#not even the trig part of it

[gl1tchxr]

maybe im not built for trigonometry

[anotherpapercut]

I'm seriously having to resist so hard the urge to block everyone on this website over that math color post. if you think math is red I'm sorry but you're wrong and you're going to math hell also. forever.

[webbluvrsugar]

summer days being Felix Catton’s girlfriend are different…

cw: semi-public sex, dirty talk, light angst (if you squint), felix’s a bit of an ass, hair pulling, no use of y/n.

Somehow, it always resorts to sex.

It can be anywhere.

At the table you dine at, at the maze, between the field, sometimes (rarely) at his room, because Felix is just too impatient, and he wants what he wants when he wants it. You knew about that, you’re used to his careless groping in public, you signed up for it when he asked you to be his girlfriend, but you just weren’t expecting it to be worse when he invited you to spend a summer at Saltburn, claiming his family wants to meet you, when really he just wants to fuck you anywhere, and here, he acts like he owns the place, when really he does, he’s the heir.

He’s got you near the lake this time, the moonlight hits you both, everyone else is sleeping, the grass prickles into your skin as you’re fully naked, your chest hits the ground, your face laid down as your hair runs messy through it, he’s over you, putting it in slowly, you gasp when he’s fully inside, your hands reaching out to grip the grass below you, — he’s big, he’s always been, but somehow it seems like he’s bigger when he’s making you take it slowly instead of the fast pace he usually gives you because you can feel every inch, it makes your eyes roll back when he thrusts in, it makes you so wet that you can hear the noises your pussy makes, his hands are firm on your hips, going down to your ass, spreading your cheeks with a firm grip, watching how your cunt sucks his cock.

“Fuck — you make my dick so hard, look at that.” He speaks like you can actually see it, one of his hands lets go of your ass to reach for your hair, slightly tugging it as he pulls you up, makes you arch your back while he gives a sharp pointed thrust. “And you’re so, so pretty.”

You can’t answer, you can only take it, your lips are parted in a gasp with every thrust he gives you, a moan escaping with every buck of his hips, he knows you too well, knows where to move so you’re easy and compliant, so his cock hits that sweet spot inside of you, and when it does, you let out a particular loud whimper.

“Yeah? Like that?” He laughs, and you can only nod, muttering a small “yeah”, his grip on your hair is tight, he groans when you clench, your pussy’s so tight and it’s sucking him in, he lets go of your ass to run one hand through his hair.

“Little pussy’s so good.”

He likes this, likes having power over you, likes it when you respond like this, no resistance, just a girl to fuck for night, sometimes it makes you think about how easy he could discard you, but it’s not a thing that you can think about when his cock is ripping you open.

“Even made my mum like you,” he points out like it’s shocking news, and you feel special then. “You’re a good one.”

His compliments may be trigging, but it’s not like you can respond because he’s finally quickening his pace, letting go of your hair, his hand dropping down to smack your ass, your head is flush with the grass now, your moans are loud through the air as your fingers finally dig onto the dirt.

He doesn’t care if you’re loud, he doesn’t care if anyone sees you both, he likes it, likes the idea of anyone saying you like this, it’ll only build up his ego.

“Shit — Might have to keep you for more than a summer.” He chuckles.

[msfantasy-comics]

The Perfect Match

Jason Todd x Reader

Summary: A head cannon on how Y/n is the perfect match for Jason.

Warning: this contains references to heavy topics, so if you are easily trigged, then please read at your discretion.

Masterlist - Tip Jar

Jason is one of the most complex people.

His life experience has set him up for some incredible challenges.

By the grace of god for everything that is good, you walked in and made him whole.

You were, Jason’s perfect match.

Understanding and Reliant

Jason has had an incredibly traumatic past, the death of his father and loving step-mother, becoming homeless, feeling rejected by his adoptive family, having his birth mother sacrifice him, being killed by the Joker… seriously… what HASN’T this poor man been through?

With that, Jason needs a partner who can at least, understand that he has a lot of pain to bare, and that Jason had his own unique way in processing that trauma.

Dick: “He tried to force Bruce into killing the Joker.”

Y/n: “Was it wrong of him to get someone else to do his dirty work? Yes, absolutely, however, the Joker did kill him and his mother… need I say more?”

Damian: “He kills criminals- not turning them into Arkham as we are required to.”

Y/n: “Firstly… hypocrisy. Secondly, Arkham is fundamentally broken and objectively not effective as we have established numerous times. Jason has found a permanent solution to criminals who hurt without cause or resolution.”

Tim: “You’re literally excusing his actions.”

Y/n: “I’m not saying I agree with everything Jason has done, but I can understand why Jason has done what he did and why he thinks that way. Agreeing and understanding are completely different words.”

Jason sitting smuggly with his arms crossed.

Jason: “Yeah! Tell them off babe.”

Jason at times feels like you’re the only person who understands him.

But even more so, Jason loves that you defend him in front of others with unwavering support.

But in private you reason with him gently.

Y/n: “Baby, I see why you feel Bruce should’ve avenged your death, but it’s just not part of his philosophies, punishing him for someone else’s crime wasn’t fair… you really should apologise for torturing him, I truely believe Bruce was doing what he thought was best.”

Jason: “… I’ll think about it.”

Loyalty

Jason has severe abandonment issues.

His father and step-mother dying in quick succession, with no extended family willing to take him in.

Meeting his bio-mother, who bargained her own life in exchange for Jason’s. Which Jason graciously accepted despite how undeserving it was.

Bruce ‘replacing’ him quickly after with Tim.

Bruce not avenging his death with the Joker.

Jason was constantly making sacrifices for others and as far as he was concerned

No one returned the favour.

So Jason really values loyalty to the highest degree.

As he believes it’s a rare trait.

Your unwavering love and support is everything Jason could’ve asked for and more.

However…

Jason: “Would you leave me if I ever cheat on you.”

Y/n: “Yes, absolutely.”

Jason: 😲

Y/n: 😐

Communication Skills

Jason, is generally, horrible at communicating his feelings and needs.

His feelings are expressed through action. Not words.

This can often be frustrating but this just means you have to come up with creative ways in which Jason can express himself.

Jason: “Fuck, fuck, fuck everything is fucked!”

Y/n: “Common grumpy pants, let’s go for a drive.”

You’ll often drive Jason to scenic places and you’ll both wonder around in silence before you take him home snuggle up and just watch a movie.

You do all the right things without being asked.

You know what he’s trying to say without him saying a word.

You know that the last thing Jason needs, is to explain himself.

All he needs is reassurance.

Which you do perfectly.

Supportive in his Endeavours

Jason has a … unique take on justice.

He is the lawyer, judge and executioner.

If he finds a criminal guilty of a heinous crime and said criminal is not sorry.

Then that criminal is typically never heard from again.

Whilst you may or may not agree, you both have a burning passion for the betterment of your community.

Don’t forget you both call Gotham your home.

Jason just loves how passionate you are at making the city better for everyone.

His focus is on cleaning up the crime whilst yours is to build a better foundation to better your community and home.

Jason loves that you hold the same values as his own.

[stylesloveclub]

sunshine (part 2)

In which Harry's a little bit nicer, and y/n is very excited to possibly, hopefully, maybe be kissed.

sunshine (part 1)

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

Y/n’s apartment is filled with a bunch of people she doesn’t know. Maddie has a bunch of people over – not really a party, but a fairly large gathering. A few of her school friends, a couple of her co-workers…. nobody that y/n is really close with, though. 

That’s why she locked herself in her room, away from the music and the stuffy, smoke-filled air. She said her polite hello and everything, of course! But… she just wasn’t in the mood to hang out with Maddie’s friends. They weren’t really y/n’s type of people, and the smell of weed is giving her a terrible headache. 

She bunches up her hair in her fists as she stares at the math problem in front of her. She had been able to do integrals just fine with Harry, but when you add trig into the equation? She’s thoroughly fucked. Not even The Organic Chemistry Tutor could help her work through this problem. 

A knock on her door makes her jump. “Come in,” she says politely, though her brows are still furrowed grumpily as she stares at the calculus in front of her. 

“S’this room taken?” a deep voice murmurs. 

She whips her head around, heart fluttering excitedly in her chest. “Harry,” she says softly. “What are you doing here?”

“Maddie invited Blake,” he says, sitting down on her bed. “And Blake invited me.” 

Oh. She should’ve known. 

She rolls away from her desk and faces Harry, who’s making himself more than comfortable on her bed, laying down with his head on her pillow. “Smells like shit out there,” he grunts. 

“Yeah,” she shrugs. She’s accepted that her apartment will always reek of weed, no matter how hard she tries to get rid of the smell. “Did you smoke anything with them?” she asks. 

“No, not in the mood.” Honestly, the only reason he decided to come over with Blake was because he knew that he’d be able to go chill in y/n’s room. Hanging out in Maddie’s smelly apartment was the last thing he wanted to do on a Thursday night, but… he knew y/n would be there, sitting quietly in her room like the good girl she is. “Did you?”

“No.” She fiddles with her fingers. “I– I don’t smoke.”

He snorts. “You don’t smoke but you live with Maddie?” Maddie cannot survive two seconds without her vape. “That doesn’t make sense.” 

“The smell of it gives me a headache,” she tries to explain. 

“Your apartment literally always smells like weed,” he deadpans. 

She blinks. “Yeah…” she trails off quietly. “If I close my door though the smell isn’t that bad.”

Harry rolls his eyes. “What are you working on?” he asks, pointing to the textbook sitting on her desk.

“Um– math.” His lips quirk up, while she pouts. “S’not making sense again.”

“Lemme see,” he says, sitting up. She looks at him for a second, not moving, but when he nods towards her ipad again she scrambles to pick it up and sit next to him on the bed. 

“So, what were you going to try and do?” he asks, grabbing her pen. She’s hyper aware of how their thighs are touching, how she can practically feel the heat radiating off his body.

“Um… I feel like I need to use one of the trig rules here but I can’t think of any that would do anything here.” 

“Okay you’re right… the issue is that none of your sins or cosins fit any of the rules. But you can break cos^3x down into cos^2x times cosx, right?” 

“Okay…” she looks up at him like a lost puppy, still not fully getting it. 

“Do you have any trig identities with cos^2x?”

“Um…” she shuffles through her notes, “ cos^2x equals 1 minus sin^2x?”

He nods his head, “yeah. So now that everything is in terms of sin, you can do a u-sub.”

“Oh,” she blinks quietly, staring down at the paper. “Why’s it so easy when you explain it?” 

He shrugs, leaning back down onto her bed, “y’just need a lot of practice.”

The bottom of his shirt rises up as he puts his hands behind his head, revealing a pair of black ferns that point towards a yummy v-line. Y/n tries her best not to look, but she’s reminded of the night where she showed up to his apartment to pick up Maddie… how he’d been shirtless, his abdomen so chiseled and firm. The swallows on his collarbones, the butterfly that seemed to jump with every breath. She finds herself getting a bit short of breath as she thinks about all of the things hidden beneath his shirt currently.

That’s the thing about being a touch-deprived, romantic girl like y/n. The littlest things get her going. 

He was nice to her once, helped her with her math homework and comforted her when she cried, and now her heart flutters like crazy when she sees him. Just the smallest rise of Harry’s shirt has her spiraling. 

She can’t help but notice the way his biceps bulge subtly as he puts his hands behind his head, and finds herself overwhelmed with the fact that this boy – an attractive boy – was just laying in her bed casually.

She knows it’s no big deal for Harry, he’s probably just in here because the living room stinks and he needs to clear his head. But for her, it’s a lot. She never has boys in her room, has never had a romantic interaction with a boy. Hasn’t even been kissed. It’s always just very friendly – getting notes from a guy in her class, joking around with some of Maddie’s friends. She’s never had a boy talk to her any more than that. 

Harry, though… Harry comes into her room and talks to her even when there’s a whole party going on outside. He kept her company when she was stranded at his apartment, he took her home and took care of her when she was drunk and emotional. It probably meant nothing to him, but the way he grabbed her ankle and told her to lie down when he was helping her into bed was one of the most tender things she’s ever experienced. He put his hand on her waist, and held her arm while she stumbled, he’d guided her through the door with his hand on the small of her waist. 

And when he saw her crying at the library, he came over and talked to her. Comforted her and let her rant about her classes. He’d let her into his room and helped her with her homework, murmured soft praises to her when she got a question right, his arm brushing against hers, or his chest rubbing against her shoulder. 

The stupidest little things, that are probably so insignificant for him, have been on her mind for days.

“Hey,” Harry says, snapping her out of her daydreams. She tears her eyes away from his ferns embarrassedly, hoping he didn’t notice. “What are you thinkin’ about?”

She averts her eyes, looking down at her bedsheet. “Um, nothing.”

He quirks his brows. “Nothing?”

“Mhm,” she nods her head innocently.

‘Really?” he asks again, his lip twitching with the slightest hint of amusement, sitting up on his elbows now. He raises himself up so that they’re face to face. He’s not an idiot.

She bites her lip nervously, and her heart stops when Harry’s eyes flicker down to watch. He stares at her with a strange look in his eye… a glimmer in them that she’s only ever read about in books. His eyebrows furrow as though he’s deep in thought, eyes still glued to her lips. 

She wonders if she’s hallucinating when he leans in. 

She thought she was being silly for starting to feel things for him – that she was just being classic y/n, crushing on a guy even though she knows she’s too shy to ever make a move. Now, with how close he is, she can see every freckle on his tan skin, every lash that frames his bright green eyes. She breathes with a tight chest, swallowing thickly as her eyes flicker between his, wide and curious. His eyes still haven’t left her lips.

Her heart stutters as his large hand makes its way to her thigh, his palm warm and smooth, gently grazing her skin. He unconsciously inches closer and closer, incapable of pulling his eyes away from her mouth. 

He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, a force of habit, and finally looks her in the eye. His irises have turned a dark green, pupils dilated, and his breathing has deepened. She has no idea what’s going on in his head, but he looks serious. Deep in thought. His hand still rests on her thigh, the contact sending sparks of electricity all over her body, especially when his fingers gently start to trail upwards. 

Her eyes flutter shut as she tries to take deep, calm breaths, but he’s gotten so close that she can feel the puff of his breathing against her lips, inhaling his every exhale. It makes her lightheaded. He’s so close… so, so close…

A loud pounding on the door makes y/n jump away from him. 

Her eyes are blown out when she jerks them open, her heart pounding harshly with anticipation that’s been left unsatisfied. “Who is it?” she calls out with a shaky voice. 

Harry hasn’t moved an inch. He sits there and stares at her, hand still on her thigh. 

“Is Harry in there?” Maddie yells. “Blake is ready to go.”

He brings a hand up and tugs on her bottom lip with his thumb, then watches it bounce back into place, hypnotizing himself with the sight. Y/n, unable to get any words out, sits there and watches him as he stares at her lips.

“Hellooo?” Maddie obnoxiously yells again.

Harry’s nose flares and he shuts his eyes, frustratedly pulling himself away from y/n. She says nothing, still in a daze, watching as he leaves her bed. He stands and runs a hair through his messy curls, before heading towards the door and opening it. Maddie stands in front of the door with her fist raised, ready to knock on the door again. 

“Calm down,” he says, eyeing her coldly. Maddie rolls her eyes and walks away to tell Blake that she found Harry.

He turns around for a moment and glances at y/n. “See ya,” he says. 

She blinks, her hand coming up to touch her lips, searching for some confirmation that this was real and she hadn’t imagined it. “Bye,” she nearly whispers, breathless. 

The door shuts with a click and she finds herself alone with her thoughts. Her math homework sits abandoned on her bed, and will probably remain untouched for the rest of the night.

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

Finally, y/n has Harry all to herself.

She’d been dancing around him all night, constantly catching his eye from across the room in a game of cat and mouse. He watched her from the corner of the room he was stationed in with his dark eyes, a teasing smirk on his face. He knew what she was doing – trying to distract him. It was working. 

He watched her as she mingled and talked, watched as she sipped on her drink, watched as she weaved her way through the passes of people in her apartment, pushing past the hot bodies and sweaty skin until she disappeared in her room. 

He followed her in, less than a minute later.

She hears him walk into the room, the sound of him turning the lock and his heavy footsteps approaching her. A shiver runs down her spine when his hands grab her shoulders from behind, goosebumps rising on her arms almost instantaneously. His firm front pushes against her back, toned stomach pressed against the curve of spine. 

His fingers are warm and gentle on her shoulders, comforting yet teasing at the same time. He doesn’t hold her firmly – his featherlight touch more tantalizing than any other form of contact. These light, delicate brushes of his skin keep her on her toes, never knowing what to expect next. She holds her breath as his fingers travel from her shoulders, down the length of her arms. 

Suddenly, she feels his lips against her ear. She can’t help the soft, aroused breath that leaves her as his lips skim the shell of her ear. He chuckles, low and taunting, and she can feel the deep reverberations of his chest against her back.

“I’ve been waiting f’this,” he murmurs softly. His warm breath tickles her ear, sending waves of pleasure straight down to her core, and his hands have migrated from her arms to her hips now. He grips them, fingers digging into the soft flesh there, and pulls her back, grinding her into his front. She swallows a whimper down, eyes fluttering shut. A hard bulge presses against her ass, and she can’t resist the urge to press back on it, wriggle her hips even though Harry’s holding her still. “You’ve been teasing me…” he presses a kiss right underneath her earlobe. “Playing all innocent when I know you’re actually filthy.” Another kiss, and another kiss, trailing his lips down the curve of her neck.

She lets out a pathetic, shaky whimper, and it makes him chuckle tauntingly. “Your head is just filled with dirty thoughts, isn’t it?” Her knees go weak as he wraps a hand around her throat, tilting her head to the side so that he can look at her. “Bet you’re just dying for me to fuck you.” 

Her eyes are wide and round, and her entire body turns into jelly. The only reason she’s standing right now is because Harry’s holding her up. She can’t get any words out, pathetically wrapped around his finger. She looks up at him with a pleading gaze, begging him to do something… anything…

The sound of her 8 AM alarm yanks her straight out of dreamland.

Her eyes are bleary as she frantically looks around her bed, gathering her bearings. She has to triple check that Harry isn’t anywhere in her room – looking at every corner and patting around her sheets as well – before she can confirm that it was all a dream. 

Oh gosh. This is like the third time this week! 

She doesn’t mean to be having these dreams. It's a rather embarrassing situation for her and she honest to god would much rather just read a couple of steamy romance books about fictional vampires to get the horniness out of her system, instead of having repeated wet dreams about a very real Harry. 

They make her feel icky because, like– isn’t it a bit disrespectful to be having such dirty thoughts about someone who’s just been helping her with her math homework and potentially also kissing her had they not been interrupted? Like what are the boundaries there? You can’t really ask someone for consent to having wet dreams about them… but it’s not like she was consenting to those dreams either! She can’t control what her subconscious mind decides to stir up for her nightly dream! 

She tries to logic it out – how would she feel if Harry was having wet dreams about her? Well… actually the thought of it makes her a little bit excited, cos that would mean he likes her, right? Ugh, no, she’s getting distracted!

It’s all very typical horny virgin behavior. Ever since her almost kiss with Harry, her mind has been in shambles. Her first issue is trying to wrap her head around the entire thing – had Harry actually wanted to kiss her? She hadn’t made that up, right? 

She’s replayed the night a hundred times in her head. Remembers exactly how his hand felt on her thigh, how he’d stared at her lips, how their eyes had fluttered shut, how their noses brushed… all the things she’s read about in her books! All the ingredients for a first kiss! 

How tragic that it’d been interrupted. She thinks that’s why her brain has been overly active this past week – her subconscious has been trying to fulfill the insatisfaction she felt when she jumped away from Harry, just seconds before their lips touched. It feels like she’s been edged over and over again and been denied an orgasm five times – but the orgasm is her first kiss and she’s being edged by Maddie, who stole that kiss away by knocking on her door! 

She flops around in her bed frustratedly, smushing her face into her pillow with a sad groan. What if Harry doesn’t wanna kiss her the next time he sees her? What if this was a one time opportunity? She doesn’t want to sound desperate… but she really wanted to kiss Harry! She’d be really sad if it was just a whim of the moment kinda thing. 

But also… if it wasn’t just a one time thing… if he did actually want to kiss her… well how was she gonna end up in the situation to be kissed by him again? 

She’s thinking about this way too hard, way too early in the morning. And she’s uncomfortably wet from her dream.

She needs to get herself sorted out. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

The chair in front of y/n screeches loudly as it’s pulled from under the table she’s sitting at. She jumps at the sound of it, having been too engrossed in her book to be aware of what’s going on around her. When she looks up, she finds Harry standing at her tiny table in the campus coffee shop.

“Can I sit here?” he asks, his jaw tight. He’s wearing a gray Kendrick Lamar hoodie with the words DAMN. written in bold font across the front, his curly hair messily hidden underneath. All the other tables in the shop were taken (it tends to get pretty busy at noonish when everyone needs somewhere to sit and study), and Harry needs somewhere to sit before his next lecture.

She nods, eyes wide like a baby sheep. It’s quite jarring to just randomly see the guy you’ve been having sexy dreams about – especially for someone like y/n who apparently can’t be normal about having a crush or having an almost first kiss. She hopes she’s acting normal enough to not raise any suspicion. 

Trying to not get distracted by his green eyes and pretty pink lips, y/n looks down at the table, but finds herself instead staring at Harry’s hands. He has nice hands, she thinks to herself. The cross tattoo on his left hand compliments his tan skin nicely, and he has these thick knuckles that she just wants to run her fingers over. In one of his hands he holds a coffee cup, and even though she and him both got a medium sized coffee, his drink looks smaller, dwarfed in his massive hands. His thumb is fingering the lid of his drink mindlessly, and she remembers how that same thumb had touched her lips just over a week ago… how he’d tugged on her bottom lip and hypnotized himself with the sight of it bouncing back into place. And while she’s on that train of thought, she can’t help but remember how his hands portrayed such a significant role in her dream last night. Hadn’t she imagined them being wrapped around her throat–?

Harry clears his throat. Y/n glows with heat. She has absolutely no capability of being normal around him. “Sorry, what?” She hadn’t heard a word he’d said in the past minute, too caught up in her own thoughts. 

He smirks. Is she always this distracted? “Just asked how it’s going.”

“Oh! Oh, yeah– good, I’m good,” she closes the book, folding the corner of the page she’s on as a bookmark. “How about you?”

He shrugs. “Just got out of class. Needed a coffee.”

“What’d you get?”

“Just a black coffee.”

She can’t stop herself from wrinkling her nose, “Ew.” 

 He quirks a brow, “Well what’d you get?” “Vanilla latte with oat milk.” Yeah. She would be an oat milk girl.

Considering their recent frequency in seeing each other and his newfound… fondness towards her, he doesn’t find it difficult to start picking and prodding at her, getting to know her. He realizes Blake was right – she wasn’t a super duper shy girl, she probably had just been scared of him. Once he started talking to her and smiling every once in a while, it seems like she loosened up. What used to be painfully awkward conversations have now become free flowing and casual.

He picks up the book she was reading and reads the cover. “Book Lovers by Emily Henry. Awfully fitting for you.”

She furrows her brow, already offended. She hates it when people make fun of her books – especially boys who make fun of her for reading romance. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“You’re a book lover, aren’t you? Can never find you without your nose in a book.” 

She relaxes. “Oh… yeah,” a soft chuckle escapes her. “Yeah, I guess I’m a book lover.”

“You think I’d like this one?” he asks, flipping through the first few pages. 

“Um… maybe.” She can’t imagine Harry being a huge fan of her soft romance books. “Are you a reader?”

“God, no,” he puts the book down. “Not smart enough for that.”

Her jaw drops. “You are totally smart, Harry! Way smarter than me!” she exclaims.

“M’just good at math,” he shrugs, “You’re little miss smartie, with your color coded notes. Reading your books for fun.” 

She grows shy. Part of her thought that Harry thought she was stupid – not the over-emotional-girl-who-cries-too-much kind of stupid, but rather the kind of stupid that makes you wonder how she even got into this school because she’s doing so bad in math. 

It was a massive hit to her girlboss mentality when she had to ask Harry for help, and even though Harry never actually made her feel dumb when answering her questions… she just had this mean voice in the back of her head that constantly nagged her, convincing her that Harry thought she was a stupid girl who should just give up and drop out. And ignoring that voice is really hard, so…  it was just nice to hear that he didn’t think she was a stupid little baby. It made that mean voice in her head shut up. 

“Um… by the way. My next calc midterm is next Friday. I was wondering if, um…” she tucks her hair behind her ear nervously. 

He fills in the rest for her. “Do you want to revise together this weekend?” 

“If it’s not too much trouble,” she says bashfully. “Your tutoring is super helpful.” 

“You can come over on Saturday,” he sips on his coffee. “No trouble.”

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

“Is this right?” Y/n shows her work to Harry, and he nods. They’re both on his bed, except Harry’s lying down with his head on a pillow, scrolling through tiktok, while y/n’s hunched over her ipad. She’s been doing practice problems for the past three hours, asking Harry for help every once in a while. That's how it’s been most of the night – her study session is mostly just him checking her work to make sure she’s not doing anything funky and giving her hints if she’s stuck. 

She’s studied a lot in the past two weeks and luckily doesn’t need Harry to be guiding her through every problem, which makes her really happy. And she’s only gotten a couple of the practice problems wrong! Some of them were particularly tricky and had her stumped, but that’s why she has Harry. He helped her out of roadblocks and kept her motivated. Without him here, she probably would’ve given up after the first question that she didn’t know how to solve.

“You should take a break,” he says.

She’d refused to take any breaks since she got here – determined to finish the practice test that her professor had posted while she had Harry next to her to help. Now that she finished all the problems, she locks her ipad and puts it on Harry’s bedside table. She leans back on one of Harry’s pillows and copies Harry, holding her phone above her face. Except instead of scrolling through tiktok, she opens up her kindle app and starts reading.

He sees the tiny font on her screen from the corner of his eye. “Reading?” he asks.

“Mhm,” she shuffles around on his bed, getting comfortable. 

He thinks it’s kind of cute that she’s always reading. “Is it the same one as last time? Book Lovers?”

“No, I finished that one yesterday! This is by the same author though. S’called Beach Read.”

“What’s it about?” he turns off his own phone and sits up, turning to look down at y/n. Her hair is splayed across his pillows, and her eyes glimmer softly in his bedroom lighting.

She feels a little shy describing one of her favorite books to Harry – she’s often been ridiculed by her friends for being so lovey dovey and reading her silly romance books. But he seemed genuine when he asked. “Um– there are these two writers. The girl writes romance and the guy writes like these serious fiction books. And they’re kinda rivals.” 

He hums. “Let me read a little bit,” he looks down at the screen of her phone. “I tightened my thighs around the sides of his body–” he reads aloud, before she yanks her phone out of his sight.

“No!” she yelps, turning her phone off and practically throwing it across the room. “You are not allowed to read it!” 

He laughs, a fully amused belly laugh, and the sound is beautiful but she doesn’t allow herself to revel in it due to her embarrassment. “What are you reading?” he giggles.

“Oh my gosh,” she hides her face in her hands. 

“Didn’t expect you to be reading such dirty stories,” he teases, “I thought you were a good girl.”

“It’s not all dirty!” she defends herself. “It’s– it’s sweet! It’s a love story… it’s romantic.” Her voice gets quiet near the end. 

Harry’s laughter bubbles down and he’s left with a smirk on his face, while y/n lays in front of him, an embarrassed pout on her face. “M’only teasing,” he says as he reaches a hand out to rest on her thigh, not wanting her to look so sad. “Read whatever you want. Seems like a cute book, maybe I should pick it up, hm?” 

Her mind goes a little blank when his hand meets her thigh, his palm warming her skin once more – just like that night he’d almost kissed her. “Y-yeah, you might like it,” she clears her throat. “S’one of my favorites.”

That same look glazes over Harry’s eyes – that dark look, as if he’s deep in thought. 

She swallows thickly. Could this be it? Her second chance at a kiss with Harry?

She pushes herself up on her elbows, more alert. Her palms feel sweaty and she finds her fingers nervously toying with his comforter. A million thoughts are racing in her head as she searches Harry’s eyes, flickering back and forth, trying to see what he might be thinking of. He’s so hard to read. She feels like she’s drowning in his eyes. 

Almost as if he can read her thoughts, he leans forwards. She hopes she doesn’t look like an over-eager puppy, but her eyes light up and practically beg him to come closer, to just kiss her! He smiles to himself a bit, and obliges. 

With y/n laying on his bed, propped up by her elbows, and Harry already having been sat up on the bed, he doesn’t need to move that much closer for their faces to be aligned. He’s leaning over her, one hand holding him up, while the other hand comes up to her cheek.

She gasps when his large palm comes up to cup her face, his palm on her jaw and fingers sliding into her hair. He inches closer and closer, his eyes fluttering shut when his nose brushes against hers ever so lightly. She can feel the puff of his breathing against her lips, breathing in each of his exhales as she tries to stay calm. She forces her eyes shut, her entire body alive with butterflies.

He wets his bottom lip with his tongue, a force of habit, and nudges his nose against hers. She tilts her head to the side. He teases her for a second, gives her the chance to pull away by just grazing their lips together teasingly, and feels her sharp intake of breath at the contact. He can’t help but smirk against her lips.

With her eyes closed, she’s hyper aware of how it feels. The way his curls brush against her face… the warmth of his palm as he tilts her head upwards… the wetness of his lips as he finally… connects them… in a kiss. 

This was it. Her first kiss. 

There’s not one thought in her head, a stark contrast to how she’d spent countless sleepless nights overthinking the mechanics of kissing someone. She’d always worried that she’d mess it up, that she’d freeze and wouldn’t know what to do. 

But falling into the gentle caress of Harry’s lips is easy. Her nerves spill, her muscles relax, and she just lets herself melt against Harry’s lips. He suckles on her bottom lip gently, folds their lips together, pulls away with soft clicks just to reattach a second later. She sighs dreamily into his mouth and lets herself fall back into the bed, her head against his pillow. He doesn’t let their lips disconnect, following her down and climbing on top of her so that one of his legs is stationed between her thighs. 

She wonders if all kisses are this magnificent, or if it’s just Harry. Is it normal to feel your heart stuttering in your chest, or feel electricity flowing through your veins at just the touch of someone’s lips? Would she always lean her face into the palm of his hand, and let herself relax in the bliss of feeling his lips against hers?

It’s wonderful – a head-spinning, heart-fluttering, electrifying kiss. 

Harry’s hand that isn’t holding himself up comes down to rest on her thigh, goosebumps rising under his touch. His kisses start to grow more pressured, inhaling sharply and breathing heavily against her, tongue licking at the seam of her lips eagerly. His nose bends against her face as he tilts his head to the side, eyebrows furrowed in concentration as he tastes the sweet chapstick on her lips. Her skin is warm and soft and plushy underneath his touch, and her lips are addictive. 

He uses his grip on her thigh to hike her leg up, fitting his hips between hers and sliding his hand up and down her leg tantalizingly. He can feel her losing her breath, so he forces himself off of her lips and starts kissing down her neck. He skims his lips down, presses wet, hot kisses on her throat, his every breath making her core clench. 

She squeezes her eyes shut, eyes rolling into the back of her head, and takes heavy breaths, chest rising and falling shakily. Her hands come up to grab onto him – just hold onto him in any way – and the first thing her hands land on are his biceps. His firm, toned biceps, that are flexing as he hovers above her. In an effort to feel more grounded, she squeezes her fingers, but it just ends up making her even more lightheaded because god he’s so strong and muscular and he’s kissing her right now! 

She’s overwhelmed and her head is spinning and it feels like she’s in a dream, an amazing dream that feels so good and that she never wants to end – she can smell his aftershave and his shampoo and his overall yummy boy smell, and her lips are tingling with the aftermath of his kiss. She’d always imagined what it would be like to have her neck kissed and sucked on by a boy and now that it’s happening it’s better than she could’ve ever imagined, and she’s so sensitive, and it’s just different to have a real person touching you and kissing you all over, especially someone that she’s majorly attracted to and–

Harry presses his hips into her center and, wow, if it isn't the most arousing thing she’s ever experienced. Excitement and anticipation fill her veins… but then a trickle of doubt starts to filter in. She’d only just had her first kiss, was she ready to go any further than that? 

‘H-Harry,” she says, but it’s more of a moan because his fingers squeeze her hips and he’s kissing right underneath her earlobe right now and it’s sending shivers down all over her body. “M-maybe we should stop.”

“Hm?” He pulls away from where he was buried in her neck, his eyes blown out and lips slicked with a mix of their spit. 

“I-I’m not ready to have sex with you, if that’s what you want.”

“That’s okay,” he says, licking his lips. “I could just eat you out.”

And, god, if that doesn’t make her whimper. “I– no, I um…” she stammers over herself.

He smiles. “What is it?” he murmurs, an amused lilt to his voice.

“I… I haven’t done any of… that.” She swallows, looking at him nervously. Her heart, which had once been racing with excitement, now pounds with apprehension. This is the first time she’s been in this position and she’s feeling so vulnerable. 

It’s extremely scary and nerve-wracking and Harry’s silence is not doing anything to help her feel better.

“You’re a virgin?” he asks after a beat.

She nods. She feels insecure under his gaze, and even though she’s fully clothed, she feels totally exposed.

He laughs. “Are you really?” he asks again.

Her eyes flash with hurt. She just shared something extremely intimate with him, shared her very first kiss with him… and he was laughing at her?

She feels her heart drop, and her cheeks flame with insecurity. 

“Um–" she swallows around the lump developing in her throat. "I should go,” she says, barely over a whisper. She puts her hands on his chest and pushes him away, sliding out from underneath him and climbing out of his bed. Grabbing her ipad, she shoves it into her backpack, along with her notes that were scattered along his desk and her phone lying at the foot of his bed. Her cheeks burn hot and her heart is aching in her chest.

“What?” He doesn’t challenge her when she pushes him away, but he stares at her with his eyebrows furrowed, confused at the sudden mood shift. “What happened?”

She doesn’t answer. Her throat is hurting, the painful lump a tell-tale sign of the tears getting ready to fall.

“Y/n?” he asks again, getting off his bed and walking towards her. All amusement has left his face, brows furrowed in a concerned manner. She shrugs him off when he approaches her.

“Don’t.” She feels embarrassed, her mind only filled with insecurity. He was making fun of her for being a virgin, teasing her. As if she wasn’t already embarrassed enough about it herself.

She’d planned on calling Maddie to come pick her up when she was ready to go, but it doesn’t matter anymore. She leaves his room hastily, before any of the tears can fall, and nearly runs out of his apartment. 

She’ll walk home. 

˙· .° ｡  ˚ ｡  ° . · ˚ ˙ · . ° ｡ ˚ ｡  ° . · ˙ · .° ｡ ˚ ｡ °.  · ˙ ‧̍̊  

OMG!!! HOPE U GUYS LIKED ITTTTTT HEHEHEHE :-) part 3 is up on my patreon already and will come to tumblr next saturday (augsut 5) pleeeeaaaase lmk what u think and give her a rb and a comment i LOVE U GUYS SO SO MUCH!!!!

sunshine (part 3) - in which y/n just wants to get this whole virginity thing out of the way, and Harry needs to grovel a bit before she forgives him.

sunshine masterlist

[eoe-1379]

Avalanche Part 1

(Trying to get used to 2nd person, while continuing the story. Bear with me. I also put a lot less work into this. Writing it in tumblr drafts and doing only the most basic of editing. I've given up trying to make it perfect I just want the ideas out of my head.)

Link to Part 2

This one is all fluff and fun! Not explicit, but the next part will be, which is why I'm leaving the 18+ warning up on this one.

A small warning for mentions of drugs and alcohol

The year was 1986. You’re in college now, just trying to get through your preliminaries before you have to finally pick a major. Unlike you, Caleb had everything planned. He was almost done with his degree and already had a job lined up at the DAA for when he graduated. It was different for you. You didn’t excel at school, at anything, the way Caleb did. He was a born natural at whatever he tried his hand at. Meanwhile, you needed a tutor to pass entry-level trig.

Caleb wasn’t happy about your choice, but Zayne was the smartest person you knew. Book smart, at least. Plus Caleb was so busy now with graduation prep and getting in his hours on the simulator he didn’t have the time to teach you the principles of imaginary numbers. Zayne did.

Zayne was going for his PhD, and he too was almost finished with his schooling. Next would be his residency, and he wasn’t looking forward to that. Mingling around with the other young doctors and nurses had never been where he felt comfortable. He wished he could just skip to the end where he was established in his career, but that wasn’t the way things worked. He was all too pleased when you asked him for help with something basic like Trigonometry. Math, and you, were definitely his comfort zone.

“I just don’t understand where I’m even going to need this.” You groan, pushing the textbook away with an air of disgust.

“You likely won’t once you graduate, but you will if you want to cross that stage.” Zayne put his pencil between his teeth as he pulled the book back to rest in front of you on the dining table. “One more try, then we’ll take a break. Let’s focus on this equation…”

“Ugh” You toss your head back and sink into the chair like a toddler. “Couldn’t we take a break now? We’ve been at it for hours, doc.”

Zayne can’t help the smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. He liked that you called him Doctor, even though he was still years away from being one.

“Alright, but not too long.” He leaned back, relaxing. “Your breaks have a habit of hijacking the day.”

The sound of keys at the door makes both of you turn. Caleb is home.

He enters the apartment with his head bowed, a sack of groceries dangling from his wrist as he wriggles the keys from the lock. When he looks up and meets your gaze, his brow furrows.

“Another study sesh?” He asks, walking into the kitchen to set the groceries on the counter.

“We’ve almost solved one equation.” You jest.

“That so?” Caleb says absently, stocking the fridge. He seems distracted, avoiding your gaze.

You get up from the table and walk over to him, wrapping your arms around his waist.

Behind you, Zayne takes a long sip of Dr. Pepper and watches the wall.

“Welcome home.” You muse, snuggling into Caleb’s chest. “I missed you.”

Caleb softens, wrapping his arms around you as he presses a light kiss to the top of your head.

“Missed you too, pipsqueak.” You watch his eyes flick across to the dining table before settling back on you. “I thought we could celebrate tonight, just the two of us.”

You glance over your shoulder to where Zayne is awkwardly trying to look occupied.

“What exactly are we celebrating?” You ask in a softer tone.

“I finally finished my hours on the simulator.” Caleb’s prideful smile breaks through his demeanor. “I bought us some champagne to share, and I was going to cook a special dinner but…” he trailed off before raising his voice to include Zayne in the conversation, “I only got enough for two. Sorry man.”

“That’s alright.” Zayne went to stand, brushing off his shirt, “We can finish studying later.”

You move away from Caleb, feeling guilty for making Zayne feel so unwelcome. You turn back, eyes pleading. Caleb sighs.

“No, wait,” he gives you a stern look, but when you don’t relent your pouting he continues, “Stay. I heard you’ve got something to celebrate as well.”

You whip around, finding Zayne frozen in the tiny apartment foyer.

“What’s he talking about?”

Zayne sighs. He’d been hoping to avoid this.

“Oh, nothing extravagant.” He breathed, bashfully rubbing his neck.

“That’s not what I heard.” Caleb went on, “I heard you saved some chick's life in the food court.”

Your eyes widen in awe.

“What?! Zayne! Why didn’t you say something?”

He winced slightly as you tugged on his sleeve, making apologetic eye contact with your boyfriend over your shoulder.

“It isn’t a big deal.” He shrugged, “She choked, that’s all.”

Caleb looked at Zayne knowingly but did not correct him further.

“Either way, you’re welcome to celebrate with us. This one hardly eats what I make her anyways, I’m sure we’ll have plenty of food for you.”

You shoot Caleb a glare.

“It’s not my fault I can’t keep up with your portion sizes, I don’t have that kind of metabolism.” You turn back to Zayne, grabbing his cold hand in yours. “Do stay.” You plead with a smile. “I promised you a break, after all, and if you go home you’ll just start working again and you know it.”

Zayne exhaled heavily through his nose, holding his coat in one hand, you in the other, one foot still pointed toward the door. You watch as his brow creases and relaxes with thought as if he’s weighing every outcome in his mind. Finally, he speaks.

“I suppose I could stay for dinner.” He set his coat back on the rack and moved away from the door.

“Bitchin'!” You shake him a little with excitement, planting a kiss on his cheek. The action wasn’t planned and startled you almost as much as it startled him, but nothing prepared you for Caleb’s burning stare. “Sorry.” You say, backing off. “I get too enthusiastic sometimes.”

“No worries.” Zayne hums, rubbing the spot on his cheek with a barely concealed grin.

“Who wants a drink?” Caleb interjects from the kitchen, already pouring a glass.

“Me!” you and Zayne say in unison.

Night sneaks up on all of you. The dining table was littered with messy dishes and dirty napkins, two empty bottles of champagne, and three half-full glasses remaining.

You twirl yours between nimble fingers, watching the golden liquid swirl. Your head feels heavy, your cheeks warm, and you aren't wasted but you're buzzing.

Zayne is also flushed, leaning back in his seat laughing at another one of Caleb’s anecdotes. The two men warmed to each other rather quickly once the alcohol started flowing. Laughing and joking in the way that men do. You cherished seeing them together like this, your two favorite people in the whole world. You couldn't wipe the smile from your face if you tried.

Caleb took another sip, still humming in amusement.

“I tried to tell Patrick he couldn't handle the altitude but he just wouldn't listen.” the pilot-to-be shook his head, “I've never seen anyone vomit that much in the simulator.”

“Sounds like a classmate of mine.” Zayne mused, “He gets sick at the sight of blood, yet wants to be a doctor? I don't think I will ever understand.”

Both men reach for the bottle, their hands colliding on the glass before pulling away clumsily.

“Sorry, you go ahead.”

“No, it's all yours.”

You sigh, grabbing the empty bottle and giving it a shake for their benefit.

“It's empty, dinguses,” you say with a sloppy grin. “Should someone go to the store for more?”

“No need,” Caleb grunts a bit as he stands, heading to the bedroom for a couple of confusing moments before reappearing with an ornate glass bottle of brown liquid. “I keep this for rainy days. Pip can't handle it, but what about you?”

Zayne smirks, sliding his glass over.

“I do have a fondness for whiskey,” he replies.

You fold your arms in a pout.

“What? And I'm just expected to sober up?”

Caleb smiles, pouring Zayne a shot.

“Check your bedside table.”

You smile at him in question, but he gestures you off with a nod of his head. “Go on.”

With an excited leap, you lurch from your chair, skipping to the bedroom to hunt for your present...whatever it is.

After some glancing around in the dark, you spot it. Illuminated by the smallest sliver of moonlight, near the shadow of your lamp, is a crinkled stick made of paper. You can smell its contents the moment you lay eyes on it, a heavenly sour blend of earth that you knew all too well. You snatch the joint without hesitation and fish a lighter from the drawer. Caleb always got you the best Kush. You didn't know where from, and you didn't care a wink. His little gifts were the only thing getting you through college free of a mental breakdown.

After blazing up and taking a couple much much-needed long hits, you saunter back into the living area with a more relaxed gait. The tension in your shoulders melts as the herb stings your lips, smoke trickling from your nostrils as you plop back down happily in your seat.

Caleb smiles over you in that warm, endearing way that makes your insides dance. He looked so handsome in the dim light. His purple eyes sparkled with mischief as he tossed back another shot.

You can't restrain your affections any longer.

Once Caleb was back in his seat, you moved to his lap, straddling him with a grin and a kiss. He welcomes you with a warm hand cupping your ass, squeezing just hard enough to hurt a little, and you loved it.

“Let’s all play a game.” you giggle, turning around on top of him so your upper body weight is supported by the table while he still cradles your hips. You look at Zayne with a warm smile, one he can never say no to. “It will be fun.”

Zayne looks at Caleb for a long moment before he looks back at you.

“What do you have in mind?”

You sit up, taking another long drag on your joint.

“Truth.” You lean forward again, breasts almost spilling from the top of your shirt. “Or dare.”

“Pipsqueak,” Caleb utters your name like a warning, his thumb stroking circles over the denim of your jeans. “I’m not so sure that’s a good idea.”

“Oh come on!” You whine, throwing your head against the polished wood. “It’s not a true celebration unless we do something silly.” You look at them both with doe eyes. “Please?”

“Fine, but let’s move to the couch.” Caleb picks you up, and drops you on your feet, patting your ass playfully as you skip toward the sofa.

Zayne follows, drink in hand.

Once the three of you are settled on the cushions comfortably, Caleb and Zayne share another shot over your head, cheering their glasses with a clink.

You pull your legs up, curling them underneath you so you don’t have to crane so much to see their faces.

“I’ll go first. Ask me.” You turn to Caleb expectantly, batting your lashes as he tucks your hair back.

“Truth or dare?” He hums, still gazing deep into your eyes.

“Dare.”

Caleb grins.

“I dare you to take a shot with us.”

Rolling your eyes, you smile. You saw that one coming a mile away. Caleb offered you his glass as he picked up the Jameson, pouring one out for you and Zayne and keeping the bottle for himself.

You hated whiskey. It was too rich, too strong, and the bittersweet sting of it lingered on your tongue for hours to come. Yet, you tossed it back without a single complaint, handing the glass back to your boyfriend with a superior smirk.

“My turn.” you shift, spinning on the cushion to face Zayne. “Truth or dare?”

“Truth, I suppose.” Zayne wipes a drop from his lip with a calculated swipe of his fingers.

“What happened with the girl in the food court?”

He smiled, almost laughing. He should have expected the question from you.

“She choked, that was true. Only, I wasn't present for that. The man who gave her the Heimlich punctured her lung. He couldn't have known, but she had dislocated a rib earlier at her rugby game. The resulting pressure from him trying to save her ended up putting her at even more dire risk.” His brow knit together as he recalled the events, his smile fading, “When I got there she wasn't breathing. I had to perform emergency thoracentesis to remove the excess fluid while we waited for paramedics.”

“Shit.” Caleb hissed under his breath, taking another drink.

“Whats, Thora-cent..ysis?” you ask, clumsily fumbling over the word.

Zayne lights up just slightly, inching closer to you to explain with his hands. He touches a spot between your lower ribs, and you twitch as it tickles.

“I poke a hole right here, to release the fluid buildup. Once she could breathe again, I kept the pressure on the wound until the medics arrived.” he removes his cold hand from your side, reaching for his drink again. He was starting to look red in the face. You wondered how drunk he was.

“That's incredible Zayne.” you breathe in awe, “They really should just make you a surgeon already.”

He chuckled.

“I still have a ways to go before I get there.” his green eyes flick up to Caleb over your shoulder. “Truth or dare, captain?”

The word hangs for a while in the air between them. An old taunt from childhood, in those formative years before Caleb matched Zayne in size, and could still be teased without consequence. You feel Caleb tense beside you, but his expression remains playful.

“Dare,” he commands.

“How predictable.” Zayne scoffs, tapping his chin as he thinks. “Alright. I dare you…to let me kiss your girlfriend.”

“Zayne!” You gasp, covering your mouth both from the shock but also to hide your unshakable grin.

Caleb, to your surprise, laughs.

“Trying to get me out this early in the game? Nuh-uh.” he chided, pulling your face forcefully into his lips as he planted a passionate, slobbering kiss on you. When he released you, he smeared his spit across your mouth with a wicked grin, practically pushing you into Zayne’s arms. “She's all yours.”

Zayne raised an eyebrow. He hadn't truly expected Caleb to allow this, he just wanted to win the game. Though, as you look up at him patiently, he wonders if he maybe had ulterior motives after all.

Zayne’s cool fingers brush your cheek before gently pulling you toward him. His arms wrapped around you, and he shifted to let you settle in his lap as he bent to meet your lips. Your breath catches as his tenderness soaks into your bones, the kiss light and sensitive. He doesn't stop after one or two. No. He holds you firm until he's had his fill of little kisses, passionate in his quiet way.

By the time he's done with you, your chest is heaving, and your face is red. You're afraid to look back at your boyfriend, who undoubtedly regrets his decision to stay in the game. Yet when you finally look at Caleb again, he seems unphased, tossing back another shot with only a subtle flush under his eyes.

“Truth or dare?” he asks you bluntly, keeping his eyes locked on Zayne.

“Truth.” You whisper, wanting to steer the game in a different direction - though the palpable tension in the air suggested it was much too late for that.

“Did you like him kissing you?” Caleb asks immediately.

“Caleb…” you move toward him, but one strong hand grabs you by the wrist, stopping you from touching him.

“Answer.”

“…yes.” your reply is scarcely audible over your heartbeat, pounding like drums against your skull.

“Zayne? Truth or dare?” Caleb continued, letting you go.

Zayne’s brow tightened, he knew he was being backed into a corner. Caleb always did this, even when they were kids. Zayne might've been the oldest but Caleb was always the one in control, and neither of them cared to lose. Not then, not now.

“Dare.”

You sank back between them, just praying things didn't escalate the same way they did on the playground all those years ago.

“Kiss her again.” Caleb's tone darkened as he took another shot.

You sit up, shocked.

“Caleb!”

Zayne wasted no time, he cupped your face and pulled you into another deliciously tender kiss.

You push him off with a grunt, fighting the pleasure back into its hiding place deep inside you.

“Enough!” you snap, standing from the couch in a huff, “I’m not a stick to measure your dicks with!”

Silence.

What had you just said? Was that what you meant to say? “No, I mean,” you stutter, a smile cracking your serious expression, “The stick isn't me, just that you two - stop -” you chuckle despite yourself “I'm not a toy, is what I mean!”

You look up, your cheeks burning from embarrassment. The two young men share a look of confusion before they too break into laughter.

“Come’ere Pipsqueak,” Caleb opens his arms in wait, and you happily fly to him. He wraps you in a comforting embrace, stroking your hair. “We know what you meant. I'm sorry.”

“Me too.” Zayne agreed. “I'm so very sorry. That was…childish of me.”

“Of both of us,” Caleb adds, kissing your forehead. “Forgive us?”

You rub your eyes with a grin, nodding. You couldn't stay mad even if you wanted to, the weed saw to that.

“You were right. This game was a bad idea.”

“No…” Caleb hummed reassuringly, “To be honest, watching you two was kinda hot.”

Zayne chuckled, thinking Caleb was joking, but you knew better. His tone was sincere, aroused even.

“Really?” you ask, surprised.

Caleb shrugs and nods.

“What? I can't have kinks?” He tickles you, making you laugh and wriggle in his arms.

“Of course you can!” you exclaim, trying to break away. “I just would never expect that to be one.”

“Wait, are you serious?” Zayne asks, finally catching on. His cheeks were bright red.

“Relax Doctor,” Caleb said, nuzzling your neck as he crawled over you. You giggled, scooting back until you were in Zayne’s lap again, Caleb still nibbling at your throat. “We don't bite.”

He pulls off of you, his violet eyes lidded with lust. You look up at Zayne, who is in a similar state of distress.

“Truth or dare?” you ask the green-eyed boy behind you, your voice shaking with excitement.

He lets out a stuttered gasp.

“Dare.”

[simply-simplid]

This is maybe nothing but I love the HC that nat and Jackie were in like a FWB type situationship pre crash with a lot of unresolved feelings involved and that it would have eventually spilled over in the wilderness

I’m very slowly trying to catch up with my asks!!!

(Quick note- these are general hc thoughts and don’t super align with the PMF fic but a lot of their characterizations are the same)

JackieNat FWB Drabble below the cut

It started at a party.

It was the first game of the season. The first game with Jackie as captain, and they’d won 6-0.

Even Taissa, who had been bitter ever since Jackie was picked for captain, couldn’t help but fall into the collective joy and triumph

They’d played amazingly, all clear sighted communication and almost telepathic understanding across the field. They were a force of nature.

And like any good victory- they deserved a celebration

The party was at Lottie’s family’s lake house. It began as a general celebratory party that the senior class was invited to, drunk teenagers raging and romping and making a mess of a far too nice property

The game was on a Friday, the party that night, and Saturday through Sunday morning were reserved for just the girls to have the house to themselves.

Saturday night, while tamer just by the size of the crowd with only the Yellowjackets present, was still a party, with plenty of alcohol and weed to supply them all.

At first it was just a fun, inebriated hang out. Music playing, a movie put on the absurdly large television- long forgotten by now, shots in the kitchen, shots in the dining room, shots anywhere a person could be found to take them.

“Hey Jackie! You’ll know what I’m talking about!” It was Mari Ibarra who Jackie would have to blame for where the night went.

She was passing by the kitchen, grabbing another vodka lemonade before making her way back to where she and Shauna had been giggling, a joint passed between them while Van regaled them with an impression of their crotchety trig teacher.

Jackie blinked at Mari, a little dazed from the buzz of alcohol and weed. She had a bottle of vodka in one hand, a bottle of lemonade in the other, and two empty solo cups stacked and held by the rim between her teeth when she was dragged into a conversation she had tuned the first part out of.

“‘alkin’ a’out wut?” She mumbled through the cups in her mouth. Lottie snorted, grabbing the plastic between her teeth so she could free the girl’s mouth. Jackie gave her an appreciative smile.

“Body shots!”

Jackie blinked.

Mari suddenly gaped at her, jaw dropping and face twisting into a much too gleeful expression, like Jackie’s ignorance was delicious to her. Jackie’s face grows hot at the reaction.

“Jackie Taylor! Please tell me you know what body shots are!”

Laura Lee wanders in to grab a sprite from the fridge, expression curious. “What’s a body shot?”

“I know what a body shot is Mari!” Jackie flustered. And it’s not a lie. She knows what they are in theory. She’s heard about them. She just doesn’t really get it. No one has explained it thoroughly. You take a shot off someone’s body? Like does one person hold the glass and you sip from it and it’s supposed to be hot?

“What’s a body shot?” Laura Lee looks a little disappointed at being left out now.

“Are we doing body shots now?” Van chimes from the other room.

So this is becoming a thing now.

Quickly the kitchen is occupied by an unimpressed looking Taissa, a very excited Van who has an arm sling over a dubious looking Shauna, Lottie who is trying not to giggle as she gently explains what a body shot is to a mortified looking Laura Lee, Mari who is squealing as she sets out the tequila, salt, sugar, and lime, and Nat who is sitting on the counter with a lazy smile and a cup of something foul in her hand. And of course, Jackie, who kind of wishes she was closer to Lottie and Laura Lee so she could hear the explanation, and also kind of wishes she never walked into the kitchen.

“Okay bitches. Who’s brave enough to start us off?” Mari squawks excitedly.

“This was your idea Mari. You should do the honors.” Lottie purrs, a daring look on her face.

Mari flips her off, giggling drunkenly, “You volunteering to be my partner, Matthews?”

Lottie sips her drink slowly, eying Mari over the edge of the cup before she shrugs, tossing the empty cup aside and sauntering over to the girl casually, a gawking Laura Lee left behind.

Some of the girls ooh and giggle as Lottie makes her way towards Mari.

“Sugar or salt, Mar?” Lottie asks with a sly tilt of her head.

“Sugar, obviously.” Mari scoffs, flipping her hair over her shoulder as Lottie leans back against the counter.

Jackie watches as Mari takes one of the lime wedges, pushes up the edge of Lottie’s shirt, and squeezes lime juice across her lower stomach. Lottie watches her deliberately, a brow arched curiously, a little smirk on her lips.

Mari sprinkles some pink sugar across the wet trail of lime juice, takes a shot of tequila from a glass, and then-

Licks the trail of sugar off of Lottie’s stomach.

Jackie’s face is certainly pink, her stomach fluttering and blood buzzing at the sight while the girls behind her whoop and cheer.

Natalie scoffs from where she���s sitting.

“What the fuck was that? That was just a regular shot with a Lottie chaser.”

Mari scowls at her. “What do you mean?”

Lottie laughs, shaking her head lightly, “Sorry Ibarra, hot as that was- that was not what I would call a body shot.”

Mari huffs, scandalized, arms crossing. “Okay burnout since you’re such a fucking expert- you do it!”

Natalie laughs, rolling her eyes, but she jumps off the counter and rounds the other side of Lottie.

“No!” Laura Lee squeaks, surprising the group. Her face flushes, arms stiff at her side, “I- I mean- just- Lottie already had a turn…”

Natalie quirks a brow at her. “You volunteering?”

Laura Lee looks like she’ll pass out.

“Alright alright.” Van chuckles, having mercy on the poor girl, “Leave her alone, Scat.”

“I’m gonna need someone to demonstrate on.” Natalie says with a tilted head and crossed arms, eyes darting around the room challenging.

A hand clasps Jackie’s shoulder. “Shouldn’t our esteemed captain have the honor?”

Taissa. Smug bitch.

Before Jackie can argue, the other girls are cheering (minus Shauna who looks like she’ll has a storm brewing behind her eyes).

She’s pushed forwards towards Nat who eyes her with an infuriating questioning smirk. They’ve never exactly been close. Friends is being generous. They’ve fought more times than exchanging pleasantries. Jackie suddenly feels nervous about this idea.

“No shame in backing out princess,” Nat chuckles, “We all know you’re a little too vanilla for these games.”

Jackie’s jaw sets, and suddenly her insecurity is overcome by pride and stubborn spite.

“Ugh. Just get it over with burnout.” She huffs, arching her brow up at the bleach blonde. Natalie’s eyes flicker with something like surprise mixed with something else.

Before Jackie can analyze it further, Nat’s stepping aside and gesturing to the kitchen island behind her.

“Up you go princess.”

Jackie eyes her questioningly. Lottie steps up to offer Jackie a hand, which she takes far more willingly than she would if Nat had offered.

She’s sitting up on the granite counter now, cheeks pink at the attention on her and lack of foresight into where this is going.

“Lay back.” Lottie tells her with a smile. Jackie blinks, a little confused, but does as she’s told, turning her body so she can lay flat on the island, hair fanning out around her.

Nat pulls herself up as well, much to Jackie’s surprise, and places herself with her knees on either side of Jackie’s thighs.

Jackie is suddenly very aware of the increasing heat in her face and stomach.

Lottie clears her throat as she steps up to the side of the counter, eying Jackie carefully.

“You um… Gotta take your shirt off.”

If Jackie wasn’t red before, she certainly is now.

“Come on Cap!” Van hoots, “Nothing we haven’t seen before!”

“She doesn’t have to.” Nat shrugs quietly. “I’ll just.-“

“It’s fine.” Jackie cuts her off, swallowing her nerves, refusing to be the uptight prude. Refusing to let Nat be right about her.

She reaches up and pulls her shirt off before she can think about it more deeply, leaving her in just a black bra.

Natalie blinks a few times too many, and it’s possible that Jackie’s just drunk, but she feels a strange sense of pride at the idea of causing a reaction in the other girl.

Lottie shrugs, amusement plain on her face. She grabs a lime wedge between her fingers and offers it towards Jackie, rind side down. Jackie’s eyes look to Lottie confused.

“Hold it between your teeth.” She explains with a smile.

Jackie is still confused, but she takes the wedge between her teeth like she said.

“Okay so other than taking the wedge from her mouth, how is this any different than what I did?” Mari scoffs, unimpressed.

Nat smiles at Lottie knowingly. Then she’s bending down towards Jackie and-

Flattens her hot tongue against Jackie’s navel, licking a wet stripe slowly all the way up to her sternum right below her bra.

Mari’s jaw drops. Taissa’s eyes widen. Van’s grin grows. Laura Lee pales. Shauna looks like she’s about to explode.

And Nat pulls back, bracing herself with one hand placed against the counter by Jackie’s waist, a self-satisfied grin on her face as her tongue comes back between her teeth.

Jackie barely has the mental presence to register the blonde sprinkling salt at the top of the wet streak over her sternum.

Then Lottie tips the tequila bottle, a chill running up Jackie’s whole body as the liquid pools in the dip of her navel and belly button.

It’s truly a miracle that Jackie’s teeth having burst through the lime with how tight her jaw is.

Natalie, face pink from the alcohol, pupils blown from the weed, looks into Jackie’s eyes as she dips down, and drinks the tequila from her body, lips suctioning against her flesh to slurp the liquid up with an obscene sound, tongue dipping to lick away every last drop. Those eyes never leave Jackie’s stare as she licks her way back up the trail, licking up the salt below her bra, before finally breaking away and leaning over her face. Blonde hair falls around them like a curtain, blocking the immediate sight of Natalie’s lips and teeth closing around the lime wedge and sucking the juice away, her bottom lip brushing Jackie’s from the proximity.

When the fruit of the lime is devoured, Natalie pulls back, still straddling Jackie but sitting tall as she pulls the empty rind that she’s claimed from between her teeth, a proud smirk on her face.

Jackie is so buzzed from the experience that she doesn’t register the loud cheers and hollers from the girls around them.

The rest of the night is a blur. Fuzzy memories of innumerable drunken conversations. The team moved on from the excitement of the body shots. But Jackie spent the rest of the night thinking about the feeling of Natalie’s mouth against her flesh.

It’s a sensation she continues to think about every time she gets drunk or high.

After a victorious away game, some infuriating banter in the elevator, and enough vodka and weed to numb her inhibitions, Jackie finds herself in Nat’s hotel room, a mess of tangled limbs and a frantic chase of tongue and teeth.

“You’re- so- fucking- infuriating” Jackie pants between flurried open mouthed kisses.

Nat laughs smugly against Jackie’s throat, fingers digging into her hips where she has her pressed against the door.

“Uh-huh. Sure princess. Why don’t you tell me how much you hate me?”

Her words are punctuated with a sharp and high pitched gasp that breaks from Jackie’s lips as she sucks a bruise into the hollow of the girl’s throat.

It becomes a messy pattern after that.

[yelenasgirl]

locked inside your heart shaped box - part one (no crash au jackie taylor x natalie scatorccio)

part two

summary: jackie's the hot, popular homecoming queen that everybody adores. she's destined to be the perfect housewife, but all her plans change a bit when tough burnout natalie scatorccio moves to wiskayok. cue the drama, the romance, and the sudden realization that maybe jackie isn't as straight as she thought...

tw: none (for now)

────୨ৎ────────

if you asked jackie taylor what her favorite part about summer was, she would probably pick her family’s vacation to the hamptons. and then she’d immediately change her answer to her 17th birthday party. and then she might turn around and say when they got the pool installed in the backyard. in fact, the only thing jackie didn’t enjoy was the three-day long camping trip she took with her parents. it was supposed to be a fun learning experience for her. the only thing jackie learned was that she was not built for the wilderness.

so, yeah, summer was pretty good. and while she’s sad to have to trade in days at the beach for days in a trig classroom, she can’t help but be excited. it was her first day of senior year! the year of all the opportunities. senior trips, college credit classes, big dances, graduations. and hopefully - the year her soccer team would make it to nationals.

the last day of her junior year was a big one. coach martinez had pulled her aside after soccer practice and while jackie was scared shitless that she was going to get kicked off the team for something (her shoes were a different color than the mandated black or white - her blue sneakers were just so cute). he had informed her that he’s going to make her senior year captain. He said something about her not being fastest, or having the best footwork, and a bunch of other things that sounded suspiciously like insults but jackie didn’t care, because she was going to be the fucking team captain. definitely better than being kicked off the team.

so, yeah, jackie was excited.

jackie checks her hair and makeup in the mirror one last time, and then heads downstairs. she slips on her favorite pair of shoes, - red heels, to match with the dress her grandparents picked out with her - grabs her bag and heads out the door, ready to start a brand new day at wiskayok high. its gonna be fun jackie reassures herself. after all - why wouldn’t it be? she calls out a goodbye to her mother and sees shauna’s car pull up by her curb, sliding into the passenger seat.

jackie remembers the day that she met shauna. it was the first day of their freshman year, and they assigned seats right next to each other in geometry. it was probably the best thing that ever happened to jackie (except for when she got floor seat eras tour tickets as a birthday present, but, close enough).

ever since then, jackie and shauna were like two peas in a pod. they did everything together. why wouldn’t they? they were best friends. jackie remembers one day in sophomore year during her biology class, when shauna was absent, the teacher asked her ‘where the other one was’. it was one of jackie’s happiest moments. she never really had anyone the way she had shauna before. 

shauna even helped her get with her current boyfriend, jeff. she was tutoring him all throughout freshman year, and jackie was obsessed with him. At first, she was convinced that shauna liked him - which would have been a problem cause what kind of best friend would she be if she went after her best friend’s crush? - but once she realized shauna didn’t like him, she immediately set up a plan for shauna to talk to him so they can get together. In the end, everything worked out and now, three years later, jeff and jackie are still thriving and together.

“so,” jackie says enthusiastically, grabbing shauna’s hand, to which the latter pulls away. probably just to keep both her hands on the wheel, jackie figures.. “first day of senior year! are you ready?! i feel super confident about soccer tryouts. and about rutgers, of course!”

rutgers. jackie’s dream school. It truly was everything she ever could have wanted. in freshman year, she took a tour with her high school class and immediately fell in love. when asked ‘why rutgers’ her immediate response was ‘why not rutgers.’ it had amazing academic courses, a variety of majors to choose from, a beautiful campus and tall, ivy colored walls. she wanted it all. 

but that wasn’t the only reason jackie wanted to go to rutgers.

jackie wasn’t big on secrets. well, okay, fine, maybe she was - she had a lot of them, anyways. but she wasn’t a big fan of secrets she couldn’t tell shauna. in fact, she only has one of those. 

jackie taylor, popular girl extraordinaire, wanted to get the fuck out of wiskayok, new jersey. She was the poster child for a small town golden girl. It’s not like she was expected to go places that weren’t the chapel to get married to the father of her future children. and she loves jeff, she really does, and she wants a life with him but not like that. she wants her own life, too. one that’s more than just being a man’s wife. a child’s mother. a product of the suburban lifestyle. 

she knows, realistically, she could never leave. she could never be the person she truly wants to be. besides, it’s not like her parents would ever let her get that far away from wiskayok. so rutgers was the farthest she could go.

contrary to popular belief, jackie taylor was not your stereotypical popular homecoming queen. she actually had thoughts and feelings that weren’t just ‘oh, my dress is ugly!’ or ‘oh, my hair looks great today!’ (although, she did take her haircare very seriously). jackie was actually a real life human being, not just a lifesize barbie doll. with her long, caramel-colored hair flowing down her shoulders, her long eyelashes always curled to perfection, and her clothes always form-fitting and attractive, jackie knows it’s hard to imagine her as a girl with problems. It’s hard to imagine that perfect, smart, gorgeous jackie taylor could have things to cry about. hot girls have it easy, that’s what everyone thinks. and jackie knows, she knows that she probably has it easier than most. 

but it doesn’t mean she has it easy.

jackie realizes that being a pretty, popular girl isn’t all bad. but it’s not all good. sometimes it causes less problems. and sometimes it causes more. it’s like one of the posters on her bedroom wall, written in big, bold text: girlhood is like godhood, a begging to be believed. that’s what it feels like to be jackie taylor; just begging to be believed.

ever since the day she knew what the word "housewife" meant, jackie knew that was her destiny. and as much as she didn't love the idea of staying at home, taking care of the kids while her husband was at work, she knew that there were worse things in the world. and when you've had as much time to prepare for this future as jackie had, well, you get used to it.

so jackie's used to it, really. it's fine. but still, a girl can dream.

“come on, let’s grab something real quick.” jackie says, nodding over to the local cafe. jackie’s pretty sure her and shauna go to the cafe more than the go to actual school (and jackie had a perfect attendance record). jackie’s raging insomnia meant she needed the caffeine. tired girl is never a successful one, jackie’s mom had always told her. she’s pretty sure that was just her trying to get jackie to go to sleep on time, but, the details aren’t really important. what was important is that usual server who takes jackie and shauna’s order wasn’t there, and instead, was replaced by a blonde haired, pale skinned, grunge looking teenage girl, no older than 18. 

jackie was not big on spontaneity or anything that doesn’t follow a routine, so sue her for freezing up slightly when she noticed there was a new girl. a new girl who didn’t know her and shauna’s order by heart, a new girl who might not match jackie’s positive attitude, a new girl who looked like she was giving jackie the death stare until jackie realized she was the one staring. shit. so much for first impressions.

“sorry” jackie immediately apologized. “um, can we get a small iced caramel latte and a small americano, please?” she recited her and shauna’s usual order. usually, with the old girl, jackie would engage in conversation for a couple of minutes until she backs up the line so much that the store’s owner walks out and starts yelling at the two of them. this time, she expected the blonde girl - whose name tag read natalie - to bitch at her, maybe judging her for her choice of drink or whatever. but instead, she just nods, takes jackie’s credit card, gives it back, and walks away to make the drink. and jackie? has no fucking clue what to think.

“you okay?” shauna asks, noticing jackie’s shaken up state. “uh yeah, sorry.” jackie immediately snaps out her trance, still staring awkwardly at natalie. “um, shauna? what do you think of the new girl?” jackie asked, finally tearing away her eyes from the dark makeup and the shaggy haircut. “what do you mean?” shauna asked, and jackie just shakes her head because of course shauna never payed enough attention to notice that they always order from the same girl because of course shauna never cared enough about routines. of course she never had to live her life by a certain formula or method the way jackie did. so of course when a new server comes around, shauna doesn’t even bat an eyelash. of course, of course, of course-

“never mind.” jackie shakes her head, and ignores the pit in her stomach when she realizes that shauna isn’t going ask her what’s wrong.

“here you go.” natalie says, handing the drinks over to the girls, her face completely expressionless, no visible hatred detected but no obvious happiness either. now, jackie isn’t the best at reading social cues, she can be oblivious sometimes and people like natalie, with no obvious expression on their faces, doesn’t help. jackie likes the feeling of being able to know what’s going on in someone’s head, it makes her feel safer. natalie makes her feel the opposite.

jackie smiles as wide as her lips would let her go, taking both her and shauna’s drink as the two of them exit the cafe.

they still had a good 20 minutes until school started - jackie always made sure that her and shauna were early for the first day - so they stayed in the car, sipping their coffee and gossiping like always (which equals to jackie yapping and shauna just nodding along). it was nice. jackie hadn’t really seen much of shauna throughout the summer, despite jackie’s many attempts for them to get together and hang out, and even though things were slightly tense between them, jackie can’t deny that she misses her best friend. almost enough that she was considering being a few minutes late just so she could talk to shauna for a bit longer. almost.

“alright.” jackie squeezes shauna’s hand. “it’s time.”

they walk into the school, hand and hand, and as excited as she is to finally be back, jackie can’t deny that she’s slightly nervous. it’s her last year. it has to be perfect, jackie starts to think, but then stops before she can start reading too much into it.

she sits down at her homeroom, finding the desk labeled with her last name, and plopping down. she’s near the door, so she’s able to look outside and observe all the students walking up and down the halls, in and out of classrooms. she recognizes everyone, having memorized everyone’s names and faces by the time she finished her freshman year and no that doesn’t make her a creep, it’s not like she followed anyone around or anything trying to find out if their name was sarah with an ‘h’ or without one (it’s not stalking, okay, its just research) (oh, and there was an h. ten points for jackie). 

eventually, her own classroom starts to fill out except for a seat next to her, labeled “scatorccio” in all uppercase letters. which is odd, given the fact that jackie doesn’t actually know anyone with the last name scatorccio, which she may or may not start freaking out about.

but before she can take anymore time to have a mini panic attack about everything not going to plan, the principal steps into her classroom and requests jackie head over to his office, which causes her to have a different mini panic attack because she’s been here for what, five minutes, and she’s already in trouble? (okay, logistically, she knows she’s probably not in trouble, and her freaking out is just another repeat of the coach martinez incident, but still). apparently, jackie’s fear is obvious, cause the principal just chuckles and informs her that no, she isn’t in trouble, and instead he wants her to show around the new girl, which immediately made jackie why the actual fuck did someone move to wiskayok of all places but she didn’t say that because oh, that must be who the scatorccio girl is.

as she walks into the principal’s office, he starts to go on to say something about how he wanted her to show the new girl around because she was positive representation for the school or something, some shit she’d really eat up if it wasn’t for the growing pit in her stomach when she saw coffee shop girl standing right in front of her in the office, which, why the hell would she be here? unless…unless-

“jackie, this is the girl i want you to show around. natalie scatorccio, meet jackie taylor. jackie, this is natalie.”

well. fuck.

────୨ৎ────────

[superblysubpar]

eddie munson x you

921 words

warnings: minor pain medication, blood and injury descriptions | this is a part of a larger story that hasn't been released yet, so you might not get a lot that's going on, Eddie calls you Lucky because of Lucky Strike cigarettes | a little angst, okay a lot. We're a big asshole to Eddie in this - I told you freak wasn't always gonna be slutty, guys (don't hate me)

a blurb for the "Trick or Treat, Freak?" event - don't forget to vote for tomorrow's fic at the bottom of this blurb

Your hand shakes as you lift it to his eye, warm cloth stained with stark red and rust from earlier, the bleeding still hasn’t stopped.

His fingers circle your wrist, a thumb swipes over your racing pulse as he stops you from touching his skin with the rag again.

“Wanna tell me what the fuck happened back there?”

Eddie’s question isn’t asked cruelly, his tone isn’t hard or angry and god you wish it were. You wish it was jagged and sharp and could cut you like you know you deserve.

Instead, it’s a little broken, a little soft, like he already knows the answer, he just wants to hear you say it out loud.

Your shoulders lift up, bare, aside from the flimsy straps of your silk camisole, all that you had underneath the pink sweater that was now cushioning your knees and ruined, covered in sticky coca-cola and your best friend’s blood. It was the only thing you could think to do, to stop the bleeding from his swollen nose as you drove his van back to his trailer. Your hands gripped his steering wheel as Eddie blinked rapidly, and your voice strained to sound normal, to keep him talking, so he’d stay awake.

Maybe it would have been better if he’d have passed out.

Fingers catch under your jaw, blues and purples blunt and calling your attention against his pale fingers as they tilt your chin, so you have to look at him.

Look at the big, brown, blinking eyes that shine with something you tell yourself aren’t tears.

“Lucky,” Eddie’s voice cracks, “Tell me you’re not dating that fucking guy. Tell me.”

You don’t have to tell him, because you know he knows. Knows from the way your nose scrunches to fight off tears and your chin wobbles beneath his thumb and your hands reach for his jaw and he fucking knows, because it’s Eddie and he knows you.

His face pales, somehow, even more white, the fresh and drying blood surrounding his eye, his nose, his lip stark against the skin that looks like he’s just seen a ghost. It’s like all the color except the injuries that are your fault drains from his eyes and face, so you have no choice but to acknowledge the direct result of your actions.

“I-I told you I wanted to have the movie night here, Eddie,” you try to argue, to make it so it’s not your fault, but your voice shakes and it comes out a little angry.

Eddie recoils at your excuse, almost falling into the green tub behind him, resting on the lip of it as you knelt in between his knees. He shakes his head and presses his palms to his eyes, wincing at the pain of his wounds, but not caring it seems, since he leaves them there while he talks.

“God,” he laughs, bitterly, biting words you’d just wished for slapping across your skin, “I knew it. I fucking knew it.”

His hands drop, and his eyes aren’t glass anymore, they’re hard, sharp.

Cold.

“What’s your cover, huh? Tutoring me? The freak is so dumb, and he gives you free weed for helping him pass trig?”

He waits for you to argue with it, to correct him, to apologize, all of which you want to do, but instead you get just as angry. Your hands shove at his knees as you stand and you start slamming first aid kit supplies back into the case with shaking hands and a rising volume.

Your head moves back and forth, a sharp and universal ‘no’, avoiding his gaze, “Not all of us can take the road less traveled and deal with the doubt and assumptions and cruelty with raised heads and fake shields or whatever bullshit you wanna try and spew at those, let’s face it, losers, who follow you around, okay? Some of us have to keep up appearances, and we’re just trying to get out of high school with a good reputation so we can get out-“

“Losers?!” Eddie’s standing now, his volume covering up yours as the room gets smaller, his broad shoulders taking up the narrow space. He throws his hands out at you and then to the dingy mirror, the bottle of aspirin you’d opened for him falls to the ground, pills scattered across the tile as he shouts, “Sweetheart, you’re not just keeping up appearances, fuck, you’re in it and you have no desire to get out. You can lie to yourself but you can’t lie to me!”

“Shut up!” The yell is pathetic, it’s not even a yell, it’s this sob, this beg for him to leave it be. A plea to go back in time before you left his trailer and begged him not to go to The Hawk, to turn around and just watch VHS tapes all night with you at home. Your whole body is practically vibrating now, angry, scared.

Eddie’s shoulders fall as he watches you look anywhere but him, watches your face scrunch in pain so you don’t cry in front of him. His voice lowers, defeated, sad that he’s not shocked when he doesn’t ask, but says, “You’re not gonna even break up with him, are you.”

Your body flinches as a sob breaks free from your chest and your hand covers your mouth, eyes filling with tears and spilling down your cheeks as you run out of his bathroom.

For the first time, but not the last, Eddie Munson doesn’t follow you.

depending on which one wins, it'll be more dad/husband steve or dad/husband eddie focused, but their AU's run together/both will be mentioned 🥰

*voting will close at 10am CST tomorrow, 10/5

[sunflowersandscreams]

adansey kissing fic. i love them

set somewhere in early bllb maybe?

When Adam kisses him, it's like an experiment.

Gansey is doing what he does too often: running in futile circles as he chases Glendower down. Some nights he feels like a hound in pursuit of a fox; predatory, all instinct and no intellect. Tonight, he feels like August rain: sticky and hot, impending, causing misery.

Inexplicably, Adam is here, doing his homework on the floor. Gansey had offered him his desk, but Adam had only shaken his head and dodged all further attempts at chivalry. So Gansey sits in his desk chair, feeling rather like an especially pompous king looking down on his commoners. Then he kicks himself for thinking that at all, because that's exactly the kind of thing Adam would expect, and nothing like what Gansey wants to be.

"Gans, have you done the trig questions?" Adam asks. His voice betrays nothing, but something sticks out to Gansey.

Adam is, without a doubt, the smartest person he's ever known. For him to be asking Gansey for help with trigonometry is absurd. It has to be an excuse for something, but for what, Gansey doesn't know.

"Yes," Gansey says, his tone staying just as even. He fetches his mathematics workbook and goes to sit cross-legged beside Adam on the dusty wooden floor. The impossibly soft, 100% cotton pants that he wears to bed crease at his knees, curiously similar to Adam's sweatpants even though the other boy's are no doubt mostly polyester.

He leans over Adam's book - which oddly has all the questions completed - and Adam leans in to kiss him.

He does it in stages. First he looks at Gansey, eyes purposeful, maybe a touch of excitement in them - or maybe that's Gansey's imagination, projecting onto Adam - then he inches closer and lets his breath hit Gansey's mouth. Gansey has a moment to think, Oh, Jesus, and part his lips before Adam covers them with his own.

It wouldn't be a particularly remarkable kiss, except for the fact that it's Adam. Gansey's strange and wonderful best friend who has magic in his fingertips and a forest behind his eyes, whose eyelids slide shut as he kisses Gansey a little more insistently.

Gansey, for his part, throws caution and restraint to the wind and with too much enthusiasm throws himself into the kiss. It's suddenly getting very warm in this drafty room and he feels a flush creep up his neck like a sunburn, or a rash.

It's not a slow kiss, but it is languid in a comfortable and knowing way, the sort of way that makes Gansey think that Adam has been wanting this for a while. He wonders if he's dreaming before Adam's teeth pinch his lip and the jolt of sensation makes him certain he's awake, wide awake, and kissing Adam Parrish.

Adam's tongue slips over the pain and smooths it away, and Gansey is just thinking he might be about to discover the elusive and reportedly erotic French kiss when Adam pulls back with an audible noise.

"Hm," Adam Parrish says, as elusive and erotic as the French kiss is supposed to be, and Gansey finds himself tripping over his heart and stumbling into a hall of mirrors where every surface reflects his own exposed emotions.

"You are so brilliant," Gansey says, unguarded and thoughtless, not thinking about how the words might make Adam feel, if they will make him angry at Gansey for- for- anything. But Adam only pants and swallows, and Gansey hopes that it was nice for him. "Why did you...?"

Adam smirks, a minuscule one, that quickly flits away. Gansey wants to kiss it, wants to kiss him, again. "I wanted to see what would happen."

"If I'd let you," Gansey fills in. Adam seems a bit surprised that Gansey would get this, but also not surprised at all, like it's obvious. "Well. I hope that answered your question."

"It did." Adam nods, composed, and goes back to checking his trig homework.

That wouldn't do.

"Will you come here," Gansey says, trying not to make it an order and having it turn out as a plea. Adam smiles properly now, and Gansey takes his chin in his hand and guides it towards his mouth again.

The second time, it's less of an experiment, and more like the result of a proven hypothesis.

[theresamouseinmyhouse]

tim + brentwood characters as boys i was legitimately friends with in high school and think of every single day:

Buzz- Jake (fake names for all of my friends bc privacy reasons) who complained about hanging out with nerds, got into a fistfight with someone else on his football team bc they called us nerds, was thoroughly convinced he'd run laps faster if he was hopped up on pixie stix (i held his backback while he got sick in the bathroom👍👍), he tried to hit on my older sister and she laughed at him, he was so put out he contemplated becoming a monk for a week

Wes: Max, who i helped sneak an entire bottle of orange juice on to the bus to our choir competition, but was unaware he brought a full bottle of vodka as well, ended up crying on our choir teacher for the three hours after the comp and i bought him a box of donuts after school, he did not stop doing this and had severe beef with a kid he knew in 5th grade and hadnt seen since but also hadnt forgotten their name and last i knew, was still awaiting for a dreaded confrontation to eventually come

Kip: Eduardo, who we all thought was studying during lunch but was actually filling his notebook with weird facts he observed about us and also managed to chew several packs of gum at once throughout our math class before the teacher noticed him, didnt know the plot to the clockwork orange so i lied about it for 5 weeks before he read it and called me just to tell me "you lying frog" befire he hung up

Ali: Ángel, who lied several times on separate occasions to the campus security about where people smoked, forgot what chihuahuas were twice, and almost drowned when he was swimming except his older brother got him and he immediately called me while waiting for the ambulance to tell me he almost fucking died, randomly sang a song about crabs he made up throughout the day

Danny: Ben, helped me with my biology homework because i helped him with essays, once released a live rat into the computer classroom because he had beef with the teacher, once texted me at 11 p.m. because he was having a mental breakdown over his chem work before he realized he was actually looking at trig and i told him id shoot him with a tranq gun if he woke me up like this again, kept forgetting how to tie his shoes

Tim: Teddy, he catfished 6 men over the age of 30 by pretending to be a 13 yr old girl and lured them to the part of town where there is an absurd amount of wild dogs that evade animal control and are known to maul humans, i watched him lockpick the english teacher's door so he could take back an essay he wrote bc it was actually a slash fic he printed out and turned in by accident, we hung out at a dennys once and he accidentally put his hand in syrup, looked me dead in the eye and said "i did that bc im gay" and wore pastel pink for a month bc it pissed off the hall monitor, his dad, and also six teachers he didnt even have class with

[hollowed-willow]

Back to looking too much into props and stuff for Todd. This might have already been said(?), but Todd has an Algebra 2 book when the rest of the poets are in trigonometry (which is a level above Algebra 2), and I feel like this really shows his character in a subtle way. Focusing on the "I will always be in my brother's shadow" part. I feel like him not being a "math person" makes a lot of sense. Especially in most countries, schools and society as a whole put a lot more emphasis and appreciation for math and science in comparison to English and the arts, which Todd is more proficient at (I could literally go on a whole rant about this-).

Also, what grade level were the Dead Poets in? I took Algebra 2 and Trig simultaneously my freshman year (although I'm like 2 or 3 years ahead math wise), and I took chem sophomore year. I believe that they're supposed to be upperclassmen, but nothing mentioned if they were juniors or seniors. I think they're juniors for a few reasons. For one, I think it would just be mean to make Todd move schools senior year even if (based on his personality) he wasn't super close to anyone at his previous school. That's moreso an emotional reason, so for the actual facts, in the late 50s, because of the rise of the Cold War, education in math and science was encouraged. More and more high schools were offering classes like calculus and generally higher levels of education in comparison to just a few years prior. Since Welton is supposed to be one of the "best preparatory schools for boys," It's likely they followed suit. So, the boys learning trigonometry in junior year isn't a farfetched idea.

As for their science class, I'm uncertain? My school made us take Earth science, biology, chemistry, then a vague "one more science credit" (I took AP Bio then forensic science), so I'm not sure what the standard path is for science classes (I'd love to know if someone has that information). Another point is that Welton is a private school, so many of the kids come from wealthier families, yet none of the poets have a car. This could be in part due to a school policy of not allowing student vehicles on campus, but the line about Todd getting a car during Todd's birthday scene about what things he could have gotten puts me more in favor of them being juniors. Typically, students get their license junior year, so parents will gift them a car around that time. And last, but not least, they don't really talk about getting into college at all? There was the scene in the cave where Pitts said he might go to Yale, but he might not, and that's about it. For a school so adimate on college, if they were seniors, I fell like applying to colleges and acceptances would be a lot more prevalent in conversation. I feel like if they were seniors, that would be a major point of conversation even within the movie. A big part of the movie is setting the students up for college and their life outside of Welton, so mentioning that this is their last year at Welton would make sense.

But, on the other hand, in the movie there isn't really any extras that seem like upperclassmen that aren't in their class, and the four boys holding the banners with Welton's four pillars were all a part of the same class (Cameron, Hopkins, Knox, and ofc Neil) which seems like something that would be specifically for seniors. I'd love to know your thoughts, critiques, etc. on both matters :)

TLDR: Todd is in a math below the rest of the Dead Poets, which further emphasizes the notion that Todd is "less than" his brother, and also I think the poets are juniors.

[ultimateswag]

𝚂𝚝𝚎𝚟𝚎𝚗 𝙼𝚎𝚎𝚔𝚜- Study Sesh

Paring : Steven Meeks x fem reader

TW : (brief) mentions of biblical studies and Pythagorean Identities.

[this is my first imagines by the way, so please excuse any mistake or poor writing (I tried to not mention any racial aspects, but lmk what I can improve)]

Latin was always a subject you mastered. It got much easier once you began to assimilate Latin with French, which, by the way, you were also pretty good at. One was a dead language, not spoken nowadays, but really useful when doing biblical studies, and then the other was the language of romance, the one people thought of when asked to say the most romantic and sexy language there is.

Though, besides languages and the occasional English, you weren’t really exceptional in any other subject, especially Trigonometry. It's not like you were failing, not at all actually, but you simply couldn't excel it like, by example, literature. That's why you’re pushing yourself to the edge, so you can get better at the calculus assimilated subjects, and that's why you asked Steven Meeks for help.

The two of you have always been friends, talking to each other in the corridors, of course being together in study groups, and also being a part of the same secret society. But apart from those friendly interactions, you didn't stand out as actually being friends, so much so, that few people actually believed that you even knew who Steven was. Being the only girl at Welton preparatory school due to your high intellectual level ( and family history) made you quite popular, so why would you, willingly, hang out with Steven Meeks? That's what they all thought, though, no one dared to say it out loud.

"I still don't understand this." You said, a loud sigh leaving your mouth quickly after as you stared at the problem filled paper in front of you.

Steven let out a small low chuckle, though it was clear he didn't mean it in an offensive way. "This is actually simpler than it looks" he begins, moving the paper a bit closer to him, and scooting lightly closer to you. "Once you understand the concept, it'll all make sense." And to that, you nods, gaze switching from the paper to his face, admiring his soft freckles, beautiful eyes and- and how he begins to explain Pythagorean Identities.

"Alright. So. Pythagorean identities. The most important one is kind of like the golden rule of trig: sin?0 + cos 0 = 1. That's the foundation, everything else branches from this." He explains.

You leaned in, the scent of your sweet raspberry perfume just barely brushing the air between them. "But why does that even work?"

Steven looked at you not just any glance, but the kind of look that says I see you struggling, and I want to help you out of it. "Because it comes from the Pythagorean Theorem." He says, but swing the confusion linger on your face, he grabs a piece of blank paper and a pencil and begins to draw." Picture this: a right triangle inside the unit circle. The hypotenuse is 1. The x-value is cose, the y-value is sine. So when you square both and add them up... it just always equals 1."

You blinked, eyes narrowing slightly in concentration as they switch from the homework, to Steven's drawing. "So it's not just a random formula-they actually mean something."

He nodded, a little too pleased you were catching on. "Exactly. And the other two identities are built off this one. Like, if you divide everything by cos?0, you get: 1 + tan?0 = sec?0. And if you divide by sin'® instead, it becomes: cot?0 + 1 = cscª0. It's like a family of truths that are all connected."

You bit your lip, scribbling it down, then looked sideways at him. "Do you always talk about math like it's poetry?" You ask with a small smile. Steven, just like you, has always taken a special liking to poetry, and just like everyone else, after just a few classes with Mr. Keating, it became a bigger, more important part of his life, so of course it was no surprise to see him romanticizing trigonometry.

Steven smiled, a faint flush rising in his cheeks. "It makes it easier to understand, does it not?" he tilts his head lightly at you, seeing as you wrote the problem's answer down on the paper, with your perfect calligraphy, while your beautiful, hair fell next to you. Your eyes seemed to shine as you understood each problem, they looked beautiful, you looked so beautiful. At least that's what he thought.

"I suppose it does" A soft laughter is heard leaving your mouth. There was a beat of silence-just the hush of pages turning in the distance and the soft tapping of your pen again. "You know," you said, not looking at him this time, "I usually hate asking for help."

"I know," he replied, glancing at her-noticing the tension in your jaw softening a little. "But I kind of like that you asked me.

Their eyes met. Just for a second. A heartbeat.

“I do too.” She said softly, turning to look at her notes once again. Her cheeks were feeling hotter, she didn’t want to look up.

“Do you need help with anything els-“ Before he could finish his frase, Aurora began speaking once again, mustering up enough courage to glance at him.

“Would you like to hang out? Outside of school?” She asks, cheeks getting hotter and hotter .

“That’d be pretty nice, actually.” Steven’s now held held a crimson tint, although he tried to act like he wasn’t about to jump out of happiness.

“Cool” she says, attempting to act nonchalant, but giving him a shy smile.

“Cool.” He answers back, returning her smile.

[catsockpuppet]

Do You Want A Shit Ton Of Calix Facts?

TOO BAD! YOU’RE GETTING THEM!! YOU HAVE NO SAY IN THIS!!!!!

erm, ignore the doodle up there it’s normal and not relevant at all i prommy <- half lie

BEWARE OF YAPS vvv

1. calix is caedromantic

2. his favorite song is “new god” by moonwalker

3. calix was bit by a werewolf in his teens during a very specific event. a lot of shit went down on the very same day and cal ended up hospitalized for weeks. he met radford there!

4. skid and pump know he’s a werewolf, skid will find his way to calix’s house every full moon to see him transform (but then he gets bored because calix stays home on full moons and does nothing but play drums to avoid stress an’ a transformation)

5. a transformation can be trigged by stress (anger/sadness/etc.) but the further he is from a full moon the less calix can transform! when the moon is barely visible calix can’t transform whatsoever (he likes going out an partying on those days)

6. calix refused to drink or smoke, but he does take edibles sometimes..sometimes. only really when he’s hanging out with ethan

7. calix wears almost exclusively loose tank tops and shorts in case he transforms (other clothes would rip or just be really uncomfortable). cal doesn’t actually like showing much skin though, he wears a jacket sometimes when he’s really uncomfortable

8. he’s suuuchh a pussy about getting sick (/pos). he’ll curl up in blankets and just shiver and only gets up when patty brings him soup

9. he pretty much lives in patty’s basement, his ‘bedroom’ is down there (he sleeps on a couch)

10. calix cannot sleep on a bed ever since his little canon event. if you asked him he’d say the worst part about the hospital was having to sleep in those beds RIGHT AFTER the incident

11. he dropped out of high school, it was too much added stress onto the lycanthropy

12. his lycanthropy is supposed to kinda represent disability but even w/out the lycanthropy he’d be disabled

13. his hair is lighter than patty’s because he bleaches it <3

14. calix tries not to talk about himself or his life because he feels like he’ll hurt people if they get too close (“don’t stare at the sun [ you won’t like what you see ]”)

15. ^ that little quote i made up encapsulates a lot of calix’s character, actually.

16. he likes grapes a lot

17. calix gardens! he loves plants. patty has a few flowers around the house that he takes care of

18. he hasn’t entered his old bedroom since before his hospitalization. patty went in once to grab a few of his clothes and bring them down to the basement but otherwise they don’t go in.

19. ^ patty payed robert $200 to empty the room for her and box everything up. she donated everything in there (and let robert take some of calix’s old games)

OKAY. UNDER THE CUT TIME BC I WANNA TALK ABOUT WHAT HAPPENED TO HIM (tws: violence, underage drinkinh, overdose)

calix got into a bad group when he was a teen. patty wasn’t home oneday and he had a friend sneak in to hang out. they were older and got access to alcohol (something calix had been kind of desensitized by now, he’d also picked up smoking) so the two were drinking an’ just kind of hanging out until the friend attacked him. that’s where he got bit and the lycanthropy didn’t reveal itself for a few more weeks but calix was really injured from the attack+he’d had a bit too much to drink by now. calix only really remembers passing out in his bed and waking up in a hospital bed with patty sitting next to him

20. calix doesn’t enjoy showing skin because he has a subconscious fear of getting bit again

21. he doesn’t touch any substances because of what happened

22. not related to all this but i forgot to mention that patty had calix in her 20s while she was in college, she’s a single mother.

[oraclefreak]

Dead Poets Society boys headcanons I thought of while showering: showering edition (sounds ironic)

Charlie: bro uses an IRRATIONAL amount of shampoo. Most probably has finished one entire bottle in a matter of 4 days before (shampoo prices must not be an issue for him, I guess). His hair somehow isn't damaged, and not even god knows why. Takes an hour for him to finish showering. He talks in the shower, and if it's in Hellton showers he will talk to someone else while showering (Knox and him get idiotically philosophical; call it shower thoughts that are actually spoken)

Cameron: this mf measures the amount of shampoo he uses. I never knew someone who did this, but I can DEFINITELY GUESS that Cameron has a measuring cup just for shampoo. His showers are short compared to the others, probably because he doesn't think about other things rather than to finish showering. Uses more hair products outside the shower (the youngsters would call it 'styling').

Meeks: he's a little more normal. But DEFINITELY has realizations while showering, it's just that he doesn't say them out loud. Suddenly his mind speaks to him about how to set up the DIY radio to work or something like that and he won't talk to anyone after the shower until he has it sorted out (will go RUNNING like he's running out of time to tell Pitts). Probably 25 minutes long showers because he also uses a product to keep his curls okay.

Knox: who told this dumbass that putting on perfume while the water is running and he's still showering is okay? Multiple people had told him that IT DOESN'T MAKE SENSE, but he's like "no, guys, I swear it works... because the other day-", and he's mentioning an event that has nothing to do with putting on perfume in the shower. I can imagine one of his talks where he goes OVERLY philosophical and Charlie just tells him that he's 'talking stupid'. He takes (slightly) less than one hour just to not be called the one who takes the most time in the shower (a.k.a Charlie Dalton)

Neil: WHO put theater kid music in here? Social anxiety fears this dude. Not only he sings his favorite musicals, he also mumbles the dialogue for his next play. I'm certain that more than 7 people in Hellton have memorized at least one line from his dialogue just by listening to him (even if it's mumbling people can still hear him). Takes like 40 minutes for him to finish showering, and most of it is him trying to remember his parts in the play (sometimes Todd, who has them memorized after reading the script multiple times, tells him the next word and Neil yells it with excitement in an 'eureka' type of way). I think he would do a little skincare while showering, maybe just one product to clean his face and then wash it off.

Todd: always takes him 19 minutes straight to finish showering, some of the poets wonder if he has a watch to know when to come out (it has been proved scientifically that he does not take less or more than 19 minutes). Has a panic attack every time the soap slips. For some reason also uses conditioner... Who told him that he has to use it? I don't know (your hair isn't even that long, dude). Has the typical writer struggle of having an awesome idea but not having anything to write at the moment (has suffered the pain of forgetting what the idea was). Unlike the other poets, he does not do much after showering rather than brushing his hair and then dissociating (partially canon, I guess)

Pitts: he tried to get the shampoo out violently once, and it ended all over the place except his hand. He's more conscious about it now and it didn't happen ever again since then. He's a thinker, but not a philosophical one (like Charlie or Knox) or a genius one (like Meeks). His thoughts range from "did I turn off my desk lamp", to "TRIG HOMEWORK IS DUE TOMORROW AND I DIDN'T FINISH IT YET". Awfully specific but probably uses two brands of shampoo (I don't know where the idea came from but I can see it). Takes him a little bit more than 25 minutes to finish showering but does not usually reach 30 minutes long showers.

I don't know where all of these came out of.

[wolfjackle-creates]

Bring Me Home Arc 2 Part 20: FINAL

So guess what I realized this morning. Today, November 13, 2023 is the one year anniversary of me posting my first DPxDC fic to tumblr. It was the original fill for this very fic. (Which you can find here.)

So I decided I just had to finish this arc and get it posted. This year has been amazing and so much fun. I've become a much better writer and joined a community that has brought me so much joy. I'm glad to be here and I'm glad so many of you like to read what I'm sharing.

I noticed I got a few new readers over the past week or so, so welcome to all of you! Hope you enjoy this early update!

In personal news, my nephew was born and he's adorable and I'll be meeting him tomorrow! (As soon as I'm done posting this, I'm off to make food for his mom.)

Story Summary: Tim and Danny are both neglected by parents who care more about their work than their families. They deal with this by spending too much time online and find each other playing MMORPGs. They keep up their friendship as Tim becomes Robin and Danny becomes Phantom and don't bother keeping secrets from each other.

Arc 1

Arc 2: Part 1, Previous

Word Count: 1.2k

-----

In the end, it ended up taking several hours for Danny, Sam, and Tucker to escape their families and converge on the park. In that time, Tim had called Bruce to let him know he’d be back in Gotham by tomorrow and finished most of his homework.

While he worked, Wulf and Bart were having an animated conversation in Esperanto.

Tim was pretty sure Wulf would be bringing Bart to the Ghost Zone for a tour sometime and started making plans to learn Esperanto himself and bribe Bart to get in on them.

Cassie was helping Conner sort through some of the music Sam had given him. Tim was jealous as he solved more banal trig questions. Why did school have to be so boring? He tapped his pencil on the paper in time to the beat of whatever music Conner had playing.

Tucker was the first to arrive. “Danny and Sam not here yet?” he asked as he plopped down next to Bart and Wulf.

“Nope. Haven’t heard from them, either,” said Tim. He opened his phone notifications again just to be sure, but there was nothing new.

Tucker shrugged and pulled out a stick of jerkey to munch on. “Not surprising. The Fentons will be all overprotective after the mayor was kidnapped by a ghost on live TV. And Sam’s parents are just as bad. Only they smother rather than check the weaponry.” He turned to greet Wulf in Esperanto.

An email came through on Tim’s phone and he groaned. “Our evening interview was canceled. No one wants to hear us try to defend Phantom anymore.”

Cassie cursed. “Course not. Bet the paper won’t publish our editorials either.”

Conner looked over, confused. “Won’t they? Clark works for the Daily Planet. They publish stuff like that all the time.”

Tim didn’t look up from his math as he answered, “That’s the difference between a big, Pulitzer winning publication and a small-town op-ed.”

Tucker sighed. “Well maybe someone will remember your interviews from this morning in a positive light.”

Bart rolled his eyes. “Come on, we can’t change it. So let’s move forward. Next step, make friends with more ghosts! Wulf says there’s a bunch of cool people in the Realms.”

“Realms?” asked Tim.

“It’s what he says the Ghost Zone is actually called. The Infinite Realms.”

“Huh. I’ll have to check JL databases, see if they have any information on them.”

Tucker asked something in Esperanto and Bart burst out laughing as Wulf looked on in confusion.

With Bart’s help, though, he rephrased until Wulf was able to reply. And then the three kept to Esperanto. Tim really had to find time to learn it.

Sam was the next to arrive. She grinned and sat down next to Conner. “How you liking the music?”

Conner grinned and showed her the sheets where he ranked the bands so far based on which songs he’d listened to. She then took over the speakers and searched for specific tracks to try and change his mind about some of the bands he liked the least.

Tim let his eyes close as his friends’ voices washed over him.

After some indeterminate time where he dozed between sleeping and awareness, a foot nudged his hip. Tim grumbled out what was supposed to be a, “What?” but was too mumbled to really be understood.

“Come on, Secrets. You can do better than that.”

Tim cracked an eye open to see Danny grinning down at him. He pushed himself up slightly and blinked heavily in the sunlight.

“Finally got away from your parents?” asked Tim.

Danny collapsed on the ground next to him. “Ugh, don’t remind me. They’re freaking out over everything that’s happened the last few days. Jazz and I are basically going to be on lock down until they feel confident the ghosts are gone.”

“Did you have to sneak out to get here?” asked Cassie.

Danny shook his head. “No, I told them I was going to find you guys to make sure you were all safe. You’re welcome to come back to ours tonight, by the way. Mom and Dad basically insisted on it.”

“What do you guys think?” asked Tim. “Spend one more night here at Danny’s and head out in the morning?”

Cassie sighed. “My mom’s already freaking out that I’ve been gone longer than planned. I should get back tonight.”

“I’ll stay,” offered Conner. “I’m your ride home, anyway.”

“Why don’t you come to my place, Conner,” offered Sam. “Your nails need a fresh coat after fighting today. And I need teach you about the different brands of makeup and what to look for in terms of cost, quality, and ethicality. Plus I can get you more music.”

Tim laughed when Conner looked to him. “Go for it. Have fun.”

Conner grinned. “Then yeah, let’s do it!”

Bart shrugged. “Wulf is going to go back to the Realms soon. I’ll head out after. Wally and Linda want me over for a family dinner tonight.”

“Well, looks like that’s it, then,” sighed Danny. “Been fun having other heroes around.”

Tim nudged his shoulder. “Join the Young Justice. You could join us and we'd help out whenever you wanted. Get you around people who actually appreciate what you do for them.”

But Danny was already shaking his head. “I have to stay here. And now Amity trusts heroes even less. I want to improve that, not make it worse.”

“Even if you don’t join,” declared Conner. “You’re not getting rid of us now.”

Bart nodded his agreement. “Yep. We’re gonna be stopping by all the time. You’re in the group chat.”

“Exactly,” agreed Tim. “And we’ll figure out ways to help you. Starting with how to minimize property damage. That seems to be the big thing people focus on. You can make shields, right? How big can you make them and how much power do they take?”

Danny smiled wryly. “Can’t say I’ve really tested it.”

Tim laughed. “Well, I know one thing we’re doing tonight. We’re going to go back to Nasty Burger—” Tim looked around at the whole group “—all of us. Then Cassie and Bart are going to go home. Danny and I, at least, are going to take a nap. Then we’re gonna test the current limits to Danny’s powers.”

Danny bumped their shoulders together. “You know, this is just like gaming with you all those years.”

“Yeah, well, it’s best to be thorough.”

“We’ve measured, like, his top speed and stuff,” said Tucker, pulling out a PDA. “Want to see what we’ve got so far?”

“Absolutely.” Tim took the device and looked through it. “You’ve a decent amount of information here. Maybe instead of taking a nap, I’ll help you organize it and come up with a testing plan.”

Conner flew over to him and pulled the PDA out of his hand. “Not after pulling an all-nighter you won’t. We’re going to get some food, then the two of you are going to sleep for at least four hours.”

“I’ll set Jazz on you, too,” threatened Sam. “Don’t think I won’t.”

Tim pouted as the device was given back to Tucker. And grumbled more when Conner picked him up and threw him over his shoulder.

“Come on, food time.”

“I am going to put kryptonite in your phone,” threatened Tim.

“Bingo!” shouted Cassie.

Danny laughed as he stood. “Does this mean I can join the next round?”

Tim scowled. “Traitors, all of you.”

-----

Next

And that's the end of this Arc! Arc 3 will pick up where the original fill did. (Only this time, Tim won't be the only DC character there to help Danny.)

I'd say something like I can't believe it's only been a year, but so much has happened to me in the last twelve months that it feels like a lifetime ago, to be honest. But it's been a good year and I'm glad this community has been part of it.

Please follow the subscription post if you want updates for when I start transferring this arc to AO3 or begin posting Arc 3.