(Russia x Reader) Shattered Sunflower Memories (3)DISCLAIMER: I don't own you or Hetalia. You know it. ಠ_ಠ
Shattered Sunflower Memories (Chapter 3)
"Where is my album?!"
Natalya remained quiet. Yekaterina shushed me, but I was too furious. What did Natalya do to it?! I feel my teeth grit and my breathing became fast and hard, like an angry dragon.
"Natalya. I'll ask you again. Where. Is. My. Album."
I heard a click from the door and my head snaps to see (name) step in with the album under her arms. Oh... No, no, this can't be... I flash my little sister a glare, but she doesn't react. I walk quickly towards (name), reaching my hand out to the album, but just when I was going to get my hands on it, (name) put it behind her back. I stare into her eyes, reflecting nothing. Did she regain her memories...? She sighs.
"Unfortunately, I am still 'Aleksandra'. Now tell me, Ivan—"
I cut her off by slamming my hand on the door, making (name) flinch. I kept gazing into her eyes that seeked for answe
This day was inevitable; you had been anxiously anticipating it for quite some time now. For someone with such a beautiful form, it was hard to believe the thoughts that circulated in your head were conjured up in this society. Pondering endlessly on the cruelties of this world only made them a closer reality; and yet ignoring them made life transparent, like an endless empty void that was inescapable. Although Sibyl could easily read your state of mind, it’s not like your inner thoughts were projected onto an IMAX screen. If they were, you’d only hope that everyone was looking away. The darkest parts of your mind were not for innocent eyes to see. Because your thoughts were deep, philosophical.
At times, the ideas of a nuclear explosion, mass plague, or aliens annihilating everything here seemed like a warm Christmas Eve dream. The idea of the oppressive Sibyl System destroyed and its supporters dead brought the most pleasing of smiles to your face. You’d finally be free from the shackles of technological enslavement. Everyone would be. But nothing gets passed a street scanner, and soon you were one in a number. You were the type of trash Sibyl was designed to eliminate and seclude. And yet, that very system was the reason all of these sinful thoughts plagued your mind. It was that twisted and sick sense or irony you so loved.
You were the criminal mind personified.
You were an enemy of Sibyl.
When he came to visit you, you saw that girl from his job that he had talked about from time to time. His partner in crime. Both characters sported their uniforms, and that was confirmation enough for you. In that stomach churning moment, you knew it wasn’t going to be like his past several visits. He wasn’t going to send soft kisses across your skin. He wasn’t going to let you indulge in exhilarating copulation. He wasn’t going to defy his duties as an Enforcer. He wasn’t going to let you leave alive- not with a 379 Crime Coefficient. This was the end you knew you were destined to meet, so without a fight, you surrendered to your pursuers. Running wouldn’t do any good now.
You were ready.
With your head bowed, your only focus now was on the cold concrete touching your bare feet. Looking into his eyes simply put too much weight on your chest. Even if your time together was simply for stress relief and pleasure, to say you hadn’t grown fond of the man would be a lie. The two of you shared similar thoughts and ideals, and his presence eased you. With him around, things made more sense, and alienation became so small. He was the one tangible person in this world of circuits and plastic.
But he had a job to do, and you had a fate to meet.
Without hesitation, he pulled the trigger.
His name would be the last words to escape your lips, and his Dominator would take the life that he had secretly cherished.
But both of you would meet again one day – right where latent criminals belonged.
South of Heaven.
His eyes trailed up, tracing the curvature of your legs. Silky stockings reaching under your skirt, hiding their lace edges. Your skirt was riding delicately up your thigh, leaving Roy to openly drool.
You were oblivious to his hungry eyes, chatting away on the phone. Your provocative seat on the edge of your work desk was unintentional, a simple action to alleviate your sore high-heeled feet. Your dark lips formed unintelligible words, laughing occasionally on something said on the other end.
Roy was, for once, desperately trying to work. A thick manilla folder of documents still needed to be checked over, and crumpled handfuls of forms swamped his in-box. He couldn't even raise his ink pen, frozen with his hand perched half-way to the paper.
Your eyes flickered over to him, puzzled at his gaping features. You glanced down, then giving a soft giggle. You modestly adjusted your skirt to its normal length.
"Like what you see, sir?" You joked playfully, covering the mouth piece of the phone with your hand.
His milky white skin turned ruddy, clumsily dropping the pen. It clattered against the ink well, toppling the ivory piece over. Ink splattered over an employee review form, staining his navy jacket with speckles of black.
Maybe having mini-skirts was a horrible idea. Seeing you in a normal one was sending him helter skelter, heaven knew what even less fabric would do to the colonel. You finished the conversation with a lengthy goodbye, finally hanging the phone up on it's oak receiver.
"Sorry for the mess, sir." You winced a little, watching the ravenette smear ink on his pristine gloves.
"Not your fault, Ms. (l/n). My hands weren't as good as I've bragged." He winked in return, trying weakly to return your flirtation.
His secretary was in no way a bad employee. She easily made friends with his comrades, turned her work in on time, and was well versed in alchemy and it's practices. You couldn't ask for more. But Roy did.
He was itching to make you his girl, at all costs. It should have been pretty easy. Flirt, wait for the swoon and just catch you. The Flame Alchemists bloated ego was slowly draining, as it usually did when it took too long. You'd been working at Central for two months now. It was official 'too long'.
"Colonel, I'm going to run these notices down to Lieutenant Hawkeye and head home. Do you need anything before I go?"
"I've told you, call me Roy." He regained his composure, his dark eyes gaining a mischievous light. "You know, you look good in lace, but I think of something better on you."
It was your turn to falter. It was hard working here some days. To look up and see those dark eyes meet yours. He would smile at you, look back down and continue to write. Meanwhile, you were left to melt in your chair. It just wasn't fair. Not only was your Boss muscular and roguishly handsome, he was sweet and protective. Not to mention fairly funny, when he wanted to be. When he flirts, you appreciated the hell out of it, but was there anything more to the Alchemist than just a one night stand?
"Colonel, please." You gathered your bag off the chair back. "I've said it before, I don't like sleazy come-ons."
Roy huffed. He wasn't sleazy. He was suave. He offered a charming grin, folding his hands under his chin as he leaned on his desk. They both knew they were into each other. Most of the staff did, too. It was only a matter of time, romance, and courage.
"What's it gonna take for you to come home with me, instead?"
"Mm, dinner at the little restaurant on Main street?" You shrugged, putting on your coat. "Friday. Pick me up in your car, bring flowers, look nice. You're paying. I recommend up to two compliments per hour, no less than one. Tell cute stories, don't complain about Fullmetal, and I will allow one kiss at the end of the night."
He paused, mulling over the conditions.
"And then we can...."
"That will be after date three. A girl has to have standards." You walked back over, planting a kiss on the militants red cheek. "See you Friday, Roy~"
It happened. I had to. Kill me, why don't you.
It's a reader insert. *grins* A fluffy one.
It had to happen.
The Russian sighed as he played with the silver band. He would do it, today. He would finally propose to his little sunflower, that much he was sure of. But, the question that continued to linger at the back of his mind was a simple yet annoying one: how?
He loved (name), of that there was no doubt. Countless times he had made sure (name) knew and he knew that she loved him just as much. As such, he wanted to make this the best day ever. But he wasn’t romantic. He wasn’t as suave as Rodrich, the Austrian, confident as that annoying German, Gilbert, or amorous as Francis, that flashy Frenchman at work. It’s not to say that Ivan had no redeeming points, he just wasn’t very good with the whole ‘lovey-dovey’ thing.
The problems kept increasing and for a moment Ivan actually wondered if he could do it. Who could he turn to? His sister, Katyusha? Maybe Natalia? Ivan had no real friends of his own, so his family were his only option. Then again, neither of his sisters would be much help and frankly Ivan was a little scared of Natalia.
Sighing, Ivan pocketed the ring and continued to listen to the brash American scream his opinions. He would figure this out later.
After the tiring meeting was over and everyone was reminded how pointless it was, Ivan began to hunt for someone, anyone, to talk to about his predicament. It seemed he found someone!
Ah… it was the American. Sucking up his pride, Ivan made his way towards Alfred, sending him one of his sweetest, forced smiles.
“Alfred, I have a question to ask.”
“What is it dude? I’m a little busy.” the blond clearly did not want to deal with the Russian right now, but he didn’t have much of a choice.
“I want to propose to my sunflower. How?”
“I dunno. Give her flowers or something. Do I look like a married man?”
“Flowers? Just that?” Ivan pressed, confused at how simple a task it would be.
“Take her to McD’s then. That’s what I would do.” with a bored glance Alfred huffed a loud, “Do you mind? I have business with someone.”
‘When did burgers become people?’ Ivan asked himself as he trudged away, unhappy with the answer he received. Searching around for someone else to ask, he saw the blond Englishman, Arthur, the one who always fought and screamed for no reason.
“Arthur! I am needing your help!”
“Ivan? What is it?” the Englishman’s emerald eyes widened slightly, hints of fear showing.
“I want to propose to my sunflower, how do I do it?”
“Well… umm…” there was an awkward silence as the shorter blond before Ivan racked his brain for a suitable answer. “Ah! How about asking someone else?”
“What?” Ivan asked, confused.
“I have loads of work to do! Good luck Ivan!” And with that, Ivan was left to stand in the hallway alone, wondering what had just happened.
Sighing, the Russian was just about to give up hope when he saw someone he knew could help. Standing by one of the pillars, flirting with a maid stood Francis. With long, easy strides, Ivan was next to the flirtatious Frenchman in a matter of moments. Francis more than jolted when Ivan put a large hand on his shoulder and the maid quickly bowed and ran, scared out of her wits.
“What was the big idea- Ivan!” Francis’s annoyed tone turned into a more surprised one, “W-what is it? Forgot some paperwork?”
“No.” Ivan replied stiffly, “I have a question to ask. May I?”
“I-I’m a bit busy right now… maybe later?” Francis tried to wriggle away from the larger male but Ivan’s stronghold kept him in place.
“Later is not an option. Cancel your plans.” Ivan practically ordered.
“Canceled! Canceled! What is it you need?”
“I am having a problem. You will help me?” Ivan inquired, once more a command, his lilac eyes boring holes, Francis nodded his head quickly, “Good. I want to propose to my sunflower. But I cannot.”
“Eh? Propose? Like for marriage?” the blond was more than caught off-guard. Who would marry Ivan!?
“Yes for marriage, why? Do you propose for other things?”
“No, no, anyway, why can’t you?” Ivan had let go of his shoulder now, his expression turning a bit meek.
“I do not know how to.” he admitted, “I want to make my (name) happy. You are good at this stuff, yes? You will help me, won’t you?”
“Ivan…” Francis was at a loss for words. Ivan Braginsky, the biggest, scariest, most anti-social (well he seemed anti-social, poor guy just couldn’t make any friends) person he had ever seen had someone he loved and wanted to propose to. A fire of determination shone in Francis’s eyes as he declared, “Don’t worry, you poor, misguided creature, big-brother France will help you!”
Ivan’s mood finally lifted, he had been right in trusting Francis with this! Just as Francis was about to dive into a complicated but no doubt romantic plan, someone came and dragged him away by his collar. She looked like an angry she-devil, constantly cursing and screaming at him as she pulled him away and out of the building.
Ivan simply stood and blinked. His only hope… had been dragged away.
When (name) had returned home, she had expected to see Ivan waiting to greet her, that’s how it normally was. Except… he was no where to be found. After calling his name a few times, (name) wondered if he was sleeping. He often complained about how stressful his meetings were.
Cautiously, she entered their shared bedroom and whispered the Russian’s name. When no reply came, she flicked the room light on and saw to her utter shock a small box and note on her side of the bed. Taking slow, careful strides, she picked up the note and read the three words written in a form she knew belonged to Ivan.
“ Become one, da? ”
When she opened the velvet box, she found it empty but she understood. Dropping the box and note on the bed, the (h/c)ette ran out of their bedroom and straight into his study. Flinging the wooden door open, she saw her silvery-blond haired Russian kneeling with a ring in his hands.
“I am sorry it could not be more romantic…” Ivan muttered, a blush coating his fair cheeks, “But, (first name) (last name), will you marry me?”
Nodding her head like crazy, the girl practically pounced upon him, tears streaming down her face as she repeated that she would.
“So, how did it go?” a bruised Francis asked Ivan the next day.