#jean-pierre magnan x reader

[feltit-wroteit]

Better For Me. Not You.

Jean-Pierre Magnan x Reader

Your boyfriend doesn't understand why you need to attend school when you have him to teach you. But, for you, there is nothing more important than getting an high education. A fight might be what your boyfriend needs in order to not make a fuss at school.

You had arrived in France after your parents decided England had became to bland. Sure it was a huge change, but not a sad one. You didn't have a lot of friends back in England so nothing was left when you set trail. But here, it was perfect.

On your first day, your parents went to buy some meet at the Magnan's and that is where you met Jean-Pierre. You two immediately clicked and the rest was history. It started with you going back every few days to purchase new meat and finished with Jean-Pierre courting you and becoming your boyfriend. It wasn't hard for you to fall in love with him. He was like the men you read about in your books that your parents had bought when moving here.

Jean-Pierre taught you everything he knew when you had asked him if he could. Schools for girls were very prestegious and you hadn't known a thing beside litterature. He was the perfect teacher. Always taking his time when you didn't understand something. You now were almost his equal which meant you were more than an average student. That is what your boyfriend said anyways and that was enough validation for you.

Recently though, the relationship had been rocky. Jean-Pierre's school was oppening its door for a few girls and you had gotten and acceptable letter three weeks ago. It was your first day today, and officially the one week mark of you not talking to your boyfriend. He probably thought that he was the one ignoring you, but it was the other way around. You couldn't even look at him after what had happened that afternoon while you guys were havimg à nice pic-nic.

-One week ago-

"Fuck! I don't want you too. It should be the only good reason!" You looked at him and waited for him to say he was joking. Hoping he was joking. Nothing came..."I don't know what to say Jean-Pierre-" "Don't say anything. Just do as I say." Of course you knew your boyfriend had controling tendencies but he had never used them on you. "Jean-Pierre Magnan. You will not speak to me like that. I deserve respect. Besides, it doesn't matter what you want in this." He scoffed. "Well, yeah it does." You looked at him and finally decided to put your sandwich down. Your appetite was no longer there. "Oh yeah? And how may that be true? Explain away." You motioned for him to do so after whipping your hand clean from your lunch's remnants. "I am your future husband after all." He looked ta you with fire in his eyes. You looked at him with disgust. "What is that suppose to mean? That I can't be a good wife because I have an education. That I am less than a woman for wanting to do something that only men had the right to do not so long ago but should be reachable to anyone? You digust me right now Magnan." You voiced your thoughts and let your frustration take over. "No. But it means that you have me and that is plenty enough to learn- I don't want you around all these boys! There I said it." He tried to reach for your hand thinking this thing was resolved and it was now your turn to scoff. "How much of a man are you? Maybe I shouldn't be your wife since you think me for a brainless damsel who will jump at any boy in my usual unfaithfulness? You are selfish." You said as you pulled your hand from his getting up. He got up with you and you saw the regret painted on your face. But it was too late. "Y/N... That is not what I meant. I was being selfish. Pardon me, please?" "Good to see you taking responsibility for your actions. But your selfishness will get us nowhere. Maybe me going to school isn't good in your books, but in mine? It is too good to be true. And you, of all people, know how bad I want this. Shame on you Magnan." You stabbed his chest with your index finger and let tears fall from your eyes. "I am so sorry, darling. Please forgive me. I lost my thoughts-I-I..." You looked in his eyes and pulled your finger away from his chest. Silence was the inly thing leaving your mouth and that didn't sit well with your boyfriend. You picked your stuff up from the ground and went to leave. "What are you doing, Y/N?" He followed you slightly. You turned around and made a distance with your hand gently placed on his abdomen. "I think it's better if we both take time to breath. See you at school Jean-Pierre." You turned your back to him once more and left.

Jean-Pierre sat back down and slammed his fist on the grass after gripping his hair by the roots. "Fuck!"

-Now-

You were looking at the class board and you noticed your name after some slight searching. Right beside his. You sighed and went to see the other girls that had arrived. This day would be a long one.

When you entered your classroom, Jean-Pierre had kept you a seat beside him and smiled at you. You smiled slightly and went to sit at an empty desk. First period was soent with him looking at you and you trying to focus and answer all of the teachers' questions. The teachers were pretty impression and the other boys were now looking at you too. Not in any way were you comfortable. They were looking at you like a rat in a labotary. Maybe you should've sat with your boyfriend at the front.

When it was time for lunch, you made your way to the cafeteria but were snatched from the waist. You let a squeak out and landed in a man's embrace. "Let go of me! I'm married!" You screamed and only heard a laugh. "We're married now? I thought we were at the divorce stage, darling." The man let you go and you replaced your hair. "Jean-Pierre." You curtsied. "Oh dear Y/N, please forgive me? I can't live with the thought of you hating me. I admit, I was dumb." You looked him dead in the eye and nodded. "I trust you. But please, promise me to never be this controling of me ever again. I won't let it slide quite easily next time." You stayed cold and he nodded fastly. He went forward and reached for your hand. He laid a quick but soft kiss on your lips and smiled "I promise, darling! But can tou sit next to me? A compromise? I don't like all of them eating you up from their stares. I know you answering all the question is attractive, but only I can look at you with wanting eyes. Right?" You both laughed slightly. "Of course my love. Besides I was not comfortable amd want to dedicate all of my attention to the subject at hand." He smiled at you and replaced a stray strand of hair behind your ear. "Good." He kissed you again. "Good you replied with a smile.

While walking to the cafeteria, your head was rethinking of specific thing your boyfriend had said in that room. "So... You were dumb, huh? Do I make your head go mushy, mister Magnan?" You nudged your shoulder against his. "Oh shut it! You're stupid-" You faked a dramatic gasp. "Take thay back right now, Jean-Pierre Magnan!" There was a beat of silence before you burst in laughter.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

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

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

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

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Chapter two: My eye only

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

Heels clack against the hardwood floor, making it creak.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"The French and the Germans." Annick answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Are you okay?" Michèle asks worriedly.

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

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

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

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

"Do you like him?" Simone asks me.

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"You're just lucky." Michèle detests.

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》×��

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

Applebaum walks behind us. I turn and smile.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Annick raises her hand and calls out for the coach.

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

××《☆》××

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

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

"Who first?" No one answers.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Once he finishes, his hand stays on my thigh.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

"Probably." They laugh, too.

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter two: My eye only

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

××《☆》××

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

[meltinghun]

Complicated ; Jean-Pierre Magnan.

summary; since the start of the school year, Jean-Pierre and reader have competed with each other for the first place on everything, that is until reader starts to neglect herself.

warnings: fem!reader, ANGST!!!, fluff, swearing, academic enemies-to-lovers, feelings of failure, reader has a shitty family AND doesn't take care of her health (dead dove do not eat? idk?), canon typical misogyny, they're so mean but they like each other (i promise!!).

w/c: 2.8k

author note: i want to thank everyone who encouraged me to keep writting, your comments made me blush and giggle so hard, omg!!!! <3

I got stuck in this o.s for more than a month because I really liked the idea but I wasn't convinced on how it was turning out, but anyways, I had to upload something after being inactive for so long lmao.

The latin teacher handed each student their graded exams, occasionally throwing back handed comments when he saw necessary, visibly enjoying the defeated faces of the students that didn't receive a satisfactory grade.

With an audible sigh, he extended the paper towards Y/N, shaking his head to emphatise his dissaprovement.

"You were the only reason as to why I was starting to believe that it was a good idea to integrate girls to the school." He raised his eyebrows. "But I'm starting to regret it."

The loud comment reverberated on the walls and hurt her ears, making her shrink in her seat with embarrassment when the big red 7/20 was placed in front of her. When the professor continued walking around, she heard a subtle chuckle coming from the left, turning her head in that direction. Founding a pair of big green eyes already staring at her in amusement.

"And I'm starting to believe that, after all, you are not a threat at all." A small smirk painted his face before continuing. "Maybe you fooled all of us into believing that you were actually smart, but I guess you aren't at all."

Her throat closed at the same time that she felt the need to throw up, she didn't knew what was wrong with her, she stayed up late studying for the tests, wrote her own resumes and even recited them out loud to try and memorize it, but no matter what she tried, the formulas didn't seem to stick to her brain, the numbers and symbols seemed like the exact same thing and confused them with each other and even the words of her history homework seemed to be written on a foreign language. She felt like a failure ever since her parents started to demand even better grades than she already had, spending her days and nights studying and having little to almost no sleep at all, investing all her time into trying to regain her star student position.

She was exhausted, sometimes even getting to the point of hallucinating things from the lack of rest, but convincing herself that she didn't deserve it until her parents were more than proud of her. And that seemed so far away.

Blinking away the tears, she tried to keep up with her facade, "Maybe you should start to mind your own business, Magnan." She managed to spat through gritted teeth.

"And that's where you're wrong, again." She groaned in annoyance. "See, when something makes you feel miserable, it is completly of my business because it makes me feel amazing."

She took a sharp inhale, and before she could say something, the sound of the bell indicating the start of reccess pierced the air. Rapidly, she gathered her belongings and almost sprinted out of the classroom, earning a severe reprimend from the teacher that she didn't care enough to hear.

"Miss L/N!" He made an offended sound. "Women, they are so sensitive... That's why they don't belong here."

She made a straight path towards the teachers restrooms, and only after locking the door did she allowed herself to let out a choked sob. The tears falling down and making a mess everywere, a hand coming up her face to try to muffle her desperate cries.

She really didn't know what was wrong with her.

Maybe she was the problem.

Everything came down like a ton of bricks falling on her, from the pressure of trying to be a role model for her family, to the hurtful words of Jean-Pierre that striked a nerve. Usually it wouldn't bother her that much and instead she would have a comeback ready to throw at him, but lately that wasn't the case, the highlights of her day used to be the moments were they started bickering at each other, sharing defying looks and victorius smirks in the way. She awaited those moments so eagerly.

But now she was lacking the strength to think on a smart jab to get right back at him, and even when she did manage to come up with something, it didn't bring her any satisfaction at all like it used to. Instead, she just felt drained.

Once again, the bell rang indicating to everyone that the classes resumed once again, but rather of getting out of her little hiding spot, she just stayed there, not feeling ready to face yet another deception.

Nor face again those mesmerizing green eyes.

A sharp headache made her wince slighty, she's been having them since a few days ago, sometimes were more powerful than others and today it seemed like one of the days were she felt like digging out her brain out of her head. She splashed some water on her face and looked at the mirror, looking away almost immediately when she took note of how sick she looked.

Opening the door, she carefully made her way to the infirmary, thinking to herself that some minutes with the school's nurse could excuse her absence in the class. A sudden feeling of dizziness caused by the sudden movement almost made her trip over, but before it happened, a strong hand took hold of her arm, keeping her from falling.

"What is wrong with you? Where the hell were you?" Jean-Pierre gave her a severe look that harbored his concern.

"I already told you to mind your own business." With all the strength she could muster, she pushed herself free out of his hold, the anger bubbling on her veins. "I don't owe you nothing, so get out of my sight and leave me the fuck alone. You would do me a great fucking favor."

Her harsh words left him completly dumbfounded, never before had she talked to him like that, even on the days when he annoyed her out of her mind. He saw how she moved towards the stairs, holding tightly onto the rails; moving closer to her hunched form, he felt the sudden and desperate need to ask her what was the problem, if he could help her in any way.

"I'm here against my will, Miss Couret sent me to look out for you." Was the only thing that came out of his mouth. "She was worried because she didn't saw you at recess, even more when you weren't at the classroom."

The lie slipped off naturally from him. Miss Couret didn't sent him to look out for her, he scaped class by coming up with some excuse about needing to ask something important about his latin competence, the truth was that he was the one who worried about her absence. But she didn't need to know that tiny detail.

Jean-Pierre would never admit it out loud, but he saw the drastic change on his rival's attitude, and it got him concerned. He would secretly listen to conversations of her friends that involved Y/N herself as a main topic, that's how he got to know how strict her parents were with her and it made his stomach churn with worry.

The weird thing was, he really didn't know why he cared so much, neither why he couldn't stop thinking about her. She was the first thing on his mind when he waked up, thinking about new ways to annoy her and have her total attention on him, he thought about her on the afternoon while doing homework, wondering if she managed to do the excersices better that him, and she was also his last thought before dozing up to sleep, anxiously waiting for the morning to come to do that rutine all over again.

He really didn't knew why.

A grip on his sleeve made him stop on his tracks and turn his torso towards her, his free hand instinctively coming up to rest it on her forearm.

"I think I will pass up." She mumbled with a lost look on her eyes. "If you let me fall, I will kill you, Magnan."

And not even a second later, everything turned black to her.

- - - - - - - - - -

The fist thing she noticed was the slight smell of pine blending up with the strong one coming out of the medicines, a small sigh leaving her lips before opening her eyes, stumbling almost immediately with the image of Jean-Pierre sitting beside the bed she was lying, and from what she could see, he was engrossed with a latin book.

Her heart raced and a hundred thoughts per second invaded her head. He could've left her with the nurse to come back to class, why was her still there? Was he waiting for her to wake up? But also, what if he was only there to be the first one to laugh at her? The questions overwhelmed her inmensely, so she decided to ask first the important ones.

"How long have I've been unconsious?" The sudden sound of her voice making him shot his head up, she could swore he almost looked relieved.

"I, uhm... Here, I bet you are thirsty." He cleared his voice before handing her a cup of water. "It wasn't for that long, just a couple hours. The school's over in less than forty minutes, so we can go home anytime."

She emitted a groan. "No wonder why I feel like I slept for years, I missed the whole day!" Leaving the cup on the bedside table, she glanced quickly around the nursery. "Where's Mrs. Bellanger?"

"Some kid was playing too hard and broke his arm in the process, she told me to keep an eye on you while she took him to the hospital." He paused, momentarily doubting if he should keep going. "She also told me that you passed out due to a huge lack of sleep and a possible unbalanced diet. Tell me, did you thought that it was smart? To harm yourself in order to have the acceptance of some idiots who can't see your real value? It's not worth it if you end up like this."

As if it were an habit, her eyes got teary, losing the count on how many times she cried on the day. It bothered her so much, even more that it was happening in his presence. For a moment, he almost sounded so consternated... But either way, she wouldn't tolerate being scolded like a kid.

"Excuse you?" She exclaimed, an evident frown on her face.

"Don't try to play dumb. You know what I mean."

"Oh, so you want to know why? I'm the first granddaughter, the first niece, the first child, the older sister... It's obvious that I have to make some sacrifices, even if it's at my own expense. After all, everyone expects so much more from me." The words came out slower than before and full of venom. "Yes, it may not be really healthy, but I push myself because it's the only way to make them proud of me, and it's something that I believed you would understand, Magnan."

"And you are not wrong, I do understand you." He took a few seconds before saying his next words. "That's why I don't want you to pressure yourself to be someone that you aren't, I know what it's like to be pressured by your parents -..."

"No, you don't. You don't know how my parents are!" She interrupted him. "You don't know how it is to be belittled when you don't achieve something worthy of their interest, you don't know how its like to feel proud of yourself because you thought that you finally did something right just to find out that you failed again, or to spend every second of the day studying, priving yourself of having a social life just to feel miserable at the end of the day. And you definitely don't know how it's like to live your whole life without knowing if your family even likes you."

She didn't know when she started to cry, much less in what moment Jean-Pierre got close enough to wrap her in a tight embrace. But suddenly, she felt like the constant emptiness in her chest was being filled with something much greater than a temporary stability brought by false acceptance, it was an unknown warm and fuzzy feeling that made her anguish vanish away. It felt like that was all she needed throughout her life.

They pulled apart slowly, his hands immediately went to her face to wipe away any traces left of tears on her cheeks, and they stood there, looking at each others eyes, feeling as if they were frozen in time. 

"I may not understand entirely, but I can learn how to." He murmured. "I really want to understand you."

"But why would you bother?" She asked, confused and desperate to know. "Since the moment we met, the only thing we do is argue, we hate each other!... I tried to hurt you so many times and you have done the same to me, so please, make me understand, why would you want to help me? Why do you care?"

"Because I care about you, deeply." The words came out breathless, his eyes trying to desperately find her gaze. "I really don't know how to describe what I feel, but I do know that every time I see you, my heart goes crazy, and sometimes I wonder if it will come the day where it's going to jump out of my chest to go chasing after you. I know that every time you laugh with another person, I wish with all my soul to, someday, be worthy enough to be the cause of your smile. But I do know that if I hated you, really did, I would be happy for your downfall, but I'm not, because I can't force me to act as if I don't care about you, not anymore."

Jean-Pierre wasn't a man or words. All his life he struggled to express his feelings, but this time, it was different.

"One of the things I admire you for is the way that you don't never give up, it doesn't matter how many times I get a slighty better mark, you study harder until beating me up the next time we have an exam. You are resilient, and so damn smart that it makes me feel jealous sometimes, because I wish I could have a little bit of the determination that you possess, and I can't comprehend why you focus on your non existing flaws and ignore all your strenghts."

"I never thought..." She began with a whisper, attempting to make a joke in order to not break down completely. "I never thought that someone could ever think that highly of me, not even you."

"How could I not? You are the most incredible person I ever met, Y/N."

A violent sob reverberated on the nursery walls, and before she could even feel shame for shattering that easily due to the sweetest words she ever heard, she found herself on Jean-Pierre's hold once again.

It felt like they spend a lifetime in that embrace, hearing nothing more than the rapid beats of their hearts and sharing everything they didn't had the courage to say out loud, not yet. Squeezing the hug one last time before breaking away, she dried her face with the sleeves of her blouse, his adoring eyes never leaving her.

"Now, what? What's next from this point?" Fearfully, she asked.

"Now... I will walk you home." Seeing her confused frown, he added rapidly. "If you want to be the number one, you have to be better than me, and the first step to achieve that is to sleep well and eat some real food. You have to take care of yourself, then we will work on the rest."

"We? You will help me beating you up?"

"I want to help you to become a better version of yourself. If that costs me becoming the second of the class, then so be it."

He extended his arm in her direction, encouraging her to hold it. Slowly, she got up from the bed and hooked their arms together.

"I must admit that my home is far away and I came walking today, so you can still back down if you want."  

"Only a fool could reject such offering."

She exhaled a shaky breath, never expecting that answer. As they made their way towards the door, a sudden question hitted her.

"How did you know about my problem with my family?"

"I accidentally overheard a conversation, I didn't realise it was about you until they named you." An overwhelming warmth creeping up his face.

"Of course, 'accidentally'."

"Shut up." His reddening cheeks and the obvious attempt of a lie didn't went unnoticed, earning a light giggle from the girl.

That fluttery sensation came back to her. She never thought that it would be possible to feel this smitten over someone, even if she still struggled to admit it. While the boy couldn't stop thinking of how fortunate he felt in those moments, with the person he couldn't stop dreaming about holding onto him and walking her home for the first time, and hopefully not last. The warm breeze of the spring surrounding them as they made their way out of the school between laughs and jokes, secretly wishing to have more moments like this one in the future.

[nolnoll]

MIXTE1963 , — i recently watched it n im so surprised that this french serie were so good , as a french person i rlly appreciate it! i made some searches for helping people to more understand the serie , for having the historical/ political context , (also made this post for encouraging people to write abt it) i hope that Mixte 1963 became more famous and i’m so sad that there is literally no fandom , btw for the future i will make maybe fanfic, hcs idk if it’s interest people lol . ++ im soo sorry for my english, im french 😔

VOLTAIRE HIGH

the serie take place at St Jean d’Angely a little rural town near La Rochelle.

the 11 girls came in because there is no enough places at the others high schools, and the others school near Voltaire high are expensive.

*Annick explain that in the 1st episode to Miss Couret.. when they almost to be fired after the accident

Laubrac the foster kid

The public Assistance was created by the French State, consisted principally at the WW2 to help the families to give up their child by the fault of war context, financial problems, or death of the family…

this publication have more detailed informations

The reason why he is hated by some people is because the Assistance’s children are adopted, they don’t have their real parents/families they are considered as : «Batard » which mean a child with no family, at the 20th century’s and before that was a shame to be adopted or coming from The Public Assistance.

Simone the foreign girl

She is a pied noir and her family too , it mean that her family are french but moved to Alger ( capital of Algeria ) due probably to the french invasion or the Algeria war,

The pieds noirs were hated for multiple reasons but principally they were blamed for the Algeria war who caused the fall of the 4th Republic.

maybe i will add more things 🖤 hope u likes it

[willcmsv]

Soft Launch - Alain Laubrac x Fem Reader (FR)

The story that follows is in French for my French Voltaire High's fans, English version is posted there!

Requested by @babydeersblog

Synopsis: Alain et toi aviez fait connaissance au début de l’année et aviez été associé à plusieurs travaux de groupes, ce qui a permis de faire évoluer votre relation au fur et à mesure. Cependant, après avoir été moqué lorsque tu as avoué des sentiments à un garçon, tu as décidé de les garder pour toi et de ne plus faire transparaître des traces d’amour. Mais Alain te fait malheureusement ressentir quelque chose que tu aimerais découvrir davantage.

Warnings: petits changements dans l'histoire de base.

Notes: n’hésitez pas à me recommander des idées de oneshots — j’écris en anglais et français!

Depuis le début de l’année, Alain et toi vous échangez des mots durant vos heures de cours. Tu as l’habitude de lui faire des petits dessins pendant qu’il t’écrit des citations ou des farces, dépendant de son humeur. Depuis son combat avec Joseph il y a quelques mois, tu es devenue la sorte d’ange gardien d’Alain, tu l’empêches de déraper et tu le défends lorsque tu en as l’occasion devant Joseph et ses amis.

Cependant, depuis ces dernières semaines, Joseph ne peut s’empêcher de vous taquiner en rappelant comment vous êtes proches et en assumant que vous vous aimez comme si cela était un jeu. Mais Joseph était comme ça. Tout était drôle pour lui et tout n’était pas grave.

Lorsque tu rentres à la maison les week-ends, tu as le droit à l'interrogatoire privé de ton frère Jean-Pierre, comme si les questions bidons de Joseph ne suffisaient pas. Pour Jean-Pierre, tu étais et resteras toujours sa petite sœur qu'il doit chérir et protéger. Il a arrêté de te voir grandir à l'âge de neuf ans.

"C'est qui Alain ?" Demanda Jean-Pierre la seconde où tu déposas ton pied à l'intérieur de ta maison.

"Un ami. Question suivante ?" Tu répondis.

Jean-Pierre fronça les sourcils. Pour lui, hors de question que tu sortes avec un garçon. Simone lui avait rappelé plusieurs fois que tu avais dix-sept ans et que tu étais assez grande pour avoir un copain, mais il était têtu et ne voulait rien savoir concernant ce sujet.

"Apparemment non, ce n'est pas ce que Joseph prétend dire."

"Joseph ! Tu le crois vraiment lui ?! C'est un idiot et il aime lancer des rumeurs sur tout ce qui bouge. Je te croyais plus intelligent…" Tu affirmas en attrapant un verre que tu remplis soigneusement d'eau.

Après ton échange avec ton frère, tu te dirigeas vers ta chambre et découvre une lettre déposée sur ton lit. Elle est signée A.L.

Tu as reconnu tout de suite l'écriture de l'expéditeur et ses phrases toujours si originales que captivantes. Tu ne pus t'empêcher de sourire à chacune de ses lettres, à chacun de ses mots, de ses actions. Mais bien que cela devrait te rendre heureuse, au contraire, cela t'angoissait.

Chaque soir avant de dormir, tu réfléchissais à ce que tu voulais vraiment. Tu avais deux choix qui se présentaient à toi : lui avouer tes sentiments et risquer de te faire humilier comme auparavant, ou les garder secrets et peut-être perdre l'amour de ta vie.

L'amour de ta vie, c'est peut-être un grand mot.

Le lundi matin, après avoir quitté ton domicile, tu arrivas au lycée un peu plus tôt. Tu espérais surtout voir Alain.

"Matinale." Une voix masculine t'interpella.

Sans même te retourner, tu pus reconnaitre cette voix entre cents, même si ce n'était pas réjouissant pour toi.

"Joseph, qu'est-ce que tu me veux encore ?"

"Qu'est-ce que je te veux ? Qu'est-ce que tu me veux plutôt."

Tu leva ton sourcil, lançant inconsciemment un regard noir à Joseph.

"Même si le lycée ne me connait pas encore sous ce nom, je suis ravi de me présenter, Joseph le Cupidon." Il se baissa en mimant une révérence.

"Joseph le quoi ?!" Tu pouffas de rire à cette nouvelle imprévisible. "Tu te moques de moi, c'est ça ?"

"Est-ce que j'en ai l'air ?"

Mon sourire s'effaça immédiatement de mon visage lorsque je compris qu'en effet, il était complètement sérieux. Mais Joseph, sérieux ou non, n'est pas quelqu'un de confiance.

"Va te chercher un autre client." Tu répondis en tournant les talons.

"Tu n'as pas envie de savoir ce que ton cher Alain pense de toi ?" Un sourire narquois se forma sur les lèvres du blond.

"Pas forcément, et sûrement pas grâce à ton aide." Tu déclares.

"C’est dommage, je connais beaucoup de choses à son sujet et des choses qui pourraient t’intéresser-" Joseph s’arrêta dans sa phrase lorsque Alain arriva.

"Ça va Y/n ? Joseph…" Alain lança un coup d’œil confus à Joseph. "On peut déjà se préparer à aller en cours, t’en dis quoi ?"

Tu acquiesces et tous les deux partirent jusque dans les couloirs. Alain s’adossa au mur.

"Si Joseph t’embête, dis-le-moi."

"C’est Joseph, il est comme ça." Tu déclares.

Alain baissa son regard, comme s'il était contrarié, et contrarié par ce qui venait de se passer.

Lors du premier cours de la journée, tu ne pouvais t’empêcher de jeter de nombreux coups d’œil à Alain qui paraissait tellement concentré sur le cours. Tu étais aussi concentrée sur lui que lui sur son cours que tu ne te rendais pas compte que son regard était maintenant tourné vers toi.

Ses yeux bleus étaient encrés sur toi. Il ne bougea même pas lorsque ton regard rencontra le sien. Tes joues prirent soudainement une teinte de rose pendant qu’un sourire narquois se dessina sur le visage d’Alain.

À la sortie des cours, tu croises à nouveau la route de Joseph qui te supplia de t’accompagner jusqu’à chez toi puisque vous habitez près l’un de l’autre.

Alain, qui marchait quelques mètres plus loin, a pu apercevoir ta silhouette et celle de Joseph marcher côte à côte. Il ne put s’empêcher de ressentir de la jalousie. Pourquoi Joseph était-il toujours obligé d’être avec toi alors qu’il rêvait seulement d’être à sa place.

***

Le lendemain, Alain et toi aviez un travail de science à terminer, un travail qui t’obligeait à travailler pendant une durée indéfinie avec lui. Tu te réjouissais déjà d’avance de te retrouver avec lui, mais bizarrement, tu ressentais de la pression, comme si cela allait mal se passer.

Tu marches rapidement vers la salle de science en apercevant Alain qui était déjà assis sur une chaise au fond de la salle.

"Je suis en retard ?" Tu demandas.

"On va plutôt dire que je suis en avance." Alain te sourit avant de te tirer une chaise.

Le travail avança plus rapidement que prévu, tous les deux étiez concentrés, mais prenaient quelques poses afin de discuter de choses plus divertissantes et amusantes que les cours de sciences.

"Toi et Joseph, il y a…" Alain commença.

Tu écarquillas les yeux avant de répondre.

"Non, non ! C’est seulement un ami, il ne m’intéresse pas." Tu t’empressas de répondre.

Alain lança un coup d’œil à son cahier sans dire un mot, comme si ta réponse ne lui convenait pas.

Ses doigts tenaient fortement son crayon avec lequel il gribouillait dans le coin de son cahier.

Tes yeux parcouraient tout son visage, de ses boucles brunes jusqu'aux courbes fines de sa mâchoire.

"Ça ne va pas ?" Tu demandas finalement.

Les yeux d’Alain se fixèrent une nouvelle fois sur toi. Ils descendirent jusqu’à tes lèvres avant de remonter à tes yeux. Bien qu’il ne parlait pas, son regard en dévoilait tellement plus.

Tes battements de cœur s’accélèrent et tes lèvres te démangeaient de l’envie de l’embrasser.

Son visage se rapprocha doucement du tien, ton cœur manqua presque un battement.

"Ça bosse dur ?" Une voix masculine lâcha.

Alain et toi vous retournez en un sursaut avant d’apercevoir Joseph dans l’embrasure de la porte. Il te souriait de manière espiègle comme s'il avait fait ça exprès. Et tu étais sûre que c’était le cas.

"Je vais te laisser, Y/n. On se remet en commun demain." Alain remballa ses affaires et te lança un bref sourire avant de s’en aller, frôlant légèrement Joseph.

"Ça t’amuse ?!" Tu déclares.

"J’ai cru que tu n’étais pas intéressée ?" Un sourire narquois apparut sur les lèvres de Joseph.

***

L'après-midi, tu t'étais rendue à l'infirmerie pour prendre des médicaments pour soigner ton mal de ventre irrépressible. Avant que tu puisses à nouveau enfiler ton gilet, la porte s'ouvrit sur Alain.

"Hey..."

"Je- Je ne pensais pas voir quelqu'un ici à cette heure." Il affirma.

Son nez saignait légèrement et tu pouvais remarquer du sang sur ses phalanges.

"Tu t'es battu ?" Tu demandas directement.

Il ne répondit pas, ses lèvres se pincèrent et il détourna le regard. Des fois, le silence est plus fort que les mots.

Tu mouillas un coton avant d'attraper doucement sa main pour la désinfecter.

"C'était pas moi… Je n'ai pas commencé." Il murmura.

"C'est trop simple de dire ça à chaque fois, Alain."

Il inspira et expira un 'oui' silencieux et serra les dents lorsque tu appuyais sur sa plaie.

La proximité entre vous deux te permettait d'entendre les battements de son cœur et de sentir son regard sur toi pendant que tu désinfectais soigneusement sa blessure.

En déposant le coton sur la table à côté de vous, tu sentis la main immobile d'Alain frôler légèrement ta cuisse lorsque tu te déplaças.

Tu mordilles ta lèvre pour dissimuler ta préoccupation. Chacun de ses mouvements, de ses regards ou de ses mots te procurait toujours une sensation qui était impossible à décrire.

Il était devenu de plus en plus compliqué pour toi d'assumer tes sentiments sans toujours imaginer le pire. Cependant, tu voulais que ça marche avec Alain. Tu sentais toujours des papillons dans ton ventre lorsque tu le voyais te sourire dans la cour, ou lorsqu'il dissimulait des lettres dans ton sac. Sans compter les fois où tu pouvais croiser son chemin, comme dans l'infirmerie par exemple.

Tout te menait à lui et tu ressentais quelque chose de différent, quelque chose de captivant.

***

Le lendemain, après la fin des cours, Alain t’avait invité pour faire un tour en ville. Au début, vous marchiez en silence. Tes interactions avec lui n’étaient jamais aussi gênantes, et l’ambiance était presque pesante actuellement.

"Désolée pour hier…"

Alain tourna sa tête, presque étonné que tu t’excuses.

"Ce n’est pas ta faute." Il répondit brièvement.

Tu te mordais les lèvres, tu ne savais pas comment rendre l’ambiance plus joyeuse ou seulement moins morbide.

"Joseph est-" Tu commences avant de te faire interrompre par Alain.

"C’est toujours Joseph, Y/n. Sauf que Joseph prend un malin plaisir à t'embêter, je le remarque très bien. Il faut que tu l'ignores, parce qu'il ne va pas s'arrêter si rapidement. Alors arrange toi pour qu’il arrête, ou je vais m’en occuper moi-même."

Lorsqu’il finit de s’exprimer, tu n'as pu t’empêcher de sortir un court ‘non’ de ta bouche. Tu ne voulais pas qu’ils s’en prennent aux mains comme toujours.

Tu attrapes son bras pour le pousser légèrement vers toi. Soit tu attendais et tu risquais peut-être que la situation dégénère ou se finisse autrement que prévu, soit tu prenais ton courage à deux mains.

Alain te regardait de nouveau avec un regard rempli de désir. Tu ne savais pas ce que ce regard voulait exactement dire, mais bien que tu ne veuilles pas te tourner des films, il n’était en aucun cas amical.

"J’aimerais t’avoir à moi pour une fois… pour pouvoir agir sans que quelqu’un me coupe à chaque fois…" Alain affirma.

Vous arrivez dans une petite ruelle. Vous marchez de plus en plus lentement et vos corps se rapprochaient au fur et à mesure que vous avancez, jusqu'à ce que vos mains se frôlèrent à plusieurs reprises.

Vos deux regards se croisèrent lorsque vous sentez la main de l’autre. Alain s’avança devant toi et s’arrêta soudainement, ce qui mena à ton arrêt à toi aussi.

"Y/n, j'aimerais tellement que tu sois plus confiante, tu es jolie et intelligente. Ne te cache pas et ne te laisse pas marcher dessus par qui que ce soit."

Tes sourcils se levèrent lorsque tu entendis ses mots. Tes joues devinrent immédiatement rouges malgré le fait que tu essayais de les cacher.

Alain se pencha lentement vers toi, sa main se tendait vers ton bras. Il n’osait pas la poser autre part et attendait surtout une réponse de ta part pour le faire. Ses yeux se baissèrent de nouveau vers tes lèvres. Cependant, cette fois-ci, il ne détourna pas le regard. Malgré l’hésitation, il posa enfin ses lèvres sur les tiennes et tu répondis immédiatement au baiser. Ses lèvres douces s’appuyèrent contre les tiennes et bougeaient à la même allure que les tiennes.

Quelques secondes plus tard, vous reculez tous les deux vos visages et vous regardèrent dans les yeux avant qu’Alain t’affiche un sourire doux.

"Je n’aurais pas pensé faire ça ici… mais c’est même mieux." Il sourit et posa enfin une main sur ta taille.

Tu fus prise par les émotions et atteins à nouveau ses lèvres pour l’embrasser. Il appuya fermement sur ta taille en même temps que ses lèvres s’enfoncèrent dans les tiennes.

Sa respiration chaude soufflait contre ta peau et tu la sentais s’accélérer doucement.

Tu sentis ses lèvres former un sourire contre les tiennes et tu ne pus t'empêcher de sourire à ton tour.

De nouveau, tu sentais comme une sensation de flottement dans ton estomac. Sa main qui caressait tendrement ta taille et les mouvements de vos lèvres les unes contre les autres ne faisaient qu'empirer ton cas.

Cependant, ce que tu ne pouvais pas savoir était que du côté d'Alain, des tonnes d'émotions et de sensations envahissaient également son corps et faisait palpiter son cœur en rythme avec les battements du tien.

1758 mots.

[babydeersblog]

I’m so desperate for Alain Laubrac fics that I’m about to look in quotev, it’s bad, someone please write for him 🙏🏻

[satlun]

page 𝑜ne out of 𝒻our ♥︎ spell book

my 𝒸haracter 𝒶𝒾 account

❤︎ 𝒷ots

In case some of my bots don't show up on the application or website due to shadow banning.

Alain Laubrac from Mixte 1963/ Voltaire High

Bill Harford from Eyes Wide Shut

Billy Hargrove from Stranger Things

Edward Cullen from Twilight

Jacob Black from Twilight

Jean-Pierre Magnan from Mixte 1963

John Constantine from Constantine (2005)

Joseph Descamps from Mixte 1963/ Voltaire High

Karen Wheeler from Stranger Things

Keith Toshko from Barbarian

Kevin Lomax from The Devil's Advocate

Marquis De Gramont from John Wick: chapter 4

Ray Singleton from The Magic of Ordinary Days

Tommy Slater from Fear Street

Trip Fontaine from The Virgin Sui

❤︎ 𝒻ictions

one shot

Best Mistake: John Constantine x fem!reader

Sky Fall: John Constantine x fem!reader

Lust: John Constantine x fem!reader

Seduced in Blue: Tom Ludlow x fem!reader

Birthday Boudoir: Tom Ludlow x fem!reader

Unspoken Truth: Don John x fem! Reader

Vacation Boy: Johnny Utah x fem!reader

Deadly Nightshade: Kevin Lomax x fem!reader

The Deep End: John Constantine x fem!reader

Forsaken: Priest John Constantine x fem!reader

❤︎ 𝒽eadcanon

johnny Utah as your older brother

[girlystories]

*ೃ::RULES/GUIDELINES

Rules 📜

1. 🚫Off-limits: Smut, incest, anything sexual, any kinks or anything of the sort, character x character. 

2. Platonic, friendly, family, romantic and all other types of relationships.

3. I do scenarios, one-shots, and headcanons. When requesting it'd be important if you note what exactly you're requesting. 

5. I do all genders; female, male, gn. Just note which one you'd like, or otherwise I'll do it for gn.

6. Last thing, GIVE ME IDEAS. I would really appreciate it if you'd request what exactly you'd want my work to contain, instead of just stating a character (exp. character x reader)

List of fandoms

IT(2017)

Bower's gang: henry bowers, vic criss, patrick hockstetter, belch huggings, (all).

NINJAGO

The ninja: kai, nya, cole, jay, zane, lloyd.

Villains: morro, lord garmadon

Other: pixal, skyler. (for now)

DANGANRONPA

Danganronpa: Trigger Happy Havoc: makoto naegi, kyoko kirigiri, byakuya togami, toko fukawa/genocide jill, aoi asahina, yasuhiro hagakure, sayaka maizono, leon kuwata, chihiro fujisaki, mondo owada, kiyotaka ishimaru, celestia ludenberg, sakura ogami, junko enoshima, mukuro ikusaba.

Danganronpa 2: Goodbye Dispair: hajime hinata/izuru kamakura, chiaki nanami, nagito komaeda, fuyuhiko kuzuryu, akane owari, sonia nevermind, kazuichi soda, mahiru koizumi, peko pekoyama, ibuki mioda, hiyoko saionji, mikan tsumiki, nekomaru nidai, gundham tanaka.

Danganronpa V3: Killing Harmony: shuichi saihara, kaede akamatsu, k1-b0(kiibo), maki harukawa, himiko yumeno, rantaro amami, ryoma hoshi, kirumi tojo, tenko chabashira, korekiyo shinguji, miu iruma, gonta gokuhara, kokichi ouma, kaito momota, tsumugi shirogane.

Other: komaru naegi, yuta asahina, natsumi kuzuryu, sato, kyosuke munakata, chisa yukizome, ryota mitarai, seiko kimura, sonosuke izayoi, koichi kizakura, ruruka ando, juzo sakakura.

NARUTO/SHIPPUDEN

Under 18: uzumaki naruto, haruno sakura, uchiha sasuke, nara shikamaru, ino yamanaka, choji akimichi, kiba inuzuka, shino aburame, hinata hyuga, neji hyuga, rock lee, tenten, gaara, kankuro, temari.

Over 18: kakashi hatake, (more).

Akatsuki: deidara, hidan, itachi uchiha, kazuku, konan, nagato, sasori, tobi/obito uchiha.

Other: shuigetsu hozuki, karin, jugo.

VOLTAIRE HIGH/MIXTE(1963)

joseph descamps, jean-pierre magnan, alain laubrac, henri pichon, +more (just request)

©girlystories ©girlystoriess

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Having to be in pairs for a group project, two people with mixed feelings work together to create a presentation. Going into eachothers houses is easy until a certain cat wants to play cupid. Feelings erupt, and miscommunication has to be endured. A soccer game in the rain might prove that Descamps listens more than he should.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: bullying (poor pichon), boys being boys, very confusing feelings, angst bcs of achilles and patroclus (maybe even joseph and reader???), miscommunication in the enemies to lovers department, swearing

This chapter has references to The Song of Achilles book (ik its not the right timeline, but we have to do this for the angst so bare w me)

===

===

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

===

The scores of our exams are being published. I sit in my seat, eyes scanning the numbers and fingertips smoothing out the paper. Most of them are in the ranges of 12-16, which is good enough for me.

"As you know, this is a school where we like to experiment with new methods. Next week, we are going to try a new approach." I look up from my papers, interested in the proposal of something new.

"You're going to prepare a presentation, working in pairs. You'll be working with the classmate sitting next to you, and then you'll present your work in class together. And for a sense of free will, you can present about any subject. How does that sound?"

I look to the girl next to me. Her name was Louise. She's quiet most of the time and keeps to herself. I smile softly. She smiles back.

The teacher clears his throat, eyes on Descamps and Dupin. "You two, of which I already expect a chaotic presentation, will be paired with someone else." His eyes land on me and Louise. Please, no.

"Descamps and Pardine, Louise and Dupin. Please remember your partner." I internally groan, placing my head into my hands. I look to my side, already seeing Louise and Dupin waving to each other, Louise giggling. I groan again. I don't look at Descamps. He doesn't, either.

Pichon raises his hand. "What if we're sitting alone?" The class laughs. I look at Pichon in pity.

"Well, you can work with Ms. Sabiani." The teacher says in response.

"Look. Pichon is blushing. He's turned pink like a pig." Dupin says, and the class laughs again. Even Louise giggles. She likes him, it's obvious, but what is there to like? I roll my eyes.

"That's enough, Dupin." The teacher shouts at him, the smile on his face gone. Annick raises her hand.

"Do we really have to work in pairs?" She asks.

"That's the whole point." He answers. "And I'm warning you, half a pair's work will result in half the grade."

××《☆》××

As I walk down the stairs, I look up when I hear pigs oinking. I wasn't wrong. Descamps' group of friends are pigs.

When I spot Simone and Michèle in the bench under the tree, our usual spot, I make my way to them.

"Help me gain some decency to go up to Descamps and not punch him in the face." I groan as I sit on the bench with them.

"It's unfortunate for you. Our teacher could've picked anyone else." Michèle says, pity in her voice.

"Should I go talk to him now or later?" They don't answer because they see Descamps make his way towards us.

I fight the urge to start an argument with him. About anything, really. Just to get him to stay a bit longer. I clear my throat at the thought.

"Your place?" He says, now standing infront of us, hands in his pockets. I nod once, and he walks away.

"Thank god that was over quick." Something deep inside me knew I didn't mean that.

Jean Pierre walks towards us with a book in hand. I look at Simone with a teasing smile, but there's something in her eyes I can't really tell. Like she knows something.

"Here, this is yours." He hands Michèle the book. "I put it in my bag by mistake." Michèle thanks him. He walks away with a 'see you later'.

Michèle continues to complain to us about her grades. Simone sighs, mind floating away. I look at her confused. I'll ask her about it later.

I look towards Applebaum. We make eye contact, and I smile. He looks away, fear in his eyes. What's up with everyone today?

××《☆》××

In one of those rare moments, my parents are home for dinner. We sit in the dining table, enjoying our food.

"Someone's coming over tomorrow. I know you won't be here, but I thought it'd be better if you knew." I tell them, handing small bits of food to George.

"Oh? What will you be doing?" My father asks, cutting his food into smaller pieces.

"Group project. We'll probably just stay in my room." I pet George as he eats his food.

"Are we going to meet her even after the project?" My mother says, looking up from her food.

"He, actually. And no." This makes them pause, silence surronding the room. My father clears his throat.

"A boy? And both of you will be in your room?" He says, placing his elbows on the table.

I take time to process this. "Papa, no. It's not like that." I turn red in my seat. "Trust me, it's just a project. Nothing else."

"Of course we trust you. It's just, you know. You're a teen, and teens go through... stuff." My mother says, stuttering a bit. I cover my face with my hands.

"Mama, please don't make it weird." I groan.

"No, it's perfectly normal for your age. If you want, we can forget about it-" I cut her off.

"Yes, please. Forget about it." I cut my food aggressively, face as warm as my plate.

We stay quiet as we finish the rest of our dinner.

××《☆》××

"The league of nations, L.O.N..." I fade the rest of the discussion out, watching the way the sun rests on the trees leaves, the birds tending to themselves. Last nights conversation clouds my mind, and I catch myself smiling for no reason.

I sigh every time, biting my lip in my own embarrassment. I glance at Descamps. He's focusing on the lesson for once. Nothing will happen at my place, right?

He feels my gaze on him and gently turns his head. His eye meets mine, and there's a small quirk on the corner of his lip.

"Quiet at the back." Ms. Giraud calls out suddenly.

Descamps looks away. I purse my lips, something stirring in my chest. My breathing is faster, and I feel warmer. Have I gotten sick already?

Annick walks into the room, hair tousled and frizzy. Ms. Giraud shouts at her, and my ear drums are about to explode.

Ms. Giraud gives Annick detention, and with every word Annick said back, an hour or two more.

Ms. Giraud continues to piss me off every second of the day with her strictness and very clear jealousy towards Annick. She finally continues the discussion, and I (annoyingly) decide to finally listen.

××《☆》××

I wait right outside the gate for Descamps. He comes running to the gate but slows down when he sees me, acting like he wasn't just leaping to get here.

"Hey." He says, acting nonchalant. He even has his hand in his pocket.

"Hi. Let's get going." I keep my face blank as I lead the way to my place. We walk in silence, listening to our footsteps next to each other.

Once we make it to my flat's building, I go up the steps, stopping in front of my door and unlocking it.

We step inside, the flat looking warm with the sunlight entering through the windows. I lock my door and drop the keys on my kitchen counter.

"Your coat?" I reach my hands out. He throws his coat to me, the heaviness of it making me stumble. I scowl but hang it anyway.

"Head to my room. Down the hallway to the right." I say as I grab a few supplies from my father's office.

"Want me in your bed already?" He calls out once he's inside. I hear a yelp.

I run to my room. "Descamps, are you okay?" I ask worriedly. He stares at George.

"What is that?" He points to George, who's currently walking toward me. I bend down and pet him, planting a kiss on his head.

"This is George." I carry George and craddle him like a baby. I walk towards Descamps with the furball in my arms. I rock him slowly.

"You can touch him if you want. He doesn't bite." I smile at the orange cat, then look up at Descamps. He's staring at me with the most soft look I've seen him wear. My heart thumps in my chest.

He clears his throat, hand going up shakily to pet George. George purrs when Descamps pets him. There's now a smile on Descamps face, as warm as his stare.

I bite my lip at the proximity. I memorise as much as I can about him.

The way he was breathing, like he was on a bed so soft he could sink into it. The way he smelt like faded cigarette smoke and expensive cologne. The way his bones moved under his skin as he bent over to take a closer look at George. The number of times he's blinked, the number of times he's laughed under his breath.

I dive deeper into my trance as he looks up at me. The way he stared now is so different from the way he did all those times before. Like we knew something that we haven't acknowledged yet. Or chose not to.

Something falls in the kitchen, and we snap back to reality. My face warms up, the lighting from the windows making it clearer.

Descamps walks away from me, clearing his throat again. "The cat's ugly." This makes me snap my head to his direction.

"What did you just say?" My brows furrow, defensive of the cat sleeping in my arms.

He rolls his eye. "Nothing. Let's get the project started, I guess." I glare at him for a couple more seconds, then I gently place George down on the bed, excusing myself to get more stuff from my father's office.

When I'm halfway to my room, I hear whispering. I peek at the slit on my door, wondering what was happening behind it.

Descamps is petting George, whispering words as if he's hushing a baby to sleep.

My aura softens, and my heart bursts with admiration. I accidentally drop something and curse to myself. Descamps hears the thud on the floor and pushes himself away from George. George continues to sleep.

I open the door then close it gently. "Let's get started."

××《☆》××

"Do you have suggestions?" I ask Descamps. He doesn't answer, his head turned to the side. I sigh.

Before I could say anything, he talks. "What's that?" He nods to the book on my shelf. It was a copy of the story of Achilles and Patroclus, with a notebook strapped on the front.

"It's nothing important." I shake my head. He purses his lips in thought.

"Can I see it?" His question catches me off guard, his head finally turning to look at me. No one's ever showed interest in my books or notes. I stay quiet, then after a while, I nod.

He gets up from the bed and grabs the book. He takes the string that attaches the notebook to the copy off. He scans the back of the book and hums.

"We can base the project off of this, if you don't mind." He holds up the paperback and the notebook. I'm stunned in my place.

"It's really not that interesting-"

"It must be if you had a whole notebook dedicated to it." There isn't even a teasing tone when he said that. He meant it genuinely.

"Fine." I sigh, grabbing the notebook from his grasp.

"Good." "Great." "Amazing." "Piss off." "Whatever."

"Mind if you read it to me?" He says. "I have a feeling I'll understand better when you say it, since it's your work."

I nod, hesitantly. I opened the first page of my notebook. Most of the stuff I've written in it is a summary and a review of the book.

He leans back on my pillows. I let him. I started to read.

"Patroclus was a young prince, exiled from his kingdom for accidentally killing a boy, and was taken in by their neighbouring king, King Peleus."

George purrs as I pet him. I shift to a more comfortable sitting position. Descamps' eyes are on me.

"When Patroclus first saw Achilles, it was in a competition run by Patroclus' father. He described Achilles as if he was looking at a painting made with precision and grace." I flip the page. George walks over to Descamps' lap. I huff, ignoring it.

"When they met and officially talked, Patroclus thought he'd hated Achilles. Achilles and his beauty, his speed, his perfection. In the years that pass, they grow to be attached to the other." George meows. The meow that indicates he wants petting.

I pause my reading, and Descamps looks at me confused. "Why'd you stop?"

"George wants pets." Descamps makes an 'oh' sound and pets George. He meows again.

"Maybe he wants you." Descamps says, petting the fur baby on his lap. I sigh and lean in close to pet George. With the uncomfortable position, I shift to sit beside Descamps on the bed. I clear my throat and pet George. I continue to read.

"They knew everything about each other. What they'd prefer, like how I like the rain too much to cover it with an umbrella, but know I'll get sick without it. That's how the two worked. They knew every detail, every routine, every habit, every movement. A love you'd have to fight the gods for."

A page is flipped, smoothing out of paper echoes in the room.

"Achilles and Patroclus loved each other with every inch of their heart and soul. Quoting the book, Patroclus states, 'He is half my soul, as the poets say'. Along with the famous paragraph." My eyes switch to the next page.

Descamps shifts in his place, leaning back on the pillows, looking at the pages where I'm reading off of. I start to relax, leaning back, too. George purrs.

"I could recognise him by touch alone, by smell; I would know him blind, by the way his breaths came and his feet struck the earth. I would know him in death, at the end of the world."

I take a glance at Descamps, and he's already looking at me. George snores in his sleep, making the aura of the room warmer. More comfortable.

His eye dropped to my lips, and I could've sworn I was hearing a heartbeat as fast as the wind at fall. I glance at his, pink and soft, like a cushion ready for rest.

When we lean in, slowly, too slow, my heart drops as he pulls away and stretches. I furrow my eyebrows, a dread of realisation. He's been toying with me. I close my notebook and gather my things.

"Where are you off to?" He asks. I don't answer him.

"Hey," He grabs my arm. I take it back from him. "What's wrong with you?"

"Nothing." I say coldly. "I'll finish this project myself."

"What? No. This is a group project remember?"

"I can't keep doing this. You're too hard to work with." I stack the books and materials in my arms.

"We haven't even gotten anything done yet." He flops his hands in the air.

"Exactly. You're too distracting."

"What did I do? I've been quiet the whole time."

"Yeah, well, that's the problem. You're too quiet. You aren't suggesting things."

"What does that have to do with anything?" He raises his voice.

"Just shut up, okay? Just leave. I told you I'll finish the project by myself." I get up from the bed, heading to my father's office.

"But I don't get why you're suddenly mad!" He stands up, following me.

"You don't have to know. Just leave me alone, okay?"

"Fucking fine. You're being too stubborn anyways. Do all the work. Getting pissed off for no fucking reason." He grabs his coat from the rack, putting it on. He doesn't even glance at me, opening and shutting the door with a loud slam.

I even out my breathing. It was going fine. Then I think to myself, what was? Me and Descamps, going fine? I laugh at the thought. I hated that boy. I hated him with my whole heart. My mind travels to the notes I was just reading.

Patroclus had thought he hated Achilles in the start, too. I shake the thought out of my head, slipping against the wall to sit on the floor, knees to my chest.

I hear tapping on the floor boards. I look to my side to see George, meowing softly. I take a deep breath in, then reach my hand out to pet him.

I hate him. And I know I do. He lingers in my mind like a fog in the mountains. The way his aura had softened, his smile, his warmth. I hated the thought of him, but then he smiled, and like Achilles, his face was like the sun.

××《☆》××

Night comes, and I lay in my bed, windows slightly open for the wind to come through. I'm restless, not getting a blink of sleep. I'm halfway through the project already. If Descamps had helped, it'd take longer, I think to myself, trying to still feel angry.

I don't feel angry at all anymore. There's a sort of regret in me for pushing him away. But at the same time, it's what he deserved. We had leaned in, and I didn't even know what I was expecting. I should've expected him to pull away, but what was he going to do in the first place?

Was he going to whisper in my ear? If so, what would he whisper to me? Was he going to say something about how I write, how I speak? A thought so blurry pops up in my head, and I brush it off. But it felt warm, so safe, so soft. There was a scent stuck in my head as I reminisced on the thought, trying to figure out what I was thinking.

I fall asleep in the process, dreaming about the thought instead. Limbs touching, bending, adjusting. I taste cigarettes and strawberries. I smell smoke and expensive perfume. I feel something soft against my lips, hands cupping my face, my neck, my head, and my waist.

He felt warm, tall, and heavy against me. I hold onto the dream, relaxing.

××《☆》××

I wake up, sweat coating my skin. George sits on the window sill, the sun making him shine like gold. I sit up and stretch. I get off my bed and head to my bathroom.

My hair is messy, and I have a bit of dried drool on the corner of my mouth. I wash my face to give myself some energy. I take my clothes off lazily, tying my hair up and getting inside my shower.

Once I finish, I comb and fix my hair, head to the kitchen for a quick breakfast, grab my things for school, including the unfinished project, and head to the front door.

A stack of paper tied with string greets me. I furrow my eyebrows. There's no note. I squat down and pick it up. I instantly know who it's from.

It's an essay about Achilles and Patroclus, detailed and opinionated. Written on the last piece of paper, sitting at the bottom of the stack, it reads, "I bought a copy. Finished it for you."

I stood still, processing the words, flipping through the papers to double check if they're authentic. I let out a scoff of surprise. My head snaps to a nearby clock. I'm going to be late if I don't start walking now.

My feet carry me to the front gates of Voltaire, the familiar faces and light chatter calming me. I spot Simone and Michèle, and I make my way to them.

××《☆》××

Rain starts to fall. The rain always brought me comfort. The different sounds it made when hitting different objects, the way it sways with the wind, the smell it gives the grass after.

I lag behind Simone and Michèle as they make their way to the field. I look for my satchel, then remember I'd forgotten my umbrella. I curse to myself, finding the satchel. It felt heavier than usual. I look inside, then see a clear umbrella. I open it and twist it around, gaping in awe. There's a note in the bag. I open to read it.

"Don't get sick from what you love." The note said.

There's only one person I've told about my love for rain.

I head outside, hiding my red face once I see a drenched one-eyed boy. I smile to Simone and Michèle, spotting them seated on a bench. I glance behind me as I sit down, finding an eye already looking at me with a small smile. His smile drops, and he looks away when I catch him. I purse my lips.

We watch the match, getting my mind off of the boy with ash brown hair. Once the match finishes, we all make our way home. I look up, seeing the rain pattering against the clear umbrella. I smile, watching the water droplets slip off the plastic, hearing the pattering of rain.

××《☆》××

The next day, I repeat my routine. I thoroughly read through Descamps' essay, rewritting it to fit in with mine. I should be thankful, and I am, but Descamps is making my head hurt with the way he acts. I walked to school, going subject after subject, until our presentation finally came.

Earlier, I'd slipped him the script, tucking it in his bag. I hope silently that he's memorised it.

Annick and Pichon are presenting in front of the class. I smiled softly, impressed by the presentation, and refreshed with the dynamic of the two. If only things had gone differently with Descamps, we could've been good friends. But we aren't. I don't think we ever will.

Once they finish, our teacher calls me and Descamps to the front. My anxiousness radiates off my body. Simone and Michèle give me a reassuring look. I nod at them slightly.

My eyes meet Descamps, and we're standing at the front of the class. They're quiet, and my eyes scan all of them. Surprisingly, Descamps starts.

"Me and Pardine are going to present the story of Achilles and Patroclus and the debate of their relationship; romantic or platonic?" Descamps looks at me, his hand hovering at the small of my back for support.

I start, and faster than I thought, I finish the presentation. The room claps, as they do with the others. I glance at Descamps but see him already walking back to his seat. My smile dropped slowly, remembering I was still on his bad side, and vice versa.

I walk back to my seat quietly. I don't even hear the score because my mind is too occupied with the thought of him. Would we stay angry at eachother always? At the same time, it shouldn't matter. I hate him. Right?

I shake my head. I hate him, surely. I should. I dig deep in my head for a reason. Bullying Pichon and Michèle, toying with my feelings (feelings I'm not aware whether it's good or bad), the way he acts, and smells, and feels when he's near.

I fucking hate him. I really do. I hate him, I repeat in my head. I hate him, I hate him, I hate him.

Then, like earlier, something inside me knows I don't mean it.

At the end of the day, I make peace with solitude. My mind wanders, and I notice that every time it does, they always end up with the face of a one-eyed boy.

Sure, Descamps gave me a finished essay for our project, and sure, he gave me an umbrella that was clear so I could see the rain. So what? I still hate him. Maybe just a little less now.

××《☆》××

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

Next- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

××《☆》××

End of chapter three. Rollercoaster of emotions this one. It's a bit shorter than usual because i took out a bunch of the scenes in the series to focus on the emotions of reader and hopefully u guys get what im trying to give. Thanks for reading, requests r open, and see u next chapter!!!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: boys being boys (worse than b4), swearing, one-sided anger, reference to a movie (Hot Rod), love triangle again (new character??), fluff (finally?!?!?!)

===

===

Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

===

I flip through page by page the new magazine I bought. It was imported from america, and the second I heard of it, I ran to the nearest booth.

That was yesterday. Today is Monday morning. I woke up a little earlier to scroll through my said magazine and look for inspiration. I thought I'd do something different. A bit more bold.

Hair bumps and bangs. A style well worn by Priscilla Beaulieu, the speculated lover of Elvis Presley. The magazine was filled with her.

I grab my scissors, lifting my head to look into my bathroom mirror. I read the directions on the magazine, parting a small section at the middle of my hair, pulling it in front of my eyes.

I take a deep breath in. A click from the scissors is heard. Not half bad, I say to myself. I shag it a little, smiling to myself.

I continue to read the instructions to Priscilla's hair bump, deciding to make it just a small bump, curling the ends, then adding hair spray to keep it all intact. Once I was done , I added a pair of pearl earrings.

There's a new dress waiting for me in my closet. It was a present from my parents. A knee-length flowy dress with a boat neckline and a thin strap belt, all in the colour of watermelon red.

I put it on, patting down the skirt, and grab my kitten heels. I pray that I don't get caught. This is probably how Michèle felt on the first day of school.

I take one last look in the mirror. I looked older, like a proper lady. I straighten my back and smile strainedly. I breathe out slowly.

I grab my satchel and coat, then head out of my flat. Walking to school, eyes follow me. From my lovely neighbour to the men smoking cigarettes in the street. I don't mind them and continue to make my way to school.

Once I get there, I see Laubrac walking away from Michèle. I walk up to her and put on a smile.

"Michèle. How have you been?" I lean in to hug her.

"Wow, Y/N. You're stunning. You look like you were made to be in movies." Michèle laughs, and I laugh with her.

"Don't go that far." We smile at each other and make it through the gate. Once again, eyes are on me, younger this time.

We look towards the bathroom, seeing Felbec run towards it, then get rejected access through. A tall frame pushes him away, and I knew exactly who it was. I furrow my eyebrows.

A boy then comes running through the gate, shouting out how he has the money. I notice Annick as she suddenly walks away. When he makes it there, the school bell rings. I laugh, watching him move around disappointed.

××《☆》××

"Literary salons are almost always hosted by women. Madame de Sèvignè, Madame de Lafayette." Our teacher says as he leans on his table with his arms.

The lecture fades, and all I hear is the tapping of my heels on the hardwood floor.

"Dupin." Our teacher calls out. I turn around to take a look, but my eyes lock with one. I squint at Descamps, then shift my eyes to Dupin.

"As you won't stop talking, you seem well-versed on the subject. Can you share your thoughts on the salons with us?" Dupin stands, and I smile softly, seeing his embarassed state.

I turn my head back to the front, but a stare stays on me, making the hairs on the back of my neck rise.

I ignored it at first, and then it started to get annoying. So I turned, and I saw him, and he was smiling. He's smiling. Every time I look at him, either he looks dead inside (though, in my opinion, no dead person could look that pretty.), or he's smiling. And that's what he's doing. He's smiling.

How I wish I could wipe it off.

××《☆》××

My ears pound as I hear Ms. Giraud's voice. I might go deaf, but I keep my composure. The bell rings, and we're finally dismissed.

I hear rushed shuffling. Ms. Giraud calls out to the boy.

"Are you in a rush, Lamazière?" Ms. Giraud yells. I notice it's the same boy that ran to the bathroom with money in his hand.

He gets punished, and I laugh quietly. I grab my things, rushing up to the girls.

"Hey, I need to go to the bathroom. Continue walking without me." They nod, and we part ways.

After using the toilet, I look at myself in the mirror. I never expected that. How conscious I'd be of my looks, my movements, and my habits.

Maybe it comes with the fact I dressed up. But for what, I start to wonder. I don't know why I dressed up in the first place. I know I said for a change, but is that really all?

A flash of an eye comes to mind. I quickly shake it off. No way. Not him.

I clear my throat, then grab my things. I hastily walk out the bathroom, suddenly needing fresh air. As I make it to the hallway of the stairwell, footsteps slow down, and eyes follow me. I stop in my tracks.

I scanned through them, what face they were wearing while looking at me. I look down on myself. I still looked presentable, so what were they looking at?

I start to walk, my eyes following the faces of the boys. Each step I take down feels slower. One flight finished, and I stop glancing at them. My feet tap on the porcelain floor of the stairs as I keep my head down.

One flight left, a tall frame walks into the school. He turns to the stairs, and I stop. Descamps stares at me. I stare at him. He then looks up and sees plenty of eyes on me. I see his jaw clench.

He claps his hands. I flinch at the echo of it.

"Will you boys keep staring, or will I go shopping for a new eye with all of yours?" This gets them moving. The stairwell is noisy again.

I turn my head back to Descamps, and I glare. Hard. I walk towards him, and then I'm reminded of our height difference. I crane my neck upward.

"I could've handled myself, you know?" I squint my eyes, and all he does is stare. Why is he just staring? Can't we fight already? I feel my cheeks flush in embarrassment.

"Are you just gonna stare or are you gonna sa-"

"You're beautiful." I barely even heard it. But I did. Then I acted like I didn't.

"What?" I stutter out, flushed cheeks redder than before.

"You're miserable. You clearly needed my help." I scoff, the comforting warmth I felt quickly replaced with boiling anger.

"Just leave me alone, Descamps." I walk away, and into the courtyard.

Who does he think he is? Some knight in shining armour? He's more like a thief in the streets. But then no thief could be as annoying, as dreadful, as smiley as him. That stupid smile, and those stupid words, and his stupid face. Stupid, stupid face. Sometimes I just wanna grab it and-

I stop in my tracks. There's a line in front of the boys' bathroom. What would they be lining up for? I see a mop of blonde hair and framed eyes. Applebaum. He hasn't talked to me, hasn't said hi, and I always wonder if I'd done anything wrong.

But he's the past. I guess he just doesn't like me. It's too bad. I had high hopes for him. A whip of air pushes by me, and it's Descamps again. He's jogging towards the bathroom. He's collecting coins from them. Really, what's going on?

I look in front of me. Michèle and Simone are seated on the stairs. I sigh in relief. I sit beside them.

"I can't do this anymore. All the boys, they're dreadful. Why did I come here in the first place?" I groan. The girls watch me, amused.

"Because you moved here from Paris and-" I cut Simone off.

"Rhetorical." I mutter. She purses her lips shut.

Michèle clears her throat. "So, you think you'll get married?" I lift my head up.

"To who?" My eyes are wide open as well as my ears.

"Eugène. Simone's lover boy." I cover my mouth in shock.

"What? I thought you had a thing for-" Simone cuts me off this time.

"No. It's a little too soon for that." She answers Michèle's question. I mouth sorry. She nods.

"Aren't you worried he'll want to take things further?" Michèle asks Simone. I started to click the pieces together. I bite on my lip to hide my smile.

"I don't know." Simone smiles at the thought. "Can I have a bite? Thanks." She says as she grabs Michèle's apple and takes a bite from it.

"I hope I find a husband soon. So I can get out of my parents house." I nod at Michèle's statement.

"That's true. But hopefully, no one from here. I'd rather die." They laugh at my overreaction, but honestly, I might just die than marry anyone here.

Well, except for one, maybe. Who, I ask myself. Right. Who am I even talking about? My eyes drift to a one-eyed boy. No. Don't even think about it.

Descamps as a husband? I laugh to myself.

Sure, I can imagine him going to work, coming home, smoking a cigarette or two as he reads the news.

Lounging in the living room one lazy afternoon, shirt slightly unbuttoned and pants a bit loose. Eating breakfast with his family, cooking with his wife (who, for some reason, looks almost like me. Very weird.), kissing her shoulders as his arms wrap around her waist.

His scent, his soft lips, his large frame. Carrying his kids in his arms as he spins them around the backyard. Teaching his son how to catch, playing dolls with his daughter, taking a break on a bench, one arm on his thigh, and the other on me.

Me? I shake my head. No, not me. His wife. Certainly not me. I grimace at the thought. Why would I even?

I sigh deeply, frustratedly. These damn thoughts are infuriating, just like him.

"Happy New Year, Ms. Palladino." My trance gets cut off.

"You too, Sir." Simone responds. I clear my throat, composing myself.

Michèle calls out for her uncle and gets up. I wonder what she's going to do. I don't pay much mind as I scoot over to Simone.

"It's Jean Pierre, isn't it?" She flinches.

"What do you mean?" I roll my eyes at her response.

"You know what I mean. Eugène? It's definitely Jean Pierre." Her cheeks flush, and she drops her head.

"I'm happy for you, really." I smile as she lifts her head, hope in her eyes. My smile wavers a bit. "But how will you tell Michèle?"

Her eyes lose that hope, and she looks away.

"I don't know. He said we shouldn't because she'll never let us see each other again."

"But one day, you'll have to." I grab her hand and rub it gently. She sighs.

"I wish you luck." I whisper, then hug her. She hugs me back. Once we pull away, Michèle sits with us again.

"He didn't want to lend it to me. What does 'adult' mean." I raise my eyebrows and puff out my cheeks, clearly not wanting to answer her question.

Michèle looks around. "What's up with everyone today?"

"You only noticed now?" I chuckle.

"Come with me." Me and Simone get up, following Michèle. She walks and calls towards Pichon.

"What's going on in the bathroom?" Pichon pauses. Too long of a pause.

"Nothing." I squint at him. Obviously not nothing.

"Somethings been going on in there today."

"Not at all. Nothing's going on." Pichon tries to walk away, but I stop him with a palm to his chest.

"Really? Why did you react that way when you ran into Mr. Bellanger?" I start to talk.

"What do you mean?" This is getting annoying.

"Don't act dumb. We know you aren't." I snap at him. "Now, why was your face all red?"

"No. It's not red." I furrow my eyebrows, now really getting angry. I almost shove him before Michèle holds me back.

"Simone, is his face red?" I ask her.

"It's red. Very red." I look back at Pichon and raise my eyebrows, waiting for an answer.

"It's not. It's just my complexion." I try to lunge at him, but Michèle's hands are tight on me.

"So you're not gonna tell us?" Michèle calls out for him. I whip my arms off of Michèle's hold, and she's quick to let me go.

"Of course he won't." I glare at the back of his head.

The bell rings.

××《☆》××

Descamps' group walks into the class together. They're rushing a bit.

"And Applebaum?" One of them asks.

"He's gonna sprain something." Descamps answers. Sprain what? What are they doing in that bathroom anyway?

"He's gonna go deaf." Oh. A shiver runs down my spine as I gag. Gross.

I hear Michèle ask Simone something, probably about what the boys are talking about. I don't wanna tell her.

Ms. Couret walks in and greets us. We're granted to sit. The door opens.

"Didn't you hear the bell, Mr. Applebaum." I gag again seeing him. I should've known he was like everyone else. To believe I might've given him a chance. I grimace.

The boys whisper and laugh. There's a boiling in my stomach. Ms. Couret moves on to the topic.

"Do you know the Beatles?" This catches my attention. No one answers, until Pichon does.

"The British band?" Ms. Couret nods.

"Yes. Let's see if those names ring a bell." I shuffle on my seat, giving my full attention to the discussion.

I don't notice the boys passing around a magazine 'till it comes flying towards Michèle's table. I peek over, and in front of her lies a flashy magazine.

××《☆》××

"He said if we didn't give him a name, the class would get detention every Thursday." Pichon says as everyone huddles in to listen. I feel a warm frame over and behind me, but I ignore it, thinking it's just another classmate.

"Then we all get detention." Dupin states, as if it wasn't already obvious.

"The whole class." Pichon exclaims.

"Even the girls?" My brows furrow. What did we do to be blamed?

"Everybody." We all stop.

"That's not fair." Simone says, and I nod with her.

"Right. What did we do? It was you guys who were being perverts." I call out.

I get more frustrated when a chest bumps into me. It's the same frame I felt earlier. I turn around, and I'm met with Descamps.

"You. You were the ones selling the magazine and passing it around." I glare at him.

"You're disgusting. I don't want you near me." I turn again and bid a quick goodbye to the girls then head home.

"Pardine!" I hear Descamps call out. I roll my eyes and keep walking. Once we're in a quieter area, he grabs my arm and gently pushes me to a wall.

"Please. I swear I would never." I glare up at him.

"Then why were you passing it around?" I ask him, tilting my head up.

His pants fill my ears. It's worrying. I place a hand on his chest.

"Calm down." I state, the worry etched in my voice.

He relaxed under my touch, I felt it, the way his muscles stopped being tense. I kept my face hard.

"Now, explain." My voice comes out demanding.

"I needed some money. What better way to collect it quickly than when there's hundreds of prepubescent boys in one school?" I roll my eyes. I almost walk away before he cages me in the wall with his arms.

"Please. Just... listen. I needed money, okay? I wanted to save up for... for..." He stutters, and my brows crease more.

"For?" I raise my brows, expecting an answer.

"For... records. Yeah. For my mother." I squint at his answer.

"That still won't excuse the fact you're a pervert."

"No, I swear. I would never. I know you don't believe me, but I swear. I swear on my mothers life I would never. Not in school, not anywhere. I respect a woman way too much to do something like that."

"A woman? Who? Your mother?" My brain turns to different answers.

"Yes." He stuttering again. "Definitely, my mother." He pushes away from me, and I feel cold.

I hum. Then I look back up at him, eyes still squinted.

"I'll let it pass for now." I see his face fill with relief, and I almost laugh.

I walk away, but before I get too far, I hear him mutter.

"You look pretty." I turn around, shocked and confused.

"What did you say?"

"I said you look shitty. Goodbye, Pardine!" He calls out as he walks away in a rush. I scoff, then turn back around to walk home.

××《☆》××

I pet George, lounging on my bed, thinking of going out to run some errands. I get up and head to the kitchen.

Stuck to the fridge, I read my mother's shopping list. I get rid of the magnet and stick the note into my coat pocket. I glance at George, then the door, then George again.

I sigh. I pick him up, head to my door, and lock it. We go down the stairs. I place him in my bicycle basket. I make sure he's tucked in well, then ride to the farmers market.

Once I'm there, I glance at the shopping list again. Some vegetables, fruit, flour, etc. I walk past each stall, buying what's needed. Just then, a boy, somewhere my age, walks towards me.

"Hi." He seems confident. "I'm Callum. What's your name?"

I look at him up and down, and then the hand he reaches out for a hand shake. He's tall, but not too tall. Maybe five feet and ten inches. He has long, wavy brown hair, neatly brushed behind his ears. He has deep doe eyes and a smile on his face. I hesitate.

"Y/N." I slowly lift my hand and shake his. His smile widens.

"So, I have a project that requires a model, and when I saw you, I thought you'd be the perfect candidate. Not to be blunt about it, but you're beautiful." I blush at the sudden compliment.

"All you need to do is let me take a couple of photos, and I'll pay you, about... 300 franc?" I gape at the offer.

"Are you sure? Just for pictures?" They nod.

"Yes. Good transaction, yeah? If I win the project, the pictures will be displayed in the front of a car magazine. Is that alright with you?" I think again, but what's there to think about when there's 300 franc on the table?

"Deal." I shake hands Callum's hand, and he smiles wider.

"Good. Now, I'll take you to my car, and you can do a couple of poses in front of it." He led me to his car, and the second I saw the bright mint blue of it, my jaw hits the floor.

"This pretty one," Callum pats the front of the car. "is a 1955 Ford Thunderbird. Mint blue exterior, white top, and a mix of both for the interior. It has the brake horsepower of 193, and she's my most prized possession. She goes up to 23,069 kilometres. Very lovely, right?" He leans on the car, almost hugging it.

I cover my mouth, hiding my smile. He walks over to me, gently grabbing my wrist and pulling it away from my face.

"Keep that smile on, pretty lady. We need it for the pictures." He tilts his head towards the car. "Go on."

I walk slowly. Once I'm near the passengers door, I pose, and I see the flash of the camera.

"Get inside. Take a feel around." I walk to the other side of the car, opening the door and closing it once I'm in. I feel the leather of the wheel against my palm, and I scoff in awe. The camera flashes again.

"I didn't get to pose!" I laugh, slightly embarassed.

"You didn't need to. You're a natural." He snaps another photo, and I laugh again.

After taking a few photos and reviewing them, Callum finally chose one. It was me smiling at the camera with my hands on the wheels, windows rolled down.

He told me I looked perfect, which was, based on what he said, the first thing that came into his mind when he saw me.

The rest of the day, he accompanied me shopping and even offered me a ride around town in his car. I obviously couldn't say no.

He pulled the hood down, letting the wind flow through my hair as we drove in the roads, making it to the fields, stopping by for some gas, and then getting on the road again.

××《☆》××

Callum parks the car in front of his flat, which was only a few blocks away from mine. We decided to walk to my place instead of draining out the car, not before him telling me that it was absolutely fine for him to drive me directly home. When I said I needed my legs moving, he stopped pushing it and agreed.

He puts the hood back on, locking the door with his keys. He walks to my side.

"Good luck with the project." My hands are in my coat pockets as Callum walks me home. He smiles, then looks at me.

"Meeting you was luck itself. That means if you're in my pictures, I'll bring luck with me." I roll my eyes.

"Cheesy." We come to a stop infront of my flat's door.

"Well, this is it." I purse my lips, looking up at him.

"Yup. I guess we're here." His eyes sort of lose its spark. I worry.

"You okay?" I raise my eyebrows, concerned.

"I wanna see you again." He blurts out. "Is tomorrow okay? The results will come out, and I sort of want you to be there."

"Sure. I'll be there." I rub his arm reassuringly. He slowly lifts his hand to cup mine on his arm. He lifts it to his lips, pressing a soft kiss on it.

"Goodnight, Y/N." He smiles softly, lets go of my hand, and leaves. I stay in my place, unsure of what to do. When his frame disappears from my sight, I shiver. What was that?

I'm greeted by George as I get in my flat. My heart's beating out my chest, and I feel anxious. There's something in me. It doesn't feel so good. Some sort of regret. Why?

A boy. Not Callum. Someone else. Taller frame. Shorter hair. One eye. Fuck no. No way. I can't. I shouldn't. Why am I thinking about him?

I shake my head, trying to clear my thoughts. 'I don't even call him by his first name.' Joseph Descamps. I feel indifferent calling him his first name. I'm not in terms with him like that. We aren't close enough for me to call him that.

Then suddenly, I want to. I want to call him Joseph. 'Why?' I wonder. Joseph, Joseph, Joseph. It feels nice on the tongue. Descamps is suddenly too long of a name. Joseph is fine. The name, I mean. Not him.

Then suddenly, again, it is. He is. 'No, he's not', but I want him to be. How do I get him to be? 'I can't do this. I really shouldn't.' But, oh, how much I want to.

'No.' I quiet my thoughts. 'No. Never. I won't do it.'

But I want to.

Fuck.

××《☆》××

The next morning, most of the boys are called to the principles office. I sigh in boredom, looking out the window.

"It certainly feels emptier today." Simone says, breaking the silence. I want to laugh, but I can't. I wanted to see the way Joseph's green cardigan looked on his wide frame longer.

I shake my head. I totally didn't get enough sleep last night with that thought popping in my head.

Though, that cardigan really suited him. Green really suits him. It makes him sort of glow. It's not like he doesn't already. Come to think of it, his hair glows, too. It was a bit messy. He probably rushed to school today. I wonder how soft it'll be against my fingers when I brush it off to look neater.

I remember how warm he was that day in the alley. He was so much taller, so he had to basically break his back to reach me. I double take that thought.

He had to break his back just to reach me.

I know he didn't actually break his back, but I just knew that sort of hurt. But it was nice, so I guess it was worth it for him. At least, I hope it was.

Okay, wait. Why am I thinking like this? I guess we're on good terms now. I mean, sure, we bicker, but not as much anymore? I don't know. Whatever. I guess we're fine. I want us to be. I'm tired of being mad at him for no reason.

Yeah. We're fine. That's why I'm thinking like this, right? You know, as a friendly, 'I want to take care of you' kind of way. Which is platonic. Totally. Yeah, that's fine.

Maybe I should say hi from time to time? Or no. Maybe just a nod for a greeting? Too bland. A smile will do. He might be creeped out, though.

I groan internally. Why am I overthinking this? Whatever, I'll just smile and wave. That's good. Simple and effective. Don't overthink it. There's nothing to overthink about.

Ms. Couret walks in, and the class collectively stands up. She's wearing a green dress. It looks nice. It reminds me of Joseph.

Woah. Why am I thinking about him? I think I'm just worried. Yeah. I'm worried about him because we're friends. Wait, are we friends? I'll ask later.

We're told to sit down, and we do. Ms. Couret pulls out a copy of the news. This must be about The Beatles, I remember from the last discussion, before it got interrupted. I light up in my seat.

"We won't wait for your classmates. They're getting tortured at the dean's dungeon." The class laughs.

"Today, we'll start with an article on President Kennedy's murder." So it isn't about The Beatles. I furrow my eyebrows.

I raise my hand.

"Yes?" Ms. Couret lifts her head.

"What about the song?" I shrug my shoulders, asking a bit sadly.

"No. There won't be a song. I don't have the record." I purse my lips in silent disappointment. She passes us some papers, and I sit the rest of the day quietly.

××《☆》××

I walk outside of the gate, the crowds of students slowly dissipating. My hair flows in the wind, styled the same way it was yesterday, except done in a half up half down style. My yellow dress lifts up and down as my legs do.

I'm headed to Callum's school, excited for the results. Almost halfway there, I stop. Joseph is in front of a magazine booth, buying. My heart drops, assuming it was another one of those flashy magazines. But then he leans out the booth, holding a magazine with my face on the cover.

My face is on the cover, and Joseph is buying it.

Two very important things.

One, I got on the cover, so Callum won. Two, Joseph is buying a magazine with my face on the cover. My question is, does he know it's me on the cover? Or is he buying it because he generally likes cars.

I take slow steps forward. The closer I am, the more I hear. And there's a voice inside my head repeating Joseph's words.

"That's my girl." He points to my picture in the magazine, showing the booth owner. "She's gorgeous. I mean, look at her." He makes the magazine face him again. There's a wide smile on his face.

He's smiling. I think I'm starting to like it on him.

The second he turns his head and sees me, the smile I just started to admire drops. He looks red under the afternoon sun.

"Pardine." He clears his throat, hiding the magazine. "What are you doing around here?"

"Headed to St. Patricks. You know the all boys school?" I smile softly. His nervousness seems to fade, for only a little.

"What would you be doing there?" He sounds off.

"Meeting a friend." I lift my shoulders, showing off a smile.

He looks like he melts, then stiffens back up. "A friend? Who? What's his name? What's he look like?"

"You ask a lot of questions. Answer mine first, then I'll answer yours." He nods. "What are you doing here?"

He stutters. "I was just looking around. Thought I'd buy a magazine but then saw you." He's acting uninterested. Or atleast trying to.

"Saw me walking towards you, or saw me in that magazine you have in your hands?" His eyes blow open. I hide my laugh.

"What? What do you- oh." He points to the magazine booth that he's still standing next to.

"That's you? Wow, I didn't know you modelled. It's not like I care or anything." He puts his head down, shrugging his shoulders.

"Why'd you buy it, Joseph?" I smirk, tilting my head, trying to meet his eyes. He shys away.

"I was... gonna burn it. Yeah. I was- wait. What did you call me?" He whips his head up. I try to recall, then flush when I do.

"Nothing."

"You totally called me Joseph." Yes, I did.

"No, I didn't." I shake my head.

"You never call me that." No, but like last night, I want to.

"I didn't call you Joseph."

"You just did."

"You're so childish, Joseph."

"You did it again!"

I groan, walking away from him, as red as when he saw me. Why was he red when he saw me? Whatever, I need to get to Callum.

I hear his steps behind me, and I roll my eyes.

"Y/N, come on." I turn around.

"You called me Y/N."

"No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did." He definitely did.

"I didn't." Mhm, sure.

"You did. You never call me that." I mock him. He rolls his eye.

"Whatever."

"Whatever." I walk away from him. He doesn't seem to follow after me anymore, but then after a while, I hear his steps again.

"What's your friends name again? Are you sure I wasn't the friend you were gonna meet?" Oh right, I was gonna ask him about that.

"Are we friends?" I stop and turn to him.

He stops, too. No talking, no walking.

"Do you want us to be?" He asks. I pause.

"Yes."

"Then, yeah." There's that smile I missed.

"Good." I continue to walk.

"You didn't answer my first question."

"His name is Callum. He was the one who photographed me." I feel him grab my arm, and we stop again.

"He photographed you? When did you even meet? How are you sure he isn't some old creep?"

"Yes, he did. Yesterday, when I was in the market. He's our age, I made sure to ask."

"Okay, how exactly did he come up to you in the market?" He squints, tilting his head.

"Just went up to me, said hi, called me beautiful, offered money for the photos, took the photos, we drove around in his car, and then he walked me home." I shrug simply. He's still hesitant.

"You drove around in a stranger's car?"

"Correction, friends car."

"Yeah, a friend you just met."

"Whatever, I'm here now safe and sound anyways."

"But what if he was some creep? You need to be more careful, Y/N."

"I said it's whatever, Joseph." His eyebrows are furrowed, then after a while, he nods.

I continue to walk, and he follows. I don't stop him.

Once we're in front of St. Patricks' gate, I see the familiar Ford Thunderbird and quickly make my way, Joseph hot on my feet.

I see the familiar man leaning against the car with his hands in his pockets, then I see his toothy grin. I run up to him and give him a hug that he returns.

"Callum! Congratulations. I knew you had it in the bag." I say as I lean away from him. He keeps his arms wrapped around me. I feel a burning stare on us.

"Told you, you brought me luck." He takes his glasses off with his hand, then places the arm he used back on my waist. I hear footsteps and Callum's hold loosens.

There's an arm around my shoulder. Then, an all familiar voice.

"You alright, man? Congrats on the magazine. Y/N's told me about you." I look up at Joseph. His jaw's clenched.

"Of course she did. She told you about the ride on this pretty thing?" He pats the car, and I flush.

"Yeah, she did. I'm Joseph." He puts a hand out for Callum to shake. They clasp hands, and their grips are tight.

"Callum, but I guess you already knew that. If you don't mind me asking, who are you to Y/N?"

"Her b-"

"Friend. He's a friend." I cut him off. He looks at me with hurt in his eyes, then masks it with fake joy.

"Yup. I'm her friend." He nods to Callum.

"Oh. It's a bit weird that she hasn't mentioned you. You know, since you're friends and all." Joseph's arm tightens around me.

"Yeah, it's not like her to talk about her friends to someone she just met." There's a sarcastic smirk on his face.

Callum hums. "Well, s'nice to meet you, Joseph. Have a good one, yeah? And you, pretty lady..." Callum's gaze shifts to me, stare softening.

"Have a good night." He lifts my hand to his lips, placing a soft and lingering kiss on it. I take a deep breath in, maintaining composure, overwhelmed by the attention both boys were giving me.

Callum turns around and drives off on his car. Once his car was out of sight, I look back at Joseph, his stare still on the road where Callum rode off to.

"What was that?" I squint, tilting my head up. He instantly looks down at me with tending eyes.

"Nothing. I'll walk you home." His hand comes town to my arm, rubbing it gently. We turn to the way to my place.

The sun has set, and the street lights are on. It's a quiet night, the only things being heard are footsteps and draining water.

Only a block away from my flat, Joseph's arms are still around me. It feels comforting. It's nice to have a new friend. Though, I've known him longer.

"When you get home, I want you to say hi to George for me." I laugh at that. "I'm not kidding."

"Yeah, I'll say hi to George for you." I smile at the ground, then look up at him. He's already looking at me. We slow down a bit, just staring.

Then he leans in, and I mirror him. We lean in closer, closer, and closer. A moped engine turns on. We stop, and pull away.

"Here we are." He stops, and I didn't even notice we were already at my place.

"Oh. Right." He steps away from me, the arm around my shoulders gone. I feel alone again.

"Well, good night, Y/N." He stand there with his hands in his pockets.

"Good night, Joseph." I purse my lips. He nods. I walk up quarter way to the steps, then I stop.

I go back down, see Joseph, I tip toe, then press a kiss on his cheek. I quickly walk up the stairs again, almost tripping.

I make it to the inside of my flat, not bothering to turn the light on, then rush to the window. I peek out of it, and he's still there. He looks bewildered. Then, a smile slowly sits on his face. He stays there for a while, and then he walks away.

I slowly get up from my place, turning on the light, and I just stand there. Then, I squeal.

Holy fucking shit. Oh my gosh. No way, no way, no way, no way. I just kissed his cheek. Holy shit.

That's normal. Totally. Just a friendly kiss. But it felt nice.

I check the time. It's 12 in the morning. New year's kiss. I just had Joseph as my New Year's kiss. Kind of.

I see George, and smile wider.

"Joseph said hi."

I definitely don't hate not hating him anymore.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter four: Flashy Magazines

Next- Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

××《☆》××

It's finally done 😭😭 watch me take a month for chapter five /j. Anw, this is a handful chapter. So many emotions. This is turning out to be an enemies to frienimies to lovers. What do u guys think abt Callum? Honestly, hes lowkey me cus i love cars. I wish i had his car. More of him soon too. I wanted tk add fluff so that u guys dont get the idea that im not making joseph and reader end game. I promise i am but u guys have to wait. Happy reading hope u guys liked this!!!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille Masterlist

12th Girl Masterlist

××《☆》××

Joseph Descamps x Reader

You, as the 12th girl of Voltaire High, must face the new opportunities given by a school that is a mix of boys and girls. Handle your feelings towards a high school bully, make friendships that will last, and study hard enough to be accepted by society.

××《☆》××

===

Chapter one: Mary Jane's - Transferring schools after moving places for the 6th time, a new opportunity is given; a school for both boys and girls. With a new experience to be dealt with, will you survive a blooming rivalry with one of your classmates, a socialising society, and freshman year? Welcome to Voltaire High.

===

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

===

Chapter three: He is half my soul, as the poets say - Having to be in pairs for a group project, two people with mixed feelings work together to create a presentation. Going into eachothers houses is easy until a certain cat wants to play cupid. Feelings erupt, and miscommunication has to be endured. A soccer game in the rain might prove that Descamps listens more than he should.

===

Chapter four: Flashy Magazines - Experimenting is bound to give you attention. Magazines are trending, and not just in the women's department. A one-eyed boy who has recently been caught with something vulgar has respect for women. How surprising.

===

Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look - Callum returns, and Joseph is not so happy about it. A rainy night with forgotten gashes makes you think about a certain "friendship." Eavesdropping hurts a lot more than you thought.

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed - A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Chapter seven: Salvatore - You can't deny beauty, so don't do it at all. Some time is spent at the beach with a boy you're trying to quietly reject. Begging, though pitying, looks good on our one-eyed boy.

===

Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph - Some chances are taken too late. You only realise what you've lost when you're starting to lose them. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you've just started.

===

Chapter nine: You Belong To Me - Years have gone by. It's now 1971. You've peaked in your career. You've become well known. But what happens when an all too familiar face returns, now more drawn to you?

===

Chapter ten: I love you - Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Callum returns, and Joseph is not so happy about it. A rainy night with forgotten gashes makes you think about a certain "friendship." Eavesdropping hurts a lot more than you thought.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: jealousy, love triangle, extreme fluff, angst (surprise!!!), miscommunication

===

===

Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

===

Pattering against cobblestone roads are heard when students walk to their respective schools. Chatter about oncoming rain fills the air, their umbrellas held steadily in their hands.

A familiar clear umbrella is wrapped around my fingers, subtly hitting the ground as I walk, legs a bit heavy from being tired.

Long strided footsteps behind me, I recognise his smell immediately.

"Good morning, Joseph." I don't even look behind me to greet him. He pops up on the left of my peripherals.

"Good morning, Y/N. Need some help?" His voice is deep, but cheery. It's comforting. I nod.

"I'm too tired this morning. I was up all night because I thought George went missing. The whole time, he was just hiding in my laundry basket." A small laugh erupts from him.

"I knew he was mischievous from the start."

"That's why you yelped when you first saw him?" I tease, recalling that afternoon.

"We're not talking about that." He half glares at me through his squinted eyes, then he smiles.

We stay quiet, somewhat awkward, somewhat comfortable. Once we're almost near the gate, he stops.

"Um, I think I'll see you later." He's looking towards the school, most probably his friends.

"Oh, okay." I say, a bit disappointed.

He looks at me with eyebrows furrowed in worry. He looks back at the school, then at me again. He sighs deeply.

He grabs my arm gently and pulls me off to a half hidden area. I look up, confused.

"What are you doing?" He's looking at me like he's about to do something. He doesn't.

"Meet me later in front of your place? I promise, we'll hang out by then." His breathing is quiet, but so obviously erratic against his chest. I place a hand on it, trying to calm him down. He relaxes, only a tad bit.

"Sure. Where are you taking me?" He relaxes even more, and a smile pops into his face.

"That's a secret. See you later." He kisses my cheek, and I'm stunned in my place, hearing his retreating footsteps fade away from distance.

Friendly kiss. Friendly goodbye. Yup.

I feel my legs waver under me, and I try to keep myself composed. What has he done to me? Done so little with so much damage. If you could even call it damage.

I thankfully make it through the gate without tripping on my feet. I meet with the girls and start the day.

××《☆》××

When the school bells finally ring, I make my way outside.

Joseph is leaning against the gate, fingers fidgeting with his lit up cigarette. He turns his head and sees me, getting one last hit before dropping it and crushing it with his foot.

He smiles wider than he usually does, or maybe I only noticed it now. I make my way over, but before I said hi, a familiar mint blue thunderbird pulls up in the parking lot.

Joseph turns his head to see what I was looking at, and his smile drops. He clenches his jaw. He always does that when Callum's around. I don't know why.

I slowly start to walk towards Joseph again, but he doesn't look back at me, keeping a steady eye on the boy exiting the car. I look at Callum, and I smile as a greeting.

Callum returns it with a wave, making his way over, cigarette between his lips. As he walks up the curve, he pinches the tip of his cigarette and flicks it off with his hand.

I get engulfed in a hug, lifting me up from the ground. I yelp as I feel myself spin in the air, and I get down with a laugh.

"You're rather happy today." I say, my hands on Callum's arms for support. He holds my elbows.

"Well, that's your effect." I flush at the compliment, giggling quietly. I turn around, catching Joseph rolling his eye. It's awkward now.

"Um, Callum. You know Joseph." I walk to Joseph's side, nudging him a bit.

"Well, yes. He was quite... charming." Callum's smile falters. He reaches out a hand.

"Good to see you again." Callum purses his lips, and Joseph clenches his jaw. Is there something wrong with his jaw?

"Same with you. How's life been?" Joseph raises his brows and clutches Callum's hand. Callum tigthens his grip, same does Joseph.

"Better with my girl around." Callum nods his head towards me with a smile. I blush behind Joseph. And I thought Joseph's grip was already tight on Callum's hand. He grips even tighter.

"Well, she's not exactly your girl, is she?"

"She's my model. 'Course she's my girl."

"Hm. Well then I don't appreciate when you call my girl yours." They're still grilling eachothers hand. I see their knuckles whiten.

"Well, she's not exactly your girl, is she?" Callum mocks Joseph's words. Joseph stays silent, letting go of Callum's hand to wrap around my shoulders.

I clear my throat, trying to ease the tension.

"So, Callum. What brings you here?" I fidget with my fingers.

"Well, I wanted to take you on a ride since you loved the last one." His eyes glance at Joseph's reaction then back on me.

"Oh, I completely forgot." Joseph turns his head to me, a confused look on his face.

"You're not gonna blow me off just because of this... guy, right?"

"Of course not. I'm taking you with me."

The boys go quiet, going on a silent staring contest. Both their eyes are dark. I feel myself shiver.

"Please?" I see both of them soften, looking towards me.

"Of course, Y/N. Anything for you."

"Sure, Y/N. Just for you."

They spoke at the same time. They turned their heads and went back to glaring at each other. I grab both their hands and lead them to the car.

"So Callum, where are we headed?" I ask, glancing at him but keeping a close stance near Joseph. I feel a hand hover on the small of my back.

"I was thinking we'd go to the fields. You said you wanted to come back there, right?" I nod ferociously. It was a really nice field. There was tall grass and a hill with a tree that overlooked the area.

"Joseph, you'll love it there, I swear." I look up to Joseph, and he's already looking at me with a small smile on his face. He simply nods, seemingly distracted. I turn back to Callum. He also seems distracted but still looking at me. I furrow my eyebrows at their behaviour.

"Let's go?" Callum gets out of some trance and opens the door for me. I get in the passenger seat, Callum in the driver's, leaving Joseph in the back.

Joseph sits right behind me, leaning over to reduce the distance between us. Callum starts to drive.

"I packed up some food, but it's only good for two so..." Callum looks up at the rear view mirror, looking at Joseph. "Sorry, Joseph."

"It's okay, I'll share mine with him." I smile at Callum, then turn around to be met with Joseph smiling at me. His face is really close. I didn't notice the specks of green in his eye till now. He smelled really nice, too, aside from the cigarette smell that flows through the car, obviously coming from both boys.

Teasingly, I bump my nose to his and giggle. He turns red and still. His eye glances down on my lips, and I find myself doing the same thing. He leans in, and the car bumps up. I fall back on my seat with a huff.

"What happened?" I asked Callum, worried he hit something. I put my hand over his on top of the clutch for stability.

"Just a bump on the road, is all. I didn't hit anything, promise." Callum looks at me, then back at the road. He laces his fingers with mine, and I flush in my seat, not knowing what to do.

I don't notice the way Joseph looked. Hurt, confused, jealous, and angry.

We come to a slow stop, and I immediately let go of Callum's hand to get out of the car and run to the hill on the field.

"Come on!" I shout out to the boys. I watch as they come up, Callum with a basket in hand, and Joseph smiling mischievously at the other boy, not helping him one bit.

Joseph gets to me and wraps an arm around my shoulders, planting multiple kisses on my hair. I laugh, trying to get rid of his arm even if I didn't really want to.

××《☆》××

We lie under a tree, me reading a book that Callum had lent to me (he brought it with him because he knew I'd like it), Joseph next to me, one arm propping him up, his hand keeping his head steady, and Callum with his head on my shoulder, reading the book, too.

I felt a finger brush my hip. I thought nothing of it. Until it started soothingly going up and down. I relax, almost dropping the book. I glance at Joseph, smiling a bit. He smiles back, leaning down to plant a kiss on my forehead.

Callum glares at the other boy, then suddenly kisses my shoulder and whispers in my ear. "I really am sorry."

I feel a finger jut against my waist, and I yelp. He starts to tickle me, and I laugh as I push him away, leaving me breathless. As I push him, he grabs my shoulder and brings me with him, making us roll down the hill. It was only a small hill, so it didn't take long for us to stop spinning.

I land on top of him, heaving for a breath with a smile on my face. Callum looks up at me with a smile, catching his breath, too. He leans in, but I get up quickly before anything happens. He does the same, somewhat hesitantly.

I see Joseph run down the hill and come straight towards me. He gently grabs my arms, checking for injuries. He spots some small gashes on my elbows, and his vision goes red.

"Are you fucking dumb? She's got gashes on her because of you now!" Joseph pushes Callum back with force, Callum stumbling a bit.

"She's fine. There's no need to be such a fucking wuss about it." Callum pushes Joseph back. I grab Joseph before he could do anything.

"It's fine, Joseph. Really. Just a bit of fun is all."

"But you're hurt." His voice cracks, and my heart stumbles.

"I'm fine. I promise." I cup his cheek, and he leans on it, holding my hand with his.

I caress his cheek, then let go hesitantly before going to Callum.

"Are you okay? Need some cleaning up?" Callum shakes his head.

"I'm alright, darling. I can take care of myself." I nod in response.

"I think I should get home. You two should, too. And for the love of god, please stop fighting." I furrow my brows at both of them, a bit disappointed.

As I walk away, I think to myself. They're my friends, and I at least wanted them to get along. But they aren't. And I don't know what to do, what to feel, how to react. I sigh. I'm way too tired for this.

××《☆》××

The sun was setting now, the dark already illuminating the other side of the sky. I look out the window, ignoring both of them. We stop at my flat, and I get out. Joseph does, too. I go around the car, leaning down to Callum's window.

"You'll be good driving?"

"I always am." There's a sly smirk on his face, but tired.

"Have a safe drive home anyway. I'll see you soon?"

"See you soon." There's a sort of sad smile on his face. I kiss his cheek, but he might've taken it for something else.

"Good night, Callum." I whisper gently, then back away, walking up to my flat. Callum drives off. I notice Joseph.

"Wanna come in?" He nods.

I let him in my flat, and as soon as I close the door, rain starts pattering against the windows.

"Good thing we got in before we got soaked." I reach my hand out for his coat. He takes it off slowly, walking towards me in a calculated pace. I gulp down a feeling.

His stare is tired, as well as his frame. He hovers over me as he hands me his coat, his head tilted a bit.

He leans in to put his forehead against mine, and I take a breath in, then slowly breathe out.

I place the coat to hang on my arm, my hand going up to caress his back. I feel the air from his nose hitting my lips.

His eye is shut, and I admire the way he looks. He seems to relax, to really show how drained he is from the day.

I begin to imagine if this is what it'll be like when we're grown. He could be coming back from work or going out with his friends, and I'd still welcome him back with open arms and a warm heart.

"I'm tired." His voice is low as he speaks, hand going up to caress my arms. His lashes lay on his under eye as his lid remained shut.

"Wanna go to bed?" He nods, and his nose bumps into mine.

I lean away, and he kisses my head. I take hold of his hand, leading him to my room. I guess he's got the place memorised already because even with his eye closed, he walked through the halls with no stumble in his step.

I let him sit, my fingers combing through his hair as I stood in front of his slouched frame. The rain patters softly.

"I'm gonna get you some clothes. Stay awake for a little while more, okay?" He nods, taking hold of my hand and kissing my palm.

My heart beats in my chest as I walk into my parents' room, going to borrow my father's sleep clothes. Joseph is a good friend. A great one. So why is he the first person that comes to mind when I think of my future? Or when I'm daydreaming, or when I'm thinking of what to do for the rest of the day?

He's just a friend. The thought disappoints me, and I don't know why.

I come back to the room with clothes in my hand, and Joseph is stirring away in his place, eager to stay up because I told him to. I place the clothes on his lap, telling him to use my bathroom. He gets up tiredly from his place on the bed, feet thudding against the floor, and then the door creaks as he shuts it.

I take this time to change, too. I open my closet and grab the most presentable sleep clothes I owned. It was a bit revealing, but the others were worse, so I opted for this one.

It was a nice set. Pink silk with lace and spaghetti straps. The top reached down to my hips, the shorts high on my thighs. There was a tiny bow on the front, and the neckline was low, but not too low. It wasn't tight, quite flowy, actually.

Just as I was putting the top on, Joseph came out of the bathroom. He's rubbing at his eye, and then he stops at the sight of me. He makes his way over, painfully slowly, might I add, and wraps his arm around my waist. He leads me to the bed, making me lie next to the wall, and him at the end of the bed.

He lifts the blanket on both of us. Then he pauses. Though he's tired and his eye is almost shut, I see a sense of worry in them.

"Something wrong?" I ask, yawning.

"I have to take my eyepatch off." He sighs deeply. I nod.

"I can do it for you."

"Yeah?" I hum in response.

"You won't think I'm..." He trails off, but I caught on the idea.

"No. Never." He scans my face, then nods slowly.

I lift my hands up, cupping his face. He exhales softly. My fingers brush the strap of the leather eyepatch, and I slowly slip it off. There were stitches visible, and tears filled my eyes, images of when it happened coming back to me. I keep myself composed and caress his face.

"Is it still sensitive?"

"Not really."

"Can I... do something?"

"Sure." There was no hesitation in his voice. "I trust you."

I lean in, kissing the scar gently. His breath shakes, and I worry to ask him if I had done something wrong when he kisses my palm, then my wrist, then my shoulder, kissing my collarbone as he tucks his head in the crook of my neck. I shiver at the affection but accept it silently.

His kisses go up to my chin, skipping my lips, kissing my nose, my forehead, propping his jaw on top of my head. I feel warm all over, comfortable.

"Good night, Joseph."

"Good night, Y/N."

The bedside lamp stays on, and the rain continues to tap against the window.

××《☆》××

Meows and purrs are heard when I wake. I hear shushing as well, but discard the thought, my tired mind assuming it was just George.

"You'll wake her." A man whispers. I continued to act asleep, suddenly confused and scared of who it could be. The room is cold, but the blankets warm me.

I feel a kiss on my forehead, the imprint of the lips making me realise who it was. Joseph had stayed the night, and I was too tired to remember. I slowly open my eyes, and I'm met with Joseph staring at me contently, hand holding up his head. His other hand is petting George, and his lips form a smile.

"You woke her." He whisper-shouts to George, acting angry. I chuckle a bit.

"Needed to anyway. How'd you sleep?"

"Very good. But my mother's probably worried where I am. I'll just tell her that I stayed in a wonderful fairy's cottage who cared for me and let me sleep in her dreamy home, with her dreamy cat and her dreamy face." I roll my eyes. He starts to fidget with the end of my blouse, rubbing the pink silk against his fingertips.

"Dreamy face?"

"What? It's true." I flush at the compliment. I get up slowly, and Joseph puts a pillow behind me. I lean back on it. He places George on the floor to wander off, and his hand lift my elbows up.

"Should've cleaned it last night. Sorry, I was too tired. Does it hurt?" He blows on it gently. I shake my head.

"It's alright." I lean down, having the urge to kiss his head. He laughs gently, letting me do so.

His eyepatch is on his face again, and I'm sort of disappointed, but don't speak up about it.

"What time is it?" I ask, whispering gently, cupping his head with my hands.

"Six, I think."

"Let's get up, yeah?" He nods, and before I could get my feet on the ground, he lifts me up and carries me on his shoulder, making me fold in half.

"Joseph!" I yelp, adrenaline suddenly rushing in me. I kick and punch at him, urging him to let me go. He doesn't listen, even grabbing a cigarette and smoking it, opening a window, then proceeds to carry me to the hall near the kitchen.

"Let me down." He finally does as he's told, and there's a smile on his face as I look up at him. I glare, grabbing the cigarette and butting it out on a nearby ashtray.

"Come on! What was that for?" He raises his hands in exclamation.

"Have something to eat first before you make my house smell more like you." I walk in the kitchen, then stop in my tracks. There's food already prepped, and I gape at the smell of freshly made pancakes.

Arms slip around my waist, and I grip at them for stability. There's a kiss on my hair, then a whisper.

"Eat well, love. Made it just for you." I blush at the nickname, heart thumping in my chest. Here, I thought we were just friends. We are, I remind myself. Are we?

I get rid of the thought, taking a seat in front of the plate of food. Joseph sits across from me, placing his arms on the table. I dig in, feeding him some slices and letting him take a sip of my drink. I finish up and thank him.

"Any time." He's smiling. I love when he smiles.

I get up from my place, going to my closet to pick out what to wear. Then, I pause.

"Do you have anything to wear?" He shakes his head. I nod after a while, leading him into my parents' bedroom.

"Are you sure your father's fine with me borrowing his clothes?" I shrug, throwing out a pair of socks.

"I'm sure he won't mind. He's barely here anyway." I turn around, a set of clothes in hand. I give it to him, then thought of something. I grab his hand, leading him back to my room.

"Here." I hand him a green cashmere sweater. "Green looks good on you."

"Yeah?" He tilts his head as he teases me. I flush.

"Whatever. Just put it on." I push him towards the bathroom.

I lay out a peach coloured dress, some white stockings, a pair of kitten heels, and some jewellery. I put them on, adding last touches to my hair. Joseph comes out of the bathroom, looking more mature than he was. It's honestly attractive.

"Don't you look nice." I laugh, placing my last earring on, walking towards him.

"Could say the same for you." He talks in a warm voice, deep enough to send shivers down my spine. I grab our coats and satchels, handing them out, petting George goodbye, and exiting the flat.

××《☆》××

The school crowds around the courtyard. I make my way out, paper in hand to show Joseph. In the halls, I see him, and he's talking with his friends. Then, like in the magazine booth, the closer I am, the more I hear. And again, there's a voice inside my head repeating Joseph's words.

"Yeah, she's quite clingy. You guys don't like it when a girl's clingy, right?" Dupin and the others nod, and I feel my heart clench in my chest.

"Plus, she's a model. You guys know what models do in their free time, if you know what I mean. It's nasty." My brain malfunctions, and I stay standing there, frozen.

They eventually break off, and Joseph turns, sees me, and his face drops. I look at him in the eye, then walk away.

I make it down the empty stairwell when he grabs my arm gently to stop me. I whip it away, wiping the tears off my face with my shivering hand.

"Y/N, please." He begs, repeatedly.

"Leave me alone. Don't you think I'm too clingy?" I sob out, sprinting a bit.

"Let me explain!" He shouts out, catching up to me. I stop.

"You don't have to explain a fucking thing, Joseph! I heard everything. You think I'm too clingy, right? Then I'll fucking go! I can't believe I trusted you. You're like every other boy." I push his chest, and he budges only slightly. "Is that why you didn't let me go with you through the gate yesterday?"

"I need to explain, Y/N, or else you'll think-"

"Think what? That you hate me? Because you do, and you know it. You fucking hate me, Joseph. And I fucking hate you, too. I hate you!" I push him again.

"Fine! You don't want to listen, fucking fine! Go back to that stupid Callum of yours, and live a happy life because he's so fucking inlove with you! And you obviously love him, too!"

"What?" I pause, suddenly confused where this came from.

"Don't act stupid, Y/N. I know you aren't. He so obviously inlove with you, and I don't know how the fuck you don't see it. The way he looks at you and touches you. Shit, it makes my blood boil, and I don't even have the right to!"

"Fine! I'll admit that I've noticed it, but I never said anything because I didn't want to-" I cut myself off, realising what I was about to say.

"Want to what? What's got your tongue now, Y/N? You didn't want to commit? Didn't want to do it in front of me? Well, you can do that now. I'm done watching him love you."

I scoff. "I can't believe you. You're making it seem like I'm the only one who did something wrong when you did, too!"

"That's because you won't let me explain!"

"Never fucking mind, then! Leave!"

"Fine!"

"Fine!"

As he walks away, I cry. I cry because I lost someone close. I cry because I lost Joseph. I cry because he's just Descamps again.

I cry because I love him, and now he's just the boy with ash hair.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter five: You Know Where To Find Me, and I Know Where To Look

Next- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

××《☆》××

Back to square one for the two. Sorry not sorry, I SWEAR its for the plot guys. This is lowkey short, its cus the ep was just abt our fav nurse (love her) anw new chapter soon!!!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Transferring schools after moving places for the 6th time, a new opportunity is given; a school for both boys and girls. With a new experience to be dealt with, will you survive a blooming rivalry with one of your classmates, a socialising society, and freshman year? Welcome to Voltaire High.

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: Teen boys being teen boys (ykwim), swearing, violence

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Chapter one: Mary Jane's

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I polish my newly bought Mary Jane's, the last on my to-do list before heading to my new school. After I put them on, I get up to go in front of the mirror and fix my hair. I sigh deeply.

A new school, I think to myself. Again.

I grab my satchel and coat, put both on, and make my way outside.

I recently moved here, coming from Paris. I felt disappointed when we moved, feeling a part of me still in that city, but I knew I shouldn't feel that way. I should've expected it. It's now the sixth time we've moved places.

I live in a flat now with my parents and my cat, George, named after the member of The Beatles. My parents are both always at work, leaving me, most of the time, home alone.

I trip on a crack on the sidewalk, making me fall forward and almost hit a girl. She looks my age, has braided blonde hair and fluffy bangs. She just came out of the butcher's with a man. The man is very handsome, tall, neat, wearing a nicely tailored suit. He has a serious expression on his face.

He only glances at me before turning and ushering the blonde girl to follow him. She looks at me for a while more before turning and following the man.

I compose myself, feeling flustered, and I quickly brush it off. I continue to walk. In front of me, I noticed the two people I saw only a few seconds ago. The man walks off, and the girl stands still in her place. I purse my lips, wondering if I should come up to her. I did.

"Is that your father? He seems strict, but I'm only basing off my experience." I say as I stand next to her. She looks at me, a bit surprised. I wouldn't blame her.

"No. He's my brother. He's strict, yes. And it's very annoying." She furrows her brows a bit and groans. I chuckle.

"I'm Y/N. Where are you headed?" I put my hand out for her to shake.

"I'm Michèle. I'm headed to school, actually." She shakes my hand and smiles.

"Oh? Which school? I might be going to the same one."

"Voltaire. I hope you are. Otherwise, I'd be walking in, not knowing anyone but my brother." She cringes at the thought. I chuckle again. She's funny.

"Good thing I'm going there, too. Let's get going, yes? We don't want to draw any more attention." I tilt my head to the direction of the school. She nods.

I lead the way, her following only a few steps behind. The gates are wide open, and my stomach drops. First day of school jitters. The worst feeling ever. And there's boys everywhere. My stomach drops further.

I slow down my pace to be walking next to Michèle. My anxiety radiates off of me, and with my suddenly hightened senses, I feel Michèle's anxiety, too.

We walk past the gates, and all eyes are on us. My spine feels shivers. It's suddenly quiet. I keep my head held high to not give off an awkward stance. Michèle does the opposite.

Every step we take feels slower than usual. I hear whispers around the campus.

'There they are', 'She's pretty', 'Go talk to her!', 'They do have tits', 'Nice ass', 'They're not supposed to be here'.

My ear twitches, but I don't show a reaction on my face. I notice three boys on the bench, but one catches my eye.

He has sandy hair, wire framed glasses, and is sitting with both arms on the back of the backrest. Before I looked away, I saw a faint smirk on his lips.

We head to the board for our assigned rooms. Me and Michèle sigh in relief as we see our names listed to the same teacher.

I feel movement behind me, but before I could turn, a girl pops up next to us. She had short bobbed hair with a blue clip, bright eyes, and a wide smile.

"There aren't even twenty of us." She states. I smile softly. I hear Michèle sigh in joy.

"We thought we were the only girls." She points to the both of us, and I nod along.

"I waited for both of you to come in." A small laugh comes out from all of us. "I'm Simone."

"Michèle." She responds. They wait for me to respond.

"Y/N." I say, and Simone's face lights up. We pause for a while until Simone cuts the silence off.

"It feels like everyone's staring." She says worriedly but still with a smile on her face.

"They are." Me and Michèle say. The girls continue to talk as I look behind me again and see the sandy haired boy talking, or what looks like teasing, another boy. I think to myself, a bully. I grimace. I look away before he notices me staring.

"Are you wearing heels?" All of us look down to stare in awe at Michèle's foot wear.

"I didn't take you as a bold girl, Michèle." I joke, scoffing in amusement.

"My mom didn't say anything. Hopefully, the teachers don't say anything, too." We all laugh, nodding.

"Oh, Y/N. Look at yours. They look new." I look down at my Mary Jane's, smiling to myself.

"Yeah, they are. My parents got them as a moving gift." Simone nods, but Michèle looks confused.

"Moving gift?" She asks.

"They're gifts I receive when we move places. It's sort of a token of appreciation for being understanding from my parents." They both nod.

"Have you talked to the other girls?" Simone asks, glancing at them. As we all glanced behind, I noticed the boy that was being teased walk to our direction.

"Three were in my electives class, but we're not friends." I transfer my eyes to the group of girls. We look back at each other. Michèle looks to Simone. "Did you go to a Catholic school?"

"No, I was from Algiers. I got here a month ago. I don't know anyone." Simone smiles innocently. Their gazes shift to me. "What about you, Y/N? Are you old or new?"

"I'm new. I moved from Paris." I smile a bit sadly.

"Wow, Paris? I've always wanted to see the tower. Is it bigger than they say?" They start to ask me questions, and I answer happily. I cut them off once the boy I noticed walks closer.

"There's a boy coming. Stand still." They quickly shut up and look back at the board. I hold in a laugh.

"Oh no." The boy says, disappointed.

"Something wrong?" Michèle asks, curious by the boys' exclamation.

"My homeroom teacher is Bluebeard." He responds, now looking at us.

Me, Michèle, and Simone look at each other, confused.

Just then, a new girl walks in. She's wearing a blue dress and headband, her blonde hair swaying in the wind. She sticks out like a diamond in the rough. Boys exclaim, making the same comments they did when me and Michèle walked in, but more vulgar. Distaste has masked my face.

"Do you know her?" God bless Michèle's innocent soul. The boy shakes his head.

The bell rings, and I hear a series of groans. I sigh. The day has officially started.

××《☆》××

I make the lecture fade out of my ears, staring at the stage with no thought in my head. I feel a stare on my left

I turn my head and am met with eyes staring dead straight into mine. The glasses cover the way he'slooking at me, so i can't read how he's feeling, but his eyes are dark and hooded.

I look away slowly, a bit creeped out.

××《☆》××

I stare out the window, watching the trees sway in the breeze and the birds chirp, flapping their wings.

I snap back to reality when Ms. Giraud changes the seating arrangement of the boy we talked to earlier.

The boy with the sandy hair whispers something to him and makes him trip. The class laughs. I stare quietly and think, what an asshole.

"And you, girl with the Mary Jane's. What's your name?" Ms. Giraud says, but it feels like she's screaming. I stand up.

"Y/N Pardine." I respond. I feel the class's eyes on me. A certain pair of glasses covered ones make me shiver.

"Ms. Pardine, what's outside the window that's caught your attention?" I stare at her, a bit annoyed.

"Nothing, Ms. Giraud. I'm sorry I got distracted." There's a voice in my head saying fuck you.

She nods. Thank god. "Sit down. See class? That's how you should respond to your teacher." The lecture fades again as I stare off into space at my desk.

××《☆》××

I learned a few names after class. First, the blue dress girls' name is Annick, then the boy who always gets teased is Pichon, and last and very much the least, Joseph Descamps, the boy with the sandy hair.

××《☆》××

As we walk to our next class, someone bumps into my shoulder harshly. I look in front of me and see Descamps running with his friends. A teacher shouts something like 'no running in the halls'. I glare at his back, and he turns around, and he's smiling. Maybe it was because he was laughing, or maybe he was smiling at me. I stick to the first one and glare harder.

××《☆》××

We sit with the same arrangement as the last class. I tap my Mary Jane's on the hardwood floor and admire the way it shines with the sunlight hitting it.

"Excuse me, sir." I hear someone say. I turn my head and see both Descamps and Annick raising their hand.

"Yes?" The teacher asked. Descamps glances at me, and I furrow my brows. He smirks and looks away.

"I think she raised her hand." He states. I breathe out through my nose, a silent laugh. He's smiling again. Is he always this happy?

The teacher gives Annick a side look. Confusion covers my face. Does he think the girls aren't supposed to be here, too?

He lets her talk, and she does. She explains the meaning of the words written on the board. I look at her, impressed. She's pretty and smart. Good for her.

I see Michèle look to her left. I look, too. The boys pass notes and whisper incoherently. I keep a close eye on them. They pass the note to one boy, Laubrac, who looks like he doesn't know what to do with it.

"Give me that." The teacher states. "Give it to me."

Laubrac gets up, moving to the front of the classroom. The teacher opens up the note, then looks back at Laubrac.

"You think this is funny?" The teacher holds up the note.

"It wasn't me." Laubrac says in defence, but with a calm tone.

"Who is responsible for this masterpiece?" The teacher waves the paper in the air.

I turn my head back to the boys in the back. Descamps is chewing on the tip of his pen, acting like he doesn't know anything. His blinks under his glasses, and I squint. His hazel eyes connect with mine, and I look away swiftly.

"Your name?" The teacher asks as he folds the note.

"It wasn't me." Laubrac states again.

"'It wasn't me'. All culprits have the same name. They must be related. Okay, Mr. It wasn't me-"

"Laubrac. My name is Laubrac."

The teacher pauses. "Alright, Laubrac. Are you the boy from foster care? A nobody's son trying to graduate? How amusing." Gasps are heard.

"Didn't anyone teach you discipline in the care system?" He didn't wait for Laubrac to respond. "I won't let a bastard like you disrupt my class. Get out."

"But he didn't do anything." Michèle gets up from her seat to exclaim. I stare at her in shock.

"Nobody taught you how to raise your hand in your all girls' school, Ms. Magnan? Or maybe you think you have a free pass because your uncle is the dean." This teacher is getting on my nerves. I glance at him with squinted eyes.

"Escort your new friend to your uncle's office. He'll give you detention, too." He points to the door. Michèle and Laubrac start walking. I stare at her worriedly. I lean over the desk to talk to Simone.

"Is she gonna be okay?" I ask her. She turns to look at me with creased eyebrows.

"I think so. Her uncle's the dean, after all." I nod and sit back down.

I glance behind me and catch framed hazel eyes staring. He looks away quickly. I stare back to the front.

××《☆》××

Me and Michèle are walking outside when we hear a man call out her name. Before we could turn, he grabs her arm and leads her to the side of the building. I stood in my place, waiting for her instead of going with when I noticed it was just her brother. I walk to lean against the building, gathering my surroundings. I hear pebbles being stepped on and think nothing of it, assuming it was Simone. It wasn't.

"Good morning." I turn my head, smiling, then drop it when I'm met with a chest. I tilt my head upward, and the sunlight hits my eyes. There's a smile on his face still.

"Why are you alone? Where's your friend?" Descamps interrogates. I stare blankly.

"It doesn't matter to you." I turn my head again. I feel him adjust, putting an arm against the wall of the building.

"I know it shouldn't. But seeing a pretty girl like you all alone worries me. I can't let the other boys get to you before I could." He lowers his voice, dropping his head to reach my height.

I look back up at him. I raise my eyebrows. "How many girls have you used that on?"

He laughs. He's laughing. Why is he laughing?

"You're witty. I like that." I roll my eyes at his words. I notice Michèle in the middle of the grounds with Simone, and I sigh in relief. I walk away from Descamps and sprint to them, trying to keep myself composed.

As I get to them, Simone is running towards the bathroom. I catch my breath and shout.

"Simone, that's not-" Simone squeals as she runs back to us. She's laughing. I smile widely, amused.

"It was the boys' bathroom. I just saw-" We start walking but stop as a boy calls out 'What was that!?'.

"Sorry!" Simone repeats, and we all laugh.

××《☆》××

We all sit and talk in the lunch hall. I look out the window, barely touching my food.

Loud clattering catches my attention. I turn my head and see Pichon's hands in Annick's food. I grimace. There are boys laughing in the background. Pichon says a quick sorry to Annick and walks away, clearly embarrassed. Someone asks Annick if she wants a new plate.

"That idiot should give her his." Michèle says, partially mad. I glance to the boy, and it's Descamps. Of course it is. A series of ooh's are heard in the room. Descamps glances at me, then puts his eyes on Michèle again.

"Does the dean's niece have a problem?" He puts his arm on the backrest of his seat, and the other arm leaning on the table. "What did you tell your uncle? 'Laubrac is innocent. Descamps is the bad one'. The dean's niece and the bastard. A new love story." The hall laughs. I glare at him.

"Why don't you tell us what you wrote on that note?" Michèle bites back.

"It was a drawing. I'll show you." Descamps says calmly. He grabs a bottle and starts drawing on his scrambled eggs. I furrow my brows, already knowing what was gonna happen.

"It's a portrait." He holds up his plate, and his eggs now display a woman's bare chest. I scrunch my nose in digust. The hall laughs yet again. Words come piling out my mouth before I know it.

"It's too bad you'll only ever see them in pictures, not in real life. Women would never fawn over that small dick of yours." I say, and the hall erupts with impressed sounds. He raises his eyebrows. Simone holds up a sausage.

"Does this remind you of anything?" She grabs the other end of the sausage and breaks it in half. I laugh. The hall ooh's again. They start banging on the tables, and it catches a teachers attention.

Descamps glances back at us and glares at Michèle. His eyes travel to mine, and a spark of mischief flashes in his framed eyes. My brows crease.

××《☆》××

The bell rings, and students walk into their classrooms. Me, Michèle, and Simone are walking to our class.

I stare out the windows, seeing the busy streets of the afternoon. The girls are talking about a man named 'Alain Delon' when Michèle opens the door and a tub of water drops on her. I gasp.

The boys are laughing. I look at Michèle in worry. I tried to look for something to cover her up, but our teacher came first. She looks at Michèle, then looks at the room full of boys. She gets rid of her coat and tells someone to keep an eye on the class.

I walk inside, standing in shock near my table at the back at what happened. When I came back to my senses, Descamps was drawing boobs on the board, saying some things I couldn't hear with my unfocused mind.

Before I could walk over to him and give him a beating, Michèle's brother, Jean Pierre, walks into the classroom and starts punching the boys.

The others try to stop him, but he keeps punching. I stare at the scene, unable to do anything.

Descamps's eyes move from the fight to me, and I see emotions flashing in them. Worry, stress, fear, and regret. His eyes continue to stay on me when he gets punched. I cover my mouth in shock. I run near.

I pick up his glasses, and there's a crack on one of the frames. My heart drops when I hear whimpering.

I turn around and see Descamps on the floor, hand cupping his eye. I hadn't noticed the dean until he was kneeling next to him.

"My eye! I can't see." Tears well up. I feel thundering emotions.

My ears ring, and I blur everything out. I can still hear him whimpering. My eyes travel around his shaking body, my heart is beating out of my chest, and I feel like falling.

"Pardine. Take him to the office and call an ambulance." The dean tells me, and I snap back into reality. I quickly go to Descamps and grab his shoulders, ushering him to stand. There's blood seeping out of his fingers. I try not to sob.

He probably thought I was the nurse because he leans into me and relaxes a bit. I sigh shakily. I rub his back with my palm and guide him to the office.

××《☆》××

The ambulance was called, and he was taken to the hospital. I sit on the stairs, watching the ambulance drive away. I sigh deeply and place my head on my hands. I breathe in and out slowly, trying to calm myself.

Why did I help? He's bullied my classmates, especially Pichon and Michèle. I furrow my eyebrows. Fuck.

××《☆》××

I knock on the door, and I'm granted to come in. I quickly grab my things, ignoring the teachers questions. Michèle and Simone lean over to me. Simone talks first.

"Are you okay?" She asks worriedly. I shake my head no.

"I don't feel well. I think I'm gonna take the rest of the day off." Simone nods, understanding. Michèle looks confused but brushes it off.

"Okay. Get home safe. We'll see you tomorrow?" Michèle asks. I nod.

"Sure. See you tomorrow." I leave the room and head to the dean's office, asking for an excuse slip.

××《☆》××

As I lie on my bed petting George, I recall the events. Meeting the girls, talking to Descamps, Descamps embarrassing Michèle, witnessing Descamps go blind, calling the hospital for him. I sigh again. That boy will be the death of me.

I glance at my Mary Jane's. There's a scratch on it. Only when I got home I realised that Descamps stepped on it when he pushed past me. Fuck him and his face.

I hate him, I say in my head. I hate him and will continue to hate him. Two eyes or not.

××《☆》××

End of- Chapter one: Mary Jane's

Next- Chapter two: My eye only

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End of Chapter one, i really hope you guys liked it. It's my first time writing in a long while. When I watched Mixte, i was obsessed with joseph and was disappointed with the lost opportunity of an enemies to lovers. So i made one with a reader insert because i also couldn't find a lot of reader insert for joseph in it. Joseph and reader will get together very soon. Please dm this acc for recommendations. Thank you for reading!!!

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Looking back at the day you first met, you realise how far you've gone. You appreciate the little things in life and some little people, too.

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Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: This is literally just plain fluff, LAST CHAPTER OF DOUZIÈME FILLE!!!

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Chapter ten: I love you

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You had six best days of your life.

Paris, France. 1973.

The wedding was one of the best days of your life. You had a beautiful gown, a beautiful cathedral, a beautiful ceremony, and a beautiful husband.

Everything was perdect from the venue, to the food, to the gifts, and to the guests.

You saw old friends. Callum, of course, came and was pronounced man of honour by Joseph. Simone and Jean Pierre had gotten locked in about two years ago, right after they finished college. Michèle and Laubrac came back after profuse apologies of leaving. They haven't married each other yet, but you have a feeling it's soon. Also because Joseph told you that Laubrac told him that he'll propose soon.

Europe Trip, 1973

The second best day of your life was your honeymoon. You and your now husband went around Europe. Going to places you've already been and places you haven't gone to.

A side note, you left that celebrity profile ages ago. It was too toxic anyway, with all the drama you didn't want to get into. Callum did the opposite of this. You're happy for him. And his fiancé, or as he likes to call him, his husband.

Bordeux, 1974

Moving was hard, but it was the third best day of your life. And carrying Briseis was a part of it.

Briseis, your first born. She was named after a character from the Iliad, the same Iliad you had presented in that project with Joseph back in high school.

She was as bright as her father, always laughing and wanting to have fun. Joseph loves her so much to the point that he will always be the one to put her back to sleep when she wakes in the early morning. He does that because he loves you, too.

Bordeux, 1976

The fourth best day of your life was when you gave birth to George.

George was named after your late cat you had in high school. He was taken care of both you and Joseph, which held a special place in your heart. Truly, George, your cat was your first child. But, let's not forget Briseis.

Briseis was two now, gaining the ability to speak, walk, run, whatever drained her unsifting energy. You were most proud, as well as your loving husband.

One of these nights, you'd catch him talking to both of them, talking about whatever they wanted to talk about, telling them stories, showing them fun. They fall sound asleep after, and you, for one, are grateful for him.

Also, you adopted two cats. One Achilles, one Patroclus. What? You couldn't help it.

Bordeux, 1980

Only a few months ago, your beautiful Callum was born. He was obviously named after your best friend. Callum cried when he found out. That was the fifth best day of your life.

He flew all the way to where you lived, seeing as now he lived with his lover in Sicily. He gave him countless amounts of gifts, even the ones month old babies couldn't use.

The house was fully packed. Your three children, two pets, and a mother and a father. Their very beautiful father.

You were in your 30s now, and you're so glad you're in this age with him by your side.

You sit in your husbands office, reading a book in the corner of the room. He was finishing up some papers, cigarettes between his lips, and sometime later blowing out the smoke.

You were halfway through a stanza when you heard a record break. Music started playing, the volume going up slowly. You look up from your hardcover to Joseph standing there, hands in his pockets and an eye on you. You raise your eyebrows. He does so, too.

"Dance with me, honey." He says, walking towards you slowly after he butted his cigarette out. You roll your eyes, putting your book down.

"You'll wake the kids up with that music." Even after saying that, you get up anyways, grabbing the hands he offered you a while ago.

He shrugs simply, sliding a hand on your hip and raising his other. "We'll take them back to sleep then. Dance with me." He presses his forehead to yours, kissing the tip of your nose.

You can't help but close your eyes, relaxation hitting your body like a truck. It's been a while since you felt like this. You both had been so busy with work or with the kids. You needed this. He did, too.

He starts to hum along the song. "I can see it in your eyes that you despise the same old lies you heard the night before."

Your mind flashes back to your high school days. The weeks of ignoring each other was wasting time that could've been used for loving instead.

"And though it's just a line to you, for me, it's true and never seemed so right before."

You look back at the first day of school. You thought you hated him. You thought he hated you. But in trutg it was the opposite, he confessed. He loved you the second he laid eyes on you, and you had been too blind to see, trying to distract yourself from the fact you did actually love him, too.

"I practice every day to find some clever lines to say to make the meaning come true. But then I think I'll wait until the evening gets late and I'm alone with you."

Seven years you were away from each other. He told you how much he missed you that night after the gala. He told you he prepared, he practised, because he didn't want to mess anything up. You told him nothing could because even after convincing yourself in high school that you didn't love him, you still did.

"The time is right. Your perfume fills my head. The stars get red, and, oh, the night's so blue." He turns you to spin, and you get back to your place in front of him, swaying with a hand on his chest.

"And then I go and spoil it all by saying something stupid like, "I love you. "" He looks deep into your eyes, now staying still. He takes your lifted hand to his lips, pressing his pretty pink lips on it.

"I love you." He says, the instruments in the background adding to the moment. You smile, and he mirrors you. You place a kiss on those lips, tilting your head a bit. You part away.

"I love you." You say, caressing his cheeks. You're so glad you ended up here. With him. This was your sixth favourite day of your life.

"Mommy? Daddy?" A tiny voice asks. You both turn your head to Briseis, eyes droopy and hair a mess. She walks closer to the two of you, and Joseph does the task of lifting her up to your level.

"Yes, sweetheart? Why aren't you asleep?" Joseph said gently, and you can't help but show a smile.

"I can't. I wanna hear a story." You two nod at each other before carrying on to turn the record player off and heading to Briseis' room.

Once you tuck her in well, leaving the bedside lamp on, you question. "Alright, which story do you want for tonight." Joseph sits on the other side, brushing your daughter's hair with his fingers.

"How did you two meet?" She asks, fluffing her blanket up. You and Joseph look at each other, smiling knowingly, before you continue.

"Well, this is where it started. It was 1963. They mixed boys and girls in the same school. I was the twelfth girl."

××《☆》××

End - Chapter ten: I love you/Douzième Fille Series

××《☆》××

The series has officially ended. I'm so sad and so happy at the same time. I can't believe it. It's been so long with this series, and it's over. Our babies have grown up and have their own babies.

To all the people who read this, thank you so much for keeping up with it. This was my first ever series, and its amazing how many people have come and followed the journey.

This is a memory that'll be embedded in me for the rest of my fuckign life, no matter how cringe that sounds, but it's true. I made a lot of memories with an online fanfic series. it's crazy

I love you all so much and want to thank you guys for the support. I will continue writing for joseph it just depends on my mood. I will now start to write for other ppl, like u guys saw me post abt hamzah.

ANWWW, it's been a journey. Thank you again, and I hope you all enjoyed it.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th Girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

Some chances are taken too late. You only realise what you've lost when you're starting to lose them. Goodbyes are hard, especially when you've just started.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warnings: ANGST ANGST ANGST, turn back now I'm warning you, goodbyes, intimate scenes, MAJOR heartbreak, swearing

References to Call Me By Your Name

===

===

Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

===

It was hot that morning. I woke up in a layer of sweat, windows exuding heat, hair clinging on my neck, my blanket on the hardwood floor.

George sits on the window frame, taking the heat opposite of how I was.

I get up, groaning with a slight headache. I place my feet on the floor, keeping my eyes closed for the time being, trying to relax and gain back my senses.

There'd been a feeling in me this whole time, but as I woke up, it felt so much more evident. A clench in my chest.

I don't know where it came from or when it started, but I felt it there. It never really took my attention. Maybe it was from whatever position I was in. Or if I hadn't eaten or drank enough.

Summer is just around the corner, but I don't want it to start. It was always something I looked forward to.

Dipping into cold waters under the heat of the afternoon sun, eating fruits with their juices spilling over countertops and silverware. Tanning, sunburns, dry mouths from salt water. Then winter comes and you wait for summer again.

It's probably because I'm expecting something I know won't be there. But what is it? I have a summer job now, and I'm headed to Paris. What else could I possibly want?

I know exactly what. It's not that I'm afraid of it. It's because I can't change it. And it hurts.

Summer is when I'm supposed to be happy. He's ruined all of that now. I've got to get a grip, too. He won't care, so I shouldn't. But I care. I care a lot.

This isn't something I should think about. I'll forget him as soon as I get to Paris. I'll forget anything that's happened between us, even if nothing really did. I'll forget, and I'll forever have that feeling that I felt now. That something's there, and I'm not giving it attention.

Because deep down, I know what it is. And, it hurts.

××《☆》××

The walk to school was short-lived and ordinary. Nothing special happened. It was just brighter; which didn't really match my mood.

I was also a bit late. Most of the students were already heading in, and the bell rang as soon as I stepped through the gate.

I make my way up the staircase, keeping my head downcast and not paying anyone any mind.

All throught class it wasn't special. We did assignments, lectures, and all common school things. But the sound of pages being flipped, ink on paper, pattering of floorboards, it comforted me. I knew those sounds would stay with me throughout my life. People don't.

When class was dismissed, I took my time. I might not see this school again. I might move back to Paris. I might not see Michèle or Simone as much. And I won't, more so refuse to see Joseph ever.

It was afternoon now, so everything's brighter than this morning. And everything's hotter, too. I shade my face with my hands, squinting to see Callum's well-known car on the side of the road.

He's outside leaning on the door, smoking. I'm guessing his third cigarette today. He still has his wide smile on, and I wonder if his cheeks ever hurt.

"Good afternoon, pretty girl." He says as he patches his cigarette out. "How are you?"

"Hot." I shrug, going around the car with Callum as he opens the passenger door for me. I get inside, him as well after doing another roundabout the car.

"Well, love how you state what I already know." I think about that sentence for a while, sensing it was off. I realise what he meant, and I smack his arm.

"Oh, what now? Let me be funny!" I roll my eyes as he starts the car, a faint smile on my face. One thing I know for sure is that Callum is one of the people who would stay with me throughout my life. He was the reason I'm going back to Paris, the reason I have somewhat of a career. And I'm glad I met him, even with the circumstances of difficult feelings.

Whilst I talked about my day to him, I had realised nothing special happened because I didn't interact with Joseph. The day felt gloomy. It felt so underwhelming, so boring, because he wasn't involved.

"And it's so weird because we hadn't talked since that dinner." I tell Callum, who's been listening to me this whole time. We decided to go to a lake to cool off. It was a bit well known, but not too crowded since the school season isn’t off yet.

I made a quick pick up in my house, including a goodbye to George.

Going back, Callum nods. His hand flexes on the steering wheel.

"So, let me round this up. Joseph's mother invited you to dinner, then teased both you and him, then when he walks you out to their place, some girl-"

"The girl from the alley."

"The girl from the alley pops up from nowhere, fully dressed up."

"Exactly."

"But, why?"

"What do you mean why?"

"I mean, sure, I've never met her, but who could compete against you?"

"Okay, Callum, whatever-"

"No, I mean, how stupid can Joseph be to pick anyone but you?" This makes my breath catch on my throat.

"Don't call him stupid, Callum. He's fucking brilliant."

He quiets down, smile fading just a bit from my serious tone.

"Sorry." I had apologised.

"No need. It's fine. I just... you know what I meant."

"Yeah, I knew what you meant. Just... instict, you know?"

"I get that. You're in love, so you're defensive." He shrugs and starts to smile again. He's holding in a laugh.

"Shut up." I glare.

"Not gonna happen." I don't want it to happen.

××《☆》××

The next morning was the same. It was hot, I took a longer shower, got dressed, said goodbye to George, and headed to school.

This time, I met with Simone. I ask her about Michèle, getting worried that she hasn't come to school for two days straight. Before she could respond, she stopped in her tracks, seeing Jean Pierre across the hall.

"I- I'm sorry, Y/N, but I really need to talk to Jean Pierre. Stay here, please?" She scrunches up her face in guilt, but I simply shrug it off, knowing that if she wants to talk to someone, I shouldn't stop her. Especially if that someone is her boyfriend. Or whatever he is.

They go ahead to talk, me staying at the same place she left me, keeping a close eye on them. I lean against the wall, the hallway now a lot more quiet than when the bell rang a few minutes ago.

Their conversation lasted for only a bit because I saw Jean Pierre walking away. I head to Simone's side.

"So, what did you talk about?" She's still, and there's no emotion on her face. I worry.

"He just broke up with me." Oh. I pull her into a side hug, not knowing whether she was devastated with the news or if she was okay with it. She looked like both but neither at the same time.

I nod towards the stairwell, deciding for the both of us we should head to the courtyard to have our break. Or the bathroom for a quick cry.

We pass by a group of boys, and one of them keeps his eyes on me. Then, when I turned to glance at who it was, I realised it was just an eye.

In that moment, everything in me faded away. All the hate towards him, all the sadness, all the misunderstanding. I just wanted to talk to him again. For one last time. So I did.

"Joseph," I stop in my tracks. I tell Simone to keep going, that I'm fine left alone. She nods in acknowledgement and walks down the staircase.

I turn around to meet his stare. My breath catches in my throat, not having this kind of interaction in a while.

I walk towards him, a bit slow. "Can I talk to you?" I pause. "Alone?"

His friends tease him and push him around lightly, but his eyes are still as well as his whole body. I fear his heart might be, too.

He simply nods and silently eyes his friends to go. We're left alone near the window and take a seat in the space.

"You must be wondering why I'm talking to you again so suddenly." He stays quiet, looking down.

"Joseph..." I scoot closer. I bring both my hands up to his cheeks, only hovering above them.

He stays silent. I bring my hands back until he leans forward and into them, gently grabbing my wrists and holding them still. I feel the air come out of his nose as he exhales, body slumping down.

"I'm sorry. For everything. Ignoring you was one of the most stupid things I've done. Being angry was second." I tilt my head to see if he's opened his eye, but he keeps them closed. His thumb rubs one of my wrists.

"You should be with anyone you want to be with. It shouldn't matter to me. But, it did." He lifts his head, peering an eye. His mouth opens, then closes again. I keep going.

"I missed you. I've been missing you. I miss all the times we weren't mad at each other." I caress his cheeks, and he leans into my touch.

"I was never mad at you." Joseph says, but I shake my head.

"You were. And that's fine. It's okay to be mad at me. I get it." He furrows his brows at me.

"Don't say that. I was never mad at you. I've never been mad at you."

"But what about all those times you shouted at me? Those times in the streets?" He sighs deeply, not as relaxed as before.

"I was mad at myself, but I was letting it out on you. And I'm sorry about that. But trust me, I could never be mad at you."

We just stare at each other after. The silence fills the air, and it's the first time it was like this in a while. I had to tell him.

"I'm leaving." I feel his breath stop, and it's so nauseating.

"What?" He mumbles out.

"I'm leaving." I repeat.

"For the summer?" He squints, the gears turning in his head. I wish it was only for the summer.

"No," I look down. "For good."

He pulls away from my hands, sitting straight again.

"No..." He shakes his head. "Don't lie to me."

"I would never." I look him dead in the eye, not wanting him to think that I would ever do.

"Exactly. I know you'd never. So why are you lying to me now? This is some joke, right? Like a cliffhanger for next year. Right?" I simply stare at him.

"Y/N, please tell me you're lying. I'll let it slide. Tell me you're lying." He begs, grabbing a hold of my dropped hands.

I don't move. I don't look at him. I don't say anything. That was enough of an answer.

"No..." He whispers. He does it all over again as he gets up and paces. He rubs at his eye, and I get up and say "Stop."

He stills. I see the tear stains reflect off his cheeks from the sunlight outside coming in. His head is down as it was before. I sigh deeply, placing my hands on his shoulders.

"Come here." I pull him in, and he immediately engulfs me in an embrace. He sobs desperately, and I try my hardest not to join him.

A series of "please don't go"s spill out of his quivering mouth, and my brain goes numb. He's shaking. His heart is pounding. His mind's all over the place.

I hush him, rubbing his back like I do with a baby, whispering nothings into his ear. When he stops, his body is still slumped down to hold mine.

"We wasted so many days. Why didn't you tell me sooner?" He asks once we're sat back down the window.

"I tried. I promise. We were still mad." He laughs, and it's been such a long time that my brain got nostalgia.

"Fuck. I'm gonna miss you all over again." He bites his lip as he looks down, fiddling with the inseam of his pants. I purse my lips together.

"We'll keep in touch." He shakes his head.

"You'd be everywhere."

"I'll call your home phone."

"I'm not gonna be home in the summer."

"I'll call wherever you are."

"Thank god you thought of something for that because I was ready to start sobbing again." He laughs again, and the suns back in his eyes. Like it left and came back.

I grab a hold of his hands, stopping him from fidgeting. I make him look back up at me.

"I promise I'll phone you every day. I'll send you letters, postcards, and pictures. I'll even send you some magazines I'm in." I shrug, and he smiles.

"I don't think you have to do that last one. I'm keeping my eye on every magazine booth here on out." We chuckle together. We stay quiet again, then Joseph tucks my hair behind my ear.

"You're beautiful, Y/N Pardine. You'll do great out there. I'm only a phone call or a pen away." I flush at his bluntness and smile sweetly. He does, too.

××��☆》××

The party happened. We spent almost the whole time together. We had even danced.

An American song called "At Last" plays in the background as Joseph holds me, dancing slowly.

His hands cup my waist, my arms wrapped around his neck, his forehead against mine. I play with the ends of his hair as he caresses my body.

We laugh, we drink, we talk, and we glance. We do what we missed. We held each other. We absorbed one another.

There was a time in that party that happened between Simone and Jean Pierre. Thank god he finally said something of the truth, because that breakup was a straight lie.

Anyways, the night ended, but nothing happened. I don't know what I was expecting, but there was a feeling something special could've happened to me. Like a string tugging on my insides.

Something to do with pretty pink lips.

××《☆》××

The next morning, I woke up with his arms around me.

He smelt of fading whiskey, cigarette smoke, and expensive cologne. Just as he always did.

His eye patch was off, his hair a mess, and his jacket's on the floor. His shirt is wrinkled, he's breathing evenly as one does in their sleep, and there's a small snore coming from him. It's adorable.

When I get up, or at least try to, his grip on me tightens. Not in a way that hurts, but it's strong enough for me to come collapsing on his chest. He's warm again.

"Five more minutes." He groans, and I sigh deeply. Five more minutes will be alright.

Ten minutes pass, and only then do we get up. I hand him a towel and some clothes, my father's again, then one of my own, then usher him to the bathroom. I fix our bed, pick his jacket up off the floor, and fold it neatly.

Once I hear the shower turn off and the door creak, I try my best not to turn and just... stare. It's creepy, I know. But, who could blame me? I mean, I was leaving for good.

Right. Leaving for good.

I feel his arms wrap around my waist, his head tucking into my neck, his nose poking at some sensitive spots. I squeal silently, and he chuckles to himself, the vibration of his chest spreading around my back.

"Want some breakfast?" He whispers. George lies by the windowsill, watching the both of us in embrace. His tail moves around, eyes blinking slowly. He's glowing from the sunlight hitting him.

"If you don't mind. Please, and thank you." I turn my head a bit towards him. He nods, pressing a kiss to my hair. I smile to myself whilst I check things off my list last minute.

He's done with breakfast by the time I finish my quick shower. I'm fully dressed now. The only things missing are my coat and my suitcases.

Joseph sits across from me. We were in this position before.

"So, how's Callum? Still a prick?" He says as he stabs on some of the eggs he made. I finish my bite before answering.

"Callum's doing fine. I don't know why you've always been so off about him. He's a good guy." I shrug, tilting my head for an answer. "What's got you like that?"

He sighs, dropping his utensils gently on the table top. I place a hand over his, and he turns it to hold mine.

"Felt like he stole you from me." He mumbles, but it was clear enough for me to hear.

I purse my lips at this remark. "No one's gonna keep me away from you. Except that girl that actually did." I laugh as Joseph groans.

"I already told you, I didn't even know her." From this, I kept going.

"Well, then why did you basically call me a slut?" I raise my eyebrows in amusement, as to show that I moved on from it. Still, I was curious.

He pauses. For a long time. I begin to worry, thinking he actually meant it. I try to pull my hand away, but his grip turns firm.

"No." Joseph whispers out of desperation. He's taking deep breaths. I can tell he's overthinking. But I need to know the truth.

"You've got to tell me, Joseph. Otherwise, we'll shrug each other off again. Do you want that?" I push on him. He needs to tell me. I need to know.

"No. I don't want that. Just..." He closes his eyes, readying himself.

"The boys wanted to talk to you. I couldn't let them. I knew how they meant. And I'll just put it simply that they meant badly. So I had to tell them things about you that weren't true so they could get pushed away from the idea of you." He cups my cheeks from across the table. I lean into his touch.

"I don't want anyone to take advantage of you. Thank whatever god is up there that I found out because if I hadn't..." He breathes in deeply, caressing my face with his thumb. "I don't even want to think about that. Okay?"

I nod. I get up from my seat to give him a hug. He remains seated, his face pressed up on my stomach. I rub his back and comb fingers through his hair.

He stands up slowly, hands still attached to my hips. They roam up to my wait as he hovers over me, and I feel my breath hitch in my throat. He's so close. His nose just bumps into mine. He's looking down at me. At my eyes. At my lips. His breath is haggard.

"Callum's probably waiting." I whisper, my breath fanning over both our lips. Our lips only an inch away from eachother.

"Let him wait." His voice is low. He's starting to make my knees buckle.

A loud crash is heard throughout the flat. I yelp away from him. Now we're feet away from each other, cheeks flushed and hair tousled. As if we did something. And we didn't even.

George meows on the kitchen counter, staring at us innocently with the keys now on the floor. I sigh deeply, walking towards him and picking him up.

"Oh, I hope you don't mind, but," I hand George to Joseph. "My baby's yours."

His eye widens in surprise, then he switches his gaze from me to the cat, then back to me, then back to the cat.

"I can't..." I shake my head, smiling.

"He's yours, Joseph. That's final. He already loves you more than me. It's alright. Plus everytime you see him, you think of me."

He flushes, demeanour relaxing. "I already think of you too much."

It's my turn to flush now. But I respond. "Good."

××《☆》××

We arrive at the train station. I bid a thank you and goodbye to Joseph's mother, hugging her for a short while. Joseph carries all my belongings.

I spot Callum at a bench.

"Callum, you remember Joseph." I nod to Joseph. He drops my things next to Callum's.

"Of course I do. The infamous lover boy. It was nice meeting you, man." Callum shakes Joseph's hand. Joseph purses his lips tightly, gripping on Callum's hand.

"I'm still not sure about you... but she trusts you, so I should, too." Callum nods firmly. They let go of their handshake.

"Well, I better get our things in. Say your final goodbyes." He moves to go in the train. Me and Joseph are alone again.

"Got your pretty things intact?" Joseph teases, and I simply laugh.

"Yes, I do." I look up at him. He moves closer, hands on his hips.

"One day, I'll hear those words again." There's a feeling in me. Like dejavu, but a feeling from the future. I couldn't explain it, but what he said made sense. Like I knew, I would say those words again, too.

We stand in silence. I walked closer, embracing him for one last time. He leans down, his hands tight around me, his head over mine. I feel a lump in my throat.

We held each other for one last time. We smelt each other for one last time. We absorbed each other one last time.

I try to pull away, but he pulls me back in. The lump grows bigger.

When we finally pull away, my eyes start to sting. I palm my throat, trying to push that growing lump down. His hands are on my shoulders. He lets go.

"Goodbye, Y/N Pardine." He mutters, his voice breaking.

"Goodbye, Joseph Descamps." I mock him with a smile on my face.

I turn around and walk on the train. Joseph follows me, guiding me up the steps. His hand holds onto mine. I hang on the pole.

The train blares its horns, and it starts to move very slowly. The tears escape my eyes. He wipes it away.

"Y/N," he says. "I love you."

I sob. I laugh. It's a bit ugly.

"I love you, too. So much."

He stands on his toes and kisses me. His pretty pink lips are finally on mine. I grip the trains pole harder.

The trains blares again, and my kisses become more desperate. The train moves faster and faster, and Joseph starts to run. His lips start parting from mine, tears dropping even more.

"Come back to me, Y/N!" He shouts. He's still running. He's laughing now. And he's crying. He's beautiful. He gets farther, farther, and farther.

Then he's gone.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter eight: Joseph, Joseph, Joseph

Next- Chapter nine: ______

××《☆》××

I'm actually crying omfg. This hits so diff w the song in the background. Its short but omfg the angst. Help me. Hahhahahahaha.

[user2772636]

Douzième Fille

12th girl

××《☆》××

××《☆》××

A new task; Kidnap some frogs and a film to get an hour study session with the Annick Sabiani. Things are still unstable with Joseph. Maybe Callum could help. Your fear of hopping creatures makes a boy forget what went wrong.

===

Joseph Descamps x Reader

Warning: frogs (whoevers scared of them), swearing, boys being boys, angst

Also, yes, I do know harry potter, I was in both that and the marauders fandom (esp marauders)

===

===

Chapter six: Mischief Managed

===

"Sophia Loren is so beautiful." We look up at a movie poster, stating that only eighteen above can watch.

"What about Brigitte Bardot?"

"My mother says she's vulgar."

"Apparently, we can sneak in through the back door." Simone points towards the cinema.

"How do you know that?" I ask her, curious.

"A boy told me." It's definitely Jean Pierre.

"Is it Eugène?" Oh, Michèle.

"No, it wasn't." Simone shakes her head, and she's basically telling the truth.

We turn a corner. "You think I'll meet him someday?" Michèle asks Simone. I glance at the dark haired girl, worry spreading in me.

"Who?"

"Eugène."

"I don't know."

I stay quiet, a one-eyed boy in the back of my mind.

××《☆》××

Students enter through Voltaire High's gates and head inside the building.

I sit in the very front of my class, tapping a pencil against the table, anxiously waiting for my score.

"Pardine, 10." I sigh in relief, scanning the paper.

Frogs croak loudly throughout the room, making me shiver in fear. Small, slimy, hopping creatures were not my thing.

"And finally, Miss Sabiani, 12." Laubrac claps his hands, followed by the class. Annick has been glowing, much more social and vibrant. Good for her, comparing her old self to now.

I look back at my score, sighing. I could've done better. Could've gotten a twelve like Annick. I clench my jaw, disappointed.

Then, for the first time of many times today, a paper plane lands on my table. I furrow my brows, turning around to see who could've done it. None of them look suspicious, but Joseph looks nice. Too nice. And he's wearing green.

I turn back around, not knowing if I was flushed because of anger or because of him. Probably both. Annoyingly, both.

"Tomorrow, we'll all be dissecting frogs." My stomach reacts badly, making me gag silently.

Sure, frogs weren't my cup of tea, but dissecting them? I wouldn't even wish death on Joseph. Though, a part of me knows hatred isn't the reason for this.

I have noticed today that Joseph's been gloomy. He's off, and obviously not in a good way. His eyes that were once lit by its own sun dims down like when a storm approaches. And he's not smiling. I miss his smile.

No, I don't. I don't and won't miss anything. He hates me, and I guess I hate him, too. He decides to talk shit about me? The audacity of that man. I wish I could just grab his neck and strangle him and look at him and see his fucking pretty lips turn into a smile-

That god-awful smile. It ruined me. And I hate his smile. I hate it. I hate him.

××《☆》××

We're all gathered up in the courtyard, discussing our grades, when suddenly, boys started crowding near Annick. I overhear what they say.

"One hour with Annick!"

I furrow my eyebrows. One hour? That's what they're freaking out about? Well, it was Annick, and they were boys, so I guess I shouldn't be too confused.

"Hey, what's happening?" I walk up to Pichon, and he looks startled as he sees me.

"Annick is giving out an hour private lesson if someone steals the frogs and the film from English earlier for her." Pichon stutters out.

This morning, in English class, we watched a movie called "To Kill A Mockingbird", the film adaptation of the book. I guess Annick liked it so much that she wants someone to steal it for her.

In the corner of my eye, a tall blonde's wafting his arms in the air. I had a sudden question.

"Hey, do you have any idea why Applebaum stopped talking to me? I know it was from long ago, but I sometimes wonder what happened." Pichon pales, and my brows pinch together.

"You know how Applebaum's glasses went missing?"

I nod, remembering the day at the gym.

"Well, that was Descamps. After that, he came up to us and threatened Applebaum's eye if he went to talk to you again. Applebaum whined for hours to us after that. He said he lost his chance at the only girl who's ever given him one."

I chuckle absentmindedly, shocked at the new information. Then, I turn angry.

"Descamps, did that? Why? Why would he want Applebaum away from me?" Pichon scans my face, trying to see if I'm serious or not.

"You really don't know?" I shrug, suddenly embarrassed. Pichon scoffs. "He's in love with you, that's why. Even when he looked like he hated you, from how I saw it, he was so in love it turned him into a mad man. I always caught him looking at you or being near you, even if it was a hundred feet away. Wherever you were, he was, too." It's my turn to scoff.

"He doesn't love me. He hates me. I caught him in the halls, talking about me to his friends and saying I was too clingy." My heart shatters in my chest as I recall that moment.

"Wait. How could he say you were clingy?"

"We've hung out the past few days. He's stayed the night the day before I heard him call me that."

"What? You let him stay the night?"

"Yes? What's wrong with that? We're friends. Or atleast we were."

"Oh my god, no offence, but how could you be so daft? You love him, too!" Pichon says a little too loudly, making the courtyard glance at us before returning to their own conversations.

"I don't! Now keep your voice down, or I'll rip them off." I whisper-shout at him.

"You even talk like him." I roll my eyes at his conclusion.

"Anyways, don't be delusional. He doesn't love me, actually, quite the opposite, and I don't love him. That's that." There's a lace of disappointment in my voice, but I cover it up with a stiff face.

Pichon raises both his hands in mock surrender. "Whatever you say." He walks away, a smile dancing on his lips. I scoff.

He doesn't know what the hell he's talking about.

××《☆》××

I lean against the wall facing Michèle as we wait for Simone in the toilet.

"So?" Michèle calls out to the door.

"Yes, it's my period." The door opens, and Simone walks out. She closes the door.

"Is there a stain on your skirt?" Simone checks.

"No. But my underwear's ruined. The rest is fine. I put toilet paper" I notice how messy she looked. I comb her hair out with my fingers. She grabs her things from Michèle.

"You should go to the nurse, Simone." I tell her, worried.

"Yeah, my aunt will have pads." Michèle interjects.

"No, I'll be fine." I puff out my cheeks at her stubbornness, but dismiss it.

We start to walk, but after only a few steps, Simone clutches on her stomach.

"You definitely need to go to the nurse." She shakes her head.

"You poor thing." Michèle says as we continue to walk.

Once we make it out the door to the courtyard, Pichon pops out of nowhere. I squint at him, still pressed about earliers conversation. He just smiles at me.

"Michèle." He says. "Can I ask you a favour?"

"Sure." Michèle responds, walking down the steps with us.

"Do you know where your uncle keeps his keys? There must be spares. Y/N needs them, too." I raise my eyebrows in surprise at the bold question. Then I remember the Annick situation. I nod along.

A voice butts in. "Hey, are you nuts?" It's Dupin. "Don't involve the dean's niece." He's leaning against the wall with his hand on it, legs crossed. "She's gonna snitch."

"What's he talking about?" Simone asks.

"Oh no, not again." Pichon looks between us and Dupin then walks away. I look at him confused.

Michèle walks down to Dupin. "You think I'm a suck up because I'm the dean's niece?"

"Yes." I know that voice all too well. I look at Joseph, and we lock eyes. I scan his face. Nothing's changed much, but it feels like something did. He glares at me then stares baack at Michèle.

"Let's go, guys." Simone says, walking down the steps. Michèle follows, but I stay.

"I heard about what you told Pichon and Applebaum." I walk the down the steps, looking up at his towering figure. He glances at Dupin and his friend, nodding them to go somewhere else. They follow.

"What about it?" He tilts his head at me, hand in his pockets.

"Why are you threatening Applebaum's eye if he looks at me?" His jaw clenches.

He pauses. "Why not?"

"Why not?" I chuckle half heartedly. "Why not?"

"Did I stutter?" Wow, since when did he have sass?

"You're an asshole, okay? First, you talk shit about me to your friends, talk shit about my friends, then I'm now just finding out you threatened Applebaum?" I raise my eyebrows at this, disappointment seething through my teeth.

"Well, that's just life, isn't it?" What the fuck is wrong with him?

"What the fuck do you even mean? We were so close, Jo- Descamps. We were friends, didn't you think?" I stutter at saying his name, embarrassment coating my cheeks.

"Back to last name basis?" There's disappointment in his tone, but I somehow catch his eye glancing down at my lips. I flush more.

"Yeah. Why not?" I mock his words, jutting my head forward.

"Alright, Pardine. If that's what you want." He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly. He's starting to piss me off.

"I didn't fucking want us to stop being friends. We had to because, for some reason, it's only now that I remembered you're an asshole."

"Whatever." He scoffs out.

"Fine." I stepped closer. I already feel his warmth.

"Fine." He steps closer. He smells the same. I wish things were still the same.

"Fuck you." That's the last thing I say before walking away, feeling his stare on my back.

××《☆》××

"Stealing Herman's frogs and Couret's movie? Did Annick cast a spell on them?" I exclaim, raising my arms. Michèle and Simone follow behind me.

"And Dupin calling me a snitch. I may be the dean's niece, but I'm no rat." Michèle says over my shoulder. I nod in agreement.

I glance at Simone, seeing her clutching her stomach. "You okay?"

"I'm fine." She answers simply, face grimacing.

"You should I ask my aunt to write you a note and go home." Michèle says as she rubs Simone's arm.

"You think?" Me and Michèle nod.

"Okay. I have to go to the bathroom. It's soaked already." I nod again and lead Simone to the bathroom door.

"Michèle." I stop in my heels as Simone turns to Michèle. "You should steal the frogs. That'll shut them up." We continue to walk.

I lead Simone down the staircase, her one hand gripping mine and the other on the rails.

"Are you okay, Ms. Palladino?" Ms. Couret says, looking up at the both of us.

Simone talks to Ms. Couret and I excuse myself. Before I leave, Simone looks at me, glancing at Ms. Couret. I remember the film then nod at Simone. She nods back. I go all the way down the stairs, going out to the courtyard and on my way to the gate.

This morning, Callum called. He told me he had some news. When I asked why he chose lunch time to tell me, all he said was it was so important that he wanted to tell me face to face, and as soon as he was on his lunch break. So, naturally, I agreed.

I see the Thunderbird from a distance, its colour eye catching. A tall frame with messy brown curls exits the car, making his way to me, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

"Good afternoon, beautiful." I roll my eyes at the name, smiling. He simply chuckles. I walk out the gate. He hands me the bouquet.

"What is it?" I ask, implying the news he wanted to tell me.

"Not even a hello? I'm hurt." I stick my tongue out to him. "Anyways, how do you feel about Paris?" My ears perk up at the mention of the city.

"Paris? I miss the place. Why do you ask?" My heart beats in excitement, not knowing what to expect.

"Well, the people loved you so much. The company that released the magazine contacted me to get to you." I raise my eyebrows as he pauses. He furrows his.

"You don't get it? They want you in Paris by summer because they want you to model! Like, professionally." My eyes blow wide open and I gape in surprise. My mouth open and closes, not knowing what to say.

"Callum." I stutter out. "Please don't lie."

"I'm not." Tears rim my eyes, and I blink them away.

"I swear Callum if you're lying-"

"I'm not! I swear on my life." He laughs, his breath blowing on my face.

"Fuck, Callum." I give him a hug, wrapping my arms around his torso, gripping him to stay upright, my mind unable to grasp whether this was real or not.

He wraps his arms around my shoulders, rubbing my back and kissing my hair. "You deserve this. I'm so proud of you."

I pull away from his chest, dried streams of quiet tears on my face. Callum still wipes them away.

"Let me take you out tonight." My heart sort of drops. I can't, I tell myself. Why can't I? Then, a one-eyed boy is in my mind again. Oh. I grip my bouquet.

"Sure." Joseph wouldn't care. I then realised that he probably never did. Whatever, it's fine. But really, it isn't. I shouldn't be thinking about him, I should be thinking about the fact people want me to model for real.

But I can't help it. There's a boy in front of me, a modelling opportunity, and a dinner to look out for tonight, but all I can think about is him.

Him and his ash coloured hair, eyes that change colour in the light, smile that makes my heart clentch in my chest, and his lips. His beautiful, plump, pink lips.

Then I look up at Callum, and he looks at me the way Joseph once did. And I crumble internally, realising how much this beautiful boy will break when he finds out how I feel about someone else.

Joseph never loved me. I don't think he did. I felt used, hurt, and betrayed after what I witnessed. And what's funny is the fact that after that incident, that's when I realised I loved him. I love him.

I love Callum, too. But the way I feel for Joseph, it's different. And it's too bad I realised I loved him and that he hated me too late. I can't help but love him anyway.

That's the thing with love, though. When you realise you feel it, you can't let go. The way it feels is so different, you're too scared to let it go because you don't know when or if you'll ever feel it again.

"I'll pick you up at 6?"

A pause.

"Sure."

××《☆》××

My footsteps echo through the halls, too loud, in my opinion. I follow Michèle, her eyes glancing at me from time to time. I guard the door as she walks in and grabs both of the needed keys.

She gives me my set, whispers good luck, and walks to her room. I part to mine.

I quickly unlock the room and close it behind me, a quiet click sounding around the empty class. The film was situated at the table, leaning against some books. It looked like it was meant to be stolen.

Then I hear footsteps shuffling outside. I get under the table, trying to figure out the noise. It was too flat to be heels, and it was too heavy to be a woman. It sounded like thudding than clicking. Then the door opens, and I see brown oxfords. I know those oxfords. They've been in my flat before.

I get up from my spot, accidentally hitting my head on the edge of the table. Hard.

"Shit, Y/N. Are you okay?" Descamps sprints over to me, hands cupping my head and inspecting the hit area.

"It's Pardine to you, Descamps. And no, do I look okay?" I push his hands away, fixing my hair and dress. I look up at him, and he's already looking at me.

"What now?" I groan, crossing my arms. Descamps raises his brows, crossing his arms, too.

"You think you're the only one who wants to get the film?" He bends down to reach my height. I flush at the proximity.

"I certainly was here first."

"Well, too fucking bad, because I have it now." He snatches the film of the table. I grunt, trying to grab it. He lifts it over his head, stretching his arm. He's smiling. How much I hate that smile.

"Fuck you, Descamps." I push him off, making my way to the door. There's footsteps outside again. I stumble backwards.

"Go, go, go!" I nudge Descamps to the table, planning to get under it again. Our knees push against each other as we try to fit in the small area. A couple of swears and names were silently thrown around but were silenced when the door opened slowly.

I held my breath as Descamps did. I absentmindedly grip his calf, and his hand was gripping mine. In other circumstances, he'd be whispering reassurances in my ear, holding me close with his arms, and kissing my head 'till I calmed down.

This wasn't one of those circumstances.

After a while, there was a snore. I furrow my eyebrows. Snoring? I slowly come out of the nook, not before Descamps pulls me back down and asks me what I'm doing. I shush him, going back up slowly. His hand is still gripping mine. It feels the same as it did all those other times.

I make it to the edge of the table, and across the room, one of the janitors was sitting on a class chair, snoring the afternoon away.

I sigh in relief, coming back down to Descamps. He raises his brows at me.

"So?"

"He's dead asleep."

"Do we stay here 'till he leaves?" I think about it for a moment.

"I guess. It'd be too risky to leave. The door's too loud."

"Fuck. I guess I'm stuck here with you." He rolls his eye. The audacity.

"Hey, I'm not the one talking shit about my friend." He scowls at me.

"Well, I'm not the one who's fucking assuming."

We argue whisper shouting.

"I saw you! And I heard you!"

"You don't know why I was saying that!"

"I know exactly why! You hate me!" That makes him shut up.

"What?"

"You hate me, Descamps."

"Why would you even think that?" There's a tone I can't tell. Like he's hurt, or in disbelief, or in denial.

"Because you're-" He cuts me off.

"Why would I ever hate you?" He squints at me a bit, voice wavering.

"You-" He cuts me off again.

"I could never hate you." Tears brim my eyes at his words. I look at him quietly.

"Stop lying, Descamps." My voice breaks.

"I-" He sighs, looking down at his lap.

I sniffle, wiping my nose. I turn around, back against his clamped legs. And he stays still. We've done this before. Except my back was against his chest, and he was combing my hair with his fingers.

"And Annick." I feel him tense.

"What about her?" I scoff in disbelief.

"You're doing this for her, right?" I turn my head, not really looking at him.

"What? Oh, no, of course not. I was here because Pichon told me, or really I made him tell me that you-" His voice gets cut off and I furrow my eyebrows in confusion.

"That I what?" I urge him to continue. Incoherent noises come from the back of his throat, stuttering against his teeth. He sighs, wiping his palms on the cloth of his knees.

"That you were coming here." It comes out as a mumble, and I almost didn't hear it from the way my heart was thumping and blocking my hearing.

"Why would you care?" There's a pause again, and it's suffocating.

"So that I'll know how easy it'll be to get it before you do." I snap my head forward, looking at the blank wood of the table.

A few seconds pass by. I hear his voice again.

"What about you? Why do you want an hour with Annick?" I keep my head straight this time while talking.

"I need to keep up with her." I shrug simply.

"Why? You're already doing so well in class." I flush at the compliment, but shake my head.

"Well, I could do better." I sigh deeply, seemingly annoyed at the question. I still want him talking to me, though.

"I mean, sure, but isn't it draining?" My hearing blurs for a second at the question.

"Of course it is." I keep my answer plain, but my voice breaks. I hear his heavy breathing.

"You know that I know how much you study. Even if we're... not so close as we were before, I still think you should take a break."

A memory comes to mind. I lean over my books on my bed, writing notes on the pages. Feet thumping against wood floors doesn't break my focus, but a hand caressing my back does. I still remembered the way he whispered against my ear, telling me to take a break. The way he cupped my hand to stop it from writing. The way that the bed dipped as he sat down and wrapped his arms around my waist. How much I missed those nights.

"You know, I used to fake studying so you could come close." I blurt out, not caring what I say anymore.

He doesn't respond immediately. "Yeah?" I hum in response.

"I used to make every excuse to come close." I shiver at the confession, wishing I could turn back time to every moment he came close and held me.

"It's too bad you're an asshole." He chuckles.

"Really is too bad."

I guess that was where the conversation ended, though I'm not sure, but after a while, we hear the janitor get up and leave. I slowly come out of the hiding spot, dusting my dress again.

Before I leave the room, a hand grabs my wrist. I don't turn around, but suddenly, my hands clasp a rectangular object. Descamps drops my hand and leaves.

When the door closes, I just stare at it. Then, I raise my hand. The film was in it.

××《☆》××

I walk with Pichon to the alley, watching familiar faces look at us. I avoid Descamps' gaze, focusing on Michèle and smiling at her.

"There they are!" One of them calls out.

"So?"

"We've got them." Pichon answers, dropping the bag. I hand the film to Annick, leaning into her ear.

"Descamps did it. Give him the hour." I purse my lips, then walk away from her. She turns her head to Descamps, and I'm too scared to see if she looks at him the way I used to. Well, really, I still do.

I walk to Michèle, smiling at her. Then I look at Applebaum.

He hasn't changed much, and when he catches me staring, he turns as red as his name and looks away. I laugh a little, then start to feel bad about the fact that Descamps had threatened him. I'll talk to him about it later.

We all lean and look at Pichon as he opens the pouch, frogs hopping out of it. I yelp, trying to get away from them.

"It only took five minutes?" Dupin asks.

"He's smarter than all of you." Laubrac answers.

"Can't wait to see Herman's face."

They start to grab the frogs and chase each other with it. Dupin lifts it up to my face, and I yelp, running away.

Strong arms lift me off the ground, the familiar scent of cigarettes and expensive cologne fill my senses.

"Come on, go chase Felbec or something. Not her." Dupin nods and runs elsewhere.

He gently places me on the ground again, cupping my face.

"You okay?" He whispers. I nod.

"Don't talk to Applebaum. I saw you looking at him. I know you know that I threatened him, it's only because he's a fucking weirdo and you know it. Please." He reads me too well. I nod again.

"Thanks. Now go home." He pulls his hands away, grabbing another cigarette.

I stumble backwards, walking away fully.

Almost halfway home, I remember leaving something. It was a tie I accidentally dropped when Descamps lifted me off the ground. It was pretty special, so I went back for it.

Turning to the now golden lit alley, my feet stutter to a stop when I see Descamps against the wall, some girl from school splayed over him, her hand on his chest and lips close to his.

The garbage rattles and their heads turn to me. I make a run for it, leaving the tie to be forgotten.

I should've known. He never loved me. He always hated me. Since when were they even hanging out? What if they were together the whole time? I gag at the thought.

I hate him. I hate him so much. But I don't.

Fuck, this hurts.

××《☆》××

End- Chapter six: Mischief Managed

Next- Chapter seven: Salvatore

××《☆》××

So that took SUCH A LONG TIME. Um very angsty good or very angsty bad? Idk if I spell checked or grammar checked this well, so if u see smth, dm me PLS

Also for the F1 fans, ik im late w news, but 1-2 ferrari, carlos pole after appendix got removed, ferrari and mclaren top 4 domination, hamilton and verstappen dnf, george flipping over on the middle of the track, and fernando alonso getting p1 for a few minutes. Austrailia GP will always be wild.

HAPPY READING!!! 6/10 CHAPTERS DONE