He Makes The Stars Shine Brighter [Sting x Reader] || First Book

20 : A Declaration Of

» edited : 04.10.2017

[a/n]: okay i'm just going to post a decent-er quality chapter to try and redeem myself for that deadass bullshit i posted yesterday smh what was i thinking.

edit : i removed the rape joke, and i sincerely apologize to anybody i've offended ^^'

x x

Long story short, it took a handful of make-up kisses, probably a novel's worth of apologies, a lot of soap and the promise of a meal worthy of a wealthy official before you at least got Sting to stop yelling.

( Though more than half of those apologies were uttered in between giggles, because how could somebody not laugh while apologizing to a crossdressing guy who had penises sloppily drawn all over his face? )

"I can't even believe you," Sting grumbles exasperatedly into a damp towel that was turning black from marker ink smeared all over it.

"I said I was sorry!" 

"Two barbecued steaks, chicken, some soup, a waffle and ice cream before you're getting any of this with my consent," Sting gestures to his body, while you wonder how Sting can eat that much ( more, if he wanted to, ) and still possess a body that would make even Greek gods green with envy.

Sting was rambling something about how he wanted all his meat to be cooked tender and served warm, but his one-sided conversation appeared meager in the face of the thundering burst of the guild doors opening.

Standing in the doorway were Freed, Evergreen, Bickslow and Laxus, all ratty, torn, and breathless from what could have only been a particularly brutal fight, though from what you could pick apart in your memory, which was still hazy from the numbness caused by the booze, the group was asked to help out at a modest, new restaurant. There was no physical fight between some incensed customers any of them couldn't handle- a bruised cheek, a cut lip, maybe, but not a storm of grazes and cuts that ravaged each and every one of them.

Quickly, they were shooed into the guild infirmary, receiving a look-over from Porlyusica, and many, many concerned looks from the other members who've rubbed shoulders with the self-formed tribe at least once. They belonged to the more capable latter of Fairy Tail wizards, and though their pasts were bleeding with malice they've tried so hard to wipe away, they were all good people.

"How are Laxus and the others?! Are they okay?!" Master Makarov yelled, his aged features twisted into an unmistakable concern.

"They're alive, but their bodies are permeated with magic barriers," Porlyusica exercises an impassiveness so well-rehearsed from her many years of practicing medicine, but the way her fingers linger as she bandages the wounded betray the concern she's trying to mask, "The contamination is especially bad in Laxus's body."

There are murmurs from the audience. Murmurs of pity, murmurs of compassion, murmurs of boiling rage. You wonder where your utterance of Laxus's name categorized in.

"You did well bringing everyone back home," Makarov pats the blanket that's lying over Freed's body.

"Thanks to Laxus. . .the town was saved," Freed breathes out the words painfully, forces it out of his body like phlegm-infested hacks.

From somewhere, mingled in the sea of wizards and mages, you can feel an unmistakable presence, one that puts itself out there so shamelessly, and when you turn your head and glance sideways, you can see it blossom fully : Natsu Dragneel, with his fingers curled inwards into menacing fists, etching a promise of certain doom into the atmosphere.

"The gates of hell, Tartaros," Natsu spits out the name disdainfully, his gaze pierces Makarov's back, and the twitch of the old man's shoulders meant that he perfectly understood.