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scuttle-buttle · 3 years

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Chapter 8

WC: 1533

Rated: E

Chapter Tags: domestic fluff, anxiety, alcohol consumption

🧠

Tuesday afternoon had you and Laszlo working in his office. He sat behind his desk grading quizzes while you worked to transcribe one of his notebooks. Tchaikovsky played quietly over the bluetooth speaker he had on the bookshelf. You had once mentioned that he was your favorite composer, so Laszlo had taken to playing his work frequently during office hours.

Pausing to take a sip of the now-room temperature tea he had brought you, you notice a low humming noise. Turning in the chair you watch your doctor. His eyebrows are scrunched in concentration. He wears the little round reading glasses that make him look old-fashioned and sophisticated. He shakes his head lightly before marking an answer wrong on the paper he holds. But what strikes you most of all, is that he is softly humming along to the music in his deep baritone. He’s actually quite good with his pitch.

“I’ve never heard you sing.”

He looks up at you from over the spectacles. “Pardon?”

“You should sing more often, you have a lovely voice.”

A deep crimson blush spreads on the apples of his cheeks. Laszlo was not one to be embarrassed easily, but sometimes the most inconsequential or mundane things like this would do the trick. He opens his mouth to no doubt give a witty and defensive response when someone knocks on the door.

“Come in,” he states. He isn’t expecting anyone, but there is an essay coming soon so it wouldn’t surprise him if a student wants to get ahead on their planning. The heavy mahogany door clicks and swings open.

“Hello Laszlo. I thought it was about time that I made my way to visit you,” says a familiar feminine voice. Standing in the doorway is none other than Dr. Stratton.

Laszlo sat up and removed his glasses as she entered the office. In the busyness of the last few weeks he hadn’t made it a point to seek her out yet. “Dr. Stratton, hello. I must say it has been quite a long time.” He smiles at seeing her, eyes lighting up.

“Oh, Laszlo, there's no need for such formalities. I’m no stranger that you can’t call me by my name.” Karen waves her hand in a dismissive manner. She then turns in your direction with a smile. “And you my dear, I didn’t expect to see you here?”

“Ah, sorry Dr. Stratton, it must have slipped my mind last time - I’m a TA for uh- Dr. Kreizler.” You almost slip up and call him Laszlo, but catch your tongue at the last possible second. It doesn’t shock you that the two doctors know each other. They both worked in the same field and had lived in central Europe in overlapping times. You’re happy to see two people you think highly of reacquainted.

You miss the confused glance that Laszlo sports between yourself and Dr. Stratton. The two of you obviously knew each other, but how? Karen had been in Vienna for years. Why would she know who you were? How small a world was it that his previous romantic partner and current one knew each other? His curiosity gets the better of him. “Forgive me, but are you two acquainted?” he asks.

“Yeah, I had Dr. Stratton my freshman year for intro psych. I told you about it on my first day, don’t you remember?”

“She was a fantastic student, Laszlo. You would have loved having her in one of your classes. She always had such well thought out ideas to contribute.”

He at least has the decency to look sheepish when he admits that it must have slipped his mind. In truth he hadn’t paid you much attention the first day. He made the effort to learn your name and that was the extent to which he cared at the time.

Dr. Stratton pipes up again. “I only have a moment but I wanted to invite you for drinks later this week so we can catch up. I have some new ideas I’d love to share with you.”

“That sounds wonderful. Please let me know when you would like to and I would be delighted.” The prospect excites Laszlo. It really had been so long since he last spoke to Karen.

“Of course, I’ll see you then.” She nods to Laszlo and gives you a grin and a wave as she leaves. The door clicks behind her.

“Oh-hoo you’ve got a date Laz, should I be worried?” you tease.

He gives you a deadpan look before realizing you are joking. He gives a slight frown. “Karen and I are old friends and colleagues, nothing more.” And previous lovers, which he omits.

“Alright, loverboy,” you quip, turning back to the notebook and laptop.

He finds himself discomforted by your joke. Perhaps he should tell you about Karen… Nevertheless, he tramps down the feeling and gets back to work.

“So why was it that Laszlo couldn’t join us tonight? He was not very forthcoming in his message.” John asks as he sets down your drinks. The three of you were sat at a small corner booth at the tavern you frequented on Friday nights. The evening was young; only a few patrons were there playing pool and having a round.

“He’s out with another professor catching up. They haven’t seen each other in years.” You take a large swig of your lager, the hoppy flavor of the brew coating your tongue. “He almost didn’t go but I insisted that I would survive alone with you two,” you chuckle.

John looks at you over his own glass. “And did he say who he’s with?”

“Dr. Stratton from the psych department.”

“Oh. I see.” John shifts his gaze around, his features going awkward at the information. He makes brief eye contact with Sara before darting them away again. Sara purses her lips, her doe eyes giving nothing away. The tense pause stirs something within you.

“What?” John needles at your question, a slight downturn of his lips as if to say he wasn’t sure what you meant. Sara sips her drink and watches the encounter. “What are you not telling me?”

John scratches at his chin. Sara steps in this time. “It’s nothing, John is just up to usual worrisome self,” she tries to dismiss.

Her answer doesn’t satisfy you. “Please don’t take this the wrong way, but I’m not exactly inclined to believe you.” Facing John, you continue. “You look like you’ve eaten something that tastes horrible, you’re hesitant to look me in the eye, and you rubbed your jaw when I asked. You’re a terrible liar, John,” you accuse. You aren’t upset, but his sudden inability to speak causes anxiety to bubble in your gut.

He huffs. “You’re beginning to sound just like him, you know.” He quirks a brow at you, annoyed. “Laszlo and Karen have a… long history. As friends and colleagues, of course. They were very close for a while,” he tacks on. He wants to be forthcoming with you, but knows it isn’t his place to actually disclose Laszlo’s relationship with her.

“Oh.” you nod. Your anxiety begins to dissipate at the explanation. “I mean I’m not surprised by it, they both lived near each other for a while in Europe. I’m sure they ran in the same academic circles. Frankly, I’m glad he’s getting to catch up with her, he needs more friends than just us,” you laugh at Sara’s ‘cheers to that’ comment. “Anyways, how’s your week been?” you ask to change the subject.

The night comes to an end soon after; the tone shifted after you retired from the conversation about Laszlo’s absence. You caught a cab back to his home. He had given you a spare key in case you wanted to come over at any time, whether to study in peace or to just be there. He wasn't sure when he would get back, but he did ask for you to wait for him.

Getting ready for bed you chance a look at the clock. It was nearing midnight. Laszlo was still out, which was somewhat uncharacteristic of him, but you figure that he’s just got a lot to talk about with Dr. Stratton. You send a text to check in, but get no response.

As you lay in bed you find your thoughts wandering back to the conversation with John and Sara. “A long history; very close for a while…” plays on repeat in your head. You hadn’t thought anything of it at the time, but now it nags at you like a gnat swirling your head in the summertime. Surely nothing happened between the two? Laszlo would have told you. There’s no doubt he knew she was back, given that she’s in his department at the university. And you trust Dr. Stratton, she’s been a great support system and even a friend to you. If the two had been involved he would have let you know, you conclude. Besides, you and the doctor were happy, so even if they had been a thing at one point it surely wouldn’t matter now.

Right?

By the time you finally fall asleep Laszlo still hasn’t come home.

Tag list

@hardlyinteresting @lorna-d-m @livvyshmiv @somethingthatsaysbubbles @greeneyedblondie44 @unbeatablecurlgirl @apparrio @marchingicenotes7 @anteroom-of-death @bruhidaniel @lemairepstuff @thehuiabird @zemosimp05 @alindeluce @iamnotthecatladynextdoor @laura-naruto-fan1998 @trelaney @boneheadduluc @i-am-dead-inside-666 @fictionlandslanddreams @thatoneartgalsstuff @hb8301 @fandom-princess-forevermore @foggycandywitch @creme-bruhlee @andy-rocks

#psychopathia sexualis #the interpretation of dreams #laszlo kreizler x reader #laszlo kreizler #laszlo kreizler fanfic #the alienist #the alienist angel of darkness #daniel brühl #daniel bruhl #daniel bruhl laszlo kreizler #scuttle-buttle #daniel bruhl fanfiction

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furikakyo · 3 years

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a return to roots | 6

pairing: kita shinsuke x f!reader

summary: y/n is a rising star in the music industry, having almost everything you could have ever hoped for as a small-town country girl. now after releasing two triple platinum albums in consecutive years, you face the dreaded artist’s burnout… in order to recover, your manager suggests, you should return to your hometown in hyōgo for a long-deserved break.

genre: socmed/smau, slice of life

warnings/tags: timeskip!, mutual pining, slow burn? more like rekindling, slight canon divergence

masterpost

To say that your day wasn’t going as planned was an understatement. Although you’d known that you would have to see Kita that day, your mind had assured you that there were a couple hours until then. So to see him before that expected time…

You blinked, mouth opening and closing like the fish you’ve seen in koi ponds. “Oh. I didn’t expect you to be here…” You paused, and then pursed your lips definitively. If your mouth was shut then you couldn’t say anything else.

Kita gave you a lopsided smile. “I work here, remember?” His amber eyes twinkled as the sunlight caught them.

Your eyes trailed along the scene you’d been looking at previously. He didn’t just work here… he owned all of this. Stupid Kita, always selling himself short. Didn’t he know he was virtually perfect? Ah, right. You flushed, wondering if it was the embarrassment or the heat finally getting to you. Grabbing at anything to say, you blurted, “I was just admiring the view. Samu and I got here earlier than expected.” You wrung your hands nervously, then stopped. You didn’t want to seem nervous. “Um…” you said slowly, taking a step back, “it’s alright if you can’t accompany us right now. You’re probably busy.” You gnawed on your bottom lip. “Working the farm and stuff.”

“‘Us’?” Kita echoed, looking past you.

You chuckled nervously and scratched the back of your neck. It burnt with uneasiness, even more so when you remembered what you were wearing: an old oversized tshirt, shorts, and slides. You weren’t going to wear anything less comfortable on a road trip, you mind argued. “Yeah,” you mumbled, looking down, “Samu was with me but he got distracted. I was just looking around by myself.” After realizing that it could’ve sounded like you were trying to guilt trip Kita, you backtracked, waving your arms. “Not that that’s a bad thing!”

Your heart gave a gut-wrenching squeeze when he laughed softly at you. “It’s alright. If you’d like, I can show you around?”

You looked up from your hands, which had been busy wringing themselves into the hem of your shirt. “Ah! No,” you said quickly, “I’m totally fine on my own! I wouldn’t want to take you away from your work, either.”

You fiddled with a loose string on your t-shirt as Kita peered over at you, contemplative. “It’s ok,” he said after a pause, “I have time. And I want to make my way around anyways, so your timing couldn’t have been better.”

You stared at his back, speechless, as he began walking in the direction you’d been headed. Quickly, you picked your jaw up from the ground and clambered through the grass after Kita, who had slowed his pace so that you could catch up. Maybe if you hadn’t been so flustered you would’ve remembered that he had come from the direction you were now walking in.

If Osamu’s knowing stare when he’d eventually ran into you and Kita hadn’t been enough to make you internally crumple in on yourself, his suggestion for all of you to get dinner together was.

Not to say that his presence wasn’t welcome, though. When Kita hadn’t been speaking about something notable on the farm, it was silent for the most part, with you only dumbly repeating how nice it was. You hadn’t talked about anything more personal, like where you were in life now. It didn’t feel right just pretending nothing had happened; neither had starting off from where the two of you had left off. And it’s not like you could just say, “Hey, remember how a few years ago we almost dated but then didn’t which ended up kind of ruining our friendship? Let’s try to work through that now!” Kita was over it by now, unlike you, who’d just shoved everything into the back of your mind and hoped it wouldn’t ever be relevant again. This is what you get for neglecting it, you berated yourself, and yet when it came down to it, you weren’t sure whether it was the resigned silence between the two of you or the way that you felt the urge to act so impulsively— to hug him, kiss him, apologize to him— which was more frightening.

And that was how Osamu had found you, lost in your thoughts while walking with Kita and then somehow finding yourself sandwiched between the two in Kita’s pickup truck. I don’t have enough gas to drive us, Osamu had said while hiding a wicked grin, knowing damn well that you wouldn’t argue with him about it in front of Inarizaki’s former captain; that you wouldn’t beg Osamu to prevent you from getting into a car with Kita, not with him there to witness it.

You tried to avoid squirming in the middle seat of the front row, conscious of every minute brush against Kita’s sleeve or shoulder. Osamu snickered quietly, and you jerked your head to the side to glare at him heatedly. This is all your fault, your eyes seethed, or at least you hoped you could convey as much feeling into them as you wanted. You stiffened when Kita’s arm brushed against yours momentarily as he made a turn, and you lurched towards him. Osamu finally had the decency to help you out, grabbing your shoulder to prevent the collision.

You shot him another dirty glare and then stared out through the windshield just as you all pulled into the otherwise abandoned parking lot of the local bar. If you hadn’t come from Kita’s but instead your own childhood house, you would’ve walked like most other people did.

Immediately you dropped the gloomy atmosphere, eyes now shining. “Izumi and Kenji’s!” You hopped out of the truck from Osamu’s side and jumped up and down excitedly. “I haven’t been here in years!” you exclaimed, rushing forward. Your two companions trailed behind you, amused.

The bells on the door jingled as you opened it, at once having cold air rush at you. You sighed in contentment, the sweat on your brow already cooling off.

“Hello?” A matronly figure stepped out from behind the bar counter, a rag in hand. Just as her eyes landed on you, they brightened. “Y/N!” The woman tossed the rag onto a table and rushed over to greet you, holding your hands in her own excitedly. “When did you get back? How long have you been here? Are you staying at your parents’ house?”

You laughed and squeezed her hands before dropping them. “Hello, Izumi. I got back here a little bit ago and unpacked most of my stuff at the house. Any other questions?”

Izumi fired a barrage of inquiries while leading you to the bar counter, insisting that you sit on a stool. Osamu sat down beside you and Kita next to him. “—so glad you’re back. And Osamu, you too! You’ve gotten more handsome! I bet the girls and boys are flocking to you in Tokyo. How is the shop doing? And you too, Shin-chan! You don’t visit quite enough for someone that lives so close by!”

The three of you sat amiably and answered all of Izumi’s questions, small talk being made between you as she bustled in and out of the kitchen. “Yumie-chan told us you would be coming today, but we weren’t sure when! I think most people are going to be here, though, so just sit tight!” She brought out light beers and edamame to munch on in the mean time, and then a tray of salted nuts later.

Slowly, the eatery filled with more of the local residents of your hometown, all gathering around you. Izumi had insisted on moving your food and drinks to a long row of tables, which she had pushed together to make room for everyone. There had been a big influx of the field workers from earlier, who all greeted your group before settling down on the other end of the seating arrangement. More and more dishes were being put out, most of them now plates of food to share among the table. The mood was festive and there was never a quiet moment, always a conversation going on or some laughter. At one point even her husband Kenji had come out from the kitchen and managed a gruff ‘welcome’, garnering cheers from everyone. Your plate was never empty, aunties placing pieces of karaage, sides of spring cabbage, and more onto it. Your cheeks were tinted pink and your face glowed; you’d had a few beers, enough to make you feel all warm inside.

At last, after having eaten until you felt like your stomach was going to explode, Izumi brought out the final sides to accompany any of the remaining alcohol and then finally took a seat along with the women, who were asking questions about your new lifestyle.

“So why’d ya really come back?” One of the ladies asked curiously, the others leaning in forward to hear your response.

For a moment your grin faltered before you laughed again, taking a handful of salted nuts and then eating them one by one. “Oh, you know, just some burn out. I’ve been working nonstop the past two years. I thought I deserved a break.” You crunched down on some nuts, your jaw tense. The corners of your mouth felt tired from having to drag up all the time; the pleasant buzz from earlier was quickly dissipating the more they asked about this.

Another one of the women, an older one, said slyly, “Are you sure you didn’t return for any other reason?” Her eyes slid overtly towards where the men were sitting, near Kita. He had been nursing his drink, the same one he’d had all night. Kita had never been much of a drinker and he wasn’t going to drive while being drunk; he was too much of a stickler for the rules.

“I’m sure,” you said politely, gritting your teeth. You’d forgotten how nosy these old women could be. They all tittered to themselves, as if they knew something you didn’t, and then began talking of something else, leaving you to yourself. Your eyes caught Osamu’s, who raised his eyebrows questioningly before getting the message. He stretched his arms widely and then faked a yawn, not bothering to cover his mouth.

“Samu, you should head to bed, son,” Kenji said bluntly. “Yer tired.”

The twin nodded and looked to you and Kita. At that moment you didn’t have to fake a yawn, because you actually were exhausted. “We should go,” Kita agreed, “before I get too tired to drive us back.”

The three of you stood, causing a chorus of disappointed aws to ring out. “Ah,” you said, gripping the back of your chair to steady you. “I have something to say before I go.” Everyone at the giant table stared expectantly at you, and you remembered what it was like to have stage fright all over, as if you were just starting out again. Your throat tightened as you swallowed. “Um,” you said quietly, bowing formally and not making eye contact with a single person, “I would just like to thank all of you for taking such good care of my parents’ home. It’s because of you that I can move back in so easily. So thank you.”

After not hearing any sort of response, you peeked upwards. “Aw,” Izumi sniffled, wiping away a stray tear, “it’s because of you that we managed to stay open, ya know that, Y/N? You had no business giving us that much money for the restaurant, so it was the least we could do.” She jerked her head at everyone else. “And it’s not like we did it by ourselves; Kenji and I had help.” Izumi’s black eyes glittered. “Lots of help.”

You scuffed a foot, looking down again. Your cheeks and ears burned. But then you thought of the tatami mats at the house and the freshly dusted furniture, taken care of every week for years, and you shook your head. “Well, I didn’t need all that money.”

Osamu put a gentle hand on your shoulder. “Let’s go, Y/N,” he said quietly, and you nodded, following him and Kita out of the door as the others called out their goodbyes to you.

Everything that had happened that day hit you on the ride home, still sandwiched between the two men. At some point, tears had begun falling, with you trying miserably to cover them up. You weren’t sure if you were crying because you were disappointed by your reunion with Kita, or maybe if it was because tonight’s dinner had been one of the most fulfilling, the most happy you’d been in years. Your lips wobbled and you sniffled too this time, wiping at your nose with your arm. It had felt nice coming home to a table full of faces you recognized and the comfort of Izumi’s food, having people inquire about you solely because they cared.

“You could’ve given me some of that money too, y’know,” Osamu quipped, breaking the awkward silence. “And don’t wipe your snot with your bare arm, that’s disgusting. Health code violation.” Kita only chuckled as you elbowed the twin and argued with him, listening to the banter with a pensive look on his face.

a/n: hhHhH sorry this took longer, i had a really bad stomachache a few days ago which made me shit like 6 times in a day and then throw up 😩 and then after that i got addicted to genshin so

taglist (pm me to ask to be added): @papiibuprofen, @duhsies, @succulentmom, @kenmaslov3r, @introvertatitsfinest, @errorishere

some ~fun facts~

- kita WAS making his rounds on the farm, but was coming from the opposite side of you. meaning that after he ran into you, he retraced his path because he wanted to walk with you

- izumi is in her 60s. her specialty is cooking fried chicken (karaage) but she wants to learn how to pickle stuff

- kenji is izumi’s husband. he mostly works in the kitchen since he prefers to let his wife handle customers, even if 99% of them are locals

- izumi and kenji have been running their restaurant/bar since they were in their mid 20s 🥺 STOP THEYRE SO CUTE WHY AM I GETTING SO SENTIMENTAL OVER OCS

- y/n actually did give osamu money. so did atsumu. the two of them were actually the first investors for onigiri miya, right after the twins graduated high school, but osamu doesn’t know it because you had all of the legal stuff handled through a third party anonymously. you will ensure that osamu never finds out because he is prideful as heck lol

- y/n has some toxic traits (as do most people)

- there’s no love triangle with osamu or anything. strictly kita x reader 😤

#kita shinsuke #kita shinsuke x reader #kita shinsuke x you #kita x reader #miya atsumu #miya osamu #kenma kozume #kuroo tetsuro #suna rintaro #ojiro aran #haikyuu #haikyuu!!#farmer kita #inarizaki #haikyuu smau #smau #socmed

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omgrachwrites · 3 years

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Our Souls Crave This Magic- Chapter Three

Pairing: Prince Caspian x Reader

Summary: All you want is a quiet year of university as you and your best friend, Edmund move to New York City. Though, that all changes when you meet the spoiled trust fund brat, Caspian. College au.

Warnings: fluff, slow burn romance, enemies to lovers

Words: 2463

Disclaimer: This gif doesn’t belong to me,all characters are 18+

A/N: Literally just realised how many side characters I’ll have to put in this bc Narnia characters don’t work hahaha! Also, I know that Caspian’s parents are dead, omg Nathaniel Parker is his dad but in this they’re alive and well! Hope you guys enjoy and let me know what you think, please let me know if you would like to be tagged! I love you all! xxx

previous chapter masterlist next part

Chapter Three - An Odd Companionship

You were in heaven, or at least you were as close to heaven as you were ever likely to get as your eyes roamed over all the Halloween themed snacks. There were things that you’d hardly even heard of such as, pumpkin spiced m&ms and chocolate with candy corn in the middle. You loved Halloween, when you were in university in London; you loved to decorate your dorm room, even though 9 times out of 10 you’d be going out to a party. It seemed that Halloween was an even bigger thing over here in America so you knew that you had to decorate your loft apartment.

Glancing behind you, you laughed at the bored look on Edmund’s face; he looked over at you and scowled as he pulled a tongue at you. Lucy, on the other hand looked as excited as you felt, “ooh, marshmallow Oreos,” she grinned and her face lit up, “I should send some over to Susan,” she took a packet off the shelf and threw it into the cart.

Edmund groaned in frustration as he covered his eyes as he trailed behind, “I get why we’re decorating the loft, it’s a tradition and the both of you are obsessed. But, do we really need to buy all of the snacks?”

Ed wasn’t a fan of Halloween. Lucy gasped in horror as she placed her hand over her heart, she was so dramatic, “how can you even say that? These snacks trump the ones in England!” she scoffed at him before wandering down the aisle, intent on grabbing more snacks.

Ed carelessly flung an arm around your shoulders and you smiled up at him, resting your head on his shoulder. Then, your best friend dropped a major bombshell, “Caspian is coming over to help us decorate,” you groaned in frustration, receiving stares from strangers but you didn’t care.

You pinched your temples as annoyance shot through every inch of your body. It was the worst news that you’d heard all day, “jesus, Ed! Why does he have to come over?”

Ed smirked as he looked at you without sympathy, “I think that you’re forgetting, Y/N, just because you don’t like him doesn’t mean I can’t be his friend.”

“He called me a slut,” you pouted as you both caught up with Lucy, you were still sore about that fact.

Ed huffed out a deep laugh, “actually, he didn’t.”

“He didn’t have to, Ed! It was implied.”

Edmund rolled his eyes and lowered his voice so Lucy wouldn’t hear the conversation you were both having, “okay, maybe it was implied but trust me, he didn’t mean it. I think he feels awful about it actually.”

You scoffed as you looked away, wrapping your arms around yourself, he should feel bad, Ed stopped you by placing his hands on your shoulders, worry etched into every corner of his freckled face, “Y/N,” he sighed, biting his lip and you knew that he was trying to find the right words, “please don’t lie to yourself and don’t pretend that you liked Caspian before all that happened. Don’t bring what your dad did into this, Caspian is not the same.”

Edmund’s eyes were so intense and worried that you had to look away, all of the Pevensie siblings were there for you when your dad betrayed your family. And for that, you felt eternally grateful. But, you didn’t want to talk about your dad.

“I can see that you really care about Caspian but I just don’t share your judgement but I suppose for you, I can tolerate him,” you smiled, “even though he is the most insufferable person that I’ve ever met, I hope you know that I would never ask you to choose between Caspian and I,” you would never make your best friend do that.

Edmund laughed as he cupped your cheek, “well that’s a good thing because I really like Caspian,” he smiled when you frowned at him and tilted your head, “you’re my best friend, Y/N, if I had to choose between you and Caspian, I would always choose you.”

You laughed bashfully as you rubbed the back of your neck; you weren’t used to people putting you first. Before you burst into tears like a total loser, you pulled Ed into a hug, inhaling the fresh scent of his aftershave.

Later on that day, you and Lucy entertained yourselves by working your way through some of the Halloween chocolate as you decorated the loft. It had been a long time coming but New York was finally beginning to feel like home. Presumably, Edmund was off somewhere sulking, he wasn’t getting involved with the whole decorating thing but you wanted to go all out. You knew that you’d probably be working on Halloween, but the beauty of college parties was the fact that they seemed to go on all night.

As you were adding fake cobwebs to the corners of the kitchen, there came a quiet knock on the door. Your blood ran cold and you scowled to yourself when Ed answered the door and you heard Caspian’s soft melodic voice. Despite yourself, you peered over your shoulder to look at the handsome man as he grinned at Ed and ran his hands through his thick hair. You were surprised when you noticed that he was wearing a simple white shirt and jeans. You were almost fooled into believing that he was just like everyone else, but you knew the truth.

“Hi, Caspian,” Lucy shouted joyfully and you narrowed your eyes at her as she pulled him into a hug. What a traitor.

“Hey, Lucy,” you could hear the smile in Caspian’s voice and you rolled your eyes, “how are you?”

“I’m good thank you, I’m going to go and decorate the bedrooms, are you alright, Y/N?” you glanced back at Lucy who shot you a meaningful glance as she walked away.

Caspian bit his lip and looked at you from beneath his thick eyelashes, and you noticed that he had the decency to look guilty, “want any help, Y/N?” he muttered and you sighed, remembering the promise that you’d made to Ed.

“Sure, Caspian. You’re on skeleton duty,” you gestured to the plastic bones by the door, “don’t mess it up,” you teased.

Caspian smirked and you had to look away, he was so blindingly handsome in that moment, not that you’d ever admit it, “I’ll try not to.”

The both of you somehow managed to work in harmony for a little while until Caspian halted his movements and out of the corner of your eye, you saw him glance at you. You almost felt the burn of his eyes on your skin.

“Y/N,” he started and when you looked over at him you were surprised to see that his deep brown eyes were soft and a crease was forming in the middle of his forehead, “I owe you an apology; I didn’t mean what I implied the other week. I was in a bad mood, lack of sleep you know.”

You grimaced, it was your fault that he hadn’t got any sleep that night, “right,” you flushed as he walked behind you to grab some tape, the warm spicy scent of his aftershave washing over you, “I’m sorry about that.”

Caspian shrugged, “I think I was jealous too.”

His confession shocked you so much that you gasped and almost toppled off the chair that you were standing on. How was he jealous? “Jealous?” you squeaked.

Caspian’s eyes widened as he realised how it sounded and you could tell that he was trying to backtrack, “I swear, not in the way you think, it’s just, it’s been a while,” he flushed and you found that it was pretty endearing.

A frown graced your features as surprise wracked through your body, you hated Caspian but you weren’t blind to his attractive looks and mild mannerisms. Most girls would fantasise about him, “seriously?” you raised an eyebrow, “no park avenue princesses’ have won you over?”

Caspian let out a deep laugh that would reduce most people to a puddle, “nope,” he smiled as he picked up a can of silly string, “although I’m flattered that you’re surprised, even if you don’t think much of me.”

Caspian’s voice was teasing but you still kind of felt guilty, if you were being truthful, it wasn’t all that personal because you hated everyone like him, it didn’t matter who they were. People who had too much money and not enough sense got on your nerves.

“Trust me, Caspian I have my reasons for not liking you.”

Caspian touched your elbow gently as he walked past you, “I wish you would tell me what they are, because I know that you’re hiding something, Y/N.”

You wouldn’t open yourself up to Caspian, no matter how many sweet smiles that he shot your way. There was no way that you were going to be allying with your enemy; Hell would have to freeze over first.

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A couple of weeks later, Caspian was sitting in the living room of Edmund’s loft apartment with his text book open on the coffee table. The words in the text book in front of Caspian seemed to swim before his tired eyes, the young man groaned as he rubbed his hands over his face as his head began to throb. He glanced over at Edmund who was fast asleep with his cheek sticking to the paper of his essay with his mouth agape. Caspian chuckled and looked over at the clock; it was a little past 2 in the morning.

Caspian was glad that Ed had suggested that they studied at his apartment, Caspian had had a row with his housemates, they were some of his closest friends but lately, they were pissing him off. Caspian stretched his tired muscles, he needed to finish this essay but they had run out of coffee a little over an hour ago. He stood from the couch, fully intent on grabbing some more coffee when he saw that Y/N’s bedroom light was still on and the door was slightly ajar.

Biting his lip, Caspian decided to ask her if she wanted anything, he’d feel bad if he didn’t at least ask. He swallowed and peeked his head through her open door and he was awe struck with what he saw. Y/N had her back to him and she was painting a beautiful landscape of a castle in ruins, surrounded by mountains and an ocean. It was so hauntingly beautiful.

“Y/N?” he called out softly and she jumped as she was startled and she whipped around to look at him.

“Caspian?”

“I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to disturb you, I was going to go and grab some coffee, do you want anything?”

Her lips parted slightly, like she was surprised that he’d even ask, her eyes were downcast for a second as she fiddled with her fingers. Caspian had never seen such a look on her face before, it seemed that she was in fact, human, “would you mind it if I came with you?”

“Oh!” Caspian exclaimed, gobsmacked that she wanted to go with him but she looked a little upset, maybe she needed a break, “sure, Y/N. Of course.

Y/N smiled tightly at him as she grabbed her distressed leather jacket before following Caspian into the main part of the loft. As soon as she saw the state that Ed was in she giggled, shaking her head. Her laugh was a pretty sound when it wasn’t directed at Caspian’s expense, “someone couldn’t cut it, huh?”

Caspian laughed at the smirk on her pretty face as they walked out into the cold night together, it was an odd companionship, “did you need a break or something? That’s the only reason I can think of as to why you would actually spend time with me willingly,” he teased and Y/N laughed as she bumped her shoulder against his.

“I sure did need a break; my art assignment is really kicking my arse.”

Caspian bit his lip and decided to try his luck, “is that what you were painting. From where I was standing, it looked beautiful.”

Almost at once, Y/N tensed up and her face grew stoic which was a shame, “thank you but um, no that’s something else,” she ran a hand through her messy hair but she didn’t elaborate.

“What was it?” Caspian asked with interest, they were actually having an adult conversation and he didn’t want to stop now.

Y/N scoffed as she gave him the side eye, “nice try, keep dreaming, pretty boy.”

Caspian chuckled as he held up his hands in defence, “can’t blame a guy for trying.”

As they were walking down the dark high street, Caspian internally groaned they ran into a family friend who was leaving a bar, he was completely insufferable. Why the hell was he in a bar in Brooklyn? Michael smirked as he looked from Caspian to Y/N, if Y/N thought that Caspian was an arrogant trust fund baby then he was nothing compared to this guy.

“Hello, Caspian, you’re out late, it definitely looks like you’re slumming it but I never would have believed it,” his lip curled when he noticed Caspian’s NYU jumper and Caspian’s blood boiled in anger. Michael raised an eyebrow as he looked over at Y/N, “at least you’re slumming it with a pretty girl.”

Y/N let out an angry breath as she glared at Michael, “watch it, wanker.”

Michael grimaced, his blue eyes cold and lifeless, “interesting, a mouthy British girl,” he let out a nasty laugh as he patted Caspian’s shoulder. Caspian clenched his jaw, he so wanted to punch Michael in his smarmy face, “make sure you call your mom.”

“Are you alright, Y/N?” Caspian lowered his voice as Michael pushed past them.

She nodded but she looked angry, angrier than Caspian had ever seen here, “what an arsehole. How do you know him?” she gritted her teeth as she glared at Michael’s retreating back.

“Family friend unfortunately, I have to put up with him,” Caspian muttered, distracted when his phone vibrated in his pocket, he sighed in frustration when she saw it was a text from his mum. What the hell was she doing up at this time? Did she have eyes everywhere or something?

‘Just because you haven’t been in touch with me sweetie, doesn’t mean you can get out of the wedding at the end of November, I hope you haven’t forgotten. Evelyn says that she hasn’t heard from you in a while, sort it out, Caspian x’

Caspian scowled as he angrily shoved his phone back into his pocket, talking to Evelyn hadn’t been a part of the deal. Not yet anyway.

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

@smiithys @elayneblack @amelie-black @generalblizzarddreamer @blackbirddaredevil23 @whiskeywinter89 @graciehams

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suzus-bunkbed · 2 years

Text

INFOS AND MASTERLIST

Hello! I’m (ne)suzu and welcome to my space! I post random crap, talk about my hyperfixations and try to write!

More stuff under the cut! 🫐🍓🫐🍓

Info:

🇵🇭 | INFP | aquarius | asexual | she/they

DMs: are open, you can chat me anytime—i will try to reply asap, still be respectful—it's human decency | my asks are also open

Fandoms (actively):

Marauders era, Good Omens

Socials:

Ao3

Tiktok

Pseuds:

(coming soon!)

School, Office work and Other Things

Hogwarts University has it all, from the educational system and course ranges; the workers; even the principal is out of this world—all in a good sense. Remus is glad he got accepted, finally teaching what he dreamed of ever since he was young. Among other things, he didn’t really expect something out of the box would happen.

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Coincidence Is An Understatement

Remus was in great need of money. There's no shame in that, everyone needs it. He just have to do that damn modelling job to save up money for his debut novel publishing fees. That's it. Who knows what would await him as he go through his life, anyways?

They're so pretty, it hurts

If anything, Lily wants to be firm in everything she does. Trust her when she says she’s going to do something, trust her with her words, mortals and advices. Yet everyone is human, fragile in all their own skin. So here’s the thing, Lily Evans is a weak person, always filled with confusion and the pressure of doing what was expect. To which let’s go back, at least, trust her about her feelings towards Mary Macdonald, but don’t trust her when she says she doesn't, she does—ever since.

tags: mutual pining | love confessions | fluff (?) | internal conflict

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Canine Problems

Sirius and Remus finally had the opportunity to have Harry to live with them after the huge ordeal with Peter Pettigrew. And while Sirius is at the Ministry trying to prove his innocence, Remus was determined to be ready in answering some of Harry's burning questions but he didn't expect the boy would actually ask something else entirely.

tags: alternative universe - canon divergence | reminiscing memories | domestic fluff | harry living with wolfstar

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Adventures of the Little King

After Evan’s horrendous idea, Regulus finally came to terms with his animagus form. And if he might add, it did become pretty handy; not until a bespectacled boy began spending time with him.

tags: alternative universe - canon divergence | fluff | POV alternating

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Rings, Vows, and Chaos

As time went by, with Voldemort’s uprising reign finally ended without further casualties, the young soldiers finally got the taste of life. Full of curiosity and drive to live more than a normal person would do. Regardless of what other people say, some of them declared their love and did what a normal lovers would do: get married.

tags: alternative universe - canon divergence | domestic fluff | wedding fic

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Is Romance for the Unsung Heroes?

Regulus, for the last time, cupped James’ face and kissed him. Earnest of love, full of sorrow and unfinished stories to tell.“I love you, James Potter. You’re a moron but who am I to resist the sun. I was born to revolve my life for you.” James cackled involuntarily when he heard those words—the same exact ones Regulus said as he confessed his love to James for the first time.

tags: major character death | canonical death | angst | alternate universe - canon divergence

#preface #materlist #ao3 #marauders #fanfics #james potter #remus lupin #sirius black #regulus black #peter pettigrew #lily evans #dorcas meadowes #marlene mckinnon #mary macdonald #evan rosier #barty crouch jr

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shoot-the-oneshot · 4 years

Text

FLIPPED THE SWITCH

Requested by: @ateliefloresdaprimavera

thank you 😊It's an Eric imagine where him and Yn have been married since forever (I mean, way does Sookie keep getting all the guys, right?) she went to visit Godric, so when she comes back,Sookie (and everyone besides Pam,who yn views as a daughter) are surprised at her and how much Eric changes when she's around. what do you think?

Eric Northman X Reader

Once again there was a war between vampires and the humans and of course Sookie Stackhouse was in the middle of it. Which means Bill wasn’t far behind followed by Eric who could feel his frustration rising every second, but as Sookie likes to often point out, as the sherif of this area he has to tag along. Only flaw in her guilt tactic was that he didn’t feel guilty, and the missing vamps are from three towns over, meaning not his problem.

But the energetic blonde wouldn’t stop talking his ear off on how it effects all vampires, as if she could talk. Eric was inches from allowing Pam to rip her tongue out just for a few minutes of silence from her spewing horrible plans to fix the problems all revolving around talking it out.

The heavy door to fangtasia slams against the wall from the force Eric used. Pam immediately making a drink behind the bar, she was just as close to losing it on the blood bag human as Eric was. Who was yelling the entire way from the parking lot to inside.

“Here’s a plan, if we must get involved as you say we do, we kill them all!”

Sookie looking genuinely insulted at his suggestion while Bill looks tired of her as well not that he’d let her see that.

“There has to be another way!”

“There’s not, if you want my help that the plan.”

Eric growls, did she forget she was still dealing with vampires. Before she can rebuttal a new voice speaks up.

“Now Eric im sure we can all hear you, no need to yell.”

You said with a smirk, leaning comfortably across the throne on stage. You still remember rolling your eyes at your husband when he bought the damned thing. Pam runs over embracing you in a tight hug, she called you everyday while you were away, keeping you up to date on whatever annoyed her throughout the day.

“Despite how glad I am to see you again how dare you leave me alone with them, do you know what is was like?”

“I can imagine,”

Looking over her shoulder to the two still standing by the bar, looking thoroughly confused at the fact Pam of all people hugging you, a stranger to them at least. just wait till they see what happens next.

Eric was next to you in the blink of an eye. Gazing adoringly at you, gently running his fingers through your hair, caressing the side of your face.

“I see my maker finally returned you.”

If the couple wasn’t confused before they definitely were when they saw the looming vampire kiss you as if you were made of glass.

“He was frightened of what may become of you without my supervision.”

You giggle, hanging onto his black t-shirt. As he hums only looking away from you when Sookie chimes in.

“Who’s that?”

She asked in her thick accent, hands on her hips, as if she should know who you were already. Your heels clicking as you walked over. Pam standing closely behind in case she acted out. Pam always saw you as almost a daughter even though you were married to her maker. Who decided to stay a few steps back, he knew you could handle Yourself but, if Sookie did disrespect you he wouldn’t be able to control himself from what would have a very bloody aftermath which he knew you hated if it could be avoided.

“I’m Y/n Northman, Erics wife.”

You held your hand out with a polite smile, she might not know you but you knew all about her and Bills activates.

“His wife? I didn’t even know he was married!”

She practically yells, to which Eric held up his left hand, ring in plain view.

“Well, where have you been?”

You were quickly seeing what they have been telling you about her, she got annoying quick and thought she deserved to know every detail about everyone, you’ll chop that up to the mind reader thing.

“I wasn’t aware I had to answer to someone I just met, forgive me I should’ve posted flyers before I left.”

You could hear Pam, snicker. Sookie has the decency to look embarrassed, while you reached pasted her to shake Bills hand. As Eric sets his on your back, now standing next to you.

“Now that that’s out of the way, as I was saying there has to be a different way to handle this situation.”

Pam was unfazed by Erics sudden change in behavior, the other couple was not, they have never seen the Viking vampire like that. So gentle, and caring. It was almost as if a switch had flipped in him when you showed up. Gone with the blood thirsty Eric and in with a compassionate, loving husband in its place. They almost got whip lash. But will have to remember that next time he gets out of hand, Smiling up at him with a quick wink from your spot under his arm.

“That’s exactly what I was thinking.”

❤️hope you love it!❤️

#eric x reader #eric northman imagine #eric northman x reader #truebloods imagine #eric imagines #tarzan imagine

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babbushka · 3 years

Note

Zannah, I can’t wait for Prince Philip! I loved Fathoms Below too!

I think that after the divorce when Charlie can be with you that he will really want to be with you! Showing you off and parading his affection for you around!

Can you please give us something with Charlie being a bit of an exhibitionist or even pushing things too far? Anything you think would be fun.

(1.2K, canon-divergent where Charlie wins the custody battle, cw: implied infidelity, but really lots of fluff, excessive PDA)

You’ve never seen him so happy, once it’s a done deal. Once the ink has dried and the terms have been agreed on once and for all, once Charlie’s a free man. The divorce lawyers in that big building in the sky all look at him with raised eyebrows, because they’ve never seen someone practically skipping out of their floor the way Charlie does, elated excited overjoyed.

But they don’t know, that now that it’s all done, he’s practically racing his way to you.

The sun washes over New York City, and he spreads his arms wide soaking up the rays. He doesn’t think he’s ever felt so young, so much adrenaline coursing through his veins. Henry is with Nicole for the weekend as a way to get some time in before saying goodbye, and Charlie wants nothing more than to be with you.

He had been with you for quite some time of course, but never like this. Not like the way he can buy flowers and not have to hide them behind his back as he approaches your door. Not like the way he can pull you in for a kiss right in front of everyone, no longer having to worry about what the neighbors might think.

“I love you.” He announces, his voice loud loud loud on the day it’s all settled, and his face is lit up like the Hudson when the sunshine hits it just right. “I love you and I want the world to know.”

“I love you too Charlie.” You grin at him, and something in your spine tingles about the fact that you get to say it proudly, because it’s true, it’s always been true.

Taking you by the hand, he beams at you with those handsomely crooked teeth of his, and pulls you out of your house with a laugh.

“Where are we going?” You let yourself be pulled along, let yourself walk in time with his long legs, an even pace.

“Anywhere, everywhere!” Charlie laughs, feeling a thousand pounds lighter without the golden band around his finger, and you can’t help but laugh along with him, his energy contagious as he stops abruptly and picks you up, twirls you around and around in the air asking, “Where do you want to go? The world is our oyster, sweetheart!”

He could practically break out into song and dance, remembering why he fell in love with theater in the first place, musical numbers waiting to explode out of his chest right there on the sidewalk.

“You know what I haven’t done in a long time?” The idea pops into your head, a slightly unconventional date idea, considering Charlie was known for his grand plans.

“What’s that?” He’s at once interested, holding you close to his chest, his hands groping at your ass, at your sides right there in front of everyone.

“Visit the Met, let’s go there.” You bite at your lip, shimmying away for only as far as you could manage before he scoops you up in his arms again, the two of you love-drunk and elated all the while.

He can’t keep his hands off of you the entire trip there. The subways are packed but that’s okay, he has you sat right on his lap, his arms wound around your middle. You at least have the decency to look embarrassed about it, but Charlie is blissfully unaware of the looks that some more concerned passengers were throwing his way. He kisses at your neck, chaste kisses but still kisses nonetheless, squeezes your thigh.

He doesn’t let go of your hand once as you get off at the right stop and walk up from underground. The perfect gentleman that he is, he opens all the doors for you and like the brat he can be, he pinches and smacks at your ass as you pass him by. He even goes so far as to try and sneak his hand under your skirt on occasion, making you smack at his hands for being so bold, so crass.

But it isn’t until you find yourselves in front of a large painting, an old oil master work of a pair of lovers embracing, that Charlie really throws all caution to the wind. You’re looking up at it in wonder, moved by the artwork in front of you, moved by the beauty of the composition and execution. In turn, Charlie is moved by you. He is reminded that this is what love is supposed to feel like, how a partner is supposed to make him feel.

He can’t help but tug on your hand to get your attention, can’t help but capture your lips in a heated searing kiss right there on the museum floor. You smile against his lips and melt into his embrace, the little pamphlet fluttering to the marble below your feet as your arms wind around his shoulders.

There’s people all around, but Charlie doesn’t care. In fact he’s glad they’re there, glad that they can witness his love for you. His hands begin to wander, clutching you tightly to him just the same way that the lovers in the painting do. He is elated that he can do this freely without consequence, and he wants to do it all the time.

A long time ago in a dark theater, Charlie had shouted up at the ghosts that sneered down at him from the rafters – but look at him now. Look at the two of you, together after it all, together at last! He wishes that he could commission an artist to render this moment, two people so adoring of one another, that in two thousand years perhaps another couple could kiss in front of.

His large hand covers your face as he cups your jaw, pries your mouth open with his and licks against your tongue, soft sounds of your kissing echoing in this little gallery of the museum. You sigh against his mouth, and he smiles, kisses like he’s going to devour you – until the security guard in the corner clears his throat, and you both give an apologetic smile, moving through the rest of the Met.

Later, when you’re back in his bed at his house that he bought with the three of you in mind, you’re tucked up against his naked sweaty chest as you share a cigarette, and you sigh.

“Today was wonderful.” You say softly, because it was, it really was. From the museum to the pizza joint you stopped at on the way back home, to the dogs you saw in the park and the butterfly that landed on Charlie’s shoulder while he smoked, it felt like today was the beginning of a new chapter in everyone’s lives.

“I’m glad you think so.” Charlie says, and you have no way of knowing, but he’s thinking the exact same thing. His voice goes shy then for a moment, uncharacteristically nervous as he continues softly, “It can be like this every day…if you want.”

You should have known your answer would get you tackled with kisses, but you don’t think about that in the moment. All you can think about, is how you can’t imagine your life any other way than being spent with Charlie and Henry, as you wink and respond with a cheeky,

“You promise?”

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Tagging some Charlie lovin’ pals! @mochabucky @sacklerscumrag @artsymaddie @direnightshade @reyloaddict55 @kylorenswhxre @sunflowersinthesnow @safarigirlsp @rennasiance-mama @steeevienicks @mousemakingjam @the-unmanaged-mischief @slut-for-harri @littleevilme13 @erys-targaryen @leillaa @lovinghufflepuffgirl @miabelay11 @chapterhappygirl @schopenhauerdeathsquad

#charlie barber #charlie barber x reader #charlie barber/reader #charlie barber x you #charlie barber/you #marriage story #adam driver fanfic #adcu #my writing #charlie barber fluff

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alicedopey · 3 years

Text

Romancing Harald Finehair

Fandom: Vikings

Pairing: Harald x Reader

Genre: Modern AU, Angst, Fluff

Warnings: None

Words number: 1480 (yep, still don’t know how to write a drabble)

Summary: Harald does not believe he is worth it, you prove him wrong.

A/N: Here is your second request, love. @gearhead66

Harald was a man of many words. No matter the situation, he knew how to charm people with his words. This was one of the many reasons why you had fallen for him. You, the little flower girl that he met one day after you had delivered some floral arrangements for his company. He charmed you instantly. You had a date, two dates, three dates, and now one year later, the two of you were living together.

Now one year later, Harald was quite – unusually quiet. He still smiled, laughed, kissed you, cuddled you, made love to you but something was amiss. You knew he was convinced he was not the right one for you since that dreadful visit to your parents.

They were not known for their tolerance and understanding so you had tried your best to postpone the day Harald would meet them. You knew what type of comment they could say and how badly they could act. But when they invited you both for Christmas to celebrate with the whole family, there was no way you could have refused. Harald had felt humbled that your parents seemed so eager to meet him and he could not wait to celebrate this family holiday with your folks since he had not real family left except for his younger brother who was often away on a trip.

So, you went. Sadly, everything happened as you had foreseen it. Their judgmental faces when they saw how older than you he looked, the widening of their eyes when they heard his name, their fake sweet voices when they talked to him or their “not so subtle” jokes about his age. You were not certain Harald noticed any of it but if he did, he did not mention it – which was frankly even more noble of him.

Still, you were annoyed and had to confront them about their behavior. You did not need to do it though, because they cornered you in the kitchen as Harald and you were ready to leave a few da ys later.

“Honey, he is really charming but do you really think he’s the one for you?”

“And why wouldn’t he be, mother?” You raised your chin and crossed your arms on your chest defiantly.

“He is nearly 15 years older than you, honey. Isn’t it a bit too much?”

“Stop ‘honey’ me.” You rolled your eyes. “I don’t care about our age gap. He is sweet, smart, caring and I love him. Besides, it’s not like I’m 18. I’m in my thirties so there is nothing wrong.”

“He is Harald Finehair.” Your mother hissed through her teeth. “Nothing good can come of this. If you want an older man so bad, why don’t you choose someone like Ragnar Lothbrok? At least, this one did something with his life.”

You could feel your blood boiling in your veins and were about to reply when someone coughed behind you.

Harald.

“We’d better leave if we don’t want to get stuck in traffic.”

Your parents had the decency to look a little bit uneasy but you were mortified.

During your way back home, Harald chatted with you as if nothing had happened but it was clear he had been hurt by your parents’ words and that he did not want to talk about it.

Since then, he had been slightly off. It pained your immensely and you decided to show him you loved him and that he was the one for you in spite of what your parents thought.

So, on this Friday night, you had prepared his favorite dish and put one your sexiest black dress – the one he loved so much, ready to woo him as he deserved to be.

When he came back from work, you were nervous wreck but you hid your trembling hands behind your back and welcomed him with a tender kiss on the lips. Harald looked around the room with a questioning gaze.

“What are we celebrating?” He asked, eying upside down with a smirk.

You shrugged your shoulders, trying to act nonchalant. “Do we need a reason?”

Harald watched you closely as if he was hoping to read some answer on your face but he found none. “I guess not.”

“Great! Now go and get ready for dinner.”

Harald cast you one last glance and made his way to your bedroom. When you heard the water from the shower running, you relaxed and released a sigh you did not know you were holding. Then, you finished setting the table hurriedly.

Harald joined you as you were putting the main course on the table. His cologne hit your nostrils and you hummed contently. He had put on his best suit and tied his hair on a bun, just as you liked it.

He sat down and arched a brow when he saw what you had cooked. “I see you are spoiling me tonight.”

“You deserve it.” You answered, more curtly than you would have wished to. You were more nervous than during your first date because you feared it could be the last one and you did not want that, definitely not. Things had to work out as you had planned.

“This is excellent.” Harald’s voice brought you back in the real world.

You smiled. “I’m glad.”

You felt a little bit better after that and asked him about his day. Listening to his voice was so soothing that you only gave him monosyllabic answers so you could enjoy the sound of his voice, this hoarse and husky voice that made you fall in love with him in the first place.

When dessert came, you felt somewhat stronger and ready to put the second part of your plan in action.

“I love you so much”. You whispered, gently taking his hand in yours.

He squeezed your hand “I love you too, Y/N.”

“I know. In fact, I don’t think someone ever loved me as much as you do and that is the same for my part. You are the first man who makes me feel this way; loved and worshipped, so admired. You gave me so much without asking for anything in return and that’s what loving means. I can’t imagine my life without you.”

You took a deep breath and looked him in the eye. “Harald Finehair, will you marry me?”

Silence. Seconds then minutes passed and no words came out of his mouth. He was just looking at you, utterly dumbfounded.

Panic rose in your chest. Maybe he wanted to say no but he did not want to break your heart so harshly after you had given it to him on a plate.

“Please, say something. Anything. Even if it’s a ‘no’. Your heart was furiously hammering in your chest by now. “Gosh, this is the reason why women usually don’t do it.” You let go of his hand and was about to stand up when he grabbed your arm.

“Y/N, look at me.” Your eyes met. “Good. Now, breathe.” He waited until you breathed deeply and when you did, he smiled showing those adorable wrinkles on the corner of his eyes you loved so much.

“There…now, can’t a man be surprised when his woman proposes to him? Especially when she beats him to it.”

At that, Harald pulled out a small square blue velvet box from his pocket. Your mouth formed a silent ‘oh’ as he opened the box to reveal a thin white gold ring studded with diamonds. He gently took it. A sad gleam appeared in his eyes.

“The truth is I’ve had this little thing with me for a while. I wanted to propose on Christmas but…”

“Oh Harald…” You stood up to kneel in front of him, setting your hands on his muscular thighs. It was your turn to force him to look at you.

“Listen to me. Whatever my parents say, I will do what I wish and my deepest wish is to live my life with you next to me. I don’t want someone younger or wealthier, I don’t want a Ragnar Lothbrok. What is I want is a Harald Finehair and now that I’ve got him, I will not let him go for the whole world.” He smiled, which comforted you. “So, what do you say, will you marry me?”

“If you will.” He answered back.

“Of course, I will, you stubborn old man.”

Harald chuckled and slid the ring on your finger. Then he made you sit on his lap. “Who knew you had such a way with words?”

You set a sweet kiss on his lips. “I learned from the best.”

Tagging (tell me if you want to be added or removed): @naaladareia @gearhead66 @therealcalicali @captstefanbrandt @medievalfangirl @tephi101 @girlonfireice

#vikings #fanfic #harald finehair x reader #harald finehair #modern au #fluff #500 followers celebration #alice's 500 followers celebration

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nencheese · 2 years

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I posted 3.673 times in 2021

121 posts created (3%)

3552 posts reblogged (97%)

For every post I created, I reblogged 29.4 posts.

I added 611 tags in 2021

#my stuff - 133 posts

#my writing - 69 posts

#nendrab - 68 posts

#good omens - 66 posts

#naughty - 60 posts

#srb - 51 posts

#ineffable husbands - 49 posts

#fic rec - 48 posts

#ineffable spouses - 40 posts

#nenart - 27 posts

Longest Tag: 111 characters

#im still reeling over the fact they taped the god damn windows so crowley would push aziraphale up into a cross

My Top Posts in 2021

Got out my watercolours to play!

164 notes • Posted 2021-01-14 00:05:08 GMT

Inheritance

Crowley was sitting in the office, draped in full mourning widow gear, complete with a long black veil, sniffling and occasionally dabbing at his eyes, completely ignoring the other people present who were glaring daggers at him.

“Well then, Misses Krepier, it seems that everything is in order, so I won’t keep you any longer and just give you the keys to the estate. My condolences to your husband passing so soon after marriage, but at least you are already in the will. As for you, gentlemen, I am sorry, but the will stated clearly that the estate was only to be auctioned off for charity in case no wife was present, so I’m afraid you came for nothing.”

Crowley thanked the man again with a high, quivering voice, signing the documents and grabbing the keys.

Then he left the office before he couldn’t hold in his laughter anymore.

His plan had gone exceptionally well, with only very little manipulation of official legal documents, and had allowed him to both piss off people and secure-

“Excuse me, madam, do you have a second to talk about your late husband’s collection of rare books?” came a familiar voice from his right as he stepped out of the building, and he turned.

There he was, Aziraphale, all polite smiles and very obviously with no idea who exactly stood before him. Crowley decided to have a bit of fun.

“Oh, how dare you! He isn’t even buried yet and already come the vultures, circling what’s left of him in this world. Oh, woe is me, this poor, weak woman, who now is left with obligations and no husband! Off you go, may you hang your head in shame!” he screamed, hysterically, accusatory, voice still high and quivering.

The angel had the decency to indeed hang his head in shame, and Crowley nearly lost it right there.

“Oh, oh dear, yes, of course, so sorry for your loss,” he mumbled, almost reflexively.

Then he stopped and narrowed his eyes.

“…Crowley? Is that you?”

Crowley, unable to hold back any longer, laughed.

“Oh, oh it IS you! You fiend! Impersonating a poor woman to steal her rightful inheritance, oh, you-”

“Ahh, shaddup, I’m not impersonating anyone. And you’re just annoyed with me because you already made first dibs arrangements with the charity people. Which, by the way, is a terrible, terrible charity, really angel, you need to start looking into that stuff. They support putting down their strays and all.”

Aziraphale huffed and puffed and would probably have blown a house down if Crowley hadn’t continued.

“And they promised dibs to at least 20 other people. Meanwhile I surely could be persuaded to give someone exclusive rights,” he purred.

The angel’s indignation evaporated like self-respect in a college bet.

“Oh! Oh, well then. Would you care join me for dinner, to talk about the details?”

“Only if you kiss my hand, Mr. Fell,” Crowley laughed. “I have to make the most of my potential to scandalize people while I’m still in mourning.”

The angel rolled his eyes, but he did bow down deeply, taking Crowley’s hand and placing a delicate kiss first on the wrist, and then, turning it, on the palm. Crowley was suddenly very glad for the veil hiding his face, even if, judging by the look Aziraphale gave him when he got back up, the bastard knew anyway.

“Well then, my dear, shall we? I know a lovely Italian restaurant just around the corner. We can talk business and you can tell me how you came to be the late Mr. Krepier’s wife.”

Crowley took the angel’s outstretched arm, making sure to wave daintily at the charity man glaring at the pair of them.

He threw his head back and laughed.

“Oh, you know what they say, angel. What happens in Vegas, stays in Vegas – except for legally binding contracts.”

Read the rest of the prompts HERE.

164 notes • Posted 2021-03-17 16:12:46 GMT

Bodyswap

“So, how’d you propose we do it then?” Aziraphale slurred.

The both of them were spectacularly drunk already, two hours after shaking on the arrangement and starting the befitting celebrations. The world felt pleasantly fuzzy around the edges, less sharp than usual and the last thing Crowley wanted to do was think about technicalities. He wanted to think about results, like getting to spend more time with the angel and less time running around and even less time on a horse’s back and even less less time falling off and getting dragged around by said horse. And maybe some more time for Aziraphale to get dragged. Crowley was certain that would look hilarious.

“We just. Go. N’ do the thing,” he grunted, sinking even deeper into the cushions.

“Buuuuuuuut willit-” the angel was interrupted by a burp, which Crowley, who rarely saw the angel burp found astonishingly funny. The way his face scrunched up! Aziraphale levelled him with a look, which reminded Crowley more of an angry bird. Little puffy bird puffing up its feathers.

“-willit work? Never done anything infernal. Wouldn’t want the stench on my corporation.”

“Wha? Stench??”

“Yes, the stench!”

“I don’t stench! I smell wonderful, like roses and sunshine and butterfly fartsssss,” Crowley hissed, outraged.

“Someone’s farts anyway,” the angel murmured and Crowley gasped, offended.

“And you smell like- like- like a thunderstorm! So there.”

“Yes, that would be the ozone,” Aziraphale said, enragingly unaffected. “But really. We need to- to think this THROUGH. Havta be smart about it. Dunno how to call up infernal energy. Tried before.”

“You have? Why???” Crowley leaned forward, indignation forgotten at the prospect of bastardy.

“Ah, you know. Terrible cooks, book-withholding fiends, the usual enraging things.”

Crowley snorted.

“Should’ve known.”

“Yes, well,” the angel sniffed.

Crowley’s mind was spinning.

“Why didn’t you say? Before we shook on it?”

“Well, I AM quite confident we can find a solution between the two of us, if we actually think,” Aziraphale said haughtily, in a manner that indicated Crowley better have an idea.

Crowley stared at Aziraphale for a long minute, mind completely blank.

Course it didn’t work for Aziraphale. He was so soft. So pretty. And, Crowley would never admit it out loud, he really did smell nice. Unlike Crowley’s corporation.

“We could swap,” he blurted out, suddenly.

“Swap??” Aziraphale said, confused.

“Swap corporations. Never had trouble doing demonic things in my own.”

Aziraphale stared at him. Crowley could almost see the gears turning in his head.

He reached out a hand.

“Lend a hand when needed?” he said with a lopsided grin.

Aziraphale took it. And kept holding it, not doing anything. Just staring at it. Moving his thumb over Crowley’s knuckles.

“Uhhh, Aziraphale?” Crowley asked, trying to hide the whatever it was that was bubbling up his throat. Probably something embarrassing.

See the full post

189 notes • Posted 2021-03-29 09:41:33 GMT

You remembered?

Crowley had always been fond of knowledge. And for most of his life he had also been fond of Aziraphale. So it wasn’t too surprising that over time, he acquired a lot of very specific knowledge relating to Aziraphale. Aziraphale himself, however, did seem surprised, when after the apocalypse, Crowley started to make use of it.

“Here, have some of the coffee-flavour chocolates, I know they’re your favourite.”

“Oh, you remembered that? Don’t mind if I do.”

“Angel, come on, I bought us cards at the globe for Much Ado! It’s the anniversary of the time you let me win the coin toss after all!”

“Oh really, you act like it was the only time I did. I can’t believe you remember that time.”

“Angel, I got you some new gloves so you can stop dithering about whether to ditch the old ones.”

“Oh, you remembered that? I don’t even recall telling you about it.”

It was the same every time.

Surprise. Gratefulness. Joy.

And while he loved surprising Aziraphale with nice things, he sometimes did get concerned about how often the angel was surprised by it. Made him realize how little Aziraphale expected people to care about the things he cared about. He could only hope to fix it in time.

They were having a nice evening in at the bookshop, arguing amicably with a bottle of wine, and something was off. Aziraphale kept huffing to himself irritatedly. Crowley had written it off as something external at first, like maybe a particularly annoying customer. But then the angel had started to give him looks when he didn’t think Crowley saw, the annoyance creeping into his voice. Until he heaved one more big huff and crossed his arms.

“Alright angel, what’s the problem?” he asked, feeling a tad annoyed himself at this point.

“Oh, you really DID forget then!”

“Forget? Forget what!”

“Our anniversary,” Aziraphale scowled.

“What? Which anniversary!” Crowley griped, baffled.

“Today marks the 3512th anniversary of the first time we ate a meal together.”

“What, no, that’s tomorrow!”

“No, no, I remember it with perfect clarity. We started before midnight, even if the other 6 hours of the feast were the next day. Thus, the anniversary is today. I cannot believe you forgot!”

The angel huffed once more and re-crossed his arms decisively, pouting.

Crowley gaped at him in disbelief, not quite sure what to say. Then he started to grin.

“You mad bastard. So you did expect me to remember after all.”

“Well, of course I do! That’s what it is like when you love someone, you remember important things and celebrate anniversaries and stop laughing, I’m being serious!”

“Sorry, sorry,” Crowley wheezed. “It’s just, I can’t believe I thought I had to worry about you expecting so little when you were actually acting coy!”

The angel kept looking at him with a sour expression and Crowley only laughed harder.

“No, no, angel, you don’t understand I was actually starting to get worried! And then it turns out you’re just as much of a bastard as I thought you were and you get all technical at me about the 30 seconds the feast started before midnight. Come on, that’s hilarious. And also of course I got us reservations for Mongolian tomorrow. You know on the date that’s sensible for this anniversary.”

“Oh, so you did remember!” Aziraphale said, brightening immediately, which sent Crowley into another fit.

Aziraphale sighed and rolled his eyes. But his mouth was already twitching and it wasn’t long until he joined in.

When they finally both calmed down, Aziraphale was sitting up against Crowley, who had one arm around his shoulders, his own still shaking slightly from laughing.

See the full post

263 notes • Posted 2021-03-15 22:59:23 GMT

Crowley after the gym: Swoley

Crowley during Winter: Snowley

Crowley when Aziraphale tells him redundant information: Iknowley

Crowley when Aziraphale gets the upper bed of the two story bed: Lowley

Crowley when Aziraphale really wants that perfect english lawn in the south downs: Mowley

325 notes • Posted 2021-03-03 18:50:22 GMT

Get your Tumblr 2021 Year in Review →

#my 2021 tumblr year in review #your tumblr year in review

6 notes · View notes

artificialqueens · 3 years

Text

Bitch Fight, Ch.5 (Multi-Ship) - Lita

Welcome to the world of Femme Fatale Wrestling. The future is female, and we're here to prove it.

A/N: Thanks a lot for all the love here once again, again not much to say here, but I'm finally starting to get into the meat of the story here after a bunch of chapters worth of preamble, so enjoy! We finally meet Courtney here, and frankly she's the best so I really love this chapter. Enjoy loves! <3<3

CHAPTER FIVE: SAME OLD SHIT

“I don’t like complaining about this shit too much, but this is insane - I don’t think Laila and Naysha have ever been in the same room for more than five minutes, and now they’re challenging for the tag titles?” Bianca says, furrowing her brows. She has her bangs in a hair roller, her lipstick in one hand as she stares at the thrown-together match card on the clipboard in her other. It’s been written on a piece of paper that had obviously been fished out of the trash can, creased and crumpled, written in Sharpie; half in Bill’s handwriting, half in Dela’s, with a concerning number of matches having been scored out and changed. “And we wonder why people don’t turn up to shows any more; this is two squash matches for the titles, and a bunch of crap that makes no sense. Dela versus Trinity will probably be good; working with Pearl is kind of a cakewalk, so I’m not mad at my slot, but the rest of this is a trainwreck.”

“We need more jobbers,” Courtney shrugs, craning her neck to look at the card and snapping her gum. Listening to Bianca ranting was driving her a little insane; Bea was great, but she could be a whiny bitch when the urge struck her. “I’m getting bored of fighting the same people all the time. My last match with Fame was a nightmare - I don’t wanna say I’m glad she’s not working tonight, but if the shoe fits...”

“We need more wrestlers - it doesn’t even matter that we’re running out of people to lose matches, we’re running out of interesting matches, period.”

“I fucking miss Jinkx,” Courtney sighs, resting her chin on Bianca’s shoulder. She’d wound up being a good hour late, but thankfully - for the sake of Dela’s blood pressure if nothing else - had turned up more-or-less ready to go. She’d spent a ludicrous amount of time stuck in traffic, doing her makeup in the rear-view mirror in between inching her car forward at twenty-minute intervals. Her hair was at the very least semi-presentable, pulled back with a long clip-in ponytail at the top of her head.

She’d changed immediately on arrival - in a blue rhinestoned bra and shorts emblazoned with the Southern Cross stars; one Aboriginal flag kickpad, one Union Jack. She’d initially put her shorts on back-to-front in her haste, and had walked around like that for a good ten minutes until Trinity had the decency to point it out to her - unlike every fucker else, who would have apparently been a-okay with letting her walk out looking like a moron; they had a v-shaped waistband at the front, and consequently her entire arse-crack had been visible. She’d wondered why Laganja and Gia had been sitting laughing and whispering to each other while making direct eye contact with her butt for so long - suddenly averting their gaze whenever she turned around to look at them.

Courtney didn’t like admitting it to herself, but there was something she was uneasy with about the attitude towards her that was developing in the locker room. She wasn’t sure what she was doing wrong - or even whether or not she was actually imagining everything - but everyone just seemed…off with her. They had done for a while.

She’d held the title since the beginning of last year, winning it from Magnolia Crawford, who herself had a stranglehold on the belt for the better part of eighteen months, the majority of which was spent throwing a prolonged and completely unjustified shit-fit with Jinkx over the perceived flaws in the way she was being booked. She hadn’t been meant to hold the title for that long - really, she was a transitional champion if anything else, pencilled in for a few months long reign before dropping it to someone more qualified. However, there was always something wrong with the plan when it came time for her to lose, and she’d been prone to throwing tantrums and changing the finishes of matches on the fly if she didn’t get her way. After a lot of drama, culminating in Magnolia threatening to walk and take the title with her if she didn’t get what she wanted, it was set in stone that the belt was to change hands by whatever means necessary, and they would gimmick the finish or disqualify her if need be.

The match had sucked. Magnolia had gone majorly off-script after deciding that Courtney wasn’t selling well enough; Court had left two teeth in the ring, and the black eye she’d been dealt for her troubles had hung around for weeks. The planned match went straight out the window, deteriorating into a scrappy mess of all-too-real slaps and punches that by all accounts had been horrendous to watch.

Courtney had won via a fast-counted dirty pin after hitting a Glam Slam (her sixth attempt at a finisher of the match) too hard and smacking Magnolia’s head off the mat, half on purpose in a desperate attempt to get her to stay down. It was a dick move, but after watching her opponent try to kill her for the last ten minutes, not a single person in the audience begrudged her the victory. After her hand was raised at the end of the match, Court took the belt and bolted out of the ring like her arse was on fire, face covered in blood.

Magnolia had been fired the second she got backstage, her bags already packed and the entire locker room standing watch to ensure that she fucked off out of the building immediately. It had been a long time coming, but shooting on Courtney had crossed a line. She’d been blackballed by the promotion ever since. That was the biggest reason Courtney missed Jinkx being around - she stood her fucking ground, and didn’t hold with other people’s bullshit.

Which made it stink twice as much that she was effectively gone, because whenever Courtney tried to mention to Bill that the matches she was being put into were getting stale, and driving everyone backstage insane given that she hadn’t had a sustained feud with anyone, nor a match that had gone longer than ten minutes in months, it was blatantly obvious that he didn’t give a fuck. Every time she pitched an idea, it got shot down - Trinity can’t cut a promo for shit, Vixen is a pain in the ass, Shangela’s attire sucks, Dela’s face annoys me. She’d been in the middle of a program with Bianca that they’d both really been enjoying when Jinkx got hurt - when Bill ended up in charge, that got shitcanned in a hurry because Bianca was ‘old and boring’, in favour of an endless slew of squash matches against interchangeable skinny, pretty blondes. It felt gross.

Deep down, Courtney knew that other people knew it wasn’t her fault. Everyone was getting sick of this - that was obvious. But that didn’t change the fact that she’d started to notice people avoiding eye contact with her backstage; the crowd of other girls who used to stand behind the curtain to watch her matches - just like they did with everyone else - was starting to dwindle; they relished in the opportunity to make her look stupid and take her down a peg, even if that was something as simple as not telling her that her clothes were on backwards. People had started ‘forgetting’ to invite her when they hung out outside of work. Her phone was constantly dry, it felt like nobody wanted to speak to her.

It wasn’t for lack of trying - she did what she could to try and make opportunities for the other girls; to try and be on their side. After all, she’d always been taught when she was coming up through the industry that the champ was the locker room leader - she was the face of the promotion here, and she had to do right by the others. But that was nigh-on impossible, they all knew that. It felt a lot like going down with a sinking ship at times - except for some reason, people found it easier to blame her, rather than the man who had obviously sunk said ship in the fucking first place, for the fact that their shoes were getting wet.

She didn’t fucking like it - but then again, it wasn’t like she was begging to drop the title or anything, so she clearly didn’t hate it that much. Champion’s disadvantage - jealousy is a hell of a drug.

Courtney takes a closer look at the match card, and furrows her brows. “Hey, who’s Adore Delano?”

“Oh shit,” Bianca’s eyes widen. “Okay so, funny story-”

As if on cue, Dela walks back into the dressing room; she looks stressed as per, her hair wild and undone, boots half-laced. There’s a girl in torn-up denim shorts walking just behind her; on the taller side, and lanky, with long, unruly bright red hair. Bianca straightens up her posture; clearly slightly concerned that Dela had overheard her complaining.

“Adore, this is Courtney Act. She’s our world champ, and her original opponent is currently unable to move more than two feet away from her toilet, so you’re working the main event with her tonight.” Dela says breathlessly. Adore looks startled - her eyes wide, blinking slowly. She’s cute, in a kind of gross, rugged way. She gives a weak smile; Courtney smiles back. Dela continues: “We really aren’t expecting anything fancy - ten minutes at most, we just need someone to put Courtney over, and you just happen to be the only person available to do it.” She turns to Courtney, lowering her voice. “Adore’s new, it’s her first night - she’s Bianca’s current training project. She’s a work in progress, but if you lead her, she’ll be fine. The crowd isn’t bad, but it’s not great either - just make the most of it.”

Courtney salutes her. “Cool - take a breather, get yourself ready. I’m a big girl, I can figure my own shit out from here.” Dela nods, mouthing ‘thank you’, walking back to the bench where her stuff is piled up, tripping over her untied shoelace as she goes.

Courtney walks over to Adore, who’s standing looking a little clueless - folding her arms as she looks the new girl up and down. Her ring gear is minimal to say the very least - some tape on her hands, and a pair of kneepads which she’s pretty sure are Bianca’s, only turned inside-out; Docs instead of wrestling boots, and an old leatherette Victoria’s Secret bra. “Hey - it’s nice to meet you.”

“Thanks- I mean, you too,” Adore smiles; she seems a little tense. Courtney drops her shoulders as she looks into Adore’s eyes - maybe she’ll replicate the movement and ease up a little. “Sorry - tonight has been like, a lot.” She laughs nervously, pushing her hair off of her face and looking at her feet.

“Don’t worry about it - I’ve got you. Just let me call the match, and you’re golden.” Courtney nods reassuringly. “There’s already people here, so we can’t rehearse anything in the ring - we’re just gonna have to call it on the fly, but you’ll be fine. I mean, Bea’s gotta have you whipped into shape by now, right?”

“I think so?” Adore shrugs, giggling nervously. She’s not stopped messing with her hair, tucking it behind her ear and then moving it back, toying with the end of it between her fingers, her movements still a little twitchy and uncertain. She’s got these big, gorgeous brown puppy-eyes that Courtney can’t help but think she’s falling a little bit in love with as the redhead glances nervously around the room, still twirling a lock of her hair around one finger. “Hey,” she says, her ability to concentrate on any one thing seemingly kicking into gear at last. “I love your outfit. Very like, Miss America.”

Courtney has to stifle a laugh. “Miss- sweetie, are you serious?” She can’t stop the stupid grin that’s already cracked its way across her face, covering her mouth with her hand.

“What?” Adore raises her eyebrows.

“I’m genuinely startled by the number of people in this country who don’t know their own flag. Especially given how much you guys like jerking off over it.”

“I’m Mexican, puta - that’s not my fucking flag.” Adore says, feigning seriousness for a moment, a hint of a laugh cracking through her voice.

“It’s not fucking American either.”

“There’s stars and shit on it though.”

“Adore, baby, is the accent not a dead fucking giveaway that I am not from here?” Courtney tries to deadpan her, unable to keep it up for long as she starts giggling too.

“What fucking accent?” Courtney puts her head in her hands.

“Oh sweetie - you’re adorable.” She goes to pinch Adore’s cheek, and the redhead bats her away.

“Don’t fucking patronise me. I only said I liked your outfit because I thought saying you had a nice ass would be weird, and now you’re trying to call me stupid?” Adore has a huge grin on her face - she’s loosened up a little, pushing Courtney in the shoulder a little to add emphasis to the end of her sentence.

“Oh, that’s the game we’re playing, huh?” Courtney pushes her back. “ Well, I think you have a nice arse too - shame I’m gonna have to kick it later.” Courtney raises her eyebrows, miming a mic drop. Adore rolls her eyes.

“You don’t scare me. See you in the ring, bitch.”

She turns to walk away, shooting an ‘I’m watching you’ gesture at Courtney. Courtney folds her arms, watching her go with a smile on her face. She definitely wasn’t upset to see the back of her; that pert ass in those tight little shorts...Courtney feels the need to pinch herself and remind herself that she’s at work. Tonight was shaping up to suck a little less than she thought it would.

#rpdr fanfiction #s6 #bianca del rio #adore delano #courtney act #bendelacreme #adorney #wrestling au #glow au #lesbian au #bitch fight #femme fatale wrestling au #lita

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snelbz · 4 years

Text

The Ranch {13}

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”.

It was way too early for Cassian’s alarm to be going off, if he couldn’t remember anything from Rhysand’s wedding.

Fuck, his head killed. And his chest. And, shit, his entire body.

He realized the beeping wasn’t his alarm at the same moment he remembered what had happened.

With a sputtering cough, Cassian woke up and groaned.

He was in a hospital room, lying on a cot. His body was hooked up to monitors, so many things wrapped around him and poked through his skin that he wasn’t sure what they all were. He wore a hospital gown and a thin blanket was draped over his legs.

Every inch of his body throbbed.

He tried to say something, but nothing came out.

He slowly turned his head to one side. An empty chair sat there. Then he turned his head to the left, where Feyre and Rhysand laid together on a couch.

It was their fucking wedding night, and it was being spent covered in his blood, laying on a shitty couch.

“Rhys,” he said, but his voice was quiet. He tried, again. “Rhys!”

Rhys’ eyes fluttered open, and after a second, they focused on him. “Cass, shit. Are you okay?”

Cassian’s eyes found the bottle of water on the low table in front of Rhys.

“Shit,” he breathed. He kissed the top of Feyre’s head, shaking her lightly. “Baby, wake up, Cass is awake.”

She was up, blinking rapidly. “Cass!” Her eyes immediately welled with tears.

Rhys stood, opening the water bottle and carefully giving Cass a drink.

He cleared his throat and said, voice rasping, “I’m so fucking sorry.”

Feyre sat on the edge of the cot and took Cassian’s hand gently in hers. “For what? Are you kidding me?”

“I ruined your day,” he said, eyes closing as his fingers wrapped around Feyre’s.

“The only person at fault is Tamlin,” Feyre breathed, wiping her tears away. “I’m just glad you’re awake.”

Her voice broke on the last word, causing Cassian to open his eyes and give her a reassuring smile. “You can’t get rid of me yet.”

A laugh bubbled out of Feyre as Rhysand said, “If anyone should be apologizing, it’s me.”

Cassian looked at his best friend, at the guilt plainly written there and he shook his head. “No need. You’d do the same for me. Besides, who knew that asshole would pull out a fucking gun?”

Cassian tried to sit up but cringed, his whole body full of shooting pain as he decided to just stay put.

“Just rest,” Feyre said, gently.

“Is Nesta here?” Cassian asked.

Feyre frowned, but it was Rhysand that said, “She’s in the room across the hall.”

Cassian stilled. “What? Why? What happened?”

“She was just dehydrated,” Feyre said, her hand still in Cassian’s. “Apparently she’d been puking her guts up all day yesterday. Which makes sense, I guess, but I had no idea. I should have been paying closer attention. If I knew, I would have made her relax.”

“She was puking?” Cassian asked, then looked at Feyre with a confused expression. “Why would that make sense? Make sense of what?”

A panic look formed in Feyre’s gray-blue eyes. “What?”

Cassian slowly took his hand out of Feyre’s. “You know something.”

“I do not,” she protested, crossing her arms.

Cassian slowly looked from Feyre to Rhys. “Why is your wife lying to me?”

But Rhys wasn’t looking at Cassian, his head was in his hands. Feyre said, “I’m so sorry, it slipped out. I’m just so tired, and it was such a shock that-.”

“What is going on?” Cassian demanded, grunting as he pulled himself into a sitting position. “Why was Nesta admitted? Is she okay?”

Rhys sighed. “They suggested we not tell you yet. The bullet missed your heart by millimeters, Cass. Any lower, and you wouldn’t be here. For that reason, they don’t want you dealing with any stressful situations and-.”

“Nesta’s pregnant.”

Rhys turned to glare at his wife, who shrugged, but Cassian only blinked once, twice, processing. He shook his head slowly, saying, “We can’t have kids. Nesta can’t have kids.” He sounded like he was trying to convince himself, but the words were distant to his own ears. “She told me she can’t conceive.”

“I know,” Feyre said, quietly. “She was told she couldn’t, Cass, but they ran the test and she’s pregnant.”

Cassian's lips snapped shut as a thousand different emotions flooded through his body. “I just… I don’t… I need to see her. Help me up.”

“You’re not going anywhere,” Rhysand said, shaking his head. “You were just fucking shot.”

“Don’t care,” Cassian said, shaking his head. “I-.”

“I’ll get her,” Feyre said. “Just...stay put. Alright? She’s in shock enough as it is, both from what happened and finding out….” Feyre’s words trailed off, exhaustion making her shoulders slump. “Just rest, and I’ll be back.”

Feyre slipped out the door and left Cassian and Rhys alone. “I’ll have Az get some clothes and whatever else you’ll need and bring them over to the house so we don’t have to stop on the way home.”

Cassian was only half listening. “What? No, I’m not staying with you.”

Rhys rolled his eyes. “Yes, you are. You were shot in the chest less than 24 hours ago.”

“I can’t leave the ranch,” he said, like it was the most obvious thing in the world. To him, it was. “And I’m sure as shit not leaving my pregnant girlfriend there by herself.”

“Cassian, don’t be a dumbass, you can’t-.”

“No, don’t try that shit. You’d be doing the same thing, if the roles were reversed, and you know it.”

Rhysand scowled but didn’t correct him. “I’m the one with medical experience. Nesta’s not-.”

“She can handle a list of instructions, Rhys,” Cassian muttered. “And I can take care of myself.”

Rhysand’s head fell back, exasperated. “Stubborn ass.”

“Prick,” Cassian mumbled back. A moment passed before Cassian said, “If I need you, I’ll call. Besides, you just got married and have dealt with enough shit. I’m not intruding.”

“It’s not intruding if-.” He saw the look on Cassian’s face and sighed. “Fine,” Rhysand said. “But I’m not going to be happy about it.”

“I’m aware,” Cassian said, but now he was grinning, just a little bit.

That grin faded quickly, though, as Cassian looked at the empty doorway, waiting for Nesta to walk through it.

Rhys asked, “Are you okay?”

Cassian knew he wasn’t asking about the gunshot wound. He didn’t answer for a minute because he didn’t know. “I just… I don’t know.” He dragged his good hand down his face. “You don’t think she lied to me, do you?”

Rhys was shaking his head before the question was out. “No, she wouldn’t do that. But also…” Rhys had the decency to look at least somewhat guilty. “I might have had Viv pull her file and I looked through her medical history. She was diagnosed as ‘infertile’ at twenty-two, at a women’s clinic in France.”

Cassian knew he should be pissed at Rhys for the invasion of privacy, but at least knowing that Nesta hadn’t lied to him eased some of the panic he felt rising.

He nodded, slightly. A minute later, Feyre came back into the room, a pale Nesta behind her. One look at Cassian and her eyes were misty.

“We’ll give you two a minute,” Rhysand muttered, taking Feyre’s hand and escorting her out.

Nesta didn’t say a word as she walked to the side of the bed and plopped down in the chair that Feyre had been sitting in.

He turned to look at her, doing his best to hide the pain on his face whenever he moved his left arm. Or the left side of his body. Or his entire body.

“Tell the truth,” he said, wishing she would look at him, instead of at her bare feet on the floor. “Am I sexier now that I’m a hero?” She laughed, but it sounded more like a sob and when she looked up at him, there were tears running down her face. His voice was soft. “Baby…”

“I was so scared I was going to lose you,” she cried, unable to stop the rough, body-shaking sobs.

He pushed himself to the edge of the bed and brushed his fingers along her cheek. “Hey.”

She looked up, eyes red, and she whispered, “I’m so sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, cringing as he pulled her into him. She was gentle, careful for the wound as she buried her face into his neck.

“Feyre said she let it slip,” Nesta said, words muddled against his skin. “But I’m too shocked to be pissed, even though my reaction should be to kick her little ass.”

Cassian huffed a laugh, keeping perfectly still as his arm slid around her. Every ounce of his body cried to call for the nurse and get more pain meds in his system, but he’d wait. “Nesta-.”

“I promise I didn’t know,” Nesta said, voice quiet. “I promise I was told, years ago, that I couldn’t get pregnant, Cass.”

She leaned back and he caught the genuine fear in her eyes. He felt ashamed for doubting her, even for a second.

“I know,” he breathed. “I trust you.”

“I…” she sighed, shaking her head, her words falling short. “I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be,” he said, taking her chin gently in his hand and forcing her to meet his gaze. “I’m not mad. Shocked, completely fucking shocked...but I’m not mad.”

They sat there for a moment, looking at each other, not saying a word. Neither of them had said it yet, but they were both thinking it.

“We’re having a baby,” Nesta breathed.

Cassian took a deep breath and nodded. “We’re having a baby.”

She could see he tried his hardest not to, but the grin was infectious. She began to smile as well. The tears slowed, but didn’t stop.

“I’m scared,” she said, voice small.

“It’s okay,” he whispered, brushing the wild wisps of hair out of her eyes. “I’m not going anywhere, okay? I’m going to be there, every step of the way. I love you, and I’m not going anywhere, alright?”

She nodded.

“It’s okay to be scared,” he went on, that low voice soothing. “I’m scared, too.”

She met his gaze with a wistful smile. For a moment, neither of them said a word, but then Nesta frowned. “What the fuck are you doing? Lie back down. Does the nurse even know you’re awake?”

Cassian rolled his eyes. “I am lying down.”

“All the way, against the pillows,” she ordered, already on her feet to reach for the remote on the side of his bed. She pressed the nurse call button.

He groaned. “Nes, I’m fine, they’ll probably release me today and-.”

“You took a round to the chest!” She said, voice rising.

She didn’t want to cry anymore, but damn it, every time she closed her eyes, she would see him lying in his own blood. “You have to take it easy,” she said, after taking a deep breath. She placed a protective hand over her still flat stomach. “We both do. Doctor’s orders.”

Cassian’s jaw locked, but he nodded, nonetheless. “Fine.”

The door swung open and the nurse came in. She gave Cassian a bright smile. “Glad to see you awake. How are you feeling?”

“Like I got shot,” Cassian said, that grin returning.

The nurse chuckled. “Well, the doctor is allowing you to go home today. He has prescribed you pain meds and wants to make sure you don’t live alone.”

Cassian opened his mouth to reply, but Nesta was already saying, “He doesn’t.”

“Good,” the nurse said, taking Cassian’s vitals. “You’ll need to take it easy for the next few weeks. I’ve made you a follow up appointment for next week. Other than that, no physical activity of any kind. Your doctor will tell you more at your follow-up, but until then, rest as much as possible. Even if the meds are working really good and you feel like getting up and doing stuff...don’t.”

“I guess now is a bad time to mention I run a ranch,” he said, opening and closing his left fist, trying to get used to the sling he’d woken up in.

Nesta’s eyebrows rose at his words, but she said nothing.

The nurse chuckled and scribbled something on a clipboard, tucking it back into its slot at the end of the bed. “Well, I’d say it’s time to look into hiring a ranch hand.”

She left without another word and Cassian mumbled, “I am the ranch hand.”

“Azriel and Rhysand said they’ll help,” Nesta said, when they were alone. “And my sisters. And I’ll help, too.”

“You’re pregnant,” Cassian said.

“Pregnant, not useless,” Nesta shot back. “I can still help.”

Cassian sighed, nodding. “I know, I just… I can’t just sit back and relax.”

“It’s only temporary,” Nesta said.

Cassian took a moment to think about all the things he did every day. Sure, with the five of them, it should be fine. But they all four had real world jobs, with real world schedules. Well, all but Rhys. His would change every few weeks, depending on who’s rotation he was on. And the rolls of hay he fed the horses, those weighed damn near seven or eight hundred pounds, and that’s if they were bone dry. The image of Elain and Feyre trying desperately to move a sopping wet, heavy roll of hay made him chuckle.

Nesta looked at him and he sighed. “Having a ranch hand around might not be a bad idea, but only until I’m healed.” He carefully pressed a hand to his bandaged chest and winced. “But it’s only temporary,” he said, repeating Nesta’s words.

“Exactly,” she whispered. “Now, let’s get you home.”

Rhysand came in with a bag of clothes Azriel had brought. Once he was dressed and discharged, the whole bloodied crew walked out into the early evening light. Even though they all had changed and were no longer covered in Cassian’s blood, they all needed a serious shower. Nesta could still feel the dried blood in strands of her hair.

Feyre and Rhysand dropped them off at the ranch and into Nesta’s little house. She was going to take him to the main house and into the master bedroom, but the thought of all those stairs had Cassian cringing.

So he helped himself, despite everyone’s protests, up the three steps of the front porch and through the front door, then into Nesta’s bedroom, where he slowly laid back against the blankets.

“Call if you need anything,” Feyre said, only for Rhysand to repeat the statement. She promised she would then they were off.

Cassian had already fallen asleep, Beau now laying at his feet, when Nesta padded into the washroom for a shower.

She turned the water on, turning the handle as far to the left as it would do, and waited until steam poured out over the frosted glass door and stepped in. Nesta hissed as the stream hit her back, scalding her, but also making her feel...something.

The last couple of days had been some of the worst of Nesta’s life. She had moments where she couldn’t breathe, where she could barely find the strength to keep going. Especially when she had no idea where Cassian’s life sat in limbo.

She leaned her forehead against the tile, doing her best to quiet the sob that tore from her. She had done her best to be strong while they were at the hospital. The only time she’d cried was in the waiting room and when she finally got to see that Cassian was alive and well.

And when she’d found out she was pregnant.

She’d stared at Elain, not sure if she’d heard her right, but when she repeated herself, and showed Nesta the positive pregnancy test on her scans, Nesta had started sobbing.

She’d cried because she was scared. She had no idea how to bring a child into the world, only that it hurt like hell. She’d cried because she had no idea how Cassian was going to respond. This wasn’t planned, it was the opposite. This was unexpected. She’d cried because she was shocked. She didn’t even know what to say, no words could encompass how she felt.

But mostly, she cried because she was so, so happy.

With her forehead pressed against the tile wall, Nesta pressed a protective hand over her stomach, no sign of the precious life showing inside.

She was going to be a mother.

To Cassian's child.

Cassian, who she loved, who almost left the world far too soon.

It was so incredibly overwhelming.

She stayed in the shower until her eyes dried, until there were no tears left to cry. She stayed until the water turned lukewarm and she no longer felt Cassian's blood on her skin. She stayed until she was yawning, until she longed for her own bed, lying next to him.

The water turned off and she got out and dried off before walking back into her bedroom, where Cassian laid, scrolling through his phone.

The second she walked across the threshold, his eyes raked over her naked body. Then, he said, eyes narrowed, “You were crying.”

Nesta didn’t deny it, but she walked to the other side of her bed, where her dresser was. “It’s been a long few days.”

“Yeah,” Cassian said, quietly. “Hey, come here.”

Nesta slipped on her panties before walking over to her bedside and falling onto her bed, next to Cassian. He watched her with soft, gentle eyes.

“You know you can talk to me, truthfully, about anything, right?” He asked, quietly.

“Of course.” She was thankful that months of sleeping next to each other had already obligated their sides of the bed. She was also thankful that his side was the left side, allowing her to carefully curl into his side, throw her leg over his hips and snuggle into his neck. “I’m just…processing.”

“Processing is okay,” he mumbled, turning her lips to his. “I just want to know that you’re okay.”

“I am,” she said, or will be, she thought.

Sleep.

She needed sleep.

It wasn’t five minutes later that she drifted into a deep, unyielding sleep. She slept perfectly, dreamless, which after the last few days, she welcomed a peaceful night.

She awoke, feeling rested, the next morning, thanks to the sunlight streaming in through the windows, and Beau hopping off the foot of the bed.

Nesta still laid in her panties, a thin blanket tossed over her, but she was completely alone. She shot up, panic setting in.

“Cassian?” She called, knowing full well that she was being frantic, but didn’t care, not after all that had happened.

“Calm down,” he said, deep voice floating into the bedroom. “I’m taking a piss.”

With a relieved sigh, Nesta fell back against the pillows.

He gripped the door frame as he appeared, slowly making his way back into the bedroom. “Are you okay?”

She was immediately up, rounding the bed and wrapping her arm around his good side. She took as much of his weight as she could, which wasn’t much. “I’m fine. You should have asked for help.”

“I’ve been using the bathroom by myself for twenty-seven years,” he said, groaning as she helped him settle back into the pillows. “I think I can handle it.”

“Yeah, well, you’re recovering from a bullet in your chest now, so that changes things.” She leveled a look at him and grabbed one of his ratty, old t-shirts from his designated drawer in the dresser. She padded down the hall towards the kitchen. “I’m going to make coffee, do you want some?”

“Please.” He yawned and froze, grabbing for his phone. “Shit, what time is it?”

Nesta’s voice floated from the kitchen. “Quarter after eight. We slept hard.”

He didn’t reply, because he was reading the text messages on his phone.

When she came back, mugs in hand, she still found him reading. “Everything okay?” He didn’t answer. She hurried to him, setting their coffees on the nightstand and sitting next to him on the edge of the bed. “Cassian, what is it?”

He blinked. “They… they took care of everything.”

She softly smiled. “They said they would.”

It was still surprising though. Thank the cauldron Rhys had worked for Isaac as well all those years ago, and that he knew not only what he was doing, but where everything was kept. He was also very thankful that Isaac had instilled the same work ethic into Feyre and Elain that he had in Nesta.

“They want you to rest, my love.” She pressed a kiss to his forehead before standing. “Which is exactly what you should be doing.”

She turned, heading for the bathroom herself, but he caught her wrist, tugging her back lightly. “You should be, too.”

She stood right at the edge of the bed and he leaned over pressing the gentlest of kisses to her stomach.

Nesta’s eyes softened as she ran her fingers through his hair. “Why do I feel like you’re going to be spoiling me?”

“Because I am,” he muttered against her skin, giving her another feather-like kiss.

“I don’t like to be spoiled,” Nesta muttered, grinning.

“Liar,” Cassian crooned, then leaned back against the pillows, face distorted.

Nesta took the pill bottle off the bedside table and handed him one with a bottle of water. “Take it.”

He groaned, but didn’t protest.

“I have work to do to get ready for opening day,” Nesta said. Including cleaning the stables, she thought. “If you need me, call me.”

“No, no.” Cassian held onto her. “You’re not working today either. No, you’re staying here.”

She rolled her eyes. “I’m only seven weeks pregnant, Cass, not seven months. I can still do pretty much everything I was doing before I found out.”

He didn’t budge. “What if I said I wanted you to stay with me?”

“I’d say that I love you, but we have things we have to do.”

“You may not like to be spoiled but I do,” he murmured.

Nesta snorted as she walked to the dresser and pulled out shorts and a tee shirt to pull on. “I promise I’ll spoil you this afternoon.”

“You better,” he said, sighing. “Until then Beau will have to spoil me.” As if in answer, Beau let out a big yawn and rolled over to go back to sleep. “Thanks, bud. I know I can always count on you.”

Nesta chuckled and kissed his forehead. “I love you.”

“Love you.” Cassian reached for the remote control and flipped through the channels and Nesta went into the bathroom to get ready.

Thirty minutes later, travel mug in hand, Nesta opened her front door, ready to head up to the house and see what needed her attention.

And was met with two police officers.

She let out a small yelp and pressed her hand to her heart.

“Sorry, Miss,” the older cop said, gently. “Are you Nesta Archeron?”

“I… yes,” Nesta began, hesitantly.

“We’re here about the incident that happened here the other night,” the one went on, while the younger cop remained silent.

“Okay,” she said, slowly.

“May we ask you some questions?”

“Of course,” Nesta said, leaning back against the doorframe.

“Can you tell us what happened?” The older one asked.

She pursed her lips and said, “My sister’s insane ex-boyfriend crashed her wedding, got drunk, and shot my boyfriend.”

The younger of the two, flipped through his notepad. “Would that be… Cassian Nazari?”

“Was there someone else who got shot that night?”

Nesta turned, finding Cassian limping from the bedroom.

“Mr. Nazari?” He asked.

“Cassian,” he said, extending his good hand to both officers. They accepted and he said, “You find the asshole who did this to me yet?”

The older cop hesitated. “Yes, but he was let out on bail. You may be needed to testify in court, when his hearing comes, but we wanted to come get a statement-.”

“He’s not in jail?” Nesta asked, exasperated. “He fucking almost killed-“

“It’s okay,” Cassian said, softly, his hand a gentle support on her elbow. “I’ll be there.”

“Good,” the cop said. “We’ve taken your statement, Miss Archeron, and it will be filed in the report. Is there anything else you wish to be recorded?”

There’s a lot I’d like to say, Nesta thought, but she remained tight lipped and silent.

“Tamlin was trying to shoot the groom, Rhysand Lunasa,” Cassian went on. “I got hit by mistake. I’m sure you’ll be wanting a note from the surgeon, but I nearly died. He was drunk, yeah, but Tamlin knew what he was doing.”

“And Mr. Lunasa, he’s the one who performed triage until the ambulance arrived?” He asked.

“Yes,” Cassian said, nodding. “He’s an EMT.”

The older one asked, “Miss Archeron, we noticed you recently returned from living in Europe for an extended period. You don’t think this could have anything to do with the attack?”

Nesta opened her mouth to reply, but Cassian said, “That’s irrelevant. She moved her after the death of her father. This was a targeted attack that went wrong, and you should have never let him bail out.”

The younger cop froze while the older cop’s eyes narrowed. “You may want to watch your tone, boy.”

“With all due respect,” Cassian went on, “I just had to be rushed into emergency surgery because a bullet nearly hit my heart. I want my pregnant girlfriend to be able to sleep well at night, and that may be kind of hard to do with the guy that almost murdered me, and intended to murder my best friend, her brother-in-law, still walking around.”

Nesta knew that tone.

Cassian was pissed.

And he had the right to be.

The older cop’s eyes softened as he let out a sigh. “I understand your concern, but that is out of my hands. The court date is next Monday. If you need help or have concerns before then, call the station.”

“Will do,” Cassian said, voice like ice. “Have a nice day, officers.” He wrapped an arm around Nesta’s waist and pulled her back into the house, closing the door and locking it, for good measure.

She walked into the kitchen and braced her hands on the counter.

“Nes-.”

“They let him out on bail? Are you fucking kidding me?”

He limped over to the kitchen, turning her around and pulling her into his side. “I know, baby. It’s bullshit, but there’s no defense. They’ll lock him up and-.”

She shook her head and pushed on his stomach carefully. “He’ll be in the wind. He’s not going to stick around. I need to call Feyre.”

Cassian opened his mouth to protest, but then he nodded, slowly. Nesta hated to put such a damper on Feyre and Rhysand’s newlywed days, too, but this was crucial. Her sister had to know. She called Feyre, who answered on the second ring, and gave her a quick overview. For the entire phone call, Cassian stood on the threshold of the kitchen, watching, waiting, concerned.

His eyes were full of worry as he beheld Nesta.

She hated that look, that concern. Worrying about her would do him no good.

The second she hung up the phone she let out a loud, frustrated noise in the silent kitchen. Beau instantly reacted, hurrying into the kitchen to see what was the matter.

“This is so fucked up,” Nesta breathed, shaking her head vigorously. “This is so fucked up!”

“Nes,” Cassian warned.

“No,” she said, and she knew she was crying, knew she looked panicked, looked ridiculous in her current state, but she didn’t care. She sobbed, her body shaking. “This is so fucked up, Cass. They’ve been married for mere days and they have to worry about Feyre’s ex? He fucking shot you, Cass! He nearly killed you, you nearly died! I find out I’m pregnant, and you almost die.”

The look in Cassian’s eyes shattered as he attempted to take a step forward, but the meds had yet to kick in, and he had already been moving more than he should have been. “Nesta, I need you to relax, stress isn’t good for the baby-.”

“Relax?” she breathed. “What makes you think I can relax right now? He can be out there anywhere. He could be on our property!”

“He’s not though,” Cassian said, gripping the door frame, the room beginning to spin. “He’s- he’s long gone, and-.” With a deep breath, he turned and started for the bedroom. “Nes, I gotta lay down.” He held onto the wall as he walked and felt Nesta under his arm a second later. “You’re going to strain yourself.”

She asked, “Would you rather fall on your face?”

He didn’t think that warranted a response. She helped him back into bed. He fell back, a hand pressed to his wound. Nesta watched and her heart broke. “I… Cass…”

She was powerless to stop the sob that broke from her. Cassian felt powerless to help.

“Sweetheart, please.” He held his hand out to her. She shook her head.

“I don’t- I don’t even know why I’m crying,” she said, burying her face in her hands.

“You’re overwhelmed, Nes, you need to breathe.” Cassian reached out, rubbing her lower back. “Why don’t you take a warm bath?”

She shook her head. “I need to go start trying to clean-.”

“Nesta, so help me God, you’re carrying my child. You can’t be stressing out. I will call Azriel. He’ll handle it.”

She fell onto the bed, beside him, sobbing uncontrollably as he rubbed her back in slow, soothing circles. She knew he didn’t feel comforted, knew he was in pain, knew the past few days had just as much affect on him as they had on her, if not more, but he said nothing. All he did was comfort her, his love, the mother of his child.

“I need sleep,” she said, as she cried. “I need fucking wine but I can’t fucking have it anymore.”

Cassian’s hand stilled, as if he wanted to say something, but it quickly began, once more. Those small circles being drawn on her back was all that kept her from completely losing her shit.

Her sobs eventually turned into nothingness. Beau’s chin was resting on her leg as Cassian continued to rub her back. She felt guilty. She should have been the one comforting him, but she didn’t stop his soft, soothing fingers.

“Sleep,” he said. “Rest, Nesta, take a day to yourself. Stay here with me, collect your thoughts. You can start on your stuff tomorrow. For today...just relax. Please.”

She sniffled, the only sound the tv on some mindless show in the background, and nodded. “I need to make an appointment, to see my doctor.”

Cass nodded. “I’ll get your phone.” Nesta raised her head and just stared at him. “Or I’ll stay right here and let you go get it.”

“Exactly.” She rolled over and laid her hand on her stomach, looking down at it. “You’re already messing with mommy’s emotions, aren’t you?”

Mommy.

Cassian’s throat tightened as he looked at her. He couldn’t help but imagine what she was going to look like in a few months, belly rounded out, carrying his baby.

“Nes, I- I know all of this was unexpected and probably not the best timing, but…” He cleared his throat, surprised that his voice was wavering. “I don’t think I’ve ever been this happy. Ever.”

Nesta’s eyes softened as she looked up at him. “I’m happy too, Cass. You’re right...it’s not the best timing...but, I’m happy, too.”

Cassian reached up to brush her hair behind her ear. “You’re going to be an amazing mother.”

“I don’t know about that,” Nesta answered, in all honesty. She had gotten used to never imagining herself as a mother, much less being a good one. “But you’re going to be one hell of a father.”

“A family,” Cassian breathed, and she recognized the look in his eyes. A family was something that Cassian never had, but wanted so desperately. “Me, you, and baby.”

“Yeah,” she whispered, and despite herself, laughed, quietly. “A family,”

“We’re going to get through this, Nes,” he said, meeting her gaze. “And when we do, it’s going to be beautiful.”

“You’re just saying that to make me feel better,” she mumbled, as she scrolled through her phone for her doctor’s number.

“And did it?” he asked. “Make you feel better?”

“A little,” she confessed, setting her phone down to meet his tired gaze.

“Stay with me today,” he begged, quietly. “Spoil me. Tomorrow, I’ll let you work your ass off...but, today, be lazy with me. Please.”

She nibbled on her bottom lip, calculating all she had to get done before the opening of the B&B next week, but she nodded, slowly. “Fine.”

Cassian smiled. “Thank you, now part one of spoiling me includes taking a relaxing bath.” He pointed to the bathroom. “Go.”

Nesta nodded and leaned up to kiss his cheek. “Okay. Then how about I make breakfast?”

Cassian chuckled. “Sounds perfect, because I’m starving.”

Nesta shook her head and climbed off the bed, stopping at her dresser for clean clothes, but Cassian said, “Oh, and part two of spoiling me is getting out of the bathtub naked, sorry, I don’t make the rules.”

Nesta rolled her eyes but didn’t protest as she went into the bathroom, stripped down, and started to fill the tub. She could hear him in the bedroom, watching something sports related on the t.v. as she sunk into the water. It filled up around her as she closed her eyes, then turned the faucet off with her toes. She tried to push the thoughts out of her mind, tried to push away her fears and anxieties, but it only worked so much. Nonetheless, she did her best to relax before washing herself with her favorite lavender soap and pulling the plug to let the water drain.

She dried herself off, brushed out her hair, and rubbed lotion all over her body before entering the bedroom.

Cassian was already looking at the doorway, apparently having heard her approaching.

Beau was sound asleep on the rug, snoring softly as Nesta meandered into the room.

The look in Cassian’s eyes had her toes curling.

“No physical activity,” Nesta warned. “Doctor’s orders.”

“The doctor has never seen your tits.” His voice was deeper than normal, slower, and she climbed into bed next to him, seeing his eyes glassy, she knew why.

“How do those pain meds got you feeling?” She chuckled, knowing they’d finally worked their way into his system.

He shrugged, but wrapped his good arm around her waist, pulling her against his body. His nose was in her damp hair, breathing deeply and inhaling her scent. “Like I could make you feel good.”

Nesta chuckled as she settled back into the pillow and stole the remote from him, turning it from the football highlights and flipping through channels. Cassian protested and said, “I was watching that…” Without looking at him, Nesta flipped the top half of the blanket down, exposing her bare chest. He nodded and said, “Remote is yours, yes, ma’am.”

He fell against her shoulder, his mouth finding its way against her neck. She chuckled, flipping through the stations. “Cass.”

“Hmmm,” he mumbled, tongue brushing her skin, kisses trailing down to her collarbone.

“Rest,” she ordered.

“I am,” he argued.

“You are not,” she laughed, then pushed him back by his forehead.

He frowned, then yawned. “Your tits help me relax.”

“My tits make you do the opposite of relax. I’m putting on a shirt.”

“No.” He laughed, quietly, pulling on her hand before she could move. “I’ll be good. I promise.”

She found a lifetime movie that could play in the background and laid his hand on her stomach. She curled up against him and sighed.

“What’s on your mind?” He asked, his thumb rubbing slow circles against her abdomen.

“Just…how we’re going to do all of this.” At his questioning glance, she went on. “Run a newly reopened B&B, maintain the ranch, and juggle a newborn? It’s only the two of us and we’re about to need a lot more hands. Not to mention who knows how long until you’ll be back to work.”

He pressed a kiss to her forehead. “I’ll be back at it next week. I don’t really give a shit what the doctor says, we’ve got animals that count on me.” He saw the protest in her eyes but forged on before she could interrupt. “As for the B&B, maybe we should hire a manager or an assistant for you. Something to help with the business side of it. And lastly, we’re going to have the most badass kid of all time, he’ll be helping us on the ranch before you know it.”

Nesta glanced up at him. “He?”

Cassian’s cheeks reddened, not even realizing he’d made that slip. “I’ve always wanted a boy first. I want someone I can play with, get rough with. I want a built in roping partner. I’ll be over the moon if we have a girl, don’t get me wrong. But gods, I want a boy.”

Nesta looked up at him and kissed his cheek, softly, before saying, “If it is a boy, I hope he looks just like his daddy.”

Cassian's smile was so genuine and bright and utterly beautiful that Nesta couldn’t help but kiss him, once more, slowly, tenderly, on his lips.

They laid like that for hours until morning turned into afternoon, until they both fell asleep, peacefully, wrapped in each other’s arms.

#the ranch nessian #sharacollab #shara writes #snacmc #tacmc snelbz collab #theranchnessian #nessian #acotar #acomaf #acowar #acofas #acosf

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captains-writing-desk · 3 years

Text

Inappropriate

Universe: BBC Sherlock

Character: Mycroft Holmes

Type: F!Reader insert (I, me, we)

Words: 2,011

Warnings: Swearing.

Note: Jesus lads... This was quite cathartic to write in a way. Took some interesting turns... I won’t lie it almost took a different turn towards the end with cheekiness ;)

Mycroft joins you on a walk after you get angry with him and his brother. Awkward angsty fluffiness ensues.

“Deduce me again Mycroft Holmes and I’ll see to it that you suffer.” I spoke without lifting my eyes from my reading material. He immediately averted his gaze and idly rolled his palm over the handle of his umbrella. “And tell your shit of a brother he can stop fucking trying too.” My voice did not waver once and remained low in tone- perhaps making it more sinister.

“I am right here.” The brother muttered from his arm chair and I raised my brow, peaking over the top of the newspaper for one moment just to reiterate, “Personally.”

“Well we can’t help it can we, it’s something we’ve always done, it’s not our fault that you’re more fun to try. “ Sherlock never knew when to shut up which was one trait Mycroft at least had the decency to inhabit.

“You CAN help by not turning me into a game.” Mycroft looked rather offended as did his brother, “Don’t look at me like that. You’re hardly sneaky about it, seeing who can get a deduction first and just how much fucking money have you both put into this hm? Acting shocked as if you were being so fucking sneaky, you haven’t fooled anybody... Dickheads.”

“I’m sorry, you turned someone’s trauma into a game?” John piped up emerging from the kitchen , my eyes narrowed at him.

“You boys should be ashamed of yourselves. Such an awful thing to do.” Mrs. Hudson followed from the kitchen who was met with a direct glare and with that, I folded the paper up neatly and rose to my feet.

“I rather despise this household sometimes. I’m going for a walk.” I’d had quite enough of this nonsense and had thrown my coat on and shut the front door behind me before anyone could speak up.

“Rather foul mouthed isn’t she?” Sherlock commented.

“Hot blooded.” John hummed in agreement.

“I find it rather endearing, oddly.” Mycroft mused as the room openly stared at him which he took as his cue to also leave.

“I’ll scream.” Mr. Government had caught up to me and I just couldn’t be hassled to deal with him and yet, he persisted.

“I don’t doubt that. Bare in mind however, that we are in London. Nobody would even flinch if you screamed.” He reasoned.

“What if I screamed 'bomb' and threw something?” Highly insensitive yes but I was angry.

“I stand corrected.”

“Yes and what a lovely mess that’ll leave you to deal with.”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” His voice a little grave.

“Then perhaps you should bugger off hm?”

“Perhaps.” Yet he remained by my side even as my pace quickened, the swearing had subsided a little so I couldn’t be quite as angry right?

“Where exactly are you walking to?” I suppose my route made no sense to him, then again, made no sense to me either.

“Why do you want to know? Just follow.”

“So I can follow you now? No need to ‘bugger off'?” He was amused, but not at his comment, rather at the fact I would let him tag along. Not amusement, elation.

“You would be following me regardless and by that standard all you need to know is which way I am pointing and that will be where you’re going too.”

“I see. So we are just wandering aimlessly?”

“I am wandering aimlessly. YOU are wandering after me.” Why did that make him feel stupid? Perhaps it made him think too much into why he liked to stay around me as long as he could.

“Yes, sir.” He was making it seem like my fault, as if I’m ordering him to follow me. Can’t say I minded it.

We made it to Whitehall gardens and ambled through, staring at the flora that had started to turn with the autumnal weather. I was hungry now as I walked through the park and down to the embankment so I bought a pretzel from a little hut whilst Mycroft trailed behind on the phone about something so I expected him to leave soon.

I sat myself down on the wall with one leg tucked underneath myself so that my body was turned slightly and I could gaze through the bars my back rested against and watch the river.

Moments later Mycroft came and sat next to me, mirroring my pose only with his leg crossed over the other instead and he watched me for a moment until I looked at him.

“You can go. I’m quite happy sat here.” Not that he needed my permission to go but it felt as if I needed to remind myself that he could go, that I didn’t need him with me.

“I’ve got nowhere to be.” He raised a brow when he saw me relax, a wave of relief washing over me then the lamposts all turned on, what with the shorter autumnal days. I glanced around at the red leaves now lit up in this strange new light then back to Mycroft who had an amused smile fringing on his lips.

“Good,” I smiled, feeling an odd new confidence, “Do you mind if I stay here a bit longer?”

“Not at all.” He leaned back on the rails slightly as I took a bite of my pretzel, still warm from the vendor.

“Here.” I noticed Mycroft pull the sleeves of his coat down a little from the cold so I tore the pretzel in half and offered him a piece. ‘Does he even like common food?’ I thought and laughed internally at how odd that sounded. “It’s warm” I added still holding it to him. He thought about it as if it was a big decision but eventually took it.

“Thank you.” He smiled, thankful for the bit of warmth it provided him.

“It won’t kill you. Probably.” I looked out across the river feigning being suspicious.

“I’ll take my chances.” He chuckled and took a bite, humming at how surprisingly nice it was as I took the last bite of my own half and shook the crumbs of my hands then tucked them between my thighs to keep them warm.

Once he finished his half he turned further towards me and leaned in slightly.

“I apologise for earlier. It was uncouth of me.” He cleared his throat nervously but looked directly into my eyes where I saw the sincerity in his apology.

“It’s alright, You can’t help it. Besides,” I sighed, “I know you do it often- both of you. I suppose today I wasn’t in the best of moods to put up with it.” Truth be told I’d had a shit day. The sort of day where everyone I encountered decided to make my day worse than the last person had.

“Did anything happen?” He asked and I looked at my hands for a moment before furrowing my brows and looking back up to him.

“I’m not traumatised you know? That’s just John’s theory on me.” I wasn’t sure why I started with that but I suppose it did feed into why my day was crap but more than anything really, I felt the need to explain myself to Mycroft. Maybe explain why I was so difficult and rude. He sensed I had more to say and let me finish.

“Truthfully I'm not really sure what’s wrong with me. I just can’t seem to figure out how to figure out what I feel or what to do. Some things I understand but then I just get overwhelmed to point where I just numb down. I can’t quite explain it but I it just makes me cold and it scares me. I never used to be like this and I don’t mean to be cold but I just am. Then when people point it out it makes me feel like shit and I get agitated but with the wrong people.” I started to choke up, “So I don’t know. I don’t mean to be that way.” I looked down at my hands and started fidgeting to distract myself.

“You’re not cold. I’m sure anyone that knows you can tell you that. You’re perfectly fine the way you are.” He made no great speech just a simple reassurance and it was that- reassuring. “I've never understood people. They are idiots.” He summarised and I laughed.

“That is true. Yes. Mycroft I-“ I looked at him and he leaned in expectantly, “I didn’t mean to unload all that on you.” I shot him an apologetic look.

“It’s quite alright. I’m glad you felt you could say it though. That and it’s my job to make people talk sometimes.” He joked.

“Don’t pull that crap. I did it because I needed to not because you made me. I'd never crack in an interrogation.” I teased.

“We shall see.” He lifted his brow and watched me carefully.

“Did I not say that you would suffer if I caught you deducing me again?” You narrowed your eyes at him with a smile threatening to escape.

“You did.” Though he didn’t stop watching and even cocked his brow playfully which surprised me. Was he flirting? A sadistic smile slowly crept up my face.

“Are you flirting with me?” I returned the scrutinising look and he was taken aback.

“Excuse me?” He recoiled.

“You heard me. Are you flirting with me?” I demanded now, leaning in to catch his eyes until he finally looked at me. “You are flirting.” I could see it in his eyes and I was surprised by my own realisation and honestly elated though I tried to conceal it. Though now I had no idea what to say.

“I’m sorry if I was inappropriate.” He finally spoke, breaking my train of racing thoughts then he stood up. My heart skipped a beat, I didn’t want him to leave. He turned to me and I looked up at him with my brows furrowed, unsure how to proceed. “Perhaps I should l-.“ I pushed myself into my knees, grabbing the lapels of his coat and kissed him. I knew what he was going to say and leaving was not an option so I panicked. I pulled away and searched his shocked expression.

“There.” I took a deep breath and sank back to sit on the feels of my feet, “Now we’ve both done something inappropriate.” I laughed nervously under my breath, drowning in my own awkwardness and searching for any words to say to make this moment go away. I definitely misread the situation, he was definitely not flirting. My head flopped into my hands and I groaned.

“I fucked up... I’m sorry.” I mumbled through my fingers. I only wanted to tease him, make him suffer a little, but now we were both suffering for the wrong reasons.

“You didn’t fuck up.” Mycroft’s voice was gentle as his palm rested between my shoulder blades, pulling me forward until my head rested against his stomach. I really hoped he would forgive me for this cock up but I couldn’t bring myself to show my face, now or ever. However, we couldn’t stay like this forever so he grabbed my hand that was still glued to my face in shame and he urged me to stand up. My legs felt like they barely worked but I managed to sort of flop to my feet in front of him , dropping my other hand to my side and just stared at his chest. He let go of my hand and if my heart could drop any further it would have but instead, it shot up into my throat when he grabbed my waist with both hands. I looked up to see him smile then pull me into him as he lowered his lips to my own.

He pulled back to look at me fluttering my eyes open and staring slack jawed.

“You didn’t fuck up.” He repeated and squeezed my waist reassuringly which snapped me out of my daze. I bit my lip trying to stop the smile they crept onto my lips.

#sherlock #reader insert #mycroft x reader #mycroft x you #mycroft holmes #mycroft holmes x reader #fanfiction

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kittyprincessofcats · 3 years

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RWBY Volume 8, Episode 13 (Worthy)

Well, wow. That sure was an episode that happened.

Thoughts under the cut.

Anyone who leaves spoilers for episode 14 on this will get blocked.

- First of all, I want to now talk about the spoiler I saw for this episode last week, to put the anger from my last post into context: After I had just finished watching episodes 8-12 and started writing my post about them, I went into one of the RWBY tags bc I’m dumb and saw a post that said (I don’t remember the exact words, but more or less): “I’m so glad Yang is finally dead, so now her fans can shut up about her and everyone can ship Blacksun instead.”

… Yeah. Imagine seeing that when you haven’t seen the actual episode and have no idea what really happened. I honestly completely panicked for a few minutes, before remembering I don’t actually know anything and this might just be a “Weiss gets impaled in Volume 5, but one episode later it turns out she’ll be fine” situation. So then I had to look up what actually happened to Yang, because otherwise I wouldn’t have been able to sleep. So, to the person who made that post: Fuck you. Not only did you freak people out for no reason (because come on, there’s no way falling into the void actually kills you – and even if it does, we at least definitely don’t know that for sure after episode 13), but even if Yang had actually died, it’s super shitty that your first reaction to a beloved queer character’s death would be “yay, now people can ship my m/f ship instead”. Like, I don’t care if you personally dislike Yang/ dislike Bumbleby/ prefer Blacksun – show a little bit of decency.

Phew. Sorry, I had to get that off my chest because it really made me angry. Now let’s get into the actual episode:

- “Worthy” as a title pretty much already made me predict that Cinder would succeed in her plan, since “you have to be worthy” was what Watts told her in his speech. She’s gotten the message and is now back to efficient plans – and while I love to see it, it also very much scares me when it comes to our heroes’ survival chances. The last time Cinder was doing well, we lost Pyrrha, so… help.

- And gosh, this whole episode was so intense! I feel like it mostly set up a bunch of very intense situations that are going to escalate in the last episode that I’m very much not ready for.

- I still think the whole central location between the worlds is really beautiful, if dangerous. (They should have specified to Ambrosius that they want handrails or something.)

- Nora using her hammer like a witch’s broom was amazing.

- I also loved the scene with Jaune and the people at the train station; that was really funny.

- The middle of the desert might not have been the best place for the exit. Didn’t the group consider that there might be a sandstorm or something else unpredictable out there? Couldn’t they have picked a better exit point?

- Cinder causing an explosion in the middle of the evacuation that throws multiple people into the void was bad and all – but it was still one hell of an entrance!

- I love that now that Cinder realized that she has to rely on teamwork, she’s suddenly being so nice to everyone. Apologizing to Neo, complimenting Watts on “tearing the kingdom apart with nothing but his intellect”, that soft “You deserve this, Arthur”, complimenting Team RWBY on their plan, thanking them for teaching her “one last lesson”. Yeah, maybe she’s just talking to Neo and Watts like this because she needs their help, and to Team RWBY because she’s confident she’ll win – but it’s still amazing to see the shift in her attitude and how she’s clearly changed her tactic.

- It’s insane to me that some people correctly predicted that Cinder would ask Jinn the last question based JUST on the fact that there’s a part in the opening where everyone else freezes in time while she walks past them. Holy hell! I love trying to guess stuff based on the intro, but I would have never thought that far.

- Cinder’s question to Jinn seems like a waste considering it was Jinn’s last question, but maybe it just seems that way to us as viewers because Jinn didn’t reveal anything we didn’t already know. Was it the right thing for Cinder to do? I don’t know, to be honest. Yes, it did give her the chance to ruin the heroes’ plans, but I have a feeling Salem won’t be happy about the question being gone. Pretty sure Salem was going to ask Jinn how to get the Beacon relic, and now she can’t do that. (Cinder ruining Salem’s plans for the beacon relic? Let that be foreshadowing, please.) I mean, maybe it’s worth it from Salem’s POV if it gets them the staff and then she’ll have 2 of the 4 relics – but they could have still gotten the staff later, while I don’t know if Salem has any plan B for the beacon relic. And I’m a little worried about Cinder now. I always thought that Salem wouldn’t kill Cinder no matter what, because she still needs the Fall Maiden for the beacon relic – but if she now has to wait another 100 years for the beacon relic anyway, I’m not sure if she’ll have a reason to keep Cinder alive. (And I’m still worried about that “Some lives will end much too soon” line playing over that scene of Cinder clutching her Grimm arm in the opening.) I also wonder if Cinder even knew that this was Jinn’s last question. Did Jinn even tell her that? Also, when will the 100 years even be up? Do the questions just reset every 100 years regardless of when they were used? So maybe we’re already at year 80 or something and will only have to wait 20 years?

- The cut from everyone at the central command place screaming to them being dead was kinda funny in a “very dark humour” way.

- When Harriet first jumped onto that ship with the bomb, I, like an idiot, thought that she was finally being sensible and trying to get the bomb as far away from Atlas and Mantle as possible, not that she was trying to still drop it on Mantle. She and Ironwood might as well be working for Salem’s team at this point, because they’re doing everything to help the villains’ plan. And the villains are even counting on it! Watts freed Ironwood from his cell and is piloting Harriet’s ship. Those two are just straight up helping Salem’s team in their attempts to… what was it? Save Atlas?

- Ironwood killing Jacques was awful and proves once again that Ironwood has zero morals left. And I didn’t like Jacques, but that was the kind of death that absolutely no one deserves. He had no way to escape or fight back, he was defenseless, locked up in a prison cell with nowhere to run – that’s not just a murder, that’s an execution without a trial. And Jacques wasn’t even a threat, he wasn’t in the way of any of Ironwood’s plans. Ironwood killed him literally just because he could. And no one who thinks they’re the good guy (and Ironwood still thinks he’s the good guy) should go around just killing people who aren’t even a threat.

- And then we have Yang falling into the void. Honestly, as heartbreaking as Blake’s sobs and anger are, I kind of love this from a “supreme angst, let’s see my faves suffer” perspective. That said, Yang better actually be fine or else.

- Actually, my prediction is that the rest of team RWBY will jump into the void to save Yang in the last episode. Because they’re all falling in the opening, and because “Sometimes it’s worth it all to risk the fall and fight for every life”. That’s pretty much the only prediction I feel somewhat confident about, for the rest I have no idea.

- I wonder if it would have been better if Penny had just gone through the doorway and gotten the staff to Vacuo. I get why she didn’t, because Yang just fell and her other friends were in danger… but at the same time, she was supposed to protect the population and the staff (and she has the maiden powers that I’m sure Cinder still wants). If she had just gotten out of there, at least the group in Vacuo would have had some help against the sandstorm and the Grimm. But then again, it would have also severely weakened Term RWBY’s chances against Cinder and Neo… it’s a tough call, really.

- “Why didn’t you just learn your lesson?” “Oh, Penny… I did.” Okay, but that’s the thing: She really did! Just not the lesson Penny wanted her to learn. And notice how Cinder called Penny by her first name again? She didn’t use to do that. I still think somewhere down the line Penny has earned her respect.

- I wonder if Penny’s technically weaker now because she’s human (?? is she??). She’s definitely not used to fighting without her robotic parts (as you can see when she tries to reach for her swords and realizes they’re not there anymore). I summoning those swords like she then did her semblance or another maiden power?

- Blake now has to choose between helping Ruby and helping Penny and Weiss – gosh, the suspense…

- I’m glad Vine at least finally tried to stop Harriet now! (Better late than never.) But I really wouldn’t blame Qrow and Robyn for crashing into their ship. It’s not like they had any way of knowing that Vine was trying to talk sense into Harriet. Also, Qrow crashing through Harriet’s windscreen was amazing.

- Winter and Ironwood are going to fight to the death and I’m so scared of it. (I just need Winter to survive, please…)

- When Weiss described the doorway as a “one-way ticket to Vacuo” last episode, I briefly wondered if that meant they wouldn’t be let back through, but then I brushed it aside and didn’t think about it too much anymore. Oh, damn. You really do have to be very specific with Ambrosius.

- I’m not even sure which location is the best to be in right now because they all seem very unsafe: Atlas and Mantle are unsafe because Atlas is falling, because Mantle might still get blown up by Harriet, and because Salem might still come back any time. The place between worlds is unsafe because of the void and because there’s a big fight happening right there. And Vacuo is unsafe because of the Grimm and the sandstorm. So really, they’re all awful for the civilians right now.

- And now I’m thinking the volume might actually end with the protagonists split into three groups as well: Team RWBY in the void (that they’ll spend Volume 9 finding their way back from), one half of the other characters in Vacuo (Oscar, Ren, Emerald, maybe more?), and the other half still in Atlas/Mantle (Qrow, Robyn, Marrow, Winter, maybe more).

- I’m super nervous about the last episode. I haven’t seen any spoilers at all so far, and I plan to keep it that way. I’ll probably completely ignore anything RWBY-related until next week because the anxiety would kill me otherwise. I’m really worried we’ll get a character death or even several. And ironically, my first prediction on who might die this Volume (Penny, Nora, Winter, Cinder) hasn’t changed all that much. I’m worried about Penny because she has the Maiden Powers and the staff, so Cinder will come after her (but I really think it would be an awful writing choice to kill her off after we just went through so much to save her). I’m very worried about Winter because she’s engaged in a duel to the death with a man who has a big canon that he just blew someone up with. I’m worried for Cinder because of the opening and because Salem might be pissed at her for using the last question. I’m worried for everyone who’s still on Atlas and might get blown up by the bomb (Qrow, Robyn, Marrow, Winter again). And I’m very worried for the characters who are in the in-between realm. Not so much Team RWBY, but I’m worried about Nora, Jaune, and Penny. So yeah, I’m pretty much worried about everyone and very much not ready. Now let me ignore RWBY’s existence for a week – or only reblog posts I already have saved as drafts – because it’s the only way I’ll know peace.

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iwillbeinmynest · 4 years

Text

Redcove Harvest - Bucky x Reader(f) Chapter 3

Authors Notes: Glad to know ya’ll are enjoying this! If you happen to really like it, please consider reblogging or commenting. It really helps me understand what parts you do or don’t like about my work. :)

AU: Farmhand AU and SingleMom!Reader

Word Count: 1.5k +

Notes/Warnings: (Notes are for the whole series) FLUFF, mentions of a past toxic relationship, a wild storm at the end, drama and a break-up, mentions of drinking, kids being adorable and ridiculous, kissing, romance and a tiny bit of angst if you look hard but nothing more than that of a Hallmark movie.

Masterlist Series Masterlist

The next week went without a hitch. Bucky would show up at eight, and get right to work mowing the fields. After day four, he had both front fields mowed. He spent the next two days repairing all the holes and broken parts of the fence that lined the front of the property. After that, he cleaned up the fence line by cutting down saplings and removing weeds and vines. He even fixed the mailbox that sat out by the dusty road.

This morning was supposed to be no different but as he pulled up to the house, thunder rumbled. He hopped out of his truck and grabbed his wide brimmed hat. He figured working in the rain might beat working in the early spring heat. He walked over to the tractor but before he could hop on, he heard her.

“Bucky!” She shouted from the porch.

He turned to see Y/N waving him over. He jogged her way and as he reached the steps, the rain started.

“What’s up?” He asked her.

“Well, I figured with the rain I could steal you for some barn work.”

“Oh,” He replied as he took his hat off. “Yeah, I mean I was still planning on mowing. I know you’ve got those three back fields that are still pretty high.”

She waved the thought away. “It’s okay. I know it will get done. I need to get the goat barn fixed up and the horse stables need some minor repairs.”

“Yeah, sure. Lead the way.”

Y/N walked with Bucky in the light rain down to the yellow barn a couple dozen yards from the back of the house.

He’d been there a few times when he needed to talk to her or grab a tool. The goat barn was actually an old horse stable; the entire right side of stalls had been turned into one large stall that connected to one of the three back fields and the left side was a gardening workshop. One of the left side stalls had been turned into a small greenhouse.

Next to the workbench, in the garden shop, there was a large storage bin. It was lit up red with a heat lamp and he heard the faint sound of peeping.

He walked over and, sure enough, there were at least a dozen little chicks running around or huddled under the lamp.

“When did you get these?” He asked. He crossed his arms and smiled back at her.

She stepped up beside him. “Yesterday. Steve had them ordered for me and they finally came in.”

“Nice.”

She shifted her weight and her arm brushed against his. She moved away and apologized.

“Doesn’t bother me.” He reassured her. He really had no problem making contact with her.

She cleared her throat and walked over to the large goat stall. “So,” she changed the subject. “There are several boards around this opening that leads to their pasture. I had a billy a year ago who was a menace and rammed into it all the time. I’m so glad I got rid of him.” She chuckled. “And, goodness, he stank!” She turned to Bucky, “Did you know Billy’s pee on their beards? Because I didn’t.” Her face twisted in disgust.

A smile played at the corners of his mouth. “I did know that.”

She huffed and grinned. “Yeah, well, I’m pretty new to this whole farm thing, so I’ve been learning as I go.” Y/N laughed at herself.

“New?” Bucky asked, surprised. “Looks like you’ve got a pretty good grip on it all.”

She shrugged lightly, “I mean, I didn’t start from scratch. This was Gavin’s family’s farm.” She paused then clarified, “Gavin was my husband’s name. He grew up here and when his parents passed, he got the farm. He did a lot of the clean up when we moved in and he purchased the livestock and foul. He even cared for most of them - the chickens have always been my thing, though.”

“What about the garden?” Bucky looked out the barn doors to the lush field full of greenery. The gentle rain was doing the day’s watering.

“That’s all me, too, but I only started gardening a few years ago.”

“Well, don’t sell yourself short. This is a lot of property, you’ve done a great job by yourself.” Bucky said as he opened the gate to the goat stall and stepped inside to examine the busted and rotting boards that needed replacing.

“I actually had a good bit of help.” She said as she leaned over the chick bin and pulled out the water dish. She went to the large sink near the workbench and began rinsing it of poop before she filled it back up. “After Gavin died, Steve came over and showed me the ins and outs of cows and goats for a month or two.”

That surprised him. Steve didn’t ever mention that.

“Yeah, and his friend, Nat, showed me how to garden.” Y/N put the water dish back and picked up the feed dish.

Bucky nodded to himself, “Nat has quite the green thumb for making gardeners.”

“That she does.” Y/N smiled as she returned the now full seed dish.

Bucky leaned over the gate and watched as Y/N tended to some seedlings that were on her work bench, spraying them with a squirt bottle. “So... can I ask what happened to Gavin?”

Y/N nodded but didn’t say anything and didn’t turn to face him, she just kept watering the little cupped sprouts.

“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have-”

“No, it’s fine.” She turned to him with a somber look on her face. She took a deep breath and looked at Bucky. She wasn’t sure if she should say what she was thinking but, Gavin was dead, what was he gonna do about it?

“Gavin...was a jerk and a bully,” She started.

Bucky’s brows shot up but he kept listening.

“And what’s worse, he had no idea he was like that. He thought he was a great man- and sometimes, he was- but he had a habit of belittling people he didn’t agree with. It didn’t matter what, if he didn’t like it, you were stupid for thinkin’ it. He had his way of doing things and that was that, anything else wasn’t worth his time.” She crossed her arms and looked down at her boots. “I’m sure you’re wondering how I fell in love with a man like that but it was easy. I met him in high school. He wasn’t as bad then but I figure that’s because he was still growing and learning. It’s not an excuse, but he got it from his daddy. Compared to his dad, Gavin was a saint. Charles was as mean as he was stubborn and Gavin got the brunt of that growing up and he had no way of dealing with it other than doin’ the same stuff to other people. He didn’t do it to me until we were married and being that we were so young, I just thought it was a wife’s job to do what her husband said.”

Bucky swallowed and shifted his weight when she did the same, almost like they both broke out of the trance of story telling and listening.

“But there were good days. He wasn’t a monster. He could be really sweet, actually. He bought me the chickens after one of our fights, built me the fence around the garden after another. He never said sorry, he’d just build or buy me something. And I appreciated it. I really did love him.” Y/N suddenly realized that in her rant she’d never answered his question. She flushed, “Sorry, I didn’t mean to go on about it. I guess I should get to it,” she chuckled.

Bucky smiled at her from his spot on the gate. “It’s fine.”

She took a deep breath. “Um, Gavin fancied himself a great driver, no matter his state. So, he went out with his friends one night and got plastered. He got in the car to come home and drove it into a tree at one hundred and ten.”

Bucky cursed.

Y/N nodded. “He at least had the decency to put me in the will when we got the house, so.” She shrugged her shoulders.

Bucky scratched the back of his neck. “Well, I’m sorry about all of that.”

She smiled at him and Bucky got the sense she was only doing it for his sake.

“I was too for a while. But I’m...happy, now.” Her smile seemed more genuine when she said that.

“I’m glad to hear that.” He grinned at her.

Y/N looked at him for a moment before turning back to her plants.

Bucky also got back to work and they spent most of the morning like that, just working in silence. Bucky was even able to finish the woodwork in under two hours before he fixed a few breaks in the goat field fence.

Around noon, Y/N invited him up to the house for lunch and after he declined twice, she finally insisted.

Bucky was happy to go.

* * * * * * *

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definegodliness · 3 years

Text

Petty and stiff-bourgeois

When the internet gets to me with people displaying next-level pettiness and stiff-bourgeois demeanour, I sink back in my chair to remember the pre-internet age. Not because those days were better, hell no, but because it was so much easier to put things into perspective. Nowadays, I’ve noticed that some of the eighteen-forties narratives posted would make me groan like a dog growls when a random person passes the window, soft and prolonged. It got that bad. So I had to find an antidote. And so I think of the times when a brand new national dictionary would come out. Because when a brand new national dictionary came out, you’d shortly after always get a sent in letter in the newspaper.

Now the newspaper and I go way back. I know I was a weird kid for reading them. But I always, and still do, loved the smell of inky paper. Some people like the smell of gasoline, this is my tic. Back in the day I loved its stern black and white aesthetics as well, and I do think newspapers ruined themselves by colour printing, just like churches ruined themselves by adding central heating. Churches should be cold. I’m not even religious, but there can be no discussion. How else will people feel small and humbled? Get your comfort at home, sinner. This place has been surrendered to the elements. The way God intended. Discomfort keeps you on your toes, and so newspapers should be large, printed in black and white, and without those convenient staples in the middle keeping it together, because the truth is large, clumsy, and uncomfortable.

Truth should stain your fingers.

Those newspapers made me study Journalism, right around the time old media extinguished. During that time, one thing happened that to this day baffles me still. Imagine this: a class of say twenty-five aspiring journalists, asked if they’d rather be sold dry facts or opinions, and all but I preferred to be sold opinions. I argued that one needs the dry facts to shape an opinion, and they all looked at me as if they saw water burning. And I remember the vacant stares when I mentioned I actually liked doing the effort to shape my own opinion. I have rarely felt so alien and misunderstood in my life. What happened to ‘the fly on the wall’? I wondered. The teacher chuckled.

He was glad ‘we’ still had a purist.

So that day I decided New-Age Journalism wasn’t for me. And, despite the nostalgia, I gradually stopped reading newspapers, like the rest of the world. Knowing the type of people who’d write what I was consuming of course didn’t help. But in the end I simply stopped reading because the truth had turned convenient, small, biased, and comfortable to whatever your affiliation is. To get a snippet of reality, I had to buy at least four different opinion pushers, which I did, and then puzzle my way toward the golden mean. It became such a chore I found myself solely enjoying the funnies, and, of course, the sent in letters.

When the internet gets to me with people displaying next-level pettiness and stiff-bourgeois demeanour, I think of what once was the rarest and most hilarious breed of human. You see, every time a brand new national dictionary would come out, there’d be sent in letters of people complaining about a myriad of words that our youth and good town folk in all decency should never be allowed to read. Cuss words, of course, but also words as uninspiring and plastic as ‘penis’, ‘vagina’, and ‘bosom’. Not to mention ‘scrotum’, or ‘nipple’. They’d go apeshit over ‘apeshit’, and in displaying their fifty shades of rigid fanaticism they’d become so grim, so helplessly humourless, that of course the contents of their letters became hilarious.

Boob is not a funny word per se, well, it’s kind of funny, but there is little more absurdistically enjoyable than the word ‘boob’ leaving the pen of a sourpuss in genuine disgust.

There are, and have always been, people so petty and stiff-bourgeois that they’d go through the lengths of buying the latest edition of a dictionary on the first day of publishing to then immediately dedicate hours of their time, locked up in the study to remain undisturbed, executing a self-imposed divine calling. Taking their trusty and angry red pencil to tag, count, and mercilessly comment upon commonly used words. Words sometimes distilled to their driest version, leaving no synonym at all to describe for instance a bodily feature. The entire endeavour demands such tenacity and dedication in maintaining that level of maddened outrage that you cannot convince me there isn’t a moment somewhere halfway the process they’re thinking:

“What am I doing?!”

The must consciously ans repetitively shush that voice of reason. Then, after all that, they manage to go even further. Let’s zoom out for a second to appreciate the absurdity of the situation. Someone who has just finished scouring the dictionary for words deemed immoral, utilising a standard that would put even the most dedicated puritan to shame, now sits behind their desks and takes the time to write an actual handwritten letter utilising their freshly and painstakingly gathered information. Enraged, I reckon, for the red lettered filth by their own hand written. And this is the frame of mind in which they probably read it over a couple of times, checking for spelling mistakes, therefore unable to see the undeniable irony of writing all these words they condemn so deeply, for people all over the country to read. This should be another chance to favour a moment of reflection. However, they are already in too deep, and now can only live with themselves thinking the end justifies the means.

Then there’s the moment when they walk downstairs proudly waving that letter, already in its envelope.

“Debra, I’m gonna tell ‘em!”

And Debra also doesn’t offer a voice of reason. Debra doesn’t even look up from her crossword puzzle and says:

“That’s nice, honey.”

And so they walk on. Toward the mailbox. With a letter of Don Quixote-like insanity that bears their full name and address as a sign of sacred dedication. And even then I reckon they still could be sobered up by the fresh air, experiencing a moment of clarity, actually seeing the ridiculousness of the entire situation. Another chance at self-reflection. And then still, lastly, there is still one moment of possible hesitation and contemplation left, the moment where they slide that letter into the mailbox’s slit and fate is finally out of their hands.

These people exist.

There are around eight decision making moments in this what is the shortest summary of necessary circumstances wherein the windmill chasing self-proclaimed virtuous crusader decides against better judgement. Eight decision making moments in an entire day of living dedicated to removing the word ‘nipple’ from the national dictionary’s latest edition. That was then. And this was when solely the utmost madly bigoted, self-righteous, and oblivious otherworldly specimen of human could seep through the filters of media consumption. Offered a platform for nothing other than editorial shits and giggles.

Now these people have internet:

Write, post.

Two decision making moments. And when the internet gets to me with narratives belonging to the eighteen-forties, I think of all the like-minded martyrs who in the time of ancient media went through all those steps aforementioned, only to bail out at the very last second of actually dropping off that dumb-ass letter in the mailbox. I think of the time when seven chances at contemplation was enough to save us from a mind-numbing display of mental deterioration. I imagine how vast this stiff-bourgeois crowd gets with every fewer necessary step. When the threshold has been lowered to merely two moments of chanced contemplation and reasoning.

When I sink back in my chair and groan like a dog growls when a random person passes the window, I make myself remember that who we are dealing with are non-threatening, hilarious crazies. Red pencil wielding dictionary condemners who have been shaken free from the threshold of effort. And I think we all tend to forget that. We forget to laugh at them. Laugh at them with all our hearts, shaking our heads simultaneously. We forget we are witnessing rarities. And must not allow ourselves to be cursed into taking the windmill chasers riding under the flag of anonymity seriously. When we forget to laugh at human absurdity, we become part of the joke ourselves. So let’s go out and wield some ‘lol’s and ‘tears of joy’-emojis.

#spilled ink #spilled thoughts #long read #write #writers #writers on tumblr #prose #column #creative writing #words #alt lit

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