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pocketfulofrogers · 3 years

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Everything Comes Back to You

Pairing: Dean Winchester x Reader

Summary: Dean can count on one hand the amount of weaknesses he has. Despite his every effort to keep his distance over the years in an effort to keep you safe, he find himself at your door a few too many times. Everything changes when it you who calls him.

Notes: My first supernatural piece! A story told through many years.

September 14, 1996

There were few things you despised more in this world than calculus. The lecture had drug on and on, monotone and continuous, until you felt like you could scream. A miracle of reprieve came when the door opened and in walked a boy who seemed to glide on charisma. He made some kind of offhand joke and flashed a smirk that had half the girls already in his palm.

For you, it was what you saw in his eyes that drew you to him. Something akin to the pieces you kept buried deep within you.

December 22, 1996

You’re sweet, unbelievably so. The way you taste, the way you sound, the way you feel. It’s so easy for Dean to bury himself in you, forget about everything that isn’t in this bed. You had been the solace he didn’t know he had been searching for- offering just a few moments of peace in this life he had no say in.

Most days he believes you may be the light that will save him, other days he believes it unfair to ask such a thing of you.

You nuzzle into his chest and his arms around you tighten. “What are you thinking about?” You ask.

Maybe it’s how tired he is, running between the motel to check on Sammy and darting straight back to the comforts of this bedroom that has him feeling so unnaturally mushy. You’d say it’s the Christmas spirit looming in the air, threatening to infect him with just a bit of joy.

You did love Christmas, and he loved you.

But love was not something he was allowed in this life - stability never something he’d known. Dean knew the drill all too well. The moment he allows himself to plant any semblance of roots, it’ll be time to load the Impala and disappear. Kansas may have been home once, but it isn’t home now.

Still, he couldn’t help himself when it came to you.

Sometimes his mind wonders to what his life could be if he were to just ask you to run away with him. Leave this little town and never look back. No more hunting, no more fighting, just wonderful, uncomplicated, boring life. Life with you.

He’s never met a hunter that’s successfully left the life, though. The longer you knew him, the higher the chances got for you to get caught in the crossfire and he’d never forgive himself if something were to happen to you.

You’re silently watching him, waiting for a response to a question he had already forgotten.

“I should go check on Sam.”

April 18, 2002

“You gave my address to who? Mom, just because someone says they knew me doesn’t mean you should tell them where I live! It doesn’t matter if he seemed like a ‘wonderful young man’ you know there are things out there.” You’re pacing in your living room now, tempted to grab your shotgun.

“Oh, Y/N, stop it with that nonsense. He had a photo of you and now he’s on his way.” Your mother dismisses you.

You groan and toss your head back. “Well hopefully you can describe what he looked like to the cops when they find me-“

Then a car pulls up, engine roaring and rock music blasting. You knew that car, you knew it well. Sneaking up to the window, you take a peek around the curtains and see the sleek black Impala. A man gets out, the leather jacket he’s wearing tickles a memory long buried.

It isn’t until you see his face that it settles in- butterflies swimming in deep rooted anger. The boy who left you with nothing but an aching hole and a postcard with no return address was all grown up and damn if he didn’t look good.

“Gotta go.” You hang up the phone.

When he knocks, you brace yourself- scrounge up all the will-power you have so you can kick him out. There will be no apologies or pleasantries. No sir. None. Not one.

But Dean’s always been one step ahead of you, so, he’s quick to start when you open the door- death glare only momentarily stalling him. “Listen, I know-“

“Get back in your car and go home.”

“Just hear me out for a minute.” He pleads.

You want to tell him to go, you really do, but one glance at those green eyes and every fiber of your being is pleading for you to just wait. Call it hope, call it weakness, call it a desperate need for some form of closure, you let him in.

Narrowing your eyes, you ask him, “Why are you here?”

“I wanted to see you.”

You hate how that almost settles your anger, how after all these years he still had some ridiculous hold on you. “How can you possibly believe I would want to see you after what you did? That kind of hurt doesn’t just disappear, Dean.”

“I know, I know. I’m also here to apologize. I should have said more-“

“More?” You interrupt exasperated. “Please tell me you did not come all this way to ask me to absolve you of your guilt.”

“That’s not-“

“Because you showed up on my doorstep, asked me to pack a bag and run away with you- leave my life and everything I’ve ever known to go who knows where with you. And then, when the sun rose in the morning, you were gone.”

“You hadn’t exactly been happy with me.” He tries to defend himself.

“Yeah, but you know what I did that night? I packed a stupid bag and waited for hours in front of that stupid diner. Waiting and waiting, but you never showed! You just left me! Know what I got out of it? A postcard from Topeka with a half assed ‘I’m sorry’ written on it.”

He falters under your gaze. “Y/N, I am sorry. I really am.”

“I just want to know why, Dean.” Your voice falls and he can no longer meet your eyes. “Come on, there are a million excuses. You couldn’t leave Sam, you couldn’t leave you dad, you didn’t actually love me. Just pick one so I can move on.”

“I did love you.” He bites back.

“Then what, you couldn’t leave the life?”

His eyebrows furrow as he takes a step closer and lowers his voice. “What do you mean?”

You sigh. “I was young but I wasn’t stupid. The family business wasn’t sales, Dean.” His eyes widen. “People started disappearing right before you and your family showed up. They stop disappearing and then all of a sudden, you’re gone. I had my suspicions, but it wasn’t until I met another hunter a few years later that I knew for sure.”

He makes his way into your living room and you want to ask what gave him the idea that you wanted him in your home.

“If you know about that side of this world, then how can you blame me for wanting to protect you from it?”

Of all of the reasons you had come up with as to why the boy you thought was the love of your life had left you high and dry, this wasn’t one. Had he truly loved you? Had he weighed his heart and your life to determine which he valued most? You can’t tell if that idea hurt more than the rest.

“Who were you to make that decision for me?”

“Who are you to expect me not to have?”

It’s quiet, uncomfortably so. Dean rakes his fingers through his hair and your arms tighten across your chest. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. None of it. He wasn’t supposed to have left you destroyed, calling out for him in the middle of the night. You were supposed to have moved on, supposed to have said goodbye to the boy with so much sadness in his eyes and so much love in his heart.

You never really do forget your first, though, do you?

He sighs, drawing your attention back to him, and pulls his gaze from the ceiling. “This isn’t what I came for.”

You tighten your arms across your chest and take a step closer, then another. “Do enlighten me, then. What are you really here for?” You’re dangerously close now, a breath away and Dean can barely think. “What is it you want?”

You look up at him and in a second he’s gone, just like that first day. It’s nostalgic and painful and warm all at once. How was it you still had this power over him?

“You.” He breathes out.

October 14, 2006

“Hey, uh, Fairmont? That’s close to Eudora, right?” Dean asks, trying so hard to seem casual.

Sam peaks around the bathroom door, noticing his brother has been ‘cleaning’ the same weapon for the last thirty minutes, and raises a brow. “Yeah, not too far.” Dean just hums. “What’s in Eudora?”

“Huh? Oh nothing, just thought a detour would be nice with everything going on.”

Sam spits his toothpaste into the sink. “Didn’t we spend a Christmas there?”

Dean stalls. “Well, you know, we moved around so much it’s hard to tell when we were anywhere, really. I couldn’t-“

“No, no, I’m sure we did. I had that English teacher that snored through Shakespeare.”

“Your memory is definitely better than mine, I couldn’t tell you much about-“

“And there was that girl, gosh, what was her name again?” Sam prompts his brother, already knowing the answer.

“There’s been so many girls, Sam, can’t expect me to remember all of their names.” Dean chuckles nervously.

The flop sweat on Dean’s forehead is almost reward enough, but hearing him sputter and flail was just too good for Sam to give up.

“She had the hair and the mom, liked Christmas.” Dean stutters again. “Oh right! Y/N! Aka the girl who’s name you say in your sleep on a weekly basis.” Now he’s red. “How long has it been man? If you could’ve made it work, you would’ve. What’d she say when you saw her last?”

Suddenly the floor is very interesting to Dean. “That I can’t keep coming in and out of her life.”

“That’s all the closure you’re going to get, Dean, take it.”

October 18, 2006

Work had been the worst. The only thing you wanted was a bubble bath and a huge glass of wine. The last thing you expected when you finally reached your driveway was Dean Winchester sitting on your porch, but of course, with the cluster fuck of today, this might as well happen.

You take a moment to collect yourself before stepping out of your car.

“Heard you took down a Rougarou in Tennessee. Thought you said you didn’t want a part of this life.” He raises a brow and you can’t tell if it’s an accusation or an ‘I told you so’ moment.

“Was there for business, it was just good timing. Guess you were right, though, can’t just sit by.” You shrug. He looks like he’s waiting for something, something you’re sure you can’t give him. “What are you doing here?” You ask, sounding more tired than upset.

“I know, I’m sorry. But we had a case nearby and Sammy told me no, but next thing I know I’m in my car and then I’m here. Really, it’s your fault. Should’ve moved.”

You snort. “And you wouldn’t have found me?” He only shrugs. “What is it you want, Dean?”

“A friend?”

“You drove all the way out here for a friend?”

“Guess you could say I’m in short supply.”

You look him up and down, noticing the bags beneath his eyes and something in you aches for him. Of course, you had heard about the passing of John, that may be the very reason he’s here, but knowing Dean, it’s not a subject he wants to touch.

Ten years later and you can still read him.

“Fine, but don’t ask me to run away with you.” You tease. “Twice is enough for this lifetime.”

June 16, 2013

Dean is in the middle of another argument with Sam trying to defend the importance of bacon when his phone rings. Sam’s dramatic sigh of relief earns an eye roll from his brother.

“Dean Winchester.” He answers, but he can’t hear anything on the other end. “Hello?” He tries again and this time he makes out heavy breathing. “Who is this?”

“Dean.” His name barely slips from your lips and to his ears before you groan.

He leans forward quick enough to earn concern from Sam. “Where are you?”

“Sound stressed.” You chuckle before sputtering.

“Y/N, tell me where are you.” His voice is the kind of calm that would usually send ice through your veins, but right now you were struggling just to keep your eyes open.

“Not sure.” Your speech is slurred and the panic Sam sees in his brother’s eyes drives his fingers faster as he works on a trace.

“How bad is it?”

“You should see the other guy.”

“Dammit, Y/N, not the time. Where are you hurt?”

“Broken ribs, I think. This gash in my side seems a little alarming.” You squint down at it trying to determine if your blurry vision was a result of the gapping wound or the nice blow to the head you took. “Objectively, all very bad.” You mumble.

Dean is over Sam’s shoulder now and if he hadn’t looked as terrified as he did right now, Sam would be making a less than funny comment about it.

“Were you on a hunt?” His voice is still cool, but he begins to waiver when he has to strain to hear your confirmation. “Is it still after you?” He has to press the question two more times before he gets a response, by then he’s already started the Impala.

“Finished him ‘for he finished me.”

“Y/N, were on our way.” Dean grits out. “You just hold on a little longer and we’ll get you all patched up.”

You barely manage to hum response before everything begins to fade out, Dean yelling your name in the background.

June 17, 2013

They had only barely made it in time. Dean had come sliding to your side, bandages already in hand. He spoke softly to you, a drastic contradiction to the frantic shake of his hands.

Sam had never seen his brother like this before.

“Dean, I don’t think…”

“No! Just,” Dean tossed the keys to Sam and slipped his arms beneath your limp body. “Get us to the nearest hospital.”

He sat in the back seat with you holding as much pressure against the flaps of skin as he could, still talking so softly to you. Sam’s heart ached as he heard his brother beg you not to leave him and make promises they both know he can’t keep.

When he could no longer feel you breathing, his eyes shot up to the review mirror and Sam slammed on the gas.

Squealing into the ambulance drop off, Sam began to yell for help as he pulled open the back seat door. Dean was frozen, all of the color drained from his face.

Emotion cut off from his voice, he had barely managed a whisper. “I think she’s gone.”

From there, he had spent the last six hours trying to force himself to come to terms with the fact that he had lost one of the only good things in his life. Sitting there in some criminally uncomfortable waiting room chair with his head in his hands.

All he could see was you. You twirling around in a bright sundress with the Kansas sunset kissing your skin. Your eyes closed- lips parted slightly as you slept soundly. You angry, red in the face accusing him of using you as some kind of sick tie to a simpler time.

Was that all she was to him? No, he shakes his head at just the thought of it. To him you were the only thing that made sense. A singular constant that he felt like his whole being revolved around.

But he had never told you.

Finally, by 5am he had almost convinced himself that he would be fine.

So, when the doctor comes out with blood speckling the bottom of his scrubs, he wants to shut down, but he needs to know.

“Just give it to us straight, doc.”

“She’s alive.” He says. “The surgery was tough and she gave us quite a scare, but she is alive.”

His knees almost give out from beneath him.

June 20, 2013

Everything hurts. Your side, your chest, your head, your skin. The gentle breeze from the vent above you is what pulls you out of the darkness. The harsh fluorescent lights are almost enough to send you right back to the comfort of the dark, but a shifting pressure at your thigh piques your interest.

Slowly, trying not to groan despite every muscle in your body screaming, you look to your left. Dean’s arm is draped lightly across the tops of your thighs, his hand curling in at your hip. For a moment you do nothing but watch him sleep, his eyes fluttering behind his eyelids every so often.

He looks like shit.

Dark, sunken bags have built up beneath his eyes and it looks like he hasn’t shaved in days. A part of you feels flattered imagining the fuss he had to have made to not only get you here, but to stay here himself.

Without thinking, you begin to move your hand to caress his cheek. Your fingers trace the lines of his now furrowed brow before you thread them through his hair. The movement hurts, but it’s worth it.

Especially when you’re rewarded with a lovely green as his eyes slowly open. For a moment you think there may be no yelling or ‘are you out of your mind’ speeches when a smile begins to slowly light up his face. And then, as if he’s suddenly remembered what has happened, his smile shuts down into a scowl.

“You almost died.” He hisses lowly.

“Almost.” You echo and try to cough out a laugh, but it devolves into a groan. His alarm doesn’t disappear when you try to wave him off. “I’m fine now, so why don’t you go shower or something? You smell.”

“So you can try to slip out?” He narrows his eyes at you. “Not happening.”

“You’re usually the one that slips out.” You mutter, but he doesn’t hear you. “You can’t kidnap me, Dean.”

“The hell I can’t.”

June 23, 2013

“Bedroom here, bathroom down there. Sam and I are here… and here.” Dean’s pointing to doors as you struggle to hobble behind him on his tour of the bunker. When he stops, you almost run into his back. “Sammy went to grab some stuff from your house, but it looks like you don’t live there anymore.” He only raises a brow when you advert your gaze.

Instead of responding, you turn around to point at a door a couple down. “Mine? Sounds good.” You scurry as quickly as you can into the room, but Dean catches the edge of the door before you can shut it.

“You’re not going to explain yourself?”

You laugh bitterly. “Explain myself? Are you kidding me? I don’t answer to you, Dean.”

“You know that’s not what I meant.” You want to turn away from him, but he’s holding your gaze too intensely. “What’s going on with you? You’re living out of cheap hotels and hunting on your own now?”

“Oh, that’s rich coming from you.”

“Y/N, cut the shit. It’s just you and me here. Have you even told your mom what happened?”

And it’s this comment, this sincere question that takes the final piece of your resistance from him. He watches as the tense set of your shoulders fall and your face relaxes. The malice and resentment slips from your features and it’s a relief.

“She’s dead.” You barely manage to whisper. “Vetala. Didn’t know they worked in pairs. Her husband found her tied up in the kitchen three years ago.”

He’s stunned. It’s probably the only thing you could have said that would steal his fire in an instant. He knew that kind of pain, that kind of drive. He knew it too well. You sniffle before quickly wiping your eyes and his face falls imagining the pain you’re feeling.

To his surprise, the moment is gone as quick as it started when he watches you swallow down your emotions and rebuild that wall in almost an instant.

“Don’t worry, I know you’re not one to be domestic. I’ll be out of your hair the second the doctors clear me.”

It stings. “Just like that?” He asks, not caring this time if you hear the hurt in his voice.

“Why would I stay? You make it clear what you want each time you stop by my house for a quicky and then slip out without a word.” The stunned look on his face is infuriating. “I get it, Dean. It’s convenience and consistency. Not love.”

“Not love?” He repeats your judgement, rolling the word around his tongue and he has to admit he hates the taste. He repeats it again, louder this time and it startles you. “Y/N I gave up everything I ever wanted that night I left you at the diner because I love you. I have tried and tried to stay as far away from you to keep you safe because I love you. I show up on your doorstep in moments of selfish cowardice because I can’t stay away! Almost my whole life I have been drawn to you time and time again and I know it hurts you. It kills me to hurt you, but I can’t stop because I love you.”

Dean’s chest is heaving, his breath falling across your face with how close he is to you now. “You love me.” He has to strain to hear you, but you need the clarification. Love or loved?

“When I saw you laying on the ground, bleeding out, I wished it was me instead. But when I held you in my arms and you…” His voice breaks and his eyes water. “And you stopped breathing…”

Before you know what you’re doing, you have your hands cradling either side of his facing, soothingly hushing him.

“Dean.” You murmur. “I’m okay, you saved me.”

“Stay.” The word bursts through his lips without his control. “Please, just stay.”

A single tear falls from your eyes as you nod knowing that the idea of a place called home had changed over the years, but this, him- he had always remained.

#dean winchester #dean winchester imagine #dean winchester fanfic #dean winchester x reader #supernatural #supernatural imagine #supernatural fanfic

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anika-ann · 4 years

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The Fall Tale (S.R.)

(Of Fallen Leaves and Falling Dames)

Pairing: Steve Rogers x fem!reader Word Count: 3400

Summary:

You just wanted to take advantage of the joy that the fall provides. You just wanted to be silly for a bit, let go of the adulting and feel as carefree as a kid again.

It gets enormously out of hand, but you find yourself unable to complain at the turn of events.

Prompt: one involving the fall, colourful leaves and a meet-cute (full prompt at the end of the fic as to not spoil the plot)

Warnings: swearing and tooth-rotting fluff (no really, it’s dripping sweetness as a damn maple sirup)… kids involved, not reader’s

A/N: For wonderlandmind4 challenge. Thanks for letting me participate in such awesome challenge! I adore this prompt! I hope you’ll get many sweet followers and that you’ll enjoy the submitted fics!

A/N 2: the lovely fall devider by firefly-graphics

The air was crisp, almost biting against our skin, but for the first time in a while, you didn’t mind one bit – even if your outfit was clueing otherwise.

The last October week was an unpleasant thing for multiple reasons, but the weather really was the cherry on top of your bittersweet cake; saying that was you being dramatic as hell, the past few days had only required of you to run many many adult errands, but still.

The gloomy morning fog that often lingered, overstaying its welcome, the cold wind and the absence of sun was beginning to take its toll on you, painfully reminding that the ‘sweater weather’, better-known to you as the ‘witch-bitch autumn time’, had long chased Indian summer away. You hated this kind of weather.

Colourful leaves, sun seeping through the clouds, playing with the vivid yellow, orange, red and remaining green in the treetops? God bless.

The kind of weather which this week graced you with, more or less requiring to keep your mouth covered with a scarf when going out? No, nope sire, shove it.

Today, however, a small miracle occurred; despite the yucky morning drizzle and downright icy wind, sunrays found their way through the clouds, illuminating you path as you had decided to reward yourself for the boring adulting-filled morning you pushed through.

The park was mostly quiet, the majority of New York City citizens clearly discouraged by the slick traps of mud and fallen leaves and the reluctant rise of temperature. Walking in the alley lined with maples and oaks felt like a dream, the uneasy feeling, tied to the many responsibilities to your person, that had been clutching at your gut subdued, the weight falling from your shoulders and allowing you to breathe in. Smile even grazed your lips as you spotted a dark-skinned man practically serving like a jungle gym to two kids, whose laughter was brought to you by the wind.

God, you wished to be a kid just for a moment again! (And the opportunity to climb that broad-shouldered man was only a part of the reason.)

You snickered under your breath, your gaze moving on—and falling onto a pile of fallen and neatly raked leaves by an old oak roughly three hundred feet from you.

Your smile widened. Someone from above was clearly sending you a signal and a wordless approval of your need for some child-like behaviour – because damn, was there anything more childish that wanting jump right into those leaves?

Your mind helpfully supplied you with an image of kids stomping into a puddle and jumping in that muddy mess and you came to conclusion that there were worse things you could do. Laundry day was ahead anyway.

With one goal ahead, chanting that you deserved a break from adulting, you quickened your pace and approached the pile with determination. You spun around, chuckling to yourself and trying hard not to think about the poor person who had worked on raking the leaves so hard, you spread your arms wide, closed your eyes in bliss and let yourself fall to the soft natural bedding.

The collision with something hard came sooner than expected, causing a startled yelp erupt from your throat – mostly because the mass your body met with moved and grunted.

You quickly spun away, literally falling on your ass when you tried to stand up again. A head peeked out from the pile of colourful leaves, followed by impossibly large frame of a man sitting up.

You sat there with our mouth open in mute awe, heart pounding in your chest, head spinning from both the shock and abrupt movements.

Still, you had enough wits to notice two things.

One, the man was gorgeous. Blond hair slightly ruffled by the wind and his previous hideout, startlingly bright blue eyes framed by unfairly thick and long eyelashes, plush lips, sharp jaw—and gosh, you didn’t think you had even seen shoulders so broad and arms begging to be wrapped in so prominently.

Two, the man, obviously, had leaves in his hair, a tiny smidge of mud on his cheek, his clothes, while rather fine and as if stolen from a sports catalogue, damp and little dirty; and he was frowning at you. And kinda gaping. Probably hurting too – the impact for you had been unpleasant, but it must have seriously hurt him.

And yet, instead of apologizing to him for this absurd situation, a whole different sentence left your lips as you were still seated on your ass on the wet ground, palms supporting you on your sides.

“What the hell are you doing here, hiding in a pile of leaves?!” you shrieked, the high-pitched sound as embarrassing as your reaction. You gulped when the real-life Adonis in front of you grimaced, cleaning himself of some of the leaves stuck in his hair. Your fingers might have twitched in urge to help him, but your mind went entirely elsewhere, another thing occurring to you. “Could you even breathe in there?!”

Clearly, he could, since he was perfectly fine.

Bravo, you genius, why couldn’t you figure that out before asking such a stupid question?

He stared at you for another moment too long, apparently as taken aback by the situation at hand as you were… and then he chuckled, his hand scratching the back of his neck sheepishly.

“Eh, yeah, I could. And I was… uhm-“ he beckoned to the trio you had noticed earlier, the man who was probably babysitting for a friend, and you let out a silent oh as a victorious yell carried through the park “-playing hide and seek. Are you okay?”

The question was so softly spoken, a timid smile creeping to his lips and your heart melted an instant, laughter bubbling in your chest at the ridiculous predicament you found yourself in.

Talk about an embarrassing meet-cute with the most beautiful (yes, beautiful) man you could ever imagine. What else could you do but laugh… and perhaps fall in love a bit? You had jumped at him and he was asking if you were okay.

“Yeah, I’m okay,” you assured him, returning the smile, not any less sheepish. His eyes lit up even more and your heart, finally slowing down a bit, started racing again. You must have hit your head and now you were making this guy up, right? There was no way a man like this actually walked the Earth. “Are you though?”

One corner of his lips rose higher as he climbed to his feet, dusting off his palms as much as he could, and gentlemanly offered you a hand to help you stand up. You could swoon at that moment.

“Worse things happened to me than having a pretty woman land on me.”

Uhh, a smooth talker when he wanted to be. Would you look at that.

You accepted his hand just for the sheer indulgence and to make sure you actually hadn’t imagined him, because this--- this specimen was talking to you and flirting with you. Doubting his existence was only natural.

His calloused palm tugged you up gently with barely any effort, the warmth of his skin seeping into yours and you had to force yourself to let go.

“Well, I’m glad. And uhm… I’m sorry. I really didn’t expect to--eh, you know,” you gestured awkwardly between him and the messed-up pile in a place of an explanation. He only shook his head, his eyes never leaving yours, a spark of laughter in them. “Question still stands though. Why would you hide here of all places? Kids love jumping into these.”

His eyebrows shot up and he chuckled, looking you up from head to toe. You felt a rush of blood warming your cheeks when you realized what a dishevelled picture you must have made and you self-consciously dusted off your clothes as if it had any effect.

“And yet it was you who jumped. Interesting,” he mused in a teasing manner, with no malice in his voice as he called you out on your child-like antics.

You pressed your lips into a thin line, grinning self-depreciatingly. You had totally walked into that one.

“I-uhm… I have a young soul…?”

The god amongst men huffed a laugh, the corners of his eyes crinkling and fuck, you really were falling hard by the second. He was—no words existed in English language to describe what a looker and charmer he was. The infamous butterflies flipped their wings wildly in your stomach, the slight embarrassment, while lingering, you barely acknowledged when the man laughed at your joke.

A sudden movement to your right startled you along with a heavy thud of feet and you yelped for the second time that afternoon, instinctively jumping away; your feet slipped on the wet ground and you prepared yourself for an unwanted meeting with the ground-

Only to land in Steve’s arms, curling around you protectively, sending your heart plummeting on the park floor – both in fright and dizziness, because shit he was warm and strong and over the natural scent of the park that lingered on his clothes, you got a whiff of his cologne and detergent and whatever and gosh, he smelled so good too. And his face was now in dangerous proximity and his beaty was even more startling up close and you could die a happy woman right here.

You found yourself so intoxicated that it took you a while to follow his gaze to the source of your current predicament; another man, just as ridiculously fit (what the hell was happening today, first the kid guy, then the charming blondie and now this brunet), with a shit-eating grin on his lips.

“Is all good, dollface. Steve here is an old soul, you’ll make a perfect match,” the man hummed as a thumping of several pair of feet shook the ground, announcing the incoming trio, still too far to overhear your absurd conversation.

The cheekiness of the newcomer and the fact he had just dropped from a freakin’ tree only to land right next to you would be annoying if he hadn’t just called you a good match to Steve and hadn’t finally reveal your handsome stranger’s name.

Steve.

He kinda looked like a Steve.

Steve sighed, sounding bone-tired because of his friend’s attitude. “Dammit, Bucky. Give the dame here a heart-attack, why don’t you?”

Dame?

“Got her in your arms, didn’t it?” Bucky retorted nonchalantly and as if in slow motion, Steve glanced down at you as he held you securely to his frame, appearing to realize your proximity for the first time. He swiftly helped you to find your footing for the second time that day and let go, causing you miss his warmth in an instant. “Hey there. This was so funny to watch that I forgive you for compromising our positions.”

Your cheeks felt like on fire again.

Sadly, you didn’t get a chance to come up a snarky remark as the ‘seekers’ finally reached you with booming laughter.

“We found you, Uncle Steve! And Uncle Bucky! Do we get the hot chocolate?” the girl around eight years old asked excitedly as she grabbed Steve’s arm and tugged on it as if she already wanted him to lead the way towards what you assumed was the promised sweet treat.

Truth to be told, your heart might have skipped a beat in relief upon learning that your new flirty buddy wasn’t the father. Also, you almost swooned, again, when he scooped the girl to his arms – correction, arm – and booped the girl’s nose, making her giggle. The image pulled at your heartstrings and you didn’t even bother analysing the fact that you felt such intense emotions after barely meeting the guy.

“Of course we do, Lila! They promised!” the boy, of whom you guessed was maybe two years younger, stated as if it was clear as day. Then, he swiftly took advantage of his new tree to climb – Bucky.

The man whom you seen earlier with them huffed.

“Not sure if it’s a good idea to feed them more sugar,” he questioned, sceptical. Then he turned to you, flashing you a smile that seemed kind despite his next words. “Hi. Thanks for your tremendous help. You sentenced us to an afternoon with sugar-fuelled monsters.”

Your eyebrows rose at such accusation, challenging, as you were not about to take the blame.

“Pretty sure you did that when you agreed to babysit.”

“Okay, that’s a fair point, I suppose.”

“It is,” you sassed him back.

Despite that, you couldn’t but make an offer. Not because you felt too guilty for ‘compromising Steve’s position’ – but because you couldn’t pass at the potential opportunity to spend more time with th--- yeah, mainly with Steve, who were you kidding. Though they all seemed like a funny bunch.

Yet, you eyed Steve as you worried your teeth over your lower lip. “However, since you’ve been made because of me, I might treat you guys a coffee? In a café that won’t kick us out despite the state of our clothes?”

Steve’s eyes met yours and even if he was beat to speaking by Lila, you could tell that he liked the proposition. Whether it was because of an intense coffee craving or liking the idea of not parting ways with you yet (he had been flirting!), you couldn’t tell.

You hoped for the latter.

“Yes! The nice lady will buy coffee for you grown-ups and we get a hot chocolate! Yay!”

All the grown-ups couldn’t but smile at the girl’s enthusiasm.

“Well, the nice lady needs to know that she doesn’t have to do that. But I could use some caffeine,” Steve said politely, a twinkle of mischief in his eye. “But we all know we shouldn’t let a stranger walk us to god-knows-where, don’t we? No matter how pretty they are. Does the nice lady have a name?”

Ah, the smooth talked was back. And if Bucky’s and the other man’s smirks were anything to go by (or the look they exchanged for that matter), they were both amused and impressed by his flirting skills.

You introduced yourself then, shaking hands with Lila and her brother Cooper’s hand, followed by Bucky’s (with some difficultees as he was a bit occupied with the climbing Cooper) and then Sam’s. Steve shifted Lila from one arm to the other, just like that-- Jesus he was strong, and shook your hand as well, his touch lingering a little.

You certainly didn’t complain.

“It’s settled then. Lead the way,” Sam beckoned to you, before he stared down the two youngsters. “And you, down, you were full of energy a minute ago, you can walk just fine without these two carrying you.”

“Yes, Uncle Sam,” sounded unison from the kids, and you snicked, a picture of a leaflet asking men to join the army flickering in front of your eyes at the addressing.

Looking back, it should have dawn to you right then. Hell, you even considered that they might have all been a part of some law enforcement, or maybe firefighters, judging by their built, but the obvious didn’t occur to you; not until you reached the café and got questioned by your friend about when you had adopted three Avengers and two kids.

You stopped dead in your tracks upon Jill’s exclamation, your whole body freezing – including your brain.

Steve.

Bucky.

Sam.

Their ridiculously ripped bodies. Steve being an old soul, for Christ’s sake!

Oh no.

The air was tense for several seconds as you reconciled with the fact that you had had found yourself landing on Captain America twice today and that you had met the Falcon and the Winter Soldier while they were babysitting of all things.

“Pretty sure that now we’ve been made,” Sam uttered, causing you break from your trance. To your own surprise, a half-insane chuckle erupted from our throat, the sound being just another reason to hide your face in your palms, wishing for the floor to swallow you. The cheek you showed to damn superheroes! “Well, it was fun while it lasted and she treated you like the dorks you are.”

Huh?

“Look who’s talking, birdbrain,” Bucky huffed and based on the audio, since you sort of eliminated your visual input by hiding behind your hands, it sounded as if Bucky pulled Sam and the kids away, leaving you and Steve alone by the counter with a swift ‘you know our orders, punk’ thrown over his shoulder.

When Steve didn’t say anything for what felt like an eternity and a half, you spread your fingers so you could peek at him between them; you found him smiling at you patiently, but the twinkle from his eye, the one you had already learned to adore, was gone.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean any disrespect, or-“

Steve – Captain America – shook his head, slowly reaching out to gently grasp your forearms to make you lose the barrier created from your hands. The movement was very slow and easy to spot so you could stop him if you wanted; because of course, he would respect your boundaries, he was a gentleman from the past century. You let him; you gave up to the pressure, but fixed our gaze on the floor, unable to face him fully as he released your arms.

“Hey. No worries. It was actually really nice to be just a weird guy who got jumped on, because he was hiding in a pile of raked leaves,” he admitted kindly and that had you raise your eyes to his again, finding nothing but honesty in his brilliant irises. “It was really nice to think I might have had a shot with a gal like you even being just that guy.”

Your heart fluttered at his words, your breath hitching in hope.

Wait, hold on a second, did that mean—but- certainly you weren’t that lucky, you-

“Uhm… it- it was?” you stuttered, mesmerized by the comeback of the twinkle to his eyes as he smiled wider and nodded. Your pulse skyrocketed, your head spinning for a bit because of what he was implying. He really liked you? “Oh. That’s… he did have a shot for sure. He—uhm, he was pretty charming.”

A shot? Like thousand of them! A million!

You wouldn’t even dare to dream about a guy like Steve being interested in you – he was so out of your league. Showing as much as a mild interest and you’d jump after the chance despite questioning the reality of it all – you kinda wanted to pinch yourself.

If he wanted to give you two a try and see you again… gee, who were you to protest. Already you had been falling for his gorgeous smile and stupidly handsome face… and body. And flirting. And-

He searched your face for a short moment and only then it dawned to you that with the words you used, it might have sounded as if he didn’t have that shot anymore. But he must have understood what you meant from what he read in your expression, because he took a tiny step closer to you.

All of sudden, you found it incredibly hard to breathe, as if your racing heart and spinning head wasn’t dangerous enough; you were almost afraid to breathe in, because if you got another whiff of him, you might jump him right here and now.

Focus.

Steve’s smile was bright as were his eyes, his voice only carrying a trace of self-consciousness as he spoke. “And now? Do I still have it?”

With sudden surge of confidence, your fingers brushed his hand as you glanced at him from under your eyelashes; his smile when you squeezed his hand could power a good part of Manhattan.

“Yeah. I think I’d like him to take me out for coffee or something…” Your gaze flickered to the boot padded with towels, which you got from the friendly owner in order to not let the hide-and-seekers dirty the cushions, and you couldn’t but grin cheekily. “Preferably without four children to babysit.”

Steve reciprocated the squeeze of your hand first and then burst out laughing when you finished, watching you as if you were the greatest and funniest thing that ever happened to him in like a month – which, as far as the humour went, it might have been.

“You got yourself a deal.” And as if you weren’t already halfway in love with him, he raised your still connected hands and landed a brief kiss on the back of yours. “I can’t wait.”

The Winter Tale - sequel

S.R. masterlist

Thank you for reading!

Our fall weather does suck momentarily, so I hope your doesn’t and if it does that this warmed you up a bit.

Full prompt: Jumping into a pile of colourful leaves. Only to accidentally land on a body hiding in the leaves as a stake out or game and now their position is compromised (Fall)

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quirklessidiot · 4 years

Text

Title: tough luck Pairing: GN! Reader x Suna Rintarou [college au] Genre: domestic fluff and my bad comedy (teeny tiny angst if u squint)

Synopsis: “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.” [this request of suna rintarou + fluff ]

Warnings: minor bad language but thats it Notes:

omg i was finally able to write something fluffy yay! Hshdhdhd the mind- after all that angst. I hope yall enjoy this domestic college au suna hakhak where can i get one of these.

im posting three requests per week (its to help writers block and well, my english in general, they’ll be posted on random days) ill probably limit it to one when school starts though sike currently have four more requests to finish aye.

navigation

Thesis papers be damned.

You might as well burn your group mates to the depths of hell for leaving you to dry these past few weeks. They weren’t even replying to your messages tonight and you were having a mock presentation first thing in the morning.

You aggressively started to mix more cake batter after frosting the cupcakes.

“Baby?” a low voice echoes throughout the quietness of the kitchen, your steely gaze snaps to find your half-awake boyfriend standing there in his sleepwear, his raven hair completely a mess, if it were a normal day, you’d coo and snuggle next to your good-looking man and annoy the fuck out of him but no, you just had to be in a bad mood, “It’s four am, what’s with all the sugar overload?”

“I’m celebrating the death of my sleep schedule and my sanity. Want a cupcake, baby?” a sarcastic grin makes its way to your lips and honestly, despite his deadpan features, Suna was very worried. He had been bugging you these past weeks to stop living in coffee and instant noodles so he decided to crash your place tonight to scold you, cook yourself a hot meal, and smother you to sleep with his hugs but it seemed like it didn’t work at all and you just violently wormed your way out of his grasp.

He slowly made his way to you, eyes half-lidded, and grabbed the rubber spatula from your hands and snuggled his head on your shoulders like a kitten, “Sleep, Y/N. It’s not worth to stress over those shits.” his voice was blank as usual but you knew he meant well.

“Well those shits will be my downfall tomorrow if they can’t answer the panel’s questions.” You spat as you cracked the eggs harshly on the batter and snatched back the rubber spatula from his hand, letting out a loud huff as you continued to mix aggressively.

“Y/N…”

Silence.

“Y/N…”

“Fine.” you grumbled, “Just let me-”

“I’ll clean up.” Suna sighs, grabbing the spatula once again from your hands, “Go to sleep, I’ll wake you up at seven am, just in time for your class, right?”

“But i can-”

“Y/N.” Suna narrows his eyes, determined to get the last say between you two.

“Ugh.” You grumbled, shoulders slouched, “six thirty-”

“No, seven am. Your class doesn’t start until nine. You need more rest. No take-backs.”

Giving your boyfriend one last stink-eye, you slowly trudged yourself to the bedroom and just flopped yourself towards the bed. Ah, how bad could this day even get?

You shouldn’t have jinxed it.

You were almost late since the professor had moved the presentation time to eight am, thank god your apartment was near your uni, your boyfriend literally watched you shove the most decent outfit you could find and throw yourself out the door in a hurry. In the midst of the presentation, your stomach started to grumble too since you weren’t able to grab a cracker or your usual bread to go before class.

Even worse, your stink of an eye group mates weren’t able to get their parts right.

You were downright ready to throttle them, thank god that this was just a mock defense.

Your mood doesn’t exactly brighten even after the defense, you sit there and look like those cartoons who had fumes coming out of their ears. After class ended, you decided to bring it up to your professor and he tells you it’s too late to take the names out.

Your mood dampens even more.

Exiting the classroom with a scrunched up feature, you stop to see a very familiar figure standing there holding a brown paper bag and a cup of steaming hot milk on his other.

“Mornin’” Suna quietly greets you as he gives you a light feathery kiss on your cheek.

You blink.

“Shouldn’t you be in class right now?”

“The professor was absent, he had some staff meeting so I decided to get you a bento box and some milk. Try to avoid coffee for the time being.” Suna explains as he transfers the cup of milk to his other hand so that he could hold your hand, “Let’s have breakfast, Y/N. You don’t have class until another hour, right?”

Before you could protest, your boyfriend drags you to the field and under the shade of a large tree to eat the bento he bought.

Suna quietly listens as you rant on about how annoying and how much you want to throttle your good-for-nothing groupmates, occasionally wiping the little crumbs on the side of your cheek, “...You should take it easy.” Suna simply replies after you finish your rant, “You’ll get a cold if you keep this up.”

“My okaasan will definitely let me live in the cold if I fail a class.” You shiver at the mental image of your mother giving you a sermon. Suna just sighs as he fixes up your trash, he could never argue with you.

“Come,” he stands up and holds out his hand for you again, “I’ll walk you to your next class.”

The sun shines brightly yet your day doesn’t get any better, you had a pop quiz on one of your weakest subjects and you couldn’t even finish the readings since you were too preoccupied with your thesis and your groupmates.

You inwardly let out a groan as you made your way to the library, your phone rings and your brows contort in confusion at the name of your boyfriend. “Hello?”

“How’s class?”

“You’re such a miracle worker.” You sighed, “You always know when to call.”

“That bad?”

“Everything just sucks, ah life feel so shitty these days-” You confessed, scratching your head in annoyance.

“Hey.” He cuts you off, voice dead serious, “It’s just a bad day, Y/N. Don’t worry, we all have these days. How many classes do you still have?”

“Just two.” you huffed out, completely frustrated by how bad your day was going.

“Take a deep breath and drink some water, alright? I’ll see you after class, let's walk home and order some takeout then sleep early alright? My class ends the same time as you today.”

“B-But…” You stop protesting, realizing that Suna would shut down the idea. Saying goodbye to your boyfriend, you take in a deep breath and do as he instructed.

Thankfully nothing major happens on the next subject and as you were about to proceed to your last class, Suna texts you that he has some milk bread on your locker and your favorite banana milk. A small smile made its way to your lips, one more subject and this wretched day was over then you’ll get to snuggle next to your boyfriend.

Again, you shouldn’t have jinxed it.

Someone had accidentally spilled the banana milk you were drinking all over your white shirt along with his cup of mocha drink (which thank god was cold because if it wasn’t, you’d be suffering a burn)

You had to sit through the whole class with the sticky feeling on your chest and that ugly slosh, you really should’ve brought a jacket today.

“Hey baby- jesus christ, Y/N what happened?”

It’s quite hard to gouge a reaction from your boyfriend most of the times but you can’t believe that something as easy as the big ugly slosh of mocha and banana milk stain on your plain white shirt would actually shock him.

You pressed your lip into a tight line, pissed, as you open your arms, “This,” you exclaimed, “This is what some people call a bad day, Rin-chan.”

Suna shakes his head at your antic and just takes his sports jacket to place it on your figure, he’s awfully reminded of a Pomeranian when you’re angry but he’d never say that out loud.

Instead he softly grabs your hand and tugs it lightly, your quiet on your way home. He notices that maybe the fatigue is slowly sinking in, so the minute you guys enter your apartment, he urges you to change into your pajamas while he orders take out.

After a quick bite, you lay on top of him and snuggle on his neck, humming an unfamiliar tune as you draw circles on his chest, “Thanks.”

“Hm?’

“For being there.” You hummed, “I wouldn’t know what I’d do if you weren’t my boyfriend. So yeah, thanks...”

Suna feels a small smile make its way to his lips, he doesn’t respond, instead he just kisses your head and lets you lay on his arms, “Hey Y/N…” He paused and when he notices that you’re soundly asleep on his arms, his smile turns wider. i love you, he thinks randomly as he watches you sleep, “Goodnight.” he whispers instead out loud, kissing your forehead again and hugging you into his arms.

#suna rintarou #suna rintaro imagine #suna imagines #suna rintaro x reader #suna rintaro scenarios #suna fluff #haikyuu imagines #haikyu!! fanfics #haikyuu x reader #haikyuu scenarios #haikyuu headcanons #haikyuu fluff #haikyuu boyfriend scenarios #haikyuu x y/n

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ethereal-not-occult · 3 years

Text

patience and the mulberry

"With time and patience, the mulberry leaf becomes a silk gown."

Fandom: Good Omens Rating: General Audiences Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply Relationships: Aziraphale/Crowley (Good Omens) Characters: Crowley (Good Omens), Aziraphale (Good Omens) Additional Tags: Post-Canon, Established Relationship, Ineffable Husbands (Good Omens), Fluff and Angst, Character(s) of Color, Sericulture, silkworms, past religious trauma, but nothing bad happens in this fic I promise, mixed bookverse w/ TV elements, references to Chinese culture Notes: Originally written for the @goodomensfashionzine !

“I'll only be a minute, dear.” Aziraphale kissed Crowley's cheek as he opened the door of the Bentley. “You don't have to see me to the door if you don't want to.”

Crowley tightened his grip on the wheel. “Sure, angel. Sounds good to me.” The sibilants slid far too quickly past his clenched jaw, and he bit his tongue to stop the instinctive hiss from escaping.

Aziraphale gave him a sympathetic look, but shut the Bentley's door behind him and soon disappeared through the doors of the church. Once he was out of sight, Crowley slumped forward slightly, sliding his sunglasses up and rubbing at his eyes. A few deep breaths later, and he felt composed enough to exit the Bentley himself in blatant disregard for the “NO PARKING” sign on the curb.¹

[¹ Given his new job position (or lack thereof), lawbreaking was no longer a necessity, but old habits die hard.]

The bright afternoon sun made him wince a bit, and two robins in a nearby bush were getting frisky in a way he would never be able to unhear, but they made it easier to forget the distant wail of air sirens. Even standing out on the road, Crowley's skin prickled faintly with the remembered sting of consecrated ground.

He pushed the feeling aside and walked resolutely forward. Aziraphale was bound to take his sweet time as he mooned over the church's dusty old tomes, but Crowley had his own investigations to conduct while he waited. No rest for the wicked and all that.

The concrete pavement under his snakeskin shoes gave way to grass, and the tingling sensation in his soles faded. Soon he found himself at his intended destination—an Edenic grove of mulberry trees, clustered together in a ring in the church's backyard. He'd spotted them on the drive over and couldn't resist the temptation of a closer look.

Crowley wandered into the garden with a scrutinizing eye. They were young, for trees, but growing well despite their callowness. A particularly stocky sapling hardly flinched when Crowley gave it a token glare, much to his disappointment. Then again, outdoor plants were rarely as well-behaved as properly cowed houseplants. It seemed this attitude persisted even in ecclesiastic gardens such as these.

He cast a surreptitious glance over his shoulder, then reached a hand up into the tree's umbrella-like branches and tugged. The season wasn't quite right for fruits, but he still withdrew clutching a handful of dark ripe mulberries. Hardly apples, but his lips twitched upwards nonetheless. He plucked a berry from the pile and raised it to his lips.

“Zaoshang hao!”

Only a hasty miracle saved Crowley from choking as he jumped and swiveled around. Hovering right outside the churchyard was a middle-aged human, well-dressed and smiling pleasantly at him. Judging by her formal clothing and the Bible she carried, she was a part of the congregation, maybe even the priest herself. Crowley swallowed and stepped backwards.

“Ni shi jiaohui de xinshou ma?” the human called again, picking her way across the dewy grass in his direction. Crowley eyed the Bible she held, willing himself not to break out into hives.

“Um. Wo bu—er, no. I'm not new. Not here for church at all, actually.” He fidgeted and clasped his hands, still full of pilfered mulberries, behind his back. “Just waiting for someone.”

The human raised an eyebrow. “You're welcome to wait inside, if you like,” she said, also switching to English. “I reckon we still have biscuits left from the children's morning service—”

“No!” Crowley said too quickly, and perhaps too sharply. He winced. “I mean. That won't be necessary. I'd much rather stay out here, if it isn't too much trouble.”

The human gave him a Look. Crowley's cheeks heated and he averted his eyes, willing his sunglasses a few shades darker.

“Beautiful, aren't they?”

Crowley's head shot back up. The human had turned her back to him and was running a hand through the glossy green leaves of the nearest mulberry tree. Crowley could practically see the branches stretch out in delight beneath her touch, like a purring cat.

“Volunteers from our congregation take care of them,” the human continued, smiling at the young tree. “The kids here like raising silkworms, you see, and we welcome them to pick leaves from the trees each week to feed them.”

Silkworms. Of course. Despite himself, a hazy memory rose to the forefront of his mind: Sichuan, China, several hundreds of years ago. A family farm, weathered and cozy and oozing enough sheer goodness to make the average demon ill with it. Crowley wouldn't normally be caught dead in such a place, but he had owed a favour to the angel. His fingers twitched at the phantom memory of butter-soft silk fibres against his skin; long, winding threads that stretched out thin and fine, tangling so easily around his uncertain fingers. With this memory came the golden, moon-round face of a child he hadn't thought about in centuries, grinning toothily as they held out a box to him, a box filled with small pale larvae that wriggled among the spade-shaped leaves. “Zhe jiao can.”

Crowley forced himself to return to the present. The human was speaking to him.

“—waiting on Mr. Fell?” she asked.

Crowley blinked. Shook himself a little. “Yeah. He's helping out with the restoration of some old manuscript or other.”

The human smiled again. It was an unnervingly piercing expression. “I'm aware. I was the one who requested his help. Such a lovely man. Are you a friend of his?”

Crowley tensed. “His husband, actually.”

He braced himself, but the human only brightened. “Goodness, then you must be Mr. Crowley! Mr. Fell talks ever so much about you. Finally gone and tied the knot then, have you?”

Before Crowley could stammer out a reply, something dinged loudly, making him jump. The human pulled a phone out from her pocket and squinted at the screen.

“Sorry, I have to run back inside. But it was lovely meeting you, Mr. Crowley.” She stuck out a hand—thankfully not the one that had been holding the Bible—and after a brief hesitation, Crowley shook it. As quickly as she had arrived, the human disappeared from the garden, leaving Crowley alone and off-kilter amid a grove of mulberry trees.

---

Aziraphale emerged from the church around an hour later to find Crowley seated on the curb next to the Bentley, basking in the last rays of the afternoon sun as he scrolled through his phone.

“My dear,” the angel sighed. His joints creaked as he eased himself down to sit next to Crowley on the roadside. “Don't tell me you've been sitting here the entire time.”

“Nope,” Crowley said, popping the ‘p’. “I toured the gardens for a bit. Swiped some fruits, too. The mulberries aren’t half-bad, for a bunch of church plants, but they’ll need a good deal more threatening before they're really up to snuff.”

Crowley stopped when he saw Aziraphale chewing his lip, brow furrowed as he studied Crowley's face. Now it was Crowley's turn to sigh.

“Really, angel. It's fine. I was hardly bored.”

The expression didn't leave Aziraphale's face. A soft brown hand reached out and brushed aside stray wisps of hair from Crowley's forehead. The demon hadn't bothered to cut it since the Apocalypse-that-wasn't, and it was growing longer and more unruly by the day.

“I'm fine.” Crowley caught Aziraphale's hand and held it, carefully. He pressed his lips against the well-manicured fingers. “It was years ago, angel, and we both came out of it all right. You don't need to worry about me.”

Aziraphale still looked vaguely distressed as Crowley drew him close. With the sun setting behind him, framing his face and curly dark hair in a golden halo, he was the most beautiful thing Crowley had ever seen.

He kissed him then, right there on the road, in full sight of the church and probably Someone Else, too, if She happened to be watching at that particular moment. Once, he would've been terrified of such a public display, but he hadn't gone through hellfire and holy water to care anymore about what others thought of them.

As he helped Aziraphale into the Bentley, he noticed abruptly that the angel was carrying what appeared to be a shoebox, of all things, along with his usual camelhair coat.

“What on Earth is that?”

“Oh!” Aziraphale carefully pushed the box over to Crowley. “Mrs. Lao gave it to me once I'd finished with those manuscripts. She said it was a gift for you, actually. Have the two of you met before?”

Crowley stared down at the box, baffled. “We talked for a bit in the gardens just now, but I can’t imagine why…”

He trailed off, and his mouth dropped open as Aziraphale eased open the lid and beheld the contents with a raised eyebrow.

“Good heavens. Are those caterpillars?”

“Silkworms,” Crowley corrected automatically, leaning in for a closer look. There were so many of them, somehow both smaller and larger than he remembered, all white and wiggly and chomping away busily at the layers of mulberry leaves filling their box. None of them paid any attention whatsoever to their occult observers hovering above them.

“Why would she give you such a thing? Not that they aren't dear little creatures,” Aziraphale added hastily, glancing into the box, “but I doubt I have the means to keep them in the bookshop.”

“No need,” Crowley said before he could stop himself. “I can raise 'em in my flat.”

Aziraphale gave him a curious look. “You know how to care for these… insects?”

“Yeah.” Crowley gently shut the lid of the inhabited shoebox and curled a hand around the Bentley's stick-shift. “I've done something like this, before. I know what I'm doing.”

“If you say so.” Suddenly Aziraphale chuckled. At Crowley's affronted look, he demurred, “I'm not making fun, my dear. It's only that you still manage to surprise me, even after all these years.”

Aziraphale leaned in and pecked Crowley's cheek, making him blush red and sputter. Much to his disgruntlement, the Bentley chirped a light-hearted rendition of Haydn's Crazy Little Thing Called Love all the way home.

---

Crowley had spent the past eleven years co-parenting the Antichrist with Aziraphale.² They had faced this challenge head-on, and in his opinion, it hadn’t gone too shabbily. Now, without the threat of the Apocalypse hanging over his head, becoming a surrogate parent was far less daunting the second time around.

[² Even if young Warlock hadn't really been the son of Satan, it was the principle of the thing.]

Still, Crowley worried. He had always been something of a worrier, and that hadn't changed even after the First Day of the Rest of Their Lives.

After dropping off Aziraphale at the bookshop, Crowley returned to his flat, where he commenced the preparations for introducing his unexpected twenty-odd guests to their new home. This was accomplished by miracling up a small glass aquarium onto his desk, lining the bottom with paper towels, and carefully (read: nervously) placing the silkworms one by one into the tank. Once this was done, Crowley scattered the half-eaten mulberry leaves from the box around the aquarium. The silkworms set upon their interrupted lunch with all the enthusiasm of Aziraphale devouring a meringue pie at the Ritz.

Crowley slumped into his chair, took off his sunglasses with a wince, and rested his chin on his desk, staring into the glass tank.

“I raised your ancestors once, you know,” Crowley informed the wriggling creatures. “Tiny farm in China several centuries back. We'd weave branches together into a tray and let you loose inside. Bit like how manmade beehives work, or something.”

Crowley paused. Watched one silkworm slowly inch its way across a stem to tackle a new section of leaf. “‘Course, humans use wire mesh nowadays, but the general premise is the same. Always thought it was bloody clever, what humans could come up with. If you gave me a bunch of moth larvae and told me to make a living out of them, I definitely wouldn't think to make clothes.” He snorted. “Whoever came up with that, I'd like a glass of whatever they were drinking.”

The silkworms munched on. They ate much faster than they crawled, that was certain. In the quiet walls of his flat, away from prying human eyes, Crowley loosened the knot of his silk tie and tugged it off, easing the tightness around his neck.

“You're the ones who made this, in a sense,” he said, waving the tie at them. He laid the tie beside one glass wall of the tank at just the right angle for the inhabitants within to see. Several silkworms looked up curiously.

Crowley tossed his suit jacket aside, then unbuttoned his shirt collar. He had always prided himself on his sharp, modern attire over the years, the better to tempt humans with—or so he claimed. Despite repeated scoldings from his superiors, his Lust quotas had never been quite up to par.

Sufficiently dishevelled, and feeling all the freer for it, Crowley sank back into his chair to watch the silkworms.

“The only thing I didn't like about the process was the boiling,” he murmured. “Logically, I can see why it was done. And you would all be in cocoons, so it's not like you'd be in any pain. Not like I was.” He exhaled, the sound becoming a low hiss. “But still. Never liked it. Always felt like an awful lot of trouble just for the sake of some silk threads.”

One particularly adventurous silkworm had nosed its way upwards and was now creeping over the edge of the tank opening. Crowley made a mental note to devise a lid of some kind and stuck his finger against the lip of the tank. The silkworm crawled onto his hand without any hesitation. Tentatively, he drew it closer. Its many feet stuck stubbornly to his skin, and it reared up as he approached, swaying slightly, its mandibles twitching.

Crowley stared at the silkworm. The silkworm stared back, and seemed disappointed when Crowley had nothing else to offer. Just to prove it wrong, Crowley materialized a single large mulberry leaf in his other hand and presented it to the insect, who fell upon it with gluttonous enthusiasm.

Staring at the miracled leaf, an idea formed in Crowley's mind. He smiled, slowly.

“I need a hobby, now that I'm jobless,” he said aloud to the silkworm, letting it creep onto his palm. He ran a careful finger over its smooth back. “I think I'll take up sericulture again, for old time's sake.” He reached back into the tank and gently encouraged the silkworm to crawl back inside.

“Humans have to boil you alive to get those nice unbroken threads off your cocoons,” Crowley mused, withdrawing his hand. “Fortunately, I don't have to do things the human way.” He lowered himself until he was eye-level with the inhabitants of the tank. The silkworm he had carried paused in its perpetual eating and turned its head, almost like it was looking at him.

“How's this?” Crowley asked. “You'll be able to grow into a fuzzy, fully grown silk-moth, and I can take your cocoon after you've finished with it and miracle the threads whole again.” He paused and mulled it over. “I guess I could take it a step further and just miracle the finished silk together, but there's still something to be said about the human way of doing things.”

The silkworm bobbed the front half of its body as though in agreement. Crowley smiled again.

“We can make silk, and no one gets hurt. I'm a few hundred years out of practice, but I'm sure I could make it work, somehow.”

The silkworm turned its attention back to its meal. Crowley didn't notice. He was too busy wondering if Aziraphale had any old texts on silk-weaving that he could borrow, just so he could refresh his memory.

The angel would appreciate having a new silk bowtie to add to his collection.

---

Thank you for reading! Replies and reblogs are always much appreciated. <3

#good omens #ineffable husbands #crowley #aziraphale #go fanfiction #good omens fanfiction #go tv #otp: ineffable #li writes #zine fic #insects tw

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sovcrcigns · 3 years

Text

( hazal filiz küçükköse , cis woman , she / her ) ** ♔ announcing zofia bolesława , the queen of poland ! in a recent portrait they seem to resemble hazal filiz küçükköse . it is a miracle that she survived the last five years , considering they are poised , sagacious , and vindictive . i hope the plague has not changed them . they are against working with the other kingdoms .

why henlo AGAIN , i hope ur not sick of me yet ;p i’m back again with my lil queen of poland , i hope you lot will like her ! anyways , you know the drill : show this some luv n i’ll swing by for all of the plots n things !

F U N D A M E N T A L S .

full name : zofia olesia bolesława.

title(s) : queen of poland.

current age : thirty - two.

date of birth : november fifth.

gender identity : cis female.

pronouns : she / her.

nationality : polish.

religion : catholic.

birthplace : warsaw , poland.

orientation : heterosexual.

spoken language(s) : polish , turkish , french , latin , english.

C O N N E C T I O N S .

mother : apolonia kowalska.

father : jakub kowalski.

sibling(s) : franciszek kowalski , and mikołaj kowalski.

significant other : the king of poland.

other notable family members : nesrin bolesława , and ece bolesława.

child(ren) : none.

pet(s) : none.

P S Y C H O L O G Y .

positive traits : ardent , intrepid , graceful , imaginative , observant.

negative traits : blunt , obstinate , deceptive , guileful , impetuous.

strengths : charming , sensitive to others , imaginative , passionate , curious , artistic.

weaknesses : fiercely independent , unpredictable , easily stressed , overly competitive , fluctuating self - esteem.

zodiac : scorpio.

mbti : isfp — introverted , sensing , feeling , prospecting.

alignment : lawful neutral — the judge.

enneagram : type one — the reformer ( the rational, idealistic type : principled, purposeful, self-controlled, and perfectionistic. )

temperament : phlegmatic.

intelligence type : intra - personal.

disorder(s) : none.

addiction(s) : none.

vices : temperance , diligence , gratitude.

virtues : greed , wrath , pride.

P H Y S I O L O G Y .

eye colour : hazel / light brown.

hair colour : dark brown.

height : five feet seven inches.

weight : fifty - five kg.

build : of average height and slender build.

scar(s) : none.

tattoo(s) : none.

dominant hand : right.

allergies : none.

P E R S O N A L I T Y .

she’s pretty lethal underneath her doe - like eyes and fluttery eyelashes.

can be hella calculating and vindictive so do not cross her.

she’s all sweet smiles and charming words until her expression turns sharp and deadly ; it’s a tactic to entice then pounce , if you will.

definitely uses her looks to lull people into a false sense of security — a trap for them to fall into as she lets them believe she is harmless and innocent but she’ll always end up going in for the kill with razor - sharp words and a headstrong stance.

she gets bored pretty easily and it’s usually nothing personal but if it is , you’ll never be left in the dark as she’ll make it vividly clear to you.

she is actually very kind and compassionate beneath the surface.

if she cares about you , she will try her best to make you happy and genuinely wishes to see you succeed.

has an extreme soft spot for children.

adores jewel - tone colours : sapphire blue , ruby red , amethyst purple , citrine yellow , and emerald green.

due to her dulcet singing voice, her father often referred to her as his precious little songbird.

can probably drink any man under the table — blame it on growing up in a household full of men.

one of those people who just excels at everything she tries her hand at.

has a very high pain tolerance which is kinda freaky.

the only thing she is actually truly terrified of is spiders.

can probably murder with her eyes.

a sun goddess even if she was born in the winter.

gal loves flowers so bring her flowers n she’ll be happy.

H I S T O R Y .

currently under construction !

#this needs some work slljds #but here ya go !!!#1642hqintro

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swiss-cheeze · 4 years

Text

The Candyman Can || Spencer Reid

Request: YES/NO

Gender: none (I don’t believe there is by skimming what I’ve written however there may be a mistake idk)

Warnings: SPOILERS FOR ZUGZWANG (8x12), mention of gunshot and blood, talk of depression, I think that’s it?

Description: Maeve was gone, what more could one wish for than the Candyman?

Part 2: https://snitchthewitch.tumblr.com/post/623363610267320320/the-candyman-can-rainbow-connection-spencer

———

The gunshot rang out and it seemed to go in slow motion as Maeve and Diane fell to the floor in the pool of their own blood, Spencer's kneecaps hit the hard concrete flooring, echoed with his loud sobs. The atmosphere changed and everyone could feel it, hell, you swore you could see the atmosphere change too.

---

Spencer could hear the voices of his friends outside his door.

“Knock twice if you’re conscious”

It took a moment but Spencer knocked twice, the weight of his arm felt heavier than anything else, his heart tugged as his arm fell and he heard JJ talking too.

“He knows we’re ALL here for him!”

And then their footsteps retreated down the stairs and away from him. It all felt unreal, a fever dream, a hallucination of sorts. As Spencer stood up he took in his surroundings, the books littering the room, the discarded clothes; everything was new in his perspective but it all felt so normal, like the books had been there for all of his life instead of 14 days. He knew why. He was in the five stages of grief; he wanted to say it was depression, and with the evidence strewn around his room anyone else would say the same, but it also felt like he was in denial, or maybe bargaining? He made the choice, he told Diane him for her but she didn't take it, the kiss told him; she didn't believe his unbelievable lie even at face value. As the world turned sideways with his hands clutching the last thing Maeve and himself shared he heard the telltale ring of his voicemail receiver.

It was Derek, calling again.

His voice sounded numb to Spencer's ears as it kept ringing, the echo of the gunshot still evident in his ears, ringing, throbbing. It hurt. It hurt alot. Was this what Hotch felt when he was blown back from the explosion those years ago? That was a hard day for all of them, the irony from Spencer's thoughts almost made him chuckle. Almost.

The phone receiver echoed the room again and Spencer groaned inwardly, he stood quickly to hang it up but was too slow as it went through and your voice cut through the air.

“Spence! Uh, hey,” your chuckle rang through the air as Spencer stood standing still, “okay so this may be a little weird but um. Okay. When i was younger my dad would sing this song to me to help calm me down from anything and it always worked. Now i'm not saying it works for everyone don't get me wrong,” Spencer could hear the smile in your voice and swore he could hear your footsteps as you paced, what he guessed would be the conference room, “but, i just want to try and help so. I'm going to hang up, call you back and well,” the pause was evident as Spencer waited, “sing to you,” your grin was evident and Spencer could hear it. A moment passed as you hung up and suddenly Spencer was filled with, not exactly happiness but, an emotion close to, with his brain the way it is he couldn't think of the english dictionary.

The phone rang again, and Spencer considered actually picking up the phone but instead let it ring through.

He wanted to hear your voice. You weren't exactly the bestest of friends but you were good friends, enough to be okay to be able to do this for Spencer without either of you feeling uncomfortable.

“Who can take the sunrise?” your voice rang out, this was an unknown song to Spencer, “sprinkle it with dew,” Spencer sat on his couch as he listened, “cover it in chocolate and a miracle or two?” your voice was picking up, your emotions coming out almost making Spencer smile, “the candy man!” your voice went up an octave, “the candy man can, the candyman can because he mixes it with love” you emphasized ‘love’ at the end of your sentence, directing it to Spencer, “and makes the world taste good~” that’s when he realised. Charlie and the Chocolate Factory. It was your favourite book and favourite movie; the number 1 thing you ever talked about, always mentioning it in any moment you could. You had said multiple times to the team that you would stop because it was annoying but they always made sure to remind you it didn't annoy them and was actually nice to have something so positive within their line of work that didn't include the saving of lives. “Who can take a rainbow, wrap it in a sigh,” your voice continued, which took Spencer by surprise; were you going to sing the whole song? “Soak it in the sun and make a strawberry-lemon pie?” this sounded more like a question towards Spencer than any of the others, and he couldn't help the corners of his mouth turn up into a small smile and mouth ‘the candy man’, “the candy man? The candy man!” a tear slid down Spencer cheek as he sniffled, were you really doing this just so he could feel some sort of ‘better’? You of all people? He wasn't complaining, he was glad, the same as he was glad Garcia always asked if he was okay and sent those baskets; Derek made sure to mention how Garcia was feeling, “the candy man can”. Spencer heard the tremble in your voice, you were crying. Were you? You masked it too well for him to know, he heard a door open, “y-yeah i'll be there in a second,” your normal voice said before you sighed, “i'll finish this verse then leave you, um, where was i?” you thought for a moment, mumbling the previous lyrics, “ah right! The candyman can because he mixes it with love and makes the world taste good~” he could hear the smile etched onto your face, “we uh, we’ve got a case Spencer so, i have to go but, i hope that did something, i don't sing for everyone you know,” your laugh echoed happily, “even if you just listened with no emotion, but, we love you Spence,” you sighed as your voice wavered, “dont-dont ever forget that,” and with that you hung up.

---

“Hey Spencer!” your voice came through the receiver, he didn't pick up and let it go to voicemail but you sounded happy nonetheless, it was a few days after your first singing session with him, “i don't know if you liked it before but i told Derek and the team what i did for you, the simple singing...thing,” he could hear the grin, “and they said i should continue it! So, here's a new song, hang up on me anytime Spence i don't mind,” Spencer could hear you take in a breath before starting the new song, this time the sound of a ukulele coming through the phone; you knew how to play an instrument, “Somewhere over the rainbow,” Spencer recognized this one right away, “way up high, and the dreams that you dream of, once in a lullaby, I” he stood closer to the phone to hear you clearly as he held the book Maeve had gifted him all those days ago, “oh, somewhere over the rainbow blue birds fly, and the dreams that you dream of dreams really do come true, ohh, ohh,” he didn't realise it but a few tears slid down his cheek, were his emotions coming back? Well they never left technically he knew that, they just got buried down for awhile. “Someday I wish upon a star and wake up where the clouds are far behind. Me, where trouble melts like lemon drops, high above the chimney tops that's where,” you wanted Spencer to sing with you, “you'll find me, oh, somewhere over the rainbow, bluebirds fly, and the dreams that you dare to, oh why, oh why. Can’t i? i?” Before Spencer's brain could recognize what he was doing he picked up the phone and held it to his ear but it didn't stop you, you musnt have realised he picked up.

“Someday i wish upon a star,” Spencer gravelly voice came through the speaker before you could get the next lyric out as a grin took over your face and continued the chords and sung with Spencer, “wake up where the clouds are far behind, me,” Spencer let you take over the next lyric

“Where trouble melts like a lemon drops, high above the chimney tops that's where,” you paused for Spencer.

“You’ll find me” Spencer finished, he sniffled softly as you both continued the song.

“Somewhere, over the rainbow, way up high, and, the. Dreams that you dare to oh why, oh why. Can’t i? i?” your voices meshed together in a weird beauty, of a gravely and recently unused voice and a smooth, vocal lessoned voice, you both harmonized together for the final ‘oohs’ before the ukulele faded out and you grinned.

“Nice to have you back Spence,” you said softly, “um, i gotta get back to work but, i'll call again in a few days, see how you're going,” Spencer could still hear the grin in your voice over the phone.

“Thank you,” was all Spencer said before he hung up the line, it was abrupt but you took it in best emotions.

---

“It’s a force of habit,” a new voice cut through the thin air.

Reid.

“Reid”

“Spence”

J.J. went up to the disheveled man and gave him a comforting hug as the rest of the team came forward, yourself included.

“I didn't expect you back this soon, you sure you’re ready?” Hotch asked Spencer.

“No, but i think i figured something out,” Spencer replied, his voice was down an octave or two, the stubble didn't fit the Spencer you knew and you didn't want it to fit the new one if it meant you could have the old one back. Spencer looked at the team as if he was back in motion, squaring his shoulders and straightening his back Spencer started explaining what he knew about the case and what he had figured out.

You stayed back while Hotch and Spencer talked for a moment before Hotch left the room, he gave you a side glance that told you everything you needed to know; ‘stay back, help him’, and then the unit chief was gone and Spencer looked to you for a moment with tear filled eyes. Grabbing his hand softly you brought Spencer to a closed and unused conference room, the moment the click of the lock echoed through the room Spencer wrapped his arms around you as his shoulders jiggled; he was crying. It was the soft but comforting hold you had around Spencer that made him cry a little harder, suppressed sobs turned into small gasps of air as your shirt soaked through to your skin but it didn't matter either way to you; he was letting you in. The soft cushions of the couch gave way as you and Spencer sat on the fabric before laying down slowly, your touches were soft and hesitant, not wanting to ruin the moment to make the situation worse.

---

The plane ride was quiet as you sat in front of Spencer, when walking onto the plane Spencer had held your wrist from the stairs until you two sat down together, wanting to be around someone he knew and would somewhat understand. You could feel a presence come from behind but you didn't want to look.

“I counted five baskets,” J.J.’s voice floated from behind, Spencer gave a tight smile.

“Seven but I think Miss Cavenar next door may have taken a couple,” Spencer replied, you grinned at the thought of an old woman stealing woven baskets from outside the 30 year old Spencer's door. J.J. laughed too as you heard another set of footsteps coming to a halt next to J.J. as Spencer started talking again, “i'm really sorry if i've been kind of…” Spencer trailed off as you stopped him.

“Spence, dont.” you shook your head, “no”

“Kid,” Derek addressed, “i didn't mean for you to come all the way out there”

“I know,”

“Listen, if you need anything at all,” Derek offered, “you just have to ask,” you looked back to Derek and J.J. as J.J. nodded and so did you.

“Actually if you guys dont mind i could use some help with something,” Spencer said quickly, it caught you all off guard but you let a small grin overtake your lips.

“Name it”

---

The room was silent as J.J and Derek restored the bookshelves, Garcia and Spencer restored the fridge with fresh food with the blonde even cooking a few meal preps for Spencer so that he didn't have to worry too much about not eating. You worked on restoring the walls, furniture and packing away the geographic profiles and newspaper clippings from the previous case. It didn't take long with the team effort as you heard the sizzle in the kitchen from Garcia's cooking, J.J. and Derek slotting and sorting through the books, talking occasionally to find where each title went with you sitting on the floor with a needle and thread; patching up the holes in the couch as well as deep cleaning when it's done. In no time at all you all finished your jobs and one by one disembarked back to your homes. Derek, J.J. and Garcia all gave Spencer a hug as they left together; leaving you and Spencer alone.

“Thank you,” Spencer said softly as he sat on the newly patched up couch, the screech of the curtains opening made Spencer finally look up from his twiddling hands to see you bringing more light into the room.

“We’re all here for you Spence,” you reminded the boy, he was finally clean shaved and showered as you sat next to him.

“Not that,” the man remarked, “for singing to me all those weeks ago,” this took you by surprise, you didn't expect a thank you for something you had done for the sake of doing it.

“It’s...it’s alright Spencer,” you said with a nervous smile.

“I really enjoyed it,” Spencer said with a soft smile, he could see your eyes twinkle with a new found light at what he said.

“Thats...that's good Spencer, I'm glad,” you grinned and ruffled your hair as a nervous tick, “I'm glad you enjoyed it otherwise that would be kind of awkward” you laughed as Spencer's thumbs twiddled.

“Would…” the boy paused a second and his voice became hoarse, was he going to cry? “Could we continue it?” Spencer asked, “the singing thing I mean, you don't have to (Y/n), but I just…” his sentence trailed off as his brown hughes turned to your smiling face.

“Yeah, we can continue it Spencer I don't mind,” you said happily, “I'd be happy to do it, you don't have to sing with me but I'm more than happy to sing for you!” your fingers started to tap the tempo for a song on your knee.

“How many instruments do you know?” Spencer asked, “maybe, maybe we can do a duet?” his laugh was evident on the end of his sentence, “i'll play the piano”

“I forgot you learnt the piano,” you said with a grin as the memories came back to you of the autistic boy who played piano. A stiff silence overtook the room as you and Spencer sat next to each other, knees just barely touching before Spencer finally opened his mouth to talk again.

“Would you be able to sing to me now?” The question was sudden, like Spencer couldn't control when or how he said it before he himself caught up to the fact he said it; surprising himself. You grinned.

“Of course Spence,” you said happily, “Any requests?” you asked. Spencer shook his head no, “right,” you thought for a moment and went through the movies you recently watched with music in it before snapping your fingers, “ah ha!” you cleared your throat in a joking manner, causing Spencer to grin, before you started singing, “look for the,” you grinned, “bare necessities!” Spencer grinned, “the simple bare necessities!” you stood up as you sung and started dancing, shaking your body and singing happily before holding your hand out to invite Spencer in to dance with you. He accepted reluctantly and before you knew it the pair of you were singing a disney classic and dancing together.

It wouldn't be perfect, it will definitely take time, but that time you were willing to pay for if it meant more moments like this to help a friend.

#criminal minds #spencer reid #derek morgan #aaron hotchner #penelopie garcia #garcia #jj #david rossi #emily prentiss #alex blake #the candyman #spencer x reader #spencer reid x reader #criminal minds x reader

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reinabeestudio · 3 years

Photo

To celebrate Valentine’s Day, I wrote a humble one-shot featuring Phantom Thief Karamatsu and Detective Shinshia, inspired by the Phantom Thief set from Hesokuri Wars lol.

It is very simple, and I did it just to cater myself LMAO. But maybe some of you find it cute✨. As a small fact, I titled the story “Alone Together”.

Story under the cut!

Finally, February was here! Heart-shaped decorations in every store, roses of different colors were seen over different parts of the city, cute sweets… last but not least, there was the romance. For a long time, this was a sour month for the sextuplets. They were phantom thieves of renown, yet they never got a single chocolate in their whole lives by their fans! It was truly demoralizing, almost as bad as Christmas.

Tradition said that women were the ones that gifted chocolate for the men they had chosen. This year, however, the blue phantom thief had a mission. An important gift to give.

Karamatsu tried so many times in the past to convey his feelings to the new detective: Shinshia Doremi. She acted rough and distant at first. “We are enemies,” she declared coldly. But in the rare moments they could spent together, her behaviour softened and the real Shinshia Doremi was exposed: a warm, yet shy girl. Sadly, everytime he tried to tell her about what he felt, someone or something would interrupt their moment together. Often their separate duties, as detective and phantom thief.

Oh, Cupid, how cruel was he! Keeping the hearts of this couple in the scale of Lady Justice, its pans so close but never together! Such a tragic fate!

Well, perhaps the vision he had of their love inside his head had evolved into something more dramatic than what it actually was in real life. But it added some excitement to whatever their situation was.

Karamatsu was no fool, either. He knew there were others interested in the girl… Mostly, his boisterous, shitty eldest. He noticed the way that idiot looked at her, and it wasn’t love. At least, not the the type of love he felt inside. The blue thief decided it was time to strike while he still had the chance, and ask her out. Subtly.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Once more the young detective ended up being one of the few remaining people in the department. Rookies got so much paperwork, it was just ridiculous. She had to keep a dictionary close to her, too. Some of these characters looked like an amalgamation made of nightmares.

To keep boredom away, Shinshia started singing, the words echoing throughout the empty office. A soft duet, the name of which she could not call to mind at the moment. However, she did remember that it was a popular love song. It was one of the first songs she heard when she first arrived to Japan.

The sun goes to sleep once more

In this lonely time, I wonder

Is your heart dreaming of me?

The detective finished with the paper she had in front of her, and grabbed the next one in the pile. “How tedious,” she thought. She kept singing to herself.

Stars twinkle above our heads

And the moon gives us her best glowing smile

But tonight, I’ll be yours...

“... And yours alone.”

Another voice joined in with her song, singing along. Shinshia went silent and turned around, but she saw nothing besides empty desks. She went back to her paperwork, along with her song.

However, before she could sing another word, Shinshia stopped entirely when suddenly a pair of hands covered her eyes. “Who is it?” a familiar male voice asked in a sing-song tone.

“The sweet release of death, I hope.”

She resumed her work when she regained her sight as the infamous phantom thief, Karamatsu, casually leant against her desk with a subtle smile. “Long day, I presume.”

“You have no idea,” she sighed and tucked her hair behind her ears . “You should leave before someone sees you. Unless you want me to handcuff you.”

Karamatsu laughed quietly. “Heh, being helpless at your mercy sounds like a very tempting offer, darling. ” Shinshia’s face immediately flushed and he laughed again, genuinely. “But I am here to steal you away.”

“Steal me away?” Shinshia asked, not even looking away from the papers. She put some loose locks of hair behind her ear again. She was often pulling hair away from her face lately. “Sorry Karamatsu, but I have a ton of paperwork left to do. I can’t be stolen right now.”

“C’mon, Shia-chan! It won’t be for long. I’m just asking you to take a break.”

“I told you, I’m busy right n-”

The phantom thief put a hand over the paper she was writing on, and the scowling detective finally looked up at him. It was in that moment when she noticed that he was wearing casual clothes, and not his usual garish outfit filled with blue glitter. The only part that did stand out was, perhaps, the black eyepatch on his left eye. He felt triumphant over this, how she looked at him.

“Tonight, be mine alone ♪.”

After a minute of silence and a staring competition that was perhaps getting a bit too intense for the situation, Shinshia got up from her desk grumbling. “Fine. A short break.”

With a triumphant spring in his step, he suddenly scooped her up in his arms effortlessly and left the office. His plan was working so far.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

Now this was strange.

Karamatsu dragged Shinshia out of the office. That was not the strange part, but instead of avoiding crowded places like he always did, they just… kept walking. Out in the open. Walking didn’t bother her, it was just unusual. He was a famous criminal, after all. It was a miracle they left the building so easily. Or maybe the author was just too lazy to think of something smart.

Wait, author? What author? That makes no sense. Just ignore it.

It was snowing outside. Snow wasn’t common where she was from, so she still marvelled at the sight of it everytime. Despite how much she enjoyed watching the snow fall, it was still cold in the streets. So smart was she, that she forgot to grab her jacket before they left, and now she was constantly rubbing her hands together.

Karamatsu laughed. “You’ll end up setting them on fire, Shia-chan.”

Shinshia snorted. The comment was lame, yet she snorted, like the fool she was. Karamatsu took her hand on his own and blew on it, before he decided to put both of their hands inside his coat pocket. She glanced at him, noticing that he was actually doing the same at her. However, as soon as he noticed her eyes on him, Karamatsu quickly looked away and instead focused on the cars that passed by.

After spending their evening with an impromptu stroll, they finally headed back to the building. Karamatsu spent most of the time silent, which was even more unusual that this whole situation. Usually, he loved doing long monologues filled with inscrutable flowery words that probably sounded cool only in his mind. But during that evening, Karamatsu seemed focused in whatever was going through his head at the moment. Then again, Shinshia didn’t talk much herself.

The poor detective couldn’t help it! He was a man that had to be put behind bars for his crimes, she knew this. However, everytime they were together, her mind just stopped working properly. This had been happening since she actually caught him once: Karamatsu, one of the six-colored phantom thieves that stole valuable pieces of art all around the city. He was pretty popular among the youngest members of her department, some of them even called themselves his fans. That was done in secret, of course.

Shinshia knew little about the man next to her. Truth be told, she wanted to unveil that air of mystery around him by herself. Not as a detective, but as… something else. Maybe as a friend. Or maybe as something deeper. Only the author knew.

Hold on, what-- you know what, nevermind that.

First she thought, maybe she was just starstruck. After all, as soon as she arrived to that building, she was assigned to the case of the phantom thieves. Shinshia was in a country that was so different to her native Spain, and she knew no one, besides this guy. A criminal. But he kept coming back when she was alone, giving her advice and listening to her troubles… And then a bond bloomed between them. So sudden, yet so natural, as if it was destined to happen.

“Shinshia,” Karamatsu called to her softly, pulling her from her thoughts, “I have a little present for you.”

“A present? Why?”

“Just a little something I got for you! It’s fine, I promise.”

Shinshia sighed. “Well, fine.”

His eye glittered as he clasped his hands happily. Gosh, what a big baby. “Good! Close your eyes, and don’t open them until I say you can, understand?” He said that last part in English, for some reason.

Strange request, but Shinshia did what he told her anyway, and closed her eyes. She could hear Karamatsu fumbling with something- not sure with what, but it was small, she supposed. He did say it was a little something, after all. Suddenly, she felt his hands on the sides of her head, playing with the locks of her hair. He put them back, and then she felt those same hair locks being slightly pulled back by something. She feels his warm hand linger on her chin, delicately caressing along her jawline before pulling away.

“Open your eyes.”

Shinshia opened her eyes, feeling really curious about what Karamatsu did. He took out a round pocket mirror and then he showed her: a blue hair bow was holding back her hair.

Karamatsu smiled at her softly. “Your hair is growing long, Shia-chan. It keeps getting in front of your eyes, doesn’t it?” She nodded, impressed. When did he notice her annoyance at her hair? It was such an insignificant detail. “Now I can see your cute face again.”

Shinshia looked down, feeling her face warm up. “T-Thanks.”

After he put the small mirror back in its place, he took an envelope out of the same pocket. He gave it to her. It would have looked like a normal letter, if it wasn’t for the small heart on the back… And the blue glitter. So painful.

“What is this?” Shinshia took the envelope and opened it. Inside there was a single piece of black paper with text in gold letters. “An invitation?”

“Observant as always! It’d make me very happy to see you there.”

“I’m not sure, Karamatsu… this is very sudden.”

“But, Shia-chan! It will be so much fun!” Karamatsu looked at her with puppy eyes. Uh, eye. “Do it for me. Please?”

How was that working so well, what the hell. Shinshia sighed in defeat. “I will think about it.”

Feeling victorious yet again, Karamatsu took her hand and kissed her knuckles. “Good night, Shia-chan. I hope to see you there.” Those were his last words before he turned around and walked away, quickly melting into the crowd. Now Shinshia Doremi was left alone at the doors of her workplace with her heart beating incredibly fast.

The detective looked down at the sparkly envelope. This thing was so shiny that it hurted to look at it for too long. It was so painful! It was so tacky!

“You're so troublesome.” she said to no one. She released a deep sigh.

She was in love with the blue phantom thief called Karamatsu.

Shinshia decided to attend to the party, after all.

She didn’t go to parties often… mostly because she wasn’t invited to any of them. But, if she was being honest with herself, the promise of meeting him again was too tempting to resist. Also, free food and drinks.

Woah. She really had to have a deep crush on the man of strange monologues, if she was going to ignore her insecurity just for him. What a guy, he was making miracles happen even when he wasn’t present.

So she got ready, donning the prettiest dress she could find inside her closet. She wore the blue bow he gifted her, and after checking herself in the mirror, she grabbed her clutch purse and left to the party.

“Even if Karamatsu isn’t there, it’s better than to be alone during Valentine’s day,” she thought as she locked the door of her house behind her.

⊱ ────── {.⋅ ♡ ⋅.} ───── ⊰

It was a Valentine’s dance party. It should have been obvious, considering the day it took place. But she wasn’t aware that Valentine’s Day parties existed at all. Of course they do, why wouldn’t they? Maybe the host was single as hell, and this was their attempt in trying to find a partner. Or maybe it was a Jay Gatsby trying to find their Daisy Buchanan. Yikes, hopefully not.

Also, every celebration needs a party, obviously.

Somewhere, someone in the world will throw a party for Cat Day. Maybe they will put a silly little hat on top of their cat’s head, followed by the confused pet trying to swat it away with its little paws and failing as the owner was in the floor laughing to tears.

That turned to be a very amusing thought, after all. It’d be so funny if someone celebrated Cat Day like that. She didn’t even know if Cat Day existed at all, but now she really hoped that it did.

Back to reality, Shinshia grabbed a glass from the nearest table as she looked around, moving between the many guests that were having fun together. Where in the world was Karamatsu? How could a single man wearing a black eyepatch be so difficult to find among so many colorful outfits? Pretty sure his full name was Karamatsu Sandiego. A famous thief whose signature look features a blue, glittery matching top hat and long cape. Of course, it all checked out, she just solved the case.

The detective was so into her own dumb line of thought that she didn’t notice the carpet, and her shoe caught. There was barely time to react; carpet veered up, her drink tipped forward, and suddenly the floor was very close. Extremely close. However, she hadn’t bit it, and that didn’t quite make sense. Gravity existed, and through gravity, she should have hit the floor.

There was something holding her up. A hand, which connected to an arm, which led all the way to a well-tailored suit. A delicious, familiar fragrance reached her nose.

“Well now,” a voice purred so slowly, and hands turned her to face upwards. Karamatsu’s face slowly turned into a tender smile. “I see you decided to come after all, darling.”

“Ah, well…” Shinshia really couldn’t say much with her waist held so enticingly by those hands, as warm hands brushed up against her skin and tickled. “I... I had to make sure that you didn’t steal anything! There are many people here wearing valuable jewelry, I’m sure you’d manage to steal something.”

“Heh, it seems my plans were ruined by the great Shinshia once more!” Karamatsu continued onwards with that smile just deepening at her sight, and somehow, he seemed to be leaning a bit closer. The room rang with cheery laughter, and the party carried onwards without a single glance towards the thief and the detective.

“You always seem to be,” one hand caressed its fine way up to her shoulder, “Stumbling around me. I’m starting to wonder if you are tripping on purpose now, hmmm?”

He knew well she wasn’t doing it on purpose. But before she could complain about that, he pressed a finger to her lips, silencing her completely. The hand on her waist pulled her just a little closer that she could feel the warmth radiating from him. He laced his fingers with hers. “I enjoy our moments together, darling.”

The orchestra struck up a mesmerizing waltz, and Karamatsu’s eye perked up enough that Shinshia could practically see the lightbulb above his head.

“Let’s dance!” he invited her without a second thought, and Shinshia stumbled as Karamatsu guided her to the dance floor. A violin hummed and a key plucked, and then his hands were on her waist, a smile beaming away.

Unexpectedly, he was good at the waltz. What the hell, that was not fair. Shinshia found herself tripping quite a lot, and the phantom thief just chuckled everytime she crashed into his body. It didn’t seem to phase him either, he just grinned all the wider and adjusted until she fell back into rhythm.

Finally, somehow the rhythm came to Shinshia. Maybe it was the guiding steps of Karamatsu. Maybe it was the smile he gave her as she fumbled along. Or, perhaps, it was the hand he still had on her waist, caring as it kindly led her along despite her inexperience. Whatever it was, it had her steps synchronize with Karamatsu’s, and suddenly she started noticing other things: how his rings glistened in the light as Karamatsu led both of them through the swarm of couples, or how his brown eye never looked away from her face. Small details, yet they were such lovely little things that made her heart beat wildly inside the detective’s chest.

“Say, Shinshia.”

“Yes?”

“You said you came here to make sure I didn’t steal anything, right?”

Shinshia raised an eyebrow in confusion, but she nodded. Where was he going on with this? Was he actually going to do that? She told it as a joke, she didn’t want to work tonight.

“Heh, well, my beloved Shinshia... ” Karamatsu leaned down slightly and whispered. “I believe I already stole something.”

Shinshia didn’t really notice the song grew faster until a violin screeched in delight and suddenly Karamatsu was really close. When the song was over, he had dipped her just as the last violin ended with an exaggerated flourish.

Karamatsu leaned forward, his lips brushing hers, and perhaps it hadn’t been such a bad thing, tripping over her own shoe. Not when she could feel him gaze at her in rapt adoration. Not when Karamatsu had her so lovingly wrapped in his hands, and clutching as if she was the most fragile, most precious thing in the world that had happened to him.

No, perhaps it was for the best.

#Self Insert #Shinshia Doremi #Karamatsu #osomatsu san #My writing #my art #HAPPY VALENTINES DAY!!! HAVE SOME CRINGE <3 #the lyrics song she's singing to herself was written by me!!!#the song is called ''alone together''. hence the title lol #also yeah shia gets distracted easily by her own thoughts (bc shes me AKLSDMA)#i have no idea if valentine parties exist actually. they prolly do tho #btw if you wonder: ''Also every celebration needs a party obviously'' part?? yes it was sarcasm LMAO #more or less what you can expect in Nil Admirari #albeit the romance wouldnt happen so fast AJKSFNAJKS this is a oneshot after all

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aphspain-pure · 4 years

Text

Back to de past, right to the future [Chap. I]

Category: Fanfic.

Pair: EngSpa, UkSpa.

Words: 2.611.

Genre(s): drama, historical, yaoi.

Abstract: England feels some magical disturbance in the air that morning. How could he have imagined that it was caused by his own self, but some centuries ago.

Pirate England suddendly appears in the Modern Era.

________________

When he opened his eyes, England could not focus well.

It was dark and cold, but the tremendous and familiar humidity of his cabin or any of the parts of his ship was not noticeable. Nor could he feel the typical rocking of the waves of the high seas, so he deduced that, God knows why, he was not in his boat.

He scrambled to his feet and took a quick look around him in dismay. He was in complete darkness but, thanks to the patch over his left eye, he was quickly able to get used to the lack of light. Only then he did recognize the place.

This was his magic room, where since Viking occupation times he had conjured his spells and his miracles. It was cloudy, dark and penetrating as always. There was nothing out of place except for him, who couldn't bring himself to remember how in the hell he had gotten there. He did not remember even having arrived at port, even having approached Great Britain. The last thing he remembered was being on his ship, somewhere between the Caribbean and the West Indies, and he couldn't figure out how or when he ended up there.

Grunting in disagreement, with a hangover of a thousand horrors, he decided to leave the questions unanswered for later and get up, dusting himself off, ready to go out and yell at the first servant who crossed his path. He didn't know what was going on but he didn't care, at least he wouldn't think about it until he'd had his first shot of whiskey or rum and kicked a couple of arse.

Or so he thought, unhinged, until he opened his special room’s door and took a look outside.

- What the bloody hell?

____________________________

In another part of London, England watched the energy in the air with a puzzled countenance, noticing slight arrhythmic disturbances in the wind while enjoying his famous breakfast tea. He was in a cozy old café from his Victorian era that still stood to this day and which England cherished with pure English love and courtesy. He had decided to have breakfast there, early, to arrive with plenty of time for the world conference that day. That was why he had left the house exceptionally early, even if he usually preferred to get up at a moderate hour and take it easy on homely mornings.

He sighed. He had once been a man of action.

Maybe America was right when he accused him of being a boring old curmudgeon.

He calmly finished his cup of tea, retrieved his coat from the courteous waiter who had stripped him of it earlier –a practice which, now almost extinct in modern times, England greatly appreciated-, thanked him and left. The day was cloudy and threateningly rainy in London, as usual.

Thus, once outside, he felt again that feeling of unease that had been attacking him for some time. A spiritual unrest, as if something bad was about to happen. Deciding not to become paranoid, he called his chauffeur to take him to the boardroom right in the center of Westminster.

__________________________

He arrived early, and the only other nations besides himself already there were Germany, Switzerland, Netherlands, and Japan. The rest would still be in their respective hotels or even, if they had decided to fly from their countries that morning, on the plane or the airport. As far as he knew, France used to prefer the latter option when meetings were held at his place, preferring to spend as little time as possible on British soil. And England could not say that it did not understand or disapprove of it; moreover, he would resort to the same when the situation was the opposite.

He walked over, respectfully greeted the three blonde nations, and calmly placed himself next to Japan. His transoceanic friend gave him a slight bow of the head. - Ohayo gosaimasu, Igirisu-san. How has the sun risen today? –he commented, in an appropriate and neutral tone.

England appreciated the chivalricism. – It isn’t being one of my best days, but I cannot complain. Anyway, good morning to you too, Japan. –And the Japanese gave him a small and short smile.

After that all went silent, and the only thing that was heard for a few minutes was the chalk of Germany hitting the blackboard as he wrote down the important points of the day. Everyone knew that the meeting would probably end as usual, with nothing clear, with the United States laughing and claiming to be a hero every few seconds, the odd country asleep, hysterical discussions between itself and France and Russia trying to make people become one with him, but Germany still insisted on trying to create a serious atmosphere. Internally, England admired and appreciated his dedication, even if it didn't get real results in the end.

Eventually the rest of the countries began to arrive one by one. The feeling of discomfort and that something was wrong did not leave the guts of the host country, anyway.

There was something strange, even dangerous, floating in the atmosphere. His sharp, mint green eyes scanned every corner trying to find the source of the discomfort, unable to find anything. He had a pleasant conversation with Luxembourg when he arrived and later he chatted with Portugal a bit, all automatically while he went over everything. Each time the air was tighter from a supernatural point of view, as if the Disaster itself was drawing closer and closer.

It wasn't until Norway appeared in his field of vision that England paid any real attention to something.

Usually they would do nothing but greet each other from afar with a minimal movement of the head. But if Norway had stood there, in front of him, it definitely meant something.

Getting to the point, the Nordic inquired. - What the hell is happening here? –With his frankness and usual calm voice.

England, sighing, crossed his arms and furrowed his thick eyebrows.

- It's been bothering me since this morning. I don't know what the hell it can be, but it's downright disturbing. It is… like a powerful presence but at the same time cloudy. And the strangest thing of all is that it looks strangely familiar to me.

- Yeah… -the other man agreed-. It's ... certainly familiar in some way. –Then he looked around-. And every time it seems to increase that energy. You haven't used magic again while drunk, have you? –And for a moment, England looked offended. At least before recalling the hundreds of times it had actually happened, after which he quietly apologized.

Trying to hide that he was somewhat ashamed of himself, he cleared his throat and muttered that he didn't remember conjuring anything lately. That definitely upset the Norwegian's stern gesture a bit.

- So this doesn't make sense.

A moment later the Italian brothers entered and Germany called the session off. He and Norway were forced to separate, but not before sending each other glances of beware of anything and nodding in agreement.

But in these, just as Germany was about to start with the first point of the day, the main gate that led to the huge boardroom was thrown open.

And the most incredible thing happened.

- What the hell is going on here by gad!? –The sordid growl of the new presence broke in. They all immediately turned to look there and, simply petrified, England stood up, shocked, knocking the chair over.

In front of them stood an astonishing 17th century pirate captain, dressed in his grandiose red coat, his worn flat boots, his jeweled saber, his open ruffled shirt, the typical gold ear rings, the eye patch in the eye and the so characteristic captain's hat. His voice had been sordid and commanding and his eyes exuded the amusement and danger of a true saltwater buccaneer. Someone who, at least the European countries and some former colonies, recognized immediately. He licked his lips leisurely as he began to draw his sword.

- You're already singing if you don't want to die, you louts! What does this all mean? –And pointed the sword towards the large table full of perplexed countries.

The attention fell entirely on him, in a frozen moment of time, until someone else claimed it.

- What the bloody hell are you doing here!?

Then the newcomer pirate's eyes lifted until, surprised and interested, they rested on the emitter. He looked directly at England, dressed and mature, with an uneasy and confused smile. - I should ask you the same. What is this all supposed to be? –taking great strides and dangerously dancing his saber with that deranged look of his-. You better start spitting it all out if you don't want to taste my steel, you fucking bastard.

And England, still not fully recovered from his shock, tried to articulate something to calm the hotheaded just as the door opened a second time. This time, timidly and slowly.

- Eh… Hello? I'm sorry I'm late again, I've fallen asleep again haha… -from a newcomer Spain who nervously rubbed the back of his neck with an embarrassed gesture.

This intrusion impressively attracted the pirate’s attention.

- You... –he blurted out, lifting the eyepatch to see perfectly with both eyes, as a wolfish grin stretched the corners of his lips and he screamed in exaltation-. On guard, you bastard!

And before Spain could even react, the subject came forward like a veritable bloodthirsty beast towards him. The ancient empire, instinctively, placed his body on guard against the imminent attack, which he would have been about to receive if it had not been for the sudden cry that devastated the room:

- SLEEP!

And the body of the said pirate man fell inert to the ground. England had conjured something to make him abruptly fall asleep. The boardroom was suddenly silent.

England and Spain looked at each other in shock.

- ...What the hell?

_____________________

When pirate England emerged from the dark abyss of unconsciousness again, it appeared to be back at its home outside London. He blinked a few times as he growled and groaned at the post-spell pain in his tormented mind. He cursed the other England, the one from the future who had had such a naughty face, and tried to regain control of his body.

It was then that he was known prisoned. His arms were tied with a thick, scratchy rope to the back of the chair he was sitting on. He raised an eyebrow for a moment, really not very impressed, and later turned his gaze straight ahead.

The familiar face of his presumed captor managed to get an idle, amused smile from his lips.

- Scared that I might bite you, darling?

Which was quickly answered by a. – Dare to even suggest such a thing and I will hang you before you can take a step. –Which brought an even bigger smile and a greater sparkle in the other's eye.

There, sitting on the sofa, Spain was holding a rare article of paper with many hyper-realistic letters and images that he seemed to be reading carefully. But England knew better. He knew as the best what face this handsome jerk made when he was really focused, and the one he made when he tried to fake it. Catching Spain in the middle of that picaresque action seemed as charming as it was amusing, and he could not but fall into the temptation to frustrate him in his attempt.

- I do not know anything about the future, but just by seeing those whore's clothes that you bring, I think I would not mind being in your humble care a little more.

A vein was marked in Spain’s forehead who, honestly, had been years, decades…! With no real dislike for England. An insincere and tight smile showed his vain attempt at impassiveness. –This I am wearing is a simple "shirt", the type of garment that is worn today for formal meetings.

- Well, what a scandal, how immoral! With that tight-fitting blouse, I could see your nipples from nautical miles away. –To which, with a new vein marked, Spain jumped just at the time that contemporary England entered the room.

He carried with him a small silver tray with two porcelain mugs of Earl Grey and a few small butter cakes. His entrance surprised the other two. Immediately, however, Spain pointed at the captive and yelled at the newcomer. – Tell this uneducated you that neither my shirt is obscene nor am I a whore, now!

That sudden demand caught England off guard, whose first thought was to look directly at the named shirt, seeing, therefore, how the white fabric hugged and made the tanned skin transparent. He swallowed hard for a moment, which his other self took advantage of to act funny.

- From the familiar treatment that you two maintain I deduce that, very and at the same time not so much to my regret, in the future the Spanish Empire and I have that kind of intimate relationship. –Whistling at the sudden sight of a red and indignant England and an angry Spain-. In the bull’s eye, isn't it?

Making that this time, yes, Spain was so frustrated that he ended up pouncing on him.

The action awakened the green in the captive's eyes, amused to the core that he had finally made the future version of his rival lose his temper. Spain fell on him, a pair of strong hands and –although not as calloused as he himself remembered- still rough from the work in the fields surrounding his neck with accumulated resentment.

He held back a smile.

- Ahh... I see that you are both quite rusted …

And, shocking Spain (who had still been trying to hang him), he broke free from his moorings and abruptly swapped positions.

England, from outside, watched in shock and without being able to speak as, in front of his eyes, his former self turned the tables and placed himself with the force of a beast above his current EU partner. Spain had fallen backwards and his hands had been forcibly captured on his head; he writhed like a sardine as he looked badly and –almost- growled at the one who just two seconds ago had been tied to a chair. Immobilizing his body, the pirate had mounted on him, leaving him unable to actuate any movement.

Looking indiscreet and almost with little concealed grimace, England glanced in the direction of present-day Britain. - Even a bastard child who has not seen more boobs in his life than his mother's would have loosened a knot that simple. –He growled, nodding at the untied rope lying on the ground. Making disgust, this time he directed his words to Spain under his grip-. Are you grossly underestimating me or are you so old that you have forgotten what you were capable of in the past...?

The three pairs of green eyes maintained that tense look for a few long seconds in which, little by little, the pirate began to change that tension for a deeper emotion.

Darker and more penetrating eyes as they went down through the other's tanned build. – Although I have to admit that this body is not that of an old man, no sir ... –taking the liberty of passing a hand from Spain’s chin to his tanned chest-. It's been a while since I saw this sinful skin so closely, I presume since 1588 …

And Spain’s eyes expanded in shock, while modern England’s nearly shook in bewilderment.

The apparition of Pirate Era England had opened something that had been buried centuries ago.

#hetalia #hetalia fanfiction #engspa #ukspa #spuk #aph spain #aph england #aph norway #pirate england #sorry this was kinda better in my mother tongue

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7wanderingpaws · 4 years

Text

Simply, Yours. (5)

Pairing: Baekhyun x reader

Genre: family AU, hapkido teacher AU

Word count: 3.1K

Warnings: cursing

a/n: Finally I am updating this little story! I havent updated it in a long while for which I apologise, it wasnt my intention :( But there will be a slight twist in their “planned” pregnancy so... I cant wait to have a little fun 😁 I am always eager to hear your opinions.🙌 Stay safe!

MASTERLIST

PARTS: 1 . 2 . 3 . 4 . 5

This time, Baekhyun was the first one to be awake. Stirring a little bit around, he turned to his right side where your back was facing him, your hair splayed out on the pillow like a wild willow tree.

Scurrying a little closer, he brought his pillow to yours, his arm finding your sweet middle as he breathed in your fresh scent. He really liked moments like these, when the sun had yet to rise, the clock had yet to struck 6 and you had yet to wake up, while he could just indulge in looking at you without being interrupted by anything or anyone.

Plus, the fact that few days had already passed since both you and him found out about your state did not mean he got used to the idea of suddenly three people occupying this bed. What a miracle, he thought. What a blessing.

Baekhyun carefully maneuvered himself out of the bed, his feet gently tapping on the wooden floor as he tiptoed to your side to turn off your alarm clock. He wanted to be the one to surprise you and wake you up with healthy breakfast in bed before both of you would have to head out to your work places.

Today he had a hapkido class with university students and as much as he loved the class, he just wanted to spend time with you.

He was just in the middle of pouring thick and rich pumpkin porridge into the last bowl when he heard you open the bedroom door.

“Baekhyun, what are you doing up so early?” you murmured, your voice low and heavy. “Sorry, it seems like I forgot to turn on the alarm clock. I would have done the breakfast myself,” you continued walking to his side to take the big pot out of his hand so that you could do it instead of him.

Baekhyun continued his job, not budging once at your prying hands. “Why are you up if your alarm clock didn't go off? I worked so hard this morning to turn off your alarm, and yet here you are beating the nature clock.”

“You turned off my alarm?” you asked, surprised.

“Of course I did!” exclaimed Baekhyun, as he put the pot back down on the stove and reached for the drawer to take out two spoons. “Now go back to bed, we have a breakfast to eat and you still owe me a face of surprise when I bring the food in,” he said, preoccupied with putting the bowls on the tray.

You held back the giggle that was threatening to spill at his antiques. “Alright, let me just pee real quick.”

By the time you were back, Baekhyun was bouncing on the bed, eagerly waiting for both of you to indulge in the hot porridge that was one of your favourites. You made sure to look completely taken aback when you sat down on the bed, giving him a loud peck on the cheek before making yourself comfortable. “You know this is the food we have after a hangover,” you murmured, taking a big spoonful and swallowing it in one.

“Oho, slow down, hungry cub. You will get a tummy ache if you eat so fast,” scolded Baekhyun gently, making you smile.

“Yes, chef.”

He gave you a wink. “And anyway. You love this porridge, might as well please your taste buds.”

You nodded, devouring a spoonful after another until you were done before him. And that rarely ever happened. “Done!”

he shook his head at you, trying to swallow the last bids of his porridge.

“Look at me! I rock today,” you laughed loudly when he pouted.

“It isn't fair,” he whined, putting down his spoon into now an empty bowl. “I am alone while you guys are two!”

Your laughter halted, melting into an endearing smile. Warmth spread through your insides. “I don't think its the matter yet,” you responded. “It has long way to grow for me to eat for two, you know?”

“No, it doesn't. It still counts.”

Rolling your eyes at him, you reached over the tray to mess up his bed hair. “Alright, whatever you say, mister. Still does not change the fact that I win for today, ha! And now, you better hurry, you need to be at the university in an hour!”

“First a kiss,” he demanded, crossing his arms on his chest.

Smiling, you pressed your lips to his warm ones, tasting the porridge.

“Love you,” he murmured.

Once Baekhyun was out the door, you rushed to prepare for your work only to end up with your head in the toilet, throwing up all the porridge and more.

____

You made it your absolute, utmost priority to keep your blessed state as far away from the workplace as possible. Not only was it all so fresh and new, but you also needed to wait till the first trimester was over to be 100% sure the pregnancy was safe and actually happening. Besides, you would lose your job immediately if your boss as much as whifs a baby around you. Thankfully, he was not the smartest man, as much as he insisted himself.

It only got proven when he called you into his office few days later, his meaty index finger pointing at the contract in front of him. It was a deal between yours and a Chinese company, but it was written in English. “I am sure there was a mistake on their side,” he mumbled, frustration slowly, but surely boiling in his facial features as he was gripping the piece of paper. He chuckled bitterly. “And they think I wouldnt find out? Just who do they think they are? I find out everything,” he seethed through gritted teeth as he suddenly snapped his eyes up at you, catching you off guard in the process.

You winced, taking a cautious step back, trying not to give too much attention to the meaning behind his words. “Sir, I believe this is correct,” you tried to explain gently, “the deal does not have any mistakes in English, we have already skimmed through it.”

He frowned. “But the calculations aren't correct. There should be one more zero.”

As calmly as you possibly could, you explained to him that he, indeed, bought much more than he actually thought. Making business was not always rainbows and unicorns, and today this fact seemed to dawn on your boss. “You were in a conference call last week,” you kept reminding him, “and because they offered you a good deal, you decided to buy more. Therefore you had to pay more, and we received less.”

He snatched the paper out of your small hands and gave you an ugly stare. “Whatever. I know my things,” he mumbled, turning his face back to the table.

“That is my job, sir.”

He whipped his head back at you again, but you only bowed at him politely, turning to walk out of his office when he started: “I still haven't scolded you for lying to me.”

Raising your head from your bow, you looked at him with worried eyes. “Lied to you, sir?”

He scoffed. “You lying about having a boyfriend was not the best move. Even if it is a white lie, I don't want any of it in my office. Nor in this company.”

You nodded, fully aware and guilty. You saw this coming sooner or later.

“And,” he started, giving you a side-look. “You plan on getting married?”

Holding back your breath, you knew you could reply to him truthfully. “No. Definitely not anytime soon anyway. As you know, it is a pricey matter.”

“Well, if you keep up the good work here, you might be able to save some money for such occasion,” he replied, his poker face giving you a slight unease. “Besides, I'm sure your handsome boyfriend would earn loads with that face of his.”

To that, you did not want to reply. Baekhyun, indeed, was a handsome man. This was a fact ever since you got to really know him back in the high school days, when he already graduated but still would sometimes visit your school for physical work around the building. The girls would be drooling and swooning in the big hallway windows during break, but he saved his handsome boyish smiles only for you, always giving you a wink that would swoosh away the unwanted company of other girls.

When your boss realised he wouldn't get an answer from you, he ended the conversation on a very straight-forward note. “Whatever. Just don't get pregnant with him. Or anyone. No pregnancy in this company.”

It has been a few weeks later that the battle with the rollercoaster of your emotions had gone downward. There were still no direct signs of a small human being inside of you, but oh my goodness, were your hormones and emotions acting up. Tired of constantly puking your guts out on the morning, then rushing to work, dealing with the moody bastard of a boss, being either desperate for Baekhyun's touch or just plain hating his presence in the same room was driving you up the wall.

Countless times you ended up bawling your eyes out in the bathroom in your work, or in the shower at home, because you didn't see a way out of this. Plus, the stress of accidentally revealing your pregnancy even to the ever-so-kind Sukyeong left you with a heavy soul. You needed to talk to someone of your age, you needed some help but your own independent self couldn't as much as think of such an option.

Another issue was scaring Baekhyun away from you and him leaving you alone in this mess that HE created… No, scratch that. Your slight change in weight made you feel so utterly unattractive that you were trying not to physically shudder whenever he complimented you about your looks. And the poor boy hadn't even a clue about your internal turmoil.

You sighed.

“You look freaking gorgeous, love.”

He said it again. And he meant it, he honestly did. You saw it in his eyes.

Being now almost past the first trimester, you and Baekhyun were both dressing up for your scheduled ultrasound at the doctor's. Although you were a bit nervous, you were thankful Baekhyun was always there throughout each check-up you had. And yet, here you were pissed at him, but you said nothing.

“Are you alright?” he asked you carefully, knowing how your mood could change within a nanosecond. He came closer to you as you were standing in front of the mirror you had in your tiny bedroom.

Swallowing harshly, you nodded, but did not look into his eyes. Ever so gently, through your tight dress, you saw a gentle baby bump. It could easily be covered up (and you did passionately cover it up for work) but it was there. Solid. A prove that it was real.

“Do we want to know the gender, honey?” asked Baekhyun gently, as he made another step closer to you and he let his hands hold your hips before his wide palms ever-so slowly slid over your stomach where he let them rest. Then his chin came resting on your shoulder as he turned his face to give you a gentle kiss to your neck.

You heart-rate picked up and it wasn't because of the high blood pressure you had been experiencing recently. “I don't know,” you whispered looking at him through the reflection in the mirror, “do we?”

This topic has been on your mind for the longest time. Do you want to be surprised? Or do you want to be prepared? Surely, in the nature of the village life, the answer would be an immediate: yes, we do want to know. Poor villagers always wanted certainty, and it was only understandable. But maybe this unpredictable city life of Seoul made you more adventurous. You might have not wanted to know.

He hummed, the vibrations in his chest sending electric shocks down your spine, causing you to squirm in his arms. He let out an amused laugh through his nose before he whispered into your ear: “So sensitive, my love.”

“You fucking tease,” you glowered, but leaned back into him.

He gasped softly and squeezed your body. “Now there, sweet cheeks, we do not swear with a baby inside of you.”

“Then stop teasing, love” you snapped back and he laughed now with an open mouth. “You know exactly what you are doing. You're sneaky.”

“Sure I am. You know me, hun. And now back to the point,” he emphasized, and you rolled your eyes but smiled anyways. “I don't mind if we get surprised. But if you want the gender to be revealed, I am supporting that as well.”

You nodded as you held his hands on your belly, letting your fingers caress the top of his knuckles. “Alright,” you said, nodding. “I think I will, ehm, see how I feel once we are there?”

He hummed in approval before he turned his head again, waiting for you to turn your face to see him. So you did. And then he gave you the sweetest smile of support before he leaned in and gave you a breathtaking kiss, ending it with a loud smack. “Shall we go then?”

Usually it was always an uncomfortable experience to sit in the waiting room of your doctor with other pregnant ladies. When you weren't pregnant, you felt so out of place, despite you having an active lovemaking life. That was why you were sitting there, right? Even at those times, Baekhyun was going with you, just because he wanted to be responsible and also to support you. He knew how much the village ladies didn't go for regular check-ups.

So now, sitting there with your tiny belly as your hands were intertwined with your boyfriend, it was a completely different feeling. You were still shy to as much as lie on that stupid chair, let alone spread your legs in front of a stranger - even though it was a woman and a doctor. But now it just felt right. You were eager. Excited. Happy. Curious. And Baekhyun felt your excitement as your knee was bouncing up and down. He was excited as well. The sparkle in his eyes was proving it.

Once finally inside, you both took a seat opposite your doctor, who gifted you with a kind smile as she also took a seat and skimmed through your papers. “The lovely couple I could never forget,” she noted, briefly looking at you and Baekhyun before diving back into your records. “And the unplanned baby. So!” she exclaimed, folding quickly the papers before she rested her laced hands down on the table. “Any abnormalities?” she looked at you, obviously expecting you to answer her questions.

Squeezing Baekhyun's hand under the table, you shrugged, not sure if what you were about to say was an abnormality. “Crazy mood swings. Emotions are a mess. Throwing up is still on, but thankfully not so often… And my boobs hurt,” you mumbled the last sentence, looking at your hand engulfed in Baekhyun's, a slight blush creeping up your cheeks. This time Baekhyun squeezed your hand, although you didn't notice the affectionate look he sent your way. You dared to look up when you heard the doctor laugh.

“Those are all completely normal signs. Is your blood pressure still acting up?” she asked and as she was waiting for your reply she turned in her chair and grabbed the little machine. “I will check it now.”

You nodded but Baekhyun answered for you. “She had a couple of dizzy moments, but it wasn't as severe.”

The doctor nodded and checked you up, writing down the final results. “It's normal today. But if it will get too high, you need to go to the hospital. You know that, right?”

Not the happiest with her advice, you nodded.

“Good,” she replied cheerfully. “Any questions before we start the ultrasound?”

You were just about to shake your head when your boyfriend cleared his throat, stopping you from doing the action. You gave him a wary look, and he squeezed your hand again when he spoke: “How is it with, eh, sex? As the baby is growing, we are not sure how far we can go or if we should even do it. And I wouldn't want to hurt my girlfriend or the baby...” he trailed off, his ears growing pink. You felt your heart swell with love for him as you smiled like a little high school student.

“Oh my god, please do have sex,” replied your doctor, her eyes worried as she gestured with her hand to you. “She might not be showing it, but the sexual frustration can get out of hand, to put it nicely,” she continued, her stance confident. “Paying attention to your pregnant lady is very important in every phase of pregnancy and it is completely safe. Of course, around the due date you might want to be more careful, however it does not necessarily affect the baby in any way, so there is no need to worry, Baekhyun. It is more than healthy,” she laughed loudly, making you and Baekhyun giggle in the meantime.

“Any more questions? No? Good! Then let's get to it,” she clapped her hands, swiftly getting up from her chair and walking to the bed where you lied down, now familiar with the process. Baekhyun was sitting on a chair just where your head was, and he ran his fingers through your hair, giving you a reassuring smile while you tried not wince at the cold gel touching your hot skin covering your stomach.

“So do we want to find out the gender?” she asked as she spread the gel evenly, now digging into your tummy while she was already looking at the screen.

You contemplated quickly but before you could answer the doctor cut through: “Or do you want to know how many babies you would have?” she asked, but her voice was light but a bit unfocused as she stared at the screen.

Not seeing Baekhyun's frown, he asked: “What do you mean?”

It was silent for a little longer, your doctor going through the same trail on your belly again, probably to double check whatever she saw there. Letting out a tiny laugh, she turned to look at your puzzled looks. “Well, this is fantastic!” she exclaimed and for some strange reason you had a feeling this might not be the best news, nor the news you were expecting when you were coming there. So when she uttered the next words, you felt your world crumbling down on you, and this time you could be sure Baekhyun wasn't as confident either. “You are expecting triplets!”

#baekhyun scenario #baekhyun fanfiction #baekhyun fanfic #baekhyun imagine #baekhyun au #exo scenario #exo au #baekhyun fluff #kpop fluff #kpop au #kpop scenario #mywritings

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littlemisswolfie · 3 years

Text

Hope That You Fall In Love (And It Hurts So Bad) Part II

<Part I

Here’s part two! There was actually a much larger gap between these updates on ao3 since I just now remembered to post part one here today, so don’t expect part three to come any time too soon. Hope y’all enjoy!

If you have sensitive triggers, follow the ao3 link and read the end notes. I wasn’t personally triggered by anything I wrote, but I have no idea what triggers my readers, and your safety is paramount, so I may have over-warned.

AO3

Langa doesn’t feel anything about moving back to Japan.

He doesn’t feel anything in general, anymore. He knows he should feel something. This is the country he was created in, where he was tortured and trained before he could speak, where he met his mom for the first time in the hospital ward of his prison. But Japan isn’t really anything to him. It’s not a nightmare, because Okinawa, with its sun and warmth, is nothing like Teiko’s stale, cold walls, but it’s not home, because home is Canada, is mountains and snow and Canada Day fireworks and his dad.

He puts the letter his dad wrote him—still unopened—in the back of his sock drawer.

Okinawa isn’t anything.

Langa isn’t anything.

“Do you want to meet them?” his mom asks, a few days after they move into their small apartment.

She doesn’t have to clarify who “them” are. “No,” he says. “I never knew them well. They probably don’t remember me.”

The Miracles are all adults. They have families, lovers, jobs and friends and lives. Langa doesn't have anything to say to people he hasn’t seen in ten years, and they wouldn’t benefit from knowing he’s alive, so he doesn’t care.

High school isn’t compulsory in Japan, but he attends anyway, because he knows it will make his mom happy. She has enough on her plate, with a new job and having to make new friends, so he has to make this transition as easy as possible for her.

She’s given up enough for him already.

Sitting at his new desk at his new school with his classmates all pretending not to stare at him, he decides to get a part time job.

He’s on edge the entire time he’s sitting across from Sakurayashiki. He knows, logically, that a lot of people in Japan have started dying their hair to support the Miracles, so this grown man who has an affinity for technology having pink hair doesn’t necessarily mean he’s a Pink Two, especially since Pink Twos were predominantly designed female and his eyes are gold instead of pink, but he still hates the idea.

He’s not GI-B423 anymore. He doesn’t want to be associated with Teiko.

When Sakurayashiki rejects his job application, he’s kind of relieved.

He leaves the calligraphy studio and meets Kyan Reki.

Reki is everything Langa isn’t. He’s bright and happy and loud.

Back in Canada, people like this used to annoy Langa. Too noisy, too close, too much. But Reki is never overwhelming. He’s excited, like a puppy, and he’s genuine. Langa can’t help but be drawn into his orbit, like he’s a planet and Reki is the sun.

Ah, he thinks, in that part of his mind that never really left Teiko. He’s mine.

He lets Reki chatter in his ear about skateboarding and watches him work in his workshop and is—not happy, but content, for the first time since his dad got sick.

Skateboarding at S isn’t exactly what awakens that thrill Langa has always craved. It’s similar enough to snowboarding that Langa can let his body take over for a majority of the beef, so that certainly helps, but it’s not the thing.

The thing is the unpredictability.

He should probably feel concerned about that, about how the danger makes his heart race, how Shadow’s aggressiveness thrills him to his bones. It’s a Teiko thing, so he shouldn’t enjoy it, but he does.

“How did you do that?” Reki asks him later as he helps Langa peel the duct tape from his feet. “That was crazy, man!” His eyes are shining, and Langa thinks, I did that.

“I used to snowboard,” he says, instead of I was genetically engineered and trained for the first five years of my life to be an assassin but I never developed my powers.

Reki grins. “This is gonna be so awesome.”

Langa learns how to skateboard fast.

When Reki comments on how quick he’s learning, he gives his teaching all the credit, even though he knows it’s not exactly true. His mom doesn’t tell him much about how Teiko designed him, but he can read between the lines. He’s never had to work as hard to learn new things as the kids around him, particularly if they had a physical element. He’s more observant than usual, and it’s harder to scare him than it should be.

He could easily make up some other excuse, like his past in snowboarding, but the way Reki’s face lights up when Langa compliments him is too good to pass up.

His mother has never been good at hiding her emotions, which Langa finds more than a little ironic, considering she came to be his mom by working in a secret lab.

After the absolute roller coaster of emotions he sees on her face when she brings up the scrapes he’s been getting from skating, he takes pity on her and tells her what he’s been getting up to. The smile she gives him in response is one he hasn’t seen on her in a long time.

“Oh, baby,” she says, actual tears in the corners of her eyes, “I’m glad you found such a good friend.”

Reki’s friendship isn’t limited to skating.

Langa, privately, would have been content even if it were. It would only mean he spent more time skating than he usually would. But Reki seems to genuinely enjoy spending time with him. He gets Langa to do his English homework for him in return for writing out Langa’s notes and homework in his neater handwriting, they spend their lunches together on the rooftop, Reki gets him a job at Dope Sketch, and, well…

They’re just always together.

Even better, Reki is a very touchy person. It’s unconscious, most of the time, like he can’t help it. A brush against his arm here, a nudge at his side there, an arm thrown around his shoulders while they walk together.

The contact makes him feel alive.

He beats Miya, but only just barely. Miya has years more experience than him, and it’s only due to his unconventional skating that he gets the upper hand. The idea of losing… it’s just—unacceptable. Because losing means scrapping. Losing means death.

The way Miya reacts to the loss reminds him of Teiko, so he says, “I had fun. Let’s skate again,” to make that terrified expression disappear. And then Reki starts messing with him, teasing him like an affectionate older brother, and, for a moment, it seems like the night will end there, without any additional fuss.

But then Adam shows up.

Adam, even with his blue hair and eyes hidden behind a mask, reminds Langa of a Red Zero. He’s obviously a man used to getting his own way, and that silky smooth tone in his voice when he make innocuous little statements belies the ugly nature underneath. He’s a sociopath. The only reason he knows he’s not a Red Zero with dyed hair is that he feels no compulsion to do what he says. In fact, he feels nothing—

Until he insults Reki and Miya.

“Hey,” Reki says, sounding angry, which Langa has never heard before, “take what you said back.”

Adam, who was about to touch Langa’s leg, straightens, a dangerous smile on his lips. “And what if I said I wouldn’t?”

If Langa were better with his words, he would warn Reki. No, he would say, he’s too dangerous, it’s too risky for you, but he can’t find his voice to say it, so Reki kicks up his board and challenges Adam to a beef.

“Sorry about that,” Reki says, later, as they skate home from Crazy Rock. “Betting you, I mean.”

“It’s fine,” says Langa, because he can’t say that means I’m yours to bet without making this whole situation even more strange than it already is.

They run into Joe at a ramen shop the next day. His green hair sets Langa off a little again, but Joe is nothing like a Green Seven, so he forces himself to relax a little and listen to the older man’s advice.

“When did you start dyeing your hair?” Langa asks when Joe stands up to leave.

Reki and Joe both startle a little at the question, like they hadn’t expected him to say anything about it. “Well, me and Cherry were in high school when that Special Diet happened, so we dyed our hair out of support, and I guess the colors just kinda stuck.”

“Man,” Reki says, leaning forward onto the counter after Joe leaves. “It’s so weird to think about the Miracles as adults, y’know? They’re not in the news very much anymore.”

“The Yellow is,” Langa says.

“‘Yellow?’” Reki looks confused.

“Oh, sorry, ‘yellow.’ I used the English word on accident.”

“Oh, cool. Sometimes I think about your shitty handwriting and forget you’re bilingual.” Reki gives him a friendly poke in the side. “But, yeah, that yellow one’s a model, right? Of course he’d be in the news every once in a while. Oh, plus the red one’s adopted father has been petitioning for same-sex marriage to be legalized in Japan for a while now, so I guess you hear about him sometimes, huh? When did you start dyeing your hair?”

“I’ve never dyed it,” Langa says, looking down at the empty bowl in front of him. “My hair has always been this color.”

“Huh. Weird.” Reki shrugs and reaches into his pocket to pull his wallet out. “Joe was trying to be nice, but we still gotta pay.”

Langa’s grateful for the end of the conversation. He knows he’ll have to tell Reki someday, if they remain friends, but the longer he can put it off, the better.

Miya drags them and Shadow out to Crazy Rock for some practical training. It hurts to see Reki so frustrated with his own abilities when Langa knows how good he is. Reki shouldn’t be measuring himself up against people like him, who have superhuman gifts, or Miya, who trains as much as he’s in school to make the national team, or Shadow and Joe and Cherry, who are all adults and have been skating for so much longer than he has.

Someday, Reki, Langa thinks, someday you’ll realize how special you are.

Langa skates down a little further to grab Reki’s board when it gets away from him to let Reki rest a little, and tries to do the Love Hug Miya mentioned. Reki is quick to reassure him that there’s no way to actually go uphill, but Langa still feels uneasy.

He knows there’s a way. There has to be. He just hasn’t figured it out yet.

At least he gets to go to A&W afterwards. He’s been missing poutine.

Langa wishes there was something he could say that would help Reki when he picks him up for the beef.

Your worth isn’t determined by skateboarding.

Don’t be discouraged if you lose.

Please be careful.

But none of those things would be helpful. Not really. Even if he could say them in Japanese the way he wants to in English, they would still sound condescending, like Langa didn’t believe in him.

So he says nothing.

Adam does the Love Hug.

Reki goes flying.

Langa sees red.

“I can finally skate with you,” Adam says, sounding enthralled, almost orgasmic, and the only thing Langa can think about is how easy it would be to kill him for what he did to Reki. It wouldn’t take much. Just enough pressure on the throat. A fall off Crazy Rock. A sharp stone to the jugular or the temple. Langa could make it look like an accident, he’s sure. He got more than enough training to do that much on a small scale like this. And even if he did get caught, hey, at least he would have had revenge for injuring Reki.

But Reki is still alive. Reki needs a hospital more than he needs Langa to kill Adam.

He’ll get his revenge in a beef.

“Please,” Reki says, over and over again. “Don’t race against Adam.”

“I’m going to do it, Reki,” Langa says, just this side of a snap. “Stop trying to convince me otherwise.”

“Look, I appreciate it if you’re pissed about my injury—” And oh, he is, he hates seeing Reki’s arm in that cast, he hates that he had to wait in a hospital again when he last time he had to do that his dad was dying— “but Adam’s really on a whole ‘nother level. You’re crazy good, dude, but he’s just crazy.”

“I’m doing it.” He takes a large bite out of his sandwich, and it must be aggressive enough, because Reki backs off, at least for now.

“Mom?” Langa says over dinner that night, one of her few nights off from the hospital.

She’s at attention immediately, which Langa feels a little guilty about. He knows he really shut her out after his dad died, and now every time he speaks, she acts like she’s never heard his voice before. “Yes, honey? What is it?”

“What—” He takes a deep breath, in through the nose, out through the mouth. “What all did Teiko give me?”

Her eyes harden in a way they so rarely do that it catches Langa off guard. “Nothing,” she says, vicious. “They didn’t give you anything, baby. They gave you nightmares and trauma, and that’s it.”

“There were files!” Langa says, voice raising. He didn’t mean to do that, but it’s happening now, so he has to let it go. “There must have been! And you were a nurse, so you had to have seen them!”

His mom slams her hands down on the table. “That is enough,” she says. “I’ve had a long day, and I’m not talking about this right now.” She stands up, clears her plate, and stomps into her room, closing the door behind her.

Langa groans, pushes his hair out of his face, and grabs his skateboard.

He, Reki, Shadow, Miya, and Cherry take over Joe’s Italian restaurant later that night, and as Langa watches Cherry demonstrate how the Love Hug works, something clicks in his brain.

I can do this, he thinks. I can beat the Love Hug.

“I’m beggin’ ya,” Reki says, one final time, “don’t skate against Adam.”

“Even if I get injured, I won’t quit skateboarding,” Langa says, but what he wants to say is, I won’t leave your side.

He feels Reki’s fist against his chest the whole ride home.

Skating against Adam is—

Langa hates to admit it, but it’s that adrenaline rush he’s been craving. Adam defies logic in every way possible when he skates, and it keeps Langa on his toes. Skating with Reki brings that easy warmth he got on the bunny slopes with his parents as a child, but Adam is electric, dangerous, and everything that Teiko side relishes in.

“It seems that you’re the same type of person as myself,” Adam says, wonder in his voice, and Langa hates himself for not being able to deny it.

And then he jumps over the Love Hug, and his heart soars, and he thinks Reki, did you see that?

“What happened to the promise that you wouldn’t be reckless?” Reki asks after they evade the cops, out by the water. He sounds… he’s not angry, or scared, or worried. His tone of voice is resigned, like he never should have expected Langa to be careful.

“Sorry,” Langa says, but he’s not, and he knows Reki can hear it.

He knows he can’t ask his mom for permission to go on this trip without making up with her first, so a few nights after his beef with Adam, he knocks on her bedroom door. “Can I come in?”

He hears the sheets rustle, hears her sigh, and then she says, “Come in.”

He sits on the side of her bed, his back brushing against her legs. “I’m sorry I upset you the other night,” he says, his words halting. Even in English, he can never express himself the way he wants to. “It’s just—things have been getting intense, where Reki and I skate, and I was wondering how much of that was because of Teiko.”

She sighs again, and puts her hand on his shoulder. “No, I shouldn’t have gotten mad at you,” she says. “You have every right to wonder. I just hate talking about that place. You’re not what they made you to be, baby.”

“‘Cause I never developed my powers.” He’s sour about that, and he shouldn’t be. It’s easier, pretending to be human when you don’t have superpowers, but he heard all about the Miracle Black Four during the Special Diet, about how he used his powers for years to orchestrate their escape, and he’s jealous. He was engineered to do exactly what Kuroko Tetsuya did, and his stupid body never figured it out.

“Black Fours were doomed from the start.” His mom is trying to be reassuring, he knows, but that’s not really helpful. “GM-B452 was an outlier. In the eight generations between him and you, the scientists were no closer to getting true invisibility to manifest. Infinity was the last generation they were going to produce Black Fours, anyway.”

He’d never heard that before. “Really?”

His mom nods. “Really. They were just going to add the power to the Silvers, instead.”

“What else did my files say?” he asks.

She looks uncomfortable. “Langa, a lot of this stuff—it’s not good, honey. Reading your files when I started made me sick. They knew exactly how tall you were going to be, your projected adult weight, they—” She breaks off, wiping welling wetness from her eyes. “If you weren’t a Failure, and you survived to adulthood, they were going to breed you, baby, with the Pink Two, and the White Ten, if she survived. They predicted which Projects you would find sexual gratification with.”

Langa feels sick, just like his mom said he would. He was—he was a baby, barely a toddler when he and his mom left Japan. These scientists were thinking about his sex life before he knew what sex was. “Why?” he croaks.

“They didn’t see you as human, baby. None of you. You were lab rats with rocket launchers, for all they cared. Only as useful as they money they could make off of you.” Her eyes sharpen. “You said things were getting ‘intense’ with skating. How?”

“Reki was injured during a race,” Langa says, because he figures that all her honesty deserves some honesty out of him. “And I—the guy he was racing against, I wanted to hurt him. I thought of all the ways I could make it look like an accident. But then, a few nights ago, I raced him, and I felt…” He trails off. How can he describe that feeling to his mom without making it seem sexual? “It was like I was flying,” he settles on. “Like, nothing could touch me. I was doing exactly what I was meant to be doing. Even though I knew he could hurt me, really, really badly, even though we were going sixty kilometers per hour down his track with no fences to keep us from toppling over the edge, even though he kept touching me…” Thinking back on it now, he feels a little sick to his stomach again, especially when he sees the look on his mom’s face.

“This guy,” his mom says, voice serious, “is he a teenager? Or is he an adult?”

“An adult.”

“Langa, baby, I know I can’t stop you from sneaking out at night and doing these races,” she says, hands clasping his, “because I know you can always find another way of getting out if I try to stop you, but if this man ever touches you again without your consent, or if he touches any of the other kids you hang out with without their consent, I want you to tell me, okay? It’s not right.”

“Okay,” Langa says, and he knows this is a promise he’ll have to keep. “But—the adrenaline thing, is that—”

“Teiko designed that, yes,” his mom nods. “They didn’t want any of you cracking under pressure, so they modified your brain to send out more adrenaline.” She smiles, a tad sad. “You were always the biggest adrenaline junkie, though. You tried to do everything dangerous you saw the other Projects do during training, even though you weren’t made for full-on combat. It got you in a lot of trouble.”

Langa rubs at his wrists as the phantom pains flare up again. “That I remember.” Then, remembering the whole reason he came in here in the first place, he says, “A friend of mine and Reki’s says hot springs are a good, natural healing thing, so he got us tickets to Miyakojima this weekend. Is it okay with you if I go?”

“As long as you have an adult with you,” she says, and Langa perks up, because he knows just the adult.

Reki wants to drag him out shopping, because “I can’t believe you don’t have a swimsuit, man, we’re going to the beach, you need a swimsuit.”

“Reki,” he says, panicking a little, because if his trunks ride up everyone will see, see the brand on his thigh, they’ll know he’s GI-B423— “Reki, I can’t swim.”

Reki gives him an incredulous look. “You’re seventeen and you don’t know how to swim?”

“I lived near the mountains my whole life,” Langa retorts, and, yes, this is good, he can needle back and forth with Reki all day long.

Reki groans. “Fine, then,” he huffs, though Langa knows he doesn’t mean it. “But it’ll be hot, so make sure you dress for the weather, okay?”

“Yes, Mom,” Langa teases, just to see Reki’s face heat up.

There’s a girl, on the ferry.

She’s pretty, in a distant kind of way. She’s not movie-star beautiful, but her hair is long and silky, and her dress compliments her figure. There is, all in all, nothing off about her.

But.

Reki is staring at her.

Langa feels something ugly twisting in his gut. It reminds him of how he felt when Adam hurt Reki, this overwhelming urge to eliminate, to take Reki away from this threat—

Wait, threat? This girl is normal. Nothing about her conveys any sort of physical advantage or ulterior motive. She’s just a girl, on vacation.

But Reki is staring at her. He’s blushing.

This girl could take Reki away from him.

It’s a relief when she brushes right by them. If she did try to take Reki, Langa couldn’t guarantee her safety.

Reki would forgive him.

Probably.

The beach is beautiful, Langa decides, laying under the umbrella while the others play in the sea. He wishes he could be out there with them, but he knows better; his secret is more important than a little bit of fun.

Someday, he promises himself, letting his hands linger a little too long on Reki’s shoulders while they’re teasing Shadow. Someday I’ll tell them.

Just not today.

Sitting around the fancy inn Cherry’s staying at, and thinking about his conversation with his mom, Langa sneaks out of the large room where they ate dinner while the adults bicker. He finds a small courtyard with patrons milling around, settles himself on the deck, and tries to picture himself becoming invisible.

It’s risky, he knows; Teiko Projects glow when they use their powers, so if he is successful, someone could notice. But he’s not actually expecting to be successful, at least not in the psychic capacity. He never was before.

Langa knows he stands out in a crowd. He’s tall for Japan, and his hair and eyes always make people assume he’s a Miracle. It doesn’t take long for people to start glancing at him out of the corner of their eyes, and Langa picks one, an old man wearing a green patterned yukata, leaning heavily against a wooden cane and not even trying to pretend he’s not staring at him, and focuses on not being visible.

How the fuck do I not be visible?

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. What was it the Black Miracle said during the Special Diet? I can only make someone temporarily forget my own presence. Is that the key? It’s less invisibility and more induced amnesia? God, the other Projects in his Generation used to make it look so easy. One second they’d be standing still, and the next they were glowing all sorts of bright colors and doing what they were made to do.

He doesn’t think about the other members of his Generation often, so the thought comes as a surprise to him. For just a moment, he lets himself imagine what they would be like, if they’d also been freed like Langa was.

The moment is brief. Dwelling on those things only made Langa’s heart ache.

He crosses his arms across his knees, digging his blunt nails into the skin by his elbows, and thinks of the man he picked earlier. Don’t look at me, he thinks, screwing his eyes shut. You don’t see me. I’m not here.

Then, after a moment, he lifts his eyes, and he bites back a gasp, because the forearm in front of his face is surrounded by a faint black outline. It’s not a brilliant glow, like a Yellow or and Orange, but it’s there. His eyes dart back up to the old man with the cane, and he looks dazed, almost confused, like he’s wondering what he was looking at.

He’s doing it. He’s doing it!

In his excitement, he loses focus, and the faint outline fades, but it was there. He isn’t useless like he always thought.

He’s a success. A little bit, at least.

He has to try again. He picks another person, a mother cradling her baby, and tries to recall that feeling, the one right before he noticed the outline. It was almost like… desperation. He was desperate to manifest the powers he was designed with. Desperate to prove himself worthy of…

Of what? The approval of Teiko, a company that doesn’t exist anymore? The approval of the scientists, who didn’t see him as human and thought about his future sex life when he was a baby? The respect of his fellow Projects, most of whom are dead?

The approval of himself?

The desire to try it out again fades. God, what is he doing? He’s never felt inclined to use his powers before, so why now? He should be glad he never developed them. Living in human society is hard enough with his hair and eyes; living in Japan is hard enough with his height and his terrible handwriting and his Canadian habits that contradict Japanese ones. Not having powers, not standing out even more than he already does, should be a blessing.

He thinks about the letter his dad wrote him, still unsealed, in his bedside drawer.

He stands up, brushes his pants off, and wanders back to the group. They’re probably wondering where he is, by now, and he doubts he can use the bathroom excuse again.

Langa knows pretty much right away that the things chasing him and Reki are just normal people covered in mud. Even the overpowering stench of the muck can’t hide that from his senses. But he doesn’t really have any concrete way of expressing this to Reki without hinting at what he is, so he goes along with it, and runs with Reki.

It’s the same kind of rush, skating away from an opponent on a rough course like this, only now, he has Reki with him. Reki’s right next to him, keeping up to him even when Langa’s being serious about the whole ordeal, and keeping a level head when Langa turns around to admire their pursuer’s skateboarding skills.

Then the thing starts poking Reki’s leg with his stick, and Langa sees red. How dare this worthless human touch Reki like that? How dare they try to knock him off his skateboard, when he last time he bailed, he ended up in the emergency room? He’d like to knock them right off Shadow’s skateboard, but this time, he’s close enough to catch Reki when he falls, so he does.

The weight of Reki in his arms feels right. It feels inevitable, like he was built to hold him. He can feel Reki’s quick breathing, can practically hear his heart beating in his chest, and it makes him think about other activities that could cause that—

But this is no time for that. Not when they’re being chased, not when Langa doesn’t even know if Reki likes boys the way he likes girls.

“How did you two manage to not get covered in mud yesterday?” Shadow asks them the next morning on the ferry back to Okinawa. He, Cherry, and Joe are all still complaining about the smell they couldn’t wash off last night.

Joe sniffs at his hand and winces. “Did that ghost thing not chase you?”

Reki goes as stiff as a board next to Langa. “That wasn’t a ghost!”

“Well, what was it, then?” Shadow asks.

Langa eyes a poster about a festival about covering people in mud to protect them from evil spirits out of the corner of his eye and says, “Who knows?” If none of the adults can figure it out, that’s on them. He’ll tell Reki about it later.

“Mom?” Langa asks when he gets home after dropping Reki off at his house.

His mom looks up from the movie she’s watching on the couch. “Oh! Welcome home, baby. Did you have a fun trip?”

But he’s not in the mood for pleasantries. “Did Teiko make me gay?” The word falls from his lips and it burns, like he’s said something shameful. Being gay isn’t a big deal in Canada, at least not anymore, and Langa has always absently supported LGTBQ rights in a distant way that made him think he was probably straight after all and just hadn’t found a girl he liked, but this trip…

“Oh, sweetie.” His mom opens her arms and he falls into them like a child. “Before I answer, what brought this on?”

“I just—you said they had a breeding plan, so I know I’m not sterile, but I’ve never been interested in girls.”

“Is that all?”

Langa presses his face further into her shoulder and says nothing.

“Langa, do you remember what I told you when I took you from Teiko?”

“You—you said you were my mom, and that meant you would love me and take care of me for the rest of your life.”

She hums affirmatively, stroking his hair with her gentle fingers. “That love is unconditional. No matter what you do, I’ll love you just the same. That’s how moms work, honey. So, if there’s anything else you want to tell me, you don’t have to be scared.”

Langa opens his mouth. Closes it. Licks his lips and tries again. “I love him, Mom,” he says, the words soft, like a whisper, like a secret. “I love Reki.”

Her smile is in her voice when she says, “Thank you for trusting me with that, honey. I can tell he makes you really happy.”

“We’re not—together,” Langa interjects. “He—he likes girls, and I don’t know if he likes boys, too. He doesn’t know how I feel.”

“You’ll never know if you don’t take that risk.”

“But it’s a big risk. If he doesn’t like me, I might lose him forever.” The mere thought of not having Reki in his life anymore makes tears gather in his eyes. “I couldn’t do it.” He takes a deep, shuddering breath, and asks again. “Did Teiko make me gay?”

“Yes,” his mom says, simply. “They knew you would eventually interact with humans, and they didn’t want undesirable offspring. But, Langa,” she continues, cupping his chin and raising his head so their eyes would meet. “They didn’t design you to fall in love with Reki. They didn’t think you could love. You loving Reki is all you, baby. Never doubt that.”

“Do you think— Would Dad—?”

“Your father would have adored Reki,” she says, and the weight that falls from his chest makes him gasp. “Reki sounds so much like him, in the best possible ways. They’re cut from the same cloth. And he would have loved you just the same way as always.”

Langa falls asleep like that, in the same clothes he traveled in, curled up in his mother’s lap like a child. His last thought before he drifts off is that letter he still hasn’t opened.

One day, he says. I don’t want to say goodbye yet.

#designation:miracle #sk8: the infinity #langa hasegawa #nanako hasegawa #reki kyan #kojiro nanjo #kaoru sakurayashiki #sk8 hiromi #miya chinen #renga #ao3fic #my writing #my post #mine

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extremelyblackandwhite · 4 years

Text

the light in the piazza

pairing: bucky barnes x reader

warnings: love at first sight trope

summary: sergeant james barnes of the 107th meets a woman in while stationing in florence. inspired by the song the light in the piazza

I don’t see a miracle shining from the stars, I’m no good at statues and stories, I try. That’s not what I think about, that’s not what I see, I know what the sunlight can be ...

Wishing, wishing is a funny thing. When you wish for something you always think of the end goal of your wish, you never wonder how the universe will grant you your wish, in what conditions. It is not like you wish upon a star with a whole essay and plan of how your wish should be given, you just wish for it. Some wish for love, some wish for fame, for glory and riches, but no one wishes for something in a specific way that won’t guarantee the bittersweet hand of the universe.

James had been the most recent victim of wishing carelessly. In this case, James wanted to travel, wanted to leave Brooklyn and see those places that were somehow always plastered in the highly stylised adverts stuck of the walls of his dead beat neighbourhood. He left Brooklyn, he had travelled. He had seen England, Ireland, Scotland and most recently Italy. The consequence? War. Suddenly, all those dreams of becoming the man in the airplane drinking expensive champagne and travelling to European dream lands were misshaped into flying in army airplanes and going to camps where hope was something that had begun to disappear.

The Italian base camp was no different. The soldiers were tired, those with wives and families only mumbled their names at times, the single ones had began to get tired of the nurses and girls that would come to entertain and help the tropes and those who had someone waiting for them back home had started to believe it was time to say goodbye. Hope was running low, but not for the Howling Commandos. No. Their motto was ‘as long as there’s a bar and you get to sleep another night, there’s hope’, but James was starting to lose hope.

Today however was the day James lived by. Free day. They got to do whatever they pleased, whenever they pleased. James used this day to go sight-seeing, grab some postcards from his sister and try and rejoice in the twisted wish that had been granted. Florence was no different, he was walking around the piazza del duomo, looking at the view and how stunning it was. He stopped by a small shop, looking at the painted small postcards, offering the clerk some money and turning to face the middle of the piazza to return to the camp until he saw a small straw hat with a green ribbon wrapped around it fly aimlessly in the wind. James carelessly grabbed it from the mid air, wondering where the owner was. The owner of the hat wasn’t far as he saw a girl rush through the crowd dressed in a fancy outfit. He had seen something similar in the fashion magazines his sister would bring home. The new look, if he remembered. Hers was a shade of sunny yellow with green accents which matched the ribbon on her hat.

She stopped in front of him, a look of uneasiness yet relief on her face. He finally could get a good look at her, along with the fancy and expensive dress, she had white gloves on adorned by a pearl bracelet on her right wrist with matching white lower pumps. Her hair was pinned back, showing the pearls on her ears and the camera hanging from a tan piece of fabric.

- Penso che ... uhm, I, how do you say ... cosa di testa? - James Barnes was a hundred per cent that he completely butchered the Italian language. Head thing? What was he thinking?

- You’re American? - the woman asked, noticing the slight Brooklyn accent in the middle of what was the worse Italian pronunciation she’d ever heard in her whole life.

- Oh god, you speak English. I have your hat. - he was nervous. Why? He did not know. He did not know why he was tongue tied in both Italian and English in front of the most polished woman he’d ever seen. She couldn’t be older than him, he actually thought she was even younger considering the lack of an engagement ring on her finger.

- Thank you so much. - she gave him the sunniest smile, sunnier than the dress she was wearing. James handed her the hat which she held with both hands in front of her abdomen. - My mother would kill me if I lost another hat.

- God thing I was here then. - god James sounded like Steve. That’s it, his power did not work outside of Brooklyn.

- I’m Y/N, by the way. - she extended one of her gloved hands and James wondered if his hands were good enough to hold what looked like the most softest piece of fabric he’d seen.

- James Barnes. - he shook her hand, a bit hypnotised with her. She had to be the prettiest woman he’d ever seen and he had some many women before.

- Are you a soldier? - she noticed the mossy green suit he was wearing.

- Sergeant, actually. We’re stationing here for a few days.

- Me and my mum are visiting. My dad is here on a business affairs and we thought to come and say hi.

- That’s a nice camera you got there. - suddenly he realised he was staring to intensely at her chest where her camera was resting. God, was he spastic? She pulled the tan string over her head, holding the camera with the hand he had just shook. - I, me and my friend Steve have this jar we put quarters in every single day to try and buy one of those.

- Do you wanna take a picture? Maybe to send home?

- Really? - his eyes lit up like a child during Christmas. - No, I don’t want you to waste your film on me.

- Well, you did save my hat so the least I can do is give you a free picture.

- No, I don’t even know how use it.

- It’s easy. - she handed him the camera, standing by her side. - You look at this little window and find something you wanna take a picture off, spool the window and press the silver button.

- Are you sure it’s okay? - he asked, looking at the scenery through the small window of the camera. He slightly shifted the camera to face her, catching her staring at the church in front of them and clicked the silver button, she flash making her slightly turn her face to the ground. - That’s a heavy piece of machinery.

- Dad says it’s the future of fil ...

- Y/N! - a much older woman dressed in a more fitted burgundy dress with a matching burgundy hat rushing towards them. - I’ve told you several times not to run off, what if someone kidnapped you? Or worse, robbed you?

- Mum, this is Sergeant Barnes, he saved my hat. This is my mother, Margaret.

- Oh thank you so much. Unfortunately, we have an appointment, I’m sorry we have to ...

- What appointment? - Y/N interrupted, returning the camera to its resting place against her chest while placing her hat on top of her perfectly brushed and pushed hair.

- Let’s go, Y/N. - her mother turned on her back, walking straight ahead expecting her daughter to follow. Y/N gave him an apologetic look, knowing how her mother was when her plans got ruined and when she talked with someone she did not deem worth their time and attention.

- Wait, Y/N ... - James carefully grabbed her wrist, as not to alarm her mother who was walking with a might. - Where are you staying? I’d love to take you for dinner.

- I’m staying at the Grand Hotel. Go through the back. - she smiled at him before rushing to follow her mother wherever she was going, an ever so slight blush settling on the apples of her cheeks.

Night couldn’t come earlier, the hours that once seemed like seconds took years to pass by but night eventually came and he found himself standing at the back of the Grand Hotel. It was a huge contrast to the front of the hotel, mostly filled with employees smoking or making out with the daughters of their clients. Speaking of which, he saw her come through the back door wearing a dress in the same shape as the yellow one except in a floral pattern, with a pink ribbon wrapped around her waist.

- Y/N. - he raised his hand calling for her attention. - You look beautiful.

- Thank you. We have two hours until my mother wakes up and realises I’m gone.

- I only need a hour ... Oh god why did I say that?

- I have your picture by the way. - she opened her little bag, searching through it to hand him a black and white slightly sepia coloured photo. He smiled at it for a few seconds, realising he was now one of those army soldiers who had a picture of a lady in their pockets the whole time. - Where are we going?

- I have no idea. - he started to walk the beautifully lit streets that made him forget they were in the middle of a war period. - So, Y/N, where do you live?

- Well, right now we’re in London but next year we’re in New York. It always depends on where dad has business.

- Hey, I’m in Brooklyn, maybe you could come and visit me. My mum makes the perfect Sunday dinner and my sister can be less annoying than she normally is when there’s guests.

- I’ve never had a Sunday dinner.

- What? No way, doll. Do rich people not eat dinner? Is that why you’re all so very rich?

- No, we normally have a very late supper with some hors d'oeuvres and wines.

- Well, you don’t know what you’re missing.

- I guess I’ll have to take you on that offer then.

- And you can meet Steve. He’s pretty scrawny but he has some fight left in him, probably would win the war if they allowed him.

PRESENT DAY (ENDGAME)

Bucky stood on the sidelines as he watched the funeral go through. He felt dirty, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t be watching the funeral of the person he caused the most pain to. The worse however was Steve, he knew what he was about to do, he knew what he was about to go to. Sam was a great guy but Sam was not enough to make Bucky want to stay.

His hands went to his pocket, taking the worn out picture he had gotten from the museum, the picture of her. The picture had grown old, so had him and so had she, but he could still remember it like it was yesterday. No one could steal that memory, the memory of her kissing his cheek goodbye before she got back to hotel, the memory of the sun hitting his skin when he took that picture.

- It’s been 80 years, Buck. Wanna tell me about her? - Steve patted him on the shoulder. Bucky just smirked, turning his head slightly to stare at him.

- No, I don’t think I will. - he used the same sentence Steve normally used when speaking about Peggy which always drove him off the wall.

- You should come.

- I don’t think the James that she’s expecting is me anymore.

- If it doesn’t work, you can always return. What else do you have to lose?

He stepped with Steve onto what he thought looked like something out of a sci-fi movie, his eyes still on her picture as they stood in New York. He knew where she lived, she had wrote to him a few times during the war so he knew where to find her. Steve gave him a sympathetic smile, hugging his friend before they went their way. He wondered what she’d think or how he was going to explain the metal arm or the hair.

James found himself standing in front of her home, fist coming to knock on the door. A slight commotion could be heard outside the door as the slight sound of heels was heard from inside the house. He thought about leaving, this was a bad idea, no, this was a terrible idea. As he was about to leave, the door opened. He saw her standing there, a blue dress on, hair free from any tight hair dos.

- James? - she questioned, recognising that face anywhere.

- Hi. - he didn’t know exactly what to tell her or how to say hi after all those years. The person he saw in his dreams at night was standing in front of him.

- You know, it’s extremely rude to leave a lady waiting so long. - she leaned against her door.

- My apologies. - just like that he was that hopeless soldier in Florence.

- Y/N, who is it? - a man dressed in a dapper suit joined her by the door.

- Oh, daddy, this is Sergeant Barnes, the soldier I spoke about.

- Oh, the hat guy. Come in, we’re having brunch and there’s always space for another one.

He took her hand, walking into her home.

Sometimes the universe puts you through one hell of a ride, but it eventually grants you your wish.

#sebastian stan #bucky barnes #sebastian stan x reader #bucky barnes x reader #bucky barnes/reader #sebastian stan/reader #sebastian stan imagine #bucky barnes imagine #sebastian stan drabble #bucky barnes drabble #bucky barnes fanfic

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horanghaechan · 4 years

Text

Wicked Games (Johnny) pt.1

pairing: Demon!Johnny x Dancer!You (female character)

word count: around 9k

synopsis: Oh, the things you do for money... NCT had a reputation: filthy rich and handsome. Their parties were known to be god tier and they used to pay extremely well to have girls dancing in them. However, when some weird rumours start to spread, all your colleagues backed out... But not you.

Inspired by Wicked Games - The Weeknd.

(Part 2/final here)

[a/n]: i actually had a side-blog once and posted it there but i got author’s block and deleted everything. anyway, i’m rather proud of this scenario so i decided to post it again lol ~ also, english is not my first language so any grammar/etc mistake please tell me!

Let me see you dance I love to watch you dance Take you down another level Get you dancing with the Devil Take a shot of this But I'm warning you I'm on that shit that you can't smell, baby So, put down your perfume (…) Listen, ma, I'll give you all of me Give me all of it, I need all of it to myself

Youngho opened the door to the main room and smiled. It wasn't the first time that everything went wrong, and probably wouldn't be the last. He pushed a wooden stool to the side and walked to Yuta, wondering exactly what had happened.

“The rumours about us are getting more and more frequent.”

“Humans.” He snorted. “And this is preventing the party from happening, I suppose?!”

“The strippers don’t want to come... I mean, except for one.”

“Oh.” Youngho smiled. “Why?”

“It seems that she doesn't believe in God, therefore, doesn't believe in us.” Yuta made a gesture with his hand, pointing to them. “Fortunately, she said she has four more friends that are willing to come, but we're going to have six less dancers.”

“Fuck it, bro. That's more than enough. We promised strippers, didn’t we?”

“You're right.” He nodded. “Well, I will report to Taeyong that we can still host the party.”

●●●

After receiving confirmation from her boss, Y/N entered the van with her friends. She didn't understand why the other girls had dropped out at the last minute… She would never do it, the payment was just too good to ignore. However, she was kinda happy that they did, because now she could receive their money instead.

“You know what they say about there, don't you?” Laura wondered.

“That it is a huge house full of billionaire, drop-dead gorgeous men.” She lifted an eyebrow.

“No, silly. About it being haunted!”

“Nonsense.” Y/N shook her hand. “This only exists for those who believe in it.”

“But a friend of mine was at a party there and said he saw some weird stuff...”

“Your friend was probably drugged and had a ‘bad trip’. Get over it, Lau.”

“You are so sceptical that it drives me crazy, Y/N!” Laura rolled her eyes.

“And you're too deluded, but that doesn't mean I lose my patience every time.”

Despite being best friends, Y/N found it hard sometimes to live with someone like Laura. You could hold her hand and say ‘Lau, the sky is black, actually. However, because of a curse, we are forced to believe it is blue.’, and the girl would (probably, 70% of chance) believe it. She was very naïve for 25-years-old woman; which made it all extremely worrying. 25-year-old girls were not so innocent. Y/N was 23 and she knew more than enough.

“How's uni, Y/N?” Inez, another friend of them, changed topics in order to calm down the mood.

“Good, as far as the last semester can be. And yours?”

“Dentistry is wonderful, I couldn't be more pleased!”

“You can ask me too, Inez.” Pelinsu, the youngest of the group, raised her hand as if to show she was there. “In fact, I'm going to tell you anyway.”

“Nobody is interested to know how things in the college prep course are.” Inez mocked, making girls laugh. “When are you going to quit it?”

“Even if I need to stay there for 15 years, I won’t give up.” Pelinsu sighed. “It’s my dream to become a doctor.”

“You can do it, dear.” Laura tried to cheer her up.

The way to the mansion where they would dance was filled with laughs and loud conversation. The four of them meeting and spending time together was rare, because they all had busy lives. It was a miracle that they all had a “free” day and could work together.

The house was located at the top of a hill. Y/N was amazed at the view, lots of green trees and abundant nature. It was always so healing and special to be at places like that. Looking through the window to the road behind, she didn't notice her friends getting off the car and greeting a group of guys at the mansion’s gates.

“Excuse me?” An unknown voice brought her back to the present. She turned to where she thought the voice came from, and felt a shock through her spine. She had seen beautiful men before, but... That was different. He was different. With dark hair, a beautiful nose, puffy lips and the sharpest of the gazes, he emitted a mysterious and charming aura. She couldn’t stop staring at him; it was like she was hypnotised. Oh, boy, that was a dangerous thing to do.

Y/N didn’t fuck with business.

Literally.

“Sorry.” She cleared her throat. “I got distracted.”

“No problem.” He smiled and she swore the sun shone stronger. ”Your friends are already inside the house. You must be…?” Stretching his hand, the handsome man offered help so she could come off the van. Well, in addition to his killing looks, he was a gentleman.

Dangerous. Extremely dangerous.

“Y/N. Just Y/N.” She responded lethargic, accepting his hand. Despite the typically hot weather of summer, the man was cold. She felt a sudden dizziness, but decided to believe it was because she spent a lot of time sat down. “Mr. Totti said that if we stay until the end, we can get the other strippers payment. Is this true? Because if it is, I need to talk to the girls so we can make shifts and not get too tired.” Y/N stared at the mansion, looking up and smiling. “What a beautiful structure.”

“I agree.” Youngho replied. “I'm Seo Youngho, by the way. But everyone calls me ‘Johnny’.”

“Johnny?” Y/N questioned, and he gifted her a small smirked.

What a beautiful structure, indeed.

Tall and handsome. Just like a fucking castle.

“It seems easier to remember.” He shrugged. “Anyway, what Totti said is true. But, I don't think you girls need to work until the end; after all, a lot of people are going to be so drunk they will barely notice what is happening. We can set an ending hour, if you want.”

“Of course. How late, then?”

“3:30AM?” He smiled again, mesmerising.

“3:30AM.” She nodded. “To where should I go now, sir?”

“Go up the stairs and turn right, it's the first door.”

“Thank you, Johnny.” Y/N gave him a small bow, smiling, and rushed into the house.

“You’re welcome, Just Y/N.” Johnny sighed, strangely relaxed.

The house was decorated like an oddly but good mix of Greek and Iberian palaces. Y/N liked it, because the fusion made her have another perception of both styles. When she arrived at the floor that Youngho told her, Y/N got surprised as she looked out in one of the large windows of the hall: near the end of the huge garden, she found another road, but it disappeared into the forest. Were they that high?

“How tall is this mountain?” She asked while entering the room.

“Y/N! Why?” Inez dropped her makeup bag in one of the dressing tables.

“I saw a road behind the garden and it ends in the woods. I thought there was only one way to get up here, but I guess I was wrong.” She shrugged. “I talked to Youngho and he said that if we work until 3:30AM, we win the payment of the other girls.”

“I could never be as thirsty for money as you, Y/N.” Lin laughed. “I’m up for it, though.”

“Do I need to answer?” Inez smiled with satisfaction, doing an “ok” sign.

“I need this money.” Laura agreed. “How is this going to work, then? Do we do shifts?”

“I think it’s easier that way, because later we will be tired and then we won’t have much energy to dance correctly.” Y/N opened her backpack. “Who wants to be the first?”

Doyoung grimaced upon hearing the girls’ laughter. He didn't like noisy humans, but he couldn't deny that they were very beautiful ladies, so it made up for the mess. At least Y/N and her friends were not afraid of them and crying nonstop.

“Are you the bodyguard of the group?” Youngho smirked when he found Doyoung in front of the room’s door. “I didn't know we had hired one.”

“Go to hell, Johnny.” Doyoung rolled his eyes. “I'm here to make sure that no one will escape.”

“Hell?” Youngho laughed quietly. “They are being paid – a good amount and above average, to dance. Why would they run away?”

“The rumours...”

“Get over these rumours, Doyoung.” Youngho shook his hand. “There’s nothing that a good party and a few drinks won’t make them forget.”

“Taeyong will be mad if we do this again.”

“Taeyong gets mad about everything.” The tallest one shrugged. “And between losing his way of life here or being mad for some minutes, I guess he'd rather be pissed.”

“Your arrogance never ceases to surprise me.”

“No wonder I died because of it.” He laughed. “I'm going to talk to Yuta.”

“Wait.” Doyoung held his arm. “You have noticed Y/N, haven’t you?”

“How could I not? I almost went blind.”

“It's been quite a while since we've seen such a light.” Doyoung crossed his arms. “It's going to be an interesting night. Do you think Taeyong have seen it too?”

“I don't know if they met, but I assume he already knows. The energy in the house is weird.”

“Good. We have everything settled to go wrong.” Doyoung smiled excitedly.

Giving one of the most exclusive parties of the city was an easy task, and in them, finding people willing to sell their souls was easier. Renewing their strengths on the sins of others resulted in a common way for demons to remain in their human form, but finding the right sin to catch was a bit complicated. Youngho used to search for drug dealers and criminals, but he was interested in something much better right now: corrupt a being of light. He had heard two or three stories of demons who corrupted beings of light and it looked extremely tempting. It was a divine blessing (no matter from which “side” it was coming) that Y/N had crossed his path. The fact that she did not believe in God or Demons was just a bonus.

When Johnny came down, already dressed up for the party, he found the four girls working on their stages.

“Ladies, you look all delightful.” He smiled charmingly. “If you want to have a drink before we get started, just to relax, don’t hesitated to ask.”

“It would be wonderful.” The tallest of them, whose name was Inez, smiled.

“Thanks, but I don't drink before working.” Y/N dismissed it with a hand gesture.

“Water, then?”

“I don't want anything for now, thank you.” She went back to testing the pole dance, ignoring him. Johnny could smell the excitement pouring from her, but he didn't know exactly for which reason.

Having to attend to guests and strike small conversation with some “friends”, Youngho forgot about his smalls problems. He spent a big part of the night overseeing everything from afar and keeping the house in order, so Taeyong wouldn’t snap.

Around 2 A.M., many people were hammered, but not enough for him to try buying their souls. Youngho had just let Yuta in charge of the drinks when the lights shone in flashes, bringing the attention to the main stage. Y/N stood up in the middle of it, wearing a Burlesque style burgundy set, looking as beautiful as an angel could. Extremely tempting and untouchable. He was sure that Lilith would’ve wept in pride if she saw her.

A very calm melody began to play and she moved within the rhythm. Y/N was keen on showing how well she danced, how good she could twirl around and seduce. The audience made a sound of surprise as she snapped an unseen whip, and used it up on her body, snapping again close to her leg, giving the illusion that she had whipped it in herself. Youngho approached the stage, feeling the need to appreciate it from a closer place. She knelt on the floor – a submissive pose that used to drive men crazy –, then crawled to the edge of the it, letting everyone see the outline of her breasts. Youngho giggled despite the discomfort in his trousers. He was a sexual being, he had no doubt about it, but he had never felt so horny about a stripper. Y/N just needed to keep up with those daring moves and pin-up style that he would consider finding someone to have sex with as soon as the show ended... And he hoped she was willing to play that role.

“This girl dances very well.” One guy commented near him.

“At the moment, I really want to use that whip and erase her overbearing smirk.” The other replied. Youngho raised an eyebrow, smiling.

“She has a boyfriend.” Johnny couldn’t help himself from replying.

“Well, what an imbecile boyfriend she found, then. I wouldn’t let my girl do it!”

“You see, I’m sure he doesn’t even know she's a stripper.” The first guy laughed. “Those girls with these innocent faces are the most dangerous. He probably thinks she's sleeping now.”

“In fact he knows she's a stripper, he even encourages her to do so.” Youngho felt his stomach clench in disgust. He hated mortals, that was undeniable, but he liked women. It was no doubt that the world’s Lord and Saviour came from one of them. “What is beautiful was meant to be seen.”

“Even so! He's giving his woman in a tray for other guys.”

“I’m really confident in myself.” He smiled as he noticed their eyes widening.

“Good God, we didn’t know! Really, we’re sorry for saying that!” The one that wanted to whip Y/N wilted. Youngho wanted to laugh, but he had to keep his pose.

“Relax, you were not the first ones.” He shrugged, holding back the laughter.

Another song started and Y/N approached the pole dance. Youngho stopped caring about the audience and focused on the girl who passed a glorious leg by the pole. He caught a sigh as she turned around and paused with her butt facing the public. Youngho thought about several things, especially spanking and biting. The thought intensified as soon as they exchanged a glance by mistake. She was probably looking atound at people and her gaze fell on him... Not that he was complaining; he could feel how she had changed minimally when they faced each other. Johnny licked his lips and Y/N felt a pang in her heart.

She did her best to keep the dance level professional, but with every twirl or choreography move, Y/N knew Youngho was watching her and his attention was simply too good to ignore.

After returning to the room and showering, Y/N was ready to call her friends and leave. She just needed to get the money from... Youngho. She let out an unrecognisable sigh, something between resignation and debauchery. Of course, she would have to talk to him after their little… Thing. Armed with her finest femme fatale pose, she opened the door.

But Youngho was expecting her first.

“Just Y/N.” He smiled politely.

“Johnny.” She squeezed her hands, for she had nowhere to put them but the pocket of her shorts... And that would be weird. “I was going to look for you.”

“And I was expecting you to do so.”

“Uh... About the payment...” Y/N cleared her throat uncomfortably.

“Can we discuss this in my office?”

“Yes, of course. Wherever you feel better with.” She took a deep breath.

“Your performance was wonderful; I have heard many compliments.” Feeling that Y/N was tense, Youngho chose to take it easy. Her light was so tempting, it looked so delicious, that he could not afford to make a mistake and lose it.

“Thanks.” Y/N forced a smile.

The two of them went up to the third floor of the mansion, where Youngho had his office and bedroom. Y/N was surprised by the elegance of the place, because she did not expect men to be organised and to have good sense at that age... Well, she did not know how old he was, but it should not be more than mid-twenties?!

“Please sit down.” Youngho pointed to a leather chair in front of his mahogany table.

“Thanks.” She swallowed hard. It seemed strange and wrong to be there.

“How about we drink something?” He suggested. “Liquor? Whiskey? Vodka?”

“I don’t drink alcohol, Youngho.” Y/N shook her head. “But a glass of water would be great.”

Youngho smiled. Since she did not drink, it would be difficult to make her feel relaxed, but he wouldn’t give up. Opportunities of that magnitude appeared only a few times in his... Life? Death? Existence?

“Well, I wanted to know if you'd prefer cash or...” Giving her the water she asked for, Youngho sat down in front of her.

“Whatever is easier for you, sir.” Y/N shrugged.

His eyes flashed mischievously.

Sir.

It was cute, though. Being near him made her aura shine brighter and it kept alluring him. If only he could drug her… It wasn’t playing fair, surely, but when did demons play fair, to begin with?!

“So, here it its.” Johnny stood up, opening a small door in one of the cabinets and taking a faux leather handbag from inside it. “Here’s all the payment, as if we had ten girls in total. You can share with your friends the way you want.”

“Oh, alright. Thank you so much, sir.”

“Drop that ‘Sir’ thing, princess. I’m way too young for it and it’s way too sexual for me.” He smirked, sitting next to her. “Wanna count?”

“Yeah, that’d be reasonable.” She opened the handbag and her fingers grazed against his skin for just a tiny second, but she felt the same dizziness and coldness.

They counted together, just so she could make sure she was receiving everything. Johnny noticed how interested Y/N was in money, and started plotting. Maybe he could bribe her into being corrupted? Maybe he could pay her to have sex with him (which would make him twice as happy)? Maybe he could use money to convince her to commit a sin or something? However, as soon as she finished putting the cash back, she stood up.

“Thank you again, Youngho. It was a pleasure dancing here.”

“I assure you we feel the same.”

“Good.” She cleared her throat. “Goodbye, then. Have a great… Dawn, I guess.”

“Can you spare me a minute, please?”

When Y/N looked at him, she knew what he was going to say. She received the same offer a thousand times. It used to be offensive, but now she was alright with it. What pissed her off, though, was that she was tempted to accept it this time. He was different from the other guys. He had charms, smooth talking voice, those pouty lips and silky hair. Youngho was broad and tall, making her wonder how sexy it’d be if he caged her in, occupying all the space between them. His eyes had a amber glow she didn’t notice before, looking like hot cognac, and her mouth dried. It’s been years since she last drank alcohol, and brandy was her favourite beverage.

She was thirsty for cognac.

Or was it for Seo Youngho?

“Yes, sir.” She replied automatically.

“There you go again.” He smirked, but it had a pinch of humour in it. As if he thought she was, somehow, cute. “Well, Y/N, I’ll be really blunt since I hate tiptoeing around things.”

“Good, because I hate it too.” She thanked her amazing self-control because her feet stood their ground, not shaking with the anticipated offer.

“Do you have a ride back home, right?”

“Yes, I do. We all do, actually.” Y/N frowned.

“What about a place to put all this money?”

“Yes, Youngho, I do.”

“And a boyfriend? Do you have one?”

She couldn’t believe it at first, but then she grinned.

“Smooth as fuck, sir.” Y/N felt goosebumps all over her skin. “But no, I don’t have one yet.”

“Yet?”

“It’s not that I’m looking around, but one may come eventually, don’t you think?”

“I’m surprised he didn’t arrive sooner.” Youngho blinked, his eyes shining even more. “But it makes things easier for me. Would you like to hang out any time? Maybe have dinner…”

Y/N gulped, a bit shocked. She hoped he’d be like “I can pay you around 3k, so maybe you can suck my dick and let me fuck you?!”, because that’s what she used to hear from the guys that wanted to sleep with her. Being a stripper, sometimes and for some people, meant she was also a prostitute. It was “common knowledge”, even though it was wrong. But at least Johnny seemed interested in having dinner with her first.

That was too dangerous.

“Sorry, Youngho, but I don’t fuck business.”

To her surprise, he laughed. A relaxed, full of humour and sweet sound. Nothing erotic nor offensive. He laughed as if she really told him a good joke.

“You don’t accept drinks, don’t accept dinner offers… Then you don’t fuck business. What do you do, Y/N?” Johnny crossed his legs. His trousers were thick against his thighs, she noticed. Oh, it was torture to acknowledge his strong muscles since she wasn’t able to sit on them.

“I accept payments and pretend I have some sort of power over men.” Y/N smiled. “Excuse me, then, Youngho. The girls might be tired and wanting to go home.”

“I’ll see you again, Y/N.” He said.

“Yeah, maybe.” She shrugged, opening the door.

“It wasn’t a suggestion, princess.”

Y/N swore she’d never forget the diabolic shine he had in his eyes.

●●●

And she never did.

During two whole months, Y/N felt as if Johnny was observing her, even though it was impossible. They never met after the party. Not even once. No one talked about him either. Totti had five more jobs for her, in exclusive parties, but no Seo Youngho in them.

However, every time she arrived in university it was as if someone was following her. When she went home, until she locked up her door, she felt eyes on her. When she was sleeping, she had glimpses of those golden eyes although Johnny had nothing to do with her dreams. Every once in a while, she felt the coldness of his skin.

He was slowly driving her crazy.

On that specific Wednesday, Y/N had had the worse of days. First of all, her teacher made her re-do her paper because she didn’t used the theory she (her teacher) wanted. Then, her job was shit since one of the new interns fucked up a project and she had to clean up their mess. So, thinking that her evening would end better, Y/N had the worst part: her tennis coach cancelled the class because his wife was giving birth.

Capital!

No good grades. No productive day on her job. No “stress-relieving” sports night.

It was indeed amazing.

To top everything, she received a call from Totti when she had just arrived home. Sad days like that reminded her of the only antidote to sadness: Arabic food from the Lebanese food-truck two blocks away from her building. One of her favourite cuisines was the Arabic one, and she was the luckiest girl ever when she found out about that food-truck.

“Hello Kashir!” Y/N smiled when she saw the middle-aged man. “Today I’m exceptionally hungry, so let’s make it a huge order: one large Lebanese beef schawarma, fattoush and baba ghanoush dip, please. Also, I want two attayefs with extra cream.”

“Wow, you’re really hungry. Two desserts in one night?!”

“Attayefs are my weak spot, Kashir.” She shrugged.

“Alright, little lamb.” He smiled. “It’ll be ready in a minute.”

Y/N sat down to wait for the food, and while at it, she checked up her Instagram. Lin had mentioned her in a picture of a celebrity they liked. When Y/N opened it, she decided she was actually overrated. Her smile seemed fake, her eyes had no expression and the way her arms were wrapped around Seo Youngho only made her look like an attention whore.

She closed her phone as soon as she zoomed in his face.

Those eyes – kinda gold even in pictures – had that hint of cognac that drove her mad. How was that possible?! Y/N never met anyone with eyes like his.

He said that they’d see each other again, but turns out he had other things to do.

Or girls…

“The incredible Johnny Seo.” Y/N mocked the actress’ subtitle. “What’s so incredible about him tho? Being good-looking is nothing nowadays.” She scoffed.

Oh, for fuck sake! She was getting jealous over him!

Could the day get any worse?

“You smell like Arabic food.” Totti smiled.

“Yeah, I ate some for dinner.”

“Good, so you’re happy.”

“Yeah, Totti, I am. But I have this feeling that my happiness won’t last…”

“Nah, don’t say that.” He waved a hand. “The thing is: I got this huge, huge deal.” He waved again, stressing how ‘huge’ it was. “And they want you.”

“They?”

“Actually, him. But, of course, I told him that it didn’t mean you’ll sleep with him. Also, that if he makes you uncomfortable you’re free to leave without finishing your performance. And, if he touches you without your consent, he’ll have to pay twice the price.”

“But who is he?”

“This I can’t tell you, it’s part of the contract. However, we can call him ‘Devil’.”

“Oh, fuck, Totti.” She rolled her eyes. “You’re really selling me to someone I don’t even know?! What makes you think I’ll accept doing it?”

“I’m not selling you, Y/N! You know I’d never let you go to some creepy dude! You’re one of my golden girls, for fuck sake! What do you take me for?!” He frowned, offended.

“The thing is: I have no idea who the fuck ‘Devil’ is.” She mocked the nickname. “And I have to re-do a fucking paper because my teacher is a cunt. Literally. Also, Janet, this new intern, fucked up a building renovation and I had to clean up her mess the entire evening. I’m so exhausted I can’t even think about dancing to some unknown weird guy.”

“Y/N, Jesus Christ, he’s willing to pay 14k for you. Can you fucking imagine?! 14k just for you to wiggle around and whip him in the thigh.” Totti almost screamed. “I mean, 14k is what you’re gonna receive after I take my part.”

Her eyes grew at the payment.

“14,000 pounds? You swear?!”

“On my mom’s life. 14k, girl!”

“W-what the fuck.” She was shocked.

No one ever offered so much money to have her. No one ever seemed interested in only having a private dance for 14k. If this guy wasn’t crazy, he was obsessed about her.

“I’m in.” She gulped, replying as fast as possible. She couldn’t back out when so much money was on line. The things she could do with that… The places she could go! “I’m so in.”

“Oh, girl, when money talks…” Totti smirked. “Get ready for Friday, 9P.M. I’ll get a car to take you there. Don’t worry, it’s in a hotel.”

“People can still get murdered in hotels, Totti.”

“Yeah, but not you.” He winked. “Relax, really. He’s a VIP member of my club and he’s extremely respectful towards women. If anything bad happen, he knows I’ll have his head.”

“Good; it’s good that you pretend to care with so much confidence.” She joked, but her heart was beating fast. She’d definitely tell the girls about it, so they could just be aware.

●●●

Y/N finished her second cognac glass, thriving on the hot and sweet syrup. She paid the barman and walked to the lobby again. Breathing in and out, slowly, she gathered up enough courage to go to the hotel room her “guest” was in. Pressing the 24th button, the last floor, she waited for the elevator to arrive in there.

The 2402 room had its door a bit open, an invitation to her just walk there, without knocking. Her stomach flipped with anxiety, since she had no idea with whom she’d deal with. It was moments like those that she wished she had faith to lean on and ask for protection, since she was afraid. However, her religion was money and she’d get down on her knees and do whatever it wanted. Y/N blinked twice, taking a deep breath and stepping in.

It wasn’t a regular hotel room, she noticed. The wide space had glass windows that faced the city lights instead of walls. On the bed space, it had an amazing black brick wall; two medium yellow light lamps illuminated the silky grey bed sheets and gave it a sensual atmosphere. Next to one of the window-wall, a round dinner table was set. Y/N felt a strange comfort in being there… Minimalist decorations were her weak spot, honestly.

She left her purse on the dining table, amused that it really had food in it. Before she could restrain herself, one of her hands grabbed a strawberry.

The door made a locking sound.

Devil had arrived.

“Oh, you’re already here.”

She turned around only to find Seo Youngho dressed in a silky red suit, his black hair parted in the middle, his dark, cognac eyes shining in a low glow. And she knew, in that very specific moment, that they would sleep together.

“So it was you.”

“I said we’d see each other again.” Johnny smiled.

“I thought you were too busy being The Incredible Johnny Seo to remember me.”

He frowned for a small second, and then smirked – his gaze turning into something more predatory. So she saw the picture and she felt slightly jealous about it... Wow, his day just couldn’t get any better. He had it all schemed in his mind, prepared for a battle, but Y/N was making it so easy.

“And I thought you were too busy not fucking business to remember me.”

She scoffed.

“What does this even mean?!”

“This mean that I paid for a lap dance and I’m eager to have it.” He said, relaxed. “And, maybe, just maybe, if you behave like a good girl, we can dine together.”

Y/N scoffed again.

“You’re so arrogant, sir.”

“Yeah, they tell me this all the time.” Johnny pointed to the bed. “Should we do it there?”

“No, just grab a chair and… Ugh, put it anywhere.” Y/N gestured vaguely.

Deciding she’d make a mess of that arrogant face, Y/N prepared herself to the best lap dance she could give someone. Having created a new performance, she didn’t bring the whips and the Burlesque lingerie she used to wear; instead, she had this emerald velvet and lace set – with a triangle bralette, together only with a black velvet choker and her black heels. Turning on the song, Y/N sighed, getting rid of all her stress. It was time to get into character.

Youngho was sitting in the middle of the room, but somehow right in front of the bed. Playing the music, Y/N walked slowly towards him. Her eyes focused on his figure, taking in how gorgeous that man was. It was weird that she still couldn’t get over his beauty, it was like he awakened all her hidden lust… Like he was always trying to find a way to seduce her.

Touching the hem of her dress, Y/N started her performance. She could feel his eyes boring into her, totally interested by what she could offer. A mutual interest, if she was being honest. Y/N wanted to register every reaction he had, savour them, just like she did at his party. She twirled and wiggled, her butt always near his hands, provoking, tempting. Every time she would do a lap dance, Y/N reminded herself from what the pole dance teacher had once said: “Men don’t really care for clothing and how you take it off; all they want to see are your tits and – if you’re feeling generous, your pussy –, ideally, as soon as possible”. That’s why she was always quite quick in getting undressed. Things in lingerie were absolutely more fun.

Pulling her dress straps aside, Y/N got rid of the fabric, revealing herself in her new undergarments. Youngho saw the velvet set and his mind went blank. Y/N was truly ethereal. She was an art piece and he wanted her locked in in Louvre, Prado or whatever museum she’d prefer. His hands ached to touch her smooth skin, to feel every piece of life she had to give. In that moment, he was grateful God created humans.

He licked his lips when she knelt in front of him, her small and warm hands touching his thighs while she leaned forward, obviously showing him her breasts.

“Oh.” Johnny wanted to curse, but his breath got caught in his throat. “It tickles.”

Y/N smirked like she was the personification of lust. Her aura changed slightly, only showing the effect Johnny had on her. He wanted to kiss her, eat her open. Then, without the inconvenience of clothes, she approached him again – a burst of courage running through her blood. She faced away from Youngho, her ass barely touching in his lap as she slowly pressed it into his knees. He swallowed hard, excitement jolting through his body. Due to their agreement, Johnny kept his hands out of equation, but he had to fight the urge to grab that pretentious butt. She slowly leaned back in, her shoulders touching his chest. Surprising him, Y/N turned around smoothly, opening her legs and bending down for less than a second, then walked away. Johnny felt one arm slowly gripping his shoulder, her nails scratching his suit slightly. She pulled his jacket off, leaving him in his black button-down shirt. Feeling his muscles, Y/N forgot for a moment what she was doing – hypnotised by his strong body. Caressing his chest down, she purred, loving how it felt on her fingers. Johnny bent his head backwards, his smooth hair grazing her skin and making Y/N shiver, bringing her back to reality. And that was when Youngho realised he had a lot of power over her, too. The look in her eyes were like pleads of pure lust. For a brief moment, she gave him a sweet, subtle grin, sitting on his lap with one leg at each side. He was shocked. Enjoying it, of course, but shocked.

What happened to the “No touch” rule?

“Is this part of the performance?” He heard a low chuckle. “Honestly, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“Neither was I.” She confessed. “But I’m doing a new dance.” Her mouth was so close, her body so warm, her light… Oh, boy, her light!

Thinking fast, Youngho decided to put his evil nature to good use.

“I doubt you can ride my thigh for 4,000 pounds.” He breathed out, the hot air hitting her and making her shiver. “You’re already seated, mei fortuna.”

Y/N’s lip suddenly went dry, her body tensed up but she knew it was ready to do whatever he asked for. She wasn’t used to being aroused by just a single sentence, let it out by a strange petname she had no idea about the meaning. However, it somehow seemed so right. Besides, with more 4k, she would have 18k. That was a shit ton of money. That was perfect.

“Alright, sir.” Cocking her head to the side, she looked right into his eyes, needy for something.

The smug smile Johnny had on his face deserved to be on an art gallery. Having her saying “Sir” while she started to rock her pussy against his leg was just out of this world, Hell and Heaven. He felt – ironically – like a god. Y/N moaned lowly, her fingers digging into his shoulder while she looked down to his mouth, licking her lips again. That made him use his last trick:

“I dare you to kiss me for more 8,000 pounds.”

Her eyes sparkled in pure desire: for both kisses and money. Johnny had no doubt she’d do it… And he had no doubt it’d be glorious.

Y/N reached for his mouth eagerly. She wrapped her arms around his neck and pulled him closer, her head bent down because of her position. They met in a sensual tongue dance, his hands grabbing her hips and making her move while he drank every sound from her. They were hungry for each other, but decided to keep things slow. She pulled at Johnny’s hair, moaning slightly from the softness – and from the pressure his thigh made on her clit –; the kiss became wet, more desperate. Johnny could feel her light starting to give in to his darkness, his vitality increasing by every second… And he never felt better.

Bribing her was his best idea.

His fingers hooked against the velvet bra, pulling it to the side and getting a better touch of her boobs. Youngho heard her purring again and felt her body heavy against his. Y/N was totally seduced by him. Devouring her, he started stroking her nipples, pinching it a bit and swallowing her moans. He sucked on her tongue, motioning what he would do with her neck, her beautiful breasts, and luckily – her pussy.

“Do you,” Johnny left her mouth for a second. “like it rough?”

She panted.

“Damn, I do.”

His lips met her neck while he unclasped her bra. Throwing it away, he left a trail of kisses from her base to her nipple, then coming up again.

“Good, ‘cause I don’t do it any other way.”

He seemed so confident that they’d end up having sex that Y/N also bought it. She could feel his muscles against her – while she rocked her hips in search of some relief, they were flexing as if they knew the right amount of hardness that could drive her crazy. One of Youngho’s hand came to grab her breast, the other one still helping her to keep on moving. He squeezed the round surface, then moved to her neck, wrapping around it but barely making any pressure. Moaning defeated, Y/N closed her eyes, her body numb. How did he guess her most secret kink?! Without warning, he clenched his fingers, chocking her slightly.

She trembled against his thigh, her nails sinking into his left arm and right shoulder. He mimicked the move, earning another shaky hip thrust. He put some more pressure, adoring how she quickened her pace – now truly hoping for an orgasm.

“Do you wanna cum?” He asked, cocky. Y/N shook her head. “Mhm… Don’t think so.” He stopped her hips. “First you gotta ask, mei fortuna. It’s not that easy, you know?”

Y/N opened her eyes, quite annoyed. She wanted to scoff and tell him to fuck off, but she knew her mouth would actually say ‘Fuck me, please’.

“Can I cum, Youngho?”

“Hm… That’s not really my name, princess. Try again.”

She growled, now more annoyed then before.

“Can I cum… What the fuck am I supposed to call you? Devil?”

He laughed at her angry spat.

“That’s also what they call me, even though it’s not what I’m looking forward hearing from you. Although I asked you not to, you’ve called me that a hundred times, if this may help.”

Y/N recalled the day they first met, a word surging on her mind on the spot.

“Can I cum, sir?”

Johnny’s smile would’ve made all city blind.

“Behave yourself and then I might let it happen.”

She opened her mouth to protest, but he bounced his leg and she shut up.

“Move.” He said in a low voice.

Grinding back on him, Y/N noticed what made her so angry: that man was stupidly handsome, sexual and was about to make her cum in a short time. It wasn’t fair at all. Leaving his shoulders, her fingers started unbuttoning his shirt, each hole revealing his bare chest. Toned, slightly tanned and delicious. Without asking, Y/N leaned forward, kissing his neck while her hands went through the fabric to touch his skin. Youngho growled in pure satisfaction, and the sound was enough to push her to the edge. Swirling her tongue, she copied the motion with her hips, in a lethargic rhythm, just because she loved suffering.

“Choke me again, sir.” She whispered in his ear, lust filling her voice. “Please.”

Johnny’s hand caressed her whole body before stopping on her neck, wrapping it and squeezing it stronger than last time. Y/N’s eyes flew shut, a wave of pleasure washing through her as she felt herself come undone. Rocking her hips with more strength, Y/N rode her orgasm just thinking about riding Johnny for real. If he made her cum with only his thigh, she couldn’t imagine what he would do to her with his dick.

The went room silent for a brief second as the song ended.

“Are you done or is it part of the show?”

“I’m done.” She spoke, opening her eyes to find those devilish yellow orbits looking at her.

“Capital.” He kissed her hungrily.

Y/N took his shirt off, her mouth rough against his. She felt his strong back, grazing her fingers against every inch of skin she could touch. He was so cold even in a heated moment, and that was weird, but she only felt more aroused by him. Johnny touched her legs, putting them around his hips as the kiss came to an end.

“We’re going up. Hold tight.”

“Oh my God, it’s happening.” She whispered to herself, but due to their proximity, he heard.

“Well, I’ve never heard you calling God, I’m quite surprised you’re doing this while we sin.” He chuckled; having in mind he indulged her to commit two of the seven deadly sins.

“It’s my first time doing it, to be honest. But I have this strange feeling I’ll be calling Him a lot today.” She felt the mattress on her back. They were on the bed.

“Poor lad, having you calling him in such a dirty situation.”

“Then whom should I call? Satan?”

Johnny grinned. “That would be reasonable, but he might be quite busy, don’t you think? Why don’t you just call me, instead?”

“But shouldn’t I call you ‘Sir’? It’s weird to moan ‘Sir’.”

“I can’t decide whether you’re being sarcastic or really confused.”

“Maybe I was being sarcastic…” She smirked, her fingers touching his collarbones. “Your skin is so cold, sir. Why’s that?”

“Youngho.” He pecked her lips, pulling himself over her and hating the fact that she noticed how cold he was. It was time to capture her total attention. “Call me Youngho now.”

“So we’re dropping the ‘Sir’ thing, sir?” Y/N blinked innocently.

“Are you mocking me?”

“Maybe.”

Johnny smiled, getting up and sitting on the bed. He patted his lap and looked at her. “Come here, mei fortuna. You should’ve known better than this.”

“Do I get to sit on your lap again, sir?”

“No, princess, you get a good spanking session for being a brat.”

“Oh, so you like brat taming?” She laid down on him, her belly pressed against his knees.

“You got way too comfortable with me. Minutes ago you were trying to put out a femme fatale facade, now you’re all talkative and making fun of my kinks.” He chuckled, caressing her bum.

“You gave me an orgasm, sir. This actually means a lot to me.” Y/N held on the bed sheets, anxious for when he’d start the punishment.

“Hm… So now I mean something to you?! Did I go up a level? Am I no longer ‘business’?”

“You were never business, sir.”

One slap.

She jumped out of surprise, her butt aching and a scream caught up on her throat.

“If you lie again, I’ll have to double the slaps.”

“Jesus Christ, Youngho! You could at least have warned me you were starting!”

Johnny grinned with immense pleasure. Only Y/N would use his name along with Jesus in the same sentence. Yuta would laugh for days if he knew about it.

“Why? You want to count how many slaps you’ll get?!”

“No. Just so I can prepare myself.”

“Then it’s no fun, Y/N.” He slapped her again.

“Fuck.” She spat, still feeling it ache. How many slaps should she take until the pleasure arrived?

She got 12, in total. Around seven, Y/N’s eyes were filled with tears, but every time Johnny’s cold skin touched her, she could feel her pussy getting wet. Again. But when she thought he was over, Johnny pushed her panties to the side and slightly touched her, coating her juices on his fingers and stroking up and down. Y/N moaned softly, completely doomed.

Johnny started finger-fucking her, going in and out in a slow motion just to push her over the edge. His bulge was aching, but he knew better than to go to the main act right now. He loved taking things slow and he’d savour every piece of her… He’d savour every second of totally corrupting her and taking over her entirely. That delicious light, oh, he’d have it all. Y/N propped up on her knees, still being fingered by him, and started undoing his belt.

She palmed his hard member, pulling his trousers plus underwear down a bit to reveal it. Y/N chuckled, quite nervous but quite satisfied, and leaned downwards, licking the tip of his cock. Youngho stopped his movements and growled, making Y/N look up to find him watching her with hungry eyes. She used one hand to stroke all his length, moving it back and forth, just warming up. Knowing that sucking it or masturbating it weren’t everything, she used her free hand to pay extra care in his balls; she held one of them and squeezed it gently. Almost at the same second, Johnny pulled on her hair, forcing her head down. Y/N licked his shaft once again, increased the pressure on his testicle, swirling her tongue while she blinked fast, adjusting him in her mouth. His dominant side made an appearance again, because he started bobbing her head in his desired rhythm, hips thrusting in as she came down.

“You’re so eager to please, mei fortuna. I’m so lucky.” Johnny purred.

Y/N scratched his thighs at the sound of the petname, strangely flattered. She kept sucking him, concentrated in giving him enough space to fuck her mouth. A loud slap echoed in the room and she realised he had smacked her butt again. Stopping on track, she looked up at him.

“Keep going, Y/N.” He breathed out, looking tortured.

She left the bed, getting on her knees in front of him. That way, she had more stability to suck him off and he could control her better. Focusing on the tip, Y/N dragged her tongue around it, sucking slightly and making a “pop” sound, repeating it all over again until Johnny gave in, thrusting back on her mouth in a quick pace. He growled, hips fast and hands tightening around her hair, pushing her face down with every thrust. She gagged a bit, eyes tearing as he kept mouthfucking her, searching for his own release. Johnny was careful not to suffocate or hurt her in any way other than pleasurable, but when he felt his orgasm arrive, he couldn’t help but hold her head with a bit more strength than needed, pulling at her hair tighter.

He suddenly stopped, making Y/N frown due to the small pain in her scalp and abrupt pause. However, when she looked up, she didn’t know whether she was crazy or very enchanted. Youngho’s eyes were a shade brighter than amber, like liquid gold she so much loved on jewellery.

Jesus Christ, the man was stupidly handsome.

Without saying anything, she stood up, pushing her panties down and crawling back to his lap. Wrapping her arms around his neck, Y/N kissed him eagerly. Mouths colliding in tongues and teeth, their hands grabbing any skin they found on the way. Youngho started to get familiar and enjoy those delicious sensations that any miserable touch of Y/N made him feel. The kiss began to slow down, but still extremely charged with lust. Her lips touched his neck, biting hard on the sensitive flesh as she lifted her hips to grind him. He could feel her warm body tensing, her heart beating too fast; and he decided he had dragged it for too long. Pushing her to the side so she could lay on the bed, Youngho took his trousers completely off, grabbing the condom before throwing the fabric somewhere in the room.

“On your back, ass up, face down.” He told her, his voice raspy.

Y/N got on all fours, anxious. She heard the plastic ripping and a soft grunt – probably because he was putting the condom on. Y/N closed her eyes, waiting. She felt a weight on the mattress and then Johnny’s cold skin. The tip of his fingers ghosted around her butt, brushing against her wet pussy and slipping in, while he gave her another slap. She only moaned, too tense to move or argue with him. He fingerfucked her for a brief moment, then positioned himself behind her, moaning a husky ‘Fuck’ when he entered her warmth. It was amazing how with Y/N he didn’t feel so cold, just more alive. She clenched around him, and Johnny felt her aura wave, as if it was fighting against something.

“Let me in.” He murmured, knowing she wouldn’t understand at all.

But Y/N did. Her body was hectic, her heart beating too fast for her liking. Her head felt heavy, her limbs going numb, and with every thrust it was as though Youngho wanted to crawl under her skin, as if he was colonising all her cells. As if he was taking everything from her. She was sweaty, tiring out, but she couldn’t stop. Youngho kept going rough, hitting all the right spots and taking her to a spiral of pleasure, one she would never forget, one she always only heard about, but never experienced. Even if his pace was slow, Y/N felt everything. It was intense, raw and lustful.

Devilish, indeed.

Another slap made her stiffen, this time grabbing some of the bed sheets to muffle her scream. He pulled on her hair, bringing her up so her back was touching his chest, and then she felt his teeth on her shoulder, biting hard, ready to mark her. Johnny’s pace got quicker, their bodies making noises when their flesh met. He loosen the grip on her hair completely, only to wrap his hand around her neck. Jesus Christ, she was about to convulse. Y/N gripped on his arm, trying to stay still while he restlessly thrust in her… Until she felt the pressure on her lungs. She could barely function, the choking way too much for her to ignore the pleasure. Y/N clenched again, on the verge of a powerful orgasm. Youngho started whispering in a different language, something a bit archaic and hard to decipher; it sounded like Latin, yet, kinda unique, and it had a strange effect – like a curse being said, hypnotising her. Her eyelids got heavy and she gave herself in, falling right into nirvana.

Y/N understood clearly the meaning of “Le petit mort”. She could feel her heart beating so fast while her whole body gave up shaking. Her body hit the mattress and she opened her eyes, feeling herself suffocate in a sweet but agonising sensation. Gasping for air, she found nothing but Johnny’s intense gaze on her, as if he was mesmerised with her struggle.

Then she realised… She was really dying.

●●●

A loud thud on the room made Yuta roll his eyes.

“You really can’t stop yourself from being noisy, can you?”

“I was trying hard, mate.” Lucas sighed. “Did she wake up?”

“Nothing yet. However, her pulse came back and her heart is beating.”

“It’s been three days already; her friends are going nuts.”

“Well, I’m doing my best here, but I honestly have no idea of what happened. Johnny won’t talk and she won’t wake up.” Yuta spat. “I’m not a healer of any kind.”

“It’s alright, let’s not worry too much. If corrupting beings of light were this problematic, no one would bother doing so. Maybe it’s because she doesn’t believe in us…”

Youngho entered the room before Lucas could finish his thought. Yuta and he had shifts on taking care of Y/N, since they were the most skilled on weird stuff. He never expected her to die, neither to revive. He expected nothing but getting more powerful and earning more fame for corrupting a soul like hers. Then again, she was like that: cold, slightly lifeless and ethereal.

“How’s babysitting?’

“Good now that it’s over.” Yuta stood up. “She didn’t wake up.”

“I figured it out.” He sighed. “Her friends are sleeping over again.”

“Yay, another night with humans.” Yuta was grumpy. “I have no idea what you told them, but it would help me a lot if you really tell me what the fuck happened on that night.”

“I’ve told you already, bro. We fucked, she collapsed then died.”

“This isn’t right, Johnny. Things weren’t supposed to happen like this.”

He shrugged, offering his friend a smug smile.

“What can I do? It already happened.”

“You should find a way to fix it! You’re now powerful enough to do so.”

“Oh, all saints and demons out there, please help me!” He rolled his eyes. “Yuta, I have no idea what the fuck happened to her, I can’t feel her soul anymore and I don’t know how she’s still alive.” He looked at the girl on his bed. “I don’t think I can help in this since I don’t understand it. Let’s wait for her to wake up, and then I can try to figure something out.”

Johnny sat down next to her, opening a book and totally ignoring Yuta. He was in the middle of a chapter when he heard something moving on the bed sheets. Looking to his side, Johnny got startled: Y/N was sitting, her back straight and her head turned to him. When she blinked, he couldn’t ignore the yellow glow on her eyes.

“Mei fortuna?” He tried. “Are you ok?”

“What the fuck happened?”

“Fuck, you sound like Yuta.” He sighed.

“Youngho, honestly…” Her eyes went fully yellow.

Then he realised.

Jesus Christ, he turned her into a demon.

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