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cheelduh · 3 years

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How to strike your way into someone’s heart (Highschool AU)

Part 2 to this. Can be read alone!

Pairing: Childe x fem!reader

Warnings: A lot of swearing I mean what do you expect they’re all teenagers. Lots of brick slapping. Childe clowns Scaramouche. OH YES this isn’t edited at all lmfao have fun.

Synopsis: It’s your big date with Childe after you lost the bet miserably. You decide to pay the occult club a visit in hopes of finding something that can...ease your concerns. Childe on the other hand has Signora give him a friendly piece of advice, believe it or not.

Note: SRY THIS TOOK ME LIKE A MONTH

For as long as you can remember, you've never believed in ghosts, demons, or souls that lose their way in the endless void, forced to roam the earth in repentance.

Believing in the unknown takes creativity, adventure, maybe even a little sense of fear. Scratch that—a shitton of fear, because humans love to weave in their insecurities and inability to explain something into something of a phenomenon.

Bad luck lies in this category. Bad luck is simply a way to justify the catastrophe that one cannot admit they have fabricated themselves. Everyone wants a reason as to why shit hits the fan, and it can be anything but their own fault.

Bad luck is nothing but a load of bull to you. That's totally why you're standing outside the calculus classroom during lunch break, which happens to be the official meet spot for the occult club.

You raise a fist to knock, but then falter, thinking over your options once again. Is this what it has come to? Putting your faith into the weird kids that once tried to summon Schrödinger's cat for the physics final.

Fischl kicks the door wide open, a smirk playing at her lips once she spots you. "One cannot refrain from the song of your cogitation. The feline for which thou dwell on—"

A squeak leaves your throat and you flinch back, cutting her off. "You can read my mind?"

"Fischl," An icy eyed boy shows up from behind her and points a thumb back. "Mona needs your help."

Fischl squints at you for a brief moment, and then spins onto her heel to go back into the room.

The blue haired lower class man, Chongyun you guess, narrows his eyes at you. "Is there something I can help you with?"

Finally you manage to speak, palms all sweaty. "Yeah uh, I need your help. You know, with occulty things." You use your hands to articulate your thoughts, but ultimately give up.

You're not sure if it's pity towards your pathetic explanation or simply annoyance, but Chongyun widens the opening. He silently gestures for you to follow.

Stumbling on your feet and putting on your big girl pants, you hurry inside of the room, hoping you aren't seen by Beidou. She wouldn't let you hear the end of this.

The temperature instantly drops, and you have to adjust your sight to navigate. There's heavy incense in the air as well as a a few lighted candles from the dollar store, you guess.

Sitting smack dab in the middle of all the demonic markings is Mona, with a mischievous glint in her eyes. Chongyun has made his way next to her, crossing his arms with a sigh, and Fischl is busy cooing at her bird.

"Well well well..." Mona's amused, eyes almost twinkling as she gets up from the poor desk that had to suffer the wrath of her ass. "If it isn't Y/N."

Mona is a glorified dick wiper in your books. One time, she partnered up with you in chemistry last year and refused to do any work because apparently her "star sign" said she was incompatible with science. You haven't forgiven her since.

"I need your help." You barely manage to choke out the words, reigning yourself in by clenching your fists instead. It'll be unethical to claw her face, especially since you're the one who's come to her.

"Oh?" She smiles wickedly, revelling in every moment of this no doubt. "Why would the high and mighty Y/N need help from the 'Whoroscope whore'?"

Fischl nearly slips out a laugh, trying with her upmost ability to refrain from rolling all over the floor.

You blink away your tears of almost-laughter, casually sliding in twenty mora across the table dividing you two. If she's a whoroscope whore like you say she is, she'll definitely put it in her bra.

Mona raises a brow, but her eyes linger on the bill for a second too much. "What makes you think I'll do it for money?"

"That's simple," You say, rolling your eyes. "When you see mora, you cling to it like a baby clings to a tit. Now just take it and solve my issues."

She fumes a litany of curses but snatches the money up anyways.

"What do you want?"

You breathe in, then out. "I need a talisman."

Mona raises a brow, hand on her hip. "I'm sorry. Did I get that right?"

How dare she. You will your eye into not twitching, the beginnings of fire thrumming through your veins, scalding hot. How dare she make me repeat myself.

"You know, the thing to fend off evil spirits," Your statement hangs heavy in the air as the cogs in their brains click into place. "I need one that can remove the most evilest thing times ten to the power of twenty five on this planet."

Everyone immediately thinks of Hu Tao.

Chongyun is the first to speak from an area of expertise, seemingly shocked at your words. "Are you sure you want a talisman that powerful? How bad is the evil spirit you've come across?"

You glance out the window, through the semi-open blinds. The apprehension curls in your stomach once you spot Childe chasing Aether with safety scissors, and you've never been more sure of than anything in your life.

Gulping, you turn back to the exorcist. "I'm 110% sure."

He doesn't ask any more questions and goes to fetch the talisman.

Mona clears her throat. "So I hear you have a date with Childe today. Quite the character you've taken to."

"Oh please," You hiss through your teeth, your blood pressure going up tenfold, "you're the one that told him our star signs were intertwined and that we're fated lovers."

She shrugs innocently, stance casual unlike your own that is ready to lunge an attack.

"Here you are," Chongyun hands you a talisman, a colourful mix of some charms, some kind of liquid in a bottle, and about a shitton of other things. "You'll need these if you're going to face the most demonic of all evils."

You think of Childe's stupidly handsome smirk, the playful life of his eyes, and how gentle and considerate he is with you. You think about how cruel he is to others, but how loving he can be to you.

"Oh, I will be."

—

Childe is getting his ass handed to him by Scaramouche on the switch. It's just that he can't seem to focus, not with the forthcoming date all over his mind.

He hasn't experienced these kind of jitters in a long time. Has to endure that foolish smile that's about to plaster all over his face.

Scaramouche may be a son of a bitch with an agenda, but he doesn't appreciate his acquaintances safeguarding their personal crap when it starts to leak onto him. Especially when it comes to video games.

"Okay," The short boy sighs, stretching over the staff room sofa to drop his controller on the cushions. "Let's hear it." He can't even properly enjoy his victories when Childe isn't giving it his all.

"Hear what?" Childe lays his head back, relaxing from all the strain of endless gaming during the lunch hour. He seems too relaxed for someone who's broken into the teacher's lounge.

"Why you're so distracted." Scaramouche points out. "Not that I care—hey! I'm serious here!"

Childe's cracking up for absolutely no reason, rudely cutting him off. "I'm sorry—sorry it's just so hard to take you seriously when you're wearing that stupid fucking hat."

"Don't question the drip." The older moves his head to glare at him, but the thin stripe of silk on his hat swooshes with him, and it's enough to have Childe clutching his stomach in pain as he barks out in laughter.

"Grow the fuck up." Scaramouche says, no doubt exasperated from the constant shit he gets.

"Ok—ok I'm sorry."

There's a knock on the door before Scaramouche gets the chance to intimidate him again.

"Fuck shit fuck who is that? Wasn't there a staff meeting?" Childe whisper yells, panic clear in the ocean of his eyes.

Scaramouche shrugs and downs a can of soda with no care in the world.

Childe would be nonchalant too. If it were a normal day, he wouldn't give two shits about getting caught.

However, he's looking forward to that date he has with you today. Detention is going foil all his lecherous plans.

"It's me." The feminine sound of a threat calls out from the other side. "Open the door." The clicks and clacks of her toes tapping the floor indicating her impatience.

The two sigh in relief, Childe getting up to open the door. It's way too early in the afternoon to deal with this crap.

"Surprised to see me?" Signora greets sweetly, and if not for the murderous glint in her eyes, he would smile back.

"Yeah, I didn't say Bloody Mary three times." The ginger replies, keeping a steady eye on the upperclassman in case she pulls a fast one.

The blonde shoves him aside in offence, and prances in like she owns the goddamn place. Scaramouche greets her with the bird.

"There's this rumour going around—I'm sure you've heard..."

"Oh?" Childe pockets his keys, ready for an attack, not even remotely interested in the topic.

"Something about how Y/N gave Mona a visit today" Signora muses, elegantly taking a seat on the arm of the couch, "with your date and all, I just thought you should know."

"Hah!" Scaramouche bursts out in laughter, tears in the corner of his eyes. "I can't believe she went to get a horoscope reading on how shitty your date's gonna be."

"Get castrated." Childe growls, flipping him off on both hands.

"Now now boys," Signora's lips curl, and she clasps both manicured hands together, prepared to break the fight if it ever reaches its peak. "Settle down. You two are comrades."

"As if I'm comrades with this SIMP!" Scaramouche has to wheeze out the words.

The youngest clenches his fists, unclenches, and then lets a smirk grow. "Oh? I'm the simp? What about that time Mona pantsed you in-front of all the freshmen and you fell in love with her."

Scaramouche glares at him, a glare strong enough to have anyone shaking in their shoes. "I'm attracted at her sheer audacity of trying to fuck I, Scaramouche, the 8th harbinger, over. It takes balls."

"Mad respect." Signora leans forward to place her phone on the coffee table, then approaches Childe. "Moving on, the reason I've decided to bestow my precious intel on you is because I have a favour to ask of you."

"What?" He says blankly, confused that she has a request for him out of all people.

"I need you to let me get you ready for this date of yours." She gives him a gaze that is enough to wither away any arguments.

Childe shares a look with Scaramouche as if to say "am I fucking deaf because I sure as shit didn't just hear that."

"You sure as hell did, boys." Signora intercepts the connection of their two brainwaves with a dreaded sigh. "I hate Y/N. This is the only way I can get back at her."

"Hey!" Childe exclaims loudly, waving his hands in the air incessantly. "What makes you think I'll let you shit on my future girlfriend."

"I'll be doing nothing of the sorts." She points out, giving him a sly smile. "I just know she's terrified of what's coming. The better the date is, the more she's gonna hate herself. What more do I need but to sprinkle some inner conflict within her airtight resolve?"

As favorable as the proposal is, Childe contemplates for a second. Signora...helping him? This could work to his advantage if he plays his cards right.

His inner turmoil takes him into the future, where you two are happily married with eight and a half kids. If you ever managed to find out Signora was the culprit that was finally able to set you two up, you'd never forgive him.

"Nah I'll take a hard pass." He doesn't want to think about divorce and custody battles this early on. He'd rather face the brunt of Signora's wrath.

Scaramouche chooses right then to make a tactical withdrawal out through the window since he doesn't want to be a witness to a murder he hasn't caused.

Surprisingly— "Fine then." Signora shrugs, unbothered when summoning out a minty juul from no where. She's disappointed nonetheless.

Childe tilts his head, perplexed, but decides against mulling over it for too long. Instead, he strides off to the door, wanting to get the last two periods over with so he can run home and freshen up for this date.

"Oh and Childe?" Signora calls out to him, but he barely acknowledges her, only pausing momentarily without looking back. "A piece of friendly advice. A diligent student like Y/N, there's no way she'd be into rash things like fighting. So try and control yourself, hmm?"

He flashes the senior a sheepish smile, the front row tickets to the illegal underground fight-club burning in the back pocket of his pants.

—

Childe conceals near the bushes by the gate, expertly hiding his shaking hands by pretending to look for something in his back. His goal isn't to seem desperate, even though he's raced out here at the speed of light after Havria's dismissal.

It's not like he's trying to eavesdrop or anything. He just wants a little insight on how you're feeling about this, in case the rumors of you visiting the occult club wasn't a farce.

From his peripheral, he spots you and a familiar figure that is Lisa, leisurely walking side by side as you approach the main side walk.

"Ready for your date, Y/N? You've been daydreaming all afternoon." Lisa winks, and dodges the shove you send her way with experience like no other.

"Yes, daydreaming about punching you in the face." Your left eye twitches in annoyance as you fix your hold on your skateboard.

"Well then, I'll be off—ah!"

The gorilla grip you have on her sleeve takes away all the time she has to get on the last bus she's about to miss.

Your utter strength is enough to make Childe's knees weak. How pathetic he thinks.

"Oh no you don't," You say in a sing-song voice, "you got me into this, so you're going to help."

"Help with what?" Lisa fakes a hard pout as she bats her lashes, trying to collect pity points.

"I—" You inhale, loosening your grip on her and averting your eyes nervously to see if anyone's watching. "Don't make me say it."

The older girl motions for you to continue, and you're sure you've suffered more for less at this point.

"I've never...been on a..." The sentence ends in a trailed murmur.

Childe doesn't think he's ever seen you so flustered. He's about to snap a picture for later, but decides against it. They'll be plenty of moments later on to see your cute expressions.

Lisa's grin is both seductive and terrifying, Childe notices. "You've never been on a date?"

"Shut up!" You hiss, dropping your board so you can cover her lips with your palm, eyes darting around your surroundings frantically. "Not so loud."

He has to bite at his fist to hide his amusement.

As if she has a sixth sense, Lisa's eyes somehow find Childe's through the abundance of leaves, and there's a glint in her eyes that nearly makes him shart his pants.

"Of course Y/N," She replies sweetly to you, who is currently unaware of the staring match going on. "I'll teach you everything you need to know...and more."

Childe doesn't know if that's a good or bad thing. Nor does he want to find out.

—

You ponder on what's taking him so long, more on edge than you usually are. Thankfully, Lisa basically pried your hair down from its usual up-do. Said something about how you can hide your lack of shits given as to not offend him.

Except you think you're giving more shits that you expected to. Why else would your heart be pounding so hard?

"What took you so long?" You sense him creeping up on you, ceasing his chance to pounce.

Childe groans playfully and slaps a hand over his face as he comes into view. "How'd you know?"

"You have a douche-styled gait." You reply as you remove your gaze off your phone to approach him.

He's prepared to shoot a witty reply, but it dies halfway through his throat when he procures a good look at you. Your hair frames your face elegantly, eyes shining despite the tiredness that's so clear, all complete with a cooling spring dress that hugs you just right.

Mouth going dry, he forgets how to speak the common tongue, unable to tear his gaze off your form.

You shift in place awkwardly. "Uh are you okay? Looking a little...blank."

"Sorry—sorry just thinking." Childe stumbles over his words like the complete idiot and a half he is, berating himself countlessly on the inside. He regains his confidence once he spots the light dust on your cheeks. "You ready for the best date ever?"

"The best date huh?" It's the first time you smile today, and he swears his heart leaps in his rib cage. You're the prettiest thing he's ever laid his eyes on. "I'm ready. I better not be disappointed."

"I wouldn't dare disappoint, girlie." He feigns mock offence as dramatically as possible. "I'll show you how to have some real fun. Cool keychain by the way, for good luck?"

It's one of the charms Chongyun urged you to carry with you at all times to keep all forms of evil away.

"Yeah...something like that."

The two of you ease into the walk in a relatively comfortable fashion, contributing with lively chatter and a few jabs here and there. It's not awkward at all, not like you thought it would be. Your nerves loosen up, mind diverting from the roots of the stress of high school.

"—And you won't believe what Kaeya did the other day. I'm telling you there's something wrong with him because that SoundCloud rapper wannabe Venti goaded him into birdboxing through the hallways at lunch."

"And the son of a bitch did it?"

"The son of a bitch did it." Childe confirmed, gasping through his laughs as the two of you converse in psychobabble. "And guess who he bumped into?"

You're choking in laughter, tears in your eyes as you hunch over and shake. "He didn't. Childe—no he didn't."

"Straightttt into Diluc. And he had the balls to feel him up because he thought he bumped into a hot bab—"

Childe crashes into a sturdy chest and stumbles backwards towards you, but manages to catch his balance midway. Both of you freeze when faced with a buff guy from another school, bandages on his fist and a crooked smirk on his face.

Fuck. You think. Classic high school cliché.

Realizing he can't risk the remainder of this date when it hasn't even begun, Childe raises a hand in apology, aiming to be the bigger person instead of socking the kid in the face.

"Sorry. I wasn't looking." He offers to the guy, but you can tell he isn't buying any of it. There are about four more kids who group, a setup that isn't going to end in your favour.

"Hey punk. You don't remember me?" The upperclassmen barks out, glaring holes into your date.

You deadpan towards Childe, but he's too is racking his brain to remember. Ends up shrugging with no recollection.

"I have a list of names but they're in my other pants." Shit, what an a-grade reply. Now you know you're done for. "Listen dude, I'm kind of on a date and the vibe is going great. Don't ruin it."

"It's a good thing she's here to watch then!" The guy yells, stomping so that he's right in-front of Childe, ready to pounce. "You humiliated me in front of my gang last week. I'm here to rip you a new one."

Childe blinks, tries to remember, and when he doesn't, he grabs a wad full of cash from the his Fanny pack and throws it at the guy's feet.

Everyone's eyes bulge out of their sockets, including yours at the amount of money placed there casually on the crack of the dirty sidewalk.

"Hopefully this is enough for the damages." Childe offers, aiming to not further escalate the situation albeit how pissed he is right now. If you weren't here...well that would be another, much more violent story.

With a soft tug, Childe brings you close and begins to pass the guy, until he's abruptly stopped by a hand gripping his shoulder tightly.

"I don't think so!" The guys barks, and his lackeys move to surround you two. "You gotta pay taxes too buddy." Oh he's getting way too comfortable now.

A feral smile grows on Childe's face as he looks over his shoulder. "Oh?"

"Yeah shithead." The guy seethes, puffing out his chest to size him up.

Childe itches for a fight. He can no longer keep in the urge and is just about ready to raise a heavy fist, but is beaten by the sound of a loud thwack, and then a painful groan following.

There you are, standing in front of the trembling asshole, spinning your crossbody bag in circles like it's a nunchuck in all it's glory. There's a deadly glint in your eyes, pure, unadulterated vexation in your features.

If Childe could fall for you any harder, it's probably happening now. In that exact moment, his heart beats in his ears uncontrollably, and there's nothing but raw adoration that piles up all at once.

You're an angel of destruction, a force not to be reckoned with, and shit, you're the eye of the fucking storm.

Fire courses through your veins as you pulverize the guy with your bag, swinging with such expertise it has Childe in awe. "He may be an absolute idiot for not remembering—"

"Hey girlie you're killing me here!" Your date snaps out of his astonishment temporarily.

"—but you don't get to call him a shithead, you asshole!" You snarl angrily, gripping the handle of your bag tightly, decking everyone that lunges at you, letting out strings of curses with every hit. Every hit sends a flock of them either stumbling back in pain, or knocked out completely.

Childe doesn't even get a chance to lift a finger by the time you're done violating them with your heavy ass pink bag. Stands there like an absolute loser.

"Apologize." You pant, prepared to send another flurry of attacks at the leader, who is crawling away with a battered face. "Apologize or I'll—I'll fucking Russian neck tie your ass."

"S-sorry!" The guy whimpers out and tries not to piss his pants at the threat.

Childe is still in too much shock at the whole ordeal to reply, short circuiting.

Another thirty seconds pass until he registers the smaller hand waving in front of his face. He catches your cold hand through his haze, brings it closer.

Running a free hand through his locks, he doesn't hide his astonishment. "You're fucking gorgeous, girlie." He whistles lowly, eyeing you with a new kind of regard.

"I-I uh." Your face is all shades of red by now, the adrenaline from kicking ass wearing down. "Let's go."

"How is that bag so heavy?" One of the fallen gasps out in pain, clutching his ribs as he trembles on the floor. "Like a buh-brick."

A part of your zipper in open, and Childe briefly peeks out of morbid curiosity. His jaw slackens. "Is that a...no, it can't be."

"It's a brick." You murmur guiltily, gnawing at your bottom lip. "Just in case." Fingers tentatively play with the straps.

Childe is head over heels by now, all smitten as a foreign warmth bubbles up in his throat, and he's just about sure he'll puke his heart out.

His next words are picked out carefully. "There's an underground fight club going on—"

You lock and aim for his right kidney.

Worth a try, Childe thinks.

"SIKE. Joking—joking. Just a joke." He insists, gloved hands raised by his ears in defence.

Clicking your tongue, you scowl and rush past him.

It hasn't even been an hour and it's been the most exciting date Childe's ever experienced. When he sees your lips twitch, he knows it's the same for you as well.

"Are we going or not?" You mumble, avoiding eye contact, a tinge of red still decorating your cheeks.

Childe crumbles into his hands at your deadly duality. One that comes for his enemies and one that comes straight for his heart.

#genshin impact #genshin impact oneshot #childe x reader #childe #genshin tartagalia #genshin oneshot #tartagila #mona genshin impact #Chonghyun #kaeya alberich #master diluc #venti genshin impact #fischl #lisa genshin impact #jean gunnhildr #fanfic

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rowyn-writes · 3 years

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Dying From a Broken Heart

Part Two of Confidence

Warnings: Violence, angst, language, arguing, blood, fluff

Pairings: Jack x Winchester!Reader

Characters: Jack Kline, Sam Winchester, Dean Winchester, Castiel, Rowena, Eros, Reader

Word Count: 3.1k

Summary: While you and Jack are at the motel, you make a shocking discovery. You're not dealing with a pack of werewolves like you thought, but Eros, God of Love and Lust. You finally figure out the connection between Eros and the victims. . . Only to find out that you're next.

You and Jack were still doing research when Sam and Dean came back. "Okay, so get this." You said, turning around in your chair. "Every year, six people go missing and are found dead with their hearts torn out."

"A ritual?" Sam inquired.

"Exactly what I was thinking, dear brother." You grinned. "Now, big city like this, six missing people is something you'd hardly notice."

"Yeah, but why would a werewolf preform a ritual?" Dean asked.

"That's what Jack and I kept asking ourselves." You said, looking over at your boyfriend. "Why in the world would a Purebred werewolf need to preform some kind of ritual?" You stood up, rummaging around in your backpack for a book. You gave a triumphant smile as you held up your Greek Mythology book.

"Eros. God of Love and Lust." You opened the book to the page that was dedicated to the god.

"But their hearts were torn out." Dean furrowed his eyebrows. "What would Eros want with hearts?"

"It's a sacrifice for him." You informed the men. "Think about it. None of the vics had bites or even scratches. At first, I thought it was a Purebred werewolf because the attacks didn't line up with the lunar cycle. But the more I thought about it, the more that this makes sense. People used to worship Eros and make sacrifices for him, but now hardly anyone believes in him anymore. So Eros goes out and gets his own sacrifices."

Sam and Dean seemed impressed while Jack seemed proud. "Okay." Dean nodded. "That means that since he failed with the last victim, he's going kill again."

You tried your hardest to think of some kind of connection with all the deceased. You knew there had to be something in common since they were dealing with a god. They seemed to be picky with their sacrifices.

"What are you thinking about, Y/n?" Jack asked, resting his hand on top of yours, something that didn't go unnoticed by your brothers. Dean was about to say something when Sam stomped on his foot, earning a grunt from Dean.

"I'm trying to find the connection between everyone. Because I know there has to be one." You picked at a tear in your jeans while you tried to connect the dots.

Then it hit you like a ton of bricks. You stood up abruptly, startling the men in the room. "I know what Eros looks in for a sacrifice." You stated, grabbing your notepad to look at the stuff you had written down. "Everyone we interviewed said the victims just had a big announcement. The 55 year old man was celebrating his 30th anniversary with his wife, the 28 year old woman was newly engaged, the 45 year old man just started dating again after his wife died, and so on until the fifteen year old girl. She had just gotten her first girlfriend when she was attacked."

"What are you saying, Y/n?" Jack questioned.

"I'm saying that Eros is targeting people with an immense amount of pure love. That's what he's looking for!"

"Wow." Sam said, looking at his little sister in admiration. "That's genius, Y/n." He patted her on the shoulder, only to furrow his eyebrows. "What's that on your collarbone?"

You gave Sam a confused look as you headed to the bathroom. There, on your collarbone was a dark red circle. You sucked in a sharp breath.

"I know who the next target is." You told the men.

"Who?" Jack seemed worried by the look on your face.

"It's me."

. .

. . .

"How did this even happen?!" Sam exclaimed.

"I don't know!" You defended yourself, your voice raised slightly. "The whole time we were out I was with you guys. Jack and I never left the motel room while you two were gone."

"That is true." Jack nodded. "Y/n and I stayed in here and she agreed to be my girlfri-"

You put your hand over his mouth. "Now's not the time, babe." You could feel Dean glaring a hole through you and Jack.

"Okay, let's think about this for a second." You said, trying to calm everyone down. "Maybe this is a good thing."

"A good thing?!" Dean roared. "Y/n, how in the hell is this a good thing?!"

"Dean." Sam hissed, cuffing his brother. "Calm down and let Y/n talk." You threw Sam a grateful look.

"This way we can lure Eros out, and kill him. Apparently all it takes is a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood."

"I don't like this plan." Jack muttered.

"See! Thank you." Dean said, clearly pleased with the Nephilim.

"Jack-"

"No, Y/n. You're not going to put yourself in danger just to kill this god. I won't allow it."

"Oh for the love of-" You sighed, pinching the bridge of your nose. "Eros is coming for me either way. It's better to be prepared and have a plan rather than to just sit here and let him tear my heart out!"

"Don't talk like that!" Jack insisted angrily. You understood that he was worried about you, but you were a grown woman and could make your own decisions.

"It's inevitable, Jack." You said softly. "Eros will come for me. We know from the victims that he kills them 24 hours after being marked. I have maybe 18 hours at best."

Dean was furious. "This is your fault!" He growled at Jack. "You're the reason my baby sister is being targeted!"

Jack looked taken aback. "I didn't want this for Y/n." He said sincerely. "If I could trade places with her, I would."

"That's the problem!"

"Dean-" You started, only to get interrupted by your oldest brother.

"You think you're in love with her, but you're not! It's unnatural. Nephilim, they can't fall in love. All those stupid movies that Y/n and Sam let you watch made you think you're in love with her. You can't love Y/n."

You felt your throat close up, hurt by Dean's words. "Is it that hard to think someone could love me?" You whispered.

Dean's hard glare softened as his eyes landed on you. "Of course not, sweetheart. But Jack. . . He's not right for you."

"Oh, and you know what's best for me?" You growled. Your hurt turned to annoyance and anger.

"Yes, I do. I'm your brother."

Sam and Jack gave each other looks. It was bad when Sam and Dean argued, but when you and Dean argued, it was catastrophic.

"And John was my dad, and he never knew what was best for me! That doesn't mean anything!"

"Oh, so family doesn't mean anything to you?"

"Dean, come on man, you know that's not what she meant." Sam tried to reason.

"Stay out of it, Sam!" Dean yelled.

You could tell Sam was growing annoyed with Dean. His frown deepened, his eyes hardened, and his hand began to twitch.

"No! I won't stay out of it. I am tired of you mistreating Jack and Y/n!"

"Oh, I do not mistreat them!" Dean argued. "Jack, do I mistreat you?" Jack seemed uncomfortable being put on the spot. You knew he looked up to Dean, but Dean had also said some rather hurtful things about Jack.

While Sam, Dean, and Jack continued their argument, you were able to slip away unnoticed.

You were crying now, the thought of dying scared the crap out of you. And your brothers and Jack arguing didn't help the situation.

You looked around the parking lot, looking for something to hotwire. You came across a black Harley Davidson Dyna Super Glide Sport. And the dumbass was stupid enough to leave the keys in the ignition.

You started the engine, listening to the bike purr. You threw back the kickstand and began driving. You didn't know where you were going, all you knew was that you had to get out of there.

You weren't stupid, of course, you had your gun and a silver dagger just in case.

You planted both of your feet on the ground at a stop light. You were still crying, and you couldn't figure out why. You were just so angry.

You ended up stopping at a small dive bar outside of Little Rock. There were a total of ten people there, and most were men.

You flag down the bartender and order a beer. Around twenty minutes later, a man slide in the seat beside you. He said nothing as he ordered a drink. The man seemed so familiar to you, but you couldn't put your finger on it. He had curly, dark brown hair, and beautiful blue-grey eyes. He was handsome in all aspects of the word. But he was nothing compared to Jack.

"I've never seen you here before." He said to you.

"Oh, I uh - I'm just passing through." You gave him a tight smile.

You felt your phone buzz in your pocket. You grabbed it, looking down to see that Dean's as calling you. You sent him to voicemail, something that was bound to piss him off.

"Guy troubles?" The man inquired.

"More like brother troubles." You laughed. "I'm Y/n, by the way."

"Elliott." He smiled, showing off a gleaming row of white teeth. "So, what's going on with your brother?"

"Brother's, actually. They treat me like a baby, just because they're older than me."

"That's what brothers are supposed to do." Elliott shrugged. "They're supposed to look out for you, protect you." Your phone rang again, this time, it was Sam. You sent him to voicemail as well and put your phone on silent.

"Yeah, I guess." You agreed. "But -" You cut yourself off, not wanting to dump all your feeling onto this random stranger.

"But what?" He asked, curious to what your response was.

"There's this guy, this amazing, wonderful, sweet and funny guy. He cares about me, and I care about him, but my oldest brother, he thinks we shouldn't be with each other." You confessed, taking a sip of your beer.

"Is he respectful towards you?" You nodded. "He cares about you and treats you right?" You nodded once more. "Then what's the problem?"

"I don't know." You mumbled. "My brother just doesn't trust him, even though he has no reason not to."

"Call it a brother's intuition." Elliott grinned. You blinked as your vision began to blur. "Hey, you okay?" You let out a slurred response. "Let's get you some air." Elliott helped you out of your chair and outside. You felt the cold air nip at your cheeks, making you feel a thousand times better.

Your head began to spin, the world shifting around you. "I don't feel so well." You groaned. Your body went limp, and the last thing you felt was a pair of strong arms wrapping around you to keep you from falling.

. .

. . .

"Guys!" Jack yelled over Sam and Dean, trying to catch their attention. "GUYS!" Jack's eyes flared orange, finally getting Sam and Dean to stop arguing. "Where's Y/n?"

Sam and Dean looked around the room frantically. Jack looked into the bathroom and found nothing. "Damnit!" Dean growled. "How could she have left without us noticing?!"

"Well, you and Sam were rather angry, I think it was very easy for her to slip away." Dean glared at Jack.

"So help me God, if a single hair on her head is out of place, all hell will break loose, and it'll be on you." Sam sighed, shaking his head.

Dean dialed your phone number, looking apprehensive. "Y/n, I swear if you sent me to voicemail on purpose, I am going to kill you! Answer me, damnit!"

"Let me try." Sam mumbled. "Y/n, please call and let us know you're okay. We're worried."

"I can find her." Jack said hopefully. He closed his eyes, searching for any sign of you. He saw you sitting next to a guy in a bar, he saw the man put something in your drink, and he saw you pass out outside of the bar.

Jack grew angry. He knew what happened to you was wrong, he could feel you were in distress. "She's in trouble."

. .

. . .

"Wakey wakey, sunshine!" Elliott cheered as he threw water on your face. You gasped, bolting awake. You found that you were bound in a chair, the thick rope cutting into your skin. You looked around to see that you were in some kind of a abandoned building.

You were relieved to see that you still had on all your clothes. "I was worried for a second. I thought I might have given you too high of a dose for your body."

"You roofied me." You groaned.

"I did! But you have to understand, Y/n, I would have never gotten you out of there otherwise. You're one of the strongest sacrifices I've ever had."

"Eros." You said in realization.

"Ding ding ding! We have a winner!" Eros almost seemed happy by the situation. "You are going to be one of the best sacrifices I've had. A hunter with a strong heart full of compassion and pure love. The perfect candidate."

"Please," You whimpered. "Let me go."

Eros sucked in a breath, faking remorse. "You see, I wish I could. . . But I can't. I need you. Ever since the last sacrifice escaped, I've been looking for a new one. And then your brother's, boy wonder and you roll into town. I knew as soon as I saw you that you were perfect. Almost too perfect."

You felt a tear slip down your cheek. "Please. I don't want to die. I'm only 21, there's so much things I haven't done yet. Let me live." You pleaded.

"I was hoping you'd say that." Eros grinned, pulling up a chair in front of you, sitting with his chest on the back of the chair. "I was actually looking for a wife." He gave you a wicked grin that made you squirm in your seat. "I need an heir, or heiress, I don't discriminate. I just want someone to pass my powers off to, to teach. So, I can let you live if you agree to be my wife."

"Rot in hell." You spat, disgusted by the thought of marrying Eros. He grew annoyed, as he punched you, your head snapping back.

"That's too bad." Eros shook his head. "But, at least I'll get to enjoy killing you."

You watched in horror as Eros' fingernails grew into sharp, claw-like hands, almost like a werewolves. You screamed in pain as he drew his finger over your face. "Shh, shh, love. It's gonna be okay." You gave out a small cry, struggling against the ropes.

"The more you struggle, the more it's going to hurt." Eros said in a singsong voice.

You began whispering apologies in your head, to Sam, Dean, Jack, Cas, Rowena, everyone. There were so many unfinished words, so many unsaid 'I love you's,'

"I'm sorry." You whispered. You screamed out once more as Eros dug his nails into your chest.

"Y/N!" You heard Dean yell. Sam, Dean and Jack appeared from behind a crate, your brothers carrying guns, and we'll, Jack himself was a weapon.

"Ah, ah, ah." Eros grinned wickedly. "I am holding her life in the palm of my hand; literally. So put down those shiny guns, and step away from them." Sam and Dean looked at each other. Eros scowled as he dug his nails deeper into your skin. You cried out in pain, feeling his nails getting closer to your heart.

"Alright! Alright!" Sam said hastily, setting down his gun and stepping away, encouraging Dean to do the same.

You were quite the sight for the men. You had blood coating your clothes, a bruised eye from the blows that Eros landed earlier, your hair was a mess and you face was streaked with tears.

"Get away from her!" Jack bellowed.

"Oh, look, it's your lover boy." Jack's words only made Eros angrier, as he retracted his hand, and swiped his claws over your face, creating four long gashes.

"I said get away from her!" Jack's eyes began to glow orange, and he trembled with anger. Eros looked frightened as he was sent flying back into the wall.

Sam and Dean surged forward, both carrying a wooden stake dipped in lambs blood, while Jack went to help you.

"It's okay," He whispered. "I've got you." You gave out a small whimper as he cut the ropes. "Can you stand?" You tried to stand up with the help of Jack, but your knees buckled beneath you. Jack scooped you up in his arms. You buried your head in his chest, turning away from you brothers, who were currently killing Eros.

"Take me home." You mumbled before darkness enveloped you.

. .

. . .

When you awoke, you were in your bed at the bunker, surrounded by Cas, Sam, Dean, Jack and Rowena.

"Y/n." Dean breathed a breath of relief as he hugged you. You winced in pain, your body still sore from you attack. "I am so sorry. I never should have said those things to you. I'm so glad you're okay."

"It's okay, Dean." You assured him. Even though you said you were fine, there was still pain swimming in his eyes.

"We couldn't heal your wounds with magic," Rowena informed you. "Since Eros was the one to injure you, it will have to heal naturally. I did make you some herbs that will stop the pain, however."

"Thanks, Rowena." You smiled. The room began emptying out, everyone wanted to let you rest. Jack, however, didn't leave your side.

"I'm sorry, Y/n." He whispered.

"Why are you sorry?" You asked, squeezing his hand.

"I let you get hurt. I should have gotten there sooner." You saw there were tears in his eyes. You frowned as you scooted over.

"Come lie beside me." Jack hesitantly climbed into the bed, pushing aside the covers. You wrapped your arms around his middle and rested your head on his chest. "You got me out of there when you did. I'm okay, and that's all that matters."

"But-"

You cut Jack off with a kiss. "I don't want to talk about it anymore." You mumbled, cupping his cheek. "I just want you to hold me."

"I can do that." Jack nodded, pulling you closer to his body. You decided to put on a movie as you and Jack cuddled. Halfway through the movie, you ended up falling asleep. Jack didn't sleep that often, but he felt so at peace that he fell asleep as well.

When everyone came to check on you again, their hearts melted at the sight of you and Jack. "Oh, just look at them." Rowena whispered to the men. "They're so cute."

"Yeah," Dean nodded. "They are."

.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-

Tag List: @mila-dans @blairrrose

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ajaxctrl · 4 years

Text

static space lover — oikawa tooru [the kissing booth reference]

track 01: helena beat

A/n: I'm planning to mix in with a little more written parts since writing is fun as well haha. The socmed part will kick in soon!

Hi. The name's y/n l/n. Classic run-of-the-mill partially pretty junior high schooler who apparently is one of those from the 'normal' section of high school popularity. Fairly normal life. Fairly normal group of friends — ah, how about I rephrase that one? Moderately normal group of friends. Yup. That sounds about right.

I'm best best friends with your resident blond, Atsumu Miya, basically since diapers. Same interests. Same amount of brain cells. Same foolish agenda. We have matching nintendo switches. We have matching marvel jerseys. Our families are like one and two. We were inseparable.

He's my go-to person. Partner in crime? Nah, far too cliche for my liking. He's probably the only jerk I could stand. And...here goes his twin, aka Atsumu Miya with a brain, Osamu. If our friendship is in question, we aren't that 'intimate' safe to say. More like acquaintances divided between a distinct gray line — maybe because Osamu Miya is far too close with a certain Oikawa Tooru — their older step brother. By 'close', I mean 'dissing Atsumu and y/n from a corner' close.

Oikawa Tooru. If one were to give me the chance to describe this idiot...I'd answer handsome right away beyond doubt. That is, if my hormones were speaking for me. But all in all, Tooru is just an evil, conniving jerk who would slam a volleyball right at your face if you even so much as think as pissing him off. Keyword: think.

Jokes on you. This jerk has been my childhood crush ever since and I'm not even denying it. Sucks to be me alright. But anyhow, life seems fine and is going pretty smoothly. No setbacks nor heavy burdens so far—

Yeah, about that, it seemed like fate jinxed it.

"Why the fuck do these stupid slacks need to rip out exactly when I don't need them to! Ugh! Kill me already!"

Growing bit by bit isn't exactly my strong suit. First year fresh from middle school then to my last year in junior high — wow, girls indeed grow the most speedy. Right. Then here are my fresh black slacks tearing off out of my butt on my very first day after summer break. And the only back-ups I got are ones from my first year.

Fate has favorites and I'm not on the list.

"Jesus, y/n, really?" Atsumu, in all his annoying glory, flashed his default hideously smug smirk as he grips on his tesla's steering wheel.

"What? My slacks ripped! You wanna stare at my strawberry cheesecake undies all day, Miya?" In a slightly irritated look, I challenged.

"What about your back ups?"

"These are my back ups!"

Stockman High, unlike y/n l/n, isn't your dime a dozen high school. It isn't one of those academic-centered high schools all about elitism and educational pressure. I, for one, can say that Stockman is particularly like those from your usual netflix teenage romance trope — it's fun.

"If the last season of How to Get Away with Murder doesn't come out this month, I will and I swear, cancel my netflix subscription right off the bat."

"As if. Alex Strangelove is far too temptin' for ya. Ya ain't gonna survive a day without netflix."

"Try me, 'Tsumu!"

"Yeah yeah. Hop out already!"

Today seemed pretty normal. Your conventional high school post-summer break day at Stockman with no troubles so far.

"What in the world — is that y/n l/n?"

"Oh my god, you go girl."

"What is she? From middle school?"

Why the fuck does this have to happen now.

"Tsumu! Why is everyone — and if I say everyone, I mean the whole Stockman High populace, is looking at us like we grew out a second head???"

"If ya say 'us', it's particularly just you, y/n. Nice ass."

"Fuck you. Come behind me 'Tsumu! I hate it here."

"Hmm. Gladly."

Basically everyone's eyes were ogling at me and it's probably too early to say that post-summer break is doing 'fine' 'with no troubles'. At least I attached a 'so far' at the very end, regarded as certain.

How could this day get any worse? Not so much, right?

"Terushima! What the hell?!"

Great. The other blond jerk from the football team just touched my butt. Really great.

"Just measured your bum size, y/n. No hard feeli—"

And so chaos ensues. "Yuuji. I swear to god you say another fucking word I'll bust your face right this instant." Atsumu fitfully challenges with pride and glory. Anger seething from his core

I gripped on his arm, attempting to stop the trade of punches from getting any more catastrophic, and yet...fate really had favorites. y/n l/n, unfortunately but not surprisingly, is not one of them.

Oikawa fucking Tooru just had to butt in throwing his stupid ball at Terushima Yuuji. Hitting the blond with force stronger than what shall we believe constitutes the highest degree of 'strong'. And that added salt to injury.

"Tooru! No! No! It's alright! You can stop now!"

Yet nada, he wasn't listening. He beat the guy to a pulp. Lip busted violet beat, almond orbs almost unobtrusive. Tooru just beat Yuuji like how he hits his killer serves and it terrifies me to no end.

"Why does my brother always have t'make a hideous example for the citizens of America..." Says Atsumu.

I strained to grab Tooru's shoulders and pull him away but he was to fixated on landing a punch on the other guy, it deemed as if the very world around him faded like canvas.

"Yes, alright Oikawa, that's enough. Get off of Terushima. We have a long day ahead of us." Very early, the principal butted in at last minute, fortunately snapping Tooru from his punching spree and violent daze. "You three! My office!"

"Why do I have to go!?"

Great. No troubles so far alright.

"Great going Tooru, fantastic." I rolled my eyes, flashing him one last glare before I close my [eye color] orbs in immediate stress, not the slightest bit amused of the events unfolding right this very day.

"No one has the right to treat girls like that, y/n. Especially if that girl has to be you." Tooru mumbled under his breath, pouting as he fiddles with his phone, the senior high school uniform polo almost dry from faint sweat.

If that girl has to be you. All in good time, on the face of it, there is no good time, Tooru's eyes see me as his little sister. Nothing more nothing less. Just his baby sister. The plus one in the family tree. His normal childhood acquaintance.

"Really, Tooru? Me?"

Our eyes met. His molten chocolate ones falling on mine. His plump lips folded into a thin line. Sweat trickling down his forehead. Finally, the words I've expected for years come rolling out from his tongue. "Yeah. You're my little sister after all." And so he threw his head back upfront. Not caring for the slightest.

"Afraid so." I heaved out a sigh. Disappointed mood cascading my gut.

"Y'know, y/n-chan~ if you didn't just wear that skirt right now, we shouldn't be having this conversation."

I can't believe this guy. "Really Tooru? You're going beyond that line?"

He ran a hand through his hair, moaning in disbelief as he then pinched the bridge of his nose. "Just wrap my jacket around your waist for the whole day, y/n. Don't fight me."

Huh. Oikawa Tooru isn't that bad.

Masterlist | Previous • next.

— HERE COMES your generic high school sweethearts tale wherein y/n has to deal with her prolonged admiration for a certain oikawa tooru — who apparently is her childhood crush since diapers. so the story goes, atsumu miya, tooru's stepbrother, has every say in it.

TAGLIST: (send an ask)

@virtualshoujoanimeartmaker @weisztineo @ccccprej-blog @kiralovesyoongi @elesiatargaryen2 @elsword-euronoia @athenabelserion @tsukishukkie @danariceelliot @malariatyrell @miravonzachary @minaminapark @missusmustang @dimariashermes @moonprismpowerfilo @chichikagari @reinayamamoto @starstruckshouyou @denkiyeee @roaringcrows

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