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fwkei · 3 years

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How can you be so warm in a place so cold?

Izana x reader (fluff-angst)

WC: 3.3k

CW/TW: Mentions of alcohol, mentions of abuse, mentions of drugs, mentions of blood.

AN: made this take place right before the battle between Toman and Tenjiku, No spoilers. Explanation at the end of the story just incase you dont understand

hey guys, thanks so much on the support/feedback on my last work. I appreciate it sm, and thank you for 5 followers 🥳 love yall fr. ANYWAYS, heres something i just made I hope you enjoy, and again i did not proof read this so I apologize for any mistakes, enjoy!

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“....Do you remember it?”

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

The air felt sharp against the skin on your face. But this feeling comforted you in a way. Although it wasn't much, you looked forward to this part of your day, where you could just think and not worry for a couple of hours.

You fisted your hands inside your pockets to create some sort of friction and warmth. You nuzzled your chin and mouth under your thick zipped up jacket that was a little too big on you when the park you always come to came into view.

You looked down at your feet when suddenly you heard the squeak of a moving chain, you looked up. To see a boy sitting on one of the swings, slightly swaying back and forth.

Your eyes softened at the sadden look on his face, and so you sat on the swing right next to him, taking your hands out of your pocket to hold onto the cold chains. He looked down at his dangled feet, and you only looked out into the scenery, debating on what you should say to the young boy.

He was small but still a little bigger than you. His skin was tan and had light pale hair. He seemed upset, maybe even angry. You hadn't even noticed that your gaze completely turned to him. You saw his hands that were resting on his thighs, moving up to grip the chains of the swing as he looked over at you with his cat-like irises. His eyes, they captivated you. They were a color you had never seen before. A lavender. A really soft and beautiful lavender.

You two held eye contact for a good two minutes. When one of you suddenly decided to speak.

“What are you doing out here this late?” he asked in a slightly irritated tone still keeping eye contact with you

“I’m waiting for my mom to finish with work..” you said looking back out

“Then why don’t you just go home. You shouldn't be out here.” he said swaying a bit

“But..I’m always out here, and I don't consider that place a home.” you said swaying with him on your swing

You saw anger and frustration fill the boy's eyes. His eyebrows furrowed, and grip tightened on the chains as he looked at you with hate.

“Do you realize how spoiled you sound? You have a mom and a house. That you can go home to whenever you want. And you’re wanted! There's no reason for you to be out here and act like you’re miserable! Just go away!” he yelled at you

He expected you to cry, frown, get angry, give at least some sort of reaction, and it angered him that his words didn't bother you. Your eyes still softly looked into his. Eyes with a hint of pity. It angered him even more. Just as he was about to speak and yell again. He gritted his teeth and stopped himself when he saw you look down.

“That's not it..at all.” you said watching your feet dangle over the thin layer of snow

“Then what is it?” he asked jumping out of his swing and standing in front of yours

“Why do you want to know?” you asked looking up slightly at him making his breath hitch in confusion

“Because..” he said getting quiet and realizing his outburst was rude

“What is your name?” you asked, stepping out of your seat to stand in front of him face to face, him only a few centimeters taller than you.

“I..Izana..” he said finally getting a good and close look into your eyes

He felt his eyes soften. He felt pity. He felt bad. He now knew he was wrong about you, everything he assumed was completely wrong. Izana could see the hurt in your eyes, he could tell you were going through a lot, and you could tell the same with him. He backed away slightly once he saw you smile.

He felt his heartbeat stop for a moment seeing it. How could you smile right now? Why would you smile right now? After his hurtful words...After what you were going through at home..why?

“My name is Y/n. I’m 10.” you said holding out your hand to the boy with a shocked face

“10 too..” he said slowly, bringing his hand to grasp yours..

He felt his body warm up and mouth part. Your hand was warm, so warm and soft despite the cold air and chains that touched you. It confused him.

How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Y/n?

Izana thought to himself.

“Your hands are cold...here take my gloves...I don’t use them anyway. Do you come to this park a lot? I’ve never seen you here before..” you asked, reaching further into your pockets and taking out a pair of dark red knitted gloves and handing it to the boy in front of you. Looking into his eyes, waiting for a response.

“Thank..you...and you consider this a park? It’s just 2 swings under a streetlight..” he said softly taking the gloves from your hands gently

“Do you not? I thought it was..nice even though it’s not much, I come here every night.” you said

“You don’t get bored of it?” he asked

“It’s the best it’s ever gonna get for me.” you said tucking your hands into your sleeves

Izana’s mouth parted at your words. He knows you were going through something but what? Why was someone like you settling for something so...bad? Izana knew nothing about you except for the fact that you were overly nice. Overly nice to the point where it made him calm down.

“I can uh.. I can..take you to a better park! I know a place! Do you wanna come with me?” he asked bringing his arms to grasp you wrists tight making you surprised

Your eyes traced his face as a small smile grew on your face. Izana felt his face warm up at seeing you smile. It made him feel...good. Really good. It made him feel wanted. And he wanted to see you do it more often. He didn't even realize that because of your smile, a smile grew on his face as well. After a couple of seconds of looking into each others eyes, again...your eyes closed giving him a closed eyed smile as you said with a soft laugh-

“I do.”

Izana let out a scoff of excitement as his eyes traveled down to your hands. Letting go of your wrists and lowering one of his hands to hold your hand tight. He looked back into your eyes with a different look. A look where you finally saw light in his eyes, and it made them that much more beautiful.

“Okay. Don’t let go, just run with me.” he said as he started to walk and look back at you waiting for your reassurance

“Okay.” you smiled bringing your other hand to hold your hat as you two started to run against the cold wind

The cold wind hit your eyes, making you squint. Occasionally Izana would look back at you while running to make sure you were okay, and it really was one of the best sights of your life. Seeing his slightly flushed face from the cold wind looking back at you with a soft and small grin and messy bangs spread across his face. It made your eyes widen and your face relax. He is so pretty when he smiles. You wanted to see him smile more often, it made you feel loved.

The running turned to jogging, the jogging turned to fast walking, and that turned to slow steps. You two stood in front of the park, with your hands still intertwined. You pushed up your hat that was blocking your view slightly and looked up to a park. A park with 2 slides, 4 swings, monkey bars, rods, and all sorts of things. With bright and warm lights shining over it… There was grass instead of cement, colorful benches instead of dirt covered stools, and families with children instead of people with drugs. You felt the excitement grow all across your body. Your mouth opened as you let out a gasp of happiness. Your face flushed because of the overwhelming feeling. And Izana watched all of it. Didn’t blink once when looking at your happy face.

“Cmon! Let’s go and play!” you said gripping his hand tighter before letting go and running to the park

“Yeah!’ he said running after you with a big smile plastered across his face

Hour’s went by, but it only felt like a couple of minutes. You two let your minds run wild, pretending you lead a crew of pirates who had to fight against fish people, to running a spaceship that was battling against aliens, to pretending that the floor was some type of acid that could kill you making you two crawl around the apparatus like spiders till both of your minds and bodies grew tired.

You two had played so much to the point where the cold snowy air didn't even feel cold, but like an AC on a hot summer day. You sat on your legs under the apparatus, while Izana sat the same way, but was playing with the grass on the ground. You watched his fingers fiddle with the green strings. You wanted to ask something, but couldn't seem to put your thoughts into words.

“Izana-” you said looking at him, waiting for his eyes to meet yours

“Yes?” he said looking at you

“....Can we be friends?” you asked rubbing your hands waiting for his answer

His eyes widened..you wanted him. Not only did you want him, but you wanted to be friends with him, be beside him, be with him. It made his heart feel weird, almost fuzzy.

“Yeah! Let’s be friends.” he said smiling making you smile too

“What about you? Do you have a home?” you asked

“No..I uh..I don’t. I don't have a family.” he signed deciding to keep back his sob story

“Don’t worry, I get it. You can talk to me about it whenever we’re together again.” you said

“When will we be together again?” he asked tilting his head

“I don't know..but...I’ll always be at those swings, everyday. And when we get older..we can do other stuff in other places..like go to the beach..and bowling..you know?” you said smiling while counting things on your fingers

“Yeah okay..sounds fun..Y/n..I can’t wait till we get older!” he said smiling making you laugh a little bit

“Same!” you said

Both of your heads quickly turned when hearing an angry man scream, a scream you knew far too well.

“Damn it! You stupid little girl! Is this where you’ve been?! Huh?!” you both heard the male scream

“Who is that? Who is he talking to?” asked Izana keeping his eyes on the man as he walked closer and closer

“No..oh no..I’m late..” you said in a shaky voice

“What?” asked Izana

“Duck and hide. Izana please..” you whispered quickly gathering all of you stuff and crawling out from under the apparatus

Izana had never in his life seen such a terrified face. Your eyes were wide, and your hands were shaking...but not from the cold, but from pure fear. Usually Izana would protest at orders thrown so suddenly at him by people...but the way your voice and whole energy changed within a split second made Izana shut up and listen to you. He ducked under the piece of plastic, Hiding himself while still letting his eye poke out to see you.

“I’m sorry…” you said walking over to the man quickly looking down

“Look at me when you speak to me.” he said when suddenly you felt a harsh and sharp slap against your cheek causing your head to turn to the side. You brought your hand to your cheek, while turning back to look at the man. Izana’s mouth parted in shock and disgust. Just as he was about to run out, you spoke again.

“I’m sorry, it won’t happen again.” you said

“Damn right it won’t happen again! You think I like it when your whore mother calls me late at night telling me how ‘our’ kid isn’t home yet?! A kid I never wanted but I have to worry about?! Jesus fucking Christ. Bad shit always has to happen to good guys huh? I just wanted a fuck but this is what I get. he said as you grind your teeth in anger

“I’m sorry.” you said again bowing

Izana’s heart was beating so hard..he could feel it right against his ear. The amount of guilt and pity he was feeling was unbearable, he wanted so desperately to just get up and just defend you, in any way he could, and so he tried to change his position to get ready to run out and help you. But as he did so, his foot hit the halo metal causing a quiet bang, but since the street was quiet it could be heard. Loud enough for the angry drunk man with a bottle of alcohol in his hand to hear. Izana stopped dead in his tracks, and your eyes widened in fear.

“Are you..Are you with someone?” he asked in an angry and deep voice as he started to walk towards the sound

“No! It’s just the rabbit I found! I was feeding it under the slide because that’s where the most full grass is! It probably just ran away.” you said spilling out lies on the spot with scared eyes desperately hoping he would believe you.

“Yeah yeah, I don't care about your little rabbit. Now c'mon start walking, I wanna buy a beer before taking you back.” he said, slightly pushing you, making you lose your balance slightly as your father walked in front of you.

You took a deep breath of relief, as you started to walk you looked back seeing Izana had crawled out slightly, just enough for you to see him, and for him to see you. You saw he had eyes filled with worry and fear, you didn't want him to worry, truly. Because the night you had just spent with him...made your day...actually the rest of your life. And so you gave a soft smile and waved before placing your hands back into your pockets and turning your head forward.

Izana could only watch you walk away in confusion, in anger, in sadness, in every emotion there was. He could understand that you two were different sides of the same coin. And it honestly hurt him. Hurt him so greatly to the point where he swore to himself that he would do anything he can to not just see you smile, but to keep you safe.

And there was no way on earth he could fail at that, no way he would let you sacrifice your body for his well being like you had just done, no way he would let himself...right?

“When we first met...Do you remember it?” you asked looking into his eyes that were now filled with tears

He felt his body go cold….cold like that one night..That one night when he met you.

He couldn't respond, and only nodded his head, as his thumb wiped the blood that spilled from the side of your lips

“Wasn’t it fun?” you asked smiling

“It was.” he responded feeling his heart ache at your smile

“It was the best day of my life.” you said feeling a lump in your throat

“We can talk about that day later, let’s go to the hospital right now, okay?” he said holding his hand over your bloody wounds

“I think this is it, Izana.” you said laughing a bit as he shook his head ‘no’ at your words

“Don’t talk like that, please don’t talk like that.” he said, holding back his sobs, making his words come out shaky.

“Do you remember what I asked you? About wanting to be friends?” you asked bringing your hand up to lift his chin

He didn’t respond with words, but the frown on his face, grew, letting you know he did. Of course he did. Izana would never forget a moment between you two.

“What I really wanted to...say back then was...that I liked you, but we were only so small, and as...I grew up with you, I realized it was more. Sound’s kinda cliche right? Was it the same with you?” you said in between pauses of pain.

“Y/n stop making this sound like a goodbye, I won’t let it be a goodbye, okay?!” he yelled out of frustration, but again, you showed no reaction, like before when he first lashed out on you. It made his eyes soften when realizing the poison you two were in, was just like years before. Just like when you first met.

At the park, with 2 swings, and 1 street light shining over it.

Suddenly, all the thoughts in his head were stopped when he felt your embrace. Your arms wrapped under his arms and around his upper stomach, and you cheek against his collarbone and neck. He was hesitant, his arms still hovering over yours, not hugging you back yet. But you didn't mind.

“Don’t worry, I get it.” said slightly nuzzling yourself into him, breathing in his scent which you loved so much.

“I-”

Izana felt his heart beat so slowly.. at the familiar words you were speaking. But they were different from before, this time, you didn’t talk about being in his future...like you did before. His arms were still refusing to hug you back. His mouth still refusing to accept and return your love.

“How do you think things would’ve been?

“Y/n..”

“Do you think we would've ended up together, and had a family? Like a type of family we never had?”

“Y/n please..”

The feeling in your throat became stronger. You frowned and bit your inner cheek to keep in your sobs

“How can you be so warm in a place so cold, Izana?”

You heard Izana’s breath hitch at your words. His head slowly and hesitantly rested on yours, as you felt hot tears coat your scalp. And his arm’s fell to his sides, still refusing the fact that this is a goodbye.

But why was he refusing? He could’ve easily grabbed you and ran to the hospital. But instead he didn’t. He couldn’t. Because he knew deep down that it was already too late. Your body was cold. So cold, it was unsettling. Because your body was never cold. You were always warm, you were home for Izana. Izana knew if he tried to make it to the hospital, it would make his final moments with you a waste.

So what was he doing? He doesn’t know himself...All he knew was that he wanted to be with you till the end, but a part of him couldn't accept that this was in fact...the end for you two.

“Please don’t leave.” he said in a shaky tone against your head

“I’m sorry.” you said feeling the hot tears that were congested in your eyes, finally fall out

“Don’t say that…” he said

“Izana?” you said fighting against your sobs

“Yes?” he said

“I love you. And I always have.” you said smiling as you felt your final breaths.

Izana felt your grip on him loosen, and just as it did, he brought his arms and wrapped them over your cold body.

You felt it, you felt his embrace, and you heard him scream that he loves you back, You heard and felt it all. But you couldn't let him know that you did. You couldn't even keep your smile as you took your final breaths. But you did feel the hot tears run across your cheek. And down to your neck, as he cried and screamed in regret.

HIs body, still so warm..so warm against something so cold.

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Explanation SPOILER HERE FOR TENJIKU ARC: BASICALLY, Y/n died before the battle against Toman, it’s not in the ff(as to who killed y/n) because i wanted the reader to have some control, but in this ff I made it so that Y/ns death was another reason for Izana to wanna take down Toman and Mikey, so as i was making this i had the imagine that Kisaki would be to kill or have someone else kill Y/n to make Izana even more unstable and easier to manipulate, hence the whole fight thing so yeah lmao. Izana and Y/n thought of each other as home, and fell in love with the feeling of being with each other i guess? BUT in the end, Izana thinks he’s too late, and thinks that Y/n didnt hear/feel him, which just makes him even more frustrated and angry, so he feels guilty and ends up taking that out on others and taking loved ones from others too (hence being a motive for ordering for emma ot be killed) sorry if this is confusing

#tokyo revengers #mikey tokyo revengers #izana #izana kurokawa #izana x y/n #kakucho #tokyo revengers angst #angst #fluff #idk lol

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yeojaa · 4 years

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finders keep hers, iii.

read parts one and two! the long awaited conclusion! i’m sorry it turned into a friggin’ novel. i hope it does the first two parts justice, though. these kids are... idiots. i love them and you (and also the best beta reader @hobi-gif)! 💖

pairing. jjk x named f!reader. rating. explicit, ofc. tags. this is... really soft at certain parts. and then really raunchy at others. oops? but fr - mainly fluff with some smut at the end. you might need a filling. wc. 5.4k.

You’re buzzed into the building without a moment’s hesitation, the kind concierge with the gummy smile and greying temples beaming at you as you enter. “Nice to see you, Miss Lee.”

“You too, Mr. Choi.” A grin of your own is offered, gym bag hiked higher over your shoulder as you pause to chat. You’re in no rush. “Is he home?”

“I don’t believe so.” The sudden look of disapproval that colours the older gentleman’s features is almost comical, reminiscent of a disparaging parent. It’s the same expression you’re greeted with nearly every time you visit. “He left in a town car yesterday afternoon and I don’t think he’s been back since. That boy’s going to get himself in trouble one day.” As if Jungkook didn’t already - as if it didn’t follow him around, glued to the bottoms of his Italian leather shoes.

“Tell me about it.”

“You know…” There’s that twinkle in Mr. Choi’s eyes again - the one that tells you he’s about to repeat the same words he always does when he catches you alone. “A nice girl like you could get him to settle down.”

Your response is what it always is - a scoff and a laugh rolled into one. It careens off your tongue, ringing in the spacious lobby. “I don’t think anyone will ever get him to settle down.”

How true that is, you’re not sure. For your sake, you try not to think about it too much.

The old man is undeterred though, shrugging his narrow shoulders beneath the neat uniform he wears. It’s a little loose in the chest but immaculate otherwise, tie knotted in a classic Windsor and collar ironed perfectly. He levels you with that shrewd stare of his but says nothing further, simply engaging you in an unspoken staring contest.

Sometimes, you wonder how much he sees. How much he knows .

You break before he does, tearing your gaze away and blinking rapidly. He laughs, full bellied and deep from the chest. “Get on upstairs, Miss Lee.” You aren’t offended by the dismissal. “It’s always nice chatting with you.”

You remind yourself to bring him chocolates the next time you’re by. The ones with hazelnuts, because those are his favourite. A fact you only know because you’ve helped your best friend pick up a box for him every Christmas, writing the card and having him sign it right before it gets left behind the desk.

Actually, you helped Jungkook with a lot of things. Always had. It was simply the nature of your friendship - passed down by your parents and forged stronger by childhood playdates, your fair share of teenage squabbling, and college hangovers so bad they’d created an unbreakable bond.

Whenever he would need you, you’d be there - whether that meant picking him up at 4 AM from the airport because he wanted “some shitty fast food and to see you” or helping him pick gifts for Mother’s Day. There was no task too small, no moment too inconsequential.

Unconditional love, they called it.

It’s why you have no problem swanning into his apartment with the extra key you’ve had since he moved in, kicking off your trainers and tucking them neatly alongside the rows of black leather and expensive sneakers.

You do so much for him that you take where you can, indulging in all of the luxuries you’ve never been afforded. Unparalleled view, stupidly expensive toiletries, a damn jacuzzi tub .

You pull your sweater over your head - truthfully, one of Jungkook’s from college that you’d never felt inclined to give back - and toss it over the back of a barstool on your way into the guest suite. Your bag follows shortly after, deposited at the foot of the bed that exists as a rotating welcome mat to your and Jungkook’s circle of friends.

The rest of your clothes - sports bra, shorts, thong, socks - are stripped, folded, and tucked into the laundry bag you keep handy. You know you could leave them here and Jungkook’s housekeeper would take care of it, but you’ve never been too comfortable with that. Different upbringings.

The spray is like sweet relief the moment you step beneath the rainforest shower. It’s the perfect temperature and pressure, melting the sweat and tension from your bones.

But it isn't why you’re here, so you make quick work in the glass enclosure, scrubbing your body bare and lathering and conditioning your hair into a squeaky clean mess. Any other time, you’d just spend a good half hour standing beneath the head but you’re feeling particularly indulgent today.

Call it a spa day, courtesy of one Jeon Jungkook.

You don’t bother to dry off, water splashing across the floor as you step from the shower and sink into the spacious tub that overlooks the heart of Seoul. Diptyque bath oil encapsulates the room in a bubble of sweet almond, similarly branded candle burning on the ledge. The jets release a steady stream against your tired back and legs, massaging your limbs into jelly.

You can’t help the sigh of utter relaxation that rolls off your tongue, sinking into water in the same instance your shoulders do.

This is what dreams are made of. Anyone who says differently is an idiot and a liar.

“When are you going to tell her?”

You’re not expecting the voice and it breaks the silence like a thousand pound weight, shattering the calm and nearly startling you enough for you to knock your head on the edge of the tub.

There’s no reason for you to be surprised. Not really. This isn’t your home, after all. You aren’t entitled to any sort of privacy.

It doesn’t matter, though. The discomfort in your chest is unfolding regardless, lodging rocks in your throat.

Because it’s a female voice. Lilting, soft, draped in familiarity. Not someone brand new.

Your heart stutters at the realisation. The rush of blood against your eardrums is so loud you momentarily wonder whether they can hear it all the way in the living room. They must be able to - it’s practically deafening. You can’t even hear the rest of their conversation.

Their conversation .

Which seems to have ended, leaving only silence.

You suddenly remember your shoes, your sweater. Traces of you littered throughout the apartment that isn’t yours. God, you’re an idiot. He was going to kill you - or she was. You’re not sure which is worse.

You’re reaching for the fluffy white towel on the rack when you’re scared near half to death yet again. This time, by your best friend who cuts an imposing figure in the doorway, broad form resting casually against the frame. He looks surprisingly unbothered, curls pushed back from his forehead by a pair of sunglasses and arms folded over his chest.

“Jesus!” The shriek comes four octaves higher than it normally would, pitching into the open so loudly you wince. “You scared me!”

You can’t help the way you peek past his shoulder for a sign of the girl he’d brought home.

“Enjoying yourself?” There’s something amused dancing in the darks of his eyes, his mouth curving around the same emotion as he steps into the bathroom. You’d be bothered if he were anyone else, unnecessarily long legs carrying him to you in three strides.

“I didn’t know you were home.” You can’t quite meet his stare, still far too distracted by the mystery woman. Had he left her on the couch? Maybe his bedroom as he snuck you out? What excuse could he come up with?

“Didn’t know you were home either.”

He’s made himself comfortable right on the ledge of the tub, marked fingers dragging lazily through the still-scalding water. He doesn’t seem terribly in a rush. That puts you on edge.

Was he going to hide you in here?

“I wanted to relax after my run.” You don’t owe him an explanation - not really - but you offer it anyway. You figure you need to, when you might’ve ruined his Sunday morning romp session. You can’t bring yourself to address it, though. The words just won’t come, sitting on the tip of your tongue like thorns. It hurts to swallow.

Jungkook doesn’t further the conversation - a first for him. He’s normally a chatterbox.

The silence stretches on. Suffocating.

You force yourself to speak, staring down at your hands that are slowly pruning beneath the water. “Should I… go?” The way it comes is feeble, soft, uncertain. You hate it.

By the look of surprise on his face, he does, too. He cackles suddenly, like a goddamn witch. “Why?”

Heat floods across your cheeks. You wish you could blame it on the bath or the steam that still collects on the mirrors. It pulls high over your ears, colouring them tomato red and embarrassed. Surely, he knows why.

When he repeats himself, it’s harder, without any of the laughter from before.

Rather than answer, you wave a hand through the air, fingers wiggling. The universal sign for you know . It should be enough - you hope it’s enough. Your ego won’t let you verbalise it.

“Suddenly mute, baby?”

It isn’t quite mocking - teasing, maybe - but it stokes the fire that burns in the pit of your stomach and licks uncomfortably at the organ in your chest. You don’t even look at him as you nearly spit the words, petulant and far more bothered than you should be. “You’ve got a girl here.”

A laugh that isn’t quite a laugh comes, swathed in velvet and coloured blue. The effort you make to not shoot him a glare is herculean.

He’s still snickering when he speaks. “You mean my sister?”

“Your sister?” It’s more surprise at yourself that has you whipping to look at him, bewilderment tossing all other emotion out the window. Because his sister was practically your sister. How had you not recognised her voice? You feel silly all at once, the embarrassment from earlier fading into reticence.

“Yeah. I spent the night babysitting the twins.”

You sometimes forget how much Jungkook loves children - especially his sisters’. It’s hard to reconcile the family man he effortlessly transforms into when he spends most of his waking hours playing the perfect part of unaffected bachelor.

“How are they?” You ask because you care - you adore Minseo and Minhyuk - but also so you can move the conversation along. The last thing you want to do is dwell on your mistake.

“They’re good. Getting big.” He’s got that smile on his face - the one that’s softer than any other, with deep lines at the corners of his eyes. Reserved especially for the people he cares about most. Your favourite sight. “You can come with me next time. Minnie asked about you, anyway.”

Warmth blossoms in your chest.

Being liked by peers? Great. Being respected by your superiors? Rewarding. But being loved by children? It was in a league all its own - better than ice cream on a hot day.

“Sure.” You can’t keep the grin away.

That is, until he speaks again, circling the conversation back. “So, were you jealous?” His ability to piss you off is uncanny. It’s like it’s written into his genetic code, each molecule of his body tasked with ruining your day.

“No.” It’s meant to be a scoff. It’s not very believable.

“You sure, princess?” The fingers on your chin are wholly unnecessary - he’s got you caught in his stare, locked in place with nowhere to go.

“Yes, Bunny .” You know how much he hates the nickname, only tolerating it because it’s you. You can’t deny the pleasure that comes at the sight of his jaw tensing, muscle jumping in agitation. Just as he’s your weakness, you’re his, too. “Now let me finish—”

He cuts you off, sharp and unrelenting: “Get out.”

“Excuse me?”

“You heard me. Get out of the tub or I’m pulling you out myself.” Risen to his full height, he’s an imposing figure. Even worse, there’s something you can’t read in his expression - something that has your nerves firing wildly. Your heart rattles around in your chest, uncertain.

He leaves you without another word.

You scramble out of the bath as quickly as your confused limbs allow you, knotting the towel beneath your arms. You’re not quite sure what to do next, caught between pulling your clean clothes out of your workout bag and demanding an answer from your sphinx of a best friend.

What the hell was his problem?

Your impatience wins out as you’re tugging a brush through your hair, fumbling uncharacteristically through knots until you’re too frustrated to continue. You’re ready to tear into him when you storm out of the guestroom; you’ve got a barrage of insults on your tongue, proverbial gun cocked and ready to unload.

They melt away when you spy him on the couch, neatly wrapped bouquet laid across the coffee table.

“Come here.” It’s not a request so much as a demand - commanding and soft all at once. A small part of you wants to fire off a rebuttal; that part dies when he repeats himself, louder this time.

The seat you take beside him is begrudging, a good foot of space held between your bodies. You fiddle with the hem of your towel, turning a loose thread over and over your index finger.

“What?” It’s snippy, discontent - kerosene on the fire that burns beneath Jungkook’s skin.

“Watch it,” he retorts, though there’s no acid to his words. Frankly, he sounds more frustrated than angry, more exasperated than pissed off.

That makes one of you.

Only he can bring out this side of you - brusque and biting. “ You watch it, Bunny.”

Fingers find the bridge of his nose, a gesture you don’t see very often. Guilt blooms behind your ribcage as he rubs at the tension between his eyes. For someone who has it all, he looks like he’s a moment away from losing it.

“You’re a brat, you know that?”

“Takes one to know one,” you retort, not unkindly.

“You’re making this really hard,” he snaps in the same instant he all but throws the overwhelming bunch of flowers at you.

You nearly drop them you’re so surprised.

“What are these for?”

“You.”

“Me?”

“Did I stutter?”

If you weren’t so busy studying the arrangement of florals, you’d have some witty comeback. As it stands, you’re preoccupied by the pretty bunch of peonies and tulips. You wonder what he’s done wrong - why he’s found it necessary to soften the blow with your favourite flowers.

Your thoughts drift back to his sister’s words: when are you going to tell her?

All at once, you want nothing more than to leave. You don’t want whatever heartbreak is about to come. You’re not ready for it.

“Listen—”

He cuts you off, again. “I love you.”

You’re not sure how your face looks. You imagine you could look up flabbergasted in the dictionary and you’d find a photo of your expression right now. “What?”

Jungkook won’t quite look at you, intently focused on an indiscernible point against the far wall. When he speaks the words again, they’re full of uncertainty - but not in the way you expect. The confession is as believable as any you’ve ever heard - he really does sound like he loves you - but somehow, it’s draped in dread and held aloft by hummingbird wings. “I love you.”

He’s nervous, you realise in amazement.

“Come again?”

He meets your stare then, brow knitting with unease. He doesn’t say it again, though.

“Are you messing around with me?” You don’t mean it how it comes - a little accusatory.

“I’m not an asshole.” Except both of you know he certainly can be. You don’t call him on it, though, opting instead to peer curiously at him, hands fisted around the bouquet in your lap. “I talked to my sister. She…” He shrugs once, an almost helpless roll of his shoulders. “She told me I was an idiot.”

You’re not surprised by that. Lina had always been the one to give it to him straight.

“She said I would lose you if I didn’t get my shit together.” There’s a bit of childish petulance that works its way into each syllable - he hates being told what to do. “Said I needed to tell you or I’d regret it. Which is stupid, because we’ve been best friends forever and she’s younger than me so what does she know—” He must realise he’s rambling, something he never does. “But—”

“But?” Quiet, hopeful, coaxing.

There’s a warmth in your chest - illuminating and golden and so bright it hurts to think about. It grows with each moment that passes, spurred on by the look in his eyes and how they find yours.

Hesitation pulls the silence a beat too long. The light wanes. You wonder if the moment has passed.

And then he continues, a little more earnestly. “Was she right? Am I going to lose you?”

You’re not entirely sure what he’s asking. You don’t think he even knows what he’s asking. You try to answer anyway, as honest as you can without pinning your heart directly on your sleeve. “You’ll never lose me.”

“You know what I mean.”

Did you? “You’ll never lose me.” You’re the one repeating yourself this time, just that bit harder.

“Then say it.” Again, not a request. A prayer, perhaps. Ardent and needy - a world away from the Jeon Jungkook you know.

You don’t hesitate. “I love you.”

He doesn’t either - upon you so quickly you don’t have time to blink or think.

How he kisses you now feels different. More . It’s like being consumed entirely - changed from the inside out in ways you never thought possible. Where he touches, sparks fly, filling you like stars in the night sky. Lava rolls over every inch, dragging heat and want and need from the soles of your feet to the tip of your nose. You’re gasping rather than breathing, clawing against the front of his shirt and twining your fingers into the strands that curl over his nape.

“You never told me you could kiss like that.” It’s lacking coherence, made by a partial inhale and wild, wondrous eyes.

His response is a laugh and another kiss, forceful and adoring and utterly devastating. “Shut up,” he mouths against your lips, tongue licking over your teeth and gums like he’s trying to memorise every inch of you. Hands follow in the same amorous motions, tugging and pulling and aching for you closer; the tips of his fingers sear white hot heat over your hips, the small of your waist, the delicate bones of your ribcage.

“I’m serious...” You really are - far more than you should be. You’d been missing out on this ? It’s incomprehensible.

The sound he makes is more of a growl, playful and resounding in the cavern of his chest. It rattles your own, sending your heart on a downward spiral into the pit of your stomach. His nose traces the column of your throat, soft lips guiding him further until he’s mouthing hotly over the bare skin of your shoulder. Tongue teases, delves ever so gently into the dip of your collarbone, and swipes back up, laving over the maroon that peeks around the edge of his teeth. You can’t help but keen, holding him so closely you wonder if you’re suffocating him.

“So am I.” Each syllable is punctuated by another nip, another nibble. It seems like his goal is to bloom roses across your skin - a wreath to welcome him home, made by his own touch.

You don’t mind.

“Say it again,” he demands, hopeful and unashamed from his place against your neck.

The admission comes easily, as if it’s always lived on the tip of your tongue. “I love you.”

“Again.” You’re not ready for the way he stares at you - like he’s never done before. Like he’s seeing you for the first time and he’s awestruck. “Say it again.”

“I love you.” Hands find the familiar contours of his face, thumbs brushing over the hollows of his eyes, over the beauty mark that sits front and centre beneath his lip. Each graze follows a repetition of the confession, as if you might burn the three simple words beneath his skin - write it into his DNA like he’s written into yours. “I love you. I love you. I love you, Bunny .”

He holds you close - so tightly it feels almost as if he’ll crush you - and captures your mouth again. It’s more gentle but just as lovesick. A thousand unspoken words spill from his tongue to yours, swallowed whole with greed you don’t bother to hide.

“I need you.” It’s whiny, framed by a pout that could end wars and paired with doe eyes so wide and innocent you almost want to roll your own.

“You have me.”

“Do I?” There’s a very deliberate roll of his hips, denim of his jeans rough against the exposed softness of your inner thighs, hands manoeuvring over the partially covered swell of your hips. The press of his fingers is purposeful, digging tension into every inch. As if he might transfer some of the unadulterated need that thrums through his veins, turning his heart to jelly and brain to mush.

“Since when do you ask?” You have a point.

“You’re right,” his grin is almost lazy, drawing over his mouth in a measured crawl. “Good girls just do what they’re told, right?” His grips tightens almost imperceptibly, holding you to him almost effortlessly. You’ve been in this position a hundred times before but it’s never been this easy - like breathing.

The gasp you offer is all mock affront, hand laid palm-down across your chest. You don’t miss the way his gaze follows it before ticking lower, unabashed in its admiration. “Are you saying I’m not?”

“Don’t know, baby.” The war on your neck has resumed, teeth traded seamlessly for the softer promise of his tongue, the dry brush of his lips. It’s almost sinful, garnering sighs of affection and need from somewhere low in your throat. “Want to be a good girl for me?”

You’re not quite used to this version of him - playful and needy and not nearly as demanding as usual. A part of you wants to draw out the side of him you know is there, hidden just beneath the surface; the other wants to bask in this, all feather soft and cotton candy sweet.

“Always,” you return, with a coquettish smile and fluttering lashes.

“Always,” he murmurs, tasting it for the first time. He sounds almost giddy when he repeats it once, then twice, then a third time for good measure. You think it’ll come again, laughter rolling off your tongue as you stare into the eyes of the boy you love. Instead, he speaks in a voice full of gravel and grit, all traces of your sunshine boy suddenly swallowed whole by the darks of his pupils. “Fuck - I can’t wait to have you.”

“Then what’re you waiting for?” You don’t need to push him. You like to do it anyway. It feels right .

“You’re the worst.” What Jungkook means is you’re the best and I love you and I’m going to fuck you six ways into next week . What he means is this is the scariest thing he’s ever done but it’s all right because he has you. What he means is thank you - and how he shows it is through worship.

On the way to the bedroom, he crowds every inch of you, holding you so closely you wonder if he’s trying to carve himself into your bones. He’s firm and unrelenting, balancing you against his chest as he smothers every available inch of your shoulders in sweet, sloppy kisses. He revels in the way you cling to him like you’ve never needed anything else.

In his bed, he lays you out and strips you bare. He offers devotion with every pass of his fingers, every trail of his tongue. He wants you so badly it’s hard to focus on giving you everything you deserve, but he tries anyway. He sucks love into your neck and over your breasts, pinching your nipples between his fingers until you’re panting and he’s aching for the same treatment.

On his knees, he prays at the altar of your body, taking his time to map the constellations on your skin, the memories written into each scar and dot. His tongue follows the raised flesh that sits across your hip - an unfortunate mishap from a schoolyard dare. You whine and he nearly cries, soothing over the sensitive spot with hands and lips and tenderness. He lays kisses on each freckle, each irregular mark. From your navel to your knee and everywhere in between, he caresses and comforts, turning those blemishes into stars.

He also teases - subtly, quietly, with wandering hands and focused breaths. You don’t realise it until it’s too late, your insides molten, your pulse a thunderclap in your ears.

“Jungkook.” It sounds more like begging than anything. Exactly what he wants.

“What’s up, princess?” Spoken so casually, as if he isn’t between your legs, long fingers tracing through the slick that coats your thighs. He gazes up from behind too long strands, all wide-eyed and terribly sweet - until he pops a digit into his mouth, hollowing his cheeks around the taste of you. “Something wrong?”

“Stop teasing.” You hear yourself whine but it doesn’t quite sound like you, higher pitched and needier than you’ve ever been.

“I thought you were going to be good for me,” he returns with a tut and a push of that same finger deep into your cunt. He flexes it experimentally, beaming up at you when you clench around the intrusion that’s too much and not even close to being enough all at once. “You’re so wet, baby. I just slide right in.”

As if to drive his point home, he drives another finger in, scissoring them languidly to stretch you open. It’s such a pretty sight, messy and inviting. He can’t resist a taste, dragging the flat of his tongue over and around the fingers that continue to fuck into you at a faster pace.

“ Jungkook! ” You’re shrieking, bucking against the onslaught of sensations. A shapely arm immediately cages you against the bed, palm splayed across your hips.

“Stay still.” It’s a growl, teeth bared against the sensitive pearl between your legs. Words are punctuated with the softest pressure - a silent threat that goes no further. You wonder what he’ll do if he has to repeat himself. “Good girls listen, remember?”

You’re fumbling across his shoulders, nails digging crescents everywhere you can reach. You need him so badly it hurts . “Please.”

“Please what?” That patented, stupid smirk cradles his mouth, tongue peeking out as he stares at you expectantly. “If you’re going to be so demanding, at least use your words.” He watches the way your eyes roll back into your head when he slots another finger in with the others and curls them against that particular spot that has you seeing stars. The bastard has the audacity to coo at you. “What’s wrong, baby? Can’t speak?”

You’re near wailing, gasping and whining around words that sound like his name. Angry red lines sprout across his shoulders, his arms - demands carved into flesh.

He makes a sound, wistful and resigned. You think - try to think, beyond the pleasure that’s building steadily in the pit of your stomach - that he’s finally going to give you what you need. You’re almost crying for it, moisture crowding your lashes and threatening to spill over.

Then he withdraws, all at once.

You could scream. In fact, you do, red in the face and chest heaving. “I hate you!”

“No.” He’s upon you in an instant, insistent and terribly smug. There’s a playground in his smile, childish laughter spilling into the spaces between you. “You actually love me.” He noses at your neck, the heat of his palm searing against your side as he sighs almost dreamily. “Say it again.”

You answer him with something more than love - frustration and annoyance and so much devotion you can’t keep it out no matter how hard you try. “No.”

It’s a challenge more than anything. He knows it; you know it.

He accepts it readily, just as you expect him to.

“Say it.” Enamel presses steady, heavy, into the sensitive spot right beneath your ear. He mouths over the skin that blows out red and inviting beneath his ministrations, the firm press of his fingers gripping you without hesitation. You can feel the entire weight of him against you, length nestled comfortably against your core. He repeats himself as he rocks against you, dragging the swollen, leaking head of his cock through your folds with an agonising slowness that has you clenching around nothing. “Come on, baby.”

You’re keening, adjusting your hips and grinding against him. You still won’t say it, hoping to find a rhythm in the quiet that’s punctuated by your laboured breaths and his occasional laughter.

“Just say it and I’ll give you what you want. I’ll give you everything. Promise, sweetheart.”

Framed against the late morning sun, hair spilling across his forehead in curls of india ink, he’s so handsome your heart leaps into your throat. “I love you.” It’s a wet confession, carried by a wave of emotion you don’t expect.

“I love you,” he echoes, sinking into you so gradually you feel like you’re caught in slow motion, all of your focus balanced on the tip of a needle.

It’s never been like this before. Each inch is a delicious stretch, filling you and claiming you. The drag is incredible, your walls fluttering around the intrusion and aching for more. You bite back a sob, digging into the wide expanse of his back with your nails as your mouth seeks purchase anywhere it can - over his jaw, up his neck, across his shoulders. He soothes you as he presses deeper, reassurances whispered against your temple.

“I’ve got you, baby. Let me make you feel good.” When he bottoms out, you demand more - somehow, somehow - locking your ankles against the small of his waist. He doesn’t miss the way you clench, so tight around him it almost hurts , when he says those three words once again. “I love you.”

His lips find yours and he brushes them over and over - a salve for the burn he ignites beneath your skin. It doesn’t matter that he’s both the calm and the chaos. Jungkook’s always been everything to you.

The rhythm he sets is unhurried and perfect. Each snap of his hips has his cock dragging against your walls, filling and stretching you so well; everywhere his skin brushes yours, you’re alive. There are a million nerve endings going haywire beneath your skin, flashing bright as holiday lights.

That’s what it’s like - Christmas morning . Picture perfect and filled with wonder.

He’s completely smitten when he draws back just enough to see the entirety of you - your fucked-out expression, the rose-wreath he’s wrought around your neck, the sweat that beads between your tits and tempts him to duck his head. “I love you.” It’s almost hypnotising - watching you take him, pussy dripping and needy around his cock.

“I love you,” you parrot back - or try to. It’s not very coherent, driven to a point of nonsense when his hips begin to stutter and he makes up for the loss of rhythm by slipping his fingers over your clit in circle eights.

You’re at your breaking point. He knows - can read you like the back of his hand - and holds you there, back bowing to kiss you breathless, pressure unrelenting against the bundle of nerves.

“That’s it, princess. Right there.”

The coil snaps at the third pass and there are hot tears streaming down your cheeks, his name spilling off your tongue in tandem with the erratic thudding of your heart. White spots your vision, entire body electrified as you crash headlong into an abyss of bliss. You hear him join you with a hoarse whine, a mix of your cum slipping out of you as he rides out his own high with shallow thrusts, mouth open and panting against your shoulder.

The comedown is hazy, dusted in exhaustion and a thin sheen of sweat. When he slips from you, he doesn’t go far, tugging you comfortably against his side like you’re not both a little gross. It’s not the first time you’ve fucked but it feels different.

“I love you, baby.”

“I love you, Bunny.”

You realise - it feels exactly like that. Making love.

611 notes · View notes

patchofsunlight · 3 years

Text

Stand You | Bakugou Katsuki x Fem!Reader

SUMMARY: Bakugou insists he can’t stand stupid Y/N, even while he changes his entire routine to fit her in it.

WORD COUNT: 5.1k

WARNINGS: if this doesn’t show up on tags for the fifth time i will simply give up on it, cursing, bakugou is a lil bitch but he’s also a softie, there’s a nosebleed at one point but nothing concerning tbh, aizawa and recovery girl find young love amusing, shouto is baby

Y/N wasn’t sure of exactly when she started thinking of Bakugou Katsuki as a friend. Maybe it had been during their first year, after the first time he allowed her to join his study group alongside Kirishima, Kaminari, Sero, and Mina; or maybe it had been a bit later, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

She was deeply aware of the fact he tolerated her at best, as he made that abundantly clear every chance he got. He didn’t exactly hate her presence, but she was on thin fucking ice, and, even though Y/N knew this, she still managed to somehow develop a crush on the angry ash blond, like the stupid idiot she was.

It was ridiculous, to be honest, especially considering how there was no way he would ever feel the same. She would go as far as saying he didn’t even know her name — “Stupid,” he called her (how enchanting!) —, so, yeah, there was absolutely no possibility of her feelings being reciprocated in any way, and the dumb hug they shared was nothing but a coincidence. He was a bit shaken, a bit shocked, and those few warm minutes didn’t really mean anything.

Y/N didn’t mind. She was okay being Bakugou’s friend, satisfied with study group meetings and the occasional sparring. That way, at least, she could be sort of close to him, and that was pretty much enough.

Katsuki wasn’t sure of exactly when he had stopped thinking of Y/N L/N as another stupid extra. Maybe it had been when he found himself walking a little slower while she accompanied him towards class, or maybe it had been a bit earlier, when she hugged him tight in the middle of a crowd, almost as if she could squeeze the pain being kidnapped by the League of Villains had brought him, and he let her — while All Might fought his last battle and all of Japan feared for its future, Bakugou let her hold him.

He didn’t particularly like her. She talked too much, too fast, too loud; she insisted on walking him to and from the dorms everyday; and she was weak, stupid, useless. To be completely fair, Bakugou would say he despised her.

And yet, he found himself around her way more often than necessary.

“Hey, Bakugou, wait up! Let’s walk together!”

He groaned loudly at the sound of her voice, having been hopelessly hoping she wouldn’t be able to catch up.

“Fuck, no. Get out of my way, Stupid!”

He slowed down nonetheless, soon walking by her side. Her smile was bright and excited as she kept on blabbering about something Kirishima had done when they were paired up on training that day.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“— and then he threw me off the training mat so easily! Who taught him how to do that? I wanna do that!”

“I don’t give a fuck, Stupid.”

“— but I won the second time we sparred, so I guess we’re even. It was fun.”

Y/N never seemed bothered by his harsh words. In fact, she usually either ignored them altogether, unfaltering and patient, or laughed and added some opinion of her own to his rage. It was maddening — she couldn’t take a hint.

Moments like this were common, almost routine. If Bakugou didn’t know better, he would’ve thought the girl had taken quite a liking to him. It was an obvious conclusion, considering she was always around him in some way or another, trying to spark up friendly conversation and letting him know how her day went.

(It was so, so calming to have her here like this. He would never admit it, but hearing Y/N’s endless rants brought him a sense of security he had never really felt before. She talked too much, that was for sure, yet he didn’t really care. It was okay if it was her.)

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

“Come on, try again. We’ve gone through this already.”

“I can’t, Bakugou. I—I’m sorry.”

The ash blond sighed, running a hand through his hair. The bite to his tone had disappeared after a couple of hours, red gaze intensely attentive to the frustrated tears gathering in the girl’s eyes. Every other student had gone back to their dorms, and the librarian seemed very intent on shooting the duo angry looks as if to tell them to hurry up and leave already, finally allowing their long afternoon shift to end.

“Yes, you can. I know you can. Try again, you’re almost fucking there.”

Katsuki had never been good at positive reinforcement. He was better at screaming and cursing and insulting, and, yes, he had tried that with Y/N a thousand times before, but he could see how hard she was trying. He noticed how disappointed and tired she was, and he couldn’t find it in himself to be anything less than what he recognized as incredibly soft. He was glad they were the only ones in the library — he wouldn’t know how to explain himself if anyone saw him like this, watching this random girl who he refused to call a friend mess up her homework in various different ways, talking quietly to stop her from crying.

“We don’t have all fucking day, Stupid. You can do this, go on.”

Yeah, definitely not good at positive reinforcement.

“Okay,” she inhaled deeply, pencil moving slowly through the paper, her eyebrows furrowed in concentration.

There was a slight crease between her brows as she worked, and Bakugou felt the sudden urge to rub it away, which he rejected immediately. That was ridiculous! There was no reason for things like this to plague his mind — L/N Y/N was an idiot, and he didn’t deliberately think about her in any way, form, or universe. She wasn’t worthy of his thoughts.

“Is this it?”

His attention immediately returned to the equations and messy notes on her notebook while he looked it over, a surprised glint taking his eyes.

“Yeah, that’s basically it. It could be better, but you got it right.”

“I did?”

“You did. I told you you could do it, Stupid.”

Katsuki choked on his own air when the girl jumped towards his place on the table, hugging him tightly by the neck while spouting a great variety of thank you’s and praise, disrupting the angry librarian. Bakugou could feel his cheeks heat up under the worker’s glare, both with irritation born from their silent attitude and from the weird warmth growing in his chest at Y/N’s attention.

It was the first time she hugged him since the kidnapping accident, and it felt different. It wasn’t a comfort hug like last time, no — it was almost like she had been so happy she couldn’t stop herself from touching him, and that thought alone was enough to send sirens flaring inside his head. Every single inch where her skin touched his seemed to tingle, a calming sensation flowing through his body.

He instantly decided he hated the feeling, pushing her off harshly but still a tad more carefully than he would’ve if it was anyone else.

“Yeah, yeah, yeah, no need to freak out. Let’s just get done with this already and go back to the dorms.”

She smiled widely as she picked her things up, shoving them inside her backpack and patiently waiting for him to do the same. Strangely, the explosion boy couldn’t find it in himself to meet her eyes, avoiding the light blush he feared would coat his features when he saw her staring at him like that, with that pretty — no, not pretty, no, he didn’t think she was pretty in anyway — with that stupid smile on her face.

“I’m glad we can walk back together,” the girl declared cheerfully the moment they left the big and lonely library, strolling through the empty path side by side, the sun nowhere to be seen. “It’s late already.”

“Whatever,” he groaned back, refusing to look at her yet still maintaining a pace he was sure she could keep up with.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Bakugou felt hyper-aware of every movement beside him. For a few days now, his heart would pump a bit faster whenever she smiled, and his skin would crawl with what he could only describe as the craving to have her hold him again.

It made him weak, and he wouldn’t have it. Bakugou Katsuki was a lot of things, but he refused to be weak.

Specially because of someone like Stupid.

“What grade did you guys get on last week’s math test?”

They always sat next to each other during lunch. It wouldn’t be that bad if it wasn’t for how her knee touched his ever so softly, her body too close for comfort because of Kaminari’s presence on her other side, pressing onto her enthusiastically each time he spoke. Kirishima had asked her once if she wanted him to exchange places with the electric boy, but she simply laughed it off — Kaminari’s manners were endearing, in a way. For some reason, those words gave Katsuki the urge to break Kaminari’s nose.

“I got an 87,” Y/N declared, delight dripping from her words while she played with the food on her plate.

“Y/N!” Mina’s smile was so big it almost didn’t fit on her face. “That’s almost 30 marks higher than you got on our last test!”

“I know!” Bakugou scowled at her excitement before she turned her head to look at him, a sunny grin directed entirely to him, stealing all the air from his lungs. “Bakugou is an amazing tutor!”

“Damn right I am,” he managed to rasp out, clearing his throat loudly before shoving a bunch of spicy noodles in his mouth. Kirishima and Sero exchanged a look.

He would never admit it, the raw pride that consumed his chest at her happiness. He knew how hard she had worked for that test, and was glad to see it went even better than she expected.

“Maybe now you could tutor me, Y/N,” Kaminari wiggled his eyebrows suggestively, causing a laugh to escape the girl’s lips while she turned away from Katsuki to stare at him.

“I would love to, but I’m pretty sure I would make your grades even worse.”

“Hey,” Bakugou barked angrily, fighting off the blush creeping up his ears, “don’t sell yourself short, Stupid. You’re not that much of a dumbass.”

A heavy silence fell down on the group, surprised stares pointed to the ash blond. He could feel his stomach twist in anger at the unwanted attention, yet something about the way her smile widened at his words caused his irritation to decrease exponentially.

“What are you idiots staring at?” he lashed out despite the calm settling inside his heart at the sight of her, rolling his eyes at the bunch of morons he called his friends.

“No, nothing,” Kaminari’s voice was high-pitched in obvious lying that brought out snickers from everyone else on the table but Bakugou himself. “Nothing.”

“It better be nothing, Dunce Face, or I’ll kill you.”

“Of course,” Kirishima bit down on his lip to contain his laughter, “don’t worry about it, Bakubro.”

The day went by slowly and way more often than not Bakugou found himself stealing glances towards where he knew Y/N’s seat was. There was a weird whispering in the back of his head, reminding him of how her arms felt around him when they hugged in the library the week before, reminding him of the warmth that invaded his skin and implanted itself in his brain, reminding him of how bright her smiles were and how nice her laughter sounded.

Oh, there was something wrong. Did she have some sort of secondary quirk guilty of making him feel like this? Never before had he ever given her much thought, even though he had to admit his mind wandered to her sometimes and he did try to somehow be nicer to her, but it wasn’t because he cared for her or anything, right? Of course not! He just thought she wouldn’t be able to take his usual self and he didn’t want to deal with her crying or whatever. It wasn’t because he cared about what she thought of him, hell no! Bakugou didn’t waste his time worrying about others, that wasn’t like him at all.

Bakugou Katsuki didn’t think about L/N Y/N, he didn’t, he wouldn’t.

The ash blond forced his gaze away from her once more, trying to make sense of what should’ve been neat notes instead of the mess of scribbles staring right back at him. He snarled to himself, immediately considering his disorganization as entirely her fault. How dare she play with him like this? How dare she think herself worthy of his time like this?

He couldn’t stand her.

And yet, less than two hours later, there he was, listening to her rant about this one movie she desperately wanted to watch while they walked beside each other after class. It would be so easy for Bakugou to pick up his pace and leave her alone, but his body refused to obey his mind’s wishes, and so he kept himself slow enough for her to stay with him.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

His whole body was sore, barely able to move his arms after overusing his quirk all evening. Bakugou knew he shouldn’t push himself this hard, but he refused to falter, refused to stay behind and risk being weak again. He needed to get stronger, smarter, and, for better or for worse, that involved long training hours.

The path back to the dorms was strangely lonely without a certain girl keeping him company — not that Katsuki minded, he obviously didn’t. Some loneliness was very much appreciated after the last couple of weeks, which were filled with study group sessions and stupid walks.

He sighed heavily when the 2-A dorm finally came into his range of vision, causing his tired figure to relax. He was almost there — he would soon be able to eat something, take a nice shower, and then fall straight into bed. He would soon be able to rest, and that was the only thing in his mind.

The ash blond kicked his shoes away the moment he reached the door, tossing them aside without a second thought.

He would’ve liked to say he bee-lined to the kitchen.

He didn’t.

“Stupid, what the fuck are you doing?”

Y/N looked up from the common room coffee table, startled by the sudden interruption. She studied him for a second before answering, “I’m just looking over some homework. Why? Did something happen?”

He grunted in distaste, unable to stop himself from sitting down next to her on the couch. Every single one of his muscles felt like it was on fire from overexertion.

“It’s fucking late. Didn’t we study yesterday? Did you even have dinner yet?”

She tensed slightly at his angry questions, returning her stare towards the papers in front of them. “Yeah, but I just thought it’d be good to go over everything once more. I’ll just eat some crackers for dinner, it’s fine,” she shrugged nonchalantly, missing the way his eyebrows furrowed at her words, “where were you anyway?”

Katsuki simply rolled his eyes, arms crossed. “It’s none of your fucking business, Stupid. And you can’t have crackers for dinner, that’s not a proper meal.”

“What are you gonna do about it, Bakugou? Will you cook me dinner?” Her tone was teasing, joking, but he stood up immediately, snatching all the papers and notes from her and walking to the kitchen without a second of hesitation. “Hey, what the fuck!”

“Come with me already, you dumbass,” he snarled angrily, a tint of red covering his cheeks, “what do you want to eat?”

Her voice suddenly went soft, “Bakugou, I was kidding. You don’t need to get me dinner, I can just heat up some ramen or—”

“Shut the fuck up, Stupid. I was already going to cook dinner for myself anyway.”

He wasn’t, actually. He planned on eating leftovers from lunch, but he knew there wouldn’t be enough leftovers for both of them, and it was good to prepare some lunch for the next day, anyway. It wasn’t like he was doing it for her, of course not! It was just… Mutually beneficial. Yeah, it was mutually beneficial, not—not special treatment. He didn’t care about Stupid, he didn’t.

“Can I help with anything?” she asked nervously, face flushed from bashfulness and hands fidgety. Katsuki shook his head, ignoring the twitching pain on his forearms as he stirred the pot.

“Just sit down and wait.”

“Are you sure?” Y/N bit her lower lip with furrowed brows. “You seem tired, I don’t want you to do everything by yourself.”

An angry remark sat on the top of his tongue, but the ash blond hesitated. Well, if she helped with the simpler things this would be done faster, and he could go back to his room and rest earlier. Besides, the idea of cooking and spending time with Y/N in the kitchen caused some type of warmth to take over his chest — a warmth that wasn’t exactly insufferable.

It felt strangely soothing, hearing her hum while slicing vegetables and waiting for the noodles to cook through. It felt even more strangely soothing to sit before her on the kitchen table, staring anxiously while she took the first bite of his food. The worst, however, was the way her smile brightened up the room when she started rambling about how good it tasted and how much of a good cook he was and how he now had to cook for her more often. He disagreed loudly, the tip of his ears burning with embarrassment, saying he didn’t cook for her — he cooked for him, and she just happened to be there too. She cackled, and his heart seemed to burn.

He couldn’t fucking stand her.

Seventeen minutes. Y/N was seventeen minutes late.

Had she forgotten about it? God, she was the one who brought it up in the first place, and now she was the one making him wait. Katsuki felt incredibly stupid sitting in his dorm floor, a bunch of her favorite snacks neatly organized next to the nightstand and pillows on the ground for them to sit on. It was supposed to be a study date or whatever, even though he repeatedly refused to call it that (“it’s not a date, Stupid, it’s just one of our homework sessions like always!”).

They had been spending a lot of time together between studying at the library, walking to the dorms, and cooking and eating dinner, and Bakugou had to admit he didn’t absolutely hate it. Don’t get him wrong, Y/N was still annoying and stupid and insufferable but—but something about her made him come back every single time, ignoring the knowing looks from his friends and the snickers from his classmates.

Despite his anger, a bit of worry started to blossom inside the boy’s chest. Stupid Y/N (and he hated how affectionate the mean nickname sounded to himself at this point) was rarely late — he had been seeing her after school hours enough to know. The girl was always on time and, when she wasn’t, she made sure to let others know why.

There was no text from her, though, and it made his fingers twitch uncomfortably with the urge to make a phone call and check if everything was alright.

Not that he cared if she was alright or not, because he didn’t. She was just—just some girl who decided to invade his life with no permission whatsoever and then stayed. He didn’t care about her.

And yet—

“Hello?”

“IcyHot? What are you doing with Y/N’s phone? Where the fuck is she?”

Bakugou couldn’t muster any reason for why Todoroki would’ve been the one to pick up the call instead of her. They weren’t even friends! Yes, they knew each other and he was vaguely aware of the fact the two had sparring sessions every once in a while, but not enough so for Todoroki to feel comfortable using her phone or for Y/N to bail on their study date.

“Oh, Bakugou,” Shouto’s tone was as casual as always, almost as if this was a common occurrence (which it wasn’t), “hey. Y/N is with Recovery Girl right now. She got into a fight, but she is okay, just a few cuts and bruises. I was the one to stop the fight, so Aizawa asked me to wait around while she gets checked up on. Do you want me to tell her anything?”

Bakugou had been out the door when he heard the words “Recovery Girl”, speed walking to the nurse’s office while Todoroki rambled. He could feel his heart picking up its pace. Why would Y/N get into a fight? God, this wasn’t like her, and the prospect of someone purposely picking a fight with her filled him with the most raw type of anger possible.

“What the fuck did she get into a fight for?” he voiced his concerns, and he was pretty sure Todoroki just shrugged.

“These two boys were saying things about—”

“Todoroki? Who are you talking to?”

“Miss L/N, I’m still not done with you—”

Katsuki furrowed his brows at the commotion heard from the other end. He could easily recognize her voice, even though it sounded raspy and tired, but the next bit of conversation was too muffled for him to understand. The future hero could already see Recovery Girl’s office a few meters away, and it made him walk a bit faster.

“Give me the phone, Todoroki.”

“Miss L/N, you are still bleeding—”

The door opened violently. Y/N met Bakugou’s glare and felt a bad shiver go down her spine.

Shit, they were supposed to have that study date today. God, did he come all the way over there just to scold her?

Heavy silence fell over the small group of people. Aizawa and Recovery Girl exchanged a quick look, the small lady’s arm still extended towards the girl in a failed attempt to grab her and drag her back to the hospital bed, even though she was definitely not as hurt as they made her out to be. Yes, she had a bunch of nasty bruises after throwing hands with two random guys from the year above her, and, yes, her nose hadn’t stopped bleeding yet, but she was mainly okay. Todoroki had gotten there pretty quickly and stopped her from making things worse, so she was fine.

“What the fuck did you do, Stupid?”

Yeah, he definitely went all the way there to scold her.

“Uh. Now, that’s a good question!” She consciously chose to ignore the smirk on Aizawa’s face, pulling her phone from Todoroki’s grip a bit more violently than necessary. “You see, I’m sorry for my tardiness, I know we had plans, we still can—”

“I asked you what the fuck you did, Stupid. I’m waiting for my answer.”

“Miss L/N picked a fight with two third years after hearing them talk about one of her colleagues in public. Thankfully, Mr. Todoroki intervened,” their teacher cut in, crossing his arms and staring as the girl cleaned up a stray drop of blood on her lips with the back of her hand. “She’ll be getting a written warning and will hopefully stay out of trouble.”

“Yes, sir,” she muttered, frowning when Recovery Girl started fussing over her again, sticking band-aids all over the small cuts on her face. Y/N had refused to accept Recovery Girl’s quirk treatment, aware that she was very busy and that it wasn’t necessary for the school nurse to tire herself out for just a few bruises. She was so intent on glaring at her elders that she didn’t notice the worry swimming in Bakugou’s red gaze.

“Good. Can you two get her back to the dorms?”

“Yes, I—”

“Fuck off, IcyHot, I’m taking her back by myself. Find something to freeze or whatever.”

Katsuki grabbed her by the arm, dragging her out of Recovery Girl’s office without a second’s worth of hesitation. He wouldn’t even look at her, fuming the whole way to the dorms. Still, he walked slow enough for her to not struggle to keep up.

“Are you mad?”

He snickered humorlessly, “of course I am, Stupid. How the fuck did you get yourself into this? And you fucking left me waiting, too, you idiot.”

Usually, Y/N didn’t care about his harsh words. Y/N didn’t mind his angry remarks. This time, however, she felt tired, and she had just gotten into a fight because of him, so she refused to take it. She had tried so hard to get close to him, to make him like her. The girl could feel tears gathering in her eyes from fury and sadness — how stupid was she to actually believe he would ever like her, be it as a friend or more? She should’ve known better. Dinner and studying and walking together meant nothing to him. She was just a bother, and she should’ve noticed earlier.

Y/N halted, pulling her arm away from his hand with rage and deception coating her every feature, “shut the fuck up, Bakugou. I don’t have to give you any explanations, you piece of shit. If you’re so pissed about it, why don’t you just leave me alone, huh? I’m done keeping up with your bullshit. I always try to be a good friend to you and you just keep doing this! You keep pushing me away and treating me like an idiot, and I deserve more than that!”

The explosion boy had a crease on his forehead, a cold feeling going through his body. The angry look in her eyes was something he didn’t recognize, and suddenly she felt so unreachable, so far away. He quickly decided he hated it.

Why did he hate it, though? They had nothing to do with each other. They were barely friends. Wasn’t this what he wanted? He couldn’t fucking stand her, he didn’t care about her. This was what he had wanted for months now — for her to tell him to leave, for her to not stand him too. Why did it feel so wrong, then? Why did he feel the urge to collect her in his arms like she loved to do with him? Why did he just want to hold her and tell her he was worried and that he couldn’t wait to spend more time with her, that he couldn’t wait for their stupid study date? And, yeah, it could be a date if she wanted it to. God, he’d accept any name or title she gave their meetings if only they could go on forever.

How long had this been going on? When did she make him so attached to her? Why hadn’t he noticed it before?

“Fuck you, Bakugou,” she muttered, slightly out of breath after her short outburst, face dark with frustration, “those idiots were talking about you and about how you should be a villain or whatever, and I got mad. That’s how I fucking got myself into this, because I care about you. Thanks for caring, asshole.”

The girl turned to walk away, and panic bloomed in the boy’s chest. He didn’t know why exactly, but he knew he couldn’t let her leave. He couldn’t let her leave him, couldn’t let her think he didn’t care, because he was just now seeing he did — so, so much. Of course he cared about her and all her silly manners that made their way into his heart and stayed there, on the edge of conditioning him to feel better whenever she was around. Of course he cared about her and the study dates and the sparring sessions and all the stories she loved to tell, of course he fucking did. Of course.

Katsuki was quick to grab her arm again, pulling her so close to him their chests bumped. Y/N furrowed her brows in confusion.

“Bakugou, what the fuck are you—”

“I like you. I really—I really do,” he shook his head, trying to gather his own feelings. “A lot. I was worried. I’m sorry.”

Y/N blinked.

“You were worried? About me?”

“Yes,” he scratched the back of his neck, looking away to hide his blushed cheeks, which didn’t go unnoticed by her attentive eyes. A smile played on the corners of her mouth, and Y/N let herself enjoy the rapid bumping of her heart, the flustered sight of the one boy she had fallen for. Flustered because of her. She could feel a rush of confidence building inside her chest. “I guess… I guess I care about you, too. Even if you’re absolutely insufferable,” he added clumsily, causing her smile to widen considerably, “I can’t fucking stand you, to be honest. You annoy me to no end.”

“Now do I?” she took a step closer, so close that he could feel her breath on his face and it made his head spin. “You don’t seem very annoyed to me, Bakugou.”

“Katsuki,” he corrected thoughtlessly, feeling his face warm up even more when he took notice of his own words.

“Right,” Y/N nodded, smirk on her face, “Katsuki, then.”

He opened his mouth to make a mean remark that would push her away enough to give him space to breathe, but he was suddenly interrupted by her lips on his. Before he could register it, she was gone, speed walking back to the dorms. After a few shocked seconds, he started running after her, calling her name angrily and trying to conceal the dark red on his face, neck, and ears.

“Hey, come back here, Stupid! What the fuck was that?”

Bakugou couldn’t have ignored the way his heart fluttered at the sound of her laugh even if he tried, a lazy smile taking over his lips immediately.

“I can’t stand you either, Katsuki.”

“Oh, shut up.”

#bakugou katsuki x reader #bakugou #bakugou x reader #bnha x reader #bnha #bakugou katsuki #mha x reader #mha

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willowistic22 · 3 years

Text

Red (Redfinch)

Despite their breakup, Albert still wanted to go see Finch perform in one of his concerts when Race asked him if he wanted to come. This is the perfect chance for them to talk things out again but words aren’t cooperating for either of them. With that, Finch decides to triy a different form of communication.

Words : 5233

Part : -

Warnings : Alcohol, cursing, cigarettes, angst in general

A/N : Woah that’s a crazy word count uhh,,,, hi i’m back with another fic. Another redfinch and for that we stan lol (well idk maybe yall are annoyed by all these redfinch fics but yknow what? i’m thriving off of it) But fr I’ll eventually get into writing other ships but for now have one more redfinch combined with another tswift songs (as you do) this time with Red. Wow we are so surprised who would have thought of redfinch being associated with the song red no we aren’t surprise :D This one specifically exists in my bandsies au. you don’t need to read that first to understand this (i think?) but it wouldn’t hurt if you checked that out as well:) Tbh i can’t decide whether i love it or hate it but at least i like it enough to post it. N ee wayysss enjoy!!

His brain is screaming about how much Albert shouldn’t be doing this. Comprising a list of cons that goes on forever. And although he thinks all of the cons his brain had written is logical, that one pro his heart wrote beside the long list was all it took for Al to say yes. All the cons will be worth suffering through if he finally gets to see Finch again. And maybe it’s for the better since he’s not doing well by distancing himself from the boy.

Unfortunately, the world isn’t black and white. Meaning that even if he did choose to follow what his heart wants, all the horrible feelings will still be there. And with every step he takes, inching closer to the entrance of the building, he’s getting even more terrified by the second. Thankfully, the line for the entrance is going pretty slow which gives time for Albert to calm down.

But it’s not helping. The line is crowded and full of fans, talking excitedly about the band’s awaiting concert inside. For some odd reason, he can only hear the conversations between fans that contain one specific name. He doesn’t hear anyone mentioning Romeo, Elmer, or Jojo’s name. Not even Crutchie, who he’s been told to be the fans’ favorite. Just the name Finch, being repeated all around him. With adoration and excitement lacing the name. The line is delaying the inevitable and the people around him makes him a bit overwhelmed.

“We can still turn around if you want. I’m sure they’ll find a way to give us a refund”

If he’s actually being honest, it was his best friend that got him to come. Race returned to their shared apartment a few weeks ago and rushed to ask Albert if he wanted to go see their friends performing tonight. Race knows about Al and Finch’s break up but it’s worth asking him first. And to his surprise, he said yes.

“No, it’s fine” Albert replied, “I’m fine”

“You’re picking your pimples right now”

“So?”

“It’s one of your nervous habits”

That piece of information really caught Al off guard. He didn’t think a tiny random fact about himself would actually corner him the way Race is doing now. Eyeing Albert through his glasses and raising his eyebrows despite his forehead being mostly covered by his beanie.

“Well… I-” Albert tried to come up with bullshit as fast as he could, “I like to do it on purpose too, alright?! My fingers just... get a little itchy!”

He slowly puts his hands down from previously reaching up to pick his face. And the line is still going slow, one step at a time. It’s not doing any favors for Al.

“Dude, it’s alright if you’re not ready to see him” Race continued, “It takes time, I get it”

“Race, I’ll be fine! How many more times do I have to tell you?” Albert argued, which finally made Race back down. And to make sure it’s no longer gonna be brought up, Al changes the subject, “By the way, where’s Specs and Mike? You said they’re watching too”

“They’re already backstage with the others for... obvious reasons” Race answered casually, catching on to Albert's intentions to change the subject. “So is Kath, by the way. We’ll meet her in there though”

To that, Albert simply nods. His jittery movements turn into rocking his body on the ball of his feet while digging his lips with his teeth. Race tries to pretend he doesn’t notice, but he does. Albert knows he does. Although he’s glad he’s not bringing it up because it might make it worse.

He’d be lucky to know that he’s not the only one panicking over this. In the dressing room, an aggravated Finch throws his phone to the cushion of the couch after sending the last text to his friend Race. It sounds unlawful for Race to be ‘secretly updating’ Finch on how Albert is actually doing because it’s obviously something Albert doesn’t want to directly tell his ex.

Finch groans, placing his elbow on his armchair to support his head. The room is spinning in his view and he wishes it all to stop. Taking deep and long breaths to stabilize his shaky limbs. A little prayer starts playing in his heart, it follows the tempo of his fast heartbeat.

“He’s here, isn’t he?”

Finch opens his eyes and looks up to meet his bandmate sitting on the couch across from him. He hadn’t even been talking for a good hour because he’s too fixated with the first text Race sent him when he and Al first started making their way to the concert.

“Yeah, he’s in line” Finch replied, looking up to the blond boy who’s holding his bass.

“How are they not being mobbed?” Another voice rang. This time it’s not coming from one of Finch’s bandmates. It’s coming from Race and Albert’s bandmate, sitting next to the shortest member of Finch’s band on the couch.

Specs only ask that because their two bands have a long connecting history and their fanbase tends to be sort of the same in a way. With Specs dating Romeo and Mike dating Jojo, Race and Albert are bound to be recognized and mobbed by at least a few fans. Especially seeing that Albert is Finch’s former lover, although the fans know that as a rumor since the two never publicly addressed it.

“I’m assuming they’re wearing a lot of shit to cover their faces” Another answered, the other VIP of the show alongside Specs, Mike. He’s twirling his drink in his hand while the other keeps Jojo cuddled close to him, “I mean, Al’s head is really fucking bright!”

With the mention of that specific name, Finch sulks back in his armchair with a groan. He covers his face with his hands, hoping it’d make the world just stop for one second. He could hear a loud clean slap echoing the room, followed by overlaps of whispered scolding. If he had to guess, it was Mike who was the one getting slapped and scolded.

“This is a disaster…” Finch exclaimed to himself, still not lifting his face up.

“It doesn’t have to be unless you make it like that” this time a feminine voice spoke up. A voice he recognized to belong to Kath.

Finch hears footsteps approaching him. He feels the motion of someone softly kneeling down in front of him. His hands were gently pried open and he was met with Kath’s friendly smile.

“It takes time, but you gotta trust the process”

It’s not necessarily the words he needed to hear right now, but it still warms his heart to hear his friend still being there for him despite the sticky situation he has gotten them into.

Everything would’ve been just fine if Finch hadn’t been so pushy and upset over Albert’s decision. He was the one that decided to put his music career on hold to go get that engineering degree, which frankly seems pretty useless. Finch was so dirty for pulling the ‘you’re being selfish’ card at him when it’s not even his band at all. Race, Specs, Mike, Ike, and even their manager Denton were very supportive about his decision to get that degree. Heck, all their friends were! But not Finch. His boyfriend at the time. He argued like he secretly knew how the others felt about Al leaving when really there aren’t any secret feelings for him to know. All his arguments came from his own feelings.

However, he knows Albert’s ‘own decision’ was secretly coated by his father’s persuasive words. The whole ‘just in case the music career doesn’t work out’ argument was basically the copy and pasted words from his father. They both know it. Despite the arguments, it still seemed that Al was determined to fully focus on college anyways. Instead of following his fellow musician friends’ college path by getting a degree in the non-lecture-hall way, he followed his father’s words and actually attended his college classes in a proper campus.

In the moment, Finch was just too focused on Albert leaving. Maybe he was the one being selfish. He had only realize now that most of his arguments were because he didn’t want Albert to go. It’s too late now, since the last time they saw each other was when Al slammed the door of their apartment one last time with all his stuff and a plane ticket to Seattle. At that point, Finch was finally tired of all the arguing and told him that if this was his plan then he’s on his own.

The tears that came after were filled with sorrow and regret. Sorrowful because he missed him. Regretful because he only realized then that there was no valid reason for Finch to lash out in the first place other than for his own needs. The feeling is still present to this moment. And it’s currently the strongest right before a show because he knows he’s gonna be in the crowd.

“Look, we’ll let ya drown out your feelings with some booze later” Crutchie finally said, “But right now we got a show”

The band was all getting up from where they were seated, bringing whatever they needed to the stage. Crutchie gets some help from Jojo to bring his Bass till he properly sits on the stool on stage. But Finch stays perfectly still, holding Kath’s hand as if his life depends on it.

“I know I should talk to ‘im, Kath” Finch finally said, slowly joining the others in standing up. Kathrine follows along, eyes still fixed to her friend, “But… I can’t. I wouldn’t know what to say to him”

“Then don’t talk” Mike suddenly inserts himself in their little conversation. He gets up and approaches the two, “Sing him the new single”

“You’re fucking insane, Mike!” Katherine instantly snapped.

“Alright, your mouth will be legally sealed shut till the end of the concert” Specs joins them only to drag Mike away. There were some protests from the boy, but it was totally shut down by everyone else in the room.

“No, wait. He’s got a point” Finch suddenly exclaimed, which quickly got the whole room to freeze in time.

He looks at his bandmates, all standing by the doorway ready to kill the concert. A half confident smile appears on his face and he says, “Let’s sing that single”

The concert is held in a bar like-venue with multiple floors, slowly being filled to the brim by excited fans. Their excitement bounces off the walls of the venue, creating an ecstatic kind of environment despite the tight space. The concert is going to start any minute now and while the fans surrounding him are shaking in excitement, Albert is shaking in a nervous fit.

“Still okay there, Al?”

Albert looked to his side, seeing his good friend Kathrine looking up to meet his eyes with concern. She had just joined the boys in the midst of the crowd after hanging out behind the stage with the band.

“What? Yeah, I’m okay” He replied, “What makes you think I’m not?”

“You’re squeezing my hand a little too tight”

Al had only realized he’s been holding Kath’s hand just now. His brain was too focused on his fears about meeting Finch again to the point that he hasn’t been paying attention to his surroundings. He gets bashful all of a sudden, cheeks going a bit warm, harshly pulling away from her grasp.

“It’s okay, you can hold my hand if you want,” Katherine said gently.

“Kath, I’m fine!” Albert said, “Why won’t you and Race believe me?”

“Because we know it’s utter bullshit”

The pair looked back towards the crowd behind them where the familiar voice originated from. There, Race struggles through a sea of people with two drinks in hand. Oddly enough, he still seems to stand the heat despite still wearing his face disguise. A white cotton mask, black-framed glasses, and a grey beanie mostly providing cover for his blond curls. While Al, seeing that the venue is pretty dark and speculations has led him to believe that the fans would be focused on the concert rather than the people attending it, had already put away his mask. However, his fears still made him wear his snapback and grey-framed glasses just in case.

Albert takes his rightful drink, and with a free hand, Race takes off his own mask and stuffs it in his pockets. He complains about the stuffiness from wearing the mask all while doing so, which made Kath laugh. It appears the Albert-scolding has been forgotten for the time being, as Kath and Race starts engaging in their own conversation, which Al doesn’t mind because he’d much like to down his beer quickly.

And then the concert finally starts.

An exciting intro starts playing as the band enters the stage. The wild crowd welcoming the band is deafening to Albert’s ear. Time freezes and everything in between fades away. All he sees is Finch, up on stage wearing a smile brighter than the lighting of the venue itself. He’s using his old dark green guitar. The same one he uses when he’s writing songs in bed or when he just feels like strumming the strings. Albert remembers the memoirs of all the guitar string scars he had earned throughout the years of knowing him. Some of them were even caused by Albert himself.

Lucky that Finch hasn’t noticed Albert has been staring at him the whole time. He hasn’t taken his eyes off of the boy since the start of the first song, shimmering under the spotlight with amazing vocals. Laughing about at his fellow bandmates’ antics on stage. Oh, that laugh. It gives him butterflies in his stomach like it was the first time hearing it.

He can feel two pairs of familiar eyes on him. But he’s too far gone to care. Albert really did make a big mistake for letting Finch go that easy. Because at the end of his previous college days, he still loves him and misses him dearly. His little Finchy. It doesn’t matter to Al anymore if Race and Katherine are eyeing him with sorrow or the whole world were to look at him weirdly for fixating his own eyes towards the beautiful boy on stage. He was his beautiful boy. Good lord, does he long to see the days when he got to call Finch his.

“Holy shit, I fucked up” Albert muttered under his breath, only Kath and Race could hear it, “I should’ve never had left”

His friends were definitely not expecting Albert to verbally exclaim his regret. They already knew from the start despite the redhead’s previous denials. But hearing him say it just makes it all more real. Even Albert himself was hit by a truck of reality just by loudly announcing it.

“Well, now you know” Katherine started, gentle voice on the same volume as his own despite the volume of their current surroundings being incredibly loud, “Go tell him that after the show”

“I can’t. I shouldn’t” Albert replied, fully turning away from the stage to properly look at his friends. A glint of sorrow and desperation flashes before his face, “I might make things worse!”

“Well, you’ll never know till you try” Race said, sounding a little hesitant at the start. He offered a warm smile at his friend and a hand on his shoulder, since there isn’t much he could do in the moment.

With a heavy sigh, Albert turns back towards the stage only to witness the biggest surprise of his life. Finch looked back. Straight into Albert’s eyes, it pierced right through to get his heart thumping loudly in his ears. He just realized the song the band was previously playing had ended and they were waiting for the fans to quiet down. While Romeo playfully over-dramatize his thank you’s to the crowd and gets scolded by Elmer and Crutchie, Finch was continuously staring at Albert. The hands that were previously used to play with his guitar hang idly because his center of attention wasn’t at his instrument right now.

It might just be some form of hallucination Al retained from the high, but Finch seemed to be smiling at him a little. Just a little curve at the end of his lips while he’s still staring back.

Albert doesn’t know how to interpret this other than to just stare back. Deep down, his heart is flipping in all kinds of ways and his thought process is no longer comprehensible. He’s trying to read the other boy’s emotions but it’s too neutral to tell. Other than the fact that he’s smiling a little at him but that still doesn’t give him a proper answer.

Eventually Finch becomes the first one to look away, seeing that the audience had settled down for the band. Albert’s eyes were still glued to Finch, retaining his focus back to the concert. He opens his mouth for a moment to say something into his microphone, although he unexpectedly stopped. The flow of words seemed to cut short. He saved himself by pulling himself away from the microphone up front and towards the rest of his bandmates. Judging from the body language, they seem to be whispering.

“What’s happening?” Albert whispered, more to himself rather than to his friends.

“I’m not sure…” Race replied, taking a step closer to where Al is standing.

The band kept the discussion short and quickly got back to their places. Finch seems to hesitate the second time he opens his mouth to speak. But this time, he gets the words out.

“Uhh… sorry ‘bout that. I uhh… I just got the urge to go a bit out of our fixed setlist and uhh… hope you guys don’t mind” Finch explained with a little giggle at the end. The crowd couldn’t care less and cheered on. Finch smile widens at the agreement, “We thought we’d give ya an early access to our newest single that hasn’t been released yet”

A euphoric feeling passed through the crowd as the cheering got louder. It baffled Finch so much that he laughed into his mic.

“Oh my god, they’re actually doing it” Katherine commented under her breath.

But Al’s ears were sharp enough to catch it. He snaps his head around to face the girl behind him, “Do what?”

Katherine was rendered speechless to that question, despite obviously knowing what’s going on. Albert turns to Race but he has no idea. He finally turns back to the stage where Finch’s gaze was already waiting to be returned by Al himself.

Without breaking the gaze, Finch speaks into the mic with a little smile, “It’s called ‘Red’”

It was Albert’s turn to be speechless. He had no knowledge of a new single since he’s mostly been staying away from his ex’s social media for the sole purpose of moving on, which he had failed miserably. And none of his friends had told him anything about a single that’s title was a secret language only Finch and Albert share, littered with all sorts of vintage romance.

“Holy shit…” Race exclaimed, “...I had no idea they were gonna play this song”

The opening of the song starts with Jojo lightly plucking a few strings of his acoustic guitar. The crowd goes wild once again, energy bouncing off one wall to the other.

“Loving him is like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street

Faster than the wind, passionate as sin, ending so suddenly”

Crutchie sang the first line smoothly. At this point the other’s had joined in with their instrument. Finch fully ignoring the crowd and focused on looking at Al. Those blue eyes are trying to send a message to Albert and it’s being coded with the song they’re currently playing.

The song had carried on till it reached the chorus. All the instruments peaked at that moment and collaborated with each other to create a very euphoric sound. The crowd jumps along to the beat of the song along with a loud cheering, obviously enjoying the tune they have yet to listen to. Some were holding up cameras to capture this moment, most likely to later share it with the fans that didn’t get the chance to witness it live.

At this point, Finch had turned his face away from Al. There was a troubling look in his expression but it was quickly covered by closing his eyes as if he’s trying to concentrate on singing the chorus with the others. But Al is no fool. He knows that look on Finch’s face is when he’s trying to avoid something, and that something is him.

“Losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

But loving him was red”

The words moved something in Al. It was written in a way Albert recognized it to be Finch’s writing style. Every single part of the song. From the melody, the chord progression, even the lyrics. Especially the lyrics.

“Fighting with him was like trying to solve a crossword

And realizing there's no right answer

Regretting him was like wishing you never found out

That love could be that strong”

As Finch harmonized that line with Jojo, he stole a little sad side glance at Albert. The song returns to the chorus once again, Finch gets dragged with the beat and lightly moves his body along.

Albert gets captivated along with the music. He can feel the corner of his lips slightly rising up, which is pretty ironic seeing that Finch is singing a breakup song about them. Maybe because he’s relieved to hear Finch sing about how he’s not fully over him. Or maybe it’s because he gets to see Finch embracing the break up, which could potentially mean that he’s okay with it. But whatever it is, he’s happy seeing Finch like this. Or just seeing him in general.

“Remembering him comes in flashbacks and echoes

Tell myself it's time now gotta let go

But moving on from him is impossible

When I still see it all in my head”

The chord progression’s pattern slightly changed. Finch sings his line into the microphone, closing his eyes as if to soak up all the intoxicating energy he gets from the crowd. Of people flailing their hands into the sky and a loud chorus of undecipherable shouting. But at the last line, he steals a proper glance back at Albert.

“In burning red”

The lyrics really says it all. There’s no more hidden message that Albert needs to decipher, as it's being presented right in front of him.

Finch takes over the next part of the song, shredding his guitar which makes the crowd go wild. At the moment, it looks like he’s feeling himself. Moving along with the motion of his fingers that creates each note.

“Oh, losing him was blue, like I'd never known

Missing him was dark gray, all alone

Forgetting him was like trying to know

Somebody you never met

'Cause loving him was red”

The song is supposed to be a punch to Albert’s guts, and yet he finds himself laughing at it. He catches a glimpse of Finch’s eyes, sneaking its way to look back at Albert every so often. And this time, he wears a smile while jumping along to the song. And it made Al smile back.

“His love was like driving a new Maserati down a dead end street”

As the song ended, the fans went wild. The look on Finch’s face seems satisfied at the success of the single they have yet been released to the world, shining at the sight of a hype crowd. He steals one last glance at Albert with a little smile on his face. Albert would dare to say he’s being a bit shy. To that, Albert smiles back with a disbelief laugh escaping his lips before Finch pulls his gaze away from the other boy.

After playing a few more songs, the concert ended. There was only one thing in Albert’s mind, which was talking to Finch. Race and Albert quickly put their disguise back on before the crowd had realized who they were as they exited the venue. The three stay behind as the venue gets emptied, Race and Katherine making quick work with their fingers on their phones to contact their friends backstage.

Jojo was the first to respond to either of them. He said that Finch is smoking behind the venue alone. One could only assume that he’s not in his best state after spontaneously choosing to sing that single. But Jojo assured them that he’s still good to talk to. Crutchie then responded, saying that Specs and Mike can pick them up to get them into the backstage.

It didn’t take them long, but Albert wasn’t keen on seeing the others right now. After being pointed towards the back door, Albert was already off. Adrenaline coursing through his veins as he makes quick steps towards it.

He gently opens the door, to avoid surprising the boy in case he was nearby. Albert steps out to a parking lot, open-spaced with another parking lot above it as its roof. At a first glance it was completely empty, only a few lights turned on to keep the area lit. His eyes gandered even further and spotted the boy he was looking for, back facing Al and his body leaning on metal bars as he enjoyed the nightlife of the city.

Albert took a deep breath to calm his adrenaline, slowing down his walking pace. The area is eerily quiet. Only a few things that can be heard: his footsteps, his thumping heart, and the sounds coming from the streets three stories below them. With every step closer, he slowly unraveled his makeshift disguise. Shoving his mask and glasses in the pockets of his jeans but left the snapback on.

“‘Loving him was red’” Albert said to catch Finch’s attention, “Did you mean it to be that obvious?”

Finch didn’t fully turn his head around, only halfway so Al can see the little grin of amusement forming on his face. A little chuckle escaped his lips, causing his chest to pulse along before he continued, “Not really. But it has a nice ring to it”

Albert takes a few steps closer towards the metal bars, leaning his body on it like what Finch is doing. Now he can clearly see the half burnt cigarette on Finch’s hand. Al tries to make eye contact with him, but Finch is purposely turning his head the other way and giving Albert his head full of blond curls.

“You came back” Finch suddenly said, voice hushed and low.

“Of course I came back” Albert replied, “You didn’t think I’d fully leave like that, did’ja?”

“Well, no. It’s just that you seemed so hellbent on going to college”

Albert slowly nods at that, moving his gaze towards the streets below like the other boy. They sit in the silence for a few minutes. Hearing different vehicles pass by the street below them and honking from the distance.

“Finch, I’m so sorry I left ya like that” Albert suddenly started, fully turning his face towards him. He couldn’t find a way to word it and so he resorted to just telling him the truth. Finch stays quiet to let him continue, “I was an idiot to let ya go that easily and all because I was selfish”

“You weren’t actually being selfish” Finch said, smiling a little at his words, “You did it because you wanted to. And it wasn’t hurting anyone anyways”

“It did. It hurt you”

Finch turns his head towards Albert. Now their eyes are looking into each other closer than before. The closest they’ve ever been since their breakup. A mixture of unsaid emotions made the gaze feel so intimate and it terrifies Al a bit.

“I hurt myself trying to get you to stay” Finch said softly. His next words got stuck in his throat. He gives his brain a few seconds to focus with a sigh out of his mouth and dragging his gaze away from Al, “I knew you never wanted to get that engineering degree in the first place which is another reason I didn’t want you to go. But at the end of the day, it was your decision to make and not mine. I lashed out on you and said you were selfish but… I was the one that was being selfish”

Finch turns his eyes back towards Al, his face looks more sorrowful than before, “I’m sorry”

A small smile formed on Al’s face, tilting his head to the side by a few inches, “It ain’t your fault for knowing me more than I know myself”

They leave the conversation at that for the time being. Letting the streets below fill the void of their silence. Both boys focusing their gaze towards the view they got from this height they’re on again. Finch and Albert left speechless at each other’s words.

Albert’s hands unconsciously reach up to his forehead, itching to pick a pimple like earlier. His next words almost got stuck in his throat but he was able to pull through just enough to get to his point, “Well, at the end of the day we uhh… we both fucked up. Fucked our relationship, that’s for sure-”

“Stop picking on your pimples, Al” Finch casually said. The surprise look on Al’s face got Finch to side eye him with a giggle.

Al pulled his fingers away, stuttering in his movements but still continued on his words with more confidence, “What I’m trying to say is… I want to try again as long as you’re willing to”

There was a good few seconds of silence that Finch used to just stare at him. Albert could only wonder what he’s thinking about inside that head, “So we just… what? Forget the breakup ever happened? Move back in together? You know I can’t just do that, right?”

“That’s not what I mean. We don’t need to rush things. I know you can’t do that” Albert said, “Just… let me start by making it up to you? Whatever you want. Just name it”

Finch didn’t respond instantly, letting the silence between them linger for a few more minutes. But it’s deeply agonizing to Albert’s ears. A blank space of two eyes locked in a gaze, and one is obviously dying to get out of it.

“Please, say something” Albert begged. Hands suddenly reaching back up to his face to pick on his pimples again.

With a free hand, Finch reaches towards Al’s hand on his face. He pulls it down to the bars, holding it in place to make sure it doesn’t repeat its mistakes again. The grip was firm, but warm and calming to Albert’s soul. It made him go blank for a good few seconds from being so touch deprived of Finch’s soft hands. He retains his sense of reality when their eyes finally meet again.

With a little smile forming on Finch’s face, he finally answers, “I’d like that very much”

#random writing #newsies #redfinch #redfinch newsies #albert dasilva #albert newsies #finch cortez #finch newsies #tw cursing #tw alcohol #tw cigarettes #tw angst #validate me pls and thanku:)#unless you don't ship redfinch #which is understandable

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clevernewdimension · 5 years

Text

Polaris Part Ten

Parts: Preview, Part One, Part Two, Part Three, Part Four, Part Five, Part Six, Part Seven, Part Eight, Part Nine, Part Ten, Part Eleven (Coming soon!)

Genre: Action, drama, romance, sci-fi, etc.

Paring: Jongin x Character

Word count: 9.3

A/N: After a long time, and update! Please enjoy the part and feel free to message me your feels! Also warning for implied sexual abuse, emotional abuse, incest... yeah... I feel bad for the person going through that in this story... BUT it’s not happening. Just talked about it happened in the past.

I feel a hand touch my shoulder as I look, seeing Chanyeol looking at me. He looks over, a small smirk on his face. He looked tired, even after getting some rest after yesterday's events. Makes sense, hard to rest after something like that. He just smiles, “Trying to replace his Fighter, huh?”

I couldn’t sleep after yesterday. The adrenaline still pumping in my veins. Memories in my mind of how I almost killed Jongin still haunted me as I just nod. If that wasn’t bad, the fact that it seems like everything I’ve ever fought for was a lie still messes with me constantly. “It’s the least I could do after,” I stop, letting my words trail off, though my mind still goes… After I ripped his heart to pieces. After I tried to kill him.

The spare Fighter in front of me, the missing thruster replaced with a brand new spare that was in the the Hanger. Turns out if you say you’re rebuilding a Fighter for Captain Kim Jongin people tend to let you have whatever needed. I had my pick of the litter, and got a brand new one. I look back at the cool metal, making all the adjustments that Jongin liked for his Fighter. I know how he wanted Aryl like the back of my hand. I could have worked on that ship with my eyes closed and a hand behind my back I knew it so well. Making him a new one is going to be relatively easy. It’ll just take a few hours.

I close my eyes, remember seeing him hit the bomber. My heart in my throat in fear as I stared. It felt like an eternity for him to reappear after ejecting. It was hard to keep my eyes on him after that, so the fear was there, under my skin until it was all said and done.

“Jongin doesn’t blame you,” Chanyeol says, sitting down next to me. I should have knows he could see it. How all this was affecting me. “He thinks he’s only alive because of you. Don’t beat yourself up over it.”

If anything, that makes me feel worse. Guilty. “I just can’t believe she would do such a thing to her own brother,” I muttered, before taking a step back. I wipe the grease of my fingers, seeing it stain anyways. I frown, looking to the cockpit, “I have to replace the steering wheel with a stick, change the wheels to the smaller ones and put the protective film that he likes on the canopy.” I sigh, looking at Chanyeol. His white irises looking at me with worry. “I’ll just feel a lot better if I get this done. It wouldn’t take long if he wasn’t so damn picky, though.”

“He gets that from his Father,” I hear a voice behind me.

I turn, seeing a pale haired woman, Junmyeon with her. She smiles, and instantly I knew who she looked like. The same smile. The way way their eyes light up. She was stunning, just like Sehun. Etherions usually are. I turn, biting my lip. She looked out of place on the hanger of our transport ship. Tools, grease and the smell of the recently welded metal in the air. She was dressed in a beautiful light blue dress and heeled shoes, her hair braided into two pigtails. Someone that beautiful should be far away from places like this.

“Um… Hello,” I say, feeling incredibly awkward. “I’m Lyra Lang.”

I see Chanyeol hold back a laugh from my awkward introduction. I quickly toss him a glare before looking back at her. She smiles, walking forward. She hold out her hand, “Kim Minjee!”

I stick my hand out, seeing it dirty and calloused, “Um…”

She takes it, shaking it with a soft grip. She smiles at me, “It’s nice to meet you, Lyra Lang.” She smiles, looking at the Fighter behind me. “I take it this will be my son’s new Fighter?”

I nod, looking at it. I felt awkward here. The guilt still rising and I glanced at her again. I wonder if she would have hated me if she knew I almost succeeded in killing her youngest child? I look back to the ship, “He’ll have to paint it himself, though… but it’s the least I can do after… well, everything yesterday.”

She nods, “Is it ok if I stay here while I wait for him to wake up? I know some mechanics don’t care for people to watch them…”

“F-feel free,” I say, feeling my face heat up. “But… don’t be alarmed if you try to talk to me and I don’t hear you. I kind of get into a zone…”

“I don’t want to distract you,” She says with a smile, sitting down on one of the stools by one of the many tall tool boxes. “Besides, I have Junmyeon to talk to. I just wanted to see the woman who saved my son’s life years ago.”

I pause, just staring at her. I hear Chanyeol cough after a few seconds, causing me to look away finally. “Oh… cool,” I say, before turning around. I hear Chanyeol laugh. I elbow him, causing him to fall from his seat. He turns, talking to Junmyeon and Mrs. Kim.

Just as I thought, I got into a zone. I had to wipe down the canopy, making sure it was perfectly clean before putting on the specific film that Jongin likes on it. It’s always a pain in the ass as I sit in the seat, pressing a small plastic square to the inside of the canopy. One side of it was curved, made specifically for this. No air bubbles, as I take a sharp knife around the edges to cut away the excess. After that I change the wheels. Thankfully Chanyeol was there, using the machine to help lift the fighter so I could change the landing gear to the ones with the smaller wheels. Smaller, less weight meant that he could go faster as it’s less overall weight for the whole Fighter.

The biggest pain was the fucking steering stick. I had to deactivate the battery, empty all the fuel and then start so I couldn’t risk electrocution. Then I had to remove the seat with Chanyeol’s help and set down there and start carefully changing the hardware. The wires are specific and if you don’t connect them right, it could make the Fighter go left when they wanted to go right. Cutting the wires, twisting them with the ones that connect to the stick always leaves me with little needle like cuts on my fingers. More uncomfortable than painful really.This is the most important change I was making, so I had to concentrate on it very hard.

After an hour of connecting wires, moving hardware and reconnecting, I smile as I push the stick back and forth. Chanyeol had reconnected the battery for me so I could test it. The horizontal stabilizers moved the way I wanted them to as I moved the stick. I smile. Glad it was done perfectly. I’ve only had to do that a few times, but every time it make me nervous.

I stand, a lot more room after the seat was taken out just in time to see the from the open opening in the hanger, Jongin move, looking and his eyes landing on his mother. He was frozen in the spot, as she looks over, a huge smile on her face. I see tears comes to her eyes as she moves. Jongin bolts towards her, holding her tightly as she cried tears of joy. I smile, crouching and leaning on the edge of the Fighter. It was heartwarming, seeing them reunite.

Jongin mutters something in a language I didn’t know, as she replies back in it. I see his eyes get a little teary before he just holds her closer. She nods, “I’m so proud of you, My little Nini.” She laughs, “Though I suppose I can’t call you little anymore, can I?”

He pulls away, looking and seeing Junmyeon crying, as Jongdae walked in after Jongin. “Minseok,” He asks, looking at their second eldest brother.

“He and the Judicial head are both intrum commanders. He’s been busy nonstop,” He says, smiling fondly, “He’d have it no other way, though, since so many leadership positions are now vacant. You know him, he has to be sure that the universes know that the rest of the Syndicate had no idea about this.”

Jongin nods, “He’s good at it, making sure that everything remains calm.” He looks back at his mother, “Why the hanger, though? I thought you’d rest after traveling.”

“It took three seconds to get here,” She says, shaking her head. She smiles, before looking at me, “Besides, I wanted to meet the woman who saved you years ago, I hear.” She glances over at me, gesturing with her hand towards me, “Then I just got fascinated watching her work.”

Jongin glances over, seeing me the first time since he walked in. I feel my face flush as I just wave awkwardly. Chanyeol chokes on a sudden laugh as I frown, moving and throwing a small screwdriver at him. He dodges easily, still laughing. When I look back, I see Jongin right at the edge, looking up at me fondly.

“You’re making me a new Fighter,” He asks, the softness of his voice making me want to melt. I knew the emotions he held there, their truth and how strong they are now. He just grins at me, and I nod, not sure what else to do.

“Well… yeah. What happens if there is another attack? I’d prefer you to have a Fighter that you’re use to,” I mumble, looking away. My heart beating fast as I had to look away from him. This is bad. I’m not use to feeling like this around him and it was weird and awkward. I felt like I had to act like I normally would, try to push the feelings away for now. “J-just don’t crash this one! I’ve spend hours on it, especially on the fucking steering stick! Now, help me get the seat in so you can take it for a test flight.”

“You’re coming too,” Jongin says, nodding. Part of me wanted to say no, but I knew it was my duty as the mechanic to do so after such extensive changes. He starts to pick up the seat. I move, getting ready to grab it and help lift it in. “Someone has to be there to listen out for something going wrong, after all.”

“Well, you’re useless at it if I’m going to be honest,” I grunt, pulling the seat in side, shifting it into place.

“All I ever expect from you is honesty,” He says with a laugh. I grab the bolt and wrench. The only way to screw it in place is to hang half in the Fighter and out. I could feel my face flush, my butt hanging out as I screw the four bolts in place. I felt weird. I’ve never felt embarrassed about doing this, ever. I pout to myself as I grab the washers and nuts, pushing the release for the latch that leads to the landing gear. I slip, falling out the Fighter and onto my feet, losing balance for a moment. I feel Jongin grab my arm, holding me up as I blush, giving him a small nod of thanks.

“It’s a good thing your so small or else you wouldn’t be able to fit,” Junmyeon says, as I do a rude gesture at him. I look, seeing Mrs. Kim there, feeling embarrassed immediately. I slide into the small opening, stepping on wheel. One hand holding me up to where the bolts are as I start to secure them with the washer and nut for each one. I was an odd angle as I had to hold myself up using the oxygen pipe. Thankfully it didn’t take long as I look, making sure I didn’t damage the oxygen line. I check the oxygen tank, happy that it was about 93 percent full. It’s only used if the oxygen converter in the ship is damaged or if the canopy is damaged.

I get out, scraping my arm as I tumbled out. I frown, seeing a small cut on my forearm.

“You ok,” Chanyeol asks, looking over. If anyone knows the pain of getting constant cuts on your arms and hands over working in mechanics, it’s him.

I just wave him off, walking over and finding a roll of paper towels. I made sure to fold it easily, before placing it on my arm and grabbing the tape, wrapping it around. I smile, happy with my quick bandage as I see Jongin coming back from the rest of the ship, a jumpsuit on and the helmet from the spare in his hands.

“Kyungsoo is going to be so annoyed when he sees that,” Junmyeon says.

“I’m sure he has people in a lot more need that me. I think he’ll be fine if I didn’t go to him over a simple cut,” I say, before Jongin pushes a helmet in my hands. I look at him, pointing, “I swear, if you don’t warn me this time when you go to roll-”

He laughs, smiling, “I will, I promise Lyra.”

I stopped, feeling my heart momentarily stop seeing how he looked at me so fondly. The man before we went on this trip would have been smirking. Said something rude or flirted. Not him now, though. The real him. He looks at me like I’m the light of his life now, and part of me thinks it could be true with how warm I feel right now. I feel my face go red as I just poke him in the chest, “You’re painting it. Base color and all.” I look at Chanyeol, “Mind fueling it?”

He gives me a thumbs up.

I hear Jongin laugh as I feel my heart racing. Part from Jongin and part from going to be in a Fighter again. I quickly get in, putting on my helmet and attaching my oxygen line easily. I bucked myself in as Jongin slides in, doing the same. He connects to the radio.

“Captain Kim reporting to ATC. ATC please reply,” He says, before looking out the windshield. Chanyeol gives him the thumbs up after removing the blocks for the wheels.

“Officer number,” I hear a voice ask, hearing the sound of the woman from before, Jesimine. I could feel a small, bitter jealousy in me. I roll my eyes, pushing it away. He can do what he wants. It’s fine.

Jongin speaks quickly, “0307KJI88.”

“Reason for flight,” She asks, and I could tell she’s being very professional, which I appreciate.

“Test flight. New Fighter and I want to break it in,” He says.

“What changes,” she asks, “Sorry, we have to ask every time there has been a change to a Fighter.”

“New wheels, protection film on the canopy, new thruster and steering stick,” He says, turning the Fighter on, starting to roll out the Hanger of the ship. Right ahead of us was a take off stip, so he drives us to the edge, right in the middle as he waits.

“Just you or is there someone else,” She asks, “Sorry, we’ve been instructed to be incredibly strict about these things.”

“I’d be concerned if you weren’t,” Jongin says, flipping a switch. “Myself and my mechanic.”

“Their name and number?”

“Master Sergeant Lyra Lang, number 0307LLI36,” I say, calmly.

“Permission to fly. Try to give the scrap collection ships some room to work,” She says, “Have a safe flight, Jongin. And off the record, if you’d like something else to ride later-”

“I’m fine, thank you,” Jongin says, cutting her off before taking off.

I grip onto the handle on the back of his seat. The force making me completely lean back. Soon we’re in the air, the speed much more manageable now that we’ve taken off. I look, seeing Scrap collectors trying to get all the metal from the fight. After all, we don’t want to pollute, and that metal could be useful still.

A few passes around the island, I hear him laugh. It makes me smile, knowing how much he loves flying. He always seemed happiest when flying. “Seems to be going well,” He says over the inner comms.

“I guess you should fly it like you want to,” I say. “I don’t want it falling apart on you.”

Immediately we go into a dive. I let out a small yell in surprise, hearing him laugh. He turns, rolling as he moves towards the training area for Fighter pilots. The stone structures that teach them how to dodge. I scream, looking like we were going to hit one only for him to twirl away. He weaves in and out of them easily. The whole time he was laugh as I was clutching the handle tightly. Soon, we were heading back to the base. I felt my stomach rolling.

He lands, leaving the Fighter out of the ship. The canopy lifts, as I quickly unbuckle the belts and strapping the second helmet in the compartment for it. I move, hopping over Jongin who had just turned off the engine as I get on the wing and slip down to the ground. “Sweet ground,” I say, falling and laying on my back. It took everything I had not to puke everything in my stomach up.

Jongin’s laugh made me feel butterflies in my stomach as well as I hear someone land on the ground right next to me. I look, seeing him smiling down at me. He holds a hand down for me, “Come on. Gotta start painting her. Wouldn’t want you in the splash zone.”

“If I puke it’s your fault,” I mutter, taking his hand. He pulls me up, wincing from the pain in his side. I glance at the silver metal of the Fighter. “So,” I say, “Same paint job?”

“Maybe a little different,” He says with a smile.

“Well, I’ll leave you to it I guess. I’m going to get some sleep finally,” I say, stretching.

I see Jongin frown. The worry on his face as he seemed to pout a little, “You didn’t sleep?”

“Well, you know… guilt and stuff,” I mutter, “It doesn’t matter. I know you, don’t feel bad, ok?” I say, seeing him looked shocked I recognized exactly what he was thinking. “I’ll get over it soon. Just… you know, reconnect with your Mom and paint a fighter that’s worth my time to maintain upkeep, yeah?”

My words didn’t take the worry from him. He just places a hand on my shoulder, “I don’t blame you. I never could. You have to know that, right?”

I could feel tears coming to my eyes as I glance at the ground, “But I do.”

“Lyra,” He says, the sound of his hurt voice breaking my heart.

I shake my head, “It doesn’t matter. What matters is we have to figure out what the fuck to do now that… that everything we’ve been fighting for is a lie.”

Jongin opens his mouth, about to try and speak before we hear another voice cut in.

“I take it the fighter is good to go,” Chanyeol says, calling over.

I move, nodding at him before walking away. I made sure to walk a few steps before I let myself wipe the tears away.

Sehun sighs, looking into the eyes of Judge Krims. The man, born and raised on Mars, raised to the highest Judicial position in the Syndicate after 24 years of work. He was fairly stern, his black hair starting to go grey. He wore all black, except on the suit coat was the LEDs that show the red of the judicial branch, along with his name glowing on the left of his chest. He looked at Sehun, eyes unflinching.

Not that he didn’t expect this to happen. He knew that Junmyeon’s station records audio. In an emergency situation, it’s copied off site as well. So, even if he went in and deleted him talking about murdering a once king, he still would have been found out.

Yixing’s hand was on Sehun’s shoulder, touching it softly. The special operative looks at the older made, “Do we have a deal?”

“You want immunity for him in exchange for the proof of corruption,” He asks, looking at Yixing. He sighs, “Well, from the little I know, seems like he would have been executed anyways.”

Yixing nods, patting Sehun’s shoulder. “So? Deal?”

“Only if he also gives up the time manipulator as well,” Judge Krims says. “Give it and the information and I’ll consider this nothing more than misdemeanor protection actions.”

Misdemeanor protection actions can range from assault all the way to murder. A crime that is a misdemeanor protection murder would be something along the lines of killing someone who imprisoned people, an abused spouse killing their husband or wife, or someone killing someone else in self defence. A few years ago, a Syndicate officer was charged with misdemeanor murder charge after killing the prime minister of a planet because he was killing people in order to sell their organs.

Sehun quickly tosses the small bit of metal to the man, “Done.”

A few minutes of contractions and papers, everything set in stone. Only the Judicial head and or a member of the council could see it on his record. Yixing looked at Sehun, smiling. “I’ve gotta be here while this all goes down, but I have a few minutes.”

“Please don’t ask me about Rhys-” Sehun starts, before getting cut off by Yixing’s hand placed over his mouth.

“Your father, Sehun,” He says, quietly.

Sehun feels the familiar bubbling of anger rising in him anytime he thinks about his father. He takes Yixing’s hand, before moving to one of the interrogation rooms. This one looked in on and empty all white room, the lights off. A small table and chairs by the window, pushed forward. Readers and recorders on it. Yixing flicked the lights on, looking at Sehun.

It was quiet. Sehun could hear his own heart beating in his ears as he looked away. He turned his back to Yixing, feeling tears some to his eyes. “What do you want me to say? I regret it? No. I don’t.”

Silence met him still.

“He was an asshole. A disgusting pedophile who hurted everyone around him.” The tears fell as Sehun felt his hands shaking. The sheer force of the anger and shame he was feeling made him feel like the room was closing him on him. For years people thought he was such an amazing person. A family man with the perfect wife and perfect son that he loved just so so much!” He practically spits out, closing his eyes for a moment. “The most beloved ambassador, they called him.” He looked at the wall, covered in black foam so it could dampen the sound of speaking. “They didn’t know what when he came home at night, he’d tie his son up and force him to do sick things. Force ME to do sick things.” He glared, letting out a laugh in anger, “And my mother. She’d just let it happen and try to drink the memories away.” Sehun laughed, a little harder this time. “The story of my mother’s death was it was a tragic accident. It wasn’t.” He turned, looking at Yixing, seeing the spy with tears in his eyes.

In that moment, he didn’t care, though. All the anger he’s held on coming out. The truth no one knew. “She killed herself because she found out she was pregnant with another child. Left a note saying she won’t let him hurt another.”

The anger was uncontrollable, unconsolable now. “Yet she let him DO IT TO ME,” He screamed, flipping the table making it it the glass. It cracked, not shattering thanks to being reinforced. “She stood by while it happened to me. She never cared. She HATED me,” He says, taking a chair and tossing it, watching the metal of it fold in on itself and the foam there tear. Yixing didn’t even flinch, just listened. “I looked a lot like him and she hated me from the moment I was born.” Sehun’s lip quivers, “I killed him. It was so easy,” He says, looking at Yixing. “I just had to wait until he came back. He always comes from a trip and immediately find me. I hid a knife under the pillows of his bed. When he was too busy being an incestious disgusting fuck, I stabbed him. Right in the neck.”

Sehun shakes his head, wiping at the tears, “When they asked, I said someone came in. Attacked us. Since it was only a month after my mother killed herself, I told them I had a night terror and went to him for comfort. They were so fooled by the charade my father put on that they didn’t even question it. Of course he’d comfort his song after his mother died. He couldn’t possible have actually been fucking his own son since I was four.” Sehun looked up at Yixing, “The hardest part of the whole thing wasn’t having to let myself get used by him the last time. It was pretending to be sad at his funeral.”

Sehun stepped forward, “I heard you. Talking about what he did. They took the metal out and I was walking in but stopped. I… I couldn’t let that man live after he hurt you. Hurt Lyra… just like I’ve been hurt.” Sehun just stills, looking up, feeling his throat feel tight as he wipes his eyes. “I couldn’t let the possibility of him hurting either of you again. Be it then or later in life.”

Yixing pulls him into a hug, holding him tightly. “You don’t have to explain it to me, Sehun,” He mutters. “I understand. I promise, I understand.” Yixing just shakes his head, “I got a job where I got to kill men like him for a reason. I needed a way to let out that pent up anger. It’s not exactly healthy, but it works.”

The spy pulls away, wiping the tears off of Sehun’s face. “You’re not a monster. You’re still Sehun. I don’t think of you any differently.”

Sehun nods, and Yixing can’t help but think the Etherion looks younger than usual. Like his age, for once. The layer of armor cracked, letting the pain out after years of pinning it inside.

When he’s like this, Yixing knows that the best thing for him is to try and help someone. Anyone. He presses a kiss to his forehead, “Go check on Jongin. I don’t think he’s going to be doing well. I’ll deal with all this,” He says, guestering to the broken things.

A quick shove out the door was all Sehun needed. He nodded, knowing what he was doing and was thankful for it. It didn’t take to find him, after all, just asking around you’ll get the answer. He’s a fairly well known man, and draws attention even when he doesn’t want it. It took him awhile to walk out there, though. Enough time to collect himself and look presentable. Not like he just broke everything in an interrogation room. He sees him, taping off parts of his Fighter. The base layer a light beige already. Beside him, sitting down on a metal cargo box was a woman. Her hair like his. The Kim’s mother. Junmyeon told him about what Yixing found out. It was just the two of them, oddly enough. Though, the other two Kim’s are very high ranking officers and probably called to work for something. Minseok still in charge, with Judge Krims the actual highest rank. Jongdae was sleeping, having pulled an all nighter helping Kyungsoo the best he could along with the other medical officers.

Jongin looks back, smiling. “Mom,” He says, looking at the woman, “This is Sehun. My flying partner and the best friend anyone could ask for.”

The woman glances over, and smiles. Most people when they see an Etherion for the first time stop and stare, blinded by their beauty. Other Etherions are pretty much immune to the effect. Sehun nods, “Hello. Just… came to check on you.”

Jongin’s smiled twiched into a frown for a moment. Sehun could see he wasn’t exactly fine as he turned away to hide it. “I’m good. Just trying to paint my new Fighter. So much work was put into it by L-” Jongin pauses, looking towards the paints. Sehun could see his back tense, “By Lyra. I should… you know. At least make it descent.”

“Well, you’d never hear the end of it if she thought it was ugly,” Sehun remarks, moving and jumping onto the wing. “Give me the paint. Got to add my mark, you know?”

All flying partners add a mark to each other’s ships. Jongin just smiled up at him, before moving and grabbing the dark blue paint and a small, finer brush. It was handed over, as Sehun laid down, feet dangling off the wing.

“When did you two meet,” Mrs. Kim asks.

“I met this asshole after training was completed,” Sehun says, smirking while popping the top off of the paint. “A few months earlier is… well, the incident. We all heard about him. A newly fresh graduated Flyer, hero to so many. We were paired up to be temporary partners. This dickhead was always playing out of formation, racing off and generally fucking up the plan.”

“Thanks,” Jongin says, sitting on top of the latter.

“I’m not going to lie to your mother,” Sehun says, rolling his eyes. “After we landed, I confronted him. We ended up getting into a bit of a scuffle-”

“That I won,” Jongin says, and Sehun could hear the smirk.

“He did win,” Sehun says, “However, after I told him that just because he was a hero doesn’t mean he gets to act like he’s better than us, he said something that made me really see the actual problem.”

“‘I’m not a fucking hero, stop saying that,’” Jongin says, frowning.

Sehun nods, painting elegant lines easily. “He was acting out because he was… well, traumatized. He needed therapy. So, borrowed a pair of gravi-cuffs-”

“He stole them,” Jongin interrupts.

“Got them on him and proceeded to drag him to Kyungsoo. After telling him what was going on, he assigned Jongin mandatory therapy sessions before he was allowed to even look at a Fighter again.”

“After the first few, I saw that Sehun actually was looking out for me, so I went to him and apologized for-”

“Being a complete dickhead,” Sehun says, nodding. “Then, immediately after, it was choosing partners time. As the stop of both of our groups, he picked first.”

“And I picked Sehun, because no one besides you or my brothers have ever looked out for me the way he has,” Jongin says, nodding. “Best decision I’ve ever made.”

“I think getting Lyra to agree to be your mechanic was the best one you made,” Sehun says, smiling down at his mark. The date they became partners with the symbol he painted on his Fighter. A circle made of small crescent moons.

Sehun sees Jongin tense again. Now Sehun knows that it’s because of her that he was nervous and anxious. He looks over at his mother, seeing her notice it too. She seemed to want to find a gentle approach to the subject.

Sehun doesn’t.

“Why are you so nervous when Lyra is brought up,” Sehun asks, moving so he could see Jongin’s face as he finally finished taping the design out.

Jongin froze, his face pained. He stops, “Did no one tell you?”

“Obviously not,” Sehun says, looking worried.

“My sister… she implanted that nanotech into Lyra again,” He says, moving towards the paint. The inreadecent silver he used to write the name of the people who died that day. He’s memorized them all. He moves back, “She ordered Lyra to… confess that she loved me. To kiss me… then, right when I was happy and thought that she…” Sehun sees him stop, the absolute heartbreak on his face, “my sister ordered her to try to kill me.”

Sehun was stunned. He didn’t know what to say, as he sees his mother look shocked too. Mrs. Kim stayed silent, not exactly knowing what to say.

“When she failed, my sister then instructed her to kill herself,” Jongin says, his hands shaking. He looks at the bandage on his hand. “She was about to plunge the knife into her throat, so instead, I made her stab my hand and knocked her out after I managed to ask the right questions. The ones that circumvent my sisters instructions.”

“Jongin,” Mrs. Kim says, frowning. Sehun looks at her, seeing her eyes tear up too. He can’t imagine what it must be to find out that not only did one of your children almost die multiple times not even 48 hours ago, but the other one was one of the causes of it.

Jongin set the paint down, getting off the ladder. When he turns, tears were in his eyes. “I love her. I have for years. I never said anything. Never did anything about it because I…” He looked down, “Dad made us feel worthless. That unless we stayed with him and did his bidding we would be nothing. No one would love us. No one would care about us. We’d never amount to anything without him. I never said anything to her because for a very long time, I believed it. So I acted like an asshole to her, just to make her feel something for me.” He looks away, “I was scared of this. Rejection. For a moment I was the happiest I’ve ever been.” He says, “But it was a plot by Minjung. She finally saw the one weakness I had and used it and now Lyra was used as a tool of my father’s cruelty.” Sehun could see how tense he was, his hands shaking. All those emotions had to be killing him. He looked at Sehun, “I’ll finish this tomorrow. Can you ask them to put this up?”

Normally, Sehun would press the matter. He would not stop at the distractions Jongin would throw at him. This time, he thought that Jongin deserved some time to take a breather before they come back to this. After everything that’s happened to him these past few days, he deserves not having Sehun making him constantly face the things he’s trying to ignore. Perhaps he’ll even face them himself, without needing him.

“Only if you promise me not to seek the wrong kind of help,” Sehun says.

Jongin knows. He knows Sehun is going to give him time to get his head right on his own for once. To let him stop and think about what to do next. Jongin nods. He wouldn’t have been able to have someone warm his bed tonight even if he tried. “I promise,” He says, looking Sehun in the eyes.

“Mrs. Kim, would you like a tour,” Sehun asks, “I can bring you to Minseok and make him take a break for once in his life.”

She nods, sensing the want to be alone from her youngest son. “Sure,” She says. She stops before Jongin, smiling and kissing him on the cheek. “See you for dinner,” she asks, looking at him.

He nods, a small smile. The woman before him looks exactly like she did when he was younger. Etherions are beautiful, that is no doubt, but they stay that way too. They live quite a long while, about 200 years, no matter how much is in you, you’ll live that long. They looked as young as they did when they’re 25 all the way until they turn around 180. After that, they look in their forties in human years until they pass. It felt like she never left, for a moment. Jongin’s smile falters a moment. He wishes she never did. He wishes she would have taken them with her. “Sure. I love you, Mom,” He says, hugging her tightly. She was smaller than him, but taller than the average human. He can’t help but wonder if his sister would have turned out differently if she wasn’t left all alone with their father.

“I love you too,” She says, smiling.

Jongin turns, wanting nothing but to sleep and forget about everything for a bit. The weight of the thoughts and emotions taking a toll on him.

Minjee sighs, looking at Sehun. “He’s not ok,” She mutters softly. “I can feel it.”

“Me too,” Sehun mutters. “That’s to be expected, though, given what he’s just been though.”

“But that doesn’t make it any easier to watch,” she mutters sadly.

“No, it doesn’t,” Sehun agrees, looking back and seeing Jongin entering the building that he’s staying in.

Feeling my body suddenly move made me jump, fist moving before I could even take into account what was happening. A hand catches mine and I look around, seeing Jongdae just outside my room. He frowns, glaring at the person who was literally holding me captive.

“You could have been nicer,” He says, “She’s not a criminal, she’s just being questioned.” He looked angry, the dark circles under his eyes making him look mean.

The people holding me stop, both looking like humans, though probably from Mars. Their uniforms show the name of the Martian Syndicate base, meaning they are here with the head of the Judicial branch of all of the Syndicate.

My head feels like it’s pounding as I try to rub the sleep from my eyes, “Can I change first?” I look, seeing myself in my usual pajama wear. A thin strapped top and pretty short shorts are not exactly what I want to be wearing around the base. They nod, but don’t move. “Can you at least turn the fuck around?”

“No can do,” The man to my left says, Wystrian pink eyes looking at me.

“Fuck off,” I mutter, but change anyways. I decided against the uniform, instead going for jeans and a tee that had the Syndicate badge on it, and the name of the base I came from on the back. I managed up put my hair up and slip on some socks and shoes before I was being dragged out the room, my hands cuffed behind me.

“That’s a bit much,” Jongdae says, clearly pissed at how this was being handled.

“Precautionary,” The man says, keeping one hand on the cuffs at my back and the other on my shoulder, leading me where he wants me to go. “After all, she did attack another officer.”

“Have you not been paying attention,” Jongdae hisses at him, face getting redder in anger.

“But we don’t know that for sure yet,” The man says, “I’m not going to be liable if she attacks someone else.”

The other officer hold the door open, their dark skin glimmering in the sun. Their eyes pure white, looking at me and nodding. I wasn’t familiar where they are from, but they’re definitely unique. Like they had gold glitter embedded in their skin, it was stunning, honestly.

I just ignored everything, letting myself get taken into the main building. After a while, I was finally allowed to sit down. The cuff removed as I look up, seeing a man ahead of me. He looked stern, unflinching as I just leaned back against the chair.

“Master Sergeant Lang,” He says, hands on top of a file. I see my name at the corner. Obviously he would look into me after everything that went down. Best to be safe, I suppose. I look, noticing that we are the only ones in the room before looking at him.

“Executive Judge Krims,” I say, nodding.

“We’re here to discuss a few things,” He says. He’s a no nonsense type of person from what I’ve heard, so probably best to just listen to him. “As you know, we have what we call a truth serum. However, we can not force people to take it without probable cause. I’m going to ask if you are willing to do so of your own volition in order to help the Judicial officers understand what is going on.”

From one of his pockets, he produces a ember liquid. I’ve heard about this serum. The closest thing to magic that exists, in my mind. I nod, “Sure, if it will help.”

He hands it to me, and I take the lid off of the small glass vial. I take it all in one do, tasting the bitter rancid flavor. I swallow it as quickly as possible, “Ew,” I say, my face scrunched up in disgust.

“Are you Lyra Lang from Tribil,” He asks, as I notice the lights getting a bit dimmer.

“Yes sir.”

“You joined the Syndicate in order to help the people?”

I shake my head, “Not initially,” I say, the words flowing freely. “It was just to get off of Tribil and never look back. Only after that did I come to care about helping people.”

“When did you become aware of the truth of the Syndicate,” He asks.

“Yixi- Captain Zhang told me about it in our ship after he made sure it was safe to speak in,” I say, looking him in the eyes, “After, he gave me the infochip with all the information and told me to hide it since he said no one would expect me to have it. I hid it on one of the blades of my ceiling fan, and then got coins that weighed about the same and taped those on the other blades of the fan.”

“That was smart,” He nods. “Are you aware of the markings used in Tribil in order to control and sexual abuse and rape them?”

“Yes sir,” I nod, “I had one.”

“For leaving, like all other Tribians?”

“For working as… well, a prostitute, I suppose you’d say,” I say, feeling my face get red from embarrassment.

“Why?”

I was relieved I didn’t feel any amount of judgement coming from him. Which, really, is odd given he is a judge. “It was that or starve. I didn’t know, not really. I was nine, and they told me it would be servant work for food. They lied.”

The man nods, writing something down, “And no one knows this because of the mark?”

“They command us not to say anything after getting the mark. You have to get it in order to leave Tribil as a Tribian.”

He nods, “And this mark is what is used to have to attack Captain Kim?”

Hearing him mentioned made me pause. The memory of my trying to stab him and the look of betrayal on his face. I nod, “I was ordered by his sister to kill him. If I couldn’t, I was ordered to take my own life.”

“Why you,” He asks, looking me in the eyes again.

“Because she knows Jon-Captain Kim is… is in love with me,” I say, feeling my eyes well with tears. “She wanted to make it as painful as possible for him.”

“He managed to stop you, then? From killing him as well as yourself?”

“Yes.”

“Why have her own brother killed?”

“It was a operation called Clipped Wings,” I say, nodding, “The Syndicate were killing Krytons at a faster than expected pace. Soon we’d go looking and brought the fight to them, only to discover the truth.” I wipe my face with my hands from nerves. “So, the upper commanders besides… well, you, thought of plans to kill those who are the best at it. Captain Kim is the best Fighter pilot in this or any galaxy,” I say with a small smile, “I’d bet on it. For them, someone that good was a detriment to their plans.”

Krims looks up at me, a bit of a curious look. “How do you know he’s the best?”

I smile, “He thinks he’s clever, but I know he’ll get hit by laser cannons on purpose. Just enough for a superficial surface repair. In order to see me.”

“How can you tell?”

“I’ve been in a ship with him,” I say, “I’ve seen him fly. If he doesn’t want to be hit, he won’t be. It’s like he reacts faster than everyone else out there.”

“What’s your relationship with Captain Kim?”

“I.. I’ve been his mechanic for years. Friend now that he stopped acting like an asshole.” I smile to myself, “And I…” I stop shaking my head to myself, “Fuck… I love him. The idiot.”

He smiles, and I see the serious fading a bit. It seems as if he’s calming down for now. Seems like he knows I am not a threat.

“Did you know the truth about the Syndicate creating Krytons before Yixing told you that day?”

“No sir,” I say, shaking my head. “If I knew, I would have left the Syndicate.”

“And not tell anyone?”

“No one would believe me with no proof. It would have been brushed off and the other Commanders would have had someone assassinate me in order to stop me from telling everyone.” I shrug, “It would have been best to try to get from out of territory under the Syndicates control and then say something.”

He nods, opening the file. I see a hologram pop up from a flat hard drive. I see the face of a man pop up, his hair long and wild, looking as if it was taken via security footage.

“Do you know this man,” He asks, looking at me closely.

I shake my head, “No sir.”

“He’s a murderer and black market smuggler,” He says, “Are you sure you don’t know him?”

“I’ve never seen him as far as I know,” I say looking up, “I take it he worked on Tribil?”

He nods, “He’s a wanted man who was seen on Tribil, thought it was worth a shot.” He looks at me, “Are you with us? Against the upper management who made the Krytons?”

“Hell yes I am,” I nod.

He nods, smiling, “Then you are free to go. I apologize for the rough treatment. I’d rather be safe than sorry. There is someone still hiding on the base who’s still working for them.”

I stop, remembering when I was awaken to having the mark again. Seeing Minjung smirking at me after reactivating my tattoo. The man with her. “Yser. Have you found Yser? He was the one who got the marks on me and Minjung I don’t know his last name.”

He stopped, looking at me with wide eyes. He takes a radio from his side, I was him walk out, talking into it as he moves quickly. “I need every Judicial protection officer to go and find Yser Dimitrl. If he gets violent, stop him.” I look over, seeing Jongdae walk in, along with Minseok.

“Am I free to go?”

Minseok nods, looking at me with a smile. “You have just uncovered our spy.” He says, placing a hand on my shoulder. “Also...love him, huh?”

“I’m not afraid to punch you,” I say, looking at him.

He just laughs, “I’m just happy for you that you’re admitting your feelings.”

I roll my eyes, leaving him behind me as I see him immediately taken to do more work. I turn, seeing Jongdae who looked calmer. “Sorry,” He says, “At least they let me be there for the rude awakening.”

“I appreciate it,” I nod, yawning. “What time is it, anyways?”

“Seven in the morning,” He steps beside me as we start to leave the main building. “From what I know, you’ve been asleep for about a day and a half.”

“Fuck,” I say, whining. “I guess I should get actual food.”

Jongdae smiles, “Probably. Go ask Kyungsoo if he’ll cook something for you.”

“Isn’t he still busy?”

“Probably, but he likes to cook because it gives him a chance to relax,” He says, “I, unfortunately, have a lot of paperwork to do. Take some of the burden off Minseok.”

I frown, “He ok? Not overworking himself?”

“We just convinced him to go get some sleep for the first time just an hour ago,” He shakes his head, “We Kim’s love to overwork ourselves. Find it hard to rest sometimes if we know something is to be done.”

“You need sleep too, don’t you?”

He smiles, “I will after I do some of this paperwork. You have my word.”

“Be a shame if I have to hunt you down and carry you to bed,” I say, pointing at him.

“Any other time I’d LOVE to hear a woman say that to me,” He laughs, shaking his head as he waved, leaving and going back in the building.

I turn, looking at the rest of the base from here. I stretch, rubbing my neck before heading back to my room. I grab my reader, along with my personal info chip and tied my hair up as I moved.

Walking off base, it was like the island became a whole new world. News about the Syndicate everywhere, people angry and feeling betrayed. I know that a statement and press conference already happened, looking at my reader as I was waiting at a local diner for breakfast. Apparently it was worse, people at the fences of the base practically rioting. Not that I blame them. I feel used too.

That calmed down after Minseok spoke about how those involved were being delivered the justice they deserve, no matter their ranking. Nothing happening to Tribil yet, but the Syndicate should restore people that are trusted to power. Four positions on the council to fill, the only one still occupied is Krim’s, the head of the Judicial branch.

I sip my coffee, looking out my window to see the beach just forty feet away. The head of Science will probably go to Izzya M’bai. Her discoveries of nano tech and thus, the creation of EVO-Blood has saved many lives. She could be a shout for the Medical head, but she’s always been a scientist first and foremost.

I feel something move as I look over, seeing Mrs. Kim smiling at me as she shoots in. I look over, seeing Sehun and Jongin. My heart felt like it climbed in my throat after what just happened. What I just admitted.

Sehun lifts his foot, pressing it to my hip and side and slides me over before I could do so. He looked like he just got out the shower, hair still damp. Both of them pressed in the more casual uniforms, a pair of large pants with many pockets and a Syndicate shirt. Jongin’s hair looks like he just woke up, which is pretty much guaranteed since he loved to sleep in.

“What are you thinking about,” Mrs. Kim asks, looking at me.

“Who are going to be the new council members,” I say, as I see Sehun take the stand up tablet and start to order his food from it.

“Word I hear is Yixing is in contention for the head of defence,” Jongin says, his voice a bit gravely. He’s definitely was pulled out of bed.

Sehun pushes the tablet to them, as I rest my face against my hand. He looks over, “Political, Medical, Science, Defence…”

“Tryko Nvers, Joanna Lynch, Izzya M’Bai,” I say, looking over at Sehun’s curious look. “My three guesses.”

“And defence,” Mrs. Kim says, looking at me.

I shrug, “That one is always more complicated…”

“Something tells me if we put Minseok in that position, all of the rest of the galaxies will be angry,” I say, looking at her. “Perhaps in a few years, but for now, it’s best not to.”

“True,” Sehun says, “The people on the island have called down, but there are still a lot of riots.”

“Which is why we have to find everyone involved and show everyone that we are not going to let their treachery stand,” Jongin says. “I wouldn’t be shocked if they executed the commanders involved.”

“Broadcast it too,” Mrs. Kim asks, looking at her son.

He nods, “It would show everyone that these people are not what the Syndicate are about.”

“That’s true, it… fuck,” Sehun says, looking out, his eyes wide.

I turn, seeing a ship slowly landing. The gold insignia on the side of the spacecraft made my blood boil. The triangle with a pick on the inside, the symbol of Tribil. Above it, was a crown.

The Royal crest.

I stand, moving quickly. I hear Jongin call out my name before I move, running as fast as I could. My feet going the quickest way possible back on base, to the landing strip.

It can’t be.

I see the doors open, a small troop of soldiers. All in gold and black. Their uniforms ornate, the spears they hold looking more for ceremony than actual combat. I feel someone grab my arm, before I see Jongin standing next to me. I look back, seeing Mrs, Kim and Sehun running too.

When I turned back, I saw him.

He was tan, unlike his father. Tall, with his black suit with golden accents. On his head a gold crown on top of his black hair. His eyes unlike his father’s too. Still the Jurist black, the the irises are silver. He was imposing, threatening.

Memories flood to my mind, a teen smiling cruely as he ordered me around. Seeing him go from that to a young man, all the while as cruel as ever. I fought back tears as I see Minseok and Krims walking up, both looking surprised by the sudden visit.

“Welcome to Earth, your highness,” Krims says. No warmth in his voice at all. “Surprised by your sudden visit.”

“My people are worried,” He says, voice deep. “I wanted to come and find out answers. Had I known that this base was in a place like this, I would have prepared to enjoy a vacation after all our ordeals are set.” He looks at Minseok, “After all, you are letting the murderer of my father go free. For this I can not let stand.”

“Let’s talk, then,” Krims says, “We have much to discuss.”

Theo Rhys looks around, eyes meeting mine. I see the faintest of smiles on his face. He looks away, nodding and following after them, his guards walking behind. I hear his voice, loud and clear as he speaks, “While were here, I’d like to you tell every Tribian in this galaxy they are to return to Tribil until further notice.”

I felt it. The deep fear I’ve never felt since I left Tribil. A different kind of fear, as I move, walking away, shaking my head. I feel someone grab me, before turning me. I see Jongin, his face angry.

“Lyra,” He says, “I won’t let him take you. I won’t. You won’t go back, I swear.”

Before I could stop myself, I started to just sob into his shoulder, clinging onto him. “I c-can’t Jongin! I can’t go back! They’ll use me again!”

“They don’t know we know,” He mutter quietly. “They won’t get you. They won’t get Yixing. I’ll do anything I have to do in order to stop it.” He makes me look him in the eyes, “I promise, Lyra. Iz wha tri monsil, tri kree tu mo.”

“What?”

“Etherion,” He says quietly, “It means ‘It is my promise, my swear to you’. Etherions say that as a vow that they are going to do whatever the task is or die trying.” He nods at me, “You are never going to Tribil again while someone like that is in power. While a system like that is in power.”

I cling to him, my forehead in his chest as I just cry my heart out. I’m sure people must have been looking at us weird, but it didn’t matter. Jongin just held me through it all, making sure I wasn’t alone when I needed someone the most.

#exo fanfiction #exo scenarios #jongin fanfiction #jongin fanfic #kai fanfic #kai fanfiction #there will be smut eventually im just making y'all wait for it

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blurrymango · 5 years

Text

Chapter One

The air was salty and chilled, a sign that it was finally the beginning of fall. PoisonBerry clutched the journey in bony hands. There was something strange about this day, something overwhelming that loomed over the vessel of the ship like a cloud. The net that had been cast in the water came back up slowly. The crew watched with anticipation as it breached the surface. What they had pulled up was not fish nor treasure, but a body. With long brown hair and scarring burns covering what surface wasn’t covered in decay. The raven-haired girl felt to her sick to her stomach at the scene before, the nauseating smell and sight quickly overtook her, her body unable to handle it as she passed out.

Maybe in another timeline he would have cared, but by the sticky-notes she had covered the pages of his book with, it was obvious she had no idea who he was, no respect for the grave in which his thoughts at. And in the pale moonlight that shined through the small window on the wall, he realized that, as well as having no respect for him, she had no respect for herself either. Greasy and unkept short black hair mocked anyone who knew her. She used to take pride in herself, inner and outer. Those once delicate and slender hands that could make or break beautiful creations were now callused and shaky. He looked away, not wanting to see her in that state any longer.

Whoever had shared this before had long since left, as he hoped he would as well. He would have thrown on whatever of the person’s clothes fit comfortably, though with his stature he was reduced to choosing whatever wouldn’t slide off his awkward body. He absentmindedly wondered how easily he would be able to get his muscle and fat back up, knowing that until his skin wasn’t trying to heal itself over layers of decay he wouldn’t be able go back on testosterone. He sneered at the thought, grabbing an empty satchel and putting his journal and some money in it.

He figured that if he were to stay on the ship that he would be interrogated or if he managed to play dead that the male members of the crew would likely try to, well, make use of his corpse’s more feminine parts. He shivered at the thought, unable to tell if he feared the idea or got excited by it. Either way he did not want to find out which. He briefly considered taking PoisonBerry with him, but not only did she not remember who he was but frankly she might as well be dead if she didn’t remember him. Plus, he was a stranger to her, and though she was never quite smart, she had good instincts. He had always admired that about her.

He was about to get into a raft when he heard a gun cock and felt cool metal against the back of his head. He could hear it now, the unsteady and ragged breath of the person behind him. She never really liked the sea air, her asthma would always act up, as it was now by how it sounded. He cleared his throat.

“Th-the-the o-o-cea-ocean a-ai-air-r a-ain’t g-goo- ain’t g-good f-for ya lungs-s, girl.” He hated his stutter, it made him sound scared, but, really, he wasn’t really feeling emotions right now. His legs were tired from standing, his tongue sandpaper in his mouth, and his entire body was sore and nauseated.

“‘S-s-sides, if y-y-ya k-killed me, I b-b-bet-betcha’ th-that ya c-capt-tin beat y-you f-f-for it, make ya c-clean up my bl-blood and gut-ts.” The coolness of the gun left, and he turned to face her. Her features were etched with anger and fear, though her long nose scrunched up with disgust. Maybe it was the smell. But when he looked into her eyes, she looked away. Those once bright green eyes that he had once stared into with mutual admiration and respect could now barely stand to look back at him. She was afraid.

“Just return what st-stole and you can leave.” She held out her hand for the item.

“Th-th-the b-bah-bag ain’t-t yours, b-b-babe.” He needed to get on land quickly, else he was going to throw up his guts into the sea.

“I’m talking about the journal.” She sneered at him. He could handle an angry PoisonBerry, and he knew had to act fast or do what she wants, or things would get violent.

“J-j-jus-jus’ t-t-takin’ back what’s-s m-mine br-bro.” His instincts acted and then the gun was in his hand and aimed straight at her head before she could register what happened.

“Y-y-y’know wh-what-t, s-s-s-since you s-so rude to your g-guest, you c-c-can t-take me to the Av-v-v-vante docks or y-you-you’ll get a f-fuck-fucking b-bull-let in ya s-sk-skull.” She was no longer rude.

It would have been silent if not for the gentle waves around them. Blitz was looking directly at PoisonBerry, studying the rowing girl with scrutinizing eyes. She used to be so different, she was so confident, hard-headed and energetic. She used to give off an air of easy-going superiority that made anyone relaxed. The person in front of him was merely a pitiful disgrace in her body, if there was a way to get rid of this thing that possessed her and bring back his friend, he would take any opportunity he got. He hated how different she was now, and it showed.

“So, uh-“

“Sh-sh-sut-shut the f-f-fuck up, p-pl-please. I-I-I’m n-not in the m-mood to t-t-talk.” The rest of the it was spent in grateful silence.

When the two arrived at the town, the sun had barely risen, yet society was already awake. The mere idea of waking up this early disgusted them both and angered Blitz, but that meant stores were open. Which meant food, and though the thought of eating nauseated him, he was hungry, and he knew just where to eat at.

He walked with a purpose, if anger could be considered one. It certainly would have been a sight to see, a corpse walking with a girl so skinny she was a skeleton, both wore ill-fitted clothing. Blitz loved and hated the stares he got, on one hand, it was attention and their gazes were fearful, on the other hand, it was attention, and they were afraid of him.

When the two reached their destination, a small café tucked neatly away in the city, Blitz was thankful that there weren’t much people. He gestured for PoisonBerry to sit at a booth near the counter. He knew the girl at the register, but something told him she didn’t remember him. Before he could order though, another familiar face rushed in, a vampire girl whose admittedly had much healthier looking skin than his, she ordered tea and coffee. He snorted at the order, knowing that it was not born of indecisiveness, but of an ideology that screamed ‘Life is boring so do what you want and if you end up buried alive or in jail then you did not party hard enough.’ Quite frankly a beautiful philosophy to live by.

“Y-you tr-tryna’ c-c-cure a h-hang-hangover?” He leaned against the counter. She looked over at him, shocked by his existence, and smirked, pulling out a thermos. She unscrewed the cap and held it towards him. The contents of which assaulted his sense of smell. The thermos contained a mix of honey, blood, and vodka.

“M-m-ay-maybe j-just stick to c-candles, A-Amber.” He told her.

“Either you’re a psychic or a stalker, either way I’m outta here.” She exclaimed, pronouncing ‘either’ both ways. True to her word, she gathered up her things and left. The girl behind the counter snorted.

“Next, I guess.” The dark-skinned girl said, a hint of amusement in her voice.

“U-uh, y-yeah, I-I’ll have a sl-slice of st-str-strawberry c-c-cake and a t-t-t-tea for my friend and I’ll have a dou-double-ch-choc-double-chocolate-ch-chip cookie and uh, the sw-sweet-test coffee you have.”

The girl scribbled down the order with a bored expression, then her eyes flicked up and she smiled.

“That’ll be $14.42.” She stood straight and cleared her throat. “But if you can guess my name you’ll get a discount.” She smiled lazily. He might as well have, considering he knew, both her and her twin.

“I c-c-can tell y-ya more th-than th-th-that. A-al-also I’ll p-pay for the va-vampire’s drink t-too, consider-considering h-how sh-she l-left bef-fore she- before she could h-h-hers-self.”

She pretended to ponder it for a moment, then held out her hand for him to shake his. She slid the order through the little window leading to the kitchen.

“Y-your n-n-name i-is Ar-Arti-Artimes, you ha-have a twi-tw-twin with b-bl-blue e-eyes named Apollo, and-and! - y-y’all are fr-friends and c-co-workers with girl n-named Ch-Char-Cha-Charlotte C-Cooke!” She stared at his grinning face with wide eyes.

“Go sit with your friend, your order will be out shortly.” He smiled at her, setting down $9 and going to sit with PoisonBerry.

“Wha-what are you, like, a stalker or somethin’?” She asked with bewilderment. All she got for a response was a small hum.

“Like, how do you know so much?” She rephrased. He leaned over the table at her and spoke in a low tone.

“I-I’m a g-god.” He leaned back up. “A-anyway, af-aft-ter this I f-figured we sh-should g-go v-v-visit an old f-f-friend.”

“Or maybe we should make you go get a haircut because it covers your face.” She said back. He let out a chuckle and a small glare.

A girl with skin the color of cookie dough and caramel-colored curly locks of hair walked over to them, carrying their breakfast. Charlotte Cooke, the love of his life from before death, still looked as angelic as ever. She nodded her head along with whatever was playing in her head-phones and smiled at him as she set down their food. He clumsily searched his bag for some money to tip her with.

“Well, thank you sir!” Her soft voice was music to him.

“H-h-have a n-nice d-day!” He said as walked away. The two ate in silence, PoisonBerry giving him weird looks the whole time. They finished up and left.

“Alright-t, s-s-so, I a-ain’t g-gon-na-na get my h-hair c-cut in p-p-public p-plac-ce.” He said to her as they walked down the gravel roads.

“What, so, you gonna cut it yourself?” She asked as they turned a corner. He didn’t respond, in fact, the walk continued in silence until they reached a point where gravel turned to dirt and buildings turned to trees.

“Where are you taking me?” Her curiosity was starting to turn into unease. She started wondering how much she could trust this guy. Minutes went by with no answer as Blitz lead her down a twisting path that lead to nowhere. She asked him again and he responded with aggression in his stance and an off-putting calmness in his words.

“Y-you cl-clearly aren’t c-c-com-comfortable ‘round me, y-yet you con-continue foll-follow what I s-say. I d-don’t need-need you at this point, a-at th-th-this-s pl-plac-ce.” He turned to face her, and even though his face was visible, it still just as unreadable. “Th-th-there is n-no more g-gun t-to your head-d,” he spread his arms out “and there is n-no g-g-gun in-in my h-h-hand. Ther-the-there’s n-n-noth-thing stop-stopping you fr-from-from leaving.” She looked away, hugging herself with boney arms.

“I got nothin’ to go back to if I leave.”

“D-damned if you d-do, damn-damned if you don’t. Y-you’ve go-got-t-ten this f-far, c-contin-continue, o-or not, it’s-s your ch-choice, I d-d-don’t ca-care.” He continued down the trail, and against her better judgement, she followed behind, like a dog on a leash.

The house was exactly as he remembered it. It towered over the trees and to those unfamiliar with it, they would lose more than just their path. He always loved this place, and it loves him. He could spend eternity wandering its’ halls. His house lifeless, like he had been. Yet there was someone in there. He barged in, ready to tear the place to shreds with his bare hands to find them, to find this intruder and remove them from his home like a parasite from a praying mantis. Yet there was no need to, the person was right there.

“Oh, I thought you’d be home sooner.” With pale, cubby cheeks, red eyes, and long straight blue hair, Sundae had not changed one bit. And judging by the barking corgi that squeezed through her legs to lick him, neither Sundae nor Butterscotch had forgotten him. He picked up the Brit and spun her around, the two laughing like children. Butterscotch yipped happily. He put her down, cleared his throat, and told her what he already knew.

“Blitz, trust me, I’ve been keeping tabs on our dear friends, and I know how to get their memories back. Except,” She gestured to a confused PoisonBerry, “she’s been at sea.” She walked over to the green-eyed girl and took her angular face between her hands. “Plus, she’s changed the most. Whatever made her how she was, was purely thanks to you. She’ll be the hardest to restore. But, we’ll also need her for Midnight.” She lead the two into the house.

“W-w-well, h-how we g-gonna do it?” He asked her, hands in his pockets. A thought struck him then. One that shook him to his core. Had his brother forgotten him? Did his sister forget him? His head was clouded, his ears rang, and nausea consumed him.

“Blitz!” Sundae caught him before he fell. She looked to PoisonBerry. “Well come on then, help me out here.” The raven-haired girl hurried to them.

“What’s wrong with him?” She asked frantically. Sundae simply looked at her. “Is-is he having a stroke?”

“What- No. He, he’ll be fine, he just passed out.”

Blitz woke up a day later. Nausea filled his head and couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, he was numb and in pain all at once. He tried to scream, yet all that came out was blood and bile. He managed to lean over when he threw up. He knew it might be getting on his carpet, but at the moment he didn’t care. After emptying the contents of his stomach and lungs, he regained his senses a bit. His head pounded, and his body felt like it was on fire. He stumbled out of bed, thankfully not stepping in vomit, and limped to the bathroom. He fumbled around the mirror cabinet until he found his meds. He swallowed them along a mouthful of sink water. The room smelled like death, he smelled like death. He tore off the stolen clothes, grimacing when pieces of flesh went with it. He noticed now how his hair was in such a bad state. The brown locks were greasy, tangled, and covered his face. His skin, normally just pale and scarred, was covered patched of green and yellow rot. He stumbled to his bathtub, turning the faucet on scorching hot and dumping an entire bottle of soap in it. He got in and dunked his head under, too. He felt his hand around the floor and found scissors and a comb. With shaky hand he began to cut and comb his hair. By this point the tub was beginning to overflow, but he didn’t care because there was a drain beneath it. Then he bathed himself. He scrubbed until the blistered. He didn’t want to leave this heavenly scorching heat, but the feeling of unease made him leave. He turned the water off, unplugged the drain and went to the mirror. Eyebags, chapped lips, and a big nose greeted him. One eye was icy blue while the other nearly blind. His teeth were yellow and uneven, but he didn’t care as long he had them. He scowled at his reflection and left.

He combed his fingers through freshly cut hair while trying to recall the events of the past, what, day? He’d never been good at keeping track of time. He put on some baggy dark clothes and taking the vomit filled bucket, opened his window and dumped the bile out. Satisfied, he went to his desk and opened his journal. He scowled at the sticky-notes and carefully peeled them off the pages and threw them away. He flipped to a blank page and began writing.

Either he blacked out or zoned because when he opened his eyes the room was filled with the warm glow of the afternoon. He stretched his hands over his head and his stomach growled under his sweater. He groaned as he left the room. When he got to the dining room with a box of cereal, he saw Sundae surrounded by pictures and papers. He spotted his camera on the table, a cheap little thing he bought with what little money he had when he was a kid. His most prized possession, and Sundae kept it. He was overjoyed until she spoke.

“Blitz! I know who we’ll bring back first.” The black-clothed girl had only just noticed he was there. She picked up a photo of two girls dancing together under the un, not a care in the world. He remembered that day, he and Luci, a werewolf girl, had met Amber. He took the picture when the two were dancing to some upbeat jazz song that came on his radio.

“Wh-which one? He asked, hoping it would be Amber, as she might be easiest to find.

“Why not both? I know where they live.” Oh right, Blitz forgot she’d been stalking their friends while he was dead. This would be easy, they could get most of them done in a day. He gathered the materials they’d need, got PoisonBerry, and set off in a carriage to town.

Amber had a small apartment full of takeout boxes and unlit candles everywhere. The place was a mess and Blitz almost felt bad until he remembered that when he first met her she had been living in a doomsday bunker under a field. The curtains were closed, and the place was dusty and smelled like blood. Suddenly, the door slammed shut behind them and the candles were lit. A figure cloaked in shadows stared them down with glowing red eyes.

“A stalker you are, you should have stayed watching from afar.” Amber stepped into the dim light. PoisonBerry hid behind Sundae who stood straight-faced with her arms crossed. Blitz stepped forward, and of all the scents in the room, there was no cinnamon. The one missing was in his satchel. He pulled it out with a box of matches. He lit the candle right as the vampire struck. Fangs almost in his neck, she went limp in his arms and the light became blinding.

When their eyesight came back to them, they were under the warmth of the sun. Tendrils pure light came from the vampire’s chest. And with a burst of light, she awoke in his arms as the sun set. She let out a breathy laugh as she looked up at Blitz’s bewildered face. She cupped his face in her hands and kissed his cheek.

“Good ta’ see ya again, amigo.” She looked around and hurriedly sat up. “Where is our wolf?” She looked to him. Sundae cleared her throat and dusted herself off, leaving a shocked PoisonBerry laying in the grass.

“Your friend is in the circus, and the circus will be in town quite soon, just in time for the full moon. And since she joined recently, they have no idea.” She spoke

“S-so, what, she g-gets t-ta’ t-t-town, and w-wolf’s-wolf’s out t-to pl-play. A-and b-b-boom, j-just like-just like th-that, e’eryone’s-s d-dead.”

“Yep. So, if we don’t want a massacre on our hands, we gotta get her back quick.” Sundae stated.

When they got back home, Sundae and PoisonBerry started cooking, and Blitz and Amber started planning.

“So, as a wolf, they ain’t gonna be able to contain her. She’ll escape and look for a place where she can alone.”

“R-right, s-so we gotta-gotta he-her.”

“Do we got anything that’ll do anything like that.” Amber asked him.

Blitz went to his closet and pulled out a long chain.

“That’ll work.”

That night Blitz didn’t sleep. He thought of all that could go wrong and of his brother and sister. He had no idea if they remembered him, if they even still alive. Though he hated it, he was human, and humans feared the unknown. If his brother continued down his path of assassination, Blitz had no of knowing. Eventually, he gave up on sleep and decided to write instead.

He soon found that writing was a great way to pass the time when he heard birds chirping. Yet, right when he was going to leave the room, his body shut down. When he awoke it was obvious that his surroundings were not based in reality. The grass was a deep red, and thorny vines strangled anything that wasn’t grass. The sky was pitch black, yet in the great nothingness it seemed to all flow towards a single point. He followed the hypnotic movement of the inky nothing, each step calming and his movements languid and heavy. Eventually he found it, or rather, himself. The picture perfect of image of a younger version of him surrounded by sunflowers.

“Why, why do you put them through this? All you do causes them to suffer.” He scowled at the child, it’s voice alien and unnerving to him, its words dripping with poison. He stalked toward the child, it’s hair a blonde and tangled halo that he wanted to rip out.

“I don’t recall even speaking at such an age, child.” He hissed, circling around it, ignoring how weird his voice sounded. “Why is it that you’ve summoned me back to the realm make-believe? To gloat about your pureness, your virginity and innocence? That won’t last you very long, you know?” His voice echoed in the small infinity.

“Nothing I do will lead me to becoming you.” It sneered at him.

“And yet, here I am, all you are is a reminder of the purity I lost, the innocence that got stolen from me.” The world vibrated and shook with every word he spoke, the sky melting into the ground, leaving an inky void everywhere. “I hate dreaming, y’know. And you, we, I hate being alone. And my friends keep me from loneliness, and you’re keeping me from my friends.” The last thing he saw was that child’s damn face, mocking him, and contorted in fear. It was an ugly sight, one he was glad to leave. Though when he came back to the real world, there was an overwhelming urge to leave. He wanted to leave. The thought had not yet crossed his mind before now, and it sickened him. Leaving meant all of his progress would be wasted. Leaving meant abandoning his friends. All those forgotten memories, wasted. Yet, he knew he would prefer for them not to know. As he packed his bag, every fiber of him screamed at him not to leave. He found himself unable to scream back. He left his home behind him, a weight lifted off his shoulders and a sickness in his gut. No one knew he was leaving. Except for PoisonBerry, who followed close behind him like a dog.

He took the long way to the docks on purpose, not wanting to go through the sunflower field. A small voice in his head told him wouldn’t be able to avoid it for long. He never could. When he got to the docks, the voice screamed at him to go back. The pirate ship he had left was there, crew members guarding his only escape. He heard a whimper behind him. Of course she was here, of course she followed him, she always did and now she was going to die. He tried to hide her in the forest edge, but it was too late. The captain, who he faintly recognized as PoisonBerry’s sister, spotted them. She called out to them, forcing them to step onto the docks, and right into their clutches.

“Well, ain’t this an odd sight, a corpse and skeleton.” The blonde walked to the pair, crew following behind. Their weapons were drawn and there was murder in their eyes. Frankly, Blitz was unaffected. It all happened so suddenly, one minute they were staring the others down, the next they were in a crate, being thrown into the ocean. Water was filling the space as they sunk. PoisonBerry was panicking, pleading, screaming tothe gods to save her. The only answer she received was the rush of water.

“Pray-prayer is f-f-futile, the-th-the gods-s are f-f-forbidd-den to answ-swer. W-we are al-l-lone in oc-cean and th-they m-might a-as w-well be d-d-dead to- to us.” His voice shook with irritation and his body shook with fear.

“This—This is all your fault! I’m going to die and it’s all thanks to you!” She screamed with rage. Hands flew to her mouth.

“Y-you’re the o-o-one who f-f-fucking f-followed m-me.” There was a shift in the pitch, he could see her eyes.

“You held a gun to my head!” Brighter. “You made me leave with nothing but the clothes on my back.” He could see tears now, glowing, angry tears. “And even when you did give me a choice, my only options were you or being lost and alone!” Brighter still, he could see everything in the box. “I-I chose—I chose you.” The green light became blinding, his ears rang, and his head ached, yet he didn’t look away.

“Welcome home, Nat-Natalie.” He whispered and closed his eyes. He felt bony arms around him, wetness forming on his sweater and sobbing in his ears. He cried too and clung to his friend like a child. “Y-you’re back—you—you’re back. You’re c-come back—come back to—to me!” They held each other tightly as if either one were to let go, the other would fade away. She pulled back from him.

“Midnight! We—we gotta get Midnight!” She stood up. He looked around, sunflowers surrounded them, and they stared only at him, judging, mocking. He closed his eyes.

“I-I g-guess Amb-ber and S-sundae got—got Luc-ci handled.”

The shewolf snarled in her cage as people began surrounding it. They took pictures and laughed at the beast. In the crowd came a loud noise. It progressively got louder as people started clearing away. Amber walked to the cage and placed the trumpet down. The wolf growled at her.

“They got cha’ caged up like some type o’ beast, huh.” She reached her hand into the cage and opened it. The wolf put her paw on the human’s hand.

On the other side of town Blitz and PoisonBerry dragged a blonde girl up a cliff. She was tied up and screaming muffled cusses and curses through the improvised gag. They made it to the top where the ritual was waiting. Blitz waited with the now panicked girl as PoisonBerry picked up a leather-bound book. Blitz shoved Midnight, the blonde, into the circle of mushrooms.

“Fe lat me hahn se fuite nam!”

The circle burned with a bright light and the witch was restored. The ropes had been burned off and Midnight stood. The lovers locked eyes.

“PoisonBerry?” She asked, her accent thick with emotion. Tears welled up in their eyes as PoisonBerry ran to her shorter counterpart. They fell to the ground, holding each other tightly and whispering to each other in their native languages.

Blitz watched on, breathless. It was like he had been a man dying of thirst, seeing this scene of two soulmates coming together was like gulping down water. It hurt like hell going down, yet the refreshing cold numbed it, making him forget everything else, if only for a second. He felt around his scarred neck for a piece of worn string. He found it and clutched the two rings tightly.

He once wrote in his journal about their dynamic. “Visually, they’re opposites. PoisonBerry is tall and almost concerningly thin, with eyes angled in a permanent scowl, pointed ears and nose and a sharp and angular jaw. Her body is boney and pale, her nails bitten down to the nub. (likely a habit she picked up from Blitzs brother) Midnight on the other hand, is short and curvy, with tanned skin. (Blitz’s brother would say she’s “thick”) Her jaw is square with an upturned nose. Her eyes are big and squared off, eyes burning with a bright orange-red flame that held so much passion. So, soft curves and boxy features stood in high contrast with angular and cat-like sharp features. They dress differently as well, yet both seem to have a strong preference for stripes. Midnight wears a lot of black high-waisted skirts and shorts, with flowing short-sleeved shirts, black and blue being her main colors. PoisonBerry wears mostly tight-fitting dresses and sleeved cloaks, blacks, reds, and purples dominated her choice of color, with the occasional splash of green. Visually, they’re opposites, but they’re both filled with a passion for life that I could never hope to have.” (frankly, he used to be jealous of that when he was little, now he doesn’t feel much about it)

When the three of them got back to the house they were met with a vampire, a werewolf, a demon, and an invitation to a masquerade. The group said their hellos and discussed dinner plans. (Lucy glared at Midnight the entire time, silently nodding along to the conversation) Blitz pointed out the moon hanging above and made them agree to have a big breakfast in the morning. While everyone else slept, Blitz fought to keep his closed. The invite they had gotten left a bad taste in his mouth. The invite had been handwritten in a script that he could barely read, fancy lettering with unnecessary loops and curves, but he knew exactly who wrote it. The invite was from his half-sister, somewhere in the back of his mind, he wondered if his brother had gotten an invite too. He really hoped not, their half-sister had put them through hell when they were kids, leaving them with invisible scars and (thankfully only on Blitz) actual scars too. So, for her to even think for a second that Ty would go was idiotic. He sat up in his bed, wanting to vent his anger out. He opened his curtains to let the moonlight in, lit a candle, and went to his desk. He opened a drawer, one full of gears and nuts and bolts and other bits and scraps he collected over the years. He set some of them on the desk, stared at them for a bit, hoping inspiration would come, then put them back. He opened another drawer and took out his journal. (he had made it when he was very into book-binding, plenty of pages that could act as whatever he wanted) He started taking an account of all that happened since he last wrote. He loved writing, it was a good way to clear his head and keep track of important and not-so-important details that he would surely forget otherwise. It was a way to escape reality, if only for a sec. And this time, escapism worked well, because before he knew it the sun was rising, his candle had melted into a pool of wax and there was knocking at his door. Sundae entered and then gagged.

“Smells like rot in here.”

He turned his chair towards her and lifted his bare arm, covered in varying levels of decay and scars, then gestured to himself, in a similar state.

“S-s-sund-dae, my-my b-body’s m-m-m-mending, it w-won’t- it’s-s gon-gonna t-take awhi-whil-le t-till it’s heal-healed.”

Sundae hummed and stepped in, closing the door behind her.

“Seems as though we’re the only ones awake, well, Amber might be, but who knows with that girl.” Sundae told him. Blitz made a gesture that said ‘well, you know her.’ Sundae hummed in agreement, leaning against the wall where the sun illuminated her features, giving her an almost angelic glow. Ironic, considering the two rather prominent dark red horns sticking from her forehead.

“Y’know, I found PoisonBerry and Midnight curled up together, making up for lost time, I suppose.” They laughed quietly to each other. (Blitz’s ended with a rather nasty cough) He walked to his dresser and took some dark colored clothes from the pile next to it. A quick sniff determined they smelled better than he did. He was buttoning up his shirt when it hit him.

“The-the i-i-inv-v-vite, M-mint s-s-sent-t it h-here, t-to us—to y-you! Sh-she re-rem-rem—she—she kn-knows you.” He curled up into himself. “Sh-she remem-remembers wh-who we are.” He whispered.

Sundae approached him carefully, acting as though he were a wild animal. He knew it was unintentional, but when the look in her eyes went from friendly to cautious, it stung.

“Blitz, relax, you’ll be ok. If anything happens, I promise it won’t happen to you.” She was trying so hard to be comforting, but in his mind, that promise was empty, it twisted like a viper in his thoughts, mocking and tormenting and cruel and manipulating. He knew it wasn’t, Sundae has always been his most trustworthy friend, but he couldn’t help it.

Slowly they stood together, and with shaky hands, he got dressed, slowly, but still.

They eventually got everyone up and ready. (PoisonBerry made the process more difficult than needed, but still) Blitz suggested they go to Pepper’s café. The walk there was peaceful aside from Blitz’s occasional coughing fits. As the group was walking in, someone walked out. The person rudely bumped shoulders with Amber, calling her a deadbeat lawyer. Blitz saw red. He told the group to go head inside and order. Reluctantly, they agreed. (though PoisonBerry sensed a fight and wanted to join, Midnight glared her down till she went with the rest of the group) He glared at the stranger. The person was, to put it simply, jacked. He had at least a head on Blitz, then again, most people did. (stunted growth along with being biologically female will make you shorter than most other guys) To anyone else, the person seemed to have the upper hand, but Blitz wasn’t planning to fight. He shoved his hands in his pockets and snarled at the stranger.

“I-if we were-weren’t-t i-in p-publi-lic I-I’d b-beh-head you.” The person snorted with laughter in response and Blitz lost control. He lunged at the stranger, his mind far away while his body acted on its own. He felt familiar arms wrap around him, pulling him back. The stranger’s face was a bloody mess. Taking one final look at Blitz, the stranger ran.

“Sir,” he looked up at the voice, and stared into aqua eyes. “I don’t tolerate violence at my establishment.”

“Sorry about him, he’s” He looked at Sundae, her hands in her coat pockets and her eyes filled with shame and embarrassment.

He pushed himself from Pepper’s grip and looked at her. Concern and anger were etched into her features. He dug around his jacket pocket and pulled out two necklaces that were tangled around his fingers. He opened his hand, palm facing down, and the sun and moon pendants glittered in the sunlight. He took Pepper’s hand and placed the necklaces in her palm.

“I-I—uh—h-hope this—th-this m-makes up f-for—for wh-what I-I’ve d-d-one.” He disconnected his hand from hers and nodded towards the door. He and Sundae walked in and sat down at the booth with the others.

“S-s-so, you-you’re law-l-lawyer?” He asked Amber, to get rid of the silence. She laughed, and time seemed to move again.

“Yeah dude, a good one, at that!”

“So, like, is candle-making a hobby or somethin’?” PoisonBerry asked, confused by the new information.

“I think she became a lawyer when her memories were false.” Midnight interjected. The conversation continued while Blitz and Luci stayed silent. Well, at least he was paying attention, Luci was chewing on the napkins. C.C. arrived with their food and drinks and Blitz locked eyes with her. He swore he saw some of recognition there. She smiled at him as she left, and he smiled back. He saw Pepper rush into the kitchen while they ate. He didn’t expect her or her twin to get their memories back for quite a while, as even when he came back from the dead the first time it took a while for them to remember.

Then the bell jingled, and a lady came in who was obviously trying to conceal her identity, yet even with sunglasses and a hat, he knew who she was. He could smell not only the fear and anxiety radiating off her, but also the faint stench of sulfur. Her name was Lola Viper, and in her hand she held an invitation.

#mango man writes #oc shit #story #i can't figure out how to put something under a 'read more'#writing #abstract the book

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kitty-chan17985 · 5 years

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I knew he’d be there.

I had felt him move in the bed, I felt him get up, but I was too newly awoken to really acknowledge it. I had woken up a couple of times during the night, but he hadn’t moved from the bed...I mostly woke up because I was too anxious about something, I don’t know exactly what, but I’d always just sink back into the inky blackness of sleep, paying practically no mind to the world around me. Maybe he moved...one or twice. I haven’t had much in the way of dreams or even nightmares lately...just emptiness until I wake up after what feels like a mere second or two. I had had my hand on his chest before he got up, my hand now resting just next to my face as I slowly open my eyes. I try to sit up after I hear the rustling of clothing, but I’m too exhausted, so I just stay in bed.

The air feels cold. Temperature wise, it’s fine, but...it’s cold. Angry. Tense. Something’s off, and I already feel my heart sinking deeper into the mattress than my body has. Still, I figure he’s just...going into his workshop. Maybe he’s just upset...Freddy’s had been closed down just a day or so ago, and...well...it meant a lot. He was beyond enraged when Henry decided on it...he hadn’t hurt anyone, but he was seething. I thought I had settled it down enough by talking to him, he seemed to settle enough to just sulk a bit in the workshop...but it seems this anger is seriously outliving any other time. I hear him huff furiously before storming out the door, though he’s...quiet. Too quiet.

By now adrenaline hadn’t yet surged through me, but it was slowly building as I hastily threw on a yellow tank top, a pale blue hoodie, a pair of deep blue jeans, and a pair of white flip flops. It shouldn’t be hard to get him back, right? I don’t necessarily need to leave the house. I leave my pairs of glasses in their places, deciding against putting either pair on as I hurry out of the room, but by the time I’m down the stairs, I hear the front door shut. What...in the heavens is he doing? I furrow my brow and frown a bit as I huff softly. I feel a slight twinge of irritation nag at my head like a gnat swarming my ears, rubbing at the bridge of my nose. I’m exhausted...I’m too tired to bother putting on a bra or anything, so I zip up the hoodie and exchange my flip flops for my old white boots. No socks, but...whatever. I’ll be back home soon after I settle him down. I head out the door, opening my mouth to speak when I notice William is...gone.

Where did he go?, I think to myself. Blinking a few times, I pull out a ribbon from my pocket as I pull my phone from the opposite pocket, calling Deacon over so he can watch the kids. It’s not okay for a mother to just leave her children at home, but...I feel worried about this, and I don’t feel Deacon’s presence is...necessary. It’d be helpful if William were a bit more calm, but...he seems to be absolutely seething. I tie my hair into a ponytail, grabbing my keys to the house, as well as the keys for Freddy’s, and wait just a few minutes for Deacon to arrive before I hurry off to Freddy’s. I don’t know why I feel the need to head there...but I do. I decide against using the car, since it would seem that would be at too loud. Is that the same thought William had? I don’t want to wake the kids, since Skylar is a light sleeper, and if I wake Penelope, she’ll never go back to sleep. Freddy’s isn’t too far of a walk anyway...and I need the exercise. I need to keep myself as healthy as I can...

As I rush over, I keep looking over my shoulder. It’s still dark, but...it’s starting to become lighter. As much as I hate being out in the dark, I know it’s...necessary, at least right now. Just a few minutes of walking and I’m at Freddy’s, and though it’s rather warm and I’m barely half awake yet, I find myself more determined to find William to pay any mind to the heat as I hear the noise of snapping metal and wires, enraged yells coming from a man, clearly William. What’s he doing?! I hear the noises stop and for a moment, I relax a little, though I still move closer to the building. I can’t see the animatronics through the windows...I figure he destroyed something, and I feel my heartbeat speed up. Maybe I should just...

Then I hear it. A scream. A horrified, bloodcurdling scream, coming from inside. I immediately run over to the doors, finding them unlocked, bursting into the restaurant.

“WILLIAM!!” I cry out, hearing nothing in direct response as I immediately run in, looking around frantically as the screaming quickly ends. I heard it from the back room, right...? Didn’t I? I pause for a moment as I rush toward the back, feeling the air grow colder and colder (now in terms of temperature), gripping my arms as I shiver. I hear William cackling from the back after only a moment or two, seeing the entrance just ahead of me down the hall. I come to a screeching halt as I make it to the large room, no door keeping me from getting to him. I turn to face him, seeing him by one of the walls as I gasp, my breath quickly catching in my throat. Our eyes lock as he stops laughing, and I’m not sure what to say or think. Whatever had him spooked appears to not be there right now, or maybe it still is? Is he seeing things? No matter about that...

What matters right now is the fact that he’s now donned the very suit that nearly killed him decades ago. I feel my eyes go wide as tears begin to well up in my eyes, and my first instinct is to pull out my phone. I don’t care what he’s doing here. I don’t care if he gets in trouble for destroying property. All I care about right now is getting that suit off of him. I cup one hand over my mouth in shock as I reach into my pocket. A scream would be let out if I could let it go, but nothing escapes as I stay still. He stays frozen as I see a panicked look on his face, and I see him start to move, hearing a creak from the old suit.

“W-WILLIAM, D-DON’T MOVE!! PLEASE!!” I scream at him in fear, my hand tearing away from my mouth as my brow furrows in an expression that would probably be best assumed to be a mix between anger or fear, based on how tense my features felt. He stops as he seems to realise his mistake, and doesn’t dare move his hand again. I call 911 quickly, my hand shaking wildly as I stare at him with fear, tears distorting my vision. Please pick up. Please pick up. Please pick up!!

Then it happens.

He didn’t even move...he just breathed a bit too much. A loud snap is followed by countless others as I gasp, watching in horror as every springlock goes off.

Every.

Single.

One.

Blood splays out all over the floor as rusted, already dirty, dry-blood-caked metal bars rip into my husband’s body in a matter of seconds, snapping and ripping through his cheeks, his stomach, arms, hands, chest, legs...everywhere. I can only watch in terror as I hear him scream in pain, grabbing at the suit while I freeze in place. A scream of my own rips through my throat, tearing it raw from the inside as I scream louder than I’ve ever screamed before, watching in a mix of disgust and horror as I see his guts spill from the upper torso of the suit, choked, gurgled noises coming out soon after his broken screams of pain. I drop my phone, my hands grabbing at my hair tightly as I can’t even hear if anyone has answered my call. I continue to scream as I stand helpless, backing away from the scene as blood pools around his feet while he slowly starts to lose his strength. His cries of pain are quick to turn into nothing more than small gurgles as I see those beautiful silver eyes roll back, scleras running bloody red, his mouth open wide and torn open from the bars ripping through him. Blood had sprayed behind him from the bars in his back ripping through him, and I know that this time no amount of surgery can fix him.

It feels like a millennia before his cries and gurgles cease and his body collapses, dozens of thoughts running through my mind. I cup my hands over my mouth as I feel my stomach turn, but I try to keep everything as contained as possible. In doing so, I feel a sharp pain in my left arm, shooting through me like a dagger rocket, ripping through my arm as painfully as a paper cut. I start to gag, coughing furiously until I drop to my knees, my chest tightening in a familiar feeling as I gasp for air. I hear someone calling for me on the other end of the line as I pant heavily, grabbing at my arm as I push myself up to sit on my knees. I throw my head back and scream again, my pathetic wails of grief reaching no one but the person on the other end of the line. I start sobbing like a child, my breathing growing short and quick as I feel as though I’ve been winded. My mind swims, everything happening so fast I can’t even comprehend it. Darkness tunnels my vision as I continue to scream and wail hysterically, though my cries are interrupted quite often by desperate gasps for air that begin to take less and less of it. I eventually cease, leaning forward as I resort to small sobs. I hear a question.

“Ma’m! Ma’m, can you tell me where you are?” a voice on the other end calls, breaking me from my daze momentarily. I vaguely hear something else from the other end, some other voice, but it grows fuzzy and hardly audible. I hadn’t noticed, but blood splattered out onto my face, a few drops running down my face and mixing with my tears, even more of a distressing sight as those tears fall just within my sight. My hands rest on the ground as I suddenly fall totally quiet, feeling my eyelids begin to weigh as much as anvils, my jaw experiencing the same pain.

Am I going to die along with him?

...do I even want to stay alive now? What’s the point of going on with this sight in my head, for the rest of my days?

“...F...Fr...edd...y’s...” I hear myself say feebly, earning a request to repeat it. “...Fred...dy’s...” I reply, using my final bit of strength to say it. I feel my eyelids grow too heavy to keep them open as darkness overwhelms me completely. I feel my head hit the ground as the last words he ever said to me ring through my head...words of comfort, the words that would always make my heart melt...words I’d never hear from him again.

“I love you, my sweet Angel.”

#drabble #Angel #Angel Ferguson #William Afton #gore tw #tw // gore #death tw #tw // death #blood tw #tw // blood

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princesspascal · 7 years

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alright i’m drunk as a skunk. here’s every opinion you’ve ever not wanted but also never asked for.

i don’t hate lance stroll. he’s disappointing to me, a canadian, but i don’t have anythig against him. i think he doesn’t really deserve the hype but he is trying. as i think may (???) said it best he’s gonna be a good midfield driver but nothing else so nothing against him. there is no hate in my heart for him. yeha i think he’s too young but i also said the same thing about max so really what im criticizing is the system of putting really young drivers in f1 cars maybe before they’re ready. his money doesn’t bother me as much but i definitely recognzie it’s a factor. ok pary 2

the shenangians today were seb’s fault FOR SURE like ok i’m no lewis fangirl but it’s v v hard to see what he did wrong. even the supposed brake test was like barely that and i know they were all trying to get heat into the front tires so that’s very difficualt to use as a source of blame. even like on the road right like if you hit someone from behind it’s your fault and obv it’s harder bc no brake lights but that is what it is. the second hit was immature and absurd. i’d kick his ass on the spot if i saw him. seb is a great driver don’t get me wrong but there’s no tplace for emotions when it comes to something like that like it was a simple mistake anyone could have made and it would have been c ompletely ok if he had just been like well shit and continued behind lewis and the safety car. anyways. fuck the headreast situation but please don’t blame mercedes for that because we just don’t know what happened there and honestly i dont’ even want to think about it . anyways.

uhhhh i love pascal o’m relaly fucking proud of him. marcus is sucha g ood boy but he’s just not as fast. pascal is carrying that fuckin team and it should get some more recognition but i get that’s hard because it’s a backfield team but that’s ok no sweat. anywys. so here’s some fuckin facts. every point that any team that pascal has raced for??? scored by him. pascal. manor??? only points. sauber this year??? 5 fucking points. BINCH> that’s so good. all him baby all him. the boy deserces some love.

esteban ocon is a good boy. i’m also really proud of him. he’s fucking speedy and at first i didn’t see wht merc wanted him as a fr driver but is ee now and it’s AMAZING anyways he’s doing greaat sweetie :) that siad if there is suddenly a mercedes seat (which i don’t think there will be more to come) then i think pasal should get that seat because of reasons. such as he was the merc reserve driver. such as findia is a good and competitive team and sauber is not competetiive and they need to keep it balance u know??? so i think that. love esteban tho. he’s likke my son.

valtteri can STAY AT MERC> SHANTAY YOU STAY. YOU’RE DOING SO WELL. look at him outqualifying lew all the yime damn b. I’m a merc ho unti the day i die and listen mr valtteri bottas is a good fit there and they should keep him. One more year i think. move pascal to a midfield team for one or 2 more years. THEN then then. either lew or val will make their own choice to leace and then it will b pascal. Good shit.

ok thanks for listening first one to bring me a scotch gets a prize

#SORRY #not sorry #wanted to type this out #i've had so much to drink tbh i'm so hapyp #i made the best dinner #i really outdid mysefl thsi time #feel free to hmu if u want any recipe #gordon ramsay in this bitch #em talks #tomorrow i will read this n be likw wtf binch ur not wrong tho #bye #im out

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swearronchanel · 7 years

Text

Who let me watch 5.06?

I should be doing an assignment that’s due tomorrow but ya know due tomorrow means do tomorrow. Lol I know I should be ashamed to be a procrastinator but university has ruined me anyway. I’m tired from literally going to one lecture haha, but in any event I’ve been rewatching mad men for the who knows what time but I thought I’d take a break from all that and watch an episode of CtM & @flyingnonny inspired me to do a reaction post so why not? I decided on 5.06 since last Sunday’s episode reminded us of that camping trip 😂😂 here goes nothing..

*skips intro bc I’m impatient*

Cute community moment ☺️

TRIXIE😍 slaying my life

Shelagh looks so good too 😍 and Angela melting my heart!

Why is shelagh forever wearing cardigans? I like cardigans every now and then but all the time, really?

Everyone is sitting outside, Trixie is in a sleeveless dress, as is Barbara, so it has to be warm?? take it off Shelagh

She’s still my bby though even if I don’t always agree with her fashion choices

what gross vejo pinching Trixie’s ass? That’s not ok

And Babs too lmao, creepy old man, die

Shelagh saying “hello dear” aw

But this is like the only interaction between Shelagh and Trixie & that does not suffice !!

ALL I WANT IS FOR THEM TO HAVE AN ACTUAL FRIENDSHIP IDC HOW MANY TIMES IVE SAID IT I REALLY Want it😭😭💕💕 my two fav bbys

I HAVE EVEN GIVEN REASONS WHY & I CAN GIVE THEM AGAIN *** 1) Why not?? Shelagh has like no real friends besides her husband and sort of Sister Julienne?

2) just please, because I’m asking nicely 3) When Shelagh was Sister Bernadette she was often friendly/ in the gossip and conversation with the nurses & remember that one time Trixie grabbed her to come listen to Jenny’s phone conversation?

4) Trixie was the only one besides Sister Julienne to visit her in the sanatorium. That has to count for something! 5) They’ve both been on the show since day 1 & have known each other the longest (besides the nuns) why wouldn’t they be friends or least actually speak to each other?

Aye this is the lady who’s fake pregnant

Shelagh wearing earrings though >> here for it

Sorry there will be a lot of gushing over Shelagh and Trixie

And also I WANT TRIXIE’S HOOP EARRINGS SO BAD, where can I find them??

And how do I get her clothes and figure and her everything lol?

PHYLLIS ! My champion

“Would it have killed you to sit down for five minutes and eat the whole thing!” I LOVE HER, SHE IS A GEM, A HERO, A BADASS & IM NOT READY FOR SUNDAY. IM GOING TO BAWL WITH AND FOR HER

she deserves the best

I think this is the only time I’ve ever heard Trixie address Shelagh by her first name?? a prob.

They need to interact more 😭💔💕😍 I will stop saying it when I’m dead even then I’ll prob say it

Actually when I think of it no one ever calls Shelagh by her first name besides obviously Patrick? And Sister Julienne

#MoreShelaghAndTheOtherNursesInteracting2k17aka1962

And I need at least two seconds of them dotting on pregnant Shelagh

Helen looks so good like goals

“I threatened to put one man over my knee but that only encouraged him” HA IM DEAD NO KINK SHAME

I think there’s been a similar joke before but fuck it it’s still funny to me

But seriously everyone loves Trixie lol how could you not though?

Hey Pats, it’s been a while

Lol omg Tim in that uniform.. Not the best costume 😂😂

Never seen Whistle Down the Wind

But you see, Tom and Babs making out as usual, I’m not knocking it lol but this is why Sister J told her to chill when they went to South Africa😂

also lowkey jealous bc Jack Ashton is handsome af and that could’ve been me but it’s all good. He and Helen are adorable together and I’m here for it x10000

Omg I forgot this lady got assaulted

Oh shit I just remembered this is the episode where sister MC is attacked FUCK WHY DID I WATCH THIS

she can’t report it bc she’d get arrested for soliciting wtf

But remember Shelagh wore the headbands in like series 3 (so glad she stopped I was not here for it)? They must’ve gave them to Babs lol

I forgot Trixie didn’t tell the nurses about AA yet

But she looks gorgeous as ever, even with her mascara running

Lowkey nauseas looking at all that fish ugh. Funny becuase they put a grocery store that has a fish market on the block up from where I live in NYC and I hate it

I forgot about Peter lol and he was in an episode this series whoops

LIKE WHERE’S YOUR WIFE LOL, *I know, too busy for this, I don’t think she’d fit in the series anymore anyway*

Sister Mary Cynthia 😰❣️

Lol she doesn’t sing loud enough ??

Sister Julienne is so cute when she smiles but don’t forget she’s a badass

REMEMBER THE AGGRESSIVE JACKET FLAP BC OF THE IRRITATING SISTER URSULA

How did this girl hide her pregnancy though?

And did her brothers just not realize she was pregnant and the mother wasn’t?

Oh jeez my cousin was a colic-y baby and my parents kept him like 3 days a week when I was in high school & it was a nightmare. I didn’t sleep for so long

Dont get me wrong I love babies. But when they scream when I’m trying to sleep, nope. Return to sender.

Shelagh is so excited about camping it’s the purest and most adorable thing 😭😭And I like her shirt

Shelagh made Tim copy the napkin folding from a magazine, SHE IS A GEM

“We never have serviettes on a weeknight” wtf did they just not use napkins every day? I’m confused Lmaoo. What am I missing here 😂omg that reminds me of one of the times my family and I went on a cruise (2006, hella long time ago already wow?? 11 yrs yikes) and my brother & cousin were late to dinner and lied to my mom & aunt saying they were at a “napkin folding class” & my family deadass believed it up until 2 years ago😂

Shelagh’s accent is so cute. I’ve said that many times but it’s so sweet. But again why do we just have to accept she’s Scottish with no context as to how/why she came to England? Like I’m sure there were convents in Scotland. I dont even care that much I just will forever be curious as to why it seems she had no life before she got married lol? Like they don’t ever bring up the fact she was a nun, but ok maybe she feels awkward talking about it but what about before?

They’re so excited it’s so precious, protect this family 😂😭💕💕

Sister MJ is fasting lol I should try it😂

Omg another dumb story, I didn’t realize today is Ash Wednesday and was hella confused seeing some people with ash on their forehead 😂😂 I should give up something for lent but idk what, we shall see. My mom gave up carbs last year & I died bc I lived at home and ate what she cooked and almost all my fav foods are carbs😂

Shelagh referred to Patsy as Patsy, I’ve only ever heard her say Nurse Mount??

lol Tim you’re what 14? you know damn well those arent* bullet holes

at least he has some of his innocence still. I didn’t @ 14

Sometimes I forget I’m gonna be 19 this year wtf. I’ve accidentally told people I’m 16 before and had to correct myself 😂😂

Patrick is excited about this holiday, boy you don’t know what’s coming 😂

HE’S GONNA ATTACK THE LADY WITH A BABY I FORGOT THAT TOO WTF

I wanna fight him

Diane’s anemic ? Or her mum is just assuming

SHELAGH IN HER CAMPING OUTFIT!! The hair scarf and trousers !! I’m so here for it 😍😭

I want to see her in another pair!! yes lets get it 1962. Probably not likely this series but hopefully next series!! Ah can’t wait

Shit this series is almost over 💔💔 but omg 1963 gonna be lit as well?!

Like the space race started/orbiting the earth, Kennedy’s assassination .. wait never mind lol I’m thinking of American History moments. but still a lot of it was crazy world news so maybe it’s mentioned?? first bond film came out in'63, petition for Tim to go take Susan whatever from around the corner to see it since we know he liked the novels

Lots of famous films came out in ‘63 so there’s gotta be some reference.

Fun fact: I love pop culture references in period drama bc I’m lame jk I’m majoring in education (to teach history)

Old news but still relevant: Phyllis’s turn on: Rolodex systems 📇

“CRANE, as in the wading bird or industry lifting equipment, whichever you prefer” LOVE U PHYLLIS, YOU CORRECT HIM

PHYLLIS’S FACE WHEN GODFREY SUGGESTS SHE CAME OUT OF RETIREMENT, IM DEAD

“I shall consider retirement when I’m at the appropriate age” IM LAUGHING SO HARD, FUCK YEA PHYLLIS. I LOVE HER SO MUCH, LINDA BASSET IS ON THE LIST WITH LAURA AND HELEN OF PEOPLE WHO COULD PUCH ME IN THE FACE AND I’D THANK

LOL SHELAGH JUST STANDING AWKWARDLY LISTENING TO THIS CONVERSATION

“Buenos vacaciones” I NEED MORE PHYLLIS WORKING ON HER SPANISH I LOVE IT, Ella es oro.

lol the roof rack, bet it was Phyllis’s they borrowed when they moved

PHYLLIS’S FACE OF DISGUST WHEN DR GODFREY SMILES AT HER IS ME ALWAYS

LOL THE THE NURSES & SISTER WINIFRED DYING OVER PATRICK’S SHORTS (EVen though sister W “swears she’s not looking”)

I THINK THE SOCKS AND WHITE DAD SANDALS ARE MORE AMUSING 😂😂

Poor Judith💔

It’s a vicious attack Sister J! But you don’t know it yet so I get u

Here comes summer..😂

SETTING UP IN THE POURING RAIN LOL

Shelagh and Angela being adorable !!

Tim and Patrick proud that they set the tents up & boom it falls 😂 which is symbolic for me taking exams, I think I did well or at least decent on them and then I find out I failed by like 5 points

Nonnatus table scenes <3 😭

”I’ve seen more dangerous marshmallow bunnies“ lmao Pats this is a serious moment I shouldn’t laugh

Shelagh took off her glasses 😉😏 but fr how is Laura Main so perfect

Patrick put scotch in its lit, pass it over😏

Lol Shelagh drinking is a strange thought but I’m so here for it. Nuns can’t drink right? Idk. Imagine her drinking alcohol for the first time and just getting drunk 😂 we know Patrick and Tim are lightweights getting drunk off one beer so I assume shelagh would too😂

Damn it Patrick, you spilled your cup. Furthermore proving you’re a disaster 😭

LMAO SHELAGH’s “WTF” FACE WHEN SHE ASKS PATRICK WHAT HE’S THINKING ABOUT AND HE SAID THE ULCER CLINIC

LIKE C'MON PATRICK YOU KNOW WHERE SHELAGH WAS TRYNA GO WITH THAT😂

“And if you don’t mind my saying so, you’re not exactly Cliff Richards yourself” SHELAGH 😂😂 another great line of hers, love it

I love their playful banter lol we need more of that 😂 but lets be real series 6 has had some of the greatest Shelagh and Patrick moments so I can’t complain 😭😍

Peter and Barbara is such a unusual dynamic haha

“How is chummy?” Wait does Babs even know Chummy? I don’t even remember if they met tbh

But for real Shelagh did you really think Patrick would just forget about work completely ??

Lol Angela crying because she is petrified of squirrels😂😂and Shelagh running to her is so cute.

Why didn’t she just get rid of the *creepy* squirrel nutkin book? it seemed like they still had it in series 6 haha

rice pudding is I think the same as aroz con leche, lol it’s gross sorry

Diane’s water broke oh shit

the Turners all in the tent playing I spy bc it’s raining haha

I went camping for the first and last time this past summer w/ my sister in laws & her friends, it was awful 😂😂 I got like 100 mosquito bites that became welts, i literally slept in the car the second night & it was mid July fairly south of east coast aka it was humid and sticky af , there were wild horses that walked around..Thank God they brought alcohol cause it was a nightmare I don’t wanna remember 😂😂

ANGELA IS SO CUTE UGH & ANOTHER GREAT SHELAGH FACE😂

lol yes go to a hotel, should’ve done that from the get

So what exactly does Fred run? some civil defense thing?

She’s in labor and can’t even scream omg, I’m screaming

“They are often incorrect in their opinion” Sister MJ is a gem. I want someone to look at me the way Sister MJ looks at cake and the television

Phyllis yelling at Dr Godfrey😂

PATS’S FACE OF DISGUST IS ALSO ME

HOW DO THESE WOMEN GIVE BIRTH STANDING/SITTING UP?? AHHHH

There you are Beatrix, it’s been a while

Patsy being suspicious with the card game line lol. but when is Trixie going to find out about Patsy and Delia?

SHE RIPPED OUT HER WOMB?! WTF OMG IM SCREAMING

THIS HURTS TO WATCH AHH

Trixie and Sister MC to the rescue but omg this is wild I forgot

Fred wtf you can’t be sneaking up like that

DONT LEAVE SISTER MC ALONE TRIXIE

NOO, IM NOT PREPARED FOR THIS

“There are flowers on the table, and feathers in these pillows, that’s all the nature I need to get back to” I feel you Patrick lol, I like nature but not camping

Lol remember Shelagh’s old nightgown? ah I don’t miss it. The bri nylon is such a look™ & obviously has magically powers i.e this miraculous conception.

“..or they’ve been mulled to death by squirrels” IM DEAD HAHA THAT WAS A GOOD DAD JOKE, NICE ONE PATRICK

aw the baby is so precious

Why is the operating room/being in surgery called theatre in the U.K.?? and why is the doctor’s office/practice called the surgery? so many questions from a confused American..

Sister MC by the docks😭💔 she was just chillin with God and THIS HORRIBLE MAN RUINS EVERYTHING WTF UGH

Oh no

SISTER MC JUST UNCONSCIOUS ON THE DOCKS WTF IM CRYING WHY WOULD HURT HER

Patrick even if you were there she wouldn’t have called you, don’t blame urself

it’s not your arrogance sister MC!!

“don’t you even say the word fault, do you hear me, I won’t allow it” 😭💔 it’s NOT your fault sister MC 😰

I forgot how upset/hurt this episode makes me

“The worst thing is that I actually stopped to pray…” my heart hurts

You can’t even blame her for being angry😪

Judith you’re not a bad mother!! This isn’t your fault either

Sister MJ IN THE BATHROOM WITH HER😢😢💔💔 I’m c r y i n

I SAID PROTECT THEM AT ALL COSTS WHY DID THEY HURT ME LIKE THIS

Everyone so quiet at the table..

ILL FOREVER BE PROUD OF HOW BRAVE SISTER MC IS FOR SPEAKING UP FOR HER AND THE OTHER VICTIMS💖😭💔

Russian prison tats??

“I thought at first it was a test of faith, but it was a test of strength. I can bear more than I ever though I could and I can bear it for others because my strength is a gift, from him..” brb sobbing

I feel so bad for Mrs Hills bc I understand she thought she was doing the right thing and was trying to protect her daughter from the stigma & judgment from having a baby born outta wedlock 😭

But damn she almost killed her & now she can’t have any more kids

“I’m a mum, mum” Aw

lol I want children (obviously not anytime soon) but if I do Ima be shook for the rest of my life. Like my kids will be like grown & I’ll still wake up like wtf I had them? Lmaoo

SHELAGH’S GREY DRESS >>😍

Patrick jumping on the bed was cute lol

The Turners being cute and an unrealistically perfect family together as usual

Trixie 😍off to her AA💕

“I think it’s about time I came clean..”

Im so proud of her omg. She’s come so far in 6 series 😭💖💖😭

And Patsy and Delia are supportive yess👏🏼

“New truths were being spoken at Nonnatus house, but some remained concealed. While one voice rose, striving to erase its agony in song.”

Thanks Vanessa,, The End 😭

#call the midwife #lets get it 1962 #I'm too attached to this beautiful show #like TRASH for this show #my commentaries™

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the-fairies-and-the-tigers · 7 years

Text

Happy New Year (Stingue)

Pairings: Sting/Rogue Yukino/Minerva Rating: K+ A03

Sting has had an entire year to meet his new years resolution, but has been too chicken to do so. After having only less than half an hour, he's really doubting himself. Apparently accidental confessions bring courage.

Or the one where Minerva and Yukino are getting tired of the dragon slayer's blatantly obvious feelings for one another and decide to do something about it.

“Y’know, Yuki?” Slurred a very, very drunk Sting as he’d stumbled away from the rowdy dancefloor just before the countdown to the start of the new year began.

“What is it, Sting?” She asked curiously, her focus casually slipping from his sweaty face to the woman sitting at the other side of the room, an unamused look plastered to her face as she surveyed the partying Sabertooth members.

“Oi, pay attention to me fr’ a second, not Minerva,” he demanded, pointing an accusing finger at her,”

“Sorry,” she muttered guiltily, her cheeks feeling like they could go up in flames at any moment.

“Av’ decided that m’ resolution ths’ year’s gonna be to make my move,” he stated matter-of-factly, looking rather proud of himself in all his completely smashed glory. Yukino brightened at this news, it’d been something that Sting had shamefully, red in the face confessed to her some years ago; that he was completely and utterly head over heels in love with his best friend, Rogue Cheney.

It was then that Yukino had intern told him that she may have the hots for Minerva Orland, and Sting had laughed at how painfully similar and frustrating their predicaments were. Although in her opinion, Yukino believed Sting’s to be much worse as the two dragon slayers had been best friends pretty much for as-long-as they could remember.

“10… 9… 8,” the countdown had begun, Sting lifted his beer can and brought it to the wine glass delicately held in Yukino’s right hand.

“Here’s to another lonely year,” he hollered, but before Yukino could say anything, she was caught by surprise by a pair of slender arms wrapping around her waist. Sting groaned, downing his drink as he watched Minerva spin Yukino around and press their lips together as the guild reached zero, and began cheering like maniacs.

“Guess it’s just me,” He said with a pout, before shaking his head and ginning, sauntering his way back into the crowd and letting loose once more, a major hang over inevitably looming over his head. He secretly knew, however, that and he’d wake up to aspirin and a glass of water, along with a raven-haired dragon slayer scolding him for being too careless the night before, and that ‘you’re so lucky to have a friend like me, Sting Eucliffe.’

A year later, Sting still hadn’t come to terms with his resolution.

“You’d better not go so overboard this year,” Warned Rogue as they walked side by side in the direction of the Sabertooth guild hall. The sun was sitting low on the horizon and the yearly New Year’s Eve party was about to start.

“Hey, it wasn’t that bad,” Sting mock whined, bumping Rogue’s shoulder with his own affectionately.

“Oh, I’m sorry my mistake. I only had to drag you out of the guild at two in the morning because you could barely stand up and then you began vomiting when we made it back to your apartment, not in the toilet or sink, but all over the floor might I add. Then you just burst into tears before I put you to bed!” Rogue ranted, causing Sting to roll his eyes and rest his hands behind his head lazily.

“You can’t blame me, I’m the life of the party,” He said cockily, causing Rogue to give him a light punch on his shoulder.

“Keep telling yourself that.”

“Oh, I will.”

“Dork.”

“Nerd.” They both burst into a fit of laughter, and Sting felt his heart swell for the mage before him, his shoulder length dark hair and crimson red eyes which were crinkled with laughter looking more beautiful than ever before.

Once the boys had entered the guild, they walked straight over to where Minerva was sitting at the bar, seemingly chatting up Yukino who was giggling and blushing at something she’d said from the other side of the counter.

“Hey ladies,” Sting announced, making their presence known as Rogue felt it was his turn to roll his eyes, unsurprisingly along with Minerva, and slip into the seat next to hers.

“Hey, Sting,” Yukino said brightly, already handing him his first alcoholic beverage of the night, and the party hadn’t even formally begun yet as Orga, along with a few other members of Sabertooth were still checking the lighting. “How’ve you boys been?” She asked, despite the fact that she’d only seen them merely the day before.

“We’ve been pretty good,” Rogue answered for them both, glancing at the blonde from the corner of his eye.

“I’m sure you have been,” Minerva said, lazily bouncing her leg up and down while sipping a fancy looking cocktail. “If Sting had anything to do with anything that is,” She snorted, causing Sting to give her a half-hearted glare and Rogue to glance at her in confusion.

Just over two hours later, Sting was obviously a little more than less than sober, and had dragged Yukino to the dance floor, after being blatantly rejected by Rogue who was sitting at a table just a way away from the dance floor with Minerva.

Sting and Yukino laughed with each other, Sting spinning her around to the fast pace of the music while she beamed, enjoying herself fully.

“They look like they’re enjoying themselves,” Minerva mused, a small smile playing on her dark painted lips. Rogue nodded in agreement; ever the silent type. The dark-haired woman glanced at him, noticing how his eyes followed Sting’s every move. She shook her head, sighing an overexaggerated sigh.

“You know, if you’re going to just stare at him like a little lost puppy, you should have accepted to dance with him in the first place,” She stated matter-of-factly.

Rogue scowled down into his lap at that, his cheeks rising in heat.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about,” He grumbled.

“Of course you do, idiot. You’re in love with Sting and honestly I think you should just tell him and get it over and done with.”

“I do not like him like that!” He growled defensively, his cheeks growing redder. “Anyway, if I did, not that I do, he one, probably doesn’t even like guys like that, two, even if he did he’d never like me and three, he’s my best friend so it’d ruin everything.” He added grumpily.

“Oh, get over yourself,” Minerva said in exasperation. “You can’t deny it to me because I for one find you both blatantly obvious.”

Yukino and Sting were currently dancing to a much slower song. Around an hour had past and Sting had very much topped up on a bit more alcohol, although he was trying to be careful, for Rogue’s sake.

“It’s not fair, Yuki,” Sting groaned mournfully. “I made it a resolution and I was too chicken to do anything!”

“I mean, you’ve still got around just under half an hour left,” Yukino said, pitifully patting him on the back. Truth be told she felt a little guilty as she’d been with Minerva for exactly a year now, but Sting had yet to get with Rogue.

“I’ll never work up the courage,” he moaned, “He’s just never gonna like me the same way back.”

“You don’t know that,” Yukino said in her most reassuring voice, “honestly I think he likes you exactly the same way as you like him,”

“Man, he’s just so adorable and broody and beautiful and I just wanna hug him forever and ever.” He rambled on as Yukino shook her head.

“Hey, why don’t we go over and see him, you might pluck up the courage then,” she suggested, gently taking his hand and guiding him through the crowd. She hated seeing her friend like this, and honestly, she fully believed he deserved the same happiness she already had.

Meanwhile, Minerva had cracked Rogue with the help of a few drinks, and he was resting his head in his arms on the table, feeling very sorry for himself.

“Oh come on, stop being a wimp,” Minerva sighed, eyeing him from her seat.

“But I can’t. He’ll never like me back,” He whined, his voice muffled by his arms.

Yukino and Sting had just stopped a little way away from the table, and Minerva had locked eyes with Yukino, indicating for her to wait. She too had had enough.

“Rogue, how do you feel about Sting?”

“You know how I feel!” he groaned, unaware of the fact that that very person was standing in ear shot, flinching at the harshness of his best friend’s tone and bracing himself for rejection. “I hate his stupid face cause I just wanna touch it all the time, and I hate his stupid hair and his stupid everything because he’s so pretty. I just wanna hug him constantly and I want him to hug me back but he never will!”

“You may wanna rise your head,” Minerva finally said, when it was obvious Sting was just going to stand there, completely dumbfounded with wide eyes.

“What?” he asked, looking up at her with a pout, before noticing his best friend standing a few meters away, his eyes going wide with horror and his face flushing almost the same shade as his eyes.

“Sting, I didn’t mean-” he stuttered after sitting up rigid in his chair.

“Rogue-” Sting interrupted, cursing as the ten seconds until the new year count began.

“10… 9… 8…”

Before Rogue could get out of his chair and disappear into the crowd, Sting decided that there was only one thing he could do, as talking would be impossible over the noise. Quicker than he felt he’d ever moved before, Sting was beside Rogue’s chair hand had turned the boy’s face towards his own, lifting his chin up using the tip of one of his gloved fingers. He allowed a moment for Rogue to pull away if he wanted, but he never did. Sting noticed that Rogue’s eyes had so much more depth to them than he’s previously realised, there were flecks of both darker and much lighter reds, and they could only be described, in Sting’s opinion, as breath takingly beautiful. He then leaned down to press his lips to Rogue’s, just as the countdown reached zero.

Rogue’s lips soon began to respond, they were slightly chapped, a little more so than Sting’s, and he quickly brought his hand up to run it through Sting’s soft, blonde locks. The loud, obnoxious cheering of their guildmates celebrating the new year was nothing but background noise to them, as they just basked in the taste and closeness of each other.

Once they’d pulled away, Sting rested his forehead against Rogues, his hands grasping the sides of the shadow mage’s face.

“I suppose we’re just like Yukino and Minerva now, huh,” Sting chuckled blissfully, rubbing their noses together in an eskimo kiss.

“Hmm, I suppose we are,” Rogue replied with an affectionate smile, bringing his hands up to grasp the top of where Sting’s were resting.

Minerva and Yukino had since moved away, Yukino excitedly chattering away about future ‘double dates’ and what not.

“It’s gonna be so fun!” She beamed up at her girlfriend, causing Minerva to smile down, half lidded and full of fondness.

“You’re being far too adorable for me,” Minerva stated out of the blue, causing Yukino to blush and look shyly down at her feet. At that, the taller girl cupped the smaller’s face in her hands and leant down capture the familiar softness of her lips in her own, tasting the familiar taste that simply was Yukino.

On the way back to Sting’s apartment that night-Rogue had insisted Sting was too drunk to walk home alone-Sting refused to let Rogue go. He kept leaning down to nuzzle into the crook of the slightly smaller mage’s neck, until he was pushed away because ‘it’s hard to walk with you so close, you dork’. Their hands were intertwined and despite that they could see their breaths, they were warm in the company of one another.

Sting still vomited a few times when they got back, but this year it was in the toilet, and Rogue didn’t have to complain about cleaning up. This year, Sting knew that he’d wake up to aspirin and a glass of water, along with a raven-haired dragon slayer scolding him for being too careless the night before, and that ‘you’re so lucky to have a boyfriend like me, Sting Eucliffe.’

As you can probably tell, I was meant to post something like this on new years buuut that never happened. Man, I’m so bad with dates and crap, first Stingue week, not this.

Sorry bout’ that, maybe I’ll be able to do at least something on time some time this year lmao.

Anyway, hope you enjoyed!

#Stingue #Yukinerva #Fairy Tail #New Year #Sabertooth #fanfic

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