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rboooks · 11 months

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Child Support Part 2

Tim watched the other young heroes as they tried to look around the watch tower without seeming like they were. He's been here plenty of times, but the rest of the Teen Titans and a few of the Young Justice hasn't.

Much was due to the older heroes leaving the younger ones alone. Some not taking them seriously enough to welcome them at the big HQ as much as that made his blood boil.

They were taking the same risks. They were fighting the same good fights. Why was their age the main reason they weren't treated equally?

Some teenage heroes weren't part of a team per see, but they always answered when a call was sent. For example, Cass and Steph were present, speaking softly to Static Shock. Damian was standing next to Jon and his little friend Colin who was just getting into the swing of the hero business.

Bruce almost bit through his tongue when Damian told him Abuse would be joining Robin on parol, and he could do nothing to stop them. (Tim felt like he was watching Damian tell Bruce a paraphrased version of "But Daddy, I love him!" and it kept him smiling for weeks)

It was wild to see almost every young hero in one place. He doesn't think this happened since the last time Justice Leauge got mind controlled and almost destroyed the whole world.

"Any idea why we're here?" Kon asks to his right, lowering his shade to stare at the Outlaws. Jason's team stood to the side chatting iddly while cleaning over thier weapons.

Kon's always like their punk point of view, and he knows his best friend wants to go over there to talk to them. If it wasn't for the issue of the clone still being mad about what Jason did at the Teen Titans tower. Almost murder was hard to forgive for people outside the Bats.

"None. All I know is that John Constantine sent out a message to every teenage superhero group calling for a meet-up," Tim responds.

Bart whistles with a grimace on his right. "Must be bad if that guy is asking."

"I heard Hawkwoman tell Superman that she was worried and wasn't sure she wanted anyone of us mixed up in Constantine's mistakes." Cassie chimes in from where she leans on the couch. The three turn to her as she lowers her voice, attempting to keep the others from hearing. "Batman told her off for it."

"Batman did?" Tim asks, surprised.

Cassie shrugs, throwing a bit of her blond hair over her shoulder. "As much Batman can emote anyway."

Yeah, that sounded about right. Though it must have been something Bruce found disrespectful. His dad usually never reprimanded strangers unless they were saying something or doing something that sounded far too much like bigotry to him.

But to apply that to Constantine? Someone, Bruce generally disliked communicating with because the man tended to backstab his contacts? Yes, Constantine wasn't evil, but he wasn't pleasant either.

If Bruce had magical issues, he tended to contact Zatanna first.

Just then, the watch tower's zeta beams activate. Everyone who gathered turns to the teleporting pads where Constantine appears looking, for lack of a better word, absolutely exhausted. Even Tim knows that his eye bags aren't that bad, and he's usually going hours without sleep.

"Oh good, you all made it," Constantine says, sipping from a mug and wearing nothing but sweatpants and what looks like a nightgown. His signature trench coat was nowhere in sight. "I'm going to be quick about this. I need a team of young heroes willing to accept my son into their fold."

The room is dead silent. Constantine sighs. "Look, I've tried everything, but it's like Danny is allergic to laying low. He fought with a demon the other day over a child's doll- which you all know happens. People get haunted! But Danny refused to do it the right way, and now I had to beat off the demon's marriage proposal at least ten times. Not to mention his lack of social skills! No matter which one I stick him in, he can't seem to make friends in school. He got shoved into a locker on his first day! I thought that was an American exaggeration of the telly!"

Constantine pauses and takes a large gulp of whatever he's drinking before continuing his rant. A hand runs through his already messy hair, leaving it in bigger disarray as he speaks. "He's behind in terms of trends and technology cause his other father raised him outside of the typical timelines, so sometimes it's like talking to someone from the early two thousand, and other times it's like he's a modern Victorian era lad. His powers are also all over the place because the ectoplasm in our world is thicker, so when he breathes it in, he losses his control. Just the other day he accidentally made himself fly through our ceiling and almost reach the atmosphere before I was able to bring him back down."

A few of the fliers in the room wince. Jon nods and whispers under his breath, though his voice carries in the silence. "Yeah, been there before. Flying can be scary if you don't know how to come down."

Johns glances around at all the young people, eyes showing a tad bit of desperation. "He's sad all the time now, and I don't know how to help. If working with you could help him make friends, I would be grateful. He's a great kid. He just needs to adjust."

Tim had no idea what to do with this information; how do you respond to arguably one of the strongest Justice League Darks' heroes asking for a play date for his son?

"How old is the child?" Damian's voice rings out. Colin's hand is attached to his sleeve, a slightly nervous smile on the boy's face as he attempts to hide from the staring heroes behind his brother. Tim bets that if he wasn't wearing the domino mask, they would be able to see slight tears in Colin's eyes.

Damian's other hand goes across his body to cover Colin's hand, and Tim fights a shit-eating grin. His eyes lock with Jason, and the two send each other knowing grins. Looks like Bruce did have to worry about Damian having a secret boyfriend.

He can't wait to tease Damian later.

"He's fourteen....or well, physically?" Constantine answers eagerly.

"What does that mean?" Kon asks this time.

"Okay, so he's half human, half ecto-being. He sired him with his other father, Clockwork, which was only four years ago in this dimension, but since he was raised in the Infinite Relemas, times move differently there? " The British man says, and Raven goes rigid.

"Clockwork, as in the most powerful Ancient?" She asks, looking horror-struck when Constantine nods.

Before anyone asked what that meant, the zeta tubes activated again without permission. Someone had hacked into their systems which were ten levels bad. Everyone naturally fell into a fighting stance, only to blink when a teenage boy stepped out with a loud excited screech.

"We're in space!" The teenager runs to one of the windows, pressing his hands and face up against the glass. "This is amazing!"

Tim only relaxes his muscles once Constantine clears his throat. "Chum...what are you doing here?"

"Oh. One of your curse rocks things started proposing to me again, so I ran out of the House of Mysteries. Thought I see what you were up to." The teenager says, turning around with a smile and utterly freezing at the sight of the gathered heroes.

He had dark hair, wide blue eyes, and the most adorable face Tim had ever seen. Not as sexy as Bernard, of course, but darn close. Judging by the looks of anyone attractive to males, most heroes thought the same.

"Um...hi?" He says, offering the Godsmack teenagers a helpless little shrug. "I'm Danny Constantine."

"It is a pleasure, Constantine." Damian marches over to him with all his little twelve-year-old authority. He barely reaches Danny's chest. "I shall look forward to working with you. Are you formally trained in combat or strictly magic?"

"Um...oh, I can throw a punch or two? I'm mostly self taught. I rely on my powers a lot?" Danny fumbles to answer throwing a desperate look at his presumed father.

"No matter. I shall have you begin training. My Beloved also needs to work on his form. There is no shame in this" Damian nods, and Constantine lets out a large sigh of relief. He jogs over to place a hand on his son's shoulder, giving him a one-sided hug

"Yes, Danny, you will join Robin, Superboy, and Abuse on missions. They agree to help you settle and get used to your ghost powers." Constantine smiles. "I'll give me time to discourage all those idiots from trying to trick you into marriage."

"Oh...okay. It's nice to meet you all. Please call me Phantom on the field. Um, are you the team leader?" He asks Damian as the three youngest boys lead him further into the watch tower.

Constantine watches them go with the brightest smile he's ever seen on the man's face. He looks back to the group, who were barely starting to pick their jaws off the floor and makes a shooing motion with his hand. "You lot are dismissed."

Then the man vanishes in a green portal.

There is a ringing silence until Barts blurts out. "I'm pretty sure this is where the Phantom Fan Club first formed. A historical moment."

Tim wants to take a nap.

( Part 1 )

#dcxdp crossover #dc x dp crossover #Child Support #Part 2 #John is trying his best #He's fighting off suitors from his son #Despite being very pretty Danny has a hard time making friends #He's the oldest in Damian's new team #I found the ship Damian/Colin the other day and I love it

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leviathanspain · 1 year

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Can you write a Benedict Bridgerton fluff oneshot where Colin is best friends with the reader’s twin brother (and she with Daphne and Eloise) and Colin let’s it slip that he’s accidentally seen the reader in her nightgown amongst his and Anthony’s teasing of Benedict’s long-standing feelings for her and the reader happens to overhear?

little things

benedict bridgerton x reader

synopsis: the brothers teasing has finally made its mark, and benedict can’t hold himself back anymore

━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━━

colin, anthony and benedict greeted you and your twin brother as you arrived to the bridgerton household. the bridgerton sisters followed, daphne and eloise smiling brightly at you as you returned their smile.

your twin brother, ernest, was swept up by the bridgerton boys. you turned back to raise an eyebrow at him, “be back soon! and nothing out of the sorts, i mean it, bridgertons!” you tried to use your best, stern voice as your brother was shoved out the door, most likely going to the local gentlemen’s club.

your brother was usually sent home in a carriage, practically spilling out the door with how drunk he was. it was funny the first few times, but now it was anything but.

daphne and eloise took you by the arms, leading you to their library for some discussion on the latest novel you have all been reading. “don’t worry about ernest, he’s a good boy, and colin will take him home as always.” daphne tried to comfort you, but thinking about it, it didn’t make it any better.

a few drinks in, and ernest excused himself. the three brothers watched him walk steadily out to find the bathroom before turning to each other.

“he’s a delight.” anthony remarked with a smile before downing his drink.

colin laughed, “i’ll say. his sister is turning out to be an even better one!” he swung his rum around in his glass, taking a sip while he turned a coy eye to anthony.

anthony picked up what colin was putting down and nodded firmly, “yes. a good set of childbearing hips, and she has a good set of lungs on her.” he raised his eyebrows at benedict, who knew exactly what his brothers were doing.

“i’ll have you two know, that lady y/n is a very intelligent woman. a good set of brains on her.” he nodded, happy with his answer as he swung a drink down.

“a good set of something for sure.” colin pursed his lips, “the modiste didn’t use too much fabric on her nightgown. i could practically see everything.” he nudged anthony who nearly spat out his drink.

benedict stopped moving completely, “what?”

colin shrugged, “her hips, every curve, every nook, every cranny. she’s gorgeous, brother. i understand why you fancy her so.” anthony quieted the conversation just as ernest walked back into the room, “listen boys, let’s call it a night shall we?”

you rushed down the steps of the bridgerton house as you heard the carriage pull up. you bid your farewell to the sisters as you walked out into the fresh london air.

the door to the carriage opened and out fell the three bridgerton brothers. anthony greeted you first, bidding you a quick goodbye as he strolled inside. colin did the same, avoiding your eyes, strangely, he booked it inside.

benedict took slow steps as you approached the carriage, his hands in his pocket as you stopped before him.

“my, my, sir bridgerton. i see that the night has served us both well.” you smiled, and benedict returned the smile, “only has it gotten better that you illuminate it once more with your smile.” he complimented you, “have a good night, lady y/n.” he grabbed your hand, gently placing a kiss on it before strolling inside.

as you hopped into the carriage, you saw your brother, slightly less drunk than previous times, still smiling widely though as he greeted you.

“sister- didn’t you have a coat on when we arrived?” he blinked once before throwing his head back, closing his eyes with a groan.

you looked down and realized he was right. you were wearing a long sleeved dress, and didn’t even realize you had forgotten your cost. good thing the carriage hadn’t pulled off yet!

you stepped down, and ran back up the steps to the bridgerton house. a maid let you in, and you ran back to the library to get your coat.

you found it sitting in the chair that you had been in, and you shucked it on.

you tiptoed out of the library and past anthony’s study, which had the door cracked open. as you approached, you heard loud voices echoing off the walls. it was the brothers, and whatever it was about, was clearly heating them up.

“-you can’t just say things like that, colin! you know how he feels about her!” one voice said, and you deciphered it to be anthony.

colin, you assumed, cleared his throat, matching the volume level, “i am drunk! and it’s about time he admits he loves her, im tired of trying to make him jealous enough to do it! i might as well marry her if that’s what it’ll take!” it was clearly about a girl, and it seemed like it was about benedict too.

benedict, the last one to say anything was sighing deeply, “you are so lucky i didn’t punch you out right there. how could you admit to seeing her in her nightgown?! she was indecent, and yet you joke about it like it’s something funny? y/n is a lady, her twin brother is our best friend!” benedict shouted back at colin, and you realized with a pang, that it was you they were talking about.

“fine, im sorry benedict. but you need to admit things to yourself. this isn’t just some childhood crush, she’s debuting next season, make sure y/n becomes your wife.” colin exited the room first, and as the door opened, your shocked face on the other side of it, it was like his face was lit on fire.

“y/n- lady y/n! i thought you left?” colin pushed the door open and his brothers stood up to meet him at the door.

you looked at him and raised an eyebrow, “i left my coat behind.” you looked at the three brothers and nodded firmly, “very well. i shall depart now.” you gave colin a glare before you started to walk away.

as you walked, you heard them whispering amongst themselves, and as you reached the door, a slap echoed into the hall and you stopped for a moment until you continued on.

as you walked down the steps to the carriage, a shout had you turning around.

“y/n!” all formalities had been thrown out as benedict stepped down to meet you, he panted slightly and caught his breath, “my brothers-“ he laughed, “are horrible.” he finished, “i apologize for what you heard, if you did hear anything but,” he reached down and grabbed your hands in his, taking you by surprise, “i suppose i needed this.” he chuckled slightly, “in order to do this.”

leaning forward, his lips met yours in a kiss, taking you in his arms, you kissed him back roughly. suddenly, it dawned on you where you were, and you inhaled sharply, pulling back.

“mr. bridgerton.” you couldn’t help but smile as you fiddled with the buttons of his shirt. his hand lifted your chin slightly and you stared for the first time in those big bright eyes, “i suppose you’ll see me tomorrow morning.” he let you go now, and you smiled, “i suppose so.”

he turned and watched you walk to your carriage, your brothers drunk slurs floating up to benedict’s ears as he carried himself back inside, his brothers already cheering from the doorway.

#benedict bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton smut #benedict bridgerton angst #benedict bridgerton fluff #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton angst #bridgerton fluff #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton smut

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ostrichchariot · 11 months

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"That's dumb," says Karna. "I think that's dumb. Why can the knight just jump over shit? What's so special about him, huh?"

"Just, uh. Just good at moving, I guess," says Colin, taking the black rook and placing it on his side of the table. It sits there, solid, beside the haphazard array of pawns and a single bishop.

Karna pouts a little. In front of her, on the table, there sit three white pawns, all stood perfectly in line. "'Good at moving.' Urgh. So am I. He's not special." She frowns, and moves a pawn two spaces forward. Colin winces involuntarily, and she glares at him. "What? What did I do?"

"So... I may have forgotten to mention this one. I, uh. I didn't really think it would come up for, uh. Longer than this. To be honest." He gives her a slightly wary look. "You... you ever heard of 'en passant'?"

"'In passing' in Fructeran," she says brusquely. "Now explain."

"Now- ok, I promise I'm not making this one up-" He moves a white pawn to just behind hers, which he smoothly plucks from the board and sets down amongst the cluster of other pieces in front of him.

There is a short silence.

"Are you kidding me," says Karna, voice flatter than the void of space, empty and silent and oh, so deep, and-

"To be fair, that- that's probably one of the stupidest rules I know. If that helps?" says Colin.

"Fine. Fine!" she says. "Sure."

"You know," says Colin delicately, "I could still-"

"No," snaps Karna. "You will not play without a queen." She glares at him with even more ferocity than usual, and lowers her voice to a dangerous drawl. "When I win. If I suspect even for a second that you went easy on me?" Her lip curls into a smirk. "Oh, that would be that last thing you ever did."

"Sure," says Colin. "I mean, sure. I just think it would make the game a bit more fun for you while you're learning. You know?"

Karna rolls her eye. "I want to lose."

"...What?" There is suddenly a deep, unsettling feeling in the pit of his stomach.

"I want to lose," she says. "Because it doesn't matter." She grasps his forearms and stares into his eyes, as though willing him to understand. "I want so badly to know what it feels like for losing not to matter. I want to know the loss that is an annoyance, not an ache, not a scar, not a slit throat or a knife in the gut and bleeding out on the pavement."

The hands holding him start to weaken. Rot starts to creep up her neck.

Her pupils are dark voids filled with spinning blades.

"It was too much," she says. "I was so tired. You saw." Her gaze is level, and he remembers running away, and running away, and running away, and looking back. "I was holding on to the edge for so long."

Colin wants to say something. He doesn't know what to say.

"But you can't hold on forever."

And she lets go.

---

He wakes up, and it is still dark, and he is alone.

He never knew her that well, but- she would have been good at chess, he thinks, if she had ever had a chance to learn. Not straight away, of course, but- in time.

No point in dwelling on it. He doesn't want to risk turning into Raphaniel, and- ok, that's another whole thing he's really not interested in delving into right now.

But- she held on for so long.

It seems like the least he can do, to make sure no one else ever has to stare into the void and cling to life so desperately that the muscle of their fingers rots down to bone.

#dimension 20 #the ravening war #colin provolone #karna solara #my writing #the ravening war spoilers

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hiyyihrts · 2 months

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The way he starts the scene so intently looking at her with not admiration but almost gloating, in a sense, because he’s told her that he missed her and her letters, so of course Penelope being Penelope she’ll just faun and look bashful and maybe mumble a line out to him, but it shifts to a 180 when she starts saying she’s the laughing stock of the ton and that she knows he’d never court her no matter what she ‘changes’ about herself to fit the ton’s needs and wants. You can see he avoids her gaze and looks anywhere but directly into her eyes, because she’s no longer praising him and awarding his own thoughts by amusing him. I think here he realizes that what she’s saying is true and he’s embarrassed/maybe even a little ashamed to admit that he’s also thought that or thought something similar. But I think he also realizes, once she says he’s cruel and just like the rest of the ton, that he’s taken Penelope for granted. She’s always indulged in his adventures and whims and travels, all of his family troubles, all of his internal-self issues, etc. and that she’s always been nothing but “kind” to him, when in reality she wasn’t revealing everything she probably wanted to say or felt at the time, because how could she ever hurt Colin or do something to take the good-natured smile and easy going wiles away from him? His Penelope would never do that! But she’s becoming her own person for once and entering into her own agency, and he’s not sure how to maneuver through it, let alone with her through it. So I feel as though he looks at her with a sense of shame and regret as she walks away- so much he wants to deny and refute but not being able to because he believes some of it to be true as she believes as well.

#me rambling into the void for no reason this morning #bridgerton #polin #bridgerton s3 #bridgerton season 3 #romancing mister bridgerton #colin x penelope #penelope featherington #penelope x colin #colin bridgerton #out of the shadows

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theromcommotel · 10 months

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HARRY POTTER HCS !!

FIRST “I LOVE YOU” !!

prompt: harry potter characters and their first “i love you”s in relationships

characters included: harry potter, ron weasley, hermione granger, draco malfoy, ginny weasley, seamus finnigan, fred weasley, george weasley

warnings: you and seamus smoking in seamus’ part, swearing, physical abuse in george’s part

harry j. potter…

who said it: harry

when: 5th year

“cmon… just a little bit more..” harry cooed patiently, hands placed on your hips. “forget it, harry. i don’t think i’ll ever get it right.” you sighed, wanting to throw your wand down on the ground.

dumbledore’s army had just begun merely a few sessions ago, and no matter how hard you tried, you couldn’t get your patronous just right.

maybe it was because you upset professor dolores umbridge today and pushed her far beyond her limits (not even on purpose, for that matter). or maybe it’s because colin creevey was stuck way too far up your arsehole whenever you would do something wrong when it came to today’s D.A session.

“well, maybe i can give you a happy memory to think about.” harry suggested. “how on earth do you plan to do that?” you questioned, wary of what he may do.

“maybe…like this.”

and with that, harry began to scan your lips with his, feeling for all the fine details that no one else would get to see but himself.

harry felt you smile against his own lips before pulling away, with a lopsided grin smearing his cheeks.

“i love you.” harry smiled, sounding as if he’s been waiting a century to say those words to you.

“i love you too.”

ron b. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 3rd year

“oh no!! oh no no no..!!” the ginger boy roared as he was being dragged by the foot by the black-furred dog (unbeknownst to him, which was sirius black), “i can’t die yet!! i haven’t told (y/n) how much i love her yet!!”

“you bloody moron, she’s right here!!” the shorter bushy haired girl replied, slightly jealous it was her best friends name and not her own.

“i love you, (y/n)! if i die, i promise my ghost will haunt you!!” ron shouted before being dragged away out of sight.

“i love you too!” you yelped, hoping he could still hear you.

hermione j. granger…

who said it: you

when: 7th year

“i know this isn’t much… but i wanted to be able to do something for you for our anniversary.” hermione said, rubbing her neck in pure embarrassment.

you, hermione, harry, and ron were on a hunt to look for all of voldemort’s horcurxes, and because of that, you all were staying in a rubbish tent in the woods.

the tent was empty for the most part, other than the small radio player that had muggle romance music on it.

“harry and ron are out of our hair…well for now anyway. i told them to go look for anything that could be useful, i just wanted to have a nice 3 months you.”

“you kicked them out for me?” you asked, disbelief leaving your throat.

“well yes — and i know it’s not much but-” the brunette would’ve continued if you didn’t interrupt her, and she gives a slight pout because of it.

“but it is much, it is something ‘mione! it is because i love you.”

“i- uhm. repeat yourself, please?”

“i love you, hermione.”

draco l. malfoy…

who said it: him

when: 6th year

“isn’t that right, ms. (y/n)?” the barely human wizard, voldemort, said, looking at you from the other side of table.

you gulped quietly, your shoulders stiffening. “yes, sir.” you murmured, glancing at the platinum blonde boy next to you before averting your gaze.

you and draco grew up together - as your mothers were very close in their teenage years, your fathers, not so much. but they got along okay.

when draco first became part of the death eaters, his mother decided it’d be easiest to have you there, to make it a little less hard on him.

“excuse me for a moment.” draco mumbled, somewhat abruptly, as lucius and the lord were in the middle of a conversation. draco stood up within the blink of an eye, and sped walked out of the room.

“would you be a dear and check on him for me, honey?” narcissa leaned over and whispered in your ear, as you were seated between draco and his mother.

you gave a small half-smile with a nod, as you politely excused yourself, afraid of what voldemort could do if you had done it in a way of which he didn’t like.

you went around the halls of malfoy manor, the walls of which most of your childhood memories took place, as sad as that is.

you saw a crack in the door of draco’s room, and you opened the door a tad more

draco said there, looking down at his folded hands, not saying anything.

“are you okay?” you asked, even though you already knew the answer.

“those meetings…get to me, sometimes.” the blonde mumbled, his voice cracking slightly.

“me too..” you answered, rubbing your hand up and down his back, as you sat next to him.

“thank you, for always being here. i’ve spent my whole life with you, i never want to let you go.” draco said, giving a small smile.

“i won’t ever leave you behind, okay?”

“this is exactly why i fell in love with you all those years ago.”

“wait…what?” you denied, your voice quiet.

“you heard me, i love you (y/n).”

ginevera m. weasley…

who said it: her

when: 5th year (well 4th year for her)

“hey (y/n)!” a familiar, high, squeaky voice called out to you, sounding a bit distant.

“oh, hi, ginny.” you half smiled, looking down at the younger girl.

“i need to talk to you, now.” ginny asked — well demanded, but she meant to ask.

you’ve known ginny long enough at this point to know sometimes, when she wants to ask a question, it can accidentally turn into a demand. especially, when she’s nervous.

“okay, no problem.” you reported, knowing exactly what she was going to say.

she grabs your wrist with a firm grip — but not firm enough for your to be hurt. and walks you down to a more empty side of the hogwarts express.

“i love you. and quite frankly, i hate it when you spend more time with my brothers and less time with me because it’s not fair, i fancy you!” the smaller ginger insisted, with a small stomp of her foot to show she meant what she said.

“i love you too, don’t worry, gin.” you spoke, as you tucked a string of hair behind her ear, that was before in the middle of her face.

she gave a lopsided grin before happily skipping off and giving a sing-songy goodbye.

seamus d. finnigan…

who said it: him

when: 4th year

the yule ball of the 1994 school year was slowly coming to a close, but you were unable to find where your date had ran off to, one moment he was with his best friend, dean thomas — and now you have no bloody clue where he is.

there was only one placed you hadn’t looked yet — the astronomy tower.

you begin your walk up the tower of many staircases and you hear some intense coughing the higher and higher you reach.

before your eyes, you see your boyfriend — or date, or technically boy friend, as the relationship between the two of you is a bit complicated, with a cigarette between his fingers.

“hey seamus.” you say, as you sit down next to him, leaning into his touch.

“hi doll.” he says, grinning as he puts an arm around your waist.

“can i smoke with you?”

“absolutely not, angel!” seamus gasps, shocked, putting a dramatized hand to his chest, his mouth open a gap.

“huh? why not?” you asked, now just confused.

“because! i love you! i’m not letting a gorgeous goddess inhale that shit!” seamus replied, now tossing his cigarette away into the distance.

“you love me?”

“with every inch my body stands.”

fred g. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 5th year (3rd book/movie)

“i don’t know how you could even do this, i don’t know what half of this is supposed to to mean..” your ginger boyfriend said, cuddled up into your side, as the two of you studied for the following potions exams.

“well, to make it’s quite simple, it’s just seeing it on paper is the hard part.” you said, nudging him slightly, to make sure he wouldn’t fall asleep again.

“oh, how so?” he asked.

“well actually you take the-”

and before you could get any further, your boyfriend pecked you on the lips.

“sorry, at first i was interested and then i just didn’t care anymore.” fred said with a chuckle.

“fred gideon weasley!!”

“i’m sorry, i love you, does that make it better?”

“i… yes.”

george g. weasley…

who said it: him

when: 7th year (5th book/movie)

i mustn’t make mistakes any longer.

the words on your arm continued to ring in your ear, like the tangy feeling on your tongue after eating spicy foods.

none of this would’ve happened if you didn’t snap at the new d.a.d.a teacher - dolores umbridge.

the torturous (literally), cruel woman put you through so much pain in one detention.

don’t get me wrong, you’ve gotten detention once in 2nd year, but this could never compare.

the words on your arm were the ones that made you cry terrifying sobs as you had to continue to write and write and write - thanks to your low physical pain tolerance and somewhat sensitive heart, you just couldn’t bare it.

sprinkles of raindrops began to form in your eyes, they ground onto the table you were sitting at, as you tried to rub your eyes before anyone happened to notice.

“hey, love, are you okay?” george weasley - your boyfriend asked, scurrying over to you.

your arm was angled in the correcting lighting and point of view to where the taller ginger could see your scars perfectly.

“blimey!” your boyfriend shouted, pointing, before madam prince gave him a stern shooshing.

“what happened?”

you clung onto him immediately, sobbing quietly,

“hey love — it’s okay, i love you, i’m here and i always will be.”

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rqgnarok · 11 months

Text

standing ovation - jamie tartt

fandom: ted lasso

wc: 2321

warnings: mentions of jamie’s dad and DV, spoilers for ted lasso’s mom city. reader uses female pronouns.

summary: reader sneaks into training grounds after richmond’s win against man city. seeing her is just what jamie needs.

author’s note at the end!

There’s something in the air.

Jamie’s pretty sure Will sprayed some lavender shit all over the locker room again but that’s not quite what he means– he’s said goodbye to every single one of his teammates and all the coaches– and the locker room is now his and his alone. He locks away his dad’s ghost by locking up his phone, the simple message doing wonders to finish lifting that weight off his shoulders.

He wasn’t at the game. Or maybe he was, Jamie realizes now that it doesn’t really matter. A part of him will never stop looking over his shoulder whenever he visits his hometown for his dickwad of a father, but the older, bigger part of him knows Coach was right– his motivation doesn’t come from hating his dad anymore and it doesn’t have to. His forgiveness is for himself, for the little boy that had to build a mask to save himself from his dad, and for the man he is today because of him– and because of his mum, Keeley, Roy, Ted, his teammates–

The standing ovation at the end was more of a benediction than he’d like to admit. Everything about his hometown made him feel prickly; like he was a virus the town was doing its best to reject, and other than his quick visit to his mom Jamie expected the whole thing to be a disaster. The kids on the street, the people on social media, the rude assholes in the bleachers– Jamie thought that was all he was gonna get. Blind, thoughtless hatred despite Jamie trying his best.

He remembers Roy getting a standing ovation on his last game, while Jamie was still wearing Man City blue. He’d been appalled, unable to discern the possibility of someone hating you so much they respected you. All he’d ever gotten– from his dad, rival teams, his own team– had been everything except respect.

But they’d clapped for him. They thought him deserving of something precious and somehow it feels like permission. He can play for himself. He can come home without his dad’s ghost belittling him for not turning out the way he expected him to.

Even Manchester hasn’t been home in a long time. Sure, his mom and Simon are there, but Richmond has his family, too– his friends, his teammates, his–

“Excuse me, I’m looking for my boyfriend. 5’9 not quite 6 foot, sexy as hell, the most fantastic football player to ever walk on Earth?”

Jamie’s lips involuntarily twist up as he glances at the door. (Y/N)’s a sight wearing her Richmond TARTT jersey, looking disheveled and flushed like the rest of the city probably is right now after their win tonight.

Jamie doesn’t give a shit about the rest of the city, though. At least not right now. He cares about his girl sneaking in (with Keeley and Roy’s permission and advice, probably) to see him, normal sleep schedule be damned.

He laughs, loud and unrestrained joy lighting up his features as he hobbles towards his girlfriend, letting himself be enveloped in a crush-tight embrace.

“Did ya watch it?” he wonders, forgoing his usual shy demeanor whenever (Y/N) praises him and just allowing his excitement to overflow, arms going around (Y/N)’s waist and hoisting her off the ground.

“Did I watch it, he asks,” (Y/N) scoff is downplayed by her big grin and the way she wraps her arms around Jamie’s neck as he spins her around, fucked up ankle be damned. “I couldn’t take my fucking eyes off of you, Jamie, oh, my God–”

She’s kissing him deeply, unable to contain her excitement.

“You’re so fucking brilliant,” she whispers against his mouth, her hands at the nape of his neck making him shiver into her embrace, unable to get enough. “Oh, Jamie, that assist– the entire play for Colin’s goal? Your goal–”

“It was for you,” he tells as he drops her off, cupping her face in his hands and cheeks hurting with how wide he’s smiling. “I couldn’t celebrate but it was for you. For you and me mum, you were with me on the pitch the whole time–”

He stumbles a little as he drops her on the ground and (Y/N) tenses in his arms. She looks him over, suddenly worried. “Oh, shit. Your ankle, dumbass, are you okay? Fuck, did I–”

“Angel,” the nickname has her melting almost immediately just like he thought it would, a five-word weapon he’s never gotten tired of wielding. (Y/N) pouts at him, still concerned, and Jamie can’t have that, he kisses the expression off her face immediately. It should be illegal for her to be sad, no, sir. “‘s not even a sprain. It was probably the panic of bein’ in the same place as me dad, to be honest.”

Something steely flashes through her eyes, there and gone in a second, at the mention of Jamie’s dad. (Y/N)’s never been anything other than kind about it, but Jamie doesn’t doubt she’d beat the old fart up if she were given the chance.

The thought only makes him smile.

“Did you? See him?” she wonders cautiously. She’s touching him again after her moment of hesitation over his injury, hands doing soothing motions up and down his sides. Jamie fights off a shiver.

“Nah,” he says simply as if the thought of crossing paths with him didn’t have him toeing the line of a panic attack the entire three days they were in Manchester. “I don’t know if he was there, and if he was, I didn’t see him. I don’t think I care anymore. It’s for the best, really.”

(Y/N)’s expression brightens, though they both know they’re not done talking about it. Jamie wishes it could be as easy as turning off his phone and forgetting about his dad, but his skin already itches a little with the idea of getting a text back from him. He’s also no doubt that (Y/N) will hold him throughout it all.

“I did see me mum.”

“How is my favorite Tartt?” she teases.

“Happy,” Jamie says softly, always the most important thing to consider when it comes to his mother. Ever since he was a toddler and he gained acknowledgment of his dad’s actions; after an especially gruesome argument that ended with his dad breaking a few photo frames and plates, stumbling his way out of the apartment, and slamming the door shut, Jamie would climb on his mom’s lap and wipe her tears as best he could with his tiny clumsy baby fingers. “Yeah, she was real happy. And for me, too. Even before the match, she was happy to see me, happy to… jus’ happy.”

“That’s good, sweetheart,” she threads her fingers through Jamie’s hair to keep it off his face, his headband lost somewhere in his lockers or amongst the rest of the dirty laundry. He’ll have to tell Will to watch out for it, he’s a little attached to it after the night he’s had.

Jamie’s usually not the one to believe in lucky garments or charms but– well. He feels pretty lucky right now; that (Y/N) saw some worth in him when they met and makes the choice to love him and come home to him, day after day, whatever the outcome may be.

(Y/N) looks at him adoringly like she knows what he’s thinking. “Did’ya get your wings back, then?”

Jamie grasps her hand in his and turns to kiss the inside of her wrist, only slipping a little bit of tongue. “Nah. They was never gone. All I needed was a little help to see.”

He frowns before (Y/N) can answer. “I was gonna say something stupid like ‘you’re me wings’ but that’s disgusting and I hate it. I would never say something like that. ‘m not Roy.”

(Y/N)’s laugh is surprised and comes deep from her belly. “Are you telling me Roy Kent’s a secret romantic?”

“Big old softie, that tosser,” he rolls his eyes. “He snuck you in for me, didn’t he? That’s all you need to know about–”

(Y/N) shuts him up with a kiss just because she can, and they’re both smiling too hard for it to be a proper one.

She says “He likes you. He’s proud of you. We’re all so proud of you,” while peppering kisses all over his face, landing on his cheeks, nose, temple, jaw, and corner of his mouth. “You’re so, so good, Jamie, I love you so much.”

“I love you, too,” he says, because there’s not gonna be a single time in which she tells him that and he doesn’t reciprocate. “Mum said that, too. And Keeley and Roy. And Coach, too, I guess, in his own way. I wouldn’t have been able to do it without them.”

“I can’t believe I missed it,” (Y/N) pouts and beats herself up over it for the thousandth time. Jamie presses a kiss to the space between her eyes for the thousandth time in response. “I should’ve been there, I should’ve told my boss to go to hell–”

“You’re here,” he tells her, shaking her a little by the shoulders and looking her over like he can’t quite believe it. That she’s here in the locker room, in his life, loving him like he’s always desperately wished for but never thought he’d deserve. “What was I gonna do, put my dumb ankle into ice and sit alone in the dark?”

“‘m sure Roy and Keeley would be here drinking champagne with you if I wasn’t here.”

“And what could we be doing that is keeping them away right now?” he raises his brows, sneaking a hand down her back lower, lower, lower–

(Y/N) slaps his chest, though a gleam in her eye tells him she’s not saying no to anything. “You’re…” she drifts off.

He smirks cockily. “Unbelievable?”

(Y/N) shakes her head imperceptively. “Nah. I always knew you could do it. But you’re breathtaking, I’ll give you that. As if your ego needs it.”

Jamie’s mouth softens into a smile, soft and apologetic. “I’m sorry.”

(Y/N) frowns a little at the sudden shift in conversation. “Whatever for?”

“I’ve been a dick these past couple of weeks–”

He had. (Y/N) won’t let him admit it but he wasn’t lying when he told Roy he wasn’t doing well. Not eating, not sleeping, waving off (Y/N)’s concern with a little too cold shoulder. It made him feel a little too much like his dad, and that thought only dragged him further down.

It had been (Y/N) who suggested Jamie pay a visit to his mom while in town for the game, and when he’d mentioned this to her she’d smiled knowingly, ran a hand through his hair, and made him promise an introduction soon.

“You were anxious,” she corrects him with a shake of the head, won’t let him speak ill of himself when all he did was have a normal, human reaction to a very triggering situation. “And I’ve been worried about you but you don’t have to apologize, Jamie. Not to me, not in a million years.”

“Alright,” he says, soft and charmed. He soothes his thumb over her knuckles, featherlight. He looks down at their intertwined hands for a beat or two, gently swinging them back and forth. “Then can I apologize for shutting you out? I know you were only trying to help. I’ll do better next time at letting you know what I need.”

“And I’ll do better at listening,” she assures him with an indulgent smile, using her free hand to trace the Richmond crest of his shirt. “Look at us, communicating and shit.”

Jamie scrunches his nose in faux disgust. “Gross,” he says, but even the facade is too much to keep up when (Y/N) nudges his nose with hers. His lips tilt upwards against his best intentions, drunk on her presence and something inside his chest brimming with unstirred delight.

(Y/N) exhales against his mouth. She hasn’t been more than a few inches away from him since she came down to meet him, always touching him.

“What do you wanna do, huh?” she asks him, pulling at the bottom of his shirt. “Anything you want. We can go get some takeout from that burger place you like or maybe something fancier? We can go home and get some ice on that ankle–”

“It’s nothin’–”

“I’ll believe it when I see it,” by that, she means when the team doctor gives him the all clear and he isn’t limping slightly with every step he takes. It’ll take a while but Jamie can take it, especially if any downtime comes with them spending the days together. She makes a questioning hum. “But we can do that tomorrow, then. Tonight, whatever you want. You’ve earned it.”

And Jamie does feel like a winner. Not only because of the three points they managed to steal from Man City but because he gets to come home to this. He gets to leave his dad behind in Manchester and his mom in safe hands, he gets to accomplish his dream for himself and the people that love him instead of trying to prove someone who hurt him wrong.

He gets to live for himself. Coach Lasso was right, him forgiving his father was the kindest thing he could do for himself.

“I want this,” he murmurs against her temple, breathing in the smell of her perfume and taking in the warmth of her body against his. “I got all I need right here.”

(Y/N) smiles and crowds even closer, pressing a kiss to his jaw.

A beat. Then–

“So that’s a no for a quickie in the locker room, then?”

(Y/N)’s laugh tastes like a standing ovation.

_________

precious little jamiebaby i hope i did you justice ily

i was ready to make an angsty peace about him but mom city left me craving to give him a moment of peace so ta-da! thank you so much for reading and letting me know what you think!

a reminder that commissions and asks are open!

masterlist / ao3 / ko-fi

#leo writes #jamie tartt #jamie tartt imagine #jamie tartt x reader #ted lasso #ted lasso x reader #ted lasso imagine #roy kent #keeley jones #phil dunster #brett goldstein #juno temple #jason sudeikis

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shybiii · 3 months

Text

I love Alice Dyer, but something weird is going on with Alice Dyer.

I'm still puzzling over why she got Sam this job if she knows that it has strange, potentially dangerous happenings. That alone can be explained away by her friend just needing a job and her figuring that the risk is low enough, but thus far one of her main roles in the office has been hindrance of information and discouraging engagement.

(tmagp episode 1 / episode 2)

Sam is, of course, a curious person who wants to engage critically with what's going on. You know who's also clearly understanding that something weird is going on in the department? Colin. If those two chatted a bit, they might actually be able to swap some theories or figure something out.

What is one of the first things Alice does once Sam starts working?

(tmagp episode 1)

She throws a wrench in their potential relationship.

(tmagp episode 3)

They're sure not talking now.

To further this, she also suggests that Sam go over Colin's head and check in with central IT about his "fiddling with the system."

(tmagp episode 3)

Sure, she claims a few moments after that she'd like him to do it because they might take his complaint more seriously as a newbie, but wouldn't a senior employee's concerns hold more gravity than a guy who's been there for a couple of weeks? She also worries that Colin would "pitch a fit" if he found out she did it, but we've heard that Alice is essentially the only person in the office that Colin can stand to be around, so it seems strange that this wouldn't grant her some leeway in that regard.

If Sam had accepted her request, he likely would've gotten in even hotter water with Colin, making it even less likely that they would eventually start talking or sharing information.

She's also discouraging Sam quite a bit about engaging with the Response department.

(tmagp episode 1 / episode 5)

I'm not sure yet if this is malicious or an attempt to protect her friend from knowing too much and subsequently getting black-bagged by the government, but she's definitely less Whimsical Silly than she's letting on.

#tmagp theory #tmagp spoilers #long post #the magnus protocol #the magnus protocol spoilers #alice dyer

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cowgurrrl · 5 months

Text

Something in the Orange

Pairing: Joel Miller x art teacher!reader

Author's note: this might become a mini series idk idk

Summary: A parent-teacher conference leads to trouble [4.0k]

Warnings: no outbreak! au, teacher things, Ellie being a little loner, Joel the Menace making a return, Joel gets both his daughters in this one because it's what he deserves, flirty flirt, i think that's it???

You feel like you've been running a million miles a minute since you got in this morning. The second you could unlock the door, at least three students spilled into your room and chaotically ran to the kiln to collect their most recent pottery projects. One of them ended up shattering (the exact one you warned Colin about, but he didn't listen), and, as per high school custom, they were all screaming about it. You consoled the students just in time for your principal to walk by and ask about lesson plans which made you scramble through your backpack for your notebook even though you knew damn well there wasn't a single lesson plan in there. "Do you always have those lights on?" Principal Martinez asked, gesturing to the room's fairy lights and orange lamps. Leave it to administration to want to avoid art classrooms so much that they don't even know about the Big Light Philosophy.

Since then, it's been class after class. You only have one more period before your planning period and then, finally, the end of the day. There are a hundred things to do, but you can't focus on any of them. You got so caught up in managing your classroom and helping students with the hardest parts of their portfolio work that you almost forgot you had a parent meeting scheduled during your planning period.

Calling in parents for meetings about their children may be your least favorite part of your job. It makes you feel like a bad teacher, and parents usually don't feel great about getting called in on a workday to talk about their kid. Luckily, Ellie's dad, Joel, seemed more than happy to take time to talk about her. You rack your mind for his occupation as you add some detail to a canvas you've been hiding in your office and working on when you can. Was he a blue-collar worker? Or was he another stuck-up Austin transplant parent who's gonna accuse you of lying? He'd make the fifth parent who's made you cry this semester.

A knock on your locked door pulls you from your thoughts, and you quickly put away your painting before answering the door. "I told you she was in here!" One of your students, Dina, announces as she and a posse of three other kids you don't recognize push their way into the room. "Miss, you've gotta take that thing off your door; otherwise, people are gonna think you went home!"

"You mean the sign that says, 'planning period. Do not enter?'" You ask, and she snaps her fingers.

"That's the one." She says as she and her friends start putting their backpacks down at one of your high tables. You sigh and kick the door stopper into the threshold.

"You guys can't stay here. I have a meeting in five minutes."

"With who?"

"None of your business."

"Miss!" Dina acts wounded, and you cross your arms over your chest, your keys jingling around your neck in the process.

"I am an adult with a college degree and the debt to show for it. You are a teenager with a still-developing brain. You have to listen to me," you say. "Wait, whose class are you supposed to be in right now?"

"Mr. Flynn's."

"Guys!" You groan before walking over to your desk and quickly writing up a hall pass for them. "I know you don't like math-"

"No, we don't like Mr. Flynn." Dina cuts you off.

"Or math!" One of her friends adds, and you shoot them a (loving) disapproving look.

"Whatever you don't like, you can't keep hiding out here. Mr. Flynn is two seconds away from trying to get me fired for how often I let his kids in here during class, and I actually like this job, so," you rip the hall pass off the pad and hand it to Dina. As they pack their stuff up, a tall, bearded man steps into your classroom and makes eye contact with you. "Out, out, out! I love you. You're gonna change the world one day, but please get out." You blow them kisses as you usher them out of the room.

"Are you Ellie's art teacher?" He asks, a confused look on his face, and you nod.

"Yes, I am. Sorry about that. They're still figuring out that I have work to get done even when I don't have a class," you explain, a little breathless from running all over the place and getting caught off-guard. You really do try to act a little more professional with parents, but the kids threw you off. The kettle whistling behind your desk doesn't make it any better. "Is there anything I can get you? Coffee? Tea?" You pick up a random mug off your desk but find it full of murky water. "Paint water?"

"Are you allowed to have an electric kettle in here?" He asks, and you laugh nervously as you find a clean mug and your tea box.

"I won't tell if you won't." You say. He stands there awkwardly as you pour yourself some tea, and you realize you didn't pull a chair up for him. "Um, we can sit..." you glance around your messy classroom until you find a clear table and gesture toward it. "Here." He follows your lead, and you take a deep breath as you sit down.

"You gonna be okay?" He asks, the hint of a smirk on his lips. His curly hair looks golden brown in the low light, and his round eyes have a little knowing twinkle. You take another breath to compose yourself and nod.

"Yes. Sorry. It's been a long day."

"Don't worry bout it. I'm sure they run you ragged."

"Is it that obvious?"

"Well, you do have paint in your hair." He says, and panic seizes in your chest. You're never more aware of how crazy your job can be until you meet Real Adults. Even if you can't remember what he does for a living, you still have to admit that you look a little silly next to each other: you, with your paint-stained sunflower dress and markered hands, and him, with his black shirt and jeans. He doesn't have any apparent stains or splatters on his clothes, but he's broad with thick biceps. He must work with his hands or something within that capacity. You clear your throat and try to get back on track with the meeting.

"Uh, so Mr. Miller, the reason I called you here today was to talk to you about Ellie," you start. "First, I just wanna say that she is an amazing student. She always does her work and engages thoughtfully with the material. I really do enjoy having her in class."

"Well, that's certainly good to hear. She talks a whole lot bout this class and you, so... it's nice to place a face to the name," he says, adjusting his position on the stool. "But I have a feelin' you didn't call me down here just to tell me how great my kid is."

"She is great. She's extremely talented, smart, and funny, but she spends more time in my classroom during lunch than anything else. I'm worried about her making friends and finding a community here at school. I've tried convincing her to join the art club, but she's hesitant. During class, she just sits with her headphones in and draws. She really doesn't like talking to anybody but me." You wait for blame to be assigned to you or get lectured, but it never comes. He just sighs, and he deflates a little in his chair.

"She's been through a lot this year. Well, her whole life, really, but 'specially recently," he says dejectedly. "What can I do for her?"

"There's an art show this Friday night here at the school. It'll all be student work from across the district. I thought if maybe you or... whatever adults she has at home came with her to this, she might feel more comfortable talking to her peers or even want to submit some of her own stuff."

"We can do that. I'll get off work early and ask her uncle if he wants to come," he's quick with his solution, and you're a little shocked. You rarely get parents, let alone fathers, who act this swiftly when something is going on with their kids. "Is there anythin' else goin' on that I should know bout?"

"Uh, no. Like I said, she's a great kid. You should be really proud." You say, and the concerned wrinkle between his eyebrows disappears with a proud smile.

"Thank you," he mumbles, suddenly shy. "And thanks for carin' so much bout her. It's nice to know she's got someone lookin' out for her here." You don't know what to say, so you just nod and stare at him. You know, like an idiot. It takes a chuckle from him to snap you out of your thoughts, and blood rushes to your cheeks.

"Yes, of course. She's a good kid." You say.

"You said that already."

"I bet you'd be a little scatterbrained if you were at the mercy of two hundred teenagers all day."

"You're absolutely right. I would be," he says, smirking devastatingly. "Someone ought to get you a coffee or somethin' if you're dealing with all that."

"People like you should go argue with the school board. I'm sure you'd be popular with all the teachers."

"That'd be a first. I think I might've been the least favorite parent for all of my girls' teachers."

"Well, I find that hard to believe."

"Yeah?" He asks, leaning forward just a little, and you nod, smiling. Your brain struggles to come up with something to say, and you're a little embarrassed at your silence, but luckily, your projector saves the day by buzzing loudly and making the picture on the board cut in and out. You mumble a quick apology before getting up and climbing up on a desk to jiggle a piece back into place. You hear Joel curse behind you, and when you turn to see what the problem is, you see him holding his arms out behind you. "Do you stand on desks often?"

"Only every day. I haven't fallen yet this year." You laugh at his exasperated expression and turn back to the projector. It's still making a weird noise, so you move it around a little more, moving the desk under your feet, and Joel stabilizes it with a sigh.

"How long has it been doin' that?"

"Couple months. I keep putting in maintenance requests, but nobody ever comes to fix it."

"I can fix it for ya," he says simply, and you look down at him. "I've got tools in my truck. It wouldn't take long at all."

"Really?" You ask, and he nods.

"It'd make me feel better knowin' you're not almost breakin' your neck every day."

"You mean, standing on a decades-old desk to mess with an ancient piece of equipment isn't OSHA compliant?"

"Please," he says, grabbing your ankle when the desk wobbles under you, and you laugh at his worry. "Let me fix it for you before you give me a heart attack." You think about declining and just putting in another work order, but the likelihood that anyone would actually come and fix it is slim to none. Plus, you really shouldn't be climbing on top of desks every day. You pretend to think it over for a few more seconds just to watch the worry play across his features as his grip on your ankle gets tighter.

"Only if you really mean it."

"I really mean it," he says, offering you his other hand. "Now, would you please get down?"

"Fine." You say and take his hand. You bend to safely get yourself down, but Joel moves his other hand from your ankle to your waist and basically hoists you to the ground. Once your feet touch the floor, he doesn't let you go immediately like he's trying to figure out if you somehow got hurt when he wasn't looking. There's a part of your brain that's aware of how inappropriate this would look to any passersby, but you're also highly aware of how warm his big hand is on your hip.

"Ya alright?" He asks softly, and you nod, taking a conscious step back from his arms.

"Yes, thank you."

"Good," he says, also taking a step back. "Let me go get my tools, and I'll get that fixed for you."

"Perfect. I'll be here." You stand there, staring at each other awkwardly, for another moment before he turns on his heels and walks out of the classroom. The second he's out of your line of sight, you bury your head in your hands and start silently freaking out.

What the fuck are you doing? How did a parent-teacher meeting turn into him hauling you off a desk and offering to fix your projector? Technically, nothing incriminating has happened, and it needs to stay that way. It doesn't matter if you think he's attractive or like how he worries about everything. He's Ellie's dad. Teachers have gotten fired for much less than this, and you're not willing to risk your career because of one guy.

When he gets back with his toolbox, you're sitting at your desk and sorting through assignments like a reasonable adult. He doesn't say anything as he climbs up on the same desk you were standing on and begins messing with the mechanics of the equipment. You each work in silence for a few minutes before a screw clatters to the ground, and he grumbles something under his breath. "Do you mind..." he starts, pointing toward the lost piece.

"Not at all." You cover your anxiety with your chipper teacher voice and search for the screw with your phone flashlight. You find it tucked between canvases, carefully pick it up, and walk over to where he's standing, waiting for him to be ready for it.

"It looks like it's just an old piece in here. I'm sure you can order a new one, and I can come back and install it if ya want," he explains, looking down at you. You probably look stupid just standing there with a tiny screw in your hand, but he doesn't laugh. "D'you mind handing me that tool to your right?" He asks, and you blindly reach for the tool you think he's talking about. "Your other right." He corrects, and you flush in embarrassment.

"Sorry. I never was a very good woodshop student." You say, and he laughs once he has the tool in hand.

"My girls are the same way. Just askin' ‘em to hold a flashlight while I work on their car is like pullin' teeth," he says fondly. "Speaking of which, is there a reason the lights aren't on in here?"

"The lamp light is less harsh, and it helps students focus. Plus, nobody likes coming into a bright classroom first thing in the morning." You explain, and he hums.

"If I'd had a teacher like you growing up, I would've been at school much more than I was."

"You didn't like school?"

"Hated it," he says, opening his hand for the screw. Once you drop the tiny thing into his large palm, he straightens up, and you can barely hear it going back into its rightful place. "'S a miracle I graduated."

"That was me in college."

"Now, I don't believe that for a second."

"Really?" You laugh, and he nods.

"Someone like you, with your pretty dresses and all that empathy, was meant to be a teacher."

"I wasn't always like this," you evade the compliment despite the butterflies in your stomach. "Being a teacher was never on my radar until I graduated. A lot of my life was never on my radar until then." He puts the hood of the projector back on and climbs down from the desk until he's standing in front of you again, wiping his hands on a red handkerchief from his toolbox.

"Well, with the way you carry yourself, I never woulda guessed." He says. He opens his mouth to say something more, but the sharp tone of the bell ringing cuts him off. You jump at the sound and look at the clock as if it were wrong.

"I'm so sorry. Time must've gotten away from me. Thank you so much again, Mr. Miller, for coming in to talk with me and looking at the projector. I hope to see you and Ellie on Friday." You say quickly as the sound of rowdy kids fills the hallway, and you hold your hand out to him. He takes it and squeezes it firmly.

"You can call me Joel. Mr. Miller makes me feel old." He says, and you smile. He doesn't look old, unlike the other dads you've encountered. Sure, he's got some gray at his temples and in his beard, but it suits him.

"Joel, it is then." You resolve. His hand lingers in yours for a little too long before finally pulling away. "Well, Joel, unless you want to elbow through teenagers, I'd suggest you hide out here for a few more minutes." He does happily, even helping you carry supplies to your car once the hallways have cleared out enough. He's a proper gentleman, slinging your backpack over his shoulder and opening doors for you. You part only once everything is in your trunk, and he bids you goodnight with a charming smile that fills your thoughts on your drive home.

Ellie surprises you the next day as you're setting up the classroom. Normally, she isn't in until right before the bell rings, so seeing her this early is a little bit of a shock. The ink staining her hands is not. "Hey, dude. What's going on?" You ask. "Did you get breakfast from the cafeteria today? I heard Mrs. Hodges has those French toast sticks that everyone loves. You can probably get two servings if you run."

"No, I already ate. My dad and uncle had to leave early this morning, so we got breakfast. Speaking of which," she says as she takes off her backpack and pulls a cup of iced coffee out of her water bottle pocket. "This is for you. We didn't know what you liked, so we got a vanilla latte or something."

"Oh, El! You didn't have to do that. Thank you, honey." You say, and she sets it on your desk for you to enjoy once you don't have paintbrushes in hand. "If this is your way of getting a good grade on your piece, I already told you that you have nothing to worry about."

"It wasn't my idea. It was my dad's." She says nonchalantly before moving to the back of the classroom to get her sketch book. You, however, are confused and secretly pleased that Joel thought of you when he didn't have to. You find a message scribbled on the side when you reach for the cup to take a sip.

Thanks again. See you Friday. -J

You turn to hide your smile from Ellie, but she's so deep in her work that you doubt she would've noticed anyway. You put some music on, and you and Ellie work silently on your projects until the bell rings and the day starts.

The rest of the week goes by without a hitch, meaning that nobody accidentally ingested paint, and you only had to have one Come to Jesus talk with your Art 1 class. When Friday night rolls around, you're excited to see all the students work and treat yourself by wearing a new shirt with black scribbles all over it and black dress pants. You figure you should look as art teachery as possible for an art teacher event.

By the time you get to the school, the hallways are buzzing with students dragging their parents from one piece to another and administrators praising their art programs even though you know not one of them has seen the inside of an art classroom in months. You make small talk with some of your students and their parents before finding a way out of the conversation and letting yourself wander through the makeshift gallery. You love your kids, but you really don't want them breathing down your neck as you look at all the art. You're almost at the end when you hear a familiar voice calling your name, and you turn to find Ellie walking toward you with Joel and, who you assume to be her uncle, next to her.

"Hey, kid! I'm so happy to see you here!" You say sincerely, and she smiles shyly. You turn to her uncle and hold your hand out to introduce yourself.

"Tommy. We sure have heard a whole lot bout you at home." He says with a smirk, and you laugh.

"All good things, I hope."

"Of course. Ellie just bout worships the ground you walk on," he says. "Joel was singin' your praises, too."

"Alright, I think that's enough. Why don't y'all go walk around, and I'll catch up with ya?" He suggests, and Tommy chuckles. Another teacher calls Ellie's name from down the hallway, and she's quick to drag Tommy off to meet him, leaving you and Joel alone. He's replaced his black shirt with a light blue dress shirt, and it looks like he's recently trimmed his beard. He looks nice.

"Singing praises, huh?" You raise your eyebrows at him, and he smiles sheepishly. "Thank you for the coffee the other morning, by the way. It was a really nice surprise."

"Figured it was the least I could do to thank you for takin' such good care of my girl."

"Well, thank you. I owe you."

"You don't owe me a thing," he says. "Although, Tommy was a little upset that I didn't bill you for lookin' at the projector."

"Was he?" You ask, and he nods.

"Oh, yeah," he laughs. "Said next time I should, at least, ask you on a date."

"Mr. Miller-"

"I thought you agreed to call me Joel." He raises his eyebrows in a silent challenge, and you shake your head, fighting a smile.

"Joel, while I'm flattered by the offer from someone so handsome-"

"You think I'm handsome?"

"I can't date my students' parents." You say, ignoring his question, but even then, the playful look on his face doesn't fade. "Well, I can leave you to it. I know Ellie will probably want to show you around."

"Right. Of course," he says. "It's really nice to see you."

"You, too. I'm just glad I didn't have paint in my hair this time."

"I don't know. I thought it was kinda cute." You feel yourself blush at his words, but you have to shut it down before it can become anything more than flattery. You take a deep breath and try not to let that stupid smirk weaken your knees as he watches you.

"Goodnight, Joel."

"Goodnight, ma'am." He says, tipping his head politely before sauntering down the hallway like he owns the place. Trouble, you think to yourself. But you can handle trouble. It's in your job description, for Christ's sake.

So, you brush off the flirting and try to ignore how his kindness and sweet words made you feel. You absolutely cannot flirt with the parent of one of your students. Dating is completely off the table. You can handle this like an adult. You have to.

After a cold shower and a leftover dinner, you check your email once more before going to bed that night. Sitting in your inbox with alarming clarity is an email from Ellie with the subject line: Art Club. Her email is somehow just as short as her subject line.

Simply, "When can I start -E."

TAGLIST: @abbyhaslongshorts @kiwiharrykiwi @sumsworldz @myloveistoolittle @anavatazes @marantha

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ineffably-human · 8 months

Text

The day Guillermo slaughtered a theatre of vampires, Nandor looked up and actually saw him. 'My name is Guillermo de la Cruz' burned like a silver knife in his brain. And that's the day Nandor started rooting for him.

Making him a bodyguard, insistent that's what he was. Watching him so carefully. 'Push back. Break the rules. Talk about yourself. I can't do it for you. If I do it for you then you've already lost.' Guillermo slapped him and his eyes lit up. Guillermo fought him, and he only wanted more. Guillermo said 'I can kill you whenever I want, I choose not to,' and it's what he was waiting for.

Nandor stands at the train station, feeling awake for the first time in months as he considers all the variables. The normal bite won't be enough, not for a Van Helsing. He'll have to drink someone right away, just to be sure. Will it feel the same for him, to hunt a human the way Nandor's watched him hunt a vampire? Maybe if they do it together. Maybe there's a lot that Guillermo can do very easily, if they do it together. Maybe there's a lot Nandor can do, very easily, if-

(...he's not coming. Well, familiars have balked at less.)

It's such a genuine surprise when he reappears. Why everything happened doesn't matter, exactly; Guillermo doesn't fight to get any of it back. He's so angry, so ready to leave, and by all rights Nandor should let him. But all he can feel is the instinct to stop him. Perhaps if he has actual love in this house, something to fill the void... Maybe there's one more thing Guillermo can do for him before his exit.

It's a strange year. Guillermo is not in his service, so much as he's a friend charged with service. His mind is so pulled in different directions - raising the Colin-creature, helping at the club, buying his gaudy new clothes that aren't vampire-like at all. Talking on the phone, sometimes in the other language he speaks, sometimes in secret whispers Nandor doesn't try to figure out.

If Guillermo doesn't want him to know, then he doesn't. He can't begrudge him a life outside this house anymore. It's like Guillermo has remembered how to be human.

Maybe he has. Nandor takes him to fight, wants to see that fire in his eyes again, but Guillermo only wants peace. They never talk about him becoming a vampire. Guillermo doesn't ask once. At the wedding, Guillermo promises to always be there when Nandor is afraid. Nandor wonders what 'always' means to him.

When he meets Freddie, things click into place a bit. Nandor is happy for him, truly. Suspicious, of course - this is a stranger in their home, one who clearly doesn't know their secrets. But such a kind and engaging stranger. And intriguing, like a little secret corner of Guillermo Nandor has never been able to reach. Nandor has been so lonely lately, he keeps getting everything he wants and yet he's lonelier than ever -

Nandor fucks up. Nandor fixes. Or does his best, anyway.

Guillermo goes to London one day, comes home with a look in his eyes like something broken. They don't talk about it.

Guillermo is back to dusting. He sits beside Nandor and smiles, placid and friendly. 'So, what's next?' But he doesn't ask. And Nandor can't ask it for him. That's not how this works.

And suddenly, Guillermo is a million miles away. Suddenly, Guillermo would rather be anywhere than with Nandor.

He talks about being a vampire for the first time in a year, but there's a strangeness to it. A wariness. When they laugh at the idea, he doesn't push back. There's no fire.

Something is wrong, honestly wrong, but Nandor can't bring himself to think about it seriously. Guillermo still runs from even the thought of their orgies. (So it can't be what he's thinking of, can it?) Their first big crisis as a household in a while, their bodyguard is nowhere to be found. (Is he a bodyguard anymore? A familiar? A lot more like Laszlo's familiar, these days...)

'I'm not going to be around forever.' Well, fine. He can survive that. He's survived far worse, and so has Guillermo.

And Guillermo is not just here right now, but is alive right now - wonderfully, blessedly alive - and Nandor won't be forced to think about his death for a while yet.

The one thing he knows for sure is that Guillermo would never do anything to hurt him, to hurt any of them. And maybe that's why it never worked out. You have to do so much more than survive, to be a vampire.

-- When everything that happened becomes clear, when his rage fades to anger fades to acceptance, there's still responsibility. Responsibility to his familiar, responsibility to his friend.

And when Guillermo's heart is too full, and spills over whatever bloodlust he had, Nandor wishes he were surprised. Guillermo has iron in him but it's been forged into a shield, after all this time. There are no little leftover bits Nandor might have helped him shape into a pair of fangs.

Guillermo can feed a family, or defend one, or defend himself. But he won't kill unless he has to, and his own survival - or his own happiness - is not a 'has to'. Fine. Guillermo has fought for him. Nandor can fight, too.

His own anger still needs a more constructive place to go. So he looks at Guillermo's wretched sire - who never even wanted to be a vampire, and then made a vampire so thoughtlessly. Who hasn't come to see Guillermo, who couldn't figure out how to help him, who doesn't even know that he's in pain.

Nandor drives a stake into the heart of a vampire. And it feels good.

Maybe now, he can also be angry at himself a little less.

#i can't believe nandor's choices about guillermo were deliberate while *also* never intending to help him or give him what he wanted #but i love the idea of nandor actually seeing guillermo all this time #never *completely* and not always in the way guillermo needed #but still always watching him out of responsibility out of love #fandom: wwdits #otp: nandermo #what we do in the shadows #wwdits #nandermo #i am a meta gremlin

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