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featherandferns · 11 days ago

Text

colour in the lines (fic)

jj maybank x fem!reader | enemies-to-lovers, tutor!reader concept set around season 1 era (no gold hunt) | not yet proofread so apologies!

content warning: dr*g use (weed, drinking); references to s3x; unique family dynamics

word count: 20k. (she's a slow-burner, but it's worth it)

blurb: When Mr Sunn hires you as JJ Maybank's tutor for the summer break, neither of you have high hopes for success. But as the lessons stretch on, maybe JJ isn't as much of an asshole as you thought, and maybe you aren't as much of a brown nose as he assumed.

The Arrangement

“You ain’t serious.”

“As the plague,” Mr Sunn nods.

JJ groans and tosses his head back. He’s lounging in the wooden chair as if it’s a comfortable Lay-Z-Boy. “Mr Sunn, can we just admit to each other right here and now that me getting a diploma ain’t ever gonna happen?”

Mr Sunn’s eyebrow quirks. He clasps his hands together atop of his desk. “You might be willing to give up on your education but I’m not. And until the day comes around that I am, you’re going to have tutoring.”

JJ stares begrudgingly at Mr Sunn like a sulking child. Tutoring? Come on, man. It felt as laughable and as useless as gifting a paralysed person a treadmill.

“When’s this tutoring gonna be?” JJ reluctantly asks.

“Every week on a Wednesday.”

“In September?”

“Starting next week.”

“Next week?” JJ gapes. Mr Sunn nods. “Mr Sunn, next week is the start of summer vacation. I ain’t gonna be educating myself during summer vacation. I think that’s actually against one of the human rights or something.”

“It isn’t. Maybe you’d know that if you actually attended class,” Mr Sunn remarks, almost smug. JJ rolls his eyes and mutters under his breath.

“Summer vacation?”

“If you stop your moaning and bitching, you’d hear more about the conditions of it.”

“Oh, goody. Please do tell.”

There’s a warning in the look Mr Sunn shoots JJ that has him rolling his eyes again. Glancing off out the window, he sighs. The football field is devoid of life save for the birds pecking at the grass. There’s no bustling in the halls, no students in the classrooms. JJ was the lingering student on Friday after school, subject to the conversation with Mr Sunn per request at the end of class. It had been almost thirty minutes; the start of the discussion had been a delightful monologue delivered about JJ’s failing grades and concerning marks. That had followed into this downright hideous discussion of tutoring.

“I’ve assigned a student who’s more than happy to give you tutoring. Like I said before, every Wednesday at one in the afternoon - unless exceptional circumstances occur.”

“Like me not wanting to get outta bed?”

“Like being in the hospital for a traumatic brain injury,” Mr Sunn corrects with a levelled look. JJ scoffs. Close enough, in his head. “She’ll tell me if you’ve attended the session, and if you stayed for the full time allocated–”

“--Wait, she? Who the hell–” Another pointed look that has JJ clearing his throat. “Who the heck is this tutor?”

Mr Sunn glances down at the papers laid out in front of him (many of which are evidence of JJ’s poor grades). “A Miss L/N.”

JJ’s brows furrow as he flicks through his mental rolodex of classmates at his school. The last name rattles around his brain until he finally finds a picture. His face falls. “Y/N?”

Mr Sunn nods. “She’s a stellar student.”

“She’s a brown-nosing bore.”

“Don’t think comments like that are very necessary, Maybank,” Mr Sunn warns. JJ doesn’t much care.

JJ used to be in the same class as you last year but you had been in the background of JJ’s life since kindergarten. Kildare was a small county. Nearly every classmate traced back to the beginning of childhood. New students were rare and most seemingly went to Kook academy. He hadn’t interacted with you much, if at all, but he could place you pretty well. You always abided by the dress code; always attended class; always handed in your homework on time; always stuck up your hand in class; always got the answers right; and always aced the exams. You were on some of the nerd teams at school - chess and mathletes - and JJ was certain he’d seen you in the marching band at a football game he was dragged to a few years back. A textbook goody-two-shoe know-it-all: that’s what you were. The only defining story that JJ had of you was from Pope, who held a half-joking, half-serious grudge against you following a loss at a spelling bee in middle school. You’d won and JJ wondered if it was Pope’s villain origin story. The word ‘chromotosis’ was still a tender spot (and one JJ liked to poke from time to time).

JJ laughs humourlessly, becoming increasingly annoyed with the situation. “Mr Sunn, you can’t be serious! I’d rather have you just tutor me instead!”

“Well, I’m going to enjoy my summer vacation after spending the year teaching your classmates.”

JJ doesn’t let the omission of ‘you’ from his sentence bother him too much. It was valid. JJ was a failing student. He attended school fleetingly. Homework was nothing more than a theoretical concept in his world and tests were his mortal enemy. The letter ‘F’ had become a best friend, with ‘D’ and ‘C’ close companions. Learning didn’t come easy to him, not in the way it did for John B and Kiara, and especially not in the way it was for Pope. Everything took him longer. Reading, writing, equations, retaining information. It didn’t help that most of it didn’t interest him, either. Besides, JJ found it hard to sit still for long in the classroom. He got fidgety and restless. The outside world called to him through the window: the song of the waves, the tweeting in the trees. JJ was good with practical things like handiwork and mechanics. That was the profession he’d venture into more than likely, so what was the point in breaking his back over a pointless high school degree?

Sighing, JJ rakes his fingers through his unruly hair. “Look, Mr Sunn, I’m gonna level with ya. I don’t think there’s much point in me getting a degree. I don’t give a crap about history or English or maths or any of that bullshit. And I don’t need it, a’right? I mean, you gotta know that, surely?” Before Mr Sunn can answer, JJ’s leaning in and digging through the papers. He retrieves one of his report cards and points at Mechanics. “Look! See! I’m pretty decent at stuff like that! Why can’t I just drop the rest and focus on that and be done with it?”

Mr Sunn sighs and smiles sympathetically at JJ. He takes the report card back and talks as he straightens out the papers. “I wish I could do that for you, JJ, but the state requires you to take all the core classes to graduate with a diploma. It might not mean much to you now, but trust me when I say that you’ll open so many more doors in your life if you apply yourself and finish school.”

There’s an unfamiliar sincerity in Mr Sunn’s words when he tells JJ, “You might not think you can do it, but I know you can. With some extra help, you can graduate, JJ.”

JJ holds Mr Sunn’s gaze for a long moment. Swallowing, JJ is disbelieving of the next words that leave his mouth in a resigned sigh. “Fine. I’ll do it.”

The First Lesson

Your pencil taps rhythmically on the table as you glance at the clock on the wall for the eleventh time. Ten minutes late. Sighing, annoyed, you pick up your phone and text your best friend, Esme.

Huffing out another breath, you return the phone to the table and busy yourself with reviewing the resources you’d brought.

When Mr Sunn offered you the summer part-time job of tutoring, you thought - frankly -that it would be a piece of piss. Give some lessons to some snotty little stressed out middle schooler and earn fifteen bucks every Wednesday? Where do I sign? But that fantasy was soon broken. Instead of an innocent child struggling with algebra homework, it was JJ Maybank. JJ’s reputation preceded him like Jay Gatsby. He was a prolific class skipper. When he did attend, it was usually to disturb the lesson with childish jokes until he wound up in the principal’s office and, most likely, detention. He spent quizzes blowing raspberries, tapping his pencil and gazing out the window. Teachers stopped bothering to ask him if he finished his homework. Outside of that, you knew him to be a womanizer, a petty thief, and an adrenaline junky. The only notable interaction you had with JJ had left a bad taste in your mouth. You tried to forget about it, pushing it into the back of your mind, but the name always brought back the memory of that one day in class. That one passing remark that changed your opinion of JJ in a split-second. Following all of that, fifteen dollars - whilst still enough to have you agree to tutoring - did not feel like an even trade for dulling your brain cells for one hour in his company.

Good news was that he wasn’t going to show, it seemed. Silver linings. Bad news? No JJ - no payout.

As your eyes glance over the textbook photocopy to ensure it didn’t cut any information off, the door to Mr Sunn’s classroom swings open. You startle and look up, half expecting to see the security guard asking you what the hell you’re doing here. Instead, your eyes land on JJ Maybank. He’s talking as he walks over to the table you’ve claimed.

“You would not believe how good the weather is out there today, holy shit,” he rambles as he pulls out the chair opposite you. “It’s fucking golden, Goddamn.”

You’re unsure what to say. Instead, you watch as JJ sighs and relaxes in his seat. One of his arms is tossed over the back of it; his legs manspread comfortably. Hair pressed under a beige cap, scruffy on the lip, his t-shirt and shorts are appropriate for the scorching weather outside. His combat boots that you’d noted when he walked over, not so much.

Seemingly at your silence, he quirks a brow. “So? We gonna get started, or?”

“You’re late,” you say, annoyed at his urgency. “Ten minutes late. Actually-” A quick glance at the clock. “-eleven minutes late.”

JJ shrugs. “I was hungry. Had to stop by in-n-out.”

“You went to in-n-out?”

His brows raise. “Did you want something from there? Didn’t peg you much as the, uh…fast food type.”

You’re not sure what he means by that but you imagine something unfriendly. Rolling your eyes, you level him with a glare. “You were eleven minutes late to our lesson because you stopped at an in-n-out?”

“Yep. So, what we starting with?” Before you can even formulate your next sentence, JJ’s interrupting you. “Actually, can I just– D’you mind if we wrap this up early today? Maybe do a half-session or something?”

“A half session?”

“Mhn,” he nods. JJ grins as he says, “the swells today at the beach are insane. It’s perfect surf weather. I gotta get a piece.”

Anger bubbles in your throat. Exhaling sharply through your nose, you grit your teeth. “Well, since you were eleven minutes late to the start of the lesson, we gotta make up for lost time. ‘Sides, Mr Sunn said that you had to attend the whole hour.”

“Yeah, but, like…He ain’t here, is he? So…” JJ leans forward on the table, closing down the space between the two of you. His biceps push against the sleeves of his short sleeve top when he rocks his weight forward and you’re quick to avert your eyes back to his face. There’s a boyish charm shining through his smirk. His eyes are half hooded as he scans your face and figure. You shift and square your shoulders, sitting back in your seat, trying to reclaim the gap. “What’d you say you do me a solid and tell a little white lie ‘bout it, huh? No harm in that, right?”

Oh. You see what’s happening. JJ thinks you’re just another one of the girls bewitched by his beauty. That all he has to do is bat his pretty eyes and flash you that gorgeous smile and you’ll fall at his feet and do as he asks.

You try to bite back your smirk as best as possible when you lean forward. You leave the smallest gap between you, forearms almost touching, and you get a thrill at the flash of surprise in his eyes.

“Listen, blue eyes. I get paid for the hour and, unlucky for you, I don’t enjoy lying to people. So here’s what gonna happen. We’re going to sit here and do the full one-hour session, making sure we don’t lose those lovely eleven minutes. Sound good?”

JJ’s smile falls quickly. He grits his teeth and clenches his jaw. You sweeten the deal with an overly sugary smile before returning to how you were sat before.

“We’re starting with biology.”

JJ slowly unfurls himself to retain into his seat. You dig out one of the worksheets and slide it across the table to him.

“What’d you remember from this semester?”

JJ sighs as if he’s bored and slowly raises his hands to count on his fingers. He takes his time as he recounts, in a dull tone of voice, “monkeys masturbate and…that’s about it.”

Rolling your eyes, irritated, you look down at your twinning worksheet. You push your glasses up the bridge of your nose when they slip down. “Right, okay, starting from square one then. If you look at the first paragraph, give it a quick read and then I’m gonna ask you some questions about it, ‘kay?”

JJ doesn’t say anything but grunts. It’s hard to restrain from rolling your eyes a third time. When a substantial amount of time has passed, you glance to see if he’s still reading. JJ sits, head rocked back, arms folded across his chest, eyes closed. You see red.

“Done reading?” you manage out. He doesn’t open his eyes when he hums ‘yes’. “Okay then…” You look down at the questions you’d prepared and take a sigh before reading out the first one. “The powerhouse of the cell is called the…”

JJ doesn’t say anything. Clearing your throat to prompt him, he cracks open an eye, observes you leisurely, and then closes it again. “Heart.”

“The Mitochondria.”

“Right, yeah, that’s what I meant. Same thing.”

Your teeth grate against each other. Another cooling breath and you read the second, third, fourth questions. Each answer given by JJ raises your blood pressure by another degree. This is going to be a fucking pain in your ass. At the forty minute mark, you’re repeating the mantra ‘think of the money, think of the money, think of the money’ like a religious prayer in your mind. JJ has managed to make an almost impressive amount of crude jokes about cell anatomy, gave some brain-cell killing answers to pretty basic biology questions, and yawned enough times to have a doctor concerned for his well being. You’re relieved when your eyes find the clock reads that an hour has passed.

“Right, well. That’s everything for today.”

“Oh, damn. I was just getting into it, too,” JJ sardonically says. You glare at him. He stands and stretches, his shirt riding up as he extends his arms above his head. He fixes his cap as he asks, “same time next week, then?”

“One in the afternoon.”

“Can’t wait,” he mutters. He wanders to the door, giving a fleeting ‘see ya’ as he slips out the classroom. You’re amazed the door doesn’t burst into flames with the heat of your stare.

The First Complaint

The sun bathes JJ in blisteringly warm rays of daylight. He revels in it like a gecko in the desert. Arms tucked underneath his head, he lounges on the front of the boat. Sunglasses sit on his face, eyes closed behind them, and a toothpick sticks out from his lips. The water laps at the boat, rocking it gently from side to side. An old-school R&B song hums out the speaker near the cooler.

“I’m telling y’all, the fishing out there is crazy. Worth the trip, for sure,” John B tells the Pogues. He’s probably where JJ last saw him; stood by the end of the boat, shirtless in his swim shorts like Pope and JJ, fishing.

“I’m down. Could go next week,” Kiara says. She’s probably scrolling on her ipod to cue the next song.

“My dad’s got me working shifts but I can do Wednesday,” Pope adds, likely reading.

JJ blows a raspberry. “Wednesday is a no-go.”

“Why not?”

“I got class.”

He can hear the shared confusion in the silence. He props himself up on an elbow, jutting his sunglasses down the bridge of his nose enough to scan over his friends. They’re all exactly where he pictured them, staring at him blankly.

“Class?” Pope finally asks.

“Yeah. I’ve got tutoring.”

John B barks out a laugh and Kiara rolls her eyes, looking back to her ipod. “Yeah right,” she mutters.

“Dude, I’m so serious right now,” JJ loudly defends, throwing his arm out.

“The day you get tutoring is the day hell freezes over,” Pope declares.

JJ shrugs. “Alright, then it’s frozen, cause I am.”

“How’d they get you to go? Gag and bind you?” John B sniggers, making the others laugh.

“Hilarious. Thank you for caring about my education, assholes,” JJ grumbles. He isn’t actually offended. It tracks that the Pogues think he’s bullshitting. It isn’t as if JJ has valued books and pop quizzes at any stage in his life. Returning to his previous position, he grins as he says, “you’re not gonna guess who’s my tutor.”

“Mr Sunn?”

“Nope. He did allocate her, though.”

“Least we know it’s a she,” Kiara says. “Helps with the guessing.”

“Well, go on. Guess.”

“Just tell us,” Pope sighs, in no mood for games. JJ’s grin grows.

“Your mortal enemy.”

John B and Kiara let out a gasp and snigger. JJ glances through his sunglasses to make out Pope’s face. In his disbelief, JJ nods. “Yep.”

“She still as brainy as she was then?”

“More,” JJ mutters. His memory flicks back to yesterday; the way your glasses slipped down your nose just slightly when you leant forward on the table. The shimmering of your eyes as they glared at him. The sneer on your lips. You clearly think rather highly of yourself. It had been pretty entertaining seeing how far he could push. He’s impressed that you didn’t lunge at him before the session was up; he was certain you’d come pretty close several times. Sighing, JJ sits back up on his arms and looks to his friends. “We’re going to that kegger tonight, right?”

“We could,” John B shrugs. “Not doing much else.”

“It’s Touron season,” JJ grins boyishly, making Kie roll her eyes.

“You guys are gross.”

“Come on! Just trying to get little Pope’s dick wet for a change,” JJ lies, getting up and smacking a hand reassuringly on Pope’s shoulder. He’s shrugged off, making him snigger.

“My dick is perfectly fine as it is, thank you,” Pope mutters, looking back down at his book. Rolling his eyes, JJ retrieves a beer from the cooler.

“Whatever man. Lemme know when you want to learn how to get girls.”

“Yeah. JJ’s a scholar now, afterall,” John B jokes. At the heckling laughter of his friends, JJ rolls his eyes mirthfully and goes back to enjoying his summer break.

The Second Lesson

You’re not sure why you’re surprised that JJ is late yet again to his lesson. This time you’ve found better ways to entertain yourself than clock watching. Sending memes back and forth with Esme and doomscrolling Instagram was working well to keep you from counting the minutes wasted in the empty classroom. You can hear people outside, playing in the fields, chattering on the streets as they walk to and from their summer day plans. There’s an itch under your skin to leave and make the most of the beautiful weather. It feels a shame to spend your time cooped up in a dusty classroom, making anagrams out of the history posters lining the walls. But the posters make you think of Mr Sunn, reminding you of the promise you’d made to him before the vacation started.

“You’ll be paid for the tutoring and your trouble. But I’m trusting you to be honest. I don’t want to be paying out for an hour spent on Call of Duty or whatever it is you do in your spare time.”

“Definitely not Call of Duty.”

“Either way: if Maybank doesn’t show, then I need you to be honest with me. I’m trusting you.”

“I promise, Mr Sunn. You can put your faith in me.”

Your phone begins to ring. Picking up, you don’t have the chance to say ‘hi’ before Esme is talking.

“What a fucking loser.”

“I mean, he has my number. He could at least message to say he’s running late,” you complain.

“He could at least bother showing up on time,” Esme corrects, making you laugh. “He’s probably not even doing anything anyway.”

“I honestly don’t give a shit what he’s doing. Just wish I had a heads-up if he’s not going to show so I can actually do something with my day,” you sigh, rubbing at your forehead. “Mom’s got another night shift tonight and I hate leaving Leo alone all day.”

“I thought he was going to that summer day-camp thingy? The scholarship deal didn’t get cancelled, did it?” Esme worries.

“He’s not going anymore. Not because of the scholarship - that’s still fine. Just…” Your voice trails off, heart tugging at the memory of his crestfallen face, muddled with confusion when you had to tell him he wasn’t going to be going back.

“The usual stuff?” Esme guesses. She’d known you for almost six years now; she knew Leo for just as long. She shared that same protectiveness for him.

“Yep.”

“Kids are shitheads.”

You bark out a laugh. “You can’t say that about children, Esme.”

The two of you laugh quietly. You sigh and fiddle with the corner of one of the worksheets. Just as you’re about to tell her that you’ll leave in the next five minutes, the door pushes open. “I gotta go, Esme.”

“Wait - did he actually show up?”

“Yep.”

“Holy shit, someone call the media,” she mutters. You give a sheltered laugh, eyes scanning over a sunglass-donning JJ. “Alright, message me after. Love ya.”

“Talk soon,” you hum before the line clicks off. Placing your phone down on the table, you watch as JJ shuffles into the room lethargically. He’s dressed similarly to last week: combat boots, shorts, t-shirt. The cap this week is red, equally as well-worn as the beige. The sunglasses are new though. “You seem lively.”

“Not so loud, please,” JJ groans, bringing a hand up to his forehead as if nursing a headache. He collapses into the chair opposite you with a grunt. A silence lingers between the two of you. JJ is so still you half question if he’s passed out. Eventually, he shifts enough to tug his sunglasses down, revealing a slither of his eyeline. He’s looking at you.

“You gonna start with the lesson, then?”

“You gonna stay awake for it?” you ask in return. He pushes the sunglasses back up.

“No promises.”

“You’re hungover,” you observe. JJ makes a ding-ding-ding noise under breath. The momentary peacefulness that came from your quick phone call with Esme is soon dissipating. “You’re hungover despite knowing that we had tutoring today?”

“I don’t know what ‘despite’ means, a’right? Can we make a ban on big words when my brain feels like it’s gonna explode?”

“Might need you to define big words. Have a feeling most words qualify as that with you,” you mutter. JJ scoffs.

“Get off your high horse, brown noser. Just cause you’ve read a few books don’t mean you know everything.”

“As opposed to you?” you quip back.

JJ snuggles in his seat, folding his arms over his chest in an echo of his posture last week. “Just start with the schooling, huh? Thought you needed to report back to Daddy Sunn that you’ve done your duties.”

Your nose turns up at the nickname. Not bothering to argue, you dig through the worksheets and hesitate in passing one across the table to him. Your eyes scan over his figure. His carelessness in his appearance; his indifference to this generous opportunity he’s been given; his dismissiveness of your valuable donation of time. It irritates you. A lot.

“You don’t realise how fortunate you are, do you?” you snap.

JJ visibly stuns at your tone. He doesn’t hurry his movements as he sits straighter in his seat, turning to face you, sliding his sunglasses off his face. His eyebrows rise, bloodshot eyes zeroing in on you. “What was that, brown nose?”

“You have no idea how fortunate you are to be here right now,” you repeat, holding your ground. You clear your throat and correct your glasses on your nose. “Mr Sunn put a lot of effort into organising these sessions. Letting us have access to the building out of hours. Access to all these resources. He put a lot of faith into you. He genuinely believed that you’d give enough of a crap to at least try tutoring. But instead you stroll in her like the sun shines out of your ass and you’re God’s gift to earth and waste everybody’s time.”

JJ watches you after your outburst. His eyes flit over your face, taking in every inch of your disgruntled expression, and his lips twitch downwardly. Leaning forward on the table, he raises a finger to point in your face.

“You don’t know shit about my fortune,” he remarks darkly, in a tone that you’ve never once heard from him. He’s unrecognisable as he warns you, “you stay in your lane and I’ll stay in mine, a’right? I ain’t needing you preaching on your soapbox about how good I got shit when you ain’t know anything about anything. So either get on with teaching, or I’ll get on up and out that door.”

It’s unnerving, JJ’s demeanour and tone. It’s unnerving but it isn’t enough to make you back down. Narrowing your eyes, you sit proud and tall, hands clasped politely atop of the table.

“Be my guest. The door is behind you, in case you’re too drunk to find it.”

JJ’s chair pushes back from the force he gets up with. He mutters under breath curses and cusses as he makes his way to the door. Your voice is polite and cheery as you call, “One o’clock next Wednesday.”

The door slams closed. Another successful tutoring session. Another migraine to go home with.

The First Check-In

“JJ! Answer your damn phone!” John B hollers from the bathroom.

JJ jogs through the Chateau in search of the cell. It’s the third call he’s missed. It isn’t on purpose: he can’t find where he put the damn thing. It’s as if it’s fallen into a pocket of the universe that ceases to exist. Digging through the couch cushions of the pull-out, JJ’s fingers finally make contact with the buzzing device.

“Aha!” he cheers, pulling out. He swipes to answer, tumbling back on the sofa-bed. It must have fallen down there when he was fooling around with some Touron he met at the kegger last night. “Yo.”

“Maybank.”

JJ’s eyes press shut and his mood significantly drops. “Sup, Mr Sunn.”

“Not much, not much. Just calling to check in on how the tutoring is going?”

“How’s it going?”

Terrible. It’s awful. JJ has never known a bigger waste of time. He’s learnt a total of zero things from the hour and ten minutes spent in your company, apart from the fact that you’re the most aggravating girl he has ever met. You might be the first female that JJ hasn’t enjoyed spending time with. Rather impressive, actually.

“Yeah, yeah, it’s great,” JJ lies easily. He rubs at the sleep in his eyes as he continues, “learning a ton, feeling really smart. Gaining all that knowledge, y’know?”

“Really?”

“Yup.”

“That’s interesting. Cause your tutor couldn’t agree less.”

JJ grits his teeth. Of course, you’re a rat as well as a shrew. You just seem to cover all areas of dislike in JJ’s books, it’s as if you’ve read all of JJ’s least favourite things.

“Oh really? What’d she say?”

“That you’re not engaging with the work. The last session was cut short too, apparently,” Mr Sunn recalls, disapproval dripping from every word.

“Yeah, well, you see, there was those exceptional circumstances you were talking about for that one, Mr S,” JJ half-arsedly defends.

“Really? A traumatic brain injury?” Mr Sunn checks, unconvinced.

“Yeah, yeah. A really brutal one, too,” JJ says, wincing at the memory of the banging headache he was awarded for going a bit too hard at the kegger the night before.

Mr Sunn’s sigh cuts deep. It’s parental. That sentiment of ‘I’m not angry, just disappointed’ is translated through the exhale, and JJ hates how much of an effect it has on him. JJ liked Mr Sunn: all of the Pogues did. He was a good teacher and cool guy. As annoying as your preaching was, JJ was reluctant to admit there was some truth to some of the things you said. Mr Sunn did believe in JJ. God knows why or what for, but he had put all of this together to purely benefit the blonde haired boy. Maybe you were somewhat right in him taking that for granted. Maybe.

“Look, JJ, if you’re not gonna take this seriously then we might as well call it off now,” Mr Sunn hedges.

“No, no, wait, look, Mr Sunn…I’m gonna level with you…” JJ takes a sigh and braces himself. “I haven’t been taking it seriously but I will now. I’ll start, y’know…Trying. Like, actually trying.”

“Yeah?”

“Yeah,” JJ reassures. “Just gimme one more chance, yeah?”

Mr Sunn hesitates before sighing once more. “Alright. Fine. One more chance.”

“Thanks, Mr S,” JJ says. He’s surprised with himself for willingly signing on for more of your boring-ass lessons, but something in his gut tells him this is the right call. “I won’t let you down.”

“Alright, Maybank. You got one more chance. Wednesday, one o’clock. Don’t be late.”

“I won’t be,” JJ promises. As the phone call ends, JJ makes a secret deal with himself to give the tutoring a real chance. To give himself a real chance.

The Third Lesson

The feeling of your heart pounding in your throat is uncomfortable, to say the least. There’s a thin sheen of sweat on your forehead as you race around the house. In your head, you’re mentally juggling a million and one thoughts. Need to do this, need to do that. The checklist spans over several thoughts and derails every line of logic. It doesn’t help that it feels like Satan's asshole in the house right now. It is so hot. You think you might have seen something on Instagram claiming it was the hottest day of the year. Your family home is noisy with the sound of life: the washing machine and dryer are both on, rattling loudly in the utility room; the blender is going for your mom’s protein shake; the television and radio are both on and Leo refuses to turn either off. Overstimulating children’s cartoons bellow out into the stuffy living room.

You’re standing in the bedroom, packing your bag frantically with school supplies for the tutoring session that’s near approaching. A holler of your name from downstairs has you groaning. At first, you try to ignore it, but it only gets louder and louder, until Leo is practically screeching for you. Your mom starts to call for you, too, beckoning you to go to him from her bedroom. With a frustrated huff, you ditch your mess of belongings on your bed and rush out of your room.

“I’m going, mom!” you loudly tell her as you hurry down the stairs.

Leo is sitting on the living room floor, a broken mechanical car in his hand. He holds it up to you, pouting, as he demands, “fix it, sissy! Fix it!”

“Leo, I really don’t have time to fix it,” you sigh tiredly, leaning down to take it from him. You inspect the damage and shake your head, “can’t you play with something else until I get home?”

“Fix it! Sissy! Fix it!” Leo continues to command. His eyes well with tears and his lip begins to tremble, and you know the signs of one of his episodes well. Overwhelmed, you sit down on the sofa and try your best to remedy the toy. It’s useless. It requires some sort of tool to get everything back together and functioning. Leo comes over and tugs on your t-shirt as you work, murmuring ‘sissy, fix it. Fix it, sissy,’

“I’m trying, Leo. Sissy is trying,” you mumble. You feel your own lip tremble and tears starting to form, and you internally curse yourself and will them away. You never cry in front of Leo. It’s your duty to keep him protected; to shelter him from the stresses that come along with your life. It isn’t his fault that things are different with him. But the more you try and fix the toy, and the louder the washing machine and dryer and blender become, and the hotter the room gets, and the more insistent Leo’s tugging and pulling becomes, the harder it is to hold back your brimming emotions.

Leo begins to cry and you curse under breath. You place the toy on the coffee table and get down on your knees.

“Leo, honey. Don’t cry. I will fix it, okay? Sissy will fix it. I just need a bit more time, m’kay?”

“Fix it, fix it, fix it,” he wails. His small hands ball into fists and he pummels the sides of his head, and your heart lurches. Your hands scramble to gently cup his own, ceasing the action as much as possible.

“Don’t do that, baby. Please don’t do that.”

“Fix it, sissy,” he sobs.

“I will, I will,” you promise. Anything, you think. I’d do anything for you. You’re relieved when he lets you pull him into an embrace. You let him cry and smack his hands against your back. Emotions are big in his tiny body. They overwhelm him. It isn’t his fault. You press a kiss to his cheek, hoping you can somehow communicate that thought to him. When he’s settled, you give him one more squeeze before pulling away. Taking the toy from the coffee table, you tell him, “I’ll have it fixed by the time I get back home, m’kay?”

“Sissy fix it later,” Leo sniffles, nodding. Your smile is brimming and bright as you nod encouragingly.

“Yes, yes. Sissy fix it later,” you reassure. Your eyes dart to the grandfather clock that stands in the hallway. Shit. “I really need to go, Leo. You need anything, you tell mom, yeah? Wake her up only if you need to, though.”

Leo nods.

You jog through the house, scrambling up the stairs. The toy is shoved into your tote bag alongside the rest of the supplies, and then you’re racing down the stairs. The blender is finally finished; pouring it into a glass, you’re hurrying back to your mom’s room and leaving it on her bedside table. She’d finished a 32 hour shift at the hospital about two hours ago. Asleep, buried in the bedsheets, you lean down and press a kiss to her forehead.

“See ya later, mom. Love ya,” you mumble softly. Closing the door gently behind you, you return downstairs to find Leo peacefully playing with a stuffed animal. Thank God. As you unlock the front door, you relay your usual farewell: “there’s carrot sticks and bell pepper sticks in the tub on the coffee table. Wake mom if it’s an emergency. Don’t touch the fireplace. Sissy will be back soon!”

Leo’s farewell is cut short by the closing front door. The pulsing heat slows you down as you speed walk to the high school. Children playing soccer and couples sharing picnics and surfer bros and girls loading up cars and vans and trucks blur into pictures of fantasies that you wish you could indulge in as you make your way down the streets. Finally, finally, you arrive at the high school. The air con is as relieving as heroin as you rush down the isolated corridors. JJ’s head whips to the opening door when you make it to the classroom.

“Wow. You did show up.”

Your eyes squeeze shut with suppressed emotion as you bee-line to your chair. JJ doesn’t lose the opportunity to lecture, though. You suppose you have it coming from how much grief you’ve given him from being tardy.

“I mean, you’d think that you’d at least practice what you preach. After all the shit you gave me for being late and you’re nearly twenty minutes over. Even I’m not that bad,” JJ goads. “Could at least take it seriously, y’know? Ain’t Mr Sunn putting all his hopes and dreams on you or some shit?”

Your hands freeze in your tote bag, midway through unpacking yourself. Tears rush to your eyes and you panic, pressing them shut, begging for them to go away. Crying in front of somebody was one thing. Crying in front of JJ Maybank was another. Your teeth sink into your lower lip to keep it still. The tightness in your throat keeps growing, with that horrible lump and scratchy dryness. Come on, get it together.

“Hello?” JJ asks impatiently. “You gonna do something or…?”

That’s the breaking point.

The tears fall in fat, ugly drops as a shaky sob rattles out of you. And then it’s as if the floodgates have opened. You can only imagine the horrified look on JJ’s face as you sit and cry in an empty history classroom. You cry, and cry, and cry. When you’re not crying, you’re gasping for air, sniffing back the snot, wiping aggressively at your nose and your eyes and your cheeks. Every attempt to slow the sorrow seems to bring about a new wave of waterworks. Until, finally, it seems to ease up.

“God, I’m sorry, I’m sorry,” you mutter, taking off your glasses and wiping furiously at your face. It’s red hot, mostly from embarrassment, and you blink up at the ceiling. “Shit, sorry. I don’t know why…Sorry.”

When you brave a look at JJ, you’re surprised to see no look of horror or humour. Instead, he’s frowning. He looks sympathetic, even. You can’t bare that expression. It feels as though people have looked at you like that for most of your life. Wiping at your wet cheeks, you take in a deep breath. With a violent sniffle, you return your glasses to your face, damp fingers trembling as they flick through the papers.

“Where, uh…Where should we start?”

JJ mumbles your name.

“Maybe Biology?”

He repeats it, slightly louder. You can’t stomach looking at him.

“Or History?”

It’s with a stern voice, JJ has your attention. He holds your gaze unapologetically. Then, he’s glancing down at the papers in your hands, out the window to the spotless summer, and back at you. He nods, a decision apparently made, and gets to his feet.

“A’right, come on,” he says. You blink at him.

“Huh?”

“Come on, get up. We’re getting outta here.”

“What are you…JJ, no, you have a lesson. I need to teach you about…”

“Teach me it in the car,” JJ tells you, not waiting for you to finish your thought. He’s walking around the table into new territory. His extended hand is like an olive branch. You eye it as if it might be laced with arsenic. But when you look up at his face, the smile on his face is new. It’s friendly. Reassuring, even. Your still quivering hand out stretches to land in his. His palm is warm and slightly clammy. He helps you up from your seat. You shrug your tote bag up your shoulder and JJ releases your hand to gather up your papers. Holding them out, you return them to your bag, and then you’re blindly following JJ out of the classroom and down the corridors.

His black shorts look like swim shorts. They end around the mid-thigh. His shirt is sticking to his back with a thin veil of sweat. It’s sweltering in Kildare County. You’re surprised by how attractive you find it. In your frantic fragility, you hadn’t realised JJ wasn’t wearing a cap. Instead, his blonde hair sat atop of his head, longer strands hanging slightly over his forehead. You think that’s the first time that you let yourself admit how attractive JJ Maybank is.

“Where are we going?” you ask, picking up the pace to walk beside him.

“The beach.”

“Why?”

“Because,” JJ says, pushing open the door and holding it for you to step through, “it is officially the hottest day of summer,” the two of you make your way down the stairs, “you just had some weird, psycho freak-out,” you follow JJ to a brown, banged-up campervan, “and nature is the best healer.”

You can’t argue with much of anything he’s said, so you don’t. Instead, you walk around to the passenger side and climb into the van. It smells of seasalt, men’s cologne and remnants of cannabis. There’s empty beer cans at your feet that you kick out of the way. Crumpled up in-n-out paper stuffed into the wings of the door. JJ sighs as he drops into the driver’s seat. You watch as he brushes his hair from his face, fingers running easily through the locks. He turns the key in the ignition and his silver rings glint in the sunlight. The van rumbles to life, vibrating the seat, and JJ puts it in gear.

“Wind down the window, would ya?” he asks, meeting your gaze. You nod and do as he asks. JJ does the same on his side, and then he’s putting the van into reverse, and soon enough you’re on an impromptu road trip with JJ Maybank.

It’s difficult not to look at him. He’s so different from the guy you’ve been trying to tutor for the past two weeks. He’s also different from the image you’d built in your head of him. Some suave, ladykiller. Cruel, phony, dismissive. In the bright glow of sunlight, he’s rather gorgeous. His arm is propped on the window ledge. The wind brushes at his hair. His fingers tap on the steering wheel rhythmically with the beat of whatever song is playing from the stereo. Scared to get caught staring, you turn and watch the view out the window. JJ was right: you needed this. It’s hard to find excuses to relax and have fun when your mom and Leo need you so badly at home. Any time spent just for you without any benefit behind it feels selfish. But this was like a ‘get out of jail free’ card. An excuse dressed up in combat boots and dreamy muscles.

There’s no conversation made as the two of you drive. It isn’t uncomfortable, though. It feels strangely natural, sitting side-by-side in shared silence. When the shoreline comes into view, you’re weirdly disappointed that the journey is over so soon. JJ parks and gets out with a ‘come on’ that has you following. You linger and look around as JJ digs about in the back of the van. He’s proud as punch when he emerges with two cans of seltzer and a towel (you don’t want to know the last time it was washed, if ever). The waves sound delicious in their susurrus against the sand as the two of you walk through the sand dunes. It was fairly busy: people surfing, others lounging with music playing from speakers, children playing volleyball. Girls lay on their fronts and backs, reading, tanning, relaxing. Guys bob their heads to the music and watch people dip in and out of the waves on their boards, nodding in approval. Seabirds call out afar and crickets chirp in the reeds. You feel like you’ve taken your first breath of fresh air in years.

“Here seems good, huh?” JJ says, slowing near a more secluded patch of beach. You nod. He lays out the towel horizontally, leaving space for you to both sit side by side. JJ smells like sunscreen and cologne and a touch of sweat. The crisp cracking of cans opens the conversation. “Cheers.”

Your can tinks against his. You have a sip. It’s tangy and refreshing as you swallow. Toeing off your trainers and socks, you sink your feet into the hot grains of sand. JJ copies. The two of you lean back and lounge.

“So,” JJ says. The two of you turn to look at one another. “You feeling okay?”

Laughing, you shake your head and have another sip of your drink. JJ grins. Looking out to the water, you sigh as you reply, “I was just overwhelmed. Sorry ‘bout the…y’know…”

“Snot?”

You laugh, facing him again. “Yeah. And the tears.”

“I was a little freaked out, I’m not gonna lie,” JJ tells you mirthfully, making you laugh more.

“Mhm. Same here.” The two of you sit in a jovial lull for a moment until you feel the need to clarify, “I promise that isn’t a usual occurrence.”

Laughing, JJ nods. “Yeah, well, did seem out of character. Used to you giving me hell for…Well, shit, for anything.”

“You make it pretty easy to do that, in my defense,” you grin. JJ cringes, rocking his head as if to say ‘is that true?’ “Mr Sunn said something ‘bout you wanting to take the tutoring more seriously?”

“Damn, news travels fast here,” JJ mutters, making you smile.

“For the record: you were right.”

“That’s rare.”

“I bet,” you snigger. JJ shoves your shoulder and you giggle. “But, you were. I didn’t have any right making any assumptions about your life. Your fortune, as you said.”

“Nah, don’t take it personally,” JJ says, dropping his head slightly. He swings his can between two fingers. “I’m a dick when I’m hungover.”

“You hungover all the time then or…?”

“Damn, mama! I’m tryn’a make amends here!”

The two of you share a laugh. It sinks away like footprints on sand. Nodding your head, you hold his gaze as you smile.

“Well, we could start fresh.”

“I’m down.”

“Hey - to new beginnings,” you announce, holding up your can. JJ smiles at you, nods, and clinks his can against yours. The two of you have a drink. A kid races across the beach in front of you, chasing a stray soccer ball. “Can’t remember the last time I came to the beach.”

“Really? I go all the time,” JJ replies.

“My parents used to take us on picnics here every Sunday,” you say, smiling to yourself. You watch the little boy return to his sister. She takes the ball from him and they continue their game. The smile changes. “We stopped going after my brother was born, though.”

“How come?”

You swallow. Remembering yourself, you blink out of your thoughts and flash JJ a smile. “Just new routines, I guess.”

Nodding, JJ digs about in his pocket as he talks, “me and my friends surf a lot so we’re at the beach most of the time, really. John B lives right near the marsh though so sometimes we just go out on the boat, y’know?”

You watch as he retrieves a small metal tin. He opens it to reveal a joint and lighter. Instinctively, your eyebrows raise slightly. His eyes flash to yours and he falters. “D’you mind?”

“No, no, uh…Go for it,” you say, gesturing lamely to his blunt. He doesn’t hesitate as he brings it to his lips, guarding the flame for the breeze with a cup of his hand. The smell is fruity and poignant when he takes a few starting drags. You watch the ash building on the end as if mesmerised by fire, like you’re some kind of cave person. Then you realise JJ’s offering it to you. “Oh, um…I’m good. Thanks, though.”

JJ takes another hit. “You smoke before?” You give him a look of ‘what do you think?’ JJ coughs out his vapour with a laugh. “You wanna try?”

“Um…” You hesitate, eyeing up the joint. “I don’t know. What’s it feel like?”

“Depends,” JJ replies. “Usually makes you feel relaxed. Less aware of yourself. Loosens up your shoulders, calms you down, that kind of thing. Can make you laugh too. Hungry. Talkative. Pope on weed - Jesus Christ - you should see him. It’s like he took speed or something. He won’t shut the hell up, for once.”

You smile, having a vague memory of Pope. You went head to head with him at a spelling bee back in Middle School. He always seemed like a nice guy. Intelligent, too; he definitely gave you a run for your money that day.

“Can you have a bad trip?” you wonder, curious. JJ shrugs.

“Sometimes. I’ve only had a couple. Mostly depends on what state of mind you’re in before you take it, or if it’s a bad batch. Smoking’s the best way to start, though. You stop smoking and it’s out of your system a faster than if you have an edible. With an edible, you’re in it for the ride, y’know?”

“Hm,” you hum in deliberation.

“It’s safe. I mean, it’s legal in a bunch of places now,” JJ reassures.

Snorting, you say, “that means nothing! Cigarettes are legal too, don’t stop them from giving you cancer.”

Rolling his eyes, amused, JJ replies, “can you just not overthink everything for one second? Look, I ain’t gonna pressure you into anything, but I think it could help. Especially if you’re feeling a bit overwhelmed, like you said.”

He doesn’t press it any further and you don’t ask more questions. The two of you sit for a couple minutes before you find yourself reaching out to take the joint. JJ’s happy to oblige. You bring it to your lips, heart beating nervously in your chest, and you hesitate. Looking at him, you ask, “how’d I do this, again?”

“Just bring it up and inhale,” he says, mimicking for you. “Try and hold it in for a bit and then exhale. Don’t freak if you cough. Most people do, first time.”

Murmuring an ‘okay’, you swallow your anxieties before following JJ’s instructions. The air gets caught in your lungs and throat and you splutter out a cough. JJ laughs lightly as you do and you flip him off, smiling despite your hacking. Once it’s passed, you take a few more drags, getting better with every attempt.

“Now what?” You ask, handing it back. “Should I feel something?”

Laughing, JJ leans back on his elbows. “Relax. You’ll start to feel it in a minute. Might need a few more hits.”

“Alright,” you say. You shadow his posture. A thought occurs that has you giggling. JJ quirks a brow, curious. “Sorry, sorry, it’s just…I’ve only ever had, like, one glass of wine at Christmas and Thanksgiving. Just a bit new.”

“Aw, man, don’t say that,” JJ groans, tossing his head back. “That makes it sound like I corrupted your ass or some shit.”

Sniggering, you can’t help but glance at him and tease, “maybe you did.”

The look JJ returns hits somewhere new inside of you.

Turning to your bag, you dig for your bottle of water. Leo’s toy car tumbles out onto the sand. “Shit,” you mutter, picking up and dusting off the grains.

“What’s that?” JJ asks.

You turn and show him the broken car. He takes it from you and studies it as you tell him, “it’s my little brother’s. He was asking me to fix it but I don’t even know where to start with that kind of thing. It’s meant to move, see?”

JJ nods, looking at the motor you point to. He turns it over in his hands, inspects some parts, before announcing, “I can fix this.”

“What?”

“Yeah, yeah, it’s pretty simple, really. Just need to fix this part here,” he points at somewhere on the car, “and then change out the batteries, glue a few things, and should be good as new.”

“For real?”

“Sure,” JJ shrugs. He smiles at you. His eyes are blue, decorated with green flecks. You smile back. A fuzzy feeling builds in your chest. Your eyes dart down to his lips. They probably taste like seltzer and cannabis. He probably tastes like seltzer and cannabis.

A scream has you both jumping, drawing your attention away from JJ. You look across the beach to find a kid screeching with laughter, screaming as their dad chases them through the wake of the water. You smile. In your peripheral, you see JJ smiling too. Maybe you had him wrong. Maybe the two of you can actually get along. Perhaps even be friends, of sorts.

As the rest of the day stretches on, you and JJ pass stories and tell jokes. You churn up hilarious theories and stories about fellow beach goers as you smoke your way through his joint. The weed takes effect after a few minutes of smoking, like promised, and you get the giggles over something JJ says. You like his laugh. It’s bright and youthful, yet still somehow raspy. He gets rather philosophical when he’s high. Starts spewing ideas about the universe and fate and plans. That opens up a path to talk about daydreams and castles in the air. Fantasies of lives with high grossing jobs and Kook-sized homes and vacations every month. As the hours pass by and the topics come and go, you find yourself free from thoughts of studying and cleaning and cooking and caring for others outside of yourself. You find yourself present and in the moment for maybe the first time ever. That to say, when JJ eventually drives you home, the sun finally beginning to set, your heart deflates with the thought that the day is almost over. That you’re going to have to get out of the car and say goodbye to him, even if it’s for a week.

The Sixth Lesson

JJ never thought that the day might come when he enjoys school. However, whenever Wednesday rolls around, this wave of energy washes over him, putting some pep in his steps like he’s in a Saturday special. Mr Sunn’s classroom had become this sanctuary; this garden of Eden that only you and JJ knew about. You had this way of explaining things that made it click for JJ. It was if you were a translator, taking complex terms and working them into analogies that fit into JJ’s head. You showed him tricks to keep notes which saved his paper from becoming a stressful, confusing mess of scribbles. You recognised his need for taking breaks, splitting up sessions with stories, taking the chance to show him memes that your friend Esme had sent you. There was a sweetness to you, underneath the bossy, business-like exterior JJ was first met with. And with that sweetness came JJ’s sudden realisation that you’re really fucking beautiful.

He’s not sure why he didn’t notice it at first. Maybe he did, but he didn’t want to acknowledge it. He was too busy cursing you for taking up his summer vacation. But now that’s noticed, he can’t unsee it. It’s like watching a movie and realising your favourite actor is in it; they take all the attention. And you took most of JJ’s, during your tutor sessions. He’d steal glances when he was reading through worksheets or filling pop quizzes. Snippets of your head bent forward, reading, your glasses slowly slipping down your nose until you push them back up. Glasses suited you. Framed your cherub face. Your laugh was melodic; tuneful like you were singing. But your lips might have been JJ’s favourite thing about you. You’d gnaw at them, chewing on them when you concentrated. You’d pamper them with lip gloss and balm, making them taste like strawberry or raspberry or cherry cola. A flavour JJ dreamt of licking off. On the downside, it made his already ADHD-ridden mind even harder to concentrate on the work.

“You done?”

“Hm?”

“You finished with the quiz?” you ask, nodding down to his papers. You’d caught him looking at you and assumed he was finished.

“Almost,” JJ says, glancing back at his answers to remind himself where he was. “Kinda stuck on this one though.”

“Which one?” you wonder, leaning across the table to have a look. JJ points at it and does his best to look at your face and not your cleavage as you read the question. But he has to steal a glance. Fuck. You smell fucking delectable. In a truly desperate and pathetic strain of thought, he considers asking what perfume you wear so he could spray his pillows with it. Jesus Christ, get a grip. It’s terrifying, the hold you have on him by doing so little. It’s like you have a voodoo doll stashed in your tote bag; potions that you drip into his water. It’s the only explanation. JJ Maybank has never been pussy whipped for a pussy that he hasn’t even seen. I guess you really do learn stuff at school.

“Okay, so,” you say, sitting back in your seat. You push your glasses up your nose: it’s adorable. “You remember learning about adaptation, right? Like how animals change themselves–”

“--to fit in with their environment and survive, yeah,” JJ finishes, surprising himself with how easily he plucks that knowledge from his memory. Your smile is beautiful, full of pride.

“Right. Exactly. So, if you think about a camel - like the question says, yeah? - and where they live, why would they need to store water in their humps?”

JJ looks down at the paper and reviews the picture of the camel. “They live in the desert,” he thinks aloud, watching you nod in her peripheral vision, “so there’s not much water. So they need to store water so they don’t become…thirsty?”

“Another word for thirsty?”

“Dehydrated?”

“Yes!” you grin. “Yes, that’s it.”

JJ laughs despite himself, shaking his head as he writes the answer down. “Never thought there’d be a day when I’m actually decent at school but here we are.”

“Well, never thought there’d be a day when I smoke a joint,” you counter teasingly. JJ flashes you his smile. “Alright, come on. We got ten more minutes. Finish the quiz.”

“Yeah, yeah, I’m on it, brown nose,” JJ mutters, sniggering when you flip him off. He fills in another answer before stealing another glance. You’re reading. Focusing intently on the page, knees brought up near your chest, book resting on the back of your thighs. “How’s the book?”

You look at him, visibly debate telling him to focus on his work, before answering. “It’s good. It’s the third in the series.”

“What’s it about?”

“It’s a fantasy. The usual stuff: witches and elves and stuff like that. Dragons, sometimes.”

“Fancy,” JJ mumbles, returning his attention to the paper. “Read something out-loud from it.”

You don’t say anything. Frowning, JJ’s eyes dart up to you. You’re staring at the page, clearly not reading. He starts to smirk, bemused. “What? Why don’t you read something?”

“It’s just, uh…Pretty boring, y’know?”

“Mhm,” JJ hums, unconvinced. He waits until you’re distracted before he quickly swipes the book from out of your hands. You shriek, jumping out of your seat.

“Give it back, JJ! Give it!”

“Come on! Just wanna see what you’re reading!”

“No!” you screech, chasing after him. The two of you perform some sort of dance around the tables of the classroom, white walls bright in the sunlight streaming through the wall of windows. JJ steps up onto one of the cabinets and holds the book high above his head, open on the page so he can read. You helplessly hop up and down below him, trying to swipe it from him. Through his laughter, it takes a moment to stop shaking and focus on the words. JJ begins to read. Then his eyebrows raise so high he’s surprised they don’t fly off his forehead.

“Holy shit!” he sniggers.

“JJ! Give me the book now, Goddamnit,” you demand, returning to the version he knew of you from week one.

He loses control a little when he comes, his grunts deep and unusually rough, his grip viselike, and she feels his orgasm course through her as if it were her own. She sucks him gently through the end of it, and when she looks up at him she’s wet and swollen and she feels empty, trembling, a messy lump on the floor.

“Open your mouth,” he rasps.

She blinks up at him, confused. He cups her cheek.

“I want you to open your mouth and show me.”

She complies, and the sound he makes, possessive and hungry and pleased at last, travels through her like a wave. He massages the back of her neck while she swallows, his thumb caressing her jaw, and when she smiles up–

The book is suddenly ripped from JJ’s hands. He’s in hysterics, doubling over, grabbing at his knees.

“Holy shit! That’s insane, I had no idea people wrote shit like that,” he manages out through gasps of air. But when he looks at you, his humour quickly fizzles out. You’re closing the book, eyes downcast, visibly upset. “Hey, shit, I was just messing around, okay? I didn’t mean to–”

You turn and walk back to your bag, shoving the book inside of it. JJ jumps down and follows, grabbing your wrist to get your attention. You reluctantly look up at him. Tears tease your waterline. Shit.

“Hey,” he says, voice soft, “I’m sorry. I was just messing ‘round. I just didn’t think books had stuff like that in them.”

“Yeah, well, they do,” you say, tugging your arm free and crossing them over your chest. “Didn’t have to be a douchebag ‘bout it.”

“That’s fair,” JJ hums, nodding. “M’sorry. Is it, uh…Is it good? Y’know? Book-porn?”

That has your lips quirking upwards. He smiles too. Rolling your eyes, you mumble, “it’s pretty good, yeah.”

“Yeah? I mean, seems pretty detailed,” JJ remarks, recalling the paragraph he read. You laugh quietly, shrugging.

“It is. That’s what girls like ‘bout it, y’know? It’s more focused on the girl. About her…y’know, pleasure and stuff.”

JJ hums, thinking. It seems like more work to him than just putting on porn or even finding someone to hook up with, but considering what he’s learnt about you, it makes sense that you prefer it. As the two of you return to your respective seats, and JJ returns to his quiz, his mind can’t help but wander. Did you have a boyfriend? A girlfriend? Did you hook-up with people whenever you felt like it, like he did, or were you a one-person kind of girl? Were you a virgin? JJ warily lets his eyes wash over you. You’ve given up on reading and are now scribbling on some print-out, probably preparing next week’s class. Your head is propped up in one hand, the end of the pencil pressed against your lips. His eyes trail down your face, over your chest, lingering. It was hard to get a read on you. He felt like you were either one of two extremes: a virgin, perhaps never been kissed, or a hardcore freak. He wasn’t sure which he liked more. Probably both. Either. Any. If JJ had his chance with you though…Holy shit. He wouldn’t let you out of bed for hours. He’d show you things you didn’t know, make you feel things that you’d only ever read about and daydreamed in the darkness of your bedroom. He’d have you screaming, close to tears, desperate to come again and again and–

“That’s time.”

JJ quickly focuses on the page, reads the last question, and ticks a random box. Clearing his throat, washing his thoughts away down the gutter, he sits back in his seat. You take the test from him and read over it. JJ watches you nervously, teeth nibbling at his lips, as you start to mark. For the first time in his life, he cares about this quiz. It isn’t a mock exam, doesn’t hold any real weight, but he’d like some proof that maybe he’s worth a shit. Maybe his brain isn’t a complete waste of space in his skull. Maybe, just maybe, JJ might be smart.

“Jury’s in,” you say, a mischievous glint in your eyes. You hold the paper back out to him, face down, and JJ eyes it nervously. “Go on.”

Sighing, he takes it and flips it over. His eyes quickly scan over the ticks and cross before honing in on the numbers outlined in a neat red circle. His lips part. “Eight out of ten?”

“Yep.”

“Eight out of ten?” he checks, meeting your eyes.

“Well, if you want to be really harsh with yourself, it’s more like 7.5 because I gave you that hint with the adaptation-camel thing, but everything else was all you,” you smile, nodding.

JJ can’t help but laugh in disbelief. He feels like he just passed his SATs. And if it wasn’t for you, he wouldn’t have gotten hardly one answer right. He wouldn’t have even tried. As if reading his mind, you gently remark, “you’re smarter than you think, JJ. Just gotta believe in yourself.”

“That’s the corniest shit you’ve ever said,” JJ snorts. But the look he gives you speaks volumes. Speaks of his thanks. You smile back, pretty like a magnolia in May, and JJ is petrified by the way his heart yearns.

The First Warning

“Whose turn is it?”

“Who’d you think?”

“Girl, she’s barely looked away from her phone.”

“Yo!”

Fingers snap in front of your face. You jump then frown at Esme. “The hell was that for?”

“It’s your turn, dipshit,” she playful replies, rolling her eyes.

“Oh. Sorry,” you mutter, turning off your phone. You ditch it beside you on the sofa and lean forward, grabbing the dice. They clatter against the vinyl board, bouncing over colourful squares and claimed buildings. “Alright, seven.”

As you move your counter around the Monopoly board, your phone buzzes with another message. Eyes drifting over to the screen, your lips instinctively twitch when you read JJ’s name. Esme narrows her eyes at you in suspicion and, quick as a cat, grabs for your phone.

“Esme! Give it!”

“Who are you texting so much?” she wonders. Lily and Palma giggle, scooching in to gather around the screen. You roll your eyes. These were your closest friends, you didn’t much mind if they found out - which they were bound to, considering Esme knew your passcode. Her voice isn’t particularly happy when she asks, “JJ?”

Rolling your eyes, you take your phone back and scan over the messages.

“Oh no.”

You look over the top of your phone and meet Esme’s eyes. You know that look. “Esme, it’s not like that.”

“You like him.”

“Esme–”

“You have a crush on JJ Maybank,” she announces. Lily and Palma gasp like they’re in a courtroom drama.

Shaking your head, you laugh as you say, “can you not use the word ‘crush’? Makes us sound like we’re in junior high.”

“Girl, this is serious,” Esme warns, shifting on the sofa so she’s facing you head on. “This is JJ Maybank we’re talking about here. Need I remind you who he is?”

“Fuckboy?” Lily offers.

“Asshole,” Palma chimes in.

“How about surprisingly nice person who is also really freaking hot?” you give as a rebuttal.

“Are we forgetting what he did to you?” Esme wonders, genuinely alarmed by your change of tune. “I mean, not more than a month ago he was enemy number one and now, what? You’re sending him cute little dad-jokes?”

“He’s not like what I thought, a’right? He’s actually pretty sweet,” you meekly reply.

“Wait, what did he do to you?” Lily asks, frowning.

You roll your eyes. “Literally nothing.”

“Nothing? You cried in the bathroom stalls for, like, twenty minutes!”

“It was ten minutes, and that was over a year ago,” you argue. “Jesus, you’re acting like he skinned my cat or something.”

“Hello!” Palma interrupts, throwing up her arms. Her cornrows sway off her shoulders as she asks, “are either of you going to tell me and Lily what he did?”

Sighing, you force yourself back to English class last year.

“I’ve got to say, guys. Not your finest hour,” the teacher, Mrs Halls, remarks as she paces the aisles of the classroom. You chew nervously on your lower lip. You’d spent hours studying for this test; even pulled an all nighter just to cram in as much content as possible. You’ve read Romeo and Juliet enough times to recount almost every line. Recited the sonnets in your sleep as if you’d written them yourself.

As she makes her way between the desks, your foot thrums against the vinyl flooring. To your left, she delivers a quiz paper onto a desk. JJ Maybank’s desk. He was hardly ever in class. Sometimes he’d get up and leave halfway through and not bother coming back. You’d never shared a word.

“Poor work, Mr Maybank. I want you to see me after class,” Mrs Halls berates. JJ tugs off his cap and runs his fingers through his hair, huffing, rocking back in his seat.

Then, your test sheet is returned to you. “Nice job. Top of the class - as always,” Mrs Halls tells you proudly, finishing with a wink. You smile, relieved, satisfied, and look back down at the neat A+ staring up at you. But your joy is short lived. JJ snorts, scoffs more like, and you glance over at him.

“Fuckin’ virgin.”

The girl behind him overhears, as does the boy in front, and they both snigger underbreath. Your face burns hot and your eyes dart back down to your paper, head hanging with shame. Tears sting your eyes and you try desperately not to let them fall. And they don’t, at least not until you’re out of class and in the bathrooms with Esme.

Lily and Palma’s sympathy is palpable. You roll your eyes. “Look, who cares? He was probably pissed with himself and took it out on someone else.”

“Oh, yeah, so I really want you to catch feelings for a guy like that - y’know, now that you’ve put it that way,” Esme sardonically replies.

Sighing, you reach out and meddle with your game token. “I’m not stupid, okay? I don’t like JJ like that. There’s no point. So, you don’t gotta worry ‘bout anything.”

Guys like JJ Maybank did not go out with girls like you. It was as simple as the alphabet. The maths was easy: he was a commitment-phobe, heartthrob with a craving for adrenaline and adventure; and you were a rule-abiding, goody-two-shoes with an affinity for a good book and cup of tea. Hell, you’d smoked your first joint for the first time a few weeks ago and had your first casual drink outside of a holiday celebration. Skipping class was practically a religion to JJ whereas just the thought made you feel sick. The two of you were opposites, and whilst it might be true for magnets, the world of romance was quite a different story. It may attract, but that doesn’t mean it’s viable.

But despite the logic, you knew you were lying. You had fallen for him, hard and fast. How could you not? He was funny and charming and attractive. He had a tenderness that he hid beneath the surface, like a tortoise cocooned in a shell. There was a sweetness to JJ, the kind that made the memory of his cruel remark feel false. But Esme’s disapproval and your own insecurity were poignant. You don’t text JJ back for the rest of the night.

The Ninth Lesson

Since that day on the beach, you have never been late for another tutoring session. Now that JJ had made friends with you, if either of you were running late, you’d send a text message and the whole thing would be put to rest. That to say, when you were late to the session by an entire hour, JJ knew something must be wrong. You hadn’t replied to a single message he’d sent. Forgetting things was not your style, especially your tutoring sessions with JJ. He hadn’t outright asked, but something told the blonde haired boy that you enjoyed his company as much as he enjoyed yours. He wasn’t blind. He’d seen you taking peaks at him during the lessons the same way he did with you. As arrogant as he could be with his looks, JJ knew you weren’t like the others girls who fell at his feet. You were complex, contradicting, and chemical.

The debate to go to your house is brief in JJ’s head. He’s given you several rides home after tutoring. The drive was always something he looked forward to, as well. You had a similar taste in music and the conversation flowed like a fresh water spring. It’s starting to feel second nature when JJ takes a left onto your street. You don’t live in Figure Eight but it’s a nicer area than where JJ resides. Somewhat of a middle ground, your neighbourhood is something of a suburban dreamscape. Children play in the streets and some front lawns even have sprinklers, when the drought isn’t around.

JJ parks outside your door and sighs, checking his appearance in the rearview mirror. He fixes his hair under his cap and checks his teeth. God knows when that started becoming a habit. Then he’s hopping out the Twinkie and wandering up to your front door, hands in pockets. He raps gently on the red painted wood and waits patiently. He glances up and down the street and rocks on his heels. The door swings open and JJ turns, jumping into his introduction before he has a chance to see who it is.

“Hey, I was wonderin’–” When he comes face to face with nothing, his head tilts down to find a little boy looking up at him. JJ’s breath catches in his throat. The child’s face is disfigured. It isn’t ugly and it isn’t horrifying in any way, but it is enough to notice. Enough to have a person take pause. JJ tries not to stare at the strange patching of skin and the protrusions of flesh. Instead, he ducks down so they’re more level at the eye. “Hey little buddy. Your sister home?”

He’s visibly nervous. “My sissy?”

“Yeah. Your sissy home?”

“Mhm,” he nods. He glances behind him, down the hallway, then back to JJ. “Are you her boyfriend?”

JJ eyes widen slightly. “Oh, uh, nah, little dude. Just someone she’s helping out.”

“Oh.”

“Hey, could you do me a solid, little man, and go get her for me?” JJ wonders. The little boy studies him for a moment. His eyes don’t seem to focus, one tracking a little slower than the other. JJ waits patiently.

“Why aren’t you her boyfriend?”

“Well, that’s a pretty long story,” JJ chuckles, rubbing the back of his neck.

“Are you a surfer?” With that, the little boy points at JJ’s t-shirt. It’s one of his graphic tees from a local surf shop in town. Grinning, JJ nods.

“Yeah, I sure am. Are you a surfer?”

“Sissy won’t let me,” he replies through mumbled words. He rubs at his arm, one hand still holding tight to the door handle. “Says it’s dangerous.”

“It can be,” JJ replies. “Pretty dope though. I bet you’d make a cool surfer.”

“Leo, I’ve told you before to pick up your toys when you’re finished playing!” Your voice comes from some far room in the house. JJ glances over (what must be) Leo’s shoulder to spot you walking into frame. You look pretty frazzled, clearly working through some sort of mental checklist. “Leo?”

“Here, sissy,” Leo calls back. Your head turns and you notice your brother first, then the open door, and then JJ. Visibly startled, your lips part. Hurrying over, you lay a protective hand on your brother’s head, taking the door in your hand.

“JJ. What are you doing here?”

“You, uh, didn’t come to the school so I wanted to check you were a’right,” JJ explains, raising back to his full height. “Little dude here said you were home so…”

“Sissy,” Leo says, tugging on your t-shirt. You glance down at him and this smile comes over your face that reminds JJ of a warm blanket. “Is this your boyfriend?”

“Oh, uh,” you’re flustered, glancing quickly at JJ before returning your focus to your brother. “No, honey. This is just, uh, a friend that I’ve been tutoring.”

“Oh,” Leo says. He tugs at your shirt again. “Sissy?”

“Yes, Leo,” you say with undying patience.

“You should ask him to be your boyfriend,” Leo tells you. The two of you manage to hold back your laughs.

“Really? Why’s that?”

“He’s a surfer. Said I could be a surfer too,” Leo says.

“Oh did he now?” you wonder, looking up at JJ. He smiles apologetically. Oops. Shaking your head, you recall what JJ said prior to Leo’s interruption. “Wait, what’d you mean I wasn’t at school? Class isn’t ‘til one.”

“Yeah…It’s nearly three in the afternoon, now.”

Alarmed, you grab at your phone and groan. It’s dead. JJ shows you his. Your horror is borderline hilarious. “Shit, I’m so sorry, I don’t even…God, I just lost track of time. Um…Come in, actually. Come in.”

You and Leo make space for JJ to walk through the doorway. He closes it behind him. Leo grabs quickly at JJ’s shirt and pulls him with surprising strength through the hallway and into the living room.

“Look, look!” Leo exclaims, grabbing at any and all toys in sight. One is familiar to JJ when he takes it in his hand. It’s the toy car he fixed for him. His eyes drift to yours to find you watching everything unfold with a strange expression on your face. Something tells JJ that this is a little overwhelming for you. He’s amicable when he places the car back down on the floor.

“Listen, little dude, those are some sick-ass toys. But I really need to start this lesson with your sister, huh? Maybe we could play some other time?”

“Teach me to surf,” Leo seemingly demands. Your face falls.

“Leo, honey, we’re not learning to surf today,” you gently say.

Leo looks between yourself and JJ and his face begins to contort. His lips tremble and your eyes slant with concern. His fists clench at his sides and he stamps his feet.

“Teach me to surf! Teach me to surf! I want to surf!” Leo shouts. His hands begin to thump against the sides of his head and you rush over, dropping to your knees.

“JJ, can you wait in the kitchen please?”

JJ does as he’s asked, quickly leaving the room, overhearing your pleading with your little brother. Through the muffled door, he can follow some of the conversation despite his trying not to. He occupies himself by looking at pictures on the wall and on the fridge. A drawing that Leo must have done - of him on a surfboard - and a picture of you and him from Christmas. You look sweet like cinnamon in your reindeer pyjamas. There’s an impressive collection of report cards and certificates and rewards, all addressed to you. A framed photo on the wall has JJ taking pause. The man in the frame is striking in similarity to you. He’s dressed in army formals, staring stoically ahead before a grey background. The ones around it are more casual. A family vacation. You in the marching band (so he was right, you did used to do that). The infamous spelling bee victory.

“How ‘bout this: tomorrow, me and you go to the beach together, huh? Sound fair?” your voice creeps through the walls.

“Sissy take me to the beach tomorrow?”

“Yes. Sissy take you to the beach tomorrow,” you say. The relief is evident in your voice. JJ cracks the kitchen door open, sensing an end to the conversation. “How ‘bout you tidy up your toys whilst I hang out with my friend, hm? Sound fair?”

“M’kay.”

“Gimme a hug.”

JJ catches your embrace through the crack of the half-closed door. He smiles to himself. He’s never seen this version of you. It’s like you’ve transformed into a different person. When you reappear in the hallway, closing the door behind you, it’s as if you struggle to meet JJ’s eyes.

“Come on, we can study upstairs,” you say, leading the way.

Your bedroom is not how JJ imagined it. Parts of it are - the Jellycats and the candles and the motivational quotes on the wall - but he’s startled by how little possessions you have. There’s not a lot of books, like he was expecting, and your bed is simple with a duvet and two pillows. Your desk is a mess: papers and pens and highlighters and sticky notes. JJ closes the door behind him as you clear some clothes off your bed.

“Sorry I forgot,” you say as you clean. “I had to sort out Leo’s dinner and he’s decided that he doesn’t like pizza now, he only likes dinosaur nuggets. And they have to be dinosaur shaped, or else all hell breaks loose. And then the laundry needed doing cause my mom needs her scrubs and–”

You stand upright and sigh, bringing your hands to your face. If JJ wasn’t in your family home, he’d offer you a joint. Instead, he stands and waits, unsure whether he should hug you or not. You haven’t crossed that line yet, although somehow standing in your bedroom feels miles more intimate. Another steadying breath and you’re pulling your hands from your face, fixing your glasses.

“Thanks, by the way.”

“For what?” JJ frowns.

“Y’know. For being nice to Leo,” you reply, gesturing to your door.

JJ’s frown deepens. “Course. Why wouldn’t I be?”

“Just sometimes people can be…” You shake your head, drop onto your bed, and sigh loudly. “Assholes. They can be real assholes. Kids especially. Which, fair enough, they’re kids, but come on.”

JJ chuckles quietly. He sits beside you on your bed, sinking into the plush comforter. “He’s a cool kid. And I honestly don’t mind teaching him to surf. Might be cool to have a little apprentice.”

You laugh at that, smiling at him. “A little protege?”

“Sure,” JJ shrugs, not fully knowing what that word means. He wants to tell you how pretty you look right now, despite being a little flustered from rushing around. You’re clearly busy. Busy in a way JJ didn’t know about and could never relate to. The question catches in his throat. It doesn’t feel appropriate to ask but it’s hard to keep it at bay for long. “Can I ask…What…What is it?”

You take a small breath before replying, looking down at your hands. “It’s a few things, really. Doctors aren’t even sure they can give it one name. He’s neurodivergent, so he likes routine and familiarity. Emotions are pretty big for him. They can be hard to manage. He’s getting better at compromise, though, which is nice. Uh…There’s also something developmental there. He’s nine, but he acts more like he’s seven, and his language is more at that stage too. He’s smart though. Really bright. The kids at school aren’t always so nice so sometimes I give him lessons, to help, y’know, bridge those gaps.”

JJ listens intently, nodding. Rolling your shoulders back, you let out a relieved sigh. He wonders if you’ve ever spoken to someone about this stuff before. If you have someone to lean on, vent to. He imagines Esme might fill that role to some degree.

“The physical stuff…That’s because of a gene. Well, two genes, that my mom and dad both had, and it was luck of the draw. In another life, in another world, I would look like him. He had a shitton of surgery when he was little so he could breathe better, talk better, look better. Some helped home with mobility too. His tongue, uh…was too big for his mouth? They had to sort of…reduce it? It was a rough few years. Mom had to pick up extra shifts to get better health insurance and help cover the bills. My dad was in the forces and he’s deployed a lot. He is right now, in fact. I guess I learnt how to grow up fast.”

You laugh despite yourself, shaking your head, and meet JJ’s eyes. “I feel like I’m five different people. Sometimes more. I have to be the sister, and the daughter, and the mom, at times. I have to be the best friend and the star student. And then, I have to be the teenager. Even though most of the time I feel like a mini adult, trying to keep everything in order. I don’t know, maybe that’s why I’m so neurotic. Shit, I’m probably a psyche major’s dream case study.”

JJ laughs along with you but the words hang heavy in the air and in his heart. He could relate, though, to some of it. “I get it.”

“You don’t have to say that,” you solemnly reply, smiling sadly.

JJ shakes his head. “No, I really get it. A bit, anyway. Having to grow up fast. Being different people.”

It feels empty to leave it at that, like faux empathy to defuse an awkward situation. Sighing, JJ’s fingers meddle with a stray thread on your duvet cover. “My dad’s in and out of trouble a lot. Jailtime and stuff, y’know? I learnt pretty fast that if I didn’t wanna go hungry, I gotta fend for myself more. Started working. Started stealing. Just had to survive, right?”

You nod sadly. ‘I’m sorry’ falls silently from your lips as you offer him a smile, and JJ’s heart drops down through his ribcage, into his stomach, because nobody has ever looked at him like that before. Looked at him as if they can see right through him. Through the facade and into his soul, into his mind. Look at him like they understand him. It’s terrifying. JJ’s throat feels tight and dry and his brain feels full. Butterflies tickle at his intestines as his eyes slowly, slowly, fall to your lips. It feels like a temptation when your tongue darts out to wet them, your teeth rolling over your lower lip, and he wonders what lip balm you’re wearing today. He wonders what you’ll taste like.

JJ isn’t sure which one of you begins to move first, but soon enough, he can feel your breath on his lips. When his mouth presses to yours, his eyes sink shut and his heart nearly explodes from how fast it’s beating. Your fingers slip over the top of his hand as if holding him in place, keeping him close. JJ’s head tilts and so does yours, and you deepen the kiss. You taste like cherry cola. Cherry cola and lemonade. You sigh against him and one of JJ’s hands comes up to your cheek, fingers tracing the soft skin before cupping your jaw, guiding your movements with his. Your own hand creeps further up his hand, along his arm, until it’s looping over his shoulder, keeping him near. It’s sighs and hums and pure, simple pleasure as the two of you make-out. It’s never like this. Never this patient, exploring, wading through the waters, finding out what little move makes the other person react. The brush of teeth on lower lips, the shadow of tongues dancing against one another. JJ’s used to fast and fiery, rushing to get to the next part. This, right here, feels like JJ could kiss you forever and never once grow tired.

The two of you are so consumed in one another that neither hears your mothers voice down the hall. It isn’t until a floorboard creaks just outside your door that you’re springing away from him, wide eyed. JJ’s still in a daze when the door swings open. You wipe your mouth with the back of your hand and JJ strategically sits so his crotch isn’t in view.

“Honey have you–” Your mom’s words die on her tongue. JJ musters up some courage to look over to the doorway to find a blank expression on her face. “You’re not one of my kids.”

“No, uh, mom this is the guy I was telling you about. The guy that I’m tutoring, I mean,” you stumble through your words, gesturing to JJ. He gives a nod and tense smile.

“Hiya, ma’am.”

“Ugh, don’t call me ma’am when I’m not on duty,” your mom groans, rubbing tiredly at her forehead. You chuckle and JJ realises it’s a joke, faking a laugh of his own. Then her eyes narrow as she looks between the two of you. “Tutoring, huh?”

“Yeah, uh, your daughter’s been helping me get my grades up over the summer. Mr Sunn hired her, actually. It’s all legit,” JJ reels off. Her eyebrows raise.

“Okay, well…Sure. If you say so,” she says. She doesn’t sound particularly convinced. Her eyes train back onto you. “What I was gonna ask was, did you wash my scrubs?”

“Yeah. They’re in the dryer right now. Should be good to go in an hour.”

“Perfect,” she sighs, relieved. “Oh, and Leo?”

“He’s had his dinner. I had to run to the shops cause I thought he liked the unicorn shaped nuggets but it’s actually the dinosaur shaped ones, and we didn’t have any of those.”

“Nuggets? I thought he liked pizza. Thought he hated nuggets?”

“No, no, he’s done a complete one-eighty. Decided yesterday that nuggets are the new meaning of life; pizza is out,” you explain with a too-cheery laugh.

“You said you bought some? How much were they?” Your mom worries, but you brush her off. She rubs at her head and laughs self-deprecating. “Jeez, some mom I am, huh? Can’t even remember what my own kids like to eat.”

Before you can say anything, she’s plastering on a smile and reaching for the door handle. It seems as though she just woke up from a nap. “Alright, well, I’m gonna get ready for work. You kids, uh, have fun…studying.”

“Thanks mom,” you smile, nodding.

She begins to close the door, but lingers when it’s a crack open. “And use protection.”

“Mom!” The door slams shut. Groaning, mortified, you drop your head in your hands. “Sorry ‘bout her.”

“She seems nice,” JJ chuckles. Shaking your head, you look up at him.

“Don’t indulge her,” you say jokingly. The smiles linger on your faces as you look at one another. JJ wants to kiss you again. He’s not sure if he’s supposed to be able to think about anything else now that he knows what you taste like. Those fantasies are back, the ones he shoved down in a box, and he wants to fulfill all of them. But you’re back to your usual ways: duty-focused. Getting to your feet, you slap your hands together. “Alright! Lesson time! Let’s start with…Romeo and Juliet.”

“Are you going to the kegger on Friday?” JJ asks out of the blue.

You look over to him from your desk, where you’re flitting through the impressive stack of papers. “Kegger? What kegger?”

“This kegger on Friday. Meant to be a good one. Down at the boneyard.”

“I don’t know,” you mumble, turning back to the papers. “I’ve never been to one before. Wouldn’t even know what to do.”

“Come find me and I can show you,” is JJ’s suave reply. You snigger, rolling your eyes. “I mean it. It’d do you good to get to wear the ‘teenager’ hat or whatever you called it.”

Sighing, you venture back to him with the worksheets for the day in your hands. “Maybe. How’s that?”

“Good enough for now,” JJ relents. Before JJ can try and make a move, you’re thrusting papers into his hands. He groans, disappointed, and you only pretend not to care.

“Okay, so: Romeo and Juliet. We all know what a shitshow that was…”

The First Kegger

“I feel ridiculous.”

“You look it.” You toss a Jellycat at Esme’s head. “Hey!”

“That’s not very supportive of you,” you mutter, glancing at the mirror. You fiddle with the hem of the skirt and try to shimmy it further down your legs. It feels ridiculously short and revealing. God help you if you drop anything, there’s no way in hell you can bend over to pick it up.

“Why’d I be supportive of this? You’re going to a kegger purely to appease the patriarchal nightmare that is JJ Maybank.”

“You don’t have to use his full name every time, y’know?” You reply, choosing to ignore her complaint.

“Girl, this ain’t you.”

“It might be me. I can go to keggers.”

“Sure, okay, go to keggers - that don’t mean you have to cosplay as somebody else,” Esme sighs. She gets up from the bed and walks over to you. Her fingers meddle with the straps of the rather skimpy top you’re wearing. You’ll spend the whole night crossing your arms to try and cover your chest. Meeting your gaze, she sighs once more and takes a step back. “Look, if you really think this thing with JJ Maybank has legs then at least be yourself. I thought we agreed that as feminist women we wouldn’t conform to society’s brainwashing of what an attractive, ideal woman is.”

“You’re giving me a headache,” you mutter. But as you glance back in the mirror, you can’t help but agree. This isn’t you. The skirt, the top: it feels unnatural. Wordlessly, you walk over to your dresser and dig about through the drawers. The outfit that replaces the ‘hot-girl starter kit’ eases your anxiety in a second. An adorable skort and crochet style cropped sweater that sits pretty over a tank top. Yes, that’s more like it. Esme seems to agree, as she nods approvingly from the bed where she’s taken purchase once again. The reflection you’re met with smiles back at you. But then the thought of actually going to the kegger makes reality weigh heavy. “I don’t know…Maybe I shouldn’t go.”

“You look cute. It might be fun, you never know,” Esme shrugs.

Sighing, you flop down on your bed beside her and stare up at the ceiling. The glow-in-the-dark stars you pasted there when you were thirteen have lost their shine, but they still have a dull illuminessence that feels like safety. “What if I’ve got this all wrong?”

“Didn’t you say he kissed you? How could you get that wrong?”

“I don’t know, I just…What if he’s doing it to mess with me?”

Esme thinks for a moment then groans. She sits up and huffs. “I can’t believe I’m actually going to defend this douchebag but,” she mutters, before meeting your eyes, “I think he might really be into you. And if you’re going to let some silly self-loathing stop you from being happy, then that’s pretty depressing. And sad. And pathetic.”

“Thank you,” you deadpan. She grins. You give a small smile back. “You’re right. But you know what would make this miles better?”

Realisation dawns upon her and her reaction would make it seem liek you asked her to go bungee jumping with you. Esme’s head begins to shake as yours begins to nod. “No. Nope. No way.”

“Yes! Come on, we can go together! Solidarity in numbers and all that!”

“I would do anything for you, but wingmanning you at a social event that reinforces incorrect assumptions that excessive alcohol consumption is synonymous with being cool is–”

You plaster a hand over her mouth. Glaring, you say, “shut up and get changed, will you?”

She stares at you as if challenging you to break, but you don’t. Rolling her eyes, Esme pushes your hand off her mouth and begrudgingly gets up and off the bed. Mutters and complaints fall from her mouth as she rifles through your clothes. ‘You’re lucky you’re my best friend’ is the most common.

After the time spent debating whether or not to attend, changing outfits, and convincing Esme to join you, the two of you walk up to the kegger almost three hours in. It’s bustling and boisterous. Groups of friends are scattered across the beach and the dunes. People sit on the driftwood and chat animatedly. Boys wrestle and jeer at one another near a makeshift bonfire. Girls gossip and giggle amongst themselves as they catch eyes with classmates across the way. Tourons huddle nervously together and try their best to appear at ease and at home in the boneyard. The Kooks tend to keep their distance from the Pogues, a strange invisible divide drawn in the sand. Keggers and coolers are stacked up beside some speakers, with R&B and hip-hop music thumping out across the seashore. It’s nearly completely dark outside, save for a thin line of navy just above the shoreline. The bonfire works well in illuminating the sand with a warm, orange glow.

“Holy shit,” Esme mutters. You snort. This was a first for the both of you. “This already blows.”

“The music’s pretty decent, at least,” you comment as the two of you weave through gaggles of teenagers. It seems you’re both naturally gravitating towards the keg to grab a drink. Red solo cups are stacked precariously beside the beverages and you grab one each. As Esme chatters and fills up your cups, your eyes scan the beach in search of a certain blonde haired boy. You’d texted JJ before leaving but had yet to get a response. Glancing down at your phone to double-check, you notice that the service is appalling, and sigh, pocketing the device again.

“You found him yet?”

“Nope. Holy crap, can you believe how busy it is?”

“Look out!” someone shouts. With that, you and Esme stumble back as two guys tumble in front of you onto the sand, wrestling. Esme rolls her eyes and mutters into her cup, ‘imbeciles’ before taking a sip. Your fingers nervously press into the plastic over and over as you scan the beach over and over. It’s so busy and in the darkness, it’s hard to make out faces. Everybody looks the same (save for the Kooks, who are dressed in designer threads). You and Esme find yourselves in what feels like a safe spot on the beach. Sitting on an old tree trunk, you sip at your beers and people-watch whilst discussing the gossip you knew of your classmates. It’s nice to have her company; you’d have no idea how you would have coped if you had come on your own. Checking your phone once more, there’s still no text from JJ. Just as you’re about to recommend leaving - already an hour in - Esme is suggesting to get a refill and give it a bit more time. You’d made the journey and the effort, after all.

Approaching the keg, you vaguely recognise the boy refilling his cup. Smiling, you call out, “Pope!” and watch as he startles and turns around. His smile is amicable.

“Hey! Uh…YN, right?”

“That’s the one,” you smile. The alcohol gives you a boost of social confidence, what with your tolerance so low. “You remember Esme, right?”

“How could I forget? Mathlete reigning champion,” Pope smiles at a rather smug Esme.

“Hey, you wouldn’t happen to know where JJ is, would you?” Esme asks on your behalf. Your face burns hot at the directness of her question.

Pope doesn’t seem to be phased, however. He looks around as he says, “he is here somewhere. I’ve been hanging with Kie though so I lost track of him. He’ll show up.”

Esme gives you a nudge and you roll your eyes, smiling into your cup to try and hide your glee. He’s here.

“JJ says you’ve been tutoring him at Mr Sunn’s request?” Pope asks you. You nod.

“Yep. Once a week for over a month now.”

“Honestly, you deserve a medal for that. I gave up trying a long time ago,” Pope remarks joshingly.

“He’s actually doing pretty great. I think it’s making a difference.”

The rest of the conversation stretches on with Pope. You start to exchange stories from the chess team and Mathletes and Model UN and, eventually, the Spelling Bee tale comes up. Unaware of the secret vendetta Pope held against you following your victory, it’s fair to see you have a good laugh when it’s revealed. The three of you become more giddy and familiar as the conversation continues and you wonder why you and Pope had never hung over before, when you seemingly have so much in common. When Esme wanders off to go find somewhere to pee, you and Pope sit side-by-side on some driftwood and discuss the latest fantasy book you both happened to be reading.

“I gotta say, I did not see Eldmore and Scarlett getting together,” Pope tells you. You scoff, gaping at him.

“How could you not!? He was practically falling at her feet in the second book!”

“I don’t know, I just thought he had more chemistry with Mistress Londar.”

You consider this as you take another sip of your drink. You’re three beers in now and can certainly feel its effects; probably best to quit while you’re ahead. “I guess. Mistress Londar is in too deep with the alliance, though. I think it would have been too much of a conflict.”

“Maybe. Still. That one chapter when Eldmore and Scarlett…y’know…do it,” Pope’s voice trails off and the memory has you laughing. Smiling brightly at him, you’re far too excited to have the opportunity to mention JJ.

“That was the chapter I was reading when JJ stole the book from me. I think it might have scarred him for life,” you snigger.

Pope laughs, shaking his head. “The stuff he gets up to? I doubt it.”

As the laughter dies down, Pope goes to take another drink only to find his cup empty. Smiling apologetically, he rises to his feet. “I’m gonna get a refill. It was nice talking to you though. See you ‘round?”

“Sure,” you smile, nodding. With that, Pope walks away. You stay put for a moment, considering what to do. The interaction with Pope had distracted you from your search for JJ. Upon checking your phone, you realise you’d been conversing for over an hour. Oops. Esme had also vanished. You better go look for her. Getting back up, you ditch your cup and walk around the boneyard. You thought it would have started to die down with how late it was getting but, if anything, it seems busier than ever. The alcohol has your head slightly fuzzy and you concentrate on not tripping over. You’re not drunk - not by a long shot - but it’s probably best not to have any more for the night. Pulling out your phone, you try texting Esme despite the poor cell service: Where are you? When you look back up and glance around the beach, your heart stutters.

There’s JJ, as gorgeous as ever, stood talking to some random girl. He’s leaning against an abandoned, rusted watch tower, nursing a red solo cup, and staring at her as she talks. He seems to be listening rather intently to the story she’s telling, nodding his head, as her hands move as she speaks. When her fingers brush against his forearm, you suddenly feel very sick. And then, he laughs.

The tears kick in with the embarrassment and disappointment. How could you be so stupid? Of course he doesn’t want to be with you. Of course he isn’t going to change. Of course he’d want somebody else.

A hand on your back has you jumping and spinning around. Esme. You sigh in relief. She frowns at your expression, spotting the tears in your eyes.

“What’s wrong? What happened?”

You shake your head and grab her hand. “Let’s just go. I wanna leave.”

“Hey, what–” Her voice trails off and you know she must have spotted JJ. You remain with your back to the interaction and try tugging on Esme’s arm to prompt her to move, but her feet are welded into the sand. “That filthy, slimy little toad of a man, I swear to God–”

“Esme, please,” you beg. Your voice cracks and gives you away. She meets your gaze. You shake your head desperately and a tear falls. “Please, I just want to leave.”

Huffing, she takes one last look at JJ talking to the girl before reluctantly appeasing you. The two of you walk down the beach, hands interlocked, and you sniffle pathetically as you try to wash the image from your mind. Why would he invite you just to get with somebody else? Why would he kiss you if he didn’t want anything? Why would he do this to you? Why? Why? Why?

Your mind jumps back to that day in the classroom. The sneer in his voice when he muttered those two words. The sniggers from the classmates that felt like elephants trampling on your chest. The shame and the embarrassment that overcame you. You were so convinced that he was a different person. That you’d merely caught him on an off day and you didn’t know him, not truly. The day at your house was so special: it felt like finding gold in the attic. Nobody had ever seen your life up close apart from Esme. Not even Lily or Palma. Nobody had ever met your brother apart from Esme, either. Had heard your fears and anxieties and seen your exhaustion not once, but twice. You’d trusted him. You let him into your home and gave him a snapshot of your life and you thought he understood. But you must have thought wrong.

Esme doesn’t try to spark a conversation as the two of you walk back to your house. She gives you a long, lingering hug at your front door before bidding you goodnight. Slipping into the house, you keep your footsteps light and your cries quiet as you make your way up the stairs. Your mom’s bedroom door is shut and you can hear her snoring through the walls. Leo’s bedroom door is open by a crack and you wipe your tears and sneak inside. He’s lying in his bed, bundled up in his dinosaur bed sheets, cuddling his stuffy. He looks so peaceful like this. So safe from other children’s whispers and other parent’s horrified stares. So safe from the world and its cruelty. The cruelty that you were exposed to tonight. Ducking down beside him, you brush your hand lightly over his hair and press a kiss to his forehead. Climbing into bed has never felt like such a relief before now.

The Final Lesson

You haven’t texted JJ since the kegger on Friday. His message he sent last night went without a response but JJ’s sure you read it. He was clarifying that the lesson was still on for today, in the usual spot in school. At your lack of response, JJ simply assumed that it was routine as always, and packed up his backpack for his lesson. He isn’t sure how to explain it, but when JJ passes through the threshold of the building, something feels off. It’s as if the air is thick like molasses, study and heavy, pushing against his throat. A bizarre feeling of unease washes over him with every step he takes. The classroom door is shut and JJ pushes it open, finding you sat at the desk. Your head is down and you’re reading something laid out in front of you. There’s less paperwork than usual stacked by your side. You don’t look up or smile at him as JJ walks in. You don’t even acknowledge that he’s there. JJ suddenly feels nauseous. What the hell is going on?

“Hey,” he says, unsure, as he walks over to the table. The glance you give him is brief.

“Hey,” you mumble.

Frowning, JJ takes his seat. You’re focusing pretty hard on whatever it is before you. JJ takes a long inhale and waits. Eventually, you clear your throat and push over the paper.

“This is, uh, your scoresheet from all our lessons. Y’know, so you have physical proof of what we covered and how you performed in the different quizzes.”

JJ’s frown deepens with your words. He slowly takes the paper from you and scans over it.

“You can give it to Mr Sunn if you like, but I’ve already emailed him a copy so he has it. He’s aware that you’ve attended every session, save for the one in week two, but–”

“Wait, what the hell is going on?” JJ interrupts. His heart is starting to beat faster, his anxiety building, because this sounds an awful lot like goodbye. “Are the lessons done?”

When you meet JJ’s eyes, he hardly recognises you. You haven’t looked at him with that level of nonchalance since the early weeks. Pushing up your glasses, you say, “yes, the lessons are done.”

JJ blinks at you and waits for you to drop the act. He waits for you to make a joke and tease him like always. He waits to see your expression melt with that smile that he likes to think is saved just for him. But instead, you just look at him. It pisses him off.

“The fuck d'you mean ‘the lessons are done’?”

“JJ–”

“You never told me that we were finishing the lessons. I mean, shit, I just walk in here and suddenly it’s over? I don’t understand!”

“We’ve covered all the content that you need to cover before the next semester starts–”

“--Bullshit we have!”

“JJ!”

“No, no, I don’t know what the hell is going on,” JJ argues loudly, “but you’re fucking with me.”

“JJ, please,” you plead. It’s the first crack in your icy exterior. Your lip quivers as you try and steady yourself. There’s little power behind your voice as you say, “please don’t make this harder than it has to be.”

JJ’s heart squeezes and he rubs at it through his t-shirt. He feels like you’ve just shoved him off a cliff and he’s falling and falling and falling, and you’re just standing there and watching it happen. It doesn’t make any sense. It’s as if you’ve both been reading the same book and then you’ve skipped ahead three chapters. He tries to calm himself down, taking a few slow, shaky breaths. His eyes press shut and in the darkness behind his lids, he sees your face, moments before he kissed you. Shaking his head, he opens his eyes and looks at you.

“You could at least give me a reason.”

You’re visibly uncomfortable. Swallowing, you look down at the papers before you and meddle with the corner of one until it starts to split. JJ utters your name and you sigh, squeezing your eyes shut.

“I don’t know why you’re making a big deal of this. It’s not like it means anything to you,” you tell him quietly. JJ’s brows furrow.

“What're talking about?”

Sighing once more, you lift your head and meet JJ’s gaze. There’s a sadness behind your eyes that he’s never seen before. “I saw you at the kegger.”

JJ’s frown deepens as his brows tug closer together. “Huh?”

“The kegger, JJ, I saw you there,” you say, firmer. Shaking your head, you busy your hands with anything and everything as you ramble. “You have every right to get with whoever you want to get with and mack on any girl you like, but you could at least, y’know, clarify before doing it. I was just confused. It felt like a sick joke or somethin’ and I really hope that you wouldn’t be that cruel but…But it just confused me and I don’t think I can compartmentalise this dynamic if that's the case...”

JJ’s shaking his head frantically. He holds up his hands in mock surrender as if trying to ease traffic. “Woah, woah, slow down, you lost me. What d’you mean you ‘saw’ me?”

“With that girl, JJ.” Your voice is thick with despondency. “I saw you at the old watchtower talking to her and…I don’t know…”

Oh.

JJ isn’t a genius at most things, romance being one of them, but he had a sense for when things were deeper than a fling. He knew his own emotionality enough to recognise when he liked someone, even if he was reluctant to admit it. It didn’t take a scientist or therapist and even a mere scholar to read you right now. The way you’re looking anywhere but him; the way your hands are practically tearing the paperwork, that seemed to follow you like a shadow, into shreds; the way you’re so desolate and so vulnerable in your words, strategically saying so much without saying anything at all. It’s like how you taught him during Romeo and Juliet: ‘you have to read between the lines’.

“You’ve got it all wrong,” JJ says, suddenly calm.

“JJ, you don’t have to–”

“I was looking for you all night,” he interrupts. You seem unwilling to accept this, sighing and shaking your head, refusing to meet his gaze. “I was. I swear it. I was looking for you the whole night and then, when I found you, you were talking to Pope.”

That has you taking pause. Your fingers finally cease their relentless vandalism. JJ sees your eyes flicker over to him warily. He takes the gap to continue.

“You were talking for an hour. Maybe more. And you were laughing and…And I’m not an idiot, a’right? I know that you and Pope have a million more things in common, and that he’s actually got a hope in hell of making something out of himself. You’re both smart. It’s probably fucking fate. And I’m not gonna stand in the way of that, a’right? I ain’t gonna stop two people from being happy and shit just because I like you too. It ain’t fair. Pope’s a good guy. He’d be good to you.”

The hopeful part of JJ’s psyche is leaning heavily on your pure look of confusion. JJ’s face feels burning red from his clunky confession. But he perseveres and takes another quick breath, preparing himself to talk up his best friend, but as JJ’s lips part, you’re talking.

“I don’t like Pope.” The two of you stare at one another. The table has never felt so wide. Shaking your head, you repeat, “I don’t like Pope. Not like that, anyway. We just have a few things in common and started talking about that book I was reading, and lost track of time and– I had no idea you even saw that.”

“Yeah, well…I did…so,” JJ mutters.

“JJ, I was looking for you all night, too,” you tell him. The smile on your face is solemn when you say, “and when I found you, you were talking to that girl. And…she’s beautiful, JJ. She seemed really nice and, of course, you’re welcome to–”

“--Didn’t you hear what I said?” JJ can’t help but cut in. You frown slightly. JJ doesn’t mean to laugh when he repeats, “I like you. Like really like you. Like holy shit what the fuck am I supposed to do like you. Like you’re all I can think about sort of like you. It’s fucking terrifying and pathetic and I know that there isn’t a chance in hell but–”

“--You like me?” you whisper. JJ laughs softly, almost under breath, and shrugs. He feels stripped off his confidence; bare without his boyish façade. This was real, genuine, organic. This was honest.

“Course. Why else would have I invited you to that damn kegger in the first place? I mean, shit, I full-on kissed you. Thought it was pretty obvious,” he says, his voice trailing off.

“I…I just thought…”

You’re in disbelief, it seems, and it makes JJ’s heart want to bleed. It’s as if you can’t fathom the fact that somebody might have an interest in you. Someone might want to care for you like you do for so many others; to be the one who helps look after your brother; who helps you study for your exams despite the fact that you’ll inevitably ace them either way; who helps you remember how to relax and let loose and just be. JJ wants to be that person. He wants to be the one that you can cry to and the one who makes you laugh. He wants to be the guy that you spend your mornings sleeping in with and your nights wide awake. He wants to make you smile and scream and moan and– All of it. JJ wants it all.

“That girl was my cousin. Well, step-half-cousin– It’s get confusing, a’right? The point is:” He takes a sharp breath before laying his hands palm down on the table. He’s determined to hold your gaze when he says, “I don’t want anybody else - not one person - but you.”

JJ’s patience has never been more impressive as he waits for you to process what he’s said. He can practically see each word working its way through that beautiful brain of yours. As the meaning sinks in, your smile finally begins to show like the first sunrise after winter. Brilliant and full of promise and hope. No more dark days, no more cold nights, no more dull mornings. Just sunshine - through and through.

“I want you too,” you confess.

His heart feels like it’s about to bust out of his chest. JJ’s not sure he’s ever smiled so hard in his life. There’s a faint worry that his skin might split from how wide his grin is. But he can’t help it. This is better than any high he’s ever had. It’s euphoric because you want him too. Despite all his misgivings, all his stupidity, all his hopelessness: you want him. And not just the version that he might be able to become, but the version he is now.

“Come over here right now,” JJ demands in a breathlessly chuckle.

The giggle that falls from your lips is adorable as you get up from your seat. JJ’s laughing too as he pushes his chair back to make space for you. You drop down onto his lap with a laugh and JJ tastes them on his tongue when he kisses you. It feels like coming home as your hands lace into his hair, pulling him nearer. The graze of your tongue against his, sensually tasting him the same way he does you, has him quietly moaning. The moment he takes your lip between his teeth, you’re whining, and it’s as sweet as syrup. His hands run down and along your thigh, fingers digging into the flesh just enough to remind himself that you’re real, this is real, and you want him too.

“You’re fuckin’ perfect,” JJ murmurs against your mouth. Your sheltered moan drives him on; JJ kisses you with new fever. The scratch of your nails against his scalp is orgasmic in itself. It’s never been like this: never has something so simple made JJ feel like he’s been brought to his knees. Pulling away, JJ stares up at you, panting lightly, and waits for you to open your eyes. Pupils blown wide, you look like an angel, the sun casting yellow behind your back. His fingers slowly lift until he’s taking the frame of your glasses in grip and easing them from your face. JJ’s never seen you without your glasses on; not up close. His lips quirk at the edges. “I think I like you more with them on.”

“Shut up,” you mutter, rolling your eyes, smiling despite your words. He makes sure not to be careless when he puts them on the table. His hands cup your face, fingers brushing over your soft skin, fuzzy like peach lining, and you lean into his touch, gazing into his eyes, and JJ thinks this. This is what true happiness is.

“What?” you ask, voice barely louder than a whisper. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothin’,” JJ smiles, losing his nerve. Nobody’s ever looked at him like that. You look at JJ like he’s somebody. “Just happy s’all.”

Your lips are slightly damp when you tilt your head enough to press a kiss to the pad of his thumb. JJ’s breath catches in his throat from the tender action. He’s serious about this. Serious about you. He’s as serious as the plague.

“Same here,” you murmur, leaning back down as if to meet his lips. Before they reunite, you let one last thing slip. “M’happy too, blue eyes.”

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somnoir · 22 days ago

Note

As a prompt Danny after he enters Gotham for any suddenly starts growing again for the first time since the portal incident and his body instead of slowly again decides to catch up all the missing years of growing at once so Danny goes from still looking 14 to suddenly having his father's height and looking his actual age.

Growing pains.... Literally

Since his death, Danny hasn't really... Grown. His parents think he's a late bloomer, that he'll grow later in life. But it's been four years since he's died and he hasn't grown a single inch in that time.

Frostbite is kind enough to tell me that... Well... He's stuck.

He's stuck in this form until something affects his physical form. Amity, even though it's considered the most haunted place in earth, doesn't have enough ambient ectoplasm for Danny. There are too many ghosts from the realm that feed of it, too many nevermores that need it to exist. Amity feeds it's ghosts but it doesn't have enough for a halfa like him.

When he moved to Gotham for the aerospace program (plus the scholarship) he doesn't expect much from it. People still question him about his age, it almost ends with him flinging his ID and birth certificate on people and cussing them out on his height.

He had even started exploring the city. There was this one cafe he found and the owner, Lily, was an absolute angel! With a shotgun. And he met a lot of people in Lily's Eden Cafe, like this weird kid that apparently dropped out of high school. Now, Danny ain't one to judge, so he's pretty okay with Tim. Except for the fact that he was so cool and smooth on a skateboard. Danny wanted one too.

Almost a week after moving, he's suffering. His body hurts, everything aches. It's as if something inside of him was trying to break out and it's making his bones strain. Everything about it hurts.

Many days passed of Danny being delirious from the pain, barely able to register what he was doing. A week and it's like he spent a coma walking around while his consciousness was asleep, practically dead by the lack of his memories.

The next time he woke up, it's been a week since he blacked out from the pain.

There's music in the background, almost familiar. The beat is something he heard Ember compose before his eighteenth birthday, then it was practically blasted through our the Ghost Zone when the day actually came.

"Shhh! Turn that racket down!"

"Hell nah! He likes it, see?"

"The little king seems.... To......change... Gotham..."

His eyes snapped open, gasping when he saw multiple pairs of eyes looking down at him.

"He's alive!"

Danny's instincts took over in that second and he's sending a blast of ecto towards the sudden scream. More screaming. Too much screaming. His head hurt.

"Holy shit, baby pop!"

He takes a moment before he's recognizing Ember... And the hole on his wall... And his glowing hand. Shit.

"Woah, woah! Calm down."

In Danny's confused state, he could barely register Kitty and Johnny in the room. Oh, and Shadow too. But still...

"I— What happened?" He groaned, blinking slowly. "WHAT THE FUCK?!"

His voice... OH MY GOD HIS VOICE! Why was it so deep?! What was wrong with his voice? Did he have a cold or something? Or maybe it's just his morning voice—

"Congrats on your dawning!" Johnny congratulated, grinning like a madman.

"What?" ooh, that was weird, "What the heck is an dawning?"

"Ooh, baby pop!" Ember cooed, "Forgot that our little king is still pretty new to being all ghost. C'mon now, baby. Mama Ember will teach you all about ghost puberty."

"GHOST WHAT?!"

Ghost puberty was a thing apparently. He had hauled himself into the Far Frozen after yelling at the four ghosts to steal him some clothes that would actually fit him. Because his entire body felt wrong... So wrong.

He was taller now. Having shot up from 5'4" to a whopping 6'2". Everything still hurt and now all his clothes didn't even fit! Nothing looked right when he'd looked at the mirror. He was almost as tall a shis dad now—he looked almost exactly like his dad now actually. It was almost terrifying how much he resembled his dad. If he went to visit now, he's sure that his mother would have a heart attack from how quickly he had grown.

"Frostbite!" Danny practically growled and oooh... Yeah, now it sounded differently to whenever he'd end up snarling. The deepness of his voice almost intimidated him.

"Great one!" The yeti greeted, looking utterly ecstatic to see him. "Ah, I see you've finished your dawning. I offer my sincerest congrats, your majesty."

"Yeah, yeah. The fuck is a Dawning?"

Frostbite blinked, before his expression morphed into a grim one. "Oh dear... I had thought that the Observants would have deigned to explain this too you upon your coronation... Well, let us sit then, great one. This will be a long one."

To summarize it all, Ghost puberty.

A Dawning was a time every ghost went through, so long as there was enough ambient ectoplasm around them to help their forms morph into their preferred appearances. Usually, a ghosts appearance to their own mentality. Their maturity.

Apparently, Young Blood already went through a Dawning but remained in his child-like form due to his own mental age. He was a child in heart, mind, soul, and body.

Meanwhile... Danny who was still alive yet also dead, had followed on with his mental maturity. His body morphed, it changed, it adapted to how he saw himself, how he desperately wanted to become deep down in his core.

And this Danny Fenton was a 6'2" giant trying to control all his limbs that were suddenly too long, too heavy. Everything felt strange....

Tim Drake's favorite cafe was known for being neutral ground for both rogues and vigilantes. You don't fuck around Lilian's cafe or else she'll pull out a rifle and shoot you dead. So if course, Tim fucking loved the place.

Actually, many people frequented it.

He's familiarised himself with the faces of a lot of people by then. Even that scrawny new kid that arrived three weeks ago. Tim remembers Danny for how enthusiastic he was about going to collage, not even minding the madness of Gotham itself. It was like he thrived in it.

He waves at Lilian after ordering his usual, taking a seat in the corner before he's whipping out his laptop. Duke and Steph arrive soon after, immediately ordering before going off to join Tim.

Mundane things, something they all seemed to appreciate more.

The bell rings, more customers arrive and—

"Danny! Holy hell, what happened?"

Tim paused, immediately snapping his eyes towards— WHAT THE FUCK?!

Steph whistled, "Hot damn..."

Danny Fenton was a scrawny young man, shorter than Tim. Even more slim.

But whoever the hell entered the cafe was 6'2", almost as muscled as Jason, and slouching like Clark—as if he was in the wrong body. He almost dropped his drink if not for Duke gently guiding his hand down.

"Hey, Lils..."

God, what the fuck was that? What was happening? Who the hell was this awkward adonis with a voice as deep as the fucking ocean?

"Tim?" Duke waved his hand over his eyes, "Timothy? Timbers?"

"Duke, leave him alone. He's gone, never coming back." Steph snickered, shaking her head before her eyes went back to Danny, who was stuttering as he tried to order what he wanted. "But damn if I wouldn't act the same. Shoot your shot—"

Shoot his fucking shot he did.

"Hey Danny..." Tim slid up to him with a smile.

Danny blinked—woah was he tall and practically built like a fucking fridge—before his eyes brightened and a smile joined his expression.

"Hi Tim!"

Was this how Bruce felt like when he saw Clark?

Masterpost

#tw: depictions of body dysmorphia #dpxdc #Growing pains.... Literally #dc x dp #danny phantom #danny fenton #crossover #tim drake #red robin #dead tired #Danny gets a growths spurt and gets to be as tall as his dad #my bou went hime for Thanksgiving and managed to rival his dad in his bear hugs #Tim thought the twink was cute but then the twink got red hood's build #Timothy “Dated 2 girls as a vigilante and civilian” Drake knows hiw to flirt #Danny's going through shit with ghost puberty #the music ember was blasting through hus coma was legit just the theme song of DP

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tastesousweet · 7 months ago

Text

⭒ blurb : podcasting

bf!hamzah x poc!reader

summary: based on this ask!!! little blurb of the times you pop up on the ooc podcast

mickey speaks: this was so funny to write!!! also i need to be hamzah's gf yesterday bitch

─────────── · · ୨୧ · · ───────────

hamzah having you in an episode with mandy and martin

“oh wow this couch gets kinda tight when four people are squeezed on here” hamzah says while adjusting a few pillows

“yeah,” martin starts before addressing the audience, “and, well, you’re probably wondering ‘who the heck is that?!’” he gestures his hand over to you, beside hamzah with your legs folded and knees lying against his thigh

you can’t help but smile as hamzah introduces you, “and, yeah, believe it or not i have a girlfriend.”

“i’m right next to you so i’d hope they believe it” give a soft giggle

“only hamzah would announce he has a girlfriend with ‘believe it or not’” mandy adds and hamzah throws a hand up in the air in defeat

★

martin: “i can’t help but think this feels like in middle school when people were just group dating all the time”

hamzah: “was group dating that common? i don’t remember that”

you: “i remember certain friend groups at my school doing that but i definitely wasn't participating”

mandy: “this isn’t really a group though martin, more like a double date? there’s four of us”

martin: "it's not all about numbers mandy sometimes there's just a vibe"

★

martin: “but you two have been dropping hints about dating for a while now”

you: “yeah, we’ve been doing a little soft launching here and there”

martin: “i like that term a lot actually”

mandy: “i think it’s cute, but i've seen a lot of people online that don't use it properly”

you: "i agreeeee, like you didn't soft launch by posting the back of his head if we already saw the front of it a week ago- we know who he is!!! there is no mystery"

martin: "oh so the appeal is the mystery... almost like scooby doo?"

hamzah, nodding his head: "mhm... exactly"

you: "it's always two dumb bitches telling each other-"

you and hamzah together: "exactlyyyyy"

martin looks over to mandy as the two of you laugh: "oh come on this is their first episode together and look at them mandy! we have to be cuter, come on. lock in."

hamzah: "hey no need to be jealous, my friend."

hamzah pats martins thigh

mandy: "so what was that right there?"

hamzah: "you wouldn't understand..."

martin: "no but seriously mandy you never soft launched me- only hard"

mandy: "there was no need to??? next time i'll do it i guess"

you, laughing: "next time???"

hamzah is sat in thought for an extra second before he replies to martin, making them both laugh

hamzah: “okay martin you said like that term so much? boy, now imma soft launch these nuts in your mouth”

you: "and i know you were thinking on that joke for a minute"

martin, through laughs: “okay, okay, enough”

hamzah, wiping his eyes: “well, now the jig is up. you know it's all aired out and public”

martin: “yeah... a hard launch on the podcast, that’s crazy bro”

you and mandy, mocking: “that’s craaazzyy brooo”

★

hamzah answering your call during a podcast

martin: “hamzah whenever you buy clothes from the store or get it shipped in the mail always wash your clothes!”

hamzah: “i do wash my clothes but if it’s new that doesn’t make any sense”

martin: “so you’re just gonna open it up and put it on?”

hamzah: “yes!”

hamzah’s phone starts ringing

martin: “and wow. now look who’s breaking the phone rule!”

hamzah: “stop shhh. it’s y/n”

he answers, hamzah: “hey what’s up?”

you see the mic in his hand and widen your eyes, you: “oh shit, i’m sorry to interrupt”

hamzah: “it’s okay i have something to ask you now anyway.”

you: "okayy.. do you wanna go first or me?"

hamzah: "you go ahead"

you: "okay quick- is this business casual enough for an event tonight?"

hamzah: "nobody is doing business lookin' that hot, you can't be serious"

you: "kay thanks"

hamzah, jokes: "you are not anyone's office siren, girl"

you: "i'm gonna hang up"

hamzah: "no!!! i need to ask if you wash your clothes after you buy them."

you: "if they smell like stale water and factory chemicals, yes"

hamzah: "martin is educating me on the importance of this unimportant thing right now."

you: "and you should listen to him, stinky"

martin: "thank you!"

hamzah: "oh nahhh, now i'm gonna hang up"

you: "mkayy bye, sorry for interrupting! bye martin!!!"

martin: "byee"

★

you drop something off at the warehouse studio while they’re filming

hamzah: "what was that noise?"

martin: "i don't know..."

hamzah: "it sounds like someone's actually trying to break in, what?"

martin: "were you expecting company?"

hamzah: "no, were you?"

martin: "no...i mean let's ask the audience"

martin turns to the camera, concerned

hamzah: "okay i'm actually about to go check. this is weird."

it cuts to a clip of hamzah sat again and you peeking your head in the frame to wave

hamzah: "nevermind. it was just my sweet girlfriend bringing us lunch, sorry if that scared you guys."

martin: "should we make like a super artifical thumbnail for clickbait? somethin' like; 'someone tried to kidnap us in our studio!'

hamzah: "no"

★

they have a trolling episode where you and mandy both sub in and act as martin and hamzah for an entire episode

mandy: "you know i find it crazy how we manage to talk about nothing for an entire hour"

you: "this is the talent people expect from us bro! and if we ever get too boring we can always discuss the state of sabrina and barry's relationship."

mandy: "true. and don't make fun of me but everytime man-crush monday comes around i'm always picking barry..."

you: "well if i can't make fun of you then i'll just stay quiet for your sake."

taglist -★ (some of u didn't ask to be tagged but have frequently liked my hamzah content lol, just lmk if you'd prefer not to be tagged!!!)

@sirenedeslily @333michelle @thatmartinkitten @@maybankfr @imsosillygoofylol @certainfestivalnerdshepherd

#slushynoobz #slushy noobz #slushy noobz virus #slushy virus #hamzahthefantastic x reader #hamzah x y/n #hamzahthefantastic #hamzah x reader #hamzah #thatmartinkid #martin and hamzah

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katyawriteswhump · 2 months ago

Text

steddie microfic: guard your heart

For @steddiemicrofic November prompt, Guard, 532 words.

Rating: T Tags: idiots to lovers. no upside down au. CW: drug use.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

“Remember Claudette?” Steve passed the beer can to Eddie, who sat beside him on the couch in the trailer. “Started High School with you? Graduated a billion years sooner?”

“You’re hilarious,” Eddie bitched, fixating on Steve’s wet lips.

“We dated last year, and she’s invited me to Indianapolis. I, uh… need a fake ID?”

Eddie discarded the beer, taste souring. Sharing their final can had become a nightly ritual, and now Steve gazed at Eddie with huge, questioning eyes that seemed to scour the depths of Eddie’s soul:

What the fuck do you want me to say, Harrington?

Three weeks ago, Steve arrived picking a fight over Eddie pushing drugs to ‘his’ kids. Eddie truthfully vowed that he didn’t sell to Hellfire Club—or anybody he actually liked—and promptly sold Steve weed. They’d giggled the night away. Next visit, they’d drunkenly kissed. When Wayne got back from night-shift, Eddie reassured him he wasn’t exactly a fan of Steve. Who was asleep in Eddie’s bed.

Naked.

And Eddie didn’t like Steve. Much. Besides, Steve was driving to fucking Indianapolis to have sex with some girl.

When Steve showed up for the fake ID, he sulkily shoved it straight in a pocket. Eddie flipped the bird at the retreating BMW and slunk back inside.

…

Steve had a shitty night.

Claudette basically invited him to make some guy jealous. Or possibly, for her friends to laugh at. Then the bartender noticed Steve’s ID.

Date-of-birth on it wasn’t 1965, as requested. It read… 1945.

The security guard escorted him out. Claudette’s other boyfriend followed for a one-sided brawl before disappearing back into the bar.

Steve sat on the curb, ears buzzing, head throbbing. He’d watched Eddie flip the bird in the rear-view mirror, shoulders hunched, looking as miserable and dejected as Steve had been since they parted.

What the heck was he doing here?

…

At 6am, Steve’s hammering on the door woke Eddie. Steve looked dog-tired, hair feral, and with one screamer of a black eye. Eddie’s heart panged. “What hap—"

“It’ll wait.” Steve waved the ID. “Apparently, I don’t look 41.”

“Christ, Ric’s losing it. I’ll get your ten dollars back.”

Steve shoved by, plonking himself down on the couch. “Don’t want it,” he mumbled, head in hands. “Glad I wasn’t buzzed. I drove all night to get back to you.”

Eddie’s nerves were sure-as-heck buzzing: “Why?”

Steve sighed, peeped up. “Look, I think I only went to make you jealous. I was confused. I’m sorry, but if you don’t want—"

Eddie was besides Steve in a flash, pulling him into his arms. Then they were making out like their lives depended on it.

“Oh, I want.” Eddie took Steve’s bruised face in his hands. “I thought you were fooling around, nothing more. I was… guarding my heart, I guess.” Eddie pulled a dumb face. Steve hitched his lip:

“Me too. Didn’t work, did it?”

“Let’s make this work, huh?” Eddie pressed his brow to Steve’s. Steve hissed. “Sorry. I’ll grab you some ice.”

When Wayne arrived, Steve lay with his head in Eddie’s lap, snoozing lightly. “Not a fan?” asked Wayne.

Eddie smiled, stroking Steve’s soft hair, which felt warm as his heart.

❤️❤️❤️❤️

tags: @wheneverfeasible <3 My fic on A03

#steddie microfic #steddiemicroficnovember #steddiemicrofic #steddie #steve x eddie #idiots in love #steve harrington #eddie munson #steddie fic #steve harrington whump #steddie fanfic #steve harrington x eddie munson

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aestherin · 5 months ago

Text

KEEP MY HEART

goal 36: can i call?

NOTE: classes start tomorrow 😔💔

Your eyes drifted away from the movie both of you were watching when you felt your boyfriend shift.

"Kuni?"

"Oh sorry." He looked back upon hearing your voice. You just noticed that he was about to get something from his black bag. "Did I bother you?"

You shook your head profusely. "No, not at all! I was just wondering what you were—" You focused your eyes on his hands that were hidden inside the bag. "— up to?"

Scaramouche did not spare a single moment. As he took something out, your ears were enveloped by the sound of plastic material ruffling against each other.

He handed you what seemed like a folded piece of dark blue clothing packed inside a plastic sleeve.

"Is this for me?"

"Idiot. Why else would I give it to you?"

"I just didn't want to assume, okay?!"

"Can I open it now?"

He gave a nod of approval.

More ruffling of plastic can be heard as you started to take the clothing out. It was dri-fit, made from microfiber polyester — the common material used to make jerseys for the athletes that you know. Even your brother has jerseys like these.

Wait, a jersey?

"Oh my god, Kuni!"

Satisfied with your reaction, Scaramouche smirked. "That's not just a merch, too. It's one of my own official jerseys."

"What the heck?!" You yelped. You held the jersey up and turned it around. It indeed displayed his surname and player number at the back. You gripped the clothing even more tightly. "Are you sure I can have this?"

"Of course. My mom said so too."

"Really?"

"Mhm, she really likes you."

"Woah."

"Not more than I like you, though," he grinned.

You coughed and smacked his arm lightly. "Shut up."

"Okay okay, calm down." He raised both his hands up. "Ah. Also, she gave me tickets for you."

Your brows furrowed. "Tickets?"

"The soccer finals for this season. We're against your school, remember?"

"Huh?! That's coming up so soon, what?! Hold on?!"

"Yeah, stupid." He flicked your forehead lightly before comfortably leaning against the backrest, both his arms supporting his head.

Not gonna lie, he looked so attractive sitting like that.

Wait, no.

The finals is that soon?

Oh, God.

You told your brother you'd introduce your boyfriend to him after the game!

How many weeks from now is that? Wait, is it even a week or just days —

"So..." Your boyfriend's voice pulled you out from your spacing out session. "Who are you cheering for?" He smirked.

"Uh... can't I do for both? Hehe."

Scaramouche quickly took a look at his lockscreen. The huge white text at the top currently displayed '21:54'. Your brother hasn't arrived home yet.

"Kuni, it's getting late. Aren't you going to head home?" You asked him as you busied yourself with playing with Vivi on the rug.

Yeah, it's getting late and your brother still isn't home. How is he supposed to leave when you're going to be left home alone?

"What time is your brother supposed to get home?" He asked you.

"Venti and Xiao are drinking out with my brother. And, given Venti's alcohol tolerance, they might end late," you chuckled.

He sighed in return.

You gasped.

"Hold on, are you still not heading home because you're worried about me?"

Your boyfriend huffed and looked away. "Who told you that?"

"My instincts," you smiled. "Don't worry, okay? I'll be fine. Both me and my brother are used to being alone all the time since we also sometimes sleep at our friends' houses."

"You should start heading home now while it's not that late yet. Your mother might also be worried now."

"Are you sure you'll be fine?"

"Yes, I promise."

"Okay. I'll text you when I get home."

KEEP MY HEART — scara x reader smau

previous . masterlist . next

TAGLIST I (closed)

@kararisa @krnzysh @syriiina @your-kuya-pogi @xiaosonlybeloved @xiaomainlmao @cindywasneverhere @coquettemaiden @sunsethw4 @lunavixia @calickoh @arealistonao3 @youthingazi @zyilas @mondaymelon @yukiipc @heartswonder @st0pthatsgay @ozzierenato @astreaa-express @shewolfmiko @lovelyycherries @myaaones @countessqin @aloveablechaos @letthewindlead @lunaavity @local-blueberry-boy @luminestars @layla240 @useless-potatho @atlaszi @alatusorrow @lahsram2201 @sakiimeo @user11918163805279 @vqazx @neigesprincess @kunicrush @yoursockstinks @hotgirlshit5 @mikctp @crucnhice @apotatouwu @yuaenri @sammybeefangirls @miko1ly @deffenferofjustice @etherisy @sagegreenthinks

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clarii · 26 days ago

Text

The Promposal

Summary: Steve’s older sister is looking forward to her senior prom, but when her date backs out at the last minute, Eddie steps up and offers to take her.

Pairing: Eddie Munson x Harrington!reader

Warning: Fluff, so cute

Author's Note: Thank you for all of the love for my other published stories. I appreciate it so much. Pretend that Steve is a junior.

Y/N= Your Name

It was a crisp spring afternoon when Steve’s older sister, Y/N, found herself sitting on the porch, staring at the invitation to her senior prom. The event was only a week away, but her date, Jason, had just called the house to cancel. He'd come up with some half-baked excuse about family obligations, and Y/N knew it was just his way of backing out. She felt a knot tighten in her chest. Prom was supposed to be a magical night, something she'd dreamed of for years, but now it felt like an impossible dream.

Her younger brother, Steve, was in the living room, playing video games with his best friend Eddie when Y/N came back inside. She slung the invitation on the counter with a frustrated sigh, and Steve noticed immediately.

"What's up?" he asked, pausing his game and glancing over at her.

She didn’t want to make a big deal out of it, but her disappointment was too heavy to ignore. "Jason bailed on me. He can't go to prom anymore."

Steve raised an eyebrow. "Dude, that sucks. Are you still going?"

Y/N shrugged. "I don't know. Maybe I'll just go with a group of friends. It won't be the same, though."

"You should totally go," Steve said. "Prom is like… the thing. I mean, it’s like, legendary."

She chuckled. "Yeah, I know. It's just… really disappointing."

Eddie, who had been sitting quietly beside Steve, looked over at her, his mischievous grin fading into something a little more thoughtful. He was tall with a scruffy look—dark hair, casual clothes, and a slightly offbeat way about him. He'd always been the goofy friend, the one who made jokes and did silly impressions to make everyone laugh. He was Steve's best friend, but recently, Y/N had begun to notice him in a different way. He was charming in his own awkward way, and there was something endearing about the way he cared about his friends.

Without thinking, Eddie suddenly stood up. "Hey, what if I take you?" he said, his voice so casual that Y/N initially thought he was joking. But when she glanced at him, his earnest expression made her pause.

"What?" she asked, unsure if she’d heard him correctly.

Eddie scratched the back of his neck nervously. "I mean, I’m not doing anything else that night. And, you know, you shouldn't miss prom just because your date bailed."

Her mouth dropped open, her mind racing. "Wait, you’re serious?"

"Yeah," he said, nodding, though his tone carried an uncertainty that softened his offer. "I know it’s last minute, but I’ll do a promposal or whatever the heck it is that you want. It’ll be fun, I promise."

Y/N blinked. Eddie? Taking her to prom? The thought was absurd, and yet, the more she thought about it, the more it felt… right. She'd known him for years. He was Steve’s best friend, but there was something else about him. And suddenly, she was wondering if she’d missed out on something all along.

"You're serious?" she repeated.

"Yeah. Totally." Eddie grinned, though it was a little sheepish. "You don't have to say yes. Just… think about it."

That night, Y/N couldn't sleep. She tossed and turned, her mind a whirlwind of thoughts. Eddie was funny, sweet in his own weird way, and incredibly down-to-earth. She had always been able to count on him when things got tough, but now—she wasn’t sure when it happened—he’d started to grow on her in a way she didn’t expect.

The next day, she found herself at school, still thinking over Eddie’s unexpected offer. She saw him in the hallway, talking with Steve, his face lighting up with one of his signature goofy smiles. When their eyes met, she couldn't help but smile back. Eddie’s warmth was undeniable, and despite how odd it seemed, she felt a flutter of something in her chest. Was it really that bad of an idea?

That afternoon, Y/N decided to talk to him. She found Eddie sitting on the steps outside the school building, writing in his notebook. Taking a deep breath, she walked over to him.

"Okay, Eddie," she started, her voice nervous but determined. "I’ve thought about it… and I would like to go to prom with you."

Eddie’s head snapped up, his eyes wide in surprise. "Wait, really? You’re serious?"

"Yeah," she said, laughing at the disbelief in his voice. "You’re a pain in the butt, but you might just be the best prom date I could have."

Eddie’s grin spread across his face, and he jumped up, nearly knocking over his notebook in the process. "Yes!" he shouted, pumping his fist in the air. "You won’t regret this. I swear, I’m the best prom date you’ll ever have!"

True to his word, Eddie went all out for the promposal. It was one of the most unexpected and sweet things Y/N had ever seen. On the day before prom, Eddie showed up at her house with a giant cardboard sign that read, “Prom? Let’s Make It Legendary". He stood in front of her with the biggest grin, holding a bouquet of her favorite flowers—lilies—almost too nervous to speak.

“Um, I didn’t know if I was supposed to get down on one knee or…?” Eddie trailed off, looking at her with wide eyes.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, her heart swelling with affection for the goofy, endearing guy in front of her. "You really went all out, huh?"

"Of course," Eddie said, trying to act casual but clearly thrilled. "It’s prom. Plus, anything for you."

She stepped forward, her eyes softening as she looked at him. "You’re amazing, Eddie. I’m really glad you asked."

And just like that, everything changed. The night of prom was more magical than Y/N had ever imagined. Eddie, in his mismatched tuxedo (he claimed it was "vintage"), was the perfect mix of awkward and charming. He made her laugh all night, from his goofy dance moves to his humorous commentary on every prom tradition. But there was something deeper beneath his jokes—he was genuinely attentive, making sure she was having the best time.

As the night went on, Y/N found herself looking at Eddie, really looking at him. His way of always making her feel comfortable, and his unexpected sweetness had won her over in ways she hadn’t anticipated. He wasn’t just Steve’s best friend anymore. He was Eddie, the guy who had turned her prom night into something she would never forget.

They ended the night by walking outside under the stars, just the two of them. Y/N felt a warmth in her chest that had nothing to do with the chilly evening air. Eddie, hands in his pockets, looked over at her with a grin.

"You know, this night went way better than I thought it would," Eddie said, his voice quieter now. "Not that I didn’t expect it to be fun, but… I don’t know. It’s been… really great."

Y/N smiled softly. "Yeah, it really has."

She paused, feeling something shift in her heart. Without thinking, she reached out and grabbed Eddie’s hand, her fingers intertwining with his. He looked down at their hands, then up at her, his eyes wide with surprise and something else—something more tender.

"Eddie," she said softly, her voice barely above a whisper, "I think… I think I’ve been waiting for you all along. I always pictured prom with the most amazing guy that would treat me like a princess. I.... I was looking at the wrong places, it turns out it was my brother's best friend who always came to visit us."

His breath caught in his throat, and for a moment, the world around them seemed to disappear. Eddie leaned down slightly, as if to make sure he wasn’t imagining it, and then he smiled, a smile that made her heart race.

"I think I’ve been waiting for you too," he said, before leaning in and pressing a soft, sweet kiss to her lips.

It was everything she had been hoping for, everything she didn’t know she needed, all wrapped up in the most unexpected, perfect night. Eddie was the guy who had turned her prom night into something unforgettable. The same guy who from that day made her feel like a princess with her own prince charming.

#eddie munson x you #eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things x reader #stranger things x y/n #stranger things #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x f!reader #steve harrington #eddie munson fluff #eddie munson x harrington!reader #Stranger things x reader #stranger things imagine #stranger things fanfiction

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pcheyes · 1 year ago

Text

the music god from your pre calculus class

pairing: anton x fem reader

genre: fluff, strangers to friends ??

warnings: none

synopsis: the person who sits in your seat before you always puts music recommendations in the calculator, and you’re dying to know who it is

word count: 638

song suggestions: somethin stupid-frank sinatra

you walked into your pre calculus class and sat down. immediately you notice the calculator.

it isnt a fancy calculator, its just a school provided one, with a creepy eye drawing in the back. but everyday someone in the class before you types a song recommendation.

COME THRU-H.E.R.

everyday you try and get to class early to find the elusive person with the really good music taste, but you never catch them. you ask around for who sits there but they all laugh and walk away. you pull out your phone and go to spotify to add yet another song to your playlist called “randos music recommendations”. the playlist ranged from rnb, classical, jazz, to kpop. you continue the class trying to take notes but your mind wanders so you listen to his song from yesterday

FEATHER-SABRINA CARPENTER

‘who’s this person who leaves these songs?’

‘are they hot?’

‘what if im hallucinating all these songs?’

the bell rings and you walk to your next class, listening to the new song.

⊹☾⋆⁺₊🎧✩°｡

today you were determined.

and you had a plan

you would fake sick to get a pass to the nurses office before your calculus class, and you would creep towards the room and look in to see who sits there. the time came to fake cramps to go to the nurses office and when you did you made a beeline to the calculus class. theres a window peaking into the class so you decided to watch from there. you scope the classroom to find your seat and the mysterious music god who blesses you every day.

and when you do.

oh god you almost slipped from the stool you were standing on because he was beautiful. he had his headphones on and was working on the problem. the class period was ending so he started typing his song recommendation for the day. his friends came over and started talking to him.

“dude are you ever gonna face her? these song thingies were sweet at first but its getting sad. you always relace your shoes and stretch so you can get out before she comes. i’ve been saying i dont know you for a solid week now” his friend said as he scoffed “sohee what the heck!” the headphone boy said (you had named him that once you saw his headphones) “what ever. i need a headstart, i think i heard her friends say shes sprinting to calc today. i cant take any chances.” he starts stretching and relacing his shoes. the bell rings and he runs out the class. you grab your bag and run after him. he ends off at the orchestra hall and you yank him by his backpack. he yelps and locks eyes with you.

“i finally found you, you music god!” you say out of breath.

he laughs “oh goody!”

“dude who the hell says oh goody”

“sorry” he says. “look i’m late for my orchestra practice so could you just uh, god you’re really pretty, look at the calculator and call it a day”

you pull out a market and motion for him to stick out his forearm. he gives it to you and you write your number on his forearm.

“make sure to send all your song recommendations to me. my ears are blessed after your beautiful songs or something.” his cheeks turn a deep scarlet. “oh uh yeah sure sure i’ll send it to you totally.” you nod and start walking away. suddenly he shouts after you “your hair looks really pretty today! not that it doesnt look pretty every day, i just like the slick back in the front, with the little curls in the front. it frames your face really well. makes you look extra beautiful.” you smile back at him.

“thanks music boy”

authors note: we need to bring back loser anton, he hasnt been his loser self since love 119. but i actually do this everyday in maths class and someone caught me leaving the class late and screamed “ITS THE MUSIC GIRL !!” but thanks to @chlorinecake and @kairoot for the songs !!

taglist: @unikivrse msg or comment to be added

feedback, reblogs, and comments are greatly appreciated

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sakumz · 8 months ago

Text

-------------------------------------------------------

[ m. orter x fem reader ]

-------------------------------------------------------

" why does it feel like I've caught you in some sort of affair? its unusual for a visionary to still be in this school, so late at night, hm? " your voice was stern and threatening though still slightly curious.

orter was leaving after his quick dinner with margaret, that he won't tell anyone of. you're one of the teachers in this school. known for having great foresight. he had heard countless rumours about you. they said you used to be an assassin, having killed a few witches or maybe a spy for an enemy organisation waiting to overthrow the visionaries and the government. they said you had power strong enough to actually be part of the visionary. hearing all that, he had to be cautious around you.

" well isn't it strange for a teacher to still be in the school, after 7? " he replied as you quirk a brow.

" I'm clocking out and this is the earliest time of the week that I'm clocking out. I've worked countless overtime. mainly to help students write their report for any troubles they've cause, marking papers and such. " you state matter of fact, rendering the man speechless for a moment.

" I see, have a lovely night then. " he turns to walk away, before moving too far away. you open your mouth to speak one last thing, " don't try to do anything to stop mash from taking the exam. especially using a student of the school to- "

as he turned around, you were gone. how did you even know he was going to stop mash. he tossed and turned in his sleep, that night. well you're a teacher, you'll most likely be at the stadium. he can always put you in jail and question you, he can also question you later on.

at the stadium, he wasn't expecting you to stand next to walhberg. kaldo on his other side. he wonders what the two of you could possibly be talking about, seeing the dumb smile on kaldo and you laughing at the man. was he that funny? heck, he can see the tears on your eyes. WAS HE SO FUNNY?

" are you seeing anyone as of late, ms l/n? " walhberg starts, feeling your face burn up a little, kaldo couldn't help but laugh at you.

" w-whats it to you, mr walhberg! I have no interest right now, and I'm very busy! " you scold.

orter wonders what the conversation was, seeing you turn red and kaldo laughing at you embarrassed self, walhberg was smiling too. WHO'S FUNNY NOW? he wanted to painfully rip someone's head off. it's not his business but he too wants to know. how come both of them, aren't so cautious around you. did they not cared for such rumours? what about you, are you trying to prove that such rumours weren't even true?

after the whole fiasco of innocent zero showing up, the exam was over. everyone was slowly leaving. you, kaldo, orter and the light cane remained. discussing the attack.

" ms l/n, I didn't get to see you fight today but I've heard countless rumours. care to fill me in about you? " ryoh starts, as yall made your way out of the stadium.

" oh those rumours are true. I'm a witch assassin and I'm working for a secret organisation to overthrow the idiotic government and visionaries, " the three were stunned to hear your confession.

" I don't buy it, " orter says as he walks past the three.

" if its true and you ever try to do anything funny. mark my words, I'll stop you singlehandedly. "

" he likes you, y/n. " kaldo whispers in your ear before rushing off somewhere.

surely that wasn't the last he's seen you. you're even dropping by their office, as if you worked here! it's mainly to drop off reports and to check in on lance and dot, hearing they're being trained by orter.

upon hearing his training methods, you can't help but sit and watch. of course cheering your lovely students on and cursing at orter. he tried challenging you to that particular training only to be surprised at how easy you dodge his attacks with your smoke magic.

maybe both of you were meant to be, having similar magic skills. slowly but surely your presence is everywhere. the man didn't even realise he was falling.

" say do you like l/n-sensei? " dot questions as they take a quick short break from training.

the sudden question making orter stop wiping his glasses to stare at him, stupidly.

" a man has been trying to court her, the past few days. she said she's close to accepting his proposal, " lance spoke.

" I see, trainings over for now. " orter rushes out, making his way to your office at Easton.

" what brings you here, dear madl? " you swirl in your chair to face him.

" you're getting married? " you couldn't help but burst out laughing at his dumbfounded expression as he only glared at you in return.

" n-no, just thinking about it. " you wipe the tears from your eyes, staring back at his face.

" then marry me not him. I'll treat you way better, " he walks closer to your table, grabbing a few locks of your hair to plant a kiss.

such simple actions, made your heart go doki doki.

#sakumz.pdf #orter madl x reader #orter x reader #mashle x reader

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mieldreams · 13 days ago

Text

A Very Cherry Christmas

Summary: A cherry incident that leads to a sweet surprise.

(pt two of A Very Berry Christmas)

pairing: single dad!Anakin x single nurse!reader

warnings: flour galore. and fluff. and a liiittle bit of angst, ft. cursed snowmen.

word count: ~4.6k

a/n: really this is just filler with some fluff and angst but I promise the next one is more fun.

Much to your disappointment, you don’t see the little family for the whole week with work keeping you busy. Seriously why did people’s urges to do dumb shit increase so much more during the holidays? Putting up lights on the roof right after it had snowed – who do you think you are? spiderman? And who the heck stores white paint in maison jars and then proceeds to put it in the pantry? Do you not smell anything before you consume it? And why would anyone ever try to open a gift with a freaking axe, did grandpa just wrap the Christmas tree as a present itself?

You did however have brief interactions with the twins – usually on days when your work shift and their school time coincided. Some days their father was with them and he’d give a single nod of acknowledgment in your direction, and other days they were with that same tan woman with the white hair. The first two days she’d looked curiously in your direction when the twins enthusiastically waved at you across the parking lot, but by the third time she’d given you a small smile in greeting as well.

But the lack of run-ins with the family didn’t keep your mind from drifting to the pretty stranger with the kids. Well, guess he wasn’t that much of a stranger now. You weren’t exactly proud to admit but the handsome man from down the hall had popped up in your thoughts more than you thought appropriate, he was a father after all. But weren’t dilfs the latest hot trend?

Well, at least that's what your best friend told you when you mentioned the events of the previous night at your next shift. She had taken one look at the half-assed bun on your head, the drooping eyebags and the too-large cup of coffee before her dull expression shifted.

"Oh. my. god. You have your cursed happy snowman sweater on."

You had given her an incredulous look, laughing as you gathered your scrubs to change into, "What are you talking about?"

You look down at the oversized white sweater with a snowman face on it. You had gotten it on sale and maybe the slightly crooked smile that made your snowman look a little psychotic had something to do with it, but you thought he was cute, so whatever. "And he is not cursed. Just a little misaligned."

She took a sip of her own coffee while pointing at your torso with a challenging brow, "Whatever you say. But you only wear it whenever something nice or lucky happens. And considering Melanie still hasn't been run over by Santa's sleigh Regina George-style," She turned her head to glare at the dark-haired woman who was scolding the new intern about how 'just because it's Christmas doesn't mean you get to bring all this clown stuff to the hospital. This is a professional setting. Do you think any patient will take you seriously with this stuff?'"

A water bottle. A green and red Christmas-themed water bottle is what she was talking about. The two of you sent another glare in her direction before your best friend continued, "I figured it must be something at home."

Her head suddenly snapped to you, eyes widening in excitement, clicking her fingers to point at you, "Wait! Did you get lucky last night?" She wiggles her brows suggestively.

You gave her a smirk in return, "Very."

"Shut up. Tell me!"

You walked into the changing stall and turned around to face her with a smile, "I actually managed to go to bed before 12 yesterday, well sort of."

"Oh, boo!"

You laughed as you closed the door and started changing into your uniform.

"I said fun as in 'young, wild and free' fun, not 'old lady with back pain' fun."

You shouted over the door, "But I am an old lady with back pain."

You heard your best friend sigh dramatically, "Aren't we all?" But her tone shifts and she's quick to ask you another question, "Wait— what do you mean sort of?"

That's when you told her about last night's events. Well, as much as you could before one of the senior nurses called you to discuss a patient. You left with the promise to tell your best friend more at the end of the shift when the two of you can go out for drinks together now that it's the weekend.

You step out of the stall, turning around to walk backwards, "Oh in return, I heard there's going to be a surprise Christmas mini-parade in the hospital. You know the whole singing, decorating and all that. They're looking for volunteers."

The two of you glanced at Melanie again who was now screaming at another young nurse before your best friend turned to give you a devious smirk, "Oh, I know someone who loves singing and decorating…"

You winked at her before turning on your heel to walk out of the locker room.

There had been an unexpected blizzard later that evening yet the bar had been crowded, nothing surprising considering the holiday season. Your best friend poked and prodded at you for more information on Anakin but every time you only shrugged and told her the same thing, "I only met him properly yesterday, that too in my pyjamas. What do you expect me to know, his parent's address?"

She rolled her eyes, "Of course not. But you said he had a pretty face, so what? Is the seat taken or…?"

You laughed as you scolded her, "He has kids. I don't think any man as gorgeous as that would still be tending to his garden alone." You raised your brows at her in a 'if you know what I mean' way before taking another sip of your drink.

The night continued with more drinks flowing in spirit of the holidays (really it was just an excuse to get drunk but you deserved to let loose after working your ass off the past week) and the two of you definitely had your fun. When the night ended, she dropped you off but not without another teasing smile from the back seat, speaking up before you could shut the door.

"Tell hi to your holiday hunk for me." She winked and you laughed, shaking your head in dismissal as you closed the door.

"It's icy on the roads, get home safe. Text me when you reach."

You spoke just loud enough that the driver would hear you, he better know that you're keeping track of your best friend's location.

She wished you a good night just as the taxi pulled away and then drunkenly waived out of the window in the back as the car took a right.

You sighed as you watched the car drive out of sight, only then did you truly realise how tired you felt, the exhaustion of your shift finally catching up to you. The weariness seeped into your bones and made every step that much heavier, slowing you down even more than the snow on the ground.

You couldn't wait to just get home and fall right into bed. Still, the thoughts of your pretty neighbour didn't leave your mind.

It’s the weekend after and somehow Anakin has ended up in the kitchen with the twins at 12 in the morning, again.

See, serving in wars had changed Anakin in ways he had never imagined. Front lines weren’t exactly a place synonymous with warmth and cheer, not unless you enjoyed the warmth of the blood on your hands and the cheer of the so-called victory his bosses had declared. So Anakin had adapted to fulfil his duties – he built an armour around himself to preserve whatever bit of humanity was left in him, a hardened shell to mimic the comfort that none of them could afford, and he also stopped celebrating. None of their conquests felt worth the blood and loss.

That all changed when the twins were born. While his marriage with Padme had started to feel like trying to reignite a wet piece of wood, the first cries of the twins in that plain clinical room had felt like his whole world was splashed with rainbow confetti. But in a matter of seconds the world flipped on its axis when the doctor walked out of the emergency room they had rushed Padme into, delivering that dreadful news and whispering his condolences. Every day after that he wondered if it was worth it, if any of it was worth it. At first the days seemed to drag on, his routine had become pretty stable after his retirement but now the stability felt suffocating, everything became monotonous, and the responsibility of his newborn babies felt like a task he might just never measure up to.

He had ended up isolating himself for days. Hardly stepping out of the house to only buy things for the twins, though most days even that ended in frustration when he couldn't figure out just which baby formula was the best, or if strollers were better than baby carriers, and can babies eat meat? Should he buy this overpriced baby teething toy or that fancy automatic rocking chair? It all felt too much and he had started questioning if he was even fit for fatherhood.

One day, after managing to get through breakfast with two unusually fussy twins, yet another frustrating trip to the grocery store and a disastrous attempt at dinner that ended with a bleeding thumb and a puréed mess of tomatoes that made his kitchen comparable to a crime scene, he had finally broken. He was barely managing to keep his calm when he accidentally opened the forbidden drawer in a hurry to find old clothes to clean the mess, and that's when he saw it. An old photograph from the early days of their marriage. Back when things were much less complicated and the two of them were still floating on the wings of their honeymoon bliss. Back when hope and love drove their relationship to such great heights, the same love that caused it all to crash and burn.

He had ended up calling Obi Wan in near tears, trying so hard to control his breathing, if only for the sake of the sleeping twins. That night he had gotten a good hour-long talk from both Obi Wan and Ahsoka, who made him promise that he wouldn't retreat into himself like that again, that he'd share his problems and let them help him. The sharing part wasn't too bad but he still struggled with the whole 'chill out Skyguy, we'll take the twins for a park adventure and you can just sit at home and relax'.

Relax. Relax. God, he's not sure he even knows how to do this 'chill out' anymore.

But he tried.

Every day he found new reasons to be – right from 'the twins have started crawling, Snips! Soon they'll be taking their first steps- they're already growing up so fast' to 'AHSOKA! OBI WAN! COME HERE QUICK THEY'RE- THEY'RE- THEY SAID THEIR FIRST WORD!' Somehow the twins had said their first words almost at the exact same time, though Leia despite being younger had beat her brother by a few minutes.

He had gotten embarrassingly tearful when they called him 'Papa' for the first time, giggling when they realised how much it shocked him, speechlessly staring at the twins in their high chairs with his mouth dropped open in disbelief. They then proceeded to ecstatically babble the word over and over again in childish glee to make him laugh till they finally exhausted themselves to sleep.

He had cried some more later that evening when he decided that no matter what happened he was going to try his damn best to give the twins everything they deserve, which in his opinion was something more than this universe even, after all they were his universe. He could never imagine a world without his babies and he would do anything for them.

Which is why when the twins attacked him with their full weight as he was watching the evening news from the couch, Luke quickly taking his place behind his dad to massage his shoulders with suspicious generosity and Leia immediately listing all the things they did that day,

“Papa, Luke and I had winter sports practice today.”

“Yes, princess I remember. How’d it go?”

“It went really good. I won first in the race and Luke won in karate practice today! I only got second because this other guy cheated. And we got two stars for our maths homework!"

"That's really good princess, I'm proud of you both."

"And Papa we cleaned our room today, I even sorted all my puzzles into the correct boxes, even the big solar system one," Luke was the one to speak up this time.

"—'Soka helped us vacuum, but we did everything else on our own."

Luke walks around the couch to stand beside his sister, nodding enthusiastically in agreement, "and Miss Lawrence said I was being very good today—"

"and Miss Tran told me I have improved my handwriting—"

"—Okay, what do you guys want?"

The twins blink up at him owlishly. He narrows his eyes when they don't say anything for a minute, only looking at each other from the corner of their eyes as if having a secret conversation in their minds.

Hmm, if this whole twin telepathy thing he heard about was true, he's not sure he's ever going to win any argument against the kids.

And he doesn't. As soon as the twins request, more like politely order him to bake yet another sweet treat for the weekend, fluttering their doe eyes and pouting their sweet pleas, he's hardly able to hold his argument for a few minutes. He tries reminding them of last weekend's berry incident and even resorts to using the good ol' parental excuse of old age exhausting him. Still, their constant pleading and Leia's final resolution of 'if Papa doesn't help us, we're going to make it ourselves' has him finally giving in.

So now here they are, on another Friday evening, well a really early Saturday morning to be accurate, with their matching baking aprons on and some Christmas tunes playing in the background.

Leia's hunched over the countertop, standing on a chair with her small hands stroking an imaginary beard in contemplation, the way she had seen Uncle Obi do, trying to make sense of the cherry-something recipe her dad found on a stray page from his mother's old cookbook. Luke's swearing on his favourite light-up space-themed sneakers that he won't overeat the cherries this time, and Anakin's trying not to lose his mind pitting a whole two pounds of cherries that make his hands look like he just walked off the set of Saw.

"Hmmm, Papa, after a whole lot of deliberation," Anakin pauses his task to raise a brow at his daughter's wording but Leia continues without hesitation, "I think Gramma was being silly and messing with us."

Anakin knows that his daughter is smarter than most and could probably even best him in an argument but he also knows that her mother's prudence holds strong in her, so he understands that what she actually means is "I think your mother may have been a little cuckoo in the brains and was taking the piss out of you."

He laughs as he takes in the very serious look on his daughter's face, "While I would normally believe you kiddo, I can assure you that this recipe is very much real because your very not-silly-dad has tasted it when your not-silly-grandma made it for me as a kid."

Leia only gives him an unconvinced look before climbing down from the chair to walk over to her brother who was standing over the dining table on another chair. She climbs one beside his to look over the table as well.

She sees that Luke has the entire table covered in stray sheets that have unintelligible writing scrawled all over them. The pages are all frail and yellow and she wonders if her papa was wrong and maybe the book belonged to her great-grandmother instead. The pages also have an odd sort of smell and various stains and discoloured spots all over them that make her wrinkle her nose. Well, this book surely must've been…well-loved she thinks.

"Luke, did you find the missing half of the recipe?"

Her brother frowns, "No…I can't even read any of the stuff written on these pages. And that's impossible because we just learned to read last week!"

Leia sighs with a shake of her head, taking in her brother who's again shuffling the sheets in a desperate attempt to find any page similar to the cherry thing recipe their father claims is real, and then glances back at her father who is now practically strangling the cherries into a bloody pulp when she's sure she read the recipe say mix.

She takes in the mess they have made of their apartment – the random specks of flour scattered on the carpet, the stray groceries spilling out of the bag they abandoned after finding the ingredients, the more loose sheets lying on the floor, and the scattered Christmas decorations that were yet to be put up.

She sighs once again before climbing down from the chair and walking back over to the kitchen. She grabs her tablet from the counter and quickly makes a search before walking over to her father. She says nothing as she simply places the device screen side up right next to the bowl he's got his hands in. Anakin stops his cherry slaughtering to glance down at the screen before looking up at his daughter.

"And what is this?"

"Our new plan."

He raises a brow at that, "and why do we need a new plan?"

"Because our house looks like a crime scene and I don't want to go with CPS?"

"Why do you know what a crime scene is? Or even CPS??"

She rolls her eyes, "I'm five, not stupid."

He glances back at the recipe on his screen, "But this says it only a takes a few minutes to make…"

"Exactly."

He pouts at his daughter, "but I thought our baking sessions were father-babies bonding time..don't you wanna spend time with your old man?"

Luke chimes in from his place on the chair, "You're not old, Papa" he giggles, "Uncle Obi is old."

"Wow hold on, hey champ? I want you to remember that and repeat it for me when I get my phone out, okay?"

He removes his hands from the bowl, scrunching his brows and looking at the ceiling in thought, "Hmmm, you know what, I can't remember the last time I hugged you guys…"

Anakin once again exaggerates his pout as he looks back at the twins, "I miss my darlings so much, I just want to hold you in my arms, don't you wanna give daddy a hug?"

Both the twins immediately shake their heads, wide eyes trying to anticipate his moves.

He takes a step forward and Leia takes a step backwards, Luke's tiny hands tighten on the back of the chair.

"Aww c'mon, I think we should have a big ol' group hug like we always do." He opens his arms and wiggles his cherry-stained sticky fingers at them.

The twins once again frantically shake their heads, but there's smiles threatening to grow on their faces.

"No? Hmm I think you guys will change your mind if we give it a try. C'mere—"

And with that he springs forward, the squeals of the twins echo in the apartment as they scramble to get away from his squirming red fingers like they were some goosebumps monster.

"No, papa!" Leia screams as she runs away from him but her toothy grin and giggles give her away. Luke's laughing as their dad scoops his twin into his sticky arms, her tiny hands fisting his shirt as he tickles her belly before placing her on his shoulders like a rucksack, her endless giggles colouring the air.

His laughter quickly dies down when Anakin turns around to set his eyes on Luke next, a smirk taking over his face as he takes slow deliberate steps in his son's direction and Luke shrieks before breaking out into a full sprint with their father hot on his heels.

It doesn't take more than a few steps for Anakin to catch up with Luke's small feet, picking him up with his other arm to tickle him with the sticky fingers.

Leia's still hanging upside down over his shoulder while Luke's giggling as Anakin blows raspberries against his cheek, trying to get away from the attack but he knows his Papa's arm is strong so there's no escape.

But then Leia spots a weapon of her own. As her dad's too busy terrorizing her twin, she uses his distraction to wiggle out of his hold and land on the counter behind him. She bends down to scoop a handful of the powder spilt on the kitchen counter.

Anakin's laughing at his son who's trying to get rid of the cherry slobber all over him when he feels the 'splat' of something hit his back. He immediately freezes.

There's white powder floating in the air and he can feel the stuff in his hair as he hears a small gasp behind him.

He slowly turns around to face his daughter. She's trying to look innocent, hands behind her back to hide the evidence and eyes avoiding his to look up at the ceiling.

He doesn't say anything as he gently places Luke down. The whole apartment is suddenly quiet and he can tell that the twins are holding their breath.

"Oh, it's on."

And just like that the battle starts. There's flour flying everywhere, bright peals of laughter echoing throughout the room, and paper balls and throw pillows joining the arsenal to make it a full-fledged war.

This continues for a good hour and only ends when Anakin comically steps on a pillow covered in flour and goes zooming across the floor to crash into a wall.

They soon end up cleaning everything up before Anakin sends the twins to shower to get rid of the flour and cherry syrup all over them. In the meanwhile Anakin finishes up the cherry cobbler and throws it in the oven.

When the twins finish showering he asks them to keep an eye on the dish while he takes a shower.

"Promise me you won't try to take it out to taste it when it's still hot," the 'like last time' is left out because they all know what he's referring to, specifically with the pointed look in Luke's direction.

Luke simply avoids his dad's eyes while Leia nods dutifully.

When he's done changing into fresh clothes he walks back into the living room where the twins are watching that cursed snowman movie again. He doesn't understand what they love so much about it, if there was a way to shift to a reality where that abomination doesn't exist, he'd gladly do it.

Leia sees him walking into the kitchen to open the oven and jumps off the couch to follow him with Luke trailing right behind.

He removes the pan from the oven and sets it on the counter, "Hey, do you think we should share some of this with Y/n since she helped us last time?"

Leia is the one who answers, "Yeah, she's nice." She's pointedly looking at Anakin but he isn't sure what she means so he just stares back at her until their stare-off is finally broken by Luke chiming in, "Mhm, her sweater was also very soft."

"Oh right," Anakin had entirely forgotten about it, "we should give that back too."

"But what if she doesn't like cherry cobbler?" Luke speaks up again.

"What if she doesn't like cherries?" Leia joins in.

Well shit he hadn't thought of that either.

He scratches his head.

Hmmm, what if you didn't like cherries? but how could they confirm it? It's not like he could just randomly show up at your door right now at 1 in the morning (again) to ask you if you like cherries or not. Or could he…?

No. No, he definitely can't. There's no way he's going to wake you up and inconvenience you again so late at night. But how could they find out then….?

Anakin quickly shakes his head, "Look we made it for ourselves anyway, we can just give her some of it and if she doesn't like it she can just….give it to someone else or something," you seemed too nice to throw it out but the thought of you giving the food he made to someone else didn't sit right with him for some reason.

"Does that mean we get to see Y/N again?" Luke's excited eyes peep over the opposite edge of the counter.

"Nope. At least not today buddy, not right now."

His words are immediately followed by whining from the twins.

"Aww, why not, I wanna give her the sweater back myself—"

"That's not fair, we helped make it too, Papa just wants to talk to her alone—"

"I do not!"

He sighs as he pinches the bridge of his nose before straightening up, "Okay, how about this, it's really late right now and we don't want to disturb her again, right? So what if the two of you write her thank you notes that we can stick on the box that we'll give her?"

"Okay!" Both the twins scramble to gather their markers and paper, racing each other to the bedroom for dibs on the glitter pens.

After the twins are done with their notes, Anakin takes them with the promise to give them to you along with the cherry cobbler.

What they don't know is that Anakin's snuck in a little note of his own. Nothing too long, just a simple

'Thank you for last weekend.

Have a Cherry Christmas.'

And it's the first thing you see when you open your door the next morning, you can't help the smile that takes over your face when you read it, standing in your doorway still in the ugly snowman sweater you fell asleep in.

You look down at the tupperware before opening its lid to the most tasty-looking dessert, taking a delicious whiff before closing the lid again.

You hold the 2 cards that came with it in between your lips as you pick up the tupperware with both arms, opening your door and hip checking it to close behind you.

The weekend couldn't have started better really, you can't wait to read the notes and dig into this delicious treat.

You drop off the box on the kitchen counter to open the Christmas themed note cards, greeted by multiple drawings of snowmen and candy canes and even an ambiguous red circle, something you assume is a cherry? a red ball? tomato?? No, it has to be cherry right? But then why did one of them have these mistletoe-like leaves? and who're the two people holding hands underneath it?

You assume it's the twins but the artistic choices are a little...creative so it's hard to make out.

You pull out a spoon and open the lid to scoop up some of the cobbler as you take turns to read each of the notes scribbled in adorable kindergartener handwriting.

The dish is absolutely scrumptious, melting in your mouth with it's sweet tartiness, but what melts your heart is the sweet messages written on the inside of the cards with glitter hearts around them.

You decide this is definitely going on the fridge.

a/n: this was supposed to come out almost a month ago but here we are. it seems I can just never be on schedule...one might as well compare me to local public transit systems -_- so apologies, but I hope you enjoyed nonetheless!

if u did pls like and comment! a little interaction goes a long way ;)

#anakin skywalker x reader #tbh chat im not too sure abt this one #hayden christensen #anakin skywalker #anakin x reader #anakin imagine #miel works #hayden christensen x reader

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darkficsyouneveraskedfor · 3 months ago

Text

Sweet Like Candy 2

Warnings: non/dubcon, power dynamic, age gap and other dark elements. My username actually says you never asked for any of this.

My warnings are not exhaustive but be aware this is a dark fic and may include potentially triggering topics. Please use your common sense when consuming content. I am not responsible for your decisions.

Characters: Thor, Bucky Barnes (Professor AU)

Summary: the new school year proves to be hectic. (short!chubby! reader)

Part of the Bad Professors AU

Note: Please leave some feedback and reblog <3 As always, I love to chat with you all.

Professor Odinson ends his first lesson. You’re still copying down the nouns he wrote on the whiteboard as the rest of the class packs up, already chattering about their next lecture or what kind of drink they’ll get from the campus cafe. You scribble quickly, resigning yourself to deciphering the scratchy print later.

You just have a few more lines... gosh, you can hardly make out whether that’s a j or a g.

The rows continue to empty and Professor Odinson’s low drawl wafts up as he speaks with a few students about the weekly quizzes. You’re especially nervous about those yourself. As you get to the last set of nouns, he blocks your view with his large body and picks up the eraser.

“No, wait--” you call out and pop your head up.

It’s too late, he swipes right through his own writing. You groan and drop your pen in defeat. You cringe as he turns to look up at you. You roll the pen to the middle of the book and shut it. You stand and start to pack up.

“I didn’t see you up there,” he calls up. “Apologies.”

“It’s okay, professor,” you throw it all in your plush bag. The soft fabric is nice to cuddle and calming. “I’ll just use the textbook to finish.”

You had a look at the textbook. The print is smaller than any book you’ve ever seen. Maybe that’s why it was the cheapest. You hide your dismay as you come to the center aisle and slowly descends.

“Cherry, was it?” He says, “no, no, Cerise.”

“Yeah, that’s me. You remember,” you stop on the bottom step and grin.

“How could I forget? Oh, so lucky you’re here. I meant to inquire, those strawberry candies, what was the brand? I’ve not been able to find any with that particular wrapping.” He says.

“Oh, er, I have some more,” you reach into your bag. “I get them down at the K-Store. They sell all sorts of Korean imports,” you take out you little sack of candy and loose the ribbon drawstring. Primrose sewed you it over the summer. She said it would keep the chocolates from melting into your laptop fan. Again.

“You are too kind. I’ll just have the brand and treat myself--”

“It’s fine! Lots to go around,” you pick out a handful of the strawberry candies. “Here.”

“Thank you,” he holds out his large hand to catch the candy. “You are too kind.”

“No problem,” you grin. “I’ll see you on Thursday.”

“Thursday,” he agrees. You have class twice a week since it’s a language course, and you’re sure you’ll need both periods to get it down.

“Have a good one! Gotta go.”

“You have a class?” He wonders, and you stop before you can skip off.

“Not exactly. My friends are meeting me at the library.”

“Friends, mm. Well, have fun.”

“Enjoy the candy,” you chirp and spin away, “buh bye.”

You rush out and sweep into the hallway. For once, you’re not running behind. Heck, you might even beat Primrose to the library, although you might pick a table she doesn’t like.

As you reach the front doors, you stop short at the odd breeze along your bum. You reach back and groan. No! Your skirt is rumbled up above your but, tucked into the underside of your panties from squirming in your seat. Gosh, you must’ve put on quite the display as your thigh highs do little to cover your ass. Literally.

You just hope Professor Odinson didn’t notice.

You fix your skirt and shake your head at yourself. You shouldn’t have worn the cropped denim jacket, you should’ve brought a shacket. Ugh, you always choose wrong!

Your phone vibrates as you come down the steps onto even ground. You unlock it with one hand as your bag bounces over your hip. You have the font set to a size bigger than before. It's helping.

Sigh. Primrose beat you to it. She’s always such a stickler. You reply that you’ll be there shortly and Olive echoes the sentiment, warning that she might be a few minutes late at her studio class. Good, it’ll take some heat off of you if you’re a bit behind the clock.

You stop at the library cafe. They have a smaller selection than the campus cafe but you get an apple cinnamon muffin and a cider to match. You’re living your best life.

As you come up the library entrance, you tuck your muffin into your bag, angling your arm awkwardly to do so. Your elbow hits something behind you and a grunt startles you. You drop the muffin and it misses your bag, the paper bag crinkling as it hits your foot.

You bring your arm down as you look to your feet. The paper bag is scooped up by a large hand and you follow the arm up as the man stands straight. You gulp as you recognise him. You think. You squint.

“Professor... Barkley?” You utter.

“Barnes,” he growls and holds out the muffins.

“Oop, I’m sorry,” you say as you take the bag, “thanks.”

“You should be careful,” he says.

“I’m sorry, sir, I didn’t mean to--”

“And watch where you’re going,” he growls and sidesteps you, giving you no opportunity for a response.

He struts into the library and you turn to stare after him. Well, you weren’t exactly paying attention. You’d been more concerned about balancing your treats. You head in after him but are sure to turn in the other direction.

You get your muffin safely in your bag and take out your phone. You ask Primrose where she is and she tells you she’s up on the second floor. You do your best to follow the other directions but you don’t get there before Olive.

You sigh as you come up to them and set your paper cup down, “sorry, guys. I got a bit lost.”

“And you got cider,” Primrose remarks.

“I did,” you shrug as you sit.

“It’s fine, Prim,” Olive tuts. “We’re just studying.”

“Just studying,” Primrose shakes her head. “Not me. This professor. He gave me less than a day for my first lesson and now he’s sent back a grocery list of revisions, all while saying no more than a full sentence to me.”

“Sounds like a butt!” You blow a raspberry. “My professors are pretty chill.”

“That’s good,” Olive smiles, “mine too. But physics... I think it’s going to do me in. I haven’t taken it since Grade 12.”

That’s not—oh,” you catch yourself.

“Been a while,” Olive chuckles. “No worries, I know I’m old.”

“Sorry,” you grab your cup and sip.

“Cerise,” Primrose interrupts. “I can help with your Norse homework. I took that class last year. It’s a lot of work.”

“Oh, thank you! Do you still have your notes? I kinda... didn’t get it all.”

“Brought my binder,” she reaches for her bag. “I’ll hand it over if you go grab me one of those.” She taps your cup lid with her other hand.

“Deal,” you agree. Thank god! This might not be as big a disaster as you feared.

#thor #dark thor #dark!thor #bucky barnes #dark bucky barnes #dark!bucky barnes #bucky barnes x reader #thor x reader #series #drabble #au #sweet like candy #professor au #avengers #captain america #mcu #marvel

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1000sunnygo · 7 months ago

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One Piece Academy chapter 47: Lost Dog part 1 (Quick translation)

source | index

(Law and Cora don't appear in this week's part, we'll see them next week!)

"A Grand festival for Onigiri lovers, the Onigiri Expo!"

Onigiri: Waff!

Ace: The heck are you?

[Title Card: New World High "Moby Dick School" 2nd year, Fire fist Ace kun]

Ace: A baby bear?

Onigiri: Waff!

Ace: If it waffs then dog, I guess...You a pup?

Onigiri: *huff* *huff*

Ace: Here, take the skin of my steamed bun. See ya.

(walks away)

Sorry, doggo. I can keep a beetle at best as a pet.

Onigiri: (look at him rofl)

Ace:.....

Hoop!

*puts Onigiri down*

*starts running*

HOW 'BOUT THAT??

Onigiri: Waff! Waff!

Onigiri: *plops*

Ace: !

(Don't look back...!!) *dragging himself*

(rip dog)

Ace: DARN IT!!

Ace: Fine, fiine... my loss.

Well, it's definitely a lost dog so that takes some weight off... let's search for your master, shall we?

Onigiri: *marveled at butterflies*

Ace: Try actin' like a lost dog, will you...

Well, let's go! Er...... Norimochi!

Onigiri:.....

Ace:.... Guess that's not the name.

(T/N: Norimochi is mochi wrapped seaweed so Ace was pretty close! Reminder that Onigiri is named by Luffy, so the bothers have a similar naming tendency lol)

<DOOON! >

[Title card: Faculty, New World Middle School

White Chase Smoker sensei]

Smoker: How long does a freaking cup of coffee take? Tashigi!!!

Tashigi: I'm sorry! There are so many types of beans;;

Someone: *light coughs*

Ace: Sorry for the inconvenience, but... do you perhaps recognize this dog?

Smoker:

Ace: 'guess not? Sorry for the trouble! 👋🏼

Smoker: You!!

Smoker: HOLD IT RIGHT THERE!

Tashigi: *brings coffee* Decided to go with the regular after all!...Huh?

Ace:!!

Oop!!

Ace: The dude from earlier.. ain't that too flashy for a greeting?

Smoker: You sure look carefree... Whitebeard corps second commander, Portgas D. Ace.

Ace: Mm? You're that guy from Luffy's class! If I remember right, smokey-

Smoker: It's Smoker!

Ace: Right, Smoker sensei, tutoring my li'l brother.

Smoker: Cut the crap. You stayed at our school for two months, made a name while I was away on a business trip, then quickly transferred to Moby Dick School branch.

Only if you hadn't moved there... I would've thrown you and your brother into the reform room and straightened you out!

Ace: Well, now I'm practically in a different school, so let all that slide, maybe?

Smoker: No can do. As long as I'm a teacher, and you're a thug!

Ace: What a boring reason.

Aight, let's have fun!

Smoker: But before that, why's that dog with you?

Continues in Reblog ⬇️

#the last sentence is more like “whatsup with [that] dog” as in smoker can recognize which dog it is hah #curiously it seems the author is building some plot connection between law and smoker #well anyway #unexpectedly ace and smokey centric and ace's speech is so much fun to translate haha #one piece #one piece party #portgas d ace #one piece smoker #white chase smoker #fire fist ace #one piece onigiri #trafalgar law #donquixote rosinante #heart pirates #my translations #one piece translations

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thedovesaredying · 3 months ago

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Monsters in the Dark | Nikto x Reader | Part 4

The long awaited part 4 of the Cowboy!Nikto series, set within the cowboy AU originally created by @ghouljams Sorry this took so long to get out, I've been really hecking busy these last few weeks with exams and assignments for uni.

A/N: Fun fact, during lectures, tutorials and even in the middle of exams we occasionally have students who have kangeroo joeys chilling in little joey bags at the end of the room since the babies need to be taken everywhere so they can be fed on time. It's just a normal, everyday occurance to have a baby marsupial hanging out in your bag or stuffed down your shirt, idk what to tell y'all, that's just how vet school be lmao.

Warnings: None.

Masterlist: CoD Masterlist

First | Prev | Next

Murphy’s store, from what little you’ve managed to gather of it during your few months living in the area, is often a rather busy place. It’s the nearest feed store for miles around, frequented daily by the masses of farmers seeking to keep their stock well maintained with only the best produce on offer. Not only is the feed, grain and harvest on offer top of the line, but everything can be purchased for a bargain deal if one knows how to barter. Even if the prices weren’t so good, it would be impossible to travel the long distance to the next town over, the price of the gas alone enough to send most bankrupt.

You don’t need to go there often, just to pick up supplies for the animals being cared for by the clinic or collect orders for your coworkers while you’re passing through. However, since it’s such a hub of activity, the feed store is one of the best places in town to interact with the locals. It’s the center of gossip and the ideal way to gather new information on what’s happening.

You’re almost done with collecting the items you need, several bags shoved under one of your arms and a bottle of pest spray in the other. The somewhat peaceful surrounds are disturbed by what sounds like a familiar voice. Curious, you head toward the front counter, poking your head around the corner of one of the aisles.

Much to your surprise, it’s exactly who you thought it was, and you can only watch as Nikto continues to loudly argue with another man standing close to the front counter. On further observation, however, it seems less like an actual argument and more like a one-sided shouting match. The poor store owner, Murphy, is trying to separate the two agitated men to very little success.

Partially wanting to save whatever poor soul is currently being torn to pieces, and partially wanting to find out what has the normally stoic Russian raising his voice, you quickly make your way to the front of the store. After depositing your purchases onto the counter, you cautiously approach the two men.

“Nikto?” you call, almost jumping when his head snaps toward you with such speed that you briefly worry he’s given himself whiplash. His frigid eyes pin you in place, somehow seeming to burn with rage while also remaining ice cold. Yet, you can see the recognition as it passes through his gaze, his hard stare suddenly becoming calm between one blink and the next.

“Are you okay?” you ask, ignoring Murphy as he starts dragging the other man away by the arm while Nikto is momentarily distracted. You don’t get a response other than Nikto blinking owlishly at you and try calling his name again. That seems to finally snap him out of his confused stupor, and he gives you a firm nod.

“We are fine,” Nikto scoffs, sudden enough that you almost jump, “we can handle ourselves against a civilian.” He hefts up the bag of feed sitting at his feet, resting it over his good shoulder.

“What happened?” you ask, frowning as you glance over to where the other man appears to be getting quite the chewing out from Murphy. Nikto just waves off your concern and places down a small handful of notes on the front counter. You quickly grab out your own wallet to start counting out your own cash, putting down a rather generous amount given you don’t think Murphy will be free to discuss anything for a while.

You trot along after Nikto’s retreating form, only just managing to keep up with his lengthy stride while juggling your purchases. His body is rigid and you can tell something is bothering him, but he hasn’t complained about your presence yet, so you continue to follow him through the carpark.

When he finally reaches his truck, he easily tosses the bag of feed into the tray with a small huff. He brushes the dust off his hand and onto the side of his jeans, giving them a firm slap to try and get rid of the excess. The sound causes movement from the inside of the truck and a moment later a black snout pokes through the small opening, wet nose rapidly sniffing away.

Through the heavily tinted windows you can see Sputnik’s whole body excitedly wiggling at the sight of both you and her owner, doing her best to try and shove as much of her massive head through the tiny air gap as physically possible. Seemingly realising that she can’t get much more out of the crack, she starts whining rather loudly with a few sad little cackles. It pulls at your heartstrings just enough to make you lift your hand up for her to sniff at, only to earn some slobbery kisses from her eager tongue.

Your giggle draws Nikto’s attention back from wherever it’s wandered and he blinks at the scene before him. “Спутник!” he grunts, trying to shoo her head away, but only ends up getting a lick of his own in return. His grumbling just has you snickering slightly, especially when the hyena starts trying to bite his gloves off.

The laugher, however, disturbs something else, and a moment later there’s wriggling against your chest. The movement immediately draws Nikto’s attention to the space between your breasts and he seems to frantically switch between averting his gaze from your chest and blatantly starting at the weird motion occurring under the fabric of your shirt.

You quickly toss the items you were carrying into your bag before shoving a hand down the inside of your shirt. “Sorry, I think he’s a little hungry, he’s due a feeding soon,” you explain, retrieving a tiny baby opossum from the inside of your shirt. It squeaks and tries to wrap its tiny paws around your thumb, yawning so widely that its tiny eyes squeeze closed.

Nikto blinks at the baby opossum. The baby opossum blanks back.

He looks at you and then back at the opossum again, looking to be searching for a single question that encompasses everything he wants to know. You decide to save him from the obvious confusion and offer him an explanation, “he was orphaned when his mother got hit by a truck the other day. The rest of his siblings didn’t survive the night, but this little fella seems to be quite determined to hold on.”

Nikto just slowly nods, “and it is in the shirt because...?” His head tilts a little too the side when the opossum decides to nuzzle its tiny face into your hand and drift back off to sleep again.

You feel a little stupid for not answering the obvious and snort to yourself before launching into an explanation, “well, normally I’d have my daytime joey bag for looking after marsupial babies since they like dark, warm places to sleep, but it’s in the wash currently and he’s too tiny to be put in any of my other bags so...” you trail off with a half-shrug, “seemed as good a place as any.”

“This is a regular occurrence?” he asks, and even if you couldn’t see his eyes, you can practically hear the raised eyebrow.

“No, I just have one in case something like this happens,” you gesture at the sleeping joey with a raised eyebrow of your own, “I’m taking him to a wildlife carer the next town over, tonight.”

Nikto hums, thoughtful, but is yet to appear convinced. He tries to pet the head of the little opossum but gets only an angry hiss from the animal in return. He looks a little put out by that and squints at the little ball of fluff, “we are certain it is not rabid, да?”

You just scoff at him, gently placing the animal back into your shirt, “I wouldn’t be holding him if he was rabid, besides, opossums don’t normally carry rabies, their body temperature is too low for it to survive.” The joey briefly pokes its head out of your shirt, squinting back at Nikto almost as fiercely, “he can probably just smell Sputnik on you, that’s all.”

At the mention of her name, Sputnik starts yowling rather pathetically, whining and trying to gnaw at the window’s edge in an attempt to get through to you. Her eyes are round and wet, and her bottom lip is quivering like a toddler about to burst into tears. You’d love to give her a pet and a smooch on the top of her head, but you get the feeling she’d try to take a chunk out of your little friend.

“How long will you be gone?” Nikto eventually asks, waving at Sputnik in a futile attempt at calming her distressed cries.

You briefly pull out your phone, glancing at the time, “it’s a little late now, so I might end up staying there overnight, but I’ll be back sometime around midday,” you hum, tucking the mobile away again, “why, gonna miss me?” You grin at your companion, doing your best not to laugh at his rather dramatic eyeroll.

“нет, but our спутник will cry,” he pokes at her nose, ignoring how she tries to lick his finger in return.

You give in to the urge to coo at the heartbroken hyena, squeezing your fingers inside the truck to tickle at her chin, “well then, we can’t have this poor girl being sad, can we?” She has no idea what you’re saying, but that doesn’t stop her from fogging up the glass with her happily little huffs. “You’ll owe me for all the snuggles I’m going to have to give this little sweetheart when I get back.”

“We will offer you a drink, for the suffering you must endure,” he nods sagely, and you laugh at his solemn response.

You point a finger at him, raising an eyebrow, “I’ll be holding you to that, it’s impossible to get a good drink out here.” Heaving your bag up onto your shoulder and checking that your little opossum friend is still accounted for, you offer Sputnik a little pet on the top of her snout.

“I’ll see you two around,” you chirp, offering Nikto a polite little wave, delighted when he gives you a stiff nod in return. He’s certainly far from the warmest of individuals, but he’s grown a little less frigid toward you in recent weeks and that only makes you more eager to break through his frosty exterior.

You hope into your own truck and toss everything into the passenger side seat. You’ve got a long day ahead, and a tiny baby hankering for some food. With luck, your drive to the next town over won’t take too long and you’ll be able to enjoy some downtime without constantly being on call for what feels like every farmer for a hundred miles.

You were only half serious with your demands for a drink, but for some reason you can’t quite stomp down the giddy feeling deep in your belly at the thought.

#writing #call of duty modern warfare #reader insert #nikto x reader #fanfic #nikto x you #call of duty nikto #cowboy au

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604to647 · 28 days ago

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Holidays in the 604

Hope everyone has been having a good holidays so far, however that looks for you or best suits your sensibilities 🥹🥰🫂🎄🎄

I started to write write some HCs for what the holidays might look like for the couples in a few of my series (Safest with You, The Rockford Portfolio, etc.) but for reasons below the cut, haven't had much energy or motivation to write (no need to read, it's a bit of a downer and kind of rambly!) - I'm hoping that I can find a little bit of both in the next few days and maybe get some thoughts down to still post.

For those same reasons, I haven't been on here much, to my detriment if I'm being honest - this place is a source of escapism for me and not being able to come on here for more than a few minutes a day has felt a bit offputting. I feel like I've missed a lot of amazing holiday stories that would have likely boosted my spirits a bit - I'll try to go back and find them but if you have or read any that you wish to recommend/share, please do let me know!

Similarly, thank you to everyone for your tags/mentions/asks - I want to get to them and maybe still participate in a few tag games if it's not too late when I muster up some energy. Thank you for thinking of me!! I truly wish that you all continue to have a lovely holiday season and look forward to ringing in the new year! You're all such a welcomed presence in my life and I'm grateful to each and every one of you for being here! Hope to see you soon 🥹 KISS KISS 😘😘

Ok, now as to why Emily has a bit of the holiday blues this year:

I didn't grow up with a lot of hard set Christmas traditions, celebrations around the end of the year didn't go much beyond the commercial and the holiday season was mainly appreciated for being time off (from school, work), a time to rest and relax. There was cheer and joy, but as the kids say these days, it wasn't that deep. I've since married into a family that puts A LOT of pressure on Christmas - with an emphasis on physical togetherness and adhering to traditions/customs, that (to me anyways) can feel at times more performative than enjoyable; I totally understand the comfort in doing things the way they've always been done, but a lot of times it feels like people are just checking things off a list rather than genuinely enjoying (for example) baking the Christmas cookies, you know what I mean? Couple that with my priorities for my kiddos' Christmas, the way we spend Christmas now can feel a lot like a season of obligation. Depending on what the particular plan is for that year, it can also be incredibly hard, draining, and not all that jolly for me.

This was one of those years.

I hosted the big Christmas dinner at my house and also had those from out of town staying with us for a week. I'm a Virgo who thinks of her home as her sanctuary, am a bit fastidious about her things, and sees value in being forthright. It's a lot for me to have people taking over my house, making messes, and pushing/crossing boundaries that I've tried to set due to previous visits, all while maintaining a certain level of holiday cheer and slapping on a facade of "it's fine" when I definitely don't feel that way. I'll admit I wasn't always successful this past week.

Mr. 604 is very supportive and knows his family can be a lot, but at the end of the day a) he's just a man 😂 (and not a miracle worker) and b) they are his family and he himself has had to "grin and bear" a great many things over the course of his life, so he has more practice at it but doesn't necessarily have any advice to impart on how to better cope with the chaos.

It makes me feel like a curmudgeon for not being able to suck it up more and pretend for the sake of the kids, or even to help maintain this performance of "family togetherness" that seems to be the whole point of whatever the heck everyone was doing. So this holiday season has thus far been exhausting, filled with guilt, and left me feeling a bit empty.

I am okay and recovering now, it will just take a few days I think. If you read this far - thank you! I just needed to rant a little bit - I don't feel much like myself these days and that in itself can be depressing, especially at a time when I'm supposed to be experiencing the opposite. Here's to some rest, some quiet, some peace in the last few days of 2024 for myself, Mr. 604, and anyone else who needs it! 🤞🏻🥰

#personal #might delete later idk #happy holidays loves

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echantedtoon · 2 months ago

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A Lovers' Circle (Poly Haishira x Reader) Ch20 Flashy Muse P2

Hearts conquered so far: Kyojuro, Sanemi, Tengen, Giyuu, Gyomei, Shinobu, Kanae, Suma, Mitsuri, and now it's Makio and Hinatsuru's turn. )

Taglist: @shadyd3ar @jcrml

@tengensangel @miniverse-zen @mysteri0uz @jjamsbangtan

@the-unknown-fandom

@lavenderdropp @mimisweetz. @purplesoulsapphire

@kksmush @denkpanda18 @whomisi @lessthanimperfect @silver-rin

@namis-noodlebox

@k1ttyluverz @akiramente

@rascalraccoon @ravenclawkae1

@gilded-sunrays @crescent-blades

@yukari1k @bloodymarysgirl21

@artbyrebel @abaker74 @lunarluna9482

@rainbowidol

Remember if you want to be added to the taglist lemme know

You hadn't really expected anything else going into December finally. Your project was finally done with Shinobu compiling everything and turning it in for everyone, and you just had to get through with the rest of your classes (which were easy considering all major projects and exams for your classes were already finished) and work before the daycare closed along with the school for Christmas break.

Overall things were finally starting to wind down for you at last.

No more projects. No more exams. Kanae kept her promise to get her sister to start eating better you had no more worries for cooking for Giyuu. You'd have a two week break from doing anything else. Yes, Sir. Just you, freedom, and doing whatever the heck you'd like. ..

Or so you thought.

Recently you've been getting calls and texts from numbers you didn't recognize. At first you ignored the calls or texted back the strangers that they had the wrong number since you obviously didn't recognize them. It stopped a few of them for a bit until one day Sanemi came up to you one day after daycare was over to pick up Koto. It was business as usual as you smiled at him and bounced the giggling toddler on your hip. However his grumpy expression caught you off guard.

"Why aren't you answering our calls?"

You had stopped what you were doing. Blinking at him as others walked around collecting their kids from your coworker also checking out others. "I-...Your calls?"

Sanemi groaned giving an annoyed facepalm. "For crying out loud. Didn't we give you our numbers?"

Their numbers? No. You didn't think you had any of their numbers other than Mei's obviously and Shinobu's and Giyuu's because you guys had been working on that project together. Oh wait! You did have their numbers actually! A few weeks back when he had gotten concerned about the situation at MacDougal's. Technically you still had it pinned up on your fridge but you hadn't really given it a second thought.

"Oh! I um...S-Sorry. Things have been really busy with the holidays and stuff. I must've forgotten about them- Hey. Wait." You rose a brow at his annoyed pout. "You gave me everyone's numbers but I didn't give anyone mind and I'm pretty sure Mei didn't either. How did you get my number?"

"Giyuu gave it to us."

That made your eyebrows raised higher in surprise. "Giyuu gave you my number?" He nodded. "That's weird. Why didn't he ask me first?"

"Does it matter? We're friends aren't we?"

"Of course! I consider all of you my friends."

"Then what's the big deal?" He stopped when you frowned at him.

"The big deal is that he gave someone my number without permission! I would've been totally fine with all of you having my number but the decent thing would be to ASK me first, Sanemi," you scolded him making his face go an embarrassed pink. "If I'd given your numbers to my aunt without asking then you would've been upset too. Wouldn't you?"

The entire time Koto had been looking back and forth between you and his brother, whom sheepishly rubbed the back of his head eyes looking down. "Yeah. .. Whatever. I get it." Before his purple eyes looked back up to you. "But you still didn't answer my question. I texted you like five times."

"Oh? And what's that?"

"Kanae's favorite band is gonna be in town next Tuesday but she can't go cuz she's gotta study. I-..D-Do you wanna go with me instead? It'll just be us n' Obanai."

You shook your head. "Can't. I'm still working on lots of things before the holidays." Instantly he deflated as you handed over his brother. "And I'm going to find Giyuu after this and have a little talk with him about giving away my numbers randomly."

Easier said than done. You couldn't find said blue eyed man anywhere after you helped clean up and searched where you'd usually find him on campus. You had to wait two days when you attended health class Friday to find him again. He sat in his usual spot alone minus Shinobu next to him but he perked up immediately when you say down to his other side. Glassy eyes immediately brightened up as you just waited until the end of class to pull them both aside and as you promised, giving them both a serious talk about asking permission before just giving out your number. Giyuu looked like a guilty puppy shuffling his feet and Shinobu just smiled like you weren't annoyed with them.

"We understand! Let's make you lunch to make up for it."

You just blinked at her. "What?"

"Come hang out with us," Giyuu offered you gingerly reaching out to grab your hand making you pause. "W-We can watch a movie and I can make popcorn." You had paused in the process and just ended up staring at Giyuu's hand until he also noticed and dropped your hand. "I-Im so sorry!"

"I-It's ok." You slowly pulled your hand back to your side feeling awkward. "Um. I can't sorry. I'm cleaning my house today so I'm going to be busy."

That was strange. Twice in one week you were asked to hang out with people. Then again you never had so many friends at once before and Murata was often too busy to hang out so you were probably not used to lots of people wanting to hang out with you before, still you couldn't help but shake off the strange feeling it left you with.

For now you brushed it off and this time answering the calls and texts you had gotten. Most of which were from Mitsuri spamming you hearts and random links to cat videos and pictures of herself and Obanai doing things. Wow. She really did have lots of energy. But there was a few from the others too. Sanemi still asking for time to hang out. The Kocho sisters politely starting conversations about classes. Kyojuro texted/called you the least bit he did call you once to personally thank you for the cookie recipe. Giyuu was a close second for the least because all he did was text you one picture of a MacDougal's restaurant with the words 'lunch tomorrow?'

It was pretty overwhelming but you managed..or well Gyomei managed it for you after he noticed the onslaught of rapid texts from Suma and Mitsuri during work hours stressing you a little bit. You had no idea what he must've told them, but their twenty texts a day turned to at least one a day for which you were greatly appreciated. He definitely has a way to handle things. However what did surprise you however was the call you got one day out of the blue while you were paying bills. Again it was a number you didn't recognize and you didn't recognize it as one of the friends that texted you. It was probably just a junk call but you decided to answer it anyways holding it up to your ear.

"Hello?"

You were surprised by the voice on the other side. "Hey, Baker Babe.~ How are you doing today?~"

You blinked at the familiar voice. "Tengen." You hadn't heard from him since November the twenty seventh when Makio had her birthday party. Although you had seen his wives a few times at the campus cafe. "Oh wow. I haven't heard from you in a while. How have you been?"

"I haven't been better!," his voice came out bright and cheerful much to your relief. "Figured I'd call and set up our first appointment together."

Call huh? He must've gotten your number from Giyuu too. "Appointment?," you questioned.

"For the painting! Or did you forget that you agreed to be my muse?," he clarified. Oh. Right. You'd forgotten about that. "I have THE idea of what I want to paint, but I can't do that until you pose for me."

You chuckled at him. "I remember. As long as you aren't planning on having me be a nude model." You joked which earnt you a choking noise from the other side.

"W-WHAT?! N-NO! NOTHING LIKE THAT!," He choked out making you giggle more. "I just want you to model an outfit for me is all! I-I already borrowed it from Mitsuri!"

An outfit huh? Well if it was from Mitsuri you guessed that was ok. "Oh. Ok. When did you want to start?"

"You free this weekend? I'm off those days so it'll be a good time to get started."

"That sounds like a good idea. I don't know your address though. Kyojuro drove me last time."

"If you want, I could stop over n' getcha. Or one of my wives can."

"I can drive myself. It'll just save everyone time. Text me your address ok?"

"M'kay. Say you show up 'round nine?"

You assumed that was nine in the morning. "You can count on me! By the way, are any of you allergic to strawberries?"

"Uh...No?"

"Ok! I'll see you there then!" With that you hung up with him and continued on your way to go pay your Internet bill for that month.

And to stop by the store to buy fresh strawberries. Later you got a text from Tengen with an address listed for his home. Perfect. That just you one other thing to do then.

Two days flew by with the first Saturday of December. Pretty fluffy snowflakes calmly fell down from the grey snow clouds overhead being the first snowfall of the year. The inside of your car was warm and you were even warmer wrapped up in your warm coat in wearing your fluffy scarf around your neck. Following the address on a sticky note on your steering wheel and remembering certain sights from when Kyojuro drove you, you found your way back towards the handsome painter's home. Driving through the familiar streets and turning the corner where you saw the three story home. Slowly the car pulled over to the side of the road just in front of the house.

It was quiet when you excited the car and started walking up towards the home minus the occasional car. We're they even home? One way to find out. Walking up to the door you reached a hand out, and gently knocked on the door. Almost IMMEDIATELY footsteps approached the door and a woman with pink eyes opened it up.

"Oh. Hello, Y/n," Hinatsuru greeted with a smile. "You're early."

"Yeah." Your voice was slightly muffled by the scarf. "I wanted a head start in case I got lost." You stepped in when she stepped inside shivering. "Did you see the snow? Looks like we're going to have a white Christmas this year."

"Here's hoping."

"Where's everyone else?"

You didn't have to ask because a squeal and two women coming out of the kitchen answered your question. Hinatsuru only sighed as the door closed.

"Y/N!!," Suma squealed out and in a similar fashion to Mitsuri bounced her way over starry wide eyed. "Did you bring me anything yummy?!"

"Pipe down you glutton!" Ah. Makio. Said woman was already looking annoyed with her wife as she stood there hands on her hips. "You shouldn't just expect people to bring you food like some free food truck service. How rude are you?"

"Makiiiooo. Don't be so mean to me!"

Hoo boy. Here you go again. Hoping to avoid any fights while you were here, you stopped them both by shoving a box up to Makio's face making her blink. "Actually I did bring you all something. Mostly for Makio but it's to be eaten by all four of you."

Makio stood still. Looking almost cross eyed at the box silently but Suma was practically drooling fixated on it. "Aaaaaaahhh. What is it?! Cherry pie?! Tarts?! Hand made mochi?!"

"It's a birthday cake for Makio." Orange eyes looked up at you. "I noticed that you didn't have any cake for your party and..Well a birthday isn't a birthday without a birthday cake. I don't know if you'd like it but it's a chocolate strawberry shortcake."

"Chocolate strawberry shortcake?! That sounds SO GOOD!!"

Makio didn't respond to Suma practically yelling in both your ears. Instead she continued to stare at you. Before slowly looking back to the box. And then slowly taking it from you. A very puzzled expression still on her face.

"You made a birthday cake?...For me?," she asked slowly still staring at the box. "But..I didn't ask you to make this for me. No one even noticed that I didn't have a cake."

"I'm sure the boys did try to make you one, and you didn't have to." She stared at your smile. "Better late than never right? If there was any ingredients for it the last time I was here, I would've made you a cake last week." She didn't respond to you, only staring wide eyed. "Hey. Where's Tengen?"

"He's been upstairs preparing the studio." Hinatsuru gestured to the stairs. "I can show you where that is if you want." You nodded. "Just follow me then."

You followed Hinatsuru up the stairs leaving behind a wide eyed Makio and Sums who was drooling over the sweet smells coming from the box in her hands. You just hoped they wouldn't start another fight over the cake. Following the pink eyed woman up the steps, you took the chance to loosen the scarf from your neck and finally have a chance to look around. The daytime had lit up the upstairs so now you got to see the second floor without the dark in the way. It was..pretty empty. Just a hallway with a series of doors, a staircase leading up to the attic you assumed, and unsurprisingly more paintings.

Two of them were interesting. A head portrait of Kyojuro from the shoulders up right next to a window and a spider Lily made out of dots. You think that was called pointillism art?? You only knew what that was because your aunt's latest customer had also been an artist and had gifted her a similar painting.

"Wow. I can't believe Tengen actually made all of these. He really is talented isn't he?"

Hinatsuru smiled as you admired the paint that made up a highly realistic version of Kyojuro. "Yes. We're all very proud of him." Her arm gestured towards the stairs. "C'mon. The studio's in the attic. He wanted the biggest space possible to work in."

You again followed her up the second flight of stairs and came to a giant room. The space was really big and honestly a lot cleaner than you expected for an artist's studio. Two long foldable tables were on either side having some kind of mush mash up of lots of random art supplies like brushes, a giant paint bucket or two, and for some reason a giant plastic tarp. A giant wooden shelf was also cluttered with more supplies. A little unorganized but clean. Canvases of all sizes were strewn about the place leaning against the walls and tables and a few on the floor at one man's feet.

"Honey!"

Tengen turned with a hum at the sound of his wife calling him but immediately beamed seeing you behind her. "AH!! There's my flamboyant muse!" Immediately he turned to you arms open wide and welcoming. "Welcome to the world famous Uzui studios! Beauty ain't it?"

You nodded politely taking a look at him. You hadn't ever seen him like this before he was dressed completely normal in fuzzy socks, a paint stained apron, and his hair completely tied up in a bun. Completely different from the other times you've seen him. He looked so domestic but no less handsome.

"Never been to an art studio before. What do I do?"

He pointed finger guns at you. "Straight to the best part! I like your style!" Your head tilted as he just leaned over and plucked up a gym bag at his feet. "Well first you gotta put this on and then I'll have you pose for me. I can start the painting after." With that he tossed the bag to you.

You yelped fumbling to catch it and when you did, you took a moment to open it, peer inside, and blinked. "Is this.." Your brow rose in question at him. "My Halloween costume?"

He nodded. "Yep. You see I gotta certain aesthetic I'm going for with this price that involves SPARKLING FLAIR!!" He held his hands up in a hold on kinda way. "I remembered that beautiful outfit Mitsuri dressed you in and I knew it was perfect! Hina can help you put it on!"

He wanted to go dress up in your queen costume? You guessed he must've been going with a Renaissance or fantasy theme for the painting and you did say you'd pose for him so you'd put on the costume. Hina gestured for you to follow her back downstairs to one of the guest bedrooms and allowed her to help you squeeze into the fluffy white sparkly ruffled dress and didn't object when she styled your hair or did your makeup a certain way. But was surprised when she pulled out jewelry to go with your fake crown.

"Do I really need these?"

She nodded holding up a necklace to you. "Tengen picked out what he thinks would best go with the painting. You'll only have to wear it a few hours a day for the painting. You're not allergic to certain metals are you?"

"No. I just think something like this would look better on someone so much prettier like you."

Hinatsuru paused, blinking lightly. "Huh?"

"Sure. You're like super pretty so this matches your eyes and...." You blinked at her wide eyed look. "Hey. Are you ok?"

"Uh. F-Fine! L-Let's finish up so you can pose for the picture."

That was strange but you brushed it off before returning back to Tengen whom looked VERY pleased with how you looked. You were guided to a stool to sit down on before he went rummaging through a pile of canvases nearly four feet high before pulling out one about as big as the one that held Kanae's portrait downstairs and placing it on the stand he set up. Taking a step back he pulled over one of the tables with a loud scrap sound in reach of many brushes and paints. With a deep inhale he slowly exhaled, holding his arms out and stretching out his shoulders.

"And so...It begins." His hands formed a rectangle for him to look through at you. "Just hold that pose. And smile because right now you're the most beautiful thing on earth." The compliment got a giggle out of you, pink to your cheeks, and a cute smile on your face that made his pupils shrink. "YES!!" He was quick to grab a brush and two paints that when mixed together would get your skin tone perfectly. "HOLD. THAT. MOMENT. Stay beautiful! Stay vibrant!" He was already ripping the caps off the bottles. "This is what I've been missing!"

You sat for literal hours. Sitting there smiling as Tengen went back and forth between the canvas and you. Eyes calculating and quick as he moved his arms around painting and every so often switching between brushes or dunking them in a dirty cup to clean them. At some points he even through still paying covered bridges or open paint bottles onto the table abandoning them in favor of grabbing another different paint bottle or brush, a brand new one all together, or the cloth nearby to wipe at his sweating forehead. You didn't think anyone could work up a sweat by just painting but by the way Tengen was moving about quickly, he might as well have been at the gym pulling weights. The thrown brushes and still open paint bottles leaked out and splattered paint everywhere he discarded them leaving a mess behind that you were sure his wives weren't going to be too happy about.

Speaking of his wives-

A few footsteps came up from the staircase behind you and on instinct you turned to see Hinatsuru's form holding two bowls of soup in her hands-

"Oi!" Tengen yelled out snapping his fingers quickly. "Eyes on me, Princess! When in the zone you gotta stay focused!"

"Oh hush up with that logic." His wife gave him a look as he frowned back at her but she held up the bowls. "Lunch is ready. I brought you both some miso soup since you haven't eaten all day."

Just the mere mentioning of food had your embarrassed stomach rumbling at the delicious smell. Had it really been that long? In response she happily handed you a bowl to which you thanked her before she went over to hand Tengen his food to which he pouted like a child.

"Hina, I don't have time for lunch!" His hand pushed away the bowl gently. "This is the first time I've been really inspired for over two months! I NEED to work on this!"

Hinatsuru's eyebrow rose unamused. "And an artist knows how to take breaks." The bowl was held up to him again to which he scrunched up his face like when one of the toddlers at the daycare didn't want to eat the healthy snacks made during snack time. "Tengen Uzui! You put down that brush and eat your food this instant!"

"I'm not hungry!"

.... Hinatsuru hummed nodding a little bit. "Alright."

You watched sipping on the soup as she walked over to place the bowl on the table and you thought she was just going to set it down for him to eat later- When faster than both of you could comprehend, she turned around, snatched the painting off the stand, and sped walked towards the stairs. The painting's back facing you the entire time so you couldn't see what it looked like so far.

Tengen sputtered in shock letting his mouth drop. "I- ..H-HEY!! HINA, BRING THAT BACK!!"

She stopped at the top of the stairs and glared at him. "No! You're going to take time out to eat your soup and when I come back it had better be all gone! If you don't eat it and clean up your entire mess-" She gestured to all the paint everywhere. "- by the time I come back then you're not painting for the rest of the day!!"

"HINA!?"

"EAT!" Her arm raised up pointing at the bowl on the table. "YOUR! SOUP!! And clean up this mess!"

"Hina, that ain't fair!" He looked at you desperately gesturing to his wife. "Y/n, you don't think it's fair to stop painting you right?!"

You couldn't help but giggle at his slack jawed face. "I don't think you should anger her more, Tengen."

Tengen sputtered looking between the two of you before pouting harder making you giggle again and Hinatsuru smile at you

"Would you like something to drink, Y/n?"

"No thanks. The soup's good enough. How's the cake?"

"Are you kidding? Suma and Makio already ate most of it. I was lucky enough to cut a slice for Tengen."

"They are all of it already?"

"Cake?" Tengen perked up but Hinatsuru frowned at him again.

"No dessert before dinner! And you won't be getting any unless you clean up too! I just mopped in here yesterday morning."

Once again Tengen pouted and Hinatsuru left making sure to take Tengen's painting with her. You giggled again as she grumpily took the bowl in his hands..and reluctantly started eating his own soup with a pout. You couldn't contain your giggles to which he frowned at you but didn't say anything else as he literally downed the soul before standing up, leaving the empty bowl on the table and made his way over to the disorganized shelf. Turns out he was getting a giant box of wet wipes.

"Would you like me to help you?"

He waved you off with a sigh. "Nah. This wouldn't be the first time I had to clean up. Hina gets on my case all the time about this kinda stuff. Sides I don't want your dress ruined. Mitsuri would never forgive me."

You silently continued to eat as you watched him with a grumble starting to wipe at the paint on the floor. Until f/c eyes glanced to the still open bottles and paint brushes still thrown about everywhere on the table. Oh gosh. It reminded you of 'Finger Paint Fridays' at the daycare and the mess that was always left behind.

So you didn't think twice when you stood up and approached the messy table. Your fist grabbing a handful of wet wipes and picking up the first paste bottle of blue paint between your thumb and pointer finger. Paint dripping off the sides as you wiped it clean before popping the cap back on it and moving to the next bottle.

Tengen looked up in surprise from his kneeled position on the floor as if he wasn't expecting you to start helping him..but said nothing as he went back to wiping at a red paint glob on the hardwood floors. Your focus went on autopilot automatically. So you had been scrubbing at the table cleaning up it's surface, wiping bottles clean and neatly putting them in order, taking the brushes over to a connecting bathroom to wash them off in the sink. Tengen's wastebasket was filling up quickly as he slowly stood up with a groan.

"Ok. Maybe Makio had a point of me flinging paint everywhere."

His hands rubbed his back from where it ached as the man turned to thank the woman for helping him- But he blinked as she walked past him towards the other table. ...Tengen blinked, turning his head to ask what she was doing but paused as she started quickly grabbing things off the table and wiping down the surface even if it wasn't as dirty as the other table had been. He raised a hand and opened his mouth as she turned arms full of other things but she again walked on past him.

Dumbfounded Tengen only turned to continue watching as she ran too and through the tables carrying everything only to organize it on one big table before she headed on over to the shelf to do the same thing. Taking things off and cleaning the shelves only to neatly organize everything back. Plum eyes only went left and right watching her like a busy bumblebee.

By the time she was done with the process, everything on the tables had somehow been neatly placed on the shelves. And she was in the process of leaning all the random canvases against the right wall. During some point Hinatsuru had come back to see what was going on only to also pause stunned by the transformation of the usually cluttered room.

"Wow. The place looks great! You finally organized everything like we've told you."

"Uh..It wasn't me." He pointed at you as you finished propping up the last of the stray canvases against the wall and turned around to just go finish eating your food. "How did you even do all of that in high heels?"

"How could you not do that without high heels?" Tengen have her another frown.

"Oops. Sorry. I guess I got a bit carried away." You shyly smiled. "I'm used to cleaning up after the kids finger paint so I guess instincts took over."

"Well I for one like it!" Hinatsuru's head nodded in approval. "I've been tired of constantly telling Tengen to put away his toys."

"Hey! Firstly it's a right of passage for a man cave to be a little messy! Secondly!!..." He frowned almost looking as if he was begging. "Can I please get my cake and painting back now?"

"Not until you take out that trash?" She gestured to the overflowing wastebasket that you had filled up with your excessive cleaning. Oops. Again he pouted but this time didn't argue with his wife which left you to finish eating the food that Hinatsuru had given you. Gulping it down to satisfy your hungry stomach. "How is it?"

F/c orbs blinked up to look at her before you smiled. "It was good thanks! I was really hungry there. Sorry again for the clean up."

"Don't apologize. I for one think it looks great. Unfortunately Tengen likes to drag his feet when it comes to cleaning out his studio. The amount of times I found empty paint tubes just laying around is ungodly." You giggled at her as she tilted her head at you. "Now would be a good time to touch up your makeup before he gets back. Do you mind?"

"Sure!"

The grumpy painter returned grumbling to himself and carrying the painting in his hands carefully, walking in to his wife holding your chin gently and applying lipstick. It felt a little awkward having her so close like that and she seemed to be smiling gently at something but you brushed it off as her just redoing your makeup.

"I think I can sit for another two hours before I have to leave," you said once you were free from her grip. "It gets darker sooner in winter and I don't feel like trying to drive through snow in the dark."

"That's fine," Tengen said without looking at you and just rummaging around the newly organized shelf for his paint brushes again. "Can you come back tomorrow? I'm off then too."

"Sure. Um..about how long will it take to finish this painting?"

He hummed. "Well...if you can only come to pose on weekends, then it'll probably take around the end of this month with the details I'm envisioning. Hell. I'll probably be done with it before New Year's!"

"Oh! I can do that then."

"Perfect!" He gathered a few things using his long apron as a basket to hold everything he needed as turned. "The only thing you need to do right now is just smile."

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