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s-horne · 5 years ago

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BASICALLY its about tony showing his love through food sorry that was really long

okay so i had this idea, and im really swamped with work so im passing it over to you: tony associates caring and love with food. when he was really young, he would sit on his mamma's hip, one of her arms around his tiny waist as she stirred with the other, and as he grew older and howard started demanding more of her attention (for this charity or that benefit); the only time tony and his mom spent together was in the kitchen together. 1/2)

years later, tony equates food to love. he cooks for the people he cares about. and then i lost the thread of the idea but it involves steve and tony and peter and tony cooking for steve and teaching peter recipes that he can later teach his kid (2/2)

Please enjoy 3k words of Tony in the kitchen; preparing meals for his husband and their friends, his&Steve’s adoption process, and then Tony’s legacy

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Spaghetti Bolognese

It was an affront to the meal. His Mama would kill him if she knew how he was preparing it.

It was the only meal she’d actually known how to cook and they had a weekly Thursday night dinner date in the kitchen when Howard worked late at the office. She’d carry him round on her hip when he was too small to see what she was preparing on the countertops and, when he’d grown a little taller, sit him in pride of place to sound out every word of the passed-down recipe written in her mother’s cursive handwriting.

Of course, Maria knew exactly what the recipe called for – which was a good job when Tony tripped over some of the measurements or skipped down a couple of lines by accident – but she let him play along until he was old enough to help her cook the actual meal itself.

It was definitely the thought that counted, Tony tried to tell himself as he stared down at the meagre ingredients in front of him. He had to work with what he had and what he had wasn’t much. The only tomatoes he’d had in his cupboards were the tinned kind, so the sauce wouldn’t be as good as his Mama’s when she used the fresh tomatoes from the farmer’s market they had to drive out of town for.

He’d only wanted to make something a little special for Steve. Their anniversary had been interrupted by a battle and they’d gone from a romantic meal at a five-star restaurant to suited up and locked in a fight with an alien invader. Given that they were meant to eat out, their kitchen wasn’t exactly stocked for cooking.

“Need a hand?”

Tony lifted his gaze from the two jars of dried herbs he’d been choosing between. Neither were particularly appealing so he was glad of a distraction. “I thought you were sleeping.”

“Woke up,” Steve said, stifling a yawn behind his hand as he wandered over to Tony. “Obviously.”

“Obviously,” Tony agreed with a roll of his eyes, a fond smile tugging at his lips. He turned back to the dried ingredients in front of him as he waved to the other side of the kitchen, eyes drawn to the way his ring caught the light. “You can chop whichever onion hasn’t gone off over there. I think there’s actually a part of the serum that means you won’t cry whilst you chop it.”

Steve huffed a laugh, trailing his hand over Tony’s hip as he passed him. “Pretty sure that’s not a thing.”

“Well, there’s only one way to find out. Dice it finely, please.”

Vegetable Soup

Vegetable soup was easy. Most soups were easy, really. Tony could make most of them with one hand. Chopping the vegetables was sometimes a little tricky with his arm in a sling, but he could stir the vat of broth easily.

After a battle, it was all that anyone needed. A few loaves of bread in the centre of the table and a mountain of pain relievers handed round with the crockery and they were set.

“Can I help?”

Tony looked up from the pot and over to Peter, hovering in the doorway with his arms wrapped round himself. He looked young, so much younger than he was. “You’re meant to be resting.”

“Couldn’t sleep. The pills hurt my head.”

“But they heal everything else.” Tony beckoned Peter over before he turned back to the stovetop. “How do you feel?”

“Like someone dropped a bus on me.”

“Been there. Grab a tomato and stop chopping.”

Peter did so wordlessly, shooting Tony a soft smile as he slid into a chair by the table. “What else do you want me to do?”

“A few peppers, if you’d like.”

“How thick?”

“Whatever you want.” Tony watched Peter out of the corner of his eye, the way that he winced when he reached for a fresh vegetable in the middle of the table and how he moved gingerly with his eyes narrowed into slits. “How bad is it?”

Peter sighed. He worked on carefully dicing his whole pepper before he spoke again. “Bad. I can’t go home. No one can see these injuries. They’re already questioning me and this will push them over the edge of kicking me out.”

“You’re already home,” Tony said lightly, concentrating on adding a few spices to his soup instead of looking back at Peter. He could feel eyes on the side of his face and fought the urge to turn with everything he had. “After we’ve eaten, I’ll show you the papers.”

The pot bubbled, loud in the otherwise silent room. Tony smiled down at it as he stirred in large circles, scraping the side of the vat where the sauce threatened to burn.

“I’d like that.” Peter sniffed a little and let out a muffled curse. “Well. I’m done with these. Can I help you make the bread?”

Rosemary Focaccia

Tony loved making his own bread. When he was a child, their cook would only let him in the kitchen if he promised to be calm and quiet and she’d quickly realised that one way to keep him like that was to prop him in front of an oven to stare at the bread as it rose.

The smell of yeast and the uncooked dough turned Tony’s stomach as he’d gotten older, but there was nothing better than the scent the bread produced when it started to bake. Fresh rosemary only added to that, or maybe even a few cloves of garlic mixed in with the dough.

Focaccia took a long time to knead and for the rising process to get done perfectly, but spending that long watching over it in the kitchen meant that Peter could sit at the breakfast bar to finish his homework and not be alone.

Peter hated being alone. They’d discovered that pretty quickly after he’d moved into the tower with the rest of the team and had all started going almost out of their way to ensure that Peter didn’t have to suffer by himself. It wasn’t exactly a hardship for Steve to sketch in the communal living room instead of his bedroom, or for Sam and Bucky to train on the mats in the middle of the gym whilst Peter ran laps around the edge to get out of his own head.

And if definitely wasn’t a problem for Tony to dig out the recipe books that had been sent to him after their cook had passed away and flick through them to find an old Italian favourite that would take him a good couple of hours to perfect.

Cookies were a staple in Tony’s recipe book. There were many different varieties, so many tweaks that could be made to each batch to make a different cookie type for any occasion.

“–so that’s why Ned isn’t allowed into the theatre practice room anymore,” Peter said in-between bites of a pecan and chocolate chip cookie. “So we can’t go in to see Madison when she’s in there. We have to meet in the math rooms.”

Tony nodded along as though he’d understood any word Peter had been babbling on about. “Right.” He wasn’t sure what exactly he’d asked to prompt Peter’s longwinded explanation, but he didn’t mind the company.

“Oi, Spider-kid.”

Peter jumped comically at the voice from behind them and Tony shot an arm out to catch him before he fell off the breakfast bar he’d perched himself on. “Jeez, what – oh. Black Widow. Ma’am, I didn’t, I’m sorry, I–”

“Gym,” Natasha said, throwing a thumb over her shoulder to show where she wanted Peter to go. “Spar session. You’re ten minutes late.”

Peter’s eyes went wide and he scrambled for his phone, paling when he realised that he was, in fact, late. Tony couldn’t hide his amusement and snorted loudly, earning himself a dirty look from Peter and an unamused eyebrow raise from Natasha.

“And don’t think you’re getting out of it, either,” Natasha said to him. “Steve is already down there with Thor. They could do with a third. A mediator of sorts.”

“Oh, no.” Tony shot a faux-upset look towards Peter before grinning at Tash, “sorry, but these cookies just aren’t going to bake themselves, now, are they? Pete’s good for the job, though. Practical experience and all that.”

Peter’s glare was about as powerful as a newborn kitten’s, but it tugged at Tony’s heart nonetheless. Giving him a smile, Tony reached for the batch of raspberry cookies he had just pulled from the oven and counted out ten.

“A special treat,” he said, urging Peter off the breakfast bar and herding him in Natasha’s direction. Setting the cookies on a plate at his side, Tony winked at the kid. “For when you’re finished. You’ll need to get your sugar levels back up.”

Rigatoni Pasta Bake

The only difference between Tony’s preferred version of a pasta bake and the classic that Ana had taught him as a child was that his was a bit more adventurous. It served to make things just a little bit more exiting. Everything he did was done with a flair of the dramatics, so it made sense for cooking to follow the same lines.

Making his pasta bake was an excuse to throw everything in his cupboards into the mixture. A hundred different varieties of cheese for the topping, ground beef and sausages for the filling and whatever vegetables he found in the back of the fridge to make the meal just a tiny bit healthy. Tony loved to make it, loved to spend an entire afternoon shaping each piece of pasta if he really wanted to get out of his head. Experimenting with different sauces was his favourite – a tomato sauce for a rainy Sunday afternoon, a cheese sauce for an evening in front of the television, a mushroom and white wine sauce for a romantic evening in.

His pasta bake was the first meal he’d made when they’d finally adopted Peter, legally and truly. Maybe a small part of him had been wanting to show off, but Tony had really cared about making sure Peter had a real square meal. Something to help him recover from the small scrapes he’d gotten in his night-time brawls, to repair some of the damage of malnourishment from his previous home.

It was something so simple, but made with so much care.

Apple Pie

As stereotypical as it may have been, Steve loved apple pie. It had been something of a staple in his household when he’d been growing up and his mom had made it whenever they managed to get the fresh ingredients needed. Steve spoke so fondly of her hours in the kitchen, telling how he was often too ill and weak to do much more than sit at her side and watch, that sometimes Tony felt as though he’d been there too.

Sweet pastry wasn’t Tony’s favourite thing to make, so he chose to keep it for really special occasions. The sort of days where he wanted to spoil Steve a little, wanted to make him feel important and loved and all the things that Steve made Tony feel every day.

Tossing out the apple cores and scraps he’d collected on the side of his chopping board, Tony settled in to decorate his pie. He preferred the open-top approach, liking to cover his filling with thin slices of apple and a sprinkling of cinnamon and sugar instead of more pastry. Lost in thought, Tony startled when Steve wrapped his arms around Tony’s waist and pressed a kiss to his neck.

“Happy birthday,” Tony murmured as he fell back against Steve’s chest. “Wasn’t expecting you up just yet. Thought I tired you out last night.”

“Hm. You did a pretty good job, but the bed was empty. I don’t like it when the bed’s empty.”

“Sorry, darling. Wanted to make this for your birthday breakfast.”

Steve nosed at Tony’s shoulder, dropping kisses to the bare skin there. The first thing Tony had found on their bedroom floor when he’d woken at the crack of dawn was a workout shirt of Steve’s. Given its size, the material hung off Tony’s frame. It wasn’t practical, but it was cozy.

Sexy, as well, apparently, if the hardness pressing against his ass was anything to go by.

“Pie for breakfast?” Steve asked, hooking his chin over Tony’s shoulder as his hand shot out to snaffle a piece of apple floating in the bowl of warm water at Tony’s elbow. “How lucky am I?”

“Of course it’s pie for breakfast,” Tony said, hands working quickly to place the apple slices on the top of the very-nearly finished pie. He kicked at Steve’s ankle for punishment of the theft, but couldn’t find it in him to be too mean. “It’s not every day you turn four hundred and seventy-three.”

Standing as close as they were, Tony felt Steve’s laugh vibrate through him.

“Demon.”

“That’s me,” Tony replied happily, laughing with Steve and tilting his head to one side when Steve bit at his neck in retaliation. “Now, get off me, you brute. Let me stick this back in to brown.”

Moving back a fraction, Steve’s hands danced over Tony’s stomach. “How long do we have?”

Tony sighed happily when the pie was in, his eyes falling closed when Steve swapped from biting to sucking a deep bruise just above his pulse point. “Long enough.”

Indian Potato Pie

“Here, try this.”

Whatever Steve had been about to say was cut off by Tony shoving a forkful of potato-filled pastry in his mouth.

“Well? What do you think?”

Steve fanned his mouth. “I think it’s hot,” he said through the mouthful of crust. “Did you cook this with lava?”

“But what about the texture? The filling – do you think it needs more of a kick? I only put in a small amount of chilli flakes this time and a lot less ginger than I did before. I think I liked it better last time.”

“Tony,” Steve reached out and caught Tony’s hand, taking the fork from him before twisting their fingers together, “this pie is perfect. You’ve been making it since you were a child. You’ve perfected it so much you could make it in your sleep.”

“No,” Tony said dismissively, turning back to the counter and peering at the unbaked pie on the side. “I think it needs more salt. You can taste it in the crust. Let me just redo the pastry.”

Steve used his grip on Tony’s hand to pull Tony into his chest, wrapping his free arm around Tony’s waist to hold them close together. Tony gave up without a fight, his shoulders slumping as he rested his hand on Steve’s chest.

“Please stop worrying,” Steve whispered. “Replace the bit you shoved in my face and pop it in the oven. It’s going to be fine.”

“You don’t know that.”

“Yes, I do.” Steve ducked his head and caught Tony’s lips in a sweet kiss. “I know you and I know our son. He wouldn’t be bringing someone home unless they were special to him. There’s no way we can scare them off. Not with a pie, at least.”

Tony Stark-Rogers’ Recipe Book

The book had taken him years to complete. Tony had started it as a young boy when Jarvis had bought him an empty journal for his fourth birthday. For the first few years of its existence, Tony had hidden it under his bed just in case Howard ever entered his room and caught sight of it.

Every page had been handwritten, carefully crafted letters spelling out the words of each recipe (and most of them had even been spelt right because Jarvis had helped him).

There were sections of his Mama’s recipes, the ones she’d passed down to him from her Mama and even her Mama’s Mama. Though Tony had never gotten to meet either of them them, he’d known even as a child that that was pretty important.

Ana Jarvis had a section as well, one with special Hungarian recipes that Tony had needed a lot of help to spell. He’d shown Ana one day, down in the kitchens. He’d pointed out all the best bits that he’d coloured in the colours of Hungary’s flag and Ana had started crying. Tony had been horrified and started tearing up himself before she promised him that he was a lovely little boy and she was crying because she was so very proud of him. Even as an adult, Tony remembered that he’d gotten a huge hug that night before bed and an extra special plate of lemon squares brought up to his room – made just for him!

As he’d gotten older and his book had gotten fuller, Tony had carefully moved it from journal to journal, cutting out pages and sticking them back into the next edition with slight amendments or scribbled changes to quantities. It was his pride and joy.

“You’re going to take care of this, aren’t you?”

The child stared at him with wide eyes, so big they were nearly popping out of their head. They didn’t speak a word, but their head just about wobbled off with the velocity of their nodding.

“You’re going to listen to Nonno when he tells you what to do in the kitchen?”

Another round of silent nodding and Tony laughed, bending down to his grandchild’s level. Holding out his arms, he let his precious recipe book rest in the palm of his hands, ready for the taking.

“Go on then, bambino. It’s yours.”

Tiny fingers curled over the edges of the stained and battered book, complete concentration etched all over the child’s face. The love Tony felt threatened to beat right out of his chest and he reached out to flick his grandchild’s nose.

“What shall we bake for your first try? I’m pretty sure there’s a good recipe for mini cupcakes in there, somewhere, and I need an assistant chef.”

Tony had no qualms about handing his book down to the next wave of Starks. His children had grown up in the kitchen working tirelessly next to him to feed their teammates and friends, their siblings and their partners. It was time.

The kitchen was the heart of the home, after all.

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deadlynightshade-and-hyacinth · 4 years ago

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I’m Gonna Crawl

Chapter One July 20 1973 - Boston, MA

“Cali, where have you been?” My boss, Jonathon – clearly irritated by my lack of responsibility and ability to answer his non-stop phone calls since last Tuesday – harped into the telephone. I had been on a bedridden binge since my last fight with my long-time boyfriend, Daniel.

“Been under the weather.” I groaned into the receiver.

“I’ve been calling for a week. It’s Monday. You were supposed to be at the new client meeting on Friday. You know I don’t tolerate no-shows. I don’t care how good you are at your job.”

“Are you firing me Jonathan?” My tone unmoved. At this point I honestly didn’t care about the job. I had worked hard for years to get to the position I’m in but my situational depression had made me completely uninterested in the job I had loved and cared so much for. All the love and passion I had for anything and anyone had completely diminished the moment I stepped into Daniel’s dank office.

Jonathan sighed loudly. “No, Cali. I’m not firing you. But you need to show up to work. We have new clients waiting for your go ahead. If you can’t make it, I’m sure Stu can fill in for you.” He was baiting me. Stu was an idiot and he knew it and knew that I knew it.

“When’s the next meeting?” I took the bait, unwillingly.

“Tomorrow morning. Some big-time band wants their concert filmed.” He paused and sucked in a large breath. “These are important clients. Willing to pay big and we need the business so please, please, please don’t fuck this up, kid.”

I rolled my eyes at the assumption that I would fuck it up. “Have I ever fucked anything up since I’ve worked for you?”

“Not yet, but I can see you snowballing down a big hill… What’s going o-”

“Nothing personal here, Jon, but I really don’t want to talk about it. Let’s keep things professional.” I cut him off. I liked Jonathan; he was a good boss but he always tried to pry. I didn’t like people who pried.

“So, I’ll see you tomorrow morning, right?” He dropped it. “Nine-thirty A.M.” He emphasized.

“Yes, sir.” I breathed then placed the phone back on the receiver.

I laid my head on my pillow, sinking further into the comforts of the fluffy mattress. Not even thirty seconds after I hung up with Jon the phone rang again. I sat up and wretched the phone from its cradle. “I said I would be there Jon!” I murmured impatiently into the phone.

“Cali…” His voice was raw and rough. “Why have you been ignoring my calls?”

I clenched my jaw and took a deep breath through my nose, exhaling loudly through my mouth. “Daniel.” I murmured with quiet irritation. “I’ve been busy.” I lied.

“Busy with what?” His tone was sharp and accusatory. “Where have you been? With Jon? Is he the guy you’ve been fucking around with?”

“Excuse me?” The audacity. “You have no right to accuse me of anything.”

“No right?” He yelled. “I have every right. You belong to me. You don’t have the right-”

“I’m sorry, but I’m pretty sure that you’re the one fucking around with random skanks you meet at that dingy bar you call a business.” I retorted.

He was quiet. For a minute he didn’t say anything. He knew I was right. I had a million reasons not to be with this man but for the life of me I wasn’t strong enough to let him go. “I’m coming over.” He stated.

I looked over at the clock, it read 7:45 p.m. “No. I have to be at work early in the morning and I’m really not in the mood to continue this right now. I’ll call you tomorrow.” I hung up the phone before he could protest.

I dropped heavily back onto the pillow with a sigh. When I closed my eyes, I could see last Monday night. I had gotten off work and decided I would surprise him at the bar he managed. We had both been so busy with work we had only seen each other for a few hours in the evening four times in the past two weeks. He was cold and sometimes demeaning but he loved me, cared for me. This was no Romeo and Juliet. We were both damaged goods, maybe that’s why I loved him too.

Monday evening, I had rushed home, donned Daniels favorite little black dress and drove to the bar, The Tam. When I arrived, I walked in confident, greeted the bartender, Tim, grabbed a bottle of Southern Comfort and headed to the manager’s office, ignoring the odd look Tim had on his face. When I opened the door the liquor bottle slipped from my hand and shattered around my feet. Behind the desk was Karen, another bartender I had only met a couple of times, sitting on Daniels lap, skirt hiked up around her waist, Daniel’s jeans at his ankles.

“Jesus.” I muttered.

Karen looked at me like she was a deer caught in the headlights and under her I could see the smug tone underneath Daniel’s faux apologetic gaze.

As hard as I tried to fight them, I could feel the tears welling in my eyes. I refused to let him see them. I turned on my heels and left the bar in silence. I held myself together as I drove back to my apartment. When I finally made it, I closed the door, locked it, and leaned my body weight against it. With my fists in balls, I slid down the door and finally let go. The tears welled and rained down my cheeks. I sat there on the floor, unable to move, unable to see what I needed to forget. An hour later I heard the clumsy footsteps approaching my door.

My breath hitched, I started taking quiet and shallow breaths. I flinched when his fist hit the door. “Cal!” He groaned through the wood.

I stayed silent. I didn’t dare speak knowing full well my voice would betray me. I sat at the door for another thirty minutes listening to him begging and pleading then banging and cursing. When he had finally left, I poured myself a drink. And that was the beginning of everything.

I opened my eyes and stared at the ceiling. I let out a deep breath and shook the memory from my head. I had no more tears left. I had been crying for over a week and was tired of it.

“Shower.” I exhaled. I definitely needed one. I didn’t have enough strength or energy to stand so I started the shower, removed my clothes then sat down in the tub and let the water rain over me. After I had cleaned myself thoroughly, I got out and stared at myself in the mirror. I was thin before but now I could see I was getting even more thin. Food had not been on my mind lately and when it was it was quickly dismissed by the memory in my head and put on hold until I could regain my appetite. My cheeks were hollow and the bags under my eyes made me look washed out. I was beginning to look like my mother. Unhappy, unhealthy and colorless.

I knew that if I decided to stay up, I would only do no good to myself so I slid into a pair of panties, an old t-shirt and climbed into bed.

The morning was hard. I dragged myself out of bed and did my best to look presentable for the meeting with the new client’s. I didn’t want to go. I wanted to crawl back into bed and sleep forever but I knew that if I didn’t show up Stu would steal the client from me and I would probably slip further into myself creating a hole of despair.

Before I left the house I self-medicated. Jonathan would not approve, he detested marijuana but I didn’t care. It was something I had been doing more of over the past week, some may think a little too much. But again, I didn’t care.

I made it to work with only minutes to spare. I lit a cigarette and ran through the lobby not bothering to greet the lady behind the front desk who’s name always seemed to escape me. I made it to the conference room just as Jonathan was greeting the clients.

There were four men standing in the room. A large brick wall of a man shaking Jon’s hand looked up at me through the glass door and nodded toward me. Jon turned around with a look of relief.

I entered the room and put my cigarette out in an ashtray.

“You’re late.” Jon mumbled at me.

“Thanks, Jon. I can read a clock.” I retorted quietly; my sarcasm heavy.

“Can you?” He murmured barely audibly. He looked at the men and gestured to me,

“This is Cali, she will be taking care of scheduling, equipment, set up and photography on tour with you.”

“Pleased to meet you.” I nodded. And with that Jon left the room to me.

The big man extended his hand to me. “Peter Grant. Manager of the band.” He smiled, taking my hand and shaking it. “This is Robert, Jonesy, and John.” He pointed to each member of the band.

“Very nice to meet you.” I smiled back.

Robert, a bouncing blonde skipped over to me and took my hand in his, kissing the back of it. His smile was sweet and comforting. Before he let go of my hand, he sniffed around it, his smile grew wider. He raised an eyebrow “By the smell of it, you’ll be quite fun to have around.” He winked. “I was afraid we’d end up with a stingy old man with no sense of adventure.”

“I am very sorry,” I blushed, embarrassed. “Had a rough night.” More like a rough week. “I usually don’t smoke right before a meeting with clients.”

“Who’s smoking what?” John the mustached man bounded over, excitement in his eyes.

“Calm down Bonzo.” Jonesy put a firm hand on his shoulder.

“So, we would love to get down to the nitty-gritty and tell you what it is we are looking for from you but we apologetically are one man short. He too had a rough night.” Robert gave a look as though he was a child about to be scolded. “Fortunately, we can tell you what we…” He gestures to himself and the other two band members. “… want. Unfortunately, we cannot speak for Jimmy. I would try but he would no doubt complain.”

“Okay.” I smiled. “So, should we meet at another time?”

“Well,” Peter rubbed his chin in thought. “We have a show tonight at the Boston Garden. Then we set out for Providence. The boys have the 22nd off then we head over to Baltimore for the 23rd and Pittsburgh on the 24th.”

“Then two glorious days off!” Robert chimed.

“We’ll be in New York on the 27th for three shows at Madison Square Garden and that’s where you will come in handy.” Peter finished.

“So, we will be filming the three shows there?” I made the conclusion. “Why start filming at the end of your tour?”

Robert sat in a chair at the round table and put his feet up, crossing his ankles. “Ask Jimmy.” He murmured bitterly.

I got the feeling Jimmy was the one who called the shots. I was starting to have a bad feeling about him already.

“What Jimmy wants; Jimmy gets.” Peter confirmed.

Yep. I thought to myself. This is going to be a long three days. “So, I’ll be meeting you in New York on the 27th?” I assumed.

Peter and the boys looked at each other. Peter chuckled and shook his head. “No, lovey, you’ll be joining us today.”

“Oh.” I pursed my lips. “So, we will be filming more than just the three shows in NY?” I was slightly taken aback.

“No.” Peter smirked amused. “Jimmy,” He sighed heavily. “Would like you and your team to get a feel of the band and what they’re about before we start filming. He likes to be very…” He chose his words carefully. “thorough.”

“Fair enough.” I agreed. “I get the feeling I should be meeting with Jimmy to fully understand his vision.”

“Yes, he definitely wants to meet with the head of filming. Said he has lots to discuss.” Peter smiled warmly.

“Shall I set up a meeting for just him and I to go over everything?” I wondered.

Jonesy scoffed loudly. “Trust me, darling. You don’t want to be alone with good Ol’ Pagey.”

“Don’t scare her off Jonesy!” Peter scolded

Robert turned in his chair to look at Peter. “You know full well how he is.” He looked at me then back at Peter. “Especially around someone of her caliber.”

He gave Robert a look of warning. “He’ll be on his best behavior.” Peter assured me. “I’ll make sure of it.” His tone was menacing. Peter was definitely not someone you wanted to fuck with.

#I'm Gonna Crawl #Jimmy Page #Jimmy Page Fanfiction #Led Zeppelin Fanfiction #Robert Plant #John Paul Jones #John Bonham #Jimmy Page fan fic #how-many-more-times-blog

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queen-eliza-schuyler · 4 years ago

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Work Place Problems- Chapter 8

“I’m still unsure, mon ami. Are you sure staying private is the best plan of action?” Lafayette asked for the hundredth time.

“Yes, Laf, me and Thomas decided we weren’t going to go public yet,” Alexander said, rolling his eyes.

“Well, do not blame me for being cautious,” Lafayette huffs.

“I’m not, just relax,” Alex placates.

Lafayette sighs but concedes. “Whatever you say.”

Alex smiles. “Thank you, Laf!”

Lafayette twirled a pen. “Philip Schuyler gave up his seat to Aaron.”

Alex nodded. “He’s becoming a Democratic Republicans to threaten Thomas.”

Lafayette chuckles. “Sounds like him.”

***

“France and England have been on the verge of war, yet again. We need to know what we’ll do to help them- do we help them or stay out of it?” Washington asks the congressmen in front of him.

“Remember, my decision on this matter is not subject to congressional approval. The only person you have to convince is me. Secretary Jefferson, you have the floor, sir,” Washington said, going next back to his seat, letting Thomas take the floor.

“When we were on death’s door, when we were needy. We made a promise. We signed a treaty! We need money and guns and half a chance. Uh, who provided those funds?” Thomas asks, ready with his speech.

“France,” Madison mutters from behind him.

Thomas smiles at his admission and continues. “In return, they didn’t ask for land, only a promise that we’d lend a hand and stand with them if they fought against oppressors, and revolution is messy but now is the time to stand! Stand with our brothers as they fight against tyranny. I know that Alexander Hamilton is here and he would rather not have this debate; I’ll remind you that he is not Secretary of State! He knows nothing of loyalty! Smells like new money, dresses like fake royalty. Desperate to rise above his station, everything he does betrayed the ideals of our nation. Hey, and if you don’t know, now you know, Mr. President.”

Washington sat passively in his seat. “Thank you, Secretary Jefferson. Secretary Hamilton, your response?”

Jefferson smirks at his secret fiancé. Just because they were due to be married didn’t mean that they couldn’t have conflicting thoughts.

“You must be out of your goddamn mind if you think the President is going to bring the nation to the brink of meddling in the middle of a military mess, a game of chess, where France is Queen and King-less. We signed a treaty with a King whose head is now in a basket, would you like to take it out and ask it? Should we honor our treaty, King Louis’s head?

‘Uh, do whatever you want I’m super dead!’” Hamilton finishes boldly, creating a riot from the crowd.

“Enough enough, Hamilton is right.” Washington yells over the noise, raising his hands to calm the council.

“Mr. President!” Thomas protests.

“We’re too fragile to start another fight.”

“But sir, do we not fight for freedom?”

“Sure, when the French figure out who’s gonna lead them.”

“The people are leading!”

“The people are rioting! There’s a difference! Frankly, it’s a little disquieting that you would let your ideals blind you to reality! Hamilton?” Washington snaps.

“Sir,” Alex says out of instinct.

“Draft the statement of neutrality.” Washington orders.

Alexander nods and the council clears out.

“Did you forget what it was like to fight in a war that you felt like you were losing? France helped us yet we aren’t helping them?” Thomas asks his omega once they were together in Alex’s office.

“If we try to fight in every revolution in the world, we would never stop. Where do we draw the line?” Alexander counters.

“So quick witted,” Thomas drawls.

“Alas, I admit it,” Alexander says with faux disappointment.

“I bet you were quite a lawyer,” Thomas teases.

Alexander shrugged. “My defendants got acquitted.”

Thomas laughs. “Of course they did.”

After a beat of silence, Alex looks up to see uncertainty written on Thomas’s face.

“Is something wrong, Thomas? If you cheated on me again, I swear to god I’m gonna fucking-” Alexander threatens.

“No, no, Jesus, no. I was wondering…. would you like to move into my manor with me? We’re getting married soon anyways and my house is closer to the office,” Thomas said, attempting to feign nonchalance.

Alexander snickers. “Too proud to admit you want me close at all times?”

Thomas puts a hand on his heart and lets out an exaggerated sigh. “My pride is wounded, Alexander.”

Alex throws his head back and laughs. “Yes, I would like to move in with you. As long as you don’t wake me up in the mornings.”

Thomas sighs. “That might be a problem.

Alexander raises an eyebrow. “How so?”

“I might be an early waker,” Thomas admits.

Alexander’s eyes narrow. “How early?”

“5:30 early.”

“Jesus fuck! How the hell do you function?”

“My natural finesse.”

“I call bullshit.”

“It’s coffee.”

“Ok, I love you again.”

Thomas snorts. “I’d hope so. The marriage is after the election.”

Alexander sticks his tongue out and Thomas immediately reciprocates without thinking.

“Childish brat,” Thomas huffs.

“Please, you’re no better. And you love me,” Alexander counters knowingly.

“I suppose I do,” Thomas says, slightly smiling.

#thomas jefferson #alexander hamilton #jamilton

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thepainterladyusa · 2 years ago

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maddiemccarthy · 5 years ago

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DATE&TIME: Sunday 12/1, late morning

LOCATION: Sails restaurant

TAGGING: Sugar Motta @usecodesugar

WARNINGS: just girls, gossiping over brunch

Sometimes time out with a girl friend was all Madison needed to refocus. Sure it used to be later at night and involve cocktails, but fancy egg bendicts and faux mimosas made with ginger ale would do the trick too. And Sugar, who had the taste for all things fancy, was obviously the perfect companion for such a treat. Sitting window side at Sails, able to watch the waves crash along the shoreline while not being chilled by the wind, the two had nearly finished off the starter basket of bread when Madison leaned back in her seat for a breather. “Okay, tell me some good gossip, I feel like everyone just talks baby to me anymore.”

#old character #para: all

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wlw-multi-fandom-imagines · 6 years ago

Note

“No, no, no! I can’t be here! I need to go” with Madison please? Maybe R was having a fight with M and it leads to an awful breakup but *spoiler alert* it slowly dawns R that she’s dead and that’s her personal hell

“You know what, Y/N? I hope you fucking rot.”

You stared ahead at the white wall in front of you, now numb to the vicious insults being hurled at you. The first 10 or so fights had been awful, even after you realized that this wasn’t real. Whatever demon or entity impersonating Madison had clearly done their research because they managed to break your heart more times than you ever thought you could survive.

Waking up in Hell had been so disorienting that you managed to convince yourself that you were actually still alive for a while. Surely this had to be a coma or something else that you could come back from, because you couldn’t endure this for eternity. You had clawed at the locked door to the bedroom that the two of you shared at the Academy, begging to be let out. Madison’s doppelganger just mocked your pleas in a sickly voice; “No, no, no! I can’t be here! I need to go!”

Now you sat through an endless cycle of one-sided screaming matches, drinking the warm vodka from the nightstand that never ran out. Sometimes she’d slap you out of anger, or cry, or throw things just to get a reaction. The torture was mostly mental though. This horrid rendition of the woman you loved brought up things you had never told the real her; things from your adolescence that you had managed to forget down in New Orleans.

You didn’t even notice their appearance until the faux-Madison began to smolder. Swaying a bit on your feet as you stood up from the edge of the bed, you turned around and let your jaw drop.

“I was going to ask if you missed me, but I guess I’m a part of your Hell-”

Madison wasn’t able to finish her quip because you threw your arms around her so tightly she lost her breath for a second.

“So, she wasn’t as nice as me?” the blonde’s voice trembled a little, just as it used to when she was trying to fight back tears. You leaned back enough to look at her, completely oblivious to the tall figure watching you with his hands clasped in front of him.

“It’s really you,” you marveled, half expecting her to dissolve under your touch. Madison leaned up and kissed you for so long you forgot how to breathe. When she begrudgingly pulled back, you gulped down a lungful of air and tried to stop your pulse from racing.

“Cigarette?” she offered, pulling a carton out of her pocket. You nodded, allowing her to place one between your parted lips and light it with a snap of her fingers.

“Michael, care to get us out of here?” Madison addressed the man in the room for the first time since appearing and you tried to ignore the way he made your stomach churn. Whoever or whatever he was, he had brought her back to you.

He could burn the whole world down for all you cared.

#madison montgomery #madison montgomery imagine #madison montgomery x reader #american horror story #american horror story imagine #wlw imagines

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arcanesupern0va · 5 years ago

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Rick In The Water; Ch6: Do You Feel It

Summary: Oh shit, we gon' meet Unity. (I had to, come on now.) Also, there's some other stuff, the whole chapter isn't Unity shenanigans, I'm basically using her. OHWELL.

A/N: T H I N G S A R E S T A R T I N G T O G E T S M U T T Y We don't get far, yet, but I couldn't let Faux Rick be the only one to get a piece of Nova. ;D Oh, I think it goes without saying this fic regards canon more along the lines of: "Oh, that's a nice storyline you got there, mind if I just.... take it and rework it for my own silly needs?" I mean, I referenced the pilot and then Morty going to the citadel and COMPLETELY skipped over Rick Potion Number 9. But That's not to say it'll never come back. 😎 CW: Drug use, for sure. Pairing: Rick Sanchez/Reader Word Count: 5564

My ao3

Masterlist

|Ch5: I Wanna Be Yours|

Waking up in the Smith house was bizarre. It had been years since I’d had the pleasure, but these days things were a lot different. I woke up most mornings to Summer flipping through channels while simultaneously nose deep in her phone, most likely already texting Madison. She would always apologize when the volume woke me up, but still every morning the volume would inch up until sleep was impossible. The days would be spent hanging out with Beth if she was free or Rick if he wasn’t being completely moody, which was happening more often than not lately. He assured me he wasn’t upset with me for doing what I had to do to get away from the Rick that kidnapped me, but now and then I would catch him giving me that same unreadable look he gave me the first night I got here.

Another morning, another loud MTV reality show, and I was at my wit's end. I rolled over to give Summer a piece of my mind only to find Rick intently focused on whatever dating show rerun was on.

“The fuck are you watching?” I grumbled, sitting up and rubbing the sleep from my eyes.

“Oh good, you’re awake,” he said, flicking the screen off and standing up. “We’ve got shit to do today in the Blickblarten System.” He disappeared to his garage, Summer replacing him.

“Oh thank god,” she mumbled, plopping back down in her usual place now that Rick had vacated it. She flipped the TV back on, the brazen tones coming from it propelling me from the couch to continue waking up in peace. As I did my business in the bathroom, I flipped through messages from Madi. She was surprisingly silent on the separation front but I suspected that had to do with the fact she was a smart girl. She knew that things at home weren’t… right. Not that she had the best marriage role models between Beth and I. Beth and Jerry weren’t quite as dysfunctional as Ryan and I, but she was still struggling in her own ways. I wished there was something I could do to help her, but short of leaving her husband as well, I was fresh out of good ideas.

An urgent knock on the bathroom door broke me out of my reverie as Rick started shouting on the other side. “Nova, what the fuck, we have shit to do!” He already sounded frustrated so I finished up, flushing the toilet as I flung the door open, hoping to match his frustration. He glared down at me, but his defense quickly crumbled as that unreadable look reemerged. “C-Come on, let's just go already,” he growled, turning away.

“I’m not dressed,” I shouted after him, heading to Jerry’s office to grab my clothes. Beth may have conceded to let me sleep on her couch, but she insisted I let her keep my things somewhere more private. He huffed, leaning against the wall to wait for me. His attitude was starting to get to me this morning, so I took extra care to take just a little bit longer picking out something to wear.

“We-We’re not going to a fucking ball- just pick something and let's go-” he yelled as he barged in impatiently. Still in my underwear and bra, instead of getting embarrassed, I wanted to test the waters after everything that had happened. I stared at him intently as I bent over, picking up my shirt slowly. He watched carefully as I pulled it over my head, pulling it down very slowly to cover the top half of my body. The look he gave me was a little more readable, shifting from the frustration from earlier to one of astonishment. He turned away, his cheeks redder than I’d ever seen them. My attempt to elicit a reaction from him successful, I finished getting ready, pulling on my yoga pants and running shoes and meeting him at the door. He didn’t say a word as he led me to the garage and it seemed, to my dismay, that his frustration had returned, as he climbed into his ship and slammed the door behind him.

“You know, you can’t expect me to just wake up and be ready to go just because you are,” I scolded him as I opened the passenger side door. Before climbing in, I surveyed the garage, looking for our usual companion on these adventures. “Where’s Morty?” I asked, finally climbing into the passenger seat and looking in the back seat.

“He didn’t want to go,” he told me gruffly with a shrug, starting the engine and flying out of the garage.

“Since when do you accept that kind of response from him?” I questioned cautiously. Morty had little to no choice when it came to going anywhere with his grandfather. Panic started to wash over me as memories of the last time a Rick ushered me out of my home without a Morty anywhere to be seen resurfaced. I quickly pressed the spot on the back of my hand, immediately thinking the worst of the Rick next to me. The alarm started blaring on Rick’s arm, and I let out a sigh of relief.

“Don’t worry, it’s really me,” he sighed, disengaging the alarm and glancing over at me. Space was flying by us, offering no real scenery to lose myself in as we sped through.

“Well, you had me fooled,” I shot back at him, “You’ve been acting really weird Rick. What the hell is up with you?”

“N-Nothing,” he denied unconvincingly. “This is just how I am, get used to it.” My eyes narrowed at him in an instant.

“The fuck do you mean this is just how you are? You weren’t like this before the citadel. I thought we went over this, I was trying to get away from that asshole, I wasn’t into him or whatever,” I snarled at him.

“And I thought I told you I didn’t care about that shit Nova,” Rick countered dismissively. “It fucking sucks, but you had to do what you had to do. I can’t blame you for that.”

“Still sure feels like you are though,” I bit back at him coldly. He didn’t respond, outside of pulling out his flask and taking a long drink. “I wish you would just tell me what the fuck is wrong.”

He turned to consider me a moment, trying to stay angry, but it seemed he couldn’t. That same unreadable goddamn stupid ass fucking look covered his face again and I sighed in frustration, conceding I would get nowhere with him today. I was coming to terms with a silent Rick adventure when he abruptly slammed the gear shift into hover mode and pulled me over to him, pushing his lips onto mine desperately. Stunned at first, I quickly recovered and returned his kiss eagerly.

Oh, that makes more sense.

Wasting no time, I mounted his lap as his hands ran up under the back of my shirt. He was kissing me like it was the only way he was going to keep breathing, and I returned his passion twofold. He moved away from my mouth, kissing down my neck only to be stopped the hem of the t-shirt I was wearing. I groaned in frustration, preparing to lock my fingers around the hem to pull it off when I blinding light filled the cab of the spaceship, accompanied by a shrill alarm.

“Rick, what the fuck is happening?” I screamed as the ship started being pulled upward. He let out a frustrated groan, nudging me to move off of him. He took the craft out of hover and tried to fight the pull of the beam to no avail. I covered my ears against the blaring alarm as we were enveloped by a much larger ship. Rick immediately pulled out his portal gun, ready to cut our losses as a loud, almost sultry voice rang out of a speaker to our left, freezing him in his tracks.

“Hey, Rick.”

*+*

“Goddammit Unity, couldn’t you have just sent out a signal or something? You scared the shit out of us,” Rick yelled at the man that had been sent down to greet us. He was tall, with purple and green reptilian skin, but as he helped me out of the ship I was surprised to find him soft to the touch.

“Who’s this?” the man regarded me coldly, and I swore I heard the jealousy in his tone.

“Unity, this Nova,” Rick introduced us hesitantly. “Nova, this is… Unity. They’re a-a hivemind.”

“A hivemind?” I asked, completely confused. “Like The Faculty?”

“Th-The Faculty?” Rick sputtered. “That’s a really old reference, but I mean, sure, kind of?”

“Nova?” Unity asked hesitantly, “The Nova?”

Rick sighed, looking between the two of us. “Yeah, Une, the Nova.” The man’s eyes lit up, grabbing my hand gleefully.

“Oh, I have heard so much about you,” he squealed, dragging me higher up into the ship, leaving a stunned Rick in our wake. “So he finally went back, did he? How long did it take him to finally talk to you when he got back?” Unity asked eagerly, leading me through a small crowd of his people who all turned to smile knowingly at me.

“I-I don’t know what you mean? I saw him on the first day he was back,” I told him. He brought me to what looked like a captain’s cabin of the enormous ship, leaving me with an admittedly attractive female of his species who sat me down on her large bed.

“That’s great! He used to talk about you constantly-” The Unity female continued the conversation seamlessly before Rick barged through the door.

“N-No, Une, stop. D-Don’t- j-just stop talking- to her,” he begged the woman, glaring up at him.

“I will do no such thing, Rick Sanchez,” she chastised him, “I had to listen to you babble about her every night when you got drunk off your ass, so I deserve the chance to actually get to know her. I will give you one thing, she is absolutely gorgeous.” I blushed at the woman’s kind words, smiling meekly up at Rick.

“W-We were in the middle of s-something you know, wh-when you interrupted.” His eyes flitted to me desperately, but I had no help I could offer him. I was too curious about Unity. “You could’ve sent out a friendly message or something.” He was getting more and more flustered by the minute, trying his hardest to stop any conversation between Unity and me.

“I did Rick, you didn’t answer,” she said, furrowing her brow, “I wasn’t even sure it was you so I figured it was either you or a new member of my family. Win-Win. But I definitely wasn’t expecting her.” Unity eyed me again, seeming to want to commit me to memory.

“Y-Yeah, well you’ve met her,” Rick smiled hesitantly. “N-Now come on Nova, we have to be getting to Blickbarten System. It was nice seeing you Une.”

“You’ll do nothing of the sort,” Unity said calmly, standing up to confront him. “Stay for a while, there’s no need to rush.”

“Y-Yeah there is,” he insisted, grabbing my arm to pull me out of there.

“We have fractal dust,” she told him, a smirk playing on her face when he stopped, dropping my wrist and turning back to her. “Stay, hang out for a while.”

“N-Nova, you’ll be alright with Unity, a-alright? It-It’s been years since I’ve been able to get my hands on some fractal dust.” His eyes lit up with excitement as Unity gently pulled me back onto the bed with her and another of her species entered and led Rick down a small spiral staircase.

“Relax Nova, Rick’s just downstairs,” Unity smiled calmly.

“O-Okay.” I tried willing myself to relax at Unity’s request.

It wasn’t working.

“So. Nova. Tell me about yourself,” Unity asked curiously like this was a slumber party and I was the new kid in town.

“I-I’ve known Rick since I was a kid,” I stammered, “I’m not that interesting.”

“I’m sure he’d beg to disagree,” she smirked wickedly.

“I’m a lot more interested in you though, how do you know Rick?” I asked her, desperate to change the topic to anything but me.

“We dated- briefly,” she explained simply, “He was incredible, but I had aspirations, I wanted to take over a nice planet and really settle down.”

“Th-That’s nice,” I offered nervously. For how curious I was about her, any questions I wanted to ask her had turned into mush in my brain. “I-Is that why you broke up?”

“Not necessarily. He also wouldn’t shut the hell up about you!” Her tone briefly became manic before she cleared her throat delicately and continued. “I-I mean, how’s a hivemind supposed to feel wanted when the object of their affection is clearly hung up on someone else!?” she lamented bitterly, “Nothing against you sweetheart, it hurt back then, but I’m okay now,” she assured me with a pat on my back.

“O-Okay,” I sputtered.

“So are you guys a thing? Or are you still in that awkward phase of will they won’t they or something?” she asked as she stood up, fluffing her hair in the mirror.

“I- uh- we’re not really anything as far as I know.” It was my turn to be flustered.

“You mean to tell me that ‘something’ you were in the middle of wasn’t a hot bout of grandpa fuckin’?” She turned and giggled at me, causing my face to go completely red.

“N-N-No!” I denied loudly, “I-I mean, we kissed, b-b-but we did-didn’t f-fu-”

“Fuck sweetie, you can say it,” she said condescendingly as she returned to her mirror to apply her lipstick. “So if you guys aren’t a thing, you mind if I hit it on a rebound? He is looking a lot better than I remembered.”

“I-I, I mean, that’s really up to him.” I was floored at her request, and a part of my mind was screaming at me to shut the fuck up, to tell her no, but she grinned at my ‘permission’, turning to face me again.

“Oh goodie, I know he can’t resist me,” she smiled smugly, spritzing herself with a bottle of perfume from her vanity. “You want me to send one of me of your preferred gender up for you to have fun with? No judgment sweetheart.”

“I-Uh, no, that’s okay. Th-Thanks,” I assured her. She shrugged, turning away and leaving me alone in her room.

+Rick+

Jesus fucking christ, fucking Unity.

Of all the times for my past to come back to haunt me, why did it have to be now? I finally decide to make my move and she just has to come through with the cockblock. I could still feel Nova’s skin, her weight, hell, her scent as she mounted me. Fuck, I could’ve blown my load right there. Now Nova was up there gossiping with my ex about god knows what embarrassing shit. She just had to have fractal dust on hand, didn’t she? I hadn’t had that since the last time I was with her. It was probably the only thing that would’ve gotten me to leave Nova there with her.

A male Unity led me to a small lounge where another of her subjects had lines set up for me, ready to go. My mouth was watering as I sat down on the uncomfortably plush couch, leaning forward and doing a line. The world swirled around me as the husks Unity was possessing surrounded me, a hot Redhead, a guy with blue hair and the guy that initially greeted us took their own hits. I sunk back into the couch, letting the effects of the drug overtake my body, grateful for the feeling of release I was finally getting. It felt like my body was truly starting to relax

“Hey, Rick,” a sultry voice came from beside me. I struggled to turn my head, but when it finally moved, I was surprised to see the Captain Unity husk eyeing me like she was ready to eat me alive.

“H-Hey Une, where’s Nova?” I asked lazily, turning my head back to the ceiling to watch as the dots on the ceiling danced around above me.

“She’s fine, Rick. She wanted me to come and check on you.” She dragged her fingers up and down my chest as she spoke, sending shivers down my spine.

“Did she now?” I asked with a smile. That’s my Nova, always trying to take care of me. I smiled to myself as thoughts of Nova seemed to come to life in front of me. Images of her bringing me coffee first thing in the morning, even memories I’d concocted of my own, like her draping a blanket over me when I’d passed out at my workbench. She was too good to me. Unity watched me as I reminisced, continuing to walk her fingers over me. My mind warped Captain Unity into Nova, and I allowed her to bring her hand up under my shirt. Her touch was sending more chills through my entire body.

“Oh, Nova,” I murmured, looking over at her. She smiled uncomfortably at me but didn’t stop touching me. I guided her over to me, bringing her to rest on my lap as she closed the gap between us, kissing me with the same rough passion from earlier. I brought my hands up, pushing her shirt up to feel the delicate muscles in her back as she moved on top of me.

“You wanna do another line?” Nova whispered against my ear, before leaning over to grab the tray from the table in front of us. I nodded quickly, grabbing the bill I had used earlier. This hit instilled euphoria in me and as soon as she sat the tray safely back on the table, I picked her up and rested her back on the couch. I tugged her shirt up over her head, tossing it away from us as I eagerly returned to her chest. Her bra still stood between us, and as buried my face in her hair and reached around her back for the clasp, I finally started noticing something was wrong. I pulled away, realizing Nova smelled an awful lot like the cheap perfume Unity used to always wear when we were together. I blinked repeatedly until the Nova in front of me turned back into the Captain Unity she truly was.

“Unity? What the fuck are you doing?” I recoiled back from her, grabbing her shirt and throwing it back at her.

“You can call me by her name if you want. I don’t mind,” she pleaded, crawling over the couch to me and grabbing the lapels of my lab coat. “I’ve never minded, I swear,” she murmured in my ear

“Ugh, no. Stop. Get away from me.” I pushed her back onto the couch. My adrenaline was lessening the effects of the fractal dust as the different husks around me glared at me sadly. “Where’s Nova?” I asked sharply, wiping the leftover saliva away from my mouth.

“Sh-She’s upstairs,” Captain Unity relented, pointing to the stairs to her room pitifully. I stormed up to find Nova, pulling my flask out in an attempt to get the taste of Unity out of my mouth. I burst through the door to find Nova sitting sadly on the bed, looking very unsure of how she even got there in the first place.

“C-Come on Nova, we’ve gotta go,” I growled, grabbing her hand and leaving the room.

“R-Rick? What happened?” she asked fearfully as I pulled her behind me, ignoring all of the Unity husks approaching me.

“We’ve gotta get the fuck outta here,” I seethed, “I knew staying here was a bad fucking idea.”

“Wh-what happened?”

“L-Look, I’ll explain once we’re far away from here, okay?” My head was still spinning when we finally made it to the ship and I hesitated by the driver’s side door. “You can drive a stick, right? It’s not that hard, I’m just- I’m rollin’ pretty fucking hard and I’m gonna need you to fly us out of here.”

“I-I can try,” she swallowed her fear as I boosted her into my seat before making my way around to the passenger seat. The engine started, but the bay door beneath us didn’t open.

“Unity, open this fucking door!” I roared, rolling down the window.

“Come on Rick! Just stay for a little while!” the blue-haired Unity asked desperately, “It could be like old times!”

“N-Now!” I shouted viciously. The blue-haired Unity hung his head, opening the bay door, allowing us to fall through. “A-Alright, Nova, listen to me.” I directed her through the basics of flying as we lazily fell through space. She caught on quickly, rocketing us out into the expanse of space. Once Unity’s ship had disappeared behind us, she slowed, shifting into hover mode.

“You wanna explain to me what the fuck that was all about?” she asked eyes narrowed as she turned to me.

“Wh-What the fuck did you say to Unity?” I shot back at her.

“Nothing!” she exclaimed, “She was asking if w-we were a th-thing and I told her no!”

“Anything else?” I pressed, “Anything that would explain why she came down and hopped on my lap?” I lied. She didn’t need to know all the details and I likely wouldn’t remember them for much longer anyway.

“She asked if I minded if she tried to hit that on the rebound. I-I told her that it would be up to you,” she revealed shamefully, “What. Happened?”

“Well, she did try. She went with the tried and true method of getting me really fucking high and trying to jump my bones,” I told her, disgusted with Unity for being so goddamn brazen.

“D-did you guys-”

“No!” I stopped her. “I realized- I stopped her.”

Shit.

“What did you realize Rick?” She pressed.

The fractal dust still in my system was back in full effect now that I wasn’t pumping through adrenaline and I couldn’t stop myself from continuing. “I realized she wasn’t you, okay?”

“Oh.”

“Yeah, oh.”

“Look Rick, that kiss-”

“Nova, if you’re about to tell me it doesn’t have to mean anything then you haven’t been paying attention to anything that’s been happening,” I told her flatly, not letting her finish.

“B-But, Unity-”

I stopped her this time with a kiss, unwilling to hear another word about what she thought I wanted. I couldn’t believe I didn’t realize it wasn’t her sooner, just by the taste of her mouth. Nova was warm and comforting where Unity had been cold. I’d chalk it up now to be the reptilian life form she had been inhabiting, but I still couldn’t believe it hadn’t been a dead giveaway. Nova crossed the cab again, resting in my lap. I made quick work of her top, tossing it back into the seat next to me. Her skin was soft against my lips as I traced around the curves of her breasts. She tilted her head back, moaning from my touch.

“Rick,” she hissed as I bit her gently. Her hips gyrated slowly against me, and I couldn’t stop myself as I brought my hands up to her breasts. I had to take a deep breath to stop myself from ravaging her right here in this ship. As I paused, she took control, tilting forward again to find my neck. She nibbled gently, and a shudder shook my entire body as my hand tightened around her breast.

“Ship, recline the passenger seat and remove armrests,” I ordered, my voice shaky. It repeated my order back to me and I flipped Nova over, resting her beneath me. Looking down at her like this, it was intoxicating in a way I never thought possible. She was looking up at me full of desire and lust, making my head spin. She looked hesitant, however, and withdrew slightly, giving her some space.

“Rick, please don’t be mad, I want this, I want you, but not here. N-Not like this,” she pleaded softly.

“Of course Nova,” I panted, returning to the driver seat and tossing her shirt back to her. My head was still spinning, in part from the drugs, but also her words. Words I’d been longing to hear for months.

“I want you.”

+Nova+

“We should still probably head to the Blickblarten System,” Rick told me, his voice still husky. I nodded in agreeance as he shifted out of hover and headed there. He still seemed lost in his own thoughts, but he was different from before, no longer as cold and distant, instead, he was far more inclined to even look at me again. The silence allowed me to slip into my own head.

Unity going after him, not a huge surprise but him resisting her while completely out of his mind? That was a different story. I’d seen how Ricks could get about their Novas, but I guess a part of me never expected it to be reflected in my Rick. I should’ve expected it though, considering what Rick W-236 had said about him.

“Your Rick is considered the Rogue Rick, rash and emotional.”

We landed on yet another vibrant planet, but where the last one had been mostly plant life, this one was filled with a bustling city. Tall skyscrapers lived up to their names, bearing logos in foreign languages. We parked the ship next to one of the large skyscrapers, Rick assuring me the walk would be worth it if it meant we had a ship to return to. Rick took my hand, leading me quickly through the city until we reached a seedier part of town.

“Stay close to me,” he murmured, tightening his grip on my hand.

“Rick, where are we?” I whispered nervously, as a creature with a bulbous head eyed me lecherously.

“This is Shingrap,” he explained, “I know a guy here, it should only take a minute.” He also seemed to have spotted the lecherous creature because he pulled out his pistol with his free hand and pulled me closer. We approached a burnt-out building and I stopped in front, eyeing it hesitantly. “Nova, it’s going to be okay, come on. Let’s get this over with,” Rick urged, watching behind us. The bulbous headed creature had been joined by his friend, edging ever closer toward us. Once we were safely in the building, Rick released my hand and sealed the door behind us. I tried to follow him as he climbed the stairs two to three at a time but my legs were nowhere near as long. He stopped a couple of flights ahead of me, leaning over the railing with a huff.

“I’m sorry my legs aren’t the length of my body?” I shot up at him as he glared down at me, smirking.

“Just hurry up Nova,” he sighed, leaning against the railing to wait. I caught up to him and he slowed his pace to allow me to keep up. We finally reached the top floor, both of us panting from the extreme amount of exercise. He knocked on the door in a specific pattern, very reminiscent of the knock Beth and I used for each other. A rusted peeker opened to reveal a very angry pair of eyes. They calmed at the sight of Rick and me and the door was pulled open to reveal…

Another fucking Rick. Jesus fucking christ.

“Another one? Aren’t you friends with anyone but yourself?” I asked darkly as this new Rick welcomed us across his threshold, eyeing me with that same wistful gaze Riq IV had for me. He was dressed in military garb, a deep gash marring his right eye.

“Ah, you have yourself a Nova,” he remarked, “You’re a lucky son of a bitch.”

“Yeah, yeah. Let’s just do our business so I can get out of here.” Rick directed me behind him, away from Scar Rick.

“N-No, it’s been years since I’ve seen a Nova. Come out here where I can see you, sweetheart. I’m not going to hurt you,” he insisted. Rick sighed, guiding me out from behind him for Scar to see. I blushed as Scar’s eyes coated me with bitter longing before Rick tucked me back behind him while he conducted his business. Scar gave Rick what looked like a wad of Monopoly money before Rick pulled a large crystal from god knows where in his lab coat before nodding and turning to leave. Scar was still watching me as Rick grabbed my hand. “W-Wait,” he stopped us.

“What do you want now?” Rick sighed impatiently.

“C-Can I talk to Nova for a moment? J-Just a moment, that’s all I ask,” Scar urged carefully, watching my Rick’s response. Rick didn’t respond, instead, he turned to me to indicate the decision was up to me.

“Wh-What’s up?” I inquired nervously as I approached him.

“I-I lost my Nova when we formed the Citadel,” he explained, “The federation kidnapped her to try to get information out of her and-” his voice hitched for a moment, and I knew what he needed. I wrapped my arms around the broken man in front of me. He gripped me tightly, burying his face in my hair as he sobbed gently. When we broke apart, he thanked me and I nodded. I returned to my Rick’s side, clasping his hand in mine as he opened a portal in front of us. Scar watched us through watery eyes as we disappeared on the other side.

“So why exactly couldn’t we have just portaled there from the get-go?” I asked irritably.

The portal dropped us next to the car. Rick climbed in, counting his monopoly money looking satisfied. “That was a Rick? You can’t just portal into a Rick in hiding’s safe house,” he explained, pocketing the money with one of his damn, know-it-all smirks. “You wanna go somewhere fun now?” he asked his smirk widening into a grin. I nodded hesitantly as he lifted off, rocketing away from the planet.

“That poor Rick,” I commented mournfully as he navigated. He glanced over at me, raising an eyebrow before shaking his head and smiling.

“You know why Ricks and Novas get along so well?” I shook my head, eager for him to continue. “Where a Morty is an IQ Cloak, Novas- well Novas offer a balance to a Ricks mental state. Y-Y-Y-You see, a Rick's mental state fluctuates between ‘I am a fucking GOD’ to ‘Everything is pointless’. A Nova offers a balance to that. It doesn’t always w-work, but with how even-tempered and rational Novas can be… i-i-it just works out. D-Does that make any fucking sense?” he finished nervously.

“I think so, Rick,” I smiled, resting my hand on his.

“Th-That’s why Ricks are so attached. It’s a chemical thing. I-I know I can be… difficult-”

“To say the least.”

“BUT, it’s why I have such a hard time leaving you alone.”

“R-Rick, I don’t know what to do about Ryan,” I admitted softly, “I don’t love him, I haven’t loved him in a very long time but... what if that’s what causes his rage to break? I don’t want to push the limits.”

“Nova, just let me kill him. I want to do it. It would be a fucking honor,” Rick assured me darkly.

“No Rick…”

“What I’m hearing here is, yes, Rick, do it, Rick, I won’t be mad if you do, Rick,” he grinned slyly.

“Seriously, there’s got to be another way,” I shoved him gently.

“There really isn’t one,” he told me regretfully, “Either you leave him and it doesn’t make him snap or it does. If he doesn’t, he gets to live his life as a docile little bird, or he dies. It’s that simple. Fortunately, it doesn’t seem like there have been any problems yet.”

“Yeeaahh, about that,” I drew out nervously. He took a deep breath, before raising his eyebrows at me, waiting for me to continue. “Th-The night that he kicked me out, he was asking me to stop hanging out around you because I told him we’d had a bad adventure-”

“That’s putting it lightly.”

“I told him we’d had a bad adventure,” I pressed on through his interruption, “and I told him, no, I liked hanging out with you and I think, even if only for a minute, his rage broke. He looked furious. Like he was going to kill me.”

Rick was quiet for a moment, considering my words. “Nova, don’t go home,” he told me, deathly serious.

“I’m going to have to see him again eventually,” I insisted, “There’s Madi to consider to ya know.”

“We’ll get Madi when she comes home, Summer will like having her BFF living with her,” he rationalized. “I’m serious Nova. When that dampener snaps- think of it like a bridge. A-all of that rage is going to flood out like fucking ocean.” He frantically ran his hand through his hair as he tried to contain his panic. His eyes lit up though, as a billboard appeared on a small dwarf planet. “Oh shit, we’re here!” he exclaimed, all previous panic seemingly erased.

“We’re… where?”

“BLIPS AND CHITZ!”

+Ch7: Shameful Metaphors+

#rick and morty #rick and morty fanfiction #rick sanchez x reader #rick sanchez/reader

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butlersforge · 1 year ago

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perfectcreaturerarelyseen · 5 years ago

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To Fall for the Fae | 09 (M)

Pairing: Andrew Hozier-Byrne/Unknown Female

Genre: Fantasy, Modern, Romance, Smut, Fluff, Angst

Words: Chapter 9: 1,991

Summary: Andrew Hozier-Byrne unknowingly searches for the woman that pulled him from the bog 3,000 years ago. Unknown to either of them that in this modern world their souls are still intertwined from the life they shared long ago. She is unavailable, he’s not giving up. Will the woman that inspires his music be wooed by his songs or will he lose his chance? That’s Wasteland, Baby!

Note: A/N: This is a story requested by my best friend to be written about her favorite musician. I have been inspiried by his songs and specific lines. Any reference to his music is used in the name of inspiration and creating art. I do not own any of his music. Any reference to Hozier in this story is fictional and used by the author in the name of crafting art. I want to thank all who read it. I have fallen in love with writing this story and would love to hear from you. It will be written in installments. The finished story will be at the very least over 50,000 words. I’m getting to the smut, this story has a mind of it’s own. I’m going to stop putting language and sexual warnings for the most part. It’s rated M for a reason. Read at your own discretion. Enjoy loves.

To Fall for the Fae: Chapter 9

The funeral pyre grew. It seemed every time they came close to extinguishing the flame, there were more bodies to add to it. This fucked village remained in a standstill with the monsters in the woods as long as the Forest Father was there. ‘How long would he stay?’ was the question on everyone’s mind, as he trudged into the woods day in and day out. Often he came back out silent and covered in his own silver blood. The forest was not going to give him this win so easily, it seemed.

His arms and legs became a rainbow of stitches as Willow Woman made small dedicated Xs on each bite in every different color thread she had at her disposal. He had so many bites that they stopped counting. He’d come back from the woods, she’d sew him up, then they'd lie there wrapped in each other’s arms until night fell.

Still, the village spent every day walking on a wire. They could hear the monsters pacing at the very edge of the forest. Howling, they wanted to be released. They were hungry. Desperate for that silver blood. The Forest Father kept them at bay. They bid their time until he left. They could wait. Not patiently, but they could wait.

The Elder worried continuously. The lines in her face grew deeper and more pronounced as leaders from other villages began to bring their dead to what had become a communal funeral pyre in creaking wooden carts shiny with silver blood.

The sickly sweet smell, like rotting flowers, filled the village so often that Madison and Andrew had grown accustomed to it. As they stole among the buildings they would bring their shirts up over their nose and mouth to escape the choking smoke. At night that smell of death filled the cabin like morbid incense smoke.

He never asked for a different place to stay and no one dare off him one. Her cabin was his cabin. It was a silent agreement that all had come to terms with.

The Elder watched them grow closer and her heart ached. She was aware that she was using her daughter to keep the Forest Father anchored here in this village to protect them. The Elder however had no intention of letting her daughter become clanless. To be banned from the village, taken from her life. Not even for the Forest Father. Not even for love. Oh no, love took many a fool, but it wouldn’t take her daughter. She let them play their parts, knowing nothing about this relationship could remain permanent.

She would break their oh so sweet bubble when the time came that she needed to. Or when the Forest Father was finally successful at driving the beasts back deep into the forest where they belonged.

The beasts were like large dogs. Their fur patchy and snarled in dirty clumps. Their snouts were large and twisted, with teeth as long and thick as fingers. Their limbs twisted in painful directions always making a crunching sound when they walked. The pain of movement never kept them from chasing down any fae caught out in the open. Their eyes were pitch black, like dark pools, soulless. They glowed red in the night when they hunted those dumb enough to be caught outside the safety of a cabin. Many were run down in the night by the monsters called Cuuls. The bodies were found the next morning usually by tearful family members a few feet from their homes. It was heartbreakingly tragic to watch. There was little time to mourn. It happened so often that the villages were clamoring to establish a new type of normal during these times of terror. The villages still had to run, or they’d all be clanless soon, left to live off the land. So they cried their tears and went about their days.

The Elders of the surrounding villages met one hot afternoon after Andrew came stalking quickly from the forest yet again dripping his blood onto the grass that grew rich with lush flowers from the amount of pure fae blood spilled onto it from him. He wore another scowl and the village knew it was another failed attempt.

The other Elders railed and ranted. Why was he not doing his job? Why was he not successful?

The mother of Willow Woman waited patiently and listened to them. She knew they were desperate for results. They were scared. They stunk of their fear. She always knew this bad of a infestation would take time to tear down. Even for the Forest Father. She knew most of all that they were jealous. Jealous that he had chosen HER village to protect. That the killings had paused as long as he was there while in their own, fae were run down on a daily basis.

They finally asked the question she was dreading.

Was the Forest Father the answer or was he a sham?

She quelled their fears only barely. The Elder knew it was only a matter of time before nothing she said would calm them. Then they would say the one thing that would break her and her daughter’s heart, though for very different reasons. Her’s because she knew the killings in her village would begin again. Her daughter’s because she had fallen so desperately hard for the Forest Father. It was one simple sentence she knew was on the tip of all of their tongues.

The Forest Father should be sent away.

OoOo

Her phone chirped and she practically jumped out of her skin. They were making their way up the sidewalk wondering the city aimlessly, both so unwilling to call it a night. It was getting late, way late, later than she should be out, risking getting caught. Her mind had been so caught up in their conversation. They came so easy. He asked questions, listened, responded thoughtfully, and was always honest when she asked one of her own. She loved the feel of this. It came so...easy. They’d known each other for thousands of years. They’d loved for a good portion of those. Until they were ripped apart from each other, they had been inseparable.

It all came flooding back now as they talked and talked.

Her feet were aching in her combat boots with the golden elephants embossed on the side, as they’d been talking for several hours as they walked.

When her phone chirped it popped that little bubble she’d allowed herself to get caught up in. With trembling hands she pulled her phone out of the pocket of her black, faux leather jacket and checked it.

He watched her with trepidation as she jumped at the sound of her phone and stared down at it like it had the ability to reach out and bite her with poisoned fangs. He remembered how she had practically ran out on him the last time this had happened when they were together. He waited. Waited for her to run off like Cinderella dropping one combat boot on the pavement as she danced her way back out of his life.

...Bates is gone on business for the next 2 days. Make the most of it. You know EXACTLY what I mean...

She couldn't believe the words she was reading. She couldn’t believe the stroke of luck. Madison had been terrified of seeing The Snake’s number asking her where she was, or worse telling her he already knew where she was. Instead it was her friend giving her the green light to have a night of freedom. Or rather morning of freedom. The hands of the large analog clock on the streetlamp hanging above them read 12:30 am. They’d talked well into the morning hours. She stuffed her phone back into her pocket.

“Trouble?” The lilt of his Irish accent was beautiful and it gave her chills. She missed Ireland. There was far more open lush green space there. Less of these iron cities, erected by the humans after the age of the fae had passed. It choked her sometimes to be around this much metal and she hated it. Her body had adapted enough that it didn’t poison her to breath in the exhaust fumes from the cars or to touch the metal buildings. Still, it didn’t feel like home. Beautiful and natural in so many places. She craved it. Something wild in her broke. She almost turned to him then and asked him point blank to take her back to Ireland. She knew if she asked he’d have her at the airport in a few moments. She also knew it wasn’t possible. Madison knew what Bates would do if she ran. She knew he’d hunt them down. She also knew he’d go back on their agreement in a moment. She’d given up on having freedom a long time ago.

She was unaware she had let her left hand hang down by her side slightly swaying as an easy silence stretched between them until she felt his soft hand take it tentatively.

He knew she had every right to jerk her hand out of his grasp. It would hurt if she did. He wouldn’t stop her though.

The feel of his hand in hers. Warm, soft, solid. It set her body alight again, just that light touch. Perhaps she had given up on freedom a long time ago, but that didn’t mean she couldn’t take one night to get a taste of it.

Without thinking, because if she thought about what she was going to do she would back out, she pushed him back against the brick building behind them. He looked surprised at first but a lopsided grin spread across his face. She grasped his shirt by the collar and pulled his face down to hers until she could press her lips firmly against his. The kiss was passionate but still tentative. She deepened it until they both became frenzied. He flipped their position so that he was pressing her back against the wall. He easily lifted her off the ground, wrapping his arms around her waist and pinning her against the wall. Her clit throbbed in rhythm to her heart as he pressed the fly of his jeans against the thin lace of her panties. He was definitely hard and his cock bulged against the fly of his jeans. She wrapped her legs around his waist and his fingers roamed up and down the bareness of her thighs where her dress had ridden up.

It was dangerous out here on the street. She let them kiss a little longer before breaking away from his lips with great difficulty.

“Are you going to do me out here on the street or do you have a place to go?” His grin was infectious and she smiled back. A true smile she hadn’t worn in ages.

Instead of letting her down he threw her over his shoulder in a full caveman carry. She laughed so loudly that it rang across the empty street.

He carried her like that all the way to his hotel.

OoOo

It all rested on the head of a pin.

Their fate was hanging in the balance.

She could scarcely survive their joining.

She would not survive their separation.

Winglessly winged loved hard.

Hated harder.

It was all of nothing with the fate of the fae.

They played with fire.

A willow tree of a woman.

A black thorn tree of a man.

Neither was man or woman but something of a completely different caliber.

They burned with a fever that could only be soothed with the feeling of lovemaking.

Then they would catch on fire.

The world would be set alight.

The cities would burn.

Then as the monsters once again descended.

The willow and black thorn tree would throw themselves upon the funeral pyre.

Such was the fate of the fae.

OoOo

#hozier #hozierfanfic #andrewhozierbyrne #urbanfantasy #smuthozier #fluffhozier #flufffanfic #smutfanfic #fanfic #fanfiction #eventualsmut #romance #fanfichozier

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vmheadquarters · 6 years ago

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We wish you a Happy Birthday, We wish you a Happy Birthday, We wish you a Happy Birthday filled with fanfic and cheer!

Happy Birthday @catefrankie!

And to kick-off our wish of fanfic for you, here’s the start of a Christmas tale written by our own @susanmichelin. Hope you enjoy!

Mars and the Real Meaning of Christmas

Thursday, December 20, 2007

“I need your help, Logan.” Already this felt wrong. It was supposed to be the other way around. It was ALWAYS the other way- HIM coming to HER for help. Find my mother, I was falsely accused of murder, locate my sister’s scumbag boyfriend, false murder rap (again), missing trust fund money. Logan was the one who needed HER.

“What is it, Veronica? I’m kinda busy.”

He leaned against the doorjamb, looking better than an ex-boyfriend had a right to look. Wasn’t it a law that all exes needed to get Santa-Claus-fat? Maybe even bald? They were NOT supposed to get buff. And they certainly were NOT supposed to come to the door wearing nothing but a pair of a shorts with water droplets sliding over their chest and down rock-hard abs.

Kinda busy. The words poked at her. Kinda busy doing... what? Or who? She gritted her teeth. Who Logan was doing was none of her business. “I need your help.”

“You said that already.”

Should she come right out and ask? Remind him of his promise, if you ever need anything. She bit her bottom lip. That was before Madison. Before Piz. Before they splintered each other’s hearts into tiny shards of sharp edges. Why did she think this was a good idea?

“Me” —he pointed to his chest— “Losing interest, fast.”

Bored, jackass-Logan. Veronica blinked. “Forget it; I shouldn’t have come here.” Turning on her heel, she stalked down the short driveway.

“Veronica, wait!”

Ignoring him, she made the left on the narrow street running behind his house and continued in the direction of her car. He caught up to her at the corner; his hand landing on her shoulder. “What’s wrong?”

She spun around to glare at him. Crossing her arms over her chest, she lifted her chin. “Why do you think something’s wrong?”

“My mistake.” He backed up a step. “You came to see me after months of not speaking to what… ask for help moving? No wait, you need a ride to the airport. Or did—”

“My father’s missing.”

“He’s an adult; I’m sure he’ll come home after he’s slept it off.” His gaze moved past her to a spot beyond her shoulder. “Ah, my company’s arrived.” A smirk spread across his face as he glanced at Veronica. “Weren’t you just leaving?”

One of those sharp pieces of her heart shifted, slicing her lungs and making it difficult to breathe. Without saying anything, she dropped her arms, and continued for her car. It was her fault for thinking… She shook her head.

There was no point in analyzing her FEELINGS. She was the one who’d told him it was going to take time and obviously he’d decided waiting around for her to forgive him wasn’t worth it - leaving Hearst while she was in Virginia and moving away from the Grand.

“Hey,” he called after her, but she refused to turn around. She didn’t want to see his face again and she DEFINITELY didn’t want to see his ‘company.’ Rooting through her purse, her fingers closed over her keys. Only a few more steps and she could drive out of his life forever. Logan stepped in front of her, blocking her path and foiling her plan. “Why do you think Keith is missing?”

Right. Her father. Missing. “Don’t worry about it; I’ll figure something out.”

She didn’t have a lot of rich friends. Okay, so she had exactly NO rich friends. Acquaintances? Eh, maybe. There was Dick —he was still floating around campus, presumably going to class— but the idea of letting him touch her was… nauseating.

Logan ducked his head to see her face; concern furrowing his brow. “Let’s start over. You can come inside and tell me about Keith and I’ll promise to dispense with the sarcasm.”

It was her turn to smirk. Logan without sarcasm was… her brain tried and failed to come up with an adequate analogy. What was that impossible? Unassisted human flight? Finding a unicorn in her dorm room? “I don’t want to interrupt your afternoon TRYST.”

“You always go there first. God, Veronica do you think about anything other than sex?” He arched his eyebrows and widened his eyes, faux-shocked. “I do have other interests.”

“Name one.”

He glanced over her shoulder again and held up a wait-one-minute index finger. And again, Veronica resisted the urge to look. An expansive grin spread across Logan’s face as he recognized the effort needed to thwart her curiosity. “Well...proper nutrition is important to me.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. INFURIATING. That was the word to describe him. Irritating, smug, and—

A shouted, “Hey!” from behind them interrupted her silent tirade. “Do you still want this, or what? I don’t have all day.”

She turned. A delivery guy in white t-shirt and red ball cap was holding an insulated warming bag, and glaring at Logan. I know how you feel, buddy. “Pizza? THAT’S your idea of nutritious?”

“Says the woman who eats ice cream for dinner.” Logan jogged toward the house. “Plus it’s from Bronx Pizza”—he called, over his shoulder—“extra cheese, pepperoni.”

Two of her weaknesses. Three, if you counted Logan himself, which she definitely DID NOT.

Veronica trailed behind the delivery guy, watched Logan pay him and carry the pizza inside, leaving the door open. It was invitation enough; she walked into the living room.

After seeing Logan live in the overly-decorated, tacky surroundings of his parent’s house, and then in the sterile, impersonal suite at the Grand, she wasn’t sure what to expect from a space designed by him, for him. The beach was a given, and it didn’t disappoint. The view was stunning. Large, folding glass doors were pushed open, accordion-style, creating a seamless flow from living space to deck.

“I’m going to take a quick shower before we eat and then you can tell me about Keith.” A wry grin. “Don’t make yourself at home.”

To hide her annoyance, she averted her face, and focused on the painting above the couch - a print of Hopper’s Rooms by the Sea. It was a metaphor for silence and solitude. But the other name for the painting—The Jumping Off Place—made her frown. It could be taken either way, as something dark, or hopeful. A final ending, or the point from which something is begun.

Veronica glanced back at the wood-and-glass spiral staircase, but Logan was already gone. Seconds later, the sound of running water said he’d started his shower. She relaxed, wandered across the sisal area rug to explore.

A blue-gray sofa with welted cushions and funky striped throw pillows stood under the Hopper. Club chairs in the same striped pattern were positioned for optimal viewing of the large flat-panel television, and instead of a coffee table, he had a cocktail ottoman printed with coastal beach signs - sand, sea, surf.

The kitchen was separated from the space by a large island and stools—no dining table—and Veronica opened and closed cabinets as she moved down the line. Bright, multi-colored Fiestaware, drinking glasses, pots, and pans - a fully stocked and functional kitchen. She peeked inside the filled-with-healthy-food refrigerator.

She shouldn’t be surprised. Logan had been taking care of himself, in one way or another, since childhood. It was just strange to see him ADULTING. It was hard to imagine him cooking and cleaning and paying bills. The only thing missing was any indication that Christmas was five days away.

Crossing the floor, she looked up the stairs as she passed—no sign of Logan—and moved to the wall behind them. Three custom bookshelves made of walnut and steel were crammed with a mix of hardcovers and paperbacks. Veronica perused the titles. The Count of Monte Cristo, Catcher in the Rye, The Call of the Wild.

She fingered the leaves of a nearby potted palm, wondered why he didn’t have a Christmas tree.

“It’s real,” Logan said, springing down the stairs. “So did I give you enough time to search all the drawers and cabinets, or should I go change again?”

Her cheeks warmed. “Haha.” For something to do, she pulled out one of the saddle-seat bar stools, and flipped open the pizza box. “What made you leave the Grand?”

Shrugging, he handed her a plate, took down two glasses, and poured them both soda. Instead of answering, he said, “Keith. Missing.”

He was right; this wasn’t a social call, but the reminder that they weren’t friends, still stung. Swallowing her sigh with a bite of pizza, Veronica watched him through lowered lashes. Leaning on the opposite counter, half-turned away from her, he was eating his pizza over the box top, and he looked just as good fully-clothed as he did when wet and in swim trunks.

Shaking off the thought, she asked, “Do you remember Deborah Daily?”

Logan’s grimace said he did. “Sure, who could forget the socialite of Debbie does Daddy Dearest fame?” He dropped his unfinished slice back in the box. “Is she still floating around Neptune? Pun intended.”

Deborah had lost her status as trophy wife when she was discovered in flagrante with the pool boy. “No, she’s living in Aspen now, working as an event planner...of sorts. Really she only works for one place - this very exclusive, luxury ski resort called The Glen?”

He nodded. “I’ve been there.”

Of course he had. “Anyway, they’re hosting this five-day Christmas event billed as a ‘traditional’ holiday getaway for couples only.” She finished her pizza and, without having to ask, Logan slid a fresh slice onto her plate. Veronica smiled her thanks, and he rolled his wrist for her to continue. Smile fading, she peeled the pepperoni away from the cheese. “Part of the festivities is a lavish Christmas Eve party, complete with a full orchestra, dancing, and a charity auction.”

“Oh the rich, whatever will they think of next!” Logan clapped his hands together. “Christmas shopping that’s also a tax write-off!”

She ignored his mocking. “Debbie’s been arranging the auction for months, collecting big-ticket items—Harry Winston jewelry, a classic Ferrari, private plane—you get the idea. And then, about two weeks ago, she started to get worried.”

“That her guests weren’t rich enough to afford such baubles?”

“Not quite. She began to suspect the charity was a fake. On paper it looks legit- an outreach program for troubled teens, but when she finally met the CEO...she had doubts.”

“And she hired Mars Investigations?”

“You don’t need to sound so surprised; my dad is very good at what he does.”

“Oh, I wasn’t disparaging the...efficacy that is Keith Mars; I’m asking, why not a firm in Colorado?”

“She didn’t want her boss to find out. If the charity’s a scam, not only will she lose her job, but she’ll be blacklisted. She remembered my dad from his investigation into...”

“Aaron’s stalker,” Logan finished her sentence. “And why should I care about Deb’s future job prospects?”

“I’m not asking you to help HER; I’m asking you to help ME.” Logan gave her a non-committal, hmm, and tapped his wrist like her time was running out. Veronica pushed away her plate, started to stand, changed her mind. She HATED needing him, but she did. “Dad went undercover as a member of the staff; he’s playing Santa Claus at the party, and—”

Logan smirked. “So in essence you’re investigating the case of the missing Santa?”

“I’m GLAD you’re finding this so amusing.”

Something in her tone, wiped the smirk from his face. “I’m sorry, Veronica; finish your story.”

“He checked in with me on Tuesday night, but I haven’t heard from him since.”

“That’s only two days”—Logan looked at the clock above the bookshelves—“Not even. Maybe he’s busy chasing down a lead or--”

“No, we had an arranged check in time; he would call me every night at six while the staff was eating dinner, and he missed last night’s call.”

“Maybe he couldn’t get a signal or his phone died?”

Veronica shook her head. “He has a SAT phone WITH a tracking feature AND global positioning. Even if he couldn’t call me, I’d be able to track his location, and I can’t. Someone disabled it, Logan.”

“Have you called the police?” She just stared at him, and he held out his hands. “What? That ‘waiting-period to file a missing person’s report’ thing is only a Hollywood myth.”

“I know, but I don’t have any proof of foul play, or even that he’s in trouble - other than my instincts, and they’re telling me something’s wrong.”

“And how exactly am I supposed to help you with this?”

“Did you miss the part about it being a COUPLES retreat? I need you to come with me, pretend to be my boy—”

“Husband,” Logan interrupted. “Your better half, the old ball and chain.”

Veronica rolled her eyes. “Fine, whatever; we leave first thing tomorrow morning.”

“Yes, dear.” Picking up his pizza, he folded it, and took a healthy bite. “See, we’re already playing our roles to perfection. You, the demanding, nagging wife, and me, the henpecked, lazy husband.” He wiped his mouth on his sleeve. “Just out of curiosity- what was your backup plan? You must’ve had one when you stormed off all indignant-like.”

“To find another bored rich 09er to go with me.” He raised an eyebrow, waited for her to elaborate. “I was going to ask Dick.”

He shook his head. “I don’t think even YOUR acting skills are that great.”

“Well, we’ll never know.” She slid off the stool. “Our flight leaves at six a.m. so I’ll pick you up at four.”

“Pretty sure of yourself there, Mars, making flight reservations in ADVANCE.” He tossed his pizza crust in the trash. “Going to ask Dick,” he scoffed under his breath.

“Just be ready when I get here.” She shouldered her purse. “We have a layover in Phoenix, but we’ll get to the resort in time for the welcome lunch at noon.”

“Layover? God, I hope it’s not COACH.”

#vmhq birthday club #veronica mars #vm fanfic #veronica mars fanfic #catefrankie

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