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calibancangetit · 4 years

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The Final Witch’s Quarry (Prologue)

Chapter: The Foretellings of sinners

Pairing: Prince Caliban x Reader

Summary: A prophecy of Earth’s final witch will lead Sabrina and Ambrose to the only person who could help them stop Caliban.

Notes: so this is just a fun little fic I wanted to try out, but I’ll also be doing requests on the side. If you want a quick one shot to read, don’t be afraid to ask. Let me know if you liked this! Just to be clear the character is fairly young maybe around 20. The final witch does not mean the last witch ever created. She just the final powerful witch. Just putting that out there.

Part 1

The pure disdain Sabrina began to feel stemmed its way into the deepest crevices of her heart as she began formulating a plan - any plan! This hatred was aimed towards a certain unruly, narcissistic, asshole known as Caliban, but it was an even bigger hatred towards herself. Nick volunteered himself to be tortured by the worst evil known to this world to avoid Sabrina’s predestined throne, and there she was accepting it.

Sabrina draped her body over the nearest seat in her bedroom, which so happened to be aimed at a distance in front her full length mirror. Her heart ached at her reflection just as it ached for Nick to be okay. The truth is she had a longing for someone besides Nick. She missed herself. She missed being Sabrina Spellman not Sabrina Morningstar. She recalled the countless times she stared into that mirror as she smiled at the outfit she happened to put together that day. There was an innocence Sabrina had lost since she turned sixteen. It was an innocence she desperately missed. Now, she could feel her heart blacken. She could never admit it to anyone but herself; however, Sabrina adores being Queen of Hell. The power is insatiable, and it makes her hate herself even more.

The sound of Sabrina’s door bursting open made her jump. She gasped at the sudden intrusion but recovered after seeing her darling cousin Ambrose in the doorway. He was puffing breathlessly as he tried to speak.

“Cousin! I-I worked and I- it took me forever, but I can’t believe I- I just.” He panted as he grasped onto the book he was holding.

Sabrina became more and more confused as she tried to make out the utter nonsense seeping out of Ambrose’s mouth. She stood up from her seat and ran up to him as she rubbed his back, trying to appease his wheezing.

“Ambrose,” she lifted his face so he was staring right at her, “what’s the matter with you? What happened?”

He caught his breath, and Sabrina noticed a sparkle in his eye. He had a plan! Her aunties and cousin had learned about Sabrina’s new but tentative occupation as Hell’s new evil overseer, and they had been trying to form a plan on defeating Caliban’s contest for the crown with no luck until now.

“I did some digging.” He pushed past Sabrina, and laid his book on her bed as she followed. “I think I found someone who could save us from all our problems.”

He pointed at a photo within his book that was terrifying as was intriguing. A chilling drawing of a hooded figure with skeletal arms and claws like daggers lay before the young queen. She shuddered but frowned at the words scrawled above the drawing in black scratchy font.

The Final Witch

“Well, that certainly isn’t ominous.” she eyed Ambrose skeptically, but he only chuckled at her cluelessness.

“The final witch is an old prophecy of the most powerful witch to ever be seen-” he was cut off by a very impatient Sabrina.

“Why is that? Is she even more powerful than The dark lord’s daughter?”

He smiled and nodded, “She is the most powerful. Her power is made of heaven and hell.”

—

Her origins are unknown

“Wake up! Please wake up!”

They say she will have an overwhelming hatred for the dark lord, but no one will know why.

“You promised me they wouldn’t get her!”

“My dear, I make deals not promises,”

I’m sure it isn’t that hard to figure out.

Sabrina shh! Do you want to hear the story or not?

Sorry, sorry!

It’s said that her anger for the dark lord would allow her to communicate with the false god.

“C-can you help me?”

“Hold my hand,”

H-how do we find her?

Did I ever tell you of my trip to New Orleans?

—

You came to Brooklyn with the hope of peace. You found that in your small brownstone shop. It was one of the only places you found true happiness. Normally mornings went by a lot quieter, but a certain two winged weirdo was not letting that happen.

“Come on! Sage, darling, please drop it,” you begged.

Your beautiful owl seemed to mock you as she danced around with the small mouse trapped in her mouth. However, Sage got too distracted with dancing around and she dropped the poor vermin. You frowned as it ran out of your little shop, making two customers almost trip trying to overstep it. Sage let out a low whistle alerting you to be cautious around the new comers. You cleared your throat and walked around the counter hold an assortment of potted plants with a nervous chuckle.

“Sorry about that, we are having a bit of a rodent problem,? You apologized quickly as you eyed Sage.

You saw Sage’s eyes glare at the visitors. She let out another low whistle and flew to the other side of the shop.

Sabrina and Ambrose grimaced at the quaint plant shop. How could the most powerful witch in the world sell plants?

“Ah, yes,” Ambrose began closing in on the young woman, “I am in need of a certain plant. I believe it goes by the name of La Fluer du Mal.”

Your breath hitched at the name, but you showed no other expression that showed you knew exactly what the man was speaking of.

“Um, could you say that in English,” you asked feigning innocence.

“The flower of evil,” Sabrina spoke up, "you know, the only flower that grows in Hell.”

You eyed the girl as she gave an all too sweet smile. It took you a moment, but it clicked. Sage wasn’t warning you of trivial robbers or thieves; she could smell a witch a mile away. Probably another group of amateur witches needing some special ingredient to a little spell, but what spell uses that flower.

“Hell,” you chuckled, “sure should I bring you a vampire while I’m at it?”

You made a move for a small notebook from under the counter and began your daily sketches.

“Look I only sell what you see on the counters. Depending on what you want, I’ll order it in for you. However, unless Hell has an eBay account, you outta try something else.” You say not lifting your eyes off your paper.

The two looked really frustrated with your lack of compliance, but you could tell a plan was brewing in that blonde little head. She stepped closer to you and leaned against the counter you were drawing on. She had a sly smirk as she watched you draw.

“That’s beautiful,” she said as your hand continued sketching out a beautiful owl overlooking a beautiful landscape.

You nodded at the compliment and uttered a quiet ‘thank you’.

“Do you take requests? I’ll pay!” Sabrina asked.

You sighed and pinched the bridge of your nose. “Fine, I might as well make some money off of you, but nothing too complicated.” You muttered as you flipped to a different page.

Sabrina nodded excitedly as she reached into Ambrose’s backpack and pulled out a book. She hoped this would work. Quickly she slammed the book down on a certain page. She pointed to the black figure from earlier and smiled. It was upside down, but you recognized that insulting drawing.

“This should be easy enough.”

Your nose flared at the stupid illustration in front of you. They were not here for a fucking flower; they were here for you.

“Sure,” you muttered spinning the book to face you. You began outlining the figure quietly as Sabrina stared expectantly at you.

“This is a prophecy, you know.” You hummed as you pressed the pencil harder against the paper, “There was this witch who struck a deal it seems. She obviously didn’t get what she wanted.”

You paid no mind to the girl’s voice. You knew what she was doing.

“I can’t figure out why she would stupidly make a deal with the devil. Then, she has the nerve to get mad after! Can you believe that! How is it the devil’s fault? I mean she asked and he delivered am I right?”

“Sabrina,” Ambrose warned.

Sabrina knew she was playing with fire, but she needed this girl to cut the crap already.

“I bet people got hurt because of it. You don’t make a deal with the devil and come out unscathed.”

The grip on your pencil was tightening as you tried to keep your cool. She had no idea what happened to you. You felt this Sabrina girl move her face closer to yours as she whispered.

“So, who the fuck did you hurt?”

Your face faltered into a frown as you slammed both your hands on the counter. You smirked at the fear in their eyes as they jumped up. You licked your lips as you released a small sigh.

“It isn’t wise to piss me off. Especially since you have no fucking clue what you are spouting on about.” You tore the drawing out of your notebook and slid it at Sabrina harshly.

“That’ll be twenty bucks please,”

Sabrina mumbles to herself as she dug in her pockets for a twenty. You pushed the notebook under the counter and grabbed a watering can.

“What can I do for you, witches?”

“We need your help,” Ambrose explained.

You rolled your eyes and began tending to the plants around the store as they tailed you.

“Hell is in trouble, and we need you to help us restore the power.” Sabrina butted in.

“Uh uh, I was talking to him. You don’t get to talk.” You waved your hand and put a silencing spell on Sabrina, forcing her lips shut. “You’ve clearly done enough talking for today.”

A muffled scream came from Sabrina as she clamped a hand over her mouth.

“Anyways, why would I ever help Lucifer fix up his turf?” You asked nonchalantly lifting a cute succulent you were trying to revive.

Sabrina pulled the small plant from your hands and locked eyes with you. You watched as your seemingly unbreakable spell slowly dissipated from her lips in shock.

“H-How-“

“I’m Sabrina Morningstar my powers come from my father, who I am told you despise. I need you to help me continue to keep the throne from him and all others like him. Trust me when I say this is bigger than me and you,” she reasoned.

Sabrina watched as red hot anger seeped into your eyes. Your jaw clenched at the realization that Lucifer’s daughter stood right before you.

“Your father took everything from me! I could kill you right now and still receive the revenge I’ve been craving,” you seethed as you got right in her face.

Ambrose pulled Sabrina behind him as he tried to calm the situation. “Please, this situation is worse than your anger,”

You scoffed, “Do you want to bet on that?”

Ambrose winced at the girl’s outburst. “We’ll do anything to help you get your revenge on Lucifer besides hurt Sabrina,”

“You come into my shop, spout utter nonsense, disrespect me and my past, and bring a fucking Morningstar before me then expect me to help you?”

They nodded shyly at your words. You chuckled at their desperation. Your body wanted to tear both of them apart, but your mind was in complete shock when you realized Lucifer no longer held Hell’s throne. His own daughter was ensuring it; this was hysterical.

Take the offer

It was a quick instruction from deep within your mind. If you weren’t constantly paying attention, you would have missed it. It was remarkable! That was not just an order from the dark lord or the false god you were hearing inside your head. You had clear mind links with both, and you knew both of their voices very well. However, the was the first time you received the same command from both.

Take the offer and restore the balance

You pondered their words. They could only hear what you directly told them. Your thoughts were your own.

Oh, you would take this offer. You would take it along with everything Lucifer cares about.

“I’ll help you,”

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

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haikyall · 3 years

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time and time again

Summary: Soulmates will always find each other in the end no matter how longe they've been apart, but Bokuto and Akaashi don't know that. Heck, they each don't know the other person even existed. WC: 3k Genre: Fluff Pairings: Bokuto Koutarou/Akaashi Keiji

This is my entry to the bokuaka big bang!

Kuroo opens the door for Bokuto and Daichi as they enter unfamiliar territory. Their curious eyes scan through the place, embracing the peaceful ambiance. It was busier than most cafès; this cafè, in particular, was very noisy. Bokuto, on the other hand, felt a sense of familiarity about the place, yet he has never set foot in this cafè.

Kuroo spots a booth with empty seats and leads the trio to sit there. He also offers to do the ordering given the fact that he was the only one who knew how to do so, as it was evident that their way of ordering differed from usual cafès.

Bokuto sits down and can’t seem to sit comfortably on the cushioned seats. It was like something was bugging him, something just really kept on poking Bokuto’s brain to just keep looking for something, although he didn’t know what exactly he’s looking for.

To Daichi, this mannerism of Bokuto's is quite a normal sighting, especially when he enters a new shop. To him, Bokuto is taking in the new place by trying to remember every single little detail it has like how the table and seats are very low, or how there were high stools that show the contrast. He also notices how Bokuto’s leg keeps on bouncing. He assumes that the owl is anticipating his order or is just excited.

“Excited, Bokuto?” Daichi tests his theory, and Bokuto is caught off-guard at the sudden boom of the fellow captain's voice. He had forgotten that he was with other people. This sense of familiarity and restlessness was mentally killing him.

He scratches his head. Maybe it was that, yeah, he’s just excited.

“YEA! HAHAHA~” He laughs out, deciding to brush off the fact that something was indeed bugging him and he can’t seem to point his finger as to what it is. He proceeds to tell Daichi about how a cashier from another café asked him out one time.he was asked out by a cashier when he was in another cafè. “There was this one time, my friends and I were in this other coffee place and the cashier kept on asking, like, these personal questions like ‘are you more of a bacon or egg person and I didn’t UNDERSTAND HER BWAHAHAHAAHAHAHAH~”

“Mhmm?” Daichi hums out, he was interested. He didn’t necessarily understand how it was personal, but he kind of knows how Bokuto feels being asked the question.

“IT WAS THE CASHIER’S WAY OF ASKING IF I WAS STRAIGHT HAHAHAHAHAHA”, Bokuto explains loudly, and Daichi’s brain doesn’t believe it, but Bokuto was genuinely laughing and he’s physically unable to lie. His eyes go wide and he finally starts laughing at how lousy of a conversation he was hearing.

“PFFT HAHAHAHAHAHA,” he laughs till his lungs can’t take the lack of oxygen and deeply inhales, and Daichi slowly realizes how Bokuto lays out the story, “Wait, you didn’t understand?”

“NOPE, MY FRIENDS ONLY TOLD ME WHAT IT MEANT AFTER OUR ORDERS WERE TAKEN,” Bokuto explains, and Daichi nods his head, understanding why Bokuto wouldn’t think it was more of a sexuality question rather than a general preference question.

“So what did you say?”, the crow asks the question.

“Egg, whICH MEANT I WAS STRAIGHT HAHAHAHAHAH,” Bokuto excitedly explains starting to laugh, and Daichi joins with a chuckle as he thinks about the stupidity of the question and how innocent Bokuto could be sometimes, and his chuckling deepens. Kuroo finally comes back with a tray of their orders and sees the two gasping for air in laughter and is interested as to what’s got Daichi laughing.

“Oya, oya, what are we talking about, here?” Kuroo asks, and Bokuto was the first one to regain some sanity,, explaining while laughing,

“I just —heh— told D-Daichi about the —hehe— cashier story,” he explains as Kuroo gives each of them their order and starts to settle down. Meanwhile, Daichi just keeps on laughing and banging the table. It was rare to see Daichi lose his chill like this.

“Ah, the cashier that didn’t know that’s not how you check out a guy and ask if they’re straight, damn, she does not get laid a lot,” Kuroo says, chuckling as he remembers the story, and shakes his head at the obliviousness of both parties in that conversation.

“SHE WORKS IN A CAFÈ, GODDAMMIT HAHAHAHAHA,” Daichi says, and everyone laughs again at the thought of the scene playing in their brains.

The laughter seems to die down as people enter the café. Bokuto turns around as he unconsciously follows the sound of the bell ringing with each movement of the door. He sees an exasperated, lean, and messy, black-haired boy, holding a laptop bag, along with a silver-haired, livelier guy, and a smaller guy with bleached hair with roots starting to grow out. Bokuto feels like he knows the exasperated guy.

Bokuto doesn’t know the guy.

The bugging sensation is back, more intense than ever, and Bokuto is restless again, appearing to look at anything but the new arrivals. He tries to calm himself down, but his eyes stray back to the trio that recently entered the building, and he’s back to being fidgety and restless yet again.

“Boku-dude, you okay, there?” Kuroo asks, clearly disturbed by Bokuto’s hyperactivity. Bokuto recognizes the nickname and realizes that somebody is talking to him, and he finally relaxes, looking at Kuroo as he replies.

“Yea, it’s the coffee in the drink,” Bokuto quickly explains and Kuroo raises an eyebrow, he’s been watching Bokuto the entire time since he sat down and he hasn’t touched his drink yet. Both Daichi and Kuroo know this, and they both let it slide as they see Bokuto might get his emo mode out of schedule and both of them are not in the mood to handle it.

“Told you, you should cut down the sugar, seriously, black coffee for breakfast and then WHITE CHOCO MOCHA FRAP? YOU’RE FUCKING INSANE,” Kuroo continues, not showing that he knew that Bokuto gave the wrong reason for his hyperactivity.

“HAH! JOKES ON YOU, I DIDN’T DRINK BLACK COFFEE THIS MORNING,” Bokuto says, indicating his attention is back on them. Both of them sigh in relief, but Kuroo is impressed, Bokuto isn’t drinking his usual black coffee.

“Oya? Is that so? So what did you drink for breakfast?” The former Nekoma Captain asks, and Bokuto is silent, probably remembering what exactly the owl did drink for breakfast.

“… egg?” Daichi says after a moment of silence, and laughter breaks the momentum of peace, and Kuroo starts scolding Daichi after that bad joke.

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHAH, YOU CAN'T DRINK EGG, YOU DAMNED CROW”

“HAHAHAHAHAHAHA, I HAD TO OKAY?” Daichi explained,

“…. red bull…” Bokuto says quietly and both of the other captains he was with nearly stand from their seats in shock.

“You drank RED BULL FOR BREAKFAST?!?!” Kuroo asks, and Bokuto puts his hands up in defense, ready to explain.

“WE RAN OUT OF COFFEEEEE!”

Daichi facepalms, “Yeah, but Red Bull is worse than coffee.”

Kuroo finally calms down and sighs, “Bokuto, you suddenly have a ticket to go to the mental hospital, signed by me,” he says.

“HEY! I WOULD DRINK RED BULL RATHER THAN…. Eggs,” Bokuto points out, and the three of them start laughing once again.

“BOKUTO, NO— HAHAHAHAHAH”

As Bokuto and his friends continue to bicker, the exasperated man he found himself ever-so-fond of settles his laptop bag under their table while his friends seem to be taking turns going to the counter.

“I haven’t been here at all,” the dark-haired man starts, and it leaves the two men with him bewildered. The man pushes up his glasses to take a look at the menu on the café wall. Alas, the font is too small for him, and he’s far enough that, even with glasses, he can barely make out what the menu is offering.

“It’s not that far from where you work, Akaashi” The blond dude says. He says this without looking up from the little Switch console he brought with him.

“Yeah, work is kinda building up on me so I don’t exactly have the time to go out,”

“Guess, I’m ordering for you,” the silver-haired friend chirps, and Akaashi nods. It turns out to be, this friend over here, might be the most cheerful of the bunch.

“If it’s not coffee, I’m not drinking it,” Akaashi warns, and his silver-haired friend lets out a sigh. He may or may not have a different idea for an order.

“… Darn it,” his cheerful friend says in defeat as he walks away. Akaashi looks for a table and immediately lays his laptop bag on the ground, leaning on one of the legs of the table.

As Akaashi and his blond companion settle down, he gets a notification from his phone. He grabs it in his pocket by instinct and instantaneously looks at what caused the sound. It turns out that there’s a last-minute meeting to be held in 10 minutes by his boss. Akaashi sighs, was a day-off too much to ask?

The gamer boy across Akaashi notices the dismay on his face and asks, “Really? Still working even now?”

Akaashi sighs, “Yeah, not as flexible of a schedule as you, Kenma,”

“Aren’t you on your day off?” Kenma points out as Akaashi chuckles at the observation of the CEO. Maybe it’s because he doesn’t get a lot of those.

“That’s also what I thought till I got the text that my presence suddenly matters,” Akaashi answers and sighs, “you don’t do much though,” he continues.

“Yeah, but then meeting assholes murder you every time for it so I think we’re even,” Kenma says, rolling his eyes at the thought, causing Akaashi to chuckle again at not just the action but because of Kenma’s.. colorful choice of words.

“I agree, then they take all the credit,”

Kenma then pauses his game to massage a budding headache just from thinking about his company’s growth and welfare, “then come crawling back to you when something goes wrong,” Akaashi nods in agreement and comfortable silence fills the air. The silence doesn’t need to dissipate. Akaashi is also aware that both he and the person in front of him are generally quiet people and would prefer silence over the conversation.

Akaashi suddenly feels it. The uneasy air, the stuffiness, the stillness. Akaashi looks around the café to see what exactly is causing the sudden change in atmosphere. He looks over to Kenma and he sees the gamer boy fiddling away with his switch. Akaashi knows it's not from the man across the table.

“This place feels… odd,” Akaashi says, shifting in his seat, trying to sense what exactly is making him uncomfortable. It doesn’t seem to be his seat, no. It’s the atmosphere, it feels stuffy as if something is going on. He turns around to see if someone is staring at him.

No one was giving him a single glance, but his eyes fell upon one person. A man with white hair and black highlights. A guy with his friends, who was probably peeing his pants in laughter as they bantered on. He seemed ecstatic, attractive, like the entire room was watching them, although no one was.

“Is that so?” Kenma says, not feeling a single strand of discomfort. He looks at Akaashi, wondering what’s got the editor so fidgety. Akaashi fidgets around so much that it causes Kenma to look around just in case he could see something that would cause Akaashi to be so unnerved.

“Yeah, I’m not exactly sure why or how, though.”

Kenma, seeing that there is nothing that could make Akaahi want to leave, shrugs. “Maybe it’s cause you haven’t been to this place before.”

Akaashi nods. That’s a good argument, he’s never been comfortable in new places, he always felt like some puppy in a wolf’s territory. “Yeah… maybe.”

“Hey, here’s your drink— Akaashi—,“ the silver-haired boy finally comes back with all the drinks in-hand, and Akaashi takes the drink given to him and starts to get up from his seat.

“Sorry, Sugawara-san, I have an emergency meeting to attend,” Akaashi says, looking at the time, completely forgetting he had a bag on-hand when he first arrived at the store. He was already a few meters away due to him jogging.

“Oh, it’s fine! Take care, though!” Sugawara and Kenma both bid farewell to the rushing editor as they see him brisk-walk farther from the café.

“Isn’t today a day-off for Akaashi?” Sugawara mentions as he takes Akaashi’s seat, settling down.

“That’s what I said, too… his bosses are honestly merciless,” Kenma mentions, shaking his head in slight frustration at the fact that Akaashi simply can’t rest. His eyes then rest on the forgotten laptop bag of Akaashi and his eyes go wide, “Suga-san…,” the gamer boy says, pointing at the bag. Sugawara was taking a sip of his drink when he looked under the table where the object in question remains untouched. The man sipping his drink then nearly spits it out and panics.

“Oh shit, Aka—“

A new voice enters the conversation, “Is it fine with you if I return the bag to him? I can catch up to him; noticing his speed, he would be near the subway station by now,” the pair looks up at the new voice and sees a lean man with black highlights on his white hair. The silver-haired man silently smirks before replying.

“Uhm… yeah, sure I guess,” Sugawara says, knowing Kenma is too shy to rebut and say the stranger might steal the laptop. He hands over the laptop bag and the stranger takes off. Kenma watches the whole scene unfold with both eyes.

“You are stupid.”

“No… I just feel like being cupid. That guy has been staring at Akaashi the entire time he’s been there. He only looked away when the two of you were looking around,” Sugawara says, taking another sip of his coffee.

__________________________________

Bokuto runs as fast as he can, keeping the man he's pursuing in his line of sight. “Hey! Wait!” He screams, but as he’s too far, and Akaashi can't hear him. Bokuto makes it his mission to be faster. He’s a volleyball player anyway, he can get faster, right?

“HEY!!” He tries again after closing some distance, though not much of it. He’s still far and Akaashi heard him this time, but he feels like he wasn’t the person the voice was calling out to, and it would be embarrassing on his part if he turned around, assuming it was him.

“ AGAASHI! ” Bokuto finally reaches Akaashi and suddenly blurts out his name. It freezes both of them because they do not know each other. Bokuto is freaking out internally, what did I just say? He starts to think of some lousy excuse. He scans the laptop bag for a name tag at least and finds nothing. He tries to remember if the stranger’s friends even said his name before he interrupted them. Everything moves in slow motion in his view as he tries to make up for an obvious mistake.

“How do you know my name?” Akaashi turns around, cautiously.

“You forgot this” Bokuto says, and just like that, they are both transported to a temple, and both of them are wearing hakamas, and the laptop bag is non-existent. Bokuto is holding a katana.

Akaashi is shocked. He looks at Bokuto to see if he is just as shocked, but he doesn’t seem fazed at the fact that they were just surrounded by buildings and are now surrounded by mountains and trees, empty streets, and ancient temples.

“What?” Akaashi says, still bewildered at the part about suddenly traveling to some olden time. He looks around to process where on earth they are.

“Your katana, you forgot your katana… W-weren’t you leaving, Agaashi?” Bokuto says, poking at Akaashi’s arm. Akaashi’s attention is back on Bokuto. It was only then that he noticed this man’s features, the jawline, the golden eyes, the bright smile, the radiant personality. He seemed… attractive. “You can’t leave training without your katana, Agaashi~” Bokuto teases with an eyebrow arched.

Akaashi couldn’t help but feel a little tug deep inside him when he saw the taunting look of his new formed friend. So many things are rushing through his head right now, it felt like he’s in a world one of their clients back at work made. The details, the sounds, the feeling was so surreal Akaashi swears this might be some daydream.

Akaashi wanted to ask where they were but Bokuto didn't seem to know what he was talking about and it was like he couldn’t change what his mouth was saying as he says, “Oh, yes… thank you, Bokuto-san,” Akaashi’s eyes go wide as his hand mindlessly reaches to grab the katana by the handle and Bokuto gives a slight smile. He doesn’t know this man.

Suddenly, everything is back to normal; they’re in front of the subway station entrance, the katana has disappeared, and the laptop bag returned; the two men are both back in modern clothes. Bokuto seems to be the first one knocked out of the daze, as it seems that both of them were stuck in some trance. Akaashi sees that he’s already holding the handle of the bag,“Hello? Sir? You forgot your laptop bag… Your friends were supposed to chase you but I figured you’d be too far to reach so I offered to do it instead. I’m sorry, the name just blurted out and I swear I don’t know how—” Bokuto tries to explain but Akaashi cuts him off.

“Did you see it, too?”

“I- I mean, YES, I DID SEE IT. I MEAN, THE VISION? NONONO, IT WAS LIKE SOME—“ Bokuto freaks out as Akaashi takes the bag and smiles softly at him. Bokuto finally calms down and realizes that the man in front of him has a nice smile.

“You can ask for my number from my friends back in the café… and thank you, Bokuto-san, ” He says as he waves away from the volleyball player.

#bokuaka #bokuto koutarou #akaashi keiji #akaashi #bokuto x akaashi #hq #haikyuu!!#haikyuu

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plumblossomkun · 5 years

Text

Dream of December

word count: 1073 (wow Lis managed to write a one shot? unreal)

synopsis: in which Jaemin dreams, and a pale ghost guides him home. something like a premonition; takes place before Harana.

a/n: i didn’t want to start off my little Neotober series with something too spooky! while the legends of the yuki-onna vary in their telling, i took on a softer perspective. the y/n in Harana does not make an appearance here.

Jaemin almost never dreams.

And when he does, his dreams are filled with seas of the neon-green lightsticks of their fans, or of the nights he and the boys have spent in the practice room, dancing till they drop, or the mornings they come into the studio to record for hours on hours. Even in his sleep, he works himself down to the bone.

This time is different.

He marvels at the way his breath passes from his lips in thin clouds, borne upwards by the whispering winter gale lashing against his cheeks. His feet are buried beneath at least three feet of thick snow, but he does not feel the cold. Delighted, he stoops to gather a snowball, packing the frost tightly together in his palms.

He can’t remember the last time they had time to play in the snow, without restrictions, without it being a photoshoot or promotion.

He hurls the snowball towards nothing in particular, whistling in awe as it disappears into the blur of snowflakes covering the owl gray skies. It doesn’t make a sound when it lands.

Suddenly, an echoing voice addresses him. It carries the melodic lilt of a woman, but crackles oddly, like the syllables are lingering too long in the speaker’s throat.

Hello, traveler.

Jaemin scans his surroundings, alarmed. There is nothing but an empty ivory landscape all around him, slight dips of shadow the only indication that the snow has not fallen in an even layer. At the line of the horizon is a colorless blur, which he cannot see past. “Hello?”

Are you lost?

He looks down at his hands. If this was real, they would have been white from lack of bloodflow. He would have been shivering, teeth chattering, head aching.

“I’m not lost. I’m dreaming.”

The disembodied voice sighs, and then he hears footsteps crunching through the snow. They are so soft that in comparison, his own heartbeat is too loud.

And from the nothingness emerges a woman as pale as moonlight. A silken yukata is draped across her body, colorless as the snow beneath his feet, and her alabaster hair drags behind her like the trail of a wedding dress.

If he was asked if she was beautiful, a “yes” would fall from his lips without a doubt, but there is nothing about her features that he can describe, not with words or gestures, save for her eyes. They are violet like the heliotrope flower, a shockingly bright hue against the whiteness of the winter all around him.

You look lost to me.

She stands before him barefoot and smiling, but there is no warmth in her gaze, no sentiment, no emotion. Those things are human, and she is very clearly not. The smile is a courtesy to him.

“This is my dream,” he tells her. It amazes him, that he is not afraid of her, but this is, after all, not real. “Where did you come from?”

When she speaks, her lips do not move, and he realizes he’s been hearing her voice in his head all this time.

A dream, you say?

She tilts her head back to laugh, and even though her lips do not move, the sound crashes upon him like a pelting hail. She reaches out to grasp his right hand in hers, and the contact forms a flower of frost on his palm. He shivers, and suddenly he feels all the snow weighing down upon his shoulders and the winter biting at his lungs.

You seem tired. Is that why you sleep so deeply?

He shudders, but she continues to read the lines of his palm, and her grip is like the hold of a dead man. Her eyes stare intently into his skin, like there’s an answer hidden just below the surface in the pulse running through his veins that only she can see.

Ah, I understand. You are weary.

She releases him, and he stumbles back. Warmth rushes back to his fingertips, but a heavy weight settles in his chest, just above his ribcage, crushing his heart. He gasps and falls to his knees. “What did you do to me?”

Nothing. You have just been ignoring your heart in favor of your brain.

Jaemin gulps for air, rocking back onto his heels. “What do you mean by that?”

The woman in white stares down at him with a frown, the same sort of frown an adult wears when a child asks a truly stupid question.

Do humans still believe that the heart and mind are independent?

He massages his throat.. “No...?”

She crouches before him and studies his expression. Whatever she finds there seems to satisfy her, and suddenly the snowfall ceases, frozen all around them in space. Mesmerized, he touches a snowflake and watches it spin without losing its momentum.

Well, overworking your body will take a toll on your heart.

She stands again, and smiles down at him. This time, it isn’t a formality. She reaches out to touch his shoulder.

You should be selfish once in a while. Choose yourself over others.

At the place where her hand brushes the snow from his jacket, he feels a tug, a line, pulling him out of the dream. Slowly, it reels him into the air and away from the landscape of endless snow, up into a depthless darkness.

Even the things we love can be heavy if we carry them without rest.

Far below him, he sees her begin to walk away, and the falling snow resumes its descent as she departs. But she pauses at the horizon line, electric eyes glancing back at him.

When you meet the girl who is too much winter and not enough spring, tell her the same. The two of you do not belong in this place.

She chuckles, and this time it sounds more like the gentle tinkle of raindrops, though her words send ice rippling down his spine.

Do not come back. I will not guide you back next time, little one.

Jaemin startles awake with a gasp, choking when the seatbelt holds him back from really sitting upright. “Hhhgh--”

Jeno glances over his shoulder at him from the front passenger seat with a snort. “You okay, dude?”

Beside him, Renjun takes out one of his earbuds with a roll of his eyes. “He was having a nightmare.”

“I was?”

“Yeah. Thank Jeno for that. He’s been playing Christmas music the whole time.”

“Wait, why Christmas music? It’s not even Halloween yet. Chuseok hasn’t even passed.”

“It was an accident! I chose the wrong playlist.”

“Right...”

“Are we there yet?”

“Almost.”

“No more Christmas music, okay?”

“No promises.”

edited 10/25: fancy font removed and made default because it came to my attention that it wasn’t showing up aaaaaa

#cznnet #neotober #na jaemin #jaemin fic #nothing much #just incentive for me to write write write

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rizlowwritessortof · 7 years

Text

Friendly Advice

I wrote this for @deansdirtylittlesecretsblog Mimi’s RomCom Fluff Challenge, and it was a lot of fun - thanks, Mimi! My fluff got a little smudged into smutty fun, but that happens, right? :D Also, thank you @mamapeterson for reading over this for me and being the lovely bundle of encouraging warm fuzzies that you are <3

This is written in two POVs - Dean’s thoughts are in italics, and the reader’s are in regular font. I hope you enjoy! <3

Dean x Reader, a little over 3300 words, fluff and smut and hopefully happiness all round!

“Dean?”

I look up, and she's standing there in the doorway. She's in her pajamas, and it should be the farthest thing from sexy. I mean, she's got little owls all over her pants, wearing a worn-out old t-shirt that she stole from my laundry one time. But her eyes are all soft and shy, her hair's curling loose over her shoulders, and I have to force my eyes away. “Hey, kiddo. What's up?”

She takes a deep breath, like she's gonna say something, then stops and turns to leave. “Never mind. I don't want to bother you.”

“Hey.” She turns back, and I smile at her. I don't want her to go. “You're not bothering me. Does it look like I'm doing anything important? Get your ass in here.” She bites at her lip a little, GOD that gets me... and then smiles back and comes in. I pat the mattress beside me. “Sit down, tell me what's on your mind.”

I scoot over to the middle of the bed to give her some room, prop myself against the headboard. She sits down and turns to face me, folding her legs and resting her arms on her knees. I can't read the look on her face, but I can tell she's nervous about something. “It's okay, sweetheart. Whatever it is, I'll help if I can.”

~~~~~

He's looking at me with those big green eyes of his, and I feel like I always do – that he can see right through me, read my thoughts or something, like he's looking right into my soul. I don't know if I can do this. But I have to, because if I chicken out this time, I might never get the courage to try again.

“Dean... I was hoping you could give me some advice.”

He laughs. “Advice? Me?”

“About men. Well, about a man.”

His smile fades just a bit. “Well, I am one of those.” He frowns slightly. “Somebody I need to beat up? Or kill?”

I laugh, just a soft little huff, and he relaxes a little. “No! No, there's just this guy. I see him pretty often, and I've spent some time with him, just friendly, at the bar and stuff.”

“Do I know him?”

Oops. I shrug a little, avoid the question. “My problem is... I like him. I mean, I really like him. But he seems to just think of me as a friend. Or a sister. Or maybe just a person, I don't know. It's really hard to tell.”

He's listening, like really listening, and his tongue darts out over his lips, making my brain short out completely for a couple of seconds. He's still waiting for me to go on, so I force more words out, hoping they make some kind of sense.

“This is really embarrassing. I don't know how to say...” I look up into his eyes, taking a deep breath, and think brave thoughts. “I need to know how to make him see me. You know, as a woman. How to catch his attention. Because I really need to know if there's any chance at all that we could have something.”

~~~~~

What, is she kidding? Is this guy blind AND stupid? “Sweetheart, if he doesn't see you, then he either needs his eyes checked or he's playing a different ball game.”

She blushes a little as she smiles. “No, that's not the problem. I just don't think he's ever thought of me like... like I want him to think of me. You know?” She puts her hand on my knee, this pleading look in her eyes. “Can you give me some tips? I mean, what catches your eye when you're attracted to a woman?”

Shit. I reach up and rub my hand over the back of my neck, my brain is scrambling for words. I hold my breath and then blow it out, closing my eyes for a second. Some asshole has her all fired up and he doesn't have the brains to see what's right in front of him. Probably not good enough for her, but I guess that's not my call.

“Well... the first thing that catches my attention is somebody who's just being themselves. Not putting on a performance, you know? Like those bimbos that come into the bar and act like they own the place and every man in there should be flattered to have them attached to their arm. Like a fucking leech. I like a woman who's comfortable with herself, can just have a conversation about whatever. Doesn't take herself and every little thing too seriously. Not catty, making mean comments about every other female in sight.”

“Okay, so not acting like a bitch, and just being themselves.”

“Yeah. That.”

“Okay, but I already do that. It's not helping.”

“So you want to turn up the heat a little.”

She nods her head, looking up at me with big, trusting eyes, nibbling at that lip again, and I wanna take over that job so bad I can taste it. “Well, anything you can do to draw attention to your mouth is good.” I clear my throat a little, because let's face it, she's making me sweat. “Like biting at your lip, the way you do when you're nervous, or when you're on the laptop trying to figure something out, or like – like you're doing right now. That's – uh – that's hot.”

~~~~~

Oh my god, is this actually working? I watch him as I moisten my lips with my tongue, and he definitely squirms a little. “So… how about touching? Do guys like it when we touch them, like a hand on their arm or their knee or whatever when we talk?” I put my hand on his knee and squeeze lightly, then let my fingers just trace a little design on his thigh, and his face just – stutters. His lips are parted, I can see his tongue pressed up behind his top teeth and his eyelids flutter a little.

“Sure, yeah, that’s good,” he says, his voice taut. He clears his throat again.

I pull my hand back and smile. “Good! I just didn’t want to come off too – pushy, you know?” I look thoughtful for a second, then pull my hair up into a loose pile on top of my head, incidentally pulling my shirt tight across my chest and baring my belly a bit for good measure. “So, hair up? Or down?”

~~~~~

Okay, you’ve gotta be fucking kidding me. I can’t take much more of this. I force my eyes away from that faded, thin t-shirt that’s doing nothing to hide her nipples. “Down. Definitely down.”

“Okay.” She lets it drop back down around her shoulders, and I try to breathe. “What should I wear?”

Sweetheart, what you’ve got on right now works for me. Ahem. Yeah. “You look great whenever we go out, Y/N.”

“Yeah, but should I kick it up a notch? Make him notice me? Like a low-cut top, or a short skirt?”

Fucking hell. “You know what, sweetheart? You do what you want, but let me tell you something. If you have to go to all that trouble, if you can’t just be who you are… If he doesn’t really see you without all that, then he doesn’t deserve you.”

~~~~~

Jackpot. “Really? You think so?”

Wow, he’s dead serious, looking right into my eyes right now. “I know so.”

“So… if all this,” I say, motioning with my hand, “shouldn’t be necessary, then how do I know? How do I find out if there really could be something between us?”

Oh, boy… now he’s not looking at me at all, his jaw is clenched, and he’s the one biting his lip. It takes him a minute to answer. “Maybe you just need to tell him how you feel. Maybe he’s just one of those guys that needs things spelled out for them.”

You can’t help smiling a little. “You know, he’s sexy as hell, and completely adorable, but he is a little slow about some things.”

He shoots me his ‘I’m not surprised’ eye roll with a half-cocked smirk, and I smile even bigger. “What?” he asks, completely clueless.

“Dean, I have to tell you something.” He looks back at me, waiting. Not. A. Clue. So I move closer, crawl over his lap, straddling his thighs, watching the truth dawn in his eyes.

“No way.”

~~~~~

There is no way in this fucking world that this is happening right now. But she’s nodding her head, looking at me like… like I’m what she wants.

“Yes. You, Dean. I just didn’t think you could ever feel the same way, so I’ve never told you. But I couldn’t go on the way we are without knowing.”

Her eyes are sparkling a little with tears, and god, it feels like she’s squeezing my heart in her hands right now. “Sweetheart, you don’t want this – me. I’m not… you deserve...” I can’t even finish a damn sentence, she caught me so off guard.

She just looks at me, those tears shimmering in her eyes, and I can tell she’s getting herself under control. “You can tell me that you don’t feel the same way, Dean. You can say you haven’t thought about me the same way I’ve thought about you, that you just don’t feel that way about me. I’m a big girl, I can take it. I’ll live through it, and I’ll move on with my life.” She takes a deep breath, a little shaky, and when her eyes connect with mine again, I can see she’s pissed off. “But if you ruin what could be the best thing that ever happened to me, to us, because of that ‘I’m not worthy’ bullshit, I swear to God, I will kick your self-deprecating ass.”

Self-deprecating? Holy shit, she is pissed. Kinda looks like an enraged kitten, with her little owl pajamas and her eyebrows all frowning at me – she’s cute as hell. I can feel my smile, I can’t stop it, but she doesn’t stop glaring at me. “Don’t go all ‘college girl’ on me, now. I mean, do you always start throwing big words out at people when you get pissed off?”

“Don’t make fun of me, Dean,” she warns, and my smile just gets bigger.

“I’m not, sweetheart, I promise. You just look so – damn – cute.” OOOOOFH. “Ow!” That fucking hurt, right in the ribs.

~~~~~

“You are such an asshole!” I knew this was a bad idea, I just knew it. I’m getting the hell out of here and if he’s lucky I might be talking to him by the next hunt. I move, intending to leave in a furious huff, but suddenly his arm is around my waist and he still has that stupid grin on his face.

“Where do you think you’re going? We’re in the middle of something here.”

“We’re gonna be in the middle of you bleeding all over yourself if you don’t let me go!” I gear back, ready to punch him right in the face, and he somehow gets my arms all captured under his and I can’t fucking move. “Dean! Let go of me, now!”

And then he does it. He just gathers me in and then his lips are on mine, and I'm done. I thought I could handle rejection, which I probably couldn't – but this... GOD he's kissing me, his lips are so warm and soft and he's like nibbling at me and his tongue sweeps across my bottom lip and then suddenly I'm tasting him oh god and jesus and all the saints somebody help me because I'm fucking melting from the inside out and I'll never survive this...

His arms are so solid and strong, and he pulls me closer, and I can feel him, hard and hot and LARGE against me, and shit I'm so wet he can probably feel it already. My body is betraying me, I can't stop the whimper that escapes into our kiss, and he finally lifts his head a little so we can both take a breath. He loosens his grip on me and brings his hand up to my face, his thumb grazing over my cheekbone, and the green of his eyes is dark and intense. “If you still want me to let you go, I will... but I don't want to,” he says, his voice soft and deep, and the air catches in my throat for a moment. “Do you know how I felt when I thought you were talking about wanting some brainless lowlife? I wanted to punch the fictional asshat in his fictional face, partly for not wanting you and partly for wanting you after you told him how you felt. Fucking hell, Y/N! But this... us? I can't even wrap my head around it.”

“Neither can I, Dean. But it's all I've been able to think about. You're the only one I want.” This time I lean in and kiss him, let my arms go around his neck, press my body against his chest as I nip at his full bottom lip. He groans and tangles his fingers in my hair, pulling me closer, tilting his head to deepen our kiss. His other hand is slipping underneath my shirt, caressing my back, and then moving forward to squeeze gently at my breast.

~~~~~

Mmmmm….. I want to gather her up and hold her, all of her, I mean - I need more hands right now. I need to touch everything all at once and still be able to watch her face, and tangle my hands up in her hair and smell her and shit if she moves like that one more time I might not make it to the finale.

Her skin is like warm silk, and I need to feel it against me. I pull the hem of her shirt up, slow, just in case… But she pulls back from me and rips it over her head herself, then reaches for mine. She’s gonna have to wait juuuuust a minute or two because that nipple right there, I’ve gotta taste it. Oh, and I want more of those little noises from her while we’re at it. Just let go, baby girl, show me what you like. When I give a hard little suck and rub my tongue over that sweet little nub, she moans all throaty and warm, so damn sexy I can feel my cock jump.

I sit back up and let her take my shirt off, and then… heaven. She just leans into me and kisses me like she’s fucking starving for me, and God knows I’m craving her more than I’ve ever wanted anything in my life. Like, I can’t wait to be inside her, even though there are so many more things I want. But right now, I need it like I need to breathe.

I hold her close and move, easing her to her back. I slip my fingers into the top of her pants and work them down, my mouth on every inch of skin I can manage until I pull them off and drop them to the floor. I can’t pull my eyes from her as I shove my pants down and get rid of them, then crawl back up between her thighs.

~~~~~

Somebody help me, he’s completely naked, golden and freckled and I just want him to stand there while I memorize every damn swell and dip and scar and bulge and JESUS I cannot believe that is going to be inside of me…

But then there he is, I can feel him all hot and smooth and insistent against my thigh, and I want it so bad that I don’t care about anything else right now. Ooommmmgggg, his fingers just pushed inside me and he’s moving and rubbing and his thumb is making hard little circles on my clit and I just might scream now jesus god fuckfuckfuck “DEEEAAANNN!!!!”

~~~~~

Damn, that was hot… I move up and leave kisses all over that dewy skin, nuzzle up next to her ear and tell her how sexy and sweet she is, how bad I want her. She turns her face towards me and I kiss her, and back her down real slow and gentle. When she starts reaching for me again, grabbing onto my arms and kissing me back like her engine’s revvin’ back up, I can’t wait any more. I move just enough for my cock to push against her, just a nudge, but she moans and lifts her hips, and I know she’s ready.

I start pushing in, real slow, and she wraps her legs around me and – holy shit, she’s strong. She’s squeezing those thighs, flexing her calves to pull me into her faster, and I ain’t arguing. I stare down into her eyes when I bottom out, sunk deep inside her where it’s hot and tight and smooth, and she looks like she wants to eat me alive. Fuck, I’d let her right now. I’d let her do just about anything she wanted.

~~~~~

“Dean… Please...” I can barely even form words right now, I’ve never felt so complete and yet so fucking on edge in my life. I swear if he was any bigger he’d be wedged up against my tonsils. Oh. My. God. “Please..”

“What do you need, baby?” he asks me, and his voice is just as wrecked as mine. “Tell me, I’ll do it.”

“Move. Please, move…” As soon as I say it, he does it, and “Ahhhhhggggghhh...”

~~~~~

She wants me to move, and I’ve never wanted anything so bad. I’m taking it slow, but that slick drag, the way her body’s trying to hold me tight inside while I pull back, shit – this isn’t gonna take long if I don’t get a grip. I think she’s ready to go again, I can feel her just pulsing around my cock, and her head’s thrown back, her body’s all arched up underneath me… I can’t take it, and I just let go. It feels too good, short hard thrusts, our bodies crashing together, I’m gonna lose my fucking mind and I don’t even care. I reach for her, pull her up against me while I gear back on my knees, and she’s soft and smooth against me, her nails digging little divots into my back.

I’m. Gonna. Fucking. Explode. I’m pounding into her as hard as I can, and just when I think I can’t do it any longer she’s shaking and then she just shouts, cussing and my name and some shit I don’t even know what, and her pussy’s clenching around me, I can feel her practically gushing and then… ShitFuckBabyFUCK I’m coming like I haven’t in I can’t remember when and shit I’m fucking dizzy my head is spinning and I’m holding her so tight I hope I’m not hurting her fuck I need to lay down like right the fuck now…

~~~~~

Never. I’ve never had sex this good. And this was just a ‘wham bam we need it too bad to take our time’ fuck, what the hell is he like when he does take his time? Somehow he laid us back down, I don’t even remember, and he’s on top of me but it’s all good, I’m not ready for him to pull out, not yet not yet not yet…

I’m just kind of petting him, my fingers are playing through his hair, my other hand just smoothing over his back, and we’re both just sweaty and slick and hot and spent. I’d be happy to just die like this, I’m not even kidding. I’ve wanted him for so long. So damn long.

~~~~~

I’ve gotta move, she’s gotta be smothering under me. But damn, the way she whimpers and holds on when I pull out, must not have been too bad. I just fucking collapse beside her and drag her into my arms. I’m not letting go of you yet, baby girl. Not for a while. Actually, not fucking ever. I kiss her head and just hold her, and it feels right. I don’t know why I kept fighting it. I mean, hunters don’t get much chance to be just – happy. I guess maybe we’ve earned it.

Tags for my lovelies (by the way, if your tag has been on here for ages and hasn’t been working - I’ve removed it. If you need a tag, please let me know!):

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#mimi's romcom fluff challenge #friendly advice #dean fic #dean x reader #my fic #dean fluff #dean smut #dean x reader POV #hope y'all enjoy this

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cowtingz · 7 years

Text

Musically Inclined

GoodAnimeGirl4536

Summary:

"James asks Sam to run into town and pick up some music for him, and this one dumb errand turns into a trip he won't soon forget."

Notes:

Music Store AU that is fluffiness to the max.

(See the end of the work for more notes.)

Story:

Sam didn't get the Human World.

Sure, there were some sweets perks to living in it: he had way more freedom than when he was living in the Abyssal Plains, for one. Yeah, he'd pretty much slacked off that whole time, but at least here, he could slack off and not have his douchebag Dad breathing down his neck.

Video games were pretty cool, too. Matthew had dug up some old human gaming console from the mansion’s basement the first week after they’d arrived, and since then, handing his ass to him never got old.

But the rest was kind of a shitshow.

Sam didn’t know much about Human World history either. Unlike James, who for some reason actually liked studying every aspect of human life. Their traditions and cultures were fascinating to him, and he seemed to start on a new research topic every other week. This time it was music. More specifically, a bunch of long-dead musicians.

“Sam, I’d appreciate if you could simply do me this favour,” James yelled tiredly through the open window. Sam didn’t have to see him to know he was pinching the bridge of his nose in irritation.

“Why the hell do I gotta go out and get your stupid music? Whaddaya even want it for anyway?” Sam groused, not bothering to open his eyes. Cushioning his arm beneath his head, he shifted onto his side, enjoying how the afternoon sun warmed the roof.

He heard James sigh.

“I’ve already told you. If we are to stay in this world, we must learn all that we can about the people who occupy it. The research I’m compiling highlights the men and women that greatly affected humanity; explorers, theorists, musicians and scientists alike. Beethoven, Bach and Mozart for example - seen as geniuses for the prominent pieces of music they’d composed in their lifetimes, and whom are still considered to be the most brilliant minds of the age in modern-”

“Ok, ok, I got it. Geez… But why me? Isn’t this Damien’s kinda thing? He loves all that stuff about humans: just get him to do it.”

“Damien and Matthew are out shopping for this week's groceries, and before you ask, Erik is gone as well. He’s picking up some books that I need from the library.”

“So why don’t you go and get the CD’s then?” Sam retorted, adding under his breath, “You’re the one who actually wants to waste his time listening to ‘em.”

“I heard that,” James snapped, “And for your information, I’m still in the process of finalizing our Citizenship documents. Fake as they may be, blending in with the humans and their routines is crucial to the start of our new lives. Unless you’d rather spend the duration of our time here confined to the mansion.”

How the hell did his stupid research have anything to do with that last part? Sam didn’t respond, rolling over onto his back. Their freedom depended on some old dead guys who could write music? That logic made zero sense. But even the idea of not being able to leave the mansion for the rest of his life really sucked.

Before he had a chance to finish his internal debate though, James took his lapse of silence as a ‘yes’.

“Be sure to take some money with you, as well as one of the disposable cell phones I bought, just in case. And you can take the bus into town to get to the record shop.”

“Oh, one last thing,” James called over his shoulder, voice growing fainter as he walked away. “I’ll leave you a note with directions and a list of several composers and song titles on the dining table. It should make finding the materials simpler.”

And with that, he left, his footsteps echoing softly off the marble floors.

Once he was sure James was gone, Sam opened his eyes, squinting up at the sky. Freakin’ perfect. Reluctantly, he braced himself up on his left hand, rubbing his other palm into his eye.

All this for some stupid music…

♪♫♪

While on his brothers’ dumb errand, Sam discovered something else he didn’t understand about humans.

Why the hell they ever took the bus.

Hot and cramped, with fifty other people crowding around him, it reeked like sweat and the ‘gasoline’ James had told him powered the thing. It was loud as shit too. People talking, some kid was crying, and there was a guy playing a game on his phone and screaming at it.

If the humans thought it was bad, it was a thousand times worse for Sam. With his enhanced senses, the smell and noise were practically choking him, and getting jostled every two minutes by the old lady knitting in the seat beside him wasn’t helping.

Agitated, he tried to adjust his hold on the safety pole but felt the steel crumple in his grasp. He quickly loosened his grip, only to find a perfect imprint of his hand dented into the metal. Sam groaned and resigned himself to leaning against the damn thing instead. That was precisely the moment that the old lady finished her row, and jabbed him squarely in the ribs again. Startled, he fell to the dirty bus floor, landing on his ass with a thud. The guy on his phone snickered, and Sam's blood boiled.

Fucking awesome.

When the bus finally stopped, he vaulted over the seats, dashed out the sliding doors with inhuman speed, and skidded to a stop on the sidewalk. Bent over with his hands on his knees, he gasped for air, taking several deep breaths.

He was walking back to the mansion, no fucking question.

Once the horrible smell was out of his nose and the ringing had faded from his ears, Sam straightened. Breathing hard and pissed beyond belief, he pulled the paper James had left him out of his vest pocket. The faster he got this done, the better, and according to the crudely drawn map sketched on the note, the record store was a just a little further down the road - the fifth on the left.

He heard it before he saw it. Muffled laughter and music floated down the street, coming from a run-down looking shop.

It was definitely old, crammed between an arcade and a bookstore. The bricks were chipped and worn. Cobwebs blew gently in the corners of windows that were littered with faded posters, and a stained welcome mat sat in front of a tarnished brass door. In short, it looked like shit, but Sam couldn't have cared less; it wasn’t like he planned on taking his time.

Pushing the door open, a bell chimed above Sam's head and scattered voices mixed with the music playing in the background.

It was bigger than it looked outside, but just as messy. Boxes were stacked everywhere, while different instruments hung on the walls. A busted light cast shadows over the back of the store while the sections of CD’s were brightly lit. Rows of shelves held hundreds of discs for people to browse, but thankfully it was nowhere near as cramped as the bus.

Now that he was here, all he had to do was find James’s shit. Then he could get back to the mansion. Sam wandered to the nearest shelf and unfolded the list again. Ruffling his hair, he started scanning the names, already bored. After the first couple lines, though, he furrowed his brow and brought the paper closer to his face.

Looking over the titles a little more closely, his eyes widened. Shit...

He couldn’t recognize one damn word on the page.

It was no big secret that Sam couldn’t read, not extensively anyway. He knew the basics, kinda, but James and Erik were the ones who’d been taught properly, being the prospective heirs and all. Matthew had picked up some reading and writing from his mom, and Damien… Well, he had actually tried to learn once they’d ended up in the Human World, combing through the mansion’s library for practice. Sam had meant to join him once or twice, he just… hadn’t gotten around to it yet.

He could read some smaller words, and he’d been kind of betting on that to get him through the stupid trip. But the names and titles James had written were long and complicated, completely foreign to him. If he couldn’t pick out any familiar words, how the hell was he supposed to find the right CD’s?

Gripping the paper tighter, Sam tried to focus on the letters of James’s handwriting, but they melted and blurred together.

Fuck. Now what was he gonna do?

Growling under his breath, he picked a random case off the shelf and scrutinized it, trying to match the title cover to something on his list. …No, this one didn't start with the right letter. He dropped it back in its slot and picked up another. The font was curly and intricate, which made reading it even harder. …Was that one long word or two really short ones…?

“Hi there! Can I help you with anything?”

Sam stiffened at the sudden, perky voice behind him, his fingers gripping the case in his hands hard enough to audibly crack the plastic. He was not in the mood for this shit right now…

With a grim set of his jaw and a biting “No, I’m fine, leave me alone ” on his lips, he whirled around, but the words promptly died in his throat.

A girl was standing with her thumbs hooked casually in the front pockets of her jeans. Long, dark hair hung loosely around her shoulders, shining even in the dim light. Contrasting sharply against her fair skin, it brought out her wide, emerald green eyes; eyes that were watching him closely.

She tilted her head to the side, concern dimming her cheerful smile as she stared up at him. “Hey, are you alright?” she asked, noticing how white his knuckles had gone around the CD case.

“What?” Sam replied thickly, his thoughts buzzing as he tried not to swallow his own tongue.

Her expression softened, the corners of her eyes crinkling. “Can I help you?” she repeated patiently. “Are you looking for something?”

His brain froze; he couldn't help it. Her voice was so soft that if he’d been another foot away, he might've missed it. And yet, it held such tenderness, something Sam had no experience with at all. He was utterly stunned; the deadly combination of both shock and awe rendering him baffled.

Blinked owlishly, he nodded, handing her the crushed note robotically. When her fingers brushed his, more warmth seeped through his already flustered body.

“It’s nice you have a list. A lot of the time, people just come in here with a general idea of what they’re looking for, and they end up wandering around for hours.” She laughed nostalgically at her own memory, before smoothing the paper over her leg and reading through it. “Alright, let’s see… Oh! 'Bach, Beethoven, Chopin, and Mozart'. You’re interested in Classical music?” she presumed.

“Uh, well, yeah. I guess?” Sam muttered, cursing himself for stammering like an idiot. She was just some girl - a human girl - and yet he could barely string together a proper sentence. What the hell was wrong with him?

“Cool! It’s been too long since someone showed an interest in something other than the usual Top 40’s.” Nodding thoughtfully, she refolded his list and peered down at the CD he was still clutching. “But you know, I think you’re gonna have a little trouble finding what you're looking for here…" she said matter-of-factly, and Sam's breath hitched.

Shit - she’d made him. What the hell did he do now? Explain why he couldn’t read the labels? He blanked, her sudden appearance and the panic now flooding his veins leaving him incapable of responding, let alone defending himself.

But instead of scrutiny, her eyes sparkled with mischief, and she chewed her bottom lip. "…Because the Country section is a really bad place to start.”

The blood drained from Sam’s face, and she snorted, bursting into a fit of laughter. Light and happy, it rang clear as a bell, and even as he sagged against the shelf in relief, warmth flooded his chest. Who had a laugh like that? Dumbfounded, he listened as she continued to giggle softly, nose scrunched.

Then indignation had him scowling half-heartedly. She was laughing at him. That girl nearly gave him a heart attack, and she thought it was funny? What the hell?!

Still trying to smother her laughter with her hand, she looked back up at him with the sweetest smile Sam had ever seen. His scowl faltered.

Well, she was… actually… kinda cute. She had to work here, right? Why else would she ask him if he needed help? Maybe he could get her name… No way, she’d probably freak out or something. Worse, she might figure out what he was, and then James would kick his-

Wait. Country?

Realizing his mistake, Sam’s face burned, and he quickly returned the disc. Shoving his hands into his pockets, he awkwardly cleared his throat, “So, um, w-where can I find those uh-”

“I can show you!” she offered, maybe a little too quickly, and her face flushed a warm pink. Sam gawked at her eager response and, embarrassed, she looked down at her shoes. “S-sorry. It’s just… been awhile since someone came in looking for Classical music, that's all…”

The pink tint to her cheeks proved to be incredibly distracting, and since he still wasn’t all there, Sam just continued to stare like a dumbass.

It got uncomfortably quiet for a second; Sam standing like a statue while the girl shifted her weight from foot to foot. His brain was screaming at him to say something - anything - but she beat him to it.

“You know what, you-you brought a list, so you obviously know what you need.” She smiled sheepishly, and Sam’s heart lurched into his throat. “I should probably just leave you to-”

“No!” he cut her off sharply. Taken aback, she stared up at him with wide eyes, and he shook his head vigorously. Without her, he had no goddamn hope of finding the stuff for James. And for some stupid reason… he didn’t want to see her go. “Uh, no,” he said again, a little more put together. “You can help… If you want.”

His mumbled words were almost indistinguishable, but she caught them anyway, and another beautiful smile lit up her face, effectively taking his breath away for the third time.

“Ok then! Just follow me.” Beaming, she turned on her heel, and Sam couldn’t help but admire her figure as she walked away. Slim, but curvy, she held herself with the same grace he remembered from the higher ups in the Abyssal Plains. But that was where the similarities ended. There was something else - it wasn’t the same ‘holier-than-thou ’, 'walks-with-a-stick-up-their-ass’ kind of attitude. The way she folded her hands, the light behind her smile. She was just… warm.

“Are you coming?” Her voice snapped him out of his thoughts, and he quickly jogged to catch up to her. Together, they breezed past row after row of music, and at every turn, she was recognized by someone; asking how she was, or if school was going well.

“You’re pretty popular,” Sam commented as they wormed their way through the store.

She scoffed, which still somehow managed to sound endearing.

“Thanks, but I’m really not. I’ve only been working here part-time for about 6 months, just until I finish up my last year of high school. Most of our customers are regulars anyway; not many people actually go out to buy their music anymore, ya know?”

No, he didn't. But Sam chose not to mention that in fear of looking even more stupid than he already felt.

Finally reaching an aisle around the far end of the shop, she spread the list out beside her and set to work, skimming her fingers lightly across the tops of the albums. Stacking CD after CD, she worked diligently with a determined smile, expressing how genuinely happy she was with the task of helping him.

Sam watched the pile steadily grow until there were about two dozen cases, at least.

Geez, how much music did James need?

Every so often, she’d lean over and check the paper before setting back to work, but the motion kept untucking a lock of hair from behind her ear. And seeing her run her small fingers through it, attempting to pin it back into place over and over again, was driving Sam crazy. So were the soft sounds she made, the little ‘hmm’s and oh’s when she got frustrated, or the ‘uh-huh’s and ‘ah-ha’s when she found the correct album.

After a few minutes she finally finished, and Sam could breathe properly again. Adding one last case to the pile with a loud clack!, she turned back to rest against the shelf.

“Phew! That should be all of them! Quite the collection you’re starting; I don’t think I’ve ever seen someone buy so many CD’s at once.” Her bubbly enthusiasm was infectious, and slowly, Sam found himself relaxing.

“Thanks,” he said, scratching at his jaw absently.

“No problem. By the way, my name is Mika. Probably should’ve said that awhile ago but…” Trailing off, and once again brushing back that piece of hair, she looked at him expectantly.

“Sam,” he introduced stiffly, “I’m Sam.”

She must’ve smiled at him more than a half a dozen times now, but it didn’t stop her from sending another his way, just as dazzling as the others. “It’s nice to meet you, Sam.”

♪♫♪

Fifteen minutes later, his CD’s were packed into shopping bags - three to be precise - and Sam was ready to head back to the mansion. Mika had offered to check him out, and she’d been incredibly patient as he floundered with the currency James had left him. Seeing his distress, she’d taken his money and counted out exactly how much he owed, despite the growing line behind them.

“Thanks... again,” he muttered lamely, collecting his change off the counter.

“It’s ok. You did have quite the bill,” she laughed brightly, scribbling something down on the last CD before dropping it into one of the bags. “I hope your friend enjoys the music, by the way.”

“Whaddaya mean?” Sam questioned, and she arched a brow.

“The music. It’s not for you, is it?” She drummed her fingers against the wood tabletop. “I mean I don’t want to assume but…” He swallowed as she appraised his appearance with gentle curiosity - his vest, ripped shirt, and silver dog tags - before meeting his gaze with keen eyes, “You don’t look like you’re into Classical.”

Sam felt heat crawl up his neck and into his face. He dragged a hand through his hair in what he hoped seemed like a controlled action, awkwardly trying to regain a grasp on the situation.

It would be easier if she’d just stop looking at him like that.

She waved off his stuttered attempt at an explanation with a shake of her head. “It’s fine. I hope you’ll come back again soon, though. Maybe then I’ll get a chance to find out what kind of music you like to listen to.” The invitation to return had his heart sputtering wildly in his chest.

“Hey, lovebirds! Can we hurry it up please?” an aggravated voice shouted behind him in line, and Sam choked.

He whipped his head around. “We’re not-!” he began hoarsely - mainly because all the air in his lungs seemed to have disappeared - but Mika cut him off.

“Tony, be nice. We’re not going to have a repeat of last month’s karaoke night, are we?” Laughter erupted in the line, and the man -Tony? - grumbled angrily.

Mika leaned on her forearms against the countertop, shielding the side of her mouth with her hand. “Had to be 'removed from the premises’ when he flipped over a patio table,” she whispered under her breath, amusement dancing in her green eyes, and Sam smirked. She bit her lip to keep from giggling, hoping to maintain some form of professionalism as he picked up his bags and headed for the door.

“Thanks for stopping by!” Mika called from behind the counter with a little wave, and Sam’s heart gave one last loud thump at her brilliant smile. He nodded with a hesitant grin, and suddenly he was out on the sidewalk.

Sam blinked rapidly, turning to look back in through the large window, and saw she was already helping the next customer. It was the man who’d interrupted them, and by the way he was hanging his head and Mika’s stern finger wagging, she was letting him have it.

Chuckling, he walked back to the bus stop and was right on time to catch the next one out. He was lucky enough to score a seat this time around too, and gratefully dropped the bags of CD’s on the floor underneath him.

Sam quickly craned his neck to get one last look at the store. Mika was partially blocked by the angle, but he could tell she was talking animatedly to someone, and smiling just as warmly as she had before. Then she was gone, enveloped in a cloud of black fumes as the bus pulled away.

♪♫♪

Sam shifted in his chair, trying to get comfortable, but while the smell wasn’t as bad this time around, the noise was still insufferable. With a groan, he gave up. Desperate to distract himself, Sam noted the bags on the floor and shrugged, leaning down and yanking one open. Shuffling through the contents, he examined the cover art and odd titles until he finally came across a case at the bottom of the bag that made him pause. The artwork appeared to be graphics of chainlink over a black background with bold, white text. That wasn’t what caught his eye, though.

Sam’s brows rose as he read one of the only English words he knew: his human name. Written on a piece of tape stuck to the front, it pointed with a little arrow, indicating he should open the case. He did so, and found a small, handwritten note scrawled on a fold of paper that had his ears burning:

Sam: “You seem like a rock kind of guy. Here’s an album by Rise of the Phoenix. I think you’ll like them! Let me know, ok? ♪ (XXX) XXX-XXXX ♫" - Mika

He couldn’t quite make out all of the text, but he sure as hell could recognize a phone number. Grinning to himself like an idiot, Sam let the bag of CD’s drop back to the ground below his seat but held tight to the one Mika had left especially for him.

He’d meet up with Damien in the library to start practicing first thing tomorrow. After he listened to a certain album.

Notes:

Thank you for reading this fluffy fic. I hope you enjoyed! And in case you missed it, the album Mika gives to Sam is a direct reference to the single 'Chained the Monster', which is the opening theme for Seduce Me the Otome! I highly recommend you take a listen to it if you haven't already; it's an awesome song!

Copy and paste to see song:https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=RlYYsnVREC8

#Seduce Me SM SM2 Seduce Me Sam Sam x Mika

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