#so this was originally just supposed to be Jacket Practice and maybe ill do a bit of that later

[todayisafridaynight]

call him cake cause he's got layers baby

[heyitsyn]

Manager!Seijoh Part 9

a/n: hehehe this was inspired by that iconic picture in pinterest of akaashi turning into a child

summary: you signed up to take care of grown teenagers who are capable of taking care of themselves-not children

for more seijoh content, check this masterlist out!

LMAO IS IWA KICKING HIM AND IS THAT MATTSUN SLAPPING HIS FLAT BUTT

so like,,,, you were at a complete loss

this was literally the last thing youd ever think of and you didnt even think it was possible for this to happen!

but before that

get in losers we’re going on a flashback

it was a wednesday so duh practice was normal after school

but you read on your weather app that it would be thunderstorming so you were worried on how the others would walk home and even texted oikawa if he could cancel the after-practice practice

but since the spring competitions were getting close, he wanted to get as much practice as possible, even sometimes doing monday practices, and the coaches were usually out the door once mandatory practice hours were over, letting the boys do more practice with no worry since you were there to handle it

the boys were in the gym practicing and stuff but you could hear the thunderstorms from the distance, the smell of rain already filling the gym

and you knew none of these boys owned or carried an umbrella with them so you were going to go and buy umbrellas for when they go home

‘you guys, ill be right back. im going to go to the store down the street, okay?’

the look you gave to iwa made him nod, knowing he was the one really in charged, since oikawa wasn’t really capable of handling everyone

‘i want to come’

kyo said but you stopped him, placing a comforting hand on his arm

‘ill be really quick so dont miss me too much’

‘come back soon, y/n-chan!’

‘be safe!’

iwa made sure you were bundled up with a raincoat and had your umbrella on hand before you went on your journey

ugh team moms have my heart

thankfully, the store had more than enough for the boys and you were trying to hurry because it was now raining heavily and you wanted to run back so they wouldnt worry

the cashier rang up your total and you were just giving her your card when a VERY BRIGHT LIGHTNING striked from the sky and a VERY LOUD thunderstorm rang in the distance

your heart thumped and it mightve just been your managerial instincts but you knew something was wrong

oh god oikawa must be freaking out right now since he absolutely hates thunderstorms

your worries were evident on your face so the cashier hurriedly handed you your bag full of umbrellas so you were able to sprint out of the door and too much in a hurry to even open your umbrella

the run to the school felt like it was a 10-mile run and when you finally ran towards the gym doors, you slowed to a speed-walk

but you froze

the lights were off and you could hear the screams of a child

well,,,,, more like, children

you entered the gym and fell on your butt in surprise

in front of you, were 9 toddlers who were thankfully covered by the now too-big clothing

they couldnt be over 3 and a half feet tall and looked like they were around 3 or 4 

‘i-i-iwa-san?’

you stuttered and reached a hand forward towards the baby with the black spiky hair but he cried louder, clutching on to the brunette baby

‘oh god’

you were finally starting to realize this situation

‘oh my god, what do i do’

you mumbled, standing up and panicked eyes wandering over each child

they were chibis

3 chibis were sleeping and you could tell each boy by their hairstyle

kunimi, yahaba, and mattsun were sleeping on top of the blue shirts and white shorts

kindaichi was hiccuping, seemingly done with his crying, while oikawa was bawling and screaming with iwaizumi holding on to his hand tightly, eyes also teary

makki was bleary-eyed and watari was just sitting there, eyes wide and lips parted but kyo, with hair turned to his original color yet the same sharp yellow eyes, looked on the verge of crying, hands reaching out to you

you immediately grabbed ahold of oikawa and you were thankful that their shirts were still over their tiny body

‘its okay, oikawa-san, its okay’

thunder rumbled again and this time, woke up the others in fright causing them to also start crying then the others started their own crying because everyone else was crying

you kept oikawa on your arms but ran to check on individual player

‘no,no,no! its okay! look! ball!’

you presented the stray volleyball next to iwaizumi and you guessed he was holding it before he transformed into this child form

‘IM SCARED!’

kindaichi shouted while sobbing and his loud voice startled yahaba even more and got him to cry harder making the others follow suit as well

‘oh no’

you whined and was slowly going crazy by the crying noises

you dont have any siblings so you never got the experience of having to take care of be around a toddler

maybe you should calm each child individually

that would work, right?

you remembered the method you used on oikawa once during training camp and you were hoping that his child self would still use the same calming routine

the speed you had to find your headphones and plug them in to your phone then his ears and playing the ‘big bang theory’ theme song was A S T R O N O M I C A L

you placed him in front of you and wiped the tears that trailed down his chubby cheeks while his little hands held on to your shirt

his cries started to slow down until it was just whimpers and you placed a kiss on his forehead when he finally quieted down

but while you were taking care of their captain, kyo was yelling at yahaba and making him more upset and cry even harder

‘MEAN DOGGIE!’

yahaba shouted and tried to hit kyotani but he hit him back

you pushed both children away and sat them down on their beehinds in front of you

‘no. we dont hit, yahaba-san, and we dont make fun, kyotani-san. time out for you two’

yahaba glared at the floor with tears pricking his eyes but one look from you made him hold it in and bite his lip

iwaizumi looked like he was finally getting ahold of himself as he was calmly sitting down with makki and mattsun by his side

you chortled when mattsun still possessed the same teasing smirk as he did when he was a teenager and his red eyes were now filled with mischief along with makki

iwa looked up at you with bright eyes, as if waiting for a reward or a compliment, and you swallowed your squeal before crouching across him and caressing his cheek

‘good job, iwa-san. iwa-san is a good boy’

he smiled, a smile youve never seen before, then snuggled closer to your palm

the only one really crying was kindaichi while kunimi and watari were also just sitting down

kindaichi’s sobs echoed throughout the gym and as you walked closer, you heard his stomach growl and you instantly knew how to calm him down

the sausage you picked up to feed the strays with kyo later was still in your bag so you peeled the wrapper about halfway and handed it to him

kindaichi stared at it and you had to guide it in his mouth to start eating just to ensure him it was safe and he could eat

the thunder seemed to have died down and all that remained was rain

the boys were starting to shiver from the cold and you were sure the heat in the gym was working before you left but now it wasnt because of the power shutting down

it wouldnt be good if they remained in this cold environemnt and you suddenly remembered that you were still soaked from the rain and was getting colder by the second

maybe it was the panic that shot up your adrenaline and didnt let you realize your own situation

each boy had their jackets thrown to the side but you quickly put it on them so you could bundle them up as best as you can

their shoes were too large for them so you ran to the storage room where there were plastic bags that you used to tie around their feet with their socks

iwa noticed your trembling body and he shakily stood up and ran over to you

you finished tying kindaichi’s bag when you noticed iwa standing there with his arms stretched towards you

‘hug’

he squeaked and you sniffled before wrapping him in your arms and holding him close to you

it seems iwa still possessed his protective instincts from before

by the time all the boys were ready, the rain thankfully reduced to simple sprinkles and you made everyone hold hands

the boys stood on a row in front of you and you seriously talked to them

‘no matter what, never let go of your friend, okay? even you yahaba, kyotani’

the two gave each other a glare but they still clenched each other’s hands

you grasped oikawa and iwa’s hands and the others formed a chain with mattsun holding iwa’s and makki holding oikawa’s and so forth

you figured you could just leave their bags in the gym so you were walking as fast as you could towards home where it would be warm and a safe place to figure out a plan

natsu has seen a lot in his years of living and from being in nekoma in general

but he has been shocked to see this

it was already late and your parents were both at some business trip and he knew you were supposed to be home already but you werent

he was about to call you when the doorbell rang and he figured it was just some person convincing him to be christian

he opened the door, exasperated and irritated

‘listen, im the biggest sinner that has ever-Y/N!’

he shouted in surprise 

there, you stood, shaking and red with a bunch of toddlers

what in the world

‘natsu. m-move’

you stuttered out and he couldnt help but do what you said and he made way for you and the little ducklings

the little boy from the back, the one with yellow eyes, glared at him as he walked past and natsu shook his head in disbelief

‘wha-’

you ran to the temp screen button thing bro i dont know what it is but i have something like an echobee thats like that to turn up the temperature in the house

the boys were still excitedly babbling on about some movie and they were singing songs 

‘PONYO PONYO PONYO-’

poor natsu just stood at the archway by the living room

‘oi, y/n. please tell me you didnt kidnap a bunch of kids’

there was no teasing tone, just pure confusion

you didnt look up from the temp thing and you configured it to rest at 75 degrees fahrenheit fyi

‘something happened. something weird and bad happened. it shouldnt even be possible but it did and im so confused and i dont know what to do’

you rambled and you turned to look at the kids

natsu noticed your frazzled form and he gently grabbed a blanket to drape over you so you could get warm and led you to sit on the couch

‘just tell me, babes. we’ll figure it out’

he reassured and you sighed

‘i-i,,, was g-going to the-the convience store to-uh-get some umbrelllas for the boys but,,, when i was there,, there was a big thunder and boomed and lightining and i knew,,,,i knew there was something wrong and something had happened so i ran back and then bam! i saw them as kids!’

natsu trailed over from your face to the boys and he started to piece together that yes, this was your team

the brunette boy he messed around with and the one with the adorable eyebrows

‘y/n,, babes,, did you dabble with voodoo? bad juju?’

he whispered and you almost cried

‘no! why would i?!’

‘THEN WHY THE HELL ARE THEY BABIES?!’

‘I DONT KNOW! IM NOT DUMBLEDORE!’

‘what are we going to tell their parents?!’

‘that their kids turned to babies?!’

‘yea right! might as well tell them the earth is flat!’

you both went silent for a bit before natsu sighed then turned to you

‘babes, go and shower. go and get warm while i take care of the kids. youre soaked and youre freezing and you’ll get sick. besides, they shouldnt be that bad, right?’

not even caring to answer that question and completely not hearing it, you nodded and groggily went to go bath

the boys saw you leave and they looked at natsu with either wide scared eyes or glaring eyes

especially the boy with the yellow eyes

natsu smirked

‘i know you. what was it? dog? crazy dog?’

there was clear offense in kyo’s face and he easily jumped to natsu’s lap and grabbed his hair to tug on it

‘yey! play time!’

oikawa shrieked and everyone shouted in agreement before joining kyo

natsu screamed as they punched his stomach and pulled his hair

you were in the middle of rinsing your hair when you heard the screams and you thought it was the boys but you recognized them as natsu’s

you continued showering

the boys were having fun beating up your cousin and natsu seriously wondered if you were taking your sweet time just to let them have their fun

‘oi! if you dont stop! i wont let you play mario kart!’

the boy with a middle part stopped tugging his hair followed by the one with the spiky turnip looking hair

‘maiyo,,,, kat?’

ALKSDFJLSDKFJDFKJDS BABY KINDAICHI STILL NOT BEING ABLE TO SPEAK PROPERLY

natsu saw them both stop and he excitedly sat up

‘yea! mario kart! you want to play mario kart?! oh my! its so much more fun than playing with natsu-nii!’

he didnt care what they wanted to do as long as it didnt involve him being getting beaten up so he quickly assembled the console and they all rallied around natsu as he set up the game

‘okay. we can play with 4 players at a time. who’s going first?’

there was a bit of hostility among the children as they turned their former soft gazes to hard and competitive looks

‘me!’

‘i wanna!’

‘me!me!me!’

‘stop it kawa-chan!’

‘iwa-chan ow!’

there was great uproar while natsu sighed in relief and leaned against the back of the couch, watching in amusement

there were punches thrown, some shoves, but they ultimately decided on players

begrudgingly it was kyo, kindaichi, mattsun, and watari

the others stayed behind with a pout on their lips and sulked

but as soon as they started playing, those sad looks disappeared and they scooted closer to watch it with interest

‘GO MAKKI! GO!’

‘KENKEN HURRY!’

the only one who wasn’t so in to it was the one with the spiky black hair and green eyes

‘hey, kid, what’s wrong?’

natsu asked and he didnt answer but just looked at him before turning to watch the tv silently

he was about to ask again when you appeared and the boys cheered at your arrival before turning back on the game

you were refreshed and you sat on the loveseat next to natsu’s place on the couch

‘they seem to be having fun’

you smiled but natsu crinkled his eyebrows then pointed to a figure behind the rest

‘the kid’s just been sitting there. i dont know if hes just like that or what but hes not really doing anything’

‘oh, thats just iwa-san. hes normally like that. look. iwa-san! can you please come here?’

at the call for his name, the boy perked up and he excitedly clambered over to sit on your lap

he leaned his back against your chest and you ran your fingers through his hair

‘why are you just sitting there, hm? do you not want to play?’

you spoke softly and he shook his head, eyes still on the match

‘friends are happy when playing. i like my friends. im okay’

despite the very child-like voice, there was a sense of maturity in there and you weren’t sure if they still carried the same memories as they had back when they were already teenagers

‘iwa-san, do you know me?’

you asked and he looked up to look at your face

then he shook his head

‘no’

you blanched

and so did natsu

‘so let me get this straight, kid. you let some random stranger take you to their house?’

iwa shrugged

‘she help me and friends. she nice’

you almost squealed but held back and you tightened your arms around him

‘youre sweet, iwa-san’

‘y/n, you could literally be charged of kidnapping right now’

natsu ruined the moment and you glared at him

‘im just trying out a way to help them. and besides, they couldve screamed and cried and ran out but they didnt so i didnt take them against their will’

natsu rolled his eyes before standing up

‘well, im hungry. and these kids cant exactly have take-out. imma go see if we have any food left’

he left you alone with the kids and you encouraged the others to win by cheering for them and smiling at the way they were laughing

man, no matter what age, you still love them

natsu peaked his head out from the doorway

‘we got dino nugggets’

you nodded

‘those should be good’

natsu returned to his spot on the couch and you stared at him

‘what? im too scared to do anything to the oven. remember when i broke the other one?’

you sighed and shook your head

iwa noticed you needing to get up so he was about to move when you placed him on natsu’s lap

‘iwa-san, natsu-kun will take care of you for now, okay?’

iwa didnt object but he didnt like it either

you were pressing the timer on the oven and you opened it to change the racks when you noticed a small figure and hands and feet trying to climb in

in shock, you dropped the rack and grabbed kunimi’s small body

‘kunimi akira! what were you thinking?!’

the baby’s eyes were half-lidded and he looked really tired and the oven was radiating warmth and he thought he could climb in it and sleep

but you knew that he would literally DIE 

you ran him back to the living room and natsu was shocked to hear of what happened

‘HUH?’

‘yea. so try and make sure none of them does something dangerous’

you pleaded and he nodded before taking kunimi’s hand and urging the kid to sleep on his lap instead

you were finally cooking the nuggets and while it cooked, you were grabbing any leftovers for you and natsu to eat

there was little bit of rice and some tonkatsu left so you heated that up and continued to cook until everything was finished

‘boys! natsu! dinner!’

at the mention of food, the kids dropped the controllers and raced to go to the kitchen

natsu trailed behind with a half-asleep kunimi in his arms and iwa who held his hand

‘FOOD!’

kindaichi and oikawa shrieked

you gave each boy their own portion of food and you gave natsu his dinner

‘to be honest, i was surprised we had enough nuggets’

natsu was surprised at the nuggets you still had in the freezer

you shrugged

‘at this point, im not even surprised at anything anymore. i think im just in a dream and im controlling it and somehow, the universe is bending itself to help me’

natsu stared at you as if you grew three heads before chuckling and returning to his food

however

there was no such thing as peaceful dinner with the boys

yahaba was crying that kyo took some of his nuggies

kunimi tried to have one bite of his chicken before toppling over to the side and falling asleep

mattsun was tricking makki by pointing somewhere and when the brownette turns, he would take a nugget

oikawa tried it and iwa almost fell for it but he caught his best friend in time resulting him to hit the choco-hair boy and making tooru cry from the booboo

you sighed, rubbing your temples

‘i swear. my head’

you whined and natsu patted your back before he disappeared somewhere, presumably his room, to get away from the madness

your temper was rising and with how exhausted youve been and the incoming cold you feel is making you irritated

‘BOYS’

of course they stopped as they got scared by your tone and if they were teenagers, they would have the same reaction because youve never used this tone on them

‘kindaichi, wake up kunimi. kyotani, matsukawa, eat your own nuggets. yahaba, oikawa, stop crying. kyotani apologize to yahaba for eating his nuggets and hug him. you too, iwaizumi apologize to tooru for hitting him and hug him’

‘BUT-’

the boys started but you shot them a look

‘NOW’

‘sorry’

they mumbled and they looked at you before going to give the other a hug

‘bakakawa’

iwaizumi mumbled and tooru was about to cry but you scolded iwaizumi again

‘iwa, we don’t call people stupid’

he stared at you then turned away, an obvious pout on his lips and pushed his plate away to sulk

wow 

is parenting this hard?

watari calmly ate his food and you smiled

you scooped him in your arms and you held him close

‘come on, everyone. when youre done eating, how about we watch ponyo? hm?’

as if they werent just sulking, they all cheered and abandoned their food to go running to the living room where you put the movie on

halfway through the movie, someone wanted something sweet

you had iwa on your right, mattsun on your left, watari on your lap and oikawa by your feet so you werent exactly at the position to make something

‘nee-chan, i want choco’

makki asked and you sucked in a sharp breath to calm yourself from how cute he was

you gently asked the others to move so you could go but they held on to a part of you

mattsun and iwa with your arms, watari holding your shirt, oikawa holding your leg

‘come on, guys.do you want choco?’

‘but-but-but’

oikawa blubbered

‘please dont go’

mattsun pleaded quietly

‘ill be back! i swear! please?’

begrudgingly, they let go and you stretched out your legs when you stood up then walked to the kitchen

as you opened the door, you were looking through something when you saw a reflection from the glass of a face

you shrieked and looked behind you, expecting some murderer but it was actually a line of the boys

it was like they followed you into the kitchen like ducklings following their mama duck

‘kyotani!’

you wheezed, seeing it was his face that you saw with those beautiful eyes

‘we missed you, nee-chan’

kindaichi whined with a small voice

you noticed that kunimi wasnt with the group so you assumed he was asleep on the couch

‘you scared nee-chan, boys. but it’s okay’

their puppy eyes made you cry inside but you ushered them to go to the dining room so they could wait there for their drinks

you poured chocolate milk for everyone except for tooru as he was lactose intolerant so you gave him chocolate oat milk

they brought the glass to their lips as you drank coffee and they lit up at the delicious taste

‘mmmm’

they giggled and you chuckled before reaching over to wipe makki’s top lip

‘thank you nee-chan!’

oikawa grinned and they all agreed

‘youre welcome. nee-chan will take care of you when you need it’

by the time midnight struck, you were already in a cuddle pile with the boys

they all fell asleep and you were being laid on by the others

natsu came down for water and saw you being smothered by bodies but he thought it was cute so he took a picture for you to see in the morning

he found the remote and turned off the movie and tv before wishing a whisper of a good night then headed back to his room

the room was filled with snores and you were dead asleep

but you couldnt help but squeeze back the tiny hand that gripped yours

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

mrs l/n and mr. l/n groggily made their way up to the front door

‘god, its so late. im so tired. i want to sleep’

mrs l/n complained

mr l/n immediately fished out his keys and he turned the door to enter their home

it was very quiet and dark so they figured that both you and natsu already went to bed

they dumped their luggage at the entrance, bothering to unpack tomorrow and were making their way to the kitchen for a water 

mrs l/n was making her way to the bathroom when she heard a groan from the living room

her eyes shot wide open and she thought she was so tired that she was hallucinating

but nope

her eyes transfixed itself on a figure that was standing at the middle of the living room

with a shaking hand, she reached over to flicker the lights on and she shrieked at the sight of a naked man

tooru felt sleep immediately leave him at the sound of the woman’s shriek and his eyes fell on someone by the doorway and she was not staring at his face

instead

down there

he followed her sight and my god

oikawa screamed

a/n: hehehe happy new years!!! well,, belated new years!! but we really starting the new year with a buck naked oikawa and a traumatized mom aren’t we? but i hope everyone had a great holiday and im so excited for the start of the new year and what it has in store for us!!! sending much love!!!

[wallwriterstuff]

The Little Ways You Say I Love You  ||Demetri Volturi x Reader||

Summary: Demetri is well aware how fragile humans can be and needs a little reminder that to touch you isn’t to kill you. Loving a vampire isn’t easy, but you find a way to compromise that suits both your needs. 

Warnings: None, for once it’s nice and fluffy

Words: 4071

There were certain things humans did that were very endearing. The way you scrunched your nose for example when you were confused or showing your distaste for something, and that sweet way you snuggled down into your duvet when you slept. It was also incredibly cute how excited you got when exploring somewhere/something new, eyes shining as you bounced about. Your sleepy confusion when you first got up or had been up too long, your sweet little sneezes and sniffles when the flowers in the garden invaded your nose, your habit of fidgeting – it was all still so new to him and Demetri would be lying if he said he didn’t find it absolutely adorable. Your humanity was something he had originally not batted an eye at – you were going to be a vampire in the end after all so what was the point – until you had started showing these little traits that left him falling a little harder for you every time he saw them. Then, of course, there were the downsides to mortality.

You got sick. You couldn’t go without eating lest you become sluggish and nauseated. You sometimes had nightmares when you slept and terrified him when you woke with a gasp or a scream. Your skin turned shades of black, yellow and blue when you hit your limbs off of inanimate objects - and Felix’s abdomen but you had both sworn a pact to never tell Demetri that was how your knuckles had ended up bruised – that Demetri never seemed to be able to steer you clear of despite his speed. If you tripped or hit them just right your skin also, heaven forbid, tore like tissue paper, tempting him with your sweet sweet blood. He was grateful that didn’t happen as often as you added to your collection of bruises. He was also well aware of how fragile your bones were, susceptible to shatter from the slightest pressure. In short, all the things he found so endearing could very easily be wiped out by illness, injury, and the common flaw of mortality that was, simply, that it wasn’t built to last.

Demetri was painfully aware of all of these things when it came to you, having accidentally left his fingerprints on your wrist for days after trying to make sure you didn’t step into the way of an oncoming car once. He had felt awful; it was almost painful to watch how slowly your skin faded back to it’s normal colouring, and he’d honestly had no idea you’d get so sick when he ran with you for the first time, feeling immensely guilty as he dared not put his hands on your heaving form lest he make it any worse. It was a pattern you’d noticed for a few weeks now and you hated it. Demetri had been nothing but good to you from the day you’d met him, a bit dismissive at first perhaps but very attentive when it came to your needs so you were never uncomfortable in your new home. You’d not had much choice once you’d been pulled from the tour group but to stay with him, especially after hearing the screams you should have been contributing to – nobody of sound mind would let you go with what you knew.

It was very obvious that Demetri had never really expected to meet you, and the sudden appearance of his mate had left him at a bit of a loss, especially when he realised you were human. You could almost see inside his mind in the early days as he watched you explore your new home with a mystified but doting expression, looking very much like a parent watching their child toddle about after finding their feet for the first time. What do I do with a human? The answer was very simple and you let him know soon enough, that if he expected you to fall hopelessly in love with him then you’d like to see the real him doing things he loved. He’d taken you out a lot after that, having to learn to balance your need for rest with his fun-packed dates. In all that time, from the first moment he’d accidentally bruised you (and consequently saved you from the wrath of a very angry Italian woman who was clearly in a hurry that day) pulling you out of the way of that car, he’d not touched you since.

You weren’t expecting the world from him, you knew it took a lot of self-control for him to even be near you some days, but you were only human. You were never one of those people who preferred their own company and had grown up in a family were physical touch was common place, whether it be from hugs or from cousins poking you constantly, you naturally craved physical contact and Demetri seemed to naturally withhold it. You knew it was out of fear for your safety, and you didn’t want to force him to spend long hours snuggling with you or do anything extravagant if it meant putting him through any sort of discomfort, but would it really kill him to hold your hand when you went out and about to places? Was it really the end of the world if he gave you a brief hug when you were upset? He seemed to think you’d collapse if he so much as breathed on you, or at least, that’s how it felt.

At first it had just been a bit annoying. It was a quirk of his you’d tried to learn to live with until it began to wear you down some. You had been given a three-month grace period to settle in, and time was very quickly passing you by. The longer it went on the less desirable you felt. Logically you were well aware your thinking was stupid, that Demetri was refraining from touching you for any other reason than simply wanting to ensure he didn’t hurt you, but the lack of contact forewent all logic to that lingering anxiety that perhaps your human self wasn’t enough to attract him. Maybe he didn’t want to touch you. You’d subconsciously tried dressing a little nicer and being a little more flirty just to see if it would encourage him to touch you, even if it was just his hand on your arm briefly, and you were disappointed to find that it didn’t work.

He’d been on a mission for his masters for the last few days, leaving you alone to wallow in your thoughts. You’d been lonely with all your usual friends gone from the castle and you knew full well you couldn’t expect him to greet you with a hug when he returned, though he would, in his own way, still greet you warmly. Vampires, you had learned, were eerily quiet, though you supposed they had no reason to be loud, so consequently when they weren’t around to make conversation with the castle was silent. Creepily silent. In an effort to chase away that silence, you’d turned to music. Demetri’s quarters were on the floor reserved specifically for the high-ranking guardsmen, and since they were all out there would be no Jane to pound on the door and demand you turn it down, or Felix shouting from his own room that her taste in music was horrible.

So you cranked the volume up.

High.

Then turned it back down because Caius’s face had unwittingly entered your mind and he looked even more irritated with you than usual.

After a few minutes of altering the volume to what you considered the optimum level, you finally settled back onto the sofa with the intention of just enjoying the music as you continued to read one of Demetri’s many books. By the bottom of the first page you were tapping your toe along to the beat. By the bottom of the third you were bobbing your head. By the time you hit page number five you were bopping side to side in your seat. You had abandoned your book entirely by page number seven in favour of grabbing the TV remote and using it as microphone, and you had an absolute blast. You imagined yourself on stage, a thousand adoring hands reaching for you as you sang your heart out and danced around the room, switching between air guitars and pillow dance partners. You could practically feel the way your mood shifted, the beginnings of your sulking long gone as your face flushed and your smile widened, nothing but the light, euphoric love for good music filling you from head to toe.

Then the ultimate karaoke song came on, and you squealed in delight as you uncaringly turned the music up far louder than you knew any of the ancient masters would like. You danced about the room, trotting like a pony and waving your arms to the beat as the intro played itself out, and then your microphone lifted, the fans went wild and you turned to point at them all, only to freeze. Demetri’s vibrantly red eyes were filled with mirth, his lips spread into a wide grin as he stood in the doorway, cloak draped over his arm. Mouth frozen open, you took a moment to feel the sheer horror at being caught red-handed.

“Please, don’t stop on my account.” He insisted, turning to hang his cloak up on the coat stand near his door. It hung neatly beside your own jacket and coat. He looked unfairly good considering he’d probably crossed hundreds of thousands of miles on foot in the past few days, not a hair out of place and pearl white teeth gleaming at you. You, on the other hand, were flushed bright red, hair falling in your eyes thanks to your dancing knocking it out of your neat style, and probably sweating a little.

“You…are back.” You said. Demetri tilted his head slightly, discarding his jacket next and rolling up the sleeves of his button up shirt.

“I am back.” He confirmed. You bit your lip, your embarrassment lingering still as he crossed to turn the music down slightly, to a more bearable volume for his sensitive ears.

“I missed you.” You told him honestly, fingers itching. You wanted to reach for him but couldn’t bring yourself to do it. Demetri seemed to sense your change in attitude, his amusement fading and being replaced instead by something that seemed to be an odd mix of confusion and concern. He came to stand before you, hand almost reaching for your arm before he retracted it.

“I didn’t mean to embarrass you my love, you looked like you were having fun.” He said. You couldn’t quite bring your eyes to move from his hand, the hand that had almost answered your silent prayers, that had very almost touched you. He’d been gone for three days, would he really deny you the contact you wanted if you were just honest with him?

“I was.” You agreed softly, tossing your remote control microphone aside and trying to pluck up the bravery to just do it. His hand was right there, loose and open. You could easily slip your palm against his. What was the worst that could happen? Well he could always snatch his hand away and reaffirm your ridiculous beliefs about being undesirable in every way shape and form but, what were the odds of that? You quickly stopped letting yourself think when your brain tried to work out the statistics.

“I need to shower, you’ll have some more time to yourself while I’m in there if that’s what you would like.” He assured you. You shook your head immediately, the last thing you wanted was for him to leave you so soon after he’d just gotten back. You took a breath and quickly reached for his hand, looking up at him with pleading eyes while he visibly stiffened at your touch.

“Dance with me?” you pleaded. Demetri’s crimson irises flickered to your joined hands briefly, his grip was non-existent, and you could almost feel him trying to pull away. Your heart quietly shattered.

“I’m not entirely sure how you would dance to this music.” He admitted. It wasn’t a resounding no at least and he still hadn’t forced you to let go. You bit your lip, a small flicker of hope igniting in your chest that must have shown on your face.

“Please try?” you asked, slowly lifting your joined hands so you could twirl beneath his arm. Demetri’s grip remained awfully loose and he almost seemed to flinch when you reached for his other hand, carefully moving your arms back and forth, hips swinging. You had no clue what you were doing either, you were simply compiling dance moves one on top of the other with no rhyme or reason, speeding up as you went. It was…honestly hilarious. Your discontent was very quickly forgotten seeing the effort Demetri was putting into this ridiculous dancing for you. His movements were gracefully awkward, his vampirism not letting him look stupid despite the fact that he very clearly should given the mismatched way his top and bottom halves were moving. You giggled at him and Demetri shot you a playful glare in response.

“What? You think this is funny? I am the height of trendy. My moves are so fashionable they’re ahead of their time.” He teased, letting you go in favour of pulling a ridiculous John Travolta pose, his head bobbing as he did the classic disco moves you were sure the human race had tried to bury in the film Footloose. You laughed, happily mimicking him with far less grace as the pair of you utilised the space in your room to full advantage. Demetri made no attempt to stop you whenever you grabbed him, your smile only widening whenever he let you take his hand to twist him one way or spin yourself about the next. You were exhausted, barely able to breathe through your laughter when you inevitably tripped over your own feet, colliding with his chest as the cliché moment demanded.

Panting and still giggling to yourself you were completely unaware he even had his arms around you until you tried to pull back and found yourself trapped in his embrace. Your giggles stopped abruptly, the shock clogging up your throat. With wide eyes, you looked up at him, slowly lifting your own arms to wrap back around him as he stared down at you with the most soft, vulnerable expression you’d ever seen on him. He looked entirely uncertain, his arms not quite loose but not tightly wrapped around your body either, as if he was fighting with himself to simply keep hold of you.

“Demetri…” you whispered. It was all you had wanted now for weeks, and here you were finally, home. There was a sense of contentment growing within you the longer he held you, a rightness that his embrace offered that made it feel like he’d locked all of your troubles and insecurities outside of the little bubble he’d created. You snuggled closer, determined to make the most of it while it lasted, but quickly felt guilty for the selfish move when he stiffened, muscles rigid with tenseness. “I’m sorry.” You said, attempting to squirm backwards out of his grasp. He let go immediately, his eyes widening.

“Did I hurt you?” he asked immediately, eyes a little frantic.

“No!” you groaned, sounding more exasperated than you wanted to. Demetri frowned, picking up on it and looking equal parts confused and wounded. You sighed, crossing to the speaker and turning it off. The silence between you was deafening for a long moment as you organised your thoughts, trying to figure out what to say to him next.

“What’s wrong my love?” he asked quietly, “Please, talk to me.” He looked so earnest, like he really wanted to listen and figure out how to fix the problem. He was like a big puppy sometimes, desperate to give you love but unsure how to do it in an acceptable way. It made your heart ache and your cheeks flush simultaneously because you knew it was really your own problem, your own silly insecurities. Playing with your fingers, you ducked your gaze and took a deep breath, exhaling in a huff before looking back up at him.

“I need you to know you’re not going to hurt me just by touching me.” You said finally, “I’m not made of glass Demetri, I’m not going to shatter at the slightest touch.” Demetri’s brows tugged down into a frown.

“I am very capable of hurting you my love, I’m only careful with you to avoid that.” He answered.

“But you don’t avoid that, you avoid me.” You retorted, eyes dropping to the floor again, “I know you mean well and I don’t want to make you do anything you’re not comfortable with but…isn’t there a way to compromise? Something little we could do that just, that makes me feel like…” you stumbled over the words, knowing they’d hurt him greatly. Demetri was nothing if not dedicated to you and to suggest he wasn’t was practically blasphemy.

“Like…”he prompted. You swallowed, risking a quick glance up at him and feeling your stomach curl at the anxious expression on his face.

“Like you actually want me.” You said softly. The way his entire expression crumpled made you feel intensely guilty, so much so you felt tears spring to your eyes. You forced yourself to blink them back. You’d had such a good afternoon, you’d been laughing together without a care in the world not ten minutes ago and you’d just had to go and spill your guts to ruin it hadn’t you? You really hadn’t been expecting his cold hand to envelope yours, his eyes watching your expression carefully as he tested the smallest amount of pressure he could possibly exert to tighten his grip on your palm.

“I am careful with you because of how badly I want you.” He said, his voice quiet and earnest, “Please believe me, it was never my intention to make you feel undesirable. I still can’t honestly say I feel entirely comfortable with the idea of embracing you but…maybe, we could start with this?” he suggested, lifting your hands slightly. Your heart swelled, eye shining as you stared down at his fingers curled around yours, relished in the strangely warm coolness of his skin. You nodded earnestly.

“Please. I’m happy with just this.” You promised, squeezing his hand lightly. Demetri sucked in a breath.

“Are you sure?” he questioned. You nodded vigorously, unable to keep the smile from spreading across your face. You hadn’t wanted the world from him, just a small amount of contact comfort every now and then. Demetri looked utterly relieved you weren’t pushing him further, quietly content with his own brave leap.

“I’m sure…didn’t you need a shower?” you asked, cocking your head to the side. His lips twitched into the smuggest little smirk you’d ever seen on him.

“Maybe I’m not done holding your hand?” he suggested.

“Then maybe you can keep on holding it?” you smiled.

Demetri kept true to his word to, trying his best to introduce a little bit of physical contact throughout your day. He kept it at hand holding for a while, slowly testing the waters with a hug or two here and there. He had developed a nice little system of taps for his worse days, where the fear he’d hurt you was just a little too much, and you came to cherish the small but meaningful touch between you both that only the two of you ever understood.

Suddenly, three months were up. Demetri had prepared you well for what you’d face during the change theoretically, but nothing he could have said or done would have ever prepared you for the sheer agony of it all. You burned constantly, a raging inferno consuming every cell and every fibre of your being. You dared not scream though. You knew better than anyone how deep his fear of hurting you ran, that the anxiety in his eyes when he had pulled his teeth from your skin was nothing to do with whether or not you’d make it but had everything to do with the fact he knew he was causing you an intense, immeasurable amount of agony. He had never wished to do that at all, so you pursed your lips so hard your teeth cut your lips and you tasted blood, determined not to make him feel any worse for this than he probably already felt. Your fortitude was admirable all things considered and every time you envisioned Demetri’s heartbroken face it was renewed, your lips clamping once more after the agony had slowly worn them down and loosened the seal holding back your screams.

By the time the fire rescinded, you were so ready for it to be over you had considered, selfishly, begging for Alec to take the pain away, Demetri be damned. You went from the odd sensation of floating on fire to being lowered deeper and deeper in a cool lake, soothing the ache and the burn that had ravaged your body. Once the cold lake had stole your breath, you were catapulted to the surface, and your eyes snapped open. You were acutely aware of every little detail surrounding you. You could count the threads in the curtains surrounding the four-poster bed you lay on, trace the grooves in the wooden bed frame with your eyes. You could feel every stitch in the duvet beneath you, the softness of the interwoven threads leaving you in awe. Then there was the sound, the far off sounds of something scurrying in the castle gardens, of people talking and laughing, of music. Your nose twitched to life then to, a mixture of fruit and flora and cologne and fresh breeze and –

“Y/N?”

Your head snapped right, lip curling back over your teeth as a warning growl slipped up from your chest and rumbled in your throat. It took you a fraction of a second to place the features of the man before you, the dark red eyes, the sharp jawline, the chestnut brown hair…

“Demetri.” You said, blinking in shock at your new, melodic voice. He chuckled slightly, but his eyes remained somewhat sad. He was in awe of you as you zoomed to an abrupt stop in front of him, giggling at your newfound speed like a child, but there was something in his eyes that spoke of an intense amount of guilt you had trouble placing. His hand was soft and warm against your cheek, nothing like the cool temperature you were used to feeling from his flesh, but you leaned into his touch regardless, surprised he’d so willingly given it. Then you remembered, you were a lot more durable now, weren’t you? He was far less afraid of breaking you and probably more wary that if you weren’t careful, you could break him. You almost flinched, the sudden, intense stab of terror that you might accidentally crush him both ironic and bringing a level of understanding you’d struggled with before.

“I am…awestruck. You are magnificent my love,” He said, voice soft and wistful, “Can you forgive me?” Forgive him? Your face fell into a frown? Forgive him for what? For changing you? You’d already forgiven him for taking you out of that tour group long ago, happy beyond belief to be with your mate and not six feet under somewhere, even if you did miss home. You felt it even more acutely now, how right it was to be with him, to be near him, to be touched by him. You decided whatever he wanted forgiveness for didn’t matter. You wouldn’t even ask him to qualify what he meant. This was a fresh start for both of you now and you were ready to take it, to start eternity with him by your side. So, you reached up to the hand cradling your face and gently tapped the back of his hand twice. Demetri’s lips twitched, and they pulled higher and higher until his face had split into an adoring smile.

There were many things he had found endearing about your humanity, but the little ways you said I love you were perhaps his favourite.

[mason-alexander24]

~Noticed~

Tsukishima x reader

genre: hurt/comfort

warnings: mentions of cheating, sensitive topics and mental illness

“ you look sad”      

     Your eyes stayed trained on the pavement in front of you. Watching as the rain dropped on the already wet stone. “ do I?” - you paused, glancing up at the tall blonde who had stopped in front of you before resuming your languid stares at the ground “ didn't think you'd notice” 

     You heard a small noise of annoyance, the typical from a guy like him. You'd known him for years, stuck by his side since the two of you were kids. It was only natural that the two of you would know each other well. Your mothers were best friends. 

“ your getting wet” his voice snapped you out of your daydreaming once more. It had been raining for a while. Your parents were supposed to pick you up from school, but here you are. Drenched to the bone and left to think.

     You looked back up at him and gave him a lazy smirk “ well aren't you just a regular old sherlock” you pushed yourself off of the wall that you were originally leaning against. “ how was practice?” you asked, trying to get his unusual attention off of your current emotional state. 

“ it was fine, Hinata hit Kageyama in the back of the head with one of his serves again” he rolled his eyes slightly before looking back at you “ why are you still here?” You half smiled 

“ if I didn't know any better I'd say you're disappointed to see me” he gave you a look and you sighed “ parents forgot to pick me up again. I was gonna walk home but I guess I just got lost in thought. “ you shrugged your shoulders before straightening up “ hey where's yams?” 

“ he's coming, he stayed behind to help clean up” you nodded softly before letting out a soft sigh.

 “ I'm gonna start walking home, I'll see you. “ you were honestly just desperate to get home. 

“ do you wanna walk with us? Is pouring and you already look like a wet cat” he said so bluntly you almost punched him.

“ wow you really know how to sweet talk” you gave him a look and then smiled softly “ it's alright, I'll just run for it. You wait up for yams.” you didn't really give him a chance to say anything back and just started making a run for it.     

     Opening the door to your house was always a gamble, it was either silent or there was some type of argument going on. “ I'm home!” you gave a half hearted shout before realizing that no one was even home. Tracking your soaked self to the kitchen you saw that your mom had left a note saying that your dad had gone on a business trip and she was going out tonight. You let out a soft sigh before going up to your room. You pulled your wet clothes off and put them in the laundry, leaving your phone in your room before going to shower.

Tsukishima    

 I can shake it. I know something is wrong but I don't even know if it's my place to say anything. 

     He thought to himself while walking.“ Tsukki? Are you ok?” he heard Tadashi and looked over to him. He let out a soft sigh before nodding. Tadashi knew better than to push it so they continued their walk home in silence. 

     Once Tsukki got home he went straight to his room and spent a bit just scrolling through his phone, before he decided to text you. He just couldn't get rid of this nasty feeling in his stomach. 

8:25~Hey. 

Then, he waited. 

y/n

     You took your time in the shower, you tried to convince yourself it was because you were cold but now you sat there. You were not entirely sure just how long you had been in the shower but it was enough time to feel the water starting to turn cold before you stepped out and wrapped yourself up. Stepping back into your room you felt empty, hollow.

     You looked over at your bed, staring at your phone and debating whether you should answer the text notification. “ well..nothing better to do I guess.” pulling on some sweatpants and a big hoodie you threw your hair up into a bun and picked up your phone, quickly plugging it in before opening it. Your brow quirked up 

“ hey? Why is he texting this late? He's usually reading or studying” you pondered over whether you were gonna answer or not. It was hard, he was your closest friend but here you are, in love with him. Classic, you know that.

 8:46~Hey, what's up. 

     You sent it then quickly put your phone down. Trying to control your anxiety. It didn't work, especially not when you heard the front door open, hushed giggles and things being bumped. You went to walk into the hall but stopped, hand hovering over the door handle.

 “ he's not home” “ promise?” “ of course”

     You felt your stomach churn. You backed slowly away from the door, trying to rationalize it. Maybe it was just a friend or something. Then you hear the noises no kid wants to hear from their parents...parent. It was like that was the last straw and it all came out. You sat back and just cried. Your sobs were silent but it felt like your ears were ringing. 

    The last months you have dealt with your parents fighting with each other, your grades are dropping. You've been up countless nights studying, losing sleep and skipping meals. Your body was tired. Your mind was broken. 

~Ding~

You looked over at your phone and read the message

 8:52~You're not ok, are you?

Part of you wanted to laugh, he was blunt as usual, but you couldn't. 

8:54~No. 

8:55~Can I help at all

     You could feel the awkwardness through the phone

8:56~Can I come over? I'll explain it all in person.

 The noises from the other side of the wall got louder and you gagged. Trying to calm the impending anxiety attack.

 9:00~Yea sure, front doors unlocked.  

     You didn't wait. You grabbed your phone and phone charger, threw on a jacket and made a run for it. Your anxiety drives you forward. You couldn't stop crying. You knew his parents loved you so when you got there you just went straight in, quickly taking your shoes off before making your way up to his room. You knocked softly, trying to calm your breathing before he opened the door. 

“ hey y/n what's- whoa hey your crying..” he looked shocked, he gently pulled you into his room. Slowly he wrapped his arms around you “ tell me what's wrong” his voice was soft, it wasn't anything you were used to hearing from him. You spilled everything from the last few months. 

    You sat with him and cried while telling him what happened tonight “ and to top it all off I fell in love with my best friend who has the braincells of a spoon when it comes to relationships' ' you spurted out before you realized what you said. You didn't even want to look at him in fear of what his face was gonna look like.

 “ Wow, you really know how to sweet talk” you heard his voice, slowly looking up at him you saw him smirking slightly. You started to blurt out apologies. “ y/n” you honestly didn't hear him “ y/n!”

     that made you stop, you barely had any time to catch your breath before you felt his hands on your cheeks. His thumbs brushed away stray tears falling from your eyes, before he leaned in. Your eyes widened before they closed, his lips were warm and soft as they pressed against yours. You couldn't help but feel safe, melting away in his grip. His fingertips rough from volleyball. You weren't sure how to react when he pulled away.

 “ I fell for my best friend too” your cheeks were flushed and you didn't know what to say. “ come here” he said softly before pulling you under the covers with him, “ you are not going home, i don't want you to have to deal with that. Stay with me tonight” 

“ ok” your voice was quiet and gentle, you gently laid your head on his chest. He gently ran his fingers through your hair. 

“ hey, your my girlfriend now right” you laughed quietly,

 “ yes Tsukki..hey your blushing” you mumbled, on the verge of falling asleep. Just before your eyes closed you heard him laugh softly 

“ didn't think you'd notice.” 

[bri-flores]

Secrets

Fandom: Twisted Wonderland 

Characters: Azul Ashengrotto v.s  Idia Shroud

Reader: Female 

Warnings: Yandere content 

Other Info: Part one, heavy dialogue, probably bad spelling,  

The bell had rung announcing it was time to go back to the dorms. Students rushed out of the building and most started running as it seemed like it was going to rain. Unlike the others (Y/n) couldn’t afford to get a run not when her boyfriend could easily catch up to her if she waited for one of her friends to pick her up, and she honestly didn't feel like drowning in questions if he showed up. This resulted in the girl deciding on walking home it might be quite far, but much better than confronting him. The girl started walking as fast as she could while looking over her shoulder every once in a while trying to spot any of his silver hair; a dead giveaway that he was following her. A good ten minutes passed without the male appearing giving the girl a false sense of security. She stops next to a tree, deciding to take out the gift her friend had given her out of the bag. When suddenly she felt a hand grab her shoulder from behind. Her fist flew towards the figure, the person skillfully caught her attack and firmly held her hand, bruising it in the process.

“Angelfish! I’m not a punching bag.”

The maiden looked into the blue eyes of the tall figure, her heart overflowing with panic.

“Oh, it’s you Azul.” Soon as his name fell from her lips the male gripped her hand tighter making the girl winced. The young man took notice of her pained look, but ignored it.

“Azul? What happened to honey?” The boy jests.

“I apologize, my mind is completely scrambled that I forgot.”

“Oh angel fish, don’t fret I won't hold it against you.” Azul took a quick glance at her hand, he saw the mark he left, ignoring it as well, “Why were you so on-guard back there? Were you expecting someone to attack you.” He joked, making the maiden roll her eyes.

“You can never be too careful.”

“If that’s the case I'm walking you to your dorm for extra security. You’re too feeble.” He cheerily stated.

“I guess.” The pale male put his arm around her shoulders. “So how was your trip?”

“It was fun to say the least.” Her eyes sparkled with joy and excitement, remembering her wonderful time at the beach alongside her best friend. Her train of thought interrupted by the blue-eyed male.

“That’s all you have to say.”

“Well I got to see some sharks, Idia almost drowned and-”

“Wait my board game buddy almost drowned HA! I wish I could witness it.” (Y/n)’s hand instantly turned into a fist, and she swung her arm towards the male and it almost collided against his face. She glimpsed to the right seeing her hand was being held back once again by the silver haired male and to add insult to the injury the young man shook his head and mouth out truly pathetic. (Y/n)’s cheeks now scarlet and puffed, she will wipe that smirk out of him. Azul was now looking the other way while laughing at her pitiful attempt of a punch, she used this opportunity to use her left arm to smack him as hard as possible on the back of his head.

“What was that for?!” Azul removed his arm from her shoulder to start rubbing his head and immediately started to laugh. The maiden’s head now gazing at the grey sky, a visible pink hue of her cheeks,

“God, Azul, you’re so callous. No wonder you don’t have any friends.”

“I don’t need friends. All I need is you” The maiden shook her head, maybe Ace was right only stupidity comes out Azul’s mouth.

“Everyone needs friends. Even stone-cold, ruthless, heartless, overachievers like you,” the maiden smiled.

“I don’t need friends. It’s just a meaningless word and all humans are disappointing and besides, the leech twins are enough. You should be the one getting new friends” Azul argued back.

“And that’s the kind of talk that’ll have you being friends with cats, forever.”

“New friends?” She raised one eyebrow and looked up at him. The girl raised her hand, making the silver hair male raise his own prepared for another assault, but realize that she was just counting her fingers,

“Ace, Deuce and the others are great friends.”

“I doubt it.”

“See what I’m talking about!” Using the hand he raised up he pulled her into a tight embrace resting his chin on top of her head and smiling into her hair,

“Nope.” Azul responded smugly.

“You're impossible.” He let go of her, and they started to walk once again.

They were half-way when she realized that Azul wasn’t even wearing a jacket and wondered if he was getting cold, but remembering that this is the guy who used to live in the Coral Sea. Azul had watched (Y/n) get more and more goosebumps as well as how she rubbed her arms for heat during their way to her dorm. He didn’t want his angel fish to turn to ice, so he proceeded in taking off his grey coat and offering it to her, leaving him exposed to the rain. The girl tilted her head showing the boy what she had previously taken out of the bag; a black motorcycle jacket he perceived belonged to Idia. The girl heard a slightly inhuman, low growl coming from her partner at the sight of the object. Azul snatched it and fairly quickly threw it far away, (Y/n)’s eyes widened and her mind started going a mile per minute, she could feel her mind being clouded by anger and sadness. Once more handing his grey coat towards her, she couldn’t help but turn around and cross her arms. She could feel small droplets fall to her face and the wind growing colder. She suddenly felt a soft material being draped over her shoulders taking a peak she recognized to be a coat she refused to take. Turning to face Azul, she saw him staring into the ground while shifting his left leg  side-to-side. He raised his head making the best puppy eyes (Y/n) has ever seen,

“Well…”

“Thank you,” mumbled (Y/n) while putting on the clothing correctly, not seeing Azul smirking.

“What was that?”

“Thank you! Happy,” (Y/n) answer sarcastically.

“Was it that difficult?”

“Practically took ten years out of me,” she told him. They started walking once more. The sky got darker by the minute, the rain was dropping faster than before, and the wind got wilder, colder. For the girl it felt like she was walking through a hurricane, but for the young man, it felt like a sunny day.

“Angelfish.” The maiden turn to face him

“What?”

“Did Idia waste all his lottery money?” He hissed, something (Y/n) brushed off.

“No he didn’t, he said something about saving for something special.” Her hands clenched into fists.

“Don’t tell me, more video games.” He sarcastically noted.

“Not exactly.” Azul could see how (Y/n) was scratching her neck in an awkward manner.

“Why even ask me this?”

“Just wondering.”

“Well wonder to him not me.” With that in mind he decided on pushing her buttons.

“You know I been wonder-“

“What did I just tell you?”

“Don't fret is not about Idia, it’s for you Angelfish,” Azul stops her “did you gain weight because last time I saw you,” the male lightly tapped her stomach “this was flat.”

“What!!! No I… I Haven’t!!! Is just your imagination.” The girl’s face quickly turned crimson. Looking away from him, her wide eyes in realization of what that meant. Grabbing her chin turning to face him, he spoke once more,

“Don’t lie to me. I get it beach food is exquisite, but this is a bit over bored.”

“Okay, so what?! You know I stress eat” (Y/n) tried putting an embarrassing facade, but Azul is no fool and easily saw through it, but dismissed it. “I’m not buying that. Stress about what? You had two months to worry about nothing.” She could hear her heart beating quickly, her mind trying to think of any excuse but came out blank every time, so she did the best next thing.

“Shut up!” The male slightly cringed at the maiden’s harsh words that seemed to hit a sensitive spot in his heart.

“Okay I’ll drop the subject.” He knew pushing the subject would continue to aggravate her beyond the tipping point after her outburst but he knew that this was more than just food. After the girl had cooled down from her confrontation with the male she decided to speak up again, “Talking about months, what did you do when I was gone? You never did tell me.”

“How I am supposed to tell you when you've been avoiding me like the plague since your return.”

“I apologize it was never my intention to avoid you.” Her voice sounded honey-like, a telltale sign for him that she was lying.

“Is that so? Well I started to earn more money to start our future together.”

“Future together?” (Y/n) asked herself under her breath. Her eyebrows rise gradually in realization. Her action was misinterpreted by the male to be one of worries, so he held her hands to explain what he meant, “I want to start a family with you.”

“Don't you think we are going too fast.”

“Not at all,” responded Azul, ignoring the fact he tightened his grip around her hand, injuring even further.

“Since when did we decide this?” (Y/n) inquired in an ill tone while trying to pried her hand off his iron grip.

“When you left for your trip. Or do you think I will not be a suitable husb-”

“NO! No, that's not it at all.”

“Your face is telling me otherwise.” He loosen his grip enough for the girl to pull it. Her hand now purple than its original color, something the male considered ironic. To reassure her of his love he spoke once more but in a softer more gentle tone, “You do know I only fancy you, my angel fish. No one will love you the way I do, remember that.” Those words click something on her brain. Guilt, sorrow, regret slowly washed over her. Had she made a mistake? Perhap. A million things started going through her already scrambled mind. To not make things more awkward the girl started walking back up again not caring if the male followed. The mild rain had now turned into a full on storm.

“Angelfish”

“What now Azul?” The maiden snapped. Her tears were covered by the heavy rain but he could tell what fell from the sky and what fell from her eyes.

“Planning on going to Ignihyde?” Azul told her trying to lighten up the mood.

“No, why?” (Y/n) asked, confused at his question. He laughed, “Because you passed your dorm.”

“That can’t be” turning around she did indeed pass her dorm, how could that be? Her hands came up to her face to cover her embarrassment.

“You're too careless. I’m glad I came along.” He took one of her hands off her face to guide her. By doing that the girl could see how truly beautiful her partner looked. His face and upper body tainted by the water, wilded silver hair tamed by the small droplets, his features held gentleness and delicateness under the rain. This made the maiden look down, shame taking over her. She truly messed up on her decisions. How she wishes she could manipulate time. They arrive in front of her dorm. The silence broken by the young man, “Is Grim home?”

“No, he said he was going to hang out with ADeuce. Why?”

“Grim was going to give some things,” The maiden shot him a perplexed look “it's a secret, of course,” he added.

“If you want, I can go check his-”

“No no I’ll tell him to give it to me another day.”

“Oh, okay. Goodbye.”

“That’s not the tone I want to hear,” he murmured. “Before I forget, tell the Idia we have a match tomorrow.” Azul added.

“Okay!”

“Well I’m glad you're back, I missed you so much, Angelfish.” (Y/n) could hear the happy delight in his voice. The silver-haired male waved farewell and started walking towards his own dorm which was not far from her own. Arriving at his dorm, he entered the Mostro Lounge; The leech twins waiting for his commands. He took a seat at one of the couches not caring if he got it wet in the process. Once seated Azul took the mobile device out of his back pocket and started calling gold-eyed senior's number while directing the twins towards him.

“Hello Idia, It’s Azul, where are you?”

“I’m in my room. Need something?”

“Yes,” He hisses, “You wouldn’t mind if I go? Right” he told him in a bitter tone.

“Of course not!” The silver-haired man cared very little about the senior’s response even if he said no, he would still go.

“I’ll be right there.”

He was going to fix this even if it means getting his hands filthy.

[justimagineitblog]

“You Used To Love Me” Michael Gray Fan Fiction - Chapter 10

A/N: Alright this one broke and mended my heart all at once while I was writing it - goddamn these characters hahahahaha. 

WARNINGS: Swearing, Violence, Guns, Death, Alcohol - 

I know I’ve used swear words in previous chapters but this one is quite heavily riddled with it, I also thought I’d warn that there are mentions of death in this one my loves - it’s nothing too full on and I don’t go into heavy descriptions but I just felt like this one needed a warning just incase x

As always, please enjoy xx 

As the alarm goes off, Charlie and I both jolt awake in bed. It only takes a few moments to realise that it’s almost half an hour past when we were supposed to be up.

“Fuck!” He shouts as he jumps out of the bed, ripping the sheets back. He’s going on a work trip this weekend with his brother, and if the time on the clock is correct, then the car should be pulling up any moment. 

I tear myself out of the bed after him, frantically running around with him to help him get ready. 

“Charlie your suit case is in here!” I call as I hear him fumbling around my apartment for his luggage. He runs back into the room, tearing through the cupboards for his suit. 

He strips naked right in front of me, and I can’t help but laugh at how much of a mess this is as I try and help him get his suit on. 

“He’s gonna kill me if I’m late” he stresses, his hands desperately trying to do up his buttons but he fails. This is a big weekend for their business. If he’s late or messes his up, I know how horrible he will feel about it for a long time. 

“Hey, just breathe okay, let me do this” I coo, swatting his hands away as I do his buttons up for him. 

He nods, closing his eyes and drawing in a deep breath. Once his shirt is buttoned up he takes off again, scurrying around gathering all his paper work, luggage and some how wriggling his shoes on. We both jump in fright as the beeping of a horn below signals that his car is here. 

Swearing repeatedly, he runs to the door, but freezes right before he walks out. “I’m sorry, I’m so sorry” he breathes, turning back to me with a shaking his head.

“Stop, it’s okay” I promise him, my hands on his chest as I straighten his tie and jacket “You’re gonna be amazing” 

With a relieved smile, he presses his lips against mine. I hold his face, trying to soak up as much of him as I can. 

“I’ll miss you, don’t get in any trouble while I’m gone eh?”

“Me?” I furrow my brows “I have no idea what you’re talking about” 

He laughs, pulling me in for another kiss. 

“Okay, okay you have to go” I chuckle as the car horn continues to beep downstairs. He gives me a few last pecks and before I know it he’s gone, running down the hallway, leaving me flustered in his wake. 

I run over to the window, watching as he gets in the car and gives me one last wave. I return the gesture, blowing him a kiss that he pretends to catch as the car pulls away and disappears from my sight. 

Slinking back through my apartment I collapse lazily back into my bed, arms and legs flailed in every direction as I fall back asleep. 

LATER THAT AFTERNOON

“Hello?”

“Hi you” 

I smile as Charlie’s voice speaks like honey through the phone line. 

“Miss me already?” I tease.

“Most definitely” he replies, when suddenly the sound of excitement and hollering fills the phone.

“The deal went well then?” I chuckle at his excitement.  

“The deal went… incredibly,” he begins, trying to speak over the mens in the background “Actually, we made an ever bigger deal than we originally planned on… they want to financially support the entire business, Izzy”

“Oh my god, Charlie, that’s amazing!” I exclaim 

“I was gonna wait to tell you when I got home but… Izzy I think we’re going to move up here” 

My jaw drops as I press the phone closer to my ear to make sure I heard him right. When I don’t reply, he begins to fill in the blanks eagerly. 

“They want us to move up here Izzy, they want to support us and the whole business-“

The weight of what he’s actually saying begins to wash over me as a million questions leap and bound through my mind. 

“Charlie-“ I stutter “You’ve been there for 5 hours” I blurt out, glancing at the clock. 5 hours. That’s barely enough time to decide you want to move 3 hours away. Permanently. 

“I know, I know, but we just made the biggest deal of our lives… I’ve gotta follow this Izzy”

“Oh my god” I breathe, trying to sound excited but doing an absolutely horrid job of hiding my shock. 

“That’s not why I wanted to call you though, I think I have a proposition for you” I hold my breath. So far, I couldn’t have predicted this conversation even if I tried. I have no idea what is about to come out of his mouth.

“Well you see, I told him I wasn’t moving up here unless they set us up with a proper home because…” He takes a deep breath before blurting out his next words “I want you to come with me, Izzy” 

The second the words leave his mouth I freeze. Go with him. Did he just ask me to move away with him? Move three hours away? Away from my home. The place I grew up. Away from my job. Away from the Shelby’s. 

“Izzy? Izzy are you there? What do you think?” I hear his muffled voice asking through the phone as I snap back into reality. Heat rises up my neck and over my face as I fumble for my words. 

“What do I think?” I echo his words. I don’t know what I think. Actually, I’m thinking way to much.

“I know it’s a lot. You don’t have to pack your bags right now. I’ll tell you all about it when I get home” 

Pack my bags?

My breath quickens as do my racing thoughts and heart rate. 

“Okay, I have to go!” he rushes quickly as the shouting and hollering behind him gets louder, urging him to go and join the celebrations. 

And just like that, the phone line goes silent. I stand in the lurch for minute after minute trying to digest what just happened. I fumble for a chair,  trying to steady myself as I sit down. The whole conversation was such a rush and a whirlwind that I feel physically light headed. 

We’ve only been together for a month. 

But if I don’t move away with him, is that the end of us? We would hardly be able to visit one another during the week. And even weekends aren’t always free. Between both of our work schedules, how would we ever make time. Three hours away. That’s no short trip. If anything happened back here, I wouldn’t be able to get back in a hurry. What if Tommy got into trouble? And Arthur? What if Polly needed me? And then the most regretful, dreaded thought crosses my mind. What about Michael? 

I feel physically ill. I can’t move. I can’t do this. The phone that’s rested in my lap begins to ring obnoxiously, frightening me so badly I almost throw it clean across the room. Maybe I should. Maybe I should break the goddamn thing. 

“Shit” I hiss, running a hand through my hair as my heart pounds so hard it feels like it might just jump straight out of my chest. 

I yank the phone towards my ear, completely exhausted and flustered. 

“Izzy? Darling it’s Polly” 

I sigh, trying to calm myself down enough to sound somewhat normal and coherent.

“Hi Poll, what’s up?”

“Look don’t panic, we just need you to come down here okay”

The tight nervousness of her voice snaps me straight out of my cloudy, foggy state.

“Polly what’s going on?” I reply urgently, standing up from my chair in a panic.

“It’s alright. Just come down to the office okay? We’ve got a client here and-” she pauses as voices in the background get louder and I strain desperately to hear who is there “We just need you to go over some things”

“I’m coming now” I hang up the phone immediately. 

Something isn’t right. 

I race out the door without my coat, my hand bag, anything. I don’t even bother trying to be subtle as I run through the streets, tearing my way through people and around corners until I see the office ahead. As I get closer the fear in the pit of my stomach grows bigger and bigger. 

Polly never sounds like that. What the hell is going on. What am I about to find inside. 

The sound of sudden shouting from inside sends a crashing wave of fear and adrenaline through me as I burst into the office through the back door. What I find when I walk in sends my stomach into back flips. I freeze, almost tripping over my own feet from stopping to abruptly. 

All heads shoot towards me. Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael. They look terrified, there eyes wide with panic as they’re stood at the edges of the room, their backs practically up against the walls. And it doesn’t take me long to figure out why. My eye’s immediately fall over a man stood in the middle of the room. 

He’s standing amidst the office desks which have been flipped and smashed all over the floor. Paper is thrown everywhere. I would call him a stranger, but he’s not. I know this man. We all know this man. He is a client. Bill Rodgers. 

I have seen him a few times. Met with him. Met his wife and children. He pays donations to us once a month, in return, we look after his family if they ever need anything. A simple agreement. We do that for a lot of families around here. He’s never been overly warm. But friendly enough. And I don’t know him incredibly well. But it doesn’t take a rocket scientist to realise there is something wrong. Besides the fact that the office is a mess. With chairs, desks and tables scattered across the room. Paper work everywhere. Bill stands in the middle of it all. 

His doing I assume. 

And he is completely wasted. I can smell it on him. All the way from the door way, my nose catches the distinct smell of whiskey. It almost fills the room. You have to drink bottles of whiskey, or spend days on end inside of a pub to smell like that. Even the way he stands, head to the floor, grumbling, swaying. Muttering to himself. But that’s not even the most concerning thing. No. The most concerning thing about Mr Rodgers is not his drunken stupor. 

But the pistol that he is clutching in his hand. 

I swallow hard when I see it. I glance to the floor, where I realise they have placed all of their guns. 

He must have demanded them to drop their guns. 

What I cannot figure out, about Bill, is what the hell he wants. He has never caused any trouble. Never gotten in trouble with the law. Never betrayed us. What the hell is doing here in a drunken rage with a gun?

“Bill,” Tommy begins, his arms outstretched to him “This is Isabelle” 

I glance nervously at Tommy as he signals for me to come over to stand beside him. I rush over to his side, and he steps in front of me ever so slightly.  Bill looks up at me gravely, through the disheveled hair falling in his face.  I try to hold his eyes, staying calm and gentle. In his state, anything could set him off. 

“And what is she gonna do about it huh?” He growls “They’re dead Tommy” 

“Bill-“

“No, Tommy” he shouts “I pay you donations every month, yeah, and you look after my family in return. BUT THEY’RE GONE! THEY’RE GONE TOMMY!” His voice grows louder as he waves his arms in the air, and we all take a few steps back as we watch the pistol in his clutch nervously. 

Tommy opens his mouth to speak, but I beat him to it. 

“Bill,” I say gently and he shoots his eyes in my direction “Just tell me what happened, and I can help you. Whatever you need. But I have to know how to help you first”

He stares at me, reluctantly, angrily, before something seems to give. 

“They’re dead” He breathes “Sarah, and my boys. I was out, and the house was robbed. They stole everything and killed my fucking family” 

My heart drops. He lost his family. All of them. This man is hurting. He is in pain.  We are supposed to provide protection. His house being robbed is something none of us could have prevented, or helped, but he has just lost his entire family, and he’s looking for someone to blame. 

I can’t believe my own actions when I find myself walking slowly towards him. I feel everyone in the room tense, as I do. This man may normally be harmless, but right now he is intoxicated and armed. And I’m walking straight into it. 

“Izzy, don’t” I hear Tommy’s voice hiss so silently I almost miss it. But I ignore him. 

“Bill, we can help you okay” I take another slow, weary step towards him treading so lightly I barely make a sound “We can find the men who did this, but I just need you to put your gun down for me”

He sways, seeming to lose his stability. The whiskey coursing through him right now must be making him see double. 

Suddenly he bursts into sobs, and I almost jump out of my skin. He sinks to the floor, falling among the debris in a pile of sobs and cries. 

Keeping my eyes firmly glued on the gun, I lower myself to his level. 

“No one can help me” he whimpers in between cries. 

“We can help you, I promise” I breathe, the stench of whiskey slapping me in the face and burning my nostrils as I shuffle closer and closer. I’m only inches away from him. Close enough to reach out and take the gun from his lose grip. With one head in his hands, and the other hanging by his side, he’s so distraught I don’t even think he would notice. 

I hear feet shuffling around me, as they all begin to reach for their guns just incase. 

I hold my breath, praying over and over again silently to myself as I extend my arm. My hand shaking as I close in on the pistol. 

But the second my skin touches his, my hand brushing the pistol ever so slightly as I almost grab a hold of it, it sets him off like a match igniting a bomb.  His giant stature lurches upwards as he roars with rage. Happening all to fast for me to comprehend, or even try to escape, he shoves me with a brute force that I’ve never felt before. He pummels me, bashing me up against the wall, the back of my head colliding with it so loudly against it that I think I black out momentarily as everything goes white. My ears, are ringing, piercing and loud and I only just begin to comprehend what’s happening when I feel his hands around my throat. 

His forehead is pressed roughly against mine, his thick breath hot and drenched in pungent alcohol as his chest rises and falls heavily. I grab at his hands, clawing desperately to try and pry them off as his grip tightens. He shakes me like a rag doll, shoving me so harshly into the wall that I’m just waiting for it to give way. He stares at me with rage, with ferocity that I have never seen before. Frozen, paralysed in fear, all I can do is stare back into them. 

The sound of gun chambers cocking all around us catches his attention, and suddenly I’m being pulled away from the wall. He spins me around, and the blow to my head as well as lack of oxygen disorients me completely. It’s not until I feel the burning of cold metal against my temple that I come back to my senses. Bill is stood behind me, one arm around my chest to keep me still, my back pressed against him. The other hand, is pressing the barrel of his pistol against the side of my skull. 

I stiffen immediately, not even breathing as he faces me towards the Tommy, Arthur, Polly and Michael, who all have their guns aimed at him. 

“PUT THE FUCKING GUNS DOWN OR I’LL BLOW HER BRAINS OUT ALL OVER THESE WALLS” He screams at them, his booming voice almost defeating me in one ear as he presses the pistol harder against my head. 

Tommy, Polly and Arthur drops their guns to the floor immediately. 

But Michael doesn’t budge. 

Our eyes lock, and I don’t think I’ve ever seen him so terrified. He is completely pale, all the blood drained from his face as he aims the gun at Bill’s head. 

“Just put the gun down” I whimper, and he shakes his head frantically, refusing to. 

“Let go of her” he growls through clenched teeth, his voice cracking and shaking.

My ears prick as Bill cocks the gun, the chamber clicking.

“An eye for an eye huh,” Bill breathes, beginning to sob again “I fucking kill her and then we’re even for you not protecting my fucking boys”  

“Bill let her go” Tommy warms, holding his arms out to him “We are going to find the men that did this and when we do, they are going to get what they deserve. But this…” she shakes his head “This isn’t the answer”

My eyes dart from Tommy back to Michael, who has not moved an inch, gun still aimed. 

“I TOLD YOU TO PUT THAT FUCKING GUN DOWN” Bill shouts at Michael, completely ignoring Tommy’s words. 

“Michael” I plead desperately, dread washing over me so heavily that I feel ill. I watch as he shakes his head, refusing. His wide open, panic strike eyes have turned glassy, and I can feel tears stinging and biting at my own eyes.  

“It’s okay,” I breathe, giving him the smallest nod I can manage with the pistol against my head “Just put it down” 

His eyes flicker between me and Bill, and I have to fight to not release a harsh exhale of relief as he lowers his gun to the ground. 

“There you go Bill, all the guns are down, now let us talk to you eh?” Tommy negotiates, trying to sound as calm and gentle as he can. But I can see his palpating jaw. His tense body. The veins in his neck bulging from holding his breath. He is the furthest thing from calm. 

For a moment I feel Bill’s grip loosen, and in my peripheral I can see the pistol fall away from my head as his arms falls to his side. 

He’s letting his guard down. 

I shut my eyes, taking a shaky breath in through my nose. 

“You’re going to find them” he growls his orders at Tommy “And when you find them, I’m going to kill them” 

“Bill…” Tommy shakes his head, trying to be as polite as possible “Bill I can’t let you do that. If you kill them, they’ll only send you to jail… just let us take care of it-“

“TAKE CARE OF IT!” He screams, and I can’t help a whimper from escaping my mouth “YOU WERE SUPPOSED TO TAKE CARE OF MY FAMILY. BUT YOU DIDN’T-“

Tommy opens his mouth, to try and say anything that will calm him, appease him. But once bill has been set off, there is no taming the fire that is his rage. I should have known. There is no reasoning with a drunk man. 

With a grieving man. 

“No, no, this is your fault” I feel him nodding his head behind me as he points the gun at all of them “This is your fault, and you’re the ones who are going to fucking pay. YOU’RE ALL GOING TO FUCKING PAY”

His cry is the one of a final war cry, and I know what’s coming next. 

The next moments of my life feel like they are in slow motion. Suddenly the barrel of the gun is pressed straight up against my head again as he shoves it against my temple. The last thing I see is Tommy, Polly, and Arthur lunging forward, all shouting and begging for Bill to stop before it’s to late. 

This is it.  This is the last thing I’m going to hear.  The last thing I’m going to feel is the end of a pistol pressed again my skull, before I feel nothing at all. Please let it be painless. 

A single gun shot fires into the atmosphere. 

I expect nothingness. More black. Maybe heaven. Or hell. Though I’m not ever sure if I believed in God. 

But I feel myself breathing, my chest still rising and falling. I hadn’t even realised I had squeezed my eyes shut when they shoot open to find myself still in the office. 

I’m alive.

The first thing I see is Michael. His gun aimed not at me, but at where Bill had been standing.

It wasn’t Bill’s gun that fired. It was Michael’s. 

Bill is dead.

Everything washes over me all at once. Relief. Horror. Fear. Adrenaline. My head is pounding, and entire body feels like I’m floating. Completely weak and empty. Not strong enough to stand, and having lost all feeling in my body, I feel myself collapsing to the floor. 

Right before I hit the ground, I find myself falling right into a pair of arms. All noise is muffled, and I feel completely numb as I almost completely pass out for a moment. The only thing I can hear is the throbbing and pounding of my head. It’s not until I come back around moments later that I realise whose arms I’m in. 

They’re familiar arms. Strong. Firm. I’ve felt this exact grip before. They way the seem to hold me together. I thought I had forgotten how they felt. But I still know them anywhere. 

Michael. 

He scoops me up with desperation, and I don’t know who is clinging on to who as he holds onto me like its his life that depends on it. The only thing stopping me from crashing to the floor is him. His arms has envelope me completely, engulfing me in like a safety net. Wrapping me up in a way that I’ve only ever experienced with Michael. 

My body and mind still completely disoriented, I find myself only being able to cry. That’s the only thing that comes out. With my face buried in his chest, he holds the back of my head, pressing me so close to him I can barely even breath. But I don’t care. I’m alive. 

“You’re okay, you’re okay, I’ve got you” He chants frantically against my ear, and I can’t tell who he is trying to calm down more. Me or himself. 

Beneath his chest, I can hear his heart racing. It pounds loudly against my ear. His grip on me never lets up, he doesn’t budge whatsoever. He just holds me. Let’s me sob, staining through his shirt. Everything else fades out. Everything seems to go away. Not just Bill’s attack. It’s like the last few months haven’t even happened. Nothing else matters right now except for the fact that I’m in his arms. 

I feel a pair of trembling hands on my face and when I look up I find my eyes opening into Michael’s. His eyes are wide, panic filled and pooling with tears. As we stare at one another, it’s almost like he can’t quite believe I’m in his arms right now. Even though it’s over now, he still has residue terror all over his face. I know he thought that he was about to lose me for good. Forever. 

Up until now I’ve barely been able to take a full breath or even begin to stop hyperventilating. But something about the hold his eyes have on me begins to centre me. I feel myself being grounded. Like I’m coming back to my surroundings. Those serene blue eyes give me something to anchor to as the panic slowly but surely leaves my system. 

Without even meaning to we find our foreheads pressed to each others, his grip on my face still firm. 

“Look at me” his voice is barely a whisper, as it shakes, threatening to break completely “You’re safe”

Pulling me back into a hug, he grips onto me so tightly as if I’m going to disappear if he doesn’t. And I don’t want him to let go, because I feel like I might just break and crumble if I don’t have him holding all my pieces together.

TAGLIST 

@shadow-of-wonder

@marvelismylifffe

@saintd0lce

@haphazardhufflepuff

@peaky-things

@burnitup

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@ganjeolhiddaeng​

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@infinitelycharmed23

@chloeforde

@ashtronomyyyy

@livingforbarnes

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@elleclairez

@marvelschriss

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@hinagiku0

@beth-winchester21

@soleil-dor

@baker151910

@cherrytop02

[astronomyparkers]

Observant {II}

Warnings: Language

Pairing: Peter Parker x Michelle Jones

Word Count: 1.9k

A/N: alright SO once again we petermj stans have been blessed with content which has inspired me to continue this fic. originally, this was going to be the last part, but i have an idea for a third part so...there’s AT LEAST one more coming. I was going to combine it with this part, but I wanted part 2 to be in peter’s pov, and the next part to be in michelle’s pov, so that means more chapters!!!!! I really really hope you like this. please let me know if you do!! and again, please note I DO NOT HAVE A TAGS LIST!!!!! THE REASON WHY IS IN MY FAQ!!!! ANY/ALL MESSAGES REGARDING THIS WILL BE DELETED!!!!

{masterlist}

By the time Peter Parker realized he had fucked up, he was already home in bed.

The day had been as normal as the day of a teenage superhero in New York could be.  He had gone to school, aced an English pop quiz on Macbeth, and had lunch with Ned and Michelle.  He had even made Michelle laugh, an honest-to-God, uncontrollable laugh, with one of his jokes, which normally just earned him an eyeroll, and, occasionally, the smallest of smirks.  Next had come chemistry, where he began mixing a new batch of web fluid without anyone detecting him, and robotics club after that.  It wasn’t until he was patrolling after school that things had taken a turn for the abnormal.

When Peter had seen the car coming for Michelle, he first thought he wouldn’t make it to her in time.  The thought of not being able to save her…Peter turned over onto his back in bed, rubbing his eyes.  He couldn’t allow himself to think of what could have happened.  Instead, he focused on what did happen.  He saved MJ. He pulled her away from the car, he made sure she was okay, held her in his arms…

Peter cleared his throat, squeezing his eyes shut.  Holding MJ so close to him…he had liked it more than he should.

Michelle Jones had been a bit of an enigma for so long that when she began to open herself up to Peter, he had dived in head first.  Getting to know Michelle was a privilege that she didn’t grant to many people, and Peter didn’t take the gift lightly.  Every time Michelle let down a bit of her guard in front of Peter, he felt a sense of pride, which turned into affection, which turned into…

Peter wasn’t sure. He knew he admired MJ; she was one of the smartest people he knew, not just at school, but on the streets, too. She taught him all about social issues, helped him challenge himself in how he acted and the things he did, and so much more.  She was witty and honest and observant and beautiful.  To some, she was abrasive, but to Peter…she was everything.

Peter sighed to himself and rubbed his eyes again.  Everything wasn’t exactly how someone was supposed to think of their best friend.  And yet.

The events of that day entered Peter’s mind again.  He had pulled Michelle tight to him as he swung her away from the car crash, and checking to make sure she was okay had been just as much for him as it was for her.  He knew he wouldn’t have been able to leave until he knew MJ was okay.  And MJ, in her typical fashion, told him to go back to saving people.  He had nodded, reached for a high-five, and tried not to get flustered when she seemed flustered.  She had tucked her hair behind her ears, and he loved the look on her face.  He was almost upset when he had to say goodbye, but—

Peter’s eyes snapped open.  It was then that he realized his mistake.  And to make the mistake with Michelle, someone who noticed everything…

But then again, it could only have happened with Michelle. Michelle Jones was the only person who could make him so flustered that he forgot that Spider-Man didn’t know who she was, let alone her name, or her nickname (which she herself said only her friends called her).

“Jesus, Parker.” Peter groaned under his breath, sitting up in bed. “You idiot.”

Peter rubbed his forehead, trying to ward off the headache he knew was inevitable.  Calling Michelle by her nickname was second nature to him now, and he hadn’t been able to stop it from slipping off his tongue. But then again, she was shocked and dazed from the incident.  Maybe she didn’t notice.

Peter snorted as soon as the thought entered his head.  She was MJ.  Of course she noticed.  She noticed everything.  There was no point planning for what to do if she knew his secret.  Peter had to plan for how to approach the subject to her.  It was too late to do anything preventative. No, Peter had shut the door on that option the moment he was unable to shut his mouth.  Damage control, that was what he needed to do now.  It was the only thing he could do.

 When Peter made it to school the next day, he was a nervous wreck.  He had barely slept the night before, had hardly touched his breakfast. May even thought that he was sick, insisting on checking his temperature before he left the house.  Part of Peter thought that it would’ve been easier to lie to her and say he was ill, so that he wouldn’t have to face MJ at school. But Peter hated lying to his aunt, and besides…he wasn’t very good at it.  Instead, he took his usual subway train to school (with people giving him a wide berth due to his appearance), grabbed the books he needed from his locker, and made his way to his first class.

Michelle was already there when Peter arrived, sitting in her usual seat that was one row over and two rows up.  Her messy curls were tucked into her usual haphazard bun, and she was wearing a grey t-shirt with a blue jacket overtop.  Her posture was hunched over as she doodled in her notebook, paying little attention to those around her.  

Peter kept staring as he walked to his seat, sitting down smoothly and quickly.  Students were still filing in, moving between his line of vision to Michelle, but she still hadn’t looked up.

An uneasy feeling creeped into Peter’s stomach.  Was MJ mad at him?  Was she angry that Peter hadn’t trusted her with his secret?  When he had been running potential confrontation scenarios in his head last night, the possibility of her being angry hadn’t crossed Peter’s mind.

Steeling himself, Peter took a deep breath.  There was only one way to find out.

“Hey, MJ.” Peter called quietly across the desks.

Michelle looked up, glancing over her shoulder at Peter.  She gave him a curt nod before looking back down at her notebook.

The greeting, by anyone else’s standards, might have been a little icy, but it was a typical response from Michelle.  There was no way for Peter to tell if she was mad or not from that interaction.  He was about to get out of his seat and talk to her when the teacher called the class to order, and the opportunity was gone.

Peter spent most of the class staring at his friend, trying to see inside her mind.  Not for the first time, he wished that his spider-sense was less intuition and more telepathic.  If Peter had a nickel for every time he wished he could read MJ’s thoughts, then he would’ve been richer than Mr. Stark.

The moment the bell rang, he began making his way to her, but she already darted out of the classroom, headed to her next class.  Peter thought he’d find her at lunch, but she was mysteriously absent.

“Do you know where MJ is?” He asked Ned, looking around the crowded cafeteria.

“No.” Ned shook his head. “She’s probably reading a new book or something, and didn’t want us to interrupt her.”

“Yeah.” Peter echoed, still scanning the cafeteria. “Probably.”

 Peter struggled through all his classes that day, barely able to focus on the tasks at hand. When Peter saw Michelle in chemistry, she was still acting the same, like there was nothing wrong.  Was she really this unbothered by discovering his secret?  Peter wished he could share her carefree attitude; he had already sweat straight through his t-shirt, and had to change into a spare Midtown sweater from his locker.

Decathlon practice after school was the same story.  Michelle didn’t say anything to Peter before or during practice, and Peter was left staring at her as she asked the team questions.  He was so engrossed in his thoughts that he didn’t even notice any of Flash’s crude jokes at his expense.  All he could focus on was talking to Michelle.

Peter finally caught up with her after practice.  She was speaking to Mr. Harrington, so Peter dropped his notebook on purpose, the pages scattering everywhere.  He told Ned to leave the papers, that he could get them himself.  He took his time cleaning them up, just finishing as Mr. Harrington left the auditorium.  That was when Peter spoke up.

“Hey, MJ.” He swallowed hard, his mouth suddenly dry. “Can—can we talk?”

“Sure.” She walked over to him, handing him one of his papers that he had missed on the ground. “What do you want to talk about?”

“I-I just—yesterday, I—you know…” Peter trailed off, his ears flushing pink.  He couldn’t find the right words to say.

“Yesterday…what?” Michelle asked in confusion, her brow furrowed. “What about yesterday?”

Peter frowned. “What do you mean, what about yesterday?”

“I mean, I don’t know what you’re talking about, Peter.” Michelle pulled her backpack over her shoulder. “Did something happen yesterday?”

Peter nodded slowly. “The car crash…?”

“Oh.” Michelle’s face slipped for just a second before returning to her neutral expression. “Did you see that?  I didn’t spot you in the crowd…”

“You didn’t spot—you—” Peter faltered again. “What?”

“It was pretty busy, though, so I guess that’s why.” She shrugged. “Thanks for the concern, but I’m fine.”

“You’re…fine.  Right.  Because Spider-Man saved you.” Peter said slowly.

Michelle nodded. “Yeah.  You saw it, right?”

Peter blanked for a moment before stammering out a response. “Y-yeah!  Yeah, I saw it.  From the crowd, right.  It was…yeah. He saved you.”

“Lucky me.” Michelle said, glancing at her watch. “I’m kind of running late, Peter.  Was there anything else you needed to talk about?”

Peter’s breathing was evening out, his heartbeat finally slowing.  Was it possible…Michelle really hadn’t noticed? “No, that…that was it.  I just wanted to check up on you.”

“Okay.  Well…see you around.” Michelle waved slightly before exiting the auditorium.

“Yeah.  See you.” Peter said weakly, watching Michelle disappear.

Peter couldn’t believe his luck.  Had Michelle really not noticed Spider-Man call her MJ the day before?  He thought it couldn’t be true, but…maybe the adrenaline and shock of the entire incident had distracted her.  Maybe she really hadn’t noticed.  Maybe, for once in her life, Michelle Jones hadn’t been completely observant.

Peter breathed a sigh of relief, a small smile creeping onto his face as he exited the auditorium. For once in his life, luck seemed to be on his side.

 Michelle watched Peter walk down the steps of the school, a spring in his step.  When he reached the fence, he glanced around quickly before jumping over, landing smoothly on the other side.  He dusted himself off before continuing on his way. From her spot behind the stone steps of the school, Michelle sighed.  She really had no idea how Peter had kept his powers a secret this long.  But for now, she would help him do it.  After all, he had saved her life.  The least Michelle could do was save his secret.

Of course, neither of them knew the trouble that lied ahead, or how impossible that task would become.  All they knew was the buzzing feeling that came with protecting someone you cared about, and the lengths they would go to help the other person.  And really, in that moment, that was all that mattered.

For a moment, anyways.

[cblikeslainey]

Iris

Read on AO3

Lainey’s fingers strummed idly at her guitar. She didn’t feel much like playing at the moment, but she’d already caught up on all of her grading, and she didn’t feel like going home to an empty house. Especially when her stupid boyfriend was still in town. She strummed harder, frustrated. At least she could count on music as a release. Lainey turned up the volume on her amp. Music was always there for her, unlike the people in her life.

She didn’t notice CB enter for quite some time.

“Shit!” She exclaimed, startled. “I didn’t think anyone was still here!”

“I had Model UN, and then I had to grade my Literature and Comp papers,” CB explained.

He practically lived there.

“Do you want to tell me what’s wrong?” His voice was gentle.

CB was good at the whole dealing with emotions thing. Lainey, however, preferred to bottle hers.

“What makes you think something’s wrong?” Lainey deflected, as usual.

CB raised an eyebrow at her.

“Fine,” she sighed. He could see straight through her. Not that she was doing a particularly good job of hiding her emotions at the moment.

“Do you wanna talk about it?” 

“Over drinks?” she offered.

“Deal. I’ll drive”

Normally, Lainey might have protested, but after everything that had happened this week she wanted to get obscenely drunk, and if CB was going to enable that, who was she to tell him no?

Lainey refused to talk before having a drink. It was all too frustrating to deal with without alcohol.

It was relatively early, so the bar wasn’t too crowded. Lainey found them a couple of seats at the bar. The tables were too far away to order as much as she wanted to. 

“I’ll have a Shirley Temple,” CB ordered. “And I’ll buy whatever she’s drinking,” he told the bartender, gesturing to Lainey.

“Oh, no, you’re drinking tonight,” Lainey commanded.

“Who’s going to drive us home?”

Lainey reconsidered.

“We’ll call a cab,” she decided. She sent him a pleading look before turning back to the bartender. “He’ll have... a tequila sunrise, and a double shot of Johnnie Walker for me... And I can cover my own tab!”

CB sipped on his fruity drink while Lainey slammed back her hard liquor. He didn’t know how she did it. Years of practice, he supposed.

“Now do you want to tell me what’s bothering you?”

“Barry and I have been fighting.

CB hated the part of himself that rejoiced at her words. Not trusting himself to comment, he waited for her to continue.

“It all started when Barry missed the recital on Wednesday...”

Barry had decided to work late and changed his flight. He neglected to tell Lainey. It broke her heart when she didn’t see him out in the crowd.

Barry did eventually make it to Philadelphia... at nearly one in the morning. He let himself into Lainey’s house using a spare key she’d entrusted him with and loudly announced his arrival. 

“Laaaaaiiinnnneeeyyy, I’m home.”

It took her a moment to gather herself up, climb out of bed, and make her way to him. She was dressed in her Hello Kitty pajamas, her hair disheveled from sleep. She called out to him from halfway down the stair case.

“Barry, y'know I hate surprises.” Her sleep slurred words betrayed her annoyance. “What time’s it?”

“Nearly One A.M.” He chirped back at her.

“I have school tomorrow,” she whined. “The couch is made up. We’ll talk when I get home from work.”

She turned and stumbled back up the stairs before he could get in another word.

Barry was still asleep when Lainey got up for work in the morning. She found that he’d made her heart shaped pancakes and left them in the fridge. The note read, “For my Lainey love, xoxo Care-Bear”. She left them where they were.

“Why didn’t you eat my love pancakes?” Barry bore down on her when she came home. He could be just like his mother sometimes.

“Wasn’t hungry.” Lainey lied.

“You weren’t hungry for my love?” Barry laid on the guilt trip. It wasn’t working as he’d hoped.

“You sound just like Beverly. What are you going to say next? You've failed as a boyfriend?” It was a low blow and Lainey knew it.

“Hey!”

“I’m sorry, it’s just...” Lainey swallowed hard. “You really hurt my feelings when you missed the student piano recital.”

“I had to work, and there’s a spring recital every year,” Barry protested. “My job is very important. I’m a doctor.”

“That’s not the point, and you know it.” Lainey’s frustration was growing. “Those kids busted their asses and I was really proud of them. It was an important moment for me as a teacher. Every student’s success is a big moment to the teacher who helped them get there. Besides, my job is important, too, and I always make time for you.”

“You get to rock out all day. It’s not the same as doctor work,” Barry condescended, drawing the words out as if she were an idiot.

“You wouldn’t be a doctor without your teachers,” Lainey countered.

“You wouldn’t be alive without your doctor,” Barry retorted. It was an ill-matched response, but still one Lainey had a hard time arguing with.

“If you really can’t see how important my job is to me, then maybe we’re not right for each other after all!” She yelled, completely frustrated, and at a loss for anything else to say.

Lainey’s eyes stung with tears.

“Don’t even say that!” Barry roared back at her. “Ugh, I need to go nunchuck.” 

He ran off flailing his arms behind him.

Lainey knew Barry would never hurt her. Hell, he couldn’t if he wanted to, but an angrily nunchucking boyfriend in her house made her uneasy all the same. And she was still upset with him for missing the recital, for shitting on everything that was important to her, for not talking things out with her like a rational adult...

“...so I told him that if he was going to act like this, he could stay with his mother, and he could come back when he was ready to communicate like an adult.”

“Damn.” CB let a beat pass. “Another round,” he called to the bartender. “This time two double Johnnie Walkers.”

It wasn’t lost on CB how much it hurt Lainey that Barry didn’t understand their profession. Teaching had become everything to Lainey. It had helped her as much as she’d helped her students, and she was in a much better place for it. What they did made a difference, CB understood that better than anyone. That’s why it was his favorite job in the whole world.

Still, CB couldn’t imagine putting any job before Lainey Lewis. He’d do anything for her. There was nothing he wanted more than to give her the dependability Barry was denying her. But that’s not what she wanted, at least, not romantically, so he did the next best thing: he let her vent.

“And I can’t believe he still uses those nunchucks!” Lainey laughed a little at Barry’s expense.

“I think it’s worse that he uses nunchuck as a verb,” CB added, his English teacher shining through. He was afraid he was crossing a line with the comment, but Lainey smiled at him. 

The bartender sat their drinks in front of them. CB clinked his glass to Lainey and drank. He choked a little before finishing the shot, then shook himself a little at the taste and burning sensation. Lainey giggled at him.

“How do you knock ‘em back so easily?” He asked Lainey, his curiosity winning out.

“I started when I was fifteen,” she replied, confirming his earlier suspicions. 

“Were you and Barry a thing back then?” The words flooded out of his mouth before he could stop them.

“I think...” Lainey drew her words out. “I don’t want to think about Barry anymore tonight.”

That was something CB could easily get behind.

So, instead CB praised her on the successful recital. Of course, he’d been in attendance. He’d even shown up early to help set up. The conversation flowed easily from there. It always did between them.

As the night wore on Lainey found herself drinking considerably less than she’d originally planned. She still wasn’t anywhere close to sober, but she wasn’t ready to pass out or puke on anyone’s shoes just yet. She found CB could distract her from her problems as well, if not better, than alcohol. In spite of everything, she was having fun.

“Maybe it’s better that Barry an’ I are fighting. I doubt I’d’ve had this much fun with him tonight...” Lainey slurred. The words left her lips well before she could process them. She meant them, regardless.

CB’s hand reached out achingly close to her cheek. He longed to close the short distance and caress her face, to use his other hand to pull her to him, to lose himself in her kisses. 

Who was he kidding? He couldn’t come onto his best friend who had a boyfriend, who trusted him to support her while she was vulnerable. 

But was a little after two in the morning, he was as drunk as he could get with out barfing his lungs out, and this was Lainey Lewis. She was his dream girl. She was sitting right in the bar stool next to him, tantalizingly close. He could even smell her perfume. Today it was vanilla and lavender, intoxicating in its own right. She looked as beautiful as ever. Her blonde locks were down, a little unkempt; she’d worn it half up at school that day. With her tight jeans and revealing tank top under a leather jacket, she looked like something out of a dream. Her gorgeous green eyes were fixed on him, their expression adoring, and she’d just told him it was worth having her heart shattered just to be there having fun with him.

To hell with it. He reached forward and caressed her cheek. Lainey leaned into his touch, her eyes fluttering closed.

They remained like that for a moment. Lainey never wanted to hurt Barry. Even though he’d hurt her, a voice in her head nagged. It didn’t excuse anything. But this was CB. No one in the world made her feel so safe, so loved. And she was tired of fighting it, tired of pretending she didn’t love him back, and hopelessly desperate not to be alone right now.

She surged forward and kissed him. In that moment, it hit her that she and Barry were done. In that moment, with CB’s hand on her cheek and the other on the small of his back, their lips touching, she didn’t care. CB was all that mattered. She pulled him toward her, eager to have him as close as possible.

She didn’t care what the bar’s few last patrons thought, but the shame ebbed at her anyway.

“Let’s get out of here.” Lainey whispered into CB’s ear, punctuating the statement with a kiss on his neck.

They settled their tabs, and CB called them a cab.

Once they were in the cab, Lainey insisted that there would be one stop, and gave the cab driver her address. 

She knew it was wrong, but Lainey couldn’t resist the urge to make out with CB in the cab. As soon as the directions were out of her mouth, she turned to CB who was already leaning toward her. Their lips met again. They couldn’t get enough of each other. They didn’t stop until the cab did.

After paying and exiting the cab, they kissed their way into the house, up the stairs, and into Lainey’s bedroom. Lainey got bolder once they reached her room. She moved her hands down CB’s back and grabbed his ass with both hands, pulling him closer. He let out a low moan. It was hot; CB was hot, Lainey thought to herself. She began pulling off his clothes. He let her.

CB couldn’t believe he was here. He couldn’t believe he was kissing Lainey Lewis. He couldn’t believe he was in her bedroom. He couldn’t believe that she wanted him.

Lainey froze. 

“We- we can’t.” It broke her heart in a thousand ways. She wanted to be with CB. She wanted to show him that she loved him. She didn’t want to jerk his heart around. But the fact was, she was still with Barry. She couldn’t stand to hurt him anymore than she already had. And as much as they both fought it, they were impossibly tired.

CB couldn’t believe they did this. What they were doing was cheating. He couldn't believe he’d been so okay with it. He couldn’t believe he’d almost taken advantage of his vulnerable best friend. Maybe he already had.

“Right,” CB cleared his throat, and began to look for his pants, suddenly very embarrassed to be in his boxers. “I should go.”

Lainey caught his wrist. 

“Wait,” Her voice was small. “I don’t want to be alone tonight. Could you...could you hold me?”

He’d do anything for her. He nodded and sat on the bed.

Lainey had already flung off her jacket, but she still needed to take off her bra and put on pajama pants. She glanced over at CB. He was looking away like a gentleman. She wouldn’t have minded if he looked.

Lainey pulled back the covers and cuddled into CB. He held her close. She’d never felt more at home. She knew that tomorrow she faced the insurmountable task of breaking Barry’s heart, but right now even that seemed less daunting.

CB relaxed with Lainey snug in his arms. He fell asleep easily for someone who should’ve had a guilty conscience. 

Lainey kissed his cheek.

“I love you, CB,” she whispered when she was sure he couldn’t hear her.

[wafflewarriors]

The Not-So-French Mistake

Chapter 3: Fallen Ashes to Angels

In the cool shelter of the house, Castiel guarded Sydney as covertly as possible. The Winchesters and Bobby were present, but he felt it necessary he patrol the girl he had first gathered. His posture was ramrod straight and his shoulders were square to his spine; although, his muscles eventually tired from his stationary position. Humanity, he reasoned, cannot simply sit and be content. Their muscles exhaust too rapidly. This was where their impatience originated from, he supposed.

After an hour of waking only to supervise, he had noticed an aching emptiness centered within the pit of his stomach. Startled by the unpleasant experience, he had casually hunched into the couch as his stomach begged and craved food. He had, of course, once experienced this foreign desire when they had encountered Famine, but he had never become accustomed to such.

No one among him had seemed to satisfy their own hunger, so he assumed that it was a typical pain at this early hour. However, he found that throughout the day nobody mentioned any food of sorts, and the dull grumble of hunger grew into a slow starvation. He was inclined to slouch further into the couch cushions but decided against it. With a cautious eye pinned to the girl browsing their library, he entered the kitchen with an intent to raid the fridge.

Dean questioned his purpose, as always. “What's got you in such a hurry?”

Upon opening the fridge to find it bare, Castiel was experiencing a taste of humanity's impatience, and his clipped voice represented this. “Dean, there is a deep greed I have felt for several hours now. I have a great desire to ingest food, and I must eat or I will further suffer hunger.” Was this himself speaking? He hadn't meant his words to be bitter.

Dean’s lips curled upward in entertainment. “You know, you could say you're hungry like a normal person, Cas.” He sighed, “Yeah, we can eat. Hey, Sam; how about we go to the local diner for lunch? Cas here is getting hangry.”

“Hangry?” Castiel baffled in his own irritable way. “I believe it's pronounced―”

“Sounds like a plan.” Sam interrupted.

Castiel quieted when nobody acknowledged his question. He was only curious as to why Dean deliberately stressed the word hangry when he had said hungry only seconds before. Had he done so purposely? The English language was rather complex, he decided. Humans love to complicate their languages. Enochian was much more straightforward.

They looked expectantly to Sydney, who was uncertain. “I... I might stay back and research.” She extended the book she was skimming in an attempt to strengthen her plea.

Dean vetoed that. “No, no, sweetcheeks. We aren't losing you from our sight. Loco angels, remember?”

Castiel sent a sad, apologetic smile to Sydney from behind Dean's shoulder; it was his species, after all.

Bobby nodded to her. “Go on. Nothing here except the phones. We’ll dig into it further once you've had something to eat. I'll stay behind in case somebody calls.”

She squinted, yielding to the hunters’ hidden demand. While their politeness covered it neatly, it all broke down to the fact that she had to accompany them. She set her jaw and nodded grudgingly. Four against one was no fair argument.

She and Castiel trailed behind the Winchesters, the angel clarifying that she was under his surveillance. “Hangry?" he whispered to himself, wondering.

Sydney chuckled at the angel's innocence. If she wasn't currently a prisoner, she’d have found him to be good company. “Dean combined the words hungry and angry.”

“Oh, I see,” he said, though not really seeing.

●●●

The immediate rise of the temperature outside was alarming. Heat surged down fervidly onto the group. They were practically baking in their jackets... and a specific trench coat.

“Dog days this late, hm?” Dean was skeptical. “Well, take off your jackets or you will fry in the car. The air conditioning takes a few minutes to kick in.” He shrugged off his dad's old jacket, taking care to form it into a neat fold. His shirt hugged his form, showing his toned physique and aged scars.

Dean grasped the handle of the car door and hissed in pain when it seared with heat. The sun radiated off the car's reflection. “Jesus!” He exclaimed, inspecting his palm, which was thankfully free of burns. “That is hot.”

“We know you love your car, Dean.” Castiel chortled courteously, expecting his friend to have been joking. It was usual Dean-personality.

“No, that thing is hotter than the pits of hell. And I've been there.” Dean was sincere. His hand was now a light, sore pink, but thankfully the skin was intact. He cradled it momentarily. Using his shirt as a barrier for his hand, he wrenched the door open awkwardly. Hot air blasted out like a dragon breathing fire. “Well, get in.”

After several minutes of uncomfortable fidgeting in the oven-like seats and complaining over the fiery seatbelts, they took off with the windows cranked at their full capacity. With the constant whoosh of humid air rushing through the windows, so the car was merely warm. A rattle of Legos in the vent synched with rhythm of Sydney's heartbeat.

“So... Sydney. To hit two birds with one stone, we're going to the town we found you in. We’ve heard evidence of murder, and they haven't found the bodies,” Sam informed her delicately.

Dean turned down the radio a notch so he could speak and be heard over the windows and blasting rock music. “Y-ep. The creepy part? There, reportedly, had been a huge community bonfire exactly the night after they went missing. I'm going on a hunch here, but I'll take it the fire smelled like burning flesh and nonconsensual sacrifices.” Dean informed, glancing in his rearview mirror. “Hey, Cas, could you stick with her for the day? Sam and I just have this one case to look into.” Dean wrung his sweaty palms on his steering wheel and muttered, “Or maybe two if this sun thing doesn't chill out.”

Castiel nodded. He had been doing so since she had arrived, anyway. “I planned on it,” he replied happily.

Dean made a turn on the road and fidgeted miserably when the sun's light hit his lap, pooling heat onto his legs. “Okay,” he said finally, speaking over the open windows as he drove, “what is it with the supersun? It's almost fall. I feel like one of the ants we held magnifying glasses over when we were kids. This thing is microwaving us.” He briefly wondered if he could bake a pie in this weather. It surely would pay off for all their previous efforts among any work they accomplished.

Castiel considered the possibility. “You may be correct. Something could be magnifying the sun to create havoc.”

Dean’s eyes were fixated on the road, but he couldn't help glancing back in tired disbelief. Man, their lives just got weirder and weirder. “So what could we be looking at? Witches? Satanic worshipers? Demons? Monsters? A summoning? What do we got?”

Castiel brooded. “It takes a great amount of effort to reign the Sun, Dean. I'm not sure.” He shuffled, shirt clammy with sweat. “They would need to be incredibly powerful.”

“Right.”

Oddly enough, as they entered the town, traffic had not seemed to accumulate. The roads were barren of any vehicles, and as they approached the town, they promptly discovered why.

Pedestrians riddled the sidewalks under the grilling sun, their faces flushed and dehydrated. There were at several people arguably ill to heat stroke.

Dean parked the car abruptly, eyes widening at the disorder of people. He turned to his friends: "Scratch everything I said. Some of these folks need to get to the hospital. Now. The murders can wait before more deaths occur because of our overly sociable sun.” Not a dot of leniency stood in his tone, expecting their immediate service to secure the town, which was reasonable.

Sam looked ready to protest, but Dean shut him right up. “Sam,” he spoke dangerously, “something screwy is going on with that sun, and if we don't act now, there won’t be a town to save! Cas, Sam, Pug-face, I need you to gather some townspeople, and watch her, Cas. I have to park this baby in the shade before we haul these strangers to the nearest hospital.”

There was no time to dwell, so with Sydney's shrunken, annoyed pip of, “Pug-face?”, everyone was scrambling out of the car. Cas and Sydney headed to the left while Sam sprinted right. They didn't bother checking for traffic; the asphalt had been deserted once people realized they could griddle an omelet on its surface.

The town was in a fragile state. The sky had become stale, altering from a beryl blue to an ashen grey as the sun cloaked the atmosphere with a withering glare. Ruddy, rich soil had crisped into a cinder-like dust. The budding, lush greens of trees had faded to a tarnished, mossy hue. As the heat elevated, the saturation crumbled.

Sam found his shoes sticky with softened bitumen from the road. He dashed toward a feverous woman, a victim to the cruel weather. She swayed, rocking on their heels in misery. With a parched, dry mouth, she begged, “Water. Please―”

Sam promised almost pitifully, “We'll get you water. We’ll get you water, okay? They'll have water at the hospital. I swear.” He prayed that to be true and that the curse had only struck upon this town. If the entire globe was suffering against a Hulked-out, mammoth sun, an immense epidemic would occur, and it would become outside of the Winchester's hands to solve it.

Sam supported the woman as she staggered clumsily. Her sweat dripped and sizzled on the concrete, and her brow was furrowed into a distressing, hazy determination as she struggled to remain conscious.

Across the street, Cas and Sydney had their hands full. Cas was carrying a frail child in his arms, her face flushed and scarlet. Sydney provided assistance to a young man; his steps wavered, so overtaken by blistering temperatures it ached to focus upon the mere idea of walking.

Dean had fortunately parked in some nearby shade, and the chattering of the engine echoed like an impish cat. The heat couldn’t have been good for Dean's beloved car, but he had set aside materialistic issues and had dug into the true stakes at hand: the lives of innocent civilians and children.

Now with the heat-stricken people stuffed inside the Impala, Dean took charge. He spoke through the window, voice sharp and commanding, “You guys help the rest of the people get shelter and water, and help yourselves too. I mean it―I don't want to come back and drag you all to the hospital as well, you understand?”

His friends nodded in unison, and Dean then mirrored the action. “Okay. I should be back soon. Don't do anything stupid!” He aimed a finger pointedly at Sydney. “Especially you, Sparky.” With that, he revved the engine, and then drove off.

They got straight to business, heading toward the groups of people who had scarcely kept from stewing in the daylight.

However, as Sydney drew nearer to her assignment, she slowed as the sun flushed heat against her sweaty back. The people about her were in such grave conditions, but she couldn't find it in herself to care much at the moment. “I'm going to go…” she pointed lazily, “uh… get water...” she let them know sluggishly, endeavoring to sound as casual as allowed at that moment.

Castiel looked sternly to her, seeing past her weak facade. “Dean does not want us doing something regrettable. Especially you. I believe going on your own counts as such.”

Hearing Dean's snarky words through the angel's mouth was comedic. The comment became totally unlike Dean: uncertain and... unusually gentle.

Sydney almost chuckled, but she was too exhausted, hot, and dehydrated to manage it. God, I feel sick, she thought miserably as her stomach twisted and clenched in nausea, not realizing her apparent prayer. “Cas. I really―”

Then, he was in the way, blocking her path stubbornly. She feebly pushed but found him encouraging her to rest on the sidewalk amongst the townsfolk and lean against a shaded, brick wall.

A habit of saying or thinking his Father's name in vain usually lead to accidental prayers. “Sam will do so. You are growing ill.”

She searched for her voice, and once she’d found it, she weakly argued, croaking, “But I want to help―”.

“I have been assigned to serve amongst the ill, and now you are included amongst them, so I shall tend to you.” He asserted faithfully, concern clouding his features. “I wish I could heal you.” 

He found his predicament highly counterproductive. If only he could have utilized his wasted grace upon the suffering people in this town. If only he had clutched further onto it before it snuck past his impatient fingers. The circumstance made him resentful and upset, realizing he could have accomplished something just yesterday.

A time as simply distant as 24 hours ago, yet he could do nothing now.

[whatdoyoumeanitsnotawesome]

Ship meme: Wayne and Katy 5, 9, 10

ship headcanon meme from THIS POST (check it out if you haven’t already)

5. Who says ‘I love you’ first?

That depends on how you’re counting. Katy says the words, easy as breathing, has done since she could talk, no problem. It’s never a formality or a reflex, it’s 100% genuine every time she says it. Wayne only says it a handful of times, but he shows it every day, cooking and doing dishes together, planting her favourite flowers in the vegetable patch, carrying the basket of wet laundry for her so she can peg it out, bringing her coffee in bed for their traditional Sunday morning lie-in.

Once Katy told him she was thinking about keeping bees, to save them some money instead of hiring them every Spring for pollination. So he looks up plans and builds her some boxes the very next day. He calls around town to find a hive that someone wants shot of, and buys a secondhand but still-in-good-nick spinner and a beesuit and veil. It’s worth it, the splinters and stings and running around, all of it, when she pops the first bite of honeycomb into his mouth and smiles at him.

9. What is the most embarrassing thing they have done in front of each other?

This one’s tough, because they’re never really uncomfortable enough with each other that they get embarrassed.

The first time they get drunk, like, properly drunk, they’re in their study room, chilling on the secondhand loveseat they got from Uncle Eddie and Aunt Marian. They’re sixteen tomorrow, and consider themselves very grown up, capable of handling pretty much anything, including liquor. Their parents are the lax sort, so they’ve had a wee dram here and there, usually in tea, or warm milk with honey if they’re ill.

Tonight though, it’s the day before their birthday, they’re supervision-free, it’s the height of summer, and their parents are away on a date, so the twins decide to start their revels early. They nick the whiskey from the kitchen and make sure to load up on snacks to bring upstairs with them so they don’t have to chance sneaking back down to the kitchen after their parents get home. Very responsible, very forward-thinking; they’re totally nailing adulting. They’re not even going anywhere, so they can’t possibly get into too much trouble, right?

Wrong.

They’re getting quietly tanked, chirping an old episode of MST3K, and booze is as booze does, so Katy has to wee. She stands up to go, or rather, she tries to stand up. All the alcohol goes to her head all at once, and she immediately over-balances. The only thing that saves her from taking a header into the coffee table is Wayne throwing his arms around her and pulling her back into his lap. Concussion successfully avoided, yay, but the pressure around her middle only exacerbates her original problem.

‘Wayne, you gotta let me up, I gotta go.’ She pats his arm, tapping out.

‘You gonna be alright?’ Wayne seems sceptical, but releases her nonetheless. It’s not fair he sounds so much more sober than she feels.

‘I’ll be fine, I just wasn’t expecting it.’ To be honest, Katy’d expected being drunk to feel kinda similar to smoking pot, which she’s pretty used to by now. She stands up much more slowly this time, moving very deliberately, and makes her way to the washroom between the study and their bedroom. Her fingers refuse to cooperate with the pocket door and the button of her shorts, but she does eventually get things sorted before she gets too desperate.

While she’s sitting there, she decides to make things easier on her future self and change into pyjama shorts. She’s a genius, she’s handling this so well. The pocket door to the bedroom gives her just as much trouble as the one leading to the study. Rather than tempting Fate by attempting to stand on one leg, Katy sits on the bed to get changed. She’s just pulling her shorts up when Wayne chooses that moment to bang on the door.

‘Are you okay in there?’ he calls through the door.

‘I’m just putting on some pyjamas.’

Wayne sounds disgruntled. ‘It’s been twenty minutes. I thought maybe you’d fallen again.’

Awwwwwww. He was always looking out for her. Katy slides the door open and leans against the frame, smiling. ‘Were you worried about me?’

Wayne’s habitual squint is a bit uneven, so maybe he’s not as unaffected as she thought. Good to know. ‘I don’t wanna hafta explain to our parents that I’m suddenly an only child, no.’

Witty as ever. ‘C’mon, let’s go back to the sofa.’ Katy slides an arm around Wayne and they lean against each other as they walk a little unsteadily back to the loveseat. Once they’re settled back down, they keep absently nibbling their snacks and passing the whiskey back and forth. It gets late enough that they hear the truck coming up the laneway, and they share a moment of visceral, heart-stopping paranoia, like somehow their parents are gonna just know, via telepathy or some other Spooky Parent Power.

Normality reasserts itself when after a couple of minutes, there’s a complete lack of doors opening and shutting. Wayne barely leans out the window before he registers the slight sway of the truck, and for the sake of his sanity he launches himself backwards before he can see anything unfortunate, but he hadn’t counted on Katy being right behind him and he bowls them both over in his haste.

‘Oof,’ is all she says, staring up at the ceiling. A moment of silence passes between them before Wayne speaks.

“They’re gonna be in the truck a while.’

Another moment of silence while this works its way through Katy’s brain. ‘Oh my God,’ she moans, voice full of despair, ‘we have to ride in that truck!’ She rolls over next to him and buries her face in his shoulder. ‘I really, really wish you hadn’t’a said that.’

Wayne sighs, puts his arm around her shoulders, and pats her sympathetically. ‘Sorry, kiddo, but if I have to suffer, so do you.’

‘That is not covered under for better or for worse,’ she says, muffled.

‘Twins for life, honey. No getting divorced.’

Katy raises her head to look at him and digs her pointy little chin into his ribs extra hard, just ‘cos she can. ‘You’re a terrible person. I’m gonna trade you in.’

Wayne adopts the snootiest Customer Service voice he can muster. ‘I’m afraid the sixty-day return policy has lapsed.’ He grins. ‘You’re stuck with me.’

She hums, ‘Well, if that’s the case. I suppose you do have your uses.’ Katy snuggles closer and lays her head back down. ‘You’re pretty comfy, for a start.’

‘Oh, well. As long as I’m useful.’

‘Like a good piece of furniture. Decorative and sturdy.’

They giggle quietly until they hear the back door open and shut. There’s the sound of feet on the stairs, and then a quick tapping at the study door as their parents wish them goodnight in passing, and they warmly return the sentiment from their spot on the floor.

When they hear their parents’ door close, Katy whispers, ‘There’s one way to try and erase that image.’

Wayne nods. ‘That’s a Texas-sized 10-4.’

They relocate back to the sofa again, piling pillows on one end and stretching out across it as they resume passing the bottle back and forth. Eventually, the television switches over to a new programme, and by that time, their parents’ snores are echoing through the house. They’re both so relaxed it almost feels like a Sin, breaking the peace, but Katy’s had the most excellent idea and it would be rude and selfish if she didn’t share it.  

‘Hey, Wayne,’ she queries.

His hand pauses petting her hair. ‘Katy Kat?’

‘Wanna go have a smoke on the roof?’

Oh, that’s class. ‘I’d have a dart.’

The biggest benefit to their room being on the complete opposite side of the house from their parents’ is that it’s practically soundproof. They don’t hear any night noises they don’t wanna hear, and they get easy access to the roof via the porch gable and the big window in the study. Wayne gets the gear from the sock drawer and they climb out on top of the porch, only a little wobbly. From there, Wayne hoists himself up onto the roof proper, then pulls Katy up after, and they settle in for a dart and a joint respectively. They’re flushed and warm from the drink, and the smokes go straight to their heads, leaving them dizzy and giggly; but the night air is bracing and helps cool them off.

They lay back together and point out all the constellations they can remember, then start making up new ones and giving them the most ridiculous backstories they can come up with. After about half an hour, the whiskey jacket wears off and Katy gets cold enough she wants to go inside. Getting down is a lot more of a challenge than getting up had been. Any other time they’d just jump for it, or else they’re sneaking out and shinning it down the tree, but those are both too noisy to be real options. They eventually work out that they have to sit down and then lower themselves in a weird sort of reverse pull-up type manoeuver. Or, well, Wayne has to lower himself and then lift Katy down. There’s a close call as she shifts her weight forward when he’s not expecting it, but they recover and no one falls or breaks anything, so they carefully climb back in the window.

Safely ensconced back on the couch, they’re in that space between drunk and sober where judgement has left the building, but you’re absolutely certain you’re making an unbiased, totally objective decision to have another drink. Killing the last third of the bottle seems like a brilliant idea. Things take a sharp nose-dive from that point. Where before they’d been slowly sipping at the whiskey, now they take gulps; after all, they’d handled it so far, right? The television plays softly in the background, but they’ve long since lost the plot. Whatever’s going on, it involves a robot, a Cat-man, an idiot, and some prick with an H on his forehead. Drunchies are no joke, and before they know it all the snacks have mysteriously disappeared and they’ve no memory of finishing them.

That was the tipping point, it seems, because the nausea comes on, creeping up like a thief in an alley, the heartburn and the churning bile and the spins, and oh fuck, the spins. Katy’s head feels tight like a migraine, but also weirdly floaty, like she’s too high. Wayne’s not doing much better himself, breathing slow and heavy and focussed on one spot on the ceiling to try and quell the urge to spit. If they’re very, very still, they might be able to power through this.

Luck is not on their side. Katy needs the bin, now. She turns to ask Wayne to grab it and-

A strangled ‘Wayne,’ is all the warning he gets before Katy hurls right in his lap. For a moment, he’s too stunned to do anything, but then she retches and does it again, and that’s what triggers his gag reflex, the sound and the smell and the warm liquid splash, and Wayne tosses his cookies even as he’s reaching for the rubbish bin. That sets Katy off again, and they’re caught in a vicious cycle of calling Huey until there’s nothing left in either of them to bring up.

They have to use every towel in the bathroom to clean up the mess, dry heaving the whole time, until it’s as good as they’re going to get it in the middle of the night. They rinse their mouths out and brush their teeth very gingerly, trying not to set off another round of gastrointestinal rebellion. Katy still feels hot and woozy and not a little gross, and she refuses to get in bed like this and mess up the nice, clean sheets. Wayne doesn’t exactly smell like a bed of roses either, so they sluice off and get into fresh, non-puky pyjamas. Katy’s head is clear enough by then that she has the foresight to make them both drink some goddamn water and take some aspirin before they get in bed.

The next morning is a special level of Hell, ‘cos it turns out their parents are totally on to them. Busted. As if being wretchedly hungover weren’t punishment enough, their parents make sure to be extra loud and unsympathetic to their misery. Birthday pancakes bring no joy, the smell of frying bacon is revolting, and the very idea of anything as acidic as orange juice has them both on the razor’s edge of being ill again.

Wayne and Katy Suffer through breakfast and cleaning up the kitchen after, until some buckets, brushes, and heavy-duty surface cleaner are shoved into their hands. They trudge upstairs and start scrubbing the puke out of the floorboards. Every part of the sofa needs to be cleaned as well; the cushions, the upholstery, the cover. Even the remote for the television. All of this on top of their regular chores leaves them shaky and exhausted by lunchtime.

The bollocking they get is definitely well-deserved, but neither of the twins has the strength to tolerate it. Wayne just crawls under the table and lays face-down and still, waiting for death, and Katy pillows her abominably sore head on her arms and tunes out until it’s over. They’re grounded for the foreseeable future, and just to make sure they don’t have any time to get into any more mischief, they’ll be doing chores over at Uncle Eddie’s as well as at home. The only pity they’re shown is a sleeve of dry crackers and some ginger beer to settle their bellies. The rest of the day is spent hauling bales and mucking stalls.

After dinner they go straight to bed, no shuckin’ and jivin’. They pinkie swear that next time, they’re gonna take about fifty percent off the whiskey and double down on the water. They grow up to be champion lushes, the pair of ‘em.

10. What two songs, two books and two luxury items do they take to a desert island?

Katy:

Music: House of Tom Bombadil by Nickel Creek, ‘cos Katy’s secretly a huge Nerd, and A Thousand Years by Christina Perri even though it’s so Basic White Girl, because no matter how cheesy, she genuinely loves it.

Books: The Secret Garden by Francis Hodgson Burnett (her favourite since childhood,) and How to Invent Everything by Ryan North, a surprisingly useful survival guide.

Luxury Items: A tarpaulin, because Katy’s nothing if not Practical, and sunscreen for Wayne, ‘cos he’ll never think of it and he burns like paper.

Wayne:

Music: Wayne actually has the most rubbish taste in music. If he likes anything good, it’s purely by accident. He brings a cover of Can’t Hold Us by Macklemore as Gaeilge and Animals by Nickleback.

Books: Le Petit Prince by Antoine De Saint-Exupery. It’s his favourite, and it’s set in a desert, so. And since he knows every word off by heart in English and in French, to keep him engaged he’ll also bring Seven Pillars of Wisdom by T. E. Lawrence. Sure, it’s on-theme and all.

Luxury Items: A flint and a hammer hatchet. With these he can make simple tools, and with simple tools he can make complex tools, and with complex tools he can make anything.

(Edit: I only just now realised that perhaps this meant two total, as in one of each item for each of them, rather than they both bring two of each item. Oh, well. What’s done is done.)

[chelinka93]

Building a Nest: Shopping - Part 2

This was originally suppose to have a bit more in it, buts its already over 1000 words as is. So i figure ill make next part super long to wrap up everything in this section. Once again thanks to @bnha-love-imagines for letting me use her (rather grumpy this time) OC Mariska and being an amazing person to bounce ideas off. (and just being amazing in general really)

She honestly expected it to end there.

Really, she did.

Even after her and Mariska parted ways and she finally went home to the sweet welcoming embrace of her bed and generally going on with her life, she should have expected to never seen the girl again. and be pleased that she imparted a small smidgen of her shopping wisdom.

She should have.

Yet she wasn’t surprised in the slightest when she ran into her at the store again.

She was halfway into the store when she heard someone call out her name. Turning, there was Mariska who attentively made her way toward her only to stop as she saw Varis.

“W-what are you wearing?”

‘Is she squinting? Hmm, I wonder why? Can’t possible be my bright ass yellow jacket.’

For a moment, Mariska seemed a mix between stunned and blinded. Something that was quite understandable really. Considering the last time, Varis was wearing her mostly black hero costume only covered by her tattered ass dark coat.

Bit of a change compared to her bright yellow coat, blue plaid scarf and faded  jeans she wore now.

Smirking, she twiddled her fingers in front of Mariska’s face, hoping to snap her out her stupor.

“Can I help you with something squirt?”

Mariska seemed to blink out her bright jacket induced stupor before focusing on the amused woman in front of her.

“I, uh...”

“Yessssssss?” Varis made sure to draw out the question, maybe enjoying the kids discomfort a bit too much.

“Was wondering if you would continue to teach me more about shopping?”

“Ooh? shall we also get our nails done as we talk about cute boys?”

Que withering stare.

“You KNOW what I mean.”

“What, didn’t get enough last time?”

“Last time? When you practically flew out the door once I said I got all I needed, only leaving me with the remark, and I quote: ‘I hope you know how actual paying works cause if you don’t your fucked.’”

“What can I say? I’m a fountain of wisdom.”

“Could you PLEASE, teach me more?” Mariska was clearly exasperated with Varis’ antics.

Honestly, it was too much fun.

But…

“I’m surprised that your willing to subject yourself to my company again. Wasn’t last time enough?”

“You clearly have more to teach, considering how long you went on about the pros and cons of instant coffee vs. coffee beans.”

“Hey its an important subject for a young adult to know. No fucking way are you getting through your next few years with out some sort of caffeine in your system.”

As fun as it was, there were still certain questions that need to be answered first.

“More importantly then the quality of caffeine you’ll be addicted to, don’t you have anyone else to come with you? Friends?”

“No.”

“Family?”

“No.”

Varis quirked an eyebrow at that last answer, a rather vehement one at that.

‘Problems with blood eh? Mhmm, can’t really say anything on it. Family is why I’m here in this hero crazed country to begin with.’

At that thought she scowled slightly.

‘For fucks sakes Aunt Robin, why do have to be such a damn diva?’

Mariska jerked as she contemplated her MIA aunt and seemed to be staring at Varis with renewed curiosity.

“Something on my face kid?”

“You’re not going to ask me about it.”

A statement not a question. She seemed certain that Varis wouldn’t go poking into that subject...

and she was right.

‘Not bad instincts kid.’

They stared at each other for a moment before Varis cleared her throat making Mariska jump.

“Welp, if you really want to bath in my glorious wisdom, who am I to turn away a willing pupil.”

And with that statement, Varis swept towards the carts. Nearly hitting Mariska in the face with the tassels of her scarf.

With a huff, Mariska trailed along behind her getting her own cart.

“You seem far more… talkative today.”

“A fine thing, 10 hours of sleep. Does wonders for not only the complexion but also the temperament.”

“I thought the recommend amount was 7-9 hours?”

“Well, one of those hours I spent in a delightful doze listening to the twittering of birds and the moaning of the poor chumps who have a steady office job and have to get up early.”

“I… see…”

“So yes, your astute in your observation that I am indeed full of sass and booze today.”

“I thought the expression was full of sass and beans?”

“Not in this case.” she sing-songed, making sure to clearly pat the pocket where her lovely flask was.

Instead of looking dismayed like last time the most Varis got was a twitch of Mariska’s eye.

‘Poo, don’t tell me my choice of beverage is losing its shock factor already?’

Mariska dint respond any further, she just threw her bag into her cart and looked at Varis expectantly.

‘Eh, Ill figure out something else. But for now, lets see if there’s any hope for the future generation.’

With a grand flourish, Varis began ushering Mariska into the store.

“Come along then little bird! Let me show you how to tell when your paying for cereal and when you’re just paying for sugar with bran flakes in it.”

All in all, the outing went rather well. Mariska proved to be a good listener and was very committed to getting the most for her money.

‘Defiantly someone who has problems with family or no family at all. Most likely relying on own income to provide for herself. Or she’s a runaway- ‘

“SO,” Mariska began loudly, cutting off Varis’ thoughts. “how did I do?”

“Looking for a grade kiddo?” she teased as they pulled into the checkout lane.

Another withering stare, those had become more common throughout their trip.

“I’d give you a B”

“A B??”

“Yea, for Butt.” Varis announced proudly, making the man in front of them look back in slight concern.

“Butt, really?”

By the look on Mariska’s face she was done with all this about 20 minutes ago.

“What? You called me that several times earlier.”

 “And you deserved it each and every time.” was the deadpan response as she began to unload her goods.

After everything was all bought and paid for, Mariska fidgeted with her bags before finally asking:

“Could we do this again?”

“Still not sick of me?”

“No, that shipped sailed last time and then even further away this time.”

“Aww, such a sweet young thing, much charm.”

“You still know a lot, and I wont deny its been handy so far.” Mariska shifted the bags around some more, reaching into her pocket. “So what do you say?”

“Ah, you convinced me. Very well! we shall meet again when the fates align!”

“Or we use this marvelous invention called a phone to figure out good timings for both of us.”

“Take all the mystery out of why don’t you.”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Technically, it’s a yes or no question AND a request for my number so…”

“If I had more money I would not hesitate to unload this entire carton of eggs into your face.”

“Fine, Fine. number swapping it is.”

The two swapped numbers, more then ready to both go on their own way. But since she had such a lackluster response to her booze comment earlier, Varis decided to have one last bit of fun.

“WELL.” she began loudly, making sure to catch Mariska’s attention before she went on her way.

“Catch ya latter kid.”

And before Mariska had time to respond, Varis winked out of sight.

Smug with her day and pleased with the fact that patrol was another few hours away, Varis made her way home with a spring in her step.

‘A shopping buddy huh? I would prefer not to give out my number but hey, its only one kid.’

 Right?

Narrator voice: It would be soon that she realized that her last statement was hopelessly, hilariously, wrong.

***and i feel it prudent to mention, Varis will rarely ever be this chipper in future chapters. Its as she said, 10 hours sleeps does wondrous things. Its probably for the best, otherwise I think Mariska might murder her if Refreshed!Varis became a common occurrence, she is kinda grating. :P ***

Thanks for reading! as I said, next and probably final part of this section will be much longer and will probably take longer to come out.

[thatbluegibson]

CH 58

The remaining weeks dragged by with both Liz and Dave immersed in their commitments. When Dave wasn’t at rehearsals, he was in the studio with Josh listening to the Vulture’s B-sides, jamming and woodshedding towards workable material. Liz had finished her dance lessons and was busy with the script details, reading and reworking her lines, building and researching her character and racing back and forth to costume fittings that had been moved to Portland for her convenience. They somehow fell into a steady routine of texts and brief phone calls, just enough contact to feel connected, but not nearly enough to dull the ache of missing each other. 

Liz made a point to wear whatever Foo Fighters merch she had whenever she knew she would be photographed, purposefully overkilling it with a FF tour shirt and hoodie when she was invited to a Hollywood Vampires show. She had taken her father as her date and he had worn his well loved Nirvana shirt, purchased in January 1994 when he had taken Liz to see the biggest music phenomenon since The Beatles. The look on Johnny’s face when he saw Liz and her father backstage almost made her feel bad, he had invited her after all, but she wanted to be very clear about where her affections lay.  

Dave had saved every paparazzi picture of her to his phone, looking back on them when he felt the urge to book a ticket to see her. She wore the same slight smile in every photo, one that rebuffed every question that was flung at her. Yes, he was still in her life even though they were thousands of miles apart. The questions flung at him, however, were a bit more intrusive and it took an exhausting amount of energy to keep himself from shoving an insanely expensive camera up these ill-mannered cameramen’s asses. How low does someone have to be to ask a man what his girlfriend is like in bed in front of his children? He remained poised and dignified, but was in the process of hiring more security to quell the onslaught. 

*

Dave squinted down at his phone, trying to read the headline notification in the dimly lit parking lot. Liz had already left for England that afternoon, calling him from the airport to let him know that the studio had swung for a private jet and that she and Johnny would be stuck in a ‘fucking beer can together for twelve hours, so don’t be surprised if you hear he’s been murdered’ as she so eloquently put it. They ended the call with her making him laugh, a ‘miss you’ and ‘see you soon’, though Dave knew he wouldn’t be able to set foot on British ground until May and April was just beginning. His phone read that Liz had been spotted at LAX, but that couldn’t be right. She said she was going to Heathrow straight from Portland. There must have been an editing error…

“Hey!” Josh jogged across the parking lot from the line of bikes where a crowd had formed, “You have to come see this bike, man.”

Dave ashed his cigarette and followed him over, weaving his way through the leather vests and helmets to where Josh’s tall frame stood above the rest of the crowd. He looked over the bike in front of them while Josh practically giggled with excitement. “It’s a 1921 stock HD,” he explained and looked around, “never been touched and the chick that rode it in is a fucking stone fox.”

Dave admired the bike’s fairly pristine condition and wondered if it was a barn find when he heard her laugh through the crowd. She had that loud, melodic, unrestrained and genuine laugh that was almost a rarer find in LA than the bike in front of him. He turned towards the sound and spotted her a few feet away with her back to him, surrounded by several people in matching leather vests as they gradually made their way towards the back door of the bar.

Josh followed his stare and nodded to her. “Yeah, that’s her. She rode up on this. She’s a babe as is, but with this bike? God damn.”

“She’s… she’s something,” Dave said quietly. He recognized her leather leggings, high top Vans and cropped leather jacket from the night he met her, though she was wearing a loose white shirt this time. She walked with the small group of men in leather vests letting them go inside without her while she hesitated at the back door.

“Dude, she’s alone. Go talk to her into going home with you,” Josh nudged him with his elbow.

“I don’t know, man,” he tried to hide a smile as he watched her tap out a text on her phone, “She seems like she’d kick my ass just for suggesting it.”

“Fuck, dude,” Josh pinched a cigarette between his lips and lit it, “A girl that hot? I’d pay her to kick my ass.”

Dave felt his phone buzz in his pocket and before he fully realized what he was doing, started towards Liz. She was still engrossed in whatever was on her phone screen, not bothering to look up until he was almost on top of her. Her face broke into an elated smile in the split second before he shoved her against the brick wall and kissed her. She giggled happily against his lips, gasping when he pinned her against the cold brick with his upper body. He whispered to her between kisses, I missed you, so much, I missed you. He had only meant to surprise her, kiss her quickly and then ask what the hell she was doing in LA, but the moment she put her arms around him all he could think about was getting her out of there and to the nearest bed or backseat. Damnit, why didn’t he drive the van? She was all dark red hair, vanilla chapstick, leather and skate shoes, and she was all over him. She tangled her fingers in his hair at the nape of his neck and it all felt remarkably similar to the night at the Roxy when he kissed her behind the equipment boxes.

“Let the poor girl breathe, Dave!” Josh yelled from the row of bikes in the parking lot.

Dave felt Liz’s right hand leave his neck, probably to flip Josh off, but she pulled away from him anyways.

“You’re supposed to be somewhere over Canada right now,” he whispered, still holding her head in his hands.

“The studio wanted a meeting in LA before we left, so I’m here until tomorrow night,” she looked unsure, as if he wouldn’t be completely thrilled that she managed to swing some time with him.

“How did you know I was here?” he asked. He had called Josh after talking to Liz, afraid to be alone with his thoughts while knowing she was trapped in such close quarters with Depp. 

Liz blushed a little and looked down at her shoes, “Taylor helped me out.”

Dave grinned at the thought of Liz and his best friend planning all this behind his back and leaned in to kiss her again, but she pressed her hands against his chest to stop him. 

“I’m gonna go so you can hang out with your friends, but I just wanted to see you before I left,” she whispered and tried to side step away.

“You just got here,” he quickly moved to grab her hips in case she made a break for it. If she was going to leave, he was going with her and fuck everyone else.

Liz looked over his shoulder as another group of motorcycles rumbled into the parking lot, momentarily pausing to stare at a stunned Josh, “No, I should really go,” she forced a smile, “My flight isn’t until nine so I can see you tomorrow if you’re free.”

“Please stay” he leaned down and softly kissed her neck, smiling when she whined at the feeling.

“Dave, it’s the Rainbow,” she sighed, more out of pleasure than annoyance, “No one wants their girlfriend lurking about here.”

“Do you think I have a herd of groupies in there waiting for me?” he leaned back a little to see her face.

Liz shrugged, “I don’t know what you get up to when I’m not around!” she laughed when he glared at her. “Fine. I’ll stay for one beer. One.” She held her finger up in his face to drive her point home, but Dave shoved her hand away and kissed her again while running his hands down her sides to feel her pockets for her keys. Finding them tucked into her jacket, he shoved them into the front of his jeans before unceremoniously pushing away from her and walking towards the bar’s back door.

“Honestly David, that’s not much of a deterrent,” she called after him before he disappeared into the dark doorway. She leaned back against the wall again to catch her breath and maybe warn Andy that she would be staying longer than originally planned.

“So do you two know each other or is that how I should introduce myself as well?” Josh called from his spot further away.

“I’d say it’s my preferred greeting method, but I’m scared to death of your wife,” she replied and finished her text to Andy, looking up when he came closer to her.

Josh exhaled sharply in a laugh, blowing smoke from his cigarette above his head, “Yeah, I’m scared of her too. Mean as hell, that one.”

Liz smiled, she liked Josh already, and held her hand out to him, “I’m Liz.”

“Ah, the muse I’ve heard so much about,” he shook her hand and ignored her raised eyebrow, “I’m Josh. So, doll,” Liz tensed at Josh’s endearment, “tell me how you came across that cherry over there.”

“It was my grandfather’s,” she replied, following his gaze out to her bike, “He was a big Harley fan.”

He narrowed his blue eyes at her, “And those guys you rolled up with? They with you?” Josh nodded to the line of bikes next to hers, all with club insignia on the gas tanks.

“Maybe,” Liz said quietly, wary of where this conversation was headed.

“And you are…?” he asked, tossing his spent cigarette to the pavement.

“Just the granddaughter,” she smiled and looked away, feeling like she was being tested. Most riders were aware of the Hell’s Angels, but only some were aware of her grandfather’s club and its contribution to bike culture.

Josh leaned an arm against the wall next to her, well aware that their close proximity was making her uncomfortable, “The Jokers have been through here.”

Liz’s eyes snapped back up to his. “That’s fine,” she lied. The old timers at the club house had warned her that the rival club was around when she had showed up to get Pop’s bike out of storage, but she had thought nothing of it. She wouldn’t be wearing anything to announce her affiliation with Pops and the club, but the standing club president would only let her go with the promise that she would take some of the younger club members with her, just in case. It had taken the better part of an hour to convince Andy that she could go to The Rainbow alone, so she was furious that eight members were on her tail the entire ride over. She tried to lose them at least three times, but the vintage Harley was no match for the newer models they were on. Fortunately, they were more interested in the beer and meeting the rock stars inside the bar than watching Liz make out with her boyfriend in the parking lot.

 *

A ripple of excitement moved through the crowd at the Rainbow, indicating someone noteworthy had arrived and was making their way towards the bar. Dave ignored the hushed whispers and continued to wait for the bartender when Josh casually strolled through the parted crowd with Liz under his arm.

“Asshole,” Dave laughed as Josh led Liz right past him.

“Any unattended female property will be claimed by me,” he yelled over Liz’s head.

Dave expected her to drive her elbow into Josh’s ribs, but she just shoved her hands in her jacket pockets and grinned at him.

With the beer finally acquired, Dave found them at a spot against the far wall. Liz was intently watching the people around her while Josh was engrossed in a conversation with a man that Dave vaguely recognized as a session drummer.

“You okay?” he asked her, handing her a bottle.

“Just fine,” she smiled, but it didn’t meet her eyes. He slipped his arm around her waist and felt her relax against him before turning to face him. “I feel bad that I crashed your night out. I really should go.”

“The only way you’re leaving is on the back of my bike” he laughed, but he couldn’t figure out why she was trying to get out of there so badly.

Liz snorted a laugh at that and took a quick drink, “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I never ride bitch on a bike.”

He frowned, a little disappointed that she would never wrap her arms around him as they flew down the highway, but he would gladly take the second best option. Maybe they could go on a ride before she left for England, take the bikes out towards the desert and he could stare at her through his rear view mirror again.

“Dave!” Liz just about jumped out of her skin when a man yelled just feet away from them. “Long time no see!”

“Hey, man!” Dave released Liz to shake Paul Stanley’s hand. “Haven’t seen you in a while!” Really, it had only been a few hours. They had nodded to each other from their respective vehicles while picking up their kids from the same school.  

“We have a table over here!” Paul waved as an invitation to join him and led them to a large corner booth where several other people were sitting. The introductions went as most Hollywood ones do, an acknowledging nod that said, yes, I already know who you are, no need to tell me your name or what you do. The booth was full to the point that Eric Singer was practically falling out into the walkway, so Dave snagged a couple chairs from the wall and lined them up in front of the table. He set one close to Eric in hopes he would assume it was for him, biting back a smile when he took the bait.

“Thanks, man!” Eric called, stopping short when he saw Liz. “I know you.” 

She innocently shrugged and took a drink of her beer while Dave settled into the chair behind her. “I think we’ve met briefly, yeah.”

The realization spread across Eric’s face and he slapped the table loudly, earning the full attention of every one at the table. “You’re the one with the bar!”

Liz’s eyes darted around the table, completely embarrassed that everyone was now staring at her. “That’s me!” she said meekly, looking back at Dave when he tugged on her arm and quickly sat on his knee. 

“She owns the coolest little beach bar where Tommy’s got a place,” Eric explained to the rest of the table then laughed loudly. “Remember that night we got blackout drunk with Tommy and landscaped his house?”

Dave remembered Krist pointing out Tommy Thayer’s house while Liz shook her head. “I don’t recall much of that night, honestly,” she laughed. 

She fell into a conversation with Eric about Tommy and her little beach town while Dave casually ran his hand up her back between her leather jacket and shirt. He felt her shiver at his touch and watched as her knuckles turned white around her beer bottle. His fingertips made it to the base of her shoulder blade when he realized she had apparently been in such a hurry that she had forsaken her bra. She raised an eyebrow at him when he shifted her on his leg, fully realizing how long they had been apart by the way his body reacted to hers.

She leaned into him, only worsening matters when her lips brushed against his ear, “I’m only here for a few hours, Dave. I wasn’t about to spend any of it tangling with a fucking bra.”

Yep, he thought, leaning back to look around for an exit, that’s it. We’re leaving. If we hurry we might make it upstairs, otherwise the bathroom would have to be romantic enough for her.

Liz shifted her hips a little and her eyes darted down. “Wait... if that’s not... where are my keys?,” she murmured.

“So!” Paul leaned across the table, interrupting several different conversations that were happening around him and snapping Dave and Liz back to attention. “How did you two lovebirds meet?”

Liz, now aware that Dave was in distress, took initiative, “A mutual friend introduced us.” She leaned forward as if she were trying to hear Paul better and in the process positioned her ass right over the bulge in Dave’s jeans. His right hand slammed into her hip to hold her still, his fingers digging into her so hard that even through the leather leggings, she knew he was leaving a bruise. She feigned ignorance and continued speaking with Paul about her Oscar and the upcoming school fundraiser he and Dave were working on while occasionally wiggling her hips. Eventually a waitress appeared with a full tray, forcing Liz to sit upright so she could place the fresh drinks on the table.

“Liz, darlin',” she was surprised by Josh’s voice and glanced over to see that he had pulled up a chair next to Dave. “You can’t kill him right now. Everyone is going on summer festival tours and no one will make it to his funeral.”

“That’s fine,” she laughed and Dave groaned, his fingers tightening even further around her hip bone as she slid herself back to his thigh, “Taylor looks really good in black so everyone will be staring at him and not the lack of mourners.”

“I don’t know, doll,” Josh made a scene of looking her up and down, “You might give him a run for his money.”

“You wanna be my date?” she kept her eyes on Josh as she took a drink of her beer.

“God, yes,” he took her free hand and kissed her knuckles, “You can cry on my shoulder all you want, kitten.”

“Hey, assholes,” Dave finally said, making no attempt to hide his smile, “I’m right here.” He was relieved they were getting along so well. Josh could be incredibly intimidating with his brash humor and dry wit, but Liz had easily matched him.

“Right, right” Liz pulled her hand away from Josh to put it around Dave, kissing his forehead in the process, “Not in front of the corpse.”

“Lucky fucking stiff,” Josh grumbled with a grin and stood from his chair, shaking his head in mock defeat as he wandered off into the crowded bar.

Liz finished off her beer and pried Dave’s fingers off her hip so she could stand. He stared up at her with an exaggerated pout and she rolled her eyes.

“I said one beer and then I was leaving.”

“Then you shouldn’t drive,” he tugged on her arm, but she stood firm.

She was just about to throw a smart comment back at him when Josh burst back through the crowd and threw his arms around Liz. His eyes were wide and his voice was urgent, “You should tell me more about your bike!” he yelled and hurried her towards the back of the bar. Liz dutifully followed, looking back at Dave’s confused face that matched her own. She had to trot to keep up with Josh’s determined gait, sensing that whatever he was up to was in her best interest.

“Yo, brother!” a raspy voice echoed down the long hallway just as Josh and Liz reached the back door.

They both stared down at Josh’s tattooed and ringed fingers hovering over the door handle and listened to the heavy boot steps hurrying their way.

“Whoa! Who’s this little snack?”

Josh let out a long breath and squared his shoulders, catching Liz’s eye as he turned her around. She recognized something in his look, a silent plea to just go with it, stay cool, stay calm and she steeled herself against the unknown behind her.

“This is Liz,” Josh gently squeezed her, keeping his arm tightly around her shoulders.

She forced a smile at the man in front of her, one she recognized as a musician that traveled in the same orbit as Dave and Josh. He stared at her through red tinted glasses, clutching a generic canned beer and swaying on his steel toe boots. Liz could tell he had just arrived on a bike, the smell of gasoline tinged exhaust was strong on his denim vest and his fair hair was matted from his helmet.

“Well hello, little lady!” he drawled, dragging his eyes down her body as he took a long swig of his beer. “Brody’s going to kick your fucking ass,” he said to Josh as if Liz wasn’t there. “I’m Jesse,” his boot clicked on the parquet flooring as he stepped forward and offered his hand. She hesitantly shook it and roughly cleared her throat when he lifted her arm to kiss her wrist and eye her feather tattoo.

Josh gritted his teeth and adjusted his arm so that his hand was gripping the nape of Liz’s neck. “We were just headed for a smoke,” he said, his voice dripping with an underlying ‘fuck off’ tone, but Jesse was already too drunk to notice.

“I’ll be out in a minute,” Jesse slurred, glancing behind him at the packed bar. He had turned just enough that Liz could see the back of his denim vest was covered in motorcycle club patches, a large green and white oval showcased in the center. Tunnel vision set in and she stepped out of Josh’s hold to get a better look. The patch portrayed a graveyard landscape in green embroidery. The foreground had a freshly dug plot and a man dancing happily atop it next to a bobber style motorcycle. In the background, a severed head was held aloft, green threaded blood dripping down towards the patch’s border and a line of men saluting with their middle fingers. Jack’s Jokers was in a bold script at the top, though the thread used there was black. The edge of Liz’s vision tinged a dark red and her fists balled up at her sides just as Josh threw both his arms around her and pinned her to the wall.

“Yeah, man!” Jesse cheered, misinterpreting Josh’s movements as amorous instead of preventative. He set off down the hallway, but called back as he reached the threshold to the bar, “Don’t wear her out, man! You know how much I love groupies!”

Liz felt a small, but distinct snap deep in her chest and she bounced a little in Josh’s arms. “Fuck you!” she screamed, wiggling her arm free to point a black fingernail at him.

Jesse stopped short and spun around, a menacing smile on his face. “Oooo… I like my women mean,” he shot back.

“Then you’re in luck, mother fucker,” she spat at him, only faintly aware of Josh whispering directly into her ear in an attempt to calm her down. “Cause I’m about to fucking kick your bitch ass all over this shit hole.”

“Are we going to have a fucking problem?” Jesse walked slowly back towards them, his eyes locked on Liz.

“We already have a fucking problem,” she glowered. “I’ll be out back.” She roughly shoved Josh’s arms away and kicked open the back door as hard as she could, sending the metal clanging against the cinderblock wall.

“Liz!” Josh ran after her, stopping her with an arm on the shoulder. “He’s a fucking asshole, okay? But you have to let this one go.”

“Fuck that guy!” Liz huffed, pointing back to the bar. Seeing that patch had thrown her into another dimension of anger. The club didn’t have a rival, per say, but her grandfather had evicted some men from the brotherhood citing a rumor that they were dealing under the club’s name. They then went on to found ‘Jack’s Jokers’ and mock her grandfather’s legacy, specifically by depicting him as a disembodied head with a desecrated grave for good measure.  The back door flew open again, making Josh and Liz jump. Several drunk men lined up against the wall and pulled out packs of cigarettes as Josh dragged Liz further into the dark back lot.

He held Liz’s arms and bent low so he was eye level with her. “I get why you’re pissed, but Jesse-“

They both looked over as Dave’s voice boomed across the dark parking lot. “Liz!” He sounded pissed.

[sapphyrelily]

Three - Never Grow Up

I return from the dead after 2 months with a lousy chapter in tow, bc I lost my original idea sigh

The buzzing from his phone is getting annoying, and he contemplates turning the vibrate off so he can study in peace. He twists to regard the device on his bed, the screen lighting up with yet another incoming message.

He sighs and picks up the phone.

[Kenjirou]: This was a bad idea

[Kenjirou]: Why did I let Futakuchi talk me into this

[Kenjirou]: Right cos im stupid

[Kenjirou]: Taichi save me

[Kenjirou]: We’re in the house

[Kenjirou]: This guy must be hella rich

[Kenjirou]: Holy shit this is Akaashi’s house

[Kenjirou]: I thought Akaashi was supposed to be all goody two shoes

[Kenjirou]: apparently mot

[Kenjirou]: thk god kuroo isnt here

[Kenjirou]: ohmygod its oikawa-san

[Kenjirou]: and his ace whatshisname

[Kenjirou]: iwa-chan? Tht doesn’t sound liek a name

[Kenjirou]: Right its iwaizumi

[Kenjirou]: hes hot save me

[Kenjirou]: taichiiii answr me

Kawanishi sighs and types a reply.

[Taichi]: r u drunk

[Kenjirou]: YOU FINALLY REPLIED

[Taichi]: answer the question

[Kenjirou]: oooooh proper spellinh, scarryyyy

[Taichi]: Kenjirou.

[Kenjirou]: maybe idk

[Kenjirou]: but iwaizumisan is jow

[Kenjirou]: hot

[Kenjirou]: im gonna talk to hik

[Taichi]: be safe

Kawanishi tosses his phone onto his pillow and picks up his textbook. Shirabu’s drunk self can’t do too much damage, he reckons. He can always check back after he finishes this chapter.

[Kenjirou]: taichi stop me

[Kenjirou]: hes so cute hwlp

[Kenjirou]: ah no he left

[Kenjirou]: I shld go chase him

[Kenjirou]: ohno the other seijou boys r hwre

[Kenjirou]: the pink one is hogging him

[Kenjirou]: I need to get him back

[Kenjirou]: oh good pinky left

[Kenjirou]: no oikawa-sam in aight

[Kenjirou]: ure nog here so I’m gonna do bad things

[Kenjirou]: HE SAID HELL WALK ME BACK

[Kenjirou]: SCORE

[Kenjirou]: wait till semi-san heres

[Kenjirou]: HE PATTED MW ON THE BACK WHAT DOES THAT MEAN

[Kenjirou]: AAAHHHHH

[Kenjirou]: semi-sans in my bed

[Kenjirou]: oh kenmaz in his

[Kenjirou]: eh whatever

[Kenjirou]: hes cute ill pretend hes iwaizumi-san

[Kenjirou]: nigghtttt

Kawanishi blinks at his screen and rereads the messages, squinting at the font as if it will change the contents of the messages. It doesn’t, so he groans and throws his phone back on the bed.

Goddamnit, Kenjirou.

x.x.x.x.x

“Kenjirou.”

No response.

“Kenjirou.”

“Mmphrgh.”

“Get up and drink some water.”

“No.”

“Get up, you sick pig.”

“No. Lemme sleep.”

“Do you want me to get Semi-san?”

The covers are pulled down a little, exposing an eye lined with deep bags. “You wouldn’t.”

“I’ll get Tendou-san too.”

“Goddamnit, Taichi.”

“Thank me later.”

He sighs and closes his textbook, looking at the time.

Oh. He studied through the night. That hasn’t happened in a while.

He groans as he stretches out his legs, reaching for his phone. No new messages, but he opens the application anyway, composing a new one and sending it off.

He may not be able to keep his best friend out of trouble, but he knows who can.

x.x.x.x.x

[Taichi]: panadol n h2o

[Semi]: What

[Taichi]: kenjirou

[Semi]: Sigh. Thanks Taichi

[Taichi]: punch him 4 me

[Semi]: Kay

Semi tucks his phone into his back pocket, picking the finished bentos up and heading back to his room. Once inside, he digs in his bag for his small medicine stash, cutting off two tabs of panadol to place on Shirabu’s side table.

The sky is getting brighter, but he decides to leave his roommate be until he refills their water bottles.

In hindsight, that was a bad idea.

“Shirabu.”

“G’way.” The brunet mumbles incoherently and tugs the blanket over his head. A few pokes to his back earns him nothing but some wiggling, so he sighs and sits beside him.

[Semi]: How well does he hold his liquor

[Taichi]: lightweight

[Semi]: K bad question. How much did he drink

[Taichi]: enuf to b angry if u wake him

[Semi]: gdi

Semi sighs and grips the edge of the blanket. “Shirabu, you have two seconds before I rip this off.”

No response.

He tears the blanket off, taking it to the other bed to fold, ignoring the indignant whine behind him.

“Lemme sleep– Oww.”

“Drink the water and take the panadol. You’re getting to class today, whether you like it or not.”

“I hate you.”

“You’re welcome, because that’s a lab you have in an hour.”

He hears a panicked curse followed by a pained groan, and shakes his head at the sound of pattering footsteps and muffled banging disappearing down the hallway. Setting the folded blanket on the correct bed, he turns to Shirabu’s closet and starts pulling out a lab-appropriate outfit, then packs his bag and places it next to his shoes.

[Semi]: He didnt seem very angry

[Taichi]: hes late 4 class

[Taichi]: d anger will b bck

[Semi]: Thanks for the heads up?

[Taichi]: ur welcome

[Taichi]: ull need it

He’s about to head out when an angry maelstrom crashes past him, diving about the room in a flurry before setting upon the things already laid out for him. Semi would love to stay and watch – Shirabu gets stuck in his T-shirt for a solid minute, how is that even possible – but he knows better than to take Kawanishi's advice lightly, so he clicks the door shut behind him just as an infuriated yell is birthed.

He sneaks off with a snicker, messaging Futakuchi to beware the monster in class.

He gets an extremely garbled reply, and sighs heavily.

Reckless teenagers.

x.x.x.x.x

“Taichi.”

It’s a hiss, a panicked call, and he peers blearily out of his blanket nest to raise an eyebrow.

“Come help me pick an outfit.”

“Why.” He thinks he mumbles it – he isn’t sure, there are just too many blankets – but Shirabu whines and drops onto the bed anyway.

“Semi-san asked me to help distract Ushijima-san while they’re out.”

“And what’re you going to do? Dress like a stripper?”

He doesn’t even mind the smack to his leg – the blankets absorb the impact – but he does mind his roommate lying across his stomach, because he can’t breathe.

“Kenjirou– Get off–”

“I need help,” Shirabu whines. “They’ll be going into town, and I need to keep Ushijima-san occupied while Semi-san and Tendou-san find him a gift.”

“And– This is– Important– Why?” He wheezes, trying to dislodge the dead weight, but Shirabu is surprisingly heavy.

“Because what if I don’t know what to say? What am I supposed to talk about? We’re going to be by ourselves, this is the opportunity of a lifetime–”

“You– See– Him– At– Practice– Everyday.”

“I don’t need to hold a conversation during practice!”

Kawanishi finally succeeds in shoving Shirabu off his diaphragm, and wheezes for a minute. When he finally regains his breath, his roommate is seated on his legs, bemoaning his predicament.

He sits up and pulls his legs back, dislodging Shirabu and sending him sprawling, but he can’t care less. “Just wear whatever. It doesn’t matter.”

“You’re so unhelpful.”

“Ushijima-san doesn’t care about appearances,” he tells him. “But think about it this way – anything you wear would definitely be better than what Semi-san is wearing.”

“Not if Tendou-san is picking it.”

“Well, true, but how often does that happen?”

He’s met with silence, and hides his small smile in the blankets.

“Okay, fine, I’ll just wear jeans and whatever.”

“As long as you’re wearing clothes,” Kawanishi drawls, promptly flopping back and hiding himself in the blankets.

“I’m not an exhibitionist or a nudist, of course I’ll wear clothes.”

Kawanishi doesn’t bother to reply him.

x.x.x.x.x

“Shirabu-kun.”

He turns around slowly – after too many near-vomiting experiences that day, he has resigned himself to the vertigo – looking up into a pair of familiar green eyes. “Iwaizumi-san.”

Iwaizumi looks kind of awkward, but he holds out a familiar-looking jacket – his, he realises belatedly.

“Thanks for your jacket last night. It was a nice gesture,” he says, a crooked smile lifting a corner of his mouth. Shirabu takes the jacket from him – no wonder he couldn’t find it – and returns his smile sheepishly.

“No problem. Sorry for the trouble yesterday,” he mumbles.

“It was no trouble at all. I’d be more worried if you didn’t get back safely.”

“You didn’t have to,” he mutters. “But thank you. I don’t remember anything about last night.”

Iwaizumi frowns. “Nothing at all?”

“I remember seeing the other Seijou boys in your year, but that’s about it. Everything after that is gone.” He tries not to blush – he is above blushing like a schoolgirl, damnit – but allows an embarrassed grin to show his sincerity.

The other chuckles. “You don’t remember giving me your jacket, then?”

“No.”

“You were very nice about it,” Iwaizumi tells him. “You said you couldn’t let me go back out into the cold without anything on and shoved it at me until I took it.”

Shirabu is stunned for a moment, before he chokes out, “I’m sorry I’m such a pushy drunk. That doesn’t sound nice.”

“You are very stubborn, but it was a nice gesture.” He starts to turn away, then whips back around, brow furrowed. “Wait. If you don’t remember anything, then why would you apologise for causing me trouble?”

“I, uh,” he fidgets uncomfortably, before softly admitting, “I’m always trouble when I’m drunk.”

Iwaizumi laughs loudly, and he’s stunned – he has such a beautiful laugh, but he’s also so embarrassed.

The older grins widely and claps him on the back, almost making him stumble. “Don’t worry about it. You weren’t that much trouble.”

“Really?” Shirabu’s sceptical – despite denying it, he does know a little of what transpired. His gushing messages to Kawanishi are proof enough of that.

“Well,” Iwaizumi pauses, “There is one thing I’d like to ask about.”

Oh no. Please don’t let it be–

“Shirabu-kun,” their eyes meet, bright green and nervous hazel, “You kept mentioning how ‘hot’ I was?”

Please kill me.

It takes him a few seconds to get his voice working again, but he manages to choke out, “I wasn’t lying.”

Iwaizumi’s expression softens a little, and he cracks a small smile. “I don’t think you were.”

“I’m sorry,” he bursts out. “Don’t tell anyone else, please.”

Iwaizumi looks confused. “Tell anyone what?”

“That I’m, you know,” he waves a hand, “Not straight.”

Some of the confusion clears from the older’s face, but he still sounds puzzled when he asks, “Why would I tell anyone that?”

“What?”

(He’s so confused.)

“It’s not my place to tell anyone else what your preferences are,” Iwaizumi says firmly, and he looks so serious, Shirabu actually believes him. “I wouldn’t want anyone doing that to me, and I wouldn’t do it to anyone else either.”

“I– Thank you.” He hesitates just a moment, before asking softly, “Can I ask? What your preferences are?”

Iwaizumi smiles a little. “I’m demisexual. You?”

“Pansexual.” It feels like a weight has been lifted when he says it out loud, and he lets out a small sigh.

He hears a laugh, looks up to see Iwaizumi grinning at him. “Never told anyone before?”

“…no,” he admits. “There wasn’t a need to.”

“Don’t I know how that feels,” Iwaizumi sighs.

There’s a beat of silence between them, before Iwaizumi says, “Well, I ought to be getting back. Thanks again.”

He can feel the opportunity slipping from between his fingers, breath catching in his throat as the words lodge themselves in the tight space, refusing to come out.

Last chance, the wind whispers as it brushes by.

His hand clenches around the jacket, turning fully to face his retreating back. “Iwaizumi-san!”

He turns, confusion playing out across his features, and he takes a deep breath, exhaling forcefully.

“I know you told me your preferences, but would you like to go out to dinner with me sometime? Tonight, if you’re free?”

The taller boy’s expression clears, replaced by a sort of wry smile. “I’ll agree on one condition.”

“What is it?”

“We’re going as friends. Don’t expect more.”

He bows sharply, hiding his smile in his collar.

“Of course.”

x.x.x.x.x

[Shirabu]: Won’t be back for dinner

[Semi]: again?

[Shirabu]: You’re not my mom

[Semi]: I pick up after yo u enough to be

[Shirabu]: whatever

[Shirabu]: I’ll be eating dinner on my own, relax

[Semi]: well, im glad you know what I’m worrying abt

[Shirabu]: IM NOT THT SKINNY

[Semi]: Yes you are

[Shirabu]: no

[Semi]: yes

[Shirabu]: No.

[Shirabu]: ps thanks for the shirasu-don

[Semi]: … youre welcome

[Shirabu]: I was bring sincere but guess I wont anymore

[Semi]: I was stunned, sue me

[Shirabu]: I’m not that ungrateful

[Semi]: o rlly

[Shirabu]: guess I’ll put the tekka maki back

[Semi]: WAIT

Shirabu snickers as he pockets his phone without replying, putting the packet of fish into the basket and nudging the person beside him. “Come on, let’s go.”

Kenma barely looks up from his game, but he does ask, “Do you have the apple pie?”

Shirabu rolls his eyes. “No. I’m going to make you apple pie instead of letting you eat the store-bought one.”

“Really?” It’s the most hopeful Shirabu has ever heard him, and he smothers a laugh.

“Yes, of course. You should learn how to make it too.”

“Lazy,” Kenma mumbles, trudging along behind him. “Kuro’ll get me some any time.”

“You treat him like a servant.”

“Like you’re one to talk.”

“Huh?”

“Eita spends half his time picking up after you.”

“I don’t ask him to.”

“But he still does, and you don’t thank him. At least I thank Kuro.”

Shirabu opens his mouth to refute, but finds his words gone, any eloquence dried up like an old well. He can practically feel the smugness radiating off his friend, and stews quietly – what else can he do?

They’re almost at the checkout when he thinks to say, “I do things for him sometimes too.”

Kenma doesn’t reply for a long while – he thinks he must have reached the boss stage – but when he does, it’s with a sigh and the blackened screen of his game. “Not as much as he does for you.”

Shirabu’s almost too stunned that he turned off his game to answer. “He doesn’t have to. He’s trying to be my mom,” he grumbles.

“He cares about you.”

“He cares about everyone.”

“Fair point.”

Shirabu props the basket onto the self-checkout counter, scanning in silence. Kenma helps to bag the items, remaining mercifully quiet until they exit the store.

“You know, there was a point in time where Kuroo told me he liked me.”

“Oh?” He is confused; what does this have to do with their earlier conversation?

“Yeah,” Kenma muses. “But now he has Koutarou, so I don’t have to worry about feelings I can’t return.”

“I see.”

(Really, what is he supposed to say to all this?)

“You don’t understand what I’m trying to hint at,” Kenma comments.

Shirabu feels relieved and slightly annoyed. “What gave it away?”

“Your face, maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.” Kenma smiles, but it drops quickly, sighing. “Maybe Eita’s so caring because he likes you.”

He snorts. “As if Semi-san would ever like me.”

“Why not?”

“We just don’t like each other.” His tone is hard, trying to signal the end of the conversation, and he’s glad when Kenma doesn’t press further.

He doesn’t want to revisit those memories. After all, they’ve been locked away for a reason.

x.x.x.x.x

“You sure you'll be okay?”

“For goodness sake, yes. I’m moving to the city, not to another country.”

“Just checking. I–”

“Worry. I know.” His voice has softened, and he drops his bag, tilting his head back to regard him. “I’ll be fine. Really.”

His friend pulls him into a smothering hug, enveloping him fully in his embrace, counting, counting, keeping time until he has to let go.

“Be safe.” A whisper as he steps back, full of panic and worry and desperate, desperate wishes.

“I’ll do what I can.” It’s not a promise – he can’t promise this, definitely not – but it’s the sincerity of the sentiment that pacifies him, because now, it might take him a bit longer to do something stupid.

“Call me when you get there.”

“I’ll text you,” he offers. “You’re getting overbearing like this.”

He opens his mouth only to bite back the I worry that threatens to fall out, swapping it for an Okay instead.

This time it’s Shirabu who steps forward for a hug, whispering his goodbyes, shouting them in the strength of his embrace, lightly reassuring him in the soft touch on his hair.

And then he’s on the train, and the afternoon sun blinds him as he watches the train disappear.

x.x.x.x.x

[Eita]: Coming over?

[Kenma]: Nah. Kuros cooking

[Eita]: For Futakuchi too or no

[Eita]: ?

[Kenma]: ofc for futa too

[Kenma]: I am very kinf, u kno

[Eita]: how did kenma let you have his phone

[Kenma]: I have my ways

[Kenma]: n e way, kitten and futa r with me tonite

[Eita]: I had to stare at that for 5 min before it made sense

[Kenma]: Kuros spelling sucks

[Eita]: Tell me sth I dont know

[Kenma]: Futakuchi snores

[Kenma]: Dinner. C u tmr

[Eita]: See you

Semi places his phone at the edge of the table, lacing his hands behind his head. A slow grin spreads over his face as the reality of the situation settles on him.

No Shirabu, Kenma or Futakuchi tonight. Wow.

I can finally study in peace, hell yes.

He gets up to pluck a textbook from his bag, setting a timer on his phone before putting it in the dresser.

If he's to study, there can be no distractions. But he’ll have to get up and make dinner eventually, and he refuses to forget to eat just because he’s actually studying for once.

He flips open to where he left off, re-reading the familiar concept, sinking into the rhythm of absorbing information.

x.x.x.x.x

It’s 11pm when he stops, and as he gets up to brush his teeth, his eyes land on the empty bed next to him.

It’s a little worrying, but he reminds himself that Shirabu is old enough to take care of himself, pushing the thought out of mind as he leaves the room.

He writes a note and pins it to their corkboard, casting a last glance at the vacant bed before he turns out the lights.

(The emptiness rings in his head, a despondent purr throbbing in his mind. It prods at the gaping maw of his heart, reminding, reminding, of better times, noisier times, a time where there was laughter and table lamps and trundling snores–)

The room is too quiet, and he sighs.

He’ll never get used to sleeping alone.

x.x.x.x.x

Come home earlier next time, it’s not safe late at night.

P.S. It’s your turn to make lunch but I’m getting up early because I’m sure you won’t wake up.

He plucks the note from the board, smiling at the first part of the message, sticking his tongue out at his roommate's back at the latter half.

Grabbing a pen from the table, he scribbles his reply and sticks the note back on the board before grabbing his things to shower.

His phone lights up with a new message, and he types a reply with a small grin before leaving, closing the door quietly behind him.

In the silence of the room, the phone vibrates periodically, marking the pauses between the soft snores from the occupied bed.

1 unread message from Taichi

15 unread messages from Futakuchi

2 unread messages from Iwaizumi✨

[fire-bear]

Dr. Nosferatu

I actually managed to finish this on time! Yay!

Warnings: probably inaccurate medical practices but necessary for plot, dammit! Mild violence? I’m not sure what else to warn you about... Swearing.

Oh, and blood, but I think that’s covered in the title?

Francis had lost count of how many years he'd been alive.

Well, not that he was technically alive, being a vampire. He'd been turned when he had survived the Middle Ages into his twenties. The thing that had turned him had been one of the original vampires and Francis had been worried that he'd be impaired with all the 'disabilities' that vampires had to bear. Thankfully, the vampire had been weaker than expected and Francis had managed to live in the sunlight and the growing Christian community. He couldn't eat too much garlic but, in small amounts and mixed into dishes, he wasn't really affected. Holy water had never been an issue as he had been careful enough not to draw the attention of hunters.

Of course, over time, he realised that he would have to move if he didn't want people asking questions. To begin with, he did so every ten years, looking for work elsewhere and trying not to draw too much attention to himself. As long as he wasn't too hungry, he would never kill anyone. But their eyes whenever they saw him...

After a while, he'd had to learn how to make his own documentation, forging it and changing his surname (and sometimes his first name) every so often. With that new knowledge, he was able to amass enough money to go to university. At first, he had tried to find a way to reverse his vampirism. When he failed to find a solution, he made sure to give himself enough careers to fall back on. All he had to do was lift the name and dates from the document and replace them with others. It grew more difficult when computers came into play but he had soon taken a course and was soon able to hack into the systems he needed in order to give himself a believable CV.

Sometimes, he would actually attend the universities he lied about going to. There was a constant development of human knowledge and he had to keep up. In particular, biology and medicine came on in leaps and bounds and he was very interested in knowing more about what he was doing to the humans he had to feed on.

Every time he drank from a person – which he tried to limit – he hated the way they screamed or struggled. It saddened him and he wished he could stop. But when he had originally tried to stop himself, his hunger forced him to kill, even if he had been forcing himself to drink animal blood. Then he had heard about the donations of blood, of the bags of blood just lying in hospitals to save humans' lives.

So he began to steal bags of blood, just the odd one or two every so often. It didn't taste as good but it kept him alive and quenched his hunger. As security became more important to humans, Francis became a doctor, moving between hospitals and doctor's practices when he needed to. He still only took just enough but, suddenly, his current workplace realised bags were going missing and the security around the blood grew.

With no way to get his food without questions, Francis tried to continue as usual, refusing to feed on humans again. He was thousands of years old; he could wait until he could get to the blood again. After all this time, he was used to the hunger. He could control it.

Couldn't he?

"I'll see you in a few weeks, Mrs. Honda," Francis said with a forced smile. He walked the woman to the door. "Don't forget to make the appointment at the desk before you leave."

"Thank you, Doctor Bonnefoy," the woman replied with a big grin.

With another forced smile, Francis waved and closed the door, gasping as soon as he was alone. There was a familiar pain in his stomach, so severe it was getting more and more difficult to work. But he only had to wait a few more hours before he could leave for home – though he suspected he would have to find someone to drink a little from before the hunger would get any stronger.

In the meantime, he just had to focus.

Biting his lip, careful not to pierce the skin, Francis pushed himself from the door and moved to his desk where he began to fill in the files for Mrs. Honda. She was a lovely woman, sweet and cheerful and utterly in love with her husband who, apparently, was working even more in order to have money set aside for when the baby came. And she had a spicy-smelling B- blood type.

Francis shuddered at his own thoughts and firmly pushed it aside. It was difficult, however, and he kept remembering the smell, her pretty little neck. Taking deep breaths, he stared at the keyboard and continued typing until he realised that he was typing the same thing over and over. When he looked up, he recoiled in horror.

All that was written in the new page of Mrs. Honda's records was:

BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD BLOOD

BLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLOODBLO

Gasping, Francis deleted the new information, breathing heavily and clutching at his chest. The phantom sensation of his heart thumping made him shudder again. His hunger was definitely on the verge of making him lose his self-control. But he couldn't just walk out of the practice. There was a reputation to maintain and if he didn't keep going, he was sure to put a blemish on it. And, if he went to the reception area to explain to Miss Laurent that he had to leave as he was feeling ill, there would be too many people for him to control himself.

Taking a deep breath, Francis went back to filling in the records, slower than normal. He was only halfway through what he would normally have done (and had had to delete the word BLOOD far too many times) when the intercom crackled to life. "Doctor Bonnefoy, are you ready for your next patient?"

Jumping in surprise, Francis cursed his hunger and hurried to answer. "Oh, yes. Go ahead, Bella."

The intercom cut off and Francis went back to the computer to bring up his schedule. He was about to see a Mr. Arthur Kirkland, though his patient files were either non-existent or sealed. Curious, he went back to filling in more of Mrs. Honda's file before there was a knock at the door.

"Ah, come in," he called, minimising the window and bringing up another one so he could find out what Mr. Kirkland needed.

He turned as the door opened and watched as the man walked in, head turned as he caught hold of the door in order to shut it. The man was wearing black skinny jeans and a green corduroy jacket which had been left open. His hair was a sandy blond and looked as though he hadn't brushed it that morning. Once he'd closed the door, he turned around and Francis took in the plain, black t-shirt he wore beneath the jacket. Then he looked up at the man's eyes. They were such a bright green that Francis thought that he was some sort of ethereal creature he had never seen before. His thick, dark eyebrows shadowed them but, otherwise, he was quite handsome.

"Arthur Kirkland?" he said, just to confirm.

"Yes," the man answered, shortly.

"Please." Francis gestured at the seat on the other side of his desk, closest to the examination table. "Have a seat."

"Thank you," said Kirkland with nod. He crossed the room and lowered himself onto the very edge of the seat.

"Well, what seems to be the problem?"

"No real problem," Kirkland answered and now Francis could discern his English accent, though he couldn't place where exactly in the country it had come from. "I'm staying here for a couple of years but I was told that it would be a good idea to get registered at the local GP's- doctor's practice, just in case. The receptionist said to come in today for a check-up?"

"Yes, we like to do a check-up on all incoming patients, just in case there was something your last doctor missed," Francis explained, hiding a wince as his stomach cramped. "It's just taking a few blood samples, checking on your heart and lungs, things like that. You can also take this time to tell me about anything that's bothering you?"

"Nothing, really," said Kirkland, though he looked like he was holding something back.

"Really?" Francis asked, not something he would usually do with a patient but he had half his attention on his hunger so it slipped out before he could stop it.

Kirkland looked bemused, a small smile forming. "Unless you want me to complain to you about how weird everything in America is?"

"Oh, yes, I completely understand that," said Francis with his own amused smile. He'd said it without thinking – he wasn't sure if it was because of his distractedness or that pretty little smile – and regretted it immediately. Kirkland's brow furrowed and his expression morphed to one of confusion. Francis was talking with an American accent; he had forcibly dropped his own accent so that he could blend in and, now, he always spoke in the accent of whichever country he was living in.

"You're not from here? I'd never have guessed; your accent's completely gone!" Kirkland commented. Francis almost sighed in relief.

"If you'd like to complain," Francis suggested hurriedly, "you can. But we should maybe get started on this examination, yes?"

With another bemused smile, Kirkland stood and made his way to the table. Francis's eyes flickered over his body, taking in his lean frame and rather delectable ass. What would it be like to sink his teeth into it... He had to shake himself from that train of thought and quickly made a mental doctor's note that he looked as healthy as horse. Hopefully there wouldn't be anything seriously wrong with him in this check-up. He'd had a British patient before who had had diabetes for a while but hadn't turned up at their local doctor's in their home country. It seemed to be a trait that the British were stubborn about inconveniencing their National Health Service.

As he sat on the table, Kirkland said, "I suppose the first thing to complain about is that they drive on the other side of the road. I know a lot of places drive on the right but I keep looking the wrong way to cross the road and I've nearly had a heart attack when cars have passed right in front of me!"

"I'm from France," Francis told him as he unwound his stethoscope from around his neck. "That's never really been a problem for me."

"Figures," said Kirkland with a sigh.

"Could you take off your jacket and raise your shirt up for me, please?" Francis asked as he placed the ear-tips into his ears.

"Sure." Kirkland slid the jacket off effortlessly, throwing it towards his chair. He must have had good aim as it landed over the back of it, folded over neatly. Sending Francis a grin, he then pulled up the shirt – and kept going, pulling it off completely. Francis nearly had a phantom heart attack himself; most of his patients were more than willing to keep their clothes on as much as possible and Francis didn't mind at all. But now he was treated to the delicious sight of Kirkland's lean body and he struggled to keep his hands (and teeth) to himself. "This is easier, right?" asked Kirkland, tossing the shirt over his jacket.

"Ah... yes," Francis said, a little breathlessly. To distract himself from his thoughts, he breathed on the bell to 'warm it up'.

"Another thing I don't like about being here is that there aren't any electric kettles. I've asked my mum to send me one. You know, my roommate says that he just heats up water in the microwave." Kirkland wrinkled his nose at that. "That's just wrong."

Francis hummed in response, trying to both ignore the crawling feeling in his stomach and concentrate on what he was doing. He pressed the bell against Kirkland's chest (trying to ignore the slight trembling of his hands) and blocked out what the young man was saying. That turned out to be a mistake as he could hear the steady pumping of Kirkland's heart and his hunger latched onto it, reminding him that there was blood (bloodbloodbloodblood) running through it. If he hadn't been battling with it all day, Francis might have jerked away from his new patient. Instead, he stiffened before pulling away with a nod.

"Sounds fine," he murmured, mostly for show. Then he remembered what Kirkland had been talking about and he latched onto it for something else to focus on. "And I drink coffee, I'm afraid, so I don't really have that problem. I've got a French press at home."

"Of course you do," said Kirkland with a roll of his eyes. He seemed amused, his smile growing as he watched Francis turned the bell over. It made Francis feel things he hadn't felt in a long, long while. Surprised, Francis quickly turned his attention to what he was doing.

"When I tell you to, breathe in and then out, okay?" Once he had gotten a nod, Francis took an unnecessary breath himself and said, "In." Kirkland did as he was asked. "Out. In. Out." Nodding to himself, he shifted his position so he could press the bell to Kirkland's back. He repeated the process and Kirkland obediently did as he was asked. Once he was finished, he stepped back and looped his stethoscope around his neck again. "Right, everything sounds good. Just your bloods now."

Kirkland winced. "I hate needles," he muttered, a little petulantly. Francis thought it was adorable. He hid a smile as he opened a drawer to find the packet he needed.

"Don't we all," he said to Kirkland over his shoulder.

"Surely you should like them since it helps you in your work?" said Kirkland, eyebrow raised when Francis turned back to him.

"Touché," Francis replied with a perfect French accent.

Snorting, Kirkland held out his arm. Francis ripped open the packet and paused for just an instant as he remembered what he was about to do. His stomach would have growled if it could have since it realised that what it wanted was so close. Suppressing a shudder, Francis took another breath and placed the point of the needle against the inside of Kirkland's elbow. Kirkland tensed and Francis smiled, meeting Arthur's gaze.

"You'll be fine, Mister Kirkland. I-"

"Arthur," he said, nose scrunching up once more. "'Mister Kirkland' is just weird."

"All right, then, Arthur. It won't take too long-"

That was as far as he got in his distraction speech before he finally pushed the needle into Arthur's vein. The intense smell of blood hit him immediately, something that was normally dulled by the plastic or glass encasing it. It was the sweet, sweet, mouth-watering smell of AB-, eternally enticing, drawing his attention.

For a second nothing happened. Then Francis lost all control of himself. He knew he had when he saw Arthur's eyes widen and his expression changed from reluctant acceptance to confusion to horror in quick succession. But he couldn't stop what happened next.

With a snarl, he dropped the needle and grabbed Arthur in his strong grip. Arthur gasped and then opened his mouth, presumably to yell. Francis's speed stopped whatever he had been about to do. He manoeuvred his prey around until he was the one sitting on the table with Arthur in his lap. The movement made him yelp, not loud enough to attract attention. Arthur struggled in his grip, trying to stand or pull away. Francis merely grabbed hold of his head and pushed it out of his way.

Then Francis leaned over him and bit down into his neck.

Blood gushed out, filling his mouth with the sweet nectar. Greedily, Francis gulped it down, suckling at Arthur's neck. His prey continued to struggle for exactly two seconds before the strange vampire's venom worked its way through him and he slumped against Francis, obediently rolling his head to the side so that Francis had more access. Francis growled low in his throat and tugged Arthur against him more. Arthur moaned at the movement which had caused a burst of the venom to spread through him again.

After a while, Francis lapped up the stray blood from his neck, sealing the wound there. Arthur wasn't dead yet, of course, he would survive that much blood taken from him: it seemed that he was working with muscle memory. But Francis was still hungry and it clawed at him, demanding to be fed completely and Francis enjoyed using every part of his prey when he was in this state. So he threw Arthur onto the table where the human rolled his head to the other side with a whimper, a hand reaching out for him. It was an invitation and Francis took it, leaping on top of him and biting into the other side of his neck, sucking down the blood there.

Minutes passed as Francis drank, changing positions every so often. He bit at a point above Arthur's heart, bit his side, forced him to turn and ripped his jeans off so he could fulfill his fantasy of biting his ass. It was as delicious as it looked. Finally, Francis came back to his senses as he drank from his original point of access, Arthur's jeans and underwear around his knees.

Francis jerked away with a gasp. What had he done?! He stared down at the boy – he couldn't have been older than 20 – who was covered in smears of blood. His eyes were lidded and he looked blissful, a side-effect of the venom. With the amount of blood he'd drunk, his hunger completely sated, Francis knew that Arthur would die. He was barely alive at the moment, his fingers twitching as he tried to reach for the vampire, draw him back to him, entice him back to drinking from him.

What was he going to do? When Arthur didn't walk back out of the room, Miss Laurent would notice and ask questions. And how would he explain how Arthur had bled to death in his room? He was still alive... Maybe Francis could take him through to the main part of the hospital and save him. But how would he explain to everyone there what had happened? People were going to think that he'd attacked Arthur and then he'd be sent to prison, maybe given the death sentence. And then everyone would know what he was when he didn't age or didn't die by electricity. Or would he die by electricity? He didn't know. There was a Romanian vampire who probably knew-

With a sharp gasp of realisation, he remembered his meetings with that particular vampire. He found humans' takes on vampires to be amusing and often called himself Vlad or Dracula for the fun of it. That wasn't his real name but Francis had only found out when his companion, a man named Andon, had told him so.

Andon, however, was not human as Francis had first assumed. Francis knew that Andon was a servant of Vlad and had often seen him create meals for himself with actual food and not blood. It had taken seeing him again after fifty years to dispel that notion. Apparently, Vlad had turned him into a vampire, though the strange mechanics of turning humans and the unique biology of each person and vampire meant that Andon could still function almost completely like human. The man would get cravings for food despite not actually needing it which was something Francis didn't have the luxury of doing: solid food made him ill.

If they could do it, why couldn't Francis? It was quite a simple process. Vlad had told him what you had to do. And, if he did it quick enough, Arthur wouldn't die.

He didn't waste time debating with himself. Pushing his sleeve out of the way, Francis raised his wrist to his mouth and bit into it, rather harshly. His punishment. He winced at the unforeseen pain but he rushed to Arthur's side, his lip curling a little at the ugly, black blood which oozed from his veins. Quickly, he hefted Arthur up until he was in a seated position, Francis sitting behind him so that he could keep him upright. Pressing his wrist against Arthur's mouth, he squeezed his hand into a fist and watched his blood drip against Arthur's lips.

The young man didn't react. "Come on, Arthur. You need to drink this. It'll make you feel good." Nothing happened. Francis tilted Arthur's head towards him so he could see his face. "Arthur. Can you hear me?" There was a flicker of green behind Arthur's half-closed eyes. "Please drink this." Francis pressed his wrist more insistently against Arthur's mouth, smearing it against his lips, willing it to go in. When nothing else happened, he reached up with his free hand and rubbed at Arthur's throat. Thankfully, his reflex reaction took place and he was gulping down the dribbles of blood.

Something happened then. Francis could feel Arthur heating up far too quickly to be natural. Then, suddenly, Arthur's tongue flicked out and lapped up stray drops of blood. Unsure whether it was actually working, Francis pressed his wrist still closer. The slight movement resulted in Arthur's mouth moving around the bite wounds, his tongue flicking out once more as if to test what was there. Before Francis could pull away to see if it had worked, Arthur latched onto his wrist with a slight scraping of teeth, sucking at him as if he was trying to draw more blood out.

And it worked. Francis could feel it being drawn out of him. He gasped at the pressure of it, at the feeling of something being removed from him. Strangely, though, he liked it, enjoyed the sensation of being taken from, of providing for someone else. Warmth, something he'd not felt for some time, flooded through him and an odd happiness settled upon him as he gently stroked Arthur's hair.

Arthur's hands came up to grip at Francis's arm, keeping it still as he sucked and slurped and gulped more of it down, reminding Francis of his own loss of control. Francis smiled fondly and continued to stroke Arthur's hair. For a while it was peaceful. Francis was content. He didn't care that he was probably running over time for his next appointment and he doubted he would care if Bella came in to see what was wrong and found him feeding Arthur.

All of a sudden, though, Arthur jerked away from him, twisting in Francis's grip and shoving the doctor from his perch on the table. He slid from the table, surprised, and only just managed to grab hold of the table and stop himself from landing on his ass. Blinking, he turned his gaze up and found a furious Arthur, glaring at him with glowing green eyes.

"What the fuck did you just do to me?" he snarled.

"I... I just..."

Not waiting for an explanation, Arthur looked down at himself and, seeing his state of undress, turned such a look of disgust upon Francis that Francis's poor, dead heart broke. "You sick- Did you actually-?" He stopped as realisation washed over him and Francis knew he remembered what had happened. "You just... You're a vampire?!"

"Please," Francis said, straightening up. "I... I didn't mean to. I just lost con-"

"Why the hell are you masquerading as a doctor?! Is that poor receptionist under your thrall?"

"No, no," Francis frantically shook his head. "I actually have my doctorate. Several of them, in fact," he added as an afterthought.

"Do you do this to all your patients?" Arthur demanded, hopping off the table and grabbing his underwear to pull it up. It distracted Francis for a moment and, when he didn't respond, Arthur glared at him as he twisted the tight boxers into place. "You do, don't you?"

"No! I told you, I lost control."

"You're a monster."

That struck a nerve. "So are you," Francis snapped, glowering at him as Arthur stomped across to the rest of his clothes.

Arthur's eyes narrowed as he grabbed his t-shirt. "And how, pray tell, am I a monster?"

"There was no other way to save your life after I-" Francis broke off from his angry tirade, pain and guilt flashing through him. "After I almost killed you..." he whispered, turning his haunted gaze aside and catching sight of the abandoned needle in front of a cupboard.

A heavy silence fell. Everything stilled. Then: "What... did you just... say?" Arthur croaked.

Francis forced himself to look at his latest victim and was dismayed to see the fear in Arthur's eyes, his t-shirt only halfway down. "I... made you drink my blood. I turned you. You're a-"

"No!" Arthur shouted. "This isn't happening!" He pulled his t-shirt down with more force than necessary and grabbed his jacket. Using it to point angrily at Francis, he added, "I'm never coming to this place again!"

Unsure whether he stop him or not, Francis could only watch him go as the terrified Englishman disappeared from his life, taking with him whatever had made Francis feel alive again.

One week later, Francis was sitting in his house, reading a book. Reading the book. He almost couldn't help it. At least once a year, he'd find his third edition Dracula and read it through in one sitting, burning the contents into his mind.

Halfway into it, he was startled from the scene to a thumping noise. At first, Francis couldn't think of what it was. It didn't sound like anything he had in his house. After all, what would made five slow thuds, one after another? When it started up again, he realised it was some form of knocking at his door. He froze, worried about what could be making those slow thuds. Shuddering, he stood and cautiously made his way to the door. Maybe whoever it was would go away?

Unfortunately, he had reached the door of his contemporary living room when he heard the thuds again, this time only three of them. Now he was worried for the person on the other side. Surely that was someone, exhausted and desperate, looking for aid. So he quickened his step, unlocked the door and opened it.

"Hel-?" he began but stopped when he saw who it was.

Arthur was leaning against the door frame, using it to keep himself upright. His fangs were elongated and his eyes glowed brightly against the darkness beyond Francis's door. There was sweat running down his temples and had stuck his hair to his forehead. He was without jacket, probably feeling too hot if Francis was any judge. His t-shirt had glowing tally marks on it and his jeans weren't as tight, as if he had chosen clothes for comfort rather than appearance.

As soon as Francis spoke, Arthur's head whipped up and his unfocussed eyes locked onto Francis. But he didn't look Francis in the eye: Francis was sure he was staring in the general direction of his neck. Licking his lips, Arthur gulped, his Adam's apple bobbing. Then he glanced up to meet Francis's eyes. "Master," he breathed, his tone a mixture of begging and pleasure. It made shivers run up Francis's spine.

Then Arthur was upon him, fangs sinking into Francis's neck. He could feel that same pressure and the satisfaction of feeding someone. Even though he was startled, eyes wide, Francis had the presence of mind to step backwards despite the savage growl that ripped from Arthur's throat as his meal tried to move away from him. But Francis stilled once he'd managed to get them both inside and closed the door. Arthur purred – literally purred; Francis had never heard a vampire do that before – at that and pressed Francis against the wall, greedily drinking from him.

Finding himself smiling, Francis sighed happily. He wasn't sure what these emotions were any more but he liked them, felt better than he had in centuries. As Arthur pressed into him, eager for more, Francis wrapped his arms around Arthur's waist and bent his neck more, willingly letting him feed.

It only took a few more minutes before Arthur was suddenly jerking away, almost ripping out Francis's throat in his haste to get away. Francis reluctantly let him move away from him. Arthur stared, wide-eyed, at nothing, backing up until he was flat against the opposite wall.

"What the-? Where am I-?" Then his eyes took in Francis and he flinched. "Wha-? Why am I-? What did you do to me?!" There wasn't any accusation in his tone, only desperation and fear, as if he was on the edge of tears.

"I need you to tell me how you got here," Francis said gently, gesturing for Arthur to follow him back into the living room. The dim light from the lamps dotted around the room gave it a cosy feel and he was sure Arthur would be able to calm down in there rather in the narrow hallway.

Thankfully, Arthur followed, sitting beside Francis on his couch. "I... I don't know. I've been... hungry. Nothing helps. I've been eating almost as much as Alfred. But I'm always hungry. And it was getting worse. Then... Then..." Arthur frowned as he thought. "There was this... pull. I couldn't stop myself. I was so hungry. I didn't really know where I was going but I just knew I had to." His gaze lifted to Francis's. "Is this to do with the vampire thing?" he asked, dryly.

"It looks like it," Francis admitted. "I've never turned someone before."

"What?" asked Arthur, flatly.

"I only knew what to do because someone I know has done it before."

"Why couldn't I get that guy?" Arthur muttered, folding his arms.

"Here..." Francis said, digging out his phone. "I'll call him. I've been meaning to, anyway, but..."

"But what?"

"I was embarrassed," Francis admitted with a shrug of his shoulder.

He rang Vlad's number and waited for it to connect before it trilled. Seeing Arthur's intense stare, he put the phone on speaker and set it down on the coffee table. Finally, there was an answer. "Francis, what in all that is unholy-?" Vlad grumbled. "Do you know what time it is?"

"I'm sorry," Francis said, grimacing a little, aware that it was probably early morning in Europe. "I have an emergency."

"Oh? A hunter finally after you?" Vlad sounded a little excited at that prospect.

"They're all but extinct," Francis said, rolling his eyes at Arthur who looked at least a little amused, if just for a moment. "This is more serious. Vlad. I... I turned someone..."

"Vlad?" he heard Arthur murmur but he ignored him for the moment.

"You did? Hey, welcome to the club!"

"Vlad!" Francis cried. "He just came to my house. He was drawn here and he... drank from me."

"Well, duh!" Vlad replied and Francis could imagine him rolling those unnatural red eyes. "With each 'next generation' of vampires, the intensity of the... let's call it a disease. It's diminished as it goes down the line. He still needs blood but he doesn't crave or stalk human blood. He needs yours. And only yours. Why d'ya think I turned Andon? I really loved his blood – still do, actually. Love me some A-plus blood. Heh heh, see what I did there? Because-"

"We get it," said Francis quickly. "What did you mean by 'only mine'?"

"Oh, that's all that'll quench his hunger. See, he'll get cravings, sure. And he'll be able to eat his favourite foods and drink his favourite drinks. His blood's pretty much the same so he'll be affected by alcohol and you can still get some delicious...?"

"AB-negative," said Francis reluctantly, when it was clear Vlad wasn't going to continue.

"Oooh, aren't you a lucky dog!" said Vlad, cheerfully. Arthur scowled at the phone. "Anyways, the only thing that'll really quench that hunger is your blood. Nothing else. Not even another vampire's blood. He's completely dependent on you so don't let him get too far away – if he doesn't get your blood consistently, he'll go mad and kill everyone in the vicinity. Oh! Sorry. Francis turned someone, just helping 'em. Go back to sleep, darling. Sorry, Francis, I'm gonna have to go. Wanna snuggle with Andon more-" A loud groan cut him off and then he hung up, leaving the two vampires in a tense silence.

"You mean to say," Arthur finally whispered, his voice hissing dangerously, "that I'm stuck with you?"

Stunned, Francis raised his eyes to Arthur's and flinched from his glare. "I am so sorry," Francis whispered in return.

"This is... This is-! No! I don't- I've got- This is all your fault!" Arthur shouted as his voice steadily rose and he leapt to his feet. "How could you?!"

"I'm so sorry," Francis repeated, standing to try to placate Arthur, hands raised.

"No!" Arthur snapped, slapping Francis's hands away. He glared once more at Francis before barging past him. Francis barely kept to his feet and quickly turned to try to stop him. But Arthur turned before he had gotten far, finger pointing at Francis accusingly. "I hate you!" he declared, venom in his voice.

Somehow, that hurt Francis more than being turned had. "Wait. Arthur, please. We need to talk about-"

But Arthur had already stomped from the room and he was cut off by the slam of his front door. Francis stared at his living room door, willing Arthur to return. Then he barked out a laugh and collapsed into his couch, hand pressed against his brow.

What was he worried about? Arthur was doomed to return in a few days' time.

Or blessed. ;)

I see their subsequent relationship as going something like this: Arthur resists for as much time as possible before going back - time between feedings gets shorter - eventually he goes every day but refuses to let Francis drink from him despite Francis getting quite desperate - they become sort of friends - Arthur lets him drink from him - with their blissful feedings, their relationship becomes sexual - fall in love - live happily ever after!