#Reader is a parental figure | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

assmaster-8000 · 8 months

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no because what if gojo satoru had found another special grade child. a child whom the jujutsu higher-ups wanted satoru to mentor because they'd be a useful trump card to the jujutsu society so naturally they'd want this child's talent to be honed till they potentially surpass satoru and be used. but satoru had seen too much of what this world had done to the person he'd love the most and he wouldn't ever be the one to subject another person to it like a tool. like a weapon. like a machine. so of course he takes them under his wing and gives them the guidance he never had, suguru never had. a 20 year old prodigy fresh with wounds of loss and grief taking in a child with greatness sitting on their head like a heavy crown cutting into their skin underneath his cape of power and blood stains. satoru is an enigma and even he himself doesn't know if it's because he wants to mold more strong jujutsu sorcerers who will change this world (because what greater irony than the child you wanted to utilize like a cold knife being the one to bring reform right to your door?), or if he wants to give them everything everyone else didn't have (please, he can't have someone follow in suguru's footsteps.), or if being number 1 was too tiring for him (but he doesn't know if it's selfish bringing them up to this blinding spotlight.)

years pass and he vehemently denies the higher ups control over his protégé, his student, his brat. he'll give them control and the means to break out of the shackles of this damned hierarchy. and even if satoru cannot outwardly say it, they're his child. as though he was there at their birth and has been ever since. his child and his best friend and he's their father and their best friend. it's either he sees too much of himself in them or too much of suguru because they're rising to the top fast and he's proud of them and so full of dangerous hope their wings aren't made of wax. (but he'll be there to catch them if they'll ever fall, of course!) they're so strong now. if he was blessed by the heavens and the earth then perhaps they were born of it because look at them go! giving the great gojo satoru a run for his money! not everyone can do that, you know? they're such a great student and person! isn't he such a great mentor?!

so he decides to have faith in them. bring them along with him to shibuya to deal with those reports of special grade curses he was being told about. this is how your teacher deals with these curses! better watch closely because you'll probably have to do it too! he has them positioned on the sidelines to ensure the civilians aren't hurt and if anything, to aid him because they're gonna be the strongest some day too so they can't be lazing a round on their ass all the time.

and they're doing so well until kenjaku comes along. satoru's breath stops and his heart rattles against the prison bars of his ribcage but it isn't the stupor of seeing his lost love that doomed him to the box. his special grade student lurches to -- what, attack kenjaku? pull satoru away? run? it didn't matter what. it was all a blur -- wards him and his body moves on an instinct that's even stronger that the compass needle pointing to suguru's body.

no, no.. that isn't suguru. it's his body and that's not him. somethings not right. but his student is right infront of him and that's them and he can't let anything bad happen to them now. flexing infront of his student can be saved for another day. but it's this mistake that ends up setting him right into kenjaku's trap and the box. the moment his gaze snaps to them and his body is torn between suguru infront of him and them kenjaku sees an opportunity and snaps it up like it's golden.

satoru doesn't even get the mere moment of chained freedom before he's fully trapped in the box. with the special grade student there, kenjaku needs to make it quick. make it count. he does. satoru is pulled into the box and satoru can't even say anything to his student. and he worries in his infinitesimal prison. satoru never usually worries unless if it's his leftovers have gone bad in the fridge.

they'll be alright.

they'll be alright, won't they?

they're strong.

they're capable.

they're smart.

he's raised them well they'll be okay they've got friends.

they'll do the right thing.

...

and when satoru finally exits the box he's sees faces changed. they tell him a lot about what they've been through, about what has changed since he's been gone, what changed about them.

he sees yuuji has been weathered with pain and a unique sense of hope.

he sees megumi has been puppeted with the strings of despair by sukuna.

he sees maki has faced the fiery trials and tribulations of this cruel world and bears it like her trophy.

he sees...

he sees nothing of his student. his special student. where are they? injured? somewhere off in the game? will they be back soon? time's a-running out, you know.

he sees the looks his students exchange and his heart drops. he knows. he knows. he knows what must've happened.

they're dead, aren't they?

and he's brought back to the time he carried riko's dead body in his arms and he was met with the disappearing suguru in the crowd and suguru slumped against the wall.

it's happened again.

they tell him they were a hero. that in satoru's absence, they did the heavy lifting and protected shibuya from the full-on destruction it would've suffered if not for them. that if not for them, the jujutsu world would've been left in even deeper disrepair. they saved some of their fellow sorcerers from certain death and suffering! they were the one to grapple with sukuna when he let all havoc ravage the city.

they paid with their life.

all because they were too worried about getting these normal civilians back home safe. about keeping their friends and mentors safe. and satoru wonders if there was someone else worrying about keeping them safe.

... atleast he didn't have to worry about them following in suguru's footsteps and the hatred of regular civilians. they were good of heart and soul. they were strong.

they did the right thing.

and satoru has a hard time wrapping his head around the fact that the person he's raised for, what, 10 years? is dead. gone. deceased. that's just preposterous! he was there when they were a snobby little kid and he was there when they were going through that awkward phase and he was there when they were learning more and more as a teenager and where are they now?

sukuna asks him that. "where's that miniature personification of yours? hah, don't tell me they died the last i saw them. have the special grades of this era started to slack off?"

satoru has all the more reason to kill sukuna now. he has to show his students who are watching that he can do it.

even if they will no longer watch him do anything.

#sorry this is really niche and short but like IMAGINE #im sick and tired of teacher satoru and student reader smuts #found family.#teacher satoru who sees so much in this child this prodigy this person who was born to walk the painful path he tred #and he knows he has to give them a better life and a deeper hope #the parentification of gojo satoru #and his deep despair he hides away and his emotional constipation and his jovial front and #he's far from the best parent but god. he's got to try. he needs to try.#the imperfect character of satoru and the grueling nature of parenthood is perfect #why isn't there more familial stories of him and reader #or an oc who has him as a father figure #FOOD FOR THOUGHT. WHY DONT MORE PEOPLE MAKE OCS LIKE THIS #gojou satoru x reader #gojo satoru #jjk spoilers #jjk #jjk gojo #jjk oc #satoru x reader #gojo x reader #gojo x reader platonic #gojo x reader familial #teacher!gojo x student!reader #idk id love to see an oc with a premise like this. they don't have to die they just have to be fucked up beyond repair #that it's almost like a death of their self to satoru. his golden student. his beloved.#jjk oc x character #jujutsu kaisen #oc ideas #sorry if this is ooc im chronically insane #im so sorry this is so badly written in my defense it was 5 am and i could not sleep unless i exterminated this thought

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jack-o-phantom · 2 years

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A small but sweet Rusted Bells & Faded Ribbons, comic

Y/n's got an influence on the kid, and Sunny doesn't seem to mind this time

#theharedraws #rusted bells & faded ribbons #rbfr comic #rbfr sundrop #rbfr robin #rbfr y/n #post apocalypse au #fav #fnaf sb au #daycare attendant fnaf #sundrop x reader #Y/n is gonna teach this kid so so much violence #Sun doesn't agree on y/n's methods #haha bonding through being parent figures

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kurooo-is-here · 4 months

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Hi, I like your stories you've got going on with the toothpaste man over here (he's so goofy lol). Could you write Drayton x Reader? The reader had Drayden as a mentor at one point and then Drayden comes to the Blueberry Academy for a surprise visit (and poor Drayton gets the shock of his life after that reveal lol)

Omgomg you have no idea how much I love this prompt, Drayton's past is something that got me so curious to write about him <3

Drayden pays you a surprise visit (Drayton x Reader)

Drayden was like a father to you. A strict one, but still a father figure. He almost never mentioned his grandson unless you caught him discussing with someone else. Every time he did mention Drayton, it wasn't... super positive. Before you even met Drayton, you felt bad for him. Constantly overshadowed by his cousin Iris, not to mention bearing the weight of his own grandfather's legacy.

Drayden taught you many things. He taught you how to battle, how to physically defend yourself-- he made you stronger. He was strict, brutally honest, and to the point. So when you met Drayton at BBA, you were shocked to learn they were related. Like, you saw the physical resemblance, but Drayton was practically the opposite of his grandfather personality-wise.

...Somehow, you fell for Drayton. His easygoing personality and sunny smile greeted you every day, and your heart fluttered every time he waved at you. He was nothing like his grandfather, but that's why you loved him. He was a breath of fresh air from all of the training you had endured back in Opelucid City.

Drayden paid you a surprise visit one day. Not for his grandson, but his student... You immediately knew things were gonna be awkward when Drayden walked into the clubroom. Drayton instantly stiffened and his smile dropped. He waited as his grandfather approached him.

"Hello, grandson." was all Drayden said, along with a nod of acknowledgement. He didn't even say his grandson's name. Drayton didn't say anything back. He just sat there in silence-- his expression was unreadable.

Drayden continued his school tour with you, but you couldn't help feeling awful for Drayton. You had left him in the clubroom with the other Elite Four members, so you trusted he wouldn't do anything rash-- but you wanted so badly to go back in there and comfort him.

After your tour with Drayden, along with Drayden's usual reminders about training and getting good grades, you rushed back to the clubroom to see Drayton. But he wasn't in the room.

Lacey informed you that Drayton seemed really down and told them he was gonna go chill at his base in the polar biome in the Terarium, so you called the nearest flying taxi and bolted straight there.

Drayton was sitting near the top of a snowy mountain with his Archaludon when you finally found him. His Archaludon was a little defensive at first, but Drayton told it to ease up a little, so it cleared the way to let you come closer.

You basically tackled him in a hug, which caught him off guard to say the least.

"W-Whoa, what's all this about?" He said, chuckling lightly.

You just stared at him. "You know what this is about."

Drayton sighed. "Okay, okay, you got me. I um... I wasn't exactly happy to see my grandfather." He replied. "He's... not the parental figure I wished I had in my life."

You listened as he rambled about his past. Drayton knew he was strong thanks to his family teaching him so much, but the constant fear of disappointment nearly broke him. He preferred to stay at school, where his friends were, and where he was strong in his own right. He felt safer at school than at home, to be honest.

When he was done speaking, he just sat there next to you. He looked so mentally tired.

"Do you think I'll ever be as good as him?" Drayton asked quietly.

You looked at him. He had been avoiding your gaze, but he finally looked at you too.

"You don't have to be, Drayton. I'll stay by your side, no matter what."

Just then, he kissed you, as if he had been waiting to hear you say those words. You leaned into the kiss-- it was sweet and firm. When he pulled away, he was smiling again.

"Y/N," He said, finally standing up. "Thank you. I love you so much, you know that?"

You stood up as well, grabbing his hand gently. His hand was warm, despite the white snow surrounding you two.

"Love you too, dragon boy." You replied. "Come on, the others are waiting on us. Let's go."

#pokemon #pokemon scarlet and violet #pokemon drayton #pokemon drayton x reader #drayden is a bad parental figure smh #last one before i probably go to sleep #maybe #i don't know LOL #kuro writes

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bones-of-a-rabbit · 2 years

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Readerbot is accidentally forced into adopting a child they won in a lottery (pls don’t ask I can’t explain wtf my friends are on when we’re streaming in the discord): a tale in three parts

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elliesmainhoe · 1 year

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Goodnight, Mom

HBO ELLIE WILLIAMS X MotherFigure!Reader

This character is under 18 so the relationship is PLATONIC

Summary: After you help her down from a panic attack, Ellie calls you Mom for the first time.

Contents: mentions of David, trauma response, Ellie isolates herself, Night terror, Panic attack, Panic attack comfort.

A/N: I re-watched the last of us, and omg I need to comfort this bby so bad.

Ellie was such a ray of sunshine, so funny, so fiesty, so sweet. But ever since what happened with David, she just wasn't herself. She was quiet, reclusive and she never left her room, you went upstairs with a tray of food three times a day and left it outside her door, only returning an hour later to see it half eaten and abandoned in the same place you left it.

You missed her. You missed your walking boost of serotonin. Joel, Tess and you had been given her by the fireflies, you were all friends aswell as coworkers, well Joel and Tess had a little fling going on- but to each their own. She was so cute when you first met eachother, her little pocket knife and her messy brown hair.

And ever since you were assigned her as 'cargo', you hadn't been the same. The 14 year old immediately took a liking to you, and you to her. She stuck by your side through everything, you were practically attached by the hip.

She was with you when Tess died, when you tried to find Bill and Frank, when you met Henry and Sam, and when Joel told you he would no longer be coming with you. Ellie was your shadow, always lurking around watching you, smiling in admiration when you killed some infected in a particularly impressive way.

And that's why, after David, you couldn't bring yourself to deliver Ellie to the fireflies. You weren't stupid, you had a degree in biology for fucks sake, you knew- deep down that Ellie wouldn't make it out of that operating room. You knew she would want the truth and so you told her the truth.

Sitting in an old rusted car, driving down an abandoned highway back to Jackson you told her. She was conflicted- her life? For the world's? She was inclined to say yes. However, once you reminded her of the reality- it was unlikely it would work, and if it did it would be used as a political weapon against Fedra, and probably wouldn't see another person after its initial creation.

Once you made it back to Wyoming, you both settled down. Maria gifted you an old run down house to take on as your own.

When Ellie isolated herself in her room, you knew you had to leave her to it. She went through a traumatic experience and she deserved the time by herself to heal, no matter how much you were worried about her.

So, to take your mind of it, you went on patrols and found paint, old books, decorations and lights to try and make the house a home, and you think that you did that successfully. You painted the kitchen cabinets, reupholstered all the stools and couches. Added string lights in the living room and your bedroom to make it more cozy, and added potted plants around the house to bring the outside in.

After about 2 weeks the only room left to decorate was Ellie's. You had a large can of pale blue paint, and had collected a lot of posters of 70s-80s bands she had info-dumped about a while back.

It was night time, 10pm to be exact and you were exhausted- you did your usual routine, applying a moisturizer on your face and brushing your teeth before heading towards Ellie's door.

A small crack of warm light came out from underneath the wooden paneled door. Your first knocked onto the wood,

"you alright in there sweetheart?" you spoke softly, earning just a hum in response. "Well I'm going to sleep now- if you need anything don't be afraid just come wake me up"

"night y/n" Ellie's voice spoke quietly from the other side, if your ear wasn't pressed up against the panels you wouldn't of heard it. "Goodnight Ellie."

••••••••

At first the sound of Ellie's screams were no surprise, you often heard her sobbing, begging and pleading in your dreams, but this one was different it was clearer than usual.

Eyes flittering open and reaching over to your bed side table, you flicked on the reading lamp and blinked as your eyes adjusted to the warm golden light the bulb emitted. It did not take long for you to realize that the cries were very much real, and very much coming from Ellie's room across the hall.

Before you could even comprehend what you were doing, you scrambled out of bed and across the landing, swinging open the oak door that lead into the teenagers room. You hurried over to her bedside, turning on the table lamp so you could see Ellie fully.

Her body was writhing, her hands clawing at her own skin subconsciously. Her eyes remained closed, she was still asleep. Shit. First things first, let's make sure she doesn't hurt herself. You took her hands in yours, ever so softly, stroking your thumb against her palms reassuringly. You began speaking to her, trying to rouse her from her sleep as she began to fight against you.

"Baby- Ellie, it's just me Babygirl" you said, louder than you usually would. "You gotta wake up for my sweetheart."

After about a minute her eyes opened slowly- however there was a deep-rooted anger in them at first, for a split second she thought that you were him. She went to push you off of her.

"Sweetheart- sweetheart, it's just me Babygirl, it's just me." You comforted. Ellie's eyes softened, her angry screaming turning into words made incoherent by her relentless sobbing. You took a seat next to her on the single bed mattress, allowing Ellie's arms to wrap securely around your waist.

Her chest heaved- breathing quick and unsteadily. "5 things you can see, you know the drill" you told her, hands tangling into the brunette hair that laid in your lap.

"I can see... You, my sketches on the wall, my pencils, the moon out of my window and my comic book." She trembled through shaky breaths.

"Good Girl. Now, four things you can feel?"

"my bed sheets, your t-shirt, your hand in my hair and the socks on my feet." She spoke calmer this time, but the sniffles and occasional sob still left her lips.

"Well done sweetheart, three things you can hear."

"The clock ticking, your breathing, and my sniffles"

"Mhm.. and two things you can smell?"

"Your new soap and the smell of freshly clean laundry"

"And lastly, one thing you can taste"

"My toothpaste" she says, her breathing had now slowed and her sobs turned into the occasional sniffle.

"Well done Ellie, in so proud of you" you hummed, you pecked her forehead lightly- and grinned when you saw the hint of a smile grace her face.

"Can you stay with me till I fall asleep?" She whispered, looking up at you. "Course I can." you replied before shuffling onto the bed in a comfier position.

Ellie's face, still damp from tears buried itself in the crook of your neck, arms wrapping around you like her life depended on it.

"Goodnight Ellie".

"Goodnight Mom".

--------------

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punkeropercyjackson · 7 hours

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Hobie Brown is so,so,SO book!Percy Jackson-coded

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moiravim · 1 year

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Forevermore

Dad Loki x child/teen yn (gender neutral)

Uncle Thor x teen yn

Just a bunch of fluff <3

Loki had met you on his first trip to Midgard. Although you were just a child, you were working with the avengers. You had powers that could let you heal people, so you worked with the other doctors in the medical wing.

Even though you spent all your time helping them, none of them cared for you like a parent would.

That was until Loki came. It was obvious to everyone that he had a soft spot for you. He watched over you and became the father figure you didn't have.

As soon as he got the chance, he adopted you and took you to Asgard. The two of you live together in the castle.

He'd help you learn lessons and how to control your magic. He made sure you felt like you belonged.

Loki is extremely overprotective of you. If anyone talked bad about you, He'd start yelling at them. No one is going to get away with hurting his child.

The two of you are inseparable. He makes sure you know how much he loves and cares for you.

His love language is quality time with you. If he could he'd spend every single second of his life next to you. Although Loki doesn't often show his love through touch, he holds your hand frequently.

By the time you were a teen, Ragnarok was starting and Loki took you to Midgard. Even if you argue that you can help, he refuses to let you. "I just don't want you to get hurt" he defends himself.

So the two of you go to Midgard anastay in a small apartment Thor had bought. The avengers didn't fully trust Loki yet, so they refused to let him stay in the compound.

Loki's schedule for the day was: make and eat breakfast, drop yn off at school, go to work, pick yn up, and get dinner.

Although he was annoyed by his new lifestyle, He was happy you both were safe and that you got to spend weekends together.

When Thor got back, you all moved to "new Asgard" and lived in a nice house together. Thor was delighted by the fact he was an uncle and treated you like his own child.

He'd take you out for ice cream, would introduce you to all his friends, and would teach you how to play video games.

When Thor was reunited with Jane, you had offered to use your powers on her. After a while of their begging her, she agreed.

After healing her, you were very exhausted and slept for a week while Loki and Thor took care of you as if you really were royalty. To them you were.

The four of you finally got your happy ending as a normal family. Thor and Jane now had each other, and you knew you'd always have Loki.

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tinybirbwrites · 1 year

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Losing Control (batfam/reader)

this was part of that one idea i talked about a while ago. it’s unfinished, but i thought i’d share it anyway. small warning for language and mild violence, also attempted sexual assault but it’s not very detailed and doesn’t get very far.

tried keeping reader genderneutral, not sure if i missed anything.

hope you enjoy reading!

____________

The first time it happened, I got angry during training.

Sparring with anyone from the batfamily would rarely lead to a victorious outcome—they were too experienced, too talented, too ambitious. I didn't expect to win, but a tie would be nice. And yet, I always ended up on the ground, or trapped in someone's hold. I rarely landed a hit myself, and barely managed to dodge.

It was frustrating, and more often than not, I found myself getting angry at the guys for never giving me a chance, but mostly at myself for being so weak.

But never had I blacked out like this before.

One moment I was on the ground, pressed down by Jason's weight, the next I was standing upright and staring down at him, his chest beneath my foot. He was frantically tapping my leg, and I realized that I was pressing down on his ribs hard enough to break them.

I immediately stumbled backwards and sat down, trying to recall what had happened, while Jason groaned and sat up. He didn't seem hurt, thankfully, just out of breath and surprised.

“Well,” he said, “that one was new.”

We didn't get to talk about what happened afterwards.

It was getting late and I was on my way home when it happened again. I remember being followed and touched by three tall guys, terrified to the point of being unable to move, to defend myself.

Next thing I knew, all three men were on the ground, knocked out with broken noses, covered in strange bite marks and scratches. I called the police and went home, scared and confused.

The third time it happened, Damian was yelling at me because I had made a mistake. It was on patrol, and I usually stayed back so I wouldn't get in the way, but Dick had told me I should get involved more, otherwise I wouldn’t be able to learn anything new. But of course I had made a mistake, and Damian thought it necessary to burn it into my brain.

I loved Damian, but I hated being yelled at. The anger came easily, and next time I opened my eyes, I was being held against the wall by Bruce himself.

“Calm down,” he said. He was using the Batman Voice, sending chills down my spine and making me go limp immediately, scared of having made him angry, and scared of what I had done this time. Was Damian okay?

Luckily, Damian was unharmed, but he looked a bit pale and kept staring at me with wide eyes.

I told Bruce about my blackouts that night, so he took me back to the cave to run some tests.

“The causes are high surges of adrenaline,” Bruce stated calmly, “In other words; anger, or strong fear.”

“So I'm the Hulk now?” I scoffed, but it just turned into an exhausted sigh. Bruce had taken some of my blood and insisted on doing the tests now instead of waiting until tomorrow. I was about ready to pass out.

“I want to see the effects up close in a safe environment. Only that way will I be able to tell what's happening to your body.” Bruce was already walking towards a platform with a big cell made out of see-through, bulletproof glass.

“Can this wait until tomorrow? Please?” He stopped and looked back at me with a frown. “I know this is important, but I really need some sleep, and I don't even know if I can make it happen on command.”

He considered me for a long moment, making me squirm under his piercing gaze, before he finally nodded. “Go.”

“Damian?” I whispered, lightly knocking on his door. He had been sent away to bed early, leaving before I could apologize for what had happened. “Are you awake?”

The door unlocked, so I slowly opened it. Damian was already back on his bed, lying down with his back leaning against the headrest, arms crossed. He avoided my gaze, stubbornly staring at his feet instead.

I closed the door and leaned against it for a moment, unsure where I stood with him right now. Was he angry? Upset? Scared?

“Damian,” I started cautiously, “I'm sorry. I don't know exactly what happened, but I'm sorry. I didn't mean to scare you.”

“Wasn't scared,” he mumbled.

I couldn't help but smile. “Okay. But it's alright to be scared, you know that, right?”

He just gave a grunt.

“You also know I love you, yes? And that I'd never want to hurt you?”

He pulled his legs closer to his chest, turning his head away more. I could see his embarrassed pout before he could hide it.

“Damian?” I pushed gently. He let out a breath through his nose and mumbled something incoherent.

I slowly sat down on his bed near his feet. “What did you say? I didn't catch that.”

“I said,” he sighed, talking louder and more clearly, but still not looking at me, “that it's me who keeps hurting you. I knew that, but I didn't really see how much I hurt you until earlier today.”

He looked at me then, eyes full of shame, “I do not understand how you can still care about me.”

I was taken aback by his genuine words, as I was so used to his harsh shell. He rarely showed any softness or openness to anyone, aside maybe from Richard. I lifted a hand to gently cup his cheek, and he leaned into my touch like a cat.

“You're complicated to get along with, I'll give you that,” I said, “But I can see your heart, Damian. And I want to keep it safe. I know you don't always mean what you say, and no matter how much some things hurt, I will always care about you.”

He frowned, giving a thoughtful hum. “So you're just going to take the beating?”

I sighed. “Well, I don't want to, but what am I supposed to do? Yell at you? Besides, you don't always want me getting all emotional like right now. If I don't want to lose you, I'll just have to roll with the punches and deal with it and not take it personally.”

Damian gave a huff, then started shuffling around and pulling at my arm until I was lying down with him, letting him curl up in my arms and press his face against my collarbone.

“I will… try… to be less… harsh,” he muttered into my shirt. “I... don't want to lose you, either.”

“High adrenaline surge caused by anger is the initial trigger. It seems a part of their brain falls asleep, but the rest stays active, controlled by an unknown force that has yet to be understood. Physical changes are getting more apparent the longer they stay in that state. Increased length and sharpness of teeth, especially the canines. Aggressive behavior, borderline animalistic. No usage of vocabulary, only hissing, growling and snarling. The skin on both hands and arms starts turning dark black after one minute, and after three, the same happens to the eye whites, gums and tongue. It’s like tar slowly seeping out from every pore, covering what’s underneath.”

Bruce's notes were highly concerning, to say the least. He had kept a close eye on me the whole week, until, inevitably, I got angry during training yet again. He put me inside the cell and observed for twenty minutes, before getting me to calm down.

‘Getting me to calm down’ meant he sent Dick to make cooing noises at me until he got close enough to give me a hug. Miraculously, it worked wonders.

“You guys want me to listen to ASMR the whole day? So I won't get angry anymore? You do know that's not how it works, right?”

Bruce had invented a device that could comfortably be worn on my person, monitoring my vitals and sending a distress signal to the closest member of the batfamily in case my adrenaline got to critical levels again. Meanwhile, the boys had apparently unanimously agreed on a strategy on how to keep me calm, meaning they had put together a playlist with ASMR and calming ambience videos for me to listen to whenever I could feel my blood pressure starting to rise.

It was really sweet, but whether it was actually going to work was a whole nother question entirely.

“Don’t knock it till you try it,” Jason shrugged, then grimaced at his own words. “Fuck’s sake, I sound like Alfred.”

Dick and I were on an undercover mission. It was a small one, just for one night, in which we'd have to do our best to get some information out of Subject A, a thirty year old rich woman in a red dress and big red hat, and Subject B, the owner of a big company and the husband of Subject A.

Both were insufferable, absolutely the worst. Dick was a natural at being charming and disarming, so he had no problems with talking to either subject, though I could tell by the way he would clench his jaw whenever he smiled that he was just as annoyed as I was.

Me, on the other hand, could not stand another minute in the same room as either of those two. So I told Dick I would be getting some fresh air.

And because I had the best luck in the world, some lonely rich guy followed me outside and kept talking to me, and kept creeping closer to me until he was fully in my personal bubble, completely unprompted.

“Oh, you look cold,” he said, and because apparently he thought he had the right to touch me, wrapped an arm around my waist to press me closer to his side, “Maybe we should go back inside? Or maybe I could bring you home, hmm? You seem lonely, like me.”

Everything about this guy was creeping me out. He smelled so heavily of cologne that I wanted to gag, and he kept breathing into my face.

“I would very much like to be alone, to be honest,” I pressed out between clenched teeth, already feeling the familiar pounding in my head. “I did not give you any permission to touch me like this, so please, kindly back off, sir—now.”

He was murmuring something about reading my body language and subtext and getting clear signals of sexual interest, but I could hardly even hear him anymore over the pounding in my ears, my vision already fading more and more into black, as my adrenaline started to rise.

Then, suddenly, the man was being pulled away. Then I was being maneuvered to a more secluded part of the outside area, somewhere out of sight, and Dick was standing in front of me. He was holding me by the shoulders, gently squeezing and closely watching my eyes.

He was saying something, but I couldn't hear him. I could feel my teeth sharpen, a growl rising from my throat, hands clenching and nails slowly growing into claws.

I wanted to find that disgusting piece of shit and rip his eyes out. I wanted to cut off his prick and feed it to him until he would choke to death—

Then Dick was holding my face with both hands, leaning closer until our noses were almost touching. I could hear him now, gently shushing me like a parent would to calm their crying baby. His familiar scent surrounded me, filling my senses, calming me. I relaxed a little. My anger was not directed at Dick. I knew I was safe with him.

Then he let go of me to search his pockets, quickly pulling out his phone and putting his earbuds in my ears. A few seconds later, the sounds of rain droned out the rising violence in my mind, making the back of my head tingle and the hot anger boiling in my chest die down until my physical transformation went away as well.

I sagged against Dick's chest, feeling tired all of a sudden. I waited a little longer, relinquishing the feel of relief and calm washing over me, while Dick wrapped his arms around me to stroke one hand over my back, the other holding me closer to his chest by my neck.

Eventually, I pulled the earbuds out and gave them back to him. I sighed, “I hate that I'm a ticking time bomb. You can't always be there to make sure I don't go off.”

“I don’t mind,” Dick said, helping me stand up. “That’s what family’s for, right? We got your back. With B’s device, there will always be someone there to help you out. If not, you can always call, no matter what time it is or where you are. If all else fails, you know what to do to help yourself.”

I let myself lean against him for a few moments longer, enjoying the comfort he brought, before straightening myself up with a sigh. “Thanks, Dick. I guess… let’s finish up here, huh?”

He grinned. “That’s the spirit!”

#batfam x reader #batfamily x reader #reader insert #x reader #dick grayson x reader #damian wayne x reader #jason todd x reader #its all kept platonic/familial #especially the relationship between damian and reader #i love when reader acts as a parental figure towards damian #its very sweet #monster reader #genderneutral reader

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chiliechicken · 1 month

Text

Shota A.┊⇢ ˗ˏˋ take your child to work ࿐ྂ

Dadzawa x GN!Reader, Platonic STRICTLY platonic, Fluff, OOC, Reader can be adopted or biological

It was a particularly stormy day here in Musutafu but classes continued anyway, much to everyone's dismay. Though, not yours. You got to skip classes today because your father decided to take you with him to work, which was basically just moving you to his classroom for the day, doing nothing.

You were sat beside him in his desk at the front while his students did their activities quietly. Your father was carefully surveying the room and watched each and every one of his students, making sure everyone was well-behaved. You were silently drawing on a piece of paper when he noticed you. "What are you drawing there?" Shota asked in a whisper, turning to face you.

You held up your paper and showed him a... Uh? No wait, what even is that? You showed him a picture of a fat cat with sticks for limbs. The whiskers were too long and—why did you give it bumblebee wings? It was basically a doodle of a cat-bee hybrid.

Shota stared at it for a moment, inspecting the drawing with a confused yet astonished expression. "Why... What is this?" He asked you. You shook your paper in his face with an irritated face, as if telling him 'it's as clear as day'. He looked back at you and set down the paper, "Artistic. Amazing. Picasso." He sarcastically commented before going back to grading his students' papers. You huffed and continued drawing on your paper, adding little details to the doodles you made.

After a while, you yawned, becoming groggy at the boring atmosphere. Shota noticed this and flicked your forehead, snapping you awake. "You can't sleep yet, it's still early in the morning." You groaned at his statement, rubbing your forehead. You stuck you're tongue out at him and Shota rolled his eyes, "That's what you get for staying up late playing Roblox."

You gasped, as if offended. You? Playing Roblox? You would never..! (-admit it to anyone's face.)

You crossed your arms and looked away with a pout. Shota stared at you before letting out a chuckle, causing some of the class to look up in curiosity. You soon felt a smile creeping up on your face and before you know it, you were struggling to keep your laugh in as well.

You looked at him with a dumb smile, responding with, "At least I don't play Candy Crush—" before bursting out into laughter. Shota tried to hush you while trying to keep his laughs quiet, "I don't play that game, shut it!"

The class was staring at the both of you with either amused grins or confused looks.

⋆·˚ ༘ *┊Meow meow meow

#dadzawa #x child reader #xreader #x reader #platonic #fluff #mha x you #mha #mha x reader #gn reader #i need that emotional connection and stability with my parents or any parental figure

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twisted-dork · 9 days

Text

Demon Slayer (Yuu)niverse Child au Incorrect quotes #9 Mad Giyuu!Yuu

Part 2 of this https://www.tumblr.com/twisted-dork/740442477955252224/demon-slayer-yuuniverse-child-au-incorrect?source=share

Giyuu!Yuu: Kids. bed, now. I want to talk to your father~

*Giyuu!Yuu slowly turns their head to look at Lilia, smiling but with veins on their forehead*

*Lilia blinks and smiles looking at the kids nervously*No, kids, stay...Please stay

Giyuu!Yuu: Go.

Lilia: Stay.

Giyuu!Yuu: Go!

Lilia: Stay!?~

Giyuu!Yuu: You go!

Lilia: Cain, stay!

Giyuu!Yuu: Now!

Lilia: Abel, don't move!?

*ChildTanjiro!Yuu, ChildSilver, and BabyNezuko!Yuu go and stop looking at their parent's dispute*

* ChildTanjiro!Yuu actually looks nervous not knowing who to listen to, ChildSilver barley awake looking like a lost puppy*

Giyuu!Yuu: You go!

Lilia: Kids, stay!?!

Giyuu!Yuu: Get out of here!

ChildTanjiro!Yuu grabs ChildSilver hand and picks up BabyNezuko!Yuu, while walking away slowly out the door*

*ChildSilver actually crossing with his free hand for his father's wellbeing*sorry papa...

Lilia: Don't leave me!?!

Giyuu!Yuu: You get out of here!?!

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dianneking · 1 year

Note

omg could you do a marilyn x reader? she’s been leaving little flowers and plants in readers room and office as like a secret admirer (she can be a student but if you don’t like that she could be larissa’s assistant) and one day after getting jealous of reader and larissa she tells reader and they confess feelings and fluff

Secret Admirer - Marilyn x ungendered Reader

‘Tis I, your neighborly Angst Fairy! Coming at you with your recommended angst dose (with a happy ending, worry not). As always, I feel like I didn’t do the fluff part much justice, but there might be a second part in the future (not in the works yet though). Also, I added in a very caring, parental figure Larissa because I never had the chance to write her and I wanted to.

Tags: Jealousy, Angst with a happy ending, Misunderstandings, Mutual Pining, Jealous Marilyn, Protective Larissa, Parent Figure Larissa, Mild swearing, Heartbreak, No gender specifications, no use of Y/N.

Wordcount: 6131

Cross-posted on AO3 here!

Secret Admirer - Marilyn x ungendered Reader

“Larissa, it happened again! It happened again!” You tore through the double doors, not bothering to knock, wrapped as you were in your enthusiasm. You employer looked at you from behind her desk, the beginning of a bemused smile pulling at the corners of her mouth. “Oh?” She enquired, “is your secret admirer back at it?” You proudly presented her the bouquet, a small, lovely composition of whites and pinks and greens, bound together by a round of twine. It was sweet, as all of the presents from the mysterious person were. It had been going on for a while: sometimes you would come back to your quarters and find a flower on your doorstep, other times it was a small potted plant on your desk greeting you first thing in the morning. It was sweet. It was romantic. It never failed to bring a smile to your face, no matter how long your day, or how disturbed your dreams had been.

“Still no message on it?”

You shook your head. There never was any clue as to who had been brightening your days as of late: no envelopes, no initials, no declarations of love either. Just flowers, or plants. It could have been anyone in Nevermore, and potentially someone from outside the school as well…there was no way to tell. You had tried to keep watch on your own door, or to change your routine slightly to catch the responsible in the act, but it had never worked. Of course, that only spurred your curiosity more and more. Was it a student? Or a teacher? Or maybe a normie from Jericho? Of course, your favorite fantasy was to imagine it had been your crush all along, that she returned your feelings, and you would catch her sometimes with flowers in her hands, you would both confess to each other and be madly in love happily ever after. After all, the presents were always plants, and who else could leave them if not the resident botanist?

But Marilyn had never given you any reason to believe it was her all along. The few times you had brought up the presents with her, trying to gage her reaction, she had seemed more interested in the plants themselves, explaining excitedly to you what their meaning was in the flower language: “Oh, that’s fern, it stands for fascination! And the scarlet fuchsia here is a declaration of love, and the Zephirantes, or Zephyr flower…” and so on. It was nice to know what those bouquets meant, they always were a sweet message, if Marilyn was to be believed, and if the sender had meant for them to be interpreted as such. Tender love, devotion, shyness were often the themes of their compositions. And yet, as grateful as you were to the mystery person, every time you went in search of Marilyn to interpret the bouquets, you couldn’t help but wish that this would be the time that she would hold you and admit that it had been her all along, that she knew those feelings the flowers spoke of because they had been put together by her careful fingers all this time. Wishful thinking.

“I wish they would just come out and tell me. Or at least put it in writing.” You complained to Larissa’s patient ear, as you often ended up doing as of late, “I mean, what if it is a student? That would be awkward, not to mention illegal!” Your boss had the audacity to chuckle at your distress “You are barely more than a student yourself, darling. Also, do I need to remind you that some of our students have been here for entire decades? They sure would be old enough for your delicate sensibilities.”

“But I don’t want to date a fang! They always need to feed at the most inconvenient of times.”

“Well, you are very much not required to date someone just because they send you flowers, dear. Now, I believe I pay you to help me with my paperwork, and not to pine for some mysterious Casanova.”

“Fine, you win this time! But just because I need this job.”

“And here I was, thinking you only stuck with me because of my charming personality and sensational looks.” Larissa mock-pouted, her laughing eyes giving her away.

“Well, you are quite easy on the eyes as far as bosses go, I’ll have to grant you that…” You waggled your eyebrows up and down, pretending to ogle her. You loved working for principal Weems, she had taken you in right after graduation, when your parents made it perfectly clear that you wouldn’t be welcome back home. She had given you a job, and room and board in Nevermore’s staff quarters, even though you were barely of age; and even more importantly, she had taken up the role of a parent and a mentor to you. She was your mother in all but blood by now, and these past two years working by her side had been amazing. You owed her so much and the easy-going attitude you two had together showed how tight your bond was. Today, she chuckled at your cheekiness, and playfully swatted you and your new bouquet in the direction of the door, from where a timid knock had come.

“Come in! And you, little brat, keep your flirting under control, or we’ll have to have words!” She winked at you, the wide smile on her face and the affection in her voice warming her teasing words.

“Aw boss, you know you love me! Oh, hello there, Marilyn!” You were laughing as well, almost skipping as you went towards the doors, and found yourself face to face – well, almost nose to nose, given your momentum – with none other than the one who occupied most of your thoughts recently. Your smile got even wider, delighted just at her sight, and you couldn’t help but blush at the sudden closeness, taking a weird half-step to the side to avoid completely running her over – not that you would have minded in the least to fall on her, your body pinning her to the ground in an unexpected, but certainly not unwanted position…

Wishful thinking, your brain unhelpfully reminded you.

“Oh…hello there” her smile seemed a bit forced and somewhat pained, as if she had just received a piece of bad news, or discovered an uncomfortable truth, and you felt yourself asking, almost instinctually, “Are you alright?” She seemed almost surprised at the question, and her dazed eyes seemed to find it difficult to focus on your face, studying you with a sort of distracted intensity, as if seeing you for the first time. “I’m fine, thank you. I wanted to speak to principal Weems about something, am I interrupting something?” Her voice rose a bit at this, as if she felt she was imposing on her employer’s time or something. You smiled at her, trying to dispel her worries as much as you could. “Go on! Our glorious principal is all yours, I have apparently overstayed my welcome by giving her too many compliments and have been sent back to my desk.” You flippantly pointed at the general direction of your work station, just outside and to the side of the double oak doors. You were about to exit, and something came to mind, so you turned once more to her, “Hey, are we still on for our movie night later?”

The two of you had bonded over the fact that you were the only two in the staff with a passion for fantasy. For most outcasts, whose lives were already filled with the supernatural, there was little appeal in immersing oneself in a world of magic, where wondrous beings fought against the inevitable forces of evil, guided by prophecies and honor. But Marilyn was a normie, and you had grown up with books as your only friends, and by the time your own powers had manifested, you were already in love with the escapism that a thick novel could hold in its hundreds of pages. When you had discovered this shared passion, you had been quick to propose regular movie nights to her, to show each other’s favorite movies and complain how they were totally not as good as the books. Your chats went on far longer than the movies themselves, and were part of the reason why you found herself falling harder and harder for the older woman; you could listen for hours on end to her enthusiastic rants, drinking in how her warm eyes would sparkle as she gestured wildly.

“Sure.” She answered curtly after a moment of silence, and as you exited the imposing doors, you could swear your heart could be heard through the whole corridor for how wildly it was beating. Even if she felt a bit off, she hadn’t cancelled your little movie date, and that was enough to make you glide giddily through the day’s work.

---

“That has to be the benchmark against which all fantasy movies have to be compared. It’s just such a classic.” Marilyn commented, as the end credits to The Fellowship of the Ring were rolling on the TV in front of you. You were in her quarters, her couch having been unanimously elected as the more comfortable of the two. There had been a bowl of popcorn wedged between you at the start of the movie, but it had found a new home on the coffee table as soon as all the popped kernels had disappeared, allowing you to surreptitiously scoot closer to her, close enough that you could smell the subtle floral scent of her shampoo. Jasmine. Love, purity, and beauty: you had learnt those were some of the meanings associated to the small white flower, as it had been one of the first that had appeared in your bouquets, and one that kept coming back. It had been in today’s botanic present, as well. It was very fitting for her, you thought. She was so beautiful, and when she smiled, her whole face seemed to shine from within with the purest of lights. You had been lying to yourself when you referred to her as your crush, it was way more than that: you were utterly smitten with her, and had been for a while. You tried to focus on what she was saying, trying to engage the passionate side of her that you loved so much.

“I mean, I get it’s a classic, but I can’t help but feel that it would have been much better if we got to see more of Lady Galadriel and her powers. She could have been quite the asset to the Fellowship...and we would have gotten to see more of Cate Blanchett in the movies as well!”

“But it would have made no sense for a queen of elves such as herself to join such a ragtag band of misfits!” Always the nerd, Marilyn couldn’t resist a good tease on one of her favorite fantasy classics, and that made pulling her leg that much more fun: “That’s rubbish! You don’t need for it to make sense for it to be more screen time with a hot elven lady!”

“Oh, come on, she’s not even close to your age! Even in this film, Cate Blanchett was like, what, at the very least ten years older than you are now or something?”

“Oh, let me correct then, a hot older elven lady. And elves don’t really age anyways, am I right?” You elbowed her lightly in the ribs, eliciting a laugh. “Stop it! I’m serious here!” she swatted you playfully on the shoulder, and you noticed that your exchange had brought you closer to each other, and that your knees were basically touching by now. Suddenly the atmosphere felt charged.

“What’s wrong with older women? Age is but a social construct anyways. Who cares if there’s an age gap nowadays? As long as there’s love, age shouldn’t matter.” The electricity in the air felt live on your skin, it felt like a momentous occasion, and suddenly, you weren’t talking about Cate Blanchett anymore. Was that all Marilyn had against giving you a chance? The fact that you were some ten years her younger? In this day and age? Could that be the reason for the secret messages with the flowers – if it was her sending them – , maybe she felt too old to make an overt move?

“How could you even be sure it’s love though? When your experiences in life are so vastly different? A couple of years don’t make that much a difference, but when it’s a decade? Or more? How would you even know?” Marilyn wasn’t looking at you, playing absentmindedly with the armrest of the couch to her side.

“Are you serious? Marilyn, I don’t need a time stamp to know that my feelings are real, no matter the age gap. I might be young, but I am not stupid!”

You turned fully towards her, a leg folded under you, the other left hanging towards the floor. Engrossed in your righteous campaign, you put a hand on her thigh, burning with the unrelenting need to make her see reason. It wasn’t until you noticed that she was gripping spasmodically the armrest, so strongly that her knuckles were white as bone that you realized what you had just said. Fuck.

You removed your hand, but didn’t take what you said back. That you wouldn’t do.

“This…this is purely theoretical, right?” she asked, stumbling on her words, a pleading in her voice that didn’t sit right with you, “You don’t really have feelings for an older woman, do you?” She seemed almost scared at the prospect, not delighted as you might have hoped. This was your chance to back down. You could deflect, and return to your silent pining, for always regretting wasting this one occasion you had. Or you could risk it all, risk throwing away this friendship you had with her, the little moments of joy that made your heart only grow fonder and more restless.

To hell with it. ‘Tis better to have loved and lost, than never have loved at all.

You steered yourself, setting your jaw strong as you prepared to lay your heart bare.

“It’s not theoretical, Marilyn. I am in love with an older woman. In fact, I—”

"But that's just wrong!!" You reeled back, struck almost physically both by her words and by the horror painted on her face as she turned to face you, finally. You thought you could feel your heart ripping within your chest at the way she struggled to put her dismay into words. There went your one chance. What was that about having loved and lost? You couldn't help the tears filling your eyes at her harsh words she chose to reject you. At how venomous they were as they dripped from those lips you had been long dreaming of kissing. Wishful thinking.

Marilyn sat up, bending towards you, a hand finding its way on your arm, her voice almost pleading now, "Please tell me you are joking. You are so young. You have your whole life in front of you…you shouldn't be even thinking about something so…so inappropriate!" Every word was a stab, and then a twisting of the knife. That wasn’t how you had expected her to react to your confession: even when you had tried to steel yourself for a rejection, you had expected sweet, lovely Marilyn – the woman who sang to her plants and cooed encouragement to them, the soft-spoken woman you had fallen in love with – you had expected her to be kind about it. She should have been regretful that she didn’t return your feelings, and her voice should have been gentle as she told you she was sorry, but she only saw you as a friend. You could have dealt with that. You would have accepted it, and told her that your friendship was also important to you and you would not your feelings change what you had.

But this? The horrified disbelief you heard and saw coming from her was worse than any nightmare your mind could have concocted. Nothing could have prepared you for this.

"I…" the words you wanted to say got stuck in the knot that held your throat in a vice. You swallowed thickly, but it didn't change one thing. You staggered to your feet, letting her hand fall limply back on the cushions. You didn’t want to cry in front of her. "I…I think I'll…go" you managed to croak out as you made your way to the door, blinded by the tears. You stumbled against the coffee table, almost falling in your haste to escape. You didn’t even feel the hurt of the hit. The pain radiating from your chest was way stronger.

"No, wait, I'm sorry… I didn't mean to…I-"

But there was no way you could stay and listen to what Marilyn had to say now, after she had just crushed your heart so mercilessly. You let the door slam closed behind you as you ran back towards your rooms, letting tears free to stream down your face, but you came to a halt in front of your doors: you couldn't face your own quarters right now, filled with flowers and lovely plants that you now knew could never come from the one you desperately wanted. So you went just a little further, and you knocked on the door of the one person who you knew you could always count on.

It took less than a minute for Larissa to open, well used to be always on call for school emergencies of any kind. She clearly had been heading for bed, as there was no makeup on her face, her hair was unpinned and falling around her face in waves, and she was wrapped in a tartan dressing gown. Her face fell as she saw you sobbing desperately on her doorstep.

"My darling what happened? Are you hurt?" You threw yourself at her, and she instinctively wrapped you in a hug, petting your hair with one hand and making comforting noises. After a while she ushered you in, and you ended up sitting on her couch, your face still half-hidden in her tartan, your body still wrecked by your heartbreak.

"My darling kid, my precious assistant, What happened to make you so desperate? Weren't you supposed to be watching one of those fantastical movies with Marilyn?"

At her name, your crying doubled in strength. You didn't want to talk about her, you didn't want to even think about her. Of how pain and horror had mixed on her beautiful face when you had confessed your feelings. Of how she had pleaded for you to tell her it wasn’t true, it wasn’t real.

"Did…did you tell her how you feel?" Larissa knew of your feelings for her botany professor. Of how what had started as a silly crush had slowly developed into something more, something deep and meaningful. Something closely resembling love. She had helped you process how you felt, never judgmental, never pushy, but always lending a sympathetic ear to your rambles.

You nodded, unable to stop your sobs as you whispered, "She…she told me what… what I feel is wrong and… inappropriate."

"Oh, sweetheart! I am so, so sorry." She hugged you again, rocking you slightly, like you were but a baby, wailing in its mother's arms. "Love is never wrong, or inappropriate, although sometimes it might be misplaced. Your feelings are precious and beautiful, and the fact that they are not appreciated by her only means that she is not the right one for you. You deserve someone that would make you smile with the light of a thousand suns; you deserve someone that cherishes you, and cares for your well-being and that will wear your love like a badge of honor, the greatest of all prizes known to humankind. Someone that looks at you and sees a wonderful human being, so full of energy, and promise, and vitality. Someone that loves you as much as you do them, and then some more. You will find that person, I promise you. And then you’ll look back to this pain and see it was all part of the road that led you there."

You felt like her arms and her love were the only think keeping you from fracturing into a thousand small pieces right now, and you couldn’t help but thank the gods that had put Larissa Weems on your path.

"I don't know what I would do without you…mom," you mumbled in the softness of her dressing gown, and she took a sharp intake of breath, before she hugged you even closer, pressing a kiss on the crown of your head. Even though she had acted like a parental figure for the whole time you had known each other – more than your birth parents did, even when you had only been one in many students here at Nevermore – you had never explicitly acknowledged the fact that you considered her your mother, and had done so for quite some time. You felt emotion running thick in her voice as she replied, "My baby, my precious darling. I'll be right here for you for as long as I live. I promise you you’ll never be alone in your pain while I’m here."

You ended up falling asleep on her, and when you woke up in the morning, head pounding and eyes feeling puffy and heavy, you were touched to see a woolen blanket carefully tucked around you. No matter the sorrow and the heartbreak, you had someone that loved you fiercely, someone that supported you in your decisions and carefully held you when the world seemed to be collapsing around you. You were blessed. You folded the blanket carefully, putting it on the back of the couch, before tip-tapping towards the door. There was no sound coming from Larissa’s bedroom, and the light filtering through the curtains had still the cold quality of the early morning. You didn't want to wake her up early, and you needed a hot shower to start to feel somewhat human again. You felt like you could face your quarters now, if not the rest of the world.

You closed the door behind you circumspectly, like a thief sneaking out of the crime scene, then turned towards your own door and promptly froze.

There, on your doorstep, unequivocally caught in the act of setting down a single purple hyacinth in front of your door, was Marilyn.

She turned towards you, so many emotions flitting over her face that it was impossible for you to understand any of them, before her eyes moved to the door you had just closed behind you and set into a stony gaze, her lips pressed together and turned downwards in an angry frown.

"I guess you didn't take my words too hard if you're sneaking out of her rooms at this hour." The sharp edge in her words caught you by surprise, even though you were now starting to suspect that you had no idea who Marilyn really was anymore. This angry, poisonous person was a stranger.

"I beg your pardon?"

"Was it a new development or is it just part of your contract? Do you assist her in taking off her clothes as well as with paperwork?" The venom in her voice, the dark, twisted taunting that coated her words made you bristle in anger. Not only was she here on your doorstep in the early hours of the morning after discarding your feelings like yesterday’s trash, but she had the nerve to snipe at you, too?

"Just what the fuck are you trying to imply here, Marilyn? Wasn't it enough for you to break my heart yesterday? What do you want now?" She had the nerve to scoff at you. "Break your heart, oh, please. Spare me the dramatics. I only gave you a good dose of reality, one that you apparently chose to ignore."

"Oh, it's that what it's called now? Reality? Calling what I feel wrong and…and inappropriate?" Even throwing back her words at her caused the familiar knot to climb back in your throat. It was too soon to be having this conversation. The wound was too fresh in your heart, and your mind was still reeling at this new, bitter doppelganger of the woman you were still irrevocably in love with, a woman you were beginning to think never existed in the first place.

But no matter the bitterness, you could see a trace of the old Marilyn – of your Marilyn – in the way she passed her hand on her face, now looking more sad and tired than angry. Her voice had lost her edge too, as she murmured, "I'm sorry I was so harsh, believe it or not I do care for you. That’s why I’m trying to make you see things as they are. That principal Weems is encouraging you in this…this madness, it’s unacceptable. She's just manipulating you, don't you see?" You seethed. How dare she insult the one person who had made you feel accepted and valid and loved? Suddenly the tightness in your throat was gone, righteous anger coursing through you like a purifying fire. "Don't you even dare bring her into this. Larissa has always been there for me when I needed her the most. You trying to sabotage the only good thing that I have left in my life is what's really unacceptable here."

"But that’s precisely it! You are mistaking your gratitude for something else, and she takes advantage of it. She's just playing with you! And you are just too naive to understand it." You looked at her as if you were seeing her for the first time. Her jaw was clenched, as if she was the one in pain here, her eyes almost begging you to understand what she was telling you. Oh, you understood perfectly. For some twisted reason breaking your heart wasn’t enough for her, she wanted to drive a wedge between you and Larissa. She wanted you to be completely alone in the world. You let your eyes fall from her face, the anger that had enveloped you like a river of molten lava had now solidified in a block of icy stone as you focused on the purple flower she was clutching in her hand.

"It seems to me that the only one playing games with me here is you. You have been my secret admirer all this time, haven't you?" You asked, stressing the term mockingly. The way Marilyn’s head fell, hiding her face from your view was confession enough. And no matter how much you had hoped for this to be the case, it didn't bring you any joy now. It had all been part of an elaborate game, one that didn’t make any sense it its cruelty.

You made your way past her, almost shouldering her out of the way, before slotting in the key in your door. But you couldn't bring yourself to open and finish this conversation before asking the one question that was still burning through you in anguish.

"Why?" You whispered, leaning your head against the door, hoping to find some sort of strength in it.

"..." She seemed unable to find the words to answer. You turned to her again, all the anger long gone, and only sadness left in your voice. "Why did you do that, Marilyn? Leaving me those beautiful flowers, making my days brighter and colorful, and then taking the time to explain them to me, talking about love and devotion and shyness and all of that. Giving me hope, only to crush it when I finally got the courage to confess my love for you…I don't get it. What did you have to gain from it? Do you hate me so much that my pain is fun to you? I… I didn't think you were this sort of person, or I would have tried harder not to fall in love with you." And no matter how much you wanted your feelings to stop, you were still in love with her, you thought sadly, eyes travelling up her hunched figure, over her red hair and towards her face – now again fully visible – and to her eyes. Those eyes that seemed to be even bigger than they usually were, wide, mesmerizing pools of golden brown, alight with passion and a thunderstorm of feelings. You could now recognize surprise and disbelief, and something else that you couldn't quite put your finger on, something softer. And softer was the voice she spoke in, little more than a whisper, in fact: "It…was me? The older woman you meant…was me?"

"Of course it was you. Who else would it be?"

"I… I thought that you and Larissa…"

You couldn't help it, you physically recoiled at the thought, your back hitting the door behind you, painfully. "What? No! Larissa is like a mother to me! I do love her, but I'm not in love with her. That would be so wrong!"

"That's what I've said!"

"Wait." You felt like you were getting whiplash from all the confusing emotions surrounding you like a maelstrom. “You thought I was speaking about Larissa all this time?”

“You were talking about being in love with an older woman, and the two of you are always together, always teasing each other way more than it’s usual for a principal and their assistant… And you coming out of her rooms early in the morning, still in yesterday’s clothes, I thought…I thought…”

You felt like you could cry in relief, and at the same time bash your head against the wall in frustration. All this heartache because of a fucking misunderstanding? “Marilyn, were you jealous of Larissa? Is that what all of this is about?” You could see the blush rising up her neck towards her cheeks, and again she moved her gaze to her feet. You suddenly felt unstable on your feet, the door behind you holding you up and anchoring you to reality as your mangled heart seem to suddenly leap back to life, stuttering with hope.

“Marilyn, I am going to need a clear answer here. Do you have any romantic feelings for me?”

“I…I do.”

“Good. I do too.” The words came out hard, as you determinedly peeled yourself from your door and crossed the distance between you, your hand sneaking up to grab her lapel. Your eyes were level with each other, your breaths already mingling; you could smell spearmint mixing with her usual jasmine scent. “I am going to kiss you. Is it alright, Marilyn?” Your lips were but a sigh away from hers as she exhaled a Yes that you immediately swallowed, locking your lips together in desperation. It wasn’t a tender kiss at all, it was an eager battle for dominance, as you bit down on her lower lip, and her hands came up to the nape of your neck, tangling in your hair as the kiss deepened, your tongues tasting each other, exploring your mouths as if they held the answers to any question in the world. You distantly felt your back being pushed to the wall beside your door as your hand feverishly moved to her sides, pulling her flush against yourself. She moaned lightly into your mouth, her knee finding its way between your legs, pinning you in place. Not that you wanted to be anywhere else, especially as her lips left your own to travel to the side of your neck kissing, nipping and exploring the sensitive skin under your ear. You thought you might be losing your head, overwhelmed as you were by sensation, elation coursing through your veins mixed with desire. She hadn’t rejected you. She wanted you.

“What is the meaning of this?” A hard voice froze you both, and your dazed eyes traveled a little further up the corridor, meeting with the towering figure of Larissa Weems, standing in front of her open door, hands clenched into fists at her sides, protective fury blazing on her face as she looked at how Marilyn’s body was pressing on your own. A mother bear, ready to face any threat to protect her cubs. You could feel Marilyn’s swallow as she tried to put some distance between you two, but you kept her in place, refusing to let her out of your embrace.

“Uhm. Apparently, there was a misunderstanding yesterday. So uhm, this is us clearing it up…” You sheepishly tried to answer. It would be inconvenient for Marilyn to be sentenced to death by an angry Larissa defending your honor. Or heart, or whatever. Your mother in all but blood looked at you, clearly unconvinced, but willing to give you the benefit of the doubt. “Very well. I however encourage you to continue this…discussion in the privacy of your rooms. This is a school, after all.”

You sheepishly nodded, and relinquished your hold on Marilyn as you both shuffled towards your door, under the severe gaze of Larissa. “Oh and by the way…” she added, as you were about to close the door. You stopped, a whisper of dread trickling down your back at the dangerous tone of her voice “…I expect you both for lunch in my quarters. It seems like we have things to talk about as a family.” How could she make something so sweet sound so scary? You swallowed, nodding your head in acquiescence. “We’ll be there, mom!”

As you closed the door and turned towards Marilyn’s petrified face, you couldn’t help it. You started chuckling, then slowly your chuckles grew in intensity, to become a full-out laughter at the absurdity at you morning so far. Marilyn watched you as you wheezed with unbridled mirth, your hands coming up to wipe away the tears that had started to accumulate at the corners of your eyes.

“I…I’m sorry,” you managed to choke through your hilarity, “this is just…” but you couldn’t even finish the sentence, new laughter bubbling through as soon as your eyes met her shocked features, that were slowly turning more and more towards a sort of sheepish frustration. “Not funny!” she grumbled, her cheeks bright red by now, letting herself fall dramatically on the couch. “It kinda is though,” you guffawed, “You got yourself in trouble with the in-laws with the first kiss!”

She groaned, picking up a cushion and burying her face in it “Oh God, I’ve never been so embarrassed in my whole life. She is gonna murder me.” You perched yourself in the small space between her body and the edge of the couch, prying the cushion from her hands and letting it fall to the side. “Don’t worry, I won’t let her kill you.” Her distraught face peered up at you, glasses fogged up, hair messily splayed around her in a fiery halo. The remains of your laughter evaporated, as you lost yourself in her beauty, a hand instinctually coming up to cup the side of her cheek. Time stretched, losing any meaning while you were deep in contemplation.

“You are so damn beautiful, Marilyn.” You whispered, drinking in all the details as if you needed to commit them to memory for all eternity. You almost held your breath in awe, your thumb delicately caressing her cheek, her nose, then slowly dragging over her lower lip. How could this be real? Maybe you were still asleep on Larissa’s couch, and this was just an elaborate and very vivid dream.

“Are…are you sure about it?” She inadvertently echoed your thoughts, her voice small and fragile and oh so hopeful. “About the fact that you are beautiful? Of course.” You jokingly answered, thumb still stroking her cheekbone tenderly. She pouted under your hand. “Not that. About this,” she lifted the hand from the back of the couch where it was abandoned, to gesticulate vaguely between you two, “about us.” You brought your other hand up to perfectly frame her face between your fingers. “I think…” you placed a butterfly kiss on her forehead over her bangs “…I would like to give us a try…” you kissed her right cheekbone, just under the rim of her glasses “…to go on dates with you…” the left cheekbone was next “…to cuddle with you as we watch movies together…” the tip of the nose “…and, if you like, to spend the nights making love to you.” You ended your speech placing a kiss on her lips, a sweet meeting of lips, a seal of your love.

“But…why? I’m just…me.”

“You is all I want, Marilyn. If you’ll have me.”

----- The End -----

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