#my shitty fanfic
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Phantom x Swiss sad fic w comfort at the end
For some reason, I was feeling angsty today, and Phantom is such a sad little sop to me.
word count: 2.1k
Summary: Phantom thinks he's been forgotten when the other ghouls are preoccupied with their friends, so he hides away. Swiss figures out he's missing and goes to find him.
When all the touring ghouls returned to the ministry, they were met with hugs and tearful âI missed youâs. Even Aurora, anxious about being left out, was dragged along by Cirrus and Cumulus to meet Sunshine. Phantom wanted so badly to run over with Rain and Dew to meet Aether, but he didnât want to intrude. And anyway, if they wanted him to follow they wouldâve asked.
He watched as Swiss walked over to the ghoulettes, immediately falling into friendly banter as if theyâd never been separated at all. Phantom stood awkwardly to the side, wondering if anyone was going to turn around and invite him into their circles.
As the groups of ghouls started leaving, Phantom was struck with a feeling of deja vu. When he had first joined the tour, he had been freshly summoned in the ministry and then quickly shipped away with Aurora to start his job. Aurora was sweet to him, but he yearned for a pack. Dew making a point to ignore him was painful, but the ambivalence of the other ghouls was heartbreaking. They all eventually warmed to him, but Phantom still wondered if they harbored the same feelings about him.
He wondered if he could do anything to make them mad. Something that would make them so mad that they began ignoring him again. The thoughts hurt him, but they also gave him comfort. Whenever he did something bad, he used the thoughts to make himself feel better. It helped to picture the worst thing that could ever happen and know that whatever did happen would most likely be better comparatively.Â
Phantom knew he hadnât done anything bad. At least, he thought he hadnât. Rationally, he knew the other ghouls were probably preoccupied with greeting old friends, and theyâd find him eventually. He hoped.
In the back of his mind, though, a thought had started to chip away at his resolve. A small voice growing louder the longer he stood watching all the other happy ghouls. It grew angrier as more ghouls left the room with their friends, probably looking for a place to snuggle and catch up on lost time.Â
The voice was telling him he was worthless. The voice was calling Phantom whiny, and bothersome. That none of the ghouls actually liked him, they only put up with him because they felt bad for him.
Phantom started to believe the voice. He had understood why Dew had gone to Aether, and he had expected Swiss to go with Aurora, they had become rather close. But he thought maybe Rain would show him around the place. It was a large building and Phantom did feel a little overwhelmed. But no, all the ghouls had found their closest pack members and Phantom was left alone on the outskirts.Â
Phantom didnât want to bother anyone asking for directions to the ghoul den. Instead, he decided to walk through the halls until either he found it or found somewhere cozy to hide.Â
He just wanted somewhere dark where he could wallow in his own loneliness. He knew eventually someone must come looking for him. But heâd started to wonder how long that would take. How long until someone noticed he wasnât standing in the background like he always was.Â
He wanted to cry. Phantom just wanted a space where he could disappear for a while and not have to worry about anything. He wanted a space where nothing could hurt him, for at least a few hours. Heâd probably fall asleep and feel better once heâd woken up. It had been a long drive back to the ministry and he was probably just being dramatic.
Once he had found a sufficient storage room mostly empty apart from a few large boxes, he happily shut the door behind him and climbed into a small cabinet. It was long enough for him to curl up comfortably, but it was still snug enough to offer him the support he wanted. He felt safe enough to let go of his composure.
Phantom let his limbs fall free of the tension that had been straining him and the tears he had been holding back fell. He let all of the loud sobs escape. His tail came up between his legs and the small spade at itâs tip slipped into his mouth, giving him more comfort. He drifted off into a deep sleep, hugging himself tightly.
Swiss had been enjoying his lunch with the girls. He was starving from the ride home. Aurora was an easy friend for Sunshine, since they both had the same job. Swiss was purring with satisfaction that the little air ghoulette had warmed up so nicely with the others. He had been worried for the new ghouls. He knew firsthand how scary it could be meeting new people.
He had been wondering about Phantom. Swiss thought he saw the little quintessence ghoul following Rain and Dew to Aether, but he had lost sight of him as the girls were introducing Aurora to Sunshine. He was sure they mustâve shown him around the ministry first rather than taking him straight to the dining hall. Technically there was a kitchen in the ghoul den, but the ghouls sometimes found it easier just to visit the ministry dining hall and eat with the humans.
Swiss had decided to put it out of his mind and to focus on the food in front of him. There was no reason to worry, so he happily took another bite and listened to the story Sunshine was telling about Aether. It was something funny, but Swiss immediately forgot about it when he saw Dew, Aether, and Rain walk into the room noticeably without Phantom. His brow furrowed and he waited for them to pass by to stand up and walk with them.Â
Dew was less holding Aetherâs hand than hanging off his entire arm, but Rain was just casually holding onto Aetherâs right hand. Swiss grabbed onto Rainâs free hand.
âHey guys,â Swiss wanted to be direct, but still friendly, ânice to see you Aether, what happened to Phantom?â
Rain stopped walking and turned his head to look at Swiss. âI thought you were gonna show him around.â He looked concerned. Aether and Dew had also stopped and looked over. Dew looked puzzled.
âNo, I thought I saw him walking in with you guys, I was busy with Aurora.â Swiss was very confused. If none of the guys had shown him around, where was he now?Â
Swiss figured Phantom couldâve figured out the way to the den on his own, but the thought didnât make him feel great. The ministry was a big place, and the little bug couldâve gotten lost. Even if he did find his way to the den, how would he know which room was his? Swiss hoped his room smelled enough like him so the little ghoul could find it to hide away there until Swiss arrived.
âI saw him standing near you guys, I thought he was just waiting for you to finish introducing Aurora to Sunshine.â Dew stepped towards Swiss away from Aether. His voice sounded worried, but Swiss felt a flash of anger towards the fire ghoul. If he had seen Phantom by himself, why hadnât he chosen to include the little bug?
But then Swiss saw the way Aether leaned forward to place a comforting hand on Dewâs shoulder. Of course Dew wasnât paying attention to Phantom. He had just been reunited with his mate.
âIâm sure someone found him, everyone knows you guys returned today.â Aether was always good with reassurance, and Swiss could feel a touch of quintessence magic helping to calm him down. Now wasnât the time to get angry, now was the time to find Phantom.
Aether, Dew, and Rain had agreed to help Swiss find Phantom. Aether separated from them to go find Omega to let him know Phantom was missing just in case someone brought him to the infirmary.Â
Rain offered to check the ghoul den. If Phantom wasnât there, there was a possibility another ghoul had seen him somewhere.
That left Dew and Swiss to search the rest of the ministry. Dew was going to check the upper levels quickly, while Swiss spent more time on the ground level. Phantom was more likely to either stay on the ground level than go upstairs.
Swiss was making swift progress through the rooms. The ones in use by humans or ghouls were easy, everyone fell victim to his easy charm and let him know they hadnât seen any quintessence ghouls.
He had been trying to use his nose, looking for the little ghoulâs sweet citrus scent. Occasionally he thought heâd get a whiff, but then heâd immediately lose it amongst the other scents. He wished his nose was as good as Dewâs or Cirrusâs. It was his hearing that was much more sensitive. Â
It was a good thing he had both of these senses. When he entered a small dark storage room, he wouldnât have thought anything of the largely barren place, but something was off. The place smelled of Phantom, but it had faded in intensity. The scent was still present, but it wasnât as bright as it normally was. Swiss wished he had spent more time telling Phantom how addicting he smelled. Swiss could spend days with his nose against Phantomâs neck, just huffing it in. He couldnât decide if it smelt more like limes or lemons, and on some days it threw Swiss for a loop by being more orange-ish. He loved it.
The scent wasnât the only giveaway. Swiss could also hear soft snoring coming from a cabinet at the end of the room.
Swiss quickly went to the cabinet and opened it up slowly, not wanting to startle Phantom. The little quintessence ghoul was sleeping curled into himself, facing away from Swiss. He noticed Phantomâs tail was tucked and he had his claws tightly clutching into his shoulders. It was an obvious attempt at self-soothing.
Swiss wanted so badly to grab the little ghoul and just hold him. He had really fucked up. As badly as Swiss wanted to comfort the ghoul, he was also worried about Phantomâs state of mind when he would awaken. What if Phantom didnât want comfort? What if Phantom was angry? Swiss was ready to accept whatever responsibility fell to him. He would happily grovel in sorrow at the feet of Phantom. It was all his fault.
Swiss decided to rip off the bandaid and wake up the sleeping ghoul. Sitting on his knees in front of the cabinet, he reached out a hand to softly shake Phantomâs shoulder.
At first the quintessence ghoul didnât respond. Eventually he woke with a flinch, seemingly unprepared to be disturbed. He quickly flipped to see who had found him, and broke down in tears once again.
Swiss wasnât exactly expecting this, but he grabbed the little ghoul nonetheless. Lifting him out of the cabinet from under his arms, Swiss cradled the lanky ghoul in his lap against his chest, gently shushing him and telling him it was alright.
âLittle bug,â speaking softly, Swiss asked, âwhy didnât you come with me?â He just wanted the little ghoul to feel safe.
Phantom sniffled, his head resting just beneath Swissâs chin. âI thought you didnât want me.âÂ
âWhy would you think that? Of course I want you, my sweet creature.â Swissâs heart felt like it was snapping in two.
Phantom looked up at Swissâs face, wanting to see if he was being genuine. âYou all seemed busy with your friends, I didnât want to interrupt you.â Phantom raised a hand to wipe at his tears.
âI thought Dew was going to show you around, but Dew thought I had you.â Swiss wanted to make sure Phantom knew no one had forgotten about him. âIt was a huge misunderstanding and we were all looking for you the second we realized.â
âReally?â Phantomâs eyes went big with amazement, and he smiled for the first time since Swiss had found him. Swiss was happy to note that his scent had started to become sweeter as well.
âYes, of course, little bug. Letâs get you to the den so they can all see youâre safe.â Swiss was beaming as well. He was glad Phantom didnât seem too torn up. When the others all spent time cooing over him, Swiss was sure everything would be better.
âCan we nap in your room after?â Phantom asked jovially, sounding as though heâd forgotten all about the whole situation that led to him sleeping in an empty storage cabinet.
âOf course, my little cuddle bug,â Swiss said as he stood up, picking up Phantom bridal style, ready to carry the ghoul all the way to the den.
#swiss army ghoul#swiss ghoul#phantom ghoul#swiss x phantom#the band ghost#ghost band#my shitty fanfic
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The second part is starting to get posted.

https://archiveofourown.org/works/61903012/chapters/158283778
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âAlienate.â Flo mutters, the first thing Phil Callahan hears when he enters the station. âNo, that's eight letters. Darn.âÂ
âHowâs the crossword, Miss Flo?â He asks, as he always asks, every morning.Â
Itâs part of a little routine heâs established with their doting receptionist, partly out of boredom, mostly because she sometimes asks him for help. Â
If thereâs one thing Phil enjoys doing, itâs helping.
(Itâs why he became a cop, after all.)
âHi, hun. Iâm stuck.â Flo responds, staring down at the New York Times spread out before her.Â
Itâs a quiet Friday morning and a quick glance at the open and dark-empty office of the Chief says the manâs not in yet, and so Callahan rounds the big wooden desk to stare at the puzzle over Floâs shoulder.Â
âWhich one?â He asks, seeing most of itâs already been filled out.Â
Flo jabs a finger at the offending clue, her nails painted a light pastel blue. âPushed away through inattention.â She reads dutifully, then traces her finger to the blank section of the crossword, tapping at it. âNine letter word.âÂ
Phil cocks his head, thinks it through.Â
âIt wasnât alienate.â Flo says, non-helpfully.Â
âIgnored?â Phil tries.
âThatâs seven letters.âÂ
They both stare down at the puzzle, the black and white squares taunting them.Â
âNeglected.â Phil says suddenly, triumphant. âIt has to be neglected--the word has to end with a D to make sense in the puzzle. See?âÂ
One of two words that crosses over with their missing piece is âabandonedâ, which fits nicely with the apparently gloomy theme of todayâs crossword.Â
âDoesnât work with the other word that goes through it though.â Flo points out, defeating the proud little glow that had been building in Philâs head.Â
The other bisecting word is âisolatedâ, making him wonder if the puzzlemaker is in the middle of a rough divorce.Â
(Or maybe just a rough day, and heâs the one projectingâŚ)Â
âWell, hell.â Phil grumbles, staring down at it.Â
âTry estranged!â Powell calls as he passes by with a mug full of coffee.Â
Flo carefully pencils in âestrangedâ and makes a pleased noise when it fits.Â
âThank you, hun!â She calls, and Phil huffs at himself for not seeing it, but also refuses to let Powellâs one upping ruin his day.
The man himself offers their receptionist a smile, before tossing a casual reprimand Philâs way. Â
âCallahan, get to work, would you?âÂ
âYeah, yeah, smartypants.â He says, going to fetch his own cup of coffee. âSave the bitching for the Chief.âÂ
Powell rolls his eyes at him, and Callahan makes a face back, and the two of them go on to have a very boring, small town cop sort of day--right until a legitimate call finally comes in.Â
Well.
Sort of.Â
âThe Harrington residence is having a too-loud party again.â Hopper says, having finally shown up sometime between nine and noon. âDrunk teenagers are throwing up in peopleâs lawns.âÂ
âItâs not even dark yet.â Powell mutters, staring at the clock as if he couldnât imagine a party taking place before 8 pm.Â
âTeenagers donât care about that shit, thatâs why theyâre getting the cops called on them.â Hopper snips back. Heâd been in a mood all day, and not the fun, jolly kind.Â
âCome on Callahan, letâs go remind Harrington Jr. that itâs his daddy that owns this department, not him.â
âI wish you wouldnât joke about that.â Phil says as he follows Hopper out the door, waving goodbye to Flo as he goes. âPeople are going to think youâre serious.âÂ
(Sometimes, Phil thinks as he swings into the patrol truck, that Hopper is serious.Â
That they are being paid to look the other way.Â
Then he takes a sip of their god-awful coffee and hears Hopperâs ancient truck cough to life, and figures, if anyone was getting cash here, there would at least be evidence of it.)Â
xXxÂ
Harrington Jr.âs party isnât quite the chaotic disaster it was made out to be, though there are a handful of tipsy teenagers stumbling around the lawn.
âOne of these idiots is going to drown in that damn pool someday.â Hopper complains through gritted teeth as he storms up the driveway, kids scrambling into action the second they spot him.Â
One loudly screams; âCops!â and the rest of them scatter, running in so many directions it makes Philâs head spin. He briefly moves as if to give chase before deciding thereâs simply too many to bother.Â
(Knows that itâs unlikely theyâll arrest anyone but Harrington tonight, anyway.)
âIf the right kid bites it, Dick Harrington might even have to come deal with it personally.â Over his shoulder Hopper tosses Phil a sharkâs smile, barging up the porch to bang hard on one of the two front doors. âWouldnât that be a sight to see?âÂ
âNo, not really.â Phil says, because heâs thinking about dead teenagers in pools.Â
âAlso I donât think Richard likes to be called Dick.â He adds cautiously, just in case the man himself happens to be home.Â
Itâs unlikely, doubly so given all the drunk minors, but that just means Phil isnât surprised when itâs not the Vice President of Indiana Corporate Consulting, LLC that opens the door but his son, Steve.Â
âOfficers.â The kid drawls, shirtless in swim trunks, not a single strand of his perfectly styled hair out of place. âWhat can I do for you?â
He leans casually in the doorway, as another kid screams out a warning inside.Â
âYou can cut the shit.â Hopper says. âYou know the drill. Turn around and put your hands behind your back.âÂ
Harrington does neither of those things, instead tilting his head and making a face like he just smelled something foul.Â
âIâm not drunk. And anyone who is drunk brought it without telling me. You should go arrest them.â Steve  jams a thumb over his shoulder, pointing at the rapidly emptying house.Â
Then he smirks at both of them, every inch the newly crowned King the kids insist on calling him.Â
âYou think your old man is gonna believe that?â Hopper snarls, infuriated. He never was one that dealt well with teenagers. Or at least, these kinds (and that damn Munson kid, who just loved stealing everybodies lawn flamingos.)Â
âI think youâll find âmy old manâ,â Steve mockinly mimics, âdoesnât care.â
âHe will when the neighbors start calling.â Hopper tosses back as Phil pushes past Harrrington Jr. to begin the process of trying to wrangle drunk teenages. âThatâs Janet Wilkinsonâs prized hydrangeas Haganâs been throwing up in. You wanna see what happens when she talks to your mother?âÂ
âShe has to get a hold of my mother to talk to her.â Steves snarks, instead of pulling out his usual charm. âWhy do you think she called you instead?âÂ
This isnât Philâs first call to the house, but it is the first time Harrington Jr. has been this combative. Itâs new, but not exactly unexpected.Â
Not when Steve Harrington has been hurtling towards this ever since he started hosting parties.Â
âYou think your parents wonât care when I call them?â
âWell they havenât before, so--âÂ
Phil rolls his eyes as the kid and Hopper trade more barbs, the adultâs growing sharper and sharper as Steve makes a couple of arguments about being held accountable for other peopleâs actions (and something else about unreasonably high standards and making his own bail.)Â
Let's them argue it out as he quickly realizes he will definitely not be catching teenagers, and pivots to scanning for too-drunk stragglers in need of help.Â
âKeep running your mouth, Harrington, and Iâll let you cool your heels overnight in a jail cell. That what you want?â
âYou already did that, remember? Swore youâd never do it again because I was too annoying.â
âYou canât annoy me if Iâm not the one there watching you--âÂ
Phil tunes out the rising voices, his attention snagging on something else.
The Harringtonsâ entryway was sparse, and the rooms beyond werenât much better. The whole house had the sterile feel of a museum;Â untouched and unlived in.Â
Not even a swarm of teenagers had managed to leave much of a mark. Or at least, not in these few rooms, anyway.Â
Which is what makes the scraggly note stand out.
Itâs taped to the wall right above the phone, but slightly askew, like itâd been thought of last-minute. A little crumpled, like someone half-heartedly tried to peel it off before giving up and pressing it back down.
âWho puts a phone in the entryway?â Phil wonders, but then, it is the Harringtonâs.Â
Maybe they need it to find each other in this huge fucking house.Â
He leans in to read the note, spotting the bold letters at the bottom informing everyone the entire notepad had been custom ordered for RICHARD HARRINGTON, VP.Â
âDarling,â beautiful cursive starts, at odds with the footnote, âSorry that we couldnât get a hold of you. Your father had a business opportunity, you know how important those are. Iâll send you a postcard. Take care of the house, remember that Martha is coming on Wednesdays now to get the dry cleaning. Do something fun for your birthday!âÂ
Itâs signed XOXO, Muffin.Â
Muffin is, of course, Richard Harringtonâs wife, and also a walking punchline. Or at least she is when people arenât tripping over themselves to stay on her good side.
Weird that she signed it as such instead of with âMomâ, but then Muffin always has been a bitâŚmuch.Â
More importantly (besides the fact that they skipped out on their own kids birthday) is the date at the top, which says the note was left Tuesday, March 17th.Â
Itâs currently the middle of May.
Floâs crossword springs to mind, each guessed word clicking into place beside Steveâs own, still warm, spoken just moments ago.
Abandoned, and âShe has to get a hold of my mother to talk to her.âÂ
Ignored and âI think youâll find my old man doesnât care.âÂ
A cold realization sweeps through Phil, as he recalls the things theyâve all heard other kids say about Steve.Â
No parents.Â
Big house.Â
Always down for a good time.Â
(âNeglect is the failure to give somebody proper care or attention.â Powell had argued on their lunch break, as Phil complained that âneglectedâ fit the stupid crossword better than âestrangedâ had.Â
âEstranged works because itâs when youâre not really talking to someone. Hence the pushing away part. Theyâre different. Similar! But different.âÂ
âThatâs dumb.â Phil argued back.Â
âYouâre dumb.â Powell replied, then laughed when Phil gasped in mock offense. âItâs why youâre getting taken to the cleaners in your divorce!â
âHey man, come on, too far!â
âSorry, sorry--â )Â
All copâs develop intuition, even the small town ones, and Philâs kicks in as he stares at the note.Â
Neglected might be a hard sell for a fifteen year old that drives a BMW, but estranged definitely fits the bill.Â
(Heâs pretty sure neglect does fit the fucking bill no matter how much money the kids parents have, but heâs been on the force long enough to know how these things go.)Â
He turns on his heel and marches over, sticking himself right in between his boss and the only remaining teenager.Â
âWhere are your parents at, again?â He asks, right over whatever point Hopper was butchering.Â
âWhat?â Steve and Hopper both say, before giving the other a look for it.Â
âDo you know where your parents are at?â Phil asks again, switching up the wording a little just like theyâd taught him in the academy.Â
âUhâŚNo?â Steve says, seeming too startled to lie. âYouâd have to call dadâs receptionist.âÂ
âOkay. And when are they coming back?âÂ
This time Steve tosses a look at Hopper, like Philâs the one being weird here.Â
âWhen they get back.â He says, and itâs like heâs trying to still sound tough, to put forth that King persona, but is fumbling a little now that itâs not Hopper who's asking the questions.Â
âSo you have no idea, at all.â He clarifies, and feels his stomach sink a little.Â
âI mean, I could also call dadâs receptionist.â Steve says, like that makes it better. Â
âWhose in charge of you while theyâre gone?â And yes he knows itâs a stupid question, knows that Steve is fifteen (he thinks, anyway) and is perfectly old enoughÂ
â...I am.â Steve says, right over Hopperâs annoyed; âWhat the hell, Callahan.âÂ
âChief, can I talk to you?â He says, turning to face his boss.Â
Hopper stares back at him in disbelief, before making a show of summoning the last of his patience with a loud sigh.Â
âYou.â He points at Steve. âSit. Stay.â
âWant me to shake too?â Harrington Jr calls out in an attempt to recover, but Philâs got a hand on Hopperâs elbow and is dragging the older man away before he can get sucked back in.Â
âYou better have found something good Callahan.â Hopper warns, as Phil snatches the note on the wall as they pass by.Â
âHopper,â Phil says quietly, leaning in as he pulls Hopper all the way into the kitchen, kicking empty solo cups as he goes. âI donât think his parents have been home in a while.â
He shoves the note in the Chiefâs face.Â
âNo shit, kid.â Hopper spits, and the nickname sits badly, now that Philâs heard it spat at Steve the same way.Â
(Hopper doesnât mean it, Phil knows he doesnât.Â
Hopperâs the best boss Philâs ever had. The guyâs just a little rough sometimes, gets lost in the little things and needs to be brought back down.Â
âHeâs got a lot going on, hun, but weâll get him there.â Flo says when heâs been really mean, and Phil knows they will, heâs seen it himself, but sometimes he wishes whatever the Chief was healing from would let him go a little faster.)Â
He grabs the note, eyes scanning over it, and Phil talks a little faster.Â
âNo, I mean, look at the date, Chief. Theyâve been gone for months.âÂ
Hopper looks up from the note and gives him the worldâs flattest state. âSo?â
Phil gapes a little at him. âIsnât that abandonment?âÂ
In response, Hopper simply steps more into the kitchen, then throws open a door next to the stove. Reveals a huge, walk-in pantry, piled high with all kinds of food.Â
Stands next to it like itâs a party trick he just unveiled.Â
âGiven the lights are on and that fancy little car of his seems to have gas, Iâd say theyâre providing for the kid just fine.â He says crossly.Â
Which isnât wrong exactly, but itâs not right either.Â
âYeah,â Phil protests, âbut--âÂ
âTrust me, things could be a lot worse.â Hopper cuts him off. âSave all the pity for someone who actually needs it, and not a kid whose parentsâ lawyers will cut both our balls off for even suggesting they donât care about their kid.âÂ
âHarsh, Chief.â Phil mutters, stung. Thereâs a small, growing voice in his head that says Steve Harrington does kind of need someone.
That a kid, even one as old as Steve is, shouldnât be left like this.Â
âLifeâs harsh. Now unless youâre volunteering to watch the kid all night in a cell, I say we call the bratâs parents and this time, weâre gonna hit them with a citation when they get home. See if they ignore that.âÂ
âPlease do!â Steve calls loudly, from where heâs still seated on the couch. âItâll be funny, trust me.âÂ
Hopper goes to pinch the bridge of his nose, before glancing sideways at the island counter covered in solo cups and bottles.Â
Changes course to pluck an unopened whiskey bottle from the pile, tucking it under his arm.Â
Storms back out to whatever the Harringtonâs call the room Steveâs in, pausing only to stop in front of him.Â
âHey.â Steve says, spotting the bottle.
Hopper holds it out. âOh, Iâm sorry, is this yours?âÂ
Steveâs mouth opens, before he catches Callahanâs shaking head. Thinks better of it, and slams it back closed.Â
Grumbles; âNo, sir.âÂ
âOh itâs sir now, is it?â Hopper says with a snort. âSince youâre so good at eavesdropping, you already know what Iâm going to do. Congratulations Harrington, you get out of jail tonight, but,âÂ
He leans forward, putting himself almost nose to nose with the surely teenager, âI will be making sure that this time, your parents pay attention.âÂ
Quick as a shot heâs up and out the door, slamming it close behind him like he forgot Phil was there.Â
âGood luck!â Steve shouts after him, but itâs clear even he thinks the Chief won their little sparring match.Â
âHave your parents really been gone since March?â Phil says when the coast is clear, and watches Steve blink at him like he hadnât realized the younger officer was still there.Â
âYeah.â Steve says with a shrug, like itâs not a big deal. âEvery kidâs dream.âÂ
Itâs not. Even Phil can tell from the way Steveâs face looks just then, that he knows itâs not.Â
He doesnât know what exactly posses him, but the next words out of his mouth are; âYou ever get too lonely here, you can stay with me.âÂ
âWhat?â Steve says, eyes snapping right to Philâs face like he misheard him.Â
Heâs embarrassed for two entire seconds before deciding, fuck it.Â
He already offered, heâs not taking it back.Â
âItâs a big house, kid. You shouldnât be alone for that long.â Phil thinks about his impending divorce. On the emptiness of the house, with his soon to be ex wife long gone. How that eats at him, sometimes. Adds; âNo one should be.â Â
Harrington Jr. stares at him like heâs lost his mind. âWhatever.â He scoffs, but itâs not quite the waspish tone heâd used before.Â
âYou ever need help either, you call me.â Phil says, because that seems important to say too.Â
He points up at one of the chandeliers hanging from the ceiling, impossibly high over both their heads. âEven if itâs just to hold a ladder to change one of those lightbulbs.âÂ
Steveâs eyes go up with him then back down, like heâs still not sure this isnât a joke being played on him.Â
âI mean it.â Phil says, right as one of the front doors whips back open. Reaches into the pocket of his uniform, and pulls out his card. âYou need me, you call.âÂ
âCallahan!â Hopper bellows, and Phil calls out a loud; âComing!â before making eye contact with Steve once more.
âTake it.â He says, holding out the card, and hopes he sounds like a proper adult when he does.Â
(Phil often does not feel like an adult, least of which because heâs the youngest in the department by two decades, nevermind the failed marriage.)Â
âOkay.â Steve says dismissively, but he reaches out.
Takes the card.
It feels like a victory and Phil lets it be one as he leaves the Harrington residence and Steve behind with it. Feels the rot of that be soothed by the fact he at least did something.Â
(Also seeâs Hopper didnât wait for him, but is instead sitting in the driverâs seat of the truck.Â
Knows his boss is gonna be pissed at him, but faces the noose anyway.)Â
âPuppies are expensive.â The Chief tells him darkly, the second Phil opens the door. âAnd they shit all over the floor.â
âWhat?â He asks, not always used to his bosses nonsensical ramblings.Â
He eyes the thermos the Chiefâs holding, and wonders if already dumped the whiskey he stole in it.Â
They all thought the Chief had been getting better, but maybe notâŚÂ
âPuppies,â Hopper stressed, jamming the hand holding the thermos in Philâs face (no liquor smell, thank God.) âwho have very rich owners, are typically well cared for, even if their idea of care and your idea are different.âÂ
Philâs face contorts in confusion, eyes following Hopperâs finger pointed middle finger to the fading tail lights of Steveâs BMW.Â
It takes him a second, but he gets there.
âSteve isnât a puppy.â He says instantly offended, because teenagers and puppies are very, very different, thanks, and yes okay, he knows itâs a metaphor, but itâs a stupid one.Â
âActs like one.â Hopper says, before taking a noisy sip of the thermos.Â
âHe really doesnât?âÂ
Phil wants to say he complains right back at his boss, but really it comes out as more of a question--because Steve Harrington has never acted like a dog. The kidâs not clingy, or whiny or even loud.Â
Heâs a kid, sure, a teenager thatâs obnoxious, but arenât all teenagers that way, by default?
Philâs mother certainly said so, though sheâd been teasing about it.Â
(She also said something about how kids who canât get what they need the right way, will revert to trying out the wrong ways instead.)Â
âWhatever. Just donât come running to me when you get too close and Mommy and Daddy show up to remind you itâs none of your business.â
Hopper starts the cruiser, expecting that to be that.
And normally it would be. Phil would leave it alone, even if he disagreed, but today he finds he canât.Â
Not when the words from Floâs crossword are still haunting his head, âabandonedâ and âneglectedâ and âpushed awayâ lighting up like little warning signs, all pointing towards one very sad kid.Â
âIf they come back.â He finds himself saying.Â
âOh, they always come back.â Hopper snorts right back. âJust not when any of us ever want them too.âÂ
Phil doesnât like that answer, but this time he does leave it alone.Â
Figures the best he can do for Steve is what he already did. Let him know he saw him. Let him know he understood.Â
If Steve needs someone, he now knows Phil will come.Â
He wonât let anyone make him feel bad for offering that, either, because this is the exact thing he signed up to do, when he became a cop.Â
Even if Harrington never reaches out to him, at least Phil can say he did something. At least he can live with himself.Â
xXx
Weeks go by.
A month.
Two months and more.
By a year Phil has kind of forgotten about his promise to Steve Harrington, and by the time the Chief has gotten them all involved in some kind of--poisoned pumpkin patch problem, heâs too caught up in trying to figure out what the hell is going on in Hawkins to really think about it.Â
That is, until the kid himself shows up on his doorstep, with a black eye and a hand hugging his ribs.Â
Which would be concerning on its own, but itâs worse given that known lawn flamingo thief and constant pain in the police departmentâs ass, Eddie Munson, is right there with him.Â
âHi Officer Callahan.â Munson says, and he, Phil quickly realizes, looks perfectly fine, despite clearly being the only reason Steve seven on his feet. âUhâŚHarrington said I should take him here?âÂ
He does not sound certain, and frankly, looks two seconds from bolting.
Given how much Steve is bleeding on him, Phil canât blame him for it.Â
âWhat the hell.â He says, shocked and loose tongued for it. âDid you two get in a fight!?âÂ
âNo!â Munson yelps, then immediately stills when the act of it jostles Steve. âI found him like this. He was fucking trying to drive and was weaving all over the place--I got him to stop, and get in my van, but the only thing heâll say is that I needed to bring him to you!âÂ
Like it wasnât bad enough the chief had been out of contact all night or that there had been weird people swarming all over town, nevermind all those damn phone calls about loose dogs and--
âYou said.â Steve interrupts Philâs spiraling thoughts, voice sounding oddly strangled, and he'd pay more attention to that if he wasnât finding new and concerning injuries every second he looked.Â
âYou said I could go to you, for help. If I needed it. Cause Hopper--Hopperâs busy,â Steveâs slurring, Phil realizes and oh god a lot of that blood is on his head, âAnâ I didnât want the kids to worry, but I thinkâŚi was wrong, I donât--I think IâmâŚI donât wanna be âlone--â Â
âOkay, okay.â Phil reaches out, tries to take Steveâs weight off of Munson. âGet in here. You too, Munson.âÂ
Expects the latter to protest and is a little surprised to watch as the kid instead helps Steve hobble inside.Â
âPut him on the couch while I get my first aid kit.â Phil orders, trying not to panic and failing. He has first aid training--more than, actually, because he took it as an elective back when he thought he was going to go to medical school, but that was years ago and Steve looks like he went head first through a blender.Â
âStabilize him now, panic later.â He orders himself, as Munson settles both of them down on the couch.Â
âAm I dying?â Steve asks vaguely, to Munsonâs increasingly panicked face.Â
âNope.â Phil says, voice as firm as he can make it. âNot today.âÂ
He comes over, looking over Steve once againÂ
âYou staying Munson?â He asks, more an out for the kid than anything else.Â
Watches as the older teen clocks that for what it is.Â
Seeâs Steve unintentionally lean into his chest, breathing a little weird.Â
âNo man, youâre going to need an extra hand.â Eddie says. âIâm staying right here.âÂ
âMe too.â Steve slurs nonsensically.
âWhat the hell, me too.â Phil says, just to lighten the mood a little.Â
Then he drops to his knees and goes about stabilizing Steve.Â
(At some point Munson decides to help tell his latest flamingo heist story. Phil let him, even if no one had realized heâd pulled off another one again.
He got Steve to laugh, so Phil figures it was worth it, at least. )Â
Part Two
#I blame all the callahan stuff going around for this#it bit me#Stranger things#phil callahan#Steve Harrington#King Steve vs Phil of all people clocking that he's being neglected#also its the 80s so dumping your teenage kid for months was more uh#normal#and less What The Fuck worthy even for the cops#Phil does NOT agree#some pre steddie here if you squint#and an alt S2 meeting#Eddie absolutely steals lawn flamingos#he stages wars with them#Hoppers kind of shitty here but Hopper has also been dealing with a lot#he would have put Steves ass in a hospital if he had clocked Steve was that bad off in S2#0o0 fanfics#in which Phill Callahan of all people#adopts steve harrington#beat to shit Steve harrington#my favorite tag
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Fanart of Chapter 18 of THE fic: Rev up, Power up (You have a child, idiot)
Ninni is doing a way better job than me to keep the Pregnant Jayce propaganda alive so go check their fic up, please, IT'S SO GOOD, updates almost everyday (HOW?)
#pila's shitty art#pila'sart#my art#jayvik#viktor arcane#jayvik fankid#jayvik fanfic#fic rec#seriously ninni. HOW? I can't even finish chapter one of my own fic#share your powers with the class
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30 for 30 (ii.) â vi (league of legends) !
⢠synopsis. you swear you would be in peace if it wasnât for her. but this kept you on your toes, you guessed. just the way you liked it. besides, everyone knew that falling in love with your best friendâs older sister only led to trouble.
⢠contains. afab!reader, arcane!vi, feminine characteristics, angst, lesbians, lots and lots of longing, the reader is lowkey insane i cannot lie, vi is kinda toxic but we love her anyway, modern!au, nsfw, fingering, oral, really bad ending sorry, SMUT 18+.
⢠word count. 11k+
⢠part one: 30 for 30 (i.)
⢠authors note. i have been working on this for the last 6 weeks and i have lived so many lives through this fic. christmas passed, then new years, and then my abuelo died a few days ago. no one talk to me for a while, please.
Youâd grown so used to ignoring that festering ache in your chest that when your phone rang late one night, her name on the screen, it caught you off guard. Her voice was slurred, rough and frayed around the edges. Drunk. She asked if you could pick her up from some bar you didnât know, mumbling something about not wanting her family to see her like this.
The drive to the bar had felt surreal, a heavy quiet filling the car as you tried not to overthink why sheâd called you . And now, as she sat slumped in the passenger seat of your dadâs old car, it felt no less strange. The dim glow of the streetlights flickered across her face, catching on her freckles and the faint blush on her cheeks. Her head lolled against the window, her hair sticking out in places, the faint scent of alcohol clinging to her like an unwelcome shadow.
Vander and Silco used to tell you that you were family, but as you stole glances at her from the corner of your eye, it struck you how distant she felt. There was a chasm between youâone you werenât sure either of you could cross. The thought lingered in your chest like a weight, growing heavier as the silence stretched on.
When you pulled into the driveway, she was half-asleep, a faint flush stained her freckled cheeks. Her arm was heavy as you draped it over your shoulder, her weight pressing into you as she stumbled out of the car. She muttered something incoherent, her breath warm against your neck.
âJust a little farther,â you murmured, your voice steady, though your pulse was anything but.
Inside your room, the mess was almost comfortingâa reminder of who you were before moments like these blurred the lines. You eased her down onto the bed, her arm slipping from your shoulders as she collapsed with a muffled groan, burying her face in the pillow.
âVi,â you said softly, crouching to tug off her boots. âYouâll feel better ifââ
âStop fussing,â she muttered, her voice slurred but tinged with familiar defiance. âMmm.... Not a kid.â
You couldnât help the faint smile that tugged at your lips, though it didnât reach your eyes. âCouldâve fooled me.â
Her lips curved into a crooked smirk, one eye cracking open just long enough to meet yours. But it wasnât her usual sharp, teasing look. It was softer, tired. Vulnerable in a way that made you hold your breath.
You finished pulling off her boots, setting them aside, and you draped a blanket over her. For a moment, you lingered, your eyes tracing the curve of her jaw, the way her features softened in sleep. Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to reach out, to brush your fingers against hers, to ease the weight she carried even for a secondâbut you didnât.
The door felt heavier than it should have as you turned to leave.
âHey.â
Her voice stopped you mid-step, quiet but insistent. You turned to find her half-awake, her gaze unfocused yet pinned on you.
âYeah?â you asked, your throat dry.
âThanks,â she murmured, your name slipping from her lips like an afterthought, though it struck you like a blow.
You nodded, swallowing hard, and left before your resolve could falter.
Your fingers twitched at your sides. You wanted to touch herâjust her hand, her shoulder, anything to ground yourself in this momentâbut you knew better. So, you turned to leave, the sound of her voice stopping you in your tracks.
âHey.â
You turned, your pulse quickening. She was still half-asleep, her gaze unfocused as she stared in your direction.
âYeah?â you asked softly.
âThanks,â she muttered, your name slipping from her lips in a way that made your chest ache.
You nodded, swallowing the lump in your throat, and reached for the door.
But later, when you came back to check on her, you found her sitting on the floor by the bed. Her back pressed against the frame, her knees drawn up, and her hands clutched a photo from your desk. Her knuckles were pale where they gripped the frame. Her thumb traced over Claggorâs face, back when he was just a chubby kid with a grin too big for his face.
âVi?â you called gently, stepping closer.
She didnât look up. Her voice was low. âIâm such a fuck-up.â
The words hit harder than you expected, knocking the air from your lungs. You sank to the floor beside her, your shoulder brushing against hers.
âYouâre not a fuck-up,â you said quietly.
She scoffed, her gaze fixed on the photo.
You hesitated, then offered a small, almost shy smile. âI think youâre cool.â
That earned a laughâquiet, shaky, but real. She glanced at you, unshed tears clinging to her lashes, catching the faint light and making her eyes shimmer. Her lips twitched into a sad grin. âYou think Iâm cool?â She asked, wiping hastily at her face with the back of her hand, a hollow snort slipping out. âJesus, what are we, ten?â
You shrugged, the heat crawling up your neck almost unbearable. âIâll always think youâre cool.â
Her smile faltered, her expression shifting into something quieter, something raw. Her gaze softened, lingering on you, and it felt like she was searching for something.
âYeah?â she asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
You swallowed hard, nodding. âYeah.â
For a moment, the air between you felt impossibly heavy, thick with words left unspoken. Then she let out a slow breath, her shoulders slumping against the bed frame. âI just... I wanna be a good person. For my family.â
The vulnerability in her voice hit you like a punch to the gut. âYou are a good person, Vi,â you said, your tone steady, though your chest ached with the effort to keep it that way. âI think you are. And they think you are, too.â
She blinked at you, her eyes softening further. The lines of her faceâusually so sharp, so guardedâmelted into something tender, something that made it impossible to look away. The freckles across her nose stood out against her flushed skin, and the faint scar cutting through her brow caught your eye, an anchor in another sea of thoughts that threatened to drown you. The tattoo along her cheekbone seemed softer now, framed by the dim glow from the bedside lamp, its edge catching the shadow of her jawline.
She tilted her head slightly, her gaze locking with yours, and her lips curved into a wider smile. âYouâre not so bad yourself,â she muttered. âIâm happy Powder has you in her life.â
The words sent a flutter through your chest, the kind that made it hard to breathe. You bit the inside of your cheek to keep from smiling too widely, your pulse hammering in your ears.
âYou should rest,â you said instead.
For a second, she didnât move, her eyes flickering downâto your lips. Was it? Was she? You tried not to jump for joy or scream or cheer, swallowing back the girlish, excited squeal that nearly left you. It was so brief you almost convinced yourself it hadnât happened.
Still, you stayed beside her. The room was quiet save for the soft rhythm of her breathing, which eventually evened out. Her hand still gripped the photo tightly, her thumb brushing faintly across its surface even in sleep.
You tried to focus on thatâon the photo, on anything elseâbut the thrum of your own heartbeat drowned everything out. You were too aware of her, of her presence, of the way her face looked unguarded, almost peaceful now.
And for fuckâs sake, you wished you couldâve kept ignoring her.
--
The sound of laughter and clinking glasses echoed from the kitchen. The warm smell of roasted meats, herbed vegetables, and freshly baked bread filled the house, weaving a comforting cocoon of home and familiarity. The occasional pop of sizzling oil and the scrape of utensils against cookware punctuated the muted hum of conversation. It shouldâve been perfect.
Almost.
Youâd spent most of the day in the kitchen with Vander and Claggor, sleeves rolled up and hands coated in flour or spices as the three of you moved in easy, practiced rhythm, and maybe getting a little tipsy with wine while you worked.
Cooking was grounding. There was something about the simplicity of itâpeeling potatoes, kneading dough, and tasting saucesâthat gave your restless mind a momentâs reprieve. It lets you focus on the here and now, your hands busy and your thoughts, for the most part, quiet.
Mostly quiet.
Because no matter how hard you tried to distract yourself, your thoughts kept circling back to her.
Vi.
You hadnât seen much of her today, which was both a blessing and a curse. A blessing because it gave you the space to breathe, to settle the frayed edges of your nerves without the weight of her presence pressing against your every thought. A curse because even the absence of her was its own kind of presence.
She was everywhere. In the distant echo of her voice from the other room. In the low, rumbling sound of her laugh that you caught when you passed by the dining table. In the fleeting glimpses of her out of the corner of your eye, a blur of red hair and sharp edges that you couldnât quite bring yourself to look at directly.
When the food was prepped and tucked neatly away in the oven, you excused yourself to get ready. Powder had followed you upstairs, chattering away about the table setup, how the napkins needed to be folded a specific way, and whether the wine glasses were clean enough. You smiled despite the knot still coiled in your stomach.
Standing in front of the bathroom mirror, you focused on getting ready. Powder sat perched on the counter beside you, swinging her legs as she twisted her hair into short messy blue pigtails. The soft buzz of the house seemed far away and you worked in companionable silence.
The moment you picked up your eyeliner, though, a shadow passed in the hallway.
You didnât have to look to know who it was. You felt it.
Powderâs casual chatter stilled mid-sentence, her hands freezing mid-braid as her gaze darted to the door.
You glanced up, turning your head just enough to see her through the mirror.
Vi had stopped, one hand brushing the edge of the doorframe as if sheâd paused without meaning to. She wasnât saying anythingâjust looking. Her hair was tied back and finally pulled out of her face.
Your eyes met in the reflection. For a second, everything else blurredâeven the ache that had been sitting low in your chest all day.
She didnât move. Neither did you.
Her lips parted slightly as if to say something, but she stopped herself. Her hand dropped from the frame, and her eyes softened. It wasnât much. It wasnât enough. But it was everything to you.
âHey,â Powder piped up suddenly, startling both of you. Vi blinked, glancing away quickly as though sheâd been caught doing something she wasnât supposed to.
You dropped your gaze back to the counter, feigning interest in the clutter of makeup brushes and compacts.
âHi,â Vi muttered.
Powder hopped off the counter, her movements casual, but when she reached the door, she nudged it closed with a quiet click, shutting Vi out.
The space felt even smaller now, the tension curling tighter in your chest as you forced your hands steady and reached for the eyeliner again.
It didnât matter.
None of it mattered.
And if you told yourself that enough times, maybe youâd start to believe it.
Powder didnât press, instead humming a tune as she returned to her hair, but the weight of Viâs gaze lingered like a phantom. Even as you finished your makeup and brushed off imaginary specks from your clothes, you couldnât shake the way her eyes had softened in that fleeting moment.
Maybe you had too many glasses of wine.
The evening swept forward as though nothing was amiss. Dinner was ready, the dishes were carried out to the table, and the family gathered in the dining roomâa warm, crowded space made cozy by the soft glow of holiday lights and the flicker of candles. Plates clinked, the air hummed with laughter and conversation, and the smell of roasted meat and spices filled the room.
You ended up seated between Powder and Isha, grateful for the buffer between you and Vi, who sat across the table. Vander took his usual spot at the head, towering over the rest of the group like a benevolent giant, while Silco lounged at the other end, his sharp eyes keen and observant even as he sipped his wine.
The conversation rippled through the table, shifting effortlessly between childhood pranks and escalating into an all-out debate between Ekko and Powder about their taste in music. Despite everything, you found yourself smiling, the warmth of the moment settling in your chest like a soft hum.
Ekko leaned toward you, reaching over Powder to tap your arm. âBack me up here! She swears her old mixtapes were legendary, but seriously, half of them were just static and random snippets of songs she couldnât finish recording.â
Powder whipped around, her arms crossing over her chest in defiance. âThey had character , thank you very much. Unlike your boring-ass beats that all sound the same. Admit it, Ekkoâyou wouldnât know originality if it smacked you in the face.â
You laughed, holding your hands up as if to ward off a fight. âDonât drag me into this.â
âDoesnât matter,â Powder shot back smugly, flipping one of her pigtails over her shoulder. âYouâd pick mine anyway. Right?â
âDoubt it,â Mylo muttered from across the table, not even bothering to look up from his plate. âYour mixtapes were shit.â
The room practically exploded as Powderâs outrage hit full volume, her chair scraping back slightly as she leaned forward to defend her honour. Ekko egged her on with exaggerated imitations of her tape-recording process, while Claggor sighed heavily, pinching the bridge of his nose as though this wasnât the first time heâd been subjected to this argument.
Viâs laugh broke through the chaos, low and raspy, cutting through the din like a blade. It froze you in place for a moment, the sound pulling at something deep and tender inside you. Your gaze flicked up almost instinctively, and there she wasâher lips quirking in that lazy half-smile.
For just a second, her eyes caught yours across the table, and the rest of the noise faded away. Something lingered there. You really wanted to know what it was.
She glanced away first, turning her attention back to Vander, but your pulse thrummed in your ears, loud and insistent.
âAye, enough with all the ruckus,â Vander called out, his booming voice easily cutting through the squabbling. âYouâre supposed to be adults now, eh? How come Ishaâs better behaved than the lot of you? Youâre all grown and graduated, even if we never thought weâd see the day.â He added the last part with a sly, teasing grin.
The table burst into uproar again, the teasing and banter ricocheting back at Vander.
Silco hummed from across the table, âIâm still not sure how we managed to clean that mess up.â
You tried to stay present, to laugh along with the others, but his words knocked the air from your lungs.
Graduation.
The word hit you like a stone, unearthing memories youâd buried deep. You could almost feel it againâthe laughter that hung in the warm night air, the shimmer of stars above the city, and the way Vi had pulled you aside. The press of her hand on yours, the sharp, dizzying heat of her lips as they claimed yours like a secret only the two of you could keep.
Your throat tightened as you forced yourself to swallow the ache threatening to rise. You focused on the present, the clatter of plates and the chatter around you, but it didnât help.
And then, you felt her eyes on you again.
You glanced up, and sure enough, Vi was looking.
There it wasâthat same knowing look, tangled in everything you couldnât say out loud. Her brows furrowed just slightly, her jaw tightening as though she was holding something back.
What the fuck was she up to?
--
The Last Drop buzzed with life, music thumping through the speakers and spilling into the streets. It wasnât just another party. This was a celebrationâa proper Zaunite send-off for you, Powder, Ekko, and a few others who had somehow survived to see your graduation day. Families mingled, laughter and loud voices filling the air, while mismatched chairs and tables were dragged together to make room for everyone.
Powderâs arm was slung lazily around your shoulders, her cheek pressed against yours as she swayed side to side, microphone in hand. Her voice cracked mid-line, breaking into laughter that made you smile despite yourself.
Powder had never been much of a singer, but she made it impossible to resist. You joined in, your voice blending with hers, uneven and off-key.
It was one of those rare nights where nothing else seemed to matterâuntil you saw her.
Vi stood on the other side of the room, leaning against the wall like she didnât belong to the chaos. A bottle of beer dangled casually from her fingers as her eyes locked on yours. She wasnât smiling, wasnât moving . Just watching.
More than anything, you wanted to press your lips against hers. To stop the world around from spinning. To satisfy that little desire of yours.
Yet you couldnât.
Because thatâs not what friends do.
Because you were supposed to hate Violet right now.
It had been over a week since the fightâlong enough for the sting of it to fade but not the weight of it.
This fight wasnât like the bickering you had with Powder or the arguments with Ekko. No, this had been something raw, biting, and far too personal.
And it still sat heavy in your chest, a tangled knot of anger, guilt, and something you couldnât quite name.
Because who was Vi to get upset about your bad decisions? You never judged her for hers.
It wasnât fair.
It bothered you more than it should have. Because you liked Viâyou really did. It wasnât just a fleeting crush; it was the kind of feeling that had rooted itself deep, stretching back to childhood, growing stronger with time. No matter how hard you tried, it never seemed to go away.
But she always kept you at armâs length, always pushed you away just enough to make you doubt yourself. And now, she was the mad one? How was that fair?
God forbid you wanted to try something new before graduation.
Maddie was a mutual friend between you and Ekko, and sheâd invited you to hang out by the creek with her crowd. It wasnât your usual group of people, but with Powder and Ekko off on their date night, it wasnât like you had anything better to do.
The rocky quarry was cold, even with the fire Maddieâs friends had started. Its orange glow reflected off the still water below, casting flickering shadows across the uneven ground. The air smelled of smoke and charred wood, sharp and biting against the crisp night air.
Music thumped faintly from a portable speaker, its low bass barely cutting through the sound of laughter and clinking bottles. You sat on a flat rock near the edge, a beer bottle dangling from one hand as you tried not to cough from the joint Maddie had passed you.
It wasnât your crowd, not really. Maddie was nice enoughâbut her friends? They were louder, wilder, the kind of kids who laughed a little too loudly and always seemed on the edge of doing something stupid. Powder probably wouldâve fit in better than you did.
You forced yourself to laugh when they laughed, nodding along to their stories even when you didnât get the jokes. But the joint burned harshly in your throat, and the alcohol made your head swim.
âHey, you good?â Maddie asked, plopping down beside you.
âYeah,â you lied. âThis is fun.â
She grinned, nudging your arm, and offered you another hit. You hesitated but took it anyway, determined not to look out of place.
The night stretched on, blurring into a haze of smoke, music, and the spinning lights from someoneâs flashlight. You werenât sure when it started feeling too heavyâwhen the laughter began to grate or when the voices became too loud.
So what? You werenât having fun. Who cared?
Not every trip was going to be a good one.
But things went from bad to worse when a car pulled up, its headlights cutting through the dark like searchlights. The beams blinded you before they clicked off, leaving the silhouettes of the car and its driver behind.
The glare of the headlights cut through the haze, piercing and unwelcome. You squinted against the brightness, trying to make out the shadowy figure stepping out of the car. The moment you recognized her, your stomach twisted into a tight knot.
Vi.
You ducked instinctively, shifting lower into the rocks and bushes, hoping the flickering firelight wouldnât betray your hiding spot. But it was Viâshe always found you. One second, you were staring blearily at the water, trying to dissolve into the night, and the next, she was right there, pulling you to your feet.
If youâd been even a little more sober, you might have swooned. Her hands were warm, steadying you against the dizziness swaying your vision. For a split second, your hazy mind latched onto the way she held you, like an anchor. But then you saw the scowl pulling at her lips.
Her eyes burned with frustration, her jaw tight as she looked you over. Even through the muddled fog, you could tell she was annoyed. No, more than that. She was pissed. And yet... when her gaze softened, just barely, you felt your stomach flip in that infuriating way it always did around her.
Before you could protest, she started dragging you toward her car.
âWhat the hell?â you slurred, trying to plant your feet, though the ground seemed to shift beneath you. âWhatâre you doinâ?â
âIâm taking you home,â she said flatly.
âWhat?â
âCome on.â
âVi. No, Iâm not going anywhere,â you snapped, voice cracking as you shook her grip. âIâm fine.â
âYouâre not fine.â
âI am fine. I have it under control.â
Vi stopped, her grip tightening as she turned to face you fully. Her voice dropped lower, sharp but quiet. âYou donât have it under control.â
âYes, I do,â you mumbled.
âYouâre drunk.â
âSo what?â
âSo you donât even know what youâre saying,â she snapped, her tone cutting through the haze.
âOh, you know? You think you know me so well?â The words spilled out before you could catch them. âYou think you know whatâs good for me?â
She sighed heavily, muttering your name in a warning tone. âJust calm downââ
âNo!â You cut her off, your voice rising. âYou donât get to decide what I do, Vi! You donât get to swoop in and play saviour just because you feel like it.â
Maddie and her friends had turned to watch now, their curious gazes pinning you in place, making your face burn. And despite everythingâdespite the words bubbling on your tongueâyou let Vi pull you away, her hand firm around your arm.
Your teeth ground together as you stalked to her car, every step sparking with indignation. Things between you had been unbearable lately, each interaction leaving you more wound up than the last. There was a time when you wouldâve had endless patience for her, but now? Now it felt like she was one more weight pressing on your chest, one more thing you couldnât figure out.
When she shut the car door behind you, the cold glass felt soothing against your temple as you leaned against the window.
âHowâd you even find me?â you muttered, your voice low and bitter.
âEkko told me,â she replied without looking at you, her tone clipped.
You rolled your eyes, scoffing. âOf course.â
âA thanks would be nice,â she said, her knuckles white against the steering wheel.
âFor what? Embarrassing me?â
âYou embarrassed yourself.â
âRight,â you scoffed.
âWell, sorry for trying to help you.â
âI didnât ask for your help.â
âFuck, youâre impossible sometimes,â she muttered, shaking her head. âYou shouldâve just stayed home. These arenât the kind of peopleââ
âAre you seriously going to turn this into a lecture?â you interrupted, your words a little slurred but sharp enough to sting. âDo you really feel like youâre in the position to be giving me shit about my bad decisions? You?â
Her head snapped toward you, her brow furrowing. âWhat the fuck is that supposed to mean?â
You hesitated, the fight draining out of you for just a moment. The words sat heavy on your tongue, the weight of her presence drowning out your resolve. Sheâd been pushing and pulling at you for months now , teasing something more but never following through.
And yet, no matter how mad she made youâno matter how deep she cutâyou couldnât stop feeling the way you did. You couldnât stop wanting her.
âNothing,â you mumbled, turning away to rest your head against the cool glass. The words you wanted to say stuck in your throat, a bitter ache joining the spinning in your head.
âIs everything okay?â Powderâs voice broke through the haze, grounding you back in the moment. Her worried gaze locked onto yours, soft but insistent.
For a second, you hesitated, unsure of how to respond. The words sat heavy in your chest, unwilling to come out. Instead, you gave her a small, tired smileâa silent reassurance you werenât sure even you believed.
âDo you want a beer?â she asked, holding out her own cup. Her attention flicked between you and the lively crowd behind her as Isha grabbed the mic, joining Mylo and Vander in a loud, drunken chorus.
You shook your head. âNo, itâs alright. Iâm just going to grab some water⌠maybe step outside for a bit.â
Before you could turn, her hand caught yours. Concern flashed in her eyes, clearer this time, and it made your stomach twist.
âIâm fine, Pow,â you said, pulling your hand free gently. âJust need some air.â
Without waiting for her reply, you slipped away, weaving through the crowd and out the door before anyone else could stop you.
The chill of the night hit you immediately, a stark contrast to the heat and noise inside. The streets of Zaun buzzed softly, a symphony of distant voices and the occasional whistle of wind. You leaned against the railing outside the bar, letting the cool air sting your cheeks and settle the unease in your chest.
It had been a long day. Too long, really.
You tilted your head back, staring up at the skyâhazy and grey like it couldnât decide whether it wanted to rain or stay dry. The faint glow of the streetlights was enough to keep the dark at bay but not enough to chase away the shadows clinging to your thoughts.
âThought you mightâve made a run for it.â
The voice startled you, low and familiar, cutting through the quiet.
Your head snapped to the side, and there she wasâVi. She leaned against the wall a few feet away, hands shoved deep into her jacket pockets, her posture casual, but her eyes⌠her eyes were locked on you.
âNo running,â you said, trying to muster a smile. âJust needed a breather.â
She nodded and stepped closer, the scuffed soles of her boots scraping against the concrete. âCanât blame you. Itâs a lot in there.â
You hummed in agreement, turning back to the horizon. Out of the corner of your eye, you watched her lean on the railing beside you, her profile outlined in the dim glow spilling from the bar windows.
The silence stretched between you, but for once, it wasnât uncomfortable.
After a moment, Vi cleared her throat, her fingers fidgeting with something in her pocket. âI, uh⌠got you something.â
You blinked, thrown off by the sudden statement. âYou did?â
Without a word, she pulled out a small box and held it out to you. Her knuckles brushed against yours briefly, sending a jolt through your system when you took it.
âGo on,â she said.
Curiosity warred with apprehension as you took the box. It was simpleânothing fancy, just a plain black case. Your hands trembled slightly as you opened it, the hinges creaking faintly.
Inside was a ring, nestled in a cushion of fabric. The gemstone caught the light just right, glinting in shades of blue and green. It was unmistakableâthe ring youâd admired months ago, the one youâd only ever mentioned to Powder.
âViâŚâ
She shifted, rubbing the back of her neck, her usual confidence replaced by something softer, almost shy. âFigured you deserved something nice. Youâve been through enough.â A pause. âIâve put you through enough.â
The words hit harder than you expected, and for a moment, all you could do was stare at her.
Did she know?
Could she see how much space she occupied in your head, how her presence both thrilled and tormented you?
She must know.
You slid the ring onto your finger, watching it catch the faint glow of the streetlights. âThank you,â you murmured.
Vi huffed a small laugh, her gaze dropping to the ground. âYou look good,â she said suddenly, the words almost rushed. âLike, really good.â
You snorted, the tension breaking slightly. âThanks, bonehead. I tried not to disappoint. Donât want to ruin your reputation with all those girls you bring around.â
The jab was meant to be playfulâa callback to the jokes you and Ekko often threw her way. But her reaction wasnât what you expected. She stiffened, her jaw tightening.
âYou donât need to worry about that,â she said, her tone unusually earnest.
You frowned, the lightness of the moment slipping through your fingers. âWhatâs that supposed to mean?â
She hesitated, her gaze fixed on the ground as if searching for the right words. Finally, she sighed, her shoulders slumping slightly. âFor the same reason I havenât had a drink in months.â
The confession hung in the air, heavy and raw.
Your chest tightened, a mix of confusion and hope clawing at you. âWhat do you⌠Vi?â
She looked up at you then, her eyes unguarded for once. âI want to be better. For my family. For you.â
The vulnerability in her voice took your breath away.
âIâm sorry for last week,â she continued, her voice soft as she moved closer. âIâve been⌠an asshole.â
âYouâre always an asshole,â you taunted, the words slipping out before you could stop them. You werenât sure how else to approach this.
Vi chuckled, the tension easing slightly. âMore of one than usual. Better?â
âA little.â
âHow do I get you to forgive me?â
You smiled, warmth unfurling in your chest like a slow-burning ember. âIâve got a few ideas.â
âYeah?â
âOh, yeah.â
Her hand grazed your shoulder, the touch featherlight, as if testing whether youâd melt under her fingers. You leaned into her instinctively, like a plant drawn to sunlight. It was new, this tenderness from her, but somehow it felt like home. A strange, beautiful comfort that was exactly what you were aching for.
âIs it terrible that I really want to kiss you right now?â Her thumb traced the line of your collarbone, slow and deliberate, before cupping your cheek. Her palm was warm against your skin, grounding you in the moment while the world around you blurred into hazy irrelevance.
Her hand trailed up your collarbone and rested on your cheek. You were so close you could feel her breath on your face. You turned the rest of your body, finally fully facing her. Your chests were almost touching from the proximity, and so were your lips. You could feel your heart beating so loud in your ribcage you thought she could hear it.
âDefinitely not,â you whispered, barely able to trust your own voice.
You turned to fully face her , closing the small distance between you . Your chest brushed against hers, the soft hitch of her breath almost louder than the pounding in your ears. You wondered if she could hear your heart, wild and untamed beneath your ribs, or if it was just you unravelling in her presence.
For a second, she hesitated, her lips ghosting over yours, not quite touching. The tension was electric, a charge that made the air feel thick and heavy, like the world itself was holding its breath. You closed your eyes, letting yourself fall into the anticipation, surrendering to the pull that had always been there.
When her lips finally pressed to yours, it was slowâachingly so. Her movements were unhurried, like she was memorizing the feel of you, the way your breath hitched, the softness of your lips against hers. Your hands found their way to her arms, fingers curling over the muscle there, marvelling at the juxtaposition of strength and gentleness. She brought you closer, her free hand slipping to the small of your back, holding you as if she were afraid you might slip away.
She pulled back just enough to meet your eyes, her thumb brushing a stray strand of hair from your face. The warm summer breeze kissed your skin, but you barely noticed. You were too busy drinking her inâthe way the string lights overhead reflected in her eyes, turning them into pools of gold, the flush on her cheeks, the way her lips parted as if she had something more to say but couldnât find the words.
You didnât care. Words didnât matter anymore.
Her name slipped from your lips in a whisper you barely recognized, a plea you hadnât meant to voice.
And then her lips were on yours again, fiercer this time. You responded without thinking, arms wrapping around her neck as though pulling her closer might make you whole. She matched your urgency, her hands firm as they pressed you flush against her, anchoring you in the moment. She kissed like she foughtâwith passion, with intent, with a determination that left you breathless.
When she broke away, it wasnât to retreat but to trace a path down your jaw, her lips exploring the sensitive skin of your neck. Each kiss, each gentle scrape of her teeth, sent shivers down your spine. You gasped her name, your fingers tangling in her hair to pull her back to you.
Her eyes were dark when they met yours again, desire simmering just beneath the surface. Her lips were swollen, her breaths uneven, and she looked at you like you were something she couldnât quite believe was real.
âFuck,â she breathed, âI want you. Really bad.â
âYouâve always had me.â
She kissed you again, this time with an urgency that left no room for hesitation. Her hands roamed, each touch setting your skin ablaze until you were sure youâd never be the same. It was dizzying, intoxicatingâa dream you never wanted to wake from.
--
Across the table, Vi was still looking at you.
You werenât sure how long it had beenâseconds, minutes?âbut the weight of her gaze pressed down on you like it could peel back the layers youâd so carefully wrapped around yourself.
Your fingers tightened around the fork in your hand, the metal cool against your palm. Look away, you told yourself. Just look away. But you couldnât.
Her expression was unreadable, her jaw set, and her brows drawn just slightly enough to make her look... almost regretful. Almost. It made your heart plunge. Even if you already had that sinking feeling she did regret it, when she left you that summer, but it still hurt all the same.
You tore your eyes away, focusing hard on the plate in front of you. The food looked perfectâbright, warm, comforting. But you had no appetite.
â...You alright?â Powderâs voice cut through the haze, and you blinked, realizing sheâd been watching you. Her head tilted, a small smile tugging at her lips.
âYeah, fine,â you said quickly, forcing a smile that felt all wrong on your face when you felt Isha place her hand over yours. âJust tired.â
You could feel Viâs eyes on you still.
âIt wasnât that long ago,â Vander was saying, his deep voice rolling over the table. âFeels like it, though. Never thought weâd make it through that night in one piece.â
âSpeak for yourself,â Powder chimed in, grinning. âI think I came out of it looking pretty great.â
Mylo snorted. âYou came out of it covered in glitter and confetti.â
âExactly,â Powder shot back, shoving him lightly, and the table erupted into laughter.
Vi shifted in her chair, leaning back slightly. âSome people had more exciting nights than others,â she remarked, her tone light but razor-sharp. âIf I remember right, someone disappeared for a while.â
The room went quiet.
You looked up sharply, meeting her gaze again, and there it wasâsomething burning in her eyes, daring you to say something.
âWhat are you talking about?â Claggor asked, looking between you and Vi.
Vi shrugged casually, but her grip on her glass betrayed her. What the fuck was she playing at? âNothing. Just saying, some people had... priorities.â
The words hung in the air like smoke, curling into the silence.
Your chest tightened under the weight of everyoneâs stares. You forced your voice to stay even.âIf youâve got something to say, Vi, just say it.â
Her lips curled into a smirk that didnât meet her eyes. âNo. Iâm good.â
You leaned forward, tension crackling in the air. âNo, seriously. You clearly have a lot to say about that night. Why donât you go ahead and spell it out for everyone?â
Viâs chair creaked as she leaned forward, her voice low and steady. âFine. You went missing. Nobody knew where you were. Figured youâd be with your friends, but no. You were off⌠handling your own business, werenât you?â
âViââ Vander started.
Your jaw tightened. âMaybe you should look in a mirror before pointing fingers,â you shot back, the words escaping before you could think. âBecause last I checked, you were drunk and sulking in the bottom of some mugââ
Viâs scoff cut through the air like a slap. âOh my god. Not this again.â She laughed, sharp and hollow. âSome of us actually enjoyed the night.â
âEnjoyed it?â you spat. âIs that what you call it?â
âAt least I wasnât sneaking around like I had something to hide!â
Your eyes narrowed, the fire in them flaring. âThatâs fucking rich, coming from you. Considering the fact that you canât ever grow up and actually take responsibility for your shit.â
Her chair scraped loudly as she leaned forward, âGrow up? Werenât you the one giving me the silent treatment all weekend?â
âBecause I didnât have anything to say to you!â
âOh, really? Sure sounds like youâve got plenty to say now!â Viâs voice cracked like a whip, the sarcasm cutting deeper than you expected.
âBecause youâve been acting all weird since I got here!â The words were out before you could stop them, a raw truth that had been burning inside you all day. It wasnât just the awkwardnessâit was her presence, everything about it, that had been eating at you.
âWeird how?â
âYou keep acting like weâre friendsââ
âAre we not friends?â
âNot the last time I fucking checked!â The words escaped in a snap, too loud for the quiet that had overtaken the table. âFriends donât... they donâtââ
âThey donât what?â Her eyes were hard, daring you to finish it, daring you to bring it all back up. She knew exactly what you were going to say.
âThey donât leave , Violet.â You felt the air grow thick around you. Your voice dropped lower, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. âThey donât fucking leave and act like nothingâs wrong. They sure as hell donât spring out bullshit like this and pretend itâs nothing.â
âIââ
âThey donât pretend to care when they donât,â you interrupted, your voice rising now, a sense of finality creeping in. You were done dancing around it. Done avoiding it. âAnd donât act like this is some fucking coincidence, Vi. You left. And you know it. And for what? Because youâre a coward? We can fight about this forever and still end up right here again and again.â
Her jaw tightened at that, but her lips barely parted. She tried to steady herself, but you saw the crackâthe tiny flicker of something that couldnât hide in the cold light of the argument. âBut I do care,â she said, softer than she meant to.
âNo, you donât. Because if you did you wouldâve taken me seriously a long time ago.â
Around you, the table remained frozen, the once-familiar chatter now swallowed by the storm of your words.
Your chest tightened, breaths coming too quickly as heat rose to your face. Your hands gripped the edge of the table, knuckles white, but they trembled, betraying you. You clenched them into fists, trying to steady yourself. The cold weight of embarrassment crashed over you, thick and suffocating, pulling at the pit of your stomach. The sting of tears burned at the corners of your eyes, but you fought them back, refusing to show weakness. Not here. Not now.
âI need the bathroom,â you muttered.
The words were barely a whisper, but they felt loud in the stillness, a fragile escape from the chaos you were drowning in. You didnât wait for a response. You pushed back from the table so violently that your chair scraped loudly against the floor, a harsh sound that seemed to echo in the tense silence. You stood up, your legs shaky, and your vision blurred for a second as you tried to steady yourself.
But just as you were about to leave, a small, insistent tug at your dress made you freeze. You paused, tension coiling in your chest, and glanced down. Ishaâs wide, innocent eyes met yours, filled with concern and confusion, but she didnât speak. She just held on for a heartbeat, her tiny hand clutching at the fabric.
You couldnât bear to see her face, the concern too pure, too innocent for the mess youâd just created. You could already feel the shame settling in, the weight of everything crashing over you. Her eyes stayed locked on yours, silently asking if you were okay, but all you could do was nod quickly, avoiding the pleading in her gaze.
Without another word, you turned away, the sound of your shoes hitting the floor sharp and heavy as you walked toward the hallway. Your heart pounded in your chest, a rhythm that matched your quickening breaths, and you didnât look back.
--
You'd spent your entire summer tied between bedsheets and lies. The knots in your chest were growing, the bitterness between your teeth spreading like a cavity. The sun was your only witness to the way you were falling apart at the hands of Violet. She was unravelling you, pulling you to pieces, limb by limb, with her teeth as they gnawed at your skinâbiting and biting and pulling and pulling, taking everything out from you.
But you were so in love. You were sure thatâs what it was. You were so in love with her and with this strange feeling residing within you that you couldn't help but think that if this was the way things were going to be from now on, so be it.
Her touch was electric, sparking something deep inside you that refused to be extinguished. When she pulled you into stolen momentsâpressed against walls, her lips brushing yours with an urgency that made your head spinâyou forgot about the world outside. You forgot about Powder. About Ekko. About the lies you were spinning just to be with her.
It was never planned. Sheâd come into your room late at night, your parents always let her in, her footsteps soft and deliberate, her voice a low murmur of your name that sent shivers down your spine. And then she was there, so close you could feel her warmth, her breath fanning your cheek as she whispered, âCan I stay?â
You never said no.
It was all tenderness. Her fingers would trace lazy patterns on your skin as the two of you lay tangled together, the world melting away outside your window. She kissed you with a care that made you believe, for just a moment, that this wasnât wrong. That you werenât betraying anyone.
Her laugh, soft and rare, became the soundtrack to your summer. Youâd tease her about her scars, and sheâd roll her eyes, calling you insufferable before tugging you closer with a smirk. âYouâre lucky I like you,â sheâd say, her voice light but her gaze heavy with something deeper.
But even then, cracks were forming beneath the surface.
You ignored the way her jaw tensed whenever Powderâs name came up when you told her what you did in the day. You pretended not to notice how her touch lingered a little too long as if she was trying to commit you to memory. And when sheâd pull away in the mornings, murmuring some half-hearted excuse about needing air or checking on something, you let her go without question, even though her absence left a hollow ache in your chest.
You spent your days with Powder when the afternoon sun was merciless and drenched everything in a sticky warmth that clung to your skin. You followed her into the tiny ice cream shop on the corner, grateful for the blast of cold air as the door swung shut behind you. She immediately made a beeline for the counter, peering at the flavours.
âYou know youâre just gonna get strawberry,â you said, leaning your arms on the glass display.
Powder rolled her eyes at you. âMaybe Iâm feeling adventurous today.â But, true to form, she ordered strawberry, with a generous drizzle of chocolate syrup on top.
The two of you wandered back outside, ice creams in hand, the salty breeze from the beach brushing against your skin. Powder was chatting about somethingâmaybe the latest gossip from your old neighbourhood or some ridiculous scheme Ekko was planningâbut you werenât really listening. Your thoughts were far away.
âOkay, spill,â Powder said suddenly, cutting through your haze.
You blinked, looking over at her. âWhat?â
She stopped walking and turned to face you fully, her blue eyes narrowing in a way that made you squirm. âYouâve been weird lately. Like, really weird. And I know youâre seeing someone.â
Your heart dropped. âWhat are you talking about? Iâm notââ
âOh, please.â Powder rolled her eyes, licking a stray drop of chocolate syrup from her thumb. âYou think I havenât noticed the hickeys? Or the fact that youâre always sneaking off? Or how youâre suddenly a terrible liar?â
âIâm notââ
âDonât even try,â she interrupted, grinning now. âYouâre so obvious, itâs embarrassing.â
You opened your mouth to argue, but the words caught in your throat. Powder knew you too well, and she wasnât wrong.
âIâm not gonna push,â she continued, taking another bite of her ice cream. âYou donât have to tell me who it is or anything. Just⌠I donât know. Be careful, okay? If they hurt you, Iâll deal with them myself.â
You forced a laugh, hoping it sounded casual. âI think I can handle myself, Pow.â
âIâm serious,â she said, her voice softening. âYouâre my best friend. I just want you to be happy.â
It wasnât like you wanted to keep it all to yourself, but you had to admit, you enjoyed the rush. The thrill of sneaking around, of stolen touches and whispered words in the dark . Of secluded meetings where the world melted away, leaving only the two of you. You even started to understand why Powder and Ekko had kept their relationship a secret for so long before telling anyone. There was something intoxicating about the secrecy, about having somethingâsomeoneâall to yourself.
Still, the guilt lurked in the back of your mind, a constant shadow in the brightness of those moments.
You could feel its weight one night as you lay beside Vi, the room quiet except for the soft hum of the city outside your window. The moonlight poured in through the swaying blinds, catching the sheen of sweat on your skin. You could still feel her hands on you, the warmth of her lips lingering in places youâd never forget.
But something shifted in the air as you spoke.
âPowder knows,â you said softly, your voice barely breaking the stillness.
Vi stiffened beside you, her arms tightening for just a moment before going rigid. You felt the change immediately, like the comfort of her embrace had turned into a cage.
âWhat?â she muttered, her voice panicked, strained. She pulled away from you, her sudden movement leaving you cold despite the warmth of the summer night.
You propped yourself up on one elbow, watching as she sat up and ran a hand through her hair. The way she avoided your gaze made your chest ache. âI mean, she knows Iâm seeing someone. She doesnât know itâs you,â you clarified, trying to ease the tension. âBut sheâs smart, Vi. Iâm sure sheâll figure it out.â
âOh,â was all she said, her tone flat.
You frowned, sitting up to face her fully. âIs that so terrible?â
She finally turned to you, her expression unreadable, her lips pressing into a thin line. âWell⌠yeah.â
âWhat? Why?â you asked, your voice rising slightly, a mix of confusion and hurt.
âItâs justâŚâ She trailed off, her hands falling into her lap. You watched as she fidgeted with the hem of the sheet, her knuckles brushing against her thighs, her usual confidence faltering. âThis isnât⌠I mean, itâs not supposed to beâŚâ
âNot supposed to be what?â you pressed, your heart sinking as the silence stretched between you.
âNever mind,â she muttered, her voice clipped, and she swung her legs over the side of the bed.
Your chest tightened as you watched her get dressed again, searching for her clothes in the mess of your room. âWhere are you going?â
âI just rememberedâI promised Jayce Iâd meet him for drinks,â she said, her tone casual, but the way she avoided your gaze betrayed her unease.
âDrinks?â
âYeah. Is that a problem?â
âNo, I just⌠uh, will I see you tomorrow?â
âMaybe. I dunno.â
Her answer hit you like a slap, the indifference in her tone cutting deeper than you expected. You opened your mouth to say something, to ask her to stay, but the words tangled in your throat. She was already halfway to the door.
And then she left, shutting it behind her without so much as a glance back.
You sat there in stunned silence, the warmth of her presence already fading. The sheets felt colder, and the air seemed heavier. You stared at the door, replaying the conversation in your mind , wondering where youâd gone wrong.
You shouldâve kept your mouth shut.
You didnât see her for a few days. Each hour of her absence stretched unbearably long, her silence gnawing at you like a wound that wouldnât heal. It wasnât until you were at Powderâs house for a sleepover that you saw her again, and the encounter was nothing short of jarring.
You were in the bathroom, brushing your teeth when the door swung open abruptly.
âShit, sorry,â Vi said, freezing in the doorway, her eyes wide. âI didnât know you were here.â
âFigures.â you muttered as you met her startled gaze in the mirror.
Her presence made your chest tighten, anger and longing colliding in a mess of emotions. She lingered for a moment , her hand gripping the doorknob so tightly her knuckles whitened. Her eyes darted to the floor before she stepped back and shut the door behind her.
You stood there, toothbrush suspended midair, the brief encounter leaving you shaken. Your grip tightened on the sink as you stared at your reflection, trying to steady yourself, but all you could think about was her.
Ten minutes later, her bedroom door was locked.
You didnât know how you ended up there, pressed against her bed, but none of it mattered in the heat of the moment. Her movements were frantic, her hands rough and unrelenting as they held you in place. One hand cupped your mouth, muffling your gasps and cries, while the other gripped your hips, anchoring you to the mattress.
Her breath was hot against your skin as she licked a line up your centre, her tongue moving with a precision that made you shudder. Viâs eyes stayed locked on you, watching the way your chest heaved and your fingers fumbled for something to hold onto. The sheets bunched beneath your grip as her nose brushed against your clit, sending jolts of pleasure through your body.
You felt your breath stagger. Her mouth moved against you with a desperation you hadnât felt before, like she was trying to drown out her own thoughts by consuming you entirely.
Her tongue worked relentlessly, warm and wet as it flicked against you in ways that stole the air from your lungs. She was vicious, her teeth scraping lightly, her lips sealing over you with desperation that bordered on need. You tried to stay quietâthe walls were thin, and you werenât an idiotâbut it was impossible to stifle every sound.
It was a miracle that the woman you fucked wasnât a talker half of the time.
Your head pressed back against the comforter, and your body arched into her touch, unable to resist the pull of her movements. A broken gasp escaped you, muffled only by the fingers pressed against your lips. The lewd, wet sounds of her mouth against you filled the room, driving you closer to the edge.
Viâs eyes never left you, and when she moved her hand from your mouth to tug at your shirt, you realized she wanted more. Her fingers fumbled with the fabric, her grip firm but not rough.
Your hand covered hers, âViââ you managed to whisper, but the way her fingers flexed back against yours stole whatever protest you had.
â Oh, â you keened, the sound spilling from your lips before you could stop it. Your chest heaved, and your free hand clutched at the sheets as heat spread through your body.
She shifted lower, pulling her hand away from yours, spreading you open further with her fingers before her tongue dipped deeper. She sucked on your clit, her lips closing over it with a force that had you gasping her name. Your hand found her hair, tangling in her locks as your hips bucked against her face.
âF-fuck,â you stuttered, your voice barely above a whisper. The room felt too hot, the air too thick, as if the walls themselves were closing in.
What Vi gave you wasnât just desireâit was something raw, frantic like she was trying to pour everything she couldnât say into every stroke of her tongue and press of her lips. Her nails dug into your thighs, holding you steady as she pulled you apart, piece by trembling piece.
When you finally came undone, she didnât let go immediately. She lingered, her tongue moving slower now , as if reluctant to stop.
Your gut twisted with unease and she finally pulled back, her forehead resting against your thigh, her breath warm and uneven against your skin.
She stayed there for a moment, her shoulders trembling slightly.
âVi?â you whispered, your voice hoarse and uncertain.
She didnât answer. Instead, she climbed up beside you, pulling you into her arms with a gentleness that went against all the ferocity from moments ago. It made your chest ache.
Her hands traced idle patterns on your back, and her lips brushed against your temple, but even in her embrace, you could feel the tension radiating from her.
The silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. You couldnât shake the feeling that this was more than just a momentary lapse.
It felt like a goodbye.
Three days later, you found the note.
Sorry, canât keep doing this. Take care.
--
The sound of your feet hitting the floor was sharp, your breath coming in ragged gasps. You couldnât stand being in the same room with her for another second. Without thinking, you turned on your heel and made a beeline for the door.
Powder was already on you. âHeyâwait! What the fuck was that all about?â She followed closely, her voice softening with concern.
âI just need a minute,â you muttered, the words coming out more broken than you intended, but you couldnât bring yourself to look at her.
âPlease, talk to me,â she called out, grabbing your arm before you could open the bathroom door. You flinched, the touch grounding you against the whirlwind of your emotions. Powder gently turned you around, her gaze locking onto yours. The concern in her eyes was sharp, but it softened when she noticed the tears staining your cheeks. The ones youâd been fighting back all night.
âIâm sorry,â you said, the words tumbling out in a rush, but it felt like they werenât enough.
Powderâs eyes softened at the apology, but she was still searching for answers. âFor what?â
âIâm sorry, Pow,â you repeated, your voice trembling.
She blinked, shaking her head slightly, âWhy would youââ
âIt was Vi,â you whispered, barely able to get the words out. Your chest felt tight like something was gripping around your heart, squeezing the air from your lungs. âThe person I was seeing over the summer... it was her. I... Iâm sorry I didnât tell you sooner.â
Powderâs face, usually so open and easy to read, flickered with something unreadable for a moment. But then, without skipping a beat, she spoke, her voice calm. âI know.â
âWhat?â
âI knew.â
Of course, she knew. Why wouldnât she know? You scoffed involuntarily. A bitter, hollow laugh bubbled up in your chest, but it died before it reached your lips. Of course, sheâd figured it out. Youâd never been good at hiding things from Powder. Sheâd known you better than anyone for as long as you could remember.
Seeing the way your face shifted, Powder seemed to understand the storm of thoughts going through your head. She continued, quieter now, but her words landed with surprising ease. âYouâve always had a thing for her... I just thought youâd tell me when you were ready. I wasnât going to push.â
The floodgates started to crack open, the guilt and the ache in your chest spilling out in fragmented pieces. âI wanted to tell you,â you whispered, your voice barely a breath. âI really did... but I didnât know how. I didnât know what I was doingâwhat I was feeling. And I didnât want to hurt you.â The last part came out in a broken whisper, the pain of it digging into you like a knife.
Powderâs gaze softened, but she didnât say anything right away. You could feel her presence steadying you, like she was holding onto you in the way she always did when things felt like they were falling apart.
âCome on, stop apologizing. You sound like a loser.â
But you couldnât stop. You were choking on it. On the guilt. The regret. The frustration. Youâd kept this secret for so long, and now everything had cracked wide open, splintering everything around you. âI shouldâve told you first thing,â you choked out, your chest heavy with regret, the words tasting bitter on your tongue. âI fucked everything up. I ruined Christmas dinner, I ruined everything.â
You didnât mean to raise your voice at the table. It just... happened. The tears were close again, stinging the back of your eyes, and your hands shook violently as you tried to make sense of it all. You shouldnât have come back here.
âIâll leave. Iâll go.â
The words didnât even feel real as they left your mouth. You didnât even know where youâd go.
But before you could turn away, Powderâs hand shot out, stopping you cold. She wasnât angry. No, this wasnât about anger. It was something elseâsomething steadier. Her voice was quiet but firm, unwavering. âAnd go where?â she asked, a little smile pulling at the corner of her lips, almost like she was trying to soften the weight of your spiralling thoughts. âYouâre staying right here. Youâre not leaving.â
She exhaled a laugh that sounded real for the first time all night, and it cut through the tension in the air. The smile that formed on your lips was small, but it was there. âBesides,â she added, âif anyone ruined Christmas, it was Myloâs shitty cookies anyway.â
That did it. It was the most normal thing youâd heard all night, and it gave you just enough space to breathe.
âWeâre gonna watch a movie soon,â she said, her voice softer now. âOnce everyoneâs done eating. If you need a minute... youâve got plenty of time.â
You nodded, swallowing hard. Your throat felt like it was tightening again, but you didnât have it in you to argue. âThanks,â you whispered, your voice tight, raw. âI just need a few minutes... to think.â
Powderâs gaze softened even more as she stepped back, her expression unreadable for a moment. âIâll deal with my sister and then weâll talk about this later. Thereâs a lot to unpack here.â
The words lingered in the air between you, but there was no anger there. No blame. Only understandingâlike she knew this wasnât something you could just fix in a minute. It made your heart ache even more, that she wasnât pushing. That she wasnât leaving you to drown in this alone.
With that, she left you standing in the hallway, the door creaking softly behind her. You didnât look back, the weight of her words lingering on your shoulders like a heavy cloak. It felt like everyone in the house was still watching, their eyes pressing down on you. The silence in the house seemed louder than the argument had been.
Without thinking, you pushed open the bathroom door, slamming it shut behind you with a force that left your ears ringing. You locked the door, the click of the lock filling the space with a strange finality. It was just you now, and you couldnât escape what was happening inside your own head. The sound of your pulse thudded in your ears, drowning out everything else.
You leaned heavily against the sink, your hands gripping the porcelain so tightly that your knuckles ached.
âFuck,â you whispered, barely able to hear yourself over the frantic beating of your heart.
You stared at your reflection for what felt like hours, trying to calm the storm in your mind. Your face was flushed, your emotions a mess of anger, confusion, and exhaustion. You hated the way things had spiralled tonight. Hated that youâd let it get this far. Hated that youâd lashed out, that you did it in front of Isha and the rest of the family.
But as much as you wanted to bury it, as much as you wanted to push everything down and move on, you couldnât. You couldnât lie to yourself. What you really felt was hurt.
A soft knock at the door broke through your thoughts, sharp against the silence. You froze and swore under your breath.
âHey, are you okay?â Claggorâs voice was gentle, hesitant like he wasnât sure whether to intrude. âJust... just wanna make sure you're alright.â
You ran a hand over your hair, âYeah, I just need to... just need a minute. Iâll be fine. Sorry.â
The pause that followed felt like it lasted forever. You heard him sigh before his footsteps faded down the hallway, leaving you alone again. But you didnât move.
Suddenly, there was another knock at the door. This one was different, more insistent. You thought it was Powder againâ
You opened the door quickly, but the second it swung open, you were met with a wall of heat, and before you could think, lips were on yours.
Vi.
The shock of it made your breath catch in your throat, a jolt of heat flooding through you. She pushed into you with a force that made your head spin, her body pressing against yours as if she couldnât get close enough. Her lips were hungry, desperate as if trying to drown out somethingâsomething that had been brewing between you two for far too long.
Everything youâd been holding inâthe anger, the frustration, the confusionâcame rushing out in a rush of heat and tension. You responded instinctively, your hands finding her arms and pulling her closer. She felt so real, so tangible at that moment, like she was a part of you youâd been missing without knowing it. Her grip on you was tight, almost painful as if she was trying to force her way back into your world.
She muttered something against your lipsâquiet, persistent, over and over. âIâm sorry, Iâm sorry, Iâm sorry.â The words burned against your mouth, each one feeling like it was meant for you to swallow, to take in and process like some kind of penance. You didnât stop, though. You couldnât. You kissed her harder, deeper, your own emotions spilling out as you pulled her into you, letting the anger twist into something darker, something reckless.
The door slammed shut behind you with a force that made the walls rattle, and you imagined her kicking it closed, her body language sharp, desperate, like she couldnât get away from what she was doing.
But just as suddenly as it had started, Vi pulled away, gasping for air, her breath ragged against your lips. Her eyes were wild, dark, but there was something else there tooâsomething you couldnât place. She wasnât looking at you; she was looking through you as if she was trying to piece something together in her head.
âWhat the hell is wrong with you?â You hissed, your voice low and rough, the words escaping before you could stop them. Your chest heaved with, heart pounding in your throat. âYou donât get to come in here andââ
âIâm sorry, I know,â she muttered, cutting you off. Her voice was strained, full of frustration and something elseâguilt, maybe. âIâve been... fuck. Iâm sorry.â
Your mind spun, trying to make sense of it all, but the words felt hollow. It didnât change the fact that sheâd barged in, that this... whatever it was, was happening now. âYou should be,â you snapped, the words sharp, your chest still tight with the weight of everythingâof the anger and the hurt, and the confusion that had never really gone away.
âI donât wanna let anyone down anymore. I donât wanna let you down. I just... I didnât think I was ready for this, for you," she breathed, her voice trembling just slightly. âI didnât know how to deal with how I felt. Iâve always fucked things up, and this... this feels like another thing Iâm about to ruin. Because I know you like me. And I like you too. A lot.â
âYou shouldnât have come at me like that tonight... Not like... that,â you said, voice quieter now, almost a whisper.
Vi nodded, a bitter smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. âI know. I messed up. But I just... Iâm sorry, I didnât know how to fix it.â
You rolled your eyes, the corner of your mouth betraying a small grin. You couldnât help itâyou were a goner. Too far gone, far too smitten, tangled in your feelings for her. She could probably destroy you a dozen times over, and youâd still find yourself wanting more.
You moved closer, placing your hands over her chest before gently cupping her face. You willed her to believe you, forcing yourself to be brave even as the words felt foreign in your mouth. "One more. Iâll give you one more chance, Vi."
âThatâs all I need,â she whispered, her voice low, full of intensity.
In an instant, the distance between you collapsed. One second, she was all taut, coiled tension, and the next, she was on top of you, her lips hot against your neck, leaving a trail of fire down your skin. One hand tangled in your hair, the other already lifting your skirt as her fingers brushed dangerously close, matching the rhythm of her tongue's movements against your pulse.
Her weight on top of you, even with clothes still between you, felt familiar. It was all the little thingsâthe way she moved, the way her hand slipped down your leg, teasing, pulling back just as you thought youâd finally get what you wanted. Her kiss was fierce, her body pressing into yours in a way that made you feel both vulnerable and alive.
You realized just how much youâd missed thisâthe feel of her, the way she made your heart race and your breath hitch. The nights you had spent alone, replaying moments like these in your mind, when she would slip into your dreams like a ghost.
There had been nightsâlike that summer at Jayceâs and Melâs engagement partyâwhen she had drawn you to the edge again and again, leaving you gasping and frustrated, only to make you ache for more. You werenât proud of it, but you'd replayed that night in your mind over and over when loneliness crept inâon bad days, or when you drank too much, and the restless feeling lingered even after youâd gotten yourself off. Nothing had ever compared to the way she made you feel.
It made you wonderâdid she ever feel the same? Did she ever ache for you the way you had ached for her?
The bathroom was a reckless choice for this. But then again, life was too short for second-guessing. Clothes were discarded hastily, hands colliding with fabric, a belt buckle clanging against the floor. Every movement felt frantic, raw, desperate. She didnât let you go, her body against yours as her fingers found their way to your skin, her breath hot and heavy on your neck.
âI miss you,â she confessed, her voice barely above a whisper.
âI miss you too.â
âSorry Iâm a dick.â
âI wouldnât change a thing.â
You swear you would be in peace if it wasnât for her. But this kept you on your toes, you guessed. The way you liked it.
part one
#such a shitty ending my bad#viâs gauntlets#arcane#arcane x reader#vi x reader#arcane fluff#arcane vi#arcane imagines#arcane headcanon#vi arcane#vi fluff#arcane fanfic#vi x you#vi arcane x reader#arcane x female reader#tattoo artist vi#wlw fanfic#vi league of legends#violet arcane#vi#arcane vi x reader#vi arcane smut#vi fanfic#vi smut#vi fanart#league of legends#arcane smut#league of legends smut#vi x y/n#fayeâs writing â.á
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thinking about a lazy motel stay with cas.
you, dean and sam were so exhausted after a hunt, so dean drove the impala into the nearest motel parking lot. sam and dean room together, leaving you and castiel alone.
you showered and got in bed while castiel awkwardly stood nearby watching you. just as you get comfortable, you tell him to shower and get in bed with you.
after about 10 minutes of hearing the water run, it finally shuts off. he gingerly climbs into bed with just his boxers on and he lays flat on his back, not wanting to touch you if you didnât want him to.
but you did want the physical contact. so you lazily scoot over to him and lay your head against his chest. he hesitantly rests his hand on your back and eventually starts rubbing small circles.
you didnât expect him to sleep. heâs an angel after all. but you at least wanted him to enjoy the luxury of laying in a bed - albeit a shitty, lumpy mattress - but it was something.
as you drift off to sleep, he spends the night staring at your relaxed face. tracing every soft curve with his softened eyes a million times over.
when the sunlight starts to shine through the sheer curtains, he finds himself not wanting to move. he didnât realize how tired you were. he wouldnât dare disrupt your peace now. till eventually, dean pounds loudly on your door.
ârise and shine love birds!! weâre on the road in 20!â his voice is rough and almost annoyed.
youâre startled awake from the elder winchesterâs urgent voice. you groggily begin to get dressed and pack up.
castiel stays in bed just watching, and he canât help but wish he got just a few more minutes laying in bed with you.
#yay! now i can fall asleep thinking of this!#excuse my shitty writing#i write like a 3rd grader#anyways#dean pmo#supernatural#spn#castiel#castiel supernatural#spn fanfic#spn castiel#castiel fluff#castiel fanfiction#castiel fic#castiel drabble#castiel x you#castiel x reader#Sonnet!yaps
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Alex Horne menaces fanfiction writers in new podcast
#godbless actual gif makers please make real nice gifs from this interview#so many amazing faces#I will reblog the shit outta them#my (shitty) gifs#taskmaster#alex horne#taskmaster fanfic#taskmaster uk#podcasts/interviews/appearances#transformative taskmaster podcast
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i think i hauve covid
incase the designs werent clear lol
#yes i did get back into the shitty gacha game and made a rarepair for the sake of it#still grinding the stupid ass missions i just want my boy#my art#ilustration#digital art#artists on tumblr#character design#cookie run#cookie run kingdom#cookie run fanart#cookie run ovenbreak#wind archer cookie#potato cookie#rarepair#literally the only mf that ships this is me lmaooo#need to find people who do fanfic comms cause i need content
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reading the cadence of part time poets is funny because i understand none of the slang. like, 'yes, go off little english boy!'
#remus lupin#cadence of part time poets#coptp#marauders#wolfstar#sirius black#jily#marauders era#marauders au#like i know quite a bit#but leave me and my shitty aussie vocab alone#fanfiction#ao3#ao3 fanfic#fanfic#james potter#lilly evans#peter pettigrew#mary macdonald#marlene mckinnon#dead gay wizards from the 70s#dead gay wizards
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Ghouls love the light
Ghouls love sleeping in the sun.
They will find the exact spot the sun hits the floor, and they will sleep in it for hours.
The ghouls will follow the sunspot on the floor as it moves through the day.
Some ghouls will argue with other ghouls about which spots are the best.
Swiss prefers the hallway facing the East.
He believes the sun is brightest there because âthatâs where it rises, you morons.â
Dew always drags Aether to nap in the library.
He thinks itâs the best spot because âthe window is the largest in the abbey, fuckface.â
Swiss and Dew argue about this frequently.
No matter where the ghouls decide is the best place, they always manage to find the most disruptive spot.
Swissâs preferred hallway is an integral path to several important rooms.
The siblings of sin hate it when he sleeps there in the sun.
Theyâre terrified of tiptoeing past since Swiss gets grumpy when his naps are interrupted.
Just imagine how an angry 6â tall ghoul with sharp teeth would look after being awoken from a sun sleep.
Youâd be terrified too.
Aether and Dew take up a sizeable chunk of the library floor when they decide to take a nap.
Several staircases are blocked because Aether will snarl at anyone who comes too close to his sleeping beauty.
Dew never wakes up because he knows heâs safe with Aether around.
Mountain likes sleeping in front of the glass doors leading out to the greenhouse, itâs like heâs the sleeping guardian. No one can get past him, no matter if they have actual work to do outside.
Rain likes to sleep on an entire table in the dining hall. The tall slim windows let just the perfect amount of light in for him. He doesnât mind the clatter of silverware or the soft murmur of everyone eating. The siblings of sin all cluster to the various tables farthest away from him.Â
Cirrus and Cumulus like the entry foyer. The sun comes in through skylights, and the soft rugs make for the perfect cuddle spot. The higher-ups in the clergy hate it. It discourages people from entering the building. Cirrus gets very angry when people step on her tail. Itâs not her fault various siblings of sin keep wetting themselves, sheâs valid in her emotions.
Phantom is widely known as the nicest of the sleepy ghouls. He wonât growl or scream when someone wakes him up. If anything, he gets nicer. Heâll pull anyone and everyone down with him for a good cuddle sesh. A good couple of clergy members were reprimanded for being late to their tasks because of Phantom. They couldnât bring themselves to be angry with the soft ghoul. The naps were always very comfy. Heâs not particular about where he likes to sleep. Heâll join any ghoul anywhere they want.
The siblings of sin like to entertain themselves with Phantomâs fascination with light. Theyâll grab his attention when heâs all groggy from a nap and theyâll point to a spot of light. One of them is surreptitiously holding a mirror or some other shiny thing, refracting the light onto the floor. They all giggle as Phantom chases and pounces on the little spot of light. His tail flicking one way to the next with interest. Eventually, they reveal what theyâre doing and Phantom will pull them down to the ground, and force them to sleep in the sun with him.Â
They all get in trouble for shirking their responsibilities to be lazy with a ghoul, but they donât care. Everyone loves Phantom.
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So... I'm currently working on an omegaverse fic where both omegas accidentally get each other pregnant. Our lucky omegas, Zoro and Sanji...
#shitpost#my shitty fanfic#ill see myself out#one piece zosan#op zosan#zosan#one piece sanzo#sanzo#mpreg
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it was, like, a funny haha to be like "oh loumand post-divorce yearning" but now I positively cannot stop thinking about it.
Armand may have packed his shit and booked it outta there to god-knows-where in the couple nights Louis was away, and yet... Did Louis climb into bed and immediately tear off the sheets because no matter how tired he was- he couldn't stand the smell of Armand's shampoo on the pillow next to him? Did he realize he actually had to go figure out how to work phone himself because he wanted to call the staff back and Armand wasn't there to handle it anymore? Even after all the redecoration is there still a nagging feeling of something missing? Where is the man who touched your waist as he passed behind you? The melodic voice in the other room on the phone with the contractors? He's gone and yet you wake up at dusk still expecting to see him asleep beside you. You'll always remember how you reached for another in the night, the unguarded expression of peace on his face he never quite replicated in wakefulness.
#interview with the vampire#iwtv#loumand#char.txt#guys i havent written a fanfic in literal Years and what i do is mostly shitty poetry but i feel something evil stirring in my soul
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brain could not stop thinking about the Swinbee funny moments with a sudden jealous breakdown
#transformers earthspark#transformers fanart#Bumblebee#Swindle#Breakdown#Swinbee#sorta breakbee? but not really#actually really love the idea behind this ship#i know the sketch is shitty#i am kind of sleep deprived but i HAD to draw this#will never finish this tho you have full permission to yoink this#also this came to me because of a very specific fanfic#Press on the Gas Pedal and Accelerate Baby#great read!#it has fueled my own recent obsession with TF stuff and i am all for it!
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Fanart from the fic "Flickers of Potential" by @asparklethatisblue on AO3!
Guys, go read it if you really like Hurt/Comfort stuff, it's really great.
Words can't explain what the last scene of chapter 1 made me feel so I had to draw it.
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I love the gelphie tag on ao3 so much but it surprises me how few of them want to use the power of fanfic to bring the movie/musical version of glinda the same power she has in the books, both the og and the wicked years books, like, morrible's weather thing? That's glinda's power in the og book she was the good witch of the south with weather powers(and plant based powers, like Rio from AAA) and in the Wicked books she was not as helpless as they made her in the musical either she can use magic even if tends to explode from what i remember lmao. I have several issues with how badly glinda and fiyero suffered from their original versions to the musical and by consequence the movie as a whole tbh.
Edit: OH YEAH AND THAT'S ME FORGETTING TO MENTION HOW IN BAUM'S VERSION NOT ONLY SHE WAS ALL THAT BUT SHE WAS ALSO A SCIENTIST AND HAD AN ALL WOMEN ARMY AND KEPT 100 OF THE MOST BEAUTIFUL WOMEN OF OZ IN HER MANSION anyway i digress, musical glinda was done dirty compared to other versions of the character and i stand by that
#elphaba thropp#galinda arduenna upland#glinda the good witch#gelphie#fiyero tigelaar#more specifically book fiyero my baby boy who was also a little shitty sometimes u deserved so much better than that whitewashing#Wicked#on the topic of the og books#i need fanfic writters to start using the info that Glinda keeos 100 of the most beautiful women of oz in her mansion lmao
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Another dumb gf doodle! This is my favourite stangst fanfic trope, I can read a million fics about Ford becoming the brother they both deserve and it will never be enough!
#art#digital art#sketchbook pro#fanart#stanley pines#stanford pines#gravity falls#gravity falls fanart#fanfic fanart#tropes#stangst#angst#protective ford#sad stanley#shitty doodle#silly art#ford getting slapped in the face with the guilt about being a shitty brother and changing his ways is the best thing ever#stanley deserves all the love#protect my precious boy at all costs#ford also deserves love but 10 years is too long to hold a grudge#40 years is absolutely an overkill#go to therapy
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