#home tutor academy

[more-than-a-princess]

@yukikorogashi asked: “Well, uhm glad ta hear dat uhm cool, sis. 'Specially from your cool self~” Cue her flexing her arm and placing her other hand over it in a manner similar to the Ultimate Princess~

What We Do In The Shadows prompts - Accepting!

It was easy for Sonia to be blissfully unaware of something until it was staring her right in the face. For so long, she'd take on a strong pose whenever she wanted to encourage someone of their own inner strength, to remind them of their self-worth and capabilities when they felt they had none. It puzzled her, then, why so many people chose to laugh in response, ranging from a polite, suppressed giggle to full-on laughter or a snicker combined with an eye roll. The latter she didn't care for, as it left Sonia feeling like she was being laughed at rather than simply having a lighter heart and outlook of the world. But the former two options, well, she didn't understand why others found it funny.

Until she witnessed Itsuki mimicking her exact same pose. Maybe it was Itsuki's unique accent (Sonia had never heard it before until she'd met her) or how endearing her friend was, earnestly striking the pose she'd seen her senpai perform countless times. But watching Itsuki do so meant Sonia was powerless against a smile and the forthcoming laughter. She was so sweet and kind, to the point that the Ultimate Princess didn't understand how some of her classmates didn't care for mentoring the middle school students. 'A waste of time,' one of them had said, though admittedly with far more expletives that had made Miss Yukizome bring out her bladed weapons again to put him in his place, no matter how much Peko Pekoyama expressed her protest at their teacher's manner of discipline.

For her, it was far more interesting than memorizing Novosonian law of the past two hundred years, or writing yet another speech to give at yet another fundraiser with the same people she met at every gala, opening night performance, ball, or party she happened to be invited to and was encouraged (aka. forced, by her parents) to attend.

"Of course you are 'cool,' Itsuki-chan!" Sonia assured her through giggles, catching her breath as she settled into a wide, warm smile. "You are so very passionate about your life, what you do and how you enjoy learning about the lives of others. You are also a generous soul, see?" She paused, holding her wrist up in the air between the two of them where a bracelet was affixed around it. "I wear your gift often, it is very precious to me, as are you."

Still, her choice of words had been deliberate. Reaching into a tote bag she'd carried out into the small farm her friend used to perfect her talent, Sonia removed a folded fleece blanket, topped with a layer of waterproof nylon, and handed it to Itsuki. "The thing is, you are also very cool and I worry you may get sick if you become too cool, the weather is turning quite cold soon. And even if you are accustomed to the chill and snow, it is important to take care of your health. We cannot have snowball fights, after all, if you catch a fever and must remain in bed!" A harrowing possibility, if Itsuki didn't keep warm: Sonia had been raised to treat snowball fights like a proper military battle, and would eagerly instruct her friend in how to strategize, conquer, and win if she allowed her to teach her.

[musicacademykarachi]

Music teachers available in Karachi, Pakistan

The demand for music teachers in Karachi has seen a notable rise in recent years, driven by a growing interest in music education among students of all ages. With the increasing recognition of music as a vital component of holistic education, many parents are seeking qualified instructors to nurture their children’s musical talents. Schools and private institutions are expanding their arts…

[tutorinkarachi]

Music teachers available in Karachi, Pakistan

The demand for music teachers in Karachi has seen a notable rise in recent years, driven by a growing interest in music education among students of all ages. With the increasing recognition of music as a vital component of holistic education, many parents are seeking qualified instructors to nurture their children’s musical talents. Schools and private institutions are expanding their arts…

[ibglobaltutor]

Looking for a qualified IGCSE home tutor? IBGA offers expert, personalized tutoring to help students excel in their IGCSE exams. Our experienced tutors provide tailored lessons to ensure a strong understanding of concepts, boosting confidence and performance. Achieve academic success with IBGA’s dedicated one-on-one IGCSE home tutoring. Contact us today for more details!

[airybcby]

જ⁀♡⊹｡° the world ended when it happened to me

( sae itoshi x fem! reader )

♡ a/n — for my childhood best friends to lover series :)

♡ word count — 1.3k

♡ content — sae itoshi x fem! reader, sae itoshi x fem! reader, angst i fear, goes from childhood to the U-20 game, no real explanation for why sae comes back from spain lowkey evil (canon), rin blames reader for sae changing, rin and reader are best friends, best friends brother trope

♡ synopsis — your whole life you've loved sae itoshi, but maybe childhood love wasn't as glamourous as everyone made it seem.

You were always around the Itoshi brothers.

Rin’s best friend, the annoyingly happy girl who somehow made yourself at home in their lives. Sae used to think you were a menace, a constant storm of giggles and relentless chatter that disrupted the quiet balance of his house.

You had been Rin Itoshi’s best friend for as long as you could remember — a whirlwind of energy and relentless optimism, the complete opposite of the quiet, serious boy who barely cracked a smile. But for some reason, he tolerated you. Maybe even liked you, though he'd never admit it.

Sae, on the other hand, made no secret of his disdain.

“Why is she always here?” he muttered one afternoon, rubbing his temples as you sang loudly along to a cartoon theme song.

“She’s my friend,” Rin mumbled through a mouthful of snacks.

“She’s annoying,” Sae shot back, glaring as you dramatically collapsed on the floor like you’d been shot.

“I heard that!” you chirped, grinning up at him.

“Good.”

And yet, the first time you barged into his room, he didn’t yell.

He was sick, curled up in bed, voice scratchy as he warned you from across the room, “Get out. You’ll get sick, idiot.”

But you didn’t listen. You tiptoed in, holding out a crumpled drawing with three stick figures labeled "Rin," "Sae," and "Me," all holding hands beneath a bright yellow sun.

“I made this,” you whispered, as if speaking too loudly would break him. “I wanted you to have it.”

Sae stared at the paper, throat tight. He didn’t thank you, didn’t smile, just turned his head and muttered, “Whatever.”

The week he recovered, his phone rang. He sighed when he saw your name, swiping to answer as he rubbed at his temple.

“You were right,” you croaked, voice completely hoarse. “I got sick.”

Sae rolled his eyes, but there was a ghost of a smile tugging at his lips. Yeah. You could stick around.

By the time you started middle school, you were practically part of the Itoshi household. You and Rin stuck together like glue.

You struggled with English — despised it, really — and Rin tried to help, but he wasn’t patient like Sae. So, you turned to the older brother, begging for tutoring sessions.

“No,” he said flatly when you asked.

“Please?” you pleaded, clasping your hands.

“You’re hopeless,” he muttered, but he still helped you.

Sae pretended to hate it, acted like he was being forced to suffer through your presence. But he showed up every day after school, meticulously explaining grammar rules while you doodled on the edges of your notebook.

Somewhere along the way, he started looking forward to those afternoons.

He liked the way you tilted your head when you were confused, how you brightened like the sun when he praised you for getting an answer right. He liked that it was just the two of you — no Rin, no distractions. Just you and him, your elbow knocking against his as you leaned in close to read from his textbook.

And maybe, in your twelve-year-old heart, you started feeling the same.

When Sae was recruited for the Real Madrid Academy at thirteen, the entire town buzzed with excitement. Everyone said it was a miracle, that Sae Itoshi would change Japanese soccer forever.

You were proud of him. But when you lay in bed that night, staring at your ceiling, all you wanted was to beg him to stay.

To keep being your tutor. To keep being around.

The night before he left, Sae texted you to meet him at the park. You assumed Rin would be there, but when you asked, Sae just shrugged.

“He fell asleep,” he said, licking his ice cream.

The truth was, he hadn’t told Rin at all.

You sat on the bench together, you pouting as you flipped the stick in your hand to reveal the kanji for "bad luck," while Sae’s said "good luck."

“Why are you lucky at everything?” you grumbled, tossing your stick aside.

Sae chuckled, the sound low and rare. He started dribbling his soccer ball between his feet, gaze focused as he said, “You can still call me, you know?”

“Huh?”

“For school stuff. Or... whatever.” He didn’t look at you when he said it.

In your childish mind, that was enough. You smiled, bright and unburdened.

“It’s a promise!”

“Yeah,” Sae echoed, teal eyes flicking to yours. “It’s a promise.”

He left a week later.

Rin fell apart without his brother. You stayed by his side, comforting him through the ache of Sae’s absence. And yet, you hid your phone under your pillow at night, quietly texting Sae about homework or your day.

You stayed by Rin’s side, comforting him, hiding the fact that you and Sae texted constantly. He never texted Rin. Only you.

Two years of texts and rare calls passed, and one night, the realization hit you like a freight train: you were in love with Sae.

You’d loved him since he got you sick, since he bought you ice cream, since he promised you could still talk to him.

You’d loved him since he caught the flu,

Since he drew diagrams in your notebook to help you with prepositions,

Since he made that promise to answer your calls.

One late-night call sealed your fate.

As you rambled on the phone about school, Sae mumbled, half-asleep, “I love your voice.”

You stopped talking, heart hammering, but by the time you opened your mouth to respond, he was snoring.

“I love you, Sae,” you whispered into the receiver.

“I love you too,” he muttered, voice thick with sleep, one eye cracking open to catch your stunned expression.

From then on, you and Sae were together. Quietly, distantly, but together.

When Sae came back at seventeen, he didn’t tell you.

Rin did.

rin-rin: Sae’s home

his text said.

rin-rin: I hope you enjoy that you’ve ruined him

You panicked, blowing up Rin’s phone with calls he never answered, some being sent straight to voicemail after the first few tries. And then Sae was at your door, taller, sharper, his face unreadable.

You burst into tears before you even spoke.

“Please talk to Rin,” you begged, clutching at his sleeve. “I don’t know what I did wrong, but I’ll fix it — please, just talk to him—”

But the look in Sae’s eyes was like ice, gorgeous, but dangerous- unsafe- fated to slip away

“You’re a bother,” he said, voice flat.

You froze.

“Huh?”

“You’ve clung to me since you were a kid. You’re nothing but a disease I need to get rid of.”

You laughed, shaky and desperate. “Sae, that’s not funny—”

“I’m not joking. I’m done with you.”

The wind howled as snowflakes caught in his hair. You collapsed to the floor, hugging your knees as Sae turned on his heel, leaving you crumpled on your doorstep, the door swinging in the cold winter wind.

You lost both Itoshis in one night. And you didn’t even know why.

A year and a half later, you sat alone in your living room, watching the Blue Lock vs. Japan U-20 match.

Rin, your old best friend, was on one team. Sae, your first love, was on the other.

And you stayed home, stuck in the same town, the same life, still struggling with English.

The camera zoomed in on Sae’s face, and something inside you snapped.

Without thinking, you hurled the remote at the screen, a crack spiderwebbing across his perfect, indifferent, calm, beautiful, heartbreakingly distant expression

The TV shut off, leaving you in suffocating silence.

Sae Itoshi had everything he wanted — fame, success, the world at his feet.

And you were still here. Stuck. Left behind.

Trying to understand how the world ended for you, while for Sae, it had only just begun.

You curled up on the couch, burying your face in a pillow as the weight of it all crushed you.

You’d lost them. Both of them.

And you didn’t even know why.

GO LISTEN TO WE HUG NOW BY SYDNEY ROSE NOW!!

likes, comments, and reblogs are appreciated!

[written-in-knife]

Hi! Can I request a platonic relationship with Crowley or Crewel? For example, they adopt a reader (officially on paperwork, or emotionally) and suddenly the reader just falls through some portal and ends up in another world. And Crowley/Crewel just *dad panic, -1000 nerve cells*. At the end all is well and they reunite!Another point, you didn't ask for it, but I'll say it (sorry). Put two tags in your fanfics "TWST × reader" and "Twisted Wonderland × reader" (put both at once) so more people will see you!

Watching and Waiting

Parental!Crewel & gn!Reader

Fluff, slight angst, hurt/comfort? a single sentence of a little hurt/no comfort at the very end sorryy

Word count: 4049

That tip does actually really help and I will do that from now on, thank you! I really love the idea of the staff pseudo-adopting the main character, but I'm OBSESSED with Papa Crewel. And to demonstrate, I'm going to get completely carried away with this prompt! HERE WE GO!

When it came to the student body of Night Raven College, Crewel had a certain level of fondness for all of them. He was strict, of course, he wanted nothing but to see them succeed, but there was a little bit of pride he took in every class. Diligent juniors who'd been with him for a handful of years at this point, most of whom exceeded his every expectation and the rest who at least performed the required tasks with the skills he'd taught them. Flighty but extremely talented sophomores who managed to impress him at every turn in one way or another. Even the freshmen, a group of troublemakers to be sure, but malleable, sharp minds that just needed to focus up to learn the material and they'd be well on their way to excelling in his class.

Then there was you.

Crowley had called a staff meeting to explain the situation to the teachers once you and Grim had proven yourselves worthy to become two halves of a whole student. Trein had asked if there was an active search on figuring out a way to send you home to your own world, and Crowley responded with a very flippant yes that left a sour taste on everyone's tongue. Once it was announced that you had been placed in Class A, Crewel's homeroom, he silently vowed to keep an eye on you. Just that. A magicless student in a magic academy in a world they were not at all familiar with felt to him very much like a wounded puppy being circled by vultures. He wouldn't treat you any differently, of course, you were simply a few steps behind and needed someone watching your back whether you knew the eyes were there or not.

So he watched. He watched as those friends of yours extorted you when you were at your wits end with Grim, he watched you struggling with Grim. He watched you in the second-hand uniform with hastily stitched repairs that was at least a size too big and getting bigger on you as you were not being provided with enough money to feed yourself and Grim AND repair your dorm. He watched as you tried to make Ramshackle habitable, and he watched as you over-extended yourself to put an end to Riddle Rosehearts and Leona Kingscholar's overblots. And when he watched you in the nurse's office just laughing off your injuries the day of the Spelldrive tournament, Crewel decided he was done watching.

It started small at first. He'd discussed with Trein about what subjects you were struggling in, not surprised to hear they were all magic based subjects, then held you back after class to offer to tutor you in those subjects under the guise of wanting all his pups to succeed. Which he did, of course. You agreed to the after school tutoring, which Grim very loudly refused to attend. Every other day after school, you met up with Crewel his classroom to tackle some subject or other more in depth while he graded assignments, and before you left, he would hand you a large container with food in it.

"This is cutting into your dinner time, is it not?" He explained when you asked about it. "I'm not a monster, I wouldn't expect you to go without eating all night."

"You don't have to go out of your way, Professor." You sighed, too hungry to deny the free food.

"Hardly. It's leftovers from last night," a lie, but you didn't need to know that, "I won't miss them."

Crewel caught you back up in your subjects fairly quickly, you were a diligent student. As the days went on, he watched some life return to your face until he could no longer find that ravenous look deep behind your eyes. He started setting a portion of his salary aside and bringing it to Sam, telling him to keep it for when you came by to purchase anything, giving him a little extra to not tell you where it was coming from. He felt a little swell of pride in his chest when he heard you bragging to Ace and Deuce about your grocery run being paid for. He was comfortable with this, happy enough not watching you wasting away and seeing you beginning to thrive in this school. He knew you could hold your own after handling two overblots, so he knew you could handle yourself against the Octavinelle trio when they came for your dorm. And of course you did. He felt that swell of pride again, stronger than he felt for his other students. Then again, his other students didn't have to fight nearly as hard as you did. Before he left for the winter break, he left a parcel on your doorstep that contained a thick pair of gloves, a fur lined hat, a cashmere scarf, and an old brown fur jacket of his. He worried it may not fit, but he refused to leave you to freeze while he was gone. He left a note in the box on top of the items.

"A small reward for your hard work this semester. Enjoy your holiday, you earned it. D. Crewel"

When he came back from the winter break, he was disappointed to find your school uniform in worse condition than when he left, a jacket sleeve hanging on for dear life, poorly patched holes in the knees, one of your shoes peeling away from the soles. He refused to let that go on any longer than it needed to, bringing you to Sam's himself to get you fitted for a new uniform. When you tried to insist that you could pay, Crewel insisted that it wasn't necessary, citing that he couldn't have any of his pups looking less than their best for the upcoming culture fair. When you tried to bring up the winter clothing he'd left you, he brushed off your thanks with a wave of his hand.

"We can find something more suitable to your style before your next winter." He insisted as he gently adjusted your tie. "I couldn't have one of my best freshmen freezing to death while I was gone, could I?"

Despite being caught up to the other students in your subjects, you still came by after class, more often to gossip over whatever meal Crewel had brought with him than to study. You told him about what happened over the winter break, and how the Octavinelle trio actually ended up helping you out. You told him about Ace and Deuce showing up after everything had been resolved, how they got there by train and boat and foot because they had been so worried about you. You kept him up to date about how your dorm, finally at least clean and presentable, had been offered up for the SDC group headquarters. He occasionally had gossip for you, making you swear not to spread anything around before he would tell you anything. It was usually student gossip that was being spread around anyways, some spat in Savanaclaw, an Ignihyde student locking down a portion of the school website to blast photos of another student doing something embarrassing, and so on. He wouldn't admit it to a soul in the world, not even you, but you were swiftly becoming his favorite. Remarkable grades for someone who didn't even know the Great Seven at the beginning of the school year, the admirable bravery and kindness it took to stop five overblots in their tracks, you were impressive. That feeling of pride in his chest eventually never left.

When the Ferrymen came to remove students and take them to Styx, when he heard two of his students were injured, he sprinted down to the nurses office, feeling a bit shameful in the amount of relief he felt that you were not in one of the beds. When you did show up to check on your friends, he patched up the few scrapes you did have and insisted you didn't do anything rash. He knew how much you'd grown to care for Grim, but you had to leave this to the faculty. He was already boiling with rage at the injuries Ace and Deuce had sustained, if Crowley wouldn't handle this, he'd figure out a way to handle it himself. He should've realized that would be your mindset as well. He was furious when he heard you'd gone off with Rook and Epel to find everyone that had been taken, but more than that, he was afraid. He was afraid you wouldn't come back, and all he could do was wait and watch. When you did eventually come back, Crewel had an entire lecture planned for you, explaining how reckless and irresponsible it was to go running off with Rook and Epel to find Styx like that, how you could've been injured or worse, how he expected better from you. You took it like a champ, fully expecting the lecture before you even went after Rook in the first place. But you were safe, everyone was safe, that's all that mattered to you. You could sit through one lecture. When Crewel finally ran out of steam, he stepped forward and put his hands on your shoulders, getting you to look back up at him.

"I'm glad you're safe, pup, but don't you even think of doing something like this ever again."

"Okay, Dad."

You both froze, but for different reasons. You couldn't believe you slipped up and called a teacher dad, you were extraordinarily embarrassed. Crewel on the other hand was putting a name to exactly what that feeling of pride in his chest is every time he sees you succeed. You may not be his by blood or by law, but you are his. He ruffled your hair and sent you away with an order to rest up after your adventure.

You still came by his office after school, raving about a good grade on a history test or complaining about Grim and Ace getting you and Deuce in trouble in Vargas's class. It felt much lighter than when you first joined him in his office at the beginning of the school year, you had been so tense back then. You eventually took to calling him Dad on occasion, mostly when you were teasing him about something or other. He'd never imagined himself as a father, but he supposed at some point he had decided you were his kid, even subconsciously. It was probably the day he'd decided to stop watching, as soon as he closed that distance in his mind, you became his child. He wouldn't admit it out loud to you, or anyone for that matter, but he did consider you to be his family at this point.

In the meantime, Crowley had been actually, finally, working on a way to send you home, mirrors now lining his office, portals in the frames to different places in Twisted Wonderland, a few that go beyond but not correctly. Not to your home. Crowley had confided in Crewel that he wasn't sure he was going to find you a way home before the end of the school year, not sure what to do with you since they couldn't keep you on campus. Crewel offered up his home in half a heartbeat, more than willing to keep watching over you over the summer should it come to that. They were discussing the logistics of it in Crowley's office when you came into the room, stepping off to the side by the wall when you realized they were speaking, waiting your turn. You were standing in front of a large, full body mirror that nearly reached the ceiling in height when the door slammed open again, shaking the walls, Riddle scolding Kalim for opening the door so recklessly as the rest of the Housewardens filed in behind them. They all got a front row seat to watch the large mirror at your back teeter back and forth for a second, then topple forward and on top of you before you could even realize to dive out of the way. The mirror shattered when it landed flat on the floor, no sign of you underneath. Despite that, Crewel ran to it, enlisting Leona to help him lift it, desperately hoping to find you injured but alive. Find you there. But the only thing below the frame were the splinters of glass, now just reflecting the room instead of a swirling portal.

You were gone.

Crewel nearly throttled Crowley to get any information about that portal that he could. All Crowley could provide was the number he'd written on the back of the frame, a three, and suggested there may be others with that number. Other mirrors had recognizable names on the back, Clock Town square, Fleur City waterways, Scalding Sands outskirts. A few also had numbers, three ones, a five, two busted mirrors with a four on the back and the word dangerous, two had apparently been so uninhabitable that he tossed the mirror out entirely. He explained that he wasn't sure where the numbered mirrors led, they were not familiar lands to him. The ones all led to the exact same spot in a field of flowers he'd never laid eyes on, nor had you upon bringing one back, the five led to the inside of a locked room with lettering inscribed in the walls that you didn't recognize from your world. Three had led to a bustling city street. Crowley had led you through it once during his investigations. You recognized the area, but it was wrong. The way you'd described it was that it looked like three major cities from your world had been mashed together, and the lettering on the signs was unlike anything you'd seen. It wasn't home, but it had given Crowley the idea that he'd been getting close. Crewel sent the Housewardens out of the office at the explanation, and no one argued with his tone, the group of them too shaken by watching their friend disappear before their eyes.

"Bring them back." Crewel snapped as soon as the door closed behind the students.

"I'm sure they're fine, Divus, they even said themselves that it was similar to their home--"

Crewel grabbed him by the lapels on his jacket and dragged him back over to the shattered remains of the mirror. "Similar is not good enough, Dire." He snarled at the man. "You swore you would send them home, not abandon them in another unfamiliar place. Now, it is my pup that is lost as a result of your negligence and you will bring them back here, or so help me, I will--!"

"Alright! Yes, I will work on getting another portal open to them, but it will take time." Crowley agreed, if only to soothe over Crewel's rage. "It took months to find something that resembled their home the first time, and I haven't managed it again."

"Then I guess you had better get started."

The waiting was by far the hardest part. Every day for the first two weeks he would stop by Crowley's office to make sure he was working towards getting you back and to see if there were any developments. There were none. He was there in that office every day he didn't have classes, trying desperately to open the right portal. He and Crowley had told the Housewardens not to say anything to anyone yet, not wanting to worry the friends Crewel had watched you make. After the first two weeks of waiting, they could no longer keep it from Grim. Surprisingly enough, after telling him the news, Grim decided to stick close to Crewel in his free time. He's quieter now that you're missing, knowing he can't do anything. And Crewel said nothing. Azul and Riddle offered Crowley their help in creating portals to try to bring you back, Crewel almost had to threaten him to let them help. Eventually, when news finally spread about the reason behind your disappearance, Malleus came by to offer his assistance as well. It had been four weeks at this point, the five of them working together had managed to open eight new portals to places they didn't recognize, getting rid of every portal that led to another place in Twisted Wonderland to make room for the portals to other worlds in case one of them led to you and they just didn't realize it yet.

The waiting was agonizing. Crewel would, more often than not, end up sleeping at his desk in his office after staying too late with Crowley making portals and having to stay up longer to grade assignments. His office felt so quiet without you inserting yourself every day, he'd gotten so used to grading papers while you talked to him about your day that it was now hard to focus on it in the silence. But he had a duty to all his other students. So he kept teaching, training his other pups correctly lest they stray in his absence. But even the students noticed the change. He was quicker to anger, more harsh in his grading which they didn't think was possible, less tolerant of even the smallest mistakes. Trein had to pull him aside one day, three weeks after, to tell him he needed to take a break, that students were confiding in him about Crewel's behavior. He knew how he was acting, he knew how exhausted he was, but how could he be expected to stop when he knew you were out there somewhere? His kid was missing somewhere so far out of reach that finding them was, at this point, down to a shot in the dark, how could he be expected to take a break?

Four weeks had gone by with no sign of the portal you'd gone through. Riddle had dropped his appearances down to just the weekends, Azul had stopped coming entirely while claiming that he had to focus on the Lounge, Malleus returned every day like clockwork to try to find his dearest friend, but even he was starting to lose hope. Crewel still spent every waking moment that he wasn't fulfilling his role as a teacher on finding you. He had to drag Crowley back into the search a few times, and they'd fought about it more than once. Crewel, exhausted from lack of sleep and daily accumulation of blot, would shout at Crowley for not caring nearly enough that one of the students was missing, not caring enough to put his all into finding them again, how it was just like him to think his problems were solved once you were out of reach. Crowley would argue back that he was doing all he could, but he couldn't drop everything to look for one student when there were hundreds more to look after. They were in the middle of one of their arguments when Riddle stepped out of one of the portals, a medium sized vanity mirror they'd hung on the wall.

"Excuse me, Headmaster?" Riddle called out, causing the men to stop shouting long enough to listen. "You said it was a city street corner, correct?"

"Neon lights and the smell of the ocean, yes." Crowley nodded, crossing his arms.

"I believe I found it."

The two men glanced at each other quickly, silently agreeing to set aside their differences for the moment, and rushed forward to the mirror, letting it pull them through to the other side. They stepped out and landed on a cracked sidewalk atop a hill, neon lights reflecting off the puddles on the road, cars rushing past. Looking back, it seemed their portal had manifested in the window of a shop, the display inside blocking anyone in the store from seeing them suddenly appear in the street.

"This is it." Crowley confirmed before turning to go back through the portal. "I'll go see about getting a search party together and we can--"

Crewel didn't wait for him to finish, cupping his hands around his mouth and shouting your name down the street. There was barely any chance you stuck around on this road for four weeks, but he had to try. He didn't notice Crowley step through the portal again, and he paid no mind to the people watching him shouting your name like a mad man. He had to try. They'd found the connection, they'd come this far, you were within reach again, he couldn't just give up now. He wandered down the street, still shouting your name. The sun was setting on this unfamiliar world, he didn't want to risk not being able to find the portal home again for fear of not being able to lead you to it, but he couldn't just give up now. He ran a hand through his already messy hair in distress, eyes darting frantically around at the faces that were passing him by. Where would you have gone if you left? He didn't want to even entertain the idea of the worst having happened. The sun had disappeared below the horizon and his voice had gone hoarse from yelling when he heard it. He wasn't exactly sure what it was over the sounds of the cars rushing past and over the puddles in the road, but it made ears perk up. He looked around again, spinning around to try to find where it had come from when he heard it again, across the street. Your voice.

"Dad?!" You shouted over the rush of the cars, absolutely beaming when he finally made eye contact.

"Pup!" Crewel nearly collapsed in relief, he could feel tears gathering in the corners of his eyes.

"Hold on, I'm coming to you! Just stay there!" You shouted back, bouncing in place for a moment before disappearing into the crowd.

He felt the anxiety take hold again once he couldn't see you anymore, but you looked fine. Healthy, not injured, fed, even from a distance he could tell you were okay. He took his moment alone to thank the Sevens for that, if nothing else.

"How did you find me?!" You asked through a laugh as you emerged from the crowd and approached him.

You met his hug with equal fervor as he pulled you tight against him, the relief of having you within arms reach shattering any remaining decorum his sleep deprivation had left him with. He didn't hold you long, however, pulling you back by the shoulders to examine you. He was right. Healthy, not injured, not starving. A little dirty, bags under your eyes, but those could be fixed. You were safe, and that was all that mattered.

"We've been looking for you for weeks, Pup." He admitted, shoulders sagging under the weight of the relief. "Are you alright?"

"Yeah, I'm alright. I tried to get back through the portal but it must've closed behind me." You chuckled as you showed him your knuckles, cuts scabbed over now. "I got pissed off and punched it. I'm just glad I didn't get arrested for breaking the window, honestly."

"You and me both." Crewel shook his head, thinking it just like you. "The mirror shattered when it hit the floor, that's why you couldn't get back. You don't look like you've been sleeping in alleys, at least."

"No, I found a shelter to stay at, and I've been coming back here every day to wait for someone to come get me." You explained quickly. "I'm so glad you came."

"Of course I did." He sighed, putting a hand on top of your head. "I wasn't about to leave you here."

"Thanks Dad." You said quietly, stepping forward to hug him again. He held you close, rubbing your back as he did. "Can we go home now?"

"Yes, Pup. Let's go home."

Upon your return to Twisted Wonderland, while you were greeting Riddle and Malleus who had just been waiting for you to emerge, Crewel finally realized he could put words to the worry he was feeling during the waiting.

He didn't know how he was supposed to say good-bye to his child once Crowley finally found the right connection to send you home.

I DO NOT GIVE PERMISSION TO USE MY WORK TO TRAIN AI

MASTERLIST

[stiltonbasket]

What is your flavor of "accidental sugar daddy SY"?

ao3 link

When Shen Yuan first transmigrated into the world of Proud Immortal Demon Way some thirty years earlier, he knew nothing about the strange universe he had landed in.

He had heard about the novel before, albeit in no great detail. Shen Yuan watched it climb to the top of Zhongdian’s ranking page while he was busy catching up on A Chronicle of Primordial Wars: but he never bothered to read it, or join the fan forums—a decision he regretted immensely when he opened his eyes, a newborn again, and found the System’s welcome screen flashing over his head.

What was the premise of the plot? Where in the timeline was he? What was the main character’s name? What was his name?

Who knew? Not Shen Yuan! He could guess that the novel’s protagonist was some kind of demon, given the title: but in spite of his pleas to learn more about the story, the System was completely uninterested in enlightening him. According to his task list, Shen Yuan’s only mission—if it could be called a mission—was to educate himself about the world: and after it was assigned to him, the System disappeared.

It wasn’t a bad transmigration experience, so far as such things went. Shen Yuan was reborn as the only son of a wealthy merchant family with few members, and consequently more lands and money than it knew what to do with. He was indulged in all ways; his parents bought him every bestiary and cultivation manual they could get their hands on, and then hired a cultivation tutor after a passing daoshi examined him and exclaimed at Shen Yuan’s cultivation potential. His parents would not allow him to seek admission at one of the four great sects, since they had no second son to take over their jewelry business; but they did not object to him learning how to cultivate at home.

Shen Yuan’s life was as close to perfect as could be, until his parents were killed in a bandit raid two months before his eighteenth birthday.

The less said of that year the better, he thought.

When the funeral was over, Shen Yuan left the Shen estate in the hands of his father’s steward and spent the next months wandering the countryside as a rogue cultivator. After all, there was nothing left for him at the manor: and since that was the case, he might as well make himself useful elsewhere.

On the first anniversary of his parents’ deaths, he stumbled on a group of slavers hunting in the streets of Jinlan: and in that moment, Shen Yuan decided that he had found his life’s purpose.

The Shen-fu was far too grand for a household of one, anyway.

___

“A sponsorship for orphaned cultivators?”

Shen Yuan takes a sip of tea and eyes the Cang Qiong cultivator before him with some interest. 

In the years since he dissolved the slavers’ gang in Jinlan, the Shen-fu has transformed from a tasteful merchant’s estate to a crowded academy for cultivation hopefuls and children from all corners of the country—most of whom had been slaves or street-children, like the first band of ducklings Shen Yuan brought back to the manor when he was eighteen. Others came to stay at the Shen-fu because they were orphaned, or because their families could not afford to educate them; but whatever their origins, Shen Yuan’s pupils are well-loved and well-tended, and attend to their studies with such diligence that the great sects would be lucky to have any one of them. 

Shen Yuan himself has become a figure of some renown, by virtue of having taught several young disciples who distinguished themselves at Cang Qiong and Zhao Hua: and as a result of his success with his eldest students, the Shen-fu is among the estates being courted by the spokesmen of An Ding Peak’s new patronage program.

“Peak Lord Shang said you would be interested, Shen-daye,” his guest says earnestly. “In theory, cultivation sects provide for their disciples regardless of background, and reliance on family wealth is strongly discouraged—but in truth, it is difficult for disciples without family to find a place among their shixiongdi. Well-to-do households send money to pay for better materials and trips into town; and even if the children are willing to share treats among themselves, things often become awkward when the poorer disciples have nothing to give in return.

“And of course there are visiting days, when disciples without kin must remain at the sect while their classmates go to see their parents. Put together, all this can be hard to bear.”

“Say no more. This master understands,” Shen Yuan sighs. “Children without protectors are easy to bully. Such things rarely happen at my estate, for nearly all of my charges are poor, but at a great sect like Cang Qiong…”

The cultivator nods. “Exactly.”

Shen Yuan leans forward and replenishes the man’s cup of tea. “What would my part in this venture be, then?”

“That would depend on Shen-daye. Some of the patrons will send a fixed sum of money a few times a year, and others prefer to send supplies and invitations to dine on New Year—but it is possible for the patron and disciple to become adopted kin, of a kind. The disciple would receive coin and gifts and such; but they would also have a have a place at the patron’s home thereafter, and be considered the patron’s ward until one party wishes to end the agreement.”

Shen Yuan thinks for a moment.

“It would be no hardship for me to take the last option,” he says at length. “My estate is large, and the family business is doing well. Another child would hardly be a burden.”

“That is—most good of you,” the cultivator says, startled. “Shall we give you time to make arrangements, or…?”

“No need. I will set up a room by the next visiting day; but for now, I’ll give you a package to take back with you.”

“This one understands. Would Shen-daye like to see the list of children, so that he might choose which one to support?”

“I suppose I might as well.”

The cultivator reaches into his sleeve and pulls out a bamboo scroll. 

“Here,” he says, handing it to Shen Yuan. “It lists the disciples’ ages and the peak they belong to, as well as the name of the shifu above them.”

Shen Yuan unrolls the scroll and runs a finger down the first column of names. Most of the disciples listed on the right side of the scroll are girls under Peak Lord Shang or Xian Shu’s Qi Qingqi, with some apprenticed to Mu-fengzhu of Qian Cao or to one of two senior cultivators on Bai Zhan; and the boys are listed on the left, with a greater number coming from Ku Xing and Mo Shou. 

However, none of Shen Qingqiu’s former disciples appear on the list in spite of being orphaned—though this only surprises him for a moment, for he soon recalls that he asked them to name him as their next of kin upon arriving at Cang Qiong.

As he continues reading down the list of names, Shen Yuan realizes that two peaks are notably absent: Qiong Ding, which did not put forth a single name; and Qing Jing, whose title precedes the lone name of Luo Binghe, a fourteen-year-old boy studying under Shen Qingqiu.

Shen Yuan’s stomach twists in sympathy. Even he has heard of Shen Qingqiu: for the chief strategist of Cang Qiong Mountain is far better-known for his fondness for cruelty than his achievements as a tactician, and if this poor child is apprenticed to him…

“I’ve decided,” he says aloud. “You may put my name down under Luo Binghe, of Qing Jing Peak.”

His guest nods and makes a note on one of his papers. “And how would Shen-daye like to support him?”

“I’ll send packages once a month with letters to accompany them, unless—ah. Is once a month too often?”

“It is more often than most disciples usually hear from their parents,” the cultivator ventures. “But Shen-daye may write as often as he pleases.”

“That’s good, then. Let Disciple Luo know that he can write to me in turn,” Shen Yuan says, “and as far as visitation goes—tell him that he will be welcome at the Shen-fu for as long as I am the master of it.”

After this exchange, Shen Yuan is presented with a sheaf of papers to sign, all stamped with the seal of An Ding peak; and then he summons one of the servants and orders luncheon for his guest.

“If Daozhang would wait for a little while,” he entreats, rising from his chair, “this master must collect the things for the parcel and write a letter explaining matters to Disciple Luo. I should be finished by the time daozhang has eaten.”

He rustles out of the room without waiting for a reply, leaving two little manservants—the chief housekeeper’s twin sons, who do chores about the house after lessons in exchange for pocket money—to wait on Daozhang Wu.

“Now for the storeroom,” Shen Yuan sighs to himself, rubbing at his temples. “I hope I’ll find something to fit him.”

This is a question of some concern, for the Shen-fu has not hosted a male disciple above thirteen in the last decade. Knowing children as Shen Yuan does now, all that can be certain of any boy of fourteen is that he must be growing like a weed; and with that thought in mind, he makes his way to the storage compound and asks for a few boys’ clothes in the largest size.

“These might not be large enough. The boy is nearly grown,” the steward says doubtfully, as Shen Yuan examines a set of sturdy day robes. “Wang Yufan was the tallest boy we ever had, and he left the manor when he was twelve.”

“You’re right,” sighs Shen Yuan. “For now, fetch the longest robes we have. I’ll pack a few of my own in case the disciples’ clothes don’t fit him.”

But there will be money, too. Not a great deal, but more than enough to buy a few sets of robes from a tailor near Cang Qiong; so Shen Yuan gathers a box of thick-sewn clothes from the storeroom before adding a selection of never-worn garments from his own wardrobe. He takes the box to the hall of spiritual tools next, and then to the kitchen: and when the box is full, he writes a letter to his new charge and seals it before returning to the receiving room.

“Thanking daozhang for his patience,” he says, somewhat flustered. “The package took longer to assemble than this master expected.”

“No matter,” Wu-daozhang replies. He is sitting in Shen Yuan’s best armchair with the housekeeper’s boys on either side of him; for the three of them are half-way through a game of weiqi, which Wu-daozhang appears to be losing on purpose.

Shen Yuan’s mouth twitches. “Wu-daozhang has been well tended to in my absence, it seems.”

“Well-tended indeed,” his guest says, laughing. “From what this one has seen so far, Shen-daye, your disciples are a great credit to you.”

He frees himself from the chair with some difficulty, since Hua Ruoman’s sons are clinging to his coat and pleading with him not to go; but Shen Yuan chivvies the boys down the hall to their qin lesson before handing over Luo Binghe’s care package.

“Remind Disciple Luo that this master is awaiting his reply,” he says anxiously, as Wu-daozhang prepares to depart from the gates of the Shen-fu. “There are clothes in the parcel, but I did not know his size—so if they do not fit him, he should write back with a set of measurements or take some of the money I sent to change the clothes for better ones. And tell him that he should open the box as soon as he can; I packed some food in a reinforced shihe, and it should keep for the next fortnight—but the snacks will taste best if he eats them right away.”

A bewildered look comes over Wu-daozhang’s face. “Shen-daye—”

“He might try to ration the snacks, since most cultivation sects serve only simple food,” Shen Yuan entreats, wringing his hands. “Tell him that he must not worry about saving them. If he wants more, he need only ask, and this master will send another package. Children need treats now and then to help them concentrate on their studies.”

“Ah, Shen-daye, that isn’t really…”

“And the books—! I should have mentioned it in the letter. Listen, daozhang—this teacher has a tab for former students at the bookseller nearest Cang Qiong; so if Disciple Luo requires any texts for his own use, he should go down the mountain and buy what he wants. Ku Xing’s Wang Yufan can show him how. And—”

“Surely all this must be enough for the first month,” Wu-daozhang protests, backing away. “Thank you very much for your kindness, Shen-daye; but now this one really must be off, or I will be late back to An Ding.”

And then—without another word—he jumps onto his sword and flies off.

Presently, a small hand tugs at Shen Yuan’s sleeve.

“What was all that about, shifu?” says a little voice at his elbow. “What did that daozhang want?”

Shen Yuan stoops and lifts Hua Yun into his arms. “He was bringing a new shixiong for you and Cao’er,” he smiles. “He is to be this teacher’s ward; and if all goes well, we might get to meet him sometime in the next year.”

“A new shixiong?” Hua Cao squeals. 

“En, just like your Yufan-shixiong and the rest of the big brothers.”

“What’s his name?”

“He is called Luo Binghe, and he is a disciple at Cang Qiong Mountain—where Yufan and your Feng’er-jie are studying, remember? When he comes to visit us, you and Yun’er must call him Luo-shixiong.”

With that, Shen Yuan closes the gate and takes the children’s hands; and as they walk back to the house, he realizes that he seems to have heard the name Luo Binghe somewhere before.

___

Dated: Taoyue 8

To Disciple Luo Binghe of Qing Jing Peak; Cang Qiong Mountain Sect, care of Wu Shaojiang

Luo-gongzi,

I do not know if your shixiongs and shishu on An Ding have explained matters to you; but in case they have not, this master is the patron assigned to you through An Ding Peak’s sponsorship scheme. I am called Shen Yuan, and am a cultivator nearly one-and-thirty years of age. I am writing from Shuizhai, a little country town on the western outskirts of Luoyang, where I run a cultivation academy for children between the ages of three and thirteen. Five of my former disciples are your shixiongjie at Cang Qiong, and Binghe should seek them out if he is ever in need. (I have written their names and peaks on the back of this page, so you will know whom to look for.)

The courier who offered me the chance to become your sponsor is waiting in the hall, so I will keep this letter brief. From now on, you are to have full rights as a member of the Shen estate; you may visit whenever you like, as my grown disciples do, and there will always be a place for you under my roof. This master will send you packages every now and then, as I do for your elder disciple-siblings; but since I do not know your tastes, I fear that Binghe will find this first parcel somewhat lacking. I put in a few clothes, since I know how quickly you disciples go through them, and a little coin so that you can buy replacements if the garments I sent do not fit. There is also a meal-box, and a few tools you may find useful in the absence of a good spiritual sword (which, if I am correct, you will not receive until your third or fourth year of study).  Lastly, I packed a couple of books for Binghe to keep: though these will likely be no great help to you, since I hear your Qing Jing is home to the finest library at Cang Qiong.

If anything is unsatisfactory, Binghe should tell this master so at once; but either way, you must write back with a proper introduction, so that your new shidimei and I can become acquainted with you. You see, there are more than forty of them, some nearly as old as you and some barely bigger than babies in arms; and once the children hear that they have another shixiong, they will not let this old teacher rest until I can tell them something about you!

Yours,

Shen Yuan.

[fancyfeathers]

With the bat family daughter darling, did she already go to the same Gotham rich kid academy or did Bruce have her transfer there?

Referencing this post

Nope, her mom left Gotham before she was born traveled for work so she went with her so essentially she grew up around the world with maybe one or two homes in some place like New York or Singapore where they would stay for longer periods (1-3 months) when not traveling, with a tutor/governess teaching her. Like when her mother was originally engaged to Bruce he was more wealthy than her but she certainly has quite a bit of money to her name, like think Astrid Leong from Crazy Rich Asians, like the the first scene we see her in she buys earrings in Shanghai that cost 1.2 million (at cost), she has money.

Now I think Bruce would want her to attend a private academy, especially with Damian (despite the fact that she is terrified of him, it’s good sibling bonding). Now this could go one of two ways, she wants to go or she does not.

The first of two is if she might not be the best behaved and school would be her only way of socializing with other people her age, she is in a different class than Damian since he’d probably be older than her so he is not there to watch her every move throughout the day despite how much he would try to.

The other way is that she would not want to go to school there, like I mentioned earlier her and her mom had houses in New York and Singapore and while NYC isn’t too far away from Gotham, Singapore is and she has friends in both places and if she went to regular school it would be harder for her to see them when their own families were in town for business or if some good grace allowed it, being able to go back to see them.

Now the second option is very much less unlikely unless there is some serious good behavior from both of the darlings, mother and daughter. Bruce could certainly be convinced, especially after seeing his little girl’s wide smile when she finally gets to see her friends at the wedding of her parents.

Now her brothers certainly would not be happy, namely, and in order of how upset they would be, Damian, Dick, and Tim (Jason would not care enough that it would be a major issue for him).

Damian is very much that scary big brother that scares everyone away, there is no way he can look after her if she is with a bunch of people he’s never met besides maybe once or twice tops.

Dick is clingy, he doesn’t think his baby sister old enough to have friends outside of her family (ignoring the fact that she was raised by her mom and these are the kids she grew up with), he knows she doesn’t like his company much but to see her actually enjoy herself around people he does not know, it gets under his skin.

Then Tim, he has looked into everything about both of their darlings, he knows all about her friends, he knows those friends’ parents are friends of her mother, he knows of those parents and their sketchy business deals that come with most other socialite circles, and Tim certainly does not approve of them because children could turn into into their parents, he just doesn’t like the way it sits with him.

So while Mother!Darling tries to convince Bruce of allowing her to homeschool Daughter!Darling, the little girl is in the other room playing, pretending her old friends are with her.

[lazycats-stuff]

Can we get batfam x male brother Reader who is a professional pianist and travels the world performing solo or with an orchestra (your choice) and nobody in the family notices that he is gone except Titus and Alfred (the cat) who sit by the grand piano in the manor and whine because there is no music. Your choice on how the story ends.

Big fan of your writing.

Sure, lets do it. Fair warning, I'm not a pianist or a musician, so just a heads up. And yes, this is short, but, exams, exams and praying to pass the year.

Summary: (Y/N) is a world know pianist. The only problem is that his family doesn't seem to notice him leaving for performances.

Warnings: everyone forgot about (Y/N), besides the furry residents, (Y/N) is a musician.

(Y/N)'s life was always connected to music. Ever since he was a little boy, he would be sitting at the piano, pressing at the keys, enjoying the sound of the notes and melodies he made and he enjoyed the rhythm very much. He had a highly trained ear for anything related to music and Bruce noticed that early on.

No one could deny that (Y/N) had a special connection to music and so Bruce hired a tutor for (Y/N), a renowned teacher who was well known for her tough love, but still loving methods. (Y/N) was genuinely enjoying the lessons and the nurturing of his talent clearly did him well.

He would play whenever he had the time, whenever he could sneak off, (Y/N) would be playing. Bruce would have to force him to study for school, which wasn't a problem for (Y/N) since he was studious enough, but he just wanted to play. Of course, Bruce would make sure that (Y/N) had his breaks, because it's good for your mental health to have breaks.

And to prevent burnout. Just because you love something, doesn't mean you don't need breaks, that was something that Bruce would say rather often.

But as the time went on and the night job as Batman started taking over and over, Bruce was slowly, but surely slowly losing interest in (Y/N)'s passion. He didn't want to lose it, but between his night job, Justice League, his other sons on patrol and then in the Justice Leagues and soon, (Y/N) was forgotten.

The only normal son was forgotten.

That hurt (Y/N) at first, but it is all good to (Y/N). He's a solo performer know the world over, packing concert halls. It took a while to get there, but with finishing a prestigious music academy, pure passion and competitiveness that he inherited from the Wayne family, he made it in the world of classical music.

He would often practice on the grand piano in the Manor, Alfred the cat curling on his lap, not minding the moving of (Y/N)'s legs as he pressed the pedals of the piano to tune the sound. It was oddly comforting to Alfred. And Titus, the big bastard would curl up next to the chair since he couldn't curl up at his feet.

Right now, (Y/N) was travelling all over Europe, performing all over sold out concert halls, to people who shared the same passion for classical music and for piano performances. And Europe was really amazing. Food, history, culture...

It's been a few weeks now and the Manor has been... Quiet. No piano... Nothing. Bruce and the others were just going on with their lives, not really bothered by the silence of the manor. But to the two furry residents, the silence was bothering them. A lot. Alfred the cat would climb around the closed piano, whining at the no sounds coming from it, also missing the owner of the piano as well. He would rub all over the piano, lounge on the chair of the piano, meowing and whining for the music.

Titus, the gentle giant of the two, also lounged around the piano, sniffing, nudging it with his snout, trying to get it playing, whining at it just like Alfred when it didn't start making noise. Moving to the chair, putting his head on it, just like he did when (Y/N) was back home.

But the two furry residents, the silence was torture. And they were patiently waiting for their favorite human residents to come back home. But until then... They would have to suffice with Damian, Dick, Jason and Tim, plus Bruce and actual Alfred who are taking care of them now.

But once (Y/N) is back, they are going to be the first ones to greet him.

[saintzweig]

older next door neighbor!reader x stanford!art

– teehee :3 proofread? do you even know me (of course it's not)

– edit: i actually dont know how to feel abt this so please let me know what u think!!

art donaldson has been harboring a big fat crush on the girl next door for years now. you're two years older than him, already well into college by the time he got accepted into stanford. 4.0 GPA, a great volleyball player and you volunteer at animal shelters, his grandmother loves you– heck, every mother in town loves you. you used to come over atleast once a week, having dinner with him and his grandma. when you started tutoring to earn money, he had you over three times a week to help him even though his grades are doing fine. he reckons he can do better but really he just wants to have you to himself, the two of you locked in his room for hours. of course that changed when you left for college, choosing a university miles away and leaving him alone for the rest of his highschool years.

you come home every break which means that art does too, hoping to catch you and maybe show off a little. after all, he's a man now– he's on the stanford tennis team, he's won multiple tournaments and he's no longer the little nerd you've known since you were kids.

you come over one afternoon, bringing over some fresh brownies that you've made for art and his grandma. he opens the door shirtless, telling you he was just about to jump in the pool but really, he saw you walking over through the window and took his shirt off. he asks you if you want to maybe join, the weather's nice and all and much to his surprise, you agree, saying you have nothing going on anyways. you excuse yourself for a while, wanting to change into something more suitable and he prays it's the red bikini he's seen you wear before.

and it is. you come in and he offers you a cold beer. "beer huh? i didn't know you drink now, donaldson." you say with a slight grin, taking the bottle from him. he watches the way your hands wrapped around the bottle, images of your black manicured nails wrapped around his co–

he makes a comment about having done stuff in stanford, stopping himself from telling you that he's been drinking since he was a teenager, at the academy. with patrick. he doesn't miss the way your eyes lingered on his lips as took a swig of the beer, making him smirk subtly. he leads you to the backyard and you help yourself to a floatie while he sits on the edge of the pool. you paddle yourself softly to the water, leaning back and savoring the sunlight on your skin. he doesn't even try to hide the way he's staring at your chest, not that you can see anyways because your eyes are closed. "my grandma's having a poker game at one of her friend's so it's just us" he tells you.

you begin to ask him questions about his first year in college– how was tennis, how were the parties, any girls?

tennis was great, he says his coaches are really helping him improve and prepare to go pro. parties were crazy, it was loud and sweaty but he doesn't let himself get carried away, being an athlete and all. he's gotten on a few dates and he tells you he's been asked out alot, exaggerating a little bit to show off. you say you weren't surprised and he asks what you mean.

"i mean look at you, you're not bad looking. you're tall, blonde, athletic– girls dig that. you've gotten bigger too"

he smirks, "bigger?" and you only roll your eyes, leaning your head to look up the sky. he jumps in, walking over to you, crossing his arms over the floatie, making you shift slightly. his elbow touching your thigh. "what about you? any guys?" you hum, sipping on your beer. "there was one, but I don't know. didn't really work out" he asks why and you tell him you just don't see yourself dating someone on campus, they're all assholes who don't take anything seriously.

"have you ever dated anyone younger?" to which you raise a brow, only for him to tilt his head with a stupid grin on his face. you shake your head, "i heard younger guys can treat you very well." he says, and you knew exactly what he meant.

that's how you ended up sitting on the edge of the floatie, legs apart with art standing in between. you're leaning back on your arms while his hands are on your thighs, pulling you closer as he place kisses on your skin. your bikini is beginning to get wet, not just from the pool water. he looks up at you, water dripping down from his hair down to his face. "you don't know how long i've been waiting for this."

you almost whined at his expression, eyes wide as he looked up and lips plump, aching to taste you. you lift your hair to push back his curls and he leans into your touch, closing his eyes. "wanna show me how well you can treat me?" he thinks he just died and came back to life. in a second, your bottoms are untied and floating somewhere in the pool. fully exposed to him now, your cunt soft glistening in the sunlight. he lets out a soft cuss as he takes in the sight. "you sure about this?" you only nod, smiling down at him.

he kisses your sensitive clit, keeping his eyes on you as you throw your head back. he watches as your adams apple bob when you let out a moan. he begins to circle his tongue around your clit, sending waves of pleasure throughout your body. butterflies floating in your stomach as he made his way down, sticking his tongue inside your hole, tasting every bit of you. he moans as he feels your slick cover his tongue, "you taste so sweet, angel." you tug on his hair and he takes it as a request to go deeper and he does. he fucks you with his tongue, lifting his hand to press the rough pad of his thumb on your clit. his eyes are closed, savoring every moment. he pulls away slowly, teasing his finger into your dripping hole before slipping it in, and you tense up. immediately enclosing him with your warm gummy walls, art starts to feel pain inside his swimming trunks. he moves his hips slightly, hoping the water will create a friction to relieve the ache.

he attaches himself to your clit once more, sucking on it this time while he curls his fingers inside you at the same time. your stomach tightens as you feel your climax approaching, making you tug on his hair harder. "f–fuck, how are you so good at this" you gasp, bucking your hips. he chuckles, you feel the vibration against your core. "art– shit, i'm so close, baby" he groans at the pet name, his other hand gripping your thigh harder.

"you like that, huh?" your voice breathless, "you like it when i call you baby?" he nods feverishly, lapping up your juices, his own hips bucking softly underwater. you wrap your legs around his back, "i'm gonna cum, artie– fuck, baby just like that. doing so good f'me" within seconds, you're shaking violently into his mouth. feeling warm fluid ooze out of you, which he immediately takes into his mouth. you struggle to hold yourself up, leaning back on your arms as you catch your breath.

if only you could see the string of white floating out of his trunks under the water.

[tutorinkarachi]

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[ibglobaltutor]

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[etfrin]

❝ ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ doll — coriolanus snow & clemensia dovecote ִִִִִִִִִִִִִֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶֶָָָָָָָָָָָָָ ❞

☆　Warning: NSFW | threesome, cum eating, pinv sex, creampie, unprotected sex (wrap it dumbfucks), fingering (f. receiving) | lmk if I forgot something

☆　Pairing: tutor! Clemensia x fem! Reader x tutor! Coriolanus

☆　Summary: headcanons and a drabble for tutor! Clemmie and Coryo <33

☆　A/N: I want them both so deal with it :/

masterlist | navigation | bc: @cafekitsune

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you were just an assignment to them at first. They agreed to tutor you because of the extra credits.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you weren't cooperative at first. Your eyes filled with annoyance, your words filled with animosity that neither Coryo nor Clemmie knew the reason for.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — turns out you were always bullied by the rich and privileged so you had already assumed them to be the same.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — you were proven wrong. Coryo felt sympathy for you, as you both lived in a similar situation. Coryo sneaks out food from the academy to share with you during your solo sessions with him.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — Clemensia bought food from home to share with you. Bringing in the finest cuisines that you could only dream about eating, you always had leftovers to give to Coryo later.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — this helped win them plus points with you, and you begin to earnestly pay attention to the lessons. Try your best to impress them.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — it started with ‘rewards’ Clemmie begins to give you with your good grades. For a C you would get dresses and more, a B would get you makeup and branded perfumes, and an A would get you everything mentioned before along with whatever you wanted.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — of course, it wasn't because she had grown attached to you and wanted to spoil you to no end. She had begun to like your smiles, and your laughs, the small gasp you made when you did something right. There's no doubt in her mind that you deserved these gifts. It certainly helped that all the clothes were tailored just for you and made you look like the doll you are for her.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — with Coryo’s financial situation, he couldn't spoil you with lavishing gifts. So he simply manipulated you into craving his praise, his validation instead. When you get something wrong, he looks at you with such disappointment that tears pool immediately but gosh, when you get something right. His blue eyes brighten, his lips pulling up in a smile so radiant that it blinds you, making you unable to see the cold man underneath.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — soon, both of them realize their feelings for you. However both of them know better than to fight for your attention, they both devise a plan to share their sweet little doll instead. They slowly coax you into a relationship with them. You don't even realize the web of traps you are getting into.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — the study sessions including both of them increase. You squeeze between Coryo and Clemmie as they teach you. You can't take in air with Clemmie's hot breathing down your neck, making you shiver. Her fingers laced with yours in something that you thought was platonic but was anything but. You couldn't think with Coriolanus so close to you. His lips inches away from yours as he goes on and on about the history of Panem.

How the fuck did he manage to make history sexy was a mystery never to be known.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 — then it happened, you snapped, leaning forward to brush your lips against Coryo. And Clemensia begins to press her lips on your nape. Her arm around your waist, trapping you in like a snake's hold.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖ .𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ .

nsfw drabble ahead

It seemed like Clemmie had you trapped between her and Coryo. Her fingers unbutton the silk blouse she had gifted you. Her cold hand now pressed against your bare, hot-to-touch skin. She whispered to you, “My sweet doll. Kiss him back, nice and slow. There you go darling, you're so smart.”

You moan into Coriolanus's mouth as your cunt begins to soak through your panties from Clemmie's words. Coriolanus bites your lower lip, his body pressed against yours. His hands on your face, controlling the kiss, dominating you with no chance of escape. He doesn't break the kiss even when you can feel yourself getting dizzy from the lack of air.

You gasp when he finally does break the kiss. Clemensia by then had already unbuttoned your blouse and unclasped your lacy black bra (also gifted by her). Coriolanus felt his cock throb as he saw Clemmie's freshly manicured hands knead your breasts, making sure to pinch your nipples to get them hard and perky.

You looked like a slut like this. Your lips are swollen, your eyes wide and your body is aroused. He could feel his eyes darken with lust and he leaned down to begin kissing and licking your right breast while he left the left one to Clemensia's mentations.

He sucks your nipple, making sure his tongue swirls around the bud. He pays special attention, nipping the bud occasionally, savoring the cries of pleasure leaving your lips.

Meanwhile, Clemensia was pinching your other nipple, her free hand trailing down your body to free you of your skirt, along with the soaking wet lace panties. She giggles as her fingers swipe at your wet folds. Her digits gather your arousal, all sticky and white. “Taste this, Coryo,” she whispered, interrupting Coryo from putting hickeys all over your chest.

Coriolanus gladly accepts your taste on his tongue, he diligently licks up your juices from Clemensias’ fingers. The sight makes your pussy clench around nothing, a moan of pure want escaping your lips.

“Loosen her up for me, Clemmie,” he said as she pulls out her fingers to begin teasing your pussy again. Clemensia gladly agreed with Coryo. She whispered to you, her lips brushing against your ears, “Next time, I will bring the strap I specifically ordered for you, sweetheart. So it won't be only Coriolanus’ cock you feel next time.”

You couldn't reply anything, not when her fingers began to dip inside your gummy walls. Stretching you out to take Coriolanus's cock. She begins to thrust in her fingers inside your walls, with a gentle pace. Her thumb rubbing at your clit. She crooks her fingers perfectly, her fingertips rubbing at your g-spot, making you see stars as your body jolts from ecstasy.

Coriolanus calms you down with soft kisses on your lips. “She's good at this, huh?” He coos at you, the tip of his tongue catching the teardrops that fall from your eyes. “But you can take it, pet. You're made for us after all. Our doll.” You nod at his words. You would do anything to please them both.

“She’s ready, Coryo,” Clemensia said. She takes her fingers outside of your warm, wet walls and presses her fingertips to your lips until you take her digits inside. You moan around her fingers as your tongue tastes you for the time.

Coriolanus nods at Clemmie's words. He was positioning his cock to your entrance. He smirks at you. “You're gonna take it like a good girl,” he whispered, no, commands you. And with that, he thrusts into you. His cock now kissing your cervix, your pussy pulsating around him and your gummy walls burning from the stretch.

Clemensia eats up your scream, covering your lips with hers as Coryo lets you settle down. You whine, Clemmie's hands holding you down and Coriolanus's hands around your hips, gripping so tight that bruises would bloom soon.

It doesn't take long for Coriolanus to begin to roll his hips, his dick pounding into your heat without care for your pleasure. Meanwhile, Clemensia's hands roam all over your body, pinching and kneading the flesh. Her lips never leave yours. She occasionally leaned back whispered praises about how good you are, and how much she will stretch you out with her strap, and how good she will eat you after this. Each of her filthy fantasies had your cunt clenching around Coryo's cock and he groans, his lips attaching themselves to your pulse point on your neck.

He doesn't pay you or Clemensia any attention, fucking pussydrunk he was, merely chasing his pleasure from your cunt. With Clemmie's constant praises, her hands worshiping you, and Coriolanus sucking the darkest hickey on your skin, his cock stroking your walls, his cockhead grazing your spongy spot inside your walls with every thrust.

It didn't take you long to have your eyes roll back, your body turning into jelly. Coriolanus groans as his thrusts turn sloppy. He cums inside of you with no warning, his body falling on top of you as he gasps. He whines, “Such a good girl. Such sweet cunt, that's my doll.”

Clemmie chuckles, looking at your fucked out state. She was going to have fun with you as soon as you gained some energy. And she tells you exactly that as she gets up to bring you and Coryo glasses of water.

.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚 .𖥔 ݁ ˖.𖥔 ݁ ˖ 𐙚

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[water-to-drink]

How They Became Attracted to You

(Characters): Al haitham, Ayaka, Kaeya, Chiori

(Synopsis): First meetings with the most popular or influential students at the academy

(Tags/Warnings): gn!reader, reader is an artist, school au, reader is a transfer student, possible ooc Chiori, (if I missed something lmk)

(Word Count): 1.4k

(A/n): If you all like this then I’ll make a part two, just tell me which characters you want to see

🦅Al haitham🦅

🦅 The first and only one to best him in a test, a geometry test to be specific. He only came in at 99% while you come in at a perfect 100%

🦅 At first refused to believe that a mere art nerd could get a better score than him and so with as much delicacy as a bull in a china shop Al haitham came up to you and asked you how you got your score

🦅 Being randomly approached by the school’s smartest student you were very nervous and told him that you just did what you learned from class. Seeing that you won’t give him the answer he asks for you to tutor him which you agreed to go it, mostly because you were very nervous under his sharp gaze

🦅 While tutoring it became apparent that you sucked at explaining things to him, don’t get him wrong he already knows the material he just wants to know how and why you got a 100. As these sessions went Al haitham saw how your hands would glide across the paper, the delicacy almost amazed him

🦅 Slowly but surely Al haitham realized that there was more to your shy exterior. You were sassy and quick witted, you could even match his intellect on many topics, he finds himself feeling that he on an equal level with you.

🦅 Now he looks forward to your tutoring sessions, recently you two won’t do any tutoring just do your homework and talk about anything on your mind, the same mind that he finds so interesting and beautiful

���Ayaka Kamisato 🪭

🪭 The two of you have seen each other in the hallway before and after classes. She would always see you with a sketchbook in your hands or drawing in it. You didn’t take up too much real estate in her mind, the poor girl has too much going on as the daughter of the Kamisato family. That was until one day where Ayaka was leaving cram school and her chauffeur was stuck in traffic, she was approached by an older man

“What’s a girl like you doing out so late?”

“I’m leaving cram school, sir.”

“Cram school? You kids work so hard, I can show you a good time.”

“Uh, no thank you, sir.”

“C’mon, don’t be so stuck up, live a little-”

“What’s the problem?!”

🪭 There you are, yelling at the top of your lungs, she can tell that you’re scared but you still yell drawing more attention to yourself and the creep in question. Once a lot of people are watching the scene the creep walks off leaving you and her alone

“Are you okay?”

“Yes, I am. I’m sorry that you had to step in.” Ayaka bows her head

“Don’t worry, I saw that you were uncomfortable so I decided to step in. See you around.” You waved goodbye as you walked off and her chauffeur pulled up

🪭 Later Ayaka came to learn that you didn’t know of the prestige that came with the Kamisato name. You came up and scared off the guy of your own volition, thinking that she was just an ordinary girl who needed to be rescued and that is what she’ll continue being to you

🪭 It wouldn’t be hard since you two are in different grades, you being her senior by a year. You would both meet up in a quiet cafe you work at, she learned that it was your family’s business and work there to help your family and to earn some pocket money. The two of you got so close that you even let her look through your sketchbook and Ayaka was amazed by your skills

🪭 When you offered to draw a portrait of her she jumped at the offer. So one day at your family’s cafe you presented her a drawing of her. You drew her as a swordswoman dressed in traditional Inazuman clothing and armor, she profusely thanked you and framed it the moment she got home

🪭 There are some nights where if she can’t sleep mainly because of nerves she’ll take your drawing and look at it, thinking about you would quell her anxiety and give her the best of dreams. Just don’t tell her brother, she’s afraid he’ll scare you off

❄️Kaeya❄️

❄️ Is the complete opposite of his adopted brother, he’s known as the school’s flirt and a total playboy. He makes girls and guys alike go head over heels for him, and you, the new transfer student, is on his radar

❄️ He lives for making innocent things like you into a flustered little mess. So when he sauntered over to you and threw his usual flirty remarks, he wasn’t met with a sheepish face nor an oblivious one. No he was met with a look of disgust

❄️ Without saying anything you walked away from him, leaving him bewildered. Did he do something wrong? Everyone falls for him. Refusing to take this laying down Kaeya decides to find out why weren’t you under his spell

❄️ And so he began to make an attempt to learn more about you, your likes and your dislikes, or your hobbies. At first you would just ignore him when he would try to strike up a conversation and after a few weeks he decided to make a deal with you

“Are you serious?” You asked

“Dead serious. We’ll act as friends and if you still can’t stand me in 2 months, then we’ll stop. Does that sound good?”

“Only if you promise to leave me alone after?”

“If you still can’t stand me.” Kaeya threw his signature smirk

“Ugh fine! But no flirting!”

“I make no promises~”

❄️ The two of you tried to act as friends, before it was awkward but soon you got used to his presence and you slowly began to come out of your shell, finally showing your true colors after about 3 weeks of “friendship”

❄️ Kaeya finds himself laughing at your jokes, actually laughing and not the fake laugh he would do when he’s trying to fuck somebody. Now Kaeya’s heart thumps whenever you would laugh at something or wave at him in the hallway. Oh gods, is he in love?!

❄️ He wishes he didn’t have the reputation he has, he wants more than your body, he wants your heart

🪡Chiori🪡

🪡 The president of the sewing club. Chiori and her club members have made various designs, many of them for the theater group whenever they’re putting on a performance. However the best designers have their slow movements, not being able to come up with any designs that are up to their standards. That is what plaguing Chiori

🪡 One day she finds a random sketchbook in the sewing club. Curiosity getting the best of the young seamstress she flips through the book, there she sees the most beautiful character designs, the obvious inspiration from big names like Chanel, Gucci, and Thierry Mugler, but the person who made these designs are unique to them. It all gives Chiori a surge of inspiration

🪡 Immediately she opens up her own sketchbook and begins drafting up some designs, some are amazing but others don’t compare to the designs in the mysterious sketchbook she found. She must find the person who made this

🪡 She hears the door opening and when she turns her head, she sees you looking a bit embarrassed.

“Uh, I left my sketchbook here, have you seen it?”

“Yes, I have.” Chiori picks up the book and hands it to you. “I looked through it.”

“Wait, what?!”

“And I like what I saw, can I make the designs in this book?”

🪡 So every Tuesday you would go to the sewing club and let Chiori bring life to your designs, the two of you would talk about various fashion styles and designers. Chiori is very impressed by your vast knowledge on how different styles and cultures arose, she might even say it rivals her knowledge (but she won’t)

🪡 The more time you two spend together the more Chiori likes you, she would look forward to your presence right next to her talking her ear off about your characters as she worked. Normally she would play music but the sound of you rambling is more than enough for her

🪡 In the privacy of her room Chiori would often find herself drawing up designs for wedding garments for her and yours wedding, she can’t wait for the day you to call her “my wife”

[psychocitywrites]

Hard Truths - I

Summary: Rafe Cameron has everything a man would want. Now he’s looking to settle down. He thinks he’s found the one that checks all the boxes, except she’s not you.

Prologue Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

“Hey, isn’t that y/n?” Kelce asked. Well, that was a name he hadn’t heard in a while. When Kelce said your name aloud, it brought up a feeling of annoyance in Rafe.  

If Rafe had a mortal enemy. It’d be you (albeit it was more one sided than anything). Back when he was a teenager, He had wanted to excel in every subject just to get an ounce of his father’s praise.

He put in countless hours of studying, played every sport, and even joined those extracurricular clubs that helped the community so that he would look good in his father’s eyes.

He was the number one golden boy at kook academy. And he was doing good, until you transferred to his school.

You got in with a scholarship. You weren’t even a kook. You had moved to the outer banks to live with to your uncle when your parents didn’t have enough money to support you at the time. He didn’t know it at the time, but you would come in and crash his entire system.

Whatever subject it was, you had him beat. If he was given a 95, you aced with a perfect score. When the clubs he joined began voting for new representatives for the year, he’d be the vice president while you were voted president or captain of whatever the hell it was school.

Instead of feeling proud his son was doing well in school, Ward would always reprimand him for losing the top spot to you.

"You let a pogue beat you at being Valedictorian? She doesn't even have tutors. Why the hell did I pay them for?"

It made him feel inferior just like how he felt with Sarah.

The worst part was that you either didn’t care or didn’t realize it. You always wanted to sit next to him or be his partner in projects.

You hadn’t done anything wrong per se, but he was sure he hated you. When you both graduated, you had moved back home with your parents and Rafe thought he’d never have to see you again.

However, when he looked back and saw you, dressed up with your hair and make-up done nicely, walking behind Heather, he did a double take. It was you, only dressed up for the occasion. He’d never seen you like that, dressed up with your hair and make up done pretty.

Huh he thought.

“Imma go say hi.” Said Kelce. Rafe looked at him, face showing his confusion. “How do you know her?”

“Y/n used to tutor me in math. She’s the best” Fuck. Even his friends liked her. “You should come. It looks like her and Heather are close. Maybe she can help you shoot your shot.” Kelce laughed as he walked towards the girls.

Her? Help me? Please, as if. Rafe followed anyway.

---

You weren’t sure what to expect when your company invited you to the gala, but running into the boy you used to tutor in algebra was not in your agenda for the evening.

“Y/n! What a nice surprise. We haven’t seen each other in what? Years?” Kelce said.

“Oh my gosh! Kelce! It’s so good to see you.” You responded. “How are you?” You went in for a hug.

As Kelce was going on about how he’d been. You see another face you thought you’d never run into. Rafe Cameron was the boy you used to have a crush on when you moved to the outer banks and seeing him again after all these years made your face feel flushed.

“Hi Rafe.” He only gave a small hi back.

“Are you with anybody tonight?” Kelce asked when he was done talking. “Yes and no. I don’t have a date, but I came with Miss Hayworth as her assistant."

“You work for her?” Kelce said surprised. “Yeah, she’s over here if you want me to introduce you.”

Rafe perked up at that. You caught it and you couldn’t help but feel a bit of disappointment. Of course they’d wanna meet her. It’s Heather Hayworth.

You liked Heather. She was nice, pretty, and an overall good person, yet seeing the man you used to like show more emotion at hearing her name than seeing you stung.

It’s not like we were more than classmates you thought.

You admit, you were sweeter on him than he was you, but you liked how much effort he put into his work and how he always volunteered to do stuff outside of class.

However, even though you wanted to get closer to Rafe, it was like there was an invisible wall separating you from everyone else. You chalked it up to you being an outsider.

“As long as it not a bother.” Rafe said. His voice made your heart beat a little faster. “Of course not. Come on.” You spoke.

You just hope you wouldn’t regret it later on.

How many of yall guessed ex-classmate?

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