#never near any family and were always moving never got to settle into proper stable place then father passed after long sad illness | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

silver-starlight-99 · 3 years

Text

Monsters at Work: The Jokester Generation Part Three: Life on the Other Side

There are many parents who’d call their child a miracle. For Liam and Noelle Rae however, they’d come to use that term in a somewhat literal sense. On the night when Mary Susanna Rae came into the world, her introduction wasn’t without… complications. The newborn’s breathing was irregular, her lips and fingers were a chilling blue hue, and she came out gasping instead of crying. The girl was showing signs of respiratory distress, and for the first-time parents, they were in a state of panic fearing their little girl wouldn’t make it through the night. Thankfully, doctors were able to get the newborn to an incubator at lightning speed. And, within a few days, little Mary Rae was stable enough to be returned to her exhausted, but overjoyed parents. She’d need to return a few more times to the hospital, to ensure things were running smoothly. But otherwise, the Raes were cleared to bring their daughter home.

Besides that little scare, little Mary Rae had a rather average infancy, with parents more than eager to smother their daughter in love and as many gifts they could buy. While Liam’s job as an insurance agent didn’t mean the family was rolling in money, he was more than willing to splurge where he could on his little miracle. And, to be fair, the mountain of baby toys, clothes and food they’d received as gifts from friends and extended family members meant the new parents didn’t have to worry as much about supplies for the first couple of months. In spite of all this love and support, there was always a twinge of fear in their hearts, one that had never fully gone away since their daughter’s rocky introduction to the world. While the hospital check-ins were completed, and the two were assured that there should be no further problems with Mary, it’s hard not to shake the fear of something going wrong with their little girl, something spontaneous, something they couldn’t prepare for. For Noelle Rae, this would occasionally lead her to spend nights in her daughter's room, wanting to be sure she could jump in the second something seemed off with her baby’s breathing. But as long as they kept her close and cared for, their fears would slowly start to wane.

By the time Mary was two, the Raes’ worries were nearly dissipated. Which was good, because this high-energy little lady was more than enough to keep them busy without anxiety about her breathing. The toddler would insist on chasing every cat or dog that she came across in hopes of petting it. She’d sing and dance herself to exhaustion with zero prompting. She’d given her parents more than their share of heart attacks during games of hide-and-seek where she accidentally led them to believe she’d escaped the house. Childproof locks in the Rae household were a must. Thankfully, it appeared Mary also inherited her mother’s artistic drive. If someone needed to keep her in place, just put some paper and a box of crayons in front of her and she’d stay still for a solid hour, perfecting each of her masterpieces. Sure, there were nights where Mary would insist on sleeping in their room. But hey, what kid didn’t go through a phase where they were terrified of a monster hiding under the bed or in the closet? As long as Noelle and Liam were able to be there for their girl, there was nothing they couldn’t handle… right?

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

It was an early Autumn morning when Liam Rae heard his wife’s cries. He rushed out of his room to find her frantically scrounging in a closet. According to Noelle, when she’d left to wake their daughter, she was nowhere to be seen. This wasn’t the first time little Mary had gotten up early to try and coax one of her parents into a game of hide-and-seek, so she wasn’t immediately worried. Of course, most games didn’t take over an hour with no sign of the toddler. Starting to worry, Noelle began calling out to Mary, then outright ordering her to come out of her hiding spot. With no daughter to be seen or heard, she began to check the closets and locked rooms, almost hopeful she’d accidentally forgot to lock a room and her baby was just snoring away somewhere. Soon, Liam joined in the search, with both parents entering a state of panic. By the time they’d turned their home inside out, no Mary in sight, and they triple-checked the front and back doors to ensure she couldn’t have gotten out of the house, they finally called the cops.

The rest of the day went by in a blur, a horrible, exhausting blur. Hours were spent in questioning with the police, along with calls out to every neighbor they knew, asking if any of them had seen their daughter that morning, or any suspicious people near the house. The police weren’t able to find any signs of forced entry. And upon re-examination with the parents, with the exception of a few missing blankets and toys, there was nothing that could be considered unusual about Mary’s room. It was as though the toddler had vanished into thin air. Leaving the Raes on the verge of a breakdown. After the initial interviews and investigations were completed, the parents were told it would take a few hours to finalize the missing-child report, leaving them to mull over the day’s events before the police could begin broadening their search. Despite the assurances and messages of support from their neighbors, it wasn’t enough to keep away the air of despair that followed the parents the rest of the day. After almost losing their little girl when she was born, they were facing a potential future where they may never see her again. And once again, there was nothing they could do. It gave Noelle flashbacks to Mary’s birth, the doctors rushing the newborn to get proper treatment. While the exhausted mother was in a state of delirium from the medications taken to help alleviate the pain, and confused terror as to why she couldn’t hold her daughter.

That following night was especially difficult for the couple, just trying to be there for each other as they cried themselves to sleep.

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

So imagine the shock they felt when Mary popped out of her room the following morning, right the f*ck outta nowhere, asking for a snack. What started as shock shifted to jubilation as Noelle and Liam held their daughter tight, checking her over for injuries through tear-filled eyes. Mary herself seemed fine, with no noticeable scratches or scars, not even a tear in her pajamas. But it’s clear something has happened to her. Her hair is disheveled and in need of brushing. There’s a distinct smell on the toddler, but one her parents can’t discern. She’s missing a sock. And still, the parents can’t find the missing blanket and toys. None of this makes any sense. But in the moment, their miracle is alive and safe, and they’re more than happy to revel in this moment of peace.

“And yes sweetie, Daddy will get you some Cheerios, just let us have this.”

Things however got a bit more complicated when it came to explaining things to the police. The Raes thought the missing toys should’ve been enough to prove that something was in their home and took their daughter. But as the police repeatedly explained, there wasn’t enough evidence to send an APB on someone who, for all intents and purposes, appeared and disappeared out of thin air.

Of course, evidence or not, this event had some crazy ramifications for the people of this quiet neighborhood. There were many families with young children that were suddenly fearful that someone could come for their own, and they’d be powerless to stop them. A lot of households were investing in extra locks and security systems. A Neighborhood Watch was established, but all it really seemed to do was stir up further anxiety and paranoia within the adults. There were those who believed the Raes fabricated the whole kidnapping in a sick ploy for attention. There were petty people who were using the situation as a means to place suspicion on neighbors they didn’t like. A curfew was attempted, but that just made the teens in the area grow restless, many sneaking out in defiance and putting further stress on the parents. What seemed like a quiet, easy-going suburbia was slowly devolving into one of suspicion and anxiety, with everyone trying to find someone they can put the blame on. Things only got worse when one Gabriella Harlin, through a long line of accusations, was discovered to have been laundering money from her job to pay for her family's many extravagances.

Some families were driven to move out because of the harassment they were facing on a daily basis. Time and time again the police were called in to deal with reports of vandalism. Eventually, even the local news caught wind of the chaos and began to ask people for interviews, the Raes especially since they were the ones considered to be the start of the whole situation. It would be months before the chaos would eventually die down, but enough damage was done that after the dust settled, things on Langdale Avenue were never the same. No matter how bad things seemed outside their home, Noelle and Liam Rae were facing something far more distressing inside.

Despite what the police had chosen to believe, something happened to little Mary Rae, and her parents were left to try and comfort their child in the aftermath of whatever she'd been through. No longer was the toddler crawling into their bed whenever she was having a bad night, now her mom and dad were finding her curled up in her closet, eyes with a tinge of red as though she’d been crying. Before, Mary would do the occasional doodle of a strangely-colored creature, but now she exclusively drew monsters and weird mish-mashes of animals. And some of them were… rather disturbing; Mary being chased by a giant spider-crab (Waternoose.) A green beach ball thing with horns screaming in pain (basically 80% of her interactions with Mike.) A purple salamander being beaten with a bat (Randall.) And most distressingly, a blue and purple bear-like monster called Kitty is being choked to death by long purple arms (Randall as he was trying to kill Sully before Mike stepped in with that snowball.) How do they know the monster’s name is Kitty? Because that’s the name she’s been repeating for the last few weeks, always asking where they were? The Raes were quick to make the connection between this strange creature and the girl’s disappearance, but there’s still so much of the full picture they didn’t know.

So yeah, between trying to take care of their daughter and having their neighbors and the local news going nuts outside their home, Liam and Noelle had their hands full for a few months. There was a very serious consideration to move to a new city, even if it meant money would be tight. But one of the things that held them back on this decision, once again, was their daughter. Despite her new habits and her occasional bouts of moodiness, Mary always seemed the most comfortable in her room. Something about the familiarity always seemed to soothe the girl. And Liam and Noelle could tell that in this period of madness, this little room of calm was something their kid needed more than ever. So they agreed to wait things out, but also thought it best to let Mary have some playdates with some of her cousins outside of town, so they could all enjoy a few hours of calm away from the chaos.

Thankfully, things eventually died down. Sure, things were still strained between neighbors, but by then, everyone’s name had been dragged through the mud at some point. So everyone that was left was willing to let bygones be bygones, just to try and return to some level of normalcy. Little Mary had become a bit more introverted since her return, but with time and care from her family, she would soon regain her old chipper attitude, even if she’d become wary around new people. But hey, after everything she’d seen her neighbors put themselves through, the Raes weren’t surprised that their daughter wasn’t as trusting around unfamiliar adults.

In the end, everyone wanted to put this whole affair behind them, and the Raes were more than happy to do so. When asked, Liam and Noelle would usually be as vague as possible in regards to Mary’s disappearance and the explosive aftermath of their neighborhood. To be fair, with as little unbelievable evidence as there was, it wasn’t too hard for either of them to skim over the details. And as their daughter’s attitude began to improve, the Raes also did their best to put her distressing past behind them. Afterall, no matter how much they may have yearned for an answer, little Mary simply wasn’t able to explain, and in a few years, it was likely the whole terrible affair would become a faded memory in the child’s mind. But Liam, always the one to try and think ahead, decided to hold on to some of Mary’s stranger doodles, while he and Noelle usually disposed of the others. Who knows? Maybe once their daughter was old enough to form sentences, something in her old drawings would be enough to spark a memory of what truly happened. But that was no longer important. What was important was that their daughter, their miracle, was alive and safe. And this time, with God as their witness, she was going to have as normal and loving a life as Liam and Noelle Rae could possibly provide, weirdness be damned! ~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Uh… hi

Ok, just a reminder, I was two when everything happened. So if you’re expecting a detailed account of my first time in Monstropolis, I’m probably not the person you want to hear from. Mike and Sully could probably do a better job at explaining how everything went down. But yeah, outside of a few nightmares, everything else just kinda turned into a blur for me. But what I do remember, after coming back home, was being sad. I love Kitty. I spent plenty of nights by my closet just wishing he’d come back, only to wake up without seeing him. It hurt.

And outside of that… I guess I was still causing trouble back then. Because my little disappearing act apparently caused the whole neighborhood to turn on itself. I know my parents and a lot of the older people there don’t want to talk about it, but come on; the local news was so desperate for a spicy story when they heard about people starting to throw dog sh*t at each other's doors, reporters were on us like a toddler to a stray piece of candy. I don’t remember much of it myself, but… you know that old Twilight Zone episode where the whole neighborhood goes batsh*t because they think one of them is an alien that’s messing with the power?

(Yeah, that's it!)

I like to think the whole affair was like that. I guess it makes me feel better about my part in everything. It’s easier to think things on Langdale Avenue went to sh*t because adults are a bunch of paranoid idiots, instead of blaming myself for getting lost in the first place. Maybe this is why mom and dad don’t like talking about it.

Anywho…

Ok, I told you I don’t remember much of what happened back then, right? Well, I definitely remember the day Sully came back.

I was about four and a half. It was a bit before I had to go to bed, so I was just playing with my toys. And suddenly, I heard my closet door creaking open. And who should pop out? James P. Sullivan himself. I remember giving him the biggest, tightest hug I could. And it felt so good to feel him hug me back. He pulled me through his side of the doorway, and I was a little surprised I wasn’t seeing the same scream floor I’d emerged from the first time. I didn’t really care about that at the moment, I was just happy to see Kitty again.

And… I guess that kind of became the new routine for us. Every other night when it was late, we’d just spend time with each other. It took some time for us to coordinate things to find a good time to meet. While time seems to pass at the same rate on both ends, I think my world’s a couple of hours behind that of the Monster world. But once we nailed down 11 O’clock as the best meeting time, me and Sully would hang out at least once a week. Sometimes I’d just show him some of my drawings, or just talk about whatever dumb thought came into my brain that day. Other times I’d bring in some toys from my room and we’d just play. Sully usually just went along with whatever I wanted to do, but he says he was fine with that.

Mike on the other hand, he was a bit harder to connect with at the start. We didn’t hang out as much as me and Sully, but when we did, it usually amounted to him showing off the stuff in his room. The door station was in his room after all. But that wound up being pretty fun too. I think it might’ve been here where my interest in baseball started. And let’s face it, Mike likes to put on a tough-guy attitude, but he’s a sweetheart deep down. There was this one night where I was having trouble sleeping, I don’t remember why, and he just sang me this lullaby he came up with on the spot.

undefined

youtube

And then, a little while later, Celia started popping by for our visits. The three of them decided to form a … I think the word for it is a throuple? Whatever the term, they were spending a lot more time together, so it makes sense that Sully would want us to officially meet. Things were kinda awkward at first; she might’ve known kids weren’t actually toxic, but it must’ve been weird either way to be so close to a human. But with Sully helping along with introductions, we wound up getting along pretty well. Mike even taught me how to braid her hair without, you know, accidentally choking her hair.

Since then, my nightly visits were becoming a regular part of my life, and one I looked forward to. They never lasted longer than about 10 minutes at a time, but I cherished them. Apparently since they had to steal the Scream cans to power the door station, they always had to conserve energy. Despite that, I couldn’t help but see these monsters as just another part of my family. Something that was getting progressively harder to explain as I was getting older. When a kid’s four or five, it isn’t too weird to hear them talk about strange beings as though they were real people; what kid didn’t have an imaginary friend phase? When you ask a kid to draw a picture of their family, you don’t really question the weirdly-colored creatures holding the little girl’s hand; she’s just being creative.

It’s when I got older that things started getting complicated.

By the time I was in… I think second grade? Yeah, by then I was catching on that I needed to start keeping things to myself. My parents were telling me, in the kindest way they could, that I was starting to get too old for imaginary friends. To be fair, I think a part of that was because I had gotten into 3 fights by then with other kids because they were telling me my monster family couldn’t be real. I’m not sure what got me to react so violently, and I don’t think that instinct ever went away. I just got better at hiding it around other people.

(...where was I going with this?)

(No I wasn’t!)

(No it wouldn’t! So f*ck off and let me tell my own d*mn story!)

<Alright, geez>

Ok, so, I was starting to act out, and I was finally catching on that others weren’t believing my monster story. Between all that stuff and what went down when I was 2, it was getting hard for a lot of the other parents to feel comfortable with me around their kids. The term “problem child” started getting thrown around, and that just made me more frustrated. Which made me more reliant on my time with Sully, which made me more frustrated that it just wasn’t safe for me to tell anyone the truth.

As I got older, it felt like I was seeing the Monster world less and less. Sully had big plans for his world, and they were taking up more and more of his time. By the time I was in fifth grade, we were meeting maybe once a month. It meant we had more time to talk, but it also felt like so much had to get crammed into the time we had. Me getting onto the baseball team. Mike and Celia tying the knot. Getting my first real friend. Sully meeting up with some kinda monster group for his plans to make Laugh power a thing. Saying goodbye before I spent my first summer away from home. Mike and Sully tying the knot, kinda. It was an unofficial ceremony where they just kinda shared vows and had a lot of cake from some fancy bakery. I actually got to attend that, since they were doing it in Mike’s room.

And… I’m not sure what else to say. Things pretty much kept on like that through high school, and even beyond that. Keeping this secret, it hasn’t been easy, But I can’t imagine a life without my family, all of it.

<… Uh, you’re kinda leaving out a lot of backstory stuff>

(I guess. But they’re not reading this to hear my entire life story)

(OKAY! That’s a little more than they need to know… I think. Who’s even reading this?)

(God, I gotta deal with enough people looking down on me back home. I don’t need a bunch of people online trying to dissect every little detail of my life. Are we done here?)

-Boo grinding her teeth in aggravation-

(…

Thanks Zowie. So… are we done here?)

<Yeah, I think we’ve done enough to leave ‘em hooked for the next chapter>

(And how much longer ‘till I actually get to be in this AU thing?)

<Uh, I don’t know. Silver says it might be another chapter of background stuff before we get things rolling with the real story. And then she still needs time to properly introduce Tylor>

…

(Oh God. Stay tuned folks, looks like it’s gonna be a while

Wait… I thought I was the protagonist of The Jokester Generation, who the f*ck is Tylor?)

#monsters at work #monsters inc #monsters at work: the jokester generation #au #fanfic #video #song #lengthy post #Youtube

7 notes · View notes

s-creations · 3 years

Text

Two Steps Forward

Panchito has a heavy question on his mind. Something that he's worried that could make or break this relationship with the two people he loves the most. But he has to ask.

Fandom: DuckTales 2017 / The Three Caballeros Rating: General Audience Relationships/Pairings: José Carioca/Donald Duck/Panchito Pistoles Additional Tags: Discussion of Marriage, MArriage, Struggling New Life, Living Together, Minor Discussion of Racism, And I Mean Minor, Nervous Discussion, Happy Ending.

Part of a Series Called: We’re the Three- Sorry, Six Caballeros!

Heads up for everyone! Please note in the tagging section, I have made mention of racism being present in this story. It's nothing super impactful overall, but more of a show of frustration and to act as a sort of barrier. It's nothing that should make anyone feel uncomfortable, but I still wanted to make mention of is at it's still there.

With that being said, please enjoy!

Panchito knew what he brought to their relationship. He was the more chipper out of the three. Always with a smile, the positive outlook on the situation, to offer a good laugh to lighten the mood. Most would assume he was a bit ‘simple minded’. That the attitude came from not knowing what was happening.

But if he wasn’t paying attention, how would he know when to cheer people up?

It was a subtle skill he held. One he’d developed and perfected over the years with having to deal with a large family. Taking in what was happening and finding a good resolution. Understanding what the best outcome would be to spare everyone emotionally. Something he was having difficulty figuring out for this current situation.

Even with him and José having full citizenship, there were still a number of obstacles they couldn’t figure out how to get over.

The parrot was the only one out of the three that held a proper job. It was easy to transfer his position from one airport to another. He still had steady hours and proper insurance. A good income that helped supply the household. But that’s pretty much where the ease stopped.

It seemed realtors and landlords were overly cautious about renting to anyone recently immigrated. Even if said person had a secured job. Even then, there weren’t that many options available to them that made the trio thrilled enough to move. It was expensive to live in the city. Or anywhere near it. Every place they were shown was just as cramped as the boathouse and in a worse state of upkeep. One place being more duct tape than actual building materials. It honestly wasn’t worth the move. All decided it would be better to do so when the other two found stable jobs to help with their income. Which Panchito hoped would be soon because the boathouse was very cramped now with the extra boxes.

But even getting a job was becoming a struggle for both him and Donald. The duck had the unfortunate issue of having a bit of a criminal record. His temper caused him to be tossed from a number of businesses and blacklisted as being someone who was unreliable. Which aggravated the other two to no end because they knew of Donald’s work ethic. The duck was more than reliable if given a proper chance. Which a lot of businesses didn’t feel the need to do.

For Panchito, he had the trouble of finding a performance company that didn’t treat his heritage like a novelty. He was a serious performer, not a trinket for people to patronize! He wasn’t meant to play for families who used his heritage as a theme. Playing songs from his childhood dressed in an overly offensive outfit while privileged families broke apart dollar store bought pinatas. He should be playing at cumpleaños and quinceañeras. To people who would actually respect his work. He was not a trinket!

After a month of searching, it was starting to become a trudge to find a job.

Another concern was the health coverage for the triplets. Even if hatching was a natural process, there were still a number of worries. Donald had the cheapest version of healthcare his non-income could provide. Which still left a lot of out of pocket expenses. José offered to help, to take the full burden. Only to have that shot down when the parrot was told he’s not a legal guardian to the eggs.

“But, we are helping care for the triplets and I am making the offer. How is that not enough?” José argued in disbelief.

Donald just shrugged and shook his head. “You’re not related to them, so it won’t be allowed. That’s just the bottom line. We’d have to get married before we could do anything about it.”

That caused Panchito to perk up at that. His mind rolling the idea of possible marriage around in his head.

He knew what the risk could be. Truthfully, the three hadn’t properly dated for a long time. Maybe only close to a year. Donald had left and returned to his family after a short while of them being together. A promise from him that he’d return after another year and they could continue to explore the world together. After a year, however, it became clear Donald wouldn’t be able to keep that promise. Even if the duck kept contact as best he could, it wasn’t the same.

They never truly ‘broke up’. But Panchito really questioned if they had started dating all those years ago. They loved each other. That was never a question. Confessions were shared and an understanding was created, but they never said they were in a relationship. It was sort of just a silent understanding between the three of them. What worried the rooster was the fact he was thinking of an offer that could scare the other two away. And that scared him to think he could lose Donald and José just as soon as they were together once again.

Donald was a wreck at the moment. No matter what the duck said to convince otherwise. He’d just lost his family, either to the stars or because he cut them out, and had taken in three eggs without questioning how hard it was going to be to raise them. Even with José and Panchito back in his life to help, there were still a number of things that Donald had to worry about. A suggestion of marriage, of another huge life event after losing so much, might cause the duck to shut down and turn away from them.

José, while having a very forward and suave personality in public, was actually reserved when only around Donald and Panchito. They were aware of the parrot’s past ‘relationships’. Which were honestly nothing more than numerous one night stands. He never talked about his family. Panchito could only conclude on his own that any relation the parrot could have with his parents was a negative one. The rooster was worried he and Donald were the first people to give José an actual loving relationship. Something as extreme and rather permanent as marriage might cause the parrot to run.

Even with the possible threat of losing two people he cared so much about, marrying was a thought that hadn’t left Panchito’s mind as days passed. A want that grew stronger with each night that passed with them pressed close in the hammock. The rooster resting in the middle. Donald tucked right under his chin with José using the red feathered chest as a pillow. Arms and legs tangled together and all covered by a well-worn quilt.

As he lays awake, eyes watching the night sky as it passes, Panchito knows he wants this. He wanted it, wanted them, and he never wanted to let go.

He was going to make sure it happened.

Panchito was an early riser. Skillful at slipping out between the other two and standing on the cold floor without making a noise. He waited a few moments to make sure the others remained asleep. Looking back to watch as Donald and José shuffled closer together to reclaim the warmth that had left. The duck wrapped every limp around the parrot, José muttering as he nuzzled under Donald’s chin. Panchito gave a small smile before collecting the eggs, wrapping them up with an overly fluffy blanket and moving them to the kitchen.

Once the eggs were settled and still on the kitchen table, Panchito flipped on the radio to let music chase the quiet away. Loud enough to be heard, but not enough to wake the others. With that set, he turned his attention to making breakfast. The small buffet of different dishes was near completion when Donald and José shuffled out from the bedroom. The duck looked more awake than the parrot. Both took a seat at the table to wait for the still cooking food. Donald talked gently to the eggs while José leaned against his hand, eyes closing again.

Panchito soon joined them. A plate put before each to let them take their needed fill of food. A quiet mumble of ‘Thanks.’ sounded before all started eating. His heart was hammering as he started to eat as well, knowing he needed the others to be a little more awake before broaching the subject.

Absolutely not stalling because he was terrified with where this could lead.

“Panchito? Are you okay? You are quiet this morning.”

The rooster was a little embarrassed at how far he jumped. Eyes darting up to José before flickering between him and Donald. “Uh, yes. I’m fine. Just...I have something on my mind?”

“Do you want to talk about it?” The duck asked this time.

Unsure of what to say, Panchito stalled for time by plucking at the small feathers on his fingers and wrist. Only for Donald to reach over and halt him.

“I want to get married.” Well, there goes all that subtly and structured argument he’d been trying to build up. Panchito felt his feathers ruffle in embarrassment, eyes darting down as the other’s exchanged looks of surprise.

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to ask like that.” The rooster groaned.

“What...brought this on?” Donald asked.

“I...just… We’ve been talking a lot about what we need to do to care for the eggs. And how it seems that we can’t move forward because our credit, or our finances, or that just being together doesn’t count as being ‘stable’. And you made a casual comment about being married would really benefit us. Which got me thinking about marrying you two and how much I really wanted to and I…”

Panchito exhaled slowly, leg bouncing as he squeezed Donald’s hands. “I don’t want to lose you two and I...I really like the idea of us marrying and I… I love you two, so much. I love the eggs and I want to give them the best. I don’t need or even want fanfare about it all. I just...I want...to marry...you two…”

With that, it fell quiet. Shoulders slumped as he leaned back into the padded seat. His eyes remained on the table, not wanting to see the other’s looks of possible disgust or rejection. It was such a poor argument (it wasn’t even an argument, he wasn’t sure what that rambling counted for) and he was already worried the other two weren’t ready for this. If they had been on the fence about this then Panchito did not win them over.

What was he thinking?

He couldn’t have been better prepared for this?

Make a list. Pros and cons to make his case. Why did he just dive head first into this? He’s such an idiot. No sane person just asks something so heavy and so suddenly. They were going to leave him because they’re going to realize how much of an idiot he was. He was going to lose them.

He felt so sick, he wanted to cry-

“I was honestly thinking the same thing.” Panchito’s head shot up so quickly José actually flinched. The parrot recovered quickly, giving a small smile before continuing. “I know it is a large step forward, but...I don’t want to lose you two. I want to spend the rest of my life with the both of you.”

José reached over to take a hand from both Panchito and Donald. “I wish to marry you two.”

Heart beating furiously, Panchito beamed and gave a gentle squeeze to the parrot’s hand. Both turned to face Donald who still looked stunned.

“Is this moving too fast?” the rooster asked worriedly, “I-I really didn’t want to push you-”

“No, no, you’re fine. It’s just…” Donald laughed softly, “People normally get on one knee to propose.”

“Oh, well, by all means. If we need to do this properly.”

“No, I was joking!” Donald laughed as Panchito slid from the booth. Making a large show of getting on his knee, flipping his crown back and setting his face as serious as he could. It didn’t help that Donald was laughing still, clearly flustered. “Donald Duck. José Carioca. Will you do me the great honor of allowing me to take your hands in marriage?”

“So salacious,” José smiled, “Did you even ask my father if he approved of this?”

“...I’d rather not. He scares me.”

Donald doubled over in laughter at that. The parrot playfully rolled his eyes as he sighed dramatically. “Well, I suppose that does not truly need to happen… Very well, I accept.”

“This is the strangest proposal that I’ve ever seen.” Donald wheezed.

Panchito pouted. “This is supposed to be serious and heartfelt.”

“I’m sorry! I’m sorry, hold on.” Taking a few deep breaths, the duck collected himself the best he could. Feathers still ruffled as he said, “I happily accept as well.”

Being mindful of the eggs resting nearby, Panchito clambered onto the table. Close enough to pull the other birds into a deep kiss. He wished he had enough room to dance and jump without the worry of breaking something important. Or that he could yell with joyful abandonment without disturbing the neighbors. But he was more than content with being squished between his fiancées as the sun fully rose into the sky.

They were married two weeks later. No fanfare, no family members physically present (Panchito’s family watched and cheered from a computer screen), they didn’t even bother with rings. All deciding it would be better to save up for a larger place to live.

The rooster didn’t want to say the written paper that officially announced their marriage was any sort of a good luck charm. But it seemed after said event, things started to look up. Panchito was able to get a ‘non-themed’ position with an entertaining business. A small company that catered to the minority families located in Duckberg and the surrounding towns. Donald eventually decided he would just be a stay at home parent. Knowing someone would need to keep an eye on the triplets once they hatched.

“We’ll save on babysitters this way.” The duck concluded with a shrug.

They were able to find a comfortable apartment next. Three bedrooms, two baths, and positioned perfectly in the suburbs near Duckberg. There was a bit of a commute, but one they were more than willing to put up with for the price of the place. There was a bittersweet moment when the boathouse was finally sold. José and Panchito recognized how hard Donald had worked to get a place of his own after the fall out. But it was forgiven and forgotten rather quickly when the money was spent on a large bed and three cribs.

“We’ll get a hammock when we buy a house.” José promised.

Donald laughed softly. “I’ll be fine with an actual bed for awhile. Shockingly, back support sounds more appealing.”

It took a few weeks to properly settle in. The big pieces of furniture were placed first, allowing for some semblance of a layout. José would be called away for a few days at a time, so Panchito and Donald focused on putting the smaller items in place when the parrot wasn’t there. The rooster was more than thrilled when he had an entire set of shelves for his heirlooms. While one of the rooms was specifically made up to be the nursery, Donald wanted the eggs to be nearby for the time being. One of the cribs having been set up in their large bedroom close to the bed.

“It’s just until they’ve hatched.” Donald concluded.

Panchito laughed softly. “Or until you feel okay with leaving them alone. Which will probably be never.”

“Shut up.”

They eventually fell into a comfortable routine. José was gone for most days but slipped into the others arms easily every time he returned home. Panchito and Donald kept all as orderly as they could at the homestead. The rooster content with his new career. Even if it wasn’t the record label he had always dreamed about as a child. He had a home, a job, and happily married to the two people he cared so much about.

When he woke early, before the sun had even started to crest over the horizon. Pressed against a clinging duck and parrot that were resting on either side of him. Eggs resting in the nearby crib being illuminated by a nightlight. Panchito would realize, with a watery smile and warmth in his chest, he wouldn’t change this for anything.

This was his new dream and he was happily living it.

#Donald Duck #Jose Carioca #Panchito Pistoles #jose carioca/donald duck/panchio pistoles #The Three Caballeros #the three gay caballeros #s-creations

29 notes · View notes

thelittleredheadedmusician · 4 years

Note

Halloween prompt: Alfred is getting increasingly annoyed at whoever is eating the halloween candy. No one will confess. (Bruce is sitting in a corner somewhere with a bag of... [insert Batfamily appropriate candy here])

Three Musketeers

Rating: G 1,844 words Gen AO3

Bristol was technically in Gotham City limits. Though the gilted mansions and private woods with pastures and stables seemed like a whole other world in comparison. The residents liked to think so too, especially because – despite Gotham’s robust public transportation system – it was almost impossible to reach the rich suburb from the city proper. It was because they lived in this separate world that Bristol’s wealthy residents often fought to receive special treatment or even secede from the city all together.

Except when it came to Halloween.

The residents of Bristol were more than happy to hold their trick-or-treat night during the same time as the rest of Gotham. Mostly, because it discouraged the city’s poorer residents from coming out to ask for literal handouts from them. The time it would take to sit in train stations and bus stops to get there ate up a large chunk of trick-or-treat’s two-hour window. And the walk from the last stop and between the houses took up the rest.

Despite all this, many made the trek out to Wayne Manor and its residents always made it well worth the work.

It was known that the Manor didn’t simply give out full-sized candy bars, no, they gave a whole bag of king’s sized bars. And from the entrance way to the ballroom off to the side were decked out and fitted to be a haunted house with games and entertainment and even more snacks. There was no reason to go anywhere else when you went to Wayne Manor.

Except, this year the seemingly endless supply of candy was mysteriously missing in the week leading up to the big night. Which was ironic considering the Manor was populated by detectives.

Alfred was suspicious. And annoyed. But mostly suspicious. He had raised the world’s greatest detective and then helped raise the current world’s greatest detective. In addition to the other seven vigilantes he’d actively cared for over the years. And countless others who hadn’t lived under his roof. Which meant that he was extremely hard to pull something over on. Extremely.

Yet, his stockpile of trick-or-treat candy was gone. Completely. And his list of suspects was long and skilled.

First, was Barbara because he loved the young woman dearly but she was a bit of a chocolate fiend. Also, if he could rule her out then he could enlist her assistance. It was easy enough to make her coffee just the way she liked and message her to come to the kitchen when she was working in the Cave one evening. She was happy enough to come up, thinking it was just for a chat but knowing something was up when Alfred passed her the mug.

They studied each other from across the long wooden table that took up the far side of the kitchen. Alfred sipped his tea from the good china that after the last family debacle was his alone to use. Barbara narrowed her eyes as her glasses slipped down her nose. They were playing a high stakes game of chicken and they both knew it.

Barbara broke first. “Is there something you wanted to talk about, Alfred?” she asked sweetly, setting her coffee down and pushing her glasses back up in the same movement.

“Now that you mention it, yes. I was wondering if you happened to know where my trick-or-treat supply is disappearing to?” Alfred’s lips turned up in kindness, but his eyes were hard and steady as he held her gaze.

An adult, a seasoned crimefighter, an honest to god superhero and yet Barbara wanted to wriggle in her chair, knot her fingers in the hem of her t-shirt, under that look. Pure willpower was the only thing that stopped her. Though it didn’t extend to her mouth. “No, I’ve been out of town most of the week.”

This was true, Alfred knew, but not necessarily an airtight alibi.

“Besides,” Barbara continued, “I have a Costco card. The Birds and I split it. If I wanted to eat a whole bag of candy, I’d just buy my own.”

Alfred nodded, lifting his tea to take another sip. He accepted that answer, she knew better than to lie to him. “In that case, might I enlist your skills to uncover the real culprit?”

This was what Alfred had truly wanted to ask, they both knew, and Barbara smiled in delight at the prospect. “I’d love to.”

The next suspect was Tim. He knew exactly how to cover his tracks and misdirect their attention. Tim was sly, smart, and still technically a teenaged boy so sugar was irresistible. Barbara set the trap, crashing the Batcomputer one afternoon when everyone else was out. This forced Tim up, out of the Cave and to Alfred lying in wait in the kitchen.

Tim had climbed up onto a kitchen chair to get at the stash of poptarts on the top shelf of the cabinet above the stove. Proving that he had means, motive, and a record.

“Master Timothy,” Alfred drawled as he stepped out of the shadows. Bruce had to learn the skill from somewhere.

Startling, Tim whirled around and nearly fell from the chair. Dropping the silver packet in the process. It landed on the tile with a crunch. “Look I need the brain power to get the computer back up,” he said hastily, glancing guiltily between Alfred and the fallen junk food.

“I am not here to reprimand you about the poptarts,” Alfred said and Tim immediately relaxed, shooting him a relieved little grin. “But I may have to reprimand you for sneaking something else,” Alfred continued, causing Tim’s face to fall.

“I swear, I only had the one Monster the other week. And I split it with Kon ‘cause we were trying to keep Bart from drinking it. Me and him on an energy drink bouncing round the Tower is way better than a speedster on an energy drink.” Tim’s eyes were wide and the blood that had drained from his face made the boy almost impossibly paler.

Alfred lifted an eyebrow at the confession. Not what he was looking for but good to know all the same. “And what of the candy for trick-or-treat?”

Tim’s brows drew together in confusion. “Uh, I don’t know? I suggested we get milkyways but if you got snickers again then I’m not going to complain.”

“So, you did not eat the supply?” Alfred confirmed, though the fact that Tim was already feeling guilty and hesitant to lie on top of the fact that he had no idea Alfred had purchased boxes of three musketeers cleared him of the crime.

“No?” Tim shook his head as he shrugged.

Satisfied, Alfred nodded. “Enjoy your poptarts, Master Timothy. I shall be moving them shortly.”

“It wasn’t Jason,” Barbara said over the phone. “I have a couple different angles of him being in Paraguay all last week.”

“I never suspected him to begin with,” Alfred admitted as he pushed the shopping cart, restocking for the big night tomorrow. “He never liked three musketeers. Dark chocolate kit-kats are a separate story.” He smiled at the memory of a young Jason carrying a huge box of the candy bars to drop in the cart during his first Halloween with them.

“Cass and Dick are out too,” she continued. “Cass laughed at me when I even suggested it and then confirmed Dick was telling the truth when I questioned him.”

Alfred hummed. Richard had been his next guess, though he was more likely to take them to hand out while on patrol or pass on to his friends’ children than to eat himself. “Master Damian is innocent as well. He scoffed at the implication he would, quote, ‘stoop so low as to steal candy from children.’ He also vouched for Master Duke and neither were anywhere near the spare pantry recently to begin with.”

“Security cameras confirm that.”

“That leaves Miss Stephanie,” Alfred frowned. Stephanie tended to decline any offers of assistance from the Manor’s residents that weren’t directly related to masked vigilantism. Though she recently had allowed Alfred to slip her gas money when she visited during daylight hours. The thought of her taking the Halloween candy just did not sit right with him. It was almost as impossible to imagine as Damian taking it. Cassandra was more likely to be playing a trick on them all, having hidden it for some soon to be revealed reason. “Are you positive Miss Cassandra is not the culprit?”

Barbara chuckled. “I mean, not really. But at the same time why would she? Though why would Steph either? I don’t think it was either of them but I can vouch for Steph. She hasn’t been anywhere near the Cave or the Manor since last month. What with school she’s been staying close.”

“Which leaves us back to the beginning,” Alfred sighed and got in line. “We could create a sting operation though I’d loathe to lose this supply as well. There’s nearly no candy left in the entire state.”

“That I believe. Alright, I’ve got the feed from the events kitchen running on one of my screens. I’ll keep an eye on it for the rest of the night, see if anyone stupid enough to try it again.”

“Thank you, Miss Barbara. I really appreciate your assistance in this matter,” Alfred told her before exchanging their goodbyes. He had plans for a little stakeout of his own.

Placing the boxes in the spare pantry, Alfred settled himself on a stool next to the industrial fridge in the dark. He typed out a careful message in the family’s groupchat informing them all that the missing candy had been replaced and politely asking that it not disappear again before the next night. They would all be getting ready to go out for the night so there is no doubt they would see it. And he would have plenty of time to wait for them to strike.

Hours later, the family was returning and Alfred was still lying in wait. A creak echoed in from the ballroom where decorations were mostly in place. The light padding of rubber soles on the marble tile came closer and closer. Alfred leant further back into the shadows as the door swung open. He held his breath, waiting as the guilty party walked into the kitchen proper, headed directly towards the pantry. Alfred slipped from his hiding spot, keeping low as he crept around the island to come up behind the culprit.

Alfred contained his gasp of shock and annoyance as he flipped on the light. Forcing the candy thief to whirl on him. “Master Bruce!” Alfred scolded. He hadn’t thought his first charge would do such a thing and hadn’t even considered him as a suspect.

Having the good sense to look ashamed and like a ten-year-old boy again, Bruce offered a wavering grin in apology. “You bought three musketeers,” he said as his only defense.

Alfred frowned as he crossed his arms. “And your penance will be handing them out tomorrow night.”

50 notes · View notes

queerbutstillhere-writes · 4 years

Text

Fantasy(Medieval) AU

The day Kon had been knighted had been probably the proudest moment of his life. Sure, the long ass prayer hadn’t exactly been the highlight of his evening, but he’d gone from a squire, being called boy or just Conner, to Sir Kent and honestly that was pretty cool, even if he now got mixed up with Clark a lot. It didn’t help that they looked nearly identical, Kon was just younger.

He couldn’t wait for the day Jon was also a knight. Having three Sir Kent’s would be so worth it, just to watch Clark twitch.

He had two blissful weeks of being freshly knighted, running around, partying and causing havoc, while also following the knight code, and then he had been contacted. By the King, no less. He had been summoned to the royal castle - which was admittedly, only in the next town over - to receive a royal assignment. He didn’t know what the hell it was going to be, but it must’ve been important. Why he, a brand new knight, and just 18 at that, was chosen, he had no idea, except for maybe his relation to Clark.

So he had packed up his things, said goodbye to his family for the foreseeable future, and saddled up his horse, heading up to the castle, Krypto trotting or running alongside him as they rode. It was stupid hot, and of course he had to chose to set out in the middle of the afternoon. Between the hot sun beating down on him and the fact that he had worn his armor - don’t ask him why - he was a sweaty mess by the time he reached Gotham Castle.

He wasn’t given any time to wait, just had his horse snatched from him by a stable boy and then was led deep into the castle, to what appeared to be an office waiting room. He was deposited by the servant girl, who he may have been flirting with, inside the waiting room in front of a desk with a middle aged, grumpy looking man.

“Who are you?” He grumbled, barely glancing up from where he was scratching away at a ledger.

“Sir Conner Kent, I have summons from the king.”

Conner held out the envelope. The man glanced at it, the broken seal on the back and then up at Conner. He grunted, pointing at a chair with his quill.

“Go sit down, I’ll let him know you’re here.”

Conner turned and sat down in one of the two wooden chairs against the wall, letting his bag thump to the floor beside him. The old man gave him a grumpy look, writing for another moment before putting down his quill and standing, slipping through the doors. Conner tapped his fingers on his knees as he waited, looking out the open window, out into the castle courtyard.

Gotham Castle was a huge, beautiful, but intimidating structure. She was built out of fairly dark stone, and stood at an impressive height, but judging from how high all the ceilings seemed to be, there likely wasn’t that many floors inside the castle itself. There were, of course, the towers, which stood several floors taller than the main structure, with their high peaked roofs and rippling flags. There were huge courtyards and gardens in the middle of everything, and turn out pastures for the horses, still within the castle walls. Just down the hill from the huge castle was Gotham proper, the sprawling city in better shape now, under King Bruce’s rule, then it had ever been before in history.

“Sir Kent, he’s waiting.”

Kon hopped up and started to grab his bag.

"You can leave that there," the attendant said, waving his hand to dismiss Kon's current course of action. "And the dog will have to stay."

He dropped the bag, ordered Krypto to stay, and headed to the door, his thumbs in his sword belt, armor clinking uncomfortably as he walked. He paused at the door and let the attendant step in and announce him.

"Your royal highness, Sir Conner Kent."

Conner stepped the rest of the way into the office and looked around, noting it to be an alarmingly cluttered space. The windows were open, allowing a soft breeze in. The office was crammed with book shelves, cushioned benches, a dining table that was stacked with papers and scrolls. There was a rather large fireplace against one wall, the mantel overflowing with paintings and knickknacks and other assorted items.

At the large wooden desk, which was shoved back towards one corner also covered in papers and books, was an older gentleman, his black hair streaked with white, and his beard nearing more grey than black. He was wearing an off gray linen shirt, the sleeves pushed up past his elbows, and black breeches. A golden crown had been plopped down onto his desk, and he glanced up, dark blue eyes meeting Kon's, and a tired smile slid onto his features.

Sitting on one of the cushioned benches, curled up against the armrest was a younger man, reading from a book. Kon noted a permanent ink stain on his right hand between his middle and ring fingers. His hair was longer than the older man's, nearly down to his shoulders, and was currently half pulled back, so it was out of his eyes at least. He was wearing a red shirt, black pants, and brown riding boots.

"Sir Kent," the older man said, standing, and Kon knew this to be King Bruce Wayne.

"Your majesty."

Conner immediately bowed, keeping in his low bow for a few seconds.

"It's a pleasure to finally meet you." Bruce stepped around the desk and held out his hand. "I swear Clark talks about you almost as much as he talks about Jon."

"I think that's impossible, your majesty. I swear he never shuts up about that kid."

Bruce just grinned, moving to lean against the desk once they had shaken hands.

"Sir Kent, my son, Tim."

Conner turned to the Prince behind him and bowed again. He knew quite a bit about the royal family, due to his attachment to Clark, but he'd never met them. Timothy Drake-Wayne was Bruce's second youngest, and apparently a dashing young man. The prince smiled tiredly and waved, before looking back at his book. Conner turned back to Bruce.

"Well, I suppose we should get to business." Bruce walked around the desk again and sat down. "I called you out here because I have a bit of a job, that I feel like you'll be perfect for."

"What is it, your majesty? I'm happy to serve."

Bruce smiled lightly. "I figured as much. I need you to act as a protection detail for young Tim there."

Conner glanced behind him again, and caught Tim looking at him. The Prince quickly looked away again.

"Of course, your majesty. . . Might I ask what I'm protecting him from?"

"Let's call it an old family enemy, of his parents, and of myself, has decided to specifically target Tim after he refused an offer of an alliance with this man. He's tried multiple assassinations, and almost been successful more times than I'm comfortable with. The normal castle guards aren't trained for this, and as much as I appreciate our knights, they're not quite as spry as they once were."

"Of course. What will all my duties be?"

They spent the next five minutes going over every single aspect of Conner's new job, and by the end of it, he was a knight in the employment of the Royal Family.

He was shown a set of rooms by a servant, got to freshen up, and then headed to diner with the Wayne's.

......

After a week of tailing Prince Timothy Drake-Wayne around, Kon had gotten settled with the Wayne's. But mostly Tim. He was a fairly quiet guy, not because he didn't have anything to say or was too shy to say it, but because he spent most of his time observing his surroundings. Originally it had creeped Kon out, because Tim had spent most of his free time watching Kon, but now he almost appreciated it, having watched Tim work as an advisor to Bruce, and having witnessed him helping quite a few village people just because he had observed a situation and been able to stop it.

When he wasn't doing this mildly creepy observation thing, Tim was generally reading or writing. He had this huge book that he was about two-thirds through, and nearly always had it in hand. He was wildly creative, and while Kon had only had the pleasure of hearing a few of his writings, he was pretty damn good at it.

One thing he had not been expecting, was Tim's servant boy. This little ginger teenager, who ended up actually being Tim's age, was almost always with Tim. He was a little ball of energy and chaos and happiness. He was like sunshine, and Kon found himself being eager to spend time with him whenever possible, laughing and grinning with him. The boy, Bart Allen, was a whole head shorter than Kon, he had wild, auburn hair, that was more poof then not, and hazel eyes that were so light they looked golden.

For the first week, Kon had spent nights in his own set of rooms, attended to by some of the castle maids. And then on his ninth night there, there was an attack. Kon had just been leaving Tim's rooms for the night, when he heard a crash from the room behind him, and then shouting. He spun on his heel and sprinted back to Tim’s room, bursting through the door, which luckily was not locked yet, and found Tim pinned to the floor, a dark figure over the top of him, holding a knife. Kon had easily fought off that attacker, but the incident had led them to their current situation, which was Kon, moving all his bags to Tim’s room.

The room itself was fairly big, as big as Lois and Clark’s downstairs, but it was separated into two parts by a dividing wall, Tim’s bed hidden away behind the wall, the door to the privy tucked away, out of view unless you were really looking for it. Most of the room was filled with bookshelves, and there was a table that mostly served as a writing desk. There was a small, connected servants quarters, that was Bart’s strangely neat living space, though he seemed to spend a lot of his freetime hanging out with Tim, for whatever reason. But Kon, since he was Tim’s protection detail, had a bed set up in the corner of the main room, opposite Tim’s, though most of his things were being stored in the servants quarters, or at least, he assumed that’s why Bart had snatched them away unceremoniously the second he had set them down.

Tim didn’t seem bothered by this new development, just vaguely waved his hand around the room and said “Make yourself at home” and then returned to his book. So Kon did, set up a nice little miniature living space around his bed with what supplies he had, and settled in. Krypto had quite happily made himself at home on Kon's bed as well.

“Sir Kent.”

Kon jolted slightly, looking up from the sock he had been attempting to mend.

“Uh, Yes?”

“Why don’t you let me do that,” Bart offered, holding out his hand.

Kon hesitated. He wasn’t useless, Lois taught him how to mend his own things, and he was perfectly capable of doing so. Granted, he wasn’t the best at it, his big hands made it a little less neat then Lois could sew, but he got by. But this cute servant boy was holding out his hands expectantly, so Kon shrugged and passed it over. Bart plopped down beside him on the bed, tucked his feet up under his legs, and started sewing away, fingers practically flying over the hole in the sock, fixing it faster then Kon could have ever done. He looked up and found Tim fully invested in a book.

“So, how long have you been a servant for him?” Kon asked softly, turning to face Bart a little better.

“Oh, the past three or four years? I don’t remember really.”

“Wow. How old were you when you started?”

“Uh. . . Thirteen.”

“That’s a while.”

Bart looked up and smiled, then looked back down at the sock. But Kon, Kon was absolutely floored by that gorgeous smile. Bart gave it away so freely, to everyone, but this specific smile had felt . . . special. Which was odd, considering the reason for it. Krypto looked up from the floor and whined.

“There you go!” Bart quickly tied off the string and cut it, holding the mended sock out to Kon. “In the future, just bring me anything that needs repaired, and I’ll fix it right up!”

“Thank you!”

Bart flashed that blinding, beautiful smile at him again.

“Of course!” He hopped up and twirled to Tim. “I’m gonna go get lunch!”

“Okay, Bart,” The Prince replied without looking up.

“Any special requests?”

“I’m not terribly hungry.”

“Okaay dokeeey! Sir Kent?”

“For you to just call me Kon?” Kon asked, with a bit of a flirtier smile then he had intended. . . . or, well, maybe he had intended it.

Bart blinked at him, then grinned sheepishly. “Okay. Kon it is.”

Bart slipped on a pair of shoes and then disappeared out the door.

“He’s quite the bundle of energy.”

Tim looked up from his book finally, just looking at Kon for a moment before responding. “He’s a good person. And a very loyal friend. I’m lucky to have him.”

“You two do seem awful close.”

“I’ve known him since we were little, so I should hope so.”

“How’d he end up as your servant then?”

“His Uncle, Barry, is one of Bruce’s servants, so he sometimes ended up tagging along for whatever reason, and we became friends that way. He needed a job for personal reasons, and I happily offered."

“That’s kind of you.”

Tim tilted his head. “What did you want me to do? Let him go panhandling or working in the fields?”

“No. I’m just saying, not many nobility I’ve met would do something like that for someone like him.”

“What is that supposed to mean, Sir Kent?” Tim’s voice was clipped and defensive, and he had fully set his book down.

“. . . I think that came across wrong. I’m meaning. . . not many nobility would help a peasant like that.”

Tim’s eyes narrowed, and then he shrugged. “Maybe not. But I’m not most nobility, am I?”

“No. In many ways.”

They went silent, and Kon had this distinct feeling that he may have edged a little further onto Tim’s bad side.

That evening, when Tim was at dinner with his family - a safe time in which Kon didn’t have to be around him - he found himself in Tim’s rooms with Bart, who was humming to himself as he picked up, organizing books and papers, refilling Tim’s inkpot, changing linens, those types of things. And then they just started chatting, about anything and everything. Kon found out that Bart had lived with these two elderly farmers named Jay and Joan Garrick for most of his childhood, sometimes living with his uncle, Barry Allen, as his parents had both died when he was little. His trips to the castle with Barry, was indeed how he befriended Tim, and they were actually really close. Kon actually ended up finding out more about Tim through Bart, then he ever did from Tim himself.

By the time Tim returned from dinner, Bart had plopped himself down on Kon’s bed, his knees touching Kon’s thigh as they chatted animatedly.

“Good to know you two get along, this certainly won’t cause troubles for me,” Tim said, with a tired, but fond smile.

“Aww, Timmmm, we’re just getting to know each other a little better,” Bart said, looking up at him and grinning.

Tim walked over and plopped down on the bed, leaning forwards so he was leaning against Bart’s back, causing the smaller teen to groan and lean into Kon, who just chuckled and held them both up.

“I’m exhausted. Damian was being a little shit again and Dick wouldn’t shut up,” Tim groaned, moving so his head was on Bart’s shoulder, and he could look up at Kon as well.

“Aw, I’m sorry. I thought he was doing better?”

“He was. And then he saw Talia this weekend and it’s like someones stuck nails in his ass.”

Bart giggled, reaching around to wrap Tim’s arms around his stomach, rocking them slightly.

“Hmm, sometimes I wonder why your dad lets him go visit her.”

“Because she’s not with Ra’s anymore, that’s why. And because he’s still weak as hell for her.”

Bart was grinning at Tim, and Tim had his eyes closed as he laid against Bart’s back, practically plastered against him. They looked comfortable and natural like that. They looked . . . happy. Then something clicked for Kon.

“Wait. Ra’s? Like the maniac who’s trying to kill you?”

Tim looked up, frowning. Bart also frowned, but down at his lap.

“Yeah. . .”

“And . . . who’s this Talia lady?”

“Damian’s mom.”

Kon scowled. Something here wasn’t adding up. Tim sighed and closed his eyes once more, putting his head against Bart’s.

“Damian is Ra’s grandson. Bruce and Talia fell in love long ago, and I don’t think I need to give you the Talk , but not long after they split, Damian was born. We- Bruce only got custody of him a few years back. And I know what you’re thinking, but Damian is a good kid, and he doesn’t like Ra’s. He hates his grandfather.”

Kon just looked at Bart, who shrugged faintly, causing Tim’s head to shift. Kon stayed silent, digesting this information. It was certainly a lot to take in.

“You wanna go to bed early then?” Bart asked quietly, finally breaking the awkward silence.

“No, I want to go for a ride. Do you want to come with me?” Tim answered softly.

“Of course!” Bart exclaimed, grinning.

Tim opened his eyes and looked up at Kon again. “I’d ask, but it seems you don’t have a choice whether you come or not.”

Kon chuckled, pushing Bart off of him so he could stand. “It does appear that way, doesn’t it?”

After three weeks of tailing Tim and, consequently, Bart around, Kon had settled into their way of life quite easily. They had a pretty steady pattern to their days, and soon Kon had figured out times when he was needed and when he could go do things like train or nap or have a little bit of personal time. There were still the occasional attempts on Tim, though usually they were fairly random and small, and there hadn’t been any direct attacks in his living quarters since the first one after Kon arrived. But he wasn’t relaxing his guard yet, not until they were sure Tim was safe. Not that Tim couldn’t defend himself, Kon had seen him training with his older brother, Richard, but he had been hired for a job and intended to fulfill it.

After three more weeks of tailing Tim, Kon had become pretty certain of one thing. And that one thing was that he was pretty sure Tim and Bart were romantically involved with each other, dating, whatever the word for it was. It was pretty obvious, in Kon’s opinion. Hell, a lot of nights, they slept in the same bed together. They walked around holding hands and leaning on each other and grinning at each other, and just acting cute and coupley. And he was totally fine with this.

So fine with it.

He wasn’t sad about it all.

Except he was.

Because he may have fallen for Bart a bit. And Tim was really pretty and Kon also really liked him. And he was screwed because of this. Because they were probably dating each other, and Kon was just the bodyguard, third wheeling his way through life.

An interesting fact, Kon had learned over the past few weeks, was that Tim got nightmares, pretty frequently. And somehow, Bart had like this sixth sense about when Tim was having these nightmares, and would just appear at his bed and wake him up out of it, and then they would lie there, Bart softly singing until Tim drifted back to sleep. That was another thing about Bart. He sang and played the lute. And he was amazing at it. Kon could sit there and listen to him sing for hours. Bart the Bard, Tim called him occasionally, and Bart would just giggle and give him a lovesick smile and continue on playing.

Kon wasn’t going to say anything to either of them, after all, he’d either get over it, or be dismissed from his guard duties eventually, so why was it worth bringing up? It wasn’t. He was fine leaving it be. After all, it wasn’t the first time he’d fallen for someone he couldn’t have, but he was mature enough to know to not pursue someone.

But one day, he was sitting in Tim’s room with Bart and Krypto while Tim was off with his family. Bart was tuning his lute, humming softly as he worked, and Kon had been reading, but had given up after a while, to just stare vaguely in Bart’s direction, listening to the plucking as he made sure it was in proper tune.

“What’s got your head in the clouds, oh brave Knight?”

“Huh? Oh.” Kon fully focused on the bard, and found him leaning on his lute slightly, grinning at him. “Nothing. Lost in thought?”

Bart chuckled. “What were you thinking about?”

Quick! Come up with a lie!

“Home, I guess. Wasn’t really thinking about anything in particular.”

A soft hum came from Bart, and he walked over, sitting next to Kon, Krypto immediately stretched his big white head over Kon’s lap to receive pets.

“Got anyone special back home, Sir Kent?”

“Dating wise? No. . . My little brothers are back home though.”

“Oh? Are you the oldest?”

“Kind of? It’s a weird situation.”

“Trust me, if anyone understands that, it’s me,” Bart said with a smile.

Kon chuckled. “What about you? Got anyone special?” he asked, lightly nudging Bart.

“Oh. . .Uh, No.”

Kon raised an eyebrow. “Really, I thought you and. . .” He gestured vaguely around the room.

“Tim?” Bart asked, eyes going huge. “No. Nonono, we’re not- . . . no it’s not like that.”

“Huh. . . interesting, you guys just kind of act like you’re together.”

“No, I mean, it’s not that I wouldn’t-” Bart stopped and sighed. “It’s complicated.”

Kon frowned softly and put a hand on Bart’s knee. “It’s okay, I’ve been there.”

Bart looked up at him with a scowl. “I don’t need your pity, Kon.”

“It’s not- No, I didn’t mean it like that.”

Bart just shrugged and looked down at his lute. Kon let silence hang for a bit. Should he? I mean, his obstacle had just been removed, why not shoot his shot?

“Do you wanna go out for dinner or drinks or something tonight, while Tim is with his family?”

Bart stopped playing, and sat there for a moment before looking up at Kon, blinking. Then he grinned.

“Sir Kent, are you asking me out on a date?”

Conner smiled and shrugged. “And what if I am?”

“Well then, I might just have to say yes. But only if it’s a date.”

“Well it’s a good thing it was a date, then, isn’t it.”

Bart giggled. “We’ll have to make sure Tim really is going to be eating with his family, but probably yes.”

Kon grinned. “Fantastic.”

That evening, once they were excused by Tim, they got dressed and headed down into Gotham proper, chatting and laughing the whole way down. They found an inn that was serving some good stew for dinner and wasn’t terribly full, and spent a little bit of time there, just enjoying themselves. And when they got back to the castle, with time still to spare, Kon whisked Bart away to the gardens, finding a little secluded spot so they could sit down in private. They just talked for a while longer, Bart sitting on the back of their bench so he could play with Kon’s hair. And then he leaned down and kissed Kon.

Kon didn’t hesitate to push up against him, hand on his knee to help support himself, due to the slightly awkward angle.

"There they are, Timothy."

"You two having fun?"

Bart yanked away from Kon and tumbled backwards, right off of the bench. Kon yelped and dove after him, but only managed to snag his ankles, unable to prevent him from falling into the bush behind them. He looked up to find Tim and his youngest brother, Damian, standing nearby with a couple of guards. Damian looked annoyed, but Tim had this mildly amused, mostly closed off look.

"Uh, hi," Kon said, then turned back to Bart, reaching down and grabbing him by the arms, hauling him back up over the back of the bench.

Bart tumbled into Kon, giggling, even as his face turned bright red. They quickly picked leaves off of him, and then Bart sat up, looking at Tim.

"You startled me."

"I noticed."

Bart hopped up, brushing a few more leaves off.

"Are you okay?" Kon asked, standing as well, eyeing Bart.

"Yeah, I'm fine."

"Didn't hit your head?"

"Nope!"

"Now that you have your . . . " Damian trailed off, giving them a look of contempt. "Whatever. I'll be going."

Damian spun on his heel and walked away, followed by the guards. Tim just looked at them, shook his head and turned to walk away. Bart scurried after him, and Kon? Kon just sighed softly and followed, feeling a little annoyed that they had been interrupted.

But it was fine. At least now he knew how Bart felt.

......

After another two weeks, Kon was finding himself with another issue. See he had been dating Bart this whole time, and was quite happy with it. He and Bart got along amazingly, and Bart was . . . hot damn. Bart was something else. Kon could spend hours kissing him without complaint. Well, he actually couldn’t, because they both had jobs to do, and Bart wasn’t comfortable with kissing around Tim, which was understandable. And frankly, neither was Kon.

Because he was still crushing on Tim, even though he was pretty much dating Bart.

So yeah. He had a problem. Because he wasn’t about cheating on Bart, but at the same time. . . Tim. Tim was gorgeous and kind and smart. He and Kon had become fairly good friends, over the time he had spent as his bodyguard, and it was nice, because they could now just sit and chat or be together in comfortable silence, unlike in the past, when they would sit there in awkward silence, trying to figure out what to say to the other. And Kon wasn’t dumb, he could see Tim eyeing him, watching him, zoning out while staring at him. But he knew Tim would also never try anything as long as he was with Bart. Tim was too loyal for that.

“Bart.”

“Hmm?”

Kon rolled onto his back, looking over at Bart, who was in the middle of folding laundry. It was one of those odd days that Kon got off, as Tim was completely surrounded by his family and their various bodyguards.

“I need to tell you something,” Kon said with a sigh.

He decided it was best if he was just honest with Bart. Then at least Bart could keep him accountable or something. . . . Hopefully he wouldn’t be too upset.

“What’s up?”

“Would you come sit down?”

Kon pushed up into a sitting position, and Bart set down the pair of trousers he had just folded, turning and walking over, sitting on Kon’s lap, arm around his shoulders.

“What’s wrong?” Bart asked, tilting his head, looking concerned.

“I . . . Don’t want to hurt you, but I think you should know?”

Bart pulled back some, his scowl becoming even more concerned.

“I think . . . I think I have feelings for Tim,” Kon said softly, then rushed to continue. “But I don’t intend to do anything about it! I like you! I like being with yo-”

“Wait,” Bart said, holding up a hand, effectively silencing Kon.

Kon blinked at him, feeling worry rising in him in the form of bile in his throat. Bart was silent for a moment, then he started grinning.

“Kon. Kon. Conner!”

“Uh, What?”

“Do you realize what this means!?”

“Uh? No?”

“I’ve had a crush on Tim since I was like, eight! And I’m almost completely sure that Tim has had a crush on me for nearly that long, and that he has one on you now!!!”

“Bart-”

“I can work with this!” Bart exclaimed cheerfully and jumped up.

“Bart, what are you planning?!” Kon exclaimed, feeling more panicked now.

“I’m gonna ask him if he wants to date both of us!”

Bart had already returned to folding clothes, and Kon was left there, staring at Bart’s ass.

“Wait, you’re going to what? ”

“I mean, if you’re okay with it, I suppose? Sorry I should have asked first. . .”

“No it’s-” Kon hesitated, taking a moment to think about it.

He wasn’t . . . Not okay with it? But it was a strange concept to him. . . dating two people at once. A lot of people would consider that to be cheating. Hell, normally Kon would even consider that cheating, but. . .

“Wait so. . . all three of us? Dating each other?” Like I’m dating you and him, and you're dating him and me, and he’s dating you and I?”

“Yeah!”

“And that’s not . . . cheating?”

“Nope, it’s just like dating normally, but this time there’s two people you’re dating, instead of just one.” Bart stopped folding and looked back at Kon. “It’s not a terribly popular thing, and I know why. . . but, it can be the best thing on the planet.”

Kon didn’t respond, so Bart returned to his folding. And they sat there in silence for ten minutes until Bart finished folding and climbed into Kon’s lap so they could start kissing.

“I think . . . If you wanna ask him,” Kon said, after pulling back a bit. “Then ask him. But please don’t make him uncomfortable.”

Bart just grinned and immediately leaned in to kiss him again. “I’ll ask him, privately, later.”

Kon could tell the moment Bart had asked. He had been bathing, and when he got back, they were yelling at each other. Bart and Tim never yelled at each other. . . Okay well it was mostly Tim yelling, and Bart was trying to reason with him. It was clearly not going well, and the moment Kon closed the door, Tim whirled on him.

“And you!” Tim all but thundered. “How could you put him up to this!? Is this some kind of joke to you!? Does your relationship with him really mean that little!?”

“Uhhh,” Kon wisely said, and looked from Tim to Bart. Bart just sighed and shrugged.

“I can’t believe the both of you! I was fine with you two dating! I was willing to live with that, but now this?! Am I a joke to you!?”

Tim was putting on boots as he ranted.

“I’m guessing that’s a no, then?”

“Of course it’s a fucking no!! Gods!” Tim snatched up a cloak and then stormed out the door.

Kon looked at Bart, slowly moving to set down his dirty clothes. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah I’m. . . he’s never yelled like that before.”

“I’m gonna go after him, he can’t be wandering around alone. Are you going to be okay here?”

Bart nodded numbly. Kon quickly strapped on his sword and then walked over to Bart, gently grabbing his chin and tilting his head up.

“It’ll be okay,” he said softly, kissed him, and then hurried out the door.

He found Tim twenty minutes later, sulking in the library. Tim looked up from the books he was glaring murder at and saw Kon, and his face immediately hardened further.

“What do you want?”

“To do my job? I’m supposed to make sure you don’t die, remember?”

Tim just scoffed. He glared at him for a moment, then looked away, sighing. Kon stood nearby, hands on his sword belt, waiting for a good moment to talk.

“Bart didn’t mean to upset you that bad. And he’s pretty shook up that you yelled at him.”

Tim sighed again, shoulders falling a bit. “I know. I shouldn’t have. . . But it was just-”

“Startling?”

“Yeah.”

“Yeah, I understand. I was pretty taken off guard too.”

Tim leaned against the bookshelf and looked up at him.

“It just won’t work, Conner, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t . . . You don’t need to apologize to me for this. I understand, and honestly didn’t expect it to go well. But. . . “

“Yeah, I’ll talk to him later.”

Tim went silent, and Kon let him, looking around the library. It was fairly empty, except for the old librarian, and Kon was perfectly okay with this. They stayed in there for twenty minutes before Tim decided to leave, slowly walking around the castle, Kon just trailing him lightly.

“Can I ask why you’re so against it?” Kon asked randomly, after a while of walking.

“I just. . . With me being a prince. . . the whole view on homosexuality. I know it’s not . . . bad, but it’s not great either, and this? A relationship between three people? It's unheard of, and for royalty to get involved in one. . . “ Tim just shook his head.

Kon was silent for a bit. “Did you know Bruce and Hal are totally sleeping together?”

“I beg your pardon!?”

“Bruce and his one guard, Hal Jordan, awesome dude, by the way. But they're totally sleeping together.”

Tim slammed on the breaks and turned back to Kon, crossing his arms. “And why do you say this?”

“Because I’m friends with one of Dick’s guards, Kyle, and he told me that Hal mentioned it to him.”

Tim just blinked at him. “Wow okay. Information I didn’t need to know today.”

“Do you wanna know about Dick?”

“Of course.”

“He’s totally sleeping with Wally.”

Tim scoffed. “Everyone knows that, Conner, that’s old news, get with the times.”

“I’m just saying. . . Nearly everyone in your family seems to be into guys. It’s not like any of them are gonna judge you for anything,” Conner said with a shrug, returning to tailing Tim as they started walking again.

Tim didn’t respond, just led Kon back to his room. When they got inside, they found Bart missing.

“He’s probably just finishing a chore,” Kon said softly, shrugging and tugging off his sword and boots, collapsing in bed. Then he looked around. “Wait, Krypto is gone. He probably took him out to pee.”

“Yeah. . . You’re probably right,” Tim said, after having stuck his head in Bart’s room. He walked back and sat on his bed, grabbing at a book and settling in to read.

Bart returned a few minutes later, Krypto on his heels, and glanced between the two, looking a little nervous. He just disappeared into the servants quarters. Tim gave a heavy sigh and stood, following him in. Kon just smiled to himself and waited patiently.

After Bart and Tim had a little talk, things settled, mostly back to normal within the next day or so. There was still some awkwardness, and Bart seemed very timid with showing affection to Kon around Tim, but it was manageable, and they were all still pretty friendly.

Kon assumed the topic had just been dropped, and wasn’t planning to ever bring it up again.

But he wasn’t the one who brought it up, so it was fine.

In fact, Tim was.

There had been an attempt, the other night. It had been peaceful for a long time, and then when they had been out riding, someone had attempted to shoot Tim off his horse. The arrow had barely missed his head and grazed his ear instead, and the second Kon realized what had happened, he had yanked Tim to the ground and covered him with his own body. Tim had been fairly shook up about it, and hadn’t been sleeping well because of it.

But tonight, he woke up screaming, and both Kon and Bart rushed to his bed, Bart immediately throwing himself under the covers to pull Tim in tight, quietly shushing him and trying to calm him. Kon awkwardly sat on the edge of the bed, watching them in the dim moonlight.

“It’s okay, Tim, you’re okay. You’re safe,” Bart reassured, humming his words softly.

Tim let out a shaky sob and buried his face into Bart’s chest, body shaking slightly as he took ragged breaths. Bart looked up at Kon and pointedly looked down at Tim, signalling him to come closer. So Kon did, pushing back the blankets enough that he could slip under them, and then scooted over until he could pull both Tim and Bart against him. Tim tensed for a moment, then relaxed back into him, hips pressing into Kon’s thighs.

It took a bit for Tim’s crying to stop enough that he could talk, and even then he barely pulled his face away from Bart, desperately hugging the ginger.

“What’s wrong, Tim?” Bart asked softly, eyebrows knit together in concern.

“I dreamt. . . “ Tim took another deep, shaky breath, then rolled onto his back, staring up at the ceiling. “I dreamt that Ra’s got a hold of you two, that he was using you against me. . . that he was going to kill you, and then me.”

Bart looked at Kon over Tim, reaching up to lightly push his long black hair back out of his face.

“He’s not going to get you, Tim. Not while I’m still here,” Kon reassured, instinctively putting an arm over Tim’s stomach. Tim grabbed onto it tightly, like it was a lifeline.

“You don’t know that,” Tim breathed out, looking up at him.

“Yes I do. I’m here to protect you, and that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to protect you, even if it means I lose my own life.”

“But why?” Tim asked. “Why would you do that for me?”

“Because I care about you,” Kon answered without hesitating.

Tim blinked up at him, and then suddenly he was surging up, pressing his lips to Kon’s. Kon made a muffled noise of surprise, eyes going wide for a second before they slid close and he lightly pressed back into the kiss, arm tightening over Tim’s stomach. He felt a hand squeeze his forearm and pulled back, looking up at Bart, who was grinning slightly.

“Tim-” Kon breathed out, looking down at him.

“I thought-” Tim squeezed his eyes shut for a moment. “I thought I could get over both of you. I thought I would be fine. . . “

He looked over at Bart next, just looking at him quietly for a moment. Bart grinned back.

“But, damn was I wrong.”

Kon watched him lightly kiss Bart, pulling away from Kon as he pushed a little harder into Bart.

“So this means-” Bart immediately asked, once they had pulled away.

“Yes, I want to try it.”

Bart made a little squeal noise of excitement and grinned at Kon. Kon smiled down, then looked at Tim, who still looked a little shook up.

“Hey. . . Tim, you know I meant what I said, right? I’m here to protect you. You’re safe with me. With us.”

Tim just nodded vaguely, looking at Bart. “Will you sing me a song?”

“Of course!”

Tim settled back against Kon’s chest, while Bart sat up so he could properly sing to them, some soft love song that had Kon drifting off, arm wrapped protectively around Tim. He dozed off to Bart soft singing, and Tim’s gentle breaths. He vaguely remembered Bart slipping underneath one of his arms as well, but then he was out of it, waking up the next morning to just Tim in bed, and Bart already up and working. And Kon couldn’t help but grin to himself as he tucked Tim up against his chest.

This was good.

@core-disaster-week-2020

#timkonbart week #core disaster week #timkonbart #core disaster #tim drake #conner kent #bart allen #queerbutstillhere writes #queerbutstillhere

46 notes · View notes

ugly-crying-over-bucky-barnes · 4 years

Text

Field of Poppies Part 4

Summary: After being apart for six years, childhood friends Tommy and Amelia reunite under odd circumstances. Tommy is an outspoken young man and Amelia is pregnant and out on the streets. The bond of family can be unbreakable but it is tested often. Especially when Europe descends into war.

Part 4: The Shelbys go on holiday to the summer fair.

With school on summer holiday, Polly was at her wit's end with the children. While they mostly played outside, they’d always be in and out of the house banging around, tracking mud on the floor, coming in with scraped knees, or crying about something being unfair. Meanwhile, Finn was starting to walk and was also wreaking havoc, pulling on everything not tied down and making quick getaways.

So, it was decided they would spend some of the holiday on the road with the Strong family. Of course, Tommy and Arthur weren’t exactly pleased. Seeing as the betting shop was just getting up and started, they couldn’t afford to lose out on money. Polly insisted and said Danny and the other men could handle a few weeks.

Going on seven months pregnant, Amelia was a bit apprehensive about traveling out to the Welsh countryside. However, Tommy assured her that if she were to go into an early labor, she was in capable hands, probably better than any doctor in Birmingham. It was enough to sway her. They all needed a break from the city’s smoke and mud. Some fresh air was bound to do them good.

And oh how sweet the air smelled once they were finally away from the city limits. Amelia had been to the countryside before but had never joined Tommy’s family to see their kin out on the road. Her parents would never allow her to be near other Travelers, especially ones who tended to be more nomadic in nature than the Shelbys were.

But Tommy had told her enough stories as a child to make her interested. He tried to scare her with the stories they would tell around the fires. Try to explain the excitement of spring and summer fairs. It seemed like another world when he described it all. To be out in the Welsh wilderness, sleeping under the stars, riding horses all day, spinning yarns about fairies, it seemed to be a child’s dream.

Now, Amelia was much more aware of the struggles Tommy’s extended family faced. The prejudice and poverty. None of those issues mattered as a child. They had blinders on so they wouldn't see the ugly side of life. All they saw was the fantastical magic the world still held onto. She yearned to have that innocence back but there was no going back.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

On the second day of traveling to the Black Mountains, Tommy was steering the vardo with Amelia sitting beside him. He held the position naturally, letting the reins be an extension of his arms as he guided the two horses along. Arthur was on another horse, riding along while Polly and the other three children stayed in the back of the wagon.

“Good to be outside, aye?” Tommy struck up a conversation as a lull in the muggy afternoon settled on them.

“Oh yes.” Amelia nodded. “Good to see the clear sky instead of smoke.” She joked. "I forgot how blue the sky could get sometimes."

“Get used to it. ‘Cause when we’ve got everything going with the shop, m’gonna buy a house out in the countryside.”

She smiled. “Is that right?” It wasn’t the first time Tommy made bold claims. Once money started rolling in from the betting shop, he started promising things that sounded outlandish even to Arthur. He promised a brand new luxury car to John, a new five story house for Polly, as many horses as Ada could want, and now a house in the country.

“Like a cottage. Mum, dad, and I used to rent one for the holidays out in Wiltshire.” She recalled. “Cute little place.”

“No.” He shook his head, the cigarette in his mouth practically just a bit of ash. “One of those fucking big ones. Like royals have. Dukes 'n whatever they are.”

“Oh, Thomas, please.” She giggled and nudged him.

“I’m serious!” He chucked the last bit of his cigarette. “Big place, dozens of bedrooms, proper kitchen, riding stables, maids, cooks, everything. We’ll live there with the baby. He’ll have room to run ‘stead of being cooped up in Small Heath.”

It sounded wonderful to Amelia, like the stories he used to tell about traveling. But it was so far-fetched. “Can we focus just on what we’ve got now?” She wondered. “Tommy, I’m okay with making do with what I’ve got…and what you and your family have given me.” She touched his knee.

He glanced over at her, his blue eyes so bright in the summer sun. “You don’t think you deserve more than this?” He wondered. “Wouldn’t you rather a nice big house, proper holidays to places like France?”

“All those things would be nice but if I never get those things then I’ll be fine. I’m okay with what I have now.” She smiled at him to reassure that there wasn’t anything he needed to prove to her or promise.

Tommy sighed and his eyes returned to the grassy path ahead of them. “I know the baby’s not mine but…I don’t want any other kid to go hungry like we did. Ain’t right how we were brought up. And if I can change that for my family and for the baby then, why not?”

Amelia felt she wasn’t in a place to tell if he was right or wrong. So, she leaned over to kiss his cheek affectionately. “You’re a good man, Tommy Shelby.” She said softly. “A very good man.”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~

They met up with the Strongs at their camp and together they moved North to go to the Appleby fair. Ada chattered on to Amelia the whole ride there about how fun the fair was. There were crafts and fortune-tellers and horses, horses, horses. She would see all of her cousins and other distant relatives that they only got to see once in a blue moon. They’d race horses, swap stories, share laughs, and her brothers would box with the Lee boys.

Although the trip took a little under a week, Amelia was in good spirits the whole way there. Tommy was practically a different person out in the countryside. He knew how to survive in Small Heath and knew how to survive outdoors just as well. He let loose a bit, not bothering to dress up and going barefoot a lot of the times. He smiled more and played with his siblings. It was as if he had left all his worries back in the city.

Amelia thought he was so beautiful in the sun. His smile brightened ten fold, his eyes sparkled, and he moved as if he didn't have any stress on his shoulders. It warmed her heart to see him play-wrestling with John, riding horses with Ada, and picking up Finn to spin him around. For a moment, she pictured her child in the scene. A little boy or girl toddling after Tommy, looking for his attention. Tommy scooping them up and holding them close, just as a father would.

All she could do was smile and keep her wide-eyed fantasies to herself. But it was so easy to get caught up in the magic of the forests and fields. It was so easy to get caught up in the smile of Tommy Shelby.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Ada was right, there was a lot to be said about the fair. Intricately and brightly painted vardos lined up and many people were milling around. There were people washing their horses in the rivers as children played and splashed one another by the banks.

After a long journey, Amelia wanted to stretch her legs. Tommy walked with her along the river as the rest of the family prepared camp and watered the horses.

“Pol said your feet might be hurting these days.” Tommy’s aunt was his go-to to get any pregnancy answers.

“They’re a bit swollen, the heat doesn’t help,” Amelia admitted. Although getting to walk was nice, she was starting to get flushed in the heat.

“And uh…any word from home?” He kept his eyes to the ground, kicking a stone along their way.

“While we’ve been on the road for over a week?” She raised an eyebrow at him. “I haven’t gotten any messenger birds.”

Tommy chuckled. “I meant when we were back home. I mean, we haven’t talked about it much.” He pointed out.

Her smile faded. “No, I haven’t heard from them. I don’t know if they know where I am but I figured…well, I figured they would’ve thought to try and find me in Small Heath. I don’t know where else I would’ve gone with nothing in me pockets.

“And the father?” They hadn’t broached the subject before because Polly insisted that he leave the matter be. But curiosity was just too damn tough to ignore.

“Tom, I told you…”

“Tommy Shelby!” Someone crowed out ahead of them. Three young men about Tommy and Arthur’s age stopped them.

His face soured when he saw who was calling him. “Will.” He muttered obviously not in the mood to talk to them.

“I heard the Shelbys were coming, how the hell are ya?” Will appeared to be the oldest of the three, a tall, broad-shouldered man with dark hair.

“Fine, fine.”

"And he's got someone up the duff." Will smacked a hand to his forehead when he saw Amelia. "Shelby, Shelby, Shelby. What a shame! You have to learn how to pull out or these things happen, Tommy." He tutted in Shelta. "She is a sight though."

Amelia suddenly felt very self-conscious about the baby bump showing. Of course, she ought to be showing at her stage of pregnancy, but she wasn’t keen on embarrassing the Shelbys. Especially if Tommy wasn’t actually the father.

“Watch your fucking mouth.” Tommy spat venomously.

The Lee brothers jostled each other, pleased that he was fighting back. “Still got that mouth on ya, Tommy Boy, haven’t ya?”

“Fuck off.” He wrapped an arm around Amelia’s waist to steer her away from the brothers. “Fucking lowlifes never know when to shut their mouths..” He muttered under his breath.

“Still got a fight in ya then? Or are ya too scared to step into the ring with me?” Will taunted after him.

Amelia felt Tommy’s arm stiffen and he stopped in his tracks. Her eyebrows knit in worry. “Tom…” She warned.

But he slipped away from her and turned to face the brothers again. “Name a time.”

~~~~~~~~~~

“Ah, it’s never too long ‘til Tommy gets into it with one of the Lees at the fair.” Arthur punched his brother in the arm. “Lucky you got practice with those Birmingham Boys, aye?”

Tommy avoided Amelia’s questioning glance even though he could feel her eyes on him.

Polly didn’t even look like she wanted to get into the matter. Men fought at fairs, that was only tradition and it was in good fun most of the time. Besides, Small Heath was much more dangerous than a bout of boxing.

Around the Shelbys’ camp, there was a buzz in the air of excitement. Music could be heard in a couple of different directions, people laughed and joined each other for a good time around the roaring fires and lanterns. Some girls some yards away were dancing in a circle, their long skirts illuminated by the flames.

“When can I fight, Pol?” John asked hopefully. “I can take the Lees too!”

“Hush.” Polly scolded. “When you’re older and you’ve learned how to box properly. I don’t want to bring you home with a broken hand.”

John grimaced. “I’m old enough.” He muttered.

“Men don’t pout or slouch.” She said and stood up to tend to Finn who was stirring in the vardo.

“You gonna kill ‘im then, Tom?” Arthur smirked. “I heard he was…” He made a subtle gesture to Amelia who was talking softly with Ada. The eldest Shelby wanted to mention about how bad Tommy had it for Amelia. It was blatantly obvious to everyone. But neither of them seemed to want to admit it.

Tommy tossed a twig into the fire mindlessly. “He’ll learn to keep his fucking mouth shut.” He mumbled.

“Shelby!” Someone called.

Arthur grinned and clapped his brother on the back. “Let’s go then.”

“Tom?” Amelia looked worried when they stood up. “Where are you going?”

“Gonna go fight, Mel. Tommy’s gonna show them Lees how to throw a good punch”

“But…” Her stomach went into knots. “Maybe you could stay here and-”

“Won’t be long, Mel,” Tommy promised.

“Fine, then I’m coming.” She wrapped her shawl tighter around her shoulders and followed them.

“Not really for women.” Arthur tried to show opposition to the idea but Tommy didn’t seem to mind. Maybe if she saw him fight, she would know he could hold his own and she wouldn’t have to worry about the betting shop. No longer was he the stick-thin little teenager who was sometimes more bark than bite. No, he’d found his anger and learned to use it to his advantage.

The makeshift ring was lit by lanterns and nearby fires. A group was already forming to watch the show. The Lees were riling Will up who was already there, waiting for his opponent. But they all seemed to be in good nature, passing drinks and cigarettes, laughing, and cussing.

Tommy pulled off his undershirt and handed it to Amelia to hold. She was a bit stunned to see he had a tattoo on his chest. The sun-like lines were certainly new as far as she was aware. But she didn’t mention the ink.

Arthur was handing his brother a flask, Tommy downing the contents before ducking under the rope.

The crowd of onlookers was a bit rowdy, pleased to see young blood fighting like real men. Bare knuckles, no weapons, how it was meant to be a Romani man. A good show of tradition.

Amelia felt her palms start to sweat. Will was a good head taller than Tommy was and seemingly more muscular by his build.

However, Arthur, standing beside her, looked less than concerned. “He’ll be alright, Mellie. He’s taken down bigger fuckers than this one.” He promised.

Amelia had seen Tommy fight before, but the last time must’ve been when they were only thirteen. The wiry boy had a habit for picking fights and never staying down even when he was bleeding or had a broken bone. She never seemed to mind seeing him fight while they were in school. But seeing him in the ring with someone bigger than him, it made her stomach flip-flop.

And Tommy drew out the suspension. He allowed Will to get in a couple of swings, but he dodged them. His size allowed him to be quicker and more agile on his feet. The two circled around each other, fists up by their faces. Will looked smug with himself, confident that he would win. On the other hand, Tommy had fire in his blue-eyes. He wasn't fighting to have a few laughs.

“Hit ‘im, Tommy!” Arthur roared after his brother dodged a couple more blows.

Something changed in Tommy’s eyes as he threw a punch. Amelia could hear the blow land even over the boisterous crowd. She winced and ducked her head a bit. When had she ever been afraid to watch a fight? She must’ve egged on a few scuffles in her day. Goading Tommy to kick in the teeth of the school bully. But when Will landed a punch and she saw Tommy’s head jerk back, she cringed and hid her face in Arthur’s sleeve.

She could still hear the contact of punches, the sound of the men spurring them on, and the grunts from Will and Tommy as they fought. But she couldn’t bear to watch it.

It only took a few minutes before someone was shouting.“Oi, oi! Get ‘im off!”

“Tom, c’mon, that’s enough!” Arthur moved from Amelia and got into the ring.

She looked up and saw Tommy on top of Will, pummeling his face. Arthur ripped his brother off.

"Got fucking devils in them. Those fucking Shelbys are rabid." Someone nearby remarked.

"Aye, get it from their father. Murder in their blood."

"Do not let me hear you talking about her again." Tommy threatened in Shelta before he finally let his brother steer him away from the ring. He spat on the ground, leaving the Lees to help an injured Will off the ground.

Coated with a sheen of sweat, Tommy was breathing hard. Even in the dim light, Amelia could assess the damage. It seemed Will had taken the brunt of the fight. Tommy only walked away with a bloody lip, a bruise forming on his jaw, and some dirt sticking to his torso.

“Go wash off and calm the fuck down,” Arthur ordered before heading back toward the camp.

~~~~~~~~~~

Amelia followed Tommy to the river so he could wash the blood and dirt away. She lingered behind as he knelt down on the bank and splash cold water over him.

“What did you say to him?” She wondered.

“Nothing.” Tommy shook the water from his hair and wiped his hands over his face.

“Well, you said something, Tom.”

He stood and took his shirt back, using it to dry off a bit. “It was nothing.” He said again.

They stood in silence for a bit. Music still hung in the air as the night wore on. There was an uproar from the crowd, signaling the start of another boxing match.

Curious, Amelia stepped toward him and splayed her fingers out over his tattoo, following the direction of the lines. “This is new.”

Tommy felt like his skin was on fire even after the cold douse of water. He couldn’t find the words for a long moment, simply watching her slender fingers trailing over the inked lines. “I-uh…you can’t tell Pol about it.” He tried to hide his stammer. “She’ll fucking kill me.”

Amelia laughed softly and withdrew her hand. “Alright.” She agreed. “Your secret is safe with me.”

He smiled and threw on the shirt to conceal the tattoo. “C’mon.” He murmured and wrapped an arm around her shoulders.

Permanent Tag: @papa-geralt-of-cirilla @giftofdreams @biba3434 @kimmietea @karmezii @enrapturedbythemoon @vampgirl1997

Tag list: @shelbyblinded

Masterpost

PB Masterlist

43 notes · View notes

redfoxwritesstuff · 4 years

Text

Of Dust and Ashes (Chapter 24)

Welcome! Happy Friday! Kit does in fact Live! Who knew, right? I got the cold of death this week and I swear to GOD I’ve been asleep more than awake. But those who have been keeping up with the family bullshit that has knocked this to biweekly updates and killed my will to write- Cora’s getting a 504 plan so she’s promised the same accommodations she’s getting now from the teacher in the following years. WooHoo! Still some kinks to work out but I *hope* to be writing enough to get this back to weekly updates by the end of March.

Clint x ofc, Series rating: M, Series warnings: Pretty much every Trigger warning that can exist is in this series at some point.

Masterlist

Feed me coffee

Chapter warnings: None

Chapter 24: Going Up

The cold nipped at her cheeks and nose. The heavy coat she wore had belonged to Laura and was two sizes too big, at least. Clint had told her Laura had gotten it while she was pregnant with one of the kids. It smelled like the house and nothing more, a fact for which Deanna was beyond thankful for.

A bitter cold snap had rolled through the area and while Clint had no trouble at all keeping the farmhouse, greenhouse shed and chicken coop warm enough, it did put a damper on their plans. She had made it clear to Clint on the fourth day that she wasn’t prepared to be a mother again. They needed to at least attempt to retrieve Elsa’s mother.

Because of her unwillingness to wait out the cold spell, Clint made damn sure she wouldn’t suffer from exposure. Strapped to her back, under the heavy coat was Elsa. Her body heat combined with the protection of the coat assured them that the small body would be warm enough.

Clint had driven them a good ways, circling the city in the distance. He assured her that the paths they were taking would keep them out of sight of any scouts. In truth, he hadn't expected them to have any scouts but it was better to be safe than sorry. Finally, when he had picked a way in, he parked the truck off the road and wedged it under a large pine. The sagging branches helped hide it but there wasn’t much that could be done about the tracks themselves. Trust trotted along, keeping pace at their heels, unconcerned with the cold.

It was early in the morning, the sun had only began to rise as they started walking. They hiked through the snow for what felt like a lifetime. Clint lead the way and she fallowed in a half asleep daze. There was no sign of another person as far as she could see.

The city loomed in the distance, growing larger with each passing hour. They walked by moonlight alone. Clint didn’t want to use a flashlight and while she understood, Dee didn’t exactly have her feet under her. She wasn’t used to traversing more than her home in the dark. Snow and ice crunched under their feet as Clint guided them along animal trails.

When he reached out and squeezed her glove covered hand with his own, it reassured her. He didn’t expect her to know everything or to be battle ready. He was kind and patient with her even as he urged her forward at a grueling pace.

They walked toward a large building, the largest on the outskirts of the city. She knew what was in store for her, but Dee wasn’t even remotely excited about it.

The glass windows were broken in on the ground floor and many on the second had been shattered as well. They carefully made their way inside. Clint carried the dog over the sea of broken glass, whispering to himself about having to find or make booties for the pooch to protect his feet in the future. Such care was enduring to Dee. He took such good care of them. She couldn't imagine a life in this new world without him.

“How far up are we going?” Deanna asked. Clint pulled open the door to the stairwell, finally clicking on his flashlight.

“All the way. I want on the roof.”

She watched as he worked. It was fascinating, the things he looked for to assure their safety. He checked things she didn’t even think of. like dust on the ground or types of trash. As he worked, he whispered a play by play of what he was looking for. He taught her with the hopes that if she ever had to do this alone, she could.

The flashlight illuminated the landing where undisturbed dust had settled. He shone it under the stairs, checking that no one was hiding out before shining the light up the stairs. Only when he was sure that everything he could see had been untouched for a while, did he start them up the stairs.

“Never treat a stairwell as the only way up or down.” He whispered as they started on the stairwell leading up to the third floor. “Most of the time there is at least one more stairwell at the other side of the building. If it’s in a corner- you can almost count on there being three more- one in each corner.”

She’d never thought about that. There were so many things she had never even thought of. The thought plagued her. Even if she hadn’t hurt her ankle that day, how long would she have really survived? Would she have embraced a group like this, learned to look the other way to protect herself? Would she have been taken captive by one? Would she have tried to fight back only to end up dead on the side of the road?

How many people were killed by groups like this? She knew what was left of the Avengers team, fractured as they were, were working to restore something resembling order to the east coast. Clint had told her how their hold had spread farther and farther west but until proper order was restored, this was life for who knows how many people.

It was hard not to think about the state of things when all she had to do was climb stair after stair. Her legs burned. She wasn’t in any shape for this, though she expected to be in much more pain than she was in. Her body had become stronger over the last four months and she largely hadn’t noticed it.

“Has there been any word for New York?” She whiskered, growing tired of listening only to the sound of their boot falls and her racing thoughts. As they reached the fifth floor, they began to feel safer in their solitude. No one was around.

No one stirred, not even a mouse.

“They’ve located the VP a while ago. He’s something resembling stable now.”

“Stable?”

Clint shrugged. “The decimation- it was hard on everyone. He lost a lot of his friends, parts of his family. For a while it wasn’t looking like he could lead the country.”

“I guess he’s President now?”

“Yep. Rhodes is pretty much in charge of the air force for now. Not sure if he’ll stay in that position as they fill the ranks. Probably, anyway. They’ve put a call on the AM radio stations for any and all military personnel to make their way east. It’s hard to say how many will show up. I guess it’s been a small trickle.”

“That’s good though, right?”

“Yeah.” Silence spanned for a few moments, broken only by the sound of their boots. “I’m not going though. I told them, I can’t. I won’t.”

“It’s good though, that things are getting figured out. Maybe soon people like King Jacob won’t be a problem anymore.”

“People like King Jacob and his band of thugs will always be a problem. Always have and always will be.”

It felt like a lifetime before they reached the roof. They stopped, feeding the baby a few floors from the top. She was young enough that being settled close to Dee’s skin was enough to keep her quite. Little Elsa was staying warm and spent much of her time sleeping. When she was awake, Dee hiked her higher on her back and used the hood to shield the small head, allowing hr to look around some. The baby likely mostly had a view of hair, though. It was the thought that counted, right?

As Clint looked over the edge of the roof, Dee sat near the door and played with little Elsa. It was better to see to the child now, while she could than have the baby want attention or need a feeding while they were in a dangerous spot. There wasn’t much she could do to control the timing of a soiled diaper beyond pray that it didn’t make her cry when they needed her silent.

“Let’s go.”

Dee must have dozed off with the baby in her arms. Clint’s voice startled her awake. Golden morning sun shone out over them. It wasn’t by much but they didn’t leave in the ‘early morning’ like Clint had said. Just because the clock read ‘AM’ didn't make it ‘morning’ but she hadn’t argued about it. Still, half past two was ‘early morning’ in Clint’s book. It had to be something close to six or so, now.

Just as everything that goes up must come down, they had to walk down the stairs- one flight at a time. They went faster down, having gravity on their side. Still, she never wanted to look at another stair again in her life. Ever. Clint was going to have to carry her up the stairs of the farmhouse if he wanted her to go back inside it.

Assuming they both survived.

She followed him, staying close on his heels as they moved through city streets. Clint didn’t tell her much about the path they took beyond that it was safe. Or rather, pretty safe but that was as safe as anything got when they were off his property. That had to be good enough.

For a few hours, they trucked through snow as they worked their way deeper into the city using alley ways and working to remain hidden. The sun hung low in the sky still, providing long shadows for them to move through. Still, it was impossible to ignore the way her anxiety climbed right along with the sun.

She could almost taste the relief when they slipped inside the building Clint had picked out. It was sweeter than any candy she had had. Still, Clint moved them into the building slowly. He thoroughly checked the ground floor, ensuring it was empty before leading them up the first flight of stairs.

This building was taller than the prior, which was why Clint had picked it. Each flight of stairs was harder than the last to climb and after four flights, it became clear that she needed a break.

Clint ordered her to wait in the stairwell, of the fifth flight as he checked the floor. She agreed willingly, causing him to worry. They worked little Elsa out of her jacket and made her a bottle of formula. It wouldn’t be warm like it should have been but the water was at body temperature at least, having been stored in an internal side pocket of her coat.

Once they were settled, Clint started on checking the floor for any sign of use. Some windows were cracked but most were intact, keeping the bitter wind out. Fine dust covered the ground, far more dust than would be expected for how long the building had sat empty.

He knew what that dust was. People who had been here and been lost. People he had failed. It was a toxic thought and he worked to push it away. Now wasn’t the time to think of the people that the heroes of the world had failed that summer.

Right now, what mattered most was that he didn’t fail to protect Dee. What mattered was that he did everything within reason to protect Elsa and reunite her with her mother. What mattered was that those who were taking advantage of others were punished.

He couldn’t find any sign of human life on the floor. Sure, rat activity seemed to be present but he expected that. Rats would be a problem in any city right now. Once he was satisfied that the floor was empty, he set to work barricading the other stairwell doors.

They would rest. They needed to rest and eat but he would only allow them to do so once he was certain that there was no way to get on or off this floor without him knowing. Only when he was satisfied did he go back to Dee.

Wordlessly, he ushered her out of the stairwell and into the floor. It was filled with cubicles and desks. The black screens of computers taunted her with the memory of what had been. Dust floated up around their feet as they walked. Clint lead the way to a small office, probably having belonged to the floor manager. The door was closed but the walls were lined with glass windows, giving it a view of the whole floor.

Inside, there was very little dust. The dust in that office was light and lacked that oddly oily nature that the dust created out of people by the decimation had. When it happened, the room had been empty and the door closed. It was clean.

Dee sat on the floor and set baby Elsa down next to her. As she laid next to the baby, her back popped in places. It felt so good to be off her feet, to have the weight and strain off her legs. Trust laid down next to Elsa, keeping his side touching the small baby, providing her warmth.

Clint left the door to the office open as he sat on the floor next to them. The backpack he carried was large and heavy. It felt amazing to have the weight off his back. Soon, soon they would be in place and he wouldn’t have to keep carrying it for much longer.

He planned to let them rest for the next hour or two. It wasn’t nearly as much rest as he knew Dee needed but it was as also far more than he wanted to give them. Opening the backpack, he set to work unpacking it. He set a foam bowl out and filled it with water for Trust. The dog had largely been eating mouth fulls of snow as they walked but was eager to get a proper drink anyway.

On a paper plate, he dumped a can of wet dog food. That excited Trust. With the dog taken care of, he grabbed up the baby and gave her a change. She’d drank most of the bottle that Dee had given her and was now more than content to eat her toes for a while.

“Is that safe?” Dee asked as he set out a small propane burner designed for camping and lit it.

“Yes and no.” He answered, setting a small metal pot on and popping open one of their cans of stew and dumping it inside. “You normally use them outside, the fumes build up and are toxic. But the floor is open, the door is open and we won’t be allowing it to burn long enough to put us in danger. The exposure is worth having a hot meal.”

He was right, the meal did much more to help her recover her strength than she had expected. There was still the throbbing ache in her legs and back but she felt significantly less like death. The idea of walking up the rest of the stairs however was still something she had no interest in doing.

After eating his share, Clint pulled himself to his feet and Dee audibly groaned. “Don’t worry Babe, you don’t have to get up yet.”

“Oh thank god.” Dramatics were on full force as she made a show of sighing and relaxing against the wall. Before, she’d never liked dramatics. She felt that they were pointless and a waste of time but somehow, with him, they felt natural and she often didn’t even realize she was doing it until later. “What are you doing?”

“Checking to see what we can see from here.”

“What if someone sees you?”

“We’re too high for most people to see us unless they are looking from another building.”

“And they could be.”

“But unlikely. This lot seems not inclined to climb stairs. No one’s been in this one or the last building. Seems safe enough to assume they likely are not high in the others.”

“Safe enough?” She mocked.

Clint rolled his eyes and made his way toward the windows. While he felt reasonably sure enough of his calculation that he wouldn’t be seen, he wasn’t going to dance naked in front of a window either. “There’s going to be a glare on the glass from the sun anyway. It’ll be hard for anyone to really look for long enough to notice movement.”

“If you say so.”

He did say so. Again and again he told himself that as he peeked down through the glass. Ever calm and sure of himself on the exterior, Dee would never guess that there was a steady river of anxiety running through him.

He knew she was right. It was dangerous to approach the window. It put him in the open. He could be spotted. He could be shot. But there was always a risk. He had to weigh that risk against the benefit of information. Right now, he needed information to keep them alive.

He hadn’t told Dee, but he had caught sight of movement in some buildings as they had made their way to this building. There was only so much he could do to keep them in the shadows but there was a chance that King Jacob’s gang knew that there were outsiders in the town.

If they were lucky, no one thought anything if a couple walking through the shadows. Should he have told Dee? His mind was at war over it. It wouldn’t do any good to stress her out, to raise her anxiety levels even higher, right? But there was a part of him that knew she couldn’t be prepared to defend herself if she didn’t know there was an additional threat.

He shook his head and pushed the thoughts away. It was important to focus right now. The binoculars were wedged in his pocket and he had to work a bit to get them out. Even as he worked them free, he kept his eyes trained on the buildings across. There was no movement in them that he could see.

With the binoculars, he was able to take a closer look. There were clear paths through the snow that gave way what roads were most trafficked. Other roads were untouched by human footprints and mainly filled with animal tracks. People moved down below.

They were dirty people. Some were clearly injured. Most were not dressed for the unusual cold. Small groups gathered around trashcan fires, warming fingers. There was a consistent lack of women and younger children.

Everyone he could see looked tired, thin and ragged. They were not weathering the winter well. Turning his eyes toward the city center park, it was clear where King Jacob set himself up. There was a stage built and things hanging from rafters.

Bodies. There were bodies swinging in the wind. One had to be no older than 14.

King Jacob needed to die.

~~~~~<3

Tag list: @winterisakiller, @usedtobegoodfriend96, @acoholic-muffin, @theoneanna, @alexakeyloveloki, @toozmanykids, @j-u-s-t-4, @missaphrodite23, @bambamwolf87, @nonsensicalobsessions, @tinchentitri, @xoxabs88xox, @queenoftheunderdark, @carissime72, @myoxisbroken, @coyotesongwriting, @wegingerangelica, @faemapfae, @jeremyrennerfanxxxx123, @tnystrk-exe

#clint x ofc #clint x oc #clint barton fanfiction #clint barton x oc #clint barton x ofc

21 notes · View notes

bee-kathony · 5 years

Photo

Four Years | Year Three - “March 30th, 2016″

a/n: thank you so much for reading!

Year One | Year Two

January 9th, 2016 | January 24th, 2016 | March 3rd, 2016

March 30th, 2016

Jamie’s POV

Claire’s wee garden would have to wait a few more weeks, but I had bought all the seeds she could ever need and had strategically placed them near the teapot so she would see them. Claire never went a day without having a cup of tea. It had been one of the few things she had let me help her with — bringing her tea whenever she wanted it. She was still distant, but I knew the talk with Jenny had helped and I could see traces of the light peeking through the wall she’d built.

It was still cold outside and it would be for some time. I wanted to get Claire out of our house. Out of our house with the nursery that I had been slowly taking apart. Everyday I walked past it and boxed something up. I should just do it all in one go, but it hurt too much — once all of Jane’s belongings were put away, then she was really gone.

Jenny and Ian invited us to come and spend some time at Lallybroch. I could work from there and Claire still wasn’t full time back at the hospital so it seemed like the right thing to do. Besides, we had left Annie with my sister while Fergus got used to everything — I always thought that dogs knew when it’s owners were in pain. Adso had stayed with us however, running away from Fergus’s small hands trying catch his tail.

“Chien?”

Fergus hadn’t stopped talking about the dog since the moment I mentioned we would go and see one. His eyes lit up and he kept sticking his tongue out in imitation of one.

“Aye, wee lad. We’re goin’ to see our chien,” I smiled and picked him up, settling him on my waist. “We just need to get yer Mam and her things.”

I walked down the hallway to our room where Claire had been packing a bag earlier and found her staring at herself in the mirror. Her eyes were fixed on her stomach and I carefully set Fergus down on the bed and walked up behind her.

“Sassenach?” I touched her shoulder lightly. “Are ye almost ready to go? I told Jenny we’d be there in an hour.”

Blinking, she met my eye in the mirror and smiled softly. “Yes, I’m ready.” Her hand fell from her stomach and she turned to grab her overnight bag.

“I’ll get that, a nighean,” I took the bag from her hand and kissed her cheek. She tensed, but only slightly and then I felt her give in as she closed her eyes.

“Thank you, Jamie.”

It was more than just a ‘thank you’ for picking up her bag. It was a ‘thank you for being patient with me’. However long it took for Claire to come back to me, I would wait. I would be there whenever she needed me. Claire has already suffered more than one should; I only wished that she would share her burden with me.

“Ye can head out to the car, I’ll bring Fergus,” I kissed her cheek again and she left the room.

“Come on, lad. Let’s go see the chien.”

++++++

A light snow covered the ground as we arrived at Lallybroch and when I set Fergus on the ground, he took two fumbling steps and plopped down on his bum. It was almost April, but Scottish weather was unpredictable. Claire snickered and bent down to pick him up. It was the first time I had seen her willingly interact with him. I knew she loved him, but it also pained her — I could see it in her eyes.

“Wet,” Fergus said, his tiny hands pressing against Claire’s cheeks and she shivered.

“Very wet,” She said and then started walking inside. I followed close behind with the bags, setting them down in the entrance.

“Janet! Ian! We’re here!”

Ruff!

Annie came running around the corner at the sound of my voice. First jumping up to my knees, barking and shaking her tail and after a satisfactory head scratch, she ran to Claire, licking at her ankles.

“Stop it, Annie, that tickles,” Claire smiled. We really didn’t deserve dogs.

“Thank heavens yer here,” Jenny appeared from kitchen with Ian following her, carrying their youngest Katherine. “Ye are goin’ to take that damn dog home wi’ ye this time?”

I looked over at Claire who had set Fergus down and was now placing his hand on top of Annie’s furry head.

“Aye, we can do that. Fergus has settled in nicely so far,” I grinned.

“Sweet Mary and Joseph,” Jenny made the sign of the cross and I laughed. “Having five bairns in the house, two dogs of our own, a cat and then adding yer dog in the mix has been a wee bit rough.”

“Annie is well behaved surely,” Claire said from the ground.

“She’s fine, but tis my kids that arena,” She smirked. “Wee beasties when they all get together.”

“Not Katherine,” Ian said, bouncing her in his arms. “Not yet anyways.”

“So I take it ye will be havin’ anymore bairns?” Smirking, I picked up our bags and started walking towards the stairs.

“Och, God no. I’ve already made Ian promise to get a vasectomy for my birthday present.”

I winced, looking over at Ian who’s lips were pressed tight. “Aye, I did.”

Laughing, I walked up to my old room, setting down the bags and nearly jumped out of my skin a moment later when I felt someone’s hand on my back.

“Jesus! Sassenach,” I turned towards her. “Ye scairt me half to death.”

“Sorry,” she said through a shy smile.

“Are ye alright? Do ye feel okay?” I slid my arms around her waist, looking for any signs that she was anything but fine.

Nodding, she stepped closer and laid her head against my chest. “I’m tired of being sad.”

“Mo ghraidh,” I laid my hand on the back of her head. “I ken. It’s just been two months. Ye’ve every right to feel sad.”

“But I don’t want to,” she mumbled against my chest.

“Is there somethin’ we can do to take yer mind off of it?” Placing my hand under her chin, I turned it so she would look up at me. “Play a board game? We havena done that since before yer chemo. Do ye remember that day?”

“I do,” she grinned then, a genuine smile. “That was one of the best days.”

“Then let’s get changed into some comfy clothes,” I kissed her. “And then we’ll go downstairs and play a game with our family.”

“Sounds like a plan,” she said and then moved to pull out sweats from her bag.

“Annie was happy to see ye.”

“I missed her,” she said. “Fergus seems to love her. I left him downstairs and they were both getting along just fine.”

“Dogs are verra good wi’ bairns,” I smiled, pulling off my jeans one leg at a time. I found my grey sweats from my bag and slid them on, sighing at the comfort. “When I was a lad, my dog Nairn used to let me ride him around the place.”

“Like a horse?”

“Aye, Sassenach. Like a horse. My Mam would yell at me to get off, sayin’ that if I wanted to ride a real horse, then I should go to the stables, but Nairn was just the right size,” I laughed.

“Nairn is Bran’s grandfather,” I said as I came to sit beside Claire on the bed. “Bran might let Fergus ride on him.”

“You think?” Claire smiled.

“There’s only one way to find out…” I smirked.

++++++

Bran didn’t let Fergus ride him after all. I tried to put him on his back, but he just kept barking and trying to bite at his ankles, so on the second try, I pulled Fergus off quick. I couldn’t wait for the day that Fergus was bigger and I could teach him to ride a proper horse.

After we all ate dinner and put Fergus to bed, Jenny, Ian, Claire and I played a game of monopoly that went on for nearly four hours. Claire had always been competitive, but I could tell she was still holding back a bit. There was only so much I could do to help her, I just wanted to hold her in my arms and never let her go, but I kent she needed space.

After Jenny won the game, and we packed it back up, Claire went straight to bed, falling asleep as soon as her head hit the pillow.

I leaned over her, brushing a curl off her cheek and kissed it.

“Lord, protect my wife. Heal her heart and take away the pain that she has for our lost bairn. Dinna let her weep, but fill her with joy once again. Protect her from the things I cannot.”

#four years #outlander fanfic #jamie x claire #year three #sorry its short #jamie fraser #claire fraser

180 notes · View notes

worldcakecakecake · 5 years

Text

The Red Mask

In 18th century Valencia, Spain, thrives the legend of the Red Mask, a character with stories of bravery and heroism that have enchanted Lovino Valenti since he was a young child. On a new business deal, his family moves from Naples and Lovino finds himself wishing for adventure and action away from his duties in this new Spanish city. He is given that chance when he joins a group of masked heroes that fall under the command of the famed Red Mask. He grows a close and fiery relationship with the masked man of his tales and dreams, and without knowing his identity, he lets himself be swayed by his seduction, trust and daringness, to passions surely forbidden when he doesn’t even know his actual name or who he really is.

And the prologues are done! Let us begin!

Chapter 1

Such stories were the root of Renata Valenti’s current predicament. Hurrying her way down the streets, searching through every small crevice her eldest son could fit through. Some who knew her, giggled between their groups, knowing well what was happening.

“Lovino is at it again?” One elder woman imagined.

“As always,” Renata rolled her eyes.

“Last time he was at the guard station.”

“Another at the smiths.”

“At the bar with those soldiers.”

“Already checked and still no sign of him.” Her worry was peaking.

“Think about the stories!”

“What happens in the last one he heard?”

“Something about some…barracks!” And that was the spark that gave her the next direction.

“Then off you go!”

“Thanks!” She hurried off.

Lovino Valenti was well off her reach, already nearing his goal for the day, trusty toy sword on his waist and the determined glow ready for a fight…even when he was only seven years old, a little thing scurrying like an alley cat all across the actions of the city, making many smile dearly.

“Buon giorno, Lovino!” One woman called.

“Buon giorno, Signora Giosetta!” He greeted, breaking from that serious expression to one of kindness and gentleness, waving to her as excited a child should be.

“Giving your mother a scare already so early in the morning?”

“No! I’m only going to practice!”

“Practice what?”

“My sword skills to use for the war!” And he hurried off, only aiding to cause more giggles in the area.

Soon he entered tunnels and streets that led him away from the routine of the common people, to another area of the city that now soldiers moved about, wondering why such a young child was sneaking his way between them. He scurried until he found a good spot, a good high altitude, trees covering his presence from those that could walk in his area. He only wished he could partake in the sparring he saw, in wearing those dirtied uniforms, in screaming along in shouts of pain or victory, swinging a majestic steeled weapon, moving about in grace as any dancer should. Lovino kept his eyes on one of them, the one he found had everything, speed, strength, defense, art, even the emotion well painted on his face. He stared, studying, copying, remembering well every trick, teaching, even his shouts of correct as he instructed others. Confident, sure, he stood, ready to try them, telling himself to begin once he started with a new figure to begin his new teaching. He really didn’t think about what he was doing, but of the pure beauty and interest of it, more like a show, a dance, a moment to think himself the hero of his mind. In that loss of his imagination, he did not notice the loud noises he made, the war cries, the utter performance he made himself from the heights he had thought was secretive and private. None of the soldiers could ignore this, stopping their usual routine to look above to this rather adorable child. Lovino went on uncaring, not seeming to notice the silence that settled as everyone laid their eyes on him. Renata had entered the area, easily spotting Lovino even between bushes, his moves and shouts too large to remain hidden even between their small covering.

“Lovino Valenti!” She shouted, not being able to hold her anger.

Lovino instantly stopped in his cowering, crunching down hoping to be unseen, but it was in that moment that he noticed all the eyes that were staring at him from the camp, some chuckling, others pointing, smiling, even waving. Lovino curled himself more, his childishness thinking he could disappear if he did so more tightly. It didn’t work, for soon enough he felt his mother intimidating shadow covering him completely, especially in this small stance he brought himself into. He only peeked, instantly fearing the way his mother’s eyes burned with fire.

“You’re coming home, right now!” She instantly took his wrist, hauling him up and dragging him out, back to the busy streets. Some of the soldier men waved goodbye and to some Lovino managed his own.

“See, Nonno, See!” Little Feliciano, showing his drawing of a little bird proudly, practically shoving it in Augusto’s face.

“Lovely, angelo mio, lovely!” He excited, rubbing his hair, the little boy smiling and going back to his coloring.

It was in that moment that Renata had finally made her return, exhausted, still grasping to Lovino, fearing that he would escape again at any opportunity that she wasn’t giving the slightest gaze.

“There you are!” Augusto instantly stood, heading over to his other grandson, kneeling to make sure he was doing fine. When he did so, he then hit the boy at the back of his head harshly, Lovino groaning out and rubbing the area. He tried hard to not shed the slightest tear.

“Lovino, stop doing this! It’s dangerous! You can easily get lost, kidnapped and you wouldn’t see any of us again. Do you understand that?”

“I’m just learning to be a good fighter,” he tried to excuse.

“Why on earth would you want to be a fighter? You are only risking yourself and assuring yourself a horrible death. I would never let that be the faith to any Valenti.” The proudness to which he called the name, a decree that was like a god implementing it. Lovino had gotten used to rolling his eyes whenever he got this paranoid.

“That’s the point of practicing, Nonno. So I can get really good and then nothing bad will ever happen to me,” such a child seemed sure.

“No matter the kind of practices you do, there will always be a weakness your enemy will take advantage of. Before that, I prefer you chose something safer that doesn’t involve making your mother chase you across all of Naples to find you because you’re trying to keep it hidden from us.” He got much closer, grabbing him by the shoulders, hoping that the words would truly pass through his intense gaze.

“But I don’t…I don’t want to do something else…” Lovino was honest, tears even coating his eyes, an expression that hurt Augusto, that soothed his grip, until he let go, sighing.

“Lovino, there are many things for you to try!”

“He’s right, angelino. You might not like our business, but I’m sure there are other things that won’t have to make you fight so violently,” Renata came in, going down to his little level, joining her father. “You can become a banker, a smith.”

“A cook, a carriage driver, farmer.”

“Or a painter!” Feliciano himself added, raising his finished drawing high.

“Even a writer! You do write the most gorgeous things,” Renata reminded with a beautiful sway, truly proud of both her sons’ talents.

“It’s not as exciting…or cool…I want to be…like the stories, like the heroes in Spain who do so much for the people around them.”

“You can do just as equally without adorning a disguise and learning to use a sword.”

“Lovino…these stories are just that, stories to excite your mind and keep you hopeful. We all need this sort of escape from our dull, but they should remain as that. Let them do their job to protect, they know well the consequences and have prepared themselves for them, but you should focus on being safe…I’m sure is what the great…Red Mask would want,” Renata excited, twirling her son in a famous flamenco move to excite him and bring him back to their usual family joy. It was just enough to get Lovino laughing, that angry pout away and forgotten.

He missed that.

He missed how his mom could excite him, his little brother and grandfather so well after any little discomfort. Laugh, dance and play like no wrongs plagued the world. Why did these very plagues had to take her away? Why was the last he reminded of her sunshine being one tainted in blood, lifeless, greyed, continuing tears coating his eyes, his little brother joining along in bigger cries, in a desperate hold that begged her back despite the slashes and the long gone beat of her heart.

These dreams had been so commonplace to Lovino that he had learned to awake in calm, not the shouts, screams and tears of the past. He had learned to quickly put them on the back of his head, focused then on the movement of the sceneries outside the coach window, a shinning sun that glowed strongly on his face, alighting his eyes quite beautifully, Feliciano had to admit from his side of the coach. Lovino glared at his giggle, but Feliciano smiled on, probably the only one in the coach who was truly excited.

“I didn’t think you would take a siesta on such a short trip,” Augusto laughed himself.

“That boat trip over here was annoying, I couldn’t get much sleep,” he groaned, rubbing out the last tiredness from his face. “Still can’t actually. I just want to have a proper stable bed to sleep on.” He looked on to the window, hoping that they would soon reach the house that had that promise.

“I assure that you will for tonight,” his grandfather excited, for he was joyous to see this new house, alongside Feliciano.

“Please tell me more about it, Nonno. I still can’t get over how beautiful it sounds,” Feliciano dreamed, practically making himself jump more than the coach was actually doing as they rode on.

“Well, it has four floors if you count the attic and basement. It used to belong to a Spanish count who married a Marroquin princess, so he adorned it as much as he could to please her, yet she continued to insist that it was still too Spanish,” he laughed.

“Please don’t tell me their ghosts haunt it,” Feliciano feared, already cowering and wanting to hide, making Lovino roll his eyes.

“Nooo,” Augusto made sure, placing a comforting hand on Feliciano’s shoulder. “They left to Morocco many years ago where they died peacefully, so hopefully there are no evil spirits in this house. Of course, you’ll each have your own room,” he grinned, just as Feliciano jumped and clapped, Lovino sharing a smirk, trying not to show just how as excited he was as his brother for this.

Not that he minded Feliciano, but after sharing a room all these years, it was a breath to finally have their own privacy and area for each.

“We’ll have many servants, designated places to have our breakfast, lunch and dinner. They’ll be a lot of space to read, relax, paint, work. We’ll have a beautiful garden and…” Augusto halted, snapping and trying to remember anything else of importance that could be missing. “Oh! Of course! Antonio!” He finally realized.

“Antonio?” Lovino questioned.

“He’s a cleric to the main church of Valencia who will be staying with us,” he tried to excite.

“A cleric? What for? Do you seriously want somebody constantly giving us liturgies,” Lovino was annoyed.

“No, but I thought having a spiritual guide in our home could serve as an anchor in times of hardship, someone to go to when we feel hopeless and ourselves is not enough. He is much closer to God and can help immensely with our salvation. He is also training in his vocation and his friar suggested our home as a place to complete his testing.”

Lovino was not swayed, despite how his younger brother smiled and was expectant, surely excited to meet this Antonio.

“Are we paying him?”

“Only housing and food. It’s mostly volunteering.”

Good, because Lovino did not want them using the family expenses for such a thing.

He continued to show an obvious annoyance about this though, one Augusto spotted. “Why are you not pleased?”

“I don’t like having someone else in the house, it makes me think you just did it to replace Mamma. I think the three of us is just enough, we don’t need somebody else getting into our business.”

Sure, it was a reminder nobody liked to think about, always a straining silence that made Lovino momentarily worry that Feliciano would start crying as he usually did, but he liked to make himself clear and avoid anything that could be unnecessary for their small family.

“It was mostly to help a fellow man of the church, someone who has lived here long enough to help us with adjusting. I also really like the extra company. His room will be at the other side of the house, so if you don’t want to come into contact with him, I believe it shall be easy.”

That did enough to remove layers of frustration on Lovino’s face, losing interest in the conversation and keeping his eyes locked on the passing outside.

Finally, the large house was spotted, surrounded by a beautiful garden that was reminiscent of the ones in Italy, probably made in that specific style with them in mind. They entered through a gorgeous gate, then upwards to the heights of the house, shinning splendidly now in a style more of the region, Spanish, harsh reminder of where they went to, how far they left home behind and how there was no turning back.

They continued upwards until the coach stood right in front of the grandeur entrance, servants lined and welcoming with bows, ready to start their business as soon as possible. Lovino did not expect such devotion so suddenly, such compliance, some coming even to begin picking their bags from the coach to bring inside. Feliciano was as well startled, after all, the two brothers had never been used to servants doing all the little chores they had grown to do themselves back in Italy.

“Come along now,” Augusto instead smiled, used to this of course, for this was his life before he left to Naples, moving pass it all to begin the touring of the house.

Lovino and Feliciano moved hesitantly behind him, slow as they took whatever small intricacy that decorated the entrance splendidly, from painted designs, sculptures, vases, desks, even flowers. So distracted they were they didn’t even notice as their grandfather stopped to talk to someone.

“Lovino! Feliciano!” He called to them, then noticing the young man that was before them.

He was about their grandfather’s height, waved and messed dark brown hair, gorgeous green shinning eyes, with a youthful but strong and piercing facial structure that had Feliciano awing and wanting to sketch immediately, while Lovino tried hard to hide a blush at how absolutely charming he found him.

“These are my grandsons! Feliciano,” he introduced first, Feliciano happily going for a hug, jumpy and annoying to Lovino.

“Awww! So lovable! I already like you,” this handsome stranger smiled in earnest, which only made Feliciano more excited.

Lovino tried to move his thoughts away from his serene and full voice, giving him yet another shiver of delight.

Augusto smiled, then moving the other forward. “And my eldest, my heir and the possible future owner of my business, Lovino Valenti.”

Lovino in turn presented as that very business he was taught to show, only offering a handshake, quite a difference to a younger brother who had gone in and taken him in arms. The stranger had still smiled, taking Lovino’s hand in when Feliciano gave him the space. His hand was large, warm, Lovino couldn’t utter a single word.

“A pleasure to meet you both. Antonio Fernandez, at your service,” he introduced, gazing into Lovino’s eyes strongly, hypnotized and swayed so much he had dropped the handshake before it could intensify.

“He is the cleric I was speaking to you both about on the ride.”

What? No! That could not be possible! Lovino was thinking a mere cook or even a gardener, not a man of religion who would stay in their home simply as guidance.

“Nonno said you’ll be living with us.” Feliciano didn’t let his excitement dwindle for a second.

“Yes, I will, at least until I have proven my vocation. I hope to be a proper guest and to always teach about the holy readings in the most respectful manner that enlightens and always help us to choose the right path.” He bowed that moment, a single golden cross hanging from his neck, the only proof of his profession on his wear. “I was going to suggest Sunday Bible readings after mass and then discussion with your grandsons, if you wish,” he commented, which got a roll of Lovino’s eyes, ready to decline.

“That’s a wonderful idea! I’ll make sure my grandsons will attend.”

Leave it to his grandfather to decide things for him as usual.

To be respectful, he tried to hide a groan, while Feliciano jumped and clapped his hands.

“Will you like to join us? I’ll be giving them a tour of the mansion now.”

“Sure, I’m still trying to get to know this place myself.”

“Wonderful! Then come along! Come along all!” Augusto led them, eager to show them the kitchen first of all. Antonio let the brothers move first and so they took to their grandfather’s leading.

“He seems very nice,” Feliciano took Lovino’s arm lovingly, whispering, yet continuously looking back, making himself too obvious about what he was talking about. To prove it so, Antonio waved and Feliciano did so back.

“I don’t know if to agree with you. I feel like I’ll be annoyed by him at some point,” Lovino made sure to say softer.

“I really don’t think that’ll be the case. I’m sure we’ll have lots of fun and he can even be a new friend to us. I’m actually excited for the lessons he suggested.”

As Augusto started talking and introducing the continuing rooms, Lovino didn’t find the chance to reply to Feliciano’s optimism about the new guest. He kept glancing to him, sticking with his skepticism, even as the other smiled and continued to shine as friendly.

It was silent, one that Lovino would have found ideal, but now it was…empty and…weird.

He thought he would be excited about having his own room, his own bed, his own desk to write and focus, with an amazing view of the garden and the shinning city in the distance to add. But it was just that, silent, practically empty if even his own presence and the flickering candles. He kept looking back, as if expecting his brother to say whatever silly nonsense just occurred to him, or wanting him to talk about his writing or newest reading. He would sigh, having to accept this new loneliness and the true dull of the night.

Footsteps, suddenly interrupting the somber air, coming near, to his door and it was open, and there was the familiarity of his little brother he had actually missed.

“Hi, Lovi!” He greeted as every night, jumping upon his bed as custom.

“What are you doing here?”

“I couldn’t sleep.”

“And how is coming here the answer to that?”

“I can’t sleep alone,” he shyly admitted, such a bright innocence in his eyes that was like looking back to a small child.

Lovino sighed, closing the book he was writing on and putting it aside. He stood and took his usual position to sleep, getting covers and everything, Feliciano doing the same pull to get underneath the blankets as well. They settled as they usually did, as they were back in Naples.

“We really should start changing this,” Lovino commented silent, to go along the stillness of the night.

“My room is too lonely!”

“Your room is right next to mine.”

“It’s still not enough. I missed having someone to talk to.” Feliciano got even nearer.

“We can always talk during the day, Feliciano. It’s not like we’re living in different parts of the city or I’m dead.” Even mentioning the word so loosely like this, was still like an echo that brought the wrong reminders, the images they hated having repeated in their heads, Lovino knowing he had to do something to drive themselves away from it before they were succumbed.

“You can sleep here for tonight but promise me you’ll soon start staying in your own room. Nonno paid a lot of money for this house, you should really start using it and learn to be by yourself…you know we won’t always be with you.” Lovino had learned it the hard way and Feliciano hand long been due to do so as well.

“I…I’ll try.” There was doubt in his voice, but Lovino focused on trying to sleep. “Even if…” Feliciano wanted to continue to talk as always, “I do know that I won’t always be with you, I still…want to spend anytime I can with you both. When…mamma left, I learned to understand and really use my time. We…never know what could occur that could bring us apart, so to be sure, I…try to get whatever chance I get.” He came much closer, and Lovino couldn’t deny the comfort his younger brother was asking. He wrapped an arm around him, bringing them both close, as they had been used to for several years.

“Fine…just go to sleep.”

Feliciano hummed in agreement, eyes shut and settling easy in his arms. “Story…” he chuckled, Lovino groaning.

“We’re too old for that!”

“We never are! Come on, were in Valencia! You can’t hide that you’re excited that we’re in the city of the Red Mask!” And Feliciano widened his eyes as if the sun was in all its splendor outside.

Lovino stuttered, looking away and blushing, all the shields he had raised to keep himself from going on about exactly that crumbling. “I am not going to!”

“You should tell me the one with the mountain heist in the alps! I think it’s my favorite!” Feliciano was expectant, as if his mere words could already get him to start.

Lovino’s mouth trembled, wanting to continue to deny him, but another part of him was so anxious for the adventure, for the travel to bring them away from this dull room.

“Maybe he’ll be able to hear you!”

“Who?”

“The Red Mask!”

Lovino huffed, “it’s not like he goes jumping about our garden normally.”

“In many of the stories, he does so all around the city! This is still part of the city! He could be right in this house!”

Lovino rolled his eyes…yet looking out the window for the longest while…as if the breeze could truly be his passing, with the legendary red cape flowing and greeting the night. He gave up, sighing, and beginning. “There was once a mine with so many treasures, with jewels galore that attracted several workers to come, hoping to take their piece. Among those many was the fiendish Prince Louie, who had a dark plan to take it all at the cost of putting all the workers at risk. Word had reached Valencia and the Red Mask decided that he would not let it happen…”

Feliciano smiled, hummed, and cuddled closer to his brother, eyes closed as he imagined the tale well in his head…as did Lovino.

Antonio had had warmer nights, the breeze today chilling, but the heaviness of his cape and attire did well to shield whatever shiver that could escape. Out of the main activity of the city, his thread was more difficult, especially in the gardens and small trees of what was now the Valenti villa. At least the darkness worked better to keep himself hidden as he swung, skipped, ran, flew and held high across the forest, passing by small villages, raising the height of a hill until he reached a familiar unkept building. It seemed desolated as he intended it to be, over the past years using entrance with a hidden door at the top to make it difficult for any passerby to get in unless they were taught by himself. He fell well without warning, without strain or difficulty, and yet, although all who were there waited for him, they showed no surprise, simply turning to him waiting on his new words. With them just having accepted a new member in their mist, a mysterious, young, blue eyed addition they called to as ‘Hierro’ or the Iron mask, Antonio had lately decree to not let their masks fall until they got to know him better. Although it would be a release to remove it that instant, he kept it, walking forward, accounting all to be there.

“Good evening and our warmest welcome, mon cher,” Alas would introduce, with a dramatic flare and plentiful pure white feathers to decorate his movement like a flag as he bowed.

“Did you find anything out?” Hierro instantly asked, in a solemn tone, not wasting time in knowing.

Of all the people to ask so quickly.

Antonio sighed, “it’s only been a day, I really wasn’t able to speak to them that much.”

“Oh, but did you see the house? Was it lovely? I’ve heard it has many beautiful flowers,” Flores excited, clapping her hands and jumping, the flowers in her suit making only clearer her curiosity.

“He is not there to garden, Flores. We shouldn’t distract him from what we’re really supposed to be talking about,” Inca imposed, wanting instant information as Hierro awaited it still.

“Did you at least meet the Valenti?” Alas knew was their biggest concern.

“Yes. Augusto, Feliciano and Lovino Valenti.”

“That’s it?” Joya was impressed at how little. With their importance, they were expecting a larger family.

“Yes, it’s only Augusto with his two grandsons.”

“And you didn’t find anything else?” Oscuro hoped.

“It was only the first day. We only did a viewing of the villa. I could barely even talk to his grandsons.”

Sol could notice a small disappointment, but not because of their current mission…there was something else in that tone that was fleeting but she managed to catch. “Do you think they have suspected you?” She wondered aloud.

“Highly doubt so. They don’t know the city, what’s going on or the people. Even if they did, it wouldn’t be enough to arise suspicion.”

“You are just An-” Neblina was about to mention, but one look at Hierro reminded that they had to keep their names hidden for now, “-just a boring old clergy man for now.”

“For as long as I can keep it.”

“What’s left to do then?” Alas questioned for all.

“What we have always done. Keep your heads up, protect the city, all those you can and I’ll let you know when the time comes to take the next course of action.”

They all nodded, beginning to settle off in their own directions, whatever would work best to keep themselves in the dark of the night. Antonio usually waited for all to leave before he took his own, but this time, Sol, Laura, remained by his side, a sign that she wanted to continue to speak of other matters just the two of them.

“What is it?” Antonio knew well this sign.

“Just curious,” she smirked.

“About what?” At least he could relax and smile himself knowing now it wouldn’t be anything serious.

“One of the brothers has taken your fancy…or I’m mistaken and it has been taking by old man Valenti.”

Antonio laughed, confident to be able to take off his mask and let the cool air soothe his now free skin. “What made you believe that? I really didn’t speak much about them.”

“I’ve learned to tell when you want to be friendly.”

“I’m always friendly.”

“More than usual.” She was inching closer to something.

“What? His grandsons were cute. One seemed sweet, the other like he could best me in a fight. It will be exciting to get to know them better.”

“Could best you in a fight huh?” She teased, ridding of her own mask by now.

“Yes. He seemed powerful…there was something in the way he shook my hand,” and he smiled in a way Laura knew well.

“Was he handsome?”

“Very much so.”

“Mhm…” she knew, she didn’t have to hear another word…but she did have to warn. “Antonio…remember the mission though…and be cautious.”

“You know I’ve always been.”

“Not when attractive Italians are involved,” she laughed, taking her own leave that instant.

It didn’t give him a chance to respond, standing behind to relax and wonder about her words still.

He knew well his mission, his goal, and Laura should know well herself how it was hard to break his resolves, especially when it involved a Montaje.

< prolouge IV

chapter 2 >

#The Red Mask #spamano #spamano fanfiction #spamano fic #spamano fanfic

12 notes · View notes

ragewerthers · 5 years

Text

Happy Endings

Summary: It's everything Gladio could've wanted. Love... romance... but will there be a happy ending?

A/n: This was a quickly inspired fic and was an absolutely ridiculous idea I wanted to write out before it got stuck in my head for ages! It’s written for it’s silliness and I hope it can get a laugh or a smile!

You can also find it on AO3 at: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18126737

Word Count: 1709

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

Summer of 1898, Insomnia Manor:

The nickering of the horses within the stables had always been calming to Gladiolus. Being raised a stable hand for the Royal Family suited him perfectly. He couldn’t imagine being one of the royal or elite up in their towers of gold and forced to mask their emotions and intentions behind fake smiles and large purses. Give him a good hard days work anytime over a stuffy gala.

However, while he rebelled at the idea of a life of unearned leisure there was one leisure of which he yearned.

Ignis Scientia.

Advisor to the crowned Prince of Lucis and one of the most gorgeous creatures to walk the streets of this city, Ignis was a treasure beyond mortal worth to the stable hand.

The first time he’d ever laid eyes on the man he’d been standing at the head of the carriage, checking the fastenings of the harness once more as the Prince and his Advisor stepped into the cab.

Amber eyes met verdigris green and it felt like the earth shook beneath his feet.

While Gladio was all tanned, strong muscle that rippled with every movement, Ignis was refined and accurate to an almost sharp precision. His tall frame leading more to agile movements that made the stable hand ache to see him in actions that were anything but proper.

It all started simply enough. Tossing the man a confident smile or a cheeky wink here and there only got him quickly rebuffed, the Advisor all but turning his nose up at the man and ignoring him in favour of chasing after his young protege.

This didn’t deter the stable hand.

Little notes found their way into the Advisors hand as Gladio held the coach door open and offered his hand to help the bespectacled man inside. The first few were quickly returned.

Then they were tossed out the cab window as they made their way down the path leading to the street.

Then… they were kept.

Cherished.

And soon little notes began to find their way into Gladio’s hands as well.

Chuckling to himself as he thought over the past few months, Gladio stood next to the manors prized Grey Stallion, Nyx, brushing out his coat as he cooled down from the recent return of a months trip of the royal family and their entourage to the lush lands of Leide.

“If you didn’t keep trying to show off to the pretty mares you wouldn’t get worked up like this and spatter mud all over yourself,” Gladio chided the stallion who only snorted and stomped his hoof just a little too close to Gladio’s foot.

An answering whicker of a laugh made its presence known behind him and he narrowed his eyes as he turned around to see the white gelding that was Nyx’s harness mate, staring at him with haughty disapproval.

“Don’t you egg him on, Ravus. You’re just as bad at showing off,” Gladio warned, turning back around only to hear his tack box of brushes being overturned, followed by a snort of derision.

“Am I interrupting something?” a clear, posh voice asked from the end of the stables aisleway.

Instantly glancing up, Gladio caught the sight of his beloved, his heart beating faster in his broad chest.

As the notes had passed between them all those months ago, something had sparked and then grown into a flame that refused to be quenched.

With every look shared between them the flames were fanned and a heat grew and grew until they thought they would both combust from it.

Neither had acted upon the desire that swept them both up, but now… in this moment after being away from each other for so long… the need was too strong.

Gladio moved forward quickly, dropping the curry comb he’d been using into a pile of straw near Nyx’s stall.

Ignis walked forward with equal fervor, the fire of desire burning bright in his eyes as he took in the tall and robust figure in front of him.

Gladio’s hair was undone and fell in waves over his shoulders, his shirt open against his sweat soaked chest to help with the heat of the summer, but it also revealed the defined muscle beneath.

Ignis was all legs and angles, but his broad shoulders tapered down into a lithe waist that Gladio ached to get his hands on. The advisor wore a white shirt beneath a pressed vest and slacks. Gladio wanted nothing more than to get to the gorgeous and pale skin he knew lay underneath for him to claim with lips, teeth and tongue.

In an instant, Gladio had swept Ignis up in his strong, muscled arms, strong hands sweeping up to cradle the back of his head as he brought his lips to the other mans in a deep and fervent kiss.

A gasp of want and need escaped the proper young Tenebrean and his hands came up to fist in Gladio’s luscious hair, a growl rumbling in the toned chest of the stable hand.

“Gods, how long I’ve wanted this,” Ignis gasped, turning his head to the side as Gladio ravaged his neck with nips and kisses, his tongue tasting over his pulsepoint before nipping at it lightly.

“Gods, how long I’ve wanted you,” Gladio growled against the sensitive skin, eliciting a shiver from the other man and only kindling the fire that had completely overtaken the both of them.

Gladio’s hands reached down to squeeze at the Advisors arse, before hoisting him up with his hands under his thighs.

Ignis was quick to submit, legs wrapping around Gladio’s strong and muscled torso, the movement helping to undo buttons that were hardly being held into place and letting the stable hands muscles be put on full display for Ignis to see.

“I need you, Ignis,” Gladio groaned against his mouth as he carried him towards the feed room, settling him in a bed of straw as he began to undo the vest and buttons of the other shirt. “Oh.. oh yes… b-but, Gladio... wh-what… unnnh… what about the horses?”

Gladio, who had been kissing a path down Ignis’s exposed chest and stomach toward the growing bulge in his pants paused and looked up at him with amber eyes that shined like refined aged whiskey.

“Let them watch.”

“OH! Ooooh~...”

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

“-adio?”

“Gladio?”

“Gladiolus?”

“Gladiolus have you heard a word of what I just said?”

“Hu-wha?” Gladio asked, snapping his head up from his newest purchase from the bookstore down the street from Ignis’s apartment. It claimed to be the story of a romance that could span centuries with a heat unlike any other. How could he say no to that?

Ignis was stood in front of him, arms crossed and looking over the Shield with an amused and exasperated look.

“Um… yeah?” Gladio said, his cheeks darkening slightly as he slowly closed the book and attempted to hide it under a nearby sofa cushion… in full view of the man he was trying to hide it from.

Rolling his eyes Ignis quickly snatched the book from his partner and looked over the cover, a smile threatening to break over his lips.

“Oh, love. I thought you were done reading this filth. ‘The Stallion of the Stable’? Really?” Ignis teased, looking over the cover which showed a man who was far too oiled holding a woman with her bosoms only just being held into her dress, looking as if she was going to faint into a pile of straw. “I feel dirty even holding this.”

“Hey! There’s some good writing in these!” Gladio grumbled back as he swiped the book from Ignis’s giving hands. “It’s a really good story about a man who falls in love with someone who is out of his reach, but their love is so strong they still find a way to be together. How is that filth?!” Would Gladio defend his book to the last? Absolutely. Would he ever admit that he’d inserted himself and Ignis into the starring roles?

Never.

This time Ignis did smile and he couldn’t suppress a chuckle.

“With the amount of attention you give those books it’s amazing I don’t get jealous. Should I act as some of those women then to get your attentions?” he teased, eyes sparkling with mischief. In an instant, Ignis had his wrist pressed to his forehead, walking closer to a kitchen chair nearby and leaning against it.

“Oh my stars! I am so overwhelmed by your manly manness of manliness!” he swooned, putting on his best southern accent which sounded more like he was drunk then anything else. “How am I… a dainty thing as I am… supposed to think when I have such a rough and rugged stallion so near-no G-GLADIO! G-Get your hahaha-hands off mehehe!”

Gladio was a patient man, but even he could only take so much teasing and had rushed the poor Advisor, sweeping him up into his arms and tickling the daylights out of him. Poor Ignis was only able to snort and laugh wildly as he batted ineffectually at the hands attacking his sides and stomach.

“What was that, Iggy? You makin’ fun of me?” Gladio teased as he nuzzled his scruff against Ignis’s neck and earned himself a renewed round of ridiculous giggling.

“St-stahahap! Stop I’m.. Ihihi-I’m sorry!” he squealed before Gladio finally relented and swept the man up into his arms bridal style, surprising the hell out of Ignis who found himself laughing for a whole other reason now. Ducking down quickly, the Shield easily stole the last of the giggles from Ignis’s lips and soon both were smiling too much to carry on.

“You’re such a nuisance,” Gladio chuckled as Ignis wound his arms around his neck and pressed a few more soft kisses against his jaw, making him hum happily at the attention.

“Yes, but it gives me the results I wanted. Do I have your attention now?” Ignis purred playfully.

“Definitely,” Gladio murmured in return, pressing a more heated kiss back against Ignis’s lips as he slowly began to make his way down the hall to their bedroom.

Even if he didn’t finish his book tonight… there was still a happy ending in his future.

#ffxv #crack #gladiolus amicitia #ignis scientia #tickle fic #myfics #just a little tickling #mostly ridiculousness #i loved writing this XD #gladnis

16 notes · View notes

chubbyooo · 5 years

Text

Blurred Lines : Chapter 4 - Gacen

chapter four adding everyone favorite depressed smuggler

Ash looks after the ship while Gacen bums around the ship (writing this made me proper sad :( why do i do this to my precious children)

Ash was setting the ship up for a hyperspace jump, they had a long way to go to deliver their cargo so best settle in for a long night. She couldn’t think straight at the moment, she hadn’t seen Gacen in a couple hours which could be very bad, she wanted to go find him but knew she had to not smother him that would just make it worse.

As if in response to her worry she heard him enter the cockpit. “hey Ash you got the route setup” he said as he plopped down into the co-pilots chair feet up on the controls

“Yeah I've got the route plotted and we’re ready to go into hyperspace” she was rather new to piloting but thought she’d been picking it up fairly fast with Gacen’s help

“I should probably check just in case don’t wanna end up inside a giant space worm or something” he said with a slight chuckle, he leaned over the console catching himself on about 10 buttons “don’t worry about that it’s probably unimportant” Ash made a mental note of which buttons to reset once he had finished. “pretty good but look here” he pointed at a point in the route near a black hole “this is a bit too close to the black hole it’s probably best not to risk it”

Ash was surprised “but I've calculated the risk and it’s small enough that making that journey will be worth it to get us there sooner” made sense to her they would get paid more even if there was damage

“yeah i know but better safe than sorry right, also if we add” he pointed to another star “this we can pick up lunch at a place that actually serves good food rather than bug food” he made a good point usually food at the drop offs was quite unenjoyable

“alright sure why not” Ash said probably best not to press it

“excellent” he said moving back to his reclined position, he slipped for a second and nearly fell over “I’m fine i’m fine don’t worry” he said scrambling back into his seat

“I wasn’t worried” Ash said with her arms folded she swore he’d lose his head without her “so you doing okay?” she asked probably best to at least ask

“what do you mean” Gacen said with a puzzled look on his face

hmmm she didn’t want to be too obvious “you been stable” she said with an eyebrow raised

“oh cmon Ash trust me i’m fine you’d know if there was a problem trust me” exactly that’s why she was worried but he was right she should trust him

“okay good i’m gonna bump this into hyperspace we got a while in there so make sure you don’t get too bored” she said hopefully implying the right thing

“yeah i’m gonna take a nap easiest way to combat boredom” he said with a smile he walked out the cabin with his usual chipper walk which was a good sign.

Ash stayed at the console for a bit making sure that every precaution was taken before leaving it to make the trip, she had an alert for if they came out of hyperspace, a remote pilot, the list went on. She had tried to install some upgrades to the ship after agreeing to join Gacens crew, the ship was royally unequipped and could fall apart any minute, now it could probably manage the Kessel run, Gacen said that was some kind of hard maneuver or something. Speaking of Gacen a nap didn’t seem like the worst idea and it would be good to check on him.

Ash got up and made her way to the bunks but when she arrived there was no sign of Gacen oh no this was bad she began to look for him checking for alcohol as she went there was none last time she checked, she made sure of it. None in the kitchen area but his hiding spots were more of the issue, None in the chess table good, none in the holopad and none in the medbay hidden as medicine. This meant he either already had it and he had a lot or Ash was overreacting.

Where was he though? she’d normally found him by now, she searched the ship one more time and still couldn’t find him in any room, the only place he could still be is in the turret. She made her way to the bottom of the turret “Gacen? you up there” She could see his feet but still polite to ask

“huh wha-- oh hey Ash what’s up” Gacen seemed disorientated which was a very bad sign

“what are you doing up there i thought you were having a nap?” god this was going so wrong he better not be drinking himself to death up there

“nap? oh well... i like to nap up here sometimes ya know the hyperspace trails they’re cool n stuff” that’s a suprisingly good lie but his stupor and dazy way of speaking was giving it away big time

She would have to trick him down “well i’m going to take a nap so need someone up front” obligation seemed a good road to take

“oh well... sure i can do that i guess give me a minute to come down you just go ahead and go to bed” yeah sure and leave you like that fat chance at least he wasn’t slurring his words

Ash had to keep this charade up so went to the bunks but stayed awake. She heard a loud crash about 2 minutes later and made her way to the bar area fists clenched. Gacen was sat there on the floor drinking from a flask “uh A---Ash um this uh where did this flask come from” he said barely comprehensible “i think it’s haunted”

“God dammit Gacen why do you keep doing this” Ash was shouting now this was not the first time and she was really trying to help him she was furious

“alright fine okay i can’t do it are you happy now you win I’m a drunk and you’re in control” Gacen said retreating into himself beginning to drink more from the flask

“this is not what i want Gacen i want to help you why do you want to do this to yourself” she said snatching the flask from Gacens hands

“you know damn well why, everything is garbage, everyone leaves and i’m left alone i can’t do it anymore it’s too hard” he said trying to stand up but stumbling back to his knees

“so what you’d rather just drink yourself to death” Ash was really trying she had a lot of patience for him because of all he’d done for her but she could not tolerate that

“YES i would what’s the point in not i don’t exactly have any family who would be sad about it” Gacen seemed so lost Ash had no idea what to do she was terrible at talking to people regularly how did she bring her best friend out of this

“how do you know if there’s a point if you’re never sober hell when was the last time that you were” Ash really hoped that would it through to him

“i don’t wanna be sober because then i start thinking and when i start thinking i can’t stop and feel just as bad” Ash knew he’d been through a lot but he still hadn’t told him half of the story how was she supposed to help if he wouldn’t open up

“please tell me when was the last time that you were sober” she needed to know how long she had been lied to

“a little after we got out of Belsavis, what do you care anyway?” WHAT a little after Belsavis the whole time they’d been working together she was utterly furious she wanted to slap him so bad but contained herself

“of course i fucking care Gacen i’m not angry at you for no reason i’m angry because you’re my friend and i want my friend back the one who could bring me out of a bad mood with his stupid jokes and show me right from wrong when i was too stubborn to understand. You’re not the only one who lost people you’re all I've got now but i don’t know if i can keep doing this if you’re always drinking trying to die of alcohol poisoning” Ash was tearing up at this point she wasn’t familiar with this sensation what do people normally do with tears where do they go?

Gacens face changed though maybe it worked “oh i...i just thought you wanted me to be better so i could help” Ash was shocked did he really not realize that she just needed her friend back “you really want me to be better for me?”

“of course i do i know i’m not good at showing it but i really care about you Gacen, please just get better for me?” Ash didn’t like admitting these sort of things but this seemed like it was worth it

“Okay Ash i’ll try i promise it’ll be a slow process and i’m still gonna drink but i won’t drink myself to death” Gacen said with a half smile that was a half victory for Ash it’s better than nothing and he at least understood now.

“okay thanks buddy i really appreciate it” Ash needed a rest after that she felt so overwhelmed.

“good now i’m gonna take a nap on this nice cold floor i’ll see you in the morning” with that his head hit the metal and he passed out

Ash picked him up and moved him too the bed, even as dead weight he was the easiest thing to carry. “good night Gacen you stupid fool” Ash said with a smile and left him...

#swtor #my swtor #swtor oc #swtor ocs #Gacen #gacen zandar #smuggler #Ash #ash'shen'tor #trooper #fiction #swtor fiction #swtor fic #my fic #fic #oc fiction #oc fic #blurred lines #swtor fanfiction

11 notes · View notes

newyorkroleplay-blog1 · 5 years

Photo

PARKER VOS –

Birthdate: April 23rd, 1985 ( 34 ) Gender and Pronouns: Male, he/him Hometown: New York, New York Neighborhood: Morris Park, The Bronx Occupation: Security Guard Faceclaim: Scott Eastwood Trigger Warnings: Bombs, Death, PTSD, Torture, War.

BIOGRAPHY –

Parker grew up in a house in New York with his parents and younger sister. His parents, a lawyer and a teacher at the local High school, were loving parents who doted on their children whenever they could. They did not spoil them, however, wanting them to grow up to be independent and realize what it meant to have to work hard for what you wanted. Both of Parker’s parents had come from poorer families, who often went to bed hungry, and worked their way up. They actually owned more money than they let on – they were minimalistic in what they spent, never going overboard, but anyone who got a closer look at their house and its interior could easily tell they did not necessarily have to worry about money. So while Parker never had to worry whether his parents would be able to buy him his new school books or a new pair of sneakers when he needed it, his parents still expected him to earn his own money once he was old enough to do so and wasn’t happy with his pocket money anymore. He started delivering newspapers, getting up early every morning to work before school. After school, he found himself training with the school’s football team, always having been a fan of sports, but not necessarily the biggest fan of most of his team members. One reason was that most of them were looking at his younger sister in a way he didn’t like, the other reason that they never really seemed to grow accustomed to the idea that he had been caught in the showers with their team captain after a game one night. His sexuality was not something Parker ever felt the need to hide, seeing as his parents were very accepting of who he was, but he also wasn’t the type of guy who’d walk around and make it the topic of every conversation. He didn’t see the point in it – it was part of who he was, and that was it.

Truth be told, his younger sister had always been his best friend since she was born. He’d been looking out for her for as long as he could remember, even if she didn’t always necessarily need it. They were joined by the hip until their teenage years, where they separated ways at least sometimes to go have their own lives. Parker’s dad always hoped his son might follow in his footsteps, make it into law school and that they would be working together one day. But while Parker was smart, he wasn’t necessarily school smart. His grades ranged from decent to awful, even if he did sometimes put in some extra work. He knew he didn’t want to be caught up in law school, hating it. And while he told whoever asked him that his father was his idol, he had an even bigger idol - his grandfather. The man had been a war hero, who served in the army until he lost a leg – and even after that, he never quite arrived home. The stories he told were both gruesome and inspiring, and deep inside, it was Parker’s biggest wish to fight for his country just like his grandfather had done. Not forever, maybe for a few years before he would settle down and find something else to do. He wanted to do something good in this world, and in his eyes, fighting for his country was just that.

While it had been his plan to go and join the army right after high school, love ruined his plans. It had been shortly before his eighteenth birthday when he found out that love at first sight is indeed possible. In his senior year of high school, Parker fell head over heels in love, and his plans were ruined from there on. His desire to go join the army was still there, but greatly overshadowed by the desire to spend as much time as possible with his boyfriend. A year turned into two, then into three, with Parker working at several different jobs. It wasn’t fulfilling, but for the moment it was enough as his focus lay entirely on his relationship, happiness, and moving in with his boyfriend. But as much as Parker loved his life, he couldn’t deny that he still wanted to go join the army, and if only for a short time, seeing as he couldn’t bear the thought of being too far away from his loved one for too long. To his delight, his boyfriend supported him when he finally dared bring his wish up to go and do it now just a few months after his 25th birthday. A year later, he was already sleeping in a dusty tent on the other side of the world. War was everything he had imagined, yet not what he had imagined at all. It was rough, but Parker felt like he was doing something good. The long-distance relationship wasn’t easy though, reduced to a few Skype calls and short leaves here and there. To him, it was worth it despite the pain.

But one night, it all ended for Parker Vos.

It had been a mission that wasn’t really planned. Parker was ushered out of his makeshift bed shortly after midnight, sent out into the darkness to fight the enemy once more. Except this time, luck wasn’t on their side. Maybe it was bad luck, maybe it was an ambush – no one ever found out, and Parker doesn’t remember much except for the earsplitting sound of a bomb exploding near him, screams, bodies flying through the air, and hot searing pain taking over his back. Then it all turned black. One month later, his parents, sister and boyfriend were informed that Parker had died in battle; his dead body nowhere to be found, but hardly any chance left of him still being alive. They had been searching for him and those who got lost with him, and there was no hope left. While his loved ones attended a funeral for an empty casket, Parker was on the other side of the world, hurdled up in a tiny cell with two other soldiers. Caught by the enemy, they were interrogated over and over again in an attempt to get word on the strategy of the US. Some days, hungry, thirsty, and with aching wounds, both from the explosion and the enemy’s interrogation techniques, Parker wished it would all just end.

It felt like an eternity until one day, the door to the small cellar was pulled open, light flooding inside, and this time the hands pulling him outside were not rough and annoyed, but carefully guiding him to a medical transport out of there. He found himself being interrogated once more once he had recovered, this time by his superiors, in an attempt to find out as much as they could. And then Parker found himself on a plane going home. It had been two years since Parker last set foot in his hometown – and New York had changed. Everything seemed different, and he often found himself feeling like a stranger to a place he once knew like the back of his hand, even after reuniting with his family and ex-boyfriend. Even now, so long after his return, and despite finding himself a new place to live with his dog and now boyfriend, what happened to him still overshadows his usually happy mood. His mental state is far from stable, as he only recently started doing proper therapy – and every time he wants to go on with life, his past throws him two steps back.

PERSONALITY –

( + ) encouraging, hard working, passionate. ( - ) absent minded, possessive, restless.

#all #male #scott eastwood #parker vos #bronx

3 notes · View notes

rona-1776 · 6 years

Text

Family Secrets

Summary: Keith knows who he is. He's a paladin of Voltron. But just because he knows who is doesn't mean he's not curious of his own past. There are still things he has no idea about. Especially about his mother. Who was she? Was she also Galra? Was the knife he now has belong to her? If she was an alien why was she on earth? Why was he abandoned by her? One day he finds a file at the Blade’s base. He realizes it has information about an important part of his past. He needs to know more but is being refused information. Now, Keith is determined to found out the truth with or without help.

Rating: T Trigger warnings: cursing, anxiety attacks, abandonment issues, light violence and blood mention Relationships: Platonic Keith and Pidge, platonic Keith and Lance Characters: Keith, Pidge, Lance, Kolivan, Galra OC - Keith’s mom

Hello! This is my fic for the @keithminibang! This was a lot of fun to work on and the longest piece I’ve ever written. Thanks to my great friend Abbey for betaing this for me! The art for this by burr-ell!

Link to this on Ao3!

--------

Chapter 1: Hidden

Keith had always been a person who wanted answers. He never liked things that couldn’t be solved and he hated when people deliberately hid things. It was why he was so furious at the Garrison. He knew that the Garrison was hiding something. There was no pilot error on the Kerberos mission, but they didn't want bad press. Ever since then, he'd been trying to find answers to any question he came across. That was why he wanted to find Shiro, find the Blue Lion, and learn where he truly came from. He told the Blade of Marmora during the trial that it didn't matter where he came from. That he was a Voltron paladin. But still the ache in his chest every time he looked at his knife is too much to bear. It held his past and he wanted to uncover it. He had no one to ask either. Shiro only knew he had it when they met, and that his dad might know, but he left when he was younger and has no idea where he is. He had no idea who is mother was either. Before he was able to form memories of her, she was out of his life.

He wished he knew more about his past. About his family. The only memories he had about his father were close to none. Some of them he remembered his dad preparing meals for him to eat before rushing out the door, and returning home almost a week later. He was always tired, bags under his eyes, never smiled, his clothes in a mess. It was like that for a while until one day he just didn’t come home. Keith was only 7 years old and was forced to grow up quickly to take care of himself. He didn’t have his mom around, though, that was when he needed her the most.

After that, Keith wanted to know why she was gone. Why did she leave? Was it because of him? Was he a bad kid? For a long time he had just settled on the fact that she took one look at him and decided she didn't want him and left. Now with his dad abandoning him as well he started to believe it was his fault. It hurt to think about. It hurt to think that his own mom wouldn't want him, but it was the only thing he could think of. Why else would she leave right after his birth? From what he gathered from his dad, she left a month after he was born and left nothing but the knife he had now. His dad had no idea where she was going and she never stated if she would return. She left no photo or any evidence that she even existed.

Without his mother or father around, it was only a matter of time before child services had come. He was immediately taken to a foster home, where he was only allowed to take his clothes with him. All his other belongings they forced him to leave behind. The one thing he smuggled in was his knife. Even as a kid he knew that in the home he was going to, the people in charge would take it from him. It was his only family connection and he needed it to know about his mother.

Every night while the other kids slept, he would duck under his covers and look at the blade. The glowing stone was what he always studied. He never knew what it was, but he knew it wasn't normal for a stone to glow on its own like that. The dark purple stone held a lighter purple symbol in the middle that emanated the light. Keith, every night, tried to research and find out what it was. Unfortunately, he always ended up stuck and wrapped up the blade and hid it under his pillow. His life was like that for 8 years. Constant moving around, family after family rejecting him, asking for the “cute kids”, and all in all having a shitty childhood.

Keith was 15 when he finally decided to run away from foster care. He knew that trying to make it on his own without the constant abuse from his foster parents would be more beneficial to him. He stopped trying to hide his knife, instead hooking it to his back in a sheath he made that connected to his belt. Every now and then he would take it out while hiding behind a dumpster or some other structure and just look at the blade. In some way when he was alone the blade seemed to bring a sort of comfort to him. When he was feeling lost, sometimes he found solace. He knew it was connected to his abandonment, which should have brought him loneliness or even hatred, but it brought the opposite when he needed it in those lonely times.

Keith wandered around from city to city, town to town. He still only had the clothes he kept from when he was taken from his home. It had been years, and eventually these clothes became too small for him. The shirts he had were stretched out and they no longer fit him well. The jeans he wore were tight and stopped above his ankles. His childhood clothes no longer fit him and he needed new ones. He resorted to stealing other people's clothes from clothing lines outside their homes. He made a quick run through a strangers yard and picked up a red jacket the he ended up cutting the bottom off of, simple black shirt and black jeans, and got rid of his old ratty sneakers in exchange for some boots that he, again, stole. It wasn't the best, but it was better than nothing, and when you have nothing you take what you can get.

It was only when he met Shiro that his life turned around. The first time they met, Shiro caught Keith stealing some food from a cart from an unsuspecting seller in an outside marketplace. He had run away to a secluded area and barely started to bite into his stolen meal when Shiro walked up to him. Keith had shied away shielding his food, afraid it would be taken away. Instead he offered to pay for a real meal and help Keith. He could tell that he looked worse for wear. His clothes were getting dirty, he barely could keep up proper hygiene, and Keith was so starved for food that it slipped his mind if he could trust this stranger.

After that encounter, Shiro had become a constant in his life. However, it took time for him to be let behind Keith's walls. After being left behind by his real parents, abused by his foster parents, and never knowing who he could trust, he was wary of new people. Once he had learned more about Shiro, though, Keith finally had someone to rely on. Shiro encouraged him, helped him out of the streets and into his home. He took care of him when no one else would. He still didn't know why Shiro bad taken a random dirty teenager off the street into his home, but he was happy to finally have a person to rely on.

Through Shiro's encouragement he entered the Garrison not much later. Shiro was a captain. He was in charge of most flight missions. It was here that Keith learned his love of flight. He was taken into the simulator and Shiro gave him a quick lesson on flight just to show him the basics, but Keith fell in love with the flight. Even through the simulator he could almost feel what real flying would be like. He enlisted and quickly became top of class surpassing everyone else. He wanted to fly, wanted to see what else was out there, and maybe find the answers he needed. Everything was perfect. Everything was happening in his favor for once in his life. Everything seemed like he would finally be able to find what he was looking for.

But not everything is what it seems. Before graduating to the next class, the constant in his life went missing. Shiro went missing. The one who kept him stable and the one who took him in and taught him flight was gone. Pilot error, he was told. Keith knew immediately it was bullshit. Shiro was an amazing pilot with two others who were equally as skilled. The Garrison was covering it up. Covering the truth and trying to blame it on the people instead of speaking the truth. He confronted Iverson with rage, yelling about how Shiro and the others couldn't have failed a mission like this. He was so angry at the lies and was blinded by his own rage that he ended up punching Iverson in the eye and blinding him. Unfortunately, he was kicked from the school and had no way of getting information. No way of finding of Shiro. No way of getting answers he desperately needed. The universe was back to make his life hell.

After being kicked out he was still determined to find answers. He wouldn't stop until he knew the truth. It was the night that he found a little run down shack near the Garrison and found it to be the perfect place to start his search. Holed up in a little shack he found in the desert, he spent a year following a strange signal that was calling to him. He took pictures and hung them up on the wall of the shack hoping to connect something. The signal came from a cave where the walls were covered in lion drawings. Nothing made sense or connected. For entire year he spent his time in the desert or infiltrating the Garrison for anything he could find. He even gave up looking for answers for his blade. In that one year finding the one family that actually cared about him meant more than the one that abandoned him.

After a year of searching and digging, he had finally found Shiro. When a large object had crash landed on Earth he hadn't expected to find Shiro. All he knew was that the Garrison had it and it was probably important if they were trying to keep it private from the rest of the school. He broke into the place and took care of the scientists and ran into three other students who helped him get Shiro out.

It had been Lance, one of the three students, who unlocked the way to way to get to the Blue Lion and activate it. It took them out into space where he continued to meet Allura and Coran. They assigned Lance, Pidge, Hunk, Shiro, and him to their own lions to fight the Galra. Keith, along with everyone else, agreed to the job. He knew this was it. This was how he was going to get the answers he deserved. The answers to his past, his blade, and why he was left behind.

XXXXXX

The hallways in the base of the Blade of Marmora were silent. They were normally in this state; none of the members ever made much noise other than when they were training. Keith didn’t mind the silence, he even enjoyed at times. It was very different from the almost constant noise from the Castle of Lions. There was always some kind of noise going on there. Coran going on about his days when he was younger back in bootcamp, the mice putting on a show for Allura during free time, Lance talking with Hunk while he baked, even Pidge would be making some noise as she built some new machine for Voltron to use.

It was very different at the Blade’s base. No one really interacted or spoke to each other unless it was for information exchange or training. For him he’s only ever spoken to Kolivan or Regis for missions, other than that his interactions with other members were none. Another thing was they all wore their masks even when inside the base. Kolivan explained that it was for if someone hurt or killed you wouldn’t be able to attach a face to them and be able to focus better on a mission. It was cold he had to admit, but he also couldn’t disagree with him. Even so, Keith knew that if it came down to it, it didn’t matter to him if he knew their face or not. If he could save a life and bring them back he would do it without hesitation.

As he walked down the long hallway he passed a room that was dimly lit. Curious, he walked back and saw what he suspected to be the information room. Walking in he noticed multiple holographic screens that could show various documents at once. There was a control panel that spread the width of the room and in the middle of the panel he saw a handprint for identification. He placed his hand on it and immediately the screens lit up letting him access the files in the computer. He knew that the files inside were most likely just mission logs that were completed and information gathered, but he was still curious to see what it had. The Blade was very secretive and he hardly knew anything about the place, so this might be a good way to finally get some insight.

He started scrolling trying to see if any files could provide any information that he could to help the Blade or Voltron on their joint missions. As he scrolled he wasn’t finding much. It was mostly things he has already read or things that weren’t relevant anymore. He was about to leave when suddenly he started to come across names and the one that caught his eye first was his own. More specifically his last name. It shouldn’t have intrigued him knowing that it was just his own file. He told the Blade everything about him when he joined, but he was still curious. He swiped his finger across the screen to open it and what surprised was that there were two names in the file. One was labeled with his name and the other was labeled “Raye.” Immediately he opened it and felt nervous. Why was this person's name in his file when he didn’t even know who they were?

The very first thing in their file was about them and Keith opened it. It told him everything from her name, age, status in the Blade, and if she was full galra or not. There was a picture of her on the file and when he looked at it, his chest tightened. She was wearing the full Blade of Marmora suit and her hair was a bright white that was braided behind her back. She had a thin scar running down her right cheek. Her eyes were fully yellow like many galra he had seen while in space, but she was different than the rest. Even though in the picture her face held no emotion, she looked as though she hadn’t experienced as many of the horrors of war yet. It must have been when she first joined. But what was most jarring to Keith is that she looked almost like him. They had the same face shape, eyes and mouth.

“What…?” He went to see the other files she had opened up “missions”. In this it had all the missions that she had completed or were progress. He opened up completed and he was met with a log that she had written. There were a few missions that were dated back many years ago that she had done that he held no interest in. What he was interested in was one that was titled with the year 1997, and it appeared to be her first solo mission on Earth.

‘Mission Log 1: I have landed on planet Earth in accordance with the instructions for my mission. I will start looking for the Blue Lion and try to learn its whereabouts before Zarkon’s army finds and gets ahold of it. Intel by allies says that the Blue Lion is somewhere in the Milky Way Galaxy. I need to find it, retrieve it, and bring it back to the base so that Zarkon cannot get a hold of it. Voltron cannot fall into the hands of the enemy.’

She had been on Earth. She had been looking for the Blue Lion. It still didn’t tell him what he hoped it was but all he needed was to read a few more files to find out. He had a feeling. A feeling that he hadn't had in a long time. If this was his mother, he was going to find out and go look for her. He wanted answers about so many things. Mainly why did she leave him. If this log belonged to her did she leave because the mission was over? Why didn’t she stay then or take him with her? Why would she abandon her child on Earth without even giving an explanation as to why? He’s been so hurt for so many years and now he finally had a chance to know.

“Keith.” Keith looked away from the computer and saw Kolivan standing in the doorway of the room. “You are not allowed in here.” He walked in straight towards him, most likely to shut down the computer and take Keith out of the room. Keith glared at Kolivan his anger building up.

“Why wasn’t I told about this person? She’s on my file so she’s obviously connected to me. I think I have a right to know who it is.” He stood straight up intent on getting answers. Kolivan didn’t answer him. Instead he pushed Keith aside and put his hand on the panel which shut down the computer. The screens went back down making Keith unable to read anything more on the file.

“You do not have clearance to look through any files in here. What do you think you were doing exactly?” He was much taller than Keith and was intimidating without even trying.

“I was able to access no problem. I think I’m allowed to learn more about the people I’m working with. Besides, why am I not able to read files especially when there’s one that obviously connected to me? I have a right to know about this woman and I don’t know why you’re trying to keep it a secret from me.”

“You only need to know what we tell you. You are not allowed to sneak into our databases like this. Now head back to your quarters. That’s an order.” Keith continued to glare but eventually left. He knew that he would get nowhere fighting Kolivan like this. Keith was going to back in that room. He had to know. There was still so much that he needed to see, and from Kolivan’s reaction he knew that the Blade wasn’t going to tell him anything.

When Keith got back to his room he sat down on his bed and started to think. He didn’t get to read much on what he saw so he couldn’t make much much sense of it. However, he wanted to believe that the women he read was his mother. He wanted to believe it so much. The thought of actually finding after so many years finally seemed plausible. He was so close and he wasn’t going to let any closed lipped Blades keep him from finding his family. His blade had gotten him closer to the truth on who he was, but actually finding his mother would give him the closure and the answers that he had been desperately searching for.

Keith reached behind him and took out his blade. Before, looking at it he was so confused, knowing it held something about him that he didn’t know. He found only half the answers when he went through the trials. Looking down at the blade that he knows is hers, he feels that just with a little more research, he could find the answers that he needs. Tomorrow he told himself, he was going to go back into that room. He doesn’t care if he gets caught again all he needs is to get enough information on what he needs and get out. With that in mind and being ordered to stay in here, he put his blade away under his pillow and laid back down on his bed to go to sleep. He was ready to get some answers.

Tomorrow had come quickly. Apparently Kolivan had figured that Keith would try and sneak away back to information room because he did everything he could to keep him occupied. He went through rigorous training that keep him busy for hours, that he barely got a break to catch his breath. Even when given a break, Kolivan was watching him like a hawk as if he moved his eyes away for a second Keith would be gone. In his defense he wasn’t totally wrong. Keith himself was trying to find an opening for him to leave. He had been up all day from the early morning to now nearing late afternoon. He hadn’t been able to eat or have a chance to slow down since he got up. All day was a rigorous training and with exhaustion and lack of food, Keith was starting to run on fumes. For him it felt almost like he was back in the trials and he had barley held up during those.

“Start again!” Kolivan voice boomed from the side of the training deck. Keith was surrounded by three other Balde members all wielding their own blades. Keith took his starting position, eyes moving around the three to see who would move first. He was tired but he was still going to move forward and fight. He wasn’t going to let his tiredness win out during this fight.

Out of the corner of his eyes he saw the small movement of one of their shoulders and immediately Keith brought his sword up to block the attack. The loud clang of metal on metal rang out in the training room. Keith pushed them back with the sword and gave himself just enough room to block a second attack from behind him before dodging out of the way from a third attack. In this training cycle he wasn’t given much time to think. Attack after attack was thrown at him trying to find a weak point in him and exploiting it. Unfortunately for Keith, his hunger and exhaustion was doubling up on him causing him to trip in his movements and he was kicked in the gut and sent flying a few feet back. He landed and the air was knocked out of his lungs. Training was halted as he tried to get up on his knees and get air back into his lungs. He clutched his stomach and saw Kolivan walk up to him. He gathered enough of the strength he had to stand up and face him.

“You do realize what I’m trying to do here, right?” He asked Keith. He had his arms folded behind his back in his usual stance as he looked down at him.

“I know exactly what it is. You’re trying to keep me from that room I was in. You wouldn’t have to if you just told me what was in there since it had information connected to me.” Keith was trying to keep his composure as he glares up at Kolivan. His anger from being outnumbered and constantly beat up all day was taking a toll on him. His head was dizzy from lack on food and water and all to keep him from reading a few files that he didn’t know why were kept so secret in the first place.

Kolivan sighed. “I told you yesterday. The only things you need to know is what we tell you. There is no reason for you to go digging in the files. And I hope you weren’t planning on sneaking in there again today. You have been blocked from any and all access to the computer databases unless you have been given direct access from me.”

“What?!” Keith’s anger flared. “You can’t do that!”

“Yes, I can. You went against the Blade by going into that computer. You will be prevented from having all access to that room or its information unless I am there with you and permit what you can and cannot access.” Keith kept his glare. He couldn’t believe he was put on a lock down like some sort of child. However, that only made him more curious as to what they were hiding from him. “In addition, you are relieved from training for today. I suggest you go and eat. Someone will escort you to kitchen. Dismissed.” He turned and walked away from Keith as another Blade member came up next to him, presumably to lead him to the kitchen.

“I don’t need to be led to kitchen. I’ll be fine on my own.” He started walking away ignoring when they said they were ordered to be near him. It was humiliating but he wasn’t going to be led around and watched like this. It seemed overboard for something so small that he did.

He was followed to entire way to the kitchen. Did they really think that he was going to try and sneak away in this condition? Kolivan made it pretty hard for him to do anything other than go get some food before he dragged himself back to his room. He wanted to go, but his limbs felt heavy from use and his stomach was hurting from more than just hunger now. He quickly grabbed something and sat down at one of the tables in the kitchen. There were multiple long ones to fit many of the Blade members in the base. When Keith first saw them he was reminded of the long tables that you would see in the lunch rooms back on Earth.

As he started eating he was trying to think of a way to get back in and get what he needed. He was blocked from all access so just putting his hand on the panel like before wasn’t going to work again. The only way he could think of was by hacking but he didn’t know how to do that. Wait. Keith stopped for a minute. Hacking. Maybe Pidge could help him. She could hack into the data bases and just get what he needed. It wouldn’t be hard considering how they’ve done it to multiple Galra ships before. The only thing he would need to do is persuade her. He wasn’t sure if she’d agree, considering she’d be hacking into an ally’s databases. However, maybe if he convinced her it was to find his family she might be inclined to do so. He needed her help, and he knew it. He knew the Blade wasn’t going to help him any so he would enlist the help of his friends. He knew that there was a chance that she would say no and he would be on his own again. But he didn’t care. If he had to do this on his own he would. He was done with the cover ups, done with lies, and done with the Blade. He deserved answers and was going to get them one way or another.

#keith mini bang #my writing #voltron #keith (voltron)#pidge (voltron)#lance (voltron)#galra oc #kolivan (voltron)

17 notes · View notes

ginnyweatherby · 7 years

Text

Baby Mine (Part One)

I really missed writing Stanfou, so I decided to write a little something in the universe of “Hands” and “Family”... and that Little Something turned into a Long Something that I’ve had to break into three parts. It’s probably best read as one piece, but the thought of 6000+ words in a text post just seemed obscene.

So, this is the first part of my newest story - a modern AU with just a touch of dyslexic!Lefou. Lefou and Stanley make a big decision.

[Part 2] [Part 3]

Lefou could hardly believe Barney was almost nine, already. He had nearly lost all of his baby fat and was getting so tall. He had always been small for his age, but within the last year he had hit some sort of growth spurt and shot up so quickly that Lefou had to rush to the store to buy pants that didn’t show his ankles for school.

He saw Barney was sitting at the dining room table, concentrating on his reading homework for the day. Stanley was in the chair across from him, his eyes on the newspaper. He would occasionally pipe up if Barney mispronounced a word, or asked for a definition. Lefou was glad that reading seemed to come relatively easily to his son, having struggled with it himself for many years.

Lefou smiled as he fell into the chair next to Stanley. Barney had his brow furrowed as he focused on the book. He was reading aloud under his breath, and Lefou watched his dark eyes scan the page.

“That’s the end of the chapter,” Barney announced a few minutes later, looking up from the book, “can I be done now?”

Lefou laughed a light breath through his nose and nodded. “Is it a good story?”

Barney nodded, as he slid the book into his backpack. “I like it,” He hopped off of the chair without another word, and ran into his bedroom, presumably to continue the video game that Stanley had recently bought him.

“We’ve got a good kid there, you know,” Stanley commented, as he flipped the page of the newspaper. Lefou peered over and noticed he was only reading the comics section.

“I agree,” Lefou said, reading the Peanuts strip over his shoulder. “Then again, I raised him so I’m a little biased,”

Stanley closed the paper, and Lefou was only a little annoyed he didn’t get to finish reading Charlie Brown. “I have been meaning to ask you something about that, actually,”

Lefou raised an eyebrow, unsure where his husband was going with this. “About what?”

Stanley cleared his throat, suddenly looking awkward. “About... Barney...”

“Is something wrong?” Lefou asked.

“No, no,” Stanley shook his head, “well, not about Barney but...”

“Just say it, whatever it is,”

“You think I’m a good dad to Barney right?” Stanley asked in a rush.

Lefou softened. “Of course I do! You’re better with him than I am, sometimes,”

Stanley smiled, “Well, I’ve just been thinking... Barney’s getting older now. He’s nearly your height,”

“He is not,” Lefou huffed.

“My point is,” Stanley said, stifling a chuckle, “have you ever considered... having more children?”

Lefou blinked. He hadn’t expected this conversation, especially not on a Thursday afternoon at the kitchen table. “Oh, um...”

“Forget it,” Stanley said, shaking his head.

“No, hold on,” Lefou put his hand on Stanley’s arm to make him look at him again. “I want to talk about it,”

Stanley licked his lips, nervously, “You do?”

“Yeah,” Lefou said, “it’s not that it hasn’t crossed my mind, I just wasn’t sure it was something you would want,”

Stanley didn’t respond to this, but was fidgeting with his hands as Lefou continued,

“I adopted Barney on my own,” Lefou said, “you didn’t have to come into his life, but you did.”

“I love Barney, you know I do,”

“I know, but he was almost seven when we got married. I didn’t know how you felt about babies,”

Stanley hummed in thought, “I’ll admit I don’t have a lot of experience with them but... I’m willing to learn,”

“Is this something you really want?”

Stanley shrugged, but Lefou could tell by the look in his eye that he liked the idea more than he was willing to show. “It’s not something we have to do, of course. I’m perfectly content with you and Barney... which is another thing to consider. Barney has been an only child for so long, how would he take a younger brother or sister?”

Lefou nodded, understanding his concerns. “I was seven when my sister was born,”

“Did you take it okay?”

“I think so,” Lefou said, scratching the back of his head. “I remember being a little jealous but... we get along fine now,”

“So you’re... open to the idea?” Stanley asked, hopefully.

Lefou reached over and squeezed his hand. “Of course I am! I love babies... maybe we should talk to Barney about it, though?”

Stanley nodded, squeezing his hand in return.

The more Lefou thought about their conversation, the more he liked the idea of another baby. He and Stanley had been married going on three years, now, and it wasn’t like they were getting any younger. He remembered the little clothes he had for Barney, the hats and shoes that seemed impossibly tiny. He remembered feeding him a bottle and rocking him to sleep. He remembered taking a ridiculous amount of pictures the day he brought him home. While he still liked to sit on the couch with Barney cuddled into his side, and still took a lot of photos, Lefou did miss having a baby around.

Barney was in his pajamas, and stifling a yawn behind his hand. It was close to his usual bedtime, despite his protests. Lefou usually sent him to bed with a book, and would later find him asleep, the book tented across his nose, his hand draped over the edge of the bed. Lefou wanted to catch him before that happened tonight, though.

“Why don’t you go into your room, Barney, I’ll be in in a minute, I want to talk to you,”

“Am I in trouble?” Barney asked, knitting his auburn eyebrows together.

“Not at all,” Lefou assured him, “Daddy and I just want to ask you something,”

Barney nodded, suspiciously, but sleepily wandered into his room.

Lefou stuck his head into his own bedroom, to find Stanley lounged on the bed, typing something into his phone. “I want to talk to Barney, are you coming?”

Stanley nodded, locked his phone, and followed Lefou into Barney’s room.

They found Barney laying on his stomach, the reading light near his bed illuminating a magazine.

Lefou sat on the edge of the bed, pulling one leg underneath himself. Stanley settled in the folding chair by Barney’s desk.

“What did’ja want to talk about?” Barney asked without pretense, as he tossed the magazine onto the floor, causing Lefou to roll his eyes.

“I... we, wanted to ask you about...” Lefou coughed. No wonder Stanley was so uncomfortable earlier. He didn’t know how to approach the subject, either.

“Babies,” Stanley blurted out.

“Babies?” Barney echoed, looking from Stanley, to Lefou, and back again. “What about ‘em?”

“Do you like babies?” Lefou asked, the ice beginning to melt, but not quite broken.

“I guess so...” Barney said, confusedly.

Lefou sucked in a long breath of air before asking, “Have you ever wanted a brother or sister?”

To his surprise, Barney’s face broke into a wide smile. “Of course I have!”

“You have?” Stanley asked, his eyebrows shooting to his hairline. “You’ve never mentioned that before,”

Barney shrugged. “All my friends have brothers and sisters,”

Lefou nodded, slowly. “Nothing is decided yet, officially, but Daddy and I were thinking about maybe bringing another baby home,”

“Another baby?”

“Well, besides you,” Lefou explained.

“Papa, I’m not a baby,” Barney said, rolling his eyes.

“You’re my baby,” Lefou said, cracking a cheesy smile, “I’ve known you since you were this big,” Lefou held his hands apart, about the distance of a loaf of bread.

“Would your new baby be that tiny?” Barney asked.

“Probably,” Stanley said, moving from the chair to perch on the opposite side of the bed. “Babies are pretty small,”

“Whoa,” Barney said, breathlessly.

They continued to talk about babies and being an older brother for awhile, before Barney fell asleep with his head in Lefou’s lap. Lefou gently moved him into a proper sleeping position, nestling him in the fluffy blankets. Lefou and Stanley kissed their son’s forehead before quietly exiting the room, shutting the door behind them.

“Well,” Stanley said as they retreated back to their room. It was getting late. “that went smoother than expected,”

“I had no idea he wanted a brother or sister,” Lefou agreed. Barney was usually an open book. It made him wonder if there were other things Barney wanted that he didn’t talk about.

“I guess now it’s official,” Stanley said, pulling off his shirt to change into his pajamas, “we have to have a baby now. Bartholomew’s orders,”

“Well, who am I to argue with that?”

In the next few days, Lefou began researching adoption. Barney had been a private adoption, his mother the daughter of a friend. He wasn’t sure what it would take to bring another baby home. There was an overwhelming amount of things to consider, it would appear. What their living situation was, what their current finances were, meeting someone who would be willing to trust himself and Stanley with their baby.

It was scary... but exciting, he decided. Lefou and Stanley had both taken a long weekend off from work so they could spend time going over the necessary reading while Barney was at school.

“Wow,” Stanley said, when Lefou brought up a few websites, and even a few books he had borrowed from the local library.

“I know,”

“I guess I didn’t realize it was such a... such a long process,” Stanley chuckled, nervously rubbing the back of his head.

“Barney was a pretty simple process, all things considered,” Lefou said, “although the situations were different,”

“Do you think we can do it?” Stanley asked, doubt clouding over his eyes.

“Of course we can do it,” Lefou said, “we both have good paying jobs, so the money isn’t a problem, we have stable living conditions, food on the table. It just might take some time,” Lefou corrected himself, “it will take some time,”

“It’ll be worth it though, right?”

Lefou smiled. “I can assure you, it will,”

“Well then,” Stanley heaved a heavy book onto his lap and began scanning through the pages, “let’s see what it takes to get us a baby,”

Lefou began to search a few websites, while Stanley flipped through books, both of them jotting down notes as they read. It was going to be a long process, but Lefou knew everything would settle into place... eventually.

It was a Friday afternoon, a few months later, when Lefou walked through the front door. Stanley usually got home earlier than he did, and today was no different. Lefou could smell something cooking from the kitchen, and could hear one of Barney’s TV shows blaring from the living room. Finally home, he thought as he hung his jacket on the coat rack.

“Hey, love,” Stanley greeted. Usually Lefou was the one to cook dinner, but every once in awhile, he would come home to find his husband standing in front of the stove, stirring a pot or pulling something from the oven.

“Smells good,” Lefou commented, pulling on the side of the apron Stanley was wearing, “but why are you wearing this?”

“... I like this shirt,” was all Stanley said, and Lefou understood. Stanley tended to be something of a mess in the kitchen, it often taking close to an hour to clean up after they finished eating.

“It’s nearly ready,” Stanley said, snorting when Lefou’s stomach made a loud grumbling noise.

“What? I hardly ate any lunch,” Lefou pouted.

“Good thing I made your favorite, then,” Stanley said, kissing the end of Lefou’s nose, “why don’t you tell Barney it’s done?”

They were halfway through their meal, Barney picking at his vegetables, Lefou buttering his third roll, while Stanley told some story about what happened at work that day.

Stanley opened his mouth after a dramatic pause (Lefou was always amazed with his ability to turn a conversation he had with an unpleasant client into such a tale), but before he could speak, the phone rang.

“I’ll get it!” Barney cheered, apparently excited at the prospect of abandoning his peas.

“Nope,” Stanley said simply, already out of his seat, “I really shouldn’t be answering it during dinner, either,” he added, as Barney slumped back in his chair, crossing his arms with a loud huff.

Lefou took a leisurely bite as he heard Stanley’s voice drifting in from the other room. “Just eat a little more, please. I bought ice cream for dessert,” he said to his son, who was stabbing harshly at his plate.

Barney perked up at the thought of ice cream, and continued eating.

Stanley poked his head into the room, his hand over the mouthpiece of the phone. “Um, Lefou, can you come in here, please?” His eyes darted to Barney, and back to Lefou.

Lefou blinked. Who was it on the phone? His grandmother had taken a spill recently, was she okay? Before he could work himself into a fit, he followed Stanley into the living room.

“Is everything okay?” Lefou mouthed, as Stanley removed his hand from the phone.

“It’s perfect,” Stanley mouthed back, a happy glimmer in his eye. “alright, I’m back,” he said into the phone, “I have my husband with me,”

Lefou leaned in to hear the person on the other end. A woman’s voice he didn’t recognize.

“Congratulations, you two! You’re going to be parents!”

#there's probably typos in this #yes the title is a dumbo reference #disney #beauty and the beast #stafou fan fiction #stafou #stanfou #lefou #stanley #random ramblings #weatherby writes

27 notes · View notes