Vermouth caught the apple in mid-air on her way up to the kitchen's peninsula. “You're throwing apples at me now? I guess the shotgun would clash with the apron quite a bit.”
Meandering over, it became apparent the woman fell almost two inches shy in height to the man in the apron.
Glancing up to the nearing actress, Okiya caught the overt smugness in a mildly amused smirk, which brought an infuriating dimple to the woman's cheek.
“Isn't it theatre custom to throw edibles in follow-up to an ill performance.” Okiya stated.
“Ah, so the music didn't suit your taste, Rye. I see.” Vermouth's fingertips strayed along the edge of the countertop as if still following the grand piano's dulcet sway. Before the actress settled on a bar stool vis-à-vis, one leg absently crossed over the other, a mellow hum still under her breath.
Okiya observed the woman's unusual light-hearted demeanour. This was Sweet Vermouth, not the aloof and callous one he'd been acquainted with. The infuriating woman, who didn't shy away from standing atiptoe with his koibito-san. This time, however, Gin had taken a hollow point closer to heart. Almost succeeding in killing Vermouth in the process.
“No. It did, actually. But it wasn't the first time I heard you play.”
“Not the first?” For the better it might've been, she'd opted to sit abreast the peninsula beforehand. The thought of what Rye might've witnessed on that solemn evening she'd played Chopin's Nocturne only further stoked her unease.
“Eat up. I initially throw the apple for you to actually take a bite, seeing as you're hypoglycaemic. If the migraine is the to go by. You squint your eyes markedly as the light invades, and your movements are more deliberate. I can assure you, it's neither poisoned nor rotten.”
Vermouth glowered and gave a disparaging scoff at the not quite late FBI agent but took a crunching bite of out of the fruit nonetheless.
“I might've to reconsider.” Okiya's gaze strayed over to the kitchen door and the adjacent parlour. “On the Rotten Apple front, that is.” The sly bastard, he must've ascertained whether matriarch was well out of earshot. Yukiko's late castigation ostensibly still fresh on his mind, then concluded. “A tamanegi suits you just as well.”
Vermouth, who still manducated on the honeycrisp fruit, choked awkwardly on the latest bite she'd taken.
That woman's stroke of ill luck enriched Okiya's cup of Earl Grey considerably.
“It seems words can kill you just as easily, woman. If I'd known before, it would've saved me a round of bullets.”
But contrary to his words, Okiya opted to place another cup of Earl Grey in front of Vermouth, who scowled and in a bid to quell her late conundrum deigned and took a sip, endeavouring to preserve a soupçon of dignity.
A tad more forceful than strictly necessary, the actress clinked the cup back onto its plate. “I abhor you.”
“The feeling is mutual, I can assure you.”
“So a tamanegi. Do tell. To be bested by a woman. Surely it must've made you cry, Rye?” Vermouth crooned in low contralto and cocked her head, idly resting her chin in her palm.
Okiya scoffed. “I've known your worldview to be severely compromised, but that's twisting the truth rather grotesquely. I scarred you quite well in New York, Silverhair. Whilst our shootout at the harbour parted with you fleeing with tantei-bouya. And on a final note, I could've ended you on the rooftops of the Mōri Tantei Jimusho.”
“I know. Lucky me, that you abhor our dear Gin even more. I actually felt your bullets passing.”
“I remember you meandering down from the rooftops at your own leisure. It's fortunate that my finger is not itching to put a bullet between your eyes.”
“Ah yes, I see the moral high ground yawning.” The bitterness behind her words seemed almost astringent.
“Yawning indeed. But Gin, you're not. You've got the devil's luck. You almost died at his hand this time.”
“My my, the almost part, I see. Well, I'm sorry to disappoint, Rye. The kitten told me you and him had a little spat after Angel and I fell. Is he... dead?”
There's a strange depth to the actress's voice. One that gave Okiya pause.
“No. Although he shall be licking his wounds. He played a lone hand this time. I don't suppose That person would connive even his third in command such an agenda.”
You couldn’t fuck someone into happiness, but it did take the edge off with him. Being fucked and shown that you were a being worthy of care rather than just an object was not close to a cure, but damn, was it a reminder.
warnings: hurt/comfort smut, sad reader, soft gooey dabi, dom/sub undertones if you squint
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just some fluffy ass, feel good, but feel a lil sad type of smut. please 2 not attempt to fuck away your depression, just read and enjoy :’^)
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Dabi smelt like cigarettes, wood-smoke and cheap incense. It was an intoxicating cologne that you’d long been conditioned into thinking was the hottest smell in the world. Like, drop your panties and bend over the nearest surface and let him rail you without a single question asked.
Not that day, though.
Despite the fact you heard the apartment door open, you didn’t so much as greet Dabi. Your mind felt muddy and slow, addled with things you didn’t want to think about it. It was easier to burrow in blankets, clutching a pillow and pretend it would go away.
The bedroom door creaked open, light spilling in from the hallway.
“Aw, napping? Cute.” Dabi’s smoke-burned voice drawled. You were very awake, but you didn’t have it in you to tell him otherwise.
You felt the bed shift, one of his hands falling over your hip through the covers. The gesture was comforting, but it hardly helped to unknot the pressure in your chest. You rubbed your wet face on the pillow in your arms.
“Hi,” Your voice was small, muffled by the covers held over your head.
Dabi hummed, rubbing slowly at your waist and thighs. You twitched.
“I didn't think you were awake,” Dabi hummed, pausing. “Are you trying to sleep?”
“Nope.”
You hated how your words clipped. You really, really appreciated Dabi being there, you just didn’t know how to move or think correctly. You just felt like shit. You wanted to stew in your shit and self-hatred until it was a little more bearable. “Just feeling bad.”
Dabi wasn’t one to ask questions, not unless you started talking. For how much he monologued, he also could listen when given the opportunity. Though, you weren’t much for talking. Dabi had seen you like this before, and he knew enough of you to proceed somewhat gingerly.
His weight shifted from the bed, rustling sounding from around the room. You heard the unzipping of his boots, the heavy sound of his jacket dropping to the carpet. You sniffled. You hated being this pathetic, unable to face someone you were supposed to trust, but it was inevitable sometimes.
The comforter was peeled away, his familiar, strong scent nearly burning your nose. Part of your brain got at least a little suggestive, but most of it was just comfort. You sank deeper into the blankets.
Dabi slid in behind you, quickly rewrapping the two of you in the softness of the covers. The heat of his chest radiated through your back as you held your pillow tighter.
“This alright?” His voice was low against your ear, hot breath tickling your ear.
“Yeah.” You spoke softly, pulling your legs from their near fetal position to stretch out a bit more, “Sorry.”
You heard him half-scoff behind you, pressing the most gentle kiss against the side of your head, “You don’t need to apologize. I’m here.”
‘I’m here.’
It was a mutual sentiment. Demons attracted demons, that’s how things worked sometimes. Dabi had plenty of horrifying nightmares and many bad days just as you had your own moods. You both had learned some time ago, you just needed another person there to lean on, whatever that meant. Sometimes, the most important thing about helping each other was just being there no matter what weather raged unseen.
Dabi’s arm slowly curled over your waist, pulling you closer as new tears built in your eyes. It was subtle, but you could feel the soft squeeze of his scarred hand over your hip, dipping just under your shirt to touch your bare skin.
You didn’t say anything for a while, shaking the slightest bit and just letting yourself rewet the pillow in your arms. Dabi’s grip eventually drifted under your shirt to your midriff, his thumb rubbing little circles over your tummy.
“I just feel like garbage,” You finally broke the silence, voice trembling. “I know it’ll stop and get a little better at some point. I just want that point to be now.”
Dabi nuzzled into the back of your head, pressing languid kiss after kiss over the back of your neck, “That’s understandable. Shit hasn’t been easy lately.”
You sniffled, nodding and acknowledging the fact that circumstances could’ve been better. Bouncing back seemed like a far-off concept in the middle of your metaphorical, mental storm, right?
“It h-hasn’t,” You hated how weak your voice came out, how quiet and strained it was. “But like, you’d just figure I’d learn how to be better, you know?”
“Learning to cope is hard, most people suck at it and hide it,” Dabi reminded you, though the sentiment was only partially comforting. “I think you do a pretty good job.”
“How can you say that?” There’s an annoyed edge to your tone. “I’ve been hiding in bed literally under the covers since noon. I can’t even think about anything else other than how fucking awful I feel.”
Dabi didn’t like that answer too much, it seemed. A little grumble sounded in his throat, pads of his fingers digging into the flesh of your stomach.
“That’s how it works, you know that. You can’t get away from it and that’s why it sucks,” Dabi punctuated his words with an extra wave of heat from his body. “Besides, staying in bed all day is better than it could be. You could be being reckless, but instead—”
His fingers twitched at your sides as he left a quick smattering of kisses across your shoulders, hair, ears, and anything else he could reach. The feeling of his breath on the sensitive skin made a giggle burst from your mouth. You squirmed against him, pressing back into him and relishing in his warmth.
It was nice, how he provided some sort of reprieve.
“I get to find you, all snuggled up in bed, only in a t-shirt and panties? I don’t know, this is a treat.” Dabi snickered, pinching your thigh for emphasis.
Maybe his sexual appetites were a little misplaced when you weren’t feeling better, but his particular heat and touch were comfortable attention. You ate it up.
You gave him a hesitant smile, pressing your ass into his growing bulge, “I see where your head’s at, hm?”
“Can you blame me?” Dabi tilted his head to press a hot kiss to your jaw. “There’s nothing better than getting to spend time with you. I just want to help you feel better, whatever that may be.”
It was a rare moment of genuine vulnerability from him, but you’d take it.
You let go of your pillow, flipping to turn towards Dabi. His hands followed your motion, pulling you close again as you tangled your legs with his.
You hadn’t fully processed it before, but he also wasn’t wearing pants.
Looking up at him with shiny, gooey eyes, you cupped his jaw and rubbed at the gnarled skin.
“Thank you, for always being here, you know?” You avert your gaze you spoke, refusing to look at his bright eyes and instead tracing the contours and shadows of his collarbones through the wide neck of his long sleeve.
Carefully, he pulled your hands to his lips, pressing his lips to the meat of your thumbs, “Do you want me to ‘distract’ you?”
You rolled your eyes, “I knew it. Horny.”
“Like I said, ‘can you blame me’?”
Truth be told, a bit of a sexual distraction sounded nice. Very nice. It made the heat Dabi was emanating seem ever sweeter, something to fall into and ease your aches in more ways than one.
Dabi nudged your nose with his own, “Do you want me to help you feel good?”
“Please.”
It was the same small voice from before.
Dabi didn’t mind, he knew how to coax out better far more pleasurable feelings from you. Lazily, he dragged you even closer, latching your lips together in a breath of near-steam.
He licked into your mouth, unashamed in the hunger in his actions. You didn’t mind. It felt good to be desired, especially in the gooey way you knew Dabi would indulge you.
Your shirt was already rucked up, making it that much easier for him to press the fullness of his hand against the small of your back. You arched all for him and the show of it. Nothing more for how tired you were, but the small circles and mindless brushes of his fingers over your rapidly-heating skin were more than enough motivation for you to give into him.
Dabi liked a bit of control.
(A bit was an understatement, but he wouldn’t push you, not on your shittier days anyways.)
He tangled a hand into your hair, angling your head to better slot your lips together. The bareness of his knee pressed against your covered cunt. A small moan muffling into Dabi’s mouth as you rolled into his subtle actions. You heard a throaty chuckle vibrate from his chest.
He pulled away, his hand gripping your jaw with enough strength to warn you not to try and look away. The yolks of his azure eyes looked dazzling despite the darkness of the room as he met your gaze. There was a bit of mischief in their depths and the lazy motion of his knee against your clothed sex. You knew that Dabi wouldn’t push you, but he did know exactly what parts of you to push and pull to make you melt away in his natural fever.
His low voice washed over you, the tone itself alluring but his words dragging you deeper.
“Let me take care of you, princess, how about that?”
You were a puddle for him, sadness pushed back as you nodded desperately, “Please.”
Dabi’s thumb ran over your lip, a gentle smile with a playful lilt gracing his face.
Coaxing you into a state of softness for him wasn’t hard, but it must’ve been satisfying, based on the sweet smugness in his eyes.
He pressed two fingers against your lips as sweetly as one could, eyes going half-lidded, “Suck.”
You nodded, compliant and boneless. You parted your lips and let the fingers to slide back on your tongue. They pressed down, but not enough to gag you, just enough to make you drool over the digits.
The knee flush with your sex moved away, Dabi’s available hand pulling down the elastic waistband of your panties, helping you slide them off and kick them somewhere under the covers. It was all slow, no rushing or pressing in the way Dabi moved against you. It might’ve even been going too slow, but you weren’t in any place to do anything other than crave more.
With Dabi’s elevated and steadily rising temperature, your place under the comforter was growing increasingly warmer to the point of being stifling. Fucking around with Dabi always meant getting a bit too sweaty, but you didn’t want to get heat exhaustion before he had even properly gotten to your cunt.
You opened your mouth a bit wider to speak, but the narrowing of Dabi’s eyes cut you off.
“Good girls don’t speak with their mouths full, do they?” He asked with a tilt of his head. He spoke with the same smug grin as before, fingers almost pushing too far back in your throat.
You nodded, sniffling.
Dabi must’ve caught your cues to get some relief from the heat of the blankets and his sweltering body as he sat up, only to pull the blankets to the ground, sans a single thin sheet.
It felt a bit revealing, to be so suddenly disheveled and half-naked. You pulled the sheet up and over your legs as Dabi drew his fingers from your mouth. You sucked in a large breath, tucking yourself closer to him as he adjusted back down to the mattress.
He met your gaze as he sucked the fingers into his own mouth, pulling them away moments later with a percussive pop. The fingers slipped under the sheets, teasing along your hips and dipping to your thighs.
“Want me to fuck you like this, sweetness?” Dabi’s gravelly voice was sweet sin in your ears, washing over your like honeyed wine. “All nice and slow, show you how good you can feel?”
“Please.”
For one word, it held plenty of pleading it in.
You wanted nothing more than for his hand to keep on its bath, your thighs squishing together and shifting as slick and sweat wetted your thighs.
A husky chuckle and a kiss to the top of your head were all the confirmation you needed from him, but he gave you a bit more, “I got you, princess. Just keep being a good girl for me.”
Oh, you would be. Anything to get him to keep saying such sweet things.
You melted in him, wedging your face into him at his collar bones as he propped himself up on an arm.
Your gooey mind wanted him even closer, despite how perfectly tucked and nestled into him you were. You just wanted more. And, his shirt was certainly getting in the way. You pulled at the hem of it, helping Dabi pull over his head, dropping a few of your own kisses over the rough skin of his throat.
Dabi gently patted you back down, his palm drifting to lay flat against your sex, spit-soaked fingers grazing your slit. You keened, even at the barest contact. You muffled your moans against his chest, his soft chuckles sounding in tandem. The meat of his hand slowly circled over your clit, one finger dipping into your cunt without pause.
Your hips met his motions, desperate already and greedy, the syrupy pleasure his hot palms giving your clit slow circles just not being enough. Dabi must’ve noticed your insistence, spotting it in the way you clutched at his waist and tried to drag him even closer. With a kiss to your crown, he pressed another finger into your slick-soaked cunt, crooking the fingers just right.
You couldn’t help the warbling moan that broke from your throat as your nails dug into the unscarred skin of Dabi’s hips. Despite his smug laughter, he was quick to lavish you sweet nothings as he continued his slow, soft finger-fucking with a reverie that he would only ever let you feel and see.
“How does it feel, sweetness?” His lips were at your ear, gooseflesh rising on your arms.
“R-really nice,” you moaned, toes curling as hot pleasure runs you up and down. The chemical additive that was his voice was like high-proof whiskey on embers— it only stood to make you burn.
“You’re so good for me,” His words rumble from his chest to yours, his sweet heat spicing your mind even more.
Some days, Dabi might’ve made you grovel for touch like this. He liked pushing you, making you pliant and compliant with words and touch. Though, he wasn’t needlessly cruel. He was oddly fair for being a villain. Especially on your bad days, he gave what he could to ease your aches.
You took it greedily.
As your breaths got a little deeper, harsher, puffing against Dabi’s skin as you clung to him, Dabi’s bulge began to lightly rock against your leg, fully hard and undoubtedly aching in the same way that you were.
He wouldn’t pass up the opportunity to make you squirm, even in your mutually heated states.
“You want more, princess? Tell me what you want.” His fingers pulled out of you, a new rush of slick wetting your thighs.
“You— you know what.” You huffed, breathless.
Dabi mused for a moment, clicking his tongue. He shifted above you, pulling off his boxer briefs in the process.
“I suppose I do. You are nice and wet for me, huh?” He asked you, urging you flat onto your back. He dragged one of his fingers from your hole to your clit, swirling at the nub. You arched your back and cried for him, pressing into the wire of his scarred arms.
He sat back on his knees, pumping his cock slowly. In the faint light of the bedroom, you could see the balls of his piercings almost flush with his cock. Your mouth watered. The feeling of the hot metal against the back of your throat would’ve been heaven.
As you started to rise, tugging at Dabi’s hips for him to come closer, he just as quickly pushed you back down.
“Let me take care of you, sweetness,” He kept his voice so soft, it nearly hurt.
You nodded, settling back down onto the mattress and bending at the knees. Dabi was hardly reverent, not in the way he slicked his cock with preek, but somehow to the look of love he was giving you was.
You relaxed into the mattress, half-boneless before even being boned.
Dabi smiled, watching your complacency. He loved using smooth words on you to get you to rest. You just needed a bit of coaxing.
A lazy ball of spittle dripped from his lips to his cock. You watched, mesmerized as he slicked himself down, his thick cock contrasting with the burns over the rest of his body.
Dabi was very beautiful, though he’d never accept it.
He looked even prettier on top of you, easily bringing your legs up to rest over his shoulder. Angling your hips up meant he would reach the perfect parts of your inside, ram you just right.
He teased the head of his cock against your cunt, running it up and down with almost torturous slowness.
“Please,” It was another plea, something desperate from your lips as you gripped at his thin hips and squeezed.
He didn’t ask you for any more, just leaning down to give you soft kiss after kiss all across your cheeks and jaw.
“Gonna make you feel so good,” His voice shook as he slowly fucked into you, letting you adjust to the girth of his cock. It wasn’t a long wait, you were basically meant for it, your pussy long since memorizing even the specific feeling of the metal of his piercings. You could feel him shake against you, slowly exhaling as he filled you up.
There was a subtle burn, but nothing that didn’t bring you some pleasure. Dabi knew just the pace to go to keep you yearning and doughy in his hands, cock head brushing that sweet spot inside you as he bottomed out.
The urgent look you shot him and the whine that sounded from the back of your throat was more than enough for him. You didn’t need to beg to feel good.
As your breaths aligned, Dabi braced his arms around your head, nearly steaming breath puffing against your neck. You matched him, hands flying to his hair as he slowly pulled out of you, only to fuck into you once more.
It was something slow and unhurried, but not at all lazy. Dabi was simply taking his time, each cant of his hips deliberate and unrushed. With each thrust back to your cunt, you gushed around his cock as Dabi grinded and circled his hips. You fell into his motions, fully rolling your body and chest in time with his own.
It was a gentle dance, one that was accented by sweet words and light bites to your neck. All you could do what moan and cry with his gently burning motions, sputtering at each sweet phrase that drifted from his lips.
Your breasts rolled against the metallic heat of Dabi’s nipple piercings as he pressed so tightly to you. You could tell he was getting close, and you weren’t far off either, especially as he dipped a hand to roll over your clit to replace the barest friction that his thrust provided.
“You close, princess?” Dabi cooed into your ear, his cock jamming into your insides particularly hard. “Want to come for me?”
You nodded, a few babbling affirmations spilling from your bitten lips.
“Come when you need to, sweetness. Come on my cock like you do so well,” The command was all you needed to be sent over the edge.
His fingers sped up on your clit, honey-warm pleasure rolling over you as you crested over Dabi’s cock.
It was slow and almost unbearably warm as you tensed, arching your back and wailing into Dabi’s shoulder as he fucked you through your orgasm. He thrust into you harder, faster, losing rhythm just before seizing and spilling into you. Dabi was always quick to follow when he got you so melted. Who knew being nice turned him on?
All the while, your body curled for him, tension rolling and breaking as you clung to him and kissed him mindlessly. You both came down, groans, and cries falling away.
Finally, you both came to a stillness.
Dabi pulled back from your neck, meeting your sleepy gaze to rub at your cheeks and kiss some sweat from your brow, “How are you feeling?”
You couldn’t fuck someone into happiness, but it did take the edge off with him. Being fucked and shown that you were a being worthy of care rather than just an object was not close to a cure, but damn, was it a reminder.
“A lot better,” Hoarse voice gleaming with a smile. “But, I think I want that nap now.”
“Easy.” Dabi rolled to his side, never letting you get too far before pulling you close again.
The slowly cooling slick and cum wetting your thighs sticky was forgotten as your gooey mind allowed you some rest. Against Dabi’s still trembling form, his arms wrapped snuggling around your waist and idly rubbing circles as he was before, it was easy to fall into a light, contented sleep.
Ok since its on ur blog now, drabble meme #3 for miraxus??? You know i mean the sad/angsty one.
That’s a conversation we should’ve had when it still meant something.
.
.
“I love you.”
Laxus opened his eyes to a ceiling he didn’t recognize.
The window curtains were open and he couldn’t help the twinge of pain with the sudden clarity of the room. He turned sideways with the upcoming feeling of nausea rising in his throat and fought the urge to throw up.
Alcohol bottles and cigarette stubs littered on the floor, the faint smell of sweat and smoke lingered in the air. The lightning mage sat down with difficulty and held his throbbing head in his hands, taking longer than he should to situate himself.
Another night of wasteful drinking, another morning of hangover and regrets, and yet what hurt the most was remembering the look on her face when she realized he was getting out of her life for the second time, probably for good.
Laxus removed the crumpled sheets from his naked waist and struggled to stand up. It wasn’t fair to her, to lose something that had never existed, to long for something that could never be. It wasn’t fair to him either, but he’s always been a shitty person and what did it matter if he didn’t get that happy ending anyways?
He pulled his trousers from the floor and with shaking fingers searched its pockets for his heart medication.
How could he ever explain to her that Tartaros had left him a dead man walking, that he wouldn’t be a part of her future because he didn’t have one. That he couldn’t give her everything that she deserved, but he could avoid what she didn’t, which was watching him slowly decaying in morphine and agony. That she should stick to her family until the guild reopened – he knew in his failing heart it would – and not waste her love on a doomed man.
His pill was hard to swallow, his ribcage felt like it was being teared apart and scorched into flames, and yet what hurt the most was those aquamarine orbs begging him to stay, begging him to hope.
Laxus got dressed and turned to look one last time at the figure still lying in bed, her raven black hair spread in the pillows like a fan, hiding her freckled skin and tanned face.
As if sensing she was being watched, the woman slowly raised her head and bright blue orbs stared at him.
@crybabydraco prompted: minewt + “You’re the bartender and you catch someone slipping something into my drink”
"Yeah, sorry, this guy's not having more drinks tonight."
Newt stares at the bartender who swipes away the glass from under his nose and cannot believe his fucking ears. The really handsome guy who just got him the drink from the female bartender thirty seconds ago looks confused and asks what the problem is.
"I cut him off half an hour ago, he's too pissed."
Newt definitely hadn't been cut off half an hour ago, he hadn't even been here half an hour ago so it doesn't make any sense. The look on the bartenders face is stern, and Newt sighs, he'll definitely not get the drink back because it's on its way down the drain. Handsome face starts arguing that he'd actually bought that drink and that he should get his money back, and he doesn't care when Newt says it's alright, it doesn't matter.
"Sir, we have strict regulations and I cannot allow you to serve drinks to a man I have cut off, my co-worker believed the drink was for you, and not blondie over here because she would've told you "no" too. He ain't getting more and there's nothing more I can say about it."
Handsome but obvious douche doesn't seem to care that that's all of it because he continues to argue and Newt, who had at first not had a single problem being approached by this man, is now feeling rather uneasy in his presence.
When the first racial slurs rolls off his tongue, Newt loses all interest and the bartender - who keeps his face in better check than Newt does - only tells the man that there's no discussion to be had, if he wants to buy "blondie" a drink, he has to do it somewhere else.
Eventually, the whole situation turns into a scene and Newt doesn't like the attention it's drawing towards him because he literally wants nothing to do with this. He wanted a drink and a chat and a quick fuck, is that too much to ask?
The douche is escorted out in wild protests only a minute later and Newt is too speeded by the whole thing that he doesn't know what else to do than to keep sitting by the bar. The bartender gives him a look as he pours another drink and then surprisingly puts it down in front of Newt, pushing it slightly forward.
"Thought I was cut off?"
“Only from roofie-laced drinks," the bartender, "Minho" his name plaque says, with a serious look. It takes Newt a second to really understand what he was just told and when he does, he stares at the door from which the creepy fuck who tried to drug him was dragged out of mere minutes ago.
"He spiked it?" Newt asks even if it's obvious. The bartender nods. Newt chugs half his drink in one go because fuck fuck fuck this was not the night he'd imagined, this was not the "what if"-anxiety he had prepared for. Fuck.
"You need another?" Minho asks when Newt puts down the pint empty. "On the house." Newt nods, fully intending to pay for himself but another drink he needs. He just can't seem to be able to catch a break these days and when he finally allows himself to go out and enjoy it, someone has to fuck it up. How is this his life.
"Hey," Minho says after serving another few customers. Newt looks up and he doesn't have to hear the "are you alright?" that is written upon the other man's face. Newt smiles through his rapid heartbeat.
"I'm fine," he says. "Thanks to you." The bartender doesn't look to be the sort of person who blushes, and yet he does. Newt thinks it suits him.
"Just doing my job," Minho says shrugging.
"Thank you."
"Don't mention it."
"I'll probably come back here every night just to mention it."
“In that case, I'm not gonna complain." There's fleeting grin on his face and Newt returns it fully.
Newt takes his leave shortly after, his anxiety too high to pick someone up even if being in the arms of another person would surely ease it, but as he places a few bills on the counter, he sneaks his business card in between them, hoping it will find its way to the right bartender.
By the phone call he receives the next day, it surely did.
The car door fell closed and drowned out the lively din of Buroku-Chūōbyōin's underground parking lot. The actress sunk back into the seat as tiredness weightened on her bearing, far more than she'd care to admit.
“Ne, Vermouth, the world is no stage of yours now, isn't it?”
“Ara, little Holmes. I seem to have left my poise and panache in Beika, along with my Colt Government and five inch Louboutins. It clashed horrible with Yūsaku's Belstaff tweed coat and overall cockiness.” The ‘A shared family trait, as it may seem, dear.’ was left unsaid yet not lost on his son.
With an air of petulance the bouya scowled and slumped back into the bench seat.
Reaching out to the sulking detective boy, the elder woman tousled his hair up even further. Only to have her hand slapped away amid a surly grumble. “Sheesh! Ano on'na... .”
The bespectacled gazes of both FBI agents strayed in unison into the rearview mirror to watch the woman and the bouya in the back.
In the passenger seat of her superior' s mercedes, Jodie's lips quirked minutely, but schooled back into a hard line in the next.
-後程-
“You should take the mask off. You're still running a slight fever after all. Yukiko-obāsan always complains, how it makes it harder to breathe underneath. But I guess, you're more used to it, than she is, ne?”
This dryly dished out bon mot was an overt jab at her predilection to hide beneath masks. The little one had grown much too cheeky for her liking. Although she had to concede him a point, she was quite uncomfortable beneath. But did she truly want to lift the mask, with Black being there?
“These masks of yours, you can no longer remove them without removing some of your own skin, don’t you, kawaii-ko?”
Absinthe's words made her skin crawl anew.
“Fine.” she conceded. A fine manicured hand wandered to her neck, deft fingertips were sliding up just beneath the curve of her chin to unmask with habitual expertise.
As the trusted requisite fell, the actress couldn't eschew but breathe a content sigh. An sidelong glance to her little Holmes wasn't even needed to ascertain smugness was abound. Not that his ego was in dire need to be panegyrized. 'You're your mother's child, aren't you?' Fondness crinkled the corner of her eyes in a certain softness that stole away from hardened aloofness.
Black was involuntary drawn to the whole scene unraveling in the backseat as the actress ripped off the mask, and the woman who reappeared beneath, was no older than Jodie herself.
Three days ago as he had first laid eyes on the actress he'd last seen in person almost twenty years prior, he dared not to let his gaze waver in fear of what he would be met with, if her face was the one he would seek out. Not after seeing the carnage the .hollow-point had wrecked as it had torn into the cavity above her heart nor the gory trench just shy of her carotid.
To him, the woman Jodie had held onto, might've been closer to death than life.
Thereafter, he'd been preoccupied to ascertain she would not be killed whilst recovering. And yet, an attempt at her life had been made and almost successfully executed as Jodie briefed him in, on what had transpired the night before.
And now, the same woman whose life seemed stuck in a broken clockwork, was living on borrowed time.
Vermouth caught Black`s gaze in the rearview mirror. Stoic green met conflicted amber for a mere moment, then the actress averted her eyes to glance outside the passenger side window. The dull hubbub of the nightlife outside, passing her by with a strange kind of estrangement at large.
If this world was none but a stage to her, she would gladly take her exit through the wings. An all too well known world-weariness settled, a tiredness far beyond morpheus reach.
-後程-
Three kōsokudōro later, the woman and the bouya in the backseat were fast asleep.
“Oh my…” Jodie had to chance a double take as she peeked over the her seat back. A pinprick of curiosity alighted at the lull in conversation between cool kid and Vermouth.
The bouya had leaned into the actress, whilst sleep had claimed him. Ostensibly quite content there with his glasses slightly askew.
But it was the elder woman's hand, laid shy of the little tantei`s temple, which gave Jodie pause. Tousled strands stood in evidence, where not long ago Vermouth`s fingers must've carted through, but now lay idle amid the bouya's unruly fringe. This sweet gesture of hers, held such a stirringly maternal sentiment, Jodie had to avert her eyes as the mirror to the past crack'd from side to side. Made even more palpable by the woman untouched by time itself.
The grief lay so raw now.
-後程-
21 years ago. Starling Residence.
The little girl tugged her knees up to her chest and nestled her cheek against their caps.
All huddled in upon herself, for a time she didn't stir, but thereupon trembled with a minute shiver, soon to be superseded by another and onto the next, till her small frame shook under the weight of held in sobs.
Her knuckles strained white against her stuffed jackrabbits rich brown fur. A threadbare lagomorphian solacer, whose velvet nose nuzzled up to the palm of its owner. Now became bearer and witness as Jodie's quiet sniffles carried out into the night.
The door to the nursery slightly left ajar, yawned open and a soft tread fell on carpeted floors.
“Little Miss.” a warm feminine lilt inquired softly.
Halting mere steps before the huddled up child, the elder woman crouched to met the littlest Starling at eye level. A gesture further accompanied by the rustling of silk and a faint trace of wintersweet.
Without lifting her gaze, the little girl know who had come. It was a woman she'd met as the fiancée of a kindly Englishman, who'd been a dear friend to her father, even back then. A year had worn on since that day of winters past, and his fiancée likewise had proven a trusted friend to her family.
Tucking a wayward strand of platinum blonde hair behind her ear, the elder woman observed the child before her with overt worry.
“Do you mind if I stay?” she queried genially, careful not to impose her presence onto the toddler.
The little girl shook her head, tousled honeyed curls were spilling to the tip of her chin as a pair of azure eyes shyly peeked through.
“Please.” a word of plea and a bright-eyed appeal for her to remain.
The elders voice softened until it sank to a mellow cadence. “Then I shall.”
Post Season 2. It takes ten weeks for her to find her way home.
Inpired by Julie Fowlis’ “Into the Open Air”.
It takes Clarke two days to find her way back to the woods just outside of Camp Jaha. She spends theentire day watching Bellamy. Occasionally he looks in her direction as if he knows she's there watching him. Please come inside.
Clarke turns away from him and walks to a small cave she found her first day out. She can't go back yet. Can't face the disappointed look her mother gave her when she found out Clarke had known about the missile that took out TonDC. Can't face the pain in Jasper's eyes when he realized Maya hadn't made it, Clarke had killed her. We did it together. You don't have to bear this alone.
Lincoln finds her five days later. He doesn't talk about her friends, doesn't mention Jasper, Monty, Octavia, Raven, or Bellamy. Doesn't ask her to come back. He teaches her which plants are eatible and which have healing properties.
He comes back every few days and teaches her something new, eventually teaching her how to hunt. He tells her the inhabitants from Camp Jaha won't come near her part of the forest. He told them there were traps littering the area. He teaches her how to avoid the traps.
She starts spending more time watching her friends. Watching Bellamy. It's two weeks after Mount Weather that she sees them laugh again. It's short, but it's something and she knows they are healing. I bear it so they don't have to.
A few days later she bumps into some grounders while she's hunting. She introduces herself as “Clarke kom Skaikru” like Lincoln taught her and is greeted warmly. The next day one of the women from the village comes to her cave bringing her furs to sleep in and to wear. She braids Clarke’s hair before she leaves.
Every day for the next week another grounder comes with a gift or some insight on how to survive in the woods easier. Her favorite is a woman named Jana that teaches her how to shoot a bow. The first weeks is awful. Jana keeps Clarke focused by talking about her son who is also learning to shoot. He comes by with her sometimes and makes Clarke look ridiculous on the bow.
Lincoln stops coming. She doesn't stop watching Camp Jaha. The circle's under Jasper's eyes go away. Those under Bellamy's don't.
A month after Mount Weather she sees Jasper holding hands with Harper. She smiles slightly, then goes back to practicing shooting with a bow. Jana says if she keeps up they way she's going, she'll be able to compete with others her age in a few months.
Six weeks after Mount Weather Octavia shows up while she's watching Camp Jaha and demands she return. Clarke shakes her head and leaves. She hears Octavia trying to keep up with her, but manages to
lose her by climbing a tree. She hears Octavia curse her and she heads back to her cave. Jana is waiting for her with a smile. “You're starting to become on of us.” Clarke swallows the lump in her throat and goes back to training. She stays away from Camp Jaha for a week.
Two months after Mount Weather Lincoln shows up again. He tells her her friends miss her. That Jasper has forgiven her for Maya. That Monty and Bellamy also bear the guilt of what happened in Mount Weather. That Raven is starting to gain back the use of her leg. That Octavia is angry with her for leaving Bellamy alone. That Bellamy has kept his promise to take care of her people, but that he isn't taking care of himself. When he leaves, Clarke cries for the first time since Finn's death.
Clarke starts watching Camp Jaha again.
Two and a half months after Mount Weather, Raven shows up at her cave. She starts packing Clarke's stuff, refusing to listen to Clarke's protests. “He needs you.” Clarke sighs and helps Raven pack. They walk back to Camp Jaha in silence. Clarke pauses just out of sight of the camp.
“You come back every day to watch us.” Raven says. “Just come inside.” Please come in.
Clarke grits her teeth and steps out into the open. There's no one around but the guards at the gate. “Most everyone is out hunting.” Clarke nods and follows Raven to the med bay where Abby is setting up stations in anticipation for the injuries the hunting parties will bring back. She freezes when Clarke walks in before dropping everything and throwing her arms around her daughter. “I could use some help. Someone always gets hurt.” Clarke smiles, remembering their first few days on Earth. The constant injuries: Jasper's being the worst.
It only takes a few hours before the first person is brought to medical. Miller gets carried in by Monty and Jasper. They almost drop him in surprise when they see Clarke standing next to her mom. As soon as Miller is seated on the table so Abby can treat the gash, Jasper and Monty launch themselves at Clarke grinning widely. They both start talking over each other in excitement so that Clarke can't make out anything their saying. Abby sends all three of them out of the med bay so she can have quiet while she fixes Miller's leg. “I'm glad you're finally home, Clarke.” Clarke smiles at him wishing she felt like she really was home.
Jasper and Monty drag her to the fire and start telling her stories of the last few months. More and more people come back from hunting and join on the stories, no one making a big deal over Clarke's sudden appearance. Octavia hugs her then rounds up a group to start skinning the animals they've brought back.
It's dusk when the group around the fire goes silent. She can feel his eyes on the back of her head, but can't bring herself to turn around.
“Clarke?” his voice sounds just like she remembers. She stand up so quickly her head spins. Before she can see straight again, his arms around around her. She buries her face in his neck, finally feeling like she is home. “Please don't leave again.” the words are muffled against her shoulder and she nods, a silent promise to stay at this side.
