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fadingdaggerr · 6 months

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Hi!! I was wondering if you could write a fluff Melissa x reader, where R is a new teacher and shes got this sick motorcycle and everybody thinks she's super cool and badass, and Mel's absolutely head over heels and gets all nervous when R is around, and when R eventually realizes it she starts doing things on purpose to get Mel all flustered.

With like A LOT of fluff.

You can maybe make it little spicy too, or not.

Idk you do whatever you prefer.

know i’m alive (18+, minors dni)

pairing: melissa schemmenti x gn!reader

summary: request above! | 5.8k

includes: the dating but not really sort of trope, but of ooc!melissa i’m sorry, partially unedited again im sorry

warnings: sexual innuendo, alcohol consumption (brief), making out/kissing, smut (fingering, oral, mel receiving), body worship?, aftercare

note: the bike referenced is a harley-davidson 1992 daytona, one of my personal fav models. i grew up in a biker family so this was cathartic. also the temperatures referenced in fahrenheit are roughly the 10-20°c range, hope that’s helpful :)

It’s become a sort of routine: get to work, drop your things off, get coffee, make Melissa blush, teach, do prep, watch Melissa try to hide a smile, go home, repeat. You can’t help yourself, getting the woman, who will always be the toughest in any room she’s in, riled up with fluttering lashes. Shocked faces from across the room didn’t help with the ego you were steadily growing with each interaction.

The first day you were at Abbott, she pointedly ignored you, despite constantly having an eye on you. What you once thought was suspicion over a new person near the kids, though sort of true, was more of a curiosity. A new third grade teacher walked into her school, wearing an oversized denim jacket and old Chucks, how was she supposed to feel? Her harsh glares and eagle eyes softened, and you started to see a more bashful side of the woman. It was only until Ava had the balls to say that Melissa’s behavior was very not Melissa, that you noticed that only you could evoke this side of her.

Since day one, the redhead has had an interest in you, not that she would ever verbalize it. Breathlessness has become a common feeling every time you come in with the sleeves of your sweater rolled up and rings adorning your fingers, making her focus shift and half the time she doesn’t hear a word you say, just following the gold bands that catch the light as you speak animatedly. Melissa longs for the day you got close enough and she could pull you in by the necklace you wear, the same that dangles in a taunt when you lean into her space. In the brief moments you’re alone, there’s a sense of calm that comes over both of you. The need to keep up a bravado drops, and you can indulge yourself in her presence. She’s lost count of how many times you casually dropped a gorgeous or beautiful instead of using her name, and how she has to fight turning when you say either in casual conversation, not just to her. All you know is that her wide, surprised eyes are all the motivation you need to keep it up.

—☽—

It’s bitter cold as you walk into Abbott, finding yourself nearly running to the main entrance before your eyes begin to water from the nipping winds. Reprieve comes in the form of the front lobby, leaning against it to catch your breath and shrug off your jacket to let the warmer air rid you of goosebumps. With your belongings dropped off in your classroom, it’s easy to start moving towards the lounge, knowing you saw a silver car that belonged to a certain redhead.

The voice of Jim Gardener is all there is when you enter, Barbara having, no doubt, told them to shut their mouths while her ‘second favorite man’ was speaking, Gerald also ranking number one in his wife’s heart. Grabbing your personal mug from the shelf, you pour a cup of unfortunate coffee as you watch Melissa through your periphery. She used to sit in one of the chairs, no room for someone to place themselves next to her. However, once you started, you noticed she moved to the couch, where no one but you was brave enough to sit.

Walking slowly to your spot, you gently sip the coffee that threatens to spill over the sides before setting it on the table. Lowering yourself, you sit purposefully closer to Melissa than a typical coworker would. Not one shuffle away or look of discomfort comes of it, it almost makes you grin. As the weather comes on, and Jim is no longer on screen, voices start to fill the room. You throw your arm back to the back of the couch as leverage to push yourself forward, leaning into Melissa’s space as the two-week broadcast appears on screen.

Her attention on you is not missed, neither is Barbara’s, who you already know is giving Melissa a look of bewilderment. The dusty pink that paints her cheeks with every interaction between you has quickly become your favorite color. It’s a struggle and a half to keep your eyes on the screen, but the temperatures being in the fifties and sixties starting tomorrow made you so excited that it didn’t even matter. Instantly, your mind is whirling with plans for the second the final bell rings and you can run out the door.

When the news goes to commercial, you sit back, keeping your arm behind Melissa’s shoulders. The warmth radiating off of her has your mind begging for you to shift your arm just a touch closer, to wrap your arm around her, but so far playing it safe has been working in gaining her trust. She can’t help it, green eyes falling onto you as she tries to decipher your move, hoping to catch something in your eyes that tells her what this was between you. All she gets is a little smirk that is half-hidden by a sip of coffee from an orange mug.

Melissa catches on quickly to your happier mood, finding the joy you exuded, that seemingly came from nowhere, to be adorable. She can’t even believe that word dared to enter her vocabulary. Your typical flirty remarks don’t make an appearance, just a serene smile on your face and a wink to Melissa when you catch her eyes scanning over your face.

As the last kids get into their dad’s truck, you find yourself practically skipping back to your room to quickly gather your things. With the speed in which you move and the utter state of focus you are in, you don’t notice Melissa’s little smile as she sees you move with obvious excitement as you leave the building. She decidedly ignores the little thought that you may be all giddy to see someone else, and maybe she will continue to ignore it with a glass of Merlot.

Marty at the front desk of M&J’s Storage Company gives you a tightlipped smile and a curt nod as you drive past, having gotten used to you stopping by periodically over the winter. Pulling up in front of unit seventy makes your heart race, the second most beautiful thing in the world sat behind that navy metal door. The old lock takes a few tugs to loosen its hold, finally allowing you to release the latch and lift the door.

“Well, hello again,” you mumble as you pull back the cover, eyes scanning over metal. It hadn’t been long since your last little maintenance visit, meaning all you had to do was drive home and get her shined up.

After stopping at the gas station on the way home to fill the tank, you finally park and nearly eat pavement as you jump out of the car. It takes extra effort without the help you usually get from your brother to lower the bike off the trailer, but you manage, though it leaves your arms shaking while you remove the cover again.

Polish turns the piping from grey to silver, the dust off the body goes back to its original tan, and the blue on the design is restored to its proper glory. Despite checking once a month or so, you cross your fingers as you start the engine, hoping that all your hardwork will pay off and nothing will go wrong. The engine does a chg-chg-chg before it turns over and the motorcycle comes to life.

“Yes!” you exclaim, jumping in the air slightly with sheer amount of excitement running through your veins. You let the bike run for a little bit as you take photos to send to your brothers as proof you could, in fact, get it off the trailer without them.

All you can think about for the next couple hours before bed is the feeling of your riding jacket and the wind blowing against it.

—☽—

The sky is still dark when you open your eyes the next morning, impatience waking before you before your alarm. Once you’ve gained your bearings, you get up and are getting ready as fast as you possibly can. It’s impossible to sit still, you’re almost dancing in place as you brush your teeth and can’t stop yourself from skipping to the closet by the front door. Shoved in the back, next to your sandals, was a pair of black, leather, steel toe boots. After saving every penny your senior year of college, you bought them as a graduation gift for yourself, and you’ll wear them until you can feel the ground through the soles.

Once you had to turn around due to forgetting it from sheer enthusiasm, you borderline ran down the stairs to your garage space. With the garage door open, the warm air creeping in from the outside is invigorating, and the lack of wind for the first time in two weeks gives you hope that your face won’t freeze off on the ride to Abbott. The biggest pain is getting your backpack to sit comfortably over your slightly bulky riding jacket, covered in patches from states and towns you’d visited over the years.

The second the bike begins to move, it feels like all of your problems have disappeared behind you. The low rumbling and revving drives others crazy, but it feels like the calming presence around you. If only the cops around weren’t such sticklers, or you’d have left your helmet off for the fifteen minutes drive. The wind on your face is better than caffeine, but your eyes water so badly, you can’t have anyone thinking you were sobbing on your way to work. That’s a Monday activity, not Thursday.

From the speed in which you got ready to get on your bike, you’re the second person in, Janine always being first. You refrain from sitting by the TV once you’re in the lounge, just leaning against the counter and sipping your coffee until the object of your affection arrives. Gregory and Jacob come in together, talking about the next round of plants for the garden. When Barbara comes in, you can see that she’s holding in laughter, a fast-talking Melissa behind her.

“How are you not freaking out, Barb? That bike is beautiful, and it’s at Abbott, Abbott, of all places,” she almost yells, her hands waving around with disbelief in her friend’s relative disinterest.

“It’s a bicycle, Melissa.”

“Motorcycle, it’s a motorcycle. It doesn’t have a basket and ribbons, unlike yours,” Melissa mumbles that last part, but Barbara stills catches it and gives a gentle smack to her friend’s arm, despite laughing herself. You can’t lie, knowing that Melissa is fascinated by the bike, you want to speak up about it now, but instead, you stay quiet.

The spot next to her by the TV stays vacant, practically having an RSVP with your name on it. When you plop next to her, she peeks at you from the corner of her eye, and she does it a few times again during the commute report. You catch her the fifth time, raising your brows in question to not gain the others’ attention, but she just gives you a shake of the head. She turns back to the TV, but you’re persistent, propping your arm behind you like you’d done yesterday, and poking her shoulder.

Her head whips away from you, and seeing that it was your hand over her shoulder, she turns back to you with a playful scowl.

“What?” she asks with a softer tone than you had expected.

You lean in just a touch to keep your words between the two of you, “you were staring. Was just making sure you’re okay.”

God, you could survive solely off the way her eyes shine, how wide they open at your earnest. Neither of you realize the time between your words and the answer that has yet to come, just looking at each other as a tiny smile plays on your lips. It takes the internal will of ten thousand men to not jump at her emerald eyes dropping briefly to your lips.

“Right… Sure you’re not just flirting? Like a little kid annoying their crush?” she jokes, partially to save her from embarrassment, partially to hide the racing of her heart from your attention.

“Could be. But at least I’m not the one avoiding the question,” you joke back, and when she doesn’t answer again, you push, “nothing to say about that, beautiful?” Her eyes go to her lap as she shakes her head, another poor attempt to hide the clear effect you have on her. For now, you’ll just ignore the feeling of her leaning slightly closer to you and try to still your rapid heartbeat.

—☽—

In a desperate attempt to see who owns this magnificent bike, Melissa stays in the parking lot, loitering by fiddling with her purse to not raise suspicion. She immediately ignores Gregory and Mr. Morton, knowing they’re too stiff to ever consider getting on a motorcycle, let alone this one. As she sits there on her phone, after fifteen minutes of waiting, a familiar hum starts up and the bike is moving out of the lot.

That jacket. Patches cover nearly all visible space, even a little Eagles one next to a custom Abbott patch. Even with the helmet obscuring your face, without the jacket, she’d know you anywhere. Immediately, she starts to move, putting her car in drive as she pulls out of the lot the same way you did, conveniently the same direction she needed to go.

With a stroke of luck, she pulls into a lane next to you at a busy red light, rolling down her passenger side window, “aye! Why did you say shit about you having the bike?”

You push up your visor, yelling over the motor and traffic, “air of mystery!”

“Bullshit!”

“Guessing you want a ride, huh, gorgeous?” You can’t even contain your grin as you watch her eyes widen, flicking to the red light that has still yet to turn. Little do you know her mind is screaming and your cocky little smile isn’t helping one bit.

She swallows the lump in her throat, “follow me to my place.”

“Yes, ma’am,” you say as you flip your visor back down, glad to be able to cover your face as you smile so hard you narrowly avoid missing the light turning green. It doesn’t take long to fall into line behind Melissa, cutting into a tiny space that earns you a deserved honk from the old man behind you.

It’s less than twenty minutes before Melissa’s blinker directs you into her driveway. You walk it slowly next to her car, keeping the engine running as you take off your helmet. Melissa gets out of her car, abandoning her purse in the seat next to her, and stands nervously by the hood as she plays with her sleeves. Suddenly the thought of being one the motorcycle, pressed against your back, sounds so good she’s afraid she’ll ruin it somehow.

Your voice cuts off her brain’s nervous rambling, “I’ve only got the one helmet with me. So, you’ll wear that, and we’ll stick to the side streets.”

“No highway,” she grumbles as she steps closer.

Your nose scrunches as you laugh at her pout, “no highway and nothing over forty, cross my heart.” Holding out your pinky, she begrudgingly takes it while ignoring the butterflies in her stomach. “You’re gonna wanna tie your hair back, low bun, braid, something like that.”

“Ponytail?” she asks, pretending she doesn’t care that your pinkies are still wrapped around one another.

“Nope, it’ll just tangle. And we can’t have anything happening to that beautiful hair,” you subconsciously pull her hand closer and draw her in. Her finger tightens around yours in return. When her neighbor pulls into their driveway, their car door shutting loudly disrupts the quiet between you two, making you both pull away.

Instead of speaking of it, you both fiddle to get ready for a ride around the block or down to the corner store. Melissa faces away from you to tie her hair into a tight low bun, she takes deep breaths to calm herself from the sheer proximity to you. Behind her, you fiddle with the clasps of the helmet to fit her better.

When she turns to face you again, you motion for her to get closer and her eyes almost bulge out her head. Melissa slowly approaches you as her fingers tangle around themselves. You lift the helmet in silent question, and she nods. Carefully, trying to touch her as little as possible, you help get the helmet on without pulling her hair.

You open the visor before you adjust the chin strap, “feel good? Secure?”

“It’s comfier than I thought,” her voice comes out slightly muffled by the guard in front of her lips. Melissa prays you can’t hear her fast breaths, completely overwhelmed by your scent surrounding her.

“Good,” you smile, “I’ll back her up onto the street, then you can hop on.”

Once you’ve got the kickstand down so it’s as stable as possible for her to get on, you offer a hand as support. Melissa slowly places her hand in yours, the squeeze she receives tells her trust me, I won’t let you get hurt. Using the footrest, she gets herself over the seat to straddle it behind you. Manicured hands flex open and close behind your back as she becomes unsure of where to put them.

“There’s handles, slightly behind you, that you can hold onto,” speaking loudly over the motor. You turn over your shoulder to meet your eyes with hers, “or, if you wanna, you can hold onto me. Whatever’s your preference.”

To save face, she rolls her eyes, “just want my hands on you, don’t you now?”

“Can’t call you a liar for that one,” you say with a smug grin, turning back to lean the bike upright and put up the kickstand. The second you start to move, Melissa’s arms go tightly around your waist, white knuckling your jacket.

Feeling her holding you was only so pleasant until you realized it was mostly from fear. Before taking off slowly, you pat her hand where it rests on your abdomen. It only grips tighter in return. Taking your foot off the ground and beginning to move, feeling more careful in every move you make as to not make Melissa more nervous than she was. It was surprising really, that Melissa Schemmenti of all people was nervous on a motorcycle.

Her grip starts to loosen after the third or fourth turn, but her arms don’t move. Melissa almost rests her head against your back, but decides against it in a sudden judgment. When the moment comes where she feels comfortable, she releases one arm from her hold on you to push the visor back up to have an unobstructed view of the Philly streets and your reflection in the mirrors.

When you finally slow down, it’s six blocks over at her favorite corner store, they’ve got the best hoagie options. She uses your shoulders and the hand you placed out for her to get down from the bike, legs numb from the vibrations of the bike and motor against her thighs. You’re quick to get off, helping her get the helmet off and fixing the little strands of hair that stick up from static. Neither of you mention Melissa’s rosy cheeks or your lingering caress along her bangs.

The small shop leaves little room to roam about, and you stay closely pressed to Melissa’s back as you maneuver to the counter to order food to bring back to her house. With the warmth radiating off of you, she now understands how you felt the whole ride. She knows how you feel about her, it’s a mirror of the ache in her chest for you, and feeling you against her has her heart pounding in time with yours.

From around her waist, comes your arm, offering the cashier a twenty dollar bill. Your other hand rests against Melissa’s hip, holding your wallet open for the change. This has to be some sort of revenge for holding you, she thinks to herself.

As you slowly pull into her driveway, there’s an air of unsureness around the two of you. Stepping off the bike again, you fiddle with your fingers, not wanting to invite yourself into her home. Melissa tugs at the ends of her sleeves as she plans her next words.

“Do you wanna come in, have a beer with those hoagies?” Melissa offers with a hopeful tone.

You smile as you grab the helmet from you, clipping over the little strap on the seat. She takes the hint and walks towards the door with you closely behind her. Inside, without the jacket and boots on, Melissa thinks you look soft. Everything about you is so careful with her, even when you wear worn leather with chains, this dressed down version matches the treatment she always receives.

Sitting across from her at the island, you answer all her questions about how you got the bike, how you maintain it, how you learned all the tricks to keep it running.

“Seriously, that thing’s how old and still going that strong?” she asks through a mouthful of capicola.

“It’s thirty now, it’s a 1992. Harleys are just built to last longer than the actual biker at this point, especially the older models,” you take a swig of beer, “the Daytona was too good to pass up. I got it so cheap and the guy barely had miles on it.”

Melissa perks up, “how much?”

“Thirty-five hundred. Stupid cheap, he could’ve easily gotten ten.”

She smirks, “and you just let him trick himself out of the money?”

“Duh,” you say. There’s a beat of silence before you both start to laugh, leaning into one another over the table.

—☽—

The sun set some time between finishing the hoagies and the third episode of The Real Housewives she roped you into watching. She claimed it was only fair considering she willingly got on the motorcycle. What had started with you two on different cushions quickly became you being pressed against each other, your arm taking residence behind her, but never touching her as you always kept it.

In a strange moment of bravado, Melissa leans against the back cushion and your arm dips into the slope, falling gently around your shoulders. You purse your lips in an attempt to keep a straight face, adjusting your arm to have your hand rest on her shoulder. It doesn’t take long before your fingers begin to draw nonsensical patterns over her shirt. Time passes, episodes go on, and Melissa’s weight starts to fall more into you. Every passing second you become more aware that you don’t want to leave this position as long as you live.

The screen turns black, Are you still watching? appears across it, behind the words, a reflection of the two of you. Your gaze dips down, immediately meeting Melissa’s looking up at you. Green eyes flick to your lips, and for the first time, you know for a fact that you are not imagining it. Her tongue pokes out to wet her lips, capturing your attention. Eyes meet and it’s so quick, neither of you can tell who starts it.

Melissa’s lips taste like light beer and strawberry chapstick, and her tongue is dominating and soft. Her hands grip tightly at the base of your neck, keeping you close to her like you would disappear if your lips left hers. Your hands take residence on her waist, like they had hours ago, and the warmth of her skin under her shirt is screaming your name, begging to be touched.

Tongues clash against one another, sticky lips clumsy as air becomes a necessity. Barely taking your lips off her skin, you trail downwards to her jaw, placing wet kisses along it. The hands on her waist push up and make their way beneath her shirt, gently squeezing her warm, supple body. The feeling of your soft hands holding her makes Melissa groan, tugging you back to her wanting lips.

All she’s wanted since the moment she met you, to hold you, kiss you, touch you, it’s all happening and she can barely find it in her to stop. She never wants it to. With your teeth tugging at her bottom lip, a borderline moan escapes her, and she feels you smile against her mouth and it’s all she can think about. Melissa is completely putty in your hands.

Without breaking the distance between you, you pull away from her lips slowly. Heaving breaths escape both of you, lips swollen and pupils dilated from lust. Melissa’s hand traces from the back of your neck to the chain of your necklace dangling in front of her, looping it around her finger to pull you in closer. Your lips graze over hers, but her words fill the space before they can touch.

“What if I asked you to take me upstairs?”

Your thumb brushes over her ribs, “then I would.”

The door handle almost puts a hole in the wall with the way Melissa shoves it open behind her as you walk her backwards towards her room. Her hands drop from your face to the hem of her shirt, beginning to pull it up before your hands take over. As you step away to throw her shirt off to the side, your eyes drop and a soft look comes over your features.

Stepping into her space again, your fingers trace over her skin, “you’re so beautiful.” It’s barely above a whisper, she barely hears it, barely even sure you’re aware you’ve said it.

Melissa’s only response is to kiss you again, pulling you towards her bed until she topples onto it, taking you with her. Your thighs straddle her as you tug off your own shirt, bending down to continue ravishing her. You kiss down from her lips, to her jaw, to the dip at the base of her neck, then trace your tongue back up. Cold hands grab yours, pulling them down to the button of her jeans.

“Are you sure?” you ask from above her, free hand pushing baby hairs from her blushing face. She only nods, not trusting her words. You shake your head lightly, a little smile on your lips, “I’m gonna need a real answer, lovely.”

Lovely, that’s a new one. She feels her face warm under your gaze, arousal pooling. With the strength she can muster, she utters, “please.”

Without a moment to spare, your lips are on hers again, hand at her waist moving to unbutton her pants. As you help push them down, your hand passes her panties, the dark patch of wetness calling to you. It only invigorates you as you let go of her lips, kissing down to her chest. Arching forward, she makes space for your wandering hands to slip behind and unclasp her bra.

A breathless mumble of God leaves your lips, before soft kisses are pressed to her sternum, skim over to her breast. You kiss her skin with a reverence she’s never felt, teeth graze over her hardened nipple before your lips wrap around it, tongue swirling. The unattended breast begs for attention that is quickly given by your hand, rolling the bud between your fingers.

The warm hand at her waist grips down to her thigh, pushing her legs open to make space for you to lie. Your mouth and hand switch, equal, worship-like attention given to each breast. Melissa’s quiet, hidden moans become louder, hips shifting for pressure against yours. Taking the hint, your lips travel lower, licking over her abdomen and gently biting when she tugs at your hair.

One hand wraps around her thigh, the other keeps her in place as a weight against her stomach. Pressing wet kisses to her thigh, you look at her for permission to continue. The image of you between her legs, lips on her wet thighs, eyes shining with want, all she can manage is bucking her hips towards you, a whine escaping her lips.

One last kiss is placed against plush skin, Melissa’s hand tangles with yours, interlocking fingers feeling like they belong there. Your warm, wet tongue glides over her slit, up and down in slow figure-eights, her little gasps only egging you on. Flattening your tongue, you press harder against her, tasting her more fully, groaning against her in satifaction. It makes sense why Eve would so easily give everything for a mere taste of the forbidden fruit. Sweet and warm, divine heaven on your lips.

Melissa hips buck into your face, begging for more and you are more than willing to give. You lick up to her clit, the pearl demanding attention from you. Small, circular motions with your tongue make Melissa groan, slapping a hand over her mouth as she gets closer and closer to her peak.

You lift away from clit, much to her dismay, “don’t do that.” The hand on her stomach moves to pull her hand away from her mouth, “I want to hear you… please.”

Her hand drops to the sheets beside her, and your mouth is back on her. Sucking harder against her, your hand slides down her abdomen and positions in front of her blooming lips. Your middle finger presses into her slick walls, forcing a moan from both of you. With a few gentle pushes and pulls, you slowly ease in your ring finger, making her clench tightly.

Red nails dig into your hair, tugging as Melissa writhes above you. Husky moans and whines fill the room, pleas of faster and yes, yes are burned into your mind, a melody you won’t dare forget.

You pull off of her clit to take a breath and speak, “can you take more, baby?”

“Please,” she says through pants. The hand in your hair tug you up to her lips, “please.” Her desperate grasp is not willing to let you go, claw-like nails digging into your back.

Lips dancing as you shift your hand to put your thumb to her clit, lining your forefinger to her pussy. Melissa’s jaw drops as the third finger stretches her more, the moan that rips through her is felt by your lips on her neck. You keep a steady rhythm of circling her clit and pumping your fingers into her. Her moans turn to pitched whines, walls hugging your fingers, she was so close. You kiss down her neck, sucking little marks that will fade by morning, taking your time on her breasts and lower stomach. Reaching her clit again, suck it into your mouth as you speed your fingers’ pace.

Frantic hips begin to still, a whine leaving her plump lips as she cums around your fingers. Your attention leaves her clit to travel down her lips as you slowly pump your fingers, removing one by one as she comes down. Shaking thighs relax against the bed as you clean her with your tongue, nectar of the goddess being all the reward you need. She pulls lightly at your hand on her thigh, begging for your lips on hers.

Pressing a final kiss to her pearl, then thigh, you capture her lips in a slow kiss, soft and full of the love that had been hiding under every interaction since you’d first met. When you pull away, you bring your fingers to her lips to give her a proper taste of herself. Accepting the offer, her tongue swirls around the digits. You internally scold yourself for being jealous of your own hand, even the string of saliva that connects her heavenly mouth to your fingers.

You shift to cup her cheek, admiring her droopy eyes and blushing cheeks, the sheen of sweat over her forehead. Her own hand mirrors your movement, pulling you down to press a kiss to the corner of your lips.

“You are so- too good at that,” she mumbles against your cheek, feeling the vibration of your laugh.

You press a kiss to her cheek before flopping next to her, “you, you taste too good.”

Her hand comes to cover her face, but you’re quick to catch it, bringing it closer to kiss the back. Melissa chuckles as you nibble on the knuckle of her pinkie, but she frowns as you roll off the bed. Emerald eyes follow you to the ensuite bathroom, and back as you go back between her legs with a warm washcloth. The featherlike touch and soft kisses to her skin only further the blush on her cheeks.

After discarding the rag and tugging off your jeans, you lay down next to her on your side, eyes scanning over her face. Her head turns to you, enjoying the quiet between you, even more so when your pointer finger traces her features and takes special attention to her lips. Lipstick smudged around her chin, surely on your face as well, and messy eyeliner, she’s never been quite so beautiful.

The gentle ministrations and loving attention make Melissa’s eyes grow heavy, sleep grasping at her despite the fight to stay in your presence. Feeling her relaxing into you, you shift to lay on your back, arm out inviting her into your embrace. Lazily rolling into you, her face tucks into your neck, hand searching for yours.

You tangle your fingers together and whisper into the air, “I think it goes without saying, but I’m stupid in love with you. Everything about you. Just thought you should know.”

“Good thing,” she says through a yawn as she shifts more into you, “because I’m stupid in love with you, too.”

You press a kiss into her hair, “go to sleep, pretty girl. I’ll be here in the morning, if you want.”

“Of course I want,” it’s barely audible, but you can tell she means it.

The scent of sex, sweat, and eucalyptus body wash radiates from her, underneath it all is a smell that’s so uniquely Melissa that you can feel yourself sinking into the mattress. It feels easy, being with her, it makes sense. You find yourself staring at the ceiling, you recount every time you should have spoken up about your feelings. Surely there could have been a time, but none seem to come to mind. It only makes sense that this is how it was supposed to happen. In her bed, on this day, with the taste of lager on her tongue, you were meant to find your way together.

title from beauty school by deftones

one day i’ll write a shorter fic like i planned in my head

feedback appreciated as always <3

#melissa schemmenti x reader #melissa schemmenti #lisa ann walter #abbott elementary #lgbtq fanfiction #lgbtq #lesbian

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rainychaoloveshack · 2 months

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AAAAA—

I’ve been searching for Sonic x reader req’s…

can I ask for a Shadow x reader where both were experiments for Maria’s cure? Where Shadow had a slight hatred and annoyance towards them because at times Maria would give time for them to hang out. Then blah blah blah after her death and the fall of the ark. He sees them again where they have a flower shop now, then finally after years Shadow gives in to apologize as he realizes he’s not the only one who mourns for Maria.

ﾟ ⋆ ﾟ ☂︎ ⋆ ﾟ 𝐏𝐚𝐬𝐭 𝐟𝐮𝐥𝐥 𝐨𝐟 𝐅𝐥𝐨𝐰𝐞𝐫𝐬. 𝐒𝐡𝐚𝐝𝐨𝐰 𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐇𝐞𝐝𝐠𝐞𝐡𝐨𝐠.

it’s been years since you saw his face, and even longer since you’ve seen hers.

⋆°•☁︎ content . shadow x gn!reader, angst, so so so many mentiona of the word “flower” (it’ll drive you insane) warning. brief mentions of vomit.

☂︎ wc. 1.8k ☂︎ a/n. huehehe flowers go brrrrr. i got kinddd of experimental with this one and tried to branch out more emotionally. i hope you like it ^^ wouldve wrote in some more but i didnt want it to be too long… my fault :( i just love angst lol

likes, reblogs, and especially comments are extremely appreciated!!! (i like chatting to you guys!)

“[Name], ah, this is really, really cool!” Her fingers weave the stems together like a beautiful melody, overlapping with one another to form a gorgeous pattern in her palms. “When you were learning this at first, you should’ve told me! I could’ve learned it with you!” She gives you a fake little pout, soon to be replaced by her ever-shining smile. “Now I can make you and Grandpa flower crowns all the time! Though, I don't think he’ll wear them…”

And you can’t wait for the moment that she hands you one of her own, one made on her own time, with no assistance from your end. A true testament of her love for you; one you would never doubt, gift or not.

Paired with your hydrangeas and carnations, roses and daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you thought she would adore. Put and grown with love right on the Ark, with the help of Professor Gerald. The fact that you had decided to cultivate life on the Ark caught his attention, and it might’ve not been possible without his assistance with your little hobby. Your garden wasn’t just that, though. It wasn’t a simple piece of eye candy for passersbys; they weren’t allowed to take a single step in it.

It was for flower crowns; something you had learned just to impress her. A secret hobby, just for the two of you to play around with. No one else.

Not even Shadow.

“Oh, and I can make some for Shadow too!” Her fingers graze over the petals on her newly made crown, a mixture of light blue flowers and red ones, along with your favorite color. Three colors mingled into one beautiful piece.

Shadow… You haven’t seen him for a while.

Even if you didn’t want to admit it, you two had always been competing for her attention, her love, but she had managed to share it between the two of you. Was it greedy of both of you to ask that from her? Her saccharine self? It’s not like you’ll ever know the answer now.

You’ve never gotten along with Shadow, despite you two coming from the same origin. Natural competitors. But neither of you had ever engaged in any sort of conflict directly, maybe a snide remark or two from him but that would be all. Most of the hatred was from him. Deep down, you know you wouldn’t be opposed to being his friend.

So why does he look at you so harshly?

… It doesn’t matter. As long as you can act as her medicine, her cure, helping her heal from both her illness and what bothers her, that's good enough for you.

It’s been fifty years. Fifty years. You don’t want to remember the specifics, but it’s been more than that now. A couple of years of change, you’re sure.

Your left hand clasps over your right, your fingertips rubbing over your knuckles slowly. Everywhere you look, it’s her. Every flower in your shop; it’s almost like you can see a glimpse of her figure and face through the petals.

Hydrangeas. Carnations. Roses. Daffodils. Every little flower at your fingertips; ones you knew she adored. Grown with your everlasting love for that girl clad in blue; remembering the click of her heels as she would run over to you with a new crown in hand. You wish you could’ve kept each one she gave you, even if they would’ve all wilted by now. Wilted flowers have their own kind of beauty in a way, but maybe it’s only you who sees it.

Remembrance is an aching feeling. Swirling around in your stomach, at times even threatening to spill out of your mouth in the form of vomit and puke. Pouring itself out of your body through tears and bile. And no matter how hard you try, it seems to stay present. Even after all these years.

Before that emotion fills your mouth again, the sound of the bell rips you from your thoughts, the door swinging open. You swirl your body around, putting on a smile to greet your new customer. It’ll be another day, just like the last one.

… What?

“It’s you.” He says, clearly in disbelief at the person he’s seeing, just over the counter. “Hmph. So that idiot was right.”

Is… Is that him? Him?

Shadow?

“Are you in shock that I’m still alive?” Not at all, no. But the words don’t pour out of your mouth, instead letting out shaky breaths as he looks around your humble flower shop; similar to how one would gaze at a picture frame of an old family member. Solemn. Melancholic.

“I’m not here for some stupid greeting. I came for… A bouquet.” He almost seems uncertain about his reasoning. Even after seeing you, he doesn’t look angry. Not even surprised. Curious? You had heard his name throughout the years, but to meet him not anywhere else, but here, now.

Remembrance is an aching feeling.

“Those.” He points to a bunch of delphinium together, a light, bright blue. “And these.” His fingers graze over a dark red bunch of roses, his ear twitching at the sound of your immediate shuffling, going for the delphinium first. Something’s telling you in your heart to not get so close to him. It’s the aching; you’re sure of it.

Naturally you would question why he would need such a bouquet, but it’s not your place to wonder in that manner, especially now. Just do your job and go.

Shadow stares at a certain flower you keep away from the door, away from prying eyes, but still on sale for people to take.

You keep it away on purpose.; those kinds of flowers are your favorite ones. Sometimes if work is slow for a peculiar day, you’ll get lost within the petals, tracing over every groove of the plant, and even the stem itself, taking note of the way they feel under your fingertips.

“These too.” His footsteps almost echo through the store; or is it your imagination weighing heavy on you? Your head turns to see he’s going up to your favorite flower, picking one up by its stem to twirl it over between his fingertips, before dropping it back down. As you make your way over, he seems to notice and backs away from you, retreating to the counter. So even he doesn’t want to chat.

Fine with you. If he hadn’t bothered to come by all of these years, why did you expect him to care? But there’s a back thought in your head, telling you you’re lying about those statements of yours.

No matter.

As you pick up your favorites from its spot, settling a couple into the growing bouquet, you finally notice the mixture of flowers. How important they all are.

Delphinium. Roses. Your favorite.

These are the ones Maria always made flower crowns with.

You hesitate on looking his way, already noticing his gaze stuck on your back, so you keep picking the flowers up, settling them snugly into the bouquet in a sort of pattern.

“I’d like some bits of chrysanthemums in there too.” He suddenly mutters, and you comply with his request, making your way back over to the counter afterward.

The chrysanthemums are a bright yellow, reminding you of the way her blonde hair flowed, mingled with the colors of whatever crown you had made her at the time. You wouldn’t be surprised if she had begged Professor Gerald for a way to preserve them. Thinking about such a thing is so melancholic.

You take the time to wrap a red ribbon around the neck of the bouquet, securing it with a bow to make it more presentable, but knowing Shadow, if he’s any bit of the man he used to be all those years ago, you assume that these blossoms would be going into a vase anyway. He’s not the type of person to leave a bouquet out, is he?

While you mutter the price under your breath, Shadow slips out the exact amount onto the counter, his motions swift. He outstretches his hands, not a single change in expression as he accepts the flowers, then settles them into his arm, hugging it close to his torso. He wants to get this over with; you can tell.

The silence between you two is unbearable. Would it cause that much harm to ask about his flower choices? Why the ones she-

“Yes, Maria liked these ones.” Shadow utters, his fingers brushing across the delphinium. His brows furrow, remembering bits and pieces of both of your pasts together. “She always made those flower crowns with you.”

Of course, he will mention her; how could you be so stupid?

“She made some with me a handful of times.” Shadow says plainly, clearly not enjoying looking back on those memories. Not that he would mind if it was just him and Maria, but that activity was plagued with you. His own thoughts of you. After all of these years. “I think she preferred to make them with you.” He scoffs. “Said it was your special hobby together. I never cared for your hobby.”

You bite your tongue but decide not to say anything as the seconds pass with silence. Suddenly, a deep sigh leaves his lips, your little flower shop falling still with his sudden change in demeanor. The way his shoulders fall, with his head hung low, not daring to look you in the eyes with a small flick of his ear in your direction.

“I’m sorry.” Shadow murmurs. “For all this time I thought of you as just a nuisance.” He shakes his head, pushing up against the counter with his free hand. “But she wouldn’t want me to think of you that way… I don’t want that for myself either.”

Shadow tosses a crisp fifty on the counter along with his still-present payment; clearly overspending for his single bouquet. “Goodbye.”

Your fingers press nervously into the table, nails scratching at wood, eyes plastered onto his distancing figure as he walks away, bouquet in his arm.

Say something. Anything.

His footsteps slowly die out, turning around slightly to meet your eye. “What was that?” Shadow cocks his head to the side, eyes widened slightly, clearly in shock at your goodbye.

It’s customary for business owners to want their customers to come back. Repeated business means more profit. More money to tend to your shop. More happy customers. More smiles. More flowers. Her flowers. A way to remember her by.

Maria.

So it’s as simple as that.

Please come again.

A small grumble rises from his throat as he turns away from you. “I’m gonna ask for the same thing next time, okay? Remember it.” Shadow doesn’t let you get another word out, as the bell chimes above him, pushing open the door to leave you standing there in awe.

That remembrance doesn’t ache as bad anymore.

#sonic x reader #sonic #shadow the hedgehog x reader #thank you for your request!#sonic angst #maria robotnik #maria sonic

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d-targaryenshoe · 6 months

Text

Blooming Love - Anthony Bridgerton

Word count: 1610

Summary: Having a picknick in a garden, together with your children, truly is a treat, is it not?

As the sun slowly crept across the sky, casting its warm, golden light upon the emerald green grass, Anthony and you, laid out a cozy picnic blanket in the Bridgerton's family garden.

Your two daughters, Edith and Florence, giggled as they chased each other through the lush foliage, their delicate dresses billowing behind them like the sails of a ship.

Little Gerald, meanwhile, sat contentedly in front of his father, absorbed in a game of peekaboo.

The air was filled with the sweet scent of roses as if nature itself was conspiring to create a perfect, idyllic scene.

Your hands were full with a basket of freshly baked treats, and you paused for a moment to admire the view.

"Anthony," you said, your voice tinged with wonder, "isn't it simply marvelous?"

You glanced over at your husband, his strong, handsome features etched with a look of contentment that seemed to radiate from within.

You couldn't help but feel a surge of love and gratitude for him, for your children, for this life you had built together.

Anthony smiled, his eyes twinkling with affection.

"Yes, my dear," he said, taking your hand in his. "It is indeed marvelous. And it's all the more so because we're sharing it with those we love most."

He leaned in to kiss your forehead, his lips lingering for a moment before pulling away.

The tenderness of the gesture was not lost on either of you.

You knew that soon enough, your lives would change irrevocably with the arrival of your newest child.

But for now, you were basking in the quiet, peaceful joy of this perfect moment.

As if on cue, little Edith skipped over, her brown curls bouncing, her blue eyes shining with excitement.

"Papa, Mama, look what I found!" she exclaimed, holding up a particularly beautiful flower.

Anthony and you exchanged amused glances before thanking her and admiring the flower.

"That's a lovely bloom, Edith," Anthony said, his voice full of pride.

"Why don't you put it in your hair?" You suggested, helping your daughter pin the flower behind her ear.

You placed the basket down on the blanket as you tried your best to sit down on the blanket with the round bump in the way, but Anthony held out his hand and helped you settle down gently.

"There you go, dearest," he said with a warm smile. "You're going to make quite a beautiful picture sitting there like that."

He couldn't help but feel a twinge of sadness, knowing that soon enough, your lives would change forever.

But for now, you could just enjoy this moment, this time together as a family.

As Edith ran back to her game with her sister, Gerald started crawling towards the picnic basket, his curiosity getting the better of him.

"Oh, let me get that for you, young man," Anthony said, scooping up his son and setting him down next to him. "You're just a bit too small to reach it quite yet."

Gerald giggled, his tiny hands flailing in the air as if to prove his point, and Anthony couldn't help but laugh.

The sun continued to climb higher in the sky, casting long shadows across the lawn, but you all didn't seem to mind.

You were content, for now, just to be together, to soak up the last moments of this idyllic, peaceful life before your world was turned upside down.

And as you sat there, surrounded by the beauty of the garden and the love that bound you together, Anthony couldn't help but feel a deep sense of gratitude for everything you had.

You broke the silence, your voice barely above a whisper.

"Do you ever wonder what kind of life they'll have, Anthony?" you asked, gesturing toward your daughters. "What kind of world will they grow up in?"

He looked at you, his expression thoughtful.

"I don't know," he admitted. "But I do know that we'll give them love, and we'll give them strength. And we'll teach them to always be true to themselves."

You smiled at him, a tear trickling down your cheek.

Your conversation was interrupted by a sudden burst of laughter from your daughters. Edith and Florence had found a game of tag and were chasing each other around the garden, their giggles filling the air.

Anthony's heart swelled with love for them, for the joy they brought to his life, and for the promise of the future they represented.

He couldn't help but wonder what kind of young women they would grow up to be.

As if sensing his thoughts, you reached out and took his hand in yours.

"They'll be fine, Anthony," you said, your voice steady and reassuring. "Everything shall be fine."

Gerald, meanwhile, had managed to crawl his way over to the picnic basket and was now sitting up, his tiny hands reaching for a cookie that he had spotted.

"Careful there," Anthony said, gently pushing Gerald's hands away from the cookie. "We haven't had lunch yet. We should wait until Mama says it's time to eat." Gerald pouted, but reluctantly let his hands drop to the blanket.

Time seemed to slow down as you sat there, watching your children play.

The warmth of the sun, the smell of the flowers, and the sound of laughter all blended to create a perfect moment that you knew you would cherish forever.

But Anthony knew that this idyllic scene would soon change.

He was about to become a father again, and with that came new responsibilities, new challenges, and a new sense of vulnerability.

"Do you ever think about the past, Anthony?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the sound of your children's giggles.

He turned to look at you, surprised by the question. "Of course I do," he replied. "But the past is gone. We must focus on the present and prepare for the future."

You nodded, your expression thoughtful. "Yes, you're right. But I mean, do you not ever have a single thought about what would have been different if we didn't wed one another?"

Anthony considered your question for a moment. It was true that you could have ended up in vastly different places if you hadn't met and fallen in love.

Perhaps he would have married someone else, or you would have found someone else who could give you the life you deserved.

The possibilities were endless. But as he looked at your happy family now, he knew without a doubt that he wouldn't change a thing.

"I suppose I do think about it sometimes," he finally said, "but only because it helps me appreciate what we have now. We could have easily been apart, and yet here we are, stronger than ever. Whatever it was, I'm grateful for it."

"No, no, I am grateful for you, for your family, all the lot."

Your conversation was interrupted by the sound of footsteps approaching from behind.

You turned to see Violet Bridgerton making her way toward you, a smile on her face.

"Oh my-, Violet," you said, rising to your feet. "What a lovely surprise."

"It surely is" Violet replied, hugging you. "I couldn't resist the opportunity to see my favorite little ones."

Violet leaned over to plant a kiss on each of your daughters' heads, eliciting giggles from both Edith and Florence.

Anthony smiled at his mother. "And how are you feeling, Mama? How has life changed with Eloise getting married?"

Violet considered the question, her eyes drifting toward the garden.

"Well, it's certainly different, Anthony. I never thought I'd see the day Eloise would be wed. But, she's grown into herself so beautifully, and she and Philip are so very much in love. It's hard not to feel happy for them."

She paused, her gaze returning to the two youngest girls, who were now running around the blanket, their laughter filling the air.

"Of course, I do miss having her around as much. She was always such a bright light, even when she was at her most mischievous. But children grow up, and they move on to their own lives."

You reached over and took Violet's hand in yours. "You know we'll always be here for you. And you must remember that Eloise will always be your daughter, no matter where she is or what she does."

Anthony nodded in agreement. "And who knows? Perhaps one day we'll have grandchildren running around the manor."

Violet smiled at the thought, her eyes shining with happiness. "Oh, I hope so," she said wistfully. "It's such a wonderful thing, watching your children grow up and start their own families."

You sat together in silence for a moment, lost in your thoughts until the sound of the children's giggles grew fainter.

Realizing that they were getting hungry, Violet spoke up, offering her hand to her grandchildren. "Shall we go inside for some tea?"

Gerald accepted her hand. "That sounds lovely, doesn't it?" she replied. "I'm sure you all would love some freshly baked scones."

You watched the kids go inside the house with Violet and you let out a content sigh, leaning back on your hands.

"It's amazing how much they've grown, isn't it?" you said, looking at your husband.

Anthony nodded in agreement, his gaze following your daughters as they disappeared into the house. "They are the lights of our lives."

As you sat there, lost in your thoughts, the sounds of laughter and clinking teacups drifted out from the house, reminding you of the life you had built together.

It was a life that had started so uncertain, with so many obstacles in your way, but you had managed to overcome them all.

#anthony bridgerton #bridgerton x reader #anthony bridgerton x reader #bridgerton x reader #bridgerton imagines #bridgerton imagine #bridgerton netflix #colin bridgerton x reader #benedict bridgerton x reader #bridgerton #anthony x reader #bridgerton fanfiction #benedict bridgerton #bridgerton x you #bridgerton x female reader #bridgerton x y/n #x reader #anthony bridgerton x you

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afterlife-2004 · 25 days

Text

Reminds me of “The World Was Wide Enough”, a song from the musical, Hamilton!

youtube

#sonic movie 3 #sonicmovie3hype #movie shadow #movie sonic #I’d imagine Movie Sonic being Alexander Hamilton and Movie Shadow as Aaron Burr 😭#🎶The World Was Wide Enough Sayonara… Shadow The Hedgehog🎶#Movie Shadow: 🎶 I imagine death so much it feels more like a memory Is this where it gets me on my feet several feet ahead of me? 🎶#🎶 I see it coming do I run or fire my gun or let it be?🎶 🎶There is no beat no melody 🎶#🎶 Sonic a young hedgehog whom I consider an uneasy ally and had our first rivalry Maybe the last face I ever see 🎶#🎶 If I throw away my shot is this how you'll remember me? 🎶 🎶 What if this sacrifice is my legacy? Legacy what is a legacy? 🎶#🎶 It's planting seeds in a garden you never get to see 🎶 🎶 I wrote some notes at the beginning of a song someone will sing for me 🎶🎶#🎶Earth you great unfinished symphony it was too much of a Mad Mad Mad Mad World for me 🎶#🎶 You let me make a difference a place where even weird technicolour space alien orphan children 🎶#🎶 Can leave their fingerprints and rise up I'm running out of time I'm running and my time's up 🎶#🎶 Wise up eyes up I catch a glimpse of the other side 🎶 🎶My creator my father Gerald Robotnik is on the other side 🎶#🎶 He's with his granddaughter Maria who’s on the other side Teach me how to say goodbye 🎶 🎶 Rise up rise up rise up MARIA! 🎶#🎶 My best friend my sister I’d love you to take your time 🎶 “I'll give them a chance to be happy…”#Company: 🎶 he uses the very last of his chaos energy- Movie Shadow: “CHAOS CONTROL!” Movie Sonic: “WAIT!”#Movie Sonic: “He was unable to maintain his super transformation form any longer” “I tried to stop him but he punched me away”#“I get a drink” = “I get a chilli dog 💀”#🎶Aaaah Aaaah Aaaah 🎶#“I hear cheering in the streets” 🎶Aaaah Aaaah Aaaah 🎶#🎶 They say Gerald and Shadow Were both at her side when she died 🎶#🎶 Death doesn't discriminate Between the sinners and the saints it takes and it takes and it takes 🎶#🎶History obliterates in every picture it paints It paints me and all my mistakes 🎶#Movie Sonic: 🎶 Before Shadow The Hedgehog feel down to Earth he aimed at the sky He may have been the first one to die 🎶#🎶 But I'm the one who paid for it I survived but I paid for it 🎶 🎶Now I’m the “hero” in your history I was too young and blind to see 🎶#🎶I should've known I should've known the world was wide enough for both The Ultimate Lifeform and me 🎶#🎶The World Was Wide Enough For both The Ultimate Lifeform and me… 😭🎶

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mj-iza-writer · 2 months

Note

I don’t really know if you like this type of whump but i gathered up the courage

Human caretaker who has a rough backstory with vampires (maybe their whole family got killed or they almost died to vampires in the past?) saving vampire whumpee from vampire hunter whumpers

Sorry this took so long to post back. I absolutely love vampire stories, and I love this idea so much. I hope you never feel nervous about asking me for a request, I absolutely love doing them. Thankyou so much, I hope you enjoy.

Caretaker sat by the fire, the only noises were their occasional sip from their tea, and the gentle crackle of the fire.

Caretaker had been reading a book their father had written before he died. It was titled **How to Kill Vampires**.

Caretaker read the book, feeling as though their father was telling the stories in person. Unfortunately, their father had gotten to cocky in a fight with a stronger than average vampire. They died from their injuries soon after.

Caretaker hated vampires. They only wished they had enough courage to hunt them. They could never follow in their families foot steps. Every member had met tragic ends.

The next morning Caretaker stepped outside to enjoy a leisure walk around their gardens.

The home they lived in had been in their family for generations. It still had remnants of the families' past. Caretaker had tried to make it more inviting now. They seemed to be ending the families' traditions.

Caretaker turned a corner and almost had a heart attack.

A body lay against one of the fountains. It was mostly in the shade of the statue, but the fingers was sticking out in the sun. Black smoke rose from the fingers.

"Vamp...vampire", Caretaker stepped back in fear and aww.

Tiny weak whimpers came from the body.

Caretaker inched cautiously to get a closer look. From a few feet, they could see a wooden spike laying in the limp hand of the vampire.

The vampire made a grimaced face and weakly pulled their body in from the sun. They didn't have long until the sun would fully envelope them.

Caretaker slowly turned and walked away, "the sun will take care of them soon and finish the job of whoever stabbed them. No need for me to get my hands dirty."

"Ple....", the vampire pleaded, "ple....", they gasped in pain.

"You dare beg me for mercy... you slime. Allow the sun to do the honor of killing you", Caretaker growled, "your kind killed plenty of my family. Why should I show you mercy?"

"I pro... protected yo.. your father Gerald", the vampire panted, "I'm Whum... Whumpee... the... they promised me a safe place if I-I ever needed it. He said I was th.. the only one he... he'd show mercy to", the vampire frowned, "I just ne..need to reco.."

"Whumpee?", Caretaker stepped back to get a closer look.

The vampire squinted their eyes open and nodded weakly.

That was a story Caretaker's father purposely left out of their books. They didn't want anyone to know they had been saved by a vampire, then showed them mercy.

"Is Ger..Gerald around?", Whumpee sighed as they felt the sun come close to their foot.

"He died a while ago", Caretaker knelt down, "how did you know about me?"

Whumpee groaned as they tried to pull their body in tighter.

"Oh right... give me a second", Caretaker got up and ran for a nearby shed.

They pulled out a tarp and hurried to the vampire.

"I allow you into my home", Caretaker stated loudly before running inside of the house and down to the dungeon.

"I'm sorry, but I still don't know if I trust you", Caretaker laid the vampire on the floor and reached for some shackles hanging on the wall.

"I don't care", Whumpee winced as they felt the cuff tighten around their wrist and click, "just as long as you let me lay like this, I don't care what you do to me."

Caretaker knelt down a few feet away, "how did you know about me and where this house was?"

"While Gerald was healing from his wounds, he told me stories and showed me a few pictures of his family. I brought him here when he had enough strength", Whumpee whimpered as they moved their hand.

It was the first time Caretaker had seen the wound.

"They got you good, huh?", Caretaker frowned.

"Ymph", Whumpee grunted, "that's what I get for taking blood so close to the road. It wasn't even worth it either. The blood was dead already."

Caretaker made a terrified face.

"Relax. It was from a dead animal that had just gotten run over", Whumpee whispered, "I don't take from humans unless I'm desperate. They consent most of the time for me to do it."

"May.... may I rest for a while", Whumpee whispered, "I'll answer more questions later if you want."

Caretaker nodded and got up to leave.

"Thankyou for giving me sanctuary. I will be out of your hair soon", Whumpee mumbled into the floor.

Caretaker nodded, then left.

"I don't have the heart to tell them they are staying. I may not be able to kill them, but I can keep them here. I can protect people in that way at least", Caretaker crept up the stairs, "in a way I will be protecting them too... right? Maybe I can honor my father by protecting them and others."

Just before Caretaker decided to go down to the dungeon to break the news to Whumpee that they were being kept as a prisoner a knock came to the door.

Caretaker hurried to answer it.

"Hello" a person in heavy equipment greeted, "I was hunting vampires last night and I seemed to have lost one. A witness said they were seen on your property."

"Yes I found them this morning. They have been taken care of", Caretaker smiled, "I'm from a family of hunters myself. Thankyou for what you are doing though."

"I need to check to ensure they are gone?", the person grinned with fire in their eyes.

"I let them fade into the sun, all that's left is the stake that was stabbed into them", Caretaker watched the judgemental look, "how many vampires do you know that can survive the sun?"

"Not many, but I know you aren't one for killing them. That's why I started to do it", they smirked, "so where are they then?"

"Fine, you caught me. In my families dungeon, where they will remain for good", Caretaker frowned, "you may not go check on them. Matter of factly, you can get off of this property."

"No need to be so testy. I'm only doing what you wouldn't. You're a shame to your father and your family", they frowned.

"I mean you're fresh meat... a newbie, you probably have markings all over your back. A vampire is just waiting to take your life force", Caretaker sighed, "I don't need you coming in here with targets on your back. You'd be allowing vampires in without them being invited into my home. I don't need that."

The hunter made a confused face.

"You really didn't research, did you?", Caretaker frowned, "not all vampires survive soly on blood. There are other ways they take your life force as well. Have you been blessed by a priest to protect against that."

"You're speaking nonsense", the hunter forced themself in and overpowered Caretaker, "lead me to the dungeon."

A dagger was poked into Caretaker's back.

"You don't know what you're doing", Caretaker started to walk.

"Shut up, you don't know what you talking about", the hunter warned.

"Right, the rightful descendent of a family of vampire hunters doesn't know what they're talking about", Caretaker frowned.

"I said shut up", Caretaker received a slap on the back of their head.

They followed Caretaker into the dungeon and down the steps.

Whumpee had sat up now. When they saw who was coming, they lifted their knees to their chest and frowned.

"You again?", Whumpee frowned, "not much in way of sanctuary if you deliver the killer to their prey", Whumpee looked at Caretaker.

"I tried. There's a dagger pointed in my back. What do you want from me?", Caretaker argued.

"You've left me quite defenseless even. Chained to the wall. What is a vampire to do?", Whumpee grinned, revealing their fangs.

Caretaker was thrown to the side, and they fell to the floor.

Whumpee looked at the hunter angrily, "you're weak. You can't call yourself a hunter if you haven't had the right training."

"And yet, I'm about to kill you", the hunter laughed, "they are about to keep you a prisoner here. I'm only saving you from permanent imprisonment."

Whumpee frowned at Caretaker.

"I was coming to tel...

"Oh shut up", Whumpee snapped their fingers at the hunter.

The hunter automatically froze in place.

"You did mark them?", Caretaker frowned, "so you take life force as much as you take blood?"

Whumpee nodded, "I need to feed from them, I can't heal my wounds completely without it."

"I can't let you", Caretaker frowned.

Whumpee stood up weakly and limped to the hunter, "you don't get a say in this. My mark is on them. I'm not taking it away. I have to save myself too."

Caretaker got up and stood in front of Whumpee to block them, "I won't allow it."

"Look, I gave up a lot of things after I protected and healed your father. That included drinking human blood unless I absolutely have to. Animal blood will not heal me", Whumpee limped forward, ignoring Caretaker. The chains jingled at their movements.

"Why would you do that?", Caretaker frowned, "vampires are monsters?"

"I use to think the same about hunters until I met Gerald. Not all hunters are bad and not all vampires are bad. At first they were as uncertain as I was, but they allowed me to do what needed to be done to heal them", Whumpee gulped down a knot, "I'm staring at the one who killed them. Am I not?", Whumpee looked past Caretaker at the hunter.

Caretaker turned to see the hunter nodding with tears running down their face.

"Your father allowed me to mark him as mine. They were my special human. They couldn't be killed by vampires, I do hold some respect for actual hunters. Your family was always respectful. There was no way your father was killed by one of us. A human did it."

Whumpee frowned, "the stake they used on me had your father's markings on them. I looked after I pulled it out."

Caretaker looked at Whumpee sadly, tears threatened to fall.

"I need you to allow me to avenge their death. Your father was dear to me, let me have this", Whumpee pleaded, "you don't have to watch. Your father always said you were sensitive to these things. He always said you would amount to so much because you were not wanting to follow in the family business. Let me avenge Gerald for you."

Caretaker turned to the hunter.

"Did you really kill my father?"

"Answer them", Whumpee knelt down weakly, "tell us what you did", they ordered.

"I surprised Gerald from behind while they were hiking in the forest. I attacked them and killed them. Then staged it to look like a vampire attack. I stole what was left of their equipment", the hunter still looked like they were in a trance, "after taking their things to my home, I led the police to the scene. The story was retold and retold until it became the truth. No one would ever know it was staged. I would fall in line as the next great hunter."

"Though you're an idiot who did it all wrong?", Whumpee frowned, "nod your head to agree."

The hunter had more tears as their body obeyed the vampire.

"That's why hunters get blessed by priest so they don't become mindless puppets", Caretaker stated.

"Give me a while to feed", Whumpee frowned, "they killed my friend. Gerald's blood screams for vengeance, and they almost killed his legacy."

Caretaker's legs felt like lead as they started to walk away from them.

"Come, kneel before me" Caretaker heard Whumpee order. They didn't dare turn and look.

Whumpee sank their teeth into the hunter's neck and snapped their fingers.

Caretaker heard the person scream then gargle cry as they climbed the stairs out of the dungeon.

They waited until late evening before going back down into the dungeon. They didn't want to see anything, and they dreaded the knowledge that the body was still down their.

They came closer to where Whumpee was.

"I was beginning to wonder if you'd ever come back down here again", Whumpee smirked.

"Where is the body?", Caretaker frowned. There wasn't any sign of them.

"You hit the nail on the head when you asked if I took life forces. I don't leave anything behind when I feed", Whumpee frowned.

Their was silence between the both of them.

"So you want a vampire prisoner huh?", Whumpee snickered.

"Th-that was before I knew all of this", Caretaker frowned, "I'm sorry I've spent so long hating all of you because I didn't know. I almost let you die because of it. I'm sorry."

"It's alright", Whumpee grinned, "I can be a prisoner if you want. As long as a few rules are followed. I think you could use a vampire roaming the house, keeping you safe. You don't exactly carry the same presence your father carried. Plus, that idiot burnt my hideout down last night."

"Oh so you need a place to stay is what you're saying", Caretaker grinned.

"It will be perfect for the both of us", Whumpee grinned, "you can keep me in shackles if you want, I don't care. I'm old enough, I've had my fun. I guess I could use a change. I enjoy letting humans think these things can keep me controlled."

Caretaker frowned.

"I mean, oh no chains", Whumpee stated sarcastically, "I won't injure a descendent of Gerald though. I will protect you."

"As comforting as that sounds. I-I don't know about this. It kind of defeats the purpose of this building", Caretaker sighed.

"You defeated the purpose of this place a long time ago. You refused to hunt vampires. Now you have gardens growing where blood was once shed", Whumpee frowned.

Caretaker looked down shamefully.

"I'm not saying that to make you feel bad. My point is things can change, this place your family. You don't have to hold onto those traditions so tightly. Your father was proud of the person you were becoming", Whumpee looked around, "you could use some protection though."

Caretaker agreed, "can you tell me about those days when you healed him? I feel like he didn't tell us everything."

"They probably didn't. It would go against the hunter's code" Whumpee laughed.

Caretaker sat down, "and how were you able to mark them."

"As long as your father allowed me to, I could break through the seal the priest set. I am very old, I've learned to do a lot of things", Whumpee sat for a minute to think, "okay I'll tell you the story."

"It was cold that night", Whumpee started, "I had been following Gerald for a few miles. I knew who they were, and I kept my distance, but I was still curious. They had gotten attacked by a bear. Their camp was destroyed, and they were badly injured. Their blood was actually what got my attention."

"They were trying to get home or to safety. They collapsed and kept mumbling that they needed to get home. I showed myself after they collapsed."

Whumpee laughed, "they were startled when they saw me. 'Typical bloodsucker like vultures. I won't let you eat me'. I only rolled my eyes. I wanted to see the great hunter up close, I told Gerald. Leave it to a bear to do you in."

Caretaker listened curiously. It sounded just like their father. This was a different story though, not how their father told it.

"After a few minutes of watching them fail to kill me and cursing at me, I offered them a hand after they fell face first into the snow."

"They asked why I would help them. I told them I needed to have some fun. Plus they helped keep the vampire population low. I knew they planned on killing me at some point, but that was the fun of it. I got them to my hideout and into my bed. Cleaned and dressed the wounds, fed and hydrated. It took forever to get Gerald to rest though. They were so tired by the time they fell alseep."

Whumpee smiled, "I had that pain in the butt for a good month or more. I carried many messages between Gerald and your mother. That is the true reason why I knew where this house was. Finally, they had enough strength for me to get them down the mountain and here. They allowed me to leave my mark on them to keep them safe after that. I could check in occasionally, but I've been gone for a long time apparently."

"Yes its been a while", Caretaker nodded.

They sat in silence for a while again.

"I'll let you have this dungeon for your own space... if that's alright. The other rooms have windows", Caretaker sighed, "be careful if you go up there during the day. It's very sunny. You'll be safe down here. It's not like this is being used anymore."

"Thankyou", Whumpee grinned, "so I take it the Madame has passed as well. She tried to kill me the first time I came here as well. She was very kind after that. She would occasionally offer the neck of a prisoner to feed me", Whumpee chuckled.

"That sounds like my mom", Caretaker laughed, "she passed a little after my father."

Whumpee nodded, "I see."

In the night Caretaker found themself awake staring at the ceiling. Many thoughts on their mind.

They heard the floors creak outside of their room.

"Oh right, on top of everything I've allowed a vampire into my home", Caretaker sat up as they heard the creaking go down the hall, "where are they going?"

Caretaker quietly wandered down the hall until they heard Whumpee whispering.

They peaked around the corner to see Whumpee sitting on the floor looking at a painting of Gerald and the Madame.

Whumpee turned to see Caretaker.

"I didn't mean to wake you. I was just, uh, talking to my old friend."

"I do that occasionally. You didn't wake me, I have a lot of things going through my mind. My world feels like it was turned upside-down today", Caretaker came closer.

"I know the feeling", Whumpee nodded.

"So what's next?", Caretaker frowned.

"I don't know. That's for you to decide. I'm not limited by time anymore", Whumpee stood up, "I'll be here to protect you now. I promise Gerald that much."

"Thankyou", Caretaker watched Whumpee take another glance at the picture before they walked away.

"Dawn is approaching. You should get some rest', Whumpee spoke over their shoulder.

Caretaker nodded in agreement.

They went to bed after that. Mind still racing.

"What a turn of events. The descendent of vampire hunters is now being protected by a vampire", Caretaker smiled as they rolled over to fall asleep.

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