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silhouetteofacedar · 4 years ago

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Fox Mulder, Closet Romantic Ch. 8: Primate Social Behavior

Previous Chapter - AO3 - MSR, rated E

Well fuck.

Scully, to her credit, shifts gears immediately. “Mark, what a pleasant surprise!” she says, all traces of panic gone. “How was the overnight shift?” She gets up out of the booth and gives him a hug.

“Nothing notable aside from a couple reckless Saturday-night partiers and a childbirth,” he replies, dropping a kiss to the crown of Scully’s head. That’s my spot, Mulder thinks in a flash of petulance.“How about you two?” Mark asks, glancing at him. “Work late?”

Mulder is hit with a spike of nausea. He knows how this looks. They both have wet hair, and yet he’s got stubble and wrinkled clothes. They’re sloppy and drowsy and eating the exact same breakfast and oh shit this is not going to be good for her-

“You know how it is in fields like ours,” Scully says with an airy laugh, sliding back into her seat. “No such thing as a weekend.”

Damn, she’s cool as a cucumber. Mulder’s grateful, because he can barely hold himself together right now. He’s sweating down his back and his head is pounding.

“Would you like to join us?” Scully asks, gesturing to the place beside her in the booth.

Mark waves a hand. “Nah, I’m just getting a to-go order on my way home. I promised Mandy a banana muffin,” he explains. “I’ll call you later, Dana. Nice to see you again, Fox,” he adds, nodding to him.

“That was some fast thinking,” Mulder says, taking a minuscule bite of dry toast.

“How do you mean?” Scully asks, watching through the window as Mark walks down the street and out of sight.

“You acted like… like seeing him here, while looking like this…” he motions between them. “There was no shame.”

“Why would I be ashamed, Mulder?” she asks evenly.

He wilts under her blue gaze. “Forget I said anything,” he mumbles to his plate.

“No, go on. I want to hear this,” Scully says, leaning forward. “Is there something you think I should be embarrassed about here? Because the way I see it, I had a pleasant evening with my good friend, and we drank too much wine. He slept on my couch, and now we’re recovering with breakfast.” She takes a gulp of water. “Now, if there’s something you’re ashamed of…”

“No,” Mulder says carefully. “I’m just saying that appearances can be misleading, and the physical evidence - us, in our current states - is open to interpretation. However false those interpretations may be.”

Scully drops her fork to her plate with a clatter. “Jesus, Mulder, I’ve been trying to get that point across to you for years. Just because you see lights in the sky doesn’t mean they’re UFOs. Just because we’re both hungover and unkept, doesn’t mean that… that anything happened.”

“You gonna explain that to Mark? Because he looked a little suspicious.”

“If he poses any questions, I will. But from where I’m sitting, I see nothing to explain.” She picks up her fork and takes a purposeful bite of melon, punctuation at the end of the discussion.

His headache doesn’t start dying down until late that evening. He’s spent most of the day on his couch, alternately dozing and watching Animal Planet.

There’s a documentary about baboons on when the phone rings just after nine PM.

“Mulder,” he says tiredly.

“Fox? Fox, this is Mark Einolander,” the voice on the other end says. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything?”

Mulder sits up abruptly. “No, no; I’m just… i’m just watching this thing about baboons…” He scrambles to pull himself together. “Sorry, how did you get this number?”

“Maggie Scully,” Mark explains. “You’re one of Dana’s emergency contacts. I’m sorry to bother you, this not being an emergency, but I was hoping to talk to you about something.”

Mulder winces. It’s fine, he can’t punch you over the phone, he coaches himself. “I’m all ears,” he says, leaning back against the couch arm rest and reflexively clenching his fist in anxiety.

“First of all, I’d appreciate it if this conversation could be kept confidential,” Mark says.

“Then I should warn you, my phone’s been tapped a few times,” Mulder notes.

Mark chuckles. “I’m not worried about the government or whomever in this case,” he assures him. “I’d just prefer if Dana didn’t know.”

Mulder’s internal alarm bells start ringing. “Oh? Hate to break it to you, Mark, but you missed her birthday by nearly two months.”

Mark laughs. “I’ll make note of that,” he replies. “But I was actually hoping you could provide me with some clarity regarding a few things.”

“Such as…?”

“Well, you and Dana have been friends and partners for a long time, and I know she trusts and confides in you,” Mark says. “You of all people should know she’s a tough nut to crack, so to speak.”

“Uh huh,” Mulder replies, eyes cast to the ceiling.

“My relationship with her is very new, and we’re still getting to know each other; which means there are things I don’t believe are yet appropriate for me to ask.”

So don’t ask them, Mulder thinks with an eye roll. “Is there a point here, Mark? Because if there is I’d love for you to reach it,” he sighs.

“Of course. Sorry. What I mean is… this is very uncomfortable, I’m sorry. Has she… been with anybody? Recently? She told me she hasn’t dated in a long time, but that doesn’t necessarily mean she hasn’t… been around,” Mark finishes.

Mulder lets a stunned silence hang in the air for a moment. “Wow,” he says finally. “I was not expecting that,” he admits. His nausea from earlier has returned, and he gets off the couch and carries the cordless phone with him to the kitchen.

“Again, I’m sorry to ask, but I’m thinking long term. I want a future with Dana,” Mark rationalizes, “And insight into her character is invaluable to me. I have a young daughter, as you know. ”

Holy shit. Mulder tucks the phone between his cheek and shoulder, opening the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of ginger ale. “If you want character references, just ask her for a copy of her latest resumé,” Mulder says flatly, taking a swig of the soda. “Or call her mother. Hell, you know her priest, right? Ask him. Or skip the middle-man and dial God directly.”

Mark is quiet for a moment. “Oh. I see,” he says softly, and Mulder braces himself. “I suspected this morning, but I wanted to give you both the benefit of the doubt-”

“I don’t want to have this discussion with you,” Mulder cuts in.

“You fucked her, right? Maybe not last night, but it’s happened before, is that correct?”

The doctor’s sudden change of tone and word choice is jarring, and Mulder’s stomach turns over. “Look, Dr. Einolander, it’s late, and I’m not feeling a hundred percent today. I’d prefer to save this frankly offensive discussion for the day we meet in hell.”

He hears Mark intake a breath. “And it’s Mulder, not Fox,” he says, and punches the off button on the phone.

He barely makes it to the bathroom.

Mulder rinses his mouth in the sink, stares absently at his own haggard face in the mirror. Who knew nice, caring, Good-Father Dr. Mark was such a massive tool?

He brushes his teeth and puts on a fresh t-shirt before returning to the couch.

He has to tell Scully, right? He has to. Friends don’t let friends date judgmental douchebags. But he doesn’t want to get involved, he really doesn’t. He’s had reasons for not wanting her to date Mark since day one; tonight’s revelation is almost a gift, but one he feels like garbage accepting. He fears his personal feelings for her are going to skew his judgment in one way or another.

No matter what he does, he’s going to feel like shit.

So he does nothing; just lies on his couch like the coward he is, watching baboons fight over a mango.

#hello yes welcome to the I Hate Mark club #msr #txf fic #xfiles #my fic #fox mulder closet romantic #fmcr #slow burn is slooooowwww

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sevlgi · 4 years ago

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the florist

requested: no

group: dreamcatcher

pairing: jiu x fem!reader

genre: angst, questionable fluff

contents: hanahaki!au, florist!jiu

warnings: death

synopsis: When you find a beautiful death sentence clustered in your lungs, you can only visit the legendary florist. But is JiU herself as strong as she seems?

a/n: hiatus who? we don’t know her 🤡 i was actually gonna post this when it struck 12 on december 1st for me, but tumblr’s telling me it’s already december, so here we go!

word count: 3.3k

In all the years that the Hanahaki Disease had existed, there had never been a cure. And on the day that you coughed up the first blood-stained carnation, it became certain that you weren’t about to be the one to break the record.

You considered yourself to be decently cautious about the disease. After all, since you were a child, the only love lesson that you had ever been taught was to never, ever, be the first one in love. Your mother drilled that lesson, telling you that love was a poisonous thing to be avoided at all costs until you believed her.

And yet, you were stupid enough to allow her to wreck you, to allow yourself to become consumed by her.

It was unexpected, to say the least. Lee Siyeon had been a close friend for years, the two of you meeting during college, and she had been in love with someone else since then. You knew Bora well too, actually, and had always rooted for the two to get together.

Had it been anyone else, you would’ve still held the hope that your love could be returned, but Siyeon despised you with all the might of her soul ever since she had found out about the yellow petals floating in the toilet bowl at midnight. Had it been anyone else, you wouldn’t have faced the sheer mortification of begging Gahyeon for the address of the person who saved her.

“Y/N...” she had hesitated when you asked her. Siyeon’s younger sister was the only person that you knew of who had survived the disease without getting the dreaded surgery, but she was incredibly touchy about the subject. Indeed, you didn’t even know who she had fallen in love with so many years ago.

“Please, Gahyeon,” you begged, chasing to maintain eye contact with her. “I can’t die like this. You-- you won’t let me, will you? Not when it’s your sister.”

You didn’t want to guilt-trip her like you did, but it worked. Gahyeon texted you an address and a name, the ping noise of the notification sounding more like your saving grace than anything. “You can’t tell anyone else once you’re healed,” she warned. “She’ll know who you are as soon as you say my name.”

To outside eyes, the Love Blossom looked like a normal flower shop. The narrow storefront, sandwiched between a coffee shop and a bookstore, was painted a faint pink and chipped with green on some edges. There were flowers stuffed everywhere you could see-- exploding baskets on the windowsills, colorful wreaths hung everywhere, even a huge L and B made of blooms on the window.

Even when you pushed the door open, it gave no indication of being anything other than a flower shop. The scent of flowers was heavy, some rock song playing from the peppy pink speakers dangling from the ceilings. “Hello?” you called out, hands tightening on the strap of the bag slung over your shoulder. “H-”

Suddenly, you coughed out again and held your sleeve up to prevent any flower petals from fluttering out; the constant itch in your throat only served to make you more anxious to find the florist that Gahyeon had referred you to. “Is anyone there?”

“Hi!” You yelped and jumped back when an invisible door just next to you randomly opened, the shelf concealing it nearly colliding with your face. “Oh, I’m sorry! Were you looking for me?”

The girl who opened the door looked like the literal manifestation of sunshine; her smile took up half her face, the brown of her half-moon eyes seemingly lit from within. She balanced a flowerpot on her hip as she bowed to you in apology, long hair almost sweeping the floor. “Are- are you JiU?”

“Yep!” She moved to set the pot down, cocking her head slightly to take you in. “How can I help you today?”

“I... I’m a friend of Gahyeon,” you explained, watching as the smile on her face lessened slightly in understanding. You fished out the plastic bag from your purse, the almost-dry crimson inside overpowering the yellow petals. “Can you help me?”

The brunette accepted the bag, flashing you another bright smile as she opened the secret door again. “Well, let’s take a look. Follow me, please, and call me Minji.”

The narrow doorway led to what seemed to be her living quarters, or maybe an apothecary; the walls were almost completely covered by the forest-green painted shelves lining them, mismatched books and trinkets filling the spaces. Incredibly detailed drawings were tacked everywhere, a ladder folded behind the hidden door, presumably to access the blank walls up near the ceiling. A loft area was most likely where she slept, though she led you to a large and cluttered desk to examine the flowers you had given her.

“Yellow carnations. These symbol rejection and disdain, you know.”

You winced at the girl’s bluntness, though it wasn’t meant as a jab, still staring at the multitudes of drawings tacked everywhere. “Yeah, I know. Gahyeon told me.”

She smiled at the mention of the younger girl, setting the bag with your blood down to fiddle with a notebook. “I taught her well, then.”

“Taught her?” You watched her shift jars of petals around on the shelves, scribbling something down on a sheet of ironically pink and cutesy paper. “I thought you healed her.”

“Well, the Hanahaki disease doesn’t heal easily,” Minji responded, gesturing for you to follow her into a tiny kitchen area. “It took months, actually, and she spent almost every day in here. She might as well have become an apprentice, with how much I taught her.”

“Months?” Fear rose up in you at that, apparently not affecting the other girl as she hummed. You’d been in one of the later stages for a good couple of months now, though you couldn’t tell which one without visiting a doctor. “Minji, I don’t have months.”

She raised an eyebrow at you, tying the strings of her apron behind her. “Well, are you willing to get the surgery? Spend thousands of dollars and go through such a rigorous process, and then be left with a cold heart and unhealable scars?” At your silence, she chuckled, tying her hair up in a plait. “That’s what I thought.”

You sat on the stool at her kitchen table, watching Minji busy herself at what looked like a stovetop, albeit littered with glass bottles and half-hearted bouquets. “What makes you certain that this’ll work, then? How’d you even learn to help people like me?”

Minji bit down on her lower lip, the dark red color remarkably not transferring onto her pearly teeth. “Well. My mother died from the disease, so I was originally going to study it in school. But I had to help Gahyeon somehow. When she fell in love with someone who’d never love her back... I couldn’t just watch her die.”

Smiling slightly, you watched her scatter the same petals as you had coughed up into a pot, freshly plucked from stems that she threw onto the counter next to her. “What about you? What’s the story behind “rejection and disdain”?” she asked suddenly, smiling prettily. Something about her was a bit ethereal in the kitchen’s LED lighting, though maybe it was the fact that she was literally saving people that doctors couldn’t.

“Ah. I fell in love with Siyeon,” you answered, placing your hand into your chin as you watched her work. “She loves someone else, and I got between them. It’s not her fault.”

Frowning, Minji uncapped a jar that smelled strongly of rose, practically upending it in her pot. “Gahyeon’s sister? Does she know that you’re going to die because of her? I’ve met her before, and I didn’t think she’d be so cruel. ”

You nodded silently at that. The whole reason you were in such a predicament was that you loved Siyeon and she hated you; there was no way you were going to ask her to turn her entire heart on its head just to save you. It was unlikely that she’d want to do so at all, anyway. “I’m sorry, Y/N,” the brunette sighed sympathetically. “Love really hurts sometimes.”

“Yeah,” you smiled drily. “It’s just all too literal for me.”

“Hey, Minji!”

The girl turned from her flowers to wave excitedly at you, her smile painted bubblegum pink this time to match the faded apron she wore. She held trimmers in her hands, clumsy with the thick gloves she wore. “Y/N! Good to see you again, come in?”

“Yeah.” You smiled just seeing the interior of the shop, as decked-out as it had been in your first visit. Instead of the purple theme last week, Minji seemed to have gone with yellows, the peonies and roses tainting the cold air. The apartment, however, looked the same, almost comforting in its maximalism. “I’m done with the vials,” you mentioned, taking the freshly-washed glass bottles out of your bag along with a fresh bag of bloody flowers.

“Did they help?” Minji asked, accepting both with a quiet “thank you”. “Gahyeonie always told me that they taste terrible, but sugar cancels out all the good properties.”

“They aren’t that bad,” you lied, sitting down at the same spot in the kitchen and opening your bag. At her questioning look, you explained, “Oh, I thought I’d bring my laptop this time and keep you company. You said you were bored last time...”

Part of you wished she would turn you away, just so that you wouldn’t become attacked to someone who’d eventually leave you behind too. But she smiled, turning on her stove and hefting the same ceramic pot on as she did the last time. “That’s perfect, Y/N. When you’re done, you can come help package some bouquets for a break, okay?”

You nodded, sighing in content at the smell of flower petals boiling once again in the shop. “Okay. Thanks, Minji.”

“No need to thank me,” she replied, turning back to the ingredients that she fiddled with. “No need to thank me at all. How’s Siyeon?”

Shrugging, you swept some papers off the table to place your laptop down. “I don’t really know. She doesn’t talk to me. I only have contact with her through Gahyeon now, but it’s not really like I want to talk to the person killing me.”

“I wish you wouldn’t say “killing”,” Minji pouted, teasing you with a long flower stem. “It makes me think that you don’t believe you’ll live.”

“No, I trust you, I--” You stopped in your tracks when you realized that the other girl was joking, rolling your eyes before turning back to your computer. “Real funny, Minji.”

She giggled, placing a mug of coffee on the table beside you. “I like to think I am. You can call me Minji, by the way. Only customers call me Minji.”

Instead of responding, you sipped at your coffee, falling into a comfortable silence once the florist turned back to her stove. With the cool fall sunlight streaming in through the window and the heavenly aroma inside the kitchen, you suddenly thought that you could get used to a scene like this. More than that-- you liked it.

A good 4 weeks passed without incident. Your weekly visits were always filled with musical laughter and pretty grins whirling by in an instant. Minji only looked more beautiful each time, the pain in your chest somehow lessening each time you saw her wave to you with all the enthusiasm that Siyeon lacked. Part of you wondered whether the bitter concoctions that Minji had you drink were the thing at work at all, but you continued to take them, and you continued to improve.

Of course, everything good had to come to an end.

“Y/N,” Minji gasped as she kneeled next to you, hands hovering over your body as you hacked again, red dribbling from your lips to the floor. Your fingers curled weakly around your phone, tears escaping your eyes with how hard you squeezed them shut. “Gahyeon called me, what happened to you?”

With the clusters of carnations fluttering in your lungs with every breath you took, you weren’t able to respond. The other girl seemed to realize that, digging through her bag for something. Before she could take anything out, though, you wheezed for air again, throat swollen to the point of suffocation.

She acted quick, turning you onto your side to let full blossoms slip from between your lips. The yellow blooms were dauntingly bright against the dark wood, almost a serene picture if not for the violent crimson staining the petals. Tipping a vial of golden orange into your mouth, Minji ordered, “Swallow. Come on, you can do it.”

As soon as the poppy syrup was gone, your eyes fluttered shut and you slumped against your arm, breathing rattled but steady. Sighing, the brunette wiped a remaining petal from your lips, sliding her hands below your knees and your neck to pick you up. “You’re going to be okay. I’ll make sure of it.”

When the sun began shining unbridled through the cracked curtains of your bedroom, you woke from the longest sleep since you started choking at night. Someone had taken the liberty of folding the clothes scattered across your chair, as well as placing your fully charged phone, a purple-colored glass of liquid, and a note by your side.

Y/N,

I have to go back to the shop, but Gahyeon or I’ll stop by later today to bring you some more medicine. Next time, call me first!

xx,

Kim Minji

There was a ridiculous smile on your lips just holding a pink piece of paper imprinted with the girl’s kiss in lipstick, as well as a remarkable lack of flowers in your lungs. Indeed, you couldn’t taste copper coating your tongue, or feel petals stuck to the back of your throat, and it felt even better than you had remembered.

When you checked your phone, you realized that a certain contact was missing, A phone number that you had long since given up on contacting. There was a gap in your carefully curated picture gallery, Siyeon’s pictures with you taken off your wall, too. In their places were various pictures of Minji and Gahyeon, sometimes together and sometimes apart. In one of the selfies, you noted with a grin that someone had scribbled a Sharpie mustache over Minji’s face.

Since when had the florist replaced her in your life, and since when were you absolutely okay with that?

Minji smiled as soon as she noticed that the door to the Love Blossom was already open, the lights on inside the shop and some sweet smell wafting out. You hadn’t talked about the time she saved you in your apartment, but ever since then, the florist had noted that you were opening up more. You were happier, more willing to crack jokes and visit her on your own accord. “Y/N, is that you?”

“Morning, Minji!” you answered, spinning out of the apartment with a grin. The apron that Minji usually wore to make her syrups was tied around your waist, the faint pink of it white with flour. You held the door open for her and moved to take her jacket off for her, a gorgeous smile on your face as you did. “I let myself in early to make you some bread, I hope you don’t mind!”

“I never mind bread,” the brunette laughed, her heart already warm when she inhaled honeyed air. “Today isn’t a checkup day, though? You stopped by 3 days ago, did you run out of syrup or something?”

You pouted, in a remarkably good mood as you twirled around the kitchen. The counter was finally free of flowers and glass vials, replaced instead by a huge bag of flour and trays of golden-brown pastries. Minji didn’t remember having those supplies, but she wouldn’t put it past you to restock her kitchen just for fun while she visited her friends. “What, I can’t come and see my friends? I’m off work today, so I thought I could bake for you and learn about your bouquet orders.”

Sighing in false exasperation, Minji patted you on the head and tied her hair up to start working, flipping the sign on the door to read “OPEN”. “Of course you can come and see me whenever you want, it’s just rare that you come by like this.”

“I guess we’ll have to change that then,” you shrugged, plopping three pastries on a plate for the other girl. The kitchen looked like a completely different place without the usual bloody petals scattered all over the place, and to be honest, Minji loved the change. For once, she wasn’t in charge of saving your life-- she was just a florist, and she was just your friend.

There was no way she could keep the smile off her face, not when you sang exaggeratedly into a filling spoon, and not when you baked all the things she mentioned that she liked.

Something felt tight in her chest when she inhaled air perfumed by butter and roses, but Minji could only smile. For you.

The next time you baked for her was bittersweet. Once again, you were already in the apartment when Minji came back from her morning visit.

“I’m healed,” you sobbed as you catapulted into her arms, a slight poof of flour exploding when your chest met hers. Minji stood still in shock, hands resting softly on the small of your back as you cried, “Minji, I’m healed. You saved me.”

“For real?” she whispered, pulling back to cup your face in your hands. You nodded tearily, makeup-tinted tears mixing with flour as the other girl hugged you again, something clogging up her throat as she tried to breathe. “I... I’m so happy for you.”

You grinned despite your tears as you brought a cake out of the fridge, the pretty lavenders and blues of the frosting somehow reminding Minji of a goodbye. She turned out to be right. “They’re forget-me-nots,” you explained when you gestured to the pretty piped flowers on the cake. “Um, so you don’t forget me.”

“I could never forget you,” Minji blurted, feeling a sting at her own nose. “Come back sometime, okay, Y/N? You don’t forget me either, got it?”

“I won’t.” Despite all the sincerity in your gaze, your promise was hollow to the florist’s ears. You were already tugging on your jacket again, leaving her standing in the middle of an all-too-clean kitchen with a beautiful cake in her hands. “I’m sorry, Minji, I have to get back to work. But I’ll be back soon,” you smiled, watching her carefully for a reaction.

Minji nodded, knees almost trembling as she watched you turn back to wave one last time. “Okay.”

As soon as the glass door slammed again, she rushed to place the cake down, tucking her face into the crook of her elbow as she was hit with yet another uncontrollable fit of coughing. She crouched, free hand gripping tight on the legs of the table near her to steady herself as flower petals dotted with red fluttered softly onto the ground.

“Mallow,” she recognized as she scrambled to pick up the purple-veined blooms, vomiting out yet another. “Mallow...”

Scooting back so that her back could hit the kitchen cabinets, Minji watched the candles atop the cake burn out, blood dripping from her lips onto the pale fabric of her sweater. She didn’t care, though, as she stopped a shallow breath from escaping, finally remembering the meanings of the flowers in her shaking hands.

“Consumed by love.”

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fallingfor-fics · 4 years ago

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Teachers Pet-chapter 14: wandering

All chapters

chapter 13

I awoke suddenly feeling a cold breeze of air brush my face, I looked around and realized I had fallen asleep outside against the tree, and it was now nighttime. "Crap" I whispered looking down at my watch. It was already 9 o'clock. How had no one questioned where I was? Better yet how had no one seen me? I frowned a bit at the thought no one came to find me. It was freezing too, considering it was Winter, I'm surprised it wasn't snowing yet.

I stood up and grabbed my bag and began to head back inside the castle to head to my dormitory. I let out a deep breath remembering the realization I had come to before I drifted off. I hated having to deal with this now. Well actually, there really was no way to deal with this. Most people that develop...feelings for someone are actually able to work through and maybe act on them. But not I. I was to be stuck with this for however long it decides to stick around. I don't want to jump to conclusions, it's not like I like the man, I just...fancy him. Yeah, fancy that's the perfect word to describe what I felt for Severus. My potions Professor. Oh merlin y/n what is wrong with you!? He's a teacher for heaven's sake. I need to do everything possible to get rid of this feeling, or redirect it somehow.

I finally made it back into my dormitory and quietly took a shower and got ready for bed. My roommates seemed to be pretty heavy sleepers. I stood in the mirror fresh out of the shower and brushed my hair. Looking at the girl before me, the one who has convinced herself somehow, to fall for this cruel man. But he wasn't cruel was he. Not to me at least. I put my dark green nightgown on and slipped on my panties, exiting the bathroom after washing my face and brushing my teeth. I laid a few pats on Hera and gave her a treat, crawling into bed and looking up at my ceiling. How could this have happened? He was so awful to me when we first met, I mean he's awful to everyone, how did I stem feelings from seeing him a couple extra hours, and pleasing him by passing this test? It all seemed to have happened overnight. I began to realize though it didn't happen overnight, I've felt this way since he saved me from detention with Lockhart. Foolish of me. I closed my eyes waiting to drift asleep, but to no surprise, I couldn't. Typical, the one time I need my thoughts to shut up, they don't, they only hinder me from the peaceful release. I did take a rather long nap earlier, so it makes sense. I got up and slipped on some socks and grabbed my wand. I exited the dormitory and walked out into the dungeons. Holy shit it's cold, I thought to myself. "Lumos" I whispered and began walking down the hall, not in the direction of Snape's class. Last thing I would need right now is to run into a certain brooding man. I crossed my arms over my chest to help with the cold feeling, and continued taking a slow stroll through the castle. I could probably easily get caught and would most definitely get some form of punishment, but I didn't really care. It's not like they'd kick me out or something.

I looked out a window as I passed by it and looked out at the forest. I've heard stories of the Forbidden Forest, but I figured it was forbidden for a reason. I did have some desire to explore it one day though, just not tonight. I continued down the hall and looked at all the portraits as they slept. This school really is wondrous. I do miss Beauxbatons. To think if I hadn't been torn from there I may not be in the predicament I found myself in currently. I decided to head to the kitchens to see if the house elves were still in there, or if they too go and sleep, and maybe i'd be able to get a cup of coffee or something. As I headed that way I heard mumbling voices and turned out my wand and clung to the wall, I looked over the corner to see Professor Flitwick and Professor Lockhart conversing as they walked past and continued monitoring the halls, heading towards the Ravenclaw dormitories. I quietly tiptoed once I saw them out of sight and picked up the pace to the kitchen. As I reached the doors I stood on my toes to look through the windows and saw no one inside. I let myself in and walked over to what I hoped was the coffee machine. Now where's the coffee? I went through each cabinet checking where it could be, it didn't help it was dark, but I didn't wanna risk being seen. I opened and closed each cabinet as quietly as possible still having no luck. I squatted down to the very far end cabinet on the bottom but it was locked, hmm this must be where they keep the coffee so no one drinks it, silly I thought, "Alohomora" I whispered pointing my wand to it and heard it click open. Sure enough to my surprise the coffee was indeed in here, It was a special blend so I was guessing it was one of the teachers in specific, I pulled the jar out and put enough into a filter into the pot to make one cup and then added the water, I pressed the power button and took a few minutes to figure out how to work it. Before I pressed brew I thought for a moment and placed a silencing spell on the room.

After what seemed like forever, but in reality was 5 minutes, the coffee was done and I poured it all into a mug I found on the shelf. I blew on it a bit but it was still very hot. I laid it on the counter and cleaned up the machine. I grabbed the coffee tin and went to place it back in its place, as I squatted down I noticed in the back of this cabinet were a few bottles of firewhiskey and wine. Wow the Professors must have some fun around here. I looked at the brown bottles and thought about it for a moment. No I shouldn't If I get caught with that I would actually be kicked out. I left it alone for now and shut the cabinet, locking it and taking my cup from the counter. I headed out of the kitchen checking to make sure no one was near and took the charm off as I left. I began walking down the quiet and cold halls once more. I then had an idea. I made my way all the way to the stairs that led to the Astronomy tower and headed up in it to sit and enjoy the hot beverage. I stood leaning against the wall looking out over the courtyards and rest of the castle, you could see a lot of the school from here, this was probably my favorite place to come in the whole school. All the stars twinkling above. I took a sip of my cup, the hot liquid running down my throat, a sigh of relief as warmth filled my body. It was very cold up here and I wish I had brought my coat.

I looked up at the sky, and my thoughts began to run, I soon realized the only thing on my mind was My professor. How stupid of me to let this happen. I think the worst part was how I knew I would not be able to confide in anyone about these inappropriate feelings, no one would understand, and who knows they may think I'm dreadful and disgusting. I never confided in my father, and stopped confiding in my mother when I realized anytime I did she would ask me what I did that caused this to happen, it was always my fault no matter how many times I was screwed over. The only one I would ever be able to confide in was my sister. We were very close and she always listened and gave me good advice, she was so understanding, kind, and non judgmental. She was a much better person than I. She would have loved this view too, she would have loved Hogwarts, I just know she would have been in Hufflepuff, she'd fit right in with them. Or maybe Griffyndor, she was so brave when it came down to tough situations. My mother would be a Raven claw no doubt, she's very smart and technical. I don't know what my father would be. "Probably a Slytherin that bastard" I said out loud taking another sip. He attended Durmstrang. I cringed at the thought of him being in my house as well. I was nothing like him. He was horrible and vain, not to mention incredibly sexist and probably everything else you could think of. That asshole was such a phony too. He'd act so chill and nice to people, but it was all a facade to hide his cunty side. I grew frustrated just thinking about him.

I began to feel a hot tear slide down my face, my sister would have tried defending him, she was so sweet, she hated when he and I would fight. Always breaking it up and telling me how he wasnt worth it, and even though he's a jerk he was still our father. I was glad to have left him, hopefully I'd never have to see him again, I'd miss having a dad, but not him. I sniffled and a few more tears came down my face. I sat down on one of the ledges and looked out at the moon, it was so beautiful. I wish I could just live on the moon, carefree, peaceful, and quiet. Numb to everything. I wouldt have to live with these new feelings for this man I would never have. I began to cry more thinking about how dreadful my remaining years here at Hogwarts would be if these feelings did not resolve themselves. I want to blame my after for this, if he didnt leave me so damaged maybe I wouldn't be craving the affection and appreciation from this older man. I wiped my tears as they fell remembering the way he smelt, his smile, his hair, his eyes. They were so dark and held great sadness. I could tell he's been through a lot, but he was good at hiding it. I wiped the tears that still flooded down and looked up to the sky. "What do I do? How do I deal with this?" I asked no one, not expecting a direct response, but some sign at least. "Please. I'm not cut out for this type of thing. Why him? Of all the people here why him? What do I do!" I said as I let my frustration take over and began to cry harder, thinking of this beautiful man that I'd never get to touch and have, that I was growing such strong feelings for.

#snape x reader #snape imagine #severusnape #professor snape #snape #severus snape #severusimagine #severus x reader #severus snape x reader #Snape slowburn #slytherin #hogwarts

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snakeboistan · 4 years ago

Text

A Wish In A Jar

Pairing: Sugino and Nagisa (gen)

“Sugino,” The captain of Tomohito’s high school baseball team drawled from his perch on a changing room bench, “are you aware that there will be a hole on the floor from your pacing. Like, seriously dude, you’re worrying so loud that I can literally hear thoughts.”

“This is the fall tournament, Takahashi,” Tomohito said, nerves all tangled up into an anxiety-ridden amalgamation and hands wringing frantically, “winning this qualifies us for the Spring Koshien. Losing it w-”

“We’re not going to lose, Sugino,” their vice-captain, Nakajima, clapped him on the shoulder and shot him a friendly smile, “we’ve all been practically eating, sleeping and breathing baseball for the past few weeks so why don’t you sit down and try to calm down alright.”

“Yeah, dude,” another teammate voiced his concern, “you look like you’re about to keel over. I don’t see any reason why you should though - your fastball’s gotten pretty good.”

That didn’t really do much to soothe his apprehension but with a resigning sigh he did drop down onto a free bench. Anyone and everyone that knew Sugino Tomohito, or at least had a five minute conversation with him, knew that baseball was his passion, no competition (like, no joke, he even got sent to E-Class because he was too into it - but then again his year in 3-E was by far the best time he’s ever had so he’s counting that as a win) and that his dream since elementary school was to make it to the Koshien High School Baseball, and then get scouted and meet Arita and make it to the Japanese Professional Baseball League, and then play in the Nippon Series and then play for Major League Baseball in the World Series (hey, he’s got high hopes, sue him). Anyway, the idea is that baseball was his life and this game really means a lot to him so if he messes up even once then he can kiss his hopes and dreams goodbye as he buries himself under his bed covers with a bucket of fried chicken and hibernate there until he dies. Well, maybe he won’t be that dramatic but he really really wants to win and not disappoint his other hardworking teammates when they’ve already come so far. His dream was so close he could almost taste it. Or maybe that was his sense of impending doom. Who knows?

“Hey, Sugino, listen,” his captain said, “at least you’re still a first year. Even if something happens - which won’t by the way - then you’ve got all of the summer and next year to try again, and then the year after that.”

“Yeah, I know, but-”

Then, cutting through his thoughts like a professional pitch through the air, was a voice that Tomohito could recognise with his eyes closed, a voice that he’s known since Junior High would always be able to lift his spirits up.

“Sugino! Sugi-Sugino!”

And just like he expected, a flash of blue caught his vision before the person he was expecting stood by the door of the changing rooms, a hand gripping onto the door frame. He looked just as he sounded, out of breath and like he had ran a marathon. He was breathing deeply, the apples of his cheeks tinted red and the drawstring shoelaces at the center of his hoodie askew, but the moment he locked eyes with Tomohito, his face had physically brightened.

“Nagisa,” Tomohito said with a disbelieving laugh, “wha-how?”

“Oh, thank god you’re here,” their second baseman placed an arm around the blunette’s shoulder with a dramatic sigh akin to a priest whispering his thanks at the altar. He jerked his head in Sugino’s direction, “that one could use some cheering up. He’s acting like Cap did before he confessed to Naho-chan.”

Nagisa ducked instinctively when he saw an empty plastic bottle soar towards the other boy’s head and hit him square on the temple, the captain glowering at his teammate, “Oi, shut the f*ck up, Hagiwara.”

Tomohito watched with mild interest as his teammates began to undergo their usual routine of pre-game bickering before he felt a presence by his side and looked down to meet Nagisa’s shy gaze, “uh, hey?”

Nagisa giggled slightly at his (sorta lame) greeting, “hey, Sugino. Just came to check up on you, you know. See if you’re okay.”

“Why are you speaking like you didn’t spend an hour last night hyping me up on the phone and then sent me an essay over text about how I’m amazing and how much you believe in me,” Tomohito raised an amused eyebrow, muffling his laughter at Nagisa’s bashful smile. He vaguely registered someone whispering ‘gotta get me a bro like that’.

“I’m-I’m just trying to be a supportive friend,” the shorter boy defended himself, “I know how much this means for you okay, I just want you to know that I’m here for you.”

“Dude, I’ve never once had to question whether or not you’re there for me,” Tomohito punched the other lightly on his shoulder, “I like to think I know you well enough to know that I can always count on you to be by my side.”

“Always,” Nagisa nodded, “and hopefully that means you know me well enough to know that even if you don’t win - which is honestly the least likely outcome - I’ll still be proud of you because I know you well enough to know that you gave it your best.”

Tomohito swallowed, “I just wish that we do win.”

At that Nagisa smiled like he did when he had just won a game or had figured out a particularly difficult question, “Well, I think that I might have something that might help with that.”

At Tomohito’s furrowed brows and confused head tilt, the blunette turned and reached inside his shoulder bag that Tomohito had just realised was dangling near his hips. He placed both of his hands inside and then pushed something cold and solid into his chest. Tomohito glanced down before flicking his vision back at Nagisa’s meek face and then looking back down again. Slowly, he gripped onto the sides of whatever it was Nagisa had thrust towards him. Aware of the hushed whispers and gasps of awe, he held it out in front of him. The object appeared to be a medium sized mason jar which held hundreds upon hundreds of tiny little pieces of multicoloured papers, all folded into really small … paper cranes.

“A thousand paper cranes,” Nagisa said, looking at the floor and playing with the hairbands on his wrist, “Now if my memory serves me correctly, I believe that this should grant you one wish. You-you don’t have to use that now and I’m more than confident in your skills but, you know, if you need some form of divine intervention, which unfortunately I can’t give you, then…”

You’d think that being best friends with Shiota Nagisa since he was fourteen would make him immune to being surprised with just how much of an unbelievable person he was, but time has no impact whatsoever because the short little brunette with stuttering words and cautious hands always somehow seems to do yet another thing that completely throws him off his axis.

“When-when did you even have the time to do this?” he managed to stutter out,

Nagisa shrugged noncommittally, flashing one his signature shy smiles, “I have my ways. Plus, origami’s been a hobby of mine for years.”

“I-this is,” Tomohito choked, “Nagisa, thank you.”

“No problem,” Nagisa beamed. A few feet away, some of Tomohito’s teammates placed hands on their hearts whilst one pretended to faint.

“Would Keisetsu Daigaku Fuzoku High really mind if we keep you here?” One of his teammates asked Nagisa, “like seriously, have you ever considered transferring?”

“You’ve asked me that like twenty times,” Nagisa pointed out.

“Twenty-one,” Tomohito muttered. To say that Nagisa had some sort of charm would be an understatement. Even though Tomohito and Nagisa no longer went to the same school, they still made a habit to walk home together. Thankfully, their schools were within walking distance from each other and Tomohito’s after-school practices with his team lasted long enough for Nagisa to be able to make it to his school’s playing field at least five minutes before packing up. After two and a half weeks of Nagisa waiting for him by the gates of the field, his teammates demanded to be introduced and one thing led to another and now they all love him. Well, to be honest, how can anyone not? He wasn’t named ‘Class 3-E’s resident cinnamon roll/sunshine boy’ for nothing (Nakamura’s words, not his). Nagisa said that it was because of his unnecessary boasting that another school’s sport’s team would invite him over for baseball club sleepovers but Tomohito just laughed and said that there was a reason Fuwa had once told him that he could take over the world.

“I’d best get going to the stands,” Nagisa turned to his ex-classmate, “You brother’s saved a seat for me next to him and I don’t want to cause any problems. Oh and I’ve got to warn you - some of our old classmates are here and they’ve brought banners.”

Tomohito blushed, face-palming with a groan, “Seriously?”

“I tried,” Nagisa smiled sheepishly, “Fuwa wanted to bring a megaphone but I managed to negotiate her down to a noisemaker.”

“Whyy?” Tomohito despaired into his hand whilst Nagisa’s eyes shone with amusement at his clear suffering. Doesn’t he get enough embarrassment from his family?!

“I’m sure that they just want to show their support just as I do. And don’t worry, Isogai and I are here to keep them in line.”

“Thank the gods.”

The other gave him one last ‘good luck’ shoulder punch before adjusting his bag’s strap.

“Don’t forget what you told our sensei back in Junior High,” Nagisa said as he made his way, “‘I don’t want to just put up a fight. I want to win’.” The shorter boy then turned his head and looked directly into his eyes, a small smile gracing his face, “so go out there and give them hell.”

And with that, he left, leaving the ensemble of sportsmen staring at the door in his wake.

“That’s a good friend you’ve got there,” Yamato Akane, the team’s short-stop, observed.

“That was so sweet,” Hagiwara started swooning, stars in his eyes as he draped himself backwards onto a locker, “Oh if only someone would wish me luck like that. Hopefully a cute girl - who would come to me before the game and blush as she hands over a bouquet of flowers-”

“Shut the eff up, dumb*ss, no one wants to hear your stupid fantasies.”

“Ugh, rude.”

Tomohito dodged the stray jersey that was sent flying in the other boy’s direction, clutching onto the jar like it was his first born child. His entire body was on fire.

Let’s show them.

#assassination classroom #My writing #Shiota Nagisa #Nagisa Shiota #Sugino Tomohito #tomohito sugino

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a3theatrejunkie · 4 years ago

Note

Could i have headcanons of homare attempting (but failing) to make izumi a birthday curry ?thank you for your time~

- Bold of you to assume that Masumi doesn't have the kitchen in lock down so no one else can make Izumi any special treats for her birthday. Fortunately for Homare, Izumi’s birthday was on a school day this year and Masumi had to go to school.

-“OHOHOHO! ONCE AGAIN YOU’VE BEEN CUCKOLD BY THE EDUCATIONAL SYSTEM!” Homare Hooted as Masumi was dragged out the door. “HAVE A SPLENDID DAY OF LEARNING CHILDREN!”

-With Masumi gone and no one else in the kitchen Homare can now execute his master plan to create the best, most flavorful curry Izumi’s ever tasted.

First things first a recipe. Indian? No. We ate the last week. Japanese? No, too basic. Fish roe curry?!?!? Yuck. Thai Red Curry? Sounds Interesting. “Yes let’s do this one!”

-Now, Cook the rice. Homare’s made rice before, “We don’t have any Jasmine Rice, hmmmmm white rice will do just fine.” and so Homare dumped it into a large vat of water and let it cook on high.

-Next! Chop up vegetables. “AHA! It is now time to ‘slice and dice’! ” Homare grabbed two knives “Okay, how did Omi do it? Like this?” *CLANG!* *CLANG!* *clink.* A shard of metal fell onto the counter top and one of the knives was now missing a piece of it. “Oopsies..... Let’s... just...” Homare placed the broken knife back into the knife block.

- “ Mr.Onion! You secret secreter of human tears, today is the day is the day you’re vanquished, for I, HOMARE ARISUGAWA, Have goggles!” “As Itaru would say, QUEST COMPLETE!” Homare continued his ‘quests’ with all the other vegetable “My sweet dear carrots, the orange lights of my life. Kale. Garlic, you represent strength to all but today you fall. Ginger! the he- Whats burning?”

The rice that you haven’t checked on in thirty minutes, that’s what’s burning.

-Homare turned to see the pot of rice had begun to boiled over, coating it in a weird sticky white residue. “OH NOOO! OH NO! WHATDOIDOO??” Homare screamed in turn waking Hisoka who was sleeping on the couch.

-“What’s with the noise?” Hisoka asked. “MY RICE IS BURNING!!??! WHAT DO I DO? WHAT WAS IT THEY TAUGHT IN SCHOOL. POP. LOCK. AND DROP?” “Well. Turn off the heat.” “AHA! THE HEAT!” Homare rushed over to the stove and turned off the burner. The rice slowly began to settle down back into the pot. “Ah, Hisoka, you truly are the brainy brawn of our relationship. And you know I think I can still use this rice. The waters all gone.” Hisoka walked over and peered into the pot. “It looks...dry?” “It’ll add a rustic texture.” “Is this for dinner?” “No.It’s for Izumi’s birthday.” “Hm.” Hisoka exited the kitchen.

- Back to cooking, pour olive oil into a heated pan and add vegetables, stirring continuously. Easy enough. “ I won’t be bested by you again, no surprises full attention.” He added the veggies to the pan, the pan made a harsh sizzling sound. “Ooooooh! Now we’re talking! What’s next?”

-Season the vegetables and add red curry paste. ‘Okay, the basics a little salt, a pinch of pepper.’ Homare thought ‘And now the curry pa- Hm? Wheres the cu-?’ “THAT LOVESTRUCK MOTLEY FIEND.” Homare yelled. At some point Masumi had taken ALL of the curry from the cabinets.

-”Well played little music boy, But I shall just go to the grocery store.” “But first.” Homare turned the burner off and covered the pan with the lid.

Time skip to his return.

“Okay they didn’t have red curry paste but they did have yellow curry paste, and curry is curry so we’ll just use that and make it red.” Homare turned the burner back on and added a few scoops to the mix. Now to make it red. “Let’s see red... let’s use.. some red spices! a scoop of crimson saffron, a heap of ruby red cayenne pepper, oh! Tabasco sauce, and a teaspoon of vermilion paprika!” Homare stirred the mixture and it definitely looks red. It smelled interesting.

-Now to add in the coconut milk. As he stirred it in the milk the curry became a strange orange color. “Hmph. I suspected something like this would happen. Sooo, I bought this! at the grocery store.” Homare pulled out a small bottle of red food coloring. “This will be my saving grace! “ He opened the bottle and dumped the ENTIRE contents into the mixture. The ‘curry’ turned into a bright red. “Yesss. Prefecto!”

- Homare followed the rest of the recipe and gave his little creation a little taste. Immediately his face contorted. “Oho. I taste everything and yet taste nothing, and a little plasticky. I bet my favorite fountain pen that Izumi’s never tasted something like this!”

- Finally Homare plated his creation, half curry half rice but to make it unique he added his signature in ketchup on the rim of the plate. “With Adoration, Arisugawa Homare.”

- Right on time Izumi walked through the door along with Sakyo and Omi. “Happy Birthday Izumi! I made you a very special curry! I put my heart, soul and Mind into it.”

“You made curry! Homare,That’s so amazing!” Izumi cheered.

“It seems you’ve captured the cooking bug Homare.” Omi chimed in.

“Perhaps you can start taking up kitchen duty Arisugawa.” Sakyo added

“Yes, I wanted to show all of my appreciation to you. Now have a seat and I’ll present you my gift.”

- Izumi sat down, and Sakyo and Omi stuck around to see what Homare made.

“I cannot tell you how much work with into this, first Masumi tried to hog the kitchen, then he stole all of the curry out of cabinets! It had to be him, since when do we not have curry! But anyway here’s Homare Arisugawa’s very special! Made with Love! Organic! Thai Red curry!”

-Homare placed the plate onto the table and the reactions were intense. Izumi sat there with her mouth agape, Omi’s eye looked like they were gonna pop out out and Sakyo’s mouth resembled a thin straight line.

“You’re all speechless, but give it a taste and it’ll be a mind blowing experience!”

“It’s so red.” Izumi commented

“It’s really red and the rice looks interesting.” Omi said

“It looks like a waste of food.” Sakyo Sneered.

“You’re just jealous you didn’t create something this amazing. Go on taste it.” Homare said.

Izumi took a deep breath and took a scoop of Homare’s curry. She tried she really did but she had to spit it out. She had to.

Homare expression turned sad. “Oh. It isn’t good is it. I-”

“No! No! No! It’s great.” Izumi responded while trying to wipe her mouth. “Izumi it’s alright I-”

“NO! I mean yes. I mean no,It’s not good but you obviously put your heart into and that’s all that matter to me. So yes, It is of of the most special currys’ I’ve had. Thank You Homare, I loved my gift.” Izumi rose up and gave Homare a hug.

“Anything for you Izumi, I wanted to thank you for all you done for me.” Homare said.

“You know Homare, I can show you how to make curry. It’ll be fun! and we still need to make dinner for everyone”

Homare gasped “Yes! teachings from the mistress of curry herself, I shall become your humble servant!”

“I’ll give you guys a hand to, Izumi shouldn’t have to do all the cooking on her birthday.” Omi added.

-So they went into the kitchen to make a proper curry.“What happened to this knife?” Izumi said as they were beginning prep.

“AHAHAHA! TASUKU! TODAY IS THE DAY YOURS TRULY JOINS YOU ON ONE OF YOUR THREE HOUR RUNS.”

“Tch. Typical Arisugawa. ” Sakyo said as he opened his suit case began returning the curry jars and bottles to the cabinets.

(So sorry this took so long.)

#homare arisugawa #arisugawa homare #a3 act addict actors #a3! act! addict! actors!#izumi tachibana

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serararku · 4 years ago

Text

Dancing in the Sand Finale

The top of Valhaas Barrow boasted one of the best views in all of Thanalan. The clouds had followed the sun to the west, leaving naught but a gorgeous desert sky. The wind was soft and chilly, but steady, flowing across the territory to scrub this place clean of heat. Even though the sun was long gone, the moon and its countless twinkling servants showered Thanalan with a soothing grey light. It was the perfect place and time to reflect on what was, and what will never be. But Era wasn’t up here to think about the what-ifs and have-nots, no -- she was up here to lay a man to rest; everything else could wait.

She cradled Tage’s urn in her hands. He was cremated last year when her heart was still heavy for him before she was close with Zevi, when all she wanted was revenge against the strangers who took him from her. Her numbing confusion had boiled into blistering hatred, but now it had come full circle again; she still wanted revenge, true, but what she wanted most was answers. Killing him just a few days before his rescue meant someone knew she was -- no. She wouldn't go back down that road again.

Era’s gaze fell to his grey ashes when she lifted off the lid. There were no words to be said that weren’t said a hundred times before. She raised the urn out in front of her and waited for the whistling wind to change direction, and then she tipped the ceramic jar over. Tage slipped free from his mortal remains and drifted through the night sky -- ushered to eternity by the wind. She felt nothing for this stranger now, as uncomfortable as that realization came; he was the catalyst for everything that had happened to her in the last half-decade, all starting with that fateful encounter when he defeated her father, and all ending right here. A part of her wished she hadn’t seen Denoh tainting his supper the day before his challenge… but then she would likely be raising his child, confined to a life of breeding; she wouldn’t have left the tribe in search for a defeated Nunh, which means she wouldn’t have rescued Thalen from the brink of death, learned how to use the katana, and meet Zevi. There was a ping of regret for all the suffering she’s both endured and caused… but in the end it was all worth it for nothing else but the Tia in her dreams. Once the urn was empty, Era swung her arm with it for three full rotations before launching it into the air. She was so far up high she didn’t hear it shatter in the desert below, but she didn’t care; Tage was gone for good, and she had shed her final tears for him moons ago.

It was a mess in Valhaas Barrow. Bottles were emptied out and strewn all over the place, with the strong aroma of soap and mint filling every chamber and tunnel. Era descended the great labyrinth to find Mizuna asleep in the corner, her horns adorned in bone jewelry, her face covered in drawings, and halfway buried in a pile of purring kittens. Even in a deep slumber the woman was all smiles -- her fingers occasionally stroking the soft ears of children nuzzling against her palms. Era wanted to wake her up so they could get out of here, eager to reunite with Zevi to hear how his conversation with her mother went, but she couldn’t bring herself to stir Mizuna from her blissful sleep; she would simply have to wait until she woke up on her own.

Then it slowly dawned on her. "Where is Thalen…?" He was supposed to keep watch and help translate for her while she cured the kittens, but he wasn't here. Era briskly walked through the quiet barrow in search of him, but all she found were drowsy tribewives and empty chambers; a twinge of panic bit the back of her neck when her mind raced with the possibilities. "Oh no… did Vahli-?!"

She stumbled into his chambers to find him and her sister Umi entangled beneath their blankets, with a handful of candles clinging to life as they were reduced to puddles along the window. Given the scene and scents in this chamber, it was obvious they enjoyed their fateful evening; but Thalen wasn't here, so away she went.

"Wait." Vahli whispered, moving to pull himself away from his exhausted tribewife. Era froze mid-step and watched him approach, but she kept her eyes above his waist. “I wanted to thank you for doing so much for our tribe. I’ve talked with a few of my wives, and… they seem content with the scaleborn woman's medicines. Without your help… saving our children would be up to Azeyma -- and Azeyma alone. Thank you.”

Era gave him a gentle smile. “I told you I won’t abandon my family. Our tribe is suffering. I know how much you don’t trust outsiders… but if we don’t start trading with foreigners, we’re going to starve to death. You shouldn’t thank me for saving our kittens… and the scaleborn woman has a name. Mizuna Kusakari.”

He thought about trying to pronounce that mouthful of a name, but decided against it. “You’re right. I think with some time I can warm up to the idea of strangers on our lands. Maybe.” He took in a deep breath before glancing back at Umi, who was still sound asleep. “You have been teaching her how to be a better mate. Why?”

“Why?” Era repeated without thinking. “She wants to be the Favored Wife.”

He stared at her for a long moment before he reached up to caress her chin. “You are my favorite.” Era flattened her ears out of reflex and stiffened from his touch, provoking a frown to flash across his lips as he regarded her. “You disapprove?”

“I’ve grown a taste for violence.” She whispered, briefly looking away from him. “I don’t have the temperament to sit around and raise a child all day. The thrill of combat… that rush when I carve my enemies into pieces… it’s the warrior’s way. My place is in battle, not in bed.”

Vahli pursed his lips as he let his hand drop from her. “That’s why you’re so alluring. A wife who can slaughter my enemies by day and pleasure me by night sounds too good to be true.” Slowly he pushed her against the wall, as his hands began to wander. “To fight side by side with a woman like you would be… amazing.”

Era clenched her jaw as she stared at his chest. “We had a deal…” Slapping his hands away from her body would be a terrible idea, but she had nowhere to go; he had her trapped in the corner of his chamber. “You agreed not to touch me…”

A hunger flashed in his gaze when he lifted her chin with one hand. “I agreed not to get you pregnant…” Era closed her eyes when their lips met, her tail twitching rapidly behind her back when he pressed himself against her figure; despite his escapades with Umi he was hardening at an alarming rate -- she had to think of a good enough excuse to leave, but her mind was addled and she ran out of time a while ago. “Come on…” He whispered after breaking their kiss, gently placing his hands on her shoulders to ease her to her knees. “Do that thing I like with your mouth…”

“Stop it…!” Era held her breath and vanished in a puff of smoke, leaving Vahli coughing and confused.

He took a step back and blinked at the evanescent cloud. "Era…? What trickery is this…?" He reached out to touch her again, but all he felt was warm air and the stone wall. "An illusion…? Or a dream?" Defeatedly he turned to stir Umi awake to take care of him, but she was already sitting up, with a grim scowl plastered across her face. As soon as they made eye contact she shot up to her feet and stormed toward the exit without a single word.

"Wait! It's not like that-!" He called out, reaching for her arm; with a low hiss she ripped away from his grasp, and through her tears she briefly turned to glare hurtfully at Vahli before disappearing around the corner. He was alone now, with only his thoughts and ruminations keeping him company.

Era was panting by the time she ran to the mouth of the barrow. The last thing she wanted to do was use anything that could be labeled 'magick' to her people, but what choice did she have? She hurt Zevi once by laying with her Nunh, she wasn't about to hurt him again. Not if she could help it. Now all she wanted to do was grab Thalen and Mizuna and put some distance between her and Vahli. "He's still in heat, which means Thalen isn't laying face up in the sand somewhere…" Era thought to herself, looking around for any trace of him. "He's not in the barrow… so he's not risking his life with a tribewife, and he's not dead. That means he has to be with…?"

Phalo narrowed his eyes when he saw a stranger limping up the path. The boys were fast asleep and sore from today's drills, so he was free to leave them here in his domain if he chose to. He was in no condition to defend the Tia, but he grasped his spear anyway, and descended down the rope ladder to stop this outsider from getting any closer. "What do you want?!" He shouted, hobbling over to stand between the stranger and his clowder of boys.

Thalen noticed a flat boulder nearby and promptly approached it. "To talk. Sit with me, will you? And go easy with the yelling… my head feels ready to burst."

"I have no business with you, outsider!" Phalo snarled, bristling to make himself appear as big as he could; but the aging Miqo'te was a shell of his former self, which wasn't that impressive to begin with.

"Outsider?" Thalen repeated, wincing when he slowly descended onto the rock. "All Tia are outsiders in their tribe's eyes. I'll make you a deal, old man." He lifted his hand to reveal that Black Galleon whiskey -- or what was left of it. "Humor me for a few minutes of your time, and I'll let you finish this off. I promise this stuff is leagues better than the rotting milk you normally drink."

His eyes fixated on that bottle, and he licked his dry lips; he couldn't handle fermented milk like he used to. Every time he wanted to get drunk to take the edge off, it meant his stomach would punish him for days by turning his feces into liquid. It had been ages since he was able to get his hands on alcohol from beyond the borders without the warriors, huntresses, or Nunh taking it all for themselves. Unable to resist the allure of a foreigner's poison, Phalo cautiously sat down beside the stranger. "What do you want…?"

Thalen passed the bottle to him and gazed up at the stars above. "Answers. I've never seen a fellow Miqo'te as old as you. Well, not a male, I mean. How have you lived so long without your Nunh killing you over the years?"

Phalo popped off the weathered cork and took the first swig of many; the potion burned like fire down his throat, and filled him with that old familiar warmth. Yet it was almost as smooth as spring water, and easily the best drink he's ever had -- it certainly loosened him up and put him in the mood for conversation. "I was born with a twisted leg. My mother begged my father to spare my life… told him I could serve the tribe well. I could never become a Nunh myself… everyone knew that." His ears pinned to his head and his gaze fell to the sand. "There are ways to rid oneself of… temptation. Between that and a low death in the wilderness, it was an easy choice."

"Fuck…" Thalen took the bottle from him and took a small swig of his own. This man was dealt a terrible hand right out of the gate, but he played with the cards all the same. It was admirable, of course, to devote a lifetime doing his best to make sure all the Tia that came after him had the best chance they could get at survival, but if Thalen was given the same choice -- he wouldn't even hesitate; without his vices he wouldn't make it.

"The Tia deserve better than short lives filled with fear and misery. I can’t give them much… but a little is still better than nothing." Phalo winced when he took another gulp, the black liquor running down his silver beard. "Is that all you wanted?"

Thalen shifted uncomfortably on the rock, wishing he had a soft warm bed to help cope with this tingling ache. "I'm from the Hipparion Tribe. We uh… don't have someone like you looking out for the boys. No Tia Keeper at all, actually. When we get a new Nunh, all the Tia from the previous one are kicked out into the wilderness. Some are still infants… left to die alone and afraid." Slowly he turned to meet the old man's gaze. "I was in my sixth summer when my father was slain. If it weren't for my older brother taking me under his wing, I wouldn't have lasted till morning."

"Tia are forbidden from working together…" Phalo noted, hardening his gaze.

"All these years sending kids out into the desert wastes and you still don't know much about us, huh?" Thalen couldn't hide his smile; this old man didn't know a damn thing about the world beyond his tribe's territory. "There's strength in numbers. Tia know it's wrong but they don’t care -- they just want to live. Like you. Like us." He didn't know what to say. He simply twisted in his seat to glance up at the makeshift hut that housed seven sleeping Tia. "My brother's name was Nolas. Bravest bastard I've ever known, with a heart as grand as the sun. He… Rarku butchered him right in front of me, in the sands not too far from here. Twenty summers past."

"I'm sorry." Phalo flattened his ragged ears as he stared at him, the bottle now with only a few more gulps left. "He was… cruel.”

“I came here with Era to retrieve his bones and weapons.” The younger man admitted. “I’m told you would have them.”

"Your brother’s bones are gone. I’ve been cremating the remains of fallen Tia for sixty summers so their souls can return to Azeyma. He is with the Warden if he challenged Rarku.” explained Phalo. Thalen wasn't exactly on speaking terms with the Goddess, and hadn't been for many summers; he survived this long without her guidance and favor, what's a few more decades? “But I may have his weapons. What did he carry in his final moments?"

"He used a simple iron sword he found when we were still in the Shroud. It had a red bandana wrapped around the hilt. And a wooden shield, split down the center from that glaive." Just talking about it made Thalen feel nauseous -- one of his only regrets was not returning to this terrible place to kill Rarku himself.

The old Miqo'te rose from the boulder and turned toward his hut. "Wait here." He commanded, hobbling back to his domain to leave Thalen alone with his thoughts.

Only anger and regret swam in circles in his head. Yet the man who took the only family he had left from him was long dead. His only reprieve was knowing that sadistic monster was powerless to stop him when he bent his beloved daughter over every piece of furniture in his apartment, and now he had a taste of his Favored Wife too. "Hope you enjoyed the show, asshole." If only Tage was still alive -- he would buy that man a drink any day of the week for putting the Black Butcher into the ground. Even still, Thalen wished he was the one to finish him for good; he must have spent a few hundred bells replaying that scenario in his head to practice what he would tell Rarku. Before he filled him with holes, of course.

Thalen perked up at the sound of approaching footsteps from behind. His heart skipped a beat when his gaze fell upon his brother's old weapons. The blade was so worn down it would be a wonder if it could even cut butter, and the once crimson bandana had faded to pink from too much exposure to the sun. The shield was smaller than he remembered, but then again, it was a practice shield designed for Hyuran squires; the cleave halfway down the middle had been patched together with some spare lumber and nails, but the integrity of the shield remained compromised. "I used these to train Tia over the years… I hope you don't mind."

"Wasn't planning on using them to fight." He tried to hide it, but his flat ears and trembling voice gave it away; he missed his brother more than anything else in this world.

"You can cry here." Phalo assured him as he offered the shield and sword. "I won’t judge you."

Through sheer willpower alone Thalen managed to swallow back down his sorrow. "I'll cry when I'm dead." He slowly draped the shield over his back and tucked the sword into the leather sheath he brought along with him. "Thank you for keeping his things. I'm K’thalen, by the way."

"S'phalo." The old man bowed as gracefully as he could. "Find peace and happiness. Any Tia that survives as long as you have deserves nothing less."

"I know you're not supposed to do this, but…" Thalen paused before turning his back to the Tia Keeper. "If you want any of the boys to survive long enough to experience true happiness, send them my way. It goes against Her laws, and yaddah yaddah, but you know what awaits them once they're sent out into the wilderness." He didn't bother waiting for a retort -- he already knew what the old man would say. "Keep the bottle. I need to get rid of the evidence anyway." With a slight wave the Tia descended down the path, half-expecting Vahli to be waiting there to cleave him in half for touching one of his wives. Yet when he reached the barrow, neither the brute nor the harlot was around. "Seems a tribewife really can keep her word."

"There you are!" A familiar voice from a familiar woman barked at him. "Where have you… wha-? What happened to you?!"

"Damn you're loud, darlin'." Thalen retorted in Eorzean, and just like that, his thick drawl and accent returned. "Can a feller drink in peace without all this shoutin'?"

Era ushered a half-awake Mizuna onto the wagon and handed her the reins, but she turned back around to judge him. Loudly. "You look like you were attacked. Did you wander too close to the zu nests?"

Thalen ignored her at first to climb up alongside Mizuna. "Decided to spar with a few Tia." He lied as easily as he breathed. "Last time I go easy on some kids… knocked me on my ass, they did."

Satisfied with that answer, she climbed up to sit down beside him. "Did… did you talk to my brothers? How are they doing…?"

"Better than I was at their age." He rubbed the back of his neck before stretching out to drape his arms around their shoulders. Once everyone was settled in, Mizuna flicked the reins and the wagon began its slow return to Ul'dah -- but for the two Miqo'te, 'as soon as possible' would still not be soon enough. "How're your nights goin'? Good I hope?"

"I released S'tage's ashes, argued with Vahli for a few bells because you stepped up to him…" Era looked up at him with a disapproving side glance. "You could have been killed. You know that, right?"

"What was I supposed to do? Tuck my tail between my legs and grovel?" He scoffed, shrugging. "If that big bastard wants to dance, I say we play some music and get this party started."

"Ugh… if I bring you back, that just might happen…"

"Imagine it… S'thalen Nunh." He chortled. "Then you'd be answerin' to me, lass." The thought of sitting around in that sandbox all day was shockingly amusing, or maybe it was from the Black Galleon Whiskey in his system; when he glanced over to see her roll her eyes at him, she was instead staring at him intensely.

"That… would solve a lot of my problems…" Era hummed, drumming her fingers on the guard railing. "With you as my Nunh, I'd be able to come and go as I please…"

Thalen loudly cleared his throat before turning to glance down at Mizuna. "Anyroad… how were the kittens, Doc? Cute?"

"Cute?" She repeated, blinking slowly. "They were so soft, and warm, and cuddly." The brightest smile she's worn in over twenty six summers lit up her face, almost as if she was as tipsy as the Tia. "We sang songs for bells. I got them to dance with me. Then I told them some stories once everyone was tired… they didn't understand a word I said, but I think they just liked watching me talk. Cute? Yes, K'thalen… yes they were very cute."

"Well… glad two of us had a good time." He smiled, kicking his feet up. "Just a few more bells and we can rent some rooms in Lil'Ala Mhigo before we get ba-"

"When are you and R'zevi going to have a child of your own?" Mizuna asked, leaning forward so she could look at her. "You're both young and in love. What is taking so long?"

"D-doctor Kusakari! Nooo…!" Era began turning strawberry red while Thalen threw his head back and belly laughed.

---

Mentions: @rzevi-tia-ffxiv

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jawritter · 5 years ago

Text

You and Me..

Chapter 1

***SERIES WARNINGS**** Rape, non-con, male!rape, injury, violence, description of injury caused by rape, nightmares, self-harm, panic attacks, implied female non-con, language, ass hole Jensen, hurt!Jensen, dark fic, smut. If there is anything else I will add it as I go.

***Chapter Warnings*** Descriptions of depression and grief, language, sad!Jensen. Lose of marriage, divorce. That’s about it. This chapter is pretty light.

Word Count: 1942

Pairing: Jensen Ackles X Danneel Ackles, Jensen Ackles X Jared Padalecki

A/N: Okay guys here we go! Here’s the first chapter! I’ll be putting up and posting a link to the series masterlist here in just a little bit. I’ll add the link here when I do. This is going to start out pretty light, all the chapter warnings will be in place when this thing really gets rolling. As always all mistakes are mine! Please do not copy my work! Feedback is golden! Hope you guys enjoy it! If you want to be added to my tag list or the series tag list let me know!!!

Summary: It’s funny how one choice you made can change your whole life. One mistake can alter your course, and set you on a path that forever will haunt you. Two people find themselves getting through one of the hardest trials of Jensen’s life, on just one small promise. You and Me. We’ll get through it together…

Want more? Check out my Masterlist!!

***MASTERLIST***

***YOU AND ME MASTERLIST***

Grief comes in many shapes, forms, and fashions. Even though it may come in different ways it still all ends up in the same pattern.

Denial, Anger, Bargaining, Depression, Acceptance.

Losing a person doesn't always mean the death of said person. Sometimes, that person can be laying in the bed right next to you. Still, the separation and emotional detachment can be more permanent than death. one that then causes the downward, uncontrollable spiral that is grief. This is what happens when you find yourself in a dying marriage.

You grieve it.

You grieve it just like you'd buried the person you once loved with everything in you.

This is where Jensen has now found himself.

But you know what, maybe I should start at the beginning?

Supernatural had wrapped filming for the final time. That was hard, harder than Jensen had expected to ever be. It brought on a whole wave of emotions that he hadn't seen coming.

Then there were all the goodbyes that followed, the wrap party for the cast and crew, the ending of an error. Jared had Gen, she’d flown up to be with him, along with all of his children. Danneel? Well, she didn’t come. She didn’t really give a reason other than she was, “busy.”

Then there was the packing up and leaving the apartment he’d used while filming for years now. That was hard too, harder than he expected it to be.

Jensen picked up the phone and tried to call Danneel as the movers carried out the last of the boxes in his now empty Vancouver apartment. He would be leaving here and heading home to Austin for the last time. It was a much harder pill to swallow than he’d expected it to be. Why did this all hurt so much? He thought he was ready?

The phone rang and rang. This had become her M.O. lately. She didn't answer his calls right away. Instead, he would have to leave a voicemail and hope that she would find time to call him back. He really needed to talk to someone right now. He didn't like the things he was feeling as he walked through his empty apartment, checking everything one last time before he turned his keys over to his landlord.

The lump in his throat grew to the point he was having to swallow hard to get it down. He stood in the doorway of what was his home away from home for so many years, looking back one last time with a giant hole aching in his chest. Danneel still hadn’t called him back, of course, she was probably busy. The business she had started had taken off, and he was happy for her, but he needed his wife right now.

Turning off the lights, Jensen locked the door for the final time, turning over this chapter that had been such a big part of his life over alone. He seemed to be doing a lot of that lately.

That was about five months ago.

When he returned home after the conventions and everything had ended it wasn't so bad. The first week went like the start of any other hiatus.

Then things started to get a little strange.

Danneel would leave him alone with all three kids all day long so that she could go and work on her new jewelry line.

This didn't bother him at all...at first.

Then week four rolled around and Danneel still was making excuses not to stay home. Most nights she wouldn’t even come in until Jensen and the children had gone to bed.

Jensen would try and wait up for her, but always ended up falling asleep on the couch watching his late-night football games. By the time he’d wake up in the morning she’d already be gone, and he’d have to get up to start the day with himself and the kids alone.

"She's just busy," he'd reason with himself. "She's growing a business, that's not easy, it takes a lot of time."

Jensen would then kick himself for not being more proud of his wife, and then start to feel guilty that he wasn't being more supportive of her. So he decided that night to stay up after the kids went to bed and drawing a bath for her. He put out rose petals throughout the bedroom and master bathroom. He bought her favorite bottle of wine. He decorated the room with little tea light candles to cast a soft, romantic light. He’d really put his all into making it perfect for her.

He heard the front door close and he knew she was home. Smiling with anticipation, Jensen waited anxiously in the bedroom, excited to see the look on his wife’s face when she saw all the effort he’d put into making this perfect for her. They hadn't been ‘together’ since before he came home for the conventions. It had been a while, he wanted to spend some 'time' with his wife tonight. He wanted to show her how much he appreciated her.

When Danneel walked into the room and looked around she didn’t have the excited look on her face that Jensen was expecting. In fact, she looked almost annoyed.

"Jensen?" she asked the man standing in the middle of the room, looking around at what he'd been up to. "What's all this for?" she asked, setting her purse down on the floor next to the door, and not bothered at all by her husband’s crestfallen face.

"I thought we could spend some time together tonight," Jensen said, crossing the floor to where his wife was standing, reaching out to put his arms around her.

"It's been a while," he said, but when he leaned down to kiss her she turned away from him.

That stung.

He stood there shocked to his core. She'd never done that before.

"Jay, this is pretty, and I appreciate the effort, but I'm tired, babe. I just want to go to sleep."

Ducking under his arm she headed toward the bathroom, leaving Jensen standing alone in the middle of their once shared bedroom with his heart in a thousand pieces on the floor.

That was it, the beginning of the end.

At first, the denial started.

He tried, at first, to justify her actions towards him. Why she didn't kiss him goodbye in the morning at breakfast before she left anymore?

"She was running late, or she was in a hurry."

Why she didn't want to make love to him anymore? "She's tired. Starting up a business is draining."

Why she didn't want to cuddle with him at night anymore? "She's tired and needs her rest. I should be more supportive."

She didn't answer the phone again. "She's in a meeting with a designer or something important. She'll call back."

She never did.

After about a month of this, the anger started.

"It's not fair. I've given up a lot of roles so I can stay home with you and the kids. I love my kids Danneel, but I need time with my wife too! You won't even look at me in the eye anymore!"

Danneel said nothing, just got her cup of coffee, and walked out to the sun porch, not even really looking at him.

"Go back to work then. I'll hire a nanny to help me with the kids," was all she said before closing the door; never bothering to look up from her cell phone.

That made him even angrier. The way she had just blatantly ignored his feelings turned that low burning anger into a roaring fire inside of him. It ate away at him, consuming him. It was all he could do not to throw his coffee cup across the room. At that moment the anger rooted himself deep inside of him, and he couldn't let it go.

He started sleeping on the couch most of the time, and around the third month, he started sleeping in the guestroom. Even though he was still angry, he didn’t want to lose his marriage. They’d been married for a decade. He just couldn’t let it go at that, and he knew if he didn't come up with something his marriage didn’t stand a chance. So Jensen came up with an idea late one night about how to save their marriage before it was too late.

"Maybe we should see a marriage counselor," he'd suggested that night at the dinner table.

Danneel threw a glass of wine in his face and stormed out of the room, not saying a word. That's when he knew It was too late, his marriage was dead, it was over.

That's when the depression sat in.

He called Gen and Jared and asked them to let JJ say over with them. He didn't have to tell Jared what was going on, Jared had been in the background for months watching his friends' marriage spiral. They gladly let JJ come spend time with them and the kids.

The twins he brought to her mom's house. He knew Danneel wouldn't care. Hell, she barely even noticed they were there anymore. She didn't want to be bothered with them apparently. She wanted her career more than she wanted her family, and he just couldn’t deal with it all anymore.

He came home that night, got in the bed, and stayed there for three days, not getting up accept to go to the bathroom or get another bottle of whiskey.

It had been three days and Danneel still hadn’t come home. Jensen knew she had collected the kids, her family, and Jarred had called him. Apparently, it wasn’t her family she didn’t want, it was just him. She didn’t want to be with him anymore. Tears ran silently down his face. His heart felt like it wanted to stop beating.

Still, he waited for her, praying he'd wake up from this nightmare, praying his wife would come through the door and lay next to him again, that everything would just go back to the way it was.

That day never came.

The divorce papers lay on the foot of the bed three weeks later. Jensen had barely eaten anything in days. He refused to get up and shower. He refused to do anything other than lay there and wallow in his misery. Jared was sitting on the chair in front of the window, staring at his friend with worried eyes.

"Jay, come on man. You're gonna grieve yourself to death. Danneel made her choice. The two of you grew apart. You weren't happy either and you know it. Pick yourself up. Your kids are gonna need you. You can’t just give up like this.”

Jensen knew his friend was right. He needed to accept that this was over. He needed to stop wallowing in his own self-pity and move on.

Taking a deep breath, Jensen rolled himself out of the bed, stretching as his muscle groaned in protest of the moment. He’d laid there for so long that his body was stiff and sore.

He grabbed a pen off the nightstand and signed the papers that were waiting for him at the foot of the bed, then threw it all down back on the bed and looked up at Jared. His friend was already at his side, pulling him into a bone-crushing hug, where he stood weeping in his brother’s hold until his legs started to give out, and Jared had to help him sit in the chair he’d just been occupying.

Jensen was determined that today would be the day he would bury this hurt for good. It was over. That was all.

As much as it still hurt, and as much as he wished things would have gone differently he knew he couldn’t will the situation to be any different than what it was. So he would bury this hurt, much like you bury a loved one, and leave it there to rot because that’s all he could do.

Life goes one, whether we want it to or not… Even though we feel like our world came to an end, we accept it in order to keep moving forward no matter what the consequences. So that’s what he’d do. Keep moving.

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Tag List:

@deanwanddamons @imabitch4jensen @rvgrsbrns @bi-danvers0 @onethirstyunicorn @i-love-superhero @akshi8278 @alanegaming @magssteenkamp

You and Me Tag List:

@idksupernatural

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katekaned · 4 years ago

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i want your midnights

my @lgbtincomics secret gift exchange gift for @kaurwreck!

“So… I heard you have a date for tonight’s party, Hel.” Dinah’s voice thrummed with barely contained glee, even over comms, as Black Canary and Huntress sped through the streets of Gotham toward that night’s (really, early morning - it was 2 am) target.

Helena’s reply came tersely through Dinah’s earpiece, “It’s not a date.”

“Well, I heard from Babs who heard from Steph who heard from Tim who heard from Kon who heard from Lois who heard from Maggie who heard from Kate… that a certain ex-detective Montoya will be accompanying you to the Clocktower festivities tonight. Sure sounds like a date to me.”

“Can we try and keep our personal lives out of the field tonight?” Barbara broke in to reprimand them.

Dinah cheerily responded, “Well, we never have before, so I don’t really see any point in starting now, O.”

A deeply resigned sigh came over the comms to which Dinah cackled and Helena gave a begrudging smile under her motorcycle helmet.

Barbara’s voice crackled across the comms again. “This is a simple mission, guys. Get in, make sure Seeber gets the message, then get out. Got it?”

“We’ve got it, O. After spending the past month taking down this dick’s trafficking business, tonight will be a breeze,” Helena replied.

“It’s just too bad Zinda’s not with us - she could really put the fear of God in this bastard,” Dinah chimed in.

“Canary, we agreed this was a two-woman job - and besides, Zinda’s been hard at work decorating the Clocktower since midnight.”

“Only because you wouldn’t let me start any earlier!” Zinda’s brassy voice came through their earpieces loud and clear. “This clocktower will not become party ready all by itself!”

“Ooh that reminds me,” Dinah said in a sing-song tone. “Hel - you need to look like an absolute BABE for Renee tonight. Please let me take you shopping for a date outfit this afternoon?”

“Not! A! Date!”

____________________________________________________________

Is tonight a date?

Renee’s mind was always filled with a hundred different thoughts at any given moment - cases she was working on, what to have for dinner, various exercise regimens and dozens of other things, all competing for her full and undivided attention. Most days, she’s a consummate pro at multitasking but, this December 31, one thought returned again and again to the forefront of her mind.

She paced all around her apartment, careful to step over the piles of gear strewn haphazardly on the floor, as she pondered whether or not Helena Bertinelli, her occasional (though more and more frequent) partner in vigilantism, had invited her to a New Year’s Eve party tonight as a friend-date or … as a date-date. The party was being hosted by Helena’s crime-fighting team, the Birds of Prey, and, according to her, was going to be a relatively small affair attended by teammates and a few affiliated heroes. Which did little to assuage Renee’s anxiety.

Renee Montoya is not typically one to worry about such silly and mundane things as whether the girl she (potentially) likes likes her back. Renee Montoya sleeps with women and breaks their hearts and she doesn’t do the whole dating thing. (Not anymore. Not after Daria. Not after Kate.) So to feel her heart jumping in her throat like she’s a damn schoolgirl again is not a familiar sensation and she doesn’t like it, not one bit.

Outside her windows, the telltale early signs of a winter storm were taking place. The wind picked up, whistling sharply through the alley below and carrying white flurries along the way. Overhead, thick, gray storm clouds menaced the city of Gotham, giving no indication that they were going to dissipate any time before midnight.

Just as Renee felt herself about to begin dissecting and analyzing every interaction she’d had with Helena since she asked her to attend the party with her, a sharp rap sounded from her door. Trying to ignore the sweat gathering under her armpits, she ran her hands through her hair one final time and went to open the door.

“Hey, I know I didn’t buzz up, but your doorman recognized me, I think from when we had drinks a few nights ago, uh, and he just let me up, so, yeah…” Helena trailed off as she took in the funny expression on Renee’s face. “You feeling okay, Montoya?”

Renee was not, in fact, doing okay. In fact, the very sight of Helena Bertinelli standing in her doorway, looking absolutely, drop-dead gorgeous had driven all the air out of her lungs and all coherent thought out of her brain. Helena’s dark curls were piled high on her head with a few stray curls framing her face and she wore a black cropped turtleneck with the tightest pair of leather pants Renee had quite possibly ever seen. Fortunately, at Helena’s confused expression, a few synapses in Renee’s brain began firing again and she managed to stop looking like she had recently been concussed.

“Oh, um, I was just, uh, thinking … it’s kind of cold for, y’know, a turtleneck.”

Oh, God, now she knows you were looking at her abs! Say something different! Anything!

“Not that there’s, uh, anything wrong with that, you look great, I mean, you always look great. Um. D’you wanna come in and drink something?”

Great save, Montoya. How are you the same suave lesbian who managed to bed a woman in Kahndaq of all places?

As Renee held the door open for Helena to enter her apartment, she tried to keep her eyes from gazing too long at any ... particular part of her body and, in doing so, missed the shy smile on Helena’s lips at Renee’s flustered greeting. Helena sauntered into the kitchenette area and sat down on a barstool at the counter.

“What do you have?”

“I’ve got lemonade, OJ, water, of course, and some non-alcoholic eggnog that Kate and Mags brought over earlier this week!”

Renee managed to find two clean glasses and turned to Helena, waiting for her response. She noticed an almost pensive furrow in her brow that definitely wasn’t there before. The playful light in her eyes also seemed to have vanished.

“Just some water will be fine. I’ll need to be well-hydrated to withstand even one of Zinda’s drinks tonight.”

“Alright, then,” Renee shrugged and grabbed a pitcher from her fridge, filling the two glasses and handing one over to Helena. “Are Zinda’s drinks really that potent?”

“Oh, God,” Helena snorted in the middle of her first sip. “Just be grateful you don’t drink anymore because that shit could take down a fucking elephant.”

Renee inhaled sharply through her nose as she drank deeply from her glass of water.

Helena flushed deeply and shot an apologetic look across the counter. “Shit, Renee, I’m so sorry. I didn’t mean to make light of -”

Renee cut her off, “It’s fine, really, Helena. We should be heading out now anyway.”

She made her way briskly over to the entrance table where she kept her wallet and keys and shoved both into her jacket pockets. As she opened the door, she turned back to look at Helena, who was still looking rather like a kicked puppy, and gave her a sharp smile.

“Come on, princesa, you’re the one who knows where the fuck where we’re going.”

As Helena rushed out the door and started toward the stairs, Renee turned to lock the closed door behind her and took a slow, deep breath.

So not a date.

______________________________________________________________

As soon as the elevator doors slid open, Renee and Helena were hit by a barrage of sound and lights from the loft space at the top of the Gotham Clocktower. Stepping out into the brightly lit, colorfully decorated and rambunctious party from the cold, damp and dark streets of Gotham was a jarring experience. Seeing the party already at full tilt, sent a fresh prickle of nerves through Renee, when she felt a cold hand slip into hers and squeeze it tight.

She glanced up at Helena’s face. Much of the tension from the motorcycle ride over and the brief yet eternal ride up the elevator seemed to have disappeared upon their entrance into Helena’s second home. Helena smiled softly at Renee.

“Don’t worry. I’ll show you around.”

As Helena tugged her further into the celebration, Renee felt her heart give an involuntary skip.

Stop it, she admonished internally. She’s just being friendly.

“This is the kiddie table!” Helena’s face looked almost completely different with the giant, shit-eating grin she sported as she gestured to six young girls grouped around a flat-screen television, all with video game controllers in their hands and surrounded by bowls of various snacks and bottles of soda.

“Just because you guys are ancient doesn’t make us kids,” fired back a tall, blonde girl in a purple sweater without even looking up from the TV screen. “Anyways, Cass and I are only here because Zinda promised to slip us one of her special cocktails at midnight.”

Helena narrowed her eyes at the shorter, dark-haired girl sprawled out next to the blonde, who just smiled and gave a what-can-you-do shrug.

“Not under my watch, she’s not. Unless we’re suddenly a year in the future and you both are 21, there will be no underage drinking tonight.”

“Can’t be watching us… when you’re busy watching her,” the dark-haired girl replied smugly.

Helena sputtered violently at that and the entire group dissolved into giggles. Renee noted that all of them were teenagers with the somewhat incongruous exception of a nine-year old who was busy shoving handfuls of M&M’s into her mouth. Two of the girls were blonde, three, including the nine-year old, had black hair and one of them had bright red hair.

Blushing furiously, Helena spoke loudly over their snickers, “ANYWAYS. These gremlins are Stephanie, Cass, Mia, Lori, Charlie and Sin and they are all little shits. Enjoy your video game, girls, Renee and I are going to go talk with the adults now.” She said the last part pointedly, giving a killer stink eye to the rambunctious group. Tilting her head, she signaled to Renee that it was time to move along.

“If you don’t mind me asking, Helena…” Renee began talking as they weaved their way past countless obnoxious New Year’s themed decorations.

“What the hell are the Birds of Prey doing partying with a bunch of kids?” Helena flashed her signature sharp smile at Renee who felt her treacherous heart thump a little harder.

“Yeah, pretty much,” she’d only worked with the Birds a few times but she’d never seen any of those girls with them before. Although, a few of them did look awfully familiar.

“They’re family,” Helena replied. When Renee only looked more confused at her response, she explained further, “Steph and Cass are Spoiler and Batgirl. Cass is basically Babs’ daughter and where Cass goes, Steph goes. Mia is Speedy and like a surrogate daughter to Dinah and Sin is Dinah’s actual, adopted daughter. Lori and Charlie tried to get into the superhero business a while back and Babs basically took them in. She keeps them housed and fed and going to school and loves them like daughters, too. So, yeah, they’re family.”

Renee and Helena had stopped walking at some point in their conversation and were now standing between a set of giant, glittery numbers spelling out the upcoming year and the largest, most elaborate display of cupcakes Renee had ever seen. While Helena talked, Renee tried her hardest not to stare at her exposed abdomen or her leather-clad legs and, in doing so, found herself watching her full, dark purple-painted lips move as they formed words that Renee was definitely supposed to be listening to. After they’d stopped moving for a few seconds, Renee’s gaze snapped up to Helena’s sparkling brown eyes and blushed at her knowing look.

“That’s … pretty awesome that you guys have, like, a superhero family,” Renee ended up saying.

“Yeah, it kind of is.” Helena’s hand brushed against Renee’s.

Renee stopped breathing for a second.

“HEY YOU LOVE BIRDS! Stop hiding over here and come join the par-tay!”

Popping out from behind the giant, glittery 2 came Zinda Blake in all her obnoxiously loud and exuberantly happy glory. She was wearing the classic bartender outfit of slim, dark pants and black vest over a white shirt and her blonde hair was pulled back into a ponytail. She had a devilish smirk on her face as she wiggled her eyebrows at Renee and Helena.

“Zinda! We weren’t even-” Helena started to snap at her but Zinda just laughed and turned back the direction she came from.

“I’m just bustin’ your chops, Hel. But you really should come say hi to some more people or they’ll start wondering what you two are up to.”

Zinda winked at the two of them then began walking toward another group of women, clearly expecting Helena and Renee to follow, which the two women did after only a brief glance at each other’s embarrassed face.

In quick succession, Helena greeted and Renee was introduced to a Cindy, Kendra (who she was pretty sure was freaking Hawkgirl), Sonia, Kate (Spencer, not Kane) and Dawn. They were all friendly and welcoming (and evidently more than a little drunk) but Renee could have sworn as soon as Zinda led them away, they all started whispering and … did money exchange hands?

Renee still wasn’t sure whether she’d made the right decision, deciding to come to this party with Helena. She obviously enjoyed spending time with her and the party wasn’t awful or anything, but she just felt … out of place among all these team members, who knew each other so well. She had turned down a quiet night at Kate and Maggie’s for this! And why? Because she thought, just maybe, Helena had invited her because she was interested in her as more than a friend? Renee felt stupid for even thinking that could be the case. Even if Helena did think she was attractive, she’d never once done anything to truly indicate that she felt something romantic for Renee. And after her comment back at Renee’s apartment … well, they didn’t talk much about Renee’s past struggles with addiction but Renee felt surer than ever that anyone who knew that about her would never be able to feel anything more than pity for her.

Lost deeply in thought, Renee hadn’t even realized that they had reached the elaborate bar at the other end of the loft. Zinda slid behind the counter and started mixing, in Renee’s opinion, far too many liquids from different bottles together in an enormous mixer. Seated right by the bar was Barbara Gordon, Oracle herself, and Renee’s old boss’s daughter. She still couldn’t quite wrap her head around Jim Gordon’s little girl being the mysterious and all-knowing Oracle that every superhero and vigilante had asked for help from at least once. And sprawled across Barbara’s lap, her fish-net clad legs dangling over the arm of her wheelchair was Dinah Lance, the Black Canary. Even though Renee had met Dinah and even worked briefly with her before, she still felt a bit awe-struck in the presence of the stunning blonde. Her reverie was quickly ended, though, as Black Canary was, well, pretty damn plastered, if the empty glass in her hand and the glazed look in her eyes was any indication.

“Whatever was in this drink, Zind, is fucking magical,” she slurred in Zinda’s general direction while Barbara ran her hands through her sweaty, messy hair. “I feel unshtoppa- umshoppab-”

Dinah frowned as she struggled to articulate the word, then shrugged, “I feel like dancing! Take me back to the dance floor, Babs!” She ordered imperiously while stumbling off of her lap and beginning to stagger back to where some of the others were dancing to some music that was undoubtedly selected by one of the teenagers. Now that Dinah was out of Barbara’s lap, Renee could see that the mighty Oracle was also wasted, though not nearly as much, and she watched as she wheeled off after Dinah.

Helena had a funny look on her face as she also followed her two best friends progress across the room. After a minute, she realized she was staring and turned back to Renee, who was feeling and looking quite lost again.

She started to apologize, “I’m so sorry, Renee, I really didn’t think they’d be this drunk already. I know they’re the only other ones you really know here and I thought -”

Renee cut her off. “It’s New Year’s Eve, people get drunk, it’s fine, Helena. It really doesn’t bother me.”

Helena continued to look upset, though, so Renee turned to Zinda and asked, “Any chance you’ve got something non-alcoholic back there that’s not soda?”

Zinda paused mid-shake.

“On New Year’s Eve, lady? You’ve gotta be kiddin’ me! I’ll mix you up something so divine, you won’t even taste the alcohol-”

As Zinda spoke, three things occurred in quick succession. Helena attempted to leap over the bar, whether to slap a hand over Zinda’s unthinking mouth or strangle her, it’s impossible to know, because even Helena Bertinelli can only do so much while wearing the world’s tightest leather pants. Instead of cleanly soaring over the bar, she crashed into it, knocking bottles and glasses every which way. As everyone in the tower started to look toward the commotion, Renee Montoya took off toward the closest set of doors, which turned out to lead to a small balcony on the south-facing side of the tower. And, lastly, Zinda Blake’s brain caught up with that fast-shooting mouth of hers and she remembered that Helena had already told them that Renee abstained from drinking, and while she could be around alcohol, maybe don’t offer her any?

“Hel, sweetie, I’m so sorry. I wasn’t even thinkin’,” Zinda said, as Helena peeled herself off of the bartop and ignoring Zinda’s apologies and the mess of glass and liquor, rushed to the very doors Renee had just gone through.

Helena burst through the double doors out into the freezing, wintry air. She wasn’t sure what she expected to see out there but it almost certainly wasn’t Renee laughing her ass off, already covered in melting snowflakes and surrounded by an assortment of incongruously green plants.

Pausing in confusion, Helena managed one word, “What-”

Renee caught sight of her disheveled and distraught appearance and just started laughing harder.

“How are there … fucking tropical plants growing out here?” She wheezed. “It’s below fucking freezing.”

Still baffled, Helena responded, “Um… during a mission, we, er, liberated some of Poison Ivy’s experiments and after Babs determined they weren’t dangerous or anything, she put them out here. Turns out they’re, like, immune to the weather or some shit.”

“That actually makes a lot of sense.”

As Helena was talking, Renee slowly pulled herself together and grew more somber. Helena started to move toward her.

“I should’ve known this was a bad idea.”

“...what?” Helena stopped in her tracks at Renee’s words.

“Coming here. To a Birds of Prey New Year’s Eve party. I don’t belong here… I’m the Question not fucking Hawkgirl or Black Canary or whatever.”

“I don’t have any special powers, either.” Helena frowned. “And you do belong here. Because I invited you.”

Renee shook her head and turned to look at the view from the balcony. “Kate said this was a bad idea. I should’ve just listened to her.”

Helena’s frown grew bigger. “Of course, this is really about Kate Kane,” she muttered.

Renee whipped around. “What the fuck do you mean ‘of course it’s really about Kate Kane?”

“I mean that you’re still in love with her! And you can’t let yourself be happy with anything or anyone that’s not her!” Helena’s eyes widened as the words left her lips and she slapped her hand over mouth, but it was too late.

Renee’s eyes narrowed. “You think I’m still in love with Kate? And so, what, you invited me to this party to try and protect me from her? Just like you’re trying to protect me from alcohol? I don’t need your fucking protection, Helena!”

Helena reeled backwards at that. “No! I-I didn’t- I never-” She slowed. “You think I’m trying to protect you, Renee?”

“Well, yeah,” Renee answered. “That’s why you can’t act normal around me and alcohol and you freak out whenever I talk about Kate…” She trailed off at the look on Helena’s face.

“Renee… I don’t think I need to protect you. You’re just about the biggest badass in Gotham City, if not the entire planet!” Helena exclaimed.

“Bigger than Batman?”

“Easily bigger than Batman.” Helena started to move toward Renee again. “I - I was acting so weird tonight because I’m really fucking nervous, okay? And, I know I can be an inconsiderate bitch sometimes, and there’s so much alcohol on New Year’s Eve and I just didn’t want to act or say anything bitchy. And so I acted like a fucking idiot instead who thinks you can’t handle being around alcohol. I’m so stupid,” Helena spun and slammed her fist against the wall of the tower.

In the span of just five minutes, Renee had gone from feeling completely and utterly foolish and desperate to this wild, electric buzzing under her skin as Helena explained her actions. She licked her dry lips.

“And… the stuff with Kate…”

Helena didn’t face her. Staring at the wall, she said quietly, “I act weird when you talk about Kate because I know you’re still in love with her and … I’m so in love with you it physically hurts me to hear you be in love with someone who doesn’t love you back.”

Renee tapped on Helena’s shoulder. As Helena turned around, slowly, to face her, Renee slid both her hands up Helena’s muscular arms and grabbed her face gently.

“You idiot,” but she said it like she didn’t really think Helena was an idiot. At all. And she stretched up on her tiptoes and placed the lightest kiss on those stupid purple lips of hers.

Helena’s eyes fluttered shut and Renee couldn’t help admiring the way her long, dark lashes brushed against her cheekbones.

“You’re … not in love with Kate?” Helena whispered, too scared to open her eyes or move a muscle, lest Renee vanish into the dark night.

“Kate… is my best friend. My first love. But she has Maggie, now, and I … I … have you. If you’ll have me?”

Helena smiled tearily and pressed her lips against Renee’s again. This time it was not light and it was not gentle.

And they stood like that, wrapped in each others arms, kissing in the snowy night air, until Zinda opened the doors, Dinah and Babs (both far more sober then they’d been earlier in the night) behind her.

Simultaneously, the trio’s faces moved through showing concern, shock and, finally, happiness, entirely unnoticed by Renee and Helena.

Dinah finally cleared her throat and spoke, “You guys okay out here? Well, midnight’s in ten minutes. if you were curious, but it, uh, seems like you’ve got this handled.”

They so had it handled.

#sorry this is a little late #i hope you like it!!!#dc #helena bertinelli #renee montoya #helenarenee #i mightve got a little carried away

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what-big-teeth · 5 years ago

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Reveal (Cambion Boyfriend, pt. 1)

Gender Neutral Reader x Male Monster [Part 2] [Part 3] tw: mentions of alcohol ; kidnapping White rum, mint leaves, soda water, lime juice, and sugar… “Your mojito on the rocks. Enjoy!”

The middle-aged diner gives you a hearty thanks and slaps a fresh 20 dollar bill on the counter with a brown hand. He yells for you to keep the change over the noisy weekend crowd, and you’re more than happy to take the offer.

It’s another step closer to paying your way through graduate school.

At first, the idea of becoming a bartender after college didn’t sit well with your parents. Not because of the job choice, however. Your aunt’s popular mixology book collection is something they’re rather proud of. No, according to your folks, taking a long break from school could lead to you never going back.

They suggested taking out a few student loans to make ends meet. Live on campus to deal with a much lower residency fee. You agreed to staying in a dorm, but you couldn’t stomach being in near-perpetual debt for years to come. Very few people have gone through a higher educational career without incurring any debt. The odds of such a thing happening to you are astronomical. But damnit if you were at least going to try and curb whatever debt you could with your paychecks.

It helped that your place of employment was one of the more popular restaurants in town. Owned by a local, African-American family, Papa Ruben’s gained acclaim with time and great customer service. Hell, you were one of the diner’s loyal customers before Ben helped you land your job. Since starting, you’ve seen many familiar faces at the bar, but also just as many newcomers. Mostly family members joined by an undergrad or graduate student. And with the quick, accurate service you provide, many customers tip handsomely.

As you make a mental note to thank your aunt (who also served as your teacher), another rush of customers approach the barstools. All of them look at you expectantly, with the first customer who arrived dipping a pale hand into her purse.

You grin and flex your fingers.

Two gin and tonics; a round of tequila shots, four daiquiris, six red eyes, a sex on the beach. Change, bills, and even a few slips with scrawled phone numbers pile into your tip jar. The former is more important than the latter. More so as your heart is set on someone already. Too bad he wasn’t able to come tonight…

“I’ll take a Black Velvet in a Pilsner if you’ve got one.”

You pause from wiping down a cleaned, glass tumbler, perking up. There’s only one person you know who heavily favors such a drink.

A Black woman with deep brown skin leans onto the counter with her jacketed forearms. She shoves her thick natural hair—pulled back into a long braid— over her shoulder. Then grins.

“How’s my favorite barkeep?”

Her smile is infectious. “Holy shit, Jacqui? Is that you?!”

“The one and only,” she says. “Well, the one Jacqui that really matters.”

You chuckle, setting aside the tumbler. “I can’t believe you’re here in the flesh. I haven’t seen you in, what, four months?”

Her painted, red lips tremble and her smile falters.

“Five, actually.”

She goes quiet soon after and glances your way. For a moment, you think the odd light in her dark brown eyes is something akin to guilt. But it’s gone the next second, replaced by her usual confidence.

“But I’m back in town for a few days. You haven’t gone on break, have you?”

You shake your head, already knowing what she plans to ask.

“Got a minute to catch up?”

“For you? More than. Cass will be here soon to start her shift. When she comes, I’ll go on break.”

Jacqui plasters another grin on her face while you get to work on her drink. Once it’s ready, you set it in front of her on a coaster. Her hand quickly replaces yours as she takes a long sip.

“Thanks, babe. When it’s time, you know where to go.”

And with that, she slips off her barstool and past the bustling crowd gathering for more rounds.

This isn’t the first time Jacqui’s made herself at home at the restaurant. Mainly because she and Ben go back to their teenage years and he’s always had a soft spot for her. He treats her like the older sister he never had, mainly as all his elder siblings are boys. In turn, she treats him like a little brother.

It’s understandable; not having anyone around to claim you while growing up can get lonely. Ben will be just as pleased to see her, if he hasn’t already.

Cass arrives on time at a quarter ‘til nine, punctual as always. As she finishes tying her apron, she nods at you and effortlessly takes over once you finish making an appletini.

You squeeze past the busy wait staff and their large trays, waving at a few regulars who greet you by name. By the time you reach the break room, your stiff legs are crying out for relief. And you swiftly provide it by plopping down onto the old couch opposite the door.

The cushions are sunken and the fabric’s fading, but it’s part of Papa Ruben’s earlier days. The Moore family is wonderfully sentimental and this room is chock-full of older times. Photos of Papa Ruben himself, a younger snaggletoothed Ben and his two older brothers, their parents. There’s even a photo of a teenaged Jacqui surrounded by the Moore family.

Speaking of, the door opens, revealing Jacqui carrying a large sleeve of fries. She hops onto the couch next to you, offering some of her food. You snag four piping hot fries, juggling them between your hands.

“Courtesy of Ben?” you ask.

“Of course! My little bro always looks out for me.”

You lick your fingertips free of salt and ‘secret seasoning’ to cool the surface burns.

“Yeah,” you say. “Just like how the Moores would welcome you with open arms.”

She goes quiet, her expression turning neutral. She stares down at her food instead of replying.

“Whenever you visit, you always say you haven’t found a place to put down your roots,” you say. “What if that place is here with the Moores? With me and Cam?”

“It can’t be.” She places the still warm sleeve between the two of you. “I’ve done some stupid shit in the past, and it always find me when I let my guard down. I don’t want Ben, the Moores, Cam or you to get dragged into my mess. It’s something I have to deal with myself.”

You’ve had inklings about Jacqui’s rough past, but never any of the details. This is the closest she’s ever come to emphasizing just how bad things are. You try to think of a way to reason with her, but the break room’s door opens again.

Ben pokes his head inside, prompting Jacqui to slide a convincing smile onto her face.

“Here to offer me more free food?” she says with humor. “How sweet!”

“And have you eat my family out of house and home? No thanks,” he says.

You stifle a laugh, already used to their bickering. Ben rolls his eyes as Jacqui calls him a brat, opening the door fully while rubbing a golden brown hand over his bald head.

“To answer your question, someone’s here to see you. He rushed right over after I told him you were back in town.”

“You’re making it sound like I committed vehicular terror on the way over.”

A pleasant tingle runs down your spine at the familiar voice, in spite of the slight snark.

“With the way you drive,” Ben says, stepping out of the doorway, “Can it be anything else?”

“What’s that? You don’t want to bum another ride in the future?”

At that, Ben’s mouth snaps shut. You all know he’d rather enjoy some peace and space in a car not shared with his brothers. Cam steps through the doorway, chuckling.

“That’s what I thought.”

It doesn’t matter how many times you see him. Every time is new and comparable to that quiet moment during a movie night in college when you realized your feelings for him. A charming smile stretches the rich, golden brown skin of Can’s face and his thick lips as he steps past Ben.

Before you’re able to calm your pulse, Jacqui hops off the couch. You’re able to save her lukewarm fries before they fall over as she pulls Cam into a tight hug.

“Good luck dealing with her,” Ben says.

After reminding you of the end of your break, he heads out. Leaving you to watch Jacqui smack Cam on the back a few times while laughing.

“Look at you!” Jacqui pulls away from him, giving him a quick look over. “I see you decided to upgrade your fashion sense to show off your good looks. Finally. The red bomber jacket and Timbs look good, but the bottle coke glasses? Not so much.”

“Tell that to my eye doctor,” he says.

You watch as they fall into a seamless conversation, filled with snark and laughter. Jacqui even reaches up to playfully tug at one of the short dreadlocks on top of his head. As she comments on how well they pair with his fade haircut, a heavy weight forms in your stomach at the sight. They’re just friends and you know this without a doubt. But that doesn’t stop the bitter jealousy from welling up inside.

As if hearing your thoughts, Cam’s gaze finds yours and he smiles. His dark brown eyes make your stomach flutter in the best of ways.

“I-I thought you had a test to study for,” you manage to say.

“Still do,” Cam says. “But it’s kinda hard to think on an empty stomach. My brain needs some fuel and a break. Plus, I wanted to check on you since you mentioned tonight would be busy.”

Heat fills your cheeks as a small smile stretches your lips.

“Thanks,” you say. The light in Cam’s eyes grows soft.

Of course. We’re friends, after all.

”The moment between the two of you swiftly ends. Because that’s all you are. Just friends. You nod in reply, helping yourself to a few of Jacqui’s fries as she teases him about gunning for an anthropology degree. Cam just rolls his eyes at her before fishing his smartphone from his jacket.

“Order’s ready. I should get back to studying.” He glances up at you with a caring smile. “Let me know if you want to cancel tomorrow’s trip to the bakery. I’ll understand if you’re too tired—”

“I’ll be fine,” you quickly say, “promise.”

“Cool. Have a good night, and be safe on your way home.”

As Cam heads out with one last wave, a gentle tug pulls the now crumpled sleeve of cold fries from your hands. Jacqui lifts a brow at the food then you, giving you a knowing look.

“Oh honey.”

You stiffen. Your brain attempts to think of any excuse or denial, but falls short. You lean back against the couch, sighing in defeat.

“Am I really that obvious?”

“Sure, to Ben and me. But to Cam? Not so much, which is ridiculous. You haven’t tried kissing the living daylights out of him yet?”

“Jacqui.”

“What? It’s a legitimate question. You guys grew up together, lost contact, then reconnected in college. What’s the hold up?”

You purse your lips, crossing your arms over your chest.

“I don’t want to mess up things between us. Yeah, I may like him more as a friend, but I don’t want to ruin our friendship.”

A gentle touch grips your shoulder.

“Sweetheart, you wouldn’t ruin anything by letting him know. Seriously.”

You just shake your head, attempting to give Jacqui a reassuring smile. The concerned light in her eyes tells you it falls horribly short.

“You should join us tomorrow morning after visiting the Moores,” you say, getting up. “Let me know if you want another Black Velvet, alright?”

You leave before Jacqui is able to get another word in.

The rest of your shift is busy, but uneventful. You accrue a huge amount of tips from pleased customers and more slips bearing phone numbers. You and Cass split the money based on the number of hours you both work. When she offers to take some of the number off your hands, you let her. The rest, you crumple and toss into the trash.

The doors to Papa Ruben’s closes at 11 PM sharp, with you, Cass, Ben, and the other staff members congratulating each other on a job immensely well done. After grabbing your belongings, you bid your co-workers a good night.

With the way your stiff legs are throbbing, you’re wishing you hadn’t parked down the way to avoid the early rush. You sigh with relief as your vehicle comes into view. Just a little bit more, and you’ll be on your way home.

You aren’t able to take another step.

The grip on your upper arm surprises you. It tightens to a painful vice and brings you to your knees.

Quick as lightning, another hand swiftly grabs the back of your neck, forcing your nose to the concrete.

“If you try and scream,” a feminine voice says, “that breath will be your last.”

There’s no hesitation in your assailant’s voice. Just a menacing promise laced with danger. You fight against your mounting fear and swallow audibly. Then go lax.

“Good.”

You barely hear the sound of shoes scraping against the sidewalk over your frantic pulse.

“Well?” an unfamiliar, male voice asks.

“You were right. This one’s got the pheromonal stink of a cambion on them. Strong, too.”

“Bear with it a bit longer.” You can hear a smile in the male’s voice. “It’ll be a scent relegated to your memories soon enough.”

One moment you hear shuffling. The next, your wrists are tightly bound together. A piece of cloth is forced past your teeth and tied tightly behind your neck.

Then, a sharp prick to your wrist. Your body seizes.

“Pleasant dreams,” the female voice mocks.

Black spots begin to overtake your vision as you’re lifted from the ground.

“Let’s go. We’ve got a trap to set.”

It’s the last thing you hear before everything goes dark.

#cambion boyfriend #monster boyfriend #monster romance #exophilia #terato #half demon #half-demon #this is the first time writing a gender neutral reader #so I hope it's okay #expect part 2 soon!

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queenbirbs · 4 years ago

Text

the way home | Ch. 6 | Edward x MC

Pairing: Edward Mortemer x MC

Word count: 4,175

Warnings: language, N*FW

Read from the beginning or continue on

Read on AO3

Tag list: @writinghereandthere | @not-sewell

------

Two days later, the brigantine they found passage on arrives in Santo Domingo’s port.

In the grand scheme of things -- that being the two years she spent hunting down a permanent trip back to the past, and the several weeks she’s spent since then hunting down Edward himself-- it isn’t that much time. Elena’s heart still races, though, when she sees the familiar form of Salacia’s Fortune in the harbor.

“I’ll collect yer bag and bring it aboard before I leave,” Robert tells her as they make their way down the port where Edward’s ship awaits. “We can say our farewells then, and you can thank me for saving yer sorry arse again and again.”

Elena snorts, prompting a chuckle out of him.

“Please, as if.”

“I may not have always shown it, but I did come to value yer friendship.”

“Even when I kicked your ass and stole your sword?”

“Ah, but we weren’t friends then, were we?” he points out. “Besides, we both know now that I was just going easy on ye.”

“Oh, were you?”

The gangplank jostles under their weight; Elena ignores Robert’s warning to be careful as she races up to the ship’s deck. It’s nearly empty, save for three pirates who turn to frighten off the unwelcome strangers on their boat.

“Oi, who in the devil’s blaze--” one of them starts to shout before they’re silenced by a squeal.

“Elena!” Ginny shrieks, racing across the deck and plowing into her. Elena wraps her arms around the girl and hugs her tight. “We missed you so, so much.”

“I missed you, too.” Elena pulls back to study the girl. “Oh my god, Ginny, you’re so tall. How did you get so tall?”

“Being sixteen helps, I guess,” she grins.

Elena’s thoughts screech to a halt. “Sixteen? But -- wait, how long was I gone?”

“It’ll be six years next month. But we never gave up on you! Captain always told us to keep believing that you would come back.” Ginny looks up at her with those bright brown eyes of hers. “And you did, see?”

“Yeah,” Elena agrees, her voice breaking upon the word. “I did.”

Time worked differently in the future, that she always knew. But the last time she’d come back, she never learned what year it was before being dragged back to the future. Knowing that almost six years had passed since Edward last saw her made his reaction in the governor’s mansion a little more understandable.

“Captain’s out looking for you right now, actually, but he should be back soon. I told him to stay on the ship, that you would head here first obviously,” Ginny stresses the word and rolls her eyes, “but you know how he is.”

Robert sighs from beside them. “Aye, we know. I’ve business to attend to in town, but if I see him, I’ll herd him yer way, Elena.”

“Thank you,” she tells him, trying to convey as much of her gratitude into the two words as she can. “And good luck with your own search.”

The beginnings of a genuine smile flicker onto Robert’s face before he clears his throat, nodding at her once before disappearing back down the gangplank. Ginny wraps her hand around her arm and tugs.

“C’mon. You can meet the rest of the crew while we wait for the others to return.”

As much as she wants to run into town and hunt him down herself, Elena realizes that staying in one place in a town this large makes the most sense. She lets Ginny lead her over to the other two pirates, one of whom introduces herself as Ginny’s girlfriend, Lottie. They barrage her with questions about the future, most of which she skirts around answering -- she’s already caused enough trouble with the space-time continuum as it is. By the time the rest of the crew arrive, the sun has begun its descent. They take turns sweeping Elena into their sweaty, rum-scented hugs and their good-natured bickering.

“The Cap’n’ll be sorry that we beat him to ye,” Maggie says.

“Glad to have ye back, Elena.” Henry claps a hand on her shoulder and squeezes tight. “None of these swabs give my cookin’ a fair chance.”

“He once scraped barnacles off the hull and fried ‘em!” Kendrick exclaims.

From her perch atop the railing, Ginny gags. “He called them a ‘Caribbean delicacy’.”

“The only thing delicate ‘round here is yer stomachs.”

“They don’t have the experienced palette that I do,” Elena points out.

“I dunno, I don’t think even you could’ve--” Ginny pauses, her long braids swinging as she jerks back around to scan below. “Oi! Captain’s back!”

Elena races to the railing and grips it tight, nearly throwing herself overboard in her attempt to catch sight of him. Even in the dimming light, she picks Edward out of the crowd with ease. He’s distracted, moving steadily along the wharf and scouring the throngs of people. Too busy looking for her that he doesn’t see her aboard his ship. She calls his name, once, then again, before his head finally snaps up.

He stumbles to a halt in the middle of the market. A woman runs into him, chastising him in a rapid burst of Spanish. He ignores the woman, sheer elation spreading across his face. His grin is almost blinding in the low light.

“Elena!”

Shouting her name seems to kickstart him. The sack of food in his hand drops to the ground, forgotten; mangoes and bread loaves scatter across the planks. He darts through the crowd, dodging shoppers and vendors with ease before leaping up onto the gangplank. He reaches the top just as Elena does and swings her up into his arms, crushing her against him.

“You’re here,” he exhales.

“I’m so sorry, I didn’t know I would be gone for so--”

He silences her with a kiss, and then with another when she tries again to apologize.

“Time matters not. If it had been a hundred more days or a hundred more years, I would have waited,” he assures her. “You’re here. That’s all that matters. You’re here.”

“You keep saying that.”

His breath escapes him in a soft chuckle, leaning into her touch as she cups his cheek. “I may keep doing so for the rest of my life.”

“Then I’ll be here to hear you.” At the naked hope in his gaze, she can’t help but tell him now. “We found a permanent way back. It’s what took me so long, searching for a way to stay.”

“Forever?” he repeats, the word tasting like ambrosia upon his lips.

“Yeah,” she chokes out. His thumb makes gentle sweeps along her forehead, brushing back the stray hairs there. “Forever.”

“Alright, you lovebirds.” Charlie climbs up onto the deck with a crate and sets it down with a rattle. “I say we all have a drink--”

“--or five!” Kendrick adds.

“--to celebrate our lass’s long-awaited return. What say you lot?”

The chorus of ayes echoes across the wharf. Edward drops his hold from her waist and reaches down for her hand, nodding his head towards the crew.

“Shall we?”

“Sure, why not.” She bumps their linked hands against him. “I’ve got time.”

The party continues long after the sun slinks away. Unmoored from its daytime hideaway, the moon drifts high into the sky, casting a brilliant glow across the ship as the crew celebrates. Elena’s feet hurt from taking a turn across the makeshift dance floor with each crew member. Some of the shanties she knows and some she doesn’t -- though, in her defense, they don’t seem to know them all that well, either, especially by the sixth bottle of rum.

“Ye’ve got to show us some future dances one of these days, ‘lena.”

She shakes her head at Henry’s request, side-stepping to avoid her feet being crushed again and giggling at the idea. “I’m not sure you guys would be able to handle my twenty-first century dancing.”

As if he can sense that she’s had her fill of Henry’s clumsy footwork, Edward appears beside her with an open palm.

“May I step in, Miss McTavish?”

Elena eagerly takes his hand. Henry does something resembling a curtsy and moves off to snatch up another partner. Stepping into the circle of his arms, she rests her head on Edward’s chest and breathes a sigh of relief.

“Thanks for the rescue.”

Edward brushes his lips against her hair and hums. “I suppose I should be the one thanking you for rescuing us. Even if you sent me into a panic, retreating back into enemy territory like that.”

She wants to laugh at his worries, but the heartache in his tone tells her to recount her harrowing adventures another time. Instead, she gives a reassuring squeeze to their linked hands.

“I knew that you had the opportunity to escape,” she explains. “Even if it meant leaving me behind.”

His chest tightens underneath her.

“‘Tis not fair to use my own words against me like that.”

“Not fair to guilt me for saving your asses.”

“Hmm. Touché.” There is nothing but the drunken crooning of the crew and the distant lapping of waves for a moment, then: “It’s getting rather late. Should I show you to our cabin?”

“I’d like that.”

The interior is just as she remembers.

The same Persian rug, the same tidy stacks of books and papers atop the desk, the same pile of pillows that Edward insists on having but never bothers to put back on the bed. Returned to her by Robert during the party, her duffel bag sits on top of her trunk, still in her favorite spot under the window. Her pillow, embroidered with a rose when Kendrick wanted to show off his sewing skills, lays propped against the headboard. A small jar of seashells she collected from their previous travels is tucked away safely in the bookcase. A spare coat of hers hangs from the chair; she runs her fingers over it, tears springing to her eyes at the sight.

“I couldn’t bear the thought of stowing it away,” Edward says, closing the cabin door behind them.

“You kept it this way? For six years?”

“For five years, eleven months, and two days.” Elena covers her mouth and drags in an unsteady breath. He crosses the room and guides her into his arms. “I wasn’t lying, Elena, when I told you that I would wait for you. We weren’t sitting idle, of course. We sailed across the Atlantic, o’er to Portugal and made a few trips around the Mediterranean, but there was always a… pull to return here.”

“To home,” she finishes for him.

“Aye. I even sought the help of a mystic in Constantinople to try and reach you, but I was only able to catch a glimpse. You were surrounded by other pirates, on a half-formed ship. And there were all these strange lights.”

Elena squints at the necklace he wears in concentration, scanning through her memories, when the realization hits her.

“That’s… you were there. On the set, just before the compass took me here the first time.”

“Madam Fatima did say time was tricky,” he says, to which Elena acknowledges with a humorless chuckle. “Were you… earlier, were you speaking the truth? That you found a way to stay? I have always hoped to hear you say those words, but even… even if you cannot stay forever, I would never turn my back on this strange arrangement that time has gifted us. But I would like to prepare my heart, if I could.”

Taking his face between her hands, she tilts his head down so she can meet his gaze directly.

“This isn’t some temporary fix. I spent two years searching the world over for a permanent way back to you. And sure, I don’t have faith with most things in life. The one thing I do have faith in, though, is us.”

Edward lays his hand over hers and turns to press a kiss against her palm. Under the heavy lids of his eyes, she can see the faint glittering of tears. “In fact,” she continues, “I got you something from the future to prove it to you.”

“I don’t require any further proof than you here beside me.”

“Hush and let me give you my souvenir.” Elena crosses over to the duffel bag and unzips the interior pocket. She pulls a small leather box out and hands it to him. “Open it,” she prompts when he merely stares at the object.

The golden ring sits on a velvet perch, outshone only by the deep blue stone that rests in the center. “It’s lapis lazuli. It reminded me of our first time up in the crow’s nest together, on Poseidon’s Revenge. Standing up there with you, with that endless stretch of sea and sky. That was our first moment, and I wanted the ring I chose for you to embody that.”

The corner of his mouth lifts in a secretive sort of smile. Before she can ask, though, he steps over to his desk. From the drawer, he pulls a wooden box out and hands it to her.

“I believe that we are bound by the tides of fate, for I purchased this for you, as well.”

“Okay, see, that’s not fair. I made a cheesy joke about souvenirs, and you come in with your Lord Byron line.”

His brow wrinkles in confusion. “Who?”

“Don’t worry about it,” she says with a flap of her hand and opens the box. Nestled on a bed of silk, a ring gleams in the candlelight. Thin vines of gold twist up along the band to frame an opalescent stone. The multicolored flecks inside the stone glimmer as Edward plucks the ring from the box and reaches for her trembling hand.

“It is a moonstone. The merchant I bought it from said that it was to symbolize protection and to bring estranged lovers together.”

“It’s beautiful,” she tells him as he slides it onto her finger.

“Aye, almost as lovely as its wearer.”

“See, that’s the cheesy line I was waiting for,” Elena tells him with a soft giggle. He smiles and holds out his hand. The ring is a near-perfect size, she marvels as it works easily down his finger. “Pretty damn good for being several lifetimes away.”

“Five years, eleven months, and two days,” he repeats, his voice thick with the myriad of emotions that play across his face.

“I’m here.” Wrapping her arms around his neck, she pulls him even closer and sets her lips on his once, then again, reassuring him each kiss. “You can stop counting.”

Her words strike a chord deep within; the taut lines of him seem to snap, his body colliding with hers as he backs her up against the wall. His touch is everywhere at once, clenching desperately around handfuls of her clothing and coaxing her free of the garments. Their kisses are frantic, heady things, deepening with the soft slide of his tongue against hers. Elena shoves off his coat and strips him of his belts, letting his sword clatter to the floor. The rest of his clothes join the pile at their feet. Edward wraps an arm around her back and hauls her even closer, grinning at her soft moan when her naked skin touches his.

“I have dreamt of this moment for many a night,” he admits, his stubble tickling as he nips along her bare shoulder, grasping and tugging her hair back when it blocks his path. “I had… had hoped to go slow with ye, lass.”

Elena hums at the hot feel of his hand skimming down her stomach and dragging across the soaked skin between her legs. Her head lolls back against the cabin wall. Not one to be idle, she glides her palm across the warm planes of his chest, leaving trails of heat in her wake. His hand becomes more determined, seeking out and rubbing the spot that makes her breath hitch in anticipation.

“That’s really sweet of you and all,” she chuckles. “But my dreams of this moment mostly included you fucking my brains out.”

A strangled laugh escapes him, his head shaking as he leans down for another kiss.

“Good to see that you haven’t lost that assertiveness.”

As if to prove it, Elena dances him backwards in a lazy sort of two-step until his knees hit the mattress. He loops an arm around her hips and tumbles down with her, smirking when she emits a little yelp of surprise. There, the warm length of his body slides along hers and a delicious wave of sensation follows. Her back arches towards the soft, wet heat of his lips as he worships the swell of her breasts. He traces the golden necklace she wears, curiosity lighting his dark eyes when he glances up at her. Elena gathers her hair and dips her head forward, letting him remove the whistle from around her neck. With great care, she takes it from him and lays it on the floor beside the bed. His mouth travels lower, lower, until her hands are scrambling across the blankets, her head twisting to the side as she gasps for him to keep going, for him to send her over the edge. Pleasure soaks into her like a warm bath, seeps deep into her skin and down into the marrow of her bones.

“Edward,” she murmurs, then repeats, as if seeking repentance for the sinful sensation of his mouth on her. “Please, I…” her begging is lost under a ragged whine as her release washes over her.

As her heartbeat settles, Edward returns to the circle of her embrace. He hums with content as she strokes the bare skin of his back. A rumble works through his chest at the sight of her beneath him.

“I have traveled the world over and have never found anything so exquisite as the taste of you.”

Elena settles back against the pillows and quirks her lips into a grin. “That’s high praise coming from someone who has Henry for a cook.” A giggle escapes her at his scoff.

“You just wait,” he taunts, “you’ll be crowned taste-tester again.”

“I lived off of gas station food for a long while there,” she shrugs. “I think I can handle it.”

Before he can ask about the foreign terminology -- she loves him, she really does, but that eager part of him to learn new things has to take a backseat to other enjoyment sometimes -- she winds both hands through his hair and hauls him down for a kiss. Hint taken, Edward’s lips return to hers with a fervor. She loses herself to his touch once more, answering in kind with her own when she reaches down to stroke him. With a growl, he pulls back to position himself between her legs. His fingers clamp around her hips as she makes aborted little thrusts against him, spurring him on.

“Elena,” he gasps as he sinks into her. He takes his sweet time letting her adjust to the feel of him, nibbling at the flushed skin of her throat and up to her earlobe. “Elena.”

“Yes,” she answers, cinching her legs tight around his waist. The sinful drag of him inside her is almost enough to throw her over the edge again. “Yes, god, Edward, I-- please, don’t--”

His lips crash down onto hers. His tongue swipes at her heavy bottom lip, lapping each praise from her mouth as he drives into her. Every sense is invaded by him -- his scent and his taste and his touch, until arousal clogs every synapse and every pore and the concept of spontaneous combustion tips closer to a theory for her.

One of his hands slips down to stroke her to the rhythm of his thrusts. She moans, her nails digging into the solid muscle along his arms.

“Elena, love,” he growls, his teeth scraping along her jaw as he speaks, “come for me.”

The first wave drags her under, a breaking wave of sensation cresting right on top of the last. She’s vaguely aware of her body going taut under his, of her toes curling against the slick skin of his thighs, of the beautiful sight of Edward tumbling over the edge with her. He pulls out and collapses next to her on the bed, holding her close as she settles against his chest. Elena stretches with a long groan, uncaring of the stupid, sated smile on her face.

“Did you put in a skylight?” she murmurs.

The hand tracing nonsensical patterns across her shoulder slows. “What?”

“I was… making a joke. About seeing stars.”

“Oh.” Elena looks up to meet his confused gaze, prompting them both to chuckle at the poor joke. “I have missed this,” he says. “Not just the sex, but this -- you, here by my side. Poseidon himself could promise me a better sight, and I would not believe him.”

A hum leaves her as she nestles closer into his warmth, her throat tightening around the thousand things she wants to tell him.

“Do you remember what you said to me, that first night?”

“Aye, I do.”

Elena presses a kiss to his chest, just above his heart.

“I think I’m ready for the rest of our story.”

------

Soft slivers of fuschia and lilac seep through the salt-streaked window. Fissures of vivid orange follow after as sunlight spills over the long line of the horizon. Elena watches the play of colors across Edward’s face, lax with sleep. Of the past two times she’d returned to his side, she’d been flung back to her century before the next dawn came. It’s no wonder, then, that his arm has stayed firmly wrapped around her throughout the night.

Gradually, he awakens; his arm flexes and his fingers clench and his eyes flutter open to search for her.

“Good morning,” he rumbles, his voice rough with sleep.

“Hi.” She leans up on her elbow and captures his lips with a kiss. “I’m glad you’re awake. I want to do something with you.”

“Really?” A lascivious grin spreads across his face. “Do tell.”

With a sigh, Elena swats at his chest and sits up. “C’mon, you rapscallion.”

They locate their clothes and get dressed. After several more kisses, she leads him out onto the deck. The endless expanse of the ocean greets them, her water almost as blue as the morning sky. Santo Domingo is but a faint scratch of land behind them. With most of the crew still sleeping in their quarters, the shadowed corner of the stern is all theirs. Stepping up to the railing, she pulls the necklace from her pocket.

“I noticed that last night. What is it?” he asks.

“It’s what I spent two years searching for.” She traces the initials on the whistle and looks up at him. “It’s my way back to my time. Before we found it, I’d almost given up. I was desperate enough to come back by another anomaly, just to have the chance to see you one last time.”

“One last…?” he trails off, reaching for her hand and taking it between both of his. “Elena?”

“You didn’t deserve to live like this, to wait on me to find my way back, to waste your time sailing the--”

“Listen good and well,” he demands, anger darkening his features just before he crushes her against him in a tight embrace. “Searching for you, waiting on you ‘twas never a waste. I love you, and I would’ve never given up on you. But I am damned glad that you’re here to stay now.” He pulls back enough to glance between the necklace and her. “What do you intend to do with it?”

“I’m returning it.”

Leaning up on her toes, she plants a quick kiss to his cheek before she stretches her arm out over the railing and lets go. The necklace shimmers as it falls, plummeting straight into the water below. A shuddering breath escapes them both as the whistle disappears beneath the waves.

“By the way,” Elena says after a quiet moment, “I love you, too.”

“Oh. Good.” With a smirk, he pulls her closer. “It would be rather awkward if you didn’t.” He leans down and captures the laughter from her lips.

“Oi!” Henry shouts from behind them. “Breakfast is ready!”

They pull away from each other, sharing a wordless conversation as he draws closer.

“We’ll be down in a moment, Henry!” Edward calls across the deck. “Captain McTavish and I will take watch and let the rest of the crew eat first.”

“Nay, it may’ve been a long while, but I’m not fallin’ for that one again! C’mon and get it while it’s hot.”

“He’ll just keep at it if we don’t come,” she mutters.

“Aye, lass, he will.”

“Alright.” A smile follows her long-suffering sigh. “Let’s go.”

Reaching down for her hand, Edward leads her across the deck and out into the morning sun.

#distant shores #edward x mc #edward mortemer #distant shores fic #f: the way home #Kaila writes things #this is the last official chapter and next is the epilogue and then it's done!

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mnthpprt · 4 years ago

Text

Chapter 45: Skeletons In The Garden

It has been almost a week since I decided to give William a chance. More than that, I decided to earn his trust, no matter what it took. I think I am succeeding so far, but there is a price I have to pay. With every day we spend together in town, with every night we join our bodies into one, we become closer. Just as I have gained his trust, he is beginning to gain mine. I have to constantly remind myself why I came here, but then he looks at me with that smile, that light in his eyes... It takes all my effort not forget the reason I agreed to be with him in the first place.

I sleepily stumble around the kitchen in search of the jar of ground coffee, wearing nothing but William’s dressing gown. I borrowed it again last night to head back to my bedroom and fell asleep in it. Though the sleeves are way too long for me, the fabric is luxurious and soft, and I have taken up the habit of stealing it after our nightly activities.

A few minutes ago, William woke me up without bothering to knock on my door. He said we were going somewhere, but did not explain any further. I was too tired to ask. Though it is not that early, I have been having more trouble sleeping than usual, and I have the feeling it has nothing to do with my new vampiric condition. Fuck, this man drives me insane in every way possible: I either want to kiss him, break his nose, or both. That last one gets very confusing, and usually ends up involving lots of bites from me, out of anger, and from him, in retaliation.

I pour a cup for him before taking my coffee up to my bedroom. I stare at my clothes, which are laid out on the bed, as I drink it. I have been putting off returning to the mansion for my stuff, but I do need more dresses. I would also like to resume my research, so I’ll have to borrow some books for that.

When I return downstairs, empty cup in hand and hair loosely braided, William is waiting for me on the sofa. He offers me a bottle of rouge, and I pet Puck as I take it.

“Today is the troupe’s day off,” I observe.

“I know,” he simply replies. Where is he taking me? As if he could read my mind, he smiles and sips his rouge before explaining. “Dost thou remember how I wanted thee to meet someone?”

I nod, but narrow my eyes as the implication sinks in. Either he really trusts me enough to introduce me to his deranged accomplice, or this is his way to get rid of me once and for all. Sure, he has been nothing but charming and sweet since I moved into his house, but this is William. If there is a God, even He doesn’t know what he’s plotting.

An hour later, our carriage pulls up next to an old church. From the outside, I see no signs of it being used. It looks rather abandoned. However, as we approach the entrance, I catch the scent of burning candles, meaning there must be people inside. What is this place?

The wooden door creaks loudly when William pushes it open, just enough for us to pass through. Once inside, he closes it behind us.

“Please lock that, will you?” a man’s voice chimes from the altar. I cannot see him, but I hear glass tinkering behind the decorative screen in the back.

“Do not worry, we shall be quick,” William says, but obliges anyway. Great, now I am trapped here with a stranger who might have killed me.

He takes my hand and guides me down the nave. Our steps echo ominously under the high stone arches, and I have to take a deep breath to relax. Do not show them you are nervous, Anaïs, for they might take it the wrong way. For God’s sake, act normal.

We walk past the altar and into the ambulatory, where the stranger in question seems to have set up a lab of sorts, packed with all kinds of flasks, beakers, and, uh... medical equipment. Creepy. He is slightly taller than William, slender and dressed in clothing as black as his hair, and wears glasses with a chain around his neck.

“What do we have here?” he asks with a malicious grin that gives me shivers. He has a mild German accent. “Is this the neophyte you mentioned? She would make a fine guinea pig...”

“No, thank you.” He raises an eyebrow at my quick reply, while William chuckles and wraps his arm around my waist.

“My nightshade, this is Johann Georg Faust. Johann, meet Anaïs.”

“Faust like the legend?”

“The very same,” William smiles.

“Oh. Nice to meet you, I guess. So, um... What are you doing there?” I ask, pointing at the collection of scribbled on papers and lab equipment.

“Nothing you need to concern yourself with, fräulein Anaïs. I am sure you would find my experiments rather tedious...”

I ignore the condescending tone of his answer. A sculpture behind him has caught my eye. Faust interrupts his deceivingly polite excuse when I march past him to approach it.

“Oh, hell no,” I mumble. “María, cariño, ¿qué te han hecho? (Mary, honey, what have they done to you?)”

I reach up to touch the Virgin’s gilded coat and, sure enough, the gold leaf crumbles in my fingers, leaving behind a glittery mess. I turn to the bespectacled man, only for my look of indignation to be met with his, equal parts intrigued and offended.

“She’s falling apart! See?” I show the golden dust on my palm to the two men. “I need to fix this before it gets-” Oh no he didn’t. Right beside Faust, on his work table, I see a clean rag neatly folded beside a bottle of clear liquid. ‘Carbolic acid’, the label reads. I bring the cloth to my nose and immediately put two and two together. “You wiped it with phenol?!” I exclaim, incredulous, as I furiously wave the rag around. “I don’t know why you needed to disinfect poor Mary over here in the first place, but for fuck’s sake, don’t do it again. God, no wonder everyone hates this stupid century, y’all discover something and decide to use it for everything without ever thinking about what it might do.”

“Everyone?” William asks, confused.

“This century?” Faust says almost at the same time.

“In my line of work, I mean,” I explain, completely ignoring the second question. I am not sure how safe it would be for me to mention that I come from the future. “Seriously, the amount of damage I’ve had to undo is insane. Why you people use so many questionable compounds is beyond me. Can I borrow a scalpel?”

“You came through the door,” Faust states. Shit, I guess he knows about it.

“Yes, I’m from the future,” I sigh, before grabbing a scalpel myself, not bothering to wait for permission.

I return my focus to the sculpture and carefully examine it. The state it is in is poorer than I had previously noticed. Judging by the proportions, it looks gothic. That makes it around 300 years old at least. Though the passage of time has obviously taken its toll, I have no doubt that its degradation has been made worse by well-meaning yet ignorant attempts at preserving it. Or, in Faust’s case, by his attempt to prep the area for whatever freaky surgical shit he has going on here. I must admit, the fact that he allegedly sold his soul to the devil for knowledge does not exactly reassure me about his intentions.

“The year 2020, to be exact,” I continue as I awkwardly manoeuvre around the sculpture to scrape some paint and gesso off the back in order to check the state of the wood underneath. “I’m guessing you’re not a pureblood... Do you know how to use a shotgun, by any chance?” I ask casually without looking up from my delicate task.

“Is this about Salieri?” Judging by Faust’s tone, I can tell he is rolling his eyes. “That would be Charles,” he sighs. Whoever this Charles is, Faust sounds like a bored babysitter. He has no interest in the conversation whatsoever. “May I have my scalpel back? You’re going to blunt it.”

“I’m almost done.” I manage to cut a cross section just in time to see him approach and forcibly take the sharp object from my hand. I then make my way back to the work table and search for what I need, carefully holding the thin slice of wood and gesso between my fingers. “Do you have a... What are they called, those round looky things with the handle?”

“Magnifying glass,” William aids.

“Yeah, that. Actually,” I change my mind when I see a pile of neatly stacked glass slides, “I’m gonna take one of these. I forgot that microscopes already exist. Where is yours, anyway?”

“Safely locked away,” the alchemist deadpans. Oh well, it looks like I’ll have to save my sample for later, then.

William takes my hand and gently ushers me away from the improvised lab, I assume to stop me from annoying its owner any further. Though he acts polite, I can tell it is nothing more than a weak façade that could drop any second.

“My dearest,” he says, “we should move on to the reason of our visit?”

“Vlad, was it?” I nod. He merely mentioned the name in passing days ago, but I have hung onto that minuscule snippet of information like my life depends on it. It might.

He leads me to a discrete door nestled in the corner of the transept to our left. Before we can reach it, however, Faust calls out from behind the altar.

“I look forward to studying you, fräulein.”

“Well, I do not!” I sing in response. He lets out an unnerving chuckle that I decide to ignore.

I follow William through the door and up a dark staircase. As we walk along the hallway, I get the feeling that he does not know exactly where he is leading me, either. Still, he finds the person he was looking for inside a small room. It looks like it had been used for storage in the past, but now is completely empty save for a desk and a few chairs. The white haired man sitting on one of them looks up when we enter through the already open door. This must be him. The pureblood that is going after the residents.

He is strikingly beautiful, despite the unnervingly red shade of his eyes. Dressed in expensive clothes, he moves elegantly to greet me. I instinctively do the polite thing and offer my hand for him to hold.

“Anaïs Bertran, I presume?” His voice is slightly breathy, and as delicately controlled as his poise. “You are as beautiful as a rose.”

I do not dare to complain out loud, but I give William an exasperated look, causing him to laugh. I smack his arm.

“Stop being a dickhead,” I scold him, even though I have to hold back a smile.

“Ah, I see you have thorns as well,” the other man chuckles. “It is rare for such a pretty flower to be so foul mouthed. I must confess I appreciate it, it adds character. Was that some kind of joke between you two?”

“I guess you could call it that,” I sigh. “I just think there are more interesting flowers to be compared to.”

“Such as?” he prompts.

“I don’t know, lisianthus, dahlias... Sunflowers are pretty nifty, and I’ve always liked orchids. People tend to think they’re really hard to grow, for some reason, but they just need a bit of attention and the right amount of light. Chrysanthemums are also really cool...” I ramble.

“Those are an old favorite of mine, but not as much as roses, I’m afraid. Do you enjoy gardening?”

“Is it that obvious?” I chuckle, embarrassed. “But yeah, I worked as a florist for a few years.”

“Oh?” he smiles. “I own a flower shop in town. I sense we are going to get along well, Anaïs. Oh my, how rude of me! I forgot to introduce myself. You may call me Vlad.”

“Well, it’s a pleasure to finally meet you,” I politely say before tilting my head. “I have to say, I find it a bit strange to be here, speaking to you. I mean, you sent a sniper after Salieri to stop him from revealing your identity, yet here we are, being formally introduced,” I remark.

“Yes, I am well aware of the incident that took place. Quite a fortunate outcome you got, don’t you think?”

“If by fortunate you mean bleeding out in a sewer, then sure, but I beg to differ.” A cold smile accompanies my response. Not only did dying obliterate any semblance of a schedule I had, it also caused me to be turned into... this. I have nothing against vampires, but I’d rather not go through the pain of being a neophyte, or whatever these people call it.

“Pardon my crudeness, but isn’t that what happens when you jump in front of a bullet that is not meant for you?” Vlad quips.

“Yeah... That is the stupidest thing I have ever done, can’t argue with that logic,” I mutter, resigned. “By the way, if you’re gonna play with gunpowder inside a tunnel, I’d recommend finding another one that isn’t full of highly flammable methane gas. Just a tip,” I wink.

Our tense exchange is interrupted by a knock on the door frame. Under it stands another man with a boyish smile and shaggy hair.

“I bought those strawberries you- Oh.” He pauses when he sees me, his eyes growing wide in recognition. “Hello there.”

“Are you Charles?” I innocently ask, approaching him. When he nods, I smirk.

There is no warning when I grab his jacket and shoot my knee into his groin at full force. I hear William’s incredulous snort behind me, along with a muffled chuckle belonging to Vlad.

“Argh, putain!” Charles groans, folding over in pain. I observe him as I wait for him to recover. “Why?” he cries from the floor. I simply pull my dress down to reveal the scar on my cleavage. His mouth opens and closes quickly, not knowing what to say.

“Sorry, just had to get that out of my system,” I explain with no trace in my voice of the violence I just displayed. “I’m Anaïs,” I smile, offering my hand. He takes it, and I pull him to his feet. The boyish grin returns to his face as he awkwardly scratches the back of his neck.

“I am so sorry about shooting you, it was an accident. You jumped out of nowhere! I didn’t even want to in the first place, but- Ehem, sorry.”

I follow his gaze when he suddenly interrupts himself with a fake cough. Vlad’s eyes are slightly narrowed in what I can only assume is a look of warning. Okay, something’s going on. Well, yet another thing, on top of the long list of unexplained actions from this strange group of people.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say before the silence becomes awkward, “we’re even now.” I turn to the pureblood and look at him inquisitively. “Anyway, I have a lot of questions. I don’t want to judge until I know exactly what your intentions are for doing whatever it is you’re doing. I have to admit I am finding it hard to keep my emotions under control, so we better get on with it, yeah?”

I do not need to justify my volatile state. Vlad knows perfectly well that he was the one to cause it.

#ikemen vampire #ikevamp #ikevam #ikemen #ikemen fanfiction #ikemen vampire fanfiction #ikevam fanfic #ikevamp fanfiction #ikemen vampire shakespeare #ikevamp shakespeare #ikemen vampire vlad #ikevamp vlad #ikemen vampire charles #ikevamp charles #ikemen vampire faust #ikevamp faust

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crescentmoon223 · 5 years ago

Text

Chicken Soup for Your Soulmate

It started with a cough and ended with a kiss (aka how Mulder cared for Scully when she was sick)

For the @xfilesfanficexchange Fluffy February exchange, I received a prompt from @gaycrouton, asking for “Scully catches a cold, and Mulder takes care of her.” I hope you enjoy it, Nicole! xx

Set during season 7, shortly after Millennium.

Read it on AO3.

Mulder tapped the tail of his tie against his belt, fidgeting with it to occupy his hands—and his concentration—while Scully turned away, covering her mouth to muffle her cough. Overhead, a tinny voice announced a gate change for a flight to Seattle. All around them, people hurried by, suitcases in tow. Another day. Another airport. Another journey back to DC after making a mess of things in the field.

“You okay, Scully?” he asked.

“Fine, Mulder,” she said, but her voice was hoarse.

He looked at her, noting the slight flush of her cheeks and the glossiness in her eyes. Dammit. No wonder she had been so quiet today. She was coming down with something and being her usual stoic, stubborn self. She hadn’t complained when she had cancer, so of course she wouldn’t make a fuss about a head cold. They’d board soon, and he knew from past experience how miserable it was to fly while congested.

He also knew the withering look he’d receive if he tried to dole out medical advice to his favorite medical doctor. Sometimes with Scully, actions were better received than words.

“Be right back,” he told her. “I’m going to stretch my legs before we board.”

She nodded, pulling a book out of her briefcase.

He made a pit stop in the men’s room before heading to the gift shop. He walked to the selection of travel-sized toiletries and medications along the back wall and grabbed a small box of Sudafed before perusing the snacks. Automatically, he snagged a bag of sunflower seeds for himself. Choosing something for Scully was more difficult. What would sound good to her while she was sick but still be healthy enough that she wouldn’t turn her nose up at it?

Of course, he could have just asked her what she wanted, but he’d wanted to surprise her with a thoughtful gesture. It had been weeks now since their New Year’s Eve kiss. Their first kiss. It had altered the dynamic of their partnership in an unspoken way, like an extra file wedged into the already overflowing cabinet in their basement office, once that announced, “You kissed, and you both liked it” in big, red letters.

So far, neither of them had been bold enough to make the next move, or even to address their millennium kiss. But he was thinking about it almost every time he saw her. Hell, he was thinking about it most nights at home alone in his bed. He’d been thinking about kissing her for years.

He’d been thinking about it that night he walked in on her and Eddie Van Blundht about to make out on her couch. She thought it was me. She would have kissed me. He’d been thinking about it that fateful afternoon in the hallway outside his apartment when their lips had been moments from touching before that damned bee stung her and sent him to Antarctica to save her. She would have kissed me then too. He’d sure as hell been thinking about it when he kissed that alternate version of her onboard the Queen Anne back in 1939. Not knowing if he was about to die, his last wish had been to kiss her.

He selected a cup of fat free honey-flavored yogurt. It wasn’t quite the same as her bee pollen, but hopefully she would like it. Honey was supposed to be soothing on a sore throat, wasn’t it? Two bottles of water completed his purchase.

She’d been more reserved with him since their New Year’s Eve kiss, as if she felt the subtle shift in their relationship as acutely as he did and wasn’t quite sure what to do about it. That made two of them. They were nothing if not masters of tiptoeing around their emotions.

He paid for his purchases and walked back to the row of seats where he’d left her. She sat, black blazer unbuttoned to reveal the gray shirt she wore beneath, focused on her book. As he dropped into the seat beside her, she looked over at him, eyebrows lifting slightly as he held the Sudafed, water, and yogurt in her direction.

“Thanks,” she murmured, putting down her book to accept his offerings.

“Didn’t want to listen to you cough all the way home,” he joked, immediately wanting to smack himself on the forehead, because he’d happily listen to her cough if it meant he was beside her.

She rolled her eyes at him as she popped a pill out of the pack and washed it down with a swig of water before opening the yogurt, and he felt smugly pleased about his purchases.

There was a fine line with Scully, not enough or too much. Over the years, he’d tended to walk on the safe side of that line, but lately, he found himself wanting to cross it.

“Got plans this weekend?” he asked, leaning back in the too-small plastic seat and crossing one leg over the other.

“I imagine my weekend will involve a lot of tea and Sudafed,” she said, holding up the package with a wry smile. She sounded even more congested than she had a few minutes ago. Whatever she’d picked up, it was hitting her hard and fast.

“Any interest in a Twilight Zone marathon?” he asked, imagining them sitting together on her couch, watching his favorite show as he brought her tea and wrapped her in a big, soft blanket.

“Pass,” she said.

“Flight 7921 with nonstop service to Washington DC is now boarding from gate two,” the tinny voice overhead announced.

“That’s us, Mulder.” She tucked the bottle of water and Sudafed into her briefcase before standing to throw away the empty yogurt container.

He rose, resting his hand against the small of her back as they walked to their gate, pondering his next move, just how far over that line he wanted to step once they were back home in DC.

* * *

A knock at the door jarred Scully from a restless, feverish sleep. She groaned as she dragged herself upright on the couch, registering the dull ache in her bones, the heavy pressure in her sinuses, the rawness in her throat as she swallowed.

God, she hated being sick. And she definitely did not want to see one of her neighbors right now. Hopefully there wasn’t a medical emergency in the building, because she wasn’t exactly in top form, but such was the life of a doctor.

She stood, tightening the belt of her robe around her waist as she walked to the door. A quick peek through the peephole revealed the only non-neighbor who had access to her building: Mulder. They’d exchanged keys years ago, a necessity in their constantly upended lives.

She unlocked the door and pulled it open. “Mulder, what are you doing here?”

“Brought chicken soup,” he said, holding up a plastic bag. “And a few other things I thought you might like. I can just drop them off and go if you don’t want company.”

She motioned him in, less annoyed than she would have anticipated about him intruding on her sick day. “What other things?”

With that signature Mulder grin, he walked to her kitchen table and emptied the contents of his shopping bags, revealing a large container of soup, a blue bottle of Gatorade, and a package of popsicles, plus some decongestant and cough drops.

She felt a little pinch in her chest that had nothing to do with the germs currently doing war inside her body and everything to do with the man standing in front of her. “Thank you. That was very thoughtful.”

“Want me to warm you up a bowl of soup?”

“Actually, that sounds perfect.” She hadn’t eaten much of anything today, mostly dozing on the couch in a miserable stupor.

He shooed her out of the kitchen. “Go sit down. I’ve got this.”

“Okay,” she acquiesced, too tired to argue. As she walked to the couch, he was already putting the popsicles in her freezer, moving effortlessly around her kitchen, a reminder of just how much time they’d spent together over the years.

She curled up on the couch, tucking her feet into her robe, trying to get warm. When was the last time she’d had someone here to take care of her when she was sick? She couldn’t remember. If pressed, she would have insisted she didn’t want to be taken care of. She was perfectly fine on her own, always had been, always would be.

But then there was Mulder, carrying a steaming bowl of soup into the living room, looking so happy to be useful, and really, where was the harm in letting him fuss over her, just this once?

“Can I get you anything else?” he asked as he set the bowl on the table in front of her.

“No, thank you.” She took another dose of the cold medicine she’d left there before reaching for the bowl of soup. “I notice you didn’t bring your Twilight Zone tapes with you.”

“I can take a hint,” he said, sitting in the chair across from her.

“Occasionally,” she said with a smile. She sipped the soup, savoring the warm broth as it slid over her sore throat. “Mm, that’s good.”

“I’m glad.”

She didn’t ask if he’d made it. She knew it was store bought. That wasn’t the point. He’d given up whatever conspiracy chasing he’d had planned on this sunny Saturday to bring her soup.

They made idle conversation as she ate, and then he brought her empty bowl to the sink. His cell phone rang, and he answered it in the kitchen, talking in hushed tones. Probably the Gunmen or someone else with a lead for him to chase. Her eyelids were getting heavy again. She lay down, pulling the throw blanket over herself. Mulder could show himself out after he got off the phone. As she closed her eyes, she realized she felt a bit better with a belly full of warm soup.

She woke to the sound of the television, the sharp blast of a whistle and the cheer of a crowd. She squinted through bleary eyes to find Mulder kicked back in the chair beside the couch, feet on the coffee table as he stared intently at the TV.

“You’re still here?” she croaked before dissolving in a fit of coughing.

“Got nowhere else to be,” he said, transferring that intense gaze from the football game to her.

She sat up, swiping at her eyes as the coughing eased. Somehow, he managed to look perfectly at home on her blue and white striped chair that was way too small for his oversized, lanky frame. He wore a long-sleeved Jets T-shirt with well-worn jeans, and if he looked handsome in a suit and tie, it had nothing on casual weekend Mulder. She had the irrational urge to curl up in his lap and rest her head on his chest, to feel his heart beating against her cheek and the warmth of his arms around her.

Where had that come from? Shaking her head at herself, she stood and went down the hall to the bathroom. When she made it back to the living room, he had a popsicle in each hand.

“Grape or cherry?” he asked.

“Cherry,” she answered, extending a hand.

He handed her the red popsicle, sitting on the couch beside her to eat them. “Feeling any better?”

“Maybe a little,” she said, although it might have more to do with his presence than a lessening of her symptoms.

“Want me to turn that off?” he asked, waving his popsicle in the direction of the TV.

“No, it’s fine.” She shifted closer to him as she ate, sighing gratefully as the icy treat soothed her throat. When she finished, he took the stick from her and leaned forward, setting it with his on a coaster on the table.

“Need anything else?”

She shook her head, suppressing a smile as he wrapped an arm around her shoulders. Gradually, she relaxed into his embrace, letting her side press against his, warming her through her robe. And then, because she couldn’t quite help herself, she rested her head against his shoulder.

He reached over and tucked a lock of hair behind her ear, an unusually tender expression on his face. “Thanks for letting me stay.”

Her brow wrinkled. That was an odd thing for him to say.

“Been thinking about this a lot,” he said. “You know, since New Year’s Eve.”

Ah, the kiss they’d been dancing around for weeks now. This wasn’t exactly the best time to bring it up, but she doubted he was about to. They were both familiar with the steps to this dance, side stepping the things they didn’t want to address, instead sharing their feelings without words.

“Me too,” she whispered.

And that was that. He sat and watched football as she dozed on his shoulder, relaxed and comfortable, happier than she’d felt in a while, confident that this roundabout dance would eventually bring them together.

It was late when he finally stood to leave. “Want company again tomorrow?”

“Not particularly,” she told him, feeling the twitch of her lips that belied her words.

He clutched his heart in mock affront. “Your loss.”

“Thanks for today,” she said, gripping his hand in hers.

“Anytime, Scully.” His teasing smile faded as his gaze dropped to her lips, and something warm fluttered to life inside her that had nothing to do with her fever.

If she hadn’t been sick, she would have kissed him. She wanted to so badly. But since she ought to keep her germs to herself, she went up on her tiptoes and pressed her lips against his cheek. His hands landed on her waist, and his face turned, bringing their lips together for a sizzling moment before she stepped backward out of his arms.

“Germs,” she whispered, heart racing and a giddy smile on her face.

“Worth the risk.” He winked, backing toward the door. “So, same time tomorrow?”

Her smile widened. “See you tomorrow.”

#XFFluff2020 #fanfic #xf fanfic #MSR #Fluff #Sickfic

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namjoonspiration · 5 years ago

Text

ON [2]

Pairing: Jungkook x reader

Rating: PG-13

Word Count: 2.8k

Summary: You wake up in a new place surrounded by Mages; however, you feel the weight of Jungkook’s absence. In the meantime, you meet some new friends.

Warnings/tags: heartbreak, mentions of violence

Author’s note: Here is Part 2! I know it’s kinda short and I apologize for that, but Chapter 3 is pretty lengthy and I’ll be posting that in a couple days to make up for it :) Enjoy!

Masterlist

Part 2

Year 3049 – 388 years after the Fall of the World

A pungent, salty smell brings you to your senses. Your hands fall flush against rough cotton as you bolt up from your laying position. The hand that was holding the white rock jerks away. You survey the room frantically. A purple-haired young man is holding the salts. And that golden-eyed Mage who you saw at the Citadel was sitting across the room.

The Citadel!

Jungkook! Your screams of desperation ring inside your head.

You look that Mage dead in the eyes and feel your rage drag you to your feet to launch yourself at him. “You! You fucking prick! You left him behind!” You pound against his chest repeatedly and get a few hard slaps against his face.

“Get her to calm down!” He snaps at Purple Hair. You don’t even spare him a glance. You keep getting as many hits as you can on this stupid man.

“You left my Jungkook behind!” Soft, oiled hands wrap around the back of your neck. “You—you could have saved him…” Your muscles become like jelly, losing all their strength. You feel your magic go to sleep. Purple Hair is quick to grab you under your arms and set you back to sitting on the bed. You look at his hands, and the bottle on the table. What is that stuff?

“No, we couldn’t. Trust me, if I had the chance, I would have done it. We went into that raid with the aim of getting every single one of you out. If I had gone back for him, our bodies, along with his and the other Mage kids, would be rotting inside that Citadel at this very moment.” The Mage explained.

“He’s probably already dead.” You protest, your anger melting into sorrow.

“They won’t kill him. They’ll hurt him, but they won’t kill him.”

“Why?” You ask in utter disbelief. “And why are we still here and not out there trying to rescue him?”

“Because your boyfriend had proven with his fight at the end, he’s worth more to them alive then rotting in the ground. Besides that Citadel is now locked tighter than a snake around its prey. There’s no telling when that place will let people in again. I doubt they’ll let their own people out to go on the trade roads again for months.”

“Trade roads?”

“Between the civilizations that are left.” His words surprise you. There are more people out there? The Governing Circle always said growing up that the Citadel was the last surviving place for humans left on Earth.

For humans. But Mages…

“That’s how we knew you guys were in there. I was on those roads when a trader from the Citadel was selling oranges, and for top dollar too. I knew it had to be magic that made those. Oranges haven’t grown in any land since the Old World, and I didn’t think the Mages that were making these were doing so voluntarily. The Citadel has a reputation in the outside world for cruelty and oppression of Mages that enter its walls.”

The story was slowly knitting itself together inside your head. You can’t believe it. Your magic gave them a smoke signal—a cry for help. You were the reason that so many Mages were freed from the Citadel. But it didn’t lift your spirits.

The most important person in your life was still in there.

Wait. “What about my mother? My family? The village?” You rush out. “In the Southeast corner, we all lived in a village with our family and neighbors. Did they get out too?” Your heart beats faster in anticipation.

The Mage raises his eyebrows, “Village?” He thinks about it for several long moments, and then he stiffens, jaw clenching. Finally, at last, he says, “No.”

Your spirit drops even further. “So, they’re still in there too?”

“No. There are no Mages left in the Citadel besides your boyfriend. They were all killed when they took you and all the other children several years ago.”

“What?” Tears prickle at your eyes. “How—how do you know that?”

“We heard about it on the roads, and we investigated it. I even saw their bodies being carted out of the Citadel myself before they buried them in a mass grave about a week’s travel away from the city.” The weight of the loss sits heavy on your chest, making it hard to breath. “The Governing Circle only saw your village as a population problem, and when they had finally picked out what they wanted, they destroyed it. They never planned to free you from your prison or for you to ever see your families again. You would have served, worked, bared children, and died within those walls, with your children and your children’s children to live the same fate.”

“Sir,” Purple Hair speaks out of the blue. “She’s not well, and I don’t think this conversation at the moment is going to help her recover.” His voice is so gentle compared to the gruff of the giant man sitting across from you.

He huffs, “Fine. Please send word when she’s recovered then.” And he leaves without another word.

Purple Hair fiddles with bottles and jars, the clinking and clanking poking at the silence in the room. Then he’s laying a tray of food next to you and gestures towards it. “Please eat as much as you want. I can get more if you don’t feel it’s enough.” You don’t say anything. “My name is Namjoon. I’m the doctor here. I’m human, but I’m not here to hurt you obviously, otherwise I wouldn’t be a doctor,” he laughs nervously. You don’t say anything still. He clears his throat awkwardly. “Sorry. My comedic skills aren’t that great, but I’m a good listener when you want to talk. I’m not just a doctor that takes care of physical wounds. Everyone has emotional wounds, and right now I know you have many. We don’t have to deal with them all today, or even tomorrow, but I’m here to help you heal.” Namjoon pats your shoulder tenderly before getting up to give you some space.

You don’t move for hours, even for days for that matter. You nibble twice at the fresh food and water Namjoon gives you three times a day, but then you stare at nothing. Not thinking, not feeling, not sure what to do. Nothing happens inside Namjoon’s clinic the whole time you’re there for that first week until he gets two new patients.

They walk in. A boy and a blindfolded girl. The boy was much older than the girl, and she couldn’t have been any older than three. He appeared to be about your age with a tall, skinny but somewhat muscled build like how Jungkook was.

Is.

“Please come in. Make yourselves comfortable,” Namjoon gestures to the empty bed across from yours. They tentatively sit down. You’re sitting down yourself, nibbling on a piece of bread. They face you, the boy looking you directly in the eyes, like he’s waiting for you to do something. “Ah, I guess some introductions will help with the… tense atmosphere in this room. This is y/n. Y/n, this is Taehyung and his little sister.”

It really didn’t help with the tension at all.

“Okay, never mind,” Namjoon mutters. “I’ll just take her to the other room to treat her injuries and check for any broken bones and infections,” he lays a gentle hand on the little girl’s wrist to lead her. Taehyung is quick to grab Namjoon’s arm that’s holding his sister, warning flaring bright in his black eyes. “It’s alright. I’m not taking her from you. I’m going to help her,” Namjoon speaks with an open and honest tone. Trust.

Taehyung considers his words for a few long moments before letting go. The little girl hops down, and Namjoon places a hand on her back to guide her. Just before they are out of the room, Taehyung warns, “Don’t take her blindfold off. It must never come off.” His tone sent chills down her spine. Namjoon nodded wordlessly.Once they were gone, you and Taehyung returned to your staring contest. It was hard to get a complete read on him, but you could tell he’s been through hell.

“What’s with the blindfold?” You ask after several minutes of silence.

“None of your business.”

“Why does she need it?” You cast another line.

He doesn’t bite. Instead, he fires back with another question, “Where are you from?”

“The Citadel.” There was no point in being mysterious.

“Shit. No wonder you look like hell.”

“I could say the same thing about you. You want to tell me what that black scar on your shoulder is about?” You eye the part of his skin where his oversized long sleeve has fallen to exposure the portion where his neck meets his shoulder. He quickly tugs his shirt back into place, scowling at you. “Are you a Mage?”

“Yes. Are you?”

“Yes.”

“How did you get here?”

“I was rescued with several other Mages I grew up with. I’ve been here about a week. Although, one of us got left behind,” you mutter bitterly.

Taehyung doesn’t bother to prod further in your last comment. “My sister and I, we’re from a Mage colony from the West.”

The West. You knew what that mean.

That’s where the darkness travel from, swallowing civilizations whole, scorching the lands and poisoning the waters.

Taehyung and his sister must have escaped from it. And from the looks of it, it didn’t seem that they did so with much ease and that they were the only ones who made it out alive.

“Must have been pretty bad out there,” you say.

He nods slowly. “Yeah, it was. I can imagine the Citadel isn’t a picnic either.”

You shake your head. Silence befalls both of your again, but the tension in the room is definitely gone at this point. Now it’s just you and Taehyung, sitting in Namjoon’s clinic with bleeding internal wounds.

He was just like you in a way. Hurt in several ways, seemingly lost, not knowing how he ended up here. The first person you’ve seen in days that wasn’t so interested in how you were faring and when you might recover so they could interrogate about your life in the Citadel.

You hold your uneaten bread out to Taehyung in a gesture of respect and understanding. He searches your face and seems to know what you’re offering him beyond just a chunk of bread. Thankfully, he accepts the bread from you and begins to eat.

…

It takes another week for you to walk out of Namjoon’s clinic, feeling less numb than you had when you first arrived at the Mages’ camp. There were so many other Mages here. You almost couldn’t believe that so many have survived after hundreds of years when you thought at one point your village was the last one left. It was overwhelming at first trying to settle in. You struggled with sharing a hut with other girls your age, who were happy and moving about their normal days. You just didn’t fit in. You returned to Namjoon’s clinic in the middle of the night the first day out, and he offered the spare room in his clinic to stay in if it meant you’d get some sleep. You were truly grateful for his kindness. It also allowed him to keep an eye on you and to monitor your progress.

After your first meeting with Taehyung, Namjoon noticed an improvement in your interactions with your surrounding environment, so he thought it would be a good idea to have you two have some level of interaction every day.

At first, you and Taehyung were somewhat reluctant to listen to him, but after you both realized this would be a chance for you to share with each other about the hell you’ve both been through and to commiserate with each other.

So, you did for hours every day. You would tell Taehyung about life in the Citadel, and he would tell you about what it’s like running from a faceless darkness, that never gets tired, for his whole life he’s lived in the West. Before he and his sister got here, they’d been traveling for months non-stop. Their camp got too close to the darkness one night, and they were attacked by whatever unspeakable horrors were inside it. Their parents sacrificed themselves to save Taehyung and his sister and died a grisly death. However, in their process of escape, Taehyung was attacked by the darkness. It had entered his body, leaving him in constant pain. But he couldn’t stop running and fighting to get away because he had his sister to protect. Thankfully, they stumbled across some Mages from this settlement.

Namjoon didn’t even though what to do about the darkness in Taehyung, which had manifested itself in the form of a living scar on his shoulder. Namjoon didn’t want to try to cut it out from him for fears that he might upset the living darkness and put Taehyung in more pain. It hadn’t mattered to Taehyung anyway. He could barely feel its presence there anymore.

One evening, he finally tells you about his sister.

“She’s a Seer.” Your mother had mentioned them in the bedtime stories she told you. You thought Seers only existed in Mage Folklore. It made sense why Taehyung insisted the blindfold be kept on. Seers constantly see visions of the past, present and future, so to see all that along with the world in front of her, she wouldn’t be able function properly. The overload of information could even kill her, and she might lose her Sight. “Besides, if she keeps that blindfold on, she doesn’t have to see how far this world’s fallen into shit. I can keep her from witnessing firsthand the pain and hell of this world if that blindfold stays on. I won’t ever let her take it off until we’re in a better, happier place.”

You didn’t have your first interaction with his sister until she was almost six years old. You had traveled with her and Taehyung out to a nearby wooded area—a very rare sight—to collect herbs Namjoon needed to make medicines. You’d been examining a cluster of leaves and flowers near a pond when you see them.

Lilies.

Jungkook’s face fills your thoughts. All his sweet words and caring heart. The love you gave each other the few months you had together after you first kissed.

It broke your heart to think about it. Three years… It has been nearly three years since you’ve arrived at the Mages camp. You’d asked that silver-haired warrior every time you saw him when the Citadel would open and when you can rescue Jungkook. His answer: I don’t know. Maybe soon.

As if she heard your distressed thoughts, Tae’s sister placed her small hand on yours. “Let go of your heartache, y/n. He’s where he needs to be right now.” Her voice sounded nothing like a six-year-old’s. She sounded ancient, like she’s been alive for thousands of years. You knew she was telling you the truth, and you can’t lie, it was hard to swallow. But you wouldn’t just sit idly by, waiting for that warrior oaf to bring you news of the Citadel.

No.

Instead, you took action. You learned from the experienced Mages in the camp how to do offensive and defensive magic. No longer would you just know how to make plants grow. Now you would learn how to fight back.

You convinced the merchants to let you join them on their travels through the trade roads after persuading Namjoon for some medicines to trade for promise of bringing back rare items he needed. It took more time than you would have liked, but one day you finally heard news on the Citadel.

They’ve strengthened their numbers again since the attack, and apparently, they’re bragging about some secret weapon they have. You know what I say? What a load of bullshit. I’ve heard from some traders who have direct contact with the Governing Circle that their weapon is nothing more than a Mage boy with some spitfire in his soul. Weapon? Pish. What can a single Mage do against other angry Mages, much less against the darkness that continues to blacken the soil.

Jungkook. He was still alive. That brought you hope that there might still be one day you’d see him again.

But that’s not all I’ve heard. There’s a war on the horizon, and whoever is left on this Godforsaken Earth needs to be prepared.

#bts #bts fanfic #bts fanfiction #jungkook x reader #reader x jungkook #kim taehyung #taehyung #on #ON music video #tae's sister #fantasy #storyline #namjoon #kim namjoon

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tigereyes45 · 4 years ago

Note

RWBY request: Blacksun leaves Ruby to babysit for them, but discover that she brought Zwei with her. Blake’s less than enthused to find the Barking Bane of Beacon snuggled up with her baby. Ruby and Sun just think it’s cute!

Here’s your requests anon! Please no hate because of the ship everyone! This was a request and I’m currently still accepting them. I’ll write for almost any ship since I enjoy most of the ones in the fandom. So if you don’t enjoy Blacksun feel free to request something else! (Or you know just avoid this post.) I am still accepting them at the moment!

Ao3 link is here: https://archiveofourown.org/users/tigereyes45

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It was well past eleven am when Ruby finally arrives. Anxiously Blake had been pacing around Melanie's playpen for the last hour. Sun watched her go again and again around the fenced-in area from his spot on the couch. They had gotten lunch reservations at a new restaurant in town. Not only was it difficult finding any stores near them, but ever since they moved to Patch to be closer to the rest of the team it was hard to get any time to themselves. A fact that had gotten worst with her taking some time away from hunting. Midday was really the only time of the day Blake could stand to be away from Melanie for a few hours. Ever since little Melanie finally recovered from that persistent fever. It's been two months. Yet Blake was still so fiercely protective. This lunch was just as likely to be canceled as Ruby was to show up. Neither thought helped to keep Sun from bouncing his legs.

Melanie played blissfully unaware that anything was wrong. Her playpen area took up the back half of the living room. All the way from the glass back door, ending right between the black couch and white loveseat. Sun smiled. He had always been better at hiding his nerves. Though when he couldn't they were far more expressive on his face then Blake's.

When the bell rang Blake's feet finally stopped. His legs freeze. Before either parent could make it to the door, Ruby lets herself in. She greets them. Her signature nervous smile pinned to her face. The twenty-six-year-old was sweating profusely. Black bangs hang down over the right side of her face. The red-streaked strands swept off to the sides of her messy head. Clearly she had used her semblance more than once on the way over.

"What happened?" Blake rounds on her team leader almost as quickly as she had stopped mid-step. Ruby throws her hands up.

"Nothing. Nothing happened. Your living room looks great Blake. I, uh," long black hair falls in front of silver eyes. The perfect camouflage as the younger woman searches the room. Eventually, her grip tightens around the bag she brought along. "I made cookies!"

Scrambling, Ruby digs through her bag. Deep down, under the diapers, wipes, the bottles, and extra pack of formula she frees a bag of squished chocolate chip cookies. Blake frowns. Her black ears fold flat against her head. Nose twitching, her amber eyes stop narrowing.

"You overslept. Again."

"Now now Blake. I promised you I would set my alarms. And I did. Ergo I didn't oversleep. I lost track of time cooking," the shorter woman shoves the bag into Sun's hands. "the cookies. You'd be surprised how long this new recipe takes." With a quick push, Ruby is out from between Blake and the door. The Faunus barely gets a sigh out. Sun's hands gently knead the back of her shoulders. A soft smile and Ruby knows she's gotten away with her obvious lie this time.

"Ru! Ru!" Melanie's short, dark black curls cling to her face. Her skin was already becoming darker like her father's. Though not as dark as her long black tail. Sun insists it looks like his, but Blake seemed to believe it resembles a cat's more. Long and slender it sways back and forth with excitement as she sees Ruby. Small, fat hands grab at the air. With determination, they go again and again. Every hand just trying to pulls the space between them shorter. She was about to Ruby's knee when standing straight up. That had to be about three inches since her last visit. A few inches within a couple of weeks, was that normal? The huntress resigns to asking her father later. She dreads the thought that this baby girl would be yet another person taller than herself.

She pulls her long scarlet cloak off. It swishes past Melanie, like the curtains do when she plays in them. The three-year-old giggles. Red encircles the young Belladonna. The long fabric swallows the baby girl up whole. The outline of hands pats against the cloth a few times. Ruby smiles down at her goddaughter from the hole of the hood.

"Ruby you're gonna make her dizzy."

"Oh, sorry Blake." The shorter woman spins the cloak up and into a ball. Melanie's laughter stops. She looks around confused. Her big blue eyes narrow in on Ruby's hands. They stay trained there. Nothing could make them waiver from their target. Not even her parents picking her up and kissing her chubby cheeks goodbye could move them. They were like a pair of blue bullets, focused, and moving forward before Ruby had a chance to pull the cloak away. She all but hands it back to the toddler as she leans out of her parent's grasp, right at Ruby.

"Gotcha!" The twenty-six-year-old babysit did indeed have her. Though she also had the ire of her mother. Honestly, there were a lot of new expressions Ruby was starting to see from Blake. A whole array she had never used in the field before. The leader couldn't help but wonder if those were a part of the changes her dad had warned her of.

"Just be careful." Exhaustion. That was a voice of pure fatigue. Yang's tired voice was usually grouchier. So in a way, Ruby was lucky. Just not as lucky as she would have been if she hadn't broken her alarm yesterday.

"I'm always careful!" Well, she always tried to be. It was pretty much the same thing. No point in crossing hairs over the small stuff now.

"Thanks Rubes." Sun squeezes Blake's shoulders. "We really appreciate this. Our reservation starts soon though so we should really be going." That last part was more for Blake then her. Nodding gingerly Ruby shifts Melanie out of her arms and onto her hip.

"You guys go. Have fun. I've got this!" Ruby flexes her free arm. Melanie waves her arms wildly. Ruby holds her smile even as they hit her shoulder. Still, that anxious look never left Blake. Not even as they walked out the door. She casts one last look back before Sun shuts the door. Running over to the window Ruby watches them leave. Melanie waves goodbye as her parents walk off.

Blake's whole demeanor changes as they walk away. Slowly and visibly the tenseness in her shoulders shrinks. She stands taller. Her smile isn't nervous. With every step away she looks more like she had before Melanie had gotten sick. Happy. Not afraid of anything. Ruby holds Melanie closer to her. Just a few months ago they weren't sure if she would recover. What had started out as just a fever became so much worst, so quickly. Blake stopped going out on missions. Sun started selling his keepsakes from old missions. Anything to save up enough if for the travel. Their doctor insisted it would pass, but Ruby had seen it. She looked so sick. It looked like she had jaundice the way her skin had shifted to yellowish tints. All her energy was gone constantly, and it was hard for anyone to get her to eat.

They had all been so scared that Ruby can't really hold all this newfound protectiveness against Blake. Even if everyone thought it was overkill, they understood. Really the rest of team RWBY and SSUN was shocked that Sun wasn't also acting somewhat overprotective as well. He shrugged off those months of fear and nervousness as if it were nothing.

'She's better now!' He insists anytime someone tries to bring it up. He was right. She was better now, but there's something in the way he was so easily able to blow everyone off. In a matter of days, he had effectively cut ties with everyone. Not in his usual way of going off without saying anything either. He wasn't talking to anyone. Wasn't reaching out and couldn't be reached. When they came around either Sun had Melanie in his arms or the two of them couldn't be found. Blake knew where they would go, but the family never told anyone.

'He needs some space. Melanie's safe and with him.' She assured Yang and herself once when they had brought some leftovers by.

"Ru!" Ruby's head shoots down. Melanie was squirming in her arms. Her eyes were squeezed shut as she pushes on Ruby's side. "Let go!" The huntress realizes that she had been squishing the young girl against her.

"Ah, Aunt Ruby is sorry Melanie. She didn't realize." Quickly she sets her down. Kneeling on one knee Ruby keeps her hands out. They hover a few inches away from either side of Melanie. Ready to catch her if the toddler starts to fall again. She had been walking for two years now. Her clumsiness wouldn't know it though. She fell on her butt just as often as she actually stands. Maybe clumsiness was a learned trait? It certainly felt like Melanie shared a lot of traits with Ruby. They both had dark black hair. Though Melanie's was curly like her father, and a shade closer to her mother's. They were both really clumsy, and-

" 's fine Ru. We ate cookies?"

Ruby laughs. Gently she pokes Melanie's cheeks. "Yes, we can eat the cookies now." Ruby lets Melanie follow her over towards the table Blake had set her bag on. The cookies sit beside it in their open bag.

"Wanna know what the best thing about Aunt Ruby's cookies are?"

"Wat?" She screams the word as if that was the only way she could get an answer. Melanie was going to be loud like her dad. No doubt about it.

"There's always more!" Ruby cheers pulling out a full jar. It's heavier then it had been earlier. Suspicious she looks down to see the jar had no cookies. In fact it was filled with black fur. Strands of white hair stand out here and there. Of course he couldn't have just let her leave. Zwei has found quite a knack for following her out of the house lately. Blake was going to be pissed. Letting out a heavy sigh, Ruby pops the top off the jar. There's the sound of scrapping nails against glass. Then just like that, Zwei pushes himself free. With a loud pop, his head falls out of the jar.

Somehow Melanie manages to catch the old dog. Right in her arms, he landed. The two of them go down together. Melanie's hands never letting go of Zwei. His cheerful yip sounds raspy. Ruby frowns. She hadn't brought his medication with her. At least Blake and Sun would only be gone for a couple of hours. That wasn't too long, and she could just give it to him after.

As soon as he was in her hands Melanie was running off with him. Practically hopping back onto her feet as she holds him closer to her. Zwei yips cheerfully. The two dash through the living room cheering and barking. Ruby rushes after them. Mustering all her speed the dignified huntress was turned into a storm of limbs. Her hands and feet darting every which way after the tornado that was Melanie with Zwei.

It was a constant battle, keeping the house clean after the two of them. Suddenly Ruby could recall every reason she had for not bringing Zwei over anymore. Blake's disdain for the dog being the lowest on the list after this current shit show. It takes the better half of two hours before the dastardly dup was done. Their chaotic messy energy began to die down when Melanie tripped over Zwei. From there all their teamwork only went downhill. A plane crashing and burning right into Ruby's arms. They land on the couch tired and ready for a nap. Instinctually Melanie reaches out for Zwei. She finds the dog resting next to her. Of course, she pulls him closer.

It was an adorable sight! Melanie's tail curls around Zwei's stomach. The old dog wiggles closer her chest. He was so comfortable on his back with Melanie's arms tucked under his head and around his chest beside her tail. She coos a little as her beautiful blue eyes slowly drift close. The pair of them were just so cute and warm Ruby couldn't help herself but curl up on the couch with them. Carefully she adjusts her shoulder under her head and gently lifts Melanie's head up to rest on her wrist. Zwei whines. He quickly quiets down as he realizing it was just Ruby joining them for a nap. It didn't take long for the three to all drift off.

Ruby's peaceful dreams were interrupted by a soft touch. A nudge that grew intensity the longer she kept her eyes closed. Begrudgingly the red-clad woman opens her eyes. The soft hand that had been shaking her was indeed one she knew. Blake's ears were standing at attention. Turned slightly towards the two small bodies Ruby could feel against her side. Sunlight filters in from a window somewhere in the room. They must've finished lunch already.

"Oh hey, Blake. How was lunch?"

"It was great! Thanks Ruby!" Sun answers in a hushed whisper from somewhere towards her left.

"It was nice. Thank you for babysitting, but Ruby," Blake stops and looks at the two still sleeping forms. "What is he doing here?"

"Huh?" Slowly Ruby pulls her arm free from under Melanie's head. He? Rubbing at her eyes she sits up. There, sound asleep on his back was Zwei. "Ah him. He snuck into my cookie jar."

"And you couldn't send him home?" Blake asks. Ruby notices that she was hovering above her daughter, but the rest of her body was leaning away. The awkward pose an obvious attempt to try and keep some distance between her and Zwei.

"Blake my house is a few miles away from here. I'm not making him do that trip on his own. He's old now." She pokes his little black nose that now had little white spots freckled on it. "He can't even keep up with Melanie let alone try and run home alone."

"Fine. Fine. Can you take him home then?" Blake asks taking a few steps back.

"Yeah sure. Though I think Sun might be right. Melanie doesn't have any problems with Zwei. Maybe she's a monkey faunus."

"Thanks Ruby, but Blake doesn't like Zwei because she's a cat. She's just a weirdo." Sun adds crossing his arms over his chest. Blake shoots him a glare. but her ears fold down. Obviously she was more insulted by the joke then actually bothered.

Time to change the subject. "Aw they look cute together! All snuggled up like that." Ruby grabs her left wrist. "I want to pinch them! Must. Fight. The. Urge." She makes a show of her hand inching forward before being pulled back with every word. "Just. Sooooo cute."

Blake rounds on her with a glare. "You wake Melanie up and I'll ask Weiss to babysit from now on."

Ruby gasps. She holds her hands over her chest as if Blake had just broken her heart. "You wouldn't dare!"

Blake just gives her a look that screams, 'try me'. Something Ruby honestly was too tired to do now. Dejected Ruby sticks her tongue out in one last act of defiance. Sun smiles from over Blake's shoulder. He winks and holds up his scroll. A picture of Zwei and Melanie cuddling fills the screen. Ruby mouths, 'send me that'. Sun nods and hides his scroll as Blake turns around. The monkey faunus smiles innocently as she looks him over.

"Well I doubt I can grab him without waking her up." Ruby mentions, rocking back and forth on her tiptoes. Blake frowns as she looks back at the two. Melanie's tail was wrapped so tightly around Zwei, that it probably would be near impossible. Just another time she wishes she could make her shadows take the forms of others as well as herself. If she could then it wouldn't even be a problem.

"Might as well let them finish sleeping." Sun suggests shrugging. Ruby watches him drops his scroll into his front pocket. They share their sly smiles. Blake shivers at the thought of letting Zwei stay sleeping on her couch. "Come on Rubes. Have you seen the latest episodes of Arena Battles?"

"Nope!"

Sun loops an arm around Blake's waist. "Let them sleep. Ruby can take Zwei as soon as Melanie's naps over."

"Fine."

"Great! Rubes the remote is on the other side of the couch." He pulls Blake along with him. The two fall into the white loveseat together. Blake tucks her arms under Sun's arms. He buries his legs under her's. It was adorable, and gross. Adorably gross.

"Quit staring and start the show Ruby."

"I am! I was just thinking." She rolls her eyes. It was nice seeing the two comfortable around each other again. Maybe things could return to something resembling normal. Carefully Ruby sits on the couch next to the sleeping duo. There was never any telling with the future. She pushes her back deeper within the cushions. At least they could all enjoy this right now.

#rwby #blacksun #sun wukong #blake belladonna #oc #melanie belladonna #it fits Blake's and Kali's naming pattern #rwby blake #rwby sun #rwby ruby #ruby #ruby rose #zwei #fanfic #fanfiction

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