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aquilaofarkham · 3 years

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title: the little death rating: T+ word count: 2,409 summary: Two years after his fight with Death, Trevor’s injuries start catching up to him while Alucard realizes that humans are more fragile than he thought.

For @trevorsmellmont ❤️ Thank you so much for commissioning me!

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There’s a sharp pain pooling beneath his right arm, coursing through his ribcage. Trevor ignores it just as he’s ignored all the other aches, jabs, and stings over the past two years. Two years of building something better, something sustainable to last far longer than its young, admittedly green founders. Countless days, weeks, and months erecting homes, gardens, and pens for those dumb gentle animals who think the entire townscape is their personal pasture. Not another mistake of allowing them to wander aimlessly straight into the castle. As if heifers need to learn how to craft medicine or conduct what’s being referred to as “electricity”.

The work will never be finished. Even on days like this when the sun burns hotter than any circle in hell. A few drops of warm salt-ridden sweat crawl past Trevor’s pressed lips and into his dry mouth. Pain and thick heat were never enough to stop him before—he tells himself this, barely certain of his own supportive thoughts (a new concept taking root in his mind). Take it slow, don’t push yourself, idiot. This cabin made from the earth will get built eventually. Another family will receive their forever home to fill with lots of babies. Old wounds beg to differ as Trevor’s arms begin to weaken, each movement slower than the last, struggling to keep up with Greta’s superior pace. She’s always known her way around a mallet.

Another bead of sweat gets caught in Trevor’s lashes, sparing his eyes from temporary discomfort. Though it wouldn’t have mattered as they’re already past any sort of respite. He looks for distraction but can only see the blurred shapes coming from a huddle of bodies, despite being a short distance from them. He knows it’s only Sypha and Alucard with the village children, which gives Trevor some relief.

There’s more comfort to be felt when he remembers that one of those little monsters is his own, nestled in Sypha’s lap then placed in Alucard’s gentle arms. She has a name far too long for any toddler to pronounce—Elizabeta Belnades Tepes Belmont—so what rolls off her developing tongue instead is simply “Liza”. She’s innocent now but once she leaves this little man-made paradise and ventures into a harsher world, she will take more after her mother and father. Grabbing whatever life offers with both fists, clawing and biting her way through every obstacle until her teeth are reddened with bloody meat. For the time being, they relish Liza’s soft cheeks, wispy hair, and the way she throws herself at whichever adult happens to be in her nearest vicinity. The other children are helping her socialize by playing games and embracing frivolity; a tactic Trevor remembers from his own upbringing, though with less games and even less frivolity.

“Think you can handle one or two more?”

Greta’s voice manages to cut through Trevor’s mental fog. Funny how she asks if he can “think” about anything especially at this suffocating moment. She must have noticed the way his lips curl into a happy doped up grin while observing his family and couldn’t help but inquire. As any close, loved and valued friend would.

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

“What’s wrong with looking a bit further into the future? Now that we all have one.”

“Looking is one thing, but seriously suggesting is something else completely. My… performance in certain areas isn’t as up to snuff as it used to be.”

As Trevor says this, things deteriorate and get a bit fuzzier from his eyesight down to his chest. Out of focus. Painful. He keeps talking, keeps ignoring the inevitable. Always ignoring what his own body screams for.

Greta wrinkles her nose at his statement. “There are children present, Belmont.”

“What? I’m referring to the house. I barely managed to get one wall up while you’re already on the fucking roof.”

“So dramatic. You three really do deserve each other. And you’re still young.”

“On the outside, maybe.”

She laughs at his lie, misinterpreting it as another piece of mild self-deprecatory banter he might never be able to live without. Greta says something else, perhaps her own personal jest to counter his, but Trevor cannot hear. Breath grows heavier, forcing out a raspy “it’s fine. It’s just my chest”. Barely able to tell if Greta actually said anything about his sudden condition. Or rather, not so sudden. No, this has been building over quite some time now. His muscles and bones screaming, begging for relief or death, and end to everything—whichever comes first. Feelings that only worsened over the years.

Trevor loses control over his legs, now practically boneless. The collision between his head and the ground is nothing compared to the inner war over his heart. Whether it will finally succumb. Greta immediately calls for help—he thinks without confidence, once again. Trevor can still hear voices, but not their exact words. Not Sypha when she demands to know what happened. Not Alucard when he begs for him to stay conscious. Not even Liza as she cries for her papa.

Then all the chaos in the world fades into slow darkness.

Alucard stands outside the closed bedchamber door, contemplating how often he’s touched Trevor’s body. Lithe fingertips have memorized every crevice, scar, soft and rough spots alike. Not just as a lover with wandering hands underneath blankets in the dead of night. Or a friend who holds him steady on both feet when he needs it. But as this family’s self-appointed physician.

Perhaps the prince of two worlds took after his father after all. “Polymath” is what Alucard used to describe Dracula and the very same word others have referred to him as, mostly in the realm of medicine. He knows more than anyone, little offence given towards the herb dispensers and leech farmers (only to be polite for his own townsfolk). Thus, through the anxieties and trembling hands, Alucard gave Trevor his diagnosis: heat exhaustion along with a muscle somewhere in his chest that decided to go rogue and strain itself.

The son of Tepes, the only local doctor worth trusting, and arguably the co-leader of their little prospering hamlet paces across the hall like Trevor did the day Liza was born. He’s on the other side of that closed door, resting. Bedridden from heat exhaustion and a fucking pulled muscle. It bothers Alucard. This shouldn’t have happened to someone who stood up to the personification of Death and pissed in his eye. A stupidly common and easily treatable inconvenience to the human body shouldn’t be the end of a fucking Belmont.

It shouldn’t—unless Trevor’s scars have anything to say about it. The ones on the inside and outside. Inside, unseen, and untreatable. There’s a harsh revelation to be found there; one which the prince has been purposefully avoiding up to this moment. Alucard can try as he wants, use the tools left behind by his father and mother as though it were their final death wish, but he might never tend to what pains Trevor on the inside. He’s a Belmont, undeniably so, but Belmonts are human despite the many recurring signs pointing to the contrary. Then there’s Sypha with her magic, but she’s human as well. Greta and Liza are still human. Humans are more susceptible to dying easy, little deaths even when they follow world-saving victories.

Where does this leave Alucard? Thoughts spiral down, down towards darker places the longer he nervously hovers outside the bedroom. He’s been known to awkwardly stumble into deflection, insisting he’s only half human whenever certain someones bring up this topic of necessary conversation. Meaning he might as well not be human at all. Not when the bodies of those he loves change so rapidly while his remains petrified. It’s only been two years, filled to the brim with countless hours he wouldn’t ever want to trade for the entire world. But the thought of one night as they nestle themselves into bed and Alucard touches either Trevor or Sypha’s chest only to feel an anomaly within their hearts. The earliest sign that time and age will eventually betray them as it does for all mortals—it could be the one thing to break him.

Alucard stops himself at the opportune moment, right before he starts thinking about his mother and father. Did Dracula ever contemplate Lisa’s mortality? Was the decision to never turn her easy or the hardest thing he forced upon his unstable, immortal conscience? Arms crossed over his chest like a protective cage, fingernails digging into the fabric of his shirt until it hurts, Alucard swallows a bitter glob of spit and reaches for the doorknob. Sypha will have to accept the fact that he couldn’t wait for her. He quietly thanks her for the lessons she taught him. If he needs to talk about something—truly talk, no sarcastic wit or banter, just the raw emotions—Alucard no longer hesitates. He won’t, not as he enters the room and immediately sees Trevor still in bed, not quite altogether there. At least he can manage a decent smile and wave of his hand.

“Evening.”

“How does your chest feel?”

“Still a bit tight, but I’ve been taking deep breaths like the doctor ordered.”

The amount of strain heard in Trevor’s voice worries Alucard. Hopefully the Belmont has learned something from the recent past, so he won’t be stupid and suggest anything having to do with leaving bed or getting back to work.

“I think I should get up.”

“I think that’s a poor decision.”

“Are you saying that as my physician or because you’re letting that pretty little blonde head of yours get too worked up?”

No. Yes. Both? If only Trevor didn’t look up at him with those glassy eyes (can he still see him?) the colour of stained glass windows erected in cathedrals he felt so unwelcome inside. If only that smile, somehow both soft and shit-eating, wasn’t in place of a more serious expression. Then maybe Alucard could voice his concerns without being accused of acting overbearing—an accusation grounded in solid evidence but he’s not ready to admit that yet. Not out loud.

“Normal, healthy adults do not become bedridden after pulling a small muscle in their chest.”

“Belmonts aren’t normal… or healthy in my case.”

Alucard’s brow furrows. “I want to think you’re healthy—” I need to. “—that you’ll live long enough to see the children of this village have little ones of their own. Liza included.”

“God’s sake, she’s only two years old. You and Greta, always talking about looking one step too far into the future. Let her be a child before adulthood rears its ugly maw.”

“Try not to change the subject.”

Trevor lifts his head off the indent pressed into his sweat drenched pillow. “Alright. Fine. I feel much better. I won’t push myself and give my heart some more time to recover.”

No response coupled with broken eye contact; sure signs of Alucard’s reluctance to accept his rather weak assurance. The Belmont has no other choice.

“Come here. Sit.”

Another moment’s hesitation before Alucard complies. Feeling his weight upon the mattress, Trevor blindly reaches for his wrist until calloused fingers grip cool, unblemished skin.

“Now lie down. No, no. Not like that. Place your head right here.” He pats his chest and with a fleeting amount of guidance, Alucard’s cheek fits perfectly between his breasts. Two hands smooth over the dhampir’s curves before one before one rests on his silk smooth head and the other against the small of his back. Alucard lied about one thing: his own body can change in small yet noticeable ways. Without the need to fight for the lives of others, whether today or tomorrow, sharp edges turn softer. Trevor and Sypha have finally let themselves breathe as well, let go, and enjoy all of life’s pleasures.

“Hear that?” He asks Alucard.

“... It’s slow.”

“Slow and strong like it should be.”

Alucard wishes he could bottle up that heartbeat or place it in a box. Preferably a music box to listen to its soothing melody long after its original body and soul are both eventually gone from this world. Who knows? It might make things hurt a little bit less like when he redrew his parent’s portrait or built a much larger nursery where his own used to be. Not a lot, but Alucard could possibly live with just “a little”.

“Speaking of Greta…” The baritone of Trevor’s voice sends deep vibrations through his broad chest, tickling Alucard’s cheek. “She said something about more children.”

“More orphans joining us?”

“No, even though I know how much you love those damn orphans. She asked if we could handle one or two more.”

“What did you say?”

“I implied that she was taking after Sypha’s influence by being wonderfully insane.”

Alucard chuckles in agreement. That sounds like Greta. “You never know. It might be good for Liza if she has a younger sibling.”

With the sound of Sypha’s well timed arrival, he’s mercifully saved from Trevor’s lengthy speech about how patience is apparently a virtue and tirades about his “performance” or lack thereof. Greta reveals herself shortly afterwards with a still crying Liza in tow. So many bodies gathered around one inebriated individual, here for him and him alone. Trevor’s consoled yet exasperated expression directed at Greta in particular says “isn’t there someone more important you could be helping right now?”

Sypha is the first to voice her gratitude after fussing over her exhausting loved one. “I will never be able to thank you enough, Alucard.”

“I think the bed did most of the heavy lifting, love.”

Trevor is given an affectionate, somewhat caring glare in response but his focus is demanded elsewhere once he suddenly notices Liza jumping onto the bed. She snuggles herself between him and Alucard, wetting their shirts with her tears.

“Easy there, you little monster. Papa’s still a bit tender.” Not that she can understand or care.

There’s an aura of relief felt amongst everyone in the room—less with Alucard who smiles bittersweetly. It’s a truth he knew he had to acknowledge before it tore his heart open. Trevor and Sypha will die one day and he will have to bury them. He’ll bury Greta, he might even bury Liza. Not today thank all the gods, or tomorrow, not for the next few decades if fate is kind enough.

But the day will come. And it will be Alucard’s own little death.

#castlevania #castlevania spoilers #castlevania fanfiction #trevor belmont #alucard #alucard castlevania #sypha belnades #greta danesti #trephacard #trevorcard #my writing #*cvfic

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jaceyneedsabetterusername · 3 years

Text

Hayloft (p.2)

Pairing: Arvin Russell x F!Reader

Summary: Your dad brings home his new coworker, Arvin Russell, telling you that he’ll be living with the two of you for a while. While attempting to keep Arvin from seeing the disfunction of your relationship with your father, the two of you grow closer than you thought. (Inspired by “Hayloft” by Mother Mother, though that’ll really only be one chapter later on so I don’t know if it really counts…)

Warnings: Abuse, drunkenness, misogyny, reader’s mother is dead, decapitating a chicken, reader is kind of emotional in this chapter

Word Count: 4.2k

A/N: My first slow(er) burn fic! Let me know what you think!

Part 1

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Work had passed fairly quickly as it always did when you had the opening shift. It sure sucked having to arrive at five o’clock in the morning but at least you got off earlier and you knew that that way you could grab groceries before your father got home and could yell at you about an empty kitchen again. By two o’clock in the afternoon, you were home again, hopping out of your truck and grabbing as many bags as you could in one go.

The loud sound of metal slamming against metal shook you and you flinched, looking between your door and the frame to see Arvin walking out towards you. It hadn’t occurred to you that his car was even in your driveway. After so many years of having busted broken down old cars sitting there that your dad had been swearing he’d fix for almost ten years, cars in the driveway seemed normal. “Let me give you a hand,” he offered as he got closer, lifting the canvas bags from your hands before you could object.

“Oh!” You exclaimed as you felt the weight suddenly taken off your own arms, “Thank you.” You dove back into the truck to grab the last two bags before slamming it shut with your hips. The two of you began your stroll towards the front door, the dirt driveway kicking up around your feet. “You’re back early.” You noted, looking over at Arvin.

He shrugged, “Yeah, uh, Wallace had me on the early shift today.”

You fumbled with the bags as you tried to unlock the door, kicking it open with your toes when it finally gave in. You walked into your home and Arvin followed, closing the door behind him. “Been here long? I didn’t see you in the driveway.”

“Not too long. I just didn’t want to let myself into your home without nobody there.” Arvin set the bags on the counter next to where you set yours.

You began to unpack the bags and put the groceries in the respective places. Arvin watched off to the side, unsure of how your kitchen was organized so he was worried he’d do more than good if he stepped in. “My daddy got the late shift?”

Arvin shook his head, noticing that his beat up old hat was still on his head despite being indoors and took it off immediately, his tousled brown curls parting messily down the middle. “No, we went in at the same time. He ‘n some buddies said they was goin’ to some bar in town.”

He watched your shoulders fall a little and you sighed, “Figures…. You didn’t go?”

Again, Arvin shook his head, “No. No offense to your daddy but I don’t like to drink the way I get the feelin’ he does.”

You snorted, turning to him with a knowing chuckle, “Let’s just say that I’m sorry in advance for whatever he says or does when he gets home, if he gets home. Sheriff Pike might end up callin’ in the mornin’ tellin’ us to pick him up.” Though it was stated as a joke, Arvin could hear the tragic reality behind your words.

Arvin then noticed the pack of beer bottles that you were pulling out of the bag. As if you could feel his eyes looking at you with worried curiosity, you glanced over at him, noticing the way his eyes flicked between you and the beer in your hands. You offered a sad shrug, “I know what you’re thinkin’ but trust me. Sometimes it’s better to have him drunk and possibly content than sober and angry there’s nothing to drink. Besides, the beer is better than the hard stuff with ‘im.”

“‘M sorry. I didn’t mean to be makin’ faces. Your business is your business,” Arvin backpedalled, giving you an apologetic nod.

You shook your head, “Don’t worry. I know how it looks. I’m sorry you gotta see all of it. I been tryin’ to keep to keep him calm but if you end up stayin’ a while, I’m sure you’ll get to see him at his worse times.”

Arvin chewed his lip as he contemplated whether or not to bring up what had been going through his mind but he had to make sure you were alright. “I-I heard you ‘n your dad talkin’ last night… right after you left my room.”

Your face fell as you realized what he was talking about, “You weren’t s’posed to hear that. I’m sorry.” Shit, this was what you were hoping to avoid.

“Are you alright?”

Gentle. Caring. His tone was something that had been long lost to you in this house and it took the words out of your mouth for a moment. It was embarrassing, the way your heart welled up with… well love wasn’t quite the right word but the warmth of being cared about. Not since after your mother had passed had you heard somebody actually care about how you felt.

You just nodded and gave a forced smile that you could tell was easy to see through but it was the best you could muster. For someone who was able to take so much shit from their father and was able to look the man who would throw things at you and grab you by the hair dead in the eye with nothing but contempt, it was compassion that made you crumble. It had been so unexpected, especially from Arvin, the stranger living in your house.

“Shit, ‘m sorry! I didn’t mean to - I didn’t mean to overstep. I only…” He stammered over his words and at first you were confused until you felt the single hot tear tracing its way down your cheek.

You were quick to wipe it away, shocked at your own uncharacteristic show of vulnerability. You hadn’t realized until now that you had zoned out on the ground while Arvin’s words repeated in your head but now a flash of embarrassment ran through you. “No, no, no. I’m sorry. I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” You sniffled once before giving a small laugh of disbelief. “It’s just… It’s been a long time since anybody asked that.”

You straightened up and ran your hands through your hair, eyes closed as you thought of what else you needed to do. Thankfully, if your dad was at the bar, you had at least another four hours to just you and Arvin, all night if you were lucky, though you seldom were. That was when the feeling of dread set in. Your dad had requested chicken roast for dinner tonight and whether he came home early and only a few beers in or you had to drive him home hungover in the morning, the man would be furious if there weren’t at least reheated leftovers for him. You had to kill Patty and prep her for dinner.

“You okay?” Arvin asked again, though this time it was in reference to the way a heavy look fell over your features. It wasn’t a profound deep question like it was earlier.

Your head wavered from side to side and your lips twisted, “My daddy asked for chicken roast tonight. I gotta go out and fix Patty up.” You tried to put it lightly though it felt anything but. “I’ll be out in the coop. You’re more than welcome to clean up in the shower or do whatever you’d like ‘round the house. The radio is in the livin’ room if you wanna tune into somethin’.”

You pushed yourself off the counter and walked to the door in your kitchen that led out to the backyard but Arvin made a few steps to follow, “Is it alright if I keep you company? It don’t feel right bein’ in your house without you or your daddy here.”

You smiled at the thought of him staying with you and you nodded, continuing out the door, “Sure, c’mon.”

The hen house wasn’t very far from the back door. From there, you could see the several acres of land that your father was wasting. Your grandparents had bought this land in the late 1910’s and had started up a little farm of their own to sell locally, though your father had abandoned the farming portion after they died. It was where your daddy had grown up and then where you had as well. God, how you missed your grandparents. Your grandmother’s soft words of love and kindness but sternness and willingness to swat your butt with a wooden spoon if you got an attitude (though she would yell at your father if he ever tried to discipline you - “Now you leave that poor baby alone!”). Your grandfather had looked like a rough and angry old man from years of hard work but he had the softest heart of anyone you’d ever met. How the two of them had raised your father was beyond you.

When you approached the wired fence and jiggled the lock open, the chickens inside stood surprisingly still. They trusted you. You could see it in their little brown eyes. You were safe and warm and didn’t want to harm them. You came in for the unfertilized eggs they laid and left, oftentimes with some seed and a soft pat or two on the head. Patty, a fat white hen with black specks, walked comfortably around your feet, nuzzling her head against your leg. She was the nicest hen you’d ever had. She trusted you.

God, you were about to cry again. You bent down to pick her up and you held her against your chest, trying to look her in the eye, though it was difficult when she kept jerking it in different directions. “I can’t tell you how sorry I am,” you murmured low. Usually it was your father that would slaughter the hens if he really wanted the meat that badly. You had never done it yourself but he’d made you watch every time so that you knew how if the time ever came. Each time it made you sick to your stomach.

Already, you felt green. The unassuming hen that you had been friendly enough to for her not flip out when you held her was none the wiser that her life was about to end by your hand. You glanced over to the large wood round just ahead and the axe that was leaned up against it.

Your face contorted as you realized how much you disliked the placement. The way your father would slaughter chickens right in front of their friends made your heart break. It was barbaric.

You walked over to Arvin and held Patty out towards him, “Would you mind holdin’ onto her for a second?”

Though visibly confused, he took the chicken from your hands, drawing back when her wings fluttered out at the contact with the new strange man. Arvin watched as you walked towards the large round and tried to push it with all your might. “What’re you doin’?”

“I’m-” you grunted, feeling it slide slowly, inch by inch, “trying to move it where the other chickens can’t see.” You took another moment to use all your force against it before standing up straight and breathing heavily, “I know it sounds dumb cause they’re only chickens but it feels cruel to make ‘em watch, y’know?” You went back to pushing the round and Arvin approached behind you.

From here he could see the blood stains in the wood. It looked as if the blood had been washed off but the wood had been stained crimson regardless. There was also a divot where an axe had clearly been driven down many times over the years, chipping away at the wood.

Arvin’s heart actually warmed a little at your attempt to show mercy and your willingness to go out of your way to spare some chickens’ feelings. It wasn’t something he was sure he’d do himself but when he heard you say it, he realized you had a point. It was cruel to imprison a bunch of animals and then lead them out one by one to be slaughtered in front of everyone, each animal waiting their turn. “Here, take ‘er back. Let me.” Arvin stepped in, handing Patty back over to you and bending down to lift the round onto its side with much effort. The wood had to weigh at least a hundred pounds and had long since settled into the ground where it had been placed when you were a child.

Your eyes widened as you watched his biceps bulge, straining the material of his blue t-shirt. You’d never seen a man with muscles like that before and you found your eyes trailing along his arms, following every popping vein from the tops of his hands, up his forearms, and onto his biceps until they disappeared beneath his shirt. It was something you hadn’t expected to see in him. Arvin looked like a quiet, polite, hardworking young man but you never would have imagined the immaculate muscles he possessed. You found your mind wandering to what other surprises laid in store beneath all those layers he wo-

You needed to calm yourself down. If only he could hear your thoughts, he surely would be furious and disgusted with you. You hadn’t had such impure thoughts since that one time you had been messing around with Jimmy Bates in the backseat of his old car back in your senior year of high school. The two of you didn’t even go all the way but you went far enough and the guilt ate you alive since the two of you were never officially together anyways. He was just the cute boy from high school that you had pined over years that had finally given you the chance right before he shipped off to join the war.

“This alright?” Arvin asked, shaking you from your fantasy, and you snapped back into reality to realize he had rolled the wood round around the side of the coop behind the wooden wall, outside of the other chickens’ views.

You nodded and walked over to him, “That’s perfect. Thank you so much for doin’ that. I know it’s sorta stupid.”

Arvin shook his head, putting his hands on his hips, “If it means somethin’ to you, it ain’t stupid at all. Besides, now that you pointed it out, it was a little barbaric.”

You smiled up at him, one which he returned. How was this boy so damn nice? Was this some cosmic way of the universe finally giving you something good in your life? You’d become so calloused to your father’s harsh words and barked commands that you had forgotten how nice it was to feel cared about and validated. And you barely knew him.

“‘M glad you think so.” You looked down at Patty in your arms and any good feelings you’d had melted to sadness and fear. “You been a good girl, Patty. I know you struggled with layin’ eggs for a while but you were always a good girl. Never bit me once unlike some of them other hens.” You weren’t often very soft and vulnerable but you were about to take something’s life for the first time and you couldn’t help but feel the weight of that on your heart. If this were a life or death situation, you would feel better about it, but it wasn’t. The only reason Patty had to die was because your father would throw a fit if she didn’t.

You carried her to the log and gave her a little kiss on the top of the head, “Please don’t hate me but I understand if you do. Say hi to my momma for me, will you? Tell her I love and miss her.” You set her down and got her in the position you always saw your dad put the other chickens in before he chopped their heads off. Arvin handed you the axe with uncertainty but watched on as you struggled to bring yourself to finish the deed.

You held her down and you could tell by the way she was flailing that she was panicking now. Patty was well aware of what was happening. “I’m sorry!” You choked, tears welling up in your eyes as her panic began to turn into your own panic. How did people do this? Why was this so freaking difficult?

Tossing the axe slightly in your hand, you readjusted the handle and just as you went to swing, Arvin piped up, “I can do it.”

You looked over at him, the afternoon sun reflecting the tears in your eyes and making the color of your irises stand out in tragic beauty. “I-I- Would you really not mind?” You breathed out in relief.

Arvin stepped forward and you handed the axe out to him, “I don’t mind.” You held onto Patty until Arvin could position her just right as well. He had no idea what he was doing - he’d never had to slaughter a chicken before. He had heard that all you had to do was cut their head off though and then he’d heard the rumors of them running around like crazy even after their head hit the ground. How hard could it be?

Once he had the hen pinned down where he wanted her, he looked up to see you chewing on your thumb, brows knitted in discomfort. It wasn’t the first chicken you’d watched get slaughtered but it was far from something you enjoyed observing. Arvin signaled to you with a nod before raising the axe above his head and you shut your eyes tight, flinching at the sound of the old metal head thudding into the old wood.

You had the carcass sitting in the sink while you pulled off the blood soaked feathers, depositing them into the trash bin by the handful. This part was easier for you, something you’d done many times in the past. “Thank you for doin’ that. I’m sorry I’m such a baby.”

Arvin sat at the kitchen table behind you, “You ain’t a baby just cause you don’t like to kill things. I’d say it’s probably rather normal.”

The time was inching closer to four o’clock now and the sun was beginning to hang ever so slightly lower in the sky, the precursor to sunset. It was warm outside and a cool spring breeze blew in through the open window above the sink. You snickered as you pulled another handful of feathers out, “Yeah? That mean you ain’t normal?” You looked over at him with a playful glint in your eye but your smile fell when you saw an uncomfortable look cross his face, almost like he’d seen a ghost.

“I ain’t never said I liked killin’ either.” Arvin attempted to match your joking tone but it was pretty evident there was a weight behind his words.

“Hey, I‘m sorry. I was only jokin’.” A pang of guilt washed over you but it was only that. A joke. You hadn’t imagined teasing him over something like killing a chicken would set him off, especially since he volunteered to do it for you, but apparently you were wrong.

Arvin sniffed and scratched his nose, “I know.” After a moment of awkward silence, he stood, “Let me give you a hand. What do you need done?”

You scanned his face once more to make sure he was really okay but you decided to drop it when you saw his insistent look. You shook your head, “I got it. It ain’t much after I get this all gutted and cleaned.” You picked up the mostly featherless carcass by the wings and plopped it back down into the sink.

“Well ‘m sure there’s vegetables or somethin’ else that goes with it, right? Let me start cuttin’ those up.” His persistence was adorable, making your heart flutter in the most wonderful way. The idea of a man actually being helpful was unknown to you before Arvin. Your life had been filled with your dad’s drunken bossings since you were twelve years old. You couldn’t remember the last time a genuinely kind voice offered you anything more than a smile on the street, not that you took that for granted. Arvin was just different though. Noble and helpful and kind.

“You really don’t have to-”

“Yeah, you keep sayin’ that but I really do want to help. So what can I do to make things easier on you?” He took a few steps closer to you until you felt the beginning of what could have been sparks if he stepped any nearer, like when you hold two magnets a few inches apart and you can feel the energy between them, that hint of attraction, but it’s not quite close enough to pull them together.

The blush in your cheeks at his simple gesture made you break the eye contact with a nervous laugh of retreat, “Okay, fine. If you’re gonna be so insistent,” you drew out with a teasing drawl, “you can cut up veggies. There’s potatoes over there and carrots and zucchini in the fridge.”

Arvin’s lips turned up in a small smile when you finally resigned your stubborn ways and he went off to find the vegetables where you had directed him.

Needless to say, when your father came home from the bar to find you and Arvin talking over a song by the Platters playing on the radio with Arvin cleaning up the dishes while you tossed together the vegetables and the seasoning, he was less than pleased.

“What the hell is going on here?” His slurred speech made your eyes widen in fear. He was supposed to get home later like he always did. But then you found yourself chiding your irresponsibility. Why the hell would you take that chance? You knew better than to let Arvin help out and now you were gonna pay.

Arvin sensed the way you tensed up beside him and watched as you spun around to face your father with haste, “Just finishin’ up dinner now. Should be ready by six so you got more than enough time to take a sho-”

“Why the fuck is he doin’ the dishes?” You father was leaning against the wall, clearly relying on the structure for support. This wasn’t the time to test him, not with Arvin here. It was times like this when he’d start throwing stuff at you.

Before you could say anything, Arvin piped up firmly but respectfully, “I offered, sir. It’s no problem at all.”

Your dad pointed at Arvin, “A man ain’t got no place with his hands in a sink of dishes. You leave that shit to her and she’ll just grab you a beer.” He stumbled over his own feet before catching himself ungracefully.

Arvin’s jaw set tightly and you gripped the countertop with white knuckles behind you. Times like this, you weren’t even sure what to say anymore. No amount of standing up for yourself got you anywhere with him. You never made any headway with your dad’s sexist views on gender roles. It was pointless. The only thing to do was try and work your way to supporting yourself so you could get the hell out of dodge and never look back.

Arvin’s voice surprised you, “A man’s place is helpin’ out the women in his life when they need, not leavin’ ‘em to do all the housework themselves.” You nearly choked on your own tongue at his words. It was a bold statement for a man to make, especially to the head of the house that was being so gracious as to host him free of charge, but he didn’t back down. It appeared like the jab was lost on your drunken father but Arvin continued with a slightly less accusatory comment to diffuse the situation regardless, “I grew up helpin’ my grandma with all the house chores so I really don’t mind at all.”

You watched the way your dad eyed Arvin and then you before scoffing and grumbling incoherently as he shuffled his way into the living room. You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you’d been holding. “I don’t want you gettin’ kicked out ‘cause of me. You didn’t have to say nothin’.”

Arvin glared at where your father had disappeared and nodded, “Yeah, I did. You don’t deserve all the shit he gives you.”

You suddenly found yourself avoiding his eyes and twisting your lips. He was right and you were well aware of that fact. The abuse your dad put you through was uncalled for at best. The fact that Arvin had actually taken the time to not only notice the same fact but acknowledge it and stand up for you was something you never thought you’d hear someone do. It made you uncomfortable. You’d been fighting this battle by yourself for so long that letting somebody even know it was being waged was enough to make you want to sink away. Even so, a part of you wanted to let Arvin keep standing up for you. It made you feel weak after having to stand up for yourself for so long but also validated.

Your eyes flicked up to meet his for only a moment before turning back towards dinner that sat in a roasting pan on the stove, “Thank you.”

______

Taglist:

@thisisparadisemylove

@justapurrcat

#arvin russel imagine #arvin russell x you #Arvin Russell #arvin rus #arvin russell x reader #arvin russel #arvin russel x reader #arvin russel x y/n #tom holland #tom holland imagine #tom holland one shot #The Devil All The Time #tdatt #tdatt imagine #tdatt fics #Hayloft

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pandawriterstuff · 3 years

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Pinehallow Summary & Character List

This is my main WIP, if I'm complaining about characters doing whatever they want, this is them.

Pinehallow Summary-Monty, an eleven year old boy who has spent most of his life traveling from place to place with his in-demand lawyer mother, Irene, is sent to live at his uncle's horse ranch because she thinks he needs roots. Used to nearly everyone but his mother not being around long enough to get to know, Monty is more than a bit uncertain about this. But in scrambling to find his place in a town different to anything he's ever known, he finds friends, both human and animal, makes discoveries, and even manages to foil a plot against Pinehallow Ranch itself.

Character List

Monty (Montgomery) Cade Waller- Main character, 11, white. Monty is curious, bright, and more than a little awkward. He has a tendency to state the obvious, which can be endearing or annoying depending on your perspective. Big vocabulary and grown-up way of speaking because he’s spent more time around grown-ups than other kids. He’s quietly stubborn, particularly when it comes to being told he’s wrong when he knows he’s right. Insecure about socializing and friendships because of constant moving and traveling. Can’t hold a grudge for the life of him, even when he likely should. He likes bugs, birds and turtles, would rather read nonfiction than a story. Fills lonely afternoons with sketching, nature sketching on the ranch.

Irene Waller- Monty’s mother, 36, white. Irene is a powerful corporate lawyer, either full of energy or exhausted, never in between. She loves using words to sway minds and deciphering documents to find exactly what the opposition doesn’t want her to find. Sometimes Irene wishes she was using her skills in more meaningful ways, but also really likes the money, the traveling, and the competition. Has an almost encyclopedic knowledge of show tunes from musicals. She has a hard time letting people get close. Would stab someone for her baby, but knows it’s better to teach him to stab for himself. Only partially joking. Dolly Parton is her hero, and as much as she loves her music, it’s Dolly the business woman and Dolly the philanthropist that she strives to emulate.

Keith Waller- Monty’s uncle, 34, white. Horse Rancher. Keith loves working hard and getting dirty, and if he’s not exhausted at the end of the day he’ll be looking for something else to push him there. Otherwise he gets antsy. Loves animals and absolutely will not tolerate anyone mistreating any of the animals on his ranch-ordinarily he’s very careful of his size and strength, in that situation, all bets are off. Times that by about ten for any of the ‘barn rats’ that help around the ranch for riding lessons/time. Loves romantic comedies and telanovas and doesn’t care who knows it. Keith doesn’t read a lot, it never came easy to him, but if he’s taking a long trip he’ll always check an audio book or two out of the library instead of just relying on the radio.

Juniper - Keith’s goddaughter, 15, white. She has a calm, confident personality with a smile for most everyone she meets. If she doesn’t have a smile for you and it isn’t because her head is in the clouds over a girl, you’ve probably earned her scorn and will be ignored as much as possible. Juniper raises rabbits and it’s taught her patience, and a lot about unfairness when a kit doesn’t make it. She helps out with riding lessons at the ranch in exchange for riding time of her own, and has become a fixture, spending more time there than she does at home, and when she can get away with it, school. Loves sunflowers and her sunflower comforter is probably her most prized possession.

Nell - Caretaker/cook for the ranch house(would cooking lunch for the workers still be a thing on a modern ranch?). 38, white(?). Not about to put up with nonsense. Will make you cookies if she doesn’t have to put up with nonsense. Please. At one point she wanted to be a chef and has a year of culinary school under her belt, but quickly decided the super fast paced and competitive environment wasn’t for her. Anything that was making her hate one of her favorite things that fast could not be good for a person. She intends to live a long, long life and that kind of stress can just walk right out of the door. Loves to go on long walks, often into the hills (BLM land) behind the ranch. (maybe she was taught/took a class on foraging, and teaches Monty to find wild onions and stuff? But this would mean *I* have to learn about foraging in Idaho.) This leads to a contented, if often silent, companionship between her and Monty, who desperately wants to explore/record/sketch everything about the natural world of his new home, particularly the parts that are off limits to him without an adult along.

Ray- Family Friend/Co-Owner of R & M General (designed to feel vintage, but shiny. Bit of a tourist stop now, they decided to lean into it.), 50, Black. He uses his background in chemistry to make amazing looking candies and chocolates, using that to deal with a time he used it in less pleasant ways when he was in the military. He never expected anybody outside of his small town, or maybe the folks at the county fair to make so much fuss over them. This might embarrass him, if he weren’t so delighted. A cheerful man with a dreamer’s heart, a magazine once referred to him as a small town Willy Wonka. He dotes on his wife, often making and gifting her small surprises. An amputee in honor of my Grandpa (missing left leg at the knee, possibly missing one arm as well, but I’m not sure how that would affect candy making.). Has certain parts of his past he just doesn’t talk about.

Mavis- Co-Owner of ____ with Ray, 48, Black. Fierce and kind in equal measures, Mavis believes in protecting what’s hers, and as far as she’s concerned the entire town of (oh my god, it needs a name) is included in that. Mavis is very selective about the battles she fights, but when she chooses one she throws herself in whole-heartedly. On several committees around town, she’d be on more, but then she wouldn’t have enough time to really get into the work of the ones she loves. She knits in her limited free time, often while listening to the news, but sometimes opera. Has started knitting stuffies in the shapes of the more unusual candies Ray makes, it’s silly, but fun, and tourists and the local kids love it. Still head over heels for Ray, even though his often dreaming about things for ages instead of just doing them is also still baffling to her.

Leanna - Juniper’s sort-of girlfriend, 15, Vietnamese. Quiet, a little cynical, but very empathetic. She avoids the news because it’s that or be mad and want to cry all the time-until she hears about something she can’t not research, and goes on a 24 hour google search and learns far more than is probably good for her about a species going extinct due to logging in prohibited areas, or genocide being covered up by claims of violent uprisings. She loves manga and comics. Leanna sometimes tries for a cottagecore* type aesthetic, but mostly thinks it's too much work. She’s starting to worry about what she’s going to do with her future, and people telling her that she’s only 15 and doesn’t have to worry about it yet is NOT HELPING.

*even though cottagecore isn’t a thing in the early-mid 2000s this is maybe/vaguely set in. Shh, let me have this. Anne of Green Gablesesque maybe?

Winnie - Leanna’s mom, 45, Vietnamese. Widow? A little ditzy, but a lot loving. Everyone in town is convinced she’s the stoner type of hippy, but no one minds as she’s someone who truly wants to know how you’re doing when she asks and strangely almost always has very spot on advice. She’s rarely on time anywhere, but that’s because she’ll have stopped to talk, and often to help, whoever she’s run into. Leanna and her bicker over this when she’s late picking her up. Always wears bright colors. Loves Agatha Christie books. Calls everyone, even people 50 years older than her, hon.

Logan - Juniper’s stepdad, 40, white. Kind of a jerk, but most of the jerky things he says are actually jokes that fall flat or have simply gotten old. Tries really hard, like *really* hard, but has a tendency to get annoyed if people don’t appreciate his efforts right away-more in his personal life than professional, possibly because of his profession. A contractor, hard worker, loyal, has worked for the same company since he was twenty even though they don’t often treat him right. Sometimes tries to buy people’s affections. Wants to have better communication with Juniper, but it’s gotten really hard the last few years and he’s never quite sure why.

Candice - Juniper’s Mom, 39, white, works at a nursery that sells seedlings and baby fruit trees, has a cheerful, calm personality, but a lot softer and more lowkey than Juniper’s version. Very house proud, but has a ‘maximalist’ approach to decorating-everything is in its place, but there are places for lots of things. Loves spending time outdoors, but would rather spend it tending her garden than hiking or riding, preferably with a cup of tea by her side. On the weekends, a fruity beer or wine instead. Wants to go on one of those train rides where you get to drink wine, eat canapes and try to solve a mystery, thinks Winnie might be a good candidate for someone to go with her.

Ura - a ‘barn rat’, 12 and a half, white(maybe a Czech immigrant? 2nd generation?) . A cheerful, rough and tumble boy who is always climbing things, and often being told to stop when he gets too high for other people's comfort. Ura is fearless when it comes to physical feats, but has a fear of ‘slimy’ things like worms and frogs. He has a thick layer of pudge and a big appetite, but is athletic and strong enough that anyone bullying him over it would be doing it at their own peril. Not that he’s the type to start fights, or even finish them most of the time. Doesn’t feel he quite fits in with his family, who are all more serious, reserved people. Redwood is his favorite of the horses, and Keith has all but given up on telling him that sitting on the floor of Red’s stall to talk to the horse isn’t exactly safe.

Elliot - Ray and Mavis’s son, Black, 19 and a college student-maybe/probably at U of I. Lives on campus, but comes home at least a couple weekends a month. Has an older car that he and Ray fixed up together, that is his pride and joy. Quiet, with an irreverent sense of humor that he unleashes somewhat at random. Interested in robotics, engines and mechanics and generally has some project he’s working on, a piece of which may or may not be in his pocket. Often has oil, grease, or ink on his hands, either from working on or designing a new project. A bit of an overachiever, he can spread himself thin trying to live up to all his responsibilities at once. He’s best friends with Randy, a friendship his parents want to disapprove of, because the few times Elliot’s gotten into trouble not only was Randy there, but 99% of the time whatever it was is Randy’s idea, but never quite manage too.

Randy - Handyman at the ranch, mixed race Hispanic and white, 21. Technically head handyman, because the old head retired six months ago, and is a little young/inexperienced for the job, but he’s not the type to back away from a challenge and has risen to the occasion beautifully. Loves rock and metal music, and spends a lot of his free weekends at concerts, the ones crammed into little venues and bars where people are practically on top of each other and the beat is so loud and solid it throbs through you, connecting you to everyone even before you hit the mosh pit, are his preference. He’s been working at the ranch since he was 16, and feels like he has a claim on it, not afraid to speak up if he thinks a decision Keith is making isn’t right or that he isn’t taking something important into consideration. Can be a bit wild when he’s not being the responsible one, definitely doesn’t always think before he acts.

Alma - Local artist/worker at R & M’s, Hispanic, 25. Alma is a painter and poet, a confident young woman who’s figured out that half of surviving as an artist is being your own agent/a salesperson as well, and in addition to several shelves at the R & M that hold postcard prints of many of her pieces, both the coffee shop and cafe have some of her larger paintings displayed, and she always has a booth at the Saturday market, though the majority of her sales come from her website. Alma is cheerful, and likes to tease, and growing up the middle child of four brothers, is very able to hold her own in verbal sparring. She’s close with her family, still living with her parents, and while at first her father was dismayed at her choice of career, he now hands out her business card to basically everyone he talks to.

Miriam - Nell’s Mom, white, 71, a little deaf, speaks loudly, partially because of the deafness, partially because she spent too long letting other people push her around and when she hit about 50 decided she was going to be the one talking over people now. She’s earned it. Age has made her more delicate than she likes, bruising and scraping easily, but she’s determined to do most things for herself. Those that are beyond her she has no problem loudly ordering someone else to take care of. Volunteers a lot, often fosters kittens for the local animal shelter. Used to chain smoke, quit when Nell was a teenager because she kept leaving pictures of diseased lungs everywhere. Still uses the candy ones as a substitute.

Places

Unnamed Town- Somewhere in Latah County, Idaho, where there is not already a town in the way. Around 200 years old and has grown and shrunk and grown again, and currently has a population of about 12,000. Having grown out from a traditional mainstreet, _______ no longer has the western style boardwalk seen in old pictures, but it does have a large cluster of local businesses and ‘hot spots’ still along that old main street, a coffee shop, a diner, a combination bookshop and independent library, a hardware store, a bar, a few places I haven’t thought of yet, and of course R & M General. There is a historical barn half a mile or so away from mainstreet that has been converted into a theater/meeting hall/dance hall, and a community center was added onto it in the early 90’s. During the summer there is a farmer’s market on the property every Saturday. The elementary school and junior high are all on one property, several miles out of town, because the majority of families live on farms, ranches or small rural properties rather than in one of the neighborhood clusters in the town itself. The junior high is 7th, 8th and 9th graders, in a newer two story building, and the elementary school is divided into lower and upper elementary with the bracket shaped building basically being cut in half, K-3 on one side and 4-6 on the other. The high school is outside of town on the other side by several miles, and actually serves kids from another town(s) as well. There is also a trailer park with about forty units, not exactly sure where it is yet, but Miriam(Nell’s Mom) lives there. There is also an animal shelter, a vet’s office, a cemetery, and a couple churches, and I’m sure more things to come.

R & M General (working title?)- Ray and Mavis’s store, a general store with a candy focused twist. A vintage Pepsi sign, neon still bright, and a charming green glass juke-box filled with hits from the 1940’s onward grace the front porch of the R & M, along with a long bench that locals are encouraged to use for a spell or to listen to a couple songs, provided they can behave themselves (teenagers arguing over who their favorite member of the rat pack is might be amusing, considering they were already ‘mom and dad’, or at least older brother and sister, music by the time Mavis and Ray were teenagers, but when they get loud it also gets annoying.). The store itself still has the original wooden counter up front and built-in shelves along the walls, but all refinished and polished to a high shine. A mixture of display types going down the middle of the store, barrels and baskets filled with skeins of colorful yarn and cloth or Mavis’s knitted stuffies(and during winter sometimes socks and mittens), other sewing and craft supplies, display racks with local arts, postcards and carvings, sometimes wind up toys made by Elliot, and of course many, many displays of candies and chocolates. They also have a lot of dry goods, and some of the simpler candy types have little instruction booklets and the ingredients it takes to try out making them yourself stocked in the same display, drink coolers, and sometimes have local produce available. Basically, they have a bit of everything, except for building equipment/home repair supplies, and that’s because of the hardware store across the street.

Pinehallow Ranch-A sprawling 100 acre ranch in Latah County, Idaho where the Waller family has been doing something or other with horses for four generations now. Originally it was a horse breeding ranch, but Keith and Irene’s grandfather felt the money was in training horses, and offered boarding as well, and Keith has continued to build that up, offering lessons for a variety of styles, ages, and skill levels. Butting up against BLM land that allows additional grazing and trail riding, the ranch has four pastures, a large corral, a medium sized indoor arena and two horse barns, one for boarded horses and one for the ranch's own stock, and an equipment barn, an old bunkhouse that is mostly used to store feed-though Randy has slept there when in between places, mostly unbeknownst to Keith-and some smaller equipment sheds, placed where they’re needed. The main house is an L-shaped ranch house with a porch that goes around the entire long front of the house with a large herb/kitchen and rock garden arranged around that. There are treed pockets scattered here and there, left alone as the rest of the ranch was developed, but the creek Monty and Juniper sometimes hang out at is on BLM land, as is most of the forested area around the ranch.

Pinehallow Taglist @sleepysera @enchanted-lightning-aes @odysseywritings @thegreatobsesso @writing-is-a-martial-art and @hiitsolivia If anyone else wants to be added just interact with the post :) (My more advanced tumblr knowledge has led me to believe this is better than asking people to reblog/comment to be added, but if I'm wrong just let me know.)

#character list #oc list #someday I'll do a proper series introduction #and an introduction for me #but today is not that day #pinehallow ranch #original writing #I tend to build my world around the characters #backwards I know

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kayluh1915 · 3 years

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Ice Cream Cake

Pairing(s): Pedro Pascal/Female Reader

Words: 3,233

Warnings: None

Pedro (in collaboration with your mother) throws you a party for your birthday, but not for the reason you originally thought.

DISCLAIMER!

So, the beautiful Maggie ( @221bshrlocked ) was talking here on Tumblr about an age gap between reader and Pedro and I am HERE👏🏻FOR👏🏻 IT👏🏻 so expect more of this because she's got me hooked. Blame her... when she gets back from her break! I originally planned for this to be FILTHY, but no matter how many times I tried to work it in, it just didn't fit. So, have some fluff instead! Maybe next time, you filthy whores.

This works as a stand-alone, but I do consider it to be in the same universe as Beautiful People. It isn't necessary in the slightest to read that before this, but it is available if you would like to give it a read.

As always, comments are welcomed and encouraged.

You can also follow me on Twitter if you'd like. My life is boring, but I try.

Enjoy!

Read on AO3

My Masterlist

It’s a warm summer evening. The frogs are croaking, the fireflies are starting to come out, and the crickets are singing as the sun began to dip over the horizon of the mountain. The perfect kind of evening for bonfires, camping, or even some late swimming. All great ways to spend a gorgeous evening. Far better than being pressed up against the glass of the local community center… in your opinion at least. However, for the sweaty fangirls, the chance of even getting a glimpse of your boyfriend was by far the better option.

“Such heathens.” Your mamaw said, rolling her eyes at the crowd outside. “They should show some dignity.”

“You were young too, Mom. Cut’em a break.” You Mom replied, carrying a plate of homemade peanut butter rolls.

“Well, I’d like to think I’d have more respect than to stare and lust over a local's boyfriend on her birthday, famous or not. He ain’t even here yet for cryin’ out loud!” You reached for one of the treats while your Mom was occupied, quickly stuffing it in your mouth. It was just as delicious as always.

“You should call for more security. If they’re like this when the man ain’t even here, I’d hate to see em’ when he does. Someone’s gonna get hurt.” Your Mom thought for a moment, looking back to the crowd outside that had somehow doubled in just that short amount of time alone.

“Yeah, you’re probably right. I’ll get on the phone and let the- Honey, don’t eat all of your aunt Judy’s PB rolls!” Your Mom scolded you once she noticed your stuffed cheeks.

“I dunno what you’re talking about.” You replied, mouth still full.

“It’s the bee’s birthday, Annie. Leave er’lone.”

“Then you can explain to the guests why there’s no rolls left.” The door suddenly opened, the overwhelming chatter from outside piercing the otherwise calm atmosphere of the community center and startling the three of you. You worried for a split second that maybe one of the fangirls had gone rouge and got past the guards or that one of the guests arrived way too early, but it was just your best friend, Emily… thank God.

“Damn, you’d think there was a celebrity nearby or something.” She joked, pointing her thumb back towards the door.

“There isn’t.” Emily’s smirk morphed into pure confusion.

“Whaddya mean? I thought he was supposed to be here around four?”

“Last second table read. Set him back a few hours.” She nodded in understanding, stealing one of the peanut butter rolls from the plate your mom was still carrying. She was about to protest but decided to take the damn treats into the ballroom so they would quit getting swiped in the first place. Even then she had your brother to worry about.

“Well, come on. We gotta go get you all dolled up for your man.” You looked towards the crowd, the mere idea of walking past all of those people green with envy making you nervous. Security guards or not.

“W-we can’t escape out of the back, can we?”

“Nope, they’re lined up back there too. I tired.” You threw your head back with a groan.

“Fuck.”

“There’s security out there, honey. They’ll protect you.” You mamaw said.

“Yeah, c’mon. You don’t wanna start your party in a ratty t-shirt and some jeans, do you?”

Honestly, you didn’t care.

When Pedro asked you what you wanted to do for your 25th birthday, you answered with the what you normally did. Stay home, do nothing, treat yourself to an ice cream cake from Dairy Queen, and maybe have Emily come over.

“When’s the last time you’ve done something special for your birthday?” He’d asked.

‘It’s been years. I’m not the party type and I never have the money to do what I actually want. Even a DQ cake is a decent amount of cash for me.” He paused for a moment, obviously thinking.

“... What have you actually wanted to do?” You immediately knew what he was up to.

“Nope! Don’t even think about it! It’s way too much money. Seriously, a DQ cake at home with you is more than enough.” It wasn’t his idea of spoiling you on your birthday, but he agreed. If that’s really what you wanted, then he’d give it to you. Whether you knew it or not, he’d give you the world if he could.

When you and Pedro visited your mother one weekend, she had asked you the same question. Before you could get out the answer you had given Pedro, she'd already replied with her own.

“You know, you haven’t had a proper party in years. We should throw you one.” You tried again to intervene, but Pedro stepped in.

“I’ll help in any way I can. Mi Abeja deserves something special for her birthday.”

So much for your private DQ cake celebration.

You weren’t ungrateful or anything. In fact, you really didn’t mind it. A day of dancing and good food sounded great and you were thankful to have someone like Pedro that was able to give you that. However, seeing all these people stepping on each other just to get one glimpse of the man you love made you long for that DQ cake.

“Pedro’s tee and jeans are fine.” You answered, Emily clicking her tongue at you and grabbing ahold of your arm. She dragged you towards the door and waved to your Mamaw.

“Be back in about two hours.”

Thankfully, you made it to Emily’s car without a scratch, taking in a huge deep breath once you shut the passenger door.

You wanted to choke her.

____________________

Your hairstylist released the last lock of your hair from the curling wand with a whistle.

“Lookin’ good, cutie! Pedro’s gonna faint when he sees you.” She exclaimed, spinning you around so you could take a look at your freshly styled hair. You cupped the curls framing your face and shook it out a little. Not even you could deny how much you loved being dolled up even if it hadn’t been your idea.

“Thanks, Jo. I love it.”

“You’re welcome, baby.” You got up from the chair and walked over to your couch, picking up the gift box Pedro had given you last week. He’d told you to wear it to your party, but not to open it until then.

“Well, open it! Let’s see what he picked out for you.” Emily exclaimed, obviously more excited about it than you were. Even Jo was peeking over as she got her stuff together.

You pulled the ribbon until it fell slack, placing the box back down on your couch to take the lid off. After fishing through a sea of tissue paper, you finally saw it. A black knee-length dress decorated with beautiful roses and daisies and a pair of black heels that had their own blossom.

“Ooooo! How pretty!” Jo cooed, adorning the dress.

“Man, he has a good eye,” Emily added. “That’s beautiful.” You looked over at her with a crooked eyebrow.

“Did you think he couldn’t match colors or something?”

“No, I’m just saying that men usually suck at stuff like this, but he did great.”

After everything was done, you stepped in front of your full-body mirror to take a look at yourself. You hated to admit it, but you actually looked pretty good. Your hair was curled and framed your face nicely as the dress Pedro had got you hugged your body perfectly. You even liked the heels which was a shock. You hated heels, but he had managed to find a pair that weren’t that tall so your feet wouldn’t hurt. It was a very sweet gesture, but you'd still be taking them off before the night was over.

“Shit!” Emily cursed. “Yeah you’re beautiful bitch, we gotta go. You’re going to be late for your own party!” You got back in her car as fast as possible, the heels slowing you down slightly. Despite that, you managed to make it in time, the security guards redirecting you to the upstairs entrance.

“Pedro’s here and they’ve gone wild. You’ll have to go in where the guests come through. There's more of us up there.” Emily complained mildly about having to park farther than she’d like, but you weren’t really paying much attention to her. Since the guard had told you that your boyfriend was finally here, the only thing you could really focus on was getting to him.

You made your way down the stairs slowly but as fast as possible, trying to avoid using the handrails since the decorators had worked so hard on making them look nice. Suddenly, you heard the crowd gathered outside scream, distracting you from your slow descent. You’re glad they did because at the bottom of the staircase stood the man you couldn’t wait to get to, everything but him going out of focus.

He was wearing a maroon button-down tucked into a pair of black dress pants. The sleeves of his shirt were rolled up, exposing his toned forearms as the black tie sat crooked around his neck. His hair was also slicked back, a few curls defying the gel and coming down to rest on his forehead. His brown eyes were crinkled, his blinding smile causing butterflies to erupt in your stomach almost as much as the trimmed facial hair that framed his jawline.

You continued to make your way down, now using the previously avoided handrails so you could go faster. When you got to the last two steps, he held his hand out for you to take. You gladly did, his calloused hand so large and warm compared to yours. You giggled when the dork pressed a light kiss to your knuckle.

“Are you my Jack for the night?” You teased, earning a snorted laugh from him.

“Nah. Just always wanted to do that. Didn’t think I’d get my chance tonight.” He made sure you came down the last two steps safely, you immediately wrapping your arms around him as soon as your heels touched the tiled floor. You laid your head on his shoulder with a content sigh, Pedro returning the hug as soon as you initiated it, his strong arms holding you tight as he pressed tender kisses to your temple.

“Missed you...” You said quietly, loud enough only for him to hear.

He parted with you ever so slightly to kiss you properly, his lips melding with yours so perfectly that you never wanted to come up for air.

“Alright, alright, break it up you two!” Your dad said, the only thing that saved you from being lost in his lips for the rest of the evening. “C’mon, everyone’s been waitin’ to see ya.” You looked back up at Pedro, smiling wide as soon as you saw that he was staring.

“Stop it.” You laugh. He laughs too, pressing another kiss to the side of your forehead.

“I can’t help it. Mi Abeja looks so pretty tonight.” You reached up to his tie to fix it for him, your eyes focusing on the poorly tied knot that he’d obviously done himself.

“Save it. We have to go greet the family before they blow a gasket.” You said, patting his chest once his tie was finished. He stood next to you and put his hand on the small of your back, gesturing towards the ballroom with his free one.

“Lead the way, honey.”

____________________

The party was well underway by now, the bass of the music thumping hard in your chest as you ate your second piece of birthday cake. It was no DQ ice cream cake, but you couldn’t deny that your aunt Judy could bake.

After the cake was cut, the DJ started playing music, inviting everyone out to the dancefloor. Pedro asked if you wanted to go dance but you turned him down.

“Not yet. I’ll join you once I get my fix on cake.” He nodded, pressing a kiss to your forehead as he left to join your brother and a few of your cousins who were already “cutting the rug” you guessed.

You watched as Pedro loosened up, him and your brother dancing so rediculously that you couldn't help but laugh.

Whether Pedro wanted to believe it or not, he was quickly becoming a Hollywood golden boy. He more than deserved it, but the pressure of it all got to him sometimes and you were ecstatic to see him relaxed for a change.

He’d long discarded his tie, the hair gel barely holding back his curls that started to drape over his eyes that were crinkled up from smiling.

The song they were dancing to ended with one last thud from the bass, the DJ grabbing the mic as soon as it stopped.

“Alright folks, now we’re going to sllooww things down to allow the birthday girl to share a special dance with her love.” You looked up mid-bite of cake, not expecting to be singled out like that.

Pedro walked over to you, offering his hand as the slow song began to play. You quickly swallowed the bite of cake and wiped your mouth off with a napkin, placing your hand in his and allowing him to lead you to the dance floor.

He placed his large hands on your hips, pulling you close and laying his forehead atop of yours as your snaked your arms around his neck. You swayed with him for a bit, the flash of your mom’s camera vaguely registering in your mind, but you didn’t care. It all fades to nothing when you’re with him.

“You’re so beautiful.” He said, his mocha gaze full of adoration when he lifted his head away to look at you.

“You’re not so bad yourself.”

“Even for an old man?” You snickered.

“So nice that any other old man could never compare.” He breathed a laugh through his nose, his crooked smile doing things to you.

You continued to sway to the song, Pedro spinning you around a few times before you settled back into your rhythm. You laid your head on his shoulder after a bit, allowing him to fully take the lead. One of his hands left your hip to come up and hold the back of your head as he pressed gentle pecks atop your head.

“I love you so much.” You smiled on his shoulder, one of your own hands tangling into his dark curls.

“I love you too.”

____________________

Later that night, you and Pedro laid quietly on your bed, his arms tightly wrapped around you as you watched TV together. It was super late and you both were exhausted, but neither of you wanted to sleep. You were quickly losing the battle, however. Your eyes starting to droop as Pedro played with your hair.

“Don’t tell me you’re tapping out already.” He teased, his voice pulling you from the edge.

“M’sorry. S’been a long day.” You felt his chest vibrate with a chuckle, his mustache tickling your cheek as he pressed a kiss to it.

“I had one more gift for you, but I guess it can wait until morning.” Despite how tired you were, you were curious as to what he could have up his sleeve and couldn't resist looking at him over your shoulder.

“What is it?” He laughed.

“Awake now, are we?” He teased, rising up from the sheets with you and getting up. “Wait here. I’ll be right back.”

It took him longer than you expected and he made quite a bit of noise, but it was well worth it.

He watched your eyes light up with happiness as soon as your gaze landed on the piece of DQ ice cream cake he was holding in his right hand, a single lit candle atop of it. He was also holding a blue gift box with a white bow, but you were more focused on the frozen treat at the moment.

“Aww, Pedro…” You cooed as he set the cake down in front of you with a kiss.

“Happy birthday, my sweet Abeja.” You blew the candle out and licked the ice cream off the bottom, setting it aside and digging into the slice. You groaned at the taste, the mattress shifting as Pedro sat back down next to you.

“Good?” You nodded.

“It’s DQ ice cream cake. How could it be bad?” He let you enjoy your treat, your attention suddenly shifting to the gift box he’d sat down. You pointed your fork at it.

“What’s that?” You asked with your mouthful. Pedro looked to the box and picked it up, gesturing for you to take it.

“Why don’t you open it and find out?” You gave him shifty eyes, setting your fork down to take the box out of his hands. You took the bow off and set it aside, lifting the lid off the box quickly. You froze when you saw what was inside.

Laying atop white tissue paper sat your passport and a Mickey Mouse ear hat. You slowly took the hat into your hands, only just now noticing the sticky note that was stuck on the other side. It read:

“To DisneyWorld we will go for your special day, to create memories that will forever stay.”

You didn’t even realize you were crying until Pedro reached up to wipe a tear off of your cheek.

“How… how did yo-”

“I asked your mom. She said that you’ve always wanted to spend your birthday at Disney but never had the money. I knew you wouldn’t go if I told you about it ahead of time, so your Mom and I worked together to throw you a party so you wouldn’t be suspicious.”

There was no way you could accept something this huge from him. It had to cost him a fortune… weeks of his schedule.

“What ab-”

“Shhh.” He shushed. “None of that. You deserve this, Abeja. You work so hard and barely get anything. Please, let me spoil you just this once.” You wanted to turn it down, the guilt of not helping him pay for it eating you up. Though you knew he was under contract with Disney in the first place and more than had enough money to pay for it, you still didn't want him to think that you were trying to mooch.

However, the look of pure nervousness and adoration on his face melted all of that guilt away.

You sat the hat down and reached for him, hugging him tightly as more tears fell down your cheeks.

“...Thank you.” Pedro let out a breath of air you didn’t know he was holding, his arms hugging you back tenfold.

“No amount of money is worth more than this. I promise you that, honey. You’re worth so much more.”

You ended up falling asleep wrapped in his embrace, the day finally catching up with you. Pedro gently laid down, making sure not to wake you as he situated you to lay atop his chest while he laid on his back. You stirred as he pulled the blanket over the both of you, but didn’t rouse any more after that.

He reached over and turned the TV off with the remote and switched off your lamp, pressing a kiss to the top of your head before drifting off right behind you.

#kayla's rambings #pedro pascal #my fanfiction #ice cream cake

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lovelyirony · 4 years

Note

Hi! “If I fail, I’ll fall apart/Maybe it is all a test/because I feel like I’m the worst / so I always act like I’m the best” -Oh No! This is one of my favorite lyrics ever, and I'd really like to see what you bring out of it :) You're amazing, ily! 💞

what if maria had more of an effect on tony’s upbringing than most? howard’s still a dick but make it funny

Tony has known he was probably not the best human on earth ever since he was five and his dad made a bigger deal out of a dead man’s birthday than his own.

At age five, you don’t really know a lot about the world yet. There were about two things that Tony didn’t know that he wishes he did know:

1.) The word “fuck.” It would have helped with a lot of his situations.

2.) The concept of jealousy. He probably could have gone to a child therapist or some shit, he’s not sure if those even existed back then, or if his parents would have even let him go.

(After all, he’s supposed to be their perfect little boy, just the right amount of precocious and the other amount being something like genius or respectability.)

It is actually his mother who takes the reins on his life. Howard has effect, he has huge effects.

Maria is a socialite who absolutely refuses to let her son succumb to Howard’s devil-may-care attitude that he’s so infamous for. Her son is going to be well-mannered, respectable, and know exactly how to treat a lady of high social standing.

This involves training at a young age. Six would be a fine age.

It’s not Howard who sends him to boarding schools, it’s Maria. She ensures that he goes to the finest schools available, most abroad in Europe. She trains him out of the American accent, into something a bit more refined.

He spends summers learning different languages and different skills. He learns how to fence by the time he’s ten, and becomes quite proficient at it.

She quizzes him on established families, up-and-coming families, and never keeps him far from her sight.

Anthony Stark is not going to be a wild-child, she decides.

Anthony isn’t, for the most part. Sure, he usually stays up past what is acceptable for the night to work on some mechanic stuff and uses the word “damn” a bit too much for his mother’s liking, but that’s the reason make-up and apologies were invented.

He follows rules and is known to smile like his mother and enjoy listening to quartets play out in the open air during the summer months. He travels to Europe and participates in various activities and is the talk of many socialites who eagerly await his arrival.

He’s a portrait, holding still for all’s approval, and he’s not quite sure how to move.

That’s troublesome, he thinks.

The problem is this: Anthony Stark doesn’t have any interests outside what is required. He loves working on inventions, and they are necessary for the company to survive, but his father hates any robotic invention he pushes for, and mother thinks that if he tells people he’s rather fond of AC/DC then he’s a plague to society and will be shunned.

(He doesn’t say it to her face but they haven’t shunned Sunset yet, and she’s a whole world of problems, so rock music is the least of their problems.)

There is one thing that he pushes for: university in the United States. He’s been traveling to Europe since he was a child, and he honestly needs to do something for himself.

Maria is not pleased.

“So after I sacrifice so much for you, this is how you repay me?” she asks him over dinner.

He places his fork to the correct side.

“Yes. This is how I am repaying you. By getting a perfectly respectable college degree from a critically-acclaimed university that anyone would be lucky to attend. Not to mention it might reflect badly on Stark Industries if I don’t go to an American college. Do I not trust American institutions to run an American business?”

“You shouldn’t.”

Anthony laughs.

“Mother, they cannot teach me anything that Europe can’t. Let me go to college in the United States. Please.”

“No.”

It takes Howard to convince her, and a.) Howard doesn’t even like Anthony that much, and b.) he also doesn’t like his wife that much.

“He’s going to a damned college here, Maria. We don’t need him to go to any more of that fancy bullshit you call school over there.”

“Fancy bullshit, Howard?! Bullshit?! You mean what has gotten him this far in life and will make him a better man of social standing than you?”

“My god, is social standing all that matters to you? What are your little friends going to do, choke on their silver spoons when they find out that your son is going to an American college?”

Jarvis also convinces her.

“It will be easier to monitor his progress from a shorter distance,” he advises. “And you can visit frequently.”

Anthony gives him a very dirty look. Apparently, he wasn’t supposed to mention that.

Oops.

But, Anthony gets his way. He’s going to MIT, and he has a roommate.

(Okay, so mother doesn’t know that. But he supposes she will if she ever visits. Or maybe not considering if Tony can successfully convince his roommate to “disappear” for at least a day.)

Rhodey does not give a singular shit about high society anything or anyone. Anthony Stark is a name he registers, but doesn’t recognize.

“Anthony’s a mouthful,” he says a week into their cohabitation. “You have a nickname or something?”

“Ah...no? I mean, not yet,” Anthony says.

“How do you feel about Tony?”

“I...I suppose that that is alright.”

“Are you from Europe?”

“No, from New York.”

“Well holy shit, you sure as fuck don’t sound like it.”

Anthony--well, Tony now--learns quite a bit about American schooling and what he’s actually supposed to be doing to pass off as normal.

Rhodey (yeah he got a nickname that ended in ‘y’ too, Tony said he wouldn’t be the only one) takes him to the thrift store and tells him to pick out some clothes.

“...there’s a shirt that’s advertising a restaurant from Montana.”

“And? Does it look hilarious?”

“Is that the point of this?”

“Fashion is supposed to make you like what you’re wearing or like yourself. I swear if you say that those boring black suits make you feel better about yourself, I will be dragging you to any therapist that will take us for at least five dollars.”

“Five dollars?”

“Maybe less if I can negotiate.”

“Hey!”

Tony learns how to have fun. He loves it.

Rhodey makes him go to record stores and find the bargain bin, and they play the warped records and laugh as voices go up and down in pitch. Tony blasts Black Sabbath and Iron Maiden until the RA begs him to go to bed and Rhodey throws all of his pillows off of his bed.

In return, Tony teaches Rhodey how to read other’s facial expressions, dress for any occasion and be the best-looking there, as well as avoiding any sort of conflict by bringing up past embarrassments.

“Are you serious about the color of my shoe affecting my social standing?” Rhodey asks, trying to shove his foot into a shoe that was a brown color that Tony had described as a “golden mahogany.”

“Yes, I’m dead serious.”

“No fucking wonder everyone says eat the rich all of you are so fucking pretentious. It’s brown, Tony.”

“Tell that to any high society woman over fifty.”

“I will.”

As it turns out, he ends up doing it much sooner than anticipated.

Tony’s parents come to visit.

They call him Anthony. Which is gross. Rhodey hasn’t used the name “Anthony” in about six months.

“I wasn’t aware that you were his roommate,” his mother says.

“Well, here I am,” Rhodey says. “Name’s also on the information they sent out to the parents about the living situations.”

Tony tenses as his parents brush off the obvious comment on how little they actually know about his situation and move right into the room.

Maria stops at the huge poster of a rock band.

“I assume that this is...James’?”

“No,” he says timidly. “It’s...it’s mine. Their use of movement on the guitar strings-”

“Take it down,” Maria demands. “It’s unsightly.”

“Oh give the kid a break,” Howard says tiredly. “For once he’s not listening to you talk about the merits of paisley prints.”

“I’m training our son for a more successful life than yours,” Maria hisses. “Of course, you’d have to stay away from your friend Jack to understand that.”

“Rhodey, leave,” Tony says. “Trust me, it gets messier from here.”

He does think about it. How easy it would be to walk out and check in with a couple of his other friends and talk about how crazy Tony’s parents are. How he could check back in near dinner time and then Tony could tell him all about how terribly it went.

But Tony already looks terrible, and he’s doing that weird thing with his hands where he wrings them and then remembers he’s not supposed to wring them and makes it worse.

“No,” Rhodey says. “I am staying until the bitter end. Who knows? Maybe I can give your mom a heart attack when I ask her the difference between kelly and forest green.”

Tony grins.

“You can leave any time, it’s about to get...interesting.”

Tony’s family is quite dysfunctional. They can put on a good front in public, for what it’s worth.

Howard is impressed that Rhodey’s planning on going into the Air Force and then talks about Captain America for a lot of the dinner. Rhodey is very uncomfortable and then asks about business and Maria rolls her eyes and orders another glass of wine.

After Howard finishes up talking about some contract and making vague threats against businesses that Rhodey thinks might actually be in trouble, it’s Maria’s turn.

“So, Rhodey, where is your family from?”

“We live in the Boston area,” Rhodey answers.

“And what do your parents do?”

“Dad works as a consultant for a local construction company, and my mom works as a high school history teacher. They both like their jobs.”

“Hm,” Maria remarks, and it’s so light and casual and yet so cutting. Tony can see how Rhodey squirms, and he can’t just let it stand.

It’s one thing for Maria to cut her own son down until he’s nothing. Still fucked up, but Tony can handle it. He’s been handling it for years.

“Rhodey, how did your mom come to want to know she liked teaching?” Tony asks. “That sounds like it could be really hard to figure out.”

“Oh, well it all started when she was in high school and wanted to change how one of her teachers treated students. It was a really inspiring moment for her.”

“That sounds really cool,” Tony says. “What does she like most about her job?”

“Probably the kids,” Rhodey says.

The conversation carries on about Rhodey’s family until their dinner arrives and his mother manages to cut in with more questions.

“So, what else does your mother do?”

“She volunteers at the local food kitchen and helps some of the younger kids at the after-school program,” Rhodey answers. “She also makes a mean Thanksgiving turkey.”

“Would you look at that,” Tony says. “Mrs. Rhodes sounds like a fine cook, I wish I could say the same for you, mother.”

“Oh?”

Howard actually laughs at that as he signs for the bill.

“The kid is right, Maria. At some points I think your kitchen is only used for decoration.”

“Oh, and you know how to cook, Mr. Stark?” Maria asks, raising her eyebrows. “I’d love to see you make anything other than coffee.”

“I’ll make toast.”

Rhodey laughs, and so does Tony.

“Ready to go?” Tony asks, and part of it is a way to get away from an isolated conversation, and part of it is to make his parents leave for their hotel room sooner.

“Tony, I want to have a talk with you before we retire for the night,” Maria says, and Tony tenses up.

Rhodey can’t protect him from that, and he squeezes Tony’s hand as they walk behind his parents.

“It’ll be okay,” he whispers.

“Maybe,” Tony says. “Maybe.”

Rhodey goes into their building, and Howard waits in the car. He nods to Tony on his way out.

“You’ve...changed,” mother says.

“Well, that’s how humanity goes,” Tony says dryly, looking anywhere but her eyes.

“Rock music? These snappish remarks towards your own mother? I don’t know if this college was such a good idea.”

“It is,” Tony says. “I just...learned new things and incorporated it into my life. Nothing the matter with that.”

“Nothing wrong with that?” Maria reiterates, surprised look on her face. “Rock music is for other people, you know things that others don’t know! You can perform violin and piano, you don’t have to listen to the personal manifestation of a headache!”

“And if I like that headache?!” Tony asks. “If I like something that’s outside of what you approve, why so angry about it? Is it because you finally can’t control every single aspect about my identity? Is it because I’m not like your perfect little toy that you can make walk and talk how you like?”

“You know it’s not that.”

“Isn’t it?” Tony asks. “Because you want me to change every single interest that I’ve found I like by myself. I bet you want me to listen to Bach for fun.”

“I do not want you to change from who you are,” Maria says. “You have eaten at the finest restaurants in the world and now you brag about making something called ramen in a microwave. A microwave?!”

“A surprising amount of families in America have them,” Tony says. “And I’m a college student! I’m supposed to eat crappy food and then laugh about it in twenty years!”

Maria turns red, and her lips screw up into a tight line.

“I don’t think you should be here,” Maria says. “You’re forgetting your place. Your roommate is...”

“My roommate is what,” Tony starts, glaring at her. “My roommate is what, mother? You want to honestly finish that sentence?”

“He’s not good enough!” she yells at him. “You are a Stark!”

Tony stares at her for a moment. And then another moment.

“Leave,” he says. “Get the hell out of here.”

“You don’t tell me-”

“I do,” Tony says, using his full height to his advantage. “You can tell me how many times I’ve fucked up as many times as you want, but you never talk about James that way ever again.”

He twists on his heel, forcefully opening the door to the dormitory and not once looking back.

Rhodey finds Tony back in his room when he gets back from getting ready for the night, and Tony is clutching a pillow and laying face down on the bed.

“You know, you’ll have to turn over eventually to get some fresh air.”

“Leave me to die, Rhodey. Oh my god.”

“That bad?”

“That bad. She’s probably going to try and put me in a prestigious college or some shit.”

“Oof. Wanna fake your death and run away?”

“Please.”

“Well, too bad. I have a test next week, and you need to do your poetry notes.”

“But poetry sucks.”

“It only sucks because you don’t like modern poetry, suck it up and pull it out of your ass or something.”

“Ugh, fine.”

Maria is trying very hard to get her son away from MIT and towards a fancy school in Europe. She doesn’t even care where, just away from his roommate and his classic rock posters and the dormitory. Anthony needs an environment where he can focus on networking, meeting more people.

Howard says no.

He can’t even bother to remember her son’s birthday, and he says “no.”

“We need Anthony to go to an American school, and nothing is better besides maybe Cal Tech, and he’ll have to finish another year of college and Hammer Industries can use that as a sign of an unsteady heir.”

“Well then get rid of his roommate.”

“I’m not doing that, you’re asking for a PR death sentence.”

“He’s a bad influence.”

“No he’s not,” Howard says tiredly. “The kid is finally standing up for himself, and you hate that.”

“I don’t hate that he can be his own person.”

“You just wish he were his own person under your specifications,” Howard drawls. “He’s staying at MIT, that’s final.”

“Hmph.”

Howard rolls his eyes.

“Go back to planning whatever charity gala you’re hosting this week, honey. I’m sure things will be fine.”

Maria doesn’t speak against her husband, just fumes and decides she’s going to try to get Jarvis’ opinion.

Edwin is also a flat no.

“He will not forgive you if you do this,” he says, pouring her tea and adding in one sugar cube. “He loves his school, he talks about it all the time.”

“And what, he calls you?”

Edwin Jarvis realizes he shouldn’t have mentioned this.

“At times, madam. At times. Will that be all?”

“...that will be all.”

Jarvis does bring up a good point. Besides her, of course, he knows Anthony best, even if he does keep calling him Tony. Anthony will grow out of that nickname soon enough.

She has hope for her boy. He will most likely grow out of this silly little phase in life and finally appreciate her lessons.

Tony Stark doesn’t.

Well, he learns her lessons. Can appreciate some of them and how much he hates that he uses them.

But he learns a far more important lesson from Rhodey, and it shapes everything:

“You’re your own person, and you’re far better as your own person,” Rhodey says. “I wanted to kick the shit out of you when we first lived together.”

“You did?”

“Of course I did!” Rhodey explains, gesturing with his coffee mug and getting yet another stain on the pillow. (Laundry again. Ugh.) “You talked like you were from a movie from the forties, it sucked.”

“Oh, you mean the transatlantic accent?”

“It’s pretentious, just ditch it. You’re interesting enough to listen to on your own. I listen to you talk about how much you hate Picasso sculpture, don’t I?”

“You do,” Tony admits.

“So then be yourself. Use what your mom taught you sometimes, but otherwise don’t.”

“You sure?”

“Of course I’m sure, I’m a fucking genius.”

Tony snorts.

“Okay, Mr. ‘I Forgot to Run the Dishes Again.’”

“I already said I was sorry!”

Tony takes Rhodey’s advice into account when he walks into any board room. He wears the worst possible shoes with every single suit, usually uses all sorts of cultural references that fly over the old board members’ heads.

He does things his way. It’s unconventional, it’s unpredictable, and it earns him a reputation.

He’s in an interview in a suit and patterned tie (patterned with tiny robots), and the woman is smiling in a plastic way on the other side.

“Now, a lot of people are saying you’re taking the business world by storm with your unconventional methods and personality. What helped you formulate this, your father?”

“Oh god no,” Tony says, laughing. “He’d probably curse me to hell and back for even wearing this tie. My mother would drag me back down to hell again for this.”

“Then who helped you with this?”

“Rhodey, who else?” Tony asks. “He always gives the best advice, even if I’ll deny that about fifteen minutes later. He really is the reason that I’m who I am today.”

“Seems like a great guy.”

“He is. He always is,” Tony says with a grin. “Except, of course, when he doesn’t fold his laundry, that bastard.”

The interviewer laughs and moves on, but Tony smiles to himself.

He doesn’t have to be the best, he just has to be Rhodey’s. That’s all that matters.

#lovelyirony writes #maria stark #howard stark #tony stark #rhodey #ironhusbands #kind of #i'm hinting at it and i didn't outright rlly say shit but y'all know me so you should know this #anyways tony DOES develop his own personality and rhodey hates him for like three months

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acousticcheeze · 3 years

Text

Here's my 100 questions for my OC thing!

My OC is Laureli, a 6'2 Altmer trying to make his way in Skyrim

1. What do they smell like?

Whatever alchemy ingredient he’s been working with, really. Lavender is what he smells like most often, though.

2. What is their voice like?

A smooth-ish medium pitch Altmer voice that has elements of calm and irritation.

3. What is their biggest motivator?

Helping others through his alchemy. He wants to improve medicine for Skyrim, as well as all of Tamriel.

4. What is their most embarrassing memory?

He had a whole scientific presentation one year that ended up being completely wrong. He got humiliated in front of everyone.

5. How do they deal with/react to pain?

Winces at it, curses, and then gets to treating the problem.

6. What do they like to wear?

Functional clothes that keep him warm and allow him to carry alchemy ingredients in his pockets.

7. Which of their relationships have impacted them most positively?

The relationships with some of the people he’s helped over the years. It gave him a sense of purpose and fulfillment knowing that he could help people, save people.

8. What’s the weirdest thing they’ve ever eaten?

He’s an alchemist...in Skyrim...I’m pretty sure there are a few contenders… (giants toe, large/small antlers, ectoplasm, the list goes on)

9. Describe the way that they sleep.

Normal side sleeper. Prefers to sleep on his left side.

10. What is their favorite food/kind of food?

Horker stew. It’s actually way better than he thought it would be.

11. What do they feel most insecure about?

If what he’s doing is good enough. He has big problems with perfectionism that still persist with him even after leaving Summerset.

12. How do they like to dress?

Robes with an alchemy enchantment and a hood.

13. How do they react to feelings of guilt?

He tries to shake them off, but has panic attacks and whatnot sometimes as a result of them.

14. How do they react to/deal with betrayal?

Is completely shattered by it. He’s dealt with this so many times before, though, so he keeps his cards close to his chest.

15. What is their greatest achievement?

Creating potions that help much more than the average cure disease potion would, as well as all sorts of other concoctions. Also, he’s created a sort of disinfectant and is working on a hand sanitizer.

16. What are they like when they’ve gotten too little sleep?

Cranky, cranky, cranky.

17. What are they like when they’re drunk?

Drunk? Oh no no no no Laureli does not drink (and even if he did he’d be out real quick)

18. What kind of music do they enjoy?

He isn’t really into music, but he enjoys the songs the bard plays at the Bannered Mare.

19. Are they right or left handed?

Right, but is practicing with his left hand too in case something happens to his right.

20. Fears?

Death and failure, mostly.

21. Favorite kind of weather?

As the sun rises and there’s dew all over the grass, the light reflecting through each drop.

22. Favorite color?

The color of eyes. Or, more specifically, the hundreds of little pinpricks of different colors inside of eyes, It’s really quite fascinating.

23. Do they collect anything?

OH YEAH. So many different alchemy ingredients and random stuff to be used in his next works-

24. Do they prefer either hot or cold weather more?

Cold, which is good since he lives in Skyrim.

25. What is their eye color?

Chartreuse (like most Altmer)

26. What is their race/ethnicity?

Altmer

27. Hair color?

White

28. Are they happy where they are currently?

Yup. Breezehome is small, but manageable, and Whiterun is a decent hold to live in.

29. Are they a morning person?

Yes. He gets tired around 9 and can’t stay up past 12.

30. Sunrise or sunset?

Sunrise.

31. Are they more messy or more organized?

Very organized. Again, he’s a perfectionist.

32. Pet peeves?

People touching his things as well as people inserting themselves into his business.

33. Do they own any objects of significant personal importance?

An amulet of Talos a Nord gave him. He hadn’t gotten the chance to learn much about Talos at home, and he found it very interesting talking to the local Nords about their beliefs. That amulet reminds him of his first day in Skyrim, the first day of his new life.

34. Least favorite food?

Taffy treats, or anything with that sort of texture and stickiness that can get stuck to his teeth very easily.

35. Least favorite color?

Very pale green. It looks gross.

36. Least favorite smell?

Death. (Yes, death has a smell)

37. When was the last time they cried?

Recently.

38. Were they with anybody the last time they cried?

No. Oh Auri-el, no no no no. He cries alone and he makes sure of it.

39. Tell us about one of the times they got injured?

Was in a fire when he was younger, he has a burn going up the inner leg on his right leg.

40. Do they have any scars?

Only mental ones. (and the burn scar on his leg)

41. Do they struggle with any mental health issues?

Perfectionism, past abuse, self hate, among others.

42. Do they have any bad habits?

Picking at his nails. He knows it makes them hurt and get bloody, but sometimes he just can’t help it.

43. Why might someone dislike them?

He can be very rude if he’s working, but to be fair, it is really annoying to be bothered in the middle of your work.

44. Why might someone love them?

Who wouldn’t love an overworked science boye? But in all seriousness, if he loves someone, he will be very caring towards them and is also just great listener. Tries not to care any more though because of personal trauma.

45. Do they believe in ghosts?

Yup. He’s heard of people’s encounters with them. Honestly, you’d be stupid to not believe in them.

46. Is there anyone they would trust with their lives?

At this point? No. Farkas later down the line? Yes.

47. Are they romantically interested in anyone?

Farkas, but we ain’t talking about that yet~

48. Are they dating/married to anyone?

49. Do they like surprises?

No. Please do not surprise this poor man he will stagger back and crash into everything.

50. When is their birthday?

9th of Hearthfire (September 9th)

51. How do they usually celebrate their birthday?

He takes a few seconds to acknowledge it and then gets on with his work.

52. Do they have any family?

Yup! A Mom, a Dad, a younger sister, and a male cousin that lives nearby (he’s in the Thalmor and the whole family has very Pro-Thalmor views)

53. Are they close to their family?

HAH- no~

54. What is their MBTI type?

INTJ (Damn this list for making me look up stereotypes for this. Honestly I hate the MBTI system so much-)

55. What is their zodiac sign?

Virgo

56. What Hogwarts House would they be in?

Ravenclaw

57. What D&D alignment are they?

If lawful chaotic good was a thing then yes

58. Do they ever have nightmares? If so, what about?

Yes, but they are often so tangled up that it’s hard to get any real meaning from them.

59. What are their views on death?

“It’s fine, it’s fine, I’ll be fine-” Hopes that he’ll be fine but is really scared about it.

60. What is something that they’re sure to laugh at?

Bad science puns. He will stifle a chuckle before telling you how bad your joke was.

61. When bored, how do they pass time?

This man does not get bored. He will always find something alchemy related to study or look into.

62. Do they enjoy being outside?

Yes. Laureli loves the Skyrim weather (for the most part. Places like Dawnstar and Winterhold suck)

63. Do they have an accent?

Yes. He has the typical Altmer accent.

64. Upon seeing a slice of chocolate cake, what is their first reaction?

“Why is this here? This isn’t mine.”

65. If they knew they were going to die, what would they do/say

He would probably take too long deciding and die before he could do/say anything.

66. How do they feel about sex?

Sex repulsed asexual.

67. What is their sexuality?

GAY

68. Do they become squeamish at the sight of blood?

Nope.

69. Is there anything that they find really gross?

He’s seen so much it would take a lot to surprise him here.

70. Which TV Trope(s) best describes them?

Grumpy scientist with no people skills.

71. Do they enjoy helping people?

Yes, definitely

72. Are they allergic to anything?

Not really. (Lucky)

73. Do they have a pet?

74. Are they quick to anger? What are they like when they loose their temper?

Nope, unless you press his buttons. His anger is pretty much “What in the name of Auri-el is wrong with you?! Don’t touch my equipment!!”

75. How patient are they?

Very...until you hit his limit. Then he gets passive aggressive.

76. Are they good at cooking?

Not really. He can be good at it, he just chose not to learn in favor of working on his projects. Can make enough to live on, though.

77. Favorite insult? Do they insult people often?

He doesn't have a favorite insult (he rarely insults people).

78. How do they act when they’re particularly happy?

Talking fast, pacing, flappy hands.

79. What do they do when they learn about other people’s fears?

Try to avoid bringing those fears up around them and avoiding making fun of them. If their fear is nearby, he will either tell them or take care of it. (which is good because Farkas is scared of spiders)

80. Are they trustworthy?

Yes, but you have to be a very certain kind of person to work with him.

81. Do they try to hide their emotions? Are they good at it?

Sometimes, especially romantic feelings. Romantic attraction? Nope, not possible- (It totally is; he’s in denial)

82. Do they exercise regularly?

With all of the walking he does around various holds, yes.

83. Are they comfortable with the way they look?

Yes. He’s a perfectionist with many things, but has learned to let go a bit more when it comes to his appearance. He still will take ages to get ready, though.

84. What are some physical features that they find attractive on people?

Tattoos, braids, basically everything you’d see on a typical Nord. It’s so different from his home and he’s completely enamored.

85. What kind of personalities do they find attractive?

Himbo nord men. Sweet morons basically.

86. Do they like sweet foods?

Not really. Sweet foods do have their place, but he isn’t wanting to get any cavities, so he tries to limit his sugar. (Especially since Altmer live 200-300 years aprox)

87. What is their age?

52 (~20s for an Altmer)

88. Are they tall or short or somewhere in between?

Tall, but about average for an Altmer

89. Do they wear glasses or contacts?

No, but if he did he would have half-moon spectacles.

90. Do they consider themselves attractive?

Not really. He doesn’t really think anyone is attractive. (Well, except for Nord himbos, but he doesn’t know that until he meets Farkas)

91. What is their sense of humor like?

Practically nonexistent, but when there is humor it’s mostly dry and sardonic.

92. What mood are they most often in?

That sort of focused work mode you get in when you’re really concentrating, as well as somewhat-sociable-but-still-kind-of-tired-and-grumpy

93. What kinds of things anger them?

People messing up his equipment. Oh sweet Auri-el, if you touch his things he will explode. Also, he hates the racism that the Thalmor promote. (He hates racism in general, but he hates the Thalmor’s views the most).

94. Outlook on life?

“It sucks, but I do find quite a bit fascinating and I’ll help where I can.”

95. What kind of things make them sad/depressed?

His perfectionism, how lonely he knows he is, and more.

96. What is their greatest weakness?

Again, his perfectionism, as well as having his work dictate more in his life than he should.

97. What is the greatest strength?

His brain. He remembers small details extremely well, and is practically an encyclopedia when it comes to alchemy.

98. Something that they regret?

How awful he used to be to everyone back home. He got a lot of pushback on his dreams and who he was, so he lashed out. Even though there wasn’t much he could do there, he still regrets hiring his family and wants to try at a relationship again with them (lol good luck).

99. Biggest accomplishment?

How is this different from “Greatest Achievement”?

100. Create your own! (Why is his alchemy so different from the norm?)

Because he’s trying to do something much more along the lines of modern medicine as opposed to just potions.

101. (Bonus!) Why is he in Skyrim?

Because it’s rather lacking in the medicine department compared to the other provinces, so he decided his talents would be best used there. Obviously, his family protested, but he went anyways.

#oc #laureli #skyrim

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secreteddsworldblog · 3 years

Text

Can I Buy You A Drink?

Eduardo x M!reader

You really don't know how you thought going to a bar to drink Diet Cola all alone was a good idea. Though you're not really in the right set of mind to make reasonable choices.

You've recently had a mutual break up from a long term relationship. Years, not petty months, walked out the door. Regardless if you were the one who brought up the conversation when confronting your Ex about the change of mannerism towards you it still hurt. You still felt like the Dumpy.

Even a month now since the night it ended you still felt an overwhelming sense of loss. You're no stranger to the feeling though. You've actually had worse relationships you rather not think about unless you want to go into a fit of sobs between Cola sips.

"Another diet cola please," you had already gone through a few cans but didn't want to stop. It's your favorite drink. Why not indulge in things to make yourself better? You're actually really picky with what you drink. Nothing makes it past your lips unless its water, milk, and Cola.

"You've had enough, sir!" The bartender was in the middle of drying a wet drinking glass with a yellowed white rag.

How dare he deny you, you're a paying customer, and in pain, "I know when to stop!"

From just the right distance away to hear the exchange sat Eduardo who was had been deep in thought about his own moarning. He always considered himself a tough man, the definition of machismo, someone who can't be knocked down.

Many would say he has no right to feel the way he does after how he behaved before the life changing event he had to go through. But sometimes it takes a rude awakening to trigger a well needed over due self reflection and change in character.

Eduardo's head perked up the moment he heard a man ask for another diet cola. Who orders diet cola at a bar? Besides him that is. If someone can enjoy a diet cola enough to drink it everywhere then obviously it's someone with good taste like him.

Temporarily getting out of his own head he got up and reached the counter, " Bartender, I DEMAND you bring a pair of diet colas for my friend and I!"

"FINE, Mr Eduardo," the bartender slammed the glass he was working on down and went to get the cold refreshments firmly holding them out, "But this is all either of you is getting tonight."

"Whatever," Eduardo passed one of the cans over to you, "Cheers!"

You'd be lying if you said you didn't feel a little bit of second AND first hand embaressment. It's not everyday a cute rando just comes up and makes somewhat of a scene for you. You have a feeling he's the kind of guy who calls out underpaid fast food joint employees when they put pickles in his friends bugers when they asked for none.

With the sound of a 'Tink' from cans tapping you lightened up a little. It would do you some good to know new people. Not in a thottie way. You've had to move homes for a fresh start, staying in that house with the memories were only going to make things harder for you to recover from, so you're actually in unknown territory.

"So what's a guy like you doing drinking cola all alone?" Eduardo glaced at you from the corner of his eyes still letting the diet cola can hover next to his lips after the first sip. You didn't know what he meant by 'a guy like you'. Though you weren't the most traditionally masculine looking bloke at the bar compared to him. You wouldn't go as far as calling yourself an E-boy but you're definetly decked out in more of a casual alternative attire. Some would call you a pretty boy, like your Ex before he stopped-

"Probably for the same reason you are?" It was strange to see someone else drinking the same thing alone- Unless this is normal for a guy like him. He didn't look like a traditional loner but weirdos come in all sorts of flavors. You knew that fairly well.

Other broken souls in the bar are getting properly drunk and a man out with the boys would only drink non-alcoholic beverages if he's the designated driver.

"I see... You come here often?" He lowered his drink to have his other arm reach over to scratch the back of his head. Eyes avoiding yours.

"No. I'm fairly new 'round these parts," You paused for a second deciding to say something risky, "Do you want me to come here often?" A little flirting never hurt anyone. It might be too soon to get back on the sattle but you weren't looking for anything serious any time soon nor were you planning to go far while you're still healing. You just miss being who you used to be before devoting yourself to you Ex. Your confidence wasn't always real but you'd love to go back to being the cocky flirts you used to be. Seeing just how many people call fall for you knowing you can have absolutely anyone.

Eduardo seemed to almost spit his drink seeing his subtle attempt at hitting on you be returned. "A-Are you serious?" His eyes widened a little looking at you. He must have been on the market and unsuccesful for quite some time hm? He hadn't been seen in a serious relationship since the one with his own Ex, Laurel.

"Why wouldn't I be?" You flex your classic side smirl and eyebrow raise. You might be a little rusty and you could use some practice in the mirror before trying that on anyone else.

Eduardo seem to have trouble thinking of what to say next only to be saved by his phone ringing, "S'cuse me, I have to take this-". On his phone Mark's icon and name popped up.

Mark had it together and seemed to have taken the loss a lot better than Eduardo. He was the more mature one of the trio and because of that he took it upon himself to look after eduardo remaining roommates with him.

As Eduardo went to a less crowded corner of the bar you checked your own phone.

You had roommates of your own. Some pals who ARE locals of this town. One of them even owns a music shop a few blocks form the bar. You couldn't trust yourself to exist alone after the break up so they were nice enough to let you move in as long as you helped around the store and did you part of house chores.

You scoffed at the text from Kasey the other roommate who has an online business and likes to call himself an 'influencer.'

[Kasey]: Are you still being a lil bitch baby? Where are you? Bill and I are going to lock you out of the house if you stay out late again.

With a roll of your eyes you respond back saying you'll be home in a bit. Even though they were nice enough to take you in the dynamic between the three could be considered playfully rude but tipping too close over the line into toxic. Kasey could say 'Fuck you' and you could say 'Eat my ass' then go out for a movie.

"Sorry about that. My roommate was checking up on me". Eduardo sat back down looking at your face wondering why you looked peeved.

Rent must be terrible in this town. It seemed everyone had a roommate. "That's fine. So were mine. I have to split actually-" You got up slyly putting your coat jacket on waiting to see if the man really was interested in you enough to say anything about seeing you again.

"O-Oh wait. How often are you thinking of coming by this spot?" Eduardo didn't have many people to see when he left home. Aside from a stiff friendship with Tom. Since the incident they've bonded over their hatred for Tord. They took turns doing each other's interests like watching a sporting event when it's Eduardo's turn to pick the activity or going to a concert when it was Tom's night. It would usually end in some fight over bashing each others choices but they always silently made up and made plans for another night.

"Mmmm. I don't know really," it was the truth. Even if you were to say what days you'd potentially show up it wasn't for sure. You'd play hard to get but this could become a good friendship. Someone who isn't calling you slurs, reclaimable between you and your roommates among themselves of course, and someone who might actually like you. "Here, let me save my number in you phone-" You reach out placing you hand on his forarm that held the phone testing to see if he'd flinch or push you away from the gentle touch.

Eduardo felt goosebumps from around you touch. You could have sworn you saw a hint of green blush on his face. No one really touches him besides Mark when he pats Eduardo on the back when he things he needs it. "S-sure".

You glided your hand from where it was to his hands sliding the phone out from his grasp. Your brain did a buffer effect when seeing the person that was his lock screen. A guy with small eyes, light brown hair, and blue button up. Who was this? This better not be some unnamed boyfriend. You didn't take him for a cheater. You still saved your number on his phone but took a mental note not to flirt as much until you know for sure the guy was single. Even if it's just casual the last thing you want to be is a homewrecker.

You handed the phone over back to him, "See ya." Okay, you can spare a wink before walking away from him.

Eduardo sat there confused. That really happened. He really got someone's phone number. He took one last sip from his diet cola before setting down the money to pay for their drinks.

Authors note:

What's up fellow LGBTs. I didn't see any xM!Reader content much less for Eddsworld charas so I took it upon myself to actually provide for any of the other losers who simp for Eduardo. Might do a love triangle down the line tho-

#eddswolrd #eduardo eddsworld #x reader #m!reader

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crimson-ace · 3 years

Text

Basewarming Party

Archive of Our Own Link

It’s been a few months, but here’s another Miraculous Transformers AU story! This time with some backstory.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino were leaving school when they saw three familiar vehicles nearby.

Nino ran over to the green dump truck and got in, planning to play some new songs for Stoneheart.

Alya headed over to the yellow sports car and groaned as Queen Bee told her to not mess up anything inside her.

Adrien got on the red motorcycle and smiled when Ladybug asked how his day was.

The three headed off and separated for a little bit to not draw suspicion as they soon met up on an empty road.

“So we spent the last solar cycle setting up an area of the base for you.” Ladybug explained to Adrien while they drove. “It’s normally used for human liaisons to present top-secret information when they need our help, but Pegasus thinks we did an okay job setting it up.”

Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart soon made it to a road in Fontainebleau Forest and drove to a secret area that led to the location of the Autobot base. After giving their security codes, the three Autobots drove into the base and let the humans out, immediately transforming to their robot modes.

They noticed there was a banner hung up near one of the base’s computers that depicted the faces of Adrien, Alya, and Nino, as well as the Autobot insignia, with something written in an incomprehensible language.

“Uh...what does that say?” Nino asked.

Stoneheart tapped Ladybug’s shoulder lightly. “Ladybug...” He pointed to the banner, causing Ladybug’s optics to widen.

“Oh, scrap!” Ladybug hit her own head in frustration. “I forgot to write that in your language, not mine! Sorry!” She replied. “I meant to write ‘Welcome, Humans!’.”

“You made this?” Adrien was impressed with the level of detail in the banner.

Ladybug nodded. “Uh, yeah. I used to be an artist back on Cybertron. It was more of a hobby I picked up while I was in the Autobot academy. Why don’t you check out what we set up for you?” She added, realizing she was rambling on, and pointed to a staircase for the humans to walk up.

Adrien, Alya, and Nino walked up the stairs and were surprised by what they saw.

There was a couch set up in front of a small television which looked like a model from the mid to late 2000’s, and in between those was a “table” made from a board of wood on top of four cinderblocks. There was also a minifridge nearby, though most of the Autobots didn’t know what the humans ate, and planned to ask them later before getting snacks.

“So? What do you think?” Stoneheart asked as he walked over to the area and looked over them.

“Dude, this place looks awesome!” Nino chimed. “You guys did a great job!”

“I still think we should have put a cage here.” Queen Bee snarked, earning a glare from her fellow Autobots.

“So. what do you guys want to do now?” Alya asked the others.

“Well, earlier today, Stoneheart asked me about what Earth’s greatest warriors are like, so...” Nino took out a Blu-ray player and a container of the original Star Wars trilogy in the same format. “I said I would introduce him to Luke Skywalker.”

So the three humans sat down on the couch with Ladybug, Queen Bee, and Stoneheart sat down behind them to watch the movie. Even though they asked if this was based on Earth’s actual history, the Autobots were surprisingly invested in the film. When Obi-Wan Kenobi was killed by Darth Vader, Stoneheart cried out in despair, surprising everyone.

Apparently, the noise was enough for Pegasus to walk down, wondering why everyone was being so loud. “Can you all please keep all that noise down? I’m busy performing system diagnostics here.”

“Okay, C-3PO, we’ll be quiet.” Ladybug snickered as soon as she finished the sentence. “Did I say it right?” She asked Adrien, who nodded with approval.

Pegasus let out a sigh of frustration at the commotion. “I wasn’t built for this…” He grumbled. “What exactly are you doing anyway?”

“We’re learning about Earth history, obviously.” Queen Bee smirked. “Optimus said we need to familiarize ourselves with the planet.”

Pegasus scoffed. “We came here for a reason other than to watch human entertainment, Queen Bee.”

“Hey, why exactly are you here anyway?” Adrien asked. “I know you guys fought a war over control of your home and its energon, but why did you come all the way to Earth for it?”

Queen Bee smirked. “Well, as Optimus Prime’s second-in-command...”

“You mean acting second-in-command” Pegasus added, earning a glare from the Autobot.

“I, uh... I can explain what happened and how we got here, provided you don’t tell anyone else...” Queen Bee started to explain

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The civil war between Autobots and Decepticons had lasted for a very long time, so both sides were forced to abandon the planet Cybertron to find new sources of energy. For some reason, our ship’s scanners found your planet to have an a lot of raw energon. Like, we've never seen a planet with this much energon before.

Unfortunately, we weren’t the only ones to find out...

"Hull breach on Decks 3 to 5! Shields are also damaged!” Ladybug cried out.

“We’re taking heavy fire, sir! We also just lost one of the thrusters!” Pegasus added.

While the Decepticons had a majority of their resources with them on their ship, which they called the Nemesis to show how friendly they were, it was only the five of us on a much smaller ship not nearly as armed as what the Decepticons had.

After another onslaught of fire from the Nemesis, a majority of our systems were knocked offline.

“Brace for impact!” Optimus ordered as our ship plummeted to Earth. It was a miracle we managed to survive.

We all came back online after about a few of your Earth hours and assessed the situation with our ship.

“Diagnostics say the ship is beyond repair with our current resources.” Pegasus said solemnly. “Some of the computers are still online, but we don’t have a lot of working parts right now.”

“So, now what? What can we do now?” Ladybug seemed to be the most nervous about our predicament. Then again, she had the least amount of experience out of all of us. (Hey!)

“We came to this planet in search of energon, but it seems we have an additional mission now: to protect it from the Decepticons.” Optimus stated. “Is the ship’s probe still online?" After checking the systems, Pegasus nodded, causing Optimus to walk over to one of the ship’s control panels. “Teletraan I, scan the area for local lifeforms. We will take on their appearances to blend in to avoid suspicion from the Decepticons.”

So the ship’s probe flew around for a little bit and not only came back with data on forms we could take, but also an image of an energon mining site the natives had set up.

“Carbon-based lifeforms?” I scoffed at the idea of these inferior lifeforms being able to harvest energon. “Do they even know what they stumbled upon?”

Pegasus continued to browse through the footage and gasped. “I’m detecting Decepticon signals converging near that area. They must have noticed the energon too.”

“Nevertheless, we must scan an alternate mode and try to obtain this energon in a discreet manner before the Decepticons. We must disguise ourselves as what these lifeforms view as vehicles.” Optimus declared as a mechanism on the ship popped up while we all browsed through ideas for possible alternate modes.

Ladybug saw something with two wheels and smiled “Ooh, that looks nice.” she said as the ship’s systems reformatted her so she was able to transform into that.

Stoneheart saw what looked like a green vehicle designed to carry heavy objects. “So is this supposed to be like one of Earth’s more powerful vehicles? Either way, I like it”. Soon, he was reformatted as well.

Pegasus saw a yellow and white vehicle with brown highlights and emergency lights, reminding him of the Rescue Bots on Cybertron. “This seems like a suitable form to take.” He was the next to be reformatted.

(AUTHOR'S NOTE: Okay, I couldn't really find anything like this in brown, but the motorcycle isn't spotted either, so just work with me, alright?)

Optimus chose a large red and blue vehicle with a trailer attached to it without saying anything as he was reformatted.

I on the other hand, had looked through the options for a form to take for a few nanoclicks. Naturally, a bot as beautiful as myself needed an appropriate form. Thankfully, I found something just as interesting, and one of the few good things about this planet. It was one of your Earth cars with a sleek design and yellow paintjob. I stood still as I eagerly waited for the machine to finish reformatting me.

“Remember, we must keep a low profile and only reveal ourselves unless absolutely necessary.” Optimus ordered. “For now… Autobots, transform and roll out!”

With that familiar command, we all transformed into our new vehicle modes (except Pegasus, who stayed to see if anything else on our ship was working) and left for the excavation site the humans had set up.

Granted, it took us a couple of run-ins with some other Earth vehicles to get the hang of this planet’s traffic laws, but we eventually made it to where the energon was. There was also a sign written in your language that said something like “GOPHER-MINT PROPERTY/NO TREE-PASSING”. In hindsight, we really should have familiarized ourselves with the language before we headed out.

It didn’t seem like the Decepticons had attacked yet, although we were in trouble with a different form of opposition.

“This is Officer Raincomprix! Step out of the vehicles right now! You have violated several traffic guidelines, and are now trespassing on government property.” Someone from your planet’s law enforcement had apparently been following us. The strange thing was that he had a human partner who looked much younger than he did, almost like she shared genetic qualities with the man. “I’m going to give you until the count of ten to get out of the vehicles. Wait… where are the drivers? WHY DO NONE OF THESE VEHICLES HAVE DRIVERS?!”

Before we could really say anything, a stray shot from the distance hit the ground, signaling the Decepticons were here. The officer ran back to his car and tried to drive away as the Decepticons made their way to the surface.

“So, Optimus Prime. I see you and your little band of Autobots managed to survive the trip to this planet.” That raspy voice taunting us belonged to only one Decepticon. The very same Cybertronian who started the Decepticon cause behind the civil war that had caused so much suffering across the galaxy for megacycles. The Emperor of Destruction and leader of the Decepticons, Megatron.

“I see you’re trying to maintain cover on this strange planet rather than simply harvesting all the energon the local life forms have managed to discover for us. Typical Autobot weakness.” Megatron smirked as he and his Vehicon troops opened fire on the mining site. “Take the energon, and see if these lifeforms found any more locations with it. If you find nothing, leave no survivors.” He gave that last order with a sadistic grin.

“What should we do?” Ladybug asked nervously.

“Even if it means exposing our cover, these organic lifeforms need help. Autobots, transform!” With that order, we all transformed into our robot modes and activated our weapons. “Autobots, make sure none of the local lifeforms are hurt. Now, split up!”

So we all scattered to engage the Vehicons. I armed my stingers and fired off electrical blasts at some of the Vehicon forces. Of course, the organics were afraid of a superior being like myself, so they ran away like cowards… or maybe that was because another Decepticon was right behind me.

“Reckless as usual, I see.” That stoic voice came from my Decepticon counterpart, the (actual, not acting) (shut up, Pegasus!) second in command of the Decepticons, Malediktator. I slowly turned around and saw he was armed with his signature weapon, a rocket launcher.

“Maybe, but at least I know I’m fighting for the right side.” I quipped as I aimed my stingers at Malediktator.

Malediktator began to open fire, shooting several heat-seeking rockets at me. I tried to blast some of them, but there were some rockets that still managed to hit their target. I was knocked to the ground and struggled to get up.

Malediktator was going to fire again, but he was hit in the head by Ladybug’s “weapon”, her yo-yo, causing Malediktator’s weapon to misfire. It was probably the only time she actually helped out in a fight before. (I’m standing right here, Queen Bee!)

One of the stray missiles went towards the human law enforcement and his genetic experiment in the distance, until Optimus ran over and covered the two, taking the hit in the process. I think they talked a little, but my auditory processors couldn’t pick up their conversation.

Ladybug and I kept fighting to disarm Malediktator, but even though it was two on one, he still managed to overwhelm us. We tried our best, but it was really hard to keep up with the second in command of the Decepticons. While we were fighting, I noticed Optimus fighting Megatron one on one, but it was hard to make out who was winning.

Malediktator knocked both me and Ladybug to the ground and took aim at us with his rocket launcher. He was about to open fire when we all heard a crash to the ground. We turned around and saw Megatron slowly getting up after presumably losing to Optimus.

“If you are to harm the humans, Megatron, know that I will do everything in my power to stop you.” Optimus said, raising his ion blaster and pointing it at Megatron.

Megatron simply laughed in response. “Very well. If you’re so determined to protect this pitiful race, I’ll let you have this victory. But be warned, the next time we meet, I won’t have such mercy.” He stated grimly as a ground bridge appeared behind him. “Malediktator! We’re leaving. You can scrap those two another time.” He said as he turned around and walked into the portal with the remaining Vehicons.

Malediktator lowered his weapon and nodded. “Yes, Lord Megatron.” He said before walking away into the ground bridge. I tried to blast him, but Optimus raised his arm, silently ordering everyone to stand down.

As soon as Malediktator entered the ground bridge, the portal closed.

We all got up and collected ourselves as the humans swarmed around us. Strangely, the law enforcement unit and his experiment were the closest to Optimus. It was like everyone was afraid of us except those two.

“Did you really mean what you said back there? That you’d protect us?” The law enforcement unit asked.

Optimus leaned down so he could look the human in whatever optics were for him. “Of course. Freedom is the right of all sentient beings.”

The unit was amazed by how serious Optimus sounded. “Is there anything we can do to hel--what am I doing? W-Who’s the highest ranking officer here?” Another human ran up, calling himself a “Colonel”, or something along those lines. He said he would talk to his superior about what happened.

After a mega-cycle or two, some vehicles I assumed belonged to this planet’s government arrived. One man came out, who was referred to as the “Prime Minister”. I didn’t really see what made him a Prime and I certainly didn’t know Earth had their own Primes, but everyone still listened to him.

“So, from what I’ve heard you’re at war and have come to our planet.” The Minister said. “What exactly are these ‘Decepticons’ you’re fighting after?”

“They are after a powerful source of energy and the lifeblood of our kind, energon. Your planet seems to have an abundance of it for some reason.” Optimus explained.

“And your ship crashed so now you need a new base of operations?” The Minister asked, earning a nod from Optimus.

“That is all that I ask for.” Optimus replied. “You kind need not interfere in this war. Even depleted of their resources, the Decepticons could lay waste to your planet if you aggravate them enough.”

This made the Minister sigh. “We can have some of our best men work on helping you construct a new base. Other than that, we’ll try and let you fight this war as long as you keep it a secret. If things heat up, we inform the United Nations about these... Decepticons. We’ll also expect status reports from you to make sure things are okay.”

Optimus nodded and stuck out his hand. “Understood.” He extended it to shake the human’s hand, but because the human was so small, he could only shake Optimus’ finger.

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

“But yeah, after a few orbital cycles, the humans helped us set up this base in the forest, and we keep in contact with them through a liaison.” Queen Bee said, finishing her story.

“Wow...” Adrien was impressed by everything Queen Bee had told about their journey to Earth. “And you really can’t get back?”

“Not unless we fix our ship or create a working space bridge.” Pegasus sighed.

“Oh...” Adrien felt bad for all the Autobots. “I’m so sorry...”

“You have no need to apologize.” Everyone turned around to see Optimus Prime entering the room. “Although we were forced to abandon Cybertron, Earth is not a prison. We are more than willing to protect any world from the Decepticons.”

“R-Really?” Adrien asked, earning a nod from Optimus. “Are you sure we can’t do anything else to help you get used to the planet?”

“Can we, Optimus?” Ladybug got up and asked. “It’s a good learning experience.”

Queen Bee got up next to her. “Ladybug has a point. Learning about Earth culture can help us better understand these strange organic lifeforms”

Optimus took a few moments to think about it and smiled in response. “Very well. Maybe this can be the humans’ way of repaying us for protecting them.” He said, making them all cheer.

“This is so lit!” Nino cried out, which only confused Stoneheart.

“What does ‘lit’ mean?” Stoneheart asked.

Ladybug shrugged. “I don’t know. Maybe it has something to do with lighting things on fire?”

“Maybe we can teach you all about memes first! That’ll be fun!” Alya suggested. “Ooh! Let’s teach them about Rickrolling!” She took out her phone and started to look something up.

Queen Bee rolled her optics. “This isn’t what I meant when I said I wanted to know about Earth culture.”

“And now you know how I fe--” Before Pegasus could finish his sarcastic comment, they were all interrupted by a song playing on Alya’s phone that all three humans were dancing to.

We’re no strangers to loooooooove~

You know the rules, and so do I!

“Welcome to Earth!” Alya and Nino cried out to the music while they kept dancing

Optimus sighed. He had a feeling he really should have put more consideration into letting the humans educate the Autobots.

Never gonna give you up, never gonna let you down!

Never gonna run around and desert you...

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ibijau · 3 years

Text

chap 2 of the modern xisangyao, also on AO3

Against his better judgement, Meng Yao finds himself quite charmed by the too handsome researcher who wants to meet his employer

Mister Shanzi will be unhappy when he discovers that Meng Yao has agreed to meet with a researcher without first consulting him, but he is simply too curious. It is so odd for anyone to be so interested in that obscure painter, and so desperate to see more of his work. Of course, Mister Shanzi himself holds a clear interest in Nie Huaisang, one that he has unwillingly transmitted to Meng Yao… But mister Shanzi is an odd man, and ordinary people cannot be compared to him.

For this reason, Meng Yao's first instinct upon being contacted by Lan Xichen had been suspicion. Mister Shanzi has his enemies, as Meng Yao knows well, and they try to act clever sometimes.

His second instinct, after a quick internet search, had been amusement. Surely nobody expected him to believe that this man, handsome enough to play the lead in a drama, was a mere university teacher.

A more thorough search had confirmed it though. Meng Yao knew enough about running a con to spot modified photos and fake credentials, and he had found none of that. Digging further, Lan Xichen appeared in the background of photos and was referenced here and there on relatives' social media, with no incoherence to the presentation he'd given in his email.

So Meng Yao had found himself intrigued, and offered to meet and chat.

A decision he half regrets now, because somehow, Lan Xichen is even more handsome in person. He is, in fact, the single most beautiful person that Meng Yao has seen in his life, easily outranking mister Shanzi who had reigned there supreme since the day Meng Yao met him during a con gone wrong.

"I am so glad you offered to meet me," Lan Xichen says with a warm smile. "I am really sorry that I was so insistent, but it is so rare for several of Nie Huaisang’s works to be in a single place."

“I understand,” Meng Yao replies, trying to match the warmth of that smile when he can’t help being a little dazzled by that handsome stranger. “Though at the moment, my employer is a little wary of showing any of those paintings in his possession until he has inspected them all again. It is very embarrassing that several fakes fooled him, and mister Shanzi wants to restore his reputation. He is still getting used to modern technology, and how much it has changed the art market in recent decades.”

Mostly, mister Shanzi complains a lot on the matter, and keeps saying he’s going to have to change career soon. Apparently, back in the days, it was much easier to sell a decent fake as long as you also sold enough real things. But now with age testing of the paper and analysis of the ink, it’s nearly impossible to do a good enough job.

Of course mister Shanzi could quite easily make as much money only selling legitimate art, he has the connections, the collection, and impeccable taste. So Meng Yao suspects it’s not just about money, and more about the twisted joy of deceiving others. He can't fault him for that.

“Yes, that makes sense,” Lan Xichen sighs. “I was fooled as well, so I understand the feeling. It’s so disappointing, but not unexpected. Nie Huaisang attracts forgers like no other artists.”

Meng Yao nods sympathetically. He’s heard mister Shanzi boast that well over half of Nie Huaisang’s paintings in circulation are copies he made himself, and perfectly undetectable unless one runs those ‘damn new tests’ on them.

“If I may be so bold, why the interest in that particular painter?” Meng Yao asks. “Surely you could have found someone less complicated to study.”

Rather than to answer immediately, Lan Xichen considers the question. He takes a sip of tea with more elegance than this café deserves, and Meng Yao is struck once more with the idea that this man should be acting in drama, not writing essays nobody will ever read. It’s easy to imagine Lan Xichen playing the role of a noble prince, or even a god.

“He’s just a fascinating character I suppose,” Lan Xichen says at last. “Outside of his art, we know so little about him. We don’t even know his real name.”

“What?”

Lan Xichen smiles, clearly very pleased to have gotten that reaction.

“He wasn’t born Nie Huaisang,” he explains. “That’s only his courtesy name. You see, he belonged to that… well, they called themselves a sect, though at the end of the day they were closer to nobility, with the same inheritance problems and power struggles. Still, Qinghe Nie held a number of beliefs, and one of them was that the birth name of its members had to be kept a complete secret… and Nie Huaisang is among those who succeeded at obeying that rule. So we don’t know his name, we don’t know his date of birth, and we don’t know how he died or when.”

“Is there anything that is known about him?” Meng Yao teases, more endeared and intrigued than he would care to admit.

Lan Xichen must notice, because he smiles again, as if delighted to have found someone willing to listen to his impromptu lecture.

“We know he was raised by his brother because their father died when they were young,” Lan Xichen says. “Well, half-brother. Nie Huaisang was the child of a concubine, or even of a servant. His father recognised him, but his legitimacy was called in question a few times. We know he survived a local insurrection nicknamed the Sunshot Campaign, though it’s unclear if he was old enough to have taken part in any fighting. His brother did though, with great success, but died without heirs a few years later and Nie Huaisang found himself in charge of a fief.”

He pauses there, his expression turning sadder, as if he were talking of a personal friend rather than a long dead man. Meng Yao finds it ridiculous and a little endearing.

“A few anecdotes from the lives of contemporaries tell us that he must have had a rough time at first,” Lan Xichen continues, “and he was suspected for a while of being implicated in the murder of the head of the Jin clan, but nothing ever came out of that. He’s just thirty at that point, still fairly young, and he lives on for another fifty, maybe sixty years… and we don’t know anything about what he does during that time. Nobody really talks about Qinghe Nie again until his successor rises to power and brings the clan back into the political sphere. Nie Huaisang’s life is a mystery. What little we think we know comes from the few poems he left, and whatever clues we can gather from his numerous paintings. Isn’t that fascinating?”

What’s fascinating, Meng Yao thinks, is the way Lan Xichen’s eyes light up when talking about something he’s passionate about. If it’s an act, then it’s an excellent one… but Meng Yao finds himself hoping that it’s sincere, that Lan Xichen really is just an odd man who is apparently half in love with a painter who died a millennium and a half ago.

There is no way that mister Shanzi would ever let anyone see his private collection. Even Meng Yao is barely allowed to go to his employer’s house, to avoid attracting attention to the place. Lan Xichen’s request is never going to be granted.

But it has been a long while since Meng Yao has been so intrigued by someone, not since first meeting mister Shanzi in fact. And mister Shanzi, in spite of the mutual attraction that Meng Yao knows to be there, has made it quite clear that he isn’t interested in anything but a professional relationship. Meng Yao has satisfied himself with that so far, because his life really is pretty good as it currently is, but Lan Xichen changes that. Surely there’s no harm in pretending that there’s a chance he might get to see the painting, at least until Meng Yao can decide if that too handsome man is trustworthy or not, dateworthy or not…

“It does sound interesting,” Meng Yao admits. “I’m sure mister Shanzi would…”

His phone starts vibrating, interrupting him. Meng Yao can’t help a slight frown, which turns to a deeper one when he sees the message he’s just received.

“Well, I have to go,” he sighs. “I’m really sorry. But… mister Lan, if I may be so bold, would you agree to exchanging numbers? That way we can continue talking about this more easily.”

“Yes, of course,” Lan Xichen replies. There is a trace of pink on his cheeks as he takes out his own phone, which Meng Yao finds both very fetching and rather encouraging.

He’ll have to be careful, this could be a trap, Lan Xichen might be an excellent actor, part of a team skilled enough to have fooled Meng Yao, but… but he might not be, too, and it would be a shame to miss this chance.

After having exchanged numbers and promised to be in touch soon, Meng Yao quickly heads home. He lives on the edges of the city, in a building that already looked ancient when he was a kid. Today’s a good day, because the lift is, in fact, actually working for once.

Upon getting to his floor, Meng Yao goes to knock on the door next to his. It opens nearly immediately.

“Meng Yao, you’re saving my life,” the young woman who lives there greets him. “I’m really sorry, I’ve tried everyone else, but I’ve been called in for an extra shift and I need the money so bad, I’ve had to buy her new shoes this month, and…”

“It’s fine, I don’t mind at all.”

His neighbour thanks him again, and rushes inside. She’s back quickly, her daughter in her arms. The child nearly throws herself at Meng Yao, and her mother runs off to work, leaving them alone.

“Well, Beastie, it’s just you and me,” Meng Yao says, walking to his door. “What are we going to do tonight?”

“Watch fighting movies! Eat candies!”

“And what will we tell mama we did?”

“Watch documentaries and eat greens and I went to bed and I was good!” The little girl roars.

Meng Yao laughs, and puts her down while he unlocks his door. Beastie runs inside to check the tv, while Meng Yao makes sure they actually have something to eat. He tries to keep his fridge full and his cabinet fuller, especially since Beastie has become a regular at his place. Her mother is a hard working girl who, like Meng Yao’s mother, got pregnant too young from a man who didn’t stick around. He used to babysit Beastie for extra cash before meeting mister Shanzi, and for some reason he never really stopped, even if he refuses to take money for it now. He just likes Beastie and her mom, and he remembers how much his own mother used to rely on neighbours too, whenever things became rough.

As Beastie and him settle down for the night, ready to watch one of those cheesy, over the top old kung-fu movies that they both love, Meng Yao gets a text from Lan Xichen, thanking him again for meeting him. After only the briefest of hesitations, Meng Yao quickly answers that he’s sorry he had to leave so fast, because he loved chatting with Lan Xichen. This prompts another text from the handsome teacher, to which Meng Yao replies as well.

His phone doesn’t stop buzzing all nigh, and Meng Yao doesn't stop smiling.

In the days and weeks that follow, Meng Yao and Lan Xichen manage to meet in person a few more times, and text nearly constantly. At their second meeting they’re still pretending that this is only about Lan Xichen’s research, but by the third one they start openly chatting about other things.

Lan Xichen is very open about his life, and everything he says fits with what Meng Yao had found during his initial investigation. He has a little brother nearly fifteen years younger than him who lives with him, he enjoys teaching and researching equally, he has a pet rabbit called Liebing he dotes on, he can’t handle spice at all, he has, in fact, been asked more than once if he was interested in a modelling or acting career but always refused because academia is his calling.

Meng Yao is more careful with the information he shares. He admits to having worked for mister Shanzi for nearly five years, but doesn’t elaborate on how they meet because that's not a story for honest people. He confesses he didn’t have any particular interest in art until taking the job, though he has tried to educate himself on the subject since then (Lan Xichen offers to go to a museum together someday, and to his own surprise, Meng Yao agrees). He doesn’t have pets, but he does have Beastie and he’s pretty sure that counts.

The way Lan Xichen’s eyes go soft over that… it does things to Meng Yao’s poor heart.

As does almost everything Lan Xichen does or says, in fact.

Meng Yao is half appalled at himself for how fast he’s falling for Lan Xichen. He tries to resist it, tries to be reasonable, but Lan Xichen just has to smile the right way, and Meng Yao’s heart flutters in his chest. He feels like a teenager with a crush.

He starts thinking like one, too.

Ever since meeting mister Shanzi, Meng Yao has been loyal to his employer. There is something about the man that demands it, and though he has never made threats of any sorts, Meng Yao can feel that mister Shanzi is not a man who takes kindly to betrayal.

And yet, it would be so easy to arrange for Lan Xichen to come to mister Shanzi’s home without his knowledge. Meng Yao is in charge of his employer’s schedule, so he knows where he is at any given time. He also has the keys to that isolated house in the middle of nowhere. It would be so easy, and Meng Yao has never been too good at resisting temptation.

At this point, he knows that if he tells Lan Xichen he won't see the paintings, the other man will be disappointed but will ask if they can keep seeing each other anyway. This isn't about finding a way to keep his attention: Meng Yao knows he has it already.

It's about Meng Yao guessing how happy Lan Xichen will be to see those paintings, and deciding surely that's worth the risk.

That’s how Meng Yao and Lan Xichen find themselves in a car one day, heading out of the city together. Meng Yao feels his skin buzzing with nerves, though every time he takes his eyes from the road to glance at Lan Xichen and finds him glowing and as excited as a child, he knows it was the right choice. It takes them a few hours to get to the house, which they spend chatting about a number of things. About midway through the trip, when they take a break, Meng Yao announces that due to a last minute problem, mister Shanzi won’t be able to meet them at the house, but welcomes them to check the paintings without him. Lan Xichen is of course disappointed and offers to try again another time, but Meng Yao convinces him it’s more convenient to go that day.

The house, hidden in a bamboo forest, takes Lan Xichen’s breath away when he discovers it, just as it did for Meng Yao the first time. It’s not particularly big or extravagant, but there’s something about it that makes Meng Yao’s heart ache every time he sees it, as if he’s known it before. It’s ridiculous, of course. He’d never really left the city before starting to work for mister Shanzi.

“It looks like home,” Lan Xichen whispers as he exits the car.

“Does your family have a place like that?”

Lan Xichen frowns, and shakes his head. “No, not at all. But it still feels like home. I can’t explain why… Ah, don’t mind me. Let’s just go inside.”

Meng Yao hides a smile and goes to open the door. In truth, he’d like to get this over with as quickly as possible. Mister Shanzi has no reason to be back from his trip until tomorrow, but Meng Yao won’t feel safe until they’ve left. It really is stupid to have come here at all, and even Lan Xichen’s happiness is starting to not feel worth the risk.

The house is quiet when they go in, and a little cold, making them shiver. It’s always fresh in there, which Meng Yao assumes is why mister Shanzi has taken to calling his home the Hanshi.

“It’s not a very welcoming name for a home,” Lan Xichen says as he looks around, sounding a little distracted.

“It’s not much of a home anyway. He doesn’t live here most of the time,” Meng Yao explains as they head for the kitchen. “It has his private collection, a few personal belongings, and that’s it. He prefers to stay with friends or at hotels if he can. Check the fridge and you’ll see how bad it is.”

While Meng Yao pours himself a glass of water, Lan Xichen does check the fridge, and finds it predictably empty except for some forgotten leftovers. Sometimes, Meng Yao suspects that mister Shanzi doesn’t eat at all unless he has company.

After taking a moment to rest from the long trip, Meng Yao takes Lan Xichen toward the workshop in the basement, where he knows his employer usually keeps the best parts of his collection, fake and authentic paintings carefully divided according to a system he taught to Meng Yao.

It really feels more and more like a betrayal to be doing this, but Lan Xichen is glowing, and mister Shanzi will never know.

Meng Yao starts opening the door.

His blood turns to ice when he realises that there’s light inside the room.

He thinks, for a second, to stop and run away while he can, but it’s too late already. Lan Xichen would ask questions, and he wouldn’t like the answers. It could save him from also dealing with mister Shanzi’s fury at least, but even that won’t be afforded to him. When Meng Yao peaks inside, mister Shanzi’s swivel chair is turning toward the door, with mister Shanzi sitting crossed leg in it and looking curiously at the intruders.

It is painfully obvious that mister Shanzi isn’t expecting visitors. Instead of the polished outfits he favours in public, he’s wearing a pair of novelty boxers with emoji on them, and a hoodie two sizes too big with ink stains on the sleeves. His long hair isn’t in a neat braid, but in a messy bun held in place by some cheap chopsticks. In short, mister Shanzi doesn’t look like the refined young man he endeavours to be when he has to show his face somewhere, and more like a college student who has forgotten the taste of any food except instant noodle and energy drinks.

That impression is only made worse by the headphones he’s now lowering, and the game console on his lap. They must have caught him taking a break.

“Meng Yao, why are you…” mister Shanzi starts asking, unfolding his legs so he can stand up, only to interrupt himself when his gaze falls on Lan Xichen.

His hands start shaking, badly enough that his console falls from his grip and onto the floor, its screen cracking upon impact.

“You!” mister Shanzi gasps, eyes wide with terror.

#xisangyao #xiyao #lan xichen #jin guangyao #xisang #mostly just hinted but still #jau writes #counterfeit au #next chapter will probably be pretty short

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aerynwrites · 4 years

Text

The Hidden Chapter One: The Chroigs

Author’s Note: Do I have unfinished requests? yes I do. Am I starting a ‘The Mandalorian’ Fanfiction. Yes the hell I am. so sorry not sorry. I’m a mess. I apologize. BUT! thank you to @baby-yoda-is-my-life for inspiring to actually write for this man because i have been wanting to for so long but lacked motivation UNTIL- I read their Mandalorian fic which you should all go check out please and thank you. best thing you’ll ever read i promise! Okay now onto this fic that i hope isn’t an absoulte train wreck...

P.S. Yes i made up a species bc i didn’t know many star wars animals sooooo yeah.

Warnings: cursing. cute baby yoda (cuteness needs a warning okay?) and that’s it i think.

Word Count: 1.2k

Chapters: One (you’re here), Two, Three, Four, Five, Six, Seven, Eight

Dyn trudged through the thick jungle, the small green child held securely in his arms. He had found this planet several weeks ago, continuing to try and avoid the ruthless bounty hunters after his charge. He cursed silently as he pushed through the brush attempting to get them both back to the ship.

Why did he choose the jungle planet again?

He shook his head absentmindedly and continued his trek. The small bundle in his arms cooed impatiently grasping at his hand.

He sighed, looking down at the large black orbs staring up at him, “Yes I know, we’re almost back to the ship.”

The child gurgled, seemingly content with what the Mandalorian said, and looked forward just as they broke through into a clearing, their ship two hundred yards away.

Dyn sighed contentedly, “See I told you it-“he cut himself off as he heard rustling in the foliage on either side of the clearing. He stops moving, assessing the situation as his hand rests cautiously on his blaster. Before he can react two large canine beast lunges from the forest surrounding them.

They’re like nothing the man had ever seen before.

They’re large with green fur and eyes as yellow as the sun, and more worryingly, two teeth as long as his arm protruding from their mouths. He pulls the child closer to himself as the beast’s circle around him.

For the first time in a long time, Dyn doesn’t know what to do. He can’t attack both dogs at once and can’t attack one without putting the child at risk. He sees the beast move to an attack position and finally pulls the blaster from his belt. But before he can use is a small metal cannister lands between him and the beasts with a small thud. The animal looks at it curiously before the contraption starts spewing a bright blue smoke. The animals sniff curiously but are quickly affected by whatever chemical was in the cannister. The huff loudly and cry in confusion before running off into the dark forest.

Dyn quickly puts distance between himself and the smoke, while he is unaffected because of his helmet, the kid is unprotected. He stumbles slightly in his haste and falls to the ground. The crunching of leaves in front of him has him quickly pointing his blast in the same direction.

“Woah there buddy, calm down!” he quickly spots you standing in front of him, hands held up in surrender. Your appearance is non-threatening, you wear dark green and brown clothing with a black cape much like his own around your shoulders, but a hood and piece of cloth covers your head, mouth, and nose. the only weapons you seem to have are a staff and several cannisters hooked to your belt.

He lowers his blaster, somewhat appeased you won’t hurt him and offer your hand to him. he brushes off the gesture and stands on his own, cautiously putting his blaster back in his holster.

“What was in that cannister?” he asks gruffly.

You huff and cross your arms, “I feel like a thank you is in order.” You say sarcastically.

He takes a threatening step forward, “What was in it?”

You step back, a slight frustration taking over, and rip your mask from your face, “What does it matter what was in it, you have a helmet and I just saved your ass!” how could he be so ungrateful?

He takes another step forward about to demand once again but a soft cooing sound interrupts him. you are caught off guard by the small sound and point confusedly at the small brown bundle in his arms.

“Is that why you want to know what was in those cannisters?”

The Mandalorian sighs frustratedly, finally holstering his weapon, “Yes.” he states simply.

You have to stifle a giggle and wave your hand absentmindedly, “nothing bad” you reassure, “just some local plants and herbs that the Chroigs do not like.”

“Chroigs?”

You shrug, craning your head slightly to try and get a better look at the bundle in Dyn’s arms, “Those things I just saved you from,” when Dyn moved to shield the child from your eyes you sighed and relaxed, “something which you still haven’t thanked me for by the way.”

He pauses for a moment, looking towards you curiously, “Thank you.”

You nod matter-of-factly an appeased smile on your face, “You’re welcome.”

The Mandalorian just nods before turning on towards his ship and walking away. You start to let him go before a strong curiosity and somewhat empathetic feeling washes over you. He clearly was not from around here, and someone who isn’t from here won’t last long.

“Hey!” you call and jog to catch him before he enters his ship.

He turns slightly towards you as you come to a stop, “Um,” you begin awkwardly, “I uh-I have extra room at my house in the village.”

Dyn doesn’t say anything but turns to face you fully now.

You roll your eyes and huff, “ look all I’m saying is, this place isn’t a vacation spot. If you’re looking to stay a while it’s better to be around people who know the place rather than try and deal with this all on your own,” you gesture to the child, “especially with a kid.”

Dyn looks from you, the small yet powerfully clever woman who saved him, down to the child in his arms. He sighs, looking up at you and nods.

You smile warmly happy that he accepted your offer, “Great!” you stick your hand out, “My names (Y/N).”

The Mandalorian hesitantly reaches his hand out to grasp yours and shakes it firmly, but doesn’t produce a name.

You notice the warmth his hand gives off, even through the gloves, before he drops it. You tils your head curiously, “No name?”

He shakes his head, “No name.”

You splutter and follow him into the ship as sets the child down carefully and starts to gather various supplies into a large backpack.

“Well what am I supposed to call you?” you ask exasperated.

“Whatever you want to call me.”

You open your mouth to tell him that is the stupidest thing ever and ask why he can’t just give you his name, when he shrugs on his bag and picks up the bundle once again. And that’s when you finally see the adorable little creature.

You practically melt at the sight of the small green child and move towards the man holding him. you coo sweetly at him as he grasps for your fingers.

“Oh maker…” you let him grasp your finger tentatively and scream internally when the child lets out a laugh, “He is so adorable! Can I please hold him?” you look hopefully up at the Mandalorian but brushes past you and out of the ships door.

“No.”

You follow behind him quickly as he shuts the ship and look at him as you start to lead the way to your home.

“But why not?” you whined, “I promise I’ll be super careful!”

“No.” he said more firmly.

You sighed and rolled your eyes but didn’t press the issue anymore. You continue to walk in silence, and you spare a quick glance at the duo beside you. You’re still puzzled as to why a Mandalorian is on your plant and has a child with him. you have no clue as to what the answer is, and you have a feeling that it’s not going to be easy to get the man to open up about why they are here.

You smile coyly as you look ahead once more.

Challenge accepted.

#the mandalorian #the mandalorian x reader #mandalorian x reader #dyn jarren #dyn jarren x reader #baby yoda #the child #star wars

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shoshanaxmoore · 3 years

Text

SHOSHANA RAY MOORE. fc: zoe kravitz. 30. Female. She’s lived in Silver Lake for 17 years, on and off. Moved to New York when she was 19, then moved back to Silverlake at 25. She is originally from Aberdeen, Washington. She is a DJ at Los Globos and a part-time dog walker. In her downtime she loves to volunteer at the local animal shelter and she also enjoys competing in roller derby competitions and painting portraits of people she met throughout her day. She rents a house on Redcliff Street, and if you see a bunch of stray cats waiting for food outside of her home, no you didn’t.

BREAKDOWN:

Trigger Warnings: bullying, car accident, death, drug addiction.

Shoshana is born to Fidel and True Moore. She is their second child.

Shoshana is diagnosed with auditory processing disorder, and begins wearing a listening device in school, at the age of 8. Which she ultimately gets bullied for, and she refuses to wear it in high school.

Shoshana and her sister are placed in private school, which was demanded by their father, who wanted his daughters to thrive and gain access to the best kind of education that would benefit his plans for them to later attend ivy league schools.

The Moore’s relocate to Silverlake, California for Fidel’s work and the girls are sent to public school for the first time without realizing it was due to the fact that Fidel took a pay cut for the move.

Shoshana found herself leaning towards a more creative lifestyle, unlike her sister, whom she knew was the favorite one amongst them. Going against her father’s wishes, Shoshana signed up for a music class, as well as an art class. But, she kept her grades up to appease her father and worked a job after school to avoid questions.

A month before graduation, Shoshana’s older sister had been in a horrible car accident in Massachusetts, where she was attending Harvard University.

Unable to live up in the shadow of her sister, Shosh took off for New York, to live with her grandfather, a well-known record producer back in the day, whom she had a wonderful relationship with.

While in New York, Shosh falls into the wrong scene, and with the death of her sister still weighing on her, she finds comfort in late night partying and recreational drug usage. She loses herself.

After years of battling a drug addiction, Shoshana’s grandfather pays for her treatment, and helps her get back onto her feet. She attends therapy, including art therapy and many group sessions of DAA. Her passion for music is reignited and she begins putting together mixes and does a few shows here and there.

Has a short-lived romance with a man she knew for only a few years. He proposes and she denies him for reasons she doesn’t quite understand, but she decides it’s time to move back home to Silverlake.

Becomes a somewhat well-known DJ around Silverlake, but couldn’t seem to branch outside of that. Instead of dwelling on self-doubt, she got a job at Los Globos and continues DJing there to this day.

Receives news that her Grandfather had unexpectedly passed away, but had left her the rest of his inheritance, which she used to buy new DJ equipment and donate to her old high schools music program.

She continues to DJ, but also decided to start a dog walking side gig to make some extra cash. Shoshana also began roller derby as a way to work out any pent-up aggression she may have built up. She continues to paint and sometimes enters local galleries to get her artwork out there.

USEFUL LINKS:

Basics

Timeline

Established Connections

WANTED CONNECTIONS:

please message for a connection discussion :) || most will be highly based on actual muse chemistry.

trigger warnings: mention of an almost overdose.

almost fiance: They met in DAA, he was her sponsor and it was kept a secret, up until their breakup. They dated for a good chunk of the year, did have a spat that turned into a short-lived, three day breakup. This relationship was the closest she had ever gotten to anyone and she shared things with him she hadn’t spoken to anyone in years. But, when he got down on one knee to propose, well, scared her. So much so that she denied him and left back home to Silver Lake without an explanation.

step-sibling: Her dad remarried two years ago, and Shoshana gained a new sibling because of it. Because she still mourns her sister at times, she hasn’t been able to bring herself to fully form a relationship with her new found sibling.

clients: When she’s not djing down at Los Globos, Shoshana is very much busy with running a small dog walking business through the local animal shelter where she volunteers. She lives for animals and it also brings her a sense of peace. So if you have a puppers, she’s in want of walking them.

best childhood friend: Although she moved away without a word to most of her old friends, after her sister passed away, this friend and Shosh managed to keep in touch throughout the years, and maybe they even went out of their way to visit Shoshana whenever they were able to. If anyone knows Shoshana, it’s them and it left them feeling helpless when they found out about her almost od. Shoshana is now trying her best to make it up to them and never wants to disappoint them ever again.

roller derby squad: Having only joined at the beginning of the year, Shoshana finds herself enjoying the time she’s had, despite all the bruises she’s already endured. And the girls she’s met already have become great friends of hers and they often go out together for drinks or dancing or meet-ups at the local skate park for some light skating.

friends she lost touch with: This was another good friend of hers from high school, but after she left she ceased all communication, causing them to become hurt and confused. After she returned she tried to make amends, but it wasn’t as easy as she thought.

the hook-up: She hasn’t been on the dating scene in some time, but that doesn’t mean she can’t have a good time...sort of. She doesn’t do this often, and it was a poor lack in judgment on her part. However, it wasn’t just once that the two found themselves tangled together. It was nice to feel something other than loneliness for once, and it was even nicer that someone wanted that from her.

the down for anything: In an attempt to always stay busy, Shoshana is in need for someone who is always down for anything. She is always searching for new places to explore or new things to do. She needs someone who is able to meet her before sunrise for an early morning surfing session, or someone who is willing to sign up for pottery classes with her or attend hot yoga or paint nights with her.

neighbor(s): She lives on Redcliff St., in the house with the matte emerald green door (she needed to spruce up the place). Shoshana is a good neighbor, who always seems to be in her opened garage painting while waving to all who walk by. She’s probably offered a helping hand before, or knocked on your door before to drop off some tomatoes she grew in her garden.

los globos friend: She’s there every other night, I’d imagine djing, so she’s probably seen the same people in there constantly. Maybe yours approached her on multiple occasions to chat or hang out or maybe even offered to break down her set with her, or walk her to her car. She’s happy to see a familiar face in a crowd full of strangers.

friend(s): Those she can either text or call to go see a movie, or come over and help her move furniture around, or just hang out and play a board game with some drinks.

OTHER:

Very excited to be back here and write again (did have my other trash children here: evie, reeoh and indy once upon a time...).

I’m all for connections and plotting, if you have me on discord HMU, or shoot me a message here for it and I’ll be HAPPY to give it to you, since Tumblr Messenger can be a real pain sometimes. But yeah, like this and I’ll come find you! :))

#slintro #about

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agoodsfpage · 3 years

Text

“This is Morgan Winters, Barely Alive on GLNS News!” - Part 1

Hey! Posted this here and on the forum. Those of you who know me there will know this will not be the first time I've posted the first part of a story, promised to deliver more, and then abandoned the project within, like, an hour, but trust me, guys... I'm going to finish this one this time. I can feel it in my bones.

Anyway, something about the concept of a news reporter catching a cold has been weighing on my brain for just the longest time so I bring you this first part, in which our news reporters does *not*, in fact, catch a cold yet.

There is a little bit of sneezing and illness stuff at the end, but this is mostly about setting the scene, establishing some characters. I feel like actually having some kind of plot is a nice minimal standard to achieve with storytelling, but this might be why I'm always too lazy to finish telling them. If I do fail to post the second part of this one, my next story will just be called 'woman with a cold who is sneezing' and will just be about someone, like, going to various places.

With that in mind, do feel free to remind me to pick this up if you actually really want to see where this story (kind of inevitably) ends up going.

And, excuse the poor formatting. It is not my strong suit.

"...and despite facing calls to resign, the counselor has confirmed he'll remain in his post. From GLNS, this is Morgan Winters, back to you Alex."

Morgan yanked the earpiece out from her ear as quickly as she could, and ran a hand through her long black hair.

"How was that?" she asked Derek, from behind the camera, who gave a simple thumbs up in response. "Good," she said. "Now get me out of here. It's fucking freezing, and these old government buildings never seem to have any heating" "We got a taxi waiting for you outside to get you back to the studio" he replied, as he rewound the footage. "Think we're going to end up back in the van, though, if you ask me. Molly just took a phone call from the boss. Suspect she's going to be looking for you any minute now"

Morgan rolled her eyes and sighed. "Of course she is. What now? World's tallest scarecrow just collapsed? Local teen gets tongue frozen to lampost? Or are we going to interview the mayor's husband again, and hope he's sober enough to string together a full sentence this time?"

Derek shrugged. "I don't commission 'em, Morgan, I just film 'em. You'll have to ask her." "I'll have to avoid her, more like. I'm going to the office. I have a mountain of work to catch up on. I don't have time to do some twee interview with Farmer Dan about Potatofest '22, or whatever they want from me." "You do what you want. Taxi's that way, though. Next to the van" Derek replied, smirking, pointing to the east side of the building, and not taking his eyes off of the footage.

Morgan sighed and made her way to the city hall car park. She spied her taxi from across the road and started to walk towards it when she heard her name in an all-too-familiar and all-too-cheerful tone of voice.

"Slow down, Morgan" Molly called out, from behind her. Morgan closed her eyes, silently cursed her luck, and turned around to face Molly, who was dressed in a garnet-red beret, that (in Morgan's humble and, admittedly, uninformed opinion) badly compliment her curly, silver-blonde hair.

"I am so sorry, Molly, I almost forgot to wait for you," she said, forcing herself to smile. "That's alright, I'd just disappeared to make a quick phone call" Molly replied. "From the station," she said after a slightly uncomfortable pause. "Oh, they're always bothering us while we're busy. Well, I best be going, I need to get back to the--" "Could you do me a favor, Morgan?"

Morgan gritted her teeth, her green eyes lightly glazing over as Molly carried on.

"You see," Molly continued barely registering Morgan's expression, "the public health department just got in touch. It's that time of year when colds and such things are going around, you see. So, the department was wondering if we could send a reporter down to a local physician's to do a quick cold and flu safety report"

Morgan shook her head. "No, Molly, no, absolutely not. I told you, I'm done with these... nothing reports. I'm a serious journalist, alright? I have a degree-- two degrees! Two degrees, I have a Bachelors in Communication, and a Masters in Media and Journalism, okay? I should be covering far more serious topics than this. Health- public health isn't even something I know anything about. Can't you ask Alice to do it?" "We did ask Alice to do it!" Molly replied. "And?" "She can't" "Why not?" "Caught a cold."

Morgan rolled her eyes. "Well, what about Steve or Michael? They should be grateful for any work at this point, to be honest" "No, look, the department wants *you*. They've seen you! They think you have a really down-to-earth personality and a great presentation style. Perfect for delivering this kind of message."

Morgan paused. "They asked for me?" "Yes" "...and they think I have a great presentation style?" "Absolutely" "And a down-to-earth personality?" "Yeah, maybe. Anyway, look, if you do this, there's sure to be some more work coming your way. Good work, too. Not these fluff pieces, not these interviews with outraged retirees. You get to do what you want." Morgan really thought about it. "...No more local food and culture festivals?" "No more anything, just pure you." "...Fine. Fuck you, but... fine." Morgan replied. "When do they want me?" Molly looked at her watch and looked back up at Morgan. "Half an hour ago."

--------

It was not often that Morgan got to visit the more affluent side of town. She lived pretty far from here, and the people who did live here were wealthy enough to keep the cameras away from their neighborhood. While she wasn't thrilled about this assignment, she couldn't help but gawp at the mini-mansions, and luxury restaurants that lined the streets.

Still, all the money and lawyers in the world couldn't keep out the common cold. Almost every face she could spot from the van, was adorned with a red nose, or a tissue pressed tightly against it. Morgan shifted uncomfortably in her seat, as she turned her head towards her phone. She was really starting to regret this.

After a short drive, in which Molly had to negotiate with an incredibly congested toll-booth operator, the van pulled up outside the district's medical center. Derek scrambled out of the van to get the equipment ready, while Morgan and Molly went inside to meet the nurse they were going to be interviewing.

"Hey," Morgan said approaching the receptionist at the front desk, who was busy scribbling some notes into a pad. "Morgan Winters, I'm with GLNS news. This is Molly, I was told you both spoke on the phone about an interview?"

The receptionist looked up from her notepad and something instantly struck Morgan about her appearance. The long, wavy red hair, Morgan had already noticed from a distance. The bright blue eyes were distinctive but didn't immediately catch her notice. No, Morgan's attention was right away drawn to the sore, red rim that ran around the woman's nostrils, that was accentuated by the sudden and thick sniffle she gave.

"One moment..." she muttered, barely managing those precious m's and n's that would have lent clarity to what she said. She casually reached over a small PA system on her desk. "Ndurse Halloway? GLNS are here" she muttered, or something to that effect, at least. Some tinny, staticky voice gave a robotic reply, and the receptionist looked back up to Morgan. "Just take a seat with the oh-others... ih-ISHIEW!"

Morgan was grateful that the receptionist was able to grab a tissue. Still, she would have liked it all the more if the receptionist had actually managed to bring it to her nose, some time before letting out the surprising sneeze.

"Ugh... 'scuse mbe" she mumbled, using the barely touched tissue to blow her already sore nose. "Was the last one standing up until I came in this m-mordi-ih...it'SHIEW!" she sneezed again, clearly an aftershock from the previous sneeze, but this time, thankfully, with the tissue ready to catch it.

'Last one standing...' Morgan mentally repeated with a degree of exasperation, before directing Molly to sit beside her in the waiting room.

"We better make this quick, alright? I'm already regretting every second of this..." she whispered to her assistant, as the woman beside her, blew her nose for the fourteenth time. "Why, what's wrong?" she asked "What do you mean, what's wrong? This place is gross. I feel gross. I want to go back to the office, where it's... I mean still gross, but less gross than this" "Oh, hush. Don't worry about it, it's just a quick interview, bit of filming of... doctor-y things, and we can do the V/O back at the studio" "I don't know how you can be so calm about this" Morgan snapped, as the man next to Molly launched into a coughing fit. Molly simply shrugged. "I'm not bothered. I had my flu shot" she said, confidently. "Do flu shots protect against colds?" asked Morgan Molly paused for a moment. "I mean, yeah, of course, they do. They're basically the same thing. Wouldn't be much point in a flu vaccine if you're just going to get a cold anyway, surely!"

Morgan was skeptical, but before she could open her mouth to object, she heard her name called from the reception.

"Ms. Widters?" the receptionist asked, holding a tissue to her nose as she spoke. "Ndurse Halloway will see you both dow..." she managed, before sneezing three more times into the tissue. As she pulled it away, Morgan winced at how sore and red her nose was starting to look. At that point, Morgan realized that there was nothing she could do to protect herself. From the moment she walked into the health center, she was a dead woman walking.

#snz #snz kink

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norealdestination · 4 years

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No one from Nowhere (1/?)

Finally caved and wrote this sad Stressed boy OC that has been rattling his cage forever. inspired by the stream of LC OC’s that @sparklecryptid and @secret-engima have been pouring from their skulls. sorry if this is garbage but I haven’t written anything serious in years

Mors’ Bastard OC

Name: Miles Nemo [Neh-moh] Graucus Lucis Caelum

Dark haired, grey eyed. Male. Older than Regis by 9 years.

Mother was a loyalist who handed him over to Mors. He was named Miles (soldier) and secretly raised and trained to serve the trueborn heir by Mors and Lord Amicitia. Miles did not have a very nice childhood, but proved magically powerful and talented. He also bears quite a few scars from his child soldier training. (when Cor came along, Mors already had plenty of practice)

Never verbally acknowledged as Mors’ son, but in classified Kings-Eyes-Only files there are medical and progress reports that record their relation.(this may come in later)

Though Miles was desperately loyal, Mors eventually realized that Regis could never be trusted with the knowledge or use of his older brother servant, the crown prince was much too soft would love him too much, would trust him too much. So when Regis was about 10 and Miles 19, Mors magically “gagged” his eldest from any claim to the throne or royal kin and banished him from Insomnia, with the clothes on his back and little else to his name.

Miles renamed himself Nemo (No one) and returned to his mother’s family, House Graucus, or what’s left of it. His granduncle owned a run down farm out on the edge of a tiny town in the boonies of Duscae and gave it to him to live on. Out of sight out of mind.

Run down is a generous description, but cleaning it up gives him something to do so he doesn’t have to think . Since it’s an out of the way property in the middle of nowhere, he experiments with his magic in his free time. Nemo has no other skills but fighting and is kind of lost with no structure to his life, so he makes structure. He fights daemons at night and depression naps during the day between clean up spurts. Gets pretty good and very subtle with his magic. Eventually he weaves a nearly imperceivable anti-daemon warding around the borders of his farm.

The first night he lies awake in bed, with no daemons trying to claw their way inside, the silence is suffocating or maybe that’s just the heavy bitter seal in his mouth. He spends the rest of the night pretending the junk in the fields are daemons and disintegrates them with prejudice.

Clearing the land takes time for one person even with magic. But Nemo has nothing and no one but time.

No he’s not bitter.

Cleaning the up the farm lets a lot of wild flowers grow back in the new space, and soon there are a lot of bees. A Lot of bees. In fact a swarm of bees has invaded his porch.

On one of Nemo’s rare visits to the tiny nowhere town, he actually talks to the man he buys his produce from for the first time. About the bees. It’s a LOT of bees. He has to keep using the back window to get into his own house. Please help.

Taking pity on this hapless city boy, the farmer (Jeth, apparantly) helps him set up a hive and catch the swarm that has claimed his house. Jeth, seeing the Huge field of wildflowers, hints that he wouldn’t mind the first batch of honey from the hive if Nemo can manage to harvest it, and donates some old equipment from his own farm.

It’s...a learning process, but Nemo eventually becomes the local bee keeper of Graucus Farm. It takes time, but Nemo has nothing but time.

The first honey is almost sweet enough to banish the sharp bitter taste he’s been carrying in his mouth since the day that Father-, and smells like standing in the middle of his field at night under the stars. Jeth finds a jar of honey on his own porch with a dried wildflower on the cover, stuck with a beeswax seal. There’s a terse handwritten note of thanks under the jar, but Jeth has come to find that’s just Nemo’s way.

A few years pass. Nemo has planted a couple of flowering herb patches on Jeth’s recommendation, and planted hives in them for when the swarming season comes. At night he weaves wards over the hives, protection and calm, until he can check the well-being of a hive at a glance. The smell of flowers and the soft hum of the hives lulls him to sleep at night, and he feels like maybe one day he’ll be fine.

After a while he has more honey and herbs than he can sell or give away locally in his tiny nowhere town. Jeth asks if he’s ever heard of mead. He hasn’t but the local barflies are enthusiastically supportive and Nemo ends up with a distillery set up in his shed. Every town visit has the locals asking about how it’s going, and well, it’s certainly going that stain on the shed ceiling will never come out. But more and more of them know the reclusive beekeeper by name and it’s.not...bad.

It’s a process, (and if he quietly experiments with infusing his honey, herbs, and mead with magic...) but Nemo has nothing but time.

He lets Jeth have a taste of his first good batch, a bottle with a dried wildflower pressed into the hand written label made for him by Falx, the owner of the bar. Graucus Farm Wildflower Mead. A little silver bee stamped in the middle. Nemo takes the rest of the barrel down to the local bar as a thankyou to the rest of the town. Falx made him his own seat in a quiet corner of the bar. The mead is sweet and floral on the nose, with a dry bite at the end, and it almost disguises the bitter weight on back of his tongue. The old tv on the wall celebrates the Crown Prince’s 18th birthday. Nemo is 27 as he drowns old wishes and nightmares in mead.

One night when Nemo goes out to his shed to check on his latest batch of wildflower mead, he finds a half-dead hunter bleeding all over his lavender. There’s a bloody trail carved through his flowers all the way to the broken fence on the border of his farm. Daemons wander and search in confusion beyond the buzzing of his wards, but cannot find their prey.

He may or may not heal her up with “salves” and “tinctures” (not potions, what would a humble beekeeper in the middle of nowhere be doing with potions) made from his Perfectly Normal herbs and honey and then in the morning puts her to work cleaning up his ruined lavender. Then he feeds her a late lunch, reverse pickpockets one of his many, many jars of honey into the hunter’s pack and kicks her out.

Nemo doesn’t expect to see her again, but she comes back a few months later. With friends. Who are bleeding all over his sage.

Nemo is not a bed&breakfast clinic, he would have you know.

This happens a few more times as his bee farm becomes known to the local hunters as a safe place to stay and recover, (for some strange reason daemons avoid the place like it doesn’t exist. might be the big magical Fuck Off sign Nemo made years ago) and the honey, salves, and tinctures seem to have real rejuvenating qualities. He’s not quite a witch, but the hunters think he might be some kind of green mage. Nemo is not.

Nemo gets so fed up with these hunters (and one repeat offender in particular, she has to be doing on purpose, Astrals know why) that he complains to the Auburnries and tells them to get their hunters Off His Lawn. Instead he gets a caravan set up just within his property line. The Meladico Hunters HQ even pays him rent and a little extra to keep it stocked. He sulks about it a bit, but stocks the caravan with mead and not-potions so they’ll stop trying to come up to the house and trampling his flowers and disturbing his bees. His mead becomes quite popular with the hunters, and they keep on their best behavior, lest the green mage curse them. Nemo is Not a green mage.

That cuts down on the amount of trespassers by 99%. That one particular hunter insists on seeing the (very fetching in her opinion) bee keeping witch personally whenever she gets a booboo. And if she says she stomped one of his flower bushes on the way in, well it gives her a reason to stay and “apologize” to him don’t it? Nemo shouldn’t find this charming, but somehow he does.

Some of her hunter friends think she’s nuts and are worried she’ll get herself cursed. Instead Dacia eventually gets herself a husband.

Nemo gets married, though he couldn’t tell you how it happened. Old Jeth is his best man, and the hunter that trampled through his flowers is his wife. The wedding is attended by nearly the entire town and his wife’s hunter friends. It’s loud and bright, and Nemo is hugged by everyone he knows at least twice.

His Granduncle does not come (travel is unkind to his joints), but sends an orange sapling as a wedding gift. Nemo is startled to see it signed for Miles & Audacia Graucus. No one in his nowhere town knows him as Miles, and it’s jarring to see it again. He pretends he’s not terrified that someone draped in royal black will come as if summoned by his deadname. He pretends he’s not somehow still hurt when the night passes with no sign of acknowledgment from the crown, after all, it’s not like he sent...that man an invitation.

Nemo always thought that even though he had been banished, Mors might have kept watchers on him. He had half-expected a threat of some kind delivered among the wedding gifts, a reminder to stay in his lane and not get ideas above his station. But it is almost worse to find that Mors has decided to forget about him entirely. That he meant so little in the end as to not even merit a warning.

He sends a message reminding his granduncle of his name change not that he even has any papers to begin with in the thank you letter, and plants the orange sapling in the empty space between the house and the brewing shed. Nemo wishes he could bury Miles and all of his twisted feelings in the ground along with it.

It’s strange to be married. His Dacia comes and goes with her work and his house is becoming a home. It takes getting used to. Jeth reminds him that it’s a process, just like life. It takes time and no little effort, but Nemo has someone and not as much time as he used to, and it’s...good.

Eventually, just as the young orange tree starts throwing blossoms, they have a baby. She is the most beautiful thing Nemo has ever seen, and when he holds her for the first time, their magic sparks between them in a way he’s never experienced in all his life. Warm and Safe and Loved. The way family was meant to be. He cries harder than he has ever cried before or since. He names her Kara. Precious. Beloved. So she never ever doubts.

The day of his daughter’s birth is the day the boy who still loved Mors, in spite of everything, finally dies.

He’s free of Miles. And a bit angry. Nemo makes a trip to his mother’s grave on the main family property and pours a bottle of mead over the headstone. They never had contact after she handed him over, and granduncle doesn’t talk much about her. She died a few years before he was banished, so Nemo supposes she was at least spared the shame of it. Both he and Dacia only had to hold their daughter once and knew that they would never have given her away to anyone. He never knew his mother or her circumstances but he finally cuts her out of his heart too and walks away.

Eventually he stops being angry. There’s literally no time with a baby and a wife and friends on top of the honey, herbs, mead, and caravan.

Eventually Prince Regis goes on his pilgrimage. Nemo holds his breath as news of the retinue’s approach trickles in from the hunters. He sends Dacia off to Lestallum to visit her parents with Kara just in case. The prince bypasses their little nowhere town and Nemo can breathe again.

Eventually there is a death and then a coronation. Nemo brings his best cask of mead to the town bar to watch it commence on the old tv and is not bitter. Everyone else in the bar is drunk and joyful. No one much liked Mors, Astrals rest him and so forth, and Regis at 23, seems more personable at least. But the new King is a son of Mors, and Nemo doesn’t trust that smile as far as the horizon goes. After all, he too knows what it means to be a son of Mors, and there was never any room for love in it.

Nemo is quiet sitting in his booth, swirling his glass. He’s the only one at the bar and probably most of Lucis who actually has an inkling of what this truly means for the young king. Even in the tv broadcast on a shitty tv, the ring flickers menacingly at him in the sunlight. Nemo wonders if Regis has felt its teeth before the day of their father’s passing. Perhaps there is no room for love under Mors’ shadow, but there is room for pity.

He toasts his would be master little brother’s image on the screen and thinks, better you than me. The mead is floral on the nose and goes down smooth and sweet, and Nemo is not bitter. Long live the King.

Regis is not King for more than a week when the Restricted Access files become known to him.

In those files meant for the King’s Eyes Only, Regis finds a brother.

#No one from nowhere #ffxv oc #what the heck am i doing #mors bastard au #lc bastard oc #sparklecryptid #secret-engima #My writing #OC #My fic

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bellemorte180 · 4 years

Text

Wanderlust Chapter Ten

A/N: IMPORTANT NOTE AT THE END

Chapter Ten

There were no actual apartment buildings in Mystic Falls but instead a series of old Victorian houses that were divided into separate apartments. The Victorian home that Jeremy’s apartment was located in was massive. It was a dusty green color and had one of those round towers on the side that Victorian architecture were famous for. It had a wraparound porch and Klaus could see a series of small mailboxes located beside the front door. Klaus’s eyes traveled over the building and landed at the very top of it.

Jeremy’s apartment was at the very top and was in what used to be the attic of the house. The house had eight apartments in total and out of courtesy, Vincent called the landlord to inform them that they would be searching the apartment; and requested a set of keys to avoid breaking down the door. Seeing that the landlord was Mayor Lockwood and she wanted to avoid any and all damage, she easily agreed to handing over a set of keys.

Within thirty minutes, Vincent, Klaus and a series of agents were ready to barge into the apartment, bring Jeremy Gilbert in for questioning and search for any evidence that could point to either Jeremy or someone else as the killer; and it wasn’t even close to ten in the morning yet. They were close to ending this, Klaus could feel it. He could see the light at the end of this dark tunnel. A few more turns and they would have him.

The question became whether or not Jeremy was the man they were after.

As quietly as they could, the agents climbed the stairs to the door of Jeremy’s home as quickly as they could. However, due to the homes age, stealth was difficult to come by seeing that the home creaked at certain places. Vincent took the key that Carol Lockwood handed him and slowly unlocked the front door. Klaus pushed the door open as quietly as he could, cursing the creaking sound the hinges made.

The moment the front door was open the first thing they saw was a galley style kitchen that opened to a living space. It was old and outdated but functional. It had old-fashioned tile that was popular in the seventies and light-colored paint on the walls. It was tidy but had enough mess to it that Klaus could tell that people lived there. In the middle of the galley kitchen was a woman who Klaus had only seen once before.

Jeremy’s girlfriend Anna.

Her black hair was tied back into a messy bun and her dark eyes wide. She was in a pair of small pajama shorts and a tank top; clearly having just woken up. Her hands were gripped around a coffee mug that still had steam rolling off of it. Her eyes wide as she took in the agents and when her gaze landed on Klaus; her head turned towards a door that Klaus assumed lead to a bedroom.

“Jeremy. Run!” Anna called out and it was like a chain reaction. Suddenly the silence was broken, and Klaus could hear something breaking in the bedroom. The sound of feet hitting the ground had Klaus taking off towards the bedroom. When Klaus reached the bedroom, he saw a young white male, wearing nothing but a pair of worn jeans try and escape from the window. Klaus reached out and grabbed the loop of Jeremy’s jeans; pulling him backward with some force. He tossed Jeremy onto the bed, the springs creaking as he landed against it. Jeremy jumped up quickly and raced towards the bedroom door but stopped when he all but ran into Vincent; who was leaning against the door casually.

“Running really does not make you appear innocent.” Klaus muttered from behind him and he could even see the faint outlines of an amused smirk on his boss’s face. Jeremy was looking between the two of them as though he was trying to find a way out of this; but by the sounds of the crashing coming from the living room and kitchen, and Anna’s voice yelling at the agents that they would not find anything, he realized that his options were limited.

“Mr. Gilbert, I take it?” Vincent asked but Jeremy did not reply, instead sending Vincent and Klaus a menacing look; or at least what he assumed was menacing. Taking a look at Jeremy Gilbert had Klaus questioning. He was tall, standing close to Klaus’s height and had darker hair than his sister; although, given the fact that Elena was adopted, it was unsurprising. He was built well with muscles and a six pack that some agents would kill for. It was obvious that he spent a significant amount of time in the gym. Klaus took in his arms and could see the faint line of track marks; a sure-fire sign of a drug addict.

“What are you doing?!” Jeremy hissed out as Klaus gripped his forearm and looked at the inside of his arm. He traced the light scars on his arm and noticed how faded they were. These were not fresh; Klaus knew what fresh track marks looked like and these were not it.

“How long have you been clean?” Klaus asked him.

“Almost two years.”

“Good for you. Take him in.” Vincent replied and two agents all but pounced on Jeremy, bypassing both Vincent and Klaus in the process. Jeremy’s eyes grew wide and he tried to struggle as the handcuffs were put on him. The agents pulled him out of the room and led him out of the room. He would be driven to the station where he would wait for Klaus and Vincent to interrogate him. “Tear this room apart. If there is anything to be found. I want it. We got out here.”

For the first time since Vincent arrived on the scene, Klaus did exactly what he was told without question. The bedroom was messy, and Klaus found nothing remarkable about it. The bed was one that would be found at the local superstore and the matching dresser screamed Ikea. Klaus went for the dresser first; starting from the bottom drawer and moving upward. He tore through the clothes and checking to see if any of the drawers had a false bottom.

He ripped the comforter from the bed and pulled out his keys; flipping open the swiss army knife and cut a long line down the center of the mattress, pulling it apart and revealing the springs. Empty. He knocked on the bedroom walls, searching for a hallow spot and removed all pictures from where they were hanging; tossing them to the ground in the process. Klaus moved to the bathroom, checking the tank of the toilet and the medicine cabinet.

He pulled back the shower curtain and looked over the bathtub. He moved to the linen closet and tossed every towel, cloths and supplies to the floor. Finding nothing in the bathroom, Klaus goes back into the bedroom, catching a glimpse of the destruction in the living room; Anna standing in the corner with tears streaming down her eyes.

Klaus moved to the closet. He pushed the clothes aside and tapped on the wall, hoping that the stereotype of old houses having hidden compartments was true. Klaus found himself disappointed. He tossed the shoe on the bottom around and moved to the top shelves. He found a few boxes and moved to dump them on the bed, being mindful of the slash down the middle. Most of what was in the boxes were documents; old tax forms and he found Anna’s birth certificate. However, on the very bottom was a series of pictures. There was nothing out of the ordinary, old photos from when Jeremy was younger but there was one that stood out. Klaus tore away from the bed and the contents he dumped out and walked over to Anna who was standing in the corner, watching her entire apartment being destroyed.

“Why does Jeremy have this picture?” Klaus asked her, holding up the picture so she could look it over. Klaus saw no flicker of surprise and while the picture was innocent enough, he could tell that she had seen if before. “It would be best if you answer me.”

“He dated Vicki when they were younger. Want to see the pictures I have of my ex-boyfriends?” Anna snapped back with narrowed eyes.

“It is not the photo of Vicki that concerns me, it’s the fact that April Young is also present in it.” Klaus told her calmly and Anna said nothing. She made eye contact with Klaus and he knew that she was not going to answer any more of his questions. He turned to the agent who was standing near her, ensuring that she does not flee and spoke. “She does not leave this apartment. Understand?”

Klaus all but ran down the stairs of the old house, heads from other tenants peeking out to see what the commotion was. He ignored them, hell bent on getting to his SUV and back to the station. It wasn’t until he was crossing the lawn that he heard Vincent calling after him.

“Klaus!” Klaus turned to see his boss all but running across the lawn to meet him. He had a confused look on his face and he momentarily forgot that Vincent was also working this case; and that he was already on thin ice with him. Klaus handed him the photo and he look at Klaus in question. “What are you thinking?”

“Something bothered me early on. Marcel…”Klaus paused, taking a breath at the mention of Marcel’s name “and I dug into the lives of each of the victims. Andi was well loved in this town and by the sounds of it, they rolled out the red carpet with every visit. She had a long-term on again and off again relationship with Damon Salvatore. Caroline has her mom, friends, and an ex fiancé. Vicki had connections all over this town. Her brother, sleeping with her boss, dating Jeremy Gilbert in high school and sleeping with Tyler Lockwood. They all had roots that ran deep.”

“But not April and Cami.”

“Cami was easy to explain. She wasn’t from here. She didn’t grow up here or know anyone. Mystic Falls was nothing more than a pit stop on a tour of small towns during a road trip to visit her brother. She was a victim of opportunity. What bothered me at first and I should have followed my gut was April. Or rather, the lack of relationships or anything on her outside of a rocky relationship with her father.”

“I’m not following.”

“No one reported her missing. She up and left her job in Richmond. Not a single friend there missed her. She was pregnant and no one could tell us who the father was and not a single man came forward searching for her. Why? Tyler Lockwood said she was forgettable but someone outside of her father had to have some relationship with her. This picture shows she had roots here. A connection. If Jeremy is not the killer, he most certainly knows who is.”

“Then we need to talk to Jeremy Gilbert.” Vincent opened the passenger side door and climbed inside. Klaus ran around the car and took off once the driver’s side door was shut. He broke every traffic rule on the way to the station, the police lights on the SUV flashing and the siren blaring. When they pulled into the parking lot, Klaus slammed the car into park and all but ran into the station.

“What interrogation room is Jeremy Gilbert in?” Klaus barked out when he reached the front desk, not caring who the officer was behind the desk. Once he got his answer, he brushed past him with Vincent on his heels; the latter not even bothering scolding his agent on his lack of manners as he would have in the past.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw Rose-Marie, the attorney who was with Elena in their interrogation speaking with Damon and Stefan Salvatore. Klaus was too focused on the task at hand to find the irony that it would be both brothers who would be willing to hire an attorney to get Elena out of trouble; or at least, minimize the trouble she was in.

Klaus paused at the interrogation door, allowing his heart to steady and his thoughts to collect. He made eye contact with Vincent, who nodded, and the both walked into the room to see Jeremy handcuffed to the table, shirtless and a few bruises forming on his arms that were obtained from his struggle when the agents tried to put them in the back of the SUV. They both sat down across from Jeremy, gazing at the other man; realizing that this was not going to be easy.

“Yesterday afternoon we picked up your sister in connection to the murders of four woman and the kidnapping of Caroline Forbes.” Vincent told Jeremy; whose eyes grew wide. It was clear that he had not heard the news of the arrest. “She told us an interesting story. Back in November you had asked your sister to steal a large quantity of drugs from the hospital she worked at. Why?”

Jeremy said nothing.

“She also said you specifically asked for Dilaudid. That is not an easy drug to come by nor is it used by recovering drug addicts. Use a dose that is slightly too high, and you would end up overdosing. Seeing the fact that you’re still here and appear to be clean of drugs, makes me wonder what happened to the Dilaudid.”

Jeremy remained silent.

“Why would you risk your sister’s career for Dilaudid? There are easier drugs to come by. Heroin. Meth. Cocaine. Ecstasy. All those would have similar affects and are far more difficult to be traced by the DEA. So, I will ask you again, why did you have Elena steal the Dilaudid from the hospital?”

He once again, said nothing.

“Four women are dead Jeremy. Drugged with the same medication you had your sister steal.” Klaus snapped at him, his patience wearing thin. He pulled out the photo of him with his arms wrapped around both Vicki and April. “One of those women was your ex-girlfriend and another one was the other woman in this photo.”

Jeremy looked down at the photo and Klaus could see a crack in his demeanor. He continued to gaze at the photo and Klaus could tell that his mind was raging back and forth; battling over something that he could just not see.

“What was your relationship with April Young?”

“We were friends.” Jeremy stated in a hollow voice. “That’s it. April and Vicki were close, unlikely best friends back in the day. April tried more than once to get Vicki clean but never succeeded. I rarely saw her after graduating high school. She went off to college and Vicki and I stayed behind.” Jeremy shifted his eyes away from the picture. “That’s it.”

“You’re lying.” Klaus leaned forward, gazing at Jeremy. “You know more than what you’re letting on. You’ve had contact with April over the years. Haven’t you?” Jeremy said nothing as his looked over the agent’s shoulders, staring at nothing. “She may have fallen out with Vicki who continued down a destructive path, but she would have heard that you got clean. She would have been proud of you and reached out. She did, didn’t she?”

“You need to talk to us Mr. Gilbert.” Vincent chimed in. “It will go very badly for you if you don’t.” Jeremy shook his head. “Let me explain to you what this looks like. You were given a large amount of drugs that were used in the murder of four women and the kidnapping of another. You have not told us what happened to those drugs or where they are now. You have connections to all the victims except one who has been ruled an opportunistic kill. You don’t talk to us, you’re going down for these murders.”

“I sold the drugs.” Jeremy bit out quickly, going into a panic.

“I don’t believe you.” Klaus bit out. His jaw clenched in fury and was close to losing his temper. “These women were strangled to death after spending three months locked in a cell. They carved their names into the wall. He mutilated their bodies after he killed them. Your ex-girlfriend. Your high school classmate, Andi. A young woman by the name of Cami. She wanted to be a therapist. Your friend April. That is what they suffered. Your sister’s best friend almost met the same fate. So, you tell me right now, did you kill them?”

“No.”

“Who did?”

“I don’t know.”

“You’re lying, Jeremy.”

“I don’t know!” Jeremy yelled, tears starting to stream down his face. He slumped back in the uncomfortable metal chair. He looked at the ceiling as though he was pleading with some unknown force. “I don’t know. I just don’t know.”

“She was pregnant.” Klaus told him gently. Jeremy turned to look at him; confusion written all over his face. “April. She left Richmond in hopes of raising her child here, in Mystic Falls. Her father didn’t support her choice to have a baby out of wedlock. She was trying to find a life where her child would be safe and loved. But you didn’t know that did you? You didn’t know she was going to have a baby.”

“No. No. I didn’t.” Jeremy whispered, a fresh set of tears running down his cheeks; shock etched into the lines of his face, making him appear far older than twenty-seven. It was in that moment that Klaus knew that Jeremy was innocent. He didn’t kill those women, but he was likely to go down for it if he did not confess what he knew.

“Virginia still uses capital punishment. If you don’t talk to us and you go down for this, you’re not facing a life in prison. You’re facing lethal injection.” Klaus slid the photo across the table to Jeremy. He pointed at April, drawing his attention to her. “She was your friend.” He moved his finger to the photo of Vicki. “I know she broke your heart, but you loved her once.” Jeremy just stared at it and Klaus could see the memories flowing through his mind. “Who killed them?”

“No. No. No.” Jeremy shook his head. He pulled himself from his thoughts and shook his head. “Charge me. I confess. I killed them. All of them. I locked them in the Lockwood cellars and buried them by the Falls. Charge me. I confess.”

Klaus and Vincent looked at one another, both thinking along the same lies. It was a false confession. Jeremy is not the man they were hunting. He does not appear to be the man who was taunting Caroline and he showed genuine remorse for their murders. Vincent unfolded his arms and leaned forward.

“You’re confessing to the murders of Victoria Donovan, April Young, Andi Star and Camille O’Connell as well as to the kidnapping of Caroline Forbes?” Vincent looked at him, chained to the chair. He nodded. “I have a question for you. After you strangled them, what did you do to the bodies?”

“What?”

“What did you do to the bodies?” Unable to answer, he just looked between Klaus and Vincent; giving them the answer they already knew. Vincent sighed and closed his eyes; shaking his head. “You didn’t kill these women Mr. Gilbert, but you know who did.” Jeremy still remained silent and Klaus could see the sympathy written on Vincent’s face. “What is he threatening you with?”

“Anna.” Jeremy whispered. “He is threatening Anna.” Another looked passed between Klaus and Vincent. “Anna was my saving grace. If it was not for her, I would have ended up back on drugs. I love her.” He gave a humorless laugh. “If I tell you the truth, he will kill her. If I have to take a needle in the arm so she can live, I’ll do it. I can’t risk her. Not her. I’m sorry. I can’t help you.”

The two agents nodded, knowing that they were done and left the interrogation room. They were silent as they moved down into the busy station. Liz caught Klaus’s eye. She was dressed in civilian clothing, her arms crossed and worried. She heard the news that they picked up Jeremy; he could tell it in her posture. He knew her question.

Was Jeremy Gilbert the man who committed these heinous crimes? Was he the one who hurt Caroline?

Klaus shook his head, telling her that it was not Jeremy. Liz’s shoulder’s slumped, her eyes closed, and her lips pursed together. She looked utterly defeated. She had hope that this was finally over and Klaus felt as though a led pipe was dropped in his stomach for being the one to dash that hope. With a heavy heart, Klaus followed Vincent into the office; leaving its owner standing out in the lobby.

“What do you think?” Vincent asked in a low voice. Klaus slumped down into a chair that was stationed across from Liz’s desk; which Vincent was leaning against.

“He didn’t do this.” Klaus told him and Vincent nodded, agreeing with him. “But he knows who did.” He closed his eyes. “I say we bring in Anna. Convince her to help us. She won’t want Jeremy to go to prison for the rest of his life for something he did not do. We can use her to convince him to tell us what he knows.”

“I like it. She might be hostile towards us though. We did just arrest her boyfriend and tear her apartment to shreds.” Klaus shrugged in response; knowing full well he had done far worse and still got a witness to corporate. “What else are you thinking about?”

“April.” Klaus replied. “I think we need to talk to Pastor Young again. He could not have been completely blind to his daughter’s life. He would have to know if she had a boyfriend in high school or that she was friends with Vicki. He came off as a strict parent.”

“She was close friends with two drug addicts. I think she was a pro at hiding things from her father. There is a chance that if she did have a boyfriend, he didn’t know about it.” Vincent rebutted and Klaus knew he was right, but it was still worth a shot. “You said he was taken aback when she told him of her pregnancy? He had no idea who the father was?”

“Yeah. He was and he had no idea. According to him, April was not in a relationship.” Klaus pinched the bridge of his nose, a headache forming and a feeling of dread combing through him; the adrenaline from the interrogation leaving him. “What do you think? Should we bring them in?”

“Yeah. Well, go and talk with Anna first and see if she can help us. If not, we will talk with Pastor Young again and see if anything else comes to mind.” Klaus stood from his chair, the tension still in his back. “Klaus.” Klaus turned to look at his boss who was staring at him, deep in thought. “I’m still pissed at you for last night, but, good work. You’re good at this. Are you sure you want to leave?”

“After last night? And Marcel?” Klaus looked at him, searching for some kind of understanding in his superior’s face. He found nothing more than confusion, stress and genuine worry. “More than anything.”

Klaus made his way out of the office and reached for his phone in order to dial the agents that were still at Jeremy and Anna’s apartment. He would have those agents bring Anna in. He was already crafting the questions and persuasion tactics that he would use in order to get her to help them. His mind reared to the first time he saw her at Alaric and Jenna Saltzman’s home; she was speaking with Elena. She knew more than she was letting on.

“Klaus!” Klaus was halfway through dialing the phone number when he heard his name being called. He looked up to see Caroline rushing towards him. Her hair was down and straight; unlike the wet messy bun she had it in when he left her home that morning. A black purse was slung over her shoulder. She appeared worried, terrified and concerned. “Is it true? Did you arrest Jeremy Gilbert?”

“Shit.” Klaus cursed. He should have known that it would not be long before it was all over town. They were lucky with Elena Gilbert. It was later in the day when they had brought her in, but it was still early, and Jeremy’s arrest would have gathered a significant amount of attention; especially with Mayor Lockwood being contacted in order to execute the warrant on her building.

“It’s true?” Tears welled up in her eyes and Klaus could see the relief, fear and betrayal all play behind them. Klaus placed his hands on the small of her back and lead her across the room towards the small kitchenette. Liz was waiting there, with her arms crossed and was leaning against the counter. She held out her arms and Caroline went into them willing. “Did he do this to me?”

“Jeremy is being questioned in regard to the murders and your kidnapping, yes but we do not think he is the man. He confessed to the killings, but he does not know some of the details of the murder.” Both Liz and Caroline looked confused. “There are certain…details in the autopsy report that we kept quiet. It was a false confession.” Caroline’s face was streaming with tears and Klaus could not be sure if it was out of relief or disappointment; perhaps a bit of both and a large mixture of fear. “He knows something. He is hiding something, and Vincent and I are working to discover what it is.”

“He is not talking?” Liz asked and Klaus shook his head. He could feel the anger vibrating off of Liz and Klaus made a mental note to keep her away from the interrogation room. Liz was a good cop, but he could not be sure she wouldn’t take her anger out on Jeremy. “I want to talk to him.”

“Liz. No.”

“Klaus. He hurt my baby.”

“Listen to me.” Klaus implored, staring directly at her. “We are close. If we can get Jeremy to crack, we will be able to bring in the right man.” He shifted his gaze back to Caroline who was barely holding herself together. “I promise you that I will not rest until this is over. Nothing is more important than tracking him down.”

Not caring that her mother was standing in the kitchenette nor the fact that at least a dozen officers could see them, Caroline left Liz’s arms and replaced them with Klaus’s. She buried her face into his chest and Klaus wrapped his arms around her; rocking back and forth, hoping to provide some form of comfort. He could feel his shirt dampen slightly by her tears and could hear her muffled sobs.

Seeing her completely break down only fueled the anger that he was feeling. Mixing her distress and the memory of Marcel’s body laying cold in the morgue below, set a new solve in Klaus that he had not felt in years. He wanted to push himself harder and better; in a way that he had done so in years. Never before had he hated an unknown suspect as he did this man. There was a part of him that wanted to see him bleed.

Klaus leaned down and kissed the top of Caroline’s head; knowing that Liz was watching the two of them, but he could not be sure if she was really seeing them. Her mind was so preoccupied with Jeremy that he could lock lips with Caroline, and she would be oblivious.

“Klaus.” Caroline’s muffled voice came, and Klaus pulled out of the embrace. He looked own at her tear stained face. Her skin was blotchy, red and he could see the trail of tears that were stained on her cheeks. “There is something else. I got another one.”

“Another what? Letter.” Caroline nodded and reached into the black handbag and pulled out a piece of paper. Much like the others, it was a piece of computer paper that had typed lettering on it that was non-descript. “He was there. Last night. He was there.”

Caroline,

Did you enjoy it? Enjoy him? Did you enjoy it when he touched you? When he was inside you?

I’m angry Caroline.

You belong to me and you let him touch you. I do not know if I can forgive that. You betrayed me. You’re planning on leaving me, I can see that. I won’t let you. You belong here.

I’ve been lenient so far, but I think it is time for you to come home.

Your only friend.

A fresh wave of hot fury pulsed through him. Memories of the previous night flashed before his eyes. He remembered Caroline being in his arms and the feeling he had when he kissed her. He could see the moment she fell apart for him so clearly. The look in her eyes when he made love to her was something, he wanted to hold dear and yet this man had watched it all.

How? He was not physically in the house. Klaus was sure of that. He would have heard him come in and Vanchure and Rosza were stationed outside. How would he have seen them with enough knowledge to know that they had sex? His first instinct was the fact that he must have planted a camera somehow inside the house, but Klaus searched the house when Caroline was still missing; unless he missed something. Regardless, one thing was very clear.

Caroline was not safe in her home.

Klaus looked back at Caroline, a thousand thoughts echoing in his mind. She appeared so vulnerable and he hated seeing her so. The Caroline he had grown to admire and had feelings for was strong and full of light. Seeing her break only made his anger run hotter than before. He kissed her forehead before looking directly into her eyes.

“I want you to go home, pack a bag and come back here.” He thought for a moment that she was going to argue but she didn’t. She nodded her head in agreement. He looked towards Liz, who was still fidgeting angerly and was itching to get a look at Jeremy. “Liz, take her home. Help her get some stuff together and come back.”

“No. I’m staying here until we find him.” There was no we in this case and Liz knew that, but Klaus could tell that there would be no convincing her otherwise. Klaus was resolved to accept that Liz was not going anywhere, and that Caroline would have to go the house with agents. Klaus nodded before turning back to Caroline.

“Take agents with you.” Caroline nodded but said nothing, fear still evident in her eyes. Klaus leaned down and kissed her gently on the lips, hoping that it would bring some relief to her; even if it was temporary. When Klaus pulled away, he looked around, not caring that they were in full view of a packed room, but searched for the agents that brought her in. “Vanchure.” The other agent came over and Klaus could see the bags under his eyes; exhaustion was evident in the other agent. “Take Caroline to her house. She is going to pack a bag and come straight back here. Understand?”

“Got it.” Vanchure responded and Klaus leaned down to kiss the top of Caroline’s head again. She walked over to Vanchure but had her arms wrapped around herself and Klaus was beginning to realize that was her tell; whenever she felt vulnerable or hurt, Caroline would hug her arms around herself as though they were a shield she was clinging to. “Are you close? To catching him?”

Klaus looked at Vanchure and could see the anger radiating from him. With everything going on, Klaus had forgotten that Vanchure had been friends with Marcel. He never considered how his death would affect him. It was clear that he was taking the death hard. He remembered Marcel telling him about Vanchure’s wedding a few years previously and how he detested being the best man. It hit home that once again, Marcel was dead.

“We’re close. We will catch him.”

“Then I’ll take care of her.” Vanchure and Klaus nodded to one another. Vanchure placed his hand on Caroline’s shoulder. He steered her towards Rosza, but Caroline looked over her shoulder as they headed towards the exit. He watched them walk away until they turned a corner and she was out of sight. He turned back and Liz was about to speak but Klaus shook his head.

“No Liz.”

“She is my daughter.” Liz hissed back. “When she was born, I promised that I would protect her, and I failed. I know that I haven’t been the best mother in the world and that Caroline learned to stand on her own two feet far too early but this; I can’t…. please. Let me talk to him.”

“Liz. I can’t. You know I can’t let you in there.” Klaus soothed, trying to reason with her but the woman was stubborn; and Klaus could see where Caroline got that trait from. “I understand where you’re coming from. I’m furious. My best friend is dead and the woman who I –“ Klaus stopped himself. It was too soon for such declarations; especially when he did not fully understand what he was feeling. “I care about her, more than I should but I cannot let you go in there.”

“You really do, don’t you? Care for her?” Liz stared at him, echoing words Elena had said to him only two hours prior. Klaus just nodded and Liz seemed to take a deep breath. “Then you will do what is right by her. Even if it is hard?”

“Always.” Klaus vowed and he knew that they were not speaking about Jeremy no longer. Liz knew something was going on between her daughter and Klaus; if she had seen the note, she would know exactly what transpired between them the night before. If she did, she did not comment on it. However, her opinion was clear. She liked Klaus; that much was obvious but was the timing, right? Caroline was hurting and clinging to anything she could that would bring her comfort. Klaus did not doubt that her feelings where not real but was it too soon? And for him? He had no idea where his life would lead after this case, but he knew that no matter where he ended up, he wanted Caroline to be a part of his life. “I will always do right by her.”

“You’re a good man Klaus.” With that, Liz walked out of the kitchenette. She paused and looked over her shoulder. “I’m not leaving.”

“I wouldn’t expect anything less.” Klaus replied and Liz gave him a warm smile. Klaus nodded and headed back towards the office that Vincent was using. Not caring that Vincent was on the phone, Klaus barged in and tossed the note onto the desk. His supervisor picked it up and read over the words type onto the paper.

“I’ll have to call you back.” Vincent disconnected his call and tossed the phone down with a hard thump. He read the note again, allowing the words to sink in before leaning back and rubbing his head. “For fucks sake. There is no keeping this out of reports now. I was just on the phone with the director. He is hounding me about solving this case because a reporter that Andi Star worked with heard about the investigation and is expecting those vultures to descended upon Mystic Falls first thing in the morning.”

“How do you know that?”

“They ran a news report. Aired first thing this morning.”

“Shit.”

“And here you are fucking a witness. This is a train wreck.”

“We are close. You know that.” Klaus said, ignoring Vincent’s remark. He did not care about the hassle he was going to face. Klaus was not one for diplomacy and only cared about tracking down the man who was killing these women. “I told Caroline to pack a bag and come straight back here. I have no idea how he knew I was with her last night, but she clearly is no longer safe there. Vanchure and Rosza with her.”

“Good call.” Vincent replied, sending him an annoyed look. “Did you call agents to bring in Jeremy’s girlfriend?”

“No-“ Before Klaus could respond, there was knock on the office door and they both turned to see an unexpected sight. Tyler Lockwood was standing in the doorway. He looked tired and worn out, as though he had been wrestling with himself over something. Klaus narrowed his eyes at him. “Can we help you?”

“Yeah. I ran into Liz in the lobby and she said you would be in here.” Tyler’s eyes traveled to Vincent, having never met him before. “My mom told me that you picked up Jeremy Gilbert. In connection to the murders?”

“We have.”

“He didn’t do it.” Tyler said and Klaus could see him gathering up little bit of courage he had. “When you and your partner came to my house the other day, I wasn’t completely honest with you. I lied about something or rather, left a piece of information out. I know Jeremy did not murder these women.” Vincent stood and shared a look with Klaus. “But I know who did.”

A/N: You may know that the amazing @klavscaroline and I are collaborating on a betting pool for this story. Below is the information and link to participate!

Please note that the betting pool was created by Klavscaroline and all credit for the pool should go to her!Wanderlust Betting Pool

Who is the killer? Could it be the Salvatore brothers? The Gilberts? The Lockwoods? Or someone else altogether. Throughout these few weeks, we’ve been following the story of the kidnapping of Caroline Forbes. Along with Special Agent Klaus Mikaelson, we’re dying to know who the serial killer is. (No pun intended) In honour of this story that has captured our hearts, I’m collaborating with @bellemorte180 to organise the Wanderlust Betting Pool, where you, the readers, can take part in guessing who the killer is. There will even be a prize for the winner!

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#klaroline #Wanderlust #wanderlust betting pool

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spnsmile · 4 years

Text

Insert, Cas

Monday: Jealousy

written for #SpnStayAtHome challenge @pray4jensen @bend-me-shape-me @helianthus21 @verobatto-angelxhunter

Remember that episode where Dean Winchester wears his favorite nightgown? Where they celebrate the last holiday season 15 ep 14? Yes, that! Jealous Cas and Jealous Dean over some nightgown!

written for #spnStayAtHome Challenge

To say he was a little behind of everything was an understatement. Castiel comes home that morning from another trip to find the household in a post-celebration state judging from the leftovers on the table. Candlesticks he’d never seen before are on top of a white thanksgiving mantle and a plastic Turkey making Castiel feel he missed something out, especially when he hears laughter from the kitchen with everyone still hyped up in its wake.

He finds Sam and Dean with Jack inside the kitchen, all still talking merrily over coffee and vegetable salad. The three are huddled together on the table discussing something that brings smiles at the corner of their lips. Smiling to himself, he follows the sound, smiles even more at finding his little family happy.

Dean saw him first and says something about the ‘missing gay angel’ to which he tilts his head as he steps inside to join them. Sam offers him his chair, saying something about early research while Dean brings his empty cup and Sam’s plate on the sink, leaving the attentive smiling angel with Jack.

He doesn’t need to ask. Jack bombards him of details about how last night was the happiest all-holiday-night he’s ever had. Castiel squints. Apparently, they had a very special visitor last night—someone magical and warm and good. Castiel has to glance back from the boy to Dean then back at Jack who was becoming such a passionate storyteller.

“…she’s a wood nymph living in the Bunker-"

Castiel gapes. Dean shrugs from where he stands. "She's a resident, Cas."

"Wood nymph? Here? But I would've known-"

"Maybe from a local neighborhood?"

Castiel shakes his head, more questions than getting enough answers until Jack is talking again.

"Cas, you should’ve met her. She was very nice and very lovely and kind. The food she made was so good and delicious! Even Dean said it’s the best thing homemade he’s had after Mary’s.” Jack pauses with a blink, then smiles. “She was so fun to have. She treated us with all these holiday meals and it was amazing. We were so happy last night, I wished you could’ve been here.”

Castiel smiles, not sure it was in his best interest to be here last night to be happy.

Then he feels the heated gaze first before he hears Dean speak.

“Yeah, where were you?” Dean snaps, making Castiel lower his gaze not meeting Dean’s eyes. “I was trying to call you last night, you kept me on voice mail, man. What did I say about not picking up the phone?”

“I’m sorry. I was caught up in a small hunt. It was necessary I took care of it.”

Dean turns thoughtfully.

“Was it dangerous?” he likes to know.

“Well, I’m in one piece,” Castiel says drily.

“Geez, just asking.” Dean grunts and Castiel doesn’t argue with him because he didn’t want Dean in a bad mood early in the morning. But then he guesses the god mood would stretch on the way Dean easily lets it go, still humming by the sink.

Jack continues his monologue about how the woodnymph was living in the Bunker for a long time, not disturbing the living folks because that’s what fairies do until Sam tells her there might not be a Bunker in the future so she decides to give them a sendoff party, calling it their last holiday on earth.

“You’re not supposed to smiles saying that, Jack,” Castiel says gently to the still smiling boy.

“Well, it didn’t stop Dean wearing his nightgown—”

“Nightshirt, kid!” Dean hisses and whatever he is doing by the sink, Castiel no longer cares. Dean is blushing, that’s enough distraction for him to not interrupt. “So, it’s soft and fluffy and looks straight from Peter Pan but she’s my Tinkerbell, what was I supposed to do?”

“He told her that.” Jack muses, “She’s very smart, Cas. She figured the best way to keep her family safe is to stay in Men of Letters and then Sam and Dean too… very pleased with us. She said she didn’t expect Sam and Dean to be too less human…I don’t think she meant it in a bad way. You would’ve loved her, Cas. Dean does.”

Dean turns at the angel about to say something funny because Dean always thinks it’s hilarious, except he stops at the heavy look Castiel throws his way. The hunter freezes.

“What? Something on my face?”

“What?”

Castiel ignores him turns to Jack. “Is she still here?”

“No, she had to leave to look for a safer place after we told her the Bunker is a possible target of Chuck.”

“Oh.”

“It’s her home.” Dean wipes his hands with a towel as he walks to the table. “She’ll come back.”

“She liked your nightshirt and nightcap too so maybe she will,” Jack adds and Dean flushes, embarrassed the tip of his ears turning red. Castiel stares and listens more until Jack says he’d like to help Sam with research and then he’s off with feet sound of feet disappearing along the corridor.

Dean only shrugs when he and Castiel are left behind. Hanging the towel by the sink, he asks Castiel if he wants a beer to which the angel declines.

He follows Dean with his eyes imagining the violet nightshirt he could swear Dean ordered from Amazon Primer after their short adventure in the Scooby-doo realm. Dean is no longer wearing said soft article but is now back at his regular lumberjack and hard jeans-wearing his boots that showed no softness whatsoever.

Castiel frowns. He doesn’t wait for Dean to close the cold storage; the angel shoots up to his feet that Dean bumps right at him when he turns.

The can of beer slips from Dean’s hand but the hunter got it right on reflex catching it midair.

“Cas!” he exclaims a little surprise when they stand face to face, “What—are we not going back to old habits? Geez.”

Dean slips past him with petulant glare Castiel is already so used to. When Dean turns and finds the angel on his tail again, the hunter finally pauses and studies him.

“Okay, you’re freaking me out. What?”

Castiel opens his mouth, unsure what to say but Dean rolls his eyes.

“Cas, if you’re going to bitch at me for something I don’t remember doing—hell—we barely even see each other for me to actually screw you.”

“I’m sorry, I should have your calls.”

There’s a pause between Dean opening the can of beer and stopping. Castiel shifts at Dean’s gaze so he snatches the can and opens it for Dean. He pushes it back on the hunter’s hand, not quite looking him in the eyes. He knows Dean must be looking as perplexed as he is.

“Okay, what’s happening, Cas? You gonna talk or I’m going to make you?”

That gets him squinting up. “Make me? How?”

Dean takes a step towards him and Castiel itches to remind him of personal space. Except unlike Dean, he doesn’t really mind staring up so closely when he can enjoy the numerous counts of Dean’s freckled cheeks under the fluorescent light.

“What’s got your wings all ruffled?”

“You can’t see them.” The angel snaps.

“Cas.”

Castiel licks his lips.

“Oh, she’s my favorite.” Dean sighs.

Castiel sinks on his chair and glowers.

“Why?” he asks flatly. Dean shrugs.

“She’s my Tinkerbell.”

“Is she tiny?” Castiel narrows his eyes. Dean’s eyes dances.

“You’ve no idea—”

“I haven’t. I wasn’t here.”

Dean pauses as if catching on the dry tone. Castiel rolls his eyes and stares hard at the edge of the table with clasped hands not wanting to meet Dean’s eyes.

“Well, who’s fault is that?”

Castiel looks away unwilling to admit on any fault because it wasn’t his. So, he was needed outside, he had things to do outside and keep as much distance from Dean when such proximity could threaten his existence and leave the Winchester and Jack at the hour of dire need. Dean makes a

“What am I supposed to do, Cas? You’re always out of the Bunker, always out on a mission. It’s like you can’t even stay put one second here—I mean, is it me, or are you just avoiding me?”

Castiel startles.

“I’m not—”

“Yes, you are! Do you think I didn’t notice ever since Purgatory? Finger count the number of times you’ve been home, Cas. I barely remember your last words to me—”

“It was the day before yesterday, I said—"

“Two words! Cas, go figure! You’re avoiding me!”

“Am not.” Castiel grits his teeth, keeping his grip on Dean’s shirt, “Dean, you know I stay here as much as you do—”

“To babysit Jack, I get it— ever think of the last time we drank together? Only two of us? Yeah, that long. And whenever you’re around, the time spent is you on your phone with some sleazy Russian-dude I barely know who probably wants to do bad things to you—why are you always on the phone with that guy, huh?”

“We talked about this, he’s a resource.”

“You talk to him on the phone more than you talk to me!”

Castiel bristles.

“Dean, I don’t understand the relation why you have to bring him up when you’re the one who flirted with a nymph who likes you in a nightgown because you are likable in anything you wear! If anyone should be jealous, it should be me.”

Dean blinks. “W-who says I was jealous?”

“I didn’t.” Castiel glares. “I said I am.”

So, he was and it was the truth. Dean needs to hear it because hinting doesn’t work with Dean even if he is the most suggestive human Castiel has ever endearingly met. The angel looks up in time to see the black of Dean’s irises expanding round leaving the greens like a halo around his pupils.

“Y-you’re jealous?”

“I am.” Castiel looks away.

“Jealous of what?”

“Nightshirt.”

“You want to wear my nightgown?”

Castiel stares down the floor, face flushing at Dean’s stupid antics. He knows Dean understands—or maybe not.

“I want to see you in the nightshirt!”

And thankfully Sam comes bounding back with Jack on his heels so Castiel is saved from saying anything further as I love you. Dean doesn’t let him go easy though. He tugs Castiel back by the wrist once Sam is done with the timely announcement.

“Oh, so I know your kink,” Dean whispers when his brother is out of earshot. “You wanna see me on my nightgown?”

“It’s a nightshirt. Move your ass, Dean.”

And the morning is filled with a very flirty Dean Winchester lacing their fingers together or bumping their shoulders even when seated.

Castiel doesn’t discourage him but he doesn’t do the opposite either. At least Dean satisfies himself with something so little while Sam drones on some intel about Chuck. Then Dean doesn’t stop giving Castiel that look between smiling and flirting like Castiel is the best thing inside the Bunker. And all this is because of one confession— all Dean knows is that Castiel is jealous and that’s enough for him to live by.

Castiel can’t believe Dean has no idea of their stand.

Every single time he was out of the Bunker listening to Jack telling Dean’s lame joke repeatedly the same day, said over and over until Sam is grimacing and Jack retelling his own version. The sound of Dean’s laughter so achingly familiar over the phone while Castiel speaks to Sam on the phone asking for information while a hundred miles away.

It hurts.

Every single time he is out of the Bunker.

He is jealous of Jack spending time with Dean.

He is jealous of Sam spending time with Dean.

He is jealous of the Wood Nymph who made Dean the best food. He wants to see Dean on the nightshirt. He is jealous… so jealous to the point he thinks being happy is out of reach and it’s a sacrifice he was willing to take.

Would still keep doing if it meant he can stay with them all the while figuring out a way to get out of the deal with his own hand.

He wasn’t going to make the Winchesters suffer unnecessarily on his behalf when he can do something about it before it happens. But for now, he will keep from Dean, stay jealous… will forever be jealous of all the time not spent with Dean and his family…

Dean stills grin at him knowing finally that the angel does care about his own absence in Dean’s life. Dean holds their hands under the table with their knees pressing, their elbows nudging at each other's space. Dean makes him smile in those little moments they share.

So, he stays jealous.

Dean can convince him to stay and maybe one of those days he will with fear in his heart. Someday though, he’ll see Dean happy in his arms, see Dean in that dress, watch Dean enjoy his Thanksgiving without holding back his feelings. Stay by Dean’s side because that’s what he wants the most.

It wasn’t going to be their Last Holiday, not without Castiel inserted there somewhere right beside Dean.

END [in need of episode 14 haha]

AO3

#spnstayathome #destiel domestics in the kitchen #castiel in the bunker #casdean #destiel fluff #jealous cas #jealous dean winchester #coda episode #the last holiday #supernatural 15x14

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