#how to do homework faster

[wriheart]

someone has probably said this before but I'm reading my work and I'm like "bitch where's the rest?" but I'm the bitch and i need to write the rest. being a writer is hard I have so many ideas but i need to go to bed

[binders-and-beanies]

Sometimes when people don’t understand why I don’t understand something I wanna just be like. I’m still disabled that actually hasn’t changed since last week

[fallingskiesandrisingseas]

But what was most baffling to all that met the Pevensies after they came back was that they were kind.

Really. Not pretending, not because they were insecure. True, empathic. Far too understanding for children their age. They all have music in them.

Peter’s hands feel too small for him, but he shakes hands all the same. Gentle pressure. There is nobility behind those eyes. Eyes that always border on the supernatural sort of blue, especially in the dark.

He plays the guitar, gently coaxing otherworldly sounds out of an instrument that did not know it could be played like that. He helps his siblings with their homework, is taller much faster than his peers. Seems to take up more space, even though no one understands how a teenage boy manages that.

He doesn’t like doing nothing, ever. He instructs his classmates in grammar, gives away figures he cuts from wood with a knife that seems too sharp for a boy that small. He never hurts himself, though.

As the years pass, Peter grows strong. But he is gentle. He does not seem to be brash, even when many of his friends are. Peter keeps his emotions in check. Noble. Not undangerous, but not belligerent. Peter only ends fights, and only with people that deserve it.

He offers advice, a pat on the back. Teachers wanna dislike him, some do not like the look behind those eyes. Most find they cannot. Peter is popular with both adults and children, speaks sense and laughs often.

Peter is kind. Pious, devout. His faith is unmovable like rock. Did the kids meet God on the estate of their uncle?

Edmund plays the violin. A sad Edmund is a rare sight, but when he plays sad he can keep his whole floor awake. Somehow, Peter always finds h him quickly, effortlessly attuned to his brother’s moods. They play chess, then. Their chess master must have been a champion, Ed beats people with ease. He’s usually not smug about it.

Ed speaks politics and war in earnest, accepts critique graciously, is elegant in a way Peter never manages. Peter speaks frankly, but Edmund can wrap words up real nice. He doesn’t mince words, but his classmates grow into liking the sound of his voice. They appreciate that Edmund does not lie, even when speaking tactfully. Edmund can dial the temperature in a room, change it to suit himself.

He, too, laughs often, but Edmund is known to smirk. He likes being right and he often is. He’ll entertain anyone with a good story, always seems to have the right information to help you out. Remedies to illness, connections, job openings, how to sneak out of PE.

He’s a spider in a web. A bit reserved for a 11 year old, and oddly well-connected. A real ghost when he wants to be, but he never scares people with it.

Aslan would not approve of that. He believes in God as well, but much more intellectually. He’s got the intelligence to back it up and wit to match. A scholarly belief, but not lacking conviction.

Teachers like his enthousiasm, remember a moody nagging child when he left and see a secure young man come back.

Edmund will stand up for what is right. He gets into some trouble like that, but his verbal agility saves him always. Edmund has strong principles and will not bend them for anyone. No matter the trouble he gets in.

The bond with his brother is unbreakable. They even walk the same, chest out, left hand on their belt. They seem most at ease when fencing.

Susan was always warm and tenderhearted, but when she comes back there is a difference.

She seems to have gained authority. It’s real strange watching a 13-year old use her beauty like a grown woman, but Susan has learned to wield it, to stun people so she can creep under their skin. People LISTEN to her now.

Her wit is like a knife, but she avoids cutting deep. Susan is reasonable, and strong, and principled. The little drama others get involved in does not bother her, and she seems immune to petty insults. She has killed before, with her hands.

She will do it with kindness now. She is not very approachable ( that would be Lucy ), but she is kind. She used to mother over her brothers and sisters, but now that they have raised each other in a court full of magic she has gotten more relaxed. They listen to her on important issues, trust in her judgement. Her brothers does not deem himself more important, she is both well-spoken and well-respected by her siblings. Equal. It baffles the old men that teach her. Irritates them, too.

There is an air of mystery around her. Half a look is enough to get what she wants, Susan’s friends laud her security in herself, her Mona Lisa smile. She seems to temper moods easily, makes people feel at ease.

She most of everyone exudes royalty. It’s the grace. Susan plays the harp, her long fingers dancing across the strings like she’s had a lifetime of practice. She’s elegant, never caught off guard. Jamais faux pas.

She does not get angry. She knows who she will be. She is anxious to become an adult, yes, but she only wishes to look how she feels. Not to look differently. Yet the wish to be taken seriously, to have someone see you as an adult, it makes her surprisingly similar to her peers.

Her friends have not been old yet, is all. But Susan is calm and collected. People see her as someone you can tell a secret to. She never hurts someone, is usually a neutral party, speaks sense to adult and kids alike. She is not ignorant, however, will use every trick in the book to keep the peace. She knows when to go nuclear. Vis pacem para bellum.

Lucy is a sun in human form. She has a joie de vivre that is unmatched, is gay and golden-haired and never in a bad mood.

Lucy is kind by default, does not turn it off, does not turn it down. She’s witty and funny and quick on her feet. She has been grown before, yes, but enjoys being young for a few years more. She dances, sings old tunes. Her voice is her favorite instrument, you can usually hear Lucy coming.

Whistling a tune in the halls is known to improve the moods of everyone who hears it immensely. Young girls need to figure out who they are, but Lucy knows, knows what she’ll be and who she likes and what kind of people she wants to be around. She is not pretending, never moody. She can get sad, of course, but her older brothers and sisters are always nearby when that happens.

Lucy is genuine and fierce and convinced, immovable at times. Admired for her drive, but respected for her empathy. She speaks to everyone, often distributes flowers. There’s no naivite in her at all, she simply wishes to be like this so that the world may imitate her. She likes to see people prosper, is the first with praise.

She will go far, is the consensus. There’s steel beneath the soft exterior, Lucy has fire below the flowers. She’s well-liked and well-loved. She has love in spades, it seems, animals and stragglers and misfits and outcasts. She’s popular, her room is a good place to get a cup of tea and someone who will listen to you for some time. After a while she no longer bothers with the door.

That a heart that size fits in a girl that small is a mystery to many. Lucy does not think it is a mystery at all. It is the heart of a lion.

Her faith is as vocal as the rest of her, she sees it confirmed in all that is beautiful, all that is kind. She never tries to convert anyone but there are several people who have told her that version of God is someone they would like to know.

The Pevensies often see each other at parties, where they like to stand together. Edmund knows about everyone, everyone knows Peter, everyone likes Susan, but it is Lucy who knows everyone.

They are kind, but not weak. Peter gets his knuckles bloody sometimes, Edmund does not abide by the rules of unjust teachers. Susan and Lucy solve their problems differently but no less effective. Kindness is their usual way of operating, but they are still kings and queens. They will not allow cruelty, will not let bullies go unpunished.

They are sure of what they are and sure of what comes after death and this makes them kind. Kind , not harmless. Kind, not spineless. Kind, not ignorant. Kind, not naive.

Kind despite. Maybe kind because. The kings and queens of Narnia are proud of what they are, honour the teachings of their lion friend. Kind.

When the crash happens and three siblings die, everyone they know mourns deeply. Without them, the world is less kind.

[brawberryz]

Little Demon

Batfam Yan! × Neglected Nezuko! Reader

Note:English is not my first language, sorry if there is any translation error / M.list

You were normal

You weren't the monster you've become, before everything you were just an ordinary high school student

Everything had happened so fast that you didn't even have time to process it

A few hours ago everything was normal

You woke up as usual adding yourself to go to class, you greeted alfred while you were having breakfast

Breakfast felt as lonely as always your family was never present not even in things as common as having breakfast together as a family

No one ever had time for you, everyone was so busy with their responsibilities and you understood it, you always understood

They were vigilant and you knew they had a lot of responsibilities on their shoulders but sometimes you would like them to look at you or ask you how your day was

If someone in the family turned to look at you or talk to you it was a miracle, the only person you had by your side was alfred

He was a father figure more than your real father could be

Bruce, as you called him because father was too big a name for someone like him, maybe he wasn't even worthy of being called father

You saw his relationship with the rest of your siblings and how he treated them with so much respect and affection

At some point you felt jealous, why was he so good to them? Why couldn't you feel that affection

Why?

Why!?

Nobody took care of you or protected you, since you were little you understood that if you didn't protect yourself nobody would

Everyone had talents and they were amazing

You were just (name), the shadow of the family because the only thing that was important was having the last name Wayne, but then you were nobody

You were never anybody

You stopped thinking so much and picked up your bag and walked out the door of the mansion giving Alfred a last goodbye

_

Classes went by faster than you would like, school was a safe place for you, there you could be yourself with your friends

To your friends you weren't (name) Wayne, the daughter of a billionaire playboy, you were just a (name) L/N a girl full of energy and eager to help others

You lazily got up from your seat grabbing your bag heading to the classroom door

There was Aoi waiting for you as usual, you were grateful to have such a good friend like her

"You look more tired than usual, is something wrong (name)?"

The black-haired girl asks worriedly, walking with you to the exit. You just nodded, giving her a fake smile.

"Yeah, don't worry, I just didn't sleep well today."

That's a lie. You had slept more than well, but since this morning you had felt that something was wrong, as if something bad was about to happen.

You couldn't shake that feeling off after hours. You decided to ignore it, but that feeling still remained.

Aoi just nodded, unsure of your answer. She had been your friend for years and she knew you too well to know when something was bothering you.

"Hey, today me and shinobu are going to a new cafe that opened. Do you want to go?"

You stayed quiet for a few seconds thinking about the proposal, you liked going out with your friends but this time you felt like you shouldn't go

"I'm sorry aoi but... I'm really busy today I have homework to do"

You politely apologized to her

Aoi raised an eyebrow, there was something she didn't like, she knew something was happening to you but she wasn't going to force you to tell her, she didn't want it to seem like she was someone insistent

She simply gave you a nod and then looked ahead, this was where your paths separated as you lived on totally opposite streets

She gave you a big hug as a farewell and then separated from you with a smile on her face

"See you tomorrow (name), take care!"

She said as she shook her hand and her presence disappeared more and more as she walked away

You let out a tired sigh before turning on your heels and taking the path home

You walked with your head down, your thoughts consumed your head that you didn't even notice the imminent danger that was approaching you

You didn't understand why your family seemed to hate you, you were always obedient, good and polite

You were the best in your class and you had great intelligence but you were still invisible to all of them

Sometimes you just wanted to disappear, being someone else didn't matter you just wanted to leave

But you knew that until you turned 18 it would be impossible to get out of that house

You were so distracted in your thoughts that you didn't even have time to react before something too strong pushed you into a dirty alley

You tried to get up and defend yourself but that strange man grabbed you by the neck cutting off your breathing and not being able to get up

As your vision blurred you could see his red eyes and a cynical smile forming on his lips

The last thing you felt was something embedded in your neck causing you to lose consciousness

Everything was black, you couldn't move or feel anything

So you died?

Is this how it all ended? Dying in a dirty alley full of trash and rats?

Maybe this is what you deserved, you were never anything important just trash

And trash should stay with trash, right?

Alfred ran at full speed through the mansion towards Bruce's office, he couldn't believe that this had happened

He slammed open the door to Bruce's office causing Bruce to stop concentrating on the paperwork to look at his butler

It was too strange for Alfred to enter without knocking, and he was also struck by Alfred's worried and disheveled attitude

Only something too important or serious would have to happen to break Alfred's impeccable personality

"Master Bruce...Miss (name)..."

The old man struggled to find air in his lungs, having run all over the mansion had left him exhausted

"What's wrong with her? Don't tell me she got into trouble-"

Alfred interrupted Bruce in the middle of his sentence to speak again

"No...she...she's dead"

Those words hit Bruce hard

Dead?

Your death couldn't be true, it had to be some kind of joke

"What?"

It was the only thing he could say in shock, he knew that Alfred would never lie to him, much less about a subject as serious as death

But his brain simply couldn't process it

_

The entire batfam was at the police station, the news of your death shook the entire family in a bad way

Now they were here to identify your body, they found it in an alley according to the police record a woman who was passing by found your body covered in blood that was supposed to have been yours

According to the police it was a very crude and bloody crime scene

They couldn't believe that someone would be capable of doing that to a being as innocent as you

The simple fact that someone had done all those things to you made everyone's blood boil with rage

Richard felt terrible, remembering all the times you asked him to spend time together and he simply made the excuse that he was busy or that he didn't have time

He was the worst brother, he was supposed to be the oldest one who should have protected you but all he did was push you away and cause your premature death

Jason could barely handle all the emotions he felt at that moment, he felt rage, sadness and regret

He still remembered the times he had insulted you and told you not to interfere in his life

No matter what he had to do, he was going to avenge his little sister and he was going to make the person who had done that to you suffer

In Tim's head he tried to find some possible suspect for your death, maybe the joker had already killed Jason once, it was just a matter of time before he did it again

He could still remember the times he had ignored you, that moment when you made cupcakes was still in his mind and you had the brightest smile of all

You had prepared them especially for your family but all you received was their rejection telling you that they were busy

Remember the rude way in which I refused your food and asked you to leave, right now, anything to be able to be with you and try your desserts

Damian was burning with fury, who was the bastard who dared to kill his sister!?

He, unlike the rest, didn't want to accept his guilt. He firmly believed that the times he had hit you, humiliated you, and insulted you were for your own good.

You should know well that you were too weak for this world, that he was your protector.

Cass could barely process everything. She had lost another important person to her again, and this time it was her fault again.

She leaned against a corner and let her thoughts consume her. She felt the worst. Maybe if she had paid attention to you, you would be alive now.

Barbara felt the same way as Richard. She still remembered the times you begged for her attention, wanting to spend time with her, but she only pushed you away more and more each day.

Steph could only stare at the floor. It was her fault for ignoring you. She thought that at some point you would adapt to the mansion, but it never happened. All she did was make you feel more like a burden and a nuisance.

But the one who felt the worst was Bruce. He was supposed to be your father, he was supposed to be the first to protect you. But he didn't. All he did was ignore you

He was the worst father ever, now because of him you were dead

They took him to a room to identify your body and left him there alone for a few minutes

Right there he collapsed, his serious and unwavering facade broke

His daughter, his baby is now dead because of him, he would do anything to revive you, he would even use the Lazarus pit even knowing the consequences that caused

But suddenly he felt like something lunged at him

And there was you

Alive

You were alive in some way, but he saw that it wasn't you...

Your eyes had that wild look, your teeth were sharp and long nails that you had never had before

He grabbed a metal pipe he found on the floor and tried to fight you by putting it in your mouth so that you wouldn't bite him or disfigure his face with your claws or teeth

Your strength was superhuman, as if you were no longer the (name) that he knew

Now you had become something wilder

But he felt small tears falling on his face, he was crying

It seemed as if a part of you was trying to control your instincts, he noticed your distressed and scared look

Suddenly Richard entered the room with Jason

They had heard a loud noise coming from the room

The men's faces were surprised when they saw you alive

Or rather, you didn't look human and your skin looked paler

Also, your hair had changed, the tips that were completely black before were now orange

The two quickly came out of their trance and helped Bruce get you off of them, you were still struggling and trying to get out of their grip

Then Damian and Tim appeared through the door when they heard all the commotion

Before either of them could speak, Richard interrupted them

"There's no time for explanations, distract the police now!"

He said trying to keep you from getting out of the grip, Tim and Damian just nodded confused as they went with the others to distract the guards

Meanwhile Jason decided that the best idea was to knock you out so he did, but he earned a scolding from Bruce for hitting you so hard

"Stop complaining so much and be thankful we didn't let her kill you"

He said dryly, he saw how you fell surrendered to his arms, for now they should find a way to get you out of here without anyone noticing

_

The days passed quickly in the mansion, they had you with a kind of muzzle on your mouth to prevent any incident

Although after having "revived" you were only aggressive once, to tell the truth this version of you was much calmer and less energetic than the previous one

After Bruce asked Constantine for help he told him that most likely you had been turned into a demon and that if they wanted you to be human again the person that turned you into a demon was supposed to turn you back into a human

For days the batfam spent their time investigating and trying to find information about the person who did that to you but they found almost nothing

But almost nothing was that bad, it seemed you rejected human flesh and blood and you recovered energy by sleeping, you didn't need to eat or drink water just sleep

Most of the day (not to say all day) you spent somewhere in the mansion sleeping

Everyone fought over who would cuddle with you during your morning nap, they agreed on a deal that every day of the week it would be a family member's turn to sleep with you and take care of you

And after everything worked, most of your memories disappeared so they didn't have to worry about you remembering what horrible siblings they were

They also found out that you can't be in the sun unless you want to disintegrate and die

Tim thought it was a good idea to open the windows so you could see the sun after so long

Tim's expression The horror on his face was great when he saw how your skin began to burn and how you screamed in pain

He quickly closed the windows and approached you to see your condition

Luckily your regenerative abilities were very helpful, but Tim still didn't escape Bruce's scolding and you think Damian almost killed Tim that day

You could say that the days in the mansion were good, of course sometimes you would like to go out and see other places but you knew it would be impossible

The batfam preferred to die rather than let you wander alone through the streets of Gotham again, in their eyes you were still that weak little girl even knowing that you could easily kill them all

For now you should get used to this life until they find a cure

But you shouldn't worry, when you are cured they will never let you go again

Never

I finished this quicker than I thought

I hope you like it because I probably won't upload anything for 3 or 4 days

byeee

[fadeintosatoru]

Satoru was the guy you had a crush on since middle school, and it stuck with you all through high school. Even after graduation, you still couldn’t stop thinking about him.

He was the guy who teased you endlessly. The one who knew exactly what to say to get you all riled up, just for him. He also knew and appreciated how you always helped him with classwork or homework.

He was the typical football jock that the cheerleaders fawned over, the one they dreamt of wearing his jersey to his games. They’d throw themselves at him at any chance given.

But Satoru, unbeknownst to you, only had eyes for you. And it pained him to see how oblivious you were. Couldn’t you see?

Satoru, who walked you to class every day. He’d wait outside your door and walk you to class, or carry your books or backpack for you—but friends do that, right?

God, everyone saw it but you.

But how could you? When every cheerleader wanted him, and he just couldn’t help being a natural flirt, and every time you saw it, it broke your heart even more.

So when you were moving schools, part of you was relieved.

You didn’t tell him though. Why would you? To make a promise you knew neither of you would keep?

It wasn’t until after high school graduation that you found out he did, in fact, like you. That he was devastated that you left, that he never got to give you his jersey, or take you to prom.

And of course, this ruined you, because oh, how badly did you want all that? You wanted that teen romance, but now, at 20, you found yourself thinking more about your priorities rather than some silly, stupid crush (even though you were crashing out every night thinking about him).

Satoru, who you happened to run into at the local store, made you panic and run to your car, hiding. You couldn’t have left any faster.

Satoru, whose name popped up on your lock screen.

satorugojo has requested to follow

a/n: this was ib one of my friends irl experience. HERES PT2 PT3 P.S. VOTE FOR THE FINAL PART

[rinnstars]

special!

how he changes because of love

bllk boys (nagi, rin, otoya) x reader: fluff, drabbles, not proofread + likes and reblogs r appreciated <3

nagi seishiro

to everyone else, nagi is lazy to his very core — seen by his constant napping during class or being piggy backed by his own teammates (reo) and doing the bare minimum all whilst beating everyone else.

yet with you, he’s the opposite of lazy with you.

nagi wakes up early for you to meet you on time at your bus stop that he almost every morning runs to in a hurry with his uniform wrinkled and in a mess that he lets you spoil him by tidying it for him, letting his eyes wander at your focused ones and relaxing at your soft and warm touch in contrast to his cold ones. and nagi is the opposite of his usual self when he goes the extra mile — only writing notes for you during class when you’re beside him too busy falling asleep as his hands moves faster as though he’s playing his games on the paper to capture all the information on the board as the teacher wipes it off, only buying food for you and bringing right to your table in contrast to his usual self who has his food placed in front of him who already finds merely chewing a pain, only carrying your bag as you two walk home, not minding the extra weight on his back when its for you. after all, if it’s for you, he thinks its worth it: anything’s worth to see your beaming face that practically shines with the way the sun shines on your face as though youre an angel, anything’s worth to be able to be by your side who to him is practically an angel in disguise with the way you make his heart flutter and his face warm that to him is no longer a hassle especially when your eyes are simply drawn to him as though a magnetic, anything’s worth to see your eyes brighten when he does those little things that seems so uncharacteristic to everyone else. but you know better he thinks, he’s only like this with you.

and its even more obvious when nagi truly brings out his ‘genius’ for you — when he does his 200% and pulls out all his best moves that he had half-assed all these times when he sees you watching him play football against other school, his motivation linked to your attention and eyes fixated on the way he moves as though playing only for you, when he’s so focused in finishing a game for you or even playing a game to carry you, with his eyes practically firing up with hypothetical fire burning up, so focused his veins on his hands pops a little and his lips slightly bleeding from how hard he was biting it, only to immediately turn puppy like when he turns to you to look for your validation once he’s all done, when he sits up all straight when he patiently and gently tutors you for homework as though he’s ever bothered to do any of those and not simply wing it. nagi doesn’t really think its cool, its just a part of him, barely acknowledging people’s ossips about his talents: bringing his volleyball team to the nationals (little do you know he simply joined because you and him liked a certain volleyball anime and watched it together), acing all the exams despite practically being asleep in most of the classes (he’s really not asleep, simply looking at you as he lies his head on his table and looking at you through drooping eyelids and secretly admiring you as you focus in class). and perhaps he does all things for one reason: nagi loves you and wants you to give the attention and validation he craves: eating up your each and every praise that sounds so right with your sugary sweet voice that gets his adreadline pumping as though ready to finish another game, eating up your reactions from your wide eyes and ‘o’ shaped lips to him flexing his talents in contrast to his sloth like being majority of the time, and most importantly eating up the way you look at him as though he’s your entire world.

itoshi rin

to everyone else, rin is completely and entirely consumed and fixated on football: evident from how his every action revolves around his passion from his football books that he reads solely to analyse techniques underneath his desk during class, from how he skips his school club to go to his out-of-school football training team a hour away from school in a bus that comes every thirty minutes, and.. from the way he’s strangely always around you..?

not to say other’s analysis seems to be wrong: rin’s nothing less than passionate about football, but he thinks he can be his raw self with you and let you mold him to whatever you want if it means to see your smile: only evident in yours and his stash of polaroids photos.

polaroids featuring rin’s face plastered with colourful stickers of stars, hearts, emojis and disney princesses as he uncharacteristically smiles as though he was a little kid with a bright beam and crescent shaped eyes with flash on that he’s sure his classmate or his teammates wont even recognise in contrast to his usual fixed grimace on his face, one that makes him smile especially when he remembers your giggles as you paste it on his face: remembering your soft and gentle touch that touches both his skin and his heart too and the way you stick your tongue too when youre all focused that makes his heart flutter and stomach filled with butterflies. polaroids that featured both you and him secretly in his wallet that he can’t help but be magnetised to and look at before every of his game for motivation and even kiss it for good luck where you and him have stupid and silly hair clips clipped onto both your hairs that you both clipped onto each other on his bed, room that was always silent now lively and filled with yours and his chatter and giggles as you both acted like little kids again that makes him wish he didn’t have to ever grow and stay right here with you forever, beaming at the camera as you press your lips on his cheeks that practically leaves a mark on his heart. polaroid that was secretly downloaded by him to become his wallpaper of you and him on his bed sitting down together, for the first time taking the lead and using your polaroid that he’s paid for and taking a picture of you and him from the stupid 0.5 angle you always do of him and laugh at, capturing a silly picture of you and him to brighten his day and for him to not go homesick when he leaves you for a few months, yours and his forehead hilariously big that he can’t help but let out a ugly laugh, letting his hand wrap around your frame as you two laugh at the picture.

and rin’s sure if they look a little closer, perhaps they would see the truth without those polaroids — with the way his lips moves upwards whenever youre with him and his eyes soften when it drifts to you in contrast to his usual frown fixated on his pretty face, with the way his voice seemingly becomes softer as he replies to you in contrast to how he practically ignores his classmates and teammates words, letting them drift out of his ears immediately, with the way he goes above and beyond all whilst still trying to put up the nonchalant facade they all fell for: the way his face flushes pink whenever you linger a little too close even though you’ve been together for oh so long yet you still make him want to lie down in his bed and yell against his pillow and kick his feet like a teenage girl in love, the way his usual glare melt so obviously when his eyes lands on you whether your hands or your eyes like youre his very entire world, and even the way he seems like a puppy if you look hard enough whenever he walks home with you, hands tugging at yours, head on your shoulder, holding yours and his bag even despite hours of football practice.

otoya eita

in contrast to his very very infamous reputation: a player, a jerk, simply “dating” to have fun — its a cycle that otoya has lived by through his school life, reputation stained by upset exes that throw paint against his at first pristine reputation: liking someone’s cute face or personality, going with them for one or two dates before losing interest and becoming bored and restart the cycle.

and yet, there’s something about you that’s simply so magnetic that he thinks you, along with football, could be the constant in his life for once in his life.

a routine: its not something otoya is used to, but with you, he feels oh so at ease. he finds routine as something exciting now: walking with you to the convenience store after school for lunch and getting a new snack each and every time with you whilst enjoying your voice that he thinks he can never grow tired off with each and every of your movement in your pitch and octave as you ramble away that makes him still smile unconsciously, waiting for you outside of class as he plays a game of finding you with your class position always switching, smiling unconsciously when he sees you whether you are focused in class, playing games underneath your table or even doodling in your notebook, going out with you during the weekends and practically remaking memories in the different places he liked and eventually grew tired of — from the old arcade that he used to go as a kid that now is practically abandoned that you and him hung out, drinking soda and laughing before running away together, from the secret corner in the school library he used to attempt to focus and do homework and doing yours and his assignment together where he finds out that rather than getting distracted by the new influx of people, he’s getting distracted by how you look so adorable as you write another essay with the way you bite your lips as you focus of course only until you flick his forehead for not focusing, to even a small shop by his neighbourhood and enjoying his favourite childhood snack that he thinks taste even sweeter now that youre next to him that he eventually grew tired of after eating ten of it once when he was five. you make all things he’s grown tired of new again: his old earphones he left in the corner of his desk at the excitement from obtaining a new headphone he now use in order to share music with you on the bus as your head lies on his shoulder as the music blasts in both your ears that makes his heart flush at the thought of you and him sharing the same song (he thinks he’s becoming oh so sappy in contrast to who he used to be), his rainbow beads that he collected as a kid before abandoning it in his house storeroom he made bracelets with you in his bedroom as you two made matching bracelets that he has never removed from his wrist since you put it right on him, and even his childhood favourite fried rice that he ate too much of and despite learning how to cook it never cooked it again until you came by his house for the first time and tried it with him wanting to oh so desperately to impress you, tasting even more addicting with you sharing his now new favourite food with him.

he thinks he’s changed now that he’s with you: a constant in his ever changing orbit. and just like football, otoya dedicates a part of his life to you, falling into a habit with you: in the same way he practices football every afternoon everyday in a fixed time frame in order to keep constant. otoya reaches yours and his bus stop at 7am every single day, he kisses your cheeks the second he sees you reach the bus stop, boarding the bus and sitting at the very same duo seat or standing at a specific seat every single time, sitting at one specific table or a specific spot of the field area every lunch period. and he feels the same feeling too whenever he sees you: his heart fluttering as his face flushes oh so subtly, his stomach filled with butterflies that makes him all giddy and nervous and excited, how he feels as though he’s straight up in a shoujo romance manga as the protagonist as you practically sweep him off his own feet just with your presence alone. and when you walk home with him, every single day, he prays to whatever god out there to thank them for letting him be the one to hold your hand — for giving him one more constant in his life that thankfully looks at him back and not curse him instead from his previous love failures.

[snoopychris]

nerd!matt loves your lipstick stains

there was something so relaxing about being with matt. it was so comforting. you smile to yourself as you’re scrolling through your phone, watching matt every so often as he rubs your leg gently. a certain video that shows up on your feed takes you by surprise, turning your phone off quickly. your curiosity gets the better of you, looking over at the boy beside you, his glasses discarded on your bedside table as he flipped through the pages of his calculus textbook.

“you ever watch porn?” it’s a blunt question, but one you were kind of curious to know the answer to. matt lets out a quiet chuckle as he closes the book, shaking his head as if you had asked him if 2+2 equaled 4.

“sweetie… be serious for a moment. you were like actually my first kiss obviously i’ve watched porn before… why do you ask? little freak.” matt jokes, grabbing his glasses and placing them on his nose. you chuckle as move the textbook away, allowing you to sit up on his lap as you push hair away from his forehead.

“i think you’re freakier than i’ll ever be and so your words have no effect on me.” you whisper, gently pressing a kiss to his lips. he smiles as he wraps his arms around your waist, pulling away for a moment to bury his face in the crook of your neck. the place the felt the most like home to him.

“my words have an extreme effect on you.” he mumbles, sighing contently as you press a long kiss on his cheek. he frowns when he feels one of your thumbs replace your lips, furrowing his brows. “hey no what are y’doin? keep kissing me don’t stop!” he whines quietly, blue eyes staring into yours. a quiet oh leaves his mouth when he sees the lipstick stain on your thumb and around your mouth, all signs pointing to it being on his cheek too.

“that’s um... pigmented.” he jokes, cheeks growing more and more red with each passing moment, more vibrant than the lipstick stain that was so visibly present. “can i get back to my homework now? those triple integrals were getting so interesting and i really should st-“

“you’re hard as a rock and you want… to study?” matt shrugs at your words, halting any movement as you gently kiss your way down his body. you make sure that each lipstick mark you leave on his skin is prominent enough to see, going as far to even reapply your lipstick when you get to the area surrounding his thighs. you kiss the tip of his bulge gently, the red tint being barely visible on the white cotton of his boxers. a breath that was stuck in the depths of matt’s throat finds its way out, one of his hands flying to your hair while the other grips his bedsheets.

it doesn’t take long for matt to crumble. within a few minutes, his glasses are covered in the fog that came from his own sweat and his hair is sticking to all parts of his face. he looks like he’s straight out of the video that had popped up on your phone. the same video that started this whole thing. your noises are only becoming louder and more audible as time goes on, the silent gagging and moans being a music to matt’s ears. his textbook was long discarded by now, matt having knocked it onto the floor earlier. matt smiles when you pull off of him to get some air, smirking when he sees the lipstick stains that cover the lower half of your face. he wants to call you pretty, but he’s unable to with how fast you put your mouth back on him.

“please… mph fuck fuck! fuck please please oh my-“ as matt’s breaths started getting louder and louder, your movements continued to grow faster. your lipstick was smudged all over his length from tip to base, the bright red a nice contrast to the pink in his cheeks. the self-restraint that he was trying so hard to keep flies out the window when you hollow your lips, causing a loud groan to leave his lips as he thrusts further up into your mouth, spurts of his release hitting the back of your throat. youre doing your best to assist him in riding out the orgasm when a few droplets of his cum join the lipstick in decorating the bottom half of your face, making matt chuckle slightly. he throws his head back in ecstasy, eyelashes batting up at the ceiling as he reaches for your hand as a form of support.

you grab onto him gently, positioning yourself next to him once more after wiping your lips clean on an old tshirt of matt’s that was on the edge of his bed. he smiles widely as he pulls you close, tracing circles on the small of your back before beginning to speak. “i think that was better than any porn i’ve watched.”

a/n: nerd!matt in april of 2025 this is insane.

tags: @ifwdominicfike @frankoceanfanpage @mattssslutbby @sophand4n4 @matthewsturnsgf @izzylovesmatt @m11rx @chris-hallelujah @sturniolotoast @chrisbratt333 @wastelandzella @le4hsblog @mattsd0llfac3 @st7rnioioss @isabellewhatt @sturnslutz @princessesgarden @ikyoudreamofme @allylovescody @ivysturnss @slutformatt17 @user1smvtysturniolo @chrislova @emely9274 @sturns-mermaid @throatgoat4u @13hoax @camzeecorner @darksturnz @oopsiedaisydeer @jetaimevous @muwapsturniolo

@chrattho1 @cvnntagious @sosasturns @whore4mattsturniolo @mattscoquette @submattenthusiast

[edwige-et-ibuprofene]

my friend got a scholarship for his MA i'm so happy for him <333

[hhoneylemon]

‘cause i lo-lo-love the chase

summary: you finally kiss your best friend after burgers and slushies. he’s ecstatic. 2k words.

inspired by this song and post

mark is sick to his stomach.

he feels like a pervert. every time you hang out, he’s watching you. he watches the way your face lights up as you laugh, how you apply lip balm every now and then, the face you make when you focus on the show playing on the tv.

his crush on you is embarrassing. could he even call it a crush at this point? he’d throw himself in front of a car for you. you probably wouldn’t even feel special if he said that, he’d do that for any civilian to make sure they were safe. feelings suck.

is it enough that he waits when each seance dog episode comes out so he can watch it with you when you’re free? he stays off of social media until then, opting for going flying, studying extra, watching random shows he’s never heard of. the gritting feeling of want and anticipation are almost unbearable. note the word almost; the way you ask him to explain something to you, listening to his dorky ramble, the way you sit side-to-side with him on the couch while watching, the way you give truthful opinions about the episode you’d just watched with him. you make it all worth it.

he loves you. he realized he did a long time ago, then decided to hold that in him and ‘wait for the right time.’ he regrets that sentiment when he watches you go out with other guys, a harsh grip squeezing his heart just to throw it to the ground and stepping on it repeatedly.

at least the relationships never lasted. at least he was always there to pick you back up with a hug and the offer to watch a terrible movie to get over it. it’s never failed to work.

now, mark sits on your bedroom floor as he scribbles down the answers to your current homework assignment. you sit on your bed, hands thrown up as you complain about one of your teachers. he’s only half listening, trying to focus on the work to complete it.

“and she lost the paper, but somehow it’s my fault? now i’m knocked down a whole letter grade because she isn’t good at her job. i literally have a witness who saw me turn it in.”

mark nods in response, finishing his paper. he leans his head back onto your mattress, looking up at you. he offers a dopey grin. you offer a small smile in exchange before sliding off the bed and sitting beside him on the floor.

“sounds shitty. i hope you can do make up work to bring it up.”

“yeah.”

you murmur in response, grunting in annoyance. mark takes a moment to soak your image into his memory. the setting sun is casting a golden glow onto your skin, illuminating and shadowing the right parts of your face. he finds his mouth has gone dry.

“it’s almost dinnertime. you might wanna get home to your mom, mark.”

you twist to face him better, a kind warmth appearing on your face. he nods, almost disappointed. he grabs his school bag, standing with a little grunt of effort. you stand and follow him to your window, unlocking it for him as he slips into the straps of his bag. he smiles at you with a sickening sweetness.

“i’ll see you tomorrow, alright?”

you nod as he climbs out, watching him with quiet fondness. the way the soft breeze ruffles his hair has you in a chokehold, the puppy-like look on his face as he debates leaving or staying longer in his mind. he hovers off of your room, feet kicked behind his thighs as he looks at you.

“yeah. burger mart, right?”

he grins, nodding. the way his eyes crinkle at the corners has your heart beating a little faster. 

“yep, sounds good. bye!”

mark takes off into the sky. you watch him until you’ve lost sight of him. that’s when you close and lock your window, sitting on your bed and pulling out your phone while waiting until you hear your mom calling you to come eat dinner.

( ´ ▽ ` ).｡ｏ♡

mark hates his life.

he kept you waiting! he got sidetracked stopping a bank shooting as invincible. he was twenty minutes late as he jogged into burger mart, scanning the tables to try and find you.

you sat alone in a booth in the far corner, sipping on a slushy. he slides into the seat across from you, offering an apologetic look.

“sorry, i was superhero-ing.”

“all good.”

you grin, biting at your bottom lip. a few chuckles escape you as you point at him.

“your, uh, shirt is backwards.”

mark looks down. the pattern of his tee was missing, not to mention the tag sticking out of his collar. he sighs, ears turning red in embarrassment. he then struggles with sliding his arms into his sleeves and turning the shirt around, fixing it. you smile in amusement the whole time, holding back a laugh. he was cute. and a loser.

“ugh. whatever. what do you want to eat, i’ll pay for it.”

your eyes widen at his words, shaking your head.

“you don’t have to, it’s okay.”

you begin standing, only for him to hold up a hand. he rises to his feet and shimmies out of the booth, already pulling his wallet from his back pocket.

“no, it’s okay. i don’t mind, really.”

you nibble on your bottom lip, but give in anyways. you tell mark your usual order and he walks to the counter to order. he comes back in a few minutes, an exasperated look on his face.

“i’m so glad i don’t work here anymore. the cashier looked like her life was sucked outta her. i know the feeling.”

you laugh in response, relaxing into the booth. you forgot what it was like to hang out with mark.  it was like a warm hug; comforting and safe, you could tell him anything and he would only mildly judge you, then he would offer terrible advice after.

one of the employees beings over a paper bag that contained your food. the two of you spend a long time chatting in the booth, long after you finish eating. mark only ushers you out after he noticed his old manager had clocked in.

“i wasn’t done my slushy.”

you complain, walking beside him down the street. he offers an apologetic smile.

“we can get one from somewhere else. there’s a 7/11 a few blocks down?”

“sounds good.”

he nods, the two of you falling back into a comfortable silence. you travel downtown, finding the 24 hour store that hides with a few unused buildings. a nail salon sits beside it, currently closed after a villain was thrown through one of the walls. across the street is a parking garage, presumably for the places people work at down the block.

mark grabs your wrist, pulling you into the 7/11 with a laugh.

“what’s so interesting about the parking garage? you scared tether tyrant is hiding in there?”

you playfully roll your eyes, following him to the slushy machine. the blue raspberry is out of order, as always. the revelation makes mark groan and clutch his forehead, as if his two other favorite flavors aren’t in stock.

you grab a medium cup and reach for your favorite flavor, causing his nose to shrivel.

“be adventurous. get the root beer, it’s so good. trust.”

“i will not trust, mark.”

you laugh at him, filling the cup halfway. just to make him smile, you fill the other half with root beer. you get the desired outcome, mark’s face housing a gentle smile as he reaches for his own cup to fill.

when you got to the cashier, he cheated. he murmured something about tether tyrant in the parking garage—of course you looked outside, nervous, as though a superhero wasn’t standing right beside you. you looked back to berate him for tricking you, just to see he’s already paid.

he walks you outside with a grin, sipping from his slushy. you reach over and nudge his shoulder with your own, rolling your eyes. 

“you’re insufferably a gentleman.”

he raises an eyebrow, a his grin turning teasing.

“such big words coming from you.”

you groan and massage your temples with your free hand. he’s such a dork.

the two of you lean against the wall of the 7/11, making small talk as you sip from your slushies. he had gotten mountain dew and cherry, his other two favorites. they stained his tongue a weird shade when he sticks it out at you after you poke fun of him. you smile weakly in turn.

maybe this would be your end. the sunset illuminating his features, him animatedly talking about who knows what, smelling like citrus and mint and something so incredibly mark.

you nervously fiddle with the pockets of your pants as you walk to the nearby trashcan. you throw your cup away before mark’s right at your side, throwing his away as well. his mouth is still moving, though you’ve long lost what he’s been saying. the two of you walk into the parking lot while he continues talking, and them he smiles.

oh, it’s devastating. your heart stutters in your chest. your brain stops working. you do something stupid.

your hands find his cheeks. his eyes widen and his mouth finally stops moving, his cheeks turning pink. you pull him close and your lips meet.

it’s slow, soft. his lips are cold from the slushy. he tastes like mountain dew and cherries. you feel him move, so you open your eyes and part your guys’ lips. mark’s eyes open in confusion, only to widen when you begin laughing.

“oh, mark.”

he’s confused. but, oh, are you shorter than usual? he looks closer and—he’s not even on the ground. his entire face flushes as he touches back down, hands gently resting on your hips.

“god, that’s embarrassing.”

“do i kiss that good? you gonna fly away if i do it again, fly boy?”

he averts his gaze for a moment, shutting his eyes. he can’t believe you’re bullying him over this—

“do it again?”

his eyes fly open and he turns to look at you. your own eyes widen in response, a tad of uncertainty appearing in your eyes and creeping around in your brain.

“shit, sorry. i won’t do it again, sorry, i just—“

mark leans in, lips pressing softly to yours. he gently sighs against you, savoring the flavor of you. he loves root beer.

he pulls away when he needs air, eyes fluttering open to take in the sight of you. you’re beautiful. he smiles big, happiness radiating off of him in waves.

“i can walk you home now.”

“alright.”

you walk beside him, walking the few blocks to get back to your house. he walks you all the way up to tour door before stopping you, grabbing you by the wrist. he offers a gentle smile.

“hey. i hope this means something. like—i can take you out soon?”

a smile hints at your lips. you nod, arms wrapping around his neck.

“sounds good.”

mark leans in and kisses you for a third time that night. this time, his lips can’t help but form a smile. he can’t help if he lifts off the ground again, either. he also can’t help that he brought you up with him, slowly spinning the two of you together.

he drops back down, thumbs gently rubbing against the flesh of your hips. his forehead finds yours as he bites his bottom lip.

“same time on friday?”

you snort, fingers playing with the hairs at the nape of his neck.

“sure thing, fly boy.”

masterlist

[lexiputellas]

Fractured Pieces - From the Broken Vows series

The dining table is a battlefield of school supplies.

Pencils roll dangerously close to the edge, erasers are scattered across the wooden surface, and Nora’s workbook is flipped open to a page she’s half-heartedly working on. You already know how this will end—she’ll finish her assignment, push her chair back, and run off without a second glance at the mess.

Then, you’ll call her back. She’ll groan. You’ll ask again. She’ll groan louder. You’ll threaten no screen time. She’ll sigh dramatically and say, 'Mom, in a minute! I’m playing.'

You already know the script.

Right now, though, she’s pretending to concentrate, tongue poking out slightly as she grips a red pencil and presses it into the paper a little too hard. You watch her from across the table, chin resting on your hand.

"Nora, careful. You’re going to rip the page."

She loosens her grip but doesn’t look up. "I know."

You hide a smile. She’s stubborn, just like her other mom.

For a few blissful moments, the only sound is the faint scratch of her pencil against paper. It’s peaceful, almost.

Then—

"Mom?"

There’s something about the way she says it that makes you pause.

"Yeah, baby?"

She finally lifts her head, eyes wide, brows scrunched together in that serious way that makes her look too grown for her little face.

"Why isn’t Mama here anymore?"

The question slams into your chest like a freight train.

You choke. Literally choke. Air catches in your throat, and for a second, all you can do is blink at her, heart pounding.

"What do you mean, baby?" You force a smile, keeping your voice light. "Mama’s always here."

Nora’s lips press together in a tight line. She’s not buying it.

"No, she’s not. You don’t sleep in the same bed anymore."

Your stomach twists.

"Abi said you and Mama are breaking up. She said that’s what happens when parents don’t love each other anymore."

Your jaw clenches.

"Abi said that?"

Nora nods, playing with the corner of her workbook. "Yeah. Her parents don’t live together anymore, so she knows stuff. She said first you stop sleeping in the same room, then one moves out, and then… then they don’t love each other anymore."

There’s an ache in your chest so sharp it’s hard to breathe.

"Sweetheart," you start gently, reaching across the table to brush a curl from her face. "That’s not what’s happening, okay?"

Nora’s nose scrunches. "Then why doesn’t Mama sleep here?"

You hesitate—too long. She notices.

"She just… needed to stay closer to training and the city for a little while," you lie.

It’s a bad lie. Even you don’t believe it.

"Then why can’t we live there too?"

You open your mouth, then close it again.

"Because… her apartment is small. It wouldn’t fit all of our stuff, would it?"

Nora stares at you. Unblinking.

"But it’s just for now," you add quickly, too quickly.

She tilts her head, eyes narrowing like she’s trying to work out a puzzle with missing pieces. You can see the gears turning in her little head, the doubt creeping in.

You swallow. This is going to come back and bite you. You know it will.

After a long moment, she looks down, dragging a finger over the edge of the page.

"Is it going to take long?" she asks quietly. "For her to come back?"

Your heart shatters.

"No, baby," you whisper, stroking her hair. "It’s going to pass faster than you think."

She doesn’t look up. She doesn’t believe you. You don’t either.

"I miss her," she murmurs. "Iris misses her too."

Your throat tightens.

"I know," you say, and it’s the most honest thing you’ve said all night.

She doesn’t push anymore. Just nods, picks up her pencil, and goes back to her homework. But the mood has shifted. There’s a weight in the air that wasn’t there before.

You glance at the clock. It’s late.

"Finish this last part, and then we’ll clean up, okay?" you say, trying to steady yourself.

"Can’t you do it?" she groans.

"Nope." You stand, stretching. "Your homework, your responsibility."

She huffs, slumping over the table dramatically. "Ugh. Fine."

You don’t answer, already walking toward the kitchen, heart still pounding. You grab the baby monitor, checking the screen. Iris is curled up in her bed upstairs, one tiny fist resting against her cheek.

She’s been clinging to you more than ever lately. So much so that even her naps are restless unless she knows you’re nearby.

You exhale slowly.

Maybe therapy wouldn’t be a bad idea. For them. For you.

Your phone sits on the counter, screen dark now, but you remember the morning—

Alexia had called earlier, just after breakfast. You had picked up.

"Hey," she had said, voice careful, almost too soft. "I wanted to talk about Nora’s birthday. What are we getting her?"

You kept your voice even. "She wants a new bike. Says her old one is too small now."

"Yeah, I remember her saying that," Alexia murmured. There was a pause, then— "Do you want to pick it out together?"

You blinked, caught off guard. That wasn’t what you expected.

"Uh… if you want."

"I think we should," she said, her voice careful. "I mean… it’s her birthday. We should do this together."

The words made your stomach twist. They were reasonable. Too reasonable. Like she was trying too hard to sound normal.

You hesitated. You didn’t want to do this with her. But you had to.

"Yeah," you said finally. "Okay."

"Okay," she echoed, softer this time. Then, "And what else? What should we get her?"

You exhaled slowly, pressing two fingers against your temple. "She’s been asking for more art supplies. I was thinking of putting together a little kit."

"That’s a good idea," Alexia said. Then, after a beat, "Maybe we can pick those out together too?"

There was something about the way she said it. Careful. Testing the waters.

You didn’t want to. Not really.

"If you want."

"I do."

Silence stretched between you, long enough that you could hear your own pulse in your ears.

"How is she?" Alexia asked. "And Iris?"

"They’re good," you said, even though good wasn’t the right word.

Another pause.

"And you?"

The question felt dangerous. Too close to something you weren’t willing to touch.

"I’m fine," you answered, because anything else would be too much.

Alexia hesitated again, like she was on the verge of saying something more.

"Can I pick you up tomorrow morning? We can go together."

Your stomach twisted again, this time sharper. No. That was your first instinct. But then you thought about Nora, about the way she still checked the front door at night, as if hoping Alexia might walk through it.

"I’ll drive there," you said instead. "We can meet at the mall."

There was a slight pause before she responded, hesitant. "Okay."

You swallowed hard.

A million thoughts raced through your mind, all leading to the same realization—tomorrow, you’d have to see her. Spend time with her. Go through the motions.

You weren’t ready. But you’d do it anyway.

For Nora. For Iris.

Because that’s just what you do.

[prlssprfctn]

A fun little headcannon is that everyone believes Jason to prefer paperback and physical paper but he honestly doesn't care. Maybe it stems from his Robin days reading for hours in the manor library. Or how'd he always tell Bruce to write down the details of the case to solve it faster. Or even that they needed to have physical copies of each file in case the Batcomputer got hacked. It just stuck with Bruce and by extension everyone believes it.

But like he would totally love an eReader with how many books you can fit on it. Audio books are even better because he can listen to them anywhere. The man likes the stories people have to tell. How he consumes it isn't a concern. But of course he has a flare for dramatics so he plays into this misconception.

Steph: Jason, I know you'd prefer a physical book but I got a Kindle that you could use more than me.

Jason who already owns the newest model takes it and chucks it at the floor: Disgusting.

Tim at the Batcomputer: Why do we need to write up a report for Condiment King of all people. Its the third one this month!

Jason: Back in my day we would hand write each and every report.

Dick: No we didn't???

Jason magically pulling out a file cabinet with said case files.

Jason: Honestly we should start doing that again let me go ask Bruce.

Bruce: Honestly if you'd wait five more minutes someone would have come in as backup. You don't need to do everything on your own Hood.

Jason completely ignoring him because he's got books downloaded on his helmet.

Damian next to him knowing what Jason is up to because he did the exact same thing with Ra's.

YES, YES!

i think Jason loves paperback when it is his already favourite books, the ones he knows he loves and wants to annotate and explore — otherwise, he prefers to try books in e-version first. or borrow books from the library if he is in the mood. he strikes me as someone who loves supporting local libraries! plus, listens audio-books on missions and during work-outs, yep, yep.

do other family members have a wrong opinion in that in their minds because Bruce is the "heard my kid mentioning something once, now i think their whole personality evolves around this thing" type of parent sometimes? oh, fucking absolutely. does Jason love to play on the stereotype of "boomer" sibling? yeah— lol.

also, he is a type of kid who would remind the teacher about homework (i think he genuinely cared about this as a kid and didn't understand why everyone got mad, but now he knows WHY, and he will do it EVERYONE'S problem) and combined with him, writing reports on papers, i raise you this:

Bruce, tired by the end of the patrol: Had we discussed everything? Hadn't I forgotten something?

literally everyone but Jason, quickly: no, no, we are fine. ha-ha.

Jason, appearing behind them: well. actually. we all now should write our reports.

Bruce: oh, right.

Jason, smirking: here is mine, by the way. i wrote it while you are all was bickering.

Bruce: so competent! thank you, lad.

Other kids, fuming: -_-

also, the image of Jason blasting audio-books through his helmet is frying me. so, get this:

Dick: Jason is so suspiciously calm for the last few days! like, seriously. proud of him.

Tim: right? it is actually hilarious. Bruce was screaming at him yesterday, and Jason was just staring at him silently, no word, no remark... he was so quiet that Bruce instantly felt bad and apologised. like. master-tecnique. lol.

Jason, who was listening to audio-book all this time, and didn't even hear what Bruce said, just nodded when he started randomly hugging him and murmuring "my baby": whatever.

[holyblonded]

negotiations | always sunny in australia

pairings: arsenal wfc x teen!reader

summary: your contract is under negotiation, causing unrest on the team

notes: i feel like i am slacking in the chickie fics 💔

Leah Williamson couldn’t sleep. Her sheets were tangled like the mess in her head, the clock taunting her with every passing minute that nothing was changing.

How could she possibly sleep when her entire world was in shambles?

Some might call her dramatic. Leah would call them wrong.

Your one-year contract with Arsenal was coming to an end, and negotiations were happening behind closed doors— closed, locked, and apparently soundproofed doors that Leah had no access to. Every time your agent was asked about your future, she gave the same vague response,

“I’m doing what’s best for Chickie.”

Which was sweet. Noble. Responsible. And also not nearly enough information for someone who had basically appointed herself your co-parent, moral compass, part-time chauffeur, and emotional support footballer.

So yeah, Leah was stressed. But she wasn’t alone. Across London, your actual legal guardian was also losing it. Leah’s phone buzzed next to her pillow. 2:47 AM. She picked it up faster than she had in her life. “Finally,” she whispered.

“Are you alone?” Sam’s voice came through, dead serious.

“Yes. Are you?”

“I’m in the laundry room with the dog. No one suspects anything.”

Leah sat up. “Is your team ready?”

Sam let out a low chuckle. “Everything is set in place. Vic’s on standby. Kyra’s been bribed.”

Leah smirked, already proud. “Good. My team’s been briefed. Beth’s got the snacks, Lotte’s baking passive-aggressive pies. We’re ready.”

There was a pause. A dramatic silence only two women plotting to emotionally manipulate a child into signing a football contract could share.

“I’ll be dropping off the package at approximately 8 AM,” Sam said finally, solemn. “Make sure everything’s in position.”

“Roger that.” Leah saluted into the phone.

That’s when the bedroom door creaked open.

Leah whipped around and yelped, fumbling the phone and almost knocking over her bedside lamp.

Elle stood in the doorway, arms crossed, one perfectly sculpted brow raised in judgment. “What. Are. You. Doing.”

Leah blinked. “Uh. Nothing.”

“Nothing?” Elle’s voice was suspiciously calm. “Because that nothing sounded like you were coordinating a covert operation with a woman in a laundry room.”

“I don’t—there’s no covert—” Leah was stammering now, panic painted all over her face.

Elle raised a hand. “Leah Cathrine Williamson, if you are plotting behind Chickie’s back—”

“I’m not!” Leah shouted, then immediately winced and lowered her voice. “I’m not. I swear.”

Elle walked in, graceful and terrifying in her silk pajama set. “She’s a kid. And yes, she might joke and act chaotic and get away with everything because she’s adorable, but you have to respect her decisions.”

Leah opened her mouth.

“I’m not done.”

Leah closed her mouth.

“Her contract is her choice. You can’t bribe her or manipulate her or—”

“Sam already gave her a custom pair of cleats with ‘London’s Little Terror’ printed on the side,” Leah mumbled.

Elle stopped mid-rant. “You what?”

“I didn’t do it! Sam did! And Mario offered to do her Spanish homework for a month, and Kyra promised to make TikToks with her every day, and—”

“Leah.”

“What?!”

“She’s fifteen.”

“I know. That’s why we’re doing this!”

Elle opened her mouth to reply, but Leah was already up, throwing on a hoodie. “I’ve gotta go.”

“To where?!”

“To the Emirates. The cakes need frosting. I gotta be there when she walks in.”

“You are deranged.”

Leah, already halfway out the door, just grinned and shouted back, “We all are, babe. She’s ours.”

Elle stood there in the doorway, blinking at the chaos her girlfriend had become.

Somewhere in the darkness, the real MVP of Arsenal, Chickie, slept peacefully, unaware that the next morning was about to be full of suspicious pies, emotional bribery, and thirty very dramatic people pretending they weren’t all completely obsessed with her.

Vic, Kyra, and Beth stood pressed against the wall in the hallway like they were part of a low-budget spy movie. Arms crossed. Expressions intense. Suspiciously casual. Beth had even shoved a protein bar halfway in her mouth like she was definitely not trying to cover for something.

Renee walked by, clipboard in hand, eyes squinting at them as she slowed her steps.

“Alright. What are you three planning?”

Immediately, all three said, “Nothing,” in perfect harmony like it had been rehearsed. Beth even smiled with all her teeth… too many teeth.

Renee narrowed her eyes. Vic stared ahead like she’d never committed a crime in her life. Kyra fiddled with her sleeve like she wasn’t plotting emotional warfare. Beth blinked, possibly trying to look innocent but instead looking like someone hiding a raccoon in her bag.

Renee took one step forward, and they all visibly tensed. “I’m going to ask one more time—” she began, but a voice called from the end of the hallway.

“Coach! We need you in the physio room!”

Renee gave them one last squint and reluctantly turned on her heel. “This isn’t over.”

As soon as she disappeared, the three of them exhaled dramatically like they’d just evaded a SWAT team.

Then there you were. Just walking down the hall, blissfully unaware, humming a Laufey song under your breath.

They all exchanged a look.

“Now,” Beth said.

Vic reached out like a ninja and yanked you by the sleeve into the nearest door, Kyra shutting it behind you with suspicious speed and determination.

You stumbled into the physio room, blinking at the snacks scattered around, chips, cookies, juice boxes, a suspicious number of croissants.

“Um,” you said.

Beth locked the door.

Vic grabbed your shoulders gently but with great purpose. “We won’t let you out until you spill.”

Kyra pointed at you with a banana. “Where are you going next season?”

You blinked at them. “This is dramatic.”

“You’re dramatic,” Beth mumbled through a mouthful of gummy bears.

You giggled, plopping onto the padded physio table like you were being held hostage by puppies instead of professionals. “You guys are actually crazy.”

“Crazy in love with our baby Chickie!” Vic wailed, flopping down beside you and cradling your arm. “Just tell us. We can’t take the suspense.”

“I can’t tell you,” you said, still laughing.

“Okay, fine,” Kyra muttered. “Time for temptation.”

Vic leaned in, deadly serious. “I will do your homework. A full week. Even the maths.”

Beth gasped. “Not the maths.”

You tilted your head. “All of it? Even history?”

Vic flinched. “…Even history.”

You giggled but shook your head. “Can’t. Sorry.”

Kyra crossed her arms. “Then I’m calling Sam.”

You looked her dead in the eye and said, “Do it. She’ll probably join your little rebellion and bring snacks.”

Kyra blinked. “True.”

Beth, meanwhile, said nothing. She simply reached into her bag and pulled out a sparkly, glitter-covered sign that said in bold bubble letters: STAY.

With three glitter hearts and your name spelled out in rhinestones.

You burst out laughing, sliding off the table. “You guys are unwell.”

“We love you,” Beth said. “Let us have this.”

You opened the door, still giggling, and as you walked out, you threw them a grin over your shoulder.

“I guess you’ll find out soon enough… if your muffins are good enough.”

The door shut behind you, and all three girls stared at each other in stunned silence.

“She’s messing with us,” Vic whispered.

“I knew she was a menace,” Kyra said.

Beth sighed, hugging her sparkly sign. “I respect it.”

Leah had been patient. Painfully, torturously patient. She’d watched the others try. Watched Vic bribe, Kyra threaten, and Beth basically create an arts-and-crafts-based emotional hostage situation. But now… it was her turn. And she wasn’t going in with snacks or sparkles. She was going in with emotion.

“Hey Chick,” Leah said casually, hands in her jacket pockets, head poking into the rec room where you were minding your own business, watching a video of a squirrel on a skateboard.

You turned, suspicious. “Hi…”

“Fancy a walk?” she asked, voice light, but with a slightly manic glint in her eyes.

You narrowed yours. “A walk.”

“Just a casual one. Around the facility.” Her smile was too nice.

You sighed. “You’re gonna guilt-trip me, aren’t you?”

“Absolutely.”

You considered that, then stood up. “Alright. Let’s see what you’ve got.”

The tour began at the entrance of the training complex. Leah made sure to slow her pace as you passed the front wall, where a massive photo of your mid-goal-celebration was printed on the side of the building.

She stopped dramatically and gestured toward it like she was Vanna White.

“Wow,” she said, her voice dripping with reverence. “Would you look at that. Who’s that? Is that Chickie? Huh. Wild.”

You squinted up at the photo. “That’s from the Brighton match, you told me I celebrated like a gremlin.”

“A powerful gremlin,” she corrected, before continuing on.

She led you through the hallway lined with photos and memorabilia, kits, trophies, all the stuff that said “This is Arsenal and We’re Kinda a Big Deal.” And every few feet, she’d stop and point something out.

“Remember this?” she asked, tapping a picture of you and Leah laughing after your first match. “You were so nervous you nearly put your shin pads on backwards.”

You groaned. “Leah—”

“And this one,” she continued, pointing to a shot of you hugging Beth after a last-minute assist. “Everyone cried. Even me. And I’m so emotionally stable.”

You snorted. “Lies.”

They passed the physio room. She paused at the door.

“Just the other day I saw Vic, Kyra, and Beth dragging you in here like it was a hostage situation,” Leah said. “And what did I do? I let it happen. Because this is your home. A loving home. Where kidnapping is done respectfully.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You think this is subtle?”

“Nope,” she said brightly. “But is it working?”

You rolled your eyes, but your smile gave you away.

Then Leah upped the stakes. You two walked outside now, onto the training pitch, where everything was calm. The sun was just setting, casting a warm light over the grass. Leah pulled her hands out of her pockets and looked at you, suddenly soft.

“You know,” she began, voice quieter now. “When you showed up, I didn’t know what to expect. You were all wide eyes and nervous energy and this massive heart that you tried to hide under your hoodie.”

You looked down at your feet, kicking at the grass.

“But you got under my skin so fast. In a good way. You made me laugh again, made the team lighter. You talk too fast and steal everyone’s drinks and I caught you naming the training cones once.”

“Stanley and Patricia,” you muttered.

“Exactly,” Leah grinned. “And when you’re not around, it feels weird. Quiet. Too grown-up. Like something’s missing.”

You tried to hide your face in your sleeve. “This isn’t fair.”

Leah stepped closer, gently bumping your shoulder. “My mum asks about you every time we talk. You’ve got everyone wrapped around your finger. The crowd chants your name. You’ve got your face on three walls. You’re not just part of the team, Chickie. You are the team. You’re Arsenal.”

You looked up at her with a soft little frown. “Why are you saying all this?”

Leah smiled, so earnest it made your chest ache. “Because I love you, kid. And I’m scared. I don’t want to lose you. But I know I have to respect whatever you choose. Still, if there’s any part of you that wonders where you belong… just know, it’s here.”

You blinked hard, tears threatening. “So… manipulation. But make it heartfelt.”

Leah shrugged. “Pretty much.”

You sniffled, laughing through it. “You’re such a loser.”

“But am I a convincing loser?”

You threw your arms around her waist and buried your face in her hoodie. “I can’t say. I’m emotionally compromised.”

Leah smiled, hugging you back tightly. “Good. My job here is done.”

She walked you back in, a little skip in her step, muttering under her breath, “Sam owes me five bucks.”

It was a perfectly normal afternoon. Or at least it should have been.

You were hungry, minding your own business, just trying to make your way into the cafeteria for some pasta and possibly a suspiciously dry brownie. You pushed open the door, walked in and the entire room fell silent.

Not quiet. Silent. Like, “a pin could drop and echo” silent.

You froze in the doorway, tray in hand, eyes scanning the sea of teammates who suddenly couldn’t meet your gaze.

Steph stood up first. “I, uh, just remembered I left my… shampoo on the pitch.”

You blinked. “Your shampoo?”

“Yeah. Real slippery stuff. Can’t risk it.” She bolted.

Kyra followed, gripping Vic by the elbow like they were hostages escaping a war zone. “We have… stretching to do.”

“In the broom closet?” you asked flatly.

“Dynamic stretching.”

Beth pretended to get a phone call. “Oh look, it’s… the Prime Minister. Gotta go.”

You watched her sprint out with the phone screen clearly off.

One by one, they all trickled out, Caitlin muttering about an “urgent email,” Laia claiming she had “a soup emergency,” and Katie just yelling “NOPE” and walking away at full speed.

Within seconds, the packed cafeteria was empty. All except one person.

Lotte. Sweet, chaos-immune Lotte Wubben-Moy, who sat at the very center table with a suspiciously large pie sitting in front of her. She looked up at you with those innocent, hopeful eyes, and gestured to the seat across from her.

You sighed.

You made your way over slowly, already regretting every choice that led to this moment. You sat down, slid your tray aside, and looked at the pie.

It had “DON’T LEAVE” spelled out in carefully crimped crust letters. It was a lattice-crust plea for emotional commitment.

You stared at it. “You baked your feelings.”

Lotte smiled like this was normal behavior. “It’s blueberry. Your favorite.”

“I thought my favorite was peach.”

“I found that out after this one was already in the oven,” she replied, without missing a beat.

You kept staring at the pie, then at her, then back at the pie. You reached for the fork and the whipped cream. Lotte leaned in, eyes wide, waiting for the emotional moment and you just dug in.

With no hesitation, no comment. Just a bite. Then another. Like the words weren’t even there.

Lotte looked personally offended.

“You’re just… eating over the message?” she said, horrified.

“Yup,” you mumbled around a mouthful of flaky, guilt-ridden crust. “It’s good pie.”

“The message, Chickie,” she said, poking at the edge of the tin. “Are we ignoring the part where it says not to leave us in baked lettering?!”

You shrugged and took another bite. “Seems dramatic.”

Lotte gaped. “You are suddenly emotionally unavailable in the worst way.”

“Yup,” you said again, voice cheerful.

“Do you even care how much we’ll miss you?”

You paused, looked at her for a second, really looked, and then reached out and picked up the whole pie tin.

“Thanks for the snack,” you said with a wink, and walked away, pie in hand.

Behind you, Lotte dramatically collapsed onto the table like a tragic Shakespearean hero. “I BAKED MY SOUL INTO THAT CRUST!”

From down the hallway, you yelled back, “AND I’M TAKING IT TO MY ROOM!”

It started out as a simple mission. Well. As simple as anything gets when the team has collectively decided to break every ethical guideline in the “Contract Negotiation Interference Handbook” to figure out whether you were staying at Arsenal or leaving for another club.

Alessia had been quiet at first. Watching. Waiting. Letting the others attempt their wild schemes, Vic’s emotional monologues, Kyra’s threats, Beth’s glitter posters, Lotte’s pie-shaped manipulation. All good efforts. All massive failures.

So Alessia decided to take a different route. A calculated one. A bribery one.

You were sitting on one of the benches outside the training ground, minding your business, trying not to crack under the collective weight of a team who had turned into a desperate cult of affection.

Alessia approached with a calm, neutral expression. A shoebox in her hands.

You blinked. “What’s that?”

“Oh, nothing,” she said casually. “Just something I thought you’d like. No pressure. No questions. Just a gift.”

You looked suspicious. “This isn’t a trap?”

Alessia gave you a beatific smile. “I’m not Kyra.”

Fair point. You opened the box. And then you saw them. Bright. Yellow. Boots. Custom-made. Kangaroos embroidered on the sides. “CHICKIE #1 GUNNER” printed across the heel in bold white lettering. Your eyes widened like dinner plates.

You didn’t speak. Not immediately. You just stared at them. Then sniffled. Then blinked. Then let out a soft, high-pitched squeak as your bottom lip trembled.

“Oh—oh no,” Alessia panicked. “Are you crying?”

You nodded, aggressively. “Th-these are the most b-beautiful boots I’ve ever seen!”

Alessia winced. “Oh my god. I didn’t mean to make you cry. I thought this would make you—oh, Chickie—”

You were already hugging the box to your chest like it was a newborn child. “You know yellow’s my favorite color and kangaroos are my favorite animal and that slogan—you remembered my slogan—”

Alessia awkwardly sat down beside you, patting your back as you fully sobbed into the cardboard. “Okay, alright, breathe. It’s okay. They’re just boots. Special boots. Very cute boots. But boots.”

“I love them so much,” you wailed.

“I know, honey, I know.”

That’s when Leah stormed into view like a general on a battlefield. “Less! I told you to get the info out of her, not her tears!”

“She cried when she saw the boots!” Alessia defended, hands raised.

“They have kangaroos on them!” you sobbed, holding them up like Simba in The Lion King. “And my slogan, Leah!”

“Oh my god,” Leah muttered, rubbing her temples.

Alessia leaned into you again and whispered, “You sure you don’t wanna just hint at your decision? Maybe one boot tap for yes?”

You shook your head violently, tears still streaming. “This is such a sweet gesture. I—I—” You hiccupped. “I want to wear them forever.”

Leah sat down with a thud. “I hate it here.”

Alessia shrugged, gently pulling you into a side hug as you sniffled into her shoulder. “Honestly? I think I won.”

“You got her snot on your hoodie,” Leah said, unhelpfully.

You clutched the boots tighter. “I love you guys so much.”

“Still not telling us anything, though,” Leah said.

You shook your head with a tiny smile, eyes wet, nose stuffy, heart full. “Nope.”

Alessia sighed. “I gave her kangaroo boots and all I got was this emotional breakdown.”

Leah muttered, “Add that to the shirt.”

Kristie knew before you did. Of course she did. That’s the curse and blessing of being loved by someone like Kristie Mewis. She just knows.

She doesn’t ask, not right away. She doesn’t push or poke like the rest of the squad. She watches you stumble around with your hair a mess and your brain even messier. She brings you snacks. Ruffles your hair. Says things like “wherever you go, we’re gonna love you anyway” which is so annoying.

You try not to think about the decision when you’re with her. You talk about everything else. You help her decorate the nursery. You watch her wobble dramatically around the house, hand pressed to her lower back, dramatically asking, “Will you still love me when I’m just a human beach ball?”

You tell her she’ve always been a beach ball, but like… a really hot one.

You both giggle. She throws a pillow at you. But then one night, it gets quiet. Too quiet.

It’s late. The house is dark. Sam’s already passed out on the couch with a cookie halfway in her mouth.

You crawl into bed next to Kristie. You’re still wearing your oversized hoodie, the one with the red Arsenal crest faded from too many washes. You burrow yourself under the covers, half trying to disappear.

She doesn’t say anything. Just waits. And eventually, with your cheek pressed against her shoulder, you whisper, “I have so many options, Kris.”

“I know, baby.”

“Like, real ones. Barça. Lyon. City. A team in the NWSL even called.”

“I know.”

“They all say the same things, like it’s going to be the perfect step, or a new chapter, or a great financial move. But…” Your voice cracks a little. “It all just feels wrong.”

Kristie hums, rubbing your back slowly. “Because it’s not home.”

You nod, hoodie pulled up so she can’t see your teary face.

She keeps stroking your back, soft and patient.

“Sometimes I wonder,” you mumble, “if I’m just scared of change. Or if I’m making the easy choice. But then I see the girls at training, or hear Leah yelling at me from three rooms away, or I remember how Beth brings me strawberry milk when I’m sad, and I think… this isn’t the easy choice. It’s the right one.”

Kristie tilts her head and kisses the top of your hair.

You take a shaky breath. “I said yes.” A pause. “I’m staying.”

There’s no dramatic gasp. No over-the-top celebration. Kristie just holds you tighter and murmurs against your forehead, “Good. You’re home.”

You smile into her shirt.

“I mean,” she adds after a beat, “you still owe me like two months of foot rubs for the emotional toll of this whole saga, but yeah—home’s a good start.”

You groan. “Can’t believe you emotionally supported me just to invoice me.”

Kristie laughs. “Kid, this is the Mewis Package™. Love, emotional stability, and accountability. You signed up the second you crawled into my lap that day after your first press conference and cried about Sam feeding you spoiled Vegemite.”

You roll your eyes. “You still bring that up.”

“You said it tasted like regret and burnt rubber. I’ll never forget that.”

She leans down and kisses your forehead again. “We’re so proud of you, Chickie. No matter what. But I’m really glad you’re staying.”

You grin. “So… can I stay in your bed forever too?”

“Okay, no,” Kristie says, laughing. “One child at a time. The baby hasn’t even arrived yet and I already have one Chickie curled up like a feral hoodie goblin.”

You stick your tongue out and nuzzle closer. “Too late. I live here now.”

Kristie sighs. “I’m gonna have to get a bigger bed.”

And you both fall asleep like that, hoodie goblin and soccer mom, curled up safe, home, and finally, finally at peace.

The locker room was silent. Like the kind of silence that pressed in around your chest and made it hard to breathe. The kind of silence that came after goodbyes, after endings, after heartbreak.

No one said it out loud, but they all felt it. The tension was thicker than a milkshake on a summer day. It hung in the air like fog, heavy and impossible to see through. They were all waiting.

Lotte sat with her elbows on her knees, staring at the floor. Kyra had her head against the wall, arms crossed tight across her chest. Vic was half-hunched in a corner, pulling at the strings on her hoodie like they’d unravel her anxiety. Alessia scrolled aimlessly on her phone, not even looking at the screen. Even Beth wasn’t smiling.

Leah paced. She’d been pacing for ten minutes straight, muttering to herself under her breath like she was delivering a dramatic monologue in a Shakespearean tragedy. Lia had given up on getting her to sit down.

“Do you remember when she first arrived?” Alessia asked suddenly, voice soft.

A murmur of agreement went through the room.

“She walked in with the biggest hoodie I’ve ever seen,” Kyra added. “And said, ‘Is it always this cold in England, or is this a punishment?’”

They all laughed, even if it was a little watery.

“She used to get so nervous before games,” Lotte said, a smile tugging at her lips. “But then she’d go out there and nutmeg someone twice her size.”

“And that one time she tackled Leah during training and then offered her a gummy bear as an apology,” Vic said through a sniffle.

Leah paused her pacing just long enough to scowl. “She launched herself at me like a cannonball.”

“But you ate the gummy bear,” Kyra pointed out.

Everyone chuckled.

“She changed this team,” Beth murmured, voice cracking just slightly. “Made it warmer. Lighter. Louder. Better.”

A hush settled again.

“I don’t know what we’re going to do without her,” Alessia said. “It’s not just about football. It’s—” she swallowed, “—not seeing her every day. Not hearing her giggle when she sneaks biscuits into the physio room. Not having her throw herself across the locker room just to give you a hug after a bad game.”

“I miss her already,” Vic mumbled.

“She’s not even gone yet,” Leah said, almost defensively. But even her voice was trembling. “She’s just… deciding.”

The door creaked open.

Renee walked in with a grin so wide it was practically criminal. She had something tucked under her arm. A laptop. And a gleam in her eye.

“Right,” she said, “everyone pay attention.”

They all straightened, alert. Hope sparked, but no one wanted to say it out loud. Not yet. Not until they were sure.

Renee opened the laptop, turned it toward them, and pressed play.

The screen flickered. And there you were. Wearing your kit, hair pulled back, standing in the middle of the training pitch with a nervous, excited smile.

Your voice was soft but clear.

“Hi. Uh, surprise? I guess. I’ve been thinking a lot, and it hasn’t been easy. But the truth is…” You looked into the camera, eyes bright. “I’m not done here.”

The room exploded. Beth screamed. Kyra started yelling. Vic burst into tears so aggressively she dropped her water bottle. Lotte stood up and immediately sat back down like her knees gave out. Alessia looked like she was going to faint.

And Leah? Leah fell straight to the floor like a Victorian woman being struck by a scandal. Lia didn’t even try to catch her this time. She just sighed and rubbed her temples.

“Oh my GOD,” Leah gasped, clutching her chest dramatically. “I thought I was going to have to start watching Barça matches.”

Beth was crying so hard she couldn’t speak, just waving her arms around like she was conducting an emotional orchestra.

And then the door opened again. And there you were. Smiling. Calm. Hoodie up, but your Arsenal crest proudly peeking out from underneath.

“Told you I was good at keeping secrets,” you said with a cheeky grin.

You didn’t even get the chance to take another step before they swarmed you. Like a pack of overexcited puppies, they tackled you in a group hug that nearly took you down. Arms wrapped around your waist, your shoulders, your legs. Someone kissed your cheek. You were pretty sure it was Beth. Vic buried her face into your side, sobbing. Alessia just held your hand like you were going to disappear again.

“Don’t do that again!” Lotte said between tears.

“You scared us!” Kyra added.

“You’re not allowed to go anywhere without written permission from the group chat,” Vic sniffled.

“Yeah,” Leah added, pulling back just long enough to point a very stern finger at you. “We’re implementing another buddy system.”

You laughed. Overwhelmed, flushed, happy beyond belief.

“I’m not going anywhere,” you said, hugging them tighter. “This is home.”

They all squeezed you even harder. And in that cramped, chaotic locker room, full of laughter and happy sobs and glittery signs and people who loved you. It really, truly was home.

[my-castles-crumbling]

glisten - @wolfstarmicrofic - NSFW - word count: 343

“Moony?” Sirius asked, walking into the Prefects’ bathroom and looking around the steam-filled room.

“Here.”

As he walked closer to the pool-sized bath, Sirius was able to make out the shape of Remus, who was sitting at the opposite end of the water, which covered him to his bellybutton. It only took Sirius a moment to spot Remus’s folded-up clothes by the edge and realize- the boy was completely naked underneath the bubbles.

“Oh,” he mumbled, feeling himself go bright red. “Sorry. We were worried, I said I’d look for you since James had Head Boy duty, and-”

“The water sometimes helps after the moons,” Remus shrugged, seemingly unbothered by their current predicament. “Been doing this for years.”

Sirius, however, was quite distracted. His eyes zoomed in on one single drop of water that was slowly dripping down Remus’s glistening chest, and he felt his mouth go dry. How he wished he was that water droplet. 

It took him far too long to realize it was his turn to speak. “Oh. Er. Yeah, I–that makes sense,” he nodded awkwardly. 

Remus, however, was staring at him with the same expression he sometimes used when solving a particularly difficult homework problem. “Are you alright, Pads?”

“Fine!” Sirius nearly-shouted, trying to go for a casual tone and failing miserably. Fuck, this stupid crush on Remus was getting worse. Weren’t things like this supposed to pass? Usually his feelings were as fleeting as the seasons but for some reason, with every passing day, the yearning in Sirius’s chest only grew stronger. He took a stumbling step back toward the door and nearly slipped. “I’m fine, I just-”

Remus just tilted his head, the air growing even hotter than it was before. “Maybe you should join. You seem stressed.”

“But then we’d be naked. In the water. Together,” Sirius said, the opposite of smooth.

The taller boy nodded. “That’s usually how that works. Is that a problem?”

“Fuck, no,” Sirius responded before he could stop himself.

Remus just grinned. “Come on in, then.”

Sirius had never moved faster.

[luvie-42]

Nerd!Choso who always gives you those annoying puppy eyes of his when you tease and bully him

Nerd!Choso who is surprised when you force him to do your homework in turn for a reward…

Nerd!Choso who gladly comes in your dorm at midnight

Nerd!Choso who can’t help but get hard when he sees you in nothing but an oversized shirt and lacy pink panties

Nerd!Choso who blushes furiously when you push him on your bed and sit on him

Nerd!Choso who desperately takes off your panties and asks where to start

Nerd!Choso who gives kitten licks to your pussy which slowly turns into sloppy strokes

Nerd!Choso who whimpers when you bounce on his throbbing dick

Nerd!Choso who cums faster than you expect from how good your tight pussy feels clenching around his length

Nerd!Choso who begs for you to let him cum after you punish him for cumming early

Nerd!Choso who can’t even speak after he finally releases after what felt like an eternity

Nerd!Choso who promises to do all of your homework if he can get that again

[leclercstars]

save a horse.

dodge mason x reader

Summary: You're annoyed about getting paired with Dodge for a group project. He's quiet, cold, and you find nothing about him appealing (at least, that's what you're telling yourself.) Things start to take a turn when you end up having to work on the project in his bedroom, and suddenly, Dodge becomes the teacher.

Warnings: SMUT! 18+! protected sex, slight daddy kink, dom!dodge, nipple play

author's note: you all asked and you shall receive! god i love dodge mason (and you should too.)

“And you’ll be with Dodge Mason” the professor said when she got to your name on the class list. You thought you would be able to avoid group projects in community college, but apparently not. Dodge didn’t even shoot you a glance when the professor announced you as partners, so things were surely off to a great start.

He always sat in the very back, head low, kept to himself. He never raised his hand to answer a question or chime in on a discussion, and he always hurried out as soon as the professor dismissed class. You had seen him out at parties on occasion, chatting to one or two other guys in the corner. He looked good at parties, blue jeans and a tight t-shirt was a good uniform for him, especially when he added a cowboy hat. But his mysteriousness was unappealing, you found the whole “brooding cowboy” thing to be more cold and standoffish than sexy.

“Dodge! Dodge!” you chased him out of the classroom. You caught up with him and his expression hardly changed when he saw you. “What time should we meet to work on this?”

“8pm tonight sound fine?” he scrawled his address out on a piece of notebook paper and handed it to you.

“Sure! See ya then!” your cheeriness did not impact his mood, and you scoffed as you headed back to your car.

You did not find Dodge Mason appealing at all, but you found yourself standing in front of your mirror at 7:30 p.m. making sure that your outfit looked good. Your skirt was short, your shirt was tight. Why were you doing this? You kept trying to convince yourself you saw nothing in him, but your mind kept flashing back to the way his arms looked in those t-shirts that fit him so right. You threw on a hoodie so you at least seemed a little more casual.

He answered the door as soon as you knocked, and you walked in to quite a few folks in the dining room.

“Sorry, my sister has friends over. We’ll have to work in my room,” Dodge said as he led you down the hallway.

Why was your heart beating faster? You were just going in there to work, and it's only because you can’t go anywhere else.

His room was just as you expected it to be. Gray walls, navy bed sheets, decorated with rodeo trophies and a couple vintage cigarette ads.

“Neat room,” you said, even though it was boring as hell.

“Thanks.” he sat on one edge of the bed and you sat on the other, it felt like there was miles of distance between you- both physically and mentally at this point. Your legs were crossed tight, as you realized maybe wearing a skirt was not the best outfit choice for doing homework on a bed. The two of you got to work, talking about nothing except the work at hand. You were getting so bored, and your mind started to wander. His concentrated face was unfortunately very attractive, as he bit his lip looking down at the paper. His hands were huge, made evident by how small the pencil looked in them. His t-shirt was once again, tight. Hugging every muscle in his arm. You couldn’t stand it anymore. You took off your hoodie, revealing the crop-top you had on.

“Sorry, all this writing and concentrating is making me hot,” you laughed sheepishly.

“No problem.” Dodge replied plainly, although you couldn’t help but notice the way his eyes suddenly scanned your body. He wasn’t even trying to hide it, as they lingered on the curve of your hips and the peaks of your tits, visible over the neckline of your shirt. Your face was getting warmer than the sun.

“I need a break, why don’t you tell me about these trophies?” you shot up and stood by his dresser, desperate to form some sort of connection with this man.

“Alright,” he stayed on the bed. He began explaining each one in pretty great detail. If you couldn’t physically get close to him, at least this was helping you get to know him better. There was a big one from when he was kid that had a particularly funny story to go along with it, and you held the shiny gold cup, facing away from the bed. You didn’t notice the way he slowly got up, coming up behind you and sneaking his hands around your waist. Your breath hitched, the smell of his musky cologne apparent as his neck was mere inches from your face. He turned you around to face him, fingertips never leaving the exposed skin between your shirt and skirt.

You stared up at him, eyes dark and low. It wasn’t his usual uninterested stare. No, this was lust, a throbbing, aching lust. God, he was so tall. You nearly had to tilt your head all the way back to even make eye contact. He cupped your face with both hands and pulled you in, kissing you in a way that you had never been kissed before. It was as if his lips were a key and yours were the lock, they fit perfectly together. His tongue found its way down your throat as his hands started to gently roam, tracing every curve and pausing as he found your ass under the skirt. He cupped your ass and squeezed, hard, earning a moan from you into his mouth. You could feel him smile against your lips as he squeezed again, making you press your body into his. Fuck, his abs were so tight and so defined you could feel them through the fabric. You looked up at him again with pleading eyes and he smirked before leaning right next to your ear.

“You wanna learn how to ride?” he whispered. You knew he was cracking a joke but god it felt so serious in that moment.

“Yes daddy.” you groaned back. Woah. He had never asked you to call him that, and you were not the type to just bust that word out usually.

“Fucking christ I need you so bad,” he hoisted you up and you instinctively wrapped your legs around him as he carried you to the bed. So “daddy” was well received. He flung all the notebooks and paper to the ground with one swipe of his arm. He was holding you up with one arm, giving you a chance to realize how strong he truly was. He tossed you down on the bed, rough but making sure he didn’t hurt you. His shirt came off almost immediately, and you happily helped him undo his belt buckle so you could see more of him. His cock was already throbbing through his boxers, just coaxing you to sit on it. He had already pulled your shirt and skirt off, and expertly unhooked your bra, tossing it to the side and taking a moment as you laid there in nothing but a lacy thong.

“Goddamn,” he sighed, grazing his thumbs over your nipples, teasing you and only making you want his cock more. He started applying more pressure, doing gentle circles with his thumbs and pressing his erection between your legs. Your moans were soft as you bucked your hips into him with progressively more force.

“Easy,” he firmly placed his hands on your hips, steadying them and pressing them back down into the mattress. “That’s no way for a good girl like you to behave.”

Suddenly it was Niagara Falls between your thighs.

He kept playing with your nipples, pinching and twisting and flicking, seeing how good it clearly made you feel. He wrapped his hands around your back and flipped you on top of him, quickly pulling down his boxers and exposing his cock, already slick with pre-cum. He reached into his bedside drawer and pulled out a condom, looking at you as you straddled him.

“You ready baby?” he nearly cooed. You nodded and started to lift yourself up over him, but he decided to take control. His rough hands were planted firmly on the sides of your supple hips, guiding you onto his length. You were soaking wet, but he was so fucking big you could still only take half at once without flinching. He held you steady, waiting for you to get used to the feeling of him inside you. You both had locked eyes the moment he grabbed your hips, and neither had dared to look away, drinking in, being intoxicated by every emotion that crossed the other’s face. He slowly moved you down until you were fully sitting on his cock, gasping as the last inch pushed into your walls. Your hands were on his chest as you leaned forward, eyes now shut as you felt how close the two of you had become. Two hours ago he would barely say a word to you, now he was literally inside of you. He started rocking you back and forth, controlling your hips and making you feel so fucking good. Your clit rubbed against his abs as you rode, sparks zapping across your body every time he moved you in just the right way.

You were on top, but Dodge was fully in control. You were completely submitting to his touch, letting his hands do all the work. His body was doing all the talking he hadn’t done earlier, as he purposely thrust his abs up, knowing that was getting you closer and closer to the finish. You were starting to lose it, made completely stupid by how good his cock felt inside you.

“Fuck Dodge-daddy, fuck,” you were so so close, you could feel the orgasm starting to bubble up in your stomach.

Right as you were about to climax, Dodge sat up and leaned in.

“Cum for me good girl,” the thickness of his voice was enough to send you over the edge as you cried out, breaking free of his hands and grinding on him.

“Oh fuck me,” his head rolled back and the feeling of your pussy clenching around his dick was enough to finish him off, pulsating against your walls.

You slid yourself off him and collapsed onto his pillows, resting your head in the crook of his arm.

He started playing with your hair and the two of you just laid in silence, basking in the bliss of the sex you just had.

That was certainly one ride you never wanted to get off.

dividers by @.cafekitsune

[prettiest-thing-in-the-morgue]

ᴼᴺᴱ ᴼᶠ ᵀᴴᴱ ᴳᴵᴿᴸˢ

✐ an au where the reader is the favorite person in batfam because THEY DESERVE TO BE THE FAVORITE

one of the girls

(by the weeknd)

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0:00 ●───────────4:51

.　 *　.　　　　. 　 ° 　. ● ° . ¸ .　　★　° :.　 . • ° 　 .　 *　:.　☆

- reader is an average person - literally, they're not a vigilante by choice, of course, though even though they don't take part in the vigilante life, it doesn't mean they don't help.

- reader is such a life saviour, especially after a particularly grueling patrol always coming in clutch with hot chocolate they made for everyone in cute matching hello kitty cups because they're girlie pop .

- reader always helps patches everyone up - giving everyone deserved head pats, especially to poor dick because he always goes too hard on himself .

- despite not being a vigilante - reader knows about who they are and what they do - kinda hard not too when Jason is crashing in the loving room couch with a black eye.

- despite having not being as tech savvy as Barbra and Tim , the reader always sits with them - always engaging them in the latest gossip, which helps time pass by faster !

-every morning, Cas and readers literally does hot girl yoga sessions in Cas' rooms because why not ? And of course, they're both giggling about how last night on patrol Damian totally didn't slip and fall when he grappled onto a rooftop.

- every morning before they get ready for school , all the girls are huddled in Stephanie's room, and they're all picking out what matching sweaters they're all repping to school and they're doing each other's eyeliner while Chappel Ronan is blasting in the background <3.

- During lunch , Tim and the reader and a couple of other friends are gathered around a lunch table playing uno - Tim literally always changing up the rules when he's losing which earns a playful smack from reader lol.

- after school , Damian and the reader both at the park playing with Titus in the park and feeding the nearby ducks in the pond . One time Reader fell in the pond and Damian couldn't stop laughing at them for a whole week.

- Jason and reader are always trying to one up each other on who can run up the stairs faster ( fun fact it's neither of them it's actually Alfred ) and they're both always grumpy when he beats them both because wdym an old man is faster than them -.

- reader and Duke always do homework together every night - both literally confused - literally the blind leading the blind because neither of them understands what their homework requires of them.

- dick and reader ends off the night by watching a random series like love island together and both gets way too political on who should end up with who and if either watches an episode without the other ITS BETRAYAL .

- reader and Bruce unironically text and communicate with each other in cringey memes, which only they find funny at this point -

- reader who helps Alfred with menial chores because they wanna spend time with him and plus Alfred is always spilling tea about his missions back in the day like wdym Alfred flirted with the Queen of England once -

- so all in all, despite not being a vigilante , reader is integrated in batfam's life so much so their literally dubbed the favorite sibling .

- like the one day reader spent the day with a friend's, Damian, Duke, Cas and Tim showed up and crashed it because they missed them so much . Reader had 12 missed calls from Bruce , 50+ messages rom Dick accusing them of not loving him because they abandoned him , a video sent from Jason of him eating reader's hidden stash of sweets and a message from steph saying she's stealing reader's hair curler .

- Alfred literally brags about reader like their the only grandchild he has 😭😭.

Overall, chaotic family shenanigans and overall batfam loves reader too much .