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istumpysk · 2 years ago

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Operation Stumpy Re-Read

ASOS: Jaime VIII (Chapter 67)

I am a stranger in my own House. His son was dead, his father had disowned him, and his sister . . . she had not allowed him to be alone with her once, after that first day in the royal sept where Joffrey lay amongst the candles. Even when they bore him across the city to his tomb in the Great Sept of Baelor, Cersei kept a careful distance.

Maybe she was worried you'd want to fuck on the tomb?

+.+.+

The table itself was old weirwood, pale as bone, carved in the shape of a huge shield supported by three white stallions. By tradition the Lord Commander sat at the top of the shield, and the brothers three to a side, on the rare occasions when all seven were assembled.

Why three stallions?

+.+.+

The Book of the Brothers was its formal name, but more often it was simply called the White Book.

[...]

The heraldic drawings and illuminations were done by septons sent from the Great Sept of Baelor three times a year, but it was the duty of the Lord Commander to keep the entries up to date.

[...]

Ser Barristan Selmy had preceded Jaime as Lord Commander. The shield atop his page showed the arms of House Selmy: three stalks of wheat, yellow, on a brown field. Jaime was amused, though unsurprised, to find that Ser Barristan had taken the time to record his own dismissal before leaving the castle.

[...]

Jaime's own page was scant by comparison.

Ser Jaime of House Lannister. Firstborn son of Lord Tywin and Lady Joanna of Casterly Rock. Served against the Kingswood Brotherhood as squire to Lord Summer Crakehall. Knighted in his 15th year by Ser Arthur Dayne of the Kingsguard, for valor in the field. Chosen for the Kingsguard in his 15th year by King Aerys II Targaryen. During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne. Thereafter known as the "Kingslayer." Pardoned for his crime by King Robert I Baratheon. Served in the honor guard that brought his sister the Lady Cersei Lannister to King's Landing to wed King Robert. Champion in the tourney held at King's Landing on the occasion of their wedding.

Summed up like that, his life seemed a rather scant and mingy thing. Ser Barristan could have recorded a few of his other tourney victories, at least.

I'm going to do something shocking and side with Jaime here. Yes this is a pitiful career, but if you read Barristan Selmy's life history (it's in the book), there's a handful of entries related to tournament wins. Barristan isn't extending the same respect to Jaime.

Also,

Wounded by arrow, spear, and sword at the Battle of the Trident whilst fighting beside his Sworn Brothers and Rhaegar Prince of Dragonstone. Pardoned, and named Lord Commander of the Kingsguard, by King Robert I Baratheon.

vs.

During the Sack of King's Landing, slew King Aerys II at the foot of the Iron Throne. Thereafter known as the "Kingslayer." Pardoned for his crime by King Robert I Baratheon.

Nice, Selmy.

Barristan didn't commit a crime like Jaime, he was doing his duty.

Yeah? Well, I think loyally serving a lunatic who burns innocent people alive is a pretty clear crime. Couldn't help but notice Ned Stark had no problem walking away from Robert and his duty.

+.+.+

The world was simpler in those days, Jaime thought, and men as well as swords were made of finer steel. Or was it only that he had been fifteen?

The good old days, when Targaryens were drinking fire and butchering each other.

+.+.+

And me, that boy I was . . . when did he die, I wonder? When I donned the white cloak? When I opened Aerys's throat? That boy had wanted to be Ser Arthur Dayne, but someplace along the way he had become the Smiling Knight instead.

The Smiling Knight was a madman, cruelty and chivalry all jumbled up together, but he did not know the meaning of fear.

Honestly, not too far off. Lol

+.+.+

Ser Boros and Ser Meryn sat to his right, leaving an empty chair between them for Ser Arys Oakheart, off in Dorne. Ser Osmund, Ser Balon, and Ser Loras took the seats to his left. The old and the new. Jaime wondered if that meant anything. There had been times during its history where the Kingsguard had been divided against itself, most notably and bitterly during the Dance of the Dragons. Was that something he needed to fear as well?

I don't know, but you've certainly made me consider that possibility.

+.+.+

Ser Balon Swann frowned. "The Imp was not alone on the dais. Far from it. That late in the feast, we had people standing and moving about, changing places, slipping off to the privy, servants were coming and going . . . the king and queen had just opened the wedding pie, every eye was on them or those thrice-damned doves. No one was watching the wine cup."

"Who else was on the dais?" asked Jaime.

Ser Meryn answered. "The king's family, the bride's family, Grand Maester Pycelle, the High Septon . . ."

Kudos to Balon Swann for doing the minimum, and examining other options.

Balon Swann is such a weird character. Jaime thinks to himself that Balon is better suited for the white cloak than all his brothers, and up until this point there's little to refute that.

Then A Dance with Dragons happens, and this guy is participating in murder plots targeting kids. Pardon?

+.+.+

"No," the Knight of Flowers said, unamused. "Sansa Stark was the poisoner. You all forget, my sister was drinking from that chalice as well. Sansa Stark was the only person in the hall who had reason to want Margaery dead, as well as the king. By poisoning the wedding cup, she could hope to kill both of them. And why did she run afterward, unless she was guilty?"

The boy makes sense. Tyrion might yet be innocent. No one was any closer to finding the girl, however. Perhaps Jaime should look into that himself.

Sansa Stark is the only person in this story looking out for your sister, you dolt. Her and granny.

Anyway, fun time with parallels: Loras Tyrell falsely accuses both Brienne and Sansa of killing kings! Weee.

+.+.+

For a start, it would be good to know how she had gotten out of the castle. Varys may have a notion or two about that. No one knew the Red Keep better than the eunuch.

And the rats.

+.+.+

Ser Osmund Kettleblack was the first to arrive. He gave Jaime a grin, as if they were old brothers-in-arms.

"Ser Osmund. I do not know you. I find that curious. I've fought in tourneys, mêlées, and battles throughout the Seven Kingdoms. I know of every hedge knight, freerider, and upjumped squire of any skill who has ever presumed to break a lance in the lists. So how is it that I have never heard of you, Ser Osmund?"

"That I couldn't say, my lord." He had a great wide smile on his face, did Ser Osmund, as if he and Jaime were old comrades in arms playing some jolly little game.

What was Cersei thinking when she gave this one a white cloak?

The man's grin returned. He left swaggering.

+.+.+

Ser Balon's unease was plain. "Donnel erred, but he is Tommen's man now. You have my word."

"It's not Ser Donnel the Constant who concerns me. It's you." Jaime leaned forward. "What will you do if brave Ser Donnel gives his sword to yet another usurper, and one day comes storming into the throne room? And there you stand all in white, between your king and your blood. What will you do?"

"I . . . my lord, that will never happen."

"It happened to me," Jaime said.

Should I be paying attention to this?

House Swann of Stonehelm is a noble house from the stormlands. Aegon VI and the Golden Company are currently eating up the stormlands.

Is this dude Jaime-lite?

+.+.+

Jaime hated that smile. "I was better than you, Ser Loras. I was bigger, I was stronger, and I was quicker."

"And now you're older," the boy said. "My lord."

He had to laugh. This is too absurd. Tyrion would mock me unmercifully if he could hear me now, comparing cocks with this green boy. "Older and wiser, ser. You should learn from me."

"As you learned from Ser Boros and Ser Meryn?"

That arrow hit too close to the mark. "I learned from the White Bull and Barristan the Bold," Jaime snapped. "I learned from Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning, who could have slain all five of you with his left hand while he was taking with a piss with the right. I learned from Prince Lewyn of Dorne and Ser Oswell Whent and Ser Jonothor Darry, good men every one."

"Dead men, every one."

He's me, Jaime realized suddenly. I am speaking to myself, as I was, all cocksure arrogance and empty chivalry. This is what it does to you, to be too good too young.

"There are no men like me. There's only me." - Catelyn VII, ACOK

Ha!

Please correct me if I'm wrong, but I believe this is the first time it's mentioned that Arthur Dayne was equally capable of fighting with his left and right hand.

Contrary to what the show depicted, when you revisit Ned's flashback, he's holding Dawn with both hands:

"And now it begins," said Ser Arthur Dayne, the Sword of the Morning. He unsheathed Dawn and held it with both hands. The blade was pale as milkglass, alive with light. - Eddard X, AGOT

Feels kind of relevant this is popping up in a Jaime chapter for the first time.

Oh, and Qhorin! I can't forget Qhorin.

Qhorin drew his longsword. The tale of how he had taught himself to fight with his left hand after losing half of his right was part of his legend; it was said that he handled a blade better now than he ever had before. - Jon VIII, ACOK

Damn, I wonder if abandoning the gap torpedoed Jaime's chances of properly building up his left hand. Oops?

+.+.+

"It's said you fought magnificently in the battle . . . almost as well as Lord Renly's ghost beside you. A Sworn Brother has no secrets from his Lord Commander. Tell me, ser. Who was wearing Renly's armor?"

For a moment Loras Tyrell looked as though he might refuse, but in the end he remembered his vows. "My brother," he said sullenly. "Renly was taller than me, and broader in the chest. His armor was too loose on me, but it suited Garlan well."

"Was the masquerade your notion, or his?"

"Lord Littlefinger suggested it. He said it would frighten Stannis's ignorant men-at-arms."

What's with Littlefinger suggesting that?

In a recent chapter, while Tyrion's in the middle of another tantrum, Garlan kindly acknowledges his contributions during the Battle of the Blackwater.

"If I am ever Hand again, the first thing I'll do is hang all the singers," said Tyrion, too loudly.

Lady Leonette laughed lightly beside him, and Ser Garlan leaned over to say, "A valiant deed unsung is no less valiant." - Tyrion VIII, ASOS

I totally missed this could also be applied to Garlan. Now Tyrion's whining is even funnier.

+.+.+

"She had sworn to protect him [Renly]. Ser Emmon Cuy, Ser Robar Royce, Ser Parmen Crane, they'd sworn as well. How could anyone have hurt him, with her inside his tent and the others just outside? Unless they were part of it."

"There were five of you at the wedding feast," Jaime pointed out. "How could Joffrey die? Unless you were part of it?"

[...]

"She fled," he said. "She and Catelyn Stark, they left him in his blood and ran. Why would they, if it was not their work?" He stared at the table. "Renly gave me the van. Otherwise it would have been me helping him don his armor. He often entrusted that task to me. We had . . . we had prayed together that night. I left him with her. Ser Parmen and Ser Emmon were guarding the tent, and Ser Robar Royce was there as well. Ser Emmon swore Brienne had . . . although . . ."

"Yes?" Jaime prompted, sensing a doubt.

"The gorget was cut through. One clean stroke, through a steel gorget. Renly's armor was the best, the finest steel. How could she do that? I tried myself, and it was not possible. She's freakish strong for a woman, but even the Mountain would have needed a heavy axe. And why armor him and then cut his throat?" He gave Jaime a confused look. "If not her, though . . . how could it be a shadow?"

JUSTICE FOR BRIENNE.

+.+.+

The younger man started for the door. But there he turned back. "Renly thought she was absurd. A woman dressed in man's mail, pretending to be a knight."

"If he'd ever seen her in pink satin and Myrish lace, he would not have complained."

"I asked him why he kept her close, if he thought her so grotesque. He said that all his other knights wanted things of him, castles or honors or riches, but all that Brienne wanted was to die for him. When I saw him all bloody, with her fled and the three of them unharmed . . . if she's innocent, then Robar and Emmon . . ." He could not seem to say the words.

Jaime had not stopped to consider that aspect of it. "I would have done the same, ser." The lie came easy, but Ser Loras seemed grateful for it.

Fuck Renly Baratheon's rotting corpse.

Jaime's not alone. I never considered how big of a deal it is that Loras killed his sworn brothers in a blind rage. That's bad. That's really bad. Plus he killed a Royce! That's the greatest sin of all.

+.+.+

The Knight of Flowers had been so mad with grief for Renly that he had cut down two of his own Sworn Brothers, but it had never occurred to Jaime to do the same with the five who had failed Joffrey. He was my son, my secret son . . . What am I, if I do not lift the hand I have left to avenge mine own blood and seed? He ought to kill Ser Boros at least, just to be rid of him.

Ser Boros will probably die of a heart attack before Jaime can get to him, but I'm including this just in case.

+.+.+

He looked at his stump and grimaced. I must do something about that. If the late Ser Jacelyn Bywater could wear an iron hand, he should have a gold one. Cersei might like that. A golden hand to stroke her golden hair, and hold her hard against me.

His hand could wait, though. There were other things to tend to first. There were other debts to pay.

Hey, a debt he'll actually pay. Finally.

I'm trying to ignore the golden hand talk. Cringe.

Final thoughts:

Realistically, other than the bear and sending Brienne to find Sansa, what great achievements will Jaime be able to claim by the end of this series?

I have a hard time envisioning him ever fighting the Others, or Daenerys and her armies. This isn't the show, unless the author gives him Tyrion armour, he'll die.

I'm not being a snarky bitch, I'm legitimately trying to figure out what's going in this White Book. Obviously something?

-> return to menu <-

#operation stumpy re-read #asos #jaime viii

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isagrimorie · 3 years ago

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I am actually not as excited as others are about Thirteen being in the hands of Big Finish, because reading and listening to the Takes. I have realized, a lot of people don’t understand Thirteen and write off her personality.

I only have to look at the scant few novels about Thirteen to see how OOC and shallow people see her.

They write Thirteen like generic Doctor. Touchy when she’s very much not, too happy go lucky when it’s a mask because she’s afraid how people (her fam) will react to her genuine emotions.

And she’s a little to a lot condescending and always down to fight but maintained, at least in s11 an air of someone reasonable. She’s just this side short of manipulative, but trying not to be.

And post-S12 her facade is breaking down and her honest efforts to be better is breaking down.

Honestly the only prose writers that have her right are Sophie Aldred and Paul Cornell.

Oh and that writer where the team gets stuck in a Roman war, but then the writer did a short story and again Thirteen is OOC.

Also I don’t know if a lot of people who will be writing her picked up on the theme about refugees and children being experimented on. Or the Doctor’s complicated feelings for Gallifrey.

Say what you will about Chibnall destroying Gallifrey but it feels like Chibnall is delving more into what Gallifrey was. Interacting more with its place in the universe and not just to the Doctor, as this former empire that tied all the universe’s infrastructure to itself.

RTD and Moffat have made gestures about Time Lords being bastards but at the end of the day, it still felt like they think Time Lords are neat, really. Meanwhile, Chibnall seems to be going with, yeah Time Lords are cool but how did they get that way? Where did they get the resources to do so? Why was it their right to maintain the Web of Time.

And the answer is, because they subjugated Time into something neat and controllable.

(“This is heresy!”) Swarm and Azure are genocidal murderers but, complicatedly so, they aren’t wrong.

And I don’t know to trust the Big Finish with that. I don’t know if they’ll just go with the first shallow read on Thirteen and the story she’s in.

#thinky thoughts #meta: doctor who #thirteenth doctor #dr who

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lubdubsworld · 4 years ago

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Insatiable ( Jungkook x Oc) Chapter 5

Pairing : Jeon Jungkook x OC

Rating 18+

Genre : Vampire Au!!!! , DILF! Jungkook ! Bodyguard AU! Babysitter OC! Age difference!!!

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4

Chapter 5

“Well, this is confusing.”

Namjoon was staring at him like he’d grown an extra head and Jungkook grunted from where he was trying to deadlift the 250lbs barbell, dropping it back down to stare at his friend. He’d never been able to deadlift this much. But then, today everything about him felt different. His senses heightened, vision sharper and just a lot more energy than usual.

“What?” He snapped, slightly annoyed because .... well, he had no idea why he was so annoyed. And that only added to his already foul mood.

“You look like you had a good night. A really good night but you’re also acting like you really need to get laid. So I’m trying to figure out which it is?” Namjoon frowned, rubbing his chin thoughtfully.

Jungkook groaned , grabbing the small towel from the chair and soaking up the sweat dotting the back of his neck. He walked over to the water dispenser in the corner of the gym, pouring himself a glass, tipping it over his head and shaking out of his hair as the water dripped down his face and neck, drenching his sweat soaked tank top even more. .

Somewhere to his right, one of the ladies on the treadmill, tripped, crashing in a heap on the machine and he couldn’t help but smirk. She had been staring at him the entire time.

Jungkook was used to attention. He was used to the stares and the lust and the heightened heart rates he induced . It had been bad, even in his days as a human and now, five centuries later as a powerful vampire , it had only grown.

He was handsome. He was fit and he was a good guy. It was only natural that women wanted him. And he was okay with that. It gave him the luxury of being able to pick and choose, who he wanted in his bed. And he did.

Not that he did it often. With Joowon to care for, Jungkook often went months on end without sex and that was okay. Because the kind of sex he usually had, it was just ...a release. There was nothing intimate or personal about it.

Even with Helena it had been the friendship that had appealed to him.

Helena was ...fun. She liked to sail through the world, doing as she pleased and taking lovers everywhere. No one could keep her in a place for long and no one could ground her. There had been a time when he had thought that he was in love with her but that was just Helena. She made you feel like you couldn’t live without her. Because of how much happiness she imbibed in the moments. Because of how non judgemental and kind she was.

And he loved her. But now , centuries later it was the love of a dear friend.

But with Sera..... it had been something else.

He had a way he did things.

A little kissing , a little foreplay and just a whole lot of fucking with multiple orgasms for everyone involved. He had a quick refractive period and supernatural stamina so of course he was going to take advantage of that.

But none of that had happened last night.

The actual sex had lasted a scant few minutes. He hadn’t even been inside her more than five minutes and yet the memory was seared into his head. The phantom warmth of her still around him and the scent of her still tugging on his senses.

And the taste of her.

Fucking hell.

Jungkook had never fed from someone during sex. He just didn’t because drinking from someone , taking their life essence...it just...it was something incredibly intimate. It was important to him. Jungkook hardly ever fed from humans , opting to visit a blood cafe for a drink or a dispensary for a few blood bags when he needed to feed.

But last night.

“Earth to Jeon Jungkook.” Namjoon’s voice pulled him to the present.

He stared at his oldest, dearest friend.

“I slept with Sera.” His voice cracked on the syllables of her name, his tone dripping with regret and Namjoon stiffened.

“You... what? “ He stared at him in disbelief.

Jungkook groaned.

“Fuck... I drank from her too. “ He buried his face into his hands.

“Jungkook, that’s... “

“It was her first time. “ Jungkook looked up at him, eyes wide and helpless and Namjoon’s jaw came unhinged.

“Are you going to tell me you’re the pope next? Because my heart can’t take it...”

Jungkook groaned.

“I’m such a fucking idiot. It was supposed to be a no strings attached thing. “

Namjoon’s gaze softened.

“Dude, a girl’s first time? Of course she’s going to get attached. Did she like confess?”

Jungkook hesitated.

“No. Actually, she just got dressed and left.” He shrugged.

Namjoon frowned.

“Oh, then that’s good right?”

Jungkook felt a little sick. He remembered how empty his bed had felt, after she’d kissed him and slipped back into her clothes and rushed back to sleep in her own bed. He hadn’t even helped clean her up because his limbs had felt a bit like jelly. He’d been punch drunk with the taste of her, his head swimming and his body thrumming and she had practically skipped out of his room, not a care in the world.

Hadn’t even kissed him good bye.

“Yeah. Good. “ He said hoarsely , head pounding .

Namjoon was staring at him .

“What ?!” Jungkook snapped, foul mood returning with a vengeance.

“Oh my God. “ Namjoon began laughing.

Jungkook stared at him...What the fuck was wrong with Namjoon.

“You’re the one who got attached.” Namjoon’s eyes were wide as saucers, his fingers pointed right in Jungkook’s face.

The younger yelped, stepping back.

“No.. I.. what?!”

“You look so upset that she left you after sex... I’ve seen that kicked puppy look before. You wore that same face when Joowon didn’t cry on his first day at school!! ‘ Isn’t he gonna miss me hyung?” You whined... i remember that fucking face Jeon jungkook!!!”

Namjoon was on the floor now, guffawing and clutching his sides.

Jungkook glared at his friend.

“What the fuck...no i did not!!” He swore.

Namjoon merely continued laughing.

“Oh, the sweet sweet taste of karma. Serves you right Jeon Jungkook, considering the hearts you’ve broken over the years.”

Jungkook glared at his friend.

Namjoon had no fucking idea what he was on about. Him? Catch feelings ?

Like hell.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

He couldn’t find her .

And when he realized why he couldn’t find her, he couldn’t believe it.

“What the fuck do you mean she’s gone on a date?” He snapped at Jimin who gave him an unamused look.

“I’m your hyung, you bastard!” The shorter male yelled and next to him his wife rubbed a soothing hand on his shoulder.

“What Jimin means is that, Yugyeom came by earlier when she was getting changed for dinner...”

“He came into the room when she was getting changed?” Jungkook stared in disbelief, “ What the actual fuck...”

Jimin choked and Somi let out a giggle.

“That’s not what I meant. Sera came back to the room after closing up the daycare and Yugyeom texted her.... that he wanted to pick her up for dinner. She agreed and told me to tell you that she’ll be back at around eleven...”

“Where the hell did they go? I need an address.” Jungkook snapped.

Jimin stared at him like he’d spouted latin.

“what?” He gaped.

Somi held a hand up.

“Yugyeom’s an old friend of ours. He took her out for dinner, that’s all. She’s been out with him before ...Don’t worry Jungkook ssi... She’s perfectly safe with him.” Somi said quickly.

Jungkook merely shook his head, glaring at the pair.

“You should know better than to do this. You know how fucking good she smells to vampires. How could you send her out of the estate without security....in the company of a Kim , no less? I am right here... It’s literally my job to be with her at al times.. Its what I’m paid to do.... ..why didn’t you tell me...” He shook his head.

Jimin and Somi exchanged looks.

“You’re certainly very dedicated to ....your job.” Jimin frowned. Somi meanwhile was holding a hand up and giggling behind it.

God, he couldn’t carry on a conversation with two people who acted like literal children.

He had to go find the Chief.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Jungkook blinked.

Once . Twice.

“I’m sorry sir, could you repeat that?” He said sharply.

Chief Hwang gave him a confused look.

“I said , you can stay back today evening and help me with the accounts Jungkook-ah.I do know that Sera’s going for dinner with Yugyeom and well, I really need help with the balancing . I think the gardener has been playing fast and loose with buying germanium seeds and charging them as Lilies . Is he pocketing the difference or is there something else going on...”

Jungkook, who really couldn’t give two fucks about germaniums or Lilies , merely stared at the patriarch of the clan, trying to decide if the older man was joking because how on earth was he supposed to just....

“Let her go on the date alone? Without me?” He asked, his tone screaming that he wasn’t okay with that.

At all.

Chief Hwang hummed.

“Yes of course... I’ve known the boy for two centuries. He’s a good man. “

“You’ve known me for five centuries.” Jungkook reminded him , instinctively.

And then he blinked because why on earth had he said that?

Chief Hwang had an amused look on his face.

“Yes of course. And you’re a very fine young man as well, Jungkook. Too bad you think Sera is like a daughter to you....”

Wait.

What?

Was the older man teasing him? Jungkook could’ve sworn he saw a hint of mischief in the vampire’s eyes.

“Don’t you?” Chief Hwang asked.

“Sir?”

“Don’t you think of her as a daughter, Jungkook-ah.? Isn’t that what you told her?”

Jungkook had the sudden terrible feeling that Sera told her father everything.

“Uh..it was just an expression sir. She’s a good ... friend.” He finished.

Chief Hwang hummed thoughtfully.

“I see. Well, Yugyeom thinks she would make a wonderful mate. “ He shrugged.

Jungkook felt his fists clench.

“I still think I should be there sir... Just to... make sure she’s safe. It’s kind of my job.” He said gruffly.

“Are you sure? Germaniums and Lilies are vastly different and for the gardener to-”

“Sir to be very honest I don’t really care about the damn flowers. Sera needs to be safe and I’m not letting anyone hurt her on my watch. So I’d really appreciate if you tell me where she is....” Jungkook said sharply. His heart was pounding.

Chief Hwang gave him a thoughtful glance, his lips quirking up in a smile.

“ Looks like I’ll be planning a wedding after all.” He chuckled thoughtfully and Jungkook frowned, confused.

“Sir?”

“Let me put you out of your misery, Jungkook ah... She’s having dinner at the Hyatt Resort.... The private conference room on the seventh floor. Yugyeom reserved it for her.” The older man glanced at his watch and smiled, “ There’s a fire work show in exactly half an hour. Sera loves those.... If you leave right now, you can interrupt them right on time. “

Jungkook blushed , blood rushing to his face.

“Sir.. I’m not.. I don’t...want to interrupt.” God, he sounded fake to his own ears.

Chief Hwang waved him off with a laugh. .

“Go on go on..And maybe buy me some patbingsu on your way back..!! “

Jungkook stared.

“Uh yes sir. “

“Good. Close the door on your way out, son.”

Jungkook closed the door, trying to ignore the way warmth flooded his heart at the way the man had addressed him.

Son.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

AUTHOR’S nOTE : a short chapter because I wanted to write something from Jungkook’s point of you...also Chief Hwang playing cupid is my favorite thing ever...

@ladyartemesia @veronawrites @alpaca1612 @bonyg @unseejuice21 @sppvjj @ggukkieland @tae-by-tae @blr1004 @yoongichild @stussyjeon @jellybearo @sumzysworld @carolsummerlove

@bunniechoon

@preciouschimine

Please come scream with me...

#jungkook #jungkook fics #jungkook smut #jungkook fanfic #jungkook vampire au #bts vampire au #bts fics #bts smut #bts fanfics

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p-artsypants · 4 years ago

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Crushed

Stuck under a collapsed building together, Chat Noir and Marinette have a heart to heart.

Ao3 | FF.net

I originally wrote this as a secret santa gift, but it strayed too far from what the giftee wanted, so I did something else. I decided to finish this anyway, and I hope you like it!

—

This akuma attack was not going great. He called himself ‘Bomb Voyage’ (“Like in the Incredibles?” “Yes, Chat. I do believe Hawkmoth ripped that name.”) And he was blowing things up right and left.

When the Lucky Charm bullhorn fell into her hands, she had some sort of plan in the works, but it all fell short at Chat’s shout.

“My Lady! Look out!”

The building right in front of her, mere feet away, exploded suddenly, the only clue being Bomb Voyage’s finger point.

There was no time to run. No time for Chat to scoop her up. Only impending destruction and carnage.

So Chat leapt, his arms wrapping around her head, and tackled her to the ground as the rubble rained down.

It felt like ages of pain before things settled. They both coughed out lungfuls of plaster dust that still hung in the air. It was mostly dark, with a scant bit of light from above.

Chat was squished, but he pushed up on his arms and felt Ladybug move slightly.

“My Lady?” He asked. “Are you alright?”

“My leg hurts. I may have sprained my ankle. How are you?”

“I took a brunt force to the back when the building collapsed. It hurts, but...I can’t really feel my legs.”

“Chat...”

“Though, that could just be bad circulation. I’m in an awkward position.”

Ladybug’s earrings chirped.

“Crap,” she muttered. “I used my lucky charm. Do you think you can cataclysm your way out of here?”

He twisted his neck in an effort to look around, though the dust of the rubble was still thick. He looked towards the light source above them, able to see where it was coming from, but it looked several feet away. “Negative, my lady. I think we might need some outside help for this one.”

She bit her lip nervously. “I don’t hear anymore explosions.”

“That’s good. Right? Maybe Hawkmoth thinks we got crushed and stopped his akuma.”

“Yeah, that’s great…unless he’s got someone waiting to take our Miraculous’ off our corpses when we’re dug out of here.”

“Ever the optimist, hmm?”

“It’s my talent,” she smirked. Her earrings beeped again and she turned her ear toward Chat. “How much time do I have left?”

“Looks like two minutes.”

“Great…”

“I can close my eyes.” He offered. They were basically nose to nose, and her hands where trapped below his arms, so she couldn’t reach up at all.

“I…I don’t know…”

He raised his eyebrows. “You don’t know?”

“We need to find a way out of here,” she switched topics. “Or find a way to contact emergency services to get us out.”

“My baton is still on my back, if you can reach it.”

Ladybug groped around blindly, feeling for the staff.

“That’s my butt.”

“Oh, sorry.” She blushed, and then moved her hand up. Once she found it, she held it out to her side as she could see the screen. “I’m about to detransform, but I have a cookie for Tikki in my purse. As long as it’s still there, she should be able to recharge before they bust us out of here.”

“I didn’t even think about that,” Chat winced.

Ladybug dialed the number.

“112, what’s your emergency?”

“Hello, this is Ladybug and Chat Noir. We’re in a bit of a pickle.”

“How can we help, Ladybug?”

“A building collapsed on us, and we’re pinned and can’t get out. We’re on Rue de Lappe, not far from Bastille.”

“I’ve got your location on my map. I’m sending the fire department your way.”

“Is there any sign of the Akuma?”

“We’ve gotten similar calls about being trapped, but they stopped coming in a few minutes ago.”

“Thank you. I’m going to extend Chat’s Baton out through the rubble so they can find us.”

“Alright, I will pass that information along. Good luck, Ladybug!”

“Thank you!” Carefully, Ladybug aimed the Baton towards the little hole to the surface, and extended the staff, the top breaking through the topside.

“And now...we wait.” Her earrings beeped again.

“So...you don’t want me to close my eyes?” Chat asked for clarification.

“I’ve been thinking...if I’m the guardian, and something happens to Plagg, like he gets sick or something, you need to be able to find me out of the suit, you know? It’s just you and me...”

“Does that mean you want to know my identity?”

She grimaced. “I should but—“

In a flash of pink, Marinette remained, looking sheepishly at him. “...I need a little time to come to terms with this.”

His eyes were impossibly wide, staring at her, drinking her in in the scant light. “Marinette? Marinette Dupain-Cheng?”

“Howdy?” She squeaked.

He squeezed his eyes shut.

“Chat?” She asked, fearfully.

“Sorry,” he whispered. He opened his eyes again, and his lip wobbled. “I just—I’m trying really hard not to cry.” Despite this, a tear fell from his eye and landed on her cheek.

She tried not to cry herself. “Are you that upset?” She whispered.

“Upset?! No! How could I ever—Marinette, I’m thrilled beyond belief! If it was anyone else—“ he clenched his eyes shut again, as more tears started to fall. “I admire you, and trust you, and respect you more than anyone else.”

“Chat...”

He smiled tenderly. “You know, I had hunches. I was almost completely certain until Kwamibuster, too!”

That made her wince again. “Oh Chat, you know I didn’t mean to lie to you...”

“I know, I know, at the time, it was too risky.” He continued to smile, his tears subsiding. “I know this isn’t ideal, but I’m glad I get to see you now.”

“Kinda makes Evillustrator funny, huh?”

He laughed. “You’re right! I forgot about that! Hey! You called yourself cute!”

“I am cute!” She pouted.

“You are cute,” he agreed, taking her in. “I’ve stared at your face a lot, but you look so so different without the mask.”

“It’s the glamour,” she elaborated. “That extra bit of magic that makes it hard to connect the dots.”

“I know how it works,” he smirked.

“Right...sorry, this is just...weird.”

“Good weird?”

“I feel naked.”

“You just say the word, and I’ll get naked with you.”

She threw him an unamused look. “Don’t be gross.”

“Sorry, I can’t help cracking jokes around you. Although, I’m sure you were wishing I was secret mystery boy right now instead, right?” He waggled his eyebrows in an attempt to hide his heartache. “So who is it? It’s Luka, right?”

It was like she had her mask on again, cheeks red as a tomato. “No...it’s not Luka.”

“Oh...aren’t you guys dating?”

“Not anymore. We did, for like a week. If you could even call it dating. He just came over to my house during my downtime, and played his guitar while I worked on commissions and stuff. It was nice and all...but I prefer the piano.” She looked away.

“Piano, hmm?” He smirked. “You know, I’m an excellent piano player...and the real mystery guy is too?”

“You can’t laugh.”

“I would never.”

“I doubt that,” she said flatly.

“I promise, I know you don’t like people shallowly. So whoever it is, I know it’s genuine.” He smiled softly, encouragingly.

Marinette screwed up her lips and admitted, begrudgingly. “Fine. It’s Adrien. Adrien Agreste.”

The sound that Chat let out was not a laugh. But it wasn’t a great sign. It was like a wheeze, but a gurgle.

“What’s wrong?”

“I just...” he blinked several times, trying to convince himself this wasn’t a dream. Ladybug was Marinette! And she had a crush on him! “I...am surprised, is all. I didn’t know you were...close?”

“I sit behind him in class. He’s one of my best friends. Our best friends are dating, so sometimes we end up being third wheels together?”

“Oh. And this is the same guy as before?”

“It’s always been Adrien.”

Chat hoped she couldn’t hear the pounding in his chest. “Oh...even when Glaciator hit? When I found you sad on your balcony?”

“Yep. He was supposed to meet us for ice cream, and he didn’t show...I kind of told Andre that love was bogus, and that’s why he got akumatized.”

Chat laughed at that. “Aww, it’s okay, Marinette. I’m sure he had a good reason for not showing up...”

“I’m used to it,” she said dully. “His father is a huge pain in the ass. I used to respect him, but now...he’s a jerk. He constantly holds Adrien’s freedom ransom to make him do stuff. It kills me! You know when I was in New York?”

“Yeah?”

“I had to beg his father to let him go. It was a class trip, and he was the only one not allowed to go! Just because his father is so concerned with his safety.”

“Can you blame the man? We’re currently trapped under a pile of rumble.”

“But as soon as I’m out, I’ll lucky charm and cure everything! Poof! Sprained ankle gone! Whatever’s wrong with you, gone!”

“What do you think your parents would do if they found out you were Ladybug?”

Marinette thought for a moment, and answered honestly. “Probably be sort of angry, and worried. But I think they would understand. They respect us a lot, even after my dad got akumatized.”

“Don’t remind me.” He groaned.

“What about your parents?” She asked.

“My mom would have been excited. I think. Worried too, but excited for me. But my father...well, he’d rip off my miraculous and make sure I never saw the light of day again.”

“That bad, hm?”

“I’m not exaggerating. I’m in the same boat as Adrien, extremely sheltered.”

“I’m sorry,” she smiled softly. “I didn’t know.”

“I didn’t really want you to know. Chat Noir is supposed to be my safe place, my wild and crazy side. I’m afraid if I start talking about home, I’ll admit things that civilian me doesn’t want to.” He exhaled, his chest bumping with hers. “God, it is just so easy to talk to you. Now more than ever.”

“Really? You know me that well?”

“I know enough. And maybe it’s just because I’ve got you pinned and you can’t go anywhere.”

She laughed at that. “Well, we’ll probably be here for a while. And...I still want you to hide your identity for a while, but if you want to talk about your life a little more, that’s fine.”

“You sure?”

“Yes. It really is time for us to know who each other are, I’m just...not ready.” She huffed, and his bangs fluttered. “This was unavoidable, but let’s plan for your reveal, so I can be emotionally prepared.”

“You won’t be. You will cry.”

“You say that with an awful lot of certainty.”

“Trust me, when you behold me in all of my unmasked glory, you’ll cry.”

“Alright. Can’t wait to prove you wrong.”

He smirked.

“Chat? Are you shivering?”

“Uh…yeah, kinda.”

“Are you cold?”

“Not…not exactly. I’m holding up a lot of rumble so it doesn’t crush you…and I’m pretty claustrophobic.”

“Why didn’t you say anything earlier!?”

He laughed, but it lacked any mirth and was filled with quiet panic. “Uh, just…you know…trying to stay calm.”

“What can I do to help?”

He exhaled shakily. “I don’t know, but talking about it isn’t helping.”

“Okay, well, why don’t you keep eye contact with me, and…let’s just talk.”

“About what?”

“I know you’ve got a whole list of questions you’ve been dying to ask me. Now’s your chance.”

“Damn it!” He nearly shouted. “I had a whole notebook full of questions I wanted to ask you, but it’s at my house!”

“Well, you know where I live, so you can ask me some other time if you want.”

“Deal!” He screwed up his lips. “But first, since you mentioned it, Weredad.”

“Oh god…”

“Why did you say you were in love with me?”

She winced. “To be quite honest, I thought you were going to find out who I was…and the poor excuse just flew out of me before I could think through the consequences. I didn’t think my dad would overhear anything, and I didn’t think you’d show up for brunch.”

“You didn’t think I’d show up? Me? The biggest gentleman in Paris?”

“Okay fine, I hoped you wouldn’t show up.” She rolled her eyes.

“Now that I’m thinking about it, there’s a lot of shenanigans that could have been prevented if—hold the phone, how did you do Multimouse?!”

“Fox miraculous,” she shrugged.

“The Fox! Of course!”

She laughed, his reaction calming her nerves. “I understand what you mean now, it’s easy to talk to you. It’s always easy, but I didn’t notice until you said it.”

He wouldn’t meet her eyes. “You don’t always feel that way.”

“I mean, I get frustrated with your jokes when I’m trying to be serious, but that doesn’t mean—“

“That’s not what I meant.”

“Oh?”

He swallowed thickly. “Civilian me…you…you have a hard time…” He trailed off, not looking at her face.

“Chat?”

“Did you ever tell Adrien? That you…you know?”

She tilted her head at the sudden topic change. “Uh…no. I tried, but it was never meant to be. Every time I did, something would go catastrophically wrong.”

“Like what?”

“Like...I gave him this scarf, right? For his birthday. And I forgot to sign it initially, so I snuck into his house and left a sticky note on it. Somehow, it still managed to go wrong, and he thought it was from his dad.”

Chat stared at her, wide eyed. “And you never told him?”

“No, he was happy believing that it was from his dad. His happiness is all I want.”

It was hard to describe the look on Chat’s face. Almost pained, but still full of love. Like seeing something so precious it brings you to tears. “You did that for him? You really love him that much?”

She looked away, “Unfortunately.”

“Why unfortunately? Is he a jerk?”

“No, not at all. I just…I know he doesn’t love me back. ‘Oh Marinette, you’re such a great friend.’ ‘I’m so glad I have a friend like you.’ ‘Please stay my friend forever!’” She shook her head. “That boy has me firmly friend-zoned.”

He winced, “I’m sure he didn’t mean it like that. He probably really really likes you, and just wants you to know how much he appreciates your friendship.”

“And that’s another reason I can’t confess. He doesn’t have a lot of friends, and I don’t want to ruin our friendship.” She groaned. “I sound so pathetic! It’s so stupid.” She shook her head. “I wish I had your bravery.”

“My bravery isn’t all it’s cracked up to be. It’s gotten me hurt pretty badly, after all.”

“I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he smiled at her softly. “You feel how you feel, and I just hurt myself.” He gnawed at his lip. “Actually…can I ask a really dumb question?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“You don’t have to answer it…actually, no. I shouldn’t ask at all. Nevermind.”

“Well now you have to ask,” she chuckled. “I’m curious.”

He rolled his eyes. “Okay, but don’t hate me.”

She nodded him on.

“Why…why did you go out with Luka if you knew I loved you? Do you also like Luka? Or…are you just that…repulsed by me?”

Marinette’s mouth fell open in quiet shock, and she inhaled some dust. She turned so she wouldn’t cough in his face at least.

“Sorry,” he tried to sooth. “I told you it was stupid. You can date whoever you want…”

She cleared her throat, and then wheezed out. “You just wanted it to be you.”

“…yeah…”

“Chat,” she leaned up to tap her nose against his. “To say I have absolutely no feelings for you would be a lie.”

He looked hopeful. “Really?”

“They’re still developing. But I noticed thoughts I have about you sometimes. Missing you, thinking you’re cute…but Luka was the safer option at the time. I was trying desperately to get over Adrien. Luka and I weren’t really friends first, so if it didn’t work out, it wasn’t a big loss. But with you…” She looked into his eyes, an insurmountable amount of pain and unsaid words just beyond his reach. “I could lose everything.”

“You won’t lose me, My Lady.” He said softly.

“Oh kitty,” she moaned. “I…I never want to lie to you…but there’s something that I haven’t told you. Something I should have a long time ago. I just…don’t like thinking about it.”

“What is it?”

“Chat Blanc.”

At her hesitation, he prodded her on. “What’s a Chat Blanc?”

Her whole face tightened, lips curling into a thin line, eyes squinted hard, and brow furrowed. “It’s…he’s your akumatized self.”

“What?” He breathed. “But I’ve never been akumatized.”

“No, not anymore. You see…Bunnyx helped with it. Somehow, the event of me signing a gift to Adrien triggered a series of events that got you akumatized. I don’t know what the correlation was, but…you knew my name, and you said our love destroyed the world.”

“The world?”

“I hate thinking about it,” she winced again. “The whole of Paris flooded, the Eiffel tower knocked on it’s side, the moon exploded. Everyone, including me and Hawkmoth, turned to dust. You cried when you saw me. You asked me to save you, but you also wanted my earrings, wanting to fix everything yourself. So we fought.”

“I assume you won, if you’re here.”

“Yeah...the Akuma was in your bell. Your all white bell, on your white suit, with your white hair and blue eyes...” she shuttered. “I still see you like that in my nightmares.”

“Why didn’t you tell me earlier?”

“I didn’t want to mention it. I didn’t want to worry you, and I didn’t want to remember. I knew I should have told you sooner, though. I’m sorry.”

“...I understand.” He swallowed and exhaled in a whoosh, all the debris above them shifting. He moaned, ending with a hiss.

“Chat?”

“Sorry, I moved and realized that I’m a little more hurt than I thought.”

“What’s ‘a little more hurt’?”

“Uh…I think I’m…I’ve been impaled?”

“What!?”

“It’s not that bad, the suit took most of the pain. I just…am having a little hard time breathing, and I thought it was from my claustrophobia, but I think something is lodged in me.”

Very carefully, Marinette reached up and felt along his back. A lot of debris was laying flush to his suit, but as she moved her hand around, she noticed he felt wet and sticky.

“Yeah, I think you’re bleeding, kitty.” She said so sadly. She touched where the wound was and he cried out in pain. It was his lower back, by his spine.

“I’m sorry!” She pulled her hand away.

“S’kay,” he hissed out. “God damn, that hurt.”

“I promise, as soon as we get out of here, I’ll magic you right as rain. Just...just hold on, kitty.”

He opened an eye to look at her, still fond through his pain. “Are you panicking?”

“Yes! I was worried when the building collapsed, but now I’m on the verge of pure panic!”

“I must admit, this is not how I expected today to go.” He breathed slowly, the pain subsiding when he held still. “Actually, I didn’t imagine this happening when I found out who you are. You being Marinette is like…the cherry on top of a diarrhea sundae.”

“Do you like cherries?”

“I love cherries.” He whispered. “I got grounded today.”

“Oh.”

“I was having lunch with my father, a rare treat. My friend texted me and I answered without thinking. My father became upset that I would do something so ‘rude’. He said if my friends were more important than him, then he shouldn’t bother eating with me. Then he took my phone.”

“That’s the kind of assholery that I’ve come to expect from Adrien’s dad. You’re in that boat too?”

“Unfortunately, yes. Come to think of it…he’s probably the reason I got akumatized in that other timeline.”

“You think so?”

“It’s a hunch. I don’t often get upset about things, but when I do, it’s usually because of him.” He sighed, ending with a wince. “That’s something I haven’t admitted to myself until now.”

“Kitty...”

“I didn’t mean to bring that up...”

“It’s okay. I’m glad you did. I want to be able to support you where you need it.” She could see that he was spiraling into depression, and quickly sought to remedy that. “What was your daydream like? When you would find out who I was?”

A twitch of a smile took his face. “I knew I would spend a long time staring at you, memorizing what you look like without the mask.” He took a shaky breath. “And I thought, when we decided to share our identities, it would be because you finally fell for me. So there was a kiss. And a lot of roses. It was sappy...but it made me happy to think about it.”

“Can I ask...what it is that you love so much about me? In case you don’t know, there’s a lot of differences between Marinette and Ladybug.”

“I know,” he smiled. “But there’s plenty of similarities. Your strength, for example.”

She laughed. “Chat, Ladybug can throw you across the city. But Marinette couldn’t even lift you.”

“I bet you could! We should test it later! But I meant your strength of heart.”

“You sound like an anime character.”

“Well, it’s important to me.” He blushed. “You aren’t wishy-washy. You don’t cater to the voices around you. You do what’s right. You want justice. Even when akumas and civilians tell us to go or step down, you get up and fight.”

“I do that?”

“Yes. The day you stood up to Hawkmoth, and you promised Paris that you would fight for them until the end? That moment, I said, ‘no matter who that girl is, I love her.’ And even now, it hasn’t stopped. I may even love you more.”

“Chat…” She sniffed. “I…I care about you so much. And I know that if Adrien wasn’t in view, I’d fall for you hard and fast. But I can’t.”

“I know, Marinette. Just knowing…that maybe someday…”

“All the more reason to get rid of Hawkmoth, right?”

He nodded, a tear slipping from his eye and landing on her cheek. “Today sucks.”

“I’m sorry.”

“It’s really not your fault. And I’d much prefer that you were here, under me, than being alone. I’m handling my claustrophobia a lot better because of it.”

“I’d much rather be under you too.”

He gave her a smile, and then snorted with a little blush. “Oh my lady…”

“I thought we were being mature.”

“Me? Mature? Come on.”

“Yeah, I should have known better.”

“You’re beautiful too,” he added. “I’ve always thought so. As Ladybug and Marinette. I saw you with your hair down once, and it’s haunted me ever since.”

“You saw me with my hair down?” She questioned, trying to ignore the hot blush on her cheeks.

“Yeah, it looked really nice on you. I know it’s not practical for crime fighting, but…”

“Maybe for a patrol,” she offered. “When things are calm.”

A smile graced his face as he sighed deeply.

The pile above them shifted, and Chat let out a cry of pain.

“Kitty?”

“This sucks!” He moaned, leaning his forehead down to her face. “Sorry, whatever is in me moved, and I really felt it.”

“Please don’t apologize, Chat. If anything, I should apologize, you took the hit for me!”

“My Lady…you didn’t do anything wrong. If I can help it, I will never let you get hurt.”

She closed her eyes, trying not to cry. “It breaks my heart that you would do that. I don’t want you to be a meat shield, I want you to be my partner.”

“You said it yourself. Once we’re out of here, you’ll do Miraculous Cure and set me right. So I’ll take the hits if I have to.” He sucked in a harsh breath. “Even if it hurts like a bitch.”

With her hands trapped at her sides, she couldn’t reach up and wipe his tears away. So she opted for the next best thing. She leaned up and pressed a kiss to his cheek. “Thank you for protecting me. I know you’re going to say it’s your job, but I really do appreciate how much you look out for me.”

“I love you, Marinette. Of course I’m going to protect you.”

She shook her head slightly. “How can you just say that so casually?”

“Why bother hiding it? You know already. I’m not going to bottle it up.”

“I just…wish I could do that. With Adrien. I wish I could walk right up to him and say, ‘I love you, you magnificent human being’ and crush my lips to his perfect face.”

Chat hid his blushing face in her shoulder. “You should. I bet you’d make his day.”

“Yeah, or he’d freak out, and sue me for sexual harassment, and then I’ll be the laughing stock of the school, no, all of Paris! The whole world, maybe!”

“Do you often catastrophize?” He chuckled. “I’ve heard you do it before.”

“Usually only with Adrien. I just…don’t want to mess things up.”

“I don’t think you will. I know Adrien. He’s a nice boy. He won’t turn you down.”

“You can’t possibly know that.”

“Call me a psychic.”

She scoffed. “Whatever.” Then she shook her head. “Whether or not you’re confident he won’t reject me…I don’t think I’ll ever tell him. I’ve tried to get over him, but I just look at him and melt all over again. I’m sorry Chat.”

He was quiet, his face resting next to her head, cheek against her ear. After a moment of contemplation, he asked, “hey, you like pink, right?”

“Oh? Uh, yeah.”

“I’ll do it tomorrow. A dozen pink roses, maybe some red and white in there too for flavor.”

“You’re doing what tomorrow?”

“I’m going to reveal my identity tomorrow.”

“After all that? What about Adrien?”

“Don’t worry about him right now. I’ve been thinking. If you and I know who each other are, in a crisis, we’d be able to communicate better.”

“What do you mean? What kind of crisis?”

“I’m just trying to imagine what happened with my akuma. If there was a problem with my father or miscommunication, we could better solve it without identities in the way.”

“Okay, yes…” she considered. “But please don’t get your hopes up, okay? I would love to spend time with you out of the suit, but I won’t fall for you instantly.”

“I suppose you’re right. After all, how can I compare to the amazingly handsome Adrien Agreste? Well, he won’t be a problem for much longer.”

She frowned. “You say that like you’re going to kill him.”

He laughed. “No no, Bugaboo,” he said fondly. “Look, everything will make sense tomorrow, I promise…as long as I don’t bleed out down here first.”

“You’re acting really jovial for someone with a mortal flesh wound.”

“Tis a scratch.” He breathed a shuddering breath. “Or so I hope.”

“Ladybug! Chat Noir!” A male voice called from up above.

“Ugh, finally,” Marinette muttered to herself. “We’re down here!” She called.

“We’ll get you out as soon as we can! Any injuries?”

“Chat has a…bit of a scrape.”

“An ambulance is on the way!”

Marinette didn’t want to tell him it didn’t matter. Once she did the cure, he’d be right as rain.

Right?

“Marinette,” Tikki piped up. “I’m all set, whenever you are.”

“Alright. Tikki, Spots on!”

The pink flash only helped the first responders locate them quicker.

“There’s the baton!” His voice sounded closer. The light above was distorted by a rain of plaster, before it was replaced by flashlight light. “Hello?”

“We’re down here!” Ladybug called, moving her arm under Chat.

“Can either of you move?”

“Chat’s pinned, but I might be able to wiggle out, with some help.”

“We’ll get a sling. We might be able to pull you up and out.”

“Once I get my arms free, I should be able to cast the cure and set everything right.”

“Great plan, Ladybug! We’ll have you out in a minute.”

Ladybug nudged Chat’s nose with her own. “I’ll cast it as soon as I’m free. Can you hold out that long?”

“I’ll have a dozen pink roses. And I’ll wear something nice, like a sweater. Or maybe a dress shirt with the sleeves rolled up. I heard the ladies love that.”

“Chat?”

��I’m trying to focus on something else instead of being trapped.” He explained. “Sorry, I might not be very useful for the next few minutes.”

“Okay,” she kissed his cheek. “You do what you have to.”

The fire department lowered a strap attached to a chain into the hole. “If you can maneuver that under your arms, we can pull you out.”

Using Chat’s Baton, Ladybug was able to pull the strap closer. Very slowly and carefully, she wriggled it under her armpits, careful not to jostle Chat in the process.

“Jewelry could be fun. I know she doesn’t like it when I’m extravagant, but surely she would cherish it if I gave her a ring.” He had his eyes shut tight, his brow furrowed.

Ladybug gave Chat a pitiful look.

“Alright, I’m ready!” Ladybug called to the rescue crew.

She was pulled out from under Chat. Though, she had been supporting his lower half, and he sank to the ground as she slid away from him. This jostled the debris violently, and he cried out in horrible, agonizing pain. It was the worst sound she had ever heard.

“Chat!”

He kept howling, sounding like he was being ripped apart from the inside out.

Ladybug pushed on the piles around her, hurrying to get free.

The moment she broke the surface, she called for her Lucky Charm.

It was a rose, and she teary-eyed through it up into the air, and called for the cure.

The explosion of Ladybug’s surrounded her, mending her ankle and silencing Chat’s cries.

She touched down on solid, undisturbed concrete, and turned to find Chat face down on the ground.

“Kitty!” She cried, voice cracking as she rushed to him.

He pushed up on one arm. “I’m okay, My Lady. Just a little winded.”

“Are you sure?”

He stood slowly and stretched. “Yeah. All cured.”

She hugged him. Tight and sure, maybe squeezing a little harder than she should.

“Bug, I can’t breathe.” He chuckled.

“Sorry, I just...”

He hugged her back. “I’m never going to turn down a hug though.”

Her earrings beeped.

“Are you both alright?” Asked the EMT on the scene.

“We’re all better,” Chat assured. “Thank you for your help!” He gathered Ladybug close to him and put an arm around her waist. “We gotta go though!”

Ladybug only had a second to realize what he was doing, before she was lifted off her feet and into the air.

“I can travel myself, you know. I still have time.”

“Sure,” he shrugged.

He carried her all the way to her balcony, before setting her down. Her transformation ran out just as they landed.

“Thanks for the lift, Kitty.” She scratched under his chin. But as she looked in his eyes, she saw tears. “Chat?”

He sniffled and hugged her again. “Just...a sucky day. I wanted to hug you in privacy. I know how you get when people assume things about us.”

“Well, it’s different when you’re getting handsy and when you need comfort from a traumatic experience.”

“I never get handsy,” he argued. “I just like to be close. I’m touch starved.”

“Well, from what you told me today, I believe you.”

He laughed mirthlessly, and pulled away. “I really do feel better now.” He reached up and cupped her face, letting his thumb trail across the apple of her cheek. “No matter how bad this day was, it will never taint the absolute elation of finally seeing you.”

“Chat...” she blushed.

“I must be the luckiest man on Earth. Marinette Dupain-Cheng and Ladybug, all rolled into one. I can’t believe it.”

“Two transformations and you still don’t believe me?”

He smiled. “My brain believes, but my heart never gets so optimistic.” He cast his gaze away. “Even if you...change your mind...” he mused.

“About what?”

“Nothing. Never mind. I’ll just...see you tomorrow. With a dozen pink roses.”

“I’ll get a vase ready.”

He reluctantly pulled away, like tearing himself from her was physically painful. He hopped up on the railing of her balcony, and with a little salute, he hopped into the night.

“I’m proud of you, Marinette.” Said Tikki. “It had to be hard being that honest with him.

“I didn’t really have a choice. I can’t imagine how much worse that experience would have been for him with his eyes closed the whole time.”

“It’s over now. And tomorrow, you’ll know who he is too!”

Marinette whined. “I don’t know if I’m ready for that...”

“It’s a little late for that. What? Are you going to run at the first sight of flowers?”

“I might.”

“It’ll be fine. Marinette, I know who Chat is. And I promise, it’ll all work out fine. Great even. Just, take a shower, and go to bed. Then you can wake up early and mentally prepare yourself.”

Marinette chuckled as she dropped back down into her room. “What would I do without you as a life coach?”

“Sleep through most classes.”

“It was a rhetorical question.”

—

In the morning, with the extra sleep Tikki had urged her to get, Marinette rose and dressed.

Then the nerves turned on.

“What if I just fake sick?”

“Don’t you dare! You’d hurt his feelings!”

“You’re right...but I really do feel like I might throw up.”

“Just relax. You’re going to love this.”

“If you say so...”

After breakfast, Marinette wandered over to school leisurely. Tikki would say she was stalling, but Marinette would disagree and state she was simply taking advantage of being early.

At the front steps, students were gathered. No roses. In the courtyard, teens milled about. No roses. In the locker room, her locker was devoid of anything that wasn’t supposed to be in there.

“Well well well,” said Alya, with too much bravado. “Lookie who’s early!”

“Yuck it up. I was tired and went to bed early last night.”

“You sure you aren’t eager to see Adrien today? He looks pretty cute in that button up.”

In all the confusion surrounding Chat, Marinette had honestly forgotten about Adrien. Her. Forget about Adrien. Perish the thought.

“I mean...it would be a bonus.” She muttered.

“Well, he’s up in the classroom. If you were wondering.”

She wasn’t. Or hadn’t been, until now. But it seemed that Chat wasn’t ready to reveal himself yet, and Marinette still had time to prepare.

She ascended the steps and headed to the classroom.

What she wasn’t expecting, was seeing Adrien standing there, sunlight filtering through the window to make a halo in his hair. He wore a black button up shirt, sleeves rolled up, and had a dozen pink roses in his hands as he talked to Nino.

Dare she hope? Dare she dream?

She just stood in the doorway, staring, before he noticed her.

“Good morning, Marinette.” He smiled at her, looking warm and inviting and…nervous?

“Goo-goo-good morning, Adrien.” She stumbled. She glanced down to the flowers, then up to his face. “Um…those don’t happen to be for me, do they?”

With a twinkle in his eye, he smirked. “Why? Just because something is pink, you think it’s for you?”

She deflated. “Haha, right…that was really forward of me.”

With a pleasant hum, he leaned in and whispered in her ear. “I’m just messing with you, My Lady. These are for you.” He placed the bouquet in her shell-shocked hands.

“My...?” She breathed. The word was just a whisper, barely heard by even him.

His smile was broad and gleeful, squinting his eyes and coloring his cheeks. “Mmm-hmm!!” He hummed eagerly as he nodded.

Marinette had to shut her eyes as a sound like a laugh and a sob burst from her lips. Tears started immediately, and there was no way to stop it.

“I told you you would cry,” he teased.

“You jerk!” She blubbered. Then she tossed the flowers at a confused Nino before throwing her arms around Adrien, and sobbing into his shoulder. “I love you, Kitty.”

He squeezed her back. “Do you really? Because I’m getting mixed signals.”

“You’re awful. You’re wonderful. I’m a mixed bag of emotions. Just hold me.”

“Can do!”

As other students came in, seeing the couple embraced, they gave them thumbs up and congratulatory back pats.

And then Lila entered.

She halted, hid her sneer, and said, “oh no! Marinette! What’s wrong? Why are you crying on Adrien like that?”

He patted Marinette’s hair. “Happy tears, no worries.”

Marinette refused to let Lila ruin this moment. It was far too perfect. Adrien was far too perfect, the flowers, her kitty...

Mustering all her strength, she hooked her arms under his, turned and spun his into a dip.

“My lady?” He breathed, in awe.

“You’re the love of my life. I should have kissed you yesterday. I definitely wanted to.”

“You did?” He smiled drunkenly.

“Yes, like this.” And she slammed her lips to his, kissing him just like she had in her dreams.

Adrien let out a contented little mewl as he tangled his fingers in her hair.

The class went wild with roars and cheers.

Before she could drop him, Marinette righted Adrien. “Sorry, I just...wanted to do that for a while now.”

Adrien nuzzled her cheek with his nose. “Oh don’t worry, Bugaboo. You can smooch me whenever.”

Nino made a gagging sound.

“Oh, well I’m very happy for you guys,” Lila feigned a smile. “But Adrien, are you sure your father will be okay with this?”

Chloe, who had known this was coming since she saw the roses, stood and stalked over. “Okay, you’re done. Bye!”

“Chloe, I’m just trying to be rational...”

“And Adrien is the most deserving person for a happy ending...even if it’s with Dupain-Cheng.” She cast Marinette a glance and rolled her eyes. Then she looked back at Lila. “Though, he could do worse.”

This made Marinette and Adrien giggle.

Lila scoffed. “Fine! Make me the bad guy! But don’t come crying to me when Gabriel tells you to break it off!”

Adrien whispered in his new girlfriend’s ear. “Even if my father makes Adrien and Marinette break up, Ladybug and Chat Noir follow their own rules. It might not be the most fun, but we’ll make it. Then, once I’m 18, I’ll propose.”

Marinette laughed, kissing him swiftly. “Oh my sweet kitty. Let’s take it slow for a little while. We have the rest of our lives to be that insufferable couple.”

Alya, who had come in not that long after Marinette but stood quietly in the door, finally spoke up. “Adrien, I couldn’t bear to tear you away from your Princess. So I’ll take your seat.”

Adrien just grinned in gratitude and hugged Marinette. “This makes that building collapse yesterday totally worth it.”

“Does that mean...you had a crush on me?” She teased.

“No, my Lady, I fell for you.”

#miraculous ladybug #identity reveal #marichat #adrienette #adrien agreste #chat noir #ladybug #marinette dupain cheng #fanfiction #I joined the ML writers discord but like

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jlalafics · 3 years ago

Text

"The Long Weekend"-Part One

Happy belated birthday @keelaree!

Hope you enjoy this first part. Thank you for being such a wonderful part of my writing life, and an even better friend. Can't wait till we can reunite in SF, so we can tea time together and eat soup dumplings.

Love you!

Summary: Two assistants who barely tolerate each other. One snowy cabin. One very long weekend.

Oh, and one bed.

-----

“I’m making the turn now, Haymitch,” Peeta told his boss as he navigated the icy road. “Should have everything prepped and ready by the time you and Effie arrive.”

“Thanks,” Haymitch replied over the speakerphone. “I should tell you that I did ask for someone to help you out. Someone who knows Effie better than I do sometimes—”

Peeta slowed his car as he spotted the cozy cabin in front of him. However, he grimaced seeing the red Jeep already parked on its side.

“You didn’t.”

“Peeta, Katniss knows Effie very well,” his boss said calmly. “Just like you know me. I know that you two don’t get along—”

“Understatement of the year,” Peeta replied as he parked roughly.

“This is important. I’m proposing to Effie and I want it to be perfect,” Haymitch explained. “Katniss knows all the foods she likes to eat, and how to decorate the place to make it comfortable yet romantic. Effie and I are finishing up our meeting with Mr. Snow then we’ll be making our way up to the cabin for the holiday weekend. I’ll call you when we’re on our way so you and Katniss can take off—that is if you haven’t murdered one another by then.”

“I’m only doing this because I’m your assistant,” he called out.

“You could at least like me!” Haymitch joked. “I pay you an obscene amount for an assistant.”

“Katniss probably gets paid more.”

“Well, she picks up tampons for Effie without being asked so probably.”

“Everything will be ready by the time you get here,” Peeta promised. “And I’m doing this because I like and respect you.”

“Thank you, Peeta. Call you soon.”

++++++

Peeta Mellark sighed as he stepped out of his car, bags in hand. The snowy wind picked up and he wrapped his parka tighter around himself before rushing up to the porch. It was getting worse up here, and he hoped that the soon-to-be engaged couple would make it safely.

Getting out the key that Haymitch lent him, Peeta unlocked the door and quickly stepped in to keep the cold air from entering with him.

“Oh, you’re finally here.” Katniss Everdeen sailed into the room, placing a charcuterie board on the coffee table in the center of the sitting room. “I thought you died or something.”

Peeta gave her a wry smile, placing the bags on the floor before shaking off his parka and hanging it on the hook by the door.

“Thought or hoped?” He searched his bag before pulling out the champagne that Haymitch asked along with the two glasses. Going to the table, Peeta placed them on the table before going back to the bag for the champagne bucket. “Is there ice?”

“The fridge has an ice machine,” Katniss informed him tersely, nodding her head towards the left. “I’ve already gotten their dinner started.”

“Not surprised.” Peeta walked into the kitchen, heading to the stainless-steel fridge. “You’re so anal that you’ve probably carved those little radish flowers for garnish.”

“They’re in the fridge so they’ll be fresh.”

Peeta wasn’t sure why they didn’t get along.

For one, Katniss was admittedly attractive with her long dark, and almond-shaped grey eyes. The first time he saw his stomach had definitely done a little flip. She had been walking alongside Effie, notebook in hand, wearing a fitted black dress with a peter pan collar and paying scant attention to anything else around her.

She literally knocked him to the ground.

Katniss had apologized, holding out her hand to help him up.

And Peeta had fucking tingled at her touch.

Over the next few days as he learned the ropes of being Haymitch Abernathy’s assistant, Peeta noticed her across the hall. Effie Trinket’s office was directly adjacent to his boss’ and Katniss’ desk was in the same spot as his.

She kept her head down, never acknowledging him, so wrapped up in her work or answering her phone.

So, Peeta asked around.

“She’s an ice queen,” Cato, who was in Marketing, informed him. “Never wants to hang out with anyone or even join in during happy hour. It’s important here to form relationships with everyone. Panem Industries is all about workplace harmony and Katniss embodies none of that.”

“Yeah, she’s snooty, too,” Clove from IT added. “I once asked her something about her family and she replied that it was none of my business. Like I was just trying to get to know her!”

“Wow. I guess if Katniss is that much of a head case, then I shouldn’t bother to ask her for help,” he told the two.

After that, during any interaction, she treated him indifferently…cold even. Peeta couldn’t help but be disappointed that Cato and Clove’s words were true.

And that was the end of his fascination with Katniss Everdeen.

“You want to get out here and help me or was the ice machine too hard for you to maneuver?” Katniss suddenly called out.

Peeta quickly filled the bucket and stepped out.

Katniss was bent over the couch, arranging the pillows, and he felt a heat rush through his skin.

There was also the slight twinge in his crotch at seeing a firm apple-bottom in tight ski pants.

It seemed that Katniss Everdeen had a bigger effect on him than he realized.

++++++

Peeta Mellark had a huge effect on her.

Katniss struggled to keep the heat off her cheeks as she fixed the pillows that she bought for the cabin. Effie loved those cheesy sayings, so she went on Etsy and ordered custom-made pillows with her favorite quotes.

No one should spend so much time arranging pillows, but Katniss could feel his stare on her. It made her nervous…and tingly.

However, these feelings didn’t belong—especially in a work situation and she needed this job.

Taking a breath, Katniss turned…to find Peeta right behind her.

He jumped back, startled by her abrupt movements.

Whoa—was he checking her out?

“Why were you so close?” she blurted out.

“Sorry. It looked like you were confused about how pillows worked,” he replied, rolling his eyes. “You were there for a millennium.”

“Funny.” She sighed at the amusement in his gorgeous blue eyes—stop it!—and steeled her expression. “Do you think you could help me set up this romantic dinner for our bosses instead of standing there like an ass-licker?”

“You mean asshole.”

“I stand by my words,” Katniss replied and was surprised when he chuckled, his eyes crinkling as he did. She couldn’t help but let her mouth rise. “The table is in that closet next to the door. I got some table linens from a vintage shop that Effie likes last week.”

“Wow, you’re really on top of it,” Peeta remarked, going to the closet. “How do you have time for a life?”

She didn’t.

As in, Katniss didn’t have a life.

She had work, she had a home, but a social life was non-existent. Katniss knew what everyone said about her; that she was cold and distant, never wanting to be part of the team. It never bothered her because she did have her reasons.

So, she was surprised at how hurt she was when she heard Peeta call her a headcase.

Katniss hadn’t meant to eavesdrop, only passing the breakroom to get to the copy machine. However, she stopped at the mention of her name.

Cato’s words were no surprise, though he failed to mention that her iciness was due to him inappropriately putting his arm around her and telling her that they should get to know each other on a personal level. Katniss also didn’t trust Clove for shit; she was the office gossip.

It hit hard to know that the one person who had made her tingle was so easily influenced by two douchebags.

Katniss had decided, then and there, that if Peeta didn’t see past her exterior, then he must be like the rest of them.

“I’m very organized,” she replied. It came out harder than she intended. “I have to be.”

Peeta had already set up the table in front of the fireplace.

“Well, it’s in your favor,” he told her. “You’re a good assistant.”

Katniss looked up in surprise. “You think I’m a good assistant?”

Peeta snorted. “Like you didn’t know it—where are the tablecloths?”

She handed him a beautiful fuchsia tablecloth followed by a cream lace one.

“Fuchsia first then layer it with the lace,” she told him. “I always hope I am. Effie is a great boss and she’s so supportive about work-and-homelife balance. I want to make sure this is all perfect for her.”

Katniss helped Peeta straighten the cloth, smoothing it down and making sure that there were no wrinkles. They settled into a light conversation about working with their respective bosses while setting the rest of the table. While Peeta worked on the place settings, he told her about how he admired Haymitch’s down-to-earth attitude despite being one of the most successful people in the company.

She arranged the florals in the center of the table while telling him how she had worked two jobs prior to getting this one.

“I was a waitress and housekeeper before this,” she revealed. “I was working a crazy lunch rush when I met Effie. We got to talking because she noticed how I met her coffee exactly the way she liked it despite my ragged expression—her words not mine. Effie kept on coming in, and a month after we met, she offered me the assistant job. Said she like my gumption.”

“That’s really cool,” Peeta said. He set down one of the forks he was cleaning and met her eyes. “You know, this is the first time we’ve really talked. I kind of believed you thought of me as your enemy.”

“I thought the same thing.” Katniss placed a folded napkin on the plate in front of her. “You called me a head case.”

His blue eyes widened, shocked at her words. Slowly, she could see in his eyes, the memory of his words.

“I didn’t know you heard that,” he said quietly. “I didn’t mean it and I’m sorry.”

“It’s fine!” Katniss stood up abruptly. The pain of his words churned in her stomach. “I know that everyone talks about me. In my defense, Cato was completely inappropriate when we first met. I thought acting like a bitch would stave him off. Clove has no filter—”

Peeta’s brows furrowed at her sudden coldness.

“I realize that now—one year later…is that why you completely ignore me? Why you act like the sight of me makes you sick?”

“I do not!” Katniss cried out into the room. “You avoid me at all costs!”

“Because the one time that I attempted to ask you a question—you brushed me aside!” he shouted. “If you had bothered to talk to me, I wouldn’t have believed what people said in the first place—” Peeta’s phone rang, and he quickly picked up, seeing his boss’ face on his screen. “Haymitch? You on your way? What? No, I haven’t looked outside—”

Katniss rushed to one of the front windows, pulling back the curtain.

White everywhere.

She couldn’t even see her car and it was bright fucking red!

“They’re not coming.”

Turning, Katniss found Peeta putting his phone in his pocket as he approached.

“The snowstorm came unexpectedly, and the roads are blocked. They’re staying at Effie’s to wait it out while we…are stuck here until it passes.”

++++++

The good thing was that the house was fully equipped. Food was stocked in the fridge since the couple had planned to stay for the long weekend. Both he and Katniss had even brought Haymitch and Effie’s luggage so there had clothing.

“Well, dinner must be ready,” Katniss informed him with a sigh. “If you want to get more comfortable, you can probably change to something of Haymitch’s. I have a call to make before my phone dies and then I’ll pull the food out of the oven.”

Peeta nodded numbly, grabbing Haymitch's duffle and going to the opposite open door where the bedroom was. He tossed the bag on the bed—

The one bed.

Turning, he rushed out of the room to look for his female counterpart. “Katniss!” He found the sitting room empty and headed into the kitchen.

“Yes, I’ll be fine,” she spoke quietly into the phone. “Just be nice to Johanna, okay? I’ll be home soon.” Her voice sounded completely different, light and happy—even affectionate. “I love you, too. Good night.”

He knocked on the archway and she turned to him.

“We have a problem,” he told her. “There’s only one bed.”

“And the couch is really just a loveseat,” Katniss mused as she pulled the food—steak with roasted asparagus and potatoes. Her expression was pained, and she blew out a breath. “I don’t really want to think about this right now. Why don’t we just eat?”

Peeta quickly nodded in agreement, rushing to the sitting room, and grabbing their plates.

“Why don’t you let me set this up?” he told her, seeing how frazzled she seemed. “Have a seat. Open the champagne—”

Katniss laughed and the sound of her lightened the load on his chest.

“You trying to get me drunk, Mellark?”

Peeta smirked. “If it makes you like me, then yes.”

“Fine, fine…” Katniss sauntered off towards the doorway. She stopped at the archway and their eyes met. Her gaze was nervous, but he could see the warmth in her greys. “You’re not my enemy, Peeta. And…I like you more than you think.”

Katniss disappeared, but not before he spied the blush on her cheeks.

Peeta felt another twinge. This time—in his chest.

++++++

Instead of sitting at the table, Katniss grabbed Effie’s luggage, a classic Louis Vuitton that cost more than her old Jeep, and brought it to the bedroom.

The one bedroom. With the one bed.

A sudden image of herself spooned contentedly against Peeta in that very bed rose in her mind—

“Stop tripping off him!” she chided herself.

Distractedly, Katniss opened the bag, sorting for something remotely comfortable in her boss’ luggage. However, it looked like Effie was expecting some sort of kinky weekend. The only sleepwear she had was a tiny red number that Katniss would probably bust out of; Effie was a tiny but fierce woman.

Maybe she could borrow something from Haymitch’s pile—

“Katniss?”

“I’m coming!” she called out before stuffing Effie’s lingerie back into the back.

Walking back into the room, Katniss saw that Peeta had already placed the plates on the table. He stood waiting for her, looking obnoxiously handsome as he had the day they met.

That first time, she had knocked him to the ground so caught up in following with Effie’s rapid pace. When Katniss held out her hand to him, she was caught up in the open smile he gave her. Then it was the gold waves along his forehead, which Katniss desperately wanted to brush back and the blue of his eyes—they had a tinge of grey in them.

For a moment, she was just a girl, and he was just a boy. Peeta didn’t know anything about the rumors of her iciness or how someone like her, with no college degree, managed to get a position like hers.

In that moment, Katniss was pure.

“You alright?” Peeta asked, interrupting her moment down memory lane.

“Yes.” She let him help her into her seat. “I was just thinking about something.”

“Was it the one bed thing?” he joked. “I’m fine with sleeping on the floor—”

Katniss held her hand up. “Let’s be grownups. It’s a big bed and we can put a pillow between us.”

“Very to the point,” Peeta replied, holding up his champagne glass. “To being grown-ups.”

“To being grown-ups.” She clinked her glass to his and took a full gulp. The liquid bubbled through her, making her laugh. “Wow, that’s some good shit.”

Peeta guffawed. “We’re going to have some fun.”

END OF PART ONE

#Happy birthday keelaree!#The Long Weekend #Everlark #everlark fanfiction #there was only one bed

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bxebxee · 4 years ago

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What I have to say: This is really not what I typically write, but please allow me my self-indulgence. Also, I am rusty and unpracticed, but this made me happy to write.

What this is: Yoongi has gone through twenty-seven phone numbers over the last ten years, and you haven’t changed yours since high school.

What this wants to be: Romance

What this warrants: Rated R for Rotten Relationships (and other things)

You hold your sister’s new baby reverently. The baby is so small, and you’re scared that your bad morals would somehow seep into the skin through contact diffusion.

“I feel like I’m already the irresponsible aunt,” you whisper, shooting your sister a terrified look. The baby isn’t even sleeping, but what if your bellowing voice would upset him. “Are you sure-”

“Yes,” she says firmly, “You’ll be a good godparent. There’s literally nothing to do except spoil your nephew every now and again.” She pauses, a thoughtful look crossing her face. “Unless we die. Then I guess you’d have to be more of a parental figure...”

You and your brother-in-law interject at the same time in a cacophony of protest.

“Okay, we are not dying,” he sighs as your octave increases by a half-step, “Please do not say that as I hold your offspring in my arms. I can’t feel them by the way. Seokjin, can you take him? I don’t want to drop him.”

Seokjin takes the baby, and you feel bereft of warmth. It’s a weird feeling to note that considering your firm No Babies Policy. You miss the baby already. This is witchcraft.

“It’s just a fucking hypothetical, relax,” your sister laughs, her eyes softening considerably as she sees Seokjin coo over his son.

“If our baby’s first word is ‘fuck’ I am not taking responsibility,” Seokjin says mildly, eyes never leaving his baby. You don’t really blame him.

“And you’re not blaming me either. I’ve been good,” you say.

“Oh please, everyone curses younger these days anyway. I’d rather my son know than not know, you know?”

“You’re pushing it,” Seokjin warns.

“You’re such a dad,” she scoffs.

“And you like it,” he counters.

“Yeah,” she admits. “Yeah, I do.”

You check your phone for the time, and it’s thirty minutes before the official start of the baby gathering. Time for you to leave.

“Hey, it was good to see you guys. And the baby,” you tell them, hugging both lightly so as not to disturb the tenderness of the moment. Bear hugs were for a different day. “I have to head out, but I’ll come visit a lot, okay? I’ll even babysit. For free.”

“Not staying for lunch?” your sister asks, looking very sad and disappointed, but you steel your heart. The two of you have inherited your mother’s knack of guilt-inducing looks, and you’re not about to fall for it.

“Not today, no.”

Seokjin nods, bidding you to take care. He knows why you want to leave before the crowd gets too heavy.

Unfortunately for you, cosmic luck was not on your side because as soon as the front door shuts behind you, the elevator dings and Yoongi steps out, clad head to toe in celebrity black and holding five Burberry shopping bags. There’s no one around, so you don’t particularly feel the need to stand on the niceties of greetings and choose instead to brush past him in favor of the elevator.

“And hello to you too.” he remarks sarcastically.

“Go to hell,” you reply, wishing that you didn’t have to be in a close fucking hallway because you could smell his cologne.

“Oh come on-”

You press on the close door button rapidly, and the doors shut out Yoongi with a soft, muted click.

Twelve hours later, you get a text from an unknown number. Coward is all it said. You stare at your phone screen in bed, seeing typing bubbles start and stop and start and stop. Mister Unknown Number finally settles on silence because nothing follows after the one-word epithet.

It feels like a dare.

Yoongi finally puts his phone down. You were too smart and too self-respecting to try this all over again with him, and he wants to kick himself for ever thinking that goading you would work when you were clearly over him-

His phone vibrates intensely and consistently. You’re calling him.

“Hello,” Yoongi says, picking up the phone after just a single ring. Desperate, to be sure, but he wasn’t positive you’d wait for five rings anyway.

“You changed your number again,” you say without preamble.

“I’ve actually had this number for two years now,” Yoongi says. “Been getting hacked less and less. Guess you never saved the number.”

“Why would I?” you ask, petulance peppering every syllable of your words.

“Why didn’t you stay for the luncheon?” he asks instead of answering your question.

“And sit in a room with you for a couple of hours pretending everything’s normal? No thanks,” you scoff. “And luncheon? Really?”

“You missed out on the shrimp toast.”

“I think I’ll live.”

“So why’d you call?”

You could take the easy way out. Save your pride and your face, and pretend that you still don’t carry a torch for Yoongi. You could lie and say you just wanted to call and make sure it really was him. But you were always a glutton for pain, and he was all too happy to oblige to your needs.

“You wanna come over?” you offer, not feeling an ounce of trepidation that he’d reject you. Yoongi always came when you asked.

“Where do you live?”

“It’s the same place as last time.” It’s a test. Let’s see if he even remembers my address-

“Be there in thirty.”

He’s late by a few minutes, but Yoongi explains through interrupted kisses and hasty undressing that there was traffic, and he showered-

“You could have showered here, you know,” you mutter, pawing at his dick and biting down on the juncture between his neck and shoulder. Yoongi always like a little pain.

“I’ll shower here after.” (After he fucked you at least twice, minimum. After he got to see you naked and temporarily his. After he was somewhat satisfied but much too sweaty for sleep.)

And then it’s No Talking Time for a short while because he has your face occupied with inhaling scant oxygen against the mattress while his own head was buried between your asscheeks and legs, lapping and sucking at you like he had something to prove. Could this count as some form of asphyxiation? Probably. You don’t expect his mouth to make you feel close to losing control. The act had always unnerved you, but you found yourself uncaring of past discomforts and losing yourself into the feeling of soft, insistent lips.

Yoongi eats you out with soft grunts, hands holding your thighs apart and firm. Don’t move, his hands say. His tongue up your cunt isn’t any sort of giving on Yoongi’s part; this was all selfish. He wants you to cum and feel starstruck and ruined, wants you to get it through your head that your flesh craved his flesh in the same animalistic way he needed you.

You turn your head around just enough to be able to get out, “You can sto-”

But he silences you with a warning slap on the ass. You are not to be deterred.

“Stop with the tongue,” you order.

“You’re insane,” he hisses, pulling away and shamelessly licking his lips. “You can’t ever just let me-”

“Put it in now,” you demand.

Yoongi lets out a terse sigh. “I should just leave right now,” he grumbles, getting up on his knees to rub his dick against you and nudges the head on your opening. “I shouldn’t be here.” He presses inside at “here” and wrenches a moan from your lips.

“Then leave,” you sigh, pressing your ass back against him, relishing in the feeling of being filled again by Yoongi. “Just go home and jerk off instead. That’s what you’re good at, right? Leaving me?”

“You’re a bitch for bringing that up during sex,” Yoongi says, fucking into you steadily and slowly, resisting the urge to pound into you like his baser instincts demanded. He was going to enjoy you for as long as he wanted. He knew you wanted it rough and bordering on violent, but he wasn’t going to add more ammo to your already large arsenal of Reasons To Hate Min Yoongi.

Yoongi leans over completely, letting his torso lay flush against your back, unbothered by your sweat as it mixed with his own. You were going to feel every last inch of him inside and out. He pumps in and out slowly, sucking on your neck and breathing into your hair with audible moans of enjoyment.

“I’m not leaving,” he groans, reaching over to rub your lower stomach gently, as if comforting you. The intimacy of this wasn’t lost on you, but you can’t find the words to tell him off. You missed his heat and the familiar weight. You are only human, after all.

Yoongi threads his fingers through your unkempt hair, stroking gently before balling his fists into a pronounced grip. He turns your head to the side and kisses you, your neck straining from the awkward, uncomfortable position. But it reminds you of the beginning - of the before times when things were easier in the shadows of his success and unavailability.

It’s impossible not to feel things when he fucks you this way, and kisses you, and moans soft nothings into your ear like you’re the only woman he’s ever done this with. You are atrocious at protecting your heart, and even after two years of icing him out, Yoongi barges into you like it’s nothing.

“Don’t stop,” you moan, heart thumping against your chest. You really, really can’t stand to want him so much.

“I won’t,” Yoongi reassures, kissing the corner of your eye. He doesn’t speed up, and instead chooses to test the limits of your patience with languorous but firm strokes. “Not until you tell me to.”

There was nothing that compared to this - not heated fucks with attractive strangers, or money, or getting crossfaded by the Han River. When Yoongi did this to you, you almost felt like he loved you.

Yoongi sleeps silently besides you in the sunlight, completely worn out after an emotionally exhausting round of sex that made him cry when he came inside you. He’s usually sensitive to the light, but he’s out cold and completely drained. You hadn’t expected that part - the crying. You thought it was just sweat until you heard rattling breaths and a hiccup.

You watch him breathe silently from your place in his arms, unwilling to leave the small cocoon of warmth. You’re the opposite of him, and right now, you’re wired. You’ll probably end up crashing sometime later in the day, but for right now, you’re content to just watch him sleep in your bed, on your pillows, smelling like your body wash.

You’re too old to be scared, and yet this moment fills you with dread; that once the spell of sex and yearning was broken, everything would tilt back to its regular axis, and you’d be all alone again. If you were younger, you might have up and left already. Leave him before he leaves you. And it’s not like you haven’t done that before. Your entire relationship with Yoongi is always filled with one person leaving behind the other one because nothing about the two of you ever lined up properly.

But this time, you’re too tired to run away. So you close your eyes and pretend to sleep until it finally comes to claim you.

#bxebxee comeback season #lol jk #drafts #yoongi scenarios #yoongi fanfic #yoongi smut #yes its vague #yes it can be about anyone #but i just have a lot of thoughts and feelings and maybe i'll have another part

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johobi · 5 years ago

Text

Falling, Falling, Gone

Word count: 5.8k

Pairing: Taehyung x Reader

Warnings: None really, it’s my first ‘SFW’ fic, though there is some extremely bad language in here. And there might be an erection because I can’t help myself.

A/N: This is the fourth and final ‘drabble’ for the drabble game I ran ages ago. Prompt: “The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you.”

Music inspo: Don’t Be So Serious, Baby Don’t Stop, Waste It On Me

AO3 link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23477485

Taehyung. Captain of the soccer team. Master of your heart. You'll never tell him for fear of rejection.

So why the fuck are you about to do it in front of dozens of his peers?

Banana and peanut butter become pulp in your mouth as you glare out the kitchen window. It's so grey out there. Greyer than it has any right to be. As if your dour mood has polluted the very atmosphere. Rain lashes the exterior in leaden pellets, each one compounding your headache like a rap on the head. Don't be so serious, your bluetooth speaker croons as you chew and chew, unblinking. The bridge of your glasses slip further down your nose but you don’t correct them. Don't be so serious.

Oh, but it's all so serious.

Your final portfolio lacks in ways your mentor is incapable of articulating, and you only have so much time to fix it. Your college life is coming to a close. There are frighteningly few opportunities out there and they’re sure to spurn a sham like you. What do you do now? Where do you go from here—

"God, you listen to such depressing music," a husky voice sounds. It’s thick with sleep and horribly attractive. You hear his feet next; big and bare as they slap the tile floor and disrupt the ambience.

Yes, dismal is an ambience.

Before you glimpse the interloper himself, his fingers pilfer your next mouthful of toast. His other hand has your phone and is skipping through your carefully curated playlist of moody tunes. With all the scant energy you can muster, you glower at him.

“Taehyung.”

Soccer captain. Campus celebrity. Doofus.

Unlikely friend and unlikelier crush. But life is strange, and he is both these things. Indeed, he proclaims himself your best friend to all who will listen. As for the matter of your tender feelings, however, he is oblivious. And will remain so.

Taehyung is long-legged and limber-bodied, but round of face and feature. A kitten in a tiger’s pelt. Will mew for affection and roar when angry. Has quite literally nudged your hand for pets and raged at referees in the same afternoon. There is usually no in-between.

Your scowl goes unseen. He sidles past like the oblivious buffoon he is and continues to tamper with Spotify. Smears his peanut-buttered thumb around your phone display. Ugh. You brush back your hood and fix him again with extra scorn.

"Actually, douchebag, it’s good music for thinking. And I have a headache. I hardly wanna listen to something like—no, don't you dare put fucking Party Rock on right now. Tae!"

It’s too late. The lanky idiot is already gesticulating to the beginning beats. Your phone is an unreachable hostage in his flapping hands. You’re about to lunge for it but he preempts the attack by smothering you with your own hood. “Tae.” Your whining sounds all the more pitiful muffled. “Everyfing hurfs. ‘m hungover. Pleathe.”

Taehyung relents after further, strangled pleas. Unwraps you with a grin that grows like the sunrise. For a moment, you’re dazzled. “Sorry. No more torture,” he chuckles all low, hair in his eyes. His locks are long and always untamed. An aureate crown befitting of his celebrity status.

One swipe and he’s muted the racket and returned your phone. You turn the sticky thing over in your hands, rueing the day you met the overgrown imp. “How did you get it this dirty…?”

You go ignored and Taehyung gets closer. He scrutinises your hunched and hoodied appearance with a thoughtful hum. “Headache?” A rounded nose and two brown eyes come into focus. "Hungover? How? I didn't see you go out last night."

Averse to such study, you shy away. "Well, I did." You did not. You stayed home and guzzled $4 Prosecco while lamenting your trash portfolio. But you aren’t about to regale him with that pitiful tale. The sheerness of shame prevents you. Taehyung would be so sweet about it, too! So buoying, with his sunny smiles and fervent encouragement: "Why were you crying over that?!" He'd ask. "Your work is amazing. Seriously amazing. I love everything you do!" He'd gush. "People will be stumbling over themselves to hire you!" He'd continue, naively. And that hurts the most, because he just doesn't get it. Taehyung is a sponsored, collegiate athlete that's graduating into a guaranteed draft. He is—and always has been—praised widely as up-and-coming. The kid has had scouts scrapping for him mid-way through high school!

You, however, are small fry, swimming in a shoal of other unknowns, leaping for the hook of internship. Your dreams of animating for Disney died long back. They dwelled with Walt now.

But you don’t resent Taehyung for any of it. Ever. He’s a paragon. Born for the limelight. Has sweat and bled oceans for it. And for some reason he insists that you, too, are deserving of that same renown. Why? He’s ridiculous. Far too kind. And—Christ, he has a big dick.

"Taehyung, can you please not shove your tiny fucking penis in my face while I'm trying to eat? I'm nauseous enough as it is."

The soccer captain rests a foot on the seat next to you, giving you ungainly insight into his crotch. Taehyung, as he often, inexplicably is, is clad only in his boxer-briefs. This would be alarming were it not so goddamn commonplace. He is allergic to clothes.

According to him, he’s a naturist.

According to you, he’s an attention whore.

Taehyung points to his elevated foot, but it's a little difficult to ignore the bulge he's brandishing. "Do you understand the concept of inappropriate proximity and your current state of undress?" You rattle on, words slurred half by OJ, half by fluster. He simply points again, and with more insistence. Relenting, you follow the line of his finger to his pretty, if gigantic, foot. Then notice the ink around his ankle, black and fresh. "Oh, wow, you got a tattoo? Cool!"

"Yep! I didn't ever really think about getting one 'til I saw yours. They were so cool I became kinda obsessed with getting one. So I finally did it last night."

‘Til he saw yours? Your stomach flutters. It's not the nausea. You smother it with more orange juice. "Well, that's awesome, Tae. You'll probably want more eventually. I would've gone with you if I'd known you were gonna go alone."

Finally, he lowers his leg. It’s a small mercy. But then, for no discernible, earthly reason, Taehyung begins flexing his many defined muscles. His calves in particular catch your attention. They’re so goddamned thick. They ripple. Fucking soccer players. "Hm? Oh, I wasn't alone. I went with some guys from the team." He ogles his reflection in the microwave door.

How can you avert your eyes when his pecs dance so compellingly? It all becomes a bit too much. "Okay, what are you doing? Seriously, what? I know you're into yourself, but this is ridiculous.” He stops. Snorts. Thank God. “If you were with the guys, why did you come back here last night? I thought you’d go back to your dorm."

Finally Taehyung sits, but he’s spread-legged and that’s perhaps worse than what he was doing just now. He’s 6ft of pure, hewn sex and just so fucking casual about it. He reclines. "Some of them took girls home last night so I needed somewhere to go and you're always an open door." Finger guns follow a cheesy wink.

You scoff, but he's right. You’d do anything for the big-hearted clown. Open door? You'd be the doormat under his soccer cleats, licking them free of dirt— "You're lucky Areum isn’t here right now. Don't think she’d take kindly to having some almost-naked oaf clambering into her bed."

"You say that, but she’s tried to hit this several times.” Taehyung is smug, brows high on his forehead. Yours lower harshly. “Tell her I slept in her bed last night. She’ll cream herself thinking about it later, I guarantee you."

“You’re gross. And can you stop—why do you keep flexing? There’s just me here.” You peer about for emphasis. Taehyung is again admiring his form in some burnished surface. “No-one is looking. Or cares.” Contrarily, you’re doing both those things. But he needn’t be privy to that.

"This is serious. I need to work on my angles.” He contorts himself into something of a pretzel to peek at his back muscles. “We're holding a hook-up auction at our dorm to raise money for a graduation blow-out. And I'm on sale. Do you think I need to work on my back?"

You ease into a squint. "When you said serious, I thought serious words were about to follow."

"I am being serious!" Again Taehyung flexes, biceps bulging by his ears like an overfed turkey’s thighs. "How much do you think I'm worth?"

The world.

"I dunno. I'd take you for free, I guess, if you were the last one left."

Taehyung is unperturbed by your acerbic wit. It ricochets off him like rubber bullets would a muscle-bound ox. He is your greatest adversary. The bastard lacquers his lips until they’re plump and glossy and boasting a smirk.

He’s always doing this.

Always moistening himself.

"Oh yeah? Well, I think you'll be disappointed." A boxy smile emerges. "I got girls and guys already approaching me about it. Some of the guys literally just wanna buy me for mentoring. I mean, that’s more effort than kissing, but—" He shrugs. The thought goes unfinished.

"That makes sense. You are a God among these mere mortals, Taetae." It's not sarcasm this time. Taehyung senses it. The grin he returns is life-affirming. You're so close to reaching across the table and squeezing his hand. Telling him you're proud. Telling him you most likely, maybe, love him. But you notice you've dragged your sleeve through peanut butter—”Ah, shit,”—and you can tell him how you feel some other day.

Some other day.

"Some of them just wanna make out too, of course, and, like, I'm happy to comply. It's all for charity." His altruism knows no limits.

"Charity, huh?" You snort. Taehyung's mouth grows more square at your incredulity. "Who else is up for bidding, then?"

"Mostly guys from the team and dorm. There are some mutuals who just wanna get in on the action, too. Uh, you know Kim Namjoon?" He measures your reaction. When you give none: "Jeon Jungkook?"

Disinterest mellows your features. "Oh, right. Cool."

"So you don't like Jeon Jungkook?" Taehyung's eyes are eager, his body poised. Anticipating.

"What? No. What gave you that idea? I've talked to him, like, twice." Your face crumples as you towel your soiled sleeve. The peanut butter smears into a tragic, shit-brown stain. "Damn, that's never coming out."

"He's gonna be so disappointed. He might even cry." Taehyung heaves a hammy sigh and clutches at his breast. There’s nothing the captain enjoys more than clowning his subordinates. "Kook likes you so much. He's really into your whole androgynous fuckboi thing you got going on. He literally said, 'She's like a mystery, man. I'm not sure if she's a girl or a guy and—like, I'm not like that, but that's hot.'"

If your eyes could roll past the bounds of their sockets, they would. "Wow, what a poet. He sounds like a douchebag and I'm even less interested now. Fuckboi? Is that really the vibe I give off?" You don't fuck full stop. Nor were you aware you could dress like you do.

"I dunno. You just seem kinda like a gremlin to me. Or like that weird guy from Death Note," Taehyung is quick to reassure you. Cool. You’re fucking overjoyed that he perceives you that way. Not as a goddess, or his beautiful, sexy soulmate, or the princess that wanders the spires of his captive heart. No. A gremlin. Or L.

"Well, you got me there, son."

"What about Kim Namjoon?" Taehyung presses, urgent again. He picks at your bread crusts with one hand, head cradled delicately in the other. The boy could be a world-class model, too. His loose, dark curls hang like a Van Gogh nightscape, framing the planes of his unmarred face. It hurts to look at him. It hurts to be looked at.

A self-conscious shuffle. "What about him? I don't know who that is." You flick away his foraging fingers but he draws you into an impromptu game of thumb-war in retaliation. It's the only thing to extract a smile from you today.

Taehyung looks sceptical. "He's the physio student with our team! You literally talked to him all day during this season's semi-final." His lengthy digits best yours easily. But though the match is won, he doesn’t withdraw his hand. Instead he encroaches further. Thumbs your wrist. Encompasses your knuckles in a soft, warm palm. He’s clasping you like an enamoured suitor might their bashful sweetheart, and it’s very strange. What is he doing? His mind looks to be elsewhere, now.

"Uh...—oh. Oh." Yours ambles back to you. "Yeah, he was really nice, but you know my rule. No—"

"—dating in final year. Yeah, I know. I'll tell him that if he asks about you again." Taehyung has returned, too. His hand is gone. Your gooseflesh ebbs with it.

With a cough, you sober. "I think the auction's a bit stupid, really, Tae. You sure you wanna do it?"

"Stupid? Why?" He shimmies in close, smug on his face and intolerably naked the rest of the way down. His skin is hot and golden and just far too close. "You're only saying that because you're jealous, right?" He tickles your chin to keep you honest and your eyes on him. You seize and squeeze the offending hand because he might be right and now you’re embarrassed. "The thought of me making out with someone else is ruining you," he goes on to say, brazen as the smirk defiling his cherubic cheeks.

"Some rather large conclusion-jumping going on there," you smile, sweet as sugared cyanide. Your vice-grip tightens until he’s pouting in repentance. "I meant it's stupid to put yourself in a potentially uncomfortable situation if you don't want to kiss that person."

"I'm just joking!" he whimpers like the overlarge puppy he is and you free him of his snare. Because you would die for this big, soppy boy and his big, soppy eyes. “You’re so grouchy today.”

‘The joke won’t land if it collides with the truth, Taehyung,’ you muse. You expect him to know this despite never having apprised him of your situation. You’re jealous and cowardly and completely unreasonable. You want him for yourself but you never want him to know that.

If he wants your candour he should be a telepath. Simple.

Irritated by your own nonsense, you lash out at the unsuspecting boy. "You know what? I was joking, too. I remember Namjoon, he was hot. And smart. I think I'll cheat on my dating ban this once and bid on him. He has super nice lips, so."

Taehyung simply smiles. "Oh, okay. Cool! Glad you’re gonna come along."

Your threat proves ineffective because he doesn’t like you like that. Wouldn’t give a shit if Namjoon rawed you on stage while you stared him down. You stall on that thought because it’s kinda hot. “It’ll be great. Can’t wait to get my tongue down his throat.”

“Hell yeah! I knew you liked him.”

Yep, Taehyung is oblivious to your pining. As he should be. Because outwardly, your pining consists of nothing more than the odd, lingering look here and there. The balled-up sketches of him he will never see. A secret smile if you’re feeling particularly sentimental. Other than that, you're steely. Poker-faced. Rarely blind-sided by his allure, especially now that you've acclimated to his penchant for exhibitionism.

"Thank you in advance for your patronage." Rising from his seat, Taehyung comes to a stand behind you and leans. Encircles your shoulders with his terribly athletic arms and puts his lips to your ear. You're like a feral cat in the arms of a senseless child. You're bristling. "If he turns out to be a jerk and tries something he shouldn't, I'll protect you." For a moment, you're touched enough to unclench a little. "With these guns." And then you choke between his straining biceps and vie to repay him in kind.

----

The common room of Taehyung's dorm has been crudely transformed. Some questionable construction has taken place in order to build the catwalk centrepiece. Sofas and tables line the walls, thrust from the limelight. You've occupied the drinks table for the last 45 minutes, from the second you entered this place. You harbour an intense dislike for the chaotic energy of Taehyung's dorm. Machismo rages noisily between these walls and you much prefer less testosterone-drenched environments. Nevertheless, despite it all you're here on an endeavour this evening. One your idiot, rampant mouth has obligated you to. To buy time with a guy that's perfectly nice and all, but isn’t Taehyung.

Kim Namjoon makes eyes at you from the head of the runway, awaiting his musical cue. The beer you just slurped down bubbles up. You have to look away. Unfortunately, when you do, Taehyung is immediately there, his face in yours, his thumb and fingers pulling at your cheeks. "Hey you, don't get too drunk, okay? I don't trust a single man here. Especially not nice-as-pie Namjoon."

Nice-as-pie Namjoon has chosen some Bruno Mars track by the sounds of it. The auction-goers' excitement ramps up considerably.

Unable to move your captured face, your eyes sweep the room. "Not even your own teammates?" you scoff cynically, swatting at his hands until he’s baited into a game of slapsies. "Now who sounds jealous?"

Taehyung stops for a moment, thoughtful. "You know, you're right. I'm extremely jealous. I want Namjoon all to myself. He gives the best massages. And a happy ending when I ask nicely." And then he's back to rough-housing you, slapping your upper arms to alternating beats. "You look cute tonight. Your outfit, I mean," he offers up out of nowhere, so quiet you almost lose it to the bass. "He's lucky."

But you look exactly the same as you did earlier that day. Exactly the same as that afternoon in the cafeteria when he ribbed you for raiding Billie Eilish's Good Will donations. "Um, thanks. I guess." You're genuine, but don’t sound it. You can't look at him for fear of revealing the dopey grin that has hijacked your face.

"You're welcome, buddy." A large palm flattens your hair. His fingers get all in there, ruffling it until it probably looks more akin a bird's nest. Is Taehyung trying to sabotage you? Also, buddy? "Look, Namjoon's walking."

You turn and see that he is. Strutting, moreover, albeit awkwardly. It's obvious that the lanky boy is unaccustomed to the same attention the team he services is. Nevertheless, there are whoops and hollers aplenty for the handsome blonde dork, and you, too, catch yourself smiling. How can you not, when he pokes at his dimples so? The others seem captivated, too, though less by the finger-hearts and more by his form-fitting tracksuit.

“I’d wrap my car around a tree if he was the tree,” one auction-goer confides to her friend. “And then I’d wrap my legs around—”

“Yeah, we get it Lisa.”

Lisa quiets.

Namjoon’s endless legs sidle to a stop at the catwalk's end, directly opposite you. His bespectacled eyes meet your bespectacled eyes. For one, long second, the interest is palpable. But then he breaks, and casts his gaze down to his FILAs.

"Okay, he's, like, in love with you, I think," Taehyung whisper-yells, hands aflurry in applause. "Are you gonna bid?"

Shouts puncture the cheering either side of the room.

"$10!"

"$20!"

Neither of them are you.

The evening’s auctioneer - Taehyung's partner-in-slime Park Jimin - echoes each cry that rings out, giggling into a tinny karaoke mic. "$20 for our team physio?! Is that all you got ladies and gents? Do I have to remind you this guy can grope away pain with his magic hands?"

Namjoon spins toward Jimin's makeshift podium of an upturned bookcase and menaces him with his eyes. Well, it would be menacing were the man not as threatening as a ribbon-wrapped basket of newborn sloths.

The striker backpedals. "Okay, the massage might not be included, but don't let that deter you! He kisses like a pro!"

Screams of how do you know that, Jimin?! erupt and the throng grows ever more wild. Namjoon is redder than the cup you're strangling.

"Are you gonna bid?! You're gonna miss your chance!" For some reason Taehyung is still here, harassment game still strong. He should be preparing to walk next, but sees fit to pester you instead. And because of that, he's caught you in your lie, bare-faced and blushing.

No, you are not going to bid on Kim Namjoon.

"Uh, oh no, I forgot my purse," you grumble around the rim of your next drink, gulping it down like the bottom is your way out of this God-awful situation.

Then what are you doing here?

"It's right there." Taehyung pokes the cross-body bag hanging traitorously by your side.

"Oh, is it?" You reach for another cup even while burdened with one. Anything to sidetrack this conversation.

Taehyung intervenes with a firm hand. Swaddles your knuckles ‘til the shaking stops. You’re shaking? Beer slops over the sides, unnoticed. “___?”

Stupid, warm hand. And why are his fingers so fucking delicate for a footballer? He should model jewellery. Wedding rings.

Yours.

His ringless fingers close around your wrist when you persist in avoiding his gaze. The ruse is almost up. Fuck. There’s nothing left to do but to look at him.

You do, ever so timidly. “What?”

"What are you doing?" Puzzlement becomes him well. Why is he so goddamn handsome? "If you aren't gonna bid on Namjoon, why did you come?"

Silence, but for the pump of background Bruno Mars.

‘You. I came for you. You were the plan all along. Not him,’ your mind screams.

You, however, just stare.

"Going—going—gone! Sold for $70! Come claim your kiss!" Jimin can hardly stop himself from squealing. For a guy that beds girls on the daily, his sincere excitement over simple lip-locking is amusing.

Taehyung's teammates hail him from the drapery behind the catwalk but he won't yet go. No, he insists on searing holes into the side of your face while you watch Namjoon get sloppy on-stage with some girl you don't know. They're really getting into it. Damn, he forgot about you quick. In their fervour they edge towards the bounds of the catwalk, too absorbed in one another to notice. Thankfully, voyeuristic bystanders are on-hand to catch them before they fall.

"Kim Taehyung! How many times do I have to call you?! Get over here before I kick your fucking ass," Jungkook roars across the hubbub, halfway through the room. He enacts the violent gesture for emphasis and knees some unsuspecting girl in the ass. Immediately the macho facade drops and he's all doe-eyed and buck-toothed, prostrating himself before the girl who actually seems grateful to have been assaulted by one Jeon Jungkook. Between his hushed apologies, Jungkook shoots Taehyung a look something murderous. And then he sees you and throws a shy wave, the kind a little kid might when cajoled by his parents.

"Ew." The word comes up involuntarily, like bile.

A deep cackle emanates from beside you. "Okay, guess I'm up." Taehyung squares his shoulders. His mouth, too. He's a very angular boy. "Better get my kit on. Cheer for me!" With a pat to your shoulder, he makes for Jungkook. Leaves you with an insidious dread. His soccer kit is your weakness.

No, he is your weakness.

"Next up - and I'm sure most of you here tonight are anticipating this guy - our very own Team Captain and soon-to-be Major League Soccer player, Kim Taehyung!" Banshee-shrieking reverberates at Jimin's announcement. "Stick around, he'll be out in a few minutes!"

Oh fuck. Oh fuck. You turn from the catwalk and fully embrace the drinks table, supporting yourself with two hands and God's grace.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

No way.

This wasn’t an actual plan. Just a fantasy.

You're not gonna tell him like this.

You're not gonna tell him ever.

All you have to do is just say you turned out to support him. You rarely get to go out with him anyway, what with his ever-growing entourage. Taehyung would appreciate that, and he'd never have to know that you came here for cornier purposes.

You're not a big gesture kind of girl.

Nah, you aren't gonna do this.

Distantly, you wished Areum were here. She'd have slapped some sense into you, maybe even literally.

No. Wait.

The devious cow would've talked you into doing it. For sure. She has a flair for the dramatic.

"Sorry, can I just—thanks." Someone with offensively bony elbows bulldozes you aside and passes a drink to her companion. An apology is on the tip of your tongue but evaporates into the ether upon seeing the twosome in question. Both were complicit in the casual bullying you endured during your high school years. They don't appear to recognise you now. Not that they even spare your pitiful person a glance.

"Who's up next?" the worst one queries, cup snug to her bosom.

"Taehyung," the lackey answers, glee upending her petulant features. "Kim Taehyung."

An elbow jabs you again as the girl struggles with the clasp on her clutch. Her overlong claws impede her. "Oh shit, already? I thought we had more time. Shit."

"Nope. It's go time. Hurry up, girl, competition's gonna be fierce." The other one watches her digital acrobatics to get into her purse.

Oh God. She has so much money. There's no doubt in your mind she'll trump everyone present.

No. Oh, no.

Not her. Not with him.

Your mind flits through premonitions of the future. They’re all rather grim. The last one is that of a wedding. A marriage between this dreadful bitch and your most cherished of friends, Taehyung. It's garish and tacky - she's denied him input, of course - and the ceremony is filled with faces that once mocked you mercilessly. None of Taehyung's friends are there; indeed, he is no longer even part of his team. Her possessiveness and his undying loyalty have put an end to his blossoming career. He looks sad beneath a mask of happy. Eyes that once blazed with the embers of ambition are doused by despondency. He is a husk.

And their first meeting is this auction, this cute anecdotal encounter of oh, I just had to have him, and when I kissed him I knew.

Just a glimpse at this dystopian future disturbs you silly. Conviction, while tentative, burgeons in your heart.

You can't let her have him. Anyone but this noxious cunt.

And suddenly you've money in hand, too. Bills you withdrew specifically for this purpose, and yet would sooner have left them crisp and cold in your purse than followed through. But public humiliation is endlessly preferable to damning Taehyung to a kiss with this serpent. Because it won't stop there. It won't just be a kiss but an appeal for more. She’ll say it’s no strings attached, but she doesn't attach strings. She weaves webs. You recall her high school boyfriend. He was a well-performing, jovial guy that always waved hi. And she consumed him, heart-first, ‘til he was naught but a sunken-eyed zombie. He took a leave of absence that never ended.

Sexy, dangerous synth sounds from the speakers either side the catwalk. Ah, shit. Not that song. Any song but that one. NCT U’s Baby Don’t Stop. Of course Taehyung picked that. It fills the air with a fatal drum beat and in he comes through the curtains, strutting like he is the rhythm. The room, rather than become uproarious, falls eerily quiet. Everyone breathes as one entranced being, and no one moves but him. Halfway down the catwalk he body-rolls with the fluidity of wind-rippled satin, burgeoning from his chest and snapping at the hips. Prospective bidders gasp, as do you. And then his thumb is in the hem of his shirt, luring it upwards, exposing his olive expanses inch by mouthwatering inch. You see his abs near every day, but in this context, backed by that song, you find yourself as winded as everyone else. His stomach tautens for show, feeding into loose-waisted shorts that sit far too low. Even you haven’t been privy to this much. And especially not the alluring trail of hair that thickens at his waistband.

Someone shatters the stupor and screams, “$80!”

“Geez, you’re a horny bunch.” Jimin’s laughter peals. “We already have $80. Any advance on—“

“$100!” Some breathless sap cries next. “Oh my God, look at his thighs!”

And look you do. Taehyung grooves at the catwalk’s end, shirt back in place but hiking up the hems of his shorts instead. You almost glimpse groin. He’s absolutely shameless, straining the muscles of his thighs until they’re lewdly pronounced. They’re veritable tree trunks. His calves, too, defy belief. Rock-hard and rounded and begging to be bitten. The party-goers crowding round his feet must think similarly.

What distracts you most, however, are Taehyung’s straying fingers. They skirt his crotch in a salacious manner, stretching the material where it shouldn’t. Accentuating things they shouldn’t. You may pass out.

All the while his eyes are down, maybe closed. You want to see his face more than anything. The playful smirk on his plump, wet lips and the focus in his brows.

“$120!!” You almost lose your head to a cash-strangling fist beside you.

It's her. Pointy-elbowed bitch.

But you aren't thrusting your student loan up just yet. You're in the middle of an almost holy, revelatory experience. Taehyung is still undulating and provoking the crowd, who are no longer hushed but whooping like chimps in heat. His shirt is off and helicoptering overhead. He allows one overcome girl at the sidelines to verify the thew of his biceps and bags himself another bid. You, however, do nothing but gawp, bills clutched to your chest and your eyes affixed to the glorious grin that breaks across his face. His eyes open onto you and then it's you you see at his wedding, standing afore him, bouquet instead of a wad of cash. You want to be the one. Now is the moment, while he's watching you envision this.

"$200,” you splutter. Volume is difficult when your voice is a quivering inconstant.

"What was that? Did we just get another bid?" Jimin wavers too, out of disbelief. "Did someone say $200?!"

The room is a clamour of confusion but Taehyung watched you mouth the very syllables. The shock is such that it softens his salacious movements to a dance more modest. His eyes are wider than you've ever seen them; mouth too. It hangs agape and downturned, as yours does. Because you're not quite sure whether you said something else altogether. Maybe you hurled a cuss word out of frustration? Did you momentarily black out and proclaim Hitler did nothing wrong? Nothing else can account for the scrutiny with which he punishes you with now.

Or.

You actually did bid, and that's why he's walking over, to the very drop-off of the catwalk, no longer any swagger to his step. "What are you doing?" he calls down, the music still strong and now strangely inappropriate. You simply watch the mole beneath his bottom lip move, dumb.

Louder, now, you call again. "$200!"

"Oh! It was a bid! ____?!" The flame-haired MC shares his puzzlement with the rest of the reacting room. All heads turn toward you.

But yours turns nowhere but Taehyung, your expression an open book of long-hidden liking. You watch, suspended by dissociation, as he lays a palm flat against his chest. "Me?"

It could all still be explained away. A joke. You drank too much. You just wanted to see the look on his face. Instead, you grant him the minutest of nods. A simple tip of the chin. "You," you whisper, whether it's heard or not.

Taehyung sees it in the shape your lips make. And then his gaze sweeps back upward, his chest heaving far too much for a man standing stationary.

"What's going on?" The disgruntled echo each other.

Jimin is quick to make sense of things and keep it rolling. "Okay, so, a bid of $200! Anyone else?"

A new song comes on; it's gone on too long. Something with a cantering beat that's adequately sentimental.

So if love is nothing more than just a waste of your time—

Clambering atop the platform, you counter someone's desperate bid of $220 with a measured breath. "$250." You hold Taehyung at fingerpoint. "You."

Waste it on me.

For a pants-shitting second, nothing happens. Your outstretched arm gains a tremor that could crumble it. Taehyung sifts your soul with his big, dewy eyes and then he's walking. Stalking toward you. Knocks the money from your hands and seizes your shying face with both of his. The last thing you see is his nose mole before his mouth joins with yours. His grip is like a vice and his lips are no gentler. They pry you open with little effort and then you're flooded with wet heat. Taehyung is insatiable in pursuit of your tongue. His hands drop to draw in your waist, your chest, every inch of your overclothed form. He's underclothed but burning hot, planes of honed skin beneath your fingertips. It's all so right. Feels so good. Taehyung moans that much into you when he chances a breath of air. Applause starts up as the music swells. It's so cliche but you've never had a cliche of your own before and your gloom-ridden ass needs this.

"Going—"

"I didn't know. I wish I had. This would've happened sooner," Taehyung gasps between desperate, too-short smooches. It proves too difficult to resist the pull of your mouth and he captures it again, sloppier. Slower.

"Going—"

"It doesn't matter." You pull the oxygen in, impatient. "Doesn't matter." Your fingers are a tangle at the nape of his neck, tugging on his lustrous locks. "Make up for it."

"Gone! Sold for $250!"

The two of you won't be parted for a moment. Not even when dismounting the platform. There's ruckus around you but it's so distant when his lips are on you. You sink into him like you would a scalding bath. "You don't have to pay that," Taehyung tells your cheek, smearing his saliva-slick mouth back to yours. His greed for you manifests against your stomach, and you ache in return. "This is a freebie."

Your passionate clinch takes you to the sidelines, away from prying eyes. Most of them, anyway. "What about this?" Your hands are suddenly in unseemly places.

"Th-That's also free. Everything's free. Oh, God."

#taehyung #kim taehyung #taehyung fluff #taehyung scenarios #v #v fluff #v scenarios #taehyung x reader #taehyung x you #v x reader #v x you #bts scenarios #bts fluff #bts x you #bts x reader

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ihatetaxes99 · 4 years ago

Text

A Little Rant

Okay, so I've been mulling over this for a long time and I have decided, fuck it, I want to talk about something that has been on my mind for a long time. Specifically, how much I just really, really dislike Katsuki Bakugo as a character and to do so, I'm going to compare him him to my favourite character... Well, technically, second favourite, since my overall favourite doesn't quite fit the discussion (Sorry, Sako-kun, I swear I'll give you the acknowledgement you deserve another time.)

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

So, uh, before I start, probably a good idea to mention that I am going to be very harsh to Mr. Bakugo here, so if you like him, I'd advise not reading for your own sake. I know that a lot of Baku stans tend to prowl the anti tags, and this isn't for you. However, if you think you can handle it, be my guest; Just don't get pissy at me if you don't like it.

Let's get started. Where to begin, where to begin? Well, we all know the characters of Katsuki Bakugo and Tomura Shigaraki, two of the most integral characters in the series and, as far as I am concerned, two rather noteworthy pieces of shit. For the latter, this is no surprise to anyone, Shigaraki is the main bloody antagonist. He's terrorised the world of heroes for around a year by the most recent point in the manga, has murdered dozens during the MLA confrontation alone and ultimately aims to wipe everyone out. At his purest form, he is an agent of chaos and nothing less. A young man who was driven out of society and forced to indulge in his own rage. He's very clearly a character beyond redemption, and even attempting to do so would just be silly. And yet, I love him. Easily my second favourite character, at some points, he has weasled his way into first place.

Then, we have Bakugo. Beloved by all, both in universe and in the fandom, Katsuki is an explosive, ill-tempered brat with a dispositon as childish as Shigaraki's was earlier on in the series. I really do not like his character, but at the end of the day, he hasn't killed anyone and hasn't committed any crime, so why should I?

Well, that second part is technically a lie. Yeah, we all like to forget the suicide baiting scene, even Horikoshi. But simply put, it cannot be forgotten and that is my big issue with Bakugo. Everything he has done both past and present is swept under the rug. He has acted absolutely abhorrently towards a Quirkless little boy who just wanted to be his friend for years, constantly belittled and in some cases assaulted this boy. During the initial training, he nearly blows Deku to kingdom come. And why? Because he doesn't like feeling inferior. Well tough shit, the little bastard has gotten his way all his life, and coming to UA was the perfect opportunity for him to put on his big boy pants, grow a pair and actually mature as an individual. Surely, an institution such as UA would not ignore or even reward his behaviour?

....

Yeah, UA deserves all that is surely coming to it following the end of the war, purely because of how they let Katsuki slide. Keep in mind, Nedzu and Aizawa fully acknowledged that his tempermental behaviour made Bakugo a target for the League of Villains. And yet, upon recapturing him, no attempts are made to actually nurture him into dropping this egocentric shit that makes him such a target.

And of course, it's Katsuki who gets to learn about One for All first. Not Ida, the streadfast, loyal friend, not Uraraka, who has often been Izuku's closest confident. Hell, even Mineta, for all his faults, is more friendly to Izuku than Bakugo has ever been. And yet, it's good old Katsuki who gets to learn about it, the same Katsuki who didn't believe it at first, mocked the dead users of One for All and was generally a horrible, spiteful little shit. He even somehow has a friend in Kirishima, which frankly astonishes me. I am aware that 1-A don't know about Bakugo's past, but who would ever be attracted to his completely unstable personality?

And of course, he's ended up calling himself DynaMight as his hero name. First off, my darling Mister Compress is right, that's so fecking tacky, even by BNHA standards. But secondly, what the actual fuck? Okay, so the actual disciple of All Might gets stuck with a hero name that everyone knows is meant to humiliate and tear him down while the cocky little bugger who has shown nothing but open contempt to the very nature of One for All gets to ape on All Might's name? Remember a very early chapter, that had a flashback to Midoriya's potential hero names and they were all intentionally childish and cringe? Yeah, this is quite literally that but unironic. God, I hate Bakugo.

And that's really it, what separates two deeply unlikable characters. Shigaraki is acknowledged by the writing as an awful person with a scant few redeeming qualities. His backstory never tries to excuse his actions, only explain them. And so, this ragtag violent scumbag ends up as a better character than the violent scumbag that we're supposed to root for. Because I cannot root for Bakugo no matter what. He deserves the full Endeavour treatment, frankly. Because at least Enji is finally receiving what he deserves for his actions (Even if the absolutely God-awful chapter 301 has muddied that a little by portraying him in a positive light for some reason.) Bakugo needs consequences, he needs intervention and he needs to actually fucking apologise with some sincerity before I'll ever accept him as an even halfway decent character.

Blegh. Sorry for this long, boring and ultimately pointless rant. I know that literally no one cares what I have to say on this internationally beloved character, but I needed to share my two cents.

#bnha #bnha manga #anti-bakugou #anti bakugou #anti bakudeku #shigaraki #mha #boku no hero spoilers #rant #angry #God I'm an idiot for posting this #and no I don't like any ships for that matter but Bakudeku in particular winds me up

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itsuki-minamy · 3 years ago

Text

WONDERFUL SCHOOL DAYS: MY PRECIOUS RED

CHAPTER 1: START

Translation: Naru-kun Raws: skyflyinginaction

* Gakuen K (List of Chapters) * Projects & Chapters

Suddenly she raises her face to the sound of something rolling.

It looked like it was a dolly.

The morning dew turned everything milky white.

The light red of cherry blossoms stretched over her and the world turned pink.

A school route that shouldn't be there yet.

The refreshing air that touched the surroundings was cold, humid, and heavy.

The cool green was also wet with dew and reflected the morning sun softened by mist.

There was still a little time left before the morning dew cleared, the air warmed with the breath of the students going to school, and spring felt warm and joyful.

"Super Ashinaka High School, huh."

From today she will attend classes here.

Her new uniform was a bit embarrassing.

A mixture of anxiety and tension, she could barely sleep last night. She should be weak in the morning, but she woke up at 5 in the morning.

She was told that she had to go to the school principal's office in front of the classroom to register and receive various explanations from her teacher in the staff room. So she left early, but it may have been a little too early.

She walked alone before a row of cherry blossoms full of morning dew.

Being alone in a world that melts into light red made her uncomfortable.

She decided to move to this school because she no longer wanted to be alone. But after all, she had the unpleasant feeling that she here she too would be alone.

Thinking it too much, she wondered what to do with everything from the first day of moving, but she kept thinking.

"……!"

When she was desperately trying to get rid of the anxiety that was born when she moved out, she heard a jerky sound again.

"Ah?"

Was there anyone? At this time of day?

Suffering from loneliness and anxiety, she was scared and ran away. She continued to the plaza in front of the school building.

In the gradually fading milky-white morning dew, she gasped as she encountered a figure that seemed drawn in light ink.

Along with the sound she heard earlier, the shadow made strange movements.

She was a little scared, but at the same time, her curiosity grew.

Beyond the miserable line of sight, there was a boy.

A boy in a black school uniform.

Navy blue hat. Peculiar auburn hair that bounced.

The open-chested shirt was hemmed at the pants and was a bit baggy.

She instinctively looked at the bright sky blue jacket he was wearing.

A school uniform? Hey? What? Student from another school?

But here on the school grounds? But the uniform here was...

"……?"

She didn't know why, but she tilted her head.

However, when she suddenly saw his feet, she was convinced of only one thing. Ah, she already understood it. That shaking sound was the sound of a skateboard.

The boy, who seemed unaware of her existence, was skating and skating, whether he was playing or practicing.

She thought he was jumping energetically. He turned the skateboard under his feet a few laps and got back on the skateboard. He spun on impulse, lifted the skateboard with one foot, and mounted again.

Although he was gliding at considerable speed, he avoided obstacles like nothing.

A series of light techniques that made him feel like the skateboard was part of his body.

Crack...

Involuntarily, she likes it.

She wondered if she could do it, or she would fall terribly.

How will he balance it? Why does that skateboard stick to his feet even if he jumps? It was strange…

It was like playing with the wind. It was like the wind itself.

Light, fast, refreshing and unpredictable. Freedom anywhere.

There was nothing to bind or trap him now.

His appearance was carefree and he didn't seem to have anything to do with worries and problems.

Integrating with the wind as he wanted.

It was at that moment that she became curious and was watching every move he made.

"Ah?"

The boy with the skateboard got on the railing of the stairs and went down.

"What?"

In an instant he was gone and involuntarily screamed.

Hey? Uh, it can't be! He fell?!

Before thinking, her feet moved forward. She was running out of breath.

She immediately reached the stairs and stood on them. Looking down with her heart pounding, he seemed to skid over the railing, landing brilliantly at the bottom. He slid down as he was and leapt to the top.

Did he hear her when he inadvertently held her chest with both hands and took a relieved breath?

Her shoulders shook and she quickly looked up at him.

"……!"

He had amazing eyes. Sharp, fierce, warlike, and savage. Hot and strong. It was like a flame.

She took a breath and opened her eyes. He looked at her too.

At that moment, he suddenly turned bright red and hurriedly turned around.

As he was, he kicked the ground several times and accelerated. Without stopping, he left her behind.

"Wait."

She swallowed the words that rose to her throat, surprised that the words were coming out of her throat.

She rambled a bit and lowered her hand, which reflexively pursued his back.

She felt that she wanted to see a more splendid technique, but it was a bit disappointing, but was it enough to stop him?

She turned her head and turned around.

The morning dew was quite sunny and the petals of the cherry blossoms fluttered happily in the blue sky.

"I am Konohana Saya. Thanks."

The letters "Konohana Saya" written on the board. When she bowed her head, she received crackles and scant applause.

Super high school "Ashinaka", 2nd grade group.

Ashinaka Junior High School, an integrated education school from kindergarten through college. This island centered around the school is called "Super Ashinaka Gakuenjima".

The economy is established only on the island and it feels like another country other than Japan. In fact, it seems that few people come to the island, even if they are not related to the school.

Until recently, she didn't even know such a school existed. She found out about it from a letter of recommendation to move suddenly.

But she believed that this was exactly like a ship for migration.

At the time, she was in a situation where she had to transfer to another school and hopefully she would stay away from her parents and the environment around her.

So, she came to this school, which has a dormitory on this island far from her parents' house, and they recommended that she move.

Suppressing her nervous, throbbing chest, she looked around her at all who will be her classmates.

"……!"

And then, she gasped when she saw the boy with a bat on the window seat.

Eh? Was he the boy from this morning?

Was that boy from this school? Was he wearing a black school uniform?

Behind him... a big blond boy with sunglasses, he was wearing the same school clothes.

Why just those guys?

The moment she turned her neck, she realized she was wrong.

She was wrong. Not just those guys.

On the side of the hall, she glanced at the boy who was looking away.

The boy with glasses was wearing a pure white school uniform.

She did not believe that the uniform was free choice. She had not seen such a guide.

Then why?

When she was filling her head with question marks, the master said, "Then, Yukizome-san. Please take care of her.", and he walked around the main room.

In the classroom, where there was a lot of noise when the teacher left, she was a little anxious and looked around her. A girl with sincere and friendly eyes ran up to her and smiled at her a friendly smile.

"Yes. Transfer student. Nice to meet you. I'm Kukuri Yukizome."

"Yukizome-san."

"Call me Kukuri. I'll call you Saya-chan too."

She was relieved that she had a carefree smile.

"So, Kukuri-chan."

"Hehehe. If you have any questions, ask me anything! I'll show you around the school today after classes, but trust me for whatever you need."

"So what comes first?"

Kukuri begins by explaining the PDA, which is a student ID card.

Ah... the uniform. She had wasted the time to ask.

She wanted to know about the boy she saw in the morning, but at that moment Kukuri's explanation was more important. She couldn't be rude to overlook her kindness.

She regains her mind and look directly at Kukuri.

After all, that question solved itself after lunch.

"It looks delicious!"

Around the same time that the teacher left the classroom, she looked for a place to sit for lunch, and suddenly they hugged her from behind her.

"Kyaa!"

"Oh, I'm hungry! It smells good!"

When she hurriedly glanced back over her shoulder, she met stunning strange eyes, blue and gold, and her eyes widened.

She was a beautiful girl. Literally, truly, a beautiful girl.

White skin and cherry cheeks. Long straight light red hair.

A boy with silver-white hair and tender eyes came towards her, who was stunned and hardened, and clasped his hands in a hurry.

"Sorry. Hey, Neko!"

"Shiro! That gohan smells delicious! This class was really difficult!"

Hmm? Is it a delicious gohan smell?

Eh? Isn't that the delicious smell of gohan?

Kukuri smiles bitterly beside her like a poker.

"Wagahai-chan, Saya-chan = Gohan, right?"

"Yes!"

"Yes!" She said cheerfully.

"Sorry. Neko isn't good at remembering people's names. She's not malicious."

"Eh? Oh, it's fine. I don't feel uncomfortable. I was surprised."

Um... when she looked at the boy, she thought he realized the meaning of that line of sight. The boy smiled and bowed quickly.

"I'm Yashiro Isana. Everyone calls me Shiro. So I'm glad you call me that too. That girl is Neko. Shiro and Neko."

"Shiro-kun."

"Yes. And this is Kuro."

A boy approached before she knew it. He had beautiful black hair and straight black eyes.

"I am Kuroh Yatogami. As a classmate, thank you for your continued support."

"Huh? Oh, yeah! This is it!"

Unexpectedly, she bowed at the harsh self-introduction. She was shocked. By no means, when she introduced herself, have they thanked her for any support.

"Shiro~. I'm hungry~."

"So, let's make a lunch box. Konohana-san, we'll let you go then. Konohana-san has to have lunch too."

"Bento!"

Neko suddenly let go of her and looked at Yatogami-kun's heavy weight with her eyes shining.

"Hmm. Okay. Then Saya-chan, let's go. I'll show you the school cafeteria and tell you the location of the shopping department."

"Eh? But…"

Kukuri's hand seemed to have a lunch box.

"If it's a cafeteria, I think I can go alone with the navigation system. That's Kukuri-chan's lunch box, right?"

"That's right, let me go with you. Oh! I'm not just a guide am I? I want to eat lunch with Saya-chan."

"Eh? Ah…"

She said those words softly to her. She was so happy that she was going to cry.

"So, I take your word. Thank you."

"You don't have to thank, because I want to talk a lot and get to know you well, Saya-chan. Let's go!"

Kukuri called out to her and smiled.

She wanted to meet her. Those words were a bit shocking, but she was still happy. It was amazing that she wanted to be her friend.

They greeted Shiro and left the room together.

"Oh, it's true."

They were probably boys from another class. She remembered the uniform when she saw the boy in the black school uniform fluttering around and came forward.

"Hey, Kukuri-chan.", she told her as she showed her the back of the boy who was walking away from her.

"Why do some guys have different uniforms?"

"Oh, that boy belongs to a special club."

"Special club?"

"Yes. Special club activities. It is one of the characteristics of this school. There are seven special club activities at this school in addition to the regular club activities. Club members will be able to use special skills when they join the club. They are popular among students, because the word "special ability" is great, isn't it? But only the "chosen ones" recognized by each director can join the club."

The word "special ability" surprised her.

"Only the chosen ones?"

"Yes. Not everyone can enter. In that sense, it is 'special'. The one wearing that black school uniform is from the red club."

"Red club... There were two people in the class, right?"

"Yes. Yata-kun and Kamamoto-kun. Yata-kun has auburn hair and a hat. Misaki Yata. The boy with the big sunglasses is Rikio Kamamoto."

"Yata-kun. I see. His name is Yata-kun...", she thought.

"Some boys wore white school uniforms, right? That boy was from the blue club. Fushimi Saruhiko-kun."

"Blue. So all seven of them have different uniforms?"

"No. There is also a regular uniform section. For example, the silver part. There is also a club that wears a rabbit mask and wears a ninja costume only during club activities."

"Eh?"

Ninja costume?

Did she wonder why? Was she the only one to whom all this was really suspicious?

"In this school, the special club activities are something special. Well, I think you will know right away. Oh, Saya-chan. There are several ways to get to the cafeteria and the shopping department, but the shortest route is to through this courtyard."

"Courtyard?"

"Yes."

Saya pushed open the glass door that led to the courtyard.

"Wow..."

She involuntarily screamed into the courtyard, which was much bigger than she expected.

The well-kept flowerbed had colorful spring flowers. The fresh green of the plantation was also visible.

The lush grass. No trash had fallen on the cobblestones. Light pink petals fluttered from the beautiful and splendid cherry blossoms. The white garden table and chairs below were very fascinating. It would be very nice to deliver her lunch there.

"Ah, but it's better to stop by on limited menu day. I think it's best to tour the school building. There are plenty of places to shop."

What?

"Eh? Did you buy it now? I heard it well?"

Eh? A joke? Would they laugh?

Kukuri just laughed kindly, "Yes. Is that true?"

"As Miwa-san says, it is a tactic. It is a strategy to expel the rivals. Most of the students cross the courtyard, so the courtyard is inevitably the most dangerous place."

She said it naturally, didn't she? Waiting? Was it weird that she didn't understand?

"I set up a purchase to get a limited menu... I haven't had any experience with that."

"Oh, is that true? It's interesting once you get used to it."

So it was.

But surely it would be fun to think of getting a limited menu through the differences? Should she think of it as a game?

That was when she thought about it.

"Sorry. I can't come here."

Kukuri sighed and looked back.

"Eh? Why?"

When she tilted her head, Kukuri pointed at something, saying "That." She was just looking around her and, for the first time, she realized that there were a lot of people gathered there and she opened her eyes.

Also, the atmosphere was not good for compliments. It was terribly upsetting and she felt bad.

A group of black school uniforms and a group of white school uniforms staring at each other. Was it a special club activity?

People who wore black school uniforms had a slightly mischievous impression. In contrast, many of the people wearing white school uniforms appeared to have a tight look. She felt like they were honor students.

However, all white school uniforms with his honors wore sabers at the waist.

So those sabers were weapons that can kill people. What was that?

"Kukuri-chan? They seem to be looking at each other, but what the hell are they doing? And what they have around their hips is a saber, right?"

"It's a conflict. What they wear on their waists is a saber."

"What?"

The answer is so simple that she doubts the ears of her.

"Conflict... is that a fight?"

"Of course it is."

"Eh? Are they fighting? Students?"

"Oh. It's a good reaction. Fresh and cool. Okay. You'll be surprised at first, but you'll get used to it. It's the usual thing."

What was that reaction?! It was really weird.

She realized that she was used to conflict.

However, when she looked around her, there were people looking away, but no one was surprised or made noise, and it seemed that Kukuri's reaction was correct there. She said it was a statement of fight, maybe the common sense of this school was a little strange?

Struggling to understand, she returned to a group of gazes.

"Oh, Yata-kun..."

"Yes. I told you that he is a member of the red club and wears a black school uniform. There is also Kamamoto-kun."

Kukuri pointed a finger at that big blond boy with sunglasses.

"Most of the red club members are bad. Oh, but that's fine, you'll be sure. We don't take the word 'bad' as a bad thing, so they are accepted by the students in general."

Eh? What kind of place was this? She didn't understand anything.

"Isn't it bad?"

"Hmm. It may be wrong to use the word 'bad', it doesn't mean they are bad people. How to say it? I think it's like people who aren't good to keep up with everyone. People who live their own way can be the closest ones. The principal is Mikoto Suoh, a third-year student. He is also one of the heads of this school, it is said that he has a lot of fights. You see, it's that red-haired person next to Yata-kun."

Kukuri points to the person in the middle of the black group.

Chillingly sharp red eyes. Tense and delicate cheeks.

Was he really older? He seemed charismatic. Regardless, his presence was astonishing.

"The blue club are wearing the white school uniform. They have excellent grades and good behavior. Most of the members of the group are super elite who also serve as student organizers and members of the disciplinary committee. The activities are the maintenance of discipline, student orientation, activities such as leading students at a school event, etc."

Discipline, right? Eh? So... what about sabers? Isn't it a violation of the law to use weapons and swords?

"That's why they don't seem to get along with the blues from one point of view. The director of the blue club is Reisi Munakata, a third year student. He is the director of the Student Organization within the School, the example! of exemplary behavior!"

That's right, the central figure of the white group that Kukuri later showed was like the "exemplary student".

Sharp glasses with calm and cool eyes. He listened to the red club swearing with a sweet smile on his lips, as if he were listening to classical music.

"You saw the one next to him in the hall, right? That's Fushimi Saruhiko-kun."

"Fushimi-kun."

"That's why I can't come through here. It's hard to get involved."

Well, could they involve her?

She was scared and just wanted to get out of there immediately.

"Hey, Monkey! Bastard, say it again!"

However, at that moment, a strong voice rang out from the courtyard.

She turned around and looked at the group again.

"Oh, I'll tell you a few times. Your power is below mine. MI SA KI."

Fushimi laughed vividly. Delighted, as if he was intoxicated with something.

He was creepy.

What was that look?

Furthermore, Misaki really looked angry.

"Hmm...! I can't take it! I'll take you down!"

Yata jumped up, fierce fury fading into his eyes. That's it… Misaki is Yata's name.

Suddenly, his classmates began to move.

"Wow. It's started. This is the end of the story for the special part. We have to move fast."

Kukuri came out in a hurry.

But she couldn't answer.

She was fascinated by the fiery bat metal that rose from Yata's hands.

What? It was certainly a flame.

Born from empty space, grew up in the blink of an eye and covered Yata's hands.

She was stunned by the fist that burned like a torch.

"What?"

"Saya-chan?"

The shape was slightly different, but everyone in it was able to easily create a flame and target the blue club. The members of the blue club also drew sabers one after another and defended themselves.

It wasn't just a saber, there was a blue light on the blade.

Is that a special ability?

It's like the magic that appears in the story... Wasn't it a dream?

Well then, what about her...?

"Saya-chan!"

Her shoulders were shaking and she suddenly returned to herself.

"Ah... sorry. Kukuri-chan..."

"Okay. It's dangerous here. Let's go now."

"Yes."

At that moment, Kukuri urged her to move quickly.

Yes, it was exactly a fight. Other students in the courtyard were screaming.

"Ah!"

Looking back, the first thing she saw was a knife with a red lotus flame approaching them.

And that was the last thing. She didn't have time to think about anything.

"Kukuri-chan, it's dangerous!"

Kukuri's body moved quickly. At that moment, a flash of light enveloped her.

In the bright light she was unable to open her eyes, and a tremendous destructive sound was heard.

"Tsu!"

However, it was only a moment, and soon the light disappeared like a lie.

However, the numb ears remained as they were, and the sound of the world that was lost immediately after the destructive sound had not yet returned, leaving only a high-pitched beep.

She thoughtfully held her ears with her hands and shook her head to shake her eyes and limbs from her.

A vague hum came from a distance, and she suddenly lowered her eyes over Kukuri in her arms.

"Ah...! Kukuri-chan, are you hurt?"

"No. I'm fine. Nothing happened to me, but... Saya-chan..."

"Eh?"

"Well, the light is coming out of Saya-chan's body, but..."

"Ah!"

She was surprised by the words. She quickly released Kukuri and looked at her hands.

Both hands had a vague white light. Her whole body was in that state. It was as if she herself was emitting light.

When she looked around her hastily, the stone pavement was severely broken and scraped only around her. It was like they had excavated with heavy equipment or something.

The knife... strangely, it pierced the stone pavement with the flame burning.

The knife turned to stone. It was also deep. That should not be the case.

"Ah!"

Many of the impossible visions piled up and the blood rose again. Reflectively she hug her.

Oh! She again...

"Saya-chan. What's wrong?"

Kukuri's question chilled her back.

When she stood up, she took a step back and walked away from Kukuri.

"Saya-chan...?"

Kukuri's astonished face stared at her back.

What did she have to do? What was she to answer?

She didn't even know what that was.

It was at that time...

"A 'skill', right?"

A sweet, low and gentle voice resonated with the usual sound of his shoes.

When she shook her shoulders and raised her face, the person standing there was Reisi Munakata, who was the head of the blue clan and the Student Organization within the school.

In his hand was a sword that glowed pale.

It was horrible, but... no, more than that.

"Skill...?"

She was amazed at the words she heard for the first time.

"Yes. People with innate special abilities are called 'Strain'."

With that said, Reisi Munakata put the saber in the scabbard and pulled up his glasses with his fingers.

"The power of a Strain sometimes hurts people."

A painful memory crossed her mind at that moment.

She instinctively she pursed her lips.

"It is also our job to prevent that from happening. The other day, there was a report that a Strain had entered the island, but are you a transfer student?"

With a rattling noise, Munakata took a step closer. He turned and took a step back.

"The birth of a talented person off campus is infinitely equal to zero."

"Oh, that, I ..."

"In other words, the exception is that you are a Strain. Transfer student Konohana Saya. If you don't resist, nothing bad will happen to you. Surrender quietly and quickly."

Surrender.

As usual, a soft, sweet smile on his lips.

However, there was a dignified and sharp light in the eyes behind the glasses, showing that the words weren't a joke.

"Here we go."

Reisi Munakata approached her.

She knew she must accept. She should quietly surrender.

But what would happen as a result of the surrender? She already knew what to do after that.

She didn't want to think like that again!

A trauma revived in the back of her eyes.

She shook her head violently and took a step back. And when she held her head, she screamed.

"I do not like it!"

"……"

At that moment, the flame worn by the knife driven into the stone pavement on the rocky shore swayed and suddenly turned into a terrible glow.

Munakata was shocked and flew away.

At the same time, a column of fire that was burning the heavens unnaturally swelled and surrounded her.

"Eh?"

The heat increased and the view was surrounded by flames.

Although she glanced around her hastily, it was a flame on one side. A flame surrounded her.

What?! What was happening?!

No way, this was her too?!

"What...?"

She thought about it for a moment. Suddenly feeling congested, she looked at her limbs.

She got worse and worse and she knelt on the spot.

"What?"

The field of view was blurry. The smoke soaked her and tears came out, she spilled and got wet, she was fed by the heat and she dried herself quickly

Her head was shaking and she fell.

"Evacuate!"

Was it Munakata senpai? A sharp voice rang out.

Beyond the flames she was terribly crowded, with countless footsteps flapping.

"......"

Why did this happen?

The earth was burned, the sky, while the flames protected it and prevented other invasions.

No, it could be the other way around. Maybe to protect everyone from her. She maybe she was trapped in a fire ship so as not to harm her surroundings again.

That's. The witch must be burned at the stake. So the price to pay is fixed. She is not a good common person.

"Cough..."

She fell and coughed.

It was painful. The air was not getting well into her lungs.

Severe pain ran down her left hand.

It was a stabbing pain, but she could no longer move her body.

She tried to stand up, but she couldn't even see anymore.

However, as if she were hazy, her consciousness blurred and vanished.

(Oh really. Why did this happen?), she thought.

She wanted peace. But that was it. It must have been terribly modest.

It was at that time.

"Reject."

Lowly, a voice echoed out.

When she opened her eyes slightly at being invited by that voice, a black figure appeared in the fire in front of her. She seemed to rush there without hesitation.

No way, because such a burning flame. She couldn't just touch him and be sure.

It sure was a hallucination. It was a convenient illusion, because no one would come to her like this.

The moment she thought that, she felt something put on her head.

She was surprised by the feeling. Her vague awareness woke up and she opened her eyes.

Immediately afterwards, she had the sensation that her body was floating gently.

She didn't scream (she couldn't), but she was in awe.

When she hurriedly raised her face, it was red that was occupying her field of vision.

His red hair swayed from the heat and his red eyes stared directly at her.

Certainly, Suoh. He was the head of the red clan.

She gently touched what she had on her head.

Something with sleeves and black, maybe the school uniform?

Suoh said "Let's go.", while he held her, but did not understand the situation (it was not a hug like holding a princess, but a hug where she felt his arm. As parents do with small children).

Go where? How?

However, she still couldn't say those words.

And it seemed that he did not ask for her consent, and Suoh began to walk with her in his arms without waiting for her response, towards the flame.

It was no longer a scary story, and she reflexively tightened Suoh's shirt and supported her face to cling to his shoulders, but strangely it was no longer hot. The flame that had burned her skin a while ago was completely gone.

On the contrary, the cooling breeze immediately caressed her feet and her hair, and she widened her eyes in amazement.

"Hey! Transfer student!"

At the same time, a strong voice echoed out from the vicinity.

The voice was the same that started the fight, she shook her shoulders and raised her face from him.

His fierce eyes were now terribly anxious, painful, and distorted.

Yata.

Nor did her voice come out.

"You, your hands..."

Yata's expression, who seemed to be terribly surprised, slowly looked at her left hand. Both her blazer and shirt were charred and the back of her hand was swollen red.

Looking around her, the pillar of fire was still there. Behind Suoh and her.

How did they get out of it? What the hell happened?

As he held her in a self-defeating state, Suoh looked around him.

When she turned her gaze from her to him as if she was invited, she saw Munakata and Fushimi holding a saber.

Behind them, people in white uniforms were still busy moving.

Suoh stared at them, raised the edge of his lips and laughed lightly.

"This girl is mine."

Saying that he began to walk calmly.

She had a lot to say, but she couldn't get it right, she couldn't speak, and she closed her eyes softly, clinging to his neck.

"It's a clubroom, but... sorry I rarely use it. It's dirty."

Silky light brown hair. A good man with tender eyes offered her a can of juice and smiled.

"I am Totsuka Tatara. I am a third year student from the red club."

"Totsuka-senpai."

"Yes. You burned yourself, are you okay? How about the infirmary?"

After that, Suoh took her straight to the infirmary.

Her wound was a burn on her left hand. A slight low-temperature burn on her right knee. When she fell, she hurt her left knee a bit. It looked like her left hand was a bit awful.

She let the burns cool, then applied an ointment, covered with a bandage, insured and strap up.

All she had to do is wash, disinfect, and apply an ointment.

The time was about fifteen minutes, but during that period, the members of the red club stayed in front of the infirmary and nobody could get close, so it became a bit of a scandal.

So the nurse told her to rest, but she rejected that and immediately left the infirmary.

At the time, she was surrounded by a group of black school uniforms and in the meantime, she was led into a somewhat crowded empty classroom.

Several desks and chairs were stacked in one corner, and an old black leather couch was placed in the shape of three triangles. Juice cans and bottles were placed on the central floor, and it was really like a "gathering place".

Oh, Suoh? Suoh left her with the nurse and left immediately, but where did he go? He wasn't there either.

He had helped her and she wanted to thank him.

Sitting on one of the couches, Totsuka, who was sitting next to her, offered her some juice and looked at her left hand, which was bandaged.

"The burn on your left hand seems to be a bit terrible. You should go to the hospital after school."

At her words, Yata, who was near the door, made his shoulders explode.

"Yes. I am concerned. I hope there are no marks left."

Scars?

"Scars, what ..."

That didn't matter to her.

When she smiled and shook her head, Totsuka frowned.

"Um...?"

"I have to find a new school again."

"Eh...?"

When Totsuka was surprised, his eyes rounded.

That was a bit strange.

She was sure that this person was also in the yard. It was very strange to see that and not think "why?"

She smiled selfishly and slowly spread her hands.

"I have a power that ordinary people don't have. Did you see it? A while ago, in the courtyard. I did that in the previous school. I broke the school building in half, injuring a lot of people. That made me incapable of stay at the old school."

"……"

"That is exactly what Munakata-senpai said. I hurt a lot of people with my abilities. I have done something irreparable."

People from the red club were looking at her.

"Living as a 'normal person' in this school. Hide the ability. Never let my abilities go crazy. Do not disturb anyone, just control myself, do not stand out anyway and live calmly. That's what I imagined."

But it does not work. No way, and it all happened on the first day.

Oh, no matter how she fixed it, she was a "monster".

"Guh!"

She couldn't do anything else.

It went dark in front of her.

That show that never went away while kept burning in her mind.

Perhaps even a big earthquake happened, a part of the school building was ruined and turned into ruins.

Students who were at that time. A blue sheet placed in the schoolyard. The groan that filled the place. A bloodstained towel. And…

Involuntarily, she clenched her back teeth tightly.

She was unharmed. It was as if she was protected by the light emitted from her body.

A mixed look of amazement and fear towards her. It soon turned into disgust. Neither her friends, her classmates nor her eldest looked at her. They didn't try to get involved. Even the teacher looked away from her.

Even her family was scared and they always tried to be in a good mood. If they were in a bad mood, that house would be destroyed next. Her parents believed they could be attacked.

She lost everything that was important at the time.

She didn't want to repeat that feeling.

"No, wait. Um, Konohana-san, right? You don't have to do that. Konohana-san, you can stay here. Rather, I think you should be in this school. The "Ashinaka Super High School" is a school. where talented people meet."

"Eh? Are you gathering talented people?"

"That's right. Did you ask anyone about extracurricular activities?"

"That is…"

She had heard it.

But it was a story where you could use special abilities when you entered a special club, wasn't it a story that people with abilities met in this school?

At her words, Totsuka understood easily.

"That's right. That's true for most, but some people have the ability before joining the club, like you."

"Ah… Before joining?"

"Yes. It is training. But that is not what I mean. The important thing is that there are many talented people in this school. The skills are both congenital and acquired. That is this. It is the 'normal' of the school. You understand It is not "abnormal"."

"It is normal..."

"Yes, no one discriminates against talented people."

Discriminate?

"But... that person, Munakata-senpai said that I should give up..."

"That's because your ability is a mystery. I think I wanted to have it on hand before the hardships happened. It seems that Strains are rarely born outside of the school island."

Does that mean that she was a "foreigner" among talented people?

"You are so different from other talented people that he wanted to keep you close and monitor you."

She involuntarily clenched her back teeth and squeezed her skirt tightly.

Her burned left hand ached, prompting tears.

Why? Why did he have that ability?

The overflowing sound slid gently down her cheeks, and the voice of Totsuka and the members of the red club breathing in the room echoed out.

She didn't need something like that. That is why she lost everything. On top of that, he said it was different in another way and will likely be a target in the future. Until she surrenders, until she's under his control.

She didn't want to be a talented person. She wanted to be normal.

All she wanted was "peace". That was all.

Normally, she just wanted to enjoy school life every day. Why wasn't even that allowed?

"Usually I want to enjoy school life. I don't need any skills..."

"Uh..."

That's when she told him to leave her and roughly wiped her tears away.

"That was wrong!"

Yata, who had been standing in front of the door until then, suddenly threw himself in front of her and sat on the ground. Then, with a loud voice echoing through the room, he screamed, "It was wrong!", and rubbed his forehead against the floor.

"Eh? Ah…"

"That knife, I threw it at you!"

"……!"

""I threw the knife thrown by the monkey! Well, that's why I was the one who created the opportunity for you to use your skills!"

So it was like that.

But beyond that, she didn't know what to say.

She may have misinterpreted him as angry. Yata looked up and stared at her, then leaned down to slam his forehead hard against the ground again.

"The knife flame was probably me too! I hurt you...!"

But it was probably she who created the pillar of fire, and it was Yata who was injured.

She shook her head and wanted to say it. No, she was trying to say it.

But before that, Yata raised his head again, stared at her and yelled, "I won't let you do that!"

His eyes pierced her and held burning flames.

Dedicated to it, he gasped.

"Yata-kun..."

"Thanks to you, I didn't hurt the average student! And yet my benefactor saved you... Let me make it up to you!"

"Huh? But the wound is..."

"I will never let them monitor and control you! I will not let you do that!"

She involuntarily lost her words at the powerful scream.

"I won't let the blue club do anything! I promise to take care of other departments too!"

There was no hesitation in his hot eyes.

It was a trustworthy word that she could understand from the bottom of her heart and made her heart warm.

"I'll protect you!"

"Ah…"

"It has nothing to do with talented people or Strain! You are you! Enjoying normal school life, it is not allowed to do anything to you! Absolutely!"

"Yata-kun ..."

"Like I said, you'll be fine! So... uh, uh, don't cry, uh... that face..."

Yata lowered his eyebrows as if he was in trouble.

But still, Yata did not take his eyes off her.

"Guh..."

The tears overflowed again.

"What?! Did I say something strange?! Or did your wound hurt?"

Yata fluttered hastily and looked at her.

He was wrong. That was not. What should he do? She was happy.

She was a "monster" and there were people who wanted to "protect" her.

She could have hope and "peace", be "normal". That was forgiven.

She never thought that she would get a word like that.

Oh what should she do? She was happy!

When she brought her hands together, she squeezed her eyes tight.

Yata's worried voice, "Hey, Konohana…" made her heart flutter.

"Ah…"

She was glad. Her heart was full and she couldn't say anything more.

She could not believe it. From that day on, her life was going to change completely. She had experienced it. They hurt her and she suffered. It was still in her, too vivid a memory.

Talented people weren't special. She could stay at this school. She should calm down. Although she was happy with just that word, they would protect her.

She now she was normal.

She could enjoy her school life in peace and safety.

Will she be forgiven? Such thing. Furthermore, she, who caused such an incident...

(Oh, but I don't want to be a "monster" anymore! I'm so scared of myself! I want to recover "every day".), she thought.

"Hmm..."

Nobody said anything anymore.

Yata didn't even say, "Don't cry."

They were all there, silent.

A bell rang on the way to announce the start of classes, but no one seemed to mind that.

He was kind and gentle and surrounded her.

"Konohana?"

Kamamoto looked at her.

After skipping class for an hour, she returned to the classroom with Yata and Kamamoto, but she was scared and she stopped in front of the door.

Kamamoto breathed as she clasped her hands, holding her breath.

"Are you afraid?"

"……"

"Okay. There's Yata-san. I'm also."

"It's true, but..."

"Okay. Maybe there's nothing Konohana should be worried about."

Was that so?

Was it really possible that they saw her with the same eyes as this morning when she knew nothing happened?

"Okay. Come in."

But she couldn't escape.

She couldn't say that she couldn't get into the classroom if she was going to stay at that school.

She took a deep breath and desperately suppressed the tremors in her body.

When she looked up, Yata looked at her and opened the door.

Kamamoto patted him on the back.

She takes a breath and half shaking she enter the classroom.

"…!"

Immediately afterwards, the classroom, which had been noisy until then, quieted down.

At that moment, something cold ran down her back.

Ah! Ah! After all, she couldn't lift her face and closed her eyes. Was when…

"Hey, Saya-chan!"

It was Kukuri's strong voice.

Then there were turbulent steps and they grabbed her by the shoulders.

When she opened her eyes in amazement, Kukuri's crying face appeared right in front of her.

"I was worried! Oh, bandages! You're hurt! Oh, your legs! Do you hurt? Are you okay? I was worried because you didn't come back soon."

Shiro and his friends also run towards her with other classmates.

Was this a reality?

"Kukuri-chan..."

"Thanks for your help on the courtyard! I'm sorry I couldn't thank you right away!"

That said, Kukuri hugged her.

The warmth of her finally made her realize that this was not a dream.

Her back back of her nose hurt, and at the same time, her chest.

"Kukuri-chan... Am I not unpleasant?"

"Hey, why?"

Kukuri looked into her eyes as if she didn't really understand her meaning.

"Because, this ability..."

"Yeah?! I don't believe that at all. You were great as an ally of justice, right?"

"Ah..."

"Because you are a lifesaver, I don't think I could feel uncomfortable. Tell me if there is anyone who thinks otherwise! I will preach for about three hours! Hey?"

At Kukuri's words, Shiro and Yatogami took control.

"Ah..."

Oh, she already understood... what should she do? She was happy.

The exact opposite of the previous school. But it may be that she used to hurt people with her abilities, and this time she protected people with her abilities. Still, it's the same thing that was destroyed here and there with the non-human ability. However, by no means, would it be accepted like this!

"Eh? Saya-chan? Why are you crying?"

"Gohan~? What's wrong? Does it hurt?"

Both of her hands caressed it gently.

That invited more tears.

When she suddenly looked for Yata, he was already moving by the window.

When Yata looked into her eyes, he turned red and turned away from her. That was not the case a little while ago. Kamamoto gave him a small blow.

Finally, she was relieved.

She took a deep breath and put her hand on Kukuri's back.

++++++++++

"Yata-san! I'm here!"

Around the same time that the teacher was leaving the main room, the members of the red club entered and greeted Yata.

"Oh, come in."

"Understood."

"Wow, Saya-chan."

"Eh?"

Wow, she?

As she prepared to go home while glancing at him, she was shocked when she was suddenly called by her name. Surprised, she looked at the boy who was looking at her with a smiling face.

"What?"

"Oh, hi. I'm Chitose Yo. This guy next to me is Dewa. We're sophomores and members of the red club."

"Chitose-san and Dewa-san?"

"Yeah. The blonde over there is Eric. It was a bit noisy to get into the room, I wonder if it would have been better later. Let's go first."

Eh? Where?

"This is your bag."

"Eh?"

"Yes. Princess. Please give me your hand. Right hand. Take your left hand, don't you?"

"Eh?"

What? What was happening?

When she looked at Yata with a feeling of confusion, for no apparent reason, he turned red and turned around. Kamamoto who was next to her raised his hand and said: "Okay."

But that was it. She did not understand the meaning.

As she filled her head with question marks, they gently lifted her up and carried her out of the classroom.

(What? Well, wait. Where are we really going?), she thought.

"Ah, that? Where are we going?"

"Let's go to the red club room."

"Eh? Let's have lunch, that?"

"Oh, no. Not there. It's where we usually hang out."

Eh? Oh, that's right, Totsuka said, "We rarely use the place for lunch."

"Yes. That's right. I'll show you, so follow me."

He asked Dewa to please give him her bag, while Chitose tugged at his hand.

A boy in sunglasses and a hoodie under his school uniform pushed his back.

Behind it was a slim blond boy. Next to them, a boy who seemed to be serious, although his hair was standing on end, seemed to be calm. There were many others.

Yata was the first to walk. Kamamoto followed him diagonally behind.

Kamamoto suddenly turned around and raised his hand saying, "Okay."

Really? No, she didn't think Yata and his friends would do something to her.

But was she worried after all? Because she didn't understand the meaning or the intention.

Why were they trying to take her to the red club?

The appearance of walking surrounded by the members in black school uniforms of the red club seemed strange, and all the students who passed by had round eyes.

"It's unreasonable, it's not good."

Anna Kushina. A mysterious Japanese teacher, a beautiful girl with long straight hair and big red eyes, looked like a girl.

It was Chitose, not Yata, who replied with a smile: "I understand."

Anna nods and passes without stopping.

She looked back over her shoulder and saw Dewa.

"Huh? What happens now?"

"Anna-sensei. Doesn't she know?"

"No, I know. I know."

"Oh, Anna-sensei, the red club advisor."

After thinking about the meaning of her question for a moment, Dewa convinced her. It was true, that's why she couldn't resist.

"We got to the living room. Yes, let's go."

"Ok. You can change clothes yourself!"

Chitose, who tried to be fragile, is hastily stopped and their shoes are changed.

Oh, she's already seen it! She can look at it with a sense of interest!

However, apart from her, they march around her began again, probably because they didn't mind the direct gaze of other students.

She was embarrassed and lightly clasped her hands in front of her chest and denied.

"Oh, should I go to the girls' dorm? I'm out of school, but something..."

Eh?!

"Is this outside of school? Even though it's a clubroom?!"

"I wonder if it is a clubroom or a place that replaces the clubroom."

"Yeah? Well that's..."

"By the way, do you think Anna-sensei and other teachers will get mad when they find out I'm going in there?"

Would they be offended?

When she asked them all of a sudden, not all of them showed a congested expression, they just looked at each other and said, "Okay."

"Yes. It's fine during the day."

She got more anxious.

It was like that, they walked a bit. She went to a bar where they took her.

The name of the store is "HOMRA".

"Homura?"

"Yes. Homura. The common name of the red club."

It was strange. Was the red club commonly known as Homura?

Retro look and nice British flair. The deep, calm red was very impressive. The gold lettering "BAR", the lights and the exterior menu board were very atmospheric and liquorous.

The tenant on the first floor... but the building itself was made of brick and the window frame was dark green. It felt like you were on an English street that you see in the movies.

She knew it was prejudice, but it wasn't a "bad hangout."

"Oh, I see. It's fine during the day because it's a bar."

"Yes, please!"

Chitose opened the door with a smile.

A bright caramel colored wooden counter that can be seen as antique. A wooden floor that squeaked when you stepped on it. A classic that flowed smoothly. Various traditional and elegant interiors. The spacious couch seats looked very comfortable.

At the back of the counter, there were many bottles of liquor.

One person was polishing glasses, had shiny auburn hair and purple glasses. She wondered if he was the age of a college student. He was like an older brother with a big smile.

"Oh, that boy?"

The boy smiled as he watched her enter.

"Then Kusanagi-san, do something sweet."

Perhaps he arrived a little earlier, Totsuka, who came out the back, beckoned her to come.

"Yes, sit there on the couch."

"Eh? Ah, that..."

"Saya-chan, right? You don't like it?"

"Huh? Oh, I can't drink alcohol."

When she answered that while she was sitting on the couch, they looked at her like everyone was shocked for a moment.

Eh?

"Ah, that?"

"Well, did you think they'd be drunk? Well, it's definitely a bar here, right? But it's not good for minors. It's a waste."

She smiled and waved her hand.

She believed that it was different for not drinking because it is not good...

Oh, but that's not what she just said.

She shook her head, looked at Totsuka and then looked back at the young man.

"I thought they were drunk, but it was about making sweets. I'm not good at cakes made with western liquor, nor compotes boiled in alcohol, although I skipped the alcohol and the rum raisins. I mean, sorry. I think I am. I said many words."

"Oh, that's how it is."

"Wow, did you think it was going to be bad?"

"Saya-chan."

She felt bad. In a hurry, he waved his hands and apologized, and put the glass he had polished on the shelf and laughed mischievously.

"If you forgive a man too much, he will eat you, don't you think?"

Eh?!

"Hmm, wait a minute. Look, you guys are scaring the princess, don't you think?"

"Ah, that?"

Eh?! Princess?!

She was surprised to hear that, but the boy started to prepare.

When she looked at Kamamoto, who was standing next to him, Kamamoto said "Oh." and he point to the young man with his hand.

"Izumo Kusanagi. He is a college student at 0B and from the red club. He is the same age as Mikoto. He is the owner of this bar."

What should she be surprised about?

Is he the same age as Suoh? Does that mean Suoh was repeating a year? So he was a college student and a business owner? College student?!

"Kusanagi-san, what about Mikoto-san?"

"He comes in the afternoon, now he is sleeping."

Kusanagi responds without stopping to Yata's question.

"Oh, upstairs? The second floor is also a store?"

"He has nothing to do with the store. He's using the empty room on the second floor as a nap spot. He's the King."

"King..."

"Mikoto-san…"

At Kamamoto's complementary explanation, she looked ahead.

Late? So after that he came there? What? And the lessons?

"The basement is the storeroom for the store and it feels like our gathering place."

"I'll tell you. Even though I'm immersed in this all year, it's never been quiet in the basement and they've interrupted my business."

At Chitose's words, involuntarily, she chuckled softly.

"Oh, now you have a nice smile."

Then Totsuka laughed, gestured with his thumb and forefinger, and looked at her.

"You brought her in because you wanted to see her smile, right? Yata."

"Eh?"

When she looks at Yata sitting on the counter, Yata turned his bright red face and turned around, saying, "Ah, that's not it!" She's been thinking about it since noon, but maybe Yata was really shy?

"Yata-kun, really?"

"Ah...! But I said you would have fun in your school life!"

When asked, Yata yelled as he looked away. His profile was tinted red, and surprisingly the red was turning redder.

He somehow embarrassed her and her cheeks heated up.

"That's right. That's why Saya-chan…"

Chitose knelt on the ground and reached out in front of her.

"Plays with us."

"……!"

"Oh, I said it, it's not because Saya-chan is a Strain. I'm sure she created that pillar of fire. I'm glad she protected the students in general. No, I'm really grateful. I think she is. It does worst thing to do to injure a student in general."

When she shook her shoulders, Chitose rushed to shake her hands and said, "Oh! I don't blame Saya-chan!"

"We want you to join this special club, we have skills too. It's different from you that you didn't even know you had the skills. We got them because we wanted it. I think there is a great responsibility there."

Totsuka looked at her and said calmly.

"That's right. It's like Chitose said."

"Everyone in the red club is grateful to Saya-chan."

"Really...?"

(Wow, thankful to me? Um... why did I do that?), she thought.

She was confused and denied, but everyone was smiling at her.

"Yes. Thank you. Oh, and we're sorry that your hand got hurt, Saya-chan. I'm not saying that because I feel responsible, only Yata got hurt."

"Eh?"

"The rest is fine. Because the red club has a reputation for being bad. It's great that you didn't see us with that kind of eyes, but, above all, seeing those tears and doing nothing would make a man leave."

"Chitose-san..."

"We're having fun. Maximize that out now. I want Konohana-san to have fun. So I thought. That's why you came to this school, right?"

"Totsuka-senpai..."

But, she was a different "Strain".

(I'm happy, but...! But it can be a hassle!), she thought.

However, no one seemed to care about that. Why?

On the contrary, everyone was very happy.

"I'm happy. The first female member! It's the first time I've seen it of all generations, isn't it? Kusanagi-san!"

"Saya-chan. It certainly is. There has never been a female member in the red club. I hope you join the club."

Kusanagi, who came out of the counter, said that and placed a fruit-filled parfait in front of her. It was cute and it looked delicious.

"Yes, here you go."

"Oh, thanks! It looks delicious..."

Well, everything was getting really good. It would be good?

The moment she received the spoon that was offered to her while thinking about it, the floor creaked.

They all looked back in surprise. Kusanagi also laughed and stood up slowly.

"Good morning, Mikoto."

Suoh, who came down from the second floor, yawning sleepily.

No one said anything, and naturally everyone turned away. There was nothing to block his red eyes staring at her.

Great charisma. A bottomless flame.

She shrugged reflectively.

That wasn't horror, it was amazement... she felt a bit shocking.

"……"

Looking at her like this, Suoh scratched his head.

Then he took a little breath and walked over to her silently and sat down casually next to her.

"Hey."

"Oh, yeah!"

"If you feel like it, join."

The hand that reached out in front of her, made her eyes open inadvertently.

She was instantly engulfed in flames, and she gasped.

"Eh?"

"Okay, it's like a rite of passage."

Totsuka told her gently, and she turned to look at him.

"A rite of passage?"

"Yes. Sorry, but it is absolutely necessary to join the red club. There are many people who cannot take that hand and stop joining, but trust."

Totsuka wiped the smile on his lips and looked directly at her.

"Trust me. We, the red club, will never hurt you."

"……"

Looking at Yata, there were some members who seemed a bit concerned, but his gaze was very sincere, determined, direct, and fiery.

She was relieved, it should be fine. She had just met them, but she could believe it. There were no lies in those words. They would protect her. She looked at everyone around her.

They were all staring at her.

She swallowed her breath and looked at him.

That's why? There was no wonder or anxiety.

Without anxiety, she had no reason to be surprised.

This is where her words wanted to come out of her throat.

When she pursed her lips, in the hand that held the flame, she placed her hand.

#k #k project #k wonderful school days #gakuen k #novel #yata misaki #suoh mikoto #totsuka tatara #kamamoto rikio #munakata reisi #fushimi saruhiko

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rizlowwritessortof · 3 years ago

Text

Meant To Be - Chapter 8

Dean and Jordan are each trying to escape their painful pasts. Their chance meeting and a dangerous encounter begins a relationship that may give them both a new start.

Pairing: Police Detective Dean Winchester/Jordan Taylor

Word Count: 3085

Warnings: None

Aesthetic by @editsbymichele on Instagram; Dividers by @firefly-graphics

Jordan regained consciousness with a groan at the throbbing pain in her head. She tried to move, to hold her head in her hands, but they were securely bound behind her back – duct tape, it felt like, and she opened her eyes slowly, remembering what had happened and wondering where she was.

The masked man in front of her shoved at the shoulder of the larger man beside him. “Hey – bitch is awake.”

She squinted up at the man who had spoken, defiance in her eyes. “Fuck you.”

He took a step towards her, but his apparent boss grabbed his arm. “Knock it the fuck off. Take a walk.”

Douche-bag flunky stalked away in a huff, and the man in charge hunkered down in front of her. “Sorry things have to be like this, but it’ll be over soon. Just keep your mouth shut and do as you’re told, and you’ll be fine.”

Jordan just glared back at him, then turned her head, letting her eyes scan the room. She was in some sort of garage, or storage building, she wasn’t sure. The windows were painted over, so no view to the outside. She winced as she moved, her jaw aching and her head pounding with every beat of her heart. Oh, God… Sam…

“What about the guy you beat half to death. Will he be fine?”

Her captor tilted his head. “They hauled him off to the hospital. I’m sure he’ll live.”

She stared back at him, venom in her gaze. “He’d better.”

He chuckled quietly. “Listen, all you need to worry about is that your boyfriend does what he’s told. Then everybody can go home, nobody else needs to get hurt.”

“Right. Except him.”

He shook his head. “As long as he does his job, he’s good.”

“I thought this was all about revenge for the shooting.”

“I want one thing, and one thing only, and a cop is the only one who can get it for me. Speaking of… it’s about time to make a call. Since you’re awake and so chatty. Because I’m sure he’s gonna want to talk to you.” He stood back up, pulling a phone from his pocket – it was hers. He placed the call and put it on speaker, waiting silently for an answer.

“Jordan?”

“Wrong. I am Jordan-adjacent, though.”

“She’d better be in perfect health, you dick, or...”

“She’s fine. Just shut up and listen. Remember a couple of months ago, the big drug bust, made all the papers?”

Dean was silent for a moment, and Jordan pictured him closing his eyes, dreading what was coming next. “Yeah.”

“Well, Detective – all that cocaine? That was mine. You’re gonna go to the evidence lock-up, take it all out, and bring it to me. Three duffle bags, no tricks.”

“You’re fucking crazy.”

“Crazy or not, it’s mine – and I want it back. I don’t care how you do it – not my problem. You get me that coke, and your little spitfire here gets to live.”

“I’m not doing shit until I talk to Jordan. I need to know she’s okay.”

“Yeah, I figured as much.” The masked man knelt down in front of her and held the phone closer to her. “Go ahead, talk.”

“Dean?” Her voice quavered as she fought tears for the first time since her ordeal had begun.

“Jordan, are you hurt?”

“I’m okay. Dean, is Sam...”

“Sam’s gonna be fine. Don’t worry.”

Her captor rose to his feet again. “Okay, that’s enough for now. I’ll call you in one hour with instructions.”

Jordan swallowed a sob, tears slowly trailing down her cheeks as he ended the call. “You’re insane. How is he supposed to steal drugs from the police lockup?”

“He’ll figure it out. He’d better.” He turned and reached to grab her by the arm, pulling her to her feet. “And now, since our little phone call is done – you can go into the storage closet so we can take off these fucking masks. Hope you appreciate how careful I’ve been to make sure you can survive this little transaction.”

She shot him a glance full of spite. “I’ll send you a fruit basket.”

He laughed. “You know, different circumstances, I think I could really like you.” He unlocked and opened the door to a large walk-in closet, windowless and dark except for vents high up near the ceiling that let scant light in from the room outside. He moved farther into the room, lowering her down next to the wall. A blonde sat across from her, arms held close against her body. “Brought you a roommate. Play nice.” He turned and left the room, locking the door with a loud click and walking away.

The girl looked up at Jordan, her expression stoic. “So you’re the one.”

“The one what?”

“The one I was supposed to grab the first time.”

Jordan leaned her head back against the wall. “You’re Megan? What are you doing in here? I thought you were working with these assholes.”

Megan looked away. “I was supposed to do their dirty work for them. Didn’t work out so well.”

“Sucks when you piss off the boss,” Jordan muttered resentfully, and the blonde’s head raised back up, her blue eyes angry.

“Look, I didn’t… I mean, I knew what I was doing, but I just – I wanted justice for my brother. They lied to me. I found out, after… I tracked down a couple of people that were there that night, people that are still hiding because they’re afraid of these fuckers. They told me what happened. That your cop boyfriend didn’t have any choice. And I was pissed, I called these asshats and told them I wanted to meet.”

“I take it they didn’t like what you had to say.”

“I told them I didn’t like being lied to and used, and that I was done. And they told me that was too bad, because they couldn’t let me go since I knew too much. And I tried to get away, but they broke my fucking arm and knocked me out, locked me up in here.”

Jordan was silent for a moment, the only sound the other girl’s agitated breathing as she fought to control herself. “I’m sorry. I’m sorry I assumed… Do you know who they are?”

Megan shook her head. “No. They wore masks when I met them, before that it was just phone contact.”

After a few seconds of silence, Jordan spoke softly. “They want Dean to steal cocaine from the evidence lockup and bring it to them. Supposedly, if they get what they want, they’ll let us go.”

Megan let out a derisive snort. “I’ll believe that when it happens. They’re already on the hook for murder, I doubt if they give a shit about a couple more.”

Resting her aching head against the wall, Jordan let out a sigh. “I know.”

Dean gripped his phone so hard that his hand shook, and Donna put a firm hand on his forearm. “Calm down. Losing it right now isn’t going to help anybody, Dean.”

He looked at the technician sitting behind the monitor, and she shook her head before dropping her eyes. “No trace. Damn it, Donna, what the hell am I supposed to do?”

“Cap’s office, now - brainstorm. We’ll figure it out.”

After a quick knock, the partners were invited to enter, and they both plopped down into the chairs in front of the Captain’s desk. “So what are we dealing with?”

Dean filled him in on the ransom call, and the Captain leaned back in his chair, looking Dean in the eye. “You know we can’t just give them the coke, Detective.”

“There’s got to be something we can do. He’s calling in one hour to give us the drop instructions,” Donna said, forcing herself to remain calm. “Can we put dye packs...”

“They said no tricks. They’ll check for that. We can’t risk it.” Dean bit back, and she took a breath before trying again.

“Okay, they demanded we bring the drugs in three duffle bags. We put a tracker in them.”

The Captain spoke up. “In all probability, they’ll expect that and switch to their own bags when we make the drop.”

Dean moved forward, his forearms braced on his knees. “Okay, so we put a tracker in the coke. Let forensics open one up, put it in the middle so it can’t be seen, and seal it back up exactly like it was before. Then we can track it to their destination.” The Captain narrowed his eyes, considering, and Dean continued. “Sir, I swear on my life I won’t let them get away with those drugs. But you have to let us do this.”

The Captain thought for a few moments before sitting upright and blowing out a loud breath. He nodded, then said reluctantly, “Okay, I’ll sign the order. I’m holding you to your word.”

Dean closed his eyes for a moment, breathing a sigh of relief. “We won’t let you down, Cap.”

The older man’s words followed them out the door. “You damn well better not.”

Jordan looked up as the door rattled, then swung inward. Her captor knelt down in front of her, setting a bottle of water nearby. “Lean up, I’ll cut your hands loose. Can’t do anything in here, anyway.”

She did as she was told, relieved to be able to move her arms, and gratefully accepted the water. “Thanks,” she muttered grudgingly, and he moved over to set water down near her fellow prisoner. “She needs a doctor, you know.”

He rose to his feet and turned, moving back towards the door. “After I have my property, she can see all the doctors she wants.”

Megan looked down at the bottle, shaking her head as the door closed and locked again. “And how the hell does he think I’m gonna open this?”

Jordan stood up, stretching her aching shoulders, and walked over, kneeling down to open the bottle. Megan’s face looked flushed, her eyes glazed over a little, and Jordan laid a hand on her forehead. “You’re feverish. Maybe they’ll at least give us some aspirin.”

Megan huffed out a sarcastic laugh. “Don’t count on it.”

Jordan went to the door and pounded, shouting. “Hey! Anybody out there? Can we get some aspirin?”

A loud bang on the other side of the door startled her back a step. “Shut the fuck up in there! Be glad you got water.”

Megan gave her a half-smile. “Told you. But thanks for trying.”

“Assholes,” Jordan said under her breath, stripping off the button-down she was wearing over her tank top and kneeling back down in front of Megan.

“What the hell are you doing?” she asked, watching Jordan fold and re-fold the shirt until she was satisfied with the results.

“You have to be exhausted trying to hold your arm like that. I thought maybe a sling would help.” She carefully slipped the makeshift sling under Megan’s injured forearm, taking the sleeves behind her neck and tying them into a knot. The girl sighed with relief as she relaxed her shoulder, letting the shirt cradle her arm.

“Thank you.” Jordan smiled at her and headed back to her spot against the wall.

“You’re welcome.”

Dean ended his call and stuffed his phone back into his pocket, turning to Donna. “Sam’s out of surgery, everything’s good.”

His partner sighed with relief and smiled. “Thank God. One of the guys from forensics just finished up with the tracker. Everything’s ready to go.”

As if on cue, Dean’s phone rang, and he grabbed it from his pocket, nodding towards the tech who would be trying to trace the call. When the officer signaled, Dean answered. “Yeah.”

“I assume that you’ve got my coke ready to deliver?”

“Yeah. Just tell me where and when so we can get this over with.” The man rattled off an address, and Dean repeated it. “I want to talk to Jordan. Make sure she’s still okay.”

“No more time for socializing right now. She’s fine. You’ll just have to trust me.”

“Like hell I will.”

“You don’t have a choice. Meet me at that address in 45 minutes, come alone, and I’ll give you her location so you can have a nice, long chat with your girl.” The call ended abruptly, and Dean swore, his teeth clenched together in frustrated anger.

Donna put a hand on his shoulder. “Hey. We’re gonna nail these bastards.”

He took a breath, his expression taut and determined. “Fuckin’ right. And she’d better be okay, or I swear to God...”

“She’ll be okay. She’s smart, and she’s tough, and you’re gonna get her back.”

Dean pulled into the parking lot, eyes scanning the area. “You can still hear me?” he asked, and a tinny affirmative reply came through his earpiece. Donna and two other squad cars were parked a couple of blocks away, and the SWAT van was another block over and north, their tracking equipment set up to follow the cocaine after the drop.

A dark, nondescript SUV pulled into the lot and parked a couple of car lengths away. Dean exited the car, tugging his vest down and taking a couple of steps to the front of the car. His contact climbed out of his vehicle, mask in place, moving forward a few steps and then taking a wide-legged stance, his arms folded over his chest. “Okay, let’s get this party started.” Dean nodded, opening the trunk and grabbing the bags, walking forward until the man shouted for him to stop. “Drop the bags right there.”

“Where is she?” Dean responded, still holding them, challenge in his eyes.

“When we conclude our business, I’ll tell you. Now drop the bags.”

He did as he was told, muttering under his breath, “I’m gonna kill this fucker.”

Donna’s voice came back, “No, you’re not. Just take a breath, partner.”

At a motion from the man in charge, a couple of masked men exited the vehicle, empty duffle bags in hand. They knelt on the ground and began to transfer the cocaine to their own bags, and Dean walked back to close the trunk on his cruiser. “What’s the matter, don’t trust me?”

“Oh, come on, Detective. Like I don’t know they’d put some kind of tracker in those bags. I don’t blame you, don’t worry. I’m sure your commanding officer insisted.” His men finished loading the coke and retreated back to the SUV, tossing their prize into the back before getting back inside. The driver pulled a phone from his pocket, dialing and speaking a few quiet words before looking towards Dean and speaking.

“All right. Well done, Detective. You’ll find your little spitfire in a storage building two blocks north of here.” Dean moved quickly towards his door, but the man called out again. “Also, you have a choice – you can have your backup try to follow us – or you can get to that storage building and save those girls. Seems a fire got started in there somehow. Your choice. Better hurry, though.”

Dean was in his car, engine roaring to life, as he spoke to Donna. “Did you hear that? Meet me there, let SWAT track the coke!”

“You got it!” the answer came back, and Dean squealed the tires, heading north. His foot to the floor, his eyes scanned frantically for smoke as he approached the two-block area, and he screeched to a halt in front of the building, smoke already pouring from a broken window on the side. His backup pulled in a few seconds later as he reached the door, placing a palm against it to test for heat.

“Bring the battering ram!” He shouted, knowing it was futile to try to kick in the steel-reinforced door, and two officers came at a run with the tool in hand. “Call fire!” he shouted over his shoulder as the third slam into the door sent it flying inward, the frame splintering. Donna and two other officers entered right behind him, skirting the fire and searching the building.

Dean headed straight for the closet, hearing Jordan pounding on the door and calling out. “Help! We’re in here!”

“Stand back from the door!” he shouted, waited a few seconds, and let the battering ram do its work. “Jordan!” He rushed into the room, letting his relief wash over him for a split second before taking her arm and shoving her towards an officer. “Get her out of here!”

“Dean! Megan needs help, she’s sick, and her arm is broken,” Jordan called out to him, then let the officer lead her out.

He nodded, heading Megan’s direction. “Okay, Megan, I’m just going to pick you up and carry you out. Can you get your good arm around my neck?” The girl nodded, and Dean bent to pick her up, as careful as he could be not to jostle her arm.

Fire and Rescue were just pulling in, and Dean carried Megan directly to the ambulance, waiting for the EMTs to ready the gurney before laying her down. “You okay?” he asked, and she nodded, and he stepped back to allow the paramedics to do their job. He turned, eyes searching until he spotted Jordan being hugged by Donna, and in a few long strides, he was there, pulling her into his arms.

He held her tight, letting her sob softly into his chest until she quieted down. “Thank you,” she whispered as he pulled back, looking down into her eyes. He touched her face, barely brushing over her bruised jaw and gently touching the cut over her eyebrow, beautifully framing her black eye.

“Got quite a shiner, there,” he said, and she nodded, wincing.

“Yeah, they, uh – they slammed my head into the steering wheel.”

He pressed a soft kiss to her lips. “Baby, I’m so sorry.”

“Not your fault. Sam...”

“Sam’s okay. He’s out of surgery, he’ll be fine, hospital called me.” Another ambulance pulled in, and he brushed his knuckles over her uninjured cheek. “I’m sorry, Jordan, but you need to go in and get checked out.” She looked into his eyes, watching the guilty struggle there, and put her hand over his.

“Dean – go. Catch those assholes. They’ll take care of me.”

After a moment’s pause, he finally nodded. “Okay. Let’s get you in the ambulance, then Donna and I will go help SWAT take out the trash.”

Chapter 9

#meant to be #chapter 8 #dean fic #dean x oc #dean x jordan

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my-writings-and-musings · 4 years ago

Text

Latest part of my commission series from an awesome person, now on part three of the Brave Police hanging with the Lost Light!

Kazuto Azuma had known nothing but one long, continuing headache from the moment he'd allowed the Brave Police to be commissioned. Between their eventual acclimation of sentience to the constant additions to their numbers, they'd turned what was supposed to be a public relations move into a nightmare of paperwork and legal ramifications, mostly to be dealt with by him.

And all for what, so they could have feelings? Emotions that did nothing to help while they were on the job, and only resulted in insubordination and disaster for his end? He doubted anyone could live a day in his shoes and see them as anything but a gigantic inconvenience, and an expensive one at that!

Thus, it seemed fitting that he hadn't time to celebrate their apparent loss in space before receiving a message that they were somehow fine, and worse, had been rescued by Cybertronians.

Reading the transcript again, word for word, the vice commissioner had to resist the urge to crumple it into garbage. Of all the fates they could have met, of all the ways he could have finally been rid of them, they had been picked up by the biggest robotic nuisance in the galaxy? Even if they had spent little time in Japan, Cybertronians had made their mark well known on earth, and the litany of restrictions against them spoke to the nature of their destructive presence. Despite being machines, they had no inclination nor any kind of desire to heed the will of humans, and thus every government they dealt with was left with a huge and expensive mess. Knowing that the already rowdy Brave Police were in such company was… disturbing. Who was to say what horrible habits they could pick up while cruising back to Earth at such an apparent lackadaisical speed? Just the rudeness it took to return with "relaxed urgency" as the message had put it was enough to make his blood boil, and he had no reason to believe the few days it would take for them to arrive might leave them even more unmanageable by the end.

At the very least, before it came to that, he had a rare opportunity in a tiny window of time. Neither the Tomonaga brat nor Saejima knew any of this yet, and he was in no rush to let them know of the development. Surely it wouldn't be too bad if they received the news a little late, continuing to believe the bots were MIA in the depths of space, while he made a little call.

Adjusting his suit to appear less ruffled, he left his office behind and ventured into the depths of the building, where the communication center was nestled amongst a swarm of high tech enhancements and long range experimental equipment. It was here the first message had been received, and it was here he would send back a reply. Staff, already informed of the plan, set to work as soon as he arrived. The report had mentioned that there was some unknown and invisible "tether" of sorts connecting to their end, likely a way for long distance communication to happen instantaneously even when only one side had the technology to make it happen, and had likely been left in place for the express purpose of getting a reply back. Azuma intended to use it for just such a thing.

A great monitor for communicating visually faced him in the pulpit where he'd chosen to stand, and he made it a point to ensure he was presentable. Robots or not, it was important he established he was a prominent figure that required respect, assuming the Brave Police hadn't had the last of that knocked out of them by their troublesome rescuers…

"It it ready?" he asked after checking his watch, knowing that he only had as long as it took for Saejima or Yuuta to arrive and receive their initial briefing. It had taken all of his influence to ensure they weren't informed immediately, so he had to make the delay count.

"Yes, Mr. Azuma." an engineer replied hastily, nodding to his co-workers with a neutral expression of assent. Several great switches were flipped and the building hummed with tremendous energy, the invisible tether for communication igniting to allow an instantaneous connection across the vastness of space.

-----

Sitting idly at the bridge, Rodimus allowed himself to more or less sink into the captain's chair in boredom, wishing desperately that he could be at the bar having fun with their guests like everyone else. But, of course, plotting a reroute to Earth didn't happen on it's own. For reasons he couldn't begin to understand, the Brave Police had indeed been insistent about returning home with relative speed. It was only because of the message they'd been able to send that he'd been able to get them to take it slow at all… Ah well, at least they did seem to be happy about going home. Earth did have its charms-

An unexpected beep from an incoming message made him flail nearly to the point of crashing, but thankfully he managed to catch himself and flip right side up, plopping down into a somewhat respectable position in his chair just as the computer brought through the signal.

A face so grumpy it would have made Magnus appear sociable appeared on screen, and Rodimus recognized the speaker as human just before he began speaking the same language used by the Brave Police. "This is Kazuto Azuma, Vice-Commissioner of the Brave Police Force in Tokyo, Japan. Who am I speaking with?"

"Uh, Rodimus, Captain of the Lost Light." he replied automatically, having heard friendlier opening statements from enemies about to open fire. There was also no memory of this person being mentioned by the Braves, but he had figured their organization was a big one, so he tried to take the helpful route. "What can I do for you?"

"Are the Brave Police in your custody?" Azuma asked pointedly, and Rodimus knew with just a few words he wasn't going to like this particular human. Just managing to hold off a frown, he replied with a carefully chosen sentence, folding his hands together to keep them from forming fists.

"They're our guests, yeah." he said, hearing approaching footsteps from the side door. Judging by the pace and weight, they belonged to Magnus, who could always be expected to check in when a message came in. Thankfully the mech also had the sense to be subtle about it, so Rodimus made no move to acknowledge the big bot when he stepped quietly into the room off camera. Having a calm bastion of reason was going to be critical in keeping this from becoming an incident.

"Per your communication, you are not making utmost haste to return to Earth, is that correct?" Azuma asked, the question sounding more like an accusation to Rodimus given the aggressive way it was delivered. It proved to be one when he wasn't even allowed a chance to reply before he was being chewed out. "I demand an immediate increase in your speed, they must be returned to us as fast as your technology allows!"

Dentae clenching, he tried to hide how thoroughly enraged the tone made him, especially with the particular choice of words. Did this guy really think he had any kind of authority here? Was he so callous to the Brave Police that he regarded them as nothing but cargo to be shipped overnight? With Magnus tensing by his side, Rodimus just managed to reply without visibly clenching his jaw. "Is there some kind of emergency you need them for? Because otherwise, I don't think you have the authority to make that kind of order."

"That is none of your business, Cybertronian." Azuma retorted, practically sneering at the immature bot who was refusing to do what he was told. Assuming that the Braves would pick up anything from such hosts, he was certain it would be uncooperative behavior like this, and at this rate that seemed more and more unavoidable… He'd probably have to try and convince the Commission to reprogram the entire group.

"It's Rodimus, human." Rodimus sneered right back, gradually letting his scant efforts to look professional fade out into open contempt. Every word seemed to confirm his worst fears about earth and the Brave Police, and he was beginning to doubt the wisdom of just dropping them off back home. With people like Azuma about, it seemed equivalent to leaving a group of cybersheep surrounded by hungry turbofoxes, and he was not about to let those bots come to harm. Sitting back more formally in his chair, Rodimus tried to cut an intimidating figure. "This is my ship, so that means if you expect it to jump, I need to know why."

"This is pointless." Azuma clipped, sputtering as he fought to keep his anger in check to avoid looking too flustered. Looking about what little of the ship he could see, he tried to find any trace of the bots he was looking for. At the moment he'd settle for anything more cooperative than this fire patterned Cybertronian. "Where are you keeping the Brave Police? I must speak with them."

"Okay, because you're having a hard time grasping this, we aren't keeping them anywhere. They're not cargo, they're our guests." Rodimus replied, standing up from his chair as the energon in his veins started to run hot. If a human could be so condescending now, what did those bots have to endure on a day to day basis? Protective instincts told him to never give a human the opportunity to hurt them again, leaving him tempted to kill the communication as Azuma sputtered through an increasingly red face.

"That-"

"Secondly, you aren't going to just hop on my channel and start barking orders." Rodimus interrupted, not intending to give the man a second to recuperate. He wanted the tiny organic to realize he had no power here, and that the Brave Police would not have to endure any further bullying on his watch.

Azuma, never one to put the pieces together expediently if he didn't like the picture, continued to press every metaphorical button possible to anger the captain. "This is absurd! I don't know how your laws, if you have them, presume to function but by the standards of earth you're in possession of stolen property!"

Rodimus felt his vents hitch, and thankfully Magnus was already mobilizing just before he could finish the thought someone might eventually regret.

"Now that's where I'm gonna need you to stop-"

"I can assist with this matter." Ultra Magnus said plainly, stepping into the video and laying a hand on Rodimus's shoulder. The gesture appeared amicable, but was more than a little forceful, pushing the captain back into a seating position. Reading the intent loud and clear, the smaller mech still pouted as he conceded and sat back down. Choosing the smart path never felt as good, especially because Azuma looked pleased by the turn of events as Magnus took over. "Greetings, Mr. Azuma, I am Ultra Magnus. Perhaps the best way to proceed is to allow the Brave Police to speak for themselves? I have already asked that they come to the Bridge."

"Acceptable." Azuma replied simply, appearing less ruffled but no more amicable. At the very least he was silent until a group of bots audibly approached at full speed, and after just a minute of tense silence their wait ended and the bots of the hour entered the room.

Rodimus couldn't help tensing at how the human regarded the group with barely concealed contempt.

"Vice-Commissioner, we came as soon as we heard you were in contact!" Deckerd said the moment he stepped into the Bridge, snapping to a salute that his companions mirrored with varying amounts of success. It was a greeting so proper and well mannered one would have thought they were interacting with a popular superior, and the effort they'd put in made Rodimus frown with dissatisfaction. Azuma didn't even bother with a wave as they continued. "As stated in our message, we are all intact and accounted for, and will be arriving at earth in due course!"

There was an awkward silence and a dissatisfied glare from the human before he went right into criticism. "Why are you not returning at full speed?"

Deckerd wavered in his salute, and those around him did the same. There was a moment where the bot looked about almost helpless for a reply, before carefully stringing his words together, helm lowered the whole time like a child caught in the wrong. "We… we do not want to pressure our hosts, Mr. Azuma. They have been most accommodating-"

"Ah, so you've been content to stall up there, lazing around while we need you back on Earth?!" Azuma snapped, interrupting the police bot so aggressively he flinched. Rodimus clenched his servos into fists, knowing that getting involved would lead to a huge mess but caring less with every passing moment. Seeing the bright and happy bots pressed into a corner was making him absolutely enraged, to the point the air about him wavered from the heat. Only a firm hand on his shoulder from an equally simmering Magnus kept him in check.

"Their technology is quite advanced, but it would still be strained by an immediate trip to Earth." McCrane offered helpfully, stepping in as he always did when things were tense. A grateful smile in his direction from Deckerd was so subtle and quick it may have been a trick of the light.

"We would not wish to cause our rescuers any kind of harm or stress." Duke confirmed, stepping to the front with a level of calm control not yet seen by anyone on the ship. The transformation from shy and quiet to bold and in control impressed the Cybertronians present immensely, but had no impact on the fuming Azuma, who didn't take well to being told no in very certain terms.

"Unacceptable!" he barked, making Drill Boy flinch and step closer to the others for security. Though they appeared quite accustomed to the man's badgering, the stress was no less considerable, and they all shared the same tense mannerisms of a cornered animal. Rodimus could feel himself reaching his boiling point, and knew it was now a matter of when rather than if. There'd be no holding him back once that was reached, and thankfully Magnus appeared to be in similar straights. One could almost see the anger breaking through his usually stoic frown.

"Are you really trying to convince me there is no way for you to arrive sooner? That you're just going to laze about in space because there are no other options?!" Azuma said, grilling the Brave Police so readily it was obvious he had considerable experience with the task. It hit Rodimus in that moment; this was merely how they were treated with an audience, what was this man like in private? What terrible things had he said or done to these bots when no one was there to protect them? The thought flipped a powerful switch inside him, and before he knew it he was rising from his chair, having been given free reign to do so by an equally protective Magnus.

"Vice-Commissioner-"

"Alright, I don't think we're communicating effectively here." Rodimus said loudly, stepping in front of the Brave Police to form a physical barrier with his larger frame. Deckerd appeared worried by the action, but the captain didn't flinch, putting his hands on his hips as he faced the monitor with a plastered on smile. "Look buddy, maybe your human technology is buggy so you're not hearing us clearly…"

Azuma fumed, visibly growing hot under his collar as the bot he had no power over flounced about before him. "You-"

"So allow me to make it loud and clear! They'll be there in a few days at the earliest, got it?" Rodimus replied, cupping a hand beside his mouth so he could bark the words back as loudly and obnoxiously as physically possible.

"I do not believe you understand the situation!" Azuma sputtered, and Rodimus was tempted to reply with something far more crass than what he eventually settled on.

"Try me!"

"Perhaps it is unclear, due to personal reasons fogging your judgement, but the Brave Police are the property of the Japanese government! You risk a great incident by delaying their return!" the Vice-Commissioner said, unintentionally striking the deepest possible nerve within every bot present. Rodimus felt something snap inside of him at the way the word property was uttered, and he was so revolted the human was able to take advantage of his horrified silence to continue. "They may look like you, but they are Earth made, not Cybertronian! Their physical appearance should tell you that much."

Magnus stiffened at his side, the big mech's equivalent to what would have been a shocked gasp by most other bots. Through sheer incompetence, Azuma had managed to put together an insult so grave no Cybertronian could let it stand, though the Brave Police themselves appeared resigned to the treatment. Only a murmur from Drill Boy came in response.

"Is he calling us ugly?" the dejected little bot said just loud enough to be heard from his fellows, and a simultaneously comforting and silencing hand was laid on his shoulder by Shadow Maru.

"Okay, see… I thought we were getting along okay here, but I think things are getting out of hand…" Rodimus said in a halfway bitter laugh, pinching the bridge of his nasal ridge as the full torrent of anger he wanted to unleash stewed inside of him. Though there were quite a few foul words in the mix, he cared very little for propriety, especially when none had been directed their way since the conversation had begun. "Because I can't help telling you what a massive and egotistical-

"Rodimus!" Deckerd whispered in warning, his frightened expression only managing to fuel the fire. After all, why would these bots be afraid, except if terrible things could happen if they disobeyed? He was going to go nuclear on their behalf, just to make it clear there was nothing to fear while they were with him.

"Vice-Commissioner!"

Every single being involved in the conversation froze when a voice cut through from the other end of the call, echoing through the long distance tether as someone approached Azuma from an out of frame location. Rodimus lost all of his fire and only stared in total confusion as the once haughty human blanched at the sight of whomever had called for him, and the expression of worry only intensified as the voice cut it again.

"Vice-Commissioner, what is the meaning of this?!" the unknown speaker said, their tone gruff but somehow personable and animated as their laid into the other man from offscreen. A look in the direction of the Brave Police revealed only a shared smile of relief amongst them.

"C-Commissioner!" Azuma sputtered, stepping away from the podium to meet with whomever had arrived. The Lost Light was treated to a somewhat distorted view of the out of focus man they'd just been arguing with as he tried and failed to make his case. A sharp rebuttal was issued before a single word could pass his lips.

"You received word that the Brave Police are alive and well, and we were not informed immediately?!" a man said as he appeared suddenly in the view, advancing upon Azuma with his greater height and build as the smaller Vice-Commissioner backed up at every word. To the surprise of a greatly entertained Rodimus, a small human appeared as well, undoubtedly a child. The little boy glared up at Azuma with all the rage Rodimus had been feeling moments prior and then some.

"You jerk, how could you lie to us!?"

Azuma ignored the child altogether to retort to his apparent boss, pointing at the screen where Rodimus was still front and center with his current expression of total bafflement. As if it would clear his transgressions, he announced his argument for everything with as much desperation as could be packed into so few words. "Saejima, they're with Cybertronians!"

Worlds apart, the two groups fell into total and oppressive silence. Rodimus met the eyes of the man called Saejima, and immediately got the sense he was dealing with someone who actually had a backbone and a conscience just by the way he apologized with his expression alone. Clearing his throat, the man gave his subordinate a flat look and spoke with undeniable authority.

"We shall discuss this later."

Like any bully, the defeated Azuma slunk off, leaving his superior to clear his throat and take center stage on the pulpit. The confused child remained at his side when he finally addressed the Autobots.

"My apologies." he said calmly, giving Rodimus the comfort he needed to step in line with the Brave Police so they could be seen far more clearly. The man smiled as he caught sight of the bots. "Is everyone safe and accounted for-"

Without any warning, the child lit up as he saw the Brave Police, his wide eyes locking on Deckerd as he ran up to the monitor as if it were a barrier. Tears began to flow unabated as he cried out in a voice choked with emotion. "Deckerd?! Deckerd, are you there?!"

In another surprise for Rodimus, the always restrained police car pushed right past him and mirrored the boy's actions, his optics lighting up as he replied with equal jubilation.

"Yuuta!" he cried happily, his tone alone making it clear he adored the little human bawling his eyes out a billion miles away. Rodimus and Magnus exchanged shared looks of total surprise and confusion. Neither had ever seen a human and a bot so incredibly close, and the two weren't even done.

Sniffling so hard he could barely talk, Yuuta tried in vain to wipe away tears, looking to each of the Brave Police as tears continued streaming down his face. "Deckerd! Build Team! Everyone!" Each and every bot came behind Deckerd to joyfully greet the human Rodimus recalled was their fabled "boss", and judging by their smiles none felt anything but relief to see him again. The crying adolescent made it clear why they all loved Earth with a single heartfelt phrase. "You're all okay!"

"We're more than okay, these guys rule!" Drill Boy interjected, clamoring over the bigger bots to be seen.

"They've welcomed us into their home, and they're bringing us home while showing us the sights on the way back!" Power Joe said, gushing as if describing a vacation.

"Boss, please tell Ayako I am safe! I know she'll only believe it from you!" Dumpson said, spurring McCrane to make a similar request.

"Please tell Seia the same!"

"Make sure nobody touches my bike until I get back, that includes you!" Gunmax said playfully, obviously just messing with the little human. Yuuta nodded and smiled through his tears, overwhelmed with happy relief that Rodimus had to admit was beyond touching to witness.

"Stay safe, miniboss." Shadow Maru said simply, and at his side, Duke cleared his vents before speaking softly.

"Make sure Regina is okay, she won't admit that she's worried." he said, and Yuuta nodded in acknowledgment and a kind of deep understanding.

"As you can see, Commissioner, we are all doing quite well." Deckerd said once everyone had spoken their peace, smiling as he was shushed in amongst the group. Saejima smiled in kind, and Rodimus found something inherently trustworthy in the expression.

"That is a relief." he said calmly, sighing ad a great weight of worry disappeared from his relaxing shoulders. "I must apologize on behalf of my subordinate once again, Captain. Please excuse his behavior, as he does not speak for us. We are beyond grateful for your actions."

"Thank you for rescuing my friends." Yuuta added, finally getting his tears under control long enough to speak clearly. Rodimus found his spark flickering at all the gratitude he felt hit him from a galaxy away.

"Uh, no problem. We'll get them home safely." he said, a little unsure of himself at the total whiplash the conversation had taken. How was it that a planet capable of producing an Azuma could also have people like this? Then again, the same could be said of Cybertron several times over, couldn't it?

"Mr. Commissioner!" the offscreen voice of an engineer said with urgency. "I apologize for the inconvenience, but this communication is taxing our equipment heavily! I'm afraid we have to end the call."

"Understood!" Saejima said, speaking fast in the wake of the news. "Until we speak next, just let me say that you have our highest gratitude!"

As the older man jumped into a full salute, Yuuta spoke with the speed only a child could manage, bouncing between his various concerns as the video began to fade. "Call again soon! I miss you guys! Stay safe but have fun!"

The Brave Police gushed out their farewells, waving and promising to do so with such excitement that Rodimus found himself unintentionally joining in with a tiny wave of his own before the screen went dark. He was left speechless when it did, but the bots at his side turned to each other and began to talk amongst themselves with unimaginable excitement. A million different things were said at once, most of which were praise for their tiny boss. The Captain of the Lost Light could only look on in awe at their happy circle of friends, one that just minutes before had been reduced to anxious silence at a being from the same planet.

It occurred to him in that moment why they truly wanted to go home, and he found himself smiling at the thought. Just as there were those on this ship who wanted to keep them safe, so we're there individuals on Earth to do the same. They were really loved wherever they went…

A flash of amusement tickled his spark as he thought about all those friends reacting once they heard about this call. Their protective instincts would undoubtedly be the same as his, especially for dear Tailgate, who'd more or less claimed the group as his adoptive younger brothers… along with the entire crew. It seemed they had a young human to add to that rank now.

#transformers #maccadam #mtmte #more than meets the eye #lostlight #lost light #idw #tf #ll #my writing #my commissions #brave series #brave police j decker #brave police

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