#that this isn’t a homework assignment and it’s just for fun

[violet-knights]

Happy new years everyone my resolution is to finally finish my HALLOWEEN FIC

[victory-cookies]

I’m so tired

[solrabi]

I’m thinking about academically burnt out reader who has a fwb relationship with ex convict Sukuna.

Reader is just tired, exhausted from all the stress of assignments, homework, internship applications and has just given up. She doesn’t do anything more than just go to class, come back and sleep till she wakes up hungry. She doesn’t feel anything anymore. Depression is on the horizon.

So her friends try to get her to go out with them. They take her to a dingy house party instead of a club so she won’t have to get too dressed up.

Things are alright- her friends quickly left to be with a more fun person to drink with and her beer has her drunk enough to actually enjoy the generic pop remixes blaring from the speakers.

That is until a large man bumps into her making her spill her drink all over herself.

That was it. The final straw. The final block to be removed for the tower to fall over.

She begins to hysterically cry. This was so not her. She did not spend her Saturdays in a no-name neighborhood with beer all over her hoodie that she had been wearing for 2 days.

The large man clicks his tongue and is starting to get looks from people so he takes her upstairs to calm her down.

Anyway, he’s drunk too and one thing leads to another and she wakes up next to a shirtless and tattooed man sleeping next to her. She isn’t even wearing her hoodie; she has an oversized shirt on. Horrified, she runs away and grabs the bus back to her apartment and is freaking out, not having any recollection of what happened the night before.

She finally goes to class the next day and lo and behold, the man from the party is standing right in front of her lecture building. He asks her to return his shirt because she threw up on him and she’s relieved that they didn’t sleep together. Blah blah blah, they end up making out in his jeep and she nearly jumps in her seat after finding out that he’s an ex convict who’s pushing 30.

All she can think is this: “ew, ew, ew, this is so not me.”

It’s like everything in her life is going down hill. Bad grades, losing friends, no internships, no hobbies outside of sleeping, and the worst of all- being friends with benefits with a man who has no moral compass.

But then again he’s the only one who knows how to fuck her the way she wants.

—

ex-convict Sukuna masterlist

[chewnotchoke]

like no one else can

ೃ࿐ boynextdoor as your situationship

this was fun to write,,i was wondering if i should make individual fics abt this...what do yall think? ^__^ feedbacks and comments are appreciated ! and also my ask is always open if u wnna chitty chat <3

warnings: fluff, intense pining, light angst, signs of red flags

wc per member: ~250-400

sungho

“i’m trying to understand what am i to you?”

𓍯 situationship with sungho would be filled with a lot of "almosts" that keep you guessing, excitement, and unexpected outcomes. he would have this easygoing, carefree attitude as if he truly enjoyed your time together, but he’s also hard to pin down. he would bring you as his ‘plus one’ to parties or events and he has once invited you to a family outing “as a friend”

𓍯 sungho likes to do actions that you couldn’t help but assign meanings to these little things. he would give you a bite of his food in between laughter and throw tiny comments such as “i thought about you the other day.” the way he laughs at your jokes, recalls small details you mention, and checks up on you in between classes makes you question if he does the same with other people. if you didn't witness him opening doors for people, helping classmates with their homework, and giving the same endearing smile to anyone in need, it would be quite easy to convince yourself that the things he did to you meant something.

𓍯 when you mention being cold, he casually throws his hoodie over your shoulders and says, "just give it back whenever." yet it stays with you for days and he doesn't bring it up either, as if sharing his hoodie has become a relationship between you two. but when you decide to give it back, your heart aches to see another girl wearing his hoodie.

𓍯 the combination of highs and unanswered questions would be thrilling, and his charm would entice you to return for more. but the question “what am i to you” hangs in the open air because then, if you really meant something to him, he wouldn’t have treated others the same way he did to you.

𓍯 was it mutual at some point? maybe, or maybe not.

riwoo

“i know it’s casual but i look for you in a room full of people”

𓍯 likes having alone time with you. plans a hang out with your friends to watch a movie but the truth is he didn't invite anyone else just so he could watch the movie and spend time alone together. at the end of the movie, you'd just be wiping off your lips because you spent the whole time making out.

𓍯 situationship with riwoo is almost like a secret. he knows how to pull you towards him, and the relationship has you on chokehold. most of the time, he makes moves that make you question the very foundation of your relationship. he acts like he likes you. but does he actually do?

𓍯 during a chill drinking celebration at your friends' house, both of you always find a reason to text each other even if you're literally in the same room. that one time when you were seated a little too far from him, he pulls out his phone, typing under the table making sure no one gets a peak of his message, he would send you, "you're too far from me :(" it seems as though the thread that binds you is stronger than everything else, and every communication feels like a secret that only the two of you know. you'd look up from your phone to give him a glance and he gives you a subtle look—the look that even when you try to look away, you could feel his eyes settled on you.

𓍯 his red flag would probably be saying things like, "would you be jealous if i went out with someone else?" or talking about his ex. but right when he gives you enough reasons that he's not good for you, he pulls the "what would it take for us to stop pretending this isn’t more than casual?" card.

jaehyun

“you say we’re just friends but why do you look at me like that when no one’s around?”

𓍯 when you clearly don’t look like you’re just friends but it’s becoming a running joke now–jaehyun responds without skipping a beat whenever someone arches an eyebrow and asks if there is more going on between you and him. he casually replies, “we’re just friends.” and each time you force a smile that falls short of your eyes, you nod along.

𓍯 jaehyun has this habit of leaning towards you whenever he laughs, sometimes his head falls on your shoulder for a moment which kinda makes you flinch during the first few times but now that you’re used to it, you let your heads touch each other when you laugh together.

𓍯 when he spots you alone leaning outside the glass door at a party, you feel his presence slowly approaching you and then he simply stands there in comforting silence, staring at you in that familiar way, without saying anything at first. when you told him that you get more comfortable attending parties because he’s around, he’d flash a smirk, and his eyes return to the expression he always gives you when no one else is there. jaehyun looks intensely at your face as if he’s searching for something–searching for a sign.

𓍯 you can’t resist yourself to ask him a question if he’s sure about it. “sure about what?” his tone is gentle, and the corner of his mouth twitches as if he clearly understands what you are saying. “sure that we’re just friends…” you replied. jaehyun pauses before responding. he just looks at you, his eyes darting to your lips and back to your eyes, a spark there that he tries to conceal but can't quite get rid of. he lets out a tense and nervous laugh. “yeah, we’re just friends.” but his words were laced with hesitation and uncertainty. and there you thought, maybe the look he gives you is enough, for now.

taesan

“you treat me like this because you know you're my weakness.”

𓍯 taesan knows how flustered you get when he touches you. during lunchtime with your other friends, you tried to ignore how he sat closer to you than usual. when your friends make a joke and others laugh along, you try so hard to focus but you just can’t seem to grasp the fact that his knees and yours were touching. then, his fingertips lightly touched your leg, so gentle at first that you nearly questioned whether it was an accident. however, taesan’s hand becomes steady and warm, and you can only sense his calm presence. you attempt to maintain a neutral appearance on the outside as your heart twitches and your mind attempts to process the unexpected sensation. his smile is as laid-back as ever, and he continues to laugh with the group as if this is nothing unusual.

𓍯 situationship with taesan can be a little frustrating. he likes to give you mixed signals. he’s mostly all about you most of the time and he holds eye contact like you’re the only person he could see. but then the next day, he barely acknowledges your presence. he’s quiet and doesn’t speak to you. but you know what’s bad for you? the fact that you'd fold immediately bcs he really just knows how to give you butterflies right when you think he’s not interested. taesan would come up behind you, whispering to your ear saying, “i missed you today.” and you would quickly fold like you didn't just question everything about him.

𓍯 at some point, the feelings were mutual. but you got tired of going around in circles waiting for nothing to happen, so you just decided to move on and bury your feelings just to keep the friendship.

leehan

“teach me how to not care about these feelings that keep me up at night for nothing.”

𓍯 you don’t talk everyday but that’s what makes everything thrilling. and when you do talk, texting usually lasts until 3am. although you can feel the weight of your eyelids by this time, you try to stay awake just to converse with him. conversations with leehan are almost raw, something about each message is intimate—one you probably wouldn’t hear in the daylight. the thought that he actually also stays up with you makes you wonder how much he’s also feeling.

𓍯 leehan has the subtlest way of making you laugh. he’s nonchalant but he’s the type to make you intrigued without fully committing. with that being said, he knows when to pull back when he thinks you’re getting a little too attached over a situationship even if he's the one responsible for making you feel that way

𓍯 after dates, goodbyes often linger in the air. both of you enjoyed too much to actually walk away and go back home. when he stands close enough to hug you, you could feel his hand linger on your back like he’s in no rush to go back home. both of you stood there quiet, glancing at each other, enough to decipher by the look of your eyes that there are still unsaid words. “i’ll text you when i get back home.” he holds both of your hands as they slightly brush away from yours whenever he takes a step back. you know yourself you want something more from this situationship which causes your heart to ache.

𓍯 leehan is still not letting go of your hand even at the point where your fingertips are only touching each other. “let’s do that next time.” he says and adds, “sleep over.”

𓍯 and when he actually gets back home, you don't receive a text from him at all, and talked again the following days like nothing happened.

woonhak

"why does it feel like we’re both waiting for the other to make the first move?"

𓍯 it’s painfully obvious that both of you like each other. neither of you just couldn’t bring yourself up to confess. there’s always this tension that hangs heavy in the air when you’re with him. you're lounging on his couch while watching a film. with his shoulder almost touching yours, he is closer than friends should be. the couch's modest size is a flimsy excuse, but you both know there's more to it. woonhak’s arm occasionally moves, grazing yours and giving you a shiver, but he doesn't pull away. both of you are dancing around that invisible line, on the brink. his hand is getting closer and closer till your fingers would touch if you both moved even a little.

𓍯 every time you're together, you experience this torturous pulling, waiting for the other to finally release the tension that has been building for weeks. his hand moves next to yours, his fingers flexing as though he wants to grab you but isn't quite brave enough. and you can't help but wonder whether you're both simply waiting for a sign, anything that would eventually allow one of you to cross that line.

𓍯 woonhak constantly teases you, looking for excuses to rub your hair or bump into your shoulder, and he enjoys seeing how you respond to his pranks. he says something, though, that takes you entirely by surprise just when you think it's all a friendly act.

𓍯 “i feel like we’re both good at being complicated.” he chuckles. you can sense that you're both still holding back and skirting the truth because you're afraid of altering something that feels so near-perfect. but when you meet his eyes, you can see that this isn't the end of it because of the little warmth that remains in his smile.

[grlsinterrupted]

hiiiiiii! Can you please do a ponyboy x soc reader but only johnny knows that they're dating and he accidentally lets it slip to the gang while pony and she are out on a date. And then the boys go and crash the date and tease them but soda is lowk so excited and proud

romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone ₊˚⊹ᰔ

your date with pony gets crashed ! | ponyboy curtis x soc ! reader ˎˊ˗

-

as a soc, you were expected to maintain your image by following an abundance of rules set by your parents— the most enforced one being to avoid greasers at all costs. these expectations have been engraved into your mind since the day you were born, not only by your parents, but by your peers as well, neither of whom you understood. if anything, you found it ironic how greasers were labeled ‘reckless troublemakers’ while your friends were shotgunning beers every friday night and jumping any greaser they stumbled across.

in all fairness, you were nothing like the people you surrounded yourself with. in fact, you began to grow fond of a greaser by the name of ponyboy curtis. the two of you shared an interest for poetry and watching the sunset. as your friendship grew stronger over time, so did your feelings for him. he definitely wasn’t what you’d expected from a greaser— sure, he was quite impulsive, but you appreciated his sensitivity and his love for the simpler things in life. he was smart, too. admittedly, you often found yourself asking him for help on your homework assignments. it wasn’t long before the two of you started dating. though it was difficult sneaking in and out of such a highly secured house, you’d risk anything for even just a few minutes with pony. these secret dates were to be kept between three people and three people only: you, pony, and his best friend, johnny.

while you and pony are at the dingo, the rest of the gang is at the curtis house. no one knows of pony’s whereabouts aside from johnny.

soda’s eyes dart around the room, looking for any sign of his little brother. “where’s pony gone off to?”

two-bit scratches his nape, shrugging. “beats me.”

without thinking, johnny blurts out a reply. “pony and y/n are on a da-“ johnny pauses, clearing his throat and praying that no one heard his slip up.

dallas nearly spits out his water, his eyes widening at johnny’s answer. “wait, wait- you talkin’ ‘bout soc y/n?”

“god.. what has pony gotten himself into..?” darry huffs out a sigh, rubbing his temples and shaking his head. though he seems disappointed, soda, on the other hand, applauds pony.

“i guess he learned a thing or two from me,” soda winks, running a hand through his greased hair. “soon enough, the ladies will be all over him.”

two-bit chuckles. “who knew socs were so into pone?”

steve scoffs, shoving his hands into his denim vest. “but of all people, why woulda soc pick him?”

johnny anxiously begins to bite the inside of lips as he inches away from the rest of the gang, embarrassed at himself for letting a secret slip out in such a stupid way.

dal screws the cap of his water bottle on. “y’know, i’ve got an idea,” he steps forward, motioning for the rest of the gang to come closer. “i say we crash his date. ain’t no harm in a little fun.”

the dingo’s always been chaotic— not that it was out of your nature, but there was always a fight going on outside, the screams muffled beneath the jukebox blasting elvis presley. while you and pony are trying to enjoy your dinner, customers are spinning all around the restaurant and dancing along to the music. you’re practically drowning in a sea of leather jackets and greased hair.

you pick at the undercooked burger in front of you, offering pony a reluctant smile. the music was beginning to overwhelm you, and the disgusting food wasn’t helping your situation at all.

“it’s pretty loud in here, isn’t it?”

pony nods, taking a bite out of his fry. “didn’t think it’d be so packed tonight,” he mutters under his breath. “why don’t we go somewhere quiet after dinner? somewhere we can be alone.”

your lips quirk up into a soft grin at his suggestion. “that sounds good! we could-“

before you finish your sentence, you’re interrupted by the sound of someone calling your boyfriend’s name.

“POOOONYYYY, OH LOVER BOYYY!” two-bit storms into the dingo, the rest of the gang following behind him. he approaches pony, twirling his invisible strands of hair like a little girl.

soda lightly nudges your shoulder, a proud smirk across his face. “pony-kid’s a real dreamboat, ain’t he?”

dallas pockets his hands. “y’all had your first kiss yet?”

you peer over dallas’ shoulder, spotting johnny. he’s looking down, very obviously avoiding eye contact with you. you then turn your head back to pony, raising a brow. was this all a set up? did johnny intentionally tell pony’s friends that the two of you were on a date? what the hell was even going on??

pony slouches down from his seat, his head in his hands concealing the red flush washing over his cheeks. of course, he knew the rest of the gang was bound to find out about his relationship with you— he just didn’t think it’d be this way.

‘romeo, take me somewhere we can be alone.. i’ll be waiting, all there’s left to do is run’ .ᐟ ₊˚⊹♡

-

[sincerestlove]

Girl Crush

hello hello hello! i am so sorry for the long break - but i'm so happy to be back! i hope you all are doing well. i have quite a few requests sitting in my drafts, so once i get through those, i am happy to reopen my inbox for requests, if you guys want. anyway, these 3 requests were quite similar to each other, so it just made sense to combine them into one fic. hope you enjoy!

Request: Hi! Can i request a reader x Regina George where the reader is super oblivious to Regina flirting and thinks she's just being really friendly and it's obvious to everyone but the reader how in love Regina is with her.

Request: can you do a regina george x reader fic where R is literally the only person in the school who isn’t afraid of regina in the slightest and just treats her like a normal person (bonus points if the reader is just an oblivious ball of sunshine)

Request: hiii :) i was wondering if you could maybe write a regina x reader fanfic where the reader is friends with karen since they share a class together. regina ends up developing a crush and u can finish the rest lol (maybe incorporate karen inviting the reader to sit with the plastics at lunch as she’s walking by without consulting with regina first?)

Pairing: Regina George x Reader

Warnings: None

~

Math class dragged on, the teacher talking animatedly about something you couldn't bother paying attention to. Your class bestie, Karen, was seated beside you, taking notes diligently for a reason you couldn't fathom. It was quite endearing how she actually cared about her grades and education, despite the fact that she was a Plastic. Not that you thought of her, or any of the Plastics differently. After all, they were just normal people.

Pretty, rich, popular, normal people.

The bell rang after what felt like forever, signaling the end of class. You began packing up your things, when you felt a gentle tap on your shoulder. You glanced over, to see Karen grinning at you brightly. "Hey, Y/N. You want to sit with me at lunch today?"

You blinked, momentarily stunned at her question. "You mean, like, at your table?"

Karen laughed loudly, her straight, pearly white teeth on display. "Yes, Y/N. Come on, it'll be fun! Please?" The brunette pouts, batting her long eyelashes at you pleadingly. She was so sweet, you would feel bad saying no. Plus, it wasn't like you really had anywhere else to be.

You groan, reluctantly agreeing, to which Karen squeals excitedly. "Yay, yay, yay!" She grabs your arm and loops it with hers as you toss your backpack over your shoulder, dragging you out into the hallway and into the massive rush of students. Karen expertly weaves you both through the crowd until the cafeteria is in sight.

As Karen tugs you toward the Plastics' table, your eyes land on Regina George, staring down at her phone - long, blonde hair fell across her strong, exposed shoulders, clad in a tight-fitting tank top and high-waisted jeans. Her nails were perfectly manicured, pretty golden rings adorning her fingers with a necklace to match.

God, how did she always look so pretty?

"Hi, Regina!" Karen plops herself down next to the blonde, as you slink into the bench across from her. Regina finally tears her eyes away from her phone and instantly land on you.

"Um. What are you doing?" She raises an eyebrow at you accusingly. You knew she didn't mean to be rude, just surprised that you were here, since usually you would skip lunch in the cafeteria and opt for the library instead, to complete homework assignments while you ate. It was quieter and less crowded, too. Not to mention the librarian loved you.

Sometimes Regina would even surprise you in the library, asking you to help her with her homework or claiming that she was bored and wanted someone to talk to.

You smile at her, placing your backpack down at your feet. "Hey, Regina. Karen invited me to sit here today."

Regina clenches her jaw, her eyes icy as she turns over to the brunette, who grins at Regina innocently. They exchanged glances, expressions filled with something that you couldn't quite decipher. You sat there in awkward silence as they glared at each other, Karen smiling teasingly at the blonde. "If you don't want me to sit here I can go-"

"No!" Regina speaks hurriedly, grabbing your hand as it reached for your backpack. You raised your brows at the unexpected contact, staring down at her hand wrapped around your wrist. She quickly released it, a light pink hue dusting her cheeks. "I mean, it's fine, you don't have to leave. Karen just didn't mention it to me, that's all."

You steal a glance at Karen, who simply smiled at you, as if she knew something you didn't. She began to talk to the pair of you excitedly about something - you couldn't really pay attention because you felt Regina's eyes burning holes in the side of your head. You could practically feel her eyes drag down your frame, taking in every little minute detail of your face. After a few minutes, Gretchen arrived at the table, pressing a kiss to Karen's cheek as she did so.

She greeted you kindly, already knowing you from the classes you shared together and how much Karen talked about you. The couple exchanged a knowing glance, before excusing themselves to the lunch line. Which left you alone at the table. With Regina.

"So, Regina," You turn to look at her, meeting her pretty hazel eyes that were already looking at you. She smiled at you teasingly, tilting her head as she awaited your question. "How's your day going?"

Regina rolled her eyes, leaning her chin on her hand as she leaned closer to you. "That's the best you got? Come on, I know a pretty girl like you can spark a more interesting conversation with me."

You laughed lightly at her joke, thinking nothing of the little compliment thrown in. "Well, we saw each other a few periods ago. And, I do actually want to know how your day is going."

The blonde huffed but caved, beginning to talk about her first half of the day, which consisted of complaining to her teachers, pretending to pay attention in class, and judging the fashion choices of her classmates. All normal Regina George behavior for a Tuesday.

You listened to her intently, watching the way she gestured with her hands and tossed her hair over her shoulder every so often. You were so attentive that you hadn't noticed Karen and Gretchen returning to the table, staring at the two of you with satisfied smirks.

"How about you, nerd? How has your morning been? Don't tell me Karen was bothering you again in class." Regina nudges your foot under the table, poking her tongue out at the brunette whose jaw was dropped incredulously.

"I do not bother her! She is my math class bestie, isn't that right, Y/N?"

You laugh along with the group, reassuring Karen that she was your class bestie, too. Regina excused herself from the table; you eyes follow her as she walks toward the lunch line, her hips swaying in those tight jeans. She glances over her shoulder, catching you staring, throwing you a wink and a smile. You felt your skin flush a little, clearing your throat and turning back to the other two girls.

They were already looking at you and smirking, again.

"What is up with you two today?"

"Who, us?" Gretchen places a hand over her heart dramatically. "What so ever do you mean, Y/N?"

You roll your eyes at the redhead, a playful smile dancing on your lips. "You know exactly what I mean. You two, with your little smirks and smiles. What are you two doing?"

Karen shrugs innocently. "Oh, nothing. Just observing, that's all."

You raise a brow at her. "Observing what?"

"Regina-"

Karen is interrupted by the blonde returning to the table, silently sliding a full tray of food across to you, as she sits down with her own. You look up at her in shock, your mouth slightly hanging open.

Regina looks around at the three of you as she takes a bite of her food. "What?"

The couple raise their hands in mock surrender, as you look at Regina with soft eyes. "Thanks, Regina. You didn't have to do this." The blonde shrugs, gesturing with her chin for you to eat.

"No biggie."

It was a biggie, a huge one, actually. Karen and Gretchen had never seen Regina be as nice to anyone like she was toward you. She would bring you your favorite coffee order in the mornings on her way to school, since you two shared first period, then walk you to your second. She kept a bag of your favorite snack in her locker in case you texted her, complaining about being hungry. Not to mention, she had a photo of your class schedule on her phone in case of emergencies. All unbeknownst to you, of course. To put it simply, the blonde had a massive crush on you. Meanwhile, you just thought she was being nice.

Karen and Gretchen both knew, though, of course, having heard Regina complain for months about how much she liked you, how you were her first ever girl crush, and she felt like she was going insane. You were way too oblivious to realize that she had literally been flirting with you, every time she saw you. She'd throw in compliments, brush against you, tuck a strand of hair behind your ear, sometimes even hold your hand as to "not lose you in the crowd". She really just wanted to find an excuse to touch you.

Regina felt like she was losing her mind waiting for you to notice. At this point, she would have to sit you down, look you square in the eyes and straight up tell you that she likes you. She was worried that even then, you'd think she was just being nice.

You, on the other hand, have had a crush on Regina since last year. The first time Karen introduced you to her, you were a goner. You decided to bury it though - you knew she could never reciprocate feelings for someone like you: reserved, quiet, shy. She was the total opposite, and you assumed she would want someone who was more like her.

Sure, she was extremely nice to you and sort of mean to everyone else, but that's just because you two were somewhat friends.

"Y/N? Hello?" You were snapped out of your thoughts by long fingers waggling in your face, Regina looking at you with furrowed brows. "You okay?"

You swallowed the lump in your throat, nodding and shooting her a weak smile. "Yeah, sorry, I'm fine. Was just thinking about something." You finished eating your lunch as the three girls chatted amongst themselves, Regina stealing glances at you occasionally. You smiled at her, more reassuringly this time, which eases her posture a little bit.

The bell rings much too soon this time, disappointed groans echoing throughout the room as students begin to file out and toward their next class. The four of you do the same, Regina taking your tray and returning it to the trash area before you could protest. Karen and Gretchen wiggle their eyebrows at you before hugging you goodbye, waving at Regina as she returned to the table with you.

"Let's go, I'll walk you to class." Regina took your hand in hers, lacing your fingers together and tugging you along. You just managed to grab your backpack as you stumbled behind her, shuffling to catch up with her long strides. As soon as she turned into the hallway, students parted like the red sea, making a clear path for the two of you to walk. You couldn't help but flush at the feeling of everyone's eyes on you, staring you down as you inched every so closer to Regina.

"Aren't you going to be late? It's fine, Gina, I can-"

The blonde stopped dead in her tracks. "What did you call me?"

You felt yourself pale, silently cursing yourself for the mistake. You hadn't meant to call her that out loud - you knew how angry she got when people called her outside of her name. You cringed, waiting for her to lash out at you, but it never came.

You stole a quick glance at the blonde, who was already looking at you with soft eyes. "I'm not mad, nerd. Just surprised. You've never called me that before."

You stammered, trying to find words. "Sorry, yeah, I just...I think it's a cute nickname for you."

The blonde smirked at your nervousness, once again tugging you along with her to your class. "It is a cute nickname. Just like you."

You feel yourself smile at the compliment - Regina was just so sweet to you. "Thanks, Gina."

The hallways were mostly clear now, aside from a few students scurrying to their classes at the last minute. Regina stopped walking again, turning to look at you with her brows scrunched together. "Does your brain work?"

You looked at her, dumbfounded. "I...what?"

She simply stared at you, crossing her arms over her chest. "Your brain. Does it work? Is it on?"

You were genuinely speechless, failing to find any words to respond. Regina rolled her eyes, tugging you into the empty locker room. She sat you down on the bench before sitting herself beside you, leaning toward you. "Seriously, Y/N, do you have a concussion or something?"

You laughed incredulously. "Regina, what are you talking about?"

The blonde groaned, exasperated. "I have been flirting with you for months, Y/N. Months! Yet, you walk around, la-di-da, as if I'm just being friendly. When have you ever seen me be nice to anyone?"

Your mouth drops open at her words, opening and closing like a fish out of water. "You...what?"

"Oh my god, Y/N, I like you, okay! I have a big, fat, lesbian crush on you. I have for months."

"No you don't."

Regina sputters out a laugh. "Y/N, you're joking, right? I literally just told you that I do."

You frown, looking down at your hands. "I...no. You can't like someone like me." Your voice grows small, nails beginning to pick at the hangnails.

"Hey," Regina scooted closer to you, cupping your face in her warm hand. She brushed her thumb over your cheek, bright eyes gazing into yours with conviction. "Don't talk down about yourself. Yeah, you might be a nerd, but that's part of the reason why I like you, Y/N. I like that we are opposites in a lot of ways. If I was with some bitch like me, I'd go nuts."

You laugh lightly at her words, leaning your weight into her touch. "Stop, you're not a bitch. And I like you too, Gina. I have for a long time, actually. I'm surprised Karen hasn't told you."

Regina laughs, using her other hand to grab your hip and tug you closer to her. "That girl can keep one hell of a secret. I think her little lunch invitation today was her way of telling me to go for it." Her hand tightens on your hip just barely, her eyes flicking across your face. "Would you slap me right now if I kissed you?"

You roll your eyes, resting your hands on her bare shoulders. "No, Gina. You can kiss me."

The blonde smiles and does just that. Her nose brushes against yours, warm breath fanning across your lips as she meets them with her own, softly, sweetly.

After a beat, you both pull away, resting your foreheads together and sharing a smile. "Can I take you out this weekend?"

You nod, brushing a strand of her soft blonde hair behind her ear. "Duh."

~

i hope you enjoyed this one! my goal is to continue posting regularly, so please keep an eye out for more fics coming soon :)

[ghostgirl-22]

love your writing 🥵

why is there a criminal lack of artrick rimming fics? do you know of any at all? there is so much tongue action too

Okay wait… you’re so right actually

—-

Art always takes a bath on Sunday nights. He spends an hour in the bathroom playing music lounging in the bathtub. When he gets out his skin is flushed and his fingers are pruny and he’s drying his blonde curls with towel while bending over barely covered to pick out his clothes. It’s so fucking distracting it’s a wonder Patrick ever gets any homework done.

This particular Sunday they don’t have school or even practice the next day. It’s Veterans Day or Memorial Day or whichever one’s in November…he always gets confused. And Art still bent in half over his dresser isn’t helping matters.

Patrick sighs. “Hey c’mere,” he says pushing his notebook to the side, fuck it, his English teacher thinks he has ADD anyway.

Art stands up and looks at him. “Do you have my Ramones t shirt still?”

“Probably. Come here.”

“Did you ever wash it?” Art demands walking to where he’s sitting at his desk.

“Probably not. Hey so there’s this thing…this kiss…I want to try it with Madison but I’m scared I’m not gonna be good at it.” Patrick says carefully.

Art nods his head all seriously like he’s just been handed a fun homework assignment, his eyes light up and he licks his lips. Patrick knows he’s probably more intrigued by the idea that it’s something new and Patrick’s admitting he’s not good at it.

“Can we…you know… try it first?”

“Yeah sure,” Art says. It’s Sunday but it’s not a normal Sunday.

“Okay, can we do it now?”

Art looks over at his clothes folded on the bed. He’s so meticulous and neat. But Patrick is an animal and his favorite project is finding new ways to make a mess out of him.

“It’s gonna take like five minutes,” Patrick says, standing up and pulling him towards his own bed. “Can I kiss you?”

Art nods his head. “Okay…yeah sure.” He says allowing himself to be led with reluctant curiosity.

They approach the foot of his bed and Patrick walks behind him. ”Like this…” he says wrapping his arms around Arts firm waist from behind. He presses himself against the swell off his ass and watches Art swallow as he leans in. Art closes his eyes and pouts his lips. Patrick can’t resist… he gives him a peck on the lips and then sinks to his knees behind him.

He eases the towel up Arts thighs.

“Patrick, what are you—” Art says anxiously attempting to turn around.

“Shh. Stay still. Five minutes.”

“I thought you said you wanted to kiss—”

“Yeah a kiss, it’s a little kiss. Can you relax?” Patrick says distractedly looking over Art's bottom. He feels himself getting hard. Art has the perfect ass. Patrick’s missed more than a few shots on the court because of it. He’s spent hours and hours touching himself thinking about pressing his cock inside it.

He kisses one cheek and Art takes a breath. “Patrick you can’t…” He whispers.

“I know,” Patrick sighs and kisses him again and then gently spreads him apart and licks at the perfect pink pucker right in the center. He teases his tongue along the outside…kissing him slowly. It feels better than he imagined.

Art makes a strangled sound and tries to pull away but Patrick follows him. “Please, please lemme kiss you, one kiss, one filthy kiss.” He begs as Art climbs on the bed.

Art whines, “Patrick please— I—I’m gonna—“ his voice is pitched entirely different and his cock is full already, he’s even started dripping. And that’s when Patrick realizes this is a thing.

“It’s okay,” Patrick breathes trying to reconcile this. “It’s okay if you—” he’s not sure what he’s saying anymore. His heads gone fuzzy, his heartbeat’s in his ears drowning out the low volume of the classic rock station playing on the clock radio. Patrick gets behind Art on the bed and starts again, first slowly, then recklessly, pushing his tongue in and out. Licking and sucking like it might go away if he doesn’t get to it fast enough.

“Oh my fucking god,” Art cries. He’s gripping the sheets, knuckles white, helpless little sounds spilling from his lips. He starts shivering, whining, moaning like the girls do on the choppy videos they find on the internet late at night before deleting their search history.

Patrick’s gripping his waist, holding him tight so he can’t leave again. Probably too tight but he’s so fucking lost he’s barely aware of it till Art starts coming. Messy and wet all over Patrick’s bed sheets.

Patrick makes himself stop and licks his lips, wiping his mouth with his wrist. “God you’re so… fucking… sensitive,” Patrick gasps and Art just groans, collapsing on the bed.

Patrick doesn’t need much to bring himself over the edge. Just Art splayed on the bed in front of him all apart, flushed beautifully, breathing heavy, towel barely covering him, jizz still dripping down between thighs. He’s probably ruined this forever because he’s always gonna be thinking of Art. How he looks, how he sounds, how he feels, how he tastes. Patrick loses it all over him, spilling on his stomach, adding to the mess between his legs.

“Fuck,” Patrick breathes.

Art shivers. “You’re so—“ he pushes himself up on his elbows, “Now I have to get in the shower again.”

Patrick huffs a laugh. “I have to change my sheets.” He sighs and dips his finger tip into the pool of come on Arts thighs and tastes it.

“You’re so gross,” Art whispers and he bites his lip.

“And you love it,” Patrick points out.

Arts blushing and he flops back on the bed and covers his face with his arms. “If my mom ever found out I let you…”

“Well I’m certainly not gonna tell her.”

“Yeah but… but now I’ll know and you’ll know and I’m not gonna be able to…” he rubs his eyes and takes a deep breath. “It’s so…dirty.”

“Relax. Go shower again and it’ll all go away… like I never even did it I promise.”

“I really hate you,” Art says and Patrick grins at him.

“Yeah I know, I love you too.”

[academiclifexd]

Finding Your Balance: Academic life and Everything in Between.

School isn’t just about projects, exams, and assignments. It’s also about exploring passions, joining clubs, making friends, and discovering what truly excites you. Whether it’s sports, music, student government, or volunteering, extracurricular activities add color to academic life. But let’s be real, balancing schoolwork and activities can feel overwhelming. The key? Finding the right rhythm so you can excel in both without feeling pressured.

Why Balance Matters?

Balancing academics and extracurriculars isn’t just about keeping your grades up while having fun. It teaches essential life skills, including:

• Time Management – Learning to prioritize tasks helps prepare you for college, work, and other things.

• Personal Growth – Extracurriculars help build leadership, teamwork, and creativity.

• Stress Relief – Activities you enjoy can be a great escape from academic pressure.

How to Manage It All

1. Know Your Priorities

Not all activities carry the same weight. Academics should come first, but extracurriculars can complement your learning. Decide what’s most important to you and organize your time properly.

2. Make a Schedule

Use a planner, calendar, or even an app to track deadlines, exam dates, and activity schedules. A structured routine helps you stay on top of everything without last-minute stress.

3. Don’t Overload Yourself

It’s easy to want to join every club or team, but spreading yourself too much can lead to burnout. Pick activities that genuinely interest you and align with your goals.

4. Use Your Time Wisely

Waiting for a ride? Review your notes. Have a free period? Get a head start on homework. Small pockets of time can make a big difference when used effectively.

5. Stay Organized

Keep track of assignments, deadlines, and schedules so nothing gets forgotten. A tidy workspace can also improve focus and productivity.

6. Learn to Say No

If your schedule is getting overwhelming, it’s okay to step back. Prioritizing your mental health and well-being is just as important as excelling in school and activities.

7. Ask for Help When You Need It

Whether it’s a teacher, leader, or family member, don’t hesitate to reach out if you’re feeling stressed or struggling to keep up. Support from others can make a big difference.

Balancing school and extracurricular activities isn’t always easy, but with the right mindset and strategies, it’s absolutely possible. It’s not just about managing time, it’s about making the most of your academic journey while enjoying the experiences that shape who you are. So go ahead, chase your dreams, and find the balance that works for you!

[whygalaxy]

HII!!! I AM A BIG FAN OF YOUR FANFICS!!, I want to make a small request (if possible) I need one Quackity headcanons with a female reader who has TDA and who does very poorly in high school (preferably in mathematics and physics) WOULD BE THE PERSON HAPPIER IF YOU DO SOME HEADCANONS LIKE THIS!!😭😭😭

Studies

♡⃕ Relacionamento} Quackity x TDA/ADHD!Fem!Reader

♡⃕ Summary} "Quackity helping you with school since you can't pay attention"

♡⃕ Notas}  Inglês não é minha primeira língua, pode haver erros. Peço desculpas por qualquer coisa. Como uma pessoa que tem TDAH, eu realmente me identifiquei com essa fic, espero que gostem

♡⃕ Alexis has a knack for turning everything into a joke, but his humor is a way to help you relax. If you're stressed about your math homework, he'll say, "We got it! If not, we'll make up our own numbers. What's a 'seven' anyway?"

♡⃕ He's great at dispelling his frustration with silly comments, making sure you don't feel overwhelmed.

♡⃕ He knows traditional methods don’t work for you, so he comes up with creative ways to help. He might turn math problems into a game, like using songs to remember formulas or drawing goofy characters next to equations.

♡⃕ If he notices you're distracted, he'll give you little "brain breaks" and even tell you a funny story to keep the mood light.

♡⃕ He’s endlessly patient with your struggles. When you say, “I can’t do this,” he responds with, “You can, but the universe just wants to make it a bit of a challenge so you can flex on everyone later.”

♡⃕ He celebrates even small victories. Solved a single problem after work? “Honey, we need to frame this spreadsheet!”

♡⃕ He’s willing to learn alongside you if he doesn’t understand the math either. “Alright, let’s both be clueless. At least we’ll be clueless together!” He’ll Google explanations, watch videos, or ask others until he finds a way to make it click for you.

♡⃕ Alexis shares stories about times he struggled with something, making you feel less alone. “I once failed a math test so badly, I just wrote, ‘Pi is tasty,’ and handed it in. So trust me, you’re already doing better than me.”

♡⃕ When he notices you getting restless or distracted, he’ll gently suggest a break. “Come on, math can wait five minutes. Let’s go for a walk or do something fun — then we’ll get this problem over with.”

♡⃕ If you’re ready to give up, he’ll make dramatic declarations like, “This math test thinks it can defeat my girl? Nope, not on my watch!” It’s cheesy but effective in lifting your spirits.

♡⃕ He never makes you feel bad about your ADD/ADHD. If you start an assignment but forget halfway through or lose track of your study plan, he laughs it off with a simple, "Same. My brain is like a pinball machine, too."

♡⃕ After tough study sessions, he’ll surprise you with your favorite snacks or take you out for a fun activity as a reward. “You just battled algebra for two hours. Time to celebrate with ice cream. You earned it.”

♡⃕ Quackity is your biggest cheerleader. Whether you ace a test or barely pass, he’s there reminding you that your worth isn’t defined by grades. “Who cares if math doesn’t love you back? I do, and that’s all that matters.”

<3

[yeagerfate]

YELLOW MORNINGS

Summary: Your parents make you ride on the bus on the first day at your new highschool. You soon realize that this bus is full of both kids you’re scared of and want to be friends with. Who’s on it, and what are they like? + Headcanons on what they’re like in school.

Warnings: None. This is fluff and slight crack! Also, reader is a minor in this and Miguel’s is platonic since he’s a grown ass adult and reader’s 15. (Every other character in this is assumed to be either 15 or 16.) Additionally, the sketchbook thing mentioned in Miles’ is a true story. That actually happened at my school LMFAO

Characters: Miguel O’Hara, Miles Morales (Earth-1610), Hobie Brown, Gwen Stacy, Pavitr Prabhakar, and Gabriela O’Hara gets her own little feature in Miguel’s.

Notes: I’m a bit nervous for how this’ll go, but I’m excited for its reception, since I don’t think I’ve ever seen anyone write this before. Anyways, thank you guys so much for all the love on my posts. From the bottom of my heart it means so so much to me. I have always loved writing, but it’s a hobby I’m really shy about. Your support really helps me come out of my shell more, which is greatly appreciated. You all are awesome and I love being in this fandom so much. It is so so much fun!

MIGUEL O’HARA

is the angry bus driver that beeps at you four times despite you walking towards the bus in his direct line of sight. He says “good morning” to you in a gruff, tired voice and tells you to just sit down and not cause trouble. As you walk in the aisle of the bus, you can see his daughter in the front seat right behind his, wearing the school uniform for the private elementary school down the street from your high school. She’s sipping on apple juice while holding a bag of chocolate chip mini muffins, staring out the window blankly. When he drops you off at the high school, he tells you to stay out of trouble. The questioning look you give him makes him sigh exasperatedly before telling you to have a good day. Maybe he isn’t so bad?

MILES MORALES

Is staring at the black sketchbook in his hands thoughtfully before he makes eye contact with you. He smiles politely and waves at you, but doesn’t say anything else. When you sit with him, he places the sketchbook on his lap and asks your name. He seems grateful for your presence and tells you it’s been ages since someone new has been assigned to this particular bus. Suddenly, he asks you for your schedule, and is elated when he sees you have biology class together. Though, he lets out a pitiful sigh when he sees who you have for Algebra II. “Good luck with her,” Miles says. “She took away my sketchbook last year because she thought it was a phone.” Miles is always asking you to go to his basketball games on the weekends. He’ll even give you his jersey to wear to cheer him on. Also, if you ever need help on homework, he’s your guy. Especially if it’s math related.

HOBIE BROWN

Has his expensive looking Sony headphones on, and his foot is bouncing to the beat of the song he’s listening to. He nods at you, and waves you over once he sees that all the other seats are taken. You are taken aback by his eccentric fashion style. He asks if you’re new. When you say yes, he tells you which teachers to specifically avoid. The next day, he brings in his earbuds so you both can listen to his music. Hobie is always snacking on the bus, and makes sure to bring you some food too, even if you already have some. Gets yelled at by Miguel for not sitting in his seat (He’s just tall. He does sit.) Even though he’s pretty much always a respectful student, he repeatedly arrives on the bus with detention slips for shadow boxing. Also got suspended for a week for piercing people’s noses in the bathrooms during third period. Oh well!

GWEN STACY

Is quietly scrolling on her phone before she makes eye contact with you. She’s the only other girl in the back of the bus, so you decide to sit with her. Gwen seems shy, so you are the one to make conversation. You quickly find out that she’s a catcher on the softball team and is in a band with Hobie, the kid in the seat next to yours. Gwen informs you of all of the school’s drama from the year before, including the time she got an ISS for giving girls ibuprofen for their period cramps. Regardless of this, she tells you, “I still have it in my bag. If you need it, just ask.” She also sends you the quizlets she makes for the Spanish class you have together. Frequently, Gwen gives you gum, but it is a silent exchange as to prevent the other students from asking for it as well. She is a very generous person.

PAVITR PRABHAKAR

Is fiddling with his bright school bag before he insists that you sit with him. He is a talker, and tells you all about himself. He urges you to join theatre for the winter musical, which is apparently “The best school event of the year!”. Pavitr is very involved with the school, and is the president of the theatre club, the secretary of the choir club, and is starting a culture club this year. He tells you to sit with him at lunch kindly. Though, his pleasant rant is interrupted when he tells you to avoid the lunch lady whose name is Linda. His reasoning is that, “She argued with me over chai tea.” which you laugh boisterously at. Although Pavitr has a somewhat ingenuous spirit, he forges your mother’s signature on a detention slip you got for going to the bathroom despite your English teacher’s hard “No.” He’s always going out of his way to help you!

WHAT IS IT LIKE TO BE FRIENDS WITH THEM?

Miles is known as one of the best players on the basketball team. Even though he doesn’t bounce it in the hallways, teachers are always telling him to put the basketball in his hands away, which irritates him to no end. Although teachers adore him, they always have to tell him to turn his phone off because it’s always buzzing from Snapchat notifications. He trades food with people at lunch and is on the Robotics team. Miles is one of the only two in the friend group who hasn’t gotten a detention. Is the only boy in your P.E. class who doesn’t treat it like the olympics and makes sure everyone has a good time. Cried once on FaceTime with you because out of stress he drew a dick on his AP Calc packet and forgot to erase it before turning it in. Unironically, Miles will play mermaids with you in the pool.

Hobie has both girls and boys fawning over him all the time, and people are constantly asking for his number. Never pays attention in class but passes. Hobie’s a “C’s get degrees” type of person, regardless of how well he does in school. For school spirit week, instead of bringing a backpack, he brings a Walmart shopping cart. Makes people laugh in class, but does it respectfully to not piss off the teacher. Teachers get sick of how often you pair up with each other for group projects but he tells them you’re a package deal and that you can’t be separated. Once you get your driver’s license, you make him check your parking jobs. He proceeds to ask you who gave you your license. Grew from 5’9 to 6’5 in the span of a school year and was always asking when second lunch was.

Gwen wasn’t on the bus last year, so she was introduced to the friend group because of her role on the theatre’s stage crew. It’s how she met Pavitr, who played the leading role in the Spring musical. To her dismay, her hydro-flask always falls off her desk, which makes such a loud clang she almost cries. Gwen’s locker is messy, with little magnets all over it. Has the best handwriting you’ve ever seen. Says random Disney bully quotes like, “I’ll kick you into next week if ya don’t give me your lunch!” when she sees you in the hallway. When she gets partnered up with you for a lab, she makes sure you finish before everyone else so you can just chill. Gwen always gets you a snack at the vending machine before any class you have together. She paints your nails in the back of the class.

Pavitr is a straight A student. People think he’s stuck in 2016 because he still wears those bands that you slap on your wrist. Gives people haircuts during break time, and wants to become a hairdresser when he’s older. During a fire drill he got yelled at because he stopped, dropped, and rolled for no reason. Tears fall from his eyes frequently because he holds in coughs in class. Jokingly put in a quote from the Lorax for his senior quote when he was on the yearbook team but forgot to take it out. His senior quote is, “Let it grow.” Pav fake falls in class but nobody suspects a thing because they think he’s innocent. He screamed with you when he saw a spider. Gets out of getting in trouble for being late because he got everyone Starbucks. (He got you a cake pop)

[galaxiasgreen]

📚🐦‍��Stay With Me

Slow burn Garreth x F!Reader romcom-mystery [T-Rated, 5.6k words]

You don't meet his eye. "I've prepared you some questions, for this... tutorship." You unbuckle your satchel and take out not one, not two, but four rolls of parchment, one for each subject, and slide them across the table. "It's simple multiple-choice so I can figure out how much you know. It won't take you long to do." He stares at them, open-mouthed. "You've set me homework?"

Garreth Weasley is good at Potions… and not much else. You, a bookish, lonesome Ravenclaw with a weighted family secret, are good at everything… except Potions. Assigned together for a mutual tutorship, Garreth is sure he won’t meet anyone more boring.

But the potions lab isn’t the only place where sparks will fly.

Tropes: romance/ humour/ drama, slow burn, fluff, tutoring together, grumpy x sunshine, strangers-to-friends-to-lovers, pining, love triangle, dark secret, sworn off love, Everyone Can See It.

[NEXT][read on AO3, read on Wattpad]

A/N: Just to note, in this story Garreth and others fought Ranrok with MC. Enjoy!

1. A Mutual Tutorship

He calls you Prim, mostly because you hate it.

It's not a nickname Garreth gives you for fun (though make no mistake, he loves to tease you with it). No, it's a nickname that's descriptive, deriving from your most cardinal trait. Prim, because you are. Prim and proper and academically minded. Meanwhile he's never had an aptitude for learning, preferring the freedom of exploration over the rigid structure of curriculum.

On paper, you seem like a match made in hell – but in practice? Well, he's always up for a challenge.

He doesn't get to meet you, though, until the dawn of his sixth year, when easy classes and free periods for the exam-weary older students are over. He doesn't even meet you on the day he first hears of you.

Back then, you were merely an illicit suggestion.

"I'm worried about you, Garreth."

He sinks into the chair in Professor Weasley's office. He's been here so many times now it practically feels like a second home, mostly for, ahem, disciplinary reasons, but there are the rare moments when his aunt calls him in for a quick catch-up, tea and biscuits, sometimes to discuss family news – a great grand-uncle dying or one of his cousins announcing a betrothal.

When the professor called him in this time, two days into the term, he thought maybe his parents were expanding their gnome collection and she wanted him to advise against it (there is such a thing as too many gnomes, and it's any number more than zero). Or maybe his sister Clara needed help adjusting to the school – she's a first year now, after all.

So it's like the rug is yanked from under him when she asks about his grades.

"It's two days into the autumn term, Auntie," he says, not prepared to have this conversation so soon. "What's there to worry about? I haven't even had all my N.E.W.T. classes yet."

"That's exactly what I wanted to discuss with you. You have so much potential, Garreth. You are incredibly bright and passionate, and I know you are capable of so much, but your O.W.L. scores left a lot to be desired, and I worry that you won't be able to handle the workload this year."

"Don't know if you remember," he says airily, "but I practically saved Hogwarts—"

"Yes, yes, last year in the caverns below with your friends, I know, Garreth. I was there." Her lips bunch. "But no school-saving antics will boost your grades. Your heroics are the only reason you don't have to repeat your O.W.L.s, and you won't have such an opportunity this time around."

He drops his head on the back of the chair, groaning. Imagine stopping a whole goblin rebellion... and still having to write history essays. He literally made history.

"Your father suggested something I actually like," she says, drawing Garreth's eyes back down. "It seems you need some motivation, and I know you work well when you're with your friends. Therefore he suggested you pair with someone. A mutual tutorship, if you will."

"You want to give me a study buddy?"

"Yes! Oh, I do like that phrasing much better."

"You can phrase it any way you want. Still wipes."

"Garreth..."

"Come off it, Auntie. What are they gonna' do? Sit with me doing every piece of homework I have? And I didn't flop at everything. I got an Outstanding in Potions and Defence Against the Dark Arts."

"Which were your only top grades, half of which because Hecat saw fit to reward your capabilities against Ranrok last summer," she remarks shortly, taking a piece of parchment. "You don't need a study buddy for those subjects. You do, however, need one for History of Magic, Astronomy, Divination and," she stares meaningfully over the rim of her spectacles, "Transfiguration."

He grins sheepishly. "As it happens, I know someone who's great at it?"

She sighs, putting the parchment aside and dropping into her chair. "I know you want to become a potioneer, Garreth, but even the most famous potioneers are well-rounded individuals and excelled in subjects outside of their specialty. Look at Professor Sharp! He was an Auror!"

"Okay, I get it, I get it." All this talk depresses him – all this knowing that he's a problem depresses him. "I promise I did try. I just— find revising very hard and demotivating. And you know, the whole saving-the-world thing..."

Professor Weasley gives him the look.

"I made it to N.E.W.T. classes, didn't I? I'll try this year, I will. You don't have to get me a... study buddy."

"Oh, but I think I do, and as it were, I happen to know the perfect student to match with you. A very bright young lady one year your junior, a Ravenclaw. She excels in all her subjects" – she pauses – "except Potions."

"So you want me to teach her Potions," he clarifies, "and her to teach me everything else?"

"That's right."

"Doesn't seem fair."

"I think you'll find it will be." She makes a knowing face that he doesn't like. "So, what do you say? Want to give it a try?"

"... Can I say no?"

"No."

He sighs. "Brilliant."

His schedule's already packed with classes and homework, now that his education's ramped up for sixth year, and he mulls on the extra work a mutual tutorship will bring for the next few days. Explaining it is even more difficult, when he has to tell Leander he's missing Quidditch for this.

"A study buddy?" he scoffs, as they lounge in the Gryffindor common room after classes that day. "Sounds right horrid."

"Tell me about it."

"Who're you pairing with? Do you know?"

"No idea. A Ravenclaw in the year below, apparently."

"A younger swot? Merlin's pelvis, couldn't she have put you with, I don't know, Amit? Or Everett? If she wanted a Ravenclaw?"

Garreth slouches. The sofas are so comfortable he doesn't want to move. "Bet she knew if she put me with either of them we'd get no work done, Everett because he'd be too busy trying to prank me, Amit because he'd be wasting time describing irrelevant extra stuff."

"Oh, no," Leander panics suddenly, "if this works then she might start doing it to all of us. I don't want a study buddy!"

"Relax. It's only because I'm her nephew that she's testing it with me."

He's sure his aunt wouldn't care quite so much if the same blood didn't run through their veins. After all, she has no children of her own – so Garreth and his sister are the closest she'll get. All her motherly affection, and motherly reprimand too, goes to them.

So when he gets the owl on Sunday afternoon to meet promptly in the library during lunch the next day, he sucks in his gut and resolves to at least try and have fun with it. He likes meeting new people, even if he doesn't like the circumstances – maybe he'll get along with the new Ravenclaw. Maybe they won't be as boring as he suspects.

He heads to the library the next day – late, mind, because he didn't particularly feel like rushing from Charms – and spots Professor Weasley waiting by the front desk.

That's the first time he sets his eyes on you.

Waiting placidly at his aunt's side, you're perfectly put together, not a hair out of place. Your waistcoat is straight, your long skirt starched, your shirt tucked in and top button done. You hold your books in your hand – because of course you do – and the satchel draped over your shoulder bulges with more of them.

You're the picture of a prim Ravenclaw student.

And it fills him with misery.

"Hello, hello," he says to you both, "sorry I'm late." Not.

You purse your lips, like you can detect his lie, but say nothing as his aunt gives him an admonishing glare. "That you are, Garreth. Did I not say you were to be prompt?"

"I grabbed some extra parchment, Professor," he makes sure to use her epithet in the presence of other students, "because I didn't know if I would need it."

By the way her brow loosens, it was a good lie. "All right. Come along, I've reserved a table for you both."

He decides to introduce himself to you on the way upstairs. "Nice to meet you."

You introduce yourself as well, but it's clear by your aloof eyes that you were also roped into this arrangement. "Nice to meet you as well," you repeat awkwardly, voice high with tension.

Turns out, Professor Weasley reserved an entire table, right at the back of the top floor. It seems unnecessary, the isolation, how you've obviously been coerced.

"Now, your proper sessions will take place after classes finish for the day, so for now I believe getting to know one another's style of learning would be most prudent." Professor Weasley ushers you to two seats next to each other. "I'll be sitting over there to keep an eye on you. Madam Scribner has given you both permission to have a quiet chat, so why not break the ice?"

It feels so forced Garreth would prefer to get a Howler right now, but under his aunt's stringent gaze, he plops onto the chair and tosses his bag under the seat. You draw out the seat gracefully, fold yourself upon it, and gently place your satchel, then books, on the table. There is method, he realises, to your movements.

"So..." he claps his hand awkwardly. "Where are you from?"

You clam up immediately, and he doesn't know why that's the wrong thing to ask, but he backtracks.

"Sorry, I mean – you know, where do you live?"

Your frown is still pronounced, but some relief breaths free. "London. You?"

"Devon."

"Right. I've never been there."

"It's nice. Except in the winter. Then the sea air is like murder."

Silence. He has a feeling he'll have to nudge all conversations, which is simply brilliant.

"Have any family?"

"Just my parents. They— they used to live in Asia, before coming here." You shift. "You? I mean, besides the professor."

"How much time do you have?" When you don't answer, he tugs his collar. Tough crowd. "Er, I have a younger sister. Clara, she's called. She's just started her first year. Little menace. Was hoping she wouldn't be Sorted into Gryffindor, but I guess it runs in the Weasley blood. Then there's my cousins, but there's so many that if I named them all you'd miss all your afternoon classes. Hey, maybe that wouldn't be a bad thing?"

You don't even crack a smile. This will be a long, painful conversation.

"Why don't we get started then?" he suggests instead, because the faster he does this, the faster he can leave. "I mean, discussing what we're meant to be, er, learning together? Shouldn't take very long for you if you're only failing Potions."

Your cheeks bloat. "I'm not failing. I just... need a little boost."

Touchy. Okay.

"Well, I'm not afraid to admit I'm failing."

"Yes," you say, and you list on your fingers as you go. "Transfiguration, History of Magic, Divination, and Astronomy. That's four subjects."

"Hey, last year it was five, but luckily I managed to wrangle a Kneazle before it bit Professor Howin, so she bumped up my grade." He's still quite proud of that moment. You make an unimpressed face. "What? You should be grateful we don't have collect Flobberworm mucus together."

"Okay, well, I've prepared you some tasks to complete."

His amusement drains like pus from a Bubotuber.

"What."

It's a statement of disbelief so sheer he doesn't even accompany it with the tonal flick of a question.

You don't meet his eye. "I've prepared you some questions, for this... tutorship." You unbuckle your satchel and take out not one, not two, but four rolls of parchment, one for each subject, and slide them across the table. "It's simple multiple-choice so I can figure out how much you know. It won't take you long to do."

He stares at them, open-mouthed.

"You've set me homework?"

"It's not homework."

"It's work that I have to do in my own time. It's homework."

Your lip curls in displeasure. "Like I said, if I'm going to tutor you, I need to know how much you already know. Then I can incorporate it into my lesson plan."

"Your lesson plan?"

"How else are we going to know what to cover per session?" you ask, bewildered. "You must have something planned for me, right?"

Of course he doesn't. He was just going to give you potions to brew and point out where you'd gone wrong. He rakes a hand through his hair, thinking about whether he could get away pretending to have a stomach/ head/ knee/ butt ache.

"If you don't want to do it later," you say, "you can do it now. Then I can be prepared for our first official session."

How about I run and never look back? With his aunt's watchful gaze on his back, he reluctantly unfurls the first scroll. Transfiguration. You hand him a quill and inkwell and he surfs through, ticking the answers he thinks are right.

"You're not even reading the questions."

"Am too."

"Glancing your eyes over words isn't the same as reading."

Oh, Merlin, you will be the death of him. Sniffing indignantly, he slows down, actually taking time to read the questions. How many exceptions are there to Gamp's Law of Elemental Transfiguration? He tries the rest, though not very hard, because just reading this stupid parchment has left him perplexed, and hands the scroll to you when he finishes.

He's halfway through puzzling when Geminis are born for the Divination quiz – he guesses February – before you roll his parchment up again.

"So? What's the verdict?"

You can't control the grimace on your face, and it's all he needs to know.

He's a total shambles. A failure.

"It's not— unsalvageable," you say hastily, your expression flattening. "But we have a lot of work to do."

He drops his head onto the table so loudly Madam Scribner yells "SSSHHH!" from the floor below.

When he's completed all your scrolls and falsely promises to make a list of things for your Potions O.W.L.s, you collect your belongings, slotting each book and scroll into its rightful place in your bag, give a quick word to his aunt in thanks and leave without goodbye. The whole exchange was about twenty minutes but to Garreth felt like twenty years. He tromps up to Professor Weasley in utter disbelief – and despairs in the way her grin unfurls.

"I told you it would be a fair exchange."

"She's made me homework, Auntie!"

"SSSHHH!" Scribner yells.

"Sorry!" he squeaks over the bannister. "Homework, Auntie. And— lesson plans. She told me I was practically unsalvageable!"

"I definitely heard not unsalvageable, Garreth."

"You can't be serious with this girl."

But Professor Weasley simply pets his shoulder.

"Your future is at stake here, Garreth. It's about time you start taking it seriously. She will help you. You will help each other."

But he really doubts it.

He waits for you outside of the Ravenclaw common room entrance for your first session later that week.

Dread roils through him as he leans against the bannister. Two hours of this, thrice a week, when he could be doing literally anything else. Quidditch has started again – which his aunt has barred him from playing due to his grades – but he could at least watch the Gryffindors practice, watch Leander and Eric Northcott toss Quaffles between them.

He's never had a mind for anything that doesn't interest him. History, divining the stars – both approaches. Even turning butterflies into bells doesn't capture his attention the same way potions do. There's just something about the way you can play loose and fast with the rules, with the ingredients, with the measurements, with the method, that delights his curiosity.

He wiggles his arm so it doesn't go to sleep. He's been to the Ravenclaw common room a few times, usually with Amit – for when they need to get back at Everett for catching them with a dungbomb. Unfortunately it means he's well acquainted with the eagle knocker.

"Honestly, Mr Weasley," it enunciates with that high and mighty tone, "if you sulk any harder and your expression will stick permanently to your face."

"Know from experience, do you?"

It doesn't bother to grace that with a response.

"What quandary plagues you so?"

"I'm doing a study buddy programme."

The knocker toots – literally, like a trumpet. "Hundreds of years I have guarded this tower, and never have I heard something so funny!"

"You could be more sympathetic."

"For the boy who thought it would be funny to tickle my nose with a feather when I was asleep? I think not!"

"I didn't think you had a nose!"

The door swings open then, and you step out. Prim, proper, picturesque. You startle at the sight of him.

"I thought we were to meet in the library."

"I was passing by, thought I'd come up and walk with you."

Suspicion flutters through your eyes. "Why?"

"What do you mean, why?"

"Why would you want to walk with me?"

He blinks. Is he being stupid, or has he missed something? "Er, because it's a nice thing to do, and if I have to waste six hours of my life on this mutual tutorship every week then I should at least get to know you better."

"I see."

Something not quite as strong as displeasure edges your voice, but you fall into step with him – not missing the way he makes a rude face at the knocker on the way downstairs.

"Look, I'll be honest," he begins, "I don't like this arrangement any more than you do, but I'm naturally pre-disposed to not taking anything too seriously, so even if we have to endure revision together, we can at least try to have a good time with it. Sound fair?"

You don't answer immediately. "What's the catch?"

"What? No catch. I just don't want to be totally glum each time I see you."

Something flashes across your expression, but it's too fleeting to identify it. "All right, that's... understandable."

"Great."

Conversation is stilted, however, even when you get to the library. You don't immediately warm to him, which is odd, because he's very used to people immediately falling for his magnanimous charms. You pull out your notebook – a timetable neatly journaled into the opening page – as he dumps out his parchment and quills.

"Since our sessions cover six hours per week," you say, "I thought we could work on your subjects for four of them, and then two hours on Potions for me."

"Right, fine." Sounds positively wretched. "My aunt's got Sharp's permission to use the potions laboratory this Friday, so I guess we can do it then."

"The potions laboratory?"

"Yeah. What? Did you think we could do Potions work without... potions?"

"Shouldn't we focus on the written portion?"

He frowns. "The written portion of the Potions O.W.L. is tiny. Like, miniscule. And boring."

You draw yourself up. "I don't find it boring. The essays are the best part."

Oh dear Merlin. "Well, sorry to disappoint you, but the majority of your Potions O.W.L. depends on actual potion-making." He grins. "Why? Scared, are you?"

"Why would I be scared?"

"You seem keen not to do it. Don't tell me you have some tragic backstory involving an exploding cauldron."

"No," you grind out. "I just... don't have a natural affinity for it like I do all my other subjects."

"That must've been really hard for you to accept."

He's teasing, but your face sours. Wow, you really are a tough crowd.

"Let's start. History of Magic."

This is one of those subjects he needs to know for his career choice – potioneers are expected to understand the history behind advancements in potion-making, after all – but Professor Binns makes it near-impossible to derive any sort of interest in the subject. The first topic of the year, the disbandment of the Wizards' Council in 1707, is already so dull Garreth can feel himself melting into the floor the moment the ghost opens his mouth.

"Now, I've already started the essay about the tumult of the Ministry of Magic's early years." You pull out a roll of parchment. "If we compare the key argument points—"

"Wait," he says, holding up his hand, "what do you mean, you've started the essay?"

"The essay that Binns set."

"You're doing N.E.W.T. level classes?"

"I'm doing N.E.W.T. level homework," you correct. "The professors assign it to me and I work on it with my regular homework."

"How do you have time to eat? Or sleep?"

You shrug. It's all so easy to you. You probably dream of your textbooks. It's so boggling.

"As I was saying," you continue, "we ought to start by comparing the points we've both made for the essay."

He just can't fathom it. Is there any point getting to know you when your spare time is dedicated to nothing but grades and studying? How can anyone be so academically good at (almost) everything, take on extra work, agree to tutor a frankly hopeless student... and still find time to enjoy other things?

"Right, yes, comparing essay points," he mumbles. "Sounds good."

Then again, he thinks, when neither of you move, and your eyes begin to narrow, you don't seem like the type of person to enjoy anything.

"You haven't started the essay yet, have you?"

"... Does a sphinx speak in riddles?"

You groan.

The first Potions session that Friday is a fun one – because now he gets to test you, watch you squirm and sweat. After the painful four hours together, scribbling theory for Divination and star charts for Astronomy, it's finally time to show what he can do. You're always so put together, so  he wants to see how bad you are, see what it is that justifies asking for his help in the first place.

Professor Sharp is waiting in the potions laboratory when you both arrive, seated at his desk marking homework.

Garreth grins. "All right, Professor?"

His expression curdles exponentially. "I trust I don't have to keep one eye on you for the entire two hours, Mr Weasley?"

"'Course not, sir. I'm only here to supervise my charge. In fact, you could say I'm the professor here."

"That doesn't fill me with much more confidence," Sharp mutters, then flicks his quill. "I've prepared the one on the left. Work quietly, please."

You seem nonplussed when Garreth steers you to the potions station. "Do you have a... reputation?"

"Don't know what you mean."

"You must do, by the professor's tone. You're a— miscreant."

"I'm a creative," he corrects. "Professor Sharp just doesn't appreciate my artistry."

"I can hear you, Mr Weasley."

"See? No appreciation whatsoever."

He gave you a list of ingredients to bring, and as he lights the fire beneath the cauldron, you sort them on the table – a bezoar in a mortar, mistletoe berries tied together with twine, Mooncalf tears in a phial. He notices you spend an inordinate amount of time placing them in neat, agreeable piles, rather than, you know, starting the actual potion-making, and he tucks this information away.

"Right, so, today I thought you could brew the antidote to common poisons."

"Antidote," you say stiffly. "Common poisons."

"That's what I said."

"Isn't that a third year subject?"

"It is." He smiles devilishly. "But we're going to do it with a twist."

Your brow furrows. "You're supposed to teach me relevant things, Garreth."

"You'll be lucky I'm not adding my own spin on it. No, just a simple improvement to up the ante. We're going make sure our potion can also act as an antidote to spider venom."

"Spider venom?" Your hand reaches for the textbook, but Garreth palms it away. "But— I need the recipe."

"You won't get the full recipe in your O.W.L. exams. You only get a list of ingredients and vague instructions. But it's better to learn by doing, and you will be expected to understand how the property of each ingredient affects the potion." He gestures. "Shall we begin?"

Your lips are flat as you fill the cauldron with standard potioning water – two pints of it, until it bubbles nicely over the flames. You know the first step by heart, which is to crush the bezoar into a fine powder and add four measures. Good start. With each of his thorough explanations, you fidget, uncomfortable.

"Why not just feed someone a bezoar? It works, doesn't it?"

"Why do we extract essence of dittany instead of just nibbling on the stem? Because combined with other ingredients the potion is more powerful. A bezoar wouldn't work against more virulent spider venom on its own, but it will in the potion we're brewing, because its healing properties are enhanced. Also, have you tried shoving that whole thing in your gob? Tastes rank."

"Wait," you say suddenly. "I need to write this down."

"The tastes rank part, or shoving in your gob part?"

You ignore him, grabbing your quill and scribbling furiously.

"Watch your cauldron. It's bubbling over."

You squeak, dropping the quill and stirring. A sheen of sweat coats your forehead, which is pretty hilarious. You've only just started.

"What's the next step?" he asks.

Your eyes skim the ingredients, frantic. "Erm... Mooncalf tears?"

"Try again." When you grimace, he says, "Begins with Stuh. Ends with andard ingredient."

You glare at him. "This doesn't make sense. Why add that now?"

"It's a stabilising agent. It emulsifies the ingredients together."

"Like eggs in a cake," you murmur, which surprises him. "But we've only added the bezoar to the water. What's there to stabilise?"

"Bezoars don't dissolve in water, and this will help the ingredients we add next."

He can see your frustration. Suddenly it makes sense why you hate Potions so much. You don't understand the science behind it – ironic, for someone who seems so methodical, and so proficient at other more technical subjects like Transfiguration. You pour the herbs into the brew, watching cautiously as the liquid thickens and changes colour from grimy brown to forest green, and notes of saltiness waft into the air.

"Good." The potion isn't looking too bad – maybe a little too green, but not unworkable. "Now, what next?"

"... Mooncalf tears?"

"Nope. You need to desaturate the brew."

"So turn up the heat?" He gives a firm nod. "For how long?"

"Well, you've added standard ingredient, which acts as a thickening agent already, and bezoar powder burns easily, even in water. Do you think much heat should be applied?"

"... Maybe?"

"Bet your examiner would love that answer."

You scowl. "Just tell me."

"Bring it to simmer," he instructs. "But only for a few minutes. For the aforementioned reasons."

After you write this down, you nudge another piece of wood into the fire pit below, then adjust the knob for heat. After a few moments, the bubbles pop ferociously on the surface. He watches you watching it, transfixed, eyebrows sloping in intense concentration. It's clear you desperately want this to work – but something holds you back, whether it's just disinterest in the subject or not. You lower the heat after three minutes, leaning back.

"Now do we add the Mooncalf tears?"

He laughs. "Merlin's beard, you're desperate to get those tears in. No, now you wave your wand and let it stew. Do you know for how long?"

"I remember this," you say. "It was about thirty minutes."

"Are you sure?"

"Well now I'm not."

His grin only grows. "What type of cauldron are you using?"

"Pewter."

"How will that affect the time?"

"Isn't pewter less conducive of magical properties than the others, and therefore makes brewing time slower?"

"I don't know. Is it?"

"Garreth."

"Yes, you're right," he says. "You're a right laugh, you know."

"You're not," you remark tersely. "So it stews for more time then?"

"Probably about forty-five minutes, though I reckon with how you bunged all the standard ingredient in, it'll probably need a few minutes more. We'll eyeball it."

You squeak. "We can't— eyeball it!"

"'Course we can. When it's reduced enough, we'll take it off the heat."

Still, it's about a fifty-minute wait, and unfortunately you decide to get him back for all the fun he's having by asking how his History of Magic essay is going (... it's not). Even Professor Sharp laughs when he stumps at the first bullet point.

When the fifty minutes slog by (and they do slog – probably because Garreth dies a little with each legislative policy he has to know by name), you check the potion again. The water has boiled down to a gooey liquid, half the size it was before, and the colour has deepened.

"Now you have ground unicorn horn to add. This is where it gets interesting." His voice dances with glee, but you look like you'd rather get punched in the face. "The recipe for the regular antidote calls for a pinch of unicorn horn, then two clockwise stirs. But to work against a more potent poison like spider venom, you need at least two pinches, and double the number of stirs, to let everything combine."

You hunch over your unicorn horn powder. "Are you sure this isn't one of your creative exploits?"

"Hand on heart, this is all by-the-book," he says, then calls out, "In fact, I should really get some house points for it!"

"Don't hold your breath," Sharp calls back.

Garreth winks at you. "Worth a try, right?"

Your brow drops in exasperation.

Still, you follow his next instructions carefully. Two pinches of unicorn horn powder, then four stirs of the cauldron, and it hisses and pops as the powder melts into the solution. Finally you add two mistletoe berries, careful to keep the toxic leaves away, and wave your wand to finish. It's as expected – not bad for someone who claims to struggle at the subject, though he had to coach you through most of it.

"So... how do we know if the potion works?"

"Funny you should ask." Garreth reaches for his bag. "I have a spider I keep in a jar—"

You scrabble away at once. "What?" you shriek – it's the first explosive emotion he's seen from you. "No, no, no—"

"Merlin, that was a joke! 'Course I don't have a spider in my bag!"

Your shoulders drop. Your expression storms.

"Not. Funny."

But he giggles. "Come on. That was kind of funny."

"You really are a miscreant."

"Not a fan of spiders, are you?"

"They're detestable." You shudder, crossing your arms. "I don't know how anyone can stand the creatures."

"I think they're kind of cute. You know, in an ugly sort of way."

You step back to the station, gesturing with your chin to the potion again. "So? How do you know if we succeeded?"

"Colour, consistency, smell. Is it teal? Yes. Is it thick, and the bottom of the cauldron is only visible when you scrape it with a spoon? Yes. Does it smell like Graphorn dung?" He sniffs. Winces. "Oh yeah."

"How do you know what Graphorn dung smells like?"

"You don't want to know." (It involved Everett, naturally.) "So, with all those factors, we can safely say the potion was a resounding success. Huzzah!"

Yet you don't seem particularly pleased. He's not sure why, given that his aunt implied you were so poor at the subject even a mediocre brew was unthinkable. But maybe your bar to success is much higher than his. He helped you a lot, after all – maybe you'll only consider these tutoring sessions a win if you manage to brew an entire potion by yourself, without his ogling over your shoulder. Without someone literally telling you what to do.

And if that's what you want, okay. He's happy to help. The quicker you pick up these potions lessons, the quicker he is freed of your prickly company.

"Wait," you say suddenly, "what were the Mooncalf tears for?"

"Oh, those?" He chuckles. "They're not for anything. They're just to bamboozle you."

Your glare is potent enough to set him on fire.

"I am trying to learn here, and you fooling around is not helping."

"Who says this isn't helping? You'll never forget Mooncalf tears aren't in the antidote now, will you?"

"But— that's—!" You let out a groan. "You're being insufferable."

He just laughs harder. "You're so prim, it's hilarious."

"If wanting to learn things the proper way makes me prim, so be it."

"The proper way? Oh ho ho, no. There's no proper way."

"Written study is the proper way."

He leans on the potions station, grinning villainously. "Then I'll prove to you that it's not all about textbooks and words on a page. You're going to learn so hard you won't know what hit you. You'll see."

Your raise your chin, derision clear.

"Very well then, Garreth."

"All righty then, Prim."

He sees how it digs. "What? Don't— don't call me that!"

"Only calling you what you are, Prim."

When the session ends, he agrees to start that essay – or at least think about starting it – and you agree to review your notes for the antidote, but no matter how many times you remind him of your real name, he teases you with the moniker until you part ways. Unfortunately for you, insufferable doesn't quite have the same ring to it, and you wouldn't dare deign to his level of immaturity.

So at the end of the first week, you still call him Garreth.

And he calls you Prim.

[NEXT] [Divider credit, gorgeous art by Lyworth]

[cal-daisies-and-briars]

Can u give me 10 emoji buddieshannon and 10 emoji cranberry pls love u

YEAH! Waited for this until I could get to some Buddieshannon action for you bc I know that's what you want.

30 for 🔼

---

“This okay?” He asks. 

Of course it’s okay, right? Isn’t this the whole point? Did Eddie maybe get ahead of himself, not realize how he’d feel to see them touch in front of him? Is he jealous now?

“Yeah,” Eddie breathes, voice low. “It’s okay. But…”

“But what?” Shannon asks. 

“But… But you should kiss her,” Eddie says, eyes flicking to meet Buck’s. 

Oh. 

Oh, wait now. What was it Eddie had said? That he hadn’t been able to stop thinking about it? When he learned Buck and Shannon kissed the first time. 

Ah, okay. Buck gets it. He gets it. He can play.

He turns, shifting his body towards Shannon. He cups her face with one hand and kisses her.

Shannon leans into the kiss. A little sound escapes the back of her throat. Buck’s eyes are closed, but he can hear the sharp inhale that lets him know Eddie is watching with rapt attention. 

Buck sort of comes unglued. It’s the wine. It’s the buildup. It’s the taste of Shannon on his lips and the strange, tingling sensation of Eddie’s eyes on them. 

---

30 for 🦮

---

Today is one of those days. 

Eddie is in the living room, working on his exercises. The fucking resistance band. He’s moved up a difficulty level. Woohoo. 

Occasionally, he’ll emit a little pained grunt during a set. Sometimes it even sounds more like a whimper. Every time he does, Cranberry, who is lying on the couch across the room, staring at him, perks her ears. She’s eying him, like he’s a risk to himself and others, and one more noise will make her come intervene. The way she does for Buck when he’s anxious. The way she has done for him before.

Eddie huffs, meeting her eyes.

“Cut me some slack, Cran,” Eddie pleads. “This is assigned homework.”

She sighs, long-suffering. 

“Okay,” Eddie rolls his eyes. “Think it’s fun for me? I’m the one in pain!”

She holds his gaze. He does, in fact, realize he’s talking to a dog. 

“You’re just mad you can’t do anything about it,” Eddie accuses. “Control freak. Just like your father.”

And now he’s calling Buck her father. He’s lost it. The dog has made him lose it. He was never like this about dogs before Cranberry. He was always sane. Pepa had these little terriers growing up and he couldn’t fucking stand them. Most dogs suck, compared to her.

[lunasmisosoup]

𝕬𝖑𝖑-𝕹𝖎𝖌𝖍𝖙𝖊𝖗

guys i wrote this one sitting AND i had fun

cw: none!!

word count: 764

Today had been a long day for you and Ace, and you were both looking forward to just laying down until the next day. The only thing stopping you from this dream was your homework. The same homework that had been assigned a week before, and was now due the day after tomorrow. The two of you found out the hard way why the homework had been assigned so far in advance - the research.

After looking over the rubric you were provided - well, you read over it carefully while Ace skimmed through over your shoulder - your faces dropped at the realization that you two would have to pull an all-nighter tonight for the research and hope you got an essay out before the deadline the next day. You already had to remind the ginger to keep working multiple times throughout the night, and it was only getting worse the later the night went on. Soon enough, the two of you were getting bored and tired.

“Come on,” the boy began to complain, “it’s a shared grade, anyway! You can look things up and I can write the essay!” Ace started to lean against you, wearing a charismatic smirk. You scoff. “Please, you’re not gonna do anything unless I make you. And right now, I’m making you do this research with me. We both know that if I agree, the essay isn’t going to get written, and our grade is gonna tank. Do you think Riddle would like that?”

He sighs, putting more of his weight against you. You decide to let him stay like that for just a little bit while you grab another book, knowing Professor Trein liked research to be done with physical copies of books rather than digitally. As soon as you lift your arm, Ace falls into your lap with nothing to lean on anymore. You jump slightly, looking down at his lightly blushing face.

The boy quickly shakes it off, though, almost instantly trying to convince you to let him stay there. “Please? I’m so tired, and I promise I’ll write the essay tomorrow if you keep doing the research! Besides, you’re doing the easy part. Everyone knows the hardest part of writing a paper is changing your words so you’re not plagiarizing.” Despite the bullshit this kid was spewing your way, you knew he was at least a little bit right about one thing: you had the easy job. You usually didn’t mind finding facts about whatever you had to write about, but you hated changing the words around. You were never able to figure out whether it was due to having to look up synonyms and pick the best option when none of them were good, or because of how exhausted you were after the research.

You sigh deeply. “You promise to actually write the essay if I let you sleep on me?” He smiles and nods, knowing that he's won. “Of course! When have I ever done anything to make you doubt me?”

You stare at him just long enough for him to realize you are not buying into his shit. “...Go to sleep, Ace.” He lets out a small, exhausted cheer before shuffling into a more comfortable position. You run your fingers through his hair, humming a small tune to lull him into slumber quicker.

A few hours later, one of the ghosts appears in front of you. “Ah, still at it? It's getting late, I think you should wrap it up soon.” You look up and rub your eyes. “Yeah,” you yawn, “I just need a little bit more to be finished.” You lightly scratch Ace's scalp. The ghost smiles, floating a blanket to cover the ginger's legs. “It'll be easier if you just call it quits for now, you know. You'll be less tired tomorrow - or, today, I guess. Speaking of, you just stay home later. I'll talk to Crowley about it.”

You nod, thanking the ghost as he brings you a few pillows and leaves. Gently shaking Ace's shoulder, you whisper, “Hey, get up. I'm serious, just for a sec.” He mumbles just a little before being coherent enough to talk to you. “Huh?”

“Come on, sit up for a second so I can get comfortable.” After a little bit of convincing, the boy lets you arrange yourself. You lay on your side, patting in front of you to let Ace know he has to lay there. You snuggle into his chest tenderly, humming in approval as he wraps his arms around you. “G'night.” You smile at the boy's voice. “Goodnight, Ace.”

taglist: @astro-stars

divider credits: (moon: @/strangergraphics), (strawberry: @/dollywons)

[sevikas-all-right]

Sevika, what in the National Honor Society haircut is that? You look like you just got back from winning the regional spelling bee. This isn’t a bob, this is a STEM scholarship. You look like you correct people’s math homework for fun. Like, you’re out here running Zaun’s crime rings, but your hair is giving ‘first-chair clarinet in the marching band.’

You break bones for a living, yet this haircut cries when the Wi-Fi goes out. This isn’t mercenary energy, this is ‘teacher, you forgot to assign homework’ energy. You look like you unironically own a protractor. This bob doesn’t say ‘I run the underworld’—it says ‘I run the school’s robotics club.’

Sevika, why do you look like you get grounded for not emptying the dishwasher? Fix it.

Did my haircut offend you on some personal level?

Do you think I have the fucking time to take care of my hair when I got to deal with everyones bullshit. Best to cut it off.

[stargazer-sims]

Journal Entry #20

previous // next // story index

__________

Victor

Hey, everybody! It's been a while.

Things have been nonstop around here for the past few weeks, which is how I like it, but it hasn’t left much time for updates. I’m gonna try to fill you in on everything that's been happening as best I can.

The first item of news is that Yuri and I have decided our first international adventure together is definitely going to be in Brazil. Turns out, there are some great travel packages available in the winter, which is the only time we can go due to us both having jobs. I think Yuri’s still a little nervous about flying, but he’s starting to get into the idea of the trip itself. We’ve been doing our research, so we’re going to be fully prepared, and it looks like it’s going to be a totally amazing experience. We’ll keep you all in the loop as our travel plans develop.

In other less happy news, Yuki finally went home. I have absolutely no idea what kind of capitalist disaster kept Mr. and Mrs. Okamoto working at their company’s head office in the city for nearly a month, but I guess they sorted it out at last. I’m sure Mr. Okamoto is back in his office here in town now, terrorizing his local workforce once again.

Yuki didn’t want to leave when her parents came to get her. She hung onto Yuri and cried so hard that it made me wonder just how bad life for her is at home. It took all Yuri’s considerable powers of persuasion to convince her to let go, and then we had to agree to drive her home ourselves so that she could spend ten more minutes with us.

I’ll confess I felt like crying when Yuki hugged us goodbye in front of her house. I’d gotten used to having her with us and we were really feeling like an odd little family to me. I was getting into the routines of bedtime, playtime, chores and homework.

Yuki was still with us when she started the new school term after summer break, and they’ve had homework assignments already. Yuri had to help her with that because I was never great at doing my own school work when I was Yuki’s age. I didn’t think I could focus long enough to help Yuki with hers.

Yuri is brilliant and he did really well, encouraging her to figure out the answers herself and praising her when she got it right. Even when she didn't get it right, it was no big deal. He told her that incorrect answers were just bends in the road on the way to her goal, and that she should keep trying.

“Remember what I said about being wrong?” I overheard him telling her one evening. “It’s not easy, and we might not like it, but it’s how we learn.”

If we ever planned to adopt a kid some day, he’d be a totally amazing dad. Neither of us actually want to have the permanent responsibility of a kid, and we’re far from ready for it even if we did want to, but hypothetically I can picture Yuri as a fantastic parent. As for me, I’d be the fun dad who’d plan the birthday parties, cry dramatically over every first-time event, and hate giving time-outs. I’d be the classic “Go ask your other dad” guy because you just know Yuri would be the one making all the rules.

Another thing that happened while Yuki was with us was that she had her birthday. September is a big month for birthdays in the Okamoto family. Yuki's birthday is on the eighth, Mrs. Okamoto's is on the eighteenth and Yuri's is on the twentieth. Yuki is ten years old now, and she's super proud of being in the double digits.

Yuri and I might’ve gone slightly overboard with Yuki’s birthday presents. Yuri got permission from his mother to let him buy her a snowboard, so we went shopping in Kyoto one day while Yuki was at school. A snowboard isn’t any good without snowboard boots, and she needed a helmet for safety reasons. We bought her an adorable snowsuit and matching gloves too.

The look on her face was priceless when she saw everything. The only thing we wrapped was her helmet, and Yuri gave it to her before dinner. It was probably a tiny bit mean on our part to make her wait until after dinner for the rest, especially because she knew exactly what the helmet was for and had no problem anticipating what would go with it, but watching her get more and more excited all through our meal was worth watching.

As soon as we were done clearing up the dishes, we showed her everything else, and she ran straight upstairs to try on her snowsuit and helmet in front of the mirror. We could hear her shrieking with delight, “I look like I could be in the Winter Olympics!”

I’ve already had her up on the mountain with her new snowboard, and let me tell you, our Yuki is a natural. We were only on the bunny slope, but I predict she’ll be on the easy slope by midwinter. If she wants to compete, I think next year she could be in the junior novice competitions. The most important thing for now is that she likes it and that she’s staying safe.

The last time I talked to her, she was trying to think of a name for her board. After finding out that mine all have names, it was a foregone conclusion that she'd want to name hers. She said she’ll let me know when she comes up with the perfect name for it, and I'm looking forward to hearing what she decides on.

On the subject of snowboarding, it’s less than two months until the start of our competitive season. I’ve been training like crazy, but it’s harder now that I have a job and have to be at work four days a week. Still, I’m feeling good about this season. Elsa is the best board I’ve ever owned. She rides like a champion, and I’m in really great shape.

The first competition of the season is during the work week, but my boss has already approved me taking the day off. It’s on a Friday, but Tomiko is letting me work on Monday that week instead, to make up for it. Yuri promised me that he’d come and watch. I’m ridiculously excited, and I can hardly wait for this season to get going.

Even with lots to look forward to during autumn and winter, It’s hard to believe summer’s over. It'll soon be October and Canadian Thanksgiving. Japan doesn't have a Thanksgiving holiday like we do in Canada, but I still like to celebrate it just as I would if I was back home. This’ll be my second Thanksgiving without my mom and our extended family, and although I’m sad about that, I’ve still got plenty to be thankful for. I’m planning a huge meal for it and we’re inviting our friends over to enjoy the feast with us.

But before we get to Thanksgiving, we've got another dinner party planned and something else to celebrate. Today is Yuri's birthday, and he’s twenty-five. In my opinion, twenty-five years is a big milestone for somebody who was given a low chance of survival past the first twenty-four hours of his life. I think defying odds is one of Yuri’s specialties.

It’s wonderful and strange to think that we’ll both be twenty-five for a couple of months. I don’t know why, but I like the idea of there being a magical window of time where we’re the same age.

We met in that special part of the year, when we were both twenty. It was in November, so Yuri had turned twenty about two months prior, and I was about to turn twenty-one on the second of December. It’s hard to believe we’ve known each other nearly five years now and that we’ve been officially together for most of it. Our second anniversary of being physically together here in Matsumori will be coming up on the fifth of February. We’re reaching milestones everywhere, and I love it.

Anyway, Yuri's party will be tomorrow, since that's when all of our friends are free, but we've been doing birthday stuff since yesterday. Last night we had dinner with his parents, and when we got home in the evening, I made his birthday cake. This morning we had cake for breakfast, and I’m pretty sure it was the first time in his life that he’s ever done that.

He doesn’t eat a lot of sweets and he’s not used to it, so it was kind of funny to see him on a sugar high first thing in the morning. Generally speaking, I’m the one who’s energetic in the mornings, and it was a change to have him moving at my speed.

He hopped into the bath with me after breakfast, which was an unexpected surprise. There was a lot more playing and nonsense than he typically accepts, but he started it, so that’s my excuse for letting things get silly and splashy in there. Let’s just say, not a whole lot of actual washing got done.

“I think you should take me somewhere nice for my birthday,” he declared.

“Do you? I thought you wanted to have a quiet day at home.”

“It’s my prerogative to change my mind,” he said airily. “It’s my birthday,”

I was trying hard to keep a straight face as he casually tickled my chest. “Anybody ever tell you that you’re a troublemaker, Yuri Okamoto?”

“How could you ever call an innocent boy like me a troublemaker?“

“The ones who seem innocent are the ones you’ve got to watch,” I said. “They’re the ones who sweet talk you into doing things you might not have come up with on your own.”

“Oh? What things? I may be too innocent to know what you mean.”

My effort not to laugh was a wholly unsuccessful one. “Keep doing what you’re doing, and you’ll find out.”

“Will I like it?”

“You tell me,” I said. “I don’t think I'll be taking you anywhere for your birthday, unless you count my room."

"Ooh... that sounds intriguing."

"Yeah, I’m going to scoop you out of this tub and carry you to my bedroom, and then I'm gonna take my time kissing every centimetre of you from head to toe. Every centimetre you can tolerate, at least.”

“That’s still a lot of centimetres.” He stopped tickling me and began petting me instead, ghosting his fingers over my collarbone in a way that always makes me feel pleasantly weak and tingly. “That could take a while. Longer if I want a turn kissing you all over.”

“Could take all morning,” I said.

He hummed softly. ‘Yes, it could, but we can always go out in the afternoon.“

“I guess you’re feeling adventurous today?"

“Mm-hmm. I am.” He gazed at me through half-closed eyelids, and in a tone I can only describe as seductive, he continued. “Do you like it when I’m adventurous, Victor?”

“You know there’s only one correct answer I can give to that,” I said. I trailed my fingertips slowly along the length of his spine. “You tell me when to stop, my beautiful brave boy. This is your adventure.”

I got down to the small of his back before he gasped. “Ohh… stop, please. Stop right there.”

“Too much?”

“No.” He wiggled a little under my hand. “It’s good. I like it. Just remember how you went all the way down my back like that, because I want you to do it again, but I want to experience it properly. I want to be comfortable, not squished into a corner of the tub.”

“Who’s squishing who?” I said. “You’re the one who’s on top of me.”

“Let’s get out,” he said. “Weren’t you going to carry me to your room? Kiss every centimetre of my body that I can tolerate, I think you said?”

“Yeah.”

“I’m ready for it. I might even let you try exploring a few new spots.”

So… that happened.

We had fun until Yuri got too cold and insisted I should go to his room and get some clothes for him. Then we had fun again, attempting to put pyjamas on each other. I’m much better at dressing him than he is at dressing me, since I’ve already had some practice. It was nice to see him being able to enjoy it for a change, too. Usually when I have to change his clothes, it’s because he’s ill and in pain and literally can’t do it by himself. There’s nothing remotely amusing or pleasant about that.

Once we were sufficiently covered and snuggling under the blankets, and Yuri had stopped shivering, we were both prepared to pick up the thread of our earlier conversation.

"So,” I said, “Where would you like me to take you for your birthday?”

“I want to go down to the valley and look at the coloured leaves,” he said. “You can take me to the park in Hanamigawa. Maybe we can pack some sandwiches or something, and our dinner can be a picnic.”

“That sounds awesome,” I said. “When was the last time we had a picnic?”

“This time last year.”

“I think we should make a point of doing it more often, don’t you?”

“I’d like that,” he said. “Do you know what else I want to do?”

“What?”

“Karaoke," he said.

I laughed. “Yuri, you’re terrible at karaoke. Why do you want to do that?”

“Because you’re terrible at it too, and I want to watch,” he admitted. “Besides, I won’t care that I’m terrible after I’ve had the drink you’re going to buy for me.”

“Do you think that’s a good idea?”

“Just one,” he said. “It’s my birthday. Please?”

The way he was looking at me, it would’ve been impossible to refuse him anything, and when he curled his fingers around mine and gave my hand a playful squeeze I knew I wasn’t going to be insisting on any sort of reasonable behaviour.

“Okay,” I said. “I’ll buy you a drink tonight. Just one, and if the angry belly monster doesn’t like it, you’re not allowed to blame me. Got it?”

“Got it,” he said, and gave me a cheeky little grin. “But, if I don’t feel good after, you’ll still take care of me, right?”

“Don’t I always?”

“You do. I love how you take care of me.” He rested his head on my shoulder. “I have nothing to worry about with you. Makes my other worries easier to manage.”

He didn’t have to say what those were, because the two biggest ones were my worries, too.

I’d said I would talk to Hana about the situation with Ren, but I hadn’t succeeded in doing it yet. Hana and I don’t frequent the same places so I don’t often see her, and the couple of times I’d tried calling her, it just went to voicemail. Probably she was ignoring me. I figured if I wanted to catch her, the only place I could do it would be at the rink. That wouldn’t be ideal, but I doubted it’d happen at all otherwise.

Fortunately, Yuri seems to have calmed down quite a lot since his initial conversation with Hana. I know he’s still concerned about it. He's told me that he can't stop thinking about it for long, but he’s coping as best he can.

The other big thing occupying the top of our worry list is his upcoming medical tests. That appointment seemed far away before. Now it’s looming like a shadow, only three days away.

It’s hard for me to understand how Yuri’s feeling about that, because I’m hardly ever sick. The only time I was in the hospital, aside from various trips to the emergency room to get treated for injuries, was when I had day surgery to get my wisdom teeth removed when I was twenty-one. I don’t like going to the hospital, but I’m also not afriad of it. Then again, I have no reason to be scared. Nobody puts me through medically-authorized torture when I go there. I’ve never once woken up in a hospital bed feeling worse than I did when I arrived.

The tests are routine; he has some of them once a year and others, like blood tests and antibody tests, more often. I’m keeping my fingers crossed that everything’s okay. He’s been doing so well lately that I’m almost totally convinced it’ll be fine, but I’ve discovered that what’s making me feel confident is having the exact opposite effect on him. It’s like he’s waiting for the proverbial other shoe to drop, like he’s afraid this has been the calm before a very big storm. That particular fear, I’m coming to realize, is part of the psychology of disability.

All I can do is be with him and support him however he needs me to. He doesn’t expect me to try to understand what he’s going through, because he and I both know I never can. He says what he needs most is my empathy and patience and gentleness, and I’ve promised him he’ll always have that.

I glanced at him and he was gazing back at me, still smiling. I said, “Do you want to get up and see what I got you for your birthday, or would you rather just lie here for a while?”

“Lie here,” he said. “I already have what I want for my birthday, all wrapped up next to me.”

“I thought you liked presents," I said.

“I do, and I’ll be happy to open it later.” He stroked my side idly. “I hope it’s something I can wear.”

“Were you peeking in the closet?”

“No.”

“Well, it is something you can wear. It’s something you told me you wanted last year at Christmas.”

“Oh!” he exclaimed. “In that case, I do want to open it now, and then I’m going to keep admiring it all day.”

“If you want it now, you have to get up.”

“No…" he whined. "Victor, that’s not fair. I think you should bring it in here, and then you can put it on me.”

I pretended to think it over, but I already knew I was going to give in. Saying no to him when he’s like that is just too hard.

“Okay, birthday boy. Stay right there. I’ll be back in a minute.”

“Thank you,” he said sweetly as I was leaving the room. “You’re the best.”

I’m telling you, my willpower is hopelessly lost with this guy around. I’m clay in his hands, no question, and I don’t think I’d ever want it any other way.

[ju1cyfru1t]

Heeey, I stumbled upon your blog and wanna say it's sooo cuuute. And the fact that you're a minor makes it 10 times better because like, I turned 18 this year so that means I'm older than you and legally allowed to step onto my elder sister role to encourage you too keep going. The fics you've published are so nice and fluffy and heart-warming and, even though they are not perfect, they are so fun! Keep going!

Idk, I felt like saying something nice.

Aaalso, if you like to write headcanons, I'd love to see some with Leo or maybe all four turtles. If you need inspo, you could start off with a stressed/busy reader because with becoming an adult comes university :'D. And I think Leo would be particularly jelaous of the homework and refuse to leave the reader's arms even when there are ✨deadlines✨ and ✨assignments✨.

This is my first request btw and it wasn't meant to be one originally lol

Have fun!

omg thank you so so much this is actually so sweet and it fr means a lot :( 🫶🏻🫶🏻🫶🏻 I really hope you like this!

Rise! Leo x Overworked! Reader

Fluff! :D comfort? Headcanons + Drabble

gn reader! romantic but could be read as platonic

- Leonardo obviously could not truly, fully understand academic pressure nor did he care to seeing as he had never really gone to school. He didn’t get what was so important about it to you, but he was supportive…to an extent.

- It just took all of your attention! he is needy

- There’s really no point in resenting something inanimate, but he doesn’t really seem to understand that.

- “what does your dumb homework have that I don’t?” “Are you seriously jealous of my homework right now, Leon?” “…Maybe.”

- as time went on and your schoolwork seemed to just keep piling on, he couldn’t deny he was worried about you. You just seemed so stressed and exhausted all the time, and midterms coming up did not help. He didn’t really know how to help you, or if he could at all but he could at least try to get you to rest a little.

“Uuuuggghhh, are you almost done?” Leo groaned, setting down his comic and watched you typing away at your desk as he laid on your bed.

“Yes, Leo, I am almost finished. “ You sighed, your back aching from sitting like that for so long and Leo sighed too. “You said that like an hour ago!”

“I know! I still need to proofread my essay again, turn in my reading guide, I think I have something missing for math right now-“ Your head was throbbing with tension as you held it in your hands.

“Come on, just take a break! you obviously need one…” he grumbled the last past, sitting up, he reached his arms out to you. He was staring at you pleadingly sigh then big ole’ eyes. “Just for a minute, I promise!”

You sighed deeply, standing up slowly. “Ok, fine. But only for a few minutes. I’m serious, Leo.”

“Yep, just a few minutes!” His eyes sparkled, and he practically tackled you. Leo laid on top of you, laying his head on your chest and he was squeezing you tightly. He really missed you…

Leo-1, homework-0

He could feel the tension in your body fade slowly, relaxing little by little. “This is nice…” You mumbled and yawned, your eyes shutting lightly.

“I told you so.” He smirked. Man, did he like being right. You allowed yourself to just have a moment of peace, trying so hard not to fall asleep. This was a nice moment, and you wanted to take it all in while you could. Oh, and you also needed to get back to work.

“Leo…I need to get back to work now.” You tried to sit up, but he just pushed you back down lightly, nuzzling into you.

“Nooo! Shhhh, just relax, babe.” Leo cooed, his soft voice made you feel warm and fuzzy as he churred,“Isn’t this comfy?”

“Yeah…but you are kind of heavy.” You mumbled the last part.

He gasped dramatically, but didn’t move at all, he was too comfortable like this. You were fighting to stay awake at this point.

“ I need to…finish my work.”

“Shhh~ don’t worry about that right now, just relax. I’ve got you.” It concerned you at how well he could soothe you so quickly, and soon you forgot about all of your assignments as you slowly drifted into a much needed sleep.

And soon a few minutes turned into a few hours.