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drabbles-of-writing · 3 years

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Coming Home

AO3

third owl fight attack! This one’s prompt was “Hunter and Luz being siblings”, and I kinda ran with it

Summary: Saying that Hunter was worried for Luz would be an overstatement. He wasn't worried, he was just...vaguely curious. He knew that she'd take some time in the human realm, to be with her mother, but...well, it'd been almost two weeks, and nobody had heard a single thing from her. So, really, breaking and entering was an entirely reasonable reaction.

. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

Now, Hunter knew, on some level, that Luz would be in the human realm for a while.

To be fair, he hadn’t had much time to think about it, what with everything going on. There was the Grimwalker revelation, which was also a kind-of clone revelation, and Luz offering an outstretched hand, and sitting on the ground in the human realm with the portal flickering and pulsing angrily, the dust settling as he held his uncles broken mask in his hands--

He’d been more than a little preoccupied, to say the least.

And Luz had gone through the portal the second it had all finally calmed, when there was nothing left to fight, with goodbyes he couldn’t remember. He wasn’t sure exactly when, everything had gone pretty numb by that point.

He just knew that after the first two days, when he was finally dragged out of his miserable wallowing in ditches by a very exasperated palisman and Owl Lady, Luz wasn’t there.

The others noticed her absence and the slight hole she left, he knew they did, but they never really commented on it. What with Bonesborough falling apart in a literal and metaphorical sense, everyone was kinda busy trying to patch all of it up. Like dealing with that one demon who kept talking about ancient magic, who was apparently the small rat demon's dad. And making sure Kikimora stopped escaping prison for five minutes. And dealing with the other Coven Heads. And apparently there was some people mad that the old wild witch ways were coming back--

Nobody really had the time to wonder about Luz off in the human realm, seeing her mother again.

And for the first week, he didn’t worry. He had an existential crisis and bothersome witches to avoid like the plague. His days were spent distracting himself by making everyone's lives miserable, since they kept insisting on holding him captive in the Owl House instead of letting him decompose in the woods for some reason. And honestly, Luz knew way too many people, because he’d stopped bothering to keep track of everyone by the fourth hour of being in that house.

After he realized trying to run for it or annoying everyone into kicking him out wouldn’t work, he mostly hid in the dark corners where nobody would see him for hours at a time. Used to be for days, but apparently the Owl Lady was just as nocturnal as him, and they’d run into each other early in the morning when trying to grab a snack.

He had Rascal for company, at least. Say what you will about the little guy, but he was as loyal as he was stubborn.

But, after the first week, Hunter was starting to really notice a severe lack of annoying humans running around.

Apparently, so was the others, because he was noticing a few of them beginning to get a little antsy. He would’ve brushed it off, but he could hear a distinct influx of mutterings that sounded like ‘Luz’ and ‘portal’ and ‘human realm’ from his hiding places, when they thought no one else was around.

It was almost halfway through the second week before he knew it, and that was far too long for Luz to be away without so much as a note.

And she was probably fine, he reasoned. But Luz being away without even a call was suspicious enough, two was downright concerning.

By then, Hunter was somewhat starting to recognize the faces that filtered in and out of the Owl House, and he began to plan.

Somehow, he managed to wait until he saw a girl with familiar purple hair step in through the doorway, speaking words he didn’t bother to listen to as she sat on the couch he was hiding under.

Rascal had, of course, chosen to perch himself on the head of a chair across the room, where barely anyone would care to notice him.

She was talking to some small illusionist he saw earlier (he may recognize faces, but names were a whole other matter. He’d never had to memorize names unless they were important to Belos, and if they weren’t, they were irrelevant. He should probably work on remembering their names), something about buildings and repairs or something, it wasn’t his problem. When the illusionist stepped away, off towards the kitchen to grab something, Hunter decided to poke his head out from underneath the couch.

“So what's the word on-- ow!” He yelped, jerking back under the couch when he got a foot kicked into his nose.

“Titan, don’t do that, you prick!” Amity snapped, inching a little further to the left as Hunter peeked out only one eye from under the couch this time, giving his best spiteful glare. “Why are you even down there?”

“Because nobody bothers me,” Hunter growled, holding his nose as he began to wiggle out. “Everyone’s so clingy in this house, it’s maddening.”

“Do you actually mean clingy, or are you referring to basic kindness?” Amity raised a brow, narrowing her eyes as he stood and brushed himself off from the dust bunnies that gathered under the couch.

“Irrelevant. Why hasn’t the human returned yet?” He demanded, leaning against the arm of the couch as Amity sat at the other end, giving a reasonable distance between them.

“Luz?” Amity blinked, clearly taken aback by the question.

“Yes, is there another, different human that you have to bring up every five minutes I should know about?” Hunter snapped, and got a curled lip and bared teeth from Amity in response.

“What, getting bored of the rest of us?” Amity snarked, crossing her arms.

“Don’t flatter yourself, barely any of you were entertaining to begin with.” Hunter huffed. “Now do you know why the human is avoiding us or not?”

“Avoiding?” Amity frowned. “Luz’s not avoiding us, she’s just visiting her mom.”

“With radio silence for almost two weeks,” Hunter said, doing his best to stamp down his impatience.

He really would have rathered asking the Owl Lady about this, but he’d learned from the last time he tried that she’d twist any conversation regarding Luz to be about him, so the next logical best bet would have to be her incessant, chattery, girlfriend. Titan, Luz had the weirdest tastes.

“She’s been away from her mom for four months.” Amity said, rolling her eyes like this was some concept he wasn't understanding. “She’s not gonna see her for a day and then come right back.”

“But still!” Hunter threw his hands in the air, ignoring Rascal’s minorly concerned chirp from across the room. “You think someone like Luz would go without contact for almost two weeks? She would’ve at least popped in to say hello, or go on some ramble about what’s going on in the human realm. She’d feel guilty about leaving you guys to repair everything on your own by the second hour.”

“It’s just...taking her a minute,” Amity said, and that was the first small crack in her resolve he saw. Had she not seen him at his lowest the first time they spoke, he would’ve been proud of the fact he could chip away at her far easier than she could at him. “Luz wouldn’t avoid anyone out of the blue, that’s not like her.”

And he knew she was right on that, as infuriating it was to admit it. Luz wouldn’t abandon people, she’d be more likely to keel over on the spot from spontaneously growing a bile sac. And perhaps a part of him was being a little over dramatic, but there was just this little twist in his chest that curled tighter when he considered going back to hiding in empty rooms and letting everything continue on, waiting to see if anything would change rather than making it change.

“Besides,” Amity continued. “As Luz’s girlfriend, I think that I would know if--”

“Oh Titan, just forget it.” Hunter groaned, tugging on his ears as he stepped away from the couch. “Whatever, you’re useless about this, anyway. If you don’t know when she’s coming back, and the Owl Lady doesn’t know, then nobody will.”

Amity stayed silent for a moment as Hunter stormed off towards the doorway that led to the staircase, Rascal flying off his perch to land on his shoulder with soft, almost melodic chirrups.

He contemplated if he could steal something from one of the spare rooms up there. Everyone was fluctuating between them the last few days, but they often left their stuff in there for him to take. It was fun watching them get so riled up about their missing junk.

“We,” Amity started, and Hunter paused in the doorway, one ear pricked. “We were planning on going into the human realm,” She admitted, voice quiet. “If we didn’t hear anything from Luz by the end of this week.”

Hunter turned around then, noting Amity had one hand bunched up on her leg, fisting the hem of her shirt and rubbing her fingers between it in a nervous tick. She avoided his gaze, and he saw, for just the briefest of moments, the uncertainty spilling off of her, possibly having been doing so for far longer than when he’d noticed the same signs from everyone else.

“Well,” He said, and she looked up at him then, and the vulnerability was gone in a snap, replaced by a curious, slightly accusatory, expression. It unnerved him how familiar it looked. “By all means, don’t go telling me about your super secret rescue missions, not like I’d want to join.” He muttered.

“Count it a blessing that I told you at all,” Amity hissed, ears flicking back. “Maybe if you promise to be nice, we’ll let you come along.” She taunted.

“Maybe if you people hadn’t kidnapped me, I wouldn’t be causing so many problems.” Hunter growled back through gritted teeth, breaking eye contact for only a moment when Rascal lightly bit and tugged on his ear, trying to urge him away.

“Like you need an excuse--”

“Uh, am-am I interrupting?”

The two turned their heads, realizing that the small illusionist, he’d figure out the kids name later, was standing in the living room again, a box of juice in his hands as his eyes flicked between them.

“No, Golden Boy was just leaving.” Amity waved him off, leaning back against the couch.

“You weren’t even clever with that one, Blight.” Hunter sneered, rolling his eyes as he turned to leave.

“Wittebane.”

“Call me that again and I’m ripping your teeth out.” Hunter threatened, pointing a finger at her as he backed out of the room.

“No name,” Amity amended, sticking her tongue out at him.

“You are on thin ice.”

That night, Hunter was opening the window in Luz’s old room.

His escape attempts had never really worked before, the weird tube demon in the front door took his job of keeping him contained very seriously. Everyone else just liked watching the show and tapping in when needed.

However, he also knew, from the mutterings that Luz had told him in those few snatches of time in the days that they had talked before everything went wrong (or right, depending on who you asked), that she’d snuck out through her window multiple times without the demon realizing. Apparently she had bribed him once or twice, and now he barely reacted to the sound of her window opening, sort of like a reflex.

He’d meant to use it for his next escape attempt, just to see if it’d work for him, to run for the hills if it worked, but desperate times called for desperate measures. He’d be damned if they left him out of nabbing Luz from the human realm.

So Hunter tugged his cloak tighter across his shoulders, despite it being torn in many places, he had yet to rid it completely, and slowly opened Luz’s window.

He waited, tense, Rascal just as silent from within his hood. When there wasn’t the sound of a piercing voice after a few seconds, he cautiously poked his head out.

Nothing.

Either the bird really had grown to have no reaction to Luz’s window opening, or he was just as tired as everyone else. Or off eating bugs, that was plausible.

He slowly edged out, only having a moment to peer down at the ground below until he swung out of the window, hands gripping the windowsill as he edged himself down.

He hung in the air for a moment before releasing the windowsill, dropping to the ground below in a crouch. The perks of the Emperor’s Coven were few and far between, but hey, living there had made him an expert at being quiet.

He darted around the Owl House, crouching so as to avoid being seen through the first-floor windows, because there was always someone awake, no matter the hour. The portal to the human realm had been moved not too far away, but far enough that it couldn’t be, you know, automatically seen by anyone approaching the building.

He spared one last glance towards the house before he booked it off towards the woods, already mentally cursing himself for wearing a white cloak in the middle of the night. Why did he think that was a good idea, why did he think that was a good idea--

He made it to the cover of trees, somehow, without anyone sounding the alarm. He ducked behind a tree, catching his breath for a moment as he waited for shouting to arise.

Upon realizing he was in the clear, he pumped a fist in the air with a soft “yes!” and got an encouraging whistle from Rascal, who he gave a quick scratch on the head to.

He then hurried a bit further into the trees, soon faced with branches, vines, and bushes all stretched out across the beginning of a slope before him.

He reached out, grabbing one of the vines and yanking it aside, revealing the structure of the portal to the human realm, its soft humming mostly muffled by everything covering it. He ran his hand down the exterior of it for a second before pushing more vines aside, allowing a small enough space for him to crawl through.

He’d been to the human realm before, technically. Belos’s wrath had only just begun to reach into the human realm before he had managed to be stopped, and Hunter had a few moments out there, feeling the grass and seeing the trees. They really were green, and he couldn’t help but see it all and know with certainty that there was no magic within any of it. Hollow. It was a feeling he was familiar with.

But this time was different, and he inhaled for a moment before giving Rascal what he hoped was his best determined look.

“Alright,” He said. “Let’s see what’s been keeping her.”

He spent about half an hour in the woods of the human realm until he managed to find Luz’s house.

She’d never really said where she lived, just that it was the closest house to the forest. Nothing about directions, so he spent his time wandering about trying to find a house that wasn’t falling apart.

Rascal gave up and eventually flew off at some point, returning about five minutes later, chittering loudly and pulling on his hood. Hunter knew better to argue, and had followed until he came across a house that actually looked lived in, as opposed to the one he’d appeared in.

“If you led me to a random person's house, I will throw you into the sea.” Hunter warned, only getting a cheery whistle in return as he walked around the house.

He eventually found a window on the first floor, and pushing on it, was delighted to find that it was unlocked. He opened it, hoisting himself inside as Rascal darted in.

He realized the window was right over a kitchen sink, and lightly stepped a foot onto the counter beside it. He slowly swung himself inside, not even bothering to shut the window behind him as he dropped to the floor. He might need that escape route later.

Rascal was off exploring without a second thought, so he allowed himself to stalk throughout the kitchen, eyes flickering over photos and magnets stuck to the fridge. He saw ones that looked like letters, colors, and even saw a photo of a woman and a young, crazy-looking child.

He peeked around corners as he darted through the house, cracking open doors before continuing through hallways. One of the doors he opened looked like a bedroom, but he saw something with a scaly tail poking out, so he let that room be. The human realm was bound to have its own oddities.

The other bedroom he saw did have a person sleeping in it, but she didn’t look like Luz, much too old, so he quietly shut that door again and tried a different one.

He opened the last one, at the end of the hallway, already preparing to snap back that Rascal had brought him to the wrong house, when he took in the bedroom.

He only needed to see it for half a second to see the immediate resemblance to the mess that was Luz’s room in the Owl House. He slipped inside, leaving the door open just a crack in case Rascal showed up.

He crouched, eyeing the posters along the walls, shelves full of random junk, books strewn across the room. The figure sleeping in the bed was practically twisted backwards, blankets already halfway on the floor. He approached it, slowly standing up as he loomed over them, searching their face.

“Oh thank the Titan,” Hunter breathed, stepping back as he pressed a hand to his chest. That was Luz, for sure.

She stirred, slightly, hand twitching as she mumbled incoherently in her sleep. At least she wasn’t actually kidnapped or something, he reasoned.

“Hey, human,” He said, a little louder, but enough that he hoped the others down the hallway wouldn’t hear, shoving at her shoulder. “Wakey wakey.”

Luz mumbled in her sleep again, one eye barely cracking open before she turned over and tried to bury further under her covers.

Hunter grabbed her leg poking out from the blankets and yanked her off.

Luz’s yelp was cut off as he smothered the blankets over her, pausing as she fumbled around trying to get it off, ears pricked as he waited to see if anyone had heard.

“I’m awake, Vee, I’m awake--” Luz pulled the blanket off her head, her glare almost immediately replaced with shock.

“Hey,” Hunter grinned, flashing fangs. “Miss me?”

“Hunter?” Luz exclaimed, before immediately covering her mouth with her hands, eyes darting towards her door like she expected someone to be there.

“Oh don’t sound so surprised.” Hunter scoffed, rolling his eyes. “You oughta step up your game if you think you can escape me in another dimension.”

“What are you doing here?” Luz whisper-yelled, scrambling to her feet as she looked wildly around her room. “Did-did the others come?” She asked, giving him such a scared look he was a little put off by it.

“No? I mean, they will be, I just got ahead of the curve.” Hunter shrugged off her odd reactions. “Made sure I got to you before they did, didn’t feel like being left behind on the ‘let’s drag Luz back kicking and screaming’ plan.”

“Oh no, oh no,” Luz shook her head, one hand on her head as she began to pace. “Are-are the others looking for me?”

“Will be by the end of this week,” Hunter said, watching her curiously. “Why? This a bad time or something?”

“Yes! Yes, this is a terrible time!” Luz exclaimed, barely managing to keep her voice down as she whirled towards him.

“Did you get grounded?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “Because if so, let me just say, I know about fifteen different ways to lessen the extent of the grounding, and twice as many ways to sneak out, this place isn’t even all that fortified--”

“No! Well, I mean, I kind of am,” Luz winced. “But that’s not--you can’t--you need to go.” Luz said, gesturing back towards the door. “You can’t be here.”

“Do you need a body disposed of? Because I also know a lot of ways to--”

“I’m touched, but no.” Luz gave him a withering look. “Don’t even wanna know why you know that. You have to leave.” She insisted, beginning to shove him towards the door.

“Aw, but I came all this way to see you,” Hunter whined in a dramatic tease, slowly leaning back, therefore putting more strain on Luz as she tried to push him out. “You don’t want to see me?”

“Believe me, I’m very happy to see you’re okay,” Luz assured through gritted teeth, offering the smallest of smiles. “And I’ll bother you later. But now is not the time.”

Rascal took that moment to poke in through the crack in the doorway, landing on a shelf and eyeing the two with what felt like judgement. Hunter promptly dropped all his weight on Luz, nearly crushing her.

“Damn,” He whistled when Luz’s knees refused to buckle. “You got some muscle hiding under those skinny bones?”

“That, and you weigh as much as a half-filled sack of lumpy potatoes.” Luz muttered, already pushing back up to her full height as she took Hunter with her.

“You’re impossible.” Hunter huffed, standing back up onto his feet and snickering as Luz stumbled with the lack of weight. “Seriously, what’s the hold up? Are you getting bored with us already?”

“No, first of all, I’d never do that.” Luz pointed a finger at him. “And I’m offended you thought I ever would be.”

“It’s a reasonable assumption.”

“It’s not. And second of all, I’m serious, you cannot be here.” Luz stressed, grabbing his shoulders, a movement that instinctively caused him to flinch, just the tiniest bit. “If my mom sees you here, she’s going to freak--”

“Luz?” A groggy voice called, and Luz stiffened so quickly with such terror crossing her face that Hunter tensed as well. “Creí haber escuchado algo, are you--?”

Hunter saw the door to Luz’s room open, and immediately threw an arm out in front of Luz, giving a quick whistle that Rascal had learned to recognize by now. In a flash, he was holding his staff in his other hand, Luz pushed behind him as he pointed his staff towards the figure in the doorway, ears pressed back and fangs bared in a low, warning growl.

The person froze, eyes going wide, one hand still clutching the door handle.

He recognized it as the older woman he saw in one of the bedrooms, hair still mussied from sleep, the glasses on her face smudged from someone having grabbed them clumsily. The sleep had vanished from her eyes the moment she saw him, a faintly glowing staff pointed only a foot away from her.

“Hunter, Hunter, no, stop!” Luz was quick to grab Hunter’s arm after barely a second of tense silence, shoving the staff down. “She’s my mom, she’s safe!”

Hunter paused at that. Granted, his experience with biological family (as biological as Belos could be) wasn’t the best, but he had heard a few stories, here and there, about Luz’s mom. And Luz would go into a Slitherbeast den for anyone who asked nicely, but hey, he still thought that if someone was willing to fight Emperor Belos for them, they had to be something special.

“Oh, sorry.” He said, all hostility evaporating as he drew his staff back, holding it at his side. “Reflexes.”

“Luz,” The woman said, slowly, and Hunter was so instantly reminded of when the adults dealing with him were trying so hard to not lose their shit that he halfway raised his arm to shield Luz again. “Por qué hay un chico extraño en tu habitación?”

“Puedo explicarlo!” Luz was quick to exclaim, clutching Hunter’s arm, and he looked blankly between them. He’d heard of other languages in the Isles before, often ones spoken by demons, but this was a new one on him.

“Oh estoy segura de que lo harás!” The woman snapped back, hands on her hips now, not bothering to keep her voice low.

“What’s she saying?” Hunter whispered to Luz, eyes still darting between the two. “Is this a ‘we’re about to start fighting’ situation or a ‘you’re grounded for life’ situation?”

“No te puedo creer.” Luz's mom grumbled, pinching the bridge of her nose.

“Okay, so, uh,” Luz clasped her hands together. “I promise, mami, this is not what it looks like.”

“What does it look like?” Hunter blinked, giving Luz a concerned expression now. “It doesn't look like I’m a robber, right? Because this place has nothing near worth stealing.”

“Please stop talking,” Luz hissed out of the corner of her mouth, never taking her eyes off her mother. “Mami, this is, uh,” She faltered for a moment. “This is Hunter.”

Her mother cracked open an eye from where she was rubbing the bridge of her nose, sending such a seething glare that both kids shuttered.

“You know what,” Hunter said, letting Rascal transform out of a staff and back into his usual self, letting the bird land on his shoulder as he clapped his hands together. “I can see that you're busy, so I think I’ll just be--why is she staring at me like that?”

The woman was staring at him now, well, Rascal, eyes locked on the cardinal on his shoulder like it had suddenly grown five heads. He flicked an ear in confusion, turning to Luz to ask what her mom’s problem was, only to see Luz immediately face-palm.

“Estoy atascado con un idiota,” Luz mumbled under her breath, and Hunter could pretty easily guess what the last word had meant, and bristled at it.

“Hey--”

“Okay, so, Hunter,” Luz kept her hands pressed together, using them both to point towards him. “Thank you for the visit, really, but I think we’re done here.”

“We,” Luz’s mom finally managed to speak, and Luz cringed with a sheepish smile. “Are going to have a talk.” She growled, though it lacked any of the reverberating sounds an actual growl would have. He always wondered how humans ever got the last hit of their point across without growls or clicks or hisses. He realized now that tone had a lot to do with it.

“And that includes you, young man.” The woman added, turning her glare towards Hunter, and he wouldn’t be ashamed to admit he wilted a bit under it. She could’ve disintegrated Kikimora on the spot with a look like that.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter ducked his head, and ignored the quiet snickers from Luz that she quickly tried to smother.

The woman stepped to the side, allowing the two of them to shuffle out of the room. Luz went out first, giving Hunter an expression that was somehow both ‘sorry’ and ‘I told you so’ and boy did he want to punch it.

Hunter hurried out after her, one hand cupped over Rascal protectively, unable to fight back the urge to hide him from everyone and everything new, that he’d be broken in half the second anyone got close.

As he passed her, he knew she was staring at him with a far sharper gaze than she had Luz. He glanced out the corner of his eye, and she was staring at his ears, at Rascal, and just as he stepped into the hallway, her eyes narrowed in on the scar along the side of his face.

He’d had people stare at his scars before, it wasn’t new. Scars weren’t uncommon in the Boiling Isles, but ones as big and prominent as his were generally expected of witches far older than him, far more known for their battles and their victories.

He growled in the back of his throat, briefly twitching his lip to flash a fang. It was near-instinctive at this point, a quiet reminder of who he was, of who shadowed over him, and that it was impolite to stare, to mind your own business.

Luz’s mom jerked back at it, a far stronger reaction than the ones he was used to getting. He was used to a quick aversion of the eyes, hurrying to turn their heads the other way, a simple glance to elsewhere in the room. She stared at him with even more apprehension and worry than before, like she was confronted with a wild animal in her home.

His ears pressed down and he hurried off down the hallway, almost stepping on Luz’s heels from how close he walked behind her.

He noticed an eye peeking out of a room up ahead, and Luz gave a weak, almost teasing, salute to whoever was inside. He saw a flash of scales and what might've been a pitying look until they slipped out of view.

Luz stood off to the side as she exited the hallway, and Hunter stood next to her. He gave her a questioning look, one she nearly missed from how much she was staring at her feet. He nudged her shoulder, gaining her attention, and Luz gave a weak, nervous smile.

Alright, so he was definitely missing something here with his woman.

“Kitchen table,” Luz’s mom said, pointing, and the two obeyed. Hunter had no real reason to, he knew this. She was human, he could just leave, and she wouldn’t be able to stop him. But she was important to Luz, clearly, and he knew, tragically, that he’d feel guilty if he left Luz alone.

Luz sat in one of the chairs at the round table, and Hunter took the one next to her. Her mother eyed them for a moment before taking the one across from them.

“Can I just say, that I did not invite Hunter here--”

“Oh, so that’s how it's gonna be?” Hunter whirled his head to her. “Throwing me under the bus? Sorry I wanted to check in.”

“I am telling it as the truth.” Luz insisted, glaring at him. “Would you rather I tell her that I purposefully invited you here at,” She turned towards the wall, squinting at a clock hanging there. “Two twenty-three? Why did you come here so late?” She demanded.

“Technically, it’s early.” Hunter corrected.

“I’m actually going to punch your teeth out.”

Rascal cheeped from his shoulder, and Hunter nodded sagely like he had said something. Rascal could talk to him, of course, in words that only he could hear, but he often didn’t. And the best part was that he could never prove to anyone that Rascal wasn’t shit-talking them.

“Enough, both of you . ” Luz’s mother said firmly, hands placed on the table that had them both straightening to attention. “Luz,” She turned to her daughter, rubbing her temple with one hand as she gestured with the other towards Hunter. “Explain him, please.”

“Like, life story, or why he’s here, or what he is, or--”

“Just please tell me he’s not from where I think he’s from.”

“Oh,” Luz glanced between Hunter and her mother, gears turning in her head. “He’s...not?”

“Dios ayúdame,” Her mother groaned.

“You told me to say he wasn’t! Actually,” Luz frowned as she turned to Hunter. “Do you count as someone from the demon realm, biologically? I don’t know how that whole, er, Grimwalker thing worked, like are you a direct clone, or--”

“I’m gonna stop you right there, because I’ve been avoiding dealing with that whole situation for the past two weeks, and I’m not about to start now.” Hunter raised a hand to cut her off.

“You…” Luz narrowed her eyes at him. “You need a therapist, dude.”

“You’re the fifth person to say that in the last week.”

“Why,” Luz’s mother cut in again, silencing their conversation. “Is there a demon boy in my house?”

“I’m a witch,” Hunter corrected.

“Don’t you count as, like, half a--”

“What did I just say, Luz?”

“Right,” Luz snapped her mouth shut. “Uh, so, I’m assuming he broke in--”

Hunter groaned, gripping his head in his hands as he slouched over the table. Rascal chittered gently as he hopped off his shoulder and onto the table, nudging his arm.

“--but he wasn’t going to cause any trouble!” Luz added quickly, seeing her mothers expression continue to sour. “He just-he wanted to make sure I was alright.”

The woman eyed the two of them for a moment, and Hunter refused to look up and meet her gaze.

“Hunter, is it?” The woman said slowly, cautious, suspicious, but not accusatory.

“Yes, ma’am.” Hunter sighed, relenting to lift his head, messy hair hanging in his face.

“How old are you, exactly?”

“Mami…”

“Sixteen, ma’am.” He mumbled, resting his cheek in his hand.

“And…” She hesitated for a moment. “How old is that in witch years…?”

“...sixteen?” Hunter gave her a perplexed look.

“They age the same as us.” Luz assured, and her mother seemed to relax just a bit.

“Gracias a Dios por eso,” Her mother mumbled. “Alright, and how did you get in?”

“Window,” He tilted his head off towards the one in question, still open over the sink.

“Of course,” The woman muttered under her breath. “The one time I didn’t lock it. Okay, now what is that?” She gestured towards Rascal on his shoulder, and he raised his hand to let the palisman hop onto his hand.

“My palisman,” He said, settling the bird down on the table, but keeping him a far enough distance from Luz’s mom that she wouldn’t be able to grab him. “I call him Rascal. Which reminds me,” He nudged Luz’s shoulder. “Where do you keep those seeds you have for your palisman? She keeps screaming at everyone and the Owl Lady doesn’t know how to make her shut up.”

“Is she okay?” Luz straightened.

“Yeah, little jays fine, she’s just being a pain in the ass.” Hunter grimaced.

“Watch your language, young man.” Luz’s mom leveled a finger at him, and he eyed it for a moment. “Now what do you mean ‘Luz’s pailsman?’ What in the world is a palisman?”

“Oh, uh, nothing! Nothing important, really. Just, like, staff things.” Luz said quickly, and Hunter and Rascal shared a look. Luz loved her palisman, as bratty as she was. And he knew from experience that Luz didn’t think of palismans as ‘nothing important.’

He drew a hand around Rascal and scooted him a little closer towards himself.

“Okay, okay,” Luz’s mother inhaled a steadying breath, as though to keep her cool. “And you are breaking into my house, early in the morning, to see my daughter.”

“Really just to make sure she didn’t, like, get kidnapped on the way up here.” Hunter shrugged. “Everyone's worried about her, so I took one for the team, and all that.”

“Everyone?” Her mother frowned.

“Her...friends?” Hunter gave Luz a sideways look, and she avoided his gaze.

“Mija, you have friends in the demon realm?�� Luz’s mom balked, with the tone of someone who didn’t quite believe it, who almost felt as though they were being tricked.

“I told you a bit about them…” Luz mumbled, shifting uncomfortably.

“You,” Her mother chuckled, shaking her head, the first sign of anything lighter than what they’d had so far. “You really can’t help but be friendly to everyone, huh?”

“It’s how she got stuck with me, it’s a real problem.” Hunter said, and got an elbow jabbed into him for his troubles, wheezing as he clutched his side.

“Well, you certainly are an...interesting acquaintance,” Her mother said slowly, eyeing him, and he barely resisted the urge to briefly flash sharpened teeth when her gaze lingered on the scar across his face again. “And you showed up, by breaking in...just to check in on Luz?”

“Yeah?” Hunter managed to cough out, cracking open an eye to give the woman a confused look compared to her suspicious, searching one. “Why else?”

“...alright.” She said, and her gaze went back to her daughter. “I wasn’t aware that there would be... situations where the demon realm followed you back.”

“Neither did I, really.” Luz was quick to assure, hands raised. “Hunter of all people being worried about me is the most confusing and touching thing that’s happened so far.”

“I was not worried.” Hunter whirled to her. “I only came here because everyone else was, and they were going to leave me out of the rescue party.”

“Rescue party?” Luz’s mother startled, and he should really learn her name.

“Aha, he doesn't mean that.” Luz waved her hands quickly.

“I do?” Hunter narrowed his eyes. “The others were planning on busting out of the portal to come find you by the end of this week. I didn’t want to be left out, so I broke in ahead of time.”

“There are demons coming here?” The woman exclaimed, jumping to her feet.

“Pretty sure the little rat dog is the only demon coming along.” Hunter corrected. “The others are witches.”

“You know his name is King.” Luz grumbled.

“Yeah, but it's way more fun to call him a rat.”

“Luz, cariño, are we going to have more witches breaking in?” Her mother stressed, stepping away from the table and already beginning to pace.

“Not-not when Hunter gets back to them!” Luz said, also standing. “He can tell them to hold off, that I’m fine, and all that.”

“And deal with them getting all pissy I broke out?” Hunter demanded, scooping Rascal up in his hands as he, too, stood. “Hell no, either they hear from me with you there, or I don’t tell them shit.”

“Watch it,” Luz’s mother warned him again, this time only giving a quick glare. “And Luz is not going back there.”

“Then you have two to twenty witches, plus one demon, knocking on your door.” Hunter shrugged. “What’s the big deal?”

“Luz, what did you get into while you were in the demon realm?” Her mother groaned, rubbing her temples.

“I mean, you didn’t ask a lot... ” Luz tried, hovering about two feet from her mom.

“You have two to twenty magical demon people ready to break into our home to make sure you’re okay,” Her mother said, turning towards her daughter. “You didn’t...you didn’t tell me you had friends there.”

“I feel like I just said this,” Hunter squinted. “I told you Luz has friends in the Boiling Isles, isn’t that expected? She makes friends with everyone.”

Luz rubbed her arm and looked down at the ground, and her mother’s mouth twitched downwards for a brief moment. He felt like he was missing something.

“Are all of your friends like him?” Her mother said after a moment, gesturing with a hand off towards Hunter.

“I resent what that implies,” Hunter huffed, ears pressed down as he tucked Rascal between his neck and cloak.

“I mean, personality wise? No, he’s the biggest brat of them all.” Luz assured, and Hunter visibly took offence. “Well, Matt was also a brat, but he’s a friend of a friend, and I think he’s calmer now.”

“They are annoying, though.” Hunter piped up, and prided on barely reacting under Luz’s seething glare.

“Well they can’t come here, your first friend has already caused enough trouble.” Her mother said firmly, and Hunter rolled his eyes at that.

“Please, breaking and entering is tame for me.” Hunter scoffed, and got an even more worried, and possibly judging, look from the woman.

“You're not helping.” Luz whispered, immediately turning back to her mother. “I’m sure we can figure this whole thing out. I can probably get Hunter to tell them to calm them down without me having to go back, Rascal can bully him into it, he likes me.”

“That’s a low blow, human!” Hunter hissed, a low, drawn-out sound that had the woman tensing and Luz only rolling her eyes. “I do so much for you, and this is the thanks I get?” He ignored Rascal’s gleeful chitters that sounded suspiciously like laughter.

“We’re even on that front and you know it.”

“Debatable,”

“This is serious, Luz.” Her mother said, and Luz’s mouth clicked shut. “Christ,” She sighed. “Why didn’t you tell me you’d made friends in the demon realm?”

“You didn’t ask…?” Luz said slowly.

“I don’t see what the big deal is,” Hunter said, leaning against the island counter. “I drag Luz back, she hangs for a day or two to calm everyone down, and she comes right back to have quality family time, or whatever you guys call it, until you’re all finished.”

“Absolutely not,” Her mother said instantly. “Luz will not go anywhere near that portal.”

“It’s not gonna blow up, it’s stable.” Hunter raised a brow, not noticing Luz freezing up.

“Luz is not going back to that demon realm,” She insisted, and he was sure she would be growling if she could. “Listen, could you please just tell the other witches to stay back? I don’t want any trouble from that realm coming through here.”

“Ouch,” Hunter said dryly, twitching an ear as he crossed his arms. “Why’s this got you in a tizzy? I came here to bring back Luz anyway, why is this an issue?”

Luz and her mother met eyes for a brief second, and Hunter knew then he was missing something, because it felt like a conversation passed between their eyes and Luz ducked her head again, ashamed.

“Luz,” Her mother spoke in soft tones, though she was rubbing at her face. “You didn’t tell your friends--”

“I was going to--”

“Luz, honey, you can’t omit details from people--”

“I know, I swear I was just busy trying to see you--”

Hunter set Rascal down on the island counter and gestured towards him. The palisman fluffed his wings before proceeding to peck incessantly on the counter, making a loud clinking noise. It got both humans mingling words to come to a stop as they both turned towards him.

“Hi, sorry to interrupt, but I’m still here.” Hunter said, scratching his bird's head to get him to cease once he had their full attention. “What am I missing?” He asked, pointing between the two.

“I apologize Luz hadn’t informed you earlier,” Her mother started, and Luz gripped her arms and looked away from them both, shoulders hunched. “But she won’t be going back to the demon realm.”

He stared. He blinked once, twice. He could see Rascal staring too, just barely in his line of sight.

“Come again?”

“Luz had been trapped there for so long,” Her mother went on. “And-and she was surrounded by demons and rain that scalded skin and-and Vee told me of Emperor’s and experiments,”

Hunter flinched at that, ears pressing flat as he turned his head to the side.

“It’s clearly not a safe place,” She continued, and her eyes dropped to his notched ear. “And...there’s much to catch up on, to talk about.” She said, in a polite tone that told him not to press that particular matter. “Surely, you can explain this to them?”

Hunter stayed silent for a moment, aware of Luz peeking at him with guilt across her features. He didn’t meet it, he knew he’d get more riled up if he did.

“Yeah, so,” Hunter said calmly, clasping his hands together. “That’s not happening.”

“Excuse me?” Her mother reeled back a bit.

“Listen, Miss...what are your last names again?” He asked Luz, though he still didn’t let himself fully look at her.

“Noceda,” She said, sounding confused now.

“Ms. Noceda,” He continued. “I can speak from personal experience when I tell you that the Emperor and any experiments he had are far beyond gone,” He said, bitterness dripping from his words. “And I-- we have your daughter to thank for that.”

Her mother startled for a moment, opening her mouth to speak, but he plowed on.

“Half the things that made the Isles dangerous, including the very reason your daughter was late coming home, are either burnt to a crisp or in the ground.” He said, holding her gaze. “And I can tell you this, with one hundred percent sincerity, that if I go back and tell Luz’s friends that she won’t ever be coming back, you’ll have witches and demons in numbers nearing the thirties knocking on your front door.”

“Is that a threat?” The woman managed to get out first.

“With all due respect, Ms. Noceda, it’s a promise.”

“Thank you, Hunter.” Luz was suddenly at his side, seizing his arm in a grip that felt like he was losing circulation. “That’s enough,” She said, giving him a warning look. “I think she gets the message.”

“Luz, what in the world is he talking about?” Her mother asked, eyes back to her child.

“It-it’s a long story, but he’s right about the Emperor!” Luz added quickly. “He’s...he’s gone, and-and I don’t think he’s coming back.”

“He won’t.” Hunter said, and left it at that.

“Luz, cariño, I’m sure we could work something out with your friends.” Her mother assured. “I’m glad a man like Vee had described is gone, but I’m sure they would understand.”

“That her mom won’t let her come back?” Hunter scoffed, and Luz tugged forcefully on his arm.

“Hunter,” She hissed, and he looked at her then, and saw the fear practically radiating off her. He wondered if it was something she’d picked up from Amity or vice versa, to be brimming with emotions, but leaving them largely unnoticed until someone actually focused.

“Look, I…” Luz hesitated for a moment. “I promised that I’d stay with her…” She mumbled, and the last piece clicked in his mind.

Luz had promised she’d stay, to a likely terrified mother, and Luz was never one to skimp out on promises. She either kept them or agonized over trying. And it’d make sense why she wouldn’t want to tell anyone, she promised she’d leave forever, and no plans or compromises from the residents of the Owl House could sate a mother worried for her daughter.

Also made sense why she wanted him to leave. Her mom did not seem to like the place, and him being there had to be somewhat breaking the little ‘promise’ of interacting with someone from the demon realm at all.

“Oh,” He said, instead of all that, ears pricking slightly.

“I’m sorry to have it all sprung on you without warning,” He heard her mother saying, though he wasn’t looking at her much in that moment, but she sounded genuine. “But the demon realm doesn’t necessarily seem to be...the safest of places.”

“It’s not,” Hunter confirmed, slowly straightening to face the woman again. “But hey,” He shrugged, feeling Luz letting up her grip on his arm. “It’s home.”

Her eyes dropped to his scar again, just for a moment, and he didn’t bother to hide his eye roll this time.

“Trust me, I’m an outlier in how deadly the place actually is.” He muttered. “These,” He gestured broadly to his face, not quite feeling the satisfaction he assumed he’d feel when he saw her wince. “Were caused by something outside the Boiling Isles, something that never should have been there in the first place. He’s gone now.” He rumbled a growl. “We made sure of it.”

She looked apologetic, and he’d give her that. But she shook her head with a sigh all the same.

“I’m sorry, truly, but Luz and I agreed, it’s not safe. I’m glad she could make friends there, I really am,” She said, and he wondered what kind of friends Luz had had in the past, because she said the word ‘friends’ like it could have five different meanings. “But it’s not safe for her.”

“And?” Hunter threw a hand out in a broad gesture. “It was never completely safe, no place is. You gonna look me in the eyes and tell me Luz would never sneak back out? I’m giving her another week at best.”

“Hunter!”

“Look, I’m really just trying to wrap this whole complication up,” Hunter sighed unsympathetically, aware of Rascal chirping and head-butting his arm. “Unfortunately, I know you, and I know you’d rather wallow in a chasm for eternity than never go back to the Isles. And as entertaining as watching a whole drama unfold would be when your mom would eventually find out, I really don't want to deal with that headache.” He grumbled.

Luz looked to her mother then, and her mother looked back. Luz’s hand was still clutched in his sleeve, watching her mother worriedly as she met her confused gaze.

“Luz?” Her mother said slowly, and Luz fiddled with Hunter’s sleeve.

“Mami, I...look, I didn’t...my friends, they...I don’t…”

“Hi, sorry, can-can I butt-in?”

The three whirled around, Hunter automatically putting an arm in front of Luz and taking a step back at the sight.

A basilisk lay in the doorway to the kitchen, tail curled somewhere out of sight. It was a young one, about the size of Luz. That’d work, he’d taken on bigger before, not like he had any magic for a basilisk to steal--

“Vee,” Luz’s mother breathed. “What are you doing up?”

And of course she was someone they knew. Amazing, wonderful, he loved being out of the loop that there was a basilisk casually within the house, that wasn’t unnerving at all.

“You guys aren’t very quiet,” The basilisk--Vee--shrugged as she slithered in, and Hunter took another step back, his arm in front of Luz causing her to be pushed back as well. “Hey there, uh, new guy.” She offered a small, shy wave to Hunter, and he eyed her before hesitantly returning it.

“Vee, I think you should go back to bed, we were discussing--”

“I know, I heard.” Vee brushed off Luz’s mom. “I actually have an idea for, y’know, this predicament. No offence, but I can't really sleep with you guys arguing.” She said, the wringing of her clawed hands the only sign she was nervous, stopping only when she was between them, with Luz and Hunter on one side, Ms. Noceda on the other.

“Should I be worried about this?” Hunter whispered to Luz.

“Nah, she’s cool.” Luz whispered back.

“What if, and hear me out...we all sleep on this,” Vee said, palms pressed together. “We think it over during the night, and when it's actually light out, we talk about Luz wanting to go back to the Isles and the rules that would have to be put in place. And also nobody breaks in.” She tacked on quickly.

“So you do want to go back?” Luz’s mother turned to her, and he saw the hurt and shock in her eyes.

“I…” Luz looked like she had a ‘no,’ at the back of her throat, and he truly did believe she would’ve said all her mom wanted to say. But he nudged her side, and she looked up at him, and clearly he was doing something with his face, because the empty assurances died out.

“Y-yeah, I do.” She mumbled, looking back to her mom. “I...really, really want to see them again, back in their realm.”

And he avoided looking at Ms. Noceda’s face, because the shock and pain increased significantly.

“Well, I, for one,” He said, ducking around Luz. “Agree with the lizard's plan. Sleep on it, talk in the morning with Ms. Noceda, yadda yadda, all that fun stuff.”

“Camila is fine,” The woman murmured, sounding a little dazed.

“Lizard?” Vee hissed, tongue flickering out as she narrowed her eyes on him.

“Right, sorry, snake fits better.” Hunter said before he could stop himself.

“You have permission to beat him up.” Luz said casually, ignoring Hunter’s indignant shout of “traitor!”

“I, yes, yes,” Luz’s mother--Camila--sighed, stepping back and bracing herself against the kitchen counter. “Tonight has been...a hectic one. It’s far too late to be talking about things like this.”

“Does this mean I can go?” Hunter asked, pointing with his thumb behind him. “Preferably without alerting everyone that I snuck out?”

“I don’t know how you got past Hooty,” Luz sighed, tilting her head and beginning to walk towards the front door with a quick, affirming glance with her mother that both had barely managed to make, Hunter immediately following.

“I escaped through your window.” Hunter said simply, and he noted Camila looking up slightly at that, until Vee approached her, murmuring in soft words he knew better than to try and eavesdrop on.

“Of course you did,” Luz grumbled, opening the front door and practically shoving Hunter outside.

“Alright, alright, I get it, I’m leaving--”

Luz stepped out onto the front porch with him, leaving the front door open just a crack, enough so that she could be seen through it, and in turn could see Camila and Vee talking back by the kitchen.

“Am I going to get a personal lecture?” Hunter asked cautiously, crossing his arms as his ears flicked down. “Look, in my defense, you didn’t exactly explain a lot of things to me--”

Luz lunged, and he stepped back and raised his hands defensively. Instead of a mean left hook he was expecting, he got arms wrapped around his sides, squeezing the air out of him.

Hunter wheezed, and would’ve doubled over if Luz wasn’t in the way. She didn’t let up on her hug, and after a moment of trying to get his thoughts in order, he slowly drew his arms around Luz, chin tucked against her head pressed into his chest.

“I’m glad you're okay,” Luz muffled into his shirt, and Hunter may have clung on a little tighter, aware of Rascal watching this all from his shoulder.

“Feel like you said this already.” He managed to get out.

“I know, I just wanted you to know I meant it.”

And if Hunter tilted his head down to press his face into Luz’s hair then, she didn’t say anything.

“Good to see you still kickin’, too.” He mumbled.

“Miss me?” Luz teased, throwing his words back at him as she pulled her head back slightly, and Hunter quickly did the same to look down at her.

“Hardly,” He huffed, clearing his throat to hide how it cracked halfway through. “I just didn’t want everyone leaving me out of all the fun.”

“Uh huh,” Luz raised a brow. “So you just happened to drop by to make sure I was alright on the one night you actually managed to escape the Owl House without being caught?”

“...listen--”

Luz laughed, and Hunter sputtered over his words. He growled and pushed her back and off him, knowing his face was flushing as he turned away and crossed his arms. Luz’s laughter didn’t stop at that, and Rascal sounded like he was laughing, too.

His ears drooped down and he half-heartedly bared teeth, in what may have been an attempt to hide a smile.

“You’re such a massive pain, you know that?” He growled.

“I do,” Luz grinned, laughter calming down to giggles. “I learned from the best.”

“That, you did. That Owl Lady couldn’t be more overbearing if she tried.” Hunter muttered.

“She’s got a bit of an empty nest syndrome, you get used to it.” Luz lightly nudged his shoulder. “It’s her way of welcoming you to the family.”

And he didn’t even have the time to process that whole sentence, because Rascal was fluttering onto Luz’s shoulder, cheeping as Luz raised a hand to scratch at his head.

“Make sure they know not to worry too much, okay?” She continued, looking up at him. “I’ll try and sort this out.”

“Does that mean you’re coming back soon?” Hunter paused, tilting his head. And maybe there was a tone of hopefulness in his tone, maybe.

Luz hesitated for a moment, frowning slightly in thought. She looked back towards the front door, though he couldn’t see if Camila or Vee were anywhere near it, what with the angle being off and Luz blocking most of it. He wondered if they could hear their conversation.

“I think so,” She said, quieter this time as she turned back to him with a small smile. “I... hope so.”

“So do I, they’ll be insufferable without you.” Hunter teased. “Have fun thinking up how to explain to them your apparent promise.”

“Don’t remind me,” Luz groaned, throwing her head back. “Look, it was a panicked situation, and I didn’t want her any more scared than she--”

“Save it,” Hunter said, not unkindly, raising a hand to silence her. “I’ve made worse spur-of-the-moment decisions. Contrary to popular belief, I know you well enough that you’d never stay away for long. You have a habit of being a people-pleaser.”

Luz relaxed, and raised her hand to let Rascal hop onto it. She offered him back to Hunter, and he took the bird into his hands.

“Still, I’m sorry.” She said, wringing her hands together. “For all of this.”

“If all goes well, you’ll get to tell them that yourself.” He said, and attempted a smile.

“Hopefully,” Luz said, glancing back towards the door. “So, that means you’re willing to tell them what happened?” She asked, a pleading note to her voice.

“As in, I tell them that I broke out of the Owl House in the middle of the night, escaped to the human realm, found you when I knew they were going to do the same thing, and then came back to the demon realm without you, just to tell them you’ll probably be back soon, but I don’t know when?” Hunter said, ears lowering more and more as he spoke, raising a brow.

“...yes?” Luz tried, hands clasped behind her back as she looked up at him with wide, puppy-dog eyes.

“...I don’t know why I put up with you.” Hunter groaned, relenting as his shoulders slumped, letting Rascal fly up onto his shoulder.

“Because you care about me,” Luz teased in a singsong tone, her relief immediate.

“Unfortunately,” He muttered unthinkingly, before the words processed in his head. He tensed right after, eyes locked on the wall behind Luz.

She looked surprised for about half a second before she practically lit up, beaming excitedly at him.

“Anyway,” He said quickly, voice higher than normal, knowing he was flushed up to his ears. “I should be off before your mom gets even more pissed at me.” He said, sharply turning on his heel.

Rascal was most definitely laughing at him now, and he pulled up his hood before shoving the bird into it, silencing him. He leapt down the stairs leading up to the porch, instead of walking down them like a normal person.

“Well, in her defense, you did break in.” Luz reminded, though there was a certain giddiness to her tone as she watched him leave.

“Like you haven’t done it!” Hunter scoffed behind him, beginning to hurry back towards the forest, head ducked low.

“Yes, but we don’t need to tell her that!” Luz hissed, voice notably quieter as she fearfully glanced back.

“No promises!” He called back, a grin forming as he picked up the pace. “Call it compensation for throwing me to the wolves!”

“Wh--Hunter!” Luz squawked indignantly.

He turned on his heel for just a moment, giving Luz a mocking salute before ducking between the trees of the forest, cackling as Luz’s calls of “don’t you dare!” faded behind him.

“Alright, Rascal, prepare yourself.” He said, hearing his palisman chitter from within his hood, with a hint of annoyance to it. “We’ve got a lot of explaining to do.”

155 notes · View notes

zims-left-shoe · 4 years

Note

Hello, I had a really cute idea for a request if you dont mind. Since it's been lockdown and stuff could I get a Zim x S/o where they're finally able to see eachother after isolation. Bonus for fluff if that's ok with you?

This request??? Amazing. Absolute perfection. And of course there’s going to be fluff!! Chaotic and feral Zim is great, but I love me some soft Zim.

Oh, and there’s no specific age here. Could be high school, could be adults, I’ll leave that up to the reader.

Blinking furiously, your eyes eventually settled on a squint as your phone cast painfully bright light into your face. The surrounding comfort of darkness was fended off by the harsh screen you continued to stare at. Nothing had changed in the past hour, nothing new was written. You weren't sure what you were hoping for.

A simple 'FINE' within a chat bubble marked the end of your conversation. Normally, you would snicker to yourself about how he flat out refused to write in lowercase, but the anxiety gnawing at your stomach prevented you from doing so.

Sighing, you rolled onto your side, hanging half off the bed in order to plug your phone in for the night. After that was accomplished, you flopped onto your back, staring into the black abyss that was your bedroom ceiling.

Quarantine had been a lot more difficult than you had originally thought. At first it was fun, you could be as much of an introvert as you wanted and could take care of your responsibilities on your own time and schedule, for the most part anyway. But once the weeks turned into months, and those months began to increase exponentially, it became a problem. Going just a bit stir crazy was bad enough, but the worst part was being unable to see Zim.

Again, at first, you didn't think it would be such a bad thing. He tended to get a bit clingy and possessive, so you thought a little me time would do you some good. But as time stretched onward, you realized that you missed the little roach bastard more than you had anticipated.

Of course you couldn't see him, considering not only the high human-to-human spread, but neither of you were quite sure to the extent Irkens would be affected, if it would be much more dangerous for Zim than an average human. As if that factor wasn't bad enough, Zim was already a huge germaphobe, so he rejected the idea of even socially-distanced hangouts with masks and all that.

So, being responsible and considerate, you had agreed to stick to text communication. It was fine at first, and you both talked regularly. Until about a month ago. Your worries began at the occurrence of two solid weeks of radio silence. Assuming the best, you waved it off as maybe he went to space and therefore couldn't get Earth cell reception. Finally, he had contacted you again, but brushed off any questions regarding the period of being off the grid. However, any response he gave you was short and simple, often a yes or no without elaboration, even to prompts where those answers weren't even valid.

This is where the unease began. Your mind began to run rampant with thoughts on the matter. What if he had gotten tired of you? The reasonable person inside of you told you that if that was indeed the case, then his loss, but that didn't mean you had to be happy about it. Just when you would convince yourself everything was fine, you managed to come back with something else, always a variation of the last negative thought. What if he had realized that he liked being alone, that he missed being a lone wolf soldier focused on destroying the world with no one to care about? You could never fully refute that one. After all, was a genetically modified alien soldier truly content being tied down by something such as a relationship?

The only thing that brought you any solace was that he had reached out to you that morning, requesting your presence at his base. Things had gotten better, allowing for the two of you to meet with contact, person to person. Well, person to Irken. Of course, your brain wouldn't let you enjoy that. It just had to spin some tale that would send you into a spiral of dread. Now, as you laid in your bed, sheets bunched in your fists, you were convinced that he wished to break up with you. Well, at least he had the decency to do so in person, if that even was the case.

You wanted nothing more than to be overjoyed that you would finally be able to see him after all this time. You had become quite attached to Zim, more than you ever would like to admit. You should be filled with excitement. However, you felt nothing but a sinking feeling that made your skin crawl.

"Just...please let me have a good night's sleep, would you?" You pleaded with your mind, shifting onto your side to face your wall, letting your eyes shut tight.

(more under the cut)

Unfortunately, you and your brain have two very different ways of defining 'a good night's sleep'. Trudging into the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead, you couldn't hold back the massive yawn. Stretching, about ten different joints popped as you remembered tossing and turning for a majority of the night. The worst part was the two or so hour period of staring blankly at the ceiling, mind racing with ideas of nothing at all.

Staring at your reflection in the mirror revealed you to be looking like hell...and not on wheels. More like hell discarded on the side of the road next to an empty shopping bag. Dark circles rested under your eyes, which weren't only from the previous night. Your sleep schedule had been almost non-existent thanks to quarantine, some nights you wouldn't surrender to slumber until three in the morning, and other days you would succumb to sleep's tantalizing claws at four pm.

Not to mention that you could barely remember the last time you had worn anything but pajamas or sweats. Groaning, you pulled on presentable clothes, as if this was the largest inconvenience you could ever be faced with. Not that Zim would care, but you didn't want to be shown up in the outfit department by a being from beyond who wore the same saturated pink military uniform every day.

You didn't even bother to glance at the time, it wouldn't matter. Either way, Zim would most likely chide you for being late, even if you were an hour early. You weren't sure if the construct of time even existed in the reality that was Zim's mind. Now that you thought about it, you couldn't say for certain if you had even set a specific time arrangement. All you had agreed upon was to be there some time in the morning.

It didn't matter regardless, he would be there whenever you decided to show up. He hadn't left his base once for the duration of quarantine. Zim had patience when it came to being cooped up for long periods of time, you would give him that much. It was about the only time he had patience, but it counted nonetheless.

That negative feeling wouldn't cease tugging at you as you meandered your way to Zim's base, quite literally dragging your feet down the sidewalk. Occasionally, you would come across a stray stone or pinecone, and you'd strike out with a half-hearted kick, watching it skitter across the pavement.

The entire walk was forgettable, and you had made the trek enough times for your brain to transition into autopilot until you made it to the fence line. The first few times you went to his place were unsettling. Now, you were completely unfazed as the security gnomes eyed you when you padded up the sidewalk, approaching the door. Their beady laser eyes tracked your every breath, but by this point you were unbothered. Besides, you were fairly sure that Zim had put you on the white list, so they shouldn't shoot at you unless it was a direct order.

You pressed the doorbell, folding your hands neatly in front of you as you waited for Zim to answer, scrambling to get a heartfelt speech together in your head. Whatever string of words you had managed to stitch together was thrown out the window when the door swung open, revealing a very animated GIR decked out in his doggy disguise. He frantically waved a black 'paw' to you, a grin splitting his face.

"Hi, Sparky!!" He hollered in your face, greeting you with a name that wasn't yours, per usual. Before you could even open your mouth to respond, he began talking again, in very much an outside voice. A chip right off the old Irken block. "Didja bring the pizza?!" The little robot inspected your arms curiously, stepping around you to make sure you weren't hiding the greasy pie behind your back.

"I, uh, wasn't aware I was supposed to be bringing pizza." You knew this was just an instance of GIR being GIR, but you went along with it anyway. He couldn't help himself, it was just the way he was wired. Or, maybe it was the fact that his brains consisted of useless pocket junk. It didn't really matter. GIR moved back to stand obediently in the doorway, you peering around the frame to see if Zim was anywhere to be found. He wasn't, which only made the nerves worse. Despite your worry, you kept your voice even and neutral. "May I come in?"

"Mhm!" He hummed, jumping aside to let you in. You closed the door behind you, standing around awkwardly for a moment before turning back to GIR, who was already shimmying out of his doggy suit.

"Do you know where Zim is?" Something seemed to click with GIR, however, it was not something that would answer your question. The poor robot burst into tears, which also wasn't out of the ordinary, falling face first into the floor and pounding his metal claw on the tile.

"That boy missed you so much!! He so sad, he even cried!! He loves youuu...!" He wailed, loud enough to draw Minimoose into the room who offered a soft and sad 'Nyah', seemingly agreeing with the statement. You couldn't confirm, since only Zim and GIR were fluent in the language you lovingly called 'Moosinese'. Tears continued to stream down the robot's metal face as he screamed, Minimoose resting a comforting purple nub on his back.

"Is that true?" Your response was calm, having dealt with GIR's outbursts many a time. You couldn't attest to the accuracy of his words, considering correct information was almost similar to a Russian roulette wheel when it came to GIR.

And as if nothing had ever happened, the robot immediately perked up, popping up to his feet with a smile, tongue lolling out the side of his mouth. "Yep!! Master's been down in the base the whole time!! Just sittin' there all shmoopy-like!" A giggle followed, pushing his previous bout of sadness into the past.

"Nyah!" Minimoose showed you a bucktooth grin as he looked to you purposefully.

"Really? Fascinating." Again, you couldn't speak Moosinese, but still, you nodded. The purple moose appeared to be satisfied with your response, floating off to who knows where.

"You wanna come play with the piggy with me?!" GIR bounced up and down, eager to drag you off to roll around on the floor and have a tea party with whatever pig he had brought home this week.

"Maybe some other time, GIR." You weren't opposed to spending time with the little robot, but he wasn't exactly who you were here to see. He didn't seem offended, all he did was shrug his metal shoulders.

"Okie dokie!" He brought his claw up to his forehead in a salute, turning away from you and making a mad dash to the kitchen. You heard a noisy metallic clang echo from the kitchen, and you didn't need to witness the event to visualize GIR smacking face-first into the cabinet.

"Careful, GIR! My milk squid experiment is in there!" A familiar voice rang out from the kitchen, and two immediate questions sprung to mind. The first was why in the name of anything would you keep milk in the cabinet (even if it related to a squid)? The second being just what in the hell had he been doing all this time?

The whiny complaints had quieted to low grumbles as just the alien you wanted to see paced into the living room, eyes cast downwards, antennae drooping. The words that had been forming in your throat were choked into barely a squeak when you got a closer look at him. Zim still didn't seem to notice you, red bug eyes trained on the tile, hands clasped behind his back. That wasn't the surprising bit. A jacket you thought you had lost some time ago was thrown on over his invader uniform. You couldn't remember if maybe you had left it there or maybe Zim had taken without your knowledge, but either way, he was swimming in it. The sleeves were rolled up to meet his wrists, gloved hands peeking out from the fabric. Most of the jacket itself was well past his thighs, stopping just above the knee. It had been just a bit big on you, so of course it would be massive on him. You felt any unease you were feeling immediately leave at the sight. Clearly, he hadn't been enjoying the separation as much as you thought.

"I was wondering where that coat went." A chuckle slipped past your lips. Finally, Zim seemed to notice you, head snapping in your direction, antennae perking up to attention.

"Eh?" He didn't quite register your phrase, almost as if he had been wearing your coat for so long that he had forgotten it wasn't a part of his usual attire. "Y/n, I don't-" Zim looked down at himself, finally realizing why you were staring at him like that. He wriggled out of the jacket faster than you could gush about how adorable it was, throwing it forcefully behind the couch. "YOU CAN'T PROVE ANYTHING!!" He shrieked, pointing a clawed finger at you, antennae flattening against his head in curt embarrassment.

"So, you like my stuff, huh?" You asked cheekily, relishing in his refusal to look at you as he unknowingly clutched the hem of his invader uniform, scuffling his boots on the tile. You couldn't help but snicker. It wasn't often Zim would let himself be sheepish, since he normally knew nothing of shame.

"Nonsense!" He waved a hand dismissively, eyes still refusing to meet yours, although without his contacts, it was a bit hard to tell where exactly he was looking if his head wasn't turned. Crossing his arms tight to his chest, he wracked his brain for possible excuses. "I was just, er, working on repairs and didn't want to get my clothes dirty! Yes! I found this filthy piece of clothing and figured it would suffice." You rolled your eyes, knowing full well he would never admit to the true motivations behind his actions.

Lucky for you, someone else chimed in to voice your exact thoughts. "That's a lie." The computer spoke up from nowhere in particular, monotone voice bringing a growl to rise from Zim's throat.

"YOU'RE LYING!! There is no evidence of this!" The Irken jabbed a claw up towards the direction of the many cables and wires strung across the ceiling. This wouldn't be the first time you've witnessed him get into a spat with his computer. They could be quite entertaining to watch, actually.

"Proof." The computer said in a matter-of-fact tone, the gargantuan TV screen buzzing to life, static clearing to reveal a recording of internal base camera feed. The date was in Irken, but you were wise enough to surmise that it was from some time over the quarantine.

The screen displays Zim begrudgingly wandering over to the voot cruiser in the hangar. In the video feed, he looks decently depressed, antennae slack and hanging limp, posture slouched. He climbed into the ship, looking for something. Whatever it was, his search came to an unresolved end as he lifted your jacket from the seat. Apparently, you had left it in there the last time he had taken you for a flight. His eyes darted around to make sure he wasn't being watched, slipping on the coat and hugging his arms to his chest. The sleeves extended well past his hands. He brought them to his face, sniffing them. A delighted smile ghosted his mouth as he rubbed the sleeves against his face.

"Why would you record that?!" His voice cracked at the end, and you were trying your best to hold in a laugh as the TV faded back to static for a split second before opening on another instance.

This time the video depicted GIR and Zim sprawled out on the couch, watching something on the TV. Zim was wrapped in your coat as if it were a blanket, seeming to be content enough with it. GIR had reached out a claw for the article of clothing, wishing to share. Zim hissed, yanking the coat away from his grip, swiping a clawed hand out like a cat. Clearly, he wanted it all to himself.

This time you couldn’t stop yourself from laughing. You tried to apologize, especially since the Irken standing next to you looked absolutely horrified. You were sure he felt his dignity had just faded away right along with the video feed.

"Oh, and my personal favorite." The computer added helpfully as yet another recording presented itself on the TV. This one was a bit tougher to make out.

Zim was down in the depths of the base, and much was dark, the only light being cast from a large monitor just off screen. You were able to see Zim, sitting on the floor, sporting your jacket. He stared longingly at the sleeves that covered his hands. After a moment he shoved his face into his arms and knees as tears slipped down his face. You could only make out the tears due to the light being thrown from the monitor, making them glisten like jewels. Separation appeared to be much harder on him than you had thought. Maybe that was why he had been ignoring you, although it seemed counterproductive. It was possible that texting you made him miss you more.

Zim was not amused in the slightest by this particular clip. He stamped his foot on the tile, making frenzied cutting motions with his arms.

"COMPUTER!!!" His voice was high in volume, but a nervous chuckle laced each syllable. "I think that is quite enough!"

The computer groaned, cutting the feed back to static, eventually switching the TV off completely. "I was just trying to be accurate."

"You only seem to care about accuracy when it is of no benefit to Zim!!" You could only imagine what was going through Zim's head in the moment, because from the outside, he was a ball of red hot rage. However, the computer was having none of his antics, going dormant once more.

"Zim? You're up here." You raised a hand above your head to indicate his anger level. "I need you to be down here." You lowered your hand to your abdomen, knowing that was a complete stretch to ask for. Especially since he was so upset he was stringing together curses in Irken. He would only speak in his native tongue around you when he was incredibly furious. His teeth were gritted tightly, foot tapping audibly on the tile.

"That damn computer." His growl was closer to that of a feral animal, and although he was calm enough to speak in English, he still required some de-escalation.

"Relax, we'll just pretend it never happened."

"Good. Forget about those recordings." His eyes were narrowed, but he was relenting his irritation.

"What recordings?" You shrugged, a smile playing at the corners of your mouth. Zim seemed appeased, and in a split second, all of his anger was gone and replaced by something else entirely. All the fight seemed to leave his body as he looked to you, red eyes softening completely when they caught your own. He seemed relieved to see you, as if being away was one of the hardest things he had been through in years.

Wordlessly, he strode over to you, wrapping his arms around you and burying his face into your chest. Soft Zim was a rare occurrence, but these moments were something you absolutely treasured. It almost made the months of isolation worth it.

You returned the action, and the second you put your arms around him, every muscle in his body relaxed. It was a bit strange, really. To have a hardened alien soldier all but melt in your arms. He wrapped his legs around you as well, clinging to you like a koala. It wasn't hard to maintain balance since he really wasn't all that heavy.

"Couch." He mumbled, his chin resting on your shoulder as his arms were draped around your neck, your own arms supporting him under his legs. A chuckle fell from your lips at his behavior. At first it seemed like he had no energy, but in reality, it was closer to him being soothed by your presence. You were about the only living creature, scratch that, the only thing in the entire universe that could ease him like this; even he wasn't sure why you had this effect on him.

"Sure thing." You walked him over to the couch, using one arm to snag your jacket off the floor before sinking down into the cushions. There was a bit of a strange smell emanating from where you sat, most likely due to GIR spilling countless snacks, messes that weren't completely cleaned up. It wasn't super potent, and in that particular moment, it wasn't one of your concerns.

As you sat on the couch, Zim remained cuddled into you. A snicker slipped out as you tossed your coat over him as if it were a blanket. At first you assumed he would protest, proclaiming that he wasn't cold, nor a weak little smeet who needs to be cared for. So when he removed his arms from you, you were bracing yourself for a lecture and/or rant. However, all he did was tuck the jacket around him better, silently snaking his arms back around you afterward.

"You really did miss me, huh?" It was a redundant question, since without even saying, you both were aware of the answer. Still, you wished to hear him say it. It would put you in good spirits.

"Your absence was...not pleasant." His voice was uncharacteristically hushed, muffled by your clothes. His words were chosen delicately, as they always were when he didn't want to admit to something that he knew to be true.

"So you missed me." The smile that was spread on your face shone through your voice.

"If that is what you would like to think." Zim made an attempt at being snarky, but any mockery in his words was half-hearted at best. Breathing a sigh, you let your head fall back against the back of the couch. You knew full well that was the best you could hope to glean from him, even in his current subdued state.

"For the record, I missed you too."

"As you should. Zim is very great." Looking down, you were met with a sight that melted your heart. The coat still wrapped around him, arms still clinging to you as if you would walk out any minute. Zim's eyes were closed as he laid his head in your lap, quiet purrs rising from his throat as your fingers absentmindedly played with his antennae. You almost thought he would fall asleep.

"I know. You're the coolest Irken I know." You may have only known one, but still. Zim was pretty amazing in your book, despite being a self-absorbed idiot at times. A pleasant silence settled over the room for a moment as you continued to twirl his antennae between your fingers.

His eyes still closed, Zim spoke again, mumbling, "Zim's next plan is to eradicate these abhorrent human pandemics." The words slurred together a bit, and although you knew Irkens to not sleep due to lack of biological necessity, whenever he was completely relaxed, he tended to get drowsy.

"Good luck with that. I support your efforts one hundred percent." Despite the first statement harboring a twinge of sarcasm, the second was completely genuine.

"Does Zim detect a hint of ridicule?" His words may have been a challenge, but not a single eye opened even a crack, not a single muscle in his body so much as twitching.

"All I'm saying is I haven't seen much progress on your original plan of eradicating the humans, and it's been how many years?"

"Quiet or I'll steal another one of your inferior human zip-cloth thingies." He may not have technically stolen the first one, but you had to make a mental note to keep track of your jackets and hoodies. Or at the very least, make sure to keep the ones you wore often out of reach. You supposed in the end it didn't really matter. You would know where to find them if they did happen to go missing. And besides, he did look rather cute in them.

#invader zim #invader zim fanfiction #invader zim x reader #zim x reader #invader zim fic #invader zim one shot #invader zim oneshot #one shot #oneshot #fanfic #fanfiction #request

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bitterepiphany · 3 years

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may i request a lil something about armin & mikasa coping/bonding after eren left them :’)

omg omg i had such a great time writing this!!! i ADORE these two and i love love love their friendship :))) hope you like it!!! p.s. ily marry me after <3<3<3

Archive Of Our Own

you’re here, and that’s enough

Warnings: A mention of self-harm. Nothing is described, but it is implied.

Summary: eren has disappeared, leaving armin and mikasa to struggle alone. mikasa can't cope. armin is there to be her shoulder to cry on

The day Eren walked out of the International Forum, they had initially assumed he just wanted to get some fresh air. Only Mikasa’s gaze had lingered on his retreating back for longer than the other’s, prompting a gentle tug on her arm from Armin, who just shook his head softly.

“He’s okay,” he whispered, “He probably just wants some fresh air… we did have a big night last night.” Armin rubbed the back of his neck sheepishly, still feeling the aftermath of their ‘drunken shenanigans’ - as Hange had put it - in his pounding head and sore throat from the bile that his stomach had upended promptly after he woke up. Though he definitely didn’t have the worst of it; Sasha, Connie and Jean looked barely conscious as they slumped in their seats, cradling their heads in their arms and leaning discreetly on each other’s shoulders.

His words did little to ease the worry in Mikasa’s eyes, but she straightened in her seat, meeting Armin’s eyes briefly and gave a small nod.

****

It became apparent that Eren did not simply just want some fresh air. When he failed to return to the Forum, the group made haste to leave as soon as it finished, with the hope that he would just be waiting for them outside. What followed was a frantic rush around the city searching - searching shops, the markets, bars, back alleys, anywhere a broody 19-year-old Eldian would be hiding to get away from his responsibilities. They didn’t stop searching until a resigned-looking Levi had to physically force the panicking Hange to listen to Onyankopon; the sun was beginning to set, and it would raise suspicion if the boat they planned to commandeer back to Paradis lingered in the harbour for too much longer.

Armin was baffled. To say that Eren had literally vanished into thin air was not an exaggeration. The group had lulled into a shocked stupor; they had no idea what to do. Armin could see that Levi, despite his carefully schooled calm expression, was fuming - it couldn’t help that Hange, who, as commander, would face all sorts of awful questioning back home, looked utterly devastated; they had put enough trust in Eren to bring him along and not to do anything rash, and it just blew up in their face.

The person Armin was more concerned about, however, was Mikasa. She had transitioned into that unnaturally calm demeanor he had only seen when she thought Eren was dead all those years ago in Trost, and subsequently whenever he had gotten himself kidnapped by Reiner and Bertholdt, and Rod Reiss, respectively. She had searched for him with a frightening intensity, barely uttering a single word the entire time, that look ever present on her face.

Now Mikasa stood on the docks, facing back towards the city, eyes roaming over the buildings, as if Eren would simply appear in a doorway and stride out to join them. Armin carefully walked over to her side. She didn’t acknowledge him initially, continuing her silent search of the city landscape, but Armin knew that she could tell he was there.

Armin felt a wave of guilt rise up in his chest as he looked at her. What if he hadn’t stopped her from following him out of the assembly hall? There’d be no way Eren could have escaped Mikasa if she had been there with him. He should have known, should have seen that something was amiss with Eren, should have seen the signs somehow. But there was nothing he could do now.

He reached out and touched her arm. “Mikasa?”

She closed her eyes for a moment. Mikasa turned to him. For a moment, Armin saw behind the blank look in her eyes. He saw the raw pain in them, the terror at being left behind, once again. Suddenly, he was back atop Wall Rose, steam burns stinging painfully on his cheeks, struggling to find the words to say to comfort a younger, scared Mikasa as she came to terms with the fact there was nothing she could do to get Eren back this time.

Armin said nothing for a few moments, and just looked at her. She seemed to crack even more under his gaze, her face twisting, lines of worry and misery forming, her eyes betraying her internal conflict.

“Armin…” Her voice was barely a whisper, hardly rising above the gentle sounds of waves beneath the dock they stood upon. “What am I supposed to do? Wh-why did he leave? What did I-”

“Mikasa,” he interrupted, knowing where her thoughts were taking her. “You didn’t do anything wrong. I promise. We’ve done all we can, and -” he reached out again and took her hand “- now I guess... all we can do is hope that Eren knows what he’s doing.”

Mikasa stared at their hands, mouth opening to protest, but he squeezed her fingers firmly; she looked at him again, before her shoulders sagged. “I guess so,” she breathed. Finally, she looked away from the city skyline and turned to face the rest of the group. Just in time, as Onyankopon appeared on the deck on the boat, calling them over.

“We’ve only got thirty minutes to get out of here before they start asking questions!” he yelled, “I’m sorry, but we either leave Eren here, wherever he is, or we leave you all here!”

Hange looked over them all, their eyes lingering on Mikasa with concern. They glanced at Armin, who nodded slightly. “Ok guys, it’s time to go...” they announced heavily, “There’s nothing else we can do.”

“Quit your moping, brats.” Levi glared at them all in turn. His eyes softened slightly. “Let’s just go home.”

They traipsed up the gangplank, Jean, Connie and Sasha heading below deck immediately, finding themselves prone to seasickness due to the unfamiliar, jarring feeling of the boat rocking over waves. Armin’s hand was still linked with Mikasa’s, and she trailed behind him slowly, head hanging miserably. Armin found the movement of sea travel to be soothing, the rolling waves fascinating to look at. Mikasa and Levi didn’t seem to mind either, but Armin suspected it was due to their Ackerman genes that kept them from getting an upset stomach.

Armin led his subdued friend over to some crates overlooking the bow of the ship, as Onyankopon, Hange and Levi called out to each other as they prepared to set off. They took a seat, Armin’s eyes tracking a sea bird as it glided on the breeze over their heads.

Mikasa was quiet, but Armin could see the shaking of small tremors in her hunched shoulders. He ran his thumb softly over her knuckles, every callous and scar lining her palm pressed up against his own.

He didn’t let go of Mikasa’s hand the entire trip back.

****

Months passed, and the only indication they received that Eren wasn’t dead in some ditch was a singular letter, - detailing nothing much but the fact that they should entrust Zeke with everything - arriving at the island a few days after they returned. After Armin and Mikasa had confirmed that, yes that was indeed Eren’s handwriting, they had been swamped in meetings with a whole range of officials ranging from Queen Historia to the damned Reeves Company, all demanding how on earth they had fucked up so badly that they had allowed their most vital asset and bargaining chip of the Founding Titan to simply run away.

Being stationed in seperate divisions following the incident - Armin in HQ assisting Hange with strategy and official business; Mikasa in the field training new Scouts recruits - Armin scarcely had the chance to see his best friend. He was concerned for her, and if those few days after receiving that letter were any indication of her mental health, he could only imagine how she was doing at the moment.

As soon as she had read it, Mikasa had become concerningly withdrawn. She only appeared among the group if she had to for meetings, and as far as Armin was aware, she hid in her room any other time. He had tried to talk to her, but she never opened her locked door or was evasive and distant with him during short breaks in between meetings.

He lost his chance to really try and talk to her when they were separated, and now three months had passed, work just keeping him glued to a desk or at Hange’s side. But he resolved to ask for some leave to join Mikasa, who was assisting Levi near Shiganshina in the wildernesses of Wall Maria.

He approached Hange’s office, running over his excuses on how he was going to convince them to let him go. He resolved to just tell them the truth, since Hange would likely see through any feeble lie he made up. Armin reached their office, and knocked on the door.

“Come on in!”

Hange was perched atop their desk, examining a wad of paper. Upon seeing who it was, they grinned and hopped down.

“Armin! I was just about to go find you, did you look over those reports from the new recruits near Karanes?” Hange walked behind their desk, rummaging around for a second and pulling out a tin. They opened it up, and Armin spotted what looked like biscuits. Hange offered him one, and he took it.

He bit into it, letting the sugary taste fill his mouth. “Yeah, I saw those reports, I’ll bring you my notes on them after this.” He rubbed the back of his neck, scratching at his undercut. “But I wanted to ask you about something else.”

Hange nodded, mouth full. “Oh yeah, go on?”

“Honestly? I know it’s been a couple of months since we went to Marley, but I’m really worried about Mikasa,” he explained, “I could tell she wasn’t doing too well back then, and I just don’t know… she’s never been this long without being with him, and - “

Hange waved their hand at him, cutting him off. “Say no more Armin, I understand, I understand.” They bit into another biscuit thoughtfully. “Levi hasn’t said much about her in his updates apart from standard stuff, but I’m sure he hasn’t had much luck in getting her to open up either… Do you want to head out to them tomorrow?”

“Oh!” Armin was surprised at how willingly they agreed. “I mean if there’s anything else you need me to do before I go -”

“No, no, it’s fine Armin, seriously,” Hange insisted, “I mean I hate to lose such a diligent worker like you, but I know you’re probably the only one who can get Mikasa back to her old self… well, as much as she can without Eren…”

Armin smiled, nodding. “Thank you so much Hange, really.”

Hange just ushered him out of their office, stuffing another biscuit into his hand.

He began to walk down the hall. “Oh Armin, before you go!”

Armin turned back. Hange grinned mischievously, a glint in their eye. “How is she? You know -” she gestured to the ground, finger pointing downward.

“O-oh well -” Armin blushed, hand tugging at his hair. “Uh, she’s-”

Hange cackled, waving him off.

****

The trip to Wall Maria took him less than a day by horse, and he arrived at the Southern Survey Corps training grounds at sundown. Jean, who alternated his time between this camp and the eastern one near Karanes, rode out to meet him as he arrived, and he updated him on the state of things. Apparently, Captain Levi had the recruits renovating an abandoned barn, and was even harsher with his cleaning regimes than he was when they were part of his squad. Jean chuckled as he recounted Mikasa’s attempts to give the kids an easier time by sneaking in extra rags, changing water discreetly, and helping them carry around the splintered planks of wood, much to Levi’s annoyance.

They were rubbing down their horses Jean sighed. “You know, sometimes I miss those days when we were all together in Levi Squad.”

Armin paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, we still technically are part of his squad, but…”

“It’s not the same,” Jean nodded, “Not when we’re split up all over the place like this. Heh, remember when we were on the run and had to scamper around in the wilderness for a couple of days?”

Armin chuckled, recalling how Levi still somehow managed to get on their asses about keeping themselves clean while they slept huddled together under trees in the dirt.

“Yeah… somehow, those days seem more laid back than what we have to do now, in a way,” he said, making his way to the mess hall with Jean. “Oh, by the way, how’s Mikasa doing?”

Jean, who’s hand was reaching to open the door, paused. He looked over at Armin, sighing. “She’s the reason you came, right?” he asked.

Armin nodded.

“Well, she’s -“ he ran his fingers through his hair tiredly “- she’s not okay. She tries to hide it, but we can all tell that she’s barely coping. She won’t open up to us, or anyone, not even Levi.” He looked over at Armin again and punched him gently on the arm. “But you’re here now, you little silver tongued snake!”

Armin snorted, stepping inside the hall behind Jean. The recruits were still at dinner, and chatter ceased abruptly as they looked over at the new arrivals. Armin and Jean spotted Levi and Mikasa eating on the other side of the hall, and they raised their hands in greeting.

“Oi! Brats!” Levi’s voice rang across the room. “Where’s your respect? An important guest just arrived and you just ignore him?” He strode to Armin’s side and gestured to him. “This is Officer Armin Arlert, he’ll be here for a few weeks to help you twats out, okay?”

The sound of wood scraping on wood filled the room as the recruits hurried to their feet. They saluted. “Sir!”

Armin saluted back, still not used to being a higher rank than these kids who weren’t much younger than him. He turned to Levi. “It’s good to see you Captain.” The older man just nodded at him, glancing at his shoes.

“You didn’t track in dirt, did you?” Armin shook his head, smiling. Levi looked over at Jean, who was getting food. “Tsk... Jean! Get Arlert a plate too!”

Armin made his way to the table, where Mikasa sat. She looked up at him, eyes wide. They just looked at each other for a moment, Armin trying to see how she was before he said anything.

“Mika -”

She jumped up suddenly, and wrapped Armin in a tight hug. The tension left his body, and he hugged her back, smiling as she rested her cheek on top of his head. “Hey… I missed you,” he mumbled.

Her arms tightened around him. “I missed you too, Armin.”

****

The night had passed without event, Armin, Jean, and Mikasa chatting about what they had been up to the past few months, laughing together when Levi roused on the recruits for making a mess of the food hall. As they helped clean up, Armin scrubbing dishes, when Levi approached him and pulled him aside. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

“Look Armin, I couldn’t say anything to you right in front of her, but I know why you’re here and I’m glad you came.” Levi sighed and crossed his arms. “She’s not good, and she’s a shitty-ass liar too, so everyone can tell. I’ve tried, but she won’t tell me jack, so all I can really do is try and keep her busy out here.”

Armin nodded understandingly. “It’s okay Captain, I’m sure it's better for her to be doing things rather than just… being alone with her thoughts,” he mused, “But I’ll talk to her, see if I can make her feel any better.”

“I’m holding you to that, brat,” Levi groused. He jabbed a finger out at Armin’s chest. “I won’t let you leave till she’s back in somewhat working order, you hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

Levi snorted, gracing Armin with one of his rare half-smiles, before ushering him back into the hall to continue cleaning. Armin hummed. He supposed Levi cared about her in his own, special way - after all, they were each other’s only family left, and it couldn’t have felt good for Levi to see the only soldier who came close to his strength in such a state.

He returned to washing the dishes, and couldn’t help the warmth spreading through his chest as Levi smacked Jean across his head for disrupting a massive dust pile and causing all the recruits to sneeze. He caught Mikasa’s eye and that warmth only grew when she cracked a grin at him he couldn’t help but return.

I guess some things never change, huh?

****

Mikasa walked him to where he would be sleeping in the officer’s quarters after the recruit’s curfew. They paused in front of the door. Armin glanced back at her. That closed off look had returned to her features. “Come in,” he offered as he turned the handle.

“‘Kay”

The room was fairly spacious, with a decently-sized bed, a cupboard, and a desk in the corner. Armin flicked the lamp on and it filled the room with a soft amber glow. Shucking off his jacket and shoes as Mikasa did the same, he clambered onto the bed, looking up at her and patting the covers next to him. She seemed to hesitate slightly, before sighing minutely and settled next to him.

Realising he had no idea how to start this conversation with her without bringing up really sensitive topics, they sat in silence for a while. Then, Armin felt her slender fingers brush lightly through his hair, rubbing his bangs between her digits.

“Remember when I used to braid this for you when it was longer?”

Armin smiled, recalling the days before he cut his hair shorter, and Mikasa would sit him down and braid it back for him during times when he couldn’t get a trim and it would start to get in the way.

“Yeah,” he murmured, “You were always really good at that kind of stuff…”

She hummed. “Sometimes I miss your old hair..”

“Really?” He scoffed. “I don’t, it was ridiculous! I looked like a blonde coconut!”

She chuckled at that, tousling his hair roughly and eliciting a small squeak of protest from his mouth. “It suited you though, you were cute.”

Armin blushed slightly, peeking at her shyly. Mikasa was beautiful. Always had been. She possessed this fluid elegance that graced her movements, making it seem like everything she did came so naturally to her. Armin wasn’t afraid to admit that for a time after he first met Mikasa - back at the tender age of nine - he had become pretty infatuated with her. Maybe it was her exotic beauty, or the way she always was willing to patiently listen to him ramble on about the books he read, or maybe it was the fact that she was so willing to stand up and fight for a small, weakling boy like him, that she barely knew, but he became smitten almost instantly.

He had never pursued his feelings, knowing immediately after a few weeks of being friends with her how she felt about Eren. The crush had lingered for a few years though, fading into the background, and eventually snuffing out when they joined the Cadets. He still harboured his feelings of admiration towards her, and remained super happy whenever they spent time together. Rather than protest Mikasa’s motherly tendencies towards them like Eren did, Armin accepted it instead, embraced it even, understanding that she just wanted to protect the remaining family she had left in this world. She always seemed to be grateful for that.

Now Mikasa was as good as his sister, and he hated seeing the way that her smiles faded off her face too fast, hated the hollow look in her eyes as she retreated behind that mask of loneliness and helplessness.

“Mikasa,” he murmured. She looked at him. “You need to talk to me.”

She averted her eyes quickly, turning her face. There was a pause. “Talk about what?”

Armin frowned. Slowly, so not to startle her, he reached his hand out and caught her cheek, turning it back to face him. Their eyes met. “You know saying that won’t work on me right?” She just looked at him, eyes wide. He could feel her tremble under his fingers. “I’m here, Mikasa.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Her face crumpled, and broken sobs ripped out of her throat. She collapsed into him, head landing on his chest, and he gathered her into his arms and just held her. Armin adjusted so she was curled up in his lap, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder, hands balled so tightly in his shirt he wouldn’t be surprised if he found it ripped later. He settled his chin atop her head, fingers stroking the hair on the nape of her neck, slowly, soothingly.

Armin let her cry, allowed her to let out those body-shaking sobs, letting her release what must be months of awful, pent-up feelings. Slowly, her tears subsided, leaving her sniffly and trembling. Armin rubbed small, gentle circles on her back, and she shifted, raising her face off his chest and wiping at her eyes and nose.

Mikasa glanced sheepishly up at him, mouth parting to form words. Armin’s finger pressed against her lips, stifling them. “Don’t apologise,” he said quietly, “It’s okay.”

Her breath hitched awkwardly, and she swiped at her eyes again. “I-I just don’t know what I’m doing anymore,” Mikasa whispered thickly. “I feel like it’s all my fault, like I should have done something, said something, be-before he-” she broke off again, new tears leaking down her cheeks.

“Hey, hey…” Armin soothed, thumbing away the liquid on her face. “I told you before, you did - you’re doing - everything you could.” He lightly brushed her hair out of her eyes, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Mikasa…” he mumbled against her skin, “You’re here, and that’s enough.”

Her shoulders trembled, and she buried her face against his body again, tears soaking into the fabric of his shirt. Armin held her like before, until her body relaxed against his, and her breathing evened out. She had fallen asleep.

Careful not to wake her, Armin lay down, keeping her wrapped in his arms, and reached behind him to flick off the lamp. Darkness swept across the room, and Armin settled against her, burying his face in her hair.

Mikasa had always smelt of home, of the scent of fresh-baked goods wafting down the back of a Shiganshina alley-way, stone streets wet with the rain from an afternoon shower, of a crackling fireplace in the winter, and of exotic market spices that would make his nose tingle in curious ways. He closed his eyes, breathing her in, breathing home in, allowing her to sweep him up in it, the steady rhythm of her breathing lulling him to sleep.

****

The weeks passed in a happy blur following that night. Mikasa emerged from her cocoon of misery and returned, for the most part, to her normal self. Armin spent almost all his time with her, just enjoying each other’s company, letting themselves forget some of the outside worries, focusing instead on the recruits, Levi, and the rotating members of their squad that came to train with them. Both Sasha and Connie had arrived, stayed for a few days, and been on their way respectively, and had both been ecstatic to hear that Mikasa was doing better. Sasha was so happy she had hoisted Armin over her shoulder and paraded him around, yelling about how he was a magician.

Ever since that first night, where the recruits had witnessed them hug openly, whispers and giggles followed them around whenever they were together - which was basically all the time. Their openly affectionate nature towards each other didn’t help dispel the rumors that Armin was Mikasa’s lover, either. He heard enough envious groans from both male and female recruits alike that sometimes he teased them by making a show of linking his and Mikasa’s arms together as they walked, or randomly giving her surprise hugs from behind. They just laughed it off together, even more amused with the fact that Levi would ‘tsk’ loudly in annoyance whenever he heard the teenagers gossiping.

But their little bubble of contentedness would pop occasionally, and the reality of their situation would sink in. It truly hit Armin hard how badly Mikasa had been struggling when she approached him one afternoon, and wordlessly handed him a small box. His eyes widened when he realised what it contained, the sight of the small metal blades breaking his heart. He felt tears prick his eyes, and he pulled her into a long, bone-crushing hug, only letting her go when Levi had approached them, worried that something had happened.

Mikasa came to his room on some nights, quietly slipping through the door with her cat-like grace, padding across the floor and curling up under the covers with him. Armin asked no questions, and they rarely talked on these occasions; he would just wrap his arms around her and they’d breathe each other in, presence alone being enough to soothe them to sleep.

Duty called though, and the day he had to return to HQ came quicker than either of them would have liked. But as they said their goodbye’s Armin held her close and promised he would visit more often, even looking over at Levi and saying he’d try and bring Hange along, much to the older man's delight - if his exasperated snort was anything to go by.

“I’ll come up too,�� Mikasa said, linking her fingers with his as he mounted his horse. “It’ll be good to take these kids out, and I’m sure even old grandpa over there is getting sick of this place.”

“Oi brat, I heard that!”

Armin chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Promise me you’ll find me if you ever need to talk about anything?”

“Promise.”

She smiled and waved as he rode away, remaining in the same spot, watching him as she grew smaller and smaller over his shoulder, until she disappeared from sight entirely.

****

Mikasa made good on her promise to visit, and she and Armin spent the months alternating travelling north and south to visit for a few days at a time in between work. She seemed to enjoy her time at HQ, sometimes showing the recruits around and helping Levi and Hange assign them tasks, or just hung out with Armin in his office. She helped him with his work on occasion, or she would clear the floor and start doing push-ups or something similar while Armin read over reports, much to his bewilderment and her amusement. Other times they would just hang out; play silly games; sneak food in and eat; or they would sprawl on the floor and he would read books out loud to her.

He took her to see Annie in the basement once. She just stood there, gazing up at the crystallised girl, eyes contemplative. She didn’t say anything, and simply watched as Armin went through his usual routine, recounting what he had been up to since he had visited last, reading snippets from the newspaper, and reciting random facts about things that popped into his head. Hitch wasn’t in today, so it was just him and Mikasa. Armin could feel Mikasa’s gaze on him as he went through the motions, and he struggled to look her in the eye after they exited the basement, afraid to think about what sort of truths he would find in her steel-grey eyes.

It was during one of those lazy afternoons when they were leant up against each other, Armin reading some fantasy novel about a prince going on a quest to save a princess, when Hange suddenly burst through the door, looking frantic. Armin jerked and looked up at them, only to feel his stomach drop as he saw what they clutched in their hand.

A letter. And Armin recognised the messy scrawl on the envelope.

****

So then they were huddled together on the rocking airship, Armin shifting uncomfortably in the new ODM gear. He thought about what he was going to in just over an hour. He thought about all the people he was about to kill.

Mikasa looked over at him, and he knew that she was aware of his thoughts. She shifted closer to him, covering one of his hands with her own. He looked up at her, and tried to smile reassuringly.

“Armin,” she said suddenly, breaking their silence. “I will stay with you, if you want me to. I can support you with what you have to do.”

His eyes locked on to hers with surprise. “What?” he exclaimed, “You can’t do that, you need to be there to take out the Warhammer!” He gritted his teeth and squeezed her hand. “I’ll be fine, don’t worry. The plan should hold out fine. Plus, Eren’ll end up doing something stupid and dying if you aren’t there to help him out.”

Mikasa huffed slightly at that, a small smile gracing her lips. Her hands reached up and parted his bangs, and she pressed a kiss to his forehead. “We’re here, together, and that’s enough, right?”

Armin looked at her, his sister, his best friend, his rock, his one constant throughout their crazy lives. He smiled.

“Yeah. Together.”

#requests #arumika #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #hurt and comfort #they are the best besties ever i love them so much #their friendship is superior you can't convince me otherwise

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aerielz · 3 years

Text

come and untangle me one of these days

- a dream. a mistake. company, to make it better.

This is for and because of everyone in the original Flower Shop!AU post notes, specially @claudiasjeancregg and @stars-on-the-cuffs-of-her-jeans. You guys went waaaay too fast and I’m still trying to put Donna in here let alone everyone else, but I do hope everyone enjoys this! Title from Come and Find Me, by Josh Ritter. I feel like everything I’ll ever write for this AU will be somehow based off this song, tbh.

fandom: the west wing pairings: JD, CJ/Toby wc: 2453 rating: gen tag: flowershop au

He wakes up at the crack of dawn, stirred by some weird dream he can’t quite remember — some bittersweet memory. The coffee he takes washes away the sweetness and he’s left with only the bitter of it, stuck to the back of his throat.

He leaves the house, then. The streets are still somewhat deserted, but, much like his hometown, DC never really sleeps. Toby walks the five minutes from his house to the shop, and watches as the sun comes up behind the Capitol dome.

Walking into the storefront proves itself a bigger hazard than his own mood, though, as he is almost run over by a flurry of blonde as soon as he steps through the threshold— “Wow.”

“Oh, I’m so sorry!,” Donna is already there, crossing quickly towards a table under the wall-to-wall window with a spray bottle in hand and talking into a phone she holds with her shoulder. “Oh— no, no, don’t worry, that was just Mr. Ziegler. Yes, of course. Yeah. Yeah, I’ll let him know, don’t— tomorrow? That should be hard, how about Saturday? Okay. Okay, thank you so much, Dr. Bartlett.”

“Donna,” he says when she hangs up.

“Shouldn’t we receive a shipment of sunflowers this weekend?” She sprays a mist over an arrangement of daisies.

It's too early for this. Too early for and her energy and her incessant talking, but somehow Toby can never be mad at Donna. Even when she sends congratulatory arrangements to funerals by accident. Even when she turns around still spraying, causing him to find himself inside a cloud.

“Donna—”

“We’ll sure need them, Dr. Bartlett just called saying that Liz will be home for the weekend.”

"How many times I have to tell you to never call me Mr. Ziegler?"

"Should I call you Mr. Grumpy, then?"

"It's Mr. nothing, Donna."

"Oh, c'mon. Don’t be so harsh on yourself,” she jokes. But her quip lacks the bite and the sparkle, and Toby finally notices it — she was here before sunup, too.

He barely has time to register the conversation and that last fact when the bell above the door rings behind him. His heart skips a beat.

Donna looks up to check and her eyes widen, just a little bit. Just enough.

“Oh, God, no, not him,” he mutters to himself.

“Can anyone tell me what magnolias are supposed to stand for?”

Toby sighs, closing his eyes.

“This is a flower shop,” he says, turning around, “can’t say much about trees.”

Josh Lyman, arrogant extraordinaire, flashes a smirk, shrugging apologetically. "Maybe you should start thinking about expanding."

He swagger his way further into the shop, stopping just beside him.

“I—,” she says, putting a strand of hair behind her ear, “Well, actually flowers from magnolias are very common in bridal bouquets. They’re these beautiful, delicate, things, they’re supposed to be all about purity and nobility.”

This is why he keeps her here, Toby thinks. For every fact about flowers that he doesn’t know, Donna knows five he’s pretty sure no one but her knows about. But she looks down to the floor, and Toby thinks she sounds sad, somehow.

“Well, that..." Josh’s smirk quickly turns into a grimace. "That makes sense."

“The more you know,” he says, clapping his hands against his legs. "Well, you got your answer, then."

"Yeah, maybe... maybe we should focus on some other flower," Josh says.

Toby is more than ready to focus on showing Josh the door when—

The bell rings again.

Sam walks in, saying, "Oh. And here I was thinking I was gonna be the first."

Toby runs a hand over his face and takes a glance at his wristwatch. It’s barely seven. "Why are you all even up?"

"No reason," Josh answers. It's way too quick, but he's not about to question him.

"The magnolias, they..." Donna looks up directly at Josh, "Why you ask?"

"I— uh."

"Magnolias!," chimes in Sam, leaving his shoulder bag in a corner and sitting on top of the sales counter, right beside Donna, "Such pretty flowers! We're doing bridal bouquets, now? We should, the marriage stuff really is great business."

"Oh, God, no," Josh mutters.

"It really is!,” Sam continues, “There’s definitely money in the sector, and it’s not like it’s an unpleasant job. Donna here, for example, would love it. Anyone with a knack for romance would, really.”

“You work the afternoon shift,” Toby tells Sam, exasperated and already so, so, tired. “On weekends. What the hell are you doing here?”

“I have no idea, Josh was the one who called me.”

“And you came?”

"Absolutely," says Sam, almost triumphant. “I mean why not?”

“I can think of at least, I don’t know, twenty reasons.”

“Well, I like to help my friends when I can, Toby. For the same reasons I think we should really start doing weddings.”

“Unbelievable,” he cries out, “How did we even get to this point of the conversation, we are not doing weddings, what’s wrong with you?”

“I’m a romantic—”

“Yeah, that explains it.”

“—and you know what, I think you are one, too. I think most, if not all, of us here are. Or you're gonna tell me you wouldn't like the sight of the love of your life, surrounded by blooms and blossoms, walking her way towards you? Or, or— maybe doing that walk yourself, that would probably be quite an experience, right? C’mon, Donna, you look like someone who dreams about a big wedding, tell ‘em."

"I... really rather not."

"God, kill me. Right now," Josh mutters a bit too loud, "Just kill me."

Toby notices, strangely enough, that Donna seems to second that thought, but the impression barely has time to settle in because at that exact moment the door opens again. But instead of the light, almost quiet, chime of the bell, they hear a sharp shrill and a loud thud, from the door connecting violently with the wall.

"Joshua Lyman, I will have you hanged," a familiar voice booms.

"I didn’t mean literally," Josh whispers to no one.

"What the actual f— I mean, really, I am never leaving you in charge of the schedule again. Amy just called me asking for your head and I’m pretty sure Joey wants your nuts served on sterling silver — why the hell did you think it was a good idea to have everyone here at like six in the morning, Joshua?"

“Look—”

“Choose your next words carefully because in order for you to keep your internal organs on the inside of your body this will have to be really good.”

His answer ends up not coming in words at all, but in a pleading look — the wide eyes of a man who needs help.

The room awaits silently for Josh's defense, but Toby is looking at CJ, who, for some reason, seems to have a monopoly on his attention whenever she's in the room. And so he catches the moment when her gazes subtly travel to Donna's face. He follows just as carefully, to find her sniffling quietly, cleaning her eyes with the sleeves of her cardigan.

CJ swallows and tracks her eyes back to Josh. Something passes between the two, some understanding, that Toby is not privy to.

“Well." She sighs, rage completely gone. Everyone looks at her. "Since we’re here... maybe... we could all just have something nice to eat...? My treat.”

Josh is visibly relieved.

"I'll take you up on that," Sam says, "I haven't eaten a thing yet."

"You left home without eating?," Donna asks.

"I'm not used to waking up this early."

"Well, let's put some kind of food inside you then," CJ says.

"And coffee," he completes.

They all walk to the nearest café together, finding Bonnie on her bike on her way to work. She unmounts and joins them. Ginger arrives later, when they're all making a fuss over latte flavours, chipping in too. Seasonal spices are seasonal, that's why they're special!, cries out Donna. Nonsense, says Josh, what if I want pumpkin spice all year round, what's wrong with that?

Toby is equal parts impressed and not at all by Josh having an elaborate coffee order. He's hanging back behind the group, watching them have fun with nothing but their own friendship, when CJ finds him.

"What about you, Tobus, gonna drown yourself in cinnamon and allspice, too?," she asks.

He lets himself laugh, "I don't think I have it in me to drink something that complicated."

"A simple man, huh."

"You could say that," he tries and fails to hide a smile.

"I have just the thing."

She enters the line and comes back two minutes later, shoving a blueberry muffin into his hands.

"You didn't have to."

She's the one smiling, then. "I know."

CJ looks up ahead at the rest of their party and her gaze falls on Donna, going soft when she watches how openly the woman laughs while trying to argue some sense into Josh about something as innocuous as coffee.

“Why do I have the impression you know something about my own employee that I don’t...?," Toby asks, then takes a bite from his muffin. It's a bit too sweet for him, but it tastes good. It feels good, like replenishing something inside him.

“I... might.”

“CJ.”

“I’m not supposed to say anything.”

“Those flower arrangements, you like them a lot, right.”

“You don’t play fair.”

“It’s why I’ll never be a professional baseball player.”

“Could've had a chance with the Red Socks team of nineteen—”

“You don’t know anything about baseball, stop obfuscating.”

She sighs, sagging.

“She was supposed to be getting married today.”

Toby chokes on a piece of his muffin. CJ gives him a slap on the back.

“Married?”, he all but yells, between coughs.

“Keep your voice down!”

“What do you mean married?,” he whisper-yells, “You’re telling me she was supposed to marry that asshole?”

“We all make mistakes.”

“Voice of experience?”

“I’m a tattoo artist, Tobias, I have seen things.”

"Married," he repeats. "Married! She's, what, twenty-five? And she's supposed to be getting married to— to a guy who wanted her to throw her entire life away to—"

"I shouldn't have told you anything."

"—what, pay his bills?!"

He breathes in deeply and takes a big bite out of his muffin, knowing the sugar will help him cool down.

It must be quite a picture, his beard covered in crumbs while he munches angrily, because CJ looks at him like she’s about to burst into laughter.

“What?”

"I swear to god between you and Josh the girl’s got more protection than a mafia daughter.”

"Josh knows?," that explains a lot, he thinks. "You're not very good at keeping secrets are you."

"Listen pal, I am very good at it, I just... She needed help, okay?"

"And you think we’re the right people to help her?"

He's not being skeptical, he really isn't. But Donna’s far away from home, and she’s bound to be missing more substantial support. It is true that CJ has a way of making him feel better by just being there, though, and to be fair it is a general talent of hers. Regardless of his protests both her and Josh, they do this, somehow. They arrive, arguing over something tiny, and he forgets he’s worried about anything.

"Yeah, I mean," she shrugs, "isn’t that what friends are for?"

Toby looks up ahead at the people who came around the shop, and all the way here, too, just to keep each other company.

“I think it might work,” CJ concludes.

Between their party and the sugar in his system, he can’t remember what was it that upset him so much that morning.

They all sit on a big table outside the shop, still discussing seasonal lattes. Sam remembers some of his favorites, recalling one or two that never came back another year. Ginger and Bonnie share hot chocolate recipes, and Donna makes notes.

The sun settles itself in the sky and shines down warmly. The District starts moving faster, getting into the gears of the day.

Their regular opening hour approaches.

CJ rises from her place beside Toby and motions with her head for Josh to follow her.

“It's been nice to be robbed blind by a coffee shop chain for your benefit, but we better get to work.”

“Thanks for coming around,” Donna tells her, “I've been having a couple of rough days and…this helped.”

“You should come up to the shop, if it happens again,” CJ says. “Just to hang around. There's always someone there to keep you company.”

“Come today, even,” Josh completes, “I think Amy might not murder me if there’s witnesses.”

“Today's probably not gonna happen,” Donna answers, “We'll be doing some new arrangements, for a while, Dr. Bartlett called.”

“MD or PhD?”

“It’s a lot of work anyway, so does it really matter?”

Josh smiles, shaking his head, “I guess not.”

Is there someone he didn't call?, Toby thinks.

Josh and CJ bid the rest of the table goodbye and head in the direction of their shop. The conversation around them resumes, but Donna is chewing on her lips instead of jumping in to refute Sam's argumentation over croissants.

She steals a glance to watch their backs retreat on the sidewalk, but, before they can get too far, Donna bolts from her seat and stops Josh with a hand on his forearm.

“Josh.”

He stops and looks back. “Yeah?”

She hesitates. When she speaks, it is just loud enough for him to hear.

"Why did you ask about the magnolias?"

She notices she’s still holding him by his shirt and lets go of it, but Josh slides his hand into hers. "Someone came into the shop yesterday to get them done. They reminded me of you.”

He gives her hand a squeeze, that she returns. They share a smile.

“Maybe I could come around tomorrow?,” she says.

“Yeah,” he nods, “Yeah, I think I’d like that. See you tomorrow, then.”

A few steps behind Josh, CJ is watching them, too.

She finds Toby's gaze, when Josh releases Donna's hand to join her. And gives him a wink.

He laughs at the ridiculousness of it, at how warm it makes him feel. But something in the gesture between him makes him believe that there are better days ahead. For all of them.

He turns back to the table around him and when Donna sits down he finally gives in— “You’re all delusional, black forest is just chocolate and cherry, it tastes the same anywhere.”

—starting another round of protests that leads to laughter and lively conversation that lasts the rest of the day.

#the west wing #took a break from writing this week because life has been a little bit too intense #but this had been on my drafts since aleena made the post #and it was only a couple hundred words short of finished so I thought why not #and now I...#erm. I low key wanna turn this into a script lmao #Ik this is ao3-length stuff but this entire au belongs to Tumblr it just FEEL like tumblr u feel me #can you tell this is me trying to process my own (thankfully) dwindling depression in amore positive and optimistic way #tww fic mine #tww flowershop au #aleena has a tag #Bianca has a tag

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be-the-spark-flyboy · 4 years

Text

Crush

A/N: I had way too much fun writing this. Thx @writefightandflightclub for making me a Poe hoe ;)

Pairing: Poe x reader (fem!)

Warning: Swearing, suggestive themes, fluff, Poe Dameron

Word count: 2.1k

Summary: The crush you have on Poe is common knowledge, but what is he going to do with that information?

PART 2 - Tension

You and Poe were smashed up together in a broom closet. Not in the sexy, “their chest pressed against each other, his breath fanning their face” way. More like sweaty, gross and stuck in an awkward position, manner. His shoulder was digging into your hips. Poe had knelt down in that tiny space to retrieve the data chip you had dropped in your haste to shove yourself in the hiding spot and lo and behold, he got stuck. You tried not to pass out from the excessive heat and the leather jacket you wore wasn't helping in the least.

“….I don’t think we thought this through very well,” you mumbled from above him.

“I could have told you that about ten fuck ups ago.” Poe shot back, leaning his head against the door with a thump. You winced at the sound though no one could have heard it from the outside. Music blared in every corner of the club. You moved to peel the layer of leather off yourself.

“What are you doing?“ Poe hissed at you. You were sure you could've spotted an irritated scowl on his face if there was any amount of lighting in the broom closet. But you couldn't bring yourself to care at the moment.

“I’d do you more harm than good if I passed out,“ you huffed. Poe shifted to make more room for you but it was inevitable that your chest was going to brush up against his head at one point. It was not at all awkward when the heavy leather smacked against the back of his head when you finally managed to shrug it off. You whispered an apology.

Your face burned and you still felt warm despite having removed the leather jacket. Maybe things wouldn't have been so awkward if the entire base hadn't known about the colossal crush you had on the man on his knees before you. You were more than sure Poe knew too. Word traveled like wildfire in the resistance. You really would’ve thought twice before joining the game of truth or dare if you just weren't so shit faced that day. Or if you knew you were to join him on a mission less than two months after the unfortunate incident.

After what felt like an eternity, the music finally stopped and the doors slammed shut after the last pair of foot shuffled out, leaving the whole place in eerie silence. Poe passed you his blaster.

“Alright, I think we’re clear,” he signaled and you blasted the lock, the door swinging open with the force. You practically moaned when the cool air hit your face as you stumbled out. Poe tumbled out in a graceless heap behind you, swearing when he could finally stretch his legs out.

“At least we got the chip,“ you tried not to sound so exhausted. “Now we can head back.” Poe nodded. You collected the discarded jacket from the floor and the two of you left.

------------------------------------------------

Poe hung his head in defeat and sighed heavily. He had been looking out the window at the heavy storm whipping around since you both had decided it would be unwise to try and fly in this weather. You’d taken a nice warm shower and now laid on the motel bed, datapad in hand trying to decode the chip.

The entire mission had been unbelievably draining as you and Poe spent the past 6 days trailing the target halfway across the galaxy to every kind of sketchy settlement you could think of. You’d barely slept, tracking his ship for days. The past two days were worse. Everything that could go wrong went wrong. From the both of you almost getting caught trying to sneak into the target’s room, to you getting locked in a walk-in freezer and the both of you being trapped in that broom closet for at least 2 whole hours. And for the cherry on top, your feelings towards Poe only seemed to get stronger, while the man showed no signs of reciprocating any of it. That hurt a little.

You absent-mindedly curled your damp hair around your fingers, trying to focus your blurry eyes on the datapad as Poe finally moved away from the window. He laid on the bed facing you, with his head propped up against his knuckles.

“You know you don’t have to finish this right away right? Go get some rest, you can finish up at the base tomorrow.“ He said. You just stared at him. You couldn't help yourself. Maker, he was gorgeous. A crown of curly dark hair sitting so perfectly on his head. His shirt unbuttoned at the top giving you the barest hint of his chest. His lips parted slightly as he gave you an inquisitive look. Only then did you register his words. You cleared your throat, abruptly looking anywhere but at him, hoping you hadn't stared too long. Hoping he hadn't noticed.

“Um, you should get some rest too,” you choked out, mildly surprised you could even find your voice. Poe’s lips curled up into a teasing smirk at how quickly colour had risen to your face. Of course he noticed, that damn bastard.

“Then you wouldn't mind if I shared your bed, would you?“ Now you just stared at him in disbelief. What? Oh no. Oh no no no.

“What’s wrong with yours?“ you asked. You didn’t mean to sound that rude but Poe didn’t seem to mind. Your brain promptly proceeded to short circuit as he pushed himself up on his elbows straight into your personal space.

“Nothing, it's just so cold sleeping alone,“ he answered. “I promise I’ll keep my hands to myself,” he said giving you a dopey smile. Then fell back into the pillow beside yours and made himself comfortable.

No, you didn't want him to keep his hands to himself. Why did the universe hate you so much? You wanted nothing more than for Poe to kiss the living daylights out of you. And yet he was right there lying not a foot away from you, making no move, giving you no other hint that he might, somewhere deep in his heart, have some sort of feelings towards you too.

The storm continued howling outside the window, and you decided that you’d at least get some sleep before the sun came up. Switching the lights off, you slipped under the covers and faced the ceiling, willing sleep to claim you.

It didn't. You tossed around a few times trying to get more comfortable but nothing did it. And it started getting colder as the storm only got stronger.

“You still awake?“ Poe asked. You turned around to face him, clutching your blankets closer to yourself. “Are you cold?”

You shook your head at that. Just then, a violent shudder went down your spine. “N-no I'm n-not,” you insisted, shivering. There was enough light streaming in from the streets outside for you to recognize the amused look on his face.

“Well, I'm cold. Can I come closer?“ Poe tried again.

You were sure if you tried to speak your teeth would just start chattering. So you opted to just nod your head. Poe shifted closer to you and wrapped an arm around you pulling you into him. You immediately melted into his warmth.

“Is this okay?” his voice dropped lower now and you nodded once again, already feeling yourself drifting off.

---------------------------------------

The morning light gently streamed in from the windows as Poe woke up feeling so warm and soft like he was going to sink right down to the bottom of the bed. His head was resting against your chest and your arms were wrapped around his neck. His arm was going numb under your waist but Poe didn't want to move. He just moved his arm from your waist and twisted around to check the time. It still wasn’t too late into the day so he decided he was going to bask in your warmth a little longer. Sure you wouldn’t mind.

A little more than a month ago, Poe had literally dragged Snap along with him to you when he heard about “the cute engineer girl with a crush on Poe”. He promptly lost all of his guts when Snap found you in the cantina with your nose buried in a book, chewing on a pen in your hand. You seemed so focused on your task at hand, the steaming cup of caf forgotten on the table beside you. A few strands of hair that escaped your messy bun, fell framing your face. You sat at one corner of the cantina in your own world, paying absolutely no mind to anything happening around you. He’ll never admit that he sat a few tables away and stared at you the whole time, watching you go about your day, like a total creep. He lost his favourite jacket to Snap that day to keep him silent about it.

After that, he’d see you around the base quite often, but you always seemed busy with something or surrounded with people and he’d tell himself he’ll talk to you next time. Until that fateful day when Leia had summoned Poe to brief him on his next mission. “Retrieving” a set of blueprints from a first-order sympathizer, paired with the resistance's best electrical engineer. Who so happened to be you. You had shaken his hand with a professional smile. No hint of whatever crush he had heard of.

He had gone back to Snap and grilled him about the details. How did he know about you? When did it happen? Was he sure it's true? Snap told him to not overthink and just go the fuck to sleep.

After the two of you had left base, you’d behaved professionally albeit a little nervous about your first field mission. Poe had tried to reassure you that you’d be fine and every time you’d smile at him and say “Thanks Poe,” in a soft voice. And every time Poe would nod and walk away before you could see the colour rapidly rise in his face.

Now here he was, wrapped up in your arms and your leg thrown over his, the sleep shorts you were wearing barely covering much of your thighs. He really didn’t mean to sound like a creepy stalker, but he just couldn’t pull those thoughts out of his head when it came to you. Maybe it was the fact that he knew that you were attracted to him too.

Poe was almost fully convinced that the rumour about your crush on him was fake, until you’d stared at him like that the night before. Like you where going to jump him right there. And he wanted you to. He would’ve toyed with you way sooner if he’d known this is how the two of you would end up. Tangled up in sheets in the bed together, though not in the way he wanted but this was quite enough for him.

You slowly started shifting. Poe thought you had finally awaken but you just sleepily tugged him closer to you and buried your face in his hair. Now Poe was sure his heart was beating out of his chest. You suddenly seem to realize your compromising positioning. You had absolutely no memory of how you ended up cuddling Poe, and your entire body felt suddenly felt hot from the embarrassment. Hoping he wasn’t awake yet, you jerked your face away from his hair and quickly went to untangle your limbs from his. But Poe held you in place.

“There’s still time, we don’t have to leave yet.“ Poe told you, his gravelly voice sending shivers down your spine. He shifted his head to look up at you. “I mean, if you’re okay with it?“ His big brown eyes hooded with sleep made you melt on the spot, and of course you agreed.

Satisfied with you answer, Poe went back to nuzzling your neck. You willed yourself to calm down before he heard your heart jack-hammering against your ribs. Poe slid his palm from your waist to your thigh, hoisting you leg higher up his hips and every thought flew right out of you head.

Poe started grazing the tip of his nose against your neck and the only thing you could focus on was not trembling against him. Heat pooled between your legs as he continued his merry way up your neck and then back down again, this time brushing his lips against your skin. Your breath came in shallow pants as he dragged his teeth along your collarbone, soothing the sting with tiny kitten licks. You could’ve sworn you felt his lips part in a smile when you tangled your fingers in his thick curls. Your eyes fell shut on its own accord when he wrapped his lips around your skin and sucked. You couldn’t stop the broken whimper that slipped past your lips.

Poe fucking Dameron, commander of the black squadron, resistance’s best pilot and grade A asshole, decided that he was going to pull away from you at that exact fucking moment. You sat up in confusion as he got up from the bed, looked at you with wide-eyed innocence and said, “We gotta leave soon if you wanna get back to base on time.” Then left you there with a look of disbelief etched all over your face.

He did NOT just-

#poe x reader #poe dameron #star wars #sw #poe dameron fanfiction #fluff #poe fluff

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luna-is-a-main-now · 4 years

Text

Trust chapter 2

Deceit shivered under the thick blankets, and whined softly as he slowly blinked open his eyes. It was morning, and he was alone on the couch, a thick red blanket tucked around him, but it was freezing compared to what Deceit truly wanted. With a long, tired sigh, he stood up and snapped himself into warmer, more comfy clothes. He peeked his head into the kitchen and was pleased to see Patton there, cooking what appeared to be chocolate chip pancakes. Deceit had no idea if his stomach could handle such heavy food yet, but he intended to find out, especially because said pancakes smelled absolutely heavenly.

As soon as Patton turned his back, Deceit snuck in and filched a warm pancake from the top of the stack next to the pan where more were being cooked. Quickly, he left before Patton spotted him, and took his stolen food to the couch, where he sat and slowly nibbled at it. It was pleasantly warm and perfectly fluffy, and the chocolate chips tasted rich and gooey and they had melted into the pancake perfectly. It tasted like heaven, and Dee melted into the couch in delight at the taste. It had been too long since he had such wonderful food and he gratefully appreciated being here right now to experience what he was now sure was a literally perfect pancake.

Deceit thoroughly enjoyed his stolen pancake.

Until his stomach decided that it didn’t enjoy the pancake as much as he had. With a dramatic sigh, Deceit flopped backwards onto the couch and buried himself under the thick blanket once more. He felt the couch give as someone sat next to him.

“What’s up with you?” He heard the unmistakably grumpy voice of Virgil. When Deceit stubbornly refused to reply, he heard an amused huff as he was shoved off the couch, blanket and all, falling with a loud thump and a muffled ‘oomph’ of surprise. He popped his head out of the top of his blanket burrito and pointedly glared at Virgil and ignored a chuckling Roman while he tried to keep his mind off of his rolling stomach, made even worse by the tumble off the couch.

Virgil smirked wickedly back at him, before standing up and heading to the kitchen. Roman, ever the knight in shining armor, picked Deceit up and plopped him back on the couch with a grin. Deceit grumbled and hid his face under the blanket to hide the small smile that graced his own features.

“Well good morning to the grumpy snake. Would you like me to grab you some breakfast?” Roman questioned him gently, and Deceit could see the hope in his eyes practically begging him to say yes. He bit his lip and thought about how he already felt uncomfortably full from just one pancake, but glancing back up at Roman, he sighed in defeat. He couldn’t outright say no to that face, after all.

“Yeah, sure, but… not too much. I’m not really hungry.” Deceit admitted. Roman looked him over skeptically, like he didn’t know whether or not Deceit was lying, which he supposed was fair considering his track record. “I promise, Roman. If I were hungry, I’d tell you first.” The prince seemed to be pleased by that answer, and with a bright smile and a quick wave, he headed off towards the kitchen.

“What is wrong with me?” Deceit muttered to himself when he realized his face was warm and his chest felt tight. “It’s nothing. Nothing at all. That’s a problem for future Deceit.” He quickly mumbled, chasing away stray thoughts he didn’t want to think about. His head snapped around when he heard footsteps coming down the stairs and was greeted by the sight of a now much more well-rested Logan.

“Good morning, Dee.” Logan smiled at him as he adopted the nickname Roman had established for him the night before. Deceit still didn’t understand why Roman had adopted a nickname for him, but there was hardly anything he could do about it now. He sure as hell wasn’t going to admit out loud that he kinda liked it. “How are you feeling this morning?” Logan questioned as he sat in his spot on the couch.

“I’m fantastic, thank you.” Deceit grumbled sarcastically, and burrowed back under the blanket when he felt Logan’s pointed look fall on him. He squirmed uncomfortably fow a few moments, but eventually grumbled and conceded to Logan’s unnerving stare. “Fine, fine. I feel better than I did but still pretty shitty.” He admitted quietly, and received a pleased hum in response. Cocky self assured bastard, Deceit thought with no real bite, just with the mild frustration that Logan could seemingly so easily get Deceit to speak up.

“As to be expected at this stage. A few more days and you should start trying to eat heavier foods and eat more frequently, but for now, you should stick to occasional soup and not push it too much. The soup will help boost your immune and digestive systems quickly without shocking the latter too much after not eating in so long.” Logan commented as he picked up a book and opened it nonchalantly.

“Yeah, I learned that the hard way. Tried to eat a pancake. It was really good but I don’t think my stomach appreciated the gesture all that much.” Deceit muttered in annoyance, but quickly shut his mouth as Roman reappeared, holding a small bowl, presumably filled with more soup. Logan watched on with a puzzled gaze as Deceit took the bowl from Roman, but Deceit quickly shook his head when he started to say something. Logan closed his mouth, but continued to watch Deceit closely with concern.

As Patton set the table and handed out plates of food, Deceit stared down at his soup with a slight grimace. He knew he’d regret his inability to say no to Roman later, but for now, he really should try and eat some of the soup, if only to get the other sides to stop staring at him with the strangely worried expressions that seemed to land on him with unnerving frequency now.

Slowly, as everyone else settled into their spots and started eating, Deceit managed to take a bite of his soup. His stomach immediately lurched in displeasure, but Deceit forced down two more bites before he pushed the still mostly full bowl away from him. The conversation at the table quickly dwindled as the other sides looked over at him, then at the bowl and back at him again.

“Dee? You hardly ate any of it, are you feeling okay?” Roman called softly from beside him, placing a warm, gentle hand on his back and rubbing slight, soothing circles as well. Deceit instantly relaxed at the warmth and comfort that small action provided him, but didn’t let it show outwardly.

“I am absolutely fantastic,” he forced out instead, ignoring the nausea bubbling in his stomach. He knew he hadn’t fooled any of them, but he wasn’t going to offer any other explanations. He stared at the floor and ignored their gazes stubbornly. He didn’t see why they should care about him this much. He wasn’t a light side and he never would be, so their care and concern was just wasted on him. Eventually they would realize that Deceit was still Deceit, and they would go back to throwing him looks of disgust and contempt, and he’d have to go back to his freezing room and all of this would be for nothing in the end. How could he ever hope to expect anything different?

“Dee? You’re shaking.” He heard the muffled voice of Virgil, but he only sank further into his blanket and hid his face. He screwed his eyes shut for good measure. He didn’t want to be here, he didn’t want to see the concern on their faces, especially not Virgil who he had once trusted and cared so much about before he had left without a word, without warning, without so much as a goodbye. He didn’t want to get attached again, to any of them, because he knew he’d just be left again. He was Deceit; he couldn’t be trusted and he couldn’t trust anyone else.

He heard multiple muffled voices above him, but he couldn’t stop his spiraling thoughts now. He was trapped, and he knew, he just knew that he was going to end up alone in the dark, cold and hungry all over again. He dreaded the moment, but he knew it was inevitable because he was not a light side and not a dark side. He was an unwanted side, and that wasn’t going to change.

“Dee!” Roman’s loud voice and a loud clap in front of his face snapped him sharply back to reality, and he harshly sucked in a stuttered breath. He heard Virgil start to count, and he immediately recognized it as the breathing exercise he used to calm down. Deceit struggled to match his breathing to the soothing counting, but eventually somehow managed to do it. He slumped forward, suddenly feeling very tired. He buried his face behind the blankets until not even a single hair on his head was visible from under his cocoon. He didn’t want to be here right now. There was only one place he wanted to be and he couldn’t possibly ask for it, and it would never be offered to him.

“I’m okay. I’m sorry. I’m fine.” Deceit repeated over and over. He had to believe it. If he believed it, then it wasn’t a lie anymore. He was fine. He’d be fine when they all left him again. He was used to being alone. It was fine. He could handle it. Everything was fine.

“Dee, please don’t lie to us. What’s going on?” Roman’s soft, concerned voice made Deceit want to cry. When he didn’t reply, he felt Roman’s hand start to rub soothing circles on his back again. He had never noticed when Roman had stopped doing it the first time. That still didn’t change the fact that he couldn’t get attached, would never let himself get attached to anyone like that ever again.

“I’m tired and I don’t want to talk about it right now.” Deceit murmured, and sighed tiredly. He wanted to sleep for ten years. Preferably on a certain fluffy bed, in a warm room, and with-

“Shut up, Deceit.” He snapped quietly at himself, and Roman paused in his soothing movements for a second, but didn’t question his outburst even though he was sure the rest of them had heard it. Not like it really mattered right now, not when Deceit was just so exhausted and wanted to pass out and escape all of this.

“Dee, hey, can you look at me?” He heard Virgil ask soothingly from in front of him. He didn’t want to, but slowly he peeked his head out and looked at Virgil, who was kneeling on the floor, warily.

“Will you tell us what’s going on later? I understand you need sleep now, but you can’t keep bottling up whatever it is that’s bothering you. You can trust us.” Deceit couldn’t help but snort harshly at that, making Virgil reel back with a confused expression.

“I’m Deceit, Virgil.” He snarled darkly. “I’m not a light side, so whatever game you’re all playing you can stop. I know you can’t trust me, I am literally the embodiment of deception. How am I supposed to trust you all when you don’t trust me? Just because I’m weak and feel like shit right now doesn’t mean I’m magically one of you or part of your family. Just because I’m not a dark side doesn’t mean I can or will be all buddy buddy with the rest of you. You never should have helped me. Just because I’m no longer one of them, does not mean I am no longer Deceit, that I am different.” Deceit stood up and threw the blanket to the ground before turning and stalking off towards the Mind Palace’s exit.

“Dee wait!” Roman’s voice called, and Deceit couldn’t help but freeze. He flinched in surprise when Roman hugged him from behind, effectively trapping him where he was. He hated this, he hated that he could never just say no to or ignore Roman. What was it about that stupid Prince that made Deceit feel so utterly helpless?

“I trust you.” Roman murmured in his ear, cutting off his train of thought quite effectively. “I know that you aren’t different just because you aren’t a dark side anymore. That doesn’t matter to me. What matters to me is that you are okay. Please, just, let’s get you to bed. You need more rest. If you don’t want to talk about it, I’ll respect that, but please, don’t leave.” Roman tightened his hold on Deceit, like he needed Deceit to know that he really did want him to stay. Deceit hesitated, then he finally reached down and took Roman’s hands in his, and slowly turned to face him.

“...okay.” He agreed quietly, hesitantly almost, as if waiting for Roman to take what he had said back. Roman only beamed brightly at him, then led him back the way they had come. Catching the surprised looks of the other sides, Deceit averted his gaze, and sighed in relief when he saw that Roman was leading him towards the stairs, hands still intertwined. Deceit realized he was completely powerless when faced with Roman. A small part of his brain whispered why, but he quickly decided to ignore it. That was still future Deceit’s problem. Current Deceit just wanted sleep.

“Since you don’t have a room here, you can sleep in mine. Plus, it’s the warmest room, so you’ll be more comfortable, right? Is there anything else you need or want before you sleep?” Roman asked gently as he lead Deceit into his room. Deceit bit his lip and shook his head. The one thing he wanted was something he didn’t think he could ever ask for, even though he was getting half of what he wanted already by some sheer dumb luck.

Roman led Deceit to the bed, and made to let go of his hand. Deceit quickly held fast, not letting him go. Looking at the floor, he took a deep breath to steady himself. He needed to say something, anything, in return for everything Roman has done. He may not be “good”, but he knew when a thank you was in order, and Roman had certainly done more than enough to earn one.

“Thank you, Roman. For everything. I mean it. I really do appreaciate everything you’ve done to help me.” Deceit murmured quietly, not meeting the prince’s eyes. Before he could even think about letting go of Roman’s hand, Roman had gathered him up in a hug again, and Deceit really could not stop the small sigh of satisfaction at the action as he hugged the creative side back gratefully.

“No need to thank me, Dee. You’re a side. It doesn’t matter about light or dark; you’re just as important as the rest of us. You’re important to Thomas. You’re important to the other sides. You’re important to me.” Roman told him seriously, and leaned back to level his gaze at Dee, so he could see how serious he was. Deceit smiled and nodded, accepting Roman’s words without hesitation.

“Come on, now. Let’s go to bed.” Roman grinned as he pulled Deceit onto the bed after him, pulling the blankets up over them both. Deceit froze, and looked at Roman curiously. He only got a soft smile in return as Roman laid his head down on his pillow, with clearly no intention to leave. Deceit relaxed and laid down as well, and took a deep breath; he felt warm and safe, and he had gotten exactly what he had wanted without having to ask or lie or manipulate his way there. It was given to him naturally by Roman’s good nature; and that made it all the more better to Deceit.

It didn’t take very long until Dee fell asleep, more comfortable than he had ever been.

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Roman blinked his eyes open slowly. He was pleasantly warm and comfortable; he didn’t really want to wake up yet. He looked to his side, and saw Dee fast asleep, curled into Roman’s side with one arm draped gently over his chest. Roman couldn’t help but smile at the sight. Dee was never vulnerable or cuddly with anyone, and Roman felt like he was special to be able to see Dee so at peace for once. Not to mention that when he was asleep, the worried, anxious lines that had been etched into his face the past two days completely melted and he looked like one of the most beautiful people he’d ever seen, regardless of the fact that they shared a face. Roman supposed it was the scales; he didn’t know why but Dee’s scales just made him so much more attractive than any of the other sides.

That was a thought he had always had and would always keep to himself, though.

On an impulse, Roman reached out and ran a gentle hand over Dee’s scales, and found that they were smooth and cool to the touch. Dee shivered and leaned into Roman’s touch, still fast asleep. Roman smiled and did it again, and watched as Dee relaxed more and more as he continued to run his hand either over his scales or through his soft hair. Eventually, Dee yawned slightly, and cracked his eye open curiously.

“Rom’n?” Dee mumbled, voice still soft and laced with sleep.

“Hey, Dee.” Roman greeted softly with a smile. “How’d you sleep? Do you feel better?” Dee sighed softly and his eyes fluttered closed again.

“Mhmm. Warm and comfy.” He whispered, about to fall asleep again. “I feel a lot better. Stomach still hurts though.”

“Why does your stomach hurt, Dee? What’s wrong?” Roman’s voice was now impossibly soft with concern, and he ran a gentle, caring hand through Dee’s hair again, making his eyes blink open again slowly, staring up at Roman blearily, before speaking softly.

“I, uh, kinda stole a pancake this morning while no one was up and Patton wasn’t looking. It smelled amazing and I just, I dunno, I wanted one even though I knew it wasn’t good for me yet. It was really, really good. My stomach doesn’t like it though.” Dee frowned, like he was upset at his stomach for not cooperating. Roman found it cute, even if he was concerned about what that meant.

“I see. Be a little more patient. We’ll have you back on heavier foods soon, but not too quickly, okay? You should have told me before though; I’m sure that extra soup I brought you didn’t help. Anyways, do you wanna talk about what happened?” Roman asked softly. Dee immediately tensed, but then sighed heavily, almost in defeat, and nodded.

“I guess.” Dee sat up and pointedly faced away from Roman, and drew his knees up to his chest, wrapping his arms tightly around them. “I just, I don’t understand why you guys are acting like you care about me so much. I’m not a light side. I’ll never be good, and I’ll never be one of you. I’m still Deceit. I don’t think Patton is ever going to approve of me in any way. I think he’s just being nice for your sake. Sooner or later though… you’ll all realize that nothing has changed. The dark sides don’t accept me anymore, sure, but that doesn’t mean I’m still not technically one of them. Eventually, it’ll all just go back to the way it was and you’ll all leave me again and I’ll always be so, so cold and hungry and sick again.” Dee curled up even more, burying his head in his arms, and Roman hated how small he looked. “I’m just the unwanted side.” He whispered that last part shakily, and Roman could swear he felt his heart clench at the soft, bordering-on-broken voice.

“Oh, Dee, no, that’s not true. At least, not for me. I can’t speak for the others, but I want you to stay. I do care about you, and I promise you’ll never have to be alone like that a second time. You will never have to be that cold or hungry ever again, I swear that to you. I won’t ever allow that to happen. Okay?” Roman swore firmly, and Dee peeked over his shoulder and seemed to study Roman’s face for a long while.

“Really?” Dee’s voice was hesitant and unsure, like he couldn’t really bring himself to trust Roman’s words at face value. He bit his lip uncertainly and stared at Roman’s eyes, searching for any indication that Roman was lying, even though Roman knew that Dee could sense that naturally as he was basically the King of Lies. Whenever anyone lied, Dee just knew, he could feel the lie almost as if it were a physical sensation across his skin, or so Roman assumed.

“Really.” Roman swore vehemently. “I promise. If you want, I can even talk to the others about this too. Even if they don’t feel the same, which I honestly doubt, that still would not change that fact that I will protect you now. You will never have to go through that again.” Roman smiled at Dee softly. “So come back here and stay warm, okay?”

Dee hesitated only a moment longer before practically launching himself at Roman. Roman was surprised when the other snaked his arms around his neck and gave him one of the tightest hugs Roman had ever received. It was like Dee was desperate to show Roman just how much he appreciated his words, which was completely unexpected coming from the snake-like side. Not that Roman minded in the slightest; quite the contrary actually.

“Thank you. Thank you, Roman. So, so, so much.” Dee whispered in Roman’s ear. “Also, you are very warm.” He chuckled at his shy admission, and Roman did as well, returning the hug just as tightly.

“No need to thank me, Dee. Honestly. I’m just glad you’re alright. Well, getting there.” Roman murmured back to him soothingly, which resulted in a tighter hug and a soft hum of agreement.

“Why… why do you care about me though?” Dee’s hesitant voice almost made Roman want to cry. He wondered who had made Dee feel so insecure and unworthy of care and concern even when he so clearly was. It didn’t really matter anymore though, Roman reasoned, because he would make sure he would never feel that way again.

“Because you deserve it, Dee. You deserve just as much love and care as the rest of us do, no matter what anyone else says. You are just as important as us, and I care about you. I don’t have a specific reason, but that’s because I shouldn’t need one to deem you worthy of love and care and concern. You are already worthy of those things simply because you are here and you exist, just here, just you.” Roman stated, and pulled away just enough to look at Dee’s eyes. “You are enough exactly as you are. You are wanted exactly as you are. You are loved exactly as you are. Okay?”

Dee didn’t seem to know how to reply to that. He stared at Roman with his mouth slightly open in a little ‘o’ and his eyes kept searching Roman’s. He looked totally and completely shocked and surprised. Roman wondered what was going on inside his head as he just started at Roman like he was the only thing in the room. Then his mouth twitched, and slowly slid into a sort of shy and pleased smile as he appeared to accept what Roman said, and gave him a small nod, and hugged Roman tight once more.

“You always know what to say. How do you do that?” Dee chuckled softly, and the sound made a shiver roll down Roman’s spine. Roman smirked wickedly at the question though, and gave a long, dramatic sigh.

“Oh I suppose it’s just one of my many great talents as a prince! You know, with all the speeches and royal decrees we must give it is a skill I must have. Oh, the burdens of being such a wonderful prince such as I.” Roman intoned dramatically with a sarcastic undertone, and grinned widely as he heard Dee snort in amusement at his words.

“Ah, yes, of course. I should have guessed that it was just a natural talent the wonderful and brave prince Roman would have! How silly of me to ask.” Dee replied with just as much sarcasm, finally pulling away and grinning at Roman. Roman practically melted; a genuine smile on Dee was almost too adorable and beautiful for him to process.

Oh.

Roman’s eyes widened when he realized what he had just thought to himself and what it meant. Now that he had, he couldn’t stop himself from admitting it to himself. Roman had a major crush on Deceit, and even though it had come out of nowhere, he didn’t mind it in the slightest.

Roman grinned widely back at the boy in question; he knew Dee couldn’t possibly feel the same way about him, but that was not going to stop Roman from trying.

It was time for Roman to romance the hell out of a boy, for better or for worse.

God, he hoped it was for better.

Time to try, at least.

-----------------------------

Deceit was constantly being amazed by Roman. Now, though, with everything Roman had done for him and said to him, Deceit was surprised he wasn’t rendered completely speechless. That is, until he saw Roman’s expression morph into something impossibly soft, and he smiled so big at Deceit as if he had just come to a wonderful conclusion and Dee was at the very center of it all and Roman couldn’t be happier about it. It took effort to remind his lungs to continue breathing while Roman gave him that look, but Deceit couldn’t say that he disliked it all that much.

“I know you said that your stomach hurt just a few minutes ago, but despite that, are you hungry at all? I can heat you up some more soup.” Roman offered, and his voice snapped Deceit’s attention back to him violently from where he had been trying desperately to ignore the soft expression on Roman’s face, not that he had much luck in that particular endeavor. Dee took a few moments to consider how he felt, and when he focused on his stomach, he frowned slightly.

“I mean, my stomach doesn’t hurt anymore, so that’s good. However, I don’t feel particularly hungry either? Just kinda empty but not in a bad way?” Deceit tried to explain. “I can try to eat a bit more though, but I don’t make any promises. Might as well try to eat and possibly help myself rather than not eat and possibly regret it later.” He shrugged slightly.

“Wonderful way to look at it!” Roman exclaimed, pleased, as he rolled out of bed and onto his feet. With a quick snap, his clothes straightened back out and looked just as perfect on him as they always did. Dee shook his head slightly to expel the thought as Roman rounded the bed and offered his hand out to him. Hesitantly, Deceit took it, and Roman gently pulled him up to his feet, and led them, hand in hand, down the stairs.

Deceit realized that they had slept well into the afternoon, and that despite them being gone so long, it seemed as though the other sides hadn’t moved from their positions from breakfast. He knew they must have though; all the dishes had been cleared, the table cleaned, and they had all changed into their normal clothes as opposed to their pajamas and sleep clothes from earlier in the morning. When he and Roman walked into the living room, all conversation ceased as the other sides looked up at the two of them quickly.

Deceit tensed, and practically ripped his hand from Roman’s as he straightened up and made sure his expression stayed carefully neutral. He had shown them all far too much of himself this morning. Granted, Virgil had already known him before, but that was a long time ago, and even he no longer knew exactly who Deceit was any more. A part of him wanted to keep it that way. Another part wanted to tell him and hoped that the two of them could at least get along in some way again. He didn’t know which side he wanted to win and that thought scared Deceit almost as much as he was now terrified of losing… Roman.

That thought hit him like a freight train, and he froze the second he had realized he’d had it. Dammit, Deceit, he thought to himself harshly. You went and got attached, even when you said you wouldn’t. Maybe… maybe that wasn’t such a bad thing though? Looking at the other sides as Roman headed off to the kitchen to fetch him some soup, Dee let himself take a deep breath.

Maybe he could learn to trust again. Maybe he could learn to love again. Maybe he could learn how to be part of a family again.

God, Dee hoped so, especially as his mind helplessly returned to thinking about how Roman had looked at him earlier while they had still been in bed, the one that had made Dee’s heart nearly stop.

Selfishly and a bit shamelessly, Dee realized he wanted Roman to look at him like that again.

However, Dee smiled softly to himself, that was still future Deceit’s problem.

For now, at least.

[tags and a little note]

Still don’t know how to even do a proper tag list but!

@themelodeeartz

I hope you all enjoyed reading this!! I hope it’s good lol

Now that this actually has a proper title, you can find it and other works of mine on Ao3 @The_anon_that_writes

Thank you so much for reading this far!!

#ts #ts deceit #ts roman #ts logan #roceit #ts virgil #ts patton #deceit has trust issues #Roman is a helpful boy #Roman has a big ol crush #and Deceit is in denial but he does too #long post #fic #chapter 2 #sympathetic deceit #angst #fluff

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awesomenightfall · 4 years

Text

[’til death]

Haven’t written in 5ever and this is my first time writing Furuba ficlet! Rated PG, Ritsu/Mitsuru, Ayame/Mine, some mentioned others. Unbeta’d. 1,887 words.

With Ayame’s wedding looming, Mitsuru thinks, not for the first time, that they should definitely elope.

---

The invitation to the Sohma/Kuramae wedding was so big, so bedazzled and lace filled, that it had to be hand delivered to Mitsuru’s doorstep because it was too enormous to fit into the mailbox.

It was more box shaped than a standard paper invitation, Mitsuru observed, and knowing the ostentatious nature of her boyfriend’s relative, she wouldn’t have been surprised if live doves flew into her face when she opened it.

This was even fancier, if possible, than Ayame's baby announcement from the prior year. The pink lace monstrosity had taken a lot of people by surprise, but Ritsu sobbed hysterical happy tears for “Ayame-’niisan” and knitted no less than 12 pairs of baby socks for his new little cousin.

The older Sohma relatives were apparently not as impressed with the gaudy announcement or the out-of-wedlock baby girl that Ayame had brought into the world. The whole thing had been "Terribly scandalous," Ritsu's mom told her in a stage whisper, clutching her metaphorical pearls, "a baby before marriage and with his employee, no less… his mother almost had a nervous breakdown."

Her first thought: Wow. Rich people sure do things differently.

Her second thought: Am I going to have to see The Spawn of Satan - Shigure-sensei - at this wedding?

Ritsu, the sensitive, romantic soul that he was, was already blinking back tears by the time she pulled the velvet invitation out.

“I’m so happy for Ayame-’niisan and Mine-san. They’re such a kind, wonderful couple,” Ritsu sniffled, pausing from his knitting. He was curled up on her worn brown couch underneath an old blanket, hands working diligently at the tiny mittens he was knitting for one of his relatives' upcoming babies. They were adorable, of course, with a kitten motif in soft orange. “And it will be so good to see Hatori-’niisan and Shigure-’niisan again!”

Mitsuru shivered violently at the mention of her old boss. It was a Pavlovian response at this point and no amount of therapy in the world would help her work through it. Her worst fears were confirmed: she was definitely going to have to see Shigure-sensei and she was definitely going to have to be on her best behavior in front of Ritsu’s parents and relatives.

Ritsu lifted the blanket, looking concerned. “Mitsuru-san, are you cold? You should come under here before you get sick.”

She smiled to herself as she slid next to him. In the five years they had been dating, Ritsu had come a long way in terms of shyness and self confidence. He still asked if it was okay to kiss her and he blushed from neck to navel at the thought of anything beyond an innocent smooch, but they had gotten past the “apologize hysterically for holding her hand too long” stage and that in itself was a miracle.

“You’re so cold,” Ritsu said softly, setting the knitting needles down on the coffee table in front of the couch. He tucked her into the blanket next to him and took her hands in his, rubbing them for warmth. “Maybe we should plan a trip to my mother’s hot spring resort sometime soon, they’re the best in the winter. And she would love to see you, she’s always asking for you.”

Mitsuru rested her head on his slender shoulder and took this opportunity to stealthily stare at him. He was so cute, she thought. Beautiful, even with his cropped hair and more masculine clothing. And he was so darn sweet, always worried about her, worried if she was working too hard, if she had enough to eat, if her new clients were treating her right.

She had always thought she would die alone in her house surrounded by Shigure’s unfinished manuscripts with only cats to keep her company; Mitsuru never thought she could be so happy.

“Is something wrong?” he asked, catching her gaze with his own. Eyebrows furrowed in confusion. “Do you not want to see my family? You -- you don’t have to, I mean. I don’t want to pressure you. Are you too warm? Do you want me to--?”

She put her fingers to his lips, shushing him. “Nothing’s wrong. I was just thinking how lucky I am to have you.”

Her words had their intended effect and Ritsu nearly shot off the couch in embarrassment. “N-no no no no, Mitsuru-san! I’m the one that’s lucky to have you!” he babbled, face red. “I’m not --”

Mitsuru cut him off with a gentle kiss; the most effective way, she learned over the years, to stop his self deprecating apologies. “Ritsu,” she said with a smile. “I love you.”

Immediately his eyes glistened, even though he had heard this from her hundreds of times before. It never failed to make him emotional and it was infectious -- Mitsuru could feel her throat tighten at the look of gratitude on his face. “Thank you,” Ritsu said quietly, hugging her to him tightly. “I love you, too. And I’ll work so hard to make you happy.”

They sat in silence for a long while, enjoying the company and warmth.

“Weddings are nice, aren’t they?” Ritsu asked, somewhat hesitantly, not quite looking at her. “Being married must be wonderful.”

Mitsuru wondered if he was feeling her out on the subject. She knew he was getting some pressure from his family on proposing and while it was amusing, she didn’t want him to stress too badly. There was only so much knitting and yoga he could do to stave off a freakout. “I think so, too.”

“Y-you do?”

“Of course,” she said, snuggling closer. “To be with the person you love every day -- is there anything better?”

He let out a quiet, “Oh,” but said nothing further, only kissing the top of her head absently, looking deep in thought.

As the comfortable silence returned and she drifted off, a thought so horrifying nearly jolted her from Ritsu’s embrace:

If Ritsu and I get married, does that mean I’ll be related to Shigure-sensei?

The things people do for love, she thought with a heavy sigh, and let herself succumb to sleep.

---

The Sohma clan in its entirety was overwhelming, to say the least. The grounds of the complex were decked out with an explosion of flowers, beautiful against the autumn backsplash. There were gazebos and arches and tables upon tables of food, alcohol, and desserts that spanned as far as the eye could see.

Mitsuru recognized a lot of Ritsu’s relatives -- mostly the ones that had once lived at Shigure’s house -- so she didn’t feel entirely out of place. Shigure had yet to make an appearance because of course he would be fashionably late, even to his best friend’s wedding.

“Mitsuru-san, you look beautiful,” Ritsu said at her side. “I love your dress.”

“Oh? Thank you.” She didn’t even bother to hide how pleased she was that Ritsu thought so. The black, long sleeved cocktail dress has been a safe choice and not nearly as lovely as the kimonos Ritsu once donned, so it was nice to know it made an impression. “Is your suit warm enough? It’s a bit chilly out.”

He squeezed her hand. “Oh no, I’m fine. If you get cold, I brought an extra shawl in the car.”

How was it possible, Mitsuru thought as they walked towards familiar faces, that this angel shared DNA with Shigure?

Ayame’s brother, Yuki, looked resplendent in a dark gray suit but, well, the pinched look of stress sort of ruined the ambience.

“Bets on if you think Aya-’nii is going to wear a wedding dress?” another Sohma relative, the one with black and white hair, asked.

“He would look so good in one!” a blond, perky Sohma replied. He paused from digging into a huge plate of desserts. “Do you think they’re wearing matching dresses?”

Yuki looked pained. “Please, don’t even breathe life into those words. My mother is already having an aneurysm at the whole situation.”

The redheaded one -- Kyou, Mitsuru remembered -- handed Yuki a very full glass of champagne. Yuki took it gratefully and immediately started imbibing. “Kind of serves her right, don’t you think?” Kyou asked with a snort. “She bitched and moaned about him not being married before. Well, wish granted.”

A very pregnant Tohru beamed up at Yuki. Her hand cradled her round belly, a modest gold ring twinkling on her slender finger. “I think it’s wonderful. I can’t wait to see what Ayame-san and Mine-san wear!”

“Are you okay?” Kyou asked her, a protective hand on the small of her back. “Are you tired? Do you want to go sit down?”

Yuki rolled his eyes good naturedly, turning to Mitsuru and Ritsu. At least something was distracting him from his existential dread. “He’s only gotten worse since the pregnancy. I’m surprised this idiot hasn’t implanted a GPS chip into her neck so he can keep track of everything Tohru is doing at all times. It’s borderline obsessive.”

Yuki’s girlfriend - Machi? - gave him an even look. “As if you’re one to talk. Who is the one browsing baby websites at 2am and reading all the reviews to make sure Honda-san only has the safest baby toys?”

“Thank you, Yuki!” Tohru trilled over Kyou’s protests. “You’re so kind.”

Before Yuki could retort, the lights dimmed. A literal orchestra started playing as Mine -- wearing a breathtaking lace and crystal ball gown with a hoop skirt that would put Victorian novels to shame -- slowly walked down the aisle. Mitsuru could hear Ritsu sniffling and she immediately handed him some tissues from her purse.

Before anyone could inquire where Ayame was, the music stopped. The spotlights zoomed in on one of the temporary partitions that separated the food area from the reception area.

“I have a bad feeling about this,” Yuki muttered. “‘Niisan kept mentioning a ‘surprise’.”

Hatori, arguably the one sane person at this event, clapped a hand on his shoulder. “Just remember… this will be over soon and we can all go back to ignoring him.”

The partitions slowly opened to reveal Ayame -- not wearing a dress, to his credit, but a white tunic and pants outfit that looked like it belonged to an Arabian king-- in a lavish, horse drawn carriage, baby tucked in one arm, being pulled down the aisle. He waved benevolently to his subjects with his free hand and then blew a kiss to Yuki and then to his future wife.

“Please repress my memories of this night, Hatori,” Yuki said miserably. “It’s the least you can do for making me come.”

“Yuki, your mom fainted,” Hatsuharu said helpfully.

“Holy. Shit,” Kyou said.

Yuki grabbed an entire bottle of champagne from the nearby waiter. “I formally renounce the Sohma name and am now an orphan.”

Ritsu wiped at his eyes, passing a tissue to an emotional Tohru. “What a beautiful wedding. I can’t wait to see what they have planned next!”

“I hate this family,” Yuki said and honestly?

Mitsuru couldn’t blame him.

---

“Ritsu,” Mitsuru said a few hours later, once they were back in the safe haven of her house, “let’s elope.”

Ritsu dropped all of the plates he was washing with a loud crash, hands pressed to his burning cheeks. His voice went up at least three octaves. “Elope--? As in-- marriage?? Mitsuru-san???”

Elopement would be perfect, she thought happily.

The further away... the better.

#fruits basket #ritsu sohma #mitsuru #ayame sohma #mine kuramae #k writes trash #ayame is an icon

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raja-myna · 4 years

Text

yesterday is long since lost

FINALLY got this thing done!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/25070434

Anakin – and he is Anakin, even if that name feels a little bit like putting on a shirt he had thought he had outgrown – knows that he’s messing up. When he first realized what had happened, that he really had come back, he had been grateful that his body had collapsed under the weight of his future memories, leaving his subconscious mind to slowly make the connections and let him wake up again. He had thought he was prepared for it, when he shook off the last of the sleepy haze. The phrase ‘rude awakening’ turned out to fit almost too well.

The two weeks that it had taken for his body and mind to acclimatize to each other proves itself to be so far from enough. He’s jittery, uncomfortable in his own body (and it’s his body again, more flesh than metal, inescapable marks of betrayal (but whose was it really? Not Obi-Wan’s, he knows now, and that thought cuts impossibly deeper than ever) erased) with its lack of aches and pains, and reflexes that no longer match flesh limbs.

Rex knows something is up, but military discipline keeps him from asking, at least for now. Ahsoka knows something’s up, but she’s still too relieved that he’s okay (and hah, if only she knew) to push.

He thanks the Force that Obi-Wan isn’t here, because even though they’d made some sort of peace at Anakin’s funeral pyre and after that, he doesn’t know how he would react to seeing his former Master with them both alive again. Obi-Wan also likely wouldn’t hesitate to call him out on his poodoo. Oh, he’d be diplomatic, and he likely wouldn’t push if Anakin reacted badly, but Anakin still isn’t sure he could take that.

When they had been dead there hadn’t been much to do but make peace. Now, alive and with the Clone Wars barely halfway through, Anakin is realizing that a lot of their peace had come from the fact that nothing they could have done would have affected anything in the end. That calm understanding that had come with being one with the Force is gone as well, and Anakin’s love for and rage at his old Master are dueling for prominence. His guilt wants to land on the side of his love, but his anger has always run hot. He fears seeing Obi-Wan, for he truly cannot tell whether he’ll be angry, snappish and rude, or if he’ll want to fall to his knees and cry.

There’s enough of Anakin wanting to cry as it is.

It had been hard, seeing Ahsoka, seeing Rex when he first woke up and truly getting hit with how he had failed them. But they had been the lucky ones, in that awful future. They had gotten away.

Seeing Coric in the medbay, seeing Kix… that had been worse. Kix had been gone before Anakin Fell and Order 66 was executed, they hadn’t even found a body. Coric had died two years later, two years of living not unlike a battle droid covered in flesh, with only the barest glimpses of the man he really was underneath the weight of orders and grief he wasn’t allowed to understand.

Grief that none of the clones were allowed to understand.

(Vader had seen Bly. He had seen Shocker. He had seen Cody.)

(He had seen all those who had eaten their blasters as the chips died, never actually intended to survive past usage – just like the clones themselves.)

Vader hadn’t cared, or at least tried to tell himself that he didn’t. Anakin does care. And Force, but it hurts.

The first day Anakin just avoids everyone, using Kix’s orders of rest as an excuse. Facing everyone is… something no amount of preparation could help him with, a punch to the gut and a knock to the head that leaves him reeling. The effort it takes to not simply flee for his quarters actually leaves him winded when he finally reaches the corridor, enters the room, closes the door behind himself and locks himself in.

There’s something wrong with him. Anakin is not reacting the way he should – the way he ought to, having seen so many ghosts in so short a time. His mind is a mess.

Meditation does not come easy.

He forces himself into it, in an attempt to reconcile the different parts of himself. He is Anakin, jedi general, student, teacher, husband, lover, twenty years old and so arrogant. He is Vader, sith apprentice, failure, world-weary, beaten down, a monster shackled to a madman… a father, in the end.

He is Ani, slave boy, who cares so much and loves so deeply but doesn’t know how to handle it, never learned how to grow it, only hoard.

(If you love something, let it go.)

(He let Luke go, in the end. Let his son choose his own path and…)

I am a jedi, like my father before me.

Sleep doesn’t come at all.

Vader has spent literal decades hating his past, weak self, disgusted with the man who couldn’t even save the single most important person left in his life, who had lost everyone else along the line. Past-(present-?)Anakin is horrified by what he became, by what his future self allowed himself to be twisted into. Ani doesn’t understand, doesn’t want to understand how it could have even happened.

It’s a good thing self-hatred is nothing new to him, he thinks, because that is the common point that finally allows him to reconcile the different facets of himself.

That’s kind of sad.

It’s also awfully appropriate, in a twisted sense.

The second day he tries to play at normalcy and heads to the bridge. Ahsoka tracks him down when he’s alone during a quiet moment and hugs him until he stops trying to make her let go. Her relief broadcasts in the Force and their bond alike. Anakin… lets himself hold her, and heal, just a bit. Then Kix finds them and sends him back to bed. It’s enough to make Ahsoka laugh and think everything’s back to normal. Anakin lets her believe it.

He heads back to his bunk, and since Kix is a suspicious one, wise to the ways of his jedi, Anakin has company the entire way.

“Forty-eight hours of rest,” says Kix dryly, “and a visit to medical. Neither of these has been completed, and you’re still obviously tired. Get some more sleep, sir, or I can’t clear you.”

“How about just the visit to medical?” Anakin tries to bargain.

“Sir, I know disasters tend to strike like clockwork around here, but please. Nothing will happen if you just get some more rest.”

And despite Kix all but punching fate in the face and yelling ‘come get me’, nothing does happen. Anakin meditates some more and actually manages to grab a nap as well.

When he wakes up it’s shipboard afternoon. He heads down to the hangar, and instead of attempting to work on the Twilight like he planned to, he finds himself drawn into a discussion with three of the troopers (Lyn died on Umbara, Bell was lost on Mandalore, while Flipper had marched on the temple and not died until after more than five years of atrocities in the name of the Empire).

He failed them. The thought hovers in his mind even as he gets more involved in the debate. He failed them like he failed all his men, Ahsoka, Obi-Wan. Like he failed his mother. Like he failed Padmé. Like he almost failed Luke, like he did fail him several times.

The storm of emotions is like a vibroblade to the gut and Anakin claws desperately at it, keeping it from showing either on his face or in the Force. He almost pulls away again, until Bell’s words cut through him like shards of glass.

“-but not this time!”

Bell punctuates his words by punching the air. They’re talking about marksmanship contests now, but Anakin cannot fully restrain how deeply it hits him. His expression must twitch, because Bell turns to him, eyes wide with feigned upset.

“You think I can’t, General?”

Flipper nudges him. “The General simply knows better than to put his credits up on the word of such an… unreliable source.” The grin is contagious, and Anakin finds himself smiling as well, grounding himself in their gentle teasing and free-flowing affection.

His failures feel further away and, desperate to keep that feeling, he does what he always did best – jump without looking. “Well, maybe I can help make it less unreliable.”

“Sir?”

Anakin’s mouth really ran away with him this time, but something tells him that this is good. A comfortable warmth that sits in his gut, the Force whispering in his ear, Bell’s disbelieving – but growing – excitement. “You’re off duty. I have some spare time. There are several training halls available.”

Not this time. He failed them all then, but not this time.

It is with a strange sort of budding contentment that he puts Bell and several other clones through their paces in a training hall. He’s doing something, changing something, and it’s such a tiny difference but it’s a difference. Anakin can’t do a lot from here, not yet, but this – being with the men, helping them – is something he can do.

For the first time since he woke up, Anakin feels like he’s doing something right.

Nearly an hour after they began, Anakin catches sight of Rex by the door. The expression on his face is one part amusement, one part ‘I know what you’re doing’ and about five parts exasperation. It’s familiar despite the years, comforting, and Anakin laughs before he can even register the urge to.

The next moment he freezes because – how long has it been? He catches himself almost immediately and excuses himself from the practice session. They can continue without him anyway.

By the door, Rex’s amusement sharpens into instant hyper-awareness. Anakin starts running through the excuses he’d hoped wouldn’t be necessary.

Rex’s care for his jedi is something Anakin has been in turns awed, perplexed and humbled by. Now, his worry is just as humbling, but it is also troublesome. In the end, Anakin finds himself released to medbay only because Rex too is still shaky after his coma. None of them are fully back to normal, so Anakin’s issues are easier to hide.

They won’t always be, but Anakin will get better at hiding, too.

He runs into Ahsoka again in the hallway and she immediately attaches herself to his side. The last time he had seen her in that other time flashes in his mind – tall, strong, grieving – and he rests his hand on her montrals, his tiny, beloved padawan who the galaxy has barely even started to break yet.

She’s here.

She is here and he hasn’t lost her, not to his own madness nor her iron-clad conviction that he’s gone forever.

The poisonous thinking that came with the Dark Side is still haunting him, and for a moment he wants to drag her even closer, make sure she could never leave – and then the thought leaves him sick, his hand drops down to squeeze her shoulder and then he lets go.

She follows him to the medbay, where Kix clears Anakin. The clone is clearly reluctant, going by the grumbling, but Anakin is free to return to duty. As such, he is free to check out exactly when it is he has returned to.

The answer… staggers him. It’s the early days of the war, that much had already been obvious in the many presences that had been long gone, but… so many of the bad things haven’t happened yet, so many things he can change, disasters he can undo, lives he can save –

Sidious.

And even though he knows he can’t just rush in, the scene plays out in Anakin’s mind. Since he’d learned about Luke, Vader had ever entertained the thought of killing his Master. And even before that, before Padmé and Obi-Wan and Mustafar, Sidious’ survival had never counted in Anakin’s plans. More than once he had tortured himself with what-ifs… and now he has the chance to make them come true.

Still, striding up to the Supreme Chancellor of the Galactic Republic and attempting to cut him down, for all that it would be satisfying, would more likely end with Anakin fleeing from the Coruscant Security Forces with his task still not accomplished more than anything else.

It’s nothing but wishful thinking and Anakin waves it away.

A quick talk with Yularen confirms that they’re heading back to Coruscant. They’re still six days out, at current velocity, something Yularen relays with an apologetic look, since Anakin tends to be eager to get planetside. In this case though, it means there’s only six days to prepare for seeing the temple again, seeing Padmé, seeing – Force, seeing the younglings.

“Master?”

Ahsoka’s voice pulls him out of those dark musings.

“Yeah, Snips?” The nickname rolls off his tongue with reflexive ease, and it is not until it already lingers in the air that he realizes how much it grounds him.

“Is everything all right?”

He could lie. She would see through it, and either let it be or keep digging until she thought she had found out every little detail.

“No.” Ahsoka stops dead and he turns to look back at her, her big eyes even wider than usual at his uncharacteristic honesty concerning his own state. “But it’s getting better.” How can it not?

“…If you say so.”

“I do.”

“Good.”

The ringing silence that follows is belied by Ahsoka’s slow reach for him through their bond, and Anakin’s hesitant reach back, to meet her halfway. Ahsoka smiles at the contact and runs ahead. They’ve ended up by the mess hall and, though it’s still relatively early, there’s more than enough people moving around, grabbing an early meal.

“Glad to see you’re doing well, General!”

Anakin looks up to see Echo. The young ARC trooper has raised a hand to wave a greeting, precariously balancing his rations tray with only one hand. Smile tugging at his lips, Anakin raises his own hand in response. Another fate he would hopefully be able to change. Echo didn’t deserve what had happened to him.

Realization comes a second too late.

Echo slides down on the bench by Anakin and Ahsoka, and Fives sneaks up only half a step behind him. Ahsoka immediately vaults over the table and seats herself opposite Echo.

“Going to join us, General?” asks Fives. Anakin almost chokes. For an instant, Fives has all Anakin’s attention, but just as quick, Anakin turns away.

“Sorry.” he says choppily. “Sorry, I- I have something- I need to- I’m sorry. Later?”

He whirls around and practically flees the hall.

Fives. Oh, Force, Fives.

Anakin hears a hesitant “Is… something wrong?” from Echo, but escapes before he can hear Ahsoka’s response. Yes, something’s wrong. Something he’d managed to avoid thinking of entirely, but that he now can’t escape.

You died for the knowledge that might have saved everything and I didn’t believe you.

Fives had been – is – one of his men and that alone would be enough guilt to drown in but… that isn’t all.

Anakin firmly blocks the thoughts from his mind, refusing to wander down that old path of what-if. He had entertained enough of them, after Fives’… death. Even more after Echo had been found. So much more, in stolen moments with Padmé and occasionally Sabé or Rabé as well, staying up late nights with more alcohol than was probably advisable.

Force.

Three hallways down, Anakin finally stops, leans against the wall, and covers his face with his hands. He slowly sinks down, ending up sitting and pulling his knees close so he can hide in them instead of in his palms.

Smooth, Anakin. The internal reprimand takes on Obi-Wan’s voice, which is almost a step too far. Anakin’s eyes sting.

Eventually Anakin manages to gather himself enough that he can paste the mask back on. He can’t quite push the thoughts back into the box where he hadn’t even known that he’d stored them, however, and from that point on he can’t decide whether to run from Fives out of shame or never let him out of sight again. Over the coming days the result of the impulses leaves Anakin looking like a shy adolescent from a holo-drama, constantly keeping track of Fives, but ducking around corners, hiding behind bulkheads, and on one occasion, making a Force-assisted leap up a staircase (accidentally sparking a game of tag with Ahsoka, but he managed to make it look deliberate, so he counts it as a win) to avoid the clone.

Whatever explanation Ahsoka had given the two ARC troopers must have been unsatisfying however, because suddenly it seems like Fives is everywhere. Anakin tries to distract himself, mingling with the troops, burying himself in the Twilight, catching upon the present, but whenever he senses Fives just a little too close, he’s running again.

Anakin fears he will keep running for a long time.

#fanfiction #my writing #star wars #the clone wars #anakin skywalker #fives #ahsoka tano #rex #kix #bell #lyn #flipper #ani5 #anidala #several implied ships

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chilling-seavey · 4 years

Text

Anything But Mine (d.s.) - Chapter Twenty-Two

A/N I originally planned this novel in two parts and this chapter would be the end of part one ;)

Wednesday, January 1st, 2020

Florence could hardly sleep on the last night of 2019. She found herself thinking about how much had changed that year as she laid alone in her queen size bed as the time passed midnight. Had it already been a year since Clementine was born? The year had really gone by fast.

When it was almost two am and sleep still hadn’t come, Florence climbed out of bed and walked quietly down the hallway, led by the city lights pooling through the living room windows. The nursery door was always kept a bit open and she stepped inside, taking a moment to watch the now one year old sleeping peacefully in her crib. Florence finally bent over and picked her up. Clementine stirred but easily rested her head on her mother’s shoulder, her arms draped around her neck as she was carried back to the master bedroom.

The fairy lights that were twisted around the headboard lit up the warm bed, the baby tucked safely into the blankets, framed on one side by a pillow with her mother on the other. Florence watched her daughter sleep, brushing her fingertips through her soft blonde hair. At six minutes past 3am, Florence finally fell asleep, comforted by the presence of her sweet lifeline.

Callum came over to the apartment early in the morning, loaded with party supplies and gifts for the birthday girl. The party was to be set up in the social room of the apartment building, a small ballroom overlooking the nearby park. Michael and Luke showed up early to help put everything together, arranging tables as Callum and Florence set up the decorations. Emilio and Ivan showed up next. Emilio greeted her with a kiss to her cheek before he was turning to Clementine who was wobbling around the room, a helium balloon tied loosely to her wrist to keep track of her.

Callum set a few empty plastic bowls and bags of chips on the decorated snack table. Florence joined him, whispering a quick, “Matt’s coming to the party.”

A few chips flew onto the table as Callum’s shock made him rip the bag as he tried to open it.

“No, he’s not.” Callum said through his teeth, emptying a chip bag into a bowl.

“Yes, he is. We met up a few weeks ago and he’s doing so much better so I offered.”

“We’re not doing this again, Florence.”

“Nothing is going to happen. I’m so far past that part of my life. I promise you.” Florence turned to her brother. “This is probably the last time he’ll see Clementine ever. I need to you to be nice.”

“Maybe he should have done that first.”

“Callum. Please. You don’t have to even talk to him just don’t start shit.” Florence frowned. “It’s your niece’s first birthday, let’s just be calm about this please.”

“Fine.” Callum grumbled, shoving the empty snack bags into a garbage bag before walking off to the other side of the room to set up the gift table. Florence let out a small sigh of relief at how well that conversation had gone over. She couldn’t deny that she emotionally needed the approval of her twin brother for literally everything.

Guests started to show up around eleven, Matt being one of the first surprisingly. Callum avoided eye contact at all costs, focussing on Ivan’s comforting company as his twin sister went to say hello.

Connor came with the Clifford’s to help set up and Aidan came later with Jonah, Jack, Zach, and Corbyn. Daniel was still in Vancouver. Florence expected at least a text for Clementine’s birthday, but it was still radio silence from his end. Even Grayson managed to show up after everything they had been through. Of course, he wasn’t a fan of Matt being there either.

“What’s he doing here?” Grayson asked dryly as Florence passed a wiggling Clementine into his arms. The little girl cuddled into him.

“Just here to celebrate her birthday.” Florence shrugged, glancing over her shoulder at Matt who was pretty much sitting by himself. She turned back to Grayson. “He’s doing better so I invited him.”

“Did you pat him down to check if he brought in any alcohol?”

“Grayson, stop that.” Florence sighed.

“If he tries something, you tell me.”

“What are you going to do? Beat him up at a baby’s first birthday party?”

Grayson couldn’t help but crack a smile at the ridiculousness of it all. “You’re right. Sorry.”

“I know how to handle him now.” Florence tisked. “Now go help yourself to some lunch.”

She watched as he headed for the food table, Clementine perched happily on his hip. The birthday girl babbled excitedly to him as he offered her a potato chip.

Florence took that time to look around the small room that was filled with their little group of friends and family. Clementine was loving the attention. The little girl was absolutely spoiled as the present table was piled high with brightly wrapped gifts.

Florence actually managed to forget her stress and enjoy herself too, that was until the movement of someone walking through the double doors had her whole mood change.

Daniel stood in the doorway nervously, swaying lightly under Florence’s startled and yet expressionless stare. He had his hands in the pockets of his long black trench coat, a black button up and black jeans on underneath, his brown boots completing the neutral look. After a moment of silence only between the two as the party went on behind them, Daniel made his way over to her. He held a small, flat wrapped package in his hand and he tapped it nervously against his fingers.

“I thought you weren’t back from Vancouver until the 4th.” Florence spoke dryly once he stopped in front of her, keeping a good three feet between them.

“How could I miss Clementine’s first birthday?” Daniel said, cracking a small smile and hiding it by looking to the ground.

Florence didn’t answer. Daniel looked past her to where Clementine was across the room with Grayson and Connor, the boys running around in small circles and she ran after them trying to catch them, shrieking happily.

“You didn’t tell me she’s walking now.” Daniel whispered, keeping his eyes on the one year old.

“We’re not friends anymore, remember?” Florence answered quietly.

“Flora, I-“

He was cut off by Clementine waddling messily over to the two of them, attaching herself to her mother’s legs. The little girl’s blue eyes stared up at Daniel under wispy blonde bangs. He bent down in front of her, admiring the not-so-little baby he had watched grow up.

“Hi, Clem.” Daniel greeted her quietly, “Happy birthday.”

“Dada.” Clementine smiled shyly, reaching one tiny hand towards him.

“Still haven’t learned, have you, little miss?” Daniel whispered, pressing his index finger into her outstretched palm. “I’m not dada.”

She wrapped her fingers around his one and he kissed her hand before holding out the small package that was wrapped in bright orange paper to her.

“I have a present for you.” he said gently, smiling as the little girl shrieked in content, reaching for it with two hands.

“We’ll put it on the table, won’t we, Clemmy?” Florence mumbled, taking it gently from her. Daniel stood up as Florence picked up the birthday girl, setting her on her hip. His silent gaze followed them to the table by the wall that held numerous wrapped presents on top of a soft lace tablecloth. He admired their matching light orange pants, white blouses, and brown flats, Clementine’s thin hair tied back with a small bow.

People were looking at him and he could feel it. His best friends sat around a table across the room and Daniel could feel their eyes on him but no one made a move to speak to him. Florence returned to her spot in front of him moments later, Clementine still in her arms. The one year old kept her wide blue eyes on the boy in front of them.

Daniel cleared his throat nervously, his eyes falling to the ground before looking back up at Florence. “I wanted to go and talk with you. If I could.”

The humourless chuckle that fell from her lips sent a chill through the room.

“Please.” Daniel whispered.

“After the party, okay? I’m not going to just leave.” Florence said plainly.

“It’ll be quick.” Daniel said as strongly as he could.

She sighed.

“Please, Flora.”

Florence sighed but nodded, “Give me a second.”

She carried Clementine over to Callum, sitting her on his lap without a word. Her brother watched his strangely silent sister walk away. Florence grabbed her jacket from the rack by the door and zipped it up, glancing at Daniel who joined her, gesturing her out before him.

The cold winter weather wasn’t overly bitter but enough that it was a drastic change from the indoors. Florence crossed her arms over her chest both defensively and in order to try and keep warm as they started walking. Daniel stared at the ground. The snow crunched under their feet, masking the tense silence that lingered between them. They approached the park across the street and made their way down the short path next to the large, old style building. As time passed, Florence was getting more and more upset at him. He invited her out of her daughter’s first birthday party to talk about who-knows-what and yet he was staying silent like an idiot as if he expected her to speak first. She couldn’t keep her scoff to herself.

“Sorry, I just-“ Daniel sighed, finally looking at her. “I just don’t know what to say.”

“Then why did you make me come here?” Florence rolled her eyes.

Daniel looked back to the ground.

“This is stupid.” Florence mumbled to herself and started to walk back towards the apartment building.

Daniel grabbed her arm, stopping her, “No. Wait. Please.”

“Then start talking, Daniel. I’m not going to stand here in the freezing cold for fuck all.” Florence snapped.

“Sit.” Daniel gently pulled her over to a bench. He brushed the snow off before he sat down, giving her more than half of the bench to herself. Florence slowly sat next to him, a good foot between them.

“I wanted to say that I’m sorry.” Daniel started, his voice a gentle whisper.

“Wow. Thanks.” Florence nodded, staring out at the park.

“I know that what I said hurt you. I was trying to put myself first for once and I went about it all wrong.”

“You could have talked to me instead of cutting me off.”

“I know. So that’s why I’m sorry. Really, so sorry.” Daniel watched her helplessly, waiting for any sort of response out of her.

Florence merely sighed, finally meeting his gaze, her eyes squinting in the sun reflecting off the snow. “You kinda broke my heart.”

Daniel felt like the wind was knocked out of him at that statement. “I’m so sorry.”

“I don’t want to say it’s okay because it’s really not.” Florence let out a humourless laugh. “But thank you for saying that.”

Daniel hesitated but nodded once. They fell into silence for a few long seconds.

“I’m sorry too.” Florence said. “For making you feel like your only option was to cut me out.”

“Flora-“

“I’m still trying to figure out a good balance between being a mom and still being a kid myself and I guess I just went about it wrong. I didn’t mean to constantly push Clementine onto you like that.”

“You know I never mind having her around. I just missed when you would come over too. I felt like a babysitting service rather than her best friend.”

“I think Jack’s her new best friend.” Florence chuckled lightly, breaking the tense situation. “His name is literally all she says ever.”

“Yeah,” Daniel laughed, “I’ll have a talk with him about that.”

The two smiled to themselves at opposite sides of the bench.

“So we’re friends again?” Florence asked.

“I hope so.” Daniel looked to her. “It might be weird at first...it’s been so long.”

She scooted closer to him and linked her arm through his.

“It’s okay.” Florence whispered, leaning her head on his shoulder. “I just missed being around you.”

“I missed you too.” Daniel mumbled, tugging the sleeves of his jacket over his hands. They watched people walk by in silence; little children making snowmen and their parents standing by talking with coffee in hand. A young man was throwing a ball for his dog who ran manically through the snow, tearing up white with his paws. The wispy wind was turning the tips of their noses pink, the cool air refreshing on their lungs.

“Is that all you wanted to talk about?” Florence asked after another minute or so.

“N-No.” Daniel sighed.

“Well spit it out.” Florence nudged him playfully.

“Remember Corbyn’s birthday?”

“November 25th.” Florence said.

“His birthday celebration.” Daniel rolled his eyes at her statement.

“Mhm.” Florence nodded, moving back from his shoulder so she could look at him, her hand still loosely resting on his arm.

“You know how I had that...uh...” Daniel pointed to his neck, the pink of his cheeks darkening.

“The hickey.” Florence forced a small chuckle, “Yeah.”

“Do you know who gave it to me?”

“No. And I don’t really want to know.” Florence mumbled nervously.

“Yeah. You do.”

“No. I don’t.” Florence shook her head, the same strange feeling of jealousy bubbling up in her stomach again. “I don’t need to know which random club bitch you almost hooked up with.”

Daniel sighed, “Don’t say it like that.”

“Why?” Florence said awkwardly.

“Just…I don’t know. Never mind.” Daniel shrugged. Florence let her gaze linger on him as he stared at the ground, his hands folded together on his lap. The two sat in silence for a few long seconds, Florence gently gripping the soft material of his sleeve in her hand.

“We should head back.” Florence whispered. Daniel merely nodded.

The two got up from the bench and headed back towards the apartment. The heat pumping through the interior of the building relaxed the two chilled friends. That was, until they approached the small social room on the sixth floor, the double doors open wide and a loud argument occurring inside. Daniel and Florence stopped in the doorway for a moment in shock, watching Emilio and Grayson argue in the middle of the room. Corbyn and Ivan were with them, trying to push them away from each other.

“It never fucking ends.” Florence grumbled, walking briskly away from Daniel to where the commotion was going on. He followed her slowly, standing closer to the rest of his friends who were still sitting at their table. Clementine reached for him from Jack’s lap and he picked her up, not taking his eyes off the argument that was happening a few feet away.

“What is going on?” Florence asked sharply, shoving Emilio back who was getting too close to Grayson for comfort with a finger pushed into his chest.

“He was saying he came here only because you two were getting back together.” Emilio said loudly, his accent thick through his angry words.

“I did not say that!” Grayson retorted sharply. “I was saying I would be better for her than you because I can actually defend her against him.” Grayson pointed a few feet away to where Matt stood behind Corbyn, his arms crossed over his chest and eyebrows furrowed.

“Grayson.” Florence said through her teeth.

“She doesn’t need your help! She’s fine!” Emilio said.

“She doesn’t need your help either. All you do is jump off buildings and act like a fucking child all the damn time. You think Clementine should be brought up around that bullshit?” Grayson retorted.

“At least I have more than my damn money to offer her.” Emilio spat. “At least with me she knows what living is.”

“Excuse me?” Grayson gaped, taking a step towards him.

“You heard me.” Emilio said.

“Emilio, back away.” Ivan ordered, a hand on his brother’s chest to keep him from lunging at Grayson.

“She clearly came to me because you weren’t good enough.” Emilio spat, his light eyes dark with emotion.

“Fuck you, man.” Grayson scoffed. “Go back to Spain or wherever the fuck you came from. So much trouble would have been avoided if you just weren’t here.”

“She still would have dropped you either way.”

“Pare, Emilio, no merece la pena.” Ivan whispered sharply, trying to get his brother to calm down.

Emilio didn’t listen, “Why’d she have to come to me if you were so great to her?”

“Guys.” Corbyn raised his hands between them. “This really isn’t the time or place.”

Ignoring him, Grayson continued, “I’m the one who got her that job, I’m the one who send that asshole packing,” he pointed to Matt again who visibly scoffed, “and I’m the one she wanted to take home for Christmas originally so fuck you.”

Florence stood between the two of them, her wide eyes flicking back and forth with each insult thrown. Emilio was fast with the comebacks, pushing against his twin brother’s grasp to try and take a leap at Grayson. Florence felt her heart beat hard in her chest; what a mess she had made. Corbyn stood slightly in front of her, grabbing the sleeve of Grayson’s white jacket.

“Guys.” Florence spoke as strongly as she could. She could feel tears welling in her eyes and she looked across the room to her twin brother who was sitting at the next table. He watched her with a worried expression.

“Guys.” Florence spoke louder, breaking the two men from their argument. They both looked to her as if forgetting she was even there. “I need to say something.”

The room was held in silence, everyone with their eyes on the girl as she took a few trembling breaths. The four in front of her could see the tears clouding her vision and a single tear fell down her cheek as she spoke to the floor,

“I’m pregnant.”

A cloud of tension settled over the room but not one party guest broke the silence. Grayson and Emilio looked to each other with mere surprise, their anger virtually disappeared by that statement. Matt, who was stood behind the small group, let his mouth fall open in shock and Callum, a few feet away, pressed a hand to his mouth in a similar fashion.

Daniel stood across the room, his heart in his throat. His shocked and frightened gaze fell to Corbyn who was looking back at him with an unreadable expression.

#daniel seavey #daniel seavey fanfic #wdw #why dont we #jonah marais #jack avery #zach herorn #corbyn besson #wdw fanfic #college!wdw #martinez twins #ivan martinez #martinator #emilio martinez #why dont we fanfic #why dont we imagines #writing #anything but mine #daniel seavey imagines

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jasontoddiefor · 4 years

Text

Happy Batfam Fanfic Halloween!

As a special, I tracked down some stories dealing with the Halloween classics: ghosts, vampires and zombies! Today you get 24 spooky stories under the cut!

We’ll return to our regular schedule on Sunday with Billionaire Batfam & Galas fanfic recs.

Have fun and don‘t forget to leave these scary authors a comment!

Title: 106 Summary: Clark receives a letter from a mysterious sender every February 29th. Though figuring out the identity of the sender (and the purpose of the letters) gets put on the back burner when Clark Kent meets Bruce Wayne and his world drastically changes. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6139063

Title: A Victorian Farmhouse in Kansas, a Portrait Painted in 1903, a 1920s Reporter, and a Couple Vampires Summary: Lois Lane finds herself in the midst of a mystery with photographs from Clark Kent's desk in the middle. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7195901

Title: All the Living are Dead, and the Dead are All Living Summary: Bruce Wayne first sees the ghosts that fateful night when he watches his parents die. Martha and Thomas Wayne aren't among them. Years later, Homicide Detective Bruce Wayne witnesses the death of the acrobatic Flying Graysons: John, Mary, and their young son Dick. He works to get them justice with the assistance of the youngest Grayson's ghost, but how will he say goodbye when Dick no longer has unfinished business and leaves the mortal plane once and for all? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1014699

Title: And Lost Boys Fly Summary: Bruce’s children are different; his children will never leave. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1922742

Title: because the night (belongs to lovers) Summary: "Mister Kent," Alfred says, his voice so soft that Clark barely hears him over the noise of the street. "I'm afraid I have some unfortunate news, and I wanted to tell you before the papers do." Clark hesitates, a frown creasing his brow. "What's wrong?" Alfred sighs, the sound rattling through the phone. "I won't mince words, Mister Kent. Master Bruce..." He falters. "Master Bruce passed away this morning." Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11907906

Title: bela lugosi’s dead Summary: Small towns seem even smaller when you’re trying to hide. When the entire family can’t keep a secret, Bruce Wayne--struggling vampire dad--finds out that they’re basically microscopic. “So, since there aren’t as many deer near the town this year, the state’s giving out individual buck tickets.” Jim said. “The seasonal hunters spoke with me, and we were hoping you could, uh,” he looked away, clearly uncomfortable with the subject matter. “...stick to the does until November.” “Stick to the does.” Bruce repeated, raising his eyebrows. “Yeah, uh.” he drew up short, struggling to form a response. “Uh huh, I think we could definitely, uh...do that.” Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15836742

Title: City Limits Summary: Gotham's urban legends aren't always toothless stories. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/691809

Title: Count Bat-cula Summary: Batman is totally not a vampire. No really, he's not. It's not his fault rumors spread. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15470145

Title: Eternal Soliloquy Summary: “Just because I’m not here, doesn’t mean I’m not here,” Jason insists. Not that it makes a difference; no one ever hears him. The one where Jason isn't resurrected, but that's not going to stop him from being a part of the family. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13790433

Title: Flutter, Flutter Little Bat Summary: Jason goes to the Manor on Halloween to hang out with Alfred while everyone else is out. In costume. The problem is, Bruce isn't out. Bruce is home. Jason ends up not hating that as much as he thought he would. Also, Bruce wears a costume to make his son happy. It works. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16449962

Title: I’ll Be Good Summary: Whatever happened to Tim Drake? Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1035662

Title: jason the friendly ghost Summary: Jason isn’t gone. He lives in the memorial case and takes his job of haunting the cave only a little seriously. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1555727

Title: Misadventures in the Mythical Summary: Tim Drake was upset when his parents died. Not distraught, just upset. He was more concerned about what would happen to him now. When Tim's parents die, Bruce Wayne adopts him to make sure that he stays out of the foster system. It isn't long, though, before Tim starts noticing that not everything about the enigmatic Mr Wayne and his two sons, Dick and Jason, is what it appears to be. So, in typical Tim fashion, he begins to investigate. And it all goes downhill from there. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/129933

Title: Shadows Walking Summary: Many have tried to prove once and for all that Batman is a man. They’re tired of listening to all the speculation that he isn’t - that he’s a vampire, and instead of just blood he takes your soul, too. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21205718

Title: Sufficient Unto The Day (The Evil Thereof Remix) Summary: Robin wasn’t supposed to be the scary one. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/386331

Title: The Blood of the Covenant Summary: Bruce was twelve, —but with a birthday only a few days away he insisted everyone call him thirteen— and like most nearly thirteen year olds, Bruce went to school, hated homework, and loved nothing more than a root-beer float from the retro looking corner-store a block from school, or Alfred’s freshly baked chocolate chip cookies. With two eyes, two arms, and two knees he got scratched up from falling down in the grass a few too many times, he looked like most kids his age too. In fact, nothing about Bruce stood out at all among his wealthy classmates, except that he lived in a haunted mansion. Oh and also, his parents should be dead. I.e.: the Waynes Live But Get Turned Into Vampires™ fic literally no one asked for - but I made it angsty (and sweet) anyway. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18593824

Title: The Grave Answered Summary: Exactly six months after Jason's death, Bruce returns to the cemetery to talk to his son. He is almost used to it by now. He talks. The grave never answers. But tonight is different... Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12155388

Title: The Robin Effect Summary: Dick Grayson died on June 27 but his spirit remained lively. The fortune teller foretold it so. Predicted what must always remain true. Dick Grayson will always find a way to live on. To prevail. [AU were Dick never truly meets his end] Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19148227

Title: This is all all all that is real Summary: Bruce keeps seeing Jason after his death. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/889530

Title: Two Forms, One Soul Summary: When Dick Grayson asks Clark Kent for help, Clark finds his teammate and friend Bruce Wayne oddly changed. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/436292

Title: Under The Bed Summary: “He’s not going to eat you, you know.” Batman and Nightwing are vampires. Jason has some concerns. Dick does his best. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1187669

Title: What we leave behind Summary: "Who's Damian?" "My Friend. He lives here too!" - Bruce never managed to resurrect Damian. Now, years after the Waynes have passed on, the new inhabitants of Wayne Manor meet their daughter's imaginary friend. Ghost!Damian fic Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8208338

Title: When the Dead call Summary: Jason returns from the grave with the uncanny ability to see ghosts everywhere he goes, and unfortunately for him, the dead don't care about his carefully laid plans for Bruce and Gotham. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18705049

Title: When the Lightning walks about Summary: After losing their house in Star City, ex-billionaire Oliver Queen and his ward Roy Harper relocate to Gotham in an old abandoned manor. After a strange run-in with a boy, however, the abandoned house doesn't feel quite so abandoned. In fact, there are quite a few faces in the empty halls. Link: https://archiveofourown.org/works/967477

#dc #dc comics #batfam #batman #jason todd #bruce wayne #dick grayson #tim drake #damian wayne #Stephanie Brown #Halloween #batfamrecs

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summahsunlight · 4 years

Text

The First Step

Word Count: 3320

Characters: Tim McGee, Tony DiNozzo, others mentioned

Summary: Sometimes we just need a friend to help us get back on our feet. Tony and McGee friendship fic.

A/N: This was the first ever NCIS fic I wrote. Originally posted on FF (which I’m slowly moving away from to AO3). Link to the AO3 story is posted below. As I post more NCIS stories, I will create a master list. Enjoy!

AO3

Timothy McGee could not believe he was about to do this, but he steeled himself and banged on his partner's door—loudly.

It had been four days since anyone had spoken to Tony DiNozzo. He was ignoring cell phone calls, landline calls and emails. Effectively the federal agent had shut himself up in his apartment and off from the world. Abby was in tears most of the time, Gibbs snarled at McGee at every opportunity he got. The poor green agent that had been assigned to the now empty desk had only lasted a day before she ran from the building in hysterics herself.

Everything had fallen apart four days ago. And he wasn't even embellishing like Tony. Ziva's abrupt departure had thrown them all into a topsy-turvy, spiral, where some of them were fairing better than others.

"Come on, DiNozzo, I know you're in there!" Tim hissed. "Abby traced your cell."

Slowly the door to the apartment opened and all fight left Tim as a hallow look peered back at him from heavy lidded hazel eyes. It appeared Tony had not shaved—or showered for the matter—in a week. An unkempt beard covered his face, his skin, which usually had a healthy tan to it, was a gray pallor, and his breath reeked of stale beer and whiskey. "Tony?" He gasped, pale green eyes widening. "What the hell?"

"Oh, nice to see you too, McGee" Tony snapped but there was no bite behind it.

Tim realized he was looking at a man that was defeated. He wasn't sure he'd ever seen Tony quite like this. Not even after the break-up with Jeanne had the man gone on what was most appropriately deemed a bender. Tony was warped into a man that Tim didn't even know anymore. "Listen, I'm sorry. That came out wrong. But your appearance…it's not what I'm used too and we've been worried about you since we got the news that Ziva was leaving. Ducky said you needed your space. But Abby wanted to storm the gates—this was the compromise."

Tony grunted a response and threw open the door, allowing Tim access to his domain. The usually neat and orderly apartment was in disarray. Dirty clothes were tossed everywhere, pizza boxes towered on the dining room table, and beer bottles accented as many empty surfaces as possible. Ironically the only thing that could be considered clean was the goldfish bowl. Kate the goldfish happily swam around her bowl, in pristine water, and Tim realized that there was a sliver of hope that deep down Tony was still Tony—he still cared about something.

For a moment Tim watched as Tony plopped back down onto his sofa, eyes focused on the screen on some movie that the younger man had no idea about. There was a bottle of Jack Daniels on the coffee table and he winced at the implications of that. His partner had moved on from beer to the heavy stuff. He supposed that all men had a breaking point—he just never believed Tony DiNozzo was amongst them. Abby had once said that he was a solid rock. It took a lot to chip him and everything just rolled off of him and he kept going.

But was that a fair description? Tony was, despite the juvenile nature, very complex.

"So, um, Abby and I were wondering if you'd meet us for drinks later," Tim ventured.

Tony reached for his bottle of whiskey and took a swig. "Got plenty of drinks here."

Tim winced. That had been a dumb question. It was obvious that Tony had been drinking since he'd come back from tracking down Ziva. He knew it was none of his business but he desperately wanted to know what she had said to Tony to shove him on this self-destructive path. "We can do pizza and a movie. Or Chinese. It's been awhile since we all hung out. And I think…I think we all need it."

His partner shrugged his shoulders. "Don't feel like hanging out, Probie. You and Abby go and have a great time though. Suppose she's upset."

"Well, yeah, I mean she had to deal with us all resigning and we're not exactly coming back whole, are we?"

"Nope. We're not."

"Listen, if you need to talk about it."

Tony glared at him and Tim backed down. There was a dangerous look in the senior field agent's eyes and Tim was not in the mood to explore it. After all, Abby had requested that he get Tony to come out of his apartment for a few hours, not make matters worse.

Tim looked around the room, listening to the old movie playing in the background. "We can go bowling. Sister Rosita and the nuns bowl tonight. They'd love to have us."

"Sorry, but no thanks. My back hurts."

"Come on, are you going to hole yourself up here for the rest of your life?" Tim sputtered. "It's not the first time changes to our team have been made. You once told me that you suffered through a rotation of agents and then as a two-man team with Gibbs before Kate joined. We'll get through this. It's not reason to drink. We survived Kate's death, we can survive this, Tony."

"This is different," Tony mumbled.

"Of course it's different. It's better, right? I mean, Ziva isn't dead. It's not like she can't come back and visit us."

"She won't."

He was a little tongued tied. "You psychic now?"

Tony shook his head, another swallow of whiskey. "Nope. She made it clear that she needed a clean break. If she comes back, it won't be any time soon. Tell Abby she can stop emailing and begging Ziva."

"How...never mind, it's not important that you knew this," Tim said, putting his hands up in surrender. "What's important is that we get you out of this apartment and...and functioning again."

"Saying I'm dysfunctional McGee?"

Tim's mouth hung open for a moment. "Well! Look at you!" he gestured to Tony's bum like appearance. He really didn't know what else to say. It was the last card he could possibly think to play at this point.

Tony quirked an eyebrow and swirled the amber liquid around in the Jack Daniels bottle. "Guess I have let myself go."

"You guess?"

"Alright I have. Just a little."

"Just a little?" Tim spat, the pitch of his voice raising. God, I need a mirror so he can see.

His partner didn't offer any counter argument to that and leaned back into the cushions, watching the movie on his plasma television screen. He was really starting to worry Tim. Had Tony been this messed up after Kate died? Tim couldn't recall but at the time he was still fairly new to NCIS and had easily accepted whatever Tony told him. He should have known that Tony did not cope with Kate's death by eating junk food. Tim rubbed his temple for a moment. "Come on, Tony. You need to get out. Hiding away here isn't doing you any good."

Tony threw his head back and took another long swig of the whiskey. Wiping his mouth clean of the alcohol with his sleeve, he narrowed his eyes at Tim. "I know what I need—to be left alone. I'm not going to bounce back like you or Abby or Jimmy. I'm not going to let this roll off my shoulder like Gibbs or Ducky. Because it's different this time. This isn't just a partner leaving. She meant more to me than a partner, than a friend. And forgive me, if I feel like drowning my sorrows in alcohol and old movies."

Suddenly the gravity of his words hit Tim full bore in the chest. He saw the pain, the betrayal and the longing in his partner's eyes. He'd been turning a blind eye now for years. Sure, he'd always known that Tony and Ziva's relationship was different, he just didn't think-or refused to believe-Tony had actually fallen in love with her. Lord does he have a way of falling in love with the wrong woman, Tim thought as he found the easy chair and sat down. "She was Mossad, Tony. You didn't actually think…it was every going to work out in the end, did you?"

"Not when she was officially with Mossad, no," Tony muttered, closing his eyes tightly, "but she left them, to join us because…foolishly I thought it was because she wanted to start anew."

"And you thought, someday, it would work."

"Yeah. Should have known it wasn't going to end any other way. Once Mossad, always Mossad, eh?" Tony spat, bitterly. Another swig of whiskey. "Just another notch on my stupid things I've done belt."

Tim shook his head. "It wasn't stupid, Tony. We can't always control who we fall in love with."

Tony peered at him, thoughtfully. "Look at you, McRomeo. I take it that fair Delilah is treating you well."

"Don't change the subject—this is about you," Tim admonished him. "And besides, you'll bounce back—you always do."

"No, I don't just bounce back. I'm not a rubber ball."

"I don't understand."

Slowly Tony let out a breath, and looked right at Tim. "After Wendy left, I didn't eat for weeks. Gibbs almost literally had to shove food down my throat, pick me up and dust me off," Tony mused. "It was years before I actually went on a date again. Just around the time we met you I think. Oh, don't look that surprised. You've known for a while now that most of the time the women are just apart of the act."

Tim had to admit there were times he was certain that Tony's stories of his dates and his little black book were just that—stories. But hearing first hand affirmation of that shocked him. "And after Jeanne?"

Tony shrugged. "Pretty much the same, except for Gibbs picking me up and dusting me off. I kept the pain private, made it look like that I really had been acting and that I never did love her. Truth was, I loved her—a lot. If we had met under different circumstances, say, where she knew the real me, I might have ended up making a life with her."

"EJ?"

"It hurt that she didn't trust me. Ran from me all the time. But I couldn't let people see how much it hurt. Have a reputation to maintain after all, McGee."

"Tony…why didn't you…God, we would have helped you."

Silence fell between them for a moment, before the SFA put the bottle of whiskey down and looked at his partner, sternly. "You already don't think very highly of me, McGee. I didn't want to give you anymore ammunition to use against me if you saw how weak I'd become."

Tim looked away, embarrassed. It was true. He wasn't always nice to Tony but somewhere throughout their eleven years of working together, the man's goofy charm had grown on him. It was true that at times Tony annoyed the hell out of him, but as of late, he was finding that he really missed the oddball joke or movie reference just to break the tension. "Yeah. Guess I owe you an apology."

Tony shook his head. "No. You don't. I didn't make it easy for you."

"I'll say," Tim mumbled. He heard Tony chuckle for the first time since arriving.

Again they fell into silence, the only sound in the apartment that of the old movie playing on the television, and then the clunk of the Jack Daniels bottle as it was set down onto the coffee table. Tim watched as Tony rubbed his hands over his scraggly face. "What am I doing, McGee?"

Tim cocked an eyebrow in curiosity. "You mean besides locking yourself away, drinking at all hours of the day and watching old Cary Grant movies?"

Tony smiled, sadly. "Impressive, McGee. Didn't know you were familiar with Cary Grant."

"Well, Ducky says you fancy you self the modern day Cary Grant with your dress," Tim replied with a slight shrug of his shoulders. "But back to the point, since your ADD has sent us off track again. What do you mean, what are you doing?"

"I'm sitting here wallowing over a woman that I was never in a relationship with."

"Come on. Not the first time a guy has wallowed over a woman that wasn't his."

Tony grunted, lowly. "Don't try to make me feel better, because this is how I end up—again and again. In the movies it's the pretty girl crying over the jock breaking her heart. My life—it's my heart that's been broken over and over. Wendy, Jeanne, EJ—Ziva—they all left me."

Tim absorbed that bit of information. "Come on, you must have ended a relationship before."

"I've ended a lot of one night stands and long weekends, relationships that really do not qualify as one."

"I could drop a horrible cliché here and say, everything happens for a reason."

Tony shook his head, trying to clear his thoughts. "Horribly cliché. Not sure the reason why my heart being broken over and over again is. Guess I should just come to terms with the fact that I'm probably going to be alone the rest of my life. I'm married to the job."

Tim didn't know why but his partner's declaration of damning himself to solo life, stung. Tony didn't deserve all that had been thrown at him over the years and as he sat there with him, Tim was beginning to wonder why the mental breakdown had taken so long to grasp him. Of course, maybe it was always that the thought that someday Ziva would feel the same way about Tony and everything was going to work out that they would get their happy ending. Who knew that the womanizing, play boy, Anthony DiNozzo was really a hopeless romantic at heart? "You just haven't met the right girl yet."

"Ya think, Probie?"

"Listen. If it's going to happen maybe you shouldn't be looking for it."

"Wasn't looking for it when I fell for Ziva."

Tim rubbed his temple. They could easily go around in circles for hours. Tony was good at that. "You said Ziva was different. She was different because she was your partner for eight years. You survived all different kinds of hell with her. There's a small possibly that you love her but you're not in love with her."

Tony reached for the bottle of Jack and took a long sip. "You're not making any sense, ."

"Hear me out."

"Fine."

Tim took a deep breath. "If you were in love with her you would have stormed off that plane in Israel and told her. If you were in love with her you would have stopped her from going on that suicide mission to Somalia. If you were in love with her you wouldn't have waited for Gibbs silent signal to go after her when she stormed out of the cabin in May. If you were in love with her you never would have let the relationship with Ray get that close to marriage and that was only stopped because the guy killed someone."

Tony looked away, briefly. "You forget I went to Africa to avenge her death, I disregarded protocol to protect her when Rivkin was in town, and I spent all those hours trying to track down those damn opera tickets but had to settle for a recording. Does someone who isn't in love do that?"

"You did all those things because you care about her. You didn't want her to lose her job when Rivkin was compromising her, we both went to Somalia to avenge her death, and we both know how much honoring Tali means to her. You leave Nutter Butters on my desk all the time, bring me coffee late at night and Chinese food. Abby gets roses and cupcakes on her birthday, and whenever she's down, I can usually find her here, curled up on your sofa with you watching a movie—does that mean you're in love with us too?"

"Don't be ridiculous, Probie. I do that because I care about you guys."

Suddenly a look of understanding passed over Tony's face. Tim finally felt he'd broken through. God, Tony was stubborn, and Abby was right that he was a rock—but he was a rock wall that needed to be chipped away in order to get to him.

In that moment the senior field agent's shoulders eased and it was as if he finally came to accept that Ziva wasn't coming back, that he needed to move on with his life no matter how much it hurt. Tim wasn't stupid. He knew that Tony wasn't going to heal overnight, but at least he could go back to NCIS and report to Abby that he broken Tony out of his fog.

Maybe now he would come back into work. Vance was being awfully lenient with all of them, giving them some days to sort everything out before returning to work. Tim and Gibbs had not taken the days offered to them, but Tony had. It had surprised them both if they were honest.

"So. What are you going to tell Abby when you go back?"

"Oh, ah, that you just need some time…and space."

His lips pulled into a small grin. "Like Abby's going to listen to that. She'll be here tonight," Tony replied.

Tim winced. "Yeah. Probably. I'm really sorry, Tony."

"Don't be," Tony said, pulling himself from the sofa. "Gives me an excuse to finally clean the place up, maybe shave and take a shower."

"Maybe? You smell like you've been lost in the desert for weeks."

Tony lifted his tee shirt to his nose and sniffed. He made a vulgar face and agreed. "Yeah, maybe I'll shower first."

Tim felt some relief wash through him. "Want me to stay and help?" When Tony threw him a questionable look, he clarified, "I mean with the cleaning."

"Put the pizza boxes in the trash chute on your way out?"

"Sure."

Tony moved towards the bathroom but paused. Slowly he turned while Tim was gathering up the pizza boxes and bit down on his lower lip. "Probie."

Tim glanced up from his cleaning and looked at his partner expectantly.

"Thanks. For picking me up and dusting me off."

"No problem, Tony."

"You do realize that if you tell anyone about our little heart to heart here I will have Abby kill you without leaving forensic evidence?"

Tim couldn't help the goofy grin that plastered his face. It was great to have a semblance of the old Tony back. "Yeah. I know."

Tony grunted and disappeared into the bathroom. Tim gathered up the pizza boxes, left the apartment with the door slamming shut behind him and tossed the trash down the chute. On his way out of the building he shoved his hands into his pockets. He knew that Ziva leaving was going to linger with Tony for a long time but at least now he was moving beyond sitting on his sofa drinking the days away.

And that, he reasoned, was a the first step.

#ncis #ncis fanfiction #tony dinozzo #timothy mcgee #the first step

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bitterepiphany · 3 years

Text

your silent words

ao3

basically a smutty rewrite of the arumika oneshot i did a little while ago

His words did little to ease the worry in Mikasa’s eyes, but she straightened in her seat, meeting Armin’s eyes briefly and gave a small nod.

****

He reached out and touched her arm. “Mikasa?”

“Armin…” Her voice was barely a whisper, hardly rising above the gentle sounds of waves beneath the dock they stood upon. “What am I supposed to do? Wh-why did he leave? What did I-”

“We’ve only got thirty minutes to get out of here before they start asking questions!” he yelled, “I’m sorry, but we either leave Eren here, wherever he is, or we leave you all here!”

“Quit your moping, brats.” Levi glared at them all in turn. His eyes softened slightly. “Let’s just go home.”

He didn’t let go of Mikasa’s hand the entire trip back.

****

“Come on in!”

Hange was perched atop their desk, examining a wad of paper. Upon seeing who it was, they grinned and hopped down.

Hange nodded, mouth full. “Oh yeah, go on?”

“Oh!” Armin was surprised at how willingly they agreed. “I mean if there’s anything else you need me to do before I go -”

Armin smiled, nodding. “Thank you so much Hange, really.”

Hange just ushered him out of their office, stuffing another biscuit into his hand.

****

They were rubbing down their horses Jean sighed. “You know, sometimes I miss those days when we were all together in Levi Squad.”

Armin paused, tilting his head thoughtfully. “Well, we still technically are part of his squad, but…”

Armin chuckled, recalling how Levi still somehow managed to get on their asses about keeping themselves clean while they slept huddled together under trees in the dirt.

“Yeah… somehow, those days seem more laid back than what we have to do now, in a way,” he said, making his way to the mess hall with Jean. “Oh, by the way, how’s Mikasa doing?”

Jean, who’s hand was reaching to open the door, paused. He looked over at Armin, sighing. “She’s the reason you came, right?” he asked.

Armin nodded.

The sound of wood scraping on wood filled the room as the recruits hurried to their feet. They saluted. “Sir!”

“You didn’t track in dirt, did you?” Armin shook his head, smiling. Levi looked over at Jean, who was getting food. “Tsk... Jean! Get Arlert a plate too!”

Armin made his way to the table, where Mikasa sat. She looked up at him, eyes wide. They just looked at each other for a moment, Armin trying to see how she was before he said anything.

“Mika -”

She jumped up suddenly, and wrapped Armin in a tight hug. The tension left his body, and he hugged her back, smiling as she rested her cheek on top of his head. “Hey… I missed you,” he mumbled.

Her arms tightened around him. “I missed you too, Armin.”

****

The night had passed without event, Armin, Jean, and Mikasa chatting about what they had been up to the past few months, laughing together when Levi roused on the recruits for making a mess of the food hall. As they helped clean up, Armin scrubbed dishes, when Levi approached him and pulled him aside. He placed a hand on his shoulder.

“I’m holding you to that, brat,” Levi groused. He jabbed a finger out at Armin’s chest. “I won’t let you leave till she’s back in somewhat working order, you hear me?”

“Yes sir!”

I guess some things never change, huh?

****

“‘Kay”

“Remember when I used to braid this for you when it was longer?”

“Yeah,” he murmured, “You were always really good at that kind of stuff…”

She hummed. “Sometimes I miss your old hair..”

“Really?” He scoffed. “I don’t, it was ridiculous! I looked like a blonde coconut!”

She chuckled at that, tousling his hair roughly and eliciting a small squeak of protest from his mouth. “It suited you though, you were cute.”

He wasn’t sure if those feelings ever went away. They were buried, deep down inside of him, pushed aside due to the knowledge of how Mikasa felt about Eren. They were so close, though, that the casual touches, the inside jokes, and soft gazes were so common that Armin sometimes struggled with the thoughts of how he felt about her. Most days, he thought he had accepted it, accepted the fact that that sort of bridge had never been built between them. But now, with her fingers running through his hair, her eyes locked onto his, he wasn’t sure whether the lurch in his stomach as the lamp light fell across her face was from dinner, nerves, or something he’d rather not address.

“Armin…”

Her voice had dropped to a whisper, husky with something that made Armin’s skin crawl with goosebumps. The atmosphere was heavy with something he was scared to identify.

Suddenly, her hands were framing his face, and she was straddling his hips. Armin’s breath caught, his body reacting too fast for him to control, and before he knew it, his hands rested on her hips, gripping lightly. There was something desperate in her gaze, eyes searching his for something he didn’t think he could give.

“Mika-!”

Satin lips were pressed against his, hard, fast, hungry, with a brute strength and ferocity that only Mikasa could be known for. He had little choice but to give, the cautionary part of his brain screaming ‘ stop her!’ falling to the wayside of the part that urged him on, that caused him to grip her sides harder, to push back with an unknown strength of his own, to slide his tongue over her’s, to explore her mouth in all the ways he had imagined in the past.

But when he opened his eyes and saw the tears lining hers, saw the jumps in her breaths as she attempted to contain her grief, Armin couldn’t continue. He pushed her back gently, brushing the hair out of her eyes.

“Mikasa,” he murmured, “You need to talk to me. Not, whatever… this is.”

She averted her eyes quickly, turning her face. There was a pause. “Talk about what?”

Armin frowned. Slowly, his hand travelled down her face and caught her cheek, turning it back to face him. Their eyes met. “You know saying that won’t work on me right?” She just looked at him, eyes wide. He could feel her tremble under his fingers. “I’m here, Mikasa.”

And just like that, the dam broke. Her face crumpled, and broken sobs ripped out of her throat. She collapsed into him, head landing on his chest, and he gathered her into his arms and just held her. She curled up in his lap, her head buried in the crook of his shoulder, hands balled so tightly in his shirt he wouldn’t be surprised if he found it ripped later. He settled his chin atop her head, fingers stroking the hair on the nape of her neck, slowly, soothingly.

Mikasa glanced sheepishly up at him, mouth parting to form words. Armin’s finger pressed against her lips, stifling them. “Don’t apologise,” he said quietly, “It’s okay.”

“Hey, hey…” Armin soothed, thumbing away the liquid on her face. “I told you before, you did - you’re doing - everything you could.” He lightly brushed her hair out of her eyes again, leaned forward, and pressed his lips to her forehead. “Mikasa…” he mumbled against her skin, “You’re here, and that’s enough.” He paused, gathering his nerves to say what he planned to next.

“If… if you need something, like that … I-I can help, I guess?”

Her shoulders shook slightly as she took a breath.

“I don’t wanna use you like that, Armin…” she whispered, looking down at her legs curled around his hips. “Even… even if I don’t even know how I feel about you in that way right now… I know how you feel about Annie, and I don’t- I don’t want to ruin -”

He cut her off by pressing a long, hard kiss to her lips. She melted into him, resistance crumbling.

“I’m not thinking about Annie, Mikasa. I’m thinking about you. You’re not going to ruin anything, I promise.”

Something between them broke at his words. She surged back towards him, kissing him desperately. Clearly, she didn’t want to waste any time, her hips rocking against the steadily growing bulge in his pants, causing him to moan softly into her mouth. Her lips separated from his with a slight smack, and she tilted his jaw up with her fingers, peppering butterfly kisses all over his neck.

Quick as anything, she unbuttoned her shirt and pulled it off, not even giving Armin a chance to admire her toned body before he was entranced by the sight of her bare breasts; she had removed her bra too with laser-quick efficiency.

In the attempt to keep up with her pace, Armin’s hands cupped her breasts, squeezing them, rewarding him with soft, breathy sounds from Mikasa, which only grew louder as he leaned forward and captured a nipple between his lips. He sucked, their bodies moving as they grinded against one another.

Armin’s shirt found its place on the ground, and soon did his pants. He couldn’t contain his groans of pleasure as her slender fingers stroked up his hard length, practically yelling aloud when her lips sealed themselves around the tip, bobbing up and down lightly.

“M-mika, I’m not gonna.. if you…” he choked out. She seemed to get the message, releasing his cock with a loud pop, and fumbling with her pants.

Every inch of her body was a sculpted killing machine, and Armin somehow got the privilege to see her bare and vulnerable like this. They gasped and moaned into each other’s mouths as she lowered herself onto him. She set the pace, keeping her eyes locked with his as they started slowly, building themselves into a rhythm, her hands on his chest, his on the surprising softness of her ass.

She was very vocal, groaning and humming in pleasure as she worked herself on him, and soon it became too much for Armin to handle. Gathering his strength, he surprised them both by successfully flipping her onto the mattress in a single, fluid motion. Pressing his lips to hers, he set a hard and fast pace, swearing softly under his breath as her walls gripped him tightly.

She urged him on, legs locking behind his hips, arms looped around his neck, whispering encouragements in his ear until he peaked, remembering to pull himself out and spill onto her stomach, burying his face and stifling his moans in her shoulder.

Mikasa pressed a tender kiss to his collarbone as she gently pushed him off of her, and he rolled to the side, panting in exertion. In a contented silence, they cleaned themselves up together, then slipped under the covers.

Armin wrapped her in his arms, and reached behind him to flick off the lamp. Darkness swept across the room, and he settled against her, burying his face in her hair.

****

The weeks passed in a contented blur following that night. Mikasa emerged from her cocoon of misery and returned, for the most part, to her normal self. Armin spent almost all his time with her, just enjoying each other’s company, letting themselves forget some of the outside worries, focusing instead on the recruits, Levi, and the rotating members of their squad that came to train with them. Both Sasha and Connie had arrived, stayed for a few days, and been on their way respectively, and had both been ecstatic to hear that Mikasa was doing better. Sasha was so happy she had hoisted Armin over her shoulder and paraded him around, yelling about how he was a magician.

Ever since that first night, where the recruits had witnessed them hug openly, whispers and giggles followed them around whenever they were together - which was basically all the time. Their openly affectionate nature towards each other didn’t help dispel the rumors that Armin was Mikasa’s lover, either. He heard enough envious groans from both male and female recruits alike that sometimes he teased them by making a show of linking his and Mikasa’s arms together as they walked, or randomly giving her surprise hugs from behind. They would smirk at each other, knowing that if the recruits found out about what they were really doing together, the reactions would be much more severe.

Mikasa stayed in his room almost all nights, quietly slipping through the door with her cat-like grace, padding across the floor and locking his lips with hers. Armin asked no questions, and they rarely talked on these occasions; they would strip, fuck each other senseless, then tangle themselves together to sleep, exhausted enough by their ‘ activities’ that they would just be lulled to sleep soon enough.

“I’ll come up too,” Mikasa said, linking her fingers with his as he mounted his horse. “It’ll be good to take these kids out, and I’m sure even grandpa over there is getting sick of this place.”

“Oi brat, I heard that!”

Armin chuckled, squeezing her hand. “Promise me you’ll find me if you ever need to talk about anything?”

“Promise.”

She smiled and waved as he rode away, remaining in the same spot, watching him as she grew smaller and smaller over his shoulder, until she disappeared from sight entirely.

****

Mikasa made good on her promise to visit, and she and Armin spent the months alternating travelling north and south to visit for a few days at a time in between work. She seemed to enjoy her time at HQ, sometimes showing the recruits around and helping Levi and Hange assign them tasks, or just hung out with Armin in his office. She helped him with his ‘work’ , locking his office door behind her, or dragging him into a spare bunkhouse where they would have their way with each other. Other times they would just hang out; play silly games; sneak food in and eat; or they would sprawl on the floor and he would read books out loud to her.

He took her to see Annie in the basement once. She just stood there, gazing up at the crystallised girl, eyes contemplative. She didn’t say anything, and simply watched as Armin went through his usual routine, recounting what he had been up to since he had visited last, reading snippets from the newspaper, and reciting random facts about things that popped into his head. Hitch wasn’t in today, so it was just him and Mikasa. Armin could feel Mikasa’s gaze on him as he went through the motions, but he couldn’t bring himself to feel guilty when he came apart under her touch when she dropped to her knees in front of his desk that same afternoon.

It was during one of their less ‘active’ afternoons when they were leant up against each other, Armin reading some fantasy novel about a prince going on a quest to save a princess, when Hange suddenly burst through the door, looking frantic. Armin jerked and looked up at them, only to feel his stomach drop as he saw what they clutched in their hand.

A letter. And Armin recognised the messy scrawl on the envelope.

****

Mikasa looked over at him, and he knew that she was aware of his thoughts. She shifted closer to him, covering one of his hands with her own. He looked up at her, and tried to smile reassuringly.

“Armin,” she said suddenly, breaking their silence. “I will stay with you, if you want me to. I can support you with what you have to do.”

Armin looked at her, his best friend, his rock, his one constant throughout their crazy lives. He smiled.

“Yeah. Together.”

#arumika #armin arlert #mikasa ackerman #oneshot

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puppetwritings · 6 years

Text

A Little Sprout of Love || Seungcheol || Pt. 7

Pt. 1 // Pt. 2 // Pt. 3 // Pt. 4 // Pt. 5 // Pt. 6 // Pt. 7 // Pt. 8 // Pt. 9 (FINAL)

Word Count: 1787

Genre: fluff, single-parent!au, daycare!au, casual writing

Summary: Seungcheol never thought he would be able to love again. He was distracted by his own daughter and he found it difficult to trust anyone. Love comes when one least expects it and Seungcheol certainly didn’t expect his daughter’s daycare teacher to be the one to plant the little sprout of love in his heart.

Seungcheol lifted the suitcase into the back of the van and straightened up, holding out his hands for the next one.

“Oh, it’s so nice having a nice, strong man to help us out,” Jihyun cooed as she rolled the next piece of luggage over to Seungcheol.

Mingyu raised an eyebrow. “Hey? Hello? Am I not here?”

“Are you the one putting our suitcases into the back though?” Jihyun shot back with a raised eyebrow and a tilted head.

“Jihyun, don’t be so harsh on him,” you sighed. “He’ll be pouty the entire trip.”

Mingyu frowned, “Is that the only reason you’re taking my side?”

“Of course, that’s the only reason she’s taking your side,” Jihoon replied cheerfully with a pat to Mingyu’s back.

Mingyu scoffed, looking utterly betrayed and Seungcheol laughed. “Aw, I’m sure they don’t mean it.”

“It’s okay,” Mingyu said, poutily. “I’m used to this. This is what I live through every day.”

“Don’t be so dramatic,” Yoona said with a roll of her eyes.

Once the crew had piled into the van, Jihyun leaned forward and tapped Seungcheol, who glanced back at her with an expectant smile. “How did you meet Y/N again?”

“She’s my daughter’s daycare teacher.”

“You have a daughter?” Yoona gasped. “Really? How big is she? Why didn’t you invite your wife along with you?”

You laughed awkwardly and gave Yoona a look but Seungcheol only politely smiled.

“My daughter’s about two and I’m not married.”

“Oh,” Yoona pursed her lips. “Sorry, I—”

“It’s okay, it’s a common question,” Seungcheol shrugged.

There was an awkward silence that dispersed as soon as the car started moving. You glanced at Seungcheol who smiled at the scene in front of him peacefully. You weren’t sure if it was a habit or not, but he seemed like a father watching over youths bickering and biting at each other. You pressed your lips together to suppress a laugh. Seungcheol glanced over and raised an eyebrow.

“Nothing,” you waved him off.

Seungcheol smiled slightly but looked away.

Once your group reached the destination, Seungcheol looked about in slight surprise. A cabin in the woods.

“It’s Yoona’s grandparents’,” you explained quietly. Seungcheol nodded slowly as he watched everyone unpacking. “They’re trying to make it like camping, except less…nature.”

Seungcheol couldn’t help but laugh at that and he grinned. “I haven’t been camping since high school.”

You glanced at him and took in his sparkling eyes. You could feel your heart do a little wiggle before you looked at your friends. “I’ve never been real camping. Just this cabin stuff.”

“Do you wanna go?” Seungcheol asked, turning to you with his sparkling eyes. “I can take you. We can go with Jeonghan and Ara.”

You laughed and nodded. “Sure. That sounds nice. But…”

“Are you wondering if Ara will like it? I’m sure she’ll be fine.”

“Oh, no. I’m sure Ara would love it. I was wondering about Jeonghan,” you said jokingly.

Seungcheol stared at you for a moment for doubling over in laughter. You couldn’t help but smile at his amusement. You rarely saw this bright smile on Seungcheol’s face. Usually he was so restrained and…mature. Now, you could see a hint of what he had been like when he was young and before he had been heartbroken. You felt the warm feeling creeping its way into your chest and you could only look away when Seungcheol recovered and looked at you.

“Hey, are you two coming?” Jihyun called out.

“Coming!” you said, starting to walk towards the cabin. Seungcheol stayed rooted for a moment before he smiled and followed you.

“So, this is the plan,” Mingyu said. “We’re going to go into town to buy food but at least two people will stay here to clean up the cabin. We’ll draw lots.”

This was taking “getting the short end of the stick” a little too literally but in the end, it was you and Seungcheol who were unlucky. The others didn’t even bother to hide their glee as they quickly left, excitedly leave you two to clean the cabin.

“Those stupid kids,” you grumbled as you reluctantly picked up a duster.

Seungcheol chuckled and placed a hand on your head. He ruffled your hair, “We can only blame our luck.”

You glanced back at him with widened eyes but turned back to working quickly. Seungcheol smiled and the two of you quickly cleaned up the cabin. Even by the time you were done, the others weren’t back yet. You frowned and turned to Seungcheol.

“You don’t think they just left to eat, right?”

Seungcheol shook his head. “I doubt they did.”

“Gosh, I’m hungry,” you let out a long sigh, a slight pout on your lips.

Seungcheol smiled. “Don’t worry, they’ll be back soon.”

You raised an eyebrow at him. “Why does it feel like you’re trying to coax a child?”

“It’s probably just your imagination,” Seungcheol shrugged.

You narrowed your eyes at Seungcheol’s teasing smile and you scoffed before you spoke again. “Should we look for them?”

“It’s not like we can anyway. We don’t have a car,” Seungcheol pointed out.

You slumped against the couch. “Then what should we do? They’re not even answering the phone!”

“You want to eat some snacks first?” Seungcheol asked, figuring it would be best to stop your hunger before you got angry.

You sat straighter. “I forgot about those!”

You stood quickly and made your way to the kitchen. Seungcheol followed with a slight smile. You were a lot cuter when you didn’t have to be responsible. You grinned at Seungcheol and held up the snacks. “Want some?”

“Sure.”

You looked outside the window and frowned as you pulled open the bag of chips. “It’s raining…do you think that’s why they’re having some trouble getting back?”

“I think it might just be because they lost track of time,” Seungcheol replied reasonably, taking a chip. “They looked extremely excited to go down to play while we were cleaning.”

Your face darkened. “Right, we were stuck doing the cleaning, huh? That’s why we’re the ones that are so hungry right now. All that labor work.”

Seungcheol bit back a smile at your pout. He watched as you shook yourself out of your thoughts and turned back to eating the chips.

“Ah! That’s right! You haven’t called Jeonghan yet, right? We should call him,” you said, waving your hand for Seungcheol to retrieve his phone. “Check up on Ara.”

Seungcheol nodded and went to get his phone. He hadn’t realized it was already this late and it hadn’t even occurred to him to call Ara…a needle of guilt poked at his heart but he couldn’t help but stare at you in wonder. He never forgets about Ara.

When he came back with his phone, you were the one excitedly dialing for Jeonghan. Seungcheol only stared at you peculiarly and when Jeonghan picked up, he saw the scene of you being close to the phone and Seungcheol standing behind you, looking like he was facing an extremely difficult problem.

“Having too much fun, eh? Forgot to call us, huh?” Jeonghan allowed Ara to climb into view and you let out a small squeal at Ara’s chubby face.

“That’s not true! We’ve been starving because our friends aren’t back yet,” you said. “We’ve been too distracted by our hunger. Right, Seungcheol?”

Seungcheol jolted and looked at the phone before nodding earnestly. Even an idiot wouldn’t believe him, but you just smiled at Jeonghan. “See?”

Jeonghan raised an eyebrow at his friend but then directed his attention back to you. As he chatted, he acted as if everything were normal and not out of the ordinary at all but in his heart, he was elated to see Seungcheol so distracted by you. It seemed his hard work was paying off and his scheme was actually working.

You talked to Ara and Jeonghan for quite awhile before the crew came back. And when they did you excitedly rushed over to show them Ara, leaving Seungcheol in the dust. He hadn’t even given permission for them to see his child—why were you in a rush? Instead of feeling irritated though, his heart warmed and he could only smile at you as you gushed about how cute his daughter was.

However, the phone had to be hung up as it was time to start cooking. You complained the entire time as the group was getting food ready. You had been waiting for ages! And they had gone and had ice-cream! Mingyu had crumbled under your glare and had spilled the secret, much to the annoyance of the others. He could only ask for your forgiveness, which you quickly gave because Mingyu had obviously been the one who got dragged into it.

After dinner, the group gathered in the living room and gossiped and chatted as usual. Seungcheol was quiet though, since he wasn’t so familiar with the group. Whenever you looked at him, you would pull him into the conversation and his eyes would light up. Mingyu and them knew this wasn’t just from happiness that you were being considerate…but they didn’t say anything.

When it came time for bed, you went to Seungcheol’s room with the largest smile on your face as you showed him the picture Jeonghan had just sent you.

“When did Jeonghan get your number?” Seungcheol asked with a raised eyebrow. And he mumbled, “And why did he send you this picture of Ara and not to me?”

Hearing the pout in his voice, you could only pat his shoulder. “I got his number awhile ago. And he sent me the pictures because he knew I wouldn’t cry to go home after seeing Ara’s face.”

Seungcheol smiled a little at the sentence but oddly enough, he didn’t feel like crying to go home. Sure, it was weird that he wasn’t beside Ara and Jeonghan was the one next to her but he enjoyed it here. The reason was…unexplainable. He didn’t show these feelings, obviously, and only smiled and nodded as you relayed Jeonghan’s messages about Ara and how she didn’t even need her dad to sleep. What a good child!

You talked to Seungcheol until you were yawning and your eyes were drooping. After a gentle suggestion that you should go to sleep, you nodded and wandered to your room. You could just talk to him again tomorrow.

Seungcheol stared at the door for a long time before he laid back on the bed and then he stared at the ceiling. After, he reached for his phone and tapped Jeonghan’s number. His fingers hovered over the keyboard for a long time before he typed out four words: “I am so screwed.”

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zdbztumble · 5 years

Text

Final Thoughts: KH III (Spoilers)

OK, the nice stuff’s over with.

And, in the spirit of Kingdom Hearts, here’s a menu to unceremoniously dump all the necessary information on you to follow this post:

Rave Zero

A Minor Rant

More Ranting

Botching Backwards and Forwards

But What About Kairi

Build a Better Prequel

Penultima Raving

The Positives

Now then...

Writing critiques like this is usually fun for me. I like thinking about and analyzing narratives, as mental exercise and relaxation, and because I find it helpful as a writer struggling to make fiction my profession. Finding the good and bad in a piece, understanding why something works or doesn’t, and putting myself in the shoes of a writer - particularly one in the middle of an ongoing series - improves my own craft and gives me more empathy and sympathy for creatives who come under fire.

In this case, though, I can’t say that I have much in the way of sympathy or empathy. I cannot understand how any head of story could come up with something like this and decide that it was ready for prime time. I can’t understand how writers brought in to do the actual scripting wouldn’t speak up about its issues. I can’t understand how editors, producers, and executives would sign off on this. And by “this,” I mean the finale of KH III. I haven’t loved the story turns this series has taken since the end of II, and I’ve struggled to make sense of all the convoluted turns the plot has taken, but this - or, to be specific, one moment in particular - is completely beyond my ability to understand, relate to, or tolerate.

Before getting to that one moment, though, there are other issues with this finale. One of those is the problem of paying off too large a cast: it’s almost impossible to do while giving every character a satisfying conclusion. By the time the game comes to its conclusion, most of the characters have either hit dead ends in their arcs, petered out, or been demonstrated to be entirely superfluous to this game’s plot. To wit:

- Maleficent and Pete could have been cut entirely and nothing would have been lost. Cutting them would even improve the pacing of the Olympus world slightly. Their whole goal amounts to nothing but a tease for an item that might become important in a potential future game. Luxord’s quest for a “chest,” presumably the same Black Box, has the same problem, but at least Luxord is a part of the Organization and so has some reason for being in the story.

- Ansem the Wise is ultimately on-hand just to tease more potential future events and characters, in the form of allusions to a mysterious girl who I thought might be Kairi, then thought was Xion, but is apparently some other character never before mentioned (thank you @themattress.) I bought KH III to play and know the story of KH III; if I wanted an extended trailer for a future game that may not even get made, I’d pay for one.

- Those members of the Organization who don’t defect, and who commanded quite a bit of screen time in this game (more than the damn tritagonist did) are virtually unchanged from their previous appearances, still serve as glorified henchmen, and meet largely identical ends. The attempts at pathos with them, particularly with Larxene, ring hollow, and the idea that the recompletion gimmick might let them appear again some day in a new form is...unpleasant.

- Did you really need Ienzo and Vexen both? Take either one of them out, and the other could have cooked up the necessary replicas.

- Axel’s never-seen training with a Keyblade amounts to almost as little as Kairi’s, as he ultimately doesn’t do much but serve as an impetus for the return of Roxas and the defection of Xion. And once those two are back on the scene, they don’t have all that much to do but point their keys at whatever the group needs them to. Their presence takes us over the required number of seven, so they are quite literally unnecessary.

- Vanitas and his quest to assimilate Ven ultimately amounts to nothing, for how important it was in BbS and his continued seeking it here. He becomes just another boss battle, destined to fade away.

- Aside from filling out the full seven, Aqua and Ven don’t get all that much to do in the battle. Terra and Sora do the heavy lifting in getting Terra liberated, and by the end, Eraqus tells Terra to be the one to look out for the group. Not Aqua, the master who spent most of BbS trying to set things to right - Terra, the impulsive quasi-Anakin Skywalker who ended up possessed by the villain.

- Riku and Mickey are the exception to this, as I think carrying them through as Sora’s battle partners in the showdown with the three young Xehanorts, and giving them the bulk of the dialogue in the final cutscenes, gives them a meaningful role to play in the finale.

But since Eraqus has been mentioned...that leads us to the next problem. Because I still don’t understand how Eraqus managed to hide his heart inside of Terra’s (and yes, I have seen the BbS cutscene.) But setting aside the mechanics; the idea that Eraqus has been alive this whole time, that he can stop Xehanort with a gentle talking-to, and extending the metaphor of their chess game in their youth this far, makes everything that happens feel so much smaller. And giving Xehanort - a villain who was made, in looks and personality, more evil from BbS on - is a baffling choice. He isn’t the first villain to have a less-than-convincing redemption in this series, of course. And, were it done better, I might be more tolerant of it. But it isn’t.

And having that about-face brought about by Eraqus lessens Sora’s part in the finale. His brave venture after Xehanort, Donald and Goofy by his side, makes for a nice boss battle. It’s less impressive than the one in KH I IMO, but I do like that Donald and Goofy are with him for nearly the entire thing. The Trinity revival at the end of it is a great touch, though I would’ve preferred some sort of beam struggle to cap it off. But one of Sora’s qualities - one that this game, and DDD, loved to spell out as blatantly as possible - is his ability to reach and connect with people. Outsourcing that to another character, leaving Sora as the brute force in the conflict with Xehanort, leaves him and one of his most defining and positive character traits sidelined at the crucial moment. I grant you that Sora probably isn’t all that well disposed to the man who killed Kairi, but you would think he’d have some function beyond swinging his blade and holding a key.

But in the end, the apocalypse is averted, and Sora leaves his friends behind to try and save Kairi. Cue the closing cutscene, with happy endings aplenty. Mickey, Donald, Goofy, Yen Sid, Chip, and Dale get a warm welcome home in Disney Castle. Terra, Aqua, and Ven get their home back, and Ven gets his little cat thing that he apparently had once. Axel, Roxas, and Xion get their sea salt ice cream again, reunite with Hayner, Pence, and Olette, and it turns out that even Saix is on-hand (because, y’know, that bond he had with Axel was so organic and essential to pay off.) Namine is brought back (according to a recent interview, this is possible because her heart was released from Kairi’s when Kairi was killed), and Riku turns up to take her to a big party on Destiny Islands. With literally everyone on-hand, Donald is the first to notice Sora and Kairi sitting on the paopu tree together, holding hands. Kairi looks up at Sora, smiles, and starts to cry. Sora then fades away, leaving Kairi alone.

Now we’re at that moment.

I was so confused the first time I saw this scene, and watching it in the theater menu a few times didn’t help. Talking with @echidnapower about it helped me puzzle together that Sora must have paid the price for abusing the Power of Waking. It was hard to track those warnings amidst all the other pretentious monologuing and schoolyard taunting that the Organization did, and amidst all the other plot threads in this game - but, fair enough. That was some clear foreshadowing. And, just like with Kairi’s death, I can’t object to the idea out of hand. KH I ended on a shocking bittersweet note, after all. Ending the Xehanort saga, and possibly the series, with the main character failing to heed all warnings and losing his own life while managing to save the person he cares most about, is a bold idea. Pulled off properly, I’d be in tears while writing my review, but I’d be applauding the guts and skill of the creative team.

But is Sora’s quest to find Kairi made into a final stage, or even a cutscene? No. Is his final misuse of the Power of Waking shown? No. Is it even clear whether Kairi reappeared at the same time as Sora, or if she’d been there on the beach with everyone else before he turned up? No. And is any of this, in any way, made a central element of the final scene? No. The possibly permanent death of our protagonist, caused by his final solo quest to save Kairi, is such an afterthought at the end that not a single aspect of the journey to that moment merits any screen time.

And don’t tell me that this might be something covered in the DLC, or that it could be setting up for another game. If they wanted to leave Sora and Kairi’s fate more open-ended, and a potential hook into a future game, they should have been left out of the final scene altogether. The Power of Waking, Sora’s shaky control of it, and its dangers were meant to be relevant to this story. Sora and Kairi’s bond being stretched to the point that one or both of them could permanently die was meant to be a major factor in this story. I’m all for leaving certain things off-screen, open-ended, or open to interpretation, but if anything should merit some degree of resolution within this game itself, to say nothing of a goddamn cutscene, it’s the potentially final fate of our fucking hero.

It feels like such an afterthought that I’m forced to wonder why Sora was ever retained as the protagonist past KH II. One solution to the current crop of issues with Kingdom Hearts, as I’ve already gone into, would have been to simplify; fewer titles between console releases and a much less convoluted story that stayed focused on the actual leads. But it’s almost impossible not to come away from the post-II games feeling that most of the staff’s passion has drifted to other characters and elements. Axel, Roxas, and Xion; Terra, Aqua, and Ven; all the convoluted plotting and betraying and cryptic messages of Organization XIII; and now all this X business; it seems clear that that’s where the focus is now. Square Enix is no stranger to cyclic and anthology series; there was more than enough precedent to retire Sora and friends and continue Kingdom Hearts with new protagonists. Those who enjoy all these elements could have them unadulterated, and those of us who prefer Sora’s story could be content with three great games. Hell, Kingdom Hearts as a whole could’ve been retired at II, with the characters and elements most favored forming the foundation for an original series; the staff still seems jazzed to cross over with Disney, but they’ve become increasingly unable to meaningfully connect those worlds to the larger story, excepting a handful of characters from Disney Castle. An original series wouldn’t have to worry about that.

Instead, an ultimately untenable path was trod, trying to keep all of these things to play, the ultimate price being a final game to the saga that leaves every single storyline feeling less than it could be. Kairi may get the worst of it blow by blow, but I would say that Sora - the protagonist - is the second-worst hit, and that I cannot comprehend as a writer.

When I first got the feeling that something bad might happen to either Sora or Kairi, or both, I was prepared to be sad at the end of this game, but I expected to be sad the same way I was at the end of KH I - in an ultimately positive way, having been sincerely and surprisingly moved by a story I came to love. At the end of KH III, I’m sad in another way entirely; I’m sad because I feel nearly all my enthusiasm for this series evaporated along with Sora. I was planning to buy copies of I, CoM, and II to replace the ones I had to sell years ago; if I end up doing that when I have the money, it’ll be as an effort to get back to what first charmed me about the series.

Hopefully, I can still find that charm there, but I don’t know what would make me excited for future releases. What reason do I have to hope that the flaws of the recent games, culminating in III, will be corrected or even recognized as flaws? The Epilogue and Secret Movie certainly don’t give any hope. For all the talk about III being the finale to the Dark Seeker saga, the convoluted Keyblade War lore it spawned and at least one of its more annoying characters seem set to continue on. The Nameless Star and that girl alluded to by Ansem (who I hope for simplicity's sake are the same person) represent yet another new character shoved into the mix. And the Secret Movie may give some people hope for Sora, but it just left me numb.

I’ll go ahead and predict what the next game of the series, if there is one, will be, based on those two scenes: either the game is ostensibly about what Sora went through to save Kairi, with a retcon pulled to suck Riku into the mix; or, it’s set after the final scene of KH III, with Riku - not Kairi, but Riku - going in search of Sora. Either way, in practice the game’s plot will be taken up by a mess of a plot concerning the Black Box and/or the Book of Prophecies and all that crap from Kingdom Hearts X: Back Cover (a movie I could not bring myself to finish, I was so bored), all the while taking any chance it can get to salvage as much of the aborted Final Fantasy Versus XIII as possible. Kairi will be lucky to get a cameo, the Disney worlds will barely have any relevance, Maleficent will get elbowed off to the sides, and if Sora comes back to life and remains the hero, he’ll still be relegated to a spectator and an afterthought to make room for all the things that the team really cares about.

Cynical, you say? Bitter, perhaps? You’re not wrong. And I’d love for another Kingdom Hearts game to come out and make me eat crow. But for whatever joy Kingdom Hearts III brought me as a game, it’s been a truly painful experience as a story. With no pleasure, I can honestly say that in terms of a failed narrative; in terms of completely missing the mark on where the focus should lie; and in terms of feeling like an almost deliberate insult or dismissal of what made these characters and this series wonderful to begin with; no narrative with the Disney name on it, or perhaps at all, has left me so upset since Maleficent. And for me to be saying that, is saying something.

#critique #commentary #kingdom hearts #kingdom hearts 3 #disney #sora #kairi #z's crits

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