#time bending in progress: ic | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

janeyseymour · 2 years ago

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Bridge Over Troubled Water

Request by: @iloveyall-18

Summary: You're Melissa's aide, and she's working you to the point where you think you might have to quit.

WC: ~7.3k

Ashley got fired. Or... Melissa threatened that if she ever came back, she would wish she hadn’t. Either way, the aide wasn’t coming back, and the redhead was back to teaching two separate grades on her own... not that she wasn’t doing that before, but now it's official. She’s back to being on her own.

“I don’t need another aide!” the teacher huffs at the principal. “I do just fine on my own, and I swear to you... if that little-” she cuts herself off before threatening Ava, “If Ashley comes back to me, I will retire early and leave you to handle two separate grades in one classroom.”

“You won’t!” Ava challenges.

“You wanna put money on it?” Melissa spits right back. She storms out of the room, not bending her knees and clearly very angry. Anybody could see that. What they don’t see is the absolute mess that her former aide had left for her.

The room was currently in shambles. The progress monitoring papers weren’t organized in the slightest, the decorations were randomly hung with no sense of order or reason at all, half the desks were out of sorts, and the kids were still singing that stupid body song that Ashley had taught them while pounding on their desks. She still had to finish doing reading benchmarks with her third grade- or maybe it was second grade? Melissa has no idea at this point- all she knows is she’s about two seconds from taking a bat to her filing cabinet to get out her rage.

“Alright!” she shouts into the room, her voice booming. Almost instantly, the kids stop. She takes a deep breath. “Okay, my little eagles. We’re taking quiet time a little early today so... So Ms. Schemmenti can get this place in order.”

A few of her kids help her organize the desks while Melissa does her best to organize the progress monitoring papers, as well as the other papers she kept on file for each kid. It doesn’t go well- she keeps confusing which students are in second grade and which students are in third grade. It doesn’t help that she has a few sets of siblings, and she had most of her third graders last year as second graders. She eventually just gives up.

“Line up,” the woman sighs in defeat. “We’re going outside.”

“Extra recess?” Maddie, one of the second graders, asks hopefully.

“Yeah, hon,” the redhead smiles down at him gently. “Ms. Schemmenti needs some fresh air, and hopefully a walk around the block if Ms. Teagues is outside too.”

“Do you think you need a hug?” the little girl asks. “Sometimes when I’m frustrated and need fresh air, I need a hug too.”

The teacher’s heart nearly melts. “Yeah, kiddo,” she says softly. “I think Ms. Schemmenti could use a Maddie hug.”

The second grader embraces her teacher for a few seconds before pulling away. “Feel a little better?” she asks hopefully.

“I do, sweetheart,” Melissa promises. “Thank you.”

As the combined second and third grade class makes their way down the hall, they stop at Janine’s room. “We’re goin’ outside. You comin’?”

“O-oh, yeah,” Janine looks shocked. “Yeah, we’ll be out in a few minutes.”

Melissa smirks to herself. “Alright, kid. Don’t be too long now.” It was looking like she was going to get her walk around the block that she had hoped for... and maybe a water ice or a hoagie from Wawa to cheer her up even more.

That was a few days ago. Melissa was floundering with the two grades again. She hates to admit it, but Ashley had some sort of way with the kids that could keep them occupied while she handled the bulk of it. And even if she wasn’t usually helpful, having some sort of distraction so she could focus was useful.

“Okay,” she storms into Ava’s office. “So many I could use an aide, but I swear to God, it better not be-”

“Melissa,” Ava cuts her off in an oddly serious tone. “I’m in an interview.” Only then does the redhead stop her tangent. She looks at the chair across from Ava, and there you are. You’re terrified of this woman to be quite frank- just storming into the room and knowing exactly what she wants. And she’s... wow. She’s really pretty. And the way that her- get your head out of the gutter.

“Oh, I’m sorry,” Melissa fumbles her words. She’s too busy looking at you too, not that she would admit that to anyone. “We’ll talk late-”

“Well, Ms. Schemmenti,” the principal laughs. “Because I am such a great owner of this school, I decided to take initiative and find you a replacement aide after you so... rudely... let Ashley go. This is Y/N. She’ll be your new aide.”

You bite your lip. You have no idea how you’re going to work with her when you already have the hots for her. “Hi,” you say shyly and stick your hand out.

She shakes it. “Schemmenti. Melissa. Let’s get goin. I gotta pick the kids up, and then I need to finish their reading checks, so you can just hang back for the afternoon and observe and get to know the little monsters.”

You hesitate to move, and she glares at you. “C’mon, what's the matter with you? You need a special invitation?” She shakes her head, clearly not approving you, and stalks down the halls. You sigh, grab your bag, thank Ava quietly, and head towards your assigned teacher. You easily fall into step with her.

She collects the kids from music room and directs the line leader to take them all the way down to the classroom. Once the kids are settled in their seats, Melissa allows them to grab their snacks from their bags before she turns on a read aloud from Storyline Online- one of your favorite websites to use with the kids. She notices that you’re still standing awkwardly just inside of the door.

“C’mere,” she rolls her eyes. You quickly go to her desk. “Yes, Ms. Schemmenti?”

“First off,” she huffs. “It’s Melissa. Ain’t no need to be formal with me, you got that?” you nod. “Second, that back table is your new desk, but you do anything too stupid to it, I will take it back, and you’ll have to stand all day. Y’understand?”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say rigidly.

“Still too formal,” the redhead tells you. “C’mon. Just say my name.”

“O-okay, Melissa,” you whisper. She smiles at you, just barely. But you know you want to see that smile again. You see the way her eyes sparkle just a little differently when you’ve done something that isn’t pissing her off.

“There y’go, hon,” she smirks. “Now... for today, like I told you, I’m just monitoring their reading and checking progress, and I’ll probably be doing that for the next few days since my last aide spilled all of her gatorade over the first few kids’ work I already did. Use that time to just settle in- maybe get to know the kids a little bit.”

You nod and head back to where she told you your station was. You immediately see a bunch of thick water rings on the wood, presumably from the incompetent aide before you. You see the way that some parts of the desk are still sticky with... is that gum? And there’s paint all over the desk. You walk back over to her desk, and she finally looks like she's at some sort of peace. You hate to interrupt it.

“Do you have cleaner? That desk is a mess,” you request softly.

“Bottom cabinet by the sink,” she tells you. “Paper towels are down there too.”

“Thank you,” you smile at her as you walk away. She almost instantly falls in love with your smile. She always wants to see it.

You clean the desk and have your things relatively set up when the story is over, and she turns the lights back on.

“Alright, my little monsters,” she smiles as she stands and makes her way around her desk. “As some of you know, Miss Ashley is gone, and Principal Coleman was able to find us a replacement, so this is Ms. Y/N. Don’t rip her apart, you hear?”

“Yes, Ms. Schemmenti,” They say in unison. She has a smirk on her face though.

“Ms. Schemmenti has to do some more independent reading with youse, so if I’m not working with you, your choices are to-” she opens her marker and starts writing on the board. “Read independently, work on any papers in your unfinished work folder, or do math fluency. Is that understood?”

“Yes, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Since this is all independent work, should I be able to hear your squeaky little voices?” Melissa asks them, a smile on her face.

“No, Ms. Schemmenti.”

“Alright, kiddos. Start working. I’m gonna need Maddie first.”

As the kids start to get out their materials, and Melissa takes to work with a student at the table connected to her desk, you stand. You might as well make yourself useful and make sure the students are doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You start circulating the room quietly, making sure to redirect a few students who aren’t doing what they should be.

You even sit down with a student who seems to be having trouble with their reading and start to help them decode words that aren’t sight words. You help them sound the word out and use their context clues to figure out the meaning of the word.

Your assigned teacher starts calling other students, and you can’t help that she’s haphazardly throwing the progress monitoring sheets onto her desk. You look around the room. Every student is doing what they’re supposed to be doing. You walk over.

“Can I help you organize those?” you ask shyly. “I don’t want to overstep my bounds, but I would love to help in any way I can.”

She glances up at you, and there are those sparkling green eyes again. “You know what?” she mutters to herself. She pulls two separate class lists out along with some folders. “Knock yourself out kid.”

You smile as you take the materials and bring them back to your table. You’re able to sort through the papers and get them in order in no time.

“Do you have a filing cabinet, or maybe bins for this to go in?” you ask as you bring the stacks back over. “Any other papers for me to file?”

She just points over at the bigger piles on her desk. You grab them and think about how you want to organize all of this for her. She has different colored folders, manilla folders, and a filing cabinet.

You assign each color folder a subject and put one of each color folder in a manilla folder. The manilla folder has the student’s name on it, and then that goes into the filing cabinet. This way, if Melissa needs to pull information for a certain student, it’s all in one place. If she needs to pull from a certain subject, she’ll know what color folder to pull for each student. You’ve used this system before. You know it’ll work just fine for the redhead so long as you leave her with a key for the colored folders.

While you do this, you still manage to make sure the students are staying on task and are remaining relatively quiet. You go between organizing her papers and tending to the students seamlessly. Melissa can’t help but look at you in wonder. Maybe she got lucky having you join her class.

After a bit of time, Melissa pulls the class back together to do a whole group math lesson, a new concept for the second graders and review for the third graders, and while she’s teaching you continue to silently organize. When the time comes for the students to practice, you circulate the room in order to make sure students are grasping the concept- they should. The redhead taught it very thoroughly and very explicitly.

After math, the students head out for lunch. You settle in at your desk, ready to nibble on the granola bar you brought for the first day- eating in new places always made you relatively nervous. You promise yourself tomorrow you’ll bring a real lunch.

“Hey, Y/N,” Melissa comes back into the room after dropping the kids off at lunch. “You got a lunch?” You raise your granola bar in the air as you chew, a hand over your mouth. “We got a staff room if you’d rather eat there. I’ll be there for the lunch period, and then I’ll be back to grade those worksheets.”

You just nod quietly and settle into your seat. She lingers at the door for a few seconds before shrugging. “Suit yourself.”

You finish your lunch relatively quickly. During the lunch period, you manage to write your key for your filing system, finish filing their papers, and grade the third graders’ papers. You set them neatly on her desk with a sticky note that says, Hope you don’t mind.

“I have no clue who she is or where she came from,” Melissa sighs into her lasagna. “But she’s like a walking angel on this Earth.”

“Oh?” Barb pops an eyebrow.

“In the hour she’s been in my room, she’s cleaned the mess that Ashley left, came up with a filing system for me and started putting it together, made sure the kids were on task while I progress-monitored for reading, and helped Shyane with her decoding. This woman isn’t real, I swear.”

“That’s great to hear, Melissa,” the kindergarten teacher smiles. “You deserve the help after what... she did to your room. And what’s her name?”

“Y/N,” the redhead says.

“You actually know her name?”

“I figured I should probably learn it,” the second and third grade teacher shrugs. “Lord knows I yelled Ashley’s name enough. It woulda helped if I actually knew her name the first two weeks I was yellin’ at her.”

Barb just laughs. Their lunch period ends, and Melissa finds herself almost excited to come back into the classroom to see you.

You’re sitting at your table, head down as you type furiously on your laptop. You’re trying to finish up this paper to submit for your graduate program. It isn’t due for another three days, but you want to be finished with it so you can attempt to settle into your new job.

Melissa silently meanders her way over to her desk where she sees everything you’ve done. Her eyes widen as she realizes just how much you had completed for her. She opens her filing cabinet and looks at how you’ve organized everything before taping your rather aesthetically pleasing legend to that portion of the cabinet.

“You didn’t have to do all this, hon,” she says softly. “I appreciate it though.”

You wave a hand in dismissal and continue writing your paper. “I had the time, and I didn’t mind. I hope you don’t mind that I graded the third graders’ stuff for you. I wasn’t sure what you wanted to do with it though, so I left it out.”

“Thank you,” she says earnestly. “I really do appreciate it. You just saved my Saturday.”

“Of course, Melissa,” you reply, eyes still glued to your computer.

“You workin’ on something important over there?” she asks.

You stop your typing to look up and smile at her. “Just trying to get ahead on my paper for my one graduate class.”

“You’re in grad school?”

“I am,” you say softly. “I used to teach third grade out in the suburbs of Philly, but I decided to take a leave of absence to take some classes over at Temple. I don’t know if I could handle all of the aspects of teaching while taking four grad classes at a time.”

“Four?” her brows furrow. “That’s a lot of work.”

“It’s nothin’ I can’t handle. I’m trying to get it done as quickly as I can so I can get back to teaching.”

“So how’d you end up here?”

“I could use the money, and all of my classes are at night anyway, so I have time during the day to keep in touch with my inner teacher.”

“What’re you going for?”

“Masters in reading,” you chuckle.

“So that’s why you could help Shyane with her reading and make it make sense for her,” Melissa catches on.

“Yup,” you chuckle, popping your ‘p’. “I can always help with progress monitoring too, if you’d like.”

“That would be greatly appreciated. And your classroom management is amazing,” she compliments.

“I wouldn’t go that far,” you blush.

“That’s the quietest my classes have been since... the second week of school,” the redhead tells you as she starts grading the second graders’ work. “Give yourself more credit, rookie.”

---

That was two months ago. In the past two months, your graduate classes have really picked up. During any moment of downtime, you’re doing schoolwork. In this time, Melissa and you have grown close. You’ve come to realize she isn’t as tough as she likes to play- she’s actually quite soft for you. She’s also realized that you truly are an amazing teacher. The two of you are practically co-teaching the two different grades at this point, and she’s given you almost complete control of both grades’ reading workshop times. The two of you actually changed the schedules so that you could direct your full attention to both grades for their reading. While one group is doing their reading workshop lesson on the carpet, the other grade is doing independent work, and Melissa either circulates the room or is doing work at her desk.

You feel like you’re doing all of the work of a teacher at this point, without the pay of a teacher. She’s even asked you to come in for conferences to help explain certain aspects of the day to the students’ parents. At the rate you’re going, you would’ve been better off just staying at your old school and dealing with the parents and students there. You’re drowning. You are absolutely drowning. You don’t think you can do this anymore.

You have to tell Ava you have to quit so you can focus on your classes again. You don’t want to leave the second and third grade teacher with her classes all by herself again... and you honestly don’t want to leave the redhead. She brings a spring to your step and makes you feel like you’re always doing amazingly. But you just... can’t handle doing this anymore. You're beyond stressed, and the only way you function at this point is with copious amounts of caffeine in your system at any given time. It’s unhealthy, you’ve lost weight from the stress and the fact that you barely have time to eat anything, and you need to... you need to leave while you’re on good terms with Melissa. You need to leave before you disappoint her because you’re falling behind.

You enter the classroom early like you always do, setting your things down at your table. Usually, you take this time while Melissa is in the staff room to continue working on a paper or researching, but instead you walk down to Ava’s office.

“Hey, Ava,” you knock gently on the frame of her door. “You have a minute?”

“Hey, girl,” she doesn’t even bother to glance up from her phone. “If you’re looking for more cleaning supplies, Mr. J took them all to-”

“I was actually hoping we could talk,” you say softly. “I have something I need to tell you.”

“Are you finally filling out a relationship form for you and Schemmenti?” the principal asks as she looks away from her phone, leaning forward.

“What?” you ask, flabbergasted.

“Oh please,” Ava laughs in your face. “Don’t act like you two haven’t been sneakin-”

“Ava, I’m here to quit,” you get out before she can say anything else.

“W-what? No, you can’t do that,” the principal argues. “That classroom hasn’t been in better shape. Melissa hasn’t been angry walkin’ through the halls since you showed up.”

“I don’t want to leave, but I have to in order to keep up with my grad classes,” you tell her. “I can stay through conferences, but then I really have to focus on my own classwork.”

“But you're just an aide,” Ava tells you. “Surely you can handle it.”

“At this point, Melissa and I are co-teaching, and I’m only making an aide’s money. My grades are starting to slip in grad school, and I have to focus on that,” you tell her. “I’m running myself into the ground. I can’t keep doing this.”

“What if I just don’t accept your resignation?” she challenges.

“Ava!” You fold your arms over your chest. “I’ll stay through conferences to help Mel, but then I have to focus on myself for a little.”

“Mel?”

“Not the point, Principal Coleman.”

“What if I offered you a contracted position?” Ava tries to bargain.

“You and I both know that’s not possible,” you sigh. “I’ve seen the budget, and Abbott is already pushing the limit.”

She groans. “You have to tell your woman though. There ain’t a chance in hell I’m telling her.”

“She’s not my woman,” you roll your eyes, but you exit. You suppose you’ll tell Melissa today during your prep.

You return back to your classroom, and those striking green eyes light up when she sees you.

“There y’are,” she smiles at you. “I was hopin’ you would be here. I wanna talk to you about your thoughts on the field trip for the spring.”

You bite your cheek but nod. She doesn’t need to know you won’t be there for the field trip just yet. And if you tell her right now about your plans, she will flip. There’s not enough time to discuss that before the kids come in. So you wait to tell her. You discuss the different ideas for field trips to maybe do in the Spring. You suggest Longwood Gardens, while she thinks of the zoo. You have the idea to go to an arboretum, and she tells you maybe they could go to the ‘water zoo’, as one of your students loves to call it.

You teach your lesson while she progress-monitors for the other group, and then both classes have their special.

“Ms. Y/N?” the teacher asks. “Would you mind walking them down to the gym while I run to the bathroom?”

You nod, and the kiddos all line up for you. You walk them down and are headed back into the classroom before you’re ready. The redhead falls into step with you as she leaves the bathroom.

“They’ve been pretty good today,” Melissa notes quietly as she walks with you.

“Yeah,” you sigh softly. You start to play with the hem of your shirt nervously as you come to terms with the fact that you have to tell her you’re leaving in three weeks.

“You okay, Y/N?” she picks up on one of your many nervous habits. “You need another pick me up? I can make another pot of coffee for us, although I do think you might benefit from something other than coffee.”

You start to pick at the imaginary lint on your pants. “I think we need to talk, actually.”

“Oh?” she looks at you with eyebrows knit in concern. “You need someone to sign off on your papers for grad classes?”

“N-no,” you chuckle nervously as you close the door. “I uh... I actually need to talk to you about after conferences.”

“Sure. hon. You got another brilliant idea?” She takes a seat at her desk, taking off her glasses and setting them on top of her hair.

You sit on the edge of her desk and take a shaky breath. “Mel, after we hold conferences... I’m done.”

“Y-you’re what?” she freezes in her place.

“After conferences, I have to be done here,” you say softly, and you can’t look at her.

“You’re leavin’ us?” she whispers. She sounds heartbroken. “Leaving me? Just givin’ up on Abbott?”

You shake your head quickly. “No. Melissa, let me explain. Please.” You finally gain the courage to look at her, and you can see the tears in her eyes. You didn’t think leaving would affect her like this.

“Go ahead,” she says, tone full of ice. Her hands are on her hips, and she refuses to look at you. “Tell me why you’re leaving us. Giving up.”

‘Melissa,” you whisper and set a gentle hand on her arm.

“Don’t touch me,” she bites out. “Just explain yourself. How you’re too good for Abbott, so you’re going back to fancy, rich school out in the sub-”

“Melissa, I’m burning out,” you cut her off as you stand and start pacing her room. “I don’t want to leave, but I have to look out for my own well-being.” The redhead goes to open her mouth, but you continue. “I love Abbott more than you could ever imagine, but at this point: I’m running myself into the ground. I’m a full time grad student, I still work my shift at the restaurant on Sundays-”

“You never told me you did th-”

“-And at this point, I’m co-teaching with you. I don’t mind co-teaching with you; I actually love it. But I don’t have the time to plan out lessons, grade papers at home, or help you respond to parents when we’re off the clock. I’m only getting paid the aide’s pay, and I’m drowning in my own school assignments at this point. I-” you choke on your own breath.

All of this is finally spilling out, and you can’t stop the tears that spring to your eyes and fall down your cheeks. You didn’t realize how overwhelmed you were.

“I barely sleep, I barely eat, and I can hardly afford my rent at this point,” you admit so quietly. “So I think I- If I had known this is what being an aide was going to be like, all the responsibilities of a contracted teacher without the teacher pay, I would’ve just stayed at my old school. I- I can’t do this anymore. I’ll stay and help with conferences, but after that... I told Ava I was done.”

The redhead looks at you and the way that you’re shaking, just barely breathing and trying to catch your breath. Her heart breaks for you. This was her fault. She expected too much of you and worked you into the ground.

“Hon,” she stands from her chair and walks around her desk. She pulls you into a hug. “Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling this way? You could’ve told me.”

“Didn’t wanna- didn’t wanna disappoint you,” you shrug as you practically cling to her.

“Y/N,” Melissa pulls back to look at you. “Are you kidding me? You couldn’t disappoint me if you tried. You have natural talent when it comes to all of this, and even if you gave me just 25% as opposed to your usual 110%... It would be more than enough.”

Again, you shrug. “You kept asking for help, and I didn’t want to say no,” you mumble. “I know you’ve been struggling, and I wanted to make things as easy as possible for you- especially with the two different grades.”

“Hon, I’m a Schemmenti. I was made for tough situations,” the redhead chuckles, trying to lighten the mood. “You, however, are not a Schemmenti. You’re close, but not quite. So you gotta tell me when you’re struggling and need some support or leniency, because I’d rather have a little more on my plate than usual while you’re still here with me than have everything on my plate and not have you here... or worse, have Ashley come back.”

You inhale deeply, finally being able to catch your breath, and you wipe your tears. “I- sorry. I don’t usually get like this, but I’m-”

“Please don’t leave,” Melissa practically begs you. “I don’t know if I can go back to having all of these kids to myself.”

“Mel, I’m working myself into the ground,” you tell her, and you sit down on one of the desks. The tears in your eyes just continue to well and fall. “I really don’t think I can keep doing this... It’s getting bad again.”

“What’s getting bad?” she asks as she mimics your actions.

You run a hand through your hair. A decent clump comes out as you comb your fingers through. You make sure the second and third grade teacher sees it before you throw it out. You sigh a shaky sigh. You suppose you can admit everything now that you’ve burst into tears. “When I get really stressed... I don’t know how to stop. I just keep going, but it affects m-my everything. My hair has been falling out because of my stress. Since I’ve started working here, I’ve lost fifteen pounds because I just don’t have the time to eat, and when I do... I just end up going to bed. And even when I do that, I still only get a maximum of four hours of sleep a night because I know I have things to do for you and the kids. I- I can’t keep doing this to myself, and I know it’ll get to a point where I’m just useless to you. You and the kids deserve so much better than what I’ll be giving you if I keep going. So, I’d rather be able to leave on good terms with Abbott and you before I ruin everything.”

You’re telling her the truth. This is all happening, and you really don’t want to leave on bad terms. You don’t want to disappoint Melissa. You quite literally think your heart would break if Melissa were ever disappointed in you. Over the past two months, all you’ve wanted to do is please Melissa and make her happy- make it easier for her in any way you can.

Somewhere in the middle of being her teacher’s aide, you found yourself falling in love with her. You don’t know it, but she’s head over heels for you too. You make her days so much brighter. Even just your presence and the soft smiles you throw at her occasionally keep her calm, cool, and collected. She would rather have to take on more responsibility again but be able to keep you than have you leave all together and leave her with the shitshow.

“Hon,” she says softly. “Why didn’t you- how can I support you through this?”

You shake out your hands nervously. “I’ll be fine. I just have to get through this rough patch, and then I’ll be fine. I’ll- I’ll pick up more shifts at the restaurant to help cover my rent, and I-” you don’t know what else to say.

“Is there any way I can convince you to stay?” Melissa asks you hopefully. “I really would hate to lose ya.”

You shrug. You aren’t sure. You know that if she can come up with a few solid reasons or ways for you to stay, you will. You don’t want to leave, but it might be what you have to do.

“What if... I know we have a little wiggle room in the budget, so I can-”

“Ava already tried to offer me a contract position, but I know there isn't enough money there,” you sigh.

“But I’m sure we can argue to the board that you deserve some sort of raise?”

“I’m outsourced,” you tell her. “The board isn’t in charge of me.”

“Okay...” the woman desperate to keep you racks her brain for other ideas. “What if... I’ll start taking the third graders’ stuff home to grade instead of you. I’ll make sure I have everything planned out and the materials for lessons other than Reading workshop time... I really do think you do better with that than I ever have. And I’ll handle the parents the best that I can and only run an email by you if I really think I could use some... talking down..., and I- I’ll- I can make ya lunch to make sure you’re at least eating somewhat properly. This way... you’ll have some time to relax at home, you’ll be less stressed, and you can enjoy some of the best Italian food I got to offer. And, during everyone’s independent time, while I progress monitor, all I want you to worry about is making sure that pretty little head of yours is getting your degree. How’s that sound?”

“Mel...” you bite your lip. “That’s all real nice of you, but that doesn’t... I’d be taking a big step back from what you’re used to. I really don’t-”

“Please,” Melissa begs you. “Please. The kids- they love and respect you, and they would be heartbroken if you left. They’ve never listened to anyone as good as they do you. And I don’t want ya to go. It doesn’t even matter if you were to help out with the lessons anymore. You keep the kids calm, and you keep me calm. Like I said, I’m a Schemmenti; I can handle it all- that’s why I got stuck with the two classes in the first place. Gettin’ you was just a bonus. But now that I got ya, I don’t want to let you go. You make me a way better teacher, even if just to keep my emotions in check. Even if you don’t help plan the lessons anymore, or teach the kids... I want you around.You keep me grounded on days where I think I might lose it. I’ll be two seconds from snapping on Tymir, and all I gotta do is look at you to calm me down. I don’t wanna lose that; I don’t wanna lose you... and my sanity. You make my days way brighter than they used to be. Please stay with us.”

She’s doing everything she can to convey how she feels about you without outright saying it. She’s saying anything she can think of to keep you around. She doesn’t want to lose you. She doesn’t want to lose you because no matter what you do, you keep her grounded. You make her a better teacher. You make her days brighter. You keep her in check. She wants you to stay.

You worry your lip between your teeth as you mull everything over in your head. “I just don’t want you to start to hate me,” you admit nervously.

“I could never,” she tells you honestly.

“Even if I’m not doing as much?”

“Even if you did absolutely nothing but sit at your desk and look pretty all day,” she assures you. “I could never hate you.” I love you.

“You think I’m pretty?”

“Not the point,” Melissa rolls her eyes playfully. “But yes. I’d have to be blind to think you weren’t pretty.”

You close your eyes and take a deep breath. “O-okay. I’ll stay.”

The next thing you know, Melissa’s arms are around you and squeezing you tightly, thanking you endlessly. “Oh, thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

You give a watery chuckle before you hazard a glance at the clock. “I think you gotta go pick up the kiddos from the gym.”

“Dammit,” she grumbles. She pulls away and attempts to wipe away your tears with her sleeve. “Okay, okay. You go pull yourself together, go tell Ava that you ain’t leaving... and then all you gotta worry about today is looking pretty in the back. I don’t care what you do back there... sleep, eat, do research for your paper, start a cult... whatever you have to do to stay here with me... and the kids.”

“I’m not starting a cult,” you chuckle through watery tears. “Thank you, Mel.”

The two of you walk out of the classroom and head your separate ways- her towards the gym, you towards the bathroom.

You manage to pull yourself together a few minutes later, and then you walk down to Ava’s office.

“I take my resignation back,” you tell the principal as you enter her office.

“Your girl ain’t letting you go?”

“She isn’t my girl, but... she asked me to stay and we agreed on terms for me to work under, so I’ll be staying.”

Your principal just makes a whipping sound. “All I’m sayin is, should I get the forms ready for the two of you to file?”

You roll your eyes. “No, Ava. I- She isn’t into me like that.”

“That’s what you think,” Ava fires out. “That woman makes more eyes at you than Gregory did at Janine. It’s only a matter of time before you two come in here holding hands.”

With a huff and a toss of your hair, you exit the office and head back for the second grade wing.

When you re-enter the classroom, the kids are in the middle of snacking, but they’re doing a ‘working snack’ as you and Melissa call it. You don’t know what they’re working on, but when they finish it, they hold it close to their chest and take it up to the redheaded teacher. She gives each of them a sticker (from the tablet of stickers you bought for them) and sets the paper face down on her desk.

They don’t bother you at all as you make your way to the back of the room and settle at your seat. You pull out your laptop and attempt to focus enough to work on your paper, but you can’t help yourself from glancing up at the redheaded teacher every once in a while as she praises the students for their hard work.

Come lunch time, she heads down to the front office to pick up the cheesesteaks she had ordered for the two of you. You smell them before you know they’re for you, and you’re envious of whoever gets to dig into it. A cheesesteak sounds perfect just about now- so much better than the poptart you had packed yourself.

She walks in, both sandwiches in her arms, with a grin. “Put your laptop away, and enjoy lunch for once, hon.”

You nod and pull the poptart out of your bag. You go to open it when she plucks it out of your hand and throws it back into your bag. Instead, she lays the sandwich down in front of you. She pulls one of the chairs up to your table and starts to unwrap hers, biting into it with a moan.

“Damn,” she says through a mouthful. “That hits the spot.”

“M-Mel, you didn’t have to do that,” you say bashfully as you unwrap it. You take a small bite of the sandwich, and while your reaction to the first bite isn’t what Melissa’s was, you have to admit it’s pretty damn good.

“I didn’t have to do anything,” she chuckles. “I wanted to. And when I’m done destroyin’ this, I’m gonna brew us another pot of coffee, and then I’ll cover your recess duty so you can do whatever it is that you have to-”

“Melissa,” you cut her off. “You’re going over the top.”

“I went over the top when I worked ya to the bone. Let me make it up to you.”

“Do I have a choice?”

“Well, I’m gonna be out to cover your recess duty whether you’re out there or not, so...”

“Thank you,” you lay a gentle hand over hers and give it a squeeze. “I appreciate it.”

“I appreciate you and all the hard work you’ve been doing. If you need another day like this at any point where the kids don’t bother you or nothin’, all you gotta do is ask. I’ll always make sure to make it work for you. Anything for you. You hear me?” she tells you.

“Loud and clear, Ms. Schemmenti,” you giggle as you give her a mock salute. “Hey, what were the kids working on when I came in?”

“Don’t worry about it,” Melissa tries to dismiss your question. “You’ll figure it out by the end of the day.”

The rest of your lunch period passes as it usually does. The two of you talk about everything, even in just twenty five minutes.

“Alright, hon,” Melissa stands and zips her jacket. “I’ll be out in the recess yard. You do whatever you gotta do, yeah?”

“You really don’t have to cover my recess-”

“I don’t have to, but I want to,” she lays a hand on your shoulder and squeezes gently. “Let me do this for you.”

You nod. “Thanks, Mel.”

By the end of the day, your students haven’t bothered you once. Melissa has taken charge of the entire day, even changing plans around so she could teach both classes at the same time and monitor their independent work time simultaneously. You’re sitting in the back, eyes barely open as you type up the last of your paper. God, you’re exhausted. You can’t wait to go home and-

“Ms. Y/N,” Melissa singsongs. She taps your shoulder, and- How’d she even get next to you? And why are the kids lined up in front of you?

“Ms. Schemmenti?”

“Today, during snack time we figured we could use our time to make you cards to show how much we care for our favorite classroom aide,” the redhead says sweetly. “Isn’t that right, my little eagles?”

They all nod enthusiastically. One by one, they hand you different drawings, pictures, words, poems... everything so that you know how much you mean to them. With each paper you’re gifted with, you also get a hug.

Melissa is the last one in line, and she hands you a paper folded neatly. You open it and glance over what she had written. She just tells you how grateful she is for everything you’ve done, and how thrilled she is that you’ve decided to stick around.

It’s short, it’s sweet, it’s perfect. It’s so Melissa.

“Thank you, Ms. Schemmenti,” you breathe out as you wipe at your tears. “Wow. Thank you guys!”

“We love you, Ms. Y/N!” the class exclaims.

“And I love you guys,” you laugh through the last of your tears. “Thank you.”

A few minutes later, the bell rings, and all chaos breaks loose as the kids head out. You and the redhead are packing up the last of your things when you hear her sigh.

“So... what do you say you come over to my place tonight, and I make ya dinner while you finish up your paper and then relax? Make your life a little easier.”

“You already fed me one meal today and made my life easier,” you laugh as you sling your bag over your shoulder.

“What’s one more?” she shrugs. “Offer’s on the table, and I make one mean risotto.”

“Alright, Mel,” you sigh in good nature. “But I’m bringing wine.”

“Grab something good.”

---

The redhead and you walk into Ava’s office together a month and a half later.

“I knew it,” she celebrates quietly. She then leans into the PA system. “Attention, Mr. Johnson: You lost! Fool!”

She opens her drawer and pulls out the forms for HR.

She’s already filled out most of it with a sparkly pink pen- all you two have to do is sign the bottom to recognize that the two of you are in a workplace relationship.

“Ava!” you exclaim as you look over them.

“I told you it was only a matter of time,” she says with a smug look on her face.

You hate to admit it, but Ava was right.

#abbott elementary #abbott elementary fanfic #abbott elementary fanfiction #melissa schemmenti x you #melissa schemmenti #melissa schemmenti fanfic #melissa schemmenti x reader

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tikosblogg · 7 months ago

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One shot request: fluff/comforting?

You work with Bad Omens and you’re dating Noah. You get left behind during lunch and he notices. Noah looks for you and takes you on a one on one lunch date. He notices you’re a bit sad on being left out, but comforts you and makes you feel better.

Idk. Thanks!

*Fav pic*

Summary: request, the guys forget you when leaving for lunch. Noah makes it up to you.

Warning: none

A/N: so sorry if this sucks donkey ass.

Noah had always been my little idea of magic. warm brown eyes, and an unforgettable smile, he was the kind of person who could light up a room just by walking in. At 6’3”, he towered over me, but the safety and warmth he wrapped around me were what kept me grounded. We had been together for nearly a year now, and every day felt like a new chapter in a thrilling novel, filled with bends, turns, and unexpected revelations.

Today, however, felt rather ordinary. I was deep in the trenches of organizing files in the studio while the band was busy tinkering away in the other room. They were working on their next big album, a project that had them buzzing with creative energy. I enjoyed the quiet of the studio. I loved the smell of the paper, old and new; the ambient sounds of instruments scattered around the room; even the scent of a leftover coffee that lingered in the air from earlier had its charm.

Suddenly, I heard the murmur of voices rising in conversation and laughter. A few moments later, they faded into the background, and silence fell over the studio once more. I paid it little mind, consumed by an arrangement of lyrics and chord progressions I was sorting through. After all, it wasn’t unusual for the band to take breaks or go out for lunch on a whim.

Yet, something felt off. I checked my watch and noticed that it was far later than I thought. I left the files I was working on and decided to step outside for a moment, eager to catch Noah and the band before they headed out.

As I moved into the main room, I quickly realized that The space was empty, and my heart sank. I hurried to the window, peering outside, and sure enough, they were piling into their van. A wave of disappointment washed over me like ice water. They had mentioned going for lunch earlier, but I thought I’d obviously be invited. I felt hurt and little forgotten.

I turned back to the cluttered studio, my stomach twisting uncomfortably. This wasn’t the first time their immersion into work had caused them to neglect telling me something crucial. And for Noah not to come and get me? That hurt more than I’d like to admit.

“Guess I’ll just eat later,” I mumbled to myself, glancing back at the files waiting for me. I sat down, but the paperwork felt heavy and unyielding, just like the sudden weight in my chest.

Meanwhile, Noah was in the van, but as he turned to look for you, He counted the heads: there was everyone, except for you.

“Wait—where’s Y/N?” he asked, frowning as he watched the front door, half-hoping to see you walk out. When his gaze fell on the door that should have been swinging open, uncertainty washed over him. The laughter from his bandmates faded into background noise as a sinking realization grew. He’d forgotten to grab You.

“Hey, guys. Hold on a second,” he called out, acknowledging his bandmates as he threw open the door, racing back into the studio. He found you hard at work, but the moment you looked up, he saw it in your eyes—a hurt that took his breath away.

“Baby?” he said softly, and the tone of his voice instantly made me feel like a fragile glass sculpture—a delicate thing he could accidentally shatter.

I forced a smile, but it didn’t quite reach my eyes. “Hey.”

His small smile dropped as he approached me, enveloping me in a warm embrace without hesitation. I leaned into him, seeking comfort. “I’m so sorry sweet girl, I thought you were coming with us. I didn’t realize you weren’t in the room with us, I thought you were right behind me.” he murmured, pressing a gentle kiss to the top of my head.

I closed my eyes, relishing the safety of his presence, but the sadness still lingered at the edges of my mind. “I know, it’s fine. It’s not a big deal, I guess, but I just wanted to be with you.”

“No it’s not fine. I feel like such an ass. I always want you with me.” he smiled, pulling away to hold my face in his hands, his brown eyes searching mine. He pressed another soft kiss to my lips. “You and I are going on a lunch date. Just the two of us.”

I couldn’t help but smile a little. “But you were all ready to eat with the guys…”

“Nope,” he insisted, shaking his head. “I wanna spend time with just you. I see those idiots enough.”

With that, he took my hand and led me out of the house, feeling the warmth of his laughter begin to thaw my lingering disappointment.

#noah sebastian #bad omens #badomensimagines #noahsebastiancult #bad omens cult #imagines #bad omens band

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soombee · 8 months ago

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꒰°｡⋆ ⛸️ ice skating date with park sunghoon ! ❄️⤸ ᵕ✩

hope u guys enjoy……. this made me so 😢😢😢😢😢😢 #JEALOUS. #GRRRR

the rink was lit up with soft, twinkling lights that reflected off the ice, giving everything a dreamy glow. you looked over at sunghoon, who was tying his skates with ease while you looked like you had just learned how to tie your laces. his cheeks were already rosy from the chill, and his eyes sparkled with excitement.

you struggled with the long laces on your skates, sunghoon crouched down in front of you with a teasing grin

“here,” he said, brushing your hands away gently “let me do it”

you watched, cheeks flushing, as he carefully took each lace in his fingers, tying them up perfectly, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. his face was close to yours, eyes focused, brows furrowed slightly in concentration. you could see the faintest hint of a smile playing on his lips and couldn’t help but to leave a little peck on his forehead,

“there,” he smiled, giving the laces a final tug before looking up at you with that soft, loving gaze. “all done” sunghoon murmured, gently brushing a stray hair from your face. his fingers lingered for a moment, his thumb tracing softly along your cheek, sending a warm shiver down your spine

sunghoon’s hand cupped your cheek. he paused, just for a second, his eyes meeting yours, closing the distance, pressing his lips softly to yours. the kiss was warm and tender, melting away the harsh coldness as you both lingered in the warmth of the kiss

as sunghoon pulled away from the kiss, a soft smile played on his lips, his hand still resting gently on your cheek. you both stayed like that for a moment, letting the warmth of each other’s presence sink in, until a playful twinkle appeared in his eyes

“enough distractions” he teased, standing up and offering his hand, “i won’t be able to hold back if u tease me any longer, yn”

you giggle as your hand intertwines with his, letting him help you to your feet. as you wobbled on your skates, he steadied you, chuckling softly at your uneasiness. with his hand secure in yours, you both made your way to the edge of the rink. the ice stretched out in front of you, shimmering under the twinkling lights

sunghoon squeezed your hand reassuringly and led you onto the ice, his movements were so smooth and natural, while you were anything but. every slip and wobble only made him smile wider, keeping his other hand lightly on your back to keep you steady.

he chuckled softly, noticing the way you clung to him like a koala, “don’t worry, i won’t let that pretty face of yours hit the ice” he kissed your head as a promise

the sound of his voice, calm and steady, melted away your nerves. you looked up at him, taking in the warmth in his gaze, and with a deep breath, you loosened your grip, letting him guide you forward across the ice

“easy for you to say! you’ve been doing this since you were basically born,” you mumbled, eyes stuck on the wide, slippery ice rink

he chuckled, gliding over effortlessly, holding your hand tighter, “exactly why you’re in good hands. just trust me, alright?”

with a deep breath, you squeezed his hands back, his touch was steady and reassuring, and he kept his eyes on you, his thumb tracing soft circles on the back of your hand

“alr, first, let’s start with little steps,” he said, skating backward so he could face you. “don’t rush; just let yourself feel the ice, yeah?”

you nodded, gripping sunghoon’s hands tightly as you wobbled your way forward. he was so patient with you, giving little pointers with a gentle tone. being the sweetest gentleman he is, you swear you were falling in love with him all over again, as if you still don’t have a raging crush on him

“bend your knees a lil more, don’t be afraid to lean into it” he smiled

gradually, you felt a bit of confidence building, sunghoon’s excitement contagious. every time you made even the smallest progress, he’d cheer, his face lighting up as if you’d just landed a triple axel

“look at my girl, already such a pro” he teased, making you laugh as you managed a few more steps without clinging to him

you smiled, feeling your cheeks flush— not just from the cold. “if i go pro, ima have to give u a LOT of credit”

he grinned, releasing one of your hands and gesturing for you to follow his lead. “ready to spin?”

your eyes went wide. “SPIN?! SUNGHOON, I CAN BARELY—”

before you could finish, he gently tugged you forward, guiding you into a slow, careful turn. you stumbled, letting out a surprised laugh, and sunghoon quickly caught you

with a mischievous grin, he took the moment a step further, sliding one arm around your waist and leaning you back into a soft dip. the world seemed to slow as he held you there, his face close to yours, eyes locked in with his

he closed the distance, pressing his lips to yours in a tender kiss, his arm keeping you safely supported as you melted into the moment. the cold around you faded, replaced by the warmth of his kiss, and as he gently pulled you back up, both of you were left smiling, hearts racing

“park sunghoon!!!” you hit him gently, still blushing as the taste of his lips lingered in your mouth “you are such a tease..”

“i told you, pretty, i won’t ever let you fall” he chuckled, looking down at you with a warmth in his eyes that made your heart skip a beat

in that moment, it didn’t matter if you were shaky on the ice or if you weren’t as graceful as him. all you could focus on was the way his eyes were full of so much love, looking at you like he’s won in life

you smiled up at him, feeling another rush of warmth despite the cold, “thank you, sunghoon. for everything”

he squeezed your hands gently, his voice soft, “of course, anything for you, pretty. and, who knows? maybe w a little more practice, you just might be able to keep up with me”

you both laughed, and he gave you one last twirl, holding you steady as you shared the sweetest, most jealousy inducing moment on the ice, feeling like you were both floating in a little world of your own

one last story before last chap of ybahimh😪

div. creds: @strangergraphics-archive

#soo0mi #enhypen #enhypen sunghoon #enhypen sunghoon x reader #sunghoon #sunghoon x reader #enhypen imagines #enhypen x reader #park sunghoon #park sunghoon x reader #sunghoon x yn #park sunghoon x yn

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viridian-dagger · 3 months ago

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Seiðr of a Death Singer - 4

Rating: Explicit/Mature - 18+ only! Minors DNI

Warnings: named/minimally described oc, mute!oc, animal death/animal sacrifice (its a fish), witchcraft, Kjartan and Sven and some awful shit they did mention, death, mutilation of bodies (Skade), Uhtred is lowkey in his dumb bitch hours (its not his fault but like. come on man), Skade is really just a warning in herself but also I'm making her more of a bad bitch bc I can and I want to, allusion to madness, curses, emotional progress is made with more than one pretty boy 👀... but then progress is lost with another lmao

Word count: 5k

Author's Note: cross posted on ao3, beta read by @witchoftheewilds and dividers by @zaldritzosrose found here ! please let me know what you think and if you want to be added to the taglist 🖤

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Røskva spent most of the ride to Aweltun in the shadows of her own mind. The things she could do to spare Uhtred and the rest of the men from any stray curses the other seer might try to throw at them were being meticulously catalogued. But she was truly, deeply afraid; the salves and tinctures she learned from her nan were nothing against chaos Bloodhair’s seer would undoubtedly unleash.

She would have to rely on what she’d learned from Hrafn, things she never forgot but frightened her all the same..

Hrafn had been a frail, elderly seer Kjartan had brought to Dunholm when she was 14. The seer had been half blind, half mad, and nearing death but she had taught Røskva a great many things she hadn’t known before. How to throw a curse, how to give blood offerings, how to show allegiance to the Gods, how to bend others to her will, how to use their blood against them… Some of her lessons had been terrifying.

But in the fear and uncertainty, Hrafn had also been compassionate. She had been teaching Røskva how to sever the ties of a blood bond less than a month after arriving in Dunholm when Kjartan overheard. He had killed her and the old woman's head spent a month on a pike on the outer wall.

She wasn’t sure exactly how willing anyone other than Sihtric would be to help her; Finan and Osferth wouldn't understand what she had to do, and Uhtred’s loyalty to the Gods wavered in her mind as she thought about how close he was to the priest. Sihtric would understand, especially if she reminded him what Hrafn taught her. She had never seen Sihtric so terrified in her life when the old woman had grabbed him by the chin and whispered 'don't fight the call of fate, boy’.

But the closer they rode, the more unsettled she felt. The air felt heavy, and the visions blurred with reality as she fell in and out of them easily. Her only foothold in time was the conversations happening around her and Finan’s chest pressed against her back.

“We will stop here and scout,” Uhtred called out, snapping her out of her haze as the horses came to a stop. She couldn’t tell if the rot and smoke was in her mind alone or if it truly lingered in the air, but it made her feel ill regardless.

Finan had helped her down from his horse before she watched him disappear into the treeline, Uhtred and Osferth looking after him while Sihtric plopped down onto a stump to sharpen his seax. She took the opportunity to slink into the brambles and thickets, ripping plants and herbs out of the ground as she went. She grabbed anything that she thought could be helpful; purple and black

Røskva hated the way her hands shook as she made her way over to the near-frozen stream. Sinking to her knees, she broke up the thin layer of ice on the surface, shivering as the frigid water splashed up, raining droplets onto her skin.

She waited and watched, and when she found what she was looking for, took a breath and plunged her hand into the water. The wriggling, slippery creature nearly escaped, but the tip of her blade found its home between the gills and the fish went still.

“Røskva!” Sihtric shouted, making her jump as he stalked to her side. “Did you not hear me calling for you? What are you—” he asked, but cut himself off when she glared at him.

She pointed at the small, shaky rune Hrafn had tattooed on the back of her hand. Sihtric’s face went pale and he grabbed the Mjölnir hanging around his neck. She saw rapidfire emotions flicker in his eyes before they went hard and cold, determination burning in them.

“What do you need?” he whispered, and she felt something in her soften against her own will as she smiled at him sadly and she shook her head, lifting the limp fish in her hand for him to see. “You are afraid,” Sihtric said softly, and she nodded, not bothering to lie. “It was the vision?” He asked again, earning another nod. “Be swift. Finan has returned with a survivor. They are making a plan, but we will leave soon.”

She gave him a soft smile before turning to the water, digging the blade into the fish and slicing it open with one clean cut, and it took her a moment to find the heart. The warmth from the small organ seeped into her palm, and she felt a small pang of sadness ring through her chest as the life fled from the heart, turning a slightly ashen grey.

She hadn’t noticed that Sihtric had dropped to his knees beside her and made a hole in the frozen ground for her. She gave him a small smile in thanks and set to work, making a nest of fibrous roots, wilting berries, and musky flower petals. She placed the heart inside the nest and piled the berries and flowers high, before covering it with the unearthed dirt. She closed her eyes and mouthed the words she never dared to speak before, but could never forget.

Time seemed to stop as she chanted — the words less than a whisper in the breeze — and she felt the world fall away as the thread of fate was weaved. Gone was the sound of the rushing stream breaking the ice and the smell of frost as she watched the iridescent strand burst from soil and streak out into the aether, and she felt the blood sing in her ears as the strand went taut and latched onto the other’s heart; the curse had been made and would not be broken.

“Røskva, we must return,” Sihtric said softly, breaking her from her daze. She felt as though she was half in a dream still; nothing quite in focus as he took her hands and pulled her off the ground to her feet. “Do you have need of this?” he asked, grabbing the carcass of the fish. She shook her head, walking away from the stream toward the sound of Uhtred and Finan’s voices.

When she stumbled back through the thickets of shrubs, she found a new person speaking to Uhtred and Osferth in hushed tones while Finan stood within arms reach, face hard and eyebrows furrowed. “Did you lot have a good time playin’ around in the water?” Finan groused, sending an annoyed look over her shoulder.

“She was making an offering,” Sihtric lied, his voice even and steady. She would have believed he thought that was the truth if she hadn’t sent the curse herself. She hoped her confusion wasn’t betrayed by the fog that had settled in her mind, but Finan hadn’t spared a glance in her direction to notice anything to betray Sihtric’s lie; his gaze was focused entirely on Sihtric.

“We do not have the time for this,” Uhtred snapped, voice thick with annoyance. “Bloodhair is near and we must move before we lose the chance!”.

“Do not lose this,” Sihtric whispered in her ear, pressing the knife she had abandoned into her palm, before slipping past where she stood and joined Uhtred.

She stared dumbly down at the knife in her hand, wondering how she had been so stupid to leave it. Finan’s gentle hand removing the knife from her grip took her focus as he spoke, voice soft in her ear, as they walked toward Uhtred. “You shouldn’t hide that in your boot anymore, darlin’, it’s too hard to reach,” he said gently, sticking the knife in her belt.

She was about to respond, but her attention was caught by the unfamiliar man speaking to Uhtred, “Bloodhair was there this morning, lord, I swear,” he said, his voice shaking. “He burned the village and took the church.”

“I believe you, my friend,” Uhtred said kindly. “We will make haste, and save what we can.”

The journey to Aweltun was easy and quick, but every step brought a sharpness and clarity to her mind. The village was nothing but smoking ruins, completely abandoned save for a few Danes standing in the yard around the church in the center of town. The sight of the church alone was enough to turn her stomach, but the way rot seemed to seep out of the building into the ground and spread outward, reaching toward them made her heart lurch in her throat.

“Bloodhair is gone, lord, but the devil woman; she is in there,” the man whispered, pointing at the church. She watched the annoyance flicker on Uhtred’s face, but settle into a passive grimace as he looked at the smouldering remains of the village. “Am I still needed?”

“Go find your family,” Uhtred said softly, not bothering to look away from the Danes as the man scurried away. She could hear the blood rushing in her ears as they waited for a sign from Uhtred when he broke the silence, eyes finding hers. “You will not move from here unless you are being attacked, yes?” He asked, voice firm.

She nodded, but gave him a gesture that made a smirk grow on Finan’s face as she walked away, giving Osferth a small smile as she passed him. He gave her a flat grimace in return as he was pushed forward, into the path of the Danes. She knew he was bound to be the distraction.

She watched the three of them communicate silently, Sihtric’s eyes cutting to hers to give a single burning look before finding the others again. Røskva fought the urge to scoff as Sihtric tapped the flat of Finan’s sword with his axe and ran out of sight.

“She said ‘try not to get killed’, but with a truly stunnin’ amount of colourful words for you,” Finan whispered through a laugh as they ran in the opposite direction of Sihtric.

Røskva strained to hear Osferth’s muffled voice, but flashes of blood and death cut through her mind like a white hot blade and she knew she couldn’t stand idly by and watch them be sent to their deaths. At the first clang of metal, she slipped her blade out of its hiding spot and ran to the church, hiding around the corner from the door.

She went completely unnoticed by the Danes as they rushed to the sounds of fighting, and by Uhtred and his men who went from one opponent to the next seamlessly.

Until suddenly it stopped; countless Danes lay dead, scattered around the churchyard as Finan, Sihtric, Uhtred, and Osferth made their way up the steps toward the door.

“Haesten told Beocca she is of the devil,” Uhtred said as she watched Finan try to peek through the window into the church.

“Then it might be an idea to bar the door and burn the place down,” Finan suggested. She hated the way Uhtred’s body tensed at the suggestion; Finan was right, and Uhtred couldn’t see it. “Why not?” He asked Uhtred.

“To Bloodhair she will be priceless,” Uhtred reasoned but something black swirled in her gut. The rot from the witch was taking hold of him; the cursed woman had him in her sights already.

As soon as Uhtred stepped toward the church door, she forced herself to dart out and stand in front of the door. She held the blade behind her back, hands shaking. She would never stand a chance against him or the others — even Osferth would be able to cut her down — but she hoped Uhtred would listen to reason.

“Røskva, what are you doing here? I told you to wait in safety!” Uhtred snapped, eyes narrowing. “Stand aside, we must retrieve this seer.” She stood her ground and shook her head, eyes flickering to meet Finan’s gaze over her shoulder.

“Lord, she doesn’t want us to go in there. Maybe she’s got a good reason for it,” Finan suggested calmly. “Have you been havin’ visions of this place?” he asked.

‘Nothing but death here,’ she gestured in return. ‘Please, leave here. We will die if we stay.’

Finan went pale and made the sign of the cross, “We have to go, lord. Nothin’ here for us but death she said.”

“She would not lie, lord,” Sihtric added softly.

“I do not care! I must bring her to Alfred and we will ransom her to Bloodhair!” Uhtred roared, eyes going wild. He seemed different than she had known him and she knew then that she had cast her curse too late; the seer in the church had bound Uhtred to her. The madness that she had cursed upon her was already reflecting in Uhtred — it would only get worse until she could unbind them.

‘She will take him,’ she gestured to Finan, pleading with her eyes for him to listen, and to disobey Uhtred this once if only to save his life. ‘Burn it with her inside. It is the only way to save him.’

“She said we must burn it,” Finan said, grief colouring his words.

“I care not what a sheltered little witch says! Stand aside!” Uhtred shouted, stepping toward her. She flinched, but pulled the knife out from behind her back, swiping it in his direction.

“You would harm me? After all I have done to protect you?” He asked, stepping back as if she had dealt him a wound. His bright blue eyes shone with confusion and hurt.

‘There is nothing here but death,’ she gestured again in vain, but he simply growled in anger and lunged for her, grabbing her wrist and twisting it roughly. The knife fell to the ground with a muffled slap and the scream of pain caught in her throat uselessly. She felt again like the helpless whelp of a girl that they had saved from hanging just over a week ago, but she felt less safe than she had ever felt in their presence.

“Røskva!” Finan shouted while Osferth cried out, “Lord, please!”

“Enough!” Uhtred growled, “Finan, bind her hands. She is a traitor to me.”

“Lord, she is not a traitor!” Sihtric argued.

“She is tryin’ to keep us alive,” Finan said as Uhtred pushed her toward the Irishman, out of the way of the door. Uhtred ignored them both and despite his protest, Finan bound her hands nonetheless. The binding was weak and loose, and his eyes bored into hers, teeming with regret as he did as his lord bid.

She felt the string of fate she had woven grow tighter as the door swung open with a slow creeeeeeak behind her. Sihtric looked sickened and conflicted as he passed by her, following Uhtred into the church.

“I’m sorry, love, but there’s nothin’ I can do,” Finan whispered, leading her into the church with a deep grimace set on his face.

She heard the mirrored gasps from Uhtred and Sihtric, only seconds apart but equally as unsettled as they rounded the corner. She knew what was coming, she’d seen it already, but nothing prepared her for the smell of death and blood that hung in the air, stagnant and ominous. And the sight was worse than she had expected; the mutilated corpses strewn across the floor, hanging from the rafters, and impaled onto the wall. A Dane stood shrouded shadows against the wall on the far side of the church, but standing in the center of the room, perched against a small table and smirking up at the corpse strung on the rafters, was the woman cursed.

Her blonde hair was matted and wild, tipped in blood, viscera up to her elbows as she held a human heart in her hands. But the worst was the hollow blackness in her eyes that seemed to only appear every time Røskva blinked.

“You are Skade?” Uhtred asked, and Røskva cringed. Using her name did not give him any power over her; it only strengthened her hold on him. The Dane in the shadows reached for his axe but Uhtred and his men all drew their weapons. “You,” he said pointing to the Dane, “you will do nothing except go to your lord and tell him that Uhtred of Bebbanburg has his witch.”

Skade smiled and Røskva felt sick, “I knew it was you,” she purred.

“There will be a ransom to pay,” Uhtred said firmly, ignoring her.

“No,” she smirked, “you will go to my lord and tell him from this moment forth, Uhtred of bebbanburg is cursed. That the witch holds his heart in her hands,” Skade said, stepping toward Uhtred as she showed off the heart in her hand. “And she will squeeze it… and break it,” she said, digging her nails into the organ before letting it fall to the floor with a sickening, wet plop.

The Dane looked between Uhtred and Skade, both of them saying “Go.” Røskva cut her gaze to Sihtric, and the look in his eyes was impossible to mistake; he would never doubt her again.

“It is you who are my prisoner now,” Skade smiled as the Dane squeezed out of the room past them.

“Seize her,” Uhtred demanded, but no one moved. “I said seize the witch Sihtric! Bind her hands!” he shouted, spitting the word as if it was a curse on its own.

Sihtric sprung into action at the snappish tone, hastily unbinding Røskva’s hands before grabbing Skade and wrapping the length of rope around her wrists tightly. A murderous gleam sparkled in her eyes as Sihtric worked, “I have aligned myself with the three spinners of fate and taken hold of your life. You belong to me now—”

“And her mouth!” Uhtred shouted, sounding panicked as he stumbled backward. “I want to hear no more from this foul witch!”

A viscous smile spread on her face as Finan moved, producing another length of fabric to bind her, “—Your path is the path I choose for you Uhtred Ragnarsson and your spirit is mine to torment!” she shouted before Finan was able to silence her.

Despite her now forced silence, Røskva couldn’t help but squirm under the seer’s gaze. It was truly empty save for the malice glittering in their depths.

“Cover her eyes,” Uhtred demanded, and she felt grateful for it as Finan slapped a hand over her eyes and instantly the air cleared of her poisonous rot. For a second, she thought she saw Uhtred’s eyes clear of madness, but with a blink they were wild and unfocused again. “We will take her with us to Aescengum.”

“Lord—” Osferth said, but Uhtred turned and stalked out of the church without acknowledging him. Osferth simply sighed and turned to Røskva, “He should have listened to you.”

‘He is blinded by her,’ she gestured with a halfhearted shrug.

“Osferth is right,” Sihtric mumbled, eyes dark as he stormed out of the church after Uhtred. The discord between them, and the sudden shift in Uhtred’s behavior had her mind spinning; how had she gotten hold of him? Bound him to her before seeing him? It made the knot in her gut tighten in discomfort as she trudged back out into the cold, praying the smell of death and rot didn’t linger. She knew it would though.

“I do not trust her, lord,” she heard Sihtric mumble as she walked out into the courtyard. He and Uhtred were standing toe to toe, frustration evident in both Sihtric’s face and the rigid set of Uhtred’s shoulders; she was almost sure she could see his hands shaking where they were fisted at his sides. “She can ride with me if—”

“I said she rides alone!” Uhtred shouted, rage rolling off him in waves. The anger in his voice made her stop in her tracks; was he angry with her? He had every reason to be, but she hoped he could see now she was only trying to save them the suffering Skade would bring.

Guilt flashed in Sihtric’s mismatched gaze as he caught her eye over Uhtred’s shoulder, and Sihtric deflated as Uhtred whipped around to glare in her direction, his eyes hardening slightly before he turned back around and stomped away, back in the direction of the horses.

“I will hear no more arguments, Sihtric. Put her on the horse and meet me on the road,” Uhtred shouted as he walked. “She better be worth the trouble she has already caused,” she heard him growl as he left.

“Where’s he goin’?” Finan asked as they watched Uhtred retreat.

Sihtric sighed in response, shoulders slumping as he hung his head. “To Aescengum. To Wessex’s aid, as always,” he muttered before grabbing the reins of the lone horse tied to the ramshackle fence surrounding the church and beginning to walk after Uhtred.

Osferth piped up from behind her, his voice so close to her it made Røskva jump. “He does not trust her.”

A cold sweat broke across her skin as she followed after Sihtric, pleading in her mind for him to turn and assure her that they weren’t talking about her, that she still had the sliver of trust she had earned in the last few days.

“Good, I don’t want her on my bloody horse anyway,” Finan scoffed and her heart stuttered in her chest, but she forced herself to keep walking. Shame caused her cheeks to heat and spread down her neck and chest, settling in her gut like acid.

She tuned out the conversation as they walked, trying to find a way to explain to Uhtred why she had tried to stop him, why Skade couldn’t be trusted. But any explanation felt meaningless; she had lost his trust. He had called her a witch with the same venom he had spat the word in Skade’s direction.

“Røskva,” a voice in her ear made her jump, her attention snapping to the source of the voice. She found raw emotion, unhidden and unguarded, on Sihtric’s face, eyes desperate and pleading. “Please, I will help you with what I can, but you must do something. Uhtred is… mad. Not even when Gisela–only when Ragnar–and Guthred–please. You must help me,” he begged, words tumbling out of his mouth in half sentences that made no sense to her.

She could do nothing but stare at him, frozen in shock, and nod.

Relief seemed to swarm him instantly, tension bleeding out of his posture as a small smile grew on his face. “Thank you, I will do what I can to assist. I may be able to get Finan to help as well,” he whispered conspiratorially as they broke through the shrubs, finding the horses they had left; Uhtred’s chestnut stallion was gone already. “When we are in Aescengum, we will make a plan,” he nodded, walking away to his dappled mare.

She couldn’t help but stare after him in confusion; the wild fluctuations in his emotions were unusual. Røskva could find no reasonable explanation other than Skade — her influence was affecting all of them.

“Røskva,” Finan’s voice called out, his voice coming from everywhere and nowhere all at once. Røskva seethed in silence at the disorientation it was giving her, eyes scanning the area.

She hadn’t noticed when the oppressive fog settled on the meadow, obscuring nearly everything from view.

“Røskva!” he shouted, voice booming in her ears. Suddenly, the fog cleared and she found Finan’s concerned face inches from her own, hands hovering over her shoulders as if he was afraid to touch her. “You alright love?” he asked, his voice dropping to a whisper, “Was that a vision? It was like you were starin’ right through me.”

She stamped out the confusion and settled on rage as she found Skade smirking beneath her gag with her vacuous eyes locked onto Røskva from where she sat, bound by the wrists to the saddle of a horse.

‘We should have killed her when we had the chance,’ she gestured, stomping over to his horse.

Røskva was sick of the back of Uhtred’s head; she had been staring at it, mentally pleading for him to turn around and chat with the group as they rode, but he remained silent and just barely ahead of them as Aescengum appeared ahead of them in the valley. She could feel the weight of Skade’s gaze on the back of her own head, but she refused to give the woman the satisfaction.

“I fear she may have got herself inside his head,” Finan grumbled, his voice gruff in her ear, “We should kill her and be done with it.”

“That will not kill the curse,” Sihtric argued, eyes cutting between her and Finan. She gave him a terse nod, but didn’t try to elaborate. He was right, and even if Finan and Osferth didn’t know it, she did.

“There is no curse!” Osferth called out from behind them. He had gotten the short end of the stick and was forced to tie his horse with Skade’s to ensure she couldn’t bolt.

“And if I say there is no Christian God, does that make it so?” Sihtric snapped back, whipping around to glare at Osferth over his shoulder.

“There is no curse, Sihtric!” Osfterth called back, ignoring the glare. Røskva couldn’t help but feel grateful that Osferth seemed unchanged and unbothered by Skade’s presence.

“I’ve seen a woman throw a curse and the next day a man is dead,” Sihtric said, voice going tight as he refused to look in her direction. The silence that followed made Røskva’s skin crawl; Finan and Osferth were clearly wondering if he had been talking about her.

And Røskva couldn’t deny it — she had cursed one of Kjartan’s men when he offered to buy her and Thyra from Sven and Kjartan. Røskva had waited until the ale had begun to flow, stood on the table, and thrown the curse in the hall, for everyone to see. The men had laughed and jeered, not believing she had the ability to send a man to his death.

But when he broke his fast the next morning, he started leaking blood in every direction. The screaming and panic started soon after, followed by a blanket of silence. The man had fallen dead into his porridge, and she was the cause.

She’d been careful not to show Kjartan her power before then, but rage had overtaken sense. Unfortunately, it had revealed something she wished she could have kept hidden. From that moment on, Kjartan knew what she had been capable of, and knew also when she had refused to carry out his command — a frequent occurrence. The whippings came more often after that, but she took them without complaint. She refused to let a man like Kjartan wield her like a sword when he had one of his own.

“Right,” Finan coughed, breaking the uncomfortable silence. “That is enough talkin’. To speak of it makes it stronger,” he whispered conspiratorially.

As Aescengum rose ahead of them as the sun set in the sky, Røskva couldn’t help but feel nervous at the sight of it; it looked larger and stronger than both Dunhom and Eofferwic, but it looked oppressive and dark in the fading light. She’d never seen a Saxon keep before — the walls were high and made of stone; they looked as though they could withstand a siege for months on end. And the soldiers on the gate wore strange armour and held spears tipped with a glimmering metal.

The thought of the guards turning their spears on them had anxiety churning in her gut, but the gate opened without fuss as Uhtred rode up to them. Røskva wondered how long it would be till the Saxons turned on him; Uhtred was a Dane afterall. Her nan had warned her that the Saxons would only tolerate a Dane for so long before he showed his true alliance — to their God above all.

“Welcome to Wessex, Lady Røskva,” Finan whispered in her ear with a chuckle. She wasted no time sending an elbow into his ribs, smiling to herself at the groan of pain and the laugh that followed. “I deserved that, didn’t I?”

“Lord Uhtred!” A voice called out as they made their way into the courtyard, and fear seized her when she saw the big Saxon who had found them outside of Eofferwic, Steapa. Behind him stood Father Beocca, looking pensive. “The King would like to speak to you.”

“Could we not have a moment to rest, Steapa? We have been riding for days,” Uhtred groused in return.

“I’m sorry, lord, but the King said the matter was urgent,” Steapa said firmly.

She heard Uhtred groan as he dismounted, “Tell him I will be there shortly, I have a hostage to deal with.”

“Let your men deal with the hostage, you are needed,” Steapa said firmly, turning away.

Røskva watched as Uhtred’s shoulders slumped and the burden he wore became immediately noticeable. He bore it with grace most of the time, but there was a weight on him the others did not have. She had seen glimpses of it, not able to put her finger on exactly what it was that plagued him, but now she understood what exactly that burden was: it was King Alfred and the whole of Wessex.

A knife of sympathy twisted in her gut as she watched Uhtred send a pleading look in their direction, eyes seeking out Sihtric, Finan and Osferth, but his eyes passed over her as if she didn’t exist and her heart dropped; she had truly lost his trust. Skade was also not given the satisfaction of his attention — she wasn’t sure if that made her feel sick with regret or delighted that Skade’s influence hadn’t gone too deep.

She watched him retreat toward the stone walls of the burh, but he was stopped by a guard. A dangerous tension took over his body as they spoke into his ear. They argued for a moment before the guard walked away, leaving Uhtred where he stood, still but nearly vibrating with rage.

“Lord…?” Osferth called out.

The cold sweat of anxiety spread across her skin as she turned, eyes immediately finding her and blazing with a rage she hadn’t yet seen. “The King is requesting Røskva’s presence. Now.”

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taglist: @whitedarkmoonflower @blkflowergrl

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yeseser · 3 months ago

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Les Mis but make it an Avatar au part 1

So I had this crazy idea recently-

So France is primairly the earthbenders' land, centered around hard labor, stability and the concept of justice and progress, hovewer the economy and the whole system is generally corrupted. The airbenders constantly try to fight for better conditions for those in need, and feel restrained and imprisoned between the stone walls of the city and strong societal beliefs that will just not budge. The firebenders are deemed uncontrollable and dangerous, so they are often percieved as the ones at fault for the corruption and misery, instead of the government rightfully taking the blame itself. Waterbenders are generally accepted in the land, hovewer they are mostly the ones working in medical and industrial fields and usually denied proper education, even tho they believe it's the earthbenders who should be doing the hard labor, instead of basking in wealth and privilidge.

Valjean- The avatar, but he feels like he has too much to lose to actually stand out and do proper avatar job, so he just casually saves multiple lives on the side daily, while still remaining anonymous. Oh and he's hunted by Javert in this universe too obviously, so he has to hide all the time, usually pretending to just be an earthbender and nothing more, despite natively being a firebender. He was taken to the galleys after being caught starting a small fire to discract the owner of the bakery to steal bread for his familly, who were mostly non-benders. After he served his time in the galleys, he got released, but he accidentally burned his parole while trying to warm up a stranger freezing to death.

Javert- He's a waterbender, however he only uses it in the form of ice bending to imitate the living and fighting style of the earthbenders. His mother was a healer, but he never gained that ability himself. His father was an earthbender, but could mostly bend lava, which was at the time- due to the generall lack of awareness, considered firebending, which he was wrongly imprisoned for. Javert is desperatelly trying to capture Valjean for his crimes, but also due to his desire to be seen and respected on an equal level with his fellow earthbender co-workers (yeah there is some kind of police type of proffesion in this au too).

Fantine- Non-bender who pretended to be a waterbender with the help of her little daughter Cosette, in order to get a job to be able to provide for them both. Once the foreman of the factory Fantine was working in discovered she's a fraud, he sent her away.

Cosette- a prodigy waterbender, helping her mother get the job in the factory by hiding somewhere in the room and waterbend from there. She's allways had a big heart for other types of benders, hovewer later on in her life she became slightly prejudiced towards firebenders, as Valjean unconciouslly kinda projected his self- loathing on her, and due to the fact that Madame Thenardier, who along with her husband adopted Cosette after Fantine's dissmisal from the factory, was a firebender herself and never ceased to use it against the girl. Cosette's waterbending centered itself around plantbending as she grew older, because she never really had the necessity to use it in its raw form after being taken to live with Valjean.

Enjorlas- Airbender who strives to fight for a better life for non- earth benders. He has the "We can't continue to wait for the avatar, we have to do it ourselves" type of mindset. He allways takes action against cruelty if needed, however he's sometimes annoyed, that his air bending doesn't come as usefull in some situations as he would like it to. He is able to consider everyone his companion, no matter their bending type.

Marius- A non-bender, however he still tries to fight by the side of his bender friends. He fell in love with Cosette when he saw the girl as she made a seemingly dead flower in the crease of a sidewalk bloom. After that he tried to make sure he's deffinitely not a bender himself to have better chances with Cosette, and ended up trying to lift rocks with his mind the whole night. Marius is also very displeased by the social injustice that's going on, but he feels like he can't do much about it himself.

ITS JUST A SILLY CONCEPT BUT I'LL KEEP WORKING ON IT (might write or draw a fanfiction type of shit later)

#les mis #les miserables #victor hugo #atla #avatar the last airbender #avatar tlok #cartoons #alternate universe #jean valjean #javert #fantine #cosette #marius pontmercy #enjorlas #my english is not englishing today oops sorry #cool stuff and all #crazy ahh #i love avatar and les mis so nothing is stopping me

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naughtyry · 14 days ago

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“This Is Not a Love Letter” (One Shot)

Summary: What begins as an interrogation feels dangerously close to… something else. This isn’t a love letter. It’s an accident waiting to happen— and someone’s going to break.

Pairing: Mr. Paradox x Fem! Reader

Word count: 1, 567

Warning: None

Author's note: Apologies for some typographical/grammatical errors, English is not my first language, and this is the first time I wrote something again after a very long hiatus (2-3 years ago)... Feel free to write me/ask me a request and such. I hope you enjoy it though!

Time wasn’t supposed to bend around you.

It wasn’t supposed to break either.

But somehow— it did.

You were in the middle of an ordinary moment when it happened. Crossing the street. Laughing at something that wasn’t even that funny.

And then everything stopped.

Not slowed. Not glitched.

Stopped.

The world around you froze like a paused video— people mid-step, raindrops hanging in the air like glass beads. Then came the buzzing. A soft hum of something wrong. And a voice behind you.

“Miss Y/N, You're in violation of the Sacred Timeline.”

You turned just in time to see them.

Two figures in tactical armor, faces cold beneath their helmets. TVA soldiers. One raised what looked like a glowing baton— faintly humming with heat.

“Hands where we can see them. Don’t try to run.”

You blinked. “What the hell is the Sacred Timeline?”

A moment later, everything went black.

When you woke up, you were in a safely closed room that smelled like disinfectant and something old.

You squinted at the glowing orange letters above the door.

TIME VARIANCE AUTHORITY.

You weren’t alone. You had no idea who he was. All you knew was he looked like someone had tried to deep-fry a man and forgot to take him out.

“This is cozy,” he said, tapping his foot like a child on too much sugar. “Like the waiting room from hell. You new here, cell buddy?” the man muttered.

You stared at him. “…What are you?”

He gasped, offended. “You wound me.” he dramatically clutched his chest. “Hit right in the ego. That’s a hate crime where I’m from. Wade Wilson... Walking HR violation. To be honest, I actually don’t know what crime I’ve committed.” he shrugged.

After a while of awkward silence, Wade finally broke the ice that seems to linger in the room. “Sooo…” he said, leaning in, “you die before or after your time spaghetti’d?”

You blinked. “What?”

“Time spaghetti. You know — when you do something dumb, the timeline goes bloop, and suddenly TVA agents show up and ruin your breakfast.” he grinned.

You and Wade got lost in a strange conversation.

You lost track of time in the TVA. They didn’t give you clocks. Just bright lights, beige and orange walls, and even agents who treated you like a walking error code. Every few hours— if you could even call them that— you were moved. Questioned. Monitored.

They didn’t ask why you existed. They just made it clear… you weren’t supposed to.

And then he walked in.

Tall. Precise. Dressed like a fine gentleman who never left his office but still looked like he could ruin your entire timeline with one flick of his hand. He didn’t say his name at first. Just read your file with a look of quiet disdain...

He looked at you. Then at the other occupant. “Of course you’re still here,” he muttered. “Wade Wilson.”

Wade raised a hand. “Hey! You remembered my name! That’s progress, Time Daddy— I mean, Paradox? Isn't that what you call yourself?”

Paradox didn’t flinch. Instead, he glanced at one of the guards and snapped, “Separate cell. Now.”

“Oh come on!” Deadpool groaned as the guards approached. “This is discrimination! You’re just mad I compared your haircut to a fascist pencil case!”

Still, Paradox didn’t blink, instead he gave Wade a glare. “Separate him. Now.”

“Whoa, whoa!” Wade says, raising his hands like a hostage negotiator. “Don’t separate us yet. You haven’t even seen our buddy cop dynamic!”

You smirk. “He’s the disaster. I’m the hostage.”

“And he,” Wade gestures to Paradox, “is the grumpy, emotionally constipated time agent who secretly cares but refuses to admit it.”

Paradox stares blankly. “What in the hell is a ‘buddy cop dynamic’?”

Wade clutches his chest like he’s been shot. “How dare you not know cinema tropes! What do you people do here besides wear brown and bully timelines?”

Paradox slowly turns his head toward you. “Is he always like this?”

You nod solemnly. “It’s like being stuck in a group project with a raccoon who’s read too many Reddit threads.”

Wade, somehow still being dragged by the guard, attempts to high-five you with his foot.

As the guards drag Wade out— feet first, because of course he made it difficult— he yells, “I’LL BE BACK! DON’T FALL IN LOVE WITH HIM WITHOUT ME!”

Paradox stops mid-step. Turns slowly. “What does that even mean?!”

Wade let out a muffled and unintelligible shout as the door slams behind him.

Paradox stared confusingly, he simply watched the door shut close. You’re both left alone in the silence.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, seemingly trying to get his composure.

After a while, he stepped towards your direction like the concept of small talk offended him. With zero fanfare, he dropped a thick file on the table and sat across from you.

No smile. No greeting. Just a cold calculation.

“You’re not a variant. You’re… something else entirely. No origin point. No nexus event. Just raw, unauthorized existence.” he explained.

You raised an eyebrow. “Gee, thanks. Really puts things in perspective.”

He didn’t laugh. Of course he didn’t.

Finally, he looked down at you. His eyes were sharp, assessing.

“You can call me Mr. Paradox. Field Agent. Timeline Enforcement. I handle cases that don’t fit in neat categories.” His tone flattened.

“You’re the messiest file I’ve ever seen.” he added.

You blinked. “And I’m supposed to be flattered, or…?”

He slid a standard incident report across the table toward you, followed by a battered pen like it offended him just to hand it over.

“Fill it out. Honestly. Don’t embellish. Don’t waste my time.” he spoke coldly.

You twirled the pen in your fingers, unimpressed. “And if I refuse?”

“You’ll be processed. Then erased.” he said it so simply. Like ordering black coffee.

So naturally… you did the most immature thing possible.

You filled it out with a doodle of a stick figure being vaporized by a pruning baton, added cartoonishly dramatic flames, and scribbled,

“Screw your Sacred Timeline. And your weird little zappy stick.”

It was petty. But boredom does that to a girl. You added a smiley face for good measure. Then pushed the file across the table and grinned at Mr. Paradox like you’d just won something.

He stared at the page. Clicked his pen once more and picked up the report like it was contagious— and walked out without a word.

You figured that was the end of it. Just another day being erased from existence.

You did not expect a response.

Until the next morning… There it was. Folded neatly under a book on a neat table. A note... clean and smelled like bureaucracy and contempt.

You opened it with one brow raised. And there it was that wrote…

“It’s called a time stick or simply a pruning baton. You’d know that if you read the handbook instead of defacing official reports.”

“Also, your depiction of the TVA uniform is both inaccurate and insulting.”

— Mr. Paradox

You snorted. Then grabbed a napkin and a glitter pen.

“Says the guy who dresses like a sad vending machine.”

— Y/N

You handed the napkin to the TVA soldier assigned and let it be delivered to Mr. Paradox.

The day after, another note.

“This is a standard-issue from TVA. Unlike your wardrobe, which appears to be held together with chewing gum and unresolved trauma.”

— Mr. Paradox

The insults went back and forth for days. Insults became tradition. Banter turned ritual.

You teased. He corrected. You prodded. He cracked— but only a little.

Until one night, you wrote...

“You think about me when I’m not around, don’t you?”

— Y/N

No response. Silence.

You lost hope. You thought he was never gonna send a response again. And so, you let him be.

Not until a full week later, when Wade literally threw it at your face, shouting, “Oh my GOD, just KISS already— he wrote you a flirty essay disguised as an insult. I saw it. I CRIED. Do you people even know how unresolved your tension is?”

Wade strolled in like he owned the place, which, to be fair, he often acted like he did. “Buckle up, baby girl,” he announced, throwing a folded note at your head. “Because Romeo finally wrote Juliet back.”

You blinked. “What—?” I stammered. “How did you even got in here?” I raised my brow in confusion as to why he’s walking free.

“Doesn’t matter.” he cut off, instead sprinting closer to you. “He cracked,” Wade whispered, clutching his chest. “And I was there for it. I’m emotionally invested. You two are my favorite enemies-to-lovers multiverse masterpiece.” Wade grinned widely before handing you the note formally.

You opened the note. The handwriting was familiar—precise, clean, a little obsessive. Very him.

You read the note carefully… slowly. And sure enough, there wrote,

“For the record, beings like you aren’t supposed to be this persistent. Or this distracting. Stop writing back. Or don’t. I don’t know. Just… don’t get erased.”

– Still not a love letter. Mr. P.

Your chest tightened. Your stomach did a somersault you’d never allow out loud.

Wade was already in the corner, pretending to sob into a bag of popcorn he’d absolutely stolen from another timeline.

“I knew it,” he sniffled. “The emotionally repressed ones always fall the hardest.” Wade muttered while pretending to dab a tear.

You read the note again. And again. Then folded it carefully, like it mattered.

Which… maybe it did.

You didn’t smile. Not exactly. But something about the weight in your chest got a little lighter.

You reached for a pen.

And started your next reply.

Note: Please do not copy, or repost this to other platforms without my permission, thank you! 💜

- naughtyry

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fodlansbestmom · 12 days ago

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@singulos

Arkon was not certain how Sothis would react, but he had hope it would be received well since they had talked about him blending in. He approached the goddess from behind and gently put his now smaller hand on her shoulder to get her attention. He hoped she would recognize him despite him being a fraction of his normal size.

There’s a start given at the hand on her shoulder and she whirled around. Oh! She hadn’t even heard him approach! Sothis relaxed a bit after a few moments but her heartbeat remained quick.

“I.. oh! Ah.. Arkon!”

There’s something different she noticed immediately, emerald hues scanned his much smaller form. She’s quiet a few moments. He’s.. smaller. Confusion crossed her features.

“You’re… smaller. How?”

#singulos #answered prayers;#time bending in progress: ic

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neiptune · 1 year ago

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a series of (un)fortunate drivers

cw: 1k wc, gender neutral reader, fake dating trope, roommate to lovers, they're both idiots (affectionate). sponsored by the ever generous @yellow-sword-lily who decided to trust my writing and contribute to the wonderful @ficsforgaza initiative!

“Does it hurt?”

Atsumu is met with a familiar, stubborn silence that prompts an exasperated sigh. You’re being awfully quiet for someone who’s chest is pressed to his back, close enough he can smell the shampoo that actually acts as shampoo (he learned that, apparently, a 3-in-1 body wash is indicative of not knowing how to take care of his own needs on approximately day two of living with you).

He knows you’re perfectly capable of not uttering a single word the entire way home, just as you know he’s keeping his pace slow to minimize your bouncing and reduce the discomfort to the best of his ability. It makes you want to strangle him.

“Blink once if it hurts” Atsumu turns to the side and his caramel gaze takes yours by surprise for just a second before you decide to resolutely focus on a specific spot on his shoulder.

“You’re the most ridiculous person I know” he balances you better against him with a small hop and you swallow the petty comeback already dancing on the tip of your tongue.

Truth is, it does hurt. Your ankle is swollen, probably about to bruise, an annoying circumstance that could’ve been well avoided if not for a couple of drivers that worked against your luck to progressively fuck your evening back-to-back: a) Hinata convincing you that a pair of chunky sneakers would be an excellent investment, b) the decision to wear said inappropriately chunky sneakers, c) Atsumu ignoring how excessively flirty the woman at the bar was being (one can estimate the impressive size of his biceps without necessarily squeezing his arm multiple times), d) the spirit of an immature six year old that decided to suddenly possess you at the sight, causing you to make up a dumb excuse to storm out before Suna and everyone else could even get there to begin with.

The heated march was soon and quite harshly interrupted by your ankle turning in an awkward way, causing you to even more awkwardly tumble onto the goddamn sidewalk right as a bottle blond pro athlete was forced to drop everything (drinks, friends, excessively flirty woman) to chase you down the street.

You insisted you could’ve walked (not true) or called an uber (also not true, you forgot your phone on the kitchen island) but, with the utmost care and deaf to your objections, Atsumu collected the things scattered on the asphalt the same way confusing thoughts are dispersed around your brain still, checked your ankle with furrowed brows and sentenced you to a piggyback ride home.

He refuses to let you slip off his back as he kicks off his shoes, rolls his eyes when you scoff and makes his way to the couch by which he carefully bends down to gently place you against the throw pillows.

“Don’t” Atsumu swats your hand away when you attempt to lean forward “I got ya” he rolls your sage green linen pants all the way up to the knee and attentively unties your shoes. You suck in a sharp breath between your teeth when he removes the sneaker, warm hand supporting your leg by the calf. A fluffy pillow is placed on the coffee table and underneath your foot, an admonishment to hold still mumbled with affection as he disappears into the kitchen to rummage through your freezer.

“I can do it” you accept the ibuprofen but protest firmly when he sits on the table, ice pack in hand.

“I know ya can” Atsumu offers a smile “but let me”

Defeated, you hiss at the contact: the skin feels so tender even grazing it with a finger would hurt. He knows, he’s had his fair share of injuries throughout his career.

Atsumu is more observant than what people give him credit for. He knows exactly when everything changed, the night that shifted the precarious equilibrium of your roommate relationship. It wasn’t when he suggested you’d fake a relationship for a while, just to get his PR team to shut the fuck up and stop trying to pair him up with some unknown model just for the sake of it. Can’t, I already have a partner. You were happy to accomodate his request: some pics for social media, a few shots of intertwined fingers and steaming bowls of ramen. Always his treat. Atsumu promised he’d take over the cleaning activities you hated the most for two entire months in return. You would’ve been free from dusting, scrubbing the bathtub and washing dishes (he’d insisted on laundry too but you simply weren’t going to risk all your whites turning pink).

No, it was Suna’s birthday that changed everything. The night you both had a little too much of that fancy wine and ended up sharing a drunken kiss with you perched in his lap, eager fingers in his hair, kissing with little to non existent restraint. It felt so good, so right, he could only think he wanted to do it again, when sober. And now, after acting like that never even happened for an entire week, your little tantrum makes him think that perhaps you’d like to do it again too.

“I think we should stop, ‘Tsumu” you murmur, eyes kept low when he looks up from your ankle.

“What are we stoppin’?”

“The whole thing. Tell your team you’ll do what they want”

He cocks his head, seemingly imperturbable. ‘Samu would be the only one capable of sensing how fast his heart is actually beating. “Why would I do that?”

“Why would you not do that?” you finally meet his stoic gaze “let’s just stop now before anybody’s feelings get hurt, okay?”

“Ya think I’d do that?”

“I didn’t say…”

“What are you saying, then?” Atsumu leans forward to gently grab your jaw, forces you to look at him “all I’m hearing is you’re worried about yer feelings. Whatever we are going to do with mine, right?”

You jump a little at the unexpected words and he rolls his eyes. It’s just so typical of you to be all lost in your own head, too buried in futile concerns to notice just how unnecessary they are.

“Let me tell ya what I think we should actually do” Atsumu makes sure the ice pack stays in place or is at least balanced enough to stay on as he slides from the coffee table onto the couch “I think you should stop assuming I’d be interested in anyone who's not you” he offers a grin that suppresses your heated remonstrance before you have the chance to voice it “and I should take you out on a proper date. Maybe to one of those museums ya love so much. Blink once if you agree?”

He’s ridiculous. Maybe ‘Samu’s initial warning “it will rub off on ya” wasn’t such a senseless prediction after all, because you do blink. Slow, deliberate. And Atsumu smiles the most beautiful smile: it’s much better than the ones that win him magazine covers and sparkly photoshoots. This one’s all yours.

You lean forward first, the ice pack slips from your ankle to the floor.

#atsumu x reader #atsumu miya x reader #atsumu x you #fics for gaza

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cobrakaisb · 2 years ago

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free estapa

“you’re coming tonight right?” he asks her through the phone. she laughs, holding the phone to her ear with her shoulder as she continues to rummage through her clothes for an outfit. “yes mark. i’d told i’d be there.” he lets out a sigh of relief. “meet me after the game, please baby?”

when you arrive, the stands are packed with students, all decked out in blue and maize. you manage to snag a seat on the end, while you search for mark on the ice. finally, you find his jersey, number 94, and smile when you see him laughing with his friend. he hasn’t noticed you yet, but that’s okay; you’re just here to see him play.

as the game progresses, you realize that mark spends a lot of time in the penalty box. you huff as the ref drags him over there again, for the second time this game. immediately, the chants ring out, “free estapa!” then you’re shouting too, copying everyone around you, and mark looks up to see you. your eyes are so bright under the lights and he swoons.

“they let you out? i’m surprised,” you joke when he leaves the locker room. he shakes his head, “shut up.” he bends down a little, leaving a kiss on your cheek as your arms wrap around his neck. “it’s too bad, i would’ve paid a hefty fine for your bail babe.” he smiles, leaning his forehead against yours. “thank god i have you huh?” “damn right!”

#oth au #oth au with mark #mark estapa #mark estapa x reader #mark estapa blurb #umich hockey #cobrakaisb writing

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skythighs · 1 year ago

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Calista's Dream: Blood on my Tongue

I am just pushing this story out like it's nothing. That's the power of Feyd Rautha Harkonnen because I've literally never posted any of my writing until this. I'm so inspired ✨️ I hope you all are enjoying the story progress once again future chapters will contain sexual content so 18+ please.

Warnings:blood consumption

Word count:2.8k

Chapter 2

The next morning was slow. It was customary to sleep in after a welcoming feast given the guests usually over indulged in much wine. I was just thankful for a brief reprieve before our official courting began. My hand was wrapped neatly by Dr. Yueh last night. It stung whenever I tried to flex my hand slightly. I’m still not sure what compelled me to slice my palm just because he requested it. At the moment it seemed like the right thing to do but upon further reflection, I think it was a mistake. I only showed him that if he insisted I would bend to his will, because that is exactly what I did. I gave him what he asked for. I gave him my blood and he loved it. I can still recall the look in his predatory eyes when he saw my bright red blood coat the dagger. For a moment I thought he might lick it clean but thankfully he did not.

“My lady, it’s time for your promenade with the Na Baron.”

I wash my face at my vanity trying to mentally prepare for the day ahead.

“He also requested a tour of the training yard. He needs to train daily, Lady Calista.”

“Of course thank you for informing me.”

With that she readied me for the mid day meal.

Yet again in the great hall Feyd Rautha and my father are seated identically to last night. They rise to greet me, but this time Feyd pulls out my chair without interruption from my father. I kiss my father on his cheek the same way I have every morning since I was a girl and he strokes my hair affectionately. Once I take my seat I greet The Na Baron with a simple

“Good Morning.”

My mother looks on with a sincere smile nodding her head in greeting. Her love had always been more reserved, more private than my fathers affections, but I knew she would do anything for me just as he would.

Na Baron Harkonnen seems taken aback by the display of affection between father and daughter and thus does not relay a ‘Good morning’ in return. The food is quickly delivered and everyone begins eating without another word spoken. In order to break the ice Cali faces Feyd.

“I was informed you wanted to see the training yard. One of the maids mentioned training daily back on Giedi Prime. Is that true?”

He cuts his eyes to her youthful face and damp hair.

“Yes, it’s true. Why do you ask?”

“I also train daily. Perhaps we could-”

“-Cali, no I don’t think that's a good idea.” Said Leto.

“I would be honored, my lady.” said Feyd.

Jessica and Leto looked apprehensive.

“Father? Is it alright?”

He nodded his approval, reluctant to offend the Na Baron.

An hour later I was dressed in my training garb which consisted of tight yet stretchy britches and a white peasant top tucked in neatly to the britches. I knocked on Feyd Rautha’s chamber in three sharp raps. He opened the door only a crack before seeing me and widening the gap.

“Are you ready Na Baron?”

He nodded once stepping out of the room and closing the door behind him. They walked silently together with him just a few short paces behind her, out of her peripheral vision.

“Our training yard has an awning so even when it rains we can enjoy the fresh air. The indoor area can get stuffy at times.” I was actually looking forward to sparring with him. I was eager to see if the rumors and gossip about him being a brutal animal were true. I felt a thrill deep down at the thought of it; seeing him for the beast he was rumored to be.

“Here we are.” I pushed open the large double doors where some of the men were training under Duncans supervision. He nodded to me acknowledging mine and Na Baron Harkonnen's presence, but he did not approach.

“Where would you like to start? Hand to hand perhaps?”

I offered hoping he would agree.

“Are you sure you’re capable?” He gestures to my wrapped hand that I had somehow forgotten about.

“It’ll be fine. It’s just sparring right?”

“Right.”

We make our way to an available mat standing on opposite sides of the circle. His eyes are watching me more closely than usual which seems impossible. He gestures for me to make the first move. So I approach him slowly and deliberately. I strike out at his neck before he swiftly dodges the blow countering with a blow of his own which lands on my left side. I expected him to be a bit slower given his stature, but I was wrong. Noted.

We trade blows back and forth, none landing. I was small and quick but he was using his size against me. He tried cornering me so I couldn't retreat before he grabbed hold of me. At the last second he was able to grab me and bring my back to his front. He wrapped his arms around my middle. For a moment we just breathe a bit worn out from the previous events. We had gone on for nearly ten minutes just grappling no one landing a single blow since his very first attack.

“You're fast my lady. I almost couldn’t catch you... almost.” He whispered right in my ear.

“You’re surprisingly fast for someone of your size, Na Baron. I’ll admit I was expecting slow but powerful blows.” I try to face him but his grip doesn’t allow for it.

“You adapted quickly. I was only able to land the first blow, I’m impressed, but you’re holding back.”

I try to turn to face him but he refuses to let me out of his grip.

“We’re just sparring are we not? Do you want me to unleash my full capabilities?”

“I will if you will.” He whispers yet again in my ear.

With that I fling my head back catching him while he leaned into my ear to speak. The blow is enough for him to momentarily lose his grip and I use it to my advantage striking him in his gut with my elbow and moving out of his reach.

He smiles a black toothed smile at me, and I feel pride briefly before he charges at me full force and before I can even think he slams me on the foam mat knocking the breath from my body. Now at the advantage he straddles me at my waist totally trapping my legs. I try to use the menuvors Gurney taught me to use against bigger opponents but he pins my hands flush against the mat earning the attention of Duncan and the other soldiers present.

I buck my hips trying with all my might to knock him off kilter, but it’s all for nothing. He’s too big, even with my years of training my strength will never be a true match to his. His eyes are even brighter than last night as I fight with everything inside of me to free myself. I manage to slip my bandaged hand out of his grasp from the sheer amount of sweat that has gathered there, and I slap him across the face with my full power. He grips my injured hand again this time squeezing it, pulling a whimper from me. I feel my cut reopen and he seems to notice this as well because he hasn’t looked away from my hand yet. I stop fighting and watch him intently as he removes the bandage exposing a small trickle of blood pooling on my palm.

Hunger. That’s what I see in his eyes right now and it frightens me to my core. I heard tales from Gurney that some Harkonnen partake in cannibalism, but I never thought my betrothed would be one. Slowly and with all the fluidity of a snake he leans down and licks the pool of blood into his onyx mouth. His tongue startlingly pink compared to his black teeth makes me gasp. I freeze in fear and watch him while still pinned down beneath him as he licks my hand free of any blood that has gathered. Once he finishes his task he slowly rises off of me. I continue to lie on the floor shocked until Duncan Idaho kneels beside me.

“Cali, are you hurt?” He asked as he looked me over, but I couldn't pull my eyes away from Feyd Rautha.

“I’m fine Duncan, we were just sparring.”

Who am I trying to convince? Every man here just saw him toss me around like a rag doll and lick my blood clean from my palm and now he’s staring at me like he wanted to come back over here and devour me bones and all. Duncan pulls me up to my feet, hands on my shoulders as he waits for me to shake off whatever spell I was under.

“Are you sure you’re okay?” He persists.

I finally break my trance and look away from Feyd Rautha. I nod my head looking up at Duncan. He was like an older brother to me, somehow older but less mature. But here and now there was no playfulness in his eyes, only deep deep concern for me.

“I’m fine, don’t worry about it. I’m gonna go get this taken care of.”

I gesture to my throbbing hand. Duncan nods at me and releases me from his grasp.I find myself looking at Feyd again, but now he only has eyes for Duncan.

“You will take her place, Atreides' pet.” He spits at Idaho.

That was the last thing I heard as I left the training room face red from all the pitying looks from the men there. He made a fool of me in front of them all. This is what my father was worried about I suppose. I just proved to everyone I’m nothing but a weak little girl.

I sit totally tuning out Dr. Yueh as he asks me about my wound. I couldn’t focus on a word he said. I felt so exhausted and weak physically. My father wanted me to be able to hold my own when this day came, but Feyd proved I was nothing compared to him. How would I survive this? What will my father say?

Later in the day I was soaking in a warm bath spiraling down a rabbit hole of self deprecating thoughts. I was nothing compared to him. If I hadn't been born so small. If I hadn't been born a girl. My back was stiff from the force of being slammed. I realize now, no one had ever handled me so roughly. No one had ever used their full strength on me before. Not Gurney, not Duncan, no one. The thought alone makes tears pool in my eyes. My own perfect little world has been shattered by the truth. I’m not the future Duke. I’m the future Duchess. The very taste is bitter on my tongue.

“I can feel your bad mood from the chamber door.”

I gasp, clutching my heart.

“Mother, you scared me half to death. When did you get here?”

My mothers emerald orbs stare deep into my chestnut ones.

“Speak plainly Calista, your father has already been informed of what transpired today in the training yard.”

I cringe to myself, holding my eyes closed to stop the tears from falling. My mother hated when I cried. I hear her move about the bathing room grabbing something before I feel her gently brush my hair.

“Talk to me, my girl.”

“He bested me. We agreed to stop holding back and he beat me so quickly- I- I can’t face him again.”

“Ah, your pride is wounded. So much of your father is in you my darling.”

“It’s not just pride, mother. I was- I was afraid of him.”

The silence is loud.

“You were afraid? Why?”

“He overpowered me so quickly, but I fought hard, so hard, and still he would not be moved by me.”

“You’re hiding something. I feel it.”

“He tasted my blood. He looked like a man starving, and I felt such an unfamiliar fear reach my heart.”

Jessica remains silent and just listens as she diligently brushes.

“He wanted to devour me.”

“Shhh. Don’t cry. I think perhaps what he exhibited was sexual attraction for you.”

“No Gurney told me about cannibalism amongst House Harkonnen. What sort of normal person licks another human being's blood.”

“Calista, blood can be...erotic to some. I highly doubt Feyd Rautha is a cannibal. I think he desires you and you brought that forth while sparring today.”

I open my eyes considering her words.

“I didn’t think of that.”

“You are innocent, I wouldn’t expect such a thing to cross your mind. You can use that desire to your advantage, Cali.”

“Yes, I suppose I can.”

There's an awkward silence before lady Jessica speaks up.

“Why didn’t you use the voice?” There was a tension in her shoulders.

“Because fear is the mind killer. I couldn’t even think.” She admits in shame.

“Do not be ashamed. Let this be a lesson to you Calista, for if you are ever in harm's way your greatest enemy is yourself.”

“I understand.”

“Get out of the tub. It’s time to entertain your betrothed, he still expects a promenade before the evening meal.”

With that she pulls out her dress of choice while leaving Cali to finish her bath in peace.

There was a brief break in the rain clouds so I decided to take Feyd Rautha to the gardens before we went to the evening meal together. Beyond the garden was the rocky seashore and Feyd seemed transfixed on the water that lay beyond that.

“Let's take a closer look.”

I boldly grab his hand tugging him along near the ragged rocks edge. There was a rocky beach about five feet below.

“What is Giedi Prime like? What can I expect?”

“Nothing like this. In fact it’s the opposite of this. No lush grass or tall standing trees, and certainly no body of water as enchanting as this.”

He sounds harsh in his delivery, but it doesn’t deter me.

“What of your family? Are they looking forward to our union?”

“They are.”

He doesn’t elaborate or even look my way. He simply stares out as the waves crash below us on the rocky shore. The mist from the seaspray damps my hair and I decide we should leave so we aren't soaked through while we eat.

Tonight's meal passed by without much incident unlike last nights and I’m thankful the day is over when I climb into my bed. Physically and mentally exhausted from the last two days.

That night my dreams were plagued by sand dunes, and the sound of a baby crying with all their strength. As I walked along the sand dune I found myself heavily with child and the crying was coming from within me, only I could hear my son cry out. Feyd appeared suddenly in my dream and my son's cries stopped abruptly as he kneeled before me speaking calmly to my large midsection. He even stroked me lovingly there on his knees. A kick from within my womb drags me out of my sleep and I shoot up out of my bed. It felt so strong. So real. This was no dream, this was a vision. The very first one since my childhood. A son? Why was this so familiar to me and yet so foreign. How did I know the life inside of me was male? I don't know how I know, but he was soothed by Feyd Rautha’s presence. The child in my womb recognized his fathers voice even now when he hasn’t yet been conceived.

In the weeks that followed Feyd Rautha pulled away from me. He would not engage in idle chit chat no matter how hard I tried to interact with him. His eyes were dead again even when looking at me, and some part of me didn’t like that. He was clearly just going through the motions of courting because it was requested but some part of me wanted us to know one another. Ever since the vision when I saw another side of him, I've longed to see more. He was tender in my vision, stroking my heavily pregnant womb gently and with great care. I wanted to see that side of him again, but who knew how long that would take. However, I resigned myself to the fact that I would indeed be marrying a stranger despite my best attempts. He had even gone so far as to avoid me during training. Only arriving while I still slept peacefully and leaving as soon as I appeared.

Taglist: @mamawiggers1980

#calista atreides #feyd rautha #harkonnen #feyd rautha harkonnen #feyd smut #feyd rautha x atreides oc #feyd rautha x oc #calista's Dream #dune part 2 #dune part two #dune fanfiction

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chezzywezzy · 6 days ago

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Yandere L Lawliet (6/6)

WC: 3k

R’s heart was racing with an abundance of cloudy overthinking that it led even L to misinterpret it all; how her cheeks and lips flushed; her eyelids were fluttering in a daze; her physique bended to his as though entirely malleable; her breath, caught on every movement yet blending to match his own huffs.

L was not sure of himself for when he had dived so far off the deep end for the woman - but it was far too late to take it all back. Despite his instincts, he had been selfless all of his life, so truly a man of his stature had found R for the sole purpose of indulging in selfish desires.

He had never been so disarmed, so vulnerable - all logic and caution thrown to the wind. He had hardly been aware of the surroundings as his body so naturally weaved R toward the elevator.

Much to R’s chagrin, it was not even to her own room, a place she found comfort in amongst this hellish scenario. As the elevator door opened, it was the bare bedroom that hardly looked touched that L claimed. The bed was plush and there was only a small lamp, bedside table, and laptop.

“I have never been so uncertain of this outcome in my life,” L panted with a hint of embarrassment. “Otherwise, I would have done more research of the various effects of one’s environment for this sort of… event.”

R blinked back into reality, realizing that he was quick to flip the switch of the lamp on. She almost felt shellshocked as her hands became mortally aware of how clammy L’s hand was against her’s, yet so tight, as though she’d tear away and run at any moment. How nervous he seemed by the way his shoulders rolled.

L could have had this with anyone naturally if he’d tried, R thought bitterly. But L was akin to Kira. He was childish, stubborn, and hated losing.

His eyes returned to her, eyeing her carefully up and down. Although his expression was neutral and his eyes clouded with desire, the tenseness his body held betrayed the insecurity of the unknown. He had spent time researching the ins and outs of this event, but having it present itself with what felt like suddenness…

It was like an ice bath, shocking his system.

Smut detailed below

R released a quiet gasp as L made a swift tug at her wrists. The woman fell flush against the mattress, sinking into the comforter. It seemed that L had decided against overthinking as the evening continued. The rain pattered against the glass harshly and their shadows danced along the ceiling as L was quick to lower himself on top of her.

His weight was comfortably crushing on top of her, and she felt every breath from the depths of his stomach and every rippling muscle twitch. They held a brief and intense eye contact as L seemed almost entranced by R’s dampened, doe-eyed features.However, he was quick to progress, his fingers nimbly prodding at the ends of her top.

He had always been one to feel more comfortable in clothes - but as he became acutely aware of how tight and strained his pants felt, coupled with how R’s skirt rode up her thighs, he wanted nothing but to be done with clothing.

The movements were rushed, eager, and sloppy. R remained quiet, trembling from under ever touched as he was quick to discard her shirt before gracing her with brief distance. She almost felt hypnotized by the surprising physique he held underneath his insistently mundane outfit.

L’s body was slim and toned, catered perfectly to what R had always been attracted to in the past - had L known this about her? How irrevocably good-looking she found the dark happy trail that led into his jeans, or how proportionally stunning it was when his arms curved in a way that betrayed his intensely strong biceps? How his fingers plucked delicately below the midsection at his jeans to reveal a surprisingly well-trimmed lower half.

He was trembling, despite the air of confidence he tried to portray, feeling the prodding and judgmental eyes of his lover. It felt like a willing kindness of her when R, maintaining eye contact, unzipped her skirt and allowed it to flutter to the ground.

The man had seen R’s body numerous amounts of times through a monitor screen - but a camera had never been capable of picking up the nuances of her body, the texture or the feel of her skin… it was a magical experience bestowed upon a man as ill-intentioned as himself.

L’s heart hammered in his chest as R pulled him by the waist to resume his position on top of her. L tried to ignore how her eyes betrayed the act she portrayed; if anything, it turned him on further - L controlled every aspect of her so seamlessly.

His own personal heaven. The reward he had earned from the years spent saving lives.

He gulped sniffed at her neck, tongue lashing out to collect it between his teeth. L was allowing himself personal branding upon the woman, trimmed finger nails roaming across her naked body. They pinched and fumbled with her breasts, and L was almost startled when she evoked a small, unwilling moan.

Electricity escaped down his hips and he became so very aware of how close it was to her entrance. Almost panicked desire flushed through the man further, and with what sense he could, he tore away from the woman and raised her legs.

R released a squeal and covered her mouth, observing in anticipation as his dark hair blocked the view of her lower half. A jolt of pleasure rolled across her body and a quiet mewl accordingly escaped when a tongue swiped across her clit slowly, as though experimenting.

Her legs tightened and squeezed against his head and she couldn’t look any further, feeling L’s lovesick eyes observe her. His hands grasped harshly at her tights, so much so that it would leave imprints.One hand twisted around to push her thigh against the bed, and R could barely register when his fingers pierced her insides.

She couldn’t help it when his name escaped her lips in a shivering stutter.

The man froze momentarily, all except for his back which seemed to curve and shudder from the sound. It brought brief clarity to R, but it did not last long when his touches became focused and intense.

R tried to cover up the moans of pleasure that escaped as L’s tongue kept swiping and his fingers curved and prodded. The feeling was so extreme and sensitive it made R question the dignity of previous lovers who’s names she did not recall and faces were blurred in that instance. Her hand grasped at his hair, tugging lightly yet painlessly in hoping for any sense of yield.

She hadn’t expected him to care or notice, but in a moment’s notice, he had regained his position and had pinned that hand above her head. R felt so flustered as beads of sweat perforated from her forehead, her body seemingly under the control of sexual whims.

L felt the same, so enraptured by the sounds of her moans that it was only her trembling fingers drawing attention to himself once more. And as turned on as he’d been through a monitor, it did not beat the sensations that he felt in that moment.

If only for a brief moment, he recalled research on the subject, prodding himself further. He could not prevent the unconscious thrust he offered in the moment following. His body melted onto her, elbows wobbling with satisfaction as he caged the woman in. R had such a haze over her eyes and no longer seemed to mute the sounds that escaped her.

“How could a woman like you exist…” L muttered passionately, nose nuzzling against the shell of her ear. “And how could you belong to me…?”

~~~

Smut section concluded

“Tell me, R, has there ever been a time where you did not love everyone so fiercely and unconditionally, or were you born this way?”

Apparently, it was the latter.

R blinked away his voice that clouded her thoughts, observing the slowly decreasing timer on the oven. She had fallen for the fantasy swiftly over the last year, Misa falling into nothing but a memory. She recalled how L had not even cared to stick around for Kira’s execution.

“It does not concern me too much, R. You were always a much suitable prize.”

Sometimes she was concerned for her mental health. At first, R had become complicit with ease, and then she began seeing the positive notes of her environment: how clearly L had stalked her Pinterest account and decided a rustic stone home in the British countryside was what she desired; how he had always granted her freedom to do or go as she please (although that tended to be fun dates or errands for the household); how L was more of a captive to her whims than she ever was to his.

At some point, it all had riddled down to becoming a genuine relationship, if not for the odd quirks and career the man had yet to break free of.

And so, there she stood, fishing the hot tray out of the oven and setting it on top. It was growing late in the evening, but L had texted an exact time for when he’d arrive home with ‘good news,’ as he always did. Their lives found a rhythm that once R would have been far angrier and embarrassed about.

But as far as Stockholm Syndrome was, it felt far easier to fall into with a doting puppy of a man who provided a comfortable and luxurious life as apposed to one who would trap her in a basement and never see the light of day.

At least, that’s what she often focused on.

R prodded at the baked goods just as she heard the front door open from a room away. Her heart skipped a beat of excitement, but she tried to hide her embarrassed smile with intent focus on cooling the sweet treats.

L’s heart skipped the same beat as he entered the kitchen, eyes taking in the mundane sight that brought him such joy. R in a small apron and pulling off some oven mitts, humming to herself with flushed cheeks.

As calculated as every step had been along the way, it all fell into place much faster and much more naturally than he could have expected. Even a woman driven by love and passion could not help but fall when the world was served to her on a platter. And yet, instead of choosing independence with it, she became dedicated to him.

An unexpected outcome that gave him far larger amounts of unanticipated joy. She could have gotten a degree, a job, slept around as she pleased - and yet, R had stopped worrying about the boundaries and control L held over Misa’s life and indulged in the fantasy of mundane life and normality.

R was perfect. So that was why it was easy to decide the rest of his life and bury it all, even the fact that he occasionally felt guilty about hiding from her: Misa had killed herself mere days after Light’s execution and R’s sudden disappearance.

“My favorites,” L muttered gleefully as he stood behind the woman and wrapped his arms around her waist. His head lay on her’s exuberantly and he cherished the change of her body position to press lightly against him. He released a satisfied hum as he sank into her.

L adorned a different t-shirt and a darker pair ofd jeans than normal. Slowly, R had corrupted him with desires of conformity without saying anything. Although lifelong patterns were hard to break free of, he cared about how others would perceive him in public and wished to become a man who looked deserving to be at her side.

“Of course, my dear,” R sighed contently. “They are still a little warm, though.. what was the news you mentioned?”

L smiled sweetly and turned R to face him, quick to place a quick kiss to her forehead. Even after all this time, the notion caused a blush to coat her cheeks as she grabbed at the edges of his t-shirt expectantly.

“I have chosen my successor and relinquished my position to them, as I have plenty means of financial stability,” he hummed happily. “I am not certain as to what I should do with my life now other than live it with you, as money will never be a problem with my various investments, though.”

R blinked in surprise before a smile broke onto her face. “And that means you will be safe now, right?”

“For the most part, yes. I suppose I will have all the time in the world to indulge in the hobbies you enjoy now.”

“You retired for me, L?” R stuttered in awe, trying to diminish how her heart warmed from the thought.

“Of course,” L stated, as though it were the most obvious decision one could ever make. His grip around her hips tightened with pleasantness. There was something so heartwarming about the activities he’d once scorned others due to their dull nature; but he had grown to admire it all, as the crucial key was not the activity but the person who was present.

“What would you like for me to do now?” L inquired cautiously, brows furrowed as he thought through the answers she could give.

“Um, well, I suppose the next step is to meet my family,” R chuckled coyly. “They’ve been other worried, after all. I’m sure meeting you would ease their concerns about how my life has gone.”

A blush met L’s cheeks at the thought - yes, that was only the natural progression to make. And then a wedding, a honeymoon, a kid or two, and a lifetime of travel and an eventual retirement, even if that may extend further beyond what was naturally expected amongst humans.

Yes. That would do nicely.

“I can make arrangements, then,” he agreed with a curt nod. “I would enjoy that.”

“I’m glad… I love you, L," R giggled, wrapping her arms around his shoulders.

What followed was the abandonment of the baked goods as L desired to fulfill another hunger.

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