#she was like ‘can you toss my horses at x place some hay tonight

[theladyofdeath]

The Ranch {10}

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

Collaboration: @throne-of-ashes-and-beauty​ 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”.

A/N: enjoy!

The Ranch Masterlist

Cassian threw open the closet in the bedroom of his cabin. Sure, he’d spent quite a bit of time on minuscule dates and hanging out at the bar through the years, but it had been a while since he’d taken a woman out on a proper date.

And here he was, about to take Nesta, a fucking gourmet chef, to dinner. With an hour before he was supposed to “pick her up”, he still had no idea where they were going. He’d run through the list of restaurants in their little town a hundred times through his head as he went through his work that day, but none of them seemed good enough.

What also didn’t seem good enough were the shirts he was staring at. Maybe he’d just stay in what he was already wearing - the towel around his waist. She seemed to prefer him in such, anyways, considering the night they had spent together the day before.

And what a damn fantastic night it had been.

No, Cassian wanted their date to be perfect.

Once again, he stared at the line of shirts hanging in his closet.

He groaned and dragged his hand down his face before he walked across the room and texted Elain.

You busy?

He waited a minute, no reply to his text, and he was both impatient and short on time.

So he called her.

“You couldn’t even wait for me to text you back and tell you that I’m not busy?” Her voice was full of laughter as she answered the phone.

“Sort of in a rush and also freaking out,” he said, beginning to pace.

She was instantly on red alert. “What? Why? Are you okay?”

He shook his head, realizing he’d worried her for no reason. “Yes, I’m fine. I’m taking your sister out on a date tonight and I have no idea what to wear.”

He was met with silence on the other line.

“Elain?”

“I’m here, I’m...trying to make sense of what you just said.” She stuttered a second. “You said you’re taking Nesta on a date tonight?”

“Yes.”

“My sister, Nesta?”

“Yes,” Cassian said, with no chill. “And I’m in a hurry.”

“Taking Nesta out makes you cranky,” Elain muttered. “Okay, I’m here, what is it you need?”

“I don’t know what to wear.”

Another stretch of silence. 

Cassian sighed, impatiently. “Elain.”

“Sorry,” she said, tone laced with laughter. “I just...You’re worried about what you’re going to wear?”

“Everything I have looks the same,” he mumbled. 

“Then wear one of your fifty plaid shirts,” she laughed. “And your one pair of nice jeans.”

“Really?” He asked, grabbing one of his more expensive shirts from the closet. “But I wear this every day-.”

“She’s seen you everyday and has she ever had a problem with it?” she interrupted.

“I- No,” he admitted. “What kind of food does she like? I asked her to dinner and then I realized that she’s a chef and that nothing around here would be up to her standards.”

Elain paused, but finally said, “Do you trust me?”

Cassian hesitated, unable to hide the question in his voice. “Usually?”

She chuckled. “I’m going to send you an address. Don’t look it up, just trust me, okay?”

He blinked. Well, it was a better idea than he had. “Okay, sure. Yeah, I won’t look it up.”

Elain squealed. “Yay! Alright, stand by. I’ll text it to you now.”

Cassian breathed a sigh of relief. “Thank you, Lainy, you have no idea how grateful I am.”

He could tell she was being genuine when she said, “Anything I can do to help! You both deserve to be happy, to have someone to cherish you and treat you right.” She sighed. “How’d you convince her to finally go out with you?”

Cassian debated on beating around the bush, but knew their families would find out anyways. “We, uh, sort of hooked up last night.”

Not to his surprise, he was met with more silence.

This time, Cassian waited it out. He put his phone on speaker then dropped his towel.

“And by hooked up, you mean…”

“Sex?” Cassian supplied, pulling on his boxers. “Yeah, and it was-.”

“I don’t wanna know.” The words rushed out of Elain so quickly that Cassian knew her cheeks were turning pink.

Cassian chuckled. “Fine. But, it was nice.”

“Were you drunk?” Elain asked, hesitantly.

Cassian rolled his eyes. “No. And she was still there when I woke up this morning, so.”

“Wow, I-.” She paused and repeated, “Wow. You know you’re supposed to take her out before you sleep with her, right?”

“Oh, ha ha.” He said, stepping into his jeans and buttoning them up. His voice was wistful at first. “I can’t help it, I just had to have her. And she actually made the move this time, not me.”

“I still don’t want to know,” she said, laughing. “Have fun, make good choices.”

“I’ll try,” he promised before saying goodbye and tossing the phone onto his bed. A moment later, when he was buttoning up his shirt, her text came through with an address.

He had no idea where she was sending them, and he was almost too scared to look it up, even if he hadn’t promised. After brushing out his hair with his fingers, he tied it at the back of his head and pulled on some socks, then his boots, and sighed.

“Beau!”

Beau came hurrying into the bedroom and up onto the bed, wagging his tail.

“How do I look?” Cassian asked, brows raised.

Beau barked.

“I assume that means you approve. Alright,” he said, grabbing his wallet off his nightstand and shoving it into his pocket. “I’ll be back in a little while. Don’t chew up anything...that’s not already chewed up, okay?”

He gave Beau a quick belly rub before strutting toward the front door.

He grabbed his keys and drove over to Nesta’s, hopping out and knocking on her door.

It only took a second for the door to swing open and Cassian’s mouth began to water.

The blue dress she wore was nothing fancy. On the contrary, it was its simplicity that let Nesta’s beauty shine.

Her golden-brown hair was in a simple braid, her brown sandals showing off her painted toenails. A soft pink, the same shade she wore on her full, beautiful lips.

She raised her brows as she said, “You’re staring. You’ve seen me every day for a while now. You can’t stare.”

“I can and I will,” he protested, meeting her eyes. “And it’s not the first time I’ve been caught staring at you.”

Nesta rolled her eyes as she grabbed her bag off the hook by the door. “Where are you taking me?”

She stepped out onto the porch and closed the door behind her as he hesitated. “Uh, it’s a surprise.” To us both.

She laughed quietly but said nothing more as they descended the stairs. Cassian opened the passenger side door and held out his hand to help her up, but she ignored it and hauled herself inside. With a chuckle, Cassian closed the door behind her and made his way behind the wheel before making his way down the long driveway.

Once they were out onto the main road, Cassian said, “You look beautiful.”

She didn’t look over at him as a small smile played on those pink lips. “Thanks. You don’t look too bad, either.”

Cassian grinned and turned on the radio, soft music filling the truck. He had already put the address into his GPS, but kept the volume down. He glanced at his phone every few seconds to make sure he was going the right way. The last thing he wanted was for Nesta to ask why he needed directions to know where they were going. What would his reply be? Oh, I called your sister because I was freaking the fuck out, thanks for asking, no big deal.

It was a conversation he wanted to avoid.

“What all did you do today?” he asked. “I didn’t see you around.”

“I was in the main house, prepping for painting,” she said, nodding. “That place needs to be updated before any guests start coming in. So, I taped, covered the carpets in plastic, and moved all furniture to the middle of the floors. Which, I should probably get a few new things there, too. I swear we grew up on shit made in the 1950s.”

Cassian snorted, then looked her direction. “You should’ve asked for help. I could’ve helped with the heavy lifting.”

She rolled her eyes. “I am perfectly capable of doing things on my own, thank you.”

Cassian shook his head as his eyes went back on the road ahead of him. “Trust me, I know.”

Her amused grin was radiant. “What about you? Any fun ranch stuff today?”

“Ranch stuff?” He chuckled. At her own laughter, he continued, “Nothing too crazy. Mostly made sure there was enough hay left for the horses over the weekend. And checked on Barb. She’ll be having her calf any day.”

“What? Really?” She turned to him. “It’s way too late in the year for calves.”

He nodded. “Yeah, that’s why I’m keeping such a close eye on her.”

His phone lit up, alerting him that they were approaching their destination. He looked around and chuckled, shaking his head. Leave it to Elain.

He pulled into the little parking lot of an old diner. The sign that read The Starlight Diner was lit up in neon lights. He parked in front of the little building before looking at Nesta to see her reaction.

She was staring at the diner before she turned to him. “You talked to my sister, didn’t you?”

Cassian hesitated, and she laughed. “We used to go here all the time,” she said, shaking her head. “I used to love this place. I can’t tell you how many milkshakes I’ve downed within these walls. And the chili cheese fries? I mean, there’s nothing like them.” 

Cassian had been to the diner before, but not since high school. It used to be a popular hangout, one they went to after they won a big game or smoked too much pot under the bleachers.

“So you’re telling me,” Cassian began, turning off the engine. “That a woman who became a famous chef in Paris likes to go to ancient diners and drink milkshakes and eat chili-cheese fries?”

“Yes,” she said, simply. Then she smiled, softly. “Shall we?”

Cassian, completely speechless and a little bit turned on, opened his door and met her on her side of the truck as she got out. They went inside and sat at a table by the window. Old music was playing and waitresses were going about their business on roller skates. 

“So, I assume you already know what you want,” Cassian began, flipping open his menu. “And I assume it’s more than a milkshake and chili-cheese fries.”

Nesta was glancing around the restaurant, looking for someone or something, but she didn’t miss a beat when she answered. “Bacon cheeseburger, with extra pickles, chili-cheese fries, vanilla milkshake, with no cherry, and a water.”

He raised an eyebrow, and let his menu fall shut. “I know what I’m ordering.” She laughed and he felt like his heart was going to burst. The sound of her laughter was quickly becoming one of his favorite things. “So why no cherry? Are allergic, or what?”

She scrunched her nose as she moved the silverware around in front of her. “I used to drink the Shirley Temples made with the cheap grenadine. You know the one that’s pretty much just cherry snow-cone syrup?”

Their server came to the table at that moment and took their drink order. They both know what they wanted, but neither was in a rush. She promised to return with their waters and to get their food order in just a moment and they fell right back into conversation.

“Long story short, one night we went to dinner and I had four or five of them.” She laughed and shook her head. “Neither mom or dad noticed how many I’d had, which was awesome to me. I was only allowed to have two before I had to switch to water. When we got home, I got so, so sick. They freaked out because it was dark red and they thought I was bleeding internally.” She began laughing even harder. “Neither of them told me that was what they were worried about, and I wasn’t about to tell on myself. They took me to the hospital and I finally told one of the nurses. Nineteen years and a sixteen hundred dollar hospital bill later, and I hate cherry and cherry flavoring now.”

Cassian just stared at her, barely registering when the waitress came back and gave them their waters. And then he began howling.

The waitress looked at him like he was crazy and mumbled that she’d be back in just a minute for their orders.

“So you were a rebellious child,” Cassian said, laughter dying down but his smile remaining.

“Considering that’s the most rebellious thing I’d ever done, I’d say not,” Nesta said, chuckling. “No, Feyre was the rebellious one, which I’m sure you already know. Elain was the perfect one. And I….I don’t know. I was just there.”

“That’s impossible,” Cassian said. “Give yourself a little more credit.”

She shrugged, and a shadowy look crossed her face that had Cassian clearing his throat. “Well, you didn’t miss out on rebellion. Coming from someone who landed himself in the local jail fifteen times his senior year in high school, alone.”

That look in Nesta’s eyes faded as she shook her head, humored. “Fifteen times? In under a year?”

“Yeah, I swear at some point the cops just started following me when they were bored until I did something they could call me out on,” he laughed. It was a little town. The crime rate was low. “Shoplifting a few times. Mostly underage drinking. One time they caught me peeing into the dumpster behind the corner market. Which, I was drunk then, too….Actually, that night was rough.”

Nesta laughed as she rolled her eyes. “Good thing to know such a classy man has taken me to dinner.”

Cassian’s grin widened. “You live, you learn.”

Nesta nodded her agreement. “What about your parents? Weren’t they furious?”

Cassian’s eyes softened as he said, “Don’t know my dad. My mom died while I was in middle school, lived with Rhys and his mom after that. And, yes, she gave me hell every damn time. But, she always came to pick me up and break me out.”

“I’m so sorry,” she said, but he was already waving her off.

“Don’t be,” he shrugged. “From what my mom told me of my dad, he wasn’t the greatest guy. Found out she was pregnant from one of his friends and skipped town. He was a bull rider, and he jumped on the rodeo tour and she never saw him again. And my mom…” he blew out a deep breath. “We should probably save my mom for a less depressing conversation.”

Nesta nodded, completely understanding.

“But Rhys’ mom was great,” he went on, taking a sip from his water. “I love that woman.”

The waitress came back and Nesta ordered.

Cassian said he’d have the same, but with a chocolate shake, then she was off.

“So,” Cassian went on, leaning his elbows on the table. “Tell me something I don’t know about you.”

Nesta took a moment to think. “After last night, I think you know everything there is to know.”

Cassian smirked. “About some things, maybe. But tell me something I don’t.”

Nesta chewed on her lip, mind going completely blank. Everything either seemed too personal or not personal enough.

“I can’t whistle,” She laughed, shrugging her shoulders. “I don’t know, this is one of the things I hate about dating. This whole interview process.”

“How about this,” he smiled. “Tell me about your favorite thing in the world.”

He was expecting her to start telling him about cooking, about how she’d ended up in Paris, Rome, London, all the places he’d seen when he did a quick google of her name. But she surprised him.

“Riding horseback,” she said, eyes bright. 

Cassian raised a brow. “Riding? That’s your favorite thing in the world?”

“Does that surprise you?” She asked, leaning back in the booth.

“Yeah, a little,” he confessed.

She stirred her water with her straw, watching the ice cubes spin around in her glass. “It was my one escape growing up. The one thing I could do that didn’t result in a sneer from my mother and a lecture about my future from my father.” She sighed. “I used to ride Phoenix for hours to just...get out of the house. Have you ever ridden back on the hills to the west of the property?”

He raised an eyebrow. “You mean the property that isn’t ours, that’s marked No Trespassing?”

Their waitress brought their milkshakes to the table. There was a bright red cherry on top of Nesta’s, but before she could say anything, Cassian snatched it up and popped it into his mouth. She rolled her eyes, thanked the waitress, and took a huge sip. Her eyes slipped closed instantly and she moaned quietly. “Oh my god, I can’t get a milkshake like this anywhere else.”

She opened her eyes to find him watching her, and when her tongue peeked out to get the little bit of melted ice cream left on her bottom lip, his eyes tracked the motion. They were dark, the shining hazel almost completely swallowed by his pupils.

Without a word, Cassian pulled something from between his teeth and dropped it on the table between them.

The stem from her stolen cherry was tied in a knot.

Nesta said, “That’s both hot and cheesy as hell.”

Cassian’s low laugh skittered across her skin. “You already know what my tongue can do, but I thought I’d give you a little reminder, just in case you somehow forgot already.”

Nesta swallowed. No, she definitely hadn’t forgotten what his perfect mouth could do, but she had forgotten how to speak, especially when he was looking at her the way he was.

He plucked the cherry from his own milkshake, eating the cherry - sans stem, this time - and motioned for Nesta to continue. “So, what about the land that we do not own, Miss I was never rebellious?”

His imitation of her was spot on.

Nesta pursed her lips and said, “Yeah, that land is ours.”

He dropped his spoon, splattering the table in chocolate ice cream droplets. “What?”

She took another drink of her milkshake, not moaning this time, thank the Cauldron, and nodded. “It’s only another few acres. I knew the previous owners. Armand and Colette Lavigne.” The way she said their names, with such familiarity and adoration, Cassian knew she must have spent a lot of time with them. “They were from the Bordeaux region of France. They moved here in their fifties to open a vineyard.” She chuckled, shaking her head. “They didn’t do any research and had no idea the soil here wasn’t good for wine. But they fell in love with the area. And they’re the ones who taught me to love cooking.” She smiled fondly, her eyes misting slightly. “I bought it when Colette passed a few years ago and Armand returned to Floirac. He didn’t want it to go to someone who would just sell it for profit and turn it into another apartment complex or a shopping mall. It's been my land for about four years, but I finally signed the deed to have it put in my name, rather than Armand’s, when I signed the ranch’s deeds.”

Cassian blinked, processing the information, slowly. Then he said, loudly enough to earn a scowl from the elderly couple two booths down, “What the fuck? I’ve been purposely avoiding that land, and now you’re telling me I should’ve been working it?”

Nesta rolled her eyes. “No. Not yet, anyway. I haven’t decided  what I want to do with it yet.”

Cassian was slowly shaking his head. “I have a feeling you’re never going to stop surprising me.”

“Is that such a bad thing?” She asked.

He smiled at her. “No, it isn’t.”

They fell into a comfortable silence. Nesta finally asked, “Have you even tried your milkshake yet, or are you just going to keep stirring it?”

He pointed his sticky spoon at her and took a big sip through his straw. He pulled back, staring at the thick liquid. “That’s pretty damn good.”

“Pretty damn good?” She repeated, shaking her head. “It’s fucking delicious.”

“You’re fucking delicious,” he muttered, taking another drink from his straw.

Nesta’s cheeks turned a bright shade of pink, which only made Cassian's small smile turn into a wicked grin.

Before she could come up with a retort, a display of beautiful, greasy food was laid out before them. Burgers and chili-cheese fries.

As the waitress turned to leave, Nesta said, “Excuse me, but is Alis still here?”

“Oh, no, sweetie, I’m so sorry,” she said, and Nesta nodded. “She’ll be back in for the morning shift tomorrow, though.”

“Okay, perfect. Thank you.”

The woman smiled warmly and left them to enjoy their burgers.

“Alis?” Cassian asked, eyeing the massive plate of food in front of him and its twin in front of Nesta, then her tiny form. There was no way she’d be able to eat everything in front of her.

Nesta already had a forkful of hot, cheesy fries and was diving in. She closed her eyes and made a contented noise. She took a drink of her water, setting it down before answering. “She owns the Starlight. I came here so much that she and I became pretty close. When I…” Ran away. “Left town, I stopped in for a cup of coffee, trying to talk myself out of leaving. Alis is the one who pushed me to follow my dreams. She even paid for my bus ticket out of town.”

“Really?” Cassian asked, popping a fry into his mouth. “She sounds nice.”

“She is,” Nesta agreed. “One of the best this town has to offer. Now, look away because I’m about to bite into this burger and it’s not going to be attractive whatsoever.”

Cassian didn’t look away and Nesta, eyes on his, took a massive bite out of her bacon cheese burger.

He blinked, and she covered her mouth as her eyes lit up at his expression.

“I can honestly say I’ve never been so attracted to you,” he said, taking his burger into his hands. Before he took a bite, he asked, “So, Alis is the one that pushed you out of town, huh?”

Nesta nodded, taking another bite and swallowing before saying, “If it wasn’t for her that day, I probably would have stayed here, ended back up with Tomas, and lived to regret every fucking day that followed. So, I am very grateful to Alis.”

Cassian hadn’t pressed Nesta anymore on the subject of Tomas, and he knew now wasn’t the time, no matter how many questions he had.

“Well, then I’m grateful to her too,” Cassian said, taking a bite so massive nearly half of his burger disappeared. He chewed before saying, “Although I’m pretty grateful you came back, too.”

Nesta took another bite of her own burger. “You’re just saying that because I’ll have sex with you,” she laughed and dove back into her fries.

Cassian’s eyes lit up in amusement. “Don’t get me wrong, it’s a perk. But I think you’re going to be good for the b-n-b, for the ranch as a whole.” Nesta’s eyes softened and she smiled. Until he added, “And ‘I’ll have sex’ implies that we’ll be doing that again, right? That wasn’t a one and done?”

Nesta rolled her eyes, mouth full of food. A second later, she said, “I’ll have to think about it.”

Cassian had the audacity to look offended. “Ouch. Was I so bad?”

Nesta just grinned as she took another bite of her fries.

Cassian’s laughter filled the air as they finished their food. He paid, and then they made their way back into the truck.

“Thanks for dinner,” she said, as they pulled out of the parking lot. To his surprise, she had finished every last bite of her food and downed her milkshake. Even Cassian had left a few fries, claiming he couldn’t eat another bite.

“Anytime,” he said, meaning it.

“Um, home is the other direction,” she said, when he turned left onto the main road instead of right. 

“I know,” Cassian replied, shortly, and when it was obvious he wasn’t going to say anything more, Nesta shot him a look.

“Where are we going?” she asked, slowly.

Cassian just grinned, one hand on the wheel, the other sneaking over the middle console to hers.

The ride was comfortably quiet, the rumble of Cassian’s truck the only sound. Nesta didn’t mind though, not as he drove through the square, where people bustled about. Velaris was a city best enjoyed at night, and the people milling around every restaurant and park and store front proved it. She also didn’t mind the feel of his hand in hers, so the longer drive was fine by her.

Until they pulled into a parking lot.

“Why are we here?”

Cassian only grinned and hopped out of the truck, rounding the hood and helping Nesta down. “Don’t feel like a walk down memory lane?” They began to walk and, as casually as she could, she slipped her hand back into his. His fingers intertwined with hers and he glanced down at her. She was staring forward, refusing to look up at him, but he knew color was staining her cheeks. Could tell by the way the tips of her ears were a darker shade of pink than normal. “I thought, rather than talk about who we are, cause that always sucks and no one likes doing it-.” He was rambling and Nesta giggled. He laughed at himself and cleared his throat. “Right. What I was trying to say, is that talking about who you are sucks. But talking about who you used to be? I don’t know, for me, it’s always been easier.” Nesta looked up at him, but he shrugged and carried on. “Even if I wasn’t always proud of who I was, I can at least learn something from who I’ve been.”

“Fair enough,” she said, quietly, as he led the way.

They were at their old high school, but Cassian didn’t walk toward the building, which was undoubtedly locked. Instead, he took her to the football field, where Nesta could count on one hand how many times she had been there through the four years she had spent at Velaris High.

“You played football?” She asked, as they walked through the gates. 

“I did,” Cassian confirmed, as they walked onto the green field. Velaris Knights was painted into the end zones. “Yeah, I tackled a lot of guys on these fields. And, over there,” he pointed to the bleachers, “is where I used to get high and drunk, referring back to the jail conversation we had earlier tonight.”

Nesta laughed as she looked around. She had never been on the field before. Everything looked different from standing between the bleachers.

“You came to games, right?” He asked, gazing around the field. The lights were on, thanks to the evening practice that had only ended an hour or two before. The lights ran on a timer, just like they had when he played on this field. They had until just before ten-thirty before the lights would go out.

Nesta shook her head. “I was never a big fan of school events. I always preferred to stay home and read or more often than not, I was with Tomas. Going to some roping.”

There he was again, taunting Cassian from the past. But again, he wouldn’t bring up Tomas tonight. “Wasn’t Elain a cheerleader? Didn’t you come to at least support her?”

She shrugged. “Come cheer on the cheerleader? No, and she knew I hated it. She would actually convince Feyre to go to the games so I could have an hour or two of silence.”

Cassian snorted. “Well, I lived on this field. And I kicked ass. While you were being a nerd, apparently.”

Nesta’s eyes narrowed. “I was not a nerd, asshole.”

Cassian held his hands up in surrender. “I never said it was a bad thing.”

Nesta couldn’t help but laugh as she shook her head. “Looking back, I would’ve done some things differently. Maybe not the staying home with a book, but with the whole Tomas business.”

Cassian stayed silent. He wanted so badly to ask, but knew he shouldn’t. They were having such a good time. He didn’t want to ruin it.

So, instead, Cassian said, “I wish I would’ve known you then.”

She chuckled but sat down when they reached the center of the field. “No, I don’t think you do.”

He followed suit, sitting down in the turf leaning back on his hands. “Why not?”

“It was true, what you said before. I constantly had a stick up my ass.” She laughed and continued. “And I was a bitch.”

Cassian laughed, but he didn’t correct her. “You were cute, though. I’m convinced I would have loosened you up.”

Nesta shook her head, unable to stop her smile from spreading. “I’ll let you think that.”

Cassian looked over at her, at the way her golden-brown hair shone in the lights. She was a beauty, and yes, she had been cute in high school, but now she was stunning, in her little blue dress and her simple braid.

“You’re staring again,” she mumbled.

“Let me stare,” he pleaded, eyes soft.

She blushed and he leaned over, tilting her chin up and softly brushing his lips against hers. When he pulled away, he whispered, “Please tell me I can do that whenever I want now.”

Nesta thoughtfully tapped her chin and said, “Whenever? I don’t know about that.”

“Damn you, woman,” he laughed and kissed her again, laying down on top of her.

She chuckled against his mouth, wrapping her arms around his neck. “We’re not kids anymore, Cassian, we can’t fuck on the football field. Just because you like being tossed in jail doesn’t mean that I do.”

He grinned, resting his elbows in the grass on both sides of her face. “I’ll be nice, I promise.”

She kissed him then, tugging on his bottom lip with her teeth. “Good.”

“Until you did that…” he muttered, kissing her again, pressing his body down against hers as he did so.

She let his hands roam her body, let him grab and squeeze and pull. He tugged on her hair lightly, tilting her chin up and exposing her neck. He nuzzled his face into it, and lightly ran his tongue along the long column of her throat. He pressed soft kisses along her jaw until he returned once more to her lips.

Pulling back to look at her, her lips swollen from his bruising kisses and her hair a messy halo around her head on the grass, Cassian brushed a thumb along her cheekbone. He breathed, “You are so damn beautiful.” She blushed and tried to turn from his gaze. “No,” he whispered, gripping her chin so she couldn’t look away. “Why do you do that? Why won’t you let me tell you how beautiful you are?” He asked, quietly.

“Taking compliments isn’t one of my strengths,” she said, running her hands down his arms, feeling his muscles beneath the fabric.

“Well make it one,” he mumbled, “because I’m not going to stop. I’m going to tell you how beautiful you are, always, because it’s the truth.”

She shook her head, slowly, but didn’t say anything else. She simply grabbed him by the face and brought his lips to hers.

After a few minutes of languid kisses, and some strong, strong willpower, Cassian rolled over and laid on his back, staring up at the sky. He tucked a hand behind his head and the other found Nesta’s next to him. His thumb rubbed small circles on the back of her hand and he gazed up at the stars.

It was quiet for a few minutes, neither one of them wanting to disturb the stillness. But eventually, Nesta asked, “You about ready to head home?”

He turned his head and looked at her, those stormy eyes seeing every part of him. “Just a minute. It’s almost time.”

Her brow furrowed. “For what?”

He smiled, looking back to the sky. “You’ll see.”

They laid there in silence, Nesta loving the feeling of his hand in hers.

The lights shut off, plunging the field into darkness. Nesta started, looking around, wondering if they needed to go, to get back to the truck, before someone-.

“Look,” he breathed, still staring upwards.

Nesta gazed toward the sky. Her breath caught in her throat.

The lights above them, surrounding the field, had gone off, and the starlight above them burned brightly, lighting up the night sky.

There were no trees, no nothing to block the view of the series of shooting stars that shot across the speckled darkness.

Only in Velaris.

“It’s beautiful,” she whispered. She had always known her hometown was famous for its starlight, had always snuck a glance or two up at the night sky throughout her childhood, but had never taken a moment to simply watch, to wait, to explore with her eyes the beauty of creation.

“It is,” Cassian agreed, softly. He wasn’t only talking about the night sky. “I used to lay out here all the time, in high school. Captivated by it.”

“Were you high?” Nesta asked, quietly, jabbing him in the ribs.

Cassian laughed, breathlessly. “Sometimes.”

She glanced over at him, but he didn’t notice. He was entranced by the wonder before him, by the sheer enormity of the sight above him.

“You love this town,” she said, and it wasn’t a question.

He nodded and looked over at her. “I do. It’s not much, but it’s...home. I’ve never wanted to be anywhere else.” He paused. “Well, except on the road, but that didn’t exactly pan out.”

“Why not?” She asked, before she could stop herself.

Cassian hesitated. “It’s a long story.”

“Is it?” She asked. “Or is this one of those times you say it’s a long story because you don’t want to tell the story.”

Cassian laughed, glancing sideways at her. “Maybe a little bit of both.”

“Well,” she said, smiling softly. “I have time.”

He tried not to let it sound harsh when he said, “Another time.” He turned and laid on his side, brushing the loose hair framing her face behind her ear.

He could see the stubbornness, could see that Nesta wanted to push. But she nodded and leaned forward to press her lips against his.

After a soft smile, he climbed to his feet and  held out a hand. “Come on, beautiful. Let’s get home.”

She took his hand, happily, and let him walk her back to the truck. The ride back to the ranch was quiet, but not uncomfortable. He caught her looking at him from time to time, and every time he caught her, that look of annoyance from being caught captured her face.

When Cassian pulled up to her little house, he turned off the engine and got out, walking her up to the porch. They stood, hand in hand. He looked down at her and kissed her, softly. “Is this the part where you invite me inside?”

She made a show of acting like she was thinking, and took a step back. “I don’t know, this was only our first date…” She opened the door and took another step back until she was inside. “I’m not that type of girl.”

There was a playful glint in Cassian’s eye and he stepped forward, bracing an arm on the door frame. “I don’t know what type of girl you’re talking about.”

She chuckled and said, “Goodnight, Cassian.”

The smirk on his face faltered and she shut the door in his face.

He took a step back and blinked. “Wha- Are you kidding me?”

The door swung open just a few seconds later and Nesta stood inside, still laughing. She grabbed him by the shirt and dragged him over the threshold, her lips immediately meeting his.

#theranchnessian #sharacollab #nessian #theranch #au #modern au #fanfic #fanfiction

[cha-lyn]

Milk & Eggs - Eleven

Farmer!Bucky x Reader

Words: 1607ish

Summary: Small Town /Farmer Bucky AU // Reader leaves the city to go live with her grandma. She meets an attractive farmer and, no, they don’t hit it off.

Warnings: teeny bit of angst, fluff, hair pulling, sad bucky

A/N:  THANK YOU GUYS for being so patient.  I had some serious writers block with this chapter & the next one. I am plotting the end but there should be at least a few more chapters. Happy Saturday!

Masterlist // Previous Chapter  // Next Chapter

- - - 

“Why isn’t this meringue getting to peaks?” You were in your third batch of apparently cursed French meringue.  “Grams come look at this!” 

You checked the clock for the upteenth time within the last 20 minutes. You had to deliver this cake in two hours and you needed to shower and change before you did so you could go straight to Bucky’s after. But you couldn’t deliver it without the damn meringue. 

“Just be patient, hun.” 

You growled, but did as she said. Finally you could see the stiff peaks! “Yess!”  The next thirty minutes you spent piping and roasting it for the client’s desired look.“Grams, I’m gonna go take a quick shower and then leave for the delivery and then I’m going straight to Bucky’s.”

“Tell him is said hello,” she waved you off. You didn’t miss her small smirk, but you didn’t have time to defend yourself.

You showered, fixed your hair, changed and made it back down stairs by 4:21. You didn’t even think to grab your phone. You got the cake into your car and triple checked that it was secure. You made it to the client’s venue right at 5. 

That’s where the trouble hit. 

The client wasn’t there yet. You dig through your purse looking for your phone and then remember that it was sitting on your nightstand, all the way back at home. You checked the car clock. 5:15. Where was this lady? If she was much later, you wouldn’t even make it to Bucky’s by 6.  You tapped your fingers on the dash impatiently. 

Finally, she shows up. 5:28. 

Apparently, her hair appointment ran late. She apologized profusely and tipped you generously for her lateness. You left the venue at 5:47 and sped down the highway. It should take you 30 minutes to get back to town and another 15 or so to get to Bucky’s, depending on if you get stuck behind any cows or tractors. 

You pulled into his driveway at 6:28 You didn’t bother refreshing your makeup in the mirror, feeling terrible you were so late. You took his front steps two at a time, knocking probably a little more loudly than you needed to. 

In seconds, the door swung open to a very handsome man with a very deep frown on his face. 

“Hey,” you smile, hoping it would diffuse his frown. 

It did not.

“I’m late. I am so sorry.”

“Hmph. I was about to call in the calvary. I’ve called you like 20 times, Y/n.” He crosses his arms. 

“I left in a rush, forgot my phone. Then the client was 45 minutes late. I’m so sorry.” Your stomach chose that moment to growl. Loudly. 

“I was worried. I thought you forgot again.” He moved aside to let you in. “Let me warm your plate up. I ate without you. ” He set the plate in the microwave and turned to face you, not looking you in the eye. 

He thought you forgot--oh the guilt--you could hit yourself. “Well I’m glad you didn’t wait on me…” you leaned awkwardly against the door frame. He remained silent as you looked around. 

The table was set. A candle on the table, between two wine glasses. Bucky wore his dress jeans and a nice unwrinkled button up, his hair was combed, pulled back into a little bun behind his head and oh my god-this was a date, you realize. You suddenly feel sick to your stomach. 

About the time you realize all of this the microwave beeps and Bucky sets your food on the table, motioning for you to sit down as he does. He’s grilled the steak to perfection, made the skinny green beans you like with a side of mashed potatoes that you know for a fact are homemade. 

“You thirsty?” He still hasn’t made eye contact with you. You nod and he gets you a glass of water. 

You eat the food in silence. Bucky twirling a steak knife between his fingers, not looking up at you. The air was thick with tension. 

“This is really good Bucky,” you say even though you can’t taste it much because you hate yourself. 

“Thanks,” he says emotionlessly. 

“I-I’m so sorry. I feel so bad.” You push your empty plate away. “ Thank you for everything. I know I’ve totally ruined the evening, it was really all so nice… I’ll just go…” You stand up and push your chair in reaching for your plate.

He sighed deeply, before pushing himself up. “Wait. No. No. Don’t go Y/N. I’ll stop guilt tripping you, it’s not your fault your client was late. It’s just, I--I was looking forward to tonight.” His cheeks got a little pink as he finally looked at your eyes. “In my mind it all went a lot differently.”

“Yeah. Same.” You took your plate to the sink. You grabbed the scrubby thing and turned on the water.

“You don't need to do that.” 

You ignored him. “Oh, please Bucky. Let me wash a dish to make up for all this. I’m sorry--”

“Stop apologizing, Y/n.” He pulled out a clean towel to dry the dish off with. “I’m over it. I promise. Shit happens, I get it. It’d be silly to stay mad at you for something out of your control.” He put the dish in the cabinet and turned to face you, finally. “You look nice tonight, slick.”

A full blush flushed your face. “Thanks. You look quite handsome, Buck,” you reached up to smooth his collar. 

“Thank you,” He smiled at you for the first time that evening. “Bad news though. I have to change out of this handsome outfit and go milk the cows now.” 

“Boo,” you protest. “Can I watch?” 

“Watch me change or watch me milk the cows?”

Your eyes got wide, “I-I- just meant…

“Either one is a yes.” He winked as he tossed the towel onto the counter.

You scoffed and smacked his arm as he smirked, and went up to his room to change. You stayed downstairs, mind kind of racing because he’d all but invited you up there.

He came back down in his work jeans, boots and a t-shirt, hoodie draped over his arm. His smirk snuck back when he saw you in standing in the same place.

“Wanna come help me?” You nod and he tosses you the hoodie. “Here, I don’t want your shirt to get messed up.”

You thanked him, slipping it on and following him to the barn. 

-

With your lateness forgotten, the rest of the evening was fun and educational, even. Bucky showed you how the milking machines worked and laughed at you when you insisited on petting every single cow. After that, you helped him feed the horses.

“I’ve got a name for this horse, Buck,” you say as you pet the nameless horse.

“What is it?” he asks not looking up from what he was doing.

“Vega.”

“Vegas?” He turned his head to eye you, confused. 

“No! Vega,” You laugh at him. “It’s one of the stars you pointed out to me the other night. Part of that… Summer square constellation thing.”

It was Bucky’s turn to laugh, roaring even as he moved a bale of hay into Cap’s stall. “I think it’s the summer triangle, doll. I can’t really remember though, I looked up all that stuff the day of to try and impress you, but we barely looked at the sky at all.”

You blushed. “Well, it worked. I’m impressed.” Very impressed actually, you think as you watched his biceps flex as he moved. 

Bucky grinned as he slid the stall door closed. “That stuff impressed you?” 

You nodded, “Indeed. So does the tossing around of hay bales and the horseback riding.”

He stepped towards you. “Then, maybe you should come over more often, I do both of those things every single day.” His hand cupped your cheek softly. “I, for one, would really like it if you came over more. If you want to, ya know.”

You grinned. “Well, maybe I do.” 

Bucky grinned, too, as he leaned in to kiss you. You returned it, hands immediately finding the biceps you’d been staring at minutes before. Slowly, the two of you backed up against the stall door, consumed in your kiss. His hands were rough to the touch, but gentle, as they slipped under your shirt. 

Never done it in a barn, you think. You start to reach for the bottom of his shirt when he pulls your hair. You don’t think anything of it, you actually liked it. But then he did it again, harder. Your head knocks in to the stall door. 

You break the kiss. “Ouch, Buck. You can pull my hair, but not that hard, shit.”

Bucky looks down at you confused, “What are you talking about--” then he looks at something behind you and bursts out in laughter. “I didn’t pull your hair, Cap did.”

You turn to face the kinky horse. “At least buy me dinner first, Cap, jeez.” You shake your head at him. 

Bucky licked his lips, still a little red from kissing you. “Does making you dinner count?”

“Count for what?” you ask confused. He reached up and pulled your hair, much more gently than Cap had. You blush returned. “Only if I can pull yours.” 

Bucky growled a little before pulling you into a quick kiss. When he breaks it, you pout. He chuckles, “Sorry, slick. Gotta finish tending to my babies.” You sigh and perch yourself on a bale of hay to watch him finish the chores.

- - - 

Taglist: 

@notatallfriendly 

@thechaoticargonaut    

@booktease21 

@iamwarrenspeace 

@titty-teetee 

@harryngtonewithyourshit

@thefridgeismybestie 

#Bucky Barnes #bucky fanfic #bucky barnes x reader #bucky x y/n #bucky barnes au #bucky barnes fanfiction #bucky barnes fluff #bucky barnes x you #bucky barnes x y/n #farmer!bucky #bucky barnes is a farmer #mcu au #MCU fanfiction #b.b. #cowboy!bucky #yeehaaw

[bbrandy2002]

Cowboy, Take Me Away

Wacky Drabble #2

Liam x Riley

Special thanks to @the-soot-sprite and @nazariobae

"Great..It's all over the damn papers and the news!", a stunned Liam shouted, as he tossed the phone on his desk.

Riley bit her lower lip, trying with great difficulty not to burst out into a fit of laughter; it wasn't funny, but... it really was. "Liam...you do look quite yummy in the picture, I can see why this would go viral".

He shook his head, a shade of crimson running from his neck to his forehead, as he paced behind his desk, "You think this is hilarious don't you?".

She shrugged her shoulders with a coy smile, then walked over to him.  She tried to offer comfort and solace, yet, he shirked away from her. "Why are you mad at me? I'll remind you, it was your little kinky ass who just had to fuck in the hayloft".

He jerked his desk chair out and slumped into it, pouting. Picking up his phone again, he returns back to the Cordonian Times website, using one hand to massage his forehead as he leans onto the desk.

Riley stepped behind him and began rubbing his shoulders, before peering over him to view the picture again.

"Look at this", he grumbled,  "I'm in nothing but my skivvies and that ridiculous hat....they even captioned it, 'Save a horse, Ride a King'".

Riley squeeled out loud and had to quickly place her hands between her legs so she wouldn't piss her pants. Through uproarious laughter, "Oh my god...oh my god...ride a king...". With her hands making a galloping motion, "....and rode that king I did.....yee-haw!", she said with a yelp.

Liam peaked sideways at her, not entirely amused by her lack of concern for his reputation. He waits inpatiently for her to stop with the terrible puns and jokes mocking the situation. He sighs and begins tapping his fingers loudly on his desk, hoping she will take the hint.

When she has finally managed to compose herself, she looks at him with an empathetic grin, "I know this is all new to you, but, this is what I have to deal with everyday".

He lets out a huff and raises his voice defensively, "Do you see this, I'm on the front page in my underwear! You don't have to deal with that".

With a hand on her hip, she raises her eyebrow, "Are you freaking kidding me right now? Seriously? Perhaps you remember a little thing called your coronation...our honeymoon... our after honeymoon".

He nods in agreement and sorrow, "Yeah, you're right...I guess you do have some experience in this area". He spins his chair around and clutches her around the waist, pulling her into his lap. He moves her long flowing hair to the side and traces his lips along her neck.  She closes her eyes and leans in further, taking great pleasure in the heat of his breath and fingers grazing up her thigh.

Riley is enjoying every single touch and luring kiss, however, a curious question pops into her head.

"Liam?", she asks, nearly breathless. He mumbles back in response, not pausing for a second.

"Why does it look like you're posing in the picture? And where am I...I was with you?"

Liam ignores her question as he begins fondling her breast and nipping at her earlobe.

She waits for a moment, then removes his hands from her body and stands up. "I'm serious Liam...I was with you the whole time. I don't remember you posing like this!".

He purses his lips and his eyes dance upward, as he fiddles fingers together.

She's gives him a look and we he still won't answer her, she walks away, "Fine....none for you tonight!".

He bolts from his seat grabbing her hand, "Okay...Okay...I'll tell you". He takes in a deep breath and props one side of his ass on the corner of his desk. "While you girls were doing whatever it was you were doing.. Drake, Maxwell and myself were playing truth or dare in the barn..."

Riley scrunches her face and interupts, "That doesn't sound like you, were you drinking?".

"Maybe, just a little", he answers "..anyway, Maxwell dared me to run around the farm in just my underwear, when I got back, they stole my clothes and wouldn't give them back to me until I posed for a picture".

Riley rolls her eyes, "Why would you do that, you know how Drake is with getting embarrassing pictures of you to send to Anya on Tumblr....she must have posted it".

"I told you...I was drunk off my ass.....fucking Drake....I may be kinky, but, doing it in a smelly barn isn't something I'd do sober, I was pulling hay out of my crack all the next day."

"Well...", she said in a sultry voice, "this office is no barn and I wouldn't mind riding my king again...you know...to save the horses", she palms his dick.

Liam leans over, opening the bottom drawer of his desk, pulling out his cowboy hats. He puts it on his head and removes his clothes.

He lifts her up so that she is straddling him.

"Cowboy, take me away".

#choices trr #the royal romance #trr liam #trr fanfic #liam x mc #king liam #the royal heir #trh #choices trh #drake walker #liam x riley #trr #trr drake #wackydrabbles

[afantasticbeastwriter]

Artwork || Newt Scamander x Reader

Genre: Fluff. Word Count: 2,710 Prompt: “I was wondering if you could do a newt x reader in which the reader wants to do an illustrated version of his book, and he asks her why not do a book of her own, and she says she really loves his works because she has a farm and loves these creatures so much? Just all Nerdy and happy because she is his fan?” A/N: Thank you charlie-charlotte for requesting this :) As always, I took my own little spin on this, so I hope you enjoy where it went! Be sure to let me know. Also, if you read this and enjoy it, feel free to request something of your own! I’m always looking for more requests. Enjoy!

When you were little, your mom bought you picture books.

These books were your escape to the outside world, a vision of the wonders of what life outside of the farmland you called home could look like. Large bodies of water, heroic castles, bustling villages – they all intrigued you. They sparked your wildest dreams to come alive, so much so that you requested a new book from your aunt every year for your birthday. Even when you grew into your teen years, you still requested them.

As you matured, you found yourself wanting to do more than fantasize about the world. Coming from a farming family where travel was not financially possible, the only other step you could take was to recreate the world yourself right at home. Drawing was even more of an escape for you. You started off by drawing the horizon, coloring in the beautiful backdrop of a sky that came with each passing sunset. By the time you hit age sixteen, you could nearly recreate the marvelous meshing of the clouds and rays of sun in the way a photograph could. At eighteen, you could do the same for the barnyard animals. Your favorite subject was the family of horses your family owned. Of them, your favorite was a Palomino named Dashing. His flowing locks and golden skin never ceased to challenge you in your skills.

It was not until age twenty that you found your first real challenge, however. Out of nowhere, snapping like the crack of a whip, a man appeared nearby your barn. You were sitting alone by the barn door cleaning out some buckets when you heard it, and the noise immediately sent you hiding behind it. Peering out, you watched this man – clearly disheveled – wipe off his coat, set down his briefcase, and gaze around his surroundings. He caught sight of you moments later. Though a great drawer, you could hardly hide to save your life. Knowing very well where farm tools such as axes rested, you watched the man approach the barn with bated breath. He gave you a gentle smile when he got close.

“Hello.” His voice sounds like he could not harm a fly, but you remain on edge. “Would you…would you mind telling me where this is?”

Raising a brow, you looked the man over. “You show up here and don’t know where you are? Pardon my asking, but not many people just show up here for pleasure, sir.”

“I’m a traveler,” he replied. “I seem to have gotten lost. Am I anywhere near London, perhaps?”

You shook your head. “You’re a far bit away, I’m afraid. Welcome to Scotland.”

“Scotland.” He looked down at the ground – at what, you hardly could tell. What you could tell, however, was that his hair was quite long compared to the other guys in your family’s hair, and that you found it rather dashing. He certainly was a foreigner, for no man you knew looked like that.

“Would you, um, have a place I could stay for a night?” He paused. “I’m quite tired, you see, and traveling at night is not exactly preferable.”

“You’re not going to steal our stuff and rob our farm blind, are you?”

The mere sound of the idea seemed to sicken the man. “Of course not, no. Would never do anything of the sort, I swear.”

Giving in, you sigh and move out from behind the barn door. “It’s not much, but you can rest in the barn. I’ll bring some linens so you don’t have to sleep only on hay. I know that can get uncomfortable, I’ve done it myself a few times myself.”

The man smiled. Again, he appeared more dashing than you thought possible, this time so much so it caught you a bit off guard. Ever the gentleman or too distracted to say, he did not point it out. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome.”

Turning your back on the stranger, you made your way out of the barn and out to your home. Though only a few yards away, it felt like an eternity to you to walk. Every moment not with the stranger was a moment he could be doing something bad, maybe stealing feed or tools, or planning on harming some of the animals. It also was a moment lost in figuring him out and getting to know more about him. After all, when else was a strange man going to just appear out of nowhere on your doorstep when your family was gone? This was a rare opportunity, and you were missing it to go grab bedsheets to get dirtied up in hay.

If you did not fear your family returning so soon, you would ask the man to stay inside with you. For courteous means only, of course.

After grabbing sufficient linens and taking a, albeit embarrassing but necessary, moment to fix your hair nicer, you ventured out to rejoin the man. By then, the sun was beginning to set and most of the animals were looking to bed down themselves. He seemed rather alert compared to them, rifling through something in his lap quite avidly. Unable to see just what, you inched closer to him and cleared your throat so as to not surprise him. His innocent gaze up at you at the sound proved your actions worked like a charm, that same dashing smile reappeared on his face. You moved to give him the same smile back, but then your eyes caught sight of exactly what was in his lap, and all bets went out the window. The linens fell from your arms as you lurched forward, reaching for the papers he held with a shrill “hey.” He held them away from you, quite perplexed at your sudden movements.

“I’m sorry, what are you exactly trying to do?”

“Grab those,” you grumbled, reaching again in vain. “Give them back now.”

He frowned. “They’re quite lovely, are you sure I cannot-”

“Yes,” you grumbled, “I am very sure. Give them to me now, or I will not hesitate to throw the linens back inside and make you sleep by the manure pile tonight.”

That was a chance he did not seem to wish to take. He handed back your papers to you compliantly and gentlemanly, and you snatched them as fast as you could away. You made quick work of throwing them onto your workbench, far from where he could grab them. His eyes glanced over to them, but he did not dare make a move their way, courteous of your wishes.

“We can probably set up a spot for you in the back so you’ll be less cold-”

“When did you learn to draw so well?”

You spun around. “I thought we were going to drop that.”

“I’m sorry, but I cannot help but inquire how you developed such an extraordinary talent,” he replied, shyly hiding behind his hair. “Have you had any professional training?”

Shaking your head, you tossed his linens to the floor. “No, I have not, and I taught myself, thank you. Now, leave it alon-”

Before you could finish your word, a large roar seeming to come from the man’s briefcase stunned you into silence. Eyes wide, you looked between it and him with a mix of shock and horror. He, however, sat with only a slight hint of worry, which only exaggerated your feelings. You did not know who this man was, but anyone who did not look flabbergasted and terrified when their briefcase roared did not exactly scream that he was someone safe. You took a step back, eyeing the barn door.

“What was that?”

“N-Nothing, really.”

“I wasn’t born yesterday,” you scoffed, “so you can cut that act. Tell me what that was or you can kiss your sleep space goodbye.”

Sighing, he looked over at his case with exasperation. It rumbled again, this time shaking a bit in a way no suitcase ever should. You watched as he went to it and opened it, releasing the noise into the barn around you both with a vengeance that startled the barn animals. He looked regrettable of that, but your thoughts quickly turned to the fact he proceeded to step down into his case. Among a sharp “What?” from you, he climbed down until he disappeared. Two minutes of you panicking internally passed before he reappeared. In his arms was a baby creature you never had seen before, not even in your picture books. It had the body of a lion. In place of its mane, however, was a puffy, sack-like pouch of skin with sharp points to it. You hardly knew what to make of it, or of the fact the man was cradling it in his arms like a small child.

“Wha-”

“They’re called Nundus.” He pet the squirming cub and shushed it. “The one you’ve been hearing is the mother. She’s been rather irritable since having her most recent litter.”

You sat, mouth agape. “N-Nun..what now?”

“This one is Cleo,” he said softly, scratching the critter behind its ears. It let out a mewl no louder than a kitten’s which, undoubtedly, was adorable. “He’s the smallest of the litter, you see. I’ve had to give him special attention ever since he came down with an illness at birth.”

“Illness?”

“He struggles to keep down his food.” Cleo let out a scratchy roar and pawed at the man’s coat. He gave a small smile before holding his paw down. “Nundus must have proper nutrition in order to develop. I was journeying to find a special herb just outside of London I’ve read up on that is supposed to ease digestion and soothe nausea. Seems as though I journeyed too far off course, though.”

“How…how did he fit in there?”

He followed your eyes to his case and frowned. “Have you heard of magic?”

You laughed. “Magic? Really? That’s your explanation?” Scoffing, you crossed your arms and raised an eyebrow at him. “Seriously, I’m not stupid. Shocked and confused out of my mind,” you added, “but far from stupid.”

“I know.” Meeting your eyes, he gestured for you to take the Nundu cub into your own arms. You looked even more taken back with this request, but he pressed on until you found the cub in your grasp, squirming and mewling just as it had been before with him. Just when the shock of that began to wane, the man pulled out what legitimately looked to be a wand. Shaking your head, you laughed again.

“Do you really know? Because I think you’re havin’ a laugh with that wand right there.”

But then, you realized he wasn’t. With a mumbled word, he pointed his wand and shot bright sparks from it toward your drawings. Right before your eyes, the animals you drew came alive and literally came off the page. A beautiful horse, a near copy of your favorite Palomino, stood proudly against the sheep and deer you saw on your walk earlier that day. It took your breath away. Cleo nearly fell from your arms as shock set in.

“My name is Newt Scamander,” he eased out, gentle, not wanting to scare you. “I was born a wizard and went to Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. And, no, I am not joking, nor do I believe you are anything but incredibly competent. And that’s the truth.”

“They…they’re real,” you breathed. Newt chuckled.

“As real as Cleo and the rest of my creatures.”

“Rest? There’s more?“

Nodding, he took Cleo from your arms and opened his case. “You may see them if you so wish. Though I must accompany you, as they are quite animated today. All the traveling, you know.”

“Yeah,” you said. You really did not know, though. You hardly had left your barn home. Newt showing up was the most outside contact you had experienced in a long time. Part of you wondered if these creatures of his he spoke of really were magic, or if you were just that sheltered. Not even your internal monologue could stop you though from following down into his case.

The inside reminds you a lot of your office back inside your home. It’s wooden and cluttered with knick knacks as far as the eye can see, and if Newt was not there guiding you forward through it, you would have wondered if he was lying about the creatures. But then he brought you into a habitat with skies and grass and animals, and you are stunned silent. Everything he said was true. Everything he mentioned was true. Even Cleo seemed to have his place in the vast area, bounding over to a large rock. From on top of it appeared a larger, more fearful version of him. She did not growl like she had before, choosing to instead cuddle against her young cub and welcome him back. Newt smiled their way.

“So?”

You shook your head as a winged creature flew above your head squawking. “I feel like I’m dreaming.”

“You’re not.” Newt blushed under your gaze. “Believe me, you’re not.”

“You just carry these guys everywhere?”

He nodded. “Everywhere I can. I’m studying them, you see. I wrote a book about them, actually.”

“You have a book?” Blinking, you eagerly looked to him. “Can I see it?”

Appearing rather taken back, he gazed at you for a second before moving back toward his office space. When he returned from it, a small book was in his hand. He extended it to you shyly, his eyes hardly looking your way. You took it with a soft murmur of thanks and then rushed to the nearest seating spot to read.

It took you very little time to get into the book. It reminded you a lot of what you wished your picture books were – full of insight, imagery, and excitement for creatures. The way this man, Newt, seemed to capture everything about a creature, even a strange one, blew you away. He made creatures you hardly knew the first thing about sound as enticing as a puppy to meet. Not even five pages in, and you were smiling ear to ear.

“I bloody adore this.”

“You do?”

“Let’s just say I’ve read two paragraphs on a Demiguise and I desperately want to meet one,” you laughed. “I’m such a big fan of whatever this is. Do you have a copy I could have?” Newt’s eyes filled with wonder and delight before softening, shyness taking him over once more. Cocking your head to the side, you threw an inquisitive look he could not ignore his way.

“Y-Yes, um,” he fumbled, taking a moment to mentally force his next words out clearer. “Would…would you ever, and do not take this as pressure to do so, but…would you be interested in…well…”

“Would I be interested in what, Newt?”

“Drawing,” he said with a gulp. Without an immediate response back, he cleared his throat and peered at his feet. “For my book. I’m a pitiful artist, you see, and s-something about your drawings…you bring the creatures to life. My book needs that. M-My book needs you.”

Your eyes widened. “You’re talking about my work, right?”

“Yes.”

“That’s mental,” you breathed.

“It’s the truth,” he said. “Please, consider it. O-Or at least making a book of your own. You’ve such an extraordinary talent, it would be a shame for you to let it go to waste.”

With a sigh, you looked to his book and then back to him. He was so hopeful. Even though it scared you to think about your work being seen by others in the world, something told you that you would not be able to live with yourself if you let down Newt. Perhaps it was his eyes. They seemed to see so much in your work. More than you did, honestly. Who were you to doubt that?

“How about this,” you said, handing his book to him, “let’s get your bed set up, I’ll put the animals up for the night, and then…then you can tell me more about what magical animals I’ll be drawing for your next edition.”

Newt’s smile made all your nerves worth it.

“That would be lovely.”

“Let’s get to it then, stranger.”

#newt scamander #fbawtft #fbawtft imagine #newt scamander x reader #fantastic beasts #Newton Scamander #newt x reader #fbawtft fanfic #fantastic beasts imagine #fantastic beats and where to find them

[hermionegranger]

So i’m working on another novel. Any input, criticism or notes would be greatly appreciated. I’m tryin’ to go for a darker take of a fairy tale... kind of turning the tropes on their heads (though it definitely starts off in a very stereotypical fairy tale way.) Lemme know friends!!!! Prologue

When she was growing up, fairytales had been a game: castles and princesses and sword fights. The tall grass that surrounded their ranch made for flimsy turrets, swaying with the breeze, but providing enough cover not be seen. They would push the grass down until it was flat, and sit cross-legged, claiming the land as their new makeshift castle. They brought imaginary teacups to their lips as they sipped imaginary tea and giggled at the prospect of a prince. Then Aldric would come barreling through the brush, wooden sword in hand and a war cry on his tongue. Emmy and Cicely would yelp and grab their twigs and swing.

           As Emmy grew older than her twin cousins, she would read to them instead, of queens and dragons and far off lands. She had no more time for castles made of grass and swords made of twigs; there were animals to feed and horses to brush. There were errands to run and tutoring sessions to attend. The little ones would join in her chores soon enough, as Aldric had already begun to feed the pigs when she requested, as the mud and dung clung to her shoes when she went into town and the store keeps would shoo her out for the smell.

           At twenty, the fairytales had fallen away from memory. Cecily and Aldric were fifteen now, old enough to read to themselves, and old enough to help with the chores. She’d finally shaken herself from the tutoring sessions, and instead used her free time to ride her horse into the valley. There was a lake she particularly liked, something about it felt otherworldly. She had once dreamt a woman with long, white hair down to her knees had emerged from the water and laid a sword at her feet, and though Emmy no longer believed in fairytales, she couldn’t shake the magical feeling the lake gave her. It became her personal little oasis from reality. A reality of mud, dirt, and horrible stenches.

           So, when a boy arrived at their ranch in the middle of a hot summer night, Emmy did not venture to think he had brought a fairytale with him.

She did not venture to think he had brought her fairytale with him.

Nor did she think her fairytale, of castles and kings and sword fights, would not be a fairytale at all.

Chapter I

It had been a rainy summer day, leading into a humid evening. The horses were rattled by the change in the air, as Emmy tried to shush them into a sense of calm. The animals could always tell when a storm was coming, they felt it in a way no human could.

“Shush, now, Arabella, it’s just a bit of rain that’s coming. You’re fine.” She ran her hand down the creature’s cheek. “You’re fine,” she repeated.

Arabella wasn’t her horse. Well, according to her uncle none of them were technically her horse, but she’d mentally claimed one nonetheless: Amberlee, the only horse that sat silently in her stall, clearly aware they were not in mortal peril. It was an emotional connection between the two of them, one that money or titles couldn’t break. Amberlee listened to her, she trusted her, she felt her. Now, she registered Emmy’s calm, and became calm herself.

The other horses, however, could care less for Emmy’s demeanor, choosing instead to focus on their own instincts. Emmy couldn’t blame them; she probably would have done the same.

Sighing, she nodded to Amberlee, before retreating from the barn. The animals were not going to listen to her, nor did they apparently receive any comfort from her presence.

The evening air was warm and suffocating. The sun had gone down not an hour ago, and the sky was a velvety midnight blue. It was her favorite time of day, the still moment between day and night: the in-between.

Sweat began to pucker on her brow as she trotted toward the house, taking in the last of the twilight. Swinging the door open, she found Aldric and Cecily already setting the table for supper.

“Em!” chimed Cecily, balancing a tower of bowls in her hands, “did you make sure all the chickens are in? It’s going to rain tonight.”

Emmy smiled at her younger cousin. Cecily had gone from child to adult overnight, suddenly becoming the responsible one of the family.

“Of course. The horses can sense it,” Emmy said, winking. Cecily smiled and continued setting the table.

Emmy’s aunt stood above them, a pot in one hand and a large serving spoon in the other.

“The stew’s not going to wait for anyone! Hurry now.” She ‘tsked her children as if they were ponies. Emmy only giggled, grabbing a bowl from Cecily and placing it at her usual seat.

As the children rounded their chairs at the table, Uncle Koda clunked down the stairs, as graceful as usual.

“Crops are gonna drown if the rain keeps up like this,” he mumbled, throwing his hat at the coat rack (completely missing). He fell into his seat. “Mama, tell me you got somethin’ good for us.”

Aunt Seren put her hand on her hip, still clutching her serving spoon. “You know it’s the same old stew. And be grateful.” She shoveled a load of her famous (or infamous, depending on who you ask) rabbit stew into his bowl. “The rest of the crops this season are going straight to the crown, so get use to it.”

Uncle Koda only grumbled before taking a large spoonful of stew.

Aldric placed bread from the stove on the table, just enough for each of them to have a gripful.

“Don’t worry, paps,” Aldric said cheerfully, taking his seat as Aunt Seren filled his bowl, “next season there will be plenty to go around.”

Again, Uncle Koda only grumbled into his food.

Emmy didn’t mind so much, the stew or the repetition of their meals. It was better than an empty belly, and she’d seen too many bone-thin children in the town, begging for scraps. Their parents were dead or gone, probably starved, or had fell victim to some disease, like hers. A roof, a full belly, and a family was considered rich around here, and she was thankful.

“Just eat your food before the King claims this meal, too, eh?” Uncle Koda chastised, and then added, as an afterthought, “and don’t go repeating that. I’d like to keep my tongue.”

“I, too, would like you to keep your tongue,” Aunt Seren winked, and Koda grinned like a mad man. Cecily and Aldric tossed each other a puzzled looks, and Emmy pretended to gag.

X

Cecily and Emmy had already curled up in their makeshift bed by the time Aldric climbed the ladder into their shared room, the only second floor room of the house. He crawled across the floor and fell into the pile of blankets he used as a bed, exhausted.

“Long day?” Emmy raised an eyebrow as she propped herself up on her elbow. Cecily was already snoring quietly beside her.

Aldric shot her a look, as if the question wasn’t even needed. “I never want to see hay again,” he moaned.

“You and me, Ric.” She shook her head, and repeated, “you and me both.”

Aldric rolled away from her, facing the wall, and Emmy hopped out of bed. She padded over to the fireplace to stoke the fire, and sighed. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. The sooner she went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come, and she just wanted a few moments to herself in the quiet of the night.

Grabbing a book (one of the few they owned), Emmy went to the window, where she sat in the small alcove. Rain had begun to fall, gently at first, before turning into loud slaps against the glass. She prayed it wouldn’t wake her cousins; she just wanted a moment of silence.

Watching the rain, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander down the road, toward the town. The only other place she’d ever been. She constantly caught herself imagining the world beyond: beyond the valley, beyond the town, beyond the ranch. She heard so many stories from merchants in the village, who often traveled north in the summer months to sell their wares. They came back with tales of the King and his castle, the prince and his new bride. She wondered what it would be like to be married to a prince, instead of moving hay and brushing horses all day. Would it be as glamorous as it seemed? Was his new bride happy? Hidden behind the walls of the palace? Being waited on hand at foot? Or was it an unhappy arrangement, made only for political gain? She imagined the bride crying as she dressed in her sprawling wedding gown, using her veil to hide her tears, beautiful and tragic.

Those were her favorite stories, the kind that made her weep with empathy for the tragic heroes, but warmed her heart at the same time. The kind where the princess would fall madly in love with her suitor, only to have him sacrifice himself to save her. Was it truly possible to love someone so much?

Emmy was lucky. She knew she was lucky. Lucky to have a family and a home, to have a belly full of stew as she slept in a warm bed beside her cousin who was more like her sister. But she couldn’t help but want more. More adventure, more romance, more places. The world was so large, after all, but she had only ever seen her small corner of it.

The guilt washed over her again, for wanting to leave, for wanting to abandon her family. Where would she go, anyhow? She knew no one outside the village. She didn’t have a horse of her own, not truly.

She reminded herself, as she always did, to be grateful for what she had. And she was. She was grateful. But a childhood of books and fairytales had filled her imagination with such wonder, that she didn’t believe she could ever be happy with her life on the ranch. Not truly happy. Not the way one was in a proper happy ending.

As she began leafing through the pages of the book in her lap to find where she had left off, a blur in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned back to the window, squinting through the rain, and saw a figure on a horse, coming toward the ranch. The singular road led to nowhere else, only their front door. She sat up straight, fear swimming in her belly. Had something happened in town? Why would a rider come so late? And in a storm?

What message did he bare?

Through the mosaic of rain droplets on her window, she couldn’t make out who the man was. He looked like a painting through the glass, all soft edges and blurred lines.

The man discarded his horse, not bothering to tie the beast up. Then he was gone, too far below the angle of the window for her to see. She heard light tapping on the door below, soft, but urgent in its tune.

After a few moments, she heard nothing. The air was silent once again. Only then did she let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it in.

Climbing from the window, she crawled quietly to the ladder and peered down onto the first floor. The soft, flickering glow of a fireplace burning in the kitchen illuminated the hall below, but she heard nothing.

She waited a few more moments, waiting for a sound. Waiting for something.

Emmy peered over her shoulder back to her cousins. Each was still, their chests rising in tandem, drawing slow, deep breaths.

Emmy bit her lip, hesitating only a moment before descending the ladder.

The door to the kitchen was ajar, just enough to allow light to spill into the hall in a tall line. She heard murmurs.

The man was here.

Nerves swam. She knew she shouldn’t be here, knew she shouldn’t listen, but none of that stopped her as she tip toed toward the door. A voice in her head told her to run, to cover her ears and retreat back up the ladder into her warm bed, but she willed it away. She would only listen for a moment.

Through the crack in the door she could see the fireplace, burning much too lively for this time of night. Normally, Aunt Seren would have doused it hours ago.

This close, she could finally make out the voices.

“No. No. It’s not time for anything,” Uncle Koda scolded, clearly agitated.

Then the stranger spoke, “it is, and she deserves to know.”

“She’s too young,” Aunt Seren said simply, calming.

Emmy couldn’t see the man, nor her Aunt or Uncle, but she could sense the tension in the air. Who was too young? Cecily? She was nearly sixteen now...

The man snorted, “she’s a grown woman in her own right, and it’s her right to know, to choose. Not yours.”

“And certainly not yours,” Koda snapped.

A choice? For Cecily to make? Emmy’s thoughts swarmed, each trying to outrun the next. Did this man want to marry Cecily? Or perhaps he meant her. A chill went down Emmy’s spin. Was this stranger asking for her hand? To take her away from this life, this family, forever? She wanted adventure, oh, how she longed for it, but not like this. It was supposed to be on her own terms, not on anybody else’s.

The man sighed in defeat. “No, not ours. But this is a plan twenty years in the making; without her, it will fail. Without her, it can’t even truly begin.”

Emmy’s stomach was in knots. Twenty years. That was exactly her age.

The man continued, “But that’s beside the point. Everyone deserves to know where they come from... who they are.”

“Where you come from does not determine who you are,” Seren whispered harshly.

There was a pause, and then, “for her it does.”

It felt like a large hole was forming inside of her. She was twenty years old. She did not know where she came from, not precisely. She had been told her parents names, where she was born and how they died but... she didn’t know. Not truly. She had no portraits, no trinkets, no proof. She had no memories, only words, and words were thin. Words dissolved like smoke on the wind.

Uncle Koda only sighed, a deep and heavy sigh. “We will speak on this more tomorrow. It is late and I am tired.”

Emmy heard the scraping of a chair against the wooden floor. Her heart jumped and she began to retreat.

“But I want you and your father to remember,” Koda continued, ”she is my daughter. No matter who her parents were. I raised her. I held her as a babe, I wiped her tears away, and I will defend her until my last breath.”

Emmy’s breath caught, and she felt like she was choking on some invisible force. So it was her they were talking about.

Another chair scrapped across the floor, “Of course. But it is her life, nonetheless, to do with it what she will,” the man countered.

Emmy was nearly at the front door now, but she could still faintly hear the voices. She willed her feet to take her away, up the ladder or out into the front yard, anywhere that wasn’t here, but they wouldn’t move. If she barged into the kitchen now, would they tell her the truth? Would her Uncle be angry?

Of course he would be, he already was. She wanted answers. Tonight. Right now. And she wasn’t going to get there here, not from him.

Faintly, she heard the stranger speak again, sounding closer this time, “my father thanks you, you know,” he said. “We all do, for your service. For all you’ve done. For all you’ve risked...”

That’s all Emmy heard. She was at the door now, hands and back pressed against the cold wood. She could hear the rain continuing outside, oblivious to the storm that was happening inside this house, inside her. She needed answers, and she needed them now.

Emmy             slid from the house and let the front door shut gently behind her, careful to make no noise. They would emerge from the kitchen at any moment and the last thing she wanted was to arouse suspicion.

Through the rain and chill, she raced toward the stables. The stranger’s horse stood silently in the storm, not caring that he was without a rider or a roof.

Mud splashed up her bare legs and onto her nightgown as she went, which would be hard to explain later, but for the moment she didn’t care.

She burst through the stable doors and padded over the loose hay and dirt floor to Amberlee’s stall. The chestnut mare stood with her knees locked, eyes shut in sleep.

“Amberlee,” Emmy whispered, unlocking the stall door. “Amberlee.” She brushed the horse’s forelock hair away from the beast’s eyes.

Amberlee raised her head in attention, eyes groggily opening to greet Emmy.

           “Hi there, girl,” Emmy cooed, nuzzling the animal with her own forehead. She already had a saddle blanket in hand. “Time for a midnight run, eh?”

           She knew where the man was going. After all, there was only one inn in town, but she felt the need to follow him, incase he decided he’d rather spend the night elsewhere.

           She needed answers.

           Emmy threw the blanket over Amberlee’s back, straightening it quickly. She ran back out of the stall to grab her saddle, and fitted it to Amberlee’s back. Tightening the girth around the creature, she heard a whinny from the man’s horse.

           “Alright, time to ride, Amberlee,” Emmy coaxed the animal out of the stall while making sure the bit was firmly behind Amberlee’s teeth. She grabbed a dark blue riding cloak from the wall and draped it around her shoulders.

           Using a stool, she climbed into the saddle and grabbed the reigns. She squeezed her legs and the animal began a slow walk toward the open stable doors.

           Emmy pulled the reigns taught as they reached the threshold of the stable, signaling the animal to stop. She peered forward as best she could, hoping the man and beast were gone.

           Indeed, the front of the house was empty, and the front door was shut. The glowing light of the kitchen had withered, and Emmy felt a wave of hot relief flushing through her.

           She squeezed her thighs again and Amberlee obliged, trotting into the rain. Emmy responded in a posting trot, rising and falling with the horse’s gait.

           Though it was dark, and the rain obscured her vision, she could make out the indents of a horse’s hoof print fresh in the mud.

           The trail continued.

           Emmy kicked her right heel into Amberlee’s underbelly and the horse jumped into a steady canter. The rain was steady, bleeding into her thick nightgown. Though the air was warm, she shivered.

           Emmy steered Amberlee through the rain, staying to their path, following the hoof prints of the stranger’s gelding.

           Straight to the Inn.

Chapter 2

The inn was old. Very old. Ivy crawled up and down it, wrapping itself around the structure. It had been here as long as she could remember (and probably much longer), but she always thought of it as charming... a familiar and loveable place. A permanent feature in the village. Besides the public house, it was the most popular place for people to congregate.

But it didn’t feel that way now. It felt like a fortress; an enemy.

The stranger’s gelding was already here, drinking loudly from the inn’s trough. Again, it wasn’t tied to the post.

Emmy jumped from Amberlee, and guided her to the water. As the horse bent down to inspect the liquid, ignoring the other horse, Emmy wrapped the reigns twice around the post and pulled it tight.

There were no other horses out front. Perhaps they were already in the stables, as the stranger’s horse would soon be, once the inn’s groom was alerted to a new patron.

Emmy didn’t hesitate as she opened the inn’s doors. If she thought too much, if she took a moment to consider her actions, she would turn around.

Instead, she let her feet carry her straight to the bar.

It wasn’t exactly strange for her to be there. She had come to the inn numerous times for drinks. Just never alone. Normally she’d accompany Uncle Koda on a delivery of eggs or such and the two would then stay for a large cup of ale (or three). It was their little secret: their little getaway. While Seren and the cousins fussed over supper, Koda and Emmy would laugh in their cups.

She took her usual seat at the bar and smiled at Remi, the innkeep, who waved in response.

“Ale?” he asked knowingly.

“Ale,” she nodded.

While Remi poured her drink, Emmy scanned the bar. It was scarcely populated, as usual. The room was small, wrapped in brick walls and a wooden floor. The bar lacked tables, instead using old wooden casks and barrels to set drinks upon. The light was low from the few oil lamps on the walls, and the sparse windows. She recognized most of the patrons in the small, cramped room. Studon, the laundress’s husband, sat in the corner playing cards with the innkeep’s eldest son, Triton. A group of travelers, well in their cups, roared loudly at an obscene joke their friend made, while the lord’s groom and valet conversed quietly with their heads together, two untouched bowls of soup and bread in front of them.

For a moment, she hoped to find Galen there. The apothecary’s son was quite easy on the eyes, and only a few years older than Emmy. She only saw him at the inn or when he brought Aunt Seren’s weekly medicine for her back aches to their house. Both of which weren’t nearly enough. Alas, as her eyes darted from person to person, he was absent.

That left only on patron unidentified.

He sat three seats to her left, perched at the bar, hovering over an empty bowl and a nearly empty pint. His dark blonde hair was matted down from the rain, sticking to his forehead, and his cloak lay damp around his shoulders. He starred down into his drink, seemingly oblivious to the world around him.

Remi plopped the pint of ale down hard in front of her, letting it splash onto the counter.

She snapped her gaze back the barkeep. He was an older, large man, with jolly red cheeks, swollen from years of excessive drinking.

“No, Koda tonight, Em?” he asked, wiping his calloused hands on his apron.

Emmy shook her head. She glanced at the blonde stranger, hoping he hadn’t heard Remi mention her uncle’s name. She wasn’t quite sure how she was going to approach him. Not yet.

“Nope, not tonight.” She wrung her hair out, letting the cool rainwater flow through her fingers and drip onto the wood floor. “Just needed to get out of the house for a while; always loved the rain.”

It wasn’t exactly a lie. She did need to get out of the house, and she did love the rain, though perhaps not riding into town through it.

She took a large swig of her ale. It was dark and nutty, and it coated her throat as it went down, warm in her belly. She savored the sensation.

Suddenly, she felt the stranger slam his empty pint glass on the counter. Without a word he swaggered off toward the stairs, taking them two at a time.

It was now or never.

“Who was that man, Rem?”

The innkeep swiped the empty glass from the counter and dropped it into an empty basin.

He shrugged, “dunno. Never seen ‘em before. He didn’t say much. Just asked for a drink and a room, like most men comin’ through here.” He dragged his hand under his nose. “Paid an extra coin though.” He winked.

“What room is he in?” she asked without thinking.

Remi was clearly taken aback, furrowing his brow and cocking his head, “his room? Why would you wanna know that?”

Emmy leaned forward and took another large swig of her drink. “Just tell me his room and I’ll bring you extra eggs in the morning, okay Rem?”

“You ain’t gonna cause no trouble now, are ya? Koda ain’t gonna come down and bash my head in d’morrow is he?”

Emmy flashed a sly smile; it made it easier to lie. “Of course not. I think he’s just... an old family friend.” And she slid Remi an extra coin.

Remi eyed her for a moment before fingering the coin into his pocket. “First door on the right.”

She chugged the rest of her ale, feeling a drop escape the side of her mouth. She wiped it away with her arm and handed the empty cup back to Remi.

Nodding her goodbye, she pushed herself off the stool. The warm alcohol in her stomach made it easier to approach the stairs, easier to climb each crooked step, easier to stand in front of the first door on the right.

But even the drink couldn’t dose the rush of nerves she felt as she reached for the door handle.

She took it, and turned, slowly, quietly.

Locked.

Her shoulders dropped in disappointment. And relief.

She summoned her courage once more, with a single breath, and knocked three times.

“Whose there?” The stranger inside called. Emmy noticed his accent instantly: eastern, with hollow vowels and sharp edges. In the kitchen his voice as been muffled, but now it was clear as a bell.

Suddenly, she realized she hadn’t thought this far ahead.

“Uh, a friend,” she said simply.

“Don’t have any of those, and not interested in making any, nor do I have any coin. Move along now,” the stranger answered, closer to the door now.

“I’m a friend of Koda’s,” she said, lower this time, as if it were a beloved secret.

The stranger behind the door hesitated a few moments before swinging it open.

He stood only a few inches taller than her, his dirty blonde hair now dry and slightly curled, recently attacked with a towel. He had large blue eyes, clearly shocked by her appearance, and a young face, with a shadow of scruff. He couldn’t be older than 25, but handsome in a boyish way.

“Did he send you here?” he asked suddenly.

“I need to speak with you. Privately,” she answered, ignoring his question.

“Did he send you here?” he asked again, more harshly this time.

She pursed her lips in annoyance. “Not exactly.”

“Does he even know you’re here?” He raised an eyebrow.

Emmy crossed her arms. “May I come in please?”

The stranger sighed and stepped aside, extending his arm in the direction of the room, almost sarcastically.

She stepped in. It was small, with two cots pressed against adjacent walls. A large window was slightly open in the center of the back wall, rain pounding against it. A travel bag was stuffed into a corner, half under the bed, and damp clothes lay atop it.

She strolled in and stopped short of the window, turning slowly toward him.

“Who are you?” he asked after he shut the door behind him. He crossed his arms across his tunic-clad chest; he clearly had been preparing for bed.

“Emmy,” she answered without thinking and nearly swore aloud at herself.

Something flashed behind his eyes, something... knowing. He dropped his arms and took a step forward, brow furrowed.

“Emmeline?” he asked.

Now it was Emmy’s turn to be confused, and she let it show, “Emmeline? No. Just Emmy.”

“Just Emmy,” he repeated, and she nodded in confirmation. A shiver flashed down her spin as her dark, wet hair clung to her shoulders, seeping through her cloak and nightgown.

“Alright, Just Emmy, what have you come here for?” his eyes dropped to her bare, muddy feet. She must have looked like a lunatic.

Emmy wrapped her arms around herself, suddenly feeling very aware of herself and her situation. “Why did you visit my uncle? Whom were you talking about? Who are you?” she fired off.

The stranger sighed and dragged a hand through his hair. “My name is Von and I’m a friend of your uncle’s. But as for the rest, I’m afraid you’re going to have to ask Koda about that.”

Not good enough.

“You seem a bit young to be friends with my uncle,” she countered.

The stranger, Von, was clearly uneasy. He shifted his stance and leaned against the door, crossing his arms again. “Family friends, then. He is a friend of my father’s.”

Her uncle rarely hosted visitors, and when he did, they were from town; she knew all of his friends.

“And who is your father?”

Von looked her up and down, as if estimating if she was worth the answer. “Look, it doesn’t matter. You should go back home and ask your uncle these questions.”

Apparently she wasn’t.

“I know you were talking about me. My parents, where I came from,” she said defiantly.

She wouldn’t leave here without answers.

“What do you know? Who were they?” she asked softer.

He shook his head, a tinge of empathy in his light eyes, “it’s not my place,” he said quietly.

“Look, why do you think I came here?” she said angrily, feeling the rage beginning to boil in her blood.

He didn’t answer.

She stepped closer, trying to get her point across. “Because Koda doesn’t want me to know. He isn’t going to tell me the truth. Not fully. He’ll try to protect me when I don’t need protection, just like he did tonight.”

Again, he was silent. He flicked his gaze to the window behind her.

She sighed and her shoulders sunk with her loosened breath. “I don’t need protection,” she repeated. “I need answers. I need the truth,” she pleaded.

He flashed her an empathetic look: brows drawn together tight, eyes sad.

“Emmeline,” he spoke, finally. He pushed himself off the wall and stood straight.

“What?” she shook her head, not understanding.

“That’s your real name. Your full name. Emmeline Hale of House Garmon.”

Hale. Garmon. Emmeline. Where had she heard those names before? They were buried in her brain, she’d learned them before... years ago... but where?

Then it hit her. Suddenly she felt as if she’d been thrown from a horse, her breath stolen from her lungs.

Her lessons. She’d learned those names in her lessons.

“Garmon...” she repeated. “But that’s...”

“The Duke’s House. Well, the late Duke’s House,” Van said simply.

Emmy nearly laughed. The late Duke’s House? She was a member of a duke’s house?

“My parents were of House Garmon?” she asked, trying to piece together his cryptic words.

“You’re parents were House Garmon. All that was left, anyway. Until you.”

“Wait, but,” Emmy shook her head. What he was saying didn’t make sense. “House Garmon was the Duke, the Duchess and their daughter... but they are all dead.” She remembered the stories. The late Duke and Duchess of House Garmon led a campaign for independence and were executed for it. Their babe died from illness months after, but not before the King had bestowed the Dukedom and title to a new House. The rebellion died with them, as did the cries for independence. The Duchy remained part of the kingdom.

Von rubbed his brow in irritation. “Well, yes, that’s what the history books say. But when was that? When were they executed?”

Emmy shrugged her shoulders, “I don’t remember exactly... twenty years ago?”

Von nodded. He was waiting; waiting for her to connect the dots.

She shook her head, feeling as though the room was suddenly beginning to grow a lot smaller.

“You can’t be saying...”

“I am,” he cut her off. “I’m saying you’re the heir of House Garmon. The sole heir.”

She wanted to laugh again. Or cry. She wasn’t quite sure.

“That’s impossible. That would mean...”

“That you’re parents are Cal and Livinia Hale of House Garmon and you’re the sole heir to their title? Yes, that is exactly what it means.”

She may be the one standing barefoot in a stranger’s bedroom, covered in mud and rainwater, but he was the mad one.

“Their heir is dead. Their house is dead. Their title was stripped,” she reminded him.

Von bit back a tight smile, but she could see him fighting to keep it hidden. “That’s what the King believes. That’s what the people believe.”

She shook her head, speechless. It was just... preposterous. She slept on a makeshift cot stuffed of hay and feathers every night. She ate stew for dinner every evening. She walked in pig shit every day. She wasn’t a duchess. She wasn’t of the peerage. She was an orphan, a farm girl. She was nothing.

Von must have noticed her disbelief. “A babe did die, but it wasn’t their daughter. It wasn’t you.” He ran a hand through his hair again. “The Duke and Duchess knew the sack on the palace was coming. They knew the King would have their heads. My father smuggled you out that night, and you were replaced with a sickly babe. It died not long after your parents... and that was the end of the Garmon family, or so they believed. The King thought he’d squashed the rebellion along with your family, but we’ve been here, waiting, for twenty years,” he concluded.

The room was, indeed, getting smaller. She felt the walls closing in. The daughter of a Duke and Duchess? A rebellion laying in wait? But for what? For her?

No, no. What a ridiculous fantasy. Surly, it was a jest, a cruel joke against an unknowing girl.

But in the back of her mind... the pieces were falling into place. Her schooling had gone on much longer than any children in town, even longer than her younger cousin’s. Her Aunt and Uncle avoided speaking of her parents, even when she asked an innocent question. And the lack of marriage proposals at her age... all these years she thought it was just her, that simply no one wanted a dirty farm orphan, but perhaps there was another reason, perhaps there was more. She thought of Galen.

She put her hands on her hips and raised an eyebrow, refusing to show the fear that was beginning to swirl inside her. “Where’s your proof?”

He shrugged and put his hands in his pockets. “I don’t have any.”

She was about to open her mouth to refute his claim but he cut her off.

“But your uncle does.”

#creative writing #novel #my edit #personal #writing

[loptrcoptr]

this woman who I will be an independent contractor for (and who is possibly the Worst Person in the state) wants me to wrote a bio for myself for riding lessons at her barns and I’m like… dude idk lol I went to Lots of College, I don’t exactly have a long list of clinics and trainers to point out, I have been too broke for that for approximately ten years, I’m… a Horse Grifter. I have no skills but the skills of a mediocre con man in the 19th century, I’m less “talented” and more “convenient”

#personal #she was like ‘can you toss my horses at x place some hay tonight?’ and I said ok because do n a stupid fuckwad #expecting there would be nine horses and I’d only have to toss them hay BEFORE I WOILD LEAVE #TO FEED HER OTHER HORSES #WHICH I FEED SUN MON WEDS ALWAYS ANYWAYS #but no no no. I get there the gates closed I have to crawl under #there are four more horses than I thought there’d be. I’m not sure whether they #got their grain today or not #so o end up giving grain and supplements and random ass shit #and TWO HAY BALES (I am five feet tall and Not Strong) to thirteen fucking horses #trying to soak shit for the old ones so they don’t die of dehydration out in the ninety degree heat ofc #running around trying to find the horses in a paddock that I hadn’t been warned about #while a lady at the gate honks at me because my car is in her way… #I got paid for this but f u c k it was not enough I was wearing a sundress and sandals bc id come from work #and it was 90 degrees and enough work for two ppl #anyway! hate this woman and dunno what the fuck to tell her to advertise for me because a) hell do I say about me and b) she’ll do whatever #she wants in the end anyway

[hermionegranger]

Prologue

When she was growing up, fairytales had been a game: castles and princesses and sword fights. The tall grass that surrounded their ranch made for flimsy turrets, swaying with the breeze, but providing enough cover not be seen. They would push the grass down until it was flat, and sit cross-legged, claiming the land as their new makeshift castle. They brought imaginary teacups to their lips as they sipped imaginary tea and giggled at the prospect of a prince. Then Aldric would come barreling through the brush, wooden sword in hand and a war cry on his tongue. Emmy and Cicely would yelp and grab their twigs and swing. As she grew older than her twin cousins, she would read to them instead, of queens and dragons and far off lands. She had no more time for castles made of grass and swords made of twigs; there were animals to feed and horses to brush. There were errands to run and tutoring sessions to attend. The little ones would join in her chores soon enough, as Aldric had already begun to feed the pigs when she requested (the mud and dung clung to her shoes when she went into town and the store keeps would shoo her out for the smell). At twenty, the fairytales had fallen away from memory. Cecily and Aldric were fifteen now, old enough to read to themselves, and old enough to help with the chores. She’d finally shaken herself from the tutoring sessions, and instead used her free time to ride her horse into the valley. There was a lake she particularly liked, something about it felt otherworldly. She had once dreamt a woman with long, white hair down to her knees had emerged from the water and laid a sword at her feet, and though Emmy no longer believed in fairytales, she couldn’t shake the magical feeling the lake gave her. It became her personal little oasis from reality. A reality of mud, dirt, and horrible stenches. So, when a boy arrived at their ranch in the middle of a hot summer night, Emmy did not venture to think he had brought a fairytale with him. She did not venture to think he had brought her fairytale with him. Nor did she think her fairytale, of castles and kings and sword fights, would not be a fairytale at all.

Chapter I

It had been a rainy summery day, leading into a humid evening. The horses were rattled by the change in the air, as Emmy tried to shush them into a sense of calm. The animals could always tell when a storm was coming, they felt it in a way no human could. “Shush, now, Arabella, it’s just a bit of rain that’s coming. You’re fine.” She ran her hand down the creature’s cheek. “You’re fine,” she repeated. Arabella wasn’t her horse. Well, according to her uncle none of them were technically her horse, but she’d mentally claimed one nonetheless: Amberlee, the only horse that sat silently in her stall, clearly aware they were not in mortal peril. It was an emotional connection between the two of them, one that money or titles couldn’t break. Amberlee listened to her, she trusted her, she felt her. Now, she registered Emmy’s calm, and became calm herself. The other horses, however, care less for Emmy’s demeanor, choosing instead to focus on their own instincts. Emmy couldn’t blame them; she probably would have done the same. Sighing, she nodded to Amberlee, before retreating from the barn. The animals were not going to listen to her, nor did they apparently receive any comfort from her presence. The evening air was warm and suffocating. The sun had gone down not an hour ago, and the sky was a velvety midnight blue. It was her favorite time of day, the still moment between day and night: the in-between. Sweat began to pucker on her brow as she trotted toward the house, taking in the last of the twilight. Swinging the door open, she found Aldric and Cecily already setting the table for supper. “Em!” chimed Cecily, balancing a tower of bowls in her hands, “did you make sure all the chickens are in? It’s going to rain tonight.” Emmy smiled at her younger cousin. Cecily had gone from child to adult overnight, suddenly becoming the responsible one of the family. “Of course. The horses can sense it,” Emmy said, winking. Cecily smiled and continued setting the table. Emmy’s aunt stood above them, a pot in one hand and a large serving spoon in the other. “The stew’s not going to wait for anyone! Hurry now.” She ‘tsked her children as if they were ponies. Emmy only giggled, grabbing a bowl from Cecily and placing it at her usual seat. As the children rounded their chairs at the table, Uncle Koda clunked down the stairs, as graceful as usual. “Crops are gonna drown if the rain keeps up like this,” he mumbled, throwing his hat at the coat rack (and completely missing). He fell into his seat. “Mama, tell me you got somethin’ good for us.” Aunt Seren put her hand on her hip, still clutching her serving spoon. “You know it’s the same old stew. And be grateful.” She shoveled a load of her famous (or infamous, depending on who you ask) rabbit stew into his bowl. “The rest of the crops this season are going straight to the crown, so get use to it.” Uncle Koda only grumbled before taking a large spoonful of stew. Aldric placed bread from the stove on the table, just enough for each of them to have a gripful. “Don’t worry, paps,” Aldric said cheerfully, taking his seat as Aunt Seren filled his bowl, “next season there will be plenty to go around.” Again, Uncle Koda only grumbled into his food. Emmy didn’t mind so much, the stew or the repetition of their meals. It was better than an empty belly, and she’d seen too many bone-thin children in the town, begging for scraps. Their parents were dead or gone, probably starved themselves, or had fell victim to some disease, like hers. A roof, a full belly, and a family was considered rich around here, and she was thankful. “Just eat your food before the King claims this meal, too, eh?” Uncle Koda chastised, and then added, as an afterthought, “and don’t go repeating that. I’d like to keep my tongue.” “I, too, would like you to keep your tongue,” Aunt Seren winked, and Koda grinned like a mad man. Cecily and Aldric tossed each other a puzzled looks, and Emmy pretended to gag.

X

Cecily and Emmy had already curled up in their makeshift bed by the time Aldric climbed the ladder into their shared room. He crawled across the floor and fell into the pile of blankets he used as a bed, exhausted. “Long day?” Emmy raised an eyebrow as she propped herself up on her elbow. Cecily was already snoring quietly beside her. Aldric shot her a look, as if the question wasn’t even needed. “I never want to see hay again,” he moaned. “You and me, Al.” She shook her head, and repeated, “you and me both.” Aldric rolled away from her, facing the wall, and Emmy hopped out of bed. She padded over to the fireplace to stoke the fire, and sighed. She was exhausted, but she didn’t want to sleep. Not yet. The sooner she went to sleep, the sooner the morning would come, and she just wanted a few moments to herself in the quiet of the night. Grabbing a book (one of the few they owned), Emmy went to the window, where she sat in the small alcove. Rain had begun to fall, gently at first, before turning into loud slaps against the glass. She prayed it wouldn’t wake her cousins; she just wanted a moment of silence. Watching the rain, she couldn’t help but let her mind wander down the road, toward the town. The only other place she’d ever been. She constantly caught herself imagining the world beyond: beyond the valley, beyond the town, beyond the ranch. She heard so many stories from merchants in town, who often traveled north in the summer months to sell their wares. They came back with tales of the King and his castle, the prince and his new bride. She wondered what it would be like to be married to a prince, instead of moving hay and brushing horses all day. Would it be as glamorous as it seemed? Was his new bride happy? Hidden behind the walls of the palace? Being waited on hand at foot? Or was it an unhappy arrangement, made only for political gain? She imagined the bride crying as she dressed in her sprawling wedding gown, using her veil to hide her tears, beautiful and tragic. Those were her favorite stories, the kind that made her weep with empathy for the tragic heroes, but warmed her heart at the same time. The kind where the princess would fall madly in love with her suitor, only to have him sacrifice himself to save her. Was it truly possible to love someone so much? Emmy was lucky. She knew she was lucky. Lucky to have a family and a home, to have a belly full of stew as she slept in a warm bed beside her cousin who was more like her sister. But she couldn’t help but want more. More adventure, more romance, more places. The world was so large, after all, but she had only ever seen her small corner of it. The guilt washed over her again, for wanting to leave, for abandoning her family. Where would she go, anyhow? She knew no one outside the village. She didn’t have a horse of her own, not precisely. She reminded herself, as she always did, to be grateful for what she had. And she was. She was grateful. But a childhood of books and fairytales had filled her imagination with such wonder, that she didn’t believe she could ever be happy with her life on the ranch. Not truly happy. Not the way one was in a proper happy ending. As she began leafing through the pages of the book in her lap to find where she had left off, a blur in the corner of her eye caught her attention. She turned back to the window, squinting through the rain, and saw a figure on a horse, coming toward the ranch. The singular road led to nowhere else, only their front door. She sat up straight, fear swimming in her belly. Had something happened in town? Why would a horseman come so late? And in a storm? What message did he bare? Through the mosaic of rain droplets on her window, she couldn’t make out who the man was. He looked like a painting through the glass, all soft edges. The man discarded his horse, not bothering to tie the beast up. Then he was gone, too far below the angle of the window for her to see. She heard light tapping on the door below, soft, but urgent in its tune. After a few moments, she heard nothing. The air was silent once again. Only then did she let out a breath, not realizing she had been holding it in. Climbing from the window, she crawled quietly to the ladder and peered down onto the first floor. The soft, flickering glow of a fireplace burning in the kitchen illuminated the hall below, but she heard nothing. She waited a few more moments, waiting for a sound. Waiting for something. Emmy peered over her shoulder back to her cousins. Each was still, their chests rising in tandem, drawing slow, deep breaths. Emmy bit her lip, hesitating only a moment before descending the ladder. The door to the kitchen was ajar, just enough to allow light to spill into the hall in a tall line. She heard murmurs. The man was here. Nerves swam. She knew she shouldn’t be here, knew she shouldn’t listen, but none of that stopped her as she tip toed toward the door. A voice in her head told her to run, to cover her ears and retreat back up the ladder into her warm bed, but she willed it away. She would only listen a moment. Through the crack in the door she could see the fireplace, burning much to lively for this time of night. Normally, Aunt Seren would have doused it hours ago. This close, she could finally make out the voices. “No. No. It’s not time for anything,” Uncle Koda scolded, clearly agitated. Then the stranger spoke, “it is, and she deserves to know.” “She’s too young,” Aunt Seren said simply, calming. Emmy couldn’t see the man, nor her Aunt or Uncle, but she could sense the tension in the air. Who was too young? Cecily? She was nearly sixteen now... The man snorted, “she’s a grown woman in her own right, and it’s her right to know, to choose. Not yours.” “And certainly not yours,” Koda snapped. A choice? For Cecily to make? Emmy’s thoughts swarmed, each trying to outrun the next. Did this man want to marry Cecily? Or perhaps he meant her. A chill went down Emmy’s spin. Was this stranger asking to for her hand? To take her away from this life, this family, forever? She wanted adventure, oh, how she longed for it, but not like this. It was supposed to be on her own terms, not on anybody else’s. The man sighed in defeat, “no, not ours. But this is a plan twenty years in the making; without her, it will fail. Without her, it can’t even truly begin.” Emmy’s stomach was in knots. Twenty years. That was exactly her age. The man continued, “But that’s beside the point. Everyone deserves to know where they come from... who they are.” “Where you come from does not determine who you are,” Seren whispered harshly. There was a pause, and then, “for her it does.” It felt like a large hole was forming inside of her. She was twenty years old. She did not know where she came from, not precisely. She had been told her parents names, where she was born and how they died but... she didn’t know. Not truly. She had no portraits, no trinkets, no proof. She had no memories, only words, and words were thin. Words dissolved like smoke on the wind. Uncle Koda only sighed, a deep and heavy sigh. “We will speak on this more tomorrow. It is late and I am tired.” Emmy heard the scraping of a chair against the wooden floor. Her heart jumped and she began to retreat. “But I want you and your father to remember,” Koda continued, ”she is my daughter. No matter who her parents were. I raised her. I held her as a babe, I wiped her tears away, and I will defend her until my last breath.” Emmy’s breath caught, and she felt like she was choking on some invisible force. So it was her they were talking about. Another chair scrapped across the floor, “Of course. But it is her life, nonetheless,” the man countered. Emmy was nearly at the front door now, but she could still faintly hear the voices. She willed her feet to take her away, up the ladder or out into the front yard, anywhere that wasn’t here, but they wouldn’t move. If she barged into the kitchen now, would they tell her the truth? Would her Uncle be angry? Of course he would be, he already was.  She wanted answers. Tonight. Right now. And she wasn’t going to get there here, not from him. Faintly, she heard the stranger speak again, sounding closer this time, “my father thanks you, you know,” he said. “We all do, for your service. For all you’ve done. For all you’ve risked...” That’s all Emmy heard. She was at the door now, hands and back pressed against the cold wood. She could hear the rain continuing outside, oblivious to the storm that was happening inside her. She needed answers, and she needed them now. Emmy slid from the house and let the front door shut gently behind her, careful to make no noise. They would emerge from the kitchen any moment and the last thing she wanted was to arouse suspicion. Through the rain and chill, she raced toward the stables. The stranger’s horse stood silently in the rain, not caring that he was without a rider or a roof. Mud splashed up her bare legs onto her nightgown as she went, which would be hard to explain later, but momentarily she didn’t care. She burst through the stable doors and padded over the loose hay and dirt floor to Amberlee’s stall. The chestnut mare stood with her knees locked, eyes shut in sleep. “Amberlee,” Emmy whispered, unlocking the stall door. “Amberlee.” She brushed the horse’s forelock away from the beast’s eyes. Amberlee raised her head in attention, eyes groggily opening to greet Emmy. “Hi there, girl,” Emmy cooed, nuzzling the animal with her own forehead. She already had a saddle blanket in hand. “Time for a midnight run, eh?” She knew where the man was going. After all, there was only one inn in town, but she felt the need to follow him, incase he decided he’d rather spend the night elsewhere. She needed answers. Emmy threw the blanket over Amberlee’s back, straightening it quickly. She ran back out of the stall to grab her saddle, and fitted it to Amberlee’s back. Tightening the girth around the creature, she heard the whining from the man’s horse. “Alright, time to ride, Amberlee,” Emmy coaxed the animal out of the stall while making sure the bit was firmly behind Amberlee’s teeth. Using a stool, she climbed into the saddle and grabbed the reigns. She squeezed her legs and the animal began a slow walk toward the open stable doors. Emmy pulled the reigns taught as they reached the threshold of the stables, signaling the animal to stop. She peered forward as best she could, hoping the man and beast were gone. Indeed, the front of the house was empty, and the front door was shut. The glowing light of the kitchen had withered, and Emmy felt a wave of hot relief flushing through her. She squeezed her thighs again and Amberlee obliged, trotting into the rain. Emmy responded in a posting trot, rising and falling with the horse’s gait. Thought it was dark, and the rain obscured her vision, she could make out the indents of a horse’s hoof fresh in the mud. The trail continued. Emmy kicked her right heel into Amberlee’s underbelly and the horse jumped into a steady canter. Emmy steered her through the rain, following the hoof prints of the stranger’s gelding. Straight to the Inn.

I know the story begins very.... cliche. But the whole point of it is going to be to turn the regular fairy tale/YA tropes on their heads by the end... so bare with me! Also please ignore any spelling errors and such.... I haven’t gone through it fully. Any feedback is GREATLY appreciated. Even if it’s harsh! (I got a little lazy at the end... will probably add more eventually)

#captainswan618 #creative writing #personal #fanfiction #but not really just need that tag sorry