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wondernimbus · 4 years ago

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two sworn enemies pt. 2 — draco malfoy

pairing: draco malfoy x female!reader

summary: maybe being fancied by draco malfoy isn’t so bad, after all.

requests are closed for now. please refrain from plagiarizing my work!

click here to read pt. 1!

"Why is it so bloody cold?"

[Y/N] is decked out in full winter apparel; a knitted Gryffindor sweater, ear-muffs, and a scarf that she has half of her face buried in.

Sitting in the Quidditch stands with the rest of her friends, she grumbles, "It's not even a Gryffindor match. We don't really have to be here freezing to death."

"Well, it's common courtesy," says Hermione, but she's just as cold as [Y/N] is; there's bits of snow stuck in her hair and the tip of her nose is pink.

Ron snorts loudly. “We’re here to watch Slytherin lose," he says matter-of-factly, still in the process of smearing streaks of blue paint across his cheek.

[Y/N] watches him, nose scrunched. "Well, aren't you the Ravenclaw fanatic."

He gives her a grin and holds out the small tub of paint. "Want some?"

She bunches up her lips in thought, then reaches out to take it. Annoyingly enough, Ron pulls back at the last moment, grinning wider than ever, and says, "Or d'you want to show support for your boyfriend Malfoy? Hermione, why don't you turn this green—"

[Y/N] dives over Hermione and Harry to smack Ron round the head, only for the pair to hold her back and push her into her seat.

Exasperated, Hermione huffs, "Honestly, Ronald, will you stop bringing that up?" She glares at him. "You know fully well [Y/N] doesn't like it."

Ron (and Harry, although he isn't as boisterous about it as the redhead), thinks that the "blond ferret" taking a fancying to her is one of, if not the most hilarious thing to have ever happened in history. Annoyingly enough, Ron has made it a habit to tease her about it every chance he gets—this one being one of them.

"If I didn’t know better, I’d have thought Ron fancied Malfoy with how much he talks about him," grins Harry. This earns him a smatter of blue paint across his face; Ron had flicked it at him.

With one last eye-roll, [Y/N] tears her gaze away from Ron and digs her nose further into her scarf. It really is very cold; snow is falling from the sky, seeping into her clothes, some landing on her hair and on her face. Thankfully there's not so much of it that the players on the pitch wouldn't be able to see around them, but still—[Y/N] imagines that it'd be a lot colder for them, having to fly around the stadium with the cold wind whipping at their robes.

There��s a buzz of loud chatter hanging in the air as conversations from all around them overlap over one another. The entire stadium is slowly filling up; students trickle into the stands, a majority of which have adorned themselves with blue accessories as a show of support to Ravenclaw. One side of the stands, however, is entirely green. Through the snow, she can see a big serpent-shaped balloon hovering over the Slytherin side.

"They’re coming out!" someone exclaims.

Sure enough, when [Y/N] looks down at the pitch, players from both teams have appeared and congregated at opposite ends of the pitch. Slytherin and Ravenclaw; whichever house wins will play Gryffindor for the house cup. Most bets are on Slytherin, but [Y/N] would have to be dead before she is caught anywhere supporting them.

"Look, it's [Y/N]'s boyfriend," gushes Ron.

More out of habit than anything, [Y/N] shoots the redhead yet another brief, scathing look. Draco Malfoy is there, even though he's nowhere near being her boyfriend, pale face set into a stoic expression of calm as he stands with the rest of his team, one hand on his broom and the other on his hip—and this specific image has her thinking back to what happened two weeks ago on this very same pitch, except the stadium was empty and it was only the two of them on the grounds; when he'd confessed to liking her.

As if Malfoy has somehow heard her thoughts over the noise of excited chatter coming from all over the stands, he looks up, eyes sweeping the seats in search for someone before finally, they land on her.

When he meets her gaze, [Y/N]'s breath isn't knocked out of her chest, nor does she start blushing madly. But she doesn't burn red with annoyance, either. All she does is stare at him, eyes narrowed, watching as his lips split into a wide grin and he raises his hand to wave at her.

She rolls her eyes, but thankfully—thankfully, the scarf tucked around her neck, reaching up to her nose, conceals the smile that tugs at her lips.

"May I ask everyone to please find themselves in their seats before the match begins," McGonagall’s voice echoes around the stadium, giving [Y/N] a reason to break eye contact.

She tears her stare away from Malfoy’s, inhaling a deep breath through her nose, feeling oddly exhilarated.

But this isn't anything new. That slight feeling of breathlessness, that unfamiliar sensation tickling at her stomach whenever she spots a certain someone in the hallway; she's been feeling it a lot lately, and though the cause seems to be pretty obvious, that is another thing she'd have to be caught dead before doing: admitting that she reciprocates some of Malfoy’s.. peculiar feelings.

"And they're off!" Dean Thomas announces. [Y/N] watches as the players soar high into the air until they're mostly level with the stands, a blur of blue and green robes rapidly zooming around the pitch. Slytherin is already in possession of the quaffle; not a surprise, considering Ravenclaw isn't exactly known for their exceptionally talented Quidditch team.

Malfoy, meanwhile—[Y/N] tells herself that the way her eyes dart around the pitch in search of a certain platinum blond is because she wants to watch the game properly and not for other reasons.

She spots him hovering somewhere above the rest of the players, face screwed up in concentration as his gaze moves around the pitch in search for the golden snitch. He looks even paler in winter, set against a backdrop of a cloudy sky and snow—

[Y/N] jars herself out of her thoughts and blinks, side-eyeing her friends (specifically Ron) to make sure they hadn't seen her.. observing the Slytherin seeker. (Not like it matters; it's not as though she fancies him, but Ron would certainly take it the wrong way.)

"Go Ravenclaw!" Ron practically screeches, waving his Ravenclaw banner in the air—when did he get that? "Kick Slytherin’s arse so Gryffindor can crush you in the finals!"

[Y/N] snorts. "Have it all thought out, don't you, Ron?"

"Go on and cheer for your Slytherin boyfriend, [Y/N], no one's stopping you," says Harry, grinning. She turns to face him, mouth open in disbelief, and lets out a quick breath of incredulous laughter.

"So, Harry," [Y/N] says, suddenly deadpan. ”I see you've chosen Ron’s side."

Harry snickers, then shrugs.

"Oh, Malfoy’s seen the snitch!" someone shouts from beside them. [Y/N] turns back to the game to see Malfoy zooming down the pitch, clutching the front of his broom as he swerves past Slytherin and Ravenclaw players alike in pursuit of the tiny golden ball all the way on the other side of the stadium, where [Y/N] and her friends are sat. He has the upper hand—Ravenclaw's seeker is only just now starting to fly after him, but she's a good distance behind and Malfoy is gaining speed.

"He’s gonna catch it!"

"Ravenclaw's even worse than I thought," grumbles Ron, slumping down in his seat.

But just as Malfoy passes by them, somehow, despite the fact that he is in pursuit of the bloody golden snitch and on the brink of securing victory for his team, he slows down just the tiniest bit, and then, in true Malfoy fashion—theatric as always in his displays of affection—he catches her eye and yells “This one's for you, [Y/N]!”, a grin on his face before he hurtles down the pitch, stretching out his hand towards the fluttering snitch—

"Malfoy’s got the snitch!" Dean Thomas screams into his microphone. "Slytherin wins!"

[Y/N] stares, feeling oddly warm despite the wintry weather, as Malfoy spins around in mid-air, triumphantly holding up the snitch for the rest of Hogwarts to see.

"Blimey," gapes Ron, wide-eyed, staring not at the Slytherin seeker but at [Y/N]. "That was—"

[Y/N] looks away from Malfoy to meet Ron's gaze, maintaining indifference. "He’s quite the charmer, isn't he?" she mutters, and hopes that her friends will think that the blush on her cheeks is because of the cold and not because of something—someone else.

But that's ridiculous. It is because of the cold, isn't it?

"It may be Malfoy," says Ron slowly, shaking his head, "But you can't deny that was bloody romantic. Felt like I was watching something out of one of those Muggle films."

"Yeah, we'll have to ask him for tips," says Harry, and starts laughing when [Y/N] rolls her eyes in response.

—

Malfoy may have stopped sending her Howlers, but that hardly matters because he has found every other way to pester her.

This includes consistently yelling out her name and shouting random pick-up lines every time he spots her in the hallway, as well as sending people to do her bidding—no longer first-years, but Crabbe and Goyle, who show up at random intervals everyday presenting her with a batch of different pastries. She always sends the pair off, but only after Ron and Harry accept said pastries for themselves.

"Blimey, this is heavenly!" gushes Ron, taking a passionate bite off of his second red velvet cupcake. "You sure you don't want a bite, [Y/N]? Hermione?"

[Y/N] offers him an exasperated smile. "No, thank you, Ron."

"Don’t thank me, thank your boyfriend."

The four of them walk into the dingy Potions classroom. Snape is nowhere to be seen, but it's only a matter of time before he swoops in all bat-like, so [Y/N] and Hermione quickly take a seat at their regular desk, right next to Ron and Harry.

"Have you done your homework?" asks Hermione, pulling out an assortment of parchment from her bag.

[Y/N] hums in response. "I doubt mine is half as good as yours, but hopefully I’ll scrape an acceptable."

"Oh, you're a good student, [Y/N]. Don't bring yourself down."

"Hard not to when I’m sitting next to the brightest witch in our year," she nudges Hermione’s shoulder, smiling. Hermione huffs, rolling her eyes, but it's clear by the pleased look on her face that she doesn't hate [Y/N]'s honest flattery as much as she lets on.

[Y/N] drums her fingers on the desk to pass time, not quite paying attention to the students filtering into the classroom. Or at least not until one of them calls her name and drawls, "Is someone sitting here?"

[Y/N]'s head snaps around to see none other than Malfoy, gesturing to the desk to the left of hers and Hermione’s. "Mind if I,” he pauses, grinning, "Slytherin?"

She purses her lips into a thin, tight line, inhaling deeply as she fights to keep her cool. Yes, there are times when Malfoy's gestures have her questioning her own hatred for him, but this—this is not one of them.

"That," she says, voice mostly level. "Is your seat, Malfoy. I don’t see why you have to ask me."

Which is a lie. [Y/N] knows why, of course. To get her attention. To woo her. But part of her wishes that Malfoy would realize that everything he is doing, from the overbearing pick up lines to the cupcakes to his constant public declarations of love, isn't something that [Y/N] thoroughly enjoys. Does she want him to stop yelling at her in the hallways? Yes. Does she want Crabbe and Goyle to stop bumbling up to her everywhere she goes (outside of the girl's bathroom is one example) offering cupcakes and pie and tarts? Yes. But does she want Malfoy to stop trying entirely?

Maybe not. Maybe part of her wants to give him a chance. He does seem to truly hold feelings, judging from his confession back at the Quidditch stadium, unless he's a terribly good actor.

And it wouldn't just be him she'd be giving a chance, either. Perhaps she'd also be doing so to herself. Because, over the past month, it's baffled her how quickly her feelings for him have shifted. Or maybe it's not a change of feelings, but rather realization that under all that sneering and pureblood prejudice, Draco Malfoy is a boy.

An annoyingly attractive one.

But there is so much more that [Y/N] dislikes about him. His snootiness. His arrogance. His lack of consideration for other people's feelings. He may be tall and lithe and undeniably handsome, and he may have very soft-looking platinum blond hair and stormy grey eyes like dark clouds, but he is also a prick. And that wins over everything else, no matter how.. visually pleasing he is.

So when a paper bird flutters in front of her halfway through the lesson, when Snape’s back is turned, [Y/N] hesitates. She knows fully well who it's from, despite not having to look to the side and meet his gaze.

From beside her, Hermione whispers, "Get rid of it, before Snape sees."

Exhaling, [Y/N] snatches the paper bird and quickly unfolds it.

She doesn't know what she's expecting to see, but it's certainly not the words "meet me at the Astronomy tower after dinner" scribbled across the parchment. And with a drawing of a face blowing kisses, no less.

[Y/N] sighs.

—

[Y/N] has no real feelings for Malfoy, so succumbing to his mysterious evening request at the Astronomy tower shouldn't mean anything.

Scratch that: it doesn't mean anything. Not to her. (Or so she tells herself.) This is a chance for her to tell Malfoy to sod off and to stop courting her. And for good, this time. No matter what that annoying little voice inside her head tells her, she can't possibly even consider the idea of actually giving in to him. (And to herself.)

So she's going to put a stop to it, once and for all.

"I’m going," she decides over dinner, slamming her palms down on the table.

"Going where?" asks Harry.

"The Astronomy tower," she replies resolutely.

"What, to go star-gazing?" Ron snickers. [Y/N] glances at him and realizes, quickly, that telling them had slipped her mind—she'd been far too preoccupied with her own conflicting thoughts.

She shifts in her seat. She doesn't necessarily need to tell them, does she? It's not as though it's important enough to share. And besides, Ron would only badger her about it. Mercilessly. [Y/N] can already picture him in her head, talking about Malfoy and snogging under the stars and Merlin-knows-what-else.

"Nevermind," says [Y/N], taking a bite out of a muffin and looking away. They don't need to know; it's not as though it's important.

—

After [Y/N] has walked up all of the stairs to get there, only taking one or two shortcuts, she's out of breath, but she creeps into the Astronomy tower anyway. It’s mostly dark save for the faint moonshine filtering in from the open sides, and, well—there he is.

Malfoy’s arms are crossed over his chest, his back mostly turned as he stands dangerously close to the railing, looking out over the dark landscape. Dim light catches on the side of his face, illuminating the grey of his eyes.

The curve of his nose.

Pale skin.

White-blond hair.

[Y/N] finds herself staring, one hand on the doorframe as though for support, brows furrowed in the middle in a slight frown as she watches him.

He looks lost in thought. Even from a few feet away, [Y/N] can see the far-off, distant look in his eyes. Like storms brewing behind dark clouds, she thinks to herself. It’s a quiet little whisper in the back of her mind that has her heart doing odd little flips inside of her chest that she never knew it was capable of.

But then she blinks.

This is the last thing [Y/N] needs. To see Malfoy stripped of his arrogance—to see him as he is, bathed in moonlight, glowing, almost. To look at him and to see a boy with eyes like molten silver and nothing more—it's the last thing she needs to convince herself that she doesn't feel something for him that isn't hatred.

No, she doesn't need this.

She turns around, breath caught in her throat, and starts walking down the steps. Accidentally, stupidly, her foot catches on a metal step and a loud clang echoes around the silent tower.

[Y/N] pauses, eyes wide.

"[Y/N]?" Malfoy's voice says. He can't see her. It’s too dark, and [Y/N] is too far down the steps.

She swallows. But instead of dreading what could come, she finds herself waiting, half-hoping that he'd check the staircase, that he would see her and—

And then what?

[Y/N] rushes down the steps, ignoring the loud noise her footsteps make on the way. This is the last thing she needs.

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, and she is determined to make that clear. (Both to herself and to her friends, although the former seems to be taking a lot more convincing.)

"What is there to like about him? He’s nothing but an annoying pain in the arse who has an overwhelming amount of pride and arrogance simply because of his blood—which is not only something that he never rightfully earned but is also something that shouldn't even bloody matter, except he thinks that it does solely because he is an absolute nutter who has nothing better to do with his life other than leech off of his parents' money and shove it in other people's faces."

Ron meets Harry’s gaze from across the table, who seems to be trying very hard not to laugh. Swallowing down a forkful of pancakes, Ron looks back at [Y/N]. "I’m sorry," he begins slowly. "But remind me again why we're talking about Malfoy?"

"I’m not finished, Ronald," [Y/N] snaps, shooting him a dirty look. Ron raises his eyebrows. "As I was saying before someone so rudely cut me off, Malfoy is a nasty little git who finds joy in making other people suffer. he probably has tiny puppies locked up inside his basement just so he can laugh in their faces and revel in their misery because he is that horrible of a person—"

Harry lurches with poorly suppressed laughter.

"An absolute terrible excuse for a human being! He basks in other people's humiliation—mine, for example!—and I would much rather snog the Giant Squid than ever actually consider his—" She pauses, gritting her teeth. "Odd.. requests."

"It’s not like he's asking you to murder house-elves," Ron mutters.

"Something that I would rather do than date him!"

"[Y/N]!" Hermione gasps, looking genuinely offended as she, for the first time since they'd arrived at the Great Hall for breakfast, looks up from the homework she's rushing to finish. (As if her five pieces worth of parchment aren't enough—Flitwick had only asked for three!)

"Sorry, Hermione," [Y/N] says, offering her an apologetic look that she only half-means. This quickly turns into a fierce look of challenge as she swivels back around in her seat to face the redhead sitting next to her. "Honestly, since when have you started defending Malfoy?"

Ron blanches. "I’m not defending him!" he says indignantly, setting his fork down on his plate. "It’s just.. yeah, it's a bit odd that he's declaring his undying love for you out of bloody nowhere, but he's stopped badgering us, hasn't he? Nasty little ferret hasn't said a word to Harry for weeks! And that goes for me and Hermione, too!"

[Y/N] narrows her eyes at him. "So you think it's great that he's stopped annoying you at the cost of my suffering?"

"What suffering!" Ron exclaims. "He’s been treating you like a bloody princess!"

"Oh, why don't you just snog him yourself, then, if you think so highly of him?"

Ron’s jaw drops in shocked offense.

"Alright, that's enough!" Harry announces, reaching over the table to shove the two apart from each other. "Why doesn't one of you switch seats with me before you end up strangling each other?"

"I don't know, Harry," [Y/N]'s lip curls. "I might have to hold Ron back before he goes running off to his ferret prince—or should we just let him? Merlin knows he'd love to, won't you, Ronald?"

Ron’s teeth are gritted; his eyes dart around the food on the table as though looking for the most effective weapon. He seems to be choosing between a green apple and rhubarb pie.

Thankfully, Ron never gets to take his pick. The bell rings, saving everyone in the Great Hall from witnessing what could have possibly been a brawl between friends. "Come on, let's go," says Harry quickly, relief evident in his tone of voice as he ushers the pair to their feet. "Wouldn’t want to be late for class."

—

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy.

[Y/N] doesn't like Malfoy, but why does she find herself staring at him whenever she comes across him in the hallway the next day? Why, when Malfoy meets her gaze, does she look away and pretend to be immersed in something else?

And why in the bloody hell, when Malfoy playfully winks at her during Potions class, does she find it very, very hard not to smile?

She walks out of the dungeon classroom in a hurry with Ron, Harry, and Hermione, not wanting to spend a minute more in Malfoy's presence; she doesn't particularly enjoy being suddenly hyperaware of every move he makes, every little glance he sends her way when he thinks she isn't paying attention. It’s as though something in her system has gone awry. Is that why her heart feels like it's about to hop right out of her chest? Is that why she can't stop wondering what would've happened if she'd stayed at the Astronomy tower?

"Hey, wait up!” Harry calls loudly as they walk up the stone steps leading away from the dungeons and into the main hallway, which is bustling with students.

[Y/N], who had been walking far too fast in front of the three, looks back over her shoulder and sees that they're a few feet away. She stops, seemingly flustered, and waits for them to catch up.

"You look like you've wet your pants," says Ron.

"I’m not you, Ron," she retorts.

"Oh, can you two please stop bickering for once?" says Hermione, exasperated.

From behind the three, Draco Malfoy emerges from the potions classroom and begins walking up the stone steps. [Y/N]'s hands clench into fists at her side as she discretely presses her back to the stone wall at her sides.

The blond doesn't even as much as glance at Ron, Harry, and Hermione as he passes by them on the steps. [Y/N], however—once Malfoy has reached the step below the one she's standing on, he pauses, no less than two feet away from her, and quirks an eyebrow.

"What?" [Y/N] scowls, trying not to look at the strand of blond hair dangling in front of his eyes.

Malfoy’s gaze dances over her face. "Was it you?"

She meets her friends' eyes over Malfoy's shoulder. Ron and Harry have their eyebrows raised; Hermione looks concerned. [Y/N] takes a moment to compose herself—tries to force her heart back into her chest—before she folds her arms across her chest and looks at the Slytherin. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"At the Astronomy tower," Malfoy says, and moves up one step so that he's standing on the same one she's on. A foot away. "I heard someone last night, while I was waiting for you."

Oh, Merlin.

"You came, didn't you?" he presses on.

"No," [Y/N] lies, and hates how defensive she sounds. She shifts a little on her feet, her eyes skirting away to look at a random spot behind Malfoy. "I was.. at the library. Doing things of actual importance."

There’s a slight pause as Malfoy's nose wrinkles. "Must’ve been someone else spying on me, then," he finally says through a scoff, but [Y/N] knows disappointment when she sees it. He rolls his shoulders back and puts on his signature smirk, inclining his head towards her as he takes another step up the stairs. "Better hurry and give me an answer, [Y/N]," he tells her, grinning. "Before one of my admirers get to me first."

[Y/N] watches as he walks up the steps and disappears into the hallway.

"The library?" a voice says incredulously. She turns back to Ron, whose face is scrunched in disbelief. "No, you weren't! We were waiting for you there and you never came."

[Y/N] folds her arms across her chest indignantly but doesn't respond, instead walking up the stone steps.

"Malfoy said he was waiting for you at the Astronomy tower," says Hermione slowly as they trail after her; [Y/N] speeds up her pace. "Is that why you mentioned going there during dinner last night?"

[Y/N] emerges into the main corridor first. "No, I didn't."

"Yes, you did!" bursts Ron, sounding downright triumphant.

"Congratulations, Ron, you don't have the memory range of a teaspoon, after all," [Y/N] mutters, looking around. Malfoy is walking down the hallway a few feet ahead of them, Crabbe and Goyle at his side.

Ron ignores her. "I bet you did go. I bet you did spy on him—" And then he gasps, looking as though he's unearthed the secret of life. "Merlin’s beard, you really do fancy him, don't you?"

[Y/N]'s footsteps falter. Ron, Harry, and Hermione stop right with her.

Hermione is the only one who doesn't look stunned out of her mind. Looking between the two boys, she rolls her eyes and scoffs. "Honestly, is that so hard to believe?" says Hermione, frowning. "I understand that it's Malfoy and he is a prick, but [Y/N] is perfectly entitled to fancy whoever she likes." She turns to [Y/N]. "It’s fine, [Y/N], you don't have to feel guilty about it. Anyone would catch feelings if someone started doing such sweet things for them, even if it were someone like Malfoy."

"Blimey," says Harry, breathless. "Which part sealed the deal, [Y/N]? The pick-up lines? Or was it the cupcakes?"

[Y/N], who had been opening and closing her mouth like a fish blown out of water, finally stops trying to find words that just aren't there and instead drags her palm across her face in frustration. "I don't.." she says, sounding defeated, but really—now that she's faced with such confrontation, it's easier to admit to herself that maybe.. maybe she does fancy Malfoy.

Ron’s lips have split into a jubilant grin. ”I called it!" he says, smacking Harry's shoulder. "Bloody knew it!"

Hermione reaches out to rub [Y/N]'s back. "Don’t feel too bad about it, [Y/N]. I sort of knew—you looked at him differently after he confessed to you on the pitch."

[Y/N] sighs, realizing that no amount of denying it will convince her friends. Or herself.

She does fancy Malfoy.

Properly acknowledging it—finally admitting it to herself—is oddly relieving. She’s been keeping her feelings cooped up inside of her chest despite the fact they are so much bigger than her, and now that she's letting them burst free.. now that she's coming to terms with them..

Well. It’s not the worst feeling ever.

Ron is still beaming, looking as though he's won the lottery. And apparently, in a way, he has: "Fred and George said it'd take you a month longer to give in. I said it'd take you less—guess I’ve won myself two galleons!"

[Y/N]'s mouth falls open. "You bet on this?"

Ron raises his eyebrows, as though surprised to hear that she didn't know. "Uh, I and the entire bloody castle."

Struck by a sudden burst of both annoyance and confidence, [Y/N], scowling, detaches herself from her friends and strides down the hallway towards Malfoy, full of intent. He hasn't noticed her yet; his back is still turned, but she catches up to him easily. And when she does, she unceremoniously bumps her shoulder into his and grabs his hand, quickly interlacing her fingers through his.

"What the hell—"

Malfoy, obviously taken aback, tries to pull his hand away, sneering, until his gaze lands on [Y/N].

"Keep walking, Malfoy," she says scathingly, not quite looking at him.

Baffled, Malfoy stares at her, then down at their hands, which are now tightly interlocked between them. [Y/N] scowls resolutely at the hallway ahead of her.

And then Malfoy laughs, more out of disbelief than amusement.

"Keep walking," [Y/N] repeats, this time turning to look at him, fighting to keep her gaze indifferent. The last thing she wants Malfoy to know is that there is an onslaught of tiny little butterflies rampaging in her stomach and a tingly feeling spreading from their hands all the way up her spine and into her heart.

Malfoy’s lips tug up into a wide grin—a real one, [Y/N] thinks. Not an arrogant smirk or a deprecating sneer; one that she can't ever recall seeing. But now that she has, she finds herself wishing he'd do it more often.

[Y/N] tugs him along as she walks, feeling the stunned stares of her friends boring into her skull from behind. (Ron is going to have a field day about this.)

"So," Malfoy begins, and she doesn't have to look at him to know that he's still grinning down at her. "Changed your mind, haven't you?"

[Y/N] rolls her eyes; she doesn't fail to notice the way that the students they're passing by are staring at them, eyes wide, whispering to themselves. "Isn’t this what you wanted?"

Malfoy shrugs. "Among other things."

She side-eyes him, muttering, "Does that include snogging?"

He makes an amused sound at the back of his throat. "You said it, not me."

[Y/N] has to grit her teeth to stop the corners of her lips from tugging up. They turn a corner down the hallway, disappearing from both their friends' views (assuming they haven't followed them). At this thought, [Y/N] takes a brief glance over her shoulder—and sure enough, there's a redhead peeking out of a group of very confused Ravenclaws.

Cursing Ron Weasley inside her head, she turns her gaze back ahead of her. ”I have Charms class next."

Malfoy raises his brows. "And what do you expect me to do with that information?"

"Walk me there," says [Y/N] briskly.

She can practically feel the surprise radiating off of the blond next to her. A moment later, he throws his head back in a loud laugh. "And you want me to be late to Transfiguration? It’s all the way on the other side of the castle."

[Y/N] hums. "Can’t even do that for the girl you fancy?"

There’s a beat of silence. His grip on her hand falters a little as he says, voice still nonchalant and yet at the same time holding an undeniable sense of sincerity, "I could if I knew she wasn't leading me on."

"She isn't," [Y/N] says, glancing at him out of the corner of her eye.

Malfoy is staring at her with his brows pulled in together just slightly at the middle, giving off the impression that he's trying to decide whether or not she's being serious. He slows down his pace until he comes to a full stop, urging [Y/N] to halt alongside him until they're standing in the middle of the hallway, oblivious to the stares following them and the redhead a mere few feet away.

"How do I know this isn't a prank?" says Malfoy, lip slowly curling as he narrows his eyes at her, the first few traces of suspicion etching itself onto his face now that the whole ridiculousness of the situation has finally sunken in. [Y/N] can't blame him; her antics—suddenly marching up to him in the hallway, grabbing his hand and walking with him as though they've been doing it for years—all of it is uncalled for after having ruthlessly turned him down so many times before. But [Y/N] can't delve into a discussion of her conflicting emotions—at least not right now—so she hopes, at least for now, that he will take her word for it.

She clears her throat. "Well," she begins, looking down at their hands; Malfoy’s grip has gone slack. "If I wanted to hold your hand, I’d do it because I wanted to. Not because I wanted to get a rise out of you." She lets her gaze go back up to his, brows rising in familiar challenge. "I don't stoop that low, Malfoy. You’ve been in love with me for years—shouldn't you know that by now?"

There are a few seconds in which the blond standing before her still looks at her with a scrutinizing gaze, lips set into a thin, hard line and his eyes swimming with conflict that [Y/N] wouldn't have been able to see from afar, but sees in perfect clarity now that she's standing a mere foot away from him. But then, after what feels like ages, Malfoy nods, slowly, frown smoothing out into an expression of—could that be relief?

"I will be late for Transfiguration, you know," he says, lips quirking up into a grin.

[Y/N] laughs. (A real one, Draco thinks to himself.) This time she doesn't try to stop herself from smiling; just lets her lips do so of their own accord. It feels nice. Freeing. "Better just one of us than two, don't you think?" she says, mirroring his playful grin. "And besides, Goyle can stand in for you. You two do have quite the resemblance."

"Oh, sod off."

And it really is very odd, because everything about this shouldn't feel right; they've been enemies for the longest time, and a year ago, [Y/N] would have been revolted at the mere idea of ever coming close to Draco Malfoy—but it does. That is, it feels right. Like they've been this way for ages and this playful, harmless banter is the most natural thing.

Draco isn't perfect—Merlin, does he have a long way to go—but if he means to stop being a prat as long as [Y/N] is at his side, then she is willing to venture into whatever has formed between them.

And if this little bond is going to involve any more of this—this being her and Draco exaggeratedly swinging their arms between them as he walks her to Charms class with their fingers still intertwined, snickering, waiting for one of them to start complaining about their arm sockets hurting—then maybe it isn't the worst thing ever, after all.

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collecting-stories · 4 years ago

Text

Book Club - 90s!Luke Patterson

Summary: Reggie books a gig at a suburban mom’s book club and Luke takes full advantage of the situation to flirt with you.

A/N: I’m literally writing two other Luke fics right now 😭😭

Julie and the Phantoms Masterlist

✰ ✰ ✰ ✰ ✰

The third Thursday of every month belonged to your mother. It was her day, when she demanded not to be bothered, when she spent hours out of the house socializing with the women’s group that she belonged to. And, out of all those Thursdays, there were always the very special few when it wasn’t her leaving the house but everyone else. The group rotated their meeting time, everyone for a blue moon meeting at your house, meaning, of course that you were expected to stay out. Staying out was not a difficult thing to do, in fact you relished the opportunity to spend a few more hours with your friends. 

It was one of those Thursdays, when all the ladies that your mother loved to lunch with were spending the afternoon at your house and you were making yourself scarce, that arguably the weirdest but maybe best thing happened. Your mom had told you before you left for school that morning that she expected you to stay out, and you would have, if you had remembered your wallet. But you’d left it in your room, on the edge of the vanity, and you didn’t want to be the one owing money when your friends went to lunch. A quick stop home should’ve been easy, the stairs were right off the kitchen and the side door was right there, giving you the opportunity to shoot upstairs and grab your wallet without her being the wiser to it. 

The whole thing would’ve gone off without a hitch except that when you walked through the side door and into the kitchen you came face to face with four boys from your school. You recognized them more for the fact that you didn’t hang out in the same circle; most of your friends held a certain level of contempt for the four guys that made up Sunset Curve. You didn’t necessarily dislike any of them, you didn’t necessarily even know them, though you would be lying if you said that the lead singer, who occasionally sat in front of you in math, was seriously making you rethink a deep dive into all this rock music. Luke, Reggie, Alex, and Bobby were standing in your kitchen. They were the Green Day/Nirvana worshipping, head banging rockers that ditched school regularly and got into worlds of trouble and they were standing in your kitchen.

Bobby was the only one who looked up from snacking on leftover hors d’oeurves, saying your name in surprise as the other three all stopped to look at you too. Alex gave an awkward little wave as he set down the small sandwich he was eating.

“Uh...what are you guys doing in my house,” you asked, looking between the four of them.

“Your mom tapped us to perform for her ladies club.” Luke explained, dropping his food on the plate and wiping his hands against his black pants.

Your mom had invited these four to sing for her conservative ladies’ group? You tried not to but you couldn’t help the smile that crossed your face when you thought about it. Whatever your friends said about the guys, you weren’t ashamed to say you had taken one of the free demos that Reggie handed out and had been listening to it on repeat for a while now. “My mom wanted you guys to play a gig for her and her friends?” You clarified.

“Until we started playing,” Reggie replied, and you couldn’t help laughing.

“I bet...you guys aren’t exactly...suburban mom rock.” You joked, “though I totally would’ve loved to see their faces when you guys started singing.”

The grin on Luke’s face was unmistakable though you missed it as you nabbed one of the sandwiches on the plate near Alex. It was probably some really stupid cliche, him liking one of the popular girls. Cute, cheerleader, future prom queen. You hung out with people who listened to Britney Spears and Spice Girls, any knowledge of the rock scene they might’ve actually had was only for the sake of making dumb jabs at him or his friends. Still, Luke had a massive crush on you and he wasn’t so embarrassed to admit it. Bobby joked that he wanted to “bring you over to the dark side” and maybe that sounded cynical but he thought he wouldn’t mind seeing you look a little less perfectly put together if it had something to do with him. Hearing you mention his music almost had him doing a back flip from excitement.

“So you’ve listened to our music?” Luke asked, moving closer to you, leaning on the counter beside you. Behind him, Alex rolled his eyes.

“Reggie gave out demos like...last month.” You shrugged, trying to play it off. You’d been excited to listen to their music, see if it was any good and had discovered that you actually loved it. They were talented guys and you felt surprisingly connected to the songs. “I might’ve listened.”

“I did!” Reggie piped up, “I gave demos to all the-” he stopped, mouthing instead, as if you wouldn’t understand him when he said ‘all the cute girls’.

“I hate to ask but...don’t you think like, actual clubs would be better places to promote your music? I don’t think the middle-aged moms are really a target audience, unless you’re into that kind of thing?” You said, peering down the hallway when you heard the familiar squeak of a floorboard. If the boys were still here than there was no doubt in your mind that your mom had told them to stay for some reason or another.

“You gotta start somewhere.” Luke replied, unfazed by the hint of judgement in your voice.

“My living room?” You asked, jokingly.

He smiled, “actually, we’re playing a club on the strip tomorrow night, we could, maybe, get you on the guest list?”

“We’re opening for someone else,” Bobby cut in, bringing Luke back down to reality, “I’m pretty sure no one’s ever even heard of the band we’re opening for.”

Luke glared at Bobby, sticking his finger in his mouth and then jabbing it into Bobby’s ear, a smile of success immediately lighting up his features when Bobby recoiled in disgust. “So what’d ya say?” Luke asked.

“I mean, I guess technically every band deserves girls screaming for them, so sure…I’ll go.” You agreed, eyes on Luke the entire time.

The last concert you had been to wasn’t even for you, your mom had dragged you to a Beach Boys concert up in San Francisco for her birthday weekend when your father refused to indulge her so-called ‘terrible taste in music’. “There are just some things we will never agree on and music is one of them.” He had insisted back then. It was the same thing you felt like telling your friends when you declined a party invitation in favor of heading down to the strip to see the guys play. You could’ve maybe played it off casually, as if you were heading down there anyway and Sunset Curve just happened to be opening but Bobby was right, you’d never heard of the band that was performing after them.

Not to mention Luke decided to show up for a least a quarter of the day just to mess with your head. You had spotted him in the hallway between classes and smiled when he looked your way, a split second before the sea of students scrambled to get to their lockers. Your own best friends appeared by yours, looking more and more like carbon copies of the Heathers every day. You kind of hated them, truth be told, but you didn’t have too many other options.

They were badgering you about the party as you tried to wrack your brain for an excuse that sounded convincing when Luke stopped, right in front of the three of you.

“Hey, I’ll see ya tonight?” He asked, whole body turned to face you and completely ignoring the looks of disdain and shock cloaking your friends faces.

You felt like a deer in headlights. Say yes and your friends would probably ostracise you, say no and you could just imagine the look on Luke’s face. Anything but this absolutely sincere and hopeful smile was something you didn’t want to be responsible for. You really liked him looking at you like that.

“Yeah, can’t wait.” You nodded.

When he stepped back out into the traffic of the hallway he touched your waist, as if he was anchoring himself for a second and you bit your lip, letting yourself watch him disappear before turning to face the firing squad.

“Luke Patterson?” Both of your friends spoke in unison, one breaking off to elaborate, “you’re ditching a party at Max Turner’s house for Luke Patterson?”

“His band is playing at some club on the strip.” You replied, shutting your locker and heading toward your next class. “They invited me to come watch the show.”

“And you’re going?”

You hadn’t been to anything smaller than a stadium concert before and the implication of a concert at a local club venue, right on the strip with all the ‘riffraff’ that were hanging around trying to make it big like their 80’s punk rock idols wasn’t exactly your scene but, Luke had looked so cute asking you to go and you had the tiniest, maybe delusional, feeling that he’d come to school just to remind you that tonight was the concert. How could could even consider some suburban house party to that?

“Yeah, why not,” you shrugged, trying to play it off like it was nothing, you could see your social status flashing before your eyes and your mom’s voice desperately begging you to reconsider. “Besides, Luke’s hot.”

“Did you have some kind of Freaky Friday switch when you woke up this morning? Luke is not hot.”

“Okay,” you drew the word as if disbelieving. He wasn’t some 90210 reincarnate but he was definitely one of the hottest guys in school, not to mention the sleeveless shirts were an added bonus. “Well, I said I was going, so I’m going.”

And, despite the continued protests of your friends throughout the day, you did go. You promised your parents you were spending Friday night studying at Terri’s house and took the bus down to the strip to wait in line for Sunset Curve and whoever was headlining. You stood there twirling your fake ID in your hands, listening to the two girls in front of you (who didn’t need fakes) talk about some drummer that wasn’t anyone you’d ever heard of and tried to look as mature as possible. If Luke, Alex, Reggie, and Bobby could play this venue, surely you could get into it.

Whether the ID worked or the bouncer at the front door just didn’t care, he let you through, admitting you into a pulsing crowd of people making their way through the small vestibule and into the venue. You slipped your way through the crowd until you made it to the front, pressed against the railing and inches away from another bouncer who seemed just as disinterested in you. The drumkit that was already on the stage had the Sunset Curve logo on it. You ran a hand through your hair and fixed your shirt, maybe it was silly but you were sort of hoping that even in the silhouetted lighting of the venue you Luke might see you. Maybe a little pathetic groupie on your end but he had invited you.

And he did see you. Halfway through Now or Never when he looked down over the crowd, he caught you, dancing along to their music, the smile on your face as you mouthed the words was infectious. It was the combination of seeing someone singing all the songs back to them and that person being you, mixed with the adrenaline of the performance, that had him pushing to give his absolute all. You’d actually come and he was determined to make this a great concert for you.

Alex was the one to announce that they would be in the vestibule during the lull between bands, they got the occasional straggler who dared to leave their post long enough to say hello or great job but usually it garnered nothing more than the four of them splitting some pizza and relaxing by their merch table. Tonight, as they headed off stage to an enthusiastic crowd, Luke chanced a glance back but he couldn’t find you in the sea of people. Reggie grabbed his arm, pulling him the rest of the way off the stage and throwing an arm around his shoulder, going on about how awesome the show was, Luke quickly returning the jovial compliment.

“We were fire, man, that sounded so rad tonight!” He cheered, following Alex and Bobby as they made their way through the small hall that wove back into the vestibule.

“It was insane!” Reggie agreed.

You had made your way back through the venue after Luke mentioned being at the merch table, slipping back passed the bouncer at the inside door, flashing your stamped hand. Their table was set up in the corner, a little way away from the headlining band’s. You stepped into the vestibule at the same time as the boys, waving at Alex when he looked your way. He nodded, reaching over to tap Luke’s chest with the back of his hand.

“That was incredible.” You admitted, walking over to their table. Luke’s smile instantly widened as he walked around to your side, not even thinking as he hugged you, your shoulders hunching at the feeling of sweat that encompassed you. “Ew.”

“Sorry, sorry.” Luke apologized, pulling away and putting his hands on your upper arms for a second before dropping them to his sides. “Still going off the adrenaline.”

“That’s okay,” you promised, “you’re cute enough to get away with it.”

“Yeah?” He leaned against the table, trying to look cool. He felt like he was grasping for words and he didn’t want to start stuttering or sounding dumb, Bobby would never let him live it down if he made a fuck up of himself. The other three tried not to laugh and ruin his moment.

You seemed to recover from the moment first, glancing at the other three before landing on Luke again. “You guys are totally a live band though...like that was so good.”

Reggie came in with a save, letting Luke off the hook for a moment, “Are you heading back in to see the headliner?”

You grimaced, “don’t really know them...not really interested.” You replied, keeping your eyes on Luke, hoping that was hint enough that you’d come just to see him.

It clearly was because, as a few girls stepped into the vestibule and looked like they were coming your way, Luke grabbed your arm, nodding toward the doorway for you to follow him. You did, walking with him into the hallway so that it was quieter, the sounds of the house music and the chatter of people outside being drowned out in the small corridor.

“So, uh, sorry I’m still wigging out that you came.” He admitted.

“I said I was going to, twice. Did you seriously think I was lying?” You asked.

“I mean, I heard your friends giving you a hard time when I walked away, figured you might back out.”

“Well, I’m glad I didn’t, seriously Luke, you guys are amazing. You’re so talented.” You replied.

“Guess I was right when I told Reggie to take that book club gig huh?” He said, fiddling with the rabbit’s foot on his keychain.

“Why’s that?”

“I thought maybe if I was lucky, I’d catch a glimpse of you...having you come here and watch us though? Better than I could’ve imagined.” He replied, grinning at you.

“You wanted to see me?”

“Yeah, don’t act so surprised.” He said, “you gotta know how insanely cool you are. And you look beautiful tonight, by the way.”

“Thanks,” you bit your bottom lip to try and keep your composure, “I uh...damn, you’re making me super nervous.”

“Yeah?” He stepped a little closer to you, his hands brushing against yours as if he was going to hold them. You couldn’t help wishing he would.

“I should probably let you get back to your fans,” you pointed out, glancing back out the door to where a few more people had gathered. If you stayed in this hallway with him any longer there was no way you were letting him back out.

“Hang out? We could grab some pizza or something after?” He asked.

“Yeah, absolutely.”

When he walked back through the door you followed behind him, hanging back so you weren’t hovering around them as they chatted with and signed stuff for the group of people that had ventured out between sets. It didn’t matter though, as he talked, he kept looking back at you smiling as if you were both in on some sort of secret.

#luke patterson x reader #luke patterson x y/n #luke patterson x you #luke patterson imagine #luke patterson fanfic #luke patterson fanfiction #luke patterson fic #julie and the phantoms fic #julie and the phantoms fanfic #julie and the phantoms fanfictions #julie and the phantoms imagine #jatp fanfic #jatp fanfiction #jatp fic #jatp imagine #collecting stories imagine

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animeyanderelover · 4 years ago

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Hey can you write yandere Tooru with promo 21

Who would have thought that Tooru would be so beloved?

Warnings: Yandere themes, mental unstableness, killing, blood, violence, split personality

Prompt 21: “I don’t care if I’ll go to hell as long as I drag everybody who dares to touch you, talk to you and look at you with me!”

“I don’t care if I’ll go to hell as long as I drag everybody who dares to touch you, talk to you and look at you with me!” They had just snapped, you knew it from the way the whole atmosphere around them had just changed. It was the way all shyness had suddenly disappeared from them, the normal blush they always had on their face being completely gone. Instead this weird grin was on their face, and being put together with their quivering pupils and not even to mention the blood that was splattered all over their face and clothes made them look like a complete psychopath. The person under them, a ghoul who had tried to attack you, was by now long dead, the bloody puddle in which Mutsuki was sitting leaving no doubt about it. But that didn’t make it less shocking for you. You were used to killing ghouls, it was part of your job. But what shaken you to your bones was the way Mutsuki had killed her. You had chased after her for a while now, she had been A-rated and known under the name “Mistress”, telling everyone already what they could have imagined her like. She lured her victims with her body and looks away, flirting with them only to devour them, didn’t matter whether it was a man or a woman. She had been damn close to your district which had been the reason why you had wanted this case, fearing that your friends might get in contact with her.

So if you tried to look at it from the perspective of an investigator, you shouldn’t be angry at all. Mutsuki wouldn’t be the first crazy fellow the CCG had, you thought about a special stitched up boy who currently led his own squad, not to mention the legendary Mr. Mado. And sometimes a few crazy fellows were needed in a messed up world like this. But those two were a different kind of crazy, a good kind of crazy. But Mutsuki...You didn’t know what to think about this. You hadn’t even known that they had followed you in the first place. Weeks of tracking Misstress down, weeks of planning and taking her down had proved unnecessary. Not only that, but Mutsuki had just taken down an A-rated ghoul on their own. Sure, they had catched you both off-guard, but still. The sheer violence they had used together with the repeatedly chanted phrase they had murmured every time they had stepped her still being way too present in your way, even though it had happened just a few moments ago. “Stay away from (y/n)-sama. Stay away from (y/n)-sama. Stay away from (y/n)-sama.” And you, you had just stood there horrified, not being able to move. You-you had been afraid of one of your one people! This shouldn’t have happened, especially not since you had always supported Mutsuki since the day you had first bumped into them. But on the other hand, was this really the Mutsuki you had once known?

“(y/n)-sama.” You tensed up the moment they addressed you directly, their intense stare burning right into your heart and soul. You were afraid, you knew that from the way your heart started beating fastly against your chest and you felt sweat coating your forehead. Nothing new as a ghoul investigator, but this was a new kind of fear, a new kind of nerve wrecking situation. One with which you were faced for the first time, meaning that you didn’t know how to act and you doubted that even if you would have someone older with you, they wouldn’t have known how to handle this either. Ah yes, the fear of the unknown. “(y/n)-sama. Why are you looking so scared? I killed her. You don’t have to be afraid anymore.” They slowly stood up from the corpse, revealing a bit pretty sight and you guessed that every other person would have broken out in tears, vomited or fainted by now. But as sad as it may have sounded, you were faced with this kind of view on a daily base. “Bitch.”, Mutsuki mumbled, glaring heavily at the ghoul and kicking her dead body, in your opinion completely unnecessary, but you didn’t dare to say anything. How could you when Mutsuki was clearly not in their right set of mind?

It took everything inside of you to not suddenly pull your Quinke out and hold it against them. That would be too much of a risky move and right now you didn’t want to do anything to trigger them even more. You also hoped somewhere in the back of your mind that they wouldn’t hurt you because of their undeniable crush on you. Everyone in the CCG knew, Mutsuki being a bit too obvious with it. And no matter from which perspective you tried to look at it, you also couldn’t deny that they had done this to save you. You would have never guessed how far they would really go nor how unhealthy their love really seemed to be. For them to become a completely new person...It made more the impression on you that this was an obsession. You had successfully let yourself get fooled by their timid and shy appearance, a mistake no one who killed ghouls should make. Appearance didn’t matter, damn it! Even the tiniest girl could prove to be your worst and last enemy! But you had gotten carried away, had closed your eyes because they were one of your kind, they were on your side! So why...Were they even realizing how they were acting? Probably not. The only thing on their mind now was you, you could tell from the way they were staring at you as if you would be someone higher than them, someone to admire.

With slow and somewhat wobbly steps they moved closer to you, the two knifes in their hand which they had used to kill the ghoul off still dripping with blood. They looked like a butcher. But you didn’t run, you simply couldn’t. Mutsuki was a precious person to you, someone you had sworn to keep an eye out. You had always been there for them, always encouraged them, had always cheered them up and had shown them kindness. This was your fault, you had to fix this. Their eyes never left you for once, glazing with a worrisome and also eerily amount of obsession at you. “(y/n)-sama.” They straightened up a bit when in front of you, still keeping in mind that you were a special class investigator, a job you had hardly worked for. You didn’t doubt that in this condition they could easily take that title too, but even then they would still show you the same amount of respect. You would always be higher for them. “How did I do? I did alright, right?” “...” You couldn’t believe it. Did they seriously just asked you whether they had done a good job or not? And their voice...It had shaken a bit! Not only that, but there was a certain glance of insecurity which seemed to grow with every passing second you gave them the silent treatment. Oh god, they wanted your approval. They had killed for you and now asked for your approval, for your opinion whether they did good or not.

But your shocked state where you couldn’t form any kind of words seemed to discourage them. They hunched over, pale-green hair covering their face and suddenly they bowed. “I-I’m sorry, (y/n)-sama. It was bold from me to assume that my skills would ever be able to compare to yours. Y-you’re the greatest. I apologize for interrupting your investigation. I didn’t think clearly. But I would never doubt your abilities! I know that you could handle this on your own and that I had no right to-“ Before they could continue their apology speech from which you had the feeling that it would take a while you placed a hand on their shoulder. “Tooru, stop it.” Calling them by their first name was always a good way to calm them down, they loved it when you called them by their first name. They had already tensed up the moment your hand had touched their shoulder, but the moment you called them by their first name they instantly jolted up, looking shocked, but also touched at you. You sighed a bit, looking with a somewhat conflicted expression at them. You had to make a judgement call in here. And you guessed you had already decided. “There’s no need to apologize. You just took a raising threat for this district down so don’t even think about apologizing. You did great today. I knew you had potential. So stop doubting yourself.”

Hearing you complimenting them like this caused a furious blush to form on their face, trying desperately to stutter something out in response. You chuckled a bit upon seeing this, noticing with relief that the Mutsuki you knew was back once again. You quickly took your phone out of your pocket, starting to dial the number of one of your friends in. “Would you eventually do me a favor and tell my friend here that we caught Misstress? I’m sure we can make a very useful Quinke out of her Kagune.” You handed them your phone, number already on display. By now Mutsuki couldn’t even manage to look you into your eyes for longer than a few seconds, grabbing with shaking hands your phone. “Y-yes (y/n)-sama.” Whilst they nervously started to call your friends in the CCG, you took the time to observe the dead woman closer. And you couldn’t help, but press your lips into a thin line when seeing everything from close-up. Countless stabs were visible on her, the eyes being gouged out and the lips being cut that it reminded you almost of the way Joker in Batman looked like. It didn’t throw you out of your calm, you yourself had often made quite made the mess during missions. But all of this had been done by Mutsuki...

You glanced shortly at them, the way they fumbled over their own words whilst trying desperately to make sense on the phone, explaining what had just happened. They looked like they would suffer a heart attack at any moment, making you almost feel like that you had just hallucinated all of this. But you hadn’t, one look at the ghoul being enough to tell you that all of this had been real. And that could mean problems. You bit nervously on your bottom lip, glancing again at the green-haired investigator. It would be probably a wise decision to stay away from them or report this, that would tell everyone you right now. But you didn’t. You wanted to observe this for a bit before deciding what to do. And you also knew that trying to distance yourself now from Mutsuki would be dangerous, not being able to anticipate their reaction to this. You had to stay close. Because as much as you dearly hoped that Mutsuki would never go that far, you couldn’t deny a very possible reaction that could happen one day when they would snap again. And then the next victim wouldn’t be a ghoul. No, then they would have the blood of a human on their hands and it would also be your fault. “I have to watch them. I have to keep an eye on them. Or else...”

#yandere tokyo ghoul #yandere tooru mutsuki #yandere tooru

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doyelikehaggis · 6 years ago

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Kylex+ 11

First of all, thank you so much!! Secondly, I’m not sure if I got slightly carried away or not but I really hope this is at least sort of what you wanted!!

The second that Alex walks in through the doors of the Wild Pony, he’s met with the sound of Maria’s voice, firm and bordering on lecturing. He smiles to himself, quickly wondering if he can guess just which regular she’s having to threaten with a lifetime ban for exceeding the limit she’s had to set for them.

People in Roswell don’t have much else to do than drink.

“That’s it, you’re cut off,” she says as he approaches the bar, catching sight of her.

She’s in the middle of taking an empty glass from someone, pulling back slightly as if they’re trying to reach for it. Alex is thankful he’s never been on the receiving end of the look she sends the poor person.

“Come on, Maria, I’m fine.”

Alex’s eyebrows furrow, his eyes focusing in on the back of the person sitting on the stool in front of her. The voice is all too familiar, except he’s almost positive it can’t be him.

Maria scoffs, shaking her head. She happens to glance over in his direction as he nears the bar, their eyes meeting. The relief shows on her face as her expression softens, the exasperation quickly turning into a warm smile.

“I was wondering where you had gotten to,” she says to him, her free hand moving to her hip. “You never miss a chance to come in on Wednesday nights just so that I can harass you to finally do karaoke. Is tonight my lucky night?”

Alex smiles back. He stops in between two stools, leaning his hands against the edge of the bar and now the one shaking his head.

“Afraid not,” he replies, amused by her feigned huff of disappointment. “Try again next Wednesday.”

“You’re no fun,” she says. Her eyes then shift to his left, her expression taking on an edge of wariness. “Though that doesn’t mean I want a fight in here either. I’ve already had to deal with Racist Hank, I don’t need to be breaking up the two of you as well, do I?”

“Don’t worry,” Kyle says as Alex finally looks at him. He waves a hand vaguely, looking up at Alex with a lopsided smile. “We’re good. Right, Alex?”

Maria glances at him as well, obviously not taking a word that Kyle says as the truth. Alex can’t entirely say he blames her; just one quick sweep of Kyle is telling him something’s not right.

Still, he nods, sucking in a breath as he shoots her a reassuring smile.

“Yeah, it’s okay,” he says. “We’re all good. The past is the past, right?”

“Right,” she says with a slight nod and an obviously still uncertain smile.

“Does that mean I can have that refill?” Kyle asks her.

He points to the glass still held up in her hand, out of his reach. She glances from it to him and lifts an eyebrow at him.

“No chance,” she says flatly. “Come back when you’ve had a glass of water, a shot of caffeine, and aren’t one more drink away from needing to have your stomach pumped by one of your own coworkers. Then I might reconsider.”

She doesn’t leave any room for argument as she turns away from him. She shoots Alex an exasperated look before moving across to the other side of the bar to attend to another customer.

“Guess it’s time to switch venues then,” Kyle says with a sigh. He looks up at Alex, raising his eyebrows questioningly. “You wanna come with? Saturn’s Ring is pretty good. Not only do they have great booze, but they’re also an alien-free zone, surprisingly enough.”

His voice is far too loud when saying the word alien for Alex’s liking. He turns fully to face Kyle as he goes to stand up.

Stopping him with a hand on his shoulder, Alex’s head tilts, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“Are you drunk?” he asks, despite it feeling like an obvious answer. It’s unsettling him to see Kyle so unfocused, his eyes glazed over and everything about him just completely off.

Kyle looks at his hand, then up at his face with a slight laugh.

“Of course I am,” he answers easily, making Alex gape at him in disbelief. “Can you blame me? I mean, my life is a mess. I just found out my dad was murdered. By an Alien. Because of your dad. I think that’s deserving of a drink or two, don’t you?”

Alex falters. He drops his hand from Kyle’s shoulder, glancing away as something twists in his stomach. Caulfield’s been replaying in his head all day, as much as he wants the images erased completely.

Kyle closes his eyes and the regret is written all over his face as he shakes his head slowly.

“I’m sorry,” he says, the words lacking the same edge, softer. “I didn’t mean… it’s just a lot.”

Alex nods, looking back at him. “I get that. I’m still trying to process it myself, but I can only imagine how you must be feeling right now.”

Kyle just tries for a slight smile, his eyes moving down to the bar.

“That’s why you’re here?” Alex presses carefully, his head tilting as he tries not to let the concern show in his voice. He doesn’t need Kyle to confirm it for him, and rests his hand back on his shoulder. “Look, man, if you need someone to talk to about this, I'm—”

He cuts himself off when he squeezes Kyle’s shoulder the tiniest bit in the hope of comforting him and he instead winces. The look on his face contorts into one of pain, his jaw tightening.

Alex quickly pulls his hand back, eyeing him in unhidden concern with furrowed eyebrows.

“Are you okay?” he asks. “I didn’t mean to—”

“No, it’s not your fault,” Kyle says through gritted teeth. He turns his head enough to meet his confused gaze. “I came here because alcohol typically helps dull the pain of being shot. Turns out, even with a bulletproof vest, it still hurts like hell afterwards. Thought I would have seen that coming what with being a doctor and all.”

Alex’s eyes widen, his eyes moving back down to his shoulder. “Someone tried to shoot you? Who?”

Kyle pauses, then glances up at him nervously as he says, “your dad.”

Alex stops. He blinks, his wide eyes impossibly wider as his eyebrows draw together in confusion. For a split second, he goes to argue that his dad isn’t in town, but stops himself. Of course he’s in town.

Even with the threat Alex made, he was never going to stay away. It was inevitable that he would come back eventually, he had just hoped it wouldn’t be so soon.

He swallows and focuses his attention back on Kyle.

“I’m sorry,” he says, shaking his head, his eyes staying on his shoulder. “Did you, uh… get it checked out?”

“It’s just a bruise,” Kyle says, brushing it off. “It’ll stop hurting in a week or so. I don’t think it did any real damage to my shoulder or anything like that. I’m just lucky he didn’t aim for my head.”

The thought has Alex’s stomach churning, and he is definitely following through on what he threatened now.

“Why don’t we get out of here, yeah?” he suggests, inclining his head towards the door. “I think I’m gonna have to agree with Maria on cutting you off for the night.”

“No, it’s fine,” Kyle says, looking up at him, but Alex notices the way the words nearly blend together. “I can get home myself, you don’t have to help me. I’m not that drunk.”

Alex isn’t convinced. Still, he doesn’t argue. In the beginning, whenever someone offered to help him because of his leg, he almost always shot them down, so he gets it.

He watches Kyle push himself up from the stool, his hands flat on the bar. He shoots him a smile, goes to take a step, and nearly collapses.

Alex suppresses a laugh, biting it back as he quickly moves forward to help. He steadies him with his hands on his arms. When Kyle looks at him, sheepish, Alex simply raises his eyebrows in amusement.

“Alright, so I’m a little drunk,” Kyle admits with a roll of his eyes. He then pokes a finger at him, lightly jabbing into his chest. “But you really don’t need to help me get home. I won’t shut up the entire way, and then I’ll end up trying to make you stay, and when I wake up, I’m going to have embarrassed myself. It’ll be better for both of us if I just walk.”

“You are a weirdly self-aware drunk,” Alex comments, letting his hand slide from one of his arms but keeps the other in place. He then sighs, giving a slight shake of his head with a small smile. “But unfortunately, I can’t let you walk home like this on your own.”

“See, that’s the problem,” Kyle says almost as if in defeat while Alex slips his wallet from his pocket, taking out what he’s assuming is roughly about what he owes Maria. “You’re too nice to me. And thoughtful.”

“Not letting a clearly drunk person walk themself home in a town where people keep showing up dead is more or less just something a decent human being would do,” he says to him while slipping the bills onto the bar before turning back to him and gesturing his head at the door. “Come on.”

Kyle shakes his head but doesn’t protest about Alex guiding him through the bar with a hand on his back.

“It’s not just that,” he says firmly. “It’s… everything. You’re so… you, and it's driving me crazy.”

“Was that a compliment or an insult? It almost sounds familiar,” Alex jokes with a sideways grin.

“Compliment,” Kyle decides without missing a beat as they reach the door and leave the bar. “Because I don’t know how you do it. You’ve been doing it since we were kids, and I’ve never understood it.”

Stepping out onto the street, they’re hit with the cold night air. Alex raises an amused eyebrow at him.

“Exactly how many drinks did you have?” he asks.

“Enough to tell you that you’re amazing,” Kyle says. His eyebrows knit together as he pauses. “Wait, no, I would have told you that anyway. Because you are. But I mean, like… I think you’re great. Really great, in a… I just really like you.”

Alex has to suppress another laugh, doing his best to keep a straight face. It’s impossible, especially with how Kyle’s swaying ever so slightly while Alex is doing his best to lead him over to his car.

“Careful there, Valenti, you’re starting to sound like you have a crush on me,” Alex teases as he slips his keys from his pocket.

He unlocks his car and makes sure Kyle is safely leaning back against it before going for the passenger door.

Kyle’s eyebrows furrow. “But I do.”

Alex falters in his step, coming to a complete halt. He looks back up at him, and for a good second, he’s certain it’s the alcohol in his system that made those three words come out of his mouth.

“You do?” he repeats slowly, his eyes widening. “Kyle, you’re still really drunk. Let’s just—”

“No, I mean it,” Kyle quickly says. His eyes dart over his face, the corners of his mouth pulling up. “I do really like you. Not just as a friend or even a crush, you know? It’s more than that. I don’t lie when I’m drunk, I swear.”

Alex takes a moment, processing, watching him. He has to go over the past few weeks, because how did he miss this? For one, he had no reason to believe that Kyle wasn’t straight, and that’s one thing on its own that he’s trying to wrap his head around. But how he missed him liking him?

“I believe you,” Alex says, and he does. He nods slowly, and Kyle’s face lights up, his smile widening. “I just… think we should talk about this when you’re a bit more… sober.”

“I get it,” Kyle says, shrugging. His eyes then narrow a tiny bit. “But… out of curiosity, is that conversation going to involve a really big rejection? It’s totally cool if it does, but I might need another drink before we leave.”

Alex can’t help but smile, his mouth curving up without him able to do anything about it. He shakes his head and sucks in a breath. His feelings for Kyle haven’t always been the clearest, but they certainly were when he was eleven, and they are now.

“No, it won’t,” he says softly. “I really like you, Kyle. But I would really prefer to have this conversation with a version of you that isn’t two seconds from passing out.”

Kyle nods understandingly. “Got it. Makes total sense. And, personally, I can’t wait for that conversation.”

Alex huffs out a breath of a laugh, rolling his eyes at him. Grinning, he finally opens up the passenger side door. When he moves back to Kyle to help him in, he stops him, holding up a finger.

“There’s just one little thing I really wanna do first, and you can absolutely lecture me for it tomorrow during that conversation, but right now, I am just drunk enough to not be that worried, but sober enough to know what I’m doing.”

Before he can get a word out, Kyle leans in, barely having to move that far. His lips brush Alex’s, a ghost of a kiss, really. It’s barely there at all, and yet enough to satisfy Kyle.

He pulls back right away, and all Alex can do is blink at him, wide-eyed and practically gaping.

Kyle swallows, then smiles, his head tilting. “Okay, I’m good now.”

Alex snaps himself back, his heart skipping a beat in its usual steady rhythm. He clears his throat, and Kyle’s lazily smug but overjoyed expression is doing nothing to help. With a smile, he guides Kyle into the passenger seat of his car.

Kyle catches his hand before he can move away and lingers on letting it go. His face is definitely on fire when he gently pulls away and watches Kyle lean back in the seat, turning his head to look out at him with a bright smile.

#kylex #kyle valenti #alex manes #roswell new mexico #roswell nm #fanfiction stuff #otp: you're the bravest person i know #i'm so happy you sent in a prompt!!#i wasn't expecting to get any at all so this is a nice surprise #i hope this is okay!!#oflockwolves

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icarus-imagines · 6 years ago

Text

Yusuke Kitagawa X Gay!Artist!Shadow!Reader

I have a request a Yusuke X Gay!Artist!Rival!Reader

Pwettty Pwease OwO

Word Count: 2,765

Category: Persona 5

~Choose What Your Heart Decides~

Why is he talking to her?

You couldn't help but let a sour expression invade your face as your (E/c) orbs secretly watched the scene in front of you unfold from your desk by the window, where you had been previously doing your homework until you heard their voices engage together.

It was Yusuke Kitagawa, the handsomely gifted painter you admired so much who was conversing with a friend. But he wasn't the one who had turned your mood foul. It was her. His friend.

Ann Takamaki.

A sweet, kind, and a very compassionate girl who always looked good in everything she wore. A well-known model. She was most beautiful, but undoubtedly not more beautiful than the calm and poetic specimen she was having a conversation with.

Though very attractive to many of your male peers you would never be attracted to her in such a red colored red. You knew if you had been born to love females like God had intended, or so people preached, you knew you would have gotten a troublesome crush on the girl. But that wasn't the case.

You had feelings of red for Yusuke.

Though color red was an odd way to explain it, you felt it most appropriate to explain it in such an elegant way, just like Yusuke was. You and he were one in the same, both paid terms. But unlike him, you were not known to be one. The reason being you had an anonymous name. (A/n). You didn't want people to know you because you were scared. But that was a sad note not wanting to be touched.

Stashing away the easy Calculus homework you had been working on you sighed lowly slinging the bag on, forgetting your sketchbook on the desk. While doing so you fixed your hair a bit from the tiniest OCD, making sure you're shiny locks of (H/c) were perfect and not out of place.

Taking a few steps forward you began to make your way out the door. Even though school ended about 10 minutes ago you stayed to finish the homework like a good student. Yusuke didn't go to this school but often visited after the bell to speak with his friends. Not that you were a stalker, but you had witnessed it multiple times since you sat behind the silent and mysterious boy named Akira Kurusu and his best friend Ryuji Sakamoto. And it was weirder that Akira for some reason had a cat in his desk and bag at all times. Yet nobody noticed. You thought you may have gone crazy contemplating on if it was real or not.

Shaking your head to rid yourself of the thoughts you continued on your way, noticing you had slowed while thinking. You almost stopped in your tracks as Yusuke's silky voice traveled to your ears. But the words he said sounded like long nails on a chalkboard. Horrible and unsettling.

"Takamaki-san, I must remind you that you still have not accepted my request. Surely you will make up your mind and readily agree to become my model for the next masterpiece I plan on creating?"

"Tch," Was all that escaped past your (Plump/Thin/Etc.) lips not waiting for Ann's response to such a generous and thoughtful question. You didn't hear the words exit her mouth as she agreed.

To imagine a beauty of a woman posing in various positions, whether they be innocent or lustful you had no idea, but in front of Yusuke. He would have to gaze at her body for hours, maybe even longer!

Leaving the classroom to calm yourself by walking home, you missed the confused looks of Akira, Ryuji, and Ann. But more importantly, you missed the saddened and very puzzled expression belonging to a certain boy named Yusuke who realized you had forgotten to take your sketchbook. He would have to find you and give it back if he ever had a chance to.

~*~*~*~

Yusuke sighed once again at his teammates as they tried to figure out where to go next. They had been tracking down a tainted aura through the other world known as Mementos wondering what the individual was after.

They noted it that it would actually stay close to them. But disappear as they approached to close. So they decided to use a different tactic. I stead of following the actual Shadow, they would find its so-called nest of sorts. It's home. Usually, they wouldn't work this hard at finding a Shadow, but this one seemed a bit stronger. Some kind of Mini-Boss.

Walking for a few minutes they came upon a house. It was a pulsing red, with red roses scattering the front lawn with its vines scaling all around the house. They even trailed through every open window, including the door that was also open, to the center of the house. It was as if it was tiny. They had been correct. This Shadow was stronger than normal. It seemed to almost be on the verge of creating a castle and them wouldn't let that happen. Not when they were so close.

Careful of the beautiful but dangerously sharp crimson roses that all seemed to ooze out from within their petals mahogany liquid thick like blood, Yusuke gazed at the house with confusion. It was familiar. Like he had seen it before. But that was utterly impossible. But...he had to make sure.

Turning to his comrades, The Phantom Thieves, behind him who were peering at the roses on the ground with a mix of fascination and bewilderment he spoke to them.

"I would like to investigate further inside, alone. If that is alright," he said simply watching as the eyes behind each mask of his friends looked at him with confusion. He just replied, "I'll explain later, if that is alright, leader?"

Akira stood there for a few seconds weighing the pros and cons before giving a small nod of approval.

Yusuke bowed his head the slightest bit thankful. "I'll be quick."

Yusuke turned to the house, knowing that if it was not in Mementos it would have a small garden in the front and very cozy. Pushing the door he entered the home. Instantly the hairs on his body sprung up. It was cold. Something was here.

Taking a few cautious steps he entered a hallway. But stopped seeing paintings of every size imaginable with varying emotions swirling within each canvas. Not only did he perceive this as an artist himself, but it was easy to figure it out because it was literal. Each painting was moving.

The light ones were merrily filled with laughing, dancing, singing, and anything of the like. While the darker, more saddened paintings were filled with crying and depressed scenes depicting fears. Fears manifested from the artist or just plain inspiration was beyond Yusuke.

Shaking his head to rid thoughts of the sad Shadow he looked to the end of the hallway freezing as he saw it. Standing in front of the door at the end of the overly long hallway. It was him. The Shadow.

Yusuke's face behind his fox mask dropped. He knew who was and it tightened his heartstrings.

It was you.

You wore your normal school uniform. You (H/c) hair perfectly styled, just like always Yusuke noted fondly. But you're eyes. Yusuke cringed at the color. Instead of familiar (E/c) he was used to gazing into, even when you didn't look back, was now a dull yellow. Such an ugly color on your visage.

This time though you were staring straight at Yusuke. Unlike other Shadows you were silent. Hands straight at your sides but shaking slightly. You were nervous. Scared maybe. Of me?, Yusuke thought. It seemed like it.

Yusuke turned to pop his head out of the door to look at his teammates. "Nobody is present. Maybe they are around the area and we should split up?" he offered. They looked at him curiously, but since he never lied or tried to ever deter them in any way they agreed. Splitting up and searching. But Yusuke stayed behind, closing the door before walking back to the hallway.

His eyes widened a bit seeing that you had disappeared. But he was quick to see you had disappeared behind the door, evident from it is slightly ajar.

Careful as he walked slowly down the long hallway Yusuke glanced at the many paintings on each side of the hallway. The roses with vines trailed along the walls, even the ceiling, and floor. All growing thicker and wilder as they trailed into the room. And he noticed with surprise there was thorns. The ones closest to him were dull and short, but the closer he got to the room they grew longer and much sharper.

Placing his palm on the door he pushed it open, cringing slightly at the small squeaking of the ominous door. Peering inside he was taken aback by the scene displayed before his eyes.

The roses were even more wild, spiraling to the bed in the back. Thornes creating a small barrier at the base. And there you were. Still nonspeaking and it looked like you had been crying, obvious from the tears slowly running down your porcelain face as you sat silently on the sheets of the bed that were satin and shiny.

Yusuke drew nearer, walking over the vines that looked to be steadily beating like that of an actual heart. Stopping mid-way through watching curiously as you froze in shock. You had thought he had left you alone to wade in your river of sorrows.

Yusuke leisurely walked towards you, careful as not to scare, as he sat down beside you. Resting his hands on the bed, leaning back, he closed his eyes wondering what you would do. It wasn't long before he heard the bed sheets shift slightly and you're smooth voice enter his ears.

"Kitagawa-Ku-"

"Yusuke," he said cutting you off though he knew it to be incredibly rude and ungentlemanly. But he had to get it across you could call him by his first name. He did care about you. Turning to see you had now faced him, sitting on your knees he wanted to chuckle but instead, he revealed his face by taking off his kitsune style mask. "You can call me, Yusuke."

He watched as your an expression that was once depressed brighten instantly. A small smile flickering on it. "Yusuke...why are you here? Is it...Is it because you wish to steal my heart? To change it?"

Yusuke looked at you amused. Did you want him to steal your heart? If so he would do it in a heartbeat, pun not intended. His grey eyes that would, from somebody else's view look dull and not full of life, were gleaming happily.

"Do you wish for me to steal your heart?"

Your face flushed quickly, yellow eyes cast down now embarrassed. "If you want to...I wouldn't be against it."

Yusuke took off his bright blue gloves revealing flawless and unscarred skin. Discarding his gloves on a random part of the bed he brought his right hand up to cup your cheek. Your eyes widened slightly turning to stare at him.

"I am afraid to say I cannot change your heart, you have to do it yourself," he said his thumb caressed your cheek in a soothing manner. "You are the deep inner self of the one I admire."

"You," you started confused. "You admire me?"

Yusuke nodded confirming your statement. "I recognized your art in the hallway. They are the same as the new painting I've seen in the museum."

"You recognized them, even though I'm anonymous? I'm quite honored. Your art is beautiful, on a whole new level. Hopefully, I can become like you one day."

Yusuke hummed, sadness flitting across his face for a second. "Don't worry about becoming like me. Stay who you are and I'm sure you'll be a great artist. The same goes for your heart. Changing it is up to you."

You looked down once more then back up, leaning into his hand. Yusuke felt and saw the vines with roses start to pulse. Maybe it was somehow connected to your heart.

"I'll change I promise. I'll not only change for you, but I'll change for myself."

Yusuke nodded reluctantly removing his hand away from you and covering them both with his gloves. Standing up he turned to you once more, his mask dangling from his fingers.

He looked at you for a few seconds as you took this precious time to admire him. His hair was shiny. A brilliant blue matching his costume. Lithe in form with the beauty of a fox. A calm and collected individual with an intelligence like no other. An aspiring painter with skill just opening. How lucky you were to be able to get close to him.

He leaned down after a few seconds planting a chaste kiss on your forehead that would most definitely bloom into a brilliant flower. Making you think of something. Though it is clearly random.

"I should get a tattoo," you say simply taking him by surprise. But replied with a small smirk, happy at seeing you open up and say more. He could see it in the way your eyes grew brighter, even with the ugly yellow that still resided in them.

"And what will it be off, may I ask?"

"I'm thinking of a rose. Nothing big, just on my wrist or something," you said explaining why it wasn't just a spontaneous thought or decision. "Three roses. Pink, Red, and White. Do you think this is a good choice?"

Yusuke placed his hands on your shoulders putting his forehead on yours. His eyes close to yours gazing into them serenely. You could feel his breath fan your lips making you blush.

"It is up to you to decide what is right or wrong. Be careful what you choose," he said his presence leaving you. He turned walking to the door, but before he closed it, slipping on his mask he turned back to you with a sparkle in his eye.

"Choose what your heart decides, (M/n)."

~The End~

Fun Facts:

-In dreams hallways, whether they be long or short, are interpreted as the dreamer having untapped psychic abilities. In this case, it's the reader's art. They have not yet reached their full potential. Another interpretation is the frustration the dreamer has of being in a repetitive situation. The reader feels they have been this hallway for a long time being that they have always wanted to speak to Yusuke, but have never been able to walk the length of it. Always staying at the beginning. While Yusuke took the steps needing to reach the reader. In reality, not Mementos, the hallway is shorter. Making this dream real in a way-

-Rose tattoos have their own meanings. The obvious meaning of being love and beauty. But the color creates a deeper feel making the meaning of the rose richer and more unique.

The first color mentioned was Pink. Symbolizing healing, first love, and innocence.

Healing: The reader will heal from their past mistakes and jealousy.

First love: The readers first love is Yusuke. And vice versa.

Innocence: The reader is new to love. Young and vibrant.

The second color mentioned was Red. Symbolizing romance or passionate love. But they also represent sacrifice.

Romance/Passionate Love: The love between the reader and Yusuke is more of an innocent love, but it can sometimes be romantic and passionate. An effect from their artistic personalities.

Sacrifice: The reader has sacrificed their old ways to be with Yusuke. When there is the love you need a sacrifice. This proves the love you have for each other is genuine.

The third color mentioned was White. Symbolizing purity, mysticism, and a secret admirer.

Purity: The reader is pure when Yusuke is with him. Become pure.

Mysticism: Taken from how Yusuke talked to the readers inner self in Mementos.

Secret Admirer: The reader and Yusuke were both secrets admirers of each other. Though now it's out in the open~-

#x reader #oneshot #imagine #drabble #persona #persona 5 #yusuke kitagawa #yusuke kitagawa x reader #yusuke kitagaea x male reader #yusuke kitagawa x artist reader #yusuke kitagawa x shadow reader #request #fun facts #phantom thieves #dreams #male reader

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marywardvvell · 6 years ago

Text

how it was

rating: m/pg-13 pairing: sabrina + madam sabrina/lilith summary: Lilith thinks about Sabrina. And then she does something about it. (sabrina is 18 au) read on ao3 here or below

It was annoying, the cheerfulness; the toothrottingly sweet smiles and the way she all but skipped into class, the way she believed the best in everyone despite knowing what darkness the world held and the how she demanded justice never though justice for women like them was merely a fairytale.

“Thank you,” Sabrina said as they stood in the darkness, demon banished from its mortal host. It gave Lilith pause, this genuine thankfulness. No one thanked her, no one had reason to. The warmth of Sabrina’s hand in hers still lingered from earlier exorcism.

Was she ever that innocent? Did she ever believe that someone would be kind just for the sake of kindness? Maybe once, but only for a few fleeting moments. She wasn’t born, she was created from the dust and to the dust she’d return one day. When she first opened her eyes she was both younger and older than Sabrina, but time was young too and juxtaposition didn’t worry her then.

Wherever Sabrina went, Lilith followed in the shadows. She trusted her, or rather, she trusted Miss Wardwell and further intertwining their lives was easy. It was a cup of tea here, a listening ear there, and a helping hand whenever the young witch found herself in trouble. It was a romanticing, a seduction, gaining Sabrina’s total trust and loyalty. And soon Lilith knew the little songs Sabrina hummed when getting ready, the way she always put others before herself in the tiniest of ways whether it was holding doors in the rain or whispering protection spells over her friends.

There was a moment, days before she’d told Sabrina she was a witch, one forever burned into Lilith’s memory, when she heard the softest murmur outside her office door. Moving closer to the closed door she let her eyes shut, stretching her powers out to see Sabrina, facing the door with both hands up and swaying in a trance-like state. The words Sabrina spoke were familiar, a protection spell, gentle like a blessing and strong like a curse. Startled, Lilith stifled a gasp and remained still on the other side of the door long after Sabrina had gone.

…

It was aggravating, the purity; the curl of her blonde hair and the curve of her neck. Just looking at her apple red lips Lilith knew Sabrina had never been properly kissed. She’d known immediately why The Dark Lord wanted Sabrina, she was exquisite with untapped power humming through her veins. When Lilith was near the girl she could almost taste in.

Miss Wardwell’s sheet are maroon. In between sleeping and wakefulness is when Lilith imagined the contrast of Sabrina’s pale skin and blood red of the sheets. That thought alone is enough to drive a lesser demon insane but she went farther. Maybe she was already insane, maybe she has been for a while. Corrupting Sabrina’s soul was one thing, but corrupting her body would have so much more fun.

She could easily imagine the way Sabrina’s white-blonde hair would look fanned out in her pillow. She could almost taste the way the magic would feel on her skin. In her mind’s eye Sabrina wouldn’t shy away, trying to hide her nakedness like Eve, but give herself fully over to Lilith’s hungry eyes and her wandering touch. How beautiful she’d sound, gasping Lilith’s name until the sun rose again.

But instead, she wrapped Sabrina’s slender wrist with red yarn to anchor them together, forcing herself to keep to the task at hand- crushing Sabrina’s spirit- and not how lovely she’d look tied to Miss Wardwell’s four poster bed. Slowly, she unwound the ball of yarn and watched her disappear into limbo.

…

It was maddening, the way she cried. The way a single quiver of the lip and drop of salty tear could make Lilith’s chest hurt. She was the most powerful demon imaginable but the sight of the half mortal girl crying on the other side of the mirror made Lilith feel more powerless than she had in years.

She hated feeling weak, hated fluttering in her chest and the tears that pricked the corners of her own eyes. It reminded her of a time when the stars burned bright and young, when she swore to never be weak again.

…

It was terrifying, letting her get so close. Sabrina’s light made its way into every crack and cevase of Lilith’s life. As much as she despised teaching those little mortal children, she looked forward to seeing Sabrina in her classroom, enjoyed when she stopped by her office, coming over to her house for midnight tea.

Sabrina let herself into Lilith’s office one afternoon, cheerfully smiling at her as she placed a shiny red apple on her desk. Her smile was so bright, so welcoming and kind, that Lilith wanted to hurt her, wanted to terrify her and show her exactly what a monster she was.

She caught Sabrina’s wrist and jerked her closer. She watched the catch in Sabrina’s breath and her pretty smile that dropped for a split second as her flush deepened. But then the smile was back, bigger than before and it was wonderful and totally unnerving to Lilith.

“Miss Wardwell?” Sabrina glanced from her face to where her wrist was being held captive.

Lilith released her, stepping back, “I- is there there something I can do for you?”

“I just wanted to see how your day was,” Said Sabrina, “And give you the apple of course.”

“Of course,” Lilith nodded, of course, she was just stopping by to be kind, “Well my day has been pretty uneventful.”

“Sometimes those kinds of days are nice,” Sabrina said, then gave a little wave, “I’ll see you tomorrow Miss Wardwell!”

“Yes, I will,” she murmured, watching Sabrina disappear out the door, her heart pounding, face flushed with a feeling she’d not felt in millennia.

Love.

…

It was wonderful, when Sabrina trusted her. True, Sabrina trusted too freely and quickly but one night she appeared on Miss Wardwell’s doorstep, poorly concealing her tears.

She knew what day it was, of course, Lilith always did her research and after only a handful of leading questions, Sabrina broke down in tears saying it was the anniversary of her parents death.

“I’m so sorry love,” Lilith murmured offering Sabrina a handkerchief and patting her knee. But soon she was petting her hair, letting Sabrina cry herself to sleep with her head in Lilith’s lap.

…

It was idiotic of her to forget why she’s there. Stupid to forget why she was sent to Greendale in the first place, who she answered to, her mission to complete.

But with Sabrina’s signature on the dotted line, she’s forgotten, she’s been forgotten by her dark lord and savior.

(Was she really saved? Or did she merely exchange one master for another?)

…

It was horrible, the look on her face when she burst through the door. The light was gone, a horrible mix of anger and fierce hurt marring her features. The office down rattled as Sabrina slammed it shut behind her, stalking up to the desk with Hell Fire burning in her eyes.

“Sabrina!” Lilith exclaimed, as if she didn’t immediately know. There was only one thing that would make Sabrina so angry at her.

“You’ve been working for him this whole time!” Sabrina yelled, “You tricked me!”

“Keep your voice down!” Lilith hissed, drawing herself up to her full height. Sabrina paused, faltered, but stepped forward with the full force of her anger again.

“How could you? I trusted you! I thought-“

“What? You thought what Sabrina? That I liked you? That I wanted to be your friend? That you were special?” Lilith sneered the last word. Leaning against her desk she threw her head back with a wicked laugh. It was easier this way, easier to crush her than beg for forgiveness.

Pretty tears spilled over, big, salty drops rolling down Sabrina’s face, “You made me sign The Book Of the Beast.”

“I didn’t make you do anything my dear, that was all you,” said Lilith, “if anything, you should be thanking me- look at all this power that’s at your command! You’re the most powerful witch of this realm, hell, you could smite me right now if you wished.”

“I could never do that Miss Wardwell,” Sabrina said, backing towards the door, “Because I am not a monster.”

It was like knife was plunged through her chest, icy and sharp. It wasn’t supposed to go like this, this wasn’t supposed to happen. But Sabrina was right, who else would be sent to sully her soul?

With the flick of her wrist the lock slid into place, trapping them together, and in several steps she was upon her, pressing Sabrina into the locked door. Every trace of anger had disappeared, leaving only hurt fear in Sabrina’s eyes. Her little human heart pounded in her chest so loudly Lilith could nearly hear it.

“Let me go,” Sabrina breathed, “Please Miss Wardwell, let me go,”

“Are you afraid?” Lilith leaned in, tongue flicking out to catch one of her salty tears, “Afraid of what your monster will do to you?”

Sabrina trembled, “I’m not afraid.”

“You know, we’re not so different you and I,” she said with a sad smile, Lilith’s fingertips traced their way up from Sabrina’s jaw to her temple.

“I’m nothing like you,” Sabrina hissed.

“Oh?” Lilith chuckled softly, “What about when you told dear, dear Harvey about your witchy little secret?”

Realization dawned on Sabrina and she struggled, tried to escape, “No! Don’t! Please don’t erase my memories! I’ll just find out again like I did!”

“Shhh shh,” Lilith cooed as her magic took effect, “It’s almost over, soon, my love, this will just be a bad dream.”

Sabrina stopped fighting, a glassing look clouding her eyes for a moment. Then she blinked up at Lilith.

“Miss Wardwell?” The fire and fury were gone from her face, replaced with the gentle innocence Lilith had come to know.

“What happened?” Sabrina asked, “I don’t remember… why are you holding me?”

“You fainted my dear,” Lilith released her, stepping back, “You almost fell. When was the last time you ate?”

Sabrina shook her head, “I don’t remember. I think I should head home though.”

“Would you like me to drive you?”

“No, I can manage,” Sabrina said and gave her a little wave.

“Sabrina! You know you can talk to me about anything, don’t you? I’ll always be here for you,”

Then that brilliant smile was back, “Of course Miss Wardwell, See you tomorrow!”

Lilith smiled back, a sad smile that didn’t meet her eyes, “See you tomorrow, Sabrina.”

…

It was frightening, when he appeared before her. The Dark Lord was always a fantastic sight to be seen, striking fear into the hearts and souls of all who dared look upon when his cloven feet. In his presence, Lilith could do nothing but fell to her knees.

“Rise my wicked and faithless servant,” he said, “Name the reward you desire for your service in delivering the Spellman girl to me and it shall be yours. Let it be anything, anything at all.”

In one hand materialized a golden crown and in the other a scepter, “Would like to rule Hell? Have all the earth bow to you? Kings and Queens, Presidents and Prime Ministers would answer to you alone, begging for mercy and sacrificing their own spawn for your favor. Would you like the stars? Would you like to pull the tides and bring chaos to the mortals here? Throw fire from space and show them what the heavens are truly made of?”

“I want the girl,” she said, loudly, clearly, “I want Sabrina Spellman. You claim her soul for yourself but I want the deed transferred to me. I want to her to belong to me and me alone to do with as I wish.”

“One single little girl?” The Dark Lord sneered, “That you’ve spent so long securing for me? Whatever for?”

Having the clearest of minds, all distraction and true desires hidden away was the only way to barter with him. Lilith didn’t think about her smile or her gentle ways, she didn’t think about how Sabrina was the only person in centuries to care.

“She’s a pretty thing,” she said, instead, “And we both know how powerful she is. I want to see her on her knees, I want to make her beg.”

“I could show you that now,” he hissed.

“I don’t want to share.”

Even evil was bound by conventions and The Dark Lord had already promised her anything she wished. With a flourish the deed to Sabrina’s soul was presented to Lilith, her name written in red ink as the owner.

“She’ll never love you, Miss Wardwell,” The Dark Lord said, “Only I can love you.”

…

It was heavy, the paper, the deed written in blood ink, undestroyable by both heaven and hell. That’s how deeds to souls were, they stood the rest of time, weathered any mortal storm.

It wasn’t just physically heavy but emotionally. The deed to Sabrina’s soul weighted on the heart Lilith thought she’d cut out of her chest centuries ago. Somehow, it both ate at her and sustained her.

Sabrina skipped in and out of her office, in and out of her home, saying things like “You’re the best!” and kissing her on the cheek after midnight tea. Lilith was adept at century's worth of torture, but this was an entirely new strain of awful.

She longed to use her new power, her claim over the half witch’s soul to make Sabrina tremble and quake. She wanted to take her far, far away from the horrors of Greendale, to a paradise all their own where Lilith could be Sabrina’s only god, master, and savior.

But every time she considered it, she thought of the devistates look in Sabrina’s eyes when she’d found out who Miss Wardwell really was.

Shuddering, Lilith slid the draw with the deed closed. It would have to wait for another day. Sabrina was forever that forbidden fruit, behind the walls of the garden where Lilith was no longer welcome.

…

It was a surprise- but it also wasn’t- when Sabrina burst through her office door, talking as fast as the five rivers of hades about Father Blackwood and The Dark Lord And a book report Rosalind was writing and-

“Sabrina, won’t you slow down!” She exclaimed, only then seeing the shining tear tracks on Sabrina’s face. “My dear,” she said, stepping out from behind her desk, “Whatever is the matter?”

She knew. She knew even as the words left her mouth that Sabrina knew.

“He sold my soul!” Sabrina said, “The Dark Lord! He sold it to someone called The Mother of Demons and then Roz was telling me about a book she read of mythology and The Mother of Demons is another name of Lilith but I thought she was a myth!”

Sabrina grabbed Lilith’s wrist, eyes pleading, “Miss Wardwell what does she want from me?”

“Sabrina,” the word was choked, sticking in her throat. She loosed her wrist from Sabrina’s grip, taking her hand.

“I don’t know what to do,” said Sabrina softly. She wiped her eyes with her free hand before jerking forward to hug Lilith, arms wrapping tightly around her.

Lilith froze for a moment. Then, she hugged her back, gently petting Sabrina’s hair as she cried.

“Do you trust me?” She asked.

“Do I trust you?” Sabrina repeated, lifting her head to look up. Fresh tears shined on her face. “Of course I trust you, Miss Wardwell.”

Lilith took one of Sabrina’s hands, kissing the inside of her wrist, the palm of her hand, her knuckles, “Aren’t you the loveliest little thing? I doubt you’ll let me so close ever again.”

“Miss Wardwell?”

“Perhaps you’d better sit,”

…

It was quiet, her office, her house, without Sabrina there to fill the air with silly little things that happened at school, with her aunts, that filled her mind. She hadn’t screamed then Lilith told her, hadn’t cried when she learned of the deception, that her soul had been bought in exchange for her name in the book of the beast.

Lilith signed the deed over to her. Sabrina’s soul belonged to Sabrina and Sabrina alone. Then she took it.

“Please,” she said, “Stay away from me, I mean it. Stay out of my life and out of my dreams.”

Lilith inclined her head, “As you wish.”

Sabrina transferred to a differential homeroom and history class. She took extra care to avoid her in the halls. She’d so easily removed herself from Lilith’s reach and the emptiness was palpable.

The Dark Lord had no need of her anymore either. She’d strayed too far, gone too rouge in securing Sabrina’s soul for herself.

She was truly alone.

…

It was a shock to see her there, dripping wet with the rain, shivering on her stoop as thunder cracked behind her. It was a striking image. Rain water ruined her mascara, red lipstick smeared, and the little dress and sweater set she wore clung to her slight form in a way that left Lilith with unholy thoughts. It had been a month since

“Sabrina,” she breathed, “What- ? Come in, you’re soaked to the skin.”

Sabrina shivered as Lilith shut the door behind them, locking out the thunder and lightning. Water pooled at Sabrina’s feet, overflowing from her mary janes and mud soaked socks. With a snap of her fingers, the fire in Lilith’s hearth came to life. She pulled a blanket from her arm chair and handed it to Sabrina.

“Undress and wrap up in this,” she instructed and when Sabrina looked up at her in flushed, wide eyed disbelief added, “You are not dripping all over my floor. I’ll find you some spare clothes until yours dry.”

Lilith was surprised to see her blink, then nod and drape the blanket over her shoulders to undress beneath it.

A few minutes later, wrapped in the blanket and clad in a nightshirt far to big for her, Sabrina stood by the fire, hair glowing like a halo in the firelight. Lilith set the tea tray on the table.

“I made us some tea,” she said, not wanting to get to close again. She knew she was treating Sabrina like a fawn, a little rabbit so easily startled, but she could help it, she wanted to save this moment for as long as she could.

“I found out, before,” Sabrina said, staring into the flickering fire, “And then you erased my memories.”

She thought about denying it, thought about trying yet again to explain herself, but stopped, “Yes.”

“You said that we weren’t so different,”

“Sabrina-“

“You’re right.”

For once in her life, Lilith was at a loss for words. She opened her mouth, closed it again, and just stared.

“I really missed you,” continued Sabrina, turning, “And I just wanted to ask if we could start over?”

“Yes, I would like that,” Lilith said with a tentative step closer.

Sabrina sighed, “Oh good. In that case-“ she stuck her hand out, “I’m Sabrina Spellman. It’s nice to meet you.”

“Lilith,” she said, softly, indulging in the charade, “The pleasure is mine.”

Sabrina let their hands linger too long, her gaze drifting to Lilith’s blood red lips. The glance didn’t escape Lilith, but she didn’t move. She didn’t want to break the spell they both seemed to be under.

Then, suddenly, Sabrina jerked forward, dropping Lilith’s hand as she threw herself at her, kissing her, sloppy and off center. Lipstick smeared as Lilith pulled her close, crushing their bodies together. Sabrina sighed against Lilith’s mouth as they broke apart, but Lilith didn’t let go.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Sabrina whispered.

…

It was warm, sharing a bed. Tucked under Lilith’s chin, Sabrina dozed, her half-mortal body easily worn out from first the crying reconciliation, then from the fucking.

She’d tried to apologize but Lilith had put an end to that nonsense instantly. “You did nothing wrong,” she whispered between kisses, “You shouldn’t even fathom forgiving me, my sweet.”

“But I do.”

Sabrina’s hands had curled into the sheets, gripping the sea of cotton maroon as she arched into Lilith’s touch, into her kiss, into her. Filthy words spilled from her pretty mouth, sweet and coarse all at once. It was all she’d dreamt of an more, coaxing everything from the smallest whimpers to full throated moans.

It was the closest she’d get to heaven, but the only heaven she’d wanted.

Now, in her arms, Sabrina gave a little sigh, snuggling closer, “You could have had anything.”

Lilith has thought her asleep by now.

“What was that love?”

“You could have asked the Dark Lord for anything; the world, to be the queen of hell, your freedom, but you asked for me.”

Humming against the top of her head, she traced a fingertip from her shoulder to wrist, “Mmmmmm, i just felt like it, I suppose.”

It was a lie. It was a lie and they both knew it but let it linger in the air, settling over them like a fine mist.

“I’m going to kill him,” Sabrina said. She was calm, tilting her chin to look up at Lilith, “You gave me my freedom and I’m going to give you yours.”

Sabrina kissed her again, and for one bright and shining moment, everything was perfect.

#caos #caos fanfic #the chilling adventures of Sabrina #chilling adventures of sabrina #madam satan #Sabrina Spellman #Sabrina x Madam Satan #madam satan x sabrina #black sabith #fanfic

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animesshadow · 6 years ago

Text

Natza Week - Day 2: Wisdom

“I am starting to regret splitting up our team right about now”

An irritated red-haired knight stated as she was hiding in a dungeon-like tomb while observing her surroundings. Next to her was a man with pink spiky hairs and a scarf around his neck. Contrary to his teammate, however, he didn’t seem to be the slightest bit concerned about the sheer mass of dark mages in their vicinity that were actively searching for them.

“Don’t say that Erza. It’s a rare time for us to spend some quality time clobbering bad guys. Just the two of us.”

Natsu commented seemingly excited about their situation. The desire to just go out there and smack his foes together with Erza was basically written on his forehead.

“You always surprise me with your overly optimistic way of thinking in situations like this.”

Erza sighed but she couldn’t hide a small smile on her face when she got reminded of Natsu’s simpleminded, yet adorable positivity and excitement even in situations like this once again.

“But still, if you had not ignored our plan and just charged in like that, we wouldn’t be in this situation”

She was obviously troubled by the thought of having to yet again explain why they failed a mission for the most laughable reasons.

“You always worry too much Erza. All we have to do now is beat those dark mages and get the artifact that they stole. Easy peasy.”

Typical Natsu plan right there. If it wasn’t for the fact that they are trying to avoid getting their attention, Erza would have probably chopped his head by now.

Erza just pinched the bridge of her nose and sighed loudly.

“There are too many Natsu. They know this place better than we do. We couldn’t possibly avoid at least some of them running off, alert everyone and run away with the one artifact that we are trying to secure”

The situation seemed dire. Even the experienced S-rank knight could not come up with a quick plan that allowed them to bypass the dark mages without them getting alerted first. Natsu seemed to think for a few seconds and then just smiled over at Erza

“Most of the time you are the one to take action and usually your last minute plans make sure we win the fight. But this one time, just follow my lead okay?”

Natsu confidently suggested. Erza was still skeptical though. What could Natsu come up with that she hadn’t thought of? But they had to do something now, no matter what. They couldn’t hide here much longer. Those mages would find them eventually anyway. To be honest, Natsu wasn’t the most tactical fighters in the team. His general strategy was always to overpower his opponent and grow stronger on the battlefield itself. Perfecting that could, however, be considered a wisdom in itself.

“Alright, fine, but if we end up failing to get the artifact and fail this mission, you will have to explain everything to everyone.”

“Sure will!”

There was still no trace of a plan to be seen though.

“And I will personally punish you for your reckless actions.”

The emotionless, low-pitched voice and cold glare she threw upon Natsu made him instantly shiver in fear and crush his confidence for a second. He knew oh so well how Erza punishes him when he does something stupid. No matter how close the relationship grew in the past few years, that fear has never even faded the tiniest little bit. It was that attitude that kept him in check when he needed it most of the time though. But that also made Natsu trust Erza so much. She would always be honest and punish him when he was acting thoughtless but that also meant that she would openly compliment and reward him when he was doing good. She was wise enough to always see through his actions and judge them accordingly. Natsu could always trust Erza to be honest with him, no matter what. Even with her armor on, the cold iron wall that he felt between her and the rest of the world was nonexistent anymore. Just the pure Erza, no facade or anything like that. Around him at least. From outside it may look like an abusive relationship but it was the bond of true trust and companionship that allowed them to be so free around each other. Erza always showed Natsu how she truly felt about him, whether it be anger, pride, or love. A bond those two could not share with anyone else, even in Fairy Tail. Not to that extent. It had already grown beyond that.

Natsu took a deep breath to calm his fears and put on a toothy smile again.

“Fine, as long as you kiss the pain away afterward. But don’t worry! This plan if fool-proof. Just follow my lead this time”

“Wha-... Okay fine. Just tell me what you have planned”

A small blush formed on Erza’s cheeks because of Natsu’s unusually bold first sentence. She just cast those thoughts aside for now and got ready to take action.

“This is a dungeon, right? In other words, we are underground”

“Yeah, so?”

Erza could still not understand what Natsu had in mind.

“You will see soon enough. Let’s just finish them quick. I don’t want the Ice-Princess to finish his part faster than we do”

The fact that he still thought about beating Gray should not be a surprise but Erza was truly fascinated by how Natsu just always wanted to beat him at everything. He sure had some silly ambitions. Seeing Natsu as his usual self even when they assumingly about to fail the mission was one of the traits of Natsu Erza loved about him.

“Ok! Let’s do this!”

With that said, Natsu dashed out of their hiding spot with a tremendous battle cry that was amplified by the echoes in this dungeon.

“Fire Dragon’s Roar!”

A massive fireball lit up the entire place. However, Natsu didn’t aim it towards the dark mages but shot it on the roof above them instead. Neither the dark mages nor Erza had any idea what was happening but Natsu continued to shoot fireballs at certain places on the ceiling.

Soon after, those places crumbled and began to crash as the damaged ceiling gave in to gravity. Massive rocks and boulders fell down and formed massive walls of rocks.

Now Erza got what Natsu had in mind. She immediately requiped into the Heaven’s Wheel armor and shot a large number of swords into the ceiling. Every place that got hit by swords or fire crashed down and formed a new wall.

“Now those punks can’t run away and take the precious artifact away!”

Natsu exclaimed loudly, followed by a confident laugh, certain of his victory.

Every pathway way now blocked by boulders. There was nowhere for the enemy to run. A confined battle arena with no escape.

“It was unwise of you to make us your enemies. We will kick your butts in now. I’m all fired up!”

Erza simply nodded in agreement. Both of them, standing back to back now, dashed in opposing directions. Natsu and Erza were far beyond the capability of these dark mages. Each of them getting brutally taken out by firefists or steel weapons. Pretty sure that’s the moment they all regretted their life decisions.

A short while later, all the rogue mages were laying on the floor unconscious. If it comes to magical power, those mages were no match for Erza-Natsu-Duo. Those two were far beyond their league.

“Ahaha see, it worked perfectly”

Natsu put his hands, puffed out his chest and celebrated loudly. With each laugh, small sparks mockingly flew out of his mouth.

“Honestly, I didn’t expect you to come up with a plan like this, Natsu”

“You may be experienced in the art of battle. However, young Scarlet, when it comes to the Wisdom of Recklessness, you have still a lot to learn. Keep this lesson in mind”

The great and wise Natsu placed his fist on his palm and made an exaggerated bow, imitating that of a true master.

“They tell me, oh wise Natsu-dono~”

“?”

There was something off about Erza’s strangely cheerful voice. It made Natsu feel chills down his spine. A knot formed in his throat that forced him to swallow in anxiety.

“How do you suggest we leave and find the artifact now after you blocked every path?~”

“?!”

... He didn’t think about that.

A dangerous smile indeed. Combined with the shadow cast over Erza’s eyes, Natsu could feel all of his previous pride and wisdom fade in an instant. Right about now, Natsu missed the beautiful and heartwarming smile she usually had when they were together. Her stern but loving attitude or even the possessive yet protective hug she always gave him when other girls tried to approach him was a more preferable choice.

“Ehh, you know... I didn’t think that far ahead...”

A nervous smile masked the fear of the storm that was headed his way.

“A dragon once said ‘A wise man never knows all, only fools know everything’ “

A desperate try to avoid the unavoidable. He messed up.

“Shut up!”

She shouted angrily and chopped the top of his head with an armored hand. Natsu was on his knees, holding his head in pain.

Shortly after, however, Erza reached out her hand to Natsu. Her previous angry attitude seemed to have faded.

Erza sure did notice Natsu’s genuine try to come up with a good plan this time. He may not be the wisest, but he doesn’t need to be. Just being that adorable little dragon that would fight any opponent that threatened his family was enough for her. Still, Natsu giving his best not be completely simple-minded and trying to improve himself for her sake didn’t go unnoticed. She was eternally grateful to have such a precious partner by her side. A partner, she couldn’t imagine out of her life anymore. A dragon that she would keep close to herself forever.

“It wasn’t the smartest plan you came up with, but I guess it did prevent them from getting away with the artifact. Now get up my dragon of wisdom”

A bit taunting but still mostly appreciating her cute little dragon.

“Once we clear this barricade of rubble and get what we came for, I will get a delicious cake. Your treat.”

Natsu’s eyes were sparkling again. His usual enthusiasm and excitement back to where it should be. He took her hand that she offered to help him back up on his feet. It may have been only a few seconds but Natsu did notice that she requipped the cold gauntlets away before she reached out to him. Even as a fire mage, the heat of holding her hand was not comparable to any fire he was able to create. He wanted to hold it forever and never let go. But for now, it was enough to be able to finish this simple mission with her.

#natza #natza week #natsu x erza #day 2 #wisdom #erza scarlet #natsu dragneel

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m11leven · 6 years ago

Text

You’re an idiot, Mike Wheeler

description: Since the beginning of time (or at least as far as El Hopper can remember) the town of Hawkins, Indiana has been split into two sides, north and south. With two rival High schools, Hawkins high and Clearwater high, she can't imagine ever being associated with someone from the neighbouring school.

Little does she know that she'll soon get to know a boy who will make her forget all about that.

Fandom/Pairing: stranger things - mileven, lumax & (minor) jancy Rating: general audiences Wordcount: 1571

*author’s note: this fic might include a whole lot of Romeo and Juliet references, but mark my words when I tell you, Mike and El are smarter than they are so despite the fact that Romeo and Juliet die, Mike and El most certainly will not.

Chapter one - there’s a fine line between love and hate

You know those times you're sitting in class, staring at the clock, as if it'll go any faster if you stare at it.

Mike Wheeler liked biology, well… he usually liked biology, but at this very moment, he didn't want anything more in the world than for it to end.

On the other end of town, in another school, El Hopper was sat down staring at the clock in her classroom, the sound of her English teacher's voice merely a background sound. She was waiting for the class to be over. For the bell to ring to signal that it was 12:30 and that it was finally lunch.

“You can only imagine how they must have felt, Romeo and Juliet, having to hide their love from the world, scared that if their friends or families found out they'd be forced to leave each other,” Mrs Phillips was a great teacher, she really was, but she seemed to be a big fan of tragic love stories. In Els opinion, Romeo and Juliet were quite stupid. It wasn't their fault, they were merely innocent victims of their own story, but at the same time she couldn't help but think about how weird it is to die because of a boy that you've only known for a few days, a week at the most. She didn’t really understand why people wrote grand love stories, of tragic deaths and everlasting love. Why on earth would you sacrifice everything you have just to feel love, to be with someone for eternity. She didn’t think she’d ever fall in love. Every single boy in Hawkins High was repulsive to her, she’d only ever had a crush on one boy, but he went to Clearwater high and there was no way she’d ever date anybody that lived on the north side of Hawkins. It was an unwritten rule of Hawkins, Indiana. The North and Southside didn’t interact.

El was snapped out of her thoughts all too suddenly by a light kick to her shin. She looked in the direction of the person who had kicked her, ever so impolitely in the shin. A red-haired girl and a boy wearing a terrible bandana on his head laughed at her. She rolled her eyes and tried to listen to her teacher ramble on about how teenage love is the strongest force on earth, nothing will ever stop it or destroy it.

The bell rang. A faint “the bell doesn’t dismiss you, I do!” could be heard through the students rushing out to get to lunch. Now if it were any other day she would’ve just gone to lunch with her friends but it wasn’t any other day. It was Wednesday and on Wednesday she went to Benny’s diner and had waffles. For free. None of the kids from either Hawkins high or Clearwater high went to Benny’s for lunch and for that El was grateful.

She rushed outside to her bike and hurried as fast as she could to the diner. The second she walked inside she was met with the usual smell of french fries and the sound of burgers sizzling on the grill.

She was met with a couple of hellos from the staff when she sat down at the counter where the owner, Benny, was pouring himself a cup of coffee. “Hi Ellie,” he smiled “the usual Wednesday?” he had already started writing her order; waffles with ice cream, a chocolate milkshake and a small fries to the side. “You know me so well” she smiled at him.

She stood up and started walking towards her regular booth, she sat down and took her assigned reading for her English class, Romeo and Juliet, out of her bag.

“Hey, El!” Benny yelled from the kitchen, snapping her out of her book,

“what?”

“So last week there was a boy here for lunch, Mike, I think his name was. That Nancy Wheeler is his sister. You know him?”

“I’m pretty sure that he goes to Clearwater, I've never seen him at school.”

She wasn't pretty sure, she was certain. She knew who he was. He was the cute kind of nerdy. She'd seen him at the library, sometimes with two of his friends, one curly haired boy, slightly shorter than Mike and a lot more talkative. Then there was another boy as well, Will Byers. He was smaller than both of them and a lot more soft-spoken and quiet. She'd never spoken to any of them, god forbid she speak to a northsider.

She turned back to her waffles and the book, which was boring her to death, really, took a sip of her milkshake and looked out the window.

Speak of the devil and he appears, right? Perhaps not but at this very moment, none other than Mike Wheeler was hopping out of his beat-up jeep right outside the diner. El frowned. Why is he here?

The bell above the door rang as he walked in, El slouched down into her booth, still eyeing him (only slightly thinking about how cute he looked). Despite El trying not to make eye contact he turned to her. As soon as he saw her his eyes darted away, only for him to mumble something to himself and look back up, more determined this time he started to walk towards her booth until he was standing on the other side of the booth.

“Hi?” El didn't really know what to say, he was just standing there and kind of staring at her.

“Hi, uh- y-you're Jane Hopper, right? Sheriff's daughter? You go to Hawkins High?” he seemed incredibly nervous. El was amused.

“Yeah, I go by El, actually” she kept on eyeing him as he sat down in the booth, now sitting opposite of her.

“How does Jane become El? I don't, I mean- that doesn't,” He stuttered before taking a deep breath “It doesn't make sense”

“Doesn’t need to, does it?”

“It does not, and that's not why I'm here”

She took a sip of her milkshake.

“Well?”

“You write, right?” He looked as if he'd regained some of the confidence he'd walked in there with,

“Yeah, I mean sure, I write sometimes,” she was really confused as to why he was there, why he even knew her name and how he knew about her writing, “What’s it to you?”.

“I need your help with something”. He smiled at her, flashing his pearly white teeth at her.

“Isn’t Nancy Wheeler your sister? Isn't she a journalist for the New York Times or something? I'm sure she can help you more than I can,”

He laughed. “Well, that's the problem, she lives in New York, and…” he trailed off. She scoffed.

“And what?”

“And she didn't go to Hawkins High.”

“What is this thing you need my help with?” El was actually quite flattered that he'd come to her for help.

“I’m supposed to write an essay on something that I a) don't know and b) get help from an insider, and obviously I thought of Hawkins high, a school that I don’t really like but I also don’t really know anything about” (damn those beautiful eyes). The only reason that she'd say yes is that if she doesn't she's doomed to spend her time with Max and Lucas who spend more time staring at each other than being with El.

“Sure. I'll help you,”

“Really? Thanks”

“On one condition though,” he sighed. She smiled.

“You won't tell anyone that I'm the insider”

He smirked to himself, then he moved his hand toward her and shook it.

“You’ve got yourself a deal, Hopper”.

When Mike pulled over in the Clearwater high parking lot he felt an overwhelming feeling of accomplishment. He talked to a cute girl and she'd even laughed with him.

When he walked in he was still on his little happiness high. He walked over to his locker, where Will and Dustin stood, pouring over their copies of the lord of the rings.

“Mike! Where have you been?” Dustins’ voice cracked the tiniest bit and Will hid a tiny laugh behind a cough.

“I was working on the new project” he beamed.

“Where? Haven’t seen you at all today”

“Bennys’ diner, great fries”

El Hopper went to sleep that night with a warm, fuzzy feeling in her stomach, the thought of dark almost-curls freckles and a smile that probably hadn’t left her face since a certain someone had left the diner during lunch. Even her dad mentioned how happy she looked.

She felt as if everything had changed during one lunch hour, she somehow had a tiny crush on Mike Wheeler, a northsider. Shit. This could not end well for either of them.

Little did she know that on the other side of town, in another neighbourhood, Mike Wheeler was laying in his bed, playing with the thought of a curly-haired and brown eyed girl. Of high-waisted jeans worn with a band t-shirt (the clash, yes! She listens to the clash!) and a pair of dirty converse shoes, of eating waffles and french fries on Wednesdays at a certain diner in the middle of the highway. A blue bike parked out front and the smell of strawberries and cinnamon (gingerbread, he’d thought). Mike felt as if he could drown in her smile, be blinded by her light, and somehow, when he thought about it, he didn’t mind at all.

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pecavae · 7 years ago

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Full Circle>>Ch 1

Searching for answers you encounter your first Molnium, but what you find is far more than you had expected.

bts-fantasy-au-series

Word count: 3.1K

Genre: angst

Your body jolts upright, breath heavy and rough, cutting through the quietness of your dark room. Your hair line was sleek with cold sweat alongside a choking lump in your throat. You rub your temples attempting to calm the adrenaline still pumping through you adamantly after your cycling nightmare. Realizing the whiteness of your blood-deprived knuckles, you release the unconsciously tight grip your fingers had around your Katana.

You calm your beating heart by counting to five and then repeating once more before pulling your hair back from your face and strapping your two black katana swords to your back. Walking out into the compound the heavy rain from last night had left behind an unpleasant amount of mud which stained your boots with each step.

It was early since you saw a few soldiers still roaming around aimlessly with their arms wrapped securely around their weapons and their heads held obnoxiously high.

You can’t help but roll your eyes seeing them rely on automatic metal, clung to them like some sort of shield. You despised guns, they were cowardice and dumbfoundedly simple to you. The very thought of your own mother being shot and killed with a gun left an acid taste in your mouth whenever you held one. But of course you couldn’t blame the young soldiers for it, if anything you pitied them, orders and bullets were all they’ve ever known. Deep down your heart almost envies their naivety, blind hope and artificial confidence. You couldn’t however. You were a hunter after all. Trained to your very bones to be cunning, swift, and effective. To rely on yourself, and yourself only. Your blood engraved abilities are what formed you, all to complete your one task, Hunt and kill the Molnium. Simple, after all they were the ones who murdered your mother.

***

Taking quiet steady steps you continue your walk past the camp. The thick blanket of fog gave an eerie feel that you've always found somewhat comforting. Drawing out the unknown and useful in its sense of hiding. The air was crisp however and sharp as it filled your lungs to the very brim and you welcomed it in spades. Gliding your steps, you slip through the back opening easily and as usual, undetected.

Your eyes and ears were always keen on alert. Making you nearly impossible to catch off guard ever since you were small. You could hear the steady flow of the stream nearby and distant sparrow callings as you walked alongside the moss plagued floor.

Standing still and closing your eyes you let yourself really breathe in. Faded memories automatically flood back only to find a numbing wall inside you. Today marked your mother’s death. The pain had long since gone leaving only an emptiness, an ugly scar in your heart that never managed to heal properly. You were crushed when it happened as you recall, a deep melancholy at the confusion of never seeing her again, and the ear-splinting sound of the distant gunshot was still vivid in your brain. Your father became bitter and cold as ambition possessed him, which only heightened after your mother’s death. He was unrecognizable to you which only incentivized you to seek training.

Like you, your mother had been a hunter, the best in her time you were told. You wanted to be like her and one day find the Molnium who killed her. The sadness that had resided in you soon turned into willing anger executed fervently into your training. Bettering yourself so that you could one day not only avenge your mother but prove your worth to your father.

Instantly your hand rushes to the Triskele shaped pendant that had once belonged to your mother as your fingertips trace the swirls of the Celtic symbol. Your heart was as restless as ever these past days in need of finding the truth it seemed to hold.

However, fifteen years had past since the last known Molnium was sighted. Almost as if they’d gone into hiding all these years, but you knew it was only a matter of time before they returned. You could feel it in your bones. They’d be back, and you’d be ready.

The sharp sound of a twig snapping made you whirl around immediately, bending your elbow so that your hand now resting on the Katana’s handle. Your eyes darted in the direction of the sound but found nothing there. Yet for a split-second at the corner of your eye you thought you saw a shadow disappear. But as hard as your eyes focused, you saw nothing but acres of forest trees surrounding you. Your body felt strange however, as if you were sensing something familiar, like Deja Vu only stronger. Your imagination you suppose.

Sensing something behind you suddenly, it takes you exactly one second to turn around, withdraw both your Katanas and stance yourself ready to swing, only to find a familiar face smiling down at you.

“Surprised you didn’t I?” His deep husky voice had always calmed you as a child and continues to do so even today.

Scoffing loudly you straighten yourself up returning one of your swords to it’s holster as you shake your head smiling up at him. “Just like only you could Beck.”

Crossing his very large shaggy arms his eyes deepened their crescent-moon shape as he grins. “Don’t be so hard on yourself jellybean, we both know if it weren’t for me you’d have a perfect record as an unwavered hunter.”

“You know your right-“ stepping forward slowly you motion to him with the katana held between your fingertips. “If only it weren’t for you. Seems I might just have to fix that.”

Reaching for his knife Beck twirls it on his palm with expert ease, cocking one brow as his soft caring face turns dark. “Try it.”

If you hadn't grown to recognize Beck’s every doing, you’d think he was ready to duel you to the death. But the tiniest of twitches to the corner of his mouth immediately uncover his weakness - the amusement and palpable fondness he has over you. “Do your best jellybean.”

Positioning yourself, you crouch your knees slightly and hold the sword adjacent to your left thigh. Your upper lip curls in a daring smirk. “You know I always do.”

Swinging once Beck quickly dodges the blade as he steps sideways. You shift in time to miss the strike of his knife. Beck has trained you since you were old enough to handle your first sword. You used knives, spears, bows and arrows until you found your weapon, two black-laced katana swords. Beck had said the hunter didn’t choose the weapon but the weapon chose it’s hunter. Sounded a bit cheesy even to you then, but when your hands first laid touch to that Katana sword, you knew you’d immediately become one with it.

Beck of course being the massive bear he was, you learned to avoid his strongest points and to move swiftly on your feet. Swirling your legs and arms like you were cutting the very air you breathed. Bending and extending your body at will. You manage to lift your blade up to his neck, he lifts his hands up and exhales a smile of defeat. Ready to gloat in your win, you don’t notice Beck hooking his leg behind you so that you virtually fall straight on your ass.

“Hey! That was not fair.” You say with a huff of breath as you lay flat on the ground.

Beck chuckles standing over you, his sparkling eyes returning for just a moment before turning serious once more. “Never expect a fight to be fair (y/n).” extending his hand towards you, he lifts you easily but you notice his expression still bothered.

“Everything okay Beck?”

His eyes shoot back up at you before he smiles brightly, but still you sense it off as it doesn’t reach his eyes.

“Nothing of course, just facts you need to know Jellybean that’s all.”

“Right.” You say with an evident tinge of suspicion in your voice, but you dismiss this with a shrug of your shoulders. Beck had known your mother before she died which is why he had always watched over you. In areas your father had lacked - which were many to say the least- Beck had been there for you. “Anyways we should probably get back.” Taking a few steps in front of you before-

“- Aren’t you forgetting something?”

Your head turns back to see Beck holding your second Katana, resting it above his shoulder cockily with one eyebrow raised. “First rule of a hunter, never let your guard down.”

Your jaw slackens a second before you shake your head slowly with a low chuckle in your throat. From your back pocket you slowly pull out a small drop point knife that had originally resided on Beck’s thigh holster. “I’d say the same thing goes for you too.”

His eyes immediately widen a fraction as his hand drops down to feel the indeed empty pocket. Scoffing loudly he tilts his head back revealing his toothy grin you smile back to.

Your face drops suddenly as your ears pick up on fast footsteps approaching. You eyes quickly land on a young soldier from camp nearing you and Beck. You can tell he’s out of breath and a bit nervous when you spot him a couple dozen yards away.

When he finally arrives where you two stood, sweaty and disheveled he speaks.

“The general, he wants to speak to everyone at the compound.”

Beck is the next to speak. “Has something happened boy?”

“Molniums. They’re...back.”

“Back?! What do you mean they’re back?” Your voice was louder than you had predicted and you notice the young soldier’s hands flinch.

“I-I don’t know I was j-just sent to get you and Sergeant Beck. They say one may have been seen by the spotters.”

Your heart begins racing a thousand miles per hour and you can feel it pounding in your chest. Could it be? Was what you saw, a Molnium? Why are they back? After all this time, why now?

Turning to Beck you see he’s stern and guarded as he looks beyond the woods. “Beck? Do you think it’s real?”

“I don’t know (y/n) I... don’t know.”

***

You and Beck stand behind the thick steel door of the general’s office before you are ushered inside. Two soldiers stand by the door and two more behind the large desk. Your eyes fall on the back of the general as he stands by the window looking out.

“Sir,” Beck’s voice sounds curt and worried. “Is it true? Are the Molnium back?”

The general doesn’t move nor look back. “After all this time it seems these bastards have finally decided to show themselves.”

You can sense Beck tensing beside you. His eyes stern and hooded, his thick brows furrowed tightly together and his strong jaw sharp as ever clenched. “Sir, m-maybe it was unintended. One may have just slipped up thinking it wouldn’t be spotted.”

“No.” The general’s voice was like sharp ice sending a cold shiver down your spine. “Molniums know exactly what they’re doing. Those devious demons trick you into trusting them. And when you think you have everything under control - when you least expect it, they’re the ones who control you.” You can’t help but feel he was talking from experience as he said this.

Blood pumped rapidly through your veins, and you try to keep your adrenaline from peaking by steadying your nervous breaths.

“Sir, tell us what to do.” At the sound of your voice the general finally turns, his eyes dark as coal which seemed to be fueled by black fire.

“Round up the hunters. Find it, I want it brought to me.”

Beck intervenes. “Sir this could be dangerous. Someone could end up hurt or worse killed. We should contact the neighboring compound set up a plan and-“

The general’s hand suddenly slams down onto his desk making everyone in the room still and you flinch. “I will not allow the Molnium a chance to get away! I want it dead, Now!”

Your mouth dries and your hands clam up. You’ve wanted to capture this Molnium yes but, somehow what seems to be happening feels...wrong. You don’t know enough to suspect anything and so, saluting the general briskly, you walk towards the door before you feel Beck hold his hand under your arm. You look at him with confusion as his face is once again troubled and desperate.

“Beck wh-“

“(Y/n) there’s something you need to know.” He whispers.

“Beck what are you talking about? Know what?”

You watch his eyes and there is a pain and regret you’ve never seen in them before.

“Sergeant Beck.” You both turn to face the general once more, anger in his obsidian eyes. “You will stay behind in the compound leading the soldiers. Is that clear.”

Your eyes dart back and forth between them not understanding the glances being exchanged.

“Beck-“

“(Y/n)” the general interrupts making your body jump slightly. “I believe I gave you an order, and expect you to follow it, immediately.”

You give Beck one final glance. His expression for the first time ever to you, unreadable.

You exhale sharply, “Yes sir.”

***

It had begun to rain, well, completely pour down really as you walked through the woods. Your conveniently great eyesight helped a bit but it was nearly impossible to see anything through the thick downfall.

“You don’t know where you’re going, you’re going to get us killed! We should head back and call for back up!” Sara, another hunter from the camp, shouts over to you.

Your immediately sigh exasperated. This was not only an order but the whole purpose of being a hunter. No rain or hunter was going to stop you or get in the way of finding this Molnium.

“What are you afraid you’ll get hurt?” You scoff dismissing her, “We have to keep moving.”

You hear the slide of her gun pulled back and your eyes roll. “Watch it princess,” She steps closer to you snearing as she rests her finger on the trigger of her gun. “Or you’re the one who’s going to get hurt.” You sigh deeply through your nose before she speaks again. “Daddy’s not here to stop me.”

“What did you just say?” You felt anger begin to bubble up inside you with each raindrop that fell before a static voice catches your attention.

��-All units. Molnium spotted east windward-”

Drawing your sword with blinking speed your blade was now threateningly close to Sara’s neck. “You brought a radio!?” Visibly stiff the girl’s eyes narrow as you continue. “Are you insane, it could hear!” You spit through gritted teeth, eyes ablaze.

Her open mouth snears into a mockingly dry cackle.“You’re on your own now princess.” Her eyes were callous. “And just so you know, I’m going to be the one who takes down this Molnium, got it?”

She steps back very slowly as if still unsure of your reaction. Your face is stone cold and ridden of emotions, but a bright spark with much resemblance of a flame flashes in your eyes. This is enough for the young hunter to laminate in nervousness.

“Leave.” Your voice was a knife under the rain.

Grim but hesitant, you watch her disappear into the trees. Your sword had since hung heavy to your thigh. The familiar whiteness of your knuckles once again returns and your jaw remains tightly clenched as you allow your senses to heighten. There is no way the Molnium is east, not when you feel something near beckoning. Concentrating on the pull of your instincts you head west towards the rapid falls.

In spite of the harsh mud your trained feet are light, each step bringing you closer. Uncertainty and familiarity mesh into one thought inside of your head. The Molnium. Shaking your head you focus harder. You have to find this Molnium. The push and the pull flowing through your veins as the tales of these Moliums ring inside your ears. Tall and strong with their unworldly beauty and supernatural abilities. They were compared to many creatures such as evil fairies, wicked elves, and beautiful monsters. For centuries they lived in the forest, luring and killing humans for sport. That was until humans began training to fight against the Molnium and they soon became the hunted instead.

Nearing the falls, the rain had finally subsided to tiny droplets on your skin and you feel as though your head had become a broken compass, a needle pointing everywhere as your eyes shoot around you. The ground and the trees blur into fog until you clearly see someone.

From behind it seems to be leaning against a large oak tree and flicking small pebbles into the water unbothered. Your heart smashes against your chest sparking a wild fire within you. You eyes travel to his face turned sideways and you can tell its a male your age. Dark tufts of midnight hair obscured his eyes as he looked downward. Covered entirely in black attire with golden trinkets decorating his wrists neck and hair. His skin seemed to glow in contrast with his clothes effortlessly clinging to his body.

Thinking quickly you decide to use his lack of awareness to your advantage as you stealthily step towards the back of the tree and slowly pull out your swords.

Without hesitating any longer you spin yourself around the tree, swinging your sword midair before you halt entirely. Your eyes widen in horror as the Molnium was no longer there. Eyes darting you spin quickly almost shrieking before catching yourself as before you stood the practically towering Molnium. Staring at you with his alarmingly glowing eyes seemingly hypnotizing as they roamed over you. You stood in equal parts shock and awe seeing his dampened bangs release droplets of water that fell slowly down his cheek.

Blinking rapidly your arm instinctively raises to swing before his hand grabs hold of your wrist with impressive swiftness not once breaking eye contact. Stunned once more you watch as a something catches his eye on your neck and he raises his other hand towards you. Panicking you take the opportunity to swing your opposing arm with all your strength managing to hit his left temple.

You blink several times again as you watch his body fall flat on the ground unconscious.

Your breath was staggered and shaky as your eyes shot to his face. His limbs were gracefully sparced and his head slightly leaned to one side as he looked almost serene. Your eyes travel down to his neck and all the blood in your face drains as your fingertips go numb, not noticing you sword slip through your fingers and fall to the ground.

Innocently resting around his neck was a necklace bearing the same golden Triskele symbol as the necklace that hung around your neck.

#jungkook au #jungkook fantasy #bts fantasy au #full circle #bts hunter au #bts series #jungkook series

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ultrakeystotheheartblog · 7 years ago

Text

CJ: Endings and Finales (Requested)

so seeing as Teen Wolf is over (I still can't believe it), I was wondering if you could do one final CJ imagine? its basically her place in the last episode and how far she has come since the start? you don't have to do it if you don't want to. also I really enjoy your new story so far, it's really good!

A/N: Hello! And here it is, the final part to CJ’s story. I hope you enjoy :) ♥

Warnings: Violence and a tiny bit of gore

*************************************************

It's happening tonight, you think in alarm.

The war you had all been terrified of was coming. And now you'd all been separated from each other, spread dangerously thin.

Theo's truck barrels down the dark road, and you grip the edge of the passenger seat at the speed, body tense as you listen to Scott over the phone. You hold your cell phone up higher in between you and Theo, the slight crack of your brother's voice evidence that he was exceptionally worried, but was clearly trying to keep his cool under the pressure of such an awful situation bearing down on everyone. You're sure Theo can hear it too, and you watch him from the corner of your eye.

"Just buy us more time," Scott continues. "Wherever Liam and the others are, get them out of there."

"Am I buying you time to come up with a plan or to get help?" Theo questions sullenly. He sounds sour, even vastly doubtful at the plan, and he glances at you to gauge your reaction to Scott's idea. You roll you eyes at him when you notice. Scott is quick to answer.

"Both."

Theo nods to himself, as if he expected that answer, and sets his mouth in a thin line. He lifts his head to look in the rear-view mirror before speeding up, the vibration of the revved engine resonating up into your body. You lean closer towards the phone.

"What about me, Scott? You're not doing this without me."

"CJ--"

"Don't even." You huff in irritation.

Scott sighs through the phone, "Meet me at the school, but don't go in until I'm there."

You share a look with Theo, who flashes you a wholly annoyed expression at the expectant look on your face. He seems to make a split decision and rolls his eyes before finally nodding, silently conveying that he would drop you off on his way to the hospital.

"I'll see you there." You tell Scott.

You hang up as Theo's grip tightens on the steering wheel of the truck, like he can't believe he's about to do this, and he shakes his head. He sits up straighter then, and makes a sharp turn that throws you back against the window. You yelp and glare at him, and see the side of Theo's mouth quirk up into a small smile as he stares out at the road ahead of him.

********************************************************

You press your fingers lightly against his shoulder, shuddering at the roughness of the stone beneath them. You look up at Peter's frozen face and gulp, glancing nervously down the darkened hallway. The doors to your left creak open and you're heart nearly jumps out of your chest. You snarl, whipping around to face whoever entered the school and come face to face with your brother, Derek and Malia trailing behind him. Scott doesn't look too happy when he sees you, his eyes widening when his gaze flicks over to see Peter.

"I thought I said not to go in without me." He says to you in frustration.

"You might've."

Scott stares at you, "And what, you just didn't hear me? Didn't care?"

"I did," You snap without any real force behind your words, too uneasy to fight with him. "But I also heard Peter and made an executive decision."

Scott sighs but lets it go, pulling you into a quick half hug. You squeeze him around his middle and then pull away, turning to look back at Peter before continuing. "But I got here too late."

"He's not dead." Malia denies with a catch in her breath, circling around Peter to stand in front of him. "He can't be." She's staring at his face intensely, sounding the tiniest bit distressed. You step forward to touch her arm in comfort, and she covers your hand with hers before closing her eyes. Derek shakes himself free of the initial shock, gaze trailing down to Peter's chest. Scott is listening too, head cocked as he concentrates.

"There's a heartbeat, but it's faint." Derek informs both you and Malia. You focus in to hear the slow thudding heartbeat as well, casting a relieved smile at Malia. There's a sound in the distance that makes your body tense, grating metal against something smooth and ceramic--a door squeaking open. Derek's eyes shoot up to stare out into the hallway past Peter. "And we're not alone." He adds lowly.

You and Malia follow his gaze out into the hallway, and she growls under her breath. You take a step forward in front of Malia, gently removing her tightening grip around your wrist to keep you beside her, and focus on where the faraway sound came from. You close your eyes and concentrate, hearing footsteps and multiple fluttering heartbeats a floor above you.

"Definitely not alone." You say, breathing in the scents around you. "They're human."

"Hunters." Derek agrees as he sniffs the air, stepping around Peter to stand beside you. Scott doesn't react to your findings, but strides closer to Peter. He seems to be thinking hard, looking him up and down before his eyes trail back up to stare at Peter's face. Something dawns on Scott then, his mouth hanging open. Malia is clearly agitated, bouncing from foot to foot as she watches him.

"Scott?" She asks.

You turn to your brother, "What is it?"

"I think I know how to catch it." He says, already slipping his phone out from his pack pocket. "I have to call Stiles."

********************************************************

"Shhh." You say quietly to Malia.

You hear the unmistakable sound of running people, a few hunters jogging by your hiding place in the hall below. Scott is standing tall in front of you, with Malia and Derek waiting just behind you both. Your brother peeks out from your place behind a wall, on a small landing between the first and second floor. The blinds on the window behind you casts little light, but the concrete is cool as you lean against it. You feel Malia's hand on your shoulder as she leans over you to try and steal a look as well, all her weight bearing down on you, and when she can't, she frowns and leans back. She shoots you an apologetic smile when you raise your eyebrow at her.

"We can't just hide. Peter's not gonna last like that." She whispers urgently.

Derek leans back casually against the wall, "Well, neither will we if that thing finds us too."

Malia turns to look at him, unamused.

"Derek's right, we have to be careful." You say. Malia looks the slightest bit offended that you're taking Derek's side, before you sigh and elaborate. "Especially with those hunters around."

"We can take them." Malia insists quietly, hand shooting up to show you her extended claws. You grip her wrist and pull her hand down before Derek can say anything, and he shuts his mouth with a small, protesting growl when you offer him a fleeting warning look.

You glance at Scott then, who has his eyes closed and seems to be listening to your surroundings. You let Malia's hand go. "Maybe. But then we still have the Medusa-death problem." You remind her.

Derek nods from the back, "And that's the one I'm more worried about."

"But--"

"We've got to wait for Stiles." Scott says adamantly, his eyes open now as he keeps watch. You reach out to touch his hand and he curls his fingers over yours, turning to smile at you reassuringly.

"I'm not waiting here." Malia replies, scooting out past Scott before either of you can stop her, bounding silently down the steps to the bottom floor. Derek and Scott share an alarmed look and take off after her, and you sigh, following them.

"Malia! Wait." You hiss.

Scott reaches her first, touching her lower back gently. "Whoa, hey. Malia, hold on."

There's the feeling of somebody standing down the hallway and you all turn at once, a sensation of dread settling in your gut. Monroe is blocking the doors there and she stares you all down, lifting the gun dangling by her side. She aims it directly at Scott and fires, the crack of the shot against the air making you flinch. You're quick enough to yank Scott back just right, fingers twisted in the fabric of his shirt, so that when the bullet hits him it's only in the shoulder. He rears back, arms flailing, and grunts as he falls to the ground on his back, landing heavily on top of you.

"Scott!" Malia cries. She goes to kneel down next to him, but Scott waves her away, gesturing at Monroe with a tilt of his head as he holds his shoulder. Derek kneels next to him and grips his arm, turning to ask you if you were okay. You nod, wincing at your brother's crushing weight.

Scott gasps, "No, I'm okay. I'm okay. Don't let her go."

Malia nods and rises to her feet, rounding on Monroe with cold glowing eyes, fangs, and claws. When Malia roars it's screechy and angry sounding, and she takes off after her. Monroe smirks slightly, pleased with herself, and slams open the door just behind her with her shoulder. Derek takes hold of you and helps you squirm out from underneath your brother when they disappear from sight, taking Scott's hand. With Derek's other hand supporting Scott's neck, he helps him sit up, and Scott grunts in pain. You grumble at the soreness in your body from hitting the ground so hard, and crawl around to Scott's other side.

"Scott?" You ask, voice edged with worry.

"It's okay, I'm okay." He repeats.

Derek is shaking his head, "No, you're not okay." Scott looks down at his bloody shoulder, hand still clamped to the wound and you reach out to pull his hand away, all three of you staring down at the mix of smeared blood and yellow flecks of...something. "It's yellow wolfsbane. It's gonna kill you." Derek clarifies seriously and straight to the point. Scott looks up at him with wide eyes, eyebrows furrowing, and you stare at Derek fearfully.

"What?" You both say breathlessly. Scott groans at a twinge of pain and you move Scott's hand back to press against his wound for him. He smiles tiredly at you in thanks.

You meet Derek's gaze, "What do we do?"

"Get it out." He says quickly, drawing Scott's free arm around his neck to drag him unsteadily to his feet. "Come on, we need a lab.” You look around to focus again on your surroundings, blinking away the shock of what just happened, and jump up. You take hold of Scott's shirt to turn the both of them around, gesturing back up the hallway.

"Follow me."

********************************************************

Derek helps Scott to a classroom through a few curving halls--to the chemistry lab on the first floor--Scott's arm slung around his neck so he can better support your brother's weight. Scott wobbles in his hold, pushing himself of the door jamb of the doorway, once you open the door ahead of them. You turn to allow Derek to transfer Scott to you. You swing Scott around to face you, guiding him to sit on a stool resting by a lab bench, while Derek slowly takes a survey of the room.

"Come on. Okay, sit down. Sit down." You mutter to Scott as you finally get him seated, rather unceremoniously.

Your brother leans back against the table, breathing heavily as slumps farther to the side, sounding exhausted when he speaks. "Derek, CJ, just go. Help Malia, please."

"Look, I'm not worried about her." Derek answers, face lighting up as he sees something and crosses the room. He wrenches open a metal cabinet against the wall, searching hastily inside and among the shelves, fingers brushing over everything as he searches.

You take Scott's face in your hands, getting him to focus on you. "She'll be fine. Shhh, Scott, please stop moving."

"We gotta get rid of this. And there's only one way to get rid of wolfsbane." Derek adds as he pulls out a tiny torch from the cabinet. He turns to show you and Scott. He clicks it on, the blue flame looking menacing even from across the room. Scott tries to sit up with your help, veins in his neck prominent as he strains to get upright. "You burn it out." Derek finishes.

You stare at the flame, feeling the heat before Derek switches it back off, and glance at Scott's face drawn in agony. "Alright." You agree.

"What?" Scott questions nervously, head lifting just the slightest as he pants at the effort. Derek rushes towards you both, and you push Scott back gently to keep him from getting up, letting Derek speak to him.

"Okay, look, you're not gonna be able to do much until you heal."

Scott replies more forcefully and without hesitation, starting to sweat. "If I'm right, we just need Stiles to get here."

Derek flips on the torch again without another word and Scott softly responds, "Okay."

Derek shares a silent look with you over Scott's shoulder and you nod in understanding, shifting to stand behind you brother. You grip both of his shoulders. Scott stiffens and braces himself, squeezing his eyes shut momentarily, mouth turned down into a grimace. He stares down as Derek brings the flame to his wound, and immediately upon contact, yellow steam begins to rise as the wolfsbane is burned away. It's a disgusting smell of something sweet mixed with the gag inducing odour of charred flesh. You think you'll be lucky if you never have to smell something like that ever again. Scott reacts and jerks forward, throwing his head back to yell out in anguish.

Derek is gripping Scott's bicep as you push down on his shoulders to keep him in on the stool, his body jerking and squirming in your hold. Scott's hand shoots out to grip back onto Derek's arm, clutching his shirt sleeve tightly. Derek's eyes flick up to watch him and then slide to you, your teeth clenched and muscles aching as you use all your strength. Finally it's done, and Derek switches off the torch as Scott gives a gasping breath. He slumps back against you, eyes rolling back into his head as he passes out. You gasp, taken off guard, and he drops back a bit of the stool as you push against his body to hold him up from completely falling.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, Okay, okay. It`s alright. That's all right. That's all right. Okay." Derek breaths out, helping you lower him to the floor after tossing the torch aside, following you as you drop to your knees. Derek rests him against your knees and you shove the stool aside with your foot on the way down, muttering softly to Scott.

"You're gonna be okay." You tell him.

The wave of emotion slams into both you and Derek without warning, the relentless sensation of fear disarming any thoughts for a next step. The jittering, disorientating wave sends the room spinning, and Derek looks up around the lab. His gaze flicks towards the door and then he's slowly standing, eyes glowing blue as he scents the air with a little growl and a snort.

"Derek, where are you going?"

"It's here."

"I know. I..I can feel it."

He pauses at the entrance of the open door, "Get him out of here."

You gap in disbelief, "Hold on, you're not going to do what I think you are." Your face drops when he doesn't answer, "Are you?"

"I can be enough of a distraction while you do." Derek continues as if he hadn't heard you.

"Derek."

His shoulders slump slightly and he spins, walking back to you with a look of absolute determination. He drops down to his knees in front of you, clutching your shoulders and speaking softly. "Hey, if any of us have a chance at outsmarting this thing, stopping it from destroying everything and everyone we've ever cared about, it's you two." Derek smiles fondly, "The McCalls. One hell of a family."

You smile back at him through stinging, unshed tears, reaching up to cover one of his hands with yours, your fingers curling to grip his hand. His gaze drops briefly to Scott and then back up to you, his eyes shining in the dark. "When you're together, you two can do anything. I've seen it. The others have too. And now...I need you to do this."

You stare at him, voice quietly accepting. "Okay."

Derek let's go of your shoulders and stands.

"Kick it's ass."

"Happily." You say, sounding more confident than you feel.

With one last glance at you and Scott, he leaves the room, head held high as he strides out into the unknown. You rouse your brother by shaking him, slinging his good arm around your neck and lifting him to his feet. His head lulls against you for a moment but he lifts his head, eyes bleary, and you move him out of the classroom, Derek already disappearing from your vision when he turns a corner down the hall.

********************************************************

You and Scott hurry through the doors of the library moments later, glancing around immediately at the rows of bookshelves to get your bearings. He wavers on his feet, pulling away from you to check his shoulder, hand clamped against the wound again.

"You should have gone to mom at the hospital." Scott laments through a particularly harsh wince.

"She can take care of herself. And you needed me here." You say turning to him, flashing your golden eyes as you insist, "We can do this."

"Together." Scott agrees.

He gestures at one of the shelves up ahead and you both scurry to hide there, panting heavily and leaning back against it. You're beside him as he stands near the front of the row. Scott pulls his hand away to look at his wound more closely, letting out a pained intake of breath. You automatically reach up to help him but he catches your hand in the air, body stilling. You hear the light footsteps too, fingers dragging along the book spines, and Scott looks towards the sounds, pushing you further back into the row.

"Hiding in the library, Scott? Hiding from me? Open your eyes, Scott." It sounds like Stiles, his voice rough and gravelly, cold and uncaring, both hollow with a hint of underlying anger and contempt, and wearily soft. It comes closer, and you realize with a start that you know who the creature has taken the form off.

The Nogitsune.

It sounds as though it's just a few rows of shelves behind you now. Scott braces himself, hand shooting out to grip your bicep and drags you closer to him instead. He looks down at you and you nod, closing your eyes tightly after he does. Don't open them. No matter what, he had made you promise.

"You think you can fight me, but you can't. Your friends are gone." The Nogitsune pauses, letting its words sink in. You can hear Scott's heart hammering in his chest. "They saw my face and it drove them insane. They're gone because of you. You failed them."

The voice turns more garbled, resonating with a guttural and deep tone, more teasing as he drawls out, "You failed...everyone. Especially her." There's a crash as a table is shoved across the room. You understand what the creature is insinuating at the same time Scott does, and as his hold on your arm loosens, you grab his wrist to stop him from reacting. The voice is right next to the both of you now, enunciating her name mockingly. "Especially Al-li-son."

Scott rips away from you and jumps out to swing at the creature, but he catches air, turning around in circles to listen for its next move. You had gripped the fabric at the back of his shirt and moved with him out into the open, and he reaches back to touch your shoulder to assure himself you're still okay. You find yourself turning with him, trembling at the waves of fear that rinse over you persistently.

"Open your eyes."

Derek and Malia's voices reach you from the darkness, growled out in a hush before something sharp--claws, you realize--slice at both you and Scott. You hear him grunt to your right and you curl in on yourself at the sting, slapping your hands over his ears as Lydia's wailing voice rips through the air around you. The library doors slam closed and Scott wobbles on his feet, his shirt slipping past your fingers as he steps away to steady himself. Scott notices instantly that your grip is gone and spins, arms reaching blindly out to find you. But you're forced back out of his reach, stumbling away, when another wave of fear crashes into you.

"You." The creature has turned to you now, and you feel it uncomfortably close as it speaks. "The stubborn little sister. Always trying to prove herself. To her friends. Her brother--the True Alpha." It drawls again, saying the title almost scornfully, rancid breath washing over your face as it continues. "But not strong enough to save them. Right, little wolf?"

You feel him circle behind you, hands wrapped in scratchy, musty gauze sliding over the skin of your neck. You growl and harshly slap them away, turning to find it when the voice switches momentarily back to Stiles. "They never needed you. But you did. Too afraid to be left behind. Open your eyes, CJ. Show me you're not afraid."

You can hear Scott heading for you, having heard your growl of anger. "CJ, no! Don't open them. Don't listen to it." He tells you vehemently.

"Scott...." You say as your eyes sting with tears, before another wave of nausea sends you stepping backwards to escape it, keeping you separated from your brother.

"Open your eyes, CJ. Show your brother you're strong enough to save them all."

"CJ--" Scott tries again.

"Open. Your. Eyes. It's okay--show him." It croons. You cover your ears and freeze in place, refusing to move back anymore. The nausea grows stronger but you push it down, body still trembling at the force of it.

"No!" You exclaim.

"Leave her alone." Scott commands, sounding frighteningly and every bit like the dangerous Alpha people expect him to be. "This is between you and me, isn't it? You need something from me, don't you? Well, what is it?" He thumps his chest, "Come on, I'm right here. What do you want?"

You realize that he's drawing its attention away from you.

"You're right, Scott." Stiles' voice is beginning to echo as it gets farther away from you. "I want you to open them," the creature demands. "All you have to do is open your eyes." It's the guttural, garbled voice again, and he's sounding more pissed as time goes on.

With it no longer focused completely on you, you feel around you and find a the edge of a shelf. And with hands out on either side of you, you duck into the closet row, feeling along the spines of the books beneath your fingers.

You berate yourself silently for what you're about to do, but take a steadying breath and crack open your eyes, slowly leaning out from the row to find Scott. You see them at the other side of the library, the creature's back to you. "Your fear is different, Scott. There's...power underneath. Your power." It says, striding around the table towards Scott, jerky and quick, shoes clunking with a limp across the floor. Scott is on the other side, but pacing around it slowly as he listens. The creature's voice raises in volume until he is practically growling with hatred, "Your fear brings me freedom! I won't be trapped again. I won't be caught and caged ever again. Not ever!"

It grips Scott's throat and pushes him pack, your brother gasping around his bruising grip. "Open your eyes." It warns, squeezing his throat until he wheezes when Scott still doesn't comply. "Open them!" The creature roars heatedly.

You run at the creature, hoping to catch him off guard, but it hears you coming. Its other hand shoots out to take hold of your neck when you're within reach. He lifts you off your feet and you squeak, hands clutching at his wrist, shutting your eyes immediately as the creature turns to look at you. You catch sight of a faint purple glow when its face moves, before darkness swallows you again. Scott hears you sputtering for breath and growls dangerously.

"I know how to fight you. And I know how to catch you." Scott head butts the creature and breaks its hold on his throat by striking the inside of his arm to buckle it. It lets go of both of you, stunned, and Scott shoves it back. The creature stumbles back past you with a grunt, knocking into a chair.

"CJ, don't look." Scott says suddenly. "Whatever you hear, don't open your eyes."

"What? Scott, I don't under--"

There's the unmistakable shing of claws and you fervently hope that he isn't going to do what you think he is--a sick squealsh and a crunch of bone, the tips of Scott's fingers sinking into his eyes. Blood permeates the air thickly as Scott screams in unbridled pain and you feel like throwing up. You flinch, nose crinkling, and cry out his name. It's over quickly though and you can hear him breathing harshly in short, sharp breaths. You almost open your eyes, but you stop yourself, reaching out uselessly to search for him.

"CJ?" He asks brokenly after a moment of silence.

"I'm still here."

You can hear his racing heartbeat, and can pretty well smell where he is in the library now, the scent of blood making it easy. You still feel sick and want to scream, but understand why he's done it, steadying yourself with deep breaths to stay brave for him. You know you two have to keep him busy, just a while longer. For Stiles.

You both wander on either sides of the library listening for the creature, trying to keep it sandwiched between you two. You spread your fingers to feel the air around you, like Scott had told you Deucalion taught him. You can hear it breathing as it scuttles around between rows of shelves, feel it's body slide by you, it's heartbeat slow and methodical. There's the abrupt sound of bone claws clacking harshly against a table and Scott grunts, most likely having dodged it.

The trill of an Oni sounds from your left and you dodge the swing of its sword, hearing the hiss of air. You back up into a table and in one smooth motion climb up on it, sliding over the surface to the other side. You flip the table onto its side to hide behind it as the Oni strikes again, just missing your head as its sword swings over the edge of the table. You lay on your back and swiftly kick the underside of the table with both legs, sending it screeching across the floor and careening into the creature. It yells out angrily and slams back against a bookshelf--closer to Scott. The metal clank of something like armour echoes out next as the creature turns back to him, and it sounds as if Scott had caught its arm before the blow. There's a loud thump as Scott slams his palm into the creature's chest, sending him flying back across the room. He roars at it as you scramble to your feet, your shoulder crashing into a bookshelf.

You groan under your breath and feel your way back to the other side of the room, turning away from the fight to hopefully face the doors of the library. You hear sneakers squeaking against the tile in the hallway outside. You're drawn towards it, focusing as the sound grows louder, bracing yourself for a possible fight.

"You can't beat me. Us." Scott growls roughly, clenching his fanged teeth. "We're not afraid of you. Not anymore. You wanted enough power so that you could never be trapped again. You wanted the power of a shapeshifter like me. But that comes with all of the rules of being a shapeshifter!" Scott steps closer to the creature and you pause, slowly piecing together where Scott is going with all this. "We have weaknesses. And we have lines that we can't cross."

Mountain Ash.

Someone bursts into the library, the doors creaking open harshly and slamming back against the walls. A familiar scent leaks into the room and your eyes open in surprise to find that you had indeed been facing the doors. You stare at Stiles, and his eyes immediately go to you. He yanks you towards him as the creature turns to face you both, hurling a glass jar of mountain ash to the floor. It spreads across it, billows of smoke circling and curling around the creature, rising up its body quickly until its skin begins to turn to stone. And suddenly it's all over.

"Scott." Stiles says when he sees what's happened to him, his voice breaking.

You take in your brother's hollow, bruised sockets, blood coating his cheeks and dripping from then like lines of tears. And you race to hug him in the middle of the library, throwing your arms around his neck to pull him down. He rests his chin on your shoulder and squeezes you. You almost laugh in relief, feeling his heart beating steadily in his chest.

Alive.

********************************************************

You're seated at your desk days after, biology book open in front of you, surface scattered with notes for your upcoming test. But you can't bring yourself to focus yet, staring out the window in front of you and at the street below, chin resting in the palm of your hand. You find yourself taking small moments lately, to soak in the recent peace that has settled over the city. Now that you've known what it's like to almost loose it all. You hear his heartbeat before he clears his throat, and you turn to see him in the doorway of your room. He's leaning against the door jamb with a small smile, a bag hanging from his hand.

"I'm on my way." Scott swings the bag in emphasis. You push back from your desk in your wheeled chair, spinning to face him.

"Does mom know?"

"Yeah." He drops his bag at the threshold and steps into the room, digging through his coat pocket. "But before I do..." Scott tails off cryptically. He reaches out to take hold of your hand and draw it out in front of you, palm up. He holds it there with his hand resting lightly under yours, placing a cool silver object into your hand, a thin red lanyard hanging down over your fingers. He lets your hand go and you bring the object up to the light, watching the metal glint in the lamplight. It's his whistle from coaching earlier in the year. You raise an eyebrow at him.

"What's this?" You question.

"Coach let me keep it." He says looking proud of himself. "It's a symbol."

"That I...should sign up for more sports?"

"What? No." He laughs, dropping his hands heavily onto your shoulders. You close your fingers around the whistle and press the little trinket to your chest as he looks down at you, a mess of countless emotions flickering across his face all at once. Amusement. Fondness. Sadness. The briefest flash of uncertainty. "I'm proud of you." He begins softly. "Of how you handled yourself at the school. How far you've come, since that night in the hospital when everything changed." Scott steps back to scratch at the back of his neck, a habit you'd noticed he picked up from hanging around Stiles so much. He continues, "This is me...trying to pass on the mantle I guess. This city still needs people to protect it. That means you too."

You're surprised, and swallow thickly, willing to keep from crying in front of him. "Shouldn't Liam have this? He's been dying to be the Alpha." You find yourself joking. He smiles, hands going to his pockets.

"He's still got a little ways to go. And you can help him."

You surge forward to hug him, your words muffled by his coat, but you know he can still hear you clearly when his heart jumps in response. "I'm going to miss you."

His arms come up around you, squeezing you tight. "Me too. But you're going to be okay, I know it."

"I will...because of you."

You pull away at the sharp sound of a horn echoing from the driveway and peer out your window to see the jeep idling there. Stiles jumps out of the driver's side and quickly collides with the door when it swings back to hit him. Scott must know who it is by the look of amusement on your face, and you follow him to the open door of your room. He scoops up his bag and pauses before leaving, turning back to smile at you.

"Just howl if you need me. If you need any of us."

You hold up his gift, waving it at him with a grin. "Or whistle."

Scott laughs, nodding, and disappears around the corner, his footsteps echoing down the hallway. You hear him hurry down the stairs, the front door opening and closing with a solid slam. You rush back to the window and watch as Scott and Stiles high five each other, before your brother climbs into the passenger seat. Stiles looks up and salutes you with a teasing wink, retreating back into the driver's side of the jeep once you salute him back with a laugh. And you stand there, watching the jeep pull out of the driveway. The blue metal twinkles in the light of the lamp posts lining the street, until it disappears down the road and out of your vision. You sigh and hold up the whistle to the light again, draping the lanyard around your neck so that the whistle dangles down by your chest.

"Bye, Scott." You say, brushing your fingers gently over the metal. "Come home soon."

#teen wolf #teen wolf imagines #x reader #scott mccall #derek hale #malia tate #stiles stilinski #peter hale #theo raeken #tw #teen wolf imagine

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loreletters-blog · 5 years ago

Text

A Father to the Fatherless

Childlike

“Imagine yourself as a little kid who was brought to the park for the very first time”, the teacher said. I looked around as I watched my fellow colleagues ran around in the drama class. Laughter filled the air and the room was filled with everyone’s childlike wonder...

Except for mine.

“Why can’t I feel what they feel?

Why can’t I remember what it feels like to play like a little fellow?”

In a family of four where two of the oldest siblings were overseas and whose parents had just split up, a 10-year-old kid was forced to be the ‘oldest’ one in the house. Growing up, this kid never learned how to laugh and play freely like any normal little humans would do. She left behind her relationship with God as she had her eyes set on doing things right. Traumatised after witnessing how love breaks, she grew up to be an independent individual whilst leaving behind the innocence, trust, and the childlike awe and wonder she once held dear.

This little kid was me.

I don’t have any recollection of what my childhood was like. No happy thoughts. All I can remember are those memories that would sting every bit of me if it comes to mind. I remembered every single fights and arguments that ensued, every shouts and cries that echoed throughout the room, and every rivers of tears that flowed and raged. My 7-years-old brother and I would hide under the blankets everytime we heard shouts from the distance. “Hey, it’s going to be okay”, was the lie I would always say to my brother under the blankets. Hatred towards my dad started to blow up in my heart out of witnessing how my mom lay lifeless on the floor, soaked in tears, having no energy left to even mutter the word help. I hate you, I hate you, I hate you was an automatic thought every time I saw my dad. I hate him not only because of what he did to my mom, but because of what he didn’t get to be - a good father to his daughter. And yes, I was disappointed. Disappointed out of all the fake promises he made; out of all the fake love he gave.

Home for me was supposed to be this happy place where we can embrace our most childlike behaviours; where love was born. I spent 7 dark years of my life trying to find a sense of home. I spent 7 dark years of my life feeling homesick, trying hard to find the missing piece that would cover up this black hole that is sucking up every bit of joy away from me. That missing piece was love. I found myself adrift in the world trying to find a place where I can get my childlike spirit back. I fell into a vicious cycle. I found myself having a soft spot for guys who gave me the tiniest sliver of love. I fell for the wonderful act guys would pull in front of me, the ones that made me feel safe and loved. The only place where I can act and feel like a child was when I was with a guy. I thought I could receive that sense of ‘home’ I so longed for that I would sacrifice myself to keep guys from leaving me; like my dad did. I lost myself. But still, it didn’t stop people from deserting me.

I was broken. I didn’t know how to feel. Didn’t know my worth. Didn’t know myself.

I grew tired out of pursuing love, that I just stopped believing in it. For me, love was just an illusion out of a sick and cruel world. I shut myself out from the world and live in this comfortable little bubble of mine. Walls were built as high as the sky. No one could break in. Ever. I don’t need anymore disappointments from mere humans so I forced myself to be independent. I don’t need anyone. I’m all that I need.

God always seems like He is standing at a respectable distance from me, as if He is a mere bystander, ignoring all my pleas and cries for help. I couldn’t believe in His love. I used to think that God hated every bit of me that He would allow me to suffer like this. So yeah, no love there, nope. I don’t get it, really. I HATED Him. He was simply another cover up story the world made for me. But He never grew tired of chasing me down.

Going to church out of habit, I never really expected anything out of it. Like I said, it was all an illusion for me. But on one worship night, my pastor approached me, put his hands on both side of my head. I rolled my eyes, anticipating another lie.

“You don’t have to strive for love. When you think you have lost a father, look up, you have a Heavenly Father who loves you very much. You have received the Father’s love from Heaven. That is what you need to fill up that brokenness and emptiness inside you.”

I fell to my knees. Cheeks drenched in tears. I tried to brush it off but I couldn’t. The line “the Father’s love from Heaven” kept on resonating in my head.

I felt this urge to speak.

To speak to something (or Someone) that I know nothing of, I took a leap of faith:

“Jesus I need you”, I whispered towards the heavens for the first time since forever.

“JESUS I NEED YOU”, a little louder this time.

And in that instance, I felt heaven came down upon me, His grace and mercy fell upon me, crushing that darkness inside of me. God revealed to me that He is indeed there. Every second. Every moment. I was just too blinded to see.

As I trace back my steps, I realised I had abandoned the home I yearn for - the loving arms of our loving God. The fullness of this Fatherly love has begun to make me feel whole again. God reminded me of what it’s like to be like a child. He gave me, gave us, permission to trust without suspicion, to be ourselves anywhere, to bring our burdens and lay them down at the feet of our Father. He gave me permission to rest like the child I was never allowed to be. God chased after me and called me as a child of the living God (Luke 15:3-7; Romans 9:25-26). I regained my spirit back, laughing with true joy for I have been found again.

Declaring His grace over me, He restored that childlike awe and wonder. I am whole and finally home.

‘The LORD appeared to us in the past, saying:

“I have loved you with an everlasting love; I have drawn you with unfailing kindness. I will build you up again, and you, Virgin Israel, will be rebuilt. Again you will take up your timbrels and go out to dance with the joyful.’” - Jeremiah 31:3-4 (NIV)

#love #home #father #grace

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winchesterandpie · 8 years ago

Text

Son of a Patriotic Biscuit (Part 5)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x Reader

Word Count: 1689

Warnings: None (this is literally just fluff, guys)

A/N: It’s hard to believe that there’s only one more part! You guys have been awesome, and I am so very appreciative of the reception this story has had! It’s not to late to be added to the tag list for the final part if you want, just let me know. As always, feedback is appreciated. Gif is not mine.

Part One | Part Two | Part Three | Part Four

This time when I woke, the room was a bright white that burned into my eyeballs, even though my eyes were still closed. All the same, it was much more comforting than the last time I’d fallen from consciousness. Especially seeing as I hadn’t expected to wake up at all. Gradually, I became more aware of my surroundings, but this also brought with it the pain from my numerous injuries, though I was definitely on heavy pain medication.

With a small groan, I forced my eyes to open and noticed Steve sitting by the side of the bed, wearing a blue t-shirt and sweats. His hands held my right one and his face was pressed against the bed as he slept. The noise I made must’ve woken him up, for his blue eyes opened groggily. When he realized I was looking back at him, he shot bolt upright, creases from the sheets crisscrossing the side of his face.

“What were you thinking?” Of all the possible greetings, that was one that I was not expecting.

“Well hello to you too,” I replied tiredly and a bit snappishly, my voice rough from disuse.

“I expressly told you to stay here!” Well, now I knew where I was. “I knew you weren’t ready for a mission, but did you listen to me? No. You didn’t. And as a result, you were tortured for three weeks,” That answered how long I’d been missing, “and now you’re laying in that bed, and have been for the past two days. None of us were sure when or even IF you were going to wake up.” Throughout his little scolding, I stared at him indifferently, definitely high on whatever medication they had me on, raising an eyebrow at his excessive reaction

“You are a sad, strange little man,” was all I could think of, pain medication muddling my brain.

“That’s all YOU CAN SAY?” Apparently, I had said the wrong thing, as his loud, angry tone clearly conveyed. “You almost DIED, and all you can do is INSULT me? The person who saved your LIFE?” He probably said more, but I passed out again at that point, half amused that he hadn’t recognized Toy Story.

When I woke up, for good this time, the super soldier was still the one sitting beside me. He was asleep again, and I could tell from the window that it was the middle of the night. Since he wasn’t holding onto my hand this time, I took the opportunity to run my fingers through his hair - something I had dreamed of doing since my crush on him formed. It was just as soft as I had imagined, so I kept carding through it, smoothing the rumpled look that told me how tired he was.

Several minutes later, I was almost falling into asleep when Steve stirred. I gave him a small smile as my hand fell away from his hair. Sitting up more, he leaned forward and settled his face in his hands for a moment before looking back up at me.

“Hey. It’s good to see your eyes again.”

“There, see? That’s the greeting I was expecting when I first woke up.” I allowed my grin to spread wider across my face. An answering one slowly formed on Steve’s, and I was immensely grateful at being spared another lecture.

“Yeah… I guess I just… You really had me scared, doll.” He rubbed the back of his neck either nervously or sheepishly. Possibly a combination of both.

“I would’ve thought you’d be thinking more along the lines of ‘good riddance,’” I raised an eyebrow at him. “After all, you seem to believe that I’m particularly useless.” If I didn’t know better, I would have said that his shoulders slumped a little.

“You really think I would think that?” The question just slipped out of his mouth, sounding the tiniest bit sad.

“I mean, you’re always saying that I’m not ready…” I shrugged helplessly, not really knowing what else I could say. I mean, there had been the little moment right before I got myself caught, but I didn’t remember enough detail to recall if it changed anything. What little I could only served to strengthen the idea that he thought I needed looking out for and couldn’t handle it myself.

“You’re anything but useless, and I’m sorry I’ve ever made you feel like that… I just didn’t want you getting hurt. Now look how that turned out.” I tried to ignore my sinking heart - it sounded more like care for a sibling than anything else. I would just have to push my crush away like the impossible dream it was, but there was one question I had to ask first.

“You were going to say something then, before we split up in the warehouse… Mind me asking what it was?” I had to take a breath and steel myself for the answer, not entirely sure I would like it.

“You mean when you were tricking me into leaving you behind?” He sounded more amused than reproachful.

“That’s the one.”

“I was just… going to tell you that… that I… just that I’ve been… in love with you for a while now… and that I needed you to make it out of there.” His eyes were fixated on the floor, even as I melted at his answer, letting out a relieved sigh.

“Fricken fracken, mother truckin’, son of a biscuit eating, little old timing grandpa,” I paused before continuing under my breath, “with the body of a twenty-year-old.” That was apparently all I needed to draw his gaze up to mine, though there was a sadness there. I realized he thought that I was rejecting him. “Steve, I needed you to make it out of there. I knew what they do to people, and that you would be fascinating to them as a result of the whole super-soldier thing. I wasn’t about to let anyone else go through that, especially not the man I’m in love with. I figured that since I’d already survived and escaped once that I could manage it again. Or at least that it wouldn’t matter if I died.” “Wait, did you…?” His face scrunched up adorably in confusion and I had to resist the urge to lift my hand to touch his cheek. Mostly because it would hurt. “Did you really say what I think you said?”

“Depends on you think I said.” I thought back through what I had said, freezing for a millisecond when I realized what he must’ve been referring to.

“That you love me.” There was hope in his eyes, and I could see it - the same hope that I was sure had filled my eyes when he had confessed.

“Yeah. And I meant it.”

“I was worried I had imagined it for a second there.” He stood, and I tensed, fearful that he was deciding to leave, but relaxed as he moved to stand closer to my head. “It means I can finally do this.” Steve bent down to press a gentle kiss to my forehead, my cheek, my nose, before finally touching his lips to mine softly. All too soon he was pulling away and I heard a small whine of disappointment escape me. Chuckling lightly, he took his seat again, picking up my hand and rubbing his thumb over the knuckles.

“You fricken fracken, mother truckin’, son of a biscuit eating, amped up, steroid pumped little man. You can’t just leave it like that. Get back up here.” My, oh my, I sounded like a needy five year old. To be fair, I had been pining for the super soldier for a while, not to mention the whole “almost dying” thing, so I felt completely justified in demanding a little more attention. This brought a real laugh from him, brightening the room a little more.

“There will be plenty of time. For now, it’s the middle of the night. You need to rest.”

“Fricken fracken, mother truckin’, son of a biscuit eating, little prehistoric relic that belo--” I was cut off by his lips pressing against mine again. Smiling into the kiss, I moved my mostly uninjured wing to hold him closer to me. Eventually, of course, we had to pull back for air, so I took the opportunity to finish my phrase. “That belongs in a museum.” Smugly, I grinned up at him, wincing only slightly as it pulled at the injured skin.

“And here I was thinking that you loved me,” Steve replied, dramatically moving a hand to his heart as though I had wounded him. “Yet here we are, and you continue to insult me while barely pausing to take a breath between barbs.”

“Hey, I can’t help it if you leave yourself open to them. I simply have to take advantage of the opportunities as they come.” We laughed together at that.

“I suppose that’s true… Fair enough. You really should rest, though, alright?” He could see that I was about to argue, and continued so I couldn’t interrupt. “I’ll be right here when you wake up, and you can insult me some more then. How does that sound?”

“Spangles, I’ve been asleep for long enough. Besides, I… I don’t want t-to.” Sheepishly, I acknowledged my fear of the nightmares I knew were coming without saying it out loud, hoping that Steve would read between the lines and know what I meant. Fortunately, he picked up on my meaning, his eyes softening in sympathy.

“No one is going to hurt you here. I’ll chase all the nightmares away, doll.” He gently lifted my hand in his, placing it on his chest, over his heart. We sat there like that for a long moment, his steady heartbeat soothing my fraying nerves. “Feel that? As long as it’s still beating, I promise you I will keep you safe.” I nodded hesitantly, sinking back into the bed as Steve took his seat beside me again. With my cold hand in between his warm ones, I found my eyelids growing heavy again, and soon I was fast asleep.

Part Six

Forever Tags: @riddikulus-obsessions

Son of a Patriotic Biscuit Tags: @addictivewriter @barnes-toddpartnersinheartbreak @wildestdreamsrps

Series Masterlist

#Steve Rogers #Captain America #Steve x reader #Steve Rogers x reader #Captain America x reader #Avengers fanfiction #Marvel fanfiction #Avengers #Son of a Patriotic Biscuit

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