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musette22 · 4 years

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Burning For You

Title: Burning For You Pairing: Chris Evans x Sebastian Stan (Evanstan) Rating: Teen and up Word count: 3.1k A/N: Written for Evanstan Week day 6, a late fill for the Alternate Universe prompt. This silly piece of fluff is entirely inspired by the wonder that is the Mountain Lodge candle from the Yankee Candle Company. Yes, the one that inspired this iconic Tumblr post. The one that smells like Chris Evans.

I was lucky enough to receive one as a gift from the wonderful @howdoyousleep3 and my life hasn't been the same since I smelled it for the first time. Thank you for introducing me to such delights baby K, ilyyy 💖 Also BIG thank you to the @evanstanweek team and to my beautiful beta @rainbowsandcoconut who came up with the outline for this fic when I told her my idea! Love you, boo 😘

Summary: Evanstan AU. Sebastian gets a little carried away when raving about the Mountain Lodge candle to a friend. It leads to an unexpected, fragrant encounter.

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“Listen, D. You’ve gotta smell this candle.” Sebastian leans in closer, nearly knocking over his - third - glass of red. “You know I’m not usually a scented candle kinda guy, but this one…” He closes his eyes and tips back his head, an expression of pure bliss on his face. “Incredible. Glorious. Magnificent.”

“You look like you’re about to pull a Meg Ryan in When Harry met Sally over there, Seb.”

Sebastian straightens, giving Deirdre a meaningful look across the table at the low-key SoHo bar they’re having drinks at. “You kid, but I’m this close. It’s that good, not even exaggerating.”

“Sure you’re not,” Deirdre huffs, lifting her glass and taking a sizeable gulp of her Cosmopolitan.

“Fine, don’t believe me,” Sebastian shrugs. “You know, I pity you for not having experienced the delights of the Mountain Lodge candle, really. If you knew what it smelled like, you’d be singing its praises too, believe me.”

Deirdre rolls her eyes good-naturedly. “Fine, I’ll bite. What does it smell like, Sebastian, pray tell.”

Sebastian sits up eagerly. “It smells…” he starts, “like an evening in that lodge in the Green Mountains we rented with the others a couple of years ago. Remember that? How it felt to relax by the fire after a long day of hiking, the scent of cedarwood and toasted marshmallows in the air?”

“Hmmm,” Deirdre agrees. “That was nice, yeah. But hardly worth busting a nut over, I’d say.”

Sebastian holds up a single finger. “I'm not done. Because this candle doesn’t just smell like the lodge, it also smells like the lumberjack living at the lodge.”

Deirdre frowns. “There was no lumberjack living at the –”

“The metaphorical lumberjack, D, god. Work with me here a little.”

“Oh right, okay. Gotcha.”

“It smells,” Sebastian continues, undeterred, “like soft, worn flannel. Like beard oil and a hint of clean sweat. It smells like a big, strong, gorgeous man who just got done hewing a ginormous tree with his massive axe and cutting it down into firewood, which he’s now using to light the very fireplace in front of which he’ll make sweet, sweet love to you, on the rug that’s actually the skin of a bear that attacked his rescue dog and which this man fought off and killed with his own bare hands.”

“Whooofffff,” Deirdre says, fanning herself with a napkin. “Fine, I’m starting to see the attraction.”

“It smells…” Sebastian goes on, pausing for dramatic effect before delivering his clincher, “like Chris Evans.”

There’s a beat of silence, and then Deirdre groans loudly, sagging back in her chair. “Ughh, shoulda known this was coming. For chrissake, Sebastian, you literally cannot go even one night without bringing up Chris Evans, can you?”

“I totally can,” Sebastian protests, like the mature, professional, Times-employed literary critic he is. “But you don’t understand, D. This candle, it’s actually like they bottled the very essence of Chris Evans and then infused a candle with it. It’s life-changing.”

“Yeah, yeah, you have a permanent boner for Chris Evans, you wanna marry him and have his little bearded babies, tell me something I don’t know,” Deirdre sighs, draining the last of her drink and immediately starting to look around for the waiter to order a new one. Distantly, Sebastian notices the song playing in the background changing to The Smith’s ‘Please, Please, Please, Let Me Get What I Want'. Ah, if only.

“Listen to me,” Sebastian insists, unconsciously starting to speak louder, like he’s some small-town preacher trying to make his ignorant clergy see the light. “Deirdre, darling, you’re one of my oldest friends. I wouldn’t lie to you. I swear, when you smell this candle, you too will feel like you’re being engulfed in the embrace of the brilliant, spectacular, totally unique smokeshow that goes by the name of Chris Evans. It’s as if the man himself is wrapping those huge, muscled arms of his around you, crushing you to his wide chest as you tuck your face into the crook of his neck while his beard brushes your temple and you inhale his masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat, I swear to god – D, are you even listening?”

At some point during the last part of Sebastian’s homily, Deirdre’s eyes drifted to a point over his right shoulder and got stuck there.

“Did you just- zone out?” Sebastian asks indignantly, waving a hand in front of her face. She doesn’t even blink. “Hello? Earth to Deirdre.”

“Seb,” Deirdre says, still not looking at Sebastian.

“Oh, I see,” Sebastian barrels on. “Here I am, pouring my heart out, telling you I found a candle that smells exactly like the man of my dreams and you’re just… What are you doing, actually? Are you okay?”

At this point, Deirdre’s eyes have gone comically round, mouth hanging open just a little. “Sebastian,” she repeats, more urgently now – and just as he’s turning his head to find out what put that dumbfounded look on her face, someone nearby clears their throat.

Sebastian startles, looking up at the man who’s appeared next to their table.

“Hi,” the man says in a deep, rich voice.

A deep, rich voice that Sebastian knows all too well. A deep, rich voice that belongs to none other than Chris Evans, Hollywood heartthrob and actual smokeshow, himself.

Oh.

Sebastian gapes while Chris, dressed in dark wash jeans, a red flannel shirt and a brown shearling jacket, smiles at him patiently. He’s all soft-looking beard and strong nose and bulging biceps and long, lean legs, and Sebastian has died and gone to heaven.

“I’m sorry for interrupting,” Chris says, “but was just sitting a table over and I couldn’t help but overhear.”

And from one moment to the next, Sebastian crashes forcefully back to earth. His whole body goes cold, the blood draining from his face so quickly he feels dizzy with it.

Fuck. No. No, no, no. This can’t be happening. There is no way this is actually happening.

Except it is.

Sebastian had just been extremely, loudly and publicly horny about the very guy that’s standing next to him right now. The guy who is no doubt about to give Sebastian a piece of his mind at best, and a right hook to the jaw at worst. And honestly, he’d deserve it.

Since Sebastian wouldn’t even know where to begin apologizing, he says nothing. Just keeps staring at Chris in ever-growing horror, his pulse pounding in his ears so loudly it almost drowns out the miserable sound of Morrissey still pleading in the background.

Chris clears his throat. “So,” he says, bringing up a hand to rub the back of his neck. “This candle smells like me, huh?”

Sebastian groans, hiding his face in his hands. “Shit. Fuck. I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean- Oh my god, please, please, please just forget you heard any of that.”

“Why would I want to do that?”

Puzzled, Sebastian chances a glance at Chris from between his fingers. He’s partly still covering his face out of embarrassment, and partly because Chris is so gorgeous in real life that Sebastian isn’t sure he could look at him directly without spontaneously combusting. It’s like staring at the fucking sun. He doesn’t seem too angry, though, thank god. In fact, there’s an amused twinkle in his blue eyes that makes Sebastian’s shoulders relax infinitesimally.

“Because it was incredibly inappropriate?” Sebastian suggests, honestly a bit confused about having to explain this to him.

“I don’t know,” Chris shrugs. “It sounded pretty great. Kinda want to smell it for myself now.”

For some unfathomable reason – probably because unexpectedly seeing his long-time celebrity crush in the flesh broke his brain, Sebastian blurts out, “Oh, I don’t have it with me. It’s back at my apartment.”

Slowly, Chris raises a single eyebrow. The look sends a shiver straight down Sebastian’s spine, from the crown of his head right down to his toes. “Is it now?”

“Yeah,” Sebastian replies breathlessly.

Chris’s gaze drops down to Sebastian’s brown leather boots before slowly travelling back up to his face. “I gotta say, normally someone would at least have to buy me dinner first, but…” He trails off, looking Sebastian straight in the eye before finishing, “I am really curious about this candle.”

“You are?” Sebastian says dumbly, and then “Ow!” when Deirdre delivers an impressively precise kick to his shin under the table. He turns to give her a betrayed look, but when he meets her eyes, with which she’s clearly trying very hard to communicate something to him, he finally catches on. “Oh!” Sebastian whips back around to Chris, staring at him with wide, disbelieving eyes. “I- you- you mean like…” He swallows hard. “You wanna come back to my place to, uh, smell the candle?”

Although Chris’s expression remains amused, there’s a hint of trepidation there as well. “Sure,” he says, smiling crookedly. “If… that’s something you’re up for?”

Sebastian’s mind races. The way he sees it, there are two possibilities. Either Chris Evans is actually standing here in the flesh, propositioning him, or Sebastian hit his head in the bathroom earlier and is actually just lying on the dirty tile floor, hallucinating as a result of severe head trauma. The second option seems by far the most likely, but then, his shin does hurt like a sonuvabitch.

Well, fuck.

Sebastian clears his throat and sits up straighter, running a hand through his longish hair. “I mean, yeah, that’s- wow. That. That would be okay with me, uh huh. You mean like, now?”

“If that works for you?”

Without thinking, Sebastian says, “Well, I’m here with Deirdre –” before letting out another sharp yelp as said Deirdre crushes his toes under her heel. “Jesus, D!”

Deirdre ignores him. “Ohhh, would you look at the time,” she exclaims, holding up her wrist which very much doesn’t have a watch on it. “Boy, it’s much later than I thought. I really oughta get going, early start tomorrow.” She yawns theatrically, then grabs her purse and throws down two twenties on the table. “It was lovely seeing you, Sebastian, Chris… Evans,” she adds, with a wooden nod in Chris’s direction. “Hope you two have a lovely evening, bye now!”

And she’s gone.

They both stare after her for a second, and then Chris chuckles – a low sound that reverberates pleasantly in Sebastian’s chest. “Well,” Chris says, turning back towards him. “It’s nice to meet you, Sebastian.” He holds out his hand. “I’m Chris.”

Sebastian stands, taking Chris’s hand, which is warm and big and ever so slightly calloused, and exactly like Sebastian always imagined. “Yeah, I know,” he says, because he’s cool like that. And then, in a show of bravura that surprises even himself, Sebastian holds Chris’s gaze, tilts his head a fraction, and says, “So uh, my place?”

Chris smiles, casually dropping a few bills on the table, more than enough to cover their drinks, before taking a step to the side to let Sebastian pass. “Lead the way,” he says, lightly resting his hand on the small of Sebastian’s back as they make their way towards the exit.

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It’s only once they’re outside and the cold February night air manages to cool down Sebastian’s overheated brain somewhat that it occurs to him to ask if Chris wasn’t at the bar with anyone.

“I met a friend for drinks but he just left,” Chris explains. “I was just waiting for the bill when I overheard you guys.”

“And you’re sure you don’t have any other plans?” Sebastian asks, because he’s nothing if not a self-sabotaging idiot.

They’re still standing outside the bar, the golden light radiating from a nearby lamppost decorated with a cluster of luminous orbs making Chris look softer, somehow. Still a Hollywood heartthrob, but also charmingly human. Unfortunately, it does absolutely nothing to make Sebastian any less infatuated. If anything, it only endears Chris to him more, which he really didn’t think was possible.

“Not really, no,” Chris replies, amusement in his tone. “I was just gonna go back to my hotel and read for a bit.”

Sebastian perks up at the mention of his area of expertise. “Oh, yeah? What’re you reading?”

“I haven’t started it yet, but it’s this history of space travel? I read a great review of it in the Times the other day, so I thought I’d give it a go.” With a self-deprecating smile, Chris adds, “I’m kind of a space nerd.”

Sebastian blinks. “Not ‘To Infinity and Beyond’, by any chance?”

“That’s the one,” Chris confirms. “You know it?”

“I wrote the review.”

Chris’s eyes go round. “You did not.”

In lieu of replying, Sebastian digs up his wallet from his pocket, takes out his Times-employee card and holds it up for Chris’s inspection.

“Huh,” Chris says, studying the card. “What are the odds.” When his eyes turn back to Sebastian’s, he suddenly breaks out into a grin, wide and boyish. “Well, I guess that explains a thing or two.”

“How do you mean?” Sebastian frowns.

“I mean, that review was brilliantly written so you clearly have a way with words.” With a sly look, Chris goes on, “which explains your colorful descriptions of that candle earlier. The masculine scent of cologne, sex and clean, honest sweat was especially vivid.”

Sebastian groans, dragging a hand down over his face. “Jesus Christ, this is so embarrassing.”

Chris eyes shine with genuine mirth as he laughs, “Hey, come on, don’t worry about it.” He takes a step closer, ducking his head to try and catch Sebastian’s eyes, which are now firmly fixed on the pavement in an attempt to conjure up a hole to swallow him. “Call me a narcissist, but I didn’t exactly hate overhearing a gorgeous guy describing me as the man of his dreams.”

“Oh god,” Sebastian mutters, feeling himself turn a fetching shade of crimson. Trying to hide his blush, he turns around abruptly and nearly walks into the lamppost.

Chris, his savior, his knight in shining armor, manages to grab him by the back of his coat just in time to avoid the imminent collision. Sebastian still stumbles, but strong, capable arms wrapping securely around his waist keep him upright.

Carefully, Sebastian turns in Chris’s embrace so they’re facing each other, though he can’t quite make himself look Chris in the eye yet. “I’m guessing you caught on to this by now,” Sebastian tells the St Christopher pendant resting on Chris’s sternum, “but I’m kind of a disaster.”

Chris just hums, lifting a hand to tilt up Sebastian’s chin with his index finger, a small smile playing on his lips. “A beautiful one, though,” he whispers into the negligible space between them, before he closes that space and presses soft, full lips to Sebastian’s own.

Sebastian can’t suppress the small sound that escapes him when their lips meet, eyes closing on instinct as he lets himself sink into the kiss. Lets Chris take charge and coax open Sebastian’s mouth by running the tip of his tongue along the seam of his lips. Sebastian doesn’t think twice about letting him in. When their tongues touch, sweet and soft and languid, he trembles, pressing closer. Chris tastes a little like beer, and while Sebastian’s never been overly fond of beer, it takes approximately two seconds of being kissed by the hottest man on the planet for it to magically turn into Sebastian’s new favorite taste. Ever.

The kiss starts off slow; a little cautious maybe, as if Chris still isn’t entirely sure it’s welcomed. But then Sebastian’s hands find their way to Chris’s waist, fingers gripping tightly, and Chris slides a hand into Sebastian’s hair, angling his head gently to the left to deepen the kiss – and suddenly, Sebastian’s entire body feels like it’s on fire. He moans, relishing the feel of Chris's soft beard scratching at his clean-shaven cheeks, and way Chris takes control of the kiss, like something right out of every embarrassing fantasy he's ever had.

When Chris hums against his lips, as if he’s enjoying this just as much as Sebastian is, Sebastian’s knees go all weak and useless. It’s a good thing that Chris is there, tightening his left arm around his waist and pulling him more securely against the hard lines of his own body – which actually doesn’t do a thing to help Sebastian’s current knee situation. He whimpers, curling his hands into the fabric of Chris’s coat to anchor himself.

When Chris finally breaks the kiss, he doesn’t go far. His breathing has deepened, warm puffs of air caressing Sebastian’s tingling, wet lips. Sebastian exhales shakily. The way his head is spinning might be partially due to the wine, but it's definitely mostly because of Chris sweeping him off his feet with his smooth, movie star ways.

Needing a moment to gain his composure before he speaks, Sebastian buries his face in the crook of Chris’s neck, taking a deep, steadying breath –

Oh.

“I fucking knew it,” he groans.

Sebastian feels rather than hears Chris’s quiet laugh; feels the vibrations of it shake his broad chest under Sebastian’s palms. “Yeah? Do I really smell like your candle?”

“Better,” Sebastian mutters. On instinct, he presses his lips against Chris’s exposed neck, eliciting a shiver from him.

“You know,” Chris rumbles into Sebastian’s ear. “I still think I need to smell this magical thing for myself. Make sure you’re not just flattering me to get into my pants, y'know?”

Christ.

“Yeah,” Sebastian nods. “Definitely, good thinking. Empirical evidence is paramount. In fact, it’s totally possible I’m just mixing things up right now because my brain’s all” – he makes a poof motion with his hands, trusting Chris will get his drift – “so I think maybe I’ll need to do some comparative research.”

Chris tilts his head in though. “Hands-on research?”

“I think that’s best, yes,” Sebastian concurs.

“Right. Well, out of the two of us, you’re definitely the higher educated one, so I’m just gonna take your word for that.” After a beat, Chris adds, “as long as I get to test a theory or two of my own.”

“Oh?” Sebastian licks his lips. “Such as?”

The wicked glint in Chris’s eyes is the only warning he gets before Chris is sliding his hand back into Sebastian’s hair and giving it a firm, experimental tug.

“Ah,” Sebastian breathes, his eyelids fluttering, the blood rushing south so fast he feels dizzy – again.

Chris grins smugly. “Such as that.”

“Okay,” Sebastian croaks. “Yeah, that seems fair.” Wasting no more time, he reaches out to grab Chris’s free hand and starts to pull him along the pavement in the direction of his apartment.

Chris, laughing as he squeezes Sebastian’s hand, follows closely behind.

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#evanstan week 2021 #evanstan #rpf #chris evans x sebastian stan #chris evans #sebastian stan #my fic #my writing #heeeyyyy look at that I still write!#just took a little break #sorry about that 😅#hope you enjoy!!

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kaitoujokerscans · 3 years

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The Night the Silver Cape is Set Ablaze CH6

<6> The Lady Spy and Phantom Thief Girl

At the same time as when Spade was talking to Noir, a minor commotion was taking place aboard a luxury sleeper train coursing through a European ravine.

"Stop! Don't let her get away!"

The train shook with a clunking noise, and stern-faced men in dark uniforms trampled through the carriage. They were chasing after a tiny silhouette dashing ahead. The silhouette opened the door connecting to the next carriage and ran into the hallway. Although the hallway floor was made of old wood, the silhouette's footsteps were completely silent.

There came a loud bang from behind her. A pistol bullet streaked past the side of the silhouette.

"Tsk!" The silhouette clicked her tongue, then opened the door to the next carriage and jumped in. This was the first class carriage — a passenger car with numerous private cabins. Through the earpiece she wore, she heard an order to the uniformed men — "The target's headed towards the front! Cut her off on both sides!". She was listening in to their radio comm.

They'll be coming from the front too, soon enough...

The tiny silhouette came to a stop in the middle of the carriage. Right next to her was the door to a guest cabin.

The silhouette was a little old lady in black tights. She would have been at least seventy years old. Yet her hair was a glistening white, and her skin had a healthy sheen. Least suggestive of her age was the look in her eyes. She was keeping watch for enemies in front of her and staying cautious of enemies approaching from behind at the same time.

Her name was Agent Purple. She was a veteran spy of a country to remain unnamed and was still an active intelligence agent. Purple had just stolen a top-secret file from an influential person in a certain country. She had received intel that it was being moved on this train and, putting her petite stature to good use, had skillfully swiped the file without alerting anyone. It was an easy job for Purple.

But it so happened that a newbie spy allied with her country had been caught elsewhere and let slip that Purple was on board.

Good heavens... Young'uns these days have no backbone... Purple sighed and, focusing her attention to the front, reached for the small firearm lashed around her leg.

Anxiety bubbled within Purple. The round of enemy fire had grazed Purple's arm. It was only a scratch, but still, moving it even slightly made pain course through her arm. Usually she would have no issue with firing at this range, but if enough enemies stormed her from both front and back, she wasn't sure she'd be able to make every shot.

Though it doesn't look like I have a choice... Purple steeled herself. She heard bellows come from both in front and behind her. Just as Purple's hand hovered over her firearm... the guest cabin door swung open, and someone grabbed Purple's arm.

"...!" With her opposite hand, Purple immediately reached for the knife at her hip. But she didn't stab anything. Because the person grabbing her said this to her:

"Come with me, Grandma."

When the uniformed men stepped out of the linked cars into the first class carriage, the target they had been pursuing wasn't in the hallway. The train was chugging along at high speed. She couldn't escape out the windows. Which meant that she had to have entered one of the cabins along the hallway.

The boss gave the order to his men to search the cabins. The men didn't know anything about the spy who was their target, other than that she was short. They entered the rooms one by one and inspected who was inside. Because this was the first class carriage, the occupants all had posh appearances. None of the passengers looked like they could be a spy. But it was possible that she was disguised.

Politely and carefully, the uniformed men examined each individual guest. Eventually, they stood in front of the cabin at the very middle.

One of the men knocked on the door.

"Yes?" came a young woman's voice from inside.

"This is the railway authority. We've received word that an intruder snuck on board, thus we are presently conducting an inspection of all cabins."

"I understand. Come in," responded the female voice, not suspecting the man was lying.

Two men entered and saw that there was a girl and an old woman inside. They were sitting across from each other on plush emerald green seats. The girl, her blonde hair done up in twintails, turned to the men with a puzzled look. "Has something happened?"

The girl was wearing an aqua-colored dress. She gave off a refined air — probably the daughter of a rich family. Then suddenly, one of the men took a frightening tone and demanded, "Hey, did anyone come in here?"

"N-No..." The girl replied, startled.

"She telling the truth, Grandma!?" The man said menacingly to the old woman sitting across from the girl. But the old woman's eyes were focused outside the window and she wouldn't face him.

"My grandmother is hard of hearing. I can answer your questions!" The girl nearly shrieked.

"Check their luggage."

The other man tried to pick up the large traveling bag next to the old woman. Then the girl stood up, shouting. "Stop! Not that bag!"

"Shut up! You're hiding something, aren't you!"

"Of course not! Please, just don't!"

"You're sounding more and more suspicious to me!" The man took out his gun and pointed it at the girl. The girl gasped, her face paled, and she sat back down.

The other man undid the clasp of the traveling bag and slowly opened it, when...

"BARK BARK BARK!" A white dog bounded out of the bag and jumped at the man's face.

"WAUUUGH!?" The man threw his head back in a panic. The dog wouldn't get off him.

"Aahhh! Stop that, Corn!"

"W-What is up with this mutt!?" The man peeled the dog off his face, and the girl spoke.

"He's my pet. Pets aren't allowed on board, so I hid him in my bag..."

"Huh?"

"But now that the authorities have found out, there's nothing I can do... You can arrest me," said the girl resignedly, looking up at the man.

Then the men tsked, not having found what they were looking for. "Hey, let's go. Onto the next one," one said, and they left the cabin.

"Phew... that went well." A little after the men left, Queen stopped holding her breath and plopped down on the seat. The girl who had talked with the men was Queen.

Then Purple, who had pretended to just be an old woman, looked at Queen and smirked. "That was quite the fib. I'd give you a passing grade."

"Teehee, thank you."

"Queen, what was that 'Corn' name about?" Roko, who had been pretending to be a normal dog, asked from beside Purple.

"Well, I couldn't call you by your real name, Roko. You got your name because you liked toumorokoshi — corn — right? So that's why I called you 'Corn'," Queen explained proudly. Queen, Purple, and Roko had put on a performance so the uniformed men would pass them by. Playing the parts of a granddaughter, her grandmother, and her pet, they successfully fooled the pursuers.

"Still, I was surprised when you appeared out of nowhere." Purple turned her gaze toward Queen and broke out into a happy smile. It was a warm, gentle smile, hardly an expression befitting a cold-hearted spy. She was said to have been quite the looker once, and it wasn't impossible to imagine. According to Silver Heart, no man had been immune to her wily charms. Silver Heart himself had acted smitten whenever he recalled Purple, until he met with her again...

"You're Silver's granddaughter, aren't you? You came with us to Jackal's hideout."

Indeed, Queen and Purple, along with Silver Heart and Joker, had previously broken into the organization called Jackal, headed by Doctor Neo. Purple had been introduced then to Queen as Silver Heart's partner during his spy days.

"You remembered me."

"A spy doesn't forget intel. So, since you've come out of your way to see me, I assume you need something?"

"Yes, that's right. There's something I want to ask about..." Queen lowered her voice a little. "I want to know about someone who used to work with Grandpa. Someone called Noir."

"Noir?" Purple's pitch rose. So she was familiar with Noir after all.

"You know him?"

"Yes, he's an old friend. I know him well."

"To tell you the truth, it seems Noir took a treasure from Joker, and I was wondering if it had anything to do with Grandpa..."

"Hmm..." Purple remarked in surprise.

"Did something happen between Noir and Grandpa? If you know anything, could you please tell me?"

"Hm, well..." Purple folded her arms, brooding on something. Suddenly, her eyes glinted mischievously, and she grinned at Queen.

"W-What is it?"

"When you get to be as old as I am, you get awfully tight-fisted. Giving information away for free feels like it would be a wasted opportunity."

"Huh...?"

"It makes me want to tease kids, especially a girl like you."

"O... kay..."

"If you want to hear about Silver and Noir, then do something for me. Something that'll delight me."

"HUH?" Queen drew back in surprise, ruffled.

"Do something to entertain me. Then I'll give you the information you want."

"Ergh..." Queen's gaze veered. She wasn't a veteran spy for nothing. This wasn't going to be that simple. The unreasonable demand made Queen fall silent.

What should I do for her...? I can't tell any funny stories, and I can't do tricks like Joker can... I'm not an encyclopedia like Spade is, so what can I do...?

Queen's mind started to spin in circles. Thinking hard wasn't her forte. But then, Roko cut in from beside her. "Then how about making a funny face like the one you did recently, Queen?"

"Fu... nny... face...?"

"It was hilarious! Purple-san might just like it!"

"N-No! Absolutely not!" Queen stood up to refuse, her face bright read.

"Oh, why not, that sounds fine. Please, show me." Purple bent forward and gave a provoking smile.

"I don't want to! It'll ruin my marriage prospects!"

"Nope, I've decided. That's the only way you'll get information out of me. You can't change my mind!"

"You're kidding me...!" Queen stood at a loss for words.

"..."

"Well, what will you do?"

At Purple's prodding, she gave in. Queen took a breath and faced back towards Purple. Queen was about to forsake her prized feminine sensibilities when...

"Shh...!" Suddenly the look in Purple's eyes changed and she put a finger to her lips, shushing.

"...!" Queen and Roko immediately piped down and listened closely.

Conversing voices were coming from the earpiece Purple was wearing. Apparently she had still been listening to the radio communications while talking to Queen.

"It seems they're coming back this way... My cohort seems to have blabbed that I'm an older woman. If he makes it back alive, he's in for a real reckoning," Purple muttered as she listened, a terrifying look on her face.

"What do you want to do? Do we act our way out again?"

"No, it won't work this time. You two can escape out the window onto the roof. I'll handle the rest on my own."

"With your arm in that state?" Roko asked.

Purple looked over at him in surprise. "You realized?"

"You've been stroking your arm at moments. Probably without even realizing it yourself."

"Then you won't be able to fight those men single-handedly. Let us handle it!" Queen said, getting back up.

She threw off her disguise, revealing her usual white coat underneath. She then took out her diamond sword from where it was hidden underneath the seats. "Purple-san, if I fend off those men, tell me about Noir, okay?" Queen winked sweetly. She was sincerely relieved. Thank God I didn't have to make a funny face!

Just as five black-suited men neared the door of the room where they had seen the young girl and old woman earlier, Queen and Roko sprang out of the guest cabin.

"...!"

Queen glared at the men. The look in her eyes was completely different than the girl who had been in the room earlier. She was wearing different clothes, too, and the biggest difference of all was the great sword she held in her hand.

"She's got the secret file!" shouted one of the men. Indeed, in her other hand, Queen was holding the secret file disc case that she had received from Purple.

"Get her!" Their boss barked, and the men all fell upon Queen. But Queen and Roko deftly dodged them and ran off in the opposite direction. The men rushed after her.

There were no men in the direction they were headed. Purple had found this out by listening to the radio comm. That was why Queen immediately set off in the opposite direction — towards the read end of the train.

Queen sped through the train, passing through one car after another on her way to the end. The men followed after, shoving aside the confused passengers, giving chase to Queen and Roko.

"How long are they going to run for!?"

"Don't lose your head. There's no way they can get off the train when it's going this fast. The girl's trapped like a mouse!"

Just as he said, soon enough Queen and Roko reached the rearmost carriage. It was a coach car, with booth seats on either side. Baffled by Queen bursting in, the seated passengers began to murmur.

"Everyone out! Or else you'll get hurt!" yelled Queen, thrusting her sword up overhead.

Shrieks rang out, and the conductor and passengers all started to rush towards the forward cars. At the same time, the men in black caught up to where Queen was. Wading through the waves of passengers, the men entered the rearmost carriage. Now the only ones inside of it were Queen, Roko, and the men.

Queen stood at the very back of the carriage, standing off against the men.

"Say your prayers, missy." Five suited men stopped in the middle of the carriage and took out their guns. "We're gonna turn you into Swiss cheese!"

"Now, Roko!"

At Queen's signal, Roko stepped forward. Then he unhinged his jaw and let out a prodigious cry of "ARFFFFFFFFFFF!!"

His bark shrilled in the ears of the men. Their faces scrunched up and they clutched their heads in agony. "URRRGHH! W-What was that!?"

This was Roko's ability.

Roko's throat has a special organ that enhances his canine howl. He can use this organ to vibrate ultrasonic waves and assail anyone in front of him.

While the men were gripping their heads from the pain, Queen swung her sword at them. She struck their napes with the back of her sword and mowed them all down. The men were knocked out and collapsed onto the carriage hallway with successive thuds.

"Roko, let's go!"

"Okay!"

Queen and Roko stepped past the unconscious men and ran back towards the front of the carriage. They were just a step away from the next car ahead when...

"Hold it right there!"

The two of them turned around once they heard the voice and saw that one of the felled men was getting back on his feet. The man's gun was pointed at a little girl. She hadn't been able to get away while everyone else was running.

"Wha...!?"

"Throw down your sword, right now! Unless you don't care what happens to her!"

"Bah... you really don't play fair. This is the problem with spies!" Queen bit her lip and glared at the man.

"Hurry it up!"

At his behest, Queen twirled her sword and left it on the floor.

"All right, good. Bring the disc here!"

Queen clutched the disc, vexed. Things had been going according to plan up until she knocked all the men out, but she hadn't foreseen that they would take a hostage. While Queen stood still, seemingly at a loss as what to do next, Roko whispered from beside her.

"...Queen, do that."

"Huh?"

"That thing we were talking about. Your special move! You know!"

"Whaaat?" Then realizing what he meant, Queen rejected it flat out. "Absolutely not!"

"Then do you have any other way of making him drop his guard?"

"No, b-but..."

"What are you two muttering about!? Come here, now!"

"Argh... fine!" Queen shouted in annoyance, and slowly walked toward the man with disc in hand.

"Leave the disc there," the man pointed to a seat, just as Queen spoke.

"Hey, Mister."

"Hm?"

As soon as the man saw Queen's face — he snorted out a hearty "pfft!", followed by a "GYAHAHAHA! What is wrong with your face!? BWAHAHAHA!", laughing uproariously. Queen had demonstrated her famous "funny face" to him.

As the man burst out in laughter, Queen crouched down and delivered a swift kick to the man's shin.

"Ghwaaa!?" The man's guffawing face contorted with pain, and immediately after, Queen grabbed the girl and ran back towards the front of the carriage.

"W-Wait! Bwahahahaha!" The man went after her, but was still snorting from the memory.

Without another word, Queen picked up her sword and swung it. The train's coupling split apart with a clank. The rearmost carriage with the unconscious men and the laughing man aboard lost speed and gradually became more and more distant. The sound of the man's unceasing laughter mingled with the sound of the wheels, and eventually faded away.

Roko grinned and looked up at Queen. "Nice going, Queen! Now that's what I call looks that could kill!"

"I'm not happy about this at all!" Queen puffed up her adorable cheeks and stared at Roko accusingly.

#kaitou joker #light novel

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feareth-who · 3 years

Text

I'm sorry it's so long but I hope you enjoy!! 😊

Two Braids Is All It Takes

Remus was always there. Whenever Sirius needed him, his Moony was always there.

Of all the things in the sob story that was Sirius’ life, Remus had been a consistent source of comfort. The lingering scent of chocolate and fresh parchment had been -is- one just as much.

This particular full moon had been horrendous. The toll it had taken on Remus’ body had had him prone in bed for two whole days. To top it all off, Sirius had received a howler from his mother this morning.

Sirius had been brooding the rest of the day, berating himself for being so pathetic that he couldn’t even get himself to comfort Moony. He hadn’t even responded to James’ words of comfort.

“James,” Sirius began, voice still thick with tears, “You should go-“

“No, Siri-“

“James.”

Prongs shut his eyes, steadying himself, and bowed his head.

He looked up after a few seconds, having made a decision.

"You’ll be okay right?” His tone was anxious, “I’ll send for Wormtail, wait-“

“Prongs,” Sirius put a hand on his shoulder, cutting him off, “Just leave me be. I’ll be fine. You should go to Moons, I’ll try to come by later.”

The couch cushions shifted as James got to his feet and moved to the door. He turned back to give Sirius one last look-over before offering him a small smile. Sirius returned it rather weakly.

Sirius screwed his eyes shut. Now James was gone too. Had his mother been right? Would he always be this alone? His miserable thoughts gave way to new tears. He bit his lip hard, choking on a sob. He took deep breaths but they only seemed to start the sobs anew.

Today was the evening of third day, and Remus insisted that he was better. Madam Pomfrey spent nearly an hour confirming it, and after bettering his remaining daylight hours with one last sticky, sour potion, left him to his own devices.

James told him of Sirius’ condition then, and Remus asked to meet him, despite James’ protests that he should return to the dorms to rest. Ultimately, Prongs gave out a resigned sigh and got Remus to the Gryffindor Common Room with Wormtail’s help

The three padded softly into the place, Remus looking just as anxious to check on Sirius as was James. The man in question, however, was so out of it that he didn’t even register their entry.

Peter sighed in long-sufferance. He whispered, “I think it’ll be better if we leave him with you, Rem.”

“Moony, I think you’re the only one who can get through to him right now,” James murmured, “He refused to say a word when I tried”

“I’ll try,” Remus paused, still staring at Sirius’ pitiful form. He smiled at his friends, “You guys should go get some sleep, you must be exhausted from all the running.”

The two helped Remus as he limped to the couch. Once he managed to stand with the support of the couch’s backrest, he waved them away and listened to the sound of their footsteps fading up the staircase followed by that of a door creaking shut.

Remus accio’d a nearby chair and sat down heavily. His eyes moved to Sirius, and before he knew it, his hands were carding through Sirius’ tangled, knotted hair. There was a jolt as Sirius startled himself out of Remus’ grasp, and relaxed evidently once he realized whose smiling face it was.

He looks so pretty like this, was all Remus could think, I don’t deserve him.

He lifted himself off the chair with great effort, moving to the front of the couch, settling down next to Sirius. He placed his left foot on the ground and stretched his right leg across the couch onto Sirius’ lap, leaning against the armrest. Sirius tracked his movements with an absent look in his eyes.

“You shouldn’t be here,” Sirius said abruptly, eyes coming back into focus.

“That isn’t for you to decide,” Remus replied casually, “I feel better, because everything feels better when you’re around”

Remus suspected it was a mixture of the late hour and mild relief from three days of agony that was allowing him to say and do things he’d regret later, but retrospect can’t hurt in the moment, can it?

Sirius froze for a second, a blush creeping across his face as he processed the statement.

Remus whooped internally, he’d provoked a rare moment of uncertainty from Sirius, even though the context he would have to give to James to explain his achievement would be wildly embarrassing.

Clearing his throat, Sirius shifted towards where his face lay on the couch, “Is your leg better?”

"Yeah, much better.” Remus hesitated, thinking vaguely of consequences, though it was kind of hard to do while he was distracted by Sirius’ moonlit, godly face, the firelight throwing his freckles and scars into aggravating focus.

“Lay down” Remus said finally.

“I’m not your dog,” Sirius growled, earning a chuckle from the other man.

“Merlin, Pads….” Remus sat up himself, a small distance away from Padfoot.

“Okay, sit down here.” He says, nodding to the place on the floor where his sock-clad feet are resting.

Sirius eyed the floor dubiously.

“Just humour me, will you?”

Sirius still looked puzzled, but complied nonetheless. Leaning cautiously against the werewolf’s legs, he crumpled the letter held in his hand, his clouded gaze staring vacantly at the dying flames in the heart.

Remus smiled minutely, and brought his hands up to Sirius’ hair, tugging gently at the strands like his mother used to do to soothe him. He continued to do so as Sirius’ body starts loosening up.

After a while, Remus probed, "You wanna talk about it?" Sirius hummed before answering with a small smile,"Same old crap." Remus let out a light chuckle and shifted his hands to massage Sirius' head.

Sirius moved himself to lie on Remus' chest. He felt home, a home he'd never felt in the house of the Blacks. It smelled like home, it felt like home. To him, it was always home and it would always be so.

The silence continued, until Remus stopped with his actions. Sirius, who was almost asleep let out a groan before opening his eyes. "Moons," he said with a sleepy voice. Getting up from his chest, Sirius looked at a frozen Remus. Panicking he asked, "Moony..Moony! You alright?" Snapping out of his thoughts, Remus looked at Sirius and smiled.

"Moons?" Sirius questioned again.

"Can I braid your hair?" Remus posed casually.

This was the second time Sirius had frozen with a flushed face that night. Remus couldn't believe it, but he smirked at the effect he had on the man.

"Can I braid your hair, Pads?" Remus asked again.

The idea of braiding, Lily and Marlene had suggested it and even offered to do so but he had refused it. The only thing going through his head at the moment was- moons wants to braid my hair!!

"Ahem, Pads?" Remus said bringing Padfoot back to earth from his heaven. "Ah, yes... sorry, I was just a little surprised... ofcourse please go ahead," he rambled. He mentally cursed himself for doing so and turning away he placed his now red face in his hands. He could feel himself burning up because Merlin, Moony is going to braid his hair.

He straightened himself and sat in anticipation. Moony brought his hands to Sirius' hair and played with it while deciding which braid to do. Remus combed Sirius' hair with his fingers and the tension in his body eased out. He started to breathe evenly as Remus began parting his hair and pulling his strands into what felt like curls around one another.

French tails, that's what Remus ended up with two small, cute little french plaits. Five minutes ago, he couldn't decide what to do since the idea had struck him so suddenly. Playing with Sirius' hair had reminded him of his mother. Hope had taught Remus baking, cooking, knitting and plaiting his mother's hair. She was the only person he did it for.

But now, in front of him sat the man he loved, in two French plaits, the first braided hair his mum taught him. In front of him, sat a man staring at himself in a mirror he ran to pick up from across the room, which probably belonged to Marlene but it didn't matter. Sirius was smiling, that was all Remus would ever need.

Remus looked down and grinned. He felt proud but more ecstatic than anything. Sirius got up and jumped, laughed and said things which Remus didn't care to hear because oh merlin he's so handsome.

He was fighting the urge to get up and kiss him, confess to him and tell him that he loved him, he truly did.

On the other hand, Sirius jumped up and down looking at his Moony and shouted, "These are amazing Moons! You are amazing!" Sirius could've sworn that he almost thought leaping at Remus and kissing him but no.. this would be enough.

He smiled brightly at him once again, as Remus now regained consciousness from his thoughts. "I'm glad you like it," he said clearing his throat. He slowly got up and raised his hand to caress Sirius' hair but accidentally tripped. Sirius instantly grabbed the man by his waist and smiled," Woah, careful there Moons." "I keep falling for you, I can't help it you idiot," Remus said arbitrarily.

Again, Sirius thought, it's the third time this night moons please. His hands moved from the man's waist to his neck. Sirius lunged forward causing his and Remus' lips to crash. The kiss lasted a good minute before Sirius pulled away.

"I like you.." they said together and broke into giggles.

"Thank God you do," Remus said blushing.

"Ofcourse I do, boyfriend," Sirius teased making Remus more flustered.

And now all Sirius had to think about was, getting Moony to braid his hair because oh merlin there was nothing better than- Moony, his Moony.

And now the two lied curled up on the couch with Remus thinking, two braids is all it takes.

Ok please I'm not amazing or anything but I hope you enjoyed it!!

Thank you @alex-tries for helping me correct my silly mistakes

Tagging: @star-dust-2317 here! Hope u like it

#wolfstar #imagine your ship #two braids is all it takes #confession #braiding #marauders era #the marauders #remus lupin #sirius black #i hope you like this #🥺

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tomsrebeleyebrow · 5 years

Text

heavenly yours (epilogue) | th x fem!reader

Heavenly Yours – a chaotic series

PART 1 | PART 2 | PART 3 | epilogue

Summary: A few years passed and some things changed. What is now happening in the Underworld of Hell?

Pairing: KOH!Tom x Angel!Fem!Reader

Warnings: language, some blood (not much), tones of cute moments, tones of feelings, SMUT including pregnant sex, unprotected sex (use condoms kids), fingering, stimulation and breeding kink (oopsie)

Words count: 10.2k

A/N: first of all: a massive thank you to all the people who supported me and this mini series! you’ve been amazing all along, and i couldn’t have make it without you 🙏🏻✨ also sorry for the delay but i started a new job so i was busy, but then covid-19 happened and here i am now at home 😅 at least i can get some writing done 👀 anyway this mini series is coming to an end with this epilogue, so again a big tysm and i hope you will support my other works like you did with this one 💖💞

masterlist | series masterlist | your support

A few years later.

In the Hell’s Castle.

❞ You piece of crap, you are such a disgrace even for Hell. ❞

The voice echoes in the throne room. It is not a scream, but still loud, rough and impressing. Capable of giving you the chills or killing anyone on the spot. A voice well-known in the Underworld of Hell. A voice feared by any demon down there.

‘M-MY KING, I-I DIDN’T MEAN TO- I AM S-SORRY PLEASE! SPARE ME P-PLEASE-”

❞ SILENCE. ❞

The voice gets a bit deeper this time. The entire room trembles and so do all the people present in there. No one dares to look directly at him, scared of making him lose his temper even more. The demons care for their life and just kneel down, heads bows, silently.

But boy someone sure is going to have a bad time today.

Tom lazily sits on his throne, one leg crossed over the other and an elbow on the black wooden armrest with his hand supporting his head. His current sitting spot overhangs the room, getting a clear view on today’s “trash to clean”, as he commonly calls them. The strong fingers of his free hands tap on the armrest, his short nails creating a macabre melody in addition to the fragile pleading of the unfortunate defendant of the day. The King’s facial expression doesn’t let through a single ounce of emotion, but who knows him well senses that the King is upset. Really upset.

❞ How many times did we catch you sneaking out of the 8th circle? Five, or more? Either way, you really pissed me off now. ‘ve got other shits to deal with. ❞

‘P-PLEASE MY KING! I WILL DO WHATEVER Y-YOU WANT! PLE-’

❞ FUCK OFF, YOU MISERABLE ASSHOLE. ❞

*slash*

The pleading abruptly stops, letting a heavy silence to take place. The body of the demon then separates in two perfect and equal parts, before falling into a sloppy sound on the now bloody ground. Still no word spoken. Now the smell of death is strong in the room, and the blood of that disgusting and deceitful demon begins to block Tom’s airways.

❞ Take that shit away from my sight and clean quickly that mess ❞ exhales Tom, scratching his temples and frowning at the displeased view.

The demons’ subjects stand one by one and after bowing their head to their King, they start executing his orders.

❞ Actually, give some pieces to Tessa. She will be happy to have something to chew on. ❞

At the sound of her name the aforesaid Tessa makes her way next to her master, her claws clinking on the marble floor as she passes next to the corpse and other royal subjects. Now sitting next to Tom’s leg, her tongue hanging out, the female staffy raises her face towards Tom who understands what she wants.

❞ I know, darling, I know. Now is break time ❞ slightly chuckles Tom as he bends his upper body to scratch behind his dog’s ears.

Just as his subjects finish cleaning the mess from earlier - not forgetting to bring some “toys” in Tessa’s corner -, Tom catches some stepie steps coming from behind the giant entrance door of the throne room. And he knows these steps. Pretty well actually. He smiles and Tessa seems to ear them too now, her tails batting the ground from excitement.

The devil man finally stands from his throne, extending his black wings on his back. All royal servants are gone, the place shinning like day one. Then a light knock resonates in Tom’s ears, his smile transforming into an amused smirk.

❞ Who dares to disturb the King during his duties? ❞ Tom exclaims in a weird imposing baritone voice, chin up and chest puffed out.

*giggles*

The man beats his wings and keeps his position, quite the opposite of Tessa who excitedly begins running around Tom, knowing who is actually behind the door.

❞ I dare you to enter this room, you little crooks! ❞

The heavy double door cracks as it opens slowly, letting out some creaking noises. Tessa just starts running straight to it as her barks echo in the room. And as the door opens enough, two little bodies appear behind it and are instantly being jumped on by the dog, clearly happy to see them. Then follow lots of laughing and giggles.

‘DADDY!’

Tom finally loosens up his acting at both voices calling him then walks towards them, arms open wide. As Tessa calms down, the two bodies free themselves and run to the King, before jumping right at him. Tom catches them, joining their laughs as he starts spinning around.

❞ How are my beautiful children doing? ❞

Children indeed. Two children. Tom’s treasures and source of happiness. Something he never imagined he could have one day. But he did. On his strong arms are attached his four and a half-year-old daughter Dottie and almost two-year-old son Al, both their little hands wrap around their dad’s waist and torso as they look at him with smiling faces.

Dottie is the clear image of Tom. Same brown wild curls he once had back to his angel’s life, big coffee eyes that are already pro at doing the puppy look, a cheeky smile and very affectionate. A total outgoing daddy’s girl, a bit loud sometimes, but always ready to help and protect the one she loves, mostly her little brother. She is his little warrior, as Tom likes to call her.

Regarding Al, the younger sibling is definitely like (Y/N). The same features from the colour of his hair, eyes and so on that scream he is the reflection of the dear angel who stole Tom’s heart long time ago. But little Al is quieter than his sister, sometimes shy or even diffident, but still kind and radiating gentleness. And a one hundred percent mama’s boy.

To compliment all that, both children display cute growing wings on their back. A mix of white and dark feathers, beautifully arranged and showing the union of their so different parents. But Tom couldn’t stop touching them because each time he does, these feathers prove him everything is now possible, even for him who endure exile and torture alone for so long. The tiny bodies he carries warmly are the fruit of his tenacity to show how much the Kingdom of Heaven was wrong since forever, ruling in the shadow with received ideas which only created sadness in the end.

But not anymore.

❞ Wait, did you two sneak out of your mother’s sight or- ❞

“I’m always close to them even when they don’t know, darling.”

Tom exhales, a smile growing on his face. The lovely and soothing voice of his other half makes his head turn towards it. And there she is. (Y/N). Standing next to his throne as if she was always meant to be there, wings majestically framing her body and the long white lace summer dress he lastly bought her drawing her curves to the perfection. And new perfectly stretching around her growing stomach. The angel brings her left hand up to stroke it, the circular moves drawing attention to the golden accessory on her ring finger which also matchs with his own one.

A wedding ring.

Her longer hair cascades on her back and shoulders, nicely brushed and arranged to welcome a delicate crown on top of her head. Thin and discreet, a few gold stems go around her head, intertwined together, with some clear red spots here and there.

A golden crown of red roses.

(Y/N) is absolutely stunning, she always was, always is and always will be. She manages to take Tom’s breath away each time, even for any little things she does. The angel was the missing puzzle piece since the beginning.

After the night they became one, Tom stake to his words to make the angel woman his queen. As much as Tom wanted a quick and private celebration, his friend and advisor Harrison had to remind him many times that Tom being the King of Hell, he had to mark the occasion at least a little bit to officially present her to the Kingdom of Hell.

And that is what Tom did.

It was a short ceremony but still worthy of the King of Hell. And maybe an occasion to show off a lot little next to his soon to be - and now officially proclaimed - wife, the love of his (after)life. And it would have been logical to give her the title of Queen of Hell, as him being the King of Hell himself.

But no. Tom didn’t want her being associated too much to the Underworld of Hell, title included. So he decided to stick with only “Queen” and that was already enough, and even better. (Y/N) is his Queen, the one he wants to rule his Kingdom next to, the one he wants to be with forever.

‘MAMA!’

The children both squeeze out the grip of their father to rapidly fly right towards their mother, who kindly smile at them as she catches her youngest one in his still wobbly flying. Al and Dottie cuddle into (Y/N)’s body, being careful to avoid her tummy during their embrace.

Tom could look at this scene for hours. Looking at the person he loves the most holding his two other precious ones - soon to be three - all together, radiating of love, happiness and kindness, emotions he craved for so long that he is now proud of being able to have and feel. Unconsciously this put a warm smile on his face, and he couldn’t stop himself from joining them too.

As Tom engulfs them all into his strong arms, his black wings also surrounding them, (Y/N) slightly nuzzles her face into her husband’s neck while still holding both her children close to her. The devil man rubs his nose against the soft hair on top of her head, avoiding her little crown, to smell the fresh scent of flowers coming from it.

❞ You like to just appear and disappear wherever you want to surprise me, don’t you darling? ❞ jokes Tom kissing her temple, which makes his wife giggle.

“It’s not like you don’t like it, sweetheart” replies (Y/N) as she leaves a soft peck on his neck.

❞ Cheeky you. But touché. ❞

One of Tom’s hands slides around her lower back then her hip to end its course at the side of her growing stomach, slowly stroking it through the fabric of her sundress. He kisses both Dottie and Al’s foreheads before resting his cheek against (Y/N)’s temple.

Being able to have his family by his side to love and cherish to his heart’s content is something Tom would never change. His family. These simple words bring so much feelings inside him, warming up his heart each time he says them out loud. With a powerful meaning.

Tom detaches from the little group to take back both his daughter and son in his own arm, freeing (Y/N) from their intense grip. He then walks to his throne and sits on it, putting both his children on one leg on it. (Y/N) soon joins them too and sits on Tom’s free leg, slightly leaning on her husband’s torso.

❞ Alright kids, what did you do with your mother until now? ❞ asks Tom to his children, firmly but tenderly keeping them still on his leg.

As Dottie begins (but mostly tries) to vividly describe all the games they played and Al listening to his big sister, both parents look at them lovingly while cuddling into each other. Tessa soon join them with something in her mouth - definitely a piece of the demon’s body from before -, sitting peacefully at Tom’s feet to chew on her new “toy”.

The macabre room of sentences is now filled with adorable laughers and chitchatting, clearing up the usual bloody and terrific atmosphere for today, at least.

* * * *

(Y/N) lays on the red velvet couch in the living room, her back against tones of fluffy pillows she gathered from everywhere in the castle. Her legs stretched out, she continues reading with the book slightly put on her five-month-tummy. In the background, the angel can hear Dottie and Al playing in the garden with Tessa, their joyful laughers making her smile. Beside her, the fire keeps crackling in the fireplace, warming up the air around her. It is actually the only spot of fire (Y/N) ever saw in Hell, and the only one she is actually happy to light up.

Still immerse in her peaceful reading, she hears steps resonate on the marble of the living room, coming closer to where she is. As the angel raises her head, the silhouette of Harrison makes its way to her. Dressed in his usual black outfit, imposing wings on display, the loyal demon of Hell soon stops at the back of the couch to address to the young woman.

“Good afternoon, Harrison” (Y/N) greets him as she rests the still open book on her stomach, giving her full attention to her friend.

‘ Good afternoon, (Y/N). We just rece- ‘

Harrison gets interrupted by (Y/N) who puts her index finger on her lips, then slowly pointing down to where her book is. Intrigued, the demon leans further over the couch. And to his surprise here sleeps the King of Hell himself, totally squeezed between the back of the couch and (Y/N)’s body, his face slightly on top of her breasts and an arm around her pregnant belly.

(Y/N)’s hand begins to scratch his scalp softly and he seems to snuggle more into her, his breathing calm and at ease. Harrison tries his best to suppress a smirk. Seeing the most powerful demon who terrifies all Hell and beyond in this position, as gentle as a lamb, is for sure destroying the entire myth itself. But at the same time, he never saw his friend this peaceful until he made the impossible to bring his love one back to him.

So in the end, Harrison couldn’t stop the discret crooked grin in the corner of his lips. After silently clearing his voice, he starts again but in a hushed voice.

‘ As I was saying, we just received a letter from Heaven addressed to you. ‘

Harrison holds the aforesaid letter out to the angel woman, who takes it carefully as to not crumple the delicate paper. The letter is rolled up and neatly tied up in a white silk ribbon, (Y/N)’s name calligraphed on it in thin and calligraphed letters.

Looking at her sleepy husband one last time, (Y/N) takes the ribbon between her fingers and slowly undo it, depositing it on her book. Harrison stays at the same place, hands linked on his back as he watches over the woman. (Y/N) rolls the paper out with her two hands and sees a few lines written on it, the handwriting being familiar to her.

“This is from Zendaya” starts (Y/N), now smiling with kind eyes at the letter. “Thank you Harrison.”

‘ You’re welcome, (Y/N). I will be with the kids if you need something. Also... ‘

The demon glances at Tom who has not moved an inch since then, still fast asleep against (Y/N).

‘ ... Make sure he is awake for his afternoon’s duties. Got some important “work” to deal with ‘ Harrison whispers, emphasising the specific word “work” with the intonation of his voice.

“I know I know, don’t worry about it” replies (Y/N) while massaging Tom’s scalp.

As Harrison makes his way outside to keep a close eye on the children - even if in the end, he will totally play with them but never admit it out loud -, (Y/N) feels Tom’s body moving slightly, his legs stretching out but still not waking up fully.

The arm around her stomach tightens a bit, his hand caressing her side almost tickling her thought her dress. He snuggles more against her, a content smile now on his face. Letting her husband enjoy his well deserved nap, (Y/N) can concentrate on the letter she received from Zendaya.

Zendaya. One of the Superior Angels who maintains peace in the Kingdom of Heaven. One with a big heart and a beautiful soul. And the only one who trusted and agreed to help Tom when he was banished and sent to Hell.

Approaching the Superior Angels was, at the time, nearly impossible because they were considered as “the direct messengers of the Holy God”. But Zendaya had always been... Zendaya. Well educated, respected by everyone and also the only Superior Angels close to the other angels. She never feared anyone, even when her fellow Superiors asked her many times to keep her distance with the common angels.

Zendaya always had a mind of her own and that is also why she developed a certain friendship with Tom. Him being himself loved by everyone in Heaven, she knew since the beginning she could trust him. With time they became confidant to one another, and it is also like how Zendaya learnt about his growing feelings towards (Y/N). She knew her too, a bit less but still enough to trust her deeply and admire her from afar. But everything changed when the Superior Angels suspected something was going on. And, in fact, they didn’t hesitate a single second to get complete rid of Tom without another thought. And Zendaya couldn’t do anything but assist to his terrific exile.

As time flies, Zendaya felt nothing was the same in Heaven anymore. Mostly when she kept an eye on (Y/N). So much despair and sadness, but well hidden by the young angel to not draw any attention to her. Zendaya admired (Y/N)’s mental strength but she could not not be afraid of her fellow’s mental health. And even with all her will, Zendaya knew she couldn’t do anything. At least not by herself.

Until one day, totally out of nowhere when she thought she had to finally put what happened behind her. That specific day, everything changed as a tiny piece of paper was found under the bench Zendaya usually sits on in her private garden. A simple message non signed but somehow... recognisable, with a black feather attached to it and simply written:

“I’m alive. We need to talk.”

Zendaya kept her devilish correspondence with Tom to herself, being extremely careful each time a letter was sent by one or received by the other. The Superior Angel was the best help Tom needed to bring back (Y/N) to him, even if Zendaya was not really in favour of that idea, at first. But she was the most sensible angel - with (Y/N) - in Heaven and the determined one wishing for a change.

A true and concrete change had to happen. Now or never.

And that is how Zendaya planned (Y/N)’s “evasion” with Tom’s help, also managing at the same time to not declare a war between both kingdoms and opening the minds of angels and demons. What a job, really. But it was worse it because since then, the impenetrable borders between the two worlds finally fell for good.

...

« « My Dear (Y/N),

I hope you are doing good. How is your pregnancy is going?

Recently, the Superiors Angels and I gathered to discuss about sharing our mutual files about the people arriving at the Purgatory’s Gates, but also about the “doubtful” ones. I broached this topic since a bit of time now, but you know how the Superiors are... Still reluctant about this and that, but we will slowly make it.

And how are Hell Boy and your beautiful kids? Hope they at least give you some rest time. Mostly Tom because this man is a mess by himself. I still wonder sometimes how he manages to do anything while you were not here (yet).

Anyway. Tell little Dottie and little Al I love them a lot, to be good and that I can’t wait to see you all again when your new little member will be here.

Wishing you all the happiness to you and your beautiful family.

P.S.: tell Tom to stop being a dick and to read that damn report I sent him last week because I need an answer fast now, thanks.

Sincerely, Zendaya. » »

(Y/N) tries to stop giggling at the last lines of the letter, but still couldn’t really help it. Her chest vibrates against her will, slightly shaking Tom out from his sleep.

❞ What in this letter is making my beautiful wife laugh? ❞ Tom asks sleepily, his voice hoarse and eyes still close as if waking up is not in his plans yet.

(Y/N) caresses and kiss the crown of his head still resting on her chest, now openly giggling at the sluggish mood of her husband.

“Zendaya is waiting for you to read a report from a week ago” the angel slowly starts, her fingers running along Tom’s neck as her lips don’t leave his forehead. “Also she is planning to come visit when our little one is born.”

Tom finally dares to raise his head and meet his wife’s sparkling eyes, his being drown into them again and a smile now on his face.

❞ I can’t wait for them to be born, I want to hold them in my arms so bad ❞ says Tom, kind of lost in his thoughts as he caresses (Y/N)’s stomach lovingly.

“Me too, I can’t wait” the angel replies, emotions of pure happiness overwhelming her entire body.

The two beings share a passionate kiss, full of love, in this moment of silence. Pure calm and solitude while Tom holds his dear queen softly in his arms and runs his hand over her growing belly. Neither of them have to say much in order to know what the other is thinking. This moment is not different.

The joyful laughers of their children in the background constantly remind them how grateful they both are to the Gods for allowing them such happiness.

* * * *

Finally the end of the day.

Tom feels beyond exhausted. As Harrison likes to stick to his plan as strict and a total pain in the ass as they usually are, his fellow demon friend assisted him during his afternoon’s duty in the throne room. All. Damn. Afternoon. Harrison didn’t let him have more than three-minute breaks because he wanted things to be done for good. And since the third heir is supposed to arrive in a few months, there was no way in Hell Harrison would let Tom increase his workload.

But now the night took place over the day long ago. The Underworld fell asleep little by little like the Castle itself. Tom exists the bathroom, heavy clouds of steam following him after an intense and thorough showering. The hot water helps his sore muscles to relax a bit, as he made a way too much good use of (Y/N)’s shower gel to erase the smell of blood and sweat stuck deeply in the pores of his body.

He lets out a sigh, his cheeks still red from the shower and finishs drying his buzzed head and neck with a towel. His wings moves from time to time to dry themselves from the remaining drops of water in them. Lazing throwing the towel back in the bathroom - hopefully in the laundry basket -, Tom adjusts his sweatpants and gazes at the silent and dark bedroom, guessing (Y/N) is still putting Dottie and Al to bed.

Taking advantage of it, the devil man flops down on the bed on his back. Sighing another time once he feels the fresh silk sheets under his skin, all his muscles even the thinest ones de-stress together. His wingspan unfolded is for sure impressive, covering all the bed in its length but the black feathers matching beautifully with the dark red silk sheets.

Complete silence. Only his slow breathing calming down as he closes his eyes, now taken into total darkness. Sometimes Tom remembers some of this kind of days, like today, when tones of judgements had to be done and then sentences to fall right after. And after he would just be like he is now, trying his best to empty his mind. Alone. And the next day, the same episode would repeat over and over again. Always alone.

But not anymore.

The faint click of the bedroom door opening takes Tom out of this thoughts as he slowly opens one eye to look towards it. Silently, (Y/N) appears and closes the door without a sound as soon as she steps a foot in the room. Then she turns to see her husband lazily laying on the bed, letting a little chuckle at the sight.

Such a pleasant sound. The demon King could hear his wife laugh all day, it is pure music to his ears and so much soothing. Sounding divine as looking heavenly.

Tom stares at (Y/N) from the bed noticing her wearing the bronze-nude coloured silk robe he offered her after Al’s birth, loosely tied up. This soft colour, almost looking gold, perfectly enhance her angelic figure as well as her magnificent white wings. His eyes then rakes over her body starting with her beautiful face to her shoulders then her voluptuous breasts, which now press more against the robe and finally down to the swelling of her stomach, which also stretches the silky fabric around her hips.

Tom bits his lip at this sight as he eyes the bump with a lustful look. In addition to not spending endless days and nights alone, feeling downhearted and helpless, (Y/N) is now blessing him with a third child, extending their happy family even more for both their enjoyment but also for the kingdom. The young man feels powerful like he never was, but mostly happy.

All this thanks to (Y/N) without whom nothing of this would have been possible.

“You’re done showering, darling?” asks the angel with her delicate voice, to which Tom simply nods. “Good. And the children are finally asleep.”

(Y/N) slightly stretches, a hand low on her back as she arches it to relieve some muscles. Recently Tom starts noticing some changes in his wife’s everyday life, such as flying more often when she could instead of walking, taking more naps and baths than usual, tiredness showing in her eyes or constantly stretching her back like right now. This being her third pregnancy it may seem understandable at some point, but Tom couldn’t help but worry about her well-being.

❞ Did you take a bath before lunch, love? ❞ wonders Tom as sitting normally on the bed.

“I did, yes but it only eased my back pain for two hours or so... And now, my stomach feels a bit swollen and heavy” sighs (Y/N), frowning a little.

She leans her head on one side while looking at Tom with an exasperated face. Her arms are crossed under her breasts, unintentionally opening the robe more on her accentuated cleavage. Being the perfect husband he is, Tom knows he has to do something... something that would help both of them, actually. It is like he almost planned in advance what is about to happen, wishing it with all his heart.

❞ Come here, sweetheart ❞ Tom breaths also tilting his head on his shoulder, his now hungry eyes never leaving (Y/N).

After slowly swaying her luscious hips while walking to him, (Y/N) then stops to stand in front of her husband, standing between his legs. She then could see his eyes darken as they trail down her body and stop at the swell of her belly that is now showing more than last month.

Knowing perfectly the effect she has on him, (Y/N) exhales longly which makes the robe slide from her shoulders and expose more skin of her upper body. She then run her left hand over the bump, the wedding ring shining brightly as it reflects naturally even with the lack of light in the room. Tom can’t help his hands to rest on the back of her thighs, fidgeting with the fabric of her robe still in between his caresses. Then the angel smiles when Tom’s mouth falls open to release a groan.

❞ Fuck. Get over here. Now. ❞

Tom pats his thigh and (Y/N) could just oblige, balancing her hands on both his shoulders. He grins up at his wife as she climbs onto his laps, both legs on the outside of his thighs to straddle him.

Immediately his hands find their way to her hips, still caressing a little over the silk material of the robe before he just unties it. And Tom couldn’t suppress the satisfied grin on his face as her matching nightgown appears in front of him. His angel being pregnant makes the fabric tighten around her breast and stomach, as much as its slightly raises to mid-thigh.

Tom then guides her to sit fully down on his thighs and chuckles when she sighs at the feeling. (Y/N) slowly flaps her white wings and takes her robe fully off, even around them, the clothing item cascading along her arms before falling at Tom’s feet.

❞ Comfortable like this? ❞ the demon asks cautiously, eyeing his wife’s face for any indication as to how she is feeling or what she is thinking about.

(Y/N) looks down at him with a small smile on her face, nodding. The chill air in the bedroom gives her goosebumps. She traces her hands over his broad shoulders, not without admiring his naked and muscular torso, before wandering her delicate fingers at the base of his nape. Tom’s eyes close once he feels her start to massage his buzzed scalp, and hums in pleasure.

He always loves to feel her hands on him, in general. It never fails to make his "friend down there” throb from excitement.

❞ (Y/N)… ❞

Tom whispers as he reaches up to grab the angel’s left hand before bringing it to his lips. He places a soft kiss on the golden ring, powerful symbol of their love and union, before brushing his rough but still soft lips over her knuckles. He turns her hand over so he can drag his lips across the gentle skin of her wrists, as his eyes stare deeply at her face.

When his lips continue to brush higher on her arm, he hears a sigh leave (Y/N)’s plush lips and watches as her eyes suddenly drop closed. Tom smiles softly against her skin.

❞ My beautiful wife and queen... ❞ he mumbles, never stopping his trail up the skin of her arm before moving to the other one, doing the same straight away. ❞ The strongest woman I know... So selfless... ❞ Tom pulls away from her skin to thread his fingers through her long hair and cradles the back of her neck in his hands.

❞ ... and all mine. ❞

With such sudden fervour, Tom brings (Y/N)’s mouth to his and kisses her, long and passionate. The angel melt in his arms, following his every lead as he bites her bottom lip. (Y/N) willingly opens your mouth to allow his tongue to battle with hers. She gasps in his mouth when he removes a hand from her hair to cradle her bottom, pulling her closer to him.

“T-Tom” she moans, kissing her husband with such urgency.

In all honesty, they did not have sex in two months - if not more which may be more actually and quite surprising - because taking care of one child is kinda alright, but two... is completely another story. And ever since (Y/N) got pregnant of their third one, Tom also had a lot of work to deal with while Dottie and Al still need a lot of attention. Constantly. So basically both adults were lately busy every day, the intimate time passing after anything else... and being almost forgotten, in then end.

Until now (Y/N) has not noticed how much she actually missed feeling Tom’s hot skin against her bare body. Being intimate with him is something otherworldly because, on top of knowing her body so well, the young woman feels secure in his arms. She always had. And in return, Tom would use that to his advantage whenever he wants to show (Y/N) exactly how he feels about her.

There is never a day that (Y/N) would ever get sick of being with the King of Hell, her husband. Totally unthinkable.

❞ You have no clue what you do to me, doll ❞ he growls, pulling away from her lips to trail his kisses across her jaw. ❞ I don’t know what I ever did to deserve you... How I got so lucky... ❞ Tom whispers against her ear before returning to ravish the skin of her neck with his teeth and tongue.

(Y/N) moans breathlessly when his tongue drags across her sweet spot before he sucks the patch of skin between his teeth.

“I’m the the lucky one, baby” she breathes out, bringing her hands back to his head. “You’ve been through so much all these past years, and yet you still find time for me and our children, even when I may not be in the best mood. There is no luckier person here than me.”

Tom’s eyes begin to burn as he pulls away from her neck and places his forehead against hers to look straight in the eyes.

❞ The shit I’ve put you through is nothing anyone should have to ever go through, and yet you’ve handled it all with such grace. Like the perfect Queen you are. There’s no one I admire and cherish more than you, (Y/N). You mean the world to me, darling. ❞

His hands move to cover the expanse of her swollen belly underneath her nightgown as he starts to caress the skin with his thumbs.

❞ You, Dottie, Al and this baby. ❞

Her lip trembles at his words, vision growing blurry with fresh tears. The love (Y/N) has for this man is indescribable. There were no words ever created to explain everything he means to her. He is everything she has ever needed and so much more. And knowing that he loves his kids just as much is definitely one of the best feelings in the world.

“God, I can’t even describe how much you mean to me, Tom. Truly, words do not compare” (Y/N) whispers to him, lips brushing against his as he smiles.

❞ Oh trust me, I know exactly how you feel ❞ the devil man chuckles, running his hands up and down her sides beneath the fabric.

There was a moment of silence between the two of them. Pure calm and solitude while Tom hold (Y/N) in his arms and ran his hands over her body. By now the two of them spent enough time together to memorise each other’s conducts during certain times. So, once Tom breathes softly against her neck, she knows the angel has to hear for herself exactly what is going through his head.

“What are you thinking about, baby?” (Y/N) inquires, pulling away to clearly see his face.

His coffee eyes are still dark, his chest heaving against her lush one. He could still feel her clothed heat against his thighs and now that they are so close, he could feel her stomach flat against his, the bump brushing against his naked abs.

He chuckles breathily before running a hand on top of his head, which creates a scratching noice under his palm.

❞ Would it be crude of me to say that your swollen stomach makes me hard? ❞

(Y/N) gasps in shock at his words, not expecting them in the slightest. Tom looks up at his angelic wife with a mischievous glint in his honey brown orbs, and she couldn’t help but then giggle at his typical cheeky attitude.

“It would but then again, you wouldn’t be Tom if you weren’t at least a little crude at times” she teases as she laughs when he feigns offense.

❞ Ooh you are in for it now, angel! ❞

Suddenly Tom chides before grabbing (Y/N) by the thighs and gently roll their bodies onto the bed, him being now on top of her. The angel squeals at the same time, her legs wrapped tightly around his waist and arms winding around his neck.

He smiles down at her before moving down to kiss her, his lips gliding effortlessly against her mouth. The demon king loves to take her breath away with just a touch of his lips. Tom smiles against the angel’s lips while still gliding his lips across hers.

❞ Hope you’re ready, I’m about to rock the world of my gorgeous pregnant queen tonight ❞ Tom grins widely when (Y/N) lets out a loud laugh at his words.

“You’re being cheesy tonight, I see?” she giggles, her cheeks stretching widely to accommodate to the large grin on her perfect face.

Tom admires the glint of happiness in her eyes, with an ounce of mischief too, and tries to process the fact that he is the one and only man making this divine creature beneath him so happy.

❞ Yeah but I mean, you love that about me ❞ the man smirks, kissing (Y/N) on the corners of her mouth then cheeks, forehead and lastly her nose. ❞ And you signed up to it all when you married me so, no going back now pretty lady.❞

Her eyes flutter because of all his kisses, then she smiles softly at her husband.

“Oh yes, I did” she chuckles before continuing “And I love you with all my heart. And I always will” (Y/N) whispers, cupping his cheeks in her delicate hands before running her fingers over his defined cheekbones and jawline.

Tom can’t stop his eyes from burning with passion as his wife proclames her love for him once again.

❞ I love you ❞ he mumbles before capturing her lips for a passionate kiss.

Tom navigates his body fully between her legs, swallowing the strangled moan his angel release when he rolls his hips against her sore one. He then begins to push the silk fabric of her nightgown up to finally reveal her stomach, before he proceeds to cradle her soft visage in one hand while he places the other flat against her round and swollen belly.

He just growls when he feels the bump against his warm palm and pulls away from (Y/N)’s lips. He continues by devouring her neck as he pushes the nightdress higher up to reveal your bare breasts. The demon pulls away from her neck and stares down at her tempting curves and groans, his cock twitching at the sight.

❞ So fucking gorgeous ❞ Tom states breathlessly, reaching up to engulf gently her sensitive breasts in his large hands to massage them. His cock hardens and twitches again when (Y/N) moans from his touch, arching her back and rolling her hips against his to create some friction.

Tom grunts as he feels (Y/N) drag her hips against his still clothed hard-on and decides that both of them are wearing too many clothes for his liking.

He removes his hands from her breasts and tugs the nightdress over her head. The angel then leans up in order to let him take it off entirely, her white wings adjusting on her back. At the same time she also enjoys the sight of him, already standing half naked over her, his perfectly sculpted chest and abs making her bite her lip and almost drool.

Her husband is indeed handsome, breathtakingly beautiful, the scars on his back and shoulders only magnifying that beauty. Every time (Y/N) sees the multiple cuts he tried to hide at the beginning, all she wants to do is kiss every single one to remind her king that he should never be ashamed of them. Ever.

(Y/N) unconsciously licks her lips as she admires him. Tom catches it and smirks down at his wife, newfound confidence surging through his veins. She never fails to make him feel good about himself. One simple look needed and he could tell (Y/N) loves him no matter the scars on his body or who he is.

❞ Like what ya see, gorgeous? ❞ Tom rasps as he runs his hands up her sides, smirking when he feels her shiver beneath his touch.

“Always, baby.”

(Y/N) watches as he smiles ardently at her before he reaches up to cup her right cheek in his hand. He runs his thumb along your cheekbone and then drags the pad of his calloused finger across her bottom lip. The angel slightly turns her head into his palm and starts leaving open mouthed kisses onto it, as her hands wrap around his wrist to maintain him in place.

His eyes darken as watches (Y/N) starts lightly biting the skin of his palm, and then giving it little kitten licks. Tom curses softly when he feels his cock twitch painfully in his now too tight sweatpants, and he knows he can’t wait any longer.

Tom wants her so bad. He needs to have her. Right here, right now. Just the thought of feeling her wet insides flutter around his pulsing member takes the demon to some unholy places in his mind. And he loves it.

Almost reluctantly Tom removes his hand from her mouth and bends down to sloppily lick one of your sensitive nipples.

He hears (Y/N) gasp loudly before he sees her back arch, pushing her breast further into his mouth as he wraps his lips around the now hardening bud.

“Aah, Tommy-” she moans, trying her best to grind her hips against his.

When Tom feels her struggling to get some relief, he pulls away from her nipple with a loud ‘pop’. The angel starts letting out little whines at the loss of his hot tongue on her body.

❞ Worry not, my Queen ❞ Tom says huskily as he finally decides to tug her thin lace panties down her impeccable legs, revealing the secret garden that is her dripping heat to his hungry eyes. ❞ I will take good care of you, like I always do. ❞

He doesn’t tear his lustful gaze away from her, in awe as (Y/N) pants loudly underneath him. Tom then removes his sweatpants, not caring to untie them before hand, the fabric falling on the ground to now expose his naked glory because he definitely went commando after his shower.

The young queen gasps at the obscene yet erotic sight of his hard cock staying flat against his stomach, the tip red and swollen, leaking precum. She feels wetness pool between her legs and just moan, eyeing his hand as it wraps around his length and begins to pump slowly.

Tom eyes (Y/N)’s body hungrily from above her, moving his unoccupied hand to her pussy where he spreads her wet lips to rub her clit with his thumb, not without paying close attention to any sign of discomfort coming from his pregnant wife.

(Y/N) squeals, rolling her hips against his hand as much as her body allows her to, while Tom drags his fingers between her folds and massages her clit. When the angel feels him enter one finger into her clenching hole, she throws her head back and arches even more against his hand.

❞ Fuck baby girl, you are so wet ❞ Tom groans, pumping his hand faster around his cock.

“Tommy- Oh my-!” (Y/N) nearly screams when he adds another finger and pumps them harder and deeper into her warm insides.

Tom’s eyes widen when he looks back at her round stomach, which moves rapidly up and down as she breathes deeply. He feels his cock twitch in his hand and lets out a rough grunt, suddenly taking his fingers out of her core and removing his hand from himself.

❞ That’s it, I can’t fucking take anymore ❞ he growls, positioning himself between (Y/N)’s legs. He then gently grabs the back of her knees to pull her towards him, the angel whining when his hard cock brushes close to her core.

“Please take me, Tommy. I’m all yours, please” (Y/N) moans as she rolls her hips against his cock.

Tom feels like coming straight away but he resists somehow, instead brushing his pulsing member between her wet folds and flicking the head against her clit.

The demon king hovers over his wife’s body, placing his forehead against hers and balancing on his arms on each side of her head as he places the tip of his cock at her entrance. He looks into her bright eyes when he slowly enters the angel, her walls stretching deliciously around him.

Both beings moan in unison before Tom leans down to capture (Y/N)’s lips, swallowing every choked cries and whines as he begins to thrust in and out of her.

“Ooh Tommy, oh, aah-” she gasps breathlessly when he slams his hips into her bloated one.

❞ (Y/N)- ❞ Tom moans in return, pulling away to drop his head on her shoulder. He kisses the soft skin of her shoulder before thrusting faster and groaning into her skin. ❞ You are the best thing that ever happened to me, baby girl. ❞

His words bring tears to her eyes, thanks to the messy pregnant’s hormones, and (Y/N) almost releases a cry as she pushes her hips in hope to meet with his thrusts. She can feel every ridge and thick vein of his cock as he drives it into her and the purely euphoric feeling makes her dizzy. The angel grabs onto Tom, wrapping an arm around his broad shoulders and running a hand through his entire face, his thrusts intensifying even more.

“You are my world, Tommy. I love your more than anything and I promise to stay by your side until the end of the world” (Y/N) moans in his ear, reassuring him.

Tom grunts at his wife’s words, all kind of emotions mixing up in his head as he makes love to (Y/N). Suddenly, he slows his pace a little so now he is rocking into her deep and hard. She whines desperately at this change, grinding against his skin.

The demon pulls himself up so he can look between their bodies, carefully watching as he thrusts slowly in and out of her wet pussy. Then his brown eyes land on her visible baby bump and Tom feels himself pulse inside of her as his eyes roll into his head. He moans loudly, moving a hand between both their bodies to flatten it against her stomach.

❞ Shit angel, I’m s-so lucky to have you... The four of you” Tom almost whines, rolling his hips harder into hers as his pelvic now brushes against her clit.

“Tommy, I’m so close! Aah-” (Y/N) cries out at the feeling and throw her head back, arching against him more.

She then gasps when he growls violently before speeding up his thrusts again and literally drilling into her. (Y/N) grabs onto him tightly and drags her nails against his scalp, stealing a grunt from his chest.

Tom sloppily links his lips with hers when he feels the angel clench tightly around him, so he thrusts deeper and faster before moving the hand that was on her stomach to her clit.

❞ Come for me, my gorgeous wife. My gorgeous queen. Come for me ❞ Tom growls in her ear, rubbing her clit vigorously.

(Y/N) screams at the never stopping stimulation. Her legs start trembling and body shaking as she clenches around his member, coating his cock in cum as she finally reaches her orgasm. Tom watches closely as she comes undone beneath him and lets out a moan, his hips faltering as he releases his seed inside of her tight insides.

He flattens his hand on her belly, feeling the warm and sweaty skin of her baby bump again and comes harder, biting his bottom lip to prevent himself to be too vocal this late at night. Endless streams of his come splash against her walls, their juices mixing together, and Tom rides out both their orgasms until he just collapses his upper body on top of (Y/N).

“Oh lord, Tom, you’re heavy!” the angel huffs as she then giggles at her husband.

Tom only hums in response, his voice slightly hoarse from their previous activity, while wrapping his strong arms around her body. But not feeling too well in this position - also not to accidentally hurt (Y/N) -, Tom slowly lets himself slide on the sheet to now snuggle up against his wife’s frame, remaining inside of her.

(Y/N) looks up at him through her post-orgasmic vision and is pleased to notice him just cuddling onto her with closed eyes, his chest heaving with exhaustion. As a kind smile makes its way to her face, she leans up to kiss his jaw which makes him sigh gently.

“You are amazing Tom, in every way. An amazing king, husband and father. I am so proud of you” (Y/N) softly whispers to him, brushing delicately her fingers against his cheek.

The angel then proceeds to move her hand higher and massage his head, feeling the short buzzed hair brush her palm and paying extra attention to his nape, a bit sweaty. After enjoying her pleasant caresses, Tom opens one of his eyes to peak at the angel.

❞ I would be nothing without you, baby. Just useless, an empty envelop with no reason to live. ❞

(Y/N) looks absolutely breathtaking to him, and since the day they met. The amazing post-orgasmic glow that suits her so well is something he could look at for years. Her lips swollen and impossibly red like her cheeks, hair a mess and eyes half closed. And not forgetting her naked figure which the demon loves to worship during these intimate times, shining with sweat but still an absolute delicacy that only him can savour as he wants.

(Y/N) can feel him start to get slightly hard again when he brushes his fingers over her pregnant stomach. As his face never leaves its comfy place on her chest, the demon king silently wishes to feel his unborn heir move under his touch. His wife continues to leave kisses on his sweaty forehead, closing her tired eyes, almost falling asleep in the lovely embrace of her husband.

❞ ... I’m guessing your stomach doesn’t hurt anymore? ❞

Intrigued by this question, (Y/N) slowly reopens her eyes to lower her gaze on Tom’s face. As she raises her eyebrows, she has no time to answer before Tom speaks again.

❞ Sex is definitely THE best option to ease pregnancy pains. Not like I’m gonna complain about it. ❞

"You better prepare a warm bubbly bath for us and carry me there, before I get upset” states (Y/N), her cheeks even redder now because of Tom’s stupid comment.

And the devil king can’t suppress his cheeky smirk as his wife avoids his gaze, still being cute.

❞ Your wish is my command, my Queen! ❞

* * * *

The bedroom is still plunged into darkness, but the daylight manages to make its way through an open spot left by the curtains. Humming as she slowly wakes up, (Y/N) blinks a few times before staring at the ceiling of the bedroom. Her hands go to her belly by instinct, massaging it as she draws circles on it, before she turns her head towards Tom.

Still fast asleep, the demon king did not move since they both went to sleep - after taking another bath together and dressing up for the night. His build frame stays on the side, an arm under (Y/N)’s head and his free hand resting at the bottom of her now covered stomach.

(Y/N) brushes her plump lips on his chin to then leave a light kiss on his lips, carefully to not wake him up. She links one of her hands with his own that stays on her stomach, intertwining their fingers.

But as the young queen tries to fall back asleep, her mother’s intuition goes on alert and her head turns towards the door of the bedroom. No sound can be heard on the other side of the room, only a deep and calm silence that resonates in the whole castle. When suddenly...

*tap tap tap*

The almost faint noise of footsteps slowly increase in the corridor, now catching the full attention of (Y/N). One corner of her lips raises, perfectly knowing the owners of this sound. Tom still being in the arms of Morpheus, mouth parted enough to let some soft snores at times, the angel prefers to not move until the “special guests” make their final appearance.

And speak of the devil (no pun intended, or not)...

The doorknob starts to slowly turn, creating a quick and discreet ‘click’ which allows the door to finally open. (Y/N) keeps watching closely towards it, trying to see through the half-open door. And as expected, a double pair of eyes can be seen, a bit sleepy, and little by little two very familiar round faces appear.

Dottie and Al immediately find their mother’s eyes as if asking for her permission to enter the matrimonial bedroom. After warmly allowing both her children with a nod and a smile, the two tiny beings make their way inside, Dottie making sure to silently close the door behind her little brother and her, and then fly together towards their parents.

As they kiss their mother on the cheek and tummy - because they already care a lot about their unborn brother or sister -, little Al notices his father still sound asleep between the sheets. Not needing to be asked twice, the little boy careful goes between both his parents’ bodies and tries to make himself some place as he goes under the cover. Tom lightly groans at the movements next to him, but only secures his grip tighter around his wife plus now his young son. (Y/N) then opens the sheets with her free hand, inviting her daughter to join their cuddle. Dottie goes also under the warm sheet, getting close to her mum and snuggling against her. Feeling yet another presence in the bed, Tom’s hand which already maintain (Y/N) and Al close to him now reaches for his daughter.

The silence of the early morning remains still. (Y/N) lets out a pleased sigh, getting even more confortable between the soft warmth of the bed and her loving family. Slowly, sleep overcomes her and her children all over again, soon joining the head of the family for another resting time into dreamland.

Who could have thought about having this delightful type of afterlife?

* * * *

Ten months later.

« « Who’s the most beautifuuuuuul baby of all time? » »

❞ Give me back my daughter, Z... ❞

Happy babbles echo in the living room, animated first by Tom who tries to take back his five-month daughter Mia from Zendaya’s grasp, and on the other hand Dottie and Al playing together next to the group of adults.

(Y/N) sat on the large couch next to her husband, giggling at his attitude as he almost makes grabby hands to Zendaya, hoping she would finally give the newly born child to him. (Y/N) lovingly caresses his back, getting close to him and eyeing her third child in the arms of her trustful friend from Heaven.

“Thank you for visiting us, Zendaya” begins (Y/N), “Mia seems to like you already.”

« « Obviously she loves her godmother a lot, right little one? » » smiles Zendaya as she keeps smiling widely to the baby, tickling her tummy to make little Mia show her toothless smile again.

Tom couldn’t help the grown leaving his mouth, lightly banging his head against (Y/N)’s. The angel queen kisses his temple in hope of appeasing her husband’s pouting face.

On Mia’s back, two tiny wings start growing slowly. The colour of her feathers is still undetermined but it may be a mix of white and black ones, like her eldest sister and brother. Mia’s features will for sure be a beautiful mix of her parents, her eyes already big and kind like her mother’s and deep brown like her father’s.

Harrison enters the living room, bringing a rolling cart with different drinks and delicacies on it. Both Dottie and Al stop playing as they hear it coming their way, their throat dry and little stomach empty after so much playtime. Dottie stands first and waits for Harrison to stop the cart, meanwhile Al goes to his father asking for some attention. The demon king immediately takes his son in his arms, sitting him on his laps.

‘Can I get some apple juice for Al and I, please Haz?’ Dottie politely asks the demon.

‘ Of course, dear. Right away. ‘

Dottie brings the first glass to her brother, carefully passing it in his little hands before asking the others if they want to drink something too.

“Just a glass of water for me, sweetheart. Dad will share his wine with me.”

❞ Hmm, I still need to think about that, beautiful ❞ replies Tom with a cheeky tone, while slowly kissing his wife’s cheek which makes her chuckle.

« « Don’t get all lovey-dovey in front of your kids, dammit. Gross, ew! Al, look at auntie Daya. » »

❞ Don’t swear in front of my children! ❞

Once everyone got served their drink, Dottie flies back to her mother to sit on her laps, enjoying her apple juice as she vividly looks at everyone but mostly at her new little sister. Then Harrison prepares two little plates to fill with some homemade cakes for both his godchildren.

❞ Honestly, Harrison is killin’ it at being a good godfather with the kids. They might start loving him more than you if you- ❞

« « Shut up, Hell Boy » » interrupts Zendaya, upset but still with her usual sass.

“The kids would love to see you more often, Zendaya” softly takes part (Y/N) while sipping into Tom’s wine glass before giving it back to him.

Zendaya deeply sighs and looks at little Mia catching Al’s index finger into her tiny fist. She brushes the baby’s wild growing hair back while caressing the tender rosy skin with her finger, not helping the smile on her face.

« « I know, (Y/N) and I want to but sometimes, I’m just overflowing under work. It’s not easy to be a Superior Angel, trust me. » »

❞ Being the King of Hell AND a father at the same time is not easy either, trust me on that ❞ sighs Tom back, ❞ But I’ve never been happier so I can’t complain at all. ❞

Tom smiles lovingly at (Y/N), making the angel sit closer to him and snuggle her face against his. Dottie also cuddles with Al as the two siblings look at little Mia, who constantly watches around anything that happens.

The scene warms Zendaya’s heart.

« « Also, you are all welcome to come to Heaven, you know that, right? Mostly because of business talk and all that jazz, but the Superiors would be glad to meet little Mia too » » continues Zendaya as she strokes Mia’s cheek.

“We were actually discussing about it with Tom the other day” says (Y/N), sorting out the feather’s mess of her children because of their last playing session. “Dottie and Al want to visit Heaven again too, am I right?”

‘YES PLEASE!’ both Dottie and Al screams together, little Al saying something like that because he is still too young to talk properly.

(Y/N) and Zendaya laugh at so much energy coming from the children. As Tom put his now empty glass away, he nods to Harrison to join them on the couch as he slides an arm around (Y/N)’s shoulders and kisses her cheek.

Heaven and Hell might be opposite places with different rules and ways of thinking.

But in the end, they both have the same goal: giving the right afterlife to people, and fixing their faults when mistakes were done.

- - - END OF ‘HEAVENLY YOURS’ MINI SERIES - - -

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milasartblog · 3 years

Text

An unexpected visit (part 6)

As Lilith held Gabriel’s hand tightly, they finally reached to the place where one of the greatest beasts of Hell rests - Cerberus. Little nervs ran on Gabriel’s skin as various images of the beast crossed his mind. Lilith looked at her brother as smirked.

Lilith: Scared?~

Gabriel: What? No, n-not at all! What can possibly scare an archangel like me?

Lilith: Mmm, I don’t know, maybe a huge three-headed dog with demonic powers and unpredictable character?~

Gabriel swallowed heavily as Lilith giggled while opening the door.

Lilith: I’m just teasing you, no need to be that defencive~

Gabriel: I know to what all your “teasing” leads to.

Lilith laughed softly as they entered the room. It was different from the rest of the rooms: huge, spacious, with different toys lying around the room and a great bowl standing in the middle. Only several candles illuminated the room. The carmine walls gave the atmosphere of suddenness, like at anytime something or someone will jump at you. Gabriel’s hand trembled, awaiting to launch the spear at any moment.

Lilith: Well, here we are~

Gabriel: That’s...great. Are you sure it’s the room of Lucifer’s pet? The room doesn’t sound welcoming.

Lilith: That’s Hell for you, brother~ Oh Cerberuuuus~

She called the animal by its name, which made Gabriel even more nervous, clenching all the muscles of his body. A loud growl could be heard in the darkness, not far from Lilith and Gabriel. Then, heavy steps followed the noise, revealing the silhouette of the big dog. The archangel took several steps back slowly as Lilith stood still, watching the scene. Finally, the great three-headed dog stood in all its glory, looking at unexpected guests. Gabriel swallowed heavily, examining the dog.

Gabriel: This is....Lucifer’s pet??

Lilith: Yep~ Cerberus, meet your owner’s brother Gabriel~

Cerberus looked puzzled and with little distrust at the archangel, who was stood in the defence position. One of its heads bended to sniff Gabriel, which made him step back a bit more.

Lilith: Aww, don’t be that cold to Cerberus~ He will just sniff you~

Gabriel: Y-yeah sure, everyone says that.

Lilith smirked as walked closer to Cerberus. The other head lended to Lilith, sniffing her and then waving his tail happily, allowing her to pet him, which Lilith did with pleasure.

LIlith: See?~ It doesn’t bite~

Gabriel: I’m sure it does!

Lilith:...Fine, one of the head bites. Care to find out?~

Gabriel: Hey!

Lilith laughed as keeps petting Cerberus. Gabriel looked at the dog again, trying not to do any sharp moves. The pet examined Gabriel too as one of the head got closer to him, sniffing everything.

Gabriel: Umm, isn’t it a bit too personal?

Lilith: It’s a dog, they have to do it in order to know what kind of person you are~

Gabriel: I noticed it.

For a couple of minutes Cerberus was analysing the guest until he took his casual position, which confused Gabriel.

Gabriel: Umm, what is he doing now?

Lilith: Nothing, he just doesn’t see a threat in you~ Try to give him a hand~

Gabriel: What??? Do you want him to bite me already??

Lilith: You never know unless you try~ C’mon, or you’re chicken~

The last word made Gabriel feel irritated as looked at Cerberus, who was looking at him back puzzled. As the archangel swallowed heavily, he slowly and carefully lent a hand to the pet. Not expecting such gesture, all three heads approached closer and carefully to sniff the hand. Gabriel trembled, waiting any moment for the move, but suddenly...one of the heads licked his hand happily. Because of the huge tongue the whole arm was wet, which made Gabriel jump a bit back, waving his arm to remove the liquid.

Gabriel: Ewww, it’s gross.

Lilith: Oh my~ Seems like someone recognized a good person in you~

Gabriel was about to add something, but other two heads began to lick him too, which stunned the archangel and surprised Lilith.

Gabriel: Hey hey, that tickles!

Lilith: Wow~ Did you have a special charm that we didn’t know?~

Gabriel: I didn’t even use any powers here!

Cerberus stopped licking for a moment, waving his tail happily while Gabriel stood still and wet. Lilith couldn’t stop giggling.

Gabriel: Great, it will take couple of weeks to wash my clothes.

Lilith: Awww, it’s so adorable~ Seems like Cerberus likes you~ Is it because of your angelic appearance?

Gabriel: I...don’t think so? I mean, I didn’t even use any powers to summon a spear.

Lilith: True. I guess it’s because you’re our brother and Cerberus doesn’t see a threat in dearest to his owner people like you.

Gabriel: You think so?

He dried his clothes and his face as Cerberus kept looking at Gabriel and waving happily. The fear that was inside the archangel changed into...curiousity. Gabriel still was defencive, but less than before. He tried to give his hand to the beast again, and this time Cerberus allowed him to pet their heads, which surprised Gabriel and made Lilith smile.

Lilith: See? I told you he is not that scary and doesn’t bite~ Well, doesn’t bite good people~

Gabriel: I....My expectations were broken again, it seems. I didn’t know Lucifer has such side. And that Hell can have such pets.

Lilith: Well, not all animals in Hell are as friendly as Lucifer’s Cerberus. Even he was not that friendly before.

Gabriel: Really?

Lilith: Yeah....If you’re curious I can tell you. And I’m not teasing you this time, it’s true.

Gabriel looked at upset Lilith, then back at Cerberus. He analyzed the appearance of the pet. Even being friendly now, Cerberus was still one of the beasts of Hell, and the look showed it so well. One side desired to know the past of the dog, but the other side wished to not ruin the moment they’re having now, leaving it as a reason for the next time visit.

Gabriel: No need to.

Lilith: Huh?

Gabriel: Maybe next time, when I pay a visit here. Plus, I’m sure that Cerberus would not like to hear about its own past now.

These words surprised the queen. She didn’t expect Gabriel to say such words after his stereotypes and views were broken immediately. Did he learn how to react properly in such short time? Meanwhile, Gabriel patted Cerberus again.

Gabriel: Don’t get me wrong, I’m still stunned by what you said, but...all my emotions were spent on that chat about our humans.

Lilith: I....I’m honestly impressed, Gabriel. You did grew up~

Such words made Gabriel surprise and...even blush a bit? After all this time when he felt like he lost his angelic pride, now he felt like he still can do something. Cerberus nuzzled Gabriel as came back to its sitting position. Gabriel smiled to the dog and then looked at Lilith.

Gabriel: Sister, it maybe will sound weird from your perspective, but...

Lilith: Mmmm?

Gabriel: I....I’m glad to have such chat with you, and...thank you for convincing me to look at things attentively and be less stubborn.

Lilith: It’s indeed weird to hear such words from an angel, but I’m glad that I could help you~ Anything for my brother~

Gabriel: Yeah. Well, now I better really come back as duties call me.

Lilith: Sure~ Gates of Heaven won’t guard themselves~

They giggled as Gabriel was about to go back, but stopped for a moment. LIlith noticed it as Gabriel looked down. It made the queen confused as she was about to ask Gabriel what happened, but suddenly...he hugged her tightly, which surprised Lilith and Cerberus.

Lilith: G-Gabriel?

Gabriel: Sorry, I just...I wanted to do it for a long time.

Lilith surprised even more, but after a couple of seconds she hugged him back, trying to hold her tears. But not from sadness, from happiness.

Lilith: It’s okay, brother...it’s okay.

They stood like this for some time before Gabriel could finally come back to Heaven. Cerberus whined sadly a bit as Lilith patted him.

LIlith: No worries, he will visit us again. He just needs time to think and build himself from the start~

She smiled to Cerberus as suddenly heard a sound of opening door. Sound of the footsteps were recognizable for the queen. It was king of Hell, coming back from his duties.

Lilith: Look who came back from work~

Lucifer: Lilith? I didn’t expect to see you here.

Lilith: I just thought to pay a visit to the best boy of Hell~

Lucifer: Hehe, he sure is~

He walked closer to Cerberus as the dog greeted his owner happily, licking ad nuzzling him.

Lilith: How was the work?~

Lucifer: Well, it could be fine if not one angel ruining me fun.

Lilith: Let me guess, it was Gabriel~

Lucifer: Who else would it be? Everytime I want to be alone with Michael, he always stands between us and lecturing me. It seems like it will take centuries to persuade him to change his views.

Lilith: I predict that it will happen sooner than you expect~

Lucifer: Huh? What do you mean?

Lilith: Just my thoughts, don’t pay attention to them~ Well, I will go back to my duties. Jikan told me about one issue that needs to be solved~

And she walked back to her office, leaving puzzled Lucifer with his pet. While walking, Lilith couldn’t help, but smile after realizing that despite different views, Gabriel is still capable to trust his siblings, even if they’re already demons. It was only one step, but she hopes that one day Gabriel will learn to look at Hell and things in other perspectives.

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

And that's the last part of the story^^ It took longer than i expected, but finally did it XD Hope you will enjoy it^^ The summary of the story: Gabriel's stereotypes are crashed XD

Gabriel, Lucifer and Cerberus belong to @wildstarfan and @milasartblog (both me)

Lilith belongs to @wildstarfan and @captainthane

Okaria et Feria belongs to @wildstarfan and @captainthane

#my art #oc #oc character #okaria et feria #demon #lilith #queen of succubi #queen of hell #archangel #gabriel #cerberus #dog #meeting #chat #visit #sibling

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i-see-thevision · 5 years

Text

When Sparks Fly (M)

Part of ‘Heaven or Hell’ my Stray Kids Demon/Angel!au Series

Name: Bang Chan

Status: Demon

Special Abilities: Electrokinesis; Teleportation

Summary: In which you’re just a girl who finds solace in sitting on her terrace. And Chan is just a demon who’s become infatuated with how your legs swing.

Word Count: 8.3k

Warnings: Explicit Sexual Content; Unprotected Sex (Wrap it before you tap it kids!); Virgin!Reader; A tiny bit of violence; Technical stalking??; Chan being himself lmao

• • •

The world is a funny place.

At least that’s what you thought.

Being a newly turned 21 year old, the world expected you to be out drinking and partying every night. But here you sat, on the railing of the terrace of your apartment.

You had just barely moved in, and you have already spent more time out on the terrace than in your own home. But the beauty of fresh air couldn’t be compared to anything, not even the excitement of a new apartment. Which again, most would disagree with.

You sat watching the people below. Watching their interactions, their basic movements. You were high up enough that no one would bother looking up to see you but you could still see them clearly.

People nowadays were just so odd. Everyone was so self-indulgent and conceded, even if it was completely unintentional. You never really thought much of the saying “stop and smell the roses,” until you moved out on your own.

But it’s true. Getting lost in the big picture often prevents people from cherishing the small moments that make it all worthwhile. It’s appreciating those little things, those small moments, that make you a little different from most people.

Your thoughts were interrupted by your phone buzzing in your back pocket.

You pulled it out to see who it was. You rolled your eyes when you read your boss’s name. Not that you didn't like your boss, you did. She was very reasonable and quite sweet. But a call from her usually meant that someone called out last minute and you were going to have to fill in for them. And you were very much enjoying your quiet time out on the terrace. But despite your irritation, you slid your thumb across the screen.

“Good afternoon, Ms. Kwon.” Your voice sounding as cheery as ever.

“Good afternoon, Y/n! I hope you're liking your new apartment! I do have a favor to ask of you, Tess has called out sick and I need someone to cover her evening shift. Would you be able to come at six?”

“Sure thing, Ms. Kwon. I’ll cover for her.” You forcibly smiled even though she couldn't see you, listening to her words of thanks before hanging up.

As soon as the call ended you looked at the time. It was half past three.

With a heavy sigh, you stood up to go back inside. A shower was in order before work and you would need time to dry your hair.

By the time 5:30 rolled around, you were were on the bus and headed to the movie theater in which you worked.

• • •

Earth was a funny place.

At least that’s what Chan thought.

Chan was a demon, spending his days roaming around Earth because the whole ‘murdering humans for fun’ stereotype wasn't really his thing.

He was actually quite relaxed for a demon. Really only interacting with humans if he had to. He lived in an abandoned building just outside of Seoul, because generally, he wanted to stay away from humans.

Now from the outside, his place looked uninhabited and uninviting. Which was entirely his intention. But on the inside, he prided himself on making his place look like the inside of an Elle Decor magazine. It was quite modern but also had a retro flair to it. And despite him never having any guests, Chan still wanted his place to be impressive, even if it was just for him.

Chan’s desire to be isolated from humans but still near the closest big city was a bit contradictory, even to him. But the only reason he liked being so close to Seoul was his fascination for the city aesthetic.

He loved the city for its buildings, for its lights, for its bustling nature. He loved watching humans roam around the busy streets from the tops of buildings, wondering how one individual could live their life so entirely different from the next.

It puzzled him, how the strings of human lives could be so intertwined but still harbor the possibility of two never meeting.

The sound of thunder booming in the distance brought Chan out of his deep contemplation.

His gaze shifted upwards, holding his hand out to feel the oncoming rain drops. He pushed himself onto his feet, ready to make his escape from the down pour he could feel coming.

Not that he minded the rain, thunder storms were probably his favorite thing in the world, being as he could create and manipulate lighting. He was quite fond of the bright flashes that came like a rip in the inky night sky, as if behind the dark canvas was a brilliant light just waiting to flood through any crack no matter how small.

He found cover from the rain under the umbrella of a nearby table, right outside one of his favorite restaurants. He sat down in one of the chairs, content washing over him as he listened to the sound of the rain and thunder crackling above him.

He peeked his head out from underneath the umbrella from time to time, tensing his body and watching the lightning stay in the sky just a little longer than normal. He then let the energy from the storm fuel him, cupping his hands in front of him and watching little sparks form between them. A content sigh left his lips.

It was probably time to head home.

• • •

By the time your shift ended, you were exhausted. Completely wiped and ready to collapse onto your bed.

You checked the time on your phone as you waited quietly for the bus to arrive at the bus stop. It was twenty after midnight, and completely down pouring. You felt a chill flow through your body at the lowering temperature along with the creepy vibe of the city at night.

You watched as the bus pulled up, making a run for it as you did not have an umbrella with you.

No one else got on with you, probably due to the time of night, and there was just one other person already on the bus. So you sat right up front, knowing the drive to your apartment wouldn't be too long.

You quietly hummed to yourself as you watched the lights of signs and people walking the sidewalk pass by at an accelerated pace. Before you could even finish the song you were humming, which albeit was probably prolonged due to lack of concentration, you were getting off the bus at the bus stop closest to your house.

You thanked the bus driver as you stepped onto the sidewalk, making sure to wave at him before he drove off. You would consider yourself to be more polite than most but that’s simply because you believe that you should make up in areas others lacked.

You had no other choice but the let the rain drench you, only adding to the chill you already felt flowing through you.

The only thing on your mind on your walk to your apartment was your terrace. Thankfully you had an awning over yours, so you could be free to sit out there whether it be rain or shine. The thought of listening to the rain with a book and a mug of hot tea in hand, a blanket wrapped around your shoulders, the city lights in full view, hearing the thunder boom and watching the lighting flash across the night sky, was all you could think of. A calmness washed over you at the thought. Keeping you collected even while walking past the creepy dark alleyways you had to pass on your way home.

Despite the peaceful feeling, you noticed yourself letting out a breath of relief when you enter your apartment and lock the door behind you.

“Finally, some me time.” You sighed out loud, putting your bag on the ground next to the couch and walking into your kitchen. Immediately, you filled the kettle and put it on the stove to boil. You opened your cabinet of many teas and decided on chamomile, feeling like getting a good nights sleep tonight.

While waiting for the kettle to boil, you took a quick shower and changed into something more comfy and, quite frankly, less popcorn smelling.

You settled on a pair of leggings, a sweatshirt, and some thick fuzzy socks before you heard the kettle make its incessant whistling.

After turning the stove off, pouring the now boiling water in a mug and placing the tea bag in, you walked over to the sliding glass doors that stood between you and your terrace tea time.

Quickly grabbing a blanket from the couch, you slid open the door and stepped outside. The cool air immediately engulfed you, but you found the chill quite refreshing.

You didn't have any furniture out here yet, but you were planning on getting a loveseat or some recliners or something. For now though, you were content with simply sitting on the concrete with a blanket wrapped around you.

You took several sips of your tea, overlooking the city. Silently wondering if anyone else was up this late as well.

• • •

Chan watched his feet scuffle along the sidewalk, the rain completely soaking him from head to toe. But he intentionally did this, enjoying the feeling of walking home, despite him not having to.

A quiet bark caught Chan’s attention. Turning his head to the right, he noticed a small dog wagging its tail playfully at him. There was no one around with the little pup, he deduced. Maybe it’s a stray.

“Hey little guy, where’s your owner?” He smiles softly at the cute little dog, bending down to pet him. Without any fear, the very wet dog ran up to Chan, licking the hand he tried to pet him with. Chan laughed, noticing the dog had a collar.

“So you do have an owner?” Chan says while reading the address on the dog’s collar tag. “We better get you home then, huh?”

Chan was familiar with that street name, at least he was pretty sure it was the next street over. So he bent down to pick up the dog in his arms, holding him close to his chest.

“Alright bud, hold on tight.” Chan smirked before teleporting to where he thought he remembered seeing that street’s sign.

To his delight, he was correct. And the dog didn't seem too freaked out either, which was a plus. A lot of times with teleportation, it can feel odd if you’re not used to it. And especially with animals it’s tough, but this little guy seemed to be perfectly fine with it.

With his attention back on the world, he noticed a young man yelling out for his dog. Catching on rather quickly, Chan put the dog on the ground and watched as its ears perked up and it ran toward its owner. A smile etched its way onto his face as he watched the two reunite in the rain.

Chan turned to walk back to where he came from but stopped when he heard a soft, pretty voice humming from above him.

He shifted his gaze further up the apartment building, shielding his eyes from the rain with his hand, to see a girl. A blanket delicately hanging from her shoulders, a mug in hand, and her eyes glued to the city lights.

But specifically, he watched how her cute little legs were slid through the horizontal beams of the terrace she sat on, swinging softly.

It was long past midnight, and not at all warm outside. He wondered what exactly she was doing out in the rain this late at night.

She was pretty high up, and for whatever reason, Chan found himself teleporting to the terrace above hers to try and get a better look at the girl he suddenly became so fascinated with.

• • •

You were humming absentmindedly, kicking your feet and feeling the cold air surround them. The beautiful city lights had captured your attention the moment you sat down.

But soon enough your attention was drawn to the barking of a dog below you.

You looked down to see a guy around your age with shaggy blonde hair place a small dog on the ground, watching as it ran towards its owner whom you recognized, he lived a couple floors below you.

Your lips formed into a smile as the dog licked his owners already wet face, happy to be home. But then you looked at the guy who seemed to be responsible for reuniting the two. He was looking fondly at the two reuniting as well, just standing underneath the raindrops, a soft smile on his lips. You wondered why he didn't take credit for bringing the little guy back home, instead keeping his distance and turning to leave.

You then wondered what time it was, pulling your phone out of your sweatshirt pocket and checking the time.

1:14 AM

“Wow, I’ve been out here for quite a while now.” You then chuckled, “Guess I’m not the only one up so late.” Your gaze drifted back down to where the shaggy blonde stood, only to find him gone.

You looked around to find him maybe heading off in another direction. You only looked at your phone for all of 3 seconds, he couldn’t have gotten that far.

But no luck. He just... vanished.

An exaggerated sigh left your lips, irritated by the guy you suddenly found interesting and his sudden disappearance.

But nevertheless, you focused your gaze once more on the city lights. Smiling at the serenity you felt flow through you at just the sight of them.

“Absolutely breathtaking.” You sighed, completely content.

• • •

“Absolutely breathtaking.” Chan heard you sigh, feeling like you took the words right out of his mouth. However, you were referring to the city lights and well... he was referring to you.

The way the moon lit up your beautiful profile, your hair softly blowing in the stormy breeze. The way your soft voice would hum from time to time. The way your legs swung back and forth absentmindedly. You were mesmerizing.

Something emanated from you. A certain vibe, a certain aura.

It was calming, it was peaceful. And Chan felt like he just wanted to be closer to it, closer to you.

This was odd for Chan, seeing as he usually stayed away from humans. Not only that, but he felt that this sudden attraction towards you developed rather fast.

So he thought he should keep his distance from you, try to figure out if this was maybe just him feeling lonely and wanting some human interaction for whatever reason.

Infatuation doesn’t usually last very long, anyways.

• • •

“Sure, I can pick up Johnny’s shift tomorrow too.”

You said the words with a smile but felt agitation bubble inside you as you heard yourself say them.

“You are a Saint! I have to get going, you don’t mind closing up for me do you?” Your manager said as she picked up her coat and bag, clearly that was a rhetorical question.

You just smiled and nodded, “Of course not.”

You watched as she left, leaving you in the movie theater by yourself. You looked at the clock hanging on the wall beside you, sighing loudly at the fact that it was nearly midnight. These night shifts were doing a number on your sleep schedule.

You finished cleaning up the counter before grabbing your jacket and slinging it onto your arms, along with your bag.

After locking up, you began your trek to the bus stop. Only to decide halfway there that it was a nice night and you actually wanted to walk home. The air was a comfortable temperature tonight, not warm but not too cold.

It wouldn't take you that long to walk all the way home, no longer than thirty minutes.

You liked that the city lights didn't pass by you in a blur when you decided to walk home, instead giving you time to admire them more. You chuckled at all the open signs that were turned off, reminding you how late it was.

Though your chuckled died off as you noticed a familiar figure sitting on a bench not too far away from where you were walking. The same person that rescued your neighbor’s dog that one stormy night not too long ago. Since then you’ve seen him all around the city, more frequently on your walks home from work, only catching fleeting glimpses of him because he’d somehow be gone in the blink of an eye.

And this time was no different.

The first few times you saw him, you thought he might be stalking you. Which horrified your because even though you saw him briefly, you could tell he was attractive and you didn't want that whole Stockholm syndrome thing to happen if he by chance kidnapped you. I mean, you literally give an obnoxious tip if the pizza delivery guy is cute.

But as time went on, you noticed that he would never approach you. You would just see him standing off nearby, or sitting at an outside table or bench. He didn't stare at you or anything, didn't make you uncomfortable in any way, you just felt like it couldn't be a coincidence that you were seeing him everywhere.

You got to a point where you began thinking that maybe, just maybe, this was all in your head. That your imagination had conjured him up and he wasn't actually real. Because how could a human being consistently disappear from sight in a matter of seconds? It was virtually impossible. So you reckoned that, for reasons you’re not quite sure of, your brain made him up.

You thought about this as you walked past him, waiting all of five seconds before turning around and only finding an empty bench.

“Dammit.” You muttered under your breath, wanting this weird mystery to end. You just wanted to know if he was real or not. Which, albeit, is an odd thing to just casually want to know. But you were an odd person and it wouldn't surprise you if your mind had made up an attractive guy around your age who appeared on your walks alone from work. Considering his presence began to comfort you, the times you didn't see him made you feel more exposed and vulnerable to the nightly possibilities.

Sometimes you imagined him being a guardian angel that was sent to look over you. If only you could see the irony in that thought.

• • •

Chan knew he was being a bit of a creep. He knew that following you home after work, despite the reason being to make sure you get home safely, was pretty much stalking. But he couldn't help it.

He also knew that letting you see him briefly before teleporting out of your line of sight was probably messing with your head a little. But he didn't want you to have the chance to approach him, because that would only end with you accusing him of being a stalker. But again, he couldn't help it.

Ever since that night he saw you on your terrace, he couldn't get you out of his head. He came to the conclusion that it wasn't just infatuation, he genuinely cared for you and your well being. But, he knew that you couldn't feel the same because you literally hadn't even met him. And sure, he hadn't formally met you either, but he knew you.

He watched you at work, on your walks around the city. He knew your voice from your conversations with other people. He knew you liked reading and tea and thunderstorms, just like him. He knew you constantly took nightshifts at the theater because your colleagues would always call out last minute. He knew you were free to do whatever you wanted on Tuesdays, not even picking up your supervisor’s calls on those days. But most importantly, he knew how much you loved your terrace. And he’s watched it develop now over time, it accumulating a little couch, some bean bag chairs, even fairy lights now lined the awning.

And yes, he was aware that all of this was super weird and if you ever actually formally met him, you would probably scream and call the cops. But, that didn't stop Chan from falling completely head over heels with you.

Even though he knew you would never love him.

• • •

Second to sitting on your terrace, you’d have to say you loved your days off. Which usually consisted of sitting on your terrace but still, you considered them separate entities.

Specifically, Tuesdays were your favorite because your manager was aware you would not be receiving any calls from her to come fill in. Tuesdays were your day to recuperate from Mondays and help you get through the rest of the week.

Today was your beloved Tuesday and you went on a bit of a shopping spree. After working consecutive double shifts the last two weeks, you had some extra money after paying bills and buying your necessities. So naturally, you decided to treat yourself.

You didn't go crazy, only getting a few things. Some cute new outfits and a nice dinner to bring home because you were a bit of a lone wolf and definitely wasn't going to sit at a restaurant by yourself like a loser.

With your bags in hand, you opted for the bus since you didn't want to have to lug everything all the way home on foot.

“Huh, someones treating herself today.” The bus driver chuckled as you got on, noticing all your bags. You’ve come to know your usual bus driver quite well, as he’s come to know you.

“All those late night double shifts gotta count for something right?” You chuckled along with him, sitting down in the front seat to continue light conversation with him.

The drive ended quickly and soon enough you were saying goodbye and getting of the bus, beginning your trek to your apartment building.

It was nearing dusk already, and you didn't want your food getting cold so you walked faster than usual.

But just as your apartment building came into view, a large hand grabbed your wrist and pulled you into one of the dark alleyways you passed everyday without a second thought.

You dropped your bags and were thrown against the alley’s exterior wall. A sound of surprise and fear leaving the back of your throat upon impact.

“Now that’s a lot of bags you got there, huh sweetheart?” The older man chuckled darkly. You felt tears beginning to spill out of your eyes and stream down your cheeks. Everything happening so fast. You were panicking. Your brain told you to offer your bags and beg the man to let you go, but you couldn't formulate any words.

You could only cry out pathetic whimpers in complete desperation.

But just as the man reached into his pocket and pulled out a switchblade, his body began to convulse and he fell to the ground with a thump, completely unconscious. It was almost like he had been tased.

Your mind was racing, your heart was racing, your eyes were shut tightly out of fear and your sleeve clad hands covered them. But you knew you had just been saved, right? Or was this possibly another man with ulterior motives?

Your heart rate accelerated again.

Your vision was blurry due to the tears still apparent in your eyes, but you quickly wiped them with your sleeves and looked up to see your savior standing in front of you. And nothing in this world could have prepared you for who you saw.

It was him.

“Please tell me you’re okay-”

• • •

Chan’s chest was heaving. The moment he saw that man tug you harshly into that alleyway, he just snapped. He ran in after you, drawing energy from around him as he placed both of his hands flat on the man’s back, sending all of the electricity he could muster through himself and into the man’s body.

He didn't even care if the man was dead or not as he watched his limp form slump onto the ground. All he cared about was you and your safety.

You were his priority.

“Please tell me you’re okay-” He rushed out as he was about to pull you out of the alleyway but you cut him off by immediately collapsing into his chest.

You couldn't handle everything that was happening, couldn’t comprehend it. Your brain was overwhelmed and it just kinda gave out, causing you to pass out. Luckily Chan was there to catch you.

He held you close to him, semi-reeling in the feeling of you in his arms. But he was mostly focused on getting you home. So he picked you up like a princess, held you tighter, and teleported you both to the terrace of your apartment, leaving the body of the man behind in the alleyway.

Upon arriving to your terrace, he opened the sliding glass door, figuring it was unlocked since who locks their terrace doors?

Chan took careful steps, walking you inside and into your living room. He laid you down on your couch, making sure you were flat on your back. He then grabbed a pillow from your bedroom and propped your feet up so they were above your heart level. He didn’t know how long you would be unconscious for so he wanted to be sure your blood would continue circulating properly.

After assessing that you were good for now, Chan took a seat on the chair across from where you now lay on your couch, waiting patiently for you to regain consciousness.

It didn't take that long for you to finally come to, maybe ten minutes or so. But boy, when you woke up you were already in a panic. And despite Chan wanting to run over and comfort you, he knew that would only stress you out more and he definitely didn't want you to faint again.

You sat up abruptly, a headache immediately washing over you. Your left hand flew to your forehead, a pained groan leaving your lips.

“How are you feeling?” A concerned voice spoke from beside you.

Your head snapped to the right, all the memories of the dark alleyway flooded your head all at once. He was real. That’s all you could manage to think. You thought you would be afraid. Yet here you were... Just staring at the allusive boy you thought you had imagined all this time.

“You’re... you’re real?” You asked out loud, wondering if maybe you hit your head when you passed out and this is another figment of your imagination. Albeit, a very realistic figment of your imagination.

“Well that’s not the reaction I was expecting.” He chuckled, looking slightly confused himself. How was this even possible?

“You- I thought... how-?” You were struggling to find the right words, and Chan could tell you were becoming panicked again.

“I know you probably think I’m a stalker, but it’s not like that I swear.” He rushed out before you could freak out, holding his hands in front of him in defense.

He was right, you did think he was a stalker. But for whatever reason, you didn’t think he would harm you. If fact, you would go as far as saying you knew he wouldn't harm you.

You closed your eyes and took a deep breath, attempting you calm yourself. In order to figure what exactly was going on here, you need to ask the right questions.

When you opened your eyes finally, he still seemed genuinely concerned, which threw you. Your stare lingered on him for a couple more moments while you actually took in his appearance.

He was quite handsome. He had on black from head to toe, and he pulled it off well. His jawline was like... chiseled by the Gods. And you found yourself staring at the way it tensed in concern. Which brought you back to your thoughts.

“I thought I made you up.” You finally admitted calmly.

This surprised Chan. He was almost certain you were going to accuse him of being a stalker. But you just sat there, completely unafraid of him. You didn’t even think he was real? Had he really disappeared in front of you so many times that you began to think you imagined him?

“Um... No... No I’m real.” Chan corrected, feeling a bit awkward now. This was not what he had prepped himself for when you woke up. He was planning on dealing with you calling the cops and chasing him out of your house. Not for you to calmly sit in front of him and tell him that all this time you thought he was a figment of your imagination.

“So like... what are you then? Cuz I’m pretty sure you’re not human. No human can just disappear in like five seconds.” You ask, wondering if maybe he was a vampire or something.

Chan had never been more confused in his life. How were you being so calm about this? How could you just calmly ask him what kind of supernatural being he was like that wasn't supposed to be a terrifying thing to be in the presence of? Should he just outright tell you? Would you take it as well as you are right now?

“You are so much more perceptive than I thought you’d be.” Chan sighed, out loud. Your calmness bringing out his clarity, despite how unexpected it was.

“So I’m right? You’re a vampire?” You say, and the slight excitement behind your eyes makes Chan laugh.

“No, definitely not a vampire. But good guess.” He wiped the tear from his left eye, his laughter dying down.

“Well then what are you?” You ask with a slight pout, disappointed you were wrong.

Something about your response gave Chan confidence. Confidence that you weren't going to be deterred so easily. And it’s that confidence that led him to voice his next words.

“I’m a demon.” He said seriously, his eyes running over every one of your facial features to gauge your reaction.

You didn't respond immediately, instead taking time to reflect on what he had just said.

The boy sitting in front of you right now was... a demon? But weren't demons supposed to be inherently evil? Why would he save you from that guy back in the alley then? He couldn’t be evil. He carried you back your place. He propped your feet up with a pillow so your blood would circulated properly while you remained unconscious. He was not evil.

“So you're like... a nice demon?” You asked hesitantly, not wanting to sound stupid but this wasn't exactly your area of expertise.

Chan smiled at your words. He has never really put it into words like that but, he supposed you were right. He was a nice demon.

“I mean, I try to be.” He watches you chuckle and his smile widens, the earlier confusion and concern being replaced with the feeling of calm and serenity that normally emanated from you. He suddenly realizes that this is the first conversation he’s ever had with you, the cute little human he fell in love with. And he’s glad he can finally hear your voice speak directly to him, not just hear you talk to other people.

In that moment he’s come over with the sudden need to hear you say his name.

“I’m Chan.” He says softly.

Chan. To be honest you were expecting like ‘Gorgon The Terrible’ but Chan had a nice sound to it. It fit him well, you thought.

“Chan.” You smiled, holding out your hand. “I’m y/n.”

Chan nearly collapses at the sound of his name leaving your lips, your smile evident in your voice. He takes your tiny outstretched hand into his large one and shakes it softly, nearly saying ‘I know’ before deciding that would be super creepy.

From there, he goes into explaining why you see him around everywhere and how he could disappear as quick as he does. You learn that he has the ability to teleport and the ability to manipulate lightning. And you’re honestly flattered when he tells you that he simply found you more fascinating that any other human and that he wanted to make sure you got home safe every night. He even let it slip that he thought you were pretty that first night he saw you, both of you blushing in that moment.

• • •

You find yourself being totally cool with Chan being a demon.

In fact, you two became really close.

You discovered that you had so many things in common. From your love of the city aesthetic and stormy nights to your hatred for crowded places and loud people.

You got along so well, and you enjoyed being around him.

When he finally took you to his place you were stunned. He laughed at how you thought he would have lived in a dark cave or an eerie castle. There were so many misconceptions in your head about demons apparently.

Eventually, you found yourself more than liking Chan. You had never dated anybody before, never really even felt feelings like this toward someone before. But your stomach did little flips every time he’d smile down at you with that look of complete adoration in his eyes. Every time he would smirk at you from across the table on the days you’d get lunch. They way he’d be leaning against his car when he came to pick you up from work.

You don’t know how he managed to look good literally always. Even in the morning when he’d pick you up to go get breakfast, he would somehow look completely put together in just sweatpants and a t-shirt.

And he was just so affectionate. You loved how he’d gently place his hand on the small of your back as you walked up the stairs of your apartment building. You loved how he would play with your hair and gently sing you to sleep when you were feeling restless, telling you that anytime you couldn't sleep, all you had to do was text him and he would immediately teleport to your side. You loved that made you feel safe.

Fuck... you loved him.

• • •

Chan knew you had started feeling more than friendship for him. He may not be telepathic, but he could sense the shift in your demeanor towards him.

Now, he didn't know exactly how strong the feelings were, but he definitely knew they were there. And he’d be lying if he said he didn't want to explore them.

Currently, you sat on his couch watching anime, the plushie he bought for you cradled loosely in your arms. It was a Tuesday, a day that you used to say was your favorite because you had it to yourself. Now, you said it was your favorite because you got to spend the day with him.

You were wearing one of his sweatshirts, his blue one. Probably his only colored one, but he absolutely adored how you looked in it. It was basically a dress on you, but he liked it that way.

He was silently admiring you from where he stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame. Your shorts were hiding under the length of his sweatshirt, leaving your legs exposed. You had these little fuzzy socks on, the same ones you were wearing the night he first saw you, and your day old curls fell loosely just above your shoulders.

You were a little bundle of cuteness to Chan. His little bundle of cuteness.

And there was something in that moment that filled him with a sudden confidence.

He pushed himself off of the door frame and took swift long strides to your position on his couch. You looked away from the tv when you saw him come in, not expecting him to rest both his hands on the back of the couch on either side of your head, leaning down so his face was mere inches from yours.

You leaned back further, but Chan followed your movements. Your cheeks were heating up the longer he stared at you. You knew he could see your cheeks getting pinker. Hell, from this close, he could probably feel the heat radiating off your face.

“W-what are you doing?” You silently chided yourself for stuttering, not wanting to make it obvious how nervous he made you.

“You know you’re mine, right?” He suddenly said, a smirk coming to grace his lips. You made the mistake of glancing down at the way the one side tugged upwards, before bringing your gaze back up to his. His smirk deepened, his own eyes flickering from your eyes to your lips.

You watched him start leaning in, ever so slowly. Your breath hitched in your throat as he got closer and closer. Your eyes followed his movements until his lips were almost touching yours, then they fell shut in anticipation.

But his lips didn't meet yours. Instead, they met your ear.

“You didn’t answer me, babygirl.”

You let out a shaky breath, trying to control how fast your heart was beating right now.

“W-what?” You asked quietly, not remembering what question he asked.

“I said you know you’re mine, right?” Chan pulled back slightly to catch your gaze, noticing the blush forming on your cheeks. He licked his lips, wanting nothing more than to devour you right then and there.

But he needed to hear you say it first.

“You’re mine, y/n. No one else’s.” He continued, his voice becoming more serious now. “You know that, right?”

You couldn't help but nod, you knew he was right. You were his. You were absolutely his and his only. You wouldn't give yourself to anyone else, wouldn't love anyone the way you loved him. There was only him for you, only Chan.

“I need to hear you say it, babygirl.” Chan closed his eyes and he let out a sigh, holding himself back until the words he was looking for left those pretty lips of yours.

Everything about him was tempting, and you really wanted this go were it was heading despite your nerves. Because... You really did love this demon.

“I’m yours, Chan.”

Immediately his lips were on yours.

Your lips moved hesitantly but in sync with his, your nerves being apparent. But you couldn't possibly want this anymore than you already did.

Chan could sense your nerves, knowing fully well that this was going to be your first time with someone. But he was going to make you feel the best you've ever felt.

Chan gently pushed you down on the couch, your back laying against the soft cushions while he hovered over you. One of his hands found purchase at your waist while the other softly cradled your face, his lips moving at a slow but sensual pace. Your heart swelled in your chest at how gentle and loving he was being with you, as you slid your arms around his neck.

His tongue carefully slipped past your lips, a quiet gasp escaping them. Chan smirked into to the kiss, his tongue caressing yours.

He moved in between your legs, his hands slowly sliding down your body and finding the backs of your knees. He guided your legs to wrap around his waist, loving the way you obeyed and locked your ankles around him.

His hands then move to your hips as he slowly grinds his against yours. His firm grip prevents you from being able to move yours with his. You get the idea, realizing that he doesn't want you doing any work tonight. He wants to be in complete control.

His lips part from yours, your chest heaving. He doesn't stop though, he continues dragging his soft lips gently across your jawline, down the expanse of your neck, leaving open mouthed kisses on the skin there. Chan pulled the collar of his sweatshirt on you down so he could drag his teeth across your collar bone biting down slightly, eliciting a soft whimper from you.

“That was beautiful, love. Do it again.” Chan bit down again, another whimper leaving your lips. He continued this, being fueled by the sounds that spilled out of your mouth, until your neck was littered in hickeys. Chan ran his tongue along the marks he made, pulling back to admire them.

“All mine.” You heard him say under his breath, his hands coming to grip the bottom of your sweatshirt. His eyes found yours, looking for any sort of opposition in them. After finding none, he pulled the material up and over your head, revealing the white lace bra you wore underneath. He dropped down to continue leaving kisses all over your chest, his hips still maintaining their slow grinding motion against your core.

You could feel yourself getting wetter and wetter. And you’d be lying if you said you didn’t want Chan to just take you to his bedroom already. You needed him, more than you’ve ever needed him before.

“Chan~” You begged, your voice sounding foreign to you. You’ve never sounded this needy before.

Chan thrived on how needy you sounded. His name leaving your lips like that is all he wanted to hear tonight.

“Are you sure, babygirl?” He asked for confirmation, leaning down to press a chaste kiss to your lips. You nodded, but Chan gave you a look, prompting you to voice your answer with a soft “please.”

That’s all he needed to hear. Without another word, Chan picked you up from the couch. He carried you to his bedroom, his eyes never breaking contact with yours as he laid you down on his bed.

He lifted his shift up and over his head, tossing it somewhere on the floor before climbing onto the bed on top of you.

“You have no idea how long I’ve been waiting for this.” He admitted in a breath, watching as your hands came up to touch his chest but stopped just before you could make contact.

“Can I touch you?” You asked him, his heart melting at how little you looked sprawled out underneath him like this. So small, so innocent.

“Of course you can, babygirl.” Chan smiled, loving the sound of your voice. Loving even more the feeling of your hands when they finally met his skin, running down his chest and incredibly toned torso.

Chan’s eyes closed and his head hung down slightly. He just wanted to rip your shorts off and fuck you into the mattress but he couldn't, he needed to take things slow, guide his babygirl through her first time.

Chan’s eyes opened and he let out a breath, sliding his hands underneath you to unclip your bra. He threw it to the side, leaning down to press a kiss to each of your breasts before continuing on down your stomach.

His lips stopped at the waistband of your shorts, pausing to pull them down your legs, dropping them onto the pile of clothes forming on the floor. He smiles at your white lace panties, the little bow on them causing a deep chuckle to leave his chest.

“What?” You asked, confused as to why he’s laughing.

“Nothing, you’re just cute.” Chan runs his hands up your thighs, taking your panties with his index finger and pulling them down and off of you, leaving you completely bare to him.

Before you have a chance to feel any feelings of self consciousness, Chan slips a finger into your already dripping core.

“Look at you, babygirl. We’ve barely even started and you’re already so wet for me.” Your head falls back, a loud moan escaping your lips. Immediately you bit down on your bottom lip in attempt to muffle your sounds.

“Ah ah, love. None of that.” Chan chided with a smirk, his finger now moving at a steady pace inside you. He wanted to hear every sound you could possibly make tonight. You let go of your lip, moaning out loud again.

“Thatta girl.” He cooed, adding another finger, stretching your walls out for him. He kept it rather slow but steady, scissoring his fingers at times. He wanted you fully prepped, not wanting it to be too painful. Even though he knew that was going to be inevitable.

There was a coil in your stomach and you could feel it tightening the faster his fingers moved. You had only ever touched yourself before but it felt nothing like this. But before the coil could tighten any further, Chan pulled his fingers out of you.

The prettiest whine left your mouth at the loss of contact, Chan’s dick was impossibly hard at the sight of you already so fucked out and needy because of him.

“Are you ready, love?” Chan was beyond ready, but he was giving you a chance to back out now.

“Yes, Chan please~”

In a second, Chan’s sweatpants and boxers were off.

He hovered over you, his hard on in one hand and his other resting by your head, positioning himself at your entrance. After one last look to make sure you were 100% okay, he pushed himself inside you, going slow to let you adjust. He groans and you moan, your eyes closed and your head falling backwards. The pain was definitely there, but for some reason it only added to the pleasure. The feeling was overwhelming and you couldn't stop the few tears the fell from your closed eyes.

Chan leaned down and kissed away the few tears that fell, whispering words of comfort and praise into your skin.

After you finally adjusted, you asked him to move. Quickly, he obliged, pulling out of you and pushing back in just as slow. This time it felt different, the pain subsided, the pleasure outshining the pain. He continued this, pulling out and pushing back into your sopping wet heat.

The feeling of you around him was something Chan couldn't compare to anything else. Everything about you engulfed him, everything about you was perfect. And now you were his. Finally, officially his.

“Oh my god, Chan.” You moaned out breathily. His cock inside you hitting a spot you didn't know existed. Your head fell to the side, your mind going fuzzy. You’ve never felt this much pleasure before. And although it was overwhelming, it also felt really fucking good.

Chan’s pace picked up, knowing that the painful part was over. Now was his time to make you feel the greatest you've ever felt. One hand gripped your hip while the other rested on his elbow next to your head.

His groans were like music to your ears, pushing you further towards the edge. The sounds that came from where you were connected were lewd enough to bring a blush to your face, catching Chan’s attention.

“Is my babygirl blushing?” Chan’s wide smile contrasted with his lewd actions below.

“Shut up~” You whined, but it quickly turned into a moan as Chan hit that spot again. Hitting it consistently now, your hands grabbed his shoulders, needing something to keep you grounded, keep you sane.

Chan buried his face into your neck, muffling his own sounds as he pounded into you. You were on the brink of climax, you could feel it. And it was an incredible feeling.

Your whole body became hyperaware, aware of his death grip on your hip, aware of his breathing on your neck, aware of his cock bottoming out inside you with every thrust.

Suddenly you felt Chan’s grip on your hip lift and instead his hand slid down to your clit, rubbing fast circles into the sensitive bud.

Your body began shaking and you had to warn him, but the words were caught amidst the pleasure.

“Chan I-I” “I know, babygirl. Cum for me.”

Immediately you came, your orgasm washing over you like a tsunami. You cried out Chan’s name in a repeated mantra like you were praying to him. It was easily the greatest feeling you have ever felt ever. Chan followed after you, releasing his load inside you with a groan of your name.

Chan rode out both of your highs, pressing his thumb down onto your clit to prolong yours a little more.

Chan watched you come undone underneath him, in complete awe. Never in his life had he seen a sight as beautiful as you, so fucked out, so spent. Your hair lay messily against his mattress, some strands sticking to your forehead. Your neck and chest were littered in his pink and purple marks, your bottom lip swollen from biting it so much.

You were a masterpiece.

Chan collapsed beside you, his chest heaving. You curled up into his side, Chan pulling you even closer, kissing your forehead.

“I love you, Chan.” You sighed, feeling complete next to him.

“I love you more, babygirl.” He smiled to himself. Everything Chan’s ever wanted was curled up in his arms right now.

“We should get you cleaned up, love.” He pointed out, moving to stand. But you pulled him back down, resting your head on his chest.

“After a nap?” You nuzzled your head further into Chan, wanting to be as close to him as possible.

“Alright, after a nap.” Chan chuckled, running his fingers through your hair and humming softly.

And with that, you fell asleep to the sound of his voice.

• • •

A/N: OH LOOK IT’S HERE PLZ ENJOY LMAO SORRY IT TOOK SO LONG.

#bang chan #chan #stray kids #stray kids fanfic #stray kids angst #stray kids smut #stray kids chan #stray kids imagines #stray kids reactions #stray kids oneshots #kpop #stray kids fluff #demon au #angel au #smut #angst #fluff #Demon!AU #angel!au

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the-wlw-cafe · 5 years

Text

Gifts Like These (Lena Luthor x Reader)

Request: Reader slowly coming to the realization that her boss, Lena Luthor, is and has been totally acting like the reader’s sugar daddy ever since she applied for a Job at L-Corp

Fandom: Supergirl

Warnings: one piddly little curse word

Word Count: 2180

It started out perfectly professional, innocent, even.

It started out with Lena Luthor, your boss of not more than four months asking you to accompany her to a fancy National City gala, for strictly work-related purposes, of course.

“I-, gosh, I...Miss Luthor, are you sure you want me of all people to accompany you?”

High society isn’t exactly your metier, to put it lightly. You weren’t raised among them, and from what little contact you’ve had with them as Miss Luthor’s assistant, you’re glad for it. They barely seem to notice you, and when they do, they expect you to bend to their will, to simply make Miss Luthor be available when you’ve already told them that your boss is not seeing any unannounced visitors, no matter how important they believe themselves to be. You can’t stand most of them, L-Corp’s rivals and allies alike.

“We’ve got that in common already, then”, she says, flashing you a bright grin, after you’ve told her about your feelings towards them. You don’t think you would have dared to ever be so open with any other boss, but she’s told you from day one to never be afraid to speak your mind, and she’s told you a bunch of times after, too, until the message sank in.

“But in all seriousness, (Y/N), this gala is going to be chock full of ruthless businesspeople trying to scope out the competition, intimidate newcomers...and L-Corp is going to seem like a perfect target to them, me being the youngest Luthor, inexperienced and a woman to top it all off.”

“They’re underestimating you.” There’s no doubt about it in your mind.

“Of course they are”, Miss Luthor agrees, “but I’ll still be in hostile territory. I need someone at my side, someone I can trust, to be my extra set of eyes and ears.”

There’s something bitter in her voice when she says the word trust, and honestly, you can’t blame her. She’s already been betrayed so often, by her own assistants, by friends, by family...

The fact that she’s ready to rely on you that much is already baffling to you.

“You can count on me, Miss Luthor”, you find yourself saying before you even have the chance to think it through. Miss Luthor almost seems almost as surprised as you.

“Oh! Oh, good. I’ll have my driver pick you up in advance.” She thanks you, and turns to leave, but at that exact moment your brain catches up to you and to what you just agreed.

“Miss Luthor, wait! I...I don’t have anything to wear for an occasion like this...”

You can feel blood rush to your cheeks in embarrassment.

“Oh, don’t worry about that, (Y/N). We’ll figure something out.”

When Lena said she’d figure something out, you’d thought something along the line of you giving her your measurements and she sending you something to wear the day before the gala would happen. Never in your lifetime would you have expected to be leaning against the full body mirror in the changing room of a boutique, one of the really fancy ones with an impeccably dressed security guard in front of the door. A security guard who seemed to have had some doubts about someone like you sullying this establishment with your working class shoes, but didn’t dare voice them after Miss Luthor shot him a withering glare.

You tried on dress after dress and suit after suit, feeling uncomfortable at first, and embarrassed when Miss Luthor had to pull at your clothes to make them sit right on your frame. Embarrassed and very concerned at the fact that in this exact moment your brain chose to make you aware of the fact that wow, she smells really good and gosh, she’s so pretty.

But you get the hang of it, eventually, both of the clothes and your rapid, irregular heartbeat, and you start actually enjoying yourself, which in turn seems to brighten Miss Luthor’s smile even more as she eagerly appraises every outfit you try on, pointing out when an outfit “really brings out the colour of your eyes” or “fits you perfectly”.

At the end of the day, it all comes down to two outfits you just can’t seem to decide between, so you turn to Miss Luthor for her professional opinion.

“Well, if it’s so difficult to decide, why not get them both?”

You actually choke on air as she says this.

“Miss Luthor”, you cough, “I think I might have to live off of packaged noodles and tap water for a month to afford even one, let alone two!”

Miss Luthor shoots you a puzzled look, and the resulting pause gives you just enough time to catch your breath, before her next words make you inevitably lose it again:

“Oh, (Y/N), I’m not going to make you pay for these!”

You gape at her. The possibility that you might have fainted the second she asked you to accompany her to the gala and that your boutique-related escapades were caused by the resulting comatose dreams seems increasingly likely.

“Miss Luthor...I couldn’t possibly-“

“It’s Lena, darling. I can’t have my date to the gala address me ass Miss Luthor.”

You’re not quite sure how you manage to keep upright after this sentence turns your knees to jelly.

It starts with the gala, but it doesn’t end there.

(The gala itself surprisingly enjoyable, probably owed in no small part to the company present – Miss Lu - Lena never leaves your side during the whole evening, she seems to intuit whenever you need a break from all the rich, stuffy strangers eyeing you with anything from disinterest to unabashed judgement. You do get compliments for your outfit – quite a lot of them backhanded, probably – but they all pale in comparison to Lena telling you in a breathy voice that you look absolutely stunning.)

But even after the gala, Lena doesn’t stop giving you gifts. Horribly expensive gifts, even. For your the holidays it’s a reservation for you and a plus one of your choosing at one of National City’s most esteemed restaurants. You end up going with your best friend, and as you arrive it turns out that not only did Lena get you the reservation, she seems to have bought out the entire restaurant so you and your friend can eat undisturbed.

For your birthday, it’s a stunning pair of (Y/E/C) earrings. You’re so flustered you drop them twice while stammering your thanks, so Lena has to affix them to your ears with her slender, nimble fingers herself.

On her next business trip to Zürich, Switzerland, she insists on taking you with her. Well, she doesn’t so much insist as gently ask you and you jump at the opportunity. And that is how end up next to your boss and secret crush in the dreamy-soft cushions of her high-tech private jet, sharing some iced champagne. You know Lena doesn’t care for flying much, and she does look even paler than usual as the jet lurches forward, gains speed rapidly on the asphalt track before finally taking off, so you try and distract her by talking about anything and everything, yourself, your hobbies, a dog you saw yesterday...

You think Lena knows what you’re doing, and if the grateful smile she shoots you is any indication, she appreciates you trying.

After a few glasses of champagne she is starting to become more talkative, and a cute, fait blush has spread across her cheekbones. She gestures animatedly as she tells you about all the things she has planned, showing you around the city, taking you out to the fanciest restaurants. As much as it sounds like heaven to you, it also makes you think. Lena never liked to spend much time away from L-Corp, trying to cut her business trips abroad as short as possible. In fact, you remember multiple occasions on which she asked you to book her flight back on the same day her business meeting was set to conclude, despite your protests that such a strict timetable was far too stressful and she deserved a proper night’s sleep. But this time, she had planned a stay of a week – a whole week! – in Zürich, and the only tangible difference between this trip and all the others is, well, you. Which means that she was doing all of that for your sake, going way out of her comfort zone for your sake...and you can’t for the life of you figure out why. Well, you have one theory...and it’s sad, it’s terrible, and you have to stop it in its tracks.

What if Lena thought she had to buy your loyalty with gifts?

“(Y/N)?”

Her soft voice and a gentle touch of her hand over yours shake you out of your thoughts.

“I’m sorry, Lena, I was just...” You were just what? Second-guessing every interaction you two have had up until now? Lena is smiling at you, patiently waiting for you to finish your line of thought.

“I was just wondering...”, you take a deep breath, “why are you doing this?”

You heart clenches as you see Lena’s smile drip from her face like icy water.

“I-I’m sorry?”

This might be the first time you’ve ever heard her stutter.

“I just...I just don’t know why you insist on buying all of this stuff for me.”

Lena’s hand slowly retreats from yours as she sinks back into her seat. You instantly miss its warmth.

“I – shit, I’m so sorry if I made you uncomfortable, (Y/N). I always thought I’d stop before it got too much, before I got too overbearing, I never meant to cross that line, I promise.”

“Lena, hey, it’s okay. You didn’t make me uncomfortable. I just need you to know that you don’t need to do this. You don’t need to buy my loyalty, I’m already on your side. Always.”

Lena leans towards you again, her brow furrowed, her eyes wet.

“Is that what you think I was doing?”

You shrug, helplessly. “I don’t know why you would waste so much money on me otherwise.”

She closes her eyes, sighing deeply, and you can almost see her shrink into herself in front of your very eyes.

“You’re really going to make me spell it out for you, are you?”

She carries on before you can even answer, and her next sentence knocks all of the air straight out of your lungs.

“I have feelings for you, (Y/N), I’ve had them for a very long time. And believe me, I know how inappropriate it is, and I’d never, ever try to manipulate you into anything you don’t want, but...you deserve so, so much, (Y/N). You’re one of the best, kindest, most loyal people I know, and even if I can’t be with you, I just wanted to give you a fraction of what you deserve.”

All of that pours out of her at such an incredible speed you have to take a few moments to catch up.

“You...have feelings for me? Romantic feelings?”, you ask, unsure if you can believe your ears.

“I do. And I understand if you can’t continue working for me anymore now that you know, and I’ll make sure you find employment somewhere –“

“Lena. Hey. Don’t get ahead of yourself”, you say, as softly as you can, and this time it’s you placing a hand on top of Lena’s. You squeeze her hand gently, to reassure both her and yourself, as you’re still not quite sure this is really happening. Nobody can be this lucky.

“My point from before still stands”, you continue. “You don’t need to buy me gifts, you already have me, if you want me.”

Lena’s openly crying now, and she’s looking at you like she can’t quite believe you’re real.

“(Y/N), are you sure? I’m your boss, and I’m a Luthor, and –“

“None of that scares me”, you whisper, cupping Lena’s cheek in your free hand to brush away a wayward tear with your thumb. “Not when I’m with you.”

You’re not sure who leans in first, you or Lena, or if it’s some strange magnetism between you two, but your lips brush hers and it’s soft and perfect and it’s just...heaven. Both of you don’t think of anything but each other on the long, long flight to Zürich.

Lena still insists on taking you out to that horribly expensive restaurant, even though you try to insist that she really doesn’t have to.

“I’m not trying to bribe you into staying, I’d never manipulate you like that. It’s just...” she breaks off, blushing furiously and avoiding your gaze, “I like it. I enjoy spoiling you. I’d do it every day, if you’d let me.”

And it makes you blush, too, it makes you imagine having Lena treat you to fancy food and spa days and exclusive clubs and showing you off on her arm, and yeah, that sounds like heaven, too.

(“So does that mean you’re my sugar mama?”, you ask her cheekily, making her groan and bury her face in her hands.)

#aka reader has a capitalism kink #lena luthor #lena luthor x reader #reader insert #supergirl #supergirl Reader insert #wlw imagine #imagine #wlw Reader insert

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whattodowithkpop · 4 years

Text

Saving Grace (Chapter 4) [S. Coups]

Title: Saving Grace

Pairing: Seungcheol (S. Coups) x Reader

Genre: Angst, Spice, Fluff

Word Count: 12.3K Words [All Chapters]

Writer: Kpopmadness

Summary: Reader is an Empress with tragic backstory and Seungcheol plans an alliance with her.

****

Chapter 4;

He looked between the space of her fingers to meet eyes with the real Empress only to discover her absence. Quickly, he stood. His chair nearly falling to the floor from the sudden jerk.

He walked to one of the nearby guards she had been standing beside, not caring if his sudden action raised questions.

"Where did the guard next to you go?" He asked the guard, his eyes scanning the room at the same time.

The guard met his eyes puzzled but answered, "I do not know, my lord. The fellow took off a few minutes ago. Seemed to be in a hurry."

Seungcheol didn't wait to hear more. He hurried to the front doors and rushed down the stairs. Guests following his frantic run. But Seungcheol didn't count on it rising suspicion. Since they would all just assume he was upset over his bride being killed.

“Get my horse." He ordered the servant boy sharply, who couldn't seem to get to the stalls fast enough.

His horse was a tall black stallion, his mane flowing down his neck in slickly locks that shined in the full moon light. A few snorts blew from his nose, making white clouds flout into the cold air.

Quickly mounting, he dug his heels into his ribs sharply, making him go into a run. Once going he knew of only one place in his mind that the Empress could have gone. Back to her palace. To be locked away once again. Like a whisper in the night, she would slip away and hide until forgotten.

His mind spun and raced as they sped through the road toward the Empresses palace. What would he say to her? Would she believe him? He let out a growl, his teeth grinding together as he pulled on his horses reigns and forced him to cut through the forest.

Thunder echoed in the distance, threatening rain from the heavens on this night. The wind began to blow, making the air feel considerably colder as Seungcheol sped along. His horses hooves cutting into the earth as he ran through the thick woods.

Finally, the Empresses palace began to appear through the dense trees. Seungcheol dug his heels into his horses ribs once more, asking him to run faster.

Once at the wide doors of her palace, Seungcheol pushed the doors open without giving the guards a second thought.

"Hey! You can't just run in here!" One of the guards barked, stepping closer to Seungcheol with spear raised and pointed to his chest.

Seungcheol grabbed the end of the spear and jerked it out of the mans out, catching him off guard. At the same time, Seungcheol grabbed a fist full of the guards tunic and pulled him closer to him, which made the other guards take up their spears and bows and point them at Seungcheol.

Seungcheol only pulled the guard close enough to whisper in his ear: "If you do not let me through, your Empress may very well be a dead one. Now let me through." He growled, his grip tightening on the guard.

The guards face turned white at the sharp words. But he pulled away and nodded to Seungcheol and gestured for the other guards to stand down.

"Thank you." Seungcheol muttered under his breath as he ran up the stairs.

He wasn't sure where she would be, so he began opening every door in hopes she was there. He didn't go far, though, before he saw her two dogs, Zeus, and Sasha, sitting at one door whinging fiercely.

Walking up to the door, Seungcheol tried to open the door but it was locked. "Empress, please. Talk to me." He pleaded. The sound of heavy rain almost drowning out his voice.

There was a sharp yell before a dagger split its way through the doors wood, making Zeus and Sasha bark frantically.

"So you're still mad." Seungcheol said through a chuckle before letting his back slide down the wall next to her door. Zeus and Sasha growled at him momentarily before turning their attention back to the Empresses door. Obviously more worried about her than him. From their behavior, Seungcheol guessed this was their first time being locked out of her room. Especially now, when she was upset.

"My Empress," Seungcheol says softly, waiting for an answer. Only to hear the sound of her broken sobs from the other side of the door.

"Empress, i know you think very little of me right now. And you may not even believe a word i say. But i am not responsible for Tilly's death."

The Empress was silent on the other side of the door. Her two dogs, who had been standing up nervously, now sat down but remained on high alert.

Seungcheol let out a sigh, his mind whirling with thoughts and how he could make amends for everything she had seen tonight. Her first time out and she had seen one of her decoys die within hours of arriving. Which didn't help her trust him like he wanted her to.

After some time Seungcheol let out a long sigh and rested his head on the wall behind him. "She was a sweet girl," He said quietly, but loud enough for her to hear him on the other side of the door. "I liked her. She cared a lot about you. I think in many ways, she looked up to you, Empress."

"This is what happens when people look up to me or get too close to me. They die." The Empress said bitterly. Her voice sounded horse from crying.

"No, no my Empress..." Seungcheol says soothingly, "This was not your fault. You couldn't have known she was going to die."

"I could have guessed it would be dangerous!" The Empressed roared, "I could have not gone and she would not have had to die. I could have been the one to go alone and she could have stayed here safe. So there! Are you happy now? Everything you said about me a few days ago is true. I am a coward."

Seungcheol didn't say anything for awhile. He tried to think of something soothing to say, something worth saying to comfort her. Instead all he could think of was. "I was wrong...about you being a coward, Empress."

Silence stretched on between the two royals. Neither knowing fully what to say. The night had left them both drained. After sitting by the Empresses bedroom door for an hour, Seungcheol sighed and got up. The rain had long since stopped but the sky still threatened to rain more before the night was over. Realizing she wasn't coming out tonight and not in the mood to talk things out Seungcheol started for the stables to ride back home. But before leaving he turned around slightly, staring at the closed door.

"Goodnight, Empress." He whispered before going down the stairs and leaving.

.............

Three days passed; Each day for about two hours, sometimes more, Seungcheol would ride to the Empresses palace and check on her well being. His father never questioned his leaving. He was always too busy in politics or dinning with other royals to care what his son did. But he was also used to his son being gone for long periods of time on his horse. He had been like that since he was a child. So riding out on his stallion early in the morning before the sun rise and not returning until dusk. As long as Seungcheol did as he was told, when he was told, his father didn't care about his existence.

On day six, Seungcheol walked into the palace like he always did now. By now the guards knew who he was and didn't try to resist him coming, Before he could reach the stairs he saw Mrs. Pattmore, one of the Empresses servants came down the stairs with a tray of food in hand.

She was a kind woman. Her found face and green eyes had a welcoming appeal to them. Her cheeks were always red from laughing or smiling and her gray hair and uniform gray dress only brought out the green in her eyes more.

"Hello, Prince!" Mrs. Pattmore welcomes warmly, bowing politely.

Seungcheol smiles widely at the aged women before saying, "Mrs. Pattmore I've told you to call me by my name. I prefer it."

Mrs. Pattmore lets out a giggle before saying, "Aye. But i'm used to being proper. I'm not used to royalty letting me slack on that."

Seungcheol only smiled wider at her, "Well i suggest you get used to it. Because i insist you call me by my first name."

Mrs. Pattmore lets out another giggle and starts down the rest of the stairs before Seungcheol stops her and asks, "Were you taking the Empress food, Mrs. Pattmore?"

"Aye lad, i was. But she's only eating enough to keep herself alive the poor thing. She didn't touch her food this time."

Seungcheol looked up the stairs toward her bedroom before running up the rest of the way and heading to her room. She had let her dogs inside but that was the only thing she would let inside.

"Empress," Seungcheol called as he knocked on her bedroom door. Only the sound of Zeus and Sasha growling slightly answered him,

Seungcheol sighed and took his seat by the door again, leaning his head against the wall. "I'm sitting at my usual spot if you need me." Seungcheol said. Knowing he would not get an answer but still said it every time he came nonetheless.

Knowing he would be there awhile, Seungcheol began to softly sing to himself to pass the time. At the same time, he hoped the soft tune would comfort the mourning girl just behind the big heavy door.

............

Day eight came around, and as usual Seungcheol walked into the palace to take his usual spot by the Empresses door. When he walked in, there were no guards by the door or even Mrs. Pattmore to say hello to him. He stood there a moment before shrugging off the odd feeling he got and started his way up the stairs once again. At this point he knew this palace as if it were his home. He even found the Empresses piano the other night and began to play it softly for about an hour.

He was half way up the stairs before a voice from behind him said, "Where are you going, Prince?"

Seungcheol spun around to see the Empress standing by the front door, Zeus and Sasha stood beside her. Seungcheol felt the air leave his lungs as he took in her appearance.

Her long, dark hair was neatly braided down over her left shoulder with flecks of gold circling the delicate braid. She wore a simple golden gown that sparkled slightly when the sun hit it. The sleeves fell off her shoulders revealing the old scar that traced up her neck. The bottom of the dress was embedded with a fine lace material that looked like golden and red flames snaking up the dress to her waist that where the dress fit more snugly showing her fit form.

The first time Seungcheol had seen the empress she had been disguised as a guard. The second time she was still disguised as a guard. But now seeing her in a dress, he realized how he had forgotten she was royalty. And by the way she was looking, you never would have known she had locked herself away for eight day crying over the loss of a friend.

Noticing his stare, the Empress took a few steps toward him. Her head tilting up to meet his eyes, "Do you still want my help to over throw your father?"

This took Seungcheol by surprise. He stuttered for words while her gray eyes stared back at him patiently.

"Yes.” He finally managed to choke out. Still taken aback by her appearance and words.

The Empress nodded her head before saying, "Then lets not waste time. We need a plan."

Previous Chapter ~ Next Chapter

MASTERLIST

#kpop #x reader #kpop fanfiction #fanfiction #fluff #seventeen #kpop x reader #slight spice #angst #seventeen s.coups #seventeen seungcheol #kpopmadness writings #seventeen fanficiton #fanfiction stories

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frenchfrysplash · 4 years

Text

fic: between heaven, the sky, the earth

The Haunting of Bly Manor

Dani/Jamie

Chapter 3/10

Read on AO3 Here! Or you can continue into the Read More.

Summary: Jamie goes between one moment, and the next. Falling around her like rain, like snow.

She’s here for a reason. Here to help.

She just needs to remember.

Chapter Three: dearly departed

But even when one is dead and gone It still takes two to make a house a home Well I'm as lonesome as the catacombs I hear you call my name but no one's there

- The Shakey Graves, "Dearly Departed"

February 2001

"I think this is what you're looking for, Mrs. Clayton."

A plain clamshell box was placed gingerly in front of Jamie, the cardboard corners worn from being pushed and pulled to and fro a shelf for years. The archivist, a young blond woman with round-framed glasses, opened it carefully, and thumbed through the files. She glanced at Jamie, smiling uncertainly.

"It's not a lot," she said. "400 year old papers are fragile, and well, it's a miracle some of these have survived this long. We don't have the same kind of money for conservation as the big places. But this is what we have of the Lloyd papers."

"Right," Jamie stared at the box, apprehension brewing in her belly. She flexed her fingers against the foldable plastic table the archivist had set up for her, wedged in a corner of the tiny museum office. "So, have I got to wear gloves or something?"

"Oh, yes!" the archivist produced a pair of white cotton gloves, and laid them on the table next to box. "Now, these papers have survived pretty well, but they are fragile."

"Should I be worried about them crumbling in my hands?" Jamie asked.

"Nothing like that," the archivist shrugged. "They could tear though. Just be careful."

"Will do." Jamie pulled the gloves on.

"If you need anything, I'll be just over here," the archivist said, indicating the desk in the opposite corner.

"Thank you."

The archivist nodded, and made her way over to sit at her desk, sparing one last curious glance at her visitor. Jamie got the impression that this little museum and archives, hidden as it was in a tiny village in Devon, didn't really get all that many researchers. Especially ones specifically asking to see the papers of one Arthur Lloyd, whose trail she had been following like a dog with a bone for three months now.

She had started with one name - Viola. A Viola who had lived - and died - at Bly Manor, at some point in its long, dark past. It had seemed an impossibly thin lead, so she had called up Henry Wingrave, hoping he knew something of the history of his country home. He hadn't, not really, and Jamie was left to wonder if this was a fool's errand.

Until Flora had called.

"Uncle Henry said you were looking into the history of Bly Manor," she had said. "Specifically someone called Viola?"

"Yeah," Jamie had replied. "But he didn't know anything."

"No, he's not one for history," Flora had chuckled. "But that name sounded familiar. So I went looking through some of my old things, and guess what!"

"Flora."

"I have an old grave rubbing with that name on it! First name, last name, birth and death dates."

"Flora," Jamie had nearly dropped the phone in her excitement. "That's amazing!"

"I can send you a picture by e-mail?"

Jamie had blanched. "Can't you just tell me what it says?"

"Luddite."

And that conversation had led her to Viola Lloyd, born 1645, died 1680, who had lived at Bly Manor for the entirety of her short life, and had died and been buried there. From there, she was able to visit the local parish records office, and find a marriage record between one Arthur Lloyd and Viola Willoughby, in 1674. There hadn't been much else on Viola, but there was another marriage record for Arthur Lloyd, seven years later, to a Perdita Willoughby.

Scandalous.

Perdita had died too, according to the death record Jamie had found in the same Parish office. Plus, there had been a christening for a Lloyd baby in 1675, though the child's first name had been rendered illegible by the intervening years.

That had been it for the Parish records, but Jamie had something else now. Arthur Lloyd. A merchant, according to his marriage records. Born somewhere around 1640, but not buried at Bly Manor, or in the Parish cemetery. He'd probably left after the death of his second wife, then. But to where?

And that was the question that had led Jamie here, to this tiny museum. It hadn't been easy, and Jamie wasn't a natural researcher. But she was smart, and determined, and when the man at the National Archives had informed her he couldn't find any primary sources on Arthur Lloyd in the collection, but had found an obscure reference to a merchant named Lloyd in a book written in 1973 about the history of a little farming community in South Devon, well. Jamie had followed the lead, and been rewarded for her efforts.

Gingerly, she pulled out the first file, and flipped it open. The papers inside were yellowed, the handwriting looping and nearly impossible to read. Jamie sighed, glanced at the archivist again, and pulled her reading glasses out of her jacket pocket.

"I love when you wear those," Dani said from the other side of the table, resting her cheek on one hand, gazing at Jamie adoringly.

"I've had 'em for two years," Jamie replied, eyes scanning the pages in the front of her. "Thought you'd be used to it by now."

"You look so cute with them on."

"They make me feel old."

This file seemed to be mostly pages from Lloyd's ledgers, listing his business dealings, his trading in tobacco and spices and fine linens. Jamie's brow knotted together in concentration as she made her way through the rest of the pages.

"All good over here?"

Jamie looked up at the archivist, who stood in the spot Dani had been sitting, moments before.

"All good," she said. "I'll, uh, probably be a while, yeah?"

"Oh, of course!" The archivist smiled. "We're open until five. You're welcome to stay until then if you need to."

"Thanks," Jamie said, and took the next files from the box, wordlessly dismissing the archivist.

"You could be nicer," Dani chided from behind her.

"I'm busy," Jamie replied.

"She's just trying to be helpful."

Jamie sighed, and leaned forward, adjusting her glasses.

This file was more of the same, for the most part. And the next one was a deed to a cottage just outside the little village, as well as a few household expenses. Jamie tried not to feel frustrated.

"I don't even know what I'm looking for," she said, placing the file back in the box, and pulling the next one out.

"You'll know when you find it," Dani replied, voice more distant than it had been before.

Jamie paused, and looked back at Dani, who stood against the wall, smiling encouragingly. There was something off about her, and it took Jamie a moment to understand.

"You're fading," she said.

Dani blinked, and tilted her head, a frown appearing on her face. Confusion flashed through her eyes, and she glanced around, then focused back on Jamie

"Jamie," she said. "Where-?"

And she was gone.

Jamie's shoulders slumped, and she turned back to her table. The file in front of her was thicker than the others, and Jamie was extra careful opening it. Her eyes widened slightly as she took in the first page.

"Here we go," she whispered to herself.

Letters. Dozens of letters, spanning just as many years, from one Jonathan Lloyd, Vicar in Essex, to his brother Arthur, Merchant in Devon. As Jamie read through them, taking notes on a little notepad she'd brought, a puzzle began to take shape. So many pieces were missing, but there was a solid outline, as Jonathan asked after Arthur's ill wife, Viola; solemnly comforted him at her death; congratulated him on his second marriage; counselled him on his money problems; offered advice and support as Arthur decided to move away from Bly Manor; lamented how fast children grow as Arthur's daughter married a man called Norton.

A sound from behind her; someone shifting against the wall. A rustle of fabric, the squelch of mud against the floor, and a few drops of water hitting wood.

"Do you remember?" Jamie asked, not turning around. "Do you remember him?"

Wet footsteps moved forward, stopping right behind Jamie's right shoulder. A water droplet hit her notebook, and Jamie caught a glimpse of long black hair from the corner of her eye, as Viola leaned forward.

"His name was Arthur," Jamie continued. "He was your husband."

A low, guttural keening bubbled up from the woman at Jamie's shoulder, soft at first, but growing louder. Jamie whipped her head around, eyes widening as she saw the woman leaning over her shoulder. Her face was different than before, more human. Still no eyes, but the outline of her nose and brow was stronger, her mouth less a hole in her face as lips were now visible. A hand clutched at Jamie's shoulder as the keening reached a crescendo, and Jamie reeled from the rush of anguish that followed it. Memories of love and happiness, followed by betrayal and anger and bitterness, flitting through her as her vision turned black.

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

May 1995

The hand on Jamie's shoulder made her jump, and she nearly knocked the pan off the stove as she turned around. Dani shot her an amused smile, letting her hand slide down Jamie's arm. Her other arm wrapped around Jamie's waist, as she pressed herself against her fiancée and chuckled.

"Jumpy this morning?" She asked, leaning in to kiss Jamie on the cheek and rest her chin on her shoulder. "Mmm, bacon?"

"And eggs, and sausages, and beans, and mushrooms, and tomatoes, and toast." Jamie grinned that cocksure grin that Dani loved. "You're getting a full English this morning."

"You already had me full of English last night," Dani said, nuzzling under Jamie's ear.

Jamie groaned. "That was terrible. That doesn't even make sense."

"I'm loopy," Dani defended herself. "Because I love you. And I'm going to marry you."

"Oh?" Jamie put the spatula down, and turned in Dani's arms. She settled her arms on Dani's shoulders, and leaned in for a kiss.

"You'll burn the bacon," Dani mumbled against her lips, smiling, even as her fingers slipped beneath Jamie's shirt, skirting along her hips.

"You like burnt bacon," Jamie replied, dotting kisses along Dani's jaw.

"Do I?" Dani pulled back, eyebrow raised. "Or is it the only kind of bacon you know how to make?"

"Dani," Jamie whined, as Dani took a step back, a smirk on her face.

"I don't think I should distract you right now," Dani said, voice light. "You have to concentrate on not burning the apartment down."

"That's not fair!" But Jamie was already turning back to her pan, realizing that, indeed, the bacon was in danger of burning. Beside her, Dani poured herself a cup of coffee.

"Do you need my help?" She asked, taking a sip.

"No, no." Jamie waved her away. "You go sit down. I'm making you breakfast."

"Whatever you say," Dani said, shrugging and making her way over to the kitchen island. She sat down on the other side, hands encircling her coffee mug as she watched Jamie move around the kitchen.

"This is literally the only thing I know I can make well," Jamie said. She paused, and her voice was quiet for her next words. "My Dad used to make it for us, when he was home, rare as that was."

"I didn't know that,' Dani said, voice soft and careful.

Jamie hummed. "He used to burn the bacon too."

"Well," Dani tapped her fingers against her mug. "Maybe burnt bacon isn't so bad."

Jamie shot her a grin, and the couple lapsed into comfortable silence. Dani drank her coffee, enjoying the sight of Jamie working, the smell of sizzling food, and the warm feeling in the kitchen.

"Do you want to have a ceremony?" Dani asked suddenly.

Jamie turned around, eyebrows raised. "A ceremony?"

"Like, a wedding," Dani said. "I know it wouldn't be…legally binding, or whatever. But we could still have a ceremony. Invite the people we love, eat some cake, have a party."

Jamie turned back to the stove, falling quiet for a moment, absently stirring the mushrooms.

"Do you want that?" She asked.

Dani swallowed, smile dropping. She looked into her coffee for a moment, then shook herself.

"We don't need it," she said, the smile returning. "But we should go on a honeymoon."

"A honeymoon, eh?" Jamie had begun plating, and with a final, careful placement of some very unburnt bacon, she turned and brought breakfast over to Dani. "I like the sound of that."

"Yeah." Dani pulled her stool forward, picking up her fork. "Yeah! We could go to Paris."

"And never leave the hotel room?" Jamie waggled her eyebrows.

Dani laughed. "We have to at least see Owen."

"Oh, well," Jamie leaned forward on her elbows. "I suppose we can do that."

"And then spend the rest of the time in the hotel room." Dani said, taking a bite of the baked beans.

Jamie laughed, and Dani's eyes crinkled at the edges as she laughed with her.

"Oh." Jamie sighed, her smile fading as she gazed at Dani. "I was an idiot today, wasn't I?"

Dani frowned. "What?" She asked around a mouthful of beans.

"I wish I had said yes," Jamie said. "To a ceremony. To a party. To a wedding. With you."

"Jamie," Dani breathed, slowly lowering her fork.

"I know we called each other wife after this," Jamie said, reaching forward and grasping Dani's hand. "And I know when civil unions came about we got one. But we never celebrated, did we?"

Dani's eyes shone, and she clutched Jamie's hands between her own, tightly. "It didn't matter," she said softly. "The rings-"

"Enough for me, if they're enough for you?" Jamie turned Dani's hand over, running her thumb over the claddagh ring on her finger, the one that matched her own. She lifted it to her lips, and kissed it, shutting her eyes as tears ran down her cheeks.

"And they were, Jamie," Dani whispered fiercely. "You were enough for me, always enough for me."

"And you for me." Jamie opened her eyes. "But the truth is, the more time went on, the more I thought about it, the more I wished I had said yes to a celebration. I wished I could have stood up in front of our friends, and our family, and committed to always being there for you, to loving you."

"Flora could have been a bridesmaid," Dani said, a light smile on her lips.

"Owen could have been my best man," Jamie grinned. "Or I'd ask him to walk me down the aisle. I can't decide which one he would freak out about more."

Dani gasped. "Miles could bring his boyfriend!"

"Oh, yes, except," Jamie titled her head. "They weren't together yet, when this happened."

"Right," Dani nodded. "Miles wasn't even out yet, poor kid. But maybe if we'd done it when we got the civil union."

Jamie pointed at her. "The smart one, as usual." She glanced towards the windows, covered in plants. "I could do the flowers."

"You'd want to do your own flowers?"

"Who else could I trust to get it right?"

Dani laughed, clear and bright as a bell.

"I would have liked planning a wedding this time," she said. "If it were with you."

"I'd have helped more, for one thing," Jamie replied, tucking a strand of hair behind Dani's ear.

"That's true."

Jamie gazed at her for a moment, before her expression became more distant, eyes looking past Dani.

"They legalized gay marriage in the Netherlands, you know?" She said. "In April."

"They did?" Dani asked, eyes widening slightly.

"Yeah," Jamie nodded. "And there's talk in Canada. And other countries. It's happening, Dani. If we'd just-if you'd just-"

"If we'd had a little more time," Dani whispered, hands gripping Jamie's painfully tight. "Jamie, I'm so-"

"Don't," Jamie stopped her, a warning in her voice. "Don't apologize."

"But-"

"No."

Dani's brow was furrowed, staring at Jamie as though something about her was confusing her.

"This is strange," she muttered. "Something is…wrong."

"It's just a memory," Jamie said, dropping her gaze to their joined hands. "It's not even real. What did you say the kids called it? Dream hopping. This is all just my memory."

Dani shook her head. "But this is…there's something weird."

"It's ok, Dani." Jamie kissed her fingers again. "It's just a memory."

Dani continued to stare, blue eyes darting between Jamie's green ones. She was fading away, even as Jamie watched her, and Jamie found herself desperately holding on.

"Wait," she said, voice breaking. "Please don't - don't go. Not yet. I like this one. Can we just stay here for a bit? It's not enough time, I haven't had enough time."

"There's never enough time, is there?"

Dani was gone, but from the seat beside her vacated one, Viola Lloyd gazed sadly at Jamie.

She looked different, again. Still not completely human, hair and dress still damp. She had eyes now, though they were clouded over, and the rest of her face was unnaturally smooth, like a mannequin in a store front. She heaved a heavy sigh, eyes trailing back to where Dani had sat moments before.

"You took her from me," Jamie whispered, tears spilling over.

"I did," Viola said. Her voice was scratchy, disused. "Before her time. It was the same with me, I think."

Jamie opened her mouth to retort angrily, but caught herself. This isn't why you're here, she thought sternly. Closing her eyes for a moment, she steadied herself against the counter, and breathed in, out and in again.

"You were sick," she said finally, opening her eyes, her voice carefully even.

"Yes," Viola replied, turning her face towards Jamie. "Very sick. I should have died, really. But I didn't. I held on. Stubborn."

"You didn't want to leave your husband," Jamie said.

"No," Viola shook her head. "It wasn't fair. I had fought so hard for the life I had. And there it was, slipping through my fingers, like sand in an hourglass."

"You wanted more time with him."

"Not just him." Viola's brow furrowed. "There were others. A family, I had a family. A small family, but a family all the same."

Jamie nodded. "A sister, maybe?"

Viola's face turned towards Jamie so fast it seemed to blur, and something there twisted, mouth curling, eyes hardening.

"Yes," she said, the word coming out in a snarl. "A sister."

#the haunting of bly manor #dani x jamie #damie #dani clayton #jamie #jamie the gardener #bly manor #heather writes fanfiction #chapter three!

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tabby-shieldmaiden · 4 years

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Another one for Friday Night Fights! The challenge hosted by @promptsforthestrugglingauthor . This one is a little weird, and admittedly was both inspired by me binging Girl Defined response videos, as well as my experiences at Church. It’s also written in second person, with the viewpoint character being a ‘nice church girl’. So, just a heads up.

Be a nice church girl.

You wake up Sunday morning, early enough to watch the beautiful sunrise that God had painted across the sky. Cheerfully, you get out of bed. You didn’t even have to set an alarm clock, because getting up at dawn on Sunday is just a habit to you. Of course it doesn’t bother you at all. You plan out your entire week around the couple of hours you spend in Church. Obviously you’d have slept early the previous evening. It is for your Father in Heaven after all.

You brush your pearly white teeth, carefully scrubbing over each one. They were white and shiny teeth. Of course they had to be. In Church, you could only be seen smiling. And no other expression could really be sufficient there. Before God, you simply had to present your best self, and what better way is there to exist in? Happy, cheerful, a delight. You simply were overjoyed to be there.

Your hair and makeup done. Perfected. Just feminine enough to be perceived as a perfectly charming woman. But not too flamboyant to the point where you would stick out. You pick out your outfit next. A simple dress. Floral patterned. A matching baby pink cardigan. White ballet flats of a fairly modest design. Nothing too sparkly, nothing too flashy. Just something simple but feminine. After all, it’s not like you go to Church to draw attention to yourself. All of this is to simply honour God. This was what everyone in Church wore, because it was modest, but presentable. And most importantly, no one would stick out. No one would individuate.

From your dresser, you reach for a simple gold chain. Then a simple set of earrings. They were fake pearls, which did make you a little upset. Because you knew a number of the other girls in Church had real pearl earrings and you knew you couldn’t exactly afford them. You prayed that God would help you with your sin of envy. After all, at the very least you did have those fake pearl earrings. Cheap-looking and uncomfortable as they are. You sometimes wished that you didn’t need to wear them. But alas, the look simply wouldn’t be complete without it.

You subconsciously catch yourself chewing your nail, but once you caught yourself you stopped. It was a bad habit. You knew. And after all that work you put into painting your nails, taking care of them, you really wanted to keep them in good condition. Just like how every other woman in Church had nice nails. They all sported evenly painted, unchipped nails. Your hands still shook every time you painted them.

People commented on your nail biting. How it was unhygienic, unsanitary, gross. You knew they just wanted what was best for you. It wasn’t like they were unconcerned. And anyways, they did have a point, didn’t they? Nail polish smelled horrible, but you soldiered through it to apply it on anyways. Maybe someday, you’ll get good enough at nail polish, so that when you see your nails, you would not feel the need to chew them.

You eat breakfast, and when you do you don’t drink coffee. Who really needs sustenance like that? All you really needed in life was the energy which God provides you with. Every day, you can just sleep your planned eight hours, no problem. God provides you with the discipline to stick to your daily schedule. This was no problem. Nothing was impossible for God.

Hail a cab to Church. Quickly, you made it. Everyone there is smiling, dressed in their Sunday best.

The men looked handsome and dashing in their suits and ties. The women looked beautiful and charming in their modest skirts and dresses. Everyone grins at you when you arrive. You talk about current events. Your families and your jobs; their children, nephews, nieces; sports; the weather; any gossip about other members of the congregation. All very engaging topics which you never used to be particularly interested in, but have found to be absolutely fascinating to talk about. The gossip especially, was a bad habit. But well, we all do fall short of the glory of God. He would surely forgive you.

You found it difficult to differentiate the people around you. You walked up to someone in an orange dress with shoulder length wavy hair, expecting it to be your friend Clara. Instead, it was Elizabeth. You walked up to a tall man with neatly gelled hair and a red tie, and you thought that he was Michael. But it was actually Joseph. It was a little embarrassing. But they were all good sports about it. That was something difficult you frequently had to deal with. Especially in Church. Navigating everyone, because for some odd reason you often had trouble differentiating the people around you.

Well, some people were easier to differentiate than others. Case in point...

In the corner, reading a book with a smiling dragon on the cover, sat a young girl in a baggy hoodie and a pair of ragged jeans. Her earphones were firmly plugged into her ears. She was listening to music. No one was talking to her, and she didn’t seem particularly bothered by that.

You could only sigh when you saw her. She had been like that for a long time. There had probably been a time when she was a cheerful, sociable child. But now all she did was hang back and keep to herself, which would not do at all. God had commanded us all to be a friend. So you figured you really ought to go over and talk to her. You think you remember her name - Rebecca, if you’re not wrong - so you head over to her, a wide, pearly white grin on your face.

“Hi, Rebecca,” you say. Your voice chipper and loud enough so that she may hear you over her music. It worked to get her attention. She looked up from her book, and pulled out her headphones. You smile. That’s at least some progress. She’s paying attention to the world around her now.

“Hi,” she said. She closes her book, but places a finger on the page where she left off. She shot you a fairly neutral expression. Neither a smile nor a frown could be seen on her face. Her lips were instead a perfectly straight line. Behind her glasses, her eyes just looked puzzled at why you were there.

You continued smiling. She smiled back, but only by slightly turning the corners of her mouth up. That was another step in the right direction! Smiling was good! Especially smiling in the house of God! Surely, no one had any real reason as to why that was supposed to be a bad thing. You slide beside her, sit next to her at the pew, and continue talking. “So, how have you been lately?”

“Okay,” she said. And then nothing else. Not a ‘how about you?’ or any other elaboration beyond that. That was upsetting. You remember a time back in your past when you were like that. But you soon learned the proper way to talk, hold a conversation. Thanks to all the people who taught you how to talk correctly. Soon, maybe Rebecca would catch on too.

You figured that, at least for now, maybe it would be a good idea to talk to Rebecca about something she was interested in. “What book are you reading?” You ask. It had a dragon on it, so it was probably a fantasy novel of some sort. Most likely a book she has owned for quite a while, since the spine was cracked and the pages were all dog-eared.

You were never all that into fantasy. When you were younger, you very much preferred science fiction. And though you frequently found yourself yearning at the new science fiction books on display at the bookstore, you knew you shouldn't get too caught up in reading them. Years ago, you used to stay up late reading all those books. Way past midnight. You wouldn’t even crack open your Bible. But now, you’ve made a commitment towards going to bed on time and reading your Bible every day. And though admittedly, some parts of your personal Bible study made you bored, or made you conjure up some terrible questions (no doubt just Satan attempting to make you question your faith), you keep pushing on. Those science fiction novels may be alluring, but they surely aren’t nearly as great as the treasures which would await you in Heaven.

Rebecca glanced at you, then showed you the back of the book. “It’s called ‘The Thief and The Knight’,” she said. Without any other comment.

You looked at the blurb at the back of the book, which read:

“What, no thank you? I went out of my way to help, you know, I didn’t have to.”

“You almost got me arrested!”

“But you didn’t, so there shouldn’t be a problem. Ungrateful!”

Tenia is a knight in training. Serious, clever, and an overall teacher’s pet, all the people in her life certainly had high hopes for her and her future.

Kavlin is a mischievous young thief. With nothing but the clothes on his back and his trusty dragon, Gason, he lives every day barely getting by, stealing whatever he needs to live.

The two of them couldn’t have lived lives more different. But one day, when their paths met in a market, they soon found their fates entangled permanently. Now Tenia needs to make a choice. Follow her head and continue her knight training, or follow her heart and walk a new path with Kavlin?

You sigh. This doesn’t sound like a particularly godly story. You recalled reading several similar stories like that when you were young, and it would always end with the obedient young woman leaving her neatly laid out life for some reckless, hedonistic man. That was definitely not how God intended for young women to live their lives.

But maybe there’s a twist in this story. “Hm, that sounds interesting. Does she go back to studying hard to become a knight?” You ask. Smiling in as kind a way as you could.

Rebecca shook her head, which was slightly disappointing for you. “She falls in love with him. They continue working together, she quits being a knight, and together they’re now thieves working to make the kingdom a much better, safer place for the poor.”

“But surely she could have done that while still being a knight? Without becoming a thief?” You ask. “The Bible says that we must use our gifts to help others in need. She could have done good for the poor using the gifts which made her such a promising knight, instead of going on to become a thief. There’s ways of helping others without disobeying the law.”

Rebecca looked at you, biting her lip. You hope that that’s a sign that she’s reconsidering reading something like that. God did say that we should be careful about what we read, and what we think about. If your words would convince her to stop reading something so immoral, that would only be a good thing.

She took her book back, and held it close to her chest. You shot yet another smile at her, hoping that she understood that you were only concerned about her and the state of her spirit. Hopefully, she will get there soon. You remember how hard it had been to forgo your sci-fi novels. Even to this day, you still kind of miss them. But you could live without them. You could live only on the word of God alone, without any other book. That was something you had to remind yourself almost every day. But it was worth it. It had to be worth it, to be God’s faithful servant.

“At least consider it,” you say. “I’m only concerned for your spiritual well-being, and I wouldn’t want you to get the wrong ideas from the wrong places.” Rebecca still stared at you, her face still seemed fairly expressionless. But maybe, with some prayers, she’ll have her heart and mind changed.

You thought that you heard someone call you, and so you turned back around. “I’m sorry Rebecca,” you say. “I think I’m needed elsewhere now. So I’m going to have to go.” Such a shame. You were hoping to chat with her for a bit longer. Now what she’ll do is slip her headphones back on and bury her nose back into that book of hers. You should know. That was what you used to do back when you were her age.

You tried to recall. Why did you used to do that? Socialising with others in Church was such a pleasant thing. You loved to go every week, and listen to them talk about all the minor life updates that they have. Their new houses and cars. Their children winning participation trophies. Surely, those things were always far more interesting that any book one could bury their nose in. You try and think back, why did you like to read and hide away so much from the world. But you could not dwell on that question any further, because soon you ended up swept away by the crowd. Your train of thought halted. And you got sucked, like a whirlpool, into a sea of identical pearly white smiles and modest dresses.

#friday night fights #fnf #tabby's writing #christianity tw #religion tw #female pov #2nd person pov #female second person pov #my writing

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bang-and-a-blintz · 4 years

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Through the Darkness

CHAPTER SIX - ROSEMARY GRITS

Fandom: Dracula (2020)

Relationship: Dracula/Roxana(OFC)

Rating: Mature

Warnings: None

Word Count: 4,475

Cafe Rose Nicaud had a moderate crowd for the afternoon rush. This allowed Dracula and Roxana to squeeze into a small booth in the far corner without having to wait. It was a cozy spot; the dark walls were lined with brightly painted caricatures of revered local musicians and the glass in the windows was covered with a colored film that reflected purple, green, and gold across the tables. Kermit Ruffin's trumpet cooed and floated casually out from the speakers in the ceiling.

A waitress shuffled over to drop off some menus and waters, when she smiled her cheeks were dotted and rosy and half her teeth were missing. Roxana thanked the woman and took a swig from the ice-cold glass. The midday sun heated the city quite nicely, making her light jacket feel a little too warm, so she shrugged it off and folded it up next to her. Dracula, on the other hand, and despite his all-black three-piece-suit, looked as cool as a cucumber as he lazily put his sunglasses into his breast pocket and picked up the menu.

The image struck her as strangely normal, too normal, to see Dracula sitting across from her at a small cafe tapping his claws against the tabletop and glancing over the menu with an almost bored look. Roxana used the opportunity to properly inspect him in the daylight. She couldn't deny that the man was attractive. His thick black mane was only slightly mussed from the walk, but otherwise impeccably maintained. He had such a distinguished facial structure that she couldn't help but to be in slight awe; from the serious, Slavic brow to the prominently defined cheekbones; he was every bit a good-looking villainous trope. She took particular notice of his full lips; what a soft and pillowy barrier between his vicious teeth and any poor soul that got too close.

By the way his brows knitted together as he read the menu, she gathered he was unfamiliar with the world of modern cuisine. It made it her wonder if he knew anything about human food at all.

"Do you even eat food?" Roxana asked curiously.

Dracula shook his head, "No, but I do find it intriguing how much stock you all put into food here. It's as if you really care about what you consume. I like that."

"Because food is lives. A single plate can tell the stories of the past or create visions for the future; it can soothe your soul, shed your tears, and inspire your senses. It allows us to survive but can just as well be a cause of death." She took another sip of water before continuing. "I believe that flavor is the essence of life and it is blasphemy to claim otherwise."

He stared at her for a moment with what almost looked like fondness. "I completely agree."

"It's a shame though."

"What's that?"

"Well, that you missed out on such a wonderful dish last night," Roxana's lips curved as he cocked his head, "I had really put in the effort and for that chateaubriand to be wasted on you is just tragic."

"To be perfectly honest, I had been thinking about a different kind of meal you could've offered." Dracula grinned, leaning closer across the table, "You know, it's bad for business, not providing for your client's needs and wants. That is something we shall have to work on."

She swallowed thickly, he was a bit too close and she could see nothing but the black hole of his gaze. His eyes were truly mesmerizing and she was afraid of getting lost inside that intimidating stare. Luckily for her, at that moment the waitress came back to take the order, Roxana was grateful for the distraction and spoke up first, "I'll take the rose benedict with some gator sausage and a house bloody, please cher."

"Not a problem, babe, and what about you, handsome?"

"I'm just here for the lady." He smiled boyishly. "But I wouldn't mind trying a tall glass of yourself."

She gave a shriek of laughter and pointed a crooked finger at him before collecting the menus back up, "Oh you're nothing but trouble. Alright, baby, that'll be right up, just holla if you need anything." She walked back towards the kitchen shaking her head. "Ohh, he's bad!"

"If she only knew," Roxana muttered.

He turned to smile at her, "That word you said, 'cher', what does that mean? You called me it earlier as well."

His question was innocent but it turned her cheeks a cherry red that Dracula found very enjoyable.

"Oh it's just a, um, a term of endearment." She spoke quickly as if the more words she managed to squeeze in would save her from embarrassment. "But don't think on it, honestly, it's just habit. Memaw used to say it, along with her cribbage friends, and my old cooking instructor…It comes from 'cherie', the french word for 'dearest' or whatever."

She didn't appreciate how pleased he looked and he most definitely was. It was the little things, he mused silently, that made her squirm and fluster. Another piece to the puzzle he was starting to put together.

"You seem to be warming up to me quite quickly."

"Ever heard of 'Southern Hospitality'? Calling people babe or cher or honey is habitual because we have a friendly culture, nothing more, so don't get your hopes up, sweetie."

"I understand the social pleasantries, but that is beside the point." Dracula looked pointedly at their proximity in the booth. He was right, and she knew it, because who else in their right mind would willingly sit down and have brunch with an undead vampire warlord from the fourteenth century? Maybe she was crazy.

"Look, I don't know how to…be about everything. Seeing as this situation is a little bit out of my realm, I'm just going to be cautious and courteous lest I become a snack."

"I told you," The vampire huffed, "I'm not going to kill you yet. And besides, I wouldn't have you as a snack, no, my dear, you would be a full-on, fine-dining, four-course meal and I intend to make you last."

Her face deadpanned.

"Here you go, baby." The waitress chose the most opportune moment to arrive with the bloody mary. A godsend, truly. "I gave you an extra piece of bacon, sugar, in case y'all wanted to share."

With a not-very-subtle wink towards Dracula, she hobbled away again. Roxana rolled her eyes and immediately started gulping down half the beverage before munching the first sweetened slice of pig. "She's really laying it on thick, huh?"

"I can't help it that I'm irresistible."

"Oh I'm not so sure of that," She popped a pepper into her mouth. "I've been in your company for less than twenty-four hours and I can already tell you are insufferable."

"Roxana!" Dracula mocked gasped and placed his hand over his non-beating heart, garnering some attention from the nearby patrons, "You wound me."

"You'll survive, I'm sure." She polished off the rest of the drink and smiled widely at the noisy tourists. They immediately looked back down at their plates; the key was to always kill them with kindness. "Anyway, if you're finished with being a drama queen, please tell me more about this council and dinner and all that. We've been getting slightly off track."

The Count sighed and raked a hand through his hair, completely oblivious to the exchange, "Basically there is a peace treaty being put into place because apparently things are getting out of hand for the city. The mortals want accountability and the council is trying to solidify an agreement. And as far the dinner goes, I imagine there are going to be a few more people from Mr. Kendell's committee as well as the heads of Keres' council. We will all wine and dine, figuratively for the supernaturals, of course, we'll sign some papers and all the political nonsense, all while you graciously host us."

"And then it'll be over? I won't have to deal with any of this after that?"

"Are you already tiring of my company?" Dracula's brow crinkled upwards and made him akin to a large puppy dog, but she was not fooled. Without letting her answer, he heaved a sigh and continued. "Well, I'd imagine that afterward, at a later date, there will be a ball. Seeing as it should be around the time Mardi Gras starts to pick up, I believe it will be a grand affair. You will be invited, no doubt, Keres is nothing if not socially polite."

"Yeah, sure, that sounds safe." She was being sarcastic, but her interest piqued considerably. A gala for a supernatural and mortal peace treaty during Mardi Gras? Roxana would be lying if she said that wasn't the coolest thing she had ever heard of. Call it some sort of morbid fascination that seemed to be interred in her bones because she always did have an affinity towards dark and strange things.

"I'll admit, Keres can be a bit uptight and a tad pretentious, but let me tell you, that woman really knows how to throw a party!"

"What's the deal with you two anyway, y'all an item or something?"

"Why, are you jealous?" He smirked as she went to protest but cut her off with a lazy wave of his hand, "No, no, no, she is definitely not one of my brides."

That stopped Roxana in her tracks and she stared at him incredulously, "I'm sorry, did you say brides? Plural?"

"Yes." Dracula's brows rose innocently. "I never have more than three at a time."

"What the fu-?" She was cut off by a steaming plate placed in front of her face. The smell wafted up to her nose and she deeply inhaled the tantalizing scent, momentarily distracted from the beast across from her.

"Anything else, hun?" Where the waitress stood, Roxana could only see an angel sent down from the heavens.

"Another bloody and make it a double, please."

The woman nodded knowingly and was off again.

Roxana took a moment to stare at the beautiful dish and appreciate its display. The rose benedict was one of her favorite brunch items; the succulently poached egg perched on top of a fluffy and flaky biscuit baked to perfection, layered with fresh arugula, sliced tomatoes and avocados, a juicy alligator sausage link, and the homemade hollandaise sauce that was magnificent. It was all placed neatly over a bed of the cafe's famous rosemary grits.

Simply divine.

Dracula watched with intent as Roxana delicately used her knife to break open one of the eggs and the yolk oozed out over the side of the dish. With precise hands, she cut a piece that contained a little bit of everything and brought the fork to her mouth. As she bit down and closed her eyes, she let out a little moan that should not have affected him the way it did. He began to salivate as his eyes focused on how her tongue dipped out to lick the little bit left on the corner of her lip and they slowly drew downward towards her neck, where he could hear her heartbeat thump solidly beneath her flesh.

The cheery waitress came back with Roxana's drink; she thanked the older woman and took a large swig, her eyes closed briefly in happiness at how strongly poured the beverage was. Thank the gods for vodka, she thought gratefully and then brought her focus back to Dracula. "So are you saying you have three brides right now? That sounds exhausting. Honestly how could you have time to follow me around all day?"

"No, no, I'm currently in the market." He leaned close and spoke conspiratorially, "It's really not all that difficult, you see, they're fairly easy to control once put in their boxes."

"You're horrible."

"I'm joking," Dracula reclined back in his seat and laughed, "Haven't done that in a few hundred years. No, nowadays it's a bit more complex, isn't it?"

"Relationships?"

"If you want to call them that, sure." He said, watching her for a moment as she cut into the second egg with the same precision as the first. "I've had some difficulties acquiring the right bride."

"Maybe if you practiced a little respect and some monogamy, you might have more success." Roxana took a sip of water and then made a facial shrug, "Or if they're into polygamy, then that's fine. It's not my bag but to each their own. Though I will say, the whole box thing is really fucked up and you've definitely got to cut that shit out."

He found her candor endearing. "It is an attempt I'm making."

"Is that why you wasted the day stalking me?"

"I have an eternity. One day is insignificant and therefore cannot be wasted." As he spoke, one of his large hands waved about and emphasized his speech. "Besides I wasn't stalking, you passed by my window near the square and I had nothing better to do."

"You followed me all the way from there?!" The Count just shrugged and folded his hands together in his lap. She rolled her eyes, "You need to find yourself a hobby."

Roxana ate the last bite of her meal before polishing off the rest of her drink and set the empty glass down with a satisfied sigh. Her stomach was full and her head was beginning to enter the realm of that familiar warmth that only accompanied good liquor.

Again with impeccable service, the waitress swung by again to pick up the dirty dishes and asked if anything else was needed. Roxana ordered another double bloody to-go and the check. She then excused herself to go to the bathroom and Dracula sat back to observe his surroundings. Idle chatter and clinking utensils on plates filled filling the cafe, but the vampire could hear nothing more than a symphony of heartbeats all thumping in a wild orchestrated sonata. He was getting very hungry.

The Count took a deep breath and reminded himself to be patient. All good things come with time. His companion returned at the same time as the waitress and when Roxana grabbed the check, she noticed that Dracula had latched his claws onto the other side. "I'll take care of that."

"Oh no, you won't!"

He smirked as her eyes narrowed, "Oh yes, I will."

"You didn't even eat."

"And?"

"I pay my own way."

"I insist."

They both had leaned closer and closer, not willing to break eye-contact nor their vice grips on the bill. Dracula was incredibly amused. Roxana was not. The waitress's head bounced back and forth along with their verbal tennis match.

"I will make a scene." She all but growled, eyes narrowing.

"Please," He matched her tone, "I would love to see that."

A pause.

"Damn girl, just take the free meal!" The waitress decided to take the opportunity to cut in, "Give him a little lagniappe later, ya heard me? If you don't, well, sign me up, baby."

Needless to say, Roxana was not happy when she walked out of the cafe and stormed down the street. Dracula followed, looking as smug as ever with his hands in his pockets and a little grin on his face.

After a few blocks and a few more swigs from her cup, she finally let go of her pride and slowed to walk alongside him once more. The sun had begun to set, sending its red and orange hues across the city to cut in between streets and through windows. She loved this time of day. The refraction of the sun created a heady glow that felt like a soothing hug to one's soul.

"Where are we off to next?" Dracula looked down at her, noticing her shoulders weren't as rigid as they were when they left the restaurant.

"A nice lady in the bathroom told me about some little show down by the river, thought that sounded lovely."

He made a face, "Modern toilet etiquette is baffling."

"We were just washing our hands," Roxana laughed at the count's confused expression. "Though you're not wrong. A lot more goes on in bathrooms than just 'using the loo.'"

She mimicked his acquired accent and he was thrilled to see her back to her cheerful self. Until her eyes lit up with a curiosity that he was beginning to recognize and he could already tell where her mind was heading.

"Wait, do you -?"

"No."

"But I didn't-"

"No."

"Could you let me-?"

"No." He said, chuckling as she huffed in frustration. "I know what you're going to ask and the answer is no. I have no use for a toilet. Good thing too, apparently, because according to you, there are plenty of strange things that happen in those receptacles that I have no wish of engaging in."

"Eh, it's mostly people doing drugs. You're not missing much." They turned the corner, she brushed away some hair that blew in her face and took another sip. "Unless you're into drugs?"

Dracula grimaced, "Not particularly. It depends on the drug."

"How about alcohol?" She looked up at him and he shook his head no. "So why did you choose New Orleans? You do realize this is a party city, right?"

"Because I see that there is more to this city than what meets the eye." He spread his hands out wide, "Look around! New Orleans is a delicious cocktail of artists and scholars, fighters and doctors, saints and sinners - it is a plentiful orchard of every imaginable fruit and I would be remiss not to pluck the ripened morsels. The culture here promotes hedonism and I am simply embracing it."

He watched as she paused and looked thoughtfully a bush of jasmine flowers. There were hundreds of them lining the block and wafting around their fragrant aroma. She bent down to pluck a group of three and then turned towards him, walking up close, and tucking them gently in his breast pocket.

"What's this for?"

"Something sweet-smelling," She continued forward, "You're starting to stink up the neighborhood with your evil."

"It was a compliment of the highest form - I've actually become quite fond of this city!"

"Yeah? So stop eating its people!" Roxana called over her shoulder. Dracula laughed in disbelief; she definitely would be an interesting flavor and he was very eager to try.

Catching up to her quickly, they made their way across the quarter and over to the river. By the time they arrived, the night sky had crept in, chasing away the rest of daylight. A small crowd had gathered over by the steps along the riverbank and in the center were a couple of musicians with their small amplifiers; the band was jamming and the crowd was dancing away. The music was a bit too uptempo for Roxana's taste but she could appreciate that everyone was having a good time.

"Is this your style of music?" He asked as they sat down next to each other on a bench overlooking the impromptu show. She noticed how close he sat and how he positioned his body angled towards her with his arm draped behind her. Knowing he was going towards being incredibly invasive and unnerving, she was not about to admit defeat and refused to scoot back.

"No, I'm more of a blues or tragic rock 'n roll kind of gal. The sadder the better, I say."

"But you seem so…happy."

"Yeah, well, you seem like a gentleman, but we both know what you're really after here." She gave him a pointed look. "All of us wear masks, Mr. Balaur."

"Fair enough."

They sat for a while and watched the impromptu set until the sky grew darker and the city lights flickered awake. The heat of the sun disappeared along with it and brought in the chilly air once more. A swift reminder to Roxana that she only brought a thin coat. She chugged down the remainder of her drink, in hopes of creating some sort of liquor blanket, and pulled her jacket closer.

"As surprisingly nice this evening turned out to be, I need to get home. So I'm going to head out." She stood up and turned towards him.

"Would you like a ride?"

"No!" She said a little too loudly and then cleared her throat, blushing. "I mean, no that's fine, I'm just going take the streetcar."

"Nonsense, I can drive you, my car is close by."

"Seriously, I'm fine. Thank you, though."

"I'll accompany you to the streetcar then - and I won't take no for answer."

Roxana knew better than to even try and just spun on her heel, walking away and knowing that he would shortly keep up. They weaved back through the maze of the quarter towards the hub on Canal Street and maintained their amiable silence. Dracula kept a few steps distance from her and easily clung to the shadows. She thought it was strange, but made no comment. Must be his nature.

A few blocks from the bright and bustling main street, they were the only people walking around as they passed by a dimly lit parking garage. Where an attendant usually sat was only an empty booth and a single flickering light.

There was a flash of steel and suddenly a man appeared out from around the other side of the booth. He was wielding a knife. The guy pointed it at Roxana, not seeing Dracula in the darkness, and he gave her a grin that sent chills down her spine.

"Hey there, doll. Why don't we make this nice and easy?" His voice sounded like a kazoo made out of sandpaper; wheezy and scratchy and a tad too high-pitched.

Normally, this would be the moment she would grab her mace, spray, and run; but then she remembered the five-hundred-year-old genocidal bloodsucker creeping unseen behind this lunatic. Better the devil you know and all that.

"Hello."

The man jumped and pointed his weapon as Dracula materialized out of the shadows. "Where the fuck did you come from?"

"Wallachia."

"Bless you." Roxana couldn't stop the words from leaving her mouth and when he gave her an incredulous look, she just put a hand up in apology.

"Shut up, both of you, and give me what you've got." He waved the blade back and forth between the pair them. "Or I'll slice y'all right up!"

Dracula and Roxana exchanged looks. He took a deep breath and stepped towards the man. "Let's make a deal, hm? I'll give you what you want, if you give me what I want?"

"What? You crazy, old man?"

"No, no, not crazy, just a businessman." He smirked, "What do they say? Quid pro quo?"

"Well whatchu want then?"

"It's very simple, actually, I just need you to say 'yes'."

The man looked bewildered and faltered his grip a bit on the knife, "Why the fuck-?"

"Have you been drinking? On any drugs?"

"What're you a cop?

"No. I just don't like the taste." The count gave him a look and the man slowly shook his head. Compelled almost. "Good, now, back to business."

Dracula took another step closer and pulled out a rolled-up wad of money, raising his eyebrows and wagging it in the air. The guy gulped audibly, not able to take his eyes off of the prize cash.

"What…what did you want again?"

The vampire lowered his voice, "Just say 'yes'."

"…Yes?"

The tension was thick. Dracula smirked as he glanced over to see Roxana staring at them, her wide eyes with rapt attention. Oh he hoped she would enjoy the show. "That's good enough for me."

Frozen in horror, she watched as his eyes filled with a dark red, and his teeth extended to frightening lengths. He launched at the man with the knife and slapped the blade away, gripping the mortal effortlessly and latching his jaw around the tender neck. Sounds of hissing and slurping and growling battled the poor guy's cries of terror which bounced and echoed across the buildings.

She wasn't sure she could move even if she tried. Roxana just stood there and dumbly stared as Dracula drank his fill. After a few moments, she didn't know because time appeared to stand still, he looked to be finally sated. The count detached himself by brutally ripping out part of the muscle in the man's neck, making a show of spitting it across the sidewalk, and then tossed the body to the side like a useless rag doll. Even in the dark of the night, she could still see the smear of blood across his mouth and the pointy white teeth from his devilish grin.

He put the wad of money back in his pocket and pulled out a handkerchief to dab at his cheek, acting as if nothing ever happened. Noting her shock, he just rose a single brow, "What?"

"What?" She mumbled and then shook her head roughly, snapping herself out of the daze. "What?! What do you mean? The fuck was that?!"

"He said yes. Verbal consent."

"You have no concept of what consent actually is."

"Oh come on, he was going to stab you, I saved your life." He stepped towards her and she could clearly see the blood now, it even tainted his teeth. She could smell it.

"You're a monster."

Dracula took another step into her personal space. "That's a terrible way to show gratitude."

The image began to repeat in her mind of his teeth tearing so viciously into the flesh and the blood dripping from the count's chin as he rolled his eyes back in ecstasy. Over and over and over again.

He noticed she had paled significantly and got a glazed look in her eyes, "Are you alright? You're not looking so well."

She felt it churn in her stomach and claw up her throat, and without any attempt to stop the inevitable, Roxana promptly vomited all over Count Dracula's fancy suit.

Taglist:

@festering-queen @vissidarte213 @moony691 @torntaltos @allis143 @apocalypsenowish

#through the darkness #dracula x oc #dracula x ofc #dracula bbc #dracula 2020 #whoooo another one!

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perhapsitmaybedragons · 4 years

Text

God’s A Right Bastard But Then So Am I Chapter 3

Ok, still getting writing done. This is bizarre for me.

As always, either click here to read on AO3:

https://archiveofourown.org/works/26633029/chapters/65053045

Or keep reading below:

“I have no idea what to do,” Anathema admitted after Adam unloaded all of his fears on her. He was supposed to be in school right now, but he'd got on his bike to go then doubled back to get to Jasmine Cottage. He hadn't even told the Them he was going.

“But you're a witch, and an adult! You must have some ideas. Turn me into a frog or something, that way I can't hurt anyone,” he shut his eyes tight, “I'll turn myself into one, that's what I'll do. And you can put me in one of those aquarium box things and Wensley will take care of me. Just until it's all over.”

Nothing happened.

“I can't turn you into a frog,” Anathema said gently. “And I don't know why your powers didn't go away. But Adam, last time you chose not to do anything bad. You came back from it and you didn't destroy the world. Why don't you think you can beat it again?”

“Last time didn't feel as scary,” he struggled to find the right words. “Last time it started with knowing I could change things the way I want them, but this time I can still make things happen but it feels like they're happening to me instead of because of me. I've been trying not to do any of the things the other Them can't, but they happen anyway even if I don't try to make them. I rode my bike over to Mr. Aziraphale's the other day, and it only took me-”

“Ten minutes,” Anathema and Newt finished for him.

“Yes, we'd noticed,” Newt admitted. “Us too. When we went for the surprise party for Crowley, only ten minutes driving.”

“I didn't mean to,” Adam said earnestly. Newt put a hand on the boy's shoulder and squeezed in what he hoped was a reassuring way. He'd always liked when his mother had done it to him, but he felt somehow that he wasn't doing it correctly.

“Do you think we should tell Crowley and Aziraphale?” Newt suggested. “They're a bit closer to all of this then the rest of us. They might be able to help?”

“It's worth a try,” Anathema agreed. “But Adam, aren't you supposed to be in school right now?”

“This was more important,” he said insistently. “It couldn't wait, I swear.”

Anathema was no fan of the school system anyway, so she didn't fight him. Newt looked uncomfortable, though. “All right. Well, we'll just get on over to the bookshop and see what Aziraphale thinks.”

It's a lie to say that no one knows the innermost thoughts of God. Whales have been trying to tell humans for ages, but humans just record the lovely whale songs and use them to try to get themselves a better night of sleep. Cats know, but have decided that humans wouldn't be able to handle it. Dogs know, but they keep getting too distracted to come out with it.

Humans sometimes can come close to it, but they've never quite gotten there.

The ones least able to fathom the mind of the Almighty these days were the uppermost echelons of angels. Gabriel, Micheal, Sandalphon, even the voice of God, the Metatron, were all puzzled that the Great Plan hadn't gone off as they'd always expected. Despite Aziraphale's insistence that they should realize it was the Ineffable Plan, they had gotten it into their heads that Crowley and Aziraphale had managed to undo all of God's careful planning.

“Don't know how they managed it,” Gabriel grumbled yet again as he swapped out his pearl tailored jacket for a pure white one. “Has anyone been able to get through to Her?”

Everyone shook their heads. “I HAVE NOT BEEN ABLE TO REACH HER. I HAVE NOT BEEN ASKED TO SPEAK FOR HER.” The Metatron responded.

“What do you think it could mean?” Michael asked. They were sitting in an upper board room in heaven. It was so high up that the only view out of the perfectly clear windows was clouds. Gabriel was the only one standing (if one does not count The Metatron, who could only project his head – though even that was floating above an office chair).

“We have to consider that somehow those two may have figured out how to cut us all off from God,” he put his arms behind his back as he paced, thinking aloud. “We know She knows all, and She is above being corrupted. But Her not answering us, her most ..beloved and devoted? No, those two did something, I'm sure of it.”

“But how could they have?”Uriel shook her head. “That doesn't seem possible.”

“An angel surviving hell fire and a demon surviving holy water wasn't supposed to be possible either,” he slammed his hands down on the table. “We have to continue with the plan as we've decided, even if we do have to work with,” he paused to shudder, “demons.” He spat the word out.

“I just don't know,” Uriel tried again. “I agree the world should have come to an end, but how can we be certain we're doing the right thing? Demons can't be trusted.”

Michael leaned forward in her chair and put a hand on Uriel's shoulder. “We can be sure because God is all knowing. She knows what we're up to. If She didn't want us to be doing this, She would already be stopping us, wouldn't she?”

The hills are alive with the sound of music

“I am going to break this stupid thing,” Crowley glared at the gramophone, knowing what was coming next.

Everything went all right, Crowley?

“Why are you even asking me? You already know, don't you?”

Yes, but I don't want to show off. Getting you close to see it for yourself should have removed any doubt I was lying to you.

“You're God, you don't lie. You just play games with the universe, right?” He set his feet up on the coffee table and leaned himself back on his couch. “One that only you know the rules for.”

I can't tell you the names of the riders.

“What, is it going to be some big surprise? If you give me the names maybe I could do something about them before this all goes down again. Is Adam going to be involved?”

Yes, he is. And you may be about to suggest that you kill him, but we both know you're too fond of him for that. And that it isn't your thing to kill children.

“Yeah, I've been wanting to talk to you for a while about that flood you only saved Noah and his family from, by the way-”

We don't have time. Not now. And before you say that I am God and therefore not bound by the laws of time, that is true, but I need you to act and you are bound by those laws, even if it is by less than the average human or even demon. Took you a lot of power to stop time to help Adam out, right?

“You know, I got cast out just for asking questions. Why do you get to ask so many? Especially the kind you know the answer to?”

He waited for an answer, but none was coming. While waiting, his eyes fell on the box with Agnes's prediction. Sighing, he grabbed the box and opened, only to find a small index card with the words:

“Be not afraid, even when dragons bane is brandished by thine enemy. A new revelation awaits ye.”

“Well, lovely sentiment there, Agnes, but fat lot of help,” he tossed the card down, not even bothering to pick it up when it fell on the floor. “Always hated the book of Revelations. Worst book of the whole Bible, if you ask me.”

I'm not fond of the book of Job myself, God offered.

“Why do you only talk through the gramophone? Hell uses the radio, it's a lot more efficient. Or you could...I don't know, text? You're the Almighty, surely you didn't use up all your imagination creating thousands of types of beetles?”

I have allowed Gabriel and the others to set up the rules of contact between myself and anyone who isn't an angel. I can only contact a demon like yourself through something Heaven touched, or they would be alerted.

“You mean because Aziraphale made some changes to this thing you're allowed to talk to me through it without it going on their radar?” He groaned. “If I'd known that I'd have given him the damn thing back! Does Aziraphale know about that rule?”

Probably. He's the only one who reads all of the notices that get sent out from Heaven. And reads through all of the Terms of Agreements for electronic devices. But he wouldn't expect me to contact you, and probably wouldn't expect you to answer me.

“Yeah, well, you've insisted that he and I are at risk if I don't, so I don't have much choice there anyway, do I? What's the next job?”

I need you to go to Heaven.

“Oh, ok, you want me to commit suicide,” he kicked at the table, just hard enough to jostle the gramophone without tossing it off. “Aziraphale could go in with less trouble-”

Not after his trial he couldn't. And he'll want to talk to the others to see if there's some way to work out a peaceful resolution. My will has been done by the angels since before time began, but that means they know all the loopholes. If I speak to an angel, any of them, there are records. Same if I talk to humans, those are recorded as prayer.

“But you don't talk to demons and the angels see us as so low they never considered you'd want to talk to one of us,” Crowley finished for her. Most demons didn't have an imagination, but that made it sound like angels did. But rather, angels could only imagine things where they inevitable came out on top with humans just below them and demons much further down. “But you could still tell me what do do.”

I am telling you as I need to tell you, Crowley. Have faith.

With songs they have song for a thousand years

“Have faith She says,” he grimaced, getting himself up from the couch to pour himself several glasses of wine. “Wants me to break into heaven and have 'faith'” He poured the first glass, downed it, then went directly for the bottle rather than pour more. He pulled out his phone to start to dial Aziraphale and then put it back down, cursing himself and God for this one.

“I'll tell him when it's all over. Provided we all survive it this time,” he chugged the rest of the bottle, opened a new bottle and drank that, too. He went back to the couch with a 3rd bottle and sat down, grabbing the card from Agnes off the floor. “Well, Agnes, I am already not following your advice because I am well and truly afraid and I can't even warn the others about how shit-pantsingly terrified they should be.” He drank the last bottle and curled up and fell asleep.

#good omens #good omens fanfiction #aziraphale #crowley #good omens god #adam young #anathema device #newt #newton pulsifer

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amyscascadingtabs · 5 years

Text

i’ll walk through hell with you

chapter 2: i guess truth is what you believe in

read chapter one

read on ao3 here

Amy and Leah visit family, a holiday is celebrated, and illness takes over the Santiago-Peralta household.

december

If there is one thing Amy is certain of, stuck in the car with 97 miles to go and an overtired toddler in the back seat, it is that something must be seriously wrong with her.

No one in their right mind says yes to a family weekend upstate with all siblings and their families nine days before Christmas. Not when it’s a three-hour drive. Not while they’re already left alone to care for their child for the weekend due to a time-sensitive and crucial opportunity coming up in a case Jake has worked for two months. Not when previously mentioned child is recovering from a cold and is ten times more cranky and attention-craving than normal.

Except - apparently - Amy.

She doesn't know what the fuck she was thinking.

She knows some thought went into her plan, such as the idea to drive late at night so Leah could sleep in the car. She simply wishes it could have worked, because right now the toddler is singing Wheels On The Bus for the seventeenth time in forty minutes and Amy feels like her head is going to explode. It's a quarter to ten, over two hours past the kid’s bedtime, and so far she refuses to fall asleep. She's wide awake in her seat, chatting and laughing and singing like there’s no tomorrow. If Amy had as much as a spare drop of energy left -even better, if there had been another parent in the car to focus on entertaining their child - the whole thing would have been adorable, but tonight it’s exhausting above anything else.

“Maaa-maaa?” Leah shouts the word from the back seat, wildly kicking her legs against the back cushioning, and Amy has to take a deep breath before she can reply in a calm tone.

“Yes, baby?”

“Are we there?”

“Not yet, Lee.”

Amy can see the reflection of Leah scrunching her forehead in the baby car mirror. “Why?”

“Because we still have a little way left to drive. We’ll be there soon, I promise.”

“Soon?” Leah shines up, kicking her legs again. “When is soon?”

“It will go faster if you close your eyes for a while,” She tries, using one of the oldest parenting tricks in the book. “I promise.”

“Not tired!” Her daughter responds in her cheeriest voice, and Amy gives herself a mental pat on the back for stifling a groan.

They repeat this exchange about ten times or so before Leah tires of it and returns to her singing. At that point, Amy’s counting it as a win. As much as she loves being this kid’s mom, there are indubitably times - and late-night drives with an overtired two-year-old in the back seat - when she loves it less.

Then Leah falls asleep for the last ten miles of the drive and clutches her arms and legs around Amy like a koala to a tree when she’s lifted out of her car seat and carried to bed, and it’s easier than ever to love being a mom.

There’s never an uneventful day with all of the Santiagos in the same house, and it’s not any more relaxing with the extra presence of six partners, twelve grandchildren, and one dog. From the moment Amy and Leah make their way down to the kitchen for breakfast, and the toddler finds out there might be a cookie baking session with grandma happening today, the day is in full swing. Leah joins her in facetiming Jake for a few minutes to say good morning, but after that, Amy barely sees her daughter for more than a split second in several hours.

The chaos is a welcome distraction. She plays Cards Against Humanity with Luis’s teenage daughters and Julian until Simon starts begging them to help him make a YouTube video, and she teaches five-year-old Noah how to draw the perfect portrait of a horse. She reads a story to three-year-old Maisie, and she laughs heartily at the sight of Leah chasing Oscar the Bichon Frise around while yelling Kitty Cat!. For a few, wondrous hours, Amy manages to live in blissful oblivion over the two starkly negative pregnancy tests she unceremoniously shoved in the bathroom trash can before leaving yesterday, and it feels like heaven.

It feels like heaven up until she joins the crew of brothers and partners currently taking up space in the kitchen. Her brother Isaac is parked in the middle of the kitchen couch, feeding the youngest Santiago member, just-turned one-month-old Milo, with a bottle; around him Camila, Luis, Tony and his wife Clara all fawn over and admire every aspect of the newborn’s appearance. Christian, Julian and Julian’s husband Lucas are at the other end of the kitchen cuddling with and doting on the exhausted dog, and Amy silently curses her allergies for making her unable to join them. Simon just brought out his camera in the living room and she refuses to risk another unwilling YouTube appearance, so her only option is to sit down with the team of awestruck baby-admirers.

“You forget how tiny they are,” Luis says, watching the infant with a nostalgic glance in his eyes. “I’ve had five, and you never get used to it.”

“You don’t,” Camila confirms with a small laugh, reaching out to stroke the baby’s closed fist with her thumb and index finger. “Not even I do. I’m shocked every time!”

“I thought I remembered everything from when Maisie was born.” Isaac grins, giving the empty baby bottle to Camila and carefully lifting the infant upright against his shoulder. “But then he comes out, and I think he must be several pounds lighter because surely Maisie was never this tiny, but he was bigger!” He shakes his head. “It’s insane.”

“He’s so cute,” Tony chimes in. “Do you get to sleep anything? I’m nervous about that.” His left hand is resting next to Clara’s on top of her visible baby bump. Amy lets out an audible snort upon hearing about her brother’s main cause for worry, but Isaac just grins.

“You get used to it. It’ll probably be worse for Clara anyway.”

“Great.” Clara grimaces, turning to Amy. “I can’t even sleep now! I either have a baby sleeping on top of my bladder or kicking me in the ribs for the whole night.”

“I remember.” She smiles, thinking back to the few times late in her pregnancy she’d made Jake sleep on the couch only because she couldn’t stand listening to his snoring on top of it all. “It sucks, and then everyone keeps telling you to sleep while you still can and you’re trying not to punch them.”

“Exactly!” Her sister-in-law laughs, tucking a strand of red-blonde hair behind her ear. “At least everyone says it’s worth it.”

“If it wasn’t, I wouldn’t have done it so many times,” says Camila, and Clara looks relieved. “Oh, Amy, you need to hold Milo for a little while! He’s been in everyone’s arms except for yours today. Isaac, send him to Amy.”

“Oh.” She squirms in her seat, a nervous feeling in the pit of her stomach. “It’s okay. I was just going to look for Leah anyway -”

“Leah’s upstairs doing puzzles with Sarah and Samuel,” Isaac explains, referring to David’s two-year-old twins. “She’s fine. You can hold him, Ames.”

“I think I’m good… okay, no choice, I see.” Her younger brother’s already holding out the infant to her, and before she can adjust to the thought, there’s a tiny, yawning baby in her arms.

It’s achingly familiar, yet it feels like it’s been forever.

At first, it’s like every muscle fiber in her body tenses with the sudden awareness that there's a fragile, helpless human in her arms and the weight of terrifying responsibility resting with her for a moment. It's been two years since Amy last held a newborn, and she certainly forgot how breakable they feel when they haven't learned to support their own head. Then Milo lets out a content sigh, his mouth twitching like he's smiling at her, and although she knows he's too small and it's likely just gas, the brief facial expression makes her feel chosen.

She's missed this, she realizes. Noting the classic Santiago baby appearance traits, the head of dark hair and the little button nose, she thinks of countless hours spent holding her own clingy newborn two years ago, and bites her lip when she remembers that she still has no idea when she’ll get to do it again. Milo’s adorable, and Amy's secretly wishing he could stay in her arms forever or she could steal him and take him home with her, but he's also a painful reminder of what she wants most and doesn't have yet.

“He likes you,” Isaac comments, nodding towards the infant. “You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one?”

She freezes at the sound of his question, instantly clueless about what constitutes a good reply. She could tell him the truth, of course, and probably receive a flood of well-meaning advice about the best ways to conceive, but doing so would lead to expectations. Santiagos aren’t known for struggling to have kids, and she’s terrified of handling a hoard of family members subtly trying to figure out whether or not she's pregnant every time they see her. It's enough pressure coming from herself. She doesn't need people adding to it - least of all her family.

“Oh,” she says instead, avoiding eye contact by playing with one of Milo’s fists. “Well, we’re not sure yet.”

“Two years is the best age span between siblings,” Luis chimes in. “We always tried to aim for two years and our kids are super close.”

“Yes, yes, two years is perfect,” Camila agrees, nodding eagerly. “The adjustment is much more difficult when they’ve turned three, or four, and suddenly they’re not the youngest anymore… Sometimes I think Tony never got over his grudges against Simon!”

“I’m telling you, mom, that’s not it, we have a grudge because four years ago he made me do that awful cinnamon challenge that almost gave me an asthma attack and filmed it -”

“Two years is great,” Christian interrupts his younger brother’s story without remorse. “We went for two years between Isabel and Noah and it was perfect. You do want to have more than one kid, right?”

Amy has never wished harder for a baby in her arms to start crying.

She needs to get away, out of the situation where she has to hear and answer these sudden intrusive questions, but Milo shows no signs of waking. She’s stuck with a panicky, claustrophobic sensation in her chest and a forced smile on her lips.

“We do,” she replies to Christian’s question, weighing every word carefully. “We’re just not sure when.”

“No point in waiting,” says Isaac, looking at the baby in Amy’s arms. “I wish we’d had Milo earlier!”

There must be a lack of air in the room, or her allergy medicines have stopped working and are making her react to the dog, because she can’t shake the feeling she’s suffocating. She's feeling trapped even in the spacious kitchen, and although she knows everyone has their eyes fixed on Milo, she can't shake the feeling it's her they're staring at.

She wonders if they're seeing right through her; if they somehow know about negative pregnancy tests of yesterday, or if they can sense her desperation and frustration in the fake smile plastered on her face.

“I suppose you never know,” she answers somehow, heart pounding too quickly. “I, uh… have to go to the bathroom. Do you want to hold him for a little while, Clara?”

Amy senses eyes on her as she sneaks out the kitchen, hurries through the hallway and grabs her coat before heading out and sitting down on the porch, but she can't bring herself to care. She has to fill her lungs with fresh air and get away from well-meaning but prying questions, or she’s going to have a full-on breakdown.

There’s a layer of snow on the ground, too thin for any children or adults to be playing in but enough to give a sense of hope for a white Christmas. She scrapes her fingers through the minuscule ice crystals gathered on the wooden decking, drawing an uneven heart with her index finger and following it with another.

You do want to have more than one kid, right?

She draws a third, smaller heart below the two bigger ones.

You and Jake haven’t thought of having another one anytime soon?

She draws a fourth tiny heart next to the third one.

No point in waiting.

She hides her fist in the sleeve of her winter coat, rubbing it over her drawings and turning them into nothingness. She curses the fact that Jake’s working, that he and Rosa are following up some highly important leads today and their mission would likely be sabotaged if she called and interrupted her husband now, and she curses the fact that Leah’s having the time of her life playing with her cousins and would probably scream in protest if Amy tried to steal her for cuddles.

It’s not too cold outside with her warm coat keeping her comfortable, but she’s still shivering, so she wraps her arms around herself and tries to blink away the tears taking form in her eyes.

She’s aware she’s being ridiculous. Having a baby takes more than a couple months of trying in many, many cases - the majority of them, even. She’s far from unique, yet a sneaking suspicion and vexing anxiety are lingering with her.

No point in waiting.

She puts one hand on her chest and one hand over her stomach, trying to focus on the fresh air flowing in through her nose and out through her mouth, filling and leaving her for each inhale and exhale.

“Just relax,” she whispers to herself, pretending it's Jake's voice saying the words, his unwavering belief that it will all be fine she's listening to.

“Are you sure you’re still my sister? Have you had some kind of personality change?”

“Huh?” Amy almost jumps at the sound of Julian’s voice, bringing her out of her focused breathing and forcing her to look up.

“You’re willingly outside in the cold weather,” he declares, slumping down next to her. “Even with a coat on, that's impressive for you.” She notes that he's only wearing a hoodie himself and seems unbothered by the temperature.

“I needed fresh air.”

“Because of Oscar? I swear his breed is supposed to be allergy-friendly, we researched that stuff in depth. Maybe your allergies are just undefeatable?”

“No, it’s fine as long as I don't pet him.” Amy places a hand on her brother's shoulder, squeezing it. “Oscar’s great. Leah's in love with him.”

“Isn't he amazing?” Julian's grin is comically wide, his eyes sparkling with undiluted pride. “He can sit, and roll, and catch, and play dead if he gets enough candy! Parenthood is incredible. I’m so glad our kids get along.” He doesn't entirely sound like he’s joking, and Amy can't help but laugh at his excitement. “So if it wasn't Oscar, why did you leave?”

“Were you listening to the conversation?”

“Eh, bits and pieces. How so?”

She sighs. “They - mom, and Isaac and Christian, mostly - interrogated me about whether we’re planning to have another baby anytime soon.”

“And you’re not?”

“We are! We’re actively trying for it.”

“Oh! Cool,” Julian nods, scratching the stubble on his chin. “I can get behind that. I wouldn't have anything against reproducing with those Peralta genes either if I could.” Amy elbows her brother in the side at that, probably way harder than necessary, and it makes him gasp in offense. “Hey! It’s just objective facts that he's attractive!”

“I’m telling Lucas you said that.”

“Lucas agrees. Either way - if you actually are trying, what's with the tears and the sudden storming out?”

“I didn't storm out,” she protests, and he gives her a meaning look of judgment as if to say yes, you did. “And it's nothing.”

Julian snorts. “Sure it is.”

“It's not a big deal.”

“Mm-hmm.”

“It's just making me a little stressed is all.”

“A little.”

“Okay, okay, fine.” Amy groans, placing her head in both hands and quickly running her fingers through her hair. There's a knot in the back of it, and she busies herself trying to pull it apart as she speaks. “We are trying. It's just not going very well yet, I guess. It’s making me nervous, and it's not something I want to tell everyone in our family about, because, well… we’re not exactly known for struggling with that.”

Julian is silent, and there’s a moment where Amy wonders if she’s managed the impossible. For all their countless petty fights and differences, Julian has always had a reply to offer her. Sometimes he’s supportive, sometimes questioning, and sometimes he’s all over judging her decisions, but he never ignores her worries when she chooses to confide in him. It throws her off to see him take so long to answer her now, and she watches him twist the white gold wedding ring on his finger absentmindedly while he grimaces.

“No,” he says right as she starts to consider tapping him on the shoulder to make sure he’s conscious. “I guess we’re not known for struggling with anything. Has this… been a problem for a long time?”

“A couple of months.”

“...Is that a long time? I’m not great with this heterosexual business. I’m much better with waiting times for adopting a dog.”

The corner of her mouth twitches. “It’s not that long. But it’s longer when you don’t have a lot of time to begin with.” Julian looks about as perplexed as if she’d been trying to explain the intricate details of quantum physics to him, and she clarifies. “Fertility decreases as you age.”

“Right. Yeah.”

“I’m thirty-nine. Maybe I shouldn't panic yet, but in a year, or two…” Amy shakes her head. “It gets really low. Higher chances of miscarrying. Chromosome variations. Premature birth. You name it. Basically, the sooner I get pregnant now, the better and safer it is for everyone.”

“I see.”

“So there's some time pressure,” she explains further, connecting her hands inside the coat sleeves to eliminate the cold that's started to seep in. “And it’s making me terrified something's wrong with me already. That it's not going to work. That we’ll never be able to have a second kid. I know that's maybe not the end of the world, but… I really, really want it, and I’d be heartbroken if it didn’t happen.”

A pair of stubborn, humiliating teardrops make their way down her cheeks at the thought, and she untangles her hands to quickly wipe them away.

“I’m sure it'll work out, Ames.” Julian's smile is partly sympathetic and partly insecure when he speaks, like this subject is miles out of his comfort zone but he's trying his best anyway. “As you said, two months is nothing, right? Mom was like, 42 when she had Simon. Surely if anyone's got the genes for this, it’s our family.”

“Yeah. It's never a guarantee, though, and I can’t handle their questions. Two years is the best time between siblings,” she imitates in an exaggerated high-pitched tone, and Julian laughs heartily. “As if I wasn’t already pressuring myself about the same thing. But I can't tell them that, because then they’d start asking.”

“Mm, our family does lack all understanding of what privacy is sometimes.” Julian grins. “There are several options even for gay men! Surrogates! Adoption! I read this article in a magazine where a pair co-parented with lesbians!” His shrill imitation tone is awful and hilarious at the same time, making Amy snicker. “I think she was mad at me for weeks after I told her we were happy with a dog. She means well, but it just becomes a lot.”

“Doesn’t get easier when it’s something you already want, either.”

“You’ll be fine.”

“Maybe. I hope so.”

“If not, I’m pro-dogs. They’re pretty much like children, except you don’t have to create a college fund for them. A win-win situation if it weren’t for the fact that owning a dog could probably kill you. But other than that!” Julian stretches his arms over his head, looking mighty proud of himself. “Solid.”

“I’m already busy trying to talk Jake out of buying a cat,” says Amy, massaging her temples at the thought. “But he’s managed to get Leah obsessed with them, so I think I’m losing.”

“That’s why she’s calling Oscar a cat! Wow. Jake’s a genius.”

“Well, that and she’s two. And please don’t ever tell him that, because his ego would literally explode.”

Amy can feel her face going numb from the cold outside, a sudden gust of wind coming at them and making her eyes tear for a new reason. The fact that she’s lost track of time hits her, awakening an uneasiness and a sudden need to get inside and check up on how her daughter’s doing, so she gives Julian a quick, rare hug, and is surprised when he squeezes her back for a long time.

“Thanks for coming out,” she mumbles, and he nods.

“Of course. I just don’t like seeing you cry.”

“Aww, that’s kind of sweet.”

“You look so weird when you do,” he says with a smirk, and she rolls her eyes at the mock insult. “No one should have to see that.”

“Fuck off, Jules.”

“Yep. Now let’s go make sure our kids are still alive and haven’t eaten any couches. Is that a thing with human children too?”

january

It’s a good Christmas.

It’s a Christmas where Amy can allow herself some time to relax and unwind, put her worries aside and focus on her family during the ten days both her and Jake manage to garner off work. It’s a long-awaited and dearly welcomed break from early daycare drop-offs, ten-minute-dinners, and infinite planning to make sure nothing is forgotten.

Instead there is time for slow wakeups, snuggling with Leah when she crawls into their bed in the early hours of the morning and giving in to her request of watching iPad in their bed only so they can keep their eyes closed for a little while longer. There's time for late-night conversations over a glass of wine that don't feel rushed because at least they don't have somewhere to be tomorrow, and there's time to properly see friends outside of work for the first time in what feels like forever. They go to dinner at Terry’s house, watch Rosa enjoy the indoor trampoline park even more than Leah does, and they gratefully accept Charles’ offer to babysit their daughter for a night. Amy figures the man has a specific motive in mind, but then Jake suggests they spend the night at a hotel and Leah gets ecstatic at the mention of watching Disney movies with her uncle Charles and Nikolaj, so she ends up saying yes. She’s only human, after all, and she’s not going to neglect the rare and precious chance of a sleep-in.

(The date also times mysteriously well with when she should be ovulating.)

(She does not want to ask.)

Even the yearly Christmas dinner with the Santiagos ends up being survivable. Although there are kids crying, odd snarky comments between Tony and Simon, and Leah outright refuses to wear anything but her sequined dinosaur shirt and glittery tights to the event, things proceed smoothly and Amy’s stress levels remain on the healthier part of the scale. She watches Jake hold and make funny faces at Milo and can feel her mom giving them meaning looks from across the room, but she breathes through it and silently thanks the Universe when Leah chooses that exact moment to climb onto Amy’s lap and ask if they can read one of her new books. Sure, part of her wishes she could be gifting her husband a crafted announcement with a baby onesie and a positive pregnancy test much like the ones she’s pinned on Pinterest, but the tender way he hugs her thank you after he opens his gift and sees the photo book filled with pictures with him and Leah, is more than enough to ease her sorrow. He gifts her a gold necklace with the letters J and L in separate miniature hearts, and when he tells her it’s so she can always be keeping them next to her own heart, she tears up and kisses him so long and ardently that he looks a little dazed, blinking with surprise when they part.

It’s a good New Year’s Eve, too. They spend the first part of the evening at the Holt-Cozner New Year’s Party, listening to their daughter proudly tell every guest she’s going to stay up until midnight, and then they try not to laugh when she passes out the moment she’s in her car seat at half-past nine. Jake and Amy end their year in pajamas on the couch, toasting in champagne just for the sake of it and going right to bed afterward.

Next year we’ll have another baby, she thinks to herself before falling asleep about fifteen minutes into the new year, a new sense of shimmering optimism lingering with her. It has to have worked by then.

January is hell. Everyone knows it, specifically, everyone who’s had children at daycare, because January means no one is healthy and neither Jake nor Amy manage a full week at work without taking time off to care for a sick child or themselves. Amy prays they’ll make it through without any cases of stomach flu, but such seems to have been too much to ask, because she’s woken up by devastating crying from Leah’s room on the one night Jake’s doing a night shift and she knows before the two-year-old’s even started retching.

She doesn’t get any sleep that night.

She doesn’t get any sleep the next night either, because when Leah stops throwing up and Amy feels like she can breathe again when the child keeps some applesauce down and asks if she can watch Doc McStuffins, it only takes three hours before Jake starts complaining about feeling sick.

January must surely be some twisted sort of a joke, she thinks, and disinfects her hands an extra time before she goes to remind her very miserable husband that he’s not actually dying.

It’s only natural, amid the virus-filled havoc, that it takes her a few days to realize she hasn’t gotten her period.

Come to think of it, she is feeling a bit nauseous. The excessive fatigue and emotional imbalance she knows were early symptoms in her first pregnancy is harder to distinguish from the exhaustion after two intense days of caring for poorly family members, but she’s a mom and a Santiago and she categorically never gets sick.

She gives the nausea a day, waiting for it to break out into the same flu Jake and Leah are already victims of, but it doesn’t. It stays the same.

Amy’s never been so excited about nausea in her life.

She waits until Leah’s gone to bed, falling asleep in Amy’s arms on the couch. The two-year-old’s still not quite her energetic, bubbly self and has been stuck to her parents like a needy band-aid for most of the day, and it could have been tiring if it hadn’t also meant lots of cuddles. Right now, though, Amy's arms and back are happy to get a break from carrying the kid around while she lays down next to Jake instead, spooning him and receiving a grateful smile when she starts playing with his hair.

“How are you feeling, babe?”

“Dying. I think I might be dead already,” he groans before turning his head and looking her in the eyes with feigned seriousness. “Please say something nice at my funeral and promise me you'll take care of Charles when I'm gone.”

“You're not dying, Jake.”

“How d’you know?”

“Because you haven't thrown up since last night and you only have a slight fever,” she reminds him, feeling his lukewarm forehead. “You're fine.”

“I am definitely much better with a hot girl draped on top of me,” he says with a smug expression, his hand gently stroking under her old NYPD shirt up her back. She rolls her eyes, because looks haven't exactly been the top priority for the last three days and she's not sure when she last washed her hair, yet Jake never stops making an effort to charm her. “How are you feeling, Ames?”

“Actually, I've been kind of nauseous all day. But I'm not sure it's stomach flu.”

“Huh? What else would it be?”

“I'm thinking,” she presses her index finger to his chest, “maybe I should take a pregnancy test.”

“Oh.” He squints at her. “Why?”

Amy gives him an exasperated look.

“Okay, yeah. But you’ve also spent the last three days taking care of your sick family. Leah was throwing up on us. Are you sure you're not just ill?”

“I have a good feeling,” she insists, because she does - there's a renewed sense of hope and blind faith that perhaps this could be it, resting with her. “And I never get sick.”

“Once again, your daughter was vomiting on you and I'm still convinced I might be dying. This is a brutal virus, Ames.”

“Clearly.” She runs her fingers through his messier-than-usual curls again, and his mouth shapes into a content smile despite his still worried eyes. “I’m still going to take that test, though. In case.”

“In case,” he repeats slowly. “Well, it’s your body.”

“Exactly.” She kisses his forehead. “You get it. I’ll be right back.”

Amy takes these tests with ease now. She’s been doing them two, three times extra following every first negative in a desperate hope for the result to change. False negatives are common, test results are safer the longer after a missed period they’re taken, and there’s no reason not to test an extra time. Long story short, she's becoming a pro at taking pregnancy tests, but so far the single lines and minus signs are staying the same.

She says a silent prayer this one will be an exception.

Plastic cap off, pee for five seconds, plastic cap back on, lay the test flat and wait while trying not to freak out. She manages all steps but the final.

She carries the little plastic stick out to the living room coffee table gently as if it had been made of glass.

“Three minutes,” she informs Jake, and he nods while she sets a timer on her phone. In three minutes, they'll know whether her good feeling is right or dead wrong, and the nausea increases but this time Amy thinks it's nerves.

She doesn't want to stare, but she does anyway, waiting for a second line to appear no matter how faint. Jake sits up next to her, taking her hand and rubbing his thumb over her knuckles, and she manages a weak smile without lifting her eyes from the test.

The timer goes off without a second line appearing.

Amy lifts the test to inspect it closer, but there's not even a hint of anything. She gives it to Jake for a second opinion, and he inspects it just as closely before shaking his head and mumbling a quiet sorry, babe.

She's not pregnant this month either.

“It’s okay, Ames. Three months is nothing.”

She doesn’t realize there are tears in her eyes until they’re trailing down her cheeks and Jake’s hand is there, wiping them away. She presses on his wrist to move it, make him stop because she’s not okay and she doesn’t want him pressuring her to feel anything but the searing disappointment coursing through her veins.

“It’s not,” she says, shaking her head. “I just feel so stupid. I thought I was feeling something.”

“You’re not stupid,” he tells her, and the tenderness in his voice erases her annoyance. “You want this really bad. I do, too, but… well, it’s not my body.”

“Not your body being a massive failure.”

“Hey!” Jake holds up one hand like he’s making a stop motion. “No one talks that way about my wife!”

“Ha-ha.”

“I’m serious! You don’t get to say those things, okay? You know it’s not true.” She hums a doubting sound, and he sighs, placing his arm around her shoulders. “Ames, we’ll just try again. We already did a great job once, and there are moments I wish we hadn’t, because if we didn’t have a toddler in daycare I would be so much healthier… okay, I still don’t regret it,” he adds. “Except maybe the daycare part, because I swear I’m sick all the time.”

“You love our daycare! Without it, you’d never get to eat that Scientology-guy’s chocolate chip cookies at every parent meeting.”

“Fair point. Craig, right? Weirdly good baker. Fine - I guess I don’t regret the daycare either. But you’re about to.”

This time, she’s the one squinting at him in confusion. “What do you mean?”

“Still feeling nauseous?”

“Kind of, why are you… oh, no.”

“Oh, yes. Your immune system isn’t undefeatable!”

“It’s still better than yours,” she counters, and Jake just grins.

“But not undefeatable.”

She gives him a slow nod, trying to hide the despondency on her face as she takes the negative test from his hands.

“I’m just going to throw this away.”

Amy is certain of it when she wakes up three hours later, almost throwing herself out of bed to make it to the bathroom in time - January is officially and unquestionably hell.

#my writing #b99 #brooklyn 99 #brooklyn nine-nine #peraltiago #jake x amy #b99 fic #brooklyn 99 fic #brooklyn nine-nine fic #b99 fanfiction #brooklyn nine-nine fanfiction #jake x amy fic #jake x amy fanfiction #peraltiago fic #peraltiago fanfiction #sorry for being so rude about january don't take it personally if you love january #it's just.. everyone's sick

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