#fun fact this is the first time i’ve drawn a dick so it was an interesting experience….my search history for references is real spicy now

[michi-chelle-draws]

ace solo sesh whennn 😩

(full censored versions & a bonus under the cut 💦)

[babydollmarauders]

IN A BOX — TREVOR ZEGRAS AND JAMIE DRYSDALE

trevor zegras x fem!reader x jamie drysdale

12 DAYS OF KINKMAS

summary: in which Trevor and Jamie do the ‘dick in a box’ joke to their fuck buddy, leading to a threesome

warnings: NSFW CONTENT, threesome, oral (f and m receiving), p in v (unprotected), degradation. (2.7k words)

notes: welcome to day 9 of the 12 days of kinkmas! this is the first threesome i’ve ever written, and it features everyone’s favorite dynamic duck duo! this starts out jokey and it makes me laugh ngl.

i’ve never claimed i was smart.

if i were smart, i probably wouldn’t have started sleeping with two of my best friends.

i probably wouldn’t have agreed to their friends-with-benefits arrangement.

and i most certainly, wouldn’t have had my expectations so high when they claimed they had christmas gifts for me.

yet, here i am. sat on Trevor and Jamie’s couch for the past fifteen minutes, a rapidly cooling peppermint hot cocoa clutched in my hands, and a sneaking suspicion that they do not, in fact, have christmas gifts for me.

“guys, are you coming?” i shout in the direction of the stairs, my voice bouncing off the walls of the house.

i can hear Trevor’s wheezy laugh carry down the steps. a mischievous lilt hidden in.

“we will be soon!” he calls back and i huff, slumping further into the couch cushions.

my flight back home for the holidays is tomorrow, the 23rd, and the boys had claimed they have presents they want to give me before i leave. i arrived armed with gifts for each of them, and after they opened them, they had stated they just had to grab my presents from their rooms; but i’m beginning to think they’ve lied to me.

“okay, close your eyes!” i sigh out a ‘finally!’ at the sound of Jamie’s words, squeezing my eyes shut.

“are they closed?” Trevor snickers, sounding closer now.

“yes, Trevor! they’re closed!” i snap, covering my eyes for good measure.

i can hear their footsteps get closer, padding down the stairs and into the living room, before Jamie tells me i can open my eyes.

i’m immediately confused by the sight in front of me, bewildered at the two men clad only in flannel pajama pants. both hold a gift box in front of them, wide smiles on their faces.

“why are you shirtless?” i giggle, my brows threading together as they stand side by side in front of me.

“just open your gifts!” Jamie urges.

“we’ll hold them! you open them!” Trevor tells me. “at the same time! gotta open them at the same time! or else the other present will be spoiled.”

i raise an eyebrow at the hyper hockey player, but he just notions with his head for me to hurry up.

i set my hot cocoa to the side, the mug clanking against the top of the wooden side table beside the couch. i glare at them suspiciously as i scooch to the edge of the couch.

reaching forward with both hands, i pull the tops from the christmas paper lined boxes, only to find what i least expected. there, poking through holes cut in the sides of the boxes, were Trevor and Jamie’s dicks. both already hard, so i’m drawn to assume that’s what they were doing upstairs.

“oh my god!” i peer up at the boys with amusement, a wide, humorous smile on my face. “you guys did not just do the dick in a box gift gag to me.”

“what do you mean ‘gag’?” Trevor jokes, “these are your gifts.”

the hockey players stare down at me, and it’s only then that i clock the lust in their eyes, obviously determined to finish what they started by themselves in their rooms.

my tongue flicks across my bottom lip, wetness pooling in my panties at the thought of a threesome.

sure, i’ve slept with the both of them; but its always been at separate times. never together, despite my persistence to them that i would love to do it.

“well, i guess i should have some fun with my gifts then, right?” Trevor and Jamie smirk at my words, removing themselves from the boxes and leaving themselves untucked from their bottoms.

i let the gift box lids tumble to the floor, reaching both hands forward, to grasp one of them in each hand. i tug, my eyes flitting between them to gauge their reactions.

while Trevor bites his lip, letting out a muffled moan, Jamie’s head tilts back, his jaw going slack.

i continue my movements, slowly jerking the both of them off. getting more and more aroused by the sounds they let out, echoing throughout the downstairs of the house. and when i abruptly stop, both men’s eyes pop open, staring down at me.

“well, you can’t expect me to have fun like this, can you?” i tease them, my tone sultry and low, and just to show them exactly what i mean, i pull my sweater over my head; leaving me in nothing but my skirt and bra.

the two men make quick work of joining me on the couch, sitting on either side of me. Trevor’s hand grazes my neck as he pushes my hair off my shoulder, his head dipping down to attach his lips to my collarbone, suckling and leaving wet kisses up the column of my throat. whereas Jamie takes it upon himself to press his lips to mine. what starts out as lust driven and rushed, quickly turns into passion and need. the defenseman’s tongue runs over the seam of my lips, gaining entry when i part them and pushing his tongue against mine.

Trevor’s hand rests high up on my thigh, slowly inching his way up under my skirt, and it doesn’t take long for him to get even bolder; his fingers finding my clit through my soaked lace panties. his middle finger presses, rubbing me in circular motions, and a high pitched moan escapes my lips, muffled by Jamie’s.

as though coordinated, both men pull away from me, Jamie’s lips puffy and swollen. the tip of Trevor’s nose drags up my throat slowly, until he reaches my ear, his finger halting in its movements.

“you want this?” Jamie asks me, smirking as i nod my head and let out a choked whimper.

“then we need you to be a good girl and strip for us.” Trevor whispers in my ear, pairing his utterance with a roll of my earlobe between his lips.

he pulls away, both pairs of eyes settling on me as i rise from my seat. i unzip my skirt, letting it pool to the floor into a puddle of fabric at my feet, and they suck in a breath at the sight of my matching red lacy set.

“someone knew she was gonna get fucked today.”

i nod at Jamie’s words, bottom lip caught between my teeth as i unclip my bra, pushing the straps off my shoulders and allowing it to drop down to the floor. my nipples are stiff and peaked, the cold air doing nothing to help.

“i didn’t know i would get both of you today though.” i confess, a boost of confidence surging through me as the hockey players ogle my breasts.

“keep going, baby.” Trevor all but groans, watching intently as i begin to drag my panties down my legs, stepping out of them and leaving myself bare for them.

“i hardly think this is fair.” i huff, feigning a pout. “you guys still have your pants on and i’m here all naked for you.”

Jamie hops up from the couch, tugging his flannel pants from his legs, while Trevor merely lifts his hips and takes his off while sitting. both men look at me, seeking reassurance, and i nod.

“much better.”

Trevor grins, leaning forward to grip my by the waist and pulling me back onto the couch. he pushes me flat down, sprawling me out on the sofa, and guides my leg to hook over the back of the couch, leaving me open and vulnerable to his gaze.

my eyes flick to find Jamie, but rather than standing in the spot he once was, he now sits in the chair beside the couch. his hand grips around the base of his cock, squeezing gently to tease himself as he watches Trevor and i.

“let’s see if you taste as good as your cocoa.” Trevor smirks. i roll my eyes at the joke, laughing at his cheesy remark, but my giggles get caught in my throat when he bends down, licking a stripe up my core.

“fuck, Trevor.” i cry out, one hand flying to his head and burying itself in his fluffy dirty blonde hair, as the other fists the couch cushion beside my head.

Trevor chuckles lowly, repositioning himself before diving in like a man starved. his tongue laps at my arousal, my eyes squeezing shut at the feeling, and i can hear Jamie groan from his place near my head.

licking up, Trevor flicks his tongue against my clit, his hands holding my thighs apart to keep me from squeezing them around his head. his lips close around the nub of nerves, sucking it and rolling it between his lips, and i give a tug to his hair, a moan bubbling up my throat as my hips buck against him.

“yes! please, don’t stop!” i whimper, but rather than listen to my words, he chooses to release my clit, letting his tongue drag back down to my entrance.

continuing his assault against my cunt, Trevor brings his thumb to my clit, providing just enough pressure as he begins to rub.

my eyes roll back in my head, my back arching, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach growing; getting stronger and stronger the longer he continues.

“make her come, Z.” Jamie pipes up, “i wanna watch her let go.”

Trevor hums in agreement, the vibrations traveling from his tongue to my pussy. and with just a few more rubs of his thumb, and flicks of his tongue, my breath catches in my throat, my lack of oxygen quickly making me woozy and aiding in tipping me over the edge. i heave out a breath, mingled with a high pitched cry as my vision turns white, my legs shaking as i release on his tongue.

he doesn’t ease up, lapping at my wetness even after i come down from my climax. it’s only when i whine, pushing his head away, that he finally backs away, pushing himself up.

“i’d say she’s ready to be properly fucked, wouldn’t you Jimmy?” Trevor chuckles, staring down at me as i pant to catch my breath.

“yeah, i think i must agree, Trev.” Jamie sidles up to the couch, joining his best friend in watching me in my fucked out bliss. “i think she can take another one, don’t you?”

“i know she can.” Trevor confirms. taking ahold of my hands, Trevor helps me up, motioning for me to spin around. once i do so, Jamie nudges my back, forcing me onto all fours before he kneels behind me.

“can’t wait to have those pretty lips wrapped around my cock.” Trevor mutters, his thumb running along my bottom lip. “you think you can handle me fucking your face?”

i peer up at him through my lashes, working hard to focus my vision, as i can feel Jamie running his tip through my wetness. nodding my head, Trevor smiles down at me darkly.

“yeah, i know you can.”

gripping his cock, Trevor pushes the tip against my lips, urging me to open up for him, and i happily do so, relaxing my throat as he pushes in. it’s in this moment that Jamie thrusts in to the hilt, bottoming out inside of me, and i choke, my eyes rolling back as i adjust to the fullness.

“fuck, you feel like heaven.” Jamie grunts, pulling all the way out before he intrudes me once more, setting a quick pace. “so fucking tight, i could fuck you all day.”

i clench around him in acknowledgement, a groan falling from his lips at the feeling.

i can barely hear his grunt over the sounds of my gagging as Trevor thrusts into my face, his hands gripping the side of my head as he guides me. pulling out, i’m given a little reprieve, sucking in a deep breath as Trevor slaps my cheek with his cock, drool and pre-cum dripping down my chin.

“you’ve been wanting this for so long, haven’t you?” the forward mocks me, slipping himself back past my lips as i whine.

“you just wanna be filled, don’t you?” Jamie chimes in, “fucked thoroughly.”

i can’t respond, but i have the suspicion that’s how they want it, both laughing as i focus purely on pleasure.

i can feel myself sucking Jamie in every time he thrusts, my walls closing around him in effort to keep him there. his tip drags against my g-spot every time his hips snap, and i can feel the pressure in my stomach building itself back up. tying into knots as he quickens his pace.

his skin slaps against mine, and his hand spreads across my back, pushing down to get me to arch it, and i follow his lead. the new angle makes my toes curl, but i can’t focus too hard on it because i can feel Trevor’s dick begin to throb.

Trevor’s head tips back, a loud moan escaping him as he pulls back again, letting me breathe through my mouth for a moment rather than my nose, before he pushes my head back down.

“shit! i’m gonna come!” Trevor breathes out, and i relax my throat, hollowing out my cheeks as he pushes me until my nose makes contact with his abdomen, holding me there as his abs flex. his cock twitches just before he sighs, ropes of cums spurting in my mouth and down my throat.

pulling out of my mouth, he gazes back down at me.

“show it to me.” i open my mouth, allowing him to see his release, and he grips my cheeks, pulling my head up. drawing his head back, he spits, some making it into my mouth while rest splatters on my cheek. “now swallow.”

his hand slides down to my throat, feeling the muscles work as i gulp, swallowing it down.

“good girl.”

with Trevor finished, Jamie takes this as his time to alter our position. shooing away his teammates hand, Jamie replaces Trevor’s grip on my throat with his own, pulling me up until my back is flat against his chest.

his hips buck, fucking himself up into me at a hard and fast pace, making my legs shake. his other hand finds my pearl, rubbing as he thrusts.

“that’s it. take this dick like a good girl.” Jamie whispers, his lips ghosting the shell of my ear, and it’s the combination of those words and his fingers circling my clit, that set me off, clenching around him as i reach my orgasm.

tears roll down my cheeks at the pleasure, my breath hitching once more as i come on his cock.

“fuck, squeezing me so tight, i’m gonna come.” Jack curses, making me clench around him again, spurring on his own release. he continues fucking me through our orgasms, causing chills to run down my spine.

releasing his hold on me, i flop down onto my back on the couch, catching my breath as the boys on either side of the couch do the same.

it’s silent in the room, nothing but the sound of heavy breathing, until Jamie speaks up.

“so remind me, why have we never done this before?”

Trevor and i let out shallow laughter, the defenseman joining us when he finally caught his breath.

“so…” i trail off, gaining the attention of both boys.

“you can use my shower.” Trevor tells me, and i nod. but when i make no move to get up, they both furrow their brows at me.

“give a girl a second!” i huff, “i think my legs are jello.”

at my words, both hockey players smirk, Trevor lifting his hand in the air for Jamie to fist bump.

once we’ve all three recovered, taken quick showers, and Jamie has remade my now long having gone cold cocoa; we rejoin on the couch, a blanket draped over the trio of us.

“what do we wanna watch?” Trevor questions, the remote clutched in his hand.

“a christmas movie.” i state, as though it’s obvious.

“Elf?” Jamie suggests, and i nod, Trevor already finding it on a streaming service.

about 20 minutes into the movie, i curl my legs up, cuddling into Jamie’s shoulder while Trevor’s hand grips my foot in a calming manner.

they both glance over at me, but upon seeing my still open eyes, immediately look back at the tv. Jamie repositions us, his arm now around me while my head lays on his chest, and despite my hardest attempts, my eyes flutter shut not long later. my breathing evening out as i fall asleep.

[vaguely-concerned]

BEHOLD! The list of evidence for my bold claim that Pan and Freddie dislike each other ferociously on sight because they are, in some key ways and despite appearances, very similar people: 

- First instinct upon seeing Grace sad is to try to make her laugh to cheer her up. (See: Freddie’s very first lines in the game starting off as she means to go on, and about half the things Pan ever says or does lol. In the last scene with him before The Trial you can even tell him you’re there just because you wanted to talk to him and have something cheer you up.) General sources of levity and fun and play in Grace’s life if you seek them out. 

- They react with similar anxiety to the idea of Grace being really angry with them (Freddie’s surprised/dismayed “Why are you angry at me?!” in the red route of ‘I Can Teach You’, the millenia-old god of the wild hiding behind a tree for ten minutes because he thinks Grace might be about to yell at him lmao <3)

- Both of them seem to have similar interpersonal insecurities in general, judging by the enforced choice between them in ‘I Can Teach You’ (I love you both so much but oh my god. is this a constructive use of time or energy under the circumstances lol), softened and alleviated by the fact that at the end of the day the most important thing to either of them is that Grace is happy. It isn’t possessiveness, but there is an element of underlying ‘Hey. Hey I am your favorite right?? 🥺’ insecurity there that trips them both up to begin with. Once you play the game and go back to look at this scene again knowing everyone’s real motivations, they’re even coming from the same place deep down — genuine fear for Grace’s safety and wanting to help her. (Freddie uncomplicatedly out of love🥹, and Pan at that stage probably more out of a guilty sense of responsibility, though he does seem to take a shine to Grace herself pretty quickly as well. Also he demonstrably isn’t, uh. Completely wrong in saying Freddie’s involvement in this whole mess is likely to end in tears, even if he is being a real dick about it) 

- If you don’t choose either in ‘I Can Teach You’, they both show up within minutes of each other to watch Grace’s back in the Medusa quest anyway. One brain cell ping pong and no one notices because they keep trying to swat each other with the racquets whenever Grace glances away for a second

Sidenote but flirting with both of them one after the other in that quest is fucking hilarious, they’re just taking turns ‘Really? Right in front of my salad?’-ing directly at the camera (...listen I feel that there is a chance that as long as they kept Grace between them the whole time there could be a thing here. I think a possible universe out there where it happens at least once does exist if one cared to go seek it out. That’s all I’m saying.) 

- Seems a bit obvious but what else am I here for: both very drawn to Grace no matter what main trait you choose. Whether this is true vice versa is of course player-dependent, but it is one way you can play the game. 

- Incredibly similar defensive reactions to being picked on or sniped at (and no hesitation whatsoever in subjecting each other to exactly that immediately anyway haha) 

- A bit dark when you think about it, but they both express the sentiment that it would be better for them to step in and die if it means Grace lives. (Freddie very directly of course ;______; and then in ‘It’s time’, Pan in ‘The Trial’ and the little talk you have with him later in Athena’s office.)  

Matching ‘ride or die’ instincts once awoken, is what I’m getting at. Freddie gets extra points for sheer longevity and constancy, Pan gets extra points for getting there in a week. You’re both unhinged (affectionate) 

- They’re the only ones among the main cast wearing green, right? I think I’ve got that right? Well, Charon does too, I suppose, but he’s a bit more peripheral. (Persephone and Aphrodite wear blue-green, but that seems more associated with death and the underworld and the river of grief everyone keeps using as a metaphor throughout the game.) Somehow I find the idea/metaphor that once you get Pan out from under like three layers of bullshit he’s the same colour as Freddie (who is inarguably The symbol of devotion and steadfastness in this game no matter your choices) quite sweet. 

- Nerds. You know I am right. Slightly different kinds of nerd (Freddie is distinctly geek-flavoured and Pan collects rare books for sport sort of distinction), but still. Oh my god. Freddie should get the whole cast together to play D&D in the Reliquary post-game. It would be absolute carnage. It would be glorious hilarity. *GASP* no wait not the Reliquary, let’s go to the Underworld so Charon gets to play too. For the love of all that is good give this to me now please I need it 

- The only two people who think Freddie losing control of her powers and causing a dance number at a funeral is hilarious

In short this is a recognition of the self through the other (derogatory) situation for both of them and neither of them decides to take that with any dignity or grace (ahaha) in the slightest, I love them very much,  thank you and goodnight 

[burberrycanary]

Hi there! I am about midway through reading your story Lost Vocabularies and it is amazing!! The whole series has been so lovely, I’m obsessed with the way you write! The way that you convey the boys complicated emotions and capture all the little nuances of their dynamic has me feral!! Beyond even them the way you inject so much personality into the locations is so good, I feel like I am there!! So thank you for writing this lovely story 💕 I was wondering if you happen to have a list of all the books that Bucky and Steve read? I have been looking up a lot of them and adding them to my to read list bc they sound so interesting lol! On that same note, how did you decide what books to mention? Are they all ones that you have read or did you do research to find ones you thought they would like?

I’ve been coming back and rereading this kind and wonderful comment in my inbox over the last few weeks when way too many massive, stressful, time-sensitive things were all happening at once. 💕 But since I have a little breather between crazy periods, I get to dive in here as a treat.

Lost Vocabularies involved a lot of research, which I hope isn’t apparent because I didn’t want there to be any noticeable difference between the parts of the story that are based on places I’d been, foods I’d tried and books I’d read personally—and what was created purely based on research. Fingers crossed that the seams don't show!

In this series, we see both Steve and Bucky use art to process—helping them understand themselves and connect to the world again. Bucky is drawn to stories while Steve as an artist is much more visual, but the underlying impulse is similar. In the same way that you learn a lot by glancing through someone’s bookshelves, what characters read is interesting to me, and revealing. This version of Bucky is a very private person so these books offer a glimpse into his inner life. And as the POV character we get to experience all these things alongside Steve.

I’m not much of a sci-fi or fantasy reader so some of Bucky’s picks were a real challenge for me. But I wanted these to be grounded in the characters and the storytelling functions, not based on my own taste and opinions, though of course those always bleed through. 

Steve’s Reading List

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Bucky’s Reading List

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos by Steven H. Strogatz

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I’ve included some notes and commentary on why I picked each of these works under the cut.

The Same River, Twice (The Man Is Still Left with His Hands)

The Day of the Triffids by John Wyndham

Classic post-WWII dystopian sci-fi that focuses on society collapsing after a series of catastrophes that were unintentional but very much caused by people, which leads to a lot of the population becoming blind. Thematically this work engages with the loss of identity that people, both abled and disabled, face in the process of survival and a dark look at what happens after societies break down. How this applies to Bucky is obvious, but part of the argument of this post-Endgame series is that it applies to Steve, too. 

Also, there are huge mobile carnivorous plants. 

Fun fact: the opening of this novel is said to have been the inspiration for 28 Days Later!

Still Left with the River (The Paradox of Motion)

Alice Neel: People Come First by Kelly Baum and Randall Griffey

Alice Neel’s portraits are extraordinary, almost unnervingly vivid. In this story, Steve is familiar with her work as a fellow New York-based artist active in communist circles in the 1930s. She also worked for the WPA, producing wonderful street scenes that documented New York neighborhoods of the era. 

To be honest, I have so many questions about what Steve was up to in the late 1930s before his war mania of the 40s hits.

One of the core themes of this series is Steve struggling with what his body is for if it’s no longer for violence. Who is he if he’s not a soldier? What is his radically changed body if it’s not a weapon? How do you come home from the war?

In this regard, Steve and Bucky have all kinds of shared life experience.

So thematically I include Neel because of her startling gift for capturing personalities and bodies through a process of frank, earnest, truthful observation of the integrated completeness of body and self: this space that’s you. 

But a book of Alice Neel’s work with her sensitive portraits and fleshy frank nudes pulls him into flipping through page after page of these personalities and bodies, not idealized: seen.

Steve isn’t ready for that when he bumps into this big “impractical” art book in a holdover Barnes & Noble in Brooklyn, not when he’s still so shook up and adrift. But he will be.

There’s such empathy and radical humanism to her pieces. “People,” as she famously said, “come first.” I stand by the conclusion that Steve would love her work.

The Thing on the Doorstep and Other Weird Stories by H. P. Lovecraft

Lovecraft was relatively unknown in his lifetime—he died in 1937—but his stories were published in popular fantasy pulp magazines like Weird Tales and Astounding Stories, which is where Bucky would have come across his work. The fact that Steve recognizes Lovecraft by name means that teenage Bucky must have talked about what he was reading and the pulp stories he liked with teenage Steve, which is adorable—“this Lovecraft fellow, Steve, you wouldn’t believe the stuff he comes up with.” And Steve was paying attention enough to remember two decades and change later without the benefit of his serum-enhanced memory, which hurts my heart a little in the best possible way. 

That’s how Steve all these years and decades later is able to wordlessly toss this collection of H. P. Lovecraft’s stories at Bucky on a hot hazy stumbled-upon beach in northern Florida and watch Bucky’s whole face light up. 

And of course Bucky would view Lovecraft as a great beach read 😂

But this is the basis for something I’ve written into this series: Bucky excitedly sharing things he finds interesting with Steve—wanting to tell Steve first, Steve most. And although Steve is quiet, stoical and very self-contained, he’s paying a whole hell of a lot of attention.

Given that Bucky is canonically a Tolkien fan, I think the imaginativeness and ranging scope of Lovecraft’s complex, often interconnected stories would appeal to him. And, thematically, Lovecraft is distinctive for the era for having characters psychologically fragment when confronting these vast inhuman others. 

“The Call of Cthulhu” opens with:

The most merciful thing in the world, I think, is the inability of the human mind to correlate all its contents. We live on a placid island of ignorance in the midst of black seas of infinity, and it was not meant that we should voyage far.

Steve and Bucky have each voyaged out a long way.

Trauma, in a way, is a form of terrible knowledge. You can heal but you can’t unknow things. 

Not Language but a Map (The Grammar of Sensation)

A Scanner Darkly by Philip K. Dick

This is the first book in the series that we see Bucky pick for himself. And, wow, he picks a doozy with themes of multiple and unstable identities, invasive surveillance, manipulation, psychosis, and how individuals can get chewed up by larger systems, falling through the cracks of society. Dick was writing based on his own troubled experiences with southern California drug culture of the early 70s, but this work gets at much more fundamental darknesses that I think would speak to some of the horrors Bucky has gone through and won’t talk about, not even with Steve. 

Within the first few pages, we get this:

It was midday, in June of 1994. In California, in a tract area of cheap but durable plastic houses, long ago vacated by the straights. Jerry had at an earlier date sprayed metal paint over all the windows, though, to keep out the light; the illumination for the room came from a pole lamp into which he had screwed nothing but spot lamps, which shone day and night, so as to abolish time for him and his friends. He liked that; he liked to get rid of time. By doing that he could concentrate on important things without interruption.

The Beautiful Mysterious: The Extraordinary Gaze of William Eggleston, edited by Ann J. Abadie

Eggleston was an early pioneer in color photography and that fascination with color is very apparent in his work. I think this focus would grab Steve as an artist who doesn’t take seeing the full spectrum of color for granted. Even in the MCU’s thin action-film scripts, Steve comments on things that offend his aesthetic sensibilities even when that has absolutely no bearing on the situation at hand, from Stark Tower to Lang’s van.

Not even a world-ending crisis can keep Steve from going, wow, no, that’s ugly. I enjoyed running with that 😂

Steve’s view of Eggleston’s photographs shifts over the course of the series, reflecting what he’s feeling, from the fragmented and disconnected detachment—“isolated and off-kilter”— that he sees in them at the beginning that shifts to the passionate engagement in the world he finds in them later. 

Steve looks through the whole book of William Eggleston’s photographs again and at first the colors still roll over him like the shockwave of a distant explosion, all he can focus on. But gradually the subjects and compositions pull forward, too: monumentalized images of the everyday that at first seem neutral, the work of a detached observer. But the off-center framing of ordinary life is so deliberate as though everything might be important and where every detail deserves attention—that’s nothing like neutral. That’s not detached at all. You have to care a whole hell of a lot.

This mirrors the journey this post-Endgame Steve goes on. Because Steve Rogers should be a character who cares a whole hell of a lot, not what the MCU writers eventually reduced him to. And that’s what this fix-it is trying to fix. 

Lost Vocabularies that Might Express (The Memory of These Broken Impressions)

QED: The Strange Theory of Light and Matter by Richard Feynman

I love writing Bucky as a big fucking science nerd. His last night in New York and how does he want to spend the time? At a science fair with his best friend and a couple of pretty girls. So Bucky reading about quantum electrodynamics is delightful to me. The thing is, though, Bucky is a bright enough guy with a high school education. He’s not a genius—and the MCU is lousy with geniuses. But if Bucky wanted to learn a little more about all this quantum stuff he heard about in passing during some vague and very improbable sounding explanations, which by the way also allowed one of the few people still living who truly matters to him and the closest thing Bucky had left to family to fuck off to the past, well, Feynman’s QED isn’t a bad place to start in understanding some of this quantum stuff, at least. 

Feynman here is very much writing for a popular audience. His writing is conversational—the book is adapted from a set of lectures he gave—and his voice is witty, casual and surprisingly light, but at the same time Feynman is deeply invested in helping lay people understand quantum mechanics. The book opens with:

Alix Mautner was very curious about physics and often asked me to explain things to her. I would do all right, just as I do with a group of students at Caltech that come to me for an hour on Thursdays, but eventually I’d fail at what is to me the most interesting part: We would always get hung up on the crazy ideas of quantum mechanics. I told her I couldn’t explain these ideas in an hour or an evening—it would take a long time—but I promised her that someday I’d prepare a set of lectures on the subject.

I prepared some lectures, and I went to New Zealand to try them out—because New Zealand is far enough away that if they weren’t successful, it would be all right! Well, the people in New Zealand thought they were okay, so I guess they’re okay—at least for New Zealand! So here are the lectures I really prepared for Alix, but unfortunately I can’t tell them to her directly, now.

C’mon! Tell me Bucky Barnes would not be hooked by this opening. 

Thematically, and more seriously, the question of how could Steve do this? has two very different meanings. So far in this series Bucky isn’t ready to confront the harder version of that question which comes potentially with some very painful answers: how could Steve make that choice? Nope, he’s not ready for that. Instead, his brain unconsciously takes the easier way out: trying to understand quantum electrodynamics. 😂😭

Do Androids Dream of Electric Sheep? by Philip K. Dick

Bucky must have liked A Scanner Darkly, because he went for another Philip K. Dick novel. Today remembered mostly as the source material for Blade Runner, this bleak dystopian novel is set in the aftermath of a devastating nuclear war that destroys most life on Earth. The work has themes around empathy—who feels empathy and for what?—materialism and what really makes us human. 

I find it interesting how Sebastian Stan talks about The Winter Soldier in terms of someone who has undergone a process of total desensitization, which to varying degrees is deliberately part of the training of all soldiers. But rebuilding his core sense of empathy was one of the things Bucky chose to do as soon as he had any agency in that two-year period where he was on the run, which is remarkable. As a person who has been treated as though he wasn’t human and had his empathy forcibly stripped from him, I think Bucky would have a lot of complicated feelings about the enslaved androids who escape but are ruthlessly tracked down and killed. Some of these escaped androids are dangerous and do lack basic empathy—shown in the book by torturing and mutilating an animal—while other androids seem like ordinary people just trying to live their lives. 

I like that Bucky talks about the book with Steve later in the story, returning in my view to a very old habit of bookworm Bucky wanting to share what he’d been reading with Steve <333

“I need to find something to read next,” Bucky says after wrapping up his description of an imagined religion that involved plugging into a box to virtually suffer the existence of a man forever walking up a steep hill while struck by crashing stones. 

“Well, did the androids dream of electric sheep?” Steve asks.

“Who knows?” Bucky knocks into him gently as he takes the bowl Steve passes over. “They just wanted to be free. Though the free people just wanted to own stuff or plug into a box and suffer. So, you know, sort of a grim outlook. ”

“A little light, cheerful reading.”

“Hey, we live in a world where people write ‘Take back what’s yours’ in the streets and then smash up the windows. Dystopias don’t seem so far off the mark.”

Six Not-So-Easy Pieces: Einstein's Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time by Richard Feynman

Another case of Bucky sticking with an author he likes! To me, this implies that Bucky has already read Feynman’s Six Easy Pieces, which explains some of the foundational basics of physics for a very broad and non-technical audience. Six Not-So-Easy Pieces is also drawn from Feynman’s famous Lectures on Physics, focusing here on relativity and space-time, but this work assumes a greater knowledge of math, hence the name. But as a legendary sniper Bucky must have a strong aptitude for math and anyway I just leaned into making Bucky an all-around nerd, because Bucky Barnes, nerd who grew up hot, is delightful to me. 

Relativity, Symmetry, and Space-Time are all on point for a post-Endgame fix-it, which I think should count as a not-so-easy piece in its own right. 

Throughout the series, we see Bucky using physical copies when he reads fiction, more or less from unconscious nostalgia: connecting back to memories of his younger self who was an avid reader of pulp magazines and cheap paperbacks. Once Steve gets him going with that first quietly tossed-over gift, Bucky always carries around a sci-fi or fantasy book in this series despite the limited space in his backpack. And this familiarity wouldn’t just be from his pre-war life since I figure Bucky would have gone for the Armed Services Editions that were distributed for free to soldiers. Bucky likely traded with other soldiers once he finished a book if he couldn’t get a new ASE distribution: trading in his finished novel for a new one is Bucky unconsciously falling back into another old habit.

But for non-fiction, Bucky is absolutely here for the Modern Marvel of being able to carry around as many books as he likes on his phone. I figure Bucky would have used public libraries during certain stages of his recovery when he was homeless and migratory since they are a place to get information that is consistently available in cities; and a warm, quiet place you can go with a minimal number of security cameras. I headcanon a middle-aged librarian who has a few streaks of gray in her dark hair—and who reminds Bucky of someone but he has no idea who—explaining what e-books are to this tall, gaunt, soft-spoken homeless guy with an eye contact problem. And this person who isn’t the Asset anymore and isn’t Bucky Barnes yet has the out-of-nowhere thought: huh, whaddaya know. That’s pretty neat.

Nonlinear Dynamics And Chaos: With Applications To Physics, Biology, Chemistry, And Engineering by Steven H. Strogatz

Isolated systems tend to evolve towards a single equilibrium and these equilibrium points have been the focus of many-body research for centuries. But life is generally not that simple because most systems aren’t isolated. Often the dynamics of a system result from the product of multiple different interacting forces and objects in these systems can change between multiple different attractor wells over time. Or as Strogatz puts it:

As we’ve mentioned earlier, most nonlinear systems are impossible to solve analytically. Why are nonlinear systems so much harder to analyze than linear ones? The essential difference is that linear systems can be broken down into parts. Then each part can be solved separately and finally recombined to get the answer. This idea allows a fantastic simplification of complex problems, and underlies such methods as normal modes, Laplace transforms, superposition arguments, and Fourier analysis. In this sense, a linear system is precisely equal to the sum of its parts.

But many things in nature don’t act this way. Whenever parts of a system interfere, or cooperate, or compete, there are nonlinear interactions going on. Most of everyday life is nonlinear, and the principle of superposition fails spectacularly. 

You can think of nonlinear dynamics as situations in which the sum of the parts is insufficient to understand the whole. This connects to multiple themes in this story as Bucky and Steve try to understand themselves, their lives and each other. But here Bucky is also just continuing to live his best life as a nerd with a strong intuitive knack for math, a high school education, an internet connection and a growing collection of science e-books. Or as Bucky puts it:

“It’s nice, though, like this smart guy is just talking to you but doesn’t assume you’re dumb because of what you don’t know.”

It’s touched on only very lightly in the series so far, but Bucky has a lot of complex feelings about higher education that relate to class, indirectly to sexuality, and go back to the experience of being the son of upwardly mobile working-class immigrants who were very bought-in on a traditional take on the American Dream.

Stranger in a Strange Land by Robert A. Heinlein

I picked this partly because I thought the title would grab Bucky, who has been a stranger in a strange land several times over. Thematically this midcentury sci-fi novel focuses on challenging social norms through having the main character, a human who’d been raised by Martians on Mars, come back to Earth as an adult. A best-seller in its day that was controversial for its rejection of Christianity, monogamy and the nuclear family, the work is very tied to the looming cultural changes of the 60s and 70s. 

The novel’s critical reputation has been steadily in decline for decades, but I think Bucky would find it interesting since he grew up within the traditional early 20th-century culture this novel satirizes and challenges—mores that this story’s version of Bucky didn’t unquestioningly accept but didn’t openly challenge, either.

Having Bucky pick this novel reflects the themes for the last act of this story that focus more on Steve and Bucky's different experiences as closeted queer men growing up in a deeply homophobic society. These experiences continue to shape and impact them and yet are also a past these two are coming to terms with and growing beyond. 

Fun fact: this novel coined the word “grok.”

One Mighty and Irresistible Tide: The Epic Struggle Over American Immigration, 1924-1965 by Jia Lynn Yang

Of all the books featured in this series, One Mighty and Irresistible Tide is my top recommendation. This is an accessible, well-written history of a topic that haunts American history: immigration. The specific focus is the waves of legislation passed in the first half of the 20th century that tried—and often succeeded—in limiting who could legally immigrate based on the racial and ethnic hierarchies that equally haunt American history, right down to the foundation. 

In this series, I wanted to pick up the themes of social justice and immigration that were so vaguely and incoherently included in TFATWS. These themes are inherent in the Snap and Return plotline except that Disney does not want to touch any of these politics with a ten-foot pole. But I remain fascinated by trying to wrap my mind around what it would mean for half the population to vanish and then return five years later, catastrophically in both cases. It’s a huge, intricate, sticky, difficult world-building problem that’s inescapably political. 

Steve isn’t quite ready to dive into facing or helping to fix the problems of the post-Return world that his actions helped to create. But here we get to see Steve’s burned-out passion and conviction slowly rekindle as he reads about the complicated and often ugly history of American immigration—and he gets mad about it. Of course, he gets mad about it! This is my answer to the ludicrous idea that Steve Rogers could quietly sit out the second half of the twentieth century. 

At the same time, I can have compassion for Steve knowing he can’t keep going but not knowing how to help himself, only to be given the cursed monkey’s paw of time travel. And he fucks up. His actions have real and lasting consequences. But that doesn’t make the situation hopeless or mean Steve can’t try to repair the relationships he damaged or work to regain the trust he lost, assuming he’s lucky enough to be given another chance by people who love him but have been hurt by his choices.

One of the greatest challenges in writing this Endgame fix-it was accepting Endgame as the starting point of the story and trying to reconcile a character I love with the choices canon has him make. Over the course of these stories, the central point isn’t Steve coming back to Bucky. It’s Steve coming back to himself. Through a slow and painful struggle, Steve finds himself again—rediscovering his stubborn endurance, his compassion for others and his drive to set wrongs right. Steve stumbled, badly, but he gets back up. Because that’s who Steve Rogers is. 

And because of who Bucky Barnes is—his innate kindness, his warm-hearted generosity and his stubborn loyalty that isn’t blind but runs deep—that’s how these two characters come back to each other, after everything.

Deliberately, this series is the first hard-fought and hopeful glimmer in a long trudging process that can get so heavy to carry forward, day after day, but is shot through with moments of beauty and joy all the same. 

I can't go on; I'll go on.

In other words, to quote one of my favorite poets: what the living do.

[obscure-imagines]

(*horror genre/smut warning*)

-where do I even start with this dude

-he’s highly intelligent, so boy isn’t going to fall for you easily

-in fact, he will aggressively attempt not to fall for you

-What if you get put in a heart game together or he has to kill you, or maybe you’ll just die- it’s a dangerous world out there

-no, he wouldn’t WANT to like you

-but fuck, every time you’re in the room his eyes are drawn to you

-Trust issue baby

-Opening up to you? not any time soon, that’s for sure :)

-it would take ages for him to even approach you

-he might not, boy has control of himself

-no, talking to him would either be on you to make happen, or accidental

-maybe you somehow end up at a game together

-and you approach him, sticking to his side for most of the game, one taste of you is all it takes

-he can’t just ignore you anymore

-especially since you’re around all the time (The Beach is an odd place, and you’re looking all cute in your beach outfit-)

-he likes to be on his game, 100% of the time

-and being with you is a distraction

-he kind of hates it, but he’s addicted to you too

-the first night you end up cuddling, after a trying game where you weren’t sure if you both made it out alive, Chishiya admits to himself he can’t live without you

-with you asleep, curled up in his arms, he knows he has to make the best of whatever time you both have left

-boy low key sucks at the idea of a relationship though

-thinks of them like a game

-and winning- well, winning is the end goal eh? ;)

-kind of a little nympho tbh

-quickie king

-hates pda, in fact, probably wont even let people know you’re dating, it’s a weakness, it means people can use you against him-

-play with his hair

-he’ll pretend to hate it, but he secretly loves it when your fingers are threading through his strands

-he’s pretty intense

-pretty needy, if he wants something, he’s going to get it: even if it’s your attention, or a kiss

-yeah, baby boy needs some kisses

-and cuddles

-and hugs

-he’ll pretend not to enjoy them as much as he does, but let’s be real, touch starved honey likes being held

-he watches himself fall deeper and deeper in love with you and it sucks because he’s terrified you’ll die/be hurt, but it also pushes him to want to win even more

-keeps you close at all times because you’re the most important thing in the world to him

-you’d be the good angel on his shoulder, and if you’re lucky he’ll listen to you... sometimes, but he’s still a dick head

-it’s kill or be killed, he tries to drill that into your brain

-the type to cup your face and look into your eyes before every game, doesn’t need to TELL YOU he loves you, you can both feel it

-low key, probably will take FOREVER to say ‘i love you’ for the first time, because saying it makes it real

-He almost pays more attention to your visa than his own

-very protective of you

-hates it whenever Niragi is around

-low key keeps note of people who piss him off in regard to you, maybe some guy was rude to you, or tried to dance with you at The Beach, regardless, Chishiya will remember and bide his time to get revenge

-is he ever not planning something?

-boy plans super far in advance, and sometimes, if you’re lucky, he’ll talk with you about all the moving pieces in his mind

-philosophical talks about the game and why you were both chosen etc...

-oddly enough, lots of cuddles, play with his fingers, show him affection

-cute boy brings you little gifs he finds, a flower that reminded him of you, chocolates, etc... 

-he’s actually a pretty great boyfriend because he views everything as a game, like, he wants to be WINNING the boyfriend game fam

-lets get into some fun smutty stuff

-real talk, boy gives me some lazy pillow princess vibes

-but he’s also pretty intense

-I think he’d favour balanced positions

-so spooning sex where he can have his arms around you

-he’ll let you ride it, in fact, loves to watch you ride him

-big watcher boy, loves having something pretty to look at

-mirrors could be fun

-he’s really down for most things

-not hella verbal, can dirty talk but prefers not to

-down for some good old fashioned choking, but won’t ever go too hard on you

-he’s a good switch, that’s my opinion on it

-but any control you have, you have because he’s giving it to you, so don’t forget that

-because all it would take is one sassy remark and he could flip you from behind on top, to being on your back, with your wrists pinned to your chest

-tease boy

-likes to make you shiver

-likes to make you beg for it

-wants you to be whining for him

-lazy, but Chishiya does enjoy power

-home made sex toys anyone? i mean, leave it to this dude to find a vibrator that works during the legit semi apocalypse (or whatever u want to even call the mess that is shadow Tokyo and The Games)

-if you’re super nice, he might let you wear his fun hoodies

-someone, ANYONE, mark this man’s neck up

-low key, as i’ve said, would want to keep your relationship pretty secret, so if you mark up his neck- boy is going to have some explaining to do

-maybe you can bring out the super dom Chishiya

-like... mad Chishiya? are we ready for him? I think not. 

-those collarbones- if you even tease and nip at them a little, man is going to grab your hair roughly, fight me on this

-finding lots of places to secretly hug and talk and kiss

-it’s hard for him sometimes to not stand next to you at meetings, because he wants to hold your hand : (

-soft boy

-get used to the sass master

-he’s.... well, he lies, he gaslights, he’s that kind of dude, but with you he sticks to white lies, catch him telling one and he’ll be impressed

-i’m not going to lie and say this would be sunshine and rainbows

-The Game makes trust difficult, especially because the heart games can be so brutal

-but once you both trust each other, fully, this is a power couple

-Chishiya has that confidence-

-honestly? good luck to all us Chishiya simps tbh

[sunshinebuckybarnes]

the last time

Pairing: Ransom Drysdale x reader

Summary: It was meant to be one night but somehow you couldn’t stop yourself from being drawn to Ransom over and over again.

Warnings: ANGST, Ransom is a serious arsehole in this! Smut; oral (m+f receiving), pet names, daddy kink, unprotected sex. This blog is 18+ only. Minors DNI.

Author's Note: I got a mad burst of inspo when listening to Change by Pale Waves, the line "you've hurt me a thousand times before but I'm missing you right now so do it once more" really stuck with me. I’ve never written angst or smut before so pls be kind, I’m usually all out fluff so this is new territory! I originally was going to write this as Bucky but I just couldn’t bring myself to make him such a dick. Hope you enjoy it! Comments and reblogs are so appreciated (word count: 3.8k)

Your relationship with Ransom was turbulent from the get go. You met him eight months ago at a dive bar downtown. You were both drunk and horny and a little sad - the perfect match.

You’d had a really shitty week at work and just wanted to blow off steam. Ransom had just come from a family dinner and was aggravated to the point the alcohol wasn’t even helping. The two of you didn’t even make it out of the bar. Letting him fuck you in the bathroom, nothing but filthy words exchanged. He’d bolted before you’d even caught your breath, throwing a quick wink your way as he shoved your panties in his back pocket. You should have known then that anything more would be a mistake.

Seeing Ransom again wasn’t your plan, you were more than happy to take it as a one night only kind of thing, but the universe has a funny way of proving you wrong.

You bumped into him three days later at a charity gala your boss was hosting. He looked good. So good in fact that you couldn’t help thinking about round two in what would be a considerably nicer bathroom. But your plans for a quickie were soon squashed when he walked right past you, as if you’d never met let alone had his cock down your throat a few days prior. You stared after him in shock. Watching the way he curled his arm around another woman’s waist. You couldn’t help the rage that bubbled up inside you. That smug, trust fund prick, became your mantra for the night as you drowned your rage in champagne.

Just as you’d started to enjoy yourself, the alcohol making you feel light and fuzzy, you were dragged by your arm into a storage closet. Your first instinct was to scream but a large, warm hand came around your body and covered your mouth.

“You miss me yet, princess?” Ransom whispered in your ear, his hot breath hitting your face as you tried to squirm away.

He released you and you turned around to look at him. Giving him the most piercing glare you could manage.

“Don’t flatter yourself, Drysdale. With the way you’ve spent the whole night pretending I don’t exist I wouldn’t miss you even if you begged for it,” you scoffed.

The chuckle he let out did nothing to squash the fire that was burning inside of you. Whether it was anger or want, you weren’t quite sure, but you had no intention of finding out. You turned on your heel ready to leave as quickly as you’d been dragged in when his next words stopped you in your tracks.

“Don’t you at least want these back, princess?”

You whipped your head around in confusion, eyes going wide with shock as you looked at your panties in his large hand.

“You seriously kept my underwear and then brought them to a charity event?” You sputtered, “what the fuck Ransom?!”

You went to grab them but he quickly moved them out of your reach, causing you to fall into his chest.

“Ransom, I’m not messing around, give me those back! And why do you even have them on you? Do you just carry them around all the time?” you huffed, reaching for his hand again.

“Don’t be stupid, princess. I knew you were going to be here so I wanted to have a little fun,” he smirked.

“I’m guessing you didn’t tell your girlfriend out there that you were carrying around my underwear?”

Ransom chuckled again, “I knew that would get to you.”

That made you pause. Looking up at him you couldn’t help but roll your eyes as you realised what he was doing. “Seriously, Ransom?! What kind of game are you trying to play here?”

He just shrugged, the smirk never leaving his face, “I wanted to know how hot you looked when you were angry and you didn’t let me down princess.”

“Prick,” you muttered under your breath, reaching out to grab your underwear.

“How about we make a deal? I’ll give you these back if you let me have a taste of that sweet cunt”

You stopped trying to grab your panties and just stared at him. He had the most devilish smirk on his face and you had to suppress the whimper that threatened to come out. His eyes traced down your face, stopping at your lips as you slid your tongue against them.

“What do you say huh? Gonna let me tear you apart with nothing but my mouth?” he whispered, leaning down to trace your jaw with his lips.

You knew you should say no. You knew it. He was an asshole and nothing good would come of it. But when his lips hit that one spot on your neck that had you gasping you knew you couldn’t say no.

“You acted like you didn’t know me earlier and now you want to go down on me? What’s your game here?,” you groaned, trying your hardest not to give in.

“I told you, I wanted to see how sexy you look when you're angry and now I want to see if you're as sweet as you look, princess,” he murmured against your neck before sinking his teeth in and sucking a bruise.

That’s when you lost your control, your mind taking a back seat. “Deal,” you whimpered, feeling Ransom’s lips curl into a smile before he dropped to his knees in front of you.

His hand ghosted up your thighs, pulling your dress up along the way. Ransom lifted one of your legs to rest over his shoulder, kissing and nibbling along your thigh to where you were aching for him. You couldn’t help the loud moan that came out when he licked a stripe over your panties. Ransom pulled away at that looking up at you with a smirk.

“Maybe this will keep you quiet,” reaching up he shoved your panties into your mouth and you couldn’t help but let out a muffled whimper at how filthy your night had gotten. “You can take them home with you after,” he winked at you before burying his head between your thighs.

From then on Ransom became a somewhat permanent feature in your life. You were with each other nearly every weekend and some week nights. Each time he called, you let him in. You never went to his house though. He always came to you. Made it easier for him to leave before you woke up. You kept telling yourself you only wanted him for the sex, which as much as you hated to admit, was the best you’d ever had. But you could feel it. You could feel yourself falling for this trust fund prick and you didn’t know how to stop it. He was different when he was alone with you. He had a sense of humour you didn’t expect and a gentleness at times that had you swooning.

It wasn’t until you saw him in a bar with his tongue down another woman’s throat that reality slapped you in the face. You couldn’t even mask your hurt when he caught your eyes across the room. You flipped him off and left before giving him the chance to explain, secretly hoping he would follow you. Of course he didn’t. That’s not his style.

So, you called it off.

That was three months ago and Ransom was still coming to your apartment most weekends. He showed up one night with flowers and apologies, promising that he would be more honest going forward if he was seeing anyone else and right now he wasn’t - as if that would make it better - and despite your mind screaming at you not to let him back in, you didn’t listen. So your nights went back to how they used to be, the both of you panting and sweaty, tangled up in your sheets trying to catch your breath. His arms wound tightly around you as he smoothed your hair and murmured pretty words in your ear, lulling you to sleep.

“You’re so gorgeous, princess.”

“Sweetest thing I’ve ever seen.”

“Just let me hold you for a bit.”

Every time you woke up alone. And every time you said it was the last time.

There was one night that you thought things were changing. You’d had such an awful day, it was the first time you considered not responding when he text. But instead you just told him you weren’t in the mood. Twenty minutes later there was a knock at your door and to your surprise you found Ransom and a bottle of your favourite wine. You both sat up on your couch, drinking and talking about everything. You told him all about your family out west and how much you missed them. He told you about his family and how fucked up they were - lets be honest, it explained a lot! It was the first time you’d seen him so vulnerable and it made your heart ache.

Maybe it was the wine, or maybe it was the new side to Ransom that had you blurting out the words that you’d only thought to yourself. I think I’m falling for you.

Ransom just stared at you for a beat, your own heart pounding inside of your chest, eye widening as you realised your admission.

“Princess, you know that’s not what this is right? You’re great, one of the best fucks I’ve had in a while, but I don’t do the whole feelings thing,” he stated, standing up and grabbing his jacket off the back of the couch.

You sat there stunned, trying so hard to keep your tears in, a mixture of anger and sadness and disappointment building up inside of you. No, you refused to cry in front of him. You took a deep breath and stood up. Heading towards the door and opening it, gesturing from him to leave, “well I think you should go then. I’m sure one of your other fucks would be willing to have you,” you spat.

Ransom stared at you for a second, a look you couldn’t quite figure out on his face before he walked past you into the hall.

“We’re done. I’m done. I don’t want to see you again,” you said, willing your voice not to crack.

To your surprise he laughed, “sure princess. I’ll see you next time.” And then he was gone.

You stood with the door open in shock. That smug, trust fund prick! You couldn’t help the bubble of manic laughter that came out of you as you slammed the door and headed for the last of the wine.

Never seeing him again lasted a whole two weeks. You hated how weak he made you, how much you thought he would change, how easily his whispered words affected you, how easy you believed him when he said he was sorry. You’ve always been hurt by your own expectations and Ransom was no exception.

This had to be over. You couldn’t take any more of this and you knew just the way to say goodbye.

You shouldn’t be here. You know you shouldn’t be here. But you still find yourself standing, nearly swaying thanks to the bottle of wine that led you here, outside the door of the man who’s torn your heart to pieces time and time again.

But this time is different. This time you were making the first move and this time it was going to be the last.

The surprise on his face when he opened the door had you giggling.

Quickly wiping the shock from his face, Ransom leant against the doorframe, jeans low on his hips and shirtless. His arms crossed over his chest causing his biceps to bulge. Damn, this would be easier if he didn’t look so good.

He smirked down at you, “What happened to it being the last time, princess?”

You took a deep breath, ignoring the way he was trying to push your buttons, “Thought I’d get the jump on ya since it is always you calling me,” you shrugged, shoving past him and almost stumbling before he caught you and turned you so you were face to face.

"You've been drinking.” It wasn’t a question.

"And your point is?" You countered, letting your hands trail from his chest to his belt.

"We both know how this ends, princess. You’re gonna get hurt," Ransom sighs, holding your hands still.

"You've hurt me a thousand times before, what's one more?” you shrug, pulling him closer so your chests collide. Leaning up to whisper in his ear, “call it a parting gift. I missed you so hurt me one last time, Ransom." Leaning forward you nibble on his ear before moving slowly down his neck when he makes no move to stop you.

“Oh princess,” he all but growls. Grasping your jaw between his fingers and squeezing slightly as he pulls you back to look in your eyes. “You really think this will be the last time?”

You do your best to suppress the whimper that’s bubbling up as you refuse to look away.

“I’ve lost count of all the times you’ve said that. Admit it, your pussy misses me too much. You always come crawling back, like the little slut you are,” he smirks.

It takes all your strength not to slap his stupid, pretty face. Your eyes narrow in defiance. You won’t let him win this. “Why don’t you give me something worth missing then?”

His lips crash onto yours with such force you’re convinced you would have fell if it wasn’t for Ransom’s arm winding tightly around your waist. You moan as his tongue slips past your lips and his hand tangles in your hair, keeping you where he wants you.

Your hands grasp his belt again, rushing to get it undone and push his jeans past his hips. His hands grab the hem of your dress, lifting it off your body before crashing his lips onto yours again. You wind your hands into his hair and give a sharp tug, smirking at the groan he lets out.

“Jump,” Ransom mutters against your lips, tapping the back of your thighs. You do so without hesitation, winding your legs around his waist as his lips trail from your mouth across your jaw, down your neck and back up to your lips.

You’re so lost in the heat and desperation of his kisses that you don’t realise you’re in a different room until Ransom drops you on his bed. You can see the outline of his cock through his boxers and it makes your mouth water.

Moving to your knees you crawl towards the end of the bed, making sure to wiggle your ass as you do. You don’t miss the way Ransom’s eyes darken as he watches your every move. Keeping your eyes on him you lay on your stomach in front of him, toying with the waistband of his boxers, mouthing at his hard cock. Ransom’s hand comes up to stroke your hair.

“Can I suck your cock, daddy?” you ask, pouting up at him with your most innocent look.

The way his jaw ticks has your panties flooding with arousal. “You know I can’t say no to that mouth of yours, princess. Now put it to good use like the good little slut you are.”

You waste no time releasing him from the confines of his boxers. Grasping him tightly at the base you start with kitten licks to the tip. Revelling in the groans coming from the man above you. Making eye contact with him you shoot him a wink before wrapping your lips around him, pushing your head down until you can feel him at the back of your throat. You hollow your cheeks and pull back, making sure to swirl your tongue over the head.

“Fuck,” Ransom groans, fists tightening in your hair, “you gonna be a good girl and let daddy fuck your mouth, princess?”

You nod your head as best you can, placing your hands on his thick thighs as you look up at him, silently giving him permission.

“Gonna be the death of me, god damn,” Ransom murmurs before thrusting further into your mouth. You try your best to suppress your gag reflex but taking Ransom is no easy feat. Ransom sets a slow pace to start, letting you get used to it. You hum around him and he quickens his movements. It doesn’t take long for you to become a gagging, drooling mess around him as tears slip from your eyes.

“Shit, ah, taking me so well princess. Look at you, all sloppy and crying for me,” Ransom grunts, caressing the side of your face for a moment before leaning over you, forcing his cock further down your throat. You sputter around him and focus on breathing through your nose. Letting out a squeak when you feel a palm crack down on one of your ass cheeks.

Ransom pulls back, pulling your mouth off his cock in the process before he’s crashing his lips onto yours. It’s a clash of teeth and tongue as Ransom pulls you to sit up on your knees.

“Look at you,” he chuckles, wiping the stray tears from your cheeks, “took me so well. My perfect little slut.”

You can’t help the way your heart clenches, because you’re not his and you never will be. You know it's wrong. You know you should have stayed away. You know it's going to hurt. But for once, just this once, you wanted to be the one to walk away. You wanted this to be your decision. Because it hurts more when you have to wake up alone every time. Wondering if you should have done more. If you should have hidden parts of yourself. Been more.

“Turn around baby, hands and knees. Let me see that perfect ass.”

You shake the thoughts from your head as you do as he asks. Wiggling your ass against him when you’re in position which earns you a hard spank. You moan unabashedly, revelling in the sting and heat you can feel. Ransom’s palm comes down several more times before he’s gripping your cheeks roughly and spreading them.

“I can see how wet you are. Is this all for me,” he taunts, rubbing his fingers across your clothed core.

“Yes daddy, all for you,” you mewl, pushing back on his fingers, “please fuck me.”

“Fuck,” he spanks you again before tearing your panties off you, “since you asked so nicely princess.”

Without warning he pushes the head of his cock into your soaking entrance. Both of you groaning at the pleasure that ripples through your bodies. Ransom gives you a second to adjust before giving a tentative thrust. You moan, pushing back, needing more.

“You ready baby? Hands behind your back for me. Good girl.”

Ransom grabs hold of your hands in a tight grip behind your back before setting a punishing pace that has your back arching further. All you can hear are the loud slaps of his hips hitting your ass and your growing moans. You whimper when he stops.

“Fuck youself on my cock princess. Show daddy how much of a good girl you are,” Ransom grunts, letting go of your arms and grasping your hair to pull your head back.

Pushing yourself up on your arms you push back, grinding your hips over his cock.

“That’s it, so fucking gorgeous. Taking my cock so well,” Ransom chokes out, smacking both ass cheeks in quick succession before spreading your cheeks again. You feel his thumb brush over your tight hole and your hips stutter, earning a throaty chuckle from Ransom, “can’t wait to try this tight ass of yours one day princess but I won’t last today if I get in there. Pussy’s already gripping me like a vice, shit!”

You can’t help the slight smirk that graces your face. Knowing that he’ll never get the chance. Knowing that after taking everything else from you he’ll never have that. It’s not much but it’s a small victory.

Ransom grips your hips tightly, halting your movements before he’s driving into you repeatedly. Reaching the spot that has your eyes rolling to the back of your head and your toes curling.

“Shit, you’re so fucking tight. You close baby? Want daddy to make you come?” Ransom pulls you up so your back is against his chest. One of his hands wraps around your throat, squeezing slightly, causing you to moan loudly.

“Please, please I’m so close. Please make me come daddy,” you beg.

“I’ve got you princess, let go for me,” Ransom whispers against your neck before sucking a bruise there, his free hand sliding down your stomach to your clit, rubbing harsh circles over it that has your hips stuttering. The pleasure ripples through you like a tidal wave. Soft curses leaving your lips as your body ignites, sagging back against Ransom as he continues to push his hips into you. Groaning as you pulse around him.

“Such a good girl for me, shit, ah ‘m gonna come baby. Gonna fill you up like the good little slut you are,” Ransom whispers praises as his hips come to a stop against your ass and you feel the warmth of his release fill you.

Your sweaty bodies remain entwined as he leans you down so you're laid on your stomach, Ransom’s chest plastered against your back.

“Fuck, princess,” Ransom pants, “that was something else. You really pulled out all the stops,” he chuckled.

It was wrong, so wrong. And it hurts so much. But this time it's on your terms. This time he has to watch you leave.

You start to shift underneath him and he gets the hint to move, you whimper as he pulls out of you. Feeling the sticky mess of both your releases between your thighs. You close your eyes and take a deep breath to steady yourself. You need to leave. The longer you stay the more you risk losing your nerve.

“Hey, so I was thinking, if you wanted to stay the night that would be cool…” Ransom murmurs.

You bite back a sob, reminding yourself that this changes nothing. He’s eight months too late. Moving off the bed you start grabbing your clothes from around the room. Changing as quickly as you could and avoiding his gaze. One look in those blue eyes that were usually so cold, but held a softness for you that made you weak at the knees and you’d be back a square one.

"I meant what I said Ransom,” you sniffled, “we’re done. I can’t do this anymore.”

Picking up your things and your remaining dignity you walked towards the door, sneaking a look at Ransom who hadn’t moved off the bed, his eyes looked glassy. “I hope you find someone that’s worth having feelings for but I can’t keep pretending that person is me," you whispered, “goodbye Ransom.”

Read part 2 here

Thank you so much for reading!! I really hope you enjoyed this 💕 as always comments and reblogs are so appreciated and I'll love you forever 💕

[blushled]

Love | Dallas Winston

MASTERLIST

other Tumblr: sunkissedspidey

taglist is open!

requests are open!

pairing: Dallas Winston x female!reader

summary: Your relationship with Dally was always weird, you weren’t dating and you definitely weren't just friends. But after he almost loses you, he realizes just how much he needs you.

warnings: smut, unprotected sex (please wrap it before you tap it), language, angst, fluff, etc.

word count: 3.7k+

a/n: Please forgive me for how gross and choppy this is! This is the first thing I’ve written in months!! Sorry for any spelling and/or grammar errors!

Your relationship with Dally had always been a little weird. Not by much, but definitely compared to the other guys.

You were the only chick in the group, and everyone in it had a phase at some point where they were completely enamored with you, all expect for Darry, mostly because he saw you as a little sister. But it was always special with Dally.

You had met Dally, and the rest of the guys, when you were 15, right after he had gotten back to Oklahoma from New York. You two were always close, and you were the only person he had ever opened up to, so it's no wonder that you two had lost your virginities to each other, and still have casual sex to this day. The both of you had an unspoken agreement to not tell anyone, but Soda had walked in on the two of you one time, so now it was only you three that knew the secret.

Anyways, regardless of the hours upon hours of sex that was shared between you at least once a day, your relationship was closer than anyone else in the group, even stronger than yours and Soda's, despite the fact that the two of you had been best friends since second grade.

You never really cared about the fact that Dally was sleeping with other people. I mean, it's not like you weren't doing the same thing. You'd had sex with Dally, then Soda one night after you had both gotten absolutely hammered beyond belief, and even Peter Torlini from school a few times. But it always was better with Dally. Not just because he was amazing in bed, but because you were positive that you were head over heels in love with him. And, goddamn, if he didn't feel the same way, he was amazing at faking it. Like, you don't always have that sort of connection with someone when you have sex. Your bodies became one, and you knew exactly what the other needed at that exact moment. Who knows... maybe he was just good in bed and knew what you needed because you had been having sex for so long, or maybe... just maybe; he felt the same way for you that you did for him.

***

"Fuck, Dally! Oh, my god!" You moaned out, his cock so deep inside of you that it had your head spinning.

"Goddamn," He breathed out, his face close to yours, same with the rest of his body, as he pumped into you at a fast, steady pace, a slight sheen of sweat covering both of your trembling, naked bodies. "You're so fucking good and tight for me. 'M not gonna last much longer, Y/N." He groaned out, his breathing heavy, along with yours, as he thrusted even deeper. He wrapped his arms underneath your head, tugging on your hair as you scratched down his back.

"God, please cum for me, Dallas." You moaned, his pace quickening even more so, leaving you screaming as your eyes squeezed shut tightly, your orgasm crashing over you, your walls clenching so tightly around his cock that he couldn't help but cum, quickly pulling out and helplessly spilling his seed all over your stomach as he let out load, drawn out moans, before his muscles gave out and he collapsed back on top of you.

Your hands ran into his hair as he gave you another hot, passionate kiss before rolling over next to you on your bed, reaching over onto the night stand to grab two smokes and a lighter, passing one to you before lighting both of them up, as you both smoked, and exhaled, simultaneously, your brains started to feel foggy with euphoria as the nicotine began to enter your bloodstreams at the same time.

***

A few weeks later, you and the rest of the guys were sitting around, just talking about nothing in particular, only until Two-Bit brought up a fun topic.

"I got it!" He said, a large smirk on his face. "Best lay... Aaand... Steve, go!" Pointing at the brunette with both hands shaped as guns.

"Uhm... Probably Gracie. Big tits." He laughed out, a smoke in between his teeth.

Everyone erupted with laughter, Ponyboy and Johnny rolling their eyes and turning their attention to the cartoons on the small television.

"Y/N! Your turn!" Two-Bit said, laughing as he took a sip of his third beer.

"Not telling." You laughed as you sat on the countertop. You rolled your eyes heavily and let out an annoyed sigh as everyone booed at you. "Ugh, fine," You said, closing your eyes. "Uhm, I'm not saying the name, but he was tall with brown eyes, massive dick, and goddamn, he knew how to use it well, dark hair, and also the best kisser I've ever met before."

    Dally automatically knew that you were talking about it, a smirk spreading across his face as you enthused about just how good the "mystery man" was in bed.

*** You and Dally sat in your old, run down car, eating Dairy Queen and talking about nothing in particular.

"You wanna know something funny?" He asked before licking the melting ice cream off of his waffle cone.

"Always." You smirked, turning the music playing on the radio down a bit so you could hear him more clearly.

"You're the best I've ever had, too." He said, smirking as your cheeks lit up a bright pink shade at his words.

"And why's that, Mister Winston?" You laughed, your eyes meeting his again as he leaned in closer to you, using his free hand to circle around your clit over your underwear, your skirt covering Dally's hand from the wrist down, your eyes slowly rolling back as you moaned quietly into his mouth.

"That's just one of the reasons. You're so goddamn sensitive and I fucking love it." He laughed when you whined after his touched left you, a small huff of anger leaving your lips at the loss of contact.

After a few seconds, you grabbed his ice cream and shoved it in an empty cup, his eyes meeting your with confusion before you moved over the center console to straddle him, your lips immediately going to his as you grinder your hips together, small groans leaving both of your mouths. You tugged at his leather belt, unbuttoning his jeans after, sliding his boxers down, your mouth watering at the sight of his hard cock.

    He reached around your waist and lifted your tight shirt off of you quickly, his soft lips moving to kiss all over your breasts and he left the occasional hickey, his cool, slender fingers i clipping your bra, before he started kissing up and down your neck until you were begging for more.

    "Dally, please." You whimpered, your body trembling from want.

    He moved your underwear over to the side, right before his cock slammed into you as he pulled your hips flush against his, both of you letting out moans because of how fucking amazing it felt.

"Fuck, Dally! Shit, you feel so fucking good!" You screamed out, glad that it was night and that no one was around the two of you.

"Goddamn, you're so fucking tight-" He said before a groan cut him off, his hands gripping your waist even tighter, bruises sure to be left there (not that you were complaining in the slightest).

    One of his hands moved down to your clit, rubbing it in harsh, fast circles as his eyes rolled back, your head dipping down to suck dark purple bruises onto the soft, pale skin of his neck, his hips thrusting up to meet yours in sync, his cock hitting inside of you deeper and deeper with each thrust, the other of you chasing yourself highs as best as you could.

    Your eyes clenched shut tightly as you bit down on muscles of his shoulder, your orgasm crashing over you so strongly that you could barley breathe. Dally's arms wrapped around you, scratching up and down your back and you tugged harshly at his hair, knowing that he was coming close.

    "Cum for me." You whispered into his ear, biting down slightly on his earlobe, and then that was it. He came with a cry of your name and a load groan, his cum coating your walls as you clenched around him tighter, his teeth sinking into your breasts as he continued to thrust up into you until his muscles gave out. Your collective breathing was heavy as you both came down from your highs, his hair sweaty as you ran your fingers through it, the smell of sex and cigarettes lingering in the small, cramped car.

    "Goddamn," He said, laughing as you sat back, moving your hair out of your eyes. "That was fucking amazing."

    "Isn't it always?" You smiled cockily, grinding your hips once more, causing another load moan to come from Dally's throat, partially because it felt amazing and partially because he was so fucking sensitive.

    "What'd I turn you into?" He smirked, biting down on the skin of your neck softly, his perfect teeth skimming your jaw as he made eye contact with you again.

    "A sex addict." You said simply, a smile breaking across your face as Dally started laughing at your blatant tone, his head tipping up to kiss you softly and slowly.

    The two of you had made an agreement not to do anything with anyone else after a while, figuring that it would save the both of you from getting jealous because, even though you weren't official, the both of you were super mad every time you walked in on the other with a different person.

*** "Oh my god, fuck off!" You yelled, laughing as Soda had beaten you in poker for the fifth time that night, the rest of the guys whooping and cheering as you flipped them all of, taking your shirt off, a black bra the only thing covering your chest. Strip poker was a weird game to play with a big group of your closest friends, but it had been a favorite of everyone's for years. Dally stood in the corner, a cigarette in between his teeth as he stared you down, his eyes dark with oust and squinted with anger.

"Alright," You said, standing up and putting your shirt back on, boos coming from the guys. "I think that's enough for me tonight."

You made your way to the bathroom of the Curtis' house, putting your hair up in a ponytail before you washed the dark eyeliner surrounding your eyes off, using a rag to dry your face before changing into an extra t-shirt and pajama shorts that you always kept there, since everyone usually spent the night there.

You walked out into the dark hallway, making your way to the living room before Dally pushed you up against one of the walls, his lips meeting yours harshly as one of his hands made its way into your loose shorts, his long, slender figures toying with your clit as you tried your best to control the volume of your moans.

"Never, fucking never, pull that shit again. You got that? You know how fucking hot you are, and you know how those dudes think about you." He said, his voice low and commanding, but a tone of sweetness underlying in it.

You knew that he wasn't mad, he was just worried, even though there's no way in hell that he would ever admit that to anyone. He was your best friend, and you were his.

*** "Oh, come on, Dally. It's not even that bad. It's just a movie." You whined, gripping onto his denim jacket.

"It's a stupid movie." He laughed as your head sunk even lower, your lower lip stick out as you widened your eyes, your face jokingly pleading.

    "Dallyyy, pleaseee?" You dragged out, kissing his neck softly.

    "Fine. But if I hate it, it's on you." He laughed as you squealed, leaning over and kissing his cheek. And after a second you both looked at each other and then moved away, realizing that you were acting more like a couple than like fuck buddies.

    "I'm- uh- I'm gonna go home. Gotta get ready, ya know?" You said, standing up from the couch at Dally and Buck's place, grabbing your purse and jacket, and waving goodbye to the brunette that had your heart.

***

    As you made you way back over to Dally's, you checked how you looked in the reflection of a storefront window. Your tight white t-shirt clung to your body perfectly, your black ripped jeans hugged your frame, and you had on your favorite jacket. A thick, worn, black leather one that all of the guys had gotten you for your birthday after they had pooled their money together, a switchblade, a pack of smokes, and a lighter in one of the pockets. Your black eyeshadow and eyeliner was done perfectly, and was an amazing contrast to your bright red lipstick.

    "Dally!" You smiled, wrapping him in a small, short hug when we opened his door, throwing a shirt on and leading you down the street towards the drive in.

***

    "I'm gonna go get some popcorn." You said to Dally, smiling as you stood up from one of the cheap, grey folding chairs.

    "Be careful." He said, handing you some money before turning his attention to the movie that he claimed was stupid.

    "Medium popcorn and a large Coke with two straws, please." You said to the worker at the concessions stand, handing him the money in exchange for your food and drink.

    You walked out of the concessions stand, making your way back until some shuffling on the side of the building caught your attention. You turned your head, and the second you did, you instantly regretted it. You saw Dally making out with Polly Winchester, her hands running through his hair as he pinned her against a wall. His eyes met with your for a second and he instantly pulled away, his lips smeared with her red lipstick and his breathing hard.

    "Oh shit." He said quietly, walking over to you, trying to take your hands in his, put you instantly pulled away.

    "You fucking asshole." You said calmly, turning away towards the exit before he grabbed your arm, and then you snapped. "Don't fucking touch me!" You screamed, the people sitting near you turning to look at the two of you.

    "Y/N, I'm sorry." He said, trying his best to reach out for you agin until you took the top off of your drink and threw it in his face.

    "Fuck. You." You said clearly, finally being able to turn and walk away, tears filling your eyes as you walked back to your house.

***

    A few days later, practically in the middle of the night, you were sitting on your bed, a cigarette in one of your hands as you used the other to flip through your favorite book, music softly playing on your record player in the background as you tried your best to ignore the ache in your heart at the fact that Dally was practically fucking a chick against a wall right in front of you.

    A knock on your front door shook you out of your daze, ashing your cigarette before making your way down the hall to your front door. The second you opened it, your heart sank, your stomach dropping as you saw Dallas standing there, a pleading look on his face.

    "C-can I come in?" He asked quietly, his hands stuffed into his pocket.

    You didn't say anything, you just opened your door more and stepped to the side, allowing him to walk into your small house.

    "What do you want? Another pack of smokes? I have some on the counter and a Coke in the fridge and then you can go back to the drive in so that you don't have to pay." You said blankly, sitting down on your couch as flipping through a book that was on your coffee table.

    "No, I don't need any of that. I just wanna talk." He said, standing next to the couch awkwardly.

    "About what? About how you basically fucked Polly during a movie that we were supposed to be watching together? About how you ditched me to go stick your dick in some whore on the side of a goddamn building?!" You said, not being able to control your volume as you stood up looking at him, absolutely fuming.

    "Yeah, pretty much." He answered, not knowing what else to say.

    "You promised me, Dally. You fucking promised." You said, your eyes boring into his.

    "I know, but listen-" He tried to say before you cut him off.

    "No, Dally. You listen to me. You are such a lying fucking asshole! I can't believe I ever thought that we could be something other than friends with benefits." You said, your eyes becoming puffy. "Fuck you, Dallas Winston. I never want to see you again." You said calmly through your teeth, silently seething. You turned towards the hallway to go into your room, before Dally grabbed your arm, your eyes meeting his again, both of your eyes red as silent tear streamed down your faces simultaneously.

    "Please, Y/N." He said, his voice not much louder than a whisper. "Please don't leave me."

    "You've never listened to me when I've asked you not to leave... Why should I listen to you?" You asked quietly.

    "Because I love you, Y/N. More than I've ever loved anything in my entire life. More than smokes and parties and beer. More than sleep and sex and rumbles. So please, Y/N... Please don't leave. And I'm so fucking sorry. I'm so, so sorry."

    "I love you too, Dally. So much more than you'll ever be able to know."

    At this point, his hands were tangled in yours, your faces close together as you both finally admitted your true feeling for one another after all of this time.

    "You do?" He asked, shock evident in his voice. "You love me?"

    "Of course I love you, Dally. I've loved you ever since we were kids." You whispered, your lips only inches apart.

    "Can I kiss you?" He asks softly, his hands going slowly and tenderly up to your neck.

    "Please."

    And with that, you lips met in the most perfect kiss you could ever think of, like your lips were pieces of a puzzle and were made to fit perfectly together. After a few minutes it grew more passionate, more lust filled.

    His hands went down to the back of your thighs, gripping them tightly as you jumped up to wrap your legs around his waist. The two of you continued kissing as he walked the both of you to your room. He placed you softly on your bed, kissing down your body as he lifted an oversized white t-shirt, that just so happened to be his, over your head. He kissed all over your chest and your neck, only stopping for a few seconds to shed off his leather jacket and black shirt, before immediately going back to your lips to kiss you as you moaned into each others mouths while your hips grinned against each other's.

    "Dally, please." You moaned, your hands smoothing over his back.

    "Please what?" He asked, looking at your with swollen red lips, a beautiful contrast to his pale skin.

    "Make love to me." You whispered, your lips close to each others until he closed the distance between your mouths.

    He kissed down your neck, chest, and stomach again as he pulled your shorts off of you, moving to kiss your inner thighs as you whined from the feeling that you missed.

    He stood up again to unbuckle his belt, taking his pants off not shortly after. You pulled him back on top of you, reveling in the feeling of his bare skin against yours. He took his length in is hands, lining it up with your entrance before stopping for a few seconds to stare deeply into his big brown eyes.

    "I love you." He whispered.

    "I love you too." You replied before you met your lips with his again.

    The second he thrusted slowly inside of you, you both let out moans at the amazing feeling. he started with a slow, tender pace as you breathed heavily into each others mouths, your eyes still staring into the others.

    "Oh my god." You moaned out, eyes finally shutting tightly as he continued to pump into you, his pace quickening as his groans started to grow louder and loader, along with your moans.

    "Fuck, I love you so-" He said, getting cut off as he groaned loudly. "I love you so much."

    "I love you too, Dally- Fuck!" You screamed, the feeling of him being inside of you so goddamn intense that you could barely speak coherently.

    And then it made sense. Every feeling that you had ever had for him made so much sense. Every time that he would look at you and smile at the completely ordinary thing you were doing, every time that he told you to call him when you got home, every time that his figures brushed against yours while watching a movie made sense. He had loved you even longer that you had loved him. From the second your eyes met his when you met, he was absolutely head over heels in love with you. He had never realized how much he needed to tell you until he almost lost you, until he realized how much he needs you.

    "Dally, I'm not gonna last much longer." You moaned, lips moving to kiss the sides of his clan shaven face and his smooth forehead.

    "N-neither am I. Fuck, please cum for me, Y/N. Please. God, I love you." He moaned before his head dipped down to meet your lips with his.

    And with a few more thrusts, you were completely spiraling underneath him, your whole body trembling as you came at this same time, his final few thrusts harder and deeper than before until he finally collapsed on top of you, his lips going to kiss your red cheeks as you both breathed heavily.

    "I love you so much. Please be mine, Y/N. Please." He said, his lips skimming yours.

    "I love you more, Dally. And I'll be yours, forever and ever and ever." And with that, you both fell asleep, all sweaty and gross. But you were sweaty and gross and happier than you had ever been before.

[angeli-marco-writes]

Harry Holland - Polaroids

A/N & WC - I do not know Harry or the other people mentioned in this fic, nor do I claim to; this is a work of fiction. 3.9k.

Warnings - Swearing, mention of food, smut: depictions of oral (m+f rec), penetrative sex, use of toys, bondage & bdsm, photos being taken in the act, mild exhibitionism and definite voyeurism (not Harry or reader) 18+.

Summary - You and Harry have an exciting intimate life to say the least, and he rather enjoys taking photos of the two of you in compromising positions. However, in his sex-addled mind, one vital fact is let slip when he allows Sam into his room unsupervised.

“BUD, WHERE ARE THOSE PHOTOS you took of my food the other day?” Sam asks.

The sizzling of pancakes overlaps the conversation, and you mussing up Harry’s hair distracts him, his attention drawn to more important matters than his brother. Harry barely swallows his giant mouthful of food before speaking.

“By my bed there’s a huge pile, they’ll be somewhere,” he answers flippantly.

Flippantly.

Usually so cautious and so organised Harry lets one thing slip his mind for five seconds, and his life is going to fall through the cracks. His reputation will be utterly destroyed. Just with his brother, but it still stands. Sam is… more innocent than Harry has ever been. And Sam will also tell the others, and likely their friends…

“Remembered something, baby?” you muse sardonically from beside him, your hand halting its movements as you cup his jaw, turning him to face you.

The second his green eyes meet yours, you watch the world crumble in his eyes. You’ve never seen him scramble up from his seat so quickly. His bare feet slap on the tiled floor violently, thudding sounds echoing through the house as he blunders around, swinging around the banister with the force and elegance of an elephant.

“Sam! FUCK— Wait!”

“Don’t look in that pile of photos,” you add in a feeble shout.

It’s not like what Sam’ll find there is any secret. You’ve been together a long time, you and Harry, and everyone knows full well that you’re shagging, but that doesn’t mean you necessarily want them to know exactly what happens in the bedroom, in your most intimate, secret moments together. That’s sacred, even if it seems like sacrilege to so many.

No matter how quickly you hear Harry legging it upstairs, his lean legs carrying him up the stairs perhaps three at a time, his curly hair even more unruly than before from the exertion, you know he won’t be fast enough, and that Sam is an insolent bastard when he wants to be. You’ve lived with them all long enough and have had more than your fair share of near misses: no chance will you not be found out, this time you’ll be caught. Better than the alternative and the other times, you suppose, as you cram one more syrup-drizzled and strawberry-covered pancake into your gob, reluctantly trudging your way upstairs to the hive of fun.

It’s chaos by the time you get there. Dozens of artfully-taken photos spilled out onto your duvet, Harry’s freckled face paler than you’ve ever seen it, his hands tugging at his pyjama shirt convulsively while Sam stands on the other side of the room, his dark eyes wide, his expression agog, his jaw unhinged, staring blankly and pointing at whatever the most incriminating thing is he sees next. You just hope he doesn’t go ferreting through your drawers, because then you’ll really be in trouble.

“What… the fuck.”

You come up to Harry’s side, and wrap an arm around his slim waist, lending a weak, “Surprise?”

It’s their fault if they haven’t guessed, frankly.

You can’t draw your eyes away from the pictures, so many of them, all displaying different aspects of your sex life at varying degrees of explicitness. You can even recount the minutes and hours of pleasure that led to the photos, each occasion etched into your mind. Sure, you and Harry go at it a lot, but you don’t always go the extra mile, hence why these commemorative photos of your special nights are so treasured. And private. Or, were.

The first one… oh boy, that takes you back to the most far-out, extreme experiment you tried—the most recent, as well: just this past weekend. You’re still covered in rope burn from it, though that could’ve been prevented if you hadn’t writhed or wriggled about so much while in those bonds. The amount of attempts it took, the sheer number of YouTube tutorials you had to watch, but it was definitely worth it. The intricate patterns the ropes formed all across your body, creating braids down your back, suspending you prone with little movement in your arms or legs. It was heaven to have Harry tugging on the ropes, contorting you into new and wonderful positions for his own delightful access to all of you. Perhaps it’s not something you’ll gravitate towards again, but it was fun while it lasted, and it’s another thing to tick off your list of fun, kinky bedroom experiments to try. To be fair, even though the swathes of soft, rose-coloured rope, intricately woven around you were a lot, you certainly wouldn’t be averse to trying something else with rope. Less shibari, perhaps just normal levels of bondage. You can feel the skin on your arms prickling with heat: Harry feels it too, winding his fingers into yours, holding on tight as he struggles to suppress a smirk.

The next set is interesting, and rather common. Harry’s freckled, ring-less hand is unmistakable in the dappled light as it grapples with the handle of a leather whip, or a paddle, even his belt, bringing them down harshly onto your ass cheeks, already reddened with hand prints, purple from bruises. In one of them, your skin is even glistening with his release, and another, your hands are suspended behind your back. Harry’s always been one for spanking, and the rest of them know it. Even before you were sleeping together he’d playfully smacked your bum, and he certainly hasn’t stopped even with the sexual connotations it now conveys between the two of you. As though he can read your mind, he snakes a hand down and pats you on the bum; his wink telling you it’s just for good measure. Cheeky shit.

One in the dead centre brings shivers throughout your body. Not because it wasn’t fun or pleasurable, but because of the way it made you feel afterwards. Yes, you’d talked through it in thorough details—as with everything the two of you do—how it made you feel going in, throughout, and you’d got a safe word sorted, but perhaps you hadn’t discussed all the long term risks of it. The pretty pink collar, the satin blindfold… The whole subservient thing is a big turn on for Harry, and you played into it, you always do and you naturally fall into a position of less power in your relationship because of the way you are, but being degraded in such a way isn’t for you. You can’t help but feel a sting of shame ricochet through your heart. Harry must feel it this considering how reactive he is: he leaps towards the bed and snatches it up, shredding it before your eyes, chucking it into the bin, and curling another protective arm around you.

“Look,” you whisper to Harry, turning his attention elsewhere as you point to the bottom few: your favourite photos of all.

Despite the disarray, they’re all together, and they remind you of an incredible night. Your anniversary, and what a special day it was. Butterflies swarm you at the sight of them again, but it feels strange for someone else to be looking at them. Not that you or Harry are exactly in a fit state to be proactive about preventative measures now Sam’s seen them all. His eyes bulge from his face, his mouth going dry as he swallows viciously, suddenly having to shift his already apparently tight shorts. Again.

“You’re so sexy in those, baby,” purrs Harry.

He’s damn right, you do look incredibly sexy. And though the first one in the chronological series is you mostly covered, you can remember how hard his dick was at the sight alone, salivating, clenching his fists to stop from ripping the lingerie from you piece by piece. You wanted to put on a show for him that day: who was he to deny you?

On top of your bra, panties and stockings was a nightgown, and above that, a dressing gown. Each image shows you in a further state of undress. It was a deep burgundy lace set of negligée with soft satin straps that pushed your boobs together, lifting them up, the lace hooked together with a single eyelet on your spine, whereas the panties, though half covering your cheeks with dustings of lace, hid nothing while they sat high on your hips, revealing your entire upper thigh where a matching satin garter sat with tiny lace bows. The entire thing cost a fortune. You forked out a damn arm and a leg for what you got, even with a discount included with a certain toy you bought.

First went the dressing gown, letting it fall from your shoulders, allowing it to pool around your feet as you showed off the skimpiness of the silk slip in a series of flourishing twirls, much to Harry’s delight. Next went the slip, and you honestly wish you’d taken a picture of his face utterly agog—as you stood there in stockings held up by garters, barely there panties and a push up bra. There’s one shot of his rough fingertips playing with the trim of the stockings delightedly, like a kid in a candy shop. Next went the feeble scrap of fabric that you dared to call a bra, barely covering your nipples, allowing your breasts free, spilling into Harry’s awaiting hand. You remember the next part vividly, because he was just about to peel the panties off when you laid a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“I’ve got a surprise for you, babe.” you cooed.

His twinkling eyes grew as wide as saucers, and you dared to card your fingers through his curls as you settled yourself over his lap, letting him keep his camera in one hand while leading the other down, down, a little further…

He’s never since made a sound quite like it, so visceral and animalistic, so ready to devour you, to come on sight. He’s never been as hard as he was in that instance.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he moaned, a deep groan released from him the second his fingers slipped through your folds to find dripping arousal all ready for him. “Just—wait a minute…”

You followed his every instruction for the next few moments, finding yourself standing up in a good lighting position, Harry strategically beneath you as he snapped a particularly incriminating (yet oh so sexy shot) of your bare pussy in crotchless panties. Harry’s never recovered. He’s already openly admitted that he uses those particular photos more than any others to get himself off whenever you’re away from him. However, the creases and folded corners of one particular photo can’t be blamed on him, since that’s the one you use when you're away, two of his fingers plunged knuckle-deep inside you in those exact panties, from that exact angle, desperately trying to replicate the irreplaceably pleasurable feeling of him within you. He took a good few more than had to be thrown away. Spillages are awfully unfortunate… He fucked you that night with the panties, stockings and garters still on. Twice. Then without the panties, then without the stockings, then nude at last at some ungodly hour of the morning when he took you at last as the sun rose. You didn’t sleep a wink.

There are more of you with lingerie on, nightgowns and matching sets, scraps of silk and strange one pieces that took you hours to get on, but they’re bound to make a sort of book, stowed away neatly (mercifully) beneath his bed.

Sam still hasn’t moved from his state of paralysed shock, and though you should probably clear the photos up from where they’re dumped, you feel a filthy swelling pride within your chest, a glean of risk as you watch Sam rove his eyes over some more, these all involving toys. If only he knew where you hid them. One his eyes focus on is you with a thick purple rubber dildo deep inside you, a rabbit vibrator stuck to your clit. Your body is but a blur, writhing around for Harry, your hands cuffed before you and not released no matter how much you moved. Harry wouldn’t let you stop coming for what felt like hours: it was the first time you squirted for him as a cry tore from your heaving chest, drenching the bed with your fifth orgasm of the night. Harry vowed he’d be the only one to make you squirt after that, no toys involved, and he’s stayed true to his word.

There’s a few more, and Sam seems to be furrowing his thick brows at the sight of the Polaroids. Glass wands, spreader bars, clit suctions (that admittedly look like they’d be used in a spa for a facial). Poor boy is being corrupted...

Good God, you need to get those toys out again.

With his twin's attention diverted, you snake your hand down the front of Baz’s shorts, wrapping your fingers around his already hard member through his boxers: he seems to be enjoying this as much as you are.

You point out one of your favourite pictures, a debauched mess that shouldn’t be viewed by anyone else, frankly. Harry was reluctant about hurting you or pushing you too far, but you begged to be gagged. You meant just by a tie, maybe his bandana—which features in many images in many different manners: as a bind for your hands, tying you to the bed, keeping your ankles together, even wrapped lightly around your neck, but never as a gag—but he went all out. When you got home, he was waiting in his room with a leather-bound ball gag.

“You begged, baby,” he said, and you couldn’t refute. You had begged, but this was above and beyond. You complied with his every wish that night, and though you’d do it again in a heartbeat, Harry wasn’t a fan of not being able to shove his fingers or cock down your throat at any given moment. He liked hearing your whines and moans and hushed curses, prayers of his name. He also liked hearing your bratty, belligerent rebuttals when he took on a dominant role. You enjoyed it more than a little, but only now can you see how much of a mess you were, messy hair and tears spouting from your eyes, drool down your chin...

Given the chance of the slightest spark of stimulation, you’ll be coming on the spot.

There’s a scattered pile of the two of you in just about every position under the sun, every shape in the karma sutra, fucking both inside and out, al fresco sex beneath the big oak in the garden, anyhow, anywhere and everywhere you could fuck safely and privately, you would, and you didn’t even realise Harry had snapped some of these shots after consenting to him taking them at any time. Your eyes squeezed shut as you peaked, Baz’s palm kneading your chest, your skirt hiked up around your stomach while your jaw was agape, your pussy exposed and glistening slick in the mirror, penetrated by Harry’s cock. That was a good day, mirror sex, and definitely something you’ll try again. This time with your own mirror... There are a few snapshots of oral, perfect Polaroids of Harry’s nose nuzzled into your pussy, his tongue deep in your core, his lips on your labia, all of them for your sake whenever he goes away.

“Gonna recreate that one tonight,” Harry husks, pointing towards one image in particular of you sucking him off.

His huge member down your throat, you’d trained yourself to breathe solely through your nose, but the neatly trimmed patch of hair there tickled your nostrils. Harry’s talent for photography reveals your doe eyes were red rimmed, saliva trickling from the corner of your mouth matching the mascara tracks down your cheeks. You’ve never looked so fucked out, and Harry couldn’t believe you remained in that innocent façade, rosy cheeks and a coy expression even with his dick rammed down your throat, making you gag.

However, the one you’d like to recreate is one he picks up on, surreptitiously moving a hand to your chest, his fingers hovering over your peaked nipple.

“Reckon we can go again the second Sam fucks off?”

“Yes,” he eagerly exhales.

You don’t blame him, especially not when both twins are staring at the same image of your tits, pushed together with Harry’s dick between them, fucking your chest despite the fact his come already painted your chest in hot white strips, a beautiful painting you’d always wish to frame. He certainly has an obsession with your boobs so there are a couple like that, his hands all over them, the tip of his member tapping them, but the debauched one is by far your favourite. Similarly, there’s one of you tied to the bed, completely spread eagle, his dick resting on your stomach while your belly is coated in his come once again.

It seems, however, that’s what snagged Sam’s attention and has his face a ghastly shade of grey because it's so pale, is the one photo Harry never wanted anyone to see. You leap and snatch it up in one fell swoop, and Harry draws you into a bear hug within his arms, kissing your temple affectionately in thanks as you stow it away for safekeeping. Though Harry naturally carries the more dominant title in your relationship, you always like to shake things up, hence why this photo (and a series of others he already has hidden) depict Harry as your submissive. You walked around as the picture perfect dominatrix in stilettos, carrying a whip while Harry lay there with his hands bound, a blindfold on in some photos (you took them so they’re not as great, but he still looks damn sexy) with a vibrating cock ring wrapped snugly around his girth. He’s never come so hard or so much after you finally removed it and cuffed his hands to the bedpost and began to ride him. You can still feel the warmth of him climaxing within you if you close your eyes and clench your thighs.

“I promise I’ll touch you later,” boy do you hope he sticks to that promise he whispers while nibbling on your earlobe, “but Sam’s coming out of his daze in 3... 2... 1...”

“OH MY GOD.”

“Okay, I didn’t see that coming,” he remarks breathily, hazel eyes wide as he pivots, met with two incredulous stares. Tom’s cry wakes Sam up right on cue.

“Harry! What the fuck?!” Sam demands, his voice a bellow, horror and disgust and... something unattainable just emanates from him. “Why do you have three porn mags worth of your girlfriend down here? That’s fucked, mate.”

“No it’s not. We just like to have photographic reminders of all our... sexcapades.”

Sam is, unsurprisingly, retching, now finally turning his head away from the pile without even bothering to pick up.

“This was cool until you called them sexcapades,” Tom chimes, smacking Harry upside the head as he swaggers over to the bed, fishing a few photos up before tossing them back down.

Sam's horrified attitude doesn’t seem to be spreading thankfully, but you and Harry are understandably rooted to the spot, stuck to the carpet, just biding your time until this is over. Then again, you can’t really tell, since no one is saying anything. You nor Harry want to be the ones to break the silence, though, and you can tell with the furtive and expressive stares you’re sharing that his anxiety is increasing the more people are seeing this.

Momentarily, you think someone may remark about your silent communication, your fixed glances and speechless conversation, but instead, Harrison comes up to you both, a sly smirk etched onto his pretty model face as he clasps a hand around one shoulder of yours and one of Harry’s.

“Harry Holland, you kinky fucker,” he praises.

You definitely feel a swell of pride at that. And the fact that Tom is trying desperately hard not to look at you while also trying to hide how flustered he is, somehow still abhorred by the sight. Harrison’s intrigue is palpable, gnawing on his lower lip as his lithe fingers trace you on the polaroid's, whereas Sam? He can’t decide whether to cry or scream. Harry huddles in closer and cuddles you, ensuring you feel every part of him, just how much he wants this lot to leave to finally have you at his mercy once more.

“So you two are shagging,” Tom observes.

You and Harry nod between kisses.

“Dangerously.”

You nod again, though this time a little reluctantly.

You expect Harry to nestle down with you again, but instead he detaches himself, unravelling his arms, and shoulders past Tom and Haz. He gives Sam a death glare as he piles up all the Polaroids and shoves them deep in a drawer for him to organise later, away from prying eyes and judgemental comments.

“Really, though?” Sam bursts out, flailing his arms before grasping Harry’s collar. “I thought you’d just handcuff her and give her a smack at most, very vanilla.”

As much as he tries to fight it, Harry’s face flushes bright red, leaving no visible distinction between his forehead and hairline. “I think those photos, erm, tell a different story.”

He rocks on the balls of his feet, tugging himself out of his brother's grasp, only to fall into another, saved by Harrison’s scowl at Tom.

“Can you lot bloody get out? Please? I’d like some alone time with my girlfriend after that sodding invasion.”

“If you’re having alone time, we’re leaving the house for a while,” Tom jokes, “how long?”

You smirk, striding over to meet Harry, eyes fixed on him as you press onto your tiptoes, wrapping your fingers around his shoulder before kissing his earlobe. He wilts into your touch.

“Two hours should be enough time. Scram.”

They do, gladly, and you slam the door shut as their scurrying footsteps down the stairs recede. Harry’s grip increases around your waist, a growl escaping him as he pushes you onto the bed. You gasp when your back hits the mattress, his lips instantly attacking your jaw.

“Which of those polaroid's do you wanna recreate first, baby?”

—

It’s hours later, and you're all around for your weekly dinner at the Holland house. You and Harry, having some ‘business’ to attend to before leaving the house, are the last to arrive, and Paddy, poor unfortunate Paddy, has the delightful job of letting you into the house.

“Sam asked me to give you this,” he says barely before you’ve entered the porch.

Harry’s face pales as he unravels the small piece of paper bundled into his hand by his younger brother, but you could swear all blood drains from him the second the words sink in.

‘You took them, you lost them, you collect them. What would mum and dad say, Harold?’

“Harry, what’s happening?”

“That utter wanker stole the polaroids as revenge for scarring him. He’s hidden them around the house. We have to find them before mum and dad go looking. You in for the ride?”

“Only if Haz can join us tonight,” you tease, and after calling a hello to Harry’s parents, you follow him around the house, detaching all the pinned photos.

Harry's learnt a solid lesson today: hide his damn Polaroids better from now on, away from the prying eyes of his bloody brothers. But, he thinks with a smirk, by no means will the two of you stop taking them.

[squishneedsahero]

Building Bonds

Awesomest of Them All 2.0

Part 3 of 13

Word Count: 1259

Batman x Batmom!Reader

You know what the bat family needs? Someone to pull them together and give them all the love they deserve. Who better to do that than you? An author rising to stardom in Gotham who catches the eye of a billionaire with your standoffish attitude at a huge social gathering. You are yourself and never pretend to be more or less than that. Plus you're the most stubborn person in the world, refusing to let good things go without reason.

This is a rewrite of my story Awesomest of Them All, I wanted to see how much I've improved over 3 years.

"You sure you want to take him with?" Bruce asks.

You look up from packing, "Yes Bruce, have you ever known me to not be sure of something?" You move out of your bedroom to sit on your couch next to Bruce.

He wraps his arms around your waist, "He can be quite the handful," as he speaks you lean against his chest.

"I know," you pause, "but we've been dating for over a year now, and I want to get to know Dick better."

Bruce sighs, "Alright, I'm going to head home and I'll let him know," he stands up and you do as well.

"I'll come pick him up tonight," you lead Bruce to the door of your apartment.

"I'll see you then," he leans in and kisses you before leaving.

"Hello Miss l/n," Alfred greets you at the door.

"Hi Alfred," you say shaking his hand because what else are you supposed to do when someone won't just call you y/n? As soon as you step inside you hear a shout.

"Y/n!" Dick exclaims running up to you and wrapping his arms around you in a hug.

"Hi Dick! Are you ready to go?"

"Almost," Dick releases you and goes to grab his bags.

When you stand up from hugging the boy you feel two arms wrap around your waist from behind you. "Hello you," You say turning around to face Bruce as he holds you tighter.

"Be safe," Bruce says before he kisses you and you kiss back, not as long as you'd like as you hear a gagging noise behind you.

You smirk and pull away from the kiss, "No promises, conventions can be quite dangerous," you release from the hug as you lay a hand dramatically across your forehead. You then turn to face Dick, "you ready now?"

"Yup!"

"Then let's go," You say going to help him carry his bags. You take the duffel bag from the eleven year old and throw it over your shoulder. "See You next week," you say kissing Bruce one last time.

"See ya," Dick says hugging Bruce then Alfred.

"Be good," Bruce says ruffling Dicks hair.

"Goodbye Master Dick," Alfred says hugging the boy back.

"Were driving?" Dick asks when he sees how packed your car is.

"Well I am, but yes we're driving," you reply to his question.

"Cool," Dick says, "we usually just fly to things, it's been a while since I've been on a road trip..." he trails off sounding slightly down.

"You get to be the D.j.," you say waving at the radio, trying to lighten the mood as you get what he's saying about the last time he'd been on a road trip, as it was probably last with his parents, the flying Graysons.

"Really?" Dick looks at the radio then back to you excitedly.

"Yup. We'll listen to whatever you want to," you say, smiling at him.

He turns on the radio and finds the aux cord and plugs it into his phone and hits shuffle. He's heard the weird music you listen too, a little bit of everything so he knows you won't judge his taste in music. He obviously still picks a playlist he thinks you'd approve of that is all Disney music since that's always a safe bet to play around adults when you're only 10.

The two of you bond during the long drive to Metropolis, singing along to all the classics such as Under the Sea and Hakuna Matata. The both of you share a joint hotel room for the night, Dick in his own room to be sure he's comfortable and knows he is free to have boundaries with you. The two of you go out to dinner at a fancy restaurant and bump into some reporter who apparently knows both Dick and Bruce relatively well.

The tall broad shouldered man introduces himself as Clark Kent and you introduce yourself just for Clark's girlfriend Lois to ask you for an interview while you're in town.

You're about to turn her down but Dick answers for you, saying he's sure you'd love too and he'd just go hang out with Clark for a while. It's a little odd but you go with it since Dick seems so excited about it. After talking for a while and setting up a time to meet they leave the restaurant to let you and Dick finish your dinner and desert before going back to the hotel.

The two of you walk into the convention center and Dick exclaims, "Woah! This is awesome!"

"Yeah, it is," you say following him where ever he went. You had let Dick pick the costumes so you were dressed as (Disney Princess) and him as (Quirky Sidekick), since today wasn't a day you had a panel for the third book of the series you were writing. "So, where to first?"

He shrugs, "I don't know," he keeps craning his neck to look around, "I've never been to one of these before."

You shake your head and tsk softly, "come on, I'll teach you how to enjoy a comicon kiddo," you gently take his hand and lead the way incognito over to the artists alley.

The main reason you gave Dick for being dressed up was so less people would recognize you since you really had blown up in popularity since releasing your first and second books and the third being released this year.

In the artists alley you both look at all the cool stickers and pins that they had made. You get lots of stuff since you could now afford to actually support the artists with more than a like and a follow.

As the two of you wander you come across someone who had drawn some merch for your series. Their art was amazing, catching the character's personalities perfectly. It's as you're talking with the artist about their different work that they suddenly recognize you as y/n l/n and not as just another fan.

You smile and laugh softly, this was the one reason you enjoyed being a public figure, so that you could make people's days in such a small way by just liking their art or smiling at them. Anyways, Dick is hungry so you hurry along since you know he won't complain as he's used to Bruce getting held up. Anyways you quickly get the artist's contact information and take a picture with them, letting them know they can share it that night once the con was over for the day.

After that you move on with Dick to find some junk food to eat and a couple panels to sit in on. Over all the two of you have an amazing week together, bonding over movies, music and food. You get interviewed by Lois who is just as confused as you are as to how Clark and Dick know each other. Then you have a fan panel yourself at the con, answering lots of fan's questions. Plus the fact that you finally found someone to be the official artist for your books.

With a week spent together you and Dick are closer than ever. The two of you hadn't been not close but without Bruce and Alfred not around to buffer your interactions you have closer to what you think a mother son relationship should be like. After that week spent together you head back home to Gotham, the two of you had had fun but it would be nice to get back to normal life once again.

[heyyyharry]

Porn

(a blurb from the My Girl Series)

…in which Harry and Y/N watch porn, but he won’t touch her.

Warning: smut (duh!)

AU: older!harry, actor!harry.

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.

.

“You can’t go a day without my pussy,” she had said to him after they’d had sex on the kitchen counter. She’d only come in here to get some juice while he was making coffee, and look how she’d ended up, with her panties on the floor, her skirt hiked up to her waist, her chest bare, and his cum slick on her inner thighs.

She didn’t even remember how it’d started.

He stood between her legs, a hand on the countertop on either side of her. A smirk peaked at the corner of his lips as he considered her with squinted eyes. “Is that a challenge?” he asked.

“It’s a fact,” she returned.

She expected him to tease back like he always would, but he only breathed out a soft laugh and pecked her on the cheek. “Get dressed,” he said. “The housekeeper might walk in.”

They spent the rest of the day in two separate rooms. He had a meeting with his dialect coach then locked himself in his library to study and practise his lines. Meanwhile, she did some research for her new book and tried to write as much as she could so her agent would stop bombarding her with phone calls, texts, and emails.

After dinner, he got a zoom meeting with his publicist, so she took a shower first and curled up in their bed, watching a porn movie on the telly while waiting for him.

He came in an hour later, his hair damp, a white towel draped over his shoulder. He cracked an amused half-smile when he saw what she was watching.

“When you said you were doing research, I didn’t expect this,” he said.

“My next book is a Fifty Shades fanfic. Don’t tell anyone.”

A laugh crackled out of him as she placed a finger on her lips to ask him to keep a secret.

When he returned to their bed a moment later and snuggled up against her, his curls were dry and falling into his forehead. He was wearing a plain white t-shirt and a pair of boxers she’d bought for him last week. She thought he looked extremely sexy this way. Biting her lip, she continued to stare at him, momentarily forgetting what she’d been watching until he asked, “What position is that?”

She whipped her eyes back to the screen and burst out laughing when she saw the couple performing an advanced version of Reverse Cowgirl, in which the guy’s hips weren’t even touching the bed.

“These porn movies are so extravagant,” he commented, now sitting shoulder to shoulder with her. “Who moans like that? Literally no one. The sex scenes I’ve done are way more sensual and convincing.”

She scowled at him, and his mouth curled. “Sorry,” he said though he didn’t seem very sorry.

She smacked him on the arm and picked another movie with more realistic sex. It was fun watching bad porn because they made her laugh more than they got her off. She wished she had stuck with that, because although she was exhausted, the heat between her legs would say otherwise. On the screen, the couple were fucking like rabbits on the sofa. They were more about pleasuring each other than putting on a show, so it was extremely hard to watch without getting turned on.

She rubbed her thighs together and stole a glance at her boyfriend, whose attention was on the movie. He was pinching his lips unconsciously, the thing he did when he was nervous or turned on. Weird. She was sitting right here. If he was hard, why hadn’t he touched her already?

She dropped her head to his shoulder and started tracing the tattoo on his arm, watching goosebumps pimpled his skin. It normally worked. He should have pinned her down on the bed by now. And if he was tired, he would let her sit on his face or let her ride him; Harry never said no to sex.

She would just let this slide if she wasn’t so horny and frustrated and angry. She leaned in closer, intentionally letting her breast brush against his arm. She was only wearing a sheer white babydoll chemise, which she knew he loved. It was astonishing that he hadn’t made any comment about it.

“Baby…”

“Shhh! I'm watching!” He covered her mouth with his hand while his eyes stayed fixed on the screen, his brows drawn together thoughtfully.

Surprised and frustrated, she licked his palm and he immediately shrank back and wiped the saliva onto her thigh.

She batted his hand away, her gaze skipping between him and the screen. “Why are you watching porn like it’s a cinematic masterpiece?” she huffed, tugging at his shirt.

He still didn’t look at her. “You're being disrespectful to these hardworking porn stars."

She crossed her arms over her chest and sunk into the pillow. “Maybe I should become a porn star so you’d pay attention to me."

He said nothing.

"I'm sorry, okay? For whatever I did or said," she said angrily. "Can you stop now?"

Still nothing.

"This is not funny, Harry!”

This time, when he softly shushed her, he placed a hand at the back of her head and stroked her hair like she was a cat. She knew he couldn't stay in character for too long. But this wasn't enough. She wanted all of his attention.

"When I asked you to watch porn with me, I didn't mean to actually watch porn," she said, resting her cheek against his arm.

His eyes suddenly searched her face, the look made her flustered. Arching an eyebrow, he said, "You told me I couldn't go a day without your pussy. It's only been a few hours and you're already asking to get fucked. Make up your mind, Bambi."

She jolted with a start, her mouth fell open. "I said it as a joke!"

He shrugged and turned back to the screen.

She continued to glare at him while he kept a straight face and began to comment as though they were watching a documentary. "Wow, look at that. Remember when I fucked you like that?"

"Arsehole," she muttered as a smirk crept up to his stupid face. She wasn't sure if she wanted to kick him or suck his dick. Maybe both. The moaning and slapping of skin from the video didn't really help in this situation.

Back straightened, she cleared her throat. “So you wouldn’t even touch me if I was naked?”

No answer.

She bit her lip and reached her hand under the cover to feel his dick over his boxers. He showed no emotions, still playing this game, but from the way he gulped, she knew he was destined to lose.

"You're hard."

"Great observation," he said smugly. "As you can see, I'm watching porn."

"Well, I'm wet," she whispered seductively despite his indifference. "And I hate to fuck myself right here right now because my boyfriend's a dick and he's ignoring me."

When he didn’t respond, she exhaled sharply and pushed his legs apart to sit between them, leaning against his chest. He let her do as she pleased but didn’t touch her. His hands remained on his thighs, his eyes fixed on the telly. When she pulled the chemise over her head and sat completely naked between his legs, he grabbed her hips only to push her to the side so he could continue watching. She stubbornly leaned left and right to block his view until his indifference got on her nerves.

She spread her thighs, draping each of her legs over his, her head tipped back on his shoulder as she moved her hand under the duvet and started touching herself.

At first, she only wanted to mess with him, but somehow this situation turned her on. She was gasping into the crook of his neck with two fingers curled inside of her. He hadn’t made a sound. She didn’t look up to check if he was watching her getting herself off, but from the way his palm twitched before he squeezed his own thigh, she knew he was going to give in one way or another.

She moaned louder, her free arm curled around his neck, her face pressed into his hot skin as she nipped the sweet spot below his ear. If he wasn’t going to touch her, she was going to touch him and drive him crazy until he lost it and had to fuck her. She knew how to play this game. And he was already hard, his cock poking at her lower back.

Eventually, he gave in. Not entirely, but he couldn’t keep his hands off hers any longer. He started by stroking her legs. She’d been craving for his touch, so just the warmth of his hands could make her flinch and pant heavily. He shushed her, his mouth at her ear. She could smell the champagne in his breath which turned her on even more. She was pretty sure the noises she made had drowned out the porn playing in the background.

“Slow down. Do not come yet,” he whispered into her ear. She shivered, biting her lip and giving a nod. “Look at you, Bambi.” She could feel a smirk in his dark tone. “Is this how good girls should behave?”

“You...were naughty first,” she argued, her lashes fluttering. The couple on the screen was doing missionary now. The girl was wailing as she came. Harry didn’t allow her to cum, so she had to chew on her lip and fight the urge to rub her clit.

“Why?” he asked in a fake concerning tone. “Because I didn’t pay attention to you? You couldn’t have my attention so you decided to misbehave?”

“You’re a dick,” she gasped. His faint laugh made her stomach clench and her walls close around her fingers.

“That’s not how you call me, love.”

Slowly, his hand made its way up up to her slick inner thigh and then he placed his palm on her lower stomach, not touching her where she wanted him to. Her breath caught as he grabbed a handful of her breast and started toying with her nipple.

His other hand curled under her thigh, spreading it to give her more access so she could do the work on her own.

She hated him. She loved him. She wanted him.

“Eyes on the screen,” he commanded, cupping her chin gently and tilting her head upward, his lips hot against her ear. “Remember when I fucked you like that?” he asked. “Just this morning. In this bed.” The girl on the screen was lying on her stomach, arse up, as the guy held her wrists together at her back and slammed into her mercilessly.

“Yes…”

Harry chuckled. He knew how good it’d felt for her. She’d bit onto the sheet when she came, wetting his dick. The memory worked better than the actual scene before her eyes. She arched her back and pumped her fingers faster, stroking her clit with her free hand.

“Stop,” he said roughly, but she didn’t listen. She fucked herself hard and cried into his neck. His breathing came ragged. She knew he was frustrated and annoyed. A triumph grin spread across her face, then she came hard, gasping his name, his massive hand squeezed her hip as he buried his face into her neck, groaning loudly as if he could feel it, too. His chest rose and fell unsteadily against her. His cock jerked at her lower back.

She didn’t have the strength to deny him for denying her. Now that she’d made herself cum, she only wanted him more. They both knew it never finished without his cum dripping out of her.

“You okay?”

She heard his raspy voice and tipped her head back to look up. His face was right above hers, his lips parted, ghosting over hers. His cheeks were flushed, and he was taking short breaths. He grasped her wrist and pulled her fingers out of her sensitive cunt. She watched him intensely as he brought her hand to his mouth and sucked and licked her two fingers clean while holding her gaze.

She couldn’t help it anymore. She cupped his cheek and pressed her lips to his, her mouth opened, her tongue sliding against his, heat pooling between her legs as if she hadn’t just cum a minute ago. He only broke the kiss to pull his shirt over his head, and she wasted no time to free his cock from his boxers. He was leaking precum and it made her mouth water. She wanted to taste it. Suddenly, he grabbed her by the hips and lifted her off him.

“On your stomach,” he demanded.

She shook her head wordlessly and reached for his cock. He quickly caught her wrists and tugged her up so they were face to face. “Not now.”

“But I want–”

“I’d cum if you put your mouth on me, Bambi,” he rasped, sounding almost helpless.

She clenched at the words and nodded as she scooted toward him on her knees, hands on his shoulders. “Let me ride you. I wanna see your face.”

His laugh turned into an exaggerated, ‘aww’ that made her want to punch him. Instead, she shoved at his chest and he dropped onto his back, hands on her knees as she straddled his thighs. She reached out and grasped his cock, stroking him just once, just to spread her wetness over him.

“Am I a good girl now?” she asked, her head cocked to the side.

“I don’t know. Show me,” he replied with a smirk.

She hitched herself up over his lap and slid down onto his cock, so suddenly that he jolted and dug his fingers into her bum. She rode him hard, holding his gaze. The way he grinned with his mouth open made her moan and squeeze around him. She hated how she was the one riding him but he still managed to have the upper hand.

He let her have her fun for a moment before grasping her bum and thrusting into her hard and fast. She cried out and fell onto his chest, their mouths meeting with more sloppy kisses.

“You like this, huh?” he panted into her ear, her fingers digging into his shoulders as an answer while he fucked into her, taking full control now. She nodded wildly before propping herself back up with her palms on his chest. Seeing the ink on his torso glistening with sweat made her stomach flip and her knees go numb. He circled his arm around her waist and hitched her up, drawing a gasp out of her before his mouth was on her throat as he pumped her on his dick.

“Yes, Daddy, yes.”

He didn’t stop, but his hips faltered for a second.

“What was that?” he asked, dropping his head to suck one of her nipples into his mouth. She could tell he’d been wanting to do this all night. She gasped and clenched around him. She had really sensitive nipples and he adored them.

“Daddy,” she whimpered, rolling her hips. He met her pleading stare and groaned. He knew she was close.

He sighed against her lips but didn’t object when she got one hand between them, two fingers on her clit, rubbing hard the way he would. He loved to make her cum but he also loved watching her touch herself.

She came first, stars exploding behind her eyelids as he fucked her through it and cum inside her, hips jerking up off the bed. Curses spilled from his lips and her own as they both collapsed, her on top of him, his arms tightened around her waist.

She was pretty sure she’d passed out for a second or two until she felt the warmth of his hands against the cool skin of her exposed back. She opened her eyes, cheek resting against his chest as her eyes searched his face. His cheeks dimpled as their eyes locked.

“You’re so spoiled now. Always getting your way,” he said, breathless.

She propped her head up and pouted. “You have to let me win because you’re older. That’s the rule.”

He contemplated her face with an arched eyebrow. “So I have to let you win because I’m older, but I’m not allowed to call you a child when you act like one?”

“Correct.” She nodded and combed her fingers through his hair, pushing his sweaty curls out of his forehead. “I need you to include that in your wedding vows.”

“My wedding vows,” he echoed, his mouth curled.

“Only if I say yes, though,” she clarified, lifting her chin.

“Only if I ask,” he smugly replied.

She glared at him before leaning down and kissing him again. Suddenly, he pushed her away, fingers still in her hair but his eyes were on the telly. “Look, Bambi.”

“What?” She whipped her head around, slightly annoyed by the interruption.

He chuckled softly. “They’re still going at it.”

[dangerouslyallaboutdraco]

Astronomy Project

A/n: Set during 3rd year, PoA, during the middle/beginning of the year when there isn’t anything to disrupting happening.

Astronomy was usually a pretty good class. There was always excitement when you got to go out after dark on a Wednesday.

Today it was more information about star movements that Professor Sinistra was teaching but a lot of your time was spent staring off into the glow of the night sky.

“And lastly, we’re going to be doing group projects. There will be four people in a group and you are going to have to research, almost like an experiment where you observe the stars every week for 2 months.” The professor said and you look to your best friends, who you were sat near, quickly. This was an opportunity you’d not yet been given in Astronomy and one you hoped you could make the most of by picking your own group. 

There was a flicker of hope in their eyes as they looked at each other. “I’ll be picking the groups.” A sigh of disappointment was heard across the room and your shoulders slumped. “Hush, hush. The first group who will be taking the movement of Jupiter, Y/l/n, Malfoy, Thomas and Brown.” You couldn’t keep the disappointment off your face, the one chance you had to work on a project for Astronomy and you couldn’t do it with your friends. On top of that, you had to work with Draco. 

There wasn’t a history between the two of you, you just didn’t like him much from all the rumours you’d heard throughout the three years you’d been at Hogwarts. As for Dean and Lavender, you were friendly enough with them. 

While Professor Sinistra was telling the rest of the class their groups, you were preparing for the worst. 

Five minutes was all the time it took for you to be sat next to your group, hoping for some miracle that could put you in a different space-time continuum where you got to pick your group. 

“Maybe we should meet tomorrow at the library to discuss how we’re going to do this?” You suggest to the group. Everyone else looked just as bored as you felt. 

Dean and Lavender nodded at the idea and Draco huffed. 

You look over to your best friend, sitting with another group, with an ‘Avada-Kedavra-me-now’ look and she returned it. This was not going to be a fun week.

“Alright, I hope you’ve made some plans. Class dismissed.” Professor Sinistra said and you almost jump up from your seat to leave.

“So we’ll all meet at the library tomorrow before classes? We’ve got a study block.” Lavender asked, noticing Draco’s obvious distaste to the rest of the group, hoping he’d agree to participate and not be a dick about it.

You and Dean both nodded, looking over to Draco. “Yeah, fine.” He finally agreed and the group went their separate ways.

Seeing as it was late in the evening you left to your common room, chatted with your friends for a while before going off to bed in dread of the next day.

The next morning you skipped breakfast, opting to do a little bit of research in the library instead before everyone else turned up. You flicked through a few books about Jupiter and it’s movements. 

Suddenly there were books slammed down on the table in front of you, making you jump in fear before looking up at... Draco. 

He looked down at you with his eyebrows raised and his lips drawn into a line. His hair looked as it did last night, maybe a little tidier but his face was still as pale. 

“Hey.” You said not really know how to talk to him. 

He looked somewhere in between bored and nervous. “You weren’t at breakfast.” He noticed making you furrow your eyebrows at the fact Draco Malfoy noticed you. 

“I wanted to read up on what our project was about.” You explained, still not sure why he was asking and why you were telling him. But there was something about him that made you not want to ask why he asked. 

Instead of standing, he sat down on the chair across from you and opened a book. You watched as he read through his notes. 

A few minutes later Lavender turned up and then finally Dean. You spent the morning working on the plan for the project, a plan which included dividing up all the work. Lavender and you were tasked with going up to the astronomy tower that night to observe the sky. 

“So, we have the rooster and we’ll just follow that for the rest of the time we have to do this.” You said, showing the rest of the group the schedule you’d jotted down. 

There was a collective agreement before you all went to your separate classes. 

~

It had been three weeks and once again you found yourself bored in class, thinking about going up to the astronomy town tonight with Dean. 

Classes seemed to be taking a long time but you finally made it to lunch, taking a seat next to your friends. 

“Y/n.” You turned your head at Lavender calling your name. “Dean’s not feeling great and I have to have to help decorate a banner for the quidditch game tomorrow.” You nod at what she’s saying before realising what it means. “So, you can go with Draco tonight?” Probably the last thing you wanted to hear, you weren’t meant to have to go with Draco until the 5th week. 

“Yeah, of course.” I should get points for this team commitment You thought while you agreed. 

Now the rest of your afternoon classes were filled with dreading this evening. It was going to have to happen but at least if everyone kept to the schedule you would have had another two weeks to prepare mentally. 

Finally, around 9, you walked up the stairs of the astronomy tower with your parchment, quill and astronomy book in your hand. You found Draco already sitting there, looking up at the sky. 

You hadn’t seen him since Charms class but as the moonlight danced across his face he looked peaceful. 

“Hi.” You said, trying to give him your best smile but honestly, it had been a long day after you failed a quiz on undetectable poisons and Snape yelled at you.

There wasn’t a lot of work you needed to do, just look over the map of the sky you had started the first night and trace the new location of Saturn onto it. 

“Are you alright?” Draco asked as he continued to stare at you. 

His question confused you, the thought of Draco being able to read human emotion really sent your head spinning. 

Silently, you nodded. “Yeah, I’m okay.” In your head, you were debating asking why he asked, “Why’d you ask?” It finally came out. 

“You just look...” He trailed off slightly, was it possible he didn’t want to offend you by using the wrong word. “Upset.”

The fact he could read how you were feeling was an even more concerning revelation. He stayed seated, watching you. Feeling awkward standing, you sat next to him.

Something about his now caring eyes made you want to tell him all your problems. “I just didn’t know 3rd year would be so difficult.” The perfect thing to say that didn’t disclose too much information. 

“Potions?” Your eyes flicked to meet his quickly, concerned about how he knew. It wasn’t that people didn’t know, you just didn’t want Draco to laugh at you. 

As you nodded at him, he smiled. Now that was something you didn’t see much. “I was waiting to talk to Snape, I didn’t mean to hear.” It almost sounded like an apology. 

“It’s alright, just don’t tell anyone, please.” You rush out, a little concerned. 

His face changed to looking worried. “I wouldn’t.” He seemed the type to. “You know, if you do need help, I can tutor you or something.” The generosity in his voice was out of character but charming. 

“It’s alright.” Again you rushed out your reply. Maybe it was that you were nervous around him but maybe it was that you feared him a little. 

He looked almost... sad. “Okay, should we get this done?” He asked, switching the conversation. 

“Yeah.” You agreed, getting up and starting on the work you had to do. It only took about 5 minutes before you were walking down the stairs, splitting off from Draco with a ‘goodbye’

~ 

Another 2 weeks had passed before you went up to the astronomy tower for your project again. And you knew Draco would be there.

You left your common room a little bit earlier and made it to the astronomy tower before Draco was there so you sat on the ground with your feet dangling over the edge of the tower. 

It was something that had always thrilled you, the fact that as amazing as magic is if you were to jump it probably couldn’t help you.

“What are you thinking about?” A voice you definitely recognised interrupted your concentration. Whipping your head around, you saw Draco standing there with the sky map and a quill in his hand. 

His hair was slicked back in a middle part which is how he was wearing it there days. The way he looked at you with those sparkling blue eyes was such a difference from his usual personality. 

“Not a lot.” You replied. “Just life.”

“Philosophical.” He quipped, making you smile. 

“Not really, wanna get started?” You ask, getting ready to stand up. 

Instead, Draco walked over and took a seat next to you. “Why don’t we just sit here and talk?” He asked, much to your surprise.

“What do we have to talk about?” You had to ask, even if it came off as a bit rude. 

He shrugged. “Why you hate me.”

His statement caught you off guard, making you do a double-take to look at the upset look on his face. “I don’t hate you.” There was still a frown on his face. “I’ve just heard things about you and I’ve heard things you’ve said.” You mumbled out. 

His face fell even more and you wanted to fix it but you didn’t know how. “I’m sorry.” You told him. “I don’t mean to judge you.”

“It’s okay.” Draco cut you off before you could continue. “Should we get this done?” He asked, standing up and offering you a hand. 

As soon as you took his hand you noticed how cold it felt, and those silver rings were even colder. 

Once he helped you up you got started on the project. It only took 5 minutes but being up in the astronomy tower with Draco was a nice feeling. 

Somehow you had both ended up sitting in the astronomy tower and talking for another half hour. 

“That first time in the library, you worried about not knowing enough, weren’t you?” Draco asked after a while, somehow he just knew everything. 

Your eyes meet his again. “Yeah, how’d you know?”

“I’ve been in the same situation...” He mumbled, staring past you and into the sky. 

“I just wish reading up on stuff could help me in potions.” You said with a sigh, over the past two weeks the class had only gotten worse and you really couldn’t keep up at this point. 

“You know, I can help you out.” Draco offered again but now that you’d sat with him you didn’t feel so horrible about it. 

“Are you sure you don’t mind?” He shook his head. “Okay then, tomorrow in the library?”

He nodded quickly. “I didn’t think you’d agree but yeah, I’ll see you after dinner.”

~

Sitting with Draco in a library was the last thing you expected to be doing on a Thursday night but here you were. It was quiet as usual and there were only a few other groups which you were thankful for, too much attention while you sat with Draco could only be bad, your friends had already had expressed their concerns about it. 

You’d taken up a whole table with your books, parchment and quill and Draco was sitting next to you with his blonde hair looking as perfect as ever and those dreamy eyes. 

“How do you get all of this?” You asked, feeling hopeless about an hour in. 

Draco looked over with a smile, sliding a book in front of you. “Well, I am Snape’s favourite.” He joked, letting you laugh. “I guess I just understand it. Don’t beat yourself up about it, though. I’m sure there’s some class you’re really good at.”

You turned your head on the side, that probably wasn’t true. “I guess I like astronomy.”

He nodded. “So you were probably really disappointed with the groups in the project?”

“Yeah, but I think the whole class was.” You told him and he nodded in agreement. 

Finally after about 3 hours of joking around and Draco helping you understand what Snape had been saying the whole time. You packed up your stuff quickly and walked with Draco out of the library. 

There weren’t many people in the corridor so you walked together for a while before he asked, “Do you maybe want to hang out down at Hogsmeade this weekend?” 

“Is the Draco Malfoy asking me out?” You quipped back, smiling as you look up at him before he frowned and you realised you might have come off as joking too much. 

He nodded. “Yes, and will you accept?” Maybe it was mock confidence but it showed you he wasn’t going to back down. 

“Yes.” You smiled before walking off to your common room, more excited about Saturday than you ever have been. 

~

“So where do you want to go? I was thinking Scrivenshaft's because I want one of those new quills and Honeydukes of course.” One of your best friends asked, rambling about the different places. 

Awkwardly, you looked over to the blond Slytherin boy, standing with his own friends in casual clothes. “Actually, I was going to hang out with Draco, is that alright?” You squeeze out, feeling awkward. 

“Okay, but we’ll talk about that later.” She said with stern eyes which made you laugh. 

After they had let you go, you walked over to Draco and waited until his friends had left to tap him on the shoulder. “Hey, you.” You said with a smile that he returned. 

“Hey, ready to go?” He asked, up close you could see the amount of work that he had put into his hair and it almost made you ask yourself if he was nervous. Not that it had been much different in your room this morning as you attempted to pick out an outfit. 

“Sure.” You said, looking around to see just about everyone had left which made you feel less nervous about everyone watching you on what was basically your first date. 

With the same, possible faux, confidence Draco took your hand in his and held it as you walked. 

You’d done the walk to Hogsmeade a few times before but this time, with Draco every part of the walk seemed prettier and you chatted about classes and your friends. Much to your surprise, it didn’t even feel awkward. 

“Let’s go to the three broomsticks?” He said, sort of as a question as he sought your approval. 

“Yeah, of course.” You agreed, squeezing his hand to comfort him. 

Two butterbeers, a table in the corner later and you were talking about how much better your grade in Potions had gotten. His supportive smile did make you smile back at him. And maybe it was the dimly lit room, Draco’s kind attitude or the nerve you had lost but suddenly your hand was on his across the table. 

He was a bit taken back and his hand twitched a little but eventually settled, holding your hand in his like you’d seen people do in the movies. 

For two hours you sat together, just holding hands and talking. It wasn’t what you usually spent time during Hogsmeade trips doing but it was nice. Being with Draco was nice and nothing like you expected it would be. 

“Do you want to go past Honeydukes before we have to go back to school? I’ll get you whatever you want.” He offered, noticing the time on his watch. 

You nodded while getting out of your seat. “Yeah, but you don’t have to buy me things.”

“Seriously, I want to.” He told you as he laced your hands together again and you walked past some other students and out of the Three Broomsticks. 

You passed a few students from your year on the way to Honeydukes and they all looked at the pair of you with eyebrows raised. 

Finally, you got to Honeydukes and, as usual, you had to spend a few seconds admiring the wonderful shop. From the light green shelves to the glass jars full of candy, you were never not amazed by the store. Even the vibe of excitement between students over picking what candy to get was enchanting.

Draco noticed you’d stopped and looked over at you. “What’s up?” He asked, a little concerned. 

“Sorry.” You quickly apologised, snapping back into reality. “This shop just does something to me.” He chuckled a little at the look in your eye and let go of your hands, wrapping his arm around your shoulder and pulling you into his side. It felt good to be so close to him, close enough you could smell the cologne he usually wore buried in his clothes.  

He didn’t comment on it, instead letting you look at the candy as he led you around. 

“Okay, what’s your thing?” Draco asked a few moments later. 

You didn’t even need to think about the answer. “Pink coconut ice, always.” There was so much confidence in your answer. 

“Alright so pink coconut ice, exploding bonbons and tooth-splitting strong mints,” Draco told Mr Flume, the shopkeeper you had come to love. 

Once you got your candy you took it outside to sit on a bench. “I can’t believe I’m on a date with someone who likes exploding bonbons.” You said, rolling your eyes at him as he put one into his mouth. They were seriously not something you enjoyed. 

“What? They’re so good.” He exclaimed, looking concerned for you. “Here, try one.” He said, picking it up and putting it near your lips. 

You shook your head but his constant smile made you part your lips and he put it into your mouth. Inside your mouth felt like it was on fire, with a weird mix of acidic flavour and slight pain. 

The urge to throw up was strong but you resisted it, swallowing down the ‘sweet’ as to not make a mess. “That was so gross!” You exclaimed, hitting him on the chest. 

He laughed at you and it made you smile after the distaste was obvious on your features. 

“Now you owe me some of this,” Draco said as he put a hand into your bag of coconut ice to get a piece. 

“What? I can’t feed it to you?” You quipped as he put it into his mouth, that remark made him smirk. 

And he didn’t have a comment for that but let’s just say that the rest of the project was much more enjoyable

[corpsentry]

january: an art retrospective

i did some stuff last month (but it’s a lot of stuff and there’s a photodump + some Serious Fucking Reflection, so it’s all below the cut)

so ok, let’s start with this. here are some heads. each head has a red arrow. that red arrow is what i call the red line of the devil. it’s the slope of the face from the side of the eye to the cheekbone and then down towards the chin. up until like 2 weeks ago, i couldn’t draw it. i couldn’t fucking draw it. i would edit over that part of the face over and over again until i was frustrated and tired and i had a raging homosexual headache and it still never looked right. notice that each head is different. notice that each head looks wrong.

at the start of 2021 i finally admitted to myself, as per the image above, that i was deeply, deeply unhappy with my art. what was the problem? i dunno. but i decided i was going to fix it and i was going to do so via another one scribble a day event wherein for every day of january i would find a photo of a human head, and i would draw it.

january 1st, 2021. i was embarrassed to tweet this even on my private account where like 5 friends and a rock would see it. in retrospect, you can also see all of my bad habits emerging like dicks from a hole in the ground. it’s disproportionate. the brows look flat. the eyes are slanting upwards. the entire drawing looks flat, like this isn’t a 3d person but a caricature of one.

january 2nd, 3rd, 4th:

on the 2nd i decided to start a separate thread for doodles and applied learning. here’s the first set of tests

the rest of the week is kind of uneventful so we’re going to skip those. fast forward to january 11th

this one is especially bad. i am acutely aware, suddenly, that i am not changing anything at all. i’m stressed and miserable about it because i’m still trying to see people as people and trying to draw people that look attractive and proportionate and hot. my friend, leny, reminds me that i need to think about faces in terms of planes. i have a moment. my other friend masha sends me some links to anatomy tutorials. i have another moment.

january 11th. applied sketch

january 13th is when i start the troubleshooting process. the link above drives me mad because i’m pretty happy with the face but then i realize that there’s something very fucking wrong with the shape of the head LOL and then i realize that i’ve never had any idea what the proportion of the face to the rest of the skull is so i grit my teeth and i open a new canvas and i

bald studies. it seemed like the right thing to do. can’t draw heads? ok draw some heads. look at some photographs. i traced each photo but tried to stick to straight lines so that i could replicate the shapes more easily. i broke each face down into shapes. i thought about airplanes

i got really excited. i started doing studies, then applied studies, then stylized studies.

sketches. i’m not sure what’s going on (as always) and it’s very rough, but they look different from the sketches i did on january 2nd. that’s a start

january 16th’s daily study. looks more like a person now. juuuuuust a bit

more applied studies

on the 18th i take a break and go stare at some lips because i don’t understand how the fuck they work. again, i focus on shapes, on volume, on the fact that these things exist in 3d. holy fuck lips exist in 3d. holy fuck we are real

january 19th. i’m working on it.

january 22nd. some sketches + a daily study. it has finally occurred to me that heads can tilt up and down and that things look different accordingly. yes i was not aware of this before. yes i have been drawing for over a decade.

january 23rd. by this point after doing my daily sketch i almost always go back and do an applied study which is basically to say i drew a lot of fucking links. this one looks kind of okay. i’m kind of proud

january 25th. links. trying to make sense of everything i’ve learned

26th, 27th, 28th. daily studies

january 1st. january 31st

The End Of The Photo Dump (dab)

ok NOW i get to talk about what i discovered while studying the shit out of human beings

FIRST OF ALL, there is something precious and magical about drawing shit without the explicit knowledge that you’re going to tweet that shit out to 45 people later. it takes the burden of perception off your shoulders and that does something to you, or at least that’s my theory. i told myself i wouldn’t post any of this stuff until the end of the month (if i wanted to post it at all) and kept everything off my public social media accounts and that meant i could draw ugly as hell without worrying about who would point and laugh, which i absolutely fucking did. a lot of these are fucking trainwrecks. most of these are fucking trainwrecks. why do they look like that?? why??? this doesn’t look like the work of someone who’s allegedly been drawing since they were in kindergarten, does it?????

here’s why: because that person took a huge motherfucking swing at everything they’d ever known about art and spent a month building something new in its place. the abstract explanation is that i grew up on shoujo and weird old anime and my understanding of anatomy was unironically kamichama karin and while i love kamichama karin, when kamichama karin is your rule even if you try to break it, you’re going to end up going nowhere. “you have to know the rules to break them”, yeah? well i didn’t know shit. the abstract explanation is i’ve been miserable about my art for a few years now because i saw other people doing things effortlessly which i couldn’t and instead of going back to the basics, i tried to do what they did (not plagiarism, mind you, i mean i literally tried to copy the red line of the devil i mentioned above because i couldn’t even make that happen) and then i fucking failed.

the simple explanation is this. i had to unlearn everything, and relearn it again (like some kind of new renaissance clown, what the fuck is this?)

take this for example. all my life i’ve drawn faces in the order: eyes, nose, mouth, face shape, head. this works for some people, im aware, but it was something central to how i had always drawn, so i decentralized it. i said fuck you to the old me and changed the order up. now i start with the nose, then the eyes, mouth, the chin line, and the sides of the face. now i force myself to think about the human head as a series of parts interacting with each other instead of a bunch of disparate features which i want to look pretty.

or let’s use this zelda from last year. something about this looked wrong last october, the way something about all of my drawings looked wrong, but i couldn’t pinpoint it for hell the way i couldn’t articulate Any of my feelings about the visual arts. now, looking back, here’s what i see. that nose is sticking out far too much given how she’s not really facing very far away from the camera. that ear at the back shouldn’t be there. her forehead is too big. she doesn’t have a forehead. what the fuck is up with the shape of her head?

so apparently reject modernity embrace tradition has its roots in alt-right terminology and i’m not very horny for the alt-right (you understand), but the spirit survives here. you know sometimes you have to admit that you have no idea what the fuck you’re doing and draw people for 31 days. i’ve spent my whole life drawing stylized people and while again there are artists who have no issue with this, i veered off the track of the Good and the Holy and couldn’t get back on. i had no point of reference because i’d never thought about what an actual human being looks like, so i had no way to fix what i knew in my gut looked wrong but wouldn’t come out better.

this was hard. this was like oikawa tooru swallowing his worthless pride and admitting that ushijima wakatoshi had gotten the best of him for the last time in his high school career, but in haikyuu!! by furudate haruichi oikawa tooru fucks off to argentina and then joins the argentinean national team, and you know what, i think i’ve made it to argentina (not the team just the country). as per the golden rule of dont fucking move until you’re at least two thirds of the way through the month, i only started trying to draw Shit shit on like the 22nd or something, but i was happy with that i created. i am happy with what i’ve done. i’ve posted like 2 things this month that involve people with what i now call ~applied Knowledge~~ and they’re, like, not perfect obviously (perfection is an unattainable ideal), but i’m fucking proud of them. i didn’t spend 5 hours hunched over my laptop adjusting the red line of the devil because it’s not a devil’s line anymore. because i finally sorta get how people work. because i sat down and i said ‘we are not going to fuck with this misery shit anymore’ and then i did that. it’s just a line now.

here are 2 collages tracking my painstakingly carved out progress from january 2nd to february 2nd because i’m a slut for collages

and here’s what i’ve done to my art! the same person drew these but also Not Really! you know! for the first time in a year i don’t immediately hate what i’ve drawn. you know what guys? art is fucking fun. zelda’s forehead doesn’t scare me anymore because i know how foreheads fucking work now, and i don’t know everything, and i’m going to keep troubleshooting stuff as i go (i want to draw a skeleton. like a. i want to draw a goddamn skeleton guys) but i’m honestly and genuinely proud of what i’ve done in the span of a month, and i’m also in disbelief. i started this month-long challenge out as a last ditch effort to make peace with my art because i’ve been tired for a long time and i was ready to kick the bucket on drawing people altogether. i didn’t think anything would happen. nothing’s happened for years. i’ve been miserable for years.

this was the caption for january 1st, 2021. i was super, super fucking embarrassed and it looks like super fucking shit, but you know what, i think i did in fact triumph over the bullshit. surprisingly enough, when you put in consistent effort into something, You Will See Results. didn’t see that coming, did you? i know i didn’t.

this isn’t a success story. it’s a happiness story. i never gave a shit damn about the institute of art or whatever, i was just mad at myself because what i saw in my head didn’t match up with what was on the canvas. and now it’s getting better. now i’m calibrating the compass. now drawing not just backgrounds but also people is exciting to me, and i can stick my links in your face and tell you ‘they hot’. i’m going to keep doing that. i’m going to keep going until i drop off the side of the earth and then spiral towards mars like some kind of fairy, and then i’m going to create something beautiful.

thanks for reading. here’s a pr department link for sticking around until the end

[umisabaku]

Hi! I'm a huge fan as of a week ago when I discovered designation miracle and speedread through all of it. I really love your writing so much, so I had to ask: please please write a reki/langa piece? It can be AU/scifi/fantasy anything you like, and doesn't have to be long but I would so love to see your fic/minific! also, i saw that you had posted about tying the kuroko fantasy AU together -- have you thought of looking at 1001 nights instead of grimms, they have a lot of nested stories

It doesn't take him long to figure out that 1) he died and 2) apparently reincarnated in the body of Kyan Reki, minor trash character in Ice Infinity, long-running web novel series he used to read because his younger sister made him. Which, holy shit, he did not think that actually happened, and apparently he should have paid more attention to transmigration web novels instead of skating. (Nope, that wouldn't have happened. He loved skating. Still loves skating. This is clearly his little sister's fault, for being fond of dark fantasy harem novels instead of transmigration novels.)

He tugs his floofy red hair and thinks that this isn't the worst possible novel to wake up in, but it's pretty bad. At least he's familiar with the story line. Protagonist Hasegawa Langa, aka Prince of Ice and Snow, was cursed as a baby (although he doesn't know it) to have a frozen heart. He competes in a (very long, drawn-out) magic tournament, and becomes super awesome magic ruler of all time, but each battle brings out a darker side of him, and the more evil he gets, the more the world begins to ice over. This is, in part, due to the manipulations of Demon Lord Adam, who wants Langa's powers for himself. Meanwhile, various women try to "unfreeze the prince's heart" or whatever, with the implication that if someone managed to melt his broken heart, the world wouldn't be destroyed by ice.

(Reki gave his sister so much shit for liking this story. It was still ongoing, and the world was almost destroyed by ice. There'd been, like, fifty different women who were potential love interests throughout this saga, and the Prince still had a frozen heart. Also, he was pretty evil at that point. Reki's not sure what the appeal is, although now that he's in the book, he's at least grateful that he knows what's coming.)

The problem is, Kyan Reki dies in the first chapter. Killed by Langa, in fact, which Reki (now that he is Reki) does not appreciate. Reki was a brash, arrogant jerk, with low level fire magic. He was Langa's first opponent in the tournament, and had insulted the memory of Langa's dead father, which is what provoked the killing. Langa hadn't meant to kill Reki, but the accidental murder is what started the long path towards evil, frozen heart, and the end of the world.

So now that Reki knows what's coming he thinks, Well, I'll just not do that then.

Seems simple enough. He comes up with a Plan of Survival: He won't compete in the magic tournament, he'll stay away from the Ice Prince, and maybe move to a tropical island or something. He doesn't like the idea of the world freezing over, but that seems like a problem far in the future. And hey, this world doesn't have skateboards, but it has all the materials he needs to make skateboards, which means it's not so bad, as fantasy worlds go. Fire magic is pretty cool too.

Step one: withdraw from tournament. Easily done! Everyone looks surprised when he announces his withdrawal. Shadow says, "What are you talking about?? We're supposed to have our grudge match! Weren't you telling everyone that you were going to kick their asses?"

Wow, that's embarrassing. Reki wishes he woke up earlier in the book, before his character made stupid brags. "Nope, I'm good. Have fun, though!"

Step two: Stay away from the Ice Prince. This also seems like it should be fairly easy, since Reki isn't going to the magic tournament.

Except the very next day he practically runs into Langa on his newly made skateboard.

"AH! Ice Prince!" Reki says from the ground.

"What?" Langa says.

Oh right, no one calls him that yet.

"That's, uh, the name of my skateboard," Reki says. He gets up and dusts his pants, and then moves to retrieve his board. He spins one of the wheels and then, mostly to himself, he says, "I think I need to adjust the balance."

"Your what?" Langa says, looking over Reki's shoulder.

Reki tenses, feeling very close to death right now. Don't insult his dead father. Don't insult his dead father. "My skateboard," he says. "For skating." And then, because he can't help himself, he brags, "I made it."

"You did?" Langa says. His voice doesn't reveal a lot of emotion (frozen heart, and all) but he sounds impressed. "Is that what you were doing earlier? With the loops?"

"Oh, you saw that?" Reki says, embarrassed.

"Do you have wind magic?"

"Nope, just fire," Reki says. Then, remembering their fight to the death, hastily adds, "Low level fire magic. Very low fire. Practically nonexistent, really."

"And you still flew in the air like that?" Langa says.

"Because of the skateboard!" Reki balances on the board and circles around Langa so he can get a good look.

"Is it for transportation?"

"It's for a lot of things! But mostly, it's for fun!" If he accomplishes nothing else but introduce skateboarding into this fantasy world, Reki feels like he'll have made an important legacy. Then, because Langa still looks intrigued, Reki says, "Do you want to try?"

"Can I?" Langa says, sounding surprised by the invite.

"Sure! Anyone can skate." Reki hops off the board and shows Langa how to get on, all the while revisiting his Plan for Survival.

He doesn't really want the world to freeze over. And that Adam guy is a dick. Langa probably wouldn't have killed so many people if Adam hadn't been manipulating things in the background. Maybe... maybe Reki should stick around Langa, show him how to have fun, introduce him to some nice girls, and keep him from turning evil and destroying the world.

He completely misses the marveling look Langa is giving him, like he's just seen something wonderful.

A/N: Thank you, anon-friend! I'm glad you enjoy my stories. I've been wanting to write something for SK8 but wasn't sure what kind of AU I should do. Since I've been reading and watching a lot of Isekai lately, and I've never written that as an AU before, I thought this would be fun! Hope you enjoyed! (also, I kinda want to stick with Grimm, but would consider branching out for other fairy tale stories!)

[lillian-nator]

Wallflower AU (aka highschool au made w/ @bellfort3)

V i b e s - hanging on the roof; walking across train tracks; skipping school; Lakes, yes, something with lakes; something with different types of sodas. - My angsty teens are gonna have painted nails - Tommy bleaches his hair; Wilbur dyes his hair black - dramatic fuck. - Wilbur in eyeliner plz - Wilbur wears doc martens; black, yellow, maroon, silver shiny - Tommy's worn the same exact jean jacket for the past 5 years; it's 2 sizes bigger than he is; but he wears it every single day; it has fur on the inside; and its light washed with tears; the tears didn’t come like it; he's just ripped it over the years - He doesn't wash it very often, but he's glued patches on it, and Wilbur's drawn on it in sharpie. He just layers hoodies or flannels under it when it’s cold, but still wears it when it's hot - Tommy's also worn the same shoes for YEARS, they’re duct taped together at this point, they're white converse, they're not white anymore, and he's bleach-washed them SO many times that they permanently smell like chemicals. - The laces are frayed, so bad that he doesn’t even wear the laces most days. - Tommy doesn't shy from going in mud or water though, he'll wear the shoes to their fullest and then some. - I think you can tell by now, that Tommy just doesn’t come from a lot of money. - They live in a kind of run down town, very poor, old, smallish. - Wilbur is middle class, which is very well off in the area he lives in. - Wilbur gives off family disappointment vibes. Where he has to sneak out at night, Tommy can leave through his front door. - Wilbur calls Tommy “sunshine”, but very sarcastically since Tommy is a dick :) - Tommy has one of Wilbur's old beanies; it's black and monster branded, the monster logo is green - Wilbur gave it to Tommy 3 years ago, and Tommy never gave it back - btw Tommy's 17 and Wilbur's 19: Tommy's a junior and Wilbur's a senior - Wilbur only drinks Green Apple Monster - Tommy drinks sugar free redbull, but mostly only when Wilbur buys it for him, because Tommy usually doesn't have pocket change - Wilbur and Tommy bring speakers to the train tracks and dance and by that, its them jumping around and occasionally pushing someone over - Tommy uses his allowance to buy cigarettes; Wilbur vapes - both mentally ill - Wilbur is essentially the modern emo. He has this one yellow and black flannel that's oversized, and he wears it multiple times a week - it’s a problem.

- Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo - That’s the group. - I have just been talking about Tommy and Wilbur but they are the main characters so you can suck it. - A scene with Dream, Wilbur, Karl, Tommy, Big Q, SapNap, Punz, and Tubbo, at a lake, throwing each other in, and Tommy gets his shoes soaked, but he saves his jacket from the fall. Water gun fights, and they drink energy drinks and eat chips. they lay in the grass and contemplate life, Talk abt life yes. Abt existence. Abt how shit it is. Half of them have to wake up early and sneak home, the other half get to stay as long as they like. - Tommy tucks his t-shirts into his pants, which are always very baggy black jeans with just gigantic holes. - Tommy and Dream both have ADHD, however, Tommy's meds are purely from welfare, he cannot afford to give any out. Dream however? From an upper-middleclass family. Basically millionaires in this town. He can afford to lose some of his meds. - He yells in the clearing "COME GET YOUR DRUGS CHILDREN" - Besides, I've learned that there are like so many different ADHD meds, and maybe Tommy is just on something a lot stronger than adderall. He can't partake in the pill popping, but he doesn't mind. He does it every morning. - They don't do it often, maybe once a month, depends on how big Dream's prescription is - not that he regularly takes them like a good boy should - And I won't ever write this, but Gogy hangs out with them every so often, in which Gogy and Wilbur have an on and off again hooking up type relationship - whenever they hang out, Gogy like sits and Wilbur's lap and shit - Tommy and Punz GAG - "EW the fuck - get your hands off eachother. ITS GROSS - NO PDA IN MY BACKYARD"

- They hang out in an abandoned Building. But they don't try to fix it up. They're not fucking VSCO girls. They just want somewhere to hang out - If anything they make it worse - they fucking trash the place - It’s not intentional though - It’s like they can have fun without worrying abt the mess - just, sometimes they spill hawiian punch mixed with vodka everywhere - THEY GHOST HUNT AND OUIJA BOARD AND SHIT - They hang out in cemeteries too. they play manhunt in a cemetery, but like the regular version- like just hide and go seek in the dark. - they've done seances even though almost all of them are atheists - anyways the point of the fact is, is that half of them (excluding the minors you know) I'm looking at you Karl and Q - somethings going on between you two have made out with guys, and I'm not gonna sugar coat it, most modern like takes on religion do not take kindly to that

- they go to prom - and Dream somehow ends up with a ton of weed, because he had just turned old enough, and had the money - and they get fucking high OUT of their minds, like they're never doing it again - like, George and Wilbur definitely hooked up at Wilbur's house, which they aren't supposed to do - because Wilbur's parents will fucking flip that Wilbur is sleeping with a random person. No one is quite sure where SapNap ended up, and Tommy lost one of his shoes. In a panic, they spent the next 3 hours looking for it to find it at the lake by the school - Tommy fucking cradles it to his chest. -  (are wilburs parents homophobic?) (yes maybe a little side of homophobia) (Is wilbur bisexual or gay?) (he is ‘whoever the fuck looks bangable’) (fair enough) (he is ‘gogy my king’) (TRUUUE) - the bleachers - they hang out under the bleachers

- Gogy = Stylish stoner - very popular, but never not high - Karl is like the goody two-shoes of the group, doesn't skip class, and is on the principals list, however, he will NEVER back down from space brownies - its his weakness - Tubbo has a subway pass, and they do that thing where Tubbo swipes it and everyone fucking bolts into the subway, and they take all the trains at like 4am and just hang from the bars and shit - Wilbur still dresses relatively like, nicely and scholarly, which puts everyone off. He wears very loose sweaters with button-ups underneath. with khakis or black jeans and his docs - where his best friend, our Tommy, wears borderline yellow converse, and one bleached two-sizes-too-large jean jacket, and some second-hand-store hoodies, that are always a bit too worn in, but so, incredibly Tommy - Tommy who legit hasn't brushed his hair in years, not with a brush anyways - too frantic to brush his teeth most mornings. but always chewing gum; Tommy's always everywhere at once - ADHD meds only half-working on him, they couldn't afford the good shit - He'll never quite understand Dream handing out his adderall for free, Tommy would kill for the hard shit, but hey, he's never gonna stop his friends from having a good time

- Let's talk about Karl Jacobs - good ole' goody two shoes Jacobs - all of his teachers are constantly trying to get him to stop hanging out with Tommy and gang - every parent teacher conference is "we love your boy, but we are concerned about his friends" - Teachers have meetings with him, about how the people you surround yourself with can change your future - Karl's like, from the good side of town, plays first in the drumline, plays violin on the side, straight a's, clean-white-air-force-ones type of guy. Name brand clothes. Combed hair - Packed lunch every day from his mom; gets dropped off by his mom, kisses her goodbye; Mom is like very involved in school too - PTA parent - it's fucking good kid Jacobs - and he's sneaking off with fucking potheads to go to college parties and abandoned buildings - Does he do drugs? Well, he’s a big fan of treats if you know what I mean :wink wink: - ….you ever see Ted's video about a 500mg edible …. yeah. - big fan of gummy bears and brownies - Karl shows up to Parties and there are shouts of "Fuckin' goody-two-shoes Jacobs is HERE" - a lot of people make fun of him and think they can push him around - He seems like a softie; welcome mat type beat - but fucking watch this man chug 5 cups of whatever you give him, and then still win beer pong - Like his best friend is fucking quackity, he can do the hard shit - its very much a his parents have no clue who he actually is type beat - Look, his parents have no clue where he is ever - And if they even know he’s out, they don’t know where or with who - If his mom is at all involved in the school, she'll hear about Quackity, basically a drug dealer with how much hash weed he hands out on a daily basis. - Tommy has to be contained in order for the school to run smoothly, and Wilbur is a dramatic fuck that sleeps through most of his classes - Tommy has to take frequent breaks - They make him spend 3rd period in the principles office - Like he obviously needs help but he can’t afford it at all. Even the school can’t do anything for him bc he can’t get anything official for himself - like he can't even try to concentrate - He gave up so quickly in high school, bc they don’t have enough time or staff to help him - he tried in middle school - but man, did he give up in highschool - Yeah. He knows it is hopeless. Can't even afford college anyway. he'll just do whatever Wilbur does - here's an idea: Fucking Karl Jacobs showing up to school one morning just absolutely hammered out of his mind - Karl just showing up to first period AP Physics, and he's barely awake, honestly smells so much like weed and booze, and if he breathed anywhere near you, you could just feel the alcohol radiating from his breath - He's extra bubbly, laughs at everything - takes out his notebook to take some sort of notes, and just fucking giggles at the shapes and equations. He is very spacy, he clearly stayed up all night doing something very illegal; he gets up and jumps around. 2nd period band? oh boy - He gets sick at lunch bet - Like everyone got Drunk but Karl got FUCKED up - It was his birthday, bet - He took like 17 shots over the course of like 8 - 12ish hours, and I looked it up, despite karl being super scrawny and probably like 140 - 150ish pounds - which isn't a lot for being 5'11 - will not kill him - BECAUSE, you guessed it, he turned 17 - He didn't sleep, he was awake taking shots and just fucking who knows what until 6am when they stumbled to school - at lunch, 11:30 in the morning - he's head down on the table, miserable - he doesn't have a hangover yet, because it's only been a few hours, but man, is he nauseous - just the smell of food makes his stomach churn - and the thing about fucking Jacobs showing up drunk as hell - is that at least one of his teachers has called his mom about it - SHES PRESIDENT OF THE PTA FOR FUCKS SAKE, ONE OF THEM KNOWS HER - And the teachers aren't stupid, Karl is so obviously drunk - generally Karl is pretty quiet in class; but now he has no distinction between hanging with hs friends and being in class - he's shouting and cracking jokes and is very tempted to kick his chair over - Anyways, Karl fucks himself over, end of story  - ONTO PUNZ’S RELGIEOUS TRAUMA WOOOOOOOOOOOO - It's Punz - fuckin' golden boy Punz; he plays football; and goes to church; and calls his mother "momma"; wears a nice church outfit; and is polite to the bible study mothers that come over on tuesday nights and gets them drinks - just a fuckin' golden boy - A religious family. Go to church every Sunday. Sunday school. Holidays. But. The kid just realizes that they don’t believe in god. Them telling the group like they’re high and he’s like “you know? Some of the shit that’s happened to us proves to me that god rlly isn’t real.” - and Punz like prays every day for Tommy's dad to get his job back; or for Gogy to get better parents; or for Karl to live the life he wants; and NOTHING EVER WORKS. THEY'RE ALL STILL FUCKED. - by the way we will get the the Tommy's dad losing his job later - But Punz's life is controlled by something he doesn't even believe in anymore - because he's still going to the like church breakfasts, and christmas service, and every sunday morning, and helping his mom's ladies bible study, and his parents are talking about sending him to a youth bible camp - - and he doesn't even think he believes in god anymore. - Punz kind of took out his own personal, religious, and family struggles out the way most teenage boys do. Drinking, and lots of sex. - SO I just imagined this like, really dramatic moment, where its the morning after Punz had a one night stand at some sort of party down the street, and he's long past saving his virginity for his wife, but he's buying her the morning after pill, which his church is just so against, and he has like the moment of, "if you do this, you're done." and he does it - he's had a couple of those moments, like, when he first had sex, and when he first smoked weed, or popped a pill, or snuck out at night, or skipped church - but that was the moment of "there is no going back" - like any type of drug or procedure that aborts an embryo, or that blocks fertilization thats already in process in like: the biggest no no in his church community - so once he stepped out of that drug store, he kind of took a breath, and just came to terms with it - "I'm an atheist." - Punz is the pastors son. - he's like, pre-commited to a catholic college - he’s in deep. - so when he first announces it to his friends, one really late night, "I think god might not be my thing." - they just start whistling and say "FINALLY, THE PASTORS SON HAS TURNED AROUND." - Dream just like turns over to him "how many chicks did you fuck to make you realize that?" - Tommy just slings his arm over Punz, "I'm glad you've quit the Jesus shit, Punz. Your better than it." - There’s gotta be this girl ok. He rlly rlly wants to have sex with her but he always backs out. The thing that breaks him. Is that he gets drunk and loses his virginity to someone who is not that girl - like, he likes this girl, and has a good connection with her, and she likes him, and he knows that its gonna be comepletly consentual, and she's like fucking beautiful right? - and she's the one he wants to loose it to and he's a stupid fucking idiot and loses it to some fucking random ass chick that doesn't even go to their school - This triggers a spiral. After that? He slowly starts giving less of a fuck abt everything. He fucked up the one thing you can’t do over and god he’s so painfully aware of it and so painfully aware that he didn’t even fuck up right. - You’re supposed to wait till marriage. Nope. You’re supposed to do it with someone you love and trust. Double nope. He. Fucked. Up. - its just like he wanted to do something bad. he wanted to fuck something up. he was questioning his faith, his like, great and sturdy and always-there faith for the first time, and what better way to test faith than to do something shitty and see what comes of it. and so he was planning and planning and planning how he was gonna do this terrible thing - which is such a good kid thing to do, to put so much thought into your own rebellion - but he wanted this to go perfectly. - Little Pastors Son, Punz, wasn't gonna wait till marriage. - He was gonna have sex with the girl of his dreams before they were even dating - but man did he like her. Did he want her. - And then he fucked some random girl when he was black out drunk. He's fucked everything up - he can't wash this away with confession - he's tainted. He's dirty. - He looks in the mirror and doesn't recognize the heathen staring back. - He hates who he's become. - But he never goes back - he can't. He's dirty. He's wrong. - but the more he goes down the spiral - the more he realizes that one mistake shouldn't have made him feel like that - that if god was real, which he honestly wasn't sure in that department, he wouldn't want Punz to feel like the scum of the earth for doing something wrong. especially when he felt so bad after he did it. This system was fucked. He didn't want to be apart of another cycle - and he's just lying to himself every time he goes to church, and reads a cerse for his mom, and meets with younger kids at the church, and plays flag football with fucking church virgins who are good catholics and follow all their mommas orders - And every night when he says grace he means it less and less. he always does it when his momma asks, but boy does the lords word mean shit to him anymore From Ethan: - A turning point to the others in Punz's breakaway from Catholicism is like - He prays before he eats, usually. Sometimes they wait for him to finish his prayer before eating themselves, just out of politeness. He's a friend, he gets that shred of etiquette - And then one day he just doesn't. They got some fast food for a whole group dinner out at their hangout spot (a warehouse, did you say??) Tommy is staring at it intently but he waits for Punz to pray. Tubbo's already started eating but the rest wait - And Punz just starts eating - Dream nudges him, "No prayer, Pastor's boy?" - "No prayer," Punz mumbles into his food. "I'm trying something new." SO, TOMMYS DAD LOSING HIS JOB ARC W000000000 - it starts with Tommy showing up in a different jacket one day - like you have to understand, he's worn this jean jacket every single day for as long as WIlbur has known him, which is like 6 years - Like Tommy shows up in this giant, khaki work-jacket and it's his dads... - HIS DAD DIDNT DIE - his dad lost his job, which is essentially death to a family who already couldn't sustain themselves - and Tommy shows up to school, face pale and cheeks sunk in and there are visible bags under his eyes - and Wilbur just rushes over immediately and hugs him so tight to his chest - and Tommy just sobs, "pops lost his job -" gasp "I can't - we can't pay the bills this month. everything - its all falling apart Will." - "Hey - hey. Stop. It's gonna be fine. You're gonna be okay. You always are dude." - Tommy does have to get a job - and he probably does drop out of school unofficially, like he just stops going. - he sleeps during the morning classes, and heads into work at 10am - he's a carpenters assistant. it pays well as they need young, able men. but most of the younger citizens in the town go to school - he has to take the day shift because the day shift pays better - he doesn't mind it, he doesn't - it gives him the opportunity to get all of his energy out; but he misses going to school. as much as he hated it, he misses his friends. - and lets be honest, its hard as fuck for his dad to find a new job, he doesn't have a great resume - he didn't graduate from highschool. and he isn;t in top health condition, he definitely doesn't have health insurance - so Tommys stuck with this job for a long time - his dad uses his last paycheck to buy Tommy workboots so tommy feels in debt to him - He’ll get his GED eventually. - I think - The like religious status of the rest of the group brought to you by me - Everyone who I don’t mention is just a hard atheist - Karl and Wilbur are catholic, but to a lesser extent, Wilbur doesn't really go through with lent, and Karl only sometimes does. They go to a different church and go pretty much on holidays only, a sunday a month maybe. - SapNap goes to Punz's church, they've been friends for years. - He goes to sunday school but misses a lot of sermons because of his siblings sports games. - He is involved, but not to the way Punz is - SapNap's mother is in fact in Punz's moms bible group - Punz sometimes doesnt attend the bible group and Sap's mother is all "now you tell that pastor's boy to actually attend next time, got it?" and Sapnap dies a little on the inside - And George is an orthodox christian, but he's pretty much quit due to the blatant homophobia he's seen at his church. 

AND NOW ON WILBUR SOOT AND KARL JACOBS AND BARKING - Wilbur has siblings, fun fact - that we will never talk about or address - but definitely nothing like Wilbur, more the Karl Jacobs type - Wilbur is the oldest. he's always lectured about being 'a good influence on your brother and sister.' - They’re big sports kids. Softball and Basketball (tall genes). Straight Bs; Bed by 10pm; Have never missed school - Parents pride and joy :) - Just good suburban kids, Have friends next door, help the neighbors, attend the cul-de-sac barbecues. - Basically who Wilbur used to be up until highschool (until Wilbur met weed and a good group of stoners) - Sure he was a disappointment and he had no clue what to do with his life - But he was happier - Never really liked being the goody- two-shoes boy next door, he doesn't know how karl does it “Playing good boy like a dog” - Also he used dog terms around Karl - Because he’s “Playing good boy like a dog” - He’ll throw Karl a beer and smile “go fetch” - He laughs so hard when he sees Karl be good in a class or play it up for his parents; Because Wilbur’s so past trying - Wilbur will walk by and just bark at karl. Bet. Just Growls lowly; Walks in a  circle; Anything to make Karl’s parents (or Wilbur’s own) stare at him and scurry away - Karl’s parents push Karl forward and like hold their younger kids close to their chest, whispering “keep close, don’t look at him” - They tell Karl to stay away from kids like him. - And boy do Wilbur’s pa#rents hate it, They push him along and whisper yell at him As he throws his head back and cackles - I mean imagine, like a stereotypical middle class suburban family: House wife, blue collared father, Two kids; in sports jerseys, Girl in braids, boy in khakis - And then there’s Wilbur: Doc Martins, black jeans, collar and sweater, beanie. Definitely high on something - Chains LOTS OF CHAINS - And he's Barking. Fucking Barking At the nice family down the street - And then he takes out his vape right in front of his parents and silently offers Karl a hit with a smirk - Cause Karl’s too busy playing good boy - And as Karl’s family looks back, as Wilbur is corralled by his mom - He flips them off with the biggest smirk uou will ever see - Wilbur's kind of an ass - And Karl really wants a hit of that vape.

[autisticcassandracain]

I have many thoughts on the weird phenomena in the DC fandom and the Batfam fandom specifically where probably the majority of people just straight up. haven’t interacted with the source material. and almost all of those thoughts can be summarized as ‘lmao that’s weird and mildly concerning’.

and because I’m annoying I will list them all here right now <3

1. To preface this post, I mean, obviously, comics are inaccessible as all hell, both in the disability kind of way and the ‘you need to understand the concept of hypertime to fully comprehend the DC timeline’ kind of way. Because of this, even if you don’t have a disability that prevents you from reading comics, I don’t think it’s unreasonable to look at the amount of comics you need to read to have even a base understanding of a character and go ‘no thanks <3′ and just enjoy fanart and fanfic in a vacuum. Ultimately, this is fandom, this is supposed to be fun, it doesn’t really matter.

2. That said, it’s VERY weird to me that the majority of this fandom just straight up hasn’t interacted with the source material, and moreover, that it’s considered rude to tell people that they should do so. It’s especially weird considering the amount of fanon-only fans I’ve seen who straight up have a superiority complex over canon. The idea that it’s gatekeeping to tell fans of something to actually interact with canon is just. so weird, and a fundamental misunderstanding of what ‘gatekeeping’ actually entails. 

3. But honestly I’m less interested in discussing the ways in which canon and fanon fans should interact with each other (personally, I think it would be helpful to create separate tags of some kind, but that’d require quite a big overhaul of the current fandom state) than in figuring out how this actually happened in the first place. On the one hand, it’s obvious; long-running superhero comics the way DC writes them have made themselves so thoroughly inaccessible that most people are simply too daunted to even try. Most media has a cohesive beginning and end (or at least, a planned end somewhere). Comics just... don’t.

But I do think it says something that, even among people who are clearly interested in the characters (since they have, you know, entire blogs about them), the effort to get into comics just seems to be too much to even bother. This really doesn’t bode well for the future of DC Comics. Obviously, I am no expert on anything at all ever, but I’d personally be surprised if DC survives beyond the few decades, at least in its current form/without a big overhaul.

4. But on the other hand, I don’t think the confusing state of DC Comics is the only thing to blame here. Fandom has a well-known problem with reducing any character down to archetypes to more easily ship and write fic/make content with. This problem is particularly prominent in fanfic, which, if you read enough of it, you’ll eventually start seeing not just the same tropes and trends, but essentially the same fics over and over again. And not just within the same fandom; everywhere, or every large fandom, at least. 

Fanon Batfam is entirely built on a bunch of those tropes; insecure/depressed sadboy Tim, team mom with optional hidden trauma/emotional problems Dick, bad boy with a heart of gold + sadboy combo Jason, abused sadboy Damian/angry easily-villified-for-fic-reasons monster Damian, good dad Bruce for found family fic and bad dad Bruce for angst fic, etc. This all culminates in a found family dynamic that’s generic and malleable to whatever fic the writer wants to write.

(This isn’t getting into the ship fic, which I avoid like the plague because the vast majority of it is incest, but I’d bet real actual money that the tropes in those fics fall under what is often preferred by the Migratory Slash Fandom.)

By having a decent excuse not to get into canon (the inaccessibility of comics) and a, by now, well-established fanon fandom, many fans feel free to use the batfam fandom as essentially an excuse to write whatever fic with reduced archetypes and tropes they personally feel the itch to write, without having to bother with even consuming a canon. This is compounded by the fact that canon itself is often contradictory and frankly bad, meaning that whatever interpretation of a character you want/need to go for your fic is at least theoretically backed up by canon (for example, you can just as easily cast Bruce as an abusive shithole dad who his kids need to get away from as a loving father figure who cares deeply for his children), which you can always use as a defense if people question your characterization.

5. This focus on fandom trends and tropes over actual creativity or care for the characters is also visible in the way bigotry manifests in this fandom; namely, in literally the exact way you’d expect. The female characters and characters of colour are shuffled to the side, non-existent, vilified, and/or reduced to harmful stereotypes. 

Barbara is probably the one I saw the most often in fanfic, but usually just as ‘Dick’s girlfriend’, and even then, she was often vilified for Dick angst (especially in fics about examining Dick’s trauma from his canon sexual assault; Kori also often gets the short end of the stick in those). After that, probably Stephanie, who fanon fans don’t really seem to know what to do with, so she’s basically just there as comic relief waffle girl, most of the time, though sometimes she can be used to either further Tim angst or further vilify Tim, whatever the fic calls for. Cass has gotten included more in batfam fics as of late, likely in response to critiques of fandom racism for leaving her out, but again, it’s clear people don’t actually know what to do with her. She’s often reduced to a racist stereotype of a quite, stoic therapist for whatever guy du jour needs it. That, or she’s in Hong Kong and just not there. Duke especially gets left in the dust in fandom, usually just being non-existent, but when he’s there, he’s almost always nothing more than the straight man for the actual fun characters to play off of. Talia probably has it the worst, though, and almost universally gets vilified by fanon stans in order to write sadboy Damian.

All of this is extremely predictable behaviour and falls entirely in line with general fandom misogyny and racism; ignoring or vilifying women and characters of colour, or using them as very minor characters at best. The only two characters of colour who aren’t regularly left out of fic are Dick and Damian, who are both also conveniently the two characters most often drawn and written in a whitewashed manner. In addition, there’s a real trend of demonizing Damian in fanon fics where he isn’t written as an abused sadboy, which I’d argue is in no small part due to fandom racism, considering Damian’s behaviour is in no way as bad as Jason’s, who doesn’t get anywhere close to the same demonization and gets woobiefied instead. I also find it convenient that Damian is probably the batboy who receives the most vilification in fic, when he’s the most obviously non-white of the batboys they’re willing to acknowledge.

Fandom often cries for more diversity in canon, only to ignore the diversity already there and focus on the same generic white guys. The batfam fandom is a brilliant example of this.

Which is not to say that fandom racism and misogyny isn’t present in the canon parts of the fandom (and canon itself); it absolutely 100% is. But I’ve found that canon fans are also more likely to like and care about at least one of the characters I’ve listed as ignored/vilified, and are willing to create and consume content for them, whereas fanon fans... aren’t, really. I’ve never seen a fan of fanon Cass the way I’ve seen fans of fanon Dick, for example. Obviously, this could just be by coincidence, or I’ve just surrounded myself with people like that, but it’s been a trend I noticed. Racism and misogyny is present in every part of this fandom and should be addressed as such, but I feel like it manifests the most blatantly in the fanon parts of this fandom. 

(I’d also recommend the articles Migratory Slash Fandom’s Focus and Beige Blank Slates, which expand more on the type of fandom racism I think is especially prominent in the batfam fandom, as well as literally every article in the What Fandom Racism Looks Like series.)

6. All this leads me to conclude that the majority of fanon fans don’t actually like the characters all that much; they’re convenient excuses for them to participate in fandom. Which I also think is, in no small part, a reason why so many of them react so negatively to being told to pick up a comic; they came to this fandom specifically to consume it as a fandom, because they wanted the fandom experience without having to consume a canon. 

This is not a phenomena unique to the batfam fandom (again, see the Migratory Slash Fandom), but it does fascinate me. While fandom is often said to be an experience focusing on transformative art, I think it’s also safe to say that, especially as fandom has become more mainstream, an increasing amount of people are looking to it less as a way to engage with their favourite pieces of media, and more as a type of media in and of itself. I think the reasons for this are similar to the reasons mass media entertainment like the MCU are so popular; you gain a lot of enjoyment out of it with very little risk involved. 

By consuming the same fics of the same characters (or the same archetypes) over and over again, you are rarely at risk of being challenged or even disappointed. It’s often very clear right from the start whether or not a fic will appeal to you, and if it isn’t, it’s easy to just look for another one. It requires less emotional investment than most other types of media, even ‘popcorn media’ like the MCU - or, yes, DC Comics. It’s safe, it’s enjoyable, it’s comforting, like McDonalds, but just like McDonalds, it’s ultimately bland and unsubstantial. 

7, TL;DR. Ultimately, I don’t think it’s like, wrong to enjoy the fanon version of the batfam without wanting to engage with canon, and I certainly don’t think it’s okay to harrass people over it. But I do think it’s in large part based on a desire to interact with fandom rather than other pieces of media because people are scared of being let down by those pieces of media (or worse, just uninterested in actually thinking), which is mildly concerning. 

[scarlettconfetti]

Hi!🥺👋could I request a Donna Troy x artist!Reader fic where the reader and Donna are best friends, and she has a crush on Donna but hasn’t told her how she feels. But Donna eventually catches the reader sketching her and the reader ends up confessing her feelings for her?🥺and they get together in the end?🥺you could do a fic or headcanons, it’s up to you!

a/n: this request is so cute & it has been an honour to write it. i really hope you like it.

this is also dedicated to my friend, an amazing artist who deserves the world. i don’t know what i’d do without them these days & i’m just so lucky to have them in my life. to be honest i’m extremely bad at communicating & i feel like i might have annoyed them a lot & i am so, so sorry. i love them & they are such a wonderful friend.

(TITANS) DONNA TROY X FEM!ARTIST!READER

you’re an artist.

creating art is your hobby, your passion.

normally you like to share your art with your best friend donna.

she loves to see the artwork you create.

she always wants to hang a copy on her walls.

her compliments & encouragement never fail to make you smile.

especially when you’re excited to show her something you’ve spent a long time on & she’ll come to your side.

wrapping an arm around your shoulders as you show her what you’ve created.

she goes with you to any art galleries you want to go to & sometimes just drags you to one because she thought you might like it.

donna is your number one supporter, she cares about everything you create.

if any of the other titans don’t agree with her about the fact that it’s amazing, a masterpiece & should be hung in the most exclusive art galleries, then she’ll kick their asses.

she’s your best friend & you love her.

you love her so much, but have never told her the true extent of your feelings.

however, one day you’re sitting with your (insert art device of your choice) across from donna.

she’s playing with her lasso & glaring at the other titans so murderously & yet beautifully at the same time.

you can’t help but start to sketch her.

“what are you drawing this time, y/n?”

she startles you a little, but you smile at her regardless.

“just drafting something, it’s not important.”

“hey, let me see. anything you create is important to me.”

she’s on her feet & walking towards you, you try to hide your work to no avail.

“it’s in the early stages, like the really early stages it’s not even...” you want to actually disappear into your chair when donna arrives at your side.

she sits next to you like she always does, leaning over to see what you’ve created.

“oh my god, is that me?”

you’re too nervous to look at her.

she doesn’t let you escape from her though & tilts your chin up so you’re looking at her.

donna is beaming at you.

“yeah. i mean, you’re my best friend it would be weird for me not to draw you. i’ve drawn the others before.” you say quickly.

“oh, i know. i think my favourite was the one you drew of kori kicking dick’s ass.”

you both laugh & she hugs you.

her hugs are warm & you instantly feel safe & loved.

“thank you, it’s beautiful.”

“you’re beautiful.”

you immediately want to yeet yourself from existence, but as it turns out there’s nothing you need to feel ashamed of.

donna cups your cheeks & grins at you.

“so are you.”

you’re not sure what to say to her, but you give her a friendly smile back.

“can i kiss you now? because i’ve kinda wanted to do that for quite sometime.”

when you let her kiss you, it is the sweetest first kiss.

gentle, caring & filled with all the love she has for you.

“wanna be girlfriend’s?” she whispers against your lips.

“i thought you’d never ask.”

you’re together from that day onwards & you have a beautiful relationship.

eventually the two of you have a home of your own where donna has an entire room just dedicated to your wonderful art.

a/n: sorry if this is a bit rough, i hope it turned out alright. this was so much fun to write.