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titan-fodder · 3 years

Text

Prima Vista Part IV

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Rating: E (explicit; mdni) Pairing: Mike Zacharias x fem!reader wc: ~ 9.6k

Warning: a big helping of abandonment/daddy issues, lots of feelings, explicit sexual content A/N: y’all are gonna be so soft and then so mad lmao.

The plan was to go to Mike's house then back to campus. You said you didn't have anything to do at your mom's, that a long phone call would suffice, which is why Mike is confused when you ask him if you can stop by before going back. It's an hour out of the way, but it's not like he has anything better to do, and he'd be lying if he said he wasn't curious about your humble beginnings.

The house is in a decent-looking neighborhood, small, nearly identical one-story homes surrounded by cracked sidewalks. He has to be careful not to trip as you make your way to the front porch, pots of dead or dying plants along the edges of it. You shove your key into the lock, twist and open, then motion for Mike to follow.

The den is dimly lit, ceiling fan above with only one working bulb. A crime show is playing on the TV but there's no one watching. There is, however, another light pouring from a back room, and as soon as you drop your bag on the couch, a head pokes out from the doorway.

"Baby girl!" A shrill voice cries, and Mike sees you grimace. "I thought you weren't coming by!"

A woman walks into the den wearing long, cotton shorts and an old tie-dye shirt then pulls you into a hug so tight that it makes you cough.

"Mom," you take a deep breath as if to refill your lungs with all the air that was pushed from them. "This is Mike."

He holds out a hand and smiles, but all your mother does is stare with round eyes and blurt, "Oh, he's a big boy."

"My fucking god." You don't yell or whine, just pinch the bridge of your nose and mumble, "Just shake his hand please."

"Sorry, I'm sorry, just was not expecting… You didn't tell me how tall he was."

"'Cause it doesn't matter. Why would I—nevermind," you cut yourself off, face falling flat just like your voice.

Mike isn't sure if he should be flattered or offended or embarrassed, so he just ignores the comment entirely and says, "Nice to meet you."

You make your escape to the back, dragging Mike with you before shutting your bedroom door and leaning against it.

"Mom is a little weird, but you'll always know where you stand with her," you tell him. "Also, sorry about the house. She’s a teacher, so she’s usually pretty beat at the end of the day. Not enough energy to do a lotta cleaning."

"Didn't even notice," he reassures you.

Mike unpacks his bag next to you, and you gather the dirty clothes from both yours and his, balling them up and taking them with you out to the garage to throw into the washing machine. Mike should have done it at his parents', but as you were packing up that morning, his mother got all teary eyed and his dad just kept shaking your tiny hands and telling you to come back, so it just didn’t happen.

Back in the living room, your mom is sitting in an old rocking chair, and Mike thinks you'll take a seat on the adjacent couch, but instead you ask, "You need help with anything? Dishes or vacuuming or somethin'?"

She looks up at you, fly-away hairs sticking out around her temples and forehead and responds, "It'd be nice if you could do the dishes. I just haven't gotten around to it."

"Can do," you nod and walk into the kitchen, opening the dishwasher and making a displeased noise at the dirty plates and bowls inside. There's room for a few more, but once it's full and running, you just clean what's left in the sink by hand. Mike finds a towel, stands next to you, and holds his hand out for every scrubbed dish, drying it and placing it in the rack to hopefully be put up later.

"You hungry?" You ask when you're done and drying your hands. "It's almost one."

"Uh, yeah. I could eat."

Truthfully, he's starving having only had a small breakfast at his parents'. He doesn't want to say that, though, doesn't want you making a big meal for him or apologizing for anything.

"Sandwiches okay?"

Something in your tone has him on edge. Your voice is too quiet, deflecting downward as if you're forcing each word from your mouth.

"Yeah," he nods. "If you get the stuff, I can make 'em." Mostly so that you can relax but also because there's no way he's gonna let you make him a fucking sandwich.

You shrug your shoulders, grab bread, lunchmeat, cheese, and condiments, then say, "You can make ours. I'll make mom's."

He knows he's missing something, but he doesn't know what, and right now he's too afraid to ask.

He eats next to you on the couch, you and your mom watching TV as Mike tries to subtly glance around. Mounted shelves are decorated with dusty, mismatched figurines, cracks opening at the corners where the walls meet the roof. The brick fireplace is stacked high with plastic tubs and books, probably from your mother’s classroom, and the carpet has seen better days.

Mike isn't judging—not in the least—but he has a feeling he knows why being here puts you in a sour mood. The house feels lived in, cluttered and cozy and worn around the edges, but it's still empty somehow.

After the three of you are finished eating, you take the paper plates and dispose of them, then tell your mom that you'll be in your room. She gives you a soft smile that you struggle to return.

It's a little more you in the bedroom, blue walls covered in old posters and collages, a quilt similar to the one in your dorm folded at the bottom of your bed. Your pillow cases are faded and covered in an old flower design that matches your sheets, and there's a small nightstand next to the headboard that's bare on top with wrinkled papers poking out of the bottom drawer.

"It's not much, but if you wanna snoop around like I always do, feel free."

Mike doesn't really want to, especially since you already seem so uncomfortable in what should be a safe space for you. The only thing he feels okay investigating is the old bookshelf next to your closet—mostly YA novels, some poetry books, an old set of The Lord of the Rings series, a textbook over rocks and minerals and another over volcanoes. Tucked away in the bottom shelf is a tiny booklet that looks like a photo album, and Mike has to fight the urge to pull it from its place and flip through the plastic pages. Anything to get to know you better.

You lay in bed, eyes locked on the ceiling, and Mike doesn't know what to do. There's a very small TV sitting on your dresser, an old DVD player next to it, so he figures he'll save both you and himself from talking by picking out a movie.

He fingers through them, not that there's a lot, just skims the spines until he pulls out a copy of Space Jam. You only glance at the screen when the intro starts, and Mike immediately zeroes in on the way your jaw sets and your brows furrow.

"I can pick something else," he tells you quietly.

You take a deep breath and shake your head. Slowly but surely your features begin to soften.

"'S'fine."

"Are you sure?"

"Yeah. My, uh…" You swallow loud enough from Mike to hear, neck bobbing with the motion. "My dad and I used to watch it all the time."

He doesn't know what to make of it or how to respond. In the months he's known you, Mike has never heard you mention your father a single time, and he's never asked in fear of what your response might be.

He moves your quilt to sit on the very edge of the bed, a little too tense as he heavily contemplates ignoring what you'd said and still switching movies.

"You can lay down, you know," you mumble. "I'm not gonna bite you."

"You have before," he tries to act casual, but it comes out too stiffly.

You laugh through your nose— "Suit yourself—" then get more comfortable on the mattress.

Michael Jordan gets pulled into a golf hole and the Loony Toons journey to retrieve his shoes from the real world. Mike is barely paying attention, more focused on the way your breathing evens out until it becomes slow and deep.

That's good. You could use a nap.

He watches you for a while, the way your eyelashes flutter against your cheeks and your lips part. You're all curled up on yourself, hands tucked under your chin, knees to your stomach, and Mike wants to slip behind you so badly, to pull you to his chest and lay with you until his heartbeat syncs with yours.

But first.

As carefully as he can, Mike stands from the bed and glides to the bookcase. He lowers himself in front of it, quickly finding what he's looking for and pulls it from the shelf.

It's a small little album, full of polaroids and old pictures cut in half. The first page sets the tone for the rest of the booklet, a photo of a very small you outside eating a popsicle next to a man that is most definitely your dad. You've got a similar facial structure as well as his coloring. Not to mention the expression he's wearing is one Mike has seen you make many times before.

The next picture is the two of you dressed up for an event. He's in a striped Polo and slacks while you're in a little checkered dress, a rose corsage on your tiny wrist. Some kind of father-daughter dance, Mike guesses.

Sitting on his lap at a fair, a chubby little boy a few years older than you standing close with a stuffed snake around his neck. A party where you're posed with an honestly frightening costume character. You in a bright, mesh jersey standing back to back with your dad, arms crossed, looking at the camera with your chins tilted upward.

They all look like good memories. The little boy in the fair picture appears several more times, and as he loses his baby fat, Mike sees the resemblance he shares with you and your father. It's too close to be a cousin—your eyes and mouths shaped the same—so he must be your brother.

Mike doesn't know how to feel about that because again, you've never uttered a word. As far as he knew, you were an only child, so why…

He gets lost in the pages, watching you grow and pose mostly next to your dad. Smiles and laughs and silly faces with your tongues sticking out. Your mom is in some, brother in others, and then, you're in a cap and gown, grinning widely next to your dad who's beginning to gray at the temples. His own smile is barely there now, a ghost of what was seen in the previous photos. It's forced, it's sad, and it's the last picture in the book.

Mike's chest hurts. He wonders what happened, when exactly you'd lost him. Was it a quick goodbye, or had it been drawn out and painful? Had he been sick for a long time? He'd looked perfectly healthy in all the shots. Maybe a car accident that took both him and your brother…

He flips to check for one last photo on the back of the page, but it's empty. However, tucked in a tiny, paper pocket is a folded up note that Mike stares at for a few solid minutes, debating the pros and cons of reading it. He knows he's already violated your privacy by looking through the album, and fuck, he's only been in your house for a couple hours at most—how has he already managed to tumble down such a humongous rabbit hole?

Your tiny snores reach his ears, and Mike gently pulls the note out, biting his lip as he unfolds it as quietly as possible. It's soft, like it's been read too many times, and the letters scribbled in all caps are beginning to fade, but the words are still legible.

It starts with your name, and then it's all apologies—sorry I can't stay, I have to leave, you don't understand how much this hurts me and so on.

Mike's eyebrows pull together the further he reads, blood pounding against the walls of his arteries, pulse picking up because he understands now.

Your father wasn't in any sort of accident; he just left.

The letter ends with a gut-wrenching, You'll always be my little girl, and Mike nearly crumples the paper up to throw away. He resists somehow, simply folds it with shaky hands and slips it back into the pocket at the back of the album.

He's never been so mad at a stranger in his life. This must be it. This must be why you are—

"Should've known you'd go straight for the photo album."

Your voice makes Mike's body jolt, his face heating as he turns to look at you with wide eyes.

"I'm so sorry. I didn't mean—"

You wave him off and prop yourself up on an elbow. "It's whatever."

But, it's not. It's this huge part of you that still affects you to this day. Mike is no psychologist, but he has a pretty good feeling this is the main reason you hold everyone at arm's length.

"Why didn't you ever tell me?"

"What's there to tell?"

Sitting up fully, your gaze moves to the screen just in time to see Michael Jordan step off of the spaceship and onto the baseball field. I Believe I Can Fly is playing, and you're gritting your teeth.

"It's not anything that comes up in normal conversation anyway. I wasn't just gonna hit you with it outta nowhere. Also," you look back to Mike, eyes still sleepy, lips pulling downward in a frown. "I'm not the only one who hid stuff about my family."

Mike sighs and quietly tells you, "That's different," as he closes the album and slides it back into the row of books.

"Is it, though? Is it really?"

"I..."

Mike shuts his mouth and actually thinks on it. He wasn't trying to lie to you about his home life or his heritage. He's only half Greek on his mom's side, after all, and he's only been to the country to visit family a couple of times—once when he was a child and once right before college. The culture is a little different over there, but it all seems so natural to him, especially after being raised to speak the language.

Honestly, he didn't ever tell you because he didn't think to, but Mike can understand the shock of walking into his childhood home and getting thrown through that loop. It must have been jarring for you.

It's a positive aspect of his life, though. It's not something that's damaged him or made him cold toward others. And, he hates describing you in such a way, but it's true.

At least it makes sense now.

"I guess not," he shrugs. He's not about to fight you on it.

You stare at him for a while, waking up a bit more as you rub your eyes and stretch.

Then, you flop back down on your pillows.

"So. Any questions, Zacharias?"

He's surprised that you're asking, and though he doesn't want to twist the metaphorical knife in your gut, he still replies honestly: "Too many."

A long exhale through your nose, and then you're patting the mattress next to you and grumbling, "Fine, I'll do my best, but you gotta come up here."

"Why? You gonna need to cuddle afterward?" He can't help but tease.

"Fuckin' maybe, dude! We're about to get into my god damn trauma so—"

Mike is up on his feet and flying toward the bed. He isn't about to sabotage the one fucking moment you're opening yourself up.

"Alright, what first?" You ask, trying to look bored, but Mike can clearly see that you're nervous.

"He left."

"Yeah."

And then he gets the full story.

Your dad was pretty perfect during your younger years—a bit of a workaholic but still good. He took you to dances like the one you'd both dressed for in the photograph. You'd spend days at amusement parks where he'd carry you on his shoulders. He coached the basketball team you'd played on as a child.

"Not saying he played favorites, but I was definitely closer to him than my brother was."

The brother who developed a drug problem at fourteen, who was always either out with his little addict friends or at home where he would just scream at you and your mom.

"He went to rehab a couple times, but it didn't stick."

He left home at seventeen and hasn't gotten in touch with you or your parents since.

"I keep thinking one day we'll get a call from the police saying they found his wallet on a fucking corpse, but who knows. Maybe he got clean. Maybe he started a family somewhere else. He'd be twenty-five now."

"Were you ever close with him?"

You shrug. "We spent a lot of time together when we were really little, but even back then he was kinda a mean kid."

It very quickly circles back to your father. Mike still doesn't feel like he has all the answers, so he asks through the skin of his lip, "Why'd he leave?"

At this point, you've got your head in his lap as he sits against the wall. He smooths your hair back from your face every once in a while, something his mom used to do to him when he was very young that always soothed him.

He hopes it's having the same effect on you, thinks it might be considering you've had your eyes closed for a while now, humming now and then as you talk.

"Honestly, I don't really know. I don't think he and my mom were ever in love. Like, they just kinda settled for each other," you sigh. "They didn't have a lot in common. They had different upbringings. But, they didn't fight or anything—not in front of us. They were good at hiding the hard times from me and my brother. They just didn't… click."

Mike bites his tongue, wonders if that was hard to watch or if you'd been too naive to notice.

Then, there's his second train of thought that's really just the voice in his head screaming, we click, though! You and I work! But he keeps it to himself. This isn't about you and him.

"I think maybe dad had, like, a 'stay together for the kids' mentality 'cause as soon as I graduated, he was fuckin' gone. And, I mean gone. We went to a graduation party the next weekend that lasted a few hours—just me and mom—and when we got back his truck wasn't in the driveway and his drawers were empty. He left that note you read on my desk."

Mike breathes. Just breathes. He tries to make sense of it, how someone could just do that without a real reason. There hadn't been any explanation in the letter, only apologies.

"Have you seen him since?"

You open your eyes and reply, "Nope," popping the 'p'. "I don't know where he is, and he hasn't reached out. Mom made the drive to my grandma's—his mom—but she said she didn't know where he was either. Pretty sure she was covering for him, though. She was always kind of a bitch. You know, save for the whole paying for my college and all."

Mike snorts at this, not that there's anything funny about the situation. It's just his first reaction.

You ignore it, moving on with an, "Anyway."

"Anyway," he mimics.

"I don't know if you've noticed in the short time you've been here, but my mom is a little… off. Not super good at taking care of herself."

"Is this why?"

"Clever boy," you show a bitter smile. "I didn't really understand since they weren't, like, in love or whatever, but… I think it was the betrayal more than anything. Like, it came outta nowhere, a big ol' slap in the face."

"Plus, he left you behind," Mike adds, as if you don't already know.

Looking up at him, you raise your eyebrows and smirk. "And, now you know about my abandonment issues." The last part comes out in high-pitched, melodic syllables, a little song that would be funny if Mike didn't know it was a coping mechanism. It most definitely is, though. He can tell that you're the type to mask every issue with humor and sarcasm. It's how you've been dealing with him for the last several months.

"So, that's my story," you conclude on an exhale. "Now you know all my dirty secrets."

"For some reason I don't think that's all of them," Mike pets your hair again. "But, probably the important ones."

"Mm. I guess."

The rest of the day is really just spent killing time. You cook an easy dinner that you refuse to let Mike help with, then sit in the den with your mom just like you did at lunch. A medical show is playing. Then a reality show. Then a game show. None of you say much of anything, and it's painfully awkward for Mike now that he knows what happened, but he can power through a few days of this if it makes you feel better.

Hours pass until you can retreat, and moonlight shines through your bedroom window, not that Mike needs it. He's memorized your body at this point, knows where to touch without even seeing. He makes sure to be gentle, to suckle and blow on your pebbled nipples as you card fingers through his hair and breathe faster and faster.

Leaving love bites down your chest and stomach, he sucks on your skin, gently grazing his teeth over every bruise. Mike wants you to see them all the next day—not a staked claim, just something you can't ignore when you look in the mirror, evidence of his feelings in every mark.

When you're finally nice and relaxed, he spreads your legs and licks into you, trying not to be too rough with his beard, but a few swipes of it over your clit leave you shaking in his grasp. You whisper his name, the common one that everyone knows him by, but then, rolling off your tongue like a prayer, you call him, "Miche," and he can't help the rumble that rises in his chest.

It should be strange. That's the name only his family uses, the one he was born with. He only simplified it so that kids in school wouldn't ask questions or make fun of him, and after that, it just sort of stuck. But, here and now, falling from your lips, it's so soft. So intimate.

You whimper when he sucks on your folds, making them swell, making them sensitive. And then, he's pushing his tongue inside of you and humming happily at the taste. His nose is bumping against your clit, and Christ, you even smell good to him—that ripe, tangy aroma that has Mike going a little crazy. He has to make sure he doesn't get too carried away. You can't make very much noise even with the rattling of the air conditioner, but as he slowly slides a finger into your pussy, he hears you moan around the fist you're holding to your mouth.

He stretches you just enough to get you ready, then he holds himself over you and pushes into your wet cunt. Your eyes are open, locked with Mike's as your brow raises and your jaw drops. It's erotic, something you've never done with him before. You typically either gaze somewhere other than his face or keep your eyes squeezed shut.

Tonight, though, you've been vulnerable and apparently want to stay that way for a little while longer.

He bends to catch you in a kiss, lips and tongues moving just as slowly as his hips, and when you reach to tug at Mike's hair, he pants into your mouth.

Those words are there again, stuck in his throat but slowly crawling upward until they're just there, pouring from his tongue, "I lo—"

Until you cut him off with a sharp, "Don't."

He makes a noise of frustration, wants to protest because he's so deep inside of you, and you're holding onto him like you want him—truly want him, but you mutter once more against his lips, "Don't say it, Miche."

So, he doesn't. He bottles the confession up and keeps it locked away, hoping like hell that one day you'll let him tell you.

After you climax and coat his cock in slick and cream, he gives a few more thrusts and comes inside of you, filling you with himself and wondering why you're so willing to accept him in that way but not in any other.

He's hurting again, like he did at his parents' as you walked around like you belonged there. Except it's worse now.

If you don't want him to say it, that means you don't want to say it back.

He stays with you for a few more minutes before pulling out. You leave to clean up, and while you're gone, Mike sits on the edge of the bed, head in his hands as he tries to get it all out of his system, whispering it out loud to himself:

I love you. I love you, I love you.

You still let him hold you as you fall asleep, gripping his hand until you can't anymore, and as Mike drifts off behind you, he has one last thought—Just let me.

* There’s only three weeks left of the semester when you head back to campus, and you intend to make the most of every passing day.

You pay better attention in class. You study harder in the library to prepare for final exams. You go to a few more Pi Alpha Kappa parties, making sure not to burn yourself out. And, you let Mike fuck your brains out every few days. Sometimes it’s late at night after those parties. Sometimes you're too tired after the nights of drinking and end up just going to bed only to wake up in the morning and have slow, sleepy sex. Sometimes it’s in the middle of the afternoon when you both have breaks between classes.

Neither of you bring up anything that happened over the break—meeting families, details about your childhoods, how much you learned about one another in general.

Most importantly, neither of you address that first night at your mom’s, the way Mike had basically worshiped your body, how he’d come so close to uttering the three words you least want to hear.

Thinking about it still makes your chest tighten, your heart beat faster. Sometimes when you’re sharing his bed with him, back pressed to his chest, large arm slung over your waist, you think about why it is you’re so vehemently against it. The two of you already act like a couple most of the time. You walk with each other to class when you can. You stick to each other’s sides at parties. You fuck like rabbits and don’t care who knows about it.

And, though you’re hesitant to admit it even to yourself, you’d be lying if you said you didn’t have feelings for him. Mike is your best friend at this point. He’s insanely hot. He’s goofy. He’s kind. Yeah, the frat boy persona he puts on around his friends is annoying, but you understand it a little better now. Plus, he always takes off the mask when he’s alone with you, giving both you and himself a break from it.

You know your time with him is quickly coming to an end—for about two months, at least—and whenever you think too hard about it, it makes you pout and huff. You’re not looking forward to your summer classes without him, but he promises on several occasions that you can call him while he’s at his parents’ if you ever need help with the material.

It’s impressive, the way he’s able to act like nothing happened. You know it must be troubling him, but it’s not like you can do anything to soothe him. If he was really upset with you, he would have stopped spending time with you, but he hasn’t. He just bottles it up, keeps smiling at you all crookedly, and keeps satisfying you in the bedroom (more than satisfying honestly. There’s really not a word to describe what he does).

He’s back to getting along with everyone in the Pike house, everyone being Erwin. It’s a relief just because you don’t have to put up with the tension between them, but it’s also awkward. And, a little frightening.

The brothers have Smash Brothers tournaments and movie nights, a few date parties here and there, and it never fails that at some point during the evenings, you find your neck prickling as it always does when you feel someone staring at you. You always hope it’s Mike. Fuck, you wish it was him. But, when you glance up and around, it’s Erwin. Every time. His deep blue eyes are trained on you, the corner of his mouth twitching upward on one side. It doesn’t matter if he’s alone or if he’s got Maddie or some other girl sitting in his lap. He's fucking shameless, and it makes your stomach hurt.

You keep your mouth shut for the sake of the friendship but also for the sake of Erwin’s pretty face. If he and Mike ever got into an actual fight, Erwin would probably be able to get a good few punches in, but you’re nearly positive Mike would end up destroying him in the long run. That could get him kicked out of school. That could get him thrown in jail.

Finals roll around, and you manage to pass all of them without issue, even getting grades above the class average. You feel fantastic, like your long term goals might actually be attainable. You have a long road ahead of you, but your GPA at the end of the year is more than enough to raise your confidence.

Mike asks you to come back to his house for the couple weeks between the end of the semester and the start of your summer courses, but you turn him down, too scared of what might happen while you’re there. Acting like a couple in front of his parents will only exacerbate his feelings as well as yours, and you’d like to avoid that as best you can.

Even now as you’re standing outside by the Jeep, he tries to persuade you one last time, almost pleading, “Are you sure you don’t wanna come?”

“Miche, I’m sure,” you tell him, trying to stay stern, but it’s hard when his sea glass eyes light up at the sound of his real name. It’s a habit you’ve gotten into, a bad one considering how much he likes it. How much you like it. “I already told you I wanna spend the free time I have at mom’s. I need to check up on her and… Probably clean, honestly.”

He lets out a little grunt of disappointment, then nods. “Yeah, I get it.”

“You saw what she’s like,” you remind him. “Someone needs to drop in every once in a while to make sure she isn’t, like, wasting away or something.”

“Makes sense. I’ll be bummed, though.”

“Be bummed all you want,” you smile. “I’ll probably still bother you over break. A lot.”

He sounds terribly sincere when he mumbles, “You never bother me.” It makes your stomach flip in the way you do not enjoy.

Mike sighs, taking in one of those deep breaths that makes his broad chest rise then fall, calling attention to it and making you bite your bottom lip.

“Alright, I should get going,” he concedes, bending down to kiss you too deeply for simple friends with benefits. It doesn’t stop you from humming into his mouth and smiling against him. You hold him by the back of his neck as he pulls your body close to his, his voice muffled when he tells you mischievously, “Don’t forget to send pictures.”

It makes you laugh, and you lean back to swipe your tongue over his lips so that he groans and chases after you.

“I promise I will. Perv.” The beating sun is nothing in comparison to the way your body heats at the thought. You’ve sent him nudes before, but the idea of him looking at them from hours away, fisting his cock as he admires your body through his phone… It makes seeing him off even harder.

After a couple more softer kisses, Mike swings into the Wrangler and pulls out of the lot. You stand in his parking space and watch him until he’s out of sight, then walk back to your dorm, dragging your feet the whole way.

You only stay at your mom’s house for a week, and just like you predicted, you spend most of it cleaning. She thanks you the whole time but makes excuses in between. You just reassure her that you don’t mind even though you do. She really should see a therapist and sort out the depression she’s been stuck in for a few years now, but telling someone they need professional help is easier said than done.

Sleeping in your old bed is much harder this time around. You're all too aware of the weight that isn't behind you, and most nights you lay awake for at least a couple of hours trying to imagine it.

Like you’d promised, you send him a few pictures, some of them just lewd selfies with your tits pouring out of the cups of your bra, but others are of your naked body in the bathtub, sometimes a shot of you with your hand between your legs. It feels wrong to touch yourself in your childhood home, but it’s necessary, especially when Mike sends you a few pictures of his own—one with his torso on display, defined abs absolutely mouthwatering and the V of his hips suggestively leading into mesh shorts. Another is of him in the gray joggers he wears all the time, the ones that always show off his cock.

He’s so fucking hot it atually hurts, makes your pussy throb as you crave his touch. It’s an awful feeling honestly, but even worse than that is the way you miss him. You aren’t supposed to miss him. You’re just supposed to be friends who have sex. Nothing more than that.

It's why you’re glad to go back to school. Your classes will distract you, keep you from thinking about him too much. The semester is shorter during the summer, so you have to work even harder than you do during fall and spring. You don’t really think it’ll be a problem since you’re trying to cram your brain full of anything other than Mike which is great motivation for studying.

Nothing is gonna get you off track, you tell yourself. Nothing will interfere with your studies. That’s the plan.

Then, you meet Zeke Jaeger.

* You're studying in the library. It seems like you spend most of your time here, nice and quiet and empty. The campus isn't nearly as busy in the summer as it is during the rest of the school year. No parties, no sporting events, just you alone with your books.

It's nice. Most of the time. A little boring but mostly nice.

Your eyes are getting tired, and when you check your phone, you realize why. It's almost eleven PM, meaning you've been studying for about six hours. You've had longer nights, usually spent on the phone getting quizzed on the information you're learning with a few breaks in between, but that wasn't the case tonight as Mike had to spend the day with family from out of town.

It's okay. You're supposed to be distancing yourself anyway.

Taking a deep breath, you pack up your books and slide your laptop into your bag, then stand and swing it over your shoulder.

The strap is too long. The bag swings too hard, and your heart sinks when you hear a little grunt followed by a, "Agh, hot!"

Turning with wide eyes, you immediately start apologizing, "I'm so sorry, oh my god, fuck, I'm so sorry!"

A head of light blond hair looks up from the brown stain on his white t-shirt, icy blue eyes narrowed behind wire-rimmed glasses, but when he sees the mortification on your face, his own expression softens, and he chuckles.

"It's fine. You can calm down."

You're still breathing heavily, guilt making your hands shake, but he really doesn't look angry. In fact, he's grinning now, eyebrows raised like he's amused.

The longer you stare at him, the more familiar he looks. You're pretty sure you've seen him before. Many times before, actually, and then it clicks that this guy is on the front page of the school website. You see him every fucking time you log in, looking much more stern than he does now. Baseball hat and jersey, mitt on one hand as he hides his other in it, and yeah, you know him.

"You're Zeke Jaeger."

He makes a face, scrunching his nose up and squinting. "Yeeeeah, I guess I am."

Best pitcher in the college league despite being a sophomore like you. He's beaten the records of some major league players.

You don't give a fuck about baseball, have never even been to any of the school's games, but you've been hearing about Zeke since the last season. You've learned to tune it out because, again, no shits given (and also you're much more partial to lacrosse now), but he's hard to ignore when he's staring you right in the face.

"Well, uh," you try to act casual. It's something you're pretty good at these days. "Cool."

He snorts, picking his shirt off his chest to air it out like it'll help, then says, "I don't know your name, though."

You run your tongue over your teeth, wondering why he cares, then introduce yourself.

"Oh, you're Zacharias' little girlfriend, aren't you?"

Your stomach flips at the mention of him.

"We're not dating."

Zeke cocks his head to the side. "No?"

"No. Just friends."

He hums but doesn't say anything, and your eyes are once again drawn to his chest as he fans over the stain.

"Okay, let me get you a new shirt or something," you try.

He laughs again. "I highly doubt you've got a men's shirt tucked in that bag of yours, sweetheart."

"I—" you pout for a second, mumble, "Okay, yeah, fair point."

"Another coffee, though," he muses out loud. "Wouldn't be the worst thing."

You shoot him a finger gun and smack your lips. "On it. Where do you get coffee at eleven o'clock?"

"I'll walk with you," he states more than offers.

Then, you're both leaving the library, leaving campus, and going to a little 24 hour cafe where you blow on lattes and cover the basics about each other—philosophy major, valedictorian of his high school class, playing baseball since age seven, etc. You should sleep. You should get ready for another long day of studying.

But it's hard to make good decisions when Zeke Jaeger is smirking at you from across the table like you're the most interesting thing he's ever seen.

* Zeke gets your number that night. You're not exactly sure how, but he does.

Then he doesn’t text you for three days. It doesn’t bother you that much. You figure he has other things to focus on. He’s on campus to take a couple courses and practice for the upcoming season, so he’s probably just busy. If that night had just been a one-off, it’s fine with you. It was cool to talk to him, but your heart isn’t broken.

These are all the thoughts and justifications running through your head when you’re in class on Tuesday and your phone lights up during the PowerPoint lecture. You glance down, expecting Mike or Hitch, but it’s an unknown number instead. Eyes flicking from the projection screen to your much tinier one, you slide to open the message and chew on your lip.

Hey, it’s Zeke. You have classes this afternoon?

You do not. And, you are too quick to tell him that.

He takes you to a little Mom and Pop restaurant, too far to walk so you end up riding in the black Bronco he drives, trying to convince yourself that it definitely does not make him any more attractive to you. Because you aren’t attracted to him in the first place. Right?

You sit at a table for two eating paninis and fruit. Zeke asks how classes are going, you ask about practice, and as you talk, he gets that look in his eyes again, like you amuse him or interest him or something.

It confuses you, and for a moment, you’re taken back to last fall at that first Pi Kappa Alpha party, the one you met Mike at when he tried to get you to shotgun a beer. God, he had been so obnoxious back then, always following you around and flirting and—

“You listening, sweetheart?”

Your eyes refocus on the man in front of you, his raised eyebrows and little smirk. “Looks like you’re a million miles away. Sorry if I’m boring you.”

“No, no,” you try to defend. “I just zoned out for a second. Realized I, uh, got an answer wrong on the quiz I took today.”

“That sucks,” he hums. “Anyway, I can stop talking about baseball.”

“It’s okay. Just go over the last, like, ten seconds,” you say with a laugh, hoping your cheeks will stop burning sooner rather than later.

Zeke chuckles and does just that, doesn’t seem irritated or put out. He tells you about how he has a new trainer this year to warm him up and make sure his throwing arm is in top shape. “I hope he’s as good as my last. Colt was always on it, knew exactly how hot to make the warm compresses and how cold to make the ice packs. Stuff like that. He learned my needs.”

You both laugh, and if it was anyone else, you’d have an innuendo sliding off your tongue, but for some reason, you don’t think Zeke would want to hear it, like he’d be unimpressed with your vulgar humor.

Back at the college, he drives you to your dorm, explaining that he lives in the apartments on the other side of campus and wouldn’t want to make you walk that far. Then, as you slide out of the Bronco, he stops you with a smooth, “Hey,” that makes you look over your shoulder at him. “Make sure you save my number in your phone, okay? I’ll text you soon.”

The way your stomach flips is worrisome, a feeling you’re only used to when you’re with…

“Yeah, okay.”

He grins widely and nods, then waits for you to get a good distance away from the car before driving off.

No distractions, you’d said. It’ll be good for your focus, you’d said.

What a fucking joke.

Mike has to help you with some homework that weekend. You can hear his smile through the phone, snort when he makes his little nerd jokes, then sigh when he gets to the actual subject and explains it to you without a problem. His brain is incredible, and when you think about it too hard, it makes you warm inside.

“You’re so fucking smart. Why don’t you let people know?”

“Maybe I just want you to know,” he chuckles. “You think I wanna spend my days tutoring every idiot who needs help?”

“Miche, did you just call me an idiot?”

You hear another breathy laugh followed by a sigh. “I have many, many names for you, but ‘idiot’ isn’t one of them.”

“Oh yeah?” You play. “And, what might those other names be?”

He lists a few, all of them making your face flush and your body tingle, and before you know it, you’ve got your pants off and your fingers between your legs. You can hear Mike’s heavy breathing on the other end, the wet sound of his hand stroking his lubricated cock, and when you reach your climax, you moan out your usual, “Oh fuck, oh fuck, Miche.”

He tumbles down right behind you, panting and telling you in a voice of disbelief, “Jesus, it just keeps coming.” It makes the pulses of your orgasm even stronger, remembrance of all the times he’s painted you in white, and God, you are so ready for him to get back to the school.

Then, there’s the voice in the back of your head that makes you think maybe it’s better that he’s gone for now, that he might not be too pleased that you’re spending time with another guy. But, it’s not like things with Zeke are going anywhere. You wouldn’t even call him a friend. You text on and off, have brunch or lunch or coffee depending on the time of day.

And, yeah, he calls you pet names, tells you that you look nice even when you’re just in leggings and a t-shirt, talks about his family and…

Okay, it could potentially lead to something more, but it’s only been a week, and considering his golden boy status, he could have anyone he wants, so why would he even be interested in you in any way, shape, or form?

Naturally, your thoughts circle back to Mike and the way he could have any girl on his arm, but he still chooses to spend time with you. To fuck you. To nearly confess his feelings to you. You have to wonder if you’re emitting some kind of scent or beacon, if there’s a sign hanging above your head with an arrow pointing down. Sports gods, come get a piece.

If only you’d never gone to that party. If you had just kept your head down like you had freshman year. Your life would be so much easier now.

But now you’re in Zeke’s apartment listening to him rant about some philosopher you’ve never even heard of. He’s gesturing with his hands, flipping curling, blond bangs from his face, and whenever he pauses to think, he scratches his beard. He’s very fond of the white t-shirts and jeans get-up, sometimes switches it up and wears a button down under a sweater vest. Both looks are becoming of him no matter how much you try to deny it, but when he drops down onto the couch next to you and peers into your god damn soul with those piercing, blue eyes, you have to choke back a dreamy sigh.

What is happening to you?

“So, what do you think about it?” He asks, looking hopeful that you might have some insight on this matter.

But, you simply laugh and shake your head. “Zeke,” you start. “I’m gonna be real honest with you here. I didn’t understand a fucking thing you just said.”

You assume he’ll be disappointed, maybe tire of you since you can’t be as intellectually stimulating as he’d like you to, but Zeke exhales in a lighthearted sort of way, shows one of those amused smiles, and tells you, “You’re cute.”

Anyone else and you would have snapped back, something along the lines of, don’t fucking patronize me, but with Zeke, all you can do is stare at him and let your lips part, silently asking for something you won’t speak out loud.

His gaze moves to your mouth for a split second. That soft smile turns into one of his famous smirks. Then, he’s back on his feet and asking, “You wanna go to dinner?”

You are more than relieved at the shift in atmosphere, but your heart is still beating too hard as you follow him downstairs and to his car.

* Summer is passing quickly. Too quickly. The eleven week classes are kicking your ass, or are close to kicking your ass. Lucky for you, you have your own private tutor just a call or text away. Mike helps you, and you laugh and goof around, shoot off innuendo after innuendo, but the phone sex slows to a halt eventually. You tell him that you’re tired, and you are. It isn’t a lie. But, it also isn’t the full truth.

Between classes when you could be resting, you’re eating out with Zeke. Or, watching him and the rest of the baseball team practice for the upcoming season. Or, sitting in his apartment, watching movies and chatting about all manner of things. Nothing important, of course—there’s no diving deep into your life story like you had done with Mike over Spring Break, but Zeke still learns the little things about you. Why you’re majoring in geosciences and how you became good friends with some of the Pike guys. You don’t give him the full details on that one—that you got blackout drunk and fucked Mike and just couldn’t stop. You don’t think Zeke would be interested in hearing about it anyway.

You learn a bit about his dad and stepmom, the latter of whom he isn’t very fond of. He also has a little brother who’ll be attending the college starting this fall, and he’s interested in the Greek life. Naturally, you build PKA up. Even if there are some… Problematic people in the house, there are also a lot of really good guys.

“I’ll make sure to pass it along to him,” Zeke tells you one evening as you’re both sprawled on the couch, backs against the armrests as you face each other. It’s how he seems to prefer to sit when the TV isn’t on. When you asked him why, he had told you, “Just like looking at you,” and you didn’t know how to respond. You still don’t know how to respond.

“Eren thinkin’ about joining any sports?” You ask now. “Does baseball run in the family or anything?”

Zeke snorts. “Kid couldn’t hit a baseball even if it was on one of the t-ball stands.”

“I’ll take that as a ‘no’, then.”

“I would say he’s more academically inclined, but,” Zeke sighs. “That would be a lie.”

You can never tell if he actually likes his brother. Most of the time he complains about him, but every once in a while he’ll bring up something cute Eren did as a little boy, and you see a fond glimmer in his light eyes.

“Anyway,” Zeke waves off the subject and transitions to a new one—one that makes your stomach drop. “Are you gonna tell Zacharias about us?”

You choke on your own spit, leaning forward to cough a couple times, then challenge him with a nervous laugh, “I wasn’t aware there was anything to tell him.”

Zeke tilts his head, mouth pulling up as he raises his eyebrows. “Come on,” he chuckles.

“Come on, what?” You frown. If you were with Mike, you both would have died at that. Come on my face, you can hear him say, and you have to fight a smile because there’s absolutely no way you could explain that to the man in front of you.

“You don’t have to play coy, sweetheart. We both know there’s something going on between us.” He says it with such confidence that even if he wasn’t right you wouldn’t be able to argue with him. The assumption should annoy you, should make you scoff and leave, but instead you sit there staring, caught up in his gaze and cocky grin.

“I—”

“It’s okay, you know. Not like you’re alone in this.”

Those questions swim through your mind again, all the insecurities that you’ve been sorting through with Mike, but now that voice is louder because that sense of trust hasn’t formed yet. You’ve only connected with Zeke over meals and movies. It sounds domestic, but despite your apparently obvious attraction to him, you still don’t feel like you really know him.

But, he draws you in, like a moth to a flame. You can’t help it. There’s just something about him that makes you want him to like you, like you want to impress him, like you want to be good for him. You’ve been trying to ignore those thoughts, but they’re much harder to fight now that you’re sitting in front of him, taking in his wavy hair and pale blue eyes, that ever present smirk on his face, the curve of his neck that disappears into his shirt.

He could just want sex. He could just want a fling. Wait for everyone to get back on campus and drop you for another girl. You tell yourself you wouldn’t care; you’re good at keeping things casual.

Wouldn’t it be fun to be his arm candy for a while, though? Let people look at you and whisper louder than they did when they’d see you and Mike together? You don’t care about status, about being in the spotlight. It’s more for the experience, dating someone who could teach you things.

Mike teaches you things, that voice pops up again. He’s been helping you with your work for almost a year now. You can’t just overlook that.

“What, are you weighing the pros and cons over there or something?”

You snort. “Maybe. We still don’t really know each other all that well, Zeke.”

“Might I remind you that we’ve been hanging out all summer? Did you honestly think it wouldn’t lead to anything more?”

“Honestly,” you mimic, “I never thought you’d be interested.”

“Why wouldn’t I be?” His brow furrows like he’s genuinely confused. “You’re smart. You’re funny. You’re cute.”

God, you can’t even count how many times he’s called you ‘cute’, how many times it’s made you blush over the last several weeks, just like it does now.

Then, he pushes, “Do you not find me at—”

“Of course I do,” you cut him off. “I don’t know who doesn’t, which is exactly why I don’t know where this is coming from.”

Zeke sighs like he’s annoyed, then turns the hand on his thigh palm up and beckons you with two fingers. “Come here.”

“What?”

“Come here.”

Your blood pressure spikes, breaths coming in little puffs that have no way of getting to your brain. It’s probably why you obey, rolling to your knees and clumsily crawling over to him. You stop short, right between his bent knees, but Zeke sits up, straightens his legs, and pulls you into his lap.

More of that precious air leaves your lungs as you exhale too sharply, staring at him with huge eyes. You don’t know what’s happening, can’t believe it’s happening. It doesn’t feel real even as you rest your hands on his shoulders, even when he holds your hips and pulls you so that your full weight is on him, but fuck, you can’t say anything. You can’t make a sound. All you can do is wait for him to make his next move.

“Why do you look scared?” His voice is just above a whisper, but at this proximity you can hear him without a problem.

“I don’t have a lot of experience sitting in men’s laps,” you manage, trying to keep your usual careless tone, but you doubt it works.

“For some reason I don’t believe that.”

You rear back, actually offended. “Excuse m—”

That ire, however, melts away as quickly as it arose. Zeke slides fingers up your waist, all the way to the back of your neck to bring your face to his—your lips to his.

He feels different, not at all what you’re used to. His kiss is more demanding, hungry, and God, you still can’t breathe, can’t think straight because his tongue is moving past your lips, and you’re letting it, letting him taste you as your fingertips dig into the flesh of his shoulders. You lift yourself from him just a little only for Zeke to pull you back down with the hand still gripping your hip. He makes sure you feel him when he grinds up into you, the zipper of his jeans rubbing you through your little shorts so that you gasp into his mouth.

You both stay like that for what feels like a fucking eternity, biting and sucking on lips, stroking over each others’ tongues until you absolutely have to break apart. You’re panting now, body still tense on top of his, and Zeke stares at you with half-lidded eyes and shows the ghost of a smile.

“Oh, I’m gonna have so much fun with you.”

The statement sets you on fire, so much so that all you can do is whimper quietly and lean in for more.

And, as you get lost in Zeke Jaeger, you decide for yourself.

I need to tell Mike

[ next ]

#mike zacharias x reader #miche zacharias x reader #aot x reader #aot fanfic #aot fanfiction #mels prima vista

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inhumanescreeching · 3 years

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in reference to this post, here's my dabihawks love child oc

I'll be using multiple picrews to introduce her and compile all the links I've used at the end, in order of usage for better navigation (i edited some for her eyes). this is gonna be a long post lol rip ur screens

Name: Takami Hidori

Birthday: May 5 (Taurus)

Age: 23

Height: 5'8 ft (roughly 173 cm)

Quirk: Phoenix from the Ashes

I'll start her introduction with a story- I didn't plan her name. On the search for the characters that could translate to phoenix, I stumbled upon hinotori (火の鳥) (after rejecting houhou 鳳凰 out of fear I use it incorrectly/had little knowledge on its usage). I rlly liked hinotori and planned to just use that despite being kinda long, but when copying the characters I accidentally erased the "no" and we're left with Hidori, which is much catchier and literally just means fire bird. i think someone's alr taken this name for their oc- im sorry idek if im right- but my oc is completely unrelated to theirs, if so!!!

Hidori's quirk is powerful, and her eyes symbolize the way Dabi's and Hawks' quirk harmonizes in hers. She inherited Hawks' wings, as well as his telepathic control over them (tho she's not as in sync with said telepathic powers over her feathers as her father, but still). Her bird instincts are kinda watered down tho, and it's mostly just in how her wings either harden (like knives) or soften (like how feathers are supposed to be) depending on her mood. She also inherited Dabi's fire- she can control it, unlike her emitter type dad; she can control the fire's path, strength and can put it out

When she was small, Dabi and Hawks had panicked when she showed signs of inheriting Dabi's fire. Dabi, especially, was scared of their child getting hurt by her power but a trip to the doctor's informed them that while Dabi didn't inherit Endeavor's more fireproof constitution, Hidori did, albeit it's still recessive and only won because Hawks lacked emitter-resistance genes. The doctor promised her body could handle it, and had enough resistance to handle even second degree burns without harm. Dabi still insisted on getting her blockers until she was at least in middle school and Hawks agreed

The biggest kicker of Hidori's quirk is how she got the name. Unlike Hawks who needs a week at most to recuperate from the loss of feathers, Hidori can regenerate up to three times in a single row by burning her wings and letting new feathers grow. Another trip to the doctor's confirmed that this was what her quirk thought was best when combining both of her fathers' quirks and no, neither the Takamis nor the Todorokis have a regeneration quirk in their near family tree

Her best friend (who claims to not be friends in a Bakugo reminiscent way) is Miruko and Shigaraki's child- Seiko. This picture was instigated by Hawks ofc. Hidori barely remembers anymore but apparently she had insisted on wearing the suit if she and Seiko ever got married, and Seiko had even agreed

Seiko inherited most of his mother's traits, and that included her height. By high school, Hidori was alr a head taller than him. Which was fine, he didn't sulk too much about it, he even rides Hidori's back sometimes and calls her a giant... dog. Like best friends do (ill def make another post for seiko lol)

Hidori cuts her hair on impulse one time- during a much due but constantly put off identity crisis. Her fathers let her do as she pleased ofc, Hawks even asked if she wanted to try out dyeing it when they went to the salon (she declined, bc she liked looking like the taller version of Hawks, but he didn't need to know that)

More about her:

- She is very dependable, but at the same time reckless. Sociable, but somewhat closed off. She's all of the best and worst of her fathers lmao

- She is pansexual and genderfluid, fine with any pronouns. She got top surgery later in her life too

- She is an underground hero. Both of her fathers tried to keep her away from anything related to heroism but when she persisted, they supported her

- She got Dabi's stubbornness and Hawks' natural charm, she's a menace when she wants something

- She is spoiled by the Todorokis. Shoto in particular used to steal Endeavor's credit card and buy her ice cream when she was small

- Speaking of, Endeavor really really likes her (he was closed off when he learned about Hawks and Dabi but warmed up to his grandchild soon after). Her dads make sure Endeavor gets as little time with her as possible tho

- She has plenty of aunts and uncles from UA bc of Shoto insisting she gets dropped off when he was still studying. Even now when they've graduated and are heroes, Hidori still receives a ton of envelopes in new years and her birthday

- She's a UA graduate herself, top of her class and class pres

- Tokoyami mentored her during a few work studies!!

- She used to get easily motionsick when she first started flying, but it thankfully got less intense when she started training

- She plays the guitar, often too

- She likes photography, catch her insta looking straight out of a Pinterest moodboard

- Her hair used to be such a mess esp since neither of her dads knew what they were doing. they're naturally curly, but when she grew it out it got less curly due to gravity (true story lmao)

- She used to model. Key words are used to (yes it was for the Bakugos leave me alone)

- She can't stand the cold, she and Hawks uses Dabi as a portable heater during winter

- Auntie Rumi loves to team up with her, if only bc her own child reminds her too much of herself

- She went through the seven stages of cringe grief during her teen years and no i will not elaborate

- She is very artistic, and in her days off work she paints- bc ofc she bought a studio for her art the first chance she got

i am out of thoughts but yea that's Hidori! I'll probably make skits w how dabihawks are like as parents lmao but that's all for now, thx for readin

(picrew 1) (picrew 2) (picrew 3) (picrew 4) (picrew 5) (picrew 6) (picrew 7) (picrew 8)

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poptod · 3 years

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The Breeding Kings (Ahkmenrah x Reader)

Description: Ahkmen’s new school year starts with a bang.

Notes: guess who has imposter syndrome!!!! heres my next work i think??? idk where my inspiration is gonna pull me at any given time. i just wanna say this takes place when ahk’s pretty young! not like ten or something lmao but lets just say hes not an adult. by the way, the reader is indian (indus valley, at the time). WC: 7.3k

"Don't we look like a dream?"

A sharp inhale brought his eyes to shoot open, staring through the cold air to the blank ceiling above him. For a moment he frowned, as his bed had a silk canopy above it, but he quickly realized he had passed out in his friend's room again. He groaned softly, raising his hand to rub his face.

"What... happened last night?" He grumbled, his voice turning to a whisper when the volume of it left him wincing.

No response.

"Piye?"

Ahkmen raised himself, though very strenuously, and looked over the tables and stools thrown beside him. Splinters nearly dug into his fingertips, but he jerked away before anything could lodge.

Piye was much in the same position. Quite literally, with their limbs strewn about, hair a knotted mess upon their head. The only difference was that Piye was lying face down, their face squished into one of the table legs. He almost laughed, but even the spreading of a smile sparked a headache, so instead he poked his blacked out friend.

They groaned, loudly, but did not move. Ahkmen continued to poke them until they finally had enough, pushing themselves upwards.

"What the hell do you want?" They asked, their voice low and scratchy. Even their eyes had yet to open, stuck shut with crushed eyelashes.

"What did we do last night?" He asked in a mumble, resting his weight on the thin edge of a fallen table.

"You invited Panya and she killed us with beer," Piye breathed out, shielding their eyes from the sun with their hand.

"Fuck," said Ahkmen. "An... what day's today?"

Piye breathed very deeply before opening their mouth, letting out a roar of a yell, "DAD?!? What's today??"

Ahkmen winced away, covering his ears until Piye lay back down, still relaxing into the pile of chairs and tables.

"It is the eleventh of Khuiahk," came Adom's voice from around the corner of the tiny hallway leading to the door of Piye's room. Ahkmen heard a flip of papyrus before he spoke again, "you have school today, if that's what you're wondering."

"Ah... shit," Piye sighed.

"That means I have school too," Ahkmen said with widening eyes, a pitiful sense of dread overcoming his hangover. "I can't learn like this. I haven't showered since yesterday, I – I barely have a hold on my thoughts, I can't stand loud noises –"

"If you can still gripe like that, you're fine," Piye said flatly, lying for a moment more before their eyes opened, making way for them to sit up and stand.

"But –"

"Calm down, my Prince," Piye said with a derisive bow. "It's quite alright. I'll get us ready within the hour."

Having Piye as a friend came in handy a number of times, but especially when it came to maintaining his image of a perfect son. His parents adored him dearly, but Ahkmen was convinced that that status could be stripped at any moment, and that they would begin to treat him as they did his brother, Kamun. Thus having Piye to excuse away his mistakes was beyond helpful to him, let alone the secret capabilities of the palace physician's child.

In a calm-as-ever demeanor, Piye shoved both him and themself into clothes too warm for the sunshine already beating down on them through windows. The Prince felt a little off––a little more disgusted with himself than usual––but his discomfort was quickly remedied with a stop by the Nile, where the two quickly washed themselves.

Returning into clothes was made easy by the sun that dried the water on their skin within a minute of leaving the river. The two dressed, shoving their legs into skirts and golden bands as they walked, stumbling through the streets with soaking wet hair.

"One last stop," Piye said before they reached the center of the city, pulling Ahkmen off down a hidden alley.

Boxes and carts of goods had been stacked as wide as the thin alley, but they were easily climbed, and the two found themselves in an entirely different part of town.

"How quick is this stop going to be? We're already going to be late," Ahkmen said, but continued to follow Piye without fail.

"Wouldn't worry about it," they assured as they directed him into a tent of red and purple drapes.

Smoke welled in the ceiling, already uncomfortably low for Ahkmen, and even worse for Piye. It must've been important, whatever Piye was trying to do, as they were particularly sensitive about their height at times, and tried not to draw attention to it. The only true light inside the tiny shop was the burning incense, and what little sun could make it through the dark fabric that made up the ceiling and walls. When Ahkmen caught the scent, he recognized it easily––myrrh.

"What are we doing here?" Ahk whispered, trying to look over Piye's shoulder as they led the way through continuous halls of silk.

"Yogi?" Piye said, knocking against the first hard surface they could find.

There was a moment of silence before the wall of satin before him rustled, rippling till it split open to reveal you; a small, foreign child about his age, with a bright red dot on your forehead above wide eyes. His heart thumped erratically as you met his gaze. While he couldn't directly place where you were from, the style of your home and lavish clothes as well as your facial features assured him you were not Egyptian.

"Be needing something, Piye?" You said in a thick accent, looking up at the magi who towered above you.

"One of your drinks," they said. You nodded and ducked back into your room.

"We don't need more to drink," Ahkmen whispered.

"It's a hangover cure. You'll be wanting it."

"Oh."

A moment later you returned, two clay cups in hand swirling with a red mixture. Ahkmen looked suspiciously into the liquid, trying to decipher the ingredients, before Piye knocked their whole cup back and swallowed it in a single gulp. Scuffing his sandal against the floor, he copied his friend's movements.

Sweet, but thick. Like dough, but slimy, and the sensation of it slowly sliding down his throat only brought about more questions as to the ingredients.

"You must be one of their friends," you said once they both finished, handing their mugs to you.

"Well, um..." Ahkmen looked up to Piye, "yes. We're on our way to Osiris' temple."

"You are, then... students?"

"Yes. I study language and morals, Anpu here studies law," Piye answered for him, patting Ahkmen's shoulder.

"The bell will start soon. You should go, the priests are not made of give," you said as you set the cups aside, showing them out the door.

Blazing sun burnt the back of his eyes as he stepped outside, back into the radiating heat and the empty street, which lay an alley's walk away from the Temple of Osiris. He squinted, searching for the boxes he'd climbed earlier.

"Over here," Piye directed him, and he followed.

"Where's your friend from? Doesn't sound like –"

"- like Egyptian is their first language," Piye finished. "I've never bothered to ask, but if I had to guess, somewhere in the east. Our friendship is mostly limited to school, and medicine."

"They study medicine?" Ahkmen asked incredulously. If you weren't native to Egypt, and it was painfully obvious you weren't, it would be a feat beyond God to achieve any form of education concerning the human body.

"Not proper medicine, mind you. It's back-alley magic," Piye said, opening the door to the temple and allowing Ahkmen to pass in front of them.

"Quite literally," Ahkmen mumbled beneath his breath, scanning the main temple for any sign of the priests.

"Right."

"And what was with that fake name?"

"I don't think they –"

"I cannot imagine it will be a fantastic impression on your teachers that you are late on your first day of schooling," came a voice from behind them.

Both Ahkmen and Piye whirled around, wide eyes meeting the High Priest of Osiris, an older man named Yafeu that had never been fond of the royal family. Fortunately, he would not be teaching anyone––the High Priest's position was 'too important' to concern itself with the younger generations teachings. Osiris and his temple required constant cleaning, as well as regularly cleaned offerings of jewels and flowers, plates of delicacies that reached the knee of the massive statue sat at the head of the temple.

In fact, that was where Ahkmen stood; before the statue of Osiris. Somewhere he was not supposed to be.

"We're having trouble finding our class," Piye said before Ahkmen could even think of how to reply.

Yafeu raised a single brow, scanning the both of them with an unimpressed expression. He raised his finger to point at a small door behind Osiris.

"That way."

"Thank you, sir," Piye said with a small bow, taking Ahkmen's hand and rushing him out the door.

While the temple of Osiris held much land, and much of it was occupied by caretakers both priestly and humble, who worked to please Osiris, commoners and non-priests were generally not allowed. Gardens bloomed around the sacred lake, lovingly tended to fit the needs of the temple.

As Ahkmen and Piye walked down the long, open hallway, which on the left side held the many rooms of those working in the temple, and on the right displayed the wealth of the courtyard, the Prince wondered upon the subject of the temple. Very few people were allowed inside––hence his apprehension upon being caught––but considering the amount of people it took to care for the temple, it seemed to him a little unfair that others couldn't come to bow at the statue's feet.

Perhaps the priests, and his father, did not want commoners coming to Osiris with petty issues.

"You handled that quite well," Ahkmen said as he noted the arch to class approaching.

"I fucking hate priests," they seethed, but the expression gave way for a smile in an instant when they both entered the room.

Yafeu might've been old, but the priests that retired into teachers were much older. Last year, Ahkmen's teacher had been a much younger scribe, but this year his class of four would be taught by a priest who had spent his better years tending to Sobek's temple, and consequently had lots of experience with crocodiles. That was about the only interesting thing about the man, except for the fact that his name was Setet, which according to Ahk’s classmate meant 'Daughter of Set'.

A very strange name indeed. Ahkmen let the thought of it occupy his thoughts for a minute or two, but grew quickly bored of the subject, and eventually his mind wandered back to the events of the morning. If Setet had the gall to be this uninteresting, Ahkmen could be allowed time to think and gather himself.

Last night, he thought, chewing on his bottom lip. What had happened?

The details were fuzzy in his head––more a mess of mangled half-memories soaked in beer and wine. According to Piye, who now sat cross-legged on the carpet beside him, something had happened with his friend Panya that made both of them drink a lot of beer. A drinking contest, maybe––Ahkmen was, at times, too prideful for his own good.

Panya couldn't really be considered a friend. She was rarely ever kind to him, and he treated her in much the same light. Despite her crude behavior, she was quite beautiful, and attended the same prestigious school as he did––only in a different class.

What is he talking about? he thought to himself blearily, trying to focus back in on the man in front of him talking.

Then there was the question of you––the pretty little potionmaker––and with that thought implanted in his mind, he left the classroom in every way imaginable except physical.

Ahkmen very rarely met anyone from other countries that weren't royal, so the sudden presence of you was something he could think about for a good, long while as he waited out the school day. He thoroughly enjoyed any research into the cultures and activities of citizens in countries his own and not his own.

You came up about to his shoulder––which meant you were only as tall as Piye's elbow––and your skin was of a darker, more vibrantly red color than those of the Egyptians he usually related himself to. The lighting in your tent had been subpar, making it hard for him to recall what color that dot on your forehead had been. All he could remember was that it existed.

The hangover remedy you had concocted had, without Ahkmen entirely noticing, taken away his headache and minimized his sensitivity to light and sound, which convinced the Prince that you had some sort of schooling behind you. Maybe you weren't as poorly as you looked––all respect to you, of course––and, maybe, you were someone of similar noble standing.

He wasn't sure which theory he liked more.

Unfortunately, he couldn't remember your name, and now that class had started he would have to wait until lunch to ask Piye.

When midday finally did come around, he, Piye, and the other two students in his class were excused to the garden. In the center of the courtyard, the High Priest readied himself for the midday ceremony by bathing in the sacred lake placed there by hand. Clerks and jewellers flitted about from place to place, carrying the finished products of beautiful works that would never see the light of day beyond Osiris' temple. Similarly, weavers and barbers tended to Yafeu as he bathed in preparation.

"What was that eastern brewer's name again?" Ahkmen asked, tugging on Piye's skirt as he attempted to catch up with their long strides.

"The one from the alley? Yogi," they said with a curious tilt of their head. "Why?"

"Oh, I've been thinking about it all morning. I couldn't remember but I know you called them by name."

"Right. Hungry?" Piye asked, stopping before the door to the kitchens.

"I want to find Panya first," Ahk said as he scanned the courtyard.

"Well I want to eat. If you want to try and wade through that crowd for a woman who hates you, go ahead," Piye said, waving him off before promptly slamming the door behind them as they left.

"... right," Ahkmen muttered to himself under his breath.

There were far too many people going about the temple that, standing from his position, it was impossible to see everyone. One thing he did know about Panya, though; she always brought her own food and always sat alone.

Ten minutes later Ahkmen found himself yelling up into a tree that Panya had managed to scale.

"Get lost, goldie!" She yelled from above, picking one of the dates and lobbing it at his head. He dodged, eyes darting down at the ground, where the date had made a dent in the dirt.

"Come on, I just have a question!" He said, squinting from the sun shining directly above him.

"The answer's no. Now go away! You're going to attract one of the priests with all that yelling," she said, cocking her chin into the sky.

"Oh, fuck you," he muttered as he at last looked down, his neck sore from craning it so long. So much for figuring out last night.

As he made his way back to the kitchens, he crossed the middle of the courtyard and spied through the pillars of stone the open door of the inner temple. Inside grew an ethereal blue light, surrounding the figures of stone, warped with smoke as Yafeu knelt to his knees before Osiris. His mouth moved in constant prayer, but Ahkmen could not hear from his distance. He could only watch.

Until one of the clerks shut the door.

He frowned, but headed on his way, soon sliding in next to his friend, Piye. They had taken a seat on one of the many carpets set out on the floor, the open roof allowing sunlight to flood the otherwise dark room. All that protected the students and chefs from the heat of the sun, as well as the heat of the ovens, was the thin tarps covering the majority of the ceiling, though not entirely. There was still room for a couple rays of unbroken sun.

"Find her?" Piye asked through a mouthful of food.

"Yes, but she wouldn't talk to me," Ahk said, irritant in his movements as he began to eat his own lunch.

"Sounds like her."

By the end of school, the sun was already cresting the horizon of low mountains, leading his shadow to tall heights as he walked with Piye, their backs to the sun. Inside the courtyard of the temple, servants and workers planted seeds in the black mud gathered from the Nile's banks. Outside it, however, bustled the busy life of Memphis markets that always received the most amount of patrons after school and work was finished for the day.

Wading through the crowd had always been more of an art than anything, though Ahkmen couldn't practice that art very well with Piye beside him. They stuck out horribly, too tall to duck beneath the swaying barrels and baskets, and unable to pass people by without seeming rude.

"Oh shit!" Ahkmen exclaimed in a moment of remembrance, raising his hand to stop Piye. "I remember why Panya came over."

"Really?" They pulled both of them to the side, pressed against a restaurant wall. "What was it?"

"Drinking contest. Remember last Friday? We had that bet and then I lost, and I had to give her one of my necklaces, but I couldn't part with any of mine, so I just stole my mother's. Then my mother started asking questions, and... oh fuck. Mother's going to kill me," Ahk said with wide eyes, raising his hands to cover his mouth.

"I would love to help you out with this problem, but she's really not going to do anything, and I need to help my father collect ingredients from the market. Is that alright?"

"Yes, I... I understand. Any advice though?"

"Go find Yogi. They might be able to help. See you," they said as they turned and left, all but their shoulders and head disappearing in the crowd.

Ahkmen had little on his persons except the clothes he wore, and the bands he had on his arms marked him as royal. They could not be sold, bartered, or traded in any way, as any non-royal found wearing them was jailed or enslaved. He could not give them to Panya in exchange. Panya might've been annoying, but she didn't deserve something like that.

Since that was the only idea he had, he found himself sneaking back towards Osiris' temple, and going through the streets leading to it in hopes of finding that alleyway once more. It was less of an alley and more of a space between two close buildings, but that distinction easily led him back to climbing over boxes of storage.

In the warm blush of evening, it was hard to make out the different alleys leading to this singular space between buildings, where nothing had been built except that tent of yours. It appeared as though you had blocked it off purposely––made your home secret for a reason.

Questions swarmed his head as he ducked beneath the flap of your home, watching his head for anything hanging too low. He raised his hand, searching for a hard surface––something to rapp his knuckles on, as Piye had.

"Uh... Yoshi?"

"My name is not that. Do not call me that," you said, walking out from behind what Ahkmen thought was a wall. He nearly jumped at your sudden appearance.

"Sorry. I was, um, here this morning, with my friend Piye? They said you might be able to help me," he said in a rambling manner, playing with his fingers.

"What help you need?"

"I had a bet with this girl from my school, and she ended up with my mother's necklace, and I need that necklace. My mother was asking me about it earlier, so I know she's noticed."

"Hmm..." you glanced to the side, placing your hands on your hips. "What was.. your bet on?"

"Drinking contest."

"Ah," you said with a sudden smile. "No problem. You find your girl, bring her here. I will give her my beer."

"You brew beer?" Ahkmen asked incredulously, his eyes widening. Beer-making was something generally reserved for adults.

"I do many things. Do not worry. She will not die," you said, shaking your head as though that would assure him.

"Why would she die?!" Ahkmen asked with even larger eyes.

"I just tell you she will not die! Now go grab her. I will be here with your cups. Tell her you want to do it again," you said, pushing him out the door. He was not at all swayed by your efforts, but allowed you to move him anyway, and soon he stood outside in an evening where the sun had set too fast.

A chill ran over his skin, at which point he acutely missed the warmth of your tent. How you kept it so comfortable, as well as clean in there was a mystery, but that was not at the forefront of his thoughts. Instead he tried to recall where Panya might be––perhaps at school, perhaps at home, or maybe with her friend. She only had one.

After clambering back over the wall of boxes and crates, he snuck back into the courtyard of the temple, keeping a careful eye on any movement he saw. The task proved hard after about five seconds of being in there, as the next ceremony was soon approaching. The Priests would put Osiris to rest for the night.

In several of the rooms he passed, he found other children of noble bearings discussing quietly with the older priests and clerks, who passed the time of their elderly years raising the next generation. He checked each door, but in the end he found Panya on the edge of one of the creeks that ran like veins with the lifeblood of the Nile.

"Can we talk now?" He asked, taking great enjoyment in her surprise as she turned.

"I'd prefer we didn't," she said, turning back to look at the river.

"If I recall correctly," which he did not, "I won last night's contest, right? That puts us at a tie."

"You big liar," said Panya, who also did not recall the events of last night. "I quite distinctly remember rubbing your face in my win."

"Come now, all I'm offering is one more drinking contest. You get to get drunk for free. If you win, I... I'll owe you one favor. One thing you ask of me, I'll do, no questions asked. If I win, I get that necklace back."

"You're vain sometimes, you know that?" She said in a quieter voice as he stood to face her, watching her fingers play with the massive emerald that now dangled from her shoulders.

"So are you."

She raised an unimpressed brow, scanning the Prince before she sighed, closing her eyes.

"Very well. Is Piye going to be overlooking it again?"

"No, no," Ahk said with a dismissive hand, dropping his other to grab Panya's hand and direct her along. "They're busy tonight. I've got someone else on board."

It took a little convincing to get the noble girl to climb up and over the boxes for a secret part of the city, but he eventually won her over and directed her inside your tent. She was about your height––maybe a little taller––and had no problems standing in your low-roof home. Ahkmen on the other hand took a seat as soon as he could.

You introduced yourself with a small bow, bringing forward a low table with a long strip of embroidered cloth, upon which you placed four small cups built of what appeared to be clay. All of this you did in a smooth, practiced swoop that lasted only a moment before Ahkmen was forced to face Panya once more.

Ahkmen might've been a desperate man––in more than one sense of the word––but he would not resort to cheating by stealing. Not to good people. Thus he would keep his word concerning the prizes of the competition, no matter how certain he was that he would fail.

He was a prince, accustomed to constant fine wines and thick beer that smelled strongly of alcohol. A sipper in small amounts.

Panya was not. She had quite a lot of money like his family, but she was far more connected with the world of other teenagers than Ahkmen was.

"I like you to state what you will win if you... win," you said, standing beside the table Ahk and Panya sat at. "That way, it is honest."

"If Panya wins, she can tell me to do one thing that I must do without question. If I win, I get that necklace back," Ahk said as he pointed to each of the things he referred to.

"Okay. Let us begin!"

Four cups. Two on either side of the centerpiece of the table. Ahkmen reached forward at the same time as Panya, grabbing the cups from the right and downing both of them quick as he could. The less he thought about it, the better. Panya soon copied him, finishing much faster than he had, and slamming the cups down so hard he nearly jumped.

"Good start," you said with a nod. "Feel good?"

"I feel about myself," Ahk offered.

"Then you have not drinking enough." You brought out another four cups in a flash. "Try not to let any of it fall!"

It burned his throat––physically burnt it from the alcohol level. No beer or wine had ever done that before, and he nearly spit it out, but managed to swallow it and hide his teary eyes at the same time. He then watched Panya carefully for any reaction, and noted the same surprise in her expression.

"Is a bit stronger. That is how my game works. By your six rounds, it only takes a cup to get a little," you grinned and rolled your eyes in two different directions. Ahk raised his brows, unable to look away, but said nothing.

"God damn," Panya said after downing the second cup of her's on the table. "Where do you get this stuff?"

"I make it. It is levels of dizziness."

"Do you mean drunkenness?" Ahkmen asked, looking apprehensively down into his second cup.

"Whatever. It is family's secret. I sell it to markets, get a good price, people like becoming drunk," you said with a shrug, taking the old cups, and refilling them with yet another mixture.

"Come now, Ahk," Panya chuckled from across the table. "Gotta finish that second cup if you're gonna challenge me to this kind of a competition."

Ahkmen glared at her for a moment before raising his cup to his lips, knocking it back as he attempted to once again ignore every sensation happening in his throat.

"Good boy," you said, taking his cup and setting it on the shelf behind you.

Four more cups were then placed on the table, and the drinking continued.

By the fifth round, he was already inebriated, his tongue soaked in the numbing powers of this drink you had concocted. There was a part of his not-all-there brain that thought you had taken this drink from the underworld; some sort of backwards world where the Nile flowed with pure alcohol.

If you were telling the truth, and he quite well trusted your word this far, he could be dizzyingly intoxicated with your next drink. He barely had the state of mind to look at Panya, much less decode her own level of drunkenness. That left him blind to the status of his likelihood of winning. And yet, when the next cup was set down in front of him, he gulped it like a sober brewer. Panya did the same.

"Feeling a little of it now?" You asked with a grin.

"Some... something dike lat," he mumbled, his mouth smushed against the hand he supported his head on.

"Do you one finish?"

"... what?" Panya asked, her brow furrowed as she stared intensely at you.

"Do one of you give up?" You tried.

"Hell no," Panya said with an adamant shake of her head. "Get me another!"

"Me too!" Ahk said, raising his hand high as his head fell to the table, knocking against it with a loud thunk. He hissed, curling back on himself with little grace.

Panya snorted, leading into a long laugh as she cherished the look of drunken disdain painted over the Prince's face. You said nothing, but went to fulfill their requests, returning with the same drink as the last one.

"This my strongest drink. What you had before. It is good for you!"

"It may be good for me, but I think my friend over there is going to pass out," Panya said, grabbing you by your collar and forcing you to lean down so she could talk closer to your ear. You giggled.

"You have big strength," you said, stepping away as she downed yet another drink.

"Thank you, uh.. what's... your name?"

"... it is Yogi."

"Well then, Yogi. Another!"

If you had some sort of secret plan to get him to win, he was desperate to see it. This drink of yours had only seemed to be detrimental to him, not to Panya, and anxiousness stewed as he glanced into his cup. She was already ahead of him––to equalize the cards, he had to drink another cup, just to be equal.

You reentered the room as he knocked it back, carrying two more cups. When he set his cup down, you placed the others in front of him, and grabbed the empty one to clean it.

Ahkmen looked up, and through the haze of his thoughts, he might've seen you wink at him with a sly smile. Maybe. It was also possible you had just blinked and his eyes were being slow.

He grabbed his cup, and before he could think about it he chugged it. In a horrifying moment of clarity, he recognized the drink he'd had that morning––some sort of hangover cure that felt like smooth, squishy mud in his mouth. You returned a minute or two later, more drinks in hand. By then your mixture took effect, and much of his wooziness faded away, bringing him back to the land of sobriety before being offered his next cup.

It was all he needed.

Panya went on for a good long while, but without the special concoction she lost by the tenth round. During that time, Ahkmen had plenty enough beer, and had returned to the spinning thoughts of his alcohol-fueled brain, now focused on the one who had helped him so readily––you.

"What are – are you gonna do with... her?" Ahkmen asked through a half-stuffed nose, gesturing weakly to Panya, who had passed out in the corner only moments earlier.

"Do you know her parents?"

"... sort of," he answered vaguely. He definitely knew about them. Her father was Yafeu, and though he did not like Ahkmen, Ahkmen had a fair amount of information about him.

"Will they... scared, about her going.. missing?" You said, slowly piecing together a sentence you had clearly never said in Egyptian.

"You mean does she have to be home tonight?"

You nodded.

"She'll be fine. Her father will... worry, a little, but she can say she was sleeping in a friend's house. They won't.. uh... worry," he said in a mumble, laying his head to rest on your table.

"Then we put her to sleep. Let her rest for a while," you said, bowing your head as you collected the rest of the cups, disappearing behind yet another wall.

He tapped his fingers against the wood, keeping them close to his eyes so as to see his hand better. A long sigh left him.

"Will you go home? Or stay?" You asked upon your return.

"I – I have a lot of answers for you," he said, suddenly quite vindictive and stern as he pointed to you with a shaky finger. "And I want you.. to question..."

He trailed off as he realized his mistake. Embarrassment was clear on his face as he shriveled into himself, but you just giggled, sitting down across from him with a large bag in your lap.

"What is your questions?"

"What's your name? Your full name. You don't... seem happy when.. people say Yogi," he said, resting the majority of his weight on the pillows built up against one of the rare solid walls.

"Well, I come from a long travel. My name is not something many know here," you said with a shrug, digging your hands into the bag and rooting around it. "It is Yogasundari."

"Y.. yogetsury?" He tried on his clumsy tongue.

"Yogasundari. It is okay you can not say it. It is why most call me Yogi."

"So – where do you come from then? If y-you come from," he pushed down a hiccup, "from far away?"

"The east. My city was named Harappa. We live in a beautiful river, like you," you said, smiling a soft, thoughtful smile as you recalled images of your past. "Our city was great. Had all things. But my family is poor and it is easy to live here. We can make our own great.. um..."

"Riches?"

"Yes! Gold, and – and silk, you have, but we change the shape of iron," you said, your grin spreading into excitement. "We have good drinks. You want them here, so we come here, and we live much better than we live in Harappa."

"So you're... here with your family?" He asked in genuine curiosity, looking up at you from his collapsed position on the floor.

Your expression fell away, and an anxiousness overtook your demeanor.

"I was," you said, then frowned with spiteful eyes. "Those kings of yours kill my family, sell them. I love this, the river, but your kings are unjust. They take my parents and I never saw them again."

"I'm sorry," he murmured.

"It is okay. It is not your fault. I have a good home and I know how to stay away from soldiers. They go everywhere in this city. Not like my home. So that is why I am here," you said, gesturing to the patterned cloths that made up your ceiling.

"And it's just you here?"

"There is the cat," you said, looking back down to his chest, where unbeknownst to him, a thin, hairless cat had made a bed.

"Oh," he whispered softly, taken aback.

The purring was nice––actually, most of the cat's presence was nice, except when he went to pet it, and it raised its' head. At that point he saw the gaping holes where eyes were supposed to be, where they probably once were, and he just about jumped out of his skin, and would have if its' claws weren't kneading at his stomach.

"What the fuck," he whispered in a tense breath.

"She is good. Very kind. You do not worry."

"Where'd you find her?" He asked, eyes darting between you and the cat.

"On the street," you said, nodding. "She comes in for eating at some times."

"... delightful."

"What of you?" You asked. "What are you from?"

"I..." he paused, recalling your contempt for the royal family, and then the much earlier occurrence of Piye using a cover name. "... my father's a priest at Osiris' temple. Not the High one, but.. one of them. That's why I go to school there, and that's how I met Panya."

"Are you good friends?"

"Not really," he chuckled. "We have our fights but I respect her, most of the time."

"More with Piye, then?"

"Mm... yeah. How'd you meet them?"

"You have to ask them. They came in my home one day and asked for my brew."

"Which one?"

"The good one," you said with a wink that had Ahkmen snorting. "I have forgot to ask your name. Your friends name you two things."

What had Piye called him that morning? Panya had used Ahk, that he knew definitively.

"Ak'anpu," he answered after a moment's thoughts.

"It is a nice name," you said, bringing your lips to a glass contraption. With one flame on the other end, you breathed in deeply, exhaling thick clouds of smoke that easily outweighed the smoke of incense already flooding the ceiling.

"What is that?" Ahk asked with a groan as he brought himself to sit up, forcing your cat to jump off his middle.

"Shemet. I get it at the markets, by the river. It is good to sleep and calm down. Want to try?" You offered the tool to him.

"Sure," he said, though he was fairly certain he'd already had this before, and that you were simply pronouncing the name strangely.

From the taste alone he recognized it as something he and Piye had used extensively at some points. It didn't pair well with beer, which he knew from experience, so he took only one more puff before handing it back to you with a quiet 'thank you'.

"I must get home to my father, he's –" he tried to stand, falling back down when he tripped over his own feet. "He's gonna want to see me in the morning."

"You are a little... drunk to be seeing a father yet," you said, a grin tugging at your lips.

"That you are most certainly 'bight'," he said as he, again, attempted to stand.

When he nearly caught his head in one of your hanging scarves, you jumped to your feet, grabbing his arm and pulling his whole body back before he ran into it. He stumbled backwards, spinning around just in time to catch himself on the wall with you in front of him.

"Oh..." he stuttered, a warmer blush filling his head as he looked down at you. "I'm.. sorry."

But you just laughed, much harder than the times you had before, till a dark flush built in your creased cheeks, stark against your bright eyes.

"You are funny. It is alright," you said, patting his bare chest. "I don't think I trust you will get home safe."

"Is this because I'm drunk?" He asked in a teasing tone, leaning in closer with his own cocky smile. For a moment he worried your hand on his chest would feel the thundering of his heartbeat.

"It is because you are stupid," you said, ducking out from his grip and pulling the necklace from Panya's neck, handing it to him.

You took his hand in yours, carefully leading him out of your home without wrecking any of it. The ascent over the crates was a little more clumsy than usual, but in the end you both landed safe back in the regular streets of Memphis, the temple of Osiris to your right and the palace to your left.

"Which way is your home?" You asked, looking up at him after you confirmed it to be a vacant street.

"Easy there," he said as he raised his hands defensively. "I'm – can't go home this.. like this. I'm gonna go down to the Nile, and... I'm going to wash up."

"They say not to go by yourself," you said, following him when he turned to the right. "Dangerous animals."

"More guidelines than rules, really," he said as he shambled along. "And I have you now, d–don't I?"

"If fish eat your ass, I am not saving you," you said with a certainty.

Ahkmen spluttered into a laugh.

"What?" You asked, your own smile growing as you watched him, confused.

"Don't – don't ever say that again. Don't talk about anything eating ass," he said through a massive grin.

Once the two of you reached the river, which didn't take long at all, Ahkmen stripped himself of his garments, setting aside his jewelry in a neat row on the banks. His mother's necklace he set on his clothes, making sure not to dirty it in any way.

"It is funny how you Egyptians do this," you said, perching on one of the boulders present.

"Do what?" He asked, looking over his bare shoulder. Your eyes darted up from staring at something lower.

"Wash in the river."

"Not everyone does," he said, kneeling in the water. "A lot have small pools in their homes. Mostly the rich, I guess. Everyone else just bathes here."

"Maybe I am just... not knowing much about being without many clothes," you attempted to translate, the words clearly spinning in your head. You looked to him to see if he understood you.

"That I can see," he said, bringing the water over his legs and chest, trailing up to his face. "You've got quite a style. Very.. colorful. It looks expensive."

"I make my own clothes," you said with a small, but proud smile.

"You're a seamster?"

"I am many things."

"So I've seen," he chuckled. "How do you know so many things?"

"I had to learn. I had to teach me, from what I could see my family doing," you said, your feet wagging back and forth from the boulder's height. "I get not many people who.. who buy. But I have many things. I think it helps."

"Impressive," he said softly as he returned to washing himself.

By dunking his whole head into the cool water, he hoped to return more of his senses to himself, and with it his more prolific words. He didn't need drunken sentences messing up your understanding of him further. Besides, it was hard enough on its' own to try and piece together your own sentences that were jargled and brambled words of what you'd picked up in Memphis.

"Are you ready to go?" You asked after having fidgeted for several minutes, now letting your head hang upside-down off the rock.

"I suppose so," he said, rising to his feet. "I think I can probably bathe more once I get home. And if not, the morning will come, and I can wash then."

As spiritual an experience as it was to bathe in the lifeblood of Egypt, Ahkmen couldn't deny he missed the lavender soaps and gentle oils massaged and soaked into the skin.

He stumbled his way back to shore, slipping easily on the slick mud beneath him, making up the fertile silt of the Nile. You laughed from your vantage point, knocking your head back with the loudest belt of a laugh he'd ever heard. It was made especially amusing by the fact that such noise could come from someone so small. By the third time he slipped, though, you spared a little pity and climbed down from your tower to help him.

"You are funny," you said with the brightest grin he'd seen, offering him your hand with a long reach in an attempt to keep your shoes clean. Unlike Ahk's, they were made of a sort of fabric.

"I'm so sorry," he said, his legs shaky from his laughter and yours. "This doesn't usually happen."

He reached forward, setting his hand into yours, and allowing you to direct him forward. To your unfortunate surprise––though, still, very amused surprise––his weight ended up pulling both of you down, slipping into the shallow reaches of the river.

"Oh Gods," he said as he resurfaced. "I am so sorry, I -"

Your clothes, and you, were then soaked in both water and mud that easily stained to the palms of your hands as you hauled your heavy clothes out of the river. Wide eyes looked to him, your mouth open in surprise. He cringed backwards, a horribly apologetic look on his face as he watched you stand, shaking your body to test your new weight.

Glancing around your legs, midsection, and arms, you found mud dug into your elbows, your knees, around your hips, and all across your shoulders.

You laughed. Relief flooded him upon the sight of your smile, covering your mouth with a dirty hand.

"Don't we look like a dream?" You giggled.

#ahkmenrah x reader #Ahkmenrah #Night at the Museum #rami malek #rami malek character #ahkmenrah x male reader #ahkmenrah x female reader

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atalho-s · 3 years

Text

Sweet Sugar

1 | Subterranean Homesick Alien

(gif it’s not mine! let me know if you’re the owner!)

pairing: tom holland x reader / tom holland x brazilian reader (she’s from brazil here, but you can picture her being of any place that you want! Since the story wouldn’t change bc of that)

warnings: swear words, underage drinking (not much tho, nothing like “Skins” lmao), suggestive scenes in some chapters, not smut, but minors be aware. Fluff/angst/drama/ Y/n and Tom being stupid teenagers with feelings.

words: 2.4 k

Summary: Y/n has always been best friends with Harrison and Tom. Since childhood they've always been close, but what happens if after a break up with her first boyfriend, she starts to feel something more about Tom?

A conflict of feelings, the non-acceptance of falling in love and the fear of losing her best friend, all in the head of an 17-year-old teenager. And on top of that, still having to fear of not being accepted for college.

a/n:

This is a series i have in portuguese on my wattpad! It’s kinda long and have 2 parts haha but i decided to translate to post here too :)

It was my first fanfic ever, so be aware lol

I never been to europe, so i’m sorry for any mistake about city features or how school works...

I just want to thank @petesrparker : Gio you’re the best and thank you for always helping me and hype up this series since the beginning! Seriously, you’re the best, this story would be nothing without you 😭❤

She even did a playlist for this! ikr? She’s amazing 💕 you can check out here if you want!

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It was 2 minutes to 7am and I was late for school. Running to put on my warm sweatshirt and getting ready psychologically to go out in a cold weather, I grabbed my keys and tried to lock the door almost dropping my backpack on the floor. It was almost summer, but my town wasn't disappointed in having very cold mornings and hot afternoons.

"Shit," I murmured as I kicked the door, insisting that didn't want to close it. "Why hasn't my mom called someone to fix this thing yet?" I spoke to myself and finally managed to close it hearing a click. Coming down the stairs practically running, I closed the small gate and strode down the street.

I lived with my parents in a town called Kingston-upon-Thames, in a tiny two-bedroom house, very close to the school. You just need to walk about 4 blocks and voilá, I could already see the entrance gate and the familiar faces of the gringos. I was in the last year of high school, just turned 17 and I was born in Brazil, but grew up in London, when my father had to move because of his work, when I was only 6 years old. Obviously we weren't rich, my father worked with woodwork, and my mother currently worked in a small flower shop in the city center. But when my father received an offer to move to another country, he didn't think twice. Learn another culture, a new language and still earn some good money?An offer that cannot be refused.

The first time we arrived it was very strange, only my father knew intermediate English and my mother and I obviously did not know a single word. But we quickly befriended a family that lived on our street: the Osterfields. Jenna and Carter were the parents of two children: Harrison, the same age as me and little Charlotte (newborn at the time). Harrison and I immediately became inseparable, and he became like a brother to me and our families became one.

Obviously with him, also came nothing more and nothing less than: the Holland family. Nikki and Dom had 4 male children, one my age: Tom, Harry and Sam twins, 3 years younger and Paddy who was born 2 years later. So the family just grew, our parents became best friends, and me, Harrison and Tom became an unbeatable trio. There was no Y/n, without Tom and Harrison and vice versa, we're always together.

We went to the same school since always. As Haz lived only a few houses below mine, we meet and go together and Tom, who lived on the other side of the school, met us at the gate every day.

I went down the street and saw Haz sitting on the wall in front of his house, fiddling with his cell phone with a earphone, as soon as I approached he raised his head and smiled.

- Finally, I thought you aren’t going to class today. - He said getting up and giving me a kiss on the cheek.

- Good morning to you too Haz. - I said laughing and hooking my arm on him, while we went down the street. - You know that now that my mom is working on the other side of town she leaves early and then I have to wake up by myself, which is clearly a problem.

- Sleepyhead, - he said and I playfully tapped his arm while he laughed.

- Well, i'm, what can I say? Sleeping is the best thing in the world. - I said. - Did you do the history homework?

- Wich history homework? - He stopped suddenly looking at me in shock.

- Harrison Osterfield, you are not going to tell me that you forgot the work that I talked about it every day for almost a month. - I said putting my hand on my waist scolding him.

- Well ... I completely forgot. - Haz said scratching the back of his head with the face of a stray dog. -I was busy decorating the lines from the play.

- Wow Harrison, that way you will fail and then you'll came crying to me.

- Ok mom, sorry! But was it for today? Can I copy it and give it to you later?

- Ok, but just this time, and do me a favor to exchange practically all the words I used or i'll be in trouble. - I said taking out my briefcase, while he held my backpack and I handed him my work.

- I love you... - he said giving me back my backpack and hugging me, kissing my head afterwards.

- And I don't love you at all, bummer. - I giggled and we rounded the corner of the school.

Tom was already leaning against the side of the gate with his backpack between his legs, talking to a guy who was doing theater with him and Harrison. He was laughing at something, wearing a black hoodie, his hair was a little messy under his hood and his nose was slightly red from the cold. For some reason my stomach did some flips as we approached.

Harrison and Tom were very handsome, there was no denying it, they were half nerds, half bad boys (in the sense of forgetting to study for the exam or not doing their homework once in a while), they did theater, they were nice and got along very well with girls since they started puberty. As for me, I was the nerd who was always concerned about grades and getting into the journalism college, I didn't always have excellent grades, but they were enough to pass or impress the professors when I felt inspired. I wasn't popular, but not a completely ghost too, because being best friends with the boys ended up calling attention in some way.

The only boyfriend I had was a guy named Steven, and also my first kiss, to at age 15, but we broke up last year. Steven was cool, but we had different views on things and use to think about completely different futures, so we thought it was best to broke up. And since then I'm alone and very well, thank you.

But since I broke up with Stev, for some reason I've started to have some weird feelings for Tom. Weird in the meaning of being shy around him, with whatever he does, or whatever words he exchanges with me. Which is ridiculous, because he's my childhood friend, and I never felt any of that with Haz, so why with him I feel? I always saw Haz as my brother, but with Tom it's different, and I never understood why.

Anyway, here I was with my heart beating faster and faster as we approached. As soon as we got close, Tom waved goodbye to the guy he was talking. He grabbed his backpack off the floor and patted Haz on the back, kissing my forehead afterwards, which I immediately feel my cheeks burning with embarrassing, but no one realized.

- Hey mates! Finally! I thought you weren't coming anymore.- he said as the three of us went through the gate towards the school.

- The madam here, was the one who ended up sleeping too much, I was also waiting a long time.- Haz said and I rolled my eyes, making Tom smile.

- I understand Y/n, I also love sleeping... By the way, I said I was waiting a long time, but actually I just arrived. - He laughed - Your mother started working on that flower shop, right?

- Yeah! She started today, so I'm still getting used to waking up just with the alarm without my mom pulling me from under the covers by my hair.- I replied and they both laughed.

- Which class do you guys have now? - Tom asked as we went up the stairs to the first floor where the class rooms were.

-Math- Haz said, rolling his eyes. - Actually, I really have to go, because if I show up a second late again Mr. Jones will kill me. - he said giving us a brief wave and running to the opposite side.

- I have philosophy, thank God, one of my favorite subjects.- I said raising my hands to the sky as a joke and Tom laughed.

- Wow y/n, I thought your favorite subject was biology and English.- he said and I stuck out my tongue, but feeling a little warm inside, these subjects were the ones we had together.

- Anyway, see you later? I have physics now unfortunately.

- Yeah, I'll be at our new favorite place. - I giggle, it had been a week since me, Haz and Tom found a perfect place to stay during the break, which was on the back of the school, on a hill next to a tree, where we had a full view of the students down there. It was perfect, because the warm morning sun was shining and we'd be left on the ground gossiping and watching what others were doing.

- See you there shortie. -Tom said kissing the top of my head, giving me a wink and leaving towards his class room.

- Look who's talking. - I said loudly for him to hear and he showed me his middle finger from a distance, laughing at my face.

I turned around smiling and headed towards my class. The first two classes were normal, nothing new, I was still a little sleepy, so I ended up almost sleeping in the second geography class, where I was almost kicked out by Mr Wilson, who let It pass this time. The alarm hit indicating it was break time and I thanked God, practically running to stay out in the sun.

I grabbed my phone from my pocket and my headphones, hitting play on Radiohead's Subterranean Homesick Alien song and walking outside. I saw Steven with his new girlfriend Lily right on the way out, they were talking, hugging each other and looked very happy, he saw me and gave a smile from a distance where I reciprocated. Our break up went very well, without resentment, which made me happy.

I walked up the small hill and saw Haz and Tom already at our meeting place. Tom was lying down looking at the sky while Haz was sitting propped up in the tree.

- Did you guys miss me? - I said sitting next to Haz.

- Yeah, we were even thinking about how we could handle living without you y/n- Haz said and Tom chuckled.

- I know you two love me. - I said shrugging.

- In fact, we were arguing when you're going to have a new boyfriend. - Tom said and I froze.

- And who said I want a new boyfriend? I asked raising my eyebrow.

- We know you y/n, you starting to have your head in the clouds lately, always retweeting couple things and posting romantic songs, I can see that you're falling in love again.- Tom said, still looking at the sky.

- I agree. - Haz said taking the side of my earphone and putting into his ear. - She's even listening to Radiohead! And you always listen to Radiohead when you're in love. - I gave them a sarcastic laugh and pulled the earphone of his ear turning off the music making Haz laugh.

- You guys are idiots, I'm fine alone thank you, I just want to focus on my studies from now on. - I said and they both made a "hmm" in unison, making me roll my eyes.

- Actually, we were discussing where we're going to celebrate my 17th birthday tomorrow.- Tom said changing the subject, turning his head and covering the sun with his hand to look at me.

-Tomorrow is your birthday?- I asked pretending to be surprise and Tom rolled his eyes playfully.

- I know you two always look forward to my birthday, because you love me and want to surprise me.- he said and Haz and I laughed ironically. - But Marcos offered his house, because his parents are traveling, so we could make a cool party there! So I was thinking about calling the theater people and some of our friends like Julian, Tuwaine and etc, maybe getting some drinks too... - Tom said sitting down and cleaning some leaves that were stuck on his hoodie.

- I think it's a good idea, I'm not much of partying or drinking, but with you both I always have fun.- I said and Haz rested his head on my shoulder.

- Good to know we make you happy Y/n. - Haz said and I giggle patting his head.

- So we meet tomorrow? You guys want to stop by my house so we could go together?

- Actually, I have to go to my granny first, so I'll go from there.- Haz said and Tom gave him a thumbs up.

- Y/n you can go? Around 7pm it's ok?

-Of course Tommy. - I said and he smiled at the nickname.

- Okay, I'll wait for you at 7pm and I'll send you the address, mate.- he said to Haz as we got up listening to the bell ringing indicating the break was over.

- Deal!- Haz said.

- Deal. - I also said as we went down back to class.

The last classes were history, the subject I had with Haz and he returned my homework, assuring me that he had changed the words. We spend the whole class sending notes talking about nonsense and making jokes. Haz and I were pretty good at sending notes without the professor seeing.

But I confess I was puzzled by what the boys had said earlier, how did they have the impression that I was in love? I wasn't, was I? Was I showing too much that i had feelings for Tom? I don't know, I just know that the whole story had left me with immense anxiety.

The class was over and I said goodbye to Haz, because he had theater with Tom and I didn't have any extra activities that day. The only days that i had something was on monday, tuesday and thursday, when I have a school reinforcement to improve my notes to enter college. Which was a relief, since I had to run to the mall to look for a gift to give Tom for his birthday. I had been looking for weeks and I didn't find anything interesting to give to my best friend. Best friend isn't it? Nothing more than this...

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a/n: if you liked and want to be tagged on the next chapters let me know! 😊

#tom holland #tom holland fanfic #tom holland imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x y/n #tom holland x you #tom holland friends to lovers #tom holland angst #tom holland fluff #tom holland series

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cdyssey · 3 years

Text

Regret

Summary: When Fran doesn't come down to breakfast after spraining her ankle, the whole house is concerned for her—especially Niles and Mr. Sheffield. Set after "An Affair to Dismember."

A/N: Okay, so I've binge re-watched nearly four seasons of The Nanny in four days, and had to get at least one fic out of my system, lmao.

Fran Drescher's acting in "An Affair to Dismember" when she suddenly broke while talking to Maxwell made me sensitive. ;-;

AO3 Link

—

Breakfast is a remarkably boring affair without Miss Fine bursting through the door, raising her arms in a floral robe, and proclaiming, with signature adenoidal stylings, “Good moooorning, everyone!”

The clink of silverware, the scraping of ceramic plates, the ruffling sound of Mr. Sheffield anxiously attacking the New York Times like a new Andrew Lloyd Webber play has just dropped—all of it is so terribly drab that Niles spends the first fifteen minutes of her pronounced absence coughing loudly in the hopes that his employer will pick up the hint to do something about it.

“Oh, do go get a bloody cough drop, old man,” he finally snaps, smacking his newspaper down on the table. “You’re driving me mad.”

“Sorry, sir,” Niles arches a brow as he refills Mr. Sheffield’s coffee mug. “I have asthma.”

He turns away to replace the coffee pot on the side table.

“And half a mind to kick your tetchy derrière,” he mutters under his breath.

“What was that, Niles?”

“Nothing, sir! Just saying thank you for your attentive care.”

“Dad,” Master Brighton thankfully interrupts, “where’s Fran, and what have you done to make her mad this time?”

Niles immediately turns around again in time to see his boss’s shoulders straighten in that way they often do when he’s indignant.

Or guilty.

Or some mixture of them both.

“I beg your pardon, Brighton,” he replies stiffly. “Why do you immediately assume I’m the problem here?”

“Process of elimination,” Brighton shrugs. “Fran’s not mad at me, Maggie, or Grace, and Niles is one of her closest friends.”

“You’re so astute, Master Brighton,” Niles smiles wryly as he moves to the left to get a better view of Mr. Sheffield’s face. The vein in his temple is beginning to throb, which is always a good time.

“She hasn’t dated anyone recently,” Miss Margaret pipes up.

“And she’s always fighting with her ma,” Miss Grace adds, “but that's never kept her from Belgian waffles before.”

“So, Dad,” Brighton grins, patting his father once on the back, “unless our math is wrong, that leaves you.”

“Goodness me,” Mr. Sheffield mutters, angrily stabbing a piece of link sausage with his fork. “I didn’t know I was in the presence of the lost Hardy Boy.”

“So you did do something!” Margaret exclaims.

“No! I bloody well did not, Nancy Drew. For your information, Miss Fine accidentally hurt her ankle clubbing last night with Val. I don’t think it’s broken, but I’ve called a doctor to come by just to check.”

“Tsk, tsk. And you didn’t offer to pick her up Cinderella-style and swoop her downstairs so she wouldn’t miss breakfast?” Niles asks chidingly, only to be greeted with a nasty glare.

“Yes, I did offer to bring her down to breakfast as a matter of fact... but Miss Fine seemed strangely subdued when I spoke to her through the door... I didn’t know what to make of it to tell you the truth...”

Mr. Sheffield’s brow contracts as he searches Niles’s face for an answer, and Niles stares back just as studiously, observing the profound concern in his employer’s dark eyes.

The gentleness.

The romance.

The stunningly oblivious care.

Niles sighs fondly.

Unlike Miss Babcock, he’s never had the heart to kick poor puppies when they’re down.

“I’ll bring her Advil and a fresh ice pack,” he promises. “Perhaps some pain relief will help her to regain her spirit.”

“I hope so,” Mr. Sheffield replies, self-consciously turning to his plate again, the tips of his ears rather pink. “I hate when Miss Fine isn’t feeling well.”

“Here, here,” the whole table concurs.

—

Twenty minutes later, Niles is at Miss Fine’s door with a silver tray laden with all the essentials: painkillers, an ice pack, a mug of coffee (milk instead of cream and extra sugar), and a copy of the new edition of Gloss. He lightly taps on her door with the side of his loafer.

“Miss Fine, can I come in?”

“No,” comes an immediate and sharp reply. “I’m not dressed!”

“How discouraging,” Niles sighs smilingly. “What ever shall I do?”

“Suff’a, and at least give me a minute to find a brassiere.”

“Oh, we’ll be here all day then.”

He hears a strange thud, a collection of evaluations (“dirty, dirty, slutty, Maggie’s, dirty”), and an assortment of Yiddish curse words he now vaguely recognizes from being friends with Miss Fine for nearly four years now. And then finally—

“Come in, Jeeves, but shut the door behind ya ‘cuz I haven’t applied a morning layer of lipstick yet.”

Niles elbows the knob and pushes with his shoulder until the door lights open to a peculiar sight. Far from being neat, Miss Fine’s room looks like Macy’s after its annual Black Friday sale with clothes strewn everywhere—from the dressers to the wardrobes to the floor. An empty suitcase is lying on the bed next to Miss Fine, who is sitting in bed wearing an oversized t-shirt, her injured ankle propped up on a pillow. Niles can tell, even from the doorway, that it’s red and swollen, but to his satisfaction and relief, it doesn’t appear to be broken.

“Welcome to the jungle,” Miss Fine mutters when she notices his incredulous gaze. “We got all the animals out t’day.”

“I can see that,” Niles replies, placing his tray on her bedside table and shutting the door. With his usual efficiency, he then walks back over, retrieves the ice pack, and gently places it on the affected area, frowning when she flinches.

“Mr. Sheffield said that the doctor was coming at ten,” he says as he gently lowers himself onto the bed, clasping his hands primly on top of his lap.

“Mm,” Fran grunts noncommittally, grabbing the two Advil pills and knocking them back with a swig of coffee.

“What? You’re not curious as to whether or not said doctor in question is single, Jewish, and living in a Manhattan penthouse? Miss Fine”—Niles reaches over and places the back of his hand on Fran’s head—“do you have a fever?”

“Oh, Niles,” she swats his hand away, “I’m not in the mood.”

“It’s been awhile since I’ve heard that one.”

“Niles!”

“Sorry, Miss Fine,” he withdraws his hand with a laugh. “You know I have to warm up before Miss Babcock arrives.”

“Glad to assist,” Fran quips, taking another sip of coffee, and it’s only as she closes her eyes to savor the taste, that he notices there are lines beneath her eyes from what seems to have been a sleepless night.

The smile sinks from his face.

“You know,” he says quietly, “in all of our acquaintance, I’ve never known of you to injure yourself while dancing.”

Fran opens her eyes only to immediately glance away, tapping her long nails against her mug.

“Val tripped me up when she thought she saw Elton John,” she shrugs dully. “Turns out it was just a really lifelike poster of him behind the bar...”

“I see,” Niles returns, raising a brow. “It was nice of Miss Toriello to forgo her weekend trip with her parents to come back and… boogie woogie oogie with you.”

“Dammit,” she pouts, scrunching her nose. “I didn’t think I’d told you that.”

“You didn’t. I overheard you and Miss Toriello gabbing on the phone about it yesterday morning.”

Fran can’t seem to help herself; she smiles crookedly, even as she shakes her head.

“I dunno who’s more absorbent sometimes—you or the dish sponge.”

He smiles back at her, patting her uninjured leg gently.

“Me, naturally."

"I can believe it, Chatty Cathy," she sighs.

"Now tell me, Miss Fine"—he regains his solemnity quickly, unwilling to let her deflect with jokes—"why does your room look like a tornado went through Loehmann’s?”

Her dark eyes immediately glance around the messy room, as though looking for an excuse and failing to find one.

It’s only now that Niles is sitting down, taking everything in, that he notices that most of the articles strewn about are her favorite clothing items, from her holographic Versace dress to the black tube top that Mr. Sheffield can’t pry his eyes away from every time she wears it.

“I almost did a very stupid thing, Niles,” she half-whispers, looking down into her coffee cup, her fingers tensed and shivering around the handle. “And the thing is, maybe it wasn’t really all that stupid? Maybe it was the smartest thing I could of done in a lifetime of doin’ so many stupid things.”

She pauses briefly before sardonically adding, “People included.”

Though Niles doesn’t have enough dots to connect the full picture, he has what he needs in the way of evidence to get the basic gist: Nigel being in town, the two of them going out, Nigel leaving town, the suitcase, the swollen ankle, and Miss Fine's uncharacteristic melancholy, smeared across her face so sharply that it may as well be lipstick.

He swallows thickly, suddenly grasping how close that they had all been to losing Fran forever.

“Well,” he says, making an effort to hitch an oblivious smile on his face, “isn’t it your mother who says that everything happens for a reason? It seems as though you’re right where you belong.”

“Yeah,” she snorts indelicately. “Twenty-nine multiple times over, single, and livin’ in a mansion with a man who won’t even commit to his meal orders at restaurants, much less his very available and desperate nanny.”

“Beautiful, young, and living in a mansion with three children who love you, a butler who’d be lost without you, and a man who won’t commit to his tie choices either but still cares for you deeply all the same,” Niles corrects her softly. “He was very worried for you when you didn’t come down to breakfast this morning. He didn’t even do the crossword on the Times.”

“Gee,” she rolls her eyes playfully, “how romantic.”

“Very,” Niles grins, “a modern day Romeo—emotional hangups and all.”

With that, he pats Fran again and stands up; he has no doubt that Mr. Sheffield will be calling for him soon to interrogate him as to Miss Fine’s wellbeing.

Maybe he can even get C.C. on speaker phone to rub it in her face.

“Y’know, Niles,” Fran smiles at him fondly, “if this whole Mr. Sheffield thing doesn’t work out, we should elope in Vegas in ten yea's.”

“Only if you wear this little number,” he says, bending down and picking up a black cocktail dress from the floor, folding it neatly over his arm.

“You wish you could be so lucky.”

“If we’re going to be in Vegas, anything can happen, I suppose.”

After he retrieves the silver tray from the bedside table, he bends down and kisses Miss Fine lightly on the head, his heart hurting when he notices the way that she closes her eyes beneath the gentle touch—young and vulnerable and terribly hurt by something he can’t quite fix with a well-timed witticism.

“Get some rest, Miss Fine," her murmurs against her head. "I'll check on you a bit."

“Thanks, hubby."

—

Scarcely ten minutes later, he’s down in Mr. Sheffield’s office as per usual, offering the producer a fresh cup of tea even though he had already drunk his traditional two cups at breakfast.

He insisted, though, on a third, for some excuse he couldn’t quite come up with.

And instead of coming up with an excuse, he immediately asked for all the particulars of Miss Fine’s health.

Predictable chump.

“Thanks, old boy,” Mr. Sheffield frowns, returning to his crossword, tapping the end of his pen arrhythmically against the paper. “Let me know when the doctor for Miss Fine arrives. I want to be there when he checks her over.”

“Ooh la-la-la,” Niles hums, dropping a sugar cube into the tea with a zesty plop.

Mr. Sheffield places his pen down on the desk angrily.

“Not like that… I just want to ensure she’s going to be well… you know, for the children’s sake.”

“Yes,” he sighs theatrically. “How will the children ever be able to bear their nanny having a twisted ankle?”

“Oh, shut up,” Mr. Sheffield snaps. “I don’t pay you to be sarcastic.”

“No, sir, you pay me to help you with the crossword when you’re missing three-across,” Niles smirks knowingly when he glances down at the incomplete puzzle. “What’s the hint?”

Mr. Sheffield adjusts his wire-rimmed glasses on the bridge of his nose before looking down again.

“A word that means feeling bad for not doing something that you should have done all along. Disappointment. A sense of shame.”

Niles straightens up with a long-suffering shake of his head.

“Oh, sir, do I really have to spell it out for you?”

#the nanny #fran fine #niles the butler #maxwell sheffield #maggie writes

59 notes · View notes

chasseuses · 3 years

Text

reasons why i love jade leech part 3

I don't know why I'm doing this again I am a big fool goodbye ☠️ but ahhahahwhahjwhsjfhfjfnfkbdsjbdkdbjd im a doormat for him so. haha. I'll just. fukcignvkjgknv everyone pls look away this is the last post i swear 🤩

Part 1, 2

So.... 🤡 Hi I'm back again with another simp post I'm your local Jade simp and I'm here to point out reasons why I'm an absolute doormat for this eel and why I'm staying as one.

I'M FUCKIFNCGD. SCRVEN AMWIANAJWBAJVWKQVWKAGAKAVDKFBYKDGSKEIANSJAMEINSLENDKEBEKSBEKSHEKDJEKSJRKDJRKDHSKDHKEHSKEBSKEJDLDHDKDBDKHRKDBEKSHEKSUSMS

Ok so, URGFKFHDKDUDKSJSKFHDKGDKDHD if you've been here long enough or something i think i posted something about his initial birthday suit up illustration here which i wrote while i was sobbing and being overly emotional over him.

BUT BASICALLY. IT WAS ABOUT HIS SMILE. I MEAN RTHGJKHJGK JADE LEECH..... SMILING.............N N .VJV.JV. WITHOUT ANY ULTERIOR MOTIVES...... IM FUCKFING DEAD YO!!!!!

HEAR ME OUT. I JUST GJVKJGKVNGKV ... dont u think there's just something about someone as shady as jade who looks shady 90% of the time look like he's not shady for the first time ༎ຶ‿༎ຶ

idk if that made sense but yeah.

ALSO IDK IF ANYONE WAS SIMPING HARD ENOUGH TO NOTICE BUT LIKE 😭 IF U COMPARE HIS HANDS TO FLOYD'S THERE'S A DIFFERENCE.

and now if you've known me long enough to know that i am a big fan of his hands, you'll know that i went absolutely crazy over this detail!!!!!! THEY WERE ROUGHER THAN FLOYD'S AND THAT WAS JUSTHGJJGKGKFNKFKGNGKGNFKDDJFKGNGKFJF A DIRECT HIT TO THE GUT WHAT THE FUCK DISPLEX YOU CANT DO THIS TO US 😭😭😭😭😭

do u see the fork he's holding?

yeah

i wanna be that fork so bad

im not even kidding

i legit want to be that fork.

why?

haha.

you dont need to know

ANYWAYS. ONTO THE STORY 🥰

we got a lot of lore for the twins this time around and i am tHRIVING :BIBBEK:

"However, and this is unusual for me, but so many people wishing me ‘Happy birthday’ has made me rather embarrassed." HELP?????????&(&!4(£;#(-__8-##(-_(£+£(£ I II I I I I HUCHJWNWISHEJDHWOHSKWGSKSYAKGSKA HI KAUAKSGKAGSKSGSJAYJAGSJAGAJSYSIGSJGSJSHSJAHsks

Their mother!!! Uses!!! -san!!!! At the end of their names!!!!!!! Which got me going 🧐 that is not usual at all!!!!! wtf is going on in the leech household

a lot of ppl theorized mafia stuff and all of that which honestly makes sense imo and also because i find that hella hot HAHSMDGSKDHKSJS mr leech...... 😳 mafia.... HELPGKFJKGJFKF

wait. won't that mean he's rich.

bonus points eyy /j GFJFHFJDHJFNF

"Well, they do say that married couples take after each other… It’s good that they get along well." MR LEECH YOUR HAND IN MARRIAGE RFNJVJKHKGKGKOGJGKVJKFCKIJGKTJKFFJKDHDKXHFFHFJ

guys im losing it

if that wasn't already obvious RHUFHGUF

HELLO????????? ONE OF THE REASONS WHY HE LIKES TERRARIUMS??1?"!"!'! HELPFKVKV CONTROL IT'S CONTROL

"Whether they live or die is also up to me…" i just think.

no i dont think but you get what i mean why the fuck is that line lowkey hot lmfao something is wrong with me

i dont knwo why the fuck but the fact that he likes unpredictability is also kinda????? lmao how boring was ur life that everything u did went exactly your way 😭 how does that bring u amusement i cant relate gomen mr leech

or am i completely wrong idk 🗿 mr leech tell me more about you onegai

Ok honestly, before the birthday card came out, I thought their earrings were like,,, from their parents or something. like heirlooms!! i thought they were precious in that aspect but what i rlly didn't expect is for them to fckinghgkgngknfkf FIGHT A DAMN STURGEON FOR ITS SCALES 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭

deadass why would a sturgeon challenge them anyways 🧐 and the twins were just like, "ok sure but can we have your scales if we win" and they rlly did 😭 just how strong were you guys before middle school wtf!!!!

and they turned the scales into earrings 🧐 which is now what they wear!! p cute

they're apparently popular to use as amulets in the coral sea so i. i fucking rotted over this AHHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHHA hrufhfigjofhckfbcjc should i delve deeper into this? no. but perhaps you can find out what my rot is about just by reading this single bullet

"Floyd and I have gone near beaches on nights with fireworks as well." HELEPEHLEPDFKLEGSLDOSODB EGHFKCNDKMCURLDHLDGSMX

WATCHIFNFG FIREOEKSKF WITHHF JADE AJFNJFVJFHKDHF

ohmigod this is getting way longer than intended 🤡 should i continue

yeah fucj it HFJVHFJHCJFHJCJ everybody pls ignore my rot 😌

as all of you know, jade wears purple eyeliner. that's right.

Purple eyeliner.

Why does this matter, you ask? Oh sweet summer child, it may not matter to you but to me—eyeliner is super fucking hot I kid you not I started crying at night when I thought about this and wrote a mini essay about it like a fool so I'm just going to.

I am legitimately losing my shit over this like-?? Who allowed you to fucking put on eyeliner? You're already deadly without them and more so with them.

It honestly makes me wonder if he puts this on his own or not but seeing how deft he is with his hands, it's not a stretch to assume that he puts it on his own.

And I find that really hot since look at those clean strokes..!! He's better at applying them than me. I have this desire to let him do my makeup but when I think about it I start making incomprehensible noises and bury my face into my pillow. Purple eyeliner just-? Looks so good on him?

It should be illegal at this rate he looks so tempting I hate it. Sometimes I just have this urge to ruin in, I don t care how I just want to smudge it for some reason. Like deadass, I just want you all to appreciate how good his eyes look!

HELP HIS EYESDHFHTKHEKFHDKFHDMFHKDHFKSGDK IM FUCKFINDG LSOING IT

WHY DO I LOVE HIS EYES SO MUCH I DONT FUCKING KNOW I'VE NEVER BEEN A FAN OF CHARACTERS WITH MISMATCHED EYES BUT WITH HIM IM JUSTHGJJFJG KG NVM

His eyes are fucking beautiful, man. 🤡💞 Could stare at them for hours and never get tired!!!!

Need I say more?

BRO IM FUVKGIGNVJKGVKNGKFHFKFFJF HIS TEETH IM CRYIGGN WHAT THE ACTUALLY FUCK I KNEW THEY WERE SHARP BUTJGKVJGKGJFKGJCKFJKCFJKFFHKCJFKGJDOFHKDHFKDHDKDHDJ BARKBARKBARKBARK

I mean what 🗿

guys displex is insane because they literally made jade have two ssrs in a row with banners that were available at the same time do you know how painful that was for me

when jamil bday card dropped all i lost ebg because i panicked over the thought of a jade bday card and started saving!!! and i did!!!! i managed to save up 100 pulls and i was so fucking chill after that but then,

abema stream happened

i was asleep when that happened so when i woke up i had like 283628 pings in discord telling me that he has an ssr for the halloween event and i was just 🗿 yo say sike his bday is soon displex must be joking

haha nope! they were dead serious.

that shit was painful i started crying 🤡 what the fuck because i didn't have enough gems for both ssrs and his halloween card was just absolutely beautiful.

so i went insane and saved 200 copies of the same jade card in attempt to make him come home before pity so i dont have to whale

I mean,

Black nails.

The bandages.

The harness.

The hat is kinda ugly but that's ok.

THE BELTS AT HIS WAISTFJTKDJRKFBFKFHOFHDKDHDKSGDKSHSKXHSKJS

SO I WAS REALLY DESPERATE AHHSHDHFJFGHJFJF THANKFULLY THEY BOTH CAME HOME BEFORE PITY SO TYSM JADE I LOVE U FOR THAT AHAHJAHDJ

oh shit this got long so imma just end this here 🐬 if you read this far, congrats HAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

#reasons why i love jade leech #twisted wonderland #twst #twst meme #disney #jade leech #octavinelle #twst jade #twisted wonderland jade #simp post #HELP IM CRYINGJGJFKFK I JUST #I DONT KNOW WHAT CAME OVER ME I JUST HAD THE NEED TO MAKE THIS #🗿🗿🗿🗿🗿 PLEASKEKDKD I JUST LOVE HIM #bRO I #stan jade leech #o shit o fuck 🤡#i just realized what i wrote in this whole post #i am not thirsty i swear

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spine-buster · 3 years

Text

The President Wears Prada (William Nylander) | Chapter 32

A/N: Another ‘friend’ of ours makes an appearance in this chapter (unfortunately for me lmao)

August 2nd, 2020

Aberdeen Bloom was as prepared as she could be for Game 1 against the Columbus Blue Jackets.

Scotiabank Arena was freezing – more freezing than normal – because of the three-games-a-day and all the hockey being played. She knew the players and team personnel would complain if the ice was crap (apparently they could tell, though it beat the shit out of her how they could tell), and of course Scotiabank Arena, and the Leafs in general, wanted to make an excellent impression. They were the centre of the hockey world, so Aberdeen knew they could pull it off. It just didn’t help that it was August and it felt like early November indoors.

She joined Brendan and Kyle in their usual box – luckily they didn’t have to give that up. The team was taking their pre-game skate below and Aberdeen watched as William shot pucks towards Freddie in the net, sneaking one past him before skating around their perimeter of the rink a few times. On the other side of the ice, the Columbus Blue Jackets were doing the exact same thing, though she barely knew or recognized a soul on the team. One of them could walk by her in the arena and she wouldn’t know better.

“How do you think it’s gonna go?” Brendan asked from six feet away from her, his black mask covering his face.

Aberdeen shrugged her shoulders. “You should stop asking me these questions, Brendan. I know nothing about hockey.”

“That may be,” he said, not letting up, “but you know the boys, on a level far superior than your knowledge of hockey. So what do you say?”

Aberdeen thought about it. She knew them on a personal level, but that didn’t matter at all – at least she didn’t think it mattered – when it came to a playoff game. She knew how much pressure the guys were under. She also knew that they were still adjusting to the bubble life and how weird everything was. Make no mistake – they were being taken care of exceptionally well by the staff at the Royal York Hotel, and Aberdeen made sure she said a loud thank you to every worker she came across and interacted with. She heard every single one of the guys do the exact same thing. But she didn’t know how that would translate into a hockey game. They were two different things. They were to different entities that she had no idea how to join together.

“I don’t know,” she shrugged, her voice soft. “When you ask me these questions, I feel like you want me to be Nostradamus or something. What if I said they were going to lose 2-0?”

“I’d believe you,” Brendan shrugged.

***

The Leafs lost 2-0.

“C’mon Nostradamus,” Brendan said as he packed up his clipboard and tucked it under his arm. “The social media posts can wait. You need to go mediate the post-game interviews and press calls.”

Aberdeen packed up her iPad after she rolled her eyes. She shouldn’t have said anything. She should have responded ‘They’re going to win 5-0!’ the first time he ever asked her that question and kept that answer throughout the entire season. She followed six feet behind Kyle, who was in turn six feet behind Brendan, as they made their way to the locker room. By the time they got there, Sheldon was nearing the end of his post-game speech. Most of the guys were half undressed – at least at the top – and a few of them were shoving off their elbow pads and chucking their tape from their socks into the bins. They all looked irritated.

She made her way into the media room and set up the Zoom call where a bunch of reporters joined. Morgan and Auston walked into the room, and she quickly typed in the chat which players were there so they could organize their questions accordingly. Morgan and Auston sat down in their chairs.

“Is Steve on the call?” Auston asked suddenly while Aberdeen was adjusting the camera.

“Uh, yeah. Why?” she asked.

Auston pursed his lips together and shrugged it off.

The interviews were going fine. She hated hearing the sound of her own voice on recordings but she knew she’d have to suck it up for the sake of the media call. She called on each reporter by name. The boys answered their questions. It was all very routine.

“Steve Simmons from the Toronto Sun,” Aberdeen called out. She waited, and while waiting, she saw Morgan’s and Auston’s demeanour completely change.

“Uhhh, Steve Simmons, Toronto Sun for Auston – it’s one thing to hear about how tight they play, and to even watch the films of how tight they play. What was it like to experience it?”

Auston took the lead. “Uh, well I mean first of all, it’s unfortunate that I’mn getting a question from you at this point, Steve, but I just wanted to say I didn’t really appreciate the article you wrote about me a couple months ago. I thought, uh, it was very unethical to be honest, but…uh, moving along…”

Aberdeen didn’t hear the rest of his answer. Truthfully, she didn’t care. All she could feel was a burning sensation shooting up her spine at Auston’s words. He did it. He called out Steve Simmons, the most annoying reporter known to mankind.

She smirked.

***

After the media interviews, Aberdeen found a quiet space and took out her iPad again to post the final score graphic to the team’s Instagram page. As she finished typing the caption – ‘Battled hard. Back at it on Tuesday.’ – she heard some fairly loud footsteps behind her before they stopped. “A girl?” a voice from behind her said.

She didn’t recognize it – and it wasn’t like anybody from the team would refer to her as “a girl” – so she furrowed her brows and turned around. She saw what had to be a member of the Columbus Blue Jackets staring at her. She couldn’t see it, but she automatically knew from the way he was standing and the energy he gave off that he was smirking smugly underneath his mask. “Yeah, we exist,” she shot him a look, not ready to take any bullshit from him or anybody else. The way these men thought she was a complete novelty astounded her. “Have you never seen one of us before?”

“So Barzy was right,” the man continued. “The Leafs have a girl in their bubble. Incredible.”

Aberdeen could tell by the way he said and emphasized girl that this conversation – if you could call it that – was gonna be a doozy. The guy was huge but didn’t look any older than she was, so she knew she would be able to put him in his place. “What are you even doing in this hallway? You’re not supposed to be on this side,” she said sternly. “I suggest you leave and go back to your area of the arena unless you want me to complain to the NHL that your breaching protocol.”

From the very end of the hallway, another figure walked by, stopping at the gap when he apparently found who he was looking for. Aberdeen could at least recognize him – John Tortorella, the head coach of the Columbus Blue Jackets. “Pierre, what the fuck are you doing there? Come on, we gotta go.”

The man, named Pierre, gave Aberdeen a smoldering look. She rolled her eyes. “Must have taken a wrong turn,” he said, loud enough so John would hear.

Dead set on not taking any bullshit, and just really, really wanting to put this guy in his place, Aberdeen didn’t let up. “Perhaps you should remind Pierre of how to speak to the staff of another NHL team,” she said sternly. Both men were too far away to notice how red she was getting, but she could see Pierre whip his head to look at her and his eyes go wide in shock. “And perhaps he should read another copy of the social distancing and bubble protocols tonight in his bedroom so he doesn’t make this unfortunate decision again,” she said, deliberately using ‘decision’ instead of ‘mistake’, because she fucking knew this was no mistake. She wondered what other rumours were swirling in the Royal York about a girl being in the Leafs bubble.

Pierre scurried to the end of the hallway. From her spot, she could hear John chuckle. “You must be the Aberdeen Bloom I’ve only ever heard good things about,” he said. “Keep it up. I might ask you to take my place to keep the boys in line.”

She couldn’t help but smile. Pierre took one last look between his coach and ‘the girl’. “I could take ‘em,” Aberdeen commented, getting a nod from John before he and Pierre disappeared.

She let out a breath.

***

After the team got back to the hotel, picked up their pre-packaged dinner, and settled into their rooms, Aberdeen showered and changed. She sat at the desk where she put the meal and took out her phone. She sent some quick texts to her parents, Siena, and Camden before bringing up William’s name.

U up?

lmao minskatt isnt that what i should be saying to u *wink emoji*

Do you want to eat dinner together?

of course

I’m ready whenever you are babe

She waited for him to start the call. Not even two minutes later, her phone began to ring and “Head Empty” flashed across the screen. She accepted the FaceTime call almost immediately. When it connected and he appeared on her screen, walking in his hotel room with his bathrobe on and his hair wet and tied back, she smiled. “Hi.”

“Hi minskatt,” he said, his voice low. She watched as he put a pair of headphones on. “That’s better.”

Hers were already in. “I’m sorry about the game tonight,” she said, perching her phone on a high point on the desk. “Do you want to talk about it?” she asked.

He shrugged. “Not really. At least, not right now,” he said, putting his phone down too. “Maybe later. Like, after we have dinner.”

“Promise me we will.”

“I promise,” he said, looking into the phone. He knew she would want him to talk about it, and he made her a promise all those months ago. He would never break it. “Right now I just want to have dinner over FaceTime with my girlfriend even though we’re less than fifty feet away from each other.”

Aberdeen chuckled, if only because she agreed wholeheartedly that this whole thing was ridiculous. The tone of William’s voice made her know that he thought it completely ridiculous too. “It’s hard. I know. At least we get free food,” she held up a forkful of the marinated chicken breast. “And good food. It’s not like it’s airplane food.”

William smiled slightly. “First thing I do when we get out of here is bring you to Canoe or Ardo or Miku and splurge on every meal they have on the menu,” he said.

“Sounds good to me. Maybe by then I’ll have a new job to celebrate, anyway.”

“How’s the article coming along?” he asked.

“Fine,” she said. She’s started in the other day and already had about 1500 words worth of material. She figured the best way to go about it was keep a sort of diary every day and then edit it down when she could. “Might talk about how fucking awkward you hockey boys are these days with women.”

“I’m excluded from that, right?” he asked. “I mean, I totally swept you off your feet when we first met.”

She couldn’t help but smile. “You did.”

***

August 3rd, 2020

Aberdeen accompanied the team to one of the workout facilities just so she could catch a glimpse of sone sunshine on the day off. Instead of working out, she sat on the sidelines of where all the equipment was and the boys worked out, furiously typing away on her personal laptop. Every so often when she’d glance up, she’d see Morgan’s thighs almost ripping through his shorts as he did some lunges; she’d see Auston’s biceps almost bursting through his sleeves as he lifted weights above his head; she’d see William’s thick torso exposed as his shirt rode up from him throwing a heavy medicine ball above his head.

A million girls in this city would kill her to be in her position.

And here she was, writing 10,000 words about them instead of ogling them. Well, everyone except her secret boyfriend.

***

August 4th, 2020

Game 2.

Aberdeen was confident that the boys would respond to Columbus’s win in Game 1. She could tell in their energy throughout the day and in the arena they were ready and they were ready to win.

“Hey Nostradamus,” Brendan called out, winking. Aberdeen saw Kyle chuckle from behind his mask. “What’s the score gonna be?”

“Oh shut it,” she shook her head, crossing her arms over her chest and smirking to herself. Except she couldn’t hold her tongue. “3-0, but this time for us.”

“I believe her!” Kyle piped up.

Brendan snorted. “Who’s placing bets?!”

The bell rang and everybody settled down to stand for the anthem. As the game got underway, Aberdeen could feel rushes of electricity move up her spine every time the Leafs touched the puck. They were playing phenomenally. They looked focused, into it, and like a complete team. It was a night and day difference from Game 1. Though the first period didn’t have any goals, Aberdeen knew they’d be coming – for the Leafs only.

In the second period Auston scored and Aberdeen jumped out of her seat to celebrate. And when John scored late in the third period to get a two goal lead, she was even happier.

Then, with less than two minutes left, disaster hit.

It was a play behind the net. Pierre Luc Dubois – the guy from the other day, Aberdeen had learned – basically cross-checked Jake Muzzin, and Jake fell awkwardly, trying to break it, with his head hitting a Blue Jackets player’s leg. He fell to the ice.

He wasn’t getting up. And the referee hadn’t blown the whistle.

Those fuckers.

“BLOW THE FUCKING WHISTLE!!!” Aberdeen screamed at the top of her lungs, startling Brendan and Kyle. Her face was turning red. She was sure she’d been so loud the referee actually heard her, because he finally blew it. Jake was having a hard time getting up, and then he lay back down. One of the trainers immediately made his way onto the ice, rushing towards Jake.

The replays began to play from every angle, and Aberdeen watched on the TV screen in the box how his head and neck contorted once he hit the player’s thigh. She had tears in her eyes as she watched the worst angles. She looked back out onto the ice to see Jake still lying there. The trainer was still with him, though more were making their way onto the ice now. Then, she saw one of the trainers put his hands near Jake’s neck. They called for a stretcher.

She bolted out of her seat.

“Aberdeen!” she could hear Brendan call out after her, but she didn’t listen. She didn’t turn around. She hurried down to ice level, her mind running a mile a minute, and flashed her credentials to anyone and everyone she needed to, not bothering to stop so they could actually see them.

By the time she got to ice level, she could hear the distant sound of sticks tapping, letting her know he was being stretched off. She met all the trainers and the stretcher at the entrance. “Jake?!” she asked frantically.

“Aberdeen?” he asked.

“Are you okay? Did you break your neck?!”

“I didn’t break my neck. I can feel my arms and legs,” he said. Aberdeen let out the breath she didn’t know she was holding in. “Did it look scary?”

“Is that a joke?” she asked. “I ran down here the second they called for the stretcher.”

“We’re going to take him to the hospital. He’s going to have to leave the bubble,” the head trainer informed Aberdeen. “You need to tell Brendan and Kyle. Then update us on the protocol of what it will take to get him back into the hotel.”

Before she could acknowledge what was just said, Jake spoke up again. “Aberdeen?”

“Yeah Jake?”

“You need to call Courtney for me. Tell her I’m okay,” he said. “She’s probably worried sick.”

Aberdeen’s heart sunk into her stomach. Courtney. “Yeah yeah, of course—”

“—You have her number, right—”

“—We really need to get him to the hospital—”

“—Yeah, I have her number—”

“—Call Courtney, please,” were Jake’s last words before he was stretchered off.

Aberdeen watched until they were out of her line of sight. For a few moments, the images of what just happened flashed through her mind, and she momentarily forgot about everything. She felt sick to her stomach. Jake said he felt okay, but she knew hockey players always just said that. Morgan had been playing injured for the better part of the year until he actually got injured. High sticks to the face, lost teeth, blood drawn – these guys just put a bandaid on it and said they were fine. But this was different.

When Courtney’s face crossed her mind, she jolted back to life and grabbed her phone out of her pocket, scrolling until she found Courtney’s number. The phone didn’t even have to ring twice. “Aberdeen?!” she asked frantically. “How’s Jake?”

“Hey Court—he’s okay—”

“He’s okay?!”

“Well, they’re bringing him to the hospital right now,” she said. “But I was able to talk to him because I rushed down to ice level and he told me he was fine and to call you.”

“So you—you were able to talk to him,” Courtney said, her voice much calmer than just moments before. “You saw him?”

“Yes. He told me he could move his arms and legs,” Aberdeen informed her.

“Okay. Okay. Does that mean he has to leave the bubble though? I mean can I go visit him?”

Aberdeen cringed. “I don’t think so,” she said. As she did, she could hear Luna being fussy in the background and Courtney trying to calm her. “The NHL has an agreement with Toronto General about potential injuries. If everything is okay and he comes back into the bubble, all he has to do is pass three negative tests,” she explained, listening to Luna get even fussier.

“Okay. Alright. But they’ll call me, right?”

“Absolutely. I’m sure Jake will even be able to call you from the hospital. Our trainers all have their phones on them.”

“Thanks Aberdeen,” Courtney said, and Aberdeen could hear the relief in her voice. She knew all Courtney wanted was to hear from her husband. Luna let out a loud cry. “I’ll talk to you later.”

“Bye Court,” Aberdeen ended the call.

Families. So many of them had families. So many of them had families that were suffering and making do with a prolonged absence and Aberdeen couldn’t take it. The players were sacrificing so much to be in the bubble. And their families were sacrificing so much letting them go into the bubble. She knew most of them had money – to cope, to do whatever, really – but that didn’t compensate for presence. That didn’t compensate for having daddy around to play and snuggle with.

She began to cry as she found herself walking towards the locker room, not even knowing whether or not the game had ended. She didn’t really care at this point. All she could think about was Courtney and Luna at home, worrying about Jake as he was being taken to the hospital. To Aberdeen, nothing else mattered right now.

She heard some commotion from the locker room and she knew the boys were back in. She didn’t know how long they’d been back for, and didn’t bother to peek in to see. She didn’t want to when her eyes were still red and welling up with tears. Instead, she hid herself around a corner, crouching down with her knees against her chest, wiping at her eyes every so often and trying to control her emotions before having to go in, or getting called by Brendan, or by Kyle, or—

“There you are.”

Well, so much for that.

She looked up from her crouched position and saw Jason looking down at her. He wasn’t completely undressed – he had all his UnderArmour on – but he was still sweaty from the game and his hair was matted against his head. She wiped her eyes one last time before getting up. “Hi.”

“Did you see Jake?”

She nodded. “He’s okay. He can feel and move his arms and legs or whatever.”

“Why are you crying?”

She knew he wasn’t asking to be insolent, but did she really have to have to spell it out for him? “Don’t tell me you’re immune to this shit,” she said. “I just had to call Courtney and explain to her that her husband didn’t break his neck and end his God damn career. Luna was crying in the background. It’s a lot, okay?”

Jason nodded his head. “I know it is. I’m not trying to…fuck, I know that came out wrong. He’s gonna be okay, Aberdeen.”

“Thanks.”

“Come on, Aberdeen,” he said soothingly. “It’s gonna be okay.”

She shook her head, wiping away the last of her tears. “I know. I’m just being a big baby.”

“No you’re not,” Jason said. “You’re not being a big baby. You’re being a human being. Someone you cared about got hurt. Do you want to talk about it when you get back to the hotel?” he asked.

She considered it for only half a second before she shook her head. “No. I know you call your girls every night. I can’t take time away from them.”

“Aberdeen—”

“I’ll be okay,” she asserted. “I promise. I’ll be okay.”

“Aberdeen!” Kyle’s voice suddenly called out. He rushed towards her with his phone in his hand. “They took him to the hospital, right?”

“Yeah,” she nodded her head, trying to steady her voice and make it seem as professional as possible. “He’s technically left the bubble, so we have to update the trainers on protocol to get him back into the hotel and how—”

“I’ll handle that with Brendan and Josh,” he interrupted. “But he was okay?”

“He could feel his arms and legs. That’s what he told me. Then he asked me to call Courtney and I did that.”

Kyle nodded his head, looking – really looking – at Aberdeen for the first time in their conversation. “Were you crying?”

“I’m going to be fine,” was all she said.

***

“I’m going to come to your room,” William said through the phone in a strained voice.

“Don’t you dare,” Aberdeen chastised him, a new batch of tears having fallen down her face as she lay in bed. “Don’t you even think about leaving your room, William.”

“Aberdeen, you need me and I need to be with you right now—”

“And you need to stay in your room so you don’t get kicked out of the bubble,” she said sternly. “I’m being serious, Will. Don’t come over.”

She watched as he bit his lip and shook his head. She could see all over his face how conflicted he was. It was one of the things she loved most about him – to the world, he seemed cool and unemotional and that he didn’t really care about anything or take anything too seriously, but to her, he was the entire range of emotions in one conversation. He had a heart full of gold and she knew it would always stay that way. “This is killing me, minskatt,” he whispered, his voice defeated. “I want to be there for you when you need me. Always. I mean…you need me, right?”

Her heart dropped into the pit of her stomach. She didn’t know where this was coming from, but like some things with William, she felt like it was something that had been on his mind for a while and was only letting out now. He was still learning to talk to her about his feelings. He was keeping his promise from February, so she could appreciate that. “Of course I need you,” she said softly. “I’ll always need you like you need me. We’re in this together. You know that. But you need to be on this team right now. You need to help them fight. This isn’t about me. It’s about the team.”

“It’s always about you,” William said. “You still don’t get it, do you? It’s always about you.”

“Don’t make it about me right now, Willy. It’s not about me. It’s about Jake, and the team,” she paused for dramatic effect. “Make it about me later,” she added, trying to be humourous.

It garnered a small smile from him, and she felt proud of herself. “I love you, minskatt.”

“I love you too Willy. Promise me you’ll get some sleep?”

He nodded slightly. “I promise.”

***

Aberdeen’s iPhone was still in her hands as she woke again from its vibrations. She jumped at the sensation of being awoken in the middle of the night. If it was Willy calling her at three in the morning, she was gonna kill him.

“Hello?” her voice was groggy.

The voice on the other end was not William’s. “I lived, bitch.”

***

August 6th, 2020

It wouldn’t be a Toronto Maple Leafs series without some drama, apparently. And the drama tonight was how the team blew a 3-0 lead, allowing the Columbus Blue Jackets to win 4-3 in overtime, with Pierre-Luc Dubois scoring a hattrick. That meant the Columbus Blue Jackets were now up 2-1 in the series.

It meant the Leafs could go home tomorrow.

Aberdeen tried not to think about it.

She didn’t bring it up with anybody as they went back to the hotel, and she knew, judging by the looks on their faces, that they didn’t want to hear about it either. Nobody would be turning on their TVs tonight, and she doubted they would check the news on their phones, either. Maybe they’d play video games to take their minds off of it. Or maybe they’d go right to bed and rest, since they had to do all of this again in less than 24 hours. Fuck.

Aberdeen took a shower. She washed her face. She did her skincare. She put on a sheetmask.

Her phone rang.

She knew it was William, so she tucked herself into bed and accepted the FaceTime call. When he realized that she had a sheetmask on, a smile broke out on his face from ear to ear. “Nice sheetmask,” he said, biting his bottom lip.

She smiled cheekily and shrugged her shoulders. “You’re used to it by now. Shouldn’t come as much of a surprise,” she said.

“I am used to it by now and—oh shit, hold on, I forgot something…” he said, trailing off as he set his phone down so Aberdeen could only see the ceiling in his room. Knowing William, he probably forgot to turn the light off in the bathroom or something. But the longer he took, the more Aberdeen became skeptical of his whereabouts. She barely heard anything on the other end. “There we are…” she heard his voice. And then she saw what he had on his face: a sheetmask. He was still smiling from ear to ear. “Now where were we?” he asked.

“William!” Aberdeen squealed, letting out giggles she couldn’t hold in at the sight of him. He looked ridiculous. It was clearly the first time he’d ever put one on himself. “What in God’s name are you doing?”

“You love these things!” he tried to justify himself. “I brought one because I knew I’d catch you at least once in here with one of these things on. And if we can’t do it together…well, physically, then we can do them together in separate rooms. Like everything else we need to do.”

Her cheeks flushed red – not that he could see. He bought sheetmasks and put them on with her. He gave her time to write. He encouraged her writing. He listened to her. He cared for her. He was even better than anything she could have imagined in a dream boyfriend. How did she get so lucky? How did she let guys treat her like shit before him? She felt tears well in her eyes. He was going all out to make the best of the bubble, and she couldn’t be more thankful. “I love you so much, Willy.”

“I love you too, minskatt.”

“No…I love you Willy. Like love you love you. Love you love you love you. I don’t even have the words…and I’m a writer! You make me speechless, Willy. There aren’t enough words in the English or Swedish languages that I can string together that will, like, tell you or show you how much I love you.”

“I get it, minskatt. Don’t worry. I feel the same way.”

“I don’t know how I got so lucky with you.”

“I annoyed you enough until I wore you down,” he quipped.

She giggled. “You seduced me is what I’d call it.”

“I don’t know about that. If I remember correctly it was you rubbing yourself against my thigh that morning.”

She made a face at him. He made the exact same face back but crinkled his sheetmask so he had to flatten it with his free hand. She watched him with complete adulation. “Willy?”

“Minskatt?”

“Can we listen to our song together?”

William smiled. He fiddled around with his phone and his ‘Minskatt’ playlist until the familiar chords started playing over the phone, filling the air with the nicest, best, most beautiful sound Aberdeen had ever heard – save for Willy’s laugh, maybe – because she knew this song was about her, about them, and it was still their little secret.

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cinnamon-roll-seth · 4 years

Text

Not A Player || JJ Maybank

OBX Masterlist

Request: can i get a jj maybank x bookworm!reader who works a bookstore and she's like super smart and thinks jj is just a fuckboy but jj really likes her has since forever and basically jj just trying to prove to the reader he's not what she thinks with maybe some reader being friends with pope fluff and a happy ending

You remembered the day you met JJ Maybank as if it was just yesterday. You were working at your family’s bookstore when two energetic boys stumbled into the small shop. One of them being your childhood best friend, Pope, and one you’d never seen in your life.

You parents were fond of Pope and would allow him to come and borrow books as he pleased as long as he always promised to bring them back, which he always had. That particular day he’d come in to exchange the current book for another. His friend didn’t look too thrilled to be following him down the aisle toward the counter where you stood and you could tell he wasn’t the reading type.

“Hey Y/N. I just came to get a new book,” Pope had greeted you before noticing your questioning look towards the blonde boy in front of him, “This is JJ by the way.”

“Hi!” You smiled towards the kid who’d seemed to just realize you were there. He looked you up and down before leaning on the counter and flashing you his dazzling smirk that made all of the ladies go crazy.

“Hey beautiful. You want to be the Juliet to my Romeo?”

You rolled your eyes, “Do you try that one on all the ladies? Romeo and Juliet both died so no thanks.”

“Do you really have to flirt with every girl you see JJ? I thought you were just talking to that chick from Figure Eight?” Pope asked his friend annoyedly.

JJ shrugged, “She dumped me for some kook kid.”

“Sounds like she made the right call. You know, if you want to be a player so bad you should get into video games, that’s what they were made for.” You say sarcastically.

“I am not a player. And I’ll prove it too.” He bites back. You rolled your eyes again and handed Pope’s new book to him, watching as the two boys walked out of the store.

From that day on JJ came into the bookstore every single day. He was determined to show you he wasn’t just a player. He’d go on and on about all the romantic things he’s done for girls. Sometimes he’d bring in his current lady friend and walk her hand-in-hand down the aisles being all sweet and affectionate. You still weren’t convinced.

It also didn’t help that the two of you had fallen into a routine of sarcastic remarks toward each other.

“Wow Y/N you look like a sexy librarian. You could star in a porno and the guys would go crazy.”

“Wow JJ, how flattering.”

Spending so much time around JJ It didn’t take long for him to fall for you. He loved the way that your eyes sparkled when you talked to children that came into the store, or on slow days when you’d sit on the couch reading and you’d get so into the book in your hands that your nose would twitch every so often, or how you’d go on and on for hours about your favorite books. He loved the way that your hair always smelled like strawberries and cream or the way you always had a piece of mint gum in your mouth or how you’d always respond back to him with snarky remarks.

You also had started to have feelings for the flirtatious blonde boy. Watching him with other girls made you feel just the tiniest bit jealous but you tried to ignore it. Sure JJ was VERY attractive and you couldn’t deny that he was a charmer but you still weren’t quite convinced that he wasn’t a player and you didn’t feel like being used.

JJ hadn’t been into the bookstore for almost two weeks and while part of you was relieved because that made it easier to ignore your feelings the other part of you was a bit upset. Did I do something wrong? Did you decide he doesn’t care if I think he’s a player or not?

You turned the ‘open’ sign over to ‘closed’ and reached over to shut off the light switch beside you. You were just pulling your keys out of your purse to lock the shop door when your phone began ringing. Pope’s contact picture displayed across the screen.

You answered the call and put your phone up to your ear, “Hello?”

“Go to the dock by John B’s house.” He replied before hanging up. You stared at your phone in confusion before shaking your head and dropping it back into your purse. It was windy and thundering and no doubt would soon begin to rain, what on earth would he need you to go to the dock for?

Despite the threatening weather you obey his orders, walking the short distance to John B’s after locking up the store. You’d only hung out with John B a handful of times with Pope and you’ve only been to his house maybe three times but regardless you still knew the way there. You were very confused and the tiniest bit worried about what you would find and swore to punch Pope if you were about to walk into a prank.

You were definitely NOT expecting to see JJ standing at the end of the dock waiting for you. A picnic blanket was spread out at his feet and about a dozen or two lit candles were placed around it. His normal casual attire was replaced with a fancier looking ensemble. He looked like a kook, you almost giggled at the sight of it.

“JJ what the hell are you doing?” You ask walking towards him.

“Y/N, I’ve spent the last six months using other girls to prove something that I should’ve been proving to you personally. You’re beautiful and sweet and smart but also sarcastic as hell and I love that. During the time we’ve known each other you’ve become the only person I care about proving myself to and that’s what I want to do. I want to prove to you that I’m more than a player.” He replies, stepping closer to you while your jaw almost drops at his words.

“You did all of this for me?” You ask. He nods.

“I packed this bag with a bunch of your favorite candy and snacks, stuff I picked up from listening to you talk. And Kiara let me borrow her portable DVD player. I brought an extra blanket too. And one of my sweatshirts in case you get cold. I don’t really know much about romantic movies but I saw you reading The Notebook a few weeks ago and we had a copy laying around the house. It was my moms.” (A/N: I know I’ve used The Notebook in two different fics now but I don’t know shit about romantic movies so that’s really the only one I can think of lmao)

“JJ this is the most romantic thing anybody has ever done for me.” You say softly.

“I like you Y/N. I really really like you.” He tells you honestly.

“I really really like you too JJ.”

“So what do you say Y/N Y/L/N? Will you go on this date with me?” He holds his hand and you laugh, grabbing ahold of it.

“Of course I will but I think we should relocate,” You point towards the dark water, illuminated by the dim light on the dock, where you can see little water droplets falling.

“I swear I have been watching the weather for two weeks and it wasn’t supposed to storm tonight,” He groans, leaning down and blowing out the candles before grabbing the picnic blanket and bag.

About two minutes into your walk it begins to pour so the two of you run hand-in-hand to the closest shelter, the bookstore in which you met. JJ pulls out the dry extra blanket and lays it on the floor in the little reading area while you turn on the electric fireplace, illuminating the area while providing heat to your soaked selves. He gets the movie ready while you pull out the snacks and finally the two of you get comfy on the blanket and watch the movie, talking and laughing throughout the whole thing.

“You want to go outside and kiss in the rain?” He asks, looking over to you suggestively, while the credits roll down the screen.

“A rain kiss? How cliche Mr. Maybank,” You smirk, “Let’s do it.”

I am SO sorry it took this long to post! I meant to post it on Wednesday but I wasn’t feeling good and yesterday I was just super busy! Anyway I really really like how this one turned out! I hope y’all liked it 🥺❤️

OBX Taglist (Open): @copper-boom @tovvaf @drewswannabegirl

#outer banks #outer banks imagine #jj maybank #jj maybank imagine #obx jj #jj x reader #rudy pankow #rudy pankow imagine #multifandom #multifandom imagines

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sanchoyo · 3 years

Text

danny phantom season 2, ep 12-16 thoughts! these episodes, in comparison to the first 10 or so, felt way more laid back and low-stakes, which I appreciate sometimes. I didn't appreciate how lazy jack's halfa design was in masters of time, it made me so annoyed I redesigned it. 👎🏻 u_u

see prev episode thoughts in this tag <3

-'picking a fight with me and my upgraded form!' 'you upgraded to a mullet?' DANNNNY. YOU CANT SAY THAT TO TECHNUS. YOUVE HAD A MULLET TWICE NOW ('fun' split danny, and evil future danny BOTH HAD THEM). I HAVE THE RECEIPTS.

-danny seeing technus hurting valerie and yelling I AM GOING TO BREAK YOU IN HALF. SAMEEEE <3

-axion labs is now a part of vladco. FUCK YOU VLAD. hes not even really IN this episode, but just thought I'd throw out a nice fuck you anyway.

-'capable of blasting a single person into space in (2) minutes!' tucker. that would kill someone. i mean yeah they might get to space, but theres NO WAY THEY WOULDNT CATCH FIRE, OR THEIR ORGANS WOULDNT LIQUIFY BECAUSE OF THE STRAIN. THEY'D PROBABLY PASS OUT BEFORE THEN, BUT. ...no, okay, I get why vlad bought this company. this is RIGHT up his alley.

-danny KNOWS VAL DIDNT DO THIS, THAT SOMEONE STOLE THE SUIT. AND SPENDING ALL NIGHT CHATTING WITH HER. <3 and val is a 9TH DEGREE BLACKBELT?? danny's mom is, too!! omg and she hunts ghosts, his parents would love her. and her fav fruit is kumquat bc its a funny word. im so with danny val is amazing. I love her and I Do Not Want To Hear It From Sam.

-I knew danny wanted to be an astronaut, but the bowling tidbit is like. yes give me more useless info abt these characters, I love tiny details that make them feel more human, and im glad hes got hobbies aside from ghost stuff, we dont really see a lot of that!!! (I mean, we knew 'fun' danny from when he split himself in half liked bowling, so obv it makes sense he LIKES it, but hes very GOOD at it. so proud of him, bowling king) val calling him neil armstrong and them teasing each other. LOVE THAT.

-technus you are my favorite grandpa for setting this up. SAM WHY ARE YOU BEING SO CREEPY BE HAPPY FOR YOUR FRIEND!!! STOP SPYING ON THEM!!! who actually cares if technus did 'set them up' together, theyre having fun and enjoy each others company!!! 'you think the universe wants you two to be together?' 'i dunno, but maybe /I/ do!' EXACTLY DANNY!!! SOO TRUE.

-and valerie being happy sam said she wants to try and be happy for them and make room at the lunch table for them. and hugging sam over it. VAL NEEDS MORE FRIENDS.

-VAL GOING AFTER TECHNUS IN HER SUIT WITH (1) MILK, AND (1) TREE BRANCH AND KEYS!!!. I LOVE YOUUUU BEST GIRL. her new suit kicks ass

-dannys like 'HEY IM AN ASTRONAUT :D' AW. ...HES IN SPACE... the fact he's actually intending to give her the ring. with SAMS NAME ON IT?? IM CRINGING DANNY NO. YOU CANT DO THAT...thank god he didnt. thank god valerie cut it off and said they can just stay friends for now. tbh, they both have a lot on their plates!! they obv both still like each other...it can be a future thing!! when she knows about phantom! youre 14 theres no need to rush. I just want her to have friends and be happy :(

-...danny struggles to do (1) pull up. SAME. but all the ghost fighting in phantom form REALLY doesnt carry over at ALL? that sucks

-sam being as fit as she is, is not just a goth. shes a goth jock.

-honey I Shrank Our Kid, One of his Enemies, and his Bully: the episode

-dash's crush on phantom is So Obvious. fitness buddies :) watching them interact always makes me laugh. also, phantom, with PANTS. 'how many costume changes you gonna go through, what is this, vegas??' DASSH DJKSFHASKDF

-MADDIE GOING AFTER THE MOUSE WITH A BROOM, WHAT THE FUCK. AAAH. JUST BUY SOME KIND OF MOUSE TRAP.

-danny likes lime and vinegar chips. which sound very good.

-'our boy finally has the physical prowess of a 60 year old president!' ...poor danny LMAO

-'what's wrong with beauty pageants' oh tucker you sweet naïve child. what ISNT wrong with them. who approved this for a high school?? (I mean, yes. unfortunately child pageants exist, but...) also danny and tucker once again treating the pretty girls like objects. I need to meet the grown man who wrote this, I just want to talk...

-prince aragon's dragon form reminds me of maleficent (color scheme wise) which is always a bonus. considering the episode is called beauty marked, I feel like the sleeping beauty references are deliberate

-sam with the fake fangs. once again her accessories never miss. hate the 'not like other girls, girls who get sucked into this kind of thing are all shallow and all want to be carbon copies' bs tho.

-sam trying to be the Worst Bride, being rude as shit. DORA IS GOING TO GET KILLED. DID YOU MISS THE PART WHERE SHE SAID THE PRINCE WILL HAVE HER HEAD IF YOU ARENT THE IDEAL BRIDE. YOU /KNOW/ DANNY WILL COME SAVE YOU. JUST ACT CHILL UNTIL THEN. even if you were doing fine to get him to take off the crown, consider maybe not letting his poor sister get punished also?? sure, she could also take off the crown and has dragon powers, but did you know that for sure?? dora didnt even really realize it until you guys talked!! (or at least, she was scared to stand up to him. you had no guarantee she would...) but. good for dora. ANOTHER friendly ghost to add to the List :)

-tucker is so under appreciated in his time. if he was doing a tech-based campaign today he'd have a better shot. people in 2004 had NO IDEA how much tech would be a part of our day-to-day lives...altho. tbh if you're going to be running for student council president, maybe you should..focus on things to actually improve the school? since he's going for a tech angle, he could say like, he would be running fundraisers for the schools computers to be upgraded, etc? we've already SEEN he can be good at money-making entrepreneur type stuff!!

-oh my god wait. this episode is JUST YUGIOH?????! A REBORN PHAROH USING A TEENAGER AS A VESSEL?? YESSSSSS

-tucker using his new minion to feed him grapes and carry him. AND LOCUSTS ONTO THE BULLIES. I love how when he's possessed, he gains winged eyeliner.

-this episode is giving me big 'plankton makes everyone in bikini bottom his slaves and build monuments of him from the spongebob movie' vibes. and the pharaoh has a traitor who works for him? VERY big yugioh vibes. aknadin confirmed

-I like that danny is still completely exhausted after using ghostly wail. (still patiently waiting on him to get duplication)

-LOVE the fenton's 80s outfits. I get hes 14 and embarrassed by everything they do because theyre his parents, but. cmon, this is one objectively cool thing theyve done. love 80s fashion.

-...was vlad just standing on that streetlight waiting for danny to come out? how'd he know they'd be coming out the back? how long has he been up there???

-oh, wait, his ecto-acne has flareups? that SUCKS. danny was...well I dont want to say he was LUCKY HE HALF-DIED, but he was lucky his was pretty instant (I'm assuming that had to do with the power/scale of the portals being different?) I remember in the ep we met him, vlad made a point of saying he was stuck in a hospital for a long time, so. that really actually sucks and I feel bad. not that it excuses anything he's done...but like. it does suck.

-vlad being so sure danny wouldnt help him he made it somehow contagious to his friends to make sure he'd get help? danny is a nice boy, he wouldve helped if it was anyone else. the only reason he wouldn't have is because of the shit vlad did to him, on purpose. vlad 100% dug his own grave by being the biggest asshole, so it is very hard to feel bad for him.

-clockwork is back!!! and making danny learn lessons The Hard Way. Uhhh, okay. I kind of get Danny’s logic, that time traveling this far back would prevent vlad from becoming a halfa also, ergo no arch nemesis or ectoacne to worry about. But the fact that was basically the first solution Danny came up with to solve this problem is actually so funny. It’s so extreme

-APPRICIATION FOR THESE 80S LESBIAN BG CHARACTERS.

-vlad telling maddie in the lab (in the 80s) he has something he's wanted to tell her 'for a long time'...how long have they known each other? I assumed they met in college, since jack always calls vlad his college buddy/roommate, so jack and vlad for sure met in college, but did vlad know maddie longer? thats surprising if so. Tho we don’t know what year of college they’re in so they could mean they met as freshmen and a few years have past…speaking of maddie shes crushing the 80s look.

-vlad blames jack, but. maybe dont stick your face 2 inches from the portal??! THIS FEELS LIKE LAB SAFETY BASICS. IF SOMETHING HAS POTENTIAL TO BE DANGEROUS, DONT GET NEAR IT. WITH YOUR FACE UNPROTECTED IN ANY WAY. (altho jack didnt really give a Big Warning besides screaming BONZAI. so. also that, but cmon.) also, they need gloves, goggles, and to pull all of their hair back tbh. but fuck lab safety, I guess!

-cryyyyinnng at how lazy they were with jack's ghost form design, its just plasmius' design on jack!!! you couldve given him his own design!!

-there. I did that in about 10 minutes and its somehow less lazy than what made it into the show. embarrassing! better yet, I think the episode would've been better if maddie would've gotten the ectoacne. or maybe its just me, wanting to see her design! anyway. I'm sure people have already done redesigns of them both as halfas. I have to go look after I finish this watch through. Also mildly frustrated jacks resentment and bitterness is basically also a copy paste of vlads backstory. They’re different characters, I really don’t think jack would stew in bitterness and jealousy the same way vlad would!! I also don’t think he’d give up after one time of trying to hunt ghosts and getting laughed at. Our canon timeline says different…I dunno, I get it was for laughs, but I’m annoyed because the POTENTIAL this plot has…

-did vlad really wear a stupid cheese hat to his wedding. ok actually that kinda rules. and the cheese door knocker. the dairy-only buffet table. vlad still got rich, just on being the New Dairy King. (Assuming that means he owns a lot of dairy businesses?) ok! this actually is great. hope maddie isn't lactose intolerant!

-'no matter how hard I tried, I could never get rid of my ghost half, the half I knew Maddie could never accept' ohh, ouch, what a horrible thing to say to her HALF GHOST SON. 'YOUR MOM WILL NEVER ACCEPT YOU' BASICALLY.

-maddie strapping danny to the table with a lazer pointed at him in a secret lab she keeps from vlad that she makes a point of saying is sound proof so he can scream all he wants...CHRIST. DANNYS POOR PYSCHE.

-also, not to feel bad for alternate vlad (because, he did lie to maddie saying jack blames her and never wants to see her again...) but. being married to a woman 20+ years and she immediately goes back to jack? if she didnt love vlad and feels like she had to hide shit from him, and says she wasted her best years with him, WHY MARRY HIM. it feels like leading him on!!! cannot believe im feeling bad for vlad, but. this alternate timeline vlad is significantly Less Horrible than Our Vlad. did she not think she'd get funding for her ghost stuff? (which, fair assumption since they're considered 'ghost fanatics/nuts in canon...but...) why did she think jack or vlad would be her ONLY OPTIONS? be like your sister. be single. Actually, this au could’ve been really interesting if after the accident, vlad lied to her and said jack never wanted to see her again, but she stays single. Imagine how much that would bug vlad… like, in her mind, it was never a competition it was jack or no one type situation…

-danny being like 'leave him ALONE' this jack is a HOMEWRECKER, DANNY. let them go to court and settle this at the least. ...or just throw vlad into the portal. (100% human, defenseless vlad) CHRIST, MADDIE THATS BRUTAL. THATS MURDER.

-danny seeing his mom immediately accepting him and his dad being half ghosts in this universe, if I was him this would be a great sign that his universe's maddie would also.

-*maddie voice* "clockwork will help!" *2 seconds later, with clockwork* "I will Not Help." TOUGH LOVE KING. YES LET DANNY SEE THE SODA HIMSELF AND DEVOLP BETTER OBSERVATION SKILLS.

-when clockwork ""reset time to the way it was"" just before danny "meddled"" ...did he really erase a whole alternate timeline? ...damn. because maddie and danny both called it an alternate timeline by name, it splitting when the college incident went different, so it wouldnt have really mattered if he reset it, right. like because danny's timeline is on a different stream? why didnt clockwork just. show danny a replay and not Reset That Timeline. wh...I wonder how many people that Erased From Existence. Anyway! once again stating clockwork is casually terrifying!

#danny phantom #dp thoughts #sanchoyorambles

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sneezefiction · 4 years

Text

Atsumu, Akaashi, and Iwaizumi w/ a Kindergarten Teacher S/O

Atsumu, Akaashi, and Iwaizumi x reader - headcanons

request: “i just read your fic ab the reader being a kindergarten teacher and i LOVED IT. do you think we can get another one but with atsumu, akaashi, and iwa? 🥺 I LOVE YOUU AND YOUR WRITING AHHH”

a/n: ahh my laptop has my asks jacked up rn, so sorry @parkersvibes !! but i had the exact request copied down! this is a part 2 to this post :)) really hope you like it and thank u for being so uber sweet, i love this hc💕💕

warnings: none!

wc: 1040

—-

Atsumu:

okay please don’t be surprised by this - Atsumu doesn’t exactly like kids

he’s currently dealing w/ an ongoing children’s volleyball introductory camp that his team was forced to run and he is horrified

ends up making several of them cry, which totally turned him off to the whole “kids” thing

however, he also had the chance to meet you at that camp

he noticed how gentle you were around them, helping them up when they fell, praising them for their “hard work”

he lacked that softness. the comforting, encouraging kind…

so before he even realizes it, he’s walked up to you and started flirting (it’s second nature for this boy at this point)

“What’s a cutie like you...” He’ll look you up and down, “doin’ round here?” He tilts his head, a smirk forming on his lips

“I dunno? Maybe I’m here to cheer up all the crying kids you keep sending to me?” You reply sassily

you’re just... annoyed? the stupid face he’s making after messing with these poor kids is pissing you off

Atsumu wasn’t expecting any sass from you, but since then he’s been pining after you at every break and scheming for new ways to catch your attention

it turns out, you’re the kindergarten teacher for a majority of the little one’s attending and you signed up to chaperone and support them over the next couple of weeks

like, he has no capacity for their complaints and misunderstandings of a sport since he’s been playing professionally for years now

you’re officially an angel in his eyes

not only are you drop-dead gorgeous, but you can also #1 understand what they’re saying?? And #2 you genuinely care about them, their feelings (trivial or not,) and their experience at the camp

he’ll definitely ask you out after the camp is over

you turn him down twice lmao

but the third time!! he doesn’t use any lines or sensual approaches, he’s just chill about it

he’ll ask if you want to go roller skating… so you’re finally just like

“What the hell, why not.”

i mean he is cute and funny, so what could go wrong?

he ended up acknowledging that he sucks at dealing with kids and that he’d try to be gentler around them…

like if he’s actually willing to work on being “okay” with kids, that really means something, bc wow they bother him sometimes

he just adores you, bby

Akaashi:

i imagine that he’d also be a kindergarten teacher at your school

he was quiet for a long time, preferring to observe you and his new coworkers over time, but over the years y’all have gotten super close

there’s now a daily rhythm between you two:

you both meet up in the morning and put on a pot of coffee in the breakroom

he’ll meet your tired eyes with his own. the dark circles make it apparent that y’all are still waking up

you’ll send each other knowing, goofy smiles bc your sleep schedules are so wrecked right now, especially since it’s almost time for the holidays

the schools required art projects are getting out of hand and all the teachers are kinda pissed about it

but instead of complaining, Akaashi will suggest you both go shopping for materials and plan ideas together

it seems like a perfectly normal suggestion, bc you’re teachers and this would be more “efficient”, right? totally not an excuse to hangout w/ you

you’re in for such a treat

he comes to pick you up that Saturday, a coffee ready for you in his hand (he remembered the exact way you make it in the classroom)

also, he’s got this great scarf and jacket combination going on (like this: here)

sorry but not really, this totally turns into a date and you both completely forget about the supplies you were supposed to buy

like, yeah you’ll make it to the store, but he’ll ask you if you’re hungry (which you are) and suddenly he’s taking you to the ramen shop you mentioned weeks ago while on your lunch break

at some point, he’ll have you laughing about some story about a kid from class who keeps acting up

you’ll end up falling out of your chair from laughing so hard and he’ll start laughing at you

while you’re both still snickering, he crouches down to the ground and asks you to this with him again next Saturday

you’re so down (literally)

y’all are the cutest teacher couple. ever.

Iwaizumi:

i see Iwa as being a young, single dad in this situation ✨✨✨

you first meet at the beginning of the school year for a parent-teacher conference and it actually goes so smoothly

he brings his adorable baby girl (your new student), her hair in pigtails, and she’s grabbing onto daddy Iwaizumi’s leg

you first introduce yourself to the girl and then give Iwa a bright smile

i mean, as a teacher, you do your best to be professional and polite, but you can’t help but ask him about himself and crack a few jokes

he and his daughter deem you precious, immediately.

Iwaizumi is so protective of his shy, little girl, but he finds himself very comfortable with letting you teach and watch over her

he definitely finds you on facebook when he gets home and realizes y’all have mutual friends

so instead of just adding you as a friend, like a normal person, he decides to message your mutuals and devise something to meet you in person

what can I say? the dude hasn’t been in the dating field for awhile, so he’s not sure what he’s doing right now

basically you get set up for a one sided blind date (oop)

you find yourself waiting at an ice cream shop for a guy with short, dark-brown hair, an athletic build, and gorgeous brown eyes

but what they didn’t tell you was that he would be bringing a little someone along with him

at first, you just see his little girl waving to you

you stand up, giving her a big hug when she runs up to you

then you look up

oh… OH

Iwaizumi matches that description to a T.

y’all spend the rest of the day skipping (mostly just Iwa’s daughter though) around town and holding hands

so yeah, you’re dating your kindergarten student’s father now

and he’s really sweet and really hot

—-

tags: @cherryonigiri @parkersvibes @omgaspers

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catxsnow · 4 years

Text

VENGEANCE PART TWO

Summary: Part two of Vengeance. No one disrespected Jason, you were going to make sure of that.

Tim x reader and Sister!reader x Jason

Warning: angst

A/N: As requested!!! Part!! Two!!!

Hope this satisfies all of you but already guessing there’s going to be more requests for a part three LMAO. I’m really bad at trying to end things, whoops.

I’ve never been so nervous to post before what the fuck

GIF not mine

Part one

Word Count: 3.6k

You spent the next few weeks trying to figure out who this guy was. It wasn't just the fact that he knew who you were, it was that he had gone as far as to disrespect your late brother. Jason was everything to you and losing him destroyed you. If it wasn't for Tim, you feared what kind of dark path you would be down.

You weren't the only one on the hunt for the mystery man - Bruce was too. After your encounter with him, he had made it a mission go taunt Bruce. The things he was saying, it was things that no one outside of your circle should know. He most definitely wasn't within your group.

His fighting style was relentless. Not worried about killing, brutal against his enemies, and his weaponry was insane. He left you with broken ribs, stitches, and bruises that didn't want to go away for over a week. It had cut down on your patrol time but meant you could do more surveillance to try and find him within Gotham.

You were going to catch this man, even if it meant putting yourself at risk. Tim never spoke of your words again - about wanting to kill this man for speaking ill of Jason. He never told Bruce, but the more he watched you work, the more worried he got for you.

Tim was the kind of man that could run on very few hours of sleep. He proved that to you very often by staying up late to finish work, or even school work. It would be the very late hours of the night before he joined you in bed sometimes. He was used to working late to get things done.

You on the other hand? You were not near enough like him to copy his lifestyle. It would be Tim having to drag you to bed because it was getting late for him. He could see how exhausted you were - bags under your eyes, a slump in your step; you needed sleep. However, you weren't going to get a good nights rest until he was caught.

"(Y/N)," Tim called out to you. It had to have been past three in the morning and the two of you had class the next day. You only hummed in response, keeping your eyes on the screen. Tim huffed at your lack of acknowledgement and hung his arms around your shoulders behind the chair. His chin rested on the top of your head as he watched what you were looking at. "It's time for bed, come on."

"Just a few more minutes, Timmy," You promised. Tim rolled his eyes, you had said that nearly half an hour ago. You saw the disappointment grow on his face on the reflection of the screen. With a sigh, you shut the computer off and heeded to his words. You needed sleep, as much as you wished you didn't.

"I'm worried about you," Tim told you. The two of you walked hand in hand out of the cave and to your shared room. Bruce didn't like the idea of sharing a room but you were nearing twenty and Tim was in his final year of high school - you both were old enough to make your own decisions.

Juggling class at Gotham University and trying to find this Red Helmeted asshole was a battle you weren't sure you could win.

"I know," You hung your head slightly. "I'm sorry that I'm putting you through this. I just - I can't stand the fact that he's out there, lurking, somewhere. Jason would want me to find him, he would want me to figure out what his intentions are."

"I know," Tim repeated your words. He squeezed your hand and kissed the side of your head. One of the first things that he had noticed about you all those years ago, was that you did everything in Jason's memory. All your choices and actions were based off of what he would have wanted.

"We'll catch him, but you need to take care of yourself first. You're not going to be able to catch someone asleep on your feet. Please, for me, for Bruce, for Jason, get yourself back on track before your hunt against him."

"I will," and this time you meant it. Tim was right, you weren't in good shape right now. This obsessiveness was taking over. Even if you were to find him, you were in no state to be able to take him down. He had already beat you once, you couldn't let that happen again. "I love you, Tim. I really don't know where I would be without you."

"Arkham, probably," Tim joked. You smacked his chest, but couldn't help but laugh. The sad truth was that it was true. If it wasn't for him, you feared for what kind of dark path you would have went down. "I love you, too, (Y/N)."

You had done what Tim had asked. Your sleeping schedule became normal (for you), and you were starting to look healthier again. Out on patrol, the two of you stuck together rather than splitting apart to cover more area. If you had another run in with red-helmet-guy, then the two of you could take him down together.

Tim was jumping from the previous rooftop to catch up to you. He was always envious that you were faster than him. You stood on the edge of the roof where you had last scene that man. The sushi place that you never got to go to was lit up and instead of the warm feeling in your chest that you felt when you thought of it and Tim, you felt anger - hate even.

Furious that this man knew such little details about your life, that he thought he knew Jason and what he stood for. You knew Jason, you were the only person who ever really knew Jason. Neither of your parents cared about you, Bruce was too cut off to know the tiny details about your brother. It was always just you and him, and now, he was gone.

Tim finally made it to stand beside you. The city lights shone below you and the late night traffic was causing the empty space to be filled with noise. Tim turned his gaze to where you were looking. He sighed and subtly squeezed your hand.

Batman had already scolded the two of you never to show affection while on the streets.

You knew that he was right to think like that. One criminal sees the two of you close and the whole city knows. Every single one of your enemies would know both of your weaknesses - each other. However, on cold nights, where the darkness that filled the city also filled your heart, you needed Tim's light to remind you that you weren't the costume. You were human.

"I miss him, Robin," you finally broke the silence. It had been years since Jason's death, yet now more than ever you missed your brother. "Fuck, I miss him so much."

"I know," Tim sighed. There was very little that he could do to comfort you at the moment. Hell, you shouldn't have even brought up your feelings but you couldn't hold it in. Tim was the only person you could express your feelings no matter the time or place. "I'm sorry."

"No, it was my fault. I should have gone with him, I should have been there with him," You shook your head. "Maybe he'd still be alive if the two of us were there. We could have taken him down together, or maybe we would have died together."

"Jason didn't take you with him because he knew it was risky," Tim looked over at you. He could see your eyes were glassy from beneath your mask. "He always wanted you to be safe, that was what mattered most to him. I might not have ever met him but I know that I'm thankful for him protecting you for so many years."

"And when he needed me most I wasn't there to protect him," You hung your head low. You had failed Jason all those years ago and it haunted you ever since. Nightmare after nightmare you awoke in the night. They were all the same - each one of them the most gruesome things that the Joker could have done to him.

"That wasn't your fault," Tim tried to argue. He was frustrated with you every time that you thought that his death was your fault. There were so many nights that Tim woke up beside you in the night while you were drenched in sweating and panting at your nightmare. He was the one that would calm you down until you were able to fall back asleep.

"There's an hour left until Bruce wants us back, let's split up. It's been a quiet night I'm not too worried," You changed the subject. You didn't need Tim to try and convince you that Jason dying wasn't your fault. There was always a hint of pity in his voice and you didn't want to hear it, not tonight. "I'll call in if I see anything."

You didn't give him time to argue before jumping off the roof that the two of you were standing on and swinging away with your grappling gun. The cold breeze whipped against your face though you could barely feel it anymore. Cold nights like these always used to make you want to stay in and have Alfred's hot cocoa. Now, you embraced the nights like these.

As kids, you and Jason would always bundle up in every blanket you could find and nearly beg Alfred to make the two of you hot cocoa. He always would, and the two of you would nearly shake at excitement while you waited. A movie would play on the big screen and you would spend the rest of the night watching as many as you could before falling asleep.

Tim had surprised you with the same kind of date one night and as weary as you were to partake, you realized that making new memories with Tim was the reason that you were able to keep doing what you were doing. You were making yourself happy with him and that was what mattered the most.

Standing on the roof of one of the clubs within the city, you could feel the base of the music below your feet and see the crowd of people coming in and out of the building. Part of you wanted to join the drunk, messy people within. Instead, you tensed at a joined presence behind you.

"You're a hard person to get alone."

On instinct, you threw several batarangs towards him. He had managed to dodge them all without even needing to try. It only frustrated you more. You lunged towards him, hastily trying to hit him in any way that you could. After all these weeks of searching for him, you were finally going to get your chance to bring him down.

The red helmet man didn’t seem prepared for your oncoming wave of attacks. The first punch had knocked him off balance just enough that kicking his chest completely brought him to the ground. This seemed to be too easy. He was too skilled to only be brought down by a few hits.

Either way, you didn't care. You stood above this man, the words that you spoke to Tim rang through your head. I want him dead. The rage that you felt going against the Joker was far worse than you were feeling right now. As much as you wanted him dead, you desperately wanted to know who he was first.

You knelt on his chest, digging your knee painfully into him. A batarang was placed right at the small slit of bare skin below his helmet. "I'm giving you one last chance to do this the easy way: who are you?"

"Haven't figured it out yet? Maybe you haven't improved that much, Batgirl. I never introduced myself last time, call me the Red Hood." That didn't get you any closer to what you wanted to find out. This guy had to have been new to town, you had never heard that name before. "Jason -"

"You say one more thing about him and I'll kill you before you get the chance to finish your sentence," your fist tightened at your sides and the sharp end of the batarang dug into his skin even more. Thoughts about what you wished to do to this man filled your mind. You wanted him to suffer, to know the pain that Jason felt so he knew never to speak ill of him again.

"Bats wouldn't be happy with you."

"Fuck Batman," you harshly reacted. "Jason was the only person that mattered to me and if I have to go against Batman's code then so be it."

You couldn't see Red Hood's reaction to your words besides the fact that his body was extremely still. He suddenly used brute strength to not only kick him off you, but off the elevated fan that you two were perched on. You caught yourself before hitting the ground.

Red Hood stood up and stared down at you. You stood ready for whatever move he wanted to pull next. His knees bent just enough to push off, and with such grace, flipped over you so that he was standing right behind you. Red Hood towered over you and you couldn't help but feel some intimidation.

"That's exactly what I wanted to hear," standing closer to him, you could hear his voice through the modulator. It didn't make much of a difference to his real voice. What caught you off guard, was the way that he flipped up and over you. You recognized that push off, the landing, you had seen it done a million times.

The voice. The flip. The sushi. Hell, everything that this man had said and done in the two short encounters that you had with him. You recognized it all, you should have known better, from the start. You should have known why he knew so much about you and why he was so adamant that he knew Jason better than you.

No one knew Jason better than you, except for Jason himself.

"Robin to Batgirl, what's your status?" Red Hood must have heard the static in your earpiece, his head shifted just slightly to the right. You stared up at him, and you swore that he could hear the gears grinding in your head with all your thinking. Everything was starting to make sense to you. "Batgirl?"

Slowly, you reached up to turn your earpiece off. Tears welled up in your eyes once more that night, except this time for a completely different reason. Realization of who was under the mass came to you in a wave of emotion. Terror, fear, hope. You couldn't distinguish your feelings any more.

The tidal wave of all your past horrors washed over you. The terrifying nightmares that you woke up to at night. The grief you felt having to stand over Jason's grave at his funeral. The memories that you shared with him for so many years of your life. The anger that you felt towards the Joker, towards the Red Hood. All of it was overwhelming your senses to the point that you couldn't see straight.

The music from the club below didn't pound as loudly as your heart. The drunken vision that most of the people felt downstairs couldn't have been worse than your own. Even those who were so doped up on drugs must have had more feeling in their fingertips. You felt numb to everything.

"Jason."

Thunder crackled across the sky. The rain that was already spitting against you gushed down more.

Your throat was dry, so dry that you thought that no amount of water would ever be apply to replenish your body. The armor that you wore suddenly felt heavier, as if it was pulling you down to the earth and never allowing you to crawl back up.

The things that Red Hood had said to you before replayed in your mind. Jason would be disappointed. He knew because he was Jason, and he spoke what he believed to be the truth because he knew what he felt. He never told you who he was because he was disappointed that you never avenged him.

He knew that the only person that knew Jason better than you, was Jason himself.

"Jason," You repeated once more. Red Hood stood before you, he said no words, made no movements. Without hesitance, you reached up to pull the cowl off your head. Rain drenched your hair, your skin, it soaked through your clothes. You didn't care about how cold you felt, just the emptiness that was in your chest.

"You've grown."

Your chin trembled and no matter how hard you tried to force it stop, it wouldn't. With shaky hands, you reached up to Red Hood's helmet. Your fingers latched onto the bottom and pulled it up and off his head.

Fear of what you would see filled you. Your eyes were sealed shut, and you couldn't bare to look at the sight ahead of you. To be honest, you weren't sure what you wanted to see when you finally opened your eyes.

Cold green eyes stared down at you. Black mop of hair with the smallest tuft of white sticking out in the front. Faint scars laced his skin but a particular one stood out to you the most. A small J was carved into his cheek. Beneath all this tragedy, beneath the age, you knew this face.

This was your brother.

Without hesitance, you threw the helmet to the ground and rushed into him. Your arms were tightly wrapped around him - never wanting to let go because you could never lose him again. You didn't care if you were dreaming or if this was some kind of cruel joke being played on you - all you cared was that in that moment, you had your brother again.

Jason was rigid against you. He planned to be just as angry with you as he was with Bruce, but then he heard what you were saying to Tim. He heard you talk so highly about him, about how much you missed him, and how you wished that you were dead beside him in that terrible warehouse. He wanted to feel an anger towards you for never killing the Joker. It was easier to be angered than to forgive for something that you truly believed in.

His feelings changed when you stood there with your arms wrapped around him and tears down your face for him returning back to you.

Jason finally returned the hug. His arms squeezed you so tightly that you couldn't breathe properly but that was the least of you worries at the moment. Jason missed you more than anything. You were the one person that he could always rely on, and after seeing you on that rooftop, he knew that he could continue to do so.

"How is this possible? How are you here?"

"A story for another time," Jason assured. He knew that the moment that he revealed himself to you, that there would never be a separation again. It had been years since he got to see you, years that you thought he was dead and never coming back. This all felt surreal. You wanted nothing more than to believe that this was true, that it wasn't some cruel trick.

"I know you're still working with the Bats, and now you've got Tim... but I can't go back. I won't go back. And if you're willing, I'd like if you joined me," Jason offered. After what Batman did to him, he didn't want you with him either. He was sure that the only reason that you hadn't left yet was because you had no one else to turn to. Now, you had him.

"Jason, I-," you cut yourself off. You loved Tim, you loved him more than you loved yourself, but Jason? Jason was blood and you couldn't abandon that. No matter how much Tim had done for you, Jason was always your number one. That was something that Tim had accepted a long time ago, your brother would always be your priority.

"I know," he nodded in understatement at your dilemma. Jason didn't hate Tim, he never hated Tim. In fact, aside from him being a complete idiot for taking up the role of Robin, he was glad that it was Tim who had ended up in his sister's life. She needed him, and Jason truly appreciated that Tim was the one to be there for her when he wasn't.

"I'll join you," You firmly told him. You didn't want things to end badly with Bruce and Tim - you would always love them. But being with Jason again filled the whole in your heart that nothing could ever replace. No amount of vengeance against the Joker would ever bring you fulfillment like you had right now.

You never expected to see Jason again, you couldn't lose this chance. Not after all those night of hoping that you could be with him again. Your dreams had finally become a reality: you had your brother back.

"There's no going back."

"I know."

Tagged: @xapham @wasnt-expecting-that @annabellabrookes @ximaginx @comic-brew @itzagothamcitysiren @lux-xen-and-her-catastrophes @cipheress-to-k-pop @xapham @samaras-weavings

I think I got everyone that asked to be tagged but I’m so, so sorry if I missed you!

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