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#they're in kindergarten or whatever

everysongineverykey · 1 year

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the owl house was really like oh yeah by the way a significant number of children avoided being collected solely because they were hiding out inside this one high school and all the adults in the building and a few of their classmates and friends were turned to puppets right before their eyes and taken away and they've just been alone here ever since. yeah it's been months since they've seen their families. it's unclear whether or not they're aware that the collector's been using their loved ones as toys in reenactments of the adventures of a lost friend of theirs. there are kindergarteners trapped in there. they spent a significant amount of time and effort on a meticulous, perfectly constructed stone statue honoring their collected principal who was one of the only people protecting them when the collector's spies came and it's dorky and unprofessional but they're so genuinely grateful for what he did and they never got to thank him themselves. their "leader" is the former captain of the grudgby team who's deeply traumatized and terrified 100% of the time and only took the job cause she wanted some sense of control over a nightmare situation. an adult in disguise has been manipulating her to do what she's told this entire time. their food is rotten and moldy and they were so scared of being found they put a sign up outside that said "no non-puppets inside". yeah. it's funny though. it's just a silly joke. look at luz's new palisman!

#the owl house #toh spoilers #this isn't a criticism of new hexside's portrayal or anything #i don't think it's tonally bad or whatever to play this mostly for a joke it's a great segment #i just. god. i have a lot of thoughts about the new hexside kids. they're KIDS okay they're kids #and they think they're responsible for rebuilding society. they can't leave their makeshift home #without risking being collected or killed. hell they can't WALK AROUND INSIDE without risking harm.#i think about that kindergartener pretending to kill an enemy to 'save their father' and i just. sigghhhh.#the littler kids probably have even less of an idea what's going on than the older ones. god. do they even know where their parents are???#like. god. do you understand?? do you see my agitation?? ed fell into an empty well while running for his life #away from the spies #after trying to find and rescue amity and alador no less!#and he spent the next few months in a full body cast!! you don't walk away from that unscathed! he's a kid!!!

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fqiryspit · 1 year

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𝐃𝐈𝐋𝐅!𝐄𝐑𝐄𝐍 ! 𝐇𝐄𝐀𝐃𝐂𝐀𝐍𝐎𝐍𝐒!

eren yeager x fem!reader

cw: pregnancy, car sex, dicking sucking, pussy eating, pregnancy, marriage, children, etc etc

DILF!EREN ! who gets all the moms ovulating when he comes to pick up his baby boy from kindergarten

DILF!EREN ! who fucks you in the car really quickly before leaving for that grueling parent-teacher conference

"w-were gonna be late" you moan into his chest as his hips slap against yours, cock hitting deeper and deeper into you

"whatever, all they're gonna say is he played with blocks and crayons" he chuckled, finding your lips and catching them with a kiss and his thumb rubbing your clit as you cum around his cock.

DILF!EREN ! who has his dick in your mouth and it isn't even 7.

"fuuuck" he groans, watching your lazy eyes lap at his tip which is drizzling pre out, his cock standing on its own as veins pulsate and strain.

your mouth is so wet and warm, mumble about how you wanted him to have a good day at work and just started sucking.

DILF!EREN ! who eats you out mid-day because he's always horny and wants to see you moan and cry for him

DILF!EREN ! just walks up to you, wraps his arms around you and kisses up your neck, and just spews complements daily

"you're so fucking gorgeous" "I don't even know how I got you"

DILF!EREN ! who, after very hard consideration. (he never not thought about it, he was just waiting for you to bring it up) decided that it was time for you two to bring another baby into this world

"wasnt I already doing that?" he says matter-of-factly, grinning into your shoulder as you both lay in bed together

"eren!"

DILF!EREN ! who cries when your baby girl is born, and praises you daily for giving him his son and daughter, he loves you all so dearly and is truly grateful for everything.

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cupid-styles · 3 months

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renaissance (art teacher!yn x single dadrry)

in which y/n is harry's son's art teacher and he develops a big dumb crush on her. or: kids art teacher!yn x single dad!harry

word count: 6.5k

content warnings: none, just kids! some mentions of different types of familial relationships/dynamics (death of a parent)

masterlist | talk to me

. . .

"Alright, kiddos, let's clean up our big, beautiful messes!"

Y/N claps her hands three times to signify that class is slowly crawling to an end. Her hour-and-a-half art course for kindergarteners is one of the longest and, if she's being honest, labor intensive classes that she teaches. It's set at the end of the school day from 2:30 pm to 4 pm, designed specifically for parents that work late or need to place for their little ones to go after school is over. Most of her students' parents are single and working full-time, or have intense careers like nursing or... whatever it is they do.

Y/N weaves her way through the small smattering of children ambling over to the sinks. She watches to make sure they're having an okay time with washing out their paint cups and rinsing their brushes, followed by using the correct amount of hand soap to scrub paint stains away.

(That one almost always requires extra help — to this day, she tries not to get frustrated when she thinks about Johnathan dumping an entire bottle of Dawn soap all over his clothes because he had a tiny bit of yellow marker on his tee-shirt. It was the price she paid to teach kids, though.)

"Clementine, do you need a little help?" she asks, peeking over to one of her quieter students. With fluttering lashes and a slightly baffled look on her face (Y/N could always tell when she was getting stressed out by the way her little eyebrows wrinkled together), Clementine nods, and Y/N makes quick work to appear behind her. She gets down to her level, where her Mary Jane-clad feet are resting atop a stool to help her reach the sink. "What's going on, lovebug?"

"'s everywhere," Clementine whines lightly, her bottom lip forming a sad pout. "Paint all over my hands!"

"I see that, sweetheart! But you know what?" Y/N makes a show of pretending to look side to side to ensure no one else can hear her. "It's okay if we get a little messy sometimes. The cool thing about everything we play with in this class is that it's colorful and pretty, and if it gets on our clothes or our bodies, it can get washed away."

Clementine considers this for a moment. Her hands are still stuck under the lukewarm stream of water, where the caked on hues of bright pink and orange are slowly starting to fade away. "What about on my art?" she asks slowly. "Will that get washed away?"

"Nope," Y/N shakes her head. "That stays forever. But on your clothes and body? It doesn't stand a chance."

"Oh. Okay."

And just like that, Clementine's minor stressed out moment floats away. Y/N smiles to herself as she pours a bit of soap into her small hands and helps her scrub them together, the lingering paint forming a pretty swirl down the drain.

"There you go, lovebug," she murmurs as she stands back up, giving her head a light pat, "Don't forget to grab your painting when mommy picks you up, okay?"

Clementine nods and scampers away to her table. She chuckles, placing her hands on her hips as she takes stock of the kids. She has about 10 minutes until it's officially time for dismissal, and most parents are good about picking them up right at 4 pm. She thinks about playing a game with them to keep them occupied, until she sees it.

Riley Styles. With globs of red paint in his curly, brown hair.

"Oh my god," Y/N mumbles to herself, rushing over to Riley's table, "Riley! Can I ask what happened here?"

She tries to keep her voice at a measured, not-freaked-out level, but it's kind of impossible given the child standing before her is dripping with paint.

"My cousin has red hair." Riley answers simply before shrugging his shoulders. "I think she uses paint, too."

"Ohhhh, I see," Y/N replies, pressing a gentle hand to his back, "Well, Riley, I think it would be best to clean this up. It look like it feels a little messy and icky."

Her stomach is bubbling with anxiety as she glances up at the clock. There's now eight minutes to dismissal time, and Riley's dad is never late.

"But you told Clementine that messes are okay—"

"Messes are always okay!" Y/N exclaims in an embarrassingly high-pitched voice, "Um, why don't you come with me to the bathroom, Riley?"

She doesn't give him an opportunity to reply before she's looping his hand with his and making quick steps to the faculty bathroom. Realizing she's just left 15 kindergartens in a room unsupervised with a plethora of art supplies, she peeks into Lea's classroom.

"Lea! Hey, um, Riley and I need to go to the bathroom to clean up a little mess! Can you keep an eye on my kids?"

Lea, who already has her jacket zipped up and looks like she's about to walk out to her car, furrows her eyebrows. Her eyes widen when Y/N backs up slightly to give her a view of Riley, who has been trailing red paint with every step they take.

"Oh my god!" she all but squeals, and Y/N's jaw clenches, "Yeah! Sure! No problem! Good luck with that mess, Riley!"

Y/N resists the urge to roll her eyes at her friend as they finally make it to the bathroom. She glances down at her watch, which tells her that took a whopping three minutes of their time. Swallowing tightly, she tries to figure out the best plan of attack, ultimately deciding that it would be best if she just attempted to wash his hair with soap and water while he stood there.

"Alright, Riley, can you try and stand still for me?" she asks, already pumping an absurd amount of hand soap into her hand, "I'm going to try to help get this mess out of your hair. Don't you miss those pretty curls you have?"

He shrugs as she begins to lather the soap between her hands. "I thought my cousin's hair was pretty."

"I'm sure!" she replies, massaging the foamy liquid into his hair. She's never been so thankful for washable paint before as the tints of red that latched onto his strands begin to wash away. "She probably didn't use paint though, and it's important that we keep the paint on our projects instead of our hair."

"Messes are okay, though. You said it."

She grimaces. Why do kids remember everything?

"You're right, messes are totally fine! But those are accidental messes. It's alright if we get it on our shirts or hands, but paint doesn't go in our hair. Does that make sense?"

His hair is completely saturated with hand soap now. She doesn't have a better way to wash it out (other than dunking the poor kid's head in the sink, which definitely feels unethical), so she's simply getting her hands wet and washing out section by section. It's going moderately well, especially since Riley's hair is on the shorter side, until the bathroom door bursts open, followed by angry footsteps.

"Riley!"

Y/N turns, her mouth forming an embarrassed o-shape when her eyes make contact with a seething Mr. Styles.

"Daddy!" Riley exclaims, rushing over to his dad. He latches his arms around his leg, giving them a squeeze, and getting the watered down red paint everywhere in his wake. Y/N winces.

"What are you doing alone with my son in a faculty bathroom?" He demands, jabbing his finger in Y/N's direction.

"I'm so sorry! H-he put red paint in his hair and I needed to wash it out, this was the only place I could do it since the kids' bathrooms aren't big enough—"

"And you didn't think to take another faculty member with you?" He spits angrily. Riley's now running around in circles, shaking his hair out like a dog. "How do I know you weren't doing anything—"

"I would never do anything inappropriate and you know that, Mr. Styles," Y/N cuts him off, feeling rage bubble up in her chest, "You've been sending Riley here for two years and this is the first time anything has ever happened. Until now, both you and him have only ever been happy with your experience here."

Mr. Styles clamps his jaw shut, his gaze falling to Riley, who's now pacing back and forth with his hands behind his back.

"It's washable, then?" he asks through a clenched jaw. "The paint?"

Y/N swallows, then nods once. "Yes. Everything we use is washable and water-soluble. It was coming out fine before."

He straightens his posture and runs his tongue over his two, slightly overlapped front teeth. "Okay. Riley, come on, we have to head home now."

Mr. Styles stretches out his hand and Riley takes it happily, his smaller one clutching his dad's fingers. The sight makes Y/N's stomach squeeze, but she quickly diverts her gaze and clears her throat.

"I can grab his backpack and jacket," she says, boots clicking against the tiled floors as she walks out of the bathroom. Her face is warm and she feels tears lining her eyes, but she refuses to let herself cry in front of a parent. What she said to Mr. Styles — it's true. She's been working at the studio for five years and nothing has ever happened. She supposes a fuck up was overdue, especially since she works with kids, but it doesn't lessen the sting any.

She's surprised when she hears footsteps behind her, realizing that they're following her. She swallows the lump of tears in her throat and flashes Lea a small, forced smile when she returns to her classroom. The rest of the kids are gone already, their belongings and paintings with them.

Y/N walks over to the cubbies, where Riley has his jacket and backpack hooked. Gently, she removes them, and turns to hand them to Mr. Styles.

"Again, I apologize for today. I was helping another student clean up and I must have missed this entirely," she says, trying her best to keep an even tone.

Mr. Styles nods awkwardly, taking Riley's stuff into the crook of his arm. "I, um, apologize for insinuating that you'd do anything... unsavory. I know you wouldn't. I just panicked."

"I understand completely." she replies, and she means it genuinely.

"Daddy?"

They both look down to see Riley tugging at his dad's pant leg.

"What does usavory mean?"

Mr. Styles and Y/N's heads both snap back up, eyes wide as they stare at each other.

"...Nothing," he says with a small smile, making Y/N's own lips curl into a grin, "I got you dino nuggets for dinner. Doesn't that sound yummy?"

Mr. Styles waves goodbye to her as he pulls Riley out of the classroom, chanting dino nuggets! dino nuggets! on his way out.

. . .

When Riley doesn't show up for class the following week, Y/N sincerely contemplates poking her eyes out with paintbrushes.

She feels stupidly embarrassed. It took her two full days to move on from the whole red-paint-in-the-hair thing, in which she replayed every single moment of Mr. Styles staring her down like he wanted to pummel her across the city. And while she thinks things ended on a relatively decent note, she wonders if he was just being polite and now he was pulling Riley out of her afterschool art classes.

She's never had a parent unenroll their kid for reasons that weren't out of her control. Moving? Sure. Wanting to try a new activity? Understandable. Parents wanting to spend more time with their child? Y/N wouldn't dream of getting upset over that. But Mr. Styles, who always showed up at 4 pm on the dot in his neatly pressed slacks and crisp button downs to retrieve Riley from class?

She didn't know much about him. Unlike other parents, Mr. Styles didn't care much for idle chatter or small talk. For most of her students, she knew at least something about their personal lives or home dynamics — Reese's mom was a pediatric nurse, Tyler had a twin sister who preferred playing soccer after school, and Sabrina's dad passed away when she was a baby, so she lived with her grandparents and mom.

Anything she put together about Riley's home life was from pure speculation: His mom never picked him up, so she wasn't sure she was in the picture. (She doesn't think Mr. Styles is married, either, considering he doesn't wear a wedding ring, but that's neither here nor there.) He alway showed up to the art studio in professional work clothes, which led Y/N to assume he came straight from wherever he worked. Riley never spoke about having any siblings, so she thinks he's an only child.

And that's about it.

She spends the entirety of class holding her breath and mentally preparing for her boss to ask to see her once all the kids were picked up. Nina would probably start out by thanking her for all of her hard work over the past five years, and then before Y/N even realized it was happening, would switch over to her lack of care for Riley and the complaints made on Mr. Styles' behalf. She could envision the words leaving her mouth now: And so, we have no choice but to let you go, Y/N.

Except... to her surprise, that doesn't happen. Nina doesn't come in after dismissal and she even tells her to drive safe on her way out of the building. There aren't any meetings placed on her schedule in the week that passes by before Y/N's next course with Riley's group, and she's damn near shocked when her students come bustling in seven days later, the curly haired boy included.

Today, Y/N teaches them about working with oil pastels. She breaks the medium down to a very basic, understandable level for kindergarteners and lets them go wild after her usual 15 minutes of instruction, instructing them to let their creative minds run wild. It's one of her favorite parts of teaching art to kids — they rarely overthink it, instead just allowing whatever flows to come through to the paper.

Unsurprisingly, oil pastels aren't as messy as paints, so there's less clean-up required than their previous unit. At 4, the parents arrive in quick succession, though when her eyes flit to the clock, she's surprised when Mr. Styles still hasn't picked Riley up by 4:07.

She doesn't like to bring attention to late parents (she's found that some kids get all knotted up about it, worrying that something happened), so she usually has a few busy activities prepared for this very event. She grabs her folder of coloring pages to bring over to Riley's table, who's busying himself with peeling glue off of the worn, messy table.

"Okay, Mr. Riley, what are we in the mood to color tonight?" she asks, flipping open the folder, "We have a garden, a firetruck, or a puppy!"

Riley silently contemplates the pictures in front of him and for a moment, Y/N feels like some childhood psychiatrist analyzing his decision. She has nothing to examine, though, beyond the fact that she's hoping he opts for the puppy or firetruck so she can work on the garden as they wait for Mr. Styles. With his small tongue poking out from the side of his mouth, Riley taps his finger decidedly on the puppy.

"This one, pwease."

She smiles and nods, stuffing the firetruck back in the folder and keeping the garden and puppy out. Riley always expressed good manners, and his sweet "pwease" and "tank you"'s always warmed her heart.

"Sounds like a plan," Y/N pulls the cup of used Crayola crayons so they're within easy access. She buys a new pack every semester because, as she expected from her very first year working here, kids love to destroy crayons, even if they don't always mean it. Even from just a few months of use, the current 64-array is in rough shape. "Do you have a puppy at home?"

Riley shakes his head as he immediately grabs a teal color to color in the fur. "No. I want one, but Daddy says no."

"Puppies are definitely hard to take care of," Y/N nods as she pulls out a light pink for the flowers on her page. "I have a cat. Her name is Biscuit."

"Biscuit?" Riley giggles. Y/N grins.

"Mhm. She loves to jump up on the kitchen counter and eat whatever food I make," she leans in closer and lowers her voice. "It's pretty naughty, if you ask me."

Riley's giggles erupt into full-fledged laughter. Y/N can't help but chuckle, too, but it's almost immediately cut off when Mr. Styles rushes in, looking frazzled with a bouquet of flowers in his hand.

"Oh! Daddy's here, Riley," Y/N announces, standing up from the little table. Riley turns around with a grin, excited to see his dad as always.

"Hey!" Mr. Styles greets loudly, though his tone teeters on nervousness more than excitement. "I'm so sorry I was late. I had to, um... make a stop, and there was a lot of traffic. Rush hour."

Y/N nods understandingly, "That's alright. Riley, do you wanna show Daddy what you made today?"

"Actually, uh, one sec bud— why don't you keep coloring that... blue puppy, huh?" Mr. Styles's eyes peer over the page he's diligently working on, an expression of confusion making Y/N press her lips into a small smile. Completely content, Riley continues on, and Mr. Styles darts his eyes back over to Y/N. "Um, do you have a moment?"

She nods, swallowing harshly. She assumes this is it — the moment when he tells her that he's pulling Riley out of the program because of her unprofessionalism. It kind of hardens the blow a bit more given the massive flowers in his hand, which he assumes are for a girlfriend at home, maybe Riley's step-mom to-be. Or maybe he's trying to work things out with his birth mom. It's none of Y/N's business, but for some reason the thoughts swirl around in her brain, making her feel all the same — anxious, worried, self-conscious, and even a little down.

She leads him to the corner where her desk is so they're able to speak quietly and freely, out of Riley's earshot. Mr. Styles doesn't say anything for a brief minute. He's always been quite kind to her, so she figures he's trying to figure out the nicest way to say, "you're the worst art teacher and I never want my kid to be around you ever again."

"These are for you," he says, stretching his arm out to hand Y/N the flowers. Her eyes go so wide they feel like they could pop out of her head. It takes a second for her brain to compute the words and he looks at her expectedly, waiting for her to accept them. Finally, she does, hand clutching the brown wrapping around the excessive bouquet of stems. (Seriously, there's at least 25 in here.) "I wanted to apologize for last week. Again. It was... so rude of me to say anything even remotely close to that. You've been nothing but a bright light in mine and Riley's lives and I was just having an awful day already, and... kids are kids, they do silly things, and I shouldn't have taken it out on you."

Y/N's eyebrows still feel like they're glued to her hairline. She's beyond surprised. In her years of working with kids, she's had parents say way worse things to her, and she never received an apology for any of it.

"Oh... Mr. Styles, this is—"

"Harry." he cuts her off, a wrinkle forming between his brows. "You can call me Harry."

She nods slowly, still processing the information. "Harry, this is very kind of you, but so, completely unnecessary. I didn't— I love Riley, he's a great kid, and I was worried you didn't want him to come back when he wasn't here last week."

Harry quickly shakes his head. "No, no. He had the flu. Ever since he started kindergarten, he's been getting sick left and right."

"Oh," Y/N says dumbly, beginning to realize that she worried herself sick for a week over quite literally... nothing. "Oh. That makes a lot more sense."

He chuckles and stuffs his hands into the pocket of his slacks. "Yeah. So, anyway, I hope you accept my apology, and even if you don't, I understand. Just know that I'll have Riley try to dye his hair blue next time or something," he teases, his face instantly falling the second the words leave his mouth. "That was a joke. I'd never do that."

Y/N laughs. "See, and I think pink would fit his complexion better."

Harry grins widely, and she realizes she's never noticed the cute little dimple that pops out of his cheek when he does.

She secretly hopes she gets to make it happen again sometime soon.

. . .

"How was Riley today?"

Y/N smiles knowingly at Harry as she wipes off one of the empty tables. "You know the answer to that. You don't have to ask."

Harry shrugs, putting his hands up in mock defense. He still has one of the Clorox wipes in his hand, quickly returning to cleaning off the crayon- and paint brushed-filled cups.

"I just like to make sure he isn't a complete menace, that's all."

"He's never a menace," Y/N replies, tossing the wipe in the garbage, "He's always very well behaved and well mannered. Kind of wondering if you built him up in a lab."

Harry chuckles. "Nope. Not quite how those things work."

Y/N's cheeks warm so she turns on her heel to glance up at the clock in the front of the classroom. It's edging closer to 4:30, which is about as long as she likes to stay after work. She always makes quick work of cleaning up the floors and tables, de-sanitizing them little kid germs for her 11 am disabled adult class tomorrow morning.

Ever since she and Harry had that chat with the enormous bouquet of flowers (they're all nearly wilted by now, but Y/N refuses to just throw them out), Harry comes to get Riley a few minutes after 4. By then, Riley's the only kid left, save for one or two on days with bad weather. Y/N will have them set up with their coloring pages and, instead of immediately helping Riley pack his things up to leave, Harry just... sticks around. Riley doesn't mind because he adores the different print-outs he gets to choose from, and Y/N can't help the way her heart hammers in her chest as Harry offers to help her clean up or ask about her day.

It's been nearly a month of this — once a week, dancing around tiny tables and conversations accompanied by the scent of Clorox — but Y/N secretly hopes that it's because Harry wants to spend time with her. She doesn't see any other reason why he'd do it, but she doesn't want to seem cocky, either.

"Okay, let's get you two out of here. It's already dark." Y/N announces as she unlocks her small closet in the corner, pulling her coat and bag out.

"Is it alright if we walk you to your car?" Harry asks.

She turns around to see Harry helping Riley zip his jacket up. The sight makes her chest tighten. The love he has for his son is so incredibly sweet that it makes her feel crazy some days.

"Um... sure, if it's not too much," she eventually replies, swallowing harshly, "I'm just a few rows back."

Harry nods and stands up from his place on the floor. He reaches down, a silent request for Riley to fit his smaller hand in his.

"Ri, what do you say to Ms Y/N for all the cool coloring pages?"

"Tank you!" he exclaims, his free hand in a tight fist, wrinkling today's coloring of a dinosaur.

"You're very welcome, cutie! I love that you made the dinosaur purple today." Y/N says with a grin. She follows them out, but not before turning all the lights off and locking the door.

"Daddy puts all my pictures on the refrig—refig—refigerator?"

"Refrigerator," Harry says as they walk down the empty hallway, "But close. Good job, bud."

Riley looks up at his dad with a grin. "Yeah! Daddy puts them all up. He says they're pwetty."

"They are pretty." Y/N nods, agreeing with a smile.

"He says Miss Y/N's pwetty too, and that's why we always stay late now—"

"Ah!" Harry yelps, cutting Riley off with an embarrassed flush. Y/N presses her mouth into a line nervously, trying to hide the excited smile curling at her lips. The conversation ends after that, though Y/N has trouble ignoring the butterflies flapping in her tummy. She clears her throat when they approach her car, her mitten-clad hands pressing the 'unlock' button on her keys.

"This is me," she says, pulling open the passenger's seat door to put her bag in.

"I'm so sorry," Harry rushes out. "I— that's not why we stay. Well, it is. Well, I mean, I think you're very nice and I like being around you, and I do think you're pretty, however I'm not trying to do anything that makes you uncomfortable. I just— I, um. Sorry."

"Don't be sorry," Y/N replies, this time allowing the smile to flower over her face, "We can always... we don't have to just hang out here. Like, we can get a coffee or something. Not in the company of your very sweet child."

He scoffs playfully, nevertheless pulling his phone out and opening his contacts. Hesitantly, he hands it to Y/N, who pulls off her mitten before accepting it and putting her information in.

"Text me when you wanna get together," she says as she gives it back to him. "Also, for the record. I think you're pwetty, too."

. . .

Harry texts her the following morning: I haven't asked someone out on a date in a long time, so I'm a little rusty... would you want to get dinner with me on Saturday night?

Y/N, who learned the whole wait-10-minutes-before-you-text-back thing back in college, doesn't even let her screen go dark before she messages him to say that Saturday sounds perfect, and he did a great job.

On Saturday evening, he picks her up at 7 pm on the dot. She's not sure what she was expecting, but she definitely didn't anticipate him getting out of his car on such a dreary, cold evening, ringing her doorbell, and bringing her yet another bouquet of flowers. She tries her best to hide the fact that she's shocked by his presence on her doorstep, her boots clacking against the wood floors of her rental, as she promises him she'll be back in a second once she puts them in some water.

Gentlemanly as ever, he escorts her to his car, a sleek, black sedan. She's not sure what he does for work and assumes he'll tell her tonight, but it's apparent that he has money — she doesn't think she's seen Riley in the same outfit twice and he's always showing up to pick-up in a stylish suit that may cost Y/N's entire biweekly salary.

They make slightly awkward, first date small talk on the way to the restaurant, which feels silly for both of them considering they know each other outside of this.

"What did you do today?" Harry asks, and Y/N's not quite sure how to say "I stayed inside all day doing nothing" without sounding like an elderly woman.

"Um, caught up on some TV. Painted a bit. Nothing too exciting, really. How about you?"

"Riley and I went to a kids science museum. It was fun, he enjoyed it," he replies, tapping his thumbs against the leather of the steering wheel. "Do you do a lot of art outside of work?"

Y/N nods, "Oh, yeah. I went to school for it. I actually wanted to be a museum curator."

"So how'd you end up working with snotty-nosed brats like my kid?" he asks teasingly. Y/N laughs.

"It was supposed to be a side gig until I found something more permanent, but... I started five years ago and got too attached, I suppose."

Harry hums. "Well, you're great at what you do. I've only seen you work with kids, obviously, but I'm always impressed with you."

Y/N shrugs, trying her best not to seem slightly overwhelmed by his compliment. He had a habit of doing that — making her feel dizzy and melty, all because he looked at her for a beat too long or said something she wasn't expecting.

"Thank you. It's nothing special, though," she says softly, swallowing tightly, "What do you do? I don't think I've ever asked."

"I'm in finances. It's incredibly boring," he replies almost instantly, as if it's a knee-jerk reaction. "But, um... pays the bills. You know how it goes."

It feels like an add-on, but nonetheless, Y/N nods understandingly. It seems like it does a lot more than pay the bills, but she doesn't question it.

The rest of the drive is on the quieter side. It makes Y/N's stomach bubble with anxiety, wondering if she's being too boring and attempting to come up with talking points that fall flat — every time she thinks of a question, she talks herself out of it, assuming it would sound silly leaving her lips.

Thankfully, Harry pulls into a parking spot not 10 minutes later. They're in a quaint part of town and, despite the holidays coming and going, the streets are still lit up with pretty snowflake displays. It's on the quieter side, which Y/N also appreciates — considering the fact that she already assumed Harry was fairly wealthy, she had worries that he'd take her somewhere far too fancy.

He looks slightly dejected for some reason when Y/N gets out of the car, burying her hands in the pockets of her jacket. He hurries over to where she's standing on the sidewalk, locking the car with the key fob.

"You look like you're freezing, I'm so sorry," he mumbles, wrapping an arm around her shoulders. It's an act he wouldn't do under any other circumstance if she wasn't all but shaking. "I should've dropped you off at the restaurant."

Y/N shakes her head, "No, don't be silly. Where are we going, anyway?"

He gives her shoulders a small squeeze as he guides her down the sidewalk. "Well, you mentioned not being able to find a decent sushi place nearby. This has been a favorite of mine for a few years."

She glances up at him, a look of confusion on her face. "I said that?"

"Yes," he chuckles. "A few weeks back."

She knows it's true — she gets a mean sushi craving at least once a week but has yet to dine at a spot that she dubs her go-to. She tries to think back to their conversations over the past month or so, but it's a fruitless effort, especially once he holds the door open for her, his large hand pressed against the small of her back. Immediately, the warmth of the restaurant is a welcomed sensation, but the feeling of his touch feels even more delicious.

"Reservation for Styles." he says to the hostess, who, without even looking down at the book on the podium, grabs two menus and walks them over to their table. Y/N's thankful that they're placed in a back corner, where she can cozy up and, perhaps slightly unattractively, stuff her face with spicy tuna rolls and sashimi until she can barely breathe.

"This place looks incredible, Harry," Y/N says softly as she looks over the delicate menu. "You come here often?"

She only says it because the prices are on the more expensive side, so it's difficult for her to imagine casually ordering in from here. She glances up to see him shrugging his shoulders lightly, eyes still glued to the menu.

"Every now and then." he answers vaguely.

As if on cue, a waiter approaches their table, placing down a bottle of wine.

"Your usual, Mr. Styles," he says, and Y/N swears she watches Harry's jaw clench, "Shall we do another tasting menu tonight?"

Her eyebrows furrow and a zap of anxiety electrifies her chest. Clearly, he does come here often. Why would he lie to her then? Was this where he took all his first dates? Y/N clears her throat uncomfortably, shifting on her bum as she starts to let her mind spiral. Suddenly, she feels like just another pawn in a man's game.

"Give us a few minutes, please. No tasting menu tonight, we'll be ordering entrees." Harry says curtly. The waiter nods with a smile and leaves them be.

Without thinking much, Y/N leans over the length of the table, the bones of her elbows pressing into the bright red tablecloth.

"Do you always take girls here?" she demands, a bite to her tone. Harry's head snaps up with wide eyes.

"What? No, why would you—"

"Because you said you come here 'every now and then', but the waitstaff knows your wine order and asked if you wanted a tasting menu again," Y/N replies briskly, blinking at the man in front of her. "You know, I'm not just some girl you can mess around with—"

"Y/N," Harry breathes, shaking his head. "No. No. It's not like that at all. I take my employees here quite frequently and do business dinners here. I'm aware that it's on the expensive side and I just... money is an awkward subject."

"Well, it's even more awkward when you pretend like you don't have any—"

"I wasn't pretending," he mutters, swallowing tightly. "I know you're not like that, but I haven't dated in a long time. Partially because of Riley, but also because people I've been with have only cared about the money. So I just try not to let it be a focal point, especially on the first date. I'm sorry if I didn't do a good job of that."

Y/N's stomach plummets. She feels sick — she hates that she assumed the worst out of him, letting her own dating traumas get in the way of him just trying to protect himself. God, she was the worst first date ever.

"I'm so sorry," Y/N breathes out shakily. "I'm being an asshole."

"You're not." Harry mumbles as he looks down at his lap. "Just... first date jitters, maybe?"

She smiles gently. "Can we start over?" Harry flicks his eyes up at look at her. "I like you, Harry, and I really, really want this to go well."

She watches as his throat bobs, a smile curling at his lips.

"So, Y/N. What is it that you do for work again?"

. . .

Harry feels like he's known Y/N for his entire life.

When they leave the restaurant (she attempts to put her card down and he can't help but snicker at her before explaining that they already have his on file), her hand curls around his as they walk back to the car. It makes his entire body erupt into flames as their palms press against one another's, intertwining their fingers tightly. Their shoulders bump into each other's with lopsided, goofy smiles on their lips.

"Tonight was fun." she says as they approach his parked car. He gives her hand a final squeeze before unlocking the doors.

"It was," Harry echoes her sentiment. They separate briefly to get into the vehicle; Harry immediately turning it on to crank the heat up. "Would you wanna do it again sometime?"

"Yeah. That would be nice." She nods, grinning. "What did Riley get up to this evening?"

He chuckles, "He's with the babysitter for the evening. She's used to my late nights with business dinners."

Y/N hums, peeling her hands out of her jacket pockets now that they're a little less chilly. "So you're not in a hurry to get home, then?"

Harry's chest dings with a bead of nervousness. He swallows and flexes his hands in his lap.

"Sort of. Riley has swimming lessons in the morning."

It's not a complete lie. Riley does have swimming lessons, but Harry wants to stay out with Y/N more than anything. He's not in any kind of rush — he's just anxious about what she's thinking about proposing after not dating anyone since his son was born.

"Oh, sure," she smiles, and Harry's surprised by the way her face maintains its happy composure. "Well, we can just end the night here if you need to get back. No worries."

That makes Harry feel bad — the fact that she's just so incredibly understanding, even if he's feeding her excuses based on his own insecurities. He clears his throat awkwardly and attempts to shift in his seat to face her.

"I haven't done this in a long time," Harry blurts out. "And I'm very nervous."

Y/N's face crinkles into an adorable smile. "The date is over, Harry. I thought we established that we had a good time."

"We did!" he rushes, lifting his hand to run it through his hair, "No, we did. I had an incredible time with you. I really like you."

"So what are you nervous about?" she asks softly, reaching out to take his hand into hers.

That.

That's what he's nervous about.

"It's just... it's been awhile since I've liked anyone. Since I've... touched anyone." His throat bobs and his eyebrows shoot up as he realizes the insinuation of his words. "Not like that! Well, yes, like that, but— I meant, not just sexually. Holding hands. Kissing. We don't have to do a single thing anytime soon, but I haven't done this in years."

"You're nervous about physical touch?" Y/N says gently, her voice soft. He nods. "That's fine, Harry. Like you said, we don't have to do anything anytime soon. We can go at your pace, whatever that means."

"I... I want to kiss you, though," he admits in a raspy tone. "I just don't know... how."

Y/N's heart feels like it shatters into a million pieces. With a thumping chest, she leans into his side over the middle console and gently takes his cheek into her palm. His face feels cold from the chilly winter evening and he can't help but press into the warm, comforting feel of her touch. His eyes flutter shut and she smiles, nibbling on her bottom lip as adoration fills every inch of her body.

"Can I?" she whispers, punctuating her question with a nervous swallow, "You can say no. I just... I'd like to try."

"Please."

She's hesitant in her movements, not wanting to overwhelm him as she slowly inches closer. She tilts her head ever so slightly and presses her lips to his raspberry ones, eyes flittering closed as fireworks explode between their chests. It's perfect — it's slow, and it's leery as both of them try to find a comfortable pace, but of all the first kisses she's ever had, she's positive this is the best one she'll ever experience.

They sit in Harry's car kissing until Y/N's breathless. Neither of them know how long it's been but eventually, she breaks it apart, panting quietly through spit swollen lips. He keeps his forehead pressed against hers with a dopey smile.

"'s good," he mumbles, and she mimics his grin, "That was... yeah. It was so good."

She giggles and her tummy feels like it's filled with butterflies and carbonated bubbles and excited tingles.

"So good." she echoes.

He's surging forward with a grin to reconnect their lips not a moment later, and they're both positive they've never been so content before.

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ghxstyfae · 3 months

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A B C's ♡ R.Cameron Headcanons

Warnings: breeding kink with intent of pregnancy, nsfw, baby fever,

Synopsis: Rafes fiance is a kindergarten teacher and is experiencing extreme baby fever, Rafe decides to breed her

Taglist: @sunflowerleii

The new school year started and in walked a bunch of puffy-faced toddlers, happy as can be, everyday.

"Hi Mrs. Cameron!" "Have a good lunch Mrs. C!" "Can you help with my zipper please?"

Ugh they're adorable. By the third month of teaching kindergarten you were off the deep end. Your whole social medias were filled with cute babies and you couldnt stop picturing what a mix of you and rafe would look like

It got worse when you started dragging Rafe through baby asiles.

He kinda thought it was a joke at first

"You trying to tell me something baby?"

Yes you were!!

You kept telling him you "forgot" to pick up your birth control prescription

But he keeps using a condom? Does he not want babies with you?

One day he finds you holding little ugg baby booties you impulse bought, crying into your pillow.

"Whats wrong baby? What happened?"

And thats when you start wailing about wanting a baby and how he didnt want to give you one.

Hes just like "When did i say i wouldnt get you pregnant??"

Kisses your tummy and tells you how beautiful you'll look, swelling with his seed

"Gonna keep you home, nursing our little baby, being a perfect little mommy hm?"

He kneads your breasts and tells you that soon they'll be filled with nourishment for your baby

"Fuck should've had you teaching the kindies earlier huh? Wouldve made you a mommy already."

He fucks your hard, barely pulling out to thrust in again.

Probably about 3/4 rounds

He wouldn't pull out when hes done, probaly would make you cockwarm him for atleast half an hour.

"Its okay baby, you can rest, ill wake you up when i take us to the shower. For now just let it take."

"We'll go out for supper, make sure you'll get some salmon. Then ill pick up some tests and call Dr. Halls and let her know what we're planning for huh?"

Just keeps making plans, speaking lowly in your ears, even though he knows your probably not listening.

When hes sorta sure you've fallen asleep, he cradles you and whispers.

"Gonna make sure im better then my dad okay baby? Wont ever hurt you. Wont ever hurt out baby. You're the most important thing to me. Ill always keep you safe."

After a few weeks, you wake up at nearly six in the morning with morning sickness, and present a positive pregnancy test to Rafe and celebrate

He becomes MUCH more protective over you, especially when you start showing

The kids in your class are the sweetest, most curious little things ♡

"You have a tiny person in your tummy? Are they sleeping?"

Rafe visits her class multiple times a week, and the kids have become kinda accustomed to him

"Hi Mr. Cameron! Look at what Mrs. C Gave me!"

Once you go on maternity leave, he sets everything up to work from home as well, only going in once a week kr for bigger meetings.

The kids in your class make you cards and stuff💝

Rafe always gives you whatever your craving, helps you when your crying kr feeling over emotional, etc.

#fanfiction #rafe cameron #rafe cameron x reader #rafe headcanons #rafe x reader #rafe imagine #rafe x pregnant!reader #rafe #rafe obx

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preciouslandmermaid · 3 months

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💐💐💐

imagine being a kindergarten teacher who meets reid

maybe its thru JJ, maybe you've got Henry in your class, and she kindly, warmly strikes a friendship with you after Henry moves into 1st grade. and its a little unorthodox but jj and her husband are always willing to help out (when their schedules can allow) with school events and so yeah, you become friends.

and when jj introduces you to her friends/colleagues - there is of course a little bit of an intimidation factor (because hello...they are fbi) but penelope makes you feel so welcome (because of course she does. and you tell her your students would love her. and she offers to teach a tech class and youre like ok they're five but yes let's do it) and morgan shamelessly flirting, and emily being hot and intimidating and then there's reid, quiet, awkward, wont-shake-your-hand reid.

but there's something to it - a mutual nerdiness, perhaps, or how reid doesn't make you feel "stupid" just because you're an elementary school teacher and not a professor at a college (despite the fact that in many places you need a least a master's to teach).

imagine weeks later when you run into reid at the coffee shop. completely random. the sky is gray, uninteresting, and promising rain. he surprises you by remembering your name before there's a shy yet earnest quip when he says he's got an "eidetic memory." and you laugh warmly and spencer thinks its one of the best sounds he's heard all morning.

and it goes slowly from there, but it moves naturally, like a caterpillar forming its chrysalis

(when you tell reid this, somewhere after the 4 month mark since you've long stopped counting individual dates, he says; "did you know the word comes from the greek word 'khrusos' - which means gold - because of the gold color or metallic sheen of some pupae".

and in that moment, that singular moment, you admire the honey-gold tint of his eyes in the late afternoon sun spilling luminescence across the sidewalks and across shiny car windshields and think that you could already see the shape and color of whatever butterfly that was going to burst from its cocoon).

one time you refused to come over his apartment because "the kids used glitter today" and you didn't want to get it all over his place. so he came over instead, and you watched the iridescent sparkles swirl down the bathtub drain together.

imagine spencer reid laying his head in your lap, something heavy and unspoken between you, shaped in the spread of his fingers across your hips, in the erratic pulse of his heart pressing into your shins

the school doesn't celebrate Halloween, but they have an annual "trunk or treat" where people CAN dress up and trick-or-treat out of the trunks of their cars and spencer starts helping you, decorating the trunk with fake cobwebs, and skulls, and eventually diving into convoluted themes that you're not convinced kids aged 5-10 are totally going to get.

"it's jaws." he says, holding a shark head made of paper mache, "you know, the 1975 film? you said we couldn't do slasher horror movies because they're too gory for the kids but i'd argue that this movie stands alone as a great horror film with how Spielberg creates consistent tension throughout the whole film considering we don't see the shark until an hour and twenty-one minutes into the run time."

(the kids don't really get it, it's true. "sharks aren't monsters." they would say, or "sharks aren't scary." or "is this from Baby Shark?" but you and spencer have fun, passing out candy, sharing small looks to each other--so that makes it all worth it).

imagine something soft, sweet, something quiet shared over coffee with spencer. something gentle amidst all the chaos, the heartache, and stress of his day-to-day job.

"I don't know how you do it," you tell him, "seeing the worst of what the world has to offer day in and day out."

his long fingers stroke the underside of your jaw, "i don't know how you manage a room full of fifteen 5 and 6-year-olds." he pulls a face. "especially with the germs."

imagine bringing spencer lunch at the office - earning the knowing, sly looks from his friends and team, knowing you can't hide against a room full of profilers and knowing it doesn't really matter anyways.

:) ok that's all i got. <3

#i dont feel like writing a fic about this so have this instead #spencer reid imagine #spencer reid x reader #spencer reid x y/n #spencer reid fanfiction #spencer reid x you #criminal minds fanfiction #spencer reid fluff

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steviesbicrisis · 1 year

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Thinking about Steve and Eddie being totally clueless about their sexuality because they both had bro friendship which was more of a romantic relationship but they didn't know so they think whatever they're doing is just bros being bros.

Thinking about Robin being the only one aware of herself and those two idiots and losing her mind because of them.

*getting ready for Pride*

Steve: *rainbow stickers on his cheeks* how do I look?

Eddie: wow you're so pretty

Steve: ah thank you bro

Robin: what the fuck

Steve: *upset*

Robin: what happened

Steve: I had a date two nights in a row and I didn't have the time to see Eddie

Steve: it is outrageous

Robin: what about going on dates with Eddie?

Steve: ahaha you're so weird

Robin: *screams into a pillow*

Eddie: ... and she's like cool and all but, I don't know. She isn't my type

Robin: what's your type

Eddie: I don't know, someone who cares for their people, someone who acts like the parent of the group, maybe my same height, hot of course, and strong

Eddie: like, I think they should have the strength to pick me up, that would be hot

Eddie: and with gorgeous hair

Robin: sounds like someone I know

Eddie: What??? why haven't you introduced her to me yet???

Eddie: *DMing a campaign*

Steve: *sighs* isn't he cute?

Robin: you don't pay me enough for this shit

Steve: I don't pay you...?

Robin: EXACTLY

Eddie: Robin I have to ask you something important, it's about me and Steve

Robin: Finally!! It's happening! I've been waiting!!

Eddie: You knew I wanted to ask you who has the best hair??

Robin: I'm going to murder you

Robin: Steve of course

Steve: *on Eddie's lap*

Eddie: *petting Steve's hair*

Robin: Explain this.

Robin: in a straight way.

Steve: we're watching a movie??

Steve: *flirting with a girl*

Eddie: I hate her

Robin: you literally never spoken to her, how do you know?

Eddie: I'm a great judge of character

Eddie: *asking a girl out*

Steve: I hate her

Robin: give me one good reason to hate her

Steve: Eddie is a terrible judge of character

Robin: I'm tired of this, I have to get to the core of the problem.

Robin: have you ever had the same relationship you have with Eddie with any other guy??

Steve: Yeah me and Tommy used to be pretty close. You know, playing basketball together, sleeping at each other's place, helping each other with girls...

Steve: ah, and practice kissing of course

Robin: you quick, I have no time to waste. Who was your Steve before you met Steve?

Eddie: which one? I've had many close friends since kindergarten. I'm pretty sure my first friend was Andy, we would hold hands all the time. He was such a nice friend

Robin: That explains... so much.

Robin: OKAY THAT'S IT!

Robin: have you ever thought there is something a lil gay going on here???

Eddie: What? of course we did!

Steve: Robs we know you're gay

Robin:

Robin: I'm moving out

#steddie #steve and eddie and robin #poor robin #platonic stobin #steve harrington #edddie munson #robin buckley #steve and eddie #steve x eddie #steve and robin #eddie and robin #incorrect quotes #steddie incorrect quotes #stranger things incorrect quotes #stranger things #sbc writes

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teambyler · 29 days

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Mike was NERVOUS

Mike was so nervous when he asked if they could be "best friends" again:

He wasn't sure how Will would answer. Just like how Mike was amazed that Will "said yes" in kindergarten:

And Mike felt he had to make a FUCKIN CASE to be Will's best friend, when of course we all knew Will was gonna say yes:

Mike is afraid of rejection because he has feelings that go beyond even "best friends." Will is also afraid Mike will reject him; this is why they hardly called each other that year. They're terrified of asking for "too much," that whatever they feel is unrequited...

For Mike, being best friends with your best friend isn't something to be nervous about... if that was all it was about! ;) If Mike were a platonic straight best friend, then he would've gone about this differently.

-teambyler

#byler #byler proof #byler evidence #i feel like I lost you #you're different from my other friends #it's hawkins it's not the same without you #may i have your hand in... best frienddom?#oh mike #mike loves will #will loves mike #stranger things

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tantei-chan01 · 5 months

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I really like ur mute branch au 😊

I bet in this au, branch would've kept in touch with his former band Kismet and probably visited branch when they had the chance. And during their visits branch taught them sign language. I wonder how they would've reacted to branch being muted, but shocked that he's slowly talking/singing again. Or are they super protective of branch when brozone tries to get him (forcefully) to speak to them. I'm pretty sure brozone would be jealous/possessive of their brother (trying to make up for lost time). Or brozone being completely jelly of branch's new band family and support system.

Kismet and Branch were friends in the beginnings of kindergarten and have performed a few times before Branch went gray. They tried to be there for him, but their parents kept pulling them away when the rumor of gray trolls infecting other trolls began circulating. By the time they became adults, Branch completely isolated himself and wouldn't respond to their attempts of reconnection.

After the first movie, Branch was the one who approached them, apologizing for not acknowledging them. They started slow in redeveloping their friendship, but it’s worth it.

When Branch was being shunned for not forgiving Creek, they all openly shunned the rest of the trolls, especially Poppy. Going as far as canceling any performance they had agreed before hand.

When Branch came back from the events of World Tour, he wanted to start performing with them again. They all excitedly began practicing together again, reminiscing about the times they first started singing together.

Now that Brozone is back, they're going to keep a close eye on them. Kismet may not be a part of the Branch Guard (which is critters only by order of Mr. Dinkles) they will do whatever it takes to make sure he feels safe and happy

#trolls #trolls branch #au #mute!branch #trolls band together #branch #dreamworks trolls #trolls the beat goes on #trolls world tour #trolls kismet #trolls brozone #trolls hype #trolls ablaze #trolls trickee #trolls boom #ask #answer

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saiscribbles · 6 months

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What do you think of Skinny Jasper and how do you think she and Jasper would get along? They give me big sister and little sister vibe or friends whatever

I actually have a pretty complex headcanon about this!

I think if Jasper met up with the other Earth Quartzes it would be tense. It was mostly Jasper's lines in Fragments that put me on this line of thinking: "The only problem you have are your friends." "Can't you see they're holding you back?" "They're afraid of your power." "Those so called friends of yours don't understand, they want you to feel bad for being yourself."

This instantly gave me the impression Jasper was projecting. Big time. Maybe she was too intense even for the other Quartzes. And from some of the things she says in Earthlings it makes me think she's probably said some cruel things to them, especially the other Beta Kindergarten Gems.

"Your weakness embarrasses Homeworld You suffer because it's what you deserve! We all only get what we deserve."

"Every Gem is made for a purpose: to serve the order of the Diamonds. Those who cannot fit inside this order must be purged!"

"Earth is a prison. I got out because I'm better than this place."

Jasper I feel has always been very isolated. No other Earth Quartz was on her level. After the Earth was abandoned by the Diamonds Jasper was put into the service of Yellow Diamond's court while everyone else was shoved off to do busy work on the Zoo station by Blue Diamond. I doubt she's seen the rest of them since.

I think deep down Jasper's true core motivation is justifying her own existence. She came from the slapdash Kindergarten that existed just to quickly make more soldiers to fight the Crystal Gem rebellion. Homeworld lost that war anyway. The planet she was made on is now considered a point of shame. And as far as anyone knows her Diamond was slain. No matter how perfect she came out or how powerful she is her origins are always going to haunt her. So she has to prove she was worth making in the first place.

#Steven Universe #Jasper #Famethyst #SU Jasper #SU Lore #SU Headcanons

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kitorin · 1 year

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paper flowers

makes them for you ! (fails miserably)

saw a tiktok / instagram reel of someone making them for their boyfriend, immediately wanted to give it a go and amaze you, so he rushes to the nearest craft store, buying any paper products that have your favourite colour and shades. he's really ambitious about this project; he extensively researches bouquets and searches the internet for origami tutorials to recreate the prettiest bouquets, except one thing. he can't do origami for shit. he's never even succeeded in even making a simple crane, or the basic arts and crafts from kindergarten. as he struggles with even just pre-creasing, his panic nurtures as well, sweat trickling down his forehead and realizing this was a lot harder than expected. he's a professional soccer player yet he still can't fold paper as instructed. no youtube tutorial or origami book can save him and whatever he managed to create. he's a stuttering mess when you walk into the abomination he's created, all red and embarrassed when you giggle at his efforts of impressing you

isagi yoichi, kunigami rensuke, kurona ranze, zantetsu tsurugi, tokimitsu aoshi, oliver aiku

makes them for you, and is amazing at it

absolutely despised how you looked and how he felt when you noticed that the flowers he got you were beginning to wilt, that's when he decided to make paper ones so you'll never have to be disappointed about his flowers dying again. in fact he chooses the bouquet that had wilted away to recreate, finds out the exact name of each flower and a respective origami tutorial for each one. he's a perfectionist; a squash fold wasn't executed seamlessly? he now has a new sheet of paper. pre-crease wasn't strong enough? in the bin it goes (don't worry he's environmentally friendly and recycles everything). hours, days, even weeks are dedicated to this ambitious project of his, you, his perfect lover deserves the most perfect flowers. to top it off he attaches a little note, with his best handwriting, saying "i will love you til the day these flowers wilt away." a prideful smirk appears on his lips when he sees your joyful reaction to the gift, and he plans to make more in the future. (also becomes a hobby and a nice way to destress for him)

itoshi rin, yukimiya kenyu, barou shouei, otoya eita, chigiri hyoma, karasu tabito

makes them with you

proposes making flowers together after the ones that he got you had withered away, buys paper with both of your favourite shades and colours, and researches tutorials for all the flowers you love. hours are spent in your living room, carefully observing youtube videos and laughing together at your mistakes and realizations. it becomes a new pastime for him, even after this project he still offers to learn more origami together. they're not particularly amazing at origami, you aren't either, but neither of you care, it's what you made together.

hiori yo (but he'd be really good at it), julian loki, nanase nijiro, raichi jingo

he doesn't make them, you make them for him

flowers never meant shit to them. he's received them all his life for his achievements, their monetary value was non existent to them and he finds it stupid to purchase something that just withers away eventually. so when you gift them a bouquet of origami flowers, he's literally smitten. your flowers can't compare to all the extravagant bouquets he's received, yours were arranged with effort and created with love, that can't compare to money in any way. he basically worships these flowers, keeps them in his display case with his soccer trophies (heck he'd move some out to make space for it), because to him your flowers are just as valuable, in fact, probably even more. he really doesn't care if you're amazing at origami or can barely fold a crane, no matter how your flowers turned out he'd still treasure them.

itoshi sae, michael kaiser, mikage reo

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volturissideslut · 1 year

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What if the Humans adopt a child just to see what’s so special about humans and why the Cullens like them so much, not knowing how troublesome a 8 year old can be?

𝖁𝖔𝖑𝖙𝖚𝖗𝖎

strap in because this is going to be one hell of a ride (also I'm assuming asker meant volturi adopt a chaotic human child)

Aro, ever the curious one, cannot even fathom why dear Carlisle cares so much for these... creatures

And it's been like over 3000 years since he was human and he can't really remember much about living

It would also help if it would stop making Marcus be such a miserable slab of stone, and perhaps even Caius could do with a new toy

It just seemed like destiny when an 8 year old child strayed from the feeding group one day, too entertained by chasing a fat tabby cat that had jumped the wall to the garden

Whatever parent or guardian that came with seemingly hadn't noticed - not that they were alive long enough too

And, of course, Felix was the one to deliver the child to Master Aro considering he's the only one with a modium of decorum or respect for life in the castle

Any of the other guards would have eaten you on sight to be honest (they wouldn't in the future but you're just some random human child right now, they don't care about you yet)

Aro takes one look at you're little form, sticky fingers; muddy knees; grazed elbows; a leaf in your hair

Perfect

They're keeping you

easy, right?

wrong

Why is a overexcited yet hysterical human child such a lovable inconvenience, you may ask

well

1) none of them can fully keep track of you're emotions,why are children so confusing???

2) they can't fully keep track of your whereabout either

"HOW ON EARTH DID YOU GET OF THE ROOF YOU HEATHEN CHILD" - Caius probably

3) they know nothing, and I mean nothing, about humans. Expect them to ask the secratery for help next time you're sobbing, only to find out you're hungry because they haven't fed you a proper meal in days thinking you'd forage for it yourself

I swear Marcus is the only one who is knowledgeable, despite how small it is

"the child requires sustinence again" - Jane, fed up of this shit

4) they're used to the traumatic stuff of vampire life, you are not, they don't realise that

poor kid is gonna be so traumatised, by the age of 10 killing someone over cereal seems socially acceptable

At least Caius actually has a soft spot for you, otherwise you'd be dead dead by now

Marcus reads you bedtime stories

Aro wants you to grow up appreciating everything he does, there are many 'daddy/daughter dates' where he takes you to see plays, musicals, concerts, or whatever that he deems suitable

Caius pretends to be impressed with your drawings and fakes excitement at whatever lego monstrosity you've made

Alec shows you the world, taking you around on his days off to Scotland, Brazil, India or wherever you randomly point to on a map

Felix let's you use his cloak as a blanket when he's not using it, you like to play with it and use it for dens and pillow forts (it can also be used as one of those massive fabric parachute tent bubble thingys the class played with in nursery/FS1/kindergarten and hid under (you know what I'm talking about))

Demitri let's you win at hide and seek despite his gift letting him know where you are at all times. He is also not above pretending to play to keep you out the way and quiet for a solid five minutes before you come out giggling saying you won again

Jane will capture butterflies and set them free with you because she knows you love them and you also love to chase them

The queen's are always dressing you up like a doll and doing your hair, they basically get a list from the secratery of everything humans need (food, water, socialising etc) and fulfil those needs for you

The secratery is the only one who actually knows what you want and need most times, being human herself. The kings are seriously considering turning her instead of just killing her you your sake

And God forbid anyone touches their precious baby, you've grown on them and they'd burn the world for you in an instant

#twilight #twilight renascence #volturi #x reader #headcannons #hc #twilight saga #alec volturi #demetri volturi #felix volturi #jane volturi #aro volturi #caius volturi #marcus volturi #volturi guard #volturi kings #volturissideslut

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patheticbabie · 11 months

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oh my god, literally on my knees for kindergarten teacher! dick grayson, you genius

he's got the fun class, his class is always up for mischief

all you hear if you walk past his classroom, is little giggles from his students

whenever it's one of his students birthday's, he'll always have a gift ready for them

his kiddos love story time, because as I quote "Mr Grayson does the funniest voices"

now the first time you met him, is when your daughter Lily is a new student (moving to a new city is daunting for a little girl and her single mum)

being the new kid is daunting, let alone when you're in kindergarten, but Dick made sure to make sure she's welcomed into his class

he has a special lolly jar for when the kiddos get rewarded for something good

he figured that's a sure way to get her to be less shy

at the end of the school day, she was all smiles and giggles. Bouncing on the spot near Dick, while seeing you walk towards the two of them

Dick's eyes widen as he first saw you, you literally took his breath away

when you bent down to your daughters level and smothered her in kisses while hugging her, he couldn't help but melt and smile at the scene

"Lily made a lot of friends and just between you and me, I kind of got her to open up with some lollies"

finally looking up, you were greeted with the most dashing smile and ocean blue eyes that gazed at you softly. This man was downright pretty

both of you trying to keep your composure, as you both looked at each other

introducing each other with soft smiles and a handshake, you both swore you felt an electric zap run through you as your fingers touched

from there you always made sure to arrive at least 10mins early for after school pick up time, just to get the chance to talk to him

it starts out with small things, asking how about each others day, funny things that happened in his class, to asking what's happening on the weekend

one day, when you were dropping Lily off to her class, she handed you a small bunch of lilies, slyly saying it's for Mr. Grayson. As you watch her run to her friends and giggle (our little matchmaker)

walking up to Dick, you tapped his shoulder, and once again you're mesmerised by those blue eyes

"...are those for me?"

shyly nodding and handing him the flowers "Lilies, because well I guess you can tell they're my favourite because of Lily"

hearing that laugh instantly made you feel warm, wanting nothing more than to always hear it, every morning and every night

it wasn't until the end of the school week that Dick finally got the courage to ask you out

the classic, dinner, movie and the late night dessert spot

you two sitting across from each other in the booth at the ice cream shop, his eyes are sparkling as he listens to you

leaning across from the table, he reached for the little bit of whipped cream on the corner of your lips

"....there...." he whispered as he licked the whipped cream off his thumb

your breath hitched as you watched him

"Dick....?"

"Yeah sweetheart?"

"Kiss me"

your first kiss was as sweet as the ice cream, soft but delicate

it's 3 months when he asked you to be official, of course with the help of Lily

the moment you two told her, she couldn't help but giggle and say confidently "you're welcome, can I be the flower girl for the wedding?"

you both said I love you during a quiet night where he spent the night at your place, cuddling and talking about whatever came to mind

when you have a day off, you stop by his classroom and have lunch together

a lot of sneaky make out sessions (it's hard when you have a 5 year old in the apartment)

the night when Lily is with her grandma, that's when you and Dick had a romantic dinner, he cooked. With you distracting him with kisses on his neck, a few pecks and hands roaming under his shirt

he was soft and gentle when you two made love for the first time

#dick grayson #dick grayson x reader #nightwing x reader #nightwing #dick grayson imagine #dick grayson headcanon #nightwing imagine #nightwing headcanon #dick grayson x you #nightwing x you #kindergarten teacher!dick grayson #candice writes #;babies ask

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homunculus-argument · 1 year

Text

The thing about small kids is how completely openly they take the world they are raised in at face value, passively absorbing whatever they see or hear. Not even a pause and a shrug like "alright I'll incorporate that into my world view", or "huh, so that's a thing". When you've been alive for four years and don't remember much about the first two, whatever the adults and other kids around you treat as normal is just what normal is.

When I was in a training period in a kindergarten, one of the older workers had a habit of weaving rhymes and lines of children's poems into her speech (something that I've encountered in plenty of older women who work with kids). At one point, to get the kids' attention, she said "tytöt, pojat, muusut ja muut ruusut" - "girls, boys, nonbinaries and other roses", which rhymes in finnish and didn't stand out in any way from the way she usually talks.

I remarked that this was a cute turn of phrase, and she just shrugged with one shoulder and said, roughly translated, "well it's not like it costs me anything", which was true. None of the kids in the group were gnc in any way that I could spot - kids under 5 can be very adamant and expressive when it comes to gender, and there were a handful who absolutely delighted in stressing that they were doing Girl Things or Boy Things, freely and unprompted.

I heard her say that particular rhyme perhaps two or three times in the five weeks I was there, and while none of the kids paid any particular attention to the phrasing, that's something they've heard while they were there. None of them paused their play to ask what "nonbinary" is, but I guess it's nice that they're passingly aware that there's a third option that people might be.

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wannaeatramyeon · 1 year

Note

Dg crumbs please? With a reader who loves kids and is an educator online, works at daycares or volunteers to go to kindergartens? A sweet child loving s/o?

Thanks for the ask. I'm sorry anon, but child loving s/o is so not me (I have 2 furry children irl and that is enough lol). I changed up the fic slightly, but hope it still hits your parental instincts!

DG/James Lee x Reader: Baby

"What about Eve for a girl?"

"What girl?"

"Or Adam for a boy?"

"What boy?"

DG ignores you, continuing scrolling through his phone. As if his sudden questions made sense, and you're the obtuse one for not following his thread.

"Seriously. James." You could never get used to Diego. "What are you on about?"

"Names."

"Names?!"

He finally looks over, a smirk gracing his features. "Are you just going to parrot me all day?"

Of all the times to talk about this!

"Names! And you want to get... biblical?!"

He shrugs, "They're classic."

"James." A warning tone slips into your voice.

The kind that says if you don't give this conversation your full attention and stop with the aloof act right now, then there would be hell to pay.

He knows this tone well.

With a sigh, he leans forward, elbows resting on his knees. "Y/N."

You know James isn't the type to just make decisions on a whim, but still. You need to be sure.

"Is... Is this a serious conversation?"

"As serious as you want it to be." His whole body language subtly softens.

"I know I always talked about it, but you-"

"Maybe it's because I'm getting older. I like the idea of a mini you or me running around here."

A mini you or mini James. Wouldn't that be a sight to behold.

James can practically hear the cogs in your head start whirring.

Scanning over the penthouse, your brain is suddenly alert to all the sharp edges. So much glass and metal.

You conclude there needs to be some changes.

Glancing down the hallway, you also remark that one of the spare rooms will need renovating.

"Whatever you think is best," he agrees.

When you meet his eyes, he gives you one of his smiles.

Not the DG k-pop smile, all cocksure and alluring. Not the James Lee menacing grin, fangs bared and waiting to bite. The one that always reach his eyes, especially reserved for you.

"And," he continues, "The best part of having a baby is the trying."

#lookism #lookism headcanons #lookism x reader #lookism hc #lookism fic #lookism webtoon #lookism manhwa #dg #dg x reader #lookism dg #diego kang #kang dagyeom #kang dagyum #james lee x reader #james lee #wannaeatramyeon

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omnomnomdomcaps · 1 year

Text

Upstream - Remastered - Pt. IV

Finally reposting here, featuring the work of Bubblybuns, who you can find on JFF.

CHAPTER ONE

PREVIOUS CHAPTER

Chapter Four: Placement

Vanessa hadn’t been so excited all year.

She shimmied and twirled, basking in the flexibility of her new padding, and then lifted the front of her overalls so that she could look at herself one more time in the mirror.

“All the kids at kindergarten are gonna be so jealous of my pullups,” she began, as her mother entered the room, “I bet they’re all a bunch of dumb diaper-wearing babies, probably never even sawed one of these before!”

“Oh, honey…” her mother tried to interject.

“I wonder how long it’s gonna take me to become their queen,” the girl rambled on, “a minute? A second? What’s faster than a second? A super-second? Ugh, I can’t wait to show them who’s boss.”

“Honey,” Vanessa’s mother finally stopped the girl, “let’s remember to play nice, now. And I got you those pullups to help you for your interview today, but if you’re going to keep wearing them, you need to let me know when you have to use the potty, okay? Do you think you can do that for me?”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” the girl rolled her eyes.

Her mother sighed. “You say that, but you’re soaked,” she said, patting the front of Vanessa’s training pants, “when were you planning on telling me?”

The girl’s face reddened, and she coiled up into what her mother termed her grumpy pose. "Well, how was I supposed to know that!?" she exclaimed.

The girl would maintain her crossed arms and pout as her mother tore off her sopping trainers and began pulling on a fresh pair.

"Prolly doesn't matter anyway," she grumbled, "not like they're gonna make me go ta school with those dumb babies. I'm just gonna ace today and then they'll send me up to the first grade and then the second grade..."

"And what comes after that?" her mother asked, in the voice of a kindergarten teacher.

The girl blinked a few times, then shrugged. "I dunno, what?"

"Well, that would be third grade," the mother chuckled, "might be good to know that for today."

Vanessa rolled her eyes again. “Yeah, whatever.”

The girl’s eagerness only built as she entered the elementary complex, holding her mother’s hand. There was her old high school in the distance, where she had ruled so gloriously until this year’s sudden turn. There were the third and fourth- grade classrooms, where she had honed her craft of toying with the other children. There were the first- and second- grade rooms, which brought back memories of first imposing her will in the playground. And finally, in the very back of the building, there was the designated kindergarten, where a small crowd had gathered to await her arrival.

As she walked in, finally releasing her mother’s hand, Vanessa observed that the desks had been stacked up towards the sides of the room, leaving a wide patch of open carpet in the center. Her friend Fiona was in the corner, giving the girl a wide smile and a thumbs up while holding a phone out in her other hand. A handful of teacher’s aides were standing around, some of whom the girl recognized as old classmates. And there was a cheery-looking twenty-something, with a long, blonde ponytail, sitting at the teacher’s desk.

“Hello! I’m Ms. Henderson, the teacher here at the kindergarten. And you must be-”

“I’m wearing pullups!” the girl blurted out, lifting her overalls to show off.

“That’s… lovely, dear,” the teacher said, trying to shake the twinge of discomfort from her voice, “now I understand that you were at the high school last year?”

“Yuh-huh! I was the popularest in the whole school! But then some weird stuff happened...” Vanessa drifted off.

“And now you’d like to enroll in the kindergarten?”

“Yeah…” Vanessa answered, the energy draining from her voice, “I guess.”

“I think she means that she would love to,” her mother chimed in nervously.

“MOM!” The girl’s face flushed red again.

“It’s alright, it’s alright,” the teacher assured them, “we just want to find what level best suits Vanessa.

“With that in mind,” the woman continued, “we want to just make sure you’re kindergarten-ready. Is it alright if we ask you a few questions?”

“Okay,” Vanessa rolled her eyes, “fine.”

“Now then, no need to be grumpy,” Ms. Henderson began, her kindergarten-teacher demeanor coming into view, “why don’t you take a seat on the rug? Just right in the middle of our space here.

“Yes, right there,” she pointed, “right on your butt. Can you show me your best criss-cross applesauce? Hands in front, back straight, face forward."

Vanessa fuddled around for some time, trying to keep the directions straight, but eventually managed to reach the desired position, taking a cross-legged pose in the center of the room.

“Wonderful!” the teacher commended, before turning to her aide, “Mr. Thomas, could you please hand Vanessa the shape blocks?”

The man - who Vanessa recognized as a graduate of her old high school, from the class year prior to what used to be hers - did as he was asked, placing a tray of three blocks in front of the girl.

“Can you show me which one the triangle is?”

Shapes. Vanessa remembered them being brought up a few times on the shows she watched, but never paid much attention when they were. Still, she thought for a few moments before deciding on one she thought was prettiest.

“No, I’m afraid that’s the circle, sweetheart.”

“Not quite. That’s the square.”

“No, I’m sorry, that’s the square again.”

“Oh, I'm sorry… why don’t we try something else?”

Vanessa tossed the block in her hand aside, happy to be done with the exercise.

The teacher tapped her pen on her several times, scratching her head before turning it back up towards the girl. “Vanessa, sweetie, could you count to ten for me?”

“To ten?” Vanessa confirmed, as she tried to think how large ten was, “uhhhh… okay. Umm, one… two…”

The girl paused, looking at the ceiling for several moments. “Third?” she tried, unconvinced by her own answer.

“That’s very close! But not quite there - would you like to try again?” the teacher offered.

“Poopy,” Vanessa muttered under her breath, before losing her train of thought completely.

“Ummm, what was the question again?”

“We just wanted to hear you count to ten, sweetie.”

“Oh, okay okay.” The girl puffed her cheeks out and concentrated as hard as she could. “Ummmm… one… two…”

Vanessa stared once more at the ceiling, trying to think what the next number could possibly be. Was it five? No, that didn’t sound right. Third? No, something about that felt off as well. Eleven?

Eleven. The girl giggled to herself at the silly-sounding word. That’s not a number. How did I even come up with that?

“Uhh, sweetie,” the teacher said uneasily after a few moments of silence, “why don't you draw us a picture?”

“Ooooh, a picture!” Vanessa’s attention jumped over immediately, “Yeah, I draw the bestest pictures, you’ll see!”

Ms. Henderson forced a chuckle. “That’s lovely, dear. Mr. Thomas, could you?”

The aide collected a thick sheet of paper and a box of crayons from the supply bin and carried it over to the girl on the rug. He had a strain on his face from holding back laughter, but Vanessa hadn’t noticed it at all.

Instead, she was poised downward and hungrily licking her lips, eager to impress with this new activity. Moving quickly, she fixed the sheet of paper in front of her and then poured the box of crayons out onto the floor, grabbing the first black one she saw with such force that she could barely hear the loud rumble that came from her stomach as she did so.

Vanessa clutched the crayon in her fist and began to assemble haphazard shapes on the paper. First, there was a roughly made circle, and then a long line drawn down from it. Next, the girl added two uneven lines jolting out from the bottom of the long stick, and two uneven lines near the top. Finally, she added a makeshift smiley face inside the circle, and several clumsy waves around it to represent her hair. It was her crude self-portrait, but it wasn’t done yet.

The girl tossed aside the black crayon and reached for a yellow one. After pausing for a few breaths, she began to add the final element, a crown for her stick-figure avatar. She started with a misshapen triangle, pointing far up and to the left from the top of the figure’s head. But as she began to make the motion to draw a second triangle, pointing up and to the middle, she was interrupted by a sudden urge.

Vanessa scrunched her face, crayon still tightly in her fist, instinctively pushed her bottom upwards, and grunted. All around, there were gasps of shock and muffled bursts of uncomfortable laughter, as well as an audible “oh dear” from the girl's mother. Immediately, everyone in the room knew exactly what was happening.

Everyone, that is, except for Vanessa.

Vanessa let out a deep sigh as she thought back to that day at the kindergarten. It had taken several weeks for her mother to finally tell her the school's decision, but when she did, it hit the girl as both a shock and a revelation. Slowly, she began to piece together the mistakes she made, starting to realize that maybe, just maybe, she might have been a little too sure of herself.

So when word arrived that the town preschool would allow Vanessa to join in the coming year, with no preconditions, she made sure not to take the opportunity for granted.

The girl began to watch her educational shows more earnestly, trying to pick up all the lessons that she could. Most would still go well over her head, but bits and pieces stuck. At the very least, their frequent singsong and nursery rhyme elements gave her something to exercise her memory, with “Row, Row, Row Your Boat” quickly becoming a favorite tune.

She also began to pry curiously about the sorts of classmates she could expect to have at the preschool, although her mother was initially hesitant. And when she finally did relent and tell the girl, it became clear why.

Vanessa listened in horror to stories of almost perfectly potty-trained children, capable of counting past ten and reciting their ABC’s, and wondered how she could ever be able to compete with such intellectual heavyweights.

“Just play nice,” her mother would say, “and they’ll play nice with you. Share with them, they’ll share with you, and they’ll help you when you need help. Show them kindness, they’ll be less likely to pick on you, and you’ll have more friends on your side if they do.”

As foreign as the idea seemed at first, it did look to Vanessa like her only real chance to fit in, and so the advice finally began to take.

And now, at last, the day was upon her. After such a shocking exit from the top of the high school heap, after months and months away in infantile isolation, Vanessa was about to start her first day back at school. She tucked in her white shirt, adjusted her Hello Kitty backpack, and tried her best to get her short plaid skirt to cover her much-needed, thick, pink diaper.

But there was one more thing left to do.��

“One…”

The girl closed her eyes and breathed deeply, trying to think back to an episode of Blue’s Clues she had watched the previous day.

“Two…”

Excitement crept in as she imagined impressing her preschool teachers and classmates, proving to them that she truly belonged.

“Three…”

The girl concentrated as hard as she could, sweat beginning to form on her furrowed brow.

“Five.”

Vanessa exhaled and gave a soft fist pump, before opening her eyes and turning them towards her open door.

Briefly, the girl wrinkled her nose, wondering if a new smell in the room had anything to do with the growing feeling at the seat of her pants. But she soon dismissed the thought and strut forward, ready once again to take on the world.

****

#ab/dl #upstream

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