love ft. prompts
Everything was fine, everything was fine but why was it so not fine?
Blake gripped the sides of the sink, her tea cup overturned on the floor next to her, spilt tea around the floor, splashes on the countertop from where she tried to pour it. Everything was fine - so why wasn’t she? It’d been well over three years since everything had gone down, three years of rebuilding and therapy and learning how to talk about things instead of run, and the others were making tangible progress, they’d all made great strides in periods between panic attacks and tremors, and it just hurt to see how others were moving on, with few drawbacks - while she stayed behind.
No matter how she tried, she was always behind.
She hadn’t noticed but she’d stepped back, crushing the teacup under her slipper, the pieces digging into her foot, drawing blood, spreading it across the floor, the blood mixing with the tea, the watery pink leaving trails across the floor as she stumbled back a few more steps.
All she managed to do successfully was push the shards deeper.
A strangled, choked breath left her throat, the diluted blood bringing back memories best left buried, memories of what seemed a lifetime ago, of frantically washing scraps of white and purple in a melted pile of snow before pressing them to a rapidly paling gold, tears streaming down her face as blood mixed with water, much like now, as red ran over her fingers, as gold froze -
Blake’s back hit the bottom cabinet - she hadn’t noticed when she’d fallen - and she turned, scrambling to her feet, ignoring the sharp stabbing of pain she felt, as she fled from the kitchen, running from demons that only she could see.
She bumped into the coffee table when she was making her way through the living room, the books on it crashing to the floor as she raced to her room, to Gambol Shroud, she should have never let it go, now here she was unarmed, unable to defend herself or anyone -
She made it inside her room and immediately dove for the box in the back of the closet that held her weapon, her protection, only to be stopped short by a pair of arms encircling themselves around her shoulders and pulling her back.
Without looking Blake started fighting. At first she was wildly swinging, just trying to make contact, but then she remembered what Yang had taught her. She threw her head back, stomped down as hard as she could, and bit whatever she could.
“Blake! BLAKE!”
She slowed her attacks, the voice was familiar but she couldn’t place it. She shadowed her way out of the hold and turned to see Yang in front of her. Or was it Yang? Maybe it was Neo-, no wait, Neo couldn’t talk, but Emerald, she could be projecting onto someone, she needed to leave she needed to find Yang-
“Baby it’s me. Can you not recognize me?” There was a note of pain in Yang’s voice, but Blake needed to be sure before she let the possibly fake Yang get any closer to her.
“You’ll need to prove that, and then maybe I won’t kill you where you stand.”
“Sweetheart, it’s me. Um, your favorite book is ‘A Man With Two Souls,’ though you’ll never admit it, your favorite tea is jasmine with a spoonful of honey, Gambol’s in the back of the closet with Ember - I don’t see her on your back honey - and we’ve been dating for two years in three weeks.”
Blake’s eyes narrowed as she stared Yang down, almost but not quite convinced that it was her.
“I’m going to need more than that.” Blake started reaching for her scroll to dial Ruby and Weiss, only to freeze when she didn’t feel it in her pocket.
She must have dropped it on her way over from the kitchen.
Almost-Yang took a step towards her and Blake took another step back. She wasn’t convinced, and until she was, she wasn’t letting this stranger impersonating her love near her.
“Fine. Um, the necklace around your neck, the burning heart and the belladonna flower, I got that for you to represent us, so you could always have something that clearly reminded you of me, like that burning heart tattooed on your ribs right under your heart, just like I have a belladonna tattooed on my ribs under mine.”
Yang slowly moved her hands towards her t-shirt, making no sudden moves, but Blake didn’t waver from her stance. Yang pulled it up and her bra a tad so Blake could see the belladonna tattoo.
And that convinced her. They never told anyone about the tattoos, Blake had begged her not to tell anyone about them, spilt her mind about how no matter how much time passed, the threat of Yang once again being an illusion and then cruelly ripped from her was too much to bear.
Blake let herself sag, and as the adrenaline began to slow its path through her veins, she felt herself slipping. Her world was spinning, small, her breaths, uneven, short.
Maybe she’d been drugged.
She felt a strong pair of arms encircle her, and before her mind could run away with her again, her nose filled with the scent of patchouli and citrus and she felt herself relax, even against the theories her brain was spitting out faster than she could keep up with.
“Shit, baby girl your bleeding.”
Oh. That explained her blurry vision. Maybe she hadn’t been drugged.
“Sweetheart, how long have you been bleeding?”
“I don’t...I don’t know, a while I guess.”
“Shit, what’s - oh my gods, Blake this is your teacup. Shit you’ve been bleeding since you went to make tea? Baby, that was almost twenty minutes ago, I-”
Yang carefully picked her up and laid her on the bed, her legs hanging off of it awkwardly.
“I’m gonna go get the first-aid kit. It’s in the bathroom right behind me, okay sweetheart?”
Blake nodded, tilting her head at Yang almost as if she was actually seeing her now. Her hair was wet, and she was wearing one of her oversized bedtime shirts with her boy shorts, and oh, she must have been fresh out of the shower when Blake had come barreling into the room.
Yang walked slowly into the bathroom and Blake watched her go, resisting the urge to reach for her foot. Or look at it. In her current state, she knew looking at it could easily send her back into hysterics.
And that wouldn’t be good.
Yang came out of the bathroom holding the kit, her face betraying nothing of the damage Blake had undoubtedly caused to her foot. She could just hope she wouldn’t need stitches.
Scooting the bench at the foot of the bed back a bit, Yang sat down and propped Blake’s foot in her lap as she popped open the kit and snapped on a pair of gloves. Blake raised an eyebrow at that, but Yang just shrugged. Blake went to sit up but fell back onto her elbows as her head spun.
“Don’t try that baby. Just let me take care of you, alright? I’ll patch you up and then we’re gonna talk for a bit and you’re gonna tell me what’s wrong over a cup of tea and maybe some brownies, okay love?”
“Y-yeah, that sounds - ahH - lovely.”
Blake squeezed her eyes shut and tried to stifle the groan that left her lips as Yang used a pair of tweezers to pull out the larger shard of the teacup. There was a series of smaller stabs as Yang removed other pieces of the cup, and Blake did her best to just focus on her breathing, doing her best to try and keep calm and from moving, as to not make Yang’s job harder.
She shouldn’t even have to do this, but Blake had been weak, had lapsed, and here they were.
“Hmm, it’s deep, and - deep breath for me - I’ll put stitches in once I finish stemming the bleeding a bit, if that’s alright with you, sweetie? We can go to a hospital or a urgent care if it makes you feel better-”
“No.” Blake interrupted firmly, feeling her palms sweat at the thought of a small square of sterilized white, of machines, of ghosts that roamed the hallways.
“Alright that’s fine, but this is going to hurt. I’m going to numb it a bit alright?”
Blake just nodded, too busy focusing on her breathing to trust her voice to give a verbal answer.
She felt a prick as Yang numbed the area, and after a minute or so she felt Yang shift and a slight tug on her foot as Yang quickly and with a practiced ease made a row of tiny stitches. She heard Yang dig around in the first aid box as she fell onto her back, arms splayed out to the sides as she stared at the plastic stars and string lights adorning their ceiling.
Yang started to wrap the gauze around her foot, looking back at her a couple times to make sure she was still awake, before finishing it off.
“I’m going to put this back, love. Stay awake for me?”
“Yeah, I’ll be here when you get back sunshine. It’s not that far of a trip.”
Yang smiled one of her smiles, those smiles where she knows something you don’t, and Blake let herself be drawn in. She looked back towards the stars on the ceiling, busying herself with counting them as she waited for Yang to return.
She felt herself drifting off but then Yang came back into the room, a tray in her hands, a plate piled high with brownies and two steaming cups on it. She carefully set the tray down on the bed near Blake, before climbing in next to her.
Blake let out a squeak when Yang lifted her into a sitting position, helping her find a position that wasn’t too uncomfortable on her foot, but so that she wouldn’t spill her tea on herself and add burns to her list of injuries for the day.
Blake took one of the brownies and bit into it, reveling in the richness of it before meeting Yang’s eyes.
Though the woman didn’t say anything, her eyes asked question after question.
“Are you okay? What happened? How can I help? Let me in, please. Don’t lock me out. I’m here. I love you. I love you.”
It was the uncensored affection in her expression that caused Blake to down the rest of her tea - surprisingly little of it left - and set it back on the tray. Yang raised an eyebrow, waiting.
Always waiting, never rushing. Always patient, letting her lead, go at her pace.
It was still sometimes unreal to Blake, even though they had been together for years at this point.
Yang took the tray and placed it on the bench before crawling to the top of the bed and shimmying under the covers.
She held them open, and motioned towards Blake.
“Join me?”
Blake nodded once and crawled over, wincing a bit when her foot snagged on the covers but quickly made herself comfortable on Yang’s chest, placing her head over her heart, the steady beat a comfort to her. Yang draped the covers back over them, chuckling when Blake shifted so her feet were between Yang’s legs.
“Ah, damn, popsicle toes strikes again! I’m wounded baby, how will I survive?”
Blake giggled, the familiar jab a comfort.
“Maybe I can make it up to you-?”
She took one of Yang’s hands and gently guided it to her ears, before carefully letting it rest, trying not to move around too much.
She looked up and caught Yang’s look of love and amazement, and had to look away at the sheer amount of affection the woman was emanating.
“Wait, really? Blake, you’re letting me touch them right now?”
“Yes, you can, but if you keep asking, I’m taking my offer back!”
“Yes, ma’am.”
Yang shut up but instead began moving her hands, one tracing mindless repetitive patterns on Blake’s back and the other carefully scratching, tracing, and rubbing on Blake’s cat ears. She melted into Yang’s embrace, feeling the woman hold her a bit tighter.
“Feeling gay yet, kitty?”
“What the hell Yang.”
“Get it? Like, happy gay, because like we’re dating, so I’m hoping you’re the other gay too-”
“Amor, I’m the one who writes. I know. It was terrible, but adorable.”
Yang grinned, before her face melted into something more loving - domestic almost.
“I love you. I know I don’t say it much out loud, but, Blake Belladonna, I love you.”
Blake felt her eyes water and clutched Yang’s shirt tightly as she buried her head in her chest, the sensation of Yang’s hand on the back of her head holding her close just - sending her.
The love was palpable, and it was thick. And Blake was perfectly content to drown in it.
“I dropped my cup earlier.” she started, the words thick and heavy.
“Mhm.”
Yang made a noncommittal noise, making Blake continue.
“And then I remembered trying to patch you up, and then there was blood mixing in the tea and-”
Yang went back to drawing senseless patterns on her back with her fingers, each more sure and determined. Her other hand gently scratched at her ears, drawing her out of her spiral.
“I was scared. I couldn’t see you, I thought, I thought I’d lost you again! I just, I never seem to make any progress while all of you are growing by leaps and bounds and I’m just so far - behind.”
“Sweetheart, I’m flattered you think we’re doing great, but it’s not that big a difference. I still have tremors and nightmares, Jaune still has bouts where he flies into a frenzy if he can’t see one of his teammates. Nora’s still on the fritz sometimes, while Ren still has moments that could rival an Apathy. Weiss struggles to talk through things, and not summon things when surprised, and Ruby, Ruby still panics when she can’t reach Oscar or Penny, or when she sees someone that looks like Cinder or Salem-”
“We all panic when we see someone that looks like Salem, Yang.”
“Okay, valid point, but still. And Oscar still has moments where he forgets its just him in his head now. He still hates heights and large birds.”
Blake looked up at her, but Yang’s gaze was elsewhere, remembering.
“We all have our struggles, some of us just struggle a bit more. And you’ve had to work through more than most of us. It’s perfectly valid.”
Blake snuggled deeper into Yang, her fears pushed away for now.
She knew she was in the arms of love personified, and that she’d protect her. She knew she was safe, and her brain accepted that for now at least.
But she had people near her that she’d keep fighting back for against those fears for everyday.
And maybe one of these days, she’d beat them for good. All with the woman she loved and her family - both found and biological - standing with her.
It was a good day to love and be loved.