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princesscolumbia · 2 years ago

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Deviation - Chapter 8 - princesscolumbia - My Little Pony Generation 4: Equestria Girls (Cartoon 2013) [Archive of Our Own]

I continue to write fics that I want to see in the world, and they continue to wind up tackling pretty big issues and putting the characters through hell.

Yay! 😭

Short (yes, this is the short one) preview below the fold, follow the link above for the full chapter, alt link to the FiMFiction version after the preview:

Sunset had experienced many a morning after while serving as the Beloved Student of Princess Celestia, but it was never a welcome or pleasant thing. Verbal sparring while all the competitors were imbibing increasingly toxic levels of alcohol, getting into an argument with the princess (sometimes under their breaths, sometimes loud enough to be heard in Ponyville), then returning to her quarters angry and bitter did not make for a good following morning, no matter how gentle a hungover Celestia had tried to make it by raising the sun as slow as possible.

Waking up in a massive cuddle pile with her new pack-mates, however, was so wonderful, so revitalizing to her soul that she would gladly have dealt with every single one of her many and myriad Alpha traits just to enjoy a morning like this every so often. There were at least two sources of sleepy purring beside herself, and she couldn’t tell which Alpha or omega it was.

It hadn’t been without hiccups; partway through the night, she wasn’t exactly sure when, nearly the whole pack had been woken up by Rainbow Dash’s absolutely terrifying snore. A half-asleep Applejack curled around the omega, pinning her on her side so she couldn’t roll on her back and repeat the sound, followed by Fluttershy scooting in closer and wrapping her arms around both of the other girls. Rarity, Pinkie, and Sunset managed to nod off again after about a quarter-hour, Rainbow hadn’t woken for any of it.

As much as Sunset wanted to stay comfortably embedded in the warmth and comfort of her friend’s sleeping bodies, the demands of her bladder would not be denied now that her body was rousing properly. She began shifting limbs and Rarity rolled gently off the bed, the beta girl apparently also awake. They helped each other out of the bed and took turns using the en-suite bathroom before tiptoeing out of the room and closing the door quietly.

They made their way to the kitchen and found Celestia already pouring herself a cup of coffee. “Good morning, girls,” she said brightly, “Do you drink coffee, Rarity?” Celestia was already pouring Sunset a cup.

“Oh, that would be lovely, I am normally an absolute harridan before caffeine.”

Celestia chuckled, passing Sunset her mug and pulling another down in almost one smooth motion, “Luna is the same way, so we definitely keep plenty of coffee in the house. Milk or sugar?” she added as she poured.

“Yes, please, to both.” Rarity glanced curiously at Sunset, who was already sipping down her very much black coffee.

Sunset shrugged, “Lotta late nights preparing for finals at CSGU, I got used to taking it black ‘cause I was too impatient to trudge down to the palace kitchens for some milk. ‘sides, the royal chefs would have probably ambushed me and tried to make my coffee ‘gourmet’,” she intentionally mispronounced the Prench word as ‘goor-mett’, “And, frankly, I was too damn tired to wait 20 minutes for them to make me a damn cup of jo.” She took another pull at her coffee and stopped mid-sip, eyes shifting worriedly from Rarity over to Celestia. She swallowed and lowered her mug, “Ah…” She found herself at a loss, her brain catching up to the fact that she just revealed she’d spilled a pack secret against Celestia’s orders.

Celestia just grinned as she passed the requested beverage additives to Rarity, “This is as good a time as any to let you know the walls aren’t exactly soundproofed here. Luna and I could hear pretty much everything.”

Both Sunset and Rarity blushed, though the latter also tittered nervously. “Oh, um…I do hope…that is to say…”

Celestia smiled at the beta as she turned to the fridge, only barely paying attention to actions that were so habitual she performed them without conscious thought, “Don’t forget, I was the one who authored the bill in the National Alpha Council to destigmatize betas being full members of packs.”

Any response Rarity may have made was interrupted by Sunset nearly choking on her coffee. Celestia paused in her breakfast routine to make sure her daughter-in-all-but-name-and-saying-it-out-loud was okay. Rarity rubbed and lightly patted Sunset’s back with the hand not holding her mug.

Finally getting her physical reactions under control, Sunset put her mug down and wiped the back of her hand against her bottom lip to catch the little coffee that escaped while she coughed. “Two things,” she said croakily, “First, why would a beta not be allowed in a pack? Isn’t the whole job of an Alpha to guard the pack? If that doesn’t include betas it’d just be the few Alpha’s they get along with and their omegas…pretty small pack, really.” Celestia noticed Rarity start to practically glow at Sunset’s apparent shock regarding anti-beta prejudice but said nothing, knowing the girl would wave it off anyway. “Second,” Sunset continued, “And I say this having pretty much lived with your pony self nearly my whole life, you were in government?!”

Celestia noticed that Rarity seemed as caught off-guard as she was, “Why would that surprise you?” after the question, she finished fishing out her eggs from the fridge and grabbed a loaf of bread, carting them to the counter to make herself food. “Oh, and did you girls want anything? I’m mostly an eggs and toast girl, myself.”

“Oh, I wouldn’t want to impose…” tempered Rarity, “But I could go for a bagel, if you have one. If not, toast will do nicely, thank you.”

“Cel…goddess, I miss hay-bagels,” muttered Sunset under her breath. Celestia made a mental note to ask later what name the girl kept starting to say before switching to the more generic ‘goddess.’ “I’ll have eggs and toast, too. Oatmeal just doesn’t do it for me since I got here. …stupid predator’s body…” she groused, “And what I mean is this country doesn’t have a noble class, it was one of the first things I looked for when I found the library, I was trying to find out which family lines I needed to…ah,” she glanced sheepishly at Rarity, probably trying to guage how to explain her strategy of more or less schmoozing up to the right people to get what she wanted, “’Butter up’ to. How were you in the government if you aren’t appointed by a royal house or decree?”

“Oh, that’s…goodness, I hadn’t considered that.” Rarity trailed off and looked to Celestia with the request for help written all over her face.

Celestia happily broke out her metaphorical educator’s hat as she started preparing food for the three of them, “We actually were a collective of colonies of the crown before the War for Independence,” she began, “The first Colonial Alpha Counsel declared independence after the European powers kept trying to tax the colonies like crazy to fund their wars. There’s…a lot about that you won’t know about, it’s covered in 3rd-grade social studies, which you missed.” She winked at Sunset playfully as she set about cutting Rarity’s bagel for the toaster, “I’ll talk to Nagatha about some coursework to get you caught up on US history.”

Sunset’s head tilted in confusion at that, “’Yeoo-Ess,’” she said, somehow making two letters sound like a foreign word.

“Short for ‘United Sovereign Packlands, the U.S.P., or just ‘US’ for short.” Sunset gave a comprehending, silent ‘ah’ as she sipped her coffee. “The same group of Alphas who just bucked off a High Alpha didn’t want to submit to anyone else, either, plus the betas and omegas who fought alongside the Alphas didn’t want the old feudal system to continue, some of them had finally started building little business empires and they didn’t want an Alpha coming in to claim it, so they came up with a representative system. It’s full of compromises that have had to be amended over the last couple centuries and we have a long way to go before we get real equality, which is a partial answer to your question about betas. Historically, they’ve been marginalized due to Alphas constantly fighting over the top spots in a pack, even after nations got large enough that the old pack structure just started looking like tyranny. The Holocaust War was about betas trying to exterminate Alphas and omegas using eugenics and…other methods,” Sunset noticed Rarity grimacing at this, “Which only served to set back equal rights measures for betas by centuries.”

Sunset’s brow pinched together, “Oh…I get it. Back home we had a history of the pony races being very divided. Unicorns considered themselves superior so set things up so they’d be in charge and have all the power, the pegasi were basically a military state that liked to think they were better than any ground-bound pony, and the earth ponies got, well, kinda dumped on. The Hearth’s Warming story gets really dark the more you dig into it.”

“Hearth’s Warming?” interrupted Rarity, “What does the holiday have to do with how the races interacted?”

Sunset smiled, “I guess it would be pretty different here, since it’s not about the founding of the country…anyway, the three pony tribes used to fight all the time, but when you get down to it, the earth ponies were pretty much a slave class to the other two. They fled and then revolted when the unicorns and pegasi followed. If it weren’t for the windigoes giving them a reason to band together, they might have killed off pony-kind before Discord even got his chance a few years later.”

Celestia placed a plate in front of Sunset and Rarity, “That’s actually fairly similar to our own Hearth’s Warming origin; the Alphas, betas, and omegas were at war, then a plague hit and they had to stop fighting. A sage from each group each wound up contributing to find a cure.”

Sunset’s stomach growled at the sight of eggs and toast on her plate. As she grabbed the fork Celestia provided she chuckled, “I’m guessing the story is *very *romanticized?”

Celestia put her plate down on the breakfast bar and decided to eat standing up, “Just as I’m guessing ponies owning each other as slaves isn’t mentioned in a holiday play?”

Sunset saluted Celestia with her fork and popped a bite into her mouth. The principal took that as a cue to continue her impromptu civics lesson, “The representative system was intended to give everyone a voice and make sure nobody could abuse power, so three branches of government were set up and a document was drafted to outline the rights, liberties, freedoms, responsibilities, etcetera. The president is the Chief Executive…”

Sunset swallowed quickly, “Not ‘Alpha Supreme’ or something like that?”

Celestia chuckled, “Actually, Wheat Farmer wanted that title…”

Rarity gasped, “What?! A beta wanted to be called, ‘Alpha Supreme’?!”

The Pack Alpha chuckled, “Yes, there’s a lot that gets left out of the curriculum, there’s just so much history to cover and we’ve only got you as a student for just so long.” She sipped her own coffee and continued, “The president can pass or veto laws, but can’t propose any and can’t declare war. The Supreme Court was intended to be a court where packs could have final arbitration, but it became a balance to the president and congress and between the federal government and the packs.”

“The third branch of government is where things get a little tricky. It was originally just supposed to be a single governmental body where legislators gathered to propose new laws and do the managing of things, but the Alphas got a little nervous that they were being stripped of their traditional leadership role, so the congressional body was split between the National Alpha Counsel and the Parliament. Parliament is pretty much whoever gets elected by popular vote in their districts, and there’s a set number of people represented by each representative, so the size of Parliament can grow or shrink depending on the census.”

The three had eaten their food by this point, the two teens fidgeting with their mugs. Sunset was paying close attention, her voracious mind consuming the new knowledge as Rarity paid the attention of an interested student who’d heard it all before. Celestia took the last sip of her coffee, “Technically, all pack alphas are members of the Alpha Counsel, though that’s mostly on the state level.”

“Is a state like a province?” asked Sunset.

Celestia thought about this for a moment and nodded, “The first states were those original colonies I mentioned. Since they started out as colonies of different political powers in Europe, they all had different political affiliations and cultures and weren’t really interested in blending those, so they kept separate states, which have pack-lands that can cover counties or cities or even open wildlands. By the time the USP had been around for a century, the country had become a collective whole, even if there are enough differences from state to state that you can tell if you know the cultures of each state.”

She began stacking her dishes, which prompted the girls to do the same. As she took hers to the sink, she finished up her unexpected Saturday morning lecture, “Each Alpha takes a turn serving on their local Alpha Counsel, which elects an Alpha from their number to represent the local counsel on the state level, who then elects someone to represent the state on the federal level.” She took the plates from the girls as Sunset grabbed the coffee pot to refill her mug, and Rarity offered hers for a refill as well. She looked up to Celestia, who nodded and gestured to her mug with her head and shoulders on the counter, wordlessly confirming she wanted more, too. “Put on a new pot for Luna, please,” she said in quick aside. “A few years ago I finished up my time in the National Alpha Counsel.” Her face puckered in remembered frustration, “I don’t think I’d ever do that again. Your princess has my respect for running a federal-level shit-show. I can’t imagine having to do that day after day for…” she shuddered, “Centuries.”

Read the whole thing at FiMFiction.net or AO3.

#my little pony #fanfic #mlp eqg #mlpfim #sunset shimmer #omegaverse #a/b/o dynamics #principal celestia #vice principal luna #cranky doodle donkey #twilight velvet #shining armor

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lastfrontierheli22 · 2 years ago

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ozzybutweirdthistime · 2 years ago

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Group 4:

Ghost! MD: *screaming in mexican spanish*

Glatt: Ehhhh?

Ghost!MD:*more screaming*

Glatt: I am too hungover for this shit *starts cooking gourmet food*

plot twist: it's actually good

#asks #mcyt #mcytblr

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sitp-recs · 4 years ago

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My top ten twenty thirty favorite reads of 2020

Happy New Year! I’ve never read as much as I did in 2020 so yes, here’s another totally biased reclist catered to my very personal needs but hey, maybe I’ll find some taste twins around to celebrate with me🥂

Drarry:

1. 9 ½ Days by @magpiefngrl (Explicit, WIP)

Drarry on the run! I hopelessly crave good war fics and this has been an amazing ride so far. I love the tense, dangerous atmosphere and the organic slow burn feat. safe houses, domestic bliss and life-affirming fumbling in the dark.

2. A Pain of Our Choosing by @lqtraintracks (Explicit, 6k)

Peak LQT geniality under 10k, this is one of the best 8th year fics I’ve read recently, with soft broken boys healing together and hot fucked up smut as a bonus. Cathartic and nuanced with a lovely hopeful ending.

3. Between Myth and Men by @slytherco (Explicit, 16k)

A creative and contemplative fic that packs so much under 16k. Gorgeous redemption arc based on a brilliant Veritaserum concept with its implications and complications. Quietly devastating, soft, evocative, and it hurts so good. Get your tissues box ready!

4. Born Slippy by @dracoladon (Explicit, 8k)

The best clubbing fic ever. I have never read Drarry like this: their drunk voices are smooth, hilarious, quick-witted, and I wanna live inside the superior sexual tension. Excellent build up, even more excellent payoff with hot panty kink. Just thinking about it makes me salivate

5. Can’t Fight the Moonlight by sunsetmog (Mature, 16k)

Whenever you feel like reading Mpreg, this is THE fic. Absolutely heartbreaking but in a gentle way? I love these complex characters, the light-hearted dialogue and the way this story captures a disorienting but realistic mix of wonder and terror about parenthood (she says, without having ever experienced it 😂).

6. Clouds That Veil the Midnight Moon by @drarrytrash (Explicit, 36k)

The best case fic I’ve read this year, so fun and charming. I’m soft for the Drarry dynamics, the tentative slow burn, the easy banter, the gentle yearning. Kudos to a perfect Ron, great OCs and an intriguing plot. The atmosphere and characters are so addictive you’ll never want this fic to end.

7. Criminal by @the-sinking-ship (Explicit, 83k)

A rich and delightful ride with A+ character development and the sexiest slow burn, feat house hunting and drunk singing Take on Me. Get your heart ready to see a posh, snarky yet hopelessly smitten Draco transforming Harry’s lonely life into something colorful and full of hope. Gorgeous characterization and delicious smut as a bonus 👏🏻

8. Far From The Tree by aideomai (Explicit, 112k)

Showstopper fic. A power combo of unique plot and aideomai’s devastating writing, this fic is a triumph, and it aches so good. I’m still hungover over the gourmet world building, the fascinating love story and the sexiest teenage smut ever written - I’ll be forever thinking of this ride and all those stunning RoR scenes...

9. In the Dark by @bixgirl1 (Explicit, WIP)

There’s no fic like this one. I still remember my jaw dropping seeing the raw and depressing apocalyptic world Bix creates here - the tense and urgent atmosphere, the angsty comfort sex, the brilliant Hermione-Narcissa subplot! I’ve declared this fic one of my all-time faves since ch 1, I don’t care if it’s still in progress 🤷🏻‍♀️

10. Inside Your Mind by @lazywonderlvnd (Explicit, 36k)

A gorgeous and introspective 8th year love story following the post-war melancholy. This is not only an amazing character study on both Harry and Draco, it also explores nuanced D/s dynamics and shines light on Goyle’s character in a refreshing and heartfelt way.

11. Kinktober 2020 series by @bonesliketambourines (Explicit, 85k)

The ultimate gourmet selection of porn with feels, providing top notch wanking material fabulous character studies and nice twists on both popular and not-so-popular smut tropes. Hot, creative and satisfying new takes packing lots of backstory and emotion! All this written in one month, wtf 👏🏻

12. Life goes not backward by @shealwaysreads (Teen and Up, 9k)

Surprising no one I can’t worship my favorite comfort fic enough; this is the softest, gentlest take on the found family trope you’ll ever see, healing food for the heart and soul. Evocative writing and an unexpected yet wholesome ending full of warmth and hope.

13. Modern Love by @tackytigerfic (Explicit, 61k)

My favorite read this year, a master class in slow burn with Muggle Draco and a brilliant Harry POV full of heart and yearning, that will take your breath away. Come and feast on the softest pining and a wholesome get together (with religious smut, I kid you not!). A Tacky’s love letter to Drarry.

14. My Hands Are Of Your Colour by @ohdrarry (Explicit, 8k)

This fic was written for my (first ever) prompt for Sudsfest and it felt like the author gazed right into my soul. The dark atmosphere, the carefully crafted backstory, the cathartic and sensual comfort sex! This is a mature, elegant and evocative hitmen love story.

15. Nice Things by aideomai (Mature, 22k)

We’ve been blessed by aideomai in 2020. This poignant 8th year tale is one of my all-time favorite reads, quiet, bittersweet and so gently cathartic. Love to see everyone bonding and healing at the gatehouse, the soft domesticity and the aching and inevitable Drarry romance. A powerful story, a gorgeous love story.

16. Teeth by @amelior8or (Explicit, 6k)

I’ve reread this fic so many times and it never fails to take my breath away. So much emotion packed in just a few words! A delicious game of push and pull and scorching intense smut, with enthusiastic consent and gut-punching lines that go from rough to tender in a second and hit my heart real sweet.

17. The Courting by the Pureblood Who Only Has Five Milligrams of Romantic Intelligence and Thinks He’s Real Smooth by @cibeewastaken (Teen and Up, 19k)

This delightful courting story made my heart swell in a way I didn’t think was possible, with a precious devoted Draco gently pining over his oblivious “beloved”. The traditional ritual is so creative and full of heart I can’t even think about it without smiling. A perfect comfort fic, warm, hilarious and genuinely sweet.

18. The Thrill of the Chase Moves in Mysterious Ways by @veelawings (Explicit, 32k)

I am so utterly charmed by this incredibly fun, engaging and creative case fic - Noella did a fantastic job recreating Ms. Fisher’s 20s vibes and the Drarry dynamics are such a treat, sexy, snarky with delicious pining. Shout-out to the fabulous ass play in ch 2 as well 😳

19. (Un)wanted by @aibidil (Explicit, 36k)

One of the most interesting and heartbreaking portrayals of Harry’s generation post-war, an honest and melancholic story with a sensitive approach to Harry’s trauma. All characters are wonderfully complex and come together while exploring the Muggle world, which filled my heart with soft nostalgia.

20. Vortex by @xanthippe74 (Teen and Up, 20k)

My very favorite soulmate story, it gives Draco a wholesome redemption arc and a chance of finally being happy after finding his place in the post-war reality. The slow burn is organic, gentle and aching, with a super interesting subplot on social politics.

Other ships under the cut:

1. A Fine Foray into Fashionable Fellatio by @wellhalesbells (Draco/Ron, Explicit, 31k)

This fic is a triumph and simply the best Dron I’ve ever read, full of heart and character. Their voices and dynamics are unbelievably spot on and the slow burn is charming, witty, scorching hot and delightfully domestic! Brilliant fic. Do not read if you’re not ready to fall into this ship.

2. Beneath a Foreign Moon by @lqtraintracks (Harry/Teddy, Explicit, 2.7k)

A quiet and fascinating shortfic exploring the student/professor taboo alongside the age gap. I’m completely obsessed with this darker take on Harry, on how he unapologetically takes what Teddy so willingly gives. A brilliant study on power dynamics and delicious smut as per LQT’s usual brand.

3. Best Man by Farbautidottir (Harry/Scorpius, Explicit, 13k)

Such a charming fic, one of the most romantic takes I’ve seen on this pairing! I love the idea of Harry and Scorp falling in love while getting things ready for Albus’ big day. The slow burn is gentle and the wedding scene is so so great - it filled me with longing and nostalgia.

4. Black Forest by bigblackdog, @ruinsplume (Harry/Sirius/Remus, Explicit, 12k)

Once again they blow my mind with a luscious and devastating approach to this triad. Harry’s POV makes my heart ache - the sexual tension is exquisite and shows how far his childhood trauma goes, and how only Sirius and Remus can give him the comfort of feeling wanted and loved. Genius and breathtaking.

5. Hopelessly Devoted To You by @writcraft (Harry/George, Explicit, 10k)

I don’t usually see George in fic so this was the most wonderful treat! A gentle love story with them connecting over musicals, mourning Fred and finding each other along the way. I love how beautifully the dialogue flows and how comfortable they are with each other.

6. In My Mind, Body and Soul by tamlane (Lily Luna/Michael Corner, Explicit, 5k)

Despite loving age gap ships, I don’t think I’d ever read this ship if it wasn’t for the intriguing concept and fabulous writing. The characters dynamics are so gripping and the atmosphere is sensual, tense and unpredictable. Not even a kiss, yet this had me shaking in anticipation.

7. Pansy, Rows, and Mutual Wanking by @violetclarity (Pansy/Hermione, Explicit, 27k)

This was my first Pansmione fic ever, and it got me completely sold on this ship. A fantastic slow burn with brilliant character development and super hot smut. Hermione’s arc is one of the best I’ve ever seen, her self-discovery journey painfully earned and moving.

8. Rebel Rebel by @teacup-tai (Sirius/Remus, Explicit, 6k)

For someone who’s not particularly into this ship, Tai got me wrapped around her finger. Sirius’ POV is gorgeous and his journey back to Remus gave me major Little Compton Street feels (a major influence here). A magical and engaging read, full of joyful wonder for life.

9. testosterone (sounds like a spell) by pauraque (Hannah/Justin, Explicit, 8k)

I don’t think I’d ever read this ship if not by this author and I’m glad I did because this gave me goosebumps. Connecting with the characters was so easy - I fell in love with trans Justin, his journey and his lasting friendship with Hannah. Bonus points for the scorching hot yet delicate smut, honest and full of understanding.

10. Where Silence Has Come to Lick Its Wounds by @p1013 (Harry/Ron/Hermione, Explicit, 2.6k)

All hail the threesome queen @p1013. This fic blew up my mind and made me fall in love with this Triad. It has a gentle, intimate atmosphere and gives off the perfect “comfort sex” vibes, soft, safe and familiar. Absolutely stunning.

#2020 faves #happy new year!

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bovine-providence · 2 years ago

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Passion Hunt

Chapter 2: Hangover!

Planning after a night of drinking.

The next day you found yourself instantly regretting your existence upon awakening. As you peeled your eyes open, wincing even in the cool dimness of your room, you noticed your customary bottle of water on the nightstand. Grateful to your past self, you grabbed it to greedily take a few gulps before rising from your bed.

Approaching the kitchen, you heard a groan next to you. Looking over, you saw it was an equally hungover Dessa on the couch, in the process of waking up herself.

“Fuuuuck,” she whined.

“You’re telling me,” you mumbled, rubbing a hand across your eyes. Looking down at yourself, you noted that the only thing you had apparently removed from last night were your boots. Your clothes were crumpled and in dire need of laundering, if the stain on your shirt was any indication. Glancing at Dessa, she was in a similar state.

“Ugh,” your friend moaned as she slowly lifted herself up. Glancing around at her surroundings, she met your eyes. “Thanks for letting me crash on your couch.”

“It’s no problem,” you replied. “Here, let me get you some water, and both of us some painkillers.” Dessa nodded, settling into the couch.

After returning with the needed items, you sat next to your friend.

“I can’t believe how strong those drinks were,” she groaned, taking one of the painkillers.

“Yeah, well, those were pure alcohol. And stronger than Long Island Iced Teas,” you muttered. “They we’re good, but Jesus.”

“Yeah, let’s… not do that again,” Dessa chuckled. “That reminds me… we were talking expeditions last night too, right?”

“Yeah, I may have one coming up,” you responded. Dessa raised her eyebrows in interest.

“Wait, is this about that legendary beast you’ve been talking about? The black-horned tigerfrog?”

“Yeah, that’s the one,” you confirmed. She nodded thoughtfully beside you.

“Have you gotten anything substantial yet? Like leads or people to talk to?”

“Well, sorta,” you admitted. “While I was in the library, Morel Mackernasey stopped by. When I mentioned the Balsa Islands’ legends about the tigerfrog, he said he’s been there and maybe I could do some field research there. If I get the paperwork taken care of, he offered to sail me over.”

“That’s awesome!” Dessa agreed. “It sounds like you’ve gotten at least a good lead to start with, if you go there. Worst thing that happens, it becomes a vacation.”

“Yeah,” you laughed. “A rather time-consuming vacation, but maybe that’s what I need.”

“Hey,” the Gourmet Hunter nudged your arm. “Spending time on an island is usually considered a vacation. So make sure to relax a little while you’re there!”

“If I go there,” you reminded her. Chuckling, you glanced back at your friend. Noticing the apparent spill on her front, you changed the subject. “Say, when you head out, wanna borrow one of my shirts?”

Dessa looked down at her shirt, and groaned. “Could I please? I can wash it and give it back tomorrow or so.”

“Yeah, that works,” you reassured. Pulling yourself off the couch, you headed to your room to fetch something wearable for your friend.

>>>>

After Dessa had left, thanking you again for your generosity, you had quickly jumped into a relaxing hot shower and changed. Glancing in the mirror, you still looked a little haggard, but not as messed up as you had earlier in the morning.

For the day’s productivity, you decided to look over your notes and see what you needed to do to get funding for an expedition.

Pulling out your notebook, you studied the scribbles from the past few weeks. Altogether, it was mostly observations about legends and folklore of anything that could possibly resemble the black-horned tigerfrog. The stories varied very little between location, with minor details about horn style and mating calls. The leads you had were few and far between, with very few first-person accounts, and even of those reports, the most recent was from 60 years ago. You sighed. Maybe you were chasing ghosts.

But then your flipped to your notes from yesterday, and they gave you pause.

When Morel had joined you yesterday, he mentioned that he’d been to the Balsa Islands. He was familiar enough with the area, and had offered to take you there if you were able to get through the necessary paperwork. But due to the realized time crunch last night, you hadn’t written that part down. Thinking about it, this could be your most solid lead.

You would just need to talk to Morel about it. Simple enough, really. It’s just a colleague getting information from another, and maybe you can provide him something in return? Would this be a favor, or would you need to formally interview him? Fuck, was this enough information for a formal interview, or would just calling it a lead be enough?

You pulled yourself away from your notes and took a deep breath. Okay, [Y/N]. No need to spiral. Sure, you have a crush on the Sea Hunter, but you can maintain some semblance of professionalism while speaking with him on the matter.

You just need to call him.

#Hunter x Hunter #HxH #morel mackernasey #morel x reader #Passion Hunt

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troubatrain · 4 years ago

Text

better man - m. tkachuk

a/n: a repost from my old blog!

Matthew’s life was a mess. Well, you thought his life was a mess, he thought everything was just fine. You’d watch your friend, or mutual acquaintance if you were being honest, make poor decision after poor decision and you weren’t sure if you could take it anymore. When you’d first met Matthew, after Noah introduced the two of you at a team party, his antics were normal. He’d go out a little bit, but never the night before a game, and aside from the fact that he slept with every girl that walked into his life, things weren’t too bad. You bit your tongue about that one, knowing Matthew would just tease you for being jealous if you’d tried to say a thing about it. But, things were out of control now, it was the night before you knew the Flames had an afternoon game and Matthew was standing across from you at the bar, slamming back a shot with whoever his flavor of the week was.

“Just let it go, if he’s going to ruin his life, it’s not your place to stop him,” Your best friend, Madi, comments, “I’m serious Y/N.”

You watch the girl who’d been under Matthew’s arm slip away and head towards the bathroom, you turn to Madi, “This is the last time, I promise.”

While you didn’t actually consider Matthew your friend, mainly because you don’t think he thought much about you at all, you’d been in this position before. That time ended with Matthew hunched over you for an hour while you prayed to whatever higher power there was that he didn’t throw up in the back of an Uber. You walk over to the bar, a hand on his back while you leaned onto the bar next to him.

“What are you doing here?” Matthew asks, amused with running into you, “I thought you didn’t go places without your boyfriend who’s not your boyfriend.”

“Noah’s not my boyfriend,” You remind him, just like you always did when he accused you of liking Noah. In reality, Noah moved across the hall from you when he’d first got traded to Calgary, and while he’s moved out since, you were still close, “And you have a game tomorrow.”

“I know I do, I’m also a little busy right now,” Matthew smirks, a smug look on his face. His words were slurring together, and the bags under his eyes told you he hasn’t slept in days. Your heart broke, you didn’t understand why he was doing this to himself, the once lively sort of pain in the ass guy you’d met forever ago has turned into a shell of his old self.

“Matt, let me take you home,” You plead, your eyes boring into his, a pout present on your lips, “You need to be home.”

“I’m a grown ass man Y/N,” Matthew argues back, “I can do whatever, and whoever I want.”

“I will march into that bathroom and tell that girl that we’re dating and you’re a cheater, and then I’ll call Gio and tell him his winger is blacked out at a bar when he has an afternoon game tomorrow,” You threaten, hoping it’ll be enough to get him to go. Matthew’s eyes widen, “You wouldn’t call him.”

“I won’t if you go home,” You say, “I’ll pretend this never happened.”

Matthew sighs, closing his tab and calling himself an Uber. He slid off the barstool to head out, and his body hit the ground as soon as he stood up. You turn back to your friends, watching Madi shake her head at you, while you mouth that you were leaving to her.

“C’mon,” You say, grabbing his arm and tossing it over your shoulder. Matthew was a big body, and lugging him out of the bar was no easy feat, but you knew he was in better hands with you than anyone he’d been surrounding himself with lately. You get him into the Uber, sliding in next to him. You watch as the city passes you by, glancing over at Matthew to make sure you weren’t going to have a repeat of last time. His eyelids were starting to get heavy, and he leaned his head onto your shoulder.

“You’re too nice,” Matthew whispers, breaking the silence in the car, “Too nice.”

You smile to yourself, you knew you were too nice sometimes. You forgave too easily, and you definitely cared way too much about other people. But you couldn’t stand back while you watched Matthew continuously ruin his own life - it just wasn’t going to happen. The car finally halts in front of Matthew’s building, and you head inside with him. You were going to get him to bed, and you were going to slip down to Noah’s, who lived on the floor just underneath his, to crash in his guest room, that was the plan.

You’d never been in Matthew’s apartment before, but it certainly looked like a more barren version of Noah’s, despite the fact that Matthew lived in this building way longer. The furniture in it was the furniture that was staged in the apartment, and that you knew for a fact, and he was in desperate need of some curtains. You look around, not noticing one remnant of the fact that anyone actually lived here.

“I can get myself to bed,” Matthew huffs out behind you, finally slipping his shoe off, “Unless you want to join me.”

“I just wanted to be sure you were actually home,” You snark back, turning to look at him with an amused look on your face while he struggled to slip off his other shoe, “Are you sure you don’t need my help?”

“No mom, I got it,” Matthew chirps, tossing his shoes in the front of his door and stumbling into his bedroom. You heard a few drawers open and shut, followed by what you assumed was him brushing his teeth. You waited a few minutes, grabbing a water and some pain relievers to ease the hangover you knew he was going to have. You slip in, setting them on his nightstand.

“You should just stay here, it's late,” Matthew mutters into his pillow, causing you to jump.

You knew you should go down to stay with Noah, your key to his apartment was hanging on your keys as you stood there. But, you didn’t want to tell Noah what you just had to do, afraid it was going to become locker room talk that you were sure Matthew didn’t want to be a part of. He trusted you, at least enough to leave with the addition of your threat, and you couldn’t break that. So you nodded, stepping into Matthew’s guest room and opening the closet to pull out a pair of his shorts and a shirt - falling asleep almost immediately.

You woke up the next morning before the sun rose, slipping out of bed after your stomach started growling. You padded out of Matthew’s guest room, hoping he had some sort of groceries in his fridge. Your options were slim, but at least he had some eggs and a coffee maker. You get to work, pulling out a pan as quietly as you could, and brewing a pot of coffee for yourself. Your logical half of your brain screamed to just leave, slip out of his place before he woke up and you learned what kind of hungover monster he probably was, but you couldn’t help yourself. You just wanted to show him some kindness, hoping that could push him a better direction than the one he’d been flying full speed in.

“Are you making breakfast?” Matthew asks, causing your head to snap up from the eggs you’d been making. His curls were a mess, sticking out in all directions while he ran a hand through them as if that was going to help.

“I was hungry,” You admit, whispering because you were afraid to set him off, “I can go if you want-”

“No, stay,” Matthew waves you off, “I’m sorry I had like nothing in my fridge, I haven’t been the best about that.” You watch Matthew walk behind you, throwing open his fridge door and grabbing the orange juice from his fridge, smelling it to make sure it was still good, “I could teach you how to grocery shop you know.”

“I can handle myself Y/N,” Matthew rolls his eyes, crossing his arms and sitting on one of the stools in his kitchen, “Nice shirt by the way.”

You blush, looking down at the USA hockey shirt that hung on your frame. Matthew’s last name printed boldly on the back, you knew it was his, and it had been for a long time. It was soft and comfortable, and it looked like the coziest thing in his guest room closet the night before, “It was the only one in there.”

“I’m sure,” Matthew says, stealing a bite of the eggs you slid in front of him, “Oh these are good.”

“They’re eggs?” You say, confused as why he thought you made a gourmet meal out of the three ingredients he had in his entire apartment.

“I’ve used my stove once since I moved in here three seasons ago,” Matthew admits, shrugging and digging back into his food. You lean against the counter, putting your face in your hands. He was hopeless wasn’t he?

You bit your lip while you rode the elevator, skipping Noah’s floor and heading to the one right above it. You hoped he was home, prying the Flames current practice schedule out of Noah without him questioning it further. You walk up to Matthew’s door, knocking lightly. Hopefully he answered you, and hopefully he wasn’t doing anything too reckless this early in the day. Your mind starts to race, what if you were crossing a line?

“What are you doing here?” Matthew asks, confused as to why you were lost in your own thoughts in front of his apartment door, “Are you lost?”

“No, I just,” You start, trying to find words that sound better than Hey, I think your life is on a downward spiral and I think that I can stop you before things get too bad, “I’m going to teach you how to grocery shop.”

“I told you I can take care of myself,” Matthew reminds you.

“Is your fridge still as empty as it was the other day?” You ask, smirking when you saw his eyes shift. “Fine, I’ll go with you,” Matthew says, grabbing his hoodie that was hanging off his couch, stepping out and following you to your car, “I don’t know what kind of brownie points you’re getting for this, but it’s fucking annoying.”

You smile, you were still getting your way regardless of how annoyed Matthew was, “You came here willingly.”

“I was just hungry,” Matthew grumbles.

Grocery shopping with Matthew was an experience to say the least. He’d found a new way to pester you throughout the entire store. He complained about everything you told him to buy, reminding you that he didn’t even know how to cook. You responded quickly, telling him you could teach him easily. You weren’t a chef, but you had a few tricks up your sleeve that you were proud of. Matthew just teased you, telling you that you just wanted to spend more time with him. He poked your sides every time you tried to reach up and grab something, causing you to giggle while he gently nudged you out of the way to grab it himself. He called you mom in the store with every chance he got, the elderly couple across from you giving you an odd look as to why he was acting like a grumpy teenager. You were straight up exhausted by the time you were done, leaning against the counter in Matthew’s apartment while you watched him put away all of the groceries he’d bought against his will.

“So when are you going to teach me how to cook half this shit?” Matthew asks.

“I can show you now?” You ask, wondering if maybe he had plans that didn’t include for the evening. You saw him debate it internally for a moment, looking down at his phone and typing out a message before he nodded at you.

You started with something simple with him, salmon and some veggies, it was healthy and easy enough for him to cook on his own without you. Matthew was a little chaotic at first, unable to stand still while you tried to show him how to cut the lemon you were using to add to the Salmon. But you worked at it, calming him down enough to watch him searing the fish in his pan, his tongue sticking out of his mouth a little bit.

“Am I doing this right?” Matthew asks, and you peer over his shoulder, nodding when you inspect his work, “So, do you do this with Noah or am I your only project?”

“Noah knows how to cook for himself and stay in when he has to play the next day,” You remind Matthew, “So yes, you’re my only project.”

“Why aren’t you dating him? I mean you, spend enough time at his place and you’re always together,” Matthew pries, but it couldn’t be further from the truth. You didn’t actually spend all of your time with Noah, but Matthew only ever saw you when you were with him.

“He hooked up with my friend Madi,” You explain, the exact reason why Noah was a no go zone for you, “And then he stopped talking to her.”

It was true. When you’d been neighbors you introduced the two, hoping they’d end up together like you wanted. It worked out at first, noticing that they both had chemistry but then Noah didn’t call her after they hooked up and Madi was devastated over it. The pair had talked it out a few months ago, but that still didn’t mean you were going to date Noah like everyone assumed you were.

“Dick move,” Matthew mutters under his breath, “I mean I’m not better but-”

“I’d honestly prefer to never talk about it again,” You shake your head, tensing up at the thought of the year you had two of your favorite people at war with the other, “That’s done.”

“I can’t believe you’re domesticating me,” Matthew chirps, sitting across from you on his couch because he lacked a dining room table, “This is pretty damn good though, compliments to the chef.”

You roll your eyes at his smugness, “Some girl is going to be very lucky after I’m done with you.”

“So I am your new project?”

Phase two of Matthew’s transformation was that you were going to help him make it seem like someone actually lived in his apartment. You’d walked into his apartment with some plans, mostly a firm belief that it wouldn’t kill to own a throw pillow but you didn’t know what kind of monster you were actually dealing with. Apparently, Matthew’s time at home was spent watching an unhealthy amount of HGTV with his mother and he knew more about home decor than you initially thought. Shopping was actually fun, until you mentioned that you really thought he should get a dining table, reminding him of the empty space in his place that needed it, and now you were bickering in the middle of a furniture store.

“I don’t like have people over for dinner parties Y/N,” Matthew argues, his voice growing louder, and you could feel how tense the poor person who was showing you around the store was.

“What about when your parents are in town?” You ask, “I’m sure your mom would appreciate it.”

“In my experience, your girlfriend is probably right,” The man standing next to you squeaks out and you both turn to him at the same time.

“We’re not dating!” You both yell out in unison, reminding this man for the third time that there was nothing going on between the two of you.

“Just get the table,” You huff, tired of embarrassing yourself in public. You pout, mustering up your cutest face, desperate times call for desperate measures.

Matthew closes his eyes and throws his head back, “I’ll get the table.”

You clap silently to yourself, watching as Matthew scheduled a delivery for the table. You really didn’t think pouting would work, especially because Matthew can be exceptionally stubborn when he wanted to, but you were happy he did.

“I can’t believe you convinced me to buy that table,” Matthew says, leaning over to look at you while you drove back to his place, “Not cool to bring my mom into this, but you were right, she’s going to love it.”

“You’ve lived here for almost four years, your place needed some work,” You say, you wanted to tell he needed a home but you knew the teasing that ensue so you bit your tongue.

“You’re going to like, help me with this right?” Matthew asks, pointing to the things you’d bought in the back of his car, you nod. Silently making a mental note to cancel your dinner plans with Madi, you knew she was going to be mad, especially because your reason was because you thought you could guide Matthew into being a better person. But you wanted to spend time with him, because despite how much of a grouch he was, he wasn’t all bad.

Sometimes you thought Matthew was invincible. You thought nothing could hurt him, especially after sitting close enough to the glass and hearing just how hard he’d taken a hit. But it turns out, a bookshelf was going to be what took him down. It’d been hours since you got back to his apartment, and while you set out some of the other things you’d bought, Matthew insisted he could put together the bookshelf. You leaned against his couch, watching him struggle in the middle of the floor.

“Matthew let me just-” You try and interject, yet again, and offer your help.

“I can do it,” Matthew says, “I just keep losing pieces.”

Matthew’s demeanor was frantic, he had nails and pieces of the bookshelf scattered around him while he read the directions for the hundredth time. You squat next to him, placing your hand on his back and rubbing up and down. You can feel how tense his back was, and how he was calming down under your touch, “How about you order us some food, and I just finish this real quick?”

Matthew lets out a breath, “Why are you so much better than me at everything?”

“I don’t even know how to skate so,” You shrug, there was one thing he definitely had on you.

“I’d teach you, but you’ll find a way to outshine me and we can’t have that,” Matthew jokes, standing up to go get his phone from another room and call and order you food. By the time he came back, you had half the shelf built already. He rolls his eyes, jumping on his couch and picking a movie on Netflix - telling you that was the only other thing he was better than you at.

You sat in the stands with Madi at the Saddledome, cringing as you watched Matthew skate to the penalty box for the third time that evening.

“What the fuck is he doing out there?” Madi asks, “Collect your man Y/N.”

You were too confused to go into defense mode on how Matthew wasn’t yours. He wasn’t. But you spent all of your time together when he was in the city, so you knew he wasn’t someone else’s either. You shake your head, your eyes moving to the penalty while you watch Matthew break his stick against the boards. The Flames were down 4-0 and it just seemed like everything wasn’t going in their favor. With three penalties under his belt, and two of those goals scored against them on the power play you understood why he was so mad but you didn’t understand why he’d kept retaliating against whoever was trying to get under his skin.

When the third period ended, you felt your phone vibrate while you were heading back out to your car. A text from Matthew appearing on the screen.

Come over?

You hear Madi scoff behind you, “If you go you’re never going back and I promise you that.”

“We’re friends,” You argue back, a little annoyed with your best friend's constant disdain for anyone that went near you.

“He’s going to do to you what he's done to countless other girls,” Madi retorts back, “Just like Noah did to me, they’re all the same.”

You roll your eyes, “Then I’ll worry about it when he hurts me.”

You stomped over to your car, leaving Madi to go to hers alone. You take a deep breath, pulling out of the lot and into the direction of Matthew’s apartment. You could feel tears welling up in your eyes while you thought about Madi’s words. You weren’t anything more than friends with Matthew but if he walked out of your life today you weren’t sure if you could recover as quickly as you thought. You slip in Matthew’s building unnoticed, sitting outside of his apartment door and allowing yourself to have a quick cry before you heard the elevator ding, signifying that he was home.

“I’ve got to give a key,” Matthew grumbles, “My neighbors probably think you’re stalking- are you crying?”

“I’m fine,” You rush out, standing up and wiping your eyes, “It’s fine.”

Matthew sighs, his eyes going soft, “Come inside.”

Matthew’s hand landed on your lower back, guiding you into his place. You take notice that he’d moved a few of the things you scattered around his place, making them his own. You also took notice of the neatly folded laundry on his table, meaning he actually did his own laundry instead of taking everything to the cleaners. You watch Matthew stomp around his apartment, still in a mood from his game, and while you were upset you knew calming him down was the first thing you had to do.

“Matty,” You whisper, a nickname you’d taken a liking to, mostly because while he claimed he couldn’t stand it, he never stopped you from saying it, “What can I do?”

“I don’t know,” Matthew shrugs, leaning against his couch, “Usually I’d go out after a game that bad, but then I could hear your reprimand me in my head.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” You suggest, a small smile at his confession, you were getting through to him.

“Do you want to talk about why you were sitting in my hallway crying?” Matthew says, raising his eyebrows at you.

“You first,” You push, hoping you could pry it out of him.

“I’d really rather not relive the fact that I’m the sole reason that we lost that badly tonight,” Matthew mutters, “I’m going to have to watch it all over again tomorrow anyways.”

“It’s a team sport,” You remind him, even though you were there, the Flames may have lost but you know it wouldn’t have been by a four goal deficit if he could stay out of the box, “It wasn’t-”

“You were there, and you’re a terrible liar,” Matthew interrupts, a look on his face that you told you to just admit it, it was his fault.

“I’m not going to pile onto the guilt you’re feeling,” You say, crossing your arms over your chest.

“Fine, tell me what’s up with you then,” Matthew says, nodding at you, waiting for an explanation.

“I got into it with Madi, it’s fine,” You brush off, you really didn’t want to admit to Matthew that he was the reason you’d been getting into it with her a lot lately.

“You said no secrets the other day,” Matthew reminds you, opening his arms for you to step into him, “That goes both ways.”

“Let me keep this one,” You say, wrapping your arms around his waist, “Please.”

“Just this once.”

Matthew’s family were some of the loveliest people you’d ever met in your life, and it was honestly shocking to you that his parents raised such a pest. Especially now, watching Matthew move around his kitchen while you sat on his couch with his brother who was in town along with his parents and his sister. You’d declined his invitation for dinner at first, not really sure if there was a line that you were crossing having dinner with his family, the whole thing just felt so domestic to you.

“So did you just switch his brain with someone who’s nicer?” Brady asks, pressing you about what you did with this brother, “Or is it like a clone situation?”

“Brady leave her alone,” You hear Matthew call out from his kitchen, showing off to his parents the new cooking skills he’d acquired over the past month.

You laugh, taking a sip of your wine, whispering to Brady, “It was a brain switch.”

Brady nods, whispering back, “I knew it.”

Watching Matthew with his family definitely wasn’t helping the feelings you’d been harboring. You thought it was a small crush, that was probably because you spent most of your time with him, but it’d been snowballing into more as of late. You watched him talk to his sister and about his sister like she was the most important person in the world, and you think to him she probably is. You heard how soft his voice would go when his mother called out to him or how hard he laughed when his dad cracked a joke. This was the Matthew you knew was shoved under a million layers of angst.

“I can’t believe you actually taught him how to cook,” Chantal muses, smiling at you gently, “I’d never been able to stop him from making a mess, even when he was a kid.”

“Mom,” Matthew protests, trying to stop her from embarrassing him with stories from his childhood, “She doesn’t need to know how bad I was as a kid.”

“I think she can figure it out for herself,” Brady calls out, holding his hand for a high five to you. You slap your hand against his, laughing when you see Matthew pout next to you.

“You’re supposed to be on my side,” Matthew protests, “No loyalty around here.”

“I am on your side,” You remind him, your hand squeezing his thigh under the table. He smiles, grabbing your hand and intertwining your fingers with his. The gesture was so small, but the electricity you felt through your body was unmatched. Matthew’s hand didn’t leave yours for the entire night - until he’d gotten so mad at Brady for “cheating” at the board game you’d all decided to play that he stomped away leaving you alone with his parents.

“Should we do something about that?” Brady asks, trying to read the room.

“Yes go apologize to your brother,” Keith sighs, as if this was something that happened often. You couldn’t be surprised, in a family that athletic there was no way that they weren’t a little competitive.

You watch Brady walk out of the room to go say he was sorry to Matthew and you feel Chantal’s hand on your arm.

“I know my son isn’t good with his own feelings,” She starts, her voice as warm and kind as it could be, “Just don’t give up on him.”

You smile, nodding, “I won’t.”

When Matthew woke you up on a Saturday morning with a heavy knock on your door, you were worried. You didn’t even know what he could have done in the ten hours since you’d last seen him but he didn’t always do the right thing - so naturally you panicked.

“Are you okay?” You ask, throwing your door open and forgetting the fact that you were still in the shorts and t-shirt you were sleeping in.

“Nice fit,” Matthew smirks, his eyes scanning up your body and you realized you’d been wearing the same shirt you stole from the first night you stayed over at his place, “I’m never getting that shirt back am I?”

“No it’s way too comfortable,” You say, because it was, “What are you doing here?”

“I’m teaching you how to skate,” Matthew smiles, proud of himself for the idea.

“I thought we couldn’t have me outshining you?” You ask, throwing his own words back at him.

“I want you to come to our Christmas skate but I don’t want you to embarrass yourself in front of that many other people,” Matthew shrugs, “Please?”

Matthew knew you couldn’t resist his stupid pouty face as much as he couldn’t resist yours. You were eachother greatest weakness and that’s just how it was. You nod, telling him you needed to change before you headed out to wherever he was going to take you.

You didn’t expect much, and when Matthew started to head in a direction opposite of any ice rinks you were severely confused. You pulled up to a park, a large pond that had frozen over ahead of you. You step out, watching Matthew pull two pairs of skates and hockey sticks out of his trunk.

“How did you-?” You start to ask how he even knew what size skate to get you.

“I asked Noah,” Matthew shrugs, “Apparently he knows more about you than you think.”

You laugh, the text that Noah sent you about Matthew being soft as hell making way more sense now than it did the other day. You follow Matthew to a bench, watching as he bent down to tie your skates for you, “You’re not going to let me get hurt right?”

The question was simple, but the glimmer in his eye when he told you nothing would happen to you told you that he meant more than just the skating. Your hands were in his while he skated backwards, pulling you around the ice.

“You know a month ago I probably would have let you fall on your ass,” Matthew comments when your skates started to slip underneath you, “But you’ve really turned me into a better person.”

“If only I could get you to stop getting into scrums,” You tease, even though you secretly loved to watch him defend his teammates the way he did. He always justified it to you after a game, telling you if he didn’t do it, someone would bully Johnny and he couldn’t let that happen. It was part of his game, and it was the way he liked to play.

“I told you,” Matthew says, dragging out his words, “I need to do it. Stay here.”

Matthew skated to the end of the pond, grabbing two sticks and two pairs of gloves for the both you, tossing them to you. You looked ridiculous, in hockey gloves that were four sizes too big and a stick that wasn’t cut to your height.

“Wait stay like that,” Matthew pulls out his phone, snapping a picture while you stood in the standard peewee hockey pose, laughing to himself while you assumed he sent it to Noah, but when you opened your phone you say a tag from Matthew’s instagram story and you knew he posted it for the world to see.

“Matty!” You call out, about to reprimand him for posting it while your phone continued to vibrate with follow requests.

“What? You look so cute right now,” Matthew says, while you started to charge at him, forgetting he hadn’t taught you how to stop yet. You skate right into his chest, unable to knock him on the ground like you’d intended, “Easy there killer, you don’t get to start fighting with people until you learn how to stop first.”

“You’re a bully,” You mutter, crossing your arms at him.

“You love it,” Matthew teases back, but in reality, you think you actually did.

Matthew didn’t owe you an explanation for anything he did, and you knew that. But with him gone on the East Coast for almost two weeks, you were grateful for his daily check ins and silly snapchats. It made you smile, to see he was in bed watching a movie instead of out partying like you knew his teammates were definitely doing. You were internally counting down the days until he’d back, trying to pull off a little surprise for him in the meantime.

You sat in his apartment, using the key he’d given to you before he left, with a bunch of empty picture frames you bought a few days ago, a package from St. Louis right to them. After you had dinner with his parents you’d talked to his mom once a week. Mostly for her to tell you thank you for forcing him to call her more often, but other times it was just to gossip.

But you’d asked a few weeks ago for some pictures to hang up around his place, realizing he didn’t have one picture of his family anywhere in his place. His mother sent over every family photo she had a copy of, slipping in a few photos of Matthew as a toddler that made your heart melt in a puddle. You smile pulling a photo of the Tkachuk siblings together, Matthew probably showing off the loss of his two front teeth. You learned from his father during that dinner, that Matthew didn’t actually lose his two front teeth, instead they were knocked out by his younger brother before they had the chance to fall out.

You set the last photo on the bookshelf that you put together, tilting it so it leaned against the others in a perfect way. You heard the knob of his front door turn, revealing a very sleepy Matthew in front of you.

“I thought I saw your car,” Matthew smiles, dropping his bag to the floor, “What are you doing here?”

“Notice anything different?” You ask, gesturing around his place, his head turns to scan the room, a growing smile on his face. The kind of smile where his dimples were on full display, one you noticed he reserved for his family and for you.

“How did you get these?” Matthew says, picking up a picture that you picked out of him and his siblings at one of his father’s All Star games.

“I asked your mom for them,” You shrug.

“How often do you talk to my mom?” Matthew asks.

“Once, twice a week,” You mutter out, like your calls with his mother had been your little secret.

Matthew laughs to himself, muttering something under his breath you couldn’t quite make out, “Thank you.”

“I’m confident you’d do the same for me,” You say, because at this point you were sure he was at least 50% less selfish than he used to be.

“I’d do anything for you,” Matthew says, looking over at you to gauge your reaction. Chantal’s words about how terrible her son was with his own emotions running through your head.

“Hey Matty,” You say, trying to get his attention while he walked away to change out of the suit he’d been wearing on the plane, “You said no secrets right?”

“I believe that was our agreement,” Matthew smiles, turning around to look at you.

“I love you,” You say, you couldn’t take it anymore, you just needed to let it out. Matthew stood there, his eyes moving to everything in the room besides you, for the first time in his life, he was silent, “Oh my god this is embar-”

Matthew took three long steps over to you, placing both of his hands on your cheeks before he took a deep breath, “I needed you to say it first.”

You smile, connecting your lips with his,

“You’re going to say it back right?”

And in his apartment that you’d turned into a home, Matthew stood in his living room, pecking your lips while he repeated the three sweetest words to you.

“I love you”

#matthew tkachuk imagine #matthew tkachuk #my writing #nhl imagine #nhl imagines

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snelbz · 4 years ago

Text

The Ranch {19}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @snelbz x @tacmc

Summary: Nesta had spent years in Paris, living her dream and drowning in riches as a gourmet chef, capturing the hearts of the city and its people. But, after her father passes away unexpectedly and leaves his cozy, countryside B&B to his oldest daughter, Nesta is moving back home to the tiny town of Velaris, where the ranch, her sisters, and her father’s unfulfilled dream, awaits.

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

Nesta stood in the paint department and looked at the wall of samples in front of her. She wanted something light, but something that stood out, too. She didn’t want anything like her father had chosen back in the nineties and-.

She shook her head, trying to free her head of the deja vu that washed over her and chuckling quietly. She had been here before, had done this before. Things were just...a little different this time.

As if she wanted to remind her mother of this fact, Nesta felt a sharp pain against her ribs and she inhaled sharply through her teeth. Beau looked up at her, brown eyes wide. He hadn’t left her side since the beginning of her third trimester and Nesta had learned to love the constant, comforting presence.

“Your sister is using my ribs as a punching bag,” she told him, regardless of the fact that he couldn’t understand her. He opened his mouth in what Nesta swore was a smile and his tongue hung to the side.

He always smiled when they talked about the baby.

Nesta was floored as she realized how different her life had become in twelve months. A year ago, she’d been deciding whether or not she should give up everything she’d ever wanted, to move home and run her father’s crumbling dream of a bed and breakfast. Now she was about to have a baby, her perfect, little girl, and she was going to marry the man of her dreams, the man who gave her the gift she never thought possible.

“Nesta?”

She froze, recalling how someone had called her name the last time she’d been here, who it had been when she turned. But it wasn’t Tomas, just Azriel standing in his old, torn jeans and black hoodie. Out of all of them, it was Azriel who looked the least the part of a rancher, but he sure as hell knew what he was doing.

“Cass said you were running into town, but this was the last place I thought I’d see you,” Azriel said, when Nesta said nothing.

Nesta, collecting her thoughts, gestured to the wall of paint samples. “Nursery color.”

“Ah,” Azriel said, huffing a laugh as he stopped next to her and looked at the wall. Beau brushed up against his leg, and he gave the pup a loving scratch behind the ears. “What about purple?”

Nesta frowned, looking at the endless samples of purple. She had gone over the lavender hues ten times already. “Too predictable. Pink, too. I’ve ruled them both out.”

Azriel chuckled. “Fair enough. Cass wants to paint it green.”

Nesta rolled her eyes. She had to admit that she had her eye on a neutral olive color, but it didn’t seem right, it wasn't special enough. “So I’ve been told. I told him no, though.”

It was true. In fact, the night before they’d had a heated debate over what color the nursery would be. It ended in them making love on the nursery’s carpet, but that was irrelevant.

“How about blue?” Azriel suggested, picking up a few different swatches. “There are a ton of different shades of blue, surely there’s one you two can agree on.”

It was her favorite color, but it limited her decorating choices. Both the camouflage and rodeo nursery ideas were nixed last night as well, and Cassian was still pouting about it.

“I’ve been leaning towards a softer yellow or orange.” She lifted a buttery yellow card from its slot. It was too bright, too rich. She added it to the stack, knowing it may look different away from the fluorescent lights. “Like the sunrise. First light.”

Azriel was nodding. “Why don’t you ask Feyre to paint the sunrise?”

Nesta was going to blame her stupidity on pregnancy brain as her eyes went wide and she said, “I hadn’t even thought of that. She’d love that.”

Azriel just smiled, softly. “Feyre would be honored, if you asked her.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, then picked out a couple different shades of yellows and oranges. “Since you’re here, please take me to get some tacos. I’ll buy. Might even bring some home to Cass, if he’s been good this morning.” Azriel’s grin widened as they began walking toward the exit. “A little cranky, I must say, but I think that’s just because he’s hungover.”

Nesta snorted. After their fight over paints, he’d indulged himself - one beer too many, perhaps. “It doesn’t take much to be hungover when you wake up at five a.m.”

“True,” Azriel agreed. “I could do tacos, though.”

“Good,” Nesta said, putting the paint swatches into her purse as she and Azriel walked out onto the sidewalk, Beau close behind.

It wasn’t until they were down the street at a taco vendor’s food truck that Nesta asked, “So, when the hell are you going to ask my sister to marry you?”

The bite he’d been in the process of taking nearly came back out. Nesta didn’t even flinch. She’d spent so much time throwing up in the past eight months that partially chewed food didn’t even phase her. She blinked and waited for him to collect himself before he took a drink of the Corona in his hand.

“You just go straight for the balls, don’t you?” He laughed.

She raised her eyebrows. “Have you met my fiancé?”

“Fair enough,” he laughed, but he sighed. “You want the honest truth?”

Nesta suddenly realized she wasn’t sure. She was meddling and the only person who hated meddling more than she did was Elain. But she nodded.

Az took a deep breath and said, “I’ve had the ring for almost six months.”

“What?” Nesta’s eyes must have nearly bulged out of her head, because Az backed up a step. “And why exactly haven’t you proposed?”

His smile was soft but proud, as he said, “I don’t want to take this time from you, or from Cassian. You’re having a baby. Like, Nesta, you’re growing a literal human inside of yourself.” He chuckled and smiled fondly. “Did you know that even when we were in high school all Cass wanted from life was to rope and have a family. You’re giving him one of those things and I can’t ever thank you for making my brother so happy. And I don’t want to take that spotlight from y’all. I want you to have your moment, so that when the time comes, Elain can have hers.”

Nesta hated Azriel for making her cry over her taco, and yet, tears were sliding down her cheeks as she set her taco back down onto her plate and observed him. Eventually, she cleared her throat and said, “Elain is a lucky woman.”

Azriel just shook his head as he took another bite. “That woman deserves the world. If anyone’s lucky, it’s me.”

Nesta found herself completely overwhelmed. A year ago, she hadn’t believed love existed, but now? Her and Cassian, Elain and Azriel, Feyre and Rhysand...this type of love was rare, Nesta was sure of it, but somehow they all ended up in a fairytale romance. Her sisters were happy, she was happy...it was perfect.

“Don’t tell your sister that I made you cry,” Azriel went on, shoving the last of his taco into his mouth. “She’ll kick my ass. She’s scary when she wants to be.”

She shook her head, dabbing at her eyes with a scratchy napkin. “She’ll understand when you knock her up. I cried yesterday during a Christmas commercial.” Azriel waited, knowing that was somewhat common. “A commercial for cattle feed.”

He nodded. “I believe you. Doesn’t change the fact that your sister will punch me in the dick if she finds out I was the cause of your tears.”

They both laughed and Nesta smiled. “Thank you for making her so happy.”

Az gave her that full smile that so many rarely saw. “It’s my pleasure.”

Nesta finished her tacos and ordered some for Cassian for the road. “Word of advice,” she said, getting into her car. Beau already patiently sat in the passenger seat. “Don’t ask her on a holiday. Girls don’t want to share their special day.”

Azriel’s eyebrows raised. “I...hadn’t thought of that.”

Nesta chuckled. “You were going to propose on New Years, weren’t you?”

He nodded once. “Yes, I was.”

She laughed, full and bright, and said, “How about this? You tell me when it’s time, I’ll plan a family dinner and voila, you’ve got yourself a fiancée.”

“Really?” Azriel asked, stopping in front of the driver’s side of the truck’s door.

“Of course,” Nesta said, crossing her arms, the bag of Cassian’s food hanging on her arm.

“Thank you,” he said, and she knew by the look in his eyes that he meant it.

Although they were going to the same place, they said their goodbyes and Nesta drove home, slowly. By the time she made it back home to the ranch with her paint swatches, Cassian was mowing the lawn. He was shirtless, of course, and was chugging a bottle of water as he rode the lawn mower across the grass. As Nesta pulled into the driveway, he was waving and putting it in park.

He was covered in sweat, but Nesta still didn’t stop him as he pressed his lips to the side of her head. “The grass was long.”

Nesta nodded. She had wanted to ask him to mow, considering she was too pregnant to do so, but hadn’t wanted to interrupt his daily plans. “I brought you tacos.”

“Mmm, that’s exactly why I’m marrying you,” he said, pulling her onto his sweaty lap and opening the box in her hands.

She squirmed out of his arms, as best as she could at eight and a half months pregnant and said, “I’m going to go hang the swatches on the wall, come see when you’re done?”

He nodded, shoving an entire taco in his mouth.

She chuckled, but shivered as a brisk wind blew by. “Cass, I know the sun is straight on you, but it’s forty-five degrees out. Don’t you think you should put a shirt on?”

He finished chewing and said, “How else will I keep my tan year round?”

She shook her head and said, “I’ll be inside, call me if you need me. I love you.”

He smiled at her, those hazel eyes sparkling from the joy he felt inside. “I love you too, darlin’.”

She turned and started up the porch steps and heard, “Hey.”

Nesta looked back at him and he asked, the sparkle replaced by his usual mischievous glint, “You got any green swatches in there?”

Nesta rolled her eyes as Azriel pulled the truck in next to her little car. “No.”

She continued up into the house, laughing when she heard Az ask why the hell he wasn’t wearing a shirt. She pulled the swatches out of her purse, including the couple of greens she’d snagged on their way out, along with her phone and she and Beau made their way up to her old room.

The room that she grew up in was the same room her daughter would too.

As she was taping swatches to the room, in various lighting, she called Feyre, putting her phone on speaker.

“Hello?” her sister answered a second later.

“Hey,” Nesta said, looking around the room. “I have a favor to ask.” “Ask away,” Feyre said.

Nesta admired the swatches she had chosen before clearing her throat. “Would you mind...helping me paint the baby’s nursery?”

There was a slight pause, then Feyre’s quiet voice came through, “Of course.”

“I was thinking the sunrise,” Nesta continued, trying not to cry for the tenth time that day. “Bright, cheery, calming.”

“I can do that,” Feyre breathed. “I can come by this weekend?”

“Perfect,” Nesta agreed. There was a few seconds of silence before Nesta said, “Thank you.”

“Anything for my niece,” Feyre said, then added, “And anything for you. And that idiot fiancé of yours.”

Nesta peeked out the window where Cassian was still mowing without his shirt on. He always acted like it was spring, even in the winter. Although their town stayed pretty mild, winter-wise, there was still a little chill in the air. “Idiot he is, but he’s my idiot.”

Feyre chuckled. “Still on for dinner tomorrow?”

“Of course,” Nesta promised. “I’ll see you then.”

They said their goodbyes before Nesta was left alone, in the silence, observing the room around her. Five minutes of planning in her head passed before heavy boots padded up the stairs and Cassian appeared, now wearing a hoodie, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows. “Can I help with anything?”

She was admiring the colors in the direct sunlight. “You can tell me which of these you like best.”

“Hmm.” He came up behind her, pressing his big hands against her belly. Even as round as she was, even at over eight months pregnant, his hands still covered most of it. But then they slid upwards until he was cupping a breast in each hand. He made a show of weighing them and squeezing them gently, and said, “I don’t know, I think I’m pretty partial to the left one.”

She rolled her eyes, laughing, and pushed away from him, walking towards the wall. “I meant color, baby.”

“Oh, well that’s easy,” he snorted, coming in closer as well.

It turned out that it was, in fact, not easy.

After forty-five minutes of arguing and an almost silent quickie with the door open to make up, they had narrowed it down to New Spring Chick and Frosted Tropical Apricot.

They would let Feyre make the final decision in the morning.

“Don’t you have to get back out there?” Nesta asked.

Cassian shook his head. “For now, Az has it covered, it’s been an easy day. I was thinking you and I could go out to dinner, though.”

Nesta lifted a brow. “Dinner?”

Cassian nodded, then gestured to her belly. “We only have so much more time before baby comes. We should have a date night while we can.”

Nesta watched him for a moment before saying, “Okay, fine. But does this mean I have to get dressed up?”

Cassian grinned. “You could wear fucking sweatpants for all I care, but I’m taking you out.”

She wouldn’t wear sweatpants, but she also didn’t plan on wearing another real pair of pants until after this baby was out of her.

Cassian pressed a soft kiss to her stomach, which he did every chance he took, and left to go take a much needed shower. Nesta got ready, slipping on a pair of comfy black leggings and a baggy sweatshirt. Cass ended up dressing nearly identically, except he did wear sweatpants.

They hopped in the “play truck” and right before they left, Cassian said, “Shit, I’ll be right back.”

Nesta sat straight up, hands forming a protective cage around her stomach. “What? Is everything okay?”

He jogged into the house and came back out a minute later, backpack tossed over his shoulder. Climbing back into the truck, he tossed it in the backseat and put it in reverse.

“What is that?” she asked. “You scared the shit out of me.”

“This,” Cass replied, putting his free hand in Nesta’s and rubbing soothing circles into the back of her hand, “is our emergency bag. It’s got everything we’ll need in it in case you go into labor. Clothes, insurance paperwork, phone chargers, snacks.” He began a smooth back and forth motion. “Diapers, binkies, onesies, little socks and blankets, and everything else our precious girl is going to need.”

She blinked, and hated that tears were, once again, rolling down her cheeks. “You have truly thought of everything, haven’t you?”

Cassian shrugged. “You’re literally growing my child inside of you. As your baby daddy, it’s my job to take as much stress off of you as possible.”

Nesta leaned over the center console and pressed her lips to his cheek. “Thank you.”

He grinned, fully satisfied with himself, as he pulled onto the road and headed into town. They drove to a little Italian restaurant because Nesta had mentioned she could use a plate full of breadsticks. Cassian ordered it to go, though, and hopped back into the truck before driving a mile down the road to the old high school. He parked in the parking lot before hopping out and putting down the truck bed.

“Come on, babe,” he called, already taking the boxes of pasta out of the bag. When Nesta came around, he helped her onto the back of the truck before joining her there, his thigh brushing hers.

She ate her alfredo happily, indeed chowing down on an insane number of breadsticks that Cassian swore he didn’t count.

He was rubbing her feet when she asked, voice quiet, “Are you scared?”

He looked at her, at how she was staring off toward the football field, pretending not to notice him staring at her. “Am I scared of doing something stupid? Yes. Am I scared it’s going to be a lot more than we’re expecting? Yes. Am I scared we’re going to get in over our heads? Yes. Am I scared that there’s about to be a miniature version of you running around? Hell yes.” He turned her face toward his, forcing her to look at him. “But am I scared to be a father? No. Am I scared to meet our daughter? No. Am I scared to do this with you? Absolutely not.”

She whispered, “Quit making me cry.”

But he shook his head, softly. “I love you, Nesta. And yeah, I am scared, but I can’t wait. This little girl already has me wrapped around her finger and she’s not even here yet.”

A tear slid down her cheek that he quickly reached up and brushed away. “Are you scared?”

Nesta took a moment to think about it, but then she sighed. “Yes, and no. It’s complicated.”

Cassian chuckled, in full understanding.

“I’m scared because I don’t know what to expect,” she said, after a minute. “I’m not sure how to handle the not knowing.”

“That’s why we have each other, sweetheart,” he kissed the top of her head. “Come on, let’s get home. I have a shitload of furniture to build tonight.”

The egregiously overpriced infant's bedroom suit that Nesta had seen online had been delivered that afternoon. Cassian couldn’t understand how Nesta could justify spending as much as some people spent on a vehicle on furniture that was just going to get covered in shit and baby barf.

Not to mention that it had been shipped from overseas.

They packed up their trash and got back in the truck, heading for home.

“While I carry all of the boxes upstairs, why don’t you take a nice bath, baby?” He asked. “And then when you’re done, you can read me instructions that I won’t listen to while I figure out how to put it all together.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop herself from chuckling. “At least you’re honest.”

He took her hand and pressed his lips against her knuckles. “I am that.”

Nesta had to admit that the thought of a bath sounded incredible, though, so she didn’t argue. Once they got home, Nesta was making her way, slowly, up the porch, inside, and up the stairs while Cassian got to work on gathering the boxed nursery furniture. They had a changing table, a bookshelf, a dresser, and a crib, all of which Nesta had bought from a small French boutique that had always caught her eye in Paris. When Cassian asked why they couldn’t just go into town and buy something that was already assembled, Nesta’s answer was simple: she was getting what she wanted, and she wanted the modern, white, sleek furniture she’d on her walk to work every day.

Cassian didn’t argue.

While she was soaking in the tub, she could hear Cass moving around in the other room. She’d hear a thump as a box was dropped or something would start dragging across the floor. At one point, she heard a loud bang followed by Son of a bitch!

Nesta laughed quietly to herself and smoothed a hand over her belly, which stuck out of the water by a considerable amount. “Daddy’s getting your room put together, sweet girl, and then we’re ready for you to get here whenever you are.”

She leaned her head back against the cool, porcelain tub, sighing happy. Life had become so crazy lately, but she couldn’t find it in herself to be stressed about it.

Her phone vibrated on the small table by her head and when she leaned up to glance at it, her hand slipped on the slick surface. The table knocked against the tub and Nesta gasped as her phone fell into the water.

“Shit,” she breathed, grabbing it out and tossing it onto a nearby towel. She decided that was the end of her bath and got out drying herself off and getting dressed.

She tried to power her phone back on, knowing she shouldn’t but hoping it hadn’t been in the water long enough to do any damage. The logo popped up in the middle of the screen then it went black and began to make a whirring noise.

“Damn it.” She sighed and made her way downstairs, throwing it in a bag of rice to see if it could be salvaged. Otherwise, it looked like she’d be going into town the next day for a new phone.

Cassian was padding down the stairs a moment later, his brows furrowed. He took one look at Nesta and froze, then looked down at her phone in the bag of rice. “Your phone take a bath, too?”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “Maybe.” With a deep sigh, she leaned back against the counter. “I’m pissed.”

“Me too,” Cassian mumbled, throwing open the fridge and grabbing two beers. “I’ve decided that I hate France. Or at least French furniture. Fuck France and their fancy furniture.”

Nesta snorted and came up behind him, attempting to wrap her arms around his waist, but over her giant bump, she hardly managed to reach around his sides.

Cassian's body shook with silent laughter as he turned to face her. “Bump in the way?” He asked, before setting one of his beer cans on the top of it, which only made Nesta roll her eyes.

“It’s not a table,” she laughed.

“Seems pretty convenient to me,” he shrugged, popping open a can and chugging it down. He brushed his hand over her bump, and just when he touched, baby girl kicked wildly from inside, which only made Nesta groan.

“That either means that she loves me, or that she’s telling me to fuck off,” Cassian said, which made Nesta laugh. After he kissed her forehead, then the bump with the wild, little Nazari inside, he said, “Alright, baby mama, come upstairs and watch me struggle.”

She smirked and headed for the stairs as he tossed the empty can in the trash, opened the second and grabbed a third to take upstairs. “I already do that on the daily. What’s so different about building furniture?”

She heard him mimic her words in a mocking tone and she laughed as she topped the stairs and made her way into the nursery.

It looked like a styrofoam factory exploded. There were pieces everywhere and screws littering the little catch-all tray he pulled from his tool box. She sighed, realizing it was going to be a long night.

But when she looked out the window, into the starry, cloudless night, and screamed Cassian’s name, she forgot all about furniture and messy packing materials. She forgot all about her phone lying useless on the kitchen counter. She even, for a moment, forgot her own name.

Because the stables were catching on fire.

Cassian was instantly behind her, his eyes wide as he swore violently. “Stay here,” he ordered, and then he was gone, pulling out his phone on the way out the nursery door.

Nesta could only stare in horror as Cassian's dark figure, only outlined by the light of the moon, sprinted down the path that led to the stables.

It was quickly going up in flames, all consuming, raging flames. Nesta didn’t understand how it could have happened.

Only moments ago, she had been down in the kitchen and the stables were fine.

Then, the thought that had her heart stopping entered her mind. It hadn’t been an accident, couldn’t have been an accident, but that didn’t make any sense.

A slow panic crept into the pit of her stomach, she was breathing heavier, her heart beating wildly as she sobbed, holding onto her bump, the only thing that allowed her to keep her sanity.

Nesta remembered that Az had told her he’d put the horses in the pasture this morning, since it wasn’t supposed to rain, and she was thankful to whatever god whispered in his ear and told him to do so.

She needed to call someone, needed to get the fire department here. Needed to call her sisters, to call Az. Without thinking, she turned and ran from the room, carefully making her way down the stairs and into the kitchen.

Her phone wasn’t on the counter where she’d left it and she frantically looked around the kitchen.

She plunged into near darkness as the lights went out and a frightened scream burst from Nesta, followed by a sob.

She needed Cassian.

She screamed his name, her voice full of shaking terror as she reached around, trying to find something to hold onto. Eventually, her hands found the edge of the counter and she told herself to breath, in and out. Stress wasn’t good for the baby, panic wasn’t good for the baby.

But she couldn’t help it, and as if the infant in her womb knew that something horrible was happening, she kicked wildly.

Nesta felt the need to puke but she couldn’t move, not in the darkness, not as far from the city as they were. Even as her eyes adjusted to the lack of light, she couldn’t see through the endless tears.

She tried one more time to scream Cassian’s name, but her voice came out broken, terrified, and it was no use, he was too far away.

She thought she heard a door open and close across the house and she froze. Her voice cracked as she called, “Cass?”

There was no answer.

Something was wrong, something was very, very wrong. She held onto the counter as she quickly ran for the back door - only to find that it was jammed shut, a two-by-four under the doorknob preventing it from opening.

She began to hyperventilate as she realized that this, all of this, was deliberate. The fire still blazed outside, and Nesta heard a creak from the old, wood flooring in the other room. Her blood chilled as she realized that she wasn’t alone in the house.

She ran for the front door, finding it stuck shut as well. “Please, please, please!” She sobbed, pulling on the door as hard as she could. There were unmistakably footsteps from the dining room and she cried, “Please, I’m pregnant, please.”

She hurried back to the kitchen as quietly as she could and silently opened a drawer, pulling out a large knife. She held it out, blindly as she took shuddering breaths.

Then he appeared, in the doorway, wearing a dark hoodie, the hood pulled up. He was tall, his shoulders broad, but slim.

She knew who it was.

She would be foolish to convince herself it wasn’t him. He hadn’t gotten what he wanted from her, had stalked her for months without saying a word. He didn’t come any closer.

Nesta did not lower her knife.

She tried to convince herself to look unafraid, to sound calm, but she couldn’t help the tears that continued to stream down her face.

Inside of her womb, the infant became utterly still.

Nesta swallowed and lifted her chin. “Leave,” she ordered, the demand echoing in the silence. “Or I will kill you, and I will not hesitate.”

Even as she said the words, she wasn’t convinced they were true.

Cassian couldn’t breathe. There was smoke in his eyes, it was unbearably hot, and he couldn’t stop coughing, but then he was out in the fresh night air, his back hitting the soft grass.

He knew that Az had led the horses out before he left today, had watched him take them out one by one, but he had to make sure. He had to verify that there wasn’t one down somewhere.

He found nothing, not a horse or person inside.

Except the overwhelming smell of gasoline.

This fire wasn’t natural, it was intentional. This fire was set.

He’d called Azriel before his feet had hit the landing of the stairs telling him what was happening and asking him to call the fire department. He didn’t know what else to do. It’s not like he could turn on the garden hose and put it out. With as much accelerant was used, it would burn all night.

He knew exactly who it was, he didn’t try to delude himself into anything else.

A truck door slammed and Feyre and Rhys were running toward him.

“What happened?” He asked, helping him stand. Cassian saw that his arm was covered in soot. “I have no idea. We were building baby furniture and the barn was fine, came down to the kitchen so I could grab a beer, and when Nes got back upstairs it was in a blaze.” He coughed, but continued, “Smells like a damn Mapco in there, there was so much gasoline dumped.”

“Gasoline?” Feyre asked, covering her mouth in horror.

Cassian nodded. “Tomas did this.”

Rhysand stilled as Feyre’s face paled.

“I have to go to Nesta,” she breathed, backing away from the fire, even though she wasn’t close to it. She glanced back at the dark. “Is she down at the cabin?”

Cassian’s face fell as he glanced up at the big house, then, he was sprinting.

If Tomas had done this, which Cassian was sure he did, he would still be close. He ran without stopping, without a breath, until he was up the back porch. The door was wide open, a piece of wood sitting off to the side.

Cassian was inside of the kitchen before he screamed, “Nesta?!”

There was no reply in the dark house, no movement or creak or whisper. He frantically flicked the light switch, nothing happening.

“What’s going on?” Feyre called, catching up and coming up the stairs.

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but there was a banging from the front of the house. “Nesta?!”

He was running through the dark house immediately, finding Azriel and Elain on the other side of the front door. It was jammed closed as well. “Move!”

They did as he said and he put all of his weight into the motion as he tried to shove the door open. On the second try, it gave way.

Elain was already crying when she and Az ran in. He said, “Fire department is on the way.”

Cassian was about to say something when Rhysand’s shaking voice called out from the kitchen. “Cass… come here.”

The sound of his voice chilled Cassian’s blood. He hurried back, could see from the glow that either Feyre or Rhys was using their phone’s flashlight function.

He stumbled into the kitchen, nearly tripping over himself and ran to the other side of the island.

He froze.

One of the kitchen knives was missing from its spot in the open drawer, but it laid on the floor, just a few feet away.

There was so much blood.

She was gone. He took her. By taking her, he took them both.

Cassian heaved over the kitchen sink, everything within his stomach emptying out. He knew he was crying, but he didn’t care. He knew he was sobbing, but no one tried to comfort him. Knew no one was sure how.

Nesta was gone. His baby girl was gone. Tomas had taken them. They were gone, the only hunch of where they had gone written on the kitchen floor: a long kitchen knife and a puddle of blood.

Cassian was ready to set the world on fire.

“I have to find her,” he breathed, he cried, as his face fell into his hands next to the kitchen sink. “I will find her.”

“Cass-.”

“No,” Cassian interrupted Rhysand before he could even say a word. “He’s out there, and he has my fucking fiancée and child!”

But Rhysand only shook his head. “I know. I’m coming, too.”

“Me too,” Azriel agreed, then looked to Elain, who nodded.

“We'll take care of things around here,” Elain promised. “Go to the police. Now.”

Cassian was already near the front door, just as a fire truck pulled onto the grounds.

“I’ll go talk to them,” Feyre said, and kissed Rhysand quickly on the cheek before hurrying out the back door, Elain close behind.

Cassian was looking around the house as he walked, even though he’d already searched the entirety of it. Rhysand and Azriel were on his heels as they exited through the front door.

Rhysand’s truck had the most room, and they knew letting Cassian drive wasn’t the smartest. The first logical place to go was the Carlson ranch, only to find it deserted. Cassian looked at the window, where he’d hurled the brick back at him.

“Where would they go?” Azriel asked, kicking something aside as they searched through his workshop.

Rhysand’s phone rang and he answered it. A quick conversation took place, and Feyre said the police needed to talk to Cassian.

They loaded back up into the truck and went back to the ranch. The police were there, along with the fire department and an ambulance, and the second Cassian’s feet hit the ground, questions were being asked.

“What happened?”

Cassian replayed the situation, from the second Nesta had noticed the fire blazing up until the point he realized they were missing.

“You have to find her,” he told the police, after he told his story. “She’s thirty-eight weeks pregnant, nearly ready to go into labor, you have to fucking find her.”

“We will do everything we ca-.”

“Find her!” he yelled, grabbing the cop he’d been talking to by the shoulders. No one reacted, everyone stayed calm, even the cop that was being grabbed.

The young cop simply took a deep breath before saying, “We will look for her, adamantly, starting now.”

Cassian released his shoulders and nodded, and said in a quiet voice. “Thank you, just… I have to get them back.”

He looked over to where the stables once stood. Now it was a smoldering pile of wood and cinders, all that time put in, all those memories. Gone up in a blaze.

They told Cassian he couldn’t stay in their house that night, that they’d be combing through it for any evidence.

He asked a passing officer, “Will you please, please tell me if that’s her blood?”

The dark red hair, the amber eyes. He was a Vanserra, no doubt.

He nodded. “As soon as we know something, we’ll let you know.”

They let Cassian go in, accompanied by Elain, to get what he would need for the next few days.

Elain did most of the packing, although she cried the whole time. Cassian couldn’t stay focused though, couldn’t concentrate on anything other than her.

All he could think about was Nesta and their baby, where they were, what he was doing to them.

But per the cops request, Cassian went home with Azriel and Elain to wait for further word.

But he didn’t sleep, didn’t rest.

And he wouldn’t until he found them.

Nesta, and his baby girl.

#theranchnessian #sharacollab #snelbz tacmc collab #snacmc #nessian

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theladyofdeath · 4 years ago

Text

The Ranch {8}

An A Court of Thorns and Roses, Nesta x Cassian, Modern AU, fanfiction.

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty x @tacmc

Sidenote: Being posted between two blogs, it is too chaotic to keep up with a tags list, so all chapters will be tagged with “#TheRanchNessian” & “#SharaCollab”.

A/N: We love that you guys have been loving this so much! Please continue to let us know what you’re thinking. We loved writing this fic, and your love means the world to us.

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian didn’t see or hear from Nesta for the rest of the day. He saw her in the main house around dinner time, but decided he would let her cook in peace. He didn’t know what kind of demons had reared their ugly heads at her today, but whatever had happened between Nesta and Tomas Motherfucking Mandray had screwed with her so badly that he barely recognized the woman he found in the paint department today.

He remembered Nesta from high school, had known that she had dated Tomas then. But, he didn’t know much. At least, not about Nesta. As for Tomas, however, he and Cassian went way back, and none of their interactions had ever been pleasant. Tomas had always been a self-absorbed little bitch. He hated Tomas.

And he had hated him even more when he walked into the paint aisle and saw how fucking terrified Nesta had been.

Yet, he wasn’t going to push her to talk about it. She would come to him when she was ready. Maybe. Hopefully. Either way, Cassian had convinced himself that it was none of his business.

Even if he really, really wanted it to be his business.

As night approached, Cassian made sure all the horses were ready for bed, and all the cattle were where they were meant to be. He whistled for Beau to follow him into the cabin and, the good pup he was, Beau obeyed. Once inside, he slumped into the recliner and checked his phone.

There was a text from Rhys that read, Being engaged is fucking awesome. It ended with three flame emojis. Cassian found the text as a whole repulsive and unnecessary.

There was a text from Azriel, too, that read, Drinks on Friday? Elain is working all night.

Cassian dismissed it, making a mental note to reply in the morning.

Then, he had one last text.

From Nesta.

Thanks for today. Sorry I spaced out.

He read the text once, twice, three times before finding the nerve to reply. Anytime, he wrote. He wanted to write something else, anything else, wanted to add a fucking speech at the end of the one-worded text, but he decided against it.

He pressed send.

It wasn’t two minutes later that he got a reply. You should be sleeping. You’ll have to wake up early to get on the stables, won’t you?

Cassian chuckled to himself. Maybe. But you have to be up early to do your makeup before you finish the landscaping, he replied.

Her reply wasn’t as quick this time, the dancing dots disappearing every so often. But when his phone finally vibrated while he was brushing his teeth, he laughed out loud.

Don’t act like it takes me more time to do my hair than it takes you to do yours. Don’t think I haven’t noticed those man buns are a little TOO perfect sometimes.

He replied with no hesitation. Glad to know you’re looking at my man buns.

He swore that he could feel her eyes roll from across the property. Goodnight, Sexy Ranch Hand.

Goodnight, beautiful.

He sent the text, hoping it would bring her a little bit of joy, a little bit of comfort, but then, when she didn’t reply, he grew nervous.

He felt he was walking a fine line with Nesta, ever since she scolded him for being his boss.

His hesitation didn’t last too long, though, because his phone vibrated the minute he climbed into his bed. The text was short, but it gave him comfort.

A smiley face emoji greeted him as Beau climbed up on the bed beside him.

He slept good that night, smiling stupidly to himself as he snuggled up next to Beau. And when morning came, he felt completely refreshed.

He was up and getting dressed with a cup of coffee at four, and as sunrise approached, Cassian grabbed a bag by the door and he and Beau were walking out into the cool, muggy summer morning. It wouldn’t be long until the sun was beating down, drenching him in sweat.

Instead of heading toward the stables, Cassian went across the grass and the gravel driveway, and up the steps of the tiny, modern house that sat there.

He pounded on the door and Beau stayed in the yard, chasing his tail.

No answer.

He pounded his fist on the wood once more.

Nothing.

With a sigh, Cassian kept knocking, and didn’t stop. He pounded repeatedly on the door for at least thirty seconds when the door was thrown open, and Nesta stood there, looking like she wanted to set him on fire.

“What the hell?” She asked, voice raspy, hair a mess, body wrapped in a crocheted blanket.

“Rise and shine,” Cassian grinned. “Go on. Get dressed.”

Her eyes narrowed as she flipped on the porch light. Cassian lit up as she groaned from the brightness of it.

“You wanted to learn how things are done around here,” Cassian laughed. “Well, I start at sunrise, ever day.”

Nesta rubbed her eyes and snorted. “Unless you’re hungover.”

Cassian grinned. “Fair enough. Alright, go on, get dressed, I’ll wait.”

Nesta sighed but didn’t protest as she took a step back.

“Oh,” Cassian said, before she could close the door on him. “Here.”

He held out the bag.

She blinked. “What is that?”

“I kept telling you,” he said, shaking the bag until she took it. “You own a ranch. You need a pair of boots.”

“You...bought me boots?”

Cassian shrugged as she took the bag and shoved his hands into his pockets. “With your sisters’ help. Consider it your welcome home gift.”

Nesta was speechless as she slowly went back into her little house.

She didn’t bother closing the door, so Cassian stepped inside as she went back into her bedroom.

He looked around, although there wasn’t much inside. He noticed Elain’s old furniture, that he had helped move in upon Nesta’s arrival.

“Hopefully they fit,” Cassian said as he went to the little fridge in the kitchen and looked at the pictures that covered it. “I may have snuck a glance at your sneakers the other day when you weren’t looking to check for size.”

Nesta’s quiet laughter flooded through the hall. “Creep.”

Cassian grinned to himself as he studied a picture of the girls when they were young, smiling with their mother. Cassian had never met her. She died years before Isaac had hired him.

Nesta came out a minute later, and even in the dim lamplight, Cassian was breathless.

Her hair was pulled back in a high point tail. She wore jeans, a tank top, and an old flannel shirt, which remained open.

And her boots, which fit nicely.

“Okay, stop staring,” Nesta muttered. “I realize you’ve never seen me in boots and it’s shocking.”

Cassian cleared his throat and rubbed the back of his neck as he nodded. “They look nice.”

Nesta rolled her eyes and her boots thumped toward the front door. “Yeah, yeah. Alright, let’s do this.”

Cassian allowed himself to watch her walk out the door and down the steps before he followed her out.

————

“Harder.”

Cassian grunted.

“Harder.”

He groaned, but did as he was told.

“Harder!”

Cassian was out of breath, but he said, “This is as hard as it gets, I don’t know what else you want from me.”

Nesta gritted her teeth, but still managed to roll her eyes. “I want you to try harder.”

He grunted and said, “Okay, okay, put it down. Stop pushing.”

They both moved away from the enormous roll of hay they’d been trying to roll through the south pasture. It had rained overnight, nearly doubling the weight of the hay and Cassian had suspected he needed a little more muscle than what Nesta had to offer.

“I’ll have to call Rhys,” Cassian said, lifting the hem of his shirt to wipe his brow. Nesta was folded at the waist, her hands braced on her knees.

“No, we can-.” She stopped to breathe. “We can do it. We got this”

He chuckled, “Nes, that hay weighs over 5 times your weight. We absolutely do not got this.”

Her lips tightened as she sized up the roll of hay. “We-.”

“Nesta,” Cassian breathed, laughing quietly. “It’s not a big deal. Your ability to move a roll of hay doesn’t dictate your ability to run a ranch. Well, own it, I run it.”

Nesta couldn’t help the smile that tugged on the corner of her mouth. “You’re incredibly annoying.”

“I know,” he grinned, wiping his face with the hem of his shirt, once more. Nesta’s eyes lingered a little bit too long on his abdomen, just above the waistband of his jeans, which were hanging loosely on his hips. He didn’t seem to notice as he pulled his phone out of his pocket and sent a text to Rhys. “Rhys will be over soon, I’m sure, he has the day off. Unless your sister kept him up all night.”

Nesta scrunched her nose. “No need to reference my sister’s sex life.”

Cassian’s grin widened as he put his phone back into his pocket. “You wanna go for a ride?”

Nesta stilled, and her hesitation made him howl.

“I meant on a horse, Nesta,” he said, unable to control his laughter. “Calm down.”

“Asshole,” she mumbled. Her cheeks were red, both from the sun they’d been in all day and the blush now tipping her ears as well. She wrinkled her nose and shook her head. “I don’t have a horse. I’m okay.”

Cassian had an eyebrow raised. “You actually have eight.”

“I have-.” Nesta paused. “Oh. You’re right.”

But not Phoenix.

“Hey.” Cassian’s voice was soft and she looked up, not expecting him to be so close. His hazel eyes were the color of the forest floor. As if he could read her thoughts, he said, “You’ll never be able to replace him, Nes. You’ll never get back that bond with him. But that doesn’t mean you can’t build another bond with another horse.”

He was right, of course, but she hadn’t been on a horse in nearly a decade. The thought alone terrified her. Yes, she was beginning not to mind being back in Velaris, had even started enjoying herself while working on the B&B, but to ride again? She wasn’t sure if she was ready for such a huge step.

And it was.

A massive step.

Yet, Cassian’s eyes were so full of hope, and the way they watched her, so softly, Nesta couldn’t say no.

Didn’t want to say no.

“Okay,” she breathed. “Fine.”

Cassian slowly shook his head. “I need to hear you say it with a little more enthusiasm.”

Nesta pursed her lips and shoved him in the shoulder, which only made his cocky ass grin return.

“Come on,” she said, heading in the direction of the dilapidated stalls the horses stayed in. She walked about twenty feet before she realized he wasn’t walking with her. “What?”

Cassian chuckled. “You really were tired this morning, weren’t you?”

Nesta blinked. “You banged on my door at, like, three in the morning. Of course I was tired.”

“Okay, first of all, it was four thirty,” he said, laughing. “Second, follow me.”

Nesta wasn’t sure exactly how she’d missed it. He was right, she must have been half asleep to miss the framework nestled back into the trees between their two houses.

But this was not the basic stable and tack room she’d described to him.

No, this building was going to be massive.

“There are going to be sixteen stalls,” Cassian said, sticking his hands in his pockets. “The tack room is going to be on that side,” he indicated to the right. “And the lodge, will be to the left.”

“The lodge?” Nesta asked, turning to look at him. “Figured it might be nice to have a little getaway out here. If you don’t like it, I can scrap it from the plans, make this a second tack room or storage area.”

But Nesta wasn’t listening, she’d turned back to the massive framework of beams in front of her.

She breathed, “Cassian, it’s perfect.”

He scratched at the back of his neck. “It’s going to take me a while to finish-.”

“Tell me what you need and it’s yours.” There was no hesitation to her words. “We can even hire someone to help, if you want.”

Cassian chuckled, softly. “That’s okay. I got it. If I need help, I’ll ask Rhys and Az. They’ll be more than happy to help when they can.”

“I can’t believe you…” Nesta shook her head, and looked at him. “Put so much thought into it.��

He shrugged. “You asked for updated stables. I just did what I’m told.”

“You really do love this place, don’t you?” Nesta asked quietly.

“Yeah,” Cassian said, meeting her gaze. “I had a bad reputation, from a lot of stupid shit I did when I was younger. Your dad really took a chance on hiring me, but I’m grateful every day that he did. He gave me a sense of purpose, when I thought I didn’t have one.”

Nesta nodded, slowly, and did not back down from his gaze as she said, “I’m grateful, too. That you’re here. I’d be completely lost without you.”

Cassian’s eyes softened, and she thought he was going to say something sweet, but then he said, “Yeah...all the other ranchers in this town aren’t as sexy as me, so, you really did luck out.”

“Oh, cauldron boil me,” Nesta groaned and Cassian put his arm around her shoulder and steered her towards the house, towards the shed where the saddles and other tack was kept.

“Ahhh, I didn’t want it to get too sappy.” He said, grinning down at her. “But now, we’re gonna see if you’re really worth your salt on this ranch.” He stopped in front of the shed and unlocked the padlock.

“And what exactly does that mean?” Nesta asked, not so subtly watching the way his back muscles moved under the blue t-shirt he wore.

He turned and Nesta cleared her throat and looked at him. He had a lead rope in his hand.

“Time to go catch you a horse, Nesta Archeron.”

——————

As the sun was setting, Nesta and Cassian walked back from the pasture, laughing.

“I had no idea that you were the one that released the dissection frogs!” Nesta said, locking the gate behind them. “Was it in protest of animal cruelty or something?”

Cassian thought for a second. “No, but if I had gotten caught, that probably would have been a better excuse than the one I would have gone with.”

Nesta chuckled. “Which was?”

He smirked and said, “Because I got bored.”

Nesta froze and watched him walk the rest of the way to the shed. “You let over four hundred frogs loose because you were bored?”

He put the ropes back in their place and locked the shed up. “Yup.” The grin on his face told her he, indeed, was proud of himself. And she was grinning, too.

Before she could stop herself, she asked, “Do you want to come have dinner with me?”

Cassian’s eyebrows raised. “Tonight?”

“Tonight, tomorrow night, whenever.” She shrugged, trying to play it off as a casual offer, and not that asking had filled her stomach with butterflies as strongly as it had when she had her first kiss. “We can meet for dinner in the main house every night. There’s no need for us to both cook.”

His smile returned, but it was softer. “I’d like that.”

They headed back around the front of the house, Cassian rattling off his favorite foods, most of which consisted of red meat and starches. When they came around the corner, Nesta froze.

Cassian’s words trailed off as he stopped beside her. A little black truck had pulled up, old and rusty. But the girl that came out of that little, rusty truck was stunning.

Nesta looked over at Cassian, to see if he recognized the young woman.

And, oh, he definitely did.

“Emerie,” he said, uncomfortably, clearing his throat. “What are you doing here?”

“Thought I’d come by to say hello,” she crooned, grin wide. Then, she seemed to notice Nesta for the first time. “Oh. Who are you?”

Nesta blinked, then realized she was being spoken to. “I own this property.”

“Oh,” she breathed, eyes growing wide with recognition. “Your Isaac’s oldest? Wow.” She looked Nesta up and down, and the gesture had Nesta seeing red. “Well, it’s nice to meet you. I’m Emerie.”

“I’ve heard,” Nesta muttered.

Cassian was fiddling with the hem of his shirt when he said, “You know, we’re a little busy, Em, why don’t you come back later?”

“Later works,” she said, sliding her hands in her back pockets. “I was going to see if you wanted to have dinner, too, but it seems like you’re...taken care of.”

Cassian cleared his throat and said, “Nesta and I were just-.”

“Just finishing up for the day,” Nesta interrupted. She turned to Cassian and the warm, playful nature he’d seen emerging earlier had gone cold. “Thanks for showing me the ropes. I really appreciate it.” She began up the porch steps and Cassian reached for her hand. He gently gripped her fingers.

“Nesta, wait, let me explain. It’s-,” he dragged his hand down his face, the callouses catching on his stubble. “It’s not what it looks like.”

“I fell for that once before,” she whispered, her fingers tightening in his. “I won’t fall for it again.”

A look of confusion crossed Cassian's face, but his hand dropped. Emerie had gotten the hint, had gotten back up into her truck and was backing out.

“Are you jealous?” He asked, and it was almost anger that replaced the spark in his hazel eyes. “Are you fucking kidding me?”

“I’m not jealous,” Nesta snapped. “But it’s really inappropriate-“

“If you say that word one more time, Nesta, I swear on the fucking cauldron-.” Cassian’s words faded away and he raked his fingers through his long, tangled hair. “Must I remind you that you didn’t want me?”

There it was.

The words hung between them as complete silence consumed them, Emerie’s old truck driving away the only thing to be heard.

Nesta stared down at him, hurt written plainly across her face.

Hurt.

He had expected her to be jealous of Emerie, but he didn’t expect to see pain roiling in the depths of her eyes.

“Nesta, I-.”

She cut him off. “Did you lie to me?”

He blinked up at her, the sunset making her hair glow. “What?”

“That night, I asked you point blank if you had a girlfriend,” Nesta said, voice wavering. “You said no.”

“No,” Cassian said, eyes growing hard. “I have never lied to you, Nesta, I’m not a fucking liar. Emerie’s just a friend. She comes by every now and then. I haven’t seen her in months. She only comes by when she wants something.”

“Sex?” Nesta asked, before she could stop the word from tumbling out of her mouth.

Cassian shook his head, ignoring the short question altogether. “It doesn’t fucking matter. But, I’ve never lied to you. And, if you think I would lie to you….fuck.”

She could see the anger brewing inside of him, could see the frustration, but Nesta didn’t care, because she was pissed. And yet, she had no reason to be. He was right. She had turned him down. She had no right to care.

She was hurt, though.

And that hurt grew when she saw the hurt, saw the anguish, in his own eyes.

“I didn’t lie,” he repeated, looking away from her, out toward the pastures. “I’m a lot of things, Nesta, but I’m not a liar.”

She knew he wasn’t, knew it in every fiber of her being.

She hadn’t even been back in Velaris for a month, had just started to open up to the complicated man in front of her. Day and night, he always found a way to creep into her thoughts, into her dreams. But she couldn’t afford to be vulnerable, couldn’t afford to get tangled up with the man she couldn’t get off of her mind, no matter what she may want.

Not when her father's dream was on the line.

So Nesta closed her eyes, trying to hide the tears that has silently started slipping down her cheeks.

She turned her back to him, and hurried up the stairs of the main house.

Cassian was calling her name, but she forced herself to keep walking, to open the door, enter the house, shut herself inside.

She leaned against the slab of wood, stayed their as her eyes filled with tears, even as Cassian knocked on the other side.

“Nesta,” he said, voice calm, quiet, broken. “Hey, open up, come on.” He knocked again.

Nesta didn’t move.

She stayed there, leaning against the door, listening to him knock, listening to him beg.

But no matter what he said, Nesta didn’t open the door.

#theranchnessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf #fanfic #au #nessian #shara collab #sharacollab

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writefightandflightclub · 4 years ago

Note

Would you maybe like to write some headcanons for tony and a female s/o who often speaks with friday when she is bored or talks to him whem she thinks tony wont listen? Of course tony can hear all this talks she just doesent know.. maybe she even talks abourt her insecures (being not enough for tony) with friday..

F.R.I.D.A.Y, I’m in Love (Tony Stark x reader)

GIF by @ruinedchildhood

Warnings: brief mentions of alcohol, food. One swear.

A/n: thanks so much for this HC request, Anon! So excited to write a lil sthg for Tony and this concept is so cute! Actually, I have a lot of unpublished Tony fics I might blast out one day. I can’t tell you how much I love this man. Really.

You don’t know why you started talking to Friday, exactly. One day Tony had been riling you up with his antics, and you made an off-hand comment -under your breath to yourself- after he stormed out of the lab. You had been shocked when Friday replied to you, but the dry humour in her response had made you chuckle. Plus it had felt good to vent to someone.

Since then, in your first few months of working for Stark Industries, you formed a habit of venting to Friday. Not all the time- only whenever Tony was irritating, snarky, drunk, annoying, hangry, self-destructive, hungover, reckless, infuriating, stubborn, rude, or selfish... which, ok, you vented to Friday a helluva lot, actually.

Sometimes, Friday felt a bit like a friend. You justified it because you objectively knew she was “just” an AI, but you had formed a weird attachment to her. It could be lonely in the city, and, turns out that eccentric billionaire superhero bosses aren’t always the best company.

One day, as you sat yabbering to Friday on your lunch break, you had a terrible thought which felt like a stone dropping through your stomach. “Wait, Friday- you don’t tell Tony what I say about him, do you?” Your nails dug into your palms as you awaited her response- some of your words had been less than kind, in the heat of the moment, but you needed this job. Loved this job. You certainly didn’t want your boss to discover your track record of insults and fire you. Friday replied “Technically, I can’t keep anything from the boss, but he’d have to ask me a very specific question if he wanted conversation transcripts.” You had smiled. You were safe then, because Tony was never going to ask Friday anything about you. You were just his lab assistant, after all.

Over time, though, you saw a different side to Tony. You still thought he was annoying, reckless, and snarky, for sure, but you also discovered he was good. He was generous, he was giving. Funny. Heroic. Loyal. And boy, he was a flirt. You had grown to care deeply for him. So, sometimes, in idle conversation with Friday, you would chat about how much you missed him, if he was away. About how he made you laugh. About how hot he was. About how worried you were at the thought of losing him if he never came back from a mission. It was good to vent to someone. After all, you could never tell Tony how you felt about him. Not ever.

Sometimes, you must have forgotten that Friday wasn’t really your friend, and you told her a little too much. Told her about your feelings for Tony. Told her about your insecurities and how he’d never be interested in a woman like you anyway. How he flirted with everyone and that you were sure he could never see you as anyone special. Certainly not special enough for him.

One day, you are eating lunch like usual, and Tony waltzes in earlier than expected, catching you mid-sentence in conversation to Friday. You jump when you spot him standing behind you. “Look at this. Both my girls getting on,” he jokes, drumming his fingers over his arc reactor as his face splits into a slightly mocking smile, a little crinkle in his nose and crow’s feet radiating from around his whiskey eyes. “You always talk to Friday?” You had become good friends with Tony, but you still got shy around him sometimes, and you fluster your words and grab up some papers, making excuses to take your leave.

Curiously watching you go, Tony straddles a chair backwards and begins chewing on a pen, one arm resting on the chair back. Then a thought occurs to him. “Hey, Friday. Does she talk to you a lot?” “We’re firm friends, boss.” “Huh,” he replies. “Then does she ever talk about me?” “You’re not going to like it,” Friday warns.

Interest piqued, Tony asks his AI what you’ve said about him, and asks Friday to run an analysis of her logs. Turns out, Friday’s not your friend after all, because apparently she can’t keep your secret. “Sentiment analysis of our conversations suggests she has romantic feelings for you, but doesn’t think she’s good enough for you to reciprocate, boss. Which is contradictory data, because she also thinks you’re a bit of an arsehole.” “Hey!” Tony defends. “She’s not wrong” the AI sasses.

Tony is shocked to find out you like him too, but even more shocked to find out that you don’t think you’re good enough for him. It’s the other way around. He’s just some schmuck with a laundry list of mistakes and a Tom-Ford-pocket-full-of nightmares. He doesn’t deserve you. The most perfect woman this playboy has ever encountered.

The next time you’re in the lab, eating lunch, Tony arrives early again, and greets you by throwing your lunch abruptly in the bin. “You know, in some cultures that’s considered rude,” you state, looking at him agape. “Got something better,” he promises with a sniff which tugs on lip- his nervous tell. He produces a gourmet lunch for two, from one of the fancy Italian restaurants down the street. You’re a little shocked but you smile as he takes a stool on the other side of the lab bench to eat with you. He looks into your eyes, squinting at you through those stupid designer frames he hasn’t taken off yet.

You don’t know it, but in that moment, Tony resolves to let you know just how wonderful you are. Over and over again, until you believe him. And then some more.

You enjoy your lunch, and Tony is significantly less obnoxious than usual. It unsettles you. Clearly he’s up to something. “This was fun, right? I’m not always an asshole?” You look at him curiously, with a gentle, teasing smile. “You have your moments.” “Great, you’ll be up for date two then. Happy will pick you up at nineteen hundred hours. This Friday. Wear something slu... you know what, wear whatever you want, you’ll look great.” He barrels through his words, adjusting his tie, then he barrels out of the lab before you can even comprehend what happened. Did... did that just happen?

You gotta ask. “Friday, was he joking? Did Tony Stark just ask me on a date?”

Friday is supposed to keep Tony’s secrets... but she’s also supposed to act in his best interests. That’s what friends do... or at least, programmed AIs. “Sentiment analysis tells me he’s serious. Which makes a f*cking change.” Wow. When did Tony add those language mods?!

Well. Wow. That’s it then. You have a date with Tony Stark. On Friday. You. You didn’t think you were good enough for him, but clearly he has other ideas.

#sorry it’s long i can’t add a keep reading line #tony stark #tony stark x reader #tony stark headcanon #tony stark fluff #tony stark imagine #marvel #mcu #mcufam #iron man x reader #iron man headcanon #iron man #robert downey jr

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iwantitiwriteit · 5 years ago

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Slow Burn: Act I - Part 3

The Secret Session

Pairing: Chris Evans x Famous!Reader

Summary: There’s a secret audience member at your acoustic show.

Warnings: Profanity

Notes: Before you dive in, get in the zone with the moodboard + music specially curated to go with this part! Full of acoustic jams by a couple of my favorite artists. Read the previous part here.

The calm before the storm. That’s what the time before a performance is like for you. You politely demand minimal talking of anyone in the room, unable to help getting lost in thought before a show, often reflecting on the last couple years. Today is no different.

Honey, your song is on the radio!

Oh ‘cos you’re ‘famous’ now, you think you’re hot shit?

It’s not like you don’t have the money.

5 weeks at number 1 and counting!

I can’t believe how naive you’re being.

I can’t believe how jealous you’re being.

And the award goes to…

You won!

I thought you’d be happy for me.

I can’t do this anymore...

“So… that hangover of yours must be serious.”

You bring your eyesight from its fixed spot on the floor in front of you to look at Jimi. “What do you mean?”

“I mean you’re so lost in your thoughts, you didn’t hear me say ‘pancakes’.”

You whip your head around like a madwoman. “Pancakes?! Where?”

“Down girl. There are none. You fiend.”

“Then why mention it? Getting my hopes up like that…”

“‘Cos they’d go reeeealllly good with this obviously expensive, gourmet coffee someone named ‘CE’ sent you.”

“What?” You rush over to Jimi’s side and take the note from her hand.

“Mmhmm... cryptic ass note too. But I’m gonna guess not to you.”

Roses are red, coffee is brown. Boston’s known for tea parties, and I for putting my foot in my mouth. Forgive me? -CE

‘Brown’ and ‘mouth’? What a way with words, this guy. He really went through the trouble, though…

“Wanna tell me what you got up to last night? As your manager, I should know.” Jimi tilted her head and narrowed her eyes at you.

You cringed at the thought of recounting last night’s events. “Not really.” Throwing the note over your shoulder, you began inspecting the extravagant bouquet. “And I’m not hungover by the way. Just feeling— ugh, you know how I get before shows.”

“Nuh uh, sis. Now I’m pulling best friend rank. Hungover or not, you crept ya ass back into the hotel room close to 3 am KNOWING you had a show the next day, get sent coffee and flowers with cheesy apology notes by obviously rich randos, and on TOP OF IT ALL, are about to be away from me for what? 3 months?”

“4 months,” you reluctantly corrected her.

“4 MONTHS! And you REALLY THINK you’re not about to tell me what the hell happened last night? What do you think this is— Pretty Little Liars? Bitch, spill.” Jimi’s right… manager AND best friend. She deserves the tea… Why’d I give her this much power?

“Well…” Jimi takes a seat as you pace around, beginning to tell her about meeting Chris the night before.

“Chris Evans, Chris Evans? Like Chris motherfucking Evans?”

“Girl, yes!” you confirm.

You tell her about your stupid, potentially offensive joke.

“Ooooff. I’m not surprised, though, that’s on brand for you.”

“Ugh, I know— hey!”

You tell her how Anthony and Scott were obviously trying to set you up, and how Anthony was not helping the awkwardness you already established.

“Why, though??”

“Your guess is as good as mine.”

You tell her how things eventually turned around, you and Chris caught a little vibe, and that you were so sure he was flirting with you. How genuine he seemed, and how dreamy his eyes were, and—

“Wait a min—”

“Let me finish!”

Finally, you told her how you’d accidentally read Anthony’s text chain with Chris, and saw what Chris really thought of you.

“Well, damn.”

“I’m saying!” You breathe out exasperatedly as you sit down in front Jimi, leaning your head on her knee.“It's not that I thought we’d ride off into the sunset together or anything, but I just thought I’d read him as genuine. I don’t know… with all that’s happened the last few months, my judgment could really use a win.”

“Oh honey, I know. But what did I tell you? You—”

“We’re ready for you!” Saved by the stage manager.

“Looks like your stern talking to is gonna have to wait until after the meet and greet.”

“Immediately after. Have fun out there hun. Snatch some wigs!”

——————————————————————————

You didn’t see it, but last night Chris saw you enter the party. His breath hitched at the sight of you, dressed in all white, hair like a kinky-curly halo around your head. An actual angel. Somewhat dressed down from the other ladies in the party, but clearly confident and comfortable in your own skin, made you stand out to him. His mesmerization was interrupted by voices calling out in the distance. It was a couple of the younger actor boys, and he watched you chat with them.

Chris looked away when his phone dinged indicating he received a text. It was from Mackie, asking if he was ok. Can I catch a break? He exchanged texts, but wanted to return his gaze so badly to the sneakered beauty that caught his eye. When he looked up, you were gone, and he panicked a little. He finally found you outside on the rooftop patio, dancing provocatively… with Scott?

Chris made his way over to you, Scott, and Mackie. He admired the way you talked expressively about who-knows-what, but your animated faces amused him. When he got to you all, introductions were made; you’re an actress, soon making your film debut alongside his brother and friend. He tries to make small talk with you, but somehow finds himself being joked on for his own film debut, and he’s slightly returned to his sullen mood. I’m not in the mood for this. It’s always too good to be true, huh?

Alone with you at the bar, though, something happens, you change his mind— or rather confirm and further his initial intrigue. The two of you talk, laugh, and dance with each other for the better part of the evening, often catching yourselves gazing smittenly at the beautiful stranger opposite of you. He thinks that you're funny, smart, and confidently awkward. Chris appreciates your realness and was never more glad he came out despite his previously funky mood.

Unfourtunately, there was another change, a sour one. You’d seen Chris’ blind judgments of you. FuuuuUUUUUUcccckkk. He’d sent those texts before he’d even met you, ignorant to you being the musician that his brother and friend were trying to set him up with— they’d done a good job of making sure of that after he expressed his disinterest. But you didn’t know that, and believed that what he texted was truly what he thought of you after enjoying each other’s company all night.

Chris was embarrassed to say the least. He went to the bathroom to hide his shame. I finally, FINALLY hit it off with someone, and possibly blew it because I just HAD to choose this ONE time to be colorful in my word choice. I gotta make this right.

As quickly as he could, he’d gotten together a demonstration of remorse: a beautiful bouquet of roses and some gourmet coffee, a call back to the quips you shared last night, sent to your green room. He wasn’t sure what to say on the note, but remembering how much of a jokester you are, he went the cheesy, comical route, and prayed it went over well. Chris could’ve left it at that, but no, my curiosity had to get the best of me.

Just like you hadn’t seen him watching you last night, you hadn’t seen him watching you today. Today, however, he’s not the only one watching you. This isn’t qualified as stalking, is it? God, I hope not. Appropriately anxious and tucked in the furthest corner of the small, but packed venue, clad in a baseball cap, hoodie, and sunglasses, Chris heavily reconsidered his spur of the moment decision of coming to see your acoustic performance. Any chance of leaving was now gone as the lights dimmed and the presenter came on stage.

“In the last 2 years following the release of her debut album, today’s artist has taken music by storm! She’s had a #1 song in the country for 10 consecutive weeks— graced the covers of Rolling Stone and Vogue— top-billed major music festivals like Lollapalooza and Coachella. She’s even cleaned up at the Grammys this year and then gave the most talked about performance.” Damn… do I really live under a rock? “iHeartRadio, give a warm welcome to…”

Applause erupted as you joined your band on stage, taking your spot behind the microphone. You greeted the crowd with a shy smile and introduced the first song. “This… is ‘Stroke’.” The crowd erupts again around Chris, all in on what’s in store, leaving him the only one in the room unsure of what to expect.

Chris is mesmerized by your voice and amused by your quirky dance moves. But he feels conflicted, knowing that similar moves were done with him last night on the dance floor. When you danced together, it had felt like the two of you were in your own little world, but seeing you onstage sharing some of that with an entire audience made him feel a little… insignificant.

Your lyrics are smart, raw and moving and the instrumentation is captivating even in its stripped back state. Chris doesn’t think he’s ever heard music like yours before. He’s surprised by the subtly aggressive and sexual nature of it, considering how awkward and goofy and cute you were with him. However, he loves watching your outright confidence, your assertiveness, in action on stage. Wow, she’s fucking amazing!

“... thank y’all! Um… this next one is a cover of a song I’m sure you know and love.” The guitarist starts the iconic riff of Aaliyah’s ‘Are You That Somebody?’. Chris is taken back to hearing this song at many parties in his younger years where he mindlessly *and drunkenly* danced to the upbeat production. But hearing you sing it today, a little slower and a lot more vulnerable, the lyrics hit him differently.

“Oh boy, see I’m trusting you with my heart, my soul

I probably shouldn’t let you but if I

If I let you know

You can’t tell nobody, I’m talkin’ ‘bout nobody

I hope you’re responsible

Boy I gotta watch my back, 'Cause I’m not just anybody”

He’s reminded of your comments last night.

“Don’t you ever feel like you can’t tell people’s intentions? Like, you can’t tell if someone wants to be around you for you or… for what they think they’ll get in return. It’s just easier to stay in your own, comfortable bubble sometimes. I don’t know…”

She probably thinks I was trying to take advantage of her. God, I’m so stupid sometimes!

At the end of the set, there’s a round of deserving applause and cheers for you, and you beam at the crowd, thanking them. Chris can’t help but feel strangely proud of you; he barely knows you, but can tell you love what you do and give your all to it. He admires that.

When the lights come up and the presenter joins you on stage, Chris takes that opportunity to slip out early so as not to be caught in the rush of everyone leaving, risking him getting recognized. He gets his phone out to let his driver know he’s coming down and to meet him around the corner, hoping this will keep them from tipping off paparazzi. He then opens his music app to download all your music. It’s official: I’m a fan.

——————————————————————————

“Alright everybody, if you have tickets for the meet and greet… “ the presenter gives announcements as you leave the stage. Being the attentive performer you are, you noticed a tall, enigmatic audience member leave early. Normally you would’ve gently called them out, but something stopped you. A familiarity of the figure, the stature, the walk.

Your breath catches in your throat at the thought of who it could be. You start towards the green room to prepare for the meet and greet, although your swirling thoughts cause you to make little to no strides in that direction. What if it is Chris? Why would he come today? Was he really sorry? Or was he just bored and looking for a good laugh?

Adrenaline rushes you and you head in the direction of where the figure had gone. You scan the room and spot them, stomp up behind them, ready to have some words.

“Hey! HEY!” You reach and yank their hoodie off, “WHAT’D YOU THINK OF THE show…” your voice trails off at the sight of a toupee hanging in the pulled down hood, and the figure turns around. Shit.

“¡¿Qué mierda estás haciendo?!” The Spanish speaking stranger is loud, bald, and clearly pissed.

“Lo siento,” you offer with a sheepish smile and shrug, then turn on your heels and scurry off, slightly embarrassed by the scene you’d caused.

“What the hell was that?” Jimi asked with wide eyes. “Not what I meant when I said ‘snatch some wigs’!”

“I thought that was Chris…”

“You thought an extremely famous, A-list actor, who barely flirted with you last night, and clearly doesn’t think very highly of you, risked pestering paps and mobbing fans to go out of his way to come to your set today?”

“Well, when you put it like that…”

“And if it was? What were you gonna do?”

“I… didn’t think that far.”

“You didn’t think at all. Listen, I get that you’re hurt—“

“I’m not hurt! Ok… That’s not me. I don’t get hurt.”

Jimi sighs, softening her eyes and speaks at you with tough love and concern. “Whatever it is you’re feeling, you can’t let him or any other industry guy get in your head like this. Your career’s finally taking off like you wanted, and your personal life is less in shambles than it was a while ago. If you want everything to continue going in the right direction, you gotta get focused! You’ve got a movie role to slay! And many more amazing opportunities waiting for you after that because you made it all happen. I want you to remember that this next chapter is about focusing on what’s right for you, professionally and personally. Do NOT bring in the bullshit from the last chapter.”

It’s your turn to sigh. “But, I—“

“Aht-aht! No excuses. Are we clear?” You simply nod because there’s not much you can say. All you can do is mentally make a promise to yourself to not let any guy get you besides yourself, that you will be willing and ready for great things to happen to you. Jimi’s right… again! Dammit, I hate when she’s right.

Part 4

#chris evans fanfiction #chris evans fluff #chris evans imagine #chris evans x female reader #chris evans x poc!reader #chris evans x reader #chris evans x woc #chris evans x y/n #chris evans x you #slow burn series #chris evans one shot #chris evans series

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recurring-polynya · 5 years ago

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I have joked in a couple of my longer fics (Call Me Back When the War is Over and There is No Bankai in Football) about Rose and Kira co-writing a restaurant review column in the Seireitei Bulletin. AO3 user Borntobewilde dropped me the comment:

“Okay now, I'm crying EXTRA hard that I missed your drabble request on tumblr because this is what I would have requested for sure! I love the new 3rd division so much!!!”

How could I say no?!

I started working on this earlier in the week, spent three days trying to puzzle out what deep and interesting observation I wanted to make on the Izuru - Rose relationship and then gave up and made them review the awful waffle place Rukia and Renji like to go to when they’re hungover. Enjoy.

PS: Berry’s is some sort of Denny’s rip-off where the Karakura kids hung out in The New Captain Shuusuke Amagai Arc, obviously it imprinted deeply on my brain. I could never make something like that up.

You can read this and my collected drabbles on AO3 or ff.net

Gourmands Abroad! Romantic Tales of Flavor and Adventure

By Outoribashi “Rose” Roujuurou

With Kira Izuru

I would take a moment to remind my readers that I, your devoted restaurant critic, lived for many years in the Living World, and have, unfortunately, actually dined at “Berry’s”, the horrific excuse for an eatery from which the Seireitei Waffle Hut draws its inspiration. It fulfills a very specific niche in dining culture, namely providing cheap, Western-style mostly breakfast-specific sustenance for teenagers in the wee hours of the morning. The kindest thing I can say for it is that it is always open.

The Seireitei Waffle Hut makes a concerted effort to duplicate this experience to the greatest degree possible, from the formica tables to the affordable pricing to the possibility of adding whipped cream to literally any of the menu items. My co-reviewer, in his usual mischievous way, tried to coax me into ordering a bowl of chili with whipped cream. I declined.

Let me take a moment to discuss the titular waffles. I will not prevaricate. They are excellent. They are large, fluffy and crisp. They are the dimensions and texture to adequately be pressed into service as a futon. One should absolutely not order anything at this restaurant that is not the waffles. They are available with a wide variety of fresh fruits, nuts and flavored syrups. There is a special wall of the restaurant honoring the patron who has consumed the most waffles in one sitting, and her record was seventeen, a number as awe-inspiring as it is disturbing. (For various reasons, I was discouraged from printing the name of the person who holds this dubious distinction, but my long-suffering co-reviewer-- whom I had been led to believe had not previously patronized the Seireitei Waffle Hut-- revealed to me that he actually witnessed this gastronomic feat and that it was, in his words, “absolutely horrifying.”)

Speaking of my dear companion, I encouraged him to order a hamburger, as he had never had one before, and I wished to experience the reaction of a man eating a hamburger for the first time. As hamburgers go, it did not appear to be anything special, although perhaps this was merely authenticity, as Berry’s is also not known for their gourmet beef. His reaction, dear reader, was exquisite. He picked it up. He hefted it. “I do not like holding this,” he noted. He took a bite. He put it down again. “I have eaten a hamburger,” he declared. “It was excessive.” He did not take any further bites. As if all of this were not enough, he then ate a single soggy French fry and made the saddest face I have ever seen a person make. I wish that all of you could have been there to witness this with me.

Confidential to MK: The “Roundup Burger” appears to have exactly the same hideous sauce as its Living World counterpart, you may dine in satisfaction. Tell your lieutenant that the “Birthday Cake Pancakes” are also a menu option, although I could not bring myself to verify their authenticity. Which of your lieutenants you tell this to, I leave to your own discretion.

Alas, for myself, I ordered the unfortunately named “Up ‘n At ‘Em Combo”. I ordered this, not because I have ever in my entire life awoken into a state that I would describe as “Up ‘n At ‘Em”, but because it contained a large sampling of most of the menu items: rubbery eggs, limp bacon, hash browns that had spent far too long in the freezer before being reconstituted. The pancakes were not a total affront, but they seemed lackluster while we still had waffles on the table, available for consumption. Exclusive tip! The “syrup” provided at the table is artificial sugar water, foul and beneath our dignity as epicures. Real maple syrup can be had by beseeching the waitstaff. Kira tells me we have Lt. Anonymous-Waffle-Eating-Champion to thank for this key piece of information, apparently, so thank you, my dear, on behalf of my readership. Slathering my entire plate in this miracle goo did not make it good, but it did make it edible.

I cannot leave the topic of the Seireitei Waffle Hut without addressing the availability of that currently trendy Living World beverage, coffee. It is available. There are free refills. It is not coffee. I can only assume they obtain it by murdering coffee in the Living World, performing konsou, and serving the ghost of coffee here in Soul Society. I did enjoy watching my brave co-reviewer consume five cups of this vile brew over the course of his meal and vibrating his way through the rest of his workday.

The Seireitei Waffle Hut also offers acceptable milkshakes, which one can order to-go. In exchange for being, once again, the best of sports, I treated my co-author to a strawberry one, mostly because I enjoy watching him fail to use straws. Reader, it was adorable. Kira reports that it was worth it.

Seireitei Waffle Hut

Block 57, Building 4

Slackwater Lock Ward

Seireitei

Price: $

Rating: 1 star out of 5

#my writing #bleach fanfiction #izuru kira #rose otoribashi #seireitei bulletin #i agree with absolutely nothing in this #i love a shitty diner #if the mysterious waffle eating champion is a mystery you have simply not read enough of my work #I WROTE SOMETHING!!!

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five-miles-over · 5 years ago

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‘Gladiator’ Characters as Brunch Foods

(Disclaimer: I do not own any of these characters or images. This is just a fun listicle, not designed to offend anyone. Yes, I know many of these breakfasts were not invented during the Roman Empire. This is just a list of which ones they might be suited for. Without any further ado, please enjoy!

As always, please feel free to leave comments and/or constructive criticism below. Thank you!)

Maximus: Oatmeal

Aside from my Maximus-is-boring conviction, oatmeal is considered to be one of the most healthiest breakfasts (even though it truly isn’t).

It reminds me of Maximus because of his holier-than-thou attitude towards Lucilla and Commodus, which is not unlike how oatmeal claims to be better than other breakfasts.

I don’t imagine Maximus putting anything on his oatmeal (because he’s boring!) but I don’t know - maybe I’ll be merciful and hope one day he decides to put some fruit or honey.

Lucilla: Yoghurt Parfait (next to her Bellini of course.)

Just like a yoghurt parfait, Lucilla has many layers to her. While we first meet her as the princess of Rome, we are introduced to her many sides throughout the film: a loving daughter, a determined conspirator, and of course a dear sister.

In addition, yoghurt parfaits may look healthy, but with the right amount of honey and sweet yoghurt they could be more sugary than a pastry.

For Lucilla, I’ll paraphrase the Emperor’s quote - I would not want to be the enemy of this intelligent, powerful member of royalty.

Marcus Aurelius: Frittata

For those of you who don’t know what a frittata is, it’s an egg-based Italian dish that is like a tart but with no crust. Combined with meat and vegetables, it’s a brunch dish fried over low heat.

I think it’s perfect for the war-weary Caesar looking for some warm comfort in the form of a hearty dish and maybe a hug from his loving, strong daughter.

Lucius: Crumpets with Jam and Butter

These little English breakfast cakes are perfect for the pint-sized darling from Gladiator. Always delightful and irresistible, there is nothing wrong with a crumpet with butter in the morning.

I can picture Lucius peacefully spreading marmalade or strawberry preserves on one of these while his family is unsuccessfully trying to break the tension at the table.

Senator Gracchus: Avocado Toast

Avocado toast, unfortunately, has a reputation for being a ‘pretentious’ and ‘overrated’ food (aka it has been considered ‘bougie’).

Unlike this stereotype, the Senators are actually pretentious and a little overrated. Elected to represent the people of Rome, these members of the government seem to be a little too elite to understand the problems of the commoners (as pointed out excellently by Emperor Commodus.)

On that note though, I do confess to eating avocado toast at least three times a week. My apologies to anyone who likes avocado toast - it’s actually really tasty and a perfect option for vegetarians & vegans.

Quintus: Toast Soldiers

Toast soldiers is just an informal name for strategically-cut pieces of toast served with a soft-boiled egg. These thin pieces of toast were said to be similar to soldiers in a parade. Typically, one would eat this by dipping the toast into the yolk of the egg, which would be somewhat runny.

I didn’t choose this dish solely because of the name, although I do think General Quintus would like his breakfasts to be immaculate and organized like his troops.

Proximo: Oysters Rockefeller

This is a rather unconventional brunch option, but in the U.S. it can be found in several upscale restaurants as an appetizer. These baked oysters are topped with a rich, butter-based sauce with herbs and breadcrumbs & garnished with lemon.

Proximo would certainly like these in the late morning, slurping these as he counts the money he made from yesterday’s gladiator games.

Juba and Hagen: A traditional English Breakfast

I don’t usually combine characters in a listicle, but I think this choice was just perfect for the both of them.

Also known as a ‘fry-up’, this breakfast is perfectly wholesome - just like these two characters, whose presence honestly make for some pretty good scenes in this film. It is obviously more than what the gladiators are fed in the film, but they really deserve it after all they’ve done.

Emperor Commodus: Eggs Benedict with a Bloody Mary on the side

As you know, I always save the best for last.

Eggs Benedict is an American breakfast dish consisting of two toasted English muffins topped with poached-eggs, ham or bacon, chives, and Hollandaise sauce (egg yolk, melted butter, and lemon juice).

The main reason I chose this dish for our Emperor was because of its complexity to make, but also I chose it for its history. This dish was invented in New York in 1894 when a hungover customer ordered the ingredients (toast, sauce, bacon, poached eggs). As many chefs adopted the dish, it became more gourmet over time and now is considered a luxurious item on menus.

And the Bloody Mary? Not only might it be similar to something Emperor Commodus might be muttering after a long meeting with the Senate, but this vodka-based cocktail might just be the perfect thing after a long night of wine and concubines (it is designed to be a hangover cure!) ...or reading papers from the Senate.

#gladiator 2000 #commodus thirst squad #commodus headcanons

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shewhowillnotbenamed1 · 5 years ago

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An Opening

@ravenfan1242 I had been meaning to write your WallyRae - this is finally done! I never wrote an AU like this or for Kid Flash/Raven. I hope you enjoy! Thank you so much for the lovely Valentine’s Day WallyRae fanart!!!

Prompt List

@ravenfan1242 WallyRae Fanart

———————-

A disembodied arm sprang open an office, and stole the living wits straight out of the occupant, who until that moment, was lunching alone. A plastic spoon hovering within range of an agape mouth. “I thought I smelled something delicious.” Her shocked cobalt blue examined the intruder who then asked, “what’s on the gourmet today?”

“Um…soup.” Raven said to the bowl tightly. “Just soup.”

“I like soup.” The redhead remarked, holding the door frame above and angling his body towards the desk. “Did you make it?”

Sprinkles slid off the spoonful steadily. “Microwaved it.”

“Close enough, right?” He grinned. The kindness of his blue-green eyes shone even in the sparsely lit room, its single window covered in slats.

“Right…” She mumbled. A limp noodle nose-dived off the cutlery and plopped back into the lukewarm pool. “Cooking adjacent.” Which was as close to the act as Raven was willing to stand.

A wide breadth was generally best.

“Exactly what I always say.” He agreed. “Although… it certainly smells homemade, Raven.” Why was she blushing? Why was his mention of her viscous broth - located somewhere on the borderline between piss and dishwater - making her forget how to think straight? The lull was disturbed when freckled fingers rapped on her door in a rapid staccato. “I’ll see you later?”

She nodded weakly. “Later.” With that, he went whistling on his way.

With bright smiles and even brighter hair, Wally was unreal. Whether he stopped by her office unexpectedly, saw her in the kitchen, or spotted her in passing, he had this tendency or - compulsion - to talk to her. Even if it meant he had to race over to her and abandon someone mid-sentence, he would find his way to her side. Though he only started weeks ago, he had a presence that elicited eagerness, instead of her general indifference.

The day they met, something strange happened - she forgot to bring in her thermos of tea to work. She stopped in the kitchen on each floor, before she went up a total of five flights - to the sole coffee machine in operation. The machine beeped scarlet - angry accusations; it demanded to be cleaned before servicing anyone else. A not-so-office-friendly phrase threatened to slide from her lips at the sight of a hand swiping the final steaming cup of liquid - the proverbial straw.

“Just my luck.” She sighed to herself. An office building without a working coffee machine was one with cruel working conditions.

The new owner of the wax paper cup turned to her. “I’m sorry, did you need coffee?” Perhaps he was sympathetic, but likely he heard the desperation in her voice, the sheer panic of taking on Tuesday without a cuppa.

“No…tea.” Raven corrected the redhead. “Coffee doesn’t do it for me.”

“What a coincidence!”

She believed it.

Apparently, he already had a superabundance of energy. A voice that was less jarring, explained. “Coffee makes a bit hyperactive - or more so.” His lips turned up cheekily. “Would you like mine? It’s herbal. Mint.”

“Really, I couldn’t.” But the man didn’t hear of it, he grabbed another paper cup and unloaded an even amount.

“We’ll share - you can make it up to me by telling me your name and department…” He could see she was befuddled. “I’m Wally West - I’m new.” His skin radiated charges through the handshake, it lingered on the cup he passed to her.

“Raven Roth… Human Resources.” On a typical day, she had few direct interactions with others, but she wanted to interact with him.

That week, they spoke every day. She tried to put her finger to the pulse of it, but couldn’t surmise.

It was easy to attribute her attraction to the dashes of freckles, flaming tresses, and feistiness, but it was more than that. There was a gravitational pull drawing her to the western hemisphere. It was saturated with sun. It was offbeat and unique, and…fun. With that chance encounter, work life changed for the better. So even though Raven hardly ever did herself, the days of routine nine to five took their own, well-deserved time-off.

———————-

Office parties and happy hours. These were social situations that had persisted through time, even though cocktails and coworkers were not meant to commingle.

And it was why, Raven didn’t know why she was attending this one. Frankly, she would much rather be in her own company than that of her tipsy boss and drunk coworkers, and other wasted strangers in the lowly lit bar. It was the most awkward thing in the world to witness their behavior while they bummed booze off the company dime.

The true reason she was here - it was mandatory. A mandatory, holiday party, the intention of which was to spend time socializing with coworkers in a low-stress environment. The aim was to avoid getting sloppy. Working in HR, she was aware. Though, others seemed to forget, they tended to get rowdy. Especially before their vacations.

Speaking of which.

“Man, you’re usually faster.” Pre-party rum was affecting speech patterns of the recent arrivals. “Happy hour awaits!”

“I know, we’re already so late.” That was definitely pre-party rum from someone’s cubicle closet.

There were other divisions here. Teams that were not as straight-laced as her own.

“Wally, you need to relax and get a drink - or two.”

He tipped his head, as spotted her by the bar. His steps were clumsy, eyes watery from the alcohol. At last, freckled cheeks, with their rosy halo freckled, wiggled out a hazy smile. The orange and blue bulbs above had gone paces past ambient lighting, to delve deep into clubbing territory. They were outside of work and outside the standard, watts of fluorescence she had grown accustomed to seeing him under. The palpitating in her chest appeared to agree. Raven didn’t know whether it was the drink she had been nursing, the thumping bass of played-out pop, or him in his gray button-down, with its rolled up cuffs showing forearms, tanned and strong.

“I hoped - you… to - night -” The shock of red bobbed, invitingly. Raven squinted and motioned to her ear. Oh - right! Wally mouthed. He pointed to a stool, Raven shrugged. She sipped quickly to hide her smile as he plunked down at her right.

And now…

At least five songs had gone, but Wally hadn’t left her side. Their bodies were tilted towards one another in the backless seats. He had given up shouting over the music to whisper directly into her ear canal. Each syllable was slow and slightly slurred - deep and deliberate.

“You look very nice.” Wally was referring to her black sheath dress. Though work-appropriate, it was tight and clingy. An unintended positive of the unseasonably warm weather, Raven had foregone tights. And Wally West clearly noticed.

“You know I’m in HR - that could be misconstrued as flirting,” She jabbed him with her straw. “But, you’re alright with me, Wallace.” When they were alone here with alcohol in the air she felt emboldened. To call him Wallace and scoot closer in her seat - to flirt about whether or not they were allowed to flirt.

“Misconstrued…?” His grinned went lopsided with nausea for a moment. “Oh - boy that booze.”

For a second, she placed a hand on his shoulder in a gesture that hopefully was innocent to any onlookers. “Wally, are you alright?”

“Yeah.” He swallowed, shakily. “I just… don’t drink - like ever.”

“Really - not ever?” The ink eyebrows shot up. “Why not?” Her upturned nose twitched.

“Ever run hungover?” Run? A pale hand’s push slid their glasses out of sight. “I run - marathons… One’s coming up next weekend, so I’m in the middle of training for it.” Wally chuckled pathetically or painfully.

She fingered her ebony tresses thoughtfully. Then she whispered, while leaning forward so her mouth brushed the pink, freckly orifice. “So then why…did you drink?”

Wally spoke near her cheek, the sharp, spiced-sugar whisked Raven’s nose. “Because I wanted a little liquid courage.” His queasiness had dissipated. “I… want to dance - will you dance with me?” He asked, as though it had only occurred to him moments ago.

Suddenly, she glanced at her surroundings. “Um, I…” They were alone, but not truly. And even if they were, this was still a work party. She sneaked a peek behind them. The darkened room was thinned out, over half the people had left. Those that remained were drunker and louder than the last. Could it be that it was safe after all?

“Raven?” Wally was following her line of sight. “Are you…looking for an out?”

“No,” She promised and placed her palm in his. “Let’s do it.”

“Do it?!” Wally gasped. “Why, Raven, I’m appalled!”

“Don’t you dare…” Her voice had suddenly gone dry.

“I thought you were in HR.” Wally continued. “Can I report someone in HR - to HR?”

She sighed into her smile. “Your jokes are still decent when you’re wasted.”

Right or wrong, it was best to be cautious. Raven felt more at ease when he took her to a secluded corner in the back. Her and Wally danced restlessly, waiting, with their bodies a ways apart. Unspoken, until they were the last ones left.

At last.

Turning in aimless circles, with her arms draped on his neck and his hands tight to her waist, they drew closer. With the party over, it was harmless. She and Wally had morphed into two individuals out on a Friday at the bar.

The bar where booze laden blood overheated their bodies. Raven’s cardigan was torn off and the first three buttons on Wally’s shirt had come undone.

One song melded into another and another and another. Until one that played for their ears alone - it was one where rules of Human Resources, policies, and holiday parties could fall away like layers fallen between them.

———————-

Raven clicked open another email. One day was unending lull only for the one that succeeded to be filled with a billion urgent emails that all required her attention.

Today was one of those days.

Open Skype.

That was it. No subject. No greeting. No signature. And it was from one Wally West.

An involuntary smile began to slide across her skin as she clicked, wondering what this could possibly be about.

WW: 30 minutes. Me and you.

RR: I’m busy. What is this about?

WW: You’ll see. I’m signing off - so you can’t say no.

Wally appeared in her doorway no less than five minutes later. “Raven - up!” He commanded.

She shook her head violently. “I have a ton of work to do today. I can’t -”

Wally persisted. “Up. Up. Up!” He went around to pull her out of the chair. It made her remember their dances. She had to breathe carefully to calm herself. “You can squeeze in an hour for lunch.” Raven opened her mouth. “Microwaved leftovers or calcified bags of nuts from your desk drawer are not lunch.”

“Wally, please…” Raven she begged. She had to at least attempt a last ditch effort. “I should get this done.”

His red hair flopped over his face. When he straightened back up, he gave her a soft smile. “Trust me, it’s only an hour, and you’ll love it.”

“Okay.” She couldn’t say no to that - or to him.

He chatted with her animatedly for all five blocks until they arrived at a little bistro Raven had never been to, despite it being so close.

“Two tomato soups and two grilled cheeses, please.”

Simple, but classic, it was her favorite comfort food. When the waiter disappeared, Raven playfully shoved him. Wally grinned, appreciating how well he knew her.

True to his word, it was the best lunch at work she had ever had.

And after, they ran, with full-stomachs sprinted, arm and arm in their pea-coats. The uncooperative weather wafted their condensed breath out into the ether. The chill snapped their cheeks and noses, outlining them in pink as they raced on. He had vowed to get Raven to her office before an hour elapsed. But before they rounded the corner to the building, he stopped.

“Wally, come on.” Raven panted. “We have to get back - before -”

The experienced runner was hardly winded. His voice didn’t waver when he told her, “Raven, I don’t… Have to get back.”

“No. We all have an hour.” She exhaled, glancing at her watch for the time. “That’s the rule.” Her tone dropped a decibel, she conspired, pinching her forefinger and thumb. “I mean I’m supposed to say that, but you can push it a little…”

“Raven, I’m an independent contractor.”

Faintly, she wondered why he needed to mention that. “Meaning? You have a stricter deadline than I do -” He brushed a raven lock, tenderly gazing at her as he did so. “Wally…! What if someone sees you…”

“Today’s my last day, Raven.”

“What?” The pale girl ripped away, violently. “No." She bit out. Raven tried to slow and soften the harshness. "I… don’t understand.”

“My contract ended.” Wally explained. “And they decided not to extend it.”

“But,” She argued, knowing it was futile. “Surely there’s something we can do, or I can do.”

After all, what was the point of working in her department all these years? What was the point if she couldn’t help a friend?

“Raven, don’t worry about me.” He slid closer. “It’s alright, I’m needed elsewhere.”

“So that’s it.” Raven lifted her head.

“I’ll be packing up tonight…” Wally continued in a normal register. She wished he wouldn’t. “If you wanted to help…”

The wind picked up, night colored tendrils blew back in frigidity. The ice in the air surrounding her body was as cold as the ice overcoming her heart. It was painful enough that he was going. Leaving her. Helping to carry out the process would be cruel. “I don’t think I can do that, Wally.”

“I understand… But now, I can do this...” He eyed her closely. His bluish-green eyes memorized her face, at last, her lips. With enough films and sappy television in her repertoire, she knew what was next.

Two parted pillowy lips advanced, angling downward. Raven stood on her tiptoes, stretching her body to sun. His warmth drew her nearer to his atmosphere. This was it. The moment she had only dreamed of… She shut her heavy lids, just as his mouth, stung by the chill, veered…into her forehead.

“Let’s go back… to the office.”

The cool wind whistled and Raven was stung.

All over again.

“I’ll - meet you up there.” She stepped back. “I need a moment.”

As soon as he had disappeared out of sight, Raven started to walk. The other way. To the train. To go home. She felt sick after all.

A half day only seemed appropriate.

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