An Archive of Our Own, a project of the Organization for Transformative Works
Fic rec! Batman, 22K
Summary: Stalking Batman is hard as a starving orphan in Crime Alley. Tim would know; that’s his life. Luckily, Tim is excellent at his self-appointed calling, and once he cracks Batman’s secret identity, he discovers an empty mansion next door to the Wayne estate. Some would consider squatting uncouth; Tim calls it free real estate. Anyway, the Drakes won't mind. They'd have to be in the country for that. Besides, a little identity theft never hurt anybody.
Comments: Oh, this is gold. Tim is a feral Crime Alley child who will go to extreme lengths to get what he wants - affection and hugs. He’s pure chaos and makes the worst/funniest decisions at every corner and I both want to wrap him in a blanket and pet his hair and want to record everything he does, hiding my snickers behind my hand. And the best part is that there’s a sequel, and a sequel after than! Tim and Jason bond over Crime Alley superstitions. 🔮
Summons to breakfast with his family had never meant anything good in Roman’s household. At least, they never meant anything good for Roman himself, he was fairly certain his parents saw things differently.
Usually, his parents used the breakfasts as a way to tell him the most recent ‘good’ news - news that Roman almost never agreed was good. Occasionally it was things he could deal with, most of the time it was things that would make his life just that much more difficult, like their decision to get rid of his old handmaiden, who had supposedly gotten too old for her job. They’d told him that they now expected him to get up, wash and dress on his own from that point forward. It wasn’t like he’d been helped all his life with those things or anything, just because they didn’t want to expend money on someone new, it had taken him a painful while to adjust.
So no, this breakfast summons, a week before the anniversary of his brother’s passing no less, was not a good thing by any possible stretch of the word.
“Ah, there you are, Roman,” the Queen said, voice prim and proper as she snapped her fingers at his seat, wordlessly commanding that he sit down. Roman did so as promptly as he could without being improper - a skill well learned over the years, “Your father and I have something we must discuss with you.”
Roman’s father sat opposite him, neither the king nor the queen had touched the breakfast buffet elegantly laid out between the three of them. Roman knew well enough that he couldn’t eat until they did, no matter how hungry he was. His father looked rather unimpressed with the situation.
“What is the news?” Roman asked, probably a little later than he should have. He hadn’t realised they were waiting for him to ask before telling him what the weekly burden on his life would be.
His father cleared his throat, “Well, considering you no longer have a maid and have clearly been struggling with adjustments, alongside our wish to keep you safe-”
Yeah, right, Roman thought and didn’t say. He knew his parents didn’t care about his wellbeing, just that he was alive, well behaved and expressed the correct opinions when asked.
“-the Queen and I have come to the decision that it is in all of our best interests that you are assigned a personal guard post haste,” The king finished.
Roman felt his heart drop to his stomach.
“Indeed,” the Queen continued, finally reaching for a pastry, her movements dainty and careful. “We do not want you to be in danger, nor do we want you able to cause trouble. We believe a personal guard is the best solution. What do you think, Roman?”
Awful, Roman thought, but once again didn’t say. This is awful, horrible, the worst thing you’ve done yet. “It’s a great idea, mother,” He said instead, “I would be very grateful for protection - do you already have someone picked out?”
“No need to get so ahead of yourself,” The Queen said, pausing to take a dainty bite of her food, “Eat first, we will discuss the specifics afterwards.”
“Yes, mother,” Roman said, barely suppressing a sigh with years of practice.
There was a reason Roman’s parents always announced these things at breakfast, at least in Roman’s mind, and that was because the lovely food the chefs had prepared for them now simply tasted like sawdust in Roman’s mouth. The dread at the prospect of being followed and watched and reported on every minute of every day was pooling in his stomach and made it hard to eat anything. He was forced to, though, his parents wouldn’t let him leave until he’d finished his share.
Announcements like these would typically sour the rest of the day for Roman too, no matter what he was doing. They especially liked to give these announcements on Roman’s very few free days - because then he couldn’t even train through the frustration. Now his plans to sit and draw in the gardens were ruined. Roman couldn’t draw when he was worked up like this.
“Throughout the week,” The Queen explained after they had all finished eating - a timeframe that felt like an eternity for Roman - “Potential guards we have picked out of our most recent lineup of new recruits will be presenting themselves to you, you will pick one of them.”
Roman would take such a small hint of relief. Even if all of these potential guards were hand picked by his parents, Roman would at least get to choose between them. Hopefully he would be able to work out which of them would be the least unpleasant to be around.
“They will guard you at all times,” The Queen continued, “Aside from during your training and lessons, and they will report back to us just as your teachers do, to ensure your safety and integrity remain intact.”
Roman almost let his emotions show on his face, though he was quick to make sure he remained stoic and composed. All the time? Did that mean they’d be ‘watching over him’ whilst he slept, too? Would he not get even a single moment of peace? Surely that would mean… his parents would certainly find out about things he didn’t want them knowing if that was the case.
Roman was doomed.
—
“I just don’t know what to do, Thomas,” Roman cried as he paced the small study back and forth. His advisor - a man named Thomas, who was surprisingly kind for someone appointed by Roman’s parents - “How am I supposed to choose a guard? Do I get to read their application letters? How will I know who I am supposed to pick?”
Roman couldn’t truly vent about his problems, not to Thomas or any of the staff. It seemed whenever he tried it would always get back to his parents somehow and the staff member would be punished or fired. This - venting about the trivial part of the issue - was really all he could do. It only helped a little, but at least it helped.
“I suppose I could request your parents allow you to read the candidate’s letters?” Thomas offered, “But really, sire, I wouldn’t panic so much, you’ll get to meet each of them in person through the week. Just see who you feel to be a good fit. You’re a good judge of character, Your Highness, I think you can do it.”
It may not be the thing that was really causing his turmoil, but Thomas’ reassuring words did help at least a little. Roman breathed a sigh of relief, “If you can, that would be wonderful… but don’t press them for it if not, I wouldn’t want you getting into trouble.”
“Of course, Your Highness,” Thomas said, bowing his head as he took a note, “The first candidate will be here tomorrow at nine, make sure you are ready for them.”
Taking a deep breath, Roman nodded. At least he wouldn’t have to worry about waking up on time, since he was more than certain he wouldn’t be able to get any decent sleep tonight regardless.
—-
It had been four days, Roman had seen twelve people come through the throne room and not one of them had stood out to him as someone Roman would be willing to have hanging around him all the time. Three of them had actively scared him, though he supposed being large, muscular and menacing was something a guard should be. They just hadn’t sat well with Roman. Five of them had looked downright mean. The looks on their faces angry or condescending, Roman thought he wouldn’t be able to stay sane and put together if he ended up with one of them. The others had simply felt off in a way Roman couldn’t hope to describe.
And then, on the second last day Roman had to choose, there was him. ‘Pretty’ had been his first thought, which he had quickly brushed off. He couldn’t be thinking like that.
The guard was, of course, dressed like the others had been, though this one wore a cloak with a bird pin attached over his armour. He wasn’t obviously muscular, though he was tall and held himself in such a way that made Roman sure he would deal with any threat swiftly and effortlessly. Shaggy black hair almost hid the way his stormy grey eyes darted around the room to land on him, lounging in his throne. He attempted to exude the energy his parents liked him to have - an energy that made it seem like he had no cares in the world. He wanted this guy to think Roman didn’t care that he was here in the slightest.
“Which one is this?” Roman barked to Thomas, who sat a little ways away from him, a scroll on the side. He noticed the guard frown out of the corner of his eye.
“One of the Aynesworth’s old Guard, Sire,” Thomas replied, quickly flipping through his scroll. Roman hummed with a nod, turning to look back at the guard, who had since kneeled on the plush carpet.
“Rise,” Roman commanded, the guard did so with a slight shake - Roman wondered if he was nervous, he could understand why - but most of the other guards had either been uncaring or looked down on him, this difference was interesting to him, “Will you introduce yourself or shall we continue to stare at each other?”
“Wynter,” The guard said quickly - “Um, Virgil, Virgil Wynter, Your Highness.”
Very nervous, it seemed. Roman thought that might be a good thing, though. At least it was different. Roman couldn’t help but notice more about him as minutes went on - he was thin, too thin, like he hadn’t had enough to eat. The way his eyes darted around seemed to be something he did with nerves, always checking his surroundings. Roman supposed that vigilance was a good quality in a guard, though this man didn’t hold himself like any guard he’d ever met.
“This one,” Roman said, looking back over to Thomas, who looked surprised at the outburst. Roman was a little surprised too, but something drew him to this stranger.
“Are you sure, sire?” Thomas asked, Roman frowned - if he wasn’t sure he wouldn’t have said that, “Don’t you want to meet the others?”
“No,” Roman said, tone a little too sharp, a little too petulant. Roman hated the way he himself was acting. “He’s the one I want.”
Sighing, Thomas noted something down on his scroll and looked back towards the guard, who was now just standing there in the middle of the room - Roman couldn’t help but think he looked incredibly out of place, “In that case,” Thomas grabbed his attention back, “I shall let the Queen and King know immediately - and have letters delivered to the other potential guards post haste -” He stood up, making his way over to Wynter. Roman watched as Thomas whispered something to the guard before heading to a side door tucked away in the back of the throne room.
Now that they were alone - aside from the guards posted on the throne room doors, of course - Roman’s eyes found this new guard again. Once again he looked him over, trying to figure out what was so off about him. There was just something that didn’t quite fit into the mould his parents had set out. All of the other guards he’d been presented with were at least somewhat similar. Wynter wasn’t. Roman wondered if there was something else about him that had made his parents pick him out. It was in his favour, certainly, but it still didn’t make sense.
Now that he was done with choosing a guard, Roman wasn’t really sure what he was supposed to do now. As far as he was aware it meant that he would be free until the end of the week - he wasn’t foolish enough to think that his parents wouldn’t just schedule more training instead.
“Your highness,” Said a small page boy, who had appeared by his throne without Roman’s notice and was now offering him a piece of parchment with a note on it. He took it, and the page bowed and scurried off as Roman read it. He sighed.
“Wynter,” Roman called in the most commanding tone he could manage as he stood up and walked over, “The Queen approves of you and requires we spend the afternoon in each other's - company…”
Company? Roman re-read the note with a frown, that made no sense at all - why would his mother want them to spend time together? Last time he’d gotten to know a member of staff she’d been taken away.
“Yes, Your Highness,” Wynter said with a polite bow of his head. It took a few seconds for Roman to realise why the Queen wanted them to talk - she had hired this guard to spy on him, after all, and she was more likely to find things out if Roman trusted Wynter enough to tell him things. Roman almost groaned aloud. This was going to be painful.
Eventually, after much deliberation, Roman decided that he needed to do as she said. He wouldn’t get away with not talking to Wynter, after all, Wynter would tell her he hadn’t. “So-” he started, not quite anticipating how awkward that would sound, “Would you like to see the gardens? They’re lovely this time of year," he asked. Wynter looked a little surprised, but made an aborted move to shrug before stopping himself.
“I cannot control where you go, Your Highness,” He said, ducking his head so that Roman couldn’t look into his eyes. Roman frowned.
“I am asking your opinion, Wynter,” Roman said back, a little bit more harsh than he would’ve liked - he hated acting like his parents. He was really hoping he would be able to get Wynter somewhere he could talk to him a little more genuinely - if not entirely. Wynter gasped - barely a sharp intake of breath, but Roman noticed - he shifted awkwardly and Roman couldn’t fathom what was so wrong.
“Um…” He said, looking away, Roman simply waited for an answer and wondered why he was so nervous. “Yes, your highness, the uh- the gardens sound like a great idea.” He says it like he’s forcing the words through his teeth.
Well, Roman thought, he best not dwell on it. He already knew having a guard was going to be awful, so it didn’t matter. He only nodded before clapping his hands twice - a signal for the guards on the door to open it for them - before silently leading the way through the castle back outside. The entire way Roman was aware of Wynter watching him, following behind like a shadow and making Roman feel uneasy and all kinds of bad as they went.
Outside, Roman began to give Wynter a tour. The gardens were one of his favourite places in the castle - and they looked especially lovely in early autumn - so he spent a lot of time there. If they were supposed to make conversation, Roman thought it would be fairly safe to simply talk about the gardens. All the while he kept an eye on Wynter and maintained his facade of indifference and poise even though he was incredibly excited to talk about all of the interesting kinds of flowers and plants they had here. This place was practically one of his only windows to the outside world, of course he loved it, but he couldn’t just say that.
About halfway through his attempt at a nonchalant and uncaring tour of the garden, he started noticing Wynter frowning and almost glaring at the plants when he wasn’t looking. Turning, Roman raised an eyebrow, he wondered what had Virgil disliking the garden so obviously.
“Do you not like them?” Roman asked, making a gesture to the flowers around them, Wynter went to say something, but Roman could already see the lie forming on his tongue, so he held up a finger to interrupt, Wynter jumped, “Be honest.”
“The gardens are… objectively, beautiful, sire,” Wynter said slowly after a long, tense moment. Roman narrowed his eyes, but Wynter continued, “But… despite its beauty, I can’t help but think there could have been a better use for all the money spent here.”
Roman had to lean closer to hear the end of his sentence with how quietly he’d whispered it. Wynter glanced around, eyes darting around as if he was expecting other guards to jump out of the bushes and drag him off. Frowning, Roman watched his new guard - with his lowered head and slightly vacant expression - and tried to work out what on earth was going on.
“What… whatever do you mean?” Roman asked, tilting his head a little. The gardens had been expensive, yes, though he didn’t know exactly how much had been spent on them, he just wasn’t sure why Wynter was complaining about it. He realised abruptly that he must’ve said the wrong thing, though, when Wynter whipped around, pure rage on his face for just a second long enough to make Roman flinch away before he seemed to immediately calm down completely. It was almost as impressive as Roman’s own mask. He couldn’t fathom why he was so upset.
Taking a few deep breaths to calm himself down, Wynter spoke again, “Well, I- suppose, maybe the money may have been better spent improving… um… quality of life, for the townsfolk?”
“Why would they need that?” Roman asked with far too little thought put into his words first, even he knew it this time as he said it, and oh look, there was that raging anger again, “Aren’t they all already happy? I thought-”
He trailed off, letting the both of them fall into silence since Wynter didn’t seem to want to respond to him. Eventually, Roman gave him a look - wanting an answer - and he sighed, “No, they’re not happy,” He said, clasping his hands together in front of him, Roman felt like he’d been slapped. “Many people in the kingdom are suffering.”
Instinctually, Roman thought Wynter must be lying, trying to get to him, why would his parents - much less Thomas and the rest of the staff - lie to him about the state of the denizens of their kingdom? Everyone in the castle said the kingdom was doing well, why should he trust this guard who he’d just met twenty minutes ago? “Surely you lie,” Roman said, turning up his nose, “That cannot be true.”
There was a long silence then, and after a while of staring at each other with no real effect on either part, Roman gave up and turned away, resuming his walk around the garden. This time, however, he neglected to continue his tour, he didn’t feel much like talking now, and Wynter seemed to share that sentiment. They didn’t talk again the entire afternoon
After they’d left the garden, Roman resumed his more princely persona entirely. He’d let his guard slip just a little out in the garden, now his walls were right back up. He decided he wouldn’t interact with Wynter unless he really needed to - and that was really just to snap orders at him. If Wynter was going to be rude and lie to him, Roman saw no reason that he should be nice in return. He was also… well, still terrified that anything he did would get back to his parents now.
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Masterpost | Next -
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Tags: @full-of-roman-angst-trash @your-local-random-dino @cutebisexualmess @glacierruler @roseianxiety @bella-bugatti-frogetti-baguetti @scalesfeathersnfur @oatmeal-stans-the-trash-rat @littlerat2 ( if anyone wants to be added, let me know!)
I'm only tagging you guys in this post so as not to spam, but all chapters of this fic will be uploaded to tumblr by the end of today.
I feel like because I have been exclusively into like spn fics recently I had started to forget the actual show. And thats so embarassing because most of the time I don’t finish fics that are ooc, because yk personal preference and stuff. But I recently just was like “eh” and started reading them. And I was recently rewatching an episode with my friend and was like WTF WHY ARE THE FICS LIKE THAT?! And so now I’m on a T-break fr fr.
The sun-baked sand stuck to every part of him still wet from his swim. The waves lapped half-heartedly at his tail, the gulls wheeled and cried overhead. Signaling to each other the lazy Jiaoren on the beach wasn't quite dead yet.
Jokes on them, he wasn't going to die any time soon.
Although he might if Lan Zhan took much longer in Caiyi Town forcing him to be without kisses.
He knew visits with Lan Qiren were important, what with his failing health and no medicine working it was important to put his affairs in order for Lan Zhan and Lan Huan.
Did it have to be every Wednesday?
Wednesday was Lan Zhan's slow day. The day they got the chance to swim together. To dry on the sun-warmed rocks before Lan Zhan would head inside, and start breakfast gloriously naked. Wei Ying would tempt him back into bed, breakfast would burn, they would order out and Wei Ying would work on the deck, the boat dock, and the greenhouse before heading inside to start dinner.
Lan Zhan would emerge from his office, pressing heated kisses up Wei Ying's sweaty neck, whispering instructions while he pretend to get upset that Lan Zhan didn't trust him to cook.
All of that had been ruined!
Wei Ying groaned, rolling back and forth on the shore. Succeeding only in getting sand everywhere and startling the gulls too dumb to realize he was still alive.
He threw his arm over his eyes, blocking out the sun, ignoring his stomach rumbling in protest from lack of food.
He didn't want food his husband hadn't cooked!
He was being bratty and he knew it. If Lan Zhan were here, he would mockingly scold Wei Ying for being 'ridiculous' or somesuch.
He couldn't help it. It wasn't his fault Lan Zhan was so perfect. If Lan Zhan didn't want a whiny brat for a husband, he shouldn't have been so perfect, he had no one but himself to blame.
The stairs over the beach creaked.
Wei Ying smiled, going still, pretending to be asleep.
There was a pause, a voice. Not Lan Zhan's. Lighter, less refined.
Had Lan Zhan brought someone home?
No, he would have warned Wei Ying first.
Footsteps shifted the sand, approaching him.
"Ah, bird!"
That…was a child's voice.
"Yes. A common seagull. They live on the cliffs and the top of the house." Lan Zhan replied.
Wei Ying snapped his eyes open, spinning around, he tucked his tail under him and pushed up.
Wei Ying loved his husband. There wasn't a single moment of a single day he could imagine not loving everything about Lan Zhan. Everytime Wei Ying discovered something new about Lan Zhan it felt like he was turning a crystal in his hand and discovering a new cut, or edge that gave off a different light.
Here he was in the morning holding a child and Wei Ying had never been more in love with him.
His face was soft, he didn't have any of that tension he typically had from a day if dealing with Lan Qiren's lawyers or insurance agency. His shoulders were relaxed, every line of his body ooze comfort and relaxation.
He reached up brushing crumbs away from the little boys mouth as he pointed to more gulls in the sky. Complaining because the Jiaoren really was alive.
"Uh Lan…Zhan?"
Lan Zhan smiled, bending down, he kissed Wei Ying's forehead, handing the boy to him.
"Do not get him dirty." His eyes raked Wei Ying's sand covered chest and tail, "I brought us breakfast."
Wei Ying held the boy. He was light. Too light. Every child should be fat and have laugh lines by the time they're ten.
He stared at Wei Ying with big, doughy brown eyes. His feather light hair was as dark as his or Lan Zhan's.
He stared at Wei Ying like he was about to yell. Large eyes already looking down.
Oh that won't do at at all!
"Don't get dirty baba says." Wei Ying tweaked his nose, earning a shy giggle. "Look at me, already covered in sand. We simply have to make you sandy as well!"
"Wei Ying." Lan Zhan was fighting not to smile, a warning with no heat.
Wei Ying rubbed his nose against the childs, delighting in more laughter, he tossed the boy up, catching him each time.
"Come with me to the wet sand we can get really dirty there."
He was lifted from his arms, Lan Zhan pretend to glare at him, "No. And no more for you." He handed Wei Ying a towel, and a long robe. "Come eat with us."
Wei Ying smiled at his husband taking the towel, he dried off, wrapping the robe around home before finishing the tail and willing the shift back into human.
It took less concentration today then it normally did. Within moments he was brushing sand off his legs, and sitting down beside Lan Zhan, pulling the child into his arms while Lan Zhan opened the take out bags.
"What's his name?"
Lan Zhan handed him a container of congee, plain with mushrooms and onions.
"Yuan."
"A-Yuan." Wei Ying pinched his nose again, blowing on the congee thoroughly before letting A-Yuan eat it. "Yuan-er, Yuanyuan. Cute little potato." He made painless playful bites at A-Yuan's neck and cheeks.
A-Yuan laughed so hard he got tiny, adorable, hiccups.
"Wei Ying. You both must eat." Lan Zhan handed over two take out bowls, smothered in dark red that made his eyes water as he took them.
"Baba takes such good care of us. Doesn't he?" Wei Ying blew on another bite, before taking one of his own. "Are we watching him or something?" He asked Lan Zhan after finishing his bite.
Lan Zhan ate his sour plum, giving the gulls slowly edging closer a frosty glare.
"Mn. Something."
Wei Ying looked up from his next bite.
It wasn't like Lan Zhan to be cagey like this. The last time he danced around Wei Ying's questions was when him and Huan-ge found out the Jiang Sect might have been responsible for his parents deaths.
Wei Ying gathered A-Yuan into his arms, sliding up until every part of him was pressed against Lan Zhan.
He met warm golden eyes, he smiled, kissing his nose, "Tell me."
Lan Zhan held out for three heartbeats. His face drained of the tension, easing into a soft smile only Wei Ying could see.
"His surname is Wen."
Wei Ying jolted to his knees, blinking rapidly, as if Qing-jie and Wen Ning would materialize out of the sand.
Lan Zhan put a hand on his shoulder, easing him back down to the sheet.
"Xiongzhang has, he and da-ge are working to bring them here safely. And clear their names."
Four years ago, wen Lan Zhan looked at him during a meteor shower and asked Wei Ying to marry him, he firmly believed nothing would be as good as that.
And he was right.
This was a different kind of happiness. He felt like he could fly. The worry and the fear tangled in his chest was coming undone, he could breathe again.
He buried his head in Lan Zhan's chest, sighing.
He was going to have his family again.
Wen Yuan made grumpy noises, reaching for his congee, Wei Ying laughed, pulling back.
"Sorry baobei, diedie's not being very good."
A hand held his chin, a thumb rough with callouses brushed his tears away.
"Wei Ying is always good." Lan Zhan held him as he kissed him.
"Bird is stealing!" A-Yuan shouted, startling the gull stealing a strip of yuatio.
Wei Ying tossed the spoon in his hand, the gull let out an indignant squawk, flying away with it's stolen food.
Wei Ying huffed, "It ruined such a good kiss too!"
Lan Zhan pulled him down beside him, kissing his wet sandy hair.
hagrid: STOP RUNNIN O'ER THE HOGSMEADE FARMS WITH THOSE TROLLEYS
james: so those are your farms?
hargid: NO THE OWNER SAW KIDS IN HOGWARTS CLOTHES
peter: SO YOU KNOW THE GUY CHASING US?
hagrid: CHASIN YER? WHOSE CHASIN YER?
felter: I AM!
james: STOP CHASING US
via this marauders social media au i wrote
i promise this scene is funnier in the book
Just imagine having powers in the John Wick verse and hang with me for a minute
I’d imagine having a sort of low key life
if you are insanely power you wouldn’t really act on it
Magic only enhances what’s already there, so if you really wanted to keep your magic life from your personal life you could
I’d imagine you conducting your home life like Cassie Nightgale (The Good Witch) or Matilda
You help out those in need in a more subtle way and use magic for more minor inconveniences if you truly didn’t want to get up
No occult shop or palm readings or something like that
it’s too on the nose and too easy for someone with magic to target you
I could see a Bell Book & Candle in your life or maybe a librarian or a teacher, a needed and humble job
Hell you could be an entrepreneur, work in a mechanic shop, a connivence store
John wouldn’t care where you worked as long you enjoy it as it’s not too flashy or draw unnecessary attention to him
If your job was flashy he’d ask your relationship to be private he’s a loner
John has a lot of drama in his life and he doesn’t need more
If you have drama I’d think you’d be able to handle it without alerting your mortal neighbors
Your relationship and how you use your powers would depend on how you meet John
Before the events of the first John Wick:
You’re a well respected and needed friend to John and to his wife
You were moving into the neighborhood and happened to catch Helen’s eye so of course she dragged John over and boom acquaintances
He wouldn’t mind you as a friend but is definitely cautious
What normal person knows who’s walking into a room without moving or breaking concentrations from your current task?
It even happens with strangers you’ve never met
John a closed off person, the only one we made him open up and understands him is Helen
So imagine how offput he would be of you knew how everyone including how he is feeling
For a while he might think you’re a assassin or mercenary and keep his guard up around you
I mean you could be who knows
After awhile he gets used to it like everyone else
He brushes off as part of your charm but you both know it’s something more
Your relationship with John is purely platonic
He has Helen and you’re not looking to break up anyone’s relationship
If you do have crush on him impossible not to it doesn’t show and he wouldn’t notice if it did
Helen’s the only girl in the world to him, he could never cheat on not even in his mind
As we begin to reach the beginning of the first movie you’re relationship would grow when Helen gets sick, still platonic but you’re closer than ever
Wether you have a shop or not you’re know for your natural remedies and amazing advice
John would appreciate you helping anyway you can and for not discouraging Helen from getting medical attention
Most of your stuff is to make her time left as stress free and painless as possible
And that’s all John can ask for at this point
Part of making Helen’s life stress free would consist of making sure John is okay after she’s gone
Which would break you because she’s a dear friend and you don’t want her to die and you know her death would break John
It was your idea to get John a puppy, you knew Daisy would help him heal
It’s times like this when you wish that magic was just like the movies and take away all the bad things in the world
But it can’t
so you’re there for them, every step of the way
When Helen dies you say your goodbyes and wait for him to come of out her room
You bring her groceries and help clean up
You make sure he’s taking care of himself
You use your magic to help out and make sure nothing extra shitty happens
His wife died give him a break world
He’s not snappy and he doesn’t cry because you’re not babying him and he has no more tears to shed
He is getting increasingly more suspicious of you but is unaware it’s magic
This is where feelings are starting to surface but no one acts on it
It might just be because you’re both hurting and her death is too fresh it would be a betrayal
After the funeral and he receives Daisy he slowly gets better
He knows you had something to do with his new pet and he’s not complaining
You still help out whenever you can and he asks for you stay a little longer each time
Nothing happens but even with Daisy it’s hard to be alone
Soon you realize he’s there for you too in his own way
The relationship is still platonic but something is there
Just underneath the surface of two grieving friends something more is growing in the midst of tragedy
To sum it up your relationship with John before the movie is a slow burn
I couldn’t resist adding magic in the John Wick verse but it’s really low key and peaceful. If you guys like it I’ll make a part 2. After all this the beginning and there’s 3 movies. If there’s a part 2 it will be a lot more interesting I promise. Let know what you guys think in the comments and give me ideas please I’m suffering from writers block!!
My first prompt fic. This was requsted by @ Dayanna_Cahill_Fray_Chase and @my-fan-side. Nesta discovers a home video which she watches with her sister basically.
The edits are basically a story board so plz check that out I wasn’t going to post these but my cousin made me <3 Love ya cuz.
If you have anymore prompts feel free to send them to me <3
Cassian woke up trying to reach for Nesta but instead finding a cold side of bed. He had gone to the rooftop pool with Nesta and safe to say they had a…rough night. He pushed himself up and leaned against the headboard, the bathroom door was open giving him a full view of his fiancé’s back in that pretty white bathing suit. She was putting on mascara, her clothes on the heating rack in the bathroom.
“Where are you going?”
“Starbucks then my old house. It’s about time I cleared that place up.”
He grimaced, the old house as in the villa she grew up in that have reminders of her dead parents.
He started getting up only to have Nesta push him down, “You didn’t get much sleep last night,” She started fixing her bandanna in the mirror, “Stay. I’ll see you later.”
He rolled his eyes, “You didn’t get much sleep either.”
“That’s why I’m going to Starbucks,” She winked and trotted down the stairs leaving.
Well then he could also get Starbucks.
------
She was waiting in the line, scrolling through Instagram not bothering to look behind her. As she got to the front she smiled at the barista,
“Hey could I have-” a hand came around her waist.
“Caramel macchiato, Venti with extra whip, please.”
The barista smiled, “And for you sir?”
Cassian smiled, “me? Well-“
“He wants a Venti iced hazelnut macchiato, no whip and light ice.”
“Names?”
Cassian pinched her waist, “Nessie and Cassian.”
Nesta threw him a harsh look.
They moved along to the end.
“What are you doing here?”
“Helping you clear up your parent’s villa.”
She rolled her eyes.
“You know sweetheart you chug down coffee like its water I don’t think it’s healthy.”
“Shut up Cassian.”
The baristo handed their drinks to them giving Nesta a flirtatious smile which Nesta returned only to piss Cassian off.
Cassian growled.
She pulled him out of the coffeehouse before he could make a scene.
“Did you bring your car?” she asked him, because she hadn’t, she was planning on taking an uber.
He grunted a response she assumed was a yes.
As they got to his car, he opened the car door for her but didn’t look at her. She rolled her eyes.
She got in his black Bentley, as he got in next to her she pressed a kiss to his cheek, “Baby.”
No answer, “Baby!”
“Yes?” He turned, his lips so close to hers.
“I love you.” She pressed her lips to his, it always worked.
As she sat back, his hand went on her thigh.
“Are you sure you should be going there wearing that, babe? I mean as gorgeous as you look, will you be able to move around in it?”
She looked down at her baby blue Bardot tie front and high waist shorts.
“You’d be surprised sweetie.”
As they pulled up to the rustic villa Nesta sighed. Home.
She jogged up to the front door and opened it.
After all the Archeron sisters had moved out with their respective boyfriends and their father…passed the house was left the exact same way. She assumed it was an Archeron thing as after her mother died everything was left the same in her chambers as well.
She sipped her coffee.
“I’ll get started on clearing up the cellar babe, you get started upstairs ok?”
She mindlessly nodded heading upstairs; she had somewhere she needed to go. Something that was begging her attention.
She trotted down the marble hallway into her mother’s second room. The room she didn’t share with her father that she slept more and more in after their marriage was breaking. She went in and gasped. If Nesta didn’t know better she’d think her mother had gone to a party, because the room was immaculate, but still somehow like her mother.
Her mother’s perfume slanted on the table as if she’d just used it, her coat slung over her arm chair, a corner of her duvet folded over.
Her eyes got watery at the jewellery box on her mother’s dressing table.
She opened the box and sighed at the tune playing which she always sung along too and did so now.
“…and when you speak angels sing from above and every word seems to turn into love songs. Give your heart and soul to me and life will always be-”
She broke off at the twin bracelets in the box. She had given it her mother, when she was 13, in the morning for safekeeping because school wouldn’t allow it and forgot to get it back.
White gold chain bracelets with white gold hearts on them. She slid the bracelets on and underneath them, now out in the open from their absence were…pen drives. They had a gold geometric stick.
She giggled at how classy her mother is. Was. Her smile faded.
But what would her mother need to hide in a pen drive in her jewellery box of all places. Footsteps coming upstairs, she slipped the pen drives inside her pocket and closed the jewellery box.
Hands on her waist, lips skimming her neck.
“Clearing up, baby?”
She turned, “I was just about to start.”
“Oh really?” he looked around, “Who’s room was this?”
“My mom’s chambers, her second room.”
“Funny how she left everything for you. You must’ve been her favourite.”
“I was.”
They had countless arguments on this. Him defending Feyre and Elain, her standing her own ground. He was under the impression that Feyre was a villain in her story. She was. And Cassian wouldn’t accept that. He tried to justify Feyre’s actions. Nesta ended up not talking to him for 4 days, because on that topic she never argued for too long, just shut down.
This is why he didn’t push an argument today. She was trying to fix the bond between her sisters. But when the wound is fresh it doesn’t heal as quickly.
She was meeting them tomorrow. Ugh.
At least Cress would be there.
“My heads hurting I wanna go home.” He nodded and led her downstairs. As they got in the car Nesta felt like a hole was burning her pocket.
“Babe you ok?” He asked.
She nodded. Looking back onto the clear expanse of her childhood estate.
“You weren’t wearing those bracelets when we went in. In fact I don’t think I’ve ever seen you wear those.”
She smiled, “I was getting in the car for high school and mum came out to give me my watch and she said, ‘Nesta jewellery isn’t allowed at school’ so I gave these for here to keep safe and forgot to take it back, she’s kept it safe for 11 years.”
He reached over and kissed her cheek. “They look amazing on you.”
-----
She clicked off her phone and tried to pull her brown mini skirt lower.
“Cresseida says she’s still on her flight from Manhattan. She should be here in a couple of hours.” Feyre and Elain both nodded, Elain stood.
“Want coffee?” Feyre nodded.
“Wait, Elain it’s my house I’ll-” Elain waved her off getting out three mugs. Nesta went and sat opposite Feyre.
“No need to make anything I have a stash of frappe’s in the fridge.”
Elain put the cups away and started picking out flavours.
Nesta took a deep breath.
“So I went to our old villa with Cassian yesterday…” Elain stopped her rattling of the bottles, Feyre sat up, “And I found these from mom’s old jewellery box.” She took out the pen drives.
“Cute. Have you seen what’s in them?” Feyre asked.
“No I thought I’d show you guys as well, just in case it’s a list of bad people.”
Feyre chuckled, “You watch Blacklist too much.”
Nesta rolled her eyes and got her projector out.
Elain came passing around the glass bottles she had topped with whipped cream and red straws.
Feyre gave Nesta a look.
“What? I brought this projector and literally haven’t used it since.”
She plugged it in.
A video started playing.
“Momma I can’t reach!”
A woman came into the shot, picking up the little girl in the middle of the orchid.
“It’s ok sweetie! Mama’s here.” She picked out the lemons and handed one.
A male voice from behind the camera said, “Nesta look at the camera darling!”
The woman turned showing her pregnant tummy and pointing the camera out to Nesta.
“Daddy I want to pick a lemon.”
The camera was passed onto to someone else and Randolph Archeron ran to Nesta taking her from his wife and placing her behind his head. Nesta picked a lemon and giggled showing it to her mother who was behind her. Adelaide took the lemon from her and went on her tip toes. Nesta leaning back to kiss her mother on the lips.
The video froze for a few seconds.
“Nesta what is-” Elain asked.
“It’s a home video, from when we were younger.”
Feyre glued her eyes back to the wall.
The video changed.
Nesta, Adelaide and Feyre were picking and posing with oranges. Elain holding the camera.
“Smile!!!!” her voice said.
Nesta dropped an orange.
“OMG Nesta!” Elain shrieked, “You’re ruing my shot!”
Nesta picked up the orange, “Ok geez.”
Feyre had started peeling the orange in her hand causing their mother to burst into laughter at Elain’s shriek.
Again another video slid in, a longer one this time.
“Come on Feyre!” Nesta shouted.
“Cominggg.” The camera started running towards Nesta and Elain.
“We were really cute,” Elain said.
Feyre nodded, “I can’t believe she kept these. Where even are we?”
“In Verona I think.” Nesta said.
They were wearing hats too big for their heads.
Elain stopped.
“Dad can I go with you I’m tired.”
Randolph chuckled from behind the camera and held out his hand.
“You were such a daddy’s girl,” Nesta said to Elain.
Elain swiped cream on Nesta’s cheek.
“Get Cassian to lick that off later.”
“Idiot.”
“Come on Fey,” Adelaide picked up Feyre and took Nesta’s hand.
She took their hats off, and held them.
They made their way through the tomato fields into the house. Nesta took the camera from Feyre and ran into the hall. She set the camera down on a counter and started dancing on her own.
“What are you doing Nes?” Adelaide came and picked Nesta up giving her a piggyback; Nesta giggled and clutched her tight.
“She loved you a lot,” Elain looked at Nesta, who was staring at the screen. She didn’t answer, unable to at the longing in Elain’s voice and in Feyre’s eyes. They had always been their father’s child; Nesta had always belonged to her mother. She had stayed with her mother till the end.
Little Nesta in the video said to her mother, “Where’s Feyre?!”
Her mother chuckled, “I don’t know sweetie.”
“Let’s find out, we shall go on a secret mission,” She took the camera off the counter and shoved in her mother’s hands,
“You hold the camera.”
“Oop, ok wait for me,” They ran through the house hiding next to the door look into the kitchen. Feyre had taken out an easel and had started painting.
“Honestly, she’s already started painting, Help me God,” Adelaide laughed at mini Nesta’s sass.
Nesta burst through the door, “Oh Feyre, whatcha doing?”
Feyre looked up and grabbed Nesta, “Good thing you’re here Nes, I needed someone to paint.”
Nesta flicked a lock of hair over her shoulder, “Of course.”
After a few minutes of Nesta fidgeting, Feyre screamed at her to "Sit still Nesta!!" But Nesta kept on looking over at what Elain was doing in the garden.
Adelaide sat down on the kitchen table, the camera jolting.
The video flicked to the next one.
Adelaide was walking up the stairs.
“We seem to have a messy situation downstairs. Proceeding with caution.” She flipped the camera hiding on the landing to show Randolph and his 3 daughters making cookies, Nesta as the first person to notice squealing,
“Momma!!” She ran into her arms smearing her with flour and icing.
“You smell like cookie dough!!!”
Their cookie making continued, throwing flour at each other.
The clip ended. Another one rolled.
“Welcome to our house tour at night.” Adelaide started.
Adelaide started walking through explaining the pictures on the wall.
“There’s me and the girls. Me and Nesta. Randolph with a very tired Nesta. Aw, look at my baby. Nesta with Oliver. Good god if he wasn’t like a brother to her then I would’ve predicted these two would’ve got married.” She laughed, “Well the guy who does get married to Nesta must be a really lucky man. There’s Feyre with her canvas look at her artist in the making. Elain with her flowers that she grew herself, my little gardener!” She moved along to some other picture her voice growing less fond, “Mine and Randolph’s wedding pictures, our anniversary. Lord knows where he is nowadays.” She went quiet, “Anyway let’s check on the little ones the nanny must have put them to sleep.”
She went into a big room, where Nesta was sleeping. The room was light and airy with fairy lights on the wall and Polaroid pictures.
“There’s my baby,” she caressed a hand down Nesta’s face pressing a kiss to her face. Nesta wriggled.
“Goodnight baby.”
She moved into another room, a pink one this time, “There’s baby Elain with her little elf doll.” Elain lay in a plush pink bed in the middle clutching onto a knitted elf doll. Her mother fixed her covers and pressed a kiss to her head.
The next room was covered in with plush toys, the walls covered with stuck on paintings she did at school and at home.
Feyre was still wearing her apron. Adelaide tutted, placing the camera on the desk and holding up a sleeping mini Feyre getting her out of the apron. She put her back to sleep and pulled the covers over her. Pressing a kiss to her forehead as well.
She looked at the camera.
“Can’t wait till they grow up. Hopefully they won’t turn out like me or Randolph. Oh Lord just let them be happy. Especially Nesta. I overheard her telling her teddy that “Daddy doesn’t love her,” I hope she finds someone who does. Who chooses her and keeps on choosing her every day. And this one-” she stroked Feyre, “she should get out from behind that easel every once in a while, just like how Elain needs someone who will be gentle with her as she is gentle with her flowers. I’ll probably show this video to my grandkids, embarrass their mums.” She laughed at the thought.
A door opened and shut.
“Randolph’s here. Let’s find out where he’s been. So bye future and old me and Nesta, Elain and Feyre. I love all of you.”
The video clicked off.
Nesta was toying with her ring. Tears slipping down her face as she knew it was slipping down Elain and Feyre’s. Her mum would have loved Cassian. Well, maybe not at first but…yes she really would have. She smiled at her sisters. Not being able to say anything.
-------
She had showed Cassian, obviously.
And he’d…well.
He was a fan of their mother.
And then she’d started crying,
“Baby, are you ok?”
“I miss her.”
“well couldn’t we get all those pictures she was talking about in the video and bring it here.”
She hadn’t thought of that, “But the house is in Verona.”
“Book tickets for us tomorrow so we can go the day after.”
She paused for a minute then squealed,
“Baby, baby!! You are the best.” She kissed him deeply.
