#what is my life what am i doing why am i like this
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tranny freak :)
#Negativity#Transphobia#I don't know what to tell you buddy I'm not sure what your goal is here#I am genuinely so much happier like this#Figuring out that I'm a tranny freak has been the absolute best thing ever#All the loved ones who I've come out to have been so welcoming and supportive#I get to experiment with my appearance like I haven't done since my punk days in highschool#And I've always been a weirdo so freak isn't even hurtful that's been a point of pride for decades#What made you want to hurt a stranger buddy#What are you going through#Are you gonna read this and scoff cause I took a troll sincerely#Why are you so afraid of genuine connection#Why are you scared of people#Are you happy with your life right now#Do you like yourself#How much time do you spend doing this#Do you think the negativity might be getting to you#How much time do you spend feeling repulsed scornful and annoyed towards others that you gotta do something about it#I'm really sorry#I used to be a similar kinda angry and that shit taints everything#Idk man I just hope you can see the joy in things someday#There's so much cool and exciting stuff you can find when you start looking for happiness and good intentions#Kinda sad that you're missing out
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Dick: And what would you do for him?
Contestant 1: I would die for Billion Wayne! I mean—Bruce Wayne!
Jason: Let’s go, you and me, in a real deathmatch. I’m itching for a proper send-off. Guys, remember to play ‘The Final Countdown’ at our funerals. None of that sad shit.
Contestant 1: No wait! Please don’t hurt me!
Jason: Weak! You, why should we consider you?
Contestant 2: I have a nice house, nice car, expensive taste, and I attract others to me like a magnet. You’ll find that I’m well-balanced in all aspects.
Tim: All except for your credit card balance. But I’m sure you already have more than enough admirers in the money-lending business chasing you. Next!
Contestant 3: I can defend Bruce from any kidnapper because I am indestructible!
Damian: The only indestructible thing about you is your ego, and unfortunately that’s also the only thing you’d ever be capable of defending. Next!
Contestant 4: Hi, I’m here for my interview with Mr Wayne. Is this the right room?
Dick: Depends. What are your special skills?
Contestant 4: T-There’s nothing special about me! I’m just an average guy with average skills and an average life! Umm, I can also make a pretty good pie?
Damian: What flavor? Weigh your next words carefully because Father is allergic to bullshit.
Contestant 4: Kansas-style apple pie. I learnt it from my Ma.
Dick: Great, Alfred would approve! What’s your name?
Contestant 4: Clark Kent.
Tim: Well, Clark Kent, you’ve just progressed to the next round of ‘All’s Fair In Love and War – Bruce Wayne Edition’. Congratulations!
#how clark ended up on reality tv#reality tv star bruce#secret identities#dc headcanon#batfam headcanons#batfamily headcanons#incorrect dc quotes#batfam incorrect quotes#batfam shenanigans#dc#dc fanfic#batfic#drabble#text post#superbat#batfam#batfamily#batdad#batboys#superman#batman#clark kent#bruce wayne#nightwing#dick grayson#red hood#jason todd#red robin#robin#damian wayne
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Melting Hearts
pairing: charles leclerc x chocolatier!reader
summary: Ferrari hires a chocolatier to cater for their anniversary celebrations! The chocolate isn’t the only thing to melt
a/n1: Twitter is dead to me. Bluesky forever.
a/n2: all chocolate creations are from the chocolate guy, amaury guichon
a/n3: user 19 and 53 are back 😂
scuderiaferrari
liked by yourusername, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55, and 2,112,134 others
tagged: yourusername, maison_du_chocolat
scuderiaferrari: We’re excited to announce that yourusername from the maison_du_chocolat has accepted our invitation to our anniversary celebration! We can’t wait to see what she makes for us!
view all comments
yourusername: Forza Ferrari Sempre! It was an honor to be chosen and I am excited to have the opportunity to be a part of this monumental event!
↳user1: oh man oh man oh man am I sooooo excited for this!
↳user2: Queen of chocolate!
user3: omg crossover of the century!
↳user4: i literally can’t wait to see what she makes!
↳user3: her creations are INSANE! her imagination…
charles_leclerc: can’t wait! 😊
↳arthur_leclerc: he really really can’t…
↳charles_leclerc: 😑
user5: I haven’t heard of her before but I just looked her up and damn…
↳user6: right?
↳user5: what I wouldn’t give to live in her mind?
↳user7: dude what?
↳user5: not in a creepy way but like how does she even imagine these things??
↳user8: acceptable answer
carlossainz55: Forza Ferrari Sempre! Welcome to the Ferrari family!
↳yourusername: glad to be here!
user9: I just checked her insta and damn…chocolate is not the only thing that’ll be melting
↳user10: keep it classy!
maison_du_chocolat
liked by scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, yourbff, and 1,877,455 others
tagged: scuderiaferrari
maison_du_chocolat: it has long been a dream of mine to go to Italy and visit the Ferrari factory! Now to be able to do that by invitation is an honor! Thank you scuderiaferrari
view all comments
user11: amazing!
user12: oh I can’t wait!
user13: cars? I have to care about cars now??
↳user14: I kkkknnnnoooooowww. Like mother why?
↳user13: vroom vroom I guess
charles_leclerc: it's our pleasure to have you!
↳user19: 👀👀
↳maison_du_chocolat: thank you! 😊
↳user19: 👀👀
↳user53: seriously? What now
↳user19: nothing nothing nothing
carlossainz55: again! Welcome to the family!
↳maison_du_chocolat: love to be here
yourbff: I expect all the details stat
↳yourusername: literally on my way to you right now
↳yourbff: with all the juicy details?
↳yourusername: with something certainly
user15: love that jacket!
↳maison_du_chocolat: gotta represent when I’m creating!
↳user15: it’s a chef’s jacket???
↳maison_du_chocolat: yup!
↳user15: oh my god 🥺🥺
Bluesky
maison_du_chocolat
liked by charles_leclerc, yourbff, user, and 1,828,828 others
tagged: scuderiaferrari
maison_du_chocolat: a little sneak peak of what’s coming!
view all comments
user16: the anticipation is gonna actually kill me i think
↳user17: extreme but understandable
user18: car? Horse? 3D model of the Ferrari logo?
↳user17: an actual life size f1 car that runs
↳user18: tbh it might actually be faster then what we’ve been given this year…
↳user17: removing the floor and letting Carlos and Charles run the race is faster then this tractor…
↳user18: you’re not wrong
scuderiaferrari: we’re eagerly awaiting the results!
↳maison_du_chocolat: cool cool cool cool. No doubt no doubt, no pressure no pressure
↳scuderiaferrari: you’ve got this!
↳maison_du_chocolat: admin why would you stress me out like this…
↳scuderiaferrari: from the bottom of my heart, my bad
user20: less than 1 week left!
↳user21: I know! I’ve been counting down the days
↳user22: me too!
charles_leclerc: any hints for your favorite driver?
↳maison_du_chocolat: sorry but Sebastian isn’t racing anymore…
↳charles_leclerc: 🥺😢
↳user19: 🧐🧐
↳user53: ok grandma let’s get you back to bed
↳user19: you just wait…you’ll see…
↳user53: see what you crazy bat???
scuderiaferrari
liked by maison_du_chocolat, maxverstappen1, carlossainz55, and 2,276,511 others
Transcript:
First frame: “And for our last topic,y/n from the La Maison Du Chocolat…”
Second Frame: “Carlos: hahahaha, Charles: Oh noooo……, Carlos: yes let’s talk about y/n”
Third Frame: “Oh? Are you guys excited for the exhibit?”
Last Frame: “Carlos: Charles definitely is!, Charles: She is very talented!, Carlos: Not what I meant”
tagged: yourusername, maison_du_chocolat
scuderiaferrari: we talk cars, collections, and chocolate!
view all comments
user23: awwww Charles is blushing ☺️☺️☺️
maxverstappen1: 😹
↳carlossainz55: it’s even worse than you think
↳maxverstappen1: how??
↳carlossainz55: they cut a LOT of footage
↳maxverstappen1: oh my god 😹
↳charles_leclerc: it was not THAT bad
↳carlossainz55: it was
user24: the challenge is don’t talk about your crush! Charles fails instantly
↳user25: no but for real he’s so in love??? He’s just heart eyes and blushing face the entire video
↳user25: and THEY TAGGED her too! scuderiaferrari sees the vision as well
↳user24: I’m confused on how they have EVEN MORE footage?? Like it’s already 30 minutes of him yapping about yourusername…
↳user25: I NEED them to release the uncut version! scuderiaferrari! Please we’ve never asked for anything
↳scuderiaferrari: 👀👀
↳charles_leclerc: no.
↳scuderiaferrari: 🫣 sorry 😞
user19: y’all aren’t ready for what i have to say
↳user53: I’m tired of this grandpa
↳user19: that’s too damn bad! They’re dating!
↳user53: seriously? Oh my god…
↳user19: just wait and see user53. Just wait and see
Private Messages
Bluesky
user26: oh my god
↳user27: are you thinking what I’m thinking?
↳user26: Charles Leclerc and y/n?
↳user27: yes!!
user28: that crazy bitch has done it again
↳user53: you better not be talking about user19 with that tone?
↳user28: that crazy bitch (respectfully) has done it again ??
↳user53: acceptable (barely)
user19: WHAT DID I SAY? I TOLD YOU
↳user53: this is not PROOF. It is gossip!
↳user19: I've been sayin' it. I've been sayin' it for ten damn years. Ain't I been sayin' it?
↳user53: do you ever run out of movie quotes?
↳user19: nope! CAUSE I WAS RIGHT!!
↳user53: 🙄😂☺️
Private Messages
maison_du_chocolat
liked by charles_leclerc, scuderiaferrari, carlossainz55, and 3,127,225 others
tagged: scuderiaferrari, charles_leclerc, carlossainz55
maison_du_chocolat: here we are! And away we go!
Thank you scuderiaferrari for this wonderful opportunity! I hope your day is as wonderful as you are!
This was a chance of a lifetime and there’s no words I can write that will fully capture how much this means to me so I’ll simply say thank you again! Forza Ferrari Sempre!
view all comments
scuderiaferrari: 😳😳😳
↳scuderiaferrari: THESE ARE WONDERFUL!
↳scuderiaferrari: The perfect way to celebrate!
↳scuderiaferrari: Forza Ferrari Sempre!
user29: the classic car and the new one side by side?? 👌👌
user30: the fomo I have…
↳user31: good god same. I wish I could have been there to see them in person…
charles_leclerc: magnifique!!
↳maison_du_chocolat: thank you! And thank you again for showing me your car — I definitely needed the close up reference
↳user19: !!!!
↳user32: on their thread??
↳user53: not the time user19
↳user19: but!
↳user53: no
carlossainz55: these are amazing! Such artistry!
↳maison_du_chocolat: stoopppp. I’m blushing!
↳carlossainz55: 😉😉
↳charles_leclerc: 🤨🤨
↳carlossainz55: 🤣
user33: the presentation of this was wonderful as well
↳user34: almost better than the actual life size chocolate cars if I’m being honest
↳user35: ok I don’t know if I’d go that far…
↳user34: there was fireworks…
↳user35: yeah ok
Bluesky
user36: starting a countdown…
↳user37: to what?
↳user36: just wait
user38: god when will it be my turn???
user39: they look so cute!
↳user40: you can’t see their faces?
↳user39: but they look so comfy together? Like even out in public, they’re leaning up against one another — that’s cute and lovely!
↳user40: …we need to get you a date
user19: !!!!
↳user36: this user37
↳user37: what?
↳user53: yes yes yes you’re probably gonna be right. Let’s not rub it in everyone’s face
↳user19: you never let me have any fun
↳user53: we still don’t know for certain that it’s y/n!
↳user19: it will be!
user41: I’ve never felt more single then these 2!! photos have made me feel
↳user42: same
↳user43: same
charles_leclerc
liked by yourusername, yourbff, and 1,213,455 others
tagged: yourusername
charles_leclerc: happy 2 years mon amour — they’ve been the happiest I’ve ever been.
Thank you for teaching me to bake Christmas cookies (and for the special love potion — although you certainly don’t need to give me one!)
view all comments
user44: oh my god! 2 years???
user46: how on earth did they keep it a secret for so long??
yourusername: Mon soleil…I thought you wanted to keep this a secret?
↳charles_leclerc: oops ☺️☺️☺️
↳charles_leclerc: not anymore!
↳charles_leclerc: I need everyone to know you’re mine
↳yourusername: Mon soleil…
↳charles_leclerc: ehehehehe 😊😊😊
user48: Mon soleil…she calls him her sunshine…
↳yourusername: he lights up my life!
↳user48: my heart…I can’t go on…
↳yourusername: oops??
maxverstappen1: finally
↳charles_leclerc: what?
↳maxverstappen1: you can now yap to everyone else about her
↳maxverstappen1: stop bothering me
↳charles_leclerc: when have i ever?
↳carlossainz55: you think you have it bad?? And charles_leclerc the entire flight to Miami
↳maxverstappen1: and Brazil
↳oscarpiastri: and to Australia
↳logansargeant: the entire driver’s parade in Monday?
↳alex_albon: and in spa?
↳landonorris: to and from silverstone?
↳charles_leclerc: let a romantic live will you?
↳yourusername: awww soleil you talk about me?
↳carlossainz55: yes
↳maxverstappen1: more words than I’ve ever spoken
↳oscarpiastri: nonstop
↳logansargeant: never ending
↳alex_albon: yes
↳landonorris: yes
↳charles_leclerc: yes 🥰
#f1 smau#f1#f1 imagine#f1 fanfic#f1 instagram au#f1 x reader#f1 x you#formula 1 fanfic#formula 1 imagine#formula 1 instagram au#f1 fic#charles leclerc smau#charles leclerc x female reader#charles leclerc x you#charles leclerc x reader#charles leclerc imagine#charles leclerc fanfic#charles leclerc#formula 1 smau#formula 1 social media au#formula 1 x y/n#formula 1 x you#formula 1 x reader#formula 1#formula one#formula one x reader#formula one x you#formula one x y/n#formula one imagine
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short n' sweet (social media au) - op81
masterlist ||
Summary: The one where in an attempt to figure out who Y/N is dating, the internet come up with theories only to realise she is dating none other than Oscar Piastri and chaos ensues.
Pairing: oscar piastri x pop star!reader (model used: sabrina carpenter) (and domingooo)
Warnings: cursing (i think), sabrina carpenter is horny but it's okay we ride with it, feat the internet being the internet, i have a big fat crush on mercello hernandez so you have been warned
Auhtor note: came all this way, had to explain, direct from @percervall; mar this one is for you, i haven't had this much fun in a long time so thank you for indulging my brainrot and excitement😭🫶
Please also note that all of my works are protected under copyright, and not available for reposting on other platforms.
yourusername
Liked by elleusa, taylorswift, gracieabrams and 3,255,376 others
yourusername: toto, i have a feeling we're not in kansas anymore. short'n sweet cumming to a city near you! first stop: columbus, ohio
user: bro just give me ONE chance
user: SHE'S GORGEOUS ❤️❤️❤️❤️
user: te amo diva
user: don't know if i wanna be with her or i wanna be her
view all 5,594 comments.
user: see you tomorrow pookie
user: cant wait to see u 🫶🏼✨🤍
user: she’s the sweetest & shortest 💋
user: it’s Y/N's world and we’re just living in it😭🤍🤍💋💋💋
user: is he talking about TOTO FUCKING WOLFF??
user: why is f1 everywhere, no she isn't😭
tiktokuser1
caption: bed chem from opening night!!
user: that mic is ON! ✨
user: I LOVE THIS DIVA!!
user: watching this isn’t enough, I have to be there
user: I need that bed.. NEOWWW
user: SHE BETTER BRING THE DAMN TOUR TO AUSTRALIA CAUSE THE FOMO IS CRAZY
user: oh i think she'll be bringing the tour to australia alright
user: what does that mean??
user: what do you know!!
tiktokuser2
caption: YO I DON'T KNOW WHAT IS HAPPENING BUT SHORT N' SWEET TOUR IS THAT GIRL!!
user: 'have you ever tried this one?' ugh her mind😭
user: IS THIS THE NEW NONESENSE OUTRO FOR THIS TOUR I NEED TO KNOW
user: i can't take my eyes off this, i've been staring at it for the past five minutes!
user: okay diva we see you👀
yourusername
Liked by madisonbeer, oscarpiastri, haileybieber and 4,182,928 others
yourusername: hello l.a., are you ready to wrap it up?
user: OSCAR JACK PIASTRI WHAT ARE YOU DOING HERE?
user: okay who is he and why is he lurking in my diva's likes?
user: MY QUEEN (me typing this while listening to espresso 👀)
user: just a girl living life and making everyone fall in love with her
user: i’m 26 and AFRAID of Y/N Y/LN
view all 7,011 comments.
user: the caption and the last pic with the kittens the vibes don't match i love you😭
yourusername: stoppp, i diee
user: how is this tour like halfway over ????? second leg of tour maybe???? 😭
tiktokuser3
caption: have you ever tried this one?
user: i don't know how she keeps coming up with these
user: imagine having this much freak, i wouldn't be able to leave my house
user: am i the only one who is excited for the last three shows in la??
user: her boyfriend is one lucky guy that's for sure
user: she has a boyfriend??
user: girl who do you think the guy in the white jacket and the thick accent is?
tiktokuser4
caption: omg guys😭😭 domingo is here😭😭
user: CAME ALLL THIS WAAY HAD TO EXPLAAAIN
user: deerect from domingoo
user: okay hear me out... mercello and Y/N??
user: noooo, this crossover is actually too insane i can't handle it
user: look at how he's looking at her bro's down bad😭
tiktokuser5
caption: WE'VE LOST HER TO DOMINGO GUYS
user: somebody call kyle and tell him the good news😭
user: who's kyle?
user: omg do you live under a rock or something?
user: am i the only one who thinks they are not dating?
yourusername
Liked by tiktok, oscarpiastri, marcellohdz and 3,669,817 others
yourusername: LA night 2 ♥️💋 second locationnnn maybe he’s biiii!!! see you tonight for our last show of the US leg :’) how the hell
user: God bless your Dad’s genetics, Domingo
user: OMG DOMINGOOO… “NOW SHES WITH A HOT GUY BUT HE LOOKS GAY, HEARD HIS NAMES DOMINGO”
user: DOMINGO IS CHEATING ON KELSEY
user: no hate to domingo, but oscar jack piastri liked this post under 1 minute😭😭
user: i think we've established that she is probably dating marcello, please stop with the delulu
user: Y/N IM HERE👹
view all 5,179 comments.
user: marcelo hernandez had the opportunity to do the funniest thing ever… and he did
user: the budget for this tour is insane… feels like a literal broadway production
user: came all this way, let her explain deeerect from LA
yourusername
Liked by oscarpiastri, madisonbeer, marcellohdz and 4,928,234 others
yourusername: date night but make it our way tagged: oscarpiastri
user: i'm sorrryyyy, but the dress is giving andie andersonn
yourusername: princess sophia is having some fun tonightt
user: this is still the most mind boggling couple ever BUT YOU LOOK GOOD THO
user: i'm so normal about this, i am sooooo normal about this
user: it's giving ross from friends and i am here for it
user: the best hard launch in the history of hard launches
oscarpiastri: great show, even better after party
yourusername: why did i know you were going to comment this
oscarpiastri: i'm literally sitting right next to you and you saw me type it
user: unhinged gf x calm bf duo is superior and this is the biggest proof ever
view all 6,728 comments.
marcellohdz: but what about domingo...
yourusername: i'm sorry domingo...
user: but is mark webber still alive, MARK ARE YOU THERE
oscarpiastri
Liked by yourusername, landonorris, mclaren and 928,256 others
oscarpiastri: came all this way, had to explain... tagged: yourusername
yourusername: 100% recommend, 5-star service
oscarpiastri: 😐
yourusername: 🥰
user: mister oscar jack piastri god bless your dad's genetics indeed
user: world class driving, world class relationship reveal
landonorris: okay but do we get free concert tickets ooor?
oscarpiastri: 😐
yourusername: of course!
user: this is actually so cute i'm going to throw up
view all 3,156 comments.
user: have you ever tried this one just took a whole other meaning
user: wait, are we going to see them together in las vegas??
user: the hard launching is insaneee
#monzabee#formula 1 x reader#social media au#f1 social media au#f1 fanfic#f1 fanfiction#f1 x reader#oscar piastri#oscar piastri x reader#oscar piastri imagine#formula one x reader#oscar piastri social media au
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dark chocolate cherry
i want to bring you flowers from the mountains, bluebells, dark hazels, and rustic baskets of kisses. i want to do with you what spring does with the cherry trees.
or; your boyfriend shows up when you just want some alone time [3.2k]
jason todd x fem!reader; reader gets her period and describes painful symptoms; just fluff; jason "words don't come easy so here's acts of service" todd this is supposed to be earlier in the relationship which is why he's still a little shy but i think she knows he's red hood? idk man. i was just going with it; can you guess what inspired this? (everything is awful) and this is like…not that good
The day started at 2 AM when you woke to shooting pains in your abdomen and blood everywhere. It continued until 2:45 while you cleaned yourself, changed clothes, put on a fresh pad, took some painkillers, and changed the sheets. It paused for about an hour until you woke up again at 4:00, courtesy of Gotham’s patented night-life that had taught you to completely tune out the sound of police sirens. Tonight, however, they weren’t tuning out.
The sirens quieted at 4:10, by which angry tears collected in the corners of your eyes as you flopped around in bed in an attempt to get comfortable. No matter what you did, there was always something wrong; the pillow was too hard, the blanket was too scratchy, the position hurt your arm.
From 4:11 to 4:12, you screamed into your pillow.
By 4:15 you had settled in front of the TV with a bowl of dry cereal (it took everything in you not to cry over the lack of milk in your fridge), a heating pad, and your favorite comfort show queued up.
At 8 AM you managed to drag yourself to work, where you half-assed the day’s tasks, took a 15-minute break to cry in your car, then dipped out a half-hour early.
Now, at 5 PM on a Friday evening, you’re curled into the fetal position in front of your TV with your comfort show resumed and your trusty heating pad cranked to the highest setting. Prepared to spend the entire night here, you already changed into pajamas and kept a couple blankets within reach. Your phone buzzes on the coffee table, and you stretch to reach it, careful not to lose your comfortable position or roll off the couch.
Jason About to leave Be there in 20
You groan out loud. You want to throw your phone across the room, but decide against it because no amount of hormones from hell are worth six hundred dollars. You’re still angry, though, for being so stupid as to forget about the date you had planned for tonight. Scrolling up to earlier messages, you see another text from today wishing you a good morning and telling you he was excited to see you tonight. But, too down to bother checking any messages today, you had missed it.
You I can’t tonight anymore I’m sorry I don’t feel great
After hitting send, you place your phone on the ground, not even having the energy to reach for the coffee table again. Or the energy to lift your arm back up, apparently, given how it hangs limply over the edge of the couch. You feel guilty about cancelling, but you are in no state to go out tonight. You’re used to the symptoms of your period hitting so hard. As much as you and Jason care about each other, you’re not sure you’re ready for him to see you like this. You’ve managed to plan your relationship around your hormone cycle so far, but today it came early.
Your phone’s buzzing is muffled by the rug, and you almost don’t hear it. Jason’s photo is displayed on the screen.
Your hanging hand clicks ‘answer’ and puts it on speaker so you can take the call without moving from how you're curled up.
“Is everything okay? What’s wrong?”
“Nothing, I’m fine, I just don’t feel up for going out tonight. I’d rather stay home.”
“Did something happen?”
“No, I just got my period so I’m not really in the mood.”
“Okay, we can stay in tonight. What do you feel like eating? I can pick something up.”
“No, Jason…I want to stay home alone tonight.”
There’s a beat of silence on the other end of the line.
“Okay…did I do something?” His voice comes out a little smaller.
“No, you’re fine, I promise. I just don’t feel like seeing anyone right now.”
“…Not even me?”
Your hand presses against your temples to soothe the building tension headache. The self-doubt in his tone brings the anguish of the entire day bubbling up your throat. You feel like the worst person in the world. Exactly how you don’t want him to see you.
“Jason…it’s not you. I just…I feel like shit right now, honestly. Everything hurts, I’m miserable and sad and angry at everything, I’m breaking out all over.” You feel yourself welling up at all these little stresses coming out. “I’m craving everything but feel too sick to eat anything…I feel pretty disgusting right now, and frankly, I don’t want you to see me like this.” You finish your rant with a sniffle. You wipe your nose, trying to hold back the sob that’s threatening to break through. But at his silence, your worst, most improbable fears claw their way to the surface: he hates you now. You scared him away. You exhale heavily into your sleeve as more tears spill.
The phone is quiet for a long moment. Then; “I could never find you disgusting,” he says, gently. “But if that’s what you want, then we’ll reschedule.”
“Thank you. And sorry.”
He speaks with a tone you can’t quite parse. “Don’t apologize. Just feel better.”
-
-
-
It’s one hour after your phone call, and at the first knock, you know who it is. Who else could it be? With that soft, somewhat hesitant, one-knuckle rap on the door. Only one person knocks on your door like that.
“Jason, I told you not to come here,” you say a little more cutting than you intend to, but your back and shoulders feel like they’re about to snap under a phantom pressure and the frustration of your request being outright ignored leaves a burning bitterness that channels itself into a violent wrenching open of the door.
He jumps a little at the abruptness of your greeting. One look at your face and he visibly deflates.
“I’m sorry…I know you said not to come, but…” his gaze casts downward to his hands. You follow; he’s clutching a reusable grocery bag. Peeking out of the top is a gallon of Neapolitan ice cream. The ice cream carton’s condensation seeped through a small patch of the cloth bag and dripped onto the other items; a bushel of greens, among some other fruits and vegetables, as well as a parcel of brown paper that was fastened closed with a twine string. You return your gaze to his face.
“I think—” he cuts himself off, free hand coming up to rub the back of his neck. Then he drops his hand and sighs. “I’m sorry. This was a bad idea. You told me not to come here and I ignored you, but I thought…” he trails off, probably hoping you’ll say something so he can gauge your reaction.
You just stare at him.
He shifts his weight back and forth. His hand twitches.
“Okay, yeah, I’ll—”
Then, you burst into tears.
Jason’s eyes widen. He reaches out to touch you, then stops himself. “Oh, fuck, I’m sorry! I’m sorry, this was stupid. Please stop crying, I’m so sorry—” He’s panicked, trying to calm you down with apologies and soothing assurances that he will leave immediately and never go against your wishes again. All the while you stand in the doorway, blubbering like a toddler with a skinned knee, new tears forming faster than you can wipe the old ones away.
He once again raises a hand towards you, before it stutters, then clenches into a fist as if it takes all his strength to fight against the instinct to be close to you, fighting against the string that tethers him to you. He drags his hand down his face, then it falls back to his side.
“Okay, I—I’m leaving now. I’m leaving. Do you…want this?” He holds the bag out to you.
With it now in front of you, its further contents are visible. You manage to tamp down your tears enough to get a few words out.
“Did you—hic—buy me groceries?”
“Yeah…” There’s a wince in his tone, as if he’s only now realizing that his gesture is not translating as he intended.
You look back up at him with pursed lips and knitted brows, sniffling. Sure, the ice cream you can understand, but…you have no idea what to make of the rest.
The bag drops back to his side. “I figured…it’s just— it’s the stuff that you’re supposed to—” He strokes his palm over his mouth, eyes screwing shut for a moment. He huffs at himself, then continues. “I mean I’m sure you already know all of this, so maybe you already have all these things, and now I’m realizing how unnecessary all this was, and I shouldn’t have assumed—”
“Jason,” you say. Your upset has since been overshadowed by something else, though you can’t tell what it is. And your crying has stopped, but its lingering effects have you feeling congested and a little foggy. You’re half expecting this to be a fever dream that you’re moments away from waking up from in a cold sweat.
“—because obviously you know what helps you feel better much more than I do—”
“Jason.”
“And you— yeah?” His eyes are a little harried when they find yours again. But off your tired and still-confused look, he gets the message and collects himself.
“Right, yeah, I just thought that…maybe I could bring you some of the stuff with all those minerals that are supposed to help women when they’re…menstruating.” He briefly breaks eye contact at the end of his sentence, red rouge creeping up his neck.
You can’t help it; you start to giggle. You can’t remember the last time you heard a man use the term ‘menstruating’ in a non-medical context. And the fact that he’s so shy about it— upset as you may be (though not at him), there’s no denying how adorable your boyfriend is. His head shoots back to you as your laughter intensifies. He blushes harder.
“It’s not that funny,” he mutters.
You step away from the door, finally closing the space between you, and wrap your arms around his torso. Your head nestles into his chest. He gently drops the grocery bag on the ground and reciprocates your hug. He rests his chin on your head, which fits perfectly under his. Like two puzzle pieces clicking into place. You breathe him in.
“Sorry I’m such a mess,” you murmur into his shirt.
He breathes into your hair. “You have nothing to apologize for. And you’re not a mess.”
You look up, chin resting in the space between his collarbones. He looks down at you with a small smile, but some wariness is still etched into his features. Fear of unwittingly upsetting you again. He brings up a hand to push some hair out of your face and tuck it behind your ear. His hand remains there, toying with the hair that falls below your shoulder.
"Thank you for the food,” you whisper. The moment feels too intimate to speak any other way.
“I’m sorry for not listening to you. I just…” He imitates your quietness, like his admission is also too vulnerable to say loudly. “I really wanted to see you. And I hated the idea of you feeling bad about yourself, or being in pain. I didn’t mean to upset you.”
Your eyes feel wet again. The first instinct is to hide your face, maybe press it to his chest once more. But, for some reason, you don’t. You want him to see you like this, messy and emotional and upset. You want him to see every part of you, and you want to see every part of him, the good and the bad.
“You didn’t.” A tear slips past the effort to keep it at bay. He shows no reaction to it, eyes never leaving yours, other than a quick swiping away with his thumb. “No one’s ever done anything like this for me before. That’s why I was crying. Not because you showed up.”
“That doesn’t seem right. This is nothing. You deserve even more.”
With no words to fully, adequately communicate the blooming in your chest, you stand on your toes, reaching up to him for a kiss. But given his stature, your lips only reach his chin and brush over its underside.
At your quiet whine, he chuckles and leans down to meet you in the middle. The kiss is soft; filled with the innocence of fresh blossoms in the spring, and the sweetness of its borne fruit.
You pull away when a vicious cramp roots you back to the present. Your limps tighten around Jason with a groan.
“I need to go back inside. I’ve been away from my heating pad for too long.”
His shoulders sag when you step away from him. “Oh, um…do you still…want me to leave?”
With a simple exhale of humorous disbelief, you grasp his hand in yours and tug him to your front door. He’s like an excited puppy, eyes brightened and perking up as he grabs the grocery bag and happily trails after you.
He goes straight to the kitchen, pulling out a chair at the counter for you to settle into, then sets the bag on the counter. The ice cream carton has dampened most of the cloth by now, and likely the rest of its contents, but rather than attending to the groceries, his first action is retrieving your heating pad from where it rests on the couch. He unplugs it from the wall outlet and brings it to you. You curl up on the chair with it pressed flat against your lower stomach. It only takes a minute for the pressure in your hips to abate.
Then he moves to the groceries. The ice cream immediately goes in the freezer, and he unloads what’s remaining onto the counter, one by one, and you take note of each item. There’s spinach, carrots, apples, oranges, dark chocolate, some kind of meat wrapped in brown paper, and, strangely enough, an entire block of cheese.
You give him a quizzical look, picking it up to read the label. “You got me…cheddar cheese?”
He retrieves a cutting board and knife from its spot next to the sink, then takes the cheese from you. “Good for certain symptoms.” He slices open the plastic wrapping and cuts out some cubes with skilled efficiency. He does the same with an apple. “They all are,” he says, referring to his entire haul. He completes the makeshift charcuterie board with a couple squares of dark chocolate and slides it across the counter.
You look down at the cutting board, thinking about everything he’s done for you; everything you never even had to ask for. The words sit on your tongue, encaged by your clenched teeth; an admission that coils itself around your spine and squeezes tight, restricts your breathing and pumps your heart at thrice its speed. But you feel yourself welling up again, and the first bout of tears already exhausted you so much that all you can manage is, “I don’t know what to do with all this. I don’t have the energy to make anything good.”
But he just smiles and says, “That’s what I’m here for, honey. Can I make you something?”
You nod. He gets to work. The immediacy of his actions, how he takes no time to decide on a dish or find a recipe, makes you think his previously stated intentions of ‘just dropping this off’ were less genuine than he lead you to believe. Nevertheless, you munch on the snacks he laid out for you and watch him work. The cheese and apples are a surprisingly cohesive combination, the meshing of sweet crispiness and savory creaminess eliciting a contented sigh from you. You try to ignore the way Jason smirks in the corner of your periphery. The chocolate is incredible, yet unfamiliar. You read the label on the packaging: 80% Dark Chocolate with Cherry and Almond Filling. Even if you hadn’t tasted it yet, the quality of the packaging itself would have been enough to let you know that this chocolate is extremely high-quality. Like, special-order-from-Europe quality. Not stop-at-the-grocery-store-on-the-way-home quality.
“Where is this from? Did you buy this today?” You ask him through a mouthful of the rich, melting chocolate.
He doesn’t look up from the carrots he’s dicing. “Uh…no.”
Anyone else would attribute his avoidance of eye-contact to standard kitchen-knife caution. You are not anyone else. You could blindfold him, spin him around ten times, put a sharp knife in his hand, and he could still pull off a perfect julienne. You look closer. His cheeks are dusted with pink.
You let out a laugh. “Jason, you’re not embarrassed about liking fancy chocolate, are you?”
“No! Not at all,” he says, ceasing his chopping. He looks up, but not quite at you.
“Then?”
“‘Then’ what?” He asks.
“Then why are you being so shifty right now?” You try to catch his gaze.
“I’m not!” He defends. “It’s just chocolate! Do you like it? I’ll bring you more.” He’s stealthy with the way he avoids your eyes; you almost can’t notice how hard he’s trying not to make eye contact.
“Jason!” You reach across the counter, having to rise off the chair slightly, and take his face in your hands, making him look at you. When he does, he wears a sheepish smile.
“It’s…” His removes your hands from his face, holding them in his. He mumbles something, turning his head to the side. But you catch the tail end of it, a goading grin already creeping up your face.
“What was that?” You tilt your ear towards him, exaggerating the action.
“It’s Bruce’s.” He, in turn, exaggerates the enunciation, rolling his eyes at your simpering. “I…found it. In his pantry one day. And I liked it, so I took it. And then I…kept taking it. Every time I visited.”
You pout teasingly. “And you’re ashamed to admit that you think he has good taste in something?”
He doesn’t say anything, only hiding his face in his shoulder. You pull on your intertwined hands and he gets the message, skirting around the kitchen counter to come closer.
“You are so adorable, you know that?” You say. You reach up and pinch his cheeks. He swats your hands away, but there’s no mistaking his broad, childish grin for anything but affection.
He breaks off another square from the chocolate bar and holds it to your lips. You bite off a small portion, then push it back to him. He takes the remaining piece in his mouth and his eyes close for a brief moment as he savors the sweet, tart, and nutty flavors. You simply watch, entranced by him. Then, he kisses you. You lean into it, hands sliding up his shirt to grip the fabric and bring him even closer. His hold finds your waist.
He tastes like cherries and dark chocolate.
He breaks the kiss to rest his forehead on yours, and you want to tell him that. That, and so much more. But from the look on his face, the way his eyes find yours and the tips of his ears have a similar heat to the one in your chest, you can tell he already knows.
when it comes to jason's post-pit-repressed-teenager characterization (aka despite being older he's still as inexperienced and confused and insecure about the world outside of vigilantism and w/ women as a 15 y/o would be) (aka my favorite characterization tee hee), i think that he's mature about periods, knows they're normal and not gross or shameful etc, but still gets shy about saying the actual word, for no other reason than the 'shy around women' part always makes me giggle
also bruce is keeping the chocolate stocked specifically because he knows jason likes it and will keep taking it because he loves his son even if his son doesn't love him (he does he's just in his angsty teen 'i hate this family you don't understand me' phase rn)
divider is from here
quote at the beginning is pablo neruda <3
#more of my jason todd domesticity agenda#batman#red hood#jason todd#jason todd x reader#jason todd x you#jason todd x y/n#batfamily#dc universe#dc comics#dcu#dc robin#robin#dick grayson#bruce wayne#damian wayne#tim drake#nightwing#red robin#red hood x reader#batfam#robin jason todd
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☀︎it’s not transactional ☀︎
stop looking at methods as a unit of currency…
When people speak of relationships, they say it shouldn’t be transactional because that’s toxic. For example just because your boyfriend/girlfriend has done something nice for you doesn’t mean you owe him or her sex. And the same goes for your relationship with manifesting, you aren’t owed your desires just because you did some method? And why? because you already have them.
Stop seeing methods as if it’s some unit of exchange!! what it’s not:
you do the method ➯ you get your manifestation
you affirm “I AM” ➯ you induce the void state
you listen to that one subliminal ➯ you have your dream body
It’s not something that you exchange, it’s not “I give my time and effort to this method and then in return I get my manifestation” stop seeing it like money. With money you give and you get something you paid for in return. That’s not how it works here because you don’t need to get something you already have and failure to understand will cost you a lot of time with your manifestations and will cost you a lot of blood sweat and tears that just don’t need to shed.
Methods don’t help you get things, the things you wanted were yours the second you wanted them to be. What methods do is remind you, because unfortunately we live in a society that drills a horrible way of thinking into our heads. Thinking that tells us that “nothing is free”, “you have to work for what you want”, “life isn’t fair”. And due to this thinking being instilled in us since forever, we need reminders, in a perfect world we would think of something and it would appear infront of us, but because of society, so much resistance has been created that we need reminders to brake those barriers, those reminders come in methods. And that’s all they are.
Now since i showed you what doesn’t happen, let me show you what actually happens:
you thought of it ➯ it’s here ➯ remind yourself with a method (optional) ➯ stand firm (mandatory) ➯ your already real desire appears in the 3d as a mere byproduct, the cherry on top if you will.
you are “I AM” ➯ you set the intention to induce pure consciousness ➯ you affirm “I AM” to remind yourself (optional) ➯ you’ve induce pure consciousness, congrats
you are the operant power ➯ you decide you want that body, it’s not desired anymore it’s just how you look ➯ subliminal reminds you of that ➯ appears in the 3d as a side effect
So do not come here and say “I tried this method and it failed me”, no. that’s just not possible. You failed to remind yourself and you wavered. Nothing to do with a lifeless method.
Let’s say you want to go to a certain destination? The method isn’t the car driving you there, it doesn’t help you get there, it doesn’t help you get anywhere. Because guess what? you were already at your dream destination, the method just helps you remember even when circumstances shows that your still in the unfavourable destination.
so please stop scrolling endlessly for the “best method”, because there is no method that objectively works better than the other, however there may be methods that help you stand a lot firmer. But you need to remember it’s individual, just because you saw a girl who did affirmations and got her dream life in a week doesn’t mean that will help you stand firm better, visualisation may help you achieve the favourable mindset a lot easier and quicker than a subliminal, everyone is different.
And that is why, you don’t need methods, when bloggers say “all you need is yourself” we’re not tryna give you some sappy motivation, it’s truth. You don’t need any method, at all.
☄️🐋 Methods are the reminder, not the booster or the helper… 💋
#salemlunaa#shiftblr#reality shifting#shifting#loa#respawning#pure consciousness#i am state#void#void state tips#the void state#void state#voidstate#permashifting#law of assumption#success story#the void#void concept#shifting consciousness#master manifestor#manifesting#manifestation
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I don't share this often, but I am a trans man named Minty.
awhile after I got my legal name change, I asked my mom what she would have named me if I was a boy. she said Sebastian, and I groaned and complained that I should have asked before I got the name change, because I really DID like Sebastian now that it was occurring to me as a possible name and had ALWAYS liked Sebastian, even before my MCU days as a teenager. I had even considered it as an option but worried I'd end up looking like a weird fandom kid that had never let go of the MCU. if I had known that was the name my mother had picked for me, I would have had justification to choose it.
she asked me why I picked Minty then. i kinda paused in surprise because I thought it was obvious. and I was like. well. I wanted a name i felt like I could associate with childhood me.
after the first house we lived in was foreclosed on by the bank, we had to rent while my parents fixed their credit and swore never to get a fixer upper again. so we picked a nice house in our small town with only two real neighbors of note: an old lady, whose kids had forgotten about her, that lived way down the alley, around the point it turned from paved to dirt, the only house down there, who had a pomegranate tree in her ill-tended front yard, and a nice old lady next door that for some inexplicable reason had a miniature horse and a beautifully tended flower garden she had foolishly once planted mint in. she also had a very, very old fashioned rotary telephone. I mean the kind hardwired into the wall, of metal, with a speaker with a smooth wooden handle that sat neatly on top. not one of the plastic ones. the ones you see in old movies.
we loved these old ladies very much. the pomegranate lady was too old to keep up on her yard, so my brother and I would go with our dad to help weed whack and scrape up the dead leaves. we didn't offer too much, she was a proud sort, and couldn't pay us, but just enough to help out a little. and the mint in her flower garden lady loved it when we came by to say hi to her horse whose name I forget and loved to teach us how to garden.
she would send us home with mint. obviously. because when you have a mint infestation, well. it's pointless, but you gotta try anyway. and my mom would take that mint and make sun tea, just on the edge of not sweet enough, bc she was a bit of a crunchy mom, but not enough to reprimand me for sneaking a bit of sugar into my cup after to mix it up. (the sugar never dissolved right, especially after it was chilled, and i would always make a racket trying to get it to do so)
I told her I picked Minty because it ties me to my childhood. I didn't want to just cast it away. I wasn't Minty yet, but I also wouldn't be Minty without those days.
mom hasn't fully come around to me being trans. but she was quiet for a long, long time before she kind of whispered. I think I like Minty better than Sebastian. you should keep it.
my mom has always beat herself up over our childhood. she lacked a lot of stability in her upbringing and thought church was the way to go with my brother and I. unfortunately, she picked the wrong church. it was intensely traumatizing for us. we've had a lot of tough conversations about it. but I was able to tell her that day, you know Mom, I know you think you didn't do enough, but just know I'm not trans because you put me in a place where womanhood was miserable and I'm running from it. I don't remember much of the church, even though it consumed my life. what I do remember is my mother, the woman I may have complicated feelings towards, but have always admired and was always my standard for womanhood, being criticized by the other women for allowing me to read this book or that book and not bending or breaking under their rebukes for twenty years. I remember finding out as a twenty year old that I was the only "girl" in church that got the HPV vaccine, because you wanted to protect me, and not rely on chastity alone, like some sort of egotistical maniac who believed I'd always be your daughter, not a living breathing person that would make choices you didn't approve of as an adult, that shouldn't have to suffer for no reason from those choices. I remember you reading to my brother and I well into our teen years, using your acting talents that didn't blossom into the career you wanted to bring the characters in Peter and the Starcatchers to life. I remember listening to Lord of the Rings on cassette tape in the mini van, even though they said it was demonic when they found out. I remember the mom that let me be a tomboy. I remember the mom that would put on the Wind and the Willows on cassette from the library on rainy summer days and we'd listen to it and eat meatballs and spaghetti in the kitchen.
I told her, you're not a failure as a mother, and I didn't hate womanhood because of your example. it just didn't fit me. you made mistakes because you're human. I never thought of you as less than because you're a woman, and I didn't want to escape the cage you're thinking i wanted to escape.
my mom cried. I think that was the first time i made her cry and didn't feel bad about it.
anyways. not a soft memory, but it feels soft to me.
Tell me a soft memory
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with all the power in oz
movie!fiyero x gn!reader, 2.2k words summary: the reader, rather anxious and studious, finds their self head-over-heels with none other than fiyero, supposed boyfriend to galinda upland. to placate this, they somewhat agree to meet him at the ozdust ballroom. a/n: YOU pronouns are used to address the reader, but there is no usage of y/n. just watched the movie today. tried to find a fic, couldn't. here I am writing one instead. reader worries a lot. so me. you're welcome. also, I'm going into this blind. I have unfortunately never seen the actual musical (downsides to living in the middle of nowhere) so I'm only going off based on wikis and the movie. it should be gn as I read through it like... five different times, but please let me know if I missed something!
Breathtaking. That's what he was. But could you truly refer to a man like him as breathtaking?
The very features that graced his face were absolutely mesmerizing, and you felt like a fool watching him at times. How could you not? He seemed so full of life, so full of... well, not a care in the world, really. It was as if he brushed everything off of his shoulders without hesitation.
You could only wished you were the same way.
No cares, no worries. How lovely that would have been.
No, you hold onto the things that happen to you as if you have no other way to live. You hold grudges, you think over things that happened years ago that no one could possibly remember.
For someone who wished to be a sorcerer, you had a hard time simply letting things go. Your emotions often got the better of you, even when you knew better. Even when you wished it could be the opposite. But perhaps that was the way of the world.
Not a man in Oz could tell you otherwise.
Books in hands, you crossed the path to your dormitory, brows cinched together in mild concentration.
You had a project in your history class, and an extensive paper to complete on the study of mathematics—of all the things you could have had, a paper in mathematics. You'd rather perform magic in front of the entire student body, but you couldn't.
As you walked, you heard your name come from behind you. Eyes flicker back, a soft frown on your lips. You see him—Fiyero. The one fool you meant to avoid with all the gumption within you.
You'd melt just being near him.
"Fiyero," you softly greet.
He gave you a charming smile, coming up to walk with you. "Heading back already?" he asked.
"I am."
"Working on the project, hm? We could work on it together if you'd like. I'm sure our minds could do wonders," he said, a playful wink coming from him.
"I'm fine," you simply said.
He blinked slowly, but his smile never wavered. "Come now," he said, your name leaving his lips rather sweetly. "Surely you're not going to spend the rest of your evening alone. Why don't you come to Ozdust tonight?"
You looked back at him, frowning. "Ozdust. Me. I don't think so, Fiyero."
"And why not? I'm sure you'd be as dashing as ever."
You stopped in your steps, eyes searching his for but a moment. "Dashing. Are you in earnest, Fiyero?"
"Yes," he said, smiling.
"And what of Galinda? You'll be with her. Why invite me?"
"She doesn't need to know. It's not her business," he said. "Besides, she will be busy with Elphaba. I'd much rather spend time with you."
"And I think you're just pulling my leg," you said defensively. You crossed your arms over your chest, careful to keep your books close.
"Pulling your leg? I haven't even touched you," he said, a cheeky grin on his lips. "Come now, don't play coy. You should come."
"And if I do?"
"Then I'll be quite happy."
You rolled your eyes and went to walk away.
A hand wrapped around your bicep, and you paused, glancing over your shoulder at him.
His eyes widened a bit and he dropped his hand, albeit hesitantly. Perhaps he didn't think he would actually reach out to you. He cleared his throat.
"I really would like you to be there. You'll have the time of your life."
"The time of my life," you repeated. "I don't think you realize how much I dread parties."
"Have you ever been to one?"
"No."
"Then how do you know you dread them?"
"I just know," you said. "I feel it in my bones. I know going will just get on my nerves."
He scoffed, placing his hands on his hips. "I think you're foolish for that," he said. "Come on. What are you losing? A couple hours to work on a project that you know you could finish in a morning session? You'll be fine. Come to the Ozdust tonight. I'll show you a good time."
You clenched your jaw. "I don't want—"
"—I would like you to be there. That is all. I won't ask again." He gave you another small smile before he looked away. "I'll see you around. Perhaps tonight?"
You stared him down. He would like to see you there? Was he being honest? And what of Galinda? Would he be going behind her back? Wasn't he madly in love with her, or something? Or was it the other way around?
He said your name once more, and you looked up at him, letting out a soft sigh.
"Right. Perhaps tonight," you softly said.
The smile on his lips was rather... hopeful than anything else. There wasn't anything smarmy by it. He seemed as genuine as the glint in his eye—the one he used when he spoke with anyone he trusted. At least, you hoped so.
The night came quickly as you finished up your outfit—one you would hope you didn't look completely foolish in. The color you chose seemed to fit well with almost anything, but you still worried. You always worried about something.
Time was of the essence. You weren't even supposed to leave Shiz University's campus, but here you were, sneaking like some scoundrel.
Well, perhaps you were, listening to the requests of a man who already had a girlfriend—a fantastically beautiful one at that.
But you paid no mind. You did what you could, and soon, you found yourself walking down the steps of the Ozdust Ballroom.
Never had you been in a place like this. It was almost... breathtaking, had it not been for the overpowering smells of perfume and some kind of drink wafting from the bar. Your eyes flitted from patron to patron until you finally spotted him—Fiyero.
He looked just as handsome as ever.
Good Oz, what in the world were you doing? This was foolish.
You took a step back, staring at Fiyero for a moment as he spoke with another man, drink in hand. You needed to leave. This was ridiculous. You were ridiculous! Never in a thousand years would you ever imagine yourself to do such a thing—
"You made it!"
Fiyero's voice rang out above the music.
You look to him, eyebrows furrowed in frustration. Because of course he saw you as soon as you had decided to leave.
Fiyero smiled and made his way to you, taking your hands in his, drink left with the confused man behind him. Surely he didn't just up and leave in the middle of his conversation.
You part your lips and go to speak, but to your dismay, Fiyero is instant.
"I was afraid you had changed your mind," he said. "You look ravishing, darling."
Your eyes widened. Ravishing? You'd been called many things in your life, but never ravishing.
"Galinda couldn't make it?" you asked.
"Wha—no, she couldn't. But what of it? I didn't ask her to the Ozdust, I asked you. I'm glad to see your face."
Warmth blossomed in your cheeks as you watched him. "Fiyero, please... I shouldn't be here."
"Oh, nonsense," he said, grinning all the while. "Come. Dance with me."
"But I don't—"
"—do not say you don't dance. I can teach you."
"Teach me?"
"It's as easy as breathing," he said.
"For you, maybe, but not for—"
"—humor me," he said, smiling.
You pursed your lips. Of course he had to give you that charming smile and the sweet bat of his eyelashes.
"I do not dance," you repeated.
"I think I will be the judge of that."
He grabbed your hands once more and pulled you out into the ballroom floor, smiling all the while.
"You'll be a natural. I can just see it."
"I feel like if I were a natural, you wouldn't have to teach me," you said, gasping as he pulled you close to his chest. His face was dangerously close to yours, his eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.
"You know," he began, eyes flickering back to your eyes. "We all start somewhere, do we not? You should know that better than anyone."
"What? What does that—"
He interrupted you by spinning you by your arm, back into his embrace. The music was rather ambient, not quite one for dancing so enthusiastically, but Fiyero embraced it. Hand to your hand, face close to your face.
"See? A natural."
"You merely spun me around, Fiyero. Do not be foolish."
"You could have fell flat on your face," he said, a boyish grin evident on his lips.
"Stop looking at me like that," you defiantly said. "You are far too close to me for my liking."
"Oh, feisty, are we?" he asked, moving his body along to the music and forcing you to go along, too. You nearly stepped on his toes several times. "I do not think there is anything wrong with the way I'm looking at you. You're rather breathtaking, if I may."
Breathtaking. The same way you had described him only hours before. He wasn't a mind reader, was he?
No.
Of course not. That was foolish. He was merely a man. Nothing of great importance—no power within him other than the power he held in every single eyelash as they batted down at you, making you melt over and over again.
"What of Galinda?" you repeated.
"What of her?"
"You shouldn't be calling someone who isn't yours breathtaking. It's quite..."
"There is nothing wrong with admiring the beauty in front of me," he said, your name playfully leaving his tongue. "Look at me. Galinda and I are only friends."
You rolled your eyes. "Do not lie to me."
His eyes widened a bit. "Lie? I do not lie. We are friends and nothing more. Though I do believe she thinks differently..."
"She must," you said, huffing softly.
"But that does not make it true. I have eyes for someone else."
"Eyes for someone else?"
He tilted his head once more. He was rather endearing when he did that.
"Who did I ask to their very first party?" he asked, smiling. "It's quite a feat, isn't it? Afraid you wouldn't show, and then you do, questioning me and everything I stand for, hm?"
Warmth found its way to your cheeks once more. You looked away from him. With the crescendo of the music, Fiyero pulled you closer, fingers lacing with yours. His lips hover dangerously close to yours.
"You know, if you would just give it a chance, perhaps you and I could make some magic of our own."
You let out a curt laugh. "You—oh, good Oz, I hope you never use that line on anyone! Has that worked for you before?"
He gave a cheeky smile. "It seems like it's working on you."
"Absolutely not!"
"Not even a little!"
"No!"
His smile only seemed to grow. "Truly?"
You looked away, swallowing thickly. "I mean... no. Not even a little. Not at all."
"You're lying," he said.
"I am not."
"I do think I know what I'm talking about," he said, leaning forward and pressing a soft kiss to the soft skin of your cheek. "Come now," he said. "Stop with the lies."
You looked up at him, a soft huff escaping you.
"Fine. I lied. It may or may not be working. But it's not just because of what you said."
"Oh? Are you saying you like me for more than my suave words?"
"Suave words? Who in Oz said they were suave?"
He just smiled, his eyes flickering to your lips once more. "Do you think instead of just a dance, I could try something more?"
"Try what?"
"I think you know."
You blinked slowly at him, your fingers gently gripping onto his tunic. Your lips part in mild surprise, but you realize that you shouldn't have been. He'd been eyeing you the entire evening.
"Very well," you softly said.
"Wonderful," he replied, and in a swift motion, he pressed his lips to yours. It was short as he pulled back almost as soon as he had kissed you, but it was enough to keep you wanting more.
"Fiyero, that wasn't—"
"—come with me," he softly said, lacing his fingers with yours once more. "Somewhere without so many prying eyes, yes?"
Your answer was almost instant: "Yes."
Fiyero led you back up the staircase, and he didn't look back once at the ballroom.
"Where are we going?" you asked.
"Somewhere where I can see you and only you," he said. "If that's alright."
"Oh," you softly said. "Yes. That's alright."
"Then follow me," he said. "Do you trust me?"
You smiled sincerely for one of the first times in the evening. Did you trust him? What kind of foolish question was that? If you had the chance, you'd do whatever he'd ask of you. You found your answer rather quickly, knowing within yourself that it was far truer than any other statement you had ever uttered.
"With all the power in Oz."
#fiyero#wicked fiyero#fiyero tigelaar#wicked movie#wicked 2024#movie fiyero#movie fiyero x reader#fiyero x reader#gn!reader#Jonathan Bailey#wicked x reader#x reader#fanfic#wicked fanfic#fiyero wicked#fiyero wicked x reader#Jonathan Bailey fiyero
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can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19
Or: a secret Admirer AU
PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18
Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.
“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.
Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.
He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.
Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.
“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”
It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”
Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.
“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”
“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”
Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.
“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”
“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.
“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”
“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.
“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.
It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.
But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.
“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.
Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.
It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.
Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.
Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.
When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.
“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.
Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.
He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.
“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”
***
Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.
He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.
“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”
Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.
Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.
“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”
Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.
“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.
Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.
Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.
“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”
Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.
“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.
“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”
Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.
“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”
Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.
“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”
A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”
“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.
Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.
“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”
Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”
Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.
“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”
And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.
Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.
“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”
“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”
“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”
Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”
“Coming from you?”
“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.
“Shut up,” Steve mutters.
Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”
Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.
Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.
“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.
Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.
Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.
“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”
Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”
At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.
For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”
As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”
“I know.”
Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.
“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”
***
Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.
It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.
He’s never buying popcorn again.
But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.
It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.
He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.
But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.
He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.
It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.
“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.
“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”
Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.
By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.
“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.
Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”
The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.
“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”
“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.
It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.
He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.
“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”
Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”
Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.
“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.
Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”
Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”
Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.
Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”
“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.
Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐
First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐
“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”
“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.
And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.
“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.
It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist.
Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.
Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”
“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.
Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.
Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.
“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.
“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.
“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.
He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.
“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.
“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.
“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”
Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.
Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.
Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”
“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.
“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.
When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.
“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.
“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.
PART 20
#koko's steddie secret admirer au#steddie#my fic#and the cute to go with all the awkwardness of the part berfore#the stargazing scene here is what helped me settle on the title of the fic <3<3<3
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Secrets Are For Grown Ups
I am demanding my smooches now.
@beloveds-embrace @cherrycosmos392 @mxtallymarks @love-kha1
CW: Asshole Simon and Johnny using you for sex instead of each other. Calling out someone else's name during sex. Pregnancy mentioned. Death of a spouse mentioned.
Simon slipped. Well. Simon slipped first. Johnny slipped up too. They ruined you, tugging you between them instead of reaching out for the other. You couldn’t fathom them caring. Even now.
If they cared about you they wouldn’t have touched you. You had been twenty-four and still so young. God, you were thirty now and still felt like you didn’t have a handle on life. Johnny had been twenty-nine and Simon thirty-three. Old enough to know better. At least to know better than you.
A series of coincidences led you to a one-year work visa and as an American transfer under the 141 task force. You handled paperwork mostly, and whatever didn’t involve paperwork meant dealing with your counterparts back in DC. You keep slightly funny hours to stay working on Washington time but that wasn’t unusual for anyone else who shared your building. The lights stayed at a low dim all day and night because three pm and three am felt a lot alike when rolling in off a job.
You were a nodding professional with Captain Price, Lieutenant Sanderson, and Sergeant Garrick. Sergeant MacTavish flirted with you. You accepted it with a wary eye and a cool confirmation of what he meant each time. Lieutenant Riley watched. He never spoke to you unless he needed something until the night in the bar. Six months had elapsed on your visa when Gaz, as he had asked you to call him, invited you to the bar with everyone. Seeing no reason to not say yes you had gone.
Off base and with a little buzz in your veins you let Johnny flirt. He insisted on his first name as he sidled up close to you halfway through your first drink. You’d always been wary of Johnny’s flirting. He’s attractive with all the muscles he maintains for work, the air of danger that lingers around him like cologne, and that barely visible scar near his lip. Problem is he knows it. Or at least he knows people react to him with pretty privilege. He makes you laugh. You don’t know why it surprises you, of course, he had to have a good sense of humor to deal with his job.
Lieutenant Riley was watching again. The prickling of your senses that tells you a predator is watching is what gave it away. Staying at the bar smiling at Johnny seemed safer until you had to pee. Passing your cup to the bartender with a quick ‘I’m done with this’ you excuse yourself from the bar and wend your way around the nearly touching tables to find the bathroom.
The narrow wood-paneled hallway had a single bulb shining down on you from a sconce high on the wall. Taking the time to dry your hands completely you pause when you see that the hallway has gone dark. Diffusing light from the main room reaches only so far into the darkness. Scanning you see nothing out of the ordinary and let the crack of light from the bathroom disappear as the door settles closed.
Running the tips of your fingers over the wall, the bumps telling the tales of so many decades of drunken bathroom trips, you touch something that is made of steel and flesh. Jumping back with a squeak you search with your gaze for anything.
“Why does Johnny like you?”
Riley. You let out the breath you had been holding. It’s Lieutenant Riley, not someone who would hurt you.
“You know sir I have no idea. Do you know?” You aimed your voice up.
“I might have an idea.” He surprises you with a touch to your neck. Trailing up to your jaw before dry lips brush against yours.
Stepping back you gave a startled exclamation.
“Ah…uh..Excuse me, Lieutenant, I think I need to go home.”
Skirting around him you flee like a hare that caught the sense of a hawk in the sky. When you retrieve your purse from the chair next to Johnny you find a beautiful woman draped across it talking him up.
“Sorry, I just need my bag,” you said drawing both of their attention to you.
“Ah, bonnie,” Johnny started sadly, “Heading out so soon?”
“Yeah um,” you scratch the back of your head, low near your hairline. “I need to head home.”
Standing he ignored the woman flirting with him entirely.
“Let me walk you home?” He steps too close to you but the body in a chair directly behind your ass keeps you from moving for more space.
Glancing to the storm brewing in the woman’s face you try and redirect him.
“I mean you looked like you were having such a good conversation I’m gonna go wait for a cab. Thank you for the offer though. I will see you at the office tomorrow.” With that you scooted past, unsure how you felt about the full body contact required.
Okay, well your lady bits knew exactly how they felt about it but you as a person? You were unsure. It felt like you had been dropped into a game that you didn’t know the rules of. It continued on like that, them pushing you and breaking your boundaries down one touch at a time until Simon pounded into you from behind in a supply closet. You crept closer to that temporary oblivion when Simon slipped.
A guttural moan washed over your back, Simon’s fingers tightening down on your hips.
“Johnny, oh Johnny!” He came then with Johnny’s name on his lips.
Any chance of an orgasm on your end dried up like a puddle on concrete in direct sun. Simon didn’t notice, pulling out and cleaning up the mess he had made of you before pulling you up and then your underwear. He gave your ass a light tap and planted a kiss at your temple before leaving you to the scent of cleaning supplies.
You worked the day in the eye of a storm. Mentally reaching out to touch your emotions you found only a torrent of fast-moving thoughts and feelings. You made it to your flat before the pressure of the eye wall faulted, crushing you under its weight. The next week you had a hard time eating, focusing, and doing anything outside of work really. Work had you hyper-vigilant always on watch for the spooky silent lieutenant that might try to pull you into a dark room. You didn’t think you could survive another encounter with Johnny’s name on his lips.
Oddly enough Johnny noticed the distress you seemed to be under and took to feeding you. He dropped off a snack at your desk every day and chatted with/at you until you ate it all before disappearing into the bowels of the building again. Three weeks after the Simon incident as you had taken to calling it in your head Johnny had pulled the same shit.
Flat on your back, knees nearly touching your ears he rammed into you. Pleasure crested for you as he could no longer hold on.
“Simon,” the breathy whisper betrayed him. He must have thought you to far gone in your orgasm to hear him.
They had to be fucking kidding you.
Would it hurt less if they were kidding you?
How the hell were you supposed to deal with this happening to you twice?
Johnny pulled out and flopped face down on his bed beside you.
Sitting up slowly you lay a hand on his shoulder.
“I’m gonna use the hall bathroom to go pee. I’ll probably be a minute.”
He grunts his acknowledgment and you set your exit strategy into action. Johnny knew you preferred to put your clothes back on for cuddles if you left the bed for any reason. Grabbing up all of your items you stepped from his bedroom hugging your clothes so tight the zipper of your jeans bit into the side of your breast. Peeing and washing your hands you dressed.
Stepping from the bathroom you called down the hall to Johnny.
“Do you have any cheese or nuts?”
“In the cabinet or the fridge,” came his return call.
Good. He wouldn’t think some odd sounds coming from this direction odd then. Tying your shoes on you open and shut a couple of cupboards and the fridge before rattling the dishes in the dishwasher grabbing your purse and leaving his flat.
Johnny didn’t come after you if he noticed your absence. Arriving home you noted the time. It was four pm on a Friday, Captain Price would still be at the office doing paperwork.
You called him as you started packing.
“Price.”
“Hi, Captain. I am just calling to let you know there has been a family emergency back home and I will be hopping on a plane tonight. I don’t know when this will be resolved. Can you send me any paperwork that I will need to complete so my work visa will close out as it should?”
“I’m sorry to hear about the family emergency, you let me know if you need anything. Your contract will run its course, including the agreed-upon pay, and conclude the day before your visa expires. The only thing you will need to worry about is talking to an accountant out here to figure out your share of taxes to be paid.”
Captain Price had always been like that with you, straightforward and honest. Unlike his men.
“That sounds reasonable and doable. If you have a recommendation of a firm I can reach out to that would be immensely helpful,” you stare at your shoe options, deciding which ones to leave behind since your bag was getting too full with the haphazard way you filled it.
“I don’t have one off the top of my head but I will ask around. Will this number still work?”
“No, this is a UK number that will probably stop working somewhere over the Atlantic. Can you send the info to my work email? I will be able to access that until my visa expires right?”
“That is correct. I will send it there. Safe travels and thank you for all of your hard work with us.”
“Of course, and thank you for being a good captain and a good man to work with.” You ended the call before he could think to question the sentence.
A call to the cab company came next. With the car ordered you left a voicemail for your landlord telling him the same information, family emergency feel free to rent the flat out now. It was a furnished option so nothing here that held an emotional attachment would fit in your suitcase.
The only thing you left behind was a framed photo of you standing with all the guys at a party face down on the table. Anything else you weren’t taking got bagged and sent to the bins.
You cried at the airport, and on the plane, and waiting for your sibling to come and save you from the airport. Telling someone that you had been coming would have been smart, but the only goal was to escape. When they arrived Ash gave you the biggest hug which started your crying all over again. You stayed with them and their partner as you tried to piece your life back together.
Taking the month you still received pay from England you walked the trails of the mountains you called home. They brought you so much peace, like hiding in the skirts of a trusted mother. When you reestablished care with your midwives you found out that your arm implant birth control needed changing, it was overdue. Standard procedure for a well-woman check included peeing in a cup.
“Are you aware that you are pregnant?”
The thin nurse midwife with wrinkles, a long dusty brown braid, and beaded necklaces ringing her neck looked at you from the computer. You must have gone white as a sheet because she reacted by having you lay on the floor, elevating your feet, and calling for assistance. Your uterus had been achy. That’s why you scheduled the appointment.
Pregnant? You weren’t nauseous or overly emotional, only a little tired and achy. This was nothing like being pregnant on TV.
Fuck. That meant Johnny or Simon had to be the father.
Did you even want to keep this pregnancy?
Another nurse with a kind face joined you and your nurse in the room, dragging in a portable ultrasound machine.
“Hi dear, this is a bit of standard procedure. There are a few reasons that a pregnancy test can pop positive. We want to rule out some of the harder-to-care-for options. Do you think we can help you stand and get on the bed?”
At your nod the nice nurses helped you to your feet and held on as you climbed onto the bed, laying back. They had you move your shirt and your pants and undies until the top of your pubes were visible. A grainy image appeared on the screen as the nurse glided the probe to and fro in the slimy gel.
“Alright, this here,” she pointed to a roundish object, “is your left ovary. That looks good. This will help me find your uterus.”
She slid down pressing slightly harder into you.
“Here is your uterus and there looks like one, two little embryos.” She pointed with her finger at each little dot.
“Twins?” you whisper, shocked and aghast.
“That’s what it looks like but things this early can change.” She slid the wand further, “Since we are here I am going to check out your right ovary as well and then we will get you cleaned up and discuss your options.”
The options included waiting, keeping, or a self-managed abortion which included a few prescriptions. They gave you a page of information for each option and sent you on your way with a follow-up appointment scheduled for a few weeks.
In shock, you called your best friend first. Larsen had become your best friend in the second grade and you two had stuck it out through thick and thin.
You told him everything. The entire story. No one else knew everything that had happened. Now Larsen did.
He offered to marry you.
You knew he was good for it. Larsen had never fallen in love, found the idea repulsive. The love you and he held for each other was deep and special, but not romantic. Marriage to Larsen would provide safety and stability, and the ability to change your name before Johnny or Simon could think to look for you. Even if you lost the pregnancy Larsen would be the best roommate and friend you could think of sharing this journey with.
“Yes, but let’s talk this over at dinner.”
The wedding had been a week later in front of a judge, with Ash as your witness and his mother as his.
Larsen never pressured you to make a decision about your pregnancy, simply talked through each option with you again and again until you decided you wanted to keep this gift. Simon and Johnny might have treated you as if they were evil but at least you stole something good from them in the process.
You had two boys growing inside you. To the growing delight of the specialty pregnancy team, you were a rare case of two separate fertilization babies. Distinct sacks and placentas meant two independent babies. Baby A was three weeks further in growth and development than baby B. This idea was confirmed when both boys arrived and looked nothing alike even covered in vernix.
Larsen had chuckled and chided the nurses in the halls for the odd looks you and the boys got. You had five amazing years with Larsen before he died of an aneurysm at work. He left you with a boatload of life insurance and two four-year-old boys who had just lost the only father they had ever known.
The boys knew Larsen didn’t help create them but they were so small it didn’t matter. He was their dad. The first thing you did after picking yourself up off the hospital chair was call and set up therapy for yourself and the boys. You would all need it.
Another two years passed, the boys started kindergarten and you started a cake decorating business from the house Larsen had bought you. You had paid it off with a portion of his death benefits. Everything was looking up. Despite the boys sometimes looking exactly like their genetic fathers, they were the most amazing thing in your life. Life was looking up until the house the bus stopped at went up for sale. Your neighbors mentioned an attractive-looking gay couple bought it and wouldn’t you know they had the best accents? One rang of rainy England and the other of Scotland. They were retired military and were excited for the change of pace this life would bring.
Nope, had to be a coincidence. Couldn’t be them. Why would they move to the States? Why your state of all places? No. Couldn’t be Simon and Johnny, you were still safe from their reach.
Except you weren’t.
They followed the boys home one day from the bus, shocked at seeing a child who looked so much like themselves. When you opened the door, royal icing dried to your cheek, you blanched and slammed the door shut slamming the deadbolt home.
The men that haunted your therapy sessions and the aches of your heart had found you. You and their boys.
Masterlist
#cod#fanfiction#cod x reader#ghost x reader#simon riley x reader#soap x reader#soap mactavish#john soap mactavish#soap cod#kyle gaz garrick#gary roach sanderson#captain john price#ghoap x reader#ghoap x you
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The trolley problem is an excellent representation of the difficult situation American voters find themselves in! However, can we consider what it would look like if we changed the viewpoint around, showing the voters who pull the lever to change the course to the one person? Would the representation in that scenario be celebrating, knowing that they took a life by participating in a fucked up system that forces them to do so? Wouldn't they be in a similar situation as the person who refuses to participate? "This isn't my fault, I took the moral high ground..." Do people who vote not recognize that they too are taking a moral high ground? Let's just keep in mind that the entire point of the trolley problem is to complicate the idea of a "moral high ground".
Like yes, I see that OP seems to have a utilitarian point of view of the situation in which driving the trolley is obligatory. However, we live in a society in which not all people are utilitarian and may take the equally valid stance of approaching the problem so (from Wikipedia): "moral wrongs are already in place in the situation, moving to another track constitutes a participation in the moral wrong, making one partially responsible for the death when otherwise no one would be responsible. An opponent of action may also point to the incommensurability of human lives."
For the record, I voted, and I'm glad I did, and I am of the opinion that people should vote. But I'm tired of the way people dismiss the opinions of those who have elected to not vote, especially when these people still promote social good. I'm tired of the flattening of their perspective just because those with a utilitarian point of view can't comprehend that perspectives outside of their world view are valid and should be respected, even when we find them to be controversial (not saying this for Trump voters; fuck Trump voters).
The people who vote are taking as much of a moral stance as those who chose not to vote, and both must suffer the consequences of the situation they find themselves in. The people who vote are just as idealistic as the people who choose not to vote. The people who vote are just as realistic about the situation as those who chose not to vote. Americans are stuck in an incredibly tricky moral dilemma. This is why the trolley problem has been of fierce debate for over half a century.
All y'all fuckers when you say you ain't gonna vote
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Maybe in Another Universe, You're Still the Man I Love: Viktor x Reader
Summary: You get sent to the same alternate timeline with Ekko and Heimerdinger, and you find out just how wonderful your life could've been.
Words: 2.1k
Author's Notes: Yeah so that finale sent me into deep grief and writing is the only way I can heal I fear. I hope you enjoy this interpretation of what Viktor could be doing in the alternate timeline.
“Are you alright, darling?”
Your vision comes into focus, though your head is still pounding. You’re extremely nauseous, feeling like your body is not your own as you become aware of the all-too-familiar voice that just spoke to you.
You’re sitting on a desk in an Academy classroom, journals and various papers surrounding you. The sun is shining through the windows, cascading gold onto the other desks and tables. It’s a peaceful, simple sight. Something that feels so wrong for precisely that reason.
“I don’t have another class for a while, you can talk to me,” Viktor says, brushing his fingers against your face. “Care to tell me why you’re looking at me like that?”
You suppose you look like you’ve seen a ghost, which isn’t so far from the truth. You must be dreaming—maybe hallucinating—anything to explain how this isn’t real.
“I…” you start, failing to find the words to say.
-
You storm into the lab, locking your eyes on the empty hexcore cocoon, then at Jayce.
“Where the fuck is he?”
“I don’t know!” Jayce fires back at you, clearly just as distraught as you are. “He woke up and told me he needed to leave me and this place. I have no idea where he went!”
“Why didn’t you follow him?” you scream, your mind spinning. Who knows how the hexcore changed him, he could literally be anywhere.
“He didn’t want me to! What don’t you understand?” Jayce slumps back into his chair, his face in his hands. As soon as he notices a tear fall down your cheek, his tone softens. “Look, I...we both know he’s been different since he started messing with the hexcore. He had told me to destroy it...but I couldn’t. And now he’s even more different. I’m so sorry,”
“Jayce…” you walk towards him. “I’m not blaming you for anything that’s happened. He’s been pushing both of us away for a long time. I guess...I just thought maybe when he woke up he’d love me again like he used to. Did he even ask about me?”
Jayce shakes his head, and your heart sinks even further.
-
“I think I’m dreaming,” you finally say, and Viktor tilts his head. “This...this isn’t real. We’re not like this, we haven’t been like this in a long time. You’re not...what are you here, a professor?”
He cups your face and kisses your forehead, “Darling, I don’t think you’ve been getting enough sleep, you’re talking nonsense,”
“No, no, no,” you jump off the desk and pace around the room. “If this isn’t a dream, then where am I? Some sort of other reality?”
“You mean to say you believe...this is not your world?” Viktor takes in your words intently.
“Well in my world, you fell out of love with me in favor of your work, and then you nearly died and got severely mutated by the hexcore. So yeah, I’d say things are pretty different,”
He raises an eyebrow, “Hex...core?”
“You don’t have that here?”
“Seemingly not,”
You sigh, perching yourself back on the desk, “You don’t believe me, do you?”
“No, I...I have theorized the possibility of alternate universes before, but I never thought I would come face to face with it in my lifetime,” he starts writing on the wall chalkboard. “I see no reason not to believe you. After all, my wife of this universe would probably not be saying these things,”
“We’re married?”
“Of course. Now tell me, what else is different in your universe?”
-
You’ve tried to find him everywhere—going all the secret places the two of you would go in the past, and asking people if they’ve seen him both topside and bottom. There’s no signs, not even a clue. He doesn’t want to be found.
You make your way back to Jayce’s lab, surprised to see Heimerdinger and a young man you don’t recognize with him. They fill you in on their concern about wild runes showing up around the city, and their plan to check on the hexgates. You’re desperate for anything to get your mind off Viktor, so you go along with them.
You’ve never been to the source of the hexgates before, and it’s even more grand than you imagined. One thing could go wrong and the entire thing would explode, but it’s precisely the potential of destruction that makes it all the more fascinating.
That is, until it becomes entirely unpredictable.
Your surroundings change at the blink of an eye—warped visuals and sounds you can’t make out. You scream for the others, but no one can hear.
-
You do your best to describe all the important events and details of your timeline, while Viktor takes notes on the chalkboard and compares what you say to his timeline. He seems particularly interested in his inventions in your timeline, and his partnership with Jayce—who’s no longer alive in his timeline.
“He died in an explosion here at the academy several years ago, it was a tragic accident that also killed a young girl from the undercity. He was a friend and a brilliant mind,” he pauses. “We...actually named our son after him.”
Your eyes widen, overwhelmed by this possibility of what could’ve been, “We have a son?”
“We do. And he’s perfect,” Viktor smiles softly. “You really are from a different time, aren’t you?”
You nod, trying to hold back tears. Why does this reality’s version of you get to be happy? Why does this Viktor get to dodge corruption and the hands of hubris?
Viktor gazes once again on the chalkboard notes, looking for patterns and causes for the differences in your timelines. Would he have reached the same fate if Jayce was still alive? What caused the Undercity to heal and thrive in his timeline but not in yours? Was this hextech you speak of really so destructive?
You are the same person he fell in love with, there’s no doubt in his mind about that, but you’ve been significantly more hurt than the Y/N he knows.
He steps close to you again, wiping the tears from your face and pulling you into him, “I’m so sorry your version of me has taken a different path.”
You sob into his chest, gripping his clothes. He runs his fingers through your hair and rubs your back, soothing you as if you’re his own.
But you’re not his. This isn’t your life.
You pull away, taking a deep breath, “As much as I want to stay here, I can’t keep taking over the consciousness of the me in this world. I need to find the others,”
“I don’t know if it’s possible for you to get back,” he says. “You say you got here through hextech, and that was never invented here.”
“We’ll find a way,” you run to the window, looking out to get a gauge of where you are. Heimerdinger might have landed somewhere here in the Academy too, and Ekko probably went back to the Undercity. But Jayce—if he’s dead in this universe—where would he be?
“Before you go,” Viktor places a hand on your shoulder. “Would you like to meet our son?”
Anxiety washes over you, your body going numb from the prospect. Would it only hurt you more to see a life that you could’ve created?
“Don’t you have more classes to teach, professor?” you smile, trying to turn your nervousness into something lighthearted.
“I’ll cancel for today. It’s about the time you usually pick him up from school anyway,”
He grabs his cane with one hand and takes your hand with the other, posting a quick note on his door as you leave.
-
You sit on a bench outside the elementary school, your heart pounding. This child is going to run out that building any minute, eager to see the mother he’s always known.
But you’re not her. You didn’t carry him, birth him, or raise him. You don’t have the same memories and experiences.
But you must pretend that you do.
You know which one he is immediately. He’s a perfect combination of yours and Viktor’s features, just like you’d imagined. His smile is contagious, and he wastes no time jumping into your arms.
“Look what I made at school today, Mommy!” he puts a crafty contraption in front of your face, a colorful collection of sticks and paper glued together.
“That’s so creative, honey, I love it,” but your attention is solely focused on him, his sweet face glowing with pride and joy.
“Quite the little inventor, aren’t you?” Viktor applauds him. “What else did you learn today?”
“We did reading and spelling. I can spell family now. F-A-M-I-L-E!”
“Close, sweetheart. There’s a ‘Y’ at the end,” you laugh,
“Are you sure about that?” he says, wincing his adorable face in thought. “Whatever. I learned how to spell brother and sister too, but I don’t have any of those. How do I get one of those?”
Viktor chuckles, “I’ll talk about it with your Mommy, how about that?”
“Okay!” he jumps up and starts walking home with the two of you.
-
What if I stayed? You wonder.
You’re playing with your son on the living room floor, with toys mostly made by Viktor himself. The house is small but cozy, a home you wish was really yours. What if you just stay in this dream reality forever?
What if you never find the others? What if there really is no way to get back?
But no, that wouldn’t be fair to the you of this reality. She’s the one who has this life, not you. Besides, Viktor and his son deserve their wife and mother back.
You hear a knock on the door, and Viktor goes to open it.
“Oh, Viktor, it is so good to see you.”
Your head swivels instantly towards the yordle in the entryway, “Heimerdinger! You found me!” you join Viktor at the door, “Where’s Ekko and Jayce?”
“I have not found Jayce as of yet, but I did find Ekko and sent him back to his timeline about a week ago. We found some hextech fragments and were able to use them to jump through time and space.”
“So...I can get home too?”
“As soon as you’re ready. We built the machine in a young girl’s lab in the Undercity,” he looks between you, then Viktor, and finally your son. His attitude of urgency dissipates as he begins to understand. “But...I could not blame you if you want to stay longer.”
Your son Jayce comes running to join you, grabbing onto your leg, “Who’s this guy, Mommy?”
“This is Professor Heimerdinger, he used to work at the Academy,” you pat his head, “Your dad used to be his assistant.”
“I’m sure you already have a brilliant mind, my boy,” Heimerdinger says. “Your parents must be proud.”
Little Jayce giggles.
“Actually, I would very much like to see this new invention you’ve built, Professor,” Viktor speaks up. “I’m now quite intrigued by the prospect of other universes.”
“I have no rule against you observing, Viktor, but I’m sure you understand I must destroy it after we all get back. It is too dangerous to be left here unsupervised,” Heimerdinger’s tone becomes more serious. “I’m sure Y/N has told you of the destruction hextech caused in our universe, especially to you.”
“Of course, Professor. I understand.”
-
You’ve never seen the Undercity look this beautiful.
It seems that the other version of you comes here often, so many people wave to you and little Jayce automatically runs off with some kids his age to play.
You meet a blue-haired young lady named Powder, who helped Heimerdinger and Ekko in their experiments. She looks so familiar to you, but you can’t place where you’ve seen her in your reality.
Heimerdinger explains how it works, and both you and Viktor listen intently. With everything up and running, you could go back this instant.
The pull to go back is strong, like an obligation to return to your rightful place in the universe. But the pull to stay is equally strong, as you gaze into your husband’s beautiful amber eyes that you want to find solace in forever.
“It’s your choice, my love,” Viktor says, as if reading your mind.
“I know I need to go back…” you exhale, tears welling in your eyes once again. “But I don’t know what I’m going back to,”
“I don’t know either,” he caresses your face, “But I do know you are strong in every universe,”
“I’m not,” you shake your head, “Not without you.”
“Don’t say that,” his thumbs smooth across your cheeks.
You nod, turning towards the device.
“Could you…could you kiss me one last time?” you ask.
Viktor wastes no time honoring your request, crashing his lips to yours with lasting passion. He pulls away only as you back into the circle, leaving you with one last affectionate whisper:
“I’m so fortunate to have met another version of you, my love.”
#arcane x reader#viktor arcane x reader#machine herald x reader#arcane#viktor arcane#machine herald#fem reader
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Look, I know there's probably a good use for the term among sociologists and etc... but every single time I've run into someone using the phrase "imperial core", they are using it either to dismiss the suffering of people in the US bc other people have it worse, or they are actively celebrating that the US is experiencing something shitty that developing countries regularly have to deal with.
...either way, my main experience with the term is "I either don't care or actively celebrate when people suffer because they are privileged compared to those in third world countries", and my god, I hate them so much.
#I don't not care about people outside of me!#but it's not fucking weird to be more distressed by the things that are happening near me and in my life#any time someone's said 'imperial core' in my comments they are basically going 'did you know there are people starving in africa?'#YEAH I DON'T LIKE THAT EITHER#HOWEVER I AM TALKING ABOUT WHAT IS HAPPENING TO ME AND MY FRIENDS#WHY DO I NEED TO GIVE A DISCLAIMER ABOUT THIS
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critical role ships as hozier songs
vax / keyleth : francesca
percy / vex : work song
pike / scanlan : foreigner's god
fjord / jester : nobody
beau / yasha : as it was
caleb / essek : from eden
imogen / laudna : NFWMB
orym / dorian : like real people do
ashton / fearne : dinner & diatribes
specific lyrics that i feel like represent the pairings under the cut!
vax / keyleth : francesca
how could you think, darling, i'd scare so easily?
my life was a storm, since i was born, how could i fear any hurricane?
if i could hold you for a minute, darling, i'd go through it again
it was too soon, when that part of you was ripped away
i would not change it each time, heaven is not fit to house a love like you and i
percy / vex : work song
when my time comes around, lay me gently in the cold dark earth, no grave can hold my body down, i'll crawl home to her
and i was burning up a fever, i didn't care much how long i lived
but i swear, i thought i dreamed her, she never asked me once about the wrong i did
if the lord don't forgive me, i'd still have my baby and my babe would have me
in the low lamplight, i was free, heaven and hell were words to me
pike / scanlan : foreigner's god
she moved with shameless wonder, the perfect creature rarely seen
her eyes look sharp and steady into the empty parts of me
wondering who i copy, mustering some tender charm
breaking if i try conveying, the broken love i make to her
fjord / jester : nobody
i'd be appalled if i saw you ever try to be a saint, i wouldn't fall for someone i thought couldn't misbehave
but i've had no love like your love from nobody
if i had the choice between hearing either noise, the excitement of a thousand, or the soothing of your voice
and on the other side, why should we deny the truth? we could have less to worry about, honey, i won't lie to you
beau / yasha : as it was
and in a few days i will be there, love, whatever here that's left of me is yours, just as it was
the lights were as bright as my baby, but your love was unmoved
tell me if, somehow, some of it remains, how long you would wait for me and how long i've been away
the shape that i'm in now, your shape in the doorway, make your good love known to me or just tell me about your day
and the nights were as dark as my baby, and half as beautiful too
caleb / essek : from eden
there's something tragic about you, something so magic about you, don't you agree?
honey, you're familiar like my mirror years ago
innocence died screaming, honey, ask me, i should know
there's something broken about this, but i might be hoping about this
a rope in hand for your other man to hang from a tree
imogen / laudna : NFWMB
give your heart and soul to charity, cause the rest of you, the best of you, honey, belongs to me
ain't it a gentle sound, the rolling in the graves?
if i was born as a blackthorn tree, i'd wanna be felled by you, held by you, fuel the pyre of your enemies
ain't it the life of you, your lightning of the blaze?
orym / dorian : like real people do
i will not ask you where you came from, i will not ask and neither should you
i know that look, dear, eyes always seeking, was there in someone that dug long ago
honey, just put your sweet lips on my lips, we should just kiss like real people do
ashton / fearne : dinner & diatribes
i knew well from our first hookup, the look of mischief in your eyes
your friends are a fate that befell me, hell is the talking type, i'd suffer hell if you'd tell me what you'd do to me tonight
honey, i laugh when it sinks in, a pillar i am, upright
now that the evening is slowing, now that the end's in sight, honey, it's easier knowing what you'd do to me tonight
oh, let there be hotel complaints and grievances raised and that kind of love
#for simplicity i only did pc romances that are canon and requited#so like yes beau and caleb both had crushes on jester but they had official relationships with other people#zero shade to any non canon ships i am a proud multishipper these were just my thoughts#critical role#vox machina#mighty nein#bells hells#vaxleth#percahlia#pikelan#fjorester#beauyasha#shadowgast#imodna#dorym#callowmoore#keyleth#keyleth of the air ashari#vax'ildan#percy de rolo#vex'ahlia#scanlan shorthalt#pike trickfoot#fjord stone#jester lavorre#beau lionett#yasha nydoorin#caleb widogast#essek thelyss#imogen temult
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Not really sure what incongruous means so I'll look it up after but it does feel like as i get older life gets more complex theres more things i understand now that sure i knew about them before but not in great detail but it feels like I've become so fucking complex as a person that if i tried to explain what i actually think and feel it would just overwhelm a person so i try and section myself off into pieces and just use different parts of me with different situations or people and it may just be because ive spent most of my time these past 2 almost 3 years now alone with nothing to do but think and figure myself out that when im asked what i think about something slightly personal its kinda hard to say it just got lost in my head somewhere and that whatever i think will change at a moments notice like i can bring up memories of lots of things and remember nostalgic times but i spent so long thinking about why i feel a certain way or what makes me feel a certain way in order to try and get a better hold of myself that ive kinda forgotten alot of my past like so many memories that i made are just gone because remembering them made me feel a way i dont want to feel like i remember realizing the beginning of 6th grade that i had completely forgotten 5th grade and the reason why was because that time i had was so nice yet not at the same time my brain just frogot because it didn't want a reminder of how good yet not something can be like great teachers who for the first time ever actually seemed to care as far as i could tell class mates who were generally friendly and occasionally checked on me if i seemed off yet i felt so alone cause nobody there really seemed like a real friend like the friends i had before who even when we were in deep trouble wouldn't rat me out and would stick with me who genuinely cared and missed me if i was sick getting older and not having anyone to socialize with for really formative years off my life has made understand those really old dudes who are nice and always up to make friends but just seem extra lonely for some reason despite knowing so many people i guess technically being that alone did hurt me but i kinda learned that im just not alone ever when im outside theres always some squirrels birds or plants nearby that make it more lively its why ive grown so fond of certain forested spots they are always lively and it feels like hanging out with all my friends its also why i enjoy making things like with metal or wood stone or even writing and painting those things feel alive in a way same with music and having time to think so much has made me reflect and realize that no day is the same and even when something changes something else stays the same or gos back to how it was in a weird cycle like growing but remembering where you were growing older for me anyways is like gaining more skills and more knowledge not just on the stuff around me but on myself too obviously people change sometimes pretty quickly too but getting older makes you learn more about yourself which duh that how life works but still it feels weird to be aware of it at 17 when it feels like i should still be trying to figure out my favorite youtuber or something not contemplate who i am as a person and what makes me feel the way i do but its a good kind of weird and theres always more to learn and find so i still have plenty of room to learn more about myself still not being able to really fully let a person know you kinda sucks but to be fair that is a rather special thing its also nice being able to put into words why i feel a certain way so that i can actually explain myself instead of just going quiet cause i dont know myself that well still kinda funny to know your own problems but not be able to jusy fix them when you know its a very deep problem even when it seems surface level and damn i got kinda personal there woops also just noticed that im shaking so might be overwhelmed remembering 5th grade which is probably why i frogot it or at least thought i did
anybody else feel that being human is like being a long-time syndicated cartoon character watching the world get more complex while your own design stays the same until youre incongruous with the reality around you??
#Anyway im gonna see if i can calm down and mabye froget 5th grade again#not remembering stuff can hurt sometimes so dont try it i already fucked up learn fro. my mistakes
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Clingy D wasn't something I knew I needed. For research purposes, how would that fare though, author
the texas heat clung to D as they sat on the back porch of their grandfather’s old farm. the air smelled of earth and sunburnt grass, a scent that had grown oddly comforting in the months since they’d moved back.
the farm was quiet now, save for the low hum of cicadas and the occasional bark of a stray dog wandering by the fence. the peacefulness suited D—most days. but tonight, it was unbearable.
their phone sat on the wooden table in front of them, face down like it was a guilty party. they’d told themself they weren’t going to look at it anymore.
just leave it, rook, calm down.
stop being so needy, rook.
get your shit together, rook.
you’re always the recurring car crash, rook, the common denominator.
but their eyes flickered toward the phone anyway.
the truth sat under their ribs like a splinter: it had been three days since you’d texted anything more than a brief, polite response to a link they’d sent, and weeks since you’d called. three days of D’s mind running circles around itself, spiraling into every worst-case scenario it could conjure. and they were losing their grip. their fingers tapped restlessly on the armrest of the chair, their boot scuffing against the railing.
maybe you’re busy, they told themself for the fiftieth time that evening. new york is a big place. MBA programs are hard. you’ve got new friends now, fancy urbane friends who wear suits and drink wine like it’s water. you don’t have time to call your idiot partner who still wants to live in their old farmhouse down south and smells like hay and diesel these days.
that last thought stung, and D flinched like they’d spoken it aloud.
they picked up their phone and stared at the screen, willing your name to appear. a new message. a missed call. anything. they’d tried calling you twice yesterday but hung up before it even rang.
the phone buzzed suddenly in their hand, cutting through the peacefulness like a blade. D jumped, nearly dropping it in their haste to answer.
“hey,” they said, too quickly, the word coming out rough and broken, betraying how much they’d been waiting for this. they winced at their own pathetic eagerness.
“hi,” you replied. your voice was warm but tinged with something D couldn’t quite place. it wasn’t joy.
there was a pause, one of those long, awkward ones that stretched out like a wound neither of you wanted to clean out.
“why haven’t you replied to my texts?” you asked finally. your tone was light, sure, but the edge was unmistakable.
D blinked, thrown off-guard. “why haven’t you called me?”
the words left their mouth before they could stop them, sharper than intended, spilling out like blood from a clean incision. the silence on your end was deafening.
“excuse me?” you said after a moment, your voice now tight.
D pushed on, reckless now, the spiraling in their chest too loud to ignore.
“it’s been weeks,” they said, their voice rising despite themself. “weeks since you actually picked up the phone to call me. i’m supposed to be okay with a couple of dry texts here and there? a couple of ‘how are yous’ like you’re checking in on a goddamn houseplant? what am i even supposed to do with that? do you even want to talk to me anymore?”
“of course i want to talk to you!” you snapped, louder this time, frustration apparent in your tone. “but you’ve been so distant during our texts. i didn’t know if you even wanted to hear from me if you got too busy with the farm renovations.”
“distant?” D barked out a laugh, harsh and humorless. “i’m not the one out there living some shiny new life in new york city with shiny new friends. don’t talk to me about being distant when you’re the one who left!”
“oh wow, so it’s my fault now?”
“isn’t it?”
the words hung between you like a noose, both of you too angry to let go and too hurt to say anything else.
“this isn’t fair,” you said finally, your voice breaking just slightly, and D hated that they heard it, hated that they caused it. “you don’t get to put this all on me. you knew what this was going to be like. you knew it would be hard. you could’ve just come with me until renovations were done for the farm. you’re the one who insisted on supervising everything to stay in that stupid place.”
“don’t fucking call the farm stupid,” D shot back, their voice trembling now, but they couldn’t stop. “besides, i’m here, aren’t i? waiting by the damn phone every night like some... some pathetic—” they couldn’t finish the sentence.
“then maybe stop waiting!” you yelled, having had enough of it. “if this is so hard for you, maybe you should’ve just come here with me!”
the line went dead.
D stared at the phone in their hand, unblinking, as though willing it to come back to life. the silence that followed was heavier than the summer heat, heavier than anything they’d ever known.
they stood up abruptly, the chair screeching against the porch, and paced back and forth like a caged animal.
“unbelievable,” they muttered under their breath, the anger bubbling up again. “they hang up on me? after all this? after—”
the thing about D was that they wouldn’t—couldn’t—express their emotions in words a lot of the time. sure, they could write about it, but writing about it was different than actually saying it. so these emotions were usually spelled out in other ways.
a bloody fist. a slow song. a naked dance.
but this time, the anger burned out as quickly as it came, leaving behind nothing but the ache. the ache they always carried, the one they could never name but always felt. they sank back into the chair, burying their face in their hands.
you’re going to lose them, a small voice whispered in the back of their mind, insidious and cruel. you’re going to push them away forever. they’ve grown tired of you because you’re too much. you’re always too much, rook.
the thought made them sicker than a glass of cheap liquor.
D picked up their phone again, their thumb hovering over your name in the call log. they could call you back. they could apologize. they could beg.
they pictured you in new york, surrounded by skyscrapers and lights, people who had never set foot on a farm in their life and who probably never will. they imagined themself there, awkward and out of place, fumbling with subway cards with their doc martens too scuffed, their drawl too thick and alien.
they never belonged in san francisco. they never belonged in new haven. they’d never belong in new york city.
but they’d go. if you asked, they’d go in a heartbeat. they’d go and make themself fit into your world if that’s what you wanted. they’d camouflage themself all over again like they did in california and connecticut. even if they hated it, they’d still try.
or maybe you could come back. just for a little while. they’d show you the stars again, the ones you couldn’t see in the ever-polluted cities. they’d hold you close and tell you they loved you, over and over, until you believed it.
but for now, they’d wait by the phone like dogs waited for their owners on the front porch—all day, and then the next.
here’s the pt. 2 to this.
#they think they’re a big bad wolf but they’re still a puppy#writing angsts are now second nature to me atp#p.s. this scenario may or may not happen in book 2 or 3 🫢#if: the ballad of the young gods#interactive fiction#interactive novel#interactive story#twine wip#ro: d diaconu#ro scenarios
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