#narumi is really cool guys i promise

[windser]

i realllly want to write about being both the sibling of kafka hibino and the significant other of gen narumi—this is just me outwardly rambling.

i imagine them as more support staff (possibly medic). they grew up influenced by kafka's and ashiro's declaration to join the defense force. just a a year or two short of them, but vowing to make sure they can always get back up on their feet. their grades are what get them noticed by the defense force (considering having them specialize in the kaiju equipment and how it affects the human body ... idk idk the possibilities are endless)

im honestly leaning more towards marriage tbh. gen gives some commitment vibes given his past and the direness of their jobs. it would also mask their surname a bit.

more on the siblings, im wondering if there would be a bit of a light separation with ashiro reaching her goal and kafka falling short. yes they're all part of the defense force, but kafka feels like he fell short of the dream. not to say he's absent from his sibling's life but definitely not as prominent. playing with the idea of him knowing about narumi and actually knowing narumi.

hmmmmmmmm .... decisions decisions

[hoshinasblade]

For real, the animator had ri have been a Hoshina loyalists. Cause no way he looks that bad. For a Narumi prompt it could be funny that he gets with someone that doesn't know him. Someone who doesn't believe he is the 1st division captain because they only see him as the "wet cat" version of himself. And we have Narumi losing his mind over the fact you don't believe him

(not sure where tumblr took my post again because i cant find it lol) the budget went to hoshina and his tight shirt and there was nothing left to animate narumi properly. anyway, this is such a cute and interesting prompt because because yes, he is losing his mind over you not believing he is the cool first division captain 😆

pairing: gen narumi x f!reader trigger warnings: narumi gen is a trigger warning himself, just super short because im not used to writing anything narumi-related yet. hopefully you don't get mad at me anon for not going exactly per the ask lol my brain is a mush right now, i'll try harder on my next fics

the rich man is here, shouted the kids from the hallway. you can hear their hurrying footsteps - excited little taps that in turn triggered your heartbeat to race as well. you shut your eyes, calming yourself down.

narumi gen is not exactly a rich man; the children in the orphanage just calls him that fondly. apparently he has been dropping by for years, way back when you weren't working as a teacher yet. the older orphans refer to him as nii-san.

narumi would bring toys snd snacks for the kids, and would spend time with them until the early evening before he has to say goodbye. last time, he played video games with everyone; he brought crayons and sketch boobs for his visit today, and within an hour, it was eerily quiet - the little girls and boys holding their pencils, drawing all sorts of things.

the youngest in your herd, a six-year old boy with a missing front tooth ran to you when he saw you by the door, showing you his drawing - a stick-man figure with a knife in its hand, and an animal beside it which you were not sure whether it's an oversized dog or a giraffe.

"it's a kaiju, and narumi nii-san is fighting it", the boy explained, and you patted him in the head. "he's a captain of his team, i'm gonna be like him when i grow up!"

you looked at narumi who is sitting on the floor, but he was already looking at you. you shifted your gaze. "this is so pretty, we should display it in the art wall", you suggested to the boy who grinned at you, clapping.

"you know that it's not a good thing to do, lying to kids, right?" the children had bid narumi goodbye just past 7pm, and although some of them cried, narumi was quick to promise he would be back next weekend. you were surprised, he used to only be here once a month.

"huh?" he responded to you with confusion. you walked him out the orphanage to the parking lot outside. "i don't know what you're talking about."

"look, i know you are trying to be nice. and i thank you for that. what you've done for these kids is more than anyone else have done for them. but telling them you're some guy who kills kaiju is wrong. and telling them they can be like you?" you scoffed.

narumi's mouth was wide open before he realized you have finished your speech. "but i am a guy who kills kaiju", he replied, his hand on his chest as if he is swearing on his life. "really, i'm not lying. i'm the captain of my team -"

"right, and you fight kaiju on the daily," you finished his sentence for him.

"yes, i am a real badass, i promise!" he exclaimed when he sensed you do not believe him in the slightest. it looks comical how he looks close to panicking over the fact that you are not buying whatever he's selling. he frowned at you, and you stared at him, the eye contact lasting for a few seconds.

maybe this guy is a con-artist and he makes his living manipulating people, you said to yourself. this would make a lot of sense considering you think he has the good looks to lure people in. narumi had flirted at you once or twice before - or you wish he was flirting and you were not just reading too much on his actions.

"you know if you meet my friends, they would tell you the truth," he suggested, his voice cheerful.

"why would i meet your friends?" you asked, equally confused.

"so they can tell you that i am the coolest captain of the anti-kaiju defense force. they would also tell you i am a good man and a dependable friend," narumi said, reciting maybe the contents of his curriculum vitae to you. is he in a job interview? you wanted to ask but didn't.

you sighed in defeat. "are your friends as exasperating as you are?" you asked in jest.

"come on, let me impress you", he told you with sincerity that is almost startling. you were not expecting him to sound so genuine, so adamant at proving himself to you.

the kids will have their dinner in a few minutes and you will be needed to help out. you gave narumi one last glance before strolling back to the orphanage. "i'm off on fridays", you said.

narumi's smile could have lighted the entire street.

[spectralscathath]

Skinny Vanilla Latte

Mikaela is the world's nicest customer, and Yuu's heart absolutely Does Not go 'doki doki' whenever he comes into the cafe for his standard order. Anyone who says otherwise is entirely incorrect. (Mikayuu but Coffee Shop AU)

Commissioned Mikayuu oneshot for @fyrecrackeruwu

Ao3 link, ff.net link

“Peppermint mocha, extra whip, for Lacus!” Yuichiro called out, trying to remember his customer service smile even though he knew his eyes said ‘I’ll kill you’ to every person in the café. Narumi just had to go and get a new job, like the traitorous bitch he was. Being a lifeguard wasn’t even a real thing.

Narumi’s absence left the Moon Demon Café down a barista, and because Shinoa and Kimizuki were banned from interacting with the general public, Yuu had been the only one they could shunt from the kitchen into front of house.

Fuck this job. If he didn’t need it so badly he’d have tossed his apron in Guren’s stupid face to get rid of the shitsmug smirk.

“Hi, welcome to the Moon Demon Café,” he turned to the next customer. “What can I-” oh my god. Don’t pause keep talking. “… I get you today?”

Holy SHIT someone call Heaven because an angel had gone missing. Seriously, the customer standing on the other side of the counter was the prettiest guy Yuu had ever seen. Not to be corny on main, but this was the first time Yuu had ever thought ‘eyes like sapphires, hair like spun gold’ had ever felt like actually applicable metaphors for someone.

“A skinny vanilla latte, please?” Pretty Boy said with the utmost politeness, and Yuu remembered that breathing existed and so did brain functions.

“Of course, can I interest you in any of our specials today?” He put on his best grin, writing down the coffee.

“No thank you, just the coffee.” Pretty Boy kept smiling, already having his card ready to pay because clearly this guy was Mr Perfect Customer.

“Sure thing, can I get a name for this order?” He barely held back from tacking a pet name onto the end, but he managed. Someone get him a medal.

“Mikaela. Mika works though, please don’t try spell ‘Mikaela’.” Pretty Boy- Mika’s- smile became slightly glassy, with the wartorn eyes of someone who’d had consistent misspellings of their name throughout their life.

“Mika it is,” Yuu grinned at him and scrawled it down. “I’ll have that ready for you in a jiffy.” Why the fuck did he say ‘jiffy’.

Mikaela snorted, bringing a hand up to cover his smile. “Sure thing.”

Yuu smiled and started up the coffee grinder, his cheer instantly evaporating away when he heard the sound of an empty grinder. Where were the coffee beans kept again? Shinoa better not have moved their location to fuck with him.

“It’ll be just a sec,” he forced a grin at Mika, getting a shrug in return. Customer seemed chill, cool. He reached under the counter to find empty air, instantly ducking down to check. Nothing but coffee residue from the bags. Welp.

“Hey, Kimizuki?” He yelled at the back.

“What?!”

“Where’d the coffee get moved?”

“You think I know?! Figure it out yourself, dumbass! I’m cooking!”

Yuu’s eye twitched and he counted to ten in his head to prevent himself from leaping through the overpass to wring Kimizuki’s neck. “Of course,” he grumbled. “Let me just pull some coffee beans out of my ass, that’s how we run things here.”

There was a soft chuckle and Yuu blanched, realising that shitfuck his sarcastic grumbling might have been a little too audible. He whipped around. “Uh- sorry, I didn’t mean that.”

Mika hid his laughter behind his hand again, blue eyes glittering like sapphires. “No no, it’s fine. Don’t worry.”

Yuu relaxed a little bit, kinda starstruck by the mirthful twinkle in those eyes. “I’ll just find you the coffee, give me a moment.” He spun around, hunting through every cabinet he could until he managed to find a dark roast with ‘hi Yuu’ scrawled on it in purple glittery ink. Shinoa and her fucking gel pens.

He started making the coffee properly this time, mentally promising that he would commit first-degree murder and get away with it the minute Shinoa showed her rat face again. He waited for the coffee machine to do the job and wrote Mika’s name on the takeaway cup, pausing before thinking to himself ‘fuck it’ and adding his phone number. He was gonna take the shot, especially since Mr Gorgeous had laughed at his sarcasm.

He finished putting it all together and smiled as he handed it over. “Skinny vanilla latte for Mika.”

“Thank you,” Mika grinned and pulled out a cup sleeve, slipping it onto the cup and completely hiding Yuu’s number. Yuu’s smile cracked. Fuck.

“Uh-” But Mika was already walking away after dropping change in the tip jar.

“Thank you!” He waved goodbye, the door closing behind him with a little jingle.

“You’re… welcome.” Goodbye gorgeous. Guess Yuu’d never see him again.

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

It was with great surprise that Yuu did in fact see Mika again, this time over Mitsuba’s shoulder as she did the ordering and customer talking while he just made coffee after endless coffee. Fuck rush hour holy shit.

He tried to catch Mika’s eye in-between frothing up milk and shaking cocoa powder over a cappuccino, green catching and locking with blue for the barest second before Mika smiled widely and gave him a little wave, a fancy-looking camera hanging around his neck. “Hi Yuu. Good luck with the rest of your shift, I hope it calms down a bit.”

“What, this? It’s no problem!” Yuu bragged, before he caught the side of his wrist on the milk spout and bit back a curse. Always with the burns.

“See you next time.” Mika grabbed his coffee, oblivious to Yuu’s plight, and walked out the door, again emptying some coins into the tip jar before he left.

Mitsuba turned to Yuu, blonde twintails bouncing with the movement. “You know that guy? He’s the nicest customer I’ve had yet. I hope he becomes a regular.”

“Yeah.” Yuu nodded. “Me too.”

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

Mika did, in fact, become a regular. Which was awesome.

Every Wednesday and Friday like clockwork he’d show up, order his skinny vanilla latte to have there, pick a booth, and do stuff on his laptop. It was pretty cool, aside from the fact that Yuu couldn’t write terrible pick-up lines on the latte glasses.

That was Plan A of ‘Operation: get Mika’s number’ thwarted.

Plan B was to write it on the napkins, but then the problem was that Mika didn’t order food. Currently Yuu was on Plan C, which was Plan B but better.

Mika walked in with his laptop bag and his camera-holding thingie, waiting patiently in line until he was at the counter. “Hi Yuu.”

“Hey Mika. The usual?” Yuu gave him a charming grin.

“That’d be great, thank you.” Mika beamed. It was really pretty.

Yuu had to take a second to recover.  “Easy, one usual coming up. Do you want to try a muffin to go with it? On the house, between you and me.”

Mika looked like he was considering it and for a moment Yuu’s hopes were rising, rising higher- “Thank you for the offer, but I already ate. Just the coffee, please.” And down those hopes fell, dashed against the rocks and crumpled like wretched Lucifer, cast from Heaven into the pits of hell.

“Sure thing. Give me a shot if you need a refill.”

“Will do.” Mika smiled at him, paid, and pottered off to go take a seat.

Yuu watched him go, noticing that he was wearing thigh-high boots what the fuck that wasn’t fair. That was illegal, that had to be illegal.

“Uh, sir? Sir? Can I order now?” Someone rang the bell and Yuu snapped back to reality, looking at the man in the- what the fuck was that a fucking cat? It looked like this man had lopped off the skull of a white tiger and mounted it on his head what the actual fuck. Yuu really hoped it was fake, he desperately fucking prayed.

Okay, goodbye Mika, hello Crazy Customer of the Day #309.

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

“Afternoon, Mika, the usual?” Yuu grinned at him, the café a bit quieter than usual. Maybe this time he could get a good conversation in while making Mika’s coffee.

“Yep, and also an English Breakfast tea, no sugars. I hope that’s not too much trouble.”

“None at all. You meeting a friend here?” He hoped it wasn’t a date. His attempts to try give Mika his number through shitty pick-up lines could not be foiled so easily.

“You could say that.” Mika smiled cheerfully, offering his card. “On debit, please.”

“No prob. He here yet?” Yuu looked around, not spotting any new faces.

“He said he’d be by in a few minutes. I’m surprised there’s not a rush, normally this place is quite busy. I thought getting a table would be harder.” Mika looked quite concerned at that.

Yuu waved it off as he finished putting in the docket. “It’s pre-midterms week. Everyone’s panic-studying, ordering pizza in, all that stuff.”

Mika chuckled. “I guess it’s a good thing I’m on top of my studies then, or else I might have had to miss out on the best coffee on campus.”

“Wouldn’t want that.” Yuu shot him a finger gun and a wink, before wondering if he’d overdone it. Luckily, Mika seemed to find it hilarious by how his smile went supernova and his laugh bubbled out of him.

“Definitely not. Thanks again.” Mika placed some coins in the tip jar before he went to the booth he always tried to sit at, pulling out his phone once he sat down.

Yuu watched him go and set to work on making the drinks, wondering if he should try make a food platter. Counterpoint to him trying to woo Mika through good food was the fact that Kimizuki was a snotty bitch who would kill him if he gave out even more free food, crushes be damned.

And yeah, Yuu could totally throw down with Kimizuki, but Mitsuba would tattle about it if there was a fight and he’d probably lose his job.

He’d just have to make it the best damn coffee in existence.

He was halfway through making the tea when a man walked in, and Yuu had to stop and stare for a sec because while yes, he was very fucking gay for Mika, he still had eyes.

It was when the total hunk sat down in front of Mika that Yuu felt his bout of ‘he’s pretty’ turn into entirely rational jealousy. Was Mika dating this guy? It took a special kind of hotness to pull off a braid and dyed bangs, Yuu could admit.

He put on his customer service smile as he carried the drinks over, rampant envy broiling in his veins. He set drinks down, being extra delicate and polite with Mika’s coffee and blanking out the other guy entirely. “here you go, Mika. If you need anything else, don’t hesitate to ask.”

“Thanks. Crowley, this is Yuu, the barista I mentioned. Yuu, this is my dad, Crowley.”

Yuu practically heard the record scratch sound. Dad?

His next thought was along the lines of ‘oh thank god, Mika’s still possibly available’, and he was starting to realise he may be desperate. “Nice to meet you, Crowley.”

“You too,” Crowley grinned back with a touch of a British accent curling around the words, red eyes twinkling in amusement. “Thanks for the cuppa, luv.”

Yuu nodded before tuning him out again and giving another smile to Mika, going around to clear some other tables and already plotting his next move. Fingerguns and winks were now on the table. Mhuahahahaha.

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

“So, Mika, how’s the photography?” Yuu struck up a conversation as he cleared away the latte glass, taking advantage of the restaurant’s quiet to try and kickstart a deep meaningful conversation that he was absolutely going to fill with stupid jokes.

“it’s going well,” Mika smiled, saving the photoshop file on the screen. Clearly he’d lost a file once by accident and saved every program with the vigour of a spartan warrior ever since. “Are you interested in photography?”

“Actually, I’m studying psychology,” Yuu grinned. “Gonna go for a masters if I can once I’m done with this, then eventually you’ll have to address me as Dr Yuichiro.”

Mika’s smile sharpened slightly. “A PhD, huh?”

“Thinking about it.” He shrugged, trying to look humble when he was anything but.

“I think Dr Yuichiro’s got a good ring to it,” Mika smiled slyly, and oh no that wasn’t fair he was not allowed to make it sound so sexy.

“You’re the first. Kimizuki said I shouldn’t be allowed near people,” he grinned.

“And you work the register?” Mika laughed.

“Used to work in the back ‘til Narumi up and ditched us to ‘follow his dreams’,” Yuu told him conspiratorially. “I’m the only one of the kitchen staff who can reliably not scare away customers, so I got shunted here.”

“Maybe I should thank Narumi then, if he got me such a good barista,” Mika smiled. “You’re not scary at all.”

“How dare you, I’m terrifying,” he joked.

Mika scoffed, sapphire eyes sparkling. “As terrifying as my cat.”

Yuu let out a theatrical gasp, balancing his tray on one hand as he clutched his heart. “I think I liked you better when you were a polite customer.”

Mika blinked innocently at him, a challenge curling at the edges of his toothy grin. “Am I not anymore? Shame.”

What a brat. Yuu smirked at him in answer. “Well, I can’t be rude to customers, so I’m legally required to say no.”

“Only legally? Not morally?” Mika rested his chin in his hands as he leaned forward on the table, his photoshop file left entirely forgotten.

“Morally I can say whatever the hell I want as long as it’s not said in front of consumers.” Yuu winked.

“I guess you’re treading on thin ice right now, huh?” Mika bit his lip in affected concern, a prominent pearly canine catching for a moment, and Yuu’s mind went fucking blank. “Best be careful then. I wouldn’t want my favourite barista to go jobless. Right, Yuu-chan?~”

“R-right.” Yuu stuttered for a moment as he tried and failed to come up with literally any kind of flirty remark in reply, getting zero zilch zip from his flatscreening brain. Head empty no thoughts. “I’ll get you a refill, then?”

Mika’s smile screamed ‘cat who caught the canary’. “Don’t keep me waiting, Yuu-chan.”

He nodded and scampered back behind the counter, taking a minute to settle his racing heart. He heard a tapping sound and looked at the overpass into the kitchen, Kimizuki rapping a spatula on the counter.

“You’re pathetic.” Kimizuki’s scornful gaze was only amplified by the glasses he wore.

Yuu flipped him off. Fuck Kimizuki.

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

Yuu steeled his nerve as Mika walked in, refusing to let his crush pull one over on him again. Shinoa hadn’t let up since Kimizuki had told her, and Yuu was getting real tired of every whipcrack hand motion she was sending his way.

Mika smiled very innocently as he walked up to the counter, blue eyes bright and oh-so-breathtaking. “Hello, Yuu-chan.”

Little bastard.

“Good to see you too, Mika,” he grinned, resting his elbows on the counter. “Here for your usual, or are you thinking of switching it up?”

“Hm,” Mika tilted his head like he was considering it. “Now that you mention it, maybe I should try something out. How about something a little sweeter this time, Yuu-chan?”

“I think you’re sweet enough already,” Yuu flirted cheesily, watching Mika’s eyes widen a touch. That’s right, he could flirt too. All that ‘Yuu-chan’ business had no power over him now. “But sure, hit me up with what you want to try.”

Mika’s eyes sparkled delightfully, a challenge in his smile. “What’s your poison, then?”

Yuu raised a brow. “Well, I’m a black coffee kind of guy-”

“Because you grind so fine?” Mika interrupted him, like he didn’t just say the sexy pick up line for Yuu.

He gave Mika a Look, Mika merely batting his eyes back at him. “Double shot, nothing extra.” Maybe a bit of hazelnut when he really needed a pick-me-up. “That’s my coffee.”

“A ‘keep me up til two AM’ kind of guy, I like that.” Mika snickered.

“Stop it,” Yuu cautioned. Only he was allowed to use terrible puns like that.

“Make me,” Mika downright dared him, leaning over the counter a little more.

Yuu grabbed his chin and looked him in the eye, a spark of victory gleaming in his emerald gaze. “Keep it up and we’ll see where it gets you, gorgeous.”

Mika’s pupils dilated.

Yuu smirked at him and let go, picking up the docket sheet. “So, coffee order? You’re holding up the line, babe.”

Mika beamed, a smile like spun sunshine. “You know what, I think I’ll go for my usual after all. But maybe next time I’ll be a bit more daring.”

“Sure you will.” Yuu winked at him. “Later, beautiful.”

Mika laughed as he went to his favourite booth, Yuu internally high-fiving himself as he went. That went excellently.

Okay. Next time he’d ask him out. Next time for sure.

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

Today was the day. It was absolutely the day. Today for sure.

He handed Mika his coffee, got ready to say ‘I love you give me your number’, and chickened out when he realised that was absolutely not the way to ask and would instead plant him straight in ‘ultra creep’ territory.

Next week. Next week for sure.

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

Yuu looked up from wiping down the counter, groaning as Shinoa came in. “Aren’t you meant to be on your day off?”

“Well, yes,” Shinoa smiled far too innocently, and Yuu’s hackles went up with suspicion. “But my dearest friend has been telling me ALL about his new favourite café, so I had to come by and see it.”

“Shinoa, you work here.” Yuu glared at her.

“He doesn’t know that,” she smirked, eyes sparkling mischievously. “I never say names, my darling Yuu.”

“I never agreed to you calling me that.”

“I don’t care.” She swanned up to the counter, propping herself up on her hands and tiptoes. Yuu scowled as she smeared her hands all over the area he’d literally just wiped clean. “Now gimme free coffee.”

“Fuck off. Employee discount only and even then I’m debating making you pay full price.”

“You’re so mean,” she pouted. “And when I’m buying for my friend as well. I think you’d like him, as much as a big meanie like you can like anyone.”

“I like people, I’m not Kimizuki,” he rolled his eyes. “Who’s your damn friend?”

“Oh, you might know him.” Her evil grin came back full-force, making her look downright demented. “Why don’t we see if you can guess from his order?”

“Do you know how many customers we have?” Yuu snapped a tea towel at her hands. “Hands off the counter, you’re probably infested with something.”

“Boo you.” She huffed and raised her hands, twiddling her fingers as she did. “Anyway, I want a multi-mega mocha milkshake with extra sprinkles and four shots of coffee. Oh! And whipped cream. Lots of it.”

“You’re going to die from a caffeine overdose and I will film it.” He wiped the counter down again out of spite.

“Maybe so, but at least I’ll die not hopelessly pining for some boy who takes, oh, what was it now?” She tapped her chin, looking deep in thought. He didn’t buy it for a second, especially not when she turned a vicious smile onto him. “Oh, right, skinny vanilla latte. Large.”

He wondered what the hell kind of expression he made that had her cackling like the wicked witch she was. “You gotta be joking.”

“Nope, and remember, on the cup for that one, my friend’s name is Mik-ae-la~” She sounded out the name, taking too much joy in it. “And make it fast, sweetcheeks, he’s going to be here soon.”

“I hate you with every blood cell in my body.”

“Make sure to put one of your cute little pick-up lines on that now,” she winked. “I’ve been reading them whenever I take out the trash. You’re so desperate it’s cute. Now shoo shoo, make me coffee, coffee man.” She flicked a hand at him, revelling in the power that a customer had. Shit like this was why she was banned from interacting with the general public at work.

“Sure thing. I’ll bring your drinks out to you,” he forced out through a smile, teeth grinding together as he gritted them. His eye may have twitched. He wasn’t sure.

She twirled around and skipped to her seat, spinning her favourite little trinket in her hand and making the green and orange lights on it flare up like she was at a rave. He tried to stare a hole through the back of her head before he set about making her the drinks she ordered.

Mika. Mika was friends with Shinoa. It was a testament to how in love he was with that guy that knowing Mika willingly hung out with Shinoa did not become an immediate turn off. He liked her too, sure, for whatever was left of his sanity’s sake, but she was still a pain.

He heard the little bell above the door jingle and glanced up, his heart skipping a beat when he saw Mika waving at him. “Hey Yuu,” Mika grinned, sounding way too proud of himself.

“Hey Mika,” he smiled back, unable to stop himself from getting all soppy at the edges. “Skinny vanilla?”

“You bet,” he winked at Yuu and sauntered off to sit with Shinoa, the two of them immediately starting up some sort of gossipy conversation judging by the hand motions and expressions.

He looked down at the drinks he was plating up, took a deep breath, and furiously scribbled a puntastic pick-up line and his number on the napkin under Mika’s coffee. This was it. He was going to do it.

“I am not a coward,” he muttered to himself, picking up the tray and carrying it over. “That was a multi-mega mocha milkshake with quadruple shots, extra whip, and sprinkles, and a large skinny vanilla latte?”

“She’s having the deathshake.” Mika pointed at Shinoa, who fluttered her eyelashes at him.

“No problem.” Yuu set the drinks down, trying to ignore how he could hear his heartbeat thundering in his eardrums like the bass beat of a good metal concert, keeping on a smile that was at this point reserved only for Mika. “Let me know if you need anything else.”

“Will do,” Mika reached for a packet of sugar and dumped it into his coffee, picking up his spoon before his hand froze, sapphire eyes tracing over the wickerscratch handwriting on the napkin.

Are you an espresso? Because you’re a shot to my heart. Call me?

Mika blinked up at him, Yuu frozen in place with the sort of calm that only came from blasting beyond panic and landing in the cool grey apathy of total nerve-ridden shutdown.

Shinoa snorted, the sound snapping Yuu out of his quiet reverie. “Uh- I mean, unless you want to kinda- not to be a creep or anything, but we could-” he paused when Mika put a finger over his lips.

Mika’s smile was soft as silk. “I like movies?”

“Movies. Right. I’m off at eight?” No way no way no way-

“Eight sounds great,” Mika’s grin became a bit toothier. “I’ll meet you out front?”

“It’s a date?” Yuu smiled hopefully.

Mika grabbed the front of his apron and kissed his cheek. “You bet it is.”

“Great!” He gave him a thumbs up, practically floating back towards the counter with a sunshine smile all his own.

He heard Kimizuki scoff from the overpass at him. “What coffee shop fanfiction bullshit is this?”

Yuu ignored him, too happy to even care. Best workshift ever.

[whatdoyouexpectthistime]

Blood Spatter - Part 5

Part 1 : Part 2 : Part 3 : Part 4

________________________________

Eyes and bodies turn; villains and victim peer through the dim at a figure leaning casually against the wall on the other side of the alley several metres away. Everything about him screams nonchalance – the setting, the setup, the characters, none of it seems to concern him.

Languidly, he tips his chin up, revealing an unnatural light in the green depths of his eyes.

Everyone is unsure, except him.

The moment is his, the alley, the city, the night – all his, and this confidence dares anyone to disagree.

I take this moment of distraction to attempt an escape, not wishing to let the opportunity slip by, but the back of my neck is snatched the moment I put this thought into action.

The world is a sudden blur of colour and sound, and I do not blink: not once.

Kiril’s cashmere coat flutters dramatically as he slides between the men, the cape of a hero pounding out great splashes of blood with his fist, driving teeth into flesh and ripping through veins until three men have fallen and do not move.

I do not blink: not even now, Kiril standing before me, his ludicrously stoic face a smear, his lips parted and stained.

“Now’s the part where you release her and beg for your miserable existence,” Kiril drawls, before the tip of his tongue touches the sharp point of a far too long canine tooth.

“That’s… not going to hap…” the remaining ‘man’ says, but his voice dies as Kiril sounds out behind us, even though he’s still plainly right before us.

“Wrong answer,” he whispers in the man’s ear, causing him to flinch.

And flinch again, tumbling me on hands and knees at Kiril’s feet.

Looking up – he’s there.

Looking back – he’s…

My mouth drops open in silent horror as Kiril squeezes his fingers tightly where they’re protruding from my attacker’s chest, his heart still in Kiril’s grip until it drops to the ground with a sickening splat. A few seconds later, the last body joins the rest, and I am alone with this monster wearing Kiril’s face. 

“Let me…” I begin, wanting to struggle and shriek, but finding my limbs heavy and resistant.

“Come on, Miho,” he breathes, paradoxical tenderness in the eyes of a murderer. “Just sleep, and everything will be alright, I promise.”

“You… promise?” I hiss, but he’s holding all my weight now. “Don’t… don’t…”

I don’t remember finishing my sentence. Nothing makes sense, while maybe it makes sense now more than it ever did. Kiril’s face is so close to mine, pressed up against the wall somewhere in London, blood on his tongue – my blood – but his name is Alex, and Narumi shouts at him from somewhere nearby.

Teeth and eyes and blood.

So much blood – because of Konstantin? Because I chased him?

In the black, it falls into place.

It’s so typical for me, to wander – no, charge – into a situation so blindly I don’t see the vampire for the trees; but for some reason I’m not nearly as surprised by this revelation as I should be.

The coldest part now, is realising if Kiril is a bloodsucker, then Konstantin probably is too.

“Jazz.”

“Jazz!” I exclaim, sitting bolt upright in a room I recognize.

In bed, in my suite, I’m dressed in my nightgown, and the outfit I was wearing is hung up on the outside of the carved, wooden wardrobe.

“She’s not here,” Kiril says, and my head snaps to the chair beside the bed where I hadn’t even noticed he was sitting.

“Why did I even wake up?” I wonder, and though Kiril’s head tilts the slightest bit, his expression remains sombre.

“I have no desire to kill you, Sparrow,” he declares, unmoving as I slip out the far side of the bed; not that I think a simple piece of furniture could stop him from zapping in behind me and crushing my spine.

“Or crush your spine,” he adds, simply watching me. “Honestly, I don’t wish you any harm.”

“Oh really?” I spit, far more vehemently than I intend. “Antagonising a vampire is hardly a good idea.”

Then I think about all the times we’ve been together alone, how I’ve acted and spoken to him.

“You remember now, don’t you?” he prompts, somewhat of a rhetorical question. “How is your head?”

“I just watched you slaughter four guys, slaughter,” I reiterate, my hands moving to animate my statements in macabre fashion.

He has washed and changed his clothing, and though he is no longer covered in blood, I can still see it patterning his pale skin.

“And you’re asking how my head is?” I continue, exasperated. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“Does it seem like I am?” he asks, so bland now it’s hard to resist the urge to smack some emotion into him.

Which brings back the memory of me slapping him in that expensive café.

“That’s right,” he nods. “If I wanted to hurt you, you’ve given me ample motive and opportunity.”

“Stop that!” I snap, swiping my arm through their air. “Stay out of my head; I knew you were in my head.”

In long, agitated strides, I pace across the room and back again, and finally Kiril rises.

“That’s not the only place,” he adds simply, and I spin and point viciously.

“Don’t you FUCKING DARE pull that shit!” I roar, apparently losing all sense of self preservation. “You’ve been dangling Konstantin in front of me like a carrot since I met you, playing some sick game- why? What the hell do you gain from messing with me like that?”

“Because you remembered,” he answers flatly, his single step in my direction bursting my bravado and sending me scooting back. “The mind-splitting headaches, flashes of a past event, of faces and names; something you shouldn’t have recalled.”

“Alex,” I shudder out. “He attacked me for asking about Konstantin and he…”

Kiril’s brows lift.

“He licked me,” I swallow, “and then he was…

“Hmph,” Alex grunted, leaned closer to Miho’s throat, inhaling deeply before slithering his tongue over the slowly oozing wound he found there.

Though Miho drove her free hand up under his chin, Alex tossed her aside, and she cartwheeled.

“Now that’s a nifty secret, hunter,” he snarled, about to pounce once more, when the back exit of the club opened abruptly, and a woman appeared in the doorway.

“I see,” Kiril nodded slowly, knowingly, and took another step forward.

“Just, stay right there!” I command, but my voice is trembling.

And Kiril is no longer before me.

Instead, his arms wrap around me from behind.

“Get off!” I bellow, wriggling and writhing like a mad cat, but at the same time my skin is suddenly singing.

“Stop struggling, Miho, you’re not in danger here,” he hisses, his cool breath tickling my ear. “Damnit please, relax.”

My body freezes, and it’s only half because Kiril’s entreaty actually sounded genuine. I watched him spit out a chunk of a guy’s neck, punch another’s heart right out of his body – I should be petrified, and I am – but at the same time, the clench of his arms and the pressure of his body against mine, the press of his face over my shoulder and his lips so close to my skin, fires shocks of wanton anticipation all through me.

“What did you do to me?” I rasp, feeling his arms loosen a little. “You’re a murderer, you just…”

“I didn’t do anything to you,” he growls, one hand sliding up my throat to rest lightly under my chin, “but I don’t think I’ve ever wanted anything more.”

“Kiril, let me go,” I plead, but the sensation of his exhale against my neck makes me shiver, and weakens my legs.

“In case the guys in the alley weren’t enough of a wakeup call, you’re in over your head,” he rumbles, turning me to face him. “Konstantin and Jazz are one thing, but you are in danger if you pursue this, more than you know.”

“Apparently I don’t know anything anymore,” I blink tearily, but Kiril’s expression isn’t sympathetic, it’s… pained?

“If they discover what you are, even Narumi,” he says softly, one thumb stroking along the line of my jaw, “they will kill you.”

“They? And you?”

“If I wanted that, you’d be dead,” he points out, and I have to concede the point; he’s had plenty of opportunities, and yet his touch now is so gentle.

Of its own accord, my head turns into his touch, but my stomach is a violent, churning squall of conflicting emotion.

“Please, Kiril,” I beg, reaching out with my eyes, “just let me go – if what you say is true – I need space, and I can’t think while you’re…”

“That’s just it,” he frowns, but it’s not by me he’s confused. “I don’t want to let you go. I want to feel your warmth, hold it closely, hold it safe.”

Thankfully, despite his words, he steps back, rubbing at the back of his neck, while I find the edge of the bed to sit down on before I fall down.

“Vampires is a lot to drop on a girl,” I murmur, watching him pace to the window and then back to the middle of the room. “And the chosen one too huh? Brilliant.”

“Hardly the chosen one,” he sniffs, a sharp sound I can see he immediately regrets. “And I cannot be one hundred percent sure, not yet, not without…”

His expression is now imploring, but he’s also holding himself back: me too. I both want him to tackle me against the mattress, but need to him to stay away.

“Without…?” I prompt, but I already know I’m not going to like the answer.

“Without tasting you,” he answers plainly, honestly, and though his posture could be called relaxed, I see his eyes flicker with desire.

I know he’s talking about my blood – that is what vampires are about after all – but I cannot help but blush, and squeeze my thighs together a little tighter.

“And what would that prove exactly?”

“Every person tastes a little different,” he answers, his hands unfolding as he provides some crucial exposition, “and the older I get, the more I can tell about a person: intricacies of their health, hints of the genetic heritage, and if they are entirely human or not.”

An exhale explodes from between my lips.

“So, the vampire is telling me I’m not human?” I balk.

“I suspect, strongly, you’re not entirely human,” he agrees, hazarding to slowly move toward the bed at the far end. “You were attacked,” he continues, sitting down a good five feet away, “by one of Konstantin’s friends, I suppose you could call him, and Narumi stopped him from killing you.”

“The woman from the police station,” I mutter. “She’s a vampire too?”

Kiril confirms this with a nod.

“And it’s her job to clean up mistakes like Alex made,” he adds.

“I remember being somewhere after that alley,” I admit, “and her voice.”

“We don’t go about killing people,” he says. “We will make you forget anything that might be problematic for us.”

“But I remembered.”

My lip bears the brunt of my bubbling anxiety.

“Regular humans don’t just shrug off power like Narumi’s,” he nods slowly. “It’s not possible.”

“Did you? Have you ever messed with my head?” I ask, and Kiril doesn’t look ashamed.

“I forced you to sleep last night,” he admits. “But if I had changed any of your memories, you would likely have remembered by now.”

“So you,” I inhale, “you didn’t make me…”

“Make you what?” he prompts.

“Ugh, make me want you so stupidly!”

And the moment after I think that ridiculously loud thought, I realise he’s been hearing the inner workings of my mind since we met.

Oh yeah, he’s grinning.

“Believe me when I say it is taking all my self-control to keep my distance,” he declares, turning a little. “But I will wait until you trust me.”

“Would you trust you?” I ask, swallowing the lump in my throat.

“To protect something important to me? Absolutely,” he affirms without a second of hesitation. “And knowing you, you will need protection.” 

“Knowing me, huh?” I chortle. “When did we meet again? How much could you possibly…”

“I know you’re relentlessly loyal,” he interrupts. “Sassy and sharp-witted, tenacious and principled despite your ‘madam of the club’ façade, and a tactile, passionate woman, who has been haunting me for far longer than you think.”

“The hell am I supposed to say to that?” I think, and again I see Kiril’s lips twitch. “If you want me to trust you, you can start by staying out of my head,” I scowl reproachfully.

“You’re all but broadcasting,” he defends, “when you’re thinking about me.”

Burning – oh yeah, my face is flaming.

“I could try to teach you to be more guarded,” he offers.

“But I’m not a vampire… am I?”

Kiril shakes his head and rises again, making his intention to approach me clear before he does- and I let him; I know I shouldn’t, but I let him.

“You,” he says, looking down at me, his shadow casting cold over my exposed skin, while the light at his back makes him glow divinely, “are something I should kill right now, before you can become a real danger, to me, to my kind.”

My lips part to respond, in fright, in my defence, but the feathery touch of his thumb against me, silences the words before they can emerge.

“Fully awakened hunters are immune to the mind manipulation of many preternaturals – vampires included – and can detect our true identities no matter how human we look.”

“I didn’t,” I admit, but his thumb presses more insistently.

“Because you’re not awakened,” he clarifies. “And if I have anything to do with it, you never will.”

Gently, slowly, his thumb opens my mouth, and without even thought, just base instinct that somehow overwhelms that of survival, my lips wrap around it. The moist warmth of my tongue touches him tentatively, and for a second before the horror of my actions hits me, I suckle provocatively against the very tip.

My backward flinch is jarring, my eyes wide, and I’m shaking my head like that can dispel the pheromone laced fog controlling my actions.

“I’m sorry, I…” I shudder out, my body crying out for me to taste him far more, but my mind shrieking grave warning. “I hate this, I hate feeling like, like someone else is controlling me actions!”

Calmly, Kiril watches, his fully clothed legs brushing lightly against the dangle of mine.

“You can’t seduce me like this,” I growl adamantly, and it’s Kiril’s turn to shake his head.

“I told you, what you feel for me is my doing.”

Frustrated, I stand and shove him away so I can begin pacing again.

“What am I supposed to do now, huh?” I eject, throwing up my hands. “Lions and tigers and bears, and I want to just rub myself all over one.”

Clearly, Kiril was struggling not to smirk.

“Stop that!” I tell him once more, slashing the air with my hand. “I came here to find Jazz, not to get all tangled up in your bullshit.”

“Then that is what we do,” he asserts. “ The men who attacked you were locals, which means just as you did in London, your search for Konstantin aroused interest.”

“Well it’s a little late to ask them what they know,” I point out.

“They were asking you for information,” he points out, “which suggests they didn’t know he was here. That doesn’t mean, however, that the Prague’s gentry is unaware.”

“Given they attacked me, is said gentry likely to part with any information they might have?” I frown, but Kiril sniffs with arrogant confidence.

“Arno will deal with me whether he likes it or not,” he states, “I just need to make a call or two.”

Miho took a long shower while Kiril made his phone calls. She didn’t know or care who he was talking to; the last thing she needed to do was add to the mountainous pile of unbelievable she’d be blindsided with. Some of it she just knew, even though she didn’t know how she knew – a voice deep within told her Kiril was not lying, not about vampires and not about herself being an unawakened hunter. Surprisingly, it was the inexplicable attraction she felt toward Kiril – despite everything – that vexed her the most. As the warm water caressed her body, she replayed all the times they had been in close proximity – and shuddered, her hand sliding between her legs to press against the aching of her clit.

“Not good,” she sighed, her head leaning against the glass wall as she rocked against her hand.

Even as she relished the burgeoning pleasure, a part of her remained deeply concerned by the mental image she’d created of Kiril nuzzled in behind her, his hands on her, in her.

And she really hoped he couldn’t hear her thoughts from the other room.

“Feel better?” Kiril enquired, when Miho finally emerged from the bathroom, fully dressed and preened.

Praying he took the flush in her cheeks as heat from the shower, she nodded, but her attention was soon drawn to the wafting scent of coffee and a tray of various consumables.

“Your stomach was growling,” he smiled, tipping his chin in the direction of the table.

“It was not,” she huffed, but moved to pour herself a mug just the same.

“Oh? Then I suppose you were growling for another reason?” he posed, one eyebrow raised provokingly. “Hm, perhaps not growling, maybe moaning is a little more accurate.”

Miho blinked, then rallied.

“Well, if I was it certainly had nothing to do with you,” she sniffed, casually filling her mug and grabbing a slice of fruit. “So, what’s the plan?”

Better to stick to business.

“We’ll walk right into Arno’s court and politely ask for his assistance,” he replied, not looking the slightest bit daunted by his suggestion.

“Is that really the wisest idea, considering you just killed four locals?” Miho asked sceptically, surprised by how good her appetite was considering the traumatic events of the previous night.

With a shrug, Kiril rose from his seat, thrusting his hands into his pockets.

“Arno is old,” he admitted. “That’s Europe for you, but the old world doesn’t hold nearly as much sway as it used to.”

“Okaaay,” she agreed, taking a sip before continuing. “But this we business. Before, you were all ‘Oh I should kill you because you’re a hunter and you need to be protected’, and now you’re suggesting I march down the throat of a vampire court? That doesn’t seem all that smart.”

“So long as you behave like you’re under my thumb, everything will be fine,” he told her, and now looked mighty pleased with himself.

“I am not under your thumb,” Miho ruffled, glaring at him over the rim of her mug.

“And this defiance is something I admire in you,” he nodded, “you never cease to entertain, but unless you want me to leave you here, you’re going to have swallow your pride for a little while and play like a good little pet.”

Grinding her teeth, Miho considered being stubborn by refusing to go, but it seemed she was getting closer to finding Jazz, and did not want to just leave it to Kiril.

“Fine,” she grumped.

“Understand, Miho, a false step here could me we both end up as little more than unrecognisable fragments of flesh,” he explained frankly, though he didn’t appear fazed by this prospect. “I can hold my own, make no mistake, but at the centre of Arno’s kingdom, he definitely has the advantage.”

“Kingdom,” Miho repeated. “So what? Vampires follow a monarchical hierarchy?”

“In some countries, yes,” he affirmed. “In others, it’s a matter of who has the most power and who can cling to it.”

“Not big on democracy huh?” she sniffed, finishing off her coffee and placing her mug back on the tray.

“Well, the human world messes that up enough for everyone,” he expounded with mild amusement. “And no matter how much power within our own we hold, we cannot help but be in some way influenced by the machinations of human politics.”

“And in the UK?” she prompted, taking another piece of fruit before moving slowly around the table to the other side; another piece of furniture between them.

“Monarchy,” he affirmed, but his lips remained parted as if there was more.

“And? Come on, the time for secrets is over,” Miho urged, emphasising her statement with a pointed look.

“And, do you remember when I warned you not to pursue my father?” he replied, not having to say much more for her to cotton on.

“Seriously?” she coughed, shaking her head. “Your dad is the king of the UK?”

“I’ll spare you the indignity of calling me your Highness,” he smiled. “At least in private.”

“Oh for fuck’s sake,” she sighed shakily, casting her mind back to the business dinner and the whole thing with the man named Hardwick. “I feel like I’ve been walking around with my eyes closed.”

“Don’t be so hard on yourself. It’s normal not to see that which defies the well accepted status quo,” he philosophised, glancing at his watch before looking back up. “Shall we go?”

With two loud cracks, Miho tilted her head from one side to the other, then levelled her gaze at Kiril – eyes brimming with determination.

“I’m ready.”

Continuing to smile, perhaps a little too genuinely for Miho to actually believe it was genuine, Kiril watched her snatch up her bag and head for the door.

“You’re going to need this,” he told her softly, and before she could look away from the door, she felt the light pressure of her coat folding over her shoulders, Kiril’s hands smoothing down her arms a second later.

The gesture caused her to shiver, made parts of her clench so tightly she’d leaned back against him like it was the most natural thing in the world.

“Stop that,” she hissed, his thumbs stroking her upper arms, but she hadn’t straightened, nor reached for the knob… the door knob.

“This, whatever this is, is as difficult for me to resist as it is for you,” he whispered, then reached around her to open the door. “After you.”

Far from the pretentiousness of his usual limousine, Kiril has already called ahead to have a city taxi waiting for us out the front of the hotel. Like a gentleman he opens the door and sees me comfortably inside, before joining me in the back. I’m not stupid, I haven’t forgotten the things I’ve just learned or seen, but Kiril’s right – the attraction between us is unlike anything I’ve ever felt, and it demands I touch him, feel him and that I let him have the same of me. Fighting it is exhausting, even if my logical mind tells me I should not be putting myself in the path of a killer, a predator, all for the tingle of my nethers.

“It’s not just for that,” I tell myself sternly, as Jazz has always been my number one priority.

Denying how much I want Kiril to take me right there in the back of this cab, however, is becoming more and more difficult.

Our hands brush.

I blush like some ridiculous otome ‘heroine’ whose only exposure to grown men is her stern and uptight father. Trying so hard to rein in the raging fire in my face, I completely miss Kiril stating our location to the driver, but try to piece together our destination from what landmarks I’m familiar with.

“Relax, Sparrow,” Kiril instructs, leaning his shoulder against me a little, and it’s only when his hand touches mine again that I realise I’ve made tight fists. “You don’t want them to smell blood in the water.”

“If they do,” I hiss quietly, “it’ll be because you spilt it everywhere.”

“Do I win no points at all for saving your life?” he wonders aloud, and I think, I think, there is a hint of sadness behind a giant wall of irritability.

“Okay, I’m sorry,” I concede. “You’re bloody Batman, and you totally saved my ass from getting it handed to me.”

Surprisingly, he doesn’t press for more.

“Actually, you may just have given them a challenge,” he declares, and I turn my head to find his so very close to mine. “There is a part of you sleeping, yes,” he goes on, “but your instincts seem to be surfacing – the unnatural angle of one thug’s arm attested to that.”

“What’s an arm to a…” I grunt, but catch myself before saying the v-word. “It was a reflex.”

“Exactly,” he smirks. “Just remember to hold off on those when we are inside, and leave the talking to me.”

“With pleasure,” I agree, and look down when Kiril slides his fingers through mine – skin as cold as the grave. “Kiril,” I begin, slowly. “If Jazz isn’t dead, I mean, if Konstantin didn’t… if she’s been with him this whole time…”

My unspoken question terrifies me – as much as I want the answer, what it might mean could change everything.

“Let us make no assumptions,” he replies, a warmth of reassurance in that simple sentence that makes me forget the iciness of his flesh. “There is no going back for either of you, but this is hardly an end.”

Caught off guard by this tenderness, my mouth gapes, and I see Kiril’s eyes flit to my lips.

“Assuming he didn’t just kill her and flee the country,” I point out breathily, my heart a thundering rapid flush with adrenaline.

“Konstantin and I are worlds apart,” he reveals, his face inching slightly closer. “My brother is all heart.”

“And you?” I exhale, barely audible even as such close proximity. “What are you… all?”

For what seems like an eternity, all the sounds of the world beyond our bubble is hushed.

“Right now,” he answers, cool breath against the flush of my cheeks, “I am all self-restraint, Sparrow – and that is the only reason you are still clothed right now.”

There is a strange pressure behind my eyes as I try to break this spell I’m under, this quagmire that seems to hold me even stronger the more I struggle against it.

“I am not…”

“Liar,” he interjects, dipping his head forward, his forehead lightly pressed to mine, the tips of our noses touching, “and you cannot lie to me, or yourself.”

Taxi driver ex machina – the man clears his throat and I pull back to press myself against the window.

“Do you always play so hard to get?” he queries lightly, running one hand through his hair. “That isn’t the impression of you I’d formed from watching you at Pale.”

“Are you saying you took me for a slut?” I scowl, but even I know this question is a defence mechanism.

“I am saying, it seems out of character for you to deny yourself something you want,” he ripostes effortlessly.

“What I want, is my best friend back,” I state clearly. “Nothing comes before that.”

“Not good with multi-tasking?” he laughs, giving my hand a squeeze, and it’s only then I realise he’s still holding it.

“Don’t make this any harder for me than it needs to be,” I grumble, but do not reclaim my captive hand.

Kiril’s smile turns into grin.

“Hey, I believe that is my line.”

“Crude,” I snort, but the joke raises my spirits a little, unwinds a little of my tension – right up until the cab comes to a stop outside the Prague National Theatre.

I recognise its unmistakable architecture as Jazz and I have seen various shows there before, but I question why we’re here now. Kiril, meanwhile, exits and opens my door, offering me his hand.

“I figured he’d hang out in the Old Royal Palace,” I admit, as Kiril ushers me away from the closed main entrance of the impressive building, and around the corner to a far less obtrusive door.

“He has his own residences,” Kiril explains, glancing coolly about, nonchalance stamped on his countenance, “but here is where the king holds official proceedings and audiences.”

“So you booked an appointment with his secretary?” I ask, my stomach knotting as Kiril pounds an assertive fist against the tall wooden door beneath one of many stone archways.

“Something like that,” he grins, winking before adding one last reminder before the door opens. “Remember, Sparrow; here you are my subservient plaything – try not to think too loudly.”

“I’ll just focus on how absolutely you think I’m in love with you,” I volley quietly, before sobering up my expression at the appearance of a woman before us.

“Prince Kiril Lambert,” Kiril announces casually. “I am expected.”

The woman’s severe expression doesn’t alter, though she offers Kiril respectful bow from the waist. I’m sure some silence exchange takes place between them as she straightens, though she doesn’t so much as spare me a glance.

Trying not to allow my apprehension to show, I follow along behind Kiril as we’re led into the building, down a cool corridor and then to a brightly lit, plush room decorated in rich red and gold.

“If you would be so kind as to wait here,” we’re instructed, or more accurately Kiril is instructed – I may as well be invisible.

Questions bubble away behind my eyes, seeping through the cracks of my best intentions to seems focused on being Kiril’s ‘good little girl’, and I can tell because of the sharp look Kiril sends me.

“I will punish you,” he drops coldly, and I don’t have to feign how this threat – more like a promise – causes real fear to slither, to gather in my chest. “You are fortunate I deigned to bring you at all.”

“Of course,” I say quietly, lowering my head. “I apologise.”

Obviously dissatisfied with my nearly immediate transgression, he turns and pinches my chin.

“Do not embarrass me, Sparrow.”

It’s a performance, I’m okay with this, because in Kiril’s eyes I see none of the taunting arrogance I usually do when he’s teasing me.

“I would never,” I assure him, biting my lower lip, looking up at him from beneath my lashes.

Subservience is not my thing, but I’m no stranger to play-acting.

“See to it you don’t,” he sniffs, stepping away from me to the sound of a door opening at the other side of the room.

Though uninvited, Kiril strides confidently through into a much larger chamber, at the far end of which stands an ornate throne, upon which sits a lean man with a prominent hook nose, his thin hair silver at the temples.

In and of itself his physical appearance is unremarkable, but palpable waves of displeasure roll from the dais and crash into me; Kiril, however, remains as unaffected as ever.

“Thank you for granting me an audience as such short notice, King Arno, most honoured son of Josef Sovák,” Kiril greets in perfect Czech – not a word of which I understand.

Still, as he bows, I follow suit, lower and for longer than my ‘master’, and I so not seek eye contact.

Don’t want to make eye contact.

“If I did not know well enough of your family, Kiril Lambert,” Arno replies in English, though his accent is very thick, “I might consider some measure of truth in that statement. And you… despite your airs and graces, you are a wolf.”

I doubt very much his choice of language is for my benefit – perhaps more likely he wants to show Kiril he’s just as adept at English as with his native tongue – but this is merely conjecture.

“If only I could convince my father of as much,” Kiril smiled easily, while I want so much to cower.

Contemptuously, the Czech king grunts an undignified sound and points a thin finger directly at Kiril.

“Am I to believe you think me a fool?” he growls, grey eyes narrowing to nearly closed. “I should have you shipped back to your father in pieces for your brazenness, your audacity – to threaten me?”

What Kiril has threatened Arno with I am unaware, but can only think it has something to so with the phone calls he made before arriving. Whatever it is, everything about Kiril screams he is completely comfortable with his actions and in no way intimidated by Arno’s attempt to assert dominance in his own throne room.

“I’m making no threats,” Kiril disagrees, eyes forward still, even as doors on either side of the chamber open, and several figures enter, none of them looking all that pleased. “But I do have a grievance with you in need of recompense.”

“You have a grievance?” Arno chuckles darkly. “I suppose that is why several accountants under my employ cried out suddenly in unison and proceeded to panic?”

“Yes, that would be why,” Kiril smiles thinly, reaching slowly out to curl his fingers around the back of my neck and give me a little nudge forward. “I sent this one to find my brother,” he continues, and though his voice is sure, growing more and more displeased, I exert what feels like the limit of my willpower not to tremble. “And in no less than forty-eight hours she is set upon by while strolling your streets, and threatened for the very information she came in search of; I will not ask your pardon for expressing my annoyance at such a gross breach of etiquette.”

Kiril’s fingers against my nape are tense, but his grip is not tight. As he speaks his thumb grazes my skin, lightness of his touch re-centres my thoughts on him.

“Do not talk to me of etiquette, Prince Kiril, when you entered my city and spilled blood on my streets before so much as a glance of acknowledgement for courtesy and tradition.”

“That is true,” Kiril nodded, slowly drawing him back against him. “But, had I done so, she would be dead, and you and I would be having a whole other… conversation.”

Those figures around us shift; none of them are stupid, so despite dancing a semantic game, everyone is well aware Kiril just rolled into the court of the Czech vampire king and started making threats.

Any second now they’re going to pounce us both, and I’m going to end up even worse than the vampires Kiril slaughtered; his arm slithers over my hip and rests there.

“Let me make this as easy for you as possible in order to save time, effort, and further bloodshed,” Kiril goes on, his free hand making slow sweeping motions as he speaks. “In recompense for the attack against my assistant, I want your network to find my brother and his partner, and report their whereabouts to me. Following that, the four of us will return quietly to the U.K. and bother you no more.”

Arno listens in silence, but he looks about ready to lurch from this throne and permanently end the conversation. Those around us don’t blink, don’t move, but I can feel their stares crushing my chest, stealing my breath.

“I want this over quickly, so I can get back to my own affairs,” Kiril adds. “My economic machinations are merely insurance that I get what I’ve come for – something which should cause you no great loss considering the hostility my little Sparrow met with at the mere mention of Konstantin’s name. I would sooner not interfere with the financial stability of the Czech Republic’s ruling house to get my way, but as you’re probably aware, I am very used to getting what I want.”

“All except your father’s approval,” Arno sneers, but his is the only expression that alters.

“Well, you’re at least half right there,” Kiril shrugs, but doesn’t clarify which part. “So all that remains is your cooperation, and we shall leave.”

If I stood in Arno’s position, I would no doubt like to tear Kiril’s head off, especially in front of his ‘subjects’ – if that’s what they’re called. He has to somehow save face, but it’s obvious from his hesitation whatever Kiril did with regards to his finances is no small matter. How, exactly, he’s managed to corner this man, a king and older than him by Kiril’s own admission, I don’t know.

“Do not think for a moment,” Arno says finally, rising and stepping slowly from the dais, “I will forget your audacity.”

“I would not expect you to,” Kiril acknowledges, his fingers beginning to drum lightly against my hip. “All things have a price. I am sure, however, should you require my considerable influence in the future, I could find my way to be of your assistance.”

At this, Arno chuckles, a sound that rattles around between his ribs for a little before spilling from his lips.

“You would be wise to not stray too far from the power of the old world,” he warns, coming to stand before us, no more than an arm’s reach away from me. “Your love affair with humans, these fragile things…”

His eyes linger on me.

“… may be your undoing,” he finishes.

“No doubt you will fully enjoy the celebration that follows,” Kiril grins. . “I’ll leave arrangements to send you something suitable for such an occasion.”

“Keep your head down in Prague,” Arno commands coldly. “Leave details with Marika. If you are not out of the country within twenty-four hours of your brother’s location, I’ll kill you and take your little Sparrow for my plaything.”

“That sounds fair,” Kiril agrees, but his smile falters when Arno reaches out toward my cheek.

“You’d better hope…” he begins, but doesn’t finish before Kiril pulls me in behind him.

“But unless that eventration comes about,” he says frostily, eyes narrowed, eyes afire, “she belongs to one man, and he is most certainly not you.”

Amused, Arno tips his chin, satisfied at having apparently – finally – unsettled the intruder, but his eyes do not leave me. His gaze is nothing like Kiril’s, and in his eyes I can read the desire to humiliate, to punish Kiril, through me.

Leaving floods me with the kind of relief that leaves my legs weak, and on the street with Arno’s court behind us, I lean against Kiril who has not let go of me since Arno’s approach.

“Did you really just bully a king by threatening to bankrupt him? In front of his people? In his throne room?” I sigh, my hands gripping his coat lapels.

“Well I never used that word specifically, but yes,” he answers, wearing none of the weariness I feel. “I do not want to linger here,” he continues, “as it is clear you cannot be trusted not to rush off in a frenzy screaming Konstantin’s name.”

Those last few words spoken, Kiril pauses to consider them – his brows twitching.

“Ensuring Arno had no choice but to help us locate my idiot brother was the fastest means to our desired end, so I can get you back to England,” he adds, smoothing his hands from my shoulders to my elbows.

Before even thinking, I’ve dropped my head against his chest and exhaled a long breath.

“Will this really work?”

“If Arno wants to avoid complete bankruptcy and get me out of his hair as soon as possible, he will  have his goons scouring the city and beyond,” he assures, gently sliding his fingers through my hair.

And it feels so good I could almost forget that with a twitch he could break me in half.

Feels too good.

“Well, thank you, for putting yourself on Arno’s bad-side for me,” I declare, but avoid his eyes as I step back out of his arms.

“I am unsure he has a good side to be honest,” he chuckles, and this forces a smile from beneath the tension I’d been holding since waking up.

“So what do we do now? Just, sit and wait?”

Almost unconsciously I take both cell phones from my pocket: the one with a local sim card and my regular one.

The latter has several missed calls and messages from Sebastian, one from Mieke – the former has none, and I cannot help but cringe a little.

“Something wrong?” Kiril queries, leaning a little closer again.

“I want you to be honest with me,” I begin, chewing the inside of my cheek a little because I’m not sure what it means if I get the answer I suspect I will. “Sebastian warned me to stay away from you, vehemently; does he know?”

“Mr. Ross and I are acquainted in the most basic sense of concept,” Kiril responds, and it sounds like the words a politician might spout to avoid an uncomfortable truth.

“Okay, let me rephrase; I want you to be honest and clear,” I insist, narrowing my eyes at him, even as he moves to the curb to hail us a taxi. “Does he know you’re a vampire?”

“Yes,” he answers more in accordance with my guidelines. “He does.”

“No wonder he’s losing his shit,” I mutter, both sympathetic and irritated at the same time. “He knew there was a vampire in my club all this time and said… did nothing?”

“To be fair, Mr. Ross is in no position to reveal secrets,” Kiril says, and though the sentence itself literally attempts to exonerate Sebastian for his silence, the tone in which it is spoken conveys his disdain.

Turning this over in my mind, I just climb into the cab when Kiril holds the door open for me and we’re moving before I even know my destination.

“How?” I ask finally, shifting my whole body a little more sideways. “How does he know? Wait…”

It hits me.

“No way, Sebastian’s a…”

“No, he most certainly is not,” Kiril snaps back, glaring, and the sourness of his expression only deepens as I speak again.

“I suppose not,” I admit, reclining. “His hands are warm.”

And a split second later, Kiril has pulled off his dark leather glove and snatched up my hand.

Warm.

“This is new,” I note, as he threads his fingers through mine. “And now I know you don’t have to be so cold.”

He knows I’m not just talking about the temperature of his skin, but he doesn’t react adversely. Meanwhile, I – not being completely oblivious – note this revelation as an act of jealousy?

“So if he’s not a vampire then…” I begin again, but then Kiril untangles our fingers and places his hand against my thigh – even through my jeans the sensation threatens to chase away logical thought.

“I do not wish to talk of Sebastian Ross,” he states flatly, sliding his palm upward a little until I catch his hand and prevent its progress.

“You can’t end a topic by feeling me up,” I point out, but I’m simultaneously imagining the downward curl of his thumb riding further up between my legs.

“I am not ending a topic,” he argues lightly, “but beginning a new one, one your tensing muscles, your body, tells me you are aching to have.”

My fingernails dig into the back of his hand a little, but he seems to enjoy it.

“What a chauvinistic conclusion,” I huff, looking out the window at the passing city.

“But not untrue,” he points out with a smirk.

 Resisting Kiril’s presence, his allure, required constant vigilance and willpower on Miho’s part, especially when it became clear he didn’t mean for them to simply wait in her suite for the phone to ring. Instead, he further occupied her mind with an all access tour of the city.

Together they viewed a private art collection, ate lunch at the most exclusive restaurant in the city, shopped places Miho’s credit card would never have permitted, and after night had fallen ended up at Prague Castle well after visitors were no longer allowed on the premises.

“I’d ask if it’s okay to be here,” Miho whispered, following along one step behind Kiril, left by the hand, “but it doesn’t seem you care much for rules. Visitors aren’t even permitted in this area, let alone at this hour.”

“Do not fret,” he said at full conversational volume. “I happen to know the owner.”

“Oh, I suppose you’re on a first name basis with the president,” she scoffed, but a second later realised that wasn’t too far from the realm of possibility. “What are we doing here?”

“Dinner,” he answered, as they entered the second courtyard and continued their journey.

“Now you’re just showing off,” she muttered, passing by the soft rush of water in Kohl’s Fountain.

“Hardly,” he chuckled, quickening his steps until they had crossed into the third courtyard and were swallowed by the deep shadow of St. Vitus Cathedral.

Miho had seen it before during the day – magnificent - but now its sharp gothic features were swathed in a cold that made its tall spires feel like looming giants poised to crush them both.

“You have an overactive imagination,” Kiril noted, obviously amused.

“Oh really? Mr. Vampire?” she snorted, speeding up to fall in flush beside him. “I don’t think my imagination can afford to be active enough right now.”

“I suppose it is better you focus on that than other things,” he agreed, and it was only then Miho realised she hadn’t thought about Jazz since the morning, nor had she felt nearly as tense about the chances of finding her unharmed.

“Huh,” she murmured, freeing her hand in order to loop her arm around his, even as he so casually opened the doors of the Old Palace with his other. “Was all this, today, distraction by design?”

“Oh, getting you to let your guard down is plenty motive enough for me,” Kiril responded, closing the doors beside them and leading them through the dim building until a soft glow ahead peeked through the gloom.

Emerging into Vladislav Hall, a place for State gatherings, coronations and formal Czech affairs, Miho found a wide ring of grand golden candelabras creating a halo of orange light around a single, small table dwarfed even more so by the empty space of the high vaulted ceiling.

Suddenly breathless, she became unaware of Kiril’s attention gaze as they approached, two figures – a man and a woman dressed as waiters – standing motionless at attention nearby.

With a chivalrous flourish, Kiril separated from Miho and pulled out a chair at the table, upon which already sat fine crystal and gleaming cutlery.

“Sparrow,” he prompted, and with a quick nod, Miho took her seat.

“Kings have been crowned in this chamber,” Miho exhaled in awe, “and you arrange a private dinner like it’s nothing.”

“I would not say nothing,” he smiled, and for once there was no hint at all of smugness. “But what trouble it might have cost was well worth it for the expression on your face.”

“How am I supposed to survive this?” she sighed under her breath, glancing to the left of the waitress offered her the wine bottle’s label before pouring the near black liquid into an immaculately etched goblet.

What followed was a magical, dream-like dinner where everything was simply perfect. To Miho it seemed Kiril was on his best behaviour, effortlessly recalling the original construction of the Old Royal Palace in the ninth century.

“Ninth century?” Miho blurted. “You’re that old?”

Slowly, Kiril nodded.

“But that’s over…” she began, crunching numbers in her head. “Over eleven hundred years!”

“One thousand, one hundred and seventy-three to be precise,” Kiril corrected: no biggie. “I had reached the peak of my vampiric development by that stage, and was hungry to explore the world.”

“I can’t even fathom that,” Miho sighed as she laid her spoon in her empty bowl, and rested her chin on her hand. “All the things you must have seen and heard, the change.”

Nodding, Kiril smiled a nothing smile.

“Good and bad I bet,” Miho added, studying his expression.

“My upbringing was not like yours for a great many reasons,” he expounded. “Reasons I will not bore you with now.”

“Because I have so much on my plate right now,” Miho smirked, spreading her hands, but as she did, Kiril rose from his seat.

With his movement, a much greater light flooded the entire hall, and suddenly the empty chamber was bursting with life. Gaping, craning her neck to peer at men and women dressed in the finery of former centuries, Miho exhaled a small noise to express her puzzlement.

“One of my powers is to create illusion,” he explained, stepping around the table to offer Miho his hand. “Which is surprisingly useful.”

“Surprisingly?” Miho breathed, touching her fingers to the palm of his hand, and she quickly found her body hauled upward.

“Not everyone agrees,” he smiled, making a sweeping motion with his hand down the length of her body, and an immaculate gown bloomed around her like an opening flower. “Cinderella.”

“Holy shit,” Miho grinned, reaching out to touch the luxurious fabric, but her fingers passed right through to what she was actually wearing.

“Not real,” Kiril affirmed, pulling her forward against him to the swell of a grand orchestra.

Part Six

[charlottejade3-blog]

~Beauty Pop

Beauty Pop is a manga about a girl named Kiri who goes to school with the scissors project,  which is a group of three guys that are beauty gurus. She ends up befriending them, and the all go on crazy adventures making people beautiful.

(Side Note, this was one of the very first manga i read and it's very dear to my heart, it means a lot to me because it got me into manga and anime therefore its one of my favorites.)

Writing (8.8/10)

The writing for beauty pop was wonderful, everything was well paced and, you could tell the characters apart from the ways the spoke. All the arcs were very well paced and I never felt like it was going to fast or too slow, and it was always very intriguing to read.

Characters (8.7/10)

Kiri has always been one of my favorite female protagonists. She's not like one of the standard lead female protagonists where she's, clumsy, and a doormat, or super dramatic and, a crybaby. She's quite and a non-dramatic character with a mind of her own. She's very talented but never brags and she’s overall a great character.

Narumi or “Naru-Naru” is also one of my favorite male protagonist. I like how he very stuck-up and never admits defeat even when he's clearly lost but still stays true to his word and follows through on his promises. He also becomes a nice romantic which I also appreciate. 

Ochiai or Occhi was an okay character but I didn't really like him very much, maybe it's because “Kirumi” is my OTP but that's a different story 

Kei was a doll, i absolutely loved him. He was so relatable and was really good a comedic relief and, the fact that he was always eating just made him one of my favorites.

The rest of the cast was pretty good , I mean there was no one I really disliked. Kanako was a nice addition, Iori was funny and I liked Kenichiro and Chisami as well. The dad was cool and I felt a nice connection between him and Kiri and Billy annyond me at first but had some nice growth.

Artwork  (9.2/10)

The artwork for this manga was marvelous. Because it is a beauty manga there was a lot of different styles for hair and makeup and this manga portrayed  it perfectly, I never felt like I was seeing the same face for the main characters and, even the background characters have different styles of hair.

The backgroungs were nice and detail but not over the top like in others I’ve seen, and I really enjoy the style of art Kiyoko Arai uses.

Enjoyment  (9.6/10)

Like I said earlier this was one of the first mangas I read (It was actual my second , Noragami being first ) so it's very dear to me and, I got so much enjoyment reading this manga. It's a wonderful manga to read if you’re a beginner or if you just want a fun read. I’d say my favorite part is when Naru-Naru gives Kiri a “beer-bunny” instead of a “bear-bunny”.       

 Score (9.1/10)

[twinkle-twinkle-not]

Gakuen Alice: Orange Petal

<spoiler alert>

So I finished reading Gakuen Alice roughly around 1 or 2 years ago and just suddenly wanted to come and read it again since it was really good well not so for the ending because it felt like a cliffhanger *_*

What I want to talk about was where the part they concluded that Mikan has already used up her alice [Nullification Alice] and will have to expel her (this sounds so harsh) and erase her memories.

//I was like, 'what the hell? She saved the school and in return she has no memory of it whatsoever. Well, at least she is still remembered. Heh.//

So what if Mikan still has at least a l i t t l e bit of her [Nullification Alice] and no one knows--even she doesn't know it--and when it was time to erase her memories...

She suppress it with the little remaining power that she has.

.........

......

...

•_•

Well, okay. Little use of her alice can't suppress all of it BUT it can still be effective, am I right? Like holy shit. What if she still remembers but her memory didn't cover up that fact that she was expelled and that Hotaru is still y e t to be found //maybe she won't even remember that Hotaru sacrificed so m u c h for her happiness and Mikan would just think that she will meet Hotaru in time// then Goshima Hijiri <alias Shi-chan//Mikan's "childhood friend"> will be surprised and would try to contact Gakuen Alice but the fucking problem would be is that you c a n ' t c o n t a c t the academy so Goshima will still hide his identity and be a friend.

Bear would be surprised too, of course but will be happy because he's remembered.

Then Mikan, before forgetting any of it once again, writes it on a journal //everything that she remembers// and would be a storyteller to the people in her hometown saying it was like "The Adventures of the Orange Petal!" and people there would say that it was a really good story (though unreal because she still used 'alice' as 'superpowers' which they don't know about and it sounded like Orange Petal was a 'superhero') and spread it to all then a kid (let's just name her Key) in her hometown really loved her story and is actually an alice user too and is about to enroll to Gakuen Alice.

Before going to the academy, Key goes to Mikan's House (Shi-chan is visiting) and asked to tell her the story again because Key was going away to this school for specially talented girls like her. Mikan became sad because it reminded her of Hotaru and asked what school is it then Key would say, 'Mom said I shouldn't tell because it's a secret! But she said that it was similar to the school where 'Orange Petal' has gone to!' (Shi-chan looks over to Mikan watching her reaction, because he's SHOOKT)

So Mikan felt time stopped and smiled at Key. She retells the story in her view (y'know, first person) and Key, thinking it was a new way of telling the story, (with Shi-chan having a shocked face) noticed the ending was a bit off than the feeling she gave off when telling it earlier.

Or at least, the ending was rather new. Which made Shi-chan realize the reason why Mikan remembers.

Key thought it was a sad ending.

Mikan explained that the ending just came in and it wasn't really still an ending so she'll have it fixed when Key 'comes back' again.

Key then goes and enrolls to Gakuen Alice after being told by Mikan that Key should be in good hands because there's a person named 'Narumi-sensei' (which was like Orange Petals' sensei//because it's fking real) in that school.

So there we have it, Key gets to be fast friends in her grade level and there was this one time when Gakuen Alice held a 'storytelling contest' in which when your group wins, all of you can get to live as a special star for a day which made almost everyone was fired up to enter the contest.

Key entered the contest in hope that everyone will hear Mikan's story about 'Orange Petal' and only 5 people including her were left to tell their story on-stage.

She asks her fellow classmates to help her do the visuals which they happily did (for the reward) and Key, thinking that Mikan was Orange Petal in a metaphorical thought because she's in gakuen alice and all, made Mikan's appearance as the one playing as Orange Petal (//using one of her friend's alice)

The judges were Narumi-sensei, Shiki, Kazumi, Noda, and surprisingly, Natsume or maybe Ruka or maybe both (idk. I just thought it would be kinda cool).

So Key breathes in and out and told her story.

Everyone at first thought it was funny and a bit ridiculous.

But the higher levels thought otherwise when Key continued on.

The judges had this seriously priceless face. Natsume and Ruca being the ones with the most shocked faces.

Key was reading on a journal that Mikan wrote when she just came back. Yes, Mikan entrusted it to her in hopes that Key will write in it too. Everyone went quiet and listened diligently.

They knew it too well that it was Mikan's life that Key was telling but they were also wondering who told her that? Even the other parts were something that they didn't know, so how?

Natsume was ready to take Key off the stage and interrogate her. E v e r y o n e was ready to ask her many things.

But the ending was the most surprising to them.

It went like this:

'The school I had gone to became peaceful and my life was full of love because my friends are all smiling happily but that wasn't the only thing. I think I have used up my powers to save many people. It became gone like I didn't have any of it in the first place. I know, there's actually a rule in which I have to go away and they'll erase my memories because I don't have my powers. I had no choice but accept it. My life here in this academy was filled with tears and joy. When I was about to go away, everyone said goodbye to me. I am still wondering why that fire-powered guy haven't recovered, I didn't get to say goodbye to him. He and my best friend Hotaru were the only ones I didn't get to say goodbye to. I am pretty sure that Hotaru was working on her invention so she doesn't have any time to say goodbye. Oh but actually she did sent her regards to me during my sleep. Other than that, I said goodbye to everyone. Surprisingly, everyone came to say goodbye which really touched me. They said that there's a person waiting outside the gate for me so that he can erase my memories of this wonderful school. It was a painful but I had to go. I smiled and said to goodbye to everyone. When I had gone out to the gate, the person was waiting. He had his hand on my forehead and for a moment, I fainted. I woke up and found myself in my home, where I really should be. My grandpa teared up and I thought everything I saw was a dream. But then, I almost forgot about Bear who was inside my luggage. I opened the luggage and he was really there. The tears came rushing in and I hugged my grandpa with Bear in my hand. I concluded that maybe I still had my memories intact? How though? Then I told myself, I think it was because I still had my powers left within me that time and I succeeded in making many of the memory erasing powers off. I know that some of my memories are still forgotten. But I still remember the warmth of my forever friends' smiles. And I won't ever forget that because we will still meet once again and I promised that we will watch the sea together.'

The ending came in with a scene of Mikan smiling happily while writing all of it.

Everyone was quiet after hearing and seeing this.

//you know the drill.