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echo-bleu · 2 years ago

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While I’m staying away from all the speculation, all those posts and memes about Jaskier either being the only one who can see Geralt is different or the only one who can’t and keeps insisting that yes of course, that’s Geralt, are giving me ideas.

Namely: faceblind Jaskier. Bear with me. He can’t recognize any face, including his own in the mirror (when he finds a mirror, it’s not that often). That’s why he flirts with everyone, flirting is just his default mode in case it’s someone he’s met before, because at its core it’s kind of roleplaying. While people may not respond to it well, they mostly don’t bat an eye at cheesy joke-y pickup lines where Jaskier ‘pretends’ to meet them for the first time (”Do you come here often?”). Meanwhile it buys Jaskier time to figure out if he has in fact met them before.

(Demi or ace Jaskier? Who flirts for the reasons above and mostly has sex with people because he figures it’s expected of him?)

It’s also the reason he makes so many enemies. Sure, there are actual cuckooed husbands who hate him, but really it’s mostly former lovers who are horribly offended when Jaskier ‘snubs’ them at a reception because he just didn’t recognize them. Or former lovers horribly offended that he tried to flirt with them again pretending not to know them after they threw him out. There are also plenty of people who were never his lovers at all but are just offended because nobles are Like That.

(There have been some really embarrassing situations. Like the time he tried to flirt with Valdo Marx, his eternal rival, who still laughs about it every time they see each other.)

He latches onto Geralt because Geralt is recognizable. There just aren’t two white-haired wolf-eyed muscular men around. Jaskier never has to worry about seeing him and being unsure if it’s actually his friend and not some random stranger with the same haircut. Geralt also never changes his haircut or his appearance in any way, which is refreshing.

Yennefer is mostly the same, with her violet eyes, although Jaskier does have to get close enough to be sure. They have a few weird encounters where Jaskier starts to flirt with her, gets within a few feet, and immediately backtracks the hell out with a disgusted face. That’s how she figures it out, but it takes her a while. After that she takes great pleasure in teasing him about it, but only in ways that no one else will clock (hence the crows’ feet comment. Jaskier doesn’t even know himself in the mirror. He can’t tell if she’s right. He does obsess over it the whole way up the mountain, but he has other things to think about on the descent).

The witchers of Kaer Morhen, when Jaskier meets them, are so refreshing. They’re all different! Eskel is unmistakeable with his scars, and while they’re within the confines of Kaer Morhen it’s very easy to distinguish Lambert’s red hair from Coen’s shaved head and darker skin from Vesemir’s white beard. Ciri is of course the only kid, so that’s not a problem. For the first time in his life, Jaskier doesn’t feel like he’s playing catch up to a game whose rules he doesn’t know. It’s relaxing.

The witchers, on the other hand, are quite surprised about Jaskier. They’ve been told (many times, over the years) that Jaskier flirts with everyone under the sun. Now Geralt isn’t always the most reliable source, of course, and Eskel never expects anyone to be attracted to him because of his scars (which is a subject for another day), but Jaskier doesn’t even try to flirt, even just friendlily, with either Lambert or Coen. He’s not afraid of them, they would be able to smell that, he seems perfectly comfortable with them, but he doesn’t flirt. At first, they figure that it’s because his newly mended relationship with Geralt is still fragile.

One night they’re all a bit drunk and the witchers are talking about how Jaskier’s songs have helped them on the Path, how many humans are much nicer to them, and in general how hard interacting with humans is. And Jaskier is just nodding along, “Yeah, yeah, interacting with humans is so hard.”

“But you’re always going out of your way to talk to people and flirt!”

“Well yes, I like making friends, but they have so many expectations, and they get angry so easily.”

“That’s only when you flirt with the wrong people,” Geralt growls.

“But how am I supposed to know it’s the wrong people when I can’t recognize them?”

“What do you mean?” Eskel asks.

“Faces are hard! I don’t know how people do it, I mean, obviously your scars are distinctive, and I’d recognize Geralt’s hair anywhere, but most humans all look the same!”

Geralt blinks very slowly as it all slots into place in his head. Jaskier’s very strange flirting methods. The way he keeps making enemies without meaning to. Hell, he’s seen Jaskier say hello again to someone they’d seen just minutes before, or completely ignore one of his bard friends at a festival until she came right up to him. “You don’t recognize people?”

Jaskier, who didn’t survive forty-three(ish) years without figuring out that this wasn’t normal, freezes and suddenly looks like a deer in the headlights. “Uh... no?”

“So if, say, Vesemir was to shave his beard, you might confuse him with Geralt?” Lambert asks.

“I’d... probably be able to tell from up close? Geralt’s taller.”

“Wow.” Lambert seems ready to tease him about it, but Eskel stops him.

“How did you never notice?” he asks Geralt.

Geralt just grunts. Jaskier answers for him. “I’m very good at making people feel like we’ve always known each other, I guess. Mostly I just buy time until I can figure out if I’ve met them before.”

The witchers have a million questions, but they never make Jaskier feel like he’s deficient somehow. Jaskier has always been ashamed of it, but to them, it’s just another quirk, like not being able to eat raw meat.

The next time they’re on the road, or at a festival together, Geralt is brooding just as much as usual, eyes darting this way and that, but before Jaskier can go and greet people (with his usual fake-it-till-you-make-it technique), Geralt stops him.

“Your friend Essi’s wearing a yellow dress with red accents,” he mutters under his breath. “Marx has a green doublet, that shade you hate. Avoid the man in the bright purple doublet and the brown pants, you slept with him last time and he threw you out. That woman at the right of the stage with the braid, she has a husband, you tried before.”

Jaskier gets so emotional that he can’t speak for a solid minute, and he ends up hugging Geralt instead. “Didn’t know you paid attention,” he says eventually.

“Just look at me if you’re not sure who someone is, I’ll tell you who to avoid,” Geralt says gruffly.

It’s not a perfect system, but Jaskier doesn’t offend a single person all day.

#the witcher #jaskier #geralt of rivia #geraskier #the witcher fanfiction #faceblindness #i'd like to have a spotter too please #i used to work at a library and when people came in after lunch #i had no idea if they'd been in that morning #i'd say hello and they'd be like uh i was here earlier #echo's fanfiction

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adorerdraco · 4 years ago

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Not My Type (Like You) ✧ Draco x Reader

Request: you should like do a one shot or even another mini series about amortentia/love potions in general. i’d soooo read that

AU SEVENTH YEAR WHERE VOLDY NEVER CAME BACK <3 f**k that mf !

italics are for flashbacks <3 i love them if you couldn’t tell

Warnings: mean!draco, cursing, more mature themes/ideas, little bit of spice towards the end teehee but not too much bc idk how to write smut to save my life

Words: 4.5K

A/N: I saw a tiktok that kinda inspired this and i couldn’t get the idea out of my heaaaad if anyone knows which one im talking ab send it my way so i can show !!!! ALSO I LOVE THIS ONESHOT I LOVE DRACO AND I AM IN MY FEELINGS this might be my new favoriteeeee

Draco Malfoy was insufferable.

The Prince of Slytherin was unbearable for many reasons, things you've been taking notice of since your first year at Hogwarts when you accidentally had the ”pleasure” of interacting with him when he called you stupid in a class for reciting a spell incorrectly. That day, a hostility blossomed. A hostility that ensued nothing but teasing, mocking, and criticizing that would sometimes go too far and you'd both have to be pulled away from each other by your friends’ before either of you said anything excessively harsh that had no return.

You often felt like Malfoy sought you out to bother you and only for that. You could be sitting in the Quad with friends, conversing and laughing like nothing in the world mattered, and a few minutes later you'd be hurling insults towards the blond across the courtyard after he would yell something infuriating to you with that smug smirk on his face and his goons laughing wildly beside him as if he just said the most hilarious thing they've ever heard.

On the days you’d ignore him, not having the patience or the energy to deal with him, he would still somehow find a way to push your buttons. Little things here and there like passing you in the corridors and tugging at the ends of your hair gingerly like a child but enough to tick you off or sending you notes from across the class in the form a small fluttering bird with a lousy drawing of you usually with a message along the lines of, “Y/L/N, hopefully, this note finds itself in the nest of hair you have today xx DM.”

In all honesty, there wasn’t a day you didn’t encounter Draco and it’s been that way for seven long years. Neither of you ever gotten tired of mildly or spitefully bullying each other and neither of you ever dreamed of stopping. He was one of the few constants in your daily life, and you in his. It was like you both lived on annoying the other, and in the midst of all the chaos that you brought to one another; there was a small, teeny, tiny acquaintance - not that either of you would ever admit it. You may have noticed it the time you bet each other ten galleons for who would win in the Triwizard Tournament your fourth year and he bet on Viktor Krum while you on Cedric Diggory. (he’s very much alive i refuse to think otherwise.)

“So you’re telling me, your mother is the reason why you’re not at Durmstrang,” you scoffed. “This whole time I could have been saved four years of headaches.”

“You’re just jealous some of us have more opportunities than others,” he snarks back pompously. “Unlike you, I hardly believe you would be graceful enough to even be considered admission into Beauxbatons.”

You had gone to see the last task of the competition just like the rest of the schools, all packed tightly onto the stands and watching carefully the exit of the maze. Naturally, you had arrived with your own friend groups, but somewhere during the time of sitting there and even being a few rows behind the blond and his minions, the two of you had met in the middle bench after he was trying to prove something wrong to you.

When Cedric appeared back in front of the stands with the glowing Triwizard cup held high over his head in victory and every Hogwarts student loudly celebrating, you had jumped up from your seat and shook wildly an irked Draco beside you. He roughly shrugged your hands off his stiff shoulder, looking up at you with a sneer that you met with a bright beaming smile.

“Pay up, Malfoy!” You held out your hand towards him, opening and closing your fingers to receive the bet money. “I believe it was ten galleons you owe me.”

He begrudgingly reached into his coat pocket and fished out the coins, counting them defeatedly before tossing them into your palm. “What a waste of galleons.”

“Hey, you made the bet,” you reminded him with a still very bright smile. You shoved the money into your pockets, keeping one of the gold coins in between your fingers, and gave him a small hair ruffle that he harshly recoiled from before you turned to jump back up towards the level of stands your friends were originally sitting at.

“Were you really sitting with Malfoy this whole time?” One of your friends questioned when you reached them, a goading smirk on his face.

“Ooooh, she definitely was,” another friend piped up, wiggling her eyebrows. “They’re obsessed with each other.”

“Shut up,” you smack her arm casually, showing the pair the one gold galleon you were holding. “We are not. I was only sitting with him to get my bet money.”

“Sure,” they drawled in unison, sniggering when you threw your head back in annoyance.

You looked down the rows to see the mop of white hair you just sent into disarray. He was slowly descending the stairs of the stands with Crabbe and Goyle following closely behind him. Almost as if he felt your eyes on his back, he turned back to look at you, his cold gray eyes gazing into yours. It was like everything around you went quiet, the only thing in your focus was him and all you could do was stare back. It wasn’t until your friends started stifling laughter and whispering “aww’s” that you snapped out of the short-lived and odd few second trance you were in. He waited for you to do something before he turned back around, and you did - by holding up both hands; the one golden galleon on your left and your middle finger on your right, grinning to yourself when he rolled his eyes throwing you the finger right back before he finally disappeared into the mob of people below.

You were briskly walking down the corridors, books held tightly to your chest with your friend at your side while you made your way to Advanced Potions with Slughorn after Snape finally made his way into the DADA position. It was an easy class, potions being something you had a knack for and it gave you enough leisure to mess with your “favorite” Slytherin who shared it with you.

“Look there goes your boyfriend,” your friend teases, elbowing your upper arm roughly and nodding her head down towards the hall to the tall blond appearing around the corner and entering swiftly into the class.

“He’s not my boyfriend,” you hiss. “I’m tired of everyone saying that. I hate him and he hates me, end of story.”

“You know when you say you hate him, it just sounds like the opposite,” she says tauntingly. “Besides, hate is a strong word and very misplaced. Maybe, it’s just years of built-up tension that both of you have been too nervous to do anything about.”

“Tension? Yeah, I want to strangle him,” you laugh to yourself at the thought.

“Not that tension, idiot,” she shakes her head, “I mean sexual tension...clearly.”

You gave her a horrified look mixed between being disgusted and being offended. You held your hand over your mouth and pretended to gag as dramatically as you could. “I am appalled that you would even say that. I would rather be locked in a room with Filch and Peeves and hear them argue and fight all day than to be with Malfoy like that.”

“Come on, think about it,” she encourages, stopping the two of you a little ways away from the classroom. “You guys 'hate' each other?” She finger quotes the hate, looking at you with a raised eyebrow. “When you hate someone, you don’t go out of your way to talk to them every day.”

“It’s not like that,” you wave a hand dismissively. “Also, this isn’t a cliche, this is real life. We hate each other, that is all there is to it.”

You picked up the walk again, your friend to following behind you while letting out a deep and exhausted sigh. You couldn’t help but think about what she said, sure, perhaps at one point you thought Draco was attractive with his bright silver hair, his glittering gray eyes, his little button nose that he would crinkle up every other word he spoke in his charming haughty voice, or the way he’d tower over you in the middle of a conversation gone wrong and he’d be talking lowly to you but all you’d be able to focus on was the sweet scent of apples and cologne that radiated off of him.

“No,” you whispered almost silently to yourself, forcing yourself out of your thoughts and shaking your head from side to side as if it was going to get the image out of your head. He was mean, disrespectful, arrogant, and insulted you daily - even if you both laughed about it or gave props for the perfect jabs.

The first thing your eyes landed on when you walked into the dingy Potions classroom was Draco, his focus trained on the ceiling as if he was deep in thought. Just as his eyes were about to flicker down towards you, and sensing that he was about to, you quickly avoided his gaze and concentrated onto Slughorn who was waiting patiently by his desk with a bubbling cauldron for you and your friend to join the crowd in front of him.

“Great! Now that we’re all here,” Slughorn began excitedly, fixing the sleeves of his robes as he grabbed the ladle in the cauldron and began stirring it while continuing his lecture.

You were trying to listen, capturing only the professor’s last sentence as he called on someone who raised their hand. All attention was thrown out the window when you realized Draco was standing near said classmate, a look of annoyance suddenly clouding his features when his pale eyes met yours.

“What?” He mouthed. You ignored him, trying to turn your concentration back onto Slughorn but nothing he was saying made sense, and right as you caught a word you did understand, a shuffling and an abrupt arm knocking into yours threw you right back out of the loop.

“Watch it,” you snap hushedly when you notice who it is. “Why are you over here?”

“I can’t say hello to my number one fan?” He whispers back, snickering slightly when you scoffed quietly.

“Fan? Says the one who shoved his way through the crowd to come over here,” you grumble, crossing your arms.

“I hardly shoved,” he mutters. “I only moved because I couldn’t see Slughorn from where I was standing. Not everything’s about you.”

“Really? Because to me, it seemed like you came over here for my attention.”

He let out a breathy chuckle, a patronizing smile making its way onto his face. The type of typical boy smile where his mouth is half agape with his tongue smoothing over his teeth as he stared off across the room with his fingertips rubbing thoughtfully against his jawline as he thought of what to say. You stood still as he bent down, nearing his mouth towards your ear and whispering hotly, “you wish, darling.”

Slughorn sent everyone to their paired tables, and as everyone began moving and Draco sauntered off away from you, you stood stuck there, shocked with the lingering chills that were sent down your spine from your archnemesis’ comment.

“I told you, you’re into each other,” your friend sang expectantly from behind you, grabbing onto your sleeve and directing the two of you towards your table.

You were working peacefully at your workspace, cutting up, peeling, and crushing the ingredients that your friend was sliding across the surface to you. In the table behind you was where Draco was working annoyingly quiet, tossing the stripped stems of the roses at you that you had to peel, tiny thorns pricking at your ankles through your socks since the bigger thorns had been taken off for the potion. As payback, you would throw back loose extra pearl dust you ground up, giggling tauntingly when he would frown at you for getting the coarse white powder all over his Italian leather shoes and most definitely inside of them as well.

When you, and seemingly the rest of the class, had finally thrown in all the ingredients and the potion promptly finished brewing, beautiful clouds of white and pink smoke began rising from the cauldrons, each one having a lovely scent of first; freshly pressed high-priced linens, then a faint smell of a brand new racing broom out of a box with a freshly polished wood handle that then quickly transformed into a sweet harvest of apples, green specifically, and finally...

“Ugh, gross,” you pinched your nostrils closed, turning your body around and sending a scowl towards Draco’s way. “Malfoy, we get it, your cologne is expensive, now stop spraying it. I was smelling all these wonderful things and you ruined it.”

He arched an eyebrow at you, looking at you as if you were crazy. “Are you mad? I didn’t spray anything, I think you’ve finally lost it.”

“Well you laid it on too heavy this morning then, it reeks in here.”

“You’re one to talk, Y/L/N. Did you bathe yourself in that dreadful perfume you wear just now? And that ghastly lip shiner thing you use,” He sneers, crinkling up his nose. “I can’t even think straight, I might vomit.”

“Lip shiner? It’s called lip balm, you prat,” you retort, crossing your arms angrily. “Either way, I haven’t used or sprayed anything either so-”

“For Merlin’s sake!” Your friend suddenly exasperated loudly from beside you making you briskly whirl around to look at her, a look of pure annoyance etched onto her face. “Are you two really that daft? Honestly? Have you been paying attention to anything other than each other? For instance, the potion we just made?”

This gained the attention of your classmates around you in the surrounding tables, turning their heads slightly but not obviously with small knowing smirks on their faces while they snickered quietly and listened. It was soundless as you reached towards the book in front of your friend, pulling it painstakingly slow towards you in fear of the words that were written on the open page.

“Amortentia,” you muttered glumly as you read the page, pushing it away from you dejectedly as everything began to click.

“The reason you’re both smelling each other is because you’re what the other desires and is attracted to. Wow, what a revelation! As if the whole school didn’t already know.”

You were afraid to turn around. You could feel the cold and hard pair of eyes burning holes onto your back and the immediate amount of whispers and giggles of the people around you. Luckily, Slughorn was busy at the other end of the room, working diligently with another pair of students who managed to mess up their potion.

“That’s the most ridiculous thing I’ve ever heard,” Draco announces finally.

“What’s so ridiculous about it?” You questioned, your heart falling to the pit of your stomach when you turned again and took notice of the way his lips were curling upwards as if it was the most disgusting thing he could have ever heard.

“Think about it, Y/L/N,” he deadpans. “Why would I ever desire someone like you?”

There had been occasions over the years when you were in this situation. None as drastic and as revealing, but there would be times when friends and others would poke fun and say the exact same thing your friend told you earlier. The usual, “they got the hots for each other!” and you would always brush it off and joke about how you could never, and he’d do the same. It was always amongst laughs and jokes, but as you looked at the Slytherin in front of you - there wasn’t a hint of amusement on his hardened face.

“Piss off, Malfoy,” you seethed, biting down hard on your lip to refrain from lashing out either in tears or in insults, you couldn’t decide. “If I’m so revolting, leave me alone from now on, I mean it.”

“I never said that,” he argues. “You’re just simply not my type.”

For some eerie, awful reason, the words tore into you like a sharpened knife going easily through butter. You were used to his insults, his mocking, his comments about your appearances - but this hurt, and you couldn’t explain why. You thought, for a second, possibly, that maybe your friend was right. Maybe there was a hidden attraction you had for the platinum blond that you buried deep away and one that he had for you. There was no way that was the case now, not at all.

And for the first time in your life, you couldn’t be more sure of a simple little fact.

You hated him.

✧･ﾟ: *✧･ﾟ:*

You don’t know how long you spent sitting in Moaning Myrtle’s bathroom, back against the cold tiled wall with your knees brought up to your chest. Your friends had tried to console you after the public rejection and humiliation, but their words only made you feel worse. You felt silly for being so bothered about being rejected by Malfoy, he wasn’t exactly someone you fancied, to begin with.

After dinner, you went off the grid and found yourself where you’re now sitting. The ghostly girl flew restlessly around you, popping out of her stall now and then to chat but then going back into her abyss of nothing when she learned you were still upset. You noticed it made her a little too pleased, considering the fact it was always her who was miserably wailing about her problems in the bathroom. She tried to hide it and let you talk to her about how you felt, but she gave terrible advice most of the time.

“Well, if it was me, I would have never started fancying someone who was mean to me,” she mumbled. “Like when Paul Wighorn made fun of my hair for a whole year and laughed when I cried. I hated his guts then and I still do now.”

She had a point, but she was also Myrtle. Nothing about the overly dramatic ghost made sense.

“I don’t fancy him, It’s just weird,” you trail off. “I can’t imagine a day without him, even if he is a complete arse. We always joked about how we hated each other, but I didn’t think he actually meant it, I guess.”

“I think you do fancy him, though,” she whispers knowingly in your ear, making you flinch from her cold draft. “Stop denying it, it’ll only keep making you feel worse. Amortentia doesn’t lie, silly. Maybe when you drink it, but before that, all real feelings are there, whether you know it or not.”

You sat quietly, taking in her words before something came crashing down onto you like a wall of bricks.

“I suppose that means he’ll have to stop denying it too,” she adds thoughtfully.

“Myrtle,” you rush to get up, smoothing your hair down profusely and fixing the wrinkles in your clothes. “You’re a genius.”

“I am?” She asks excitedly. “What did I say?”

You waved her off, giving her another thank you before rushing out of the bathroom and into the empty corridors. You were trying to go back to your dorm to sleep, hoping that when tomorrow came you would be bold enough to confront the Slytherin Prince but it was thirty minutes past curfew, something you didn’t notice until you were bustling down the steps in a rush and came face to face with the man of the hour himself doing his Prefect patrolling duties.

“Go to your dorm, Y/L/N,” he sneers. “I’ll take away house points, don’t test me,”

“I don’t believe you.”

“That I’ll take away house points? Watch me. Five-”

“No, you twat,” you groan, swatting his arm with your hand. “I don’t believe that I’m not your type.”

He stayed wordless for a moment, biting the inside of his cheeks and clenching his jaw as he peered down at you from his lanky height. “Why not?”

“Because I didn’t think you were my type until the amortentia made me aware of it,” you answer quietly. “Actually, my friend had a hand in it, but it was mostly the potion.”

Silence, again. Still and deadly. You could hear the large clocks around the school tick and tock, the hundreds of paintings snoring peacefully or chattering quietly. You avoided looking up at the boy in front of you, all of a sudden feeling small under his gaze until you felt cold fingers brush against your cheekbone and then softly through your hair causing you to finally look up into the soft wandering almost blue eyes.

“I didn’t find out with the amortentia,” he muttered almost reluctantly as if it was the most difficult thing he had to reveal. “I’ve known I’ve liked you for a while.”

“How long is a while?” You curiously wonder aloud.

“I’m not telling,” he smirks. “Perhaps you’ll figure it out one day.”

Both hands came up to rest on your cheeks, slightly cold but soft and tender. It sent chills throughout your body as he took a step closer to you and then closer, backing you carefully into the diagonally ascending stone wall that went in the direction of the stairs. Your breathing was getting uneven, you noticed the way you accidentally switched to manually forcing yourself to inhale and exhale normally when he leaned down with his face now being mere centimeters from yours. It was torture, having your eyes closed and feeling the way his nose was brushing against yours, minty breath warm against your lips as he ghosted over them with his. He was so close, you smelt everything that was in the damn potion that got you here. It sent flutters of warmth down your body, trickling down and seeping deeply into every bone in your body as if this is was the remedy its been needing. This is what you’ve been missing.

When you finally felt a soft pair of lips being pressed into yours, it felt almost unreal that you were there. It was awkward the first couple of seconds, both of you wondering how in the world had you gotten yourselves in this position, but after you relaxed and he found his Prince of Slytherin confidence - it was magic. His lips moved languidly against yours, affectionately and full of longing. He kept his hands on your cheeks, still timid to move anywhere else while you kept yours resting lightly on his sides. It scared you a little, how fast and how easily you melted into each other, like if this was something you’ve been doing with him for years rather than torment the other for laughs.

You hated the feeling when he pulled away, a gust of freezing castle air passing through the space between you and cooling your lips and face from his contact. His hands dropped down to his sides and he looked down at you with a small smile, a teeny bit smug, but happy. You wanted to feel the same way, but a question still loomed over your head, overpowering the giddiness you were vividly feeling.

“Why did you lie earlier?” You question softly, directing your gaze to the floor. “In class, I mean.”

He thought about his answer for a second, sighing deeply when he realized he had to uncover more truths about himself to you. You took a mental observation at that, he didn’t like to talk about feelings. “You didn’t say anything. Didn’t even look at me. I thought I’d beat you to it and reject you before you could reject me.”

“What made you think I’d reject you?” You coaxed. “Other than the fact that I made you a sworn enemy at eleven.”

“Exactly that,” he laughed lightly. “You’re unpredictable, Y/N.”

You smiled to yourself at the realization that he finally used your first name. “So are you, Draco.”

“Not really,” he grins. “Like in just a few moments, for example, I’m going to start snogging you.”

You opened your mouth to encourage him but shut it quickly when he closed the space between the two of you again, this time much closer than he was before. He was flush against you, and when you say you could feel everything; you could feel everything. You were almost begging for him to lean down and kiss you again by the time you felt his hands on you again, running delicately around the exposed skin of your hips when your shirt hiked up an inch on accident. He leaned down again, and with the advantage of his lowered height, you let your hands slide up his arms, biceps, and ultimately the nape of his neck where your fingers continued up into his hair. The breathiest gasp escaped his throat as you tugged at the ends gently, smirking to yourself when he closed his eyes in delight at the touch.

His lips came down onto your fast this time and hastily, pressing himself impossibly closer into you. You could feel his grip tighten against your hips, his hold moving upwards onto your waist as he continued to kiss you fervently. His teeth bit down softly on your bottom lip and you wasted no time in parting them slightly for his tongue to meet yours. You tugged at the platinum strands of hair again, feeling triumphant when a low groaning sound emitted from his throat at the sensation as he tilted his head to deepen the kiss further.

You knew you were done for when one of his hands slowly slid up your upper body, stopping first at your collarbones with warm fingertips fluttering over the skin, before he moved it upwards completely and he now had his large hand wrapped comfortably around your neck. You gasped in delight into the kiss, a swarm of butterflies going directly to your lower stomach as he squeezed against the artery in your neck meticulously, the coldness from his Malfoy family crest ring only adding fuel to the fire. He tore his mouth away from yours with his hand still clutched firmly around your throat and you were almost sent into orbit with the look he was giving you. A look filled with desire, adoration, and intensity - his pale gray eyes were much darker, almost a dark blue that resembled the starry night sky on a summer night.

Lips reattached themselves roughly and feverishly against your jawline, peppering long and tender kisses all the way towards your ear and then down towards your collarbones where he was beginning to undo the rest of the top buttons of your school dress shirt. You felt him smile against your hot skin when you’d writhe underneath him, emitting weak whimpers that you couldn’t hold back that he ended up having to clasp a free hand over your mouth as he whispered into your ear to stay quiet.

It didn’t matter that you were in the middle of a poorly lit corridor where anyone could walk past and see the frenzy that was unfolding, nor did it matter to Draco that his Prefect duties were long forgotten. Your friend was right, and everyone else for that matter; it wasn’t hate you felt for the blond at all, it was years and years of a craving and a hidden yearning packed with displaced tension.

And now, you were both exactly where you wanted to be; together.

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chasingpj · 3 years ago

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okay but imagine how obsessed percy is with neck kisses. like he would definitely love sloppy kisses and every time he would do it for comedic purposes. like he would be placing wet and messy kisses on his s/o neck while they giggled under him. everytime he is bored he will kiss his significant others neck. also if you kissed his neck. oh boy. he would go ape shit. he would love showing off hickies you gave him and would be kinda sad when they start to fade or disapper. would also definitely pout his way into hickies cause he would want you to give them to him so bad.

SHUT UP !! WHY ARE YOU DOING THIS TO ME ??? 😭

okay but yes, lots of neck kisses and he finds it so funny when you scrunch your nose in playful disgust. you'd wipe them away and he'd pretend to be offended and make up for the wiped away kisses with even more wet kisses. you just can't win at all.

when you kiss his neck, he's putty in your hands. it gets him in the mood faster than you can switch on a light tbh. the little shit loves leaving you with hickeys in both places that would be publicly visible and in places where they *cough* are not. he doesn't mind if you cover them up with makeup if you're not comfortable with showing them but he wears yours around proudly 😭 also, he'd be diligent in making sure to replace your faded hickeys with new ones so he's not pouting for too long

#xeni's ask box #percy jackson x reader #percy jackson #percy jackson oneshot #percy jackson fanfiction #percy jackson fic #percy jackson x you

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persephoneyss · 4 years ago

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Fool.

Pairing: jeon jungkook x f!reader.

Genre: Yandere, dark themes, heartbreak, office au.

Summary: ❝The fool is one who rests dreaming of doing things beyond his reach, instead of making it come true, pathetic.❞

Warnings: Yandere behavior, obsession, stalking / harassment, quite a bit of voyeurism, implicit murder, naming of non-consensual sex, forced pregnancy, somnophilia, jk drug a reader, extremely complicated relationships, sexual tension between mxm characters, naming of homosexual relations mxm.

Number of words: 5000+

︙ Author's note: My second fic here, thank you very much for all the support you gave to the first one. Enjoy!

(Sorry for any mistakes, my first language is not English and I am not fluent either.)

Puedes leer este fic y más aquí en español.

They say, out there, that monotony is boring.

What everyone vaguely forgot, is that we live in it. It is an endless loop between what we do, and what we want.

So, nobody wanted to change it.

Jungkook lived in a routine. He liked his personal independence and, likewise, he never changed anything in his life. He was a man of habit, worthy of admiration and imitation. But he never considered himself capable of guiding someone as his own person, he just seemed boring to him.

Perhaps his complexity of seeing things in different ways was what made him such a genius.

People who break with the custom or the conventional can be called differently in the eyes of everyone, crazy or genius. Jungkook considered himself to be in the middle of both terms. He was madly in love with his genius.

But nobody said that love was for everyone, Jungkook was also in love with another person that he considered that he was worthy of his love, the obsessive and sick, misunderstood love of him.

Jungkook was a genius, but he never wanted money wasting his time on useless things like building an empire and being a millionaire. He looked at other directions in life. His salary was minimal, he worked hard under Kim Taehyung's whip. His boss was successful, just as he has imagined since he saw him go by one fall day.

He couldn't remember the date, but he knew it was fall. The cool breeze was a seal of love.

The clumsy little Jungkook, always with his head down looking for a chance at life. When he could have anything he wanted with his inner genius. The porcelain cup swayed in his hand, watching people rush past, just as he thought it would, everyone had their own business in this time of change. Taehyung really fell from the sky like an angel, or that's what he wanted to remember the day he watched him pass a coffee shop with his phone in hand ordering a cold American coffee even though the wind was blowing strongly in the streets. Jungkook watched him fervently, he was enigmatic and undoubtedly managed to get his attention almost immediately. His tall, firm figure made her want to clench her thighs.

His father always told her that pleasure was fun on unfortunate occasions.

Perhaps because of that, he took enormous pleasure in seeing Taehyung walking close to him.

He felt, in a disgusting way, good about himself. It was as if just by looking at his face and his dark eyes, he would manage to make her cum on his pants. Jungkook searched for him for days, until in an insignificant magazine, which he found by chance, he read about one of the most sought-after businessmen in the nation. Much money, and above all an elegant demeanor. They were the perfect combination to create someone like Kim Taehyung, however, Jungkook missed everything when he saw a photo of his beloved unknown to him.

It was a matter of time. He now named himself to be an excellent worker, always by Taehyung's side wherever he went, he felt euphoric just hearing him say his name with his voice so silent. His personal secretary was jealous of him, she even insulted him for a simple smile that young Jeon showed her. She obviously was fired from her, she being replaced by Mrs. Jang who was an older woman, married with two children.

However, no one ever noticed or simply turned a deaf ear to Jungkook's constant provocations towards the former secretary, just as her mocking smiles seemed to be ignored by conveniently blind eyes.

Jungkook was a man who knew how to play. He loved being the mouse for Taehyung, getting caught up in his whims. But he loved even more being the cat marrying the prey.

And just when he could already feel himself on top of the iceberg, almost close to touching his beloved boss. You arrived. You were an intern, nothing special considering that thousands came every year and you didn't have a permanent position unless you did your job well. Jungkook didn't even notice your presence, not for a year. Mrs. Jang sick from one day to the next, Taehyung had a considerable appreciation for her so she did not take away his job. Only covered it with a temporary vacation.

Jungkook was used to walking into his boss's office being greeted by the harsh but sweet voice of the older woman. But his steps seemed to stop in automatic mode when he heard your voice, it was sweet after sweet. His gaze fell quickly on your figure, you were ethereal, with a hint of mischief that he noticed, questioning if your perfect form was normal to see in a person.

And ironically, he proclaimed you a beautiful and heavenly Angel.

His heart pounded when you seemed to notice his presence, your eyes fell on his face in confusion. Jungkook bit his lip, his breath caught and unconsciously, he clenched his thighs to cover his growing erection. He thought he looked ridiculous standing in front of you without saying anything.

He felt strangely pathetic next to you.

"Who are you? Where is Mrs. Jang?" He asked defensively, surprising your innocent figure. But you never let your guard down.

"I'm sorry, but I'm only a substitute until Mrs. Jang manages to recover. Can I help you with something?"

Jungkook frowned, but only managed to nod with no idea what to do. He took a few steps back, realizing that he had invaded your personal space and cornered you between him and your desk. Anyone who saw them would think that they were close and even that they were having a lovers' quarrel.

I didn't want that. Taehyung was close to being his.

Jungkook looked at you with disdain, you were like a viper trying to tempt his masculine weakness.

But I am not unaware of the fact that I could smell your perfume of roses and vanilla. He was offended that Taehyung will not tell him that he is against someone young again. For a moment he feared that you would steal his position as his boss's right hand man, but that would be ridiculous. Thought. Taehyung was happy by his side, he appreciates him like a ... Little brother. He was trusted.

Nobody said Lucifer couldn't be a woman ...

The next few days weren't any better. Jungkook had his eyes glued to you at all times, counting the minutes when Taehyung called you at his office. How long will it take to leave from your entrance. And when it seemed like too long, he knocked on the door pretending to bring some important documents to sign. I could see you, when you were near your boss you had your head lowered. You were a submissive to him.

Jungkook felt envious, and far beyond, in a reprehensible jealousy of Taehyung. You never lowered your head when he came to greet you every day, nor when he ordered you to bring him a coffee and even less when he tried to embarrass you in front of the other people in the office.

But without a doubt, Jungkook came to hate you more than anyone in his monotonous life. You were a thief to him, you did your job so flawlessly that Taehyung had no choice but to give you the job of secretary. Your secretary. A smile was what adorned your lips every day, Jungkook cursed you a million different times.

You were a competition on their way to the heart of your beloved and perfect boss.

Nothing really changed after your acceptance as a secretary. Jungkook was cruelly trying to ignore you, but you never said anything to him or gave him a sign that he will affect you. Maybe deep down, I expected to see you destroyed by her rejection. Possibly, he thought ironically that he would seek him out asking forgiveness for any mistake you have made for such contempt, seeking to be to his liking again. However, nothing changed for you, you greet him politely, always with that charming look and smile of yours. Just like every day.

Then Jungkook did what seemed the least complicated to him.

He slowly gave up, walking straight to your table to start a conversation every morning, this time, ignoring calls from his boss needing him.

Taehyung was perfect. He put it on a pedestal, admiring its beauty every day as if it were a God.

But with you it was different. You weren't a Goddess to him, that would be stupid. For Jungkook to have you by his side, it was like giving him the privilege of being born again. You were more than his love, you were his life.

Jungkook lived for you. I existed to watch you, love you, make you happy. In its twisted and sick reality, everything you did revolved around his discretion. For he should always have been like that. Taehyung was nothing more than a cruel and beautiful distraction that fate put on him, proving his loyalty to you. Unfortunately he fell into it. His heart felt heavy in his chest, thinking of how long you must have been waiting for him. You must have been alone all that time.

Jungkook cried for you.

"Good morning, Jungkook-ah" Your voice, again.

His gaze was lost on your face. You were the most beautiful thing he had seen in his miserable years of life. He wondered if you, too, could feel his appreciation for you, or could you hear his rampant heartbeat.

Almost unconsciously, like the first time he clenched his thighs biting his lips to avoid being tempted to look past your fragile face. He had never been able to look at your body in a dirty way, but he did not deny wanting to do so. So he did it. His eyes inspected all of you, drinking in your sensuality as if you were a glass of water in front of him. Under your neck that was proud, you had a small necklace with your name written on it hanging and shining beautifully. Your collarbones rose beautifully, Jungkook felt an unreadable desire to want to bite the soft flesh of your neck leaving its marks on it as a sign that you were his. Only from him. Your white shirt was buttoned making a pout to form on her face, I wanted to see what color bra you were wearing that day. Maybe you were wearing something sexier under that stupid uniform, I guess you were ready for him, with some hidden lingerie, tempting him to take you to a bathroom in the building and fuck you foolishly while saying you were his over and over again.

"Are you feeling okay Jungkook-ah?" His gaze followed your body, which rose from your seat to approach him. For a moment he thought he could see your thighs protrude from the black fabric of your skirt that clung exquisitely to your body. His mind created thousands of scenarios where he would remove that garment to make you feel good, hitting you with his cock mercilessly.

Maybe I would let you touch it under the table at employee meetings that were held every week, if you let it mark your entire body with bites and bruises.

"You seem distressed, let me see if you have a fever." You say, without even realizing how his eyes are resting solely on your lips that he was dying to kiss and bite at will.

Jungkook knew that if he touched it, it would be the end. His cock stood up proudly creating a tent in his pants, he was grateful that you were so clueless that you never noticed that small but big problem. His eyes squeezed shut and his hand squeezed his crotch, he hunched over so you wouldn't notice he was coming into his pants with your gentle, harmless touch.

"I'm so sorry! Did I hurt you?" You asked again, even more concerned than before.

Jungkook smiled, trying to breathe normally again. Really naive.

He made fun of you, he liked to play pretend to be the mouse just like with Taehyung. In front of you, he was a sweet and gentle man.

It was fun trying to keep his intentions true, but clearly this was starting to get tedious.

A week had passed since the incident, that day he had to ask permission pretending to be sick in order to go home.

You had been worried about his condition, thinking that you could have helped him. That same night, you called his phone wishing him well soon and apologizing once again.

You were never smart enough to notice that Jungkook had his hand inside his pants touching hard just hearing your soft voice saying how sorry you were, you sounded so weak and vulnerable to him. He dreamed of hearing you again, this time begging for him to make you cum on him a thousand times, he knew you would be perfect for his big cock. Taking him like a big girl, like her perfect little one.

Jungkook was a greedy person. Below being a caring and kind man, he was selfish with his desires. He got bored seeing you for so little time during the day, it seemed as if you ran away from him when you left the large company building. Perhaps it was his greed that led him and condemned you to follow you every day, treading closely in your footsteps.

You lived in a small apartment complex, your house had one bedroom and one bathroom. Jungkook thought it was essential for you, you earned almost the same as him and you were certainly a practical person. Making him fall in love with you even more, he felt identified in a funny way. Ironic. When your figure was lost inside your apartment he felt furious, he could not help feeling angry for not being able to see more of you.

But his eyes noticed almost immediately that your apartment had a window, one that just faced another in front of the neighboring building. An enormous satisfaction invaded him. He collected as much money as he could, managing to raise two months of rent for the apartment in front of yours. That would be enough until he would bring you to his feet, and then he would move in with you living together as a normal couple. The man who owns the building was surprised by the persistent attitude of the young man in renting a specific apartment. But he quickly forgot about it when he saw the money in his hand.

"I hope you are not bothered by the noises, the walls are thin and there could be problems with that." The owner babbled, explaining and talking about things that honestly didn't matter to him as long as he could be around you.

Jungkook watched your apartment from the window, the window looked directly into your room. He felt a smile grow on his face, he could see your perfectly arranged bed and the products on your dressing table. Mentally he wrote down all the marks, he had become obsessed with your smell. Wanting to imitate everything about you as much as possible, he even followed you to the mall to see where you always bought your clothes. He began to wear the same brand of clothing, the same style and in the same way, your personal things. Like your skincare products, even your lipstick.

Their love had now turned into a sinister game of catching the helpless mouse. He followed you day and night, it was only a matter of time before you were at his feet begging not to be eaten by the evil cat.

You never liked the night blanket, you felt that the worst things could happen in the dark of one night. Your steps were hurried, you constantly felt a presence following your weak form knowing that you would do nothing to stop it. You were not capable. You only got to feel calm and let out a sigh when you got to your little house, it was cozy for just one person. You liked it, it had a unique charm. Your shoes fell to the ground, as did your coat and bag. You were exhausted, Taehyung was not the best boss. He seemed to have an obsession with making you run around for coffee or a simple napkin.

Secretly, it was obnoxious.

"You're here, little one ..." a voice whispered, watching you from a camera lens.

I had bought a whole spy gear, between cameras, lenses and more just to see you, possibly to take some photos as a souvenir as well. Jungkook smiled, biting his lip impatiently. He had arrived at his department at the same time as you, but his work was not finished yet, not until you lay on your bed turning off the light and preventing him from seeing you any longer. "Good girl." His eyes never left your figure, the first garment fell to the ground.

You had a habit of going straight to the bathroom to relax for a few minutes after a tiring day. You were not yet aware that dark brown eyes were watching you from afar. Jungkook had adorable eyes according to many, they were like those of a defenseless and tender deer, but they would surely change their opinion if they knew what he does and sees with them.

"_____..." Your name left his lips in a moan, his face heated feeling his cock grow slowly at the sight of your naked body so exciting, you walked to the bathroom, losing his sight. But his imagination did the rest.

He sat in front of his camera, pulling down his pants along with his boxer shorts releasing his cock that rose proudly, crashing against his stomach. The presemen came out of his reddened tip, he moved his hand using it as a lubricant to be able to touch himself, imagining that you were looking at him too, calling him and begging him to come to your house to be able to fuck you in your bed. Your neighbors probably wouldn't like the noise. But I would still screw you so they can hear who made you feel good. Who you belonged to.

Just those thoughts was enough for him to come all over his hand, staining his stomach and part of the ground. His chest rose and fell with a laugh. It sure was pathetic.

But now I felt like I had some kind of power over you. Maybe it was always like that, you were his from the day you greeted him for the first time. He refused to think that you could see him cheated on with his boss. It was ridiculous, you clearly loved him.

So, for Jungkook you were his lovers in body and soul.

He could and had the power to do whatever he wanted with you. Taehyung walked in front of him, but for the first time in two years he didn't feel happy or euphoric to see him, and less excited.

He also didn't feel different when he called him into his office.

"Sit down Mr. Jeon, I have some business to attend to with you."

He obeyed immediately, realizing that even he had a power over his weak form. No one was superior to the great Taehyung.

Ironically. He likes irony.

"Lately I was going through the files of my employees and noticed something very unique." He spoke fully focused on his speech, Jungkook felt uncomfortable under his dark and empty gaze. "You have been working here for more than two years without taking a vacation or leaving your position something very exceptional and admirable. Thank you very much for your commitment to us, Mr. Jeon."

A sigh left his lips, he wondered vaguely why his breathing seemed to fail thinking that they could fire him. That would be terribly chaotic, it could not be close to you if it were to be roofed by the company.

It was a relief for him and a condemnation for you.

"It really isn't important, Chief Kim. I will continue to do my job fervently and do my best." He responded with a smile and a bow, trying to get out as soon as possible. He wanted to see you and Taehyung was starting to make him more nervous than usual, he felt that characteristic feeling of having damn butterflies fluttering in his stomach.

He felt like vomiting.

"That seems incredible to me, I would like to celebrate your great achievements. You think if after work, I can buy you a... a drink." He offered remarkably animated.

Funny, he had never been interested in doing that even when Jungkook followed him around like a puppy seeking approval. Did change something now? "I think it would be fair."

Everyone fully says that Lucifer is a man, Eve was very tempted by the apple of sin ...

"I would be delighted, only if I can bring one more person. He is someone important to me, and I would like him to celebrate in the same way." Jungkook smiled, he was delighted.

Taehyung looked surprised, genuinely surprised. But still, he managed to maintain his composure. "Of course, it would be a pleasure to meet that special person to you. You can go now."

Jungkook nodded, giving another bow and walking patiently to the door.

Taehyung watched his figure get lost, he felt strangely curious. He had never seen Jungkook interested in anything other than his job. However, now he spoke of someone special in his life. He frowned, searching his desk for the keys to his drawer hidden from anyone.

It was a bit personal.

He opened it, taking out the only thing inside. A red letter, the envelope was charming and eye-catching. He remembered it just like that day, Jungkook kneeling on the floor of his office where silence reigned. I knew that little Jeon waited for everyone to leave so he could confess, he said nothing at all, his gaze on the ground and his hands held the letter in the air hoping that he would take it.

He never read it.

But he knew it was a confession of his unforgivable love, that Jungkook would think he could fire him for something so heinous. But it was never necessary, he never read the letter so there was never a mistake on anyone's part. But now he was curious.

Maybe jealousy, he wanted to have power over everyone within his company and if a puppet left his strings, it would be like losing power over everyone.

He was lost so much in his misery that he did not notice that you had entered without permission, you were in a hurry because he answered a call from an investor from China that you could not wait for him to answer.

"Mr. Kim, you have a call ..."

Business dinners were boring for you, you knew it was just a stupid look covering up a night in a restaurant where they met to drink as much alcohol as they could. Especially men, according to your criteria. You didn't feel comfortable being the third person on a date between a boss and an important employee. However, I politely accept Mr. Jeon's invitation.

You looked for the table, where dinner and a toast to all the achievements of the aforementioned was supposed to take place. It was one number in particular, table 69.

"Miss _____..." Jungkook was the first to get up from his place to say hello. Taehyung stayed still in his seat, not even looking up from his wine glass. "Have a seat please welcome."

You felt uncomfortable, again. You were the third wheel on a date of two, to say you were a hindrance was to be a joker. Your chair was closer to Jungkook, as if your boss wanted not to be near you by mistake.

"Do you want to order something? Some wine?" Jungkook seemed strangely nervous, as well as attentive to any of your movements.

As if he were afraid of something certainly improbable.

"A-water is fine, thanks." You whisper overwhelmed by so much attention from one person. His hands seemed to shake as he got up from his seat running to bring your precious order.

Taehyung looked at everything with skeptical eyes. He was an observer. His gaze fell on your clothes, you weren't necessarily wearing something revealing or provocative to have so much attention from his former platonic lovers. You were dressed in a black skirt, a honey colored blouse and a white scarf along with some black shoes. You looked comfortable with your clothes, but quite the opposite with the situation and the environment.

Jungkook was dumb. Very silly, he thought, reading your thoughts. You clearly weren't interested in him and still, he was struggling to get your approval as if you were better than Taehyung.

Did you even think about what you were so valuable?

Your name left his lips, drawing your attention right away. "Bored?" His question surprised you, perhaps he was more than observant.

"No, no ..." You reply nervously, waving your hands in the air to give yourself more credibility. "I just think I'm not the most appropriate person to take this place at this dinner. It's weird."

"I get it. You are nobody, just an employee trying to do your job ... not impressive, by the way." Your face was distorted, you were not the most correct person in a matter of manners but you were sure that that was completely offensive and rude. Your inner voice whispered for you to leave, it wasn't worth it. "You are free to go, I will tell Mr. Jeon that you felt bad and had an emergency."

Doubt grew within you. Right now you felt that everything that came out of his mouth was trying to attack you and hurt you in some way. You frowned, refusing to indulge in his game. To say that Taehyung was surprised was an understatement.

"I'm fine, but thank you Mr. Kim."

"Listen damned-..."

Jungkook returned to his place sitting next to you, Taehyung closed his mouth automatically fearing the worst of him. The glass of crystal clear water sat in front of you, it seemed as if it had searched for simple water for days when only a few minutes passed. He looked eager for you to bring him to your lips and drink from something brought by him.

It was terrifying.

Your hand refused to take the glass, your conscience screamed uncontrollably for you to drop it on the floor pretending to have an accident. It was a horribly euphoric feeling. When the water wet your tongue you felt dizzy, your nerves calmed down noticeably.

It was just water.

Jungkook kept smiling the entire dinner, talking about things you honestly didn't understand. It was as if he and Taehyung had a special language to speak to each other, one in which you weren't welcome.

"It feels good?" Your vision became blurry, you had drunk half a glass of wine but your head felt like a whirlpool. Strangely familiar. Your mouth suddenly felt dry, your breath failed and your eyes surrendered.

Jungkook screamed in horror when your body fell to the ground, Taehyung smugly watched as the people around you tried to get up scared by your state. He did not care much about me, nor did it affect him that Jungkook went with you to a hospital. He just sat there, finishing his glass of wine and his special dish. Curious eyes watched them intrigued.

A truly unique man.

Your head rested calmly on his shoulder, he finally smiled away from the pressure of the people in the restaurant. You seemed so peaceful with your steady breathing and calm rhythm, you were so close to him that he was afraid he couldn't wait until he got to his new home. The man who was driving observed in the rear-view mirror, they seemed like a very calm couple and it certainly created a chilling sensation as the young man sitting in his car touched your face as if he feared breaking you by accident. On cold nights like these, he preferred not to ask any questions of his clandestine and unknown clients, but he would always take that doubt about who he helped to escape his own problems.

The room specially chosen by him was decorated, every detail seemed to reflect your darkest tastes and those that everyone knew. It was beautifully scary like the books and pillow was a replica of what you always wanted. Jungkook was proud to have been able to get everything, his bank account was now just zeroes. He learned how useful money was if you saved enough, he hated people who used it without knowing or measuring what it might be worth later.

Your body fell on the giant bed, the sheets were soft and honey color like your blouse. Jungkook knew that you liked colors that will make you relax but you had no preference for one in particular. His curious eyes glowed in the dark, his hands daringly touched your body without fear of being rejected because you simply couldn't do it.

"You are mine, now." He whispered, his voice mingling with the silent screams of the night. The moon was shining hungrily illuminating the room, but not enough to impede what was impossible to stop. "Sleep, sleep a lot. I could wait for you forever."

His promises remained in the air and on deaf ears. With selfishness in his heart, he rose above you positioning himself above you allowing his face to fall on your neck where he sipped from your charming scent that tempted him to follow. Your legs were side by side on his hips, he brought his body closer to yours. He couldn't bear to go on pretending to be the good guy, he was the only one.

"Please do not leave me..."

His sobs were trapped between the four walls, he was sick. He begged for forgiveness. Mercy he did not deserve. I was hoping that you could see him again directly as always, with a smile and your soft voice wishing him a good morning.

His calm, gentle kisses turned desperate, angry, and somewhat cruel. Leaving exaggerated marks all over your body, I wish it long ago. However, he was never heard.

Now he had what he wanted.

He felt complete by your side. His parents loved him as if they depended on their love, but they were certainly false in his head. Jungkook happily recalled how they prevented him from using his own money, how they seemed to put walls in front of him to prevent him from going to live alone, and how they rejected that he was in love with someone of the same gender.

His father called it disgusting and a shame, his mother was silent crying in his hands covering her grief.

Their bodies were never discovered. The police felt useless in front of their eyes, they apologized for their incompetence. They had fallen off a bridge where they always went to pray, where Jungkook knew they were asking for forgiveness and then committing the same sins again.

He planned his move cunningly, moving his pieces one by one.

He amused himself like a child killing a pawn of his competition.

He made an account of his crimes, his parents, Taehyung's best friend who was the harmless Park Jimin, his boss's former secretary who after being fired was strangely run over by a car that was never discovered, also remembers your insolent neighbor who seemed to enjoy stalking you, Jungkook remembers how I completely hate him. His hands on her neck made it clear when she hated him, he was disgusting.

He applauded happily, he felt very good about himself seeing that he made up his mind about so many people who for him were a plague in this world. It was like a child receiving a gift, his hands took the pen on his desk writing the last name on his list for now. Red ink stained the paper, a smile invaded his face.

𝓚𝓲𝓶 𝓣𝓪𝓮𝓱𝔂𝓾𝓷𝓰.

A gasp left his lips watching your figure move on the bed, he got up from his seat to watch you wake up. You looked so innocent, but now you were stained.

You carried her future child within you, he tried very hard to get you pregnant. You never noticed how he always managed to put powdered sleeping pills in your food every night since he got tired of just looking at you. Then he only had to enter your house like a ghost, his moans of pleasure were silent as he collided with you, fucking you hard with the thought and idea that you would carry his son in your womb.

So, you would never want to leave.

You will learn to love the monotony of being the wife and mother of Jeon Jungkook's son.

After all, he was never a fool.

#bts #bts yandere #yandere bts #bts smut #jungkook yandere #yandere kpop #yandere bts au #yandere!bts #yandere #jungkook #jungkook smut #kpop #jungkook bts

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goldenraeofsun · 4 years ago

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There is Only Try, Part I

“Love spell,” Rowena proclaims as she glides down the stairs to the Bunker floor like it’s her personal ballroom. Her midnight blue floor-length gown and elaborately curled hair look especially out of place - Dean’s pretty sure his shirt has pizza stains from at least three different pizzas. The shirt is red, so at least two of them don’t count.

Behind her on the stairs, Sam chokes.

Rowena turns around to face him. “And I thought this was going to be a challenge,” she chides. “Really, Samuel?”

“What do you mean, ‘love spell’?” Dean demands with a fleeting glance at Cas, who’s gone red in the face. Dean doesn’t blame him - between the hooker with the daddy problems and the stabby reaper, he’d be leery of anything vaguely love-shaped too.

“We called you because we need to translate the runes on a cursed box,” Sam says slowly. “We think it’s in some sort of cipher, since even Cas can’t get a read on it.”

“Well, did Tweety Pie touch the box?”

“No,” Cas says, offended.

Dean nudges him with his elbow, saying in an undertone, “C’mon, like it wouldn’t be the first time.”

“Dean.”

Dean takes in Cas’s unamused face and scowls at Rowena's tinkling laugh. “Okay, Sabrina, what the fuck do you mean by ‘love spell’?”

“I mean the angel’s been cursed with a love spell,” Rowena says with deliberate slowness, like she’s giving a command to a particularly stupid lap dog. “Was it not obvious?”

Dean glances at Cas, horror trickling down his spine. “No.”

“Hmph,” Rowena sniffs. “Men really are oblivious to matters of the heart.” She waves her hand again, eyes glimmering violet. “Like I thought,” she continues, placing both hands on her hips, “A jardin d’amour.”

“A garden of,” Sam pauses, clearly trying not to laugh, “love?”

“A very basic love spell,” Rowena says disdainfully. “The lass didn’t seem to have any imagination.”

“The witch we ganked two weeks ago was a dude,” Dean says. A beat. “A man witch.”

Sam snorts.

“There you go,” Rowena says, lifting her nose into the air. “Most men don’t have that innate knack for the magical arts.” She turns to Sam, giving him the most obvious come-hither look Dean has ever seen. “There are some obvious exceptions, of course.”

Okay, Dean needs Rowena and her heebs with a large dosing of the jeebs out of the Bunker, stat.

“It starts as a tiny seed, a wee obsession,” Rowena explains, “and grows and grows until it consumes you.” She squints, wiggling her fingers, and Dean just barely stops himself from jumping in front of Cas on instinct. “I’d say the spell’s gone about halfway through its course.”

Dean crosses his arms over his chest. He throws another calculating glance at Cas. “He’s not writing love songs or grabbing a boombox, so he’s obviously not cursed.”

Cas, still suspiciously silent, shoves both his hands in his pockets and stares hard at a spot of the floor between his feet.

“Oh, but he is, darlin’,” Rowena exclaims delightedly. “I can see it clear as day. Look!”

Cas sneezes as the magic washes over him for a third time, and now they all can see the purple sparkles - really, Rowena? - hovering in the air around him.

“Okay,” Dean makes a face, “Now I’m confused.”

“Not for the first time, isn’t that right?” Rowena says with faux-sympathy.

Dean glowers. He turns to Cas. “Come on, she’s making this all up. You’d know if you got dosed with Love Potion No. 9.”

“I-” Cas says, his gaze skittering from Dean to Rowena and back again. He looks… caught.

“Wait,” Dean thunders, taking a step forward, “You knew?”

“I,” Cas starts haltingly, “had suspected.”

“And you didn’t think you’d tell us you’d been whammied?”

Cas shrugs. “It doesn’t seem to be affecting me at all. My vessel is functioning normally.”

“Sure, because you’re such an expert on normal-”

Cas’s eyes flash. “It didn’t seem relevant considering everything else-”

“What d’you mean every-?”

“Kelly Kline - Lucifer, again - the British Men of Letters - take your pick,” Castiel retorts heatedly.

“We’ve got that under control-”

“Killing a child is not ‘under control’-”

“It is if the kid’s the literal spawn of Satan-”

“I never thought I’d hear Dean Winchester defending the murder of an inno-”

Dean throws up his hands. “Did you miss my ‘spawn of Satan’ comment?”

“No,” Cas says, his expression as stony as the Bunker’s foundations, “my hearing is excellent.”

Off to the side, Rowena mutters in a carrying stage-whisper, “I can see how a wee curse like this is the least of your problems.”

“Yeah, no shit,” Sam says, running a weary hand down his face.

Dean rounds on them. “What?”

“Do you want me to remove the love spell or not?” Rowena asks, eyebrows raised. “My time is precious, you know. I don’t live to be at the Winchesters’ beck and call.”

“For the last fucking time, it’s not a goddamn spell!” Dean explodes. “Whatever it is, he is not in love. He hasn’t been acting any different.”

Rowena beams. “Well now, if he were already in love, it would have no outward effects. He’d…” Her expression becomes stomach-turningly sly, “...function normally, so to speak.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a firm line. As Dean goggles at him, Cas demands, “Remove the spell, now.”

Dean swallows. Cas can’t be - she can’t be implying - that’s impossible. He’s an angel. They don’t feel things like that.

Do they?

“I’m going to need some ingredients,” Rowena says, looking up to Sam. “Where might they be?”

Sam gestures her forward. “Back in the store room, I’ll show you.”

Rowena pats him lightly on the arm. “What a gentleman,” she simpers as Dean pretends to hurl behind her back.

Dean can’t bring himself to speak until they’re both out of earshot, their footsteps fading off into the distance. He turns to Cas, trying to keep his voice detached and failing miserably. “So, you think it got you after all?”

Cas looks away. “I know it has.”

“Oh.” Dean picks up his empty whiskey glass. He runs a hand down his face, trying to scrub away whatever he’s feeling. It doesn't work. “I don’t know about you, but I could use a drink. Fucking witches.”

“I - I could use one as well,” Cas says to Dean’s surprise.

* * *

“So, uh, who’s the lucky chick?” Dean asks as he makes a beeline for the liquor cart in the library off the war room. He grabs an additional glass for Cas and the bottle of Jack, tips the bottle down his own throat to get them started, and pours them out a few fingers.

Cas takes his drink, jaw clenching. He doesn’t look like a dude head over heels. He looks like his normal sleep-deprived, tax accountant self. He stays silent.

Dean thumps heavily down into a chair. “Have we met her?” he prompts because he’s nothing if not a masochist at heart.

“You could say so, in a sense.” Cas raises his eyes to meet Dean’s, face softening, and Dean’s going to hurl for real this time. Cas continues, “There’s not much in my life I keep from you.”

Dean swallows against the ball of self-loathing and disgust clogging his throat. “Some lady angel, then? Been dreaming about plucking her harp strings?”

Cas scowls into his drink. “No.”

“Not an angel?”

“Not a lady,” Cas says, his voice almost unbearably stiff. “And not an angel, either. A human - a beautifully flawed human.”

Dean has no words to say to that, so he drinks. Cas has probably met thousands of people - nice, normal people who aren’t fucked up in the head from ganking monsters their whole lives - since he’s been on Earth. God knows, he hasn’t been plastered to Dean’s side the entire time. Lately, Dean can’t even come up with a good excuse to get him to stay for more than a day or two at most.

“A guy, then,” Dean says to make sure they’re on the same page - because last time he checked, waves of celestial intent cared less about acing a Gender and Sexuality 101 class and more about whether a meatsuit could withstand a holy oil molotov cocktail.

Cas nods, his eyes narrowing. “Your opinion on homosexual relationships is part of the reason I’ve never brought it up before.”

“Hey, I don’t judge,” Dean says, not entirely truthfully. He holds his hands up in a gesture of innocence. “Homo it up, man. Love is love.”

Cas’s nose wrinkles, but he doesn’t comment on Dean’s hamfisted attempt at proving his acceptance of ‘alternative lifestyles’ as Dad might’ve put it charitably one time. “It’s complicated,” Cas adds, like any part of this fucked-up situation could fit under a goddamn Facebook status.

Dean hitches a grin on his face that probably wouldn’t fool a blind person. “So, apart from that, how come you’ve never come to me for help? I don’t wanna brag, but I’m kind of an expert in hookups. Sam’s kind of hopeless. He can’t get a chick into bed without her dying on him.”

Cas knocks back his glass. “I didn’t want to bother you with my feelings.”

Dean automatically grimaces at the mention of feelings. But, hell, he’s not a teenage girl. He can man up and be there for his best friend.

He has to - Cas hardly asks him for anything anymore.

Sure, Cas didn’t exactly ask Dean for anything this time around, but Dean can read between the lines. Now that he’s copped to what’s going on beneath Cas’s still waters, he can see how deep those feelings run. Especially if what Rowena’s saying is true and a love spell is barely a drop in the bucket.

“And, regardless, your ‘hookup’ skills wouldn’t be relevant, anyway,” Cas says quietly, lowering his hands. “I’m not interested in… coupling.”

Dean wrinkles his nose. “That reaper really screwed you over, didn’t she? Look, just because you got shanked, doesn’t mean all sex winds up with an angel blade-”

“I misspoke,” Cas says over him. “What I mean is, I would rather have no sexual relations at all if I cannot have all of him: mind, body, and soul.”

Trust Cas to spout the most profound cheese Dean has ever heard.

And also, what the fuck? Dean can’t get behind that idea at all. Dean’s always been a take what you can get kind of dude. He had to be, with what he has to work with - a pretty face, a killer's instinct, and an inability to have a normal relationship if his goddamn life depended on it.

Like, if Dean had gotten the slightest whiff that Cas was down with gettin’ down and dirty with Dean as his last hurrah (which of course he didn’t), Dean would never have bothered with that stupid den of inequity. As hilarious as the outcome was, he would have gone for a little something-something for himself before the end of the world.

Of course, Dean wasn’t in love with Cas yet then. Whenever it came to mind, it was just a fun thought experiment, an idle what if for him to think about during a dry spell. Like his fantasies about fucking Ginger from Gilligan’s Island. Or hatesex with Bela Talbot.

But none of that mattered because every step of the way from Castiel, mighty Angel of the Lord, to Cas, their friendly neighborhood angel-man, he never hinted he’d be down for a quick roll in the hay... or something more serious.

Dean remembers very clearly: Anna fell to experience emotions, even the bad ones.

And Dean’s not an idiot - Cas obviously experiences emotions now. Dude’s been through too much not to feel something. But Dean’s never deluded himself that they could ever include all the romantic lovey-dovey, chick-flick moments crap.

Family love, sure. Cas might love all his haloed siblings. Cas has been around for all the Top 10 worst decisions that are the Winchesters’ version of brotherly devotion. Cas even said the big L-word out loud himself, when he was bleeding out in that barn a month ago.

But romantic love? The big kahuna L-O-V-E?

Dean always thought scaling Mount Everest with a plastic beach shovel would be easier than convincing an angel to feel that way about anyone. Cas is a wave of celestial intent; waves of celestial intent don’t do anything as human, as stupid, as fall in love.

But apparently they do.

So maybe that’s why Cas has always been so hard to pin down, so eager to leave Dean all the time. He’s been off pining after this mystery guy.

Awesome.

Cas heaves a weighty sigh and finishes off his own glass of whiskey. Without another word, he half raises from his chair, reaching around the table lamp, to pour them both a second round. “I suppose there is a bit of a relief in finally saying it,” he says in a low voice. “I can’t be with him, but there is a certain amount of happiness in it being known, just being seen.”

Dean wastes no time in downing half his new drink. Throat burning in warning, he forces out, “Why - why can’t you? You’re a freaking angel - thought you could have anyone.” Dean frowns. “He’s not a civilian, is he?”

Talk about a recipe for disaster: Cas plus normal person equals uncomfortable questions and fucked up babysitting gigs.

Cas’s eyes widen. Almost imperceptibly, he shakes his head. “Ah, no, not really.”

“So he knows about angels.”

Cas gives a slow nod. “He doesn’t have a very high opinion of them, though,” he says ruefully, staring down into his glass. “They’ve made his life very difficult over the past few years.”

Dean scoffs, “He can join the club.”

Cas flinches.

“Hey, no,” Deans says quickly, “Not you.”

Cas raises head, his eyes unbearably bleak. “Why not me? I was the one who set the Leviathans and angels loose on humanity to wage their wars, among a dozen other transgressions.” He adds morosely, “Sometimes I wonder if it would have been better if a different angel rescued you from Hell after all.”

Dean blinks at Cas, his stomach turning over with dread at the very idea. He tries to picture some nameless angel yanking him out of the Pit or marching into that barn with all the righteousness of Heaven on his heels. Dean can’t do it.

Or worse, not a nameless angel. Uriel, who was ready to kill thousands without a second thought. Zachariah, that dickwad with the mind games. Even Hannah, who Dean reluctantly liked - he still can’t see her sticking by their side, falling, sacrificing everything for them.

Cas is their third wheel, the stabilizer that keeps Team Free Will upright and moving forward. Without him, they’re a tandem bicycle, and nobody wants a repeat of that opening scene from Gabriel’s sitcom from Hell.

“Yeah, but at least you always tried to do the right thing.”

“There is no try, only what I did or did not do,” Cas answers with a strange, defeated expression.

“Okay, but,” Dean starts, rolling his eyes at Cas’s butchered Star Wars reference, “Yoda’s a lot of things, but applicable to the real world without space lasers, he is not. Sometimes the only thing you can do is try, dude.”

God knows, Dean could never have forgiven Cas for any of the shit he pulled if he hadn’t been 100% positive Cas had the best of intentions. Cas did all those things to save the world, and, sometimes, to save Dean personally. Which gives him the girliest, fuzzy feelings and also makes him want to punch a wall.

Cas throws him a pitying look. “Every time I ‘try’ to make things better, I fail.” He shakes his head. “When you were taken, I searched for months to find you. Kelly escaped on my watch, and I couldn't find her. I’m a… dumbass.”

“I thought you preferred ‘trusting,’” Dean jokes, and it only sounds a little forced.

Cas throws him an exasperated look. “Perhaps a few years ago. But now? I’ve made too many mistakes, and people have suffered - you and Sam have suffered - as a result. You don’t need to spare my feelings, Dean. It’s hardly what I deserve.”

Dean frowns, tapping his fingers against his glass as he takes in Cas's defeated air. “Hey, what’s with the pity party?”

“It’s not a ‘pity party’,” Cas counters. “These are basic facts.”

Dean leans forward, bracing his elbows on the table. “You aren’t serious.”

Cas stares back. “Why wouldn’t I be?”

Dean rakes his gaze up and down Cas’s face, looking for a break, for a tell - even though he knows he won’t find any. “You saved the world. A couple of times by now.”

“I also personally put it in jeopardy more than once,” Cas mutters. “I trusted Crowley to steal Purgatory. I trusted Metatron to bring peace to Heaven. I trusted Lucifer to take out the Darkness.”

Dean’s heart sinks with every reminder of Cas’s greatest hits. “Come on…”

Cas’s mouth thins, lips pressing together as he raises his glass to his mouth. “You don’t need to stay to keep me company, either,” he says in a low voice. “I’m the one under the spell. If you have anything more pressing, I can wait here for Rowena.”

“Shut up,” Dean says automatically. “I’m not going anywhere.”

Cas exhales a weighty sigh, his shoulders losing some of their tension.

“Hey, what you need - hell, what we both need - is a win,” Dean says reassuringly. “Everything’s been such shit, you need a reminder to keep going.” He gets up from his seat, his legs itching to move. “Why don’t you tell me more about that man of yours?” he asks quickly, his words nearly tripping over themselves to get out before the regret sets in. “Maybe that’s the key to getting your head back in the game.”

Cas doesn’t say anything as Dean moves to peruse a row of books he has no intention of ever reading. Eventually, Cas protests without much conviction, “My head is in the game. I am still useful.”

Dean’s head jerks around so fast it nearly gives him whiplash. “That’s not what I meant.”

“It isn’t?” Cas asks, head tilting in confusion.

Dean makes a face. “I mean, if you’re feeling down, you… shouldn’t.”

“I don’t understand.”

Dean paces to the other end of the bookshelf, unbelievably annoyed at Cas for making him spell it out for him. “Forget it,” Dean says instead. “I still owe you for ganking Billie-”

“But the cosmic consequences-”

“Will suck, but in the meantime you saved our lives. I owe you.” Dean turns so he’s back to fully facing Cas. “So, tell me what this mystery guy is into.”

Cas’s eyes narrow at him. “I’d prefer not to talk about it.”

“Seriously?”

Cas straightens and nods.

“But,” Dean says, words failing as he wars with himself. He could push Cas for more info or keep on living in blissful ignorance. But if he has to choose between his own personal peace of mind or Cas experiencing the one pinnacle of human happiness (or so Dean’s been told in countless chick flicks he’ll take to the grave), it’s no choice at all. He starts again, “If you tell me about him, it’ll make this a lot easier.”

“I don’t want it to be easier,” Cas says, baffled. “I don’t want this to be anything.”

Dean gapes. “Why the hell not?”

Cas taps his empty glass on the table, irritated. “Please, leave it alone.”

“No,” Dean says mulishly. “I wanna help you, man.”

“I don’t want any help.”

“Well, tough shit because you’re getting it anyway. You’re family-”

Cas’s face does a weird spasm.

“-And that’s what you do for family,” Dean continues, a little confused and insulted. They are family; Cas said so, back when he thought he was dying in Ramiel’s barn.

“Drop it.”

“No,” Dean argues, shoving down everything else as his temper rises. “You’re hurtin’, and I can help. Why don’t you trust me? You trusted Crowley, Metatron, fucking Lucifer-”

Too far. Shit.

Cas whirls around, his face a mask of frustration and an emotion Dean has never seen before. “I did, and you know what? They screwed me. And, please forgive me, Dean, but I am tired of being used and used up, over and over.”

Dean blinks, his anger falling away to a raw hurt only Cas can dredge up. “I wouldn’t do that to you.”

Cas runs a weary hand down his face. He just shakes his head.

“C’mon, Cas, it’s me,” Dean says - pleads, really. “You know me better than anyone else, ’cept Sammy. I won’t do something like that.”

Cas glares. “I do know you, so I know that is exactly what will happen.”

Dean reels back, and he can’t save himself in time before an undoubtedly pained look spreads across his face.

Cas’s hostility cracks, but Dean’s already gotten the message.

So Cas’s one big happy loving family message was only a deathbed thing. That’s… fine. Dean’s done it himself, a time or two. Told Sam to live his life and not go looking for revenge or a way to fix it - all a crock of horse shit, of course. He should’ve figured Cas was more human than angelic with that poison pumping through his veins, making him all weak and sweaty. ’Course he wasn’t above feeling human sentimentality in his death throes.

Face hardening, Dean turns on his heel. “You were right about one thing. I guess I do have more important things to do than staying here with you.”

“Dean,” he hears behind him, but Dean doesn’t look back.

* * *

Dean always hides a spare bottle of booze in the bottom drawer of the desk in his bedroom. It's mostly empty, but, hopefully, by the time Dean's polished it off, Cas’ll be cured, Rowena will be gone, and they all can pretend this never happened - Dean can pretend that Cas stopped keeping secrets because he’s learned they always blow up in his face in the past six years.

Anyway.

First, the booze.

Dean’s barely wrestled the top off with shaking fingers of leftover anger when a knock sounds against his door.

“’S the witch gone yet?” Dean asks without lifting his head.

The door opens. “Dean, it’s me.”

Dean takes a long pull of whiskey.

Cas sighs, audible in the stuffy, tension-filled space between them. He doesn’t approach, instead hovering in the doorway, and isn’t that how it always goes? Always poised for flight, that’s Cas. “Dean,” he repeats, which only makes Dean's blood boil that much hotter.

“What?” he demands. “What do you want now? ’Cause I can’t think of a single thing you need from me, Cas.”

Cas presses his lips together. “You’re making this very difficult.”

“Me?” Dean barks incredulously. “You’re the one hiding things and not letting me help you.”

“You won’t accept this is one area in which you can’t help?” Cas asks quietly.

Dean makes a scoffing noise in the back of his throat.

Cas shakes his head, his gaze focusing on Dean’s face with his patented laser intensity. “You have no idea what you’re asking for.”

“Yeah, I’m just a jackass who can’t get a lady to stick around for more than a few hours. I get it.” He glances up to see Cas’s stricken expression. Frowning, Dean looks away.

Cas steps tentatively into Dean’s room, his face weirdly apprehensive. “That’s not what I meant at all.”

“Sure,” Dean says, tipping the bottle back like it’s water because he needs to be so much drunker to deal with Cas and his love spell bombshells right now.

Cas hovers awkwardly by Dean’s desk, his hands shoved into his coat pockets. “You’re so capable of love.”

“Cas-” Dean starts, but he has no idea where he’s going with this.

Cas keeps talking, thank God. “You don’t acknowledge that side of you very often, but I feel it every time we see each other, every time you’re with your brother. You care, you love, so wholly and completely.” Cas chuckles ruefully. “I didn’t realize it for a few years. I didn’t see how unique it was, how special you are, but you are the most selfless, loving human being I will ever know.”

Dean’s tongue finally unsticks from the roof of his mouth. Face flaming hotter than the inferno where he first met Cas eight years ago, he rasps out, “Cas - what the hell are you saying?”

Cas swallows, dragging his gaze back up to meet Dean’s wide eyes. “The reason I didn’t tell you about the love spell was because it couldn’t make me love you any more than I already do.”

Dean blinks, dumbfounded, at Cas, the words love you bouncing around his skull like a blocked radio signal. Cas said them; Dean heard them with his own two ears; but the meaning behind the words is getting lost in transmission.

As Dean’s brain struggles to make sense of just about everything, Cas nods once. “Well, now you know. I’ll go wait for Rowena’s cure in the kitchen.”

And then he leaves.

Dean slams the whiskey bottle down on his desk, cursing as it nearly topples over in his haste. He sets it right, swearing more as precious seconds pass by. He hurtles down the hall, half-convinced Cas lied to him to get a head start and is really halfway to Timbuktu.

But Dean finds Cas in the library, sitting more or less where he left him before Dean had his little wallowing session in his bedroom.

“Cas!” Dean blurts, skidding to a halt and grabbing onto the edge of the table for support.

Cas looks up, frowning. “I - “ he gives himself a little shake and starts again, “Is Rowena having trouble with the spell?”

“What?” Dean strides forward on shaky legs. “No - I mean, I don’t know. They could be fucking in a supply closet for all I care.”

Cas’s eyebrows shoot towards his hairline. For the first time today, he looks almost afraid. “Then why are you here?” he asks, his gaze darting towards the stairs to the exit. “I’m only going to stay in the Bunker until Rowena can finish. Then I will go.”

“Go?” Dean repeats, a spike of panic shooting up his spine. “You can’t.”

Cas inhales a sharp breath. “You want me to stay?”

“You want to bail?” Dean demands, his voice rising.

Cas pinches the bridge of his nose between his thumb and index finger. “You’re upset. This is why I didn’t want to tell you.”

“I’m not fucking upset!”

Cas throws him an unimpressed look. “You clearly are. Your pulse is rising. Your pupils are dilated. I can smell your elevated levels of adrenaline.”

Dean makes a face. “Dude - lines - crossed.”

“Fine,” Cas says, his face set. He gets up. “I can coordinate with Rowena at a later date. She should focus on the cursed box, anyway. It’s clearly a more pressing concern and the reason we called her in the first place.”

“Hey.” Dean takes a step forward. “Wait.”

Cas’s mouth sets in a thin line. “What do you want, Dean? I did as you asked. I told you the spell could only latch onto my feelings for you.”

Dean falters, his words failing him.

Cas’s shoulders slump. “I did warn you, you know,” he murmurs, trying to pass Dean on his way towards the door.

Dean grabs onto Cas’s bicep before he can disappear. “Gimme a moment. What you said - it’s a lot.”

Miracle of miracles, Cas stops.

Dean can practically feel the power thrumming underneath the trench coat sleeve in his grip, but Cas wordlessly lets Dean guide him back to the library table.

“Okay,” Dean starts, his head still mercilessly void of the right thing to say, “So that guy, the one you’re - well, it’s - he’s me?” he asks, stumbling over his words like he hasn’t since that one time Rhonda Hurley opened her underwear drawer.

Cas nods once, his face impossibly solemn.

“Right,” Dean grunts. He rubs at his chin, Cas watching the whole while. “That’s - wow.”

“Quite,” Cas says wryly.

“Hey, don’t be a dick,” Dean shoots back. “I had no idea.”

“That was the point,” Cas sighs. “But now you do.”

“Yeah,” Dean says, feeling like a tongue-tied idiot. If only he could be more like Cas with the grand declarations.

Cas opens his mouth, pausing for a beat before saying, “I was never intending to leave permanently. I will still help you figure out how to deal with Kelly Kline. I will still assist with research, translations, anything you need.” His blue eyes bore into Dean’s face. “I can still be useful.”

Dean’s chest aches. “Didn’t I tell you it wasn’t about that?” he asks gruffly.

Cas’s earnest expression falters. “Of course,” he says, subdued. “Regardless, know that I am always willing to help the Winchesters.”

“Jesus,” Dean mutters, “This isn’t - it’s never been - about you being goddamn useful.” He huffs an exasperated breath, frowning harder as Cas doesn’t immediately get it and launch himself at Dean.

God, that would make this so much easier.

“What you want?” Dean says, glaring daggers at the tabletop between them, “That whole, mind, body, soul crap? You got it.”

Cas blinks. “I’m sorry?”

“You already have it,” Dean says through gritted teeth.

Cas cocks his head like a perplexed chicken, still as clueless as ever.

It’s clearly time to bring out the big guns. If Cas is going to spout pretty speeches that steal Dean’s breath away and leave him weak-kneed but not actually, you know, make a move, Dean will just have to do everything himself.

Fine. That’s how he’s always operated, anyway.

Face determined, he leans over and grasps the lapels of Cas’s trench coat.

Cas leans back a fraction, his eyes widening in alarm or shock. But before he can utter another word, Dean brings their mouths together.

Cas takes a moment to get with the program. There’s a split-second (that lasts several years) when Cas almost seems to push Dean off him, but he kisses back before Dean can yank himself away first. Cas’s mouth is tentative against Dean’s, like he’s waiting for Dean to end it all and yell, “Got ya!”, but he unseals his lips with a light sigh as Dean gently parts them with his tongue.

Dean unclenches one hand from Cas’s lapel. He reaches up to cup Cas’s jaw, the raspy stubble a physical reminder of the goddamn win he’s finally getting. His knees twinge from awkwardly leaning over, but rampaging Leviathans could burst into the kitchen and Dean wouldn’t give any less of a fuck.

He has Cas right where he wants him, and he’s going to fucking savor it for as long as he can.

When Cas pulls away, his face shows nothing but pure confusion. “Why?” he breathes, raising a finger to touch his lips.

Dean, still half-standing, half-leaning over him, frowns. He falls back to his seat with a thump. “Because you weren’t going to do it first?”

Cas blinks. “I didn’t think you wanted anything like that,” he pauses, “with me.”

Like there’s anyone else around who wants to get real up close and personal with the most dumbass angel in the garrison.

“Yeah, well,” Dean says, the faintest inklings of embarrassment creeping in now they’re not kissing anymore and Cas’s first reaction isn’t to look like he got free tickets to Disneyland. “I did. Do.”

“Oh.”

Dean swallows past the lump in his throat.

Cas looks away from Dean for the first time, and Dean dies a little inside. Stiffy, Cas says, “If this is some misguided attempt to show your sympathy for my situation. I don’t appreciate the gesture.”

“Gesture?” Dean echoes, “What the hell are you on, man? I don’t kiss random dudes because I feel bad for them, Christ.”

“Then why?”

Dean grimaces. “You’re really going to make me say it?”

“Yes,” Cas says quickly, his gaze raking up and down Dean’s face. “I have misunderstood your actions in the past, and I have no desire to do it again.”

Dean groans. “Look, I didn’t think angels could have feelings like that.” He runs a hand through his hair. “Or I would’ve… done something about it sooner,” he says, and that’s mostly true. Probably would’ve tried to seduce Cas, failed, and then jumped off a cliff, but Cas doesn’t need to know that.

“Well, normal angels can’t,” Cas says, “but there’s something broken in me.”

“You’re not broken,” Dean swears loudly, his anger flaring. “You’re… better. A new and improved God Squad, far as I can tell.” He narrows his eyes, daring Cas to talk shit about himself one more time.

Cas bites his lip. “You truly mean it.”

Dean tries for a mocking leer, but it comes out more like a dopey, hopeful smile. “You wanna get it engraved? Put up in neon in the Dean cave?” he asks, eyebrows raised as excitement courses through his veins. Cas loves him. Dean can make good on all those what ifs that have been plaguing him for years. “Tattooed on my ass?”

Cas chuckles lightly. “That would be a start.”

Dean lets out a bark of laughter. He can already feel the insecurities looming on the horizon. There’s always a catch: Cas never stays; Cas might want Dean now, but he’ll fly away the moment Dean fucks up because he has no idea what he’s doing.

But none of that matters right now.

He kissed Cas.

And Cas didn’t smite him. Didn't tell him to fuck off. Didn't flutter off to the moon for shits and giggles.

Cas knows him, knows him better than anyone except Sam. And despite all the fucked up shit in Dean's head, Cas is staying anyway, with his eyes wide open like nobody else Dean has ever been with.

Cas smiles in return. “If I had known a love spell would result in this outcome, I would have sought out that witch ages ago.”

And just like that, all Dean’s happy-ending fantasies come to a screeching halt.

Read Part II here!

#destiel fanfic #profoundnet #fanfic #destiel #rae writes fic #canon divergence #season 12 #love spell au #minor samwitch #there is only try

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animeyanderelover · 4 years ago

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Alright! Let's see how this would turn out! Prompt 30 with Hisoka?! Whenever you have time. No rush!

I can see why you chose this prompt for him.

Warnings: Yandere themes, unhealthy mindset, unhealthy relationship, possessiveness, obsessiveness, sadism, masochism, stalking, death, kidnapping

Prompt 30: “I desire any physical touch with you so please hit me more.”

“Hisoka!!! Where are you?!?! Come out you goddamn bastard so I can punch the living shit out of you!!!” These were the first words as soon as you woke up and were able to think clearly again. You were tied to a chair in an empty and tall room. Damn it! You were supposed to have a fight at the Heavens Arena by now! You had already been on the 200th floor! But when you had went there for your fight you had suddenly noticed Hisoka standing behind you. You had never liked this guy, having noticed that he had been watching you since you had reached the 50th floor. You had heard from every person in this place that you should stay away from Hisoka because he was...special. But how the hell could you avoid someone who seemed to always watch you from the distance?! At first he had only watched you from the distance, but after some time he had started to get in contact with you. After only one minute with him you had realized why everyone had warned you about him. Because he was an ass! When you had at one point lost your patience and had tried to attack him he had simply told you that you still weren’t ripe yet and he needed to enjoy you when you had riped into the sweetest you could ever be. For some reason it sounded like he meant that in more than just one way. When you had started attacking him he had simply disappeared, probably because he didn’t want to hurt you before you were “riped” or in other words, until he saw you as worthy to fight against.

It had gotten out of hand when this guy had suddenly started to appear in your room. You didn’t even know how he had managed to always get into your rooms, but there were a lot of things you didn’t know about him. The problem had been that you had never known when exactly he would suddenly appear. It could be when you had been just chilling, sleeping, eating, hell, he had even once walked straight into your bathroom whilst you had tried to relax your sore muscles after a fight with a relaxing bubble bath. Thanks goodness the bubbles had covered all your private parts. You could see how intense Hisoka was staring at the bubbles, obviously wishing to see more. You had literally blown him out of the room with your Nen ability, hoping to cause this guy some serious damage and you definitely hadn’t excepted to hear a moan from him, sounding like it came directly out of a porno. You had waited for him to come back into the room, but that hadn’t happened. You hadn’t been able to relax anymore after that.

When you had finally reached the 200th floor this guy had already been waiting for you, trailing behind you the whole time whilst teasing the living hell out of you, trying to make you angry. But after the incident in the bathroom you had come to the conclusion to just ignore him. And that had clearly annoyed him after some time. He had really tried everything to get a reaction from you, but for once you had kept your cool, ignoring him even though there had been many times when you had almost lost it. But after some time he stopped suddenly all of his interactions with you and you had thought of it as your victory, but how wrong you had been. You had started fighting against others in the 200th floor, hoping that you could avoid Hisoka. And everything looked like it had been on a role for you. But when you had arrived for the fight with your 7th opponent and hopefully 7th win Hisoka had suddenly appeared behind you. You hadn’t even noticed him and noted that he must had used Zetsu to hide his presence. But before you had been able to react in any way you had suddenly felt a quick hit against the back of your head and then everything had turned black.

Back to your current situation. You still tried to find out where Hisoka was exactly hiding, but you suspected that he must use Zetsu again to hide his presence. But you knew he was there! You could literally feel his yellow eyes staring at you, twisting your face angrily when imagining the disgusting amused look on his face. Still no answer. He was toying with you. You knew that you shouldn’t give him this satisfaction, your consciousness screaming somewhere at the back of your mind that this was exactly what he wanted, but your temper got the best of you. “You want to hide?! Well then, I’ll make sure to drag you personally to hell!!” You angrily started to struggle against the ropes you were tied up with, ripping them apart with an angry scream. That’s when you heard it. It was barely audible, but you heard a very familiar voice chuckling. Your head snapped into the direction of the noise. “So that’s where you’re hiding?! Come out and fight me you jerk!!” You angrily lifted your hands up and started shooting your red glowing Nen out of it, destroying everything the Nen came in contact with. That’s when you saw him. He jumped quickly out from where he was hiding, your red glowing Nen throwing his growing shadow over you and illuminating his entertained expression. He landed elegantly behind you.

“My, my. Quite impressive. But you should get your temper better under control. It would be a shame if something would happen to you just because you can’t control your temper.” An inch mark appeared on your head, his fake worried tone pissing you off. “Shut the hell up!! Where am I?! What did you do?!” He gave you a grin. “You are in a house somewhere far away from the arena and you’re here because I-“ “I know where I am and I also know what you did you idiot!! I’m not completely dumb!! I want to know why you did it?!?!” “Then you should have asked more precise questions.”, he replied whilst looking at his cards. “You asshole!!” Again you shooted your Nen towards him, but he simply jumped up to avoid it. You were just about to shoot again when he suddenly lifted his hands up in a surrendering way. “(y/n), if you attack me now I won’t be able to tell you what you want to know. By the way, I don’t feel in the mood to fight you right now.” Your eyes twitched. “You think I’ll just stop because you aren’t in the mood to fight me?!?! You’re truly the worst bastard I’ve ever met in my life!!!” He pretended to be hurt, gasping and laying one of his hands over his heart. “You’re so cruel (y/n).” You took a deep breath to calm down a bit. You wanted to know why he did this so as much as you disliked it, trying to fight him now wouldn’t help you to receive your answers. You would sent him flying after you’ve heard his explanation. “Better start explaining quickly or else you’re in huge troubles!”

“You’re too kind.”, he said before starting to explain. “You want to know why I took you away? It is really simple. Because I was jealous.” A dumbfounded look crossed your face. Jealous?! Him?! “I watched you since you stepped the first time into Heavens Arena and I know when I see someone with potential and you,”, he pointed with one of his sharp nails at you,”were basically overflowing with potential so I kept a close eye on you and watched as you continued to raise up. You were so entertaining to be with, but when you suddenly started ignoring me I felt” He stopped, seeming to search for the right word. “...offended.” All of your anger had disappeared and you just stared at him, blinking confused at him. What in the world was this guy talking about? “When I watched you fighting against the opponents of the 200th floor I felt so jealous and scared. I was afraid that they would take you away before I even had gotten the chance to play with you and I was jealous because they hurt you and you hurt them.” He stepped closer to you. “Only I am allowed to hurt you and you are only allowed to hurt me. That’s why I killed all of them. They didn’t deserve to continue living after experiencing a battle with you. Same goes for the guy who was supposed to fight you today. To be honest, all of them were rather weak. I am much more fitting to fight against you.”

For a moment you were absolutely speechless before all of your previous anger returned. “You were afraid that they would kill me before you had gotten the chance to play with me?!?! What am I to you?!?! Some kind of toy?!?! I am a fucking human being, not your personal entertainment thing!!! That’s it!!! Make yourself ready!!! I’ll beat some sense in this twisted mind of yours!!! Even though I doubt it will be from any use!!!” Hisoka didn’t react, instead looking at his cards. “Hey!! Don’t ignore me!!!” He sighed slightly frustrated before putting his cards away. “I told you before, didn’t I? I’m not in the mood to fight yet. I want to save this for later.” He bent down to you, a huge smile present on his face. “Don’t you think I deserve something for going through all of this troubles just for you? Maybe a kiss?” “...!!!!”

“Wham!!” Your punch sent him flying, crushing against the wall. “Kissing you?!?! I’d rather kiss the chairman than you!!! The only thing you’ll be getting are punches from me until you’re black and blue!!! Do you hear me?!?!” Due to the dust you weren’t able to see his expression at first, but when you did you instinctively took a step back. Despite the huge purple bruise on his face and the blood that was dripping down Hisoka was smiling widely. A huge blush started spreading on his face. His eyes rolled back in pure pleasure and he threw his head back, letting out an even worse pornographic moan than before. You on the other hand were highly crept out. What the hell?! The next moment Hisoka suddenly looked with a look you didn’t like at all at you before disappearing. You looked panicked around, trying to find out where he was. But that wasn’t necessary because the very next moment you suddenly felt him grabbing your shoulder and turning you around to face him. On his face was a look of pure ecstasy and put together with the still visible blush on his face and his huge grin made it quite the disturbing sight. His sharp nails were digging into your shoulders and you felt something hard poking against your lower abdomen. You didn’t dare to look down, already knowing what it was. “Do that again!” His voice sounded thrilled. “E-excuse me?!” “I desire any physical touch with you so please hit me more.”

#yandere hunter x hunter #yandere hxh #yandere hisoka #yandere hisoka morow

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sheeswee · 4 years ago

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Maeglin canon rewrite cause hey, why not.

When Maeglin was brought to Gondolin, after the grief of his mother’s death, he was really looking forward to bonding with his cousin! Turgon was also quite kind to him as well, and when people would stare and whisper about how he was a cursed child and evil and wrong, his uncle would protect his honor.

Then behind the scenes, Idril revealed that she was disgusted by him too, and hated being related to someone like him (it was also from jealousy that she wasnt the only royal heir anymore) which really broke Maeglin’s heart. He wanted a cousin so bad.. Turgon could tell something was up, so he pulled him aside and was basically like “Maeglin youre my nephew you can tell me what’s wrong.” and Maeglin didnt want to offend him so he didnt end up saying anything (which unfortunately came across as suspicious to Turgon).

And when Turgon confronted Idril in private about it she told him a false story: that Maeglin had been trying to court her and was making advances on her despite being cousins, and telling him off all the time, which Turgon ended up believing...

Turgon in the end took his daughters side, and Maeglin was once again treated like an outsider despite having done nothing except be related to Eöl.

I also like the idea of Maeglin being mentored in smith-work by Celebrimbor. Maeglin immediately becomes attached to him, someone who matches his wit and has similar interests.. someone who wants him around.. someone who actually sees him for who he is and not who his father is. Because they have that in common, and Celebrimbor always understands. Their relationship blossoms, until for Maeglin it becomes obsessive. For him, he struggles deeply with any sort of bonds he gets out of fear of isolation and being abandoned. He grows jealous of people who would talk to or train under Celebrimbor as well, and let it fester into just another reason that he should betray the city. Because to Maeglin, Celebrimbor having other friends was a betrayal to him as well.

That’s what I have for a canon rewrite, but I’m tacking a little character analysis on the end here as well.

I feel a bad making Idril out to be so mean in this, but I prefer it to Tolkien’s “Maeglin was shunned by everyone for being creepy toward his cousin”.

The rest of his story is pretty much the same, his upbringing, Aredhel’s death, being captured by Sauron (who actually ends up realizing that Maeglin is lonely and bitter and uses this to sway him with sweet promises rather than torture), and then the fall of Gondolin and his death.

Even in the weird incestuos canon that Tolkien creates, I don’t think Maeglin actually loved Idril romantically. I think that Maeglin can’t tell the difference between affectionate emotions well, and assumed his admiration and longing for a bond with her was something romantic. In reality he was projecting because hes never been loved by anyone in his life. Well, besides his dead mother, who he was probably convinced thought of him as a burden too.

Its still weird that he wanted to marry his cousin, but I think he was majorly projecting and coping and trying to feel loved for once.

(even more rambling ahead)

im also pretending the “maeglin is auper awful and weird and horrible” was just unreliable narrator AND THE UNRELIABLE NARRATOR THEORY is like.... silm fans use it to excuse plot holes cause basically. The silmarillion is meant to be a collection of historic texts compiled and translated into one language by bilbo in valinor. So its him collecting a ton of old elf scrolls and translating them into one book. The unreliable narrator theory is basically that some of the texts he translated were slightly or heavily biased by the elves who originally wrote them. So if idril wrote about the fall of gondolin of course she would write what she wants you to believe(that maeglin was super evil all along and gross) which may not be true

#maeglin #idril #turgon #celebrimbor #the fall of gondolin #the silmarillion #tolkien #fallen banners #a little

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evitachristine · 4 years ago

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Anti-Hophie Rant

So I finally finished reading One True King, and this is what I have to say. It’s long.

WILL CONTAIN SPOILERS!

Before I get into this, just a small warning: If Hophie is your OTP and embodiment of perfection, this text is not for you. I will not argue with anyone, alright?

To start this off, in my opinion OTK is the weakest of the series. It just feels like a connection between the last book and the fact that Tedros has to become the King. Some might argue that the second book was the worst, well, I disagree. It’s not just because Hophie happens here, but I kind of believe that when the internet spoiled to me that my hated ship was going to happen (because I had to wait until the book comes out in my country), I was expecting more from it. That I would actually be convinced it’s meant to be, which didn’t happen. Also the execution of some characters (Ahem...Merlin) was just...why. It seemed to me that there were a lot of other fan services in this book, apart from Hort and Sophie getting together, but more about that later.

I need to remember this for good, and next time I become a fan of something, I will avoid its fanbase. I do not mean to offend anyone, but a fanbase can really ruin a platform, especially when the platform is still developping and the fanbase is influencing it, which I believe did happen a lot with SGE. I will not deny that a fandom can improve such thing - that is definitely true as well - but sometimes the line between improving and ruining is slim, and if it doesn’t ruin the platform, then it might ruin a couple of fans’ experience of it.

Now to the point of me hating Hophie.

As I mentioned in my previous post, and above. When I discovered the fandom and found out that people are shipping Hort and Sophie, I asked myself “But why? Sophie doesn’t like Hort.” and I kind of thought this was a joke or a meme ship. I always ship characters where both sides have at least a visible bit of attraction towards each other. Whether its friends to lovers or enemies to lovers. Hophie, until the last book and half, was not the case. It was a typical example of unrequited crush, Sophie once only used Hort to make Tedros jealous. But if my mind isn’t tricking me, she was always disgusted by him and even during their first encounter, he attempted to harass her! And the fact that “they were still kids back then” is not an excuse to me.

Allow me to make a slight turn from SGE. When I was about 8-10, my mum took me to see an opera called Turandot. I will not bother you with opera, but long story short: A princess is very beautiful and a lot of men want to marry her. So she is giving everyone three questions, if they answer incorrectly, they are executed. Everyone are getting executed until a prince in disguise arrives and is in love with her, answers all questions correctly. Princess doesn’t want to marry him tho, so he asks her to guess his name and if she succeeds, he will gladly die. The princess doesn’t feel love at all and doesn’t want to fall in love. She believes she is a saint. Then in a dramatic duet the prince kisses her and ALL OF SUDDEN the princess falls in love with him.

Whew. Sorry, I tried to make this as short as possible. I remember asking my mum after this: “Why is the girl always forced to love the boy?” Little me didn’t like this idea of a “magical kiss” already, lol. Mum’s answer was “Because it was written by a boy.”, but that’s not even my point here. Do you see the pattern? Girl keeps refusing guy but in the end he still gets her. THIS RIGHT HERE is the main reason why I hate Hophie. It reinforces the stereotype that if a guy is persistent enough, he will get the girl even if she said no a million times.

Another note I’d like to say about this, and I’m going to receive hate for this opinion. I started book 1 when I was 16. Now I’m in my early twenties and I get that most SGE readers are still teenagers. The age of crushes, clumsy love experiments, etc. OK now I sound like a grandma. But I think this is where Hophie stems from. Everyone are seeing themselves in Hort. Your crush doesn’t like you back, his crush doesn’t like him back. Something like Éponine in Les Misérables. If Marius and Sophie both fall in love with the person who likes them, it’s like the crush of the fan does. Can we call this the Hort-Éponine complex?

Aside from that, I believe that people who already experienced both sides of unrequited love (like yours truly grandma, right here), meaning Sophie’s side of it, are less likely to support such ships.

I will now dive into the OTK “resolution” of this pairing. First let me just say, this book made me, if not hate, then at least strongly dislike Hort’s character. The first half of the book and even a some time after before he finally gets with Sophie, his character is disgusting to me. He is so obsessed with her, even while he’s still dating Nicola. As in my previous post, it’s like a huge part of his character is only “I LOVE SOPHIE”. While he’s still with Nicola, he never fails to mention “his FRIEND Sophie”. I will now paraphrase because I read a translation, not the original, but even when Hort’s singing to the guards to distract them so Agatha and Tedros can sneak into the Library, he sings something along the lines “Girlfriend Nikki and friend Soph”. I’m not sure if this was meant to convince the reader that Sophie ending up with Hort is a good idea, but with me, it did the exact opposite.

In general, their “romance” feels extremely rushed to me. Compared to Sophie’s previous love interests, regardless of who they were as people, these two have zero chemistry. It seems as if Sophie decided to settle because there was no other guy for her. And the description of her suddenly being in love with him, as mentioned above, is another of those “magical kiss” stories. It is hardly believable and kind of... shallow.

There even were several moments when Rafal was mentioned. In COT, when the protagonists wanted to flee Camelot but Sophie decided to stay, she saw Hort flying to her and she mistook him for Rafal. Goodness. Even in OTK there were a few moments when it seemed that Sophie still has issues from that relationship. Very few, but they were there.

Therefore I refuse to believe that the reason for this was anything other than to satisfy the majority of the fandom. In addition, the entire book feels like one huge “fan service”, as other ships are “sailing” as well. We have Hestadil and Bogden/Willam, but these two are at least believable. Hestadil started, even tho inconspicously, two books ago, and it resolved naturally. And beforehand they were close friends, so there’s that. As for the boys, they were side characters, so we can only think that all resolved while they were off the scene.

To sum it up, I thought of three different endings I’d prefer for Sophie.

On the first place, this was mentioned several times by other people, is that she should have stayed on her own. That happened in TLEA, but this time, really. I hated that OTK made it seem that she really needs a partner. Yes, love, but heck... is romantic love the only thing that is out there? How about friendship? Content with oneself? Pursuing hobbies that you love? Freedom? Come on. Awesome characters that end up single AND ARE HAPPY should have more representation. And I think Sophie would have been amazing like that.

On the second place I have two things. First, Sophie with a girl. Only I’m not sure who. Maybe Nicola, or Betty if she survived. Or maybe, people might hate me for this, but... Dot? I don’t ship it but I think it could have been cute. Maybe they would start off getting closer as friends and the rest would be left up to the reader’s imagination.

The other preferable ending I have at second place was originally on the third place, but some weird nostalgia overcame me when reading OTK and I had to move it up. People will hate me. But if Sophie should end up with a guy, it should have been Rhian. Yes, I know what you are thinking right now. But think about it. That guy really believed he was Arthur’s son. Imagine if he found out the truth. Something tells me it would be really hard for him at first, but in the end, if he found out that Japeth really only wants Aric, he could’ve joined the protagonists. In my opinion Sophie had the best dynamic with him, before it all spiralled downwards with snakes etc. Maybe he could pretend to help his twin but in the end... I believe I read something like this somewhere on Tumblr as well. Also this kind of feels as if it could have been Soman’s original plan before he turned to pleasing the fans. Or maybe I’m just fantasising too much. Regardless of how much you’re cursing me right now, I believe Rhian deserved better and shouldn’t have died. After all, he was the better twin.

As for Hort, well, before OTK I didn’t really care for his character, I didn’t dislike him but he wasn’t my favourite. I simply wished him well hoping he’ll get over Sophie so he can be happy, either with Nicola/someone else, or on his own. After the last book made me resent him, I’m not sure. He could have died, but I know that is cruel.

He could have been slowly realising that he doesn’t need Sophie, his love would fade away, maybe Nicola could break up with him in the process, then they would get back together, at a natural pace, realisation, etc. Or they wouldn’t, or they wouldn’t break up at all, just separate on different missions, and then reunite and realise they were truly meant to be together all along.

Whew, if you made it here, congratulations. If you read this as a Hophie shipper, I’m not taking away your opinion. I just needed to let this out. Hope we can respect each other.

...But I still kinda wish we could get another version of OTK where Hophie doesn’t happen.

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thatotherfooltheycallweaver · 3 years ago

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Putting this out

This is the first "chapter" type thing of a fic I'm working on, hoping to get a little feedback--kind of an "outside view"

anything is appreciated

In the dim lights of early morning Queens, New York City, a teenage girl who had only gotten a maximum of three hours’ sleep had been startled awake by her alarm once again. She had already pressed ‘snooze’ twice, and would likely remain asleep if it were chosen a third time. The girl managed to pull herself from the half-awake state that tried so hard to coax her back to sleep. Untangling herself from several blankets, she stumbled out of bed; the cold already welcoming her to reality. The girl realized that she needed to hurry up if she was going to grab anything to drink before she got on the train. Deciding that she would need a bit of a personal motivator for that day, she grabbed her favorite pair of black jeans. They were a well worn pair, with a few rips from how frequently they were used. She grabbed a shirt that had been hanging from the handle of her door, a bit unsure how long it had been there, and put it on over the tank top she slept in. Her mother was waiting in the kitchen for her, lighting a stick of lavender and sandalwood incense, a staple in their household. There was music playing softly in the background, which she quickly recognized as ABBA, one of her mother’s favorite bands.

“Hey, Sierra. Good morning.” Her mother smiled. “I made you some coffee to take with you. Iced, just the way you like it.” Sierra smiled back, hugging her.

“Morning, mom.” She let go. “Are you feeling any better today?” She asked.

“Yes, I am.” Her mother pulled the hair out of Sierra’s face. “You can’t stay long...you might miss the train.”

“I had an alarm…?”

“It actually went off four times before you came out, hon. I was about to come wake you up.” Her mother grabbed something wrapped in a paper towel, handing it to her. “I hope you have a good day at school. I love you.”

“Sorry. I really appreciate this. Love you, too. Have a good day.” Sierra grabbed her bag and headed out the door. It turned out that the thing in the paper towel was a donut with strawberry jam in it. She loved strawberries, and felt a smile form on her lips. She got on the train just in time and put her earbuds in, hoping to keep the good energy going for as long as possible.

The day seemed to pass by so slowly, and the caffeine did not linger for more than a few classes. She was just beginning to crash when she got to chemistry. She had to fight the urge to fall asleep the moment she sat down. It was that class, followed by history, and she’d be able to go home. She had gotten in a tad later than usual, and chose the second to last seat available. She checked her phone and swiped away a few YouTube notifications, hoping she’d remember to watch them later on the way home. A boy she had seen around but never actually talked to had come in last, fumbling with the books in his hands and the papers stacked between. He put them down on the desk, but they fell off, scattering a bit. He scrambled, trying to grab them before they fell. Feeling sympathetic, Sierra got up and helped him. She stacked the papers she grabbed semi-neatly. He put the books he wouldn’t need in his bag, apologizing and thanking her as the last paper was grabbed and handed back to him.

“Hey, anytime.” She replied, glancing up at him. He was a bit taller than her; and from her view, the first thing she saw were his eyes: a vibrant, warm brown. She blinked, trying to cover the hesitation. He slowly sat down beside her desk, followed by her doing the same. “I’ve had days like that, too.” She reassured him, sensing his embarrassment. She leaned back in her chair somewhat, tucking the pen in her hand behind her ear. At first glance, it almost blended in with her dark hair.

“For me, it’s almost like every day.” He joked lightly with an embarrassed laugh, a faint blush forming. “Sorry.” He added under his breath.

“Don’t worry about it, really.” Trying to make him feel more comfortable, she changed the subject. “You’re in a few of my other classes, aren’t you?” She asked, to which he nodded. “History and gym, right?”

“Yeah...uh, I think so.” He looked more directly at her, scratching at his neck. “I’m Peter...Parker.”

“Sierra Collins. Nice to meet you.”

“You, too.” He smiled slightly. The class about to begin, Sierra grabbed the pen from behind her ear and softly tapped it against the desk a few times. Peter leaned forward on his desk slightly. “Didn’t get much sleep last night?” He asked, trying to keep the conversation up and not act awkward. She gave a confused look. “The dark circles. I just...sorry.”

“Oh, no, don’t worry about it. I just didn’t realize. No, I didn’t. Studying and shit.” She shrugged, noticing faint bruises that looked almost fully healed on his forearms, right where the sleeves ended. He scratched at one of them. “You okay?” She asked, a little worried for a moment.

“No, yeah, I’m fine.” He looked at her. “I’m just very clumsy.” It almost sounded as if he made it up on the spot, but it also seemed plausible.

“Ohh...gotcha. I totally get that.” Sierra noticed that the teacher was writing something on the whiteboard, trying to get ready for the class to begin--notes or something similar. She copied the things that she thought were important in rushed handwriting. She mumbled in irritation, erasing some of it.

“My aunt says it’s because I grew so fast.” He said before immediately regretting it. He mentally cursed himself for his awkwardness. He tried to focus back on his notes, hoping he didn’t completely embarrass himself; trying to pretend that she didn’t even hear him.

“Well, I wouldn’t worry about that. Pretty sure they’ll patch it in the next update.” She looked away, unsure if she made the situation worse. Peter laughed quietly, covering his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Balanced mechanics would be nice, for once.” She chuckled, grateful he didn’t hate the joke. They sat in semi-comfortable silence the rest of the class, helping each other with notes when it was needed. When the bell rang, it turned out that they were both heading in the same direction to their next class, gym. At that point, likely from fatigue or exhaustion, Sierra wasn’t feeling well enough to participate in class. She headed over to the bleachers, sitting with her closest friend, Liz. They’d been friends since middle school.

“Hey, Sierra.” She said with a smile as the girl sat beside her.

“Hi. Mind if I stick around?”

“No, not at all. Betty’s coming over to sit with us. Her and Audrey.” She leaned back somewhat. “How are you? Your mom feeling better?”

“I’m okay. Mom’s much better today.” Liz smiled at her response.

“Good.” Betty and Audrey walked over, the latter opting to sit near MJ, away from the immediate group. The others had been talking for a bit, asking ‘fuck, marry, kill’.

“This again?” Sierra asked, slightly irritated. They always gave weird answers, illogical in her opinion.

“They’re bored.” Liz shrugged. Seymour, a boy with dark complexion and short hair, laughed at something before turning to Sierra.

“Collins: fuck, marry, kill. Seidr, Thor, Captain America.” He asked. She sighed.

“Fuck Thor, kill Cap, marry Seidr.” The last one was Cassandra Falk, a Norwegian woman who had disappeared in February of 2010, a couple months before the Battle of Puente Antiguo, only to reappear shortly before the Attack on New York. In between the Chitauri invasion and Sokovia, she joined the Avengers.

“Damn, you didn’t even think about it.” Betty laughed. “Dor me, it’d be fuck Seidr, marry Thor, kill Cap.”

“Seidr deserves the world.” Sierra shrugged, defending her decision.

“What about the Spider-Man?” Liz asked.

“It’s just Spider-Man.” Betty shook her head, pulling the hair out of her eyes.

“Did you guys see the bank security cam on YouTube? He fought off four guys!” She defended him.

“Oh my god, she’s crushing on Spider-Man.”

“No way…” Sierra muttered. She didn’t exactly have the highest opinion of him, despite respecting him.

“I mean…” Liz shrugged. “Sort of…? I don't know, what's with you being against him. You like him, right?” She asked Sierra.

“No, Betty's got a point. You're like my best friend but I'll never understand your obsession. He's literally so awkward and a complete dork.”

“Dorkiness can be cute." She stated with a shrug.

“How do you know he's like that? Have you met him?" Seymour teased.

“No, no, nothing like that. Just the vibe from those videos on YouTube.” Sierra explained with an uncomfortable chuckle.

"He could literally be thirty years old." Betty told Liz with a disgusted expression.

“Yeah, and what if he's, like, seriously burned?" Seymour asked.

“I don't care, I'll love him for who he is on the inside.” Liz said, pointing to her chest for emphasis.

“Yeah but have you ever actually met Spider-Man? You don't know who he is on the inside, either. You just know him from what he does. He could be a completely different person off the job.” Sierra pointed out, tilting her head slightly.

“From what I know, he's a great person who helps people.” Liz said.

“What about Echo, they're pretty badass." Seymour pointed out. Echo was a reclusive--the term used loosely, they were everywhere but were good at evading any documenting of their work--vigilante, a being that could manipulate shadows.

“I didn't think many people knew about Echo. There isn't much info on them from what I could find online.” She glanced at him, interested.

“I've only seen one video of them, but they seem a lot cooler than Spider-Man. The whole mystery thing.” He explained.

“They are kinda cool I guess.” Liz added. “I just think Spider-man is more of an icon, you know?” She said, ignoring the offended look Sierra was giving her.

“I didn't know they had videos.” She tried to ignore it. “Could you send them to me when you get a chance?”

“Yeah, of course.” He nodded.

“Ooooh, someone has a crush on Echo.” Betty playfully teased.

“I don't, I just like knowing about heroes.” She shrugged. “I mean you guys mocked me for saying that Seidr was cool. And I was proven right.” Audrey slowly took out her earbuds.

“What are they talking about?” She asked MJ, tired. She looked up from her book and glanced at the group.

“Um, I think I heard something about Spider-man being thirty.” She shrugged, looking back at the book.

“Oh. Sounds kinda dumb.” She shifted slightly, as if to turn more towards her, to be polite. “That any good?”

“Yeah, that's true. Seidr is definitely a girlboss." Seymour nodded, leaning back against the seats behind him. “You can have Echo if that means I can take Spider-man.” Liz joked, looking at Sierra.

“It's very depressing...so yeah, it's great. I could lend it to you once I'm done, if you'd like.” MJ said, glancing at Audrey, who nodded. “I only have like twenty chapters left so I'll probably be finished by Friday.” She nodded, trying not to smile.

“Thanks.”

“You literally don't listen. You and Spider-Man are perfect for each other.” Sierra muttered, irritated.

“Thank you, I'm honored you think that.” Liz laughed softly, putting her hand on her heart dramatically.

“Peter knows Spider-Man!” One of the guys, Ned--if Sierra remembered the name correctly--suddenly shouted from where people were actually participating in class.

"No, n-no!" Peter quickly sat up, panicked. “No, I mean--”

“They’re friends.” He continued, oblivious to the looks everyone was giving them.

“Yeah, like Coach Wilson and Captain America are friends.” Flash, objectively a complete jackass, sneered as he jumped down from the rope he was climbing. Sierra didn’t get along with him and he frequently bullied Peter.

“I-I’ve met him.” He stuttered. “Yeah. A couple times. But it’s, um...through the Stark internship. Mm-hmm.” He turned to Ned, glaring daggers and gritting his teeth. “And I'm not really supposed to talk about it.”

“Well, that’s awesome. Hey, you know what? Maybe you should invite him to Liz’s party. Right?” Flash looked over, as if to be sure the party was still going on.

“He said he just met him once, leave him alone.”

“Actually, I might not be able to make it to the party. I have a date with Black Widow.” He looked at Sierra with a glare.

“Yeah, I’m having people over tonight.” Liz confirmed, trying to keep them from talking over each other and arguing. “You’re more than welcome to come.”

“Having a party?” Peter asked, still try

“Yeah, it’s gonna be dope. You should totally invite your personal friend Spider-Man.”

“Flash, you absolute dumbass, Widow's already got a boyfriend who she's happy with. She wouldn't waste her time.”

“Correction, no one would waste their time with you.” Betty added.

“I don’t care.” He threw his hands up in defeat. “Sorry, I forgot I was talking to the super-nerd.”

“You'd think in a world of gods and heroes that could've been straight out of the movies, you'd pay more attention to the world around you. But no, you're still the same shitty self-centered asshole as usual.” Sierra snapped.

“Collins!” Coach Wilson interrupted, trying to calm the situation down. “Alright! We can stop that there! Can everyone go back to what they were doing? Thank you.” Sierra stepped back.

“Why are you booing me? I'm right.” She mumbled, looking at Peter with an apologetic expression before going back over to the others. She didn't usually start shit with a crowd around, but she was just so fed up with Flash's bullshit at that moment specifically.

“Okay, Sierra, go off.” Liz smiled at her, proud of her otherwise introverted friend speaking her mind for once.

“That's a once in a lifetime thing. Promise.” She backtracked, all of a sudden getting shy, as realizing what happened.

“No, that was the best thing ever. I can’t speak for anyone else, but you kinda said what I was thinking.” She smiled. Everyone had left to go get changed back into normal clothes. Sierra got done a few minutes before the bell had rung. She waited for her friend, in the hall

“Think there's room for me at that party?”

“Of course, you're always invited.” Liz smiled again, standing up as well. She smiled back, walking with her but hesitating for a moment, looking at Peter, who was heading into the corridor. “Give me a sec.” She said to Liz.

“Don’t take too long.” She replied before following the group out. Sierra walked over to him. He looked up.

“Hey…” He pulled at his sleeve, a bit timid.

“You doing okay? I know that was probably uncomfortable and I just wanted to make sure you were alright.”

“Oh, yeah, I'm fine. That was pretty standard.” He said quietly and nodded with hesitancy. “I...thank you--for telling him off. I know it probably wasn't for me, but still.” She looked up, as if caught off-guard. She realized that he was right, and it didn’t sit right with her.

“No, you're right. I kinda made it about myself when I was supposed to be defending you. I'm sorry.”

“No, no, you definitely shouldn't be apologizing for that. I would really like the least amount of things to be about me as possible.” He said with an awkward chuckle, scratching the back of his neck. “Thanks again for defending me, though. No one's ever done that for me before.”

“Anytime, really.” She smiled softly, glancing back. “Hey, I gotta go. But I’ll see you at Liz’s party?”

“Yeah, I’ll be there.” He smiled slightly.

#marvel #mcu #spiderman #peter parker #my writing #oc #oc ship #fic writing #wip #please critique #fanfic writer #need feedback

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calibancangetit · 5 years ago

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The Final Witch’s Quarry (Part 1)

Chapter: Her Quarry

Pairings: Prince Caliban x Reader

Summary: (Y/N) finally finds a key to her revenge as well as finally meeting the one person she is destined to stop.

Notes: I JUST WANTED TO TELL YOU ALL HOW THANKFUL I AM FOR THE SUPPORT YOU HAVE SHOWN ME FOR THIS FIC! I really didn’t think it would do so well, but you all are really giving me so much love! Thank you to everyone who liked and reblogged as well as commented. It made me so happy. I’m going to start focusing on some imagines for you all as a gift. I got some ideas that I think you all will like. If you have any requests please feel free to ask. I haven’t decided if I’ll be doing any smut however, so please refrain from asking for that as of now. Thank you again!

Prologue

Hilda has had plenty of awkward experiences. She couldn’t count how many times she created tension so thick she wanted to just sink into the Earth and never come out. However, today was the first time she got to see that tension from an onlookers perspective.

You sat perfectly still in your seat at the Spellman’s dining room table. You were seated exactly centered at the table, where you had careful view of the entire kitchen as well as it’s occupants. Ambrose and Sabrina shifted in their seats uncomfortably as they both tried to make out the best thing to say. You let out a deep sigh as you crossed your arms; your annoyance raidiated off of you in waves.

A quick cough caught your attention as Hilda walked up to you with a tray of homemade cookies and tea.

“U-uh, it’s quite excellent to see Sabrina bring home some new friends-” your sharp glare made Hilda stumble on her words as she placed the tray in front of you-“or not. Um, where did you say you were from again, love?”

You eyed the woman beside you. She had a terrible habit of wringing her hands and patting her clothes down frequently; she also had this obsessive need to release uncomfortable chuckles to ease situations like the one you found yourself in now. It was amusing as well as agitating.

“Brooklyn.” you muttered as you lifted a cookie to your lips.

You sniffed it before taking the sweet between your teeth and savoring the oatmeal flavor. Your eyes met Hilda’s again as she watched you eat. You gulped down the cookie and let out a short awkward cough as you gave her a forced smile in order to aknowledge that you enjoyed it. She took your hint with a smile and ran off to the other side of the table to sit in and listen.

“So, um, (Y/N)?” Sabrina started as you crossed your arms again and gave her a harsh glare. “What I mainly need you to help me with is stopping Caliban.”

“What’s a Caliban?” You questioned with obvious boredom laced in your voice.

You could see Sabrina become more exasperated by your attitude as she tried to explain her plan. You listened on and off through her little presentation. You paid attention to certain key words within it like Prince of Hell, Tenth circle, etc., etc, yet your mind came to an abrupt stop when a certain competition was brought up.

“You are trying to obtain the Unholy Regalia?” You almost choked at the thought of her collecting every piece.

Sabrina and Ambrose gave each other nervous looks before nodding sadly. At this, you couldn’t help but burst into a fit of laughter.

“You realize this was made for you to fail! How could they expect you-“ you paused.

Suddenly, inspiration struck. You mind flew to the Regalia and it’s power. You smirked at the Spellmans as you drummed your fingers against the table. Things are going perfectly-at least for you.

“This Regalia is going to determine who is the ruler of hell?” You asked, twirling another cookie between your fingers.

“Yes, and Caliban is the only competitor. This man of clay seems to be hell bent, if you’ll excuse the pun, on defeating Sabrina, ruling Hell, and conquering Earth.” Ambrose bit his lip, and you couldn’t help but notice the frantic bouncing of his knee.

“And Caliban? What are his powers?”

“We aren’t sure. As far as we know he has the powers of any warlock, but he hasn’t shown us much.”

You gave a brief smile as you stood up from the table abruptly, knocking some cookies off your plate. That, of course, made Hilda wince.

“Do you know what’s funny about clay?” You asked with a face full of amusement.

The family shrugged to your little question with a series of confused whispers.

“No matter how good the sculptor, clay will always break.”

—

It had been a while since you have seen Hell. The stench of blood and death engulfed you, and torment was plastered on every suffering souls face. The walls of pandemonium were no better. Sinners were strapped against the wall and with every ten seconds of peace another 60 were spent with their bodies set on fire. You kept a straight face despite the cookies from earlier running up your throat. You were disgusted.

You felt Sage’s feathers brush against your cheek as she situated herself on your shoulder. You could feel her anxiety from being here and it was a valid feeling. She knew how you were feeling.

“So what am I suppose to do?” You asked as you flattened some of Sage’s feathers on her head.

Your eyebrows furrowed at the sight of your alli. Sabrina was an absolute wreck. She was chewing her bottom lip and wringing her hands every five seconds; you couldn’t tell if you were dealing with her or Hilda.

“Right now, you are going to be a scare tactic. Ambrose didn’t go into detail since he isn’t quite sure either, but he said Hell feared you. I’m going to need that fear.” You tried to ignore the way her face dropped.

After all, whatever was bothering her was none of your business. You were here for one reason and one reason only-

“Do you really speak to the false God?”

You blinked at the question and were about to brush her off, but you saw the way she pleaded with you for an answer.

“Didn’t you speak with yours?”

She gulped quietly before nodding more to herself than you. Guilt crept up your spine. She didn’t deserve your kindness, but you supposed she also didn’t deserve your spite. That was for her father. You could spare some advice.

“How long have you known you were Lucifer’s daughter?”

Sabrina was surprised by your sudden question but still answered, “Not long?”

“I can tell.” Sabrina stopped in her tracks at the confession. She could sense the trace of an insult and was greatly offended.

“What the hell is that suppose to mean?”

You gave her an amused look before continuing on,“I’ve known you for three days and even I can tell you are ill suited to be queen of hell just as everyone else can.”

She was at a loss of words as she tried to regain what was left of her pride.

You rolled your eyes and chuckled,“ You gotta stand up straight and quit being so nervous is what I am trying to say.”

Realization dawned on her face as she finally understood what you were trying to say. You shook your head in fake disappointment before pushing open too large blood coated doors.

You walked into the throne room where Lilith was expecting you and Sabrina. She was awfully disguised in the form of a human. It didn’t take you long to notice though. You could see through any poorly casted spell. You came to halt in front of the woman and quirked an eyebrow.

“Madame Satan,”

“Ah, the final witch. I thought you’d be-” she narrowed her eyes-“bigger.”

You gave a sweet smile and responded, "Yes, just like I thought you’d be queen. Guess life is full of disappointments. Isn’t it?

Her glare could slice you in half, and you wouldn’t be surprised if it did. Lilith made a move towards you but Sabrina quickly pushed her away.

“ Anyways,” she chuckled nervously as Lilith patted down her dress, “The court will be in soon to discuss more about the competition as well as upcoming changes I have been planning.”

Lilith hummed in agreement as she turned to face you once more to add on.

“You will be introduced as the Final Witch, who has sided with Sabrina in the competition. It should gain us some leverage. You must remain calm and seem regal despite whatever they may say. They need to know you are untouchable.”

You could clearly see the confusion laced on Sabrina’s face. She clearly had no clue who she allied with.

The sounds of heavy footsteps and high pitched cackles caught Lilith’s attention, “Here they come,”

You let out a breath as demons filed into the room. The last to enter were the three plague kings with a man following close behind them.

Sabrina seemed to take your advice since she stood before them with the aura of the greatest queen of all time. You stood tall yourself to match Sabrina as you waited for her to begin.

“Before we discuss the new regulations I plan on using during my reign, I would like to announce a very important alli of mine, who believes I am more certified to rule Hell than your prince.”

Your eyes wandered across the room as you assessed everyone’s reactions. You didn’t expect a certain pair to be staring right back at you. He was dressed in a leather vest with claws poking out of it. He was leaning against a pillar towards the back with his arms crossed. You could tell he was either very bored with the meeting or he was trying really hard to pretend to be.

“I present the Final Witch!” Sabrina shouted with a prideful smile.

The eyes of everyone in the room became filled with absolute horror as they faced you. The man from earlier smiled as it dawned on him who exactly he was staring at.

You turned away from him and cleared your throat, “I do, in fact, put my support behind Sabrina Morningstar. I speak for Heaven and Hell when I say that balance must be restored. A Morningstar must remain on the throne. Clay can not compare to blood.”

Whispers filled the room as they pondered their next step. You didn’t need to give a big speech. They knew of your hatred for the Morningstars. It was prophesied to be legendary. If you could agree with a Morningstar, then it must be correct.

“And what does your word mean to us?” A deep voice shouted from the back.

Your eyes immediately locked with the man’s once again.

“What does your word-” he said, walking ever closer to you-“ mean to me?”

You scoffed, “Excuse me.”

“Who are you to say I cannot rule Hell?” He asked.

Your eyes shot open when you finally comprehended who was in front of you.

“I’m the one soul no one could take. The one soul no one can have. I have powers that I am sure exceed what your small mind is capable of imagining. They are powers that Lucifer Morningstar gave me but could not take back. Powers that Heaven and Hell allow me to keep. They were indebted to me!” You seethed as he got in your face.

It was an obvious tactic to intimidate you, but you had definitely seen worse. Caliban only laughed at your attempt to prove yourself valid.

“Lucifer? How powerful could he be. It would seem he was tricked twice by two mere witches? Why should we let that legacy live on through her? The same witch that took down that same man, may I add.” He challenged as he pointed to Sabrina seated on her throne.

A small gasp left your lips as you listened to what he said. She’s the reason this all happened? She brought you here because she screwed up? You sent a glare at Sabrina as she tried to look away from you.

You were quickly losing traction on your side of the argument, so you had to think fast. The angered voices of the demons before you signaled that your lifespan was shortening if you didn’t find something to say, and Sage was getting more nervous by the second on your shoulder.

“Think about what you are getting yourself into. Lucifer didn’t lose to Sabrina because he was weak. He could kill you all without lifting a finger. He lost because Sabrina was stronger. She was stronger than him, so she is certainly stronger than you. I may be his enemy, but I’m smart enough to recognize the Morningstar strength.”

His eyes narrowed at your own. He was a foot away from you, and you were tempted to start a fight right then and there. However, it seemed Caliban had other plans. He smiled at you. There wasn’t any emotion behind it. It was just an unsettling simple smile. He suddenly turned on his heel and backed up from you.

“I’ll test your theory of her strength through this competition as well as yours. However, when you realize that she has dealt you some bad cards, feel free to slide into my bed for some better ones, beautiful.” A series of deep laughs echoed throughout the room.

You glared at him as he gave you a lustful look before walking off with the plague kings. Everyone allowed the rest of the meeting to go by with less trouble since Sabrina decided against sharing her new rules today. As the last of the horrid creatures left you shot Sabrina with the most terrifying look you could muster.

“You are telling me everything NOW,”

#prince caliban x reader #sam corlett #prince caliban #caliban x reader #caliban fanfic #caliban imagine #caliban #chilling adventures of sabrina #the chilling adventures of sabrina #sabrina spellman #sabrina morningstar #ambrose spellman #caos pt 3 #caos netflix #caos #sam corlett x reader

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iwachans-beefyarms · 5 years ago

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Hey everyone! Ok so first off, I’m really sorry for being hella inactive, it’s been a rough few months with exams and stress and seasonal depression HAHA but i’m better now! Unfortunately tumblr decided to delete a lot of my requests so I’m opening requests up again, so please feel free to drop by!!! This was a fun story to write, and I personally really love Sakusa’s character. I was heavily motivated by @sachiwrites‘s take on his character so hope I did u proud >.< I was also gong through a really stressful time while writing this so I thought it would be interesting to see how the reader’s own stress and depression would affect her relationship with Sakusa, someone who already had his own setoff problems. Anyway, hope y’all enjoy!

Original request: Hiiii ! lately, sakusa stole my heart >< so iy would be nice of you to write something about him !! Like something angtsy but with a fluffy end please, love me some emotional rollercoaster ride ^^

Truthfully, Sakusa Kiyoomi was indebted to you. He was acutely aware of how difficult he could be to handle. In fact, he had fully prepared himself for a life of solitude by the time he graduated from middle school. Who would want to spend the rest of their life with a person as complicated and fastidious as him? More so than that, Sakusa could not fathom having to care for another person so intimately. While he would like to pretend that his reasons for never taking interest in the pursuit for a lover were entirely born out of his insecurities about himself, the truth was that he was honestly just entirely too selfish to bother with a committed, loving relationship. He was not prepared to nurse any potential lover if they ever fell sick, or to have to go on spontaneous and wild dates just to please them. There were too many compromises that made a healthy relationship and Sakusa was not interested in making any of them. Life was too much of a burden as it already was; there was no need to worsen the weight of it.

Which is why he was so surprised when you whisked into his life, dancing up a storm in his heart. When he had first met you, he was utterly and completely blown away. He had been alone at the back of his school’s building trying distressingly hard to slow his breathing. He was panting-- no, hyperventilating. It was a panic attack of course, something he had gone through many times in his life, and something he thought he should be used to. However, the frequent occurrences of this attack on his lungs did not prevent him from feeling like he was on the edge of death everytime they came. This is it, this is really it. He heard himself think, his inner voice booming against the walls of his skull. In his crouched position, he saw the movement of feet through his peripheral vision. Too preoccupied to care, he ignored the actions of this unknown person and continued to focus on getting his breathing back on track. He noticed them, a girl maybe, reaching into her bag and pulling out a small bottle. It looked like… sanitiser maybe?

“Hey, eyes on me okay?” She spoke, her voice coming out muffled and soft against the loudness of his own heartbeat. Stressed and confused, he looked up at her as she carefully applied the liquid on her hands. Her thorough and smooth movements somehow helped him as he realised his vision had started becoming a lot less blurry. She came down to his level, and gently took his hands into hers.

“Breathe, 1, 2, 3. Exhale, 1, 2, 3. Come on, I’ll do it with you,” She spoke again, her voice confident and commanding, as she rubbed small and firm circles around his hands with the bud of her thumb. They stayed that way for nearly twenty minutes before Sakusa’s breathing finally came down from being erratic to somewhat normal. He was still panting, but he could think clearly now and he no longer heard his own heart beating in his head. She had stopped holding him by then, thank God. When he finally mustered up the effort to speak, all he could say was, “Who?”

With a small smile you replied, “Y/n! I’m in the class next to yours and we’ve never really met but I remember seeing you around quite often, Saskusa.” He was quite surprised when he realised you remembered his name. In all honesty, he had never seen you before. Maybe he had but he normally couldn't care less about other people. He didn’t even remember the names of some of his own classmates so why would he bother with a stranger next door? Still, she had been kind enough to help him. Not only that, she seemed to be aware of his phobia and had accommodated to it, which was incredibly moving for him. In that moment he felt the rare feeling of gratitude grow in his chest.

“Thank you, you must be really attentive to have known to be so careful,” he whispered, voice still raspy.

“Not really, it’s kind of obvious,” she laughed nervously, as if she was trying not to offend. He wasn’t offended.

“Anyway, see you around!” She said cheerfully, after a couple of awkward minutes. “Don’t be a stranger,” she added while walking away. He didn’t bother gracing that with a response.

Your persistent personality was a catalyst for your friendship. The daily greetings and small-talk had forced him to get to know you better and, interestingly enough, he was not repulsed. He found out about that new book you were reading, and actually enjoyed it when he decided to give it a read. Also, it was a pleasant surprise when you told him that you used to play volleyball. So, your conversations grew longer and meetings became more frequent. Soon, he was meeting you after school on days he didn’t have practice and even spending his lunch breaks with you. You started to inch closer to him and began leaving soft, subtle touches on his skin. You were obviously trying to be discreet, but he was a person who was so painfully aware of everyone around him that of course he noticed. The surprising thing was that he didn’t mind. He knew you were hygienic enough for him to be comfortable so he began to let himself enjoy your affections.

When you confessed your feelings for him, he was not surprised. He knew from the beginning that you had a little crush on him and he even found it quite adorable. Had you asked him out a few weeks earlier, his answer would have been a hard no. However, getting to know you over the past few weeks had really changed his entire mindset about relationships. For the first time in his life, Sakusa felt like he could open himself up to someone. You had been kind enough to cater to his obsessive and exhausting personality. You were also completely comfortable with taking things slow. Above all that, you had an absolutely endearing personality. It was as if fate had intentionally sent you his way after torturing him for the past years, and he wasn’t one to let blessings like this slip away. So, when you confessed your feelings for him, he was not surprised. But you were, when he said yes.

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

Dating Sakusa was going to be hard and you knew that from the very start. You weren’t naive, despite what your boyfriend might have thought. You paid him a lot of attention during the earlier stages of your friendship. You knew what he liked, what ticked him off, his pet peeves and at that point you could even tell his emotional state just by looking at the way his eyebrows moved when the rest of his face was covered by a mask. You also knew that the effort Sakusa put into your relationship was unparalleled to everything you had done for him. But, that was what you had signed up for. He had enough problems on his own trying to deal with the world with his own personal struggles so you strived to make life just a little bit easier for him.

However, after a certain point, you had to come to terms with the fact that you were your own person too. You were human too. It was easy to forget about yourself when you had been so invested in another person. The most difficult part of it all was being unable to see the fruition of all your efforts. You knew deep in your heart that Sakusa loved you. He let you kiss him, touch him and even let you sleep in the same bed as him at times. Despite that, you felt incredibly lonely in your relationship. Interacting with Sakusa started feeling almost burdensome. While your relationship had been quite a ride, built by reckless passions with bursts of feelings like joy, anger and love, you couldn’t help but feel a sense of staleness develop after a while.

It started very slowly. School had been getting ridiculously hard and Sakusa’s practices had been getting more frequent. Engulfed by the stresses of school, the two of you had gone nearly two weeks without properly speaking to each other. While Sakusa had seemingly remained unbothered, the realisation of that had completely shocked you. How could you go two weeks without any interaction with the person you loved, and not even notice it? The thing you felt most guilty about was actually the sense of peace you had experienced over those two weeks. Blindsided by your adoration for Sakusa, you hadn’t realised how draining it was being around him. When the two of you would spend time, you rarely ever took care of yourself. You’d clean the table for him when eating lunch at school because he absolutely refused to eat at those disgusting cafeteria tables, and would rather die than clean it himself. Hell, you’d even do a thorough cleaning of your own house just so Sakusa could come over and spend time with you. That, coupled with the natural angst that grows in you as a hormonal teenager, had caused you to grow more and more irritated with him.

Things you had previously found endearing about Sakusa now made your skin crawl. Even as your interactions grew less, you found yourself wanting to cry out in anger everytime he asked you to wash your hands before touching him. It was incredibly frustrating because all you wanted was some affection, and your boyfriend, of all people, couldn’t give that to you. It hurt because you had foolishly believed that if you could convince him that he was capable of being loved, he’d grow to be able to reciprocate those affections. But you were starting to feel scammed.

“Sakusa, do you want to go to that cafe I’ve been talking about?” You had asked one day, hoping to salvage your sinking relationship. He had to have noticed the drift, right? He’d want to fix it too, right?

“Huh? I don’t really feel like it…” He shuts you down just like that. Your hands are intertwined, as they usually were when you went home together, but for the first time, you untangle your fingers from his.

In hindsight, you realised that not all your feelings had been caused by your dysfunctional relationship. You had suspected that you were depressed months ago, but the problem had never been serious enough to warrant any major action so you ignored it. At least, that was what you told yourself. As time went by, it became nearly impossible to ignore. You couldn’t do your homework, you couldn’t sleep and eventually your appetite began to vanish. The rejection you felt from Sakusa had further sent you down a spiral of self-doubt. You hated yourself for being so selfish and you figured that maybe the reason Sakusa was drifting away from you was because it was you who wasn’t enough, not him.

It didn’t take long for your guilt to morph into anger once again. You had made no mention of your fractured state of mind to Sakusa, but it would not have taken a genius to figure out that you were not okay. Friends and teachers had approached you to check on you but the man you loved with every fibre of your being had never once mentioned anything to you. The two of you went about your days as you normally would. Little kisses hello and goodbye had become almost mechanical, and you cried yourself to sleep every night. You knew you should seek help soon, before it became even worse but you couldn’t bring yourself to overlook Sakusa’s indifference towards you.

You couldn’t brush your teeth. You stood in front of your bathroom mirror and furrowed your eyebrows at your reflection, toothbrush in hand. Why…? It’s just… move your hand…? It had been two days since you last showered. It physically hurt you to move and all you wanted to do was go back to bed. Still, being the responsible student you were, you went to school. You were late, none of your homework had been done but hey, at least you showed up. You knew your boyfriend was disgusted by your appearance because he had been avoiding you like a plague. You didn’t blame him, you looked as hideous as you felt. It felt like the end of your relationship was nearing and you shocked yourself with how relieving that felt. Maybe if you stopped seeing each other you could start feeling at least a little less miserable. Again, at least that was what you told yourself when you messaged him about wanting to talk.

When the two of you met at the rooftop where you had so often shared meals, the atmosphere was tense. It didn’t help that the afternoon sun was unforgiving and the air was humid. Your disheveled state in the heat made you want to claw your own skin out but you settled for subtly digging your nails into the palms of your hands. You had planned the conversation out thoroughly; first ask him how his day was, then let him down easy. The last thing you wanted to do was hurt him. You knew how difficult getting into a relationship was for him and you didn’t want to completely turn him off from ever dating again.

Yet, when you saw the unreadable expression on his face with his fingers impatiently tapping the sides of his legs, your anger triumphed any semblance of civility you had planned.

“Where the fuck have you been?” Your words come out much softer than you anticipated but your voice shook. You could tell he was surprised by the way his eyebrows shot up.

“What do you mean I --”

“Shut up and listen, where have you been? I needed you, do you even care?” You were obviously crying at this point but Sakusa remained stunned to silence. “Screw you, Sakusa. Seriously, screw you,” you interrupt, your emotions clearly messing with your vocabulary.

“I’m your girlfriend, not your maid. I’m not just there to clean up shit for you! I have a life, I have feelings and I have been so miserable and you haven’t said anything,” You’re rambling but it was hard to stop once it started. You felt your vision blut from the tears and felt the snot running down your chin but you didn’t care. If Sakusa couldn't handle you at your worst then he sure as hell didn’t deserve you at your best. You continued your rant and poured your heart out to him. Unwittingly, you express your grievances about your own state of mind to him. You had wanted to keep your condition to him a secret for so long but there was no turning back now. He deserved to feel guilty, to hate himself for being such a terrible friend.

“I warned you about setting expectations. I told you that I’m not that guy. Why are you surprised now?”

His words seemed sarcastic but the genuinity in his voice as he responded triggered you. He wasn’t even trying to be hurtful, you knew that much. It was the fact that he hadn’t even tried to change for you that really broke your heart. Even though you had told yourself that you didn’t feel anything anymore, that the break up would be a relief, nothing in your nearly two decades of living could have ever prepared you for the heartbreak you felt in that moment. Seriously, it felt like your heart was about to fall from your chest, and you had to physically clench your fist against your chest to keep yourself from falling apart. You weren’t crying anymore, and there was nothing left to say. So, you walked away, and Sakusa didn’t bother stopping you.

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Sakusa Kiyoomi was indebted to you, this he knew for a fact. You had forced him out of his shell and had inspired him to be better. He never knew he was capable of doing something even as trivial as kissing, but with you he had been able to open himself up to so much more. Hell, he had had sex for the first time with you, something he had previously been unable to even fathom. It wasn’t just his comfort zone that you had expanded, you changed him for better. He was less cold towards others and he learned to appreciate the little things.

He remembered going to the beach once while you were on a date. He hated the sand in his shoes and he didn’t even want to think about stepping into the ocean. But, you had begged and begged for weeks and he eventually had to give in to you because, although he would never admit to it, seeing you smile made his heart flutter. You had forced him to take his shoes off and stand in the sand with you. With your eyes closed and hands raised, he watched you smile radiantly at the sky. He was transfixed, staring at you because how could someone be so beautiful and full of life?

“I love the feeling of the sun on my skin, it’s like being kissed by the sky don’t you think?” You had turned to face him, hands still in the air. Your words took him by surprise because Sakusa had never really seen the sun as anything but a source of humidity and a catalyst for disease. But the way you looked at him, the way your eyes sparkled; he couldn’t help but love the sun a little more from that day.

He really did love you, even if he wasn’t the best at showing it. So when you started getting dull, he noticed it immediately. He probably noticed it even before you had. The problem lay in the fact that he had no idea what to do. He figured, if you really needed help you would ask. But he knew that was just a pathetic excuse to avoid any kind of confrontation. Sakusa, for all his self-confidence, was incredibly insecure about his relationship with you. He never expected to cultivate such intense devotion towards you, but he did. And his biggest fear was that one day, you’d realise you were worth so much more than Sakusa could have ever hoped to offer. You were perfect and ethereal. Everybody loved you and it was almost like the sky became brighter when you were around. As the days went by, he found himself becoming more and more blinded by you. You had inspired him to get help, but he held himself back because of the fear that if you ever did grow wiser and left him, all his efforts would have been for naught. Truly, Sakusa believed that he would never love anyone the way he loved you, ever. The fear of losing you frightened him more than anything and he was too afraid to change any aspect of your relationship in case it ever disrupted the balance the two of you had created.

Things had started to change when you grew darker over time. He saw you deteriorate with his own eyes, but he couldn’t do anything. He didn’t want to do anything. He told himself it was because he was afraid of hurting you even more, but Sakusa felt deep down that it was his selfishness once again preventing him from ever going out of his way to care for someone. He reasoned that you were smart enough to have no expectation for him, that you knew he was a self-centred prick. But seeing you cry in front of him had really sobered him up. He hadn’t expected it to hurt so much when he saw you clutch your shirt as you fought back tears. When you walked away, he tried so hard to move towards you, to stop you, touch you-- anything, really. But his feet were grounded and all he could do was watch. Sakusa was nothing if not proactive, and he knew he had to do something quick, before the damage done was irreversible. With a quiet sigh muffled by his mask, he leaned his head back, face tilted toward the sky and let himself get lost in his thoughts.

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It had been two weeks since you spoke to Sakusa. You knew it was over but there had been a small part of you that had hoped he would approach you and you would both talk things out until everything went back to normal. Of course, that did not happen, and you were not surprised either. As much as you would like to believe in the romance of life that the media often tried to feed you, you were a realistic person who knew better than to have faith in some fantasy that only existed in your mind. At the same time, you were also, unfortunately, just a teenage girl whose heart refused to listen to her brain. Which was why, when your doorbell rang at 10pm that night, your heart skipped a beat in hopes that perhaps Sakusa had finally come to his senses and came to sweep you away.

What was more surprising than the fact that even after two weeks you still held some lingering hope that your ex-lover would come back to you was the fact that, indeed, it was him who stood at your front door. For a solid few seconds you could not move or say anything, as you took time to process the vision that was presented before you. Sakusa was wearing casual clothes and he sported his usual mask. However, it had been pushed down to collect at his neck, and you were gifted with the image of his whole face. His dark curls fell gracefully over his forehead and you noticed a slight sheen of sweat. Had he run here? What could he possibly want from you that was so urgent?

“Hello? Anyone home?” He asked. It took you a moment to realise he had just cracked a joke. Regaining your composure, you retort, “What the fuck do you want?” If he was hurt by your outburst, it certainly didn’t show.

“Look, before you say anything, please hear me out, okay?” He asked softly, taking a step towards you. Instinctively, you backed away. There was something different about him but you couldn’t place a finger on what it was exactly. His gaze on you felt stronger than ever, and he had a determined glint in his eyes that you had never seen before. You also noticed his posture. His shoulders were rolled back and he stood tall and proud, like he was so sure of himself. Whatever the source of his newfound confidence was, it made your heart hurt a little bit. You had been an absolute mess after the break up, while he had clearly been thriving.

“Sure. Whatever. Spit it out.”

“I love you, and I’m sorry for being such a jerk. I know I should have said this much earlier but I didn’t want you to think I was being insincere. I had to do something to prove to you how serious I was being,” He started, a small smile creeping on his face. You stared at him blankly, not understanding where this was going.

“Are you proposing…? Because I will say no!” You blurt out, panicking slightly. He blinked at you a couple times, obviously puzzled by your outburst. Then, he laughed. A full blown chortle. It was a rare Sakusa laugh that you had only witnessed a couple times before. With a big, bright smile, he shook his head and responded, “No, dumbass. I’ve been seeing a therapist.” The revelation was shocking, to say the least. But, before you could interrupt, he continued.

“When you left after our argument I realised how much I had been taking you for granted. I’m not good with expressing myself but I knew enough to realise that you’re the best damn thing that could have ever happened to me. You see, I knew this for a long time, I just don't know how to tell you. I don’t like people and I find relationships exhausting but with you, for the first time in my life, I want to try harder. I didn’t want to lose you. I spoke to my mother and she offered to take me to see a therapist. She had asked me before but I never felt the need to see one. But after our fight, I realised I had to grow up. I still generally hate people and I still don’t know how to say what I’m feeling. And I sure as hell still hate germs but, I’m willing to work towards getting better. For you. You deserve at least that. If you’re willing to take me back, I’d be lucky to have you with me while I do this.”

He ends his speech with his eyes still looking into yours, as if he was analysing your reaction. He had clearly rehearsed this, you could just tell. It was honestly quite cute and heartwarming because you couldn’t think of any other time Sakusa had tried this hard with you. Your chest swells with affection you had been repressing for the past couple of weeks as you grabbed his shirt and yanked him down to your lips. The kiss was sweet, and a little salty from the tears that escaped your eyes after his little speech. Sakusa wasted no time wrapping his arms around you as he pressed your body closer to him. You had become an expert at reading him since the start of your relationship and you could feel just how much he had missed you from the way he held you during that kiss. Pulling away, he let his hands slide up your arms and cup your face.

“Does this mean you forgive me?” He asks, breathless.

You weren’t an idiot. You knew things were going to be far from peachy. But for him, you were willing to risk the sun and the moon. You tell him this by taking his hands into yours and leaning up for another kiss.

#haikyuu x reader #sakusa kiyoomi #sakusa x reader #female reader #angst #fluff #haiku angst

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heyyyharry · 5 years ago

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Flatmate: Harry is afraid of the roller coaster so Y/N rides with someone else

Here’s a sneak peek of the latest blurb on PATREON :) You can read the full blurb (4.4k words) here.

Y/N was volunteering at an event hosted by her book club. Harry hadn’t paid much attention when she’d ranted about it a couple of days ago (he blamed how pretty she’d looked that day), but as he recalled, she’d said something about reading books to little children, which he knew she was perfect for because she read books to him all the time.

She’d been here every night for the last three days, and he’d been planning on going to see her after her shift, but it would have been suspicious if he’d come alone. She would think he was stalking her and assume he liked her or something. He didn’t like her. He was obsessed with her.

“Oh, wow, Harry’s girlfriend. What a lovely coincidence!” Layla said, smiling as Y/N waved enthusiastically and headed toward them.

Harry should not have let Layla tag along; she would embarrass him again. But of course, he needed Niall as emotional support. And Niall came with Layla. It was like buying a bottle of shampoo and they gave you a sample of conditioner that you’d never use.

“You’re here for the fair?” Y/N asked and then rolled her eyes at herself. “Of course you’re here for the fair. Sorry…” she murmured before adding an awkward laugh, which never failed to make Harry swoon.

“Are we here for the fair, Harry?” Layla asked Harry as she rested her head against Niall’s. Everyone was staring at Harry now; his friends all knew this was no coincidence. Thank you, Layla.

His eyes flicked to Y/N, who seemed to be the only one there having no idea what was going on. She raised both eyebrows, still waiting for him to speak.

“I love funfairs.” He didn’t. He was afraid of it actually. He’d got lost at a funfair once when he was six; it’d been a traumatic event.

“Oh,” was all Y/N said before she smiled at him with her eyes. “Well, I just finished my shift. I’ll see you at home?”

“Wait!” He jumped right in front of her and she almost bumped into him. Both of them backed away at the same time, blushing deeply. For a second, Harry forgot that his friends were there, silently watching and judging them. Well, him.

He brought a fist to his mouth and cleared his throat. “Would you like to join us?” he asked. “You don’t have any plans tonight, right?”

He knew she didn’t. She never had plans at night. Her nighttime was reserved for him, or so he’d like to think.

Y/N opened her mouth to answer when Louis interrupted her by yelling at the crowd, “Ash! What are you doing here, lad?”

Harry turned just in time to see Ashley Finch making his way toward them. Harry wasn’t exactly friends with the guy, but they’d had a few classes together last semester. Ashley used to be Liam’s and Louis’ flatmate before he’d moved out to live with his girlfriend, and Niall had taken his place. From the way his eyes fastened on Y/N, Harry prayed Ashley was still living with said girlfriend.

Ashley gave Louis and then Liam a one-arm hug and said hello to the rest of them. To Harry’s surprise, Ashley turned to Y/N. “You’re still here?” he asked.

“You two know each other?” Layla asked the blond-haired lad, but her eyes were on Harry, who pretended not to notice her teasing grin.

“Ash and I volunteered together for the book club’s event,” Y/N said.

To be honest, Harry was more shocked by the nickname than the fact that these two didn’t only know each other, but they'd also been working together for the last three days or even longer than that.

Ash. She’d called him ‘Ash’. She called Harry ‘Harry’, but Ashley was ‘Ash’. Well, to be fair, most of Harry’s friends called him Harry so he couldn’t blame her for calling him that. Still, he was offended.

Ash, he repeated the name inside his head with a voice full of disgust while glowering at Ashley Finch. He hoped the girlfriend Ashley had lived with last year would jump out at this very moment and surprise him. But there was no girlfriend. Just Ashley smiling non-stop at Harry’s Y/N.

#sneak peek #exclusive #flatmate harry #harry styles fluff #flatmate series #flatmate blurbs

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ofwizardsandmen · 4 years ago

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Pride and prejudice

Characters: Minah Delacroix, Enzo St. Pierre, Johnny Suh, Leah Richmond

Word count : 1,3k

Collection of drabbles in which Tara & Mark's friends react to their engagement

Mayfair - Beauté+

“I can’t believe them” Enzo St. Pierre’s voice echoes in the silence of Minah’s large office. For a man with quite a free-spirited approach to life and his easy-going temperament, he sounds particularly bitter. Minah ignores her friend for a brief moment in favor of the contract in front of her. After all, Enzo had installed himself on the pink velvet sofa across her desk hours ago and so far he’d done nothing but to watch her go through paperwork as he scrolled down his OwLine’s —Sungjae’s latest social media app— feed.

Now, despite the rumors that circulate about him, Minah knows that Enzo Saint-Pierre is not one to enjoy watching women like some creep. No, Enzo can’t lie for his life —at least not to Minah—, so she is aware that the only reason he’s pretending to wait for her approval before embarking on a new project is the long-forgotten mail in his office that keeps —literally— exploiting on his desk.

Biting down a laugh, the young woman watches Enzo toss his phone on the couch with a scoff and the sudden urge to discuss Gossip Witch’s latest blast prompts her to push aside the stack of documents in front of her.

“So you heard about the Olivier’s launching a lipstick collection?” she asks visibly amused.

“What?” For a second or two, Enzo seems the slightest bit perplexed, but his confusion quickly morphs into a disgusted frown. “Eww. No. That’s obviously a desperate attempt to one-up our company and we’ll get back to this real quick, but I am talking about Tara and Yang” Enzo says, leaping out of his seat to slide his phone across Minah’s desk.

Minah can’t remember a time Enzo has ever used that uncharacteristic whiny tone to talk about his best friend and her boyfriend, so she eyes him with a confused frown.

Moving closer to her, Enzo simply deadpans “They got engaged”.

“Engaged?” The young woman looks at Enzo over the rim of her Dior reading glasses, almost refusing to believe one of their closest friends —and arguably the wisest of them all— would make such a life-changing decision overnight. This is surely her business partner reading that Gossip Witch rip-off website again. “Love, I’ve told you to stop reading that fake Gossip Witch page-”

Enzo rolls eyes fleetingly before pushing his phone closer to Minah. “This is real, Min. Look for yourself”

Still downplaying the situation, Minah slowly takes her glasses off and grabs Enzo’s phone. She almost has an “I-told-you-so” escaping from her crimson lips when her eyes catch a glimpse of a red box on the screen. Minah blinks twice before reading Tara’s very simple message. “Mark proposed”. Two pictures are attached as proof: the first one shows a huge diamond ring —Cartier, evidently—; the other captures Mark and Tara smiling brightly to the camera, he's holding his guitar with one hand while his free arm holds his girlfriend's waist.

“Well, this is-“ Minah flounders at a loss for words, unsure of what and how she is supposed to feel. Surely those are good news, but there is also a part of her that feels wronged by the fact she is finding out about them through a message sent to Enzo.

“Horrible” Enzo completes the unfinished sentence, a huff slipping past his lips.

“No!” Minah is quick to deny. She throws her shoulders back and fixes her position to appear composed “I mean, completely unexpected yes, but those are great news.” She goes on, in an attempt to brainwash herself into believing she isn’t offended at all “I just-“ The woman purposely ignores the way Enzo rolls eyes for a second time and instead reaches for her own phone, secretly hoping that Tara had the courtesy to inform her too. “Isn’t Mark famous? Why would he propose without a big eve- wait, did he plan a proposal event and kept us out of it?” She bombards Enzo with questions as she goes through the dozens of messages she’d received that morning, a cold trickle of anger shivering down her spine when she realizes she has received the exact same message.

___

Camden Town - Leah Richmond’s house

On the other side of Regent’s Park, in a small residence in Camden Town and with Natalie Imbruglia’s most —and probably only— famous song playing in the background, Leah Richmond walks into her kitchen to find the broad-shouldered and tall figure of Johnny Suh. Her first instinct is to laugh at how ridiculously cute her boyfriend looks, dressed in a simple t-shirt, cuffed jeans that barely cover his ankles, and a yellow apron with a silly duck print, but upon registering the way he is angrily holding a frying pan and a plastic spatula, she decides against it.

“Is this about to become another how-do-you-even-survive-without-me speech?” Leah questions biting the inside of her cheek when he turns to look at her. The fact she has gotten used to Johnny’s slightly obsessive cleaning habits and long rants that remind her of her mother doesn’t mean she’s learned to appreciate them. Especially not when she has huge news to deliver. “If yes, I’d like to skip it or save it until you hear the news. I was on the phone with Tara and you won’t believe-”

“How stupid Mark is?” Johnny interrupts, he places the frying pan and the spatula on the counter before turning to the fridge. “You’d think he can’t possibly get worse, but he always delivers. I’m actually glad Tara is…” Johnny makes a pause to look at Leah and see her reaction, so far she looks perfectly confused. “…so brainwashed or so in love, whichever it is” he shrugs, earning a soft chuckle from his girlfriend.

“Wow, news surely travel fast.” Leah rolls eyes playfully and clicks her tongue disapprovingly “And Tara said I was the first person she called”

“Well, Mark was panicking and about to tell Tara he was joking, so-” Johnny pulls the fridge open with such force the door ends up hitting the wall. Johnny stops on his tracks, shocked by his own strength and expression mildly panicked making its way onto his face. Leah still wants to laugh, but there’s something holding her back, something she can’t quite figure out yet

In its place, she glares at her boyfriend until he’s purposely avoiding her eyes. “Great, destroy my house because you’re jealous of your crush getting married”

“And who are you even marrying to?” Johnny replies smoothly, earning himself a quick peck on the lips and a soft slap on the shoulder. Leah also gifts him with an inexplicable warmth spreading in his chest as she laughs.

“Now, for real, I know Tara doesn’t really care about that kind of thing, but I can’t believe Mark improvised a proposal.” Johnny pulls out a carton of eggs, picks a couple of tomatoes and pushes the fridge close with a loud thud. “That’s no way to ask the love of your life to marry you, where did he even learn about relationships? Clearly not from me or Taeyong” Johnny shakes his head in disapproval as he moves around the kitchen opening cabinets and taking out ingredients and supplies “I hope Mark is dealt with accordingly, no woman deserves such a lackluster proposal. Especially not Tara.”

“Well, knowing Ara and Adela, I’ll be surprised if Mark even makes it to dinner tonight” Leah chuckles “And don’t forget Enzo”

“Or her brother” Johnny shudders involuntarily when the image of Tyler Lee invades his mind. “Tara will be lucky if Mark even makes it to the wedding”

Minutes later when Johnny settles a plate of scrambled eggs and a mug of steaming coffee in front of her and complains about Mark’s “lack of creative effort in the romance department”, Leah finally dares to ask a question that has been reverberating inside her brain. “Hey, Suh, what’s the right way to propose to a girl then?”

Johnny is briefly taken aback. His eyes widen the slightest bit and he gulps almost imperceptibly before replying with a smart “You’ll know when I do it” that leaves Leah bursting out in laughter but feeling oddly flattered.

...

#johnny #leah #friends #minah #enzo #story #oc

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