#and I’m thinking about one of my students

[luveline]

Hi Jade! Can I request Spencer and Nurse!reader? Maybe they meet when he’s wounded/she’s patching him up?

(Yes I’m a nursing student I promise we aren’t all mean girls 😔)

ty for requesting!! ik ur not all mean of course!!<3 —you meet the cutest FBI agent ever and tend his wounds. fem, 1.5k

One of the small pleasures of your job is when the patients are cute. Not many people come through as handsome as this one. You’re professional nonetheless. 

“What am I seeing you for today?” you ask, holding your hands behind your back. 

Your patient, charted as a Dr. Spencer Walter Reid, twenty nine years old, gives you a tentative smile. “Someone hit me really hard.” 

You can see the bruise forming against his temple. “Yes, I’d say so. Did you know the assailant?” 

“No, but it’s handled.” His smile turns to a grimace. “Uh, I get these, like, debilitating migraines, and I feel like I have one coming on.”

“A head injury could trigger that,” you agree, holding your hands out in front of you, little torch in hand. “Can I have a look?” you ask softly. 

When you’ve been a nurse for some time, you start to categorise people into boxes. All kinds of boxes for different things, but Spencer Reid gets a tick for a few things straight away: shy, pretty, and sensitive to touch. He must not get touched much, or he’s had a bad experience with strangers. He did just get hit in the head, you allow, brushing a sweet, mousy curl away from his head and holding it out of the way as you shine a light into each of his eyes. He flinches hard, but his pupils react as expected. 

Whoever hit him managed to break the skin, upon closer infection of the injury. The skin has turned purple at the edges of his cut. It’ll be a big bruise in just a few hours. 

“Spencer, please tell me if I hurt you, honey,” you say, voice still soft. If he’s got a migraine coming, he won’t want your usual overloud distinction. 

“It’s okay. It hurts, but not more or less when you poke it.” 

“You have a laceration, yeah? It’s about three centimetres long, but deep. I can close it with a butterfly stitch, if you’re okay with that.” 

“Yeah, please. Um, about the migraine–”

“Do you want a tramadol, honey? I think you deserve one.” 

“I can’t have narcotics.” 

You pull back and straighten the hair you’d displaced. “That’s okay, it just means you can’t have the strongest stuff. Most people try to avoid them anyhow. How about tylenol, would that be alright? Or do you avoid painkillers in general?” 

“Tylenol is fine as long as it doesn’t have the codeine with it.” 

You give him a gentle nod. “I’ll make sure it’s the right one. You can even see the bottle, if you like. Would you want them before or after the stitch?” He probably knows, but you add, “It’s not a real stitch. But it might feel tender when I’m poking around.” 

“Anything. Whatever you want to do first.” 

His eyes squeeze closed. You give him a frown he can’t see, and rest your hand on his arm. “Is there someone here with you?” you ask him.

“My friend is coming, I think. There was a lot going on.” 

“That’s okay. I’m not sending you home until I’ve fixed you, Dr. Reid.” 

He smiles, even with his eyes closed, but doesn’t say anything more. You wash your hands and find your bandages. A butterfly bandage, a sterile wipe, and a square piece of gauze to cover it cleanly. His eyes are opening again when you return, ushering him gently down the bed so you can sit on his right side near the injury. 

“What do you do for work?” you ask him. 

“I work for the FBI.” 

“You do?” You tear open the sterile wipe and again pull the curls from his forehead. “This might sting. Please tell me if it hurts too much.” 

“It’s not the cut that hurts.” 

“I’m sorry,” you say sympathetically. Migraines are a tricky business. If he’s already having one, you probably can’t do much to get rid of it, but that doesn’t mean pain relief won’t help. “I’ll do this as quickly as I can.” 

He’s quiet. You wipe around the laceration with careful, concise movements. The cut looks clean enough when you’re done, and it’s so small you won’t irrigate it. 

“Are you an agent?” you ask. 

“Yeah. Special supervisory with the BAU. The, uh, behavioural analysis unit.” 

“Oh, I know,” you say, putting the wrapping and the dirtied wipe into your cardboard bowl. “I think I’ve seen it on TV sometimes, you guys can track the serial killers and stuff?” 

“Mostly that, yeah. Uh, sometimes we find trafficking rings or missing kids. Sometimes we manage hostage situations. It depends on the level of the crisis.” 

“So you’re the big gun.” 

“I guess so. I’m not actually good with a gun.” 

“No one has to be good with a gun to change the world.” You pull the butterfly stitch from the packaging and pick at a finicky end. “I hate guns.” 

He sighs. “I do, too.” 

“They make my job hard. It’s not nice, seeing what they can do to people. It’s awful, really. Spencer, I’m so sorry, honey, I’m just gonna put this on here, it might feel uncomfortable as I pull the sides together.” 

“It’s okay.” 

You pull the plastic of the butterfly stitch on both sides, cinching his cut together promptly. It looks better now you can’t see the inside. 

“I’m gonna cover this with the dressing now. You don’t have to keep it on if you don’t want to, it’s a pretty small cut, it was just deep. I’d recommend you try to keep it dry for two days, really, you should keep it covered, but it’s up to you. And if anything happens, if it gets infected, you can always come see me again.” 

You’re mildly flirting, then. Just because he’s nice and shy. It might be a little cruel of you to proposition a man when he’s roughed up, though. 

Spencer, luckily, understands that you’re not trying to harass him. “Thank you.” 

You stand, peeling the plastic from the bandaid and exposing the sticky backing. Slowly, you stroke his hair back from the wound and line the bandaid up. He shivers under your nails. 

“So sorry,” you say, laughing under your breath, “it’s my nails, huh?” 

“It’s okay.” 

“You’re a great patient, Spencer. I’d give you a sticker if I could, I’m not kidding.” 

“You’re a great nurse.” 

“Thank you.” You smooth the edges of the bandaid down for good measure and step away from him to assess him. “How’s that migraine?” 

“Getting worse.” 

“You have them often, you said? Treated or untreated?” 

“Psychosomatic, apparently.” 

“Oh, honey, I’m sorry. Has your doctor talked to you about CBT?” 

“Some. I don’t really… want it,” he says awkwardly. 

“That’s okay. If it’s psychosomatic as they believe, it might get better with time. How’s the stress in your life?”

“Stressful.” 

“It must be hard, the FBI, everything. Life is hard enough. Stopping serial killers must weigh on your heart.” You smile carefully. “Was there anything else you wanted to bring to my attention? Any other injury, anything that needs urgent care?” 

“I was mostly worried I had a concussion.” 

“It doesn’t seem like it. You’re not nauseous, are you?” 

“No, I don’t think so.” 

He gets this awful, sad look on his face, it really isn’t nice to see. People come in by themselves all the time but it never gets easier to handle. 

“Are you alright?” you ask, taking his arm into your hand. 

“I’m fine.” 

He had the look of someone who’s always fine. Luckily for him, it’s your job to take care of people, to make sure they’re more than fine. “Okay. I’m gonna get you something warm to drink. Do you like donuts?” 

“Uh–”

“I’m getting a feeling about you. Chocolate frosting, I bet.” 

He smiles, startled and pleased at once. “Yeah.” 

“Okay, I’m gonna get those for you. A drink, a donut, and some much needed Tylenol. You can lay down if you like.” 

He nods but doesn’t move. 

As you’re leaving the room, you cross paths with a handsome man with dark skin and a bright smile. Must be something in the air today, you think. 

“Reid, you okay?” you hear him say. 

“Fine.” 

“You’re pink.” 

“What?” 

“You’re blushing. Oh, you had the pretty nurse, didn’t you?” 

“Shut up,” Spencer whispers sharply. 

“You can ask for her number.” 

“No I can’t, she’s working.” 

“But you want to,” his friend surmises. 

You bite down a smile, giving your head a shake as you go. You need to get a move on. Spencer needs a hot drink, a donut, Tylenol, and a pen. It should be okay if you’re both feeling up to it, right?

[freepsychicbiscuitfire]

To me a thorough syllabus shows how seriously a professor takes a class. If they don’t have one that is very thorough I’m expecting that they are gonna be okay with people turning in things late and generally will be slacking on the lectures.

I know we complain a lot about students not taking classes seriously but like you need to too! No just because I “pay” your salary does not mean you need to accept my late work or not grade me appropriately but you should expect that first week of classes I am judging first impressions and if I think you can do your job well. If not then why am wasting my time and money in your class? A syllabus is one of the easiest ways to show how you operate and how much effort you’re putting into the class-it’s like a resume for students.

Sometimes college professors like to hop on my posts lamenting the sorry state of syllabi these days and joke about how they haven't thought that far ahead in the course themselves, or talk about how they struggle to complete a schedule for their students.

With all due respect, that's your job. If you can't do your job, you should have a different job. If you need help, ask your colleagues or your department chair or *someone* because I know that professors aren't given a hell of a lot of education on how to educate, so you probably *need* help.

But every single time I make one of those posts I get anywhere from ten to thirty messages, replies, reblogs, and asks say "oh man, that's exactly why I had to drop out of school; I couldn't keep up with the assignments because I didn't know when they were due until the week they were due."

I have been a college student in three separate decades, and "not having a schedule of assignments in the syllabus" is new to my experience. That shit didn't fly in the 2000s or 2010s and I think it likely has to do with professors being overly reliant on apps.

AT A MINIMUM your syllabus should have:

Contact information (including preferred method of contact) for the professor

Office Hours

Grading Policy

Assignment schedule.

Your assignment schedule doesn't necessarily need to have the exact page numbers of every reading or a full assignment sheet for each project, but it should have things like:

December 1st - Major Project 3 second draft due December 9th - Quiz 10 December 12th - Major Project 3 final draft due December 15th - Final Exam

If you end up presenting a more thorough schedule with readings and homework later, that is acceptable to present a week or two into the semester but it is absolutely insane to me that students these days don't know what homework they're going to have to get done over Thanksgiving break during the first couple weeks of class.

If I had three professors at once who didn't give me a schedule, how on earth would I know if I was going to have to read three chapters of a novel, take a midterm and turn in two stats homework assignments, and complete a history research paper the same week that I'm planning to travel to see family? If I'm aware of this from the beginning of the semester I can make sure not to pick up extra shifts, or I can plan to leave a day later to accommodate the midterm, or I can start working on the paper early to complete it before the due date but if I don't know what's going to be due when, I'm going to have a big problem.

If you don't give your students a schedule you are communicating that you don't care about their schedule, and that you think it's their responsibility to contort their life (and their job, and their other classes) around your class, and honestly my advice to students in that situation is "drop in the first week and pick up another class". That's actually part of why I recommend signing up for one more class than you can really manage - if you get a professor whose class looks like it's going to be a disaster because they don't have a schedule, you can bail before the withdrawal period and get a refund for the class.

I'm only in one class this semester but the professor's response has fully dropped me into "Fuck it, I guess I'll fail" mode and I don't even know if I can pull myself out of my current D grade because I don't know how many assignments we have left in the semester.

This is a shitty way to run a class. If you can't do better than this, you shouldn't be running a class.

[planetpedri]

All in good time, — Franco Colapinto.

Pairing: Franco Colapinto x Fem!Reader

Summary: When a college student meets her polar opposite in Franco Colapinto, she instantly disliked him. But, Franco was enamored with her and he would get her to like him, all in good time.

Word count: 1.65k+

Disclaimer/s: this is a hockey!au

A/N: this is for @purinfelix and jet only! though i love each and every one of you who choses to read it.. this was. this was ass girl shit i’m sorry i didn’t know where i was going toward the end… i may do another hockey player!franco fic tho but its going to be far more centered around the actual hockey

Franco Colapinto was a force to be reckoned with. Somehow, you’d gotten tangled into his life. When your dorm was being renovated and you needed a place to stay, your roommate suggested her friend’s house—that friend being Franco. A notorious hockey player for the Golden Knights.

He was, in simple terms, agitating. Your two and a half weeks staying in his basement was something close to hell on earth. He held parties, big ones! Ones that interrupted your studying, which he’d half ass apologize for the next morning while nursing a raging hangover, right before asking you to make your signature hangover recipe while he showered.

That was your payment for staying there. You nursed his hangovers and helped him come up with various excuses as to why he was late to practice, even going as far as to go out of your way to tell his coach you’d gotten terribly sick and he had to bring you to the hospital.

Two pea’s in a lying pod. That’s what you were.

In the first week, he’d convinced you to go to the rink to help him practice. You—only ever using figure skates—had a difficult time keeping up with him. You nearly broke a tailbone trying to catch up with him.

Franco held a lopsided grin when he stopped, ice shavings flying as he turned to face you. Though, you saw the concern flash across his face as he skated back in your direction, leaning down to help you up.

“I need an ice pack—“ Your lips formed a thin line, “actually, I need wine and an excuse to get out of this hell.”

The curly haired man laughed, pulling your hand over his shoulder as his free arm looped around your waist. Holding you up, he assisted you back to the bench, setting you down carefully.

Once you shifted to get comfortable, wincing in pain, you untie the laces on your skates. “How do you do this for a living? I’m fucking miserable and we’ve done this once.”

Franco shrugs, leaning his head against the tempered glass that separated the rink from the benches. “Maybe I will just have to put you to work.” His lips threaten a smirk, “if it helps, I do prefer practicing with you than my teammates.”

That wasn’t even particularly a lie. He tried to find ways to get to know you, but you were a tough nut to crack. He tried so hard to find ways to get in your good graces, and forcing you to hang out with him was the only way he could get you to spend quality time with him.

His flirting was what annoyed you the most. You couldn’t stand it, only because it made a weird feeling erupt in your stomach. “First of all, don’t let them hear that. Second of all, I will never do this again. Ever.”

Franco was a convincer. He was good at getting people to do things, and you were unfortunately, not exempt from that. Even when you were back in your dorms, he’d convinced you to join him at the rinks.

You rarely ever practiced with him, simply opting to watch from the stands. You hated to admit it, but you’d grown to enjoy the time spent with him. When he took breaks, he’d explain the rules to you, different tactics they used, various things.

When you’d get so engrossed in conversation, he’d slip in a question about you, that you’d answer without thinking. He was good at getting to know people, but you were a difficult case. He’d found a way eventually, only getting you to talk about yourself when you were so distracted you couldn’t think long enough to stop it.

“Hockey pucks are actually frozen before games to make them move faster and glide smoothly on the ice, so they don’t bounce a lot.” Franco was rambling about different facts, waiting for the perfect opportunity to slip in a question he’d been waiting to ask for weeks.

“Seriously? So they don’t just stay rubbery and lukewarm?” The last part was only slightly sarcastic, but the fact had actually surprised you.

“So.. are you seeing anyone?”

“No.” You pause, wait—what? You don’t get an opportunity to ask any further questions because he was already onto the next fact. “Franco!” You snap, interjecting his next rant.

Francos eyebrows raise slightly, “yeah?”

You narrow your eyes, licking your lips. “You just asked if I was seeing someone. Then—you know what. That doesn’t matter, what does though, is that you just slipped in a question that was not like the others you’ve slipped in.” His face contorts and you laugh, “i’m going to law school, I notice tactics like that.”

The hockey players mouth quirks, he wasn’t even slightly ashamed. “Oh, I love how smart you are.” He hums, “I was just curious. If you were, thank the lord you aren’t, but, he wouldn’t like you hanging out with me.”

“Thank the lord? Seriously?” Your eyes roll dramatically. The wooden bench beneath you feels stiff and uncomfortable the more he watched you with his stupidly smug face.

Franco nods, “hey—“ He begins untying his laces, “you should come to my game tomorrow. You haven’t come in a while.”

The topic switch was noticeable, but you ignore it. “I have a lecture late tomorrow. I’ll probably be tired.” But when Franco’s face changes into that familiar doe-eyed expression, you cave. “Fine! I’ll come! Quit looking at me like that.”

“I’m not looking at you like anything.”

“Yes you are”

“No i’m not.”

“Are too!”

“Let me take you to dinner.”

“Are—what?” Your brain stops working, words failing your tongue. Excuse you? “Wait a fucking minute—“

Franco watches you carefully. “Is that a no?”

“No! I mean—“ You were still a stumbling mess. Your mouth opening and clamping shut. “It’s a-well, I mean, It’s a yes! Yes, I will! Jesus, Franco. You couldn’t have asked any smoother?”

He’s smiling, finding your stammering all too amusing… and adorable. It was very cute. “It felt fitting to me.” He shrugs casually, slipping off his skates. “After the game and a shower, the diner you like a few blocks from your dorm?”

That was most definitely something he learned during his not-so-secret questionnaires.

“That sounds perfect.” You huff, “now, can you bring me home? I think i’m developing hypothermia.”

After changing into his regular shoes, he stands, offering you his hand. You take it, though it was with an eye roll. Franco smirks at your reaction, not commenting on it as he helps you to your feet.

“Does your body not ache every time you finish?” You ask as the two of you exit the arena, making your way through the dark parking lot.

You regretted your choice of words the second they left your lips. “Don’t even—“

“I have incredible stamina, actually.” Franco cheeses, slinging his arm around you. You allow it, even leaning into his side.

“You are insufferable.” You scoff, but the twitch of your lips betrayed your feigned annoyance.

The laugh that emits from Francos mouth has a smile growing on your lips, it was a sound you’d grown to enjoy.

Franco opens the passenger door for you, which had you suppressing a smile. It was a gesture he made every trip to the arena, in fact—Franco was very much a gentleman, despite boy boyish he could be.

Only when he was the drivers seat with the engine going and heater ablaze, does Franco finally grow serious. “Are you sure you want to do this? I don’t want to make you feel like you have to, I know you’re sort of a people pleaser.”

Okay, ouch?

Franco’s eyes widen, “I didn’t mean it like that!” He says quickly, stumbling for a way to fix what he said.

You’d never seen Franco have to search for words to say. He was always so smooth and, well, he was never one to falter.

“I know what you meant, and you’re right. But, when have I ever gone out of my way to people please you.” You reassure him, a gentle look on your face. “I want this.”

The rest was history. You want Franco had been going steady for months. Whenever you had enough time in your busy college schedule, you went to his games, you were his number one cheerleader and support system.

Hockey had easily become your favorite sport, you knew everything about it due to Franco’s inability to ever stop talking. Thats probably what made the two of you such a perfect pair. You were quiet, he wasn’t. He was your polar opposite, the yin to your yang. And thats what made it work.

When you didn’t want to talk, he wasn’t there to fill the silence. When he didn’t want to talk, you enjoyed each other’s silence.

You had never thought in a million years, the man who annoyed you oh so much, was the same man you would grow to love.

likes , comments , and reblog’s are all appreciated. lmk if you’d like to be tagged in future franco posts.

ᝰ.ᐟ tags @halfwayhearted @purinfelix @sakashq @hrts4havertz @spidybaby

[sparrowlucero]

i enjoy ur bird abode thoughts! I was a genuine enjoyer of the show when it was airing, I’m no die hard fan though and love to see ppls personal takes on the overall story/plot. Im curious if you also would agree or have any thoughts on the impacts The Mouse’s cancellation had on the shows ability to be more than it was? srry im not super eloquent with my words, but basically ur response to that ask got me wondering if part of the reason the show like genuinely wasnt all that ground breaking or unique in the end plot wise (other than the villain faces consequences in the end ig) as far as YA/Teen animation goes, was because of The Mouse’s inability to let the writers flesh out the show before gutting it? i have a negative bias toward The Mouse franchise and obviously dont know anything about how writing a show under the eyes of a franchise that big would work, its just smth that rattles around in my head and wanna know what u think!

Well to an extent, but I think it's much more the effect the studio had on how the owl house started out as rather than it not getting a full season at the end - It didn't escape my noticed that the show was initially announced as being a "horror comedy" when it doesn't really seem like either, especially by the second season, and yeah, the original pitch bible is obviously aiming for that much more than the show proper is as it goes along (and is honestly seems quite a bit more funny, weird, and dark, with an overarching plotline about a giant bug being used to religiously suppress people, eda able to cure her curse by killing luz, and one of the major characters being a teen boy awoken from a sleeping curse who ends up being a weird little bigot because he's from the 13th century, among other things)

(side note, i just noticed they actually specifically describe the thing i assumed the show was gonna be about here. huh.) but ultimately the bulk of the show that was actually made seems very influenced by a writing team that was genuinely interested in making a tropey YA fantasy story rather than just being mandated to. I mean even in what aired you can see the show sort of settle in ways that feel less like studio interference and more like, you know, art students creating their ideal fantasy show, like how King is clearly Eda's roommate who's funny because he looks like and sounds like a little dog despite being an adult man at the beginning but by the end they've made him her adopted sad backstory son who's explicitly a child. While I think a third season would have made the show as it existed better, because they clearly didn't get to finish the plot they wanted to (frankly to the point where some major aspects of the show are a bit confusing, I'm still not sure what a grimwalker is), I don't really fault the show for that but also don't think that hypothetical season (which pretty clearly would have been mostly about the magic school teens going to normal school) would suddenly flip around into something that I personally found interesting and subversive. Nor should it, really; again, it being Queernorm Harry Potter thing is clearly the intended appeal of the show, it's not really a flaw but just not a genre I'm personally interested in when compared to what I initially expected the show to be.

HOWEVER I will say they robbed little weird girls of their representation and that can't be forgiven

[wonsroyalty]

predictable, 박종성

pairing/warnings - 2.3k,, spider-man!jay x f!reader, college/uni students, switch!jay x switch!f reader,, smut, blood, wounding 🔥

a/n: no fancy theme because i’m writing this on a whim: inspired by this tiktok i saw earlier, no doubt mv has actually changed me and i loveeeeee jay so enjoy🤗

masterlist

You sat in your bedroom tapping your pen unconsciously at your desk.

“I need the report in for tomorrow, Yn. You’ve already had a week.”… You remembered the head of the school newsletter scolding you earlier.

How on earth did she think that you could gain access to the football team in order to ask them about their frat lifestyle AND write up everything from your seven-hour interview as a small section in such a short amount of time.

You thought back to your best friend Jay.

He’d always had a way with words and you knew that if he were with you he’d say something like, “Sunghoon said he’s ditching his playboy rep to focus on himself, weirdo because he literally threw himself at you during this interview, you can simplify it to ‘I’m a lame loser who doesn’t get any hoes because I fucked around and found out’, done!”

A giggle slipped from your lips at the thought of imaginary Jay but you quickly gained composure because the thought of having to pull an all nighter, in order to finish, didn’t seem appealing.

And the fact that Jay had turned down your plan of him helping you because he claimed he had “important business” whipped you into shape.

Ding!

7 messages from mother🐻

hey pumpkin!

i may be later than usual tonight

just been told to prep for emergency surgery

left your dinner in the oven to heat up

first aid kit above the front cabinet

don’t hurt yourself pls!!!

love you bye 🥰

You reacted with a heart and wished her luck then threw your phone onto your bed.

The upper half of your body slumped onto the desk.

“I’m so screwed.” you whispered in defeat.

Your phone then began to ring causing a loud groan to leave your throat as your body lugged itself to the source.

“Hey Jay, what’s up?” you sighed. “What do you want?”

“Open your window.” he panted out.

You could hear sirens in the background and Jay didn’t sound too good.

“Whats happening right now? Are you okay?”

“Open the window, please.” he begged. “Trust me, just open it!”

“I don’t trust you.” You joked. “Besides which one would I open, there’s three.”

Jay started shouting at someone on the other end of the line.

“Fuck!” he groaned in agony. “The- the one facing central park.”

“Uh.. okay. I just did it.”

“Step back! Like backkkk.” he warned.

“Moving back as I speak.” you sighed. “Is this the super important thing you had to do?”

You had spoken too soon.

A man precisely shot his body through the gap of your window then slammed it shut behind him and slumped onto the ground.

“Spider-man?! What the..” you stepped towards him tentatively. “Are you- wait Jay! Oh my, I think he’s hurt.”

You began to type out a message to the boy when Spider-man ripped his mask off.

“Jay Park?! You have got to be shitting me!” you gaped. “What the fuck?!”

Jay winced in pain as he shot a web at your jumper to pull you down towards him.

He’d pulled you off balance and while your legs straddled his hips, your hands fell onto the gaping wound in his abdomen.

“Stay down.” he whined. “Can’t let them see.”

“Them..?” you mouthed.

“I was in the middle of a fight.” he rolled his eyes. “Obviously.”

“We’re gonna talk about this later, I need to close that up.” you glared at him.

His head hit the wall behind him as he began to register the state he was in.

You crawled out of the room and ran over to the cabinet that your mother left the first aid in. Nimble fingers turning the oven and a timer on your way out so that Jay would have something to eat before he left.

If any other friend of yours were in this situation, you would’ve patched them up, scolded them and sent them on their way.

But with Jay, you always wanted to keep him around because you… liked him.

You had to stop yourself from checking him out when you got back to your room, he’d pulled his suit down to his hips, toned stomach on display.

“You sure you know what you’re doing..?” he frowned.

Instead of responding you shoved a piece of cloth into his mouth.

“Bite on it.”

Jay used his free hands to pull the cloth out. His hands reached into the box to grab a painkiller and swallow it dry.

“Ew.” you sneered. “I have water..”

He ignored you. “There’s nothing in the wound, I already checked.”

Taking alcohol, you cleaned the outside of the wound and prepped your synthetic polymer fibres.

As soon as the cool metal pierced Jay’s skin he began to squirm around.

His jaw flexed as he groaned out in pain.

“Please stop moving, Jay,” you begged. “It’s gonna hurt more if you keep moving.”

Despite your plea, he continued to twist and turn.

You groaned in frustration.

“Stop moving!”

The cloth was placed in his mouth again and you got up onto your knees to snatch the scarf that dangled off your bed frame.

Your hands grabbed his wrists and tied them behind his back, double knotting the scarf so that he wouldn’t move.

Jay thrashed around trying to rip out of the restraints.

“Okay, calm down, I’m starting again,”

You slowly but surely sutured the wound and wrapped his waist in a bandage.

Jay whimpered.

“Huh?” your head snapped up as you took the cloth out of his mouth.

Without missing a beat, he leaned forward and kissed you.

Your fingers automatically made their way into his hair as you licked along his bottom lip.

He opened his mouth and pressed his tongue flat against yours before fighting for dominance in your mouth.

You couldn’t get enough. Your lungs gasped for air as you continued to practically eat his face off.

Subconsciously you lowered your hips onto his, rolling to get friction from his semi hard on against your pulsing core.

“Fuck.” he whimpered. Again.

“Always whining,” you teased him. “Never thought you’d be such a bottom, Jongie.”

He ripped the scarf as he broke free from the restraints.

Now you were the one whining.

“All I did was rip the scarf and you’re already dripping into my lap, who’s the real bottom here?” he mocked you with a fake look of shock all over his face. “Always wanted to have you under me..”

His words had your hips rutting against his, pathetic moans leaving your throat.

“Do I even have to do anything or will you get off just like this?” he grinned, marking up your neck.

A faint beeping broke you out of your trance.

“AHHHH! THE OVEN!”

You got up immediately, ignoring the way your fuzzy cat pyjamas clung to your lower body, and ran to the kitchen.

Thankfully the food wasn’t burnt but you clutched your heart as Jay launched himself onto your waist.

“I meant to say thank you.” he whispered.

His fingers made their way to where you needed him most, circling your clit through the fabric.

“Yeah- right. You.. You’re welcome.” you moaned at the end of your sentence, the pressure building up.

“Is this okay..?” he asked.

“Yes.” you nodded.

Jay pulled away laughing at your protest.

“What do you want me to do?” he asked.

You kept your lips shut. There was no way in hell that you were gonna submit to him so easily.

“Come on, baby.” he stared down at you through half lidded eyes. “Tell me where you want me..”

You shook your head, stubbornness radiating off your body.

“Is it here?” Jay asked.

His fingers unbuttoned your shirt, gasping at your uncovered chest as he tugged at your nipples.

A loud whine left your lips.

“Sensitive.. I see.” he looked determined.

“I’m not.” you grumbled.

He grazed your left nipple with his teeth, fondling the other with his warm hand.

“Fuck.” you moaned as his wet tongue circled the sensitive spot.

“You’re not huh?” he shook his head at your lie.

“Jay please.” you whined, hips chasing his.

“Please what?” he leaned away.

You swallowed your pride for the sake of your pleasure.

“I need you.” you moaned. “Need your fingers inside me.”

Jay lowered his head as an overwhelming wave of pleasure hit his body. He always knew that he’d liked you, but those words sent him over the edge.

He needed to have you immediately.

“Say it again.” he growled.

Once his lust filled eyes made eye contact with yours, you clenched your legs together.

“I need you so bad, Jay.” you whined.

He manhandled your body onto the kitchen counter, ripping off your pyjama bottoms and underwear in one go.

His tongue licked a stripe up your dripping hole, collecting the slick that leaked out.

Jay closed his eyes, taking in the taste.

“You taste so fucking good.” he whined.

Without missing the chance to take advantage of his submissive state, you tugged at his hair.

“Fuck..” he moaned loudly.

“You’re so hot.” you whimpered.

Seeing him like this made you feel a certain way.

He eagerly embraced your clit with his tongue and shoved his fingers into your cunt. They scissored you open before curling into you at a rapid pace.

Your hips thrashed up, chasing your high, not even caring about the loud sounds leaving your mouth and lewd sounds coming from Jay.

“You close?” he asked between moans.

You nodded, unable to form proper sentences.

“You have to ask.” Jay firmly stood his ground.

“Jay, please. Please let me cum!” you pathetically begged.

“Okay, princess.” he nodded. “Come for me..”

The orgasm hit you like five trucks, it truly felt never ending as Jay helped you through it.

Once your body recovered, you jumped down onto shaky legs attacking Jay’s lips as you pushed him backwards.

He absentmindedly followed the direction, tripping backwards as his legs made contact with your bed.

“Close your eyes.”

Jay made himself comfortable, lying down with his eyes closed.

“Wait- what!” his eyes shot open.

You’d handcuffed him to the headboard.

“Now why do you have these..” he questioned.

“Was saving them for when you’d come around.” you whispered into his ear, sending shivers down his spine. “Now i’m gonna help you, with your little problem.”

You gestured to the way his cock painfully throbbed in the tight material of his suit.

“It’s not a little problem- Shit.”

He closed his eyes as you grabbed at his crotch.

You left kisses down his body, licking his abs before pulling the rest of his suit off.

His cock slapped up against his stomach causing him to moan loudly.

“How are you so wet..?” you questioned in awe, staring at him in disbelief.

“Stop staring at me..” he blushed.

“You weren’t lying about this not being a little problem.” you praised, licking a stripe along the underside. “You’re so big, so thick.”

Jay’s hips thrusted up, more precum leaking out.

“Please.. help me.” he cried.

“Don’t cry, baby,” you wiped away the tear that left his eye, babying him. “I’ll help you.”

Instead of sucking him off, you lowered your hips onto his dick.

Jay felt like he was going to explode.

“Fuck! You’re so tight,” he moaned.

The stretch had your eyes rolling back.

Hands falling onto his chest for support, you slowly found your own pace to bounce at.

“Please let me touch you..” he begged.

“No.” you scolded. “I’m going to go at my pace and you’re gonna get off this way.”

Tears were fully streaking down his face at this point.

His balls were heavy and tip throbbing, the sensation being too much for him to handle.

You continued to bounce on him, eyes closing at the pleasure of his thickness rubbing against your walls.

The moans leaving your throat increased in volume as slick gushed out of your pussy. The thought of using Jay had you excited.

Seeing you on top of him, using him for your own pleasure had Jay going insane.

He broke out of the handcuffs and flipped you onto your stomach.

“Fuck! Jay, right there!” you cried out in surprise.

His palms smacked at your ass, rapidly pushing you back onto his dick.

“Wait.. wait I wanna see your face when I cum.” he whined, flipping your body over.

Your legs rested on his shoulders as you cried at the newer, deeper angle.

His balls smacked against your ass as he slammed his hips against yours.

“Jay, I can’t,” you moaned.

“Yes you can.” he growled. “I’m so close.”

His hips began to falter before they stilled, shooting cum deep inside you.

You came right after him, his whines and moans setting you off.

Jay slumped onto your body, cradling your face with his hands.

“I like you so so much.” he confessed, kissing you sweetly.

“Well I think I’ve liked you for longer.” you laughed.

“If you say so.” he giggled, hugging your chest. “That was so good, I don’t think I’ll ever let you have anyone other than myself.”

“Same here.” you played with his hair. “WAIT FUCK MY PAPER!”

THE END.

~

bonus scene:

After getting cleaned up and eating (Jay forced you to) you sat on his lap at your desk, typing onto your desktop computer.

He read out the transcript and helped you summarise it into text.

“Sunghoon says that he’s ditching his playboy rep to focus on himself, weirdo because I remember him throwing himself at you during this interview hoping that you’d give him attention, you can simplify it to ‘I’m a lame ass bitch who doesn’t get any hoes’ he truly did fuck around and find out!”

You laughed at his words.

“I knew you’d say something like that.”

He snuggled up to your back.

“So I’m getting predictable now, huh…”

You shook your head. “Never..”

“Guess our date will have to be something you wouldn’t expect.”

He was right, you really didn’t expect lunch on top of Brooklyn Bridge.

[iamgonnagetyouback]

james potter x reader where he's jealous and remus doesn't always talk about sirius

The Gryffindor common room was unusually quiet for a Saturday evening. Most students were milling about outside, taking advantage of the crisp autumn weather, but James Potter was perched stiffly on one of the armchairs by the fireplace, staring at the door as though it owed him an explanation.

Across from him, Remus Lupin was mid-rant, gesturing vaguely with a chocolate frog. "And so I told Sirius he couldn’t just charm the books to read themselves, because that defeats the entire purpose of studying, doesn’t it? But, of course, he—James, are you even listening to me?"

James, who hadn’t looked away from the door in at least five minutes, blinked. "What? Yeah, of course, I’m listening to you."

Remus raised a skeptical eyebrow. "Really? Then what did I just say?"

James scratched the back of his neck, his hazel eyes still glued to the door. "Uh… something about Sirius and… words?"

Remus let out a dramatic sigh, his cheeks flushing ever so slightly. "You know, I don’t always talk about Sirius, James. I have other topics."

James finally tore his gaze from the door to smirk at his friend. "Sure, Moony. And I’m totally listening to you and not, in any way, staring at the door and counting how long my lovely girlfriend’s been gone with Amos bloody Diggory."

Remus tilted his head, catching the light teasing in James’ tone but also noting the furrow of concern in his brows. "They’ve only been gone for five minutes, Prongs."

"Exactly!" James exclaimed, throwing his hands up. "What could they possibly need to discuss in private for that long? Private. Honestly." He made air quotes around the word as though it were the most ridiculous concept in the world.

"Maybe something private?" Remus suggested with a shrug.

James leaned back, crossing his arms and pouting like a child denied dessert. "You’re not helping, Moony. What could Diggory possibly want? He doesn’t even like books—probably doesn’t know what a book is. Did you see the way he walked her out of the common room? All confident, like he owns the place? Smug git."

Remus suppressed a smile. "You know, if you’re this worried, maybe you should just follow them next time."

"Don’t tempt me." James narrowed his eyes, the wheels clearly turning in his head.

James let out an indignant scoff, running a hand through his messy hair. “Why couldn’t he say it here, in front of everyone, where it’s safe?” His voice grew increasingly dramatic, and Remus could only watch, mildly horrified but also slightly entertained.

“James, I don’t think Diggory is plotting her demise,” Remus reasoned dryly.

“You don’t know that!” James hissed, glaring at the door again as though willing it to open. “He’s suspicious. I mean, why does he always have to be so—ugh—charming?” He spat the word like it physically hurt him. “It’s unnatural. What does he think he’s playing at, asking for ‘private’ time?!”

“You’re spiraling,” Remus pointed out, though his tone carried no real concern.

“Maybe I am spiraling!” James snapped. “Maybe spiraling is exactly what I should be doing when my girlfriend is out there—alone—with Amos Diggory. For TEN MINUTES.”

Before Remus could reply, the portrait swung open, and in walked you, looking perfectly content and completely unaware of the turmoil you’d left in your wake.

James bolted upright, all his previous indignation vanishing in an instant. "You’re back!" He practically sprinted to your side, his glasses slightly askew from the rush.

You blinked at him, startled by his sudden enthusiasm. "Uh, yeah. I was only gone for ten minutes."

"Ten minutes?!" James gasped, clutching his chest dramatically. "Do you have any idea how worried I’ve been? It felt like ten days! One minute feels like a day without you, darling!"

Remus groaned, muttering something about melodrama under his breath as he retreated to his chair.

You laughed, shaking your head. "James, you’re ridiculous."

"Ridiculously relieved you’re safe!" he quipped, his eyes softening as they roved over your face. "So… what did Diggory want to talk about? In private," he added, voice dripping with mockery.

You rolled your eyes. "He wanted me to tutor him in Charms."

James’ brow furrowed, jealousy bubbling up, though he masked it poorly with faux curiosity. "And you said…?"

"I said no, of course," you replied breezily. "He’s hopeless and creepy. I can live without that headache."

James’ face immediately brightened, his chest puffing out in pride. “That’s my girl,” he said with a smug grin, wrapping an arm around your waist. “Smart, talented, and way too good to waste her time on someone like Diggory.”

You rolled your eyes fondly. “Jealous, are we?”

“Who, me? Jealous?” James scoffed, though his ears turned pink. “Don’t be ridiculous.”

Behind him, Remus coughed pointedly.

“Alright, maybe a little,” James admitted, pulling you closer. “But it’s only because I’m madly in love with you, and if Diggory thinks he can swoop in and—”

“James, I literally said no to him,” you interrupted, laughing. “He doesn’t stand a chance.”

“Damn right, he doesn’t,” James said, his jealousy melting into his usual cheeky grin. “Now, c’mon, I’ve been waiting forever to cuddle you.”

“Forever being ten minutes,” Remus quipped from his armchair.

James turned to him with a mock glare. “I don’t need your sass, Moony.”

“Of course you don’t,” Remus said with a sigh, hiding a smirk behind his book.

You raised an eyebrow at him. "Were you really that worried, Potter?"

"Not worried, per se," he replied, the smirk creeping back onto his face. "Just… concerned for your well-being. Diggory’s a creep. He could’ve tried something. And if he had, well…" He flexed his arms exaggeratedly. "I’d have to remind him why I’m Gryffindor’s best duelist and the Quidditch captain."

You burst into laughter, playfully shoving his shoulder. "Oh, James. You’re impossible."

"And yet, you love me," he said cheekily, stealing a quick kiss on your forehead.

BONUS

The Quidditch pitch was alive with the sound of beating wings and shouts as the Gryffindor team practiced. You sat on the stands, your eyes glued to James as he weaved through the air, golden and red robes fluttering behind him.

Next to you, Remus was trying to explain something—probably related to Sirius, as always—but you weren’t paying attention.

"And then, of course, Sirius said—Dove? Are you even listening to me?"

"Of course I am, Rem," you said absentmindedly, your gaze fixed on James as he executed a particularly sharp turn to dodge a bludger.

"Yeah? What was I talking about then?"

"Something about Sirius and… stuff?"

Remus groaned, his cheeks turning pink. “Why does everyone assume I’m always talking about Sirius?”

You didn’t answer, already back to watching James, who waved at you mid-air and nearly crashed into one of the goalposts. Remus sighed. “You and James are perfect for each other,” he muttered, shaking his head.

[creatingblackcharacters]

Hello! Thank you so much for all the effort and care you put into this account. I am a white high school english teacher and most of my students are Black; I cannot overstate how beneficial your lessons have been to my work. A lot of it has been in how I pick which texts we read. I’ve tried my best to carefully search for as many different Black authors as I can, especially modern ones, and it’s made me so happy to see my kids get excited about Black characters in stories! I FINALLY got a kid (who had refused to read all year) hooked on a book because he said the main character was just like him. You’ve also given me some really good advice on how to guide their critical thinking about race in a way that puts their own voices and experiences and feelings at the center. I’m learning so much from them as well, and when I make mistakes out of ignorance, your lessons have been invaluable for helping me maturely correct myself and make things right with kids. Besides, it’s plain easier to communicate when I’ve done the work at home to get more familiar with important parts of Black culture and experience. I definitely still have work to do for myself and with my white coworkers, but I just want you to know that what you’re doing is having a real positive impact on some young Black people in the world :)))

I think out of all the responses I get, my favorite is when I find out that the Black kids that people are around benefit from the newfound perspectives. Black children are treated so poorly in schools, like it honestly breaks my heart how we get sent in and expected to fail. It really can fuck up your perspective on the rest of your life when you have teachers that you're supposed to listen to... And they practically enforce that you don't matter. So I appreciate that you actually made that space a little more welcoming for our kids; that means the world to me. 😭😭😭😭

And really, just think about it- you got that job without ever having to think about these things before. For every teacher that's like you, there are hundreds that just... Aren't. That don't do the extra work. And they don't have to!

[raven-at-the-writing-desk]

Hello, I hope that I'm not too late for a small request for the NRC family interaction. But still do want to ask for a req for Azul Ashengrotto and Jamil Vipver to interact with Najma Viper. I could already imagine how chaotic it would be already.

Oml, Jamil’s worst nightmare would be if Najma developed a crush on Azul 😭 He would so go protective big brother mode… I didn’t decide to do that for this interaction though, it’s just a funny thought I had.

Family means Nobody is Left Behind or Forgotten.

“Oya, is that my dear friend Jamil-san over there?”

That voice. That ever-so grating voice, trilling out his name so sweetly. Immediately, Jamil wished to retreat into his hoodie like a turtle to a shell and die there.

Alas, he could do no such thing—not when he was trapped among several milling bodies, his younger sister in tow. Najma had heard and glanced over her shoulder. She locked eyes with the approaching octopus and arched an eyebrow as she tugged on her brother’s sleeve.

“Hmm? Hey, Jamil. There’s a guy in glasses headed this way and waving. It sounds like he wants your attention,” she pointed out.

“I know,” he hissed back, already starting to powerwalk away from Azul. And that’s just what I’m afraid of.

“Aren’t you going to at least say hi? It’d be rude to straight up ignore him.”

Jamil internally cursed. All that nagging from their parents about etiquette and how to show hospitality had been well and truly drilled into him as well as into her. Now it came back to bite him like a loose snake where it smarted the most.

“Please. He isn’t worth my breath—or the trouble.”

“Jamil-san! Please wait.”

To his dismay, Najma stopped dead in her tracks. “I really think you should greet him before you go.”

He gaped at her. “You’re joking.”

“Sevens, why are you being so weird about this?” She rolled her eyes. Then, cupping her hands around her mouth, she called out to Azul. Jamil’s stomach sank. “H~eeeeey! Jamil onii-chan’s friend! It’s nice to meet you. I’m his adorable little sister, Najma.”

He frowned. “Since when am I Jamil onii-chan? And since when are you my adorable little sister?”

“Since now,” she muttered back.

“Ahhh, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” Azul crooned. He took Najma’s hand and shook it. “Azul Ashengrotto, at your service. I’m a classmate of your brother’s, as well as dorm leader of Octavinelle and manager of the student-run on-campus eatery, Mostro Lounge.”

“Oh, wow!! That sounds so cool.”

“He’s humble bragging,” Jamil said flatly, folding his arms. “… What do you want, Azul?”

“Is that any way to greet your beloved bosom buddy?” He sighed, shrugging his hands up. “I only wanted to check in with you and make sure that you were enjoying Family Day.”

“Don’t say that. It’s disgusting—and patently false.”

Jamil’s eyes sharpened into pointed daggers. He’s surely sniffing around for weak points. If he cannot glean them from me, then he intends to pry those secrets from Najma. I won’t allow that to come to pass.

He gripped his little sister’s hand tightly and tugged on it. “I believe this concludes the obligatory pleasantries. Come along, Najma. We must get going to our next meeting.”

“Boo, you’re no fun,” she pouted, yanking back. “You’d seriously rather go to a boring old meeting than chat with a friend?”

“Don’t be difficult. You’re not visiting to make social calls, you’re here on business.”

“But you’re not attempting to socialize at all. Geez, you’re not putting anything you learned at home to practice, are you?”

“I am plenty!! I’m just selective about where and when to apply those teachings—as should you.”

“What a deep bond you have with your sister, Jamil-san. You fuss over her like a mother hen,” Azul chuckled, pushing his glasses up. “Why, as an only child, it warms my heart to see this kind of camaraderie. I shall have to commit this to memory.”

A heart? he scoffed. A cold, slimy one, perhaps.

Jamil shot Azul a frigid glare. “Do NOT.”

“Oh? But what is so wrong with appreciating a tender moment of bickering between siblings? It’s something I could never hope to experience myself.”

“Yeah, yeah, Jamil! You’re so totally being mean to your classmate for no good reason. Don’t you feel any shame?”

“Are you taking his side in this?!” he demanded of his sister.

“So what if I am?”

“My, my, Najma-san!” Azul suddenly wedged himself between the Vipers like an octopus slipping into the crack of a rock. His smile was annoyingly broad and simpering. “It seems that you and I are kindred spirits.”

“Yup! Looks like we are,” Najma agreed, an equally unsettling smile creeping onto her face.

Jamil paled. I don’t like where this is going…

“Then it is clear what we must do.”

“Yeah, it’s so obvious.”

They both turned to Jamil. The dread in his stomach spiked, hitting his peak, then sailed past it. He could feel his blood pressure shooting up too.

“We should bully him!”

[jewish-vents]

i’m a middle school teacher who just had to explain to one of my students that neo nazis are, in fact, real. and i’m still in shock honestly even 24 hours later. he was watching a video of a neo nazi march somewhere on his phone, showing it to a classmate and laughing because he thought “that was only a thing on twitter! i didn’t know they actually existed”

and i had to stop him and inform him that they are a real thing, with real violent goals, and asked him to put the video away and not show anything like that in my class again because it made me uncomfortable as a jewish person and he seemed sorry for making me upset but i still just

it’s so depressing. this kid is SO smart. he just got 100% on my test, is constantly making genuinely insightful comments, but still didn’t see what was happening on social media and make the connection to real life. and maybe i should be comforted by the fact that he was laughing at the idea of neo nazis being real, like their existence at all is worthy only of ridicule, but idk man. i don’t even have a smart thing to say about social media and our children and society i’m so drained every time i try to think about it or put it into words. i don’t think i even know what’s happening here, i just see it and despair

.

[anonymousewrites]

A Not-So-Disastrous Romance (Book 2) Chapter Twenty

Saiki Kusuo x Reader

Chapter Twenty: Investigative Transfer

Summary: Akechi begins to investigate Saiki's "psychic-ness."

            “You’re (Y/N) (L/N), right?” said Akechi, appearing behind (Y/N) in the hall. It was between classes, and (Y/N) jumped. Akechi didn’t give (Y/N) a chance to respond and barreled right into his next question. “You’re in my class. You sat with me at lunch. I just wanted to make sure you knew who I was. I noticed you and Kusuo seemed to be close.”

            (Y/N) coughed, and they opened their mouth to speak, but Akechi continued.

            “I have a few questions about Kusuo. What is he like? Has anything strange ever happened around you while he’s there?” said Akechi.

            “Not really,” said (Y/N). They smiled. “Everything is fine with him. Sometimes we’re around weird, but fun, people, so there’s that, but Kusuo doesn’t do anything weird.”

            They don’t think of my abilities as weird. From the floor above where he was listening to the conversation, Saiki smiled slightly.

            “Anything unexplained? Sudden things appearing or disappearing? Things moving how they shouldn’t?” Akechi leaned in. “You’re obviously the closest to him. Are you just friends? Or are you dating?”

            (Y/N)’s face turned completely red. “I—”

            “Judging by your reaction, you’re either dating or at least have a crush on him,” said Akechi. “Do you have a crush on him because he’s a psychic? Is he impressive? Do you have proof of his powers?”

            (Y/N) crossed their arms. “I like Kusuo—” I love Kusuo “—because he’s a good guy. He’s nice and helpful. Anything else doesn’t matter. Who cares about stuff like psychic powers?”

            Oh, wow. I love (Y/N). Those words sent him head-over-heels for them again.

            “So you don’t see him doing anything weird?” said Akechi.

            “Nope. Everything he does is just Kusuo,” said (Y/N), smiling.

            Akechi deflated slightly. “Thank you for your time.”

            Saiki breathed a sigh of relief. He could really rely on (Y/N).

l

            “Line up!” said Matsusaki, the sun beating down on the class. They stood in gardens, reading for their jobs. “We’re digging up potatoes, today.”

            Our school does this every October, thought Saiki. Yare yare. We’re not little kids. Nobody gets excited—

            “Let’s dig up potatoes!” said Hairo.

            “Yeah!” cheered the other students.

            I’m proved wrong.

            “We’re fart after eating sweet potatoes,” laughed Nendou.

            An idiot.

            “You can’t hide from me,” declared Kaidou dramatically. “You can’t escape my Sweet Potato Radar.”

            What a useless radar.

            “A golden treasure lies in wait!” said Mera.

            She’s insatiable.

            “If I can get a few potatoes, I can make potato-based bread,” said (Y/N) thoughtfully. “That’s very good.”

            “Let’s get to work, then,” said Saiki. A good pastry from (Y/N) was all the incentive he needed. He grimaced as soon as he stepped into the fields with (Y/N). His one weakness would be present, unfortunately. “Bugs…”

            “What was that, Kusuo?” said (Y/N).

            “Nothing,” said Saiki, pulling on his gloves. At least he was working with (Y/N). I’ll just pretend to dig.

            “Hi, there, Kusuo, (L/N),” said Akechi, appearing beside them. “Can I join you? We harvested potatoes once. It was October third in second grade when I was on the bus with you and peed my pants. I caused so much trouble then.” He crouched beside (Y/N) and Saiki. “Potato harvesting is fun, isn’t it? It makes me smile.”

            “I hope it doesn’t make you pee.”

            (Y/N) nudged Saiki in the side for that comment.

            “Kusuo, watch your feet,” said Akechi. “You might step on a worm.”

            Sure enough, Saiki looked down and saw a bug. He jerked back immediately. “Crap!”

            “Are you okay?” said Akechi.

            Saiki swallowed. I held it in. That was close. He had almost exploded all the potatoes up from the ground. If I did that in front of this guy, it’s all over.

            “You don’t look well,” said Akechi.

            “Don’t worry, Kusuo,” said (Y/N). They picked up the caterpillar and set it on a bush farther away so it could eat and grow. They smiled back at Saiki. “I’ll protect you from the bugs.”

            “Are you an angel?” blurted out Saiki, and (Y/N) laughed.

            “Hey, pal, pinky, look what I harvested!” called Nendou, holding up a dozen giant potatoes.

            “Great job, Nendou,” said (Y/N).

            “Those are impressive potatoes,” said Akechi, thankfully distracted.

            “Right? His are even better, though,” said Nendou, gesturing to Kaidou. “Show them.”

            “Shut up,” huffed Kaidou. “Here.” He held up a few shriveled potatoes.

            “So tiny.”

            “Impressive, little guy!” laughed Nendou. “The skinniest potatoes!”

            “Shut up! It’s about how they taste! Not how they look,” said Kaidou defensively.

            “Those will definitely taste bad,” said Saiki.

            “Yeah,” agreed (Y/N), chuckling.

            “Did you know that the purple color of these potatoes is due to a pigment called anthocyanin?” said Akechi.

            “What’s that all about?” said Nendou.

            “My character talks a lot, so I need to talk now or you’ll forget,” said Akechi.

            “I don’t think we can forget you,” chirped (Y/N). “You leave an impression.”

            “That’s not a good thing.” I should leave while Akechi is busy. He took (Y/N)’s hand and pulled them away with him a few steps.

            They paused as they looked at Mera, who stared up at them tiredly. She had been harvesting so quickly she was already tiring. Saiki blinked. (Y/N) blinked. Mera blinked. Saiki patted her on the shoulder, and a light burst for a moment. An energized Mera jumped up and walked off for more potatoes, leaving a few for Saiki to pick up without having to face any bugs.

            “Go and prosper,” said Saiki as Mera happily went searching for more food.

            “Bye, Mera!” said (Y/N), waving.

            “Did you already finish, Kusuo? When?” said Akechi, appearing behind them.

            “When you were rambling about potato taste and color,” said Saiki.

            “But your gloves are still clean,” observed Akechi. “Did someone help you? You can’t have someone else do it.”

            “Kusuo and I were working together. He spotted the best plants, and I pulled them up,” said (Y/N), smiling and holding up their own dirty gloves.

            “The whole point of this exercise is to serve the community, so he should pull at least one for it to be fair. Come on, Kusuo, let’s do this,” said Akechi. “Help me clear away these vines.” He tossed a vine to Saiki.

            Instantly, Saiki’s eyes narrowed in on the worm about to crawl onto his hand. He sucked in a breath.

            “Look at this one, it looks like a turd!” said Nendou, showing a strange potato to Kaidou.

            Bam! It exploded.

            “It blew up!” cried Kaidou.

            “Oh, something happened,” said Akechi, looking back. He looked at Saiki with an evil look on his face. “Let’s continue.”

            He figured out I hate bugs…

            He knows Kusuo’s weakness.

            Kusuo hates bugs! though Akechi. Enough to unconsciously use his psychic powers. I’ll find some more.

            Saiki shivered and braced himself as best he could as Akechi approached. “Here, Kusuo,” said Akechi.

            “Oh, Akechi, watch out,” said (Y/N), interceding with a smile. “There are still some bugs on the vine.” They took the bugs in their gloves and deposited them back on the ground. “You don’t want to disturb them from their habitat.”

            “Oh. Right. They are good pollinators,” said Akechi, his plan interrupted once again by (Y/N).

            Saiki stared at (Y/N) like they were a real angel in the flesh. Not only had them somehow been nice to the gross bugs, but they had saved him from Akechi.

            “It’s no problem, just be careful. Leave them on the ground,” said (Y/N), smiling. “Kusuo, will you help me pull on these?”

            Saiki nodded and knelt to help them. He knew no bugs were around if (Y/N) was asking him. So, he pulled out a potato, and (Y/N) grinned.

            “There, Akechi. Now Kusuo has helped on both sides of our team-up,” said (Y/N). They gestured to their basket. “We have to head out, now. Bye.”

            Akechi watched them go. They are definitely dating. But are they covering for Kusuo because of that or do they truly not know about his powers?

            You will never find out, thought Saiki. It was bad enough that Akechi was figuring out they were dating and could blab to everyone, but he did not intend for Akechi to learn that his abilities were real.

l

            “Thank you for dealing with the bugs.” Saiki shivered as he remembered them.

            “It’s no problem,” said (Y/N), smiling and putting down a freshly baked loaf of potato bread. It had taken until the weekend to finish it up, but they had the loaf now. “Everyone has their fears.”

            “You don’t,” remarked Saiki. They faced everything easily.

            “I get scared of haunted houses and ghosts,” said (Y/N).

            “That’s only because Toritsuka is a creep and makes everything creepier,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) laughed. “Fair enough. But I am scared of things.”

            “I don’t believe that.” (Y/N) was one of the strongest and bravest people he knew—maybe the strongest and bravest.

            “I’m scared of losing you,” teased (Y/N).

            The sudden flirting made Saiki’s cheeks warm, and (Y/N) laughed. “I bring a lot of trouble. Your life would be calmer without me.”

            “My life would be boring without you,” corrected (Y/N). “And I like my life with you in it.”

            “Even when you have to deal with people like Akechi or Teruhashi or Kusuke?” said Saiki incredulously.

            “Yeah,” said (Y/N), shrugging as if it was obvious. “Kokomi is my friend, and she is growing, maturing. She is so used to her identity being her looks that she’s still figuring out who she is beyond that. I think she’s going to find who she is and be happier for it. So she’s no bother.

            “Kusuke is…eccentric, but I know you and I can handle his ridiculous games.” They laughed.

            “And as for Akechi…I think he’s just looking for answers. Whatever happened between you two, he’s clearly been left with questions, and I can’t blame him for wanting to understand,” said (Y/N). “If you had just teleported away when I found you teleporting the hotel, I would be confused and try to get answers.” They shrugged. “So I don’t care about all that. I like having you in my life, Kusuo. You’re my boyfriend now, and you were my friend before. Nothing changes that I care about you.”

            “You’re too nice.”

            “And you’re too pessimistic, so we balance each other out,” laughed (Y/N).

            “…Should I tell Akechi?” said Saiki. “Would that get him to leave us alone?”

            (Y/N) looked at him. “Do you want my honest answer?” Saiki nodded. “Probably not. I think he wants to be your friend like you were in elementary school. And he seems like the type that becomes part of our friend group.” They laughed.

            “I don’t know if he wants to be my friend about elementary school,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) paused. “Do you want to talk about it?”

            “I…did something I shouldn’t have,” said Saiki.

            (Y/N) sat down across from Saiki and held out their hand. Saiki took their offer and held their hand. “You can tell me if you want.”

            “I healed him after he was bullied. He was nice to me, and I wanted to help. I thought he was unconscious, but he had seen everything. He started calling me a psychic, a healer, the next few days, and the bullies started demanding I prove it.” Saiki paused. “I didn’t. I acted clueless. I thought that would stop everything, but—”

            (Y/N) squeezed his hand encouragingly, gazing at him.

            “I found Akechi beaten up again. I saw them standing over him, and I just snapped.” Saiki swallowed. “I destroyed the entire classroom and barely managed to wipe the memories of the bullies of what I’d done. But Akechi saw. And I had to leave schools. All because I lost control and hurt people.” He looked at (Y/N). “That’s why Akechi can’t find out it was real. Because I was a danger. He’ll tell everyone that I’m a danger. And I didn’t mean to—”

            “Of course you didn’t,” said (Y/N), squeezing his hand. “You were six years old, Kusuo. What six-year-old can control their emotions, let alone psychic powers? It was an accident, and it happened because you wanted to protect your friend. No one can fault you for that.” They smiled. “And you don’t know that Akechi thinks you’re a danger. Maybe he just wants to know if you really did help him. You two were friends. Maybe that’s what he wants back. His friend.”

            “Maybe. I don’t know.”

            “But you don’t have to do anything you don’t want to do,” said (Y/N). “But if you decide to do anything or just want to talk, I’m here, alright? I’m always here.”

            “Even knowing I’m capable of harm?” said Saiki quickly.

            “Everyone is capable of harm. Everyone is capable of good,” said (Y/N). “What’s important is that you choose to do good.” They smiled, lifted his hand, and kissed the back. “That’s why I like you so much.”

            Saiki smiled slightly. “You always know what to say.”

            “I just say what I think,” said (Y/N).

            “I know.” And it meant the world to Saiki.

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[redocity]

Buck with a reader who is Chris' teacher, and Eddie asks Buck to pick him up from school since he's on call whereas Buck isn't, but Buck got caught up in a little traffic so he's late so it's just Chris and reader hanging out in class, and when Chris sees Buck he's so dang happy and reader finds it infectious, and Buck and reader hit it off? (Maybe Buck 3.0?)

PICK-UP — E.BUCKLEY

buck pick’s up chris from school as a favour, and finds himself oddly fond of chris’ teacher.

evan buckley x gn!teacher!reader | fluff | 1.2k | masterlist.

a/n — buck 3.0 deserves all the happiness in the world

You glanced at the clock on the wall, watching the second hand tick by as the classroom emptied out, until it left just you and Christopher.

His classmates had already been picked up, one by one, but Chris was still waiting patiently in his seat near the window, flipping through a book about space.

You smiled at the sight. He was always so curious, and it didn’t take much for him to lose himself in a new discovery.

“Everything okay, Chris?” You asked, coming over to sit beside him.

He looked up, his face bright with a grin. “Yeah, my dad said Buck was coming to pick me up today,”

You nodded, though you couldn’t help but glance at the clock again. “I’m sure he’ll be here soon,” you said, hoping to reassure him.

Eddie had called earlier to let you know that his shift was running late, so Buck, whoever that was, had stepped in to help.

You hadn’t met him before, but from the way Chris talked about him in class, it was clear Buck was an important figure in his life.

The minutes stretched on, and the school parking lot outside began to clear out, with fewer and fewer cars rolling through. It wasn’t like you had any pressing plans, but you hated to think of Chris waiting much longer.

“Want to play a quick game while we wait?” you suggested, pulling out a deck of cards from your desk.

Chris nodded eagerly, and before long, the two of you were playing a quiet round of Go Fish, his laughter filling the room as you tried to act overly dramatic each time he asked for a card.

You couldn’t help but enjoy moments like these—teaching wasn’t always easy, but it was days like this, spending time with kids like Chris, that reminded you why you loved it so much.

Then, just as you were reshuffling the deck for another round, you heard hurried footsteps echoing down the hall. The door swung open, and a tall man burst in, slightly out of breath but grinning widely.

“Hey, buddy!” he called, his voice full of warmth.

“Buck!” Chris’s face lit up in a way that was absolutely infectious, his joy so pure that it tugged at your heartstrings. He quickly abandoned the card game, pushing his chair back as Buck crossed the room in a few long strides to give him a hug.

“Sorry I'm late,” Buck said, kneeling down to meet Chris’s height. “Got caught in some traffic. But hey, I'm here now!”

Chris beamed up at him, clearly unfazed by the wait. “It’s okay! We were playing Go Fish!”

Buck chuckled, his eyes flicking up to meet yours for the first time, and you felt an odd flutter in your chest. He was handsome in a casual, rugged sort of way—dressed in a simple t-shirt and jeans, but with an air of confidence that made him stand out.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” he said, standing up and extending a hand toward you. “I’m Buck, by the way.”

You took his hand, smiling warmly. “No problem at all. I’m Chris’ teacher.”

His grip was firm but friendly, and when he let go, you found yourself still feeling the warmth of it. “Chris talks about you a lot,” Buck said, his tone light but sincere. “Says you’re the best at making science fun.”

Chris, still holding onto Buck’s side, nodded enthusiastically. “Yeah, they’re the best!”

You laughed, feeling a blush creep into your cheeks at the compliment. “Well, Chris makes it easy. He’s a great student.”

Buck’s eyes softened as he looked at Chris, the fondness unmistakable. “Yeah, he is.”

The moment hung in the air for a beat, comfortable yet filled with an energy you couldn’t quite put your finger on. There was something about Buck—his warmth, the way he interacted with Chris, and the way he had this effortless ability to make you feel at ease.

“Can we finish the game before we go?” Chris blinks between the two of you, and you spare a glance in Buck’s direction at the request. It was his call at the end of the day.

“Please?”

Buck folds almost immediately. “Alright,”

“Do you play Go Fish?” you asked, a playful challenge in your voice, as you held up the deck of cards.

Buck grinned, raising an eyebrow. “Oh, I’m not sure you want to challenge me to join you. I’m kind of a pro.”

“Oh yeah?” you raise an eyebrow amusedly. “Care to test that theory?”

Chris’s face lit up even more at the idea, clearly excited at the prospect of Buck joining in. “Yeah, let’s play! Come on, Buck!”

Buck shot you a look, full of that infectious charm, and you found yourself laughing despite yourself. “Alright, deal me in,” he said, pulling up a chair.

The three of you spent the next fifteen minutes laughing and playing cards, with Chris dramatically declaring every match he made while Buck exaggeratedly groaned each time you won a round. There was a lightness in the room that made time slip away without you even noticing.

Before long, though, the game came to a close, and it was time for them to head out. As Buck helped Chris gather his things, you stood up, feeling a slight pang of disappointment that the moment was ending.

“Thanks again for staying late,” Buck said, his voice softer now. “I appreciate it,”

“Of course,” you replied. “Anytime.”

Buck hesitated for a second, then smiled. “Maybe we’ll see you around?”

There was something in the way he said it—hopeful, almost—as if he wasn’t just talking about school pickups. You found yourself nodding, a warmth spreading through you that had little to do with the classroom. “Yeah,” you said softly. “Maybe you will,”

As Buck and Chris walked out the door, Chris fumbling with his crutches to wave over his shoulder, you couldn’t help but smile.

The room felt a little quieter without them, but you had a feeling this wouldn’t be the last time you’d see Buck. Something told you he’d be around again, and maybe—maybe—that wouldn’t be such a bad thing.

[wethotcrazy]

THE GOLDEN LOTUS

pairing: Ollie Bearman x Reader

word count: 864

university au!! i just wanted something cute and sweet and i think i really cooked with this one. also thinking of maybe making this into a series or having other uni au's for other drivers, what do you guys think???

Ollie Bearman wasn’t one for change. Predictability was his sanctuary, a warm cocoon that he didn’t much like leaving. His life ran on routine: lectures, workouts, and pasta dinners in his dorm room. But predictability took a nosedive the day he stumbled into the Golden Lotus.

It was a small Chinese restaurant tucked between a laundromat and a charity shop, a little worn but radiating charm. Ollie’s first visit was born of desperation—he’d forgotten to do a food shop, and the Golden Lotus was cheap, convenient, and smelled amazing. He didn’t even like Chinese food that much, but the portion sizes? Enormous. Enough to feed a starving uni student for two days, if he rationed it right.

The food, however, quickly became secondary.

The real reason Ollie found himself at the Golden Lotus every Tuesday and Thursday night was the girl behind the counter. YN.

She was a computer science major with a sharp wit and a smile that felt like a reward when Ollie managed to coax it out of her. YN worked the evening shift, her laptop often open beside the register as she chipped away at coursework between filling takeout orders. She lived in the apartment above the restaurant, earning a rent discount by working their… or so he overheard.

At first, Ollie had been too shy to do much more than order his food, offer a polite smile, and retreat to his usual table. But YN had noticed him—how could she not? He was the only customer who regularly dined in. That was rare enough, but when someone started showing up twice a week like clockwork, well… she couldn’t help but be a little curious.

It had started innocently.

“You’re becoming a regular,” she’d said one night, sliding his order across the counter. Her tone was teasing but kind, and Ollie had stammered some excuse about the convenience. She’d laughed softly, and the sound stuck with him longer than it should have.

From that moment, their interactions had begun to stretch beyond the standard “Cash or card?” conversations. On slow nights, Ollie would linger, striking up tentative chats about coursework or whatever music was playing on the overhead speakers. He learned that YN hated group projects but loved building things—apps, websites, anything she could tinker with. She learned that Ollie was studying business but had a secret dream of running his own karting center someday, a nod to his childhood passion for motorsports.

It wasn’t long before they’d fallen into a quiet rhythm.

When YN wasn’t busy, she’d sit at a table with her laptop open, her brow furrowed as she debugged code or prepared for lectures. One evening, Ollie surprised her by setting his business textbook across from her.

“You don’t mind, do you?” he asked.

She blinked at him, caught off guard, then shrugged. “Sure, but I’m not sharing my Wi-Fi password.”

He grinned, and just like that, Ollie became a fixture of her workspace.

Mr. Zhou, however, was less enthused at first.

“That boy again?” he’d muttered one evening, poking his head out of the kitchen to see Ollie hunched over his notes. “Does he not have a home?”

“He’s harmless,” YN had assured him.

“Harmless or homeless?”

But Ollie grew on Mr. Zhou over time. The older man had caught him fixing a wobbly table one night, unprompted, and begrudgingly admitted the “straggler” wasn’t so bad.

By November, Ollie had started hanging around until closing. Not to pester YN—though he did enjoy the extra time with her—but because the restaurant had become a comfort to him, a little pocket of warmth in his otherwise hectic uni life. Sometimes, after locking up, YN would invite him upstairs to her flat. It was tiny, crammed with textbooks and a perpetually half-finished Lego sets, but Ollie loved it.

Their hangouts weren’t dates. Not officially, anyway. But Ollie couldn’t deny how much he looked forward to them. Whether they were watching a movie or playing video games, he felt at ease in her company.

The turning point came in mid-December, on a freezing morning when Ollie was walking to class with his flatmate, Kimi.

“So,” Kimi began, glancing at him with a sly smile, “how’s your girlfriend?”

“What?” Ollie nearly tripped over his own feet.

“You know, YN,” Kimi said, casually sipping his coffee. “You’re at that restaurant all the time. I just thought… you know?”

“She’s not my—” Ollie started, but the words died in his throat.

Because, truthfully, he didn’t hate the idea. In fact, the thought of YN as his girlfriend made his stomach flip in a way he hadn’t felt before.

That evening, as he sat at his usual table in the Golden Lotus, Ollie caught himself staring at YN while she worked. She was wiping down the counter, humming softly to herself, her hair falling loose from its tie. She glanced up and caught him looking.

“What?” she asked, a playful smile tugging at her lips.

“Nothing,” Ollie said quickly, feeling his cheeks heat.

But in that moment, he realized he didn’t want to keep playing it safe. Maybe it was time to take a chance.

Just as soon as he worked up the courage.

[cherubcameron]

Love Espresso

Chapter Three: Grand Opening

Synopsis: after her breakup with Rafe and him kicking her out. Her best friend offers her a new job and a place to stay. But when Rafe comes back from Morocco. He realizes he’d made a grave mistake. Will Sofia go back to him? Or will she decide that her new life means more to her than him?

Sofia helped Liliana carry the big sign to the front. It wasn’t too heavy but she wanted to help regardless. Once they set it down, they smiled at the sign.

The sign read:

That’s that me espresso

“Cute.” Sofia comments, Liliana turns her head towards Sofia and grins brightly.

“Thank you, thank you.” Liliana fake bows, “Thank you Sabrina Carpenter for the song espresso.” A disheveled Hector comes running out the coffee shop. He’s out of breath but manages a smile on his face.

“I need you guys to try the tiramisu cake slices I just made. I think I’m going to send people to heaven and back.” Hector excitedly says, Sofia and Liliana make it back inside.

On the counter waits two perfectly made tiramisu cakes. They approach the counter. They were used to Hector bringing in pastries when he worked with them at the country club. So they knew how much of an amazing baker he was. But when they sank their teeth in this cake. It felt like colors exploded. Like the world became much brighter.

"Did you put drugs in this?" Liliana asks, her eyes blown as she continues to scarf down the cake. It was half way gone.

"Christ, who do you think I am?" Hector says incredulously. Sofia let out a laugh. She hadn't spoken to blown away by the tiramisu cake to speak.

"This is amazing, Hector. You weren't wrong about heaven and back." Sofia says. Hector beams at her, standing proudly.

"Te lo dije!" Liliana is cheering as she says this. Sofia finishes the tiramisu cake. She wants to lick the plate; but refuses to do it in front of them.

"Oh, business is definitely going to be blooming after this. I will take my praise now, thank you." Hector says, smiling brightly.

"Don't push it, Hector." Sofia says, Hector frowns jokingly. Then returns to the back, probably to make more cakes.

"Told you, helped him discover his dreams." Liliana points out. Sofia shakes her head.

“Your mind.” Sofia says. She goes to the back, thinking about taking another one of Hector’s cakes.

Rafe decides to do the first thing he can think of. Trying to see if he can find Sofia at the country club. When he arrives, his heart sinks. She is no where to be found. A part of him feels guilty. He'd been the one to tell her to quit. That he'll provide for her now. No more pogue shit.

She probably lost her job for good. He walks to a random worker. He sees the brunette pouring a kook a drink.

"Hey, is uh Sofia working here?" He asks her, the girl scrunches up her nose. Then her eyes widen, does she know him?

"No, Sof-Sofia doesn't work here anymore." The girl says, Rafe frowns visibly. Shock can't begin to describe how she feels.

"D-did she ever try to get her job back?" Rafe asks, the girls face hardens.

“And why do you care? Do you know her or something?” The girl says angrily, Rafe tries to keep his emotions in check. He doesn’t know why she’s being rude. He sneers at her.

“She’s my fiancé.” He blinks a couple of times. “My ex fiancé.” He mumbles.

“She doesn’t work here anymore. Scram.”The girl says angrily. Rafe’s jaw ticks, he doesn’t like the way the girl talks to him. Rafe tries to compose himself. Trying to not get too angry.

“Okay, fine.” He begins to walk away but turns back. “What’s your name by the way. I think I’ll need to talk to your manager about your attitude.”

The girl rolls her eyes but gives him her name. “It’s Catalina.”

With that, Rafe huffs and walks away. Vaguely feeling like that name was familiar.

After a few more days, the coffee shop was finally open. They had a lot more customers than anticipated. But they managed rather smoothly. Liliana hired two college students and one high school student. Sofia typically running the register as she did when she was in the country club. It was nice, it was busy enough for her to keep her mind off of things. Especially off of Rafe. And the fact that he was back from Morocco.

“Welcome to Cozy Corner Brews. What can I get you today?” Sofia says brightly, Sarah looks at Sofia in shock. Sofias face remains the same, but internally she’s shocked as well.

“Hey Sofia.” Sarah says awkwardly, her eyes scanning Sofia. Her eyes falling on her apron. Then back up again.

“Uh hi, hi Sarah.” Sofia says, she taps anxiously on the counter. She isn’t sure what else to say. She waits until Sarah orders something to drink or eat.

“I didn't know you worked here." Sarah says, still eyeing Sofia. Sofia nods her head, she presses her lips together.

"Uh yeah, it's my best friends shop." Sofia taps her fingers gently on the counter. "Can I get you anything to drink? Anything to eat, we have a bunch of pastries."

"Uh, yeah yeah. Can I just get a tiramisu cake?" Sarah asks, she rubs her belly as she asks. Sofia is shocked to see that Sarah is visibly pregnant. Sarah notices and smiles.

"I'm five months. It was a shock to me too." Sarah says, she looks down at her stomach and smiles. "But I'm happy, I get to have this baby with John B. I couldn't be happier."

Sofia goes into the display to grab one of the tiramisu cakes. She looks around to see a couple of people reading as they drink their food. Others are on laptops, a few with neither just enjoying a cake or coffee drink.

Sofia can't help to feel a wave of jealousy overcome her. Not that she would want to be pregnant. Not right now, anyway. But that she had someone. She hated to admit how much she missed Rafe.

"Don't worry by the way, I won't tell Rafe I saw you. I'll keep it to myself. I'll let him find out on his own."

Sofia hands over the tiramisu cake that Sarah wanted, "Thank you." Sofia says. Sarah nods, tapping her card. Sofia hands over the receipt. Once Sarah leaves, Sofia feels like she can breath again.

Liliana slammed the door to her car, Sofia getting out of the passenger seat. Sofia bringing the straps of her purse back to her shoulders.

“I’m so excited to be shopping with you!” Liliana squeals. “Just like olden times.”

A wave of guilt comes over Sofia, realizing how much time she would spend with Rafe; over her friends.

"Tj maax, here we come!" Liliana says again, "I want to make a little bar cart for the living room.”

As they walk in, Sofia made wanders off. She’d remembered coming in here, looking for things to buy for Rafe and her. When he’d told her to move in with him. It sent a pang of hurt coursing through her body. She tried to think of the now, but her mind wouldn’t let her. Trapping her in the then.

“Anything you’re planning on picking up?” Liliana asks, her voice dragging Sofia back to the present. Ariana grande plays through the speakers.

“Uh, maybe some new socks. I’ve been losing a lot of pairs lately. Oh and I need new underwear.” Sofia laughs.

“Oh my god, thanks for reminding me. I need some too.” They make it to the intimate section, Sofia lets out a sigh. She knows she can’t keep her thoughts in anymore.

“Do you think he’ll ever forgive me? Like- like he’ll just see that I didn’t mean to hurt him.” Sofia asks. Liliana puts down a pair of pjs back on the rack. Her eyes scanning Sofias face.

“Well, do you think Rafes the forgiving type?” Liliana asks. Sofia looks down at the ground. Tugging her lips behind her teeth.

“He would always get upset; about the way the kooks at the club talked about him.” Sofia said, Liliana nodded her head. Waiting for Sofia to continue.

“But that’s different, no?” Sofia asks, Liliana regards her for a moment.

“It is, your relationship with him was more intimate. He cared about you. I think you just need to— I hate to say it this way. But just face the music. He doesn’t seem like he’ll forgive you.” Liliana says, not trying to be harsh but what she says comes out bluntly.

Sofia tries to mask the hurt she feels. “Yeah, you have a point.” They continue shopping, Sofia trying to mask her pain. She did this to herself. She had no room to be upset.

Song Sofia is listening to on her playlist

[mariacallous]

Since the conversation, if you can call it that, about trans people always seems to come down to bathrooms, I am sure of one thing.

I would much rather share a ladies’ room or a locker room with Sarah McBride than with Nancy Mace.

McBride, of course, was just elected to Congress and, in January, will be the highest-ranking elected official in America who is transgender. The 34-year-old comes to the US House of Representatives after serving in the Delaware legislature; before that, she was the national press secretary of the Human Rights Campaign.

Mace, a member of Congress from South Carolina since 2021, has been on an ugly campaign in recent weeks clearly intended to belittle and marginalize McBride – and to get on TV as much as possible doing so. She has filed a resolution, and the House speaker, Mike Johnson, has given it his nod of approval, that would somehow force trans people to keep out of the congressional bathrooms that reflect their gender identity.

“If you think this bill is about protecting women and not simply a ploy to get on Fox News, you’ve been fooled,” wrote Natalie Johnson, Mace’s former communications director. She added, pointedly, that a real effort to protect women would involve “a bill to bar Matt Gaetz, a sexual predator with an affinity for underage girls, from ever walking those halls again”. (Trump, as you know, tapped the far-right former Florida representative as his attorney general as part of this month’s parade of appalling cabinet choices. Gaetz later withdrew from consideration.)

On Wednesday, McBride reacted with dignity to all the performative insults and abuse. She simply responded that she would follow the rules and that she’s in Congress to represent her Delaware district; I’m sure she’ll eventually find ways to continue her admirable advocacy.

Mace, on the other hand, can’t be described as dignified. She’s running around pasting the word “biological” on restroom doors for photo ops, and snidely tweeting in McBride’s direction about International Men’s Day.

And she’s getting plenty of the media attention she craves.

On one level, this is all part of the unending circus of the Trump era.

On a human level, it’s scary, wrong and damaging.

“As a trans person myself, I’m really worried about where this is headed,” wrote Parker Molloy, who writes incisively about politics and media in her newsletter the Present Age. “I spend each day worrying about whether or not the healthcare that keeps me alive will remain legal, whether I’m going to face new restrictions on where I’m allowed to exist in public, what would happen to me if (god forbid) I wound up in prison for some reason, and whether or not my identity documents like my passport will be retroactively made invalid.”

She added poignantly: “Now, more than ever, I feel alone.”

Trans students may have it even worse. Again, it often comes down to bathrooms.

A lot of children, especially transgender and gender-nonconforming children, avoid bathrooms all day, since that’s where the bullying can be most intense. Thus, advocates say, trans kids often are prone to urinary tract infections or eating disorders because they’ve avoided eating and drinking.

As for the right’s obsession with trans students on sports team, the vast majority have no unfair advantage on the playing fields (or courts, or pools). They are just trying to reap the same benefits of sports as do other kids – leadership, teamwork and friendship.

The meanspirited and misinformed narrative about transgender people makes it difficult for them to feel cared about and to live full lives.

But don’t try to tell that to Mace, whose preoccupation is not with kindness or decency, but with getting attention and winning the culture wars.

As the Daily Beast reported last year, Mace’s staffers were given a handbook that outlined just how intensely this mattered to their boss; they were told to book her on TV multiple times a day, amounting to nine times a week for national outlets and six times a week for local outlets.

In 2021, Mace depicted herself as supportive of LGBTQ+ rights. That was before the tide turned so forcefully and, as Philip Bump of the Washington Post put it, before “the Republican base had been fed a steady diet of anti-trans rhetoric, making trans issues fertile ground for anyone willing to engage in the fight”.

Mace, clearly, is more than willing.

If that means being cruel, then so be it. As writer Adam Serwer observed about Trumpian politics: “The cruelty is the point.”

Meanwhile, vulnerable and marginalized people are made to suffer for trying to be true to themselves. And despite the progress shown by McBride’s election, the world around this milestone seems to be getting increasingly harsh.

[maxdibert]

“Sirius killed people-“ so did Snape, supposedly loved Lily but betrayed her location to Voldemort because he was jealous of James actually winning her heart, not to mention convincing Harry the abuse was his fault, nearly giving Neville PTSD to the point where his boggart was Severus Snape himself, being a racist pos to anyone born of muggle parents, and becoming a high ranking member of the death eaters so what? He could protect Harry?

“It’s easier to cry in a Ferrari-“

it’s easier to defend a terrible character and play the racism and eat the rich card when you can’t understand context and inference clues that JK Rowling laid out.

What’s easy is inventing canon. What a load of made-up nonsense, mate.

1. Learn to read. I didn’t say Sirius killed anyone, but he did attempt murder. And he did it because he thought it was funny to torture Severus.

2. There’s no evidence that Severus killed anyone before Dumbledore asked him for euthanasia. This is made quite clear when Dumbledore talks about his concern for Draco’s soul, and Severus immediately questions him about his own soul. If Severus is so worried about it, it’s implied he hadn’t killed anyone before—or at least not in cold blood.

3. Have you even read the books? The only person who knew the Potters’ location was Peter. He’s the one who betrayed them.

4. There’s no evidence he was a racist. First off, equating racism with the concept of blood purity not only trivializes a serious social issue but also makes it clear that some of you have no idea what racism is or its history. The discriminatory dynamics and their foundations are completely different. But anyway, putting that aside, there’s no evidence whatsoever that Severus discriminated against Muggle-borns. The only time he makes a comment is during the incident with Lily—which, conveniently, happens when James and Sirius are sexually assaulting him, and Lily seems to smile at James. I don’t think you can judge someone’s ideology based on a comment made in an extremely tense moment. Canonically, Severus doesn’t treat Muggle-born students worse in class or make comments about their heritage. Nor does he badmouth Muggles. At most, he makes condescending remarks—which, let’s be real, all the characters do, even the “good ones,” because they’re ridiculously patronizing toward Muggles.

5. Severus was literally a double agent and reached the highest ranks of the Death Eaters to, yes, protect Harry. That’s literally why. He’s following Dumbledore’s orders. Like, have you read the books, or are you just pulling this stuff from fanfics? 99% of what you’ve said so far is pure fantasy, mate.

6. Yes, love, it’s actually pretty easy for me to defend people whose actions are a direct consequence of their life circumstances, and whose poor decisions were directly influenced by a lack of opportunities, security, and the violence of their environment. In fact, that’s literally my job. That’s what I do for a living.

Look, I don’t give a damn if you’re a Sirius fangirl. You can love a character while admitting he was a massive piece of crap. I love The Penguin, and there’s no way to justify him at all. Like, it’s fine, you know? You also have every right to feel sorry for him—I’m not going to judge you for that or anything. I’m not invalidating other people’s feelings if they think Sirius’s life was super tragic and feel a lot of compassion for him. Everyone has their own feelings and points of empathy. But that’s not the case for me. I don’t feel sorry for him. There’s no excuse for being an abusive bully with sociopathic tendencies toward someone who was canonically in a position of social and economic disadvantage. If Severus had come from a good family, with money and power—or if Sirius had been someone without a name, wealth, or status—then I’d view the situation differently because they would have been on equal footing. But just like the Black family chose Muggle-borns to torture because they knew they could, Sirius chose Severus because he knew he could. He’s a hypocrite and a piece of garbage. At least Bellatrix admitted her tendencies.

[asrielinfected]

New Victim

Paring: Wednesday Addams x Reader

Summary: Enid tells you about a new student that arrived to nevermore. You can’t help, but tease Wednesday, to get a reaction out of her.

Warning: Profanity

Authors note: Reader kinda likes to tease people, and I haven’t watched this show since 2022🤕

Enid(your bestfriend), and you were currently eating lunch together. You listened to Enid as she spoke about her new, odd, roommate called, Wednesday Addams.

“So, Y/N! I have this new roomie, and well, she’s quite interesting if I do say so myself,” Enid chuckled as she took another bite out of her lunch.

“What do you mean by “interesting” Enid?” You said as you made quotation marks in the air.

Enid sallowed the bite she was chewing on, and looked at you. “I mean, she’s not ordinary. And there absolutely nothing wrong with that! We all aren’t ordinary, but she’s just different in some type of way.”

You listened intently, “I somewhat understand. No need to explain any further. Also speaking of Wednesday, where is she? It’s lunch time”

“She’s probably in her dorm! She always eats in there.”

You smirked deviously

“You know what would be funny?

Enid smirked along with you

“Y/N, whatever you’re planning I’m all in for it.”

Enid was like your partner in crime.

“I should totally go and annoy, Addams!”

Enid’s smile slightly faded. “You sure that’s a good idea? Wends, is kinda intimidating,”

You rolled your eyes at your friend’s statement, “How bad can it be? Your roommate might need some company, don’t you think?”

Enid sighed “Yeah, Y/N, I’m not so sure about this.”

“Finee. I guess I’ll just do it by myself. Have fun talking to Yoko, or Ajax, or something,” You said as you got off of her seat and threw away your trash as you headed to, Ophelia Hall.

You already knew where Enid’s dorm was since you been there before, but you never had met this “Wednesday Addams” before.

You finally arrived in front of the door room. You took a deep breath in, and opened the door.

You were met with a room clearly decorated differently since the last time you been here.

You saw a short girl with braided pigtails, sitting at the black side of the room. You can’t really tell what she’s doing, but she didn’t even care to look of who just walked in.

“What is it exactly that you want.”

Wow. Enid wasn’t kidding. She was intimidating. Her voice sent shivers down your spine, but you talked to people like this. You can handle it!

“Ah, you must be the ‘Wednesday Addams’ everybody’s talking about. I’m-”

Wednesday cut you off, “I didn’t ask for a whole speech. You are yet to respond to my question.” She said with a cold voice

This bitch. How rude.

“Okay, asshole. To answer your question that you so much wanted, I was only here to be nice, and welcome you. At least I’m not the one isolating myself.”

Wednesday finally turned to look at you.

“Was your use of profanity really necessary. I also wouldn’t call it “isolating.” I prefer to be alone.”

You laughed, “Yeah, yeah whatever makes you sleep at night.”

“Actually having thoughts of people suffering makes me sleep at night. I find it quite calming,” Wednesday said without any hesitation.

Okay now you fully understand what Enid meant by, “not ordinary roommate.”

“Thanks for oversharing that even though I didn’t ask for it.”

Wednesday turned back around to her desk, and there was silence for a few minutes.

The smirk you had before when talking to Enid came back.

“You’re quite interesting, Addams. Also quite the cute one too.”

Wednesday looked back at you with an confused expression

“Was that your attempt to try, and flirt?”

You giggled as your eyes never left hers, “Perhaps. Is it working?”

She groaned out of annoyance, and got up from her chair as she stood closer to you.

“You think too low of me. Why is it your mission to go bother me.”

You took a step closer to Wednesday Addams.

“I just find teasing someone like you, entertaining.”

Wednesday would be lying if she said that the proximity of yours faces didn’t make her whole entire body turn hot.

She was usually cold

Lunch time ended some time ago so Enid walked into the room. Seeing you and Wednesday standing close to each other.

You with your signature grin and Wednesday having always that icy expression on her face.

“Guys? Is everything alright?” Enid said tilting her head.

You both went ahead and turned your heads to Enid.

You decided to speak first, “Yeah I was just heading out. I’ll catch you later, Enid and Wednesday”

You looked at Wednesday, and had a grin on your face as you left their dorm to head back to yours.

Wednesday couldn’t help but walk back over to the desk and finish whatever she was doing before she got interrupted by you.

But unfortunately, you didn’t leave her mind. Why would you even want to tease her like that. Did you not find her scary like other students do?

Feelings are Wednesday’s worst enemy.