#go write fanfic
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I had to look something up about Stiles. I usually use the teen-wolf-pack wiki since it has more information than the others ones. Some St*dia fans have completely edited both Stiles’s and Lydia’s pages to not only erase their canon breakup, but are deliberately writing in misinformation (i.e. they’re married). I had to spend 10 minutes correcting what I could. These are the same people saying Stereks are crazy and delusional and are just looking for things to fit the ship’s narrative, yet I’ve never seen a Sterek or a Steter or a Stalia or a Sciles or any other ship add wrong information because they’re upset their ship isn’t canon
#what is happening?#please#go read fanfic#go write fanfic#you make your experience what you want it to be#but you can't lie because you don't like what happened#anti stydia#just in case
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this is just my opinion but i think any good media needs obsession behind it. it needs passion, the kind of passion that's no longer "gentle scented candle" and is now "oh shit the house caught on fire". it needs a creator that's biting the floorboards and gnawing the story off their skin. creators are supposed to be wild animals. they are supposed to want to tell a story with the ferocity of eating a good stone fruit while standing over the sink. the same protective, strange instinct as being 7 and making mud potions in pink teacups: you gotta get weird with it.
good media needs unhinged, googling-at-midnight kind of energy. it needs "what kind of seams are invented on this planet" energy and "im just gonna trust the audience to roll with me about this" energy. it needs one person (at least) screaming into the void with so much drive and energy that it forces the story to be real.
sometimes people are baffled when fanfic has some stunning jaw-dropping tattoo-it-on-you lines. and i'm like - well, i don't go here, but that makes sense to me. of fucking course people who have this amount of passion are going to create something good. they moved from a place of genuine love and enjoyment.
so yeah, duh! saturday cartoons have banger lines. random street art is sometimes the most precious heart-wrenching shit you've ever seen. someone singing on tiktok ends up creating your next favorite song. youtubers are giving us 5 hours of carefully researched content. all of this is the impossible equation to latestage capitalism. like, you can't force something to be good. AI cannot make it good. no amount of focus-group testing or market research. what makes a story worth listening to is that someone cares so much about telling it - through dance, art, music, whatever it takes - that they are just a little unhinged about it.
one time my friend told me he stayed up all night researching how many ways there are to peel an orange. he wrote me a poem that made me cry on public transportation. the love came through it like pith, you know? the words all came apart in my hands. it tasted like breakfast.
#warm up#writeblr#actually this is because again i don't go here#i don't read/write fanfic but i have nothing but respect for my troops#but i also have never played minecraft. im sorry. please ask me any question about pokemon tho i love that shit#anyway#out of some banal and thoughtless curiosity i watched the minecraft movie trailer#and again i know nothing about minecraft. i am aware im in an endangered population#but im watching this going: this is so fucking.... BAD#there is NO LOVE in it!#like if someone who has NO history in minecraft watches that and is like - ohhh this is soulless#WHO IS THE AUDIENCE????#ppl who love minecraft are gonna hate it!!!#at some point it's the ''mean girls musical movie'' problem --#some people will always hate the premise of what you're doing and some people will love it#make it for the ppl who love it#and usually that somewhat convinces the haters to like. chill enough to TRY it . bc it IS good#but when you try to make it for the haters..... nobody likes it. it doesn't have passion. energy. footwork#which is a small way of saying a big thing: if you love something. fucking make it and assume someone will love it too.#i love u . be brave . be bold. be in boston and come to my reading#where i wrote a really weird fucked up little book.#love u love u love u etc
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IS IT CASUAL NOW?
pairing: vi x fem!reader word count: 14.6k summary: you and vi are both tired of complicated relationships so try the whole friends-with-benefits thing....and maybe forget the whole point of your arrangement in the first place. warning: lesbian situationships (there is so much angst and yearning), brief mention of (internalized) homophobia and struggles with addiction....but mostly cheesy domestic fluff and smut [oral (vi receiving), fingering (both receiving), thigh riding, slight bondage play, switch!vi has my heart] (18+) ! a/n: merry (belated oops) xmas girls and gays <33 i've probably spent way too much time on this but it's my BABY....kinda based on leighton and alicia's plotline in s1 of sex lives of college girls and ofc casual by chappell roan (there are many other chappell references throughout too hehe). also yes i made a mini playlist that consists of the songs that i think reflect this fic's sun, moon, and rising signs....pls enjoy and happy holidays !!!
♪: "angel baby" by troye sivan (sun); "pretty girl" by hayley kiyoko (moon); "casual" by chappell roan (rising)
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“not even one week into the new academic year, violet rose atlas, captain of the varsity soccer team, has been suspended from gameplay due to recent unsportsman-like behavior, sentenced to 100 hours of community service, and banned from the local lesbian bar.”
mel removes her eyes from the screen to raise an eyebrow at you. you just shrug and take a sip of your coffee. you glance over at the clock on the wall.
11:09am.
“to top it all off, she’s late,” you declare, trying your best to hide the anticipation simmering in your stomach.
“what’s your deal, anyways? you totally flirt with her whenever she’s at the bar. not even we get that good of service,” gert points out. they’re searching through a stack of cd’s and cassette tapes for something to play.
“that was before.”
you walk over to sit next to gert, taking it upon yourself to choose the music. you settle on jagged little pill; alanis morrissette’s lush voice is a welcomed addition to your conversation.
“our funding is at risk,” you explain. “it’s like the dean assigned her to us because she knew it would end terribly and the board would have an excuse to finally cut us loose.”
“if they need an excuse, they’ll find one,” gert grumbles.
you shrug. “i just think violet is bad news, which is something i’d prefer we avoid..”
“the article does say that she punched maddie nolan in the face during an exhibition game against the piltover knights.”
“see? bad news. literally.”
“well, i think we lucked out,” sky gushes, though her focus remains on finishing her current project. she’s crocheting so fast that you only catch glimpses of her sparkly pink fingernails. you’re sure she’ll be done with this blanket before violet shows up. if she even bothers to show up. “the yellowjackets might’ve lost their captain, but we get to spend quality time with the hottest butch on campus.”
“whatever,” you sigh, though you don’t disagree with that description. you check the clock again — 11:11am — and settle against the worn couch. “since we have the time — mel, why don’t you read our horoscopes? i’m itching to see what the universe has in store for us today.”
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
vi spent the better part of last night crying and getting wasted in her bathtub with cheap dye burning into her scalp.
she just couldn’t stand the memory of caitlyn kiramman’s perfectly manicured nails running through her formerly pink locks as they kissed, tugging on vi’s hair to bring her closer —
enough. fucking pull yourself together.
cait’s moved on, that much is clear, with someone more like her. someone whose last name is on buildings all around the university of piltover’s campus.
so far, no amount of bar fights or red cards or late nights in some random girl’s bed seem to mend the heart that caitlyn shattered to pieces, but vi doesn’t give up easy.
soon enough, she’ll be back on the field, leading the yellowjackets to victory at nationals; she’ll finish all her classes, graduate with honors and have a great plan for an even greater future; all while having amazing, mind-blowing sex that won’t lead to serious heartbreak.
relationships are overrated, anyways.
the first step in this plan: spending 100 hours with a bunch of angry, bra-burning lesbians.
maybe vi will fit right in.
so, vi walks into her community service assignment with a wicked migraine and hands that look like lady macbeth plotted to murder an oil spill, but with her usual confident swagger nonetheless, as conversation echoes down the hallway.
“according to your rising, there will be a much needed spark in your romantic life. my guess is a fire sign is gonna sweep you off your feet.”
another voice chimes in, a gentle rumble. “could that be your sweet jules?”
“i’ve never asked about her chart,” an achingly familiar voice replies. it brings back memories of dizzying lights and strong whiskey coursing through her blood, but something else, too. a sky full of stars and too-sweet alcohol on her tongue. “paula was a fire sign, though, and that blew up in my face.”
“paula was a walking red flag.”
“yeah, well, apparently red’s my favorite color.”
“maybe that was just the heartbreak you needed to bring passion back into your life. do you feel that with jules?”
“i don’t know — maybe? we haven’t had sex yet.”
“passion isn’t just about sex, you know —”
“gert, i love you, but i cannot handle a sex therapy session right now.”
someone else giggles, bright and bubbly. “hm, i wonder what sign our pink-haired hottie is.”
vi clears her throat to announce her arrival, leaning against the doorway.
everyone turns to look at her then, with varying degrees of shock, and vi feels like she’s just walked into an after midnight roommate vent session.
she isn’t sure what she expected the space to look like, but zaun university’s women’s centre is well-lived in, defined by a sort of organized chaos. each wall is covered in posters and collages, multicolored flags and fairy lights; there’s a shelf in the corner with assorted trinkets and books piled high, a table next to it with baskets of condoms, pads, and tampons and informational pamphlets, and a door in the opposite corner, slightly ajar. a vintage boombox placed on the coffee table plays 90s alt rock, circled by mismatched seating with patterned blankets and brightly colored pillows strewn about.
someone with dark lipstick and an eyebrow piercing is drawing on their converse; a dark brunette wearing glasses is draping a blanket over the arm of a couch; another person is scrolling on their laptop, a gold necklace glittering on their collarbones.
vi’s attention is stuck on you, though, the origin of the aforementioned familiar voice: the very hot bartender from sappho’s, where vi happened to be kicked out of not even 72 hours prior.
you’re wearing a vintage wonder woman t-shirt tucked into faded blue jeans with a carabiner clipped to a belt loop. the sleeves of your shirt are rolled up, displaying your array of tattoos — vi’s already decided that her favorites are joan of arc holding her sword, a pomegranate that’s been cracked open, and lyrics from bikini kill’s ‘rebel girl’ (which admittedly, vi had to look up when she first saw). it’s everything vi’s booze-soaked brain had apparently memorized after many nights of staring at you across the bar counter, licking up whatever honeyed flirtations you’d spill from your lips. vi always noticed your hands, too: the many rings you’ve stacked on your fingers, the lavender sprig sprouting from your middle finger and venus symbol etched onto your wrist, the nails that are always clipped short and painted black.
one of those nails is tapping anxiously on your coffee mug, which has a picture of hayley kiyoko as lesbian jesus.
“pink-haired hottie, reporting for duty. though, i might need a new nickname.” vi grins; you roll your eyes. “i’m an aries, by the way.”
“good to know.” the brunette winks not-so-subtly in your direction before walking towards vi and extending a hand, gold bangles clinking together at the motion. “i’m sky, she/her. we had electromagnetic theory together last spring. it’s lovely to officially meet you.”
vi makes a big show of leaning down and kissing sky’s hand.
“nice to meet you, too, sweetheart.”
“such a gentleman,” sky giggles and leads vi to the patchwork couch. she curls up like a cat, and vi follows suit — the couch is cloud soft, and vi tries not to sink into the cushions. “i’m our supplies and communications coordinator.” she turns away from vi to look around the room. “okay, that’s my intro. who’s next?”
the person with an eyebrow piercing nods at vi, a sort of effortless greeting. “gert, they/them.” they snap the sharpie shut after writing ‘the future is intersectional’ on the tip of their toe. “i curate and design our newsletter, the black rose. i’m also in a band —”
“the sirens of zaun. yeah, i recognize you. you’ve played a few gigs at sappho’s.”
vi looks at you pointedly, and you take this as your cue to disappear behind the door, which appears to lead into some sort of office.
gert seems pleased, though. “then you might also recognize our lead singer….”
the person with the gold necklace, who vi does, in fact, vaguely recognize but can’t quite name, closes their laptop and waves at vi. “i’m mel. pronouns: she/her. i mostly deal with the finances around here. and, from what i understand, you’re already well acquainted with our fearless leader —”
mel is cut off by the sound of her phone alarm.
“shit — it’s already 11:30. our set at campus radio starts soon.” mel gestures at gert. gert picks up the bright red guitar case behind them and secures it around their shoulder as mel packs up her leather satchel.
“damn, i gotta get to class, too. the space-time continuum waits for no one.” sky gets up and gathers her things, too, stuffing yarn into a fruit-printed tote bag. “it was nice meeting you though.” she pats vi’s head affectionately before throwing out a loud: “see ya later, boss!”
mel and gert offer similar farewells, and you shout goodbye from the other room before the three of them are out the door. vi expects you to reappear a few moments later; when you don’t, she ventures into the office.
it’s smaller, but just as decorated as the lounge space. there’s a desk that seems to be more storage than actual use, littered with piles of books and old copies of the black rose. you’re sitting on a fluffy rainbow carpet that looks like every member of sesame street stitched together, writing something in a sticker-covered notebook.
“so, violet —”
“vi’s fine,” she tells you. she decides to sit on the floor next to you rather than the zebra striped chaise lounge.
you nod, rip a page out of your notebook, and hand it to vi. there’s something a bit too intimate about knowing what your handwriting looks like before even knowing your name.
“this is a run down of everything you’ll need to know, but real quick: we do feminist film fridays and trivia tuesdays on alternating weeks; our radical reads book club meets once a month, along with our slam poetry group, and we have a bunch of other events in between — workshops, art builds, discussion groups, and so on. sky keeps everything in the centre stocked, and occasionally the rest of us will pitch in when organizing a charity drive. our newsletter publishes the third wednesday of every month — gert puts it together, but we print in pairs since it could be a lot of work for one person. we have team meetings once a week to share updates, make sure we’re all on the same page, stuff like that. any questions?”
“wow, okay. that’s a lot.”
you smile. “i’m sure you’ll be able to keep up, varsity.”
“so….where do i fit in?”
“that depends on you, really,” you tap your glitter gel pen on your notebook, thinking. “like, i’m assuming you’re not well versed in feminist literature.”
vi puffs out her chest. “based on what assumptions? i’m not a dumb jock.”
“yeah, i know you’ve made the dean list ever since your freshman year.”
vi raises an eyebrow. “keeping tabs on me, wonder woman?” she teases.
you laugh. “don’t flatter yourself. sky’s the one who mentioned it to me. so, unless you mean your very large, unpaid tab at sappho’s...”
“the bar i was kicked out of, you mean.”
“well, yeah, because you —” you take a deep breath. “not the point. anyways, we don’t have a complete schedule for book club, so you can maybe take the lead on one of our meetings. do you have a favorite author?”
vi smiles at you sheepishly. “ah…..you got me there.”
“thought so,” you smirk and vi covers her blush. “if you’re curious, this bridge called my back is a good place to start. oh, and audre lorde is a classic and a personal favorite…..” you pause when you catch vi staring at you. she wants you to keep talking, to appreciate the way your eyes light up so enthusiastically, but you blink away, and a veil of professionalism falls back onto you. “sorry. anyways, we’re having trivia tomorrow — would you be able to help us out with that?
vi nods. “sure.”
“sweet.” you check your phone. “i’ve got a coffee date, so i should get going.”
“wait — you never told me your name, wonder woman.”
“well, it’s not diana prince,” you quip before finally introducing yourself.
“nice to finally put a name to the face.” vi winks at you, standing up. she extends a hand to guide you up. your hand is cold against her skin, your metal rings even colder.
“i’ll see you around, varsity.” before you’re out the door, you turn back around. “oh, and vi?”
“yeah?”
“don’t be late.”
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
you had stepped away for a quick smoke break — a habit you knew you had to kick — but you’re so fucking drained and it’s only wednesday.
you were up all night bickering with your girlfriend. it started with her admitting that she really doesn’t want to meet your friends, which transitioned into her asking you to not talk to anyone about her or your relationship, which prompted you to make a (maybe slightly insensitive) comment about how she’s welcome to stay in the closet but has no right to push you back in.
needless to say, you did not get any sleep.
you’re about to walk outside, and finally get a moment of peace, when your phone rings. it’s your sibling, and the fact that they’re calling instead of texting tells you that this conversation is about to be (A) exhausting, (B) infuriating, or (C) both.
the correct answer is C.
it’s the same story over and over again: your dad drinks too much, your mom is absent. it hadn’t been this bad when you were growing up, but you suppose you’d been around to ease the damage, or at least step in and take care of your sibling as needed.
“just — take a deep breath. you can come stay with me for the weekend, okay? it’ll be good for you to get away from the chaos for a bit….we’ll go apple picking if the weather’s nice, maybe start working on your halloween costume — whatever you wanna do.”
“you know, i’m not five anymore,” they mumble, stifling a small laugh along with some tears. “but…okay. that sounds nice.”
you smile to yourself, shoulder pressing against the door. “it’s a plan then. we’ll sort out the details later. and, don’t worry about mom and dad — i’ll take care of it. love you.”
you hang up and exhale as you finally push the door open, happy to finally get one moment to breathe.
except, just as you’re greeted by a crisp breeze on this beautiful late september evening, you’re also greeted by the sight of vi pressing someone against the brick wall, their legs wrapped around her waist as she kisses their neck.
something ignites in your abdomen, familiar after many nights of seeing vi at the bar, charming her way into another woman’s bed. except, it’s definitely not jealousy, this time.
(okay, maybe it is; but only a bit.)
they spring apart upon hearing the door slam closed. you recognize who vi’s with — maya, a sophomore who’s frequently attended women’s centre events since last year. she’s always been friendly with the team, but never this friendly.
“oh my gosh, i am so sorry!”
“you don’t have to apologize,” you tell her sincerely. her cheeks are flushed, and she’s busy smoothing down her skirt, clearly trying to distance herself from vi, who’s leaning against the wall nonchalantly. “i just need to talk to violet, so do you mind giving us a sec?”
you wait until maya disappears inside to cross your arms and glare at vi.
“so, it’s violet now, huh?” she teases, wiping red lipstick off her smirk.
“you were supposed to be helping facilitate this workshop,” you note.
“well, it is a queer sex ed workshop.” vi rolls her eyes. “i was giving maya a hands-on experience.”
you grit your teeth together. “and you just had to do that now? like you just had to go down on that third year during trivia last week?”
“well, see, i don’t have a ton of free time, and since i’m not allowed at the local lesbian bar….” she trails off, looking at you pointedly. “i’ve had to resort to multi-tasking.”
“multi-tasking.” you let an exhausted, bitter laugh slip from your lips. “you’ve showed up late to every single event in the past few weeks, and once you’re there, you’re either on your laptop, getting drunk, or hooking up with someone. tell me, violet, as captain of the yellowjackets — if someone on your team was acting like this, what would you do?”
vi narrows her eyes at you, like she can’t believe what you’re asking, and admits, “i’d call them out, tell them to do better.”
“right. and if they kept giving you empty promise after empty promise? you’d have to do something more drastic, even if you didn’t want to, yeah?”
no response.
shaking your head, you take out a cigarette. there’s only silence when you flick the lighter open and light it between your lips. you inhale deeply, letting the smoke enter your lungs, exhale slowly, and decide: “i’m gonna ask the dean to reassign you.”
“fine by me,” vi scoffs, but you swear that something close to disappointment flashes across her face. “clearly, this isn’t working out.”
“clearly.” you take another drag of your cigarette, and as vi walks back inside, you can’t help but try to get under her skin. you’ve had a bad week, between family drama and turbulence in your relationship with jules, and you’re just sick of people not giving a shit. “the year’s already started, so i doubt there’s something available. which means you’ll remain on academic probation until spring.”
and, okay — you do get some twisted satisfaction in how that makes vi stop in her tracks. you’re leaning against the wall, and she strides over to stand in front of you, her jaw and fists clenched.
“i’ll miss the whole tournament.”
you shrug, and blow smoke in her face. “i’ve given you plenty of chances.”
“but the team needs me —”
“you should have thought of that before you fucked up, varsity,” you snap. vi’s eyes widen; you’re usually more level-headed. “you’re cocky, irresponsible — ”
“i lost my scholarship,” vi blurts out, prompting you to pause, the cigarette millimeters from your lips.
you blink at her, blood still roaring in your ears.
“i…don’t know why that’s relevant.”
vi just sighs, so deeply that you feel it in your bones. you haven’t seen this side of her before — no flirtatious smile, no overconfident posture. instead, she slips to the ground, knees pressed to her chest. feeling a bit guilty for pushing her buttons, you slide down next to her. you offer her the cigarette, but she shakes her head.
“i…i’m going through a shitty breakup. i’ve been lashing out, and i lost my scholarship. i haven’t asked my parents for money, because the last thing i want is for them to worry about me. so, i started picking up these odd jobs to make ends meet, and the hours are a bit crazy so between school and practice and — fuck, there’s also shit going on with my sister that i won’t even get into now, but it’s a lot — and i also need to do this because i let my team down and i need to be there for them, whatever it takes, and i’m just so fucking —”
“exhausted, yeah.”
you can see more clearly now — the slump in her shoulders, the shadows underneath her eyes; you see her more clearly. you realize that you might have more in common with violet rose atlas than you initially thought.
“so the laptop —”
“finishing assignments.”
“the drinking?”
vi juts her chin out at your smouldering cigarette. “we all have our vices.”
“and the sex?”
her lips curl into a sheepish grin, and she shrugs. “we all need to relieve stress.”
you clear your throat, blinking away from her gaze and trying to ignore how you can feel warmth radiating from her body, so close to yours. “right.”
vi runs her hand through her tar-black hair. that should have been your first hint — nothing says lesbian breakup more than terribly dyed hair and questionable decisions.
“look, i know i can’t do everything, but i have to, and i’m still trying to figure out how.”
“well….as far as excuses go, it’s not the worst,” you admit. “thanks for telling me. i know that couldn’t have been easy.” you take a deep breath and get to your feet. “i stand by what i said earlier, though — this isn’t working out. you just can’t tell us that you’ll be helpful and not follow through. it means a lot, to a lot of people, that there’s a space like this on campus. mel, gert, sky— they all work so hard to make that happen, and that’s something i need to protect. i’m sorry.”
“wait.” vi grabs your wrist before you can leave. “i’m sorry. really, i am. i promise to do better.”
“you’ve made that promise before,” you point out. “why should i believe this time will be different?”
“because…you’re right. i’ve been too caught up in myself, in what i need, in what my team needs. i can see that you really care about your team, though, and i should have respected that. they’re — you’re — amazing, everything that you do to make people feel safe and heard and loved. i’m sorry for taking that for granted.”
wow. okay.
you did not expect that. you’re hoping that vi can’t feel your pulse quicken at her words, but you’re glad that she’s holding on to you, keeping you steady.
“yeah, well…flattery’s not gonna get you far.” you clear your throat. “but, you’re obviously going through a lot right now, and it can drive you crazy, feeling like you’re the one who —”
“has to keep everything together,” vi finishes, sliding to the ground once more. you follow. “seems like i’m cracking under pressure, this time. fucking everything up.”
“you’ve got a reckless streak.”
“must be the aries in me,” she laughs, softly. “apparently it’s my Ieast attractive quality. along with my stubbornness and selfishness.”
“well, i don’t think that’s the whole picture,” you assure her. vi looks at you incredulously. “i won’t lie and say that your actions aren’t….thoughtless sometimes. you’re more self-centred than selfish—”
“hey!”
“but you obviously feel some sense of responsibility, for your team, your family, for what you think is right. hell — the reason my boss asked me to kick you out is because you started a bar fight with that frat boy who was insisting he had the right dick to set lesbians straight.”
vi scoffs. “asshole.”
“i was about to throw him out, but you beat me to the punch. literally.” you nudge your shoulder against vi’s, and she chuckles. “and, yeah, you’re stubborn, which can be annoying, but it also means that you’d never give up, that you’re willing to keep trying despite the odds, so….”
“so….?”
vi’s looking at you with the widest, softest eyes. fuck, you never expected her to be this gentle, so much so that it you want to melt to her every need.
“i’m hoping third time’s the charm, varsity.”
vi smiles, the most sincere one she’s probably ever given you, and the scar on her lip stretches; for all your talk about responsibility, there’s a part of you who’d risk pushing your already tenuous relationship with your girlfriend to its breaking point just so you could kiss vi, guilt-free, just once. maybe you have a bit of a reckless streak, too.
“thanks, wonder woman. you won’t regret it.”
yeah. you kind of already do.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
vi would never admit it, but one reason she fought to keep her community service assignment here is because she wanted to keep seeing you.
she likes getting under your skin, seeing those pretty eyes roll whenever she strides in late for a meeting, that kissable jaw clench any time you catch her tangled up with someone else.
it almost makes up for all those nights at sappho’s you’d spent flirting back and forth, some sort of unspoken agreement between you to never go further.
sometimes, it’s just nice to have a crush in your back pocket, to know that they’ll always be there to admire and admire you back while others come and go.
the more time you spend together, though, the more vi realizes that you’re not just a fictional character in her head, in a fantasy she pictures before bed — no, you’re tangible.
vi watches as you bring special tea for gert when their period cramps are particularly painful; she listens to you console mel after another fight with her mother and offer advice to sky when she was hoping to ask out her lab partner. vi notices how you prefer your coffee with a dash of cinnamon; and she learns that you had your first kiss with a girl in your freshman year journalism class, and that your first tattoo was done by the same person. a stick-and-poke star on your ankle.
she can hear your laugh, feel the cool metal of your rings brush against her skin accidentally when you’re squeezing past her in a crowded room, smell your perfume when you hug her goodbye. you have stories and quirks and expectations and opinions that vi subconsciously files away as she gets to know you better.
you’re not just a crush, anymore.
you’re a friend.
vi likes having you as a friend. really — she does!
you’re a friend who makes vi’s heart jump at the sight of your name on her phone. a friend who smirks when vi blushes after you tell her she has the prettiest cheekbones you’ve ever seen. a friend who mentions this vibrator that gave you one of the best orgasms you’ve ever had, so vi orders the same one and maybe still pictures you before bed, imagining that you’re using it at the same time. except someone else might be next to you.
yeah, vi’s pretty sure you’re dating someone, but that’s something she hasn’t gathered enough information on.
not that it matters. she wouldn’t be interested in anything serious, anyways, after the mindfuck that was her relationship with caitlyn, and the damage she’s still having to heal from.
though, if that hadn’t happened, vi would have never gotten into a fight with maddie nolan, the second striker for the piltover knights, who taunted her during an exhibition game about how caitlyn is so much happier now that she isn’t disgracing herself with a filthy zaunite. vi would have never been banned from the first half of the tournament and chewed out by coach sevika for fucking up the yellowjackets’ chance at nationals.
vi would have never been put on academic probation and assigned to 100 hours of community service, either.
she certainly wouldn’t have been here, now, in the women’s centre office close to midnight on a tuesday, folding the most recent issue of the black rose when you walk in.
“oh. hey, v.” you drop down on the zebra-striped couch, your tote bag falling to the ground. “i thought sky was gonna be here tonight.”
vi shakes her head, removing one earbud and letting it dangle from the cord. “she’s got this huge chem report due tomorrow, had to meet up with viktor to get it done.”
“right…” you sigh and lie back on the couch, staring up at the ceiling. a few moments pass, and there’s only your steady breathing. “what are you listening to?”
your eyes are closed when vi settles in next to you. it’s a relatively tight fit, but it doesn’t seem like either of you particularly care. vi gently places an earbud in your ear.
you snort, opening your eyes. “you could have just said the cranberries.”
“i’m surprised you recognize them,” vi quips. “it’s not your usual angry girl music.”
“well, sometimes people surprise you. this is actually one of my favorite songs,” you explain. “it’s in one of my favorite movies, too.”
“you’ve got mail?”
you furrow your brows. “when harry met sally.”
vi shakes her head. “no, ‘dreams’ is definitely in you’ve got mail. but, i agree that when harry met sally is a better movie.”
“you’ve watched nora ephron movies and enjoyed them?”
“well, sometimes people surprise you,” vi teases. “i can appreciate a good love story as much as the next person.”
you let out a short, airy laugh. you tilt your head and you’re so close to vi that you’re practically exchanging the same breath. your eyes land on her lips for a millisecond, and vi starts to lean in before you sit up abruptly.
“i could use some alcohol.” you climb over vi and go to the desk, pull out a half empty bottle of fruit-flavored soju from a drawer. you grab two mugs — the hayley kiyoko one, and another with frida kahlo. you stop short of pouring, looking to vi. she nods.
soon enough, you’ve got your legs strewn along vi’s lap, sipping lychee infused alcohol.
“can i ask you something?”
“anything,” vi answers, squeezing your calf.
“why’d you and caitlyn break up?” the question hangs in the air for a second before you add: “if you don’t wanna talk about it though, i understand.”
shit. it’s definitely not vi’s favorite topic of conversation, but….
“i think she thought that i was one of the good ones, that regardless of the way i grew up or the blood that coursed through my veins, i would be her perfect little charity case. people would be like: future president kiramman definitely cares about the poor — just look at the broke angry lesbian she’s turned into her docile wife!”
you suck in a sharp breath. “fuck that.”
“yeah,” vi laughs sadly. “the worst part is that she wanted me to be vulnerable with her, so i was, because i thought the more i opened up, the more she’d love me, but, in the end….i was too messy. i was too much.”
vi hates the lump that starts to build in her throat, the tears that threaten to spill. she cannot cry in front of you —
you grab her hand. your skin is cool against hers, and it eases her quickening heartbeat.
“you’re not too much, v.” your voice soothes her like honey, trickling down her throat. “it sucks, though, when they ask you to rip your heart out of your chest and get mad at you for bleeding out in front of them.”
“shit, i never thought of it so…viscerally, but that’s exactly what it feels like.”
“well you’re not a creative writing major,” you quip. “i know it still hurts — trust me, i know — but your heart was never hers if she treated you that badly. you deserve more.”
is it the alcohol messing with her brain, or does it look like you want to kiss her?
fuck.
vi clears her throat. “why’re you asking?”
you pull your hand away, take a sip of your drink. “jules broke up with me a few days ago.”
you’re single now. good to know.
“what happened?”
“i caught her kissing someone at a bar. a boy.” you roll your eyes. “maybe she just wasn’t ready, which is fine, but when we had it out, she told me that what we had isn’t what romance is supposed to feel or look like, which sucked. especially after being so….vulnerable with her.”
“you offered her that bleeding heart of yours, didn’t you?”
you click your tongue, pouring some more soju into each mug. “course i did, v. and it didn’t mean anything in the end. because relationships suck.”
“i’ll drink to that.”
you cheers, keeping eye contact.
“and you know what?” you take a big, long gulp. “i know that relationships aren’t just about sex, but i’ve been having to get myself off for months now and sometimes, i just want someone else to —”
“take care of you?”
vi sips her drink, watching you mull over her words.
“not sure if i’d put it like that,” you decide. “i just miss that excitement. when another person wants to discover what makes you feel good, and wanting to learn how to make them feel good, too. i miss having that connection with someone.”
“i’m guessing you didn’t have that with jules, then.”
“ha! no. and paula…the girl i dated before….let’s just say, she didn’t give a shit whether i felt good, in any sense.” you shift in your seat; vi senses there’s a story there, but she doesn’t push. “how about future president kiramman — she take care of you?”
vi can’t help but laugh. “nah. i mostly took care of her. she sure liked it when i got down on my knees for her.”
you hum.
“lucky her.”
you wink at vi, and she chokes on her drink.
i would gladly do it for you, if that’s something you want.
“is that a genuine offer? because, if you’re joking —”
shit. did vi say that out loud?
vi’s heart is beating out of her chest, but she sits up straighter to regain some level of composure. she nods.
no use in turning back now.
“i’m serious, wonder woman.”
you stare at her. “i really can’t have another relationship that’s just gonna crash and burn.”
“that’s not what i’m offering. i care about our - our friendship. i care about you.”
you swallow. “i care about you, too.”
“right, and when our friends need help with something….”
“we help them,” you finish. “so, you’re really just talking about casual sex. right now, on this couch?”
“yes,” vi answers. maybe a bit too quickly. “if that’s what you want, too.”
“that’s what i want,” you reply. maybe a bit too quickly, too. “but none of this one sided bullshit: you do me, i do you.”
vi takes your mug, puts it next to hers on the floor, and repositions your bodies so that she’s hovering above you, hips set between yours.
“sounds perfect to me.”
you finally, finally kiss and it feels oddly…familiar. you taste like lychees and nicotine and cherries, burnt sweetness, and your skin is so fucking soft.
“wait.” you tug on vi’s hair and she has to bite back a moan at how fucked out you already look underneath her, all wide-eyed and desperate. “just so we’re 100% clear: just sex.”
vi nods once. “no strings attached.”
“it’ll be casual.”
“we’re not doing the whole relationship thing.”
“promise?”
vi sticks out her pinky, grinning at you sheepishly. you roll your eyes ever so slightly, but still wrap your pinky around hers.
“promise.”
so, you take care of each other. no strings attached.
because that’s what friends are for, right?
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
v ⚽
are u busy rn? got out of my lab early and im bored
wndr wmn ☆
yeah, im at work
v ⚽️
leave early. im BORED and HORNY
wndr wmn ☆
ofc you are
v ⚽️
pls u love it
u know #6 isn’t just my jersey number ;))
i’m implying that i will give u 6 consecutive orgasms
wndr wmn ☆
yeah i got that
v ⚽️
so….
wndr wmn ☆
….
leaving now
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
“you sure about this, v?”
vi hums, looking up at you through hooded eyes. “isn’t it every girl’s dream to get tied up by the lasso of truth, wonder woman?”
you’re straddling her, still wearing your red and gold bodysuit underneath blue shorts that you’ve decorated with silver stars. your makeshift lasso of truth — really, just some gold rope — sparkles, tying vi’s wrists together to the headboard.
the theme of the women’s centre halloween celebration is always the same — dress up at your favorite female icon — but you’d never seen someone look as good as vi does. she dressed as trinity from the matrix, all tight, black leather and vinyl, showcasing her defined muscles as the gods intended.
now, she’s left in a sleeveless cropped top and black boyshorts, with her pants and jacket thrown somewhere on your apartment floor.
you have a feeling she really liked your costume, too, because she practically begged you to take control tonight.
“if it gets too much, our safeword will be —”
“sappho.” the slight whine of impatience in her voice sends a jolt right to your core.
“perfect.”
you kiss her lips, her jaw, her neck, your lipstick leaving angry red marks. you lodge your bare thigh in between vi’s legs, biting your bottom lip when you feel her already warm and wet, when you hear her whimper as you apply more pressure to where she needs you most. you reach into your nightstand for your vibrator and switch it on, teasing vi’s nipples through her shirt.
vi moans, deep and loud. not even thirty seconds, and she’s already pulling at the restraints, the headboard creaking.
“are you gonna be a good girl for me, violet?” you coo, inching the vibrator lower and lower, feeling her shake underneath you. “because we’ve got all night, and you better not break my bed.”
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
“hey, so — i found these in between one of the couch cushions, thought maybe they might be yours.”
you can only spare a glance at the item mel is holding up — you’re grading freshman papers, focused on this one student’s thesis about gender fluidity in shakespeare’s twelfth night.
“oh, those are vi’s.”
“hm. and just how is it that you know what her underwear looks like?”
you stop writing mid-sentence and look up at mel who’s giving you a pointed look.
you and vi had been the ones to clean up after feminist film friday last week, and one thing led to another….
in your defense: vi had been wearing these low cut jeans that showed off her v-line, and you could tell she didn’t have her usual sports bra on because you could see the outlines of her nipple rings through her tight, white tank top. it took everything in you to wait until people cleared out during the credits of the watermelon woman to pin her down and have her whimpering for you.
“i just…guessed.”
“right.” mel rolls her eyes. “so, you and violet are….what? fucking? dating?”
you clear your throat and take a sip of lukewarm coffee.
“we’re keeping it casual,” is all you say.
“are you sure that’s a good idea?”
you just shrug.
“just — be careful,” mel, always the diplomatic one, eases. she walks towards you, sits on the edge of the desk, and hands you the pair of black briefs. “i know we all teased you about it before, but i don’t want to see you get hurt. i’ve seen you get your heart broken one too many times.”
“it’s fine, mel,” you assure her, grabbing the piece of fabric and shoving it at the bottom of your bag. you’re visiting their owner after this, anyways. “vi and i are just friends helping each other out.”
mel raises an eyebrow. “well, you and i have been friends for years and we’ve never gotten that close.”
“that’s different.”
“how so?”
“i appreciate your concern,” you say, avoiding the question. “but it’s fine. nice, actually.”
“it’s your life,” mel sighs. “maybe don’t fuck on our couches anymore, though.”
your cheeks heat up. you turn your attention back to the essay in front of you.
“noted.”
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
vi starts showing up at your place after soccer.
she’s allowed back on the field during games now, so she appears with a winning grin, a grass-stained uniform and fresh bruises on her knees. one time, she had the remnants of a bloody nose after a header gone wrong, and you could taste copper when she pressed her lips against yours before she hopped in the shower.
you keep her go-to body wash stocked — bergamot and cedarwood scented old spice — but she always walks out of the bathroom smelling like your mango-vanilla shower gel. sometimes even your coconut shampoo. she slips on one of your oversized graphic tees, drapes a light purple towel around her shoulders to avoid staining your shirt with her cheaply dyed black hair, fading back to pink with each wash. she walks over to the fridge in her soft gray sweatpants rolled at the ankles and cracks open one of the spiced-pear red bulls as you pull ingredients out for dinner. usually something quick and simple, since it’s always a long week and neither of you have capacity for anything more.
vi chops garlic and tells you about her game; you boil water for pasta and tell her about the latest drama between students in your literature class.
you pretend you have all the time in the world.
because you both know that vi’s got the strap packed in her gym bag, that soon one thing will lead to another and she’ll be fucking you with it until you’re both sweaty and spent and exhausted in the best way possible.
you’ve established this routine together, agreed upon several unspoken rules: no pillow talk once it’s over; no actually falling asleep in the other’s bed; no crossing that thin sapphic line between friendship and romance.
no breaking that promise.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
wndr wmn
wanna come over? i’m watching bend it like beckham
v ⚽️
MY FAVORITE!!
i would love 2
but lucky fell asleep on me
we just finished devouring an xl pepperoni pizza
wndr wmn
remind me again why your one-eyed golden retriever likes pizza so much?
v ⚽️
come on it’s cute
[v ⚽️ sent an attachment]
wndr wmn
yeah, you’re cute
v ⚽️
<3
come over here instead?
wndr wmn
omw
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
vi whines, and you can’t help but roll your eyes.
“come on — hurry up.”
“you practically begged for this, v,” you chide.
“yeah, but you’re taking too long and your hands are fucking freezing.”
“it’s the irony deficiency, babe,” you quip. “now, are you gonna be a good girl and let me finish?”
“fine,” vi grumbles. she does stop squirming, though. you hum, pleased.
you certainly didn’t miss the way her breath hitches at the nickname. vi’s right hand, freshly polished, tightens on your thigh.
you’re not sure why she called you at 1:27am for your help with this, or why she couldn’t just do it herself, but you’re sitting on her lap, painting her nails the color of pomegranate juice, a color she had chosen from the options you brought.
sure, you were about to turn in for an early night, but the moment you heard her voice through the phone, you rushed over to her place wearing nothing but your pajamas — plaid boxer shorts and a spiderman shirt that vi wore last time she was at yours, and you haven’t washed since.
you stretch time out as much as you can, meticulous in every stroke, but painting her nails doesn’t take much longer. you start to move off her lap — it’s probably time for you to leave — but vi grabs your hips, a playful smirk on her lips.
oh, right. that’s the type of relationship — friendship — you and vi agreed upon.
shit. you’re pretty sure that you’re wearing your days of the week underwear. is it a turn-off that you’ve got on a saturday pair on a thursday?
it doesn’t really matter, anyways.
instead of initiating a kiss, vi takes the bottle of polish from you, swaps it for black, and gestures for your hand. you blink at her, until you realize what she’s asking.
“oh! you don’t have to —”
“you do me, i do you.” vi grins at you. “i thought that was our arrangement.”
you laugh, feeling warmth radiate from your chest.
it’s kind of….adorable, the furrow of her brow, the way she curses under her breath when a drop of nail polish falls onto your skin. she’s surprisingly gentle, too, one of her hands holding yours for support while the other paints.
while she focuses on getting the polish onto your nails in even layers, you busy yourself by counting vi’s freckles.
violet rose atlas has a constellation of freckles sparkling across her cheeks. you hope there’s enough time in the world for you to memorize every single one.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
v ⚽️
do u need more nicotine gum?
im at cvs rn
wndr wmn
yeah that’d be great!!
v ⚽️
ok
i’ll get u the cinnamon one
that’s the one u like right?
wndr wmn
yep!!!
v ⚽️
okay cool
im also gonna get u some of those iron supplements
wndr wmn
my hero 🙏🏽
thank you sm
v ⚽️
ofc
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
“that red head was trying to get your number.”
“are you jealous, v?”
vi scoffs, sipping her cherry coke. “of course not. i’m just observant.”
you’d convinced your manager to let vi back into sappho’s. it’s nice, really, to see her back here again.
nice, but different.
gone are the days of staring at her from across the room, where she would be charming someone else, and only flirting with you when she came over to get another whiskey for herself and vodka something for her date. instead, she jokes around with mel, sky, and gert if they’re around, and sometimes brings her teammates in as well to play a game of pool. she usually has one drink, and then switches to something non-alcoholic. sometimes, vi doesn’t even come in for a drink; she just stops by to say hi before a team dinner or a study session.
(it’s fine — never once have you gotten an overpriced coffee from the cafe she started working at mid-october, and you probably stop by once a week between errands. that’s your excuse, anyways.)
so. things are different, but nice.
you lean across the sticky counter. “you want me to get down on my knees for you right now to prove which girl here i’d like to go home with?”
“baby….” vi shifts on the bar stool. it’s hard to tell under the dim multicolored lights, but you’re pretty sure she’s blushing, too.
“i think we both know you’d draw a bit too much attention to yourself. especially when i use my tongue to —”
“my car’s outside.”
you smirk. “my break’s in 15.”
you used to spend your breaks in the alley outside sappho’s burning through a cigarette. now you find yourself knee-deep in the passenger seat, eating vi out like she’s the last thing you’ll ever taste.
“f-fuck,” vi groans.
“feels good, yeah?” you tease her clit with her tongue, sliding two fingers into her easily. you work fast, determined to let her finish before you run out of time.
“so fucking good. i’m gonna —”
she clenches around your fingers; you lap her up eagerly, let her writhe against your face until she’s had enough.
you sit back on your knees once her hips still, wiping your mouth with the back of your hand. you crane your neck to check the time on the dashboard, when you notice something in the footwell.
“vi! i thought i lost this.”
vi grins at you sheepishly, chest still heaving as you hold up the complete works of audre lorde, a tattered book with a well-worn spine and dog-eared pages.
“sorry. i meant to put it back on your nightstand once i was finished.”
you open to where she’s placed a makeshift bookmark — the ticket from an underground sirens of zaun show you’d both gone to. you’ve had this copy since freshman year, the scribble of your handwriting in the margins of practically on every page.
“it’s okay,” you tell her. “you like it so far?”
“yeah.” she grabs the book from you gently, thumbing through the pages. you wonder if vi registers the curves of her own smile, tender and bashful. “honestly, i’m not usually a fan of poetry, but it’s really cool how lorde writes about desire between women in such a tangible way, you know? i really liked this one verse in ‘recreation:’ ‘touching you, i catch midnight as moon fires set in my throat.’ it’s just so - so beautiful, the idea of something so domestic and mundane being almost magical, because that’s what it’s really like when —”
you don’t even realize that you’re staring until vi looks up at you and freezes.
“sorry,” she clears her throat, closing the book and setting it aside. “did i say something wrong?”
you assure vi that she did nothing wrong.
you exit her car, the taste of her lingering on your tongue, the feeling of her keeping your body warm on this cold november night.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
wndr wmn
hey
are you in town during break?
v⚽️
having dinner at my dads’ on friday but otherwise im here
why? u gonna miss me??
wndr wmn
lol
im having ppl over for friendsgiving on sunday
if you wanna join
v ⚽️
hell yeah
can i bring anything?
wndr wmn
just your pretty face
i’ll take care of the rest
turkey, cranberry, sauce, stuffing, sweet potatoes, pumpkin pie…
etc. etc.
v ⚽️
damn!!!!
full course meal
wndr wmn
yep
im basically wife material
v⚽️
pls we’re so over gender norms
but yeah
you are
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
vi has never been the type to wait by the phone for a girl to text, or to show up at her place after not hearing from her in a while, worried that she might have done something wrong.
yet here she is, standing outside your door.
it’s cool, though. completely platonic behavior.
she knocks.
there’s no answer.
she knocks again.
nothing.
vi waits another second, leaning her shoulder against the door.
“it’s me, wonder woman,” she tries.
hope flutters in her chest as she hears you shuffle, unchain the lock. vi stumbles as you throw the door open, but she recovers quickly to find you: smudged black eyeliner enhancing the shadows underneath your eyes, hair in disarray, clothes disheveled.
“i’m not really in the mood for sex.”
vi can’t help but laugh, even though your comment feels like a punch to the face.
“wow. figured you would think more of me by now than just some horny teenage boy.”
“look, vi —”
vi?
since when do you call her that?
“i’m sorry i missed the meeting today. i texted mel —”
damn, so your phone does work.
you’ve just been ignoring her calls and texts.
“but i’m just… it’s not a good time, okay? i’ll see you around.”
ah.
the classic generic excuse and non-committal statement combo.
you start to close the door on her before she even has a chance to get a word in.
the hits just keep coming.
thankfully, vi’s always been a good fighter.
“wait.” vi places her palm firmly on the door before you can fully shut her out. “i’m just here to check on you.”
your face remains unchanged.
“okay, well, you’ve checked on me.”
“yeah, i’ve checked on you. you look like shit.”
you glare at her. “well i’m sorry i didn’t have the time to get all prettied up for you. i know that you like me better that way.”
“that’s not what i —” vi inhales sharply. she’s a fighter, but she doesn’t want to fight you. “mel dropped the news — about admin officially cutting our funding. i knew how that would affect you, so….” vi lifts the bag of takeout. “i brought some thai food for us to share. a pomegranate, too, because i know you like seasonal fruit. it’s been a while and honestly, i just….i just wanted to spend time with you.”
you exhale, your eyes softening.
there.
a hesitant smile, an invitation to come inside.
there are clothes all over your floor and dishes piled high in the sink. your desk is littered with empty boxes of cereal and cans of an energy drink that normally you’d never touch. the blanket that sky had crocheted for you — lavender and pink checkered — is unfolded on your couch, your laptop half-closed on the coffee table in front next to two stacks of printed essays — ones marked with purple pen, the others untouched. in contrast, your bed is still perfectly made.
you take the blanket and wrap it around your shoulders, sitting at the kitchen table and curling into yourself. vi busies herself in cracking open the pomegranate, putting the seeds into the last clean bowl in your cupboard. the palms of her arm wraps are now stained a reddish-purple, but she doesn’t care.
vi manages to find two pairs of clean chopsticks for the thai food, and the two of you eat in silence.
“so….” vi starts, watching you stab a piece of chicken before popping it into your mouth. “you wanna talk about it, or….?”
“what’s there to talk about?”
“well, for starters, maybe tell me what’s been getting you into full hibernation mode? we haven’t seen each other in, like, a week.”
“six days,” you correct, chewing a mouthful of noodles. “last tuesday, we played pool during my closing shift at sappho’s. i lost. you made me down two shots of tequila because you’re a menace and you know i hate it.”
“yeah, but i drove you home and tucked you into bed with water and advil for later, so i’m also a gentleman. so, just tell me what’s been going on. we’ll figure it out, yeah?”
“it’s fine,” you grumble.
“clearly, it’s not. just tell me what you need.”
“what i need is to not be distracted,” you huff, avoiding eye contact. “i certainly don’t need you —”
“taking care of you, i know.” vi grabs your hand from across the table. she feels you stiffen on instinct, and then ease into the heat of her skin. “trust me, i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want to be. so — humor me.”
vi squeezes your hand, hoping to reassure you.
you sigh. “i’ve just — i’ve been spiralling trying to figure out how the centre can keep going with, like, half our required budget, trying to see if we can get some external donors and i still need to finalize the venue and equipment rentals for our last open mic….and….and my sibling called again to tell me that things haven’t been great at home, so i want to go down there this weekend to sort everything out, but my car hasn’t been starting….plus i’m behind on grading, and i told my supervisor i’d have a complete draft ready by thursday and i’m not even halfway done, and that’s the same day we’re having that art build for the climate rally on friday, and i’ve been having the worst cramps since this afternoon, and all i wanna do is pass out and sink into my duvet, but i need to keep going —”
vi squeezes your hand again, this time more firmly. “you need to slow down.”
“i can’t.” you huff. “i have to keep everything from falling apart, and if i don’t….”
vi shifts to the chair next to yours, still holding your hand.
“but you can’t do it all if you’re too exhausted to take care of yourself. from the looks of it, you’ve been living off of frosted flakes, red bull, and zero sleep.”
you shrug. “if that’s what it takes.”
“if that’s what it takes, then maybe it’s not worth it.”
“don’t say that,” you tell her. “it’s all worth it. i just wish it wasn’t so…heavy.”
vi nods, because she really, truly understands. she gives you the advice she can see you giving her in another context.
“you ever think that maybe it wouldn’t feel as heavy if you…i don’t know…weren’t too stubborn to ask for help.”
“there are things that are my responsibility, violet,” you tell her, slipping your hand away. you reach for the bowl of pomegranate seeds, meticulously picking up one at a time with your chopsticks and crushing it in between your molars. “i can’t just pass those off to someone else.”
“fine. but what about other things? like the women’s centre stuff — we’re a team, right? so we’ll figure it out together, divide the labor so you’re not doing everything. and, maybe ask your supervisor for an extension, too? and, well, i don’t really need my car this weekend, so you’re welcome to borrow it.”
you pause, narrowing your eyes at her.
“you said…. ‘we.’”
“well, yeah. i’m part of the team, aren’t i?”
“but you’ll be finished with your hours in a week. there’s no reason for you to stay.”
“of course there is,” vi whispers, studying your face as it morphs from suspicious to something else, something gentler.
her heart is pounding as she waits for you to say something, so vi starts to dig into the pomegranate seeds, the juice surprisingly more sweet than sour. some dribbles out from the corner of her lips, and you reach over to wipe it away with your thumb.
“i’d love for you to stay,” you hum, smiling, and vi feels her chest glow with a brightness it seems only you can bring out. “turns out you give pretty good advice.”
“so…you’ll consider it.”
you shrug again. “maybe. i am very tempted to take you up on the car thing.”
“all yours, if you want it.”
“are you sure?”
“it’s fine, wonder woman. i’ll just carpool to practice — it’s better for the environment, anyways. can’t show up to the climate rally as a hypocrite, can i?” she jokes, and you roll your eyes playfully. “and, i’ll try to fix your car while you’re away.”
“wow. you are a gentleman.”
“gentleman? baby, i’m husband material.”
you actually laugh.
“i thought we were over gender norms,” you quip. “but yeah. you are.”
vi’s cheeks heat up at your statement. you most definitely notice her blushing because you break out into a toothy grin
“i missed you, v,” you admit. “any other words of wisdom?”
despite your tender smile, you look exhausted. vi just wants to hold you through it all, tell you it’s gonna be okay. instead, she settles for placing a gentle hand on your cheek, running her thumb over the deep shadow underneath your eye.
“get some rest, pretty girl.”
a few hours later, you wake up alone.
you have a vague memory of warm arms wrapped around you, a heart beating steadier than yours. your sheets smell like old spice, your apartment smells like fresh laundry. you get out of bed and notice that there are no more dishes in your sink, no more cans or containers on any surface. all the clothes you’d been meaning to wash are now carefully folded on your couch.
there’s a bright pink sticky note on your nightstand next to the keys to vi’s car.
you talk in your sleep. something about stargazing? maybe we can go when you get back.
drive safe. text me if you need anything.
xxx
- v
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
zaun yellowjackets vs. piltover knights.
two minutes left in overtime.
one goal standing in the way of their trophy. one goal to end piltover’s monopoly over the title of national champions.
caitlyn probably told her knights to be extra aggressive — win by any means necessary — so it’s been a long game of dirty plays and intentional fouls.
vi always puts her heart into every single game, but this time —
this time, it’s personal.
zaun’s defense works to regain possession and prevent piltover’s attack. ashe manages to intercept a pass between two knights, and is quick in dribbling the ball until mid-field. she sends it over to vi with a swift kick. vi’s quick on her feet, catching piltover’s defense by surprise, sprinting closer and closer to the goal. she makes it to the penalty box.
this could be the winning point.
vi has it, too. she’s so fucking close, about to fake out the goalie and kick into that hard-to-defend sweet spot — until a sharp, pointy elbow collides with her ribs so abruptly, it knocks the wind out of her lungs. she stumbles forward over the ball, knees skidding onto the grass. whoever it is also steps on vi’s cleat for good measure.
“fuck!” she looks up to see who it is.
of course. it’s maddie fucking nolan, who doesn’t spare so much as a glance as the ref doles out a red card. she nods at caitlyn as she walks off the field, no doubt following her captain’s orders.
her teammates help vi to her feet, and the ref makes sure everyone is in position for the penalty kick.
this could be the winning point. vi just has to ignore caitlyn’s icy stare from a few feet away, and the heart threatening to beat out of her chest.
vi takes a deep breath.
she looks to the stands. among the crowd of screaming fans, zaunites and pilties alike, is vi’s family. they’re cheering.
you’re there too, sitting next to them.
everyone is staring at vi, waiting for the whistle, waiting for her to make the shot, but the only person she stares back at is you.
you’ve got this, v, you had whispered to her the night before. she couldn’t sleep, so she called you. vi wishes she was back there, now — tangled in flannel sheets, lucky snoring at the foot of the bed, gazing up at the glow-in-the-dark stars stuck to her ceiling until she finally fell asleep in your arms.
but, vi’s on the field.
and this is the winning point.
the whistle blows.
she makes the shot.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
“i told you i wasn’t a jinx!” powder sticks her tongue out at mylo.
she’s all sweat and dirt and adrenaline, but, fuck, if vi isn’t so, incredibly happy and proud of her team, of everything they’ve been through, everything they’ve accomplished.
it almost doesn’t feel real.
just like it doesn’t feel real, seeing you talk animatedly with her sister’s boyfriend, laughing along with her siblings, smiling as you watch her dads hug and praise her.
when it’s your turn to do the same, you practically leap into vi’s arms, gushing about how amazing she was, how proud you are of her.
“this looks good on you,” vi hums, as you pull away from another hug. her fingers play with the bottom of the jersey, and she bites the inside of her cheek to ground herself in the moment. you, with her family. you, in her jersey. “thinking of joining the yellowjackets?”
“i think i’ll leave the soccer to you,” you tell her. “you were amazing out there. guess i should be calling you wonder woman from now on, huh?”
“wonder woman! that’s where i remember you from!” vander suddenly exclaims, stepping closer to the pair of you. silco turns around, too. “you once tried to get into the last drop with a fake id, didn’t you? under the name diana prince?”
“shit,” you laugh nervously, eyes flickering between vander and the ground as if you’re once again a teenager caught in the act. “i….probably did.”
“i kicked you out, told you to go home to themyscira.”
“yeah…i….i remember that.” you nod slowly, furrowing your brows. “except, i didn’t want to go home that night, so i lingered outside,” you continue. you turn to vi, and your face softens. “which was when you —”
“brought two glasses of cherry coke and rum,” vi finishes; she sees flashes of that night as you gaze into her eyes. “we climbed onto the roof and —”
that was her first kiss. vi never even realized until now, but —
you were her first kiss.
“i can’t believe i forgot that.”
“weird, how memory works,” you agree, tilting your head curiously, looking at vi with a newfound interest, like a ghost from your past.
“well, isn’t this a story we’ll be sharing on your wedding day!” vander chuckles, ruffling vi’s hair.
“don’t pressure them, darling,” silco chides, but the smirk growing on his face gives him away. he’s loving this drama. “they’re barely 23 — i doubt they’ve discussed marriage.”
“oh, we’re not —”
“yeah, we’re just —”
“friends,” you say at the same time, careful to avoid eye contact.
vi feels like she might burst into flames at the knowing look vander and silco share.
“well, violet, would your friend like to join us for a celebratory dinner?” silco asks.
so that’s how you’re sitting between powder and claggor, listening to them talk your ear off about the young innovator’s competition. vi’s sitting across from you, next to ekko, who occasionally pipes in.
you’re here, sharing the tradition of a post-game meal with vi’s family at the local pizza parlour.
caitlyn never even wanted to meet vi’s family.
a few pizzas are ordered for the table, and you eat and laugh and sip your soda along with everyone else. you make a flower out of your paper napkin and hand it to isha, who’s on the other side of powder, and she gives you a toothy grin in return. you answer all the standard questions about your job and major and plans for the future.
“after graduation, i’m probably gonna take a break, get some work experience,” you explain. “maybe save up some money for law school a few years down the road.”
“you wanna be a lawyer, huh? you sure you wanna be friends with a felon, then?” powder asks, blowing bubbles into her soda through her straw.
vi coughs, choking on a mushroom.
“powder!”
“what! she never told you?”
you shake your head, glancing over at vi who suddenly finds it hard to look you in the eye. your foot has been pressed against hers underneath the table all night; you pull it away now. she takes a big gulp of water; vi looks over at vander and silco for help, but they seem to be caught up in their own conversation.
“oh, damn! ” mylo adds, leaning over. “it’s a great story!”
“guys, maybe don’t —”
“but it’s a great story!” mylo insists. “shows what a badass you are!”
“she didn’t do anything serious, like murder or anything,” powder clarifies. “it was really just her pissing off some enforcers —”
“rightfully so,” ekko adds.
claggor nods. “we were just kids. they were harassing us for some bullshit, disruption of property or whatever, so vi steps in and things get heated —”
“it takes three of enforcers to get her handcuffed, but she manages to get a few nasty hits in before they send her off to stillwater —”
“she spends three days there —”
“i thought it was two —”
“no, it was three —”
“needless to say, this isn’t the first time vi has been sentenced to community service, but it seems she’s really enjoying it this time, thanks to you,” powder finishes, winking at you.
“well that’s….quite the story,” you finally say, voice steady.
“oh! let’s tell her about the time she stole from some enforcers that were hoarding food —”
as powder continues the story, and you listen intently, it’s hard to read your expression.
are you ashamed of being friends with her? disgusted by her family, her past? regretful that you ever let her touch you, let her into your life?
vi’s stomach turns when your eyes collide; she’s been down this road before, and vi’s scared that she knows exactly what you’re thinking.
she pushes her chair back and disappears to the bathroom before she has to watch you walk away.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
there’s a knock on the door.
“someone’s in here,” vi says. she grips the edge of the counter so hard, her knuckles turn white.
deep breaths.
this isn’t the same as before.
this isn’t caitlyn, who threw vi out like a piece of trash when something better came along.
then again, you never knew this much about vi’s past. you’re well within your right to —
there’s another knock.
“v? it’s me….i have to get going, but i wanted to check on you before i leave.”
“okay,” vi clips. she looks up at herself in the mirror; she had splashed her face with cold water to calm herself down. a drop falls from her chin. “bye.”
“are you sure you’re okay?”
“i’m fine. see you around.”
you sigh, and vi hears you settle against the doorframe.
“violet, let me in,” you press. “please?”
“i’m fine. you can leave.”
“okay, well, i’m not leaving until i see that gorgeous face of yours one more time,” you whisper. “i got all dolled up just for you, and all i wanna do is give you a proper goodbye….”
well, when you put it like that….
vi grabs some paper towel to dry her face and fixes her hair before opening the door for you. you smile knowingly, enter and lock the door behind you.
you lean against the door as vi leans against the counter, the marble digging into her lower back.
“okay, i’ll start because, frankly, i don’t have time to waste,” you state after a few moments of silence. “nothing i’ve learned about you tonight has changed how i see you. it’s just confirmed some things.”
“right. like how impulsive and violent and reckless i’ve always been,” she lists glumly, unable to look you in the eye.
“maybe you are all those things,” you pause. “but, i don’t fucking care. i mean, i do, because it’s part of you and i like who you are. i like you.”
your words do wonders to ease the tension throughout vi’s body, and she feels like she can actually take a breath.
vi’s eyes lock onto yours.
“you do?”
“i like who you are, every part of it,” you tell her. “well, i don’t like that you’ve had to fight your way through an unbelievably fucked up system ever since you were a kid, but the bottom line is that you’re the strongest, most compassionate person i know.”
vi blinks at you.
“funny, i was just thinking the same thing about you the other day.”
neither of you say anything for a minute or so, letting the sentiment linger in the small space between you. once more, you’re the one to break the ice.
“well, you know what they say about great minds….” you step closer to vi. you take her chin between your thumb and your index finger. "can you guess what i’m thinking now?"
vi shakes her head, throat suddenly very dry.
“i’m thinking that i’ve wanted to kiss you all night.”
“what’s stopped you?”
you grin. “i didn’t want to make a fuss in front of your family, but now that we’re alone….”
vi doesn't say anything, but instead closes the gap between your lips.
you kiss her, harsh and messy, tongue and teeth, swallowing her moans as your fingers snake down the waistband of her pants. you pull vi’s bottom lip with your teeth before moving to her neck, nipping along the outline of her tattoo. you bite down harder on her skin, right at her pulse point.
"what’s that you said earlier —” a low groan tumbles from vi’s lips when you start to suck just above her collarbones. another when your tongue soothes over the sting. “about a proper goodbye…?” she tugs your hair so that you’re looking right at her.
it’s quite the sight — your lips swollen, chest heaving, eyes curious and lustful.
“anything you want,” you whisper, all breathless.
vi hums. she slips a hand underneath the frayed hem of your denim skirt, and you gasp as her nails scrape against your inner thigh.
she likes that you’re here. here for her.
"get on your knees for me, sweetheart.”
she pulls down her pants along with her briefs, as you kneel before her without hesitation.
you drape one of her legs over your shoulder, giving your tongue better access to her cunt. vi grips your hair tighter, bringing you in closer, and you moan, sending vibrations up her body.
"fuck," vi hisses. you add a finger, while your tongue works her clit.
you bring her to the edge, stay with her even as her thighs clench around your skull. she expects you to get back on your feet right away, but you stay, adding another finger and sucking her clit. she moans your name.
you pull away slightly. "one more, pretty girl," you promise. your chin glistens with vi’s release; you lick your lips as you gaze up at her through thick eyelashes. "can you do that for me?" she nods furiously, and you get back to work.
after letting her ride your tongue and fingers through another orgasm, you kiss her ankle before releasing her leg. vi pulls you up to your feet, sucks the taste of herself off your tongue.
you pull away slightly, heart racing against vi’s chest.
vi swipes her thumb over the smudged lipstick below your lip. she studies you, admires you, like you’re a fucking work of art that belongs in a gallery, like you didn’t just fucked her through two consecutive orgasms in the bathroom at a pizza parlour while wham's "last christmas" plays through shitty speakers.
"take these off." vi tugs at your tights. you do as instructed, slipping off your underwear as well. she pulls you towards her, and lodges a leg in between yours. your bare cunt brushes against her thigh, back and forth as she guides your hips. "i can't believe you got all dressed up…. wearing my jersey, and this pretty little skirt even though it’s so cold outside. all for me?"
vi flexes her thigh muscles, pushing you down faster and harder. you whimper.
"all – all for you.”
vi feels her pussy clench, with the desperation in your voice, the stickiness of your heat against her skin, the smell of the two of you intertwining. your orgasm crashes into you, and vi holds you through it.
you kiss her ever so sweetly before removing yourself from her grasp, smoothing down your skirt and looking around for your underwear.
"where are my...."
you look over as vi tucks your fuschia thong into the inner pocket of her jacket.
"i'm guessing you'll buy me replacements for christmas."
vi flashes you a shit eating grin before putting on her own underwear. she then pulls up her pants, not wiping your release from her thigh. she likes the idea of walking around with you seeped into her skin.
when vi looks over at you, you’re as fully dressed as you can be and busy checking something on your phone. she only sees a flash of your lock screen, but it’s her. a photo of her and lucky playing at the park; there’s snow, so it had to have been a few days ago.
that doesn’t mean anything, right? people use photos of their friends for their wallpaper all the time.
“i really have to go,” you sigh. you pull a tube of lipstick from your pocket and step closer to the mirror. “hey — do you think we could switch shirts? not sure i should wear this to my next dinner.”
vi nods and you remove her jersey, revealing a matching fuschia bralette. she wonders what’s got you all coordinated — who else you’ve clearly dressed up for.
“so, you’ve got a hot date?” vi tries to act casual as she takes off her jacket, pulls off her shirt, and waits for you to answer. you take your time, fixing yourself in the mirror.
“something like that,” you finally say with a shy smile.
later, when isha’s asleep on powder’s lap in the backseat, vi thinks about how your date might have gone, if you’re taking them home to the same bed vi has fucked you in throughout these past few months.
where do you get off, fucking vi in the bathroom during dinner while her parents are at the table, only to leave for another date, wearing vi’s shirt, too?
“hey, can i ask you something?” ekko asks from beside her, cutting off the angry monologue in her head.
vi reaches over to turn down the music.
“sure, little man. what’s up?”
“what’s the deal between you and wonder woman?”
vi clears her throat, gripping the steering wheel. “what makes you think there’s a deal?”
“oh, please, we all noticed that hickey on your neck after she visited you in the bathroom.”
the car crawls to a stop as the light turns red, and vi adjusts the collar of her shirt.
“we’re just friends.”
“well, powder and i were just friends for ages,” ekko points out.
vi doesn’t notice that the light’s turned green until someone behind her honks. she steps on the gas, but the idiot behind her still cuts in front of her.
“asshole,” she grumbles, throwing them a middle finger for good measure. vi glances to her right at ekko, who’s scribbling something in his sketchbook despite only the streetlamps outside providing light. “so, what made you….realize that you wanted something more?”
ekko closes his book, smiling to himself.
“honestly? it was kinda a million little things, but what it really comes down to is that she’s the only person i could spend every second of my life with, and i’d still want more time. and, in my experience….it’s better to tell someone how you feel sooner rather than later.”
“or, some people prefer to wait a few weeks,” powder mumbles, stirring awake. “nice try, mister, but no interfering. i’m not losing 20 bucks.”
“wait — you’ve bet on my love life?”
ekko smirks. “so it is love.”
vi shrugs, pretends that she doesn’t immediately picture you in your kitchen, making her banana pancakes at 2am when she hears the word love.
“it doesn’t matter.”
because, it really doesn’t matter.
you’re out with someone else right now.
it’s over before it really had a chance to begin.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
cupcake
Hey, Vi
Just wanted to say good game today
You played brilliantly
Violet
k
cupcake
No need for the attitude
I was just trying to be nice
Violet
my apologies!!!
thank you SO much for recognizing my talent captain kiramman
i feel like i’m actually worth something now!!!
cupcake
Bitterness isn’t a good colour on you, darling
Violet
im NOT your darling
cupcake
I’m aware
I saw you earlier with that girl
Are you together?
Violet
idk
are you still with maddie?
cupcake
Actually, we broke up
I was hoping you and I could chat
Violet
what’s in it for me?
cupcake
The chance to reconnect with an old friend
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
you can excuse vi no longer attending the weekly team meeting. she finished her 100 hours around thanksgiving, so technically she didn’t need to be there anymore.
maybe you could excuse her ignoring your calls, or leaving your texts on read. it’s finals season, and she did mention picking up a few extra shifts to save up for christmas presents.
but you simply can’t excuse vi walking into sappho’s with caitlyn fucking kiramman, ordering drinks from you like you’re absolute strangers.
“what the fuck, vi?” you seethe.
vi glances at her date. caitlyn’s waiting for her back at a table, the glow of her phone screen illuminating her pretty face.
“what, should i have ordered something else? not every girl likes cherry coke and rum.”
you glare at her from across the counter, but start preparing their drinks nonetheless.
“why are you with her?” you throw some ice in a glass, the cubes clinking aggressively against the crystal. “are you back together?”
vi has the audacity to roll her eyes at you. “why’d you care?”
you catch yourself before saying something you’ll regret, something about liking her more than you definitely should considering the agreement the two of you had made.
clearly, vi doesn’t feel the same way; it’s not worth spilling your guts to her at your place of work.
“because we’re friends.”
“yeah, right,” vi scoffs. “you’re jealous, which you have no right to be because you’re seeing someone, too.”
you accidentally pour a double shot of vodka. you don’t really care, and mix the drink anyways.
“what the fuck are you talking about?”
“i’m talking about the date you went on the night of my championship game.”
“what date?” you slam the glasses in front of vi, so hard that you’re lucky they didn’t break.
“oh, don’t play dumb.” vi spits your name like it’s poison. “this whole thing started because you said you didn’t want a relationship, when really you just didn’t want a relationship with me. you used me until someone better came along. you lied to me.”
her eyes are glazed over, her voice shaking ever so slightly. you’re not sure if you’re more hurt or angry by what she’s saying, but it cuts deep; you continue as though you aren’t bleeding out in front of her.
“i don’t want a relationship with anyone and certainly not with you —”
“excuse me! are we able to order something?” someone with bright green hair and a septum piercing waves their hand in front of your face.
“yeah, just give us a second —”
“look, you and your girlfriend can fight on your own time.”
“she’s not my girlfriend!” you and vi snap simultaneously.
you glare at each other.
vi grabs the glasses from the counter, and walks away.
───── ⋆☆⋆ ──────
it took many brainstorming sessions, many boring conversations with potential donors, and many, many tears, but you managed to secure enough funding to keep the women’s centre going for the foreseeable future.
it was a team effort, of course, so you just want everyone to enjoy this open mic night, the last event of the semester — even though you are weighed down by the absence of a certain someone.
the gallery space on campus that you rented out is both cozy and electric, decorated with fairy lights on the walls, with pillows and blankets on the floor for people to sit and watch performances. there’s a table with drinks and snacks, a corner for people to make art if they’re inspired.
you’re rearranging the food, watching gert perform an original song when mel slides in next to you, wearing a gorgeous white dress with gold accents.
“do you mind running to the office? we’re out of paint.”
“really? people don’t usually use the paint.”
“well, it seems to be quite popular tonight.”
“it’s fine. we still have lots of other stuff. they can just collage or something.”
mel shakes her head. “i really think you should go get more paint.”
“maybe ask sky? i should stay here —”
“you could use a break, too,” mel cuts you off, placing a hand on your shoulder. “you’ve been nonstop all day; the rest of us can hold down the fort for a little while.”
you concede, mostly because she’s right and you don’t have the energy to argue.
when you get to the office, you’re surprised to find the lights on. even more surprised that someone’s already there, sitting on the zebra-striped couch.
“vi?”
she jumps slightly when you say her name.
“mel texted me,” she rushes out like she’s been caught red-handed. “said she needed help with something she’d been planning.”
you frown, until you realize why mel must have sent you here, specifically.
you haven’t seen vi since that night at sappho’s; you’d been quite a mess after your shift, ranting to mel on the phone about how she’d been right and you should have been more careful, how you don’t know what you did that ruined whatever you and vi had, and you really don’t know what you can do to fix it.
you’re both too stubborn to reach out to the other, so it seems like mel decided to take matters into her own hands.
“yeah, i doubt she’s coming,” you tell vi.
“okay,” vi says, but she doesn’t move. “i, uh, i was hoping i’d run into you, though.”
“yeah?” you raise an eyebrow at vi, crossing your arms. “needed another vodka martini for your piltover princess.”
“she’s not — we’re not together.”
“oh,” you exhale. the animosity you were holding towards her evaporates, but doesn’t completely disappear. you watch her, watching you stand by the doorway.
there are so many things you want to tell her, but you don’t even know where to start. you know that you’ve hurt her. she hurt you, too.
but, also:
you miss the cloudy blue-gray of her eyes, the scar on her upper lip.
you miss her.
“do you wanna come sit?”
after being so far away from vi, for what feels like forever, you don’t hesitate to take her up on the offer. your knees brush together as you settle next to her on the couch, a jolt of electricity passing through your body at the contact.
“so, i admit that —”
“vi, you were right —”
both of you stop your sentences short, chuckling nervously. you each urge the other to continue, and only get caught in a similar mess:
“i fucked up,” vi blurts out.
“i lied to you,” you confess at the same time.
an awkward, unfamiliar silence hangs above you; you’re not sure what to do next.
vi takes the leap. she tells you that mel explained everything: that you had to attend a dinner with alumni and potential donors on the same night of her championship game, but you kept it from vi since it was already a big moment for her; that you haven’t been on a real date with anyone else since september. vi apologizes for jumping to conclusions and falling back into caitlyn’s arms, shutting you out when she should have just talked to you.
you’re the girl who was her first kiss, she says. the girl who lingered in a vague memory, appeared in the fiction of her daydreams, and then suddenly became too real.
“i like you. i really fucking like you. and if it has to be as a friend, that’s fine because i don’t want to lose you.” vi takes a shattered breath, blinking back tears. she fiddles with the ring on her index finger, anxiously bouncing her knee. you place your hand there to steady her, and she exhales. “i guess i’m just not sure….when you said you liked me that night at the restaurant….is that what you lied about?”
vi’s practically doe-eyed, waiting for you to respond.
you shake your head.
“i lied when i said that i didn’t want a relationship with you,” you admit, and the hint of a smile dances across her lips. “i had this major crush on you, you know? every time you came into sappho’s….i couldn’t help it. and then you showed up here and we became friends, and then we started….well, you know the rest.”
“duh. i was there,” vi jokes, easing into her usual, playful self.
“i can’t do the whole casual thing,” you continue, rubbing circles into her knee with your thumb. “i know we made a promise, but i just can’t, not with you. it’s like…in every other relationship i’ve been in, i was trying to run out the clock. with you, though, with us, i feel like there’s never enough time —”
vi grabs your neck and crashes her mouth onto yours before you can finish your sentence.
you’ve kissed each other many times, in many different places, in many different ways, but never like this: like you’re both willing to break one promise if it means forging a new one.
“will you be my girlfriend, violet rose atlas?” you whisper as you pull away, lips brushing against hers.
you start to count the freckles on her cheeks as she beams at you, pulls you into her lap.
“i thought you’d never ask.”
#arcane#vi x reader#vi arcane#vi smut#vi#vi fluff#vi angst#vi league of legends#vi fanfic#lesbian#wlw#wlw fanfic#wlw smut#vi arcane smut#vi arcane x reader#arcane smut#arcane x reader#when i tell you this is all i've been thinking about these past few weeks....#like i want to live in this fic fr#im still not sure about the pacing but#just wanted to post it bc i feel like it's reached that point where i should send it out into the world anyways#i hope y'all like it im kinda nervous#i wanna post a holiday-themed fic soon bc 'tis the season so im gonna work on that now...and hopefully have it done b4 the end of the year#also i read somewhere that 2024 is considered the year of the lesbian so let's go lesbians <33#saf writes
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I think one of my favorite things about writing fanfic is that you can just... keep going. Write as many different endings to the story as you want. As many different AUs. You can write the same scene a hundred times and change what happens every time.
It's the most freeing feeling, that I don't have to choose.
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DP X DC PROMT: CONSCIENCE
Vlad has done it. It took ages, but he has finally convinced Danny to come with him to one of the Wayne's galas, the ones that Danny has been resisting for years.
Danny is reluctant, of course, and agrees only if he can bring Dani with him.
Once there, Danny is bored. Dani is also bored. They are irresponsible teenagers who have no sense of self control and Jazz isn't here so they have no real adult supervision (Vlad doesn't count).
In a move typical of the irresponsible, impulsive teenagers they are, the two decide to play truth or dare, but with the champagne that is everywhere at this event.
Neither of them had ever had even the slightest bit of alcohol, so their tolerance is shitty. It takes them a very short amount of time to get rather tipsy, and after a particularly funny answer to a truth, Danny laughs so hard he loses control of his tangibility and slips throught the floor and several layers of rock, into a free fall, and then broke his nose by dumping his body, face down on a cold rock floor.
Danny stands up and comes face to face with a teenager. In red Robin's outfit. They just kinda look at each other for a second, then Tim just goes " fucking great I'm hallucinating now" and ignores him. Danny is tipsy and he decides fuck it. Let's stick around. See what happens. Let's just pretend to be a hallucination that appears when this guy gets too sleep-deprived.
He keeps this up for several months (it's a nice reprieve from Amity and it's chaos), but is careful to always turn invisible when the rest of the bats come around.
Meanwhile, Tim just believes that he's finally lost it, because now his conscience is manifesting itself and giving him advice. And the thing is, it's like. Good. Advice.
Danny tells him to sit everyone down and force them to talk shit out, so Tim does, because he believes Danny to be an extension of himself and so far his instincts are usually right.
Danny is slowly but surely falling in love with this messy fucked up vigilante.
One day in patrol, Tim is about to be seriously injured, so Danny steps in. There's a whole conversation about how Danny isn't actually Tim's conscience, but Tim, who has gotten to consider him basically his friend, impulse-asks him out so he doesn't leave. Danny is thrilled. Tim is trying to tell him the truth, but then he falls in love too and the end they live happily ever after.
#fanfic#writing#batman#dcu#tim drake#danny fenton#danny phantom#dead tired#tim x danny#hehe#did i know where this was going when i started it? no#dpxdc#dc x dp
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#eternalsterek#sterek#stiles stilinski#derek hale#stilesderek#i promise i am trying to get back into posting often#sorry i am also writing fanfics now so it is going to take time to adjust#shitpost
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beatdown buddies
(You always read fics where the pit is instantly calmed by Danny’s presence, but what if it didn’t?)
Now, you have to understand, that Jason was long past attacking strangers in a blind fury. The Bats? Sure, all the time--- but he was working on that.
This particular scrawny, possibly-homeless stranger hadn’t done anything more than simply exist in Jason’s proximity. If it was any other Crime Alley resident, Jason would be much more likely feel a surge of protectiveness.
This guy though– he was different.
Locking toxic-green eyes to toxic-green eyes made the pit in his skin violently react. Before he knew it, he was hitting the guy with everything he had, and the guy was hitting back.
The groceries Jason had left his apartment to get spilled all over the ground as the two rolled.
Pulled hair, split knuckles, and bruised bodies, the guy’s fist hit Jason’s jaw for the umpteenth time, cracking his head back and making him look at the gloomy sky.
They only used their fists. Jason could feel the familiar ghost of weapons hidden under the other guy’s hoodie, but neither pulled their hidden weapons.
Despite it all, Jason and the guy shared blood-tinged smiles. Blood boiled under his skin in an exciting trill. He was angry, and it was fantastic.
He’s pretty sure he just made a new best friend.
Someone hit Jason’s back with what could distinctly be identified as a broom. He vaguely heard the sound of yelling around him, but Jason’s only focus was getting his next hit in.
Eventually, they were stopped by a familiar shade of blue and black. Strong arms pulled him off the stranger and pinned his arms down, locking their arms over his chest to prevent Jason from getting free.
“You need to calm down!” Dickwing’s voice lectured in his ear. “You’re going to kill him!”
Surprisingly, Jason settled in Dick’s hold, fight and anger drained out of him in the space of a breath. The fire under his skin didn’t keep flaming and flaming and building it just– stopped.
“Oh, Please.” The stranger was grinning widely, despite the model of developing bruises and cuts across his face. A burly man who Jason vaguely recognized worked at the store they were standing right in front of was both holding up and holding back the guy. “We were just saying ‘Hi’.”
The guy made eye contact with Jason. Blue, no hints of green anywhere. The guy winked. “Danny.”
Frankly, Jason couldn’t quite explain his actions. He felt stupidly chastized by Nightwing’s patented older brother stare of disappointment. Apparently, the guy couldn’t explain his actions either, as he disappeared the instant no one’s eyes were on him.
-
Jason arrived an hour early to Wayne Sunday family dinner. He missed cooking alongside Alfred, and offered his help.
He let Dick wrap an arm around his shoulder for a few seconds as a welcome. He didn’t seethe at Bruce simply being there. He chose to sit between Tim and the Demon brat when it looked like new fratricide plans were being drawn up by the younger.
The pit didn’t scream under his skin to hurt. Little things didn’t set him off, making him have to leave early. He wasn’t tempted to throttle anyone for existing around him.
The pit was just… quiet. Peaceful even. Well, as peaceful as it could get in the Wayne household.
It was a massive improvement compared to six months ago— hell, compared to last month.
He shrugged off inquiries about his black eye, citing it would heal quickly anyway.
-
Jason should have known he wasn’t safe.
Sure, he was on a roof one could only grapple to, across the city from crime alley, and dressed up as Red Hood.
However, Danny always reappeared periodically like a well-timed extremely therapeutic punching bag.
One moment, Jason was looking down over the streets of Gotham the next, he was being flying-kicked by a lithe frame. Something instantly recognized Danny so, rather the putting a bullet in him, Jason picked himself back up into a crouch and lunged at Danny.
“Hood? Hood what’s going on?” Someone called in his ear— Oh, right he had connected comms with his family that night.
Danny stopped suddenly, straddling Jason’s stomach, one hand fisting his collar, the other posed to strike. He blinked. glowing green eyes turned blue. “You’re not like, busy doing vigilante stuff, are you?” He asked.
Every bruise and cut from their last fight was gone, his baby face appeared as though it had never been punched in his life, making him look all the more punchable.
“Nope.” Jason answered, driving an elbow into the kid’s stomach and in the same motion ripped the comm out of his ear to toss it to the side.
Minutes later Danny was pulled off him, and the fire under his skin died down.
He blinked back into his surroundings to find himself on a rooftop with half of Gotham’s vigilantes standing in a circle around him, an unease that he could only read because he was so familiar with them written in all of their body languages. Batman held Danny slightly behind himself, keeping a firm grasp on the guy so he couldn’t escape.
“You claimed the rage was getting better.” Bruce stated in the way that meant he was supposed to answer his unasked questions..
Jason waited for rage and indignance to rise up in him, but rather he just considered that Bruce saw glowing green eyes and a brutal beat down and made a logical leap.
“It has!” Jason argued anyway. He sniffed and ran a hand under his slightly bleeding nose. It didn’t sting enough to be broken. “I haven’t lost my cool in months.”
“That’s what he has me for!” Danny chimed happily. His nose was broken, but Danny didn’t seem to mind the twin streaks of blood running down his face. “We’re friends with Benefits. It’s always healthy to have a little dead-guy on dead-guy action. You guys should really fight with him more often, his ectoplasm is rank.”
#dc x dp#ao3#fanfic#dp x dc#fic rec#danny phantom#dc x dp crossover#Jason *after tracking Danny down and finding him doing cryptic homeless Danny shit*: I need you to punch me in the face#I am going to family dinner tonight.#Danny: Understandable.#I wrote this with flirty connotations but it would also be funny if it was Tiny fourteen-year-old Danny beating up Jason#It would be even FUNNIER if Danny was De-aged#DC x DP writing prompt
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#archive of our own#ao3 quotes#ao3 stuff#archive of our own quotes#fanfic#fanfic quotes#funny#ao3#ao3 tags#basically I wrote this for myself#but you can read it too#me with all of my fics#seriously I write them for myself#then I go through my wips and wonder why no one has updated them in so long
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Weaknesses part 5: complexes
Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!
cw: some daddy kink level stuff
Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.
Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.
Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.
Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.
König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.
Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.
#if you see me going crazy for Nikolai in my posts no you didn’t#writing#cod fanfic#john soap mactavish#simon ghost riley#john soap mctavish x reader#simon riley x reader#könig#simon ghost x reader#simon riley x you#johnny mactavish x reader#johnny mactavish#simon ghost riley x reader#kyle gaz garrick x reader#kyle gaz garrick#nikolai x reader#nikolai cod#cod nikolai x reader#Nikolai#nikolai belinski#könig x you#könig x reader#könig cod#könig call of duty#john price x reader#captain john price#john price#cw daddy kink#weaknesses
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Demon brothers weaponizing their incompetence in the human world to get your attention. Your realm is sooo different to the Devildom, they need you to help them. These ancient and powerful beings are stumped by the incredible inventions of human ingenuity.
Or maybe they're taking advantage of you to monopolize your time.
---
Beelzebub, who had been using a fork just fine all day, suddenly forgets what it's for when you walk into the room. He fiddles with it in his hand and asks, "How does this human fork work?
You respond, confused, "It's the same as any fork? Literally the same as the Devildom, you just... stab the food and put it in your mouth."
"Belphie said human forks are different. You might have to feed me."
---
Asmodeus comes to you in a bath robe, which he managed to put on just fine by himself. "I don't know how human baths work, you'll have to take one with me!"
Belphegor's request is simple. He's already laying down, half asleep, when he grabs your wrist and demands, "Show me how the bed works."
---
"Lucifer, your brothers are driving me crazy again," you complain, having fled to the eldest's room for a moment of reprieve.
Red eyes peer at you from over the rim of his glasses. There's the faint curl of a smile on his lips. "Are they, now? Stay in here as long as you need."
#mammon wants to go for a drive but his license expired 65 years ago#i wanna write more but there's no time aaaa no proofreading no thoughts only post while i can#obey me fandom#obey me#obey me!#omswd#obey me shall we date#obey me scenarios#obey me x mc#obey me headcanon#obey me x reader#obey me fanfic#obey me brothers#obey me drabble#obey me ideas#obey me writing#obey me swd#obey me x you
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nowhere in hogwarts is safe to snog 👩❤️💋👨🤺 one of my fav scenes from @myokk's oneshot "clumsy" which you can read here! its about seb and mc being stubborn idiots in denial of their own feelings while also pining after each other the entire time 🥰 GO READ IT!!💖💖
#my first fanart of a fic that isnt mine/about seb and clora......WHO IS SHE😳😳#maddy writes seb so good GO READ IT i got an ask asking me for fic recs and this may be the only one ive actually read but... I REC IT#OBVIOUSLY.... if my fanart of it wasnt obvious endorsement enough LMAO#i just love this trope/scene BAHHAA seb is that meme of the girl covering her ears while her brother blares a trumpet at her#hogwarts legacy#hogwarts legacy fanfic#sebastian sallow#sebastian sallow x oc#sebastian sallow x mc#sebastian x mc#sebastian sallow fanfiction#sebastian sallow fic#omg i go into autopilot when i tag and i almost tagged clora clemons by accident but nuh uh not today#today its faceless nameless mc who totally isnt eloise or clora#choccyart
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Starting off by saying I hate “mom Danny” bc it tends to be p transphobic and misgendering, so if anyone adds it to my post I’m blocking them.
Tim making his Kon clone baby, but the cloning chamber isn’t stable enough for the fetus. He’s desperately trying anything that he think might work, when he comes across Phantom. Phantom who has experience with stabilizing clones.
Danny had heard whispers through the grapevine (Ellie who’d joined the Teen Titans as Phantasm) that there was someone attempting to make clones. He’d only meant to snoop and see if it was a Vlad situation. If any clones had been made and needed liberating. What he found was a newly minted Red Robin crying over a red blinking message on a cloning chamber. He warbled a quiet “please, Kon, I don’t want to live without you.”
Danny quickly realizing this wasn’t an attempt to replace and destroy, but actually someone grieving, in probably an unhealthy way, but who was Danny to judge, he’d once replaced Sam and Tucker with robots for less. So he decided to help Red Robin out. Sure, he hadn’t dealt with kryptonian dna before, but he was at least 89% sure halfa dna was way more complicated. And Red Robin had already figured out ways around the dna shenanigans, it was just the stability that wasn’t going well. Honestly, he didn’t think it would be as easy as an ecto dejecto like it had been for Ellie. But his parents had a lot of inventions that they’d started making to help out ghosts, once they’d realized Danny was Phantom. Maybe telling Red Robin about ghost IVF wasn’t his most thought through plan.
“I think what might help is an incubator.” Phantom had suggested.
Tim could only gesture at the cloning chambers that had failed him thus far. They were essentially huge incubators.
Phantom awkwardly rubbed the back of his neck. “I meant, like, a living incubator. Like a surrogate.”
“Where am I going to find someone that I not only trust to carry the baby, but also would volunteer?” Tim raised an eyebrow at him. Hell, had Tim had the equipment to do so, he would have carried the baby, everything else be damned. He just didn’t want to be alone anymore.
Phantom blushed green and looked away. “It might take a little tinkering with the embryos to work with the physiology, but…. I could carry the baby for you. I mean, I’m trans, and even if I wasn’t, ghosts are kind of malleable in a reproductive sense. And there are options for IVF in ghost science. And like, my own clone is like my little sister. I’m also a protection spirit, so I would protect the baby with my entire afterlife. And I’m kind of rambling so you should say something before I embarrass myself.”
“You would be willing to carry a baby for me?” Tim was shell shocked by the offer.
“I mean, yeah. You’re a good guy. You’re not cloning him for a malicious reason. You’re just trying to bring back a piece of your friend because you love and miss him. Dedication that strong for someone who has left the living plain, is admirable. You realized early on that you wouldn’t be able to increase the speed in which the clone grew. You’ve been trying despite knowing that this clone will be a baby that’s going to be your child, and not just the friend you lost. And I wouldn’t mind giving up my body for a little bit so you can make your family.”
Tim certainly hadn’t meant to surge forward and kiss Phantom. “Thank you.” Tim pulled Phantom into a fierce hug. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”
It took about a month for them to work out the kinks of making the baby safe for Danny’s body. In this time, Danny showing Red Robin his human form, and Tim revealing his own identity. It felt kind of wrong to keep his name from someone he intended to get pregnant with his child. Tim and Danny got close as they worked together on the baby. And there may have been a few more kisses shared between them. In the end, the baby ended up spliced with mostly Kon’s dna, some of Tim’s (to stabilize the kryptonian dna), and some of Danny’s (to keep the baby safe in the womb).
Once Danny was well and truly pregnant, he encouraged Tim to find Bruce. “I’ll keep the baby safe. You find your dad. If you need me for anything, I’m only a call away.” Tim hadn’t forgotten about Bruce, he’d just never thought it would take so long to set up cloning Kon. So much of his hurt and loneliness had fallen away in Danny’s presence, and Danny had let him hyper focus on making their baby.
“Probably terrible timing, but I’ve got to ask,” Tim swallowed nervously. “Be my boyfriend?”
Danny’s lopsided smile, thawed Tim’s nerves. “I think I could work with that. I hope you don’t mind kids though, I’m kind of pregnant.”
Tim huffed a laugh. “I’ll keep in touch while I’m away. Please keep me updated on the baby.”
Danny pulled him into a proper kiss, “I will.”
I’m mostly imagining Tim getting bump update photos and falling in love with his increasingly pregnant boyfriend, while he finds Bruce.
I’m also imagining after Bruce is back, Tim being like, “anyways gtg, my boyfriend is in his third trimester and I don’t want to miss the birth of our baby.” And peacing out before any bats could react, let alone stop him.
And also maybe when Kon comes back, there’s maybe a poly relationship started.
Also thinking about Tim getting Danny pregnant without the science.
Danny gets Dad, Tim gets Papa, and if Kon joins, he gets Poppy.
#dead tired#tim x danny#danny x tim#dc x dp#dp x dc crossover#dp x dc#dpxdc#dcxdp#tim drake#Danny phantom#dani phantom#red Robin#kon el kent#conner kent#pregnant Danny#clone baby#Kon el#superboy#robin#dc#dc comics#batman#dc characters#chatonfils writing#I don’t really know where Tim’s cloning attempts fit into the timeline#I need to read the comics and not just fanfic#but I think Danny is probably the best person to go to in the case of destabilized clones#TimKon#timkondanny#superdeadtired
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Gotham has always been weird, so when the groundskeeper at the cemetery noticed the Wayne kid’s plot was disturbed, he just chalked it up to more of the same ol’. Alright, so ‘disturbed’ may be a tad too light of a word, but what’s an empty grave in the grand scheme of Gotham? God knows in a city like this one, they could use all the burial room they could get. He figured he’d just jot it down on the website and hope nobody noticed for a while.
Too bad he didn’t account for the 13 year old boy in Bristol who periodically checks the cemetery’s website when he’s feeling particularly lonely.
Plot Removed.
Tim Drake stared at the two words under the heading for Jason Todd’s plot number. Removed? What do they mean ‘removed’? They can’t just remove a plot? That’s a person down there! That’s Robin down there! You can’t Remove Robin!
Calm down. Deep breaths. Assess the situation.
Robin has been dead for 5 months and 14 days. There is no reason for a grave to be removed that early, especially one of a member of such an affluential family. Chances are likely it’s a simple clerical issue. He can call first thing in the morning and make them aware of the mistake. He can have it all fixed in 5 hours.
Just a phone call.
In 5 hours.
…
Tim hates talking on the phone almost as much as he hates waiting.
Well it won’t be the first time he’s snuck out to head to Gotham proper at 1am. It can’t even really be considered sneaking out if there’s no one home to catch you.
Buses stop running at 2, so he layers a couple sweaters under his coat and grabs his best running sneakers so he can comfortably make the trek back.
Just a quick trip to settle his nerves. Maybe get a few shots in if he spots Batman, but really he just wants to see with his own two eyes that things are okay and Jason can rest.
It’s 1:37 by the time he gets to the headstone reading ‘Here Lies Jason Todd’ and the gaping, muddy pit in front of it.
This- This doesn’t make any sense. This is not removal. This is destruction. Desecration. Somebody did this. Somebody-
Assess the situation.
A hole in the ground, approximately 1.5 feet in diameter.
Mud and grass flung outward but with little force.
Large chunks of earth turned over and shoved away.
No signs of tool marks or clean lines of entry into the dirt.
Dragging claw marks.
Staggering, shuffled pairs of foot prints in the mud.
A trail of dirt.
Something… Something large clawed its way out of the ground here. Something large and bipedal and- and humanoid.
Tim refuses to jump to any conclusions he can see all the facts laid in front of him. He’s going to cautiously follow the trail and simply hope to any god listening that he isn’t the world’s first line of defense against the zombie apocalypse.
He’s been walking for 23 minutes and there’s good news and undecided news. Good news: he’s closing in on the target and the trail isn’t taking him out of the way so his trip home won’t be prolonged. Undecided news: The potential Zombie Robin is heading directly for Wayne Manor.
As zombie apocalypse news, this is very bad. From Tim’s collected observational evidence, his not-so-professional opinion is that Batman, faced with a horror movie level zombie of his dead son, would not respond well, and would likely not fight back.
In Batman and Robin news? Tim’s unsure. If Jason is simply back? What could that mean for them? Batman can have his Robin. He wouldn’t have to continue nearly killing others and himself every night in his grief. Jason could-
No. Stop. Do not jump to conclusions.
Hope only brings heartbreak.
What would Batman do? Get close and see if the target is a threat.
Target is male. Mid-teens. Dark hair. Pale skin. Leaning against surfaces as he walks. Appears injured and disoriented.
Minimal risk assessed. Approaching and attempting contact.
Target identity confirmed: Jason Todd.
“J-Jason?” It comes out as a croaked whisper. Jason shows no sign of acknowledgment.
Tim clears his throat, steps right in front of his path, and tries again.
“Jason. Jason, stop I want to help you.” Still nothing.
“Please, Jason. I can help, I promise I can help!”
Why isn’t this working?! Why can’t he just do something right for once?! He wants this to work, he wants to help Bruce, he wants to fix Batman, he wants to not be alone, he wants-
“Robin!”
Robin jerks to a stop.
Tim reached out his hand.
“Robin. Robin please, I’m sorry you’re going through this, it’s really scary, I’m really scared. But I just want to help you. Help you find Batman. Help you get home.”
Jason just stares at him. Of course he does. Of course it’s not going to work. Why did he even bother hoping he could help?
Hope only brings heartbreak.
His sight blurs as his eyes fill with tears and he starts to lower his outstretched hand.
His arm is slowed as a cold hand weakly grasps his own.
“Don’t… scared… Bat… help… Dad… help.”
A relieved sob tears out from Tim’s chest and he gathers himself together. He yanks his extra sweater off and gently pulls it over Jason’s cold shoulders. Jason lets Tim drag his arm over his shoulders to try and carry some of his weight.
“Okay, Robin. Yeah. Your dad will help us.”
Batman will solve everything once Tim gets Robin home.
#Hello Mr. Batwayne forgive me for waking you but I brought your Jaybin home#Tim: I’m not jumping to conclusions!#also Tim: Holy fuck it’s the zombie apocalypse we’re all going to die#I know it seems like Tim might have some bat detective training but really he just watches a lot of cop shows and asks ‘wwbd?’ all the time.#writing this is the first thing I did as soon as I turned 27.#this was my birthday present to myself ig#not a ship pls n thx#batfam fanfic#batman#dc robin#dcu#batman and robin#jason todd#tim drake#red hood#ficlet#batfam#jason todd and tim drake#robin#red robin#shut up grandpa#fanfiction#‘’JASON! JASON STOP! LOOK AT ME! look at me. please. this isn’t you’’ ass dialogue 🙄
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i feel like people forget that sometimes characters in fic are written like that because it's a reflection of real life.
people have sex without setting boundaries. people have unprotected sex without talking about their sexual histories or producing recent sti tests. people play with kink without discussing it ahead of time or establishing a safeword. they have anal without 'enough' prep or lube—they may even prefer it like that.
and none of this is really a fantasy. it's all pretty normal. you can feel that it's inappropriately normalised, and you'd probably be right! but it is normalised: one study found that 58% of female undergraduate students on the campus studied had been choked during sex. 20% of those students said that they'd never been asked if it was ok; another 30% said they'd only sometimes been asked if they consented. fully half! (non-paywalled journal article on choking during sex here, including these numbers.) despite a rise in stis of all sorts, condom use is declining. (pdf link to the full text of this study about declining condom use in the us; aidsmap article about an australian study with similar results.)
even when people do talk about things—sex or anything else—they communicate imperfectly. 'yeah, but don't go too far' is consenting and setting a boundary, and also relying that the person you're talking to has the same metric for 'too far' that you do. for some people, 'the trash needs to go out' is a neutral, factual observation; for others, it's a request that the person they're speaking to take out the trash.
even when people understand each other perfectly, people react unpredictably to things sometimes! we behave irrationally! people laugh uncontrollably at funerals, or get angry at the straw that broke their back rather than the enormous load they were already carrying. they get scared and lash out at people trying to help them. when hurt, most people do not instinctively reach for therapy-approved grounding exercises and 'i feel' statements.
pretty much any bad choice that characters could conceivably make is a choice that people make in real life, on purpose, all the time. people do things that can have catastrophic, life-changing effects because it felt like a good idea at the time, or they're leaning into the vibe, or they just didn't think about it all that much, or an infinite number of other reasons.
fiction isn't intended as a guide on the best, safest, and most responsible ways to live your life, and fanfic isn't any different. it's not a narrative flaw to let characters do things that are messy or harmful or downright stupid—it's a reflection of what people are actually like, and not something that authors should feel they have to apologise for.
#fandom#fanfic#writing sex#writing#writing advice#i guess#i know no one is going to read this#but it just bums me the fuck out#people are messy and imperfect#it's part of what makes us interesting and fun tho#characters should be allowed to be messy and imperfect to#echoes linger
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𝕝𝕖𝕥’𝕤 𝕘𝕠, 𝕕𝕠𝕟’𝕥 𝕨𝕒𝕚𝕥 - 𝕖.𝕞.
![Tumblr media](https://64.media.tumblr.com/0be94a33e26a83544f74142dccb71d10/1182d18fc79ff8ad-76/s540x810/4999229f89c43b5bd358089be48a4a95cf118238.jpg)
eddie munson x shy fem reader
warnings: hope y’all like CHEESE, reader wears glasses
part two | part three
let’s go, don’t wait masterlist
a/n: this is incredibly self indulgent and lame but i hope y’all enjoy xx.
“You’re staring… again.”
Nancy says under her breath, which has your eyes immediately darting away and back down toward your lunch out of sheer embarrassment.
“I was not staring….” you hiss, picking at the pile of peas on your tray.
“Oh, you soooo were,” she laughs, knocking her shoulder into yours. “Why don’t you just go and talk to him?”
You let out an exasperated breath before glancing over at your best friend. She’s giving you that soft yet encouraging gaze that’s entirely Nancy.
“Why would someone like him be interested in someone like me?”
Your voice is softer, but that underlying fear bleeds through nonetheless.
“I’m just so….” you trail off, chewing on your lower lip. “Boring.”
Your eyes have drifted back over to the hellfire table, where they seem to find themselves almost every lunch period now. Totally entranced by the male sitting at the end of the table.
Eddie Munson, dungeon master and local metalhead. Also the guy you’ve been harboring the biggest crush on since your junior year.
He looks even prettier with the afternoon sun shining through the windows of the cafeteria, highlighting the warm chestnut hue of his fluffy curls. His lips are poised in an annoyed pout, fingers drumming on the table in rapid succession while he listens to Dustin’s nervous ramblings.
“He’s just so— outgoing and doesn’t give two shits what these dipshits around here think of him.”
Your lips can’t help but quirk up into a small smile when you witness him tossing a pretzel at Mike’s head.
“You are not boring,” Nancy sighs, her curls bouncing when she shakes her head. “But you’re not gonna know if something could work out between you if you don’t at least try.”
Your snort has her rolling her eyes, but yours are still transfixed on the boy in question. So much so that you haven’t noticed the way your glasses continue to slip down the bridge of your nose.
“I doubt he even knows my name, Nance.”
When your eyes suddenly catch his chocolatey brown ones, you feel mortified. You’ve been very careful about your…admiring during lunch or in between classes. But Nancy had momentarily distracted you, and now you’d been caught red handed.
Unbeknownst to you, this isn’t the first time he’s noticed your wandering gaze. Soft eyes that are filled with the utmost longing and kindness. Someone with a reputation such as Eddie Munson doesn’t have looks like that thrown his way very often.
So it’s no surprise he’s caught on.
But you don’t seem to notice the way he always glances back once you look away, dark eyes seeking out your figure in the halls. The longing of his own for you to finally meet his gaze. But your nose is either stuck in a book or those pretty eyes are trained on your feet.
It was maddening.
You quickly break his curious stare and jump to your feet, missing the way he shoots up from his own chair. You sling your backpack over your shoulder and leave your tray abandoned.
“I gotta go…I’ll see you later, Nance,” you say before she even has time to protest, keeping your head down as you make your way toward the exit.
Mentally still kicking yourself for being caught gawking at him like some bumbling idiot. But your heart leaps into your throat when you hear the slapping of sneakers on the linoleum behind you.
Before you can even process what’s happening you all but collide into a denim clad chest, gasping softly when his arms slip around your waist to catch you before you almost stumble backwards onto your ass.
“Whoa, easy there,” he chuckles, those same pouty lips quirking up into a lopsided grin. “Didn’t mean to scare ya…”
When he releases you, your whole body deflates— already missing the warmth of his palms. Even if it was only for a fleeting moment.
“Uh…sorry, did you need something?” you ask, unable to hide the confusion in your tone.
He purses his lips, twisting his rings on his fingers in almost a nervous manner.
Why would he be nervous?
“I just had a question is all…” he mumbles, “and honestly, I’ve been meaning to ask you this for a while now.”
And your heart nearly stops when he carefully pushes your glasses back up the bridge of your nose.
“You free tonight?”
#the freak writes 🫧#idk if this is any good#but I’m yearning so#eddie munson fluff#eddie munson fanfic#eddie munson blurb#eddie munson x fem!reader fluff#eddie munson x female reader#eddie munson x reader#eddie munson x y/n#eddie munson x you#[ series: let’s go—don’t wait ]#[ the munson files ]
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A bit of detective work
A continuation of this post, now separated so you don't have to scroll forever to get to the newest installment. Also: masterpost
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After escorting the Fentons back to their home, Batman, Wonder Woman, and Constantine mutually agreed it was best to stick around Amity Park for a little while. Constantine wandered off to look around on the civilian side, while Batman of course kept his promise to excuse Danny from school. Wonder Woman, also of course, kept with him. Sadly even as a very prominent member of the Justice League, well known to be one of the founders, somehow in situations like this it always took twice as long to get anywhere with civilians if he didn’t have at least one other League member with him.
“Hello, how can I help you?” the secretary asked with a forced grin as the two heroes entered the school’s front office.
“Good morning,” Diana said cheerfully, thankfully taking point. “I’m not sure who we should speak to, we’re here to excuse a student.”
“Oh, you are?” The secretary looked unsure, glancing back and forth between the two heroes.
“Yes, he’s currently marked with an unexcused absence, we’re here to change it to an excused absence.”
“Right…” the secretary squinted up at them suspiciously. Or rather, up at Diana suspiciously. “Well, if you would just hold on one moment please.” The secretary picked up an old style land line and pressed a button. “Principal Ishiyama, there’s a Mr. Batman and a… Ms. Wonder Woman here, they wish to speak about a student’s absence.” The secretary made a few “I’m listening” sounds before hanging up. They turned their attention back to the League members. “Principal Ishiyama’s office is just down that hall.”
“Thank you!” Diana beamed at the secretary before walking confidently down the hallway, Batman at his side.
The inside of Principal Ishiyama’s office is rather cramped,clearly intended pubescent children and not adults who keep such active lifestyles. Diana graciously sits in one of the austere, hard chairs. Batman chooses to remain standing.
“Now, what’s this all about?” Ishiyama asked, eyeing Wonder Woman warily.
How odd, it was usually Batman that everyone eyed suspiciously.
“We’re here about Daniel Fenton’s absence,” Diana started. She paused long enough for the principal to pull up the young man’s information. “The investigation is ongoing so we can’t give out any details, but last night we rescued Danny from kidnappers. He has been returned to his parents, but for obvious reasons he will not be back in school today.”
“Ah, I see,” the principal said. She did not seem to see. “And you want his absence excused?”
“If the police had come to you saying he’d been kidnapped,” Batman stated clinically.
“Yes, right, of course.” The principal set about clicking a few things on her computer before returning her full attention to the heroes. “Was there anything else?”
It was almost refreshing how easy that had been. Normally Batman would have to lay out what he meant in excruciating detail and have whoever was with him repeat it before a civilian in half a position of power listened to him, outside of Gotham anyway. “Dr. Madeline Fenton was upset not to have been informed of Danny’s absence,” Batman stated.
Ishiyama flinched, “Oh dear. Thank you for warning me, I shall look into that before they arrive later.” She rubbed the bridge of her nose.
“Dr. Madeline Fenton also stated that everyone in Amity Park knows about the Ghost King.”
“Ghost King?” The principal looked up in surprise, “What does he…? No wait, ongoing investigation.” She side eyed Diana warily, then sighed as she looked back towards Batman. “Last year the Ghost King got out of his sarcophagus, we still don’t know how, and pulled all of Amity Park into the Ghost Zone. Fortunately Phantom, along with the help of most of the town, managed to put him back in the sarcophagus.”
“Why didn’t you contact the Justice League for help?” Diana asked with a frown on her face.
“How were we supposed to do that from inside the Ghost Zone?” The principal asked with a raised brow. “By the time we were back in the real world everything was over and dealt with, aside from cleaning up all the damage his army of skeletons did.”
“And Phantom is?” Batman prompted.
“Out local hero, I suppose. At first he was a menace, but recently the good he does far outweighs the inevitable collateral damage.”
Batman leaned forward, looming over Ishiyama’s desk. “Are you aware the Justice League has programs specifically meant to give support to minors doing hero work?”
“I was not, but considering Phantom is a ghost we’re not sure exactly how old he is. Either way, you’re here now.”
“Yes, and we should speak with the mayor about the supervillain attack recovery programs the Justice League also has.”
Ishiyama smiled and nodded along, “That sounds like a wonderful idea.”
Once out of the school and walking towards city hall, Diana turned to Bruce. “Phantom is a minor?”
“He is described as appearing to be in his mid-teens, strangely no photos of him despite there being photos of other ghosts all over the residents’ social medias and newspaper articles.”
“That is odd,” Diana mused.
“This whole town is odd,” Constantine said as he sidled up to them. “Apparently getting sucked into, and I quote, the lime jello dimension by the ghost king is just another Tuesday here.”
“The principal called it the Ghost Zone,” Diana supplied.
“A silly thing to call the Infinite Realms, but not the silliest name it’s been given over the eons. What I don’t get is how Pariah Dark got bloody out for a day and not one single person noticed, that should’ve been a huge event everyone even remotely sensitive to æther should’ve felt.”
“You believe someone intentionally hid this event?” Batman asked.
“It’s the only thing that makes a lick of sense, but that would take either someone scarily powerful or a group of very powerful people. And that’s not even getting into the why.”
“Perhaps this cult wasn’t the first to attempt to summon him,” Batman mused darkly. “Someone chose to release him, and since Amity Park is already a ghost hotspot I can see why this is where they’d choose to attempt such a thing.”
Constantine nodded along, “I was thinking the same thing. But it gets worse, no one in the JLD has heard or sensed a single thing about this town before today. I’m thinking it’s less someone chose to cloak Pariah Dark specifically and more someone is cloaking the whole town and everything going on inside it.”
“Then how did whoever freed Pariah Dark know to come here for their attempt?” Diana asked, “How did this cult know enough to use one of the residents as a sacrifice?”
“Ain’t that just the million pound question?” Constantine asked airily. “Along with: how did they even get into the Infinite Realms to let the bloody tyrant out?” The group fell into silence, no one having an answer to that question. “So, what next?”
“We’re heading to the mayor’s office to make sure they’re aware of Justice League resources that are available to anyone who’s suffered from villain attacks,” Diana answered.
“Despite numerous attacks and complaints of collateral damage, not one request from Amity Park for villain attack relief,” Batman added.
“Now that is interesting,” Constantine said.
#dpxdc#danny phantom#dc comics#justice league#nenna writes#fanfic#also yes it seems we're going with the bamf fenton parents route#i still wanna do the other one with more eepy danny#but as always i am controlled by my muse#not the other way around
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