#sabiany

[clubartaesthetic]

She fell first, but he fell harder

[by-lalani]

carpe diem ⊶ joseph descamps

-“she's a, she's a lady

and i am just a boy"

or

in which a school of boys open its grounds to thirteen girls, and they have no idea how to act

started: january 4, 2024

status: ongoing!!

warnings: cursing, smoking, immature teen boys, mentions of homophobia, mentions of misogyny, mentions of abuse, violence, mentions of body image, i don't own ANY gifs (thank pinterest for that), but the cover and picture are mine, probably more, i'll add more later on as i go

tags: joseph descamps, jean dupin, michele magnan, simone palladino, martine gomez, annick sabiani, charles vergoux, original character, romance, joseph descamps x oc, mixer 1963, voltaire high

wattpad link

[admireforever]

Mixte

[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!!!

[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ V . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 5

Masterlist

Warnings: Smoking

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

“How’s your exposé coming along?” I asked the two girls as we walked to school.

“It’s alright. We haven’t started writing yet but we picked a theme, so that’s something!” Simone replied, “How’s yours? What was Descamps like?”

Michèle remained silent, listening.

“He was alright. Upset about his eye but, he was alright.”

“He didn’t start anything did he?”

“No, he was actually nice. He worked for a bit and tidied everything up at the end.” The two gave me a look of suspicion when I said that.

“He definitely wants something from you.” Simone exclaimed and Michèle nodded in agreement.

“No he doesn’t.”

“What if he does?” Asked the blonde girl.

“What could he want?”

“I don’t know, but keep your eye on him Y/N.” Simone said as we neared the school gates.

I grumbled a response that they couldn’t hear as we headed to class, Simone pointing out yet another cute boy in the corridor.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

During first lesson, Annick came running in late, blonde hair untidy and her pretty blue dress wrinkled.

“Miss Sabiani, how kind of you to grace us with your presence.” Bluebeard called to her with the intention of embarrassing her.

As Annick looked off to the side, I curiously followed her gaze, turning my head until my eyes landed on Pichon, who was smiling back at the blonde girl. Cute.

Unsurprisingly, Descamps catches my eye as I start to turn my head back to the front. I’m guessing he could feel my eyes looking towards him as he turned to face me as well, a soft, rosy pink colour coating his cheeks as we made eye contact

I quickly turned to the front after meeting his gaze, embarrassed, now focusing on the teacher and Annick.

As Mrs Giraud was distracted with reading the late note she was given, I heard Descamps’ voice call for Pichon.

Pichon stuttered out a response nervously, but I couldn’t make out what he was saying, I was too nervous to turn around and look at the two incase they caught me eavesdropping.

“You’ve come to class looking like that?”

“I’m sorry, I had to run.” The blonde at the front of the class replied, trying to catch her breath.

“Well you should leave earlier shouldn’t you? One hours detention.”

“But-”

“Do you object?” The teacher leaned towards her, late note still in hand.

While Sabiani protested against Mrs Giraud (earning her multiple hours of detention.) I turned to look at Simone on the right of me, her doing the same. We both rolled our eyes at the stubborn teacher and waited for the class to be over.

Not much else happened for the rest of the day, just a lot of eye rolling and sighing out of tiredness.

Descamps had come up to me at break, telling me that we were going to his after school to work on the project, and that he would wait for me outside of my last class.

“We need to get the Camus books from my house before we go to yours.” I told him, putting on my cardigan as he held onto my satchel.

“It’s on the way anyway.” He replied, handing me my bag back.

“Thank you.” I mumbled, throwing it over my shoulder.

We had not talked about what had happened last time we saw each other. We were both nervous to bring it up.

“My ma also wants to know if you’re staying for dinner” Descamps broke the silence, hands slumped into his pockets.

“Uhm- I’ll have to ask my brother when we get to mine.”

Suddenly his hand grabbed my arm, moving us over to the right as a car sped past us, the breeze blowing my hair into my face.

“Prick.” Joseph grumbled as he tucked my hair behind my ear before looking angrily at the car which had now sped away.

“T-thank you.” I stuttered, looking up at him as he started to walk again, leaving me stood there blushing. I ran after him to catch up, my legs not as long as his.

We didn’t speak another word until we got to my house, just awkward eye contact and the grazing of our arms as we moved out of the way of passing cars.

“I’m going to go pack the books, can you ask my brother if I can stay at yours for dinner please?” I told the tall boy as I opened the door.

He just nodded and followed me into the house.

“You took long walking.” Michael said as he stood up from the couch, walking towards us with a bottle of beer in his hand.

“Yep, I’m going to pack books, we’re study at Descamps’ tonight.” I said, pulling my cardigan and shoes off before running up the wood staircase.

“Okay…” Was all I heard from Michael as I got further away, his conversation with Joseph fading out as I entered my room.

Quickly I grabbed a bigger satchel, placing the books that Joseph had put away yesterday into it.

As I slung it over my shoulder I leant down to look at my self in my vanity mirror. My hair was out of place and my face was still red, either from walking or Joseph tucking my hair behind my ear.

I ran my hand through my hair, trying to tame it as I sighed, mentally preparing for the next few hours.

“Alright, let’s go Descamps.” I said, running down the stairs and slipping my shoes on.

“Be home before the street lamps come on!” Michael said as he turned to sit back down on the couch, papers sprawled over the floor messily, probably his homework.

“Yes I know. Come on Joseph.” I huffed, grabbing him by his jacket and walking back out onto the street.

“You’re in a rush.” He chuckled, shutting the door behind him with one hand, his other gripping onto my bare arm that was holding onto his jacket.

“I’m tired and want to sit down. Now can we hurry up and walk to yours?” I complained as I let go of him.

He laughed in response and started walking. We walked a few steps before he realised he was still holding onto my wrist, quickly letting go. I mentally pouted at this, crossing my arms in an attempt to warm me up as the autumn breeze ran through the streets.

“You’re cold.” He stated, looking at me before pulling a packet of cigarettes and a silver lighter out of his brown jacket.

“No I’m not.” I replied, bringing my arms closer to me, “I just left my cardigan back home, I’m fine.”

“You’re shaking.” The boy carried on, lighting his cigarette and taking a drag.

“I’m fine.” I stated again, my pace quickening. I just wanted to sit down in a warm house.

“Here.” He stopped in his tracks, cigarette in his mouth and lighter in hand as he pulled off his brown jacket, revealing his deep green jumper.

I didn’t reply, only turning to look at him.

He pushed the jacket into my arms, “If you die of hyperthermia, I won’t get a good grade on this project .” He chuckles and puts his lighter into his trouser pocket.

I pouted at him, putting my satchel onto the pavement and fitting my arms into his jacket. It came to my mid thigh, the arms length covering my hand completely.

“You look like you’re drowning in it.”

“Shut up. You’re abnormally shaped it’s not my fault.” I sigh, picking my bag back up.

“YOU’RE the one thats abnormally shaped.” He took another drag of his cigarette and turned to carry on walking.

“You’re like what, 187cm? That’s not normal for someone our age.” I followed him.

“Excuse you. Anything under 170 is not normal for someone our age.”

“Okay. No need to be mean about it.”

“I’m not being mean, I’m being honest. There’s a difference.” The boy turned his head to me, one hand in his pocket, the other holding the half burnt out cigarette in his smirking mouth.

“Okay fine, just unlock your door Descamps.” I grumbled as we reached his front door, happy that I could finally sit down.

“Say please.” He held the key in front of me, one hand on the door nob.

“Please unlock your stupid door Descamps.” I repeated.

“There we go. See, I have a good influence on you, teaching you manners.” He smiled as he opened the door, discarding his cigarette in a white ashtray that lay on a nearby table.

We both took our shoes off, placing them by the table and closing the front door. I kept his jacket on, not sure what to do next as I awkwardly stood in front of him.

“My room is this way.” He pointed out as we walked towards a white door. He took his green jumper off, the white shirt underneath slightly riding up.

He threw the jumper onto a brown chair and jumped onto his bed, hands behind his head and legs resting at the end of the bed.

I stood still, not knowing what to do as the boy closed his eyes.

On one side of his room there was a big window, the shelf nearby holding a few plants (pothos specifically) and a collection of vinyls.

I curiously wondered over, placing my bag by the window as I stood on my tip-toes to glance at his collection.

“Here.” I heard from behind me, the bed creaked and he walked up to me, reaching above me to grab the music. As he did so his chest touched my back, and my breath hitched in my throat.

I took the opportunity to look up at his face. Small dark freckles dotted his cheeks and his brown hair was tousled.

Joseph stepped back, not looking down at me as he turned and carried the collection to his bed. He lay back down and brought his arms behind his head again.

“Knock yourself out.” He said as I stood still, admiring him, “Why are you just stood there? Don’t be so stiff, sit down.” The boy grumbled and sat up.

Quickly I walked over and sat on the edge of his bed, looking between him and the vinyls. He just looked at me back, his hands on his lap.

I could still feel his gaze on me as I looked through his music collection slowly.

“Françoise Hardy?” I asked, looking between him and the record in front of me, “Really?”

“Yeah, what’s wrong with her? She has a good song, released last year. I forgot the name…” He tried to recall, “the one that goes, et les yeux dans les yeux?” He hummed, and pointed towards his eye, as if that would help him to remember.

“You like Françoise Hardy?” I asked again, smiling.

“Yeah… what’s wrong with her?” he questioned, head titled to the side and worry etched on his face, eye brows knotted together. He looked sort of cute. Almost like he couldn’t brutally bully half of the people in our class.

“N-nothing!” I exclaimed back, “Just figured you for more of a Johnny Hallyday kind of guy.”

The boy just looked back at me, confused as his head tilted more, his body leaning more on his hands and towards me.

“You know, the ‘French Elvis.’”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” He replied softly, looking back down at the vinyl in my hands.

“Françoise Hardy however, me and my ma love her.”

“You’re so unpredictable Joseph.” I laughed, suddenly feeling hot under his gaze. I took off his brown jacket and slung it over a nearby chair.

“So, Camus?” I said, picking up my bag from by the window and going to sit down with by back leaning on his bed, books laying in my lap.

“If we have to.” He grumbled in response.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Papers were sprawled all over his bed when his mother entered the room.

“Joseph?” She whisper-shouted, before walking into the room and realising that we had both fallen asleep.

Joseph lay on his side, his head resting on his arm as his other one dangled by the side of the bed, holding the back of my head up as I was sat, legs crossed and books still sprawled on my lap.

His mother sighed before exiting the room, “Teenagers these days are so interested in their school work.” She sarcastically stated.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: sorry for not uploading in a month, two deaths happened so I had a lot to take care of 😭

[deadcroisany]

Annick Sabiani core

[bunnnaraa]

I heard there's a petition going around for season 2 of mixte1963 however I feel pretty satisfied with the ending we got, it was ambiguous but we get what would mostly happen; girls wouldn't comeback to Voltaire high, Simone would probably go back to Algiers and finish her studies there, Sabiani would pursue a modeling career due to her inability to continue her studies, Michelle and Laubrec would struggle to live in a foreign city (Laubrac does have his internship yes but not Michelle and she can't live with him) Jean Pierre would probably fail his bacaloreate exam the first time (too much going on) as for Paul and Camille they'd probably have an affair since Paul wouldn't divorce his wife

[faejilly]

@msviolacea tagged me in a music thing awhile back, and I am finally playing! (No pressure tagging: Anyone Who Wants to Blame Me! also @atomicpen, @breadedsinner, @codenamecynic, @evilsapphyre, @foxghost )

Prompt: Shuffle your 'On Repeat' spotify playlist and list the first 10 songs that play! (Feel free to adapt to whatever "liked/played recently" version of things you have on something Not Spotify as needed 😅)

"Hall of the Mountain King" - Apocalyptica

"Talk" - Hozier

"Versatile, Pt 1 with Bass Flute" - Bolling Jazz Trio [Claude Bolling, Max Hédiguer, Marcel Sabiani, w/Jean-Pierre Rampal]

"Beauty Beats" - Beats Antique

"Vendetta" - UNSECRET, Krigarè

"Monsters" - Lucy Daydream

"No Plan" - Hozier

"Once Upon A December" (instrumental) - Kat Glaze

"Persuasion" - Regency Players

"Your Favorite Color is Green" (The Hunger Games: Mockingjay Part 2) - James Newton Howard

(And after that shuffle gave me like three more Hozier songs in a row, wtf spotify, that is Bad Shuffling 😅🤣🎵)

That is uh, probably pretty accurate, even if it's missing a bunch of the usual suspects. Fanmix choices and writing instrumentals and strings, oh my? I am deeply shocked by the lack of 70's/80's rock I tend to play when I'm driving... apparently not as much driving as usual lately!

[thekingofroad]

e ka pasur mire Sabiani qe thoshte”ke te mare e ke te le”

[pistakkiomusic]

Javanaise, Pt. 1 By Claude Bolling, Jean-Pierre Rampal, Max Hédiguer, Marcel Sabiani From the album Bolling Rampal - Suite for Flute and Jazz Piano Trio Added to Discover Weekly playlist by Unknown User on March 25, 2024 at 12:00AM Listen on Spotify https://ift.tt/hSHJRe3

[trojerucica-blr]

Sabiani ft. Marseli & Shkendije Mujaj - Show Biz (Official Video HD)

Video unavailableThis video contains content from Acromax Media Music, who has blocked it from display on this website or application Watch on YouTube  🤣🤣🤣😂💯🔝🔞✅😘

[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.

[loredanaastrologa]

🔮 Scopri il segreto dei tuoi astri!

Partecipa al seminario "La rettifica dell'ora di nascita" con il docente Giovanni Gatti il 29 gennaio 2024, dalle 15.00 alle 19.00. Trasforma il tuo Oroscopo con una procedura affidabile basata sui Simboli Sabiani di Dane Rudhyar.

Migliora la tua comprensione astrologica per soli 25.00€!

[olivexii]

⁀➷ ┄─ ˑ IV . ☆ ──ㅤ Knee Socks

Joseph Descamps x reader

Chapter 4

Masterlist

Warnings: Smoking

┌── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┐

“What’s going on between you and Descamps?” Simone asked me as we walked to school. The weather was worse than the last couple of weeks, clouds looming over and turning everything gray.

“What do you mean?”

“Some people saw you walking with him after school yesterday.”

“Oh right. I didn’t have an umbrella, so he let me use his. There’s nothing going on.” I reassured her.

“Good. Stay away from him, he’s bad news.” Michèle warned as we neared the school, pupils now flooding around us.

I didn’t respond to them, only focusing on not walking into someone. Simone was looking off towards Jean-Pierre, I guessed she was happy that he only got off with a warning, but there was something else in that look.

“Why are you looking at Jean-Pierre like that?” I whispered so Simone so Michèle wouldn’t hear.

“W-what?”

“You’re looking at him funny.”

“I’m not.” She stuttered out, a mix of happiness and concern on her face as she looked between me and the older boy.

“Do you like him?”

“Do I like him? I’ve barely spoke to him why would I like him!” She whispered.

“You compared him to Alain Delon the other day.”

“Yeah but… Just don’t tell anyone, please.” She turned to look at me, holding her pinky out.

“I wouldn’t do that to you.” I replied connecting our fingers.

“Thank you Y/N.” She smiled.

As we walked past Jean-Pierre and his friends, Simone kept turning around and smiling at him, Michèle completely oblivious.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

The previous week we had been doing multiple, beginning of term tests. Revision for it took up most of my time, meaning I hadn’t been able to go out a lot, only rarely for errands.

“Laubrac, some progress. That’s 4.” The teacher said as he handed the marked tests back. Most of the class laughed at this, while some remained silent.

I averaged in most classes, earning between 12-15, which I was proud of considering I didn’t really pay attention in some of the classes.

Annick usually scored higher than everyone, as well as Felbec. They both always came top of the class. Descamps however, didn’t do as well, scoring around 7 or 8 on every test.

The teachers forgave him though, considering he had lost an eye and experienced trauma. The bandage was soon replaced with a brown eye patch, which suited him more.

The next class I zoned out in, watching as the rain dropped down the window and made a soft patting sound.

“You are all going to prepare a presentation, but in pairs.”

My head snapped towards the teacher at this. Presenting in front of a class, especially with boys in the room, is horrible.

“I’m going to be picking these pairs, because if you were to work with your friend, you will get nothing done.” The teacher says as he looks towards Descamps and Dupin, who just laughed in response.

“Every pair of students will then present their work to the class.” I internally groaned at this, anxiety already building up inside of me. The teacher then began listing names off of the register.

“Sabiani and Pichon?” This pair made the class laugh, especially the boys in the back corner of the room, knowing they were going to bully Pichon because of it.

“Hey look, Pichon’s blushing. He’s turned pink like a pig!”

“That’s enough, Dupin.” The teacher called, sounding fed up of them.

“Do we have to work together in pairs, sir?” Annick raised her hand, Pichon looking at her in sadness.

“That’s the whole point of this exercise, and most importantly, your pair’s average, will be your grade.”

He then continued to rattle off some more names. Michèle was partnered with a random boy, and Simone was partnered with Applebaum.

“L/N and Descamps?”

I internally groaned again at this, picking at my fingernails before slowly looking back at Descamps. He had a small smirk plastered on his face, looking at Dupin before turning to look at me.

I wasn’t happy to be working with Descamps, knowing I would probably be the only one getting work done. But I wasn’t disappointed either, this way I get to know him a bit more.

“How does that sound?” The teacher asked happily once he had partnered everyone up.

Nobody replied, some looking at their partner and smiling while others just faces the front, not amused.

The bell rang, and everyone scrambled to grab their things.

“I feel sorry for you Y/N, having to work with Descamps. Surely you can ask to change?” Simone said as we walked down the school stairs, heading for break.

“I’m sure it will be fine. He won’t do any work anyway, so I can do the presentation on whatever I want.” I smiled back.

“Yeah, I guess that’s an advantage.” Michèle shrugged as we went to sit down on the benches outside.

“Me and Simone are going to ask if we can work together. We don’t really feel comfortable working with a boy after what happened a couple of weeks ago.” Michèle said, fiddling with her hands on her lap.

“I don’t blame you, I don’t feel comfortable either but, it’s either Descamps or a random boy I don’t know.” I shrugged and they agreed with me.

Michèle starts talking, while Simone smiles, looking into the distance. I look in the direction she is, and Jean-Pierre is walking towards us, a book in his hand.

“Here, this is yours.” He says to Michèle, holding it out to her, “I put it in my bag by mistake.”

“Thanks.” The girl smiles.

“Bye then.” He walks away abruptly, Simone’s smile fading when he didn’t even glance at her.

“English isn’t the problem for me, it’s maths.” Michelè begins to rant, “I got three out of twenty on the last test.”

“Three out of twenty isn’t so bad.” Simone sighs, still looking at Jean-pierre. I nudge her slightly with my elbow, smiling.

“L/N. Can we talk?” A voice comes from behind. All three of us turn around at the same time. Descamps is stood there, not looking at the other two, just me.

“Uhm sure.” I say wearily, looking at the other two girls, who are just glaring the boy down. He starts to walk away, and I stand up to follow him, leaving my bag with the two girls.

Once we made it a fair distance from Simone and Michèle he turns to me, leaning his back against the wall that we walked towards.

“We’ll have to go to your place, for the project.” He says, not looking at me, just pulling a cigarette and lighter out of his pocket.

“Why mine?” I ask, pulling my cardigan closer to my body, the September air hitting me.

“Because we can’t go to mine.” He blows smoke, looking straight ahead.

“Why?”

“Because. We can’t go to mine.” He says more sternly this time.

“We can’t go to mine either.”

“Why not?” He turns to me.

“My brother, he doesn’t like it when I have boys in the house. My mother is the same.” I cross my arms over my chest and look up at him.

“What? What if you tell them it’s for a school project.”

“I don’t know how they’ll feel.” I shrug.

“Oh well. Meet me after school. We can go straight to yours.” He turns away to take another drag of his cigarette and blow the smoke away from me.

“Okay, by the school gates?”

“Yes.”

I nod at him awkwardly.

“Is there anything else you wanted to say, or is that it?” I ask him, tilting my head.

He hesitates for a moment, before mumbling that he had nothing else to say, and walks off towards his friends.

I stand there for a few seconds, watching him, before turning on my heel and walking back towards the two girls on the bench.

“What was that about?” They asked once I had sat down.

“Nothing, just the project.” I shook my head, still thinking about the interaction.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

Like he said, Joseph was sat on a wall by the school gates, smoking again. As I approached him he turned to me and threw the cigarette away, stomping on it once he had came down from the wall.

“Sorry if you waited long, I was talking with Simone and Michèle.”

“It’s fine, had the chance to have a cigarette anyway.” He nodded, “Are we going?”

“Yeah.”

Everyone had left by now. The streets were silent except for the occasional rumble of a passing car.

“So, what did you want to do the project on?” I asked, turning to him as we walked up my street.

“Not sure, you can figure that out.” He replied, looking between his feet and the street ahead.

“Okay. Are you going to do anything in this project?”

“If you tell me to.” He replied, smirking at the ground.

“Descamps you have to do something, it can’t just be me that would be unfair.” I said when we approached my house.

“I will do something. I’ll be emotional support for you.”

“Oh, as if you know what emotional support is.” I laughed, opening the door, “Michael!”

My brother came out from the kitchen as we stood in the doorway.

“This is Descamps. We have to do a project for French.” I told him.

“Why are you with a boy?” He asked, chewing on an apple.

“We got paired up by the teacher.” I shuffled on my feet, gripping my bag tighter.

“Right, okay. Keep your door open and both of you don’t sit on the bed at the same time.” Michael replied, pointing his finger between us as he glared Descamps down.

“Yeah I know.” I sighed and walked past him, Descamps closing the front door and following.

“Door open!” My brother called as we walked up the stairs.

“I know!”

As I walked into my room, setting my bag down on a chair, taking my cardigan off and putting it on the back of the chair as well. Joseph stood in the doorway, looking around.

“What are you doing?” I asked, turning around to him and leaning my hand on my chair.

“You live here?”

“Yes…”

“You look like you do.” He said, taking his jacket off.

“Is that supposed to be an insult?” I took his jacket off of him and hung it on a hook with my cardigans.

“No.” He replied simply, turning around to slightly shut the door, leaving about a 4 inch gap.

“So,” He turned to me, “What do you want to do the project on?”

“Camus?”

“Sounds good.”

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

After about 15 minutes of me researching books and writing notes, Descamps finally spoke up.

“Why do you hang around with Michèle?” He said, leaning against the headboard of my bed.

“What?” I replied, sitting on the floor and leaning against the bed frame, open books scattered around me.

“I don’t get why you like her so much.”

“She’s my friend.”

“She’s an attention seeker. You don’t deserve to be around people like that.”

“She’s not an attention seeker.” I sigh, looking up at him and putting down the book I was holding.

“Did you see the way she was dressed on the first day.”

“It was a hot day. Anyway you could have ignored her but you decided to pour water all over her.”

“She’ll get over it.” He said, sitting up more and looking away from me.

I continue to look at him before picking up the book and going back to reading.

“He only got off with a warning.”

“Hm?” I hummed, not looking up from my book.

“Jean-Pierre. He only got off with a warning, while I’m stuck with an eye patch for the rest of my life.”

I turn around fully to face him, leaning my arm on the top of the bed by his legs.

“Yeah it’s not fair, I get that. You have every right to be mad at him. Besides, you look cool with an eye patch.”

“You think?” He turns to look at me, smiling and sitting up more.

“Yeah, it suits you.”

He laughs and gets up from the bed, moving a few books to the side to sit next to me on the floor.

“You should sit on the bed for a bit, the floor can get uncomfortable.”

“Won’t you be uncomfortable though?”

“No, I’ll be fine.” He shook his head and looks down at his lap.

“Thank you.” I say, putting my hand on his shoulder to pull myself up and going to lean against the wall, my legs now a few inches away from the back of his head.

“Is there anything I could do?” He says, turning around to look at me.

“Umm… I guess you could make a few notes on the context of L'etranger. I was going to do that next anyway.” I replied, sitting up and leaning down to pick up a book and give it to him.

He takes the book as I stand up. Walking over to my desk to get a pen and some paper for him, I feel his eyes following me. I smile slightly and turn around.

“Here.” I say, handing him the stuff.

“Thanks.” He takes them and opens the book.

I go to sit down next to him on the floor, picking up my own book and carrying on reading.

“Aren’t you going to sit on the bed?” He turned to me.

“I’m making sure you don’t mess the project up. It goes towards my grade as well.” I reply, leaning my head against my bed frame.

“R-right.” The boy says, maintaining eye contact with me but not saying anything else.

“Y/N?” I hear from down the corridor, my mother’s footsteps becoming louder, before she enters the room. “Your brother said you’re working on a project with a boy.”

“Y-yes. This is Joseph Descamps.” I say, sitting up straight.

Descamps stands up and goes to shake my mother’s hand, “Hello.”

“Are you staying for dinner?” She asks.

He turns to look at me questioningly, and I give him a nod.

“If that’s alright.” He looks back around.

“Yes that’s fine. It’s nice to know Y/N is actually making friends and she’s not just hauled up in her room like she always is.”

I feel my face turn red at this and rest my head against the palm of my hand. Joseph turns around laughing at me, putting his hands in his pockets as my mother walks away.

“I like her.” He carries on laughing as he goes to sit down next to me, closer this time.

My face goes even redder at the close distance between us, and I try to distract myself by reading.

.・。.・゜✭・.・✫・゜・。.

“So, Joseph, have you lived here for a while?” My mother asks, trying to break the silence around the table while we eat.

“Yeah, my whole life, in two different houses though. The first one was just outside of the city, but now I live a few streets down from here.” He replies after swallowing a mouthful of carrots.

“That’s nice. I’m guessing you like it here then.”

“Yeah, sometimes.” He replies, before turning his head to me, asking me to say something so he could get a break.

“How was work?” I ask my mother.

“It was alright, a lot of customers at the shop.”

I nod, not knowing what to say next. My brother, sat across from Joseph doesn’t say anything, just eating his food and staring down the boy across from him, making the whole situation more awkward.

When we had finished eating, I took all of the plates to the kitchen, offering to help my mother clean up.

“Should I go pack away the books upstairs?” Joseph asks me.

“Yeah, thank you. I think we’ve done enough for today.” I smile, which he returns and starts making his way up the stairs.

I clean everything up for a few minutes before making my way upstairs. Descamps is sat down, stacking all of the books neatly at the foot of my bed.

“Thank you.” I smile at him.

He looks up at me standing over him before holding his hand out to me. I take it and pull him up.

“I should probably get going now, it’s getting dark.” He says, walking past me to my door and taking his coat off the hook.

“I’ll walk you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“I have nothing better to do.” Walking to grab my cardigan, I notice it’s not in its usual place, placed on the seat of the chair instead of the back of it. Weird.

I put it on anyway and turn to Joseph, who’s stood watching me.

“C’mon.” He says, and walks out of my room. I smile at him behind his back.

Once we made our way downstairs we go to my mother.

“Thank you for the meal madam.” Descamps says as he sticks his hand out towards her.

“You’re welcome. You’ll have to come over again, I have a lot more questions to ask you.” She smiles, shaking his hand as he laughs.

“Let’s go before it’s dark.” I tell him, smiling at my mother as I gently grab the boys arm and walk towards the door.

We exchange goodbyes, and as soon as I close the door behind me I let out a sigh.

“What’s wrong?”

“Nothing, I’m just tired.”

“Are you sure.” He says, stepping towards me.

“I’m sure. Let’s get going, it’s getting dark.”

“Want to get rid of me that easily?” He smiles.

“Yes.” I say sarcastically, laughing as we start to walk.

After a few minutes I notice we had gotten closer to each other, our shoulders almost touching. I look up at him, admiring his face underneath the golden street laps. Why is he so horrible to Michèle, but completely fine with me?

The boy turns to look at me, and I quickly look away, now focusing on my shoes as he laughs quietly to himself.

“This is my house.” He says and stops outside of a brown door. He turns to me, not saying anything.

“Oh, you don’t live that far away.”

He shakes his head, still looking at me.

“I’ll see you tomorrow.” I start, not knowing what else to say.

“See you tomorrow.” He replies, smiling as he goes to open his door.

Quickly, I stand on my toes and kiss his cheek before quickly turning around and walking away, not wanting to see how he reacted.

After walking a few feet, I turn my head back, and he’s still stood there looking at me, hand on the doorknob, and a blush on his face.

I smile to myself and carry on walking home.

└── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ──┘

A/N: how on earth do i put a submission box on my profile i don’t know how to use tumblr 😭