BlackSun: "Fish"
AJ_Talon
Well worn.
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Blacksun Fish
Blake wasn't oblivious to her own allure—she knew she turned heads. But that alone couldn't unravel the mystery of Sun's relentless interest in her. Sure, she was a Faunus, like him, but so were plenty of other women, many of whom had cast their own lingering glances his way. Yet Sun kept orbiting her, undeterred, no matter how quiet she stayed, how cold she acted, or how sharply her words cut.
It was a puzzle that gnawed at her, enough to make the words of her book blur as she sat alone in the hushed common room, the pages forgotten in her lap.
"Hey, Blake! I went fishing—you want some?"
Speak of the devil. Sun swung in through the window like he owned the place, a string of trout dangling from his hand and a grin splitting his face. Blake's eyes narrowed, her scowl a reflex.
He just held up the fish, unbothered, his smile bright as noon.
"…Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, the question spilling out before she could stop it.
Sun blinked, tilting his head. "What? I thought you liked fish?"
"I do, but…" She sighed, frustration knotting her voice. "Why do you insist on just…?" She shook her head, grasping for the right word. "Everything?"
"Everything?" Sun echoed. He hummed, scratching the back of his head, and hopped up to perch on a dresser—never sitting properly, always sprawling over furniture like a stray cat. His face turned thoughtful, surprisingly so, before he flashed her a softer smile. "Well… you needed help. You were all alone. And I could help, so I did."
Blake stared, incredulous. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," he said, nodding.
She scoffed, crossing her arms. "It can't just be that!"
"Well," Sun admitted with a playful wink, "it does help you're a pretty girl."
Blake fought a blush, her scowl deepening even as warmth bloomed in her chest. "So… you'd fight and possibly get killed all for a pretty girl?"
"If she needed the help, sure," Sun said easily. "I mean, I don't plan on dying, but if I had to? I would, for you."
Her scowl sharpened, irritation flaring. "I… I don't want you to die for me!" she snapped.
Sun's grin widened, bright and infuriating. "Great! That makes two of us. Neither of us wants the other to die. So, you want to eat this fish?"
Blake gaped, thrown by his effortless dodge. She shook her head, muttering, "You're just going to do it whether I want it or not."
"But I know you want nice, home-cooked fish," Sun teased, his smile knowing. "So I'm just doing what you want. You don't have to admit it. That's okay."
She grumbled under her breath as he sauntered to the kitchen. He filleted the trout with practiced ease, the sizzle of butter hitting the stovetop soon filling the air. He tossed together a simple meal—rice, veggies, nothing fancy, just what was in the cabinets. Team JNPR's open pantry policy was a quiet blessing she didn't voice thanks for.
Sun returned, setting down two steaming bowls of fish and rice that smelled like comfort itself. He grinned as she sucked in a breath, took the chopsticks he offered, and shot him a half-hearted glare.
"…I just happened to feel like having fish right now," she muttered, stabbing at the bowl.
"I know," Sun said, his grin never faltering.
She took a bite. It was simple, but damn if it wasn't delicious. Her eyes flicked to him. "…Thank you," she murmured, barely audible.
"You're welcome," he replied, beaming. "So… how about a date? I mean, technically, we've already been on one, so why not another?"
"That date involved us fighting mobsters and terrorists," Blake pointed out, arching a brow.
Sun's grin turned mischievous. "You didn't say it didn't count though, right?"
Blake fought a smile, felt it slip through her defenses, and hid it behind a piece of fish she lifted to her lips. "I suppose I didn't."
Blake wasn't oblivious to her own allure—she knew she turned heads. But that alone couldn't unravel the mystery of Sun's relentless interest in her. Sure, she was a Faunus, like him, but so were plenty of other women, many of whom had cast their own lingering glances his way. Yet Sun kept orbiting her, undeterred, no matter how quiet she stayed, how cold she acted, or how sharply her words cut.
It was a puzzle that gnawed at her, enough to make the words of her book blur as she sat alone in the hushed common room, the pages forgotten in her lap.
"Hey, Blake! I went fishing—you want some?"
Speak of the devil. Sun swung in through the window like he owned the place, a string of trout dangling from his hand and a grin splitting his face. Blake's eyes narrowed, her scowl a reflex.
He just held up the fish, unbothered, his smile bright as noon.
"…Why are you doing this?" she finally asked, the question spilling out before she could stop it.
Sun blinked, tilting his head. "What? I thought you liked fish?"
"I do, but…" She sighed, frustration knotting her voice. "Why do you insist on just…?" She shook her head, grasping for the right word. "Everything?"
"Everything?" Sun echoed. He hummed, scratching the back of his head, and hopped up to perch on a dresser—never sitting properly, always sprawling over furniture like a stray cat. His face turned thoughtful, surprisingly so, before he flashed her a softer smile. "Well… you needed help. You were all alone. And I could help, so I did."
Blake stared, incredulous. "Just like that?"
"Just like that," he said, nodding.
She scoffed, crossing her arms. "It can't just be that!"
"Well," Sun admitted with a playful wink, "it does help you're a pretty girl."
Blake fought a blush, her scowl deepening even as warmth bloomed in her chest. "So… you'd fight and possibly get killed all for a pretty girl?"
"If she needed the help, sure," Sun said easily. "I mean, I don't plan on dying, but if I had to? I would, for you."
Her scowl sharpened, irritation flaring. "I… I don't want you to die for me!" she snapped.
Sun's grin widened, bright and infuriating. "Great! That makes two of us. Neither of us wants the other to die. So, you want to eat this fish?"
Blake gaped, thrown by his effortless dodge. She shook her head, muttering, "You're just going to do it whether I want it or not."
"But I know you want nice, home-cooked fish," Sun teased, his smile knowing. "So I'm just doing what you want. You don't have to admit it. That's okay."
She grumbled under her breath as he sauntered to the kitchen. He filleted the trout with practiced ease, the sizzle of butter hitting the stovetop soon filling the air. He tossed together a simple meal—rice, veggies, nothing fancy, just what was in the cabinets. Team JNPR's open pantry policy was a quiet blessing she didn't voice thanks for.
Sun returned, setting down two steaming bowls of fish and rice that smelled like comfort itself. He grinned as she sucked in a breath, took the chopsticks he offered, and shot him a half-hearted glare.
"…I just happened to feel like having fish right now," she muttered, stabbing at the bowl.
"I know," Sun said, his grin never faltering.
She took a bite. It was simple, but damn if it wasn't delicious. Her eyes flicked to him. "…Thank you," she murmured, barely audible.
"You're welcome," he replied, beaming. "So… how about a date? I mean, technically, we've already been on one, so why not another?"
"That date involved us fighting mobsters and terrorists," Blake pointed out, arching a brow.
Sun's grin turned mischievous. "You didn't say it didn't count though, right?"
Blake fought a smile, felt it slip through her defenses, and hid it behind a piece of fish she lifted to her lips. "I suppose I didn't."
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