#also I missed her and wanted to draw her so yeah

[evermoreness]

hi lovely!! i had a random idea for a fic where reader is harry’s kindergarten teacher and he lets it slip to you that single dad james thinks she’s pretty? im just imaging a little 5 year old letting that information slip like it’s the most casual thing in the world and meanwhile james is dying of embarrassment hahahha. i just thought it would be cute :)

— This idea is so cute! Thanks for sharing with me, hope you like it! @iloveremmy

secret crush | james potter

pairing: james potter x muggle!reader

summary: dad!james is definitely ready to love again after some time, he just didn't think it would be harry's kindergarten teacher.

obs: feel free to send any requests!

masterlist

The small classroom was filled with laughter, crayons, and the chaotic energy only a group of five-year-olds could create. The walls were covered in colorful drawings, some resembling actual objects and others looking more like abstract masterpieces only a parent could pretend to understand.

At the front of the room stood y/n, the most beloved teacher in the entire kindergarten. She had a natural warmth about her, making every child feel special. She was also quick-witted and funny, always finding a way to make the most mundane things exciting. Her students adored her.

And at the center of it all, sitting on one of the tiny chairs like he was some kind of prince, was Harry Potter.

Harry was an interesting child—smart, playful, and with a sass level that could rival a teenager. He had a mop of messy black hair that never seemed to stay put, big green eyes that sparkled with mischief, and a personality far too charming for a five-year-old.

He had been extra sassy today, insisting he was "way too advanced" for their ABC exercises and that "Uncle Moony reads him much harder books." You had learned by now to just nod along when Harry said bizarre things like that.

You had taken a particular liking to him. Not that you played favorites (at least, not openly), but something about Harry made you want to protect him even more than the other kids. Maybe it was the fact that he was being raised by a single dad, or maybe it was the way he always looked at you with that cheeky little grin whenever he was about to say something absurd.

Right now, that cheeky grin was in full force.

"Miss y/l/n," Harry said, swinging his legs under the table as he colored.

"Yes, love?" you replied, crouching down to his level.

He leaned in as if he was about to share the most confidential secret of his life. "My dad thinks you're pretty."

You blinked.

Oh.

Oh!

You opened your mouth to respond, but Harry, apparently very pleased with himself, continued. "He says you're too young to have this many kids"

Well, you definitely held back the laughter, but as you didn't have an answer to that, you just changed subjects. You leaned over to glance at Harry’s drawing. It was a messy but clearly heartfelt attempt at a stick figure version of himself and his dad, complete with what looked like… a broomstick?

“That’s a great drawing, Harry!” you praised, ruffling his hair. “Is that you and your dad?”

Harry nodded, proudly holding up his masterpiece. “Yeah! That’s me, and that’s Daddy, and he’s flying really fast on his broom because he’s the best at Quidditch!”

Let's say Harry Potter was a really imaginative kid. He would always say some really funny stories about witches and sometimes, he would full on create new words. Like he was just doing now. You found it cute, but little did you know that it was actually all true.

You grinned. “I bet he is.”

Harry’s little legs swung as he beamed. “Yeah! And he says he used to be the best Seeker at Hogwarts! I wanna be like him when I grow up!”

“That’s a great dream,” you said, genuinely warmed by how much Harry admired his father.

James was tall, lean, and had the same messy hair as his son. He was dressed casually, but there was something effortlessly charming about him. And then there were his eyes—warm, hazel, and currently widening in horror as he realized what his son was in the middle of saying.

"And my dad also said—oh, hey, Dad!" Harry greeted, as if he hadn’t just delivered a verbal nuke seconds before.

James, who had clearly heard enough, looked like he wanted the earth to swallow him whole. "Harry," he started, his voice a little strained, "what exactly have you been telling Miss y/l/n?"

Harry, completely unfazed, gestured at his teacher. "I was just telling her how you think she's pretty."

You had to bite the inside of your cheek to keep from laughing. You found it cute how a grown man was becoming all flustered right now.

“I mean—” James rubbed the back of his neck. “I might have said something along the lines of you being… you know… a good teacher.”

Harry frowned. “No, you didn’t.”

James glared at his son. A warning look. A look that screamed drop it, drop it now, child.

Harry, of course, did not drop it.

James let out an awkward, nervous laugh, running a hand through his already messy hair. "Yeah, um, I don't know where he got that from—"

"You said it last night," Harry reminded him. "When you were talking to Uncle Pads and you said—"

"Okay, that's enough, kiddo!" James cut in quickly, picking up Harry like he was a sack of potatoes. His face was an interesting shade of pink now. "Time to go, say goodbye to your teacher!"

Harry, enjoying this far too much, gave you a knowing look before waving. "Bye, Miss! See you tomorrow! Oh, and it's okay! My dad only likes you a little bit."

James groaned. "Oh, for Merlin's sake—"

You, to your credit, simply gave James a bright, amused smile. "It’s fine. Kids say the funniest things."

James, still trying to compose himself, let out a breath. "Yeah. They do."

You tilted your head, studying him for a second. "Though, I have to say, you do have a very smart kid. And very honest."

James gave you a sheepish smile. "Yeah… unfortunately, he gets that from his mother."

There was a flicker of something in his eyes—something sad, something that made you instinctively soften your tone. "She must've been wonderful."

James nodded. "Yeah. She really was."

For a moment, there was a comfortable silence between them. Then, because James couldn't handle any more embarrassment today, he awkwardly cleared his throat. "Right. Well. We'll be going now. Before Harry decides to share my entire life story."

You grinned. "That’s probably a good idea. Have a good evening, Harry. James."

James hesitated for half a second, then nodded. "You too."

As he walked out, still carrying a smug-looking Harry, you couldn't help but shake your head, laughing quietly to yourself.

James Potter, huh?

This was going to be interesting.

As soon as they were outside, James crouched down and gave Harry a look of pure exasperation. “Alright, Prongslet. Why?”

Harry just grinned up at him, utterly unapologetic. “I like Miss y/n. You like Miss y/n. Uncle Padfoot said you should talk to her more. I was helping.”

James dropped his head in his hands. “You and Sirius are banned from talking to each other ever again.”

The aftermath

James Potter was dying.

Not literally—he had survived multiple Quidditch accidents, a war, and Voldemort himself—but right now, standing outside of Harry’s kindergarten classroom, he was convinced that actual death would be less painful than the secondhand embarrassment he had just experienced.

His five-year-old son, his sweet, traitorous, utterly clueless son, had just casually exposed his very real, very secret crush on Miss y/n.

He was never showing his face in that classroom again.

…Okay, that was a lie.

He’d be back tomorrow.

And the next day.

And the day after that.

Because Harry loved school, and James definitely wasn’t going to pull him out just because he got caught being a pathetic twenty-five-year-old with a schoolboy crush on his kid’s teacher.

But, Merlin’s beard, how was he supposed to look you in the eyes again?

But instead, he found himself standing there like an idiot, because—screw it—he wasn’t actually opposed to talking to you.

At first, James had been mortified, barely able to meet your eyes when he picked up his son. But as the days went by, he found himself lingering a little longer each time. It started small—asking how Harry was doing, if he was behaving (spoiler: he wasn’t), and if he was making friends.

But then your conversations stretched longer.

“So, uh,” he said, rubbing the back of his neck, “I actually wanted to talk to you about Harry.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Oh?”

James nodded, trying to look serious. “Yeah. His, uh… behavior.”

You blinked, looking at Harry, who was currently playing with another student and doing absolutely nothing wrong.

“…His behavior?” you echoed.

James cleared his throat. “Yes. It’s, uh, very concerning.”

You folded your arms, clearly humoring him. “What exactly is concerning about it?”

James hesitated. “Well. You know. The talking thing.”

You bit your lip, trying not to laugh. “The talking thing?”

James sighed, knowing you weren’t buying it. “Yeah. You know. The way he just… talks. No filter. Says things. About me.”

You did laugh then, shaking your head. “James, you do realize that’s completely normal for his age, right?”

James groaned. “I was hoping you’d say there was a cure.”

You grinned. “Afraid not.”

James huffed, but there was a smile playing at his lips now. “Brilliant. Well, at least tell me—how do I make sure he doesn’t casually ruin my life every time he opens his mouth?”

You shrugged. “Sorry, but I think you’re doomed.”

James sighed dramatically. “That’s what I thought.” He glanced at Harry again, who was still happily playing, then looked back at you. “Well, I guess I should be glad he didn’t say anything too bad.”

You smirked. “Oh, no, just that you think I’m really pretty and smile a lot when you talk about me.”

James groaned. “Merlin’s sake, why would you repeat it?”

You laughed. “Because it’s funny.”

James shot her a look. “For you, maybe.”

You tilted your head, grinning. “Oh, come on, James. It’s not that bad.”

He raised an eyebrow. “You do realize that I’m going to be forced to relocate and change my name now, right?”

You snorted. “Is that so?”

“Yes,” James deadpanned. “I’ll be John Smith from now on. You’ve never met me before in your life.”

You shook your head, still laughing. “Well, John Smith, if it makes you feel any better…” you hesitated for a second, then shrugged, your voice softer. “I don’t mind what Harry said.”

James froze.

Your eyes were warm, teasing but also… something else.

And suddenly, James realized—maybe this wasn’t as embarrassing as he thought.

Maybe Harry had just given him the best excuse in the world to talk to the woman he’d been secretly crushing on.

And maybe—just maybe—he was okay with that.

For the first time that day, James grinned.

“Well then,” he said. “In that case, I think I can survive the humiliation.”

You chuckled. “Glad to hear it.”

From that day forward, James’s routine of picking Harry up from school became a little different.

At first, he told himself he was just being polite—nothing wrong with staying an extra minute or two to talk to Harry’s teacher, right? Totally normal. Every parent did that.

Except every time, those one or two minutes stretched longer.

And longer.

Until one day, he realized he was actively looking forward to pick-up time—not just to see Harry, but because he’d get to talk to you.

Getting to know each other

James had fully intended to keep his distance after the Incident—as he now called it in his head. He had absolutely not planned to linger when picking up Harry, nor did he intend to talk to you for longer than necessary. But that's not exactly what happened since they had been talking a lot lately.

"Everything good today?" James would ask, standing at the doorway.

"Harry was a little sassy during storytime," you would say, amused. "He insisted he already knew how it ended and started narrating over me."

James sighed, rubbing his temple. "Of course, he did. Did he at least get it right?"

"Surprisingly, yes," you said. "Honestly, he’s way too smart for a five-year-old."

James smirked. "He gets it from me, obviously."

"Oh, obviously," you teased, raising an eyebrow.

And then, the next day…

"Harry told me today that he was going to ‘summon his broom’ to get out of naptime."

James coughed. "Uh. Kids have wild imaginations, don’t they?"

"Mhm," you said, amused. "Though, I have to say, that’s a very specific thing to imagine."

James quickly changed the subject.

And then, the next day after that...

He found himself lingering near your desk, watching Harry shove his tiny arms into his backpack with all the grace of a rampaging hippogriff.

“So,” James started, leaning against the desk, “should I be worried about his academic future, or is struggling with backpack logistics a phase?”

You grinned. “Don’t worry, it’s a phase. I think.”

James sighed dramatically. “Merlin’s sake, that’s a relief. I was beginning to think I’d have to enroll him in some kind of Backpack Etiquette for Beginners course.”

You chuckled. “Well, I do give him stickers when he remembers to pack up neatly.”

James blinked. “That’s brilliant.”

You shrugged, smirking. “Bribery works wonders at this age.”

James laughed. “Noted.”

And just like that, their conversation stretched past the usual parent-teacher exchange.

James found himself not in a rush to leave.

You didn’t seem to mind.

And Harry, for once, didn’t interrupt with any more mortifying revelations.

A win for James.

A week later, James arrived earlier than usual and found you organizing a small shelf of children’s books.

“Expanding their literary horizons?” he asked, stepping closer.

You looked up, smiling. “Trying to. Some of them are still convinced books are just really boring building blocks.”

James smirked. “Ah, yes. The tragic underappreciation of literature.”

You chuckled. “Exactly.” you tilted your head. “Did you like reading when you were a kid?”

James shrugged. “I liked it. But I wasn’t the sit-quietly-and-read type. That was Remus.”

You raised an eyebrow. “Remus?”

“My best mate,” James explained. “Loves books. Absolute nightmare when you try to pull him away from one.”

You grinned. “Sounds like the kind of student I’d love to have.”

“Oh, absolutely,” James said. “Meanwhile, I was the kid causing problems in the back of the class.”

You pretended to gasp. “You? Causing trouble? I would never have guessed.”

James smirked. “Shocking, I know.”

You fell into easy conversation after that, sharing stories about school, books, and the different kinds of students you had over the years.

James barely noticed the time passing.

Neither did you.

"Alright, I have to ask," you said one day, arms crossed as you leaned against the doorway. "What’s up with Harry and the ‘Uncles’?"

James blinked. "What do you mean?"

"He talks about Uncle Padfoot and Uncle Moony constantly," you said. "Are they even real people?" you said, knowing that those names were definitely not usual. Maybe they were imaginary friends.

James tried not to laugh, he couldn't explain it to you in a detailed way, you were a Muggle after all. "Padfoot and Moony are my best mates. They are very real. It's just their nicknames. Padfoot is Sirius, Moony is Remus."

You smiled, trying to understand why they were even called that. "I swear, sometimes Harry sounds like a tiny old man when he quotes them."

James laughed. "That… yeah, that tracks. They’ve been around his whole life."

You smirked. "So, which one gives the worst advice?"

"Oh, definitely Sirius," James said immediately. "He told Harry once that he could read his mind and my poor kid spent the rest of the week scared to think"

You burst out laughing. "That’s terrible!"

"I know!" James said, grinning. "Remus had to be the voice of reason that day, convincing Harry that his uncle couldn't read his mind"

The small talk everyday was becoming a habit.

James would ask about your day, and you would roll your eyes and dramatically recount whatever chaos had ensued in your classroom—kids throwing crayons, glue disasters, the occasional crying over absolutely nothing. You were expressive, funny, and had this energy that James found… comforting.

You, in turn, asked about James—not just about Harry but about him. His work, his hobbies, things he liked. And James found himself telling you, actually enjoying your chats instead of awkwardly stumbling over his words like he thought he would.

But, of course, Harry noticed.

"Dad," Harry groaned one afternoon as James leaned against the classroom doorway, chatting away with you while other parents picked up their kids. "You’re doing it again."

James blinked down at his son. "Doing what, Prongslet?"

Harry huffed dramatically, grabbing his tiny backpack. "Talking and talking and talking."

You burst into laughter. "Oh no, Potter, you’ve been caught."

James narrowed his eyes at his son. "Maybe I like talking to your teacher, kiddo."

Harry groaned even louder, stomping toward the door. "Ugh, come on! We're always the last ones now!"

You laughed, nudging Harry’s nose playfully. "Oh, come on, am I that bad?"

Harry sighed dramatically. "No, but Daddy talks to you too much."

James cleared his throat. "Well, I just—y’know—parent stuff. Making sure you’re doing okay."

Harry squinted at him. "Uh-huh. Sure, Dad."

You smirked. "Guess I must be very interesting, huh?"

James ran a hand through his hair, looking away. "Uh… yeah. I mean, no—I mean—"

You just chuckled and waved at Harry. "See you tomorrow, little tornado."

Harry grumbled something under his breath about adults being annoying and led the way out.

James followed, but not before sneaking one last glance at you.

Getting some advice (from the professionals)

By the time a couple of weeks had passed, James knew he had to do something.

Because this? This standing-in-the-doorway-every-day-for-way-too-long thing? This was not normal behavior. He wasn’t just talking to you about Harry anymore. He liked talking to you, period.

And that? That was terrifying.

You were the first person he’d felt anything for since Lily. It wasn’t the same—Lily had been his great, big, all-consuming love. But you? You were warmth, laughter, easy conversations, and teasing smiles. And that was something.

Which meant he was going to do the scariest thing he’d done since facing off against Voldemort.

He was going to ask you out.

Sirius and Remus, of course, had opinions.

"You just gotta charm her, Prongs," Sirius said confidently, lounging on James' couch. "Lay it on thick—tell her she’s the most beautiful woman you’ve ever seen, maybe throw in a ‘your eyes shine brighter than the stars’—"

Remus snorted from his chair. "Yes, James. Do that. That definitely won’t make her think you’re a lunatic."

Sirius furrowed his brows at his boyfriend "Hey! I think it worked wonders when i charmed you to like me"

Remus gave him a look "When did exactly you charmed me, pads?"

Sirius was quick to answer "Second year, of course, and it worked!"

Remus was trying not to laugh "Do you actually know that it didn't work, i just liked you back?"

Before Sirius could even snap back, his face surprised, James groaned, dropping his head into his hands. "I don’t need to charm her. I just… need to not make a fool of myself."

Sirius smirked. "Well, that’s impossible. But, hey, shoot your shot."

James was pacing his living room, gripping his hair. "I can’t do it. I can’t do it."

Sirius was looking deeply amused. "You, the James Potter, too scared to ask a woman out? This is history in the making."

Remus, sitting in an armchair, gave a long-suffering sigh. "James, it’s just coffee."

"Just coffee? Moony, I haven’t dated since Lily!" James threw his hands up. "What if she says no? What if she thinks I’m a terrible father for even thinking about dating?"

"Mate," Sirius said, sitting up. "I promise you, the last thing she’s thinking is that you’re a terrible father. She likes you."

James scoffed. "She doesn’t like me."

Sirius smirked. "Oh, yeah? Then why does she always smile at you? And laugh at your terrible dad jokes? And talk to you for an eternity?"

"That’s just—she’s nice!" James insisted.

Remus gave him a knowing look. "James. Just ask her."

James groaned. "Fine. But if I make an idiot of myself, I’m blaming both of you."

He was really going to ask you out.

Taking actions

It was a Friday afternoon. James had spent the entire day hyping himself up. This was it. No more standing around like an idiot. No more pretending he was just talking about Harry.

He was going to ask you out. Casually. Coolly. Like a totally normal, smooth person.

(He was absolutely not smooth.)

"Hey, y/n," James started as he leaned on the doorway of the classroom, trying to look relaxed.

You, who was organizing a chaotic pile of paper, looked up and smiled. "Hey, Potter. You’re right on time for the usual end-of-the-day complaints from your son."

Harry, currently sulking with his backpack, threw up his hands. "They played ring around the rosie today! Do you know how boring that is?!"

You laughed. "What, not exciting enough for you?"

"No!"

James smirked. "That’s tragic, mate."

Harry crossed his arms. "Can we go now or are you gonna talk for twenty years again?"

James cleared his throat. Now or never.

"Actually," he said, looking at you, "I was wondering if you wanted to grab a coffee sometime."

You blinked. "What?"

James internally panicked. "Casual coffee. Like—like two people, drinking coffee, talking, existing in the same space—"

You raised an amused eyebrow. "Are you asking me out?"

James wanted to die. "I—I mean—yeah? But, like, you don’t have to—"

You grinned. "James."

He swallowed. "Yeah?"

"I’d love to."

James froze. "Wait. What?"

You smirked. "I said yes, Potter. You good?"

James stared at you, processing, before a slow grin spread across his face. "Oh. Well. That’s… good. That’s great. That’s—"

Harry groaned. "Finally!"

James turned to him. "Oh, what now?!"

Harry threw his hands up. "It took you forever to ask her! I thought you were never gonna do it!"

You laughed. "Seriously?"

James groaned. "Can’t anything be a secret in this family?"

You just smirked. "Apparently not."

James, still grinning, nodded. "Alright then. Coffee it is."

And for the first time in a long time, James felt something that wasn’t just surviving. He felt happy.

[heartsforjh]

reader having big crowd anxiety and qhughes picking up on it leading her through the crowd? 🥲

here you go nonnie! i hope you like! :)

main masterlist | 100 follower celly masterlist

As your boyfriend opens the door for you, a wave of loud talking and laughter hits you immediately. It always amazes you how many people come to these events for Quinn’s work. It’s easy to forget the amount of effort that goes into those fun little games on ice.

You step inside, glancing around as the herd of people closest to the door turns toward you. Naturally, their gaze lingers on Quinn—and then shift to you, standing right beside him. Quinn waves to a few people as the two of you move deeper into the room.

“We’ve gotta find the guys. They’re around here somewhere,” Quinn says, scanning the room.

You nod quickly. Surely being around familiar faces will help ease the nerves that are already starting to build up from all of the attention.

You squeeze his hand, trying to focus on the warmth and pressure of his grip as he holds yours. “Yeah, let’s find them.”

He leads you through the bustling crowd until he eventually spots Elias Pettersson and Conor Garland.

“Hey, you two,” Conor greets, pulling both you and Quinn in for hugs, with Petey following suit.

Quinn’s hand finds its place on your waist as he settles into conversation with his friends. You chime in here and there when something catches your interest, the comfort of their company gradually putting you at ease.

For a while, you feel better, laughing and chatting with the small group. But that changes the second your purse slips from your hand and falls to the ground with a thud. Instinctively, you look around to see if anyone notices, expecting a few fleeting glances.

Your stomach drops when you’re reminded just how many people are around, and they’re all staring. Not just glancing, but staring. Why are they staring? Their eyes linger, waiting—maybe for you to pick it up. The pit in your stomach grows as you start wondering what they might be thinking.

Your chest immediately tightens. The room feels louder and everyone seems closer. When did they get so close? Your chest moves up and down rapidly, desperately trying to get a full breath, but the air gets stuck in your throat.

“Babe, you okay?” Quinn’s voice cuts through the haze, grounding you.

You blink, and suddenly the world is back in focus. He’s holding your purse, having picked it up amidst your small panic.

“I’m- I’m fine,” you stammer, unconvincingly.

Quinn’s eyes search yours, concern etched across his face. “You’re shaking, sweetheart.” His tone is gentle, careful not to draw any more unwanted attention to you.

“I told you—I’m okay,” you insist, but your body betrays you with a slight sway.

Quinn sighs softly, placing his hands on your hips to steady you. “Well, this isn’t okay with me. Come on, let’s go talk.”

Taking your hand, he quietly leads you out of the crowded party room and into the hallway.

Once outside, you squeeze your eyes shut for a moment, trying to calm your racing heart. “Quinn, we don’t have to do this. We should go back in—this is for your job.”

“Y/n, baby, we can go if that’s what you need. It’s just a New Year’s party. We’ll do our own New Years at home,” he assures you, brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You sigh, guilt creeping in. “I just feel selfish. You’re the face of the Canucks—people are going to stare. You shouldn’t have to miss this just because I’m… freaking out.”

Quinn shakes his head, his thumbs brushing against your cheeks as he cups your face in his hands. “You don’t have to get used to anything. You’re dealing with something, and that’s okay. You’re not doing anything wrong. Besides, I can’t enjoy this if I know my girl’s struggling, can I?”

His words melt some of your worries, and a small smile breaks through. “No, I guess not.”

“Also,” he adds with a small grin, “between you and me, I didn’t want to come to this thing anyway.”

You raise an eyebrow, feigning offense. “Wow, so you’re just using me as an excuse to ditch?!”

“What? No! That’s not what I was trying to say! I meant—” his eyes widen, and he fumbles over his words, making you giggle.

“You know what I meant!” he huffs, shaking his head. “You’re a jerk.”

“It was just a joke!” you tease, still laughing as you walk towards the exit with him, hand-in-hand.

Quinn gives a small, dramatic pout. “Why are you so mean to me?”

“I’m not mean to you! I was kidding!” you repeat while laughing even more at his reaction.

Secretly, he’s overjoyed to hear you laughing, even if it is at his expense. He’d gladly let himself be the punchline to your jokes as long as he gets to hear that favorite sound of his.

tags: @beenucks @lukey-pookie-hughes43 @sweetestdesire @azure-dawn81 @emsdevs @puckmedude @joesnumerouno @alex-wotton @r0wdymaize86 @ccomandercody @macklin-celebrini-71 @randomcuboidshape @when-im-with-you @quillycrow @rainyvalentines @alwaysclassyeagle

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[chxmpagneprxblem]

Chapter Three - Sunshine

Tough Love Masterlist

“Paul LaHote asked me on a date and I kind of want to go on it.” Leah looked up from her DVD collection and stared at you from where you sat on her sofa.

Thursdays were a long honed tradition. You and Leah spent every Thursday having a movie night and a sleepover and neither of you ever broke that.

So you had gotten all of three days holding in the secret of Paul asking you out. You still hadn’t given him a definite answer. He had given you his number instead. You hadn’t called him yet.

“What?” Leah asked, dropping back from her crouched position to sit on the ground. You stared at her for a second before dropping her gaze to pick at the edge of your nail.

“Paul. He asked me out.” You explained without looking up. “I haven’t told him I’d go.”

“But you want to?” Leah asked, confused. You knew why she was confused. She’d never even heard you mention Paul in any capacity only to hate on Sam and his followers.

“I mean. Kind of?” You knew you sounded unsure. “He fixed up my car the last time. And he did loads of extra things too. And he didn’t charge me, just asked me out. And he’s sort of funny. And really hot.”

“And friends with Sam.” Leah finished and you deflated. You nodded and looked up at Leah who didn’t look mad, just confused still.

“And friends with Sam.” You sighed. She nodded again and you chewed on your bottom lip. “I would never dream of forgiving him for what he’s done. And I wouldn’t hang out with them, like ever.”

“You really want to go on this date, huh?” Leah asked and you nodded again. “You won’t leave?”

“Never. Not ever Leah! You know that. I’d rather cut my arm off.” You promised her, clambering off the sofa to sit next to her. “He’s probably gonna be terrible and it won’t be a good date and I’ll have to come back her and complain about it all.”

“Probably.” Leah agreed, her voice suspiciously thick. “And I’d listen, you know, even if it’s a really good date and you have the best time.”

“I love you, you know that?” You asked her softly. “More than I’ll ever love a dumb guy.”

“You better. We made a pact, a blood vow.” She reminded you and you both held up scarred little fingers. “That scar means you can’t ever pick anyone over me.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it.”

…

“So about that movie?” You asked into the receiver, watching your father in the living room who was transfixed by the game.

“Kind of late notice, isn’t it?” Paul asked with a chuckle and you rolled your eyes.

“Well if you’re not interested anymore then-“

“Hey! No! I didn’t say that. I can pick you up in like an hour, maybe an hour and a half?” He rushed out and you laughed, drawing a look from your father.

“Make it an hour and we’ll see if there’s time for that pizza after.” You warned and he called an affirmative before you hung up.

“That wasn’t your Leah laugh.” You narrowed your eyes at your father who only raised his hands. “Just wondering who’s taking my Sunshine out.”

“You don’t know him.” You assured your father. He raised his eyebrows and you sighed. “Paul LaHote.”

“Lives down on the Rez, don’t he?” Charlie asked and you sighed heavily again. “Good kid. Billy talks highly of him.”

“He’s not a kid and either am I. So don’t wait up tonight.” You warned and Charlie guffawed.

“You’re twenty one kid. You still live under my roof. Have your ass back in bed by two in the morning or I’ll coming looking for you. Siren and all.” He warned, you knew he was only partially kidding.

“You suck, Chief.”

“Yeah, get used to it, Sunshine.”

…

“Fifty six minutes. I hope you timed me.” Paul grinned and presented a bouquet of yellow gardenias with soil still on the roots.

“I’ll close the door if I look across the road and see Mrs Herschel is missing any flowers.” You warned. You felt more than heard your father step into the hallway. “Go away, Chief.”

“I took those flowers from my mom’s garden who offered them up. Also, hey there Chief Swan.” Paul waved to your stoic father.

“Don’t be a bootlicker, Paul. His name is Charlie and if he wants dinner tomorrow he should get back in the living room.” You didn’t turn to look at your father but you did take the flowers from Paul and hold them out for your father to take. “Could you put these in a vase please, we’ll be late.”

“Two at the latest, Sunshine. Or the sirens are coming out.” Charlie warned as you shrugged on your jacket.

“That would break the domestic noise level law. Don’t break your own rules, Chief. I’ll be home when I’m home. No earlier and no later.” You shut the door behind you and Paul chuckled warmly. “My sister has given him so much to worry about that he forgets I’m not her.”

“She was dating that Cullen guy, right?” Paul asked and you nodded, following him to his truck. He paused by the passenger door and opened it for you.

“Yeah. That’s the guy. He really did a number on her. So now all guys are the worst in the world.” You explained before he closed your door. He jogged around the front of the truck and pulled his own door open.

“He’s just protective of you. That’s what a dad is supposed to do.” Paul shrugged and you rolled your eyes.

“Bootlicker.” You whispered and he laughed again before backing the truck out of your drive.

“I ain’t a bootlicker. I’m respecting the man who brought my date into the world. Or isn’t that allowed, Sunshine?” Paul asked teasingly.

“Don’t you dare. It’s a stupid nickname he gave me when I was a kid and I’ve been trying a long time to shake it.” You knew from his laugh it wasn’t going anywhere soon.

…

“By movie I assumed you would be taking me to Port Angeles.” You told him when he went the opposite way out of Forks. He only shrugged his shoulders and you swatted at him. “Where are we going?”

“You don’t rent an R-Rated movie and then watch it in theater.” He reminded you and you narrowed your eyes at him.

“Sounds like an intentional bid to get me back to your place. Did you kick your mom out for the night?” You asked and he laughed.

“I don’t live with my mom.” He corrected and you rolled your eyes. “I went by her place earlier and grabbed the flowers. I got my own place.”

“Bought your own place with a couple of garage shifts?” You asked and he shook his head, turning off the highway towards LaPush.

“My grandpa left it to me. I don’t know why you think I’m trying to pull a fast one on you. I’m an honest guy.” Paul shrugged and you chewed on your bottom lip.

“I’ve been mean. To you. And you just put all that aside to ask me out.” You admitted quietly and Paul shrugged again. “No, don’t brush it off. I have a reason to be mad at Sam but I dragged you and Jared into it too.”

“You don’t understand the situation. I won’t hold it against you for being a good friend.” Paul promised and you sighed again.

“I, you have to understand, I can’t be their friend. I can’t hurt Leah like that. And they’re your friends. I know that. If you can’t excuse that then this won’t work.” You told him. He pulled into a long dirt drive and you watched him quietly think about your words.

“I think that maybe if I had been around for the Sam and Leah thing I would feel as you do. I see it differently than you do so I can be his friend. It’s perspective and I won’t ask you to be friends with someone you don’t want to be.” He huffed a breath as if the whole sentence had taken years off his laugh.

“You worded that very intentionally.” You pointed out when he parked outside a small cottage.

“Sam is my friend. That won’t change. Leah is your friend. That won’t change. Sam broke Leah’s heart. There’s no changing that either. We’ll just have to find a way to figure it all out.” You nodded slowly.

“Only if this date is any good.” You teased and he laughed.

…

“Terrible. Worst date of my life. I’ll never see him again.” You brushed past Leah at the door and made straight for her room.

“Oh, so you’re gonna marry this boy?” She asked as you flopped down, face first, into her bed.

“Leah. I can not explain how much I want to spend my life with him. We’re going to have three children and Billy will officiate and you’ll be my bridesmaid.” You turned your face to speak before burying your head in her mattress to scream at the top of your lungs.

“Jeez, take it down a notch.” Leah sighed and flipped down next to you.

“Dude, you’re fucking on fire.” You pushed up on your elbows to free one hand to check her temperature. “Are you sick?”

“I feel weird. Achey. It’s nothing. Probably my period coming on.” She sighed and rolled over to face you. “Tell me everything.”

“He brought me flowers. We watched a movie at his place and he ordered pizza. We cuddled a little.” Leah raised her eyebrow at your blushing. “Okay so we made out. Like a lot. It was good. He’s so strong and he just lifted me into his lap. He even made sure I was home in time for Charlie’s bullshit made up curfew.”

“Paul LaHote, a gentleman?” Leah asked with a laugh. “He must really like you.”

“I told him. You know. That I couldn’t be friends with his friends. That I wouldn’t do it to you.” You promised, linking your little finger with hers. She smiled and then sighed, rolling so her face was pressed into the blanket. You wrapped your arms around her and lay with her in silence.

“Love you, Lee.”

“Love you too, Sunshine.”

[cxssi3-bxxx]

✦☾~ Miss, Furina de Fontaine! I love her a lot, I don't really like Genshin Impact that much since I don't have the patience to farm Primo gems and get the characters I want, but I still love Furina (And other characters) a lot! <3 ✮⭒ ✦☾~ To be honest at the start I wanted to make a drawing with rendered coloring, but, uh... Making the sketch and lineart of this drawing took SO much time that I ended up deciding that I'd rather not draw than render this. (I also didn't color it correctly because of this same reason, but whatever) ✮⭒ ✦☾~ Also, I realized I should put a watermark on my drawings, I don't think I'll ever put it again on my drawings since I will forget how I made it today, butttttt yeah, maybe I'll try putting it on important drawings that I liked a lot. ✮⭒

[amyrosedaily]

Day 43: Synchronized (Sonictober day 14)

You'll tell her she did good right?

PLEASE! Donate to save Muhammad Shehab's family! Main Post | GoFundMe

[turtleblogatlast]

Things I make for myself when insomnia kicks in

Just a chart about what I wanna change up and keep consistent in my art - I mainly wanna draw Raph with a tail because he deserves one, it fits too well. Donnie gets a long tail too because I didn’t realize how dino-like he looks until I gave him one, and now it’s a must for me haha.

[quinn-pop]

im not sure what happened to me but suddenly i love queen ripple and she’s my new dress up doll

anyway, let’s talk about her!!

taking the fact that ribbon’s name is ribbon entirely too far (and going off their designs) i think it’d be cool if ripple star fashions leaned into frills, bows, and long or exaggerated silhouettes

since the planet is literally just a heart shape i imagine their aesthetics lean into that sort of romantic and elegant vibe. a lot of ivory, pinks, and reds

(ripple dresses up a little different to see her friends tho)

also flower and butterfly motifs. because they’re fairies of course <3

think it’d be a little ironic if butterflies were a symbol of beauty and all that…

also she’s friends with carol and dedede. they can go to pta meetings or something /j

(taranza can come sometimes too because he’s cool and it makes sense to me)

btw ripple star probably exports a lot of silks (because silkworms in a land of butterflies feels right) and luxury items whereas dreamland is more agriculture focused + maybe some livestock and furs

…yeah i’m saying these places reflect their rulers basically. ripple star can be a little more traditional and whatnot. that’s what makes ripple so endeared to her dreamland friends—they’re silly! and yeah, tragic princess angle, it’s my favorite trope—i think that would really pull at her heart

i won’t get into that right now, but i gotta imagine getting possessed gives you a lot to think about lol

…gah i have so many thoughts on this

there isn’t much to go off of in canon, sure, but i think there’s a lot of interesting directions something like that could go ^^

[dantespilled]

reposting these two cuz i cant find my old post of them

[cold-neon-ocean]

Posting this by itself because :) I just feel like he should have gotten to wear the mech pilot suit at least once..

(my AU black version and the og green)

[sysig]

When you weren’t looking (Patreon)

[enthusiastic-nimrod]

Kinda wanna draw some magical girl art for a series that deserves some TLC...

We've got a winner!

Check out tomorrow to see the full piece

[grimmweepers]

so many things i want to do when i get back to aus. thinking about it makes me want to bounce off walls bc like what do i even start first

[real-life-cloud]

im GOING to write today ........ i WILL !!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!

[arolesbianism]

It’s ok, we always work things out in the end (lying)

[im-smart-i-swear]

Well that's an awkward family reunion if ive ever seen one

uh anyway this is like a month old and im not 100% satisfied w/ how it turned out but i dont think i'm going to try and fix it up any time soon so yeah. that's all youre gonna get ig

[slimeciclecock]

qjaiden death got me so fucked up I have about 30 posts worth of queue about her