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ozzgin · 4 months

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Yandere! Yakuza x Reader (V)

In a rather unlucky turn of events, you find yourself kidnapped for being in the wrong place during a gang war. Worry not, your yakuza boyfriend is at your service. Yet another bloody reason not to mess with him.

Content: female reader, organized crime, violence, gore, obsessive behavior

[Part 1] [Part 2] [Part 3] [Part 4] [Part 5]

"Damn it!"

The scarred man throws another tile into the pile, clicking his tongue.

"I gotta say, you're pretty good for a foreigner." A second man with an eyepatch remarks, carefully inspecting his set before retrieving a tile of his own. "Pung."

You take another greedy sip of the cheap sake and slam the little cup back on the table.

"Kind of inevitable to learn mahjong when your only friends in this country are yakuza." You look up towards your captor with a frown. "You guys ever heard of board games or something?"

"Try to explain new rules to this dumbass!" A third man angrily pours himself another glass, pointing towards the first. "Fuck, I could iron clothes on that smooth brain of yours!"

"Fuck off, you're not any better." The scarred man continues his turn with furrowed brows.

"If I were you I'd keep quiet about being pals with the yakuza. They'll question you, too, after the office guy. Don't make it worse." The man wearing an eyepatch mentions in a lowered voice. The table suddenly goes quiet.

"When is he coming out?" You ask hesitantly, bile pooling in your mouth. You already suspect the answer.

"He's not. Bodies are discarded through the back entrance." He pats the ash off and takes another drag off his cigarette.

You swallow.

Being involved with the Triad was not part of your new year resolutions, yet here you are about to be interrogated by the local Chinese syndicate. At least the lackeys have taken pity on you, a poor civilian caught in the middle of their rivalry. Hence the fake sense of normalcy as you chitchat at the mahjong table with a cup of sake to ease your wrecked nerves.

"I'm guessing they won't be as friendly back there." You nod towards the door, where they took your work superior several hours ago.

"No."

That's all you get and you can only smile bitterly. Huh. You wonder if this is how Daitou's victims feel, helplessly waiting for whatever is brought upon them. Having to watch him unwrap his tool belt, stuffed with rusty old tools littered in blotches of dried up blood. Pondering his questions while he eyes the row delectably, hovering his hand over the potential ways to loosen up your tongue.

Would they torture you, too? Hopefully not. It should be rather obvious you're just a mere civilian. Then again, if your work superior mentioned anything about you being Daitou's girlfriend...He's never told you anything downright incriminating, but it'll be hard to convince these fellows that you truly are clueless.

Maybe they'll let you go if you offer your finger as a token of peace. Your forehead wrinkles at the thought. Isn't it more of a Japanese custom anyways? And if they say yes, then what? Do they provide you with the required utensils or are you expected to improvise on the spot?

You remember one of Daitou's seniors describing the process in great detail during the Christmas party. You had asked him about it, purely out of curiosity, and he certainly delivered almost more than your stomach was able to handle (Daitou scolded him later for telling you too much). You take the tatami mat and preferably wrap it in cloth, to soak up the blood. Any sharp blade will do, but traditionally you'd be offered a proper tantō that can easily slice through the bone. Obviously you want to cut as little as possible, so you still have some functionality remaining. Right above the joint. You must put all of your body weight into the thrust, otherwise the cut won't be clean and it turns into a mess.

Hell. You wipe the cold beads of sweat that have formed on your face. You can barely chop an onion. Maybe one of the gangsters has enough experience and goodwill to offer to do it for you. Then you only have to clench your teeth and prepare for the blow. It can't be that bad. Surely the shock will be too great, and your brain won't even register it. Before you know it, they'll dip your hand in ice and rush you to someone fit to perform the aftercare. Yeah. That should to the trick.

"Hey, foreigner. It's your turn."

"Leave her be, can't you see she's pale?"

You glance up and notice the men looking at you expectantly. They've already showed you plenty of kindness from the moment they shoved you in that black van with the rest of the office workers. Perhaps you can rely on them one final time. You suddenly bow, head pressing against the table. They're somewhat startled by your gesture.

"I'm deeply sorry to ask, but might any of you be knowledgeable in blades?"

"H-huh? What for?"

You ceremoniously slam your hand onto the table, rattling the mahjong tiles. You struggle to let the words out, but try to maintain a straight face, picturing Shozo Hirono's cool attitude when he performed the deed himself in Battles without Honor and Humanity.

"Would your Boss be satisfied with a yubitsume? I cannot offer anything else of use."

You feel a harsh hand smack against the back of your neck and you cough, taken out of your focus.

"Dumbass! What the hell are you talking about? Why would our Boss need the finger of a civilian, and a woman on top of that? 笨人!" The man with an eyepatch is red and flustered as he scolds you. The other two are holding back their snickers, amused by the scene.

"Let her! I have a knife on me right now." The scarred man comments with a grin. "Whaddaya say, kid? Or have you changed your mind already?"

"A man never goes back on his word." You bark and straighten your back, crossing your arms imposingly.

The eyepatch man smacks you again and the other two begin clapping, terribly entertained by your tomfoolery.

The spectacle doesn't last long. Within seconds, you jump out of your seat at the sound of rapid gunshots and scattered, erratic shouts.

Daitou bows before his Seniors and mumbles a polite, monotonous greeting. It's highly unusual to have the Lieutenants gathered at the office like this. Kazuya is fidgeting in his seat, Boss is away on a trip. What else could require everyone's immediate attendance? He makes his way to the blonde man and drops himself on the sofa, awaiting the details.

"Wakasugi has been taken."

A chaotic murmur ensues.

"He's been making offers for a building in a neutral area. That's where the Chinese sell their drugs and they claim it to be their turf. I hear some of our newbies got caught dealing that shit as well. Boss has been at their throats for some time now and this is their way to say fuck you."

Ah. More gang rivalry drama. Daitou presses his lips together, trying his best to hold back a yawn threatening to escape his mouth. Hopefully they'll leave him out of it, he has a date planned with you and he'd rather not show up reeking of rotten flesh.

If you get kidnapped, think of yourself as already dead. The Yakuza doesn't negotiate. They just get their revenge tenfold. Unless it's someone important, like the Boss himself, the honorable way is to die without betraying your Family.

"Just put a few bullets in them. Should teach them a lesson." He says while stretching.

"Yeah, we're sending Oota and his men to deal with it. Just be on the lookout." One of the Seniors responds.

"Still, the fucking guts on them. To show up at the office, right before our eyes-" Another man cries out, frustration in his voice.

"What did you say?"

Kazuya flinches. He knows where this is going and he glares at the outraged yakuza, trying to silence him. Sadly he doesn't take the hint.

"Right? They just waltzed in, shot some of our guys and took Wakasugi and whoever was nearby. Heh, what are they gonna do with a bunch of office assistants? Extra weight to carry to the dump."

"Enough!" Kazuya's exasperated yell causes everyone to quiet down.

There are several confused looks being exchanged before everyone's eyes eventually rest on Daitou, now staring ahead motionless. Didn't his girlfriend work at that office? The Senior giving out the initial order has realized the mistake. He quickly clears his throat and is about to speak, but Daitou abruptly stands up and heads for the door.

"Oi! I said we're leaving it to Oota. This isn't your job."

He tries to repeat his words with confidence, but his voice falters towards the end when faced with Daitou's massive frame. Particularly the barrel that's now pressing into his forehead.

"Mind your fucking business or I'll kill you right here." Daitou threatens.

"D-don't think Boss will help you out of this one, brat. If you go, you're disobeying your Senior."

The tall yakuza smirks mockingly.

"See if you can run for Boss with your skull split open, bitch."

Kazuya slaps the gun aside and steps between the men.

"Just let him go. I'll take responsibility." He pleads, his friend already slamming the door behind him.

Once the aggressor has left, everyone exhales discreetly in relief.

"He'll get us in trouble with the cops." The Senior retorts to the blonde in a berating tone.

"What else do you suggest? You know there's no way around it if he's pissed."

No one replies to what seems to be an universally agreed upon truth.

He blows out the smoke and crushes the cigarette under his foot. Fuck. He needs to calm down. They most likely haven't killed you, but if they laid a single hand on you...He's blacking out again. Whatever blinding rage possessed him back in his youth, when his Boss got wounded, would now pale in comparison. His ears are ringing and his vision is foggy. He can't even recall how he made it to their building. Or how he got past the guards. Although that one's easy to figure out, judging from their twisted throats.

He checks his rounds one final time and kicks the heavy metal door open. Only about a dozen of them, but no sign of you yet. Should take a minute. It is time for him to pay his respects.

"What the fuck was that?" the scarred man swiftly takes out his weapon and knocks the stool over with his foot.

If it is who you think it is...Your face twists in fear.

"Listen, you've been nice to me so I don't want to see you dead. Could you...could you leave, please? It might be someone I know and I promise you there's no point in fighting back."

The noticeable quiver in your speech might lead one to believe you're awaiting your executioner, not your savior and boyfriend. But you've seen Daitou angry and the ordeal flooded the very marrow of your bones with terror. Naturally he could never be upset at his darling for any reason, ever. Whoever poses a threat to you, however, can't say the same thing. You remember trying to pull him back from a random drunk that had groped you during an outing, and he tightly gripped your jaw with a bloodied hand and nearly ordered you in a ragged growl: "Hey. I said I'll be done in a moment. Be a good girl and close your eyes."

Thus, from experience, you know he'd never listen to your pleas. Maybe if he was lucid enough, but not in this manic state. The man wearing an eyepatch scans your expression attentively. Your worry is genuine and the other room is gradually becoming quieter, but not in a way that'd inspire him confidence. He certainly doesn't feel like dying today and there's nothing honorable about throwing yourself into a senseless battle. He nods at the other two men and he asks you one last time if you'll be fine by yourself, to which you shake your head vehemently. Please go away already.

The final obstacle crumbles under Daitou's weight and you fiddle with your glass, alone, at the mahjong table. He seems to be taken aback and once he confirms you're not in any pain or discomfort, his demeanor switches within an instant.

"Where's everyone?"

"They ran away."

"Just like that? And left you here?" He stares at you, baffled.

"Maybe there's some still in the back. These ones left because I asked them to."

He approaches you, still bewildered and confused. He looks like a lost dog.

"What? They were nice to me and I didn't want you to kill them. You never listen when I tell you to stop." You huff, pouting and folding your arms.

"Sorry. I got a little bit anxious." He kneels before you and extends a hand apologetically. "Friends again?"

"Wash your hands at least, I don't want to know what organ remains you have stuck through your fingers."

He chuckles and wipes the palm against his shirt. You follow his movements and notice the bullet wounds near the ribcage. This madman. You speedily bend to his level and remove his jacket to inspect the injuries.

"Christ. Take off your shirt and let's at least stop the bleeding before we leave. How the hell can you still stand with all these holes in you?"

Daitou unbuttons his shirt obediently and you try to wrap it around his abdomen. You notice the thick, wide scar crossing his stomach, presently smeared with blood. Either his or someone else's.

"Now that I think about it, how did you get this scar? From a gang fight as well?"

"Oh no, I got this in prison. I was supposed to serve many more years, but one of the Seniors rang and said Boss needs me for something. They were in talks with the police chief to maybe bribe my way out.

But I felt terrible knowing that Boss would be wasting money on my mistakes. At the time the place was overcrowded, so I figured they'd let me out for medical emergencies. So I cut my stomach open and they counted it as a suicide attempt." He responds with a proud grin.

You grimace a little at the mental image.

The cloth has been tightly, albeit clumsily secured around his gashes and you both get up. It occurs to you that throughout this mess you haven't feared for your life once. It feels like Daitou is always there to get you out of trouble. Despite his unorthodox methods.

You gaze up at him and notice the prosthetic eye has rolled inwards, so you adjust it slightly with your finger. He follows your romantic gesture with a quick peck on the lips.

"You'll get yourself killed one day." You whine, tired.

"And leave you alone? Never. You're stuck with me for life."

He flashes you a wide smile and pats your head.

"Can we still go on that date?" The yakuza suddenly remembers, guiding you as you zigzag your way among fresh corpses.

So he hasn't forgotten. A faint blush dusts your cheeks.

"Sure, but I'd like to have a bath first."

"Then let's have one together." He suggests cheerfully, completely unbothered by whatever just happened.

Tags: @yandere-city2 @lokiofasgard12 @zeniiis @lucienbarkbark @channelinglament @your-next-daydream @bath1lda @murder-hobo @zanzie

(hopefully I didn't forget anyone)

#female reader #yandere #yandere x reader #yandere x darling #yandere x you #male yandere x reader #yandere yakuza #yakuza x reader #yandere fic #yandere imagines #yandere imagine #yandere scenarios #yandere oc #yandere oc x reader #yandere mafia #mafia x reader #original work #original character #yandere boyfriend

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cosmal · 1 year

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waitttt aerial writing poly!marauders?? omg. how about them looking after sick or injured reader I feel like that could be so cute!!!! they’re all worrywart bfs tbh

emergency contact

summary james gets called when you faint at work. and then sirius. then remus. you feel awful

content poly!marauders x fem!reader

note this was combined with another request. I accidentally deleted it I'm super sorry but it was a request for poly x fem!reader where the boys come to your work after fainting!

You feel really embarrassed sitting at the end of the bar, ice pack held to your head, mouth wrapped around the straw in your drink.

Your embarrassment turns to worry when you see James walking across the room. He’s rushing, hair a mess, mud tracked up his calves. He’s still in his rugby kit.

You turn your head to look at your colleague. “Ash, you told me you wouldn’t call anyone!” You’re not really upset, you feel like a bit of a nuisance.

“It’s procedure, Y/N. I’m sorry.” She doesn’t sound very sorry. You don’t blame her.

“Sweetheart,” he says when he reaches you. He’s frantic, soft about it, but still upset. “Are you okay? They told me you fainted.”

“I’m really sorry,” you say instead of a hello. You feel entirely stupid.

“What?” He grasps your shoulder and squeezes hard. “What are you sorry for, honey?”

“I feel bad,” you say quietly, voice a little thick. You screw your face up and your head tinges. A dull pain that radiates down into the back of your skull.

“Please, don’t.” He says. Firm with a hint of worry he’s trying to mask. If James cries you think you might too, and you really wouldn’t put it past him.

You drop the pack to the bar and take his hand, fingers damp with condensation that transfers to his palm. “I’m fine. Promise.”

“You bumped your head?” He uses his free hand to hold your face, careful where he has his fingers. His eyes track over your face to search for any harm. You’re blood-free, luckily, though there’s a red mark blooming up and into your hairline. Most likely to bruise.

“Yeah.” Your eyes flutter closed because you can’t help it.

“You’re not feeling drowsy?” comes James’s voice.

“No, feels nice,” you chuckle, a tiny huff of air. “Your hands are warm.”

You don’t expect it, but suddenly, you’re hearing Sirius’s worried voice come from the other side of the room. You crane your head around James' broad shoulders to see him, haloed by the light coming through the front door.

“Why is he here?” you mumble, feeling worse by the second. It comes out worse than it sounded in your head.

Apparently, he hears you. “He is here because James had to call him.” He hugs you almost immediately. Big, warm hands come around to cage you in against his chest. You hide the good side of your face into his neck and huff. “Do you not want me here?”

You pull back quickly and really regret it. Blinking back the hot, pinching pain in your face. “What? No, I’m just…ugh.”

Sirius pouts, then hums a sympathetic noise from the back of his throat. He keeps his hands on your shoulders. “It’s okay, honey. Don’t worry about it, yeah?”

You close your eyes and incline your head to lean it down on his ringed-up hand. Your cheek all smooshed up against him.

“Is she okay?” You hear him ask James. He hums a yes. “She’s not concussed?”

“She doesn’t think so,” he says.

“She is right here,” you mumble. You pull back from his chest and swing your legs over the chair.

"I'm sorry, lovely." He looks like he wants to hug you again. "You're okay? Had some water?"

You nod. "Just really wanna go home."

"All right, let's go, yeah?" James takes your elbow to help you off the stool, and Sirius steadies you by the shoulder. It's kind of adorable how gentle they're being with you. Soft hands and pinched brows. They both make a funny sound when you wobble a little.

James grabs your bag and throws it over his shoulder and you all leave.

"I'm sorry, Sirius," you say before you get to the door. "Were you at work? You won't get in trouble for leaving, will you?"

"No, it's okay. Don't worry about that." He smiles.

You will. You'll no doubt feel bad for the rest of the week.

You bump into Remus on your way out. He holds the door open for you. He looks like he's run up the block. "Rem, baby, they didn't call you too?" You're not sure why you hadn't expected it. If he wasn't here, he'd definitely feel horrible.

"Dove, you're okay?" he pants. He holds your face in his hands and you try not to cry. You're not sure if having them all here makes you feel better or worse. "God, I was so worried."

The first tear leaves a hot track down your cheek. You push yourself into Remus's chest instead of answering and wrap your hands around his waist. He crosses his arms over your back.

He moves you out of the way of the entrance and you scuffle along with him. Your tears are slow, dampening his shirt, catching the brunt of your upset. You don't make any horrible sounds, just quiet, sticky tears.

He encourages your face back with a firm, pinching hand. You blink back the end of your cries. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to scare everyone."

"Don't worry," he says, corners of his mouth trembling into a sad smile. "It's all good. As long as you're okay."

"I just," you take a stuttering breath, "just got really tired. I probably shouldn't have worked today."

Sirius kisses the end of your eyebrow, right across your temple. "You've been working a bit too much, I think."

"I didn't ruin anyone's day?" You sniffle way too sadly for anyone's opinion. Remus squeezes you closer with almost bruising fingertips.

"No, lovely," James says, sticky smile gracing his lips. "Don't worry about it, okay? We just wanted to be here for you. That's our job."

"Right," you say, voice catching at the end.

Sirius shucks your jacket on for you as the wind outside picks up. "Speaking of being here for you," he says. "Is James your emergency contact?"

"No, you all are," you tell him, a hint of laughter in your words.

"Right."

Then, you start actually laughing. "Was he the only one to pick up?"

"I think so," he joins in.

"What if it was serious?" Suddenly, you're teasing.

"It was serious!" Remus balks.

"You didn't answer the phone!"

Everyone goes quiet. You burst out into the biggest fit of giggles, smiling so widely it hurts. "I'm kidding!" you say, struggling to speak. "God, stop. Look at your faces! Stop - stop it, my head hurts."

James cages you in against his chest, stealing you from Remus. "My poor baby," he coos. "Oh, they're awful, awful boyfriends."

"Fuck off," Sirius grumbles. "Just cause you're always on your phone."

"Don't listen to them, honey." He's awful. "You comin' in my car?"

"If you stop being mean, then yeah."

"Yeah, you fuckin' tell him, Y/N." Comes Remus's grumpy voice.

#james potter #james potter x reader #remus lupin #remus lupin x reader #sirius black #sirius black x reader #james potter fanfiction #remus lupin fanfiction #sirius black fanfiction #poly!marauders #poly!marauders x reader #poly marauders #poly marauders fanfic

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buckttommy · 2 months

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I need buck to be in danger and tommy running into the danger to get buck out safely. I need tommy to hold bucks face in his hands and tell him that he needs to look at him and tell him what hurts. I need tommy to be a worried boyfriend

whoops

"I'm okay."

Evan doesn't actually know if he's okay. His head throbs, for one, his vision blurring around the edges. He's not entirely convinced he doesn't have a concussion, and his ribs spit fire whenever he so much as tries to inhale. His arm—the one that's not currently attached to the hand that's gripping Tommy's wrist like he's scared he'll float away—is broken, or at least he thinks it is, and he's got a bunch of other scrapes and bruises that'll give him hell in the morning.

So maybe he's not okay (and judging by the way that Hen glares at him in his peripheral vision, maybe is starting to look like definitely), but he's not dying.

That's all that matters.

Tommy swallows tightly. His right hand clenches and unclenches at his side like he's trying to keep himself from reaching out to touch, and it seems like he's losing the battle. Evan appreciates the respect, appreciates the acknowledgement that he's not out even in a situation as dire and terrifying as this one, but it's a particular sort of agony to watch Tommy fight his instinct. Evan just doesn't know which one of them it's hurting more.

Tommy clears his throat. "When Chimney called and said that—that you were hurt..."

"I know." Evan has been on the receiving end of a call like that more than once. The corner of his mouth lifts into a small, fragile smile that sends more blood spilling down his face. "I'm sorry I freaked you out. I didn't mean to do that to you."

He doesn't mention that he, too, was also freaked out. Not because he thinks Tommy can't take it or doesn't want to hear it, but because he doesn't know how to say it without having the whole situation feel abruptly, horrifyingly real.

When the building came down, all he saw was rebar and ash and cement, and if he's honest, he's still not sure how he made it out of there. Still not sure whether it was pure survival instinct that had him clawing out of that air pocket or whether some benevolent god reached down and gave him a helping hand. Either way, he's not complaining. He knows what it's like to be the one waiting for information, to think you're about to live the worst day of your life.

He's glad he didn't do that to Tommy.

This time.

Tommy's eyes rove over his face, his body, like he's trying to catalogue for himself all the places in which Evan is broken. He loses the fight against his hand and gently grabs Evan's jaw, tilting his face toward the flashing lights of the ambulance. He clucks his tongue and drags his thumb along the edge of a gash scored across his cheekbone.

"You're going to need stitches on that."

"I know, I know. Just—" Evan sways on his feet. He's tired, suddenly, the adrenaline passing and fear taking roots in it's place. "I thought I was going to die today."

Tommy makes a wounded noise in the back of his throat. "Evan."

"No. I know. It's just that—if I hadn't somehow ended up in that little pocket of space, I-I would have been dead. And I know that's the job. You know? It's—it's what we both signed up for." He rocks forward on his feet, partially fueled by fatigue, partially fueled by this desperate fucking need to be back in the comfort of his boyfriend's orbit. "But I'm just really—I'm really glad I get to come home to you again."

Tommy's face softens. "Oh, sweetheart."

Evan's boyfriend is massive. It's one of the things he loves most about him. Tommy can (and has) manhandled him with ease countless times before. But the way he touches him now, careful of all his broken parts, is so gentle that Evan almost feels like crying. He melts into the warmth of his embrace as he feels Tommy's nose press into the soft hairs at his temple, followed by a quick brush of his lips.

"I'm glad you get to come home at all. I—god. You have no idea, Evan. You just don't know." He huffs a laugh that's not really a laugh at all and holds him slightly tighter. "I know it's the job, like you said, and I never really minded when it was me running into burning buildings. But now it's you, and—" he pauses. Swallows. "Well. It's not really as fun from this side of things."

"Says the guy who flies helicopters into hurricanes for a living."

Tommy's laugh is actually more of a laugh that time. Something eases in Evan's chest. He tips his chin to look at him.

They're standing far too closely, far too intimately to be considered casual. He's not out to anyone at the station except his family, and he can feel curious eyes roving over them every now and again.

But Tommy is shaking.

It's a small tremble wracking his body, clearly suppressed (or at least trying to be), but it's there and it's breaking Evan's heart to pieces.

Maybe it's that that gives him the courage. Or maybe it's the fact that he almost died. Or maybe it's the fact that Tommy smells like his laundry detergent and, this close Evan can see the edge of the hickey he left beneath his collarbone, or maybe (most likely) it's all of those things. But before he can think about it, before he can stop himself, Evan is murmuring,

"Can I kiss you?"

Tommy's eyebrows raise to his hairline. His gaze darts around, but they're tucked away from the largest portion of the crowd of first responders that arrived at the structure fire. The only person that's even sort of nearby is Hen, and she's so obviously giving them privacy that Evan wants to hug her a little bit.

Later.

Right now, he just wants to kiss.

Tommy frowns. "Are you sure? I mean. Yes. You can. I always want to kiss you but you're not out."

This is true. Evan considers this for a moment and decides that, right now, he doesn't care. Everyone he cares about already knows he's bisexual and they love him regardless, have loved him all this time.

He doesn't give a shit about anyone else.

"We don't have to," he says after a moment. "But I'm tired. And everything hurts. And when I was under there, all I could think about was—was you and getting back to you and kissing you, and so I—"

He's cut off by the feel of Tommy's mouth on his, tension gliding from his shoulders as their lips slot together.

Finally.

This is what he's been needing ever since he emerged from the rubble. Ever since Hen dragged him to the ambulance and sat him down to tend to his wounds. Ever since Chimney told him he called Tommy to let him know what happened.

This is what he's been missing.

Tommy's heartbeat jackrabbits against his chest.

It's an odd thing to be able to feel someone's heartbeat, to be pressed so close together that you can literally feel the thing that's keeping them alive. Evan has never felt anything more sacred, he thinks, and the fact that this heart—this beautiful fucking heart—beats a litany of fear for him through Tommy's veins is overwhelming.

Humbling.

He adores this man.

He lets go of Tommy's wrist and slides his hand up until it rests over Tommy's heart, and then he waits and waits and waits until the beat starts to slow down. Until Tommy exhales a sigh against the side of his face.

There it is, that's what he was waiting for.

Tommy pulls back first, far enough to press their foreheads together.

"You need to go to a hospital," he murmurs.

"Later."

"No, now." His laughter is soft. "Hen is glaring daggers at me. I can't be sure, but I'm fairly certain she's about to pry you out of my arms and strap you to the gurney herself."

Evan snorts. Yeah, that sounds like Hen.

He takes a step back out of the warm circle of Tommy's arms. A bout of vertigo nearly knocks him off his feet, but then Tommy is there once again, holding him up.

Evan's own heart beats just a little bit faster.

Together, they walk over to the back of the ambulance, Tommy helping him get settled on the gurney once they get there.

Evan meets his eyes. "Come visit me in the hospital?"

"Visit you? I'll be right behind."

Tommy presses a kiss to the back of his hand, and this time when the vertigo hits again, he's not entirely sure it's just because of his injuries.

He's never felt so adored, so treasured before. It's intoxicating.

Tommy looks over his shoulder, his face earnest. "I know I don't have to ask, but please take care of him."

Hen's voice is immensely fond. "Relax, Kinard. He's in good hands."

Tommy nods. He meets his gaze again and then holds it until the ambulance doors close. It's only when Evan leans back that he remembers, oh, right. Everything does kind of hurt after all.

Definitely not okay, then.

"Ow."

"Yeah, I know." Hen's voice is still soft. She fusses about the back of the ambulance, plying him with bandages and medicine and whatever the hell else she's doing. He's not entirely sure. Reality is starting to slip away. Her face appears in his field of vision. "We'll be at the hospital soon. Close your eyes."

"Tommy?"

"Buck, I'm pretty sure not even a natural disaster could keep that man from being at your side." Her tone is teasing, but she's sincere. Something warm settles in his chest even as his eyelids drift closed. "Rest. The sooner you go to sleep, the sooner you can see him."

Evan's not sure about that logic but he's too weary to question it. He closes his eyes anyway, lets the rock of the ambulance lull him into a relative sense of peace, and he falls asleep imagining the warmth of Tommy's body beside him.

#ngl I giggled to myself SO MANY TIMES WHILE WRITING THIS OH MY GOD #*screams and kicks my feet*#anyways #bucktommy #jack answers mail #tv: 911

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satvruu · 4 months

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ೀ how they hug you

rewritten and reposted of my hc set from my old blog @/star-puff! thank you to all my old dedications as well as my new ones @kurooppi @wyllsravengard for making my return to this fandom possible <3

feedback is very appreciated!

ft. yuuji, megumi, gojo, getou, nanami

itadori yuuji embraces you warmly, fondly, sunlight streaming through the window and scattering over your bare skin. it's someplace safe and comforting, enveloped in his arms like he's taken it upon himself to protect you from everything horrible in the world; he is your knight, he is your shield, your safe haven to escape to, no matter how many wounds he will endure in the process. ("yuuji," you whisper, a hand coming up to rest gently on his arm. he bleeds desperation. "i'm okay, i promise." yuuji squeezes you tighter, trembling, and you wonder what you can do to make it true for him, too.) he holds you for far too long for it to be anything casual, but you can't really complain about it anyway—it's better this than to witness the alternative. after all, what is the sun without a place to hold its warmth; what becomes of a hero when they fail to protect the things that matter most?

fushigurou megumi comes to you slow, steady, a ripple of water in the pond. you coax him out gently, holding your arms out before wrapping them around him. his breath hitches (always, no matter how many times he tries to hide it) and his body stiffens, arms frozen at his sides. but slowly, surely, your head buried in his chest, megumi's arms begin to wrap around you in a manner you can only describe as tender—as if you could break if he held onto you too tight. (truthfully, megumi thinks he's just afraid. the jujutsu world is a dangerous one, after all, even to those who only know of it by name. megumi has lost too many people, and you're the one person he can't afford to lose.) he flinches at the thought, pulling away. you draw yourself closer in him, instead. moonlight behind the clouds, you'd gladly hold onto this night forever if it meant megumi was by your side.

gojo satoru is known as many things—a child prodigy, the strongest, a boy-god making his presence known on the lowly earth, but to you, he is simply just obnoxious. satoru makes it a spectacle each time he sees you: hollering, gallivanting, draping himself over you with his long limbs and impossible-to-miss frame. you huff and complain and uselessly try to drag yourself away from him each time, but satoru hooks onto you and refuses to let you go, nuzzling his face into yours. (they're mine, the action screams, a blaring warning to anyone unfortunate enough to get caught in the collateral. you've been too caught up in your irritation of him to notice this, of course, and you're certainly not someone who would take the explicit meaning of it kindly, but satoru finds that he doesn't really care. not when he has more important things to attend to.) gojo satoru is many things, but the one thing he absolutely isn't is someone who can share.

getou suguru smells of sandalwood incense, a musky amber you think you could identify blind. sometimes, you think you remember a different suguru, a kinder suguru, one that had easier things to worry about, a brighter look in his eyes, an easier weight to his gait. if you think back far enough, you suppose it might have been because he had somebody else by his side to keep it that way, a brighter light shining next to him to keep the darkness at bay. (but that was a long time ago. now, suguru is the one left to be lit by the fire, stuck in the ashes of his own kin for a future little understand. you're not sure who is to blame for that anymore.) you're not the light that can save him—no one can be, not anymore. when suguru reaches out to you, rare vulnerability bubbling over in a way you can only describe as drowning—as crumbling—the only thing you can do is curl yourself next to him in the incense burner, smearing yourself in the ash.

nanami kento thinks you need this, especially after a long, hard day. the melting comes slow: his hands on your back, gentle pats and quiet whispers of comfort as he rests his chin on your head. and then comes everything else. his hands slot perfectly into the dip of your back, the small of your waist, thumbs rubbing small circles over the fabric of your clothes, and in the eyes of no one but yourselves, the two of you begin to sway back and forth to a quiet melody nanami begins to hum. you cling onto the fabric of his shirt, trying to memorie the smell of his cologne, the rumble of his voice, the warmth of his arms. (it's too much, to have a memory of a future that will inevitably happen. you almost want to cry. don't go, you want to say, a lump in your throat, wishing for the impossible. don't go.) and still, selfish as you are, nanami hugs you like you're slow dancing in the dark.

#jjk x reader #jjk imagines #jjk headcanons #itadori x reader #itadori yuuji x reader #fushiguro megumi x reader #megumi x reader #fushiguro x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo x reader #getou x reader #geto x reader #geto suguru x reader #suguru geto x reader #nanami x reader #nanami kento x reader #yuuji x reader #yuji x reader

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sillylotrpolls · 4 months

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(Relevant text below the poll)

Inspired by this post by @roselightfairy and replies by @herrhasen, @enide-s-dear, @unnamedelement, @dragonfirez, and @carlandrea.

If you'd like to refresh your memory of the Fellowship at its bitchiest (and Boromir at his best), the relevant text is below the cut.

Excerpted from The Fellowship of the Ring, Book II, Chapter 3: The Ring Goes South

Gimli looked up and shook his head. 'Caradhras has not forgiven us.' he said. 'He has more snow yet to fling at us, if we go on. The sooner we go back and down the better.'

To this all agreed, but their retreat was now difficult. It might well prove impossible. Only a few paces from the ashes of their fire the snow lay many feet deep, higher than the heads of the hobbits; in places it had been scooped and piled by the wind into great drifts against the cliff.

'If Gandalf would go before us with a bright flame, he might melt a path for you,' said Legolas. The storm had troubled him little, and he alone of the Company remained still light of heart.

'If Elves could fly over mountains, they might fetch the Sun to save us,' answered Gandalf. 'But I must have something to work on. I cannot burn snow.'

'Well,' said Boromir, 'when heads are at a loss bodies must serve, as we say in my country. The strongest of us must seek a way. See! Though all is now snow-clad, our path, as we came up, turned about that shoulder of rock down yonder. It was there that the snow first began to burden us. If we could reach that point, maybe it would prove easier beyond. It is no more than a furlong off, I guess.'

'Then let us force a path thither, you and I!' said Aragorn.

Aragorn was the tallest of the Company, but Boromir, little less in height, was broader and heavier in build. He led the way, and Aragorn followed him. Slowly they moved off, and were soon toiling heavily. In places the snow was breast-high, and often Boromir seemed to be swimming or burrowing with his great arms rather than walking.

Legolas watched them for a while with a smile upon his lips, and then he turned to the others. 'The strongest must seek a way, say you? But I say: let a ploughman plough, but choose an otter for swimming, and for running light over grass and leaf or over snow-an Elf.'

With that he sprang forth nimbly, and then Frodo noticed as if for the first time, though he had long known it, that the Elf had no boots, but wore only light shoes, as he always did, and his feet made little imprint in the snow.

'Farewell!' he said to Gandalf. 'I go to find the Sun!' Then swift as a runner over firm sand he shot away, and quickly overtaking the toiling men, with a wave of his hand he passed them, and sped into the distance, and vanished round the rocky turn.

The others waited huddled together, watching until Boromir and Aragorn dwindled into black specks in the whiteness. At length they too passed from sight. The time dragged on. The clouds lowered, and now a few flakes of snow came curling down again.

An hour, maybe, went by, though it seemed far longer, and then at last they saw Legolas coming back. At the same time Boromir and Aragorn reappeared round the bend far behind him and came labouring up the slope.

'Well,' cried Legolas as he ran up, 'I have not brought the Sun. She is walking in the blue fields of the South, and a little wreath of snow on this Redhorn hillock troubles her not at all. But I have brought back a gleam of good hope for those who are doomed to go on feet. There is the greatest winddrift of all just beyond the turn, and there our Strong Men were almost buried. They despaired, until I returned and told them that the drift was little wider than a wall. And on the other side the snow suddenly grows less, while further down it is no more than a white coverlet to cool a hobbit's toes.'

'Ah, it is as I said,' growled Gimli. 'It was no ordinary storm. It is the ill will of Caradhras. He does not love Elves and Dwarves, and that drift was laid to cut off our escape.'

'But happily your Caradhras has forgotten that you have Men with you,' said Boromir, who came up at that moment. 'And doughty Men too, if I may say it; though lesser men with spades might have served you better. Still, we have thrust a lane through the drift; and for that all here may be grateful who cannot run as light as Elves.'

'But how are we to get down there, even if you have cut through the drift?' said Pippin, voicing the thought of all the hobbits.

'Have hope!' said Boromir. 'I am weary, but I still have some strength left, and Aragorn too. We will bear the little folk. The others no doubt will make shift to tread the path behind us. Come, Master Peregrin! I will begin with you.'

He lifted up the hobbit. 'Cling to my back! I shall need my arms' he said and strode forward. Aragorn with Merry came behind. Pippin marvelled at his strength, seeing the passage that he had already forced with no other tool than his great limbs. Even now, burdened as he was, he was widening the track for those who followed, thrusting the snow aside as he went.

They came at length to the great drift. It was flung across the mountainpath like a sheer and sudden wall, and its crest, sharp as if shaped with knives, reared up more than twice the height of Boromir; but through the middle a passage had been beaten, rising and falling like a bridge. On the far side Merry and Pippin were set down, and there they waited with Legolas for the rest of the Company to arrive.

After a while Boromir returned carrying Sam. Behind in the narrow but now well-trodden track came Gandalf, leading Bill with Gimli perched among the baggage. Last came Aragorn carrying Frodo. They passed through the lane; but hardly had Frodo touched the ground when with a deep rumble there rolled down a fall of stones and slithering snow. The spray of it half blinded the Company as they crouched against the cliff, and when the air cleared again they saw that the path was blocked behind them.

'Enough, enough!' cried Gimli. 'We are departing as quickly as we may!'

And indeed with that last stroke the malice of the mountain seemed to be expended, as if Caradhras was satisfied that the invaders had been beaten off and would not dare to return. The threat of snow lifted; the clouds began to break and the light grew broader.

As Legolas had reported, they found that the snow became steadily more shallow as they went down, so that even the hobbits could trudge along. Soon they all stood once more on the flat shelf at the head of the steep slope where they had felt the first flakes of snow the night before.

#lotr #lord of the rings #poll #polls #legolas #it came from tumblr

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wonderlandwalker · 5 months

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Remember | Finnick Odair x Reader

THG Masterlist / Taglist / Inbox

Summary: The capitol has taken you from him, but he won't let them keep you. You can find pt. 2 here!

Content Warnings/Tags: Violence, bullet wounds, major character injury, blood, needles, angst, fluff, no use of y/n

Word Count: 4.0k

Requested by Anon: omg I love your writing and I have an unhealthy addiction to reading angst so could you please write something about the reader being with peeta and Johanna when they where taken by the capital and her being with finnick and recovering while she’s in district 13? 🫶🫶

A/N: The way I smiled when I saw this request I swear. This one has been in the works for a little while and I thought it fit perfectly. It is angst you ask for and it is angst you shall get. I'm considering writing a part two but I'm not sure how to yet. My bad habit of not proofreading happened again and with this one especially it was way too long so if I made any major errors pls do let me know.

The Capitol.

You are currently in the Capitol.

At least that’s where you think you are. You remember being in the arena, you remember running towards the general direction you last saw Finnick, remembering the marks you had gone by in case you had to take a different route. You remember seeing Finnick's face through the plantation, you’d be able to recall those features anywhere. You remember something hitting you from behind and falling to the ground, too caught up in catching up with him to check your surroundings. You remember crying out in pain, hoping he’d hear you. But the next thing you remember is the vision of him slowly going out of focus and losing consciousness not long after.

At least that's what you think happened.

At least you can still remember, that’s worth something right? You remember your past, and you remember the reaping that led to the arena. The flood of relief that went over you as you finally found your way back to him. You don’t know what happened to Finnick, he was there too after all, but you had needed to split up early. Maybe he had been caught off guard too. Maybe he escaped. Maybe they never even found him. Maybe with him being the idiot he could be, he was probably already on his way here, looking for you. Just like you would have done for him, and he would have called you an idiot then too.

You would get out of here one way or another, that much you knew, but you needed to remember more, you needed to remember the last look on his face, you hadn't had much time to take it in, but you remembered the furrow of his eyebrows, the same expression he always had when he was trying to concentrate, you needed to remember that.

You knew that once you did get out of here, Finnick would be furious, telling you that you had been reckless, that you shouldn't have let your guard down, shortly after telling you how worried he had been. And it would feel like coming home.

Your mind becomes hazier, and it is harder to remember. You feel your head throbbing, and you move your hand towards it until you feel it can move no further. You open your eyes slowly, trying to adjust to the bright light that covers the room. You can't see much, can't move your head much.

You remember the rendezvous point you had talked about. You remember the quick “don't get yourself in trouble” and the kiss he gave you right before you parted ways.

You remember the layers of plants and trees you moved through, seeing some of them cut down, letting you know someone else had been there

But you know there is more, more that you missed. The stomped-out ashes that you ran past, you know you should have paid closer attention. But you can’t remember

You need to remember what happened. How you got here. Who got you here. If you really are in the capitol. But your mind doesn't want to cooperate anymore. The room is getting darker and darker, even though the lamp above your head is still dutifully buzzing

You wake up, you still remember where you are, or at least where you think you are. You still remember yesterday, was it yesterday? Why couldn't they just hang a clock in here?

You look up, and you see a device set up, not too far from where you're lying down. You try to get a better look but the light above your head is too blinding to see anything else in the room. You don’t fully understand it until a man walks into the room with a video camera in his hand and an expression on his face that seems just a tad too happy.

The camera starts blinking a red light, signalling you that it has started recording. The man has a sort of laser that he presses into your lower stomach, it doesn't breach your skin but it hurts like it does. It takes all your energy not to show him the satisfaction of it.

“Come on now darling, work with me a little.” He says after a while, changing the setting on the laser. The last bit of your energy is gone, and you can't keep the screaming from escaping any longer. It echoes off the white walls around you and when you hear yourself, you barely even recognize it. He seems satisfied with the result and finally puts the laser down. You look down but don't see any burn marks or indication of what has just happened.

He comes closer and you can see he is holding a sort of crowbar, but you're not sure why. You remember how you always left one outside your window in the districts, in case the wind had shut it and you needed to sneak back in. You remember Finnick finding out, giving you a serious, disappointed look, but not telling you to stop.

Before you can think of anything else, the bar hits you with full force, right above the spot he was previously focused on. You didn't expect it, and it knocks the little breath you had left out of your lungs. He hits again, not in the same spot, but close, he is very clearly aiming for your ribs. The switching between high-tech and old-school weapons has you puzzled, but you can't deny the result either of them has.

After a while, he stops, and with the added difficulty and pain that now comes with breathing, you are more than certain he just bruised a few of your ribs.

He walks back, taking the camera in his hands. He aims it at your face and you close your eyes to try and collect yourself as much as your current state allows. Your hair is a tangled mess and you are rather certain there is blood smushed over your face from the cuts you got in the arena.

“Smile for the camera sweetheart.” He asks, even though it sounds more like an order than a request. You open your eyes to look at him. He is so close, and you want to drive your thumbs so far into his eye sockets you can feel the front lobe of his brain, if he even has one. But you can't do anything, no matter how much you want to fight, you are powerless here. You close your eyes again, trying to block everything out and remember.

You remember District Four, the way the light summer breeze would always carry the smell of the beach to your house, no matter how hard you had it, it always livened you up. You remember the first time Finnick tried to teach you how to surf, being so gentle with you no matter how many times you fell off it, always there to catch you again. You remember your last birthday, well, the day after, but you couldn't even complain about that. He had picked you up from your place and brought you to one of the lakes with him. He told you the story of one of his birthdays when he was younger, along with all the embarrassing details, but of course, it only endeared him further to you. You told him about the presents you got and all the people who came to wish you a happy birthday. You told him everything you could remember. You remember last seeing his face, maybe it was the last time you will have ever seen it. No. No, you remember it, but you’ll see it again, you have to.

“I’ll make sure your loverboy gets to see this, wherever he is, wouldn't want him to miss out on the fun.”

Finn. Finnick. You remember Finnick. You remember when you returned from your first games. The black eye and broken arm you came home with. You remember how he lost it when they didn't immediately treat you for it. He would now either throw a fit over it for everyone to see or be so stoic in his thoughts even Johanna would get a little concerned.

You see the man standing up, walking to the table, and picking up something new. A syringe, it's a syringe. He walks over and pushes it into your upper arm, and before you know it, your vision turns black again.

You remember waking up to gunshots, and you panic. But after a few seconds, you figure out they’re not near you. There is, however, someone in the room with you, it's the same man again. He looks a little panicked, but you can’t figure out why just yet. The gunshots are becoming louder, and closer, and he seems more startled now. His arms drop to his sides from what he was doing and his eyes widen. Screams are echoing and you can hear footsteps.

You remember that pattern of paddling feet, and you recognize the second pair of steps too, but you can't remember much else.

The man gets closer to you, placing his hand over your mouth, pulling out a gun with his free hand and telling you to stay quiet. You never understood why people say that, it means he has something to lose, and you want to scream out, but your voice doesn't remember how to.

It's even closer now, right outside the door, and you can hear talking. You remember his voice. How he always asked you so sweetly how your day had been, the way he whispered sweet nothings in your ear as you fell asleep.

You hear the door jiggle, and it makes you want to scream out for him, but your sore throat won't let you. For a moment you think that is it, you had your chance, and you let it go by. He’ll move along the hallway to the other doors and leave you here. But then you hear another gunshot, and they must have shot the lock, because right after you hear someone running into the door with an echoing thump as it breaks open.

The man next to you had his gun pointed at the door, and he changes it to point at you instead.

You were right, by the gods you had never been so thankful to have been right. Finnick walks in, and you can see the colour drain from his face as he does so.

The man standing next to you is starting to get nervous, you can see the sweat starting to drip down his face. He must realize he has been matched, because there are more people by Finnicks side. But the man still has his gun pointed at you, and this isn't over just yet.

You can't keep your eyes open anymore, and when you close them, you remember. You remember your first kiss with Finnick, how nervous he had been at the time. He had been shaking a little and told you he was embarrassed by how much you got to him, but it only endeared him further to you. He yells at the man to let go of the gun, he sounds nervous again.

But he doesn't let go, he decides to shoot.

You hear the bullet leaving the gun, and for a single moment, you think it's over. The last thing you’ll ever see is Finnick, but he’s not himself. He’s upset, and even though you know he’s not upset with you, it still tugs at you. Except when you feel the bullet piercing through your skin, that's exactly what you realise. You can still feel it. He didn't shoot you right in the heart, he didn't shoot towards your head, he shot you in the abdomen. You’re not sure why, not sure why he didn't kill you, but you will never know, because not even a second passes as you hear a second gunshot, and he falls to the floor.

You can't seem to remember how to open your eyes, but you can hear Finnick rushing over and right as he reaches you, you fall. You fall into his arms and the memory of it gives you hope. Something comes in contact with your stomach, and the agony of it makes you want to scream out. You can feel him lifting you, and the shift of your body makes the bullet move, making you want to scream again. And if you remembered how to, you would have.

You know he’s talking to someone, but it sounds more like buzzing to you. You can only make out certain parts of the conversation, something about needing to leave, something about infections, and something about an aircraft.

You can hear him talking again, and this time it’s directed at you. There’s a strain in his voice, and it sounds like he’s crying. It makes you want to comfort him, but you don’t remember how to.

“Please darling, just open your eyes."

But you’re afraid, youre afraid that if you open them, everything will turn out to be nothing but a dream, and he won’t be here anymore. But even if this is a dream, you need to see him. Even if it will turn into a haunted memory, you need to see his eyes looking back at you. It takes you some effort, but you open your eyes, looking at him. You can see tears flooding his face, you can see his lips moving, silent pleas coming from them for you to stay awake. He’s telling you how good of a job you’re doing, he's telling you to hold on. He promises that he won’t let anything bad happen to you ever again and that he won’t let go of you anymore.

You remember how he cried when you were reaped for the 75th games, and how you had told him everything would be okay, how you had comforted him, but you don't have the energy to comfort him this time. You remember hearing his sobbing, his shaking voice when you close your eyes again, not being able to keep them open any longer, even if you wanted to.

You wake up again, and for a moment you think it had indeed all been a dream, that you were right back where you had started, But then you remember the bullet in your stomach. You look down and see a bandage over it, even though it’s already soaked in blood. They must have taken it out.

You try and concentrate, and you can hear Finnick talking to someone. “Just tell me, I know it’s bad but I need to know.” “Finnick, it won’t make a difference.” The person he’s talking to sounds desperate, and you remember how stubborn he could be when it came to you.

But you don’t remember more, because your head starts to feel light again and you give in to the feeling.

When you wake up again, you manage to open your eyes, and you can see someone sitting in a chair next to the bed you're in. He’s slumped over, his face half pressed into the mattress and half into your stomach, both of his hands are holding onto one of yours. It hurts a little, but you don't mind, because it reminds you, even when you look away, that he is still there. You remember the way he always softly snores, and the way he wiggles his nose when your hair falls over it.

You think you're connected to a monitor, because something is beeping in the same rhythm you can feel your heart beating, and it gives you a headache. So you close your eyes again, and once again, you give in to the feeling of sleep that looms over you.

Since you had been brought to District 13, he has barely left your side. He keeps putting cold washcloths on your forehead to try and break your fever. It won't help, and he knows it, but no one has the heart to stop him.

You haven't shown a single sign of life since they had found you. It was unsettling, the silence that filled the room, none of your usual laughter and banter there to replace it.

It’s only when Finnick's head shoots up that the others notice it as well. The steady beeping that has been imposing the silence in this room for weeks picking up its pace. The beating continues to go faster and faster, your body shaking up from the bed in almost the same rhythm. But right before anyone can do anything about it, it stops. It all seems to stop, you stop moving, and the monitor stops beating.

He starts giving you chest compressions, and someone rushes into the room holding a small bottle, they fill a syringe with the clear liquid and inject it into your arm. Within a few seconds, your heart starts beating again. But it’s only after a minute of the monitor showing him a steady heartrate that he stops his actions.

It’s dark in the room when Finnick wakes up, and if it wasn't for the soft light and the beeping of the monitor, he would've thought he was dreaming, but it seems the reality won’t let him escape. He struggles not to fall back asleep, and every few minutes he does, but every time he wakes up startled again, scared that you’ll be gone if he doesn't open his eyes every once in a while. It was easy to see the toll it had taken on him. His posture was slouched, his face less well-groomed than usual. But no one could blame him, because they could see the way he looked at you, as if you were the sun and your dimmed light turned his world dark.

He knows the chance you can hear him is small, but he feels the urge to talk to you nonetheless.

“I don't think I can hold this in any longer. I remember some studies that have shown people in comas do hear what's going on around them, but maybe it’s for the best that you don’t, because you would never say yes.”

He continues but he feels his voice choke up, and he runs a hand through your hair to calm himself down, his other hand still holding onto yours.

“We talked about it once, I still remember every single word you said. You came at me with all your logical reasons for why it would be a bad idea. But what you never understood is that when it comes to you, I'm not able to think rationally, because my love for you will overpower anything else.” He chuckles softly as he recalls the memory he’s about to tell you next.

“I remember when I opened up to you for the first time. I had always held things to myself, but you were so calm as I talked to you. I thought for sure I had screwed it up somehow then. Everyone always tells me now how happy you make me, and they're right. Ever since you came into my life there has not been a single moment when the thought of you did not bring me joy, even when we fought my memories of you could still somehow bring a smile to my face.

I remember when they showed me the video, they hadn't wanted me to see it, but you know how stubborn I can be when it comes to you. I saw you, I saw the way in which they were hurting you. And I started yelling, ironically enough in that moment, you were the only one that could have calmed me down. I remember yelling at them, fighting with them not to wait any longer, that they couldn't let you wait any longer, they had to have me sedating until they came to a conclusion."

He reaches into the pocket of his trousers, taking a small ring. It was his mother's ring, he had found it a while back and had carried it with him ever since. He had thought of moments to give it to you, but every time there was one, every time he was about to ask you, something had happened, something had interrupted him. But there was no one interrupting him this time. “I have thought about asking you this every time I see you, and I can't hold it in any longer. So when you wake up, not if you wake up, because I know you will. I know you will wake up because you have to. So when you wake up, will you marry me.” A little part of him had thought you'd wake up, that you’d answer him. Even if you said no, it would still be better than what's happening right now, because he didn't care if you'd say no, if you’d say you weren't ready, because nothing could be worse than the silence that followed him. And so he slid the ring onto your finger delicately, as if you were to disappear if he wasn't careful. He put the ring on your hand because he knew that even if it wasn't today, and it wasn't tomorrow, someday you would marry him, and he wouldn't let you slip away.

At first, he thought he was imagining it, sleep deprivation and desperation playing a trick on his mind. But then he saw it again, in the beams of morning light he could see your hand moving, as if it was trying to grasp onto something, trying to pull you back into this world. It woke him up in an instant. But it was all followed so fast, the way your eyes slowly opened, squinting at the light. Before you had even awoken for a second, he moved from where he had been right beside you in order to hug you. And he was about to get lost in the thought of your moving lips, tears falling down his eyes, about to get lost in a kiss full of built-up pain and desperation when he noticed, something was wrong. Your eyebrows were knitted together and the corners of your mouth turned down just a little. He looked at your expression, your body language, something was wrong. You looked vulnerable, you looked like you wanted to protect yourself from someone.

It was only when he looked into your eyes that he truly understood something was very wrong.

Your eyes looked as if you were in pain, but it wasn't a look of any physical pain, it looked as if something was endangering you, but he couldn't understand what it was. He slowly moved so as not to startle you and asked you “Darling, what’s wrong” And at first you didn’t respond, but when he kept looking at you, expecting him to answer you, you started to speak. “Am I supposed to remember you?”

He immediately flinched back at the statement, his shoulder sunk and his eyes dimmed. Someone told him it wasn't uncommon for brain injuries to cause short-term memory loss after a coma.

So slowly, and surely, he made it work. But it was crumbling him down every time you didn't remember the unconscious acts of affection, so foreign to you now. A quick touch on your arm as he walked towards you made you flinch slightly as if his hand had been on fire. The subtle smiles he gave you when entering a room were now met with you looking down. The way that even though you were physically here, you really weren't.

He promised himself, he vowed to himself that he would make you remember. That no matter how long it took, he would wait for you. He would wait for you to remember, make you remember. Because he had very quickly learned that he couldn’t live without you anymore.

Part 2: Trying to Forget

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nerdofspades · 1 year

Text

Bruce looked at the pop-up on the Batcomputer's screen.

"Explain," he growled, glancing down at Tim.

"Not much to explain," Tim answered, pulling up lines of code. "It showed up ten seconds ago."

"I'm starting a full diagnostic," Barbara said, voice filtering through the speakers. "So far, I'm not seeing anything."

"And yet..." Time trailed off glancing at the window again. It had a video queued up to play and the words "IMPORTANT: PLEASE WATCH. DO NOT DELETE" in large text at the top.

"There's a new folder labeled 'a gift for Batman,'" Tim said. "Not something any of us made."

"Clearly."

"I'm still not finding any viruses, corrupted files, or spyware," Oracle said. "The new folder was programmed to stay in a hidden partition for a few days after it was placed. Then, obviously, the pop-up to catch our attention."

"Folder also has a text file named 'security notes,'" Tim said. "Maybe our new hacker is friendly?"

"It's starting to look like it," Oracle agreed. "The video is clean. It should be safe to watch."

Bruce sighed. "Then let's see what they've got for us."

The video opened with a dark room. The background hidden in shadows, while the foreground was well lit, letting them clearly see the tired teen in the center of the frame as he took a heavy swig from his mug before putting it down.

"Pulling up facial recognition."

He ran a hand through his messy black hair and then down his face, pinching his nose and hiding the bags under his blues eyes for a moment before he dropped his hand and finally looked at the camera.

"I really don't want to do this," he said, "but you need it." He glanced longingly off screen in the direction of the mug he'd put down.

"First of all, I think I should apologize for hacking you. Or asking my friend to, technically. I just. You need to know about this and I didn't know of another way to get it to you that would be secure.

"I did at least make him promise to make a record of how he got in so you can patch that.

"That out of the way... to business? I'm Danny Fenton, for the last year or so I have also been the hero Phantom in Amity Park. My parents are Jack and Maddie Fenton. They are ectobiologists and ghost hunters. While extremely biased and not actually that good at catching ghosts, their tech is easily the best in the business."

"That's a positive match."

"Running a search on Phantom."

"I- fucking shit." Danny put his head in his hands again, running them back through his hair before leaning back, almost collapsing into the chair.

"This kid has... gotten into some shit."

"Everyone knows you're the League's strategist, Batman. And. I'm strong enough. I can handle my problems, that's not what I'm worried about.

"It's been about a year and I've already been mind controlled once." Danny laughed. A dry, broken, almost desperate laugh. "And that was just some lowlife that wanted to rob jewelry stores. I'm still not worried about. It's not why I'm sending you this. The magic relic he used is broken and gone now."

"Well that explains one of his problems."

"The others?"

"An attempted kidnapping and fairly standard property damage. I want to see some footage of those fights before passing judgement."

"Even more standard given he doesn't seem to have a mentor. Batman, he was fourteen."

"No. I. I've seen a version of the future. One where I go mad. Where I snap. And the Justice League can't stop me.

"I don't know if I- he kills everyone. I don't know who, if anyone, makes it out. But it's not anyone that could really do much. I... I saw ten years after he- I snapped. Earth was little more than rubble and ash. Only one city was left holding out and it was about to fall- was falling when I got there.

"I've managed to change the time line. What broke him didn't happen here. But. I can't guarantee nothing ever could.

"So. Yeah. Next best thing is making sure you're prepared. All my powers. All my weaknesses. Everything I know of that could possibly hurt me. Schematics and blue prints for anything you could need to fight me, track me, keep me out, keep me contained. All nice and giftwrapped for your convenience.

"Uh... that's everything. Why is it always so awkward to end a video? Hopefully we never see each other? I guess? Pretty sure us actually meeting is gonna be a bad sign.

"You know what. I'm gonna turn this thing off now before I say something stupid."

"Batman, who's 'Phantom'?" Superman asked, glancing up from the Watchtower computer he was working at. "Aren't we supposed to vote on new members?"

Batman grunted. "He's not a member, just someone who understands the need for contingencies."

"You know what, I'm not gonna even ask."

"Probably for the best."

#dp x dc #bruce wayne #batman #danny phantom #dc #batman's contingincies #tim drake #barbara gordon

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baby-tini · 18 days

Note

Imagine Dabi kidnaps you and he's actually really sweet. Besides the kidnapping, he could be actual boyfriend/husband material. Like he hasn't hurt you physically and it kind of fucks with your head a bit. He provides everything you need to live plus more. And you don't have to worry about surviving anymore. Since you were kidnapped dare you say more relaxed than ever. So, you put up with it and eventually develop Stockholm syndrome fr.

I don't think this was a request BUT I genuinely can't stop thinking about this, I love when he's so soft.

You despised him at first when he took you away, but it got better, Dabi told you it would. He told you that if you behaved that he would take care of you, treat you like a princess. Dabi truly loved you, he just wanted you to understand that and he would do anything to make you understand. It took a little while with punishments here and there but it worked. When he came home, you were there to greet him with open arms. Telling him how much you missed him, kissing him, nuzzling into his chest. Dabi could truly say, that for once in his life he truly felt happy, at peace... like he finally was enough for someone.

It felt.. nice, to be around Dabi, he was comforting in a way. Brushed your hair for you, braided it, let you sit with him on the balcony as he smoked. It was nice to just sit and talk about things with him, smelling the mid-night air as you leaned against his chest. He smelled nice, the smell of cigarettes now becoming a comfort, the sick smell of ash that had you wrinkling your nose now had you clinging to him, shoving your nose into his jacket. Dabi truly became someone of comfort for you, holding you close on cold nights. Kissing your head when the thunder sounded too loud on some nights.

You don't remember falling asleep, but then again, no one does. His side of the bed was warm though, so that had too mean he was home now, throwing the comforter off you go looking for him, and sure enough, he was out on the balcony, smoking. He truly looked ethereal, his eyes relaxed, shining a beautiful cerulean, head thrown back, dyed black hair a little tousled from scarred hands running through it. Dabi truly is a sight to behold.

Opening the sliding door, he looks up at you as you step out, closing it behind you so that bugs don't get it. He wraps an arm around you as you walk towards him, plopping down into his lap as blows the smoke away from you. "How you feeling doll, you sleep good?" There's a nod from you as you bury your face into his chest, inhaling that sweet smell of ash you've come to adore so much. The smell always makes you think of him, an automatic comfort it brings you is a stress-relief.

"How was work," you ask him softly, running your hands through his hair. He inhales through his nose before sighing, "It was fine, tiring, but fine." You can tell, he sounds exhausted, looks exhausted too. You kiss him, running your hands up and down the nape of his neck, he shudders at that, pecking your cheek. His right hand running up and down your back, drawing little patterns every now and again.

"...can I hit it," he glances at you, then looks at the cigarette, the tip burning a bright blue. He hums at you, holding it to your lips as you inhale the smoke. Holding it for a couple seconds, you blow it out away from his face. He pushes some of your hair behind you ear, mouthing at your neck. "You feel better pretty girl, hm?" His voice is always a welcome, low and deep, sounding so apathetically pretty.

"Yeah, thank you," he hums again, kissing at your collar bone as he runs a hand through your hair. He kisses your cheek before giving a couple pats to your ass, "come on, up, I'm tired doll, lets head in."

#baby-tini #anon ask #dabi x reader #soft dabi #boku no hero academia dabi #dabi my hero academia #my hero academia dabi #dabi todoroki #bnha dabi #dabi #mha dabi #touya todoroki #todoroki touya #touya x reader #touya fluff #dabi fluff

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user2772636 · 4 months

Text

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

After the incident, things take a turn for both better and worse. All with that, gym class has turned the school into a zoo. When people can't take their eyes off of what's yours, you take their ability to see. What an ironic thing for a one-eyed boy to set his mind to.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: injury, teen boys being teen boys, jealousy (there's a small love triangle in this chapter)

===

Chapter two: My eye only

===

I stand next to Simone, waiting a few feet away from the butcher's for Michèle. I rummaged through my bag, making sure everything I needed for gym class was with me.

Simone rubs her thigh next to me. I smack her arm lightly.

"Stop touching it. You're going to make it worse." I say and she stops.

"It's going to be so embarrassing when we go to gym class. What if the love of my life will be there, and they see me with this ugly bruise on my thigh? First impressions are important. This bruise is gonna mess it up." Simone sighs anxiously.

"I don't think you'll meet the love of your life in a room full of sweaty, teenage boys. Plus, I think you've already met him. 3 o'clock." I nod my head towards Jean Pierre, walking out of the butcher's side door.

She greets him, and he only looks at her. I nod as a greeting. He only glances at me, too.

After a while, Michèle follows after him, closing the door.

"What's going on?" Simone asks Michèle. I greet her good morning. She smiles and greets me.

"He has a disciplinary hearing this afternoon." Michèle says, worried a little. We start to walk.

"There's nothing you can do. Stop worrying. Know what else is today? Our first gym class." I nod in agreement.

"Guess what?" I already knew the answer to that question, and roll my eyes.

"I fell this morning. I'm going to have a huge bruise." Simone whines.

××《☆》××

We are walking through the gate when Simone greets two girls.

"You already know everybody's name?" Michèle asks, impressed. I nod to the girls Simone greeted.

"Not everybody. Just the girls." Simone smiles at Michèle.

"I hope we don't do endurance classes. Do you sweat a lot?" She turns her head. "Hi, Laubrac." She turns back to us. We hear Laubrac say hi, too. Michèle also greets him.

"Why did you say hello to him?" Michèle asks Simone.

"Is that jealousy I hear in your voice, Michèle?" I tease her, smiling at her now flustered state. Simone laughs.

"No. Why would I be jealous?" Michèle says defensively.

"Don't worry. I'm just teasing. But I see the way you look at him. Did something happen in detention that I don't know about...?" I tease further.

Her face turns red like a tomato. Me and Simone laugh more.

"Whatever. Moving on, I swear, if my brother gets kicked out..." She shakes her head.

"He won't." Simone reassures with a knowing tone in her voice.

"Don't you remember Descamps? He took his eye out." Michèle exclaims. I feel myself gag, remembering the incident.

"Fine. But you know what's good?" Simone asks her.

"Don't say he still has one eye." Michèle says before Simone could answer her own question.

"Descamps is recuperating at home, so the teachers aren't seeing him. But they are seeing your brother." Simone says matter-of-factly.

"Your brother with his perfectly combed hair, good grades, nice manners." She's totally in love with him, it's obvious.

"People are thinking about him. No one's thinking about the one-eyed boy." We look in front of us to see everyone looking towards the gate. We turn around, and my heart drops to my stomach.

In all his glory, Joseph Descamps stands, had just walked through the gate. He looks the same as the day I last saw him, only now with a bandage on his eye and the glint of sun in them gone.

××《☆》××

Heels clack against the hardwood floor, making it creak.

My eyes travel to a familiar mop of ash brown hair. He turns his head, and I'm lost in a trance, unable to look away.

I was right. There was no brightness in his eyes (or eye) anymore. His stare felt blank, unreadable. He continues to stare, and that's when I snap back to reality and look away.

I still feel his eye on me for a few seconds, and then he goes to turn his head. Though his stare felt cold, without it, I felt colder.

"Can someone give me the dates of the Battle of the Marne?" Annick and a boy raise their hands.

"Mr Felbec?" Ms. Giraud says, and Felbec stands up.

"September fifth to the twelfth, 1914." Felbec answers. As I watch Felbec, I feel a pair of eyes on me. They're framed, but not Descamps.

It's the blonde boy. Applebaum was his name. He's decent looking, tall, sharp nose, but not so sharp sight. I look at him, and he looks away hurriedly.

Ms. Giraud gives a slow nod. "And who were the opposing armies?" Annick jumps in her seat, trying to get Ms. Giraud's attention. It certainly caught mine.

"Ms. Sabiani, are you going to jump on the desk for me to see you?" Ms. Giraud walks over to her. "Don't you think you have enough attention as it is?"

Is she jealous of Annick? Her beauty? Her youth? Her knowledge? It seems like it. Annick slowly drops her hand.

"The opposing armies." Ms. Giraud lets Annick answer.

"The French and the Germans." Annick answers.

"And the British Expeditionary Force. Don't raise your hand if you only know half the answer." Ms. Giraud adds on, rather cockily. Imagine bullying your student for your own benefit.

As she walks to her desk, she talks again. I might go deaf. "And please tie your hair back. This isn't a party. Okay, we'll talk more about the Battle of Marme tomorrow."

I feel Descamps turns his head to me again. I look, and I'm still met with an emotionless eye. He maintains it, but I waver and look away.

"Let's move on to naming our class leader." This catches my attention. Felbec raises his hand again. Ms. Giraud calls his name. When I turn to look at him, Applebaums eyes are stamped on me. I ignore his stare and shift in my seat.

"My classmates have always picked me as their class leader." Felbec tells Ms. Giraud. The class laughs. "I'm studious and get good grades." He adds, standing upright.

I still feel Applebaum's eyes on me. I glance at him and smile softly. He smiles back, a blush coating his cheeks. He's cute. I return my attention to the two people standing.

"Well, I'm not like your previous teachers, Felbec. You'll have to earn it." Ms. Giraud says with a smile. It doesn't fit her. Felbec sits back down.

"Does the Battle of Marathon mean anything to anyone?" Ms. Giraud asks the class. No one answers.

"I see. Whoever can give me the date of the Battle of Marathon this afternoon will be named class leader." Too bad I don't know the date. I sigh, not too bothered.

Unbeknownst to me, Descamps glares at the back of Applebaum's head and will do so the rest of the day.

××《☆》××

Me and Michèle wait for Simone to come back. She does after a while. We hear fast and light footsteps on the stairs. She sits in between us.

"So, I was right. There's a massive bruise on my thigh." She makes an O shape with her hand. We lean in to see. I make a hissing noise, feeling bad.

"What if I meet the love of my life today? Like tonheston. I see him. He sees me. We fall in love. And then bam. He sees my bruise." Simone fades into her thoughts. I shake my head, chuckling.

"I already told you. I don't think any of those boys are going to be the love of your life. Besides, don't you have a thing for-"

Simone cuts me off by putting a hand on my mouth. She gives me a wide-eyed look, nodding towards Michèle. I realise what could've slipped past my tongue and mouth 'sorry'.

Michèle looks at both of us confused, but before she could say anything, Jean Pierre walks out the school's doors. He looks at Michèle with a glare.

"Are you okay?" Michèle asks worriedly.

"Ask me again after the hearing." Jean Pierre replies coldly. I chill at his tone.

"He'll be fine. You'll see." Jean Pierre's friend reassures Michèle. They walk away.

"Fingers crossed, Jean Pierre. Good luck." Simone calls out. I give her a knowing look, and she gives me a look of desperation. I raise my hands as if to say fine.

I look to the side, and I see Applebaum. I wave to him. He waves back. When I look away, I see him through my peripherals, talking to his friends.

"Do you like him?" Simone asks me.

"I don't know yet." I smile to myself. Maybe this will make school more interesting. I turn my head. There's an eye trained on me, so intense I could feel it. It couldn't have been Applebaum.

I look up, and Descamps is staring, sitting on the bench I saw him on the first day. I squint to see him better. I could've sworn I saw his jaw twitch. I look away.

××《☆》××

"The boys have a locker room, and all we get is the teachers' bathroom." Simone says from inside.

"My brother hates me." Michèle says, mostly to herself, but also to us. I purse my lips in pity.

"Stop it." Simone says in an annoyed tone.

"Really. Even before all this. He's always been pushing me away." Michèle continues even after Simone's reply.

"I witnessed it, Simone. It's true." I say through the door to let Simone hear my voice. Michèle looks at me in thanks. I nod.

Simone opens the door, now clothed in her gym clothes.

"Brothers don't hate their sisters." Simone tells Michèle to reassure her. It doesn't work.

"You're just lucky." Michèle detests.

I walk into the bathroom to change. I try to rush, our gym class starting in a few minutes. My clothes are a bit small, growing out of them since last school year. I adjust it a bit. The shorts are too short, shirt tight, but comfortable enough. I shrug.

I walk out the bathroom. The girls look at me.

"Wow, look at that figure of yours. Let's go before class starts without us." Simone grabs me and Michèle's arms and drags us to the gym.

They continued a conversation I hadn't been in, so I just blocked it out. We walk out the school, boys turning their heads to take a second look.

××《☆》××

"Hiding it draws more attention to it." Michèle tells Simone as Simone tugs at her shorts. I walk in a few steps behind them, entering the gym.

"It's yellow and green with purple spots. It's gross." I cringe at the description.

"No one will see it." Michèle reassures Simone.

"Everyone will see it. These shorts." Simone groans. The boys walk in with their tanktops and shorts.

"Great, you're all wearing navy blue. Maybe if I just stand sideways." Simone shifts her feet. I stand in front of her, covering it with my leg. She smiles at that.

All boys look to their right when Annick walks in. All of them except Applebaum, who keeps his eyes on me. I guess he gained a bit of confidence because he waves and smiles. I wave back and smile, too.

"Guess there's no need to stand sideways after all." Simone says, defeated.

××《☆》××

The boys scatter around, stretching and walking around. The coach commands them to do certain things I didn't care to listen to.

Applebaum walks behind us. I turn and smile.

"Hello, Applebaum." I greet, and he turns rushed from his bended position. His cheeks are flushed. I smile softer, trying to make him less uncomfortable.

Descamps walks into the gym and sees me and Applebaum interacting. He continues to watch. I don't notice him.

"Hi." That's all he says. I nod. Good enough.

"Good luck in there." I tilt my head to the boys, beginning their formation. He smiles.

"Thanks. You, too." He stutters out, placing his glasses on the bleachers hurriedly, almost running away from me.

Simone turns around. "Why is he running away from you? Did you say something? He's so red." She laughs.

"I just greeted him. I don't know why he's so shy." I reply, confusion in both my face and voice. "And he said you too when I said good luck. That doesn't make sense."

Simone laughs louder. When Michèle asks why she's laughing, Simone explains, and now Michèle is laughing, too. I roll my eyes, but a smile finds it way to my face.

Descamps is on the bleachers across from us. I feel a gaze on me. When I follow it, my eyes lock with his. He smirks. I scowl.

Annick raises her hand and calls out for the coach.

"Oh, right." He says. "The girls." A sigh.

××《☆》××

We look at the rope attached to the ceiling. I grimace.

"Climbing? Is he joking?" The three girls shake their head. I sigh.

"Who first?" No one answers.

I glance at the game, wanting to watch the boys play through it. They start to assemble, the game starting. I notice Applebaum moving around weirdly, squinting and turning his head rapidly. He really can't see without those glasses.

He gets hit in the head and falls to the ground. The boys go up to him. My brows crease in worry. In the bleachers, Descamps smiles. It triggers me.

I get up from the mat, the girls asking me where I'm going. I ignore them, rushing up to Applebaum.

"Applebaum, are you okay?" I hiss in pity, a red mark on his forehead.

"Pardine?" Even without his glasses, he still recognises me. That's sweet. I smile.

"Mhm. Are you still good?" He nods at that. I help him up. Out of the corner of my eye, I feel Descamps dark stare on both me and Applebaum. I ignore it.

"Be careful." That's the last thing I say before going back to the girls.

"You so like him." Michèle teases. I smile. I think I'm starting to.

Annick gets on the rope, and Simone holds it still for her.

"She's even good at gym. She's Marilyn Monroe's secret daughter." Simone tells me and Michèle. We laugh.

"No, I swear. She's nothing like us. Did you see her skin? It's perfect. Straight out of Hollywood." Simone says, convincing us that she was serious.

They look to their left. I keep my eyes on Annick and on the game.

"Your brother is looking for you." Simone tells Michèle. Jean Pierre ushers her to him, and both of them go. I replace Simone's position by handling the rope.

Simone comes back after a while, taking her place on the rope again. I sigh. Let's see how long this'll be.

××《☆》××

Annick finishes climbing up the rope. I decided to go next. I grip on the rope and start climbing. When I'm at least five feet away from the ground, my hands shift, and I fumble.

I start to go down, my hand that's still on the rope getting a burn, and the inside of my thigh gets the same injury. Three feet away from the floor, I fall on my back.

The loud thud gets attention from everyone in the gym. Simone and Michèle quickly get to me, asking if I'm okay. I don't respond, my injuries stinging.

I get up after catching my breath. I stand slowly with the support of Michèle. I nod, and she lets me go.

Descamps walks towards us, and I think of something to say. "What do you want now?" I don't look up at him, eyes on the burn on my thigh.

"Coach told me to bring you to the clinic." He says with a sigh.

"Why can't the others do it instead?" I ask him, now looking up and feeling cold sweat. His stare is so dark. His height makes him more intimidating. I don't show my sudden fear.

"Because I'm the only one not in this class. Now quit complaining and come with me." He grabs my arm harshly, but his hold is gentle. I wince anyway. He rubs it gently.

××《☆》××

As we reach the clinic, the nurse is disappointingly not there. Great.

"Sit down." Descamps says, a commanding tone in his voice. I sit on one of the beds.

He grabs a few things from the first aid kit. I look at him in wonder.

"I didn't know you knew how to take care of injur-"

"What the hell was that?" He cuts me off, caging me in with his arms on the bed. He's glaring. He's mad. Why is he mad?

"What?" I ask, clueless. What could he be mad about?

"Your injury. If you weren't so foolish and took care of yourself, you wouldn't have burns on you." He grabs my wrist and puts it up, showing me my own injury. I wince in pain, and something shifts in him. Regret and worry.

"Why do you care so much?" I say, now angry. Something shifts in him again. Annoyance. I whip my wrist from his hands. He grabs it again.

"It doesn't matter why I care. What matters is that you're hurt because 'you' don't care." He squints at me. "Plus, why are you wearing such small clothes? Is it because of Applebaum? Do you care what he thinks? Do you like him?" He furrows his eyebrows.

"He's nice to me. The only boy besides Pichon." He clenches his jaw.

"Pichon, huh? That piggy? Do you like both of them?" He chuckles. "The blind boy and the pig. You have bad taste." He leans in close. Too close. I feel his breath on my face. I glance at his lips, then back up to his eye.

"You call him blind when you only have one eye, and at least Pichon has respect for us girls. Unlike you." I tilt my head, urging him on. He stays quiet for a while. His eye moves from my eyes to my lips.

"Stop being a brat." He says, voice low. He lifts my hand up and blows on my palm. I feel myself relax, my breathing shaky. He still has his eye on me. I look at him. He doesn't look away.

He continues to blow until he has no breath left in him. He takes a disinfectant, spills a few drops of it on cotton, and gently pats it on my burn. I wince. He rubs my hand with his thumb.

"Be careful next time. I don't want to have to take you to the clinic again." He says, voice almost a whisper, but still low that you can see his throat vibrate.

"Trust me. Now I know that it would be you taking care of me, I'll be a lot more careful not to end up here." I whisper, too, feeling tension in the air.

He scoffs. "Didn't I tell you to stop being a brat?" He says a bit harshly, but his touch is still so gentle that you could fall asleep.

I don't say anything back. After he puts antiseptic on my palm, he gently wraps it in gauze. I watch his face. He's entirely focused, there's even worry etched on his brows.

He put my palm down gently. He looks up at me, eye scanning mine as he hovers his hand on my thigh. I nod.

He put his hand down. Both of us let out a breath we didn't know we were holding. He might've thought he hurt me because his hand caresses me gently. Very, very gently. I might pass out from relaxation.

On my inner thigh, there's a small burn. He grabs a cotton with disinfectant and does the same procedure he did on my palm.

Once he finishes, his hand stays on my thigh.

He bites his lip. "Be careful. Remember it." He says, his voice so low I could barely understand what he said. But he was so close, I could even hear the stutter in his breath.

"Okay." I whisper out, my breath moving his hair. The door opens, and the nurse comes in. Descamps steps away from me, and I feel cold. Like winter with no fire. Autumn with no coat. So, yes, it feels very cold.

"Ms. Pardine. Sorry I couldn't tend to you. I was on my break." I shake my head, dismissing it. I get up, and Descamps is suddenly by my side, helping me straighten up. I look at him. He doesn't even glance at me. Instead, he's looking at the wall to his left.

We head out of the clinic. It's break time already. Descamps walks away, disappearing in the tunnel, not even saying goodbye.

I walk towards Michèle and Simone. I sit on the bench, and they look at me worriedly.

"Y/N, are you okay? We've been worried since you left with Descamps. Did he do anything to you?" Simone asks, eyeing my injuries. I purse my lips.

"He only took care of me, surprisingly." I keep my head down. They nod, relaxing. I see Descamps' group of friends walk out the tunnel with Pichon's group just a few feet behind them. They talk, Applebaum's glasses not on his face. I furrow my brows.

"Hey, guys. Can you come with me later to change?" They nod.

I glance back at the boys. Descamps is now talking to Pichon. I start to worry.

"Why does she never talk to us? Celebrities do that. She says she's never been to Hollywood, but who knows?" Simone says, cutting me out of my trance. I already know who she's talking about.

"Maybe she's just introverted?" I say based on my observations. Simone shrugs. She looks to Michèle.

"Are you listening?" Simone asks her. She seems distracted lately. Michèle says yes. I doubt she had her head in the conversation.

"Hearings can take a while. Don't worry." Simone tells Michèle. I nod, feeling pity for her.

"Don't feel bad if he's going through this, Michèle. He just wanted to defend you. That was his choice, you know? He cares." I tell her, placing a hand over hers.

"Have you used the climbing rope a lot?" Michèle asks. Very random, but Simone answers anyway.

"No, why?" She says, smiling confused.

"No reason. Forget it." Me and Simone purse out lips and forget about it. We look around the courtyard. I see Pichon pop out of the tree next to us. I look at him confused. He walks to our bench and starts calling out for Annick.

"You can just talk to her." Simone tells him. Annick walks over to Pichon, and they walk away.

"Do you think he's going to propose?" Simone asks as a joke. I laugh.

"Probably." They laugh, too.

××《☆》××

"So," Ms. Giarud places her coat on her chair. "Who deserves to be class leader?"

Descamps raises his hand, Felbec, too. I look at Descamps confused. How does he know?

"Mr. Felbec. Did you find the date of the Battle of Marathon?" Felbec stands up.

"Fifth century, B.C." Felbec answers.

"Correct. Would you say 'twentieth century' if I asked about the Battle of Verdun?" The class chuckles. Descamps raises his hand again.

"Mr. Descamps. Can you do better?" Ms. Giraud lets him stand.

"Four hundred ninety B.C." Impressed noises come from our class. I raise my eyebrows.

"Congratulations, Descamps. That's very impressive." It is impressive. Very.

"Can you tell me where you found the date?" This is where I have a feeling he doesn't know. I'm right. But he plays it off.

"In our book." Wrong answer, Descamps. I smile slyly.

"Surprising. The Persian Wars aren't part of the curriculum." Busted.

"Maybe it was another book. I don't remember." He's bad at playing this off. I sigh. Too bad for him.

"Already? If you've already forgotten something that happened today, how will you remember anything when you get your diploma?" Ms. Giraud says matter-of-factly.

"I gave him the date." Pichon says, standing up. That's how Descamps knows. That's what they were talking about earlier. Ms. Giraud lets Pichon continue.

"Four hundred ninety B.C. is in the manual on Ancient Greece." Pichon answers her.

"And I know that because..." He trails off and looks to the side. "I read it in the book."

"Why did you give the answer to Descamps?" Ms. Giraud asks him.

"I wasn't sure I could do it." He fumbles with his hands. "Being class leader, ma'am."

"There are worse faults than humility. Certain students, boys and girls, should remember that." Ms. Giraud says, fingertips balancing her on her table.

"Pichon, you are our class leader." Tension as sharp as a knife spreads around the classroom. I shift in my seat, uncomfortable in the silence. Good luck with them.

××《☆》××

"Should I iron Laubrac's jacket before I give it back?" Michèle smiles as she asks us.

"I knew you liked him. I totally called it." I say in triumph. They laugh. Michèle suddenly gasps.

"I forgot my cardigan." Michèle remembers, the smile on her face dropping.

"Go ahead. I have errands to run." Simone says. We all bid each other goodbye and part ways.

As I walk to my flat, a hand grabs my arm and covers my mouth. I prepare to scream, but stop midway when I see Descamps' face. I push him away.

"What was that for?" I shout angrily at him. He puts a finger to his lips, shushing me.

"You're too loud. Do you want to get caught?" He steps closer.

"Get caught doing wha-" He covers my mouth again, and I lick it. He pulls away, disgusted.

"Ew, why would you do that?" He wipes his hand on my shirt. I move away from him.

"Stop covering my mouth." I whisper-shout at him. We stand there, silent, his hand staying on my arm. I see him gulp, his adams apple bobbing up and down.

Our breaths are heavy. It's the only thing we hear. He walks a bit closer to me. I look up, his height getting taller.

"What do you want, Descamps?" I ask him, whispering. He doesn't say anything yet, eye focused on me. He drops his head.

"A warning." He says, his voice breaking a bit.

"What?" What does he mean by a warning?

"He got off with a warning." Oh. Jean Pierre.

"It's not fair. He took my eye out." I don't know why he's talking to me about this, but I feel pity anyway.

"Descamps-" I cut myself off when his arms wrap around my waist and his head tucks itself into my neck.

My hands absentmindedly go up to rub his back. I whisper confort into his ear. He isn't crying. He's just standing slumped, absorbing my warmth. I let him.

He suddenly pulls away, some sort of fear in his eyes. He runs out of the alley, and I'm left alone.

I decided after a while that I should start walking back home. He stays in mind the rest of the night. Even in my dreams, he lingers. His touch, his scent, his breath. And I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter two: My eye only

Next- Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say

××《☆》××

End of chapter two. I think this is longer than the first because i added more additional scenes so the joseph and the reader can interact. The enemies to lovers are really coming into place in this. Applebaum is a sweetheart, but for those who loved him here, sad to say, this will only be a one-time thing. Unless i change my mind in the future. Hope you guys liked it and again, leave a comment or dm me for recommendations. Thanks for reading!!!

#joseph descamps x reader #joseph descamps #mixte1963 #michèle magnan #simone palladino #jean pierre magnan #alain laubrac #enemies to lovers #reader insert #fanfic #x reader #slow burn

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izzuku · 2 years

Text

DON'T BE FOOLED BY THE SILHOUETTE ── ʚ

summary- tighnari tries to fight his own rut for your own sake but fails miserably the moment you two are alone after dealing with some hydro fungi

characters- tighnari x gn reader

c/w- tighnari in heat, creampie, nsfw, overstimulation, oral sex, mating press position, semi-public sex(? (overall just nsfw) not proofread!

The work was done for the night. You checked every plant, every mushroom, every tree and part of the forest along Tignari throughout the day and when the moment of going back home came, problems appeared. It wasn't anything that you two couldn't handle, it's just that you were too tired and falling asleep on your comfy bed was the only thing pushing you to end the day. Apparently on your way home, while chatting with a really... awkward Tignari you encountered a group of hydro fungi next to the bridge that would lead you back safely.

You had also noticed that today, of all days, Tignari was more reserved and distant. You asked him a couple of times if he was alright of if he needed to chat but he bat it away with a "just some notes about the flora that I need to memorize, nothing to worry about" even though you could clearly see him wagging his tail every time you directed your voice to him. A slight tint of blush on his features, deep inhales when your body got closer to him and a look on his eyes that you would categorize as "predatory" made you think otherwise. And then, the hydro fungi accident occurred. As said, it wasn't hard to get rid of them, you were experienced with monsters of this type and the forest ranger was also used to encounter tons of different creatures like this. But what really pissed you off was when one of those bitches hit you with its bubble spit, soaking your clothes and leaving you wet before turning into ash.

“Ah, fucking great. Now I gotta go home soaking wet” you cursed under your breath so the botanist would not lecture you about language. But for your surprise, he wasn't even paying attention. He was so caught up in your silhouette, your curves and the clothes hugging your figure that he didn't noticed. His tail started moving sideways and he brought his own hand to his face.

"I cannot control myself anymore. I'm going to break if I don't do this". He thought, closing the space in between the both of you, gloved hands grabbing you by your waist and head falling on your neck, filling his lungs with your scent.

"Tig...nari? What are you-"

"I'm... In heat. I'm awfully ashamed to say it out loud but you're driving me crazy and I cannot wait any longer". His lips grace your skin, leaving short licks before sucking at it, creating red marks and bites that screamed 'mine' in his head. You were his. You were going to be his until he was done with you. Not that you cared about spending everyday with him.

Laying you down on a big leaf he started roaming your body, panting and muttering how good you smelled, your wet clothes now on the ground while he grinded his clothed erection against your sex, earning a surprised gasp from you along with a tug on his head.

If it was embarrassing to be doing that kind of stuff in the middle of the forest, why was it so amazing? The way your moans only fuelled him to go deeper into you, his fast pace breaking your mind and the multiple rounds leaving you with a sore throat. His cum would not stop dropping from your hole, he needed to breed you good, he couldn't be satisfied until he emptied himself in you. Not only that, your legs were pressed against yourself, gifting him with a stunning view of you. All fucked, cum dripping down your thighs and a sweet little voice asking for more.

“That's my love...I'll give you more and then we can go back home” he ushers you softly, pulling his cock back in again, making your head spin around like a love sick. And, as the gentleman he is, he'd clean everything up after. There's nothing more satisfying than licking all of your and his cum from you. Your already overestimulated sex can barely handle his tongue. But he's just helping, really! but he's also a tease. His eyes search your gaze when his tongue penetrates you for a moment, looking for another flinch or another tired moan. If he can't get a reaction from you he'll do it again, maybe even until you cum again for the nth time.

“You looked so good with my seed in you that I couldn't resist tasting you...”

#gn reader #izzuku #genshin imagines #genshin impact x reader #genshin smut #genshin impact tighnari #tighnari x gn reader #tighnari smut

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yamujiburo · 7 months

Note

The longer ideas (which I may or may not do):

Prof Oak reassures Delia that Seviper is a tame submissive snek and then immediately provokes it into attacking him (actually that would make a cute comic, you can have it if you like)

(Early relationship) Delia finds out Jessie made James trade Victreebel away and it causes a fight between the two girlfriends

Ash needs to learn how to shave but Jessie can't teach him, cue her searching for someone who can while also worrying about parenthood in general (working on this between other projects)

Prof Oak's Charizard, who he's had since boyhood (see Celebi Voice of the Forest) is dying and Jessie has to navigate that situation (end of life care, funeral/disposal arrangements) as a Pokémon nurse

The others are shippy/nsfw/drifting further from the established canon of your AU so I'm leaving them out haha. I'm working on three things at once right now. But this really is a rich little AU and very inspiring.

I may just do that, that's hilarious

Ooooh you've mentioned that one to me before! Love that idea. I feel like I never really shown the two of them fighting. I feel like I'm so bad at writing a good argument

AWWWWW. "Stressed out, doing her best" Jessie is my favorite Jessie

OH NOOOOO SADDDDD BUT I LOVEEEEE

I'll poke you about the other ideas too bc I'm curious hehehe. And right?? This ship has so much potential!!!!

#ask yam

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sthnearlyheadless · 7 months

Text

Sofia

Jenna Ortega x Fem!Reader y'all i'm lazy. i don't fell like making a summary. and as always, i didn't proofread, if there's any mistakes, i apologize. Warnings: nothing but kisses and mentions of fights, i think

"I can’t believe you”

“What, you can’t believe me? Are you fucking serious, Jenna?” You responded watching the small women taking off her expensive shoes angrily. Jenna’s eyes glaring at you, almost throwing knives at you.

“I was having fun, Y/N. Why do you had to make such a scene? I though I was the actress here, but you deserved an Oscar for that, I have to admit”

You followed her to the kitchen as soon as you finished locking the front door of the house that you both shared.

“I can’t believe you’re seriously pissed at me for protecting you. What the hell is your problem, man? That douchebag was trying to touch you! You wanted me to sit there and just watch it?!”

“Don’t yell at me, Y/N!” Jenna pointed at you and you took a step back immediately as she took one forward. You see, you guys height difference was very noticeable, but Jenna’s anger was something that always scared you a little. You never wanted push your luck with the Latina woman so much. Even though you knew each other basically your entire life since you are childhood friends that recently started to live together, you never saw this look on her eyes before.

“I could’ve handled myself just fine. It was an event, Y/N. There was cameras everywhere! You didn’t have to punch him in the face and start a fucking fight!”

Well, thinking for this side… Jenna’s was kind of right. But you couldn’t help yourself when you noticed that she was uncomfortable and had - a lot of times - told that stupid guy to leave her alone and he obviously didn’t listen and worse, tried to force her to go to somewhere, you lost all your reasoning.

“And look at your face. It’s all bruised up” she continued resting the glass of water on the sink and looking at you. You looked away, ashed. You realized now that you might have caused problems to her. You know, the fight was recorded for sure, and people will definitely talk about this on the Internet. You never wanted to harm Jenna in any kind of way, but you might have now. You just wanted to protect the girl you loved… and not only in a friendly way. You’ve noticed your feelings for Jenna when you guys were about 18. You were 21 now. Since then you had dated some other girls for a while and watched her date some other people too, but your heart was and still is entirely hers… even though she never noticed and you don’t have the guts to say it.

You probably never will.

“You should see the other guy” you said in a low voice, still not looking at you.

It was Jenna’s turn to let out a tired sigh. She decided to walk towards you again, not in a menacing posture anymore. She didn’t wanna fight anymore. The discussion all the way back home and now was tiring enough, that and the fact that she didn’t stop get worried for you. Not in one single second.

And now that the bruises were more noticeable, she worried more. Her anger quickly slowing down.

“Sit there. I’m gonna take care of this” she pointed at the couch.

“Jenna, you don’t have to that. I’m fine and…”

“Don’t argue with me, Y/N. I’m tired. Just do it, okay?” she let out a sigh looking deep in your eyes. Like always, you couldn’t deny her.

You sat down on the couch like Jenna said so and waited. Playing with your fingers thinking about how stupid you were. You let Jenna down, you probably caused trouble on her career and if you ever dreamed on having a chance with her, you could totally forget about it now. She would never see you in a different way. You always going to be the trouble girl that Jenna had to step in to not get in more trouble.

“This is gonna sting a little” she announced as she already had put the medicine on the cotton and put the first aid kit on the floor. She sat really close to you and started to rub the cotton on the bruised parts. You watched her face so close to yours as her intense brown eyes looking carefully at your face.

“Ouch! Jenna, easy!” you tried to back off, only to Jenna grab your jaw. Not in a rush way, but strong enough to keep you still. “Geez, Jen, c’mon!” you cried out.

“Stop being a baby. You should’ve thought about before getting into a fight. Again”

You grimaced before answering:

“I don’t mind being hurt, Jenna. As long as defending you”

Jenna sighed. For the hundredth time. She did that a lot when she was mad. She finally stopped applying medicine on your bruises and you thanked all the gods you knew for that. Although the look on her face scared you, you didn’t know what to think. You knew Jenna your entire life, but even for you was hard to read her face. Her perfect and beautiful features.

“You’re never gonna change, are you, Y/N?”

“If by that you mean protecting you, no, I’m not”

“Even if you get hurt like that?” she pointed at your face and hands. “You’re crazy, Y/N”

“I told I don’t care! What can’t you get that?”

“I can’t understand why you always get in the middle of something that involves me!” she stood up, starting to raise her voice as well. “I mean I know that you’re my best friend, but act like…”

“Like what?” you pushed, speaking low, but standing up too.

“Like… like your jealous” she said at last. Like she was unsure of what she just said out loud. Even though she was sensing it for a little while, she, just like you, didn’t say things out loud sometimes. You were alike in this way.

“Say something, Y/N” Jenna crossed her arms in front of her chest.

“What you want me to say, Jenna?” you looked at the floor.

“Anything, Y/N! Anything!” you looked at her again with this burst of her. “What’s really going on with you? You know you can tell me anything”

“I love you”

“Um… Y/N, I-I love you too, you know that… but what this…”

“No. Not like that!” You stepped back and sat defeated sat on the couch, looking up to the small woman who looked puzzled by you right now.

“I don’t just love you in a friendly way. My feelings for changed since I was 18. I can tell it’s love because it didn’t fade nor has diminished. I never felt this for anyone in my life, Jenna, I love every single detail about you and everything you do. I love how you’re passionate about the things you love, your career, your family. How dedicate you are… I love you”

Jenna didn’t say anything. She was… totally mute. And that was scared you the most. You could’ve expected her to say anything, literally anything, Jenna always have something to say. But now, now that you finally have spilled your true feelings locked inside you for so many years… you have silence as response.

And Jenna looking blankly back at you.

“I know you don’t feel the same, I-I… don’t worry. I’m gonna crush at someone’s house tonight. After that I can come and get my stuff” You said, trying your best to hold back your tears. “We don’t have to stay in this awkwardness between us and…”

“Shut up”

“What?”

“Just…” Jenna took a step in front of you and grabbed your face carefully and softly to not hurt you and then she closed the gap between your faces.

You did not think, you couldn’t. Her soft lips were magical, and you couldn’t think of anything anymore. The lips that were only in our imagination, tasted even better that your head could possibly project.

Her tongue asked for space inside your mouth and you more than happy allowed her dominance on the kiss. Your hands, a little bit shamefully, rested on her hips. You both moaning tasting each other.

When the air was really necessary, Jenna pulled away and rested her forehead on your. Your eyes were still closed and you looked like a pure bliss as you still hold her. Jenna smiled chuckled softly looking at your face, her soft dimples showing a bit as you guys were so close now.

“You’re an idiot, you know that?” Jenna caressed the baby hair on the back of your neck.

“I know. You keep saying that since we were kids”

Jenna laughed and you finally open your eyes.

“But I mean it, Jenna. I really love you”

“Why you never said anything?”

“I was scared”

“Of me?”

“Of you hating me… I don’t know, okay! This stuff is complicated, alright?”

Jenna chuckled and shook her head looking at you.

“I love that fact that you just said one of the most beautiful I’ve ever heard and you can’t explain how chicken you were”

“Hey!”

“It’s okay. I love you the you are anyways”

“You… what? You l-love or you’re just saying this because…”

“I told you to shut up, didn’t I?” Jenna kissed you once again. “It’s okay that you had chickend out. I loved you too since I was 15”

#jenna ortega x fem!reader #jenna ortega #jenna ortega x you #jenna ortega x y/n #wednesday addams x reader #jenna marie ortega #tara carpenter x you #tara carpenter x reader #jenna ortega x reader

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schemmentigfs · 4 months

Text

Future Milf, part two.

part one!

paring: melissa schemmenti x reader.

summary: after the incident in the teacher's lounge, you start to avoid melissa who is willing to know what happened and trying to get things back to normal.

warnings: just a little angst but trust me, we have a happy ending!

author notes: This is a little rushed, but I hope you all enjoy this second part 🤍 I also wanted to thank the beautiful people who are sending requests for Mel, they are amazing and i'm already working on them! And don't worry, feel free to send any idea that comes to mind. It will be an honor for me to turn them into reality.

tags: @esposadejoyhuerta @gweninred @moistblobfish

English is not my first language, so I apologize for any mistakes!

The truth was that Melissa was completely disoriented, her brain trying to process what had happened in the last seven minutes. You acting like that and apologizing, leaving the room as quickly as possible made her worried as hell.

All she wanted was to comfort you and know what was really happening. There were a lot of doubts in her mind, to be honest. Had she done something? Or said something? The way you couldn't look into her green eyes was so strange..

Everything between you two was great until today, and then it all suddenly fell apart at lunchtime? That made her feel a little paranoid.

“Melissa, are you well? Are you hurt?” Barb asks.

“I don't know,” she said, staring into nothing, worrying her friends, “I just need to check on her.” The redhead gets up and runs to start looking for you.

“MELISSA! WAIT!” the entire Abbott crew screams, but she completely ignores it.

She stops in front of your classroom and notices that the door is locked. The lights are off, but Melissa knows you're in there.

“Sweetheart, please let me in,” she knocks gently, “I am not mad with ya. Don't worry about it, I just want to know how you are.” The older woman adds, almost begging for you to open the door.

Locked inside your classroom, you were sitting on the floor. Curled up hugging your knees, trying to find some comfort while crying. The whole situation was so fucking stupid, of course. But it still left you overwhelmed and on the verge of an anxiety attack.

So lending Melissa the future milf t-shirt made you completely lose your mind? Wow, you really were a stupid person. Stupid. That word stuck in your brain and made you cry even more.

Hearing your quiet sobs made the redhead's heart break into pieces. The thought of her doing something that made you hurt was utterly painful. The truth was that Melissa would blame herself for the rest of her life if she had made you feel bad in any way.

“Hon, c'mon. Let me—” she started.

“Don't. Melissa, please. Just go away, I need to be alone,” you interrupt her, hoping she would understand that you didn't have the strength to say anything else.

Before walking away, she whispers loud enough for you to hear. “If you need anything, you know where to find me. But please, promise me you'll be okay.” The redhead said trying to wipe away the small tears that threatened to fall from her face.

“I'll be fine. Now go.” You growl, unaware that your words have fully gotten to her.

—

It had been a while since Melissa changed her mood so quickly. She had learned to control her emotions, thanks to you, who helped her notice that it was okay to show them from time to time and it wasn't shameful at all. But at that moment everything seemed useless.

Her legs were shaking slightly and she kept tapping her fingers on the desk, while trying to focus on correcting some of the children's homeworks. It was clear that Melissa was almost having a huge panic attack.

Ashely, who was now scrolling through her cell phone boredly after making sure the students were doing their activities calmly and in silence, noticed the sudden change in the redhead and her eyebrows raised in confusion.

“What’s the matter, boss? You seem a little quiet since lunch time. Which is strange ‘cause earlier you were all excited and—”

The older woman rolls her eyes. “Nothing happened. I'm fine,” she responds, clenching her teeth, “everything is ok, kid.”

“Are you sure? I know we’re not that close, but if you need to vent, I’m all ears.” The girl shrugs.

Melissa's eyes widen, her aide was really willing to give her some advice? Normally, Ashley didn't tend to be very serious. When she tried to help, the girl always ended up saying things that were a bit nonsense. But this time, she was here ready to be a shoulder to lean on.

“Y/n..” she started but quickly corrected herself, not quite ready to confide the crush she had on you to anyone else than Barbara. “Today, a strange thing happened between me and a friend that honestly left me completely confused.”

“Oh. Do you have any idea what might have happened?”

Melissa stops for a moment, trying to get her head to work and think of a reason that could explain what had happened between the two of you.

“I-I can't explain it properly...everything was normal between us and when lunch time came...” the teacher stuttered, “she could barely look at me and when I told her to act like a real adult and tell me what was happening, she panicked and ran away.”

“After that you were able to talk to her?”

“Kinda, but she told me to leave her alone.”

Ashley gives her a pitying look, she knew who Melissa was referring to. Anyone who works at Abbott would know. “I'm sorry this happened boss, but I'm sure things will get better between you and her. Just give her a little time.”

Melissa nodded and smiled. “Thanks for the advice, hon.”

“Anytime boss, anytime.”

—

Changing my life with the wave of her hand.

Nobody can deny that there's something there.

There.

Running my hands through her hair.

Both of us thinking how good it can be.

Someone is speaking, but she doesn't know he's there.

The melody of Here, There And Everywhere by The Beatles echoed throughout the kitchen directly from the small radio on the balcony, while Melissa prepared dinner.

This was one of the many songs she always wanted to dedicate to you, the redhead dreamed of dancing with her arms around you, after a busy day at school while this song played. Just the two of you, enjoying each other's company.

Was it quite cliché? Of course it was, even for the one and only Melissa Schemmenti. But to be honest, she didn't care how it sounded.

The older woman was so in love with you that she thought of endless romantic scenarios every day. After what happened today, every one of them seemed distant. But she still had a simple hope within her.

“Watching her eyes, and hoping I'm always there,” she sings passionately, while cutting the tomatoes perfectly, “I want her everywhere, and if she is beside me. I know I need never care, but to love her is to need her everywhere.” Melissa closes her eyes for a moment, thinking about you.

On the way out, she looked for you in the Abbott parking lot but was unsuccessful, she was waiting for a message from you, saying that you had arrived home safely like you always did.

But you didn't send her anything.

A feeling ran through her body. It was as if the redhead was losing the most precious thing in her life. Desperate, Melissa picked up her cellphone that was leaning on the living room table and went to check on you. Screw the advice Ashely gave earlier, she couldn't wait anymore.

Hon, are you feeling better? I hope so. By the way, did you manage to get home safely?

Sorry if I sound desperate, but I need to know if things are ok.

Y/n? Please answer me.

Her heart breaks into pieces when she sees that you just viewed the message and didn't even make the effort to reply back. For fuck’s sake, what had she done that was so serious? Nothing made sense anymore.

Just a few blocks away, you were lying on the couch and drinking an entire bottle of vodka, pretending like you didn't care about not responding to Melissa's messages. It was immature, but it seemed to make sense to you. Since this whole milf situation was a complete disaster, ignoring her seemed right.

Of course, inside you felt like a monster, knowing that the redhead didn't deserve this. But what you could do?

“I’m ready to open another bottle and listen to a two-hour-plus loop of Chamber of Reflection,” you say, making Ava sigh.

The principal had stopped by your house hours ago to check on you and when she saw the miserable state you were in, she decided to stay there for a while. And tried to comfort you (in the most Ava Coleman way possible.)

“Y/N. Come on, you can't act like Schemmenti doesn't exist. If you keep doing that, she'll soon break into your place to find out what's going on,” she comments, “just like an episode of a soap opera where the greatest absurdities happen in an exactly dramatic way.” Ava finished her sentence while painting her nails a shade of red. The act catching your attention.

Red. It reminded you of Melissa.

Yeah, this was being harder than it seemed.

“Shut up, she won't come after me,” you said it like it was just another one of the stupid things Ava used to say.

“Yes, she will. And y’know that very well.”

—

The next day, Melissa sat with her arms crossed at the table she shared with Barb and you. The redhead stared at the small tupperware in front of her, last night she made what she knew was your favorite dish: pancakes. She was anxiously waiting for you to show up in the break room, but that didn't happen.

Keep calm, Schemmenti. She will appear soon. She won't ignore you.

“Dear..” the kindergarten teacher whispers and she snorts, trying to change the subject, disguising how tense she was.

“What’s so interesting out there?” Melissa asks as she notices Janine, Gregory and Jacob looking at each other with strange expressions after spying in the window.

“Nothing.” Jacob is the first to respond and the couple agrees with him, swearing that there was nothing interesting outside.

She laughs humorlessly, the history teacher simply didn't know how to lie.

“C'mon, kiddo. You guys look like you've seen a ghost.” The redhead gets up from the table and approaches the three, squinting to see anything out of the ordinary and when she does. Her breathing hitches.

On the sidewalk, there were you and another teacher, who she recognized as the art teacher. The woman was happily chatting with you and leaning too close to Melissa's chagrin.

Ms. Evans was know for her big crush on you, she was always fighting with the redhead to have your attention. And now that Melissa was being ignored by you, this bitch thought she could have you all to herself? No way.

“YOU GOTTA BE FUCKING KIDDING ME!” she yelled coming down to get some satisfaction from you.

The sound of angry footsteps caught your attention, it was clearly that they belong to who you had been avoiding since yesterday, Melissa.

The wish was for the redhead to pass straight by without noticing your presence there. But instead, she approached and with a certain force grabbed you by the arm, taking you to one of the far corners of the building.

“Melissa! What the fuck?” you said.

“So while I was worried to death there in the staff room because you didn't talked to me since yesterday, you were here talking normally to that idiot!” the older woman's tone was altered, you could clearly hear the jealousy in her voice, “Had fun with your new best friend?”

“She’s not my best friend. We were just talking,” the nonsensical accusation makes you roll your eyes, letting out a mocking chuckle. “Melissa, stop acting like that!” you shout and she loses her temper even more.

“You suddenly act like a bitch and I’m the one to blame? What the fuck is wrong with you, Y/n?” she growls, fire in her green eyes.

“I dunno, a lot of things I suppose,” you retort coldly.

Melissa sighs when she realizes how tough she was. “Look, I don’t want to be an idiot. But please tell me what I did, so I can fix it.”

“We have nothing to fix between us, Schemmenti.”

“What? Are you really going to ignore it and pretend like none of this is happening?” The redhead asked in disbelief.

“Trust me. It’s better this way, for both of us,” you mumble, walking away from her, leaving an upset Melissa behind.

—

After the ‘argument’ on Tuesday, Melissa and you barely crossed paths at Abbott. And when you bumped into each other in the hallway, both grumbled and went back to your own ways.

The redhead and you were fighting the need to put the damned pride aside and throw yourselfs into each other's arms, and finally apologizing. But you were too stubborn for that and it was fucking complicated.

“This is stupid! Can you believe that Y/n started going to that coffee shop that's just a few blocks away from here just so she wouldn't have to face me at lunch? This whole thing is starting to irritate me.” Melissa tells to her best friend one morning.

“I understand that this situation is complicated, but don’t you think that both of you are exaggerating?” Barb asked carefully. Even she couldn't handle this situation anymore, it was disappointing to have to see you and Melissa acting like two children.

Ava who was listening to the conversation cautiously, decided to interrupt. “Schemmenti, haven’t you put the pieces together yet? Unbelievable.” She said as if it was something of small importance, making the redhead's eyebrows raise in confusion.

“Huh?”

“It’s so simple, I thought you already figured it all out,” the principal continues in a mysterious tone, making Melissa's head spin, “If it weren’t for this bullshit, you and Y/n would already be like two rabbits jumping on top of each other, if you know what I mean.”

The last comment makes Barb choke on her tea. “Ava, could you not be so specific about this? We’re in a school!” she scolds her.

“Whatever! It’s past time for her to know that Y/n likes her too. Even Janine and Gregory acted better than that!”

Everything around Melissa seemed to have gone silent. So was it true, the feelings were also reciprocal. A lot of questions surrounded her mind, why didn't you say anything? Why did you decide to pretend you weren't in love with her? Were you afraid of not being reciprocated?

“Why is she avoiding me then?” the redhead asks out loud, “that’s making me lose my mind. I just miss her.”

“Because of the t-shirt she lend ya. Mainly ‘cause of the last word printed on it.” That's all Ava says at that moment.

“A milf?” Melissa questions, still confused trying to think of putting the pieces together. “What does that mean? Is it something bad?”

“I was going to suggest you to google the meaning, but since you look like you're about to have a heart attack, I will tell ya,” she laughs and the redhead rolls her eyes, showing Ava her middle finger, “but don't be scared, it's a good thing, actually.”

“Alright..” the green-eyed woman whispers, still afraid of the answer, “so what does this whole milf thing means?”

“Mother I'd Like To Fuck. It also means that an older woman is super attractive.”

Melissa was left open-mouthed, her eyes blinking trying to process the explanation. So that was the damn meaning, well, she had to admit that was hot. “Wait... so Y/n..” she starts but there is a pause.

“Is in love with you and was scared when she saw ya wearing that t-shirt looking extremely hot, and preferred to stay away in case you found out what she felt.” Ava reveals it like it's the most obvious thing in the world, “What are you waiting for? Go find your girl, Schemmenti.”

—

Time passed slowly to Melissa's disgust and despair, making the poor woman sigh feeling defeated. As each second passed, she glanced quickly at the clock on her classroom wall, waiting for the afternoon to end.

After her students left, and the school day was finally over. She drove to your house — without caring about traffic regulations and rules — nothing else really mattered, she just needed to see you.

Sitting on the floor, while assembling a Lego set that simulated a beautiful bouquet of flowers — a gift you received from Janine and Gregory days ago, a lovely attempt by the couple to cheer you up — the sound of the doorbell ringing caught your attention. Making you stop your movements.

You furrowed your eyebrow in confusion, who could it be? Most of your friends were at different appointments at that time. So it certainly wasn't one of them.

“I'm almost coming! I just hope you’re not a stupid lunatic or some other ,” you grumbled, standing up as the sounds of the doorbell seemed more desperate with each passing second.

You opened the door and found Melissa standing there with her arms crossed, shivering slightly from the storm. “Hon, it’s so good to see you again.” She murmurs with a weak smile. Without caring if her voice sounds too desperate.

“Mel, what are you doing here? You might catch a damn cold like that.” You scolded her, pulling her into the house and locking the door again.

“I don’t care about that, I needed to see you. Actually we have to talk.” She responds taking off the black leather jacket that covered her body and hanging it where you kept your coats.

“We have to?” There is a little hesitation in the tone of your voice, all that courage and confidence have disappeared from your body. Insecurity taking over.

“Yeah, hon. We do.” She replied, noticing your nervousness, Melissa tries to comfort you, placing her hand on your shoulder and stroking it lovingly, showing that everything was fine. You smile for the first time in days in the presence of your beloved redhead.

She takes you to the small white sofa that was in the middle of the living room. “I know you were avoiding me because of that shirt. And I know you're in love with me.”

“What? Fuck, how did you figure all this out?” you whisper in panic, covering your face with your hands. Feeling vulnerable at the mercy of the red-haired figure sitting next to you.

A silence fell in the room, making you feel even more embarrassed.

“Ava told me those things earlier today. Hon, why didn't you tell me anything? That would have made everything so much easier.”

“What do you mean by making things easier? I don't understand.”

“I'm love with you too, idiot. I just didn't say before ‘cause I was insecure as fuck. But now, I know exactly what I want: you. No one else, just you.” She confessed with a smile on her face.

Automatically your body falls even more on the couch and you feel slightly dizzy. Closing your eyes slowly, trying to regain consciousness. “Sorry, I'm a bit nervous,” you respond. “It's too much to process. Jesus Christ.”

“Don’t be nervous, it’s me. Just me,” Melissa pulls you into her lap sighing as she smells your lavender scent again. “I'm sorry if I acted like a bitch the last few days. It was not necessary.”

“It was never your fault, I was the real bitch. You didn’t deserve to go through this just because of an irresponsible attitude of mine,” you say, resting your foreheads together.

“I think it's fair to say that we overreacted a bit,” the older woman smiles with her eyes closed. Feeling a slight courage run through her body, she asks you something. “Sweetheart?”

“Yeah?”

“Can I kiss you?” Melissa asks biting her lip and slowly approaching, “I wanna do this since New Year's Eve.”

“Yes, please, Mel.” You beg wrapping your arms around her neck.

The moment her lips touched yours, it felt like you were in heaven. Melissa's lips were soft against yours. The kiss was calm and peaceful, both wanting to show all the love you felt for each other.

“You know, being considered a milf is an honor for me.” Melissa scoffs with a mischievous smile as you pull away from the kiss.

“Shut up.” You chuckle, cupping her cheeks.

“Make me,” the redhead teases, “please.”

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti x you #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #wlw

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