Naturally the vids have all been scrubbed by now. But I bet if you knew where to dig in the deep web or some easily swayable Archivist, you might find traces of Rattler's stash still floating around out there.

 T-Wrexz: Whoa, whoa, slow your intake there tapemix! As much as I love a good far-fetched tale, I gotta call scrap on this one. Humans weren't even around back then, much less roaming the streets of Rodion as black market pets, I'm all for imagining exotic interface scenarios, but let's keep the stories at least somewhat rooted in known history, yeah?. Last I checked it was probably fabricated by Caminus cartels to make their actual goods seem tame. 

A few other mechs agree with T-Wrexz before a few kliks later a new post is put up. 

Post: 

"Old Iacon records saved of the Senator and his human Conjunx”

It's a file collection of holotapes and pictures: "Enjoy these are pre war photos of Senator Shockwave and his Human holding their sparkling" 

There are many holos and videos of the long gone senator smiling with his human perched on his shoulder, in the crystal garden with a young sparkling held in the human's arms. Videos of the sparkling playing with the two but the last The last holo looks like a family portrait with Shockwave’s frame in a lime green blue white paint with gold accessories,  his human lover is dressed in elegant robes and the small blue praxian sparkling held in their arms. Each holo is dated with the Iacon records seal of authentication. 

FlyBoi69: NO FREAKIN' WAY. Is this real?! *downloads files faster than Blurr* FRAG ME SIDEWAYS, I think I just popped a gasket! How in the PIT did you manage to dig up the holos of senator Shockwave, most of his speeches, debates and lectures were wiped. Where did you find this! 

Jackin0: of all mechs, with an actual human back in the Golden Age?!. I'm calling scrap on this being real. It's gotta be a flawless deepfake. By PRIMUS if true - to think ol' Shockers was living it up with a squishy. Maybe there's more to those Senatorial types than meets the optic...

T-Wrexz: Okay, I'll bite... but someone better explain to me RIGHT NOW how any of this computes! Last I checked, time travel and inter-species relationships were the stuff of erotic imagination, not legitimate pre-war archives. Tapemix, you better start talking. Where in the PIT did you source these files? How do we know they're authentic and not just an incredibly convincing parlour trick? Because if I'm gonna let these images ruin me, I wanna be ruined by the real deal! Spill it, mech. 

Iacon-Records: Tapemix54 could i please request where you discovered these as i work with Iacon records and this here is history that needs to be preserved. I'm willing to talk with you through a contractor if you would be willing for us to add these back into the new hall of records. Cybertron has lost so much and to find something like this I ask that we find a way to preserve it.  

BigBotNoStop: Pit take me now... I think I may have to reassess everything I thought I knew about interface and partnerships. That human is holding a sparkling curled around them - frag if it isn't the most beautiful thing I've ever seen! If anything could make me believe in miracles, it's this! Tapemix, you glorious glitch - how can I ever repay such an enlightening gift?

Tapemix54: These were filed only cycles after Shockwaves Emputra; they were added to the Iacon records by some Archivist under the title. 'I will Remember you for who you were'. This was right when the senate fell apart on the brink of the war. From my knowledge of information on Rattler he apparently had an outlier who he got to take them to different times since he was a shuttle made it easier to transport. That's from the  records that still exist at least. I'll take you up on that offer Iacon-records. 

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[writers-potion]

I'm writing a sci-fi story about a space freight hauler with a heavy focus on the economy. Any tips for writing a complex fictional economy and all of it's intricacies and inner-workings?

Constructing a Fictional Economy

The economy is all about: How is the limited financial/natural/human resources distributed between various parties?

So, the most important question you should be able to answer are:

Who are the "have"s and "have-not"s?

What's "expensive" and what's "commonplace"?

What are the rules(laws, taxes, trade) of this game?

Building Blocks of the Economic System

Type of economic system. Even if your fictional economy is made up, it will need to be based on the existing systems: capitalism, socialism, mixed economies, feudalism, barter, etc.

Currency and monetary systems: the currency can be in various forms like gols, silver, digital, fiat, other commodity, etc. Estalish a central bank (or equivalent) responsible for monetary policy

Exchange rates

Inflation

Domestic and International trade: Trade policies and treaties. Transportation, communication infrastructure

Labour and employment: labor force trends, employment opportunities, workers rights. Consider the role of education, training and skill development in the labour market

The government's role: Fiscal policy(tax rate?), market regulation, social welfare, pension plans, etc.

Impact of Technology: Examine the role of tech in productivity, automation and job displacement. How does the digital economy and e-commerce shape the world?

Economic history: what are some historical events (like The Great Depresion and the 2008 Housing Crisis) that left lasting impacts on the psychologial workings of your economy?

For a comprehensive economic system, you'll need to consider ideally all of the above. However, depending on the characteristics of your country, you will need to concentrate on some more than others. i.e. a country heavily dependent on exports will care a lot more about the exchange rate and how to keep it stable.

For Fantasy Economies:

Social status: The haves and have-nots in fantasy world will be much more clear-cut, often with little room for movement up and down the socioeconoic ladder.

Scaricity. What is a resource that is hard to come by?

Geographical Characteristics: The setting will play a huge role in deciding what your country has and doesn't. Mountains and seas will determine time and cost of trade. Climatic conditions will determine shelf life of food items.

Impact of Magic: Magic can determine the cost of obtaining certain commodities. How does teleportation magic impact trade?

For Sci-Fi Economies Related to Space Exploration

Thankfully, space exploitation is slowly becoming a reality, we can now identify the factors we'll need to consider:

Economics of space waste: How large is the space waste problem? Is it recycled or resold? Any regulations about disposing of space wste?

New Energy: Is there any new clean energy? Is energy scarce?

Investors: Who/which country are the giants of space travel?

Ownership: Who "owns" space? How do you draw the borders between territories in space?

New class of workers: How are people working in space treated? Skilled or unskilled?

Relationship between space and Earth: Are resources mined in space and brought back to Earth, or is there a plan to live in space permanently?

What are some new professional niches?

What's the military implication of space exploitation? What new weapons, networks and spying techniques?

Also, consider:

Impact of space travel on food security, gender equality, racial equality

Impact of space travel on education.

Impact of space travel on the entertainment industry. Perhaps shooting monters in space isn't just a virtual thing anymore?

What are some indsutries that decline due to space travel?

I suggest reading up the Economic Impact Report from NASA, and futuristic reports from business consultants like McKinsey.

If space exploitation is a relatiely new technology that not everyone has access to, the workings of the economy will be skewed to benefit large investors and tech giants. As more regulations appear and prices go down, it will be further be integrated into the various industries, eventually becoming a new style of living.

[thebibliophilevigilante]

When it comes to getting intel, there are several ways to go about it. One could ask politely, or ask the right questions to eventually draw information from their target. There is intimidation, threatening your target and demanding the information in exchange for remaining unharmed. Then there is incognito surveillance, appearing inconspicuous and melding in with one’s environment just listening and watching.

The current session was the latter.

A raven-haired man with a blanched tuft in his bangs kept his teal eyes trained on the book in his massive, calloused right hand. His left swirled his take-away cup absentmindedly. He was reading words, but they weren’t registering in his brain. His focus was more concentrated on the conversations around him, and what information he could gather before his next patrol.

The first three rules of real estate are location, location, location. Burnley Brewhouse definitely had that, especially for Jason Todd. It was conveniently placed right on the very edge of Burnley, practically at the juncture of where Crime Alley and The Bowery neighborhoods started (which were all Jason’s domain). By day, the neighborhood was full of regular citizens, students and tourists. By night, the whole area was crawling with denizens of the dark wheeling and dealing for their own personal gain and vices while putting others at risk.

Jason brought his cup to his mouth for a sip, his eyes flicking to the counter where two men with heavier builds were waiting for their order. One had a rough 5 o’clock shadow, the other a scraggly, unkempt blond beard, both wearing holy jeans and beat-up leather jackets. He recalled seeing them once during a patrol a couple of weeks prior, skulking around by the Freight Yards. They were definitely up to no good then, and could offer him decent information in the present. The barista handed both of them a take-away cup, and his eyes quickly glanced down to his book again, his peripherals watching as they meandered around to sit at a table caddy-corner from his in the back corner of the shop.

“Terry was telling me about that new candy order he has coming in,” 5 O’Clock muttered lowly to his friend. “Said it should get here overnight, and we can distribute to the stores first thing in the morning.”

Scraggles ran his nails over his beard as he listened. “Loaded with sugar? Y’know these kids can’t get enough of their sugar.”

“He said it was everything needed from the inventory list. He said he has his pal Molly coming in to help with the shipment too.”

There was a small pause before, “How many donuts did he get and where from?”

“11 for the crew. I think he said they’re from Declan’s over on 14th Street.”

Jason had to refrain from rolling his eyes. Those two idiots were blatantly discussing a drug drop in broad daylight just as if they were talking about a regular candy store shipment.

He switched the book to his right hand as he snagged a napkin from the holder and a pen from the table. He scribbled a note to himself, writing the characters’ names from his book, followed by “PG 11, DL 14.” He knew his own shorthand; the character names were to keep up appearances. “PG 11” would remind him the drop was scheduled for 11, and “DL 14” would remind him the ship would be at Dock Bay 14.

His attention went back to his book as he brought the pen to his lips, teeth nibbling on the retractable plunge as he appeared deep in thought. He was about to tune back into 5 O’Clock and Scraggly’s conversation when the cafe’s entry bell rung.

His eyes flitted to the door to assess the entrant, and he froze. A young brunette with piercing dark eyes was glancing around, looking for a place to perch herself no doubt. She was breathtaking, and certainly unlike any other person he had seen come in to Burnley’s. As she turned to the counter, he couldn’t help the large grin that danced over his face. First he got lucky with the tip-off. Would he be lucky enough for that gorgeous girl to sit anywhere within his vicinity?

@rpwiththelilflower

[libingan]

i love having big strong men groveling at my feet. this was supposed to be about price getting pegged by his partner for the first time, but i literally stopped halfway thru writing just to start this bc it came into my mind

the base was alive with laughter and chatter as the evening settled in. soldiers were in high spirits, drinks flowing freely, and the camaraderie was palpable. you sat beside könig, feeling the warmth of the room and the comforting presence of his massive frame next to you.

“jesus, könig, i don’t know how you fit through doors, let alone fit in bed with someone,” one of the soldiers joked, nudging you with a grin. “you must be ruining him, huh?”

another soldier laughed, clapping könig on the back. “yeah, mate. must be like a goddamn freight train.”

you and könig exchanged a knowing glance, both of you chuckling at the insinuation. könig’s cheeks reddened slightly, but he played along, his eyes twinkling with amusement.

“oh, you have no idea,” you replied with a smirk, causing the others to burst into laughter. könig’s hand found yours under the table, giving it a reassuring squeeze. the night continued with more jokes and stories, everyone enjoying the break from the usual tension of their missions.

as the evening wound down and the others began to disperse, you and könig made your way back to his quarters. the moment the door closed behind you, the atmosphere shifted. könig looked at you with a mix of anticipation and nervousness, his massive frame suddenly seeming almost vulnerable.

“they have no idea what really happens, do they?” you teased, stepping closer to him.

“nein,” he replied softly, his voice tinged with that familiar mix of excitement and apprehension. “they don’t know how weak i get for you.”

you smiled, reaching up to cup his cheek. “big, strong könig, brought to his knees by someone so much smaller,” you murmured, your hand trailing down his chest. “let’s show them how things really are, shall we?”

könig shivered at your touch, his breath hitching. “please,” he whispered, his eyes wide with desire.

you guided him to the bed, his towering frame dwarfing the furniture. with a firm push, you had him on all fours, his massive body trembling with anticipation. you took your time, preparing yourself and him, ensuring everything was just right.

“look at you,” you said, your voice dripping with teasing affection. “so big, yet so weak for me.”

könig whimpered, his head hanging low. “yes,” he gasped. “only for you.”

you retrieved a bottle of lube from the bedside table, applying a generous amount to your fingers. gently, you pressed a slick finger against his entrance, circling slowly before easing in. könig let out a low moan, his muscles tensing before relaxing under your touch.

“fuck, you’re so tight,” you groaned, adding a second finger and scissoring them to stretch him. könig’s moans grew louder, his body trembling with need. “so perfect.”

you continued to work him open, adding a third finger and moving in a steady rhythm. könig’s responses were a symphony of whimpers and moans, his body moving in rhythm with yours. you started slow, but it wasn’t long before you increased your pace, preparing him with a firm yet gentle touch.

“so big, but so fucking weak,” you teased, your hands roaming over his back, his shoulders. “look at you, könig. whimpering like a needy little thing.”

“please,” he begged, his voice breaking with the intensity of his need. “don’t stop.”

you didn’t. you continued to prep him until he was a quivering mess, then pulled your fingers out and slicked yourself up. positioning yourself behind him, you guided your cock to his entrance, pushing in slowly. könig’s breath hitched, and he let out a loud, needy moan as you filled him.

“fuck, könig,” you groaned, feeling his tight heat envelop you. “so fucking perfect.”

könig’s responses were a symphony of whimpers and moans, his body moving in rhythm with yours. you started slow, letting him adjust to the stretch, but it wasn’t long before you increased your pace, fucking into him with reckless abandon. each thrust elicited a new sound from him, his voice growing louder and more desperate.

“so big, but so fucking weak,” you teased, your hands gripping his hips firmly. “look at you, könig. whimpering like a needy little thing.”

“please,” he begged, his voice breaking with the intensity of his need. “don’t stop.”

“louder,” you demanded, thrusting harder. “i want everyone to know who’s really in charge here. let them hear who’s ruining who.”

könig’s moans grew even louder, his cries echoing through the room. “fuck, yes! please, more!” he wailed, his voice raw with need.

“that’s it,” you growled, pounding into him with unrelenting force. “let them know how much you need this.”

könig’s whines and cries filled the room, his body shaking with pleasure. you could feel him getting closer, his muscles tightening, his breathing erratic.

just as he seemed on the brink of release, you pulled out halfway, earning a desperate whimper from him. “w-what…?” he gasped, looking back at you with wide, pleading eyes.

“i’m not done with you yet,” you said with a smirk, grabbing his hips and flipping him onto his back. könig landed with a soft thud, his legs instinctively spreading as you positioned yourself between them. “let’s see how you handle this.”

you lifted his legs, pushing them up to his chest, exposing his entrance once more. könig’s breath hitched, his eyes full of anticipation and need. with a firm grip on his thighs, you lined yourself up and pushed back into him, earning a loud, guttural moan from the giant beneath you.

“fuck, könig,” you groaned, feeling his tightness envelop you again. “you’re so fucking hot like this.”

könig’s hands gripped the sheets, his knuckles white with tension. “please,” he begged, his voice high and desperate. “please, i need it.”

“need what?” you taunted, thrusting into him with a slow, deliberate motion. “tell me what you need, könig.”

“i need you,” he whined, his body arching towards you. “fuck me, please. harder.”

you complied, increasing your pace and pounding into him with renewed vigor. könig’s cries grew louder, his body trembling with each thrust. “so fucking big,” you growled, “but so fucking weak for me. look at you, könig. taking it like a good boy.”

“yes,” könig moaned, his voice breaking. “only for you. only you.”

you continued to thrust into him, your movements relentless and precise. könig’s whines and cries filled the room, a symphony of pure need and pleasure. you could feel him getting closer again, his body tensing, his breathing erratic.

“come for me, könig,” you ordered, your voice firm. “show me how much you need this.”

with a final, desperate cry, könig did just that, his release hitting him with the force of a tidal wave. his entire body convulsed, his moans loud and unrestrained. you continued to move, drawing out his pleasure until he was utterly spent, collapsing onto the bed in a trembling heap.

you leaned over him, pressing a gentle kiss to his shoulder. “such a good boy,” you whispered, your voice soft with affection. “always so good for me.”

könig turned his head to look at you, his eyes filled with a mix of exhaustion and adoration. “only for you,” he murmured, his voice barely audible.

you smiled, your heart swelling with love for the man before you. “only for me,” you agreed, wrapping your arms around him, holding him close as the intensity of the moment began to fade. together, you lay there, basking in the afterglow, the bond between you stronger than ever.

[xthejazzdalorianx]

Chapter One ~ Fragile

Pairing(s): Logan (the Wolverine) Howlett x Non-Mutant!Female!Reader, Uncle!Wade (Deadpool) Wilson x Non-Mutant!Female!Reader

Warning(s): This story explores grief, personal trauma, and mature themes with strong language. It addresses loss, childbirth, and includes elements of chaos and irreverent humor, blending serious and unconventional situations.

Author’s Notes: Hello everyone, thanks for joining me on my first fan fiction. I hope you enjoy it! If you'd like more and want to support future updates, please like, follow, and share. Note: This story features a slow-burn romance with mature content in later chapters. Your feedback is appreciated! :)

Word Count: 4,079

When you first met Logan Howlett, it was at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. You were just starting to find your footing there, and he was the first person who reached out with genuine warmth. He was charming but with a temper that could flare up out of nowhere. Yet somehow, you always managed to be the calm in his storm.

Over the years, your friendship deepened, and you never imagined that anyone could balance you so perfectly. But there was that summer. That unforgettable summer when everything changed.

The memory of your first kiss is etched in your mind like a cherished, worn-out record that never seems to lose its magic. It was one of those moments that felt so right. It was almost like the universe was aligning just for the two of you.

It happened under a dark blue sky with stars twinkling above. You were heartbroken, having just lost both of your grandparents.

The grief was overwhelming, and you found solace in Logan’s arms. He held you close, his embrace a quiet sanctuary in that flower garden.

Time seemed to stretch on as he kept you safe and warm. When you finally looked up, your tear-streaked face met his gaze. His blue eyes were full of an unspoken understanding and a love that had always been there, just beneath the surface.

In that moment, you knew that he was more than your best friend—he was the one who had always been meant to be by your side. And even now, as you look back, you realize that he will be with you, come what may, until the end of time.

After that night under the stars, you and Logan fell into a passionate whirlwind. Every spare moment seemed to be an excuse for a touch, a kiss, or something more. It was intoxicating, and you couldn’t get enough of him. Whether it was infatuation or something deeper, you didn’t care. All that mattered was him.

But then, things started to change. The fiery passion that once brought you together now seemed to drive you apart. Arguments became more frequent, and what had been tender moments turned into heated exchanges. It was rough, and you tried to hold onto the love you once shared, hoping it would carry you through the storm.

Then came that final, shattering night. Logan's confession hit you like a freight train—he was in love with someone else, and to him, you were nothing more than a temporary distraction. He admitted that you were just a plaything until the other person was ready to have him back. Those words pierced your heart, leaving it in a thousand jagged pieces.

In the months that followed, you tried to pick up those pieces to mend your broken heart. Yet, no matter how hard you tried, it always seemed to lead back to him. The echoes of what you once had lingered, and despite the pain, a part of you remained irrevocably tied to him.

After that devastating night, you knew you needed to make a clean break. Packing up your bags and leaving Xavier’s school felt like the only way to escape the memories that were suffocating you.

Thankfully, there was a sliver of hope in the form of Wade Wilson. You’d met him a few times during your summer with Logan, and while Wade could be… well, let’s just say, interesting, he offered a glimmer of an escape.

Wade, ever the unconventional friend, extended an invitation to stay with him and his roommate, Blind Al. It wasn’t exactly a typical offer of refuge, but at that point, you were ready for anything that wasn’t a reminder of the life you’d left behind.

So, with a mix of uncertainty and relief, you packed up your life and headed to Wade’s place. It was a far cry from the familiar halls of the school, but maybe, just maybe, it was the fresh start you needed.

As autumn began to settle in, the days grew cooler, and the leaves started to drift from the trees. The heat that had once made you grumpy was replaced by a more manageable chill. You found a rhythm in your new life: cooking, cleaning, working a regular job, and occasionally joining Wade on one of his unpredictable missions.

It was a shift from the life you’d left behind, but it offered a sense of normalcy, or at least as much normalcy as Wade Wilson could provide. A few weeks into your new routine, though, you started feeling nauseous.

You chalked it up to the dust and the not-so-gourmet meals you’d been enduring. But one evening, as you were leaning over the bathroom sink, clutching the porcelain in an attempt to steady yourself, Wade burst through the door. He didn’t bother with subtlety.

“Whoa, whoa, whoa! Is this a new, avant-garde method of redecorating the bathroom? Because I gotta say, it’s not exactly my style,” he quipped, trying to lighten the mood despite the grim situation.

As you retched again, he gently held your hair back and yanked off his mask with an exaggerated flourish.

“Alright, buttercup, let’s not pretend this is just a case of the chimichangas playing hard to get. What’s going on?”

You could barely manage to speak through the waves of nausea, but you forced out, “Wade… I need you to get me a pregnancy test. Now.”

Wade’s usual bravado faltered for a moment. His eyes widened with genuine concern, and he gave you a tender, almost clumsy pat on the back.

“Pregnancy test? On it! And don’t you worry, I’ll be back faster than you can say ‘regret eating that last taco.’”

He carefully tucked your hair back, making sure it stayed out of your face, and darted out the door, leaving you alone in the bathroom. Within ten minutes, he returned, juggling a trio of pregnancy test boxes like they were prizes at a carnival.

“I wasn’t sure which brand to get, so I figured, why not all of them? It’s like a sampler platter of pee sticks!” he announced with his usual flair. You thanked him, feeling a mix of relief and embarrassment, as he settled down beside you on the bathroom floor.

He rubbed your back with a surprisingly gentle touch and asked, “So, do you really think it’s Logan’s kid? I mean, I don’t wanna be the bearer of bad news, but that guy’s as stable as a Jenga tower in an earthquake.”

He flashed you a concerned look, trying to add a touch of humor to lighten the mood. You managed a quiet laugh, finding a moment of solace in his attempt to distract you from the stress.

Once you felt a bit better, you asked Wade to step out of the restroom so you could take the pregnancy test.

“Hey, Wade, could you give me a moment alone?” you said, trying to sound as calm as possible. Wade’s face fell a little, but he nodded, rising to his feet.

“Sure thing, I’ll just be out here, nervously pacing and pretending I don’t need a drink,” he said with a forced grin.

He exited the bathroom, and you shut the door behind him, the click of the latch echoing in the stillness as you turned your attention back to the test.

You flushed the toilet and opened one of the pregnancy tests. The instructions seemed like they were written in a different language. Positive was a plus sign and a line, negative was a minus sign and a line. You sighed, taking a seat on the toilet, and mentally prepared yourself.

“I love Logan so much,” you whispered to yourself, “but you’re never really ready for something like this.”

Wade was pacing back and forth in the living room, his usual energy now tinged with worry.

“Hey, are you almost done there? I’d make a joke about pregnancy cravings, but I’m too nervous to be funny right now!” he called out, his voice a mix of anxiety and levity.

You called back, trying to keep calm, “Yeah, just give me a second, okay? It says to wait three minutes and leave it on the counter to make sure the results are accurate.”

Wade hummed in acknowledgment, continuing his restless pacing until Blind Al emerged from her room, rubbing her eyes and looking around with mild irritation.

“What’s all this racket? I don’t get enough sleep as it is,” she grumbled, clearly disturbed by the commotion.

He shot her a sheepish grin. “Oh, nothing much, Al. Just a little, uh, life-changing test-taking party. Don’t worry, it’s not a mutant emergency—just a personal one.”

Al sighed, shaking her head with a knowing look. “Well, whatever it is, just keep it down. Some of us still need to dream about better things than pee sticks and existential crises.”

You apologized to Althea, feeling a pang of guilt for the disturbance, and then finished peeing on the stick, carefully capping it before setting it on the flat counter.

“Three minutes and I will know. Three minutes,” you whispered to yourself, trying to steady your racing heart.

Tears threatened to spill, and you weren’t sure if they were from joy or sadness—or maybe a mix of both. You cleaned yourself up, flushed the toilet once more, and washed your hands.

As you gazed into the mirror, you turned to the side and placed a hand on your stomach, lost in thought. You tried to picture what life would be like with Logan by your side, but the fantasy felt painfully distant. You gave yourself a sad smile in the mirror, the reflection a stark reminder of the uncertainty and longing that had become a part of your reality.

Althea, clearly exasperated, went back to her shared bedroom. She tried to slam the door, but it only shut slowly with a soft thud.

“Okay, Wade, I don’t think I can handle looking at the test,” you called out from the bathroom. “Can you please do it for me?”

You opened the door so Wade could come in. “The instructions say if the first circle has a positive sign, even if it’s faint, I am pregnant. If it doesn’t, it’s negative. Got it?”

Wade nodded, his face a mixture of determination and curiosity. You stepped out of the bathroom and sank onto the living room couch, the nerves gnawing at you as you waited.

Wade Wilson, ever the showman, was practically vibrating with excitement as he examined the pregnancy test. The positive result was faint, but it was there, and it made his eyes widen with a mix of disbelief and joy.

He tried to keep his expression casual as he walked out of the bathroom, but the excitement was clear in the way he barely contained his grin. He plopped down next to you on the couch, his face a mask of controlled eagerness.

You turned to him, confusion etched across your features. “What’s going on?” you asked, searching his face for answers.

Wade’s grin broke wide open, his eyes dancing with happiness. “You’re pregnant,” he said, his voice almost trembling with emotion.

The words hung in the air between you, filled with a kind of awe that seemed to make the moment almost surreal.

He pulled you into a tight embrace, his excitement spilling over in the warmth of his hug. You wrapped your arms around him, letting the reality of the news settle in. A baby. In this chaotic little apartment. The thought was overwhelming, and you couldn’t help but think about all the adjustments that would need to be made.

As you pulled away, the tears you had been holding back finally broke free. The loss of Logan was still fresh, and the idea of having a piece of him in this new life was both comforting and heart-wrenching. You missed him so much. Was this baby a link to what you had lost or a new beginning?

Wade, noticing your tears, softened his expression. He gently cupped your face with his hands.

“Hey, I know this is a lot. I’m here for you, whatever you need. If you want to talk about Logan or anything else, just let me know.”

You nodded, letting his words sink in. The tears began to ebb, replaced by a tentative hope.

With Him and Althea beside you, maybe, just maybe, you could start to find your way through this whirlwind of emotions and begin to imagine a future that honored both the past and the new life that was unfolding.

The morning light filtered into the apartment as Wade Wilson darted around the kitchen, a whirlwind of energy. With the sun barely up, he was already hard at work, making pancakes, bacon, and eggs with a flair only he could muster.

Surprisingly, Althea accepted the news as she was seated at the table, sipping her coffee and watching him with a bemused expression. Wade, ever the showman, had even managed to stamp his logo onto the pancakes. He looked back over his shoulder, grinning like a kid with a new toy.

“Hey, you know my last three movies were huge hits. Maybe these pancakes will be too! Or at least not poison anyone.”

You tried to smile at his antics, but your mind was still tangled in the whirlwind of the news. The breakfast was surprisingly delicious—Wade’s enthusiasm translated well into his cooking. But the joy was fleeting. Just as you were about to enjoy your meal, a wave of nausea struck, and you hurried to the bathroom.

From the other room, Wade’s voice rang out, full of mock offense.

“Oh, come on, sweet cheeks! I know I’m not Martha Stewart, but my food wasn’t that bad!” He chuckled as if he’d just delivered a brilliant punchline.

Althea shot him a look and smacked him gently on the side of his bald head. “Really, Wade? I’d rather wrestle a chimichanga than listen to your cooking critiques,” she retorted, though her tone was softer. “Thanks for the breakfast, though.”

When you finally emerged from the bathroom, still feeling queasy but slightly better, you collapsed onto the couch.

Your mind churned with questions. “Why now? Why me? Why him? Why us?”

The doubts and uncertainties swirled around, mingling with the raw memory of that final night with Logan.

In a twisted way, it all made sense. That night had been a chaotic whirlwind of heated, passionate sex, driven by a mix of intense desire and unresolved anger. Now, his absence left a deep, aching void. You missed him fiercely and craved his presence, but he was out there with someone else, living a life that didn’t include you.

A few months into your pregnancy, your belly was undeniably prominent, and managing a job to cover rent was becoming increasingly difficult. Climbing the stairs to your apartment felt like an ordeal.

Wade had taken to buying you more clothes, each one carefully chosen to fit your growing belly and keep it discreet. The last thing you wanted was for news to leak and reach Logan. The thought of him finding out filled you with dread—what if he reacted violently? What if he hurt you or the baby? The uncertainty was overwhelming.

Lost in your thoughts, you didn’t even realize you’d arrived at the apartment until Wade’s concerned gaze pulled you back to the present. He was watching you with a mixture of worry and exasperation.

“Welcome back to Earth,” he said with a wry smile. “You doing okay? Don’t tell me this is about that guy with forks for hands.”

His hands were on his hips, his frown reminiscent of a parent scolding a child. You shook your head, too exhausted to engage in conversation. All you wanted was to rest.

Wade, ever the attentive friend, guided you to the couch. He gently massaged your feet, his touch soothing as you drifted into a much-needed sleep. The warmth of his care was a small comfort in the midst of the chaos and uncertainty that surrounded you.

The final stretch of your pregnancy was surprisingly smooth. Your cravings were manageable, and Wade and Althea did their best to make you comfortable. Althea had taken on the task of building a crib for the baby, but her attempt didn’t go as planned.

So, you ended up helping Wade by handing him tools as he wrestled with assembling it. Despite the small size of the apartment, their efforts were heartwarming. You often thanked them, and their response was always a warm hug.

It had been a long time since you felt so loved, surrounded by people who had become like family. You knew your grandparents would have adored this baby, and you felt their love in the support you were receiving now.

Then came the baby shower, thrown by Wade and his quirky X-Force crew. The news that you were expecting a little girl added an extra layer of excitement.

Wade was officially declared the baby’s “uncle,” while Althea was delighted to take on the role of “grandma.” The X-Force team gifted you a range of... interesting items. Colossus, ever the gentle giant, had gifted you an Easy-Bake Oven. Sweet gesture, but not exactly suitable for a newborn.

The baby shower was a lively affair. The room was filled with chatter, laughter, and a spread of desserts decorated with baby onesie designs. The atmosphere was warm and joyful, a testament to the love surrounding your baby.

As you moved through the apartment, chatting with everyone and keeping your hand gently on your belly, each conversation reminded you of the incredible support you had. Gratitude and hope for the future swelled within you, buoyed by the warmth of those around you.

Of course, this wouldn’t be a Deadpool experience without a little unexpected flair. Just as you were savoring the joy of the moment, the apartment lights dimmed, and the door burst open with a dramatic flourish. Wade, dressed in an elaborate superhero costume, complete with a cape and mask, strutted in with a grandiose entrance.

“Ladies and gentlemen,” he announced with exaggerated flair, “prepare yourselves for the most epic surprise of the century!”

Behind him, Althea was maneuvering the custom-made, neon-lit baby carriage into the room. However, since she was blind, she was heading in the wrong direction, veering the carriage awkwardly toward a lamp and nearly colliding with a potted plant.

Wade, trying to hold back his laughter, rushed over and gently placed his hands on Althea’s shoulders.

“Whoa, there! Easy does it, Daredevil. Let’s steer clear of the furniture and save our baby from a potential apocalypse,” he said with a grin, guiding her back on course. “The last thing we need is a baby carriage with battle scars.”

As Althea corrected her path, she gave Wade a playful smack on the arm.

“You know, Wade, if you didn’t have so many grand ideas, I wouldn’t need you as my personal tour guide,” she quipped. “Maybe next time, let’s leave the surprise planning to someone who doesn’t make everything look like a circus.”

The carriage, now properly aligned, rolled into view with its LED lights flashing, a mini sound system playing baby-themed dance beats, and a built-in cooler for drinks. It was an over-the-top spectacle, straight out of a sci-fi movie—classic Deadpool.

The room burst into laughter and applause, and you couldn’t help but smile at the joyful chaos. Despite the unpredictability, it was clear that these moments of absurdity and love were what made being part of this unconventional family so special.

Summer had arrived, and you were nearing the finish line of your pregnancy. In the middle of the night, while you were attempting to sleep on the futon, your water broke. The pain was sharp and relentless, and despite your best efforts to stay calm with slow, steady breaths, you couldn’t help but scream.

Wade burst into the room, his appearance a bizarre mix of urgency and chaos. He was wearing nothing but his mask and boxers, and in his hand was his infamous baby knife. Why? At this moment, you couldn’t care less.

“My water just broke! I need to get to the hospital, NOW!” You shouted through the agony, feeling like you might pass out any second.

Wade’s eyes widened in panic. “Holy chimichangas, it’s go time!” He dashed off to change, calling his friend Dopinder to get a cab over as quickly as possible. “Dopinder, this is not a drill! Get here NOW!”

As Dopinder sped toward your location, Wade yelled to Althea, who was still in bed. “Althea, I’m taking her to the hospital! Don’t miss me!”

Althea merely scowled and mumbled something unintelligible before turning back to her pillow, clearly not up for the middle-of-the-night drama.

Wade hurried back to you, helping you off the futon and carefully sliding your slippers onto your feet. He draped your arm over his shoulder, supporting your weight as you both made your way down the stairs of the apartment building.

At the entrance, Dopinder was waiting, holding the door open with a look of concern. You were breathing heavily, each contraction making the outside air feel like it was blazing with heat.

“Alright, let’s get this show on the road!” Wade exclaimed, trying to stay upbeat despite the urgency.

With Dopinder’s help, you climbed into the cab, ready to face the next chapter of your chaotic yet strangely comforting life.

“Dopinder, if you don’t hit that gas pedal, I swear I’ll make sure you’re never able to drive again!” You screamed, the pain making your grip on Wade’s hand tighter than a vice.

Wade was trying to breathe along with you, attempting to keep you calm, but his efforts weren’t exactly working.

Dopinder, clearly feeling the urgency, slammed on the gas pedal, and they arrived at the hospital in record time. He pulled up to the emergency room entrance, and Wade, in a flurry of action, leaped out of the cab and sprinted to find some nurses.

“Help! We need a wheelchair, like, yesterday!” Wade shouted, waving his arms frantically.

The nurses rushed over, assisting you out of the cab. Wade gave Dopinder a hurried thanks before he sped off.

“You’re the best, Dopinder! Try not to get into any more car chases!”

Wade pushed you into the hospital, maneuvering the wheelchair with all the speed he could muster. You were on the verge of meeting your beautiful baby girl, and the fact that you hadn’t picked a name yet felt like a huge oversight.

The pain was reaching new heights, and the baby was already crowning. The nurses and Wade helped you onto the hospital bed, with the staff scrambling to find a doctor and prep the room for delivery.

Wade flashed a goofy grin and said, “Alright, I’ll be right outside if you need me, okay? Just holler if you need a superhero!” But his playful demeanor was met with your intense look.

You grabbed his wrist with a desperate grip. “No, Wade, I need you here. Please? I’m freaking out.”

Wade’s expression turned serious as he nodded. “Okay, okay, I’m not going anywhere. I’m here for you, kiddo.” He settled into a chair next to your bed, his presence a comforting anchor in the chaos.

Within an hour, you welcomed your beautiful baby girl, Mara Howlett, into the world. The nurse gently placed the tiny bundle into your arms, and you couldn’t help but smile through your tears. It was the most painful yet incredibly beautiful moment of your life.

Wade, practically bursting with excitement, leaned in with his trademark grin and said, “Look at that! We’ve got ourselves a future superhero! And guess what? As her brand-new, totally cool uncle, I’m officially on diaper duty. I hope she’s ready for a lifetime of epic adventures and, of course, Uncle Wade’s questionable life lessons!”

You laughed softly, looking up at Wade with gratitude. “Thank you for being here,” you said, your voice filled with emotion.

At that moment, Mara, your beautiful baby girl, gave her first smile. It was a tiny, precious glimpse into her future, and it melted your heart.

As you looked at her, a thought crossed your mind: hopefully, things won’t get too crazy, and she won’t inherit Logan’s more intense abilities. But if she does, you reassured yourself that Wade would be right there, ready to help and teach her with his usual mix of humor and unconventional wisdom.

[probablyasocialecologist]

Today, we know from the research of Jason Hickel and his colleagues that in 2021 the Global North was able to extract from the Global South 826 billion hours in net appropriated labor. This represents $18.4 trillion measured in Northern wages. Behind this lies the fact that workers in the Global South receive 87–95 percent lower wages for equivalent work at the same skill levels. The same study concluded that the wage gap between the Global North and the Global South was increasing, with wages in the North rising eleven times more than wages in the South between 1995 and 2021. This research into the contemporary global labor arbitrage is coupled with recent historical work by Utsa Patnaik and Prabhat Patnaik that has now documented the astronomical drain of wealth during the period of British colonialism in India. The estimated value of this drain over the period of 1765–1900, cumulated up to 1947 (in 1947 prices) at 5 percent interest, was $1.925 trillion; cumulated up to 2020, it amounts to $64.82 trillion. It should be emphasized that the Global North’s contemporary drain of economic surplus from the Global South, via the unequal exchange of labor embodied in exports from the latter, is in addition to the normal net flow of capital from developing to developed countries recorded in national accounts. This includes the balance on merchandise trade (import and exports), net payments to foreign investors and banks, payments for freight and insurance, and a wide array of other payments made to foreign capital such as for royalties and patents. According to the United Nations Conference on Trade and Development (UNCTAD), the net financial resource transfers from developing countries to developed countries in 2017 alone amounted to $496 billion. In neoclassical economics, this is known as the paradox of the reverse flow of capital, or of capital flowing uphill, which it ineffectively tries to explain away by various contingent factors, rather than acknowledging the reality of economic imperialism. With respect to the geopolitical dimension of imperialism, the focus this century has been on the continuing decline of U.S. hegemony. Analysis has concentrated on the attempts of Washington, since 1991, backed by London, Berlin, Paris, and Tokyo, to reverse this. The goal is to establish the triad of the United States, Europe, and Japan—with Washington preeminent—as the unipolar global power through a more “naked imperialism.” This counterrevolutionary dynamic eventually led to the present New Cold War. Yet, despite all of the developments in imperialism theory over the last century, it is not the theory of imperialism so much as the actual intensification of the Global North’s exploitation of the Global South, coupled with the resistance of the latter, that has stood out. As Sweezy argued in Modern Capitalism and Other Essays in 1972, the sharp point of proletarian resistance decisively shifted in the twentieth century from the Global North to the Global South. Nearly all revolutions since 1917 have taken place in the periphery of the world capitalist system and have been revolutions against imperialism. The vast majority of these revolutions have occurred under the auspices of Marxism. All have been subjected to counterrevolutionary actions by the great imperial powers. The United States alone has intervened militarily abroad hundreds of times since the Second World War, primarily in the Global South, resulting in the deaths of millions. In the late twentieth and early twenty-first centuries, the primary contradictions of capitalism have been those of imperialism and class.

3 November 2024

[starsenha]

[4] TEACHER'S PET - this is awkward

synopsis: before your junior year of uni started, you and your friends decided to go to the club. who would've thought that the guy you hooked up with ended up being your new business management professor. wc: 1,3k

You walked into the large lecture hall, flanked by Suyeon and Hanni, the three of you juggling oversized iced coffees and barely-contained excitement. It was the second day of your senior year of college, and while you were far from morning people, the prospect of gossip—and caffeine—had perked you up.

“I heard the new professor for this class is hot,” Hanni said, taking a long sip from her iced latte. “Like, model who accidentally became an academic hot.”

You smirked. “Where do you even hear this stuff?”

“Twitter,” Hanni said confidently. “There’s a Decelis University thread where people post gossip about professors. Professor Park is apparently fresh meat.”

Suyeon raised an eyebrow, her lips curving into a smile. “Fresh meat? Hanni, we’re supposed to be professional businesswomen in training.”

Hanni rolled her eyes. “Professional businesswomen deserve eye candy too. Let me have this.”

You laughed as you climbed the stairs of the lecture hall, picking seats near the middle. The room was already buzzing with students, and everyone was murmuring about the new professor no one had seen yet. You set your coffees down and pulled out your laptops.

“Honestly,” Suyeon said, flipping her hair over her shoulder, “if he’s even half as hot as twitter says, this might actually make business management bearable.”

You snorted. “Hot professor or not, this class is going to be brutal. It’s, like, one of the most important courses for our major.”

Hanni waved her hand dismissively. “Yeah, yeah. But if we’re suffering, at least we’ll have something nice to look at.”

Before you could respond, the sound of the door closing silenced the room. Everyone turned to the front, and you froze the moment you saw him.

Walking confidently to the podium was none other than Jay. Jay, the same guy you had slept with at the club. He was dressed in a sharp blazer and crisp shirt, his hair perfectly styled, and his expression professional—until his eyes flickered to you.

Your jaw dropped, your heart racing as realization hit you like a freight train. Oh my God.

Next to you, Hanni and Suyeon exchanged wide-eyed glances, both recognizing him immediately.

“Isn’t that—?” Hanni whispered, her voice barely audible.

Suyeon leaned closer to you. “That’s the guy from the club. The one you—”

“I know,” you muttered, your voice a strangled whisper. “Shut up.”

At the front of the room, Jay’s eyes locked on you for a brief moment, his expression shifting from professional calm to brief, unmistakable shock. He quickly cleared his throat and looked away, his jaw tightening as he adjusted his papers on the podium.

“Good morning, everyone,” Jay began, his voice steady but slightly strained. “Welcome to Business Management. My name is Professor Park, and I’ll be your instructor for this course.”

You slouched in her chair, trying to make yourself invisible. “This is so awkward,” you hissed to Hanni and Suyeon, who were barely holding back their laughter.

“You think?” Hanni whispered, biting her lip to keep from giggling. “This is hilarious.”

“He looks like he wants to evaporate,” Suyeon added, her voice low. “And honestly? Same.”

Jay continued his introduction, his voice gradually regaining confidence, but he kept stealing glances at you as if he couldn’t believe you, of all people, were sitting there, the girl he hadn't stopped thinking about since that night at the club. You caught one of those glances and quickly looked away, your cheeks burning.

“This course is designed to challenge you,” Jay said, pacing slightly. “It’s not going to be easy, but I promise, if you put in the effort, you’ll come out of it with valuable skills.”

“Like how to avoid sleeping with your students?” Hanni whispered under her breath, earning a sharp elbow from you.

“Stop,” you hissed, glaring at your friend, though your lips twitched in reluctant amusement.

Jay’s eyes flickered to them again, and you swore you saw a hint of color rising in his cheeks before he looked back at his notes.

As he continued outlining the syllabus, you leaned toward Hanni and Suyeon, your voice low. “What are the odds this semester kills me from sheer embarrassment?”

Hanni smirked. “High. Very high.”

----------------------

The class was finally finished. Thank god. You packed your things quickly, hoping to slip out of the lecture hall unnoticed. The entire class had been a masterclass in awkwardness—Jay stealing glances, your friends giggling like maniacs.

You were almost at the door, just steps away from freedom, when you heard his voice.

“Yn.”

Your entire body froze, and you winced as if physically struck. You turned slowly, your face carefully neutral, though your heart raced.

“Yes, Professor Park?” you asked, your tone polite but strained.

Jay stood at the podium, his hands resting on its edges. His expression was composed, but the tension in his shoulders betrayed him. He gestured for you to approach, and you sighed, motioning to Hanni and Suyeon.

“Wait for me outside,” you murmured to them.

Hanni grinned, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Good luck,” she whispered before grabbing Suyeon and heading out. You shot her a glare before walking back down toward Jay.

You stopped a few feet from him, crossing your arms defensively. “What’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice casual.

Jay waited until the last student had exited the room, the door clicking shut behind them, leaving you alone with him. He exhaled heavily, running a hand through his hair before speaking.

“This is… awkward,” he admitted, his voice low.

You let out a dry laugh. “You think?”

Jay gave you a sharp look, though his lips quirked slightly. “Look, let’s just address the elephant in the room. What happened between us…” He paused, his voice steady but strained. “It can’t happen again.”

You nodded, leaning casually against one of the desks. “Agreed. I’m not exactly looking to add ‘scandal’ to my college transcript.”

Jay relaxed slightly, though the tension between you still lingered. “Good. So, moving forward, we’ll keep this strictly professional. A professor-student relationship. Nothing more.”

“Strictly professional,” You echoed, nodding. But your lips curved into a teasing smirk as your eyes flicked over him. “Got it.”

Jay caught the look immediately, and his jaw tightened. “Stop looking at me like that.”

“Like what?” You asked innocently, tilting your head.

“Like I’m…” He hesitated, his voice dropping to a whisper. “Like I’m something you want to devour.”

You raised an eyebrow, your smirk growing. “Can’t help it if the truth slips out, Professor.”

Jay groaned, pinching the bridge of his nose as if physically restraining himself. “Yn, I’m serious.”

You shrugged, your posture deliberately casual, though your gaze was anything but. “I’m just saying. You don’t make it easy to stay professional.”

“Neither do you,” Jay shot back, his eyes flickering—despite himself—to the sliver of exposed skin between your cropped top and high-waisted jeans. Your toned stomach caught his attention for a moment too long, and he forced himself to look away, clearing his throat.

“You can’t show up to class dressed like this,” he muttered, his voice tight.

You laughed softly, stepping closer, your confidence radiating. “Last I checked, dress codes don't apply to college students.”

Jay’s eyes darted back to yours, his frustration warring with something far more primal. “You’re not making this easy.”

“I thought we agreed to keep it professional,” you teased, leaning in slightly. “You’re the one breaking your own rules.”

Jay groaned again, his voice low and blunt. “Yn, if you don’t stop looking at me like that, I’m going to lose it.”

Your eyes sparkled with mischief, but you straightened, taking a step back. “Alright, Professor Park,” you said, your voice light and teasing. “Consider me warned.”

Jay exhaled sharply, his gaze softening as he tried to regain his composure. “Just… go. And please, for both our sakes, keep this professional.”

You gave him one last smile, your tone playful as you walked toward the door. “See you next class, Professor.”

As the door closed behind you, Jay let out a frustrated sigh, running a hand through his hair. This semester is going to kill me.

previous / m.list / next

TAGLIST: @jakef3ver @bxcndd @03sunoos @insommni4 @jjhmk @haevvv @hyinneehoon @wildtigerlili @eyesonlybutterflies @right-person-wrong-time @tkooooop @jooniesbears-blog @baedreamverse @kyshhhhhh @sunhyeswife @sumzysworld

[margeoww]

Toto Wolff is in a bad mood and bumps into a girl who spills coffee over him and he goes ballistic on her, only to find her waiting in his office later that day and realising that she is his new assistant. And he apologises and accidentally reveals that he thinks she’s pretty.

Spilled Coffee

back to my main masterlist

toto wolff masterlist

pairing: toto wolff x assistant!reader

summary: Toto Wolff, in a foul mood, bumps into a woman who spills coffee on him. After a heated exchange, he discovers that she’s his new assistant. Unapologetically bold and confident, she challenges Toto in ways he didn’t expect, forcing him to rethink his first impression.

warnings: tense initial interactions, light humor.

Toto Wolff’s day was, in a word, terrible. Meetings had dragged on endlessly, strategy discussions had gone nowhere, and the pressure of an underperforming car was taking its toll. By the time he left the conference room, his patience was running on fumes.

All he wanted was a cup of coffee to pull himself together before tackling the mountain of paperwork waiting in his office. But fate, it seemed, had other plans.

As he rounded the corner of the hallway, he collided with someone moving at an equally brisk pace.

A gasp escaped from the other party, and before Toto could react, a wave of hot coffee splashed across his tailored suit.

—What the hell! —Toto barked, taking a step back, glaring down at the mess. His dark suit was stained, the sticky liquid seeping into the fabric.

—Oh, fantastic. —a voice responded sharply. —This is just what I needed.

Toto’s head snapped up at the tone. He was met with a pair of defiant eyes glaring right back at him. The woman standing before him wasn’t apologizing; in fact, she seemed just as annoyed as he was.

—Excuse me? —Toto said, his tone sharp and cutting. —You just ruined a suit worth more than your monthly salary.

She raised an unimpressed eyebrow, crossing her arms over her chest. —Maybe if you watched where you were going, this wouldn’t have happened. But sure, blame the person holding the coffee instead of the one charging through the hallway like a freight train.

Toto blinked, momentarily stunned by her boldness. Most people would have been tripping over themselves to apologize, but not her.

—Do you even know who I am? —he asked, his voice low and dangerous.

Her lips twitched into a dry smile. —Oh, I know exactly who you are. Toto Wolff, the team principal of Mercedes-AMG Petronas, right? Well, congratulations. Today, you’re also the guy who doesn’t look where he’s going.

Toto’s jaw clenched, his irritation boiling over. —You-

—You’re welcome for the coffee, by the way —she cut him off, brushing past him with a pointed look. —Consider it a wake-up call..

Toto stood there, speechless, as she walked away.

Later That Day

Toto couldn’t shake the incident. As much as he hated to admit it, her sharp wit and unapologetic attitude had left an impression. Most people didn’t dare speak to him that way, and it gnawed at him.

When he finally returned to his office, he hoped to bury himself in work and forget the whole thing. But as he stepped inside, he stopped short.

Sitting at his desk, flipping through a folder, was the same woman from earlier.

She glanced up as the door opened, her expression neutral. —Oh, you’re back.

—What are you doing here? —Toto demanded, his voice laced with irritation.

She closed the folder and stood, offering a polite but firm smile. —I’m your new assistant.

Toto stared at her, his mind racing to catch up. —You’re—what?

—Your assistant —she repeated. —Surprise.

For the first time in a long while, Toto was at a loss for words. —No one informed me of this.

—Well, I was informed —she said, leaning against the desk casually. —And here I am.

He ran a hand through his hair, trying to suppress the wave of embarrassment washing over him. —Look, about earlier—

She held up a hand, cutting him off. —Don’t bother. I’m not fragile, Mr. Wolff. You were rude, I was rude back. Let’s call it even.

Her bluntness caught him off guard again. Most people tiptoed around him, afraid to upset the boss. But she wasn’t afraid, and it was… refreshing.

—I owe you an apology —Toto said after a pause, his tone more measured. —I was out of line.

She studied him for a moment before nodding. —Accepted. Now, are we done with the awkward apologies, or do you have more to add?

Toto almost smiled. Almost. —You’re… direct.

—Is that a problem?

—No. —he said quickly. —It’s… effective.

As she turned back to his desk, her movements fluid and confident, Toto muttered, almost to himself, —You’re quite pretty when you’re not yelling at me.

The words slipped out before he could stop them.

She froze, glancing back at him with a sharp look. —Excuse me?

Toto’s eyes widened slightly, realizing what he’d said. His ears turned red, a rare show of embarrassment for the usually composed team principal. —I- what I meant was—

She tilted her head, arms crossed. —Are you complimenting me, Mr. Wolff?

Toto cleared his throat, struggling to regain his composure. —It was just an observation. A poor choice of words, perhaps.

Her lips twitched into a smirk, her confidence unwavering. —Noted. For the record, you’re a bit easier to deal with when you’re flustered.

Toto blinked, caught off guard again. She was a force to be reckoned with, and he wasn’t sure if he should be annoyed or impressed.

—I’ll keep that in mind. —he said, his voice softer this time.

She turned back to her work, a quiet laugh escaping her. Toto watched her for a moment longer, a small smile tugging at his lips.

Maybe this wasn’t the worst first day after all.

[fanaticsnail]

Red-Hair Masterlist

Navigation Masterlist Here

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Red Haired Shanks:

Dancando Lambada (one-shot)

After your ship crashed just off the coast line of your hometown, your friend: the bride, is left without a Captain to perform her ceremony to unite her with her beau. Fortunately for you, you see a ship coming in off the coastline. Will their captain help you in exchange for a night of good food, fine drink and sensual dancing?

Remember Me (one-shot)

Ten years since the love of his life was claimed by the sea, Shanks finds himself celebrating her memory with many a drink in a fishing village. Spluttering over his amber ale, Benn Beckman pales in freight at the sight of a woman drinking merrily at the bar. But it couldn't be her, she was lost to him.

Where is my bride (Sapsorrow Spin Off Drabble)

Once lost, again found: Shanks has accidentally bcome lockd into a cruel plot to have him marry a woman he has never seen nor heart of. The timer is ticking, the claws of the spectre of a woman scorned tethered to him and awaiting to claim his soul should he fail. He has seven days to wed. But where are you?

Two More Times (one-shot NSFW)

A meet up with a beautiful Captain has you feeling unworthy of being by Shanks' side as his partner. Shanks does not like being ignored - he wants to showcase his pretty girl sat on his knee. He reminds you of your importance to him, while punishing you for behaving like a brat. His brat.

What do I do? (One-Shot) (Not 'x reader')

Drabbles & Headcanons:

Uta is going through a leap week and Shanks is an overwhelmed teenager. He does his best to soothe her, but becomes overwhelmed by the wailing cry of his daughter. He calls the one person he knows has hands on experience with a situation exactly like the one he's found himself in.

Make Me Beautiful (mini One-Shot)

You asked Red Haired Shanks to model for your live drawing practice in an intimate setting. He is behaving about as well as you would assume he would, and cooperating exactly as you'd imagine.

Shanks Likes to Dance HC Drabble

Benn Beckman:

When You Had The Chance (one-shot)

Serving as first mate to the Buggy-Pirates, it was your job to keep your captain grounded and uplifted. When tempers flared, he decided to confront his childhood rival once and for all - pulling out all the stops to finally lay their feud to rest. One of them would be leaving with their life, the other fallen at their feet. Instead of stifling his fury, you decided to elevate your captain’s wrath: seeking vengeance of your own against the man who once cast you aside after you confessed your feelings for him. Crew against crew, Captain against Captain, First-Mate against First-Mate - will you win, or lie at the mercy of the man you once loved.

"Mister Beckman" (one-shot)

The first mate of the Red-Hair pirates is attempting to relax and enjoy his evening with you, but is rudely interrupted by Shanks' tinkering and clanging within the Captain's quarters.

Kind And Gentle (One-Shot)

Your shoulders and back ached with a pain you had attempted to cast aside as you went about your duties. The ache turned excruciating, your focus now being taken hostage between the gripping pain. Fortunately, the grip of two firm hands found your body and eased you through the torment.

You shot a baby? (Dialogue)

Part 2 (one-shot)

Benn Beckman shot Eustass Kid's arm off. You are not happy about it.

Daughter of the Sea (5/5 series)

As a reformed spymistress working for the new title holder of "Worlds Greatest Swordsman," you are prepare for the worst, anticipating every possible outcome. What you did not prepare for was Mihawk's oldest rival presenting you with a sight that had the pair of you perplexed: his latest plunder.

After first meeting years ago, Beckman had longed for you from afar. All those feelings come flooding back to him once he sees the young baby in your arms.

He's in love with you (one-shot)

Benn Beckman can no longer ignore the way he feels about you, and it's eating him alive.