#worrywart & old bones | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

writer-darling · 1 year ago

Text

About You

Rating: G (General Audiences)

Pairing: Jack Russell (Werewolf by Night, 2022) x GN!Reader

Warnings: ANGST. Hurt/comfort. Mentions of injuries and bruises. More-than-friends-but-not-a-couple trope. Mutual pining. Coziness. If there are any that I missed, please inbox me to let me know and I will add them in :)

Word Count: 2k

Summary!: Based on the song by The 1975. Jack always responded to letters. Always. What happens the one time he doesn't?

******

Early morning train rides are always a gamble. Sometimes, they were peaceful. You could easily slip into a quick nap with how smooth the ride could be on those days. Sometimes, it was chaos. If it was riddled with teenage students who commuted to the nearest high school, it could easily be an hour’s worth of hell. But today was thankfully not one of those days. As the morning drizzle drips down the windows, the train seems to be in a world of its own. You’re tempted to take another one of those naps but honestly, the worry in your bones is keeping you from doing so. You glance around at the other passengers for a moment in an attempt to soothe your nerves.

The train is sparsely-packed today. A couple of girls sit a few rows away, college-age. They sit and smile at their phones, laughing quietly amongst themselves. The shorter girl with her hair in a ponytail tilts her phone screen towards her friend, who laughs and suddenly blushes, making her look so much younger.

A man in a brown suit sits on the other side of the aisle from you, also in a window seat. He has a pair of earbuds on and his laptop is open on one of the train’s small tray carts as he talks in hushed tones to the screen in front of him. Likely some sort of business meeting from the seriousness of his tone and the furrow of his brow. A black suitcase sits next to him on the unoccupied seat beside him.

Another glance around shows you an elderly couple that sit beside each other at the very back of the cart. The two old ladies hold hands tightly as the blonder one of the two rests her head against the shoulder of her companion.

That last image makes you smile a little. But all too soon your thoughts go back to Jack.

You usually aren’t much of a worrywart these days, but Jack’s uncharacterisitic lack of correspondence has quickly changed that. You’re not exaggerating when you say Jack is an immediate responder. To texts, to calls, to letters even. His letters almost always get back to you within 1-2 days' time. The longest he’d gone without getting back a letter was a couple of weeks and that’s because his response had gotten lost and arrived later than he had assured you. Now, his last correspondence has been almost two months. Not to mention his last phone call or text had been a week or so before that.

When you’d reached out to his mom, she had voiced similar concerns, though there was something in her voice that sounded much less worried than you felt.

“I’m sure he’s alright.” She’d said. “He’s likely just busy.” She’d said.

Still, it’s done little to reassure you. There was just something in your gut that told you something was very, very wrong. You were almost tempted to file a Missing Person’s report, but when you’d voiced that idea to Jack’s mom, she had assured you that she would do it herself. Yet, it’s been weeks since then and no police have reached out to you at all.

Which makes you think that, hey if she’s not too concerned, why should you be, right? After all, other than Jack’s mom, you’re his closest loved one. You know that like you know the Earth revolves around the Sun. So then, what is going on? You sit there in the train’s window seat, watching the blur of the forest pass you by as the train makes its way into town. The City Limits sign greets you in another green and white blur. Why hasn’t he written back?

Suddenly, an awful, gut-wrenching thought hits you:

Maybe he’s forgotten about you. Not literally, of course. But maybe, just maybe, he’s finally let go of that friendship you both have cherished so much. Maybe he no longer cherishes it the way you do. The thought tastes like bitterness in the back of your throat and you don’t realize you’re crying until you glance down at your open notebook and see the tears staining the blank page. That must be it. If his mother isn’t worried… if he hasn’t made any effort to reach out… then maybe… maybe he just doesn’t want to. Your heart squeezes painfully in your chest and suddenly, your pen is flying across the page, more tears staining and blurring the ink in some spots as you write.

You express your sorrows onto the page, and one page becomes two, then five. Possibly your longest letter to Jack yet. In 40-plus years of friendship, this is your longest and possibly most depressing letter yet. You’re still crying when you disembark into town and walk to the nearest post box. You slip the now-enveloped letter into the blue box and try your best to get a grip as you make the trek to your job now, opening up your umbrella as the drizzle starts to become a hard downpour.

Jack’s body ached like he’d been hit by several trains as he stumbled back onto the property, his body still recovering from last night’s transformation. His clothes were practically torn to shreds as he walked over to the mailbox, limping slightly. His body was near-entirely black and blue from so many bruises, but he’s not too concerned about that. Two months had somehow flown by as he’d been tracking monsters and creatures all over the country. Another rescue mission for Ted last-minute had stolen every ounce of his attention for the last three weeks. He’d been completely unaware of the passage of time.

Until he saw the letters.

He knew it had been some time since he’d last responded but had it really been so long? It must’ve been. Given the five unopened envelopes sitting in his mailbox. It had made him smile to see so many of your letters greeting him home. Like the warmest hug he could ever hope for, only second to the real thing, of course. Until he opened them…

“I miss you on the train, I miss you in the morning… please write back soon…” Jack’s eyes immediately filled with tears as he finished the last of your many unanswered letters, his heart squeezing painfully in his chest. His fingers ran over every tear stain, every smudged letter, and finally on your rushed signature at the bottom of the page. He grabbed his phone from his desk drawer and finally turned it back on. An influx of messages and missed calls greeted him. All from you. How could he have been so careless?

His eyes scan over the notification banners of every message, each one sounding more and more saddened than the last. He’d missed you, of course he’d missed you. He always missed you. But these last few missions in particular had left him little time to breathe let alone think about anything other than what had been directly in front of him. He had been surrounded by different terrains and different creatures for so many nights. One of those times in his life where he’d been forced to be more monster than man, simply for survival’s sake. Thankfully Ted had kept him somewhat sane. So, when the ManThing had gone missing once again, he’d been pulled back into the Wolf’s mentality in order to save them both.

As he read the last message he knew what he had to do immediately.

“Ay no. No, no, no, no.” He didn’t even bother to pack a bag, booking the quickest flight he could as he left the house only after a quick change of his clothing.

He had to make this right.

You’re in bed, your mind still on Jack and the letters. It’s late in the day and the last twenty-four hours since you sent the last letter have been somehow harder than the last two months combined. Bleary-eyed, you grab your phone and open it up. Still no call-back, and your messages haven’t even been read by Jack yet. You decide to send one more text. Just one more.

“Have you forgotten about me?”

You expected maybe a text. Or a call. What you don’t expect is an urgent knocking on your door only moments later. Your heart skips a beat and you almost run to the door, your mind telling you it's impossible even as you yank it open and take in the sight before you.

“Jack?” He’s out of breath, his hair hanging in his face as he pants, leaning himself against the doorway. You only barely notice the taxi that dropped him off leaving your driveway a moment later. “H-How-?”

“How could you?” He asks, and he sounds wounded. You’re at a loss for words, relieved that he’s here but confused as to how he got here. All you can do is take in his appearance. He looks tired, he looks worn down. His eyes have the deepest shadows you’ve ever seen on him and his scruff is the most grown out he’s ever had it. But all your mind can think is: heshereheshereheshere. You don’t realize he’s speaking again until he bends down slightly to meet your eyes.

“Do you think I’ve forgotten about you??” He demands, upset, but not angry. His voice is a grave, intense whisper and the pain in his eyes makes the hazel in his eyes burn like molten amber. Pure incredulous disbelief paints his features and you can’t respond for a full minute.

“You… You didn’t answer my letter. My messages, my calls… You always answer my letters.” You mumble in response, your voice almost detached as your mind just can’t register the fact that he’s standing right in front of you. He slumps for a moment, nodding, before stepping towards you and sweeping you up into his arms. You both embrace each other tightly and despite the restriction, you find yourself able to breathe in what feels like ages. He’s safe, he’s warm, he’s here. Your eyes close as you melt into him, feeling one of his hands cradle the back of your hair, while the other rubs your back. You’re both silent, just breathing together and reveling in the fact that you’ve reunited. You pull away after a moment, just to look at him again. Your eyes dart all over him as you soak in as much of his appearance as you can.

“I was away. I wasn’t home. I felt my phone. I-I’m sorry.” The words stumble out of his mouth quickly as he makes you meet his eyes. Your gaze locks on his for a moment as you try to catch your breath, your mind still lightly spinning.

“I thought you forgot about me.” Your voice is almost timid as you speak and you see something in his eyes change. A fierce shift of protection you rarely ever see in Jack. He hugs you again, even tighter this time and the two of you don’t speak for a long moment as he holds you close to him. His scent permeates your senses and you breathe in deeply, your eyes closing as you bask in his warmth.

“Ni lo pienses.” His voice is a low mutter into your hair as he rubs your spine gently with his palm, his touch comforting and reaffirming his presence. You let out a shuddering breath that’s almost a laugh as you melt into him further and he melts right back. Both of you somehow keep each other upright as you hug one another so tightly you’re almost sure you’ll have bruises in the morning. But that’s the last thing on your mind right now. You pull away to bring him into the house, getting both of you out of the chill and the rain into the warmth of your house. You both feel like thousand-pound weights have been removed from your chests.

He’s here... and he's not going anywhere.

******

I really need to write more Jack stories. He brings me so much comfort, I can't explain it.

Jack Russell TagList: @jedi-in-crocs @kayleezra @amandanik23 @mandy-sings

Links!

Join the Tag List here

Ao3 link here

TikTok here

#gael garcia bernal #werewolf by night #marvel #gael garcia bernal x gender neutral reader #gael garcia bernal x you #jack russell x gender neutral reader #jack russell x you #my werewolf's keeper au #crossposted on ao3 #writer-darling

18 notes · View notes

jeanstapleton · 9 months ago

Note

I wanted to ask you something, reading your posts, I really liked what you say about Munch, I wanted to ask you some curiosities about them that you have in mind - Ex: What do they like to do in their spare time? What hobbies do you think they would develop? Would they be the type to go on family outings with Dot and Scotty? What do you think? I loved your headcanons about them, Munch could go to a therapist, to better deal with themselves and their surroundings :D How do you imagine them adapting to technology? Using mobile phones ? Learning to use computers ?

Imagine Munch trying to understand Scotty playing video games lmao 🤣

ahh i love these questions thank you 🥹 answers under the cut:

munch is 110% a bookworm. reads quickly but voraciously, no preference between fiction & nonfiction, but you will see him more often with the latter.

for more hands-on hobbies, probably knitting at first. he clearly knew how to sew before meeting the lyons so this just gives him an outlet completely divorced from survival techniques. he gets super blushy & smiley when he completes his first sweater for scotty.

i think he'd love to go on family outings, but depending on where they're going, it'd be tough for him to illustrate his boundaries & fears. im thinking more along the lines of county fairs, amusement parks, farmers' markets, & basically anything with huge volumes of people combined with constant noise. i dont think he'd be one for amusement park rides at all, but thats ok bc i totally see dot as the one who goes with scotty on everything, while he & wayne wait behind like the worrywarts they are. i think he'd be good at the carnival games, though. like if scotty wants a big teddy bear he'll be like "ugh fine" & then john wick his way through the shooting games. im not sure about others where he'd be the complete center of attention, like the strength mallet thing, even though he'd get a ridiculous score since i think he's a lot stronger than he looks.

one of the first things dot gets him to help him adjust is noise-cancelling earplugs, which are especially necessary since munch doesn't react well to music or electronic visual media so irt scotty playing video games i dont think he'd have any idea what he's looking at. if he finds the willpower to sit through a movie, subtitles are an absolute must, & even then i think he can only handle old movies for a while since they aren't as demanding on the senses as contemporary cinema.

i dont think munch would go to a therapist, or that the lyons would want him to anyway, being that his bond with dot is bone-deep and, for lack of a better term, supernatural. modern medicine is just not equipped to handle a 500 year old living body that's presumably developed immunities/resistances well beyond the limits of a normal human. dot & munch learn to heal while in each other's company simply because they are the only other person on earth like the other. obviously dot is not a sin vampire but its my headcanon that she & munch share a strong psychic bond, too.

aside from the basics he learned as a hitman (operating vehicles, using phones), i dont see modern technology having any place in munch's life. its not that he can't learn how to use it, but he doesn't see how it would add or subtract anything to the way he lives. i think at most he'd have like a basic smartphone to keep in contact with the lyons, but its strictly a phone & not a multimedia platform.

#💌#fargo fx #ole munch #also btw i use he/him loosely! just saying bc i see you use they/them

7 notes · View notes

flockrest · 1 year ago

Text

ordinary monsters / accepting / @gloryseized ( Link )

The stars-damned thing is, it'd been his idea.

With his health improved to an extent where not even the flock's healer or apothecary could honestly say anything against him finally picking up his bow again, Revali returned to aerial archery with the alacrity of someone starved to near death of it. Working to realign his skill with his ken was fulfilling, if also frustrating — in no small part due to those same worrywarts. They couldn't convince him to allow his abilities to languish any longer, but they could certainly convince any willing warrior to decline his requests for bouts with the maddening supposition that he had anything left to recover from.

Well, any willing Rito warrior.

He dives at Link, anticipating the shield that rises to meet his talons and rebounding off it with a force that carries him back to the skies and shoves his rival into a stagger. Revali's behind him now, in prime position to strike when he's exposed and busy steadying himself. As he nocks a trio of arrows and aims, the thought flits into place with the lightness of a passing breeze, tinged with a satisfaction found only in the flow of battle — even with the stakes as low as a spar's: he can't miss.

Then it lingers.

He can't miss.

A sudden desperation sprouts in his chest, in tandem with the burning that flares in his left side where lesions old-and-new lay. His breath snags somewhere in the depths of his lungs, his heart — already quickened by exertion — pounding a nigh agonised rhythm as the Windlines tear out from his grasp. Faced with the abrupt dread that he's stalled for too long; a certainty he feels in his bones that he's going to be shot down any second now; a memory his body, for all its age, can't forget despite his efforts in restoring it to this point, in building up the strength to simply draw his own bow again, despite everything—

He doesn't miss — only because he doesn't fire.

He has the wherewithal, at least, to ensure he doesn't fall flat on his tailfeathers ( or worse, his beak ). But the damage to his pride is done: as soon as he lands, hunched and left leg threatening to buckle completely as though still rent from wounds dealt a century ago, Link is approaching with an expression he wishes he couldn't see.

"Unless," Revali grits out, remiges still clenched around a strung bow. He latches onto the indignation of being pitied, forcing words where his breaths continue to elude him, "you're coming to strike me down, step no closer."

In another time, something like that might've been enough to have the Hylian withdrawing. Here, it merely keeps him at bay. It does not stop Link from sheathing his equipment or poising his hands to speak, and Revali — in a move he immediately feels a sharp sting of regret for — turns his head away with shut eyes. It's horrifyingly juvenile.

He pushes through an inhale, then another, before he's blinking his eyes back open and slowly straightening. The weight of humiliation, coated with an additional layer of self-contempt, sits on his back like newly scored scars. Whatever Link said or didn't say, his saving grace is that he seems to understand just how poorly it'd be received; his hands have dropped into rest by his sides.

That blasted expression hasn't left his face, though.

"Enough," Revali snaps, with such venom that his shoulders heave. A grievous mistake: his wingtips, alarmingly, lose their hold on the arrows he failed to release. He twitches — and refuses to look at them as they clatter to the ground, as if ignoring a pathetic blunder of those proportions is possible. "I'm fine."

Silence. Nothing. It's exactly what he hoped for and exactly what makes the feathers by his neck bristle. He opens his beak, another snarl swelling in his throat, but Link's hands suddenly lift.

<< Your wings are shaking. >>

Revali pauses.

His instinctive response is one of denial. It's also one that would only prove Link's point. He clacks his beak closed, gnashing on an inability to say otherwise, because the trembling — even as he tightens his grip on his bow and rolls the pinions of his other wing into something like a fist — doesn't stop.

It doesn't stop.

"—A miscalculation," he says, brushing the unwelcome observation, the entire debacle, aside with half of an unwanted truth. He pitches his voice louder, firmer, an attempt at distracting. "It's been, as you know, a while. You will have to bear with my recovery — or is that beneath you?"

( Still, it doesn't stop. )

#gloryseized #14. gloryseized #( whoops! turns out there's more than physical healing you gotta go through rev.ali!#sorry i didn't mean to drabble this but. well. aldfjkg #i hope you don't mind!! BUT REALLY THANK YOU FOR SENDING THIS ONE IN HILARY AHHHH #i don't know if i should tag this with anything but cw for the distress that would come with being triggered )#* ode / ic.#* ode / answer.#* ic / para.#* v / songs in the headwind.#long post cw

8 notes · View notes

letstalktea · 2 years ago

Text

Content: M!OC x M!OC, Vampires x Mortal, fluff, not smut

He always came and went like a warm midnight breeze in the Texan summer; knocking on the door to come into his home and leaving him just as quickly. Marcus knew it was a transactional relationship that rarely lasted a few hours at a time, but his door was always open for him anyway; his door and his bed.

"You got thinner," he said as his long, graceful fingers trailed over Marcus' hip bone peeking out of the bedsheets. "Are you eating enough?"

He was one to talk. He was so thin and small that Marcus thought his bones would break if a strong enough breeze blew through. Although, all that thin and small was put together in an appealing way so he wasn't complaining.

Marcus took a drag of his cigarette, holding the smoke in his lungs before releasing it up into the air above their heads. "Yeah." Even though that meant he was living on fast food and convenience store garbage. Hey, at least he was eating.

He chuckled low under his breath as he plucked the cigarette from Marcus' hand. "Liar. You probably taste like shit." He put the cigarette to his soft lips and seemed to just hold it there without breathing in the smoke or even trying.

"You would know better than anyone." Marcus plucked the cigarette out of his mouth before taking another drag of it himself. "Don't start. You're too young to pick up this shitty habit."

He really was young. About 10 years too young to even be on Marcus' radar, but the man had a charm about him that made that seem like a non-issue; a silver-tongue that somehow convinced him that he was older than he looked. Plus, he was pretty as fuck and sometimes the lower head thought a hell of a lot louder than the upper one.

"If I'm young, what does that make you?"

"Old and tired." And in desperate need of a fucking break.

"Oh? Good thing I didn't need you for a job, then. I would hate to have you fall asleep on me." He slipped out from the bed and started picking his clothes from the floor. "Get some sleep and a real meal, Mr. Tired Old Man."

Marcus stamped out the cigarette in the bowl beside his bed. "Pretty sure I've only got breakfast shit. Eggs, bread, maybe bacon…" it was easy to whip up, which is the only reason he even had that much.

He was already dressing himself. "Sure. Eat that in the morning."

"I've got enough for a couple meals, at least…"

"Wonderful! You can make a few meals then."

He wasn't sure if his man was dense or willfully ignorant. That was a lie. He knew. He just didn't like the answer. "Ya want any?"

"Can't."

That was always his answer. He could never stay the night because he had other plans and obligations. And Marcus wanted to punch that obligation in his old, creepy face.

He placed a hand against Marcus' cheek. "You'll eat for me, won't you? I'd hate to see you starve."

Oh, fuck his life and his stupid pounding heart.

"Sure." And it would be the best damn eggs and toast he'd ever had in his life.

"Good." He leaned in to kiss Marcus on the cheek. "Don't get up. I know my way out."

"Yeah, but ya can't lock the door." He hadn't quite gotten to offering him a house key just yet. Plus, it gave him an excuse to see him out rather than opening his eyes to find him gone.

"Worrywart." He giggled. "I have my ways."

"Whatever you say, Dread." He stood from the bed and walked toward the front door so he could spend just those few extra minutes looking at his lovable face.

#talking oc #dread the lasombra #h2ho #a cool drink of water

3 notes · View notes

qutocorrect · 2 years ago

Text

A child of the Sandman they called him.

His skin was as pale as the moon and his hair was long, dark as the night with pointed ears and teeth.

Despite being born somewhere in the 1800s he had a look of youth. He wasn't too small, barely hitting 5'6 in height. But his skin was soft and smooth as well as a pretty round face.

His eyes were blue, and if you gazed into them long enough you could see stars.

He wore similar clothing often, usually consisting of large white sweaters with some variant of design. Tonight his chest was covered with a black stripe.

He and his Sister would swap roles every 12 hours. Letting each other sleep. They barely spoke nor did they know each other's names.

His sister was his height and had a similar youthful figure. But her hair was so pale people would comment it looked like clouds, and her skin was as dark as the night. Some pale freckles helped define her cheekbones.

The siblings ran their little shop, while their father and other siblings helped others fall asleep. They had learned that some sleepers can't make their way to their dreams as easily as first thought. And so, the 2 set up shop, waiting for guests to wander in so they could help.

Usually this was all that was necessary for the sleepers. They would never lose their way and sometimes if they feared the journey, the siblings would give something to help calm the sleepers.

But both began noticing a pattern. More specifically a teenage boy. Showing up almost daily for both siblings.

And no matter what they did, he could never find his way.

The boy had tan skin and dark hair that matched his eyes. His hair reached his shoulders and he wore what appeared to the siblings as an odd looking night gown with short sleeves and buttons up the back.

And even worse every day he seemed more and more tired.

So the siblings began to write in a Journal to each other to keep logs about the boy.

I've learned his name is Takoda. He lives in Northwest Wyoming, a descendant of the Sioux Tribe. Says he remembers taking a nap after getting a headache? I cannot find any remedies at the moment, I am going to ask Sandman for a restock in supplies.

I see, so Takoda only remembers wanting a nap to help a headache? But it's been over 168 hours since his first visit! I fear something is very wrong.

You have a good point, however. We should not do anything wild without Sandman knowing. It's best to wait until he shows up with the supplies. Takoda appears to be getting more pale looking. Plus he is acting awfully aloof. I've told him to stay in our shop until further notice.

I wish you said that during our exchange! He scared the bones out of my body!! I was not expecting a guest this early!!! Goodness and I spilled Ink everywhere in a spook!

Silly, that's what you get for being such a worrywart. Either way, I must ask, have you heard anything from Sandman?

I fear not. He must be busy though.

Just as he wrote that, the door opened. And there was the Sandman, he never showed his face to anyone. Hiding it in the shadows of a Golden hooded robe. He looked at Takoda almost immediately. Then at the brother.

"What is this?"

"I apologize Mr Sandman. For this is Takoda, he has been wandering in and out for days now. We are stumped."

The sandman was silent.. But he soon walked over to Takoda. Revealing a bony old hand from his sleeve. "Take my hand, friend. I believe you are in the wrong place." Takoda slowly took his hand. And in silence, the two walked out.

The brother went to write in the notebook. But saw the Sandman had written something first.

Three hours ago, Takoda passed away from a Cancerous Cyst in his brain. He was comatose for a while. Which is why he was sent to you two. The Grim Reaper didn't know where to find him, so I am glad you two contacted me when you did. Otherwise.. Well..

We don't want to know what happens when the dead wake up.

You’re a shopkeeper who sells liquid dreams. People come to your shop for many reasons; self revelation, escapism, to see a gone loved one or for a precious good night sleep. Your shop is located between dimensions so no visitor can come twice. However, recently you’ve seemed to gain a regular.

12K notes · View notes

cubedmango · 3 years ago

Note

39 with Klapollo? 👉👈

39. “Please come home, I miss you”

Klavier loves his job—evident by all the songs he's written about it, clearly—but sometimes when the world of law hands him long, winding, unending cases with spotless murder weapons and suspiciously tight-lipped witnesses, he regrets his career choices. Just a little.

It's the second day of what's turned into a full-on three-day trial, and he's exhausted to the bone. After a mostly fruitless time both in the courtroom and at the crime scene, all Klavier wants to do is go back home and pass the hell out. Immediately.

It wasn't like this before, he remembers. There was a time when he could easily stay up for late-night investigations and even sleep on his office couch, if needed. His work ethic was the one thing he could always pride himself on, but these days, it's been replaced by the more urgent necessity to not be a sleep-deprived zombie in court. Or just in general.

Maybe Klavier's already getting old—and Herr Ruffles is getting scarily relatable—or maybe the worrywart waiting for him back home has turned him into a new man, one with a new appreciation for proper rest. And a whole lot of cuddles.

Either way, he's glad to be already on his way to his apartment, when the call comes in from a certain someone. He breaks into a grin.

“Hey,” says his dear Herr Forehead, and just that one greeting seems to heal his headache already. “When are you getting back?”

“In a few minutes,” Klavier tells him, though it's not entirely the truth. He's already at their apartment building, taking the elevator up, but he doesn't have to reveal that. “Why? Did you miss me?”

“You wish,” comes the deadpan response, with the clattering of cutlery. “Just asking so I can heat up your dinner.”

“Aw.” Klavier pouts, without any real disappointment. Dating Apollo Justice comes with the occasional difficulties in expressing affection. He's used to it. “Then maybe I'll spend the night at the office, and come back tomorrow instead.”

His boyfriend gasps. “Klavier Gavin, don't you dare—”

The declaration gets cut off by a sudden muffled sound, and the yelps of Apollo going ouch and fuck and watch it, and then there's a very loud meow, right in his ear.

“Mikeko climbed up my shoulder,” Apollo explains, then says to the cat, “Asshole.”

“Maybe he heard me,” Klavier suggests, “Maybe he has something to say.”

As if on cue, Mikeko meows yet again.

“Translation, please, Herr Forehead,” he requests.

“Please come home. I miss you,” Apollo's saying, and Klavier's heart lodges itself in his throat. Dating Apollo Justice also comes with the occasional attempts at expressing affection. That, he's not as used to. “Who else is gonna get me the luxury food and toys I demand, huh? Not this defense attorney without any cases, for sure.”

Klavier looks at himself in the elevator mirror. The lovesick look on his face could probably keep the media and his fans fuelled for weeks. He doesn't even attempt to school it down.

“I see,” Klavier remarks, carefully even. “At least one of you misses me, then.”

“Yep, just him.” Apollo coughs. “Definitely not anyone else.”

“Then I'll come back home for just him,” Klavier says, “Definitely not anyone else.”

“You do that,” Apollo replies, and when the doorbell rings, pauses for a beat. “Hey, is that you?”

Klavier hangs up.

In a few seconds, Apollo will open the door and probably groan about him being back too early, and the food not being ready yet. After that, he'll probably get shoved into the shower with the firm order to take the most relaxing bath he can, and wear the comfiest clothes he owns. Then he'll probably get treated to a delicious dinner—one Apollo will deny learning the recipe of just for him—and after that will come the long-awaited proper rest. And a whole lot of cuddles.

Yes, Klavier's case probably could've used more of his time and attention today, and staying longer working on it might've helped him crack the little details that continue to be eluding, but there's time for that tomorrow, and he'd rather end his day in boyfriend's warm arms than anywhere else.

Klavier loves his job, sure, but he loves his Apollo just a tad bit more—even if the latter has to endearingly admit to missing him via cat.

#klavier gavin #apollo justice #klapollo #ace attorney #my writing #my answer #ty for the request! had fun w this one lol #i hope this posts properly im on mobile rn hmm

90 notes · View notes

killemwithkawaii · 2 years ago

Text

I woke up this morning when the bedframe jerked sideways, and I bolted upright on the mattress when a piece of heavy cloth was thrown over my face. I tore it away and was relieved when it wasn’t a hood or a bag (like thick fabrics thrown over my head usually end up being). It was a familiar, threadbare shirt with ‘The Nockfell Diner’ printed across the front.

“SALLY! SALLY, GET UP!! Shit, shit, SHIT-”

Mitch was wildly pacing (not slowly shuffling) around the room- his room. We weren’t in that seedy motel room anymore. There were no bodily fluids on the carpet, no smashed window, and no painting of the sunset over the mountains on the wall behind the bed. Somehow, we were now in his cluttered little studio apartment in Nockfell, where we’d spent most of our off-time together after we’d started dating. A uniform shirt was half-pulled over their sturdy, in-tact torso, and they- he, was trying to gather his now shoulder-length hair into a ponytail while sifting through piles of junk on the dresser.

“Fuck, shit, where’s my wallet- fuck, goddamit! Sal! Sally, baby, you need to get up! Get dressed, we’re late! My alarm didn’t go off, we’re so fucking late- fuck, FUCK Rob is going to fucking kill me!!”

I was too stunned to move. Mitch had sprouted up 6 inches, gained at least 20 pounds of muscle, was speaking like his jaw hadn’t just been flapping in the wind, and was running around in circles like his head hadn’t been leaking blood and brains all over the place just a few hours ago.

“Fuck, the lunch rush is about to start and we haven’t even done any prep! God, we are so fucking SCREWED-” He grabbed my arm and all but yanked me out of bed. I had shrunken down to my more typical size, albeit with some extra muscle definition, thanks to all the kitchen work I’d apparently been doing, so it was easy for him to drag me to my feet. I stood up straight. My neck was able to support my head. There were no bones poking out of my skin. The only wounds I had were a few little burns on my forearms- ‘proof you worked a shift,’ as Mitch called them.

“C’mon Sal, I’m sorry, but we need to go like NOW-”

“WAIT-” He stopped mid-stride. I couldn’t let him walk out the door- I mean, he couldn’t walk out the door. Probably…? I didn’t know, but I didn’t want to chance it. This universe was supposed to be normal. I didn't want to mind-fuck him right off the bat. I had to think up an excuse, and fast.

“Rob, uh… Rob called this morning…”

“He did…?” Mitch looked nervous, like a kid who was about to get a scolding.

“Yeah! Um… he said, ah… he said that, uh… the diner is closed today…?”

“What? Why?” The diner was never closed- it was 24-hours, that was kind of the point.

“Um… there was… a fire! Yeah, a fire-”

“What?! Oh shit…! How did…? Ugh, I knew I should have checked the grease traps again before we clocked out! Dave never remembers to empty them, that fucking asshat…!”

“No, it wasn’t-”

“No, wait… did the hoods get cleaned last week? I know I helped Sierra take them down, but did they actually get cleaned? They looked clean…”

“I think-”

“Wait- wait, wait, wait… we took the boxes out last night, right? I took a smoke break while we were out back… I… I stomped out my cig, right? Right? Oh fuck, oh fuck, I can’t remember…!”

“Mitch-”

“I- Shit, shit, what if I sparked up the boxes and the whole goddamn dumpster went up and the building caught…?! Oh shit… oh shit…!”

“Mitch, relax!” Damn, I’d almost forgotten what a neurotic worrywart he was in this timeline…

“It was an electrical fire- faulty wiring. The building is old, remember? It wasn’t anybody's fault, everyone is okay, but the diner is gonna be closed all week for repairs.”

“.....” He was fidgeting with his hands. His eyes darted around as he processed the information.

“Well… do they need any help? We could help with the cleanup, or-”

“No, no, Rob said he’s taking care of everything. He told me to tell you to take a vacation for once. That’s why I turned off the alarm- I wanted us to be able to sleep in together.”

“.....” He stood there for a minute, scratching his head on the same side it had been caved in the night before.

“Maybe I should call him and ask…”

“He’s got enough to deal with, Mitchie. We shouldn’t bother him. Just…” I gently took his hand. It was a lot bigger than it had been for the last week or so, but was still a little smaller than mine in comparison. His wrist was bare, but his forearms were dotted with scars from years of kitchen work.

“Let’s just stay in and hang out today, okay? We deserve a break.”

“.....” After a minute, he sat on the edge of the bed, then flopped backward onto the mattress and let out a huge sigh, the adrenaline from waking up late finally wearing off.

“Okay… okay, yeah, lemme just… whew….”

I laid down next to him, using his bicep as a pillow, and gave his now-firm chest a few reassuring pats.

“There ya go… juuust chill Mitchie…. We’ve got nowhere else to be…”

#the staycation 🏡💙#coworker!mitch #tw unreality #tw injury #tw body horror #tw unsanitary #tw blood #meet the fishers

10 notes · View notes

jenojaemssss · 3 years ago

Text

shii-take mushrooms! - k.dy

⇢ pairing: doyoung x fem!reader

⇢ word count: 1.6k

⇢ genre: fluff?

⇢ warnings/a.n: children. and cussing. i like children, i really do. they just scare me.

⇢ in which doyoung says a not-so-nice word in front of his daughter, and you try playing it off. as part of the "previously on" series.

➢

Doyoung glares at the figure standing behind his door with slanted eyes. He looks mildly disgusted, and you’re not sure if it’s because his daughter is covered from hair to shoes in strawberry jam, or because you’re standing in front of him with eyebags deeper than the sea.

“Please, Doyoung, I have a really important work meeting today, and I need you to watch her for like, 3 hours tops!” you beg him, eyes pleading the man in front of you.

He sighs and takes in your polished attire. Wherever it was you were going to must be top priority, seeing that you were decked out in the most business looking outfit he’s ever seen you in.

“I lost track of time prepping for the presentation that I somehow forgot it was today, so I didn’t call your mom beforehand and now she’s busy and-”

“-and now you’re here because my mom told you I had today off,” he cuts you off before looking at the little girl.

She’s looking at you with a glimmer in her eyes; the same glimmer that her dad used to have when he looked at you. She’s everything like him: from the way she talks, to her sassy attitude, to the way she pokes fun at her uncles.

You smile back down at her and look up to Doyoung with a small, apologetic smile on your face. His stone face turns soft when he sees her turn and smile up at him, lips smeared with the sticky red substance.

“In all seriousness, I really need this promotion, Doyoung. If I get this job, I won’t have to send her to your mom’s all the time anymore.” His face softens further. He knows how hard it was on you, working until late hours of the night to provide a nice environment for you two’s daughter, but you’ve been working a little too hard lately.

His mom has been on his ass for weeks about helping you find a more stable job; one that doesn’t require you to stay in for overtime almost every work day until almost midnight. She didn’t want you overworking yourself, which to her despair is exactly what you’ve been doing.

If you get this promotion, you can finally start working from home with more set hours. You’ll be able to spend more time with your daughter.

Doyoung looks at the girl lovingly and sighs, melting at her jam covered face once again. It really doesn’t matter that he and you ended things; she was still his little girl and he would do everything in his power to see her gummy smile.

So, he nods and bends down, picking up his daughter into his arms. He uses his thumb to swipe some of the jam off her mouth and you gratefully hand him a wet wipe that was already speckled with pink.

“Hi sweetie,” he grins at your daughter, tucking a piece of hair behind her ear. She giggles and throws her arms around his neck, choking him in a bear hug.

“I missed you, daddy!” she squeals and he chuckles in agreement.

“Me too sweet girl,” he squeezes her carefully, afraid that he might fracture her tiny bones.

You smile at the sight in front of you, knowing well that your daughter has been missing her dad for the past few weeks. He's been busy with work, similar to you, so he hasn’t been able to spend much time with his daughter either.

You notice his frail figure and an intense guilt washes over you. Today was probably his only day off for probably the next 2 months.

“Thank you Doyoung, I appreciate it,” you interrupt the conversing father-daughter duo. He looks at you warmly and nods again, holding the door open for you to come in and drop off your daughter’s belongings.

You trudge her things into the studio apartment, neatly decorated with many items you recognize from your old shared apartment. You haven’t stopped by in a while, but compared to the last time you’ve been here, the place seems chillier.

Your daughter and her backpack are softly placed on the couch, and the first thing she reaches for is her tablet. You send her a look and she puts it away with a frown. The little girl turns to her dad with puppy eyes; a special trick she learned from her uncle Haechan.

“Honey, you shouldn’t be looking at screens too often,” Doyoung says, petting her hair. He sits down next to her and begins helping her dig through the backpack in search for other things to occupy her with.

“Or else you’d end up like mommy and daddy with terrible vision,” you add. It’s your turn to pat her head and Doyoung chuckles at your comment, nodding along. He pulls out a coloring book and holds it in front of the two of them, fake-gasping at the newfound activity.

“I’m gonna go get us some crayons and colored pencils for this, okay?” he looks at his daughter, who’s filled with joy. She eagerly nods and he gets up, going into his kitchen for the supplies. Your little girl gets up and runs after her dad, poking her head around whatever he was looking into.

You check your watch and decide it’s your time to leave for your meeting. Another 10 minutes here and you might arrive exactly on time, which is something you’re praying doesn’t happen.

“Baby,” you call out to your daughter.

“Yeah?” you hear two voices call back. You turn to see both heads raised to face you, but the bigger (and dumber) one ducks down. Doyoung is blushing furiously at his old habit and tries to distract himself from embarrassment by intensely scurrying for the damned art supplies.

You’re just as shocked, but do a better job at covering up your embarrassment. “Babygirl, mommy has to get going,” you specify.

Your daughter runs back to give you a hug and bids you goodbye. She raises up a fist and you bump it, followed by a “blah la lah.” It’s something she picked up from Big Hero 6, a movie the three of you used to watch together.

While this takes place, a loud ‘bonk’ comes from Doyoung’s general directions.

“Shit,” he mumbles under his breath, but the curse is loud enough to reach your daughter’s innocent ears.

“What does-” your daughter begins, but something louder cuts her off.

“-TAKE MUSHROOMS!” you exclaim, clapping your hands in front of her. “We’ll have hotpot with shiitake mushrooms when mommy gets back later, isn’t that right daddy?” you glare in Doyoung’s general direction.

He stumbles over his response a couple times, but lets out a muffled “yeah” after a long moment.

In the meanwhile, your daughter bursts with excitement at the mention of hotpot. She begins telling you about what she wants in the soup and what broth she prefers. Your lips can’t help but form a smile at your daughter’s happiness when food is mentioned.

Speaking of food, your stomach exerts a low grumble, but it’s loud enough for your ears only, which you thank the heavens for.

Doyoung eventually gets back from the kitchen with the coloring utensils, his face still as red as the crayon he was holding. To your rescue, he approaches with a granola bar hiding in his pocket.

“I dropped the box on my head, but I wanted to get you something to eat,” he awkwardly shrugs and it’s your turn to blush.

Doyoung remembers your terrible habit of being a worrywart and not consuming any food before an important event, so he caught the feeling that you’re probably starving.

Doyoung notices the pink tint on your cheek and feels satisfied with his doing. He wishes you good luck and your daughter copies, jumping up and down in the process.

As you thank the two of them, your focus returns to Doyoung and you send him a slightly warning look. “Let’s make sure we keep our mouths clean today, okay?”

The widest smile plasters on your face when Doyoung flinches, and you finally exit the premises, leaving Doyoung and your daughter to their coloring.

As the door shuts behind you, Doyoung lets out a small sigh and turns to his daughter who’s now facing him. Though to you, she is everything like him, Doyoung sees no resemblance. Instead, he sees you in the little girl: from her smile to her nose, her voice and her hair. He sees her as a mini Y/N, and he loves it.

As he and his daughter sit down to begin their coloring ordeals, he can’t help but think about the meal plan you’d set. He wonders if you were serious, but before more thoughts begin to consume him, a small voice interrupts.

“What do you want in your hot pot, daddy?” his daughter looks up at him with wide eyes.

This is going to be hard to ignore. Maybe having a nice family dinner wouldn’t be too bad.

“I’ll take anything in it,” he begins.

“Except cucumbers,” the two finish in unison. An eruption of giggles burst out of the little girl at the synchronized speech, and Doyoung can’t help but melt at the bundle of joy. He smiles wide and watches her continue marking the page with colorful strokes of pencil and crayon.

Doyoung mentally begins preparing a grocery list for the night, adding everything needed for a steaming hotpot onto the growing list. He ends it with the addition of the previously mentioned shiitake mushrooms and grins, excited to share a meal with you and his daughter tonight.

“C’mon sweetie, let’s get ready to go shopping,” he holds out a hand and lifts his daughter up, putting on her jacket.

118 notes · View notes

tripleyeeet · 5 months ago

Text

⚔️ INFO

hi, i'm summer. 29, they/them, owner of this shit show of a multifandom blog. *18+ blog — i post nsfw + dark content.

COMMISSIONS OPEN

⚔️ OCS

HITOMI SATO | playlist

SHINIGAO KAMO | playlist

ZAYIS MARDEN | playlist

MASUYO DESHI | playlist

*more coming soon!

⚔️ FICS

VOX MACHINA

FUTILE DEVICES.* | percival de rolo/oc

JJK

TOO DAMN NEEDY* | geto suguru/reader

MAXIMUM OUTPUT | ocs (platonic)

RUSH* | kong shiu/bartender reader

NOT SO FRAGILE* | gojo satoru/oc

WORRYWART & OLD BONES | higuruma hiromi/kento nanami

AND HER MIND WAS ON ME* | choso kamo/yuki tsukumo/reader

BG3

SICK LITTLE GAMES* | astarion ancunin/reader

*more coming soon!

#navigation #masterlist #jjk fic #bg3 fic #vox machina fic

11 notes · View notes

mefiman · 3 years ago

Text

Hamato Family’s First Visit to the Hidden City

Story request by @rottmntrulesall. Hope you enjoy the story, bud! ^^

"C'mon, everyone! Hurry up!" Michelangelo's impatience was obvious in his excitement. He and his siblings were finally going to show their dad's relatives for the first time to the Hidden City for two reasons; one: to view the many wonders of the other world and two: to have a formal, proper meeting with Draxum's parents. The latter part had instilled some unease into the Hamato siblings, especially Saki who was wary about stepping foot into a mysterious world and was about to see for himself the father and mother of the "monster" who altered his younger brother many years ago.

"Are you sure this place is safe?" Hamato Kenji asked. Raphael glanced at his uncle, understanding his uncle's concerns. "We've been there a lot, Uncle Kenji! We did encounter a few dangers there before but other than that, the people there don't usually attack humans unless provoked." Raph assured his uncle.

"There are a lot of places to visit like the many resorts and spas if you want to have a massage and ooh, Señor Hueso's Run of the Mill Pizza where they make one of the best pizzas! I know the manager of that place, we're amigos~" Leonardo took the chance to quip in.

"I can't wait to see Grandpa Mons again! Wait till you guys meet him yourselves, he's the nicest, sweetest grandpa you'll ever meet! He's still as strong as he's gentle!" Mikey said happily.

"I wonder if Grandma Chemia has some wicked new inventions to show me!" Donatello exclaimed.

"This would be my first time seeing my grandparents, Arachne..." Ariadne whispered to her best friend, Arachne.

"You've never seen them before?" Her friend asked.

"Once when I was a baby... I haven't seen them for years." The yokai femme told Arachne.

"Alright, kids, you've shown us all that you're excited to bring us to visit the Hidden City, Mikey, can you open the portal now?" Splinter asked.

"Sure, Dad!" Mikey got to work quickly.

Draxum felt a tinge of anxiety inside himself. He could not recall the last time he visited his creators ever since he moved out of home to pursue his alchemy researching, away from his parents' constant arguments, half of which is about their preferred methods of raising him. It was a surprise how those two still manage to live under the same roof despite their obvious clashing personalities. He guessed that they tolerated each other just for his sake. His parents had never produced any more offspring after him and one of Arachne’s parents...

"Hey, are you okay, Dad?" A female voice asked him. Draxum jolted from his pondering to find that his daughter, Poison Ivy asking him out of concern. He just gave a small smile as he ran his clawed hands over her helmet. "Am fine, just thinking about your grandparents." He assured her. He marveled how Ivy much had grown from the last time he scientifically created her with his and Lou Jitsu's DNAs; she being so tiny as a developed newborn infant growing in a liquid chamber to a young lady around the boys' ages. From what he knew later on, Splinter raised her along with the Turtles. Ivy had lived her life at first as a normal human teenager until her yokai genes started appearing. The initial discovery of her origins did shake her world but over time, she had learnt to accept and use them to assist her brothers in their adventures. She was intelligent like Draxum and his mother with his father's gentle, mature nature as well as Splinter/Lou's sassiness. She loved to study on botany and coincidently, her powers involved using vines and summoning plant like monsters at will. She recently revealed her sexuality preference as a lesbian and had a girlfriend who is a fellow classmate and witch trainee/apprentice in disguise. Both her creators and siblings were happy for her. As of now, she was cradling her younger sister, Venus de Milo was giggling and squealing as April, Ariadne and Arachne cooed and tickled her belly.

The group watched Mikey draw a symbol on the wall at an alley. Once the symbol was drawn, an open portal revealed. The Hamato siblings' mouths went ajar, not believing what they just saw. "if you think that's mind blowing, you haven't seen nothing yet!" Mikey grinned. His three other brothers and the three girls each took hold of one of their Hamato uncles and aunts's hands. The moment they all jumped into that portal, they found themselves staring at a massive part of a what seemed to be a huge city. The sky above was unlike Earth's skies; instead it was orange with some brown. The architecture of the buildings there were monster shaped with some tall, castle like structures far away from the city. There were a lot of people of all shapes, sizes, colors and appearances walking, running, passing by each other, buying their needs or doing their usual business trades. The Turtle family allowed their Hamato relatives to take in their first view around them. Saki's eyes were bulging out of his sockets, he could not believe for his life what he was seeing. Anthropomorphic, mostly consisting of animal, everyday objects, monstrous and supernatural like individuals roamed every part of the streets around him, he felt as if he was having a strange dream that defied logic! Nori on the other hand, looked right and left, taking in interesting sights that captured her attention. Underneath a calm façade, Kenji was freaking out internally at the new, foreign view. Hiroki was squealing in delight similar to a child had just discovered a world made of toys and sweets. Her twin, Hikari was a bit calmer than his sister, feeling a thrill of danger running through his veins. Last but not least, the youngest Hamato sibling, Mei's stance looked poker face yet she looked around to see if there were any Gothic like people that she can interact with. The Turtles and the girls grinned, seeing the reactions of the others.

"What do you think? Surreal, huh?" They ask.

"Amazing.."

"Fascinating..."

"I can't believe what I'm seeing..."

"Someone please tell me that I'm dreaming..." Saki mumbled, still not believing.

"No, you're not," Draxum replied, going straight to the point with an indifferent expression. "May we please hurry to my parents' house, I bet they're waiting for our arrival..."

"Oh yeah!" Mikey clapped both his hands once. "Lead the way, Draxy!"

Draxum sighed as he took the lead of the group. Along the way, there were a few whispers around and behind Draxum coming from the city people but Splinter and Ivy took hold of both his hands and gave a comforting, assuring squeeze, making him feel better. Ariadne gave her uncle a comforting hand on to his shoulder. They were soon out of the main city square to a further distance into the woods. They had to climb up a hill for a while until they reached a big mansion residing there.

"We are here at last. My childhood home..." Draxum said, looking at the grassy, serene valley below, reminiscing the times where he as a little one ran galloping around the field, cartwheeling with glee among the flowers and his sire teaching him the basics on how to defend himself the predator way. Both father and son spend their days in the early years, sparring with each other...

"Draxum, my son!" The former alchemist warrior villain snapped out of his memories to find himself being engulfed into the arms of none other than his dear, loving old father, Monsrage who brought his only son into a crushing bear hug which knocked the wind out of his lungs. "How have you been, my little baby boy? It's rare that you visit us but it's so wonderful to see you bring your family along! How delightful!" the older yokai gushed, his bushy tail wagging with unlimited enthusiasm like an excited puppy. Monsrage was rather huge and muscular with perked up, pointy ears, silky straight black hair unchanged through time and a fairly long beard to match. Like Draxum before, he wore a battle mask. He had a significant dark upperlip. His body had different shades of blue just like his son, Draxum when he was armored. Monsrage's eyes were the same like Draxum's. His feet in particular, was a noticeable difference. Unlike his wife and son, his feet were shaped like a lion's paws, fitting for him coming from a predator species.

"Father, it's great to see you... but can you please let go now? I can't breathe..." Draxum choked out, being smothered by his sire's busty chest. Monsrage immediately loosened his grip, apologizing profusely while checking to see if he had accidently broken any of his son's bones. Draxum shook his head, smiling a little. His sire had never changed all these years, still a concerned worrywart. And he bet his mother had not either...

Chemia on the other hand, was greeting the rest of the visitors with feverish energy. She was a redhead with shades of pink for her skin colour and her ears, long and drooped. Her eyes had a little twinkle in them, a part of her eccentric personality and plump, red lips. Like her husband, she wore a mask. Donnie, April, Arachne and Ivy were given a whirlwind hug the moment they came in front of her. Monsrage went back to the mansion with his son to give the new visitors, the Hamatos, April, and Arachne a warm greeting as well as welcome his beloved grandchildren with his signature bear hug and proceed to pepper their faces with smooches which they were delighted to have especially Mikey, Ariadne, Ivy and Venus. Monsrage and Chemia ushered them all into their humble abode. The Hamatos were initially skeptical about meeting Draxum's family but they were soon warmed up to them. Later on, the mansion was filled with guffaws of laughter as Monsrage showed them all baby pictures of his son which embarrased the poor warrior scientist. Donnie, April and Ivy were treated to Grandma Chemia's latest creations. Monsrage himself had a blast, playing with Venus and sparring with the Turtles and the girls. Arachne was delighted to meet her grandparents as a young adolescent, telling them about her achievements, adventures and that her own parents are doing well. The Hamatos became comfortable talking with Draxum's parents over some snack delicacies. Overall, everyone had a wonderful time at the Hidden City.

I had fun writing this! Was tiring but oh so worth it.

The Hamato siblings (minus Lou/Splinter) and Venus de Milo belong to @rottmntrulesall while Ariadne and Arachne are the OCs of @mikeykawaii/@mikey-ho. Monsrage, Chemia and Poison Ivy along with the mention of the witch girlfriend belong to me, @mefiman. I hope you don’t mind me incorporating your girls into this story, @mikeykawaii but I’ve been dying to add them in, especially Ari meeting her grandparents! ^^

#rottmnt #rise of the teenage mutant ninja turtles #rise of the tmnt #tmnt #my art #ocs #baronjitsu #a teeny bit mentioned

68 notes · View notes

dancingthesambaa · 3 years ago

Text

The Smell of Plum Blossom Tea Ch 11

Summary: Just like a butterfly wing, a single act of kindness can change the course of the future, it certainly did for MK as a black furred monkey put out a hand towards him.

Rating: Teen and up

Chapter 11: It’s a Bittersweet Reunion

“Monkey King!” MK quickly stood up as he rushed towards his mentor, “it’s not what it-” he quieted down as he felt Monkey King glint ominously as he stared him down.

“You should probably listen to starlight there,” Macaque tried to say, but he sighed when the stare was directed back to him, but a lot more threatening.

“What have you done to him!?”

“Or you can just ignore me,” he sighed dramatically, but his entire body was buzzing in anticipation for the first strike. He knew how this is all gonna go down whether he likes it or not. So he takes a step forward with his hands out and says, “look Wukong, it’s-” then promptly stops as the Monkey sage takes a step towards him.

“Don’t you take another step forward,” he growled out.

“Look Wukong-”

“Don’t call me that.”

“I refuse to call you Monkey King, so Wukong,” he emphasized. He didn’t call him Monkey King back then and he sure as hell is not about to start now. “Open your fucking ears and listen, I’m not gonna hurt the kid.”

“Nice try, but I’m not buying it,” he watched his every twitch, just waiting to see when he would strike.

“But I’m not, you really think I’d hurt a kid?”

Wukong said nothing, but his narrowed eyes were all the answer he needed.

Macaque sucked in a sharp breath and gritted his teeth shut as his nails dug into the palm of his hands. He tried his best to ignore the hushed whispers in his head that begged him to show him real fear. Show how deep our shadows can take him. Show him how to see with one eye like him. Show him painpainpainpain. Then he let the air harshly out of his nose as clenched his teeth as he growled out. “You really think that low of me huh.”

“After what you did to them,” he shifted his foot back and gripped tightly onto his staff, “it does make me question a few things.”

The six eared demon couldn’t stop the jealousy and irritation that flowed through his mind when he heard those venomous words. Didn’t stop his hands from shaking nor his eyes or ears from twitching.

“What were you doing with MK,” he repeated himself.

“Oh some herb gathering, I’m out of stock you know,” he sarcastically said.

“If you're going to lie, at least think of a more feasible story,” Mac really wanted to rip off his tongue at that, “tell me the truth.”

“Or what?”

“But it’s true!” MK tried to say, but it seemed that his words were ignored.

“Or I’ll make you,” he let the golden energy roll over him as he stood in front of his student.

“Just try it,” he taunted as his own violent aura emerged and coiled around him. He knew where this was headed, but at this point he didn’t care, he wanted to vent out all his frustrations to this dumbass monkey for a long time. He sent over a glance to MK, who looked to be on the verge of a mental breakdown, to stand far away.

He heard it loud and clear as he opened and closed his mouth repeatedly before running as far as he could.

Then, in less than a heartbeat, there was a loud sound that blasted out as the two monkeys collided together in a burst of torrent energy.

BOOM BOOM BOOOOOM

They separated as the blow blew them both back, but Wukong charged first once more as Macaque sank into the shadows to avoid the attack. That didn’t deter the golden monkey as he activated his eyes of truth with a quick glance charged at one spot, only to block an attack from a clone emerging while the other followed suit.

“You really think it would be that simple,” taunted Macaque as he rushed in with a swing of his glowing staff.

Wukong easily dispelled the clones and side swept him with his own staff.

Neither side gave him as they instinctively began to run further toward the mountain while still attacking one another.

Both monkeys are opposite of one another in many ways, but those differences seem to not matter when face to face with each other as they both counter each other's moves.

When Wukong became a bird and flew high to drop down into a tiger, Macaque manipulated his shadows to tackle him out of mid air and send him spiraling to become a crater on the ground.

When Macaque tried to grapple him from behind and throw him to the mountain side, Wukong nimbly dodged and sent him a sidekick to the side.

When Wukong sent out a flurry of blows, Macaque easily blocked each strike with his own staff.

When Macaque attempts to kick him to the mountain and pin him there, Wukong jumps high and hurdles him away from him.

When one attacks, the other counter.

When the other strikes, one will block.

It was almost an endless cycle.

It may have been a long time since they last saw each other, but the knowledge and the instinct that was left upon them never failed for a second. So, with both monkeys equally matched it would lead to a stand still as neither side gave in or could push enough.

So how would this end?

With both sides killing the other off with one final blast, leaving the mountain and perhaps even part of the city in ruins?

Not quite. Actually it would end when MK had enough of this stupid fight and recklessly charges in.

“STOOPPP!” He yelled out as he made the final jump and stood in between the two enraged monkeys. He knows this is a very stupid move that he is gonna get lectured on later, but he thinks that this is the only way to stop the two of them from fighting.

And he was right. Both monkeys' eyes widened in horror as they saw where their attack was heading.

“MK/STARLIGHT!” They both screamed as both of them immediately aborted their powered up blast and screeched to a halt before they could run into him.

The sage monkey could feel his heart drilling in his ears as he was so grateful that he managed to stop when he did. Before he could grab his kid, another force beat him to it as he saw Macaque rush over to him. He sprinted over there to stop him from hurting him but it was too late as the black furred monkey grabbed MK, picked him up…and began to examine him frantically?

“Are you okay? Did you get hit? Did the excess release of the energy seep out and injure you? Do you feel any nausea, headaches, dizziness, need to run around and blow shit up, bloody nose?” He began to search not only his physical self, but his inner self in both body and spirit. He may train him and Mei to the ground every session and make them wish they wanted to rip out their own bones, but that doesn’t mean that he doesn’t take the utmost care of them. Hence why they have never left training with any broken bones or fractures alike, this is probably why everyone calls him a worrywart.

‘…what?’ Wukong blinked at the scene in front of him.

“I’m fine,” he tried to push the hands off him and focus him back on what was previously happening.

“That still doesn’t take away from the fact that you recklessly charged into the fight and almost got yourself killed!” He hissed out.

“Meep,” he lowered his head as he remembered, right, his Dad could care less if the world was burning around them if he was hurt in any way. Though that doesn’t stop the warm feeling in his gut at the thought.

“Ummm, what’s happening?” Monkey King couldn’t help but ask as he stepped forward, only to be stopped by Macaque turning to him, as he pushed MK behind him, and let out a short snarl to him with his eyes burning a bright violet.

He only stopped once he realized just who he was looking at and remembered what just happened not even a minute ago as he slowly eased his posture. But even when his eyes were focused on the monkey in front, he still kept three of his ears to MK behind.

“Wouldn’t you like to know tinker bell,” he couldn’t help grunting out.

“Okay, first off rude and secondly, I just want to know what you're doing with my student?” He rolled his eyes cause at this point he sorta figured out that he may have been slightly wrong about something. He just can’t put his finger on what.

“Oh now you want to talk,” the medicine monkey huffed, “would have been a nice idea before you decided to up and try to kill me.”

“I wasn’t going to kill you,” Wukong immediately said. “Just knock you out,” and that was the solid truth. He may not see eye to eye with him anymore, but he will not take away his life. He refuses to.

“Oh cause that’s so much better.”

“Would you rather you be a hundred feet underground?”

“As if you can manage that, I felt that last punch, it seems you are slacking old man,” he gave him a nasty smile.

“By only a thousand year!” His eye twitched at the age-old insult.

“Keep telling yourself that old man.”

“There may be a standstill but that still won’t stop me from throwing your scrawny ass off this mountain!”

“I would rather not,” both monkeys startled at the sound of MK's voice and they quickly backed away from each other as they just realized how close they were standing to the other. “I rather like my Dad alive.”

“MK don’t do-wait YOUR DAD?!” You can almost hear his neck snap towards his student at his words.

“Yeahhhh,” he couldn’t help but avoid those bewildered eyes as he rubbed his neck.

Wukong could barely comprehend his words as he turned his head to a very smug monkey.

“Surprise mother fucker,” he couldn’t help but say. He was very much enjoying this.

And for the first time, the Great Sage Equal to Heaven, finally took a good look at his former friend and noticed that he has definitely changed. He couldn’t decide what to focus on, from his new clothes, his long mane (which really threw him for a loop), his sleek fur, or his very sparkly nails. But he decided it was probably best to focus on the human he is actually willing to protect as he formed up an articulate question in his head out loud.

“Dad?” Nope, he was still very thrown off about this. Macaque is a Dad?!? Are we still talking about the same angst demon monkey that would barely even stand the presence of others let alone a human child?!

“Huh, congratulations. I think you finally broke what was left of his brain no matter how small it may have been,” he complimented his child.

“I really wasn’t trying,” he sighed as he stepped closer.

“Then that’s even more pathetic on his part.”

“I’m still here,” Wukong couldn’t help but announce.

“Oh really I thought you left,” Macaque sarcastically said, “well since you're here then I guess you finally have time to listen or are you just gonna be an impulsive idiot again.”

“Okay, I’ll admit that I may have jumped the gun, but can you blame me for thinking that you would try something to get back at me?!” He shouted back, not knowing the fuse he had lit.

“Excuse me!?” At this point the demon monkey was fed up as he began to march back over to the sage monkey to start round two. He hoped he did not imply what he thought he did.

“I-I mean you used to never do this before,” he quickly said to calm down the enraged monkey, though he probably should have listened to MK frantic hand movements as they all gestured him to basically ‘shut up before you get killed.’

“I ‘used’ to! Past tense you egotistical fool! People-demons-I can change! I have changed, I know I am not the same demon I was thousands of years ago!” He had to stop himself from dragging his hands to that pretty little throat/begging him to understand. “I am not the same.”

“And you just happen to stumble upon a human who so happens to be able to pick up my staff?” He said in disbelief.

“Want to hear something shocking? Yes! I did! I found him and I adopted him cause I could, cause I wanted to, cause I couldn’t stand the thought of leaving him alone! So get off your high horse and come down to the rest of us beings, cause the world doesn’t revolve around you Sun Wukong.” Macaque could barely hold in his anger as he spat out his name.

Wukong didn’t even flinch as he held his ground, he knows that people can change, he sure as fuck had, but right now he wants to make sure that the demon in front of him had changed for the better. He knows he is driving a bigger gap between them than before (hurtpainpainwhydontdoithetribematefriend) but he can’t take any chances, especially with the kid involved in their mess. “That still doesn’t mean that you won’t try to use him against me like before!”

And it was that moment that the fuse hit the combustion and Macaque erupted in a glorious and deadly violet light as he smashed his right fist into the mountain side and moments later, that came crumbling down.

“How dare you,” the low voice harshly echoed out.

“Wha-”

“How fucking DARE YOU!” Voices overlapped each other as a pulse of dark violent energy instinctively flared out towards Wukong, who was just able to stand his ground against the wave.

“Mac-” The monkey tried to speak but was abruptly cut off.

“How dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child! Fuck you, you flea ridden coward! Here’s a fucking clue things change! I can admit I done some shit in the past, I screwed many over, and I damn sure stained red with the blood of innocent and guilty, but don’t you even dare for a goddamn moment that you never done messed up shit fuck face! But how fucking dare you accuse I would do anything to harm my child!” His eyes glowed in pure rage as he locked onto shocked golden eyes. He was done.

“No! No I don’t thi-” He shouldn’t have done this, he shouldn’t have said a damn thing.

“Shut up! Like fuck I know I made my own stupid mistakes and even when centuries have passed I will never make up for some of those, do you want me to say sorry? Cause I fucking am!” He clenched his robes to where his heart was as he gripped it right.

Wukong eyes feel like it couldn’t enlarge anymore as he reached out a hand to him, “Mac-”

“I’m sorry for attacking you and your friends so many times! I’m sorry that I couldn’t change my ways back then! I’m sorry that I couldn’t keep up! I’m sorry that I wasn’t able to stay by your side! I’m sorry for all the years you wasted being my other half!”

He is sorry that he spend all those years with his Sun, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but feel alive when he is with him, he is sorry that he couldn’t help but falling in love with him for all those years, but he doesn’t-will not say that outloud nor will he ever truly regret it.

Wukong feels everything shrinking in on him as he only has eyes for only one as of this moment. He could see the anger in his voice, the frustration in his eyes, and the rage in his stand.

But if there is one thing Macaque has always been good at, it is playing the part, cause he can also see the desperation in his tone, the misery in his eyes and the pure betrayal in how his shoulders are a bit too firm.

“Mac no! I-” He wanted to explain that he didn’t want this, that he was being an idiot.

“Shut up!” He didn’t want to hear anymore.

“Listen!” He wanted to explain it all.

“Shut up!” Not a single word, not now.

“Please, just-” He needs to tell him.

Then his glamor flickered as all of his scars showed on his body and his hazy blind one appeared as he bared his fangs and screeched out.

“I said SAVE IT BASTARD!”

It was dead silent on the mountain trail, no bird was chirping, no leaves were rustling, not even a sound of heavy breathing was heard. If you listened closely you could hear the beating heartbeat of every living thing, which was quite a feat unto itself, but it was suffocating to two demons facing each other on the mountain.

MK was the one who finally broke the silence as he walked up next to him, while making sure his footsteps were loudly heard, and gently spoke. “Dad, your glamor.”

That was what snapped Macaque out as he looked down to his scar filled hands and already instinctively knew the ones on his face, let alone the rest of his body, was prominent. So, he took a long deep breath as he held one hand over his blind eye and released it as he put the glamor back on.

“I’ll be leaving first starlight, yell if you need me,” he quietly said as he lowered his hand to reveal the scarless eyes.

“I will…are you okay dad?” He worriedly asked as he looked at him.

Macaque could only muster up a small smile at his child care as he ruffled his hair, before sinking into the shadows.

Not once looking back to his old friend.

MK could only faintly watch his dad shadow travel and as soon as he knew he couldn’t see him anymore, he whirled around to the Monkey King, who still had a very horrified expression, with a pissed off look, “What the hell was that?!”

“What have I done?” He hoarsely said as he still had his eyes on the traveling shadow even when it had long escaped from the mountain.

“I don’t know, maybe jump to conclusions!” He snarked out to the Monkey King for the first time. He respects him, he really does and that won’t change, but that he cares more for the monkey who raised him and took care of him for all those years. So yeah, he is getting some answers out of him whether he likes it or not.

Monkey King, who hadn't moved since Macaque left, finally pried his eyes away from the moving shadow, no matter how much he wanted to follow, and looked to his student. “I messed up real bad, didn’t I.”

“If you mean by indiscriminately yelling at my dad before he even had the chance to speak then promptly fighting him and then going back to yelling at him once more? Then yeah, you did,” he sarcastically said.

He winced at the harsh, but very justifiable, tone. “…so, he’s your dad?” And he still can’t help but ask, because Macaque raising a child was not even on his list of things he could have imagined.

“Geez, how’d you figure that one out?”

“You get your snark from him don’t you,” he couldn’t help but say.

“Oh yeah,” he unashamedly said, “he did raise me after all.”

Wukong wilted at the reminder, “He did, didn’t he.” It was after he said that was when he squatted down, gripped his hair, and let out a short burst of frustration. He doesn’t know if he can come back from this, if things were bad before, they are absolutely horrendous to the pit of despair now.

The student silently calmed down as he blinked at the monkey sage actions then a few things finally clicked into place. “You still care about him.”

“What, the books don’t emphasize enough of our ‘wonderful’ relationship to each other,” Monkey King couldn’t help but sarcastically say. He has read the book and let’s just say that there are some details so far off that it just makes him want to completely rip all his fur off.

“No, but dad does tell me that you were his first friend,” he plopped down next to him.

The Monkey King, “He talks about me?”

“Ohhh yeah, he told me all the things you guys did together. Like that one time where you tried to trick a corrupt ruler by disguising as a pair of priests.”

“To be fair, the two of us were really hungry and that buffet that he had looked real damn good, it’s not our fault that the man got outed in the end and was left on the cliff…well only a little bit,” he snorted. You can’t blame them for being hungry, but they may have had a rather loud conversation out loud about the extravagant feast they saw to a couple of people…in the market of the common folks….and as they were in the middle of a shortage. Things just tend to escalate sometimes, but can you really blame them?

“Dad just said that what goes around comes around.”

“That too,” he said with a small chuckle as he trailed off and sighed, “he was with me since almost the beginning. When I left the mountain for the first time, I didn’t have my monkey nor did I know anyone, so meeting him was a blessing.”

“He told me the two of you met after you ate a mountain deity offering,” MK said.

“Like I said, I was still new to the world and I barely knew a damn thing, but he was there for basically it all and has to be one of the main reasons I’m even alive today, cause I can be real and admit that he was at least 75 percent of my impulse control.” He remembered all those times he had run off at the sight of the newest shiny objects or the next food and the amount of times Mac had to drag his ass away from there before the two of them were caught. “And I managed to ruin that all…twice!” He moaned out as he gripped his hair once more in frustration.

MK just watched his teacher silently self deprecate himself, he knows what it looks like, and sighed as he patted his shoulder. “It’s not totally over.”

“I essentially attacked him twice! I know some of those scars were made by me during our first battle and his eye,” he stopped short as he could feel the bile rise up as he remembered the hazy honey color eye floating back into his mind. “I made him blind, he is blind in one eye and I did that. Fuck I did that…I can’t forgive myself let alone even think he will forgive me.”

“Dad can hold a grudge, but he can also forgive. By the gods knows how many times I messed up before,” he lightly jokes.

“You're his kid and by the looks of it, someone he cares for greatly.” He doesn’t think he has ever seen his friend that worried before unless it was aimed towards him whenever he got badly injured. There is a painful tug of something weird coming from his stomach at the thought.

“And you're his friend, someone who he also cares for,” he shot back. “The two of you need better communication, but you two aren’t shattered and crushed up by a horse hoof during a race, just a bit broken but it can still be fixed.”

The monkey looked his student in the eye, “You really think so?”

“Mmhmm, Dad has missed you for all those years after all.” If he was any less observant he would have missed his Dad's nostalgic expression whenever he told him a story about them or his sad eyes when he would ask questions about the Monkey King.

“He’s not the only one,” he said as he finally sat down from his squatting position. “…can you tell me more about him?” It was about time he got reacquainted with his friend, they had over five hundred years after all. Maybe it was time to go back in the world again and see what he has been missing out on.

“Well he likes to garden,” he switched positions and crossed his legs together, this was gonna be a long talk.

Wukong's eyes blinked rapidly, “Now that’s new, I remembered that when we needed food we would just go to someone's farm and take some food there, there were so many times Mac took out weeds by accident, but damn it we still ate it just for the laughs.” He gave a small smile.

“He still does that from time to time out of habit.”

“Complains about it getting stuck in his teeth?” His eyes brighten.

“All the time,” he agreed.

The monkey let out a short chuckle, “Is that why you guys were up here? To get more plants?”

“Well no, we were here getting some herbs.”

“Herbs? Like for medicine?” He shot straight up and tried to ignore the growing pit of horror in his stomach. “Are you sick? Is he sick? Are you guys okay?!”

MK quickly shook his hands to dispel the worries monkey, he already had one, he was not looking for another. “No, nothing like that. He’s…well I guess basically a Doctor, I mean no one really puts a name on it, but yeah he usually collects herbs for his supply.”

“I’m sorry, he’s a what?!” Great! And here’s another thing he could have never imagined that Macaque being! “When-how-why did he become a Doctor?!”

“Honestly, he just said he was bored one day and saw Ping making medicine and decided to learn from him,” he shrugged. He should be glad that the Monkey King has come out of his depressive state, despite his over reaction to his dad…though it is quite funny.

“Whose Ping?” He knows that this is not someone the both of them knew when they were still friends, so this must have happened after.

“Ping is the human who-” MK cut himself off as he realized that perhaps he shouldn’t just tell his father personal secrets to someone he just had a fight with. “…who is one of his friends, he can tell you more about it if you ask.” Which will not be any time soon.

“Yeah, I’ll do that,” he said with deceit dripping from his voice, totally spacing out when he heard the word ‘friends’. “What else?”

“He sometimes likes to do shadow puppetry in the theater.”

“Now that’s something I know he won’t give up, I remember that he was more dramatic than me when it concerns his puppetry.”

“That’s what I said and he still is!”

Now everything still wasn’t fine despite the lighthearted atmosphere that surrounded the two. There was still a bone deep hurt that needed much time to be healed and nurtured between the two immortal simians, but this was the first step, no matter how small this may be. It will take time, patience, and so many apologies before anything can be forgiven, but for now it was the time to learn and let both monkeys calm down. For when it is time to meet once more, it is needless to say that a certain impulsive simian is going to go full force.

The sun was setting by the time MK got back from the mountain, he decided to go to his dad’s place for the night after he called up Pigsy to tell him the small change. When he entered through the front door the whole house was completely dark and silent as not a single light was on nor a single sound was uttered.

‘Oh no,’ he silently thought to himself as he made his way past the living room, passed their bedroom and finally faced a closet where they stored all of their pillows and blankets. He gently opened the door and his heart dropped as he saw his dad there in almost pitch darkness, kneeling with his head almost touching the ground and his hands covering all six of his ears as he methodically tapped the back of his neck with his middle finger.

MK opened his mouth to ask if he was alright, but promptly closed it as he realized just how stupid that question was, so instead he quickly head out to gathered some items before coming back. He placed the bowl of fruit and water bottles on the shelf above, he gently pried his dad hands off his ears and put the headphones on instead, he made sure to wrap the weighted blanket around the both of them, and he gently redirected his dad head to instead lay on his lap after he closed the door and began to groom his dad mane.

And yet throughout this entire process, Macaque had yet to utter a single word nor even shift an inch from his spot.

The boy knew he wasn’t going to respond, but he still can’t help himself but feel a twinge of anger directed at the Monkey King at what he has done.

‘This whole day was a disaster and a half,’ he narrowed his eyes as he numbly threaded his fingers in the fluffy fur. ‘He may be a God, but he’s not infallible…he’s not perfect.’ And with this little thought, he began to really realize that despite status or power, no one can be truly perfect. Not the Monkey King nor any other higher being that claims to be above them all. It’s a cynical thought, but he thinks that maybe it’s more real than he can imagine.

But those thoughts can wait for now. Right now, all he wants to do is focus on grooming this fur and just being there for his dad.

In the forest when the moon was high all were mostly sleeping and all was calm. Though some were laid to rest, there were other creatures, both mythical and not, that were waking up to their nightly routine. Everything was the same as always and nothing had changed enough to really bother any creatures despite.

Not even for a newly planted Plum Blossom seed that lay deep within the forest.

#lego monkie kid #monkie kid #mk monkie kid #macaque #six eared macaque #monkey king #PlumTeaAU

33 notes · View notes

amjustagirl · 4 years ago

Text

Chapters: one. ~ two. ~ three. ~ four. ~ five. ~ six. ~ seven.

Masterlist link here

AO3 link here

Summary:

Akaashi Keiji catches glimpses of another life in his dreams. He dreams of fields of endless gold, of constellation of stars that light up the night sky. He hears echoes of birdsong in her laughter, her songs to the gods in the wind.

Wordcount: 1.9k

Author’s note: This fic is a little different from my usual work, so I’m a little nervous about publishing it. If you do like it, would love if you leave a comment / reblog / anything!

Pro tip: Italics denote scenes in Akaashi’s dreams / past.

If you’d like to be included in the taglist, do drop me a msg/ask!

But then his dreams start to take a dark turn, though he doesn’t notice it at the start.

There is light dancing on the edge of his eyelids, and when he blinks he finds himself in a field of never-ending gold. ‘You’re obsessed with flowers ’ he teases her, leaning on his hands to allow the breeze to ruffle his hair and whisper long lost secrets in his ear.

‘But they’re so pretty. It’s like they were put on this earth by the gods to remind us that life can be beautiful, after all.’

‘Now who’s being poetic, hm?’

‘Don’t tease! I’ll give you a more prosaic reason then. I’ve loved flowers ever since I worked for a florist after mum died to earn a little money on the side and ended up falling in love with the look on people’s faces when they buy flowers for themselves and the people they love. ’

‘Why don’t I see you work at the florist shop then? ’ He frowns, thinking of the bustling, cosy little shop in the town square owned by Hana-chan’s mom.

‘It didn’t work out’, she says simply. ‘Well, never mind that. Just shush and bask in the sun, let the sky gods weave rainbows into your dreams’.

Her words linger in his mind, and he foolishly finds himself searching for rainbows in the sky the next day.

‘Listen to the sky, Keiji ’, she calls, her laughter like birdsong. ‘ Do you think the wind will answer our prayers today?’

‘You answer my question first ’, he grumbles. ‘Hana-chan cornered me at school to scream at me to mind my own business again. Does that have anything to do with the bruises I saw on your arm last week? What kind of trouble are you getting yourself into when I’m not around? ’

‘Nosy, nosy Keiji ’, she teases, and he knows she’s just deflecting his concerns again. ‘You’re just overthinking things again’.

‘Promise me you’ll be careful’, he pleads. ‘Promise me you’re not doing anything stupid‘.

‘Stop worrying, silly boy, I promise I’ll be fine’, she murmurs, her voice lost in the wind.

‘You need to tell me what’s going on, you can’t go on like this at this rate’ , he hears himself say, desperation laced in his words.

He looks down. There is a tapestry of mottled bruises and angry welts on her arms, paint strokes of yellow and blue and purple and red that is gut-wrenching in the violence it implies.

‘It’s not my secret to tell, Keiji’ , she says, unwavering.

He wakes up, the pit in his stomach slowly filling up with dread. His dreams are turning out to be less like a shojo manga, more like a thriller that he suspects will give its protagonist a terrible end.

'Have you been a good friend to Hana-chan these days? ’ the man asks, an unfriendly smile playing on his lips.

Akaashi (or rather, him in her – though she’s in here somewhere too so it’s a little confusing) frowns, but accepts the box of vegetables and eggs held out to him anyway. ‘I suppose’, he answers, the load heavy in his arms, and the man seems to accept his response, humming an offbeat tune.

‘Well, I hope you can keep a secret, sweet girl’ the man laughs, tossing his cigarette butt on the grass before walking away. Sparks smoulder in the dry grass, and Akaashi hurries to balance the box on his hip before stamping them out.

‘That’s Hana-chan’s father, Nakamura-san ’, she tells him, voice strained. ‘I need you to act normal around him, got that?’

‘Might need you to find me the definition for your normal’ he says drily. ‘That word’s lost its meaning to me these days ’.

He hears her chuckle, but she doesn’t sound amused.

Hana-chan corners him when he’s in her body and he’s stupid enough not to notice the fist that swings his way.

‘I told you, you little creep’, she snarls, her nails digging into his arms. ‘I told you to stay the fuck away from me, but did you listen? No! I saw you last night, creeping around my family’s house with that stupid phone of yours – did you really think I wouldn’t notice you? I’m warning you to stay away or I will fucking end you, got that? ’

And she spits in his face, and he’s still left trying to make sense of the sting of cold liquid on his cheek when burning hands shove down the stairs. Concrete and human flesh clashes, the victor already predetermined, his body wracked with pain as he lands heavily, face down on the floor.

‘Last warning to stay away, you creep’, she shrieks before turning on her heel. There are no other students in the deserted hallway – not that anyone would come to help, not from his experience.

‘Are you finally going to tell me what’s going on, or do I have to piece your secrets together myself?’ he demands, when he scrapes himself off the floor, body aching from bruises in full bloom.

He can hear her breathe a sigh. ‘It’s a long story’ , she finally says.

‘Right now, all I have is time’ he answers drily. ‘Try me ’.

So she tells him about taking a part time job with Hana’s mom, the town’s florist for some extra cash. She tells him about the noises she hears whenever Hana’s mom steps out of the store, faint echoes of whimpers and sobs and broken cries for help, and how she puts two and two together when she sees the bruises on her classmate’s arms and legs. Her voice shakes when she tells him what she saw when she stole upstairs towards Hana’s bedroom one cloudy afternoon, how Hana’s dad gets off on hurting his teenage daughter, how she tried to report what she saw - but who’d believe the words of a teenage girl over the town mayor .

‘And now he’s taking it out on Hana-chan, which is why she hates me but I’m not going to let him stop me’, she tells him stubbornly and he can hear his past self gulp.

‘Are you insane? You shouldn’t get yourself involved. Tell someone, anyone. If you continue like this, you’re going to get yourself killed at this rate’.

‘Stop being a worrywart, Keiji! ’ she laughs, but the sound is hollow. ‘I’ll be fine, I promise’.

She’s back at the forest shrine, holding her hands together in prayer. The mangled remains of dandelions lie beside her knees, decapitated flower maidens sacrificed for wishes that they both know won’t ever come true.

‘I told you no one will listen to me, Keiji’, she cries, her face buried in her hands. ‘They all think I’m a little child who’s making up stories for attention ’.

‘There’s nothing you can do unless you have a record of it. Just keep your head down, or he’ll come after you next. How many times have I told you not to set yourself on fire to keep others warm? ’

Her head shoots up, and a feral grin ignites like wildfire on her face. ‘That’s brilliant, Keiji! ’

‘Wait no - that wasn’t meant to encourage you – that was meant to be metaphorical!’

‘If it all works out, it’s because of you! ’ she runs off, throwing her head back as she laughs, challenging the wind to catch her if it dares, before disappearing further into the woods.

‘You have got to be kidding me ’ he groans, kicking off the blankets to stare at his or well, her legs in horror. Dried blood is still caked into the deepest scrapes on her legs, and he can feel the ache from the bruises deep in his bones. ‘What on earth did you do?’

‘I may or may not have slipped when I was scaling Hana’s drainpipe’ .

He can feel the vein in his temple start to throb. ‘You what?’ he bites out.

‘They didn’t see me, I swear!’

He groans in despair this time, dropping his head in his hands. What is he supposed to do with someone so ridiculously obstinate?

‘If anything happens – ‘ she begins to say but he cuts her off before she can complete her sentence.

‘You promised me you wouldn’t do anything remotely risky and I refuse to let you put yourself in danger again. ’

She sighs, and worry flickers like a flame in his heart.

‘Fine – just. If anything happens – ‘

‘Which it won’t, not on my watch’ , he tells her firmly.

The smell of smouldering ash hits his nostrils.

His eyes fly awake. He’s back in the old wooden house again, but he chases his curiosity to the front yard, where he finds the letterbox razed to the ground.

‘A warning to stay out of his business ’, he hears her say, her voice determined. ‘But I’m not going to be spooked just by that. ’

‘You promised to be careful’ he shouts, properly angry this time. ‘Look at what you’ve done! ’.

‘I refuse to be a bystander to his madness’, she screams back. ‘I'd be tarred by his sins if I choose to do nothing about them. ’

His shirt is soaked in cold sweat when he stumbles out of bed, slapping his palms against his face to reassure himself that he’s not back in the dreamscape.

‘It’s not real. It can’t be real’, he tells his reflection firmly, but his mirror self only stares back at him.

In the morning, he skips class to make a trip back home, intent on leaving the omamori where it belongs, back in his childhood bedroom, so he can look forward to adulthood without these ridiculous dreams clouding his way. He stops by the florist on the way, as is his usual practice these days.

‘Flowers for your mother?’ the florist asks, when she opens the shutters to greet him, her first customer of the day.

‘Yes’, he answers shortly, and on an impulse he adds (because he needs something to fill the newly empty space on his desk) - ‘and maybe a houseplant. Something that’s relatively easy to take care of would do the trick.’

She hums in thought, fingers busy tying ribbons in the bunch of yellow roses for his mother. He doesn’t need to ask to know that the baby’s breath she includes is on the house.

‘What about rosemary?’ she suggests.

‘For remembrance?’ he asks, wrinkling his nose at the reference to Hamlet. The sudden thought of poor, mad Ophelia, floating dead in a stream, water lilies in her hair hits a chord that’s a little too jarring. ‘Um. Maybe a cactus might be better instead.’

He wonders if he’s imagining things, but he catches a flash of disappointment on her face before she replies easily - ‘sure!’, bending down to pull out a grumpy looking bulb full of thorns. Then she waves him off, his purchases packed in a neat brown bag. ‘Please come again!’

The cactus replaces the omamori, sitting neatly on his desk. It refuses to die even when he forgets to water it for weeks at a time.

Taglist:

@bongofrito

@forgetou @animeflower26 @kageyamakock @underrated-fruit-tarts-official

55 notes · View notes

ransomedrogue · 4 years ago

Text

Tales of Woe - Scenes from S1

oops, meant to get this out before Monday but minor delay due to editing!

this week - a scene to start the episode and one to end it...

1.3

Weller's emotional rollercoaster of a day started before the previous one had even ended - with a phone call just before midnight.

He hadn't been home all that long after wrapping up the Gibson case when his cell began to ring and he saw that it was an agent from Jane's detail. That alone flicked at his anxiety, making him flash back to the fear he'd experienced seeing her crashed car. Then, when the agent started describing what had happened at the safe house, Weller's blood pressure instantly shot through the roof and he almost walked out the door in just his PJs before he realized he needed to bring his badge and gun.

Rushing to the scene, Weller only managed to resist breaking numerous driving laws by constantly reminding himself that Jane hadn't sustained any serious injuries and was currently chaperoned by multiple FBI agents and cops. Yet he was still much too aware that those same agents had just let a guy sneak into her safe house and it was entirely possible that she would already be dead if that had been the man's goal.

Ice cold dread ran through Kurt at that thought. He could have lost her again, so soon after finding her. Even if they hadn't tested her DNA yet, he was sure that she was Taylor, somehow brought back to him after twenty-five years away.

Pulling up to the scene at an unreasonable pace, Weller saw that it was already getting busy with more agents arriving and the coroner showing up to deal with the body. He flashed his badge to get past the yellow tape and immediately started scanning until he saw Jane sitting on the couch, scowling at the paramedic trying to look into her eyes with a penlight.

"Ma'am, you've been hit hard enough to lose a tooth and your pupils are still dilated. I really recommend that you come to the hospital and get examined by a doctor."

Instead of arguing with the EMT, Jane saw that Weller was approaching and gave him an exasperated look. And suddenly he was transported back to a moment forgotten for so long that he hadn't known that it was still there.

In his memory Kurt was nine and crouching in front of an annoyed four-year-old, doing his best to put antiseptic on her scraped knees as she rolled her eyes at him and complained.

"It's not even bleeding, Kurt," she'd groaned, desperate to get back to the game they'd been playing. "You're such a worrywart."

Weller remembered the internal pressure he'd felt, babysitting his wild little neighbour. It had been a responsibility he took pride in and he'd hated having to tell Emma that Taylor had hurt herself again, attempting some stunt. Or, even worse, explaining that he'd stepped on Taylor's hand, causing her to fall from the tree. Not that Emma had ever blamed him for any of the bruises and cuts; instead, she'd always reassured him that it was all part of an active childhood. Still, he'd been the older one, the one in charge. So he'd always felt like it was his fault if Taylor hurt herself, no matter what anyone else said.

Looking at Jane now, he felt exactly the same way. He obviously couldn't protect her, not even with the power of the FBI behind him. And failing in his duty made him angry and anxious; overprotective to the extreme.

Kurt flashed his badge and told the paramedic that he could go, explaining that he would deal with Jane and make her see a doctor. The EMT exhaled in relief as he walked away from his stubborn patient and Weller took the man's place, standing in front of Jane, who was still seated on the couch.

She looked tired yet agitated, sitting there holding her swollen cheek. He could see that it was already bruising and Weller internally flinched as he imagined her getting hit hard enough to knock out a tooth.

"I knew him," she said immediately. "He's the man from my target training memory. The one that was outside the building before we almost got blown up. He knows me and he was following me. We have to find out who he is."

"Whoa, Jane," Weller replied, crouching down to look at her more closely. "Slow down. We will do everything we can to find out who that guy was and how he's connected to you. And I do want to know exactly what happened here. But first, tell me are you okay?"

Jane looked a little startled by his question, as if she'd completely forgotten about everything else while fixating on the dead man in her safe house. Then she glanced down at her hand on her cheek and wrinkled her nose.

"My face hurts. But otherwise I'm fine," she muttered.

"You still have to get checked out by a doctor," Weller said. "He must have hit you really hard."

Jane brought her hand down from off her jaw and gave him an irritated look.

"It's been a long day, Weller," she groaned. "I really don't want to go to the hospital."

Weller flashed back to earlier that day, having the same argument with her after she'd crashed the SUV. He'd pretty much guilted her into it then. But right now Jane sounded so tired and on edge that he didn't want to battle with her.

Yet it was clear she needed to see a doctor and at least get some x-rays of her jaw. So Kurt thought the issue through until he arrived at a solution that could placate both of them, even taking the time to figure out how best to present it to his recalcitrant patient.

"Well, you can't stay here," Weller finally said. "It's a crime scene now. We'll find you a safer place."

"And you need to be cleared by a doctor before you can come back out in the field with us," he added. "That's standard protocol."

Jane's frown deepened and she exhaled wearily. Weller could hear that he'd chosen the right selling point - she was desperate to stay involved with the case and be out on missions with the team.

"So either I take you to the hospital right now or you pack up some stuff and we go to the NYO. You can sleep in the medical bay until the doctor gets there in the morning to check you out."

Jane gave him a long look that indicated she knew exactly what he was doing. Yet, for once, she didn't argue, just giving him a tired shake of her head instead.

"Okay, I'll see the doctor at the NYO," she sighed.

Weller held back a grin at her begrudging response and offered her his hand. Jane gave it a long suspicious look before grasping it and letting him pull her up to her feet.

The drive to the NYO was silent, even though Kurt was full of questions. He desperately wanted to know everything that had happened that night but knew that it wasn't the right time to ask. Jane was quiet and obviously still shaken from what had happened; so Weller decided to leave his questions for the morning, after she'd been seen by a doctor.

As they neared the office, Kurt glanced over at Jane once more. He had thought her silence was due to her own head being full of questions too, or continued stubbornness about getting medically checked out. But it turned out that she'd just fallen asleep now that all the adrenaline had fled her system, her head lolled back against the headrest so the bird tattoo was perfectly exposed.

He had never before met such a vibrant, tenacious woman. And even though he had no proof yet, Weller knew in his bones that she was Taylor. He'd gotten her back; been given a second chance. And this time, he wasn't going to let anyone hurt her.

Again he glanced over at his sleeping charge, feeling a warm tickle spread through him as he realized how relaxed she now looked. All the tenseness she'd been wearing at the crime scene was gone as she murmured inaudibly and leaned in his direction.

Weller resisted the urge to reach over and brush a wayward strand of hair out of her face, forcing himself to focus on the road. Yet he still found himself looking to his right far too often, as if his eyes were magnetically drawn to her.

It was impossible but he believed it with every cell in his body.

She was Jane and she was Taylor.

And most of all, she was his to protect.

###

Jane's emotional rollercoaster of a day ended with two solid answers; yet her head was still full of questions as she stood there, clinging onto Weller's arm.

After all that arguing with Weller and Agent Reade's open questioning of her role in the investigation, it had been a major relief to be told by Mayfair that they had all supported her being armed and part of the team. Jane was sure that Weller had pulled rank with his agents to get that kind of unanimity but she hadn't even had time to really thank him for backing her before Patterson showed up and gave them the other, unbelievable, news.

She was Taylor Shaw. Weller's neighbour, who had disappeared without a trace twenty-five years ago.

Jane stared at him and he stared right back. She watched a wave of joy pass through Weller's expressive blue eyes and felt his elation ripple down her spine as well. Not only had they finally found out something concrete about her, it tied her intricately with Kurt and explained his name being tattooed on her back.

For a moment Jane wondered if it was normal, how much Weller could make her feel. She'd spent most of the day being furious with him for keeping secrets and refusing to let her participate fully out in the field. But then he'd insisted on going with her to the hospital, despite Agent Reade's vocal objections. Which had paradoxically made her feel both protected and nervous, because it was clear that Reade had touched on the truth.

Then, as soon as they were in danger, he had given her a gun without hesitation, fully trusting her to watch his back. Which had been a good thing, considering how close he'd gotten to having a full round of ammunition pumped into him, point blank. Even as it was, Jane had almost been too late - she'd seen the gunman's trigger finger moving just as she shot him dead.

The relief she'd felt seeing Weller alive was as fierce as any emotion she'd experienced yet. And then there had been a whole new set of feelings after he told her he thought she was his childhood friend, the little girl who went missing when he was ten. That revelation had finally put the entire day into perspective, completely flipping her understanding of his behaviour.

The argument with Mayfair. His sudden overprotectiveness. His blow up when she disobeyed his order and put herself in danger.

Weller had been under such immense personal pressure. She wondered how long he'd been thinking of her as Taylor. Clearly it had been influencing his actions all day.

Jane flushed a bit remembering how furious she'd been with him during his tirade about protecting her. At least she wasn't angry with him anymore. That hadn't felt good at all.

So much was running through her mind that Jane suddenly realized they'd been standing there for ages, just holding on to each other and staring silently. Patterson had left somewhere along the way and it now was just the two of them, with the mind-blowing piece of information hanging between them.

Weller's eyes were still teeming with an emotion she couldn't quite identify. She could see that he was fighting to contain himself now that his suspicion had been confirmed.

Jane flashed back to him telling her that she could trust him, that he'd been looking for her all his life. It made her feel warm and a bit tingly, to be to closely tied to Weller. But there was also pressure to being the girl he'd sought for so long - to mean so much to a man she barely knew, a man who already made her feel everything so strongly.

"Are you okay?" he asked, finally finding his voice.

"Yeah," she replied slowly. "It's just… how is this even possible?"

Weller shook his head, a look of wonder still in his eyes.

"I don't know," he said.

"But we will figure it out. We're going to find out what happened to you."

He sounded so sure but Jane was realizing that getting answers had only opened up an onslaught of new questions. If anything, being Weller's childhood neighbour made the whole situation even more confusing and implausible. Also, what had Casey meant by Orion? Was that a clue to where she'd been taken after being kidnapped at age five?

The wave of questions was about to engulf her when Jane felt a squeeze on her elbow and remembered that Weller's hand was still on her arm. Looking up at him, she suddenly felt drained from everything that had occurred in the past day. She'd barely gotten any sleep after the attack at her safe house and then had an extremely emotionally and physically taxing day.

"Hey," he said, studying her closely. "Do you want to talk about it?"

Jane shook her head. She needed some time to think before she asked him any more questions.

"Okay then, how about some food?"

She furrowed her brow at him, confused by the abrupt change in topic. But Weller was just giving her his usual warm concerned look, like he hadn't said anything out of the ordinary.

"I bet you haven't eaten all day," he added. "It's been over twelve hours."

Food was the last thought on her mind, especially after such an intense day. But, thinking about it, she realized that he was right on both counts. And then, precisely at that moment, as if her body was in collusion with Weller, Jane's stomach growled.

Weller grinned at her and Jane swore she even saw a twinkle in his eye as he slipped his hand down her arm until his fingers were entwined with hers.

"Well, that settles that," he said. "Let's go get something to eat."

"Weller," Jane muttered, unsure about his proposition. Going to a restaurant with Weller sounded both enticing and nerve-wracking. Especially with everything that had happened between them that day.

"It's fine, I'll order in later."

"No," he replied sternly. "We're going together and I'll take you to your new safe house after. We won't talk about any of this until tomorrow. But I want to make sure you eat some real food."

Jane's instinct was to argue and push off his concern. But then she remembered the sadness in his eyes as he'd told her about his little neighbour, how he'd been there the night she was taken.

Weller wanted to protect her. And as much as it was sometimes irritating, it also made her feel safer knowing that he was looking out for her so fervently. So maybe it was okay to let him care a bit too much, especially when it felt so good to have his fingers laced between hers.

"Okay," she sighed, giving his hand a squeeze.

She didn't yet know what to say, or how she felt about being his missing girl. But Jane did want him to understand how she was grateful for everything he'd done for her already and for how much he cared.

"Thank you," she finally said, offering him a timid smile. "For everything."

"I'm so glad you found me."

#blindspot #blindspot fanfic #blindspot rewatch #s1fic #i wrote this

27 notes · View notes