#just released kindle books

[foxgloveinspace]

Putting my CDs out on my book shelf so I can hopefully remember that this is what I want to collect right now🤞🏻

[paulwhitewriter]

OUT NOW – Michael York, a Time Slip Drama

The story follows Michael York, a seasoned intergalactic Marshal, who, while pursuing a dangerous fugitive, gets trapped in a time rift finding himself unexpectedly thrust back to the 1980s.

Packed with suspense, quirky twists, and laugh-out-loud moments, Michael York blends sci-fi adventure with a light-hearted take on time travel and human relationships. It’s a witty, fast-paced Bite Size Read that will keep you on edge and entertained from start to finish.

***

The recovery team was assembled, waiting for te final authorisation to create a gateway. They were taking their sweet time, but I knew why. Earth was in the blue sector, “Old Blue,” as they often call it, named after the planet itself. It was where humans originated, but now it was just a dying outpost, a home to the Scrapers, the last few miners and water shifters.

The star, the planet’s Sun was in decline, and Earth was being stripped of everything, ore, minerals, water, plants, and even soil. Eventually, when the last man leaves and turns those proverbial lights out, there will be almost nothing left, just the planet’s core. Everything else gone, taken, and shipped out to the colonies in distant galaxies.

Human life goes on, but planets are finite.

Read this Bite Size drama NOW.

Kindle/eBook and Kindle Unlimited, https://amzn.to/4f8hHbf

[oveliagirlhaditright]

That moment when you finish reading book four of The Zarryiostrom series, and realize it's better than A Song of Ice and Fire.

And I've always loved The Zarryiostrom series and thought it was pretty close to being as good as ASoIaF--or just as good as it--but damn, do I think it just surpassed it for me.

(I actually fell behind on The Zarryiostrom series for a good while there, because the series has such pretty art in it. And all of the books until book four had had printed and kindle versions--and I had the printed versions, which I prefer because I feel you can see the art better there than on your small phone screen, of course. But for the longest time with book four, there was only a kindle version... and I kept holding out hope that they'd release a printed version of it, and they finally did.)

[walks-the-ages]

Project Gutenberg just released this as their newest Public Domain ebook!

For all you vintage crafters out there :)

[revelboo]

Last night I dreamed about you (not a strange dream)Basically, in my dream, you were famous to the point that all two stories here on Tumblr were physical books/available on Kindle. One day, on my birthday, I received a gift from my friend: The hardcover editions of "give up/give in" and "everything is alright". Man, what a good dream. The covers were SO BEAUTIFUL, glossy and probably the most beautiful things I've ever seen. Like, I woke up sad, because they were so perfect that I wanted them to be real. The last thing I remember doing in the dream was finishing reading both books on the same day because i was so excited!

Anyway, thanks for making me go crazy over Transformers again! I've been following you since the first 'chapters' of Everything is Alright (I think I found your account when you were releasing the 5th or 6th).

Hugs from a Brazilian fan 💗🇧🇷(And sorry for any words I may have misspelled. I'm not very confident about my English writing 🙂)

Haha nooo this stuff is just purely just my bored rambling nonsense. It’s not even beta read or edited really- it’s super rough. I’m glad you like it, though. I hadn’t been active in the fandom in ten years or so myself before I started writing these snippets.

Give Up/Give In Pt 14

Earthspark Megatron x Reader

• Landing, he waits for you to get clear before transforming so he can kneel and offer you his cupped hands. “Where are we?” You ask, settling yourself in his palm as he stands and walks up to the massive, hidden door recessed into the mountainside. And grimacing, he tries to think of a nice way to explain that he doesn’t trust Ghost. That he likes having his own place to recharge where he doesn’t have to constantly worry or look over his shoulder. Not even Optimus knows about this place and he can appreciate that his old friend also hasn’t pried, respecting his privacy. But letting himself in, he’s suddenly painfully aware of how empty the space is.

• “it’s just a place I can escape to for quiet,” he says, but there’s an edge to his tone that makes you think that’s not the whole answer. You don’t push, though, looking around. There’s a berth against a wall. A storage locker, and what might be a shower area in a corner, but it’s spartan and doesn’t really look like a place someone lives in. No photos, no mementos collected over the years. It’s not a home. “It’s not much, is it?” He asks as if reading your mind and you flinch, because what do you know about Cybertronians? Maybe uncluttered and empty is their design aesthetic.

• Wishes he can tell what you’re thinking as you look around. Do you find it lacking and lonely? It’s never mattered to him before, but now it does. Dorothy’s home is full of things. Odds and ends that humans tie memories to. What do you make of his hideaway without those human things? “It’s fine. You’re sure I’m not in the way here?” You ask, looking up at him and his spark warms that you’re worried about imposing on him. Just like you hadn’t wanted to impose on the Malto’s. Pulling the air mattress and blankets Dorothy had let him take from his subspace, he sets it up on a corner of his berth. The box of water and packaged MREs go beside it and he turns to find you watching him.

• “I like the company,” he says, nudging the box with a servo. Is he lonely recharging here alone instead of in the Ghost facility with the Autobots? He’s not given you a lot of details, but you get the impression he doesn’t trust Ghost and that Dorothy isn’t entirely sold on them either even though she works for them. Aware that you don’t have all the information, but okay with that for now since you don’t want to hound him. “You’re welcome to stay as long as you want,” he adds, letting you avoid the real world a bit longer. To take the time to get yourself together.

• If you’re here, he can keep an optic on you. Live up to his promise. Knows you’ll want to leave him eventually and go back to your life, but he’s not about to make you until you’re ready. And until then, it’ll be nice to have someone to talk to. Someone that doesn’t only see the monster he’s trying to leave behind. “Thank you,” you say and he reaches out a servo, one corner of his mouth twitching when you lay a hand on it. Because your trust? It means everything and he wants to be worthy of it.

Previous

Next

[bonefall]

DON'T PANIC

I GOT THE BOOK EARLY.

I'm going to liveread over at @bonebabbles, trying to limit how many screenshots I take and just assessing the damage. Coolabi/Harper Collins can be a bit testy when there's too many screenshots of leaks posted, apparently, and the book officially releases on Jan 7th.

From a cursory Control + F though, there's some baaaaad facts to report.

Fernstripe, Wafflepelt, AND Stormcloud are allegiance-only. That's THREE fresh, non-Clanborn characters introduced to ThunderClan, the most bloated Clan by far, who are completely unused.

Shellfur, meanwhile, has 4 mentions. This points towards the Erins having totally forgotten he's supposed to be Fernstripe's mate. If this is a mistake, or if they are planning a conflict about his cheating/dumping of Fernstripe, remains to be seen.

Moonpaw did not absorb her twin in the womb; there was a stillborn sister. I am actually happy about this, having fought tooth and nail during The Mooncourse.

In fact, Starpaw/Moonpaw's Sister/Whatever you'd like to call her, she seems to be portrayed as more of a haunting than an evil second personality. Also good, imo, I don't think the Erins would have been able to portray a headmate well.

Tawnypelt and Crowfeather interact a lot. The way she develops a crush on him is a lot funnier than I thought it would be, she's like... actively kicking herself about it in two scenes LMAO Ok Mad King Cherith, I will continue to dodge your fireballs but maybe it will hit the kindle of this conveniently placed pot of soup I have placed nearby.

[nightfurmoon]

BLACK HAT'S HANDBOOK FOR VILLAINS WILL BE OUT ON JULY 18 2024

(The price is in pesos don't be scared lmao)

For now it's only in Penguin Libros MX site, but like they did in the past, I'm sure they'll release it elsewhere like Google Play, Kindle and such. Seems like just the eBook is up for preorder so we are getting it digitally first maybe?

I'm so exitedd!!

Source below!

EDIT: Google Play link where you can preorder! https://play.google.com/store/books/details/Alan_Ituriel_Manual_para_villanos?id=CT8QEQAAQBAJ

[bookish-phile]

release day!!

no, it's not release day but i forgot to post this here..

I'm officially a published teen author apparently (it feels the same guys. why haven't I grown wings and horns yet?);

anyway so my book released on the 3rd and it's available on Amazon!! (should be available on other platforms too like B&N but that may take a while)

oh and if you have Kindle Unlimited you can read it there for free! :))

just gonna put the link here: amazon

and some very random pictures and the TROPES (why are there so many omg?? that just looks very messy) ANDD the annotations I did on my proof copy! I've acc never annotated a book bc hey guess what im a coward 😮‍💨🫶🏼 but i did for mine cuz?? I can get more copies? SO yeah that was very fun.

and moodboards of my MCs which btw i can never stop making it's like my go-to when i don't wanna study.. and finally, CHARACTER ART yay

🏷️ gonna tag the same people as last time IM SO SORRY FOR ANNOYING YOU xoxo ily

@never-enough-novels @reminiscentreader @thejudeduarte @jesyverse @ant-thebooknerd @his-littlefox @starlightbooklove @darlingod @thenightmareinyourcloset @catapparently @thesongofsoleil @chaiichait @tunguszka20 @x-liv25-jamieswife @cromulentreader @highladyofterrasen7 @ur-mother-is-ketterdam @dreamyreveriie @dreaming-in-daylight @mqstermindswift @arqbella @elysianwayy77 @xoxo-lenah @unch4rtedwxters @mikotosworld @catacombspooks @imsaraht @tiredpapergirl @stars-over-ice-cream @justalunaticfangirl @slarxsa @sheisntyouspam @starsandmarsbars @your-mommy-ems @hxress23 @berryzxx @house-in-the-backyard-trees @arias-archive @shattermelyhfmlblog @balladofareader @f4iry-bell @letmeliveinelfhame @lyrakanefanatic @knife-wife @123letsgobestie @hyacinth-dancing-in-rain @averyriskygamble1989

[trippinsorrows]

looking through your eyes + three

authors note: wow! omg, thank you all so much for the kind words of support for this story! it really does mean a lot to me, cause i know the content is pretty heavy.

also, if anyone has read the acotar series, i imagine the dynamic between roman and the twins to be a bit similar to the bat boys. and yes, we'll def see more of the twins moving forward.

in addition, if you want to be tagged, you have to explicitly ask as such. the last thing i want to do is tag someone i thought wanted to be tagged and didn't, and they end up triggered. :(

if any cw/tw’s are missed, please let me know, and i will add them!

cw/tw: language, violence against women, trauma responses (nightmares/night terrors), hints at suicidal thoughts, references to traumatic past

song inspo: 'looking through your eyes’ by leann rimes

masterlist

words: 9k

Roman doesn’t come back until the wee hours of the morning, and he’s out the house again before the sun is even up.

Solana knows all of this because she doesn’t sleep that night.

It’s not for lack of trying. She spends nearly two hours twisting and turning before finally accepting that sleep isn’t in the cards for her. She instead finds herself sitting on the floor of her bathroom, door locked, writing away in her journal. No letter to mom this time, just pure word vomit, all of her thoughts and feelings about everything that’s transpired. 

There’s as many tears as there are words, and like always post–writing, she feels a tad bit better. The best and only release she ever has is in her written word, all of the things she could never say aloud, melted from her head and sealed into paper.

When she’s done writing, Solana opts to read a book in her Kindle Library. Doing so makes her realize that she still doesn’t have her stuff from back home. It’s not that she has a lot, but the items she was told to pack just for the first few nights will only last just that—for a few days.

But, Solana doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask Roman about that. She doesn’t think it’s a good idea to ask him for anything, not after she’s clearly and understandably upset him. She’ll just….she’ll just have to make do until it's noticed she's essentially living out of a suitcase. 

And Solana has a thought, an idea, that getting up early to fix him breakfast could be a good thing, something to tame his anger toward her. It’s the least that she can do.

But one look around Roman’s massive kitchen indicates he’s every bit the stereotypical bachelor. There’s only a couple of ingredients, not enough of anything to make an actual meal. There’s also a lot of “meal prep” meals, which makes sense. She can imagine he’s insanely strict with his diet and fitness. One can’t look like Roman Reigns without an intense amount of focus and dedication.

It makes her wonder just what kind of dietary restrictions and preferences she’ll have to learn about him to make meals that he can actually consume. Another question she needs to ask but doesn’t know how or when considering he already has very little to no interest in having anything to do with her.

It’s another thing she knows she’ll have to figure out but tries her best to focus on anything else besides the fact that she’s now married to a man who can’t stand her, the same man her family wants her to somehow assassinate.

Yes…..other things is a much better seat filler.

Solana briefly wonders how she’s going to get to work considering her car is still back at her dad’s house, but just when she’s considering calling an Uber, she’s met in the living room of Roman’s massive estate by none other than his right hand man and cousin.

Solo Sikoa 

All he says is, “ready?” And she realizes that this is how she’s to get to work, that he is to escort her. Him and another set of large men, guards as she realizes. A separate set of guards, not the ones who roam and patrol Roman’s mansion. 

Being around so many men….it’s a different kind of experience. Leaning more on the side of uncomfortable than anything. 

But, she’s at least a bit more at ease when Solo only opens the door to the back of the SUV and doesn’t join in, instead sitting in the passenger seat.

She's grateful for that.

Solo is almost the same exact person as his cousin. Large, strong, stoic and scary as hell. The only difference is that she’s not sure Solo is capable of sentences that include more than 1 to 3 words.

It’s obvious he’s not thrilled about being assigned as her personal guard, and she can’t blame him. There can’t be anything exciting about watching her boring life and making sure nothing happens to her during said boring life.

But Solana can’t deny there’s a small part of her that feels a small sense of comfort at having someone to look out for her. Even if she partially questions his loyalty to said job. Something happening to her wouldn’t do anything to anybody. At all. 

She’d just….cease to exist.

And lately….that hasn’t seemed like the worst thing ever. 

But, it’s when she arrives at work, goes into her office to start to prepare for the work day only to find her brother already waiting that that comfort is obliterated.

“Sis.” Wes' smile is tight and inauthentic, his eyes darting between her and Solo. “Sorry to scare you. I was just hoping we could talk.”

Talk….

Wes never wants to talk to her, not unless it’s him berating and screaming while he beats the shit out of her. 

“Alone.” He gives Solo a faux sympathetic expression. “Family things….you understand, I’m sure.”

Solana doesn’t know if Solo understands or he doesn’t, but she does know that Wes' kind and friendly tone is all smoke and mirrors. She knows he’s pissed that he didn’t catch her off-guard, didn’t catch her alone, that he couldn’t corner her like he always does.

And for a second, Solana believes she’s safe, knows that Solo won’t let Wes lay a hand on her. It’s….it’s his job to keep her safe, right?

But just as that hope is present, it’s extinguished by the reality she knows is inescapable. Solo won’t be with her 24/7. She won’t be protected forever. She’ll eventually be around both Wes and her father alone. And the price she’ll have to pay for denying him in this moment….

It’s not worth it. 

Roman’s words to her father about not touching her are nice in theory, but she knows better. Xavier Miller does what he wants, regardless of what’s said and by who.

“O–of course,” Solana mumbles, fingers dancing at the side of her pants. She turns to Solo. “Please….give us a few minutes.”

For the first time since she’s met him, Solo actually shows some type of emotion. It still stems from anger, maybe a branch of irritation, but it's still something different. “Tribal Chief said I’m supposed to watch you, so that’s what I do.”

She swallows. This is going to require a level of assertiveness that’s almost foreign if not non-existent. “I–I understand, but….Wes is my brother. He—” It’s almost impossible for her to even get the words out. “He would never hurt me.”

Solana almost immediately wants to vomit. That’s all this man has ever done. 

At least since the murder of their mother. 

Solo is struggling but wavering, she can see as much, so she continues. “It’s okay,” she assures, even mustering up a small smile. “Please….just a couple minutes. I won’t—I won’t say anything to Roman.”

Solo still looks torn but eventually agrees, leaving her alone with one of two men who hate her most on this earth. 

The door is barely closed when Wes has her pinned against the wall, hand slapped over her mouth, a knife pressed to the base of her throat.

“You stupid bitch, don’t think for one second that being married to Reigns changes shit,” he snarls. “He doesn’t give a fuck about you. He just doesn’t like people messing with his possessions.”

Solana knows all of this, knows that anything Roman may do that seems to be for her benefit is just him asserting his dominance. She doesn’t need to be reminded of this. 

“Wes, you’re hurting me.” She suddenly feels so stupid saying that, telling him what he already knows. Of course, he is. That’s the whole point. Still, she stupidly believes she can plead to whatever humanity is left in him. If any. “P–please.”

“Shut up,” he hisses, shoving her head against the wall. Solana winces quietly, mindful of Solo who stands outside the door because of her. Because she told him to, because she welcomed this violence onto herself.

“Reigns told dad you won’t be available for a couple weeks, so I suggest you start doing what you need to do to change that. We need to be able to communicate with you.”

This startles her. Why would Roman say that? Did Roman say that? Wes is a master manipulator, and she doesn’t put it past him to be playing mind games.

“I—I don’t know what you want me to do.” And it’s true. Solana has no idea what to do in any of this, how she’s supposed to kill a man who’s more or less impossible to kill, how she’s supposed to win his favor when it’s obvious she already annoys him. It’s all so confusing and overwhelming.

“Did you fuck him last night?”

It’s a question she hoped no one would ask, didn’t believe would be asked because there’s no one who would care enough except for Roman himself.

And while Solana knows being dishonest with her brother won’t turn out well, in this moment, she doesn’t know how he’ll respond if she tells the truth.

So, she lies. She lies to live to see another day, for what reason, she doesn't know. It’s not as if any other day will provide her some sense of solace or security. But, it’s just what she does. 

“Y–yes.”

Wes looks understandably pleased. “Good.” She gaps in fear when he drags his knife against her skin, gently trailing it across, just light enough to avoid drawing blood. “That’s all you’ve ever been good for us for anyway.”

A frown falls upon her face. What….what does that mean?

“Just keep contact open, you understand?” No, she doesn’t, but she has no choice but to pretend that she does. Nodding, Wes shoves her into the wall one more time at an angle that causes her shoulder to take the impact. Wincing, she holds onto it as he releases her and walks out the door. “Don’t fuck this up, Solana.”

Easier said than done. Much easier said than done. 

It’s when he leaves her alone that the tears pool in her eyes. But, it’s when Solo walks in, studying her that she sniffles and wipes at her eyes. “I–I’m fine.”

She’s not.

She’s far from fine. 

————

The day ends up slightly, maybe even moderately, improving. It’s to be slightly expected though as it’s Monday, the day that Solana runs her reading club with the younger kids. It’s always a highlight to see their bright, smiling faces, answering all of their fifty million questions.

It’s a break from a very bleak reality that is her life, immersing herself in their world of pretend and minimal worries.

Sometimes, she finds herself a bit jealous. Jealous that they still have their innocence, that their view of the world hasn’t been painted in red and blood like hers.

But, it’s when Solana is in the back taking her break, journaling, that that improvement takes a deep dive. Because a single knock on the door is followed by the large intimidating frame of her husband entering her space. 

Naturally, her stomach knots. She hasn’t seen Roman since last night, since he helped and scolded her in the same brief timespan. She understands it though and doesn't entirely disagree with what he said.

She’s far from the perfect picture of mental stability. 

Swallowing, Solana stands up and opens her mouth to address him when his eyes go from her face to her wrist. Following his line of vision, she sees why. There’s a blueish/greenish obvious bruise starting to form, beyond that initial point of formation really. It's just a straight up, fully developed bruise.

Roman slowly walks over to her and reaches for her arm. Solana naturally tenses. He hesitates for a second but still takes her wrist, lifting it so that it's at her eye level but still close enough for him to assess. 

She closes her eyes and acts quickly to think of an excuse. “I—umm—”

“Who?”

His voice is quieter than she anticipated and as much as she wishes she doesn't know what he means, Solana knows exactly what he’s asking. She just doesn’t answer. 

“I’m only going to ask you this one time and one time only.” His brown eyes are burning into her as he perfectly enunciates each word. “Who fucking touched you?”

Solana winces at his tone but eventually answers. “Wes....”

Roman drops her hand, and Solana brings her arms to her chest, head dropped. 

He’s pissed. 

That seems to be the only emotion he experiences around her, because of her.

His nostrils are flared as he demands. “Where was Solo?” 

Making him wait for a response is clearly something that sets him off even more, so Solana does her best to answer in a timely manner. “I—I asked him to leave. Wes….Wes didn’t want him in the room.”

“Of course, he fucking didn’t. Why would you—” Roman pinches his nose. A day. It’s been less than 48 hours, only a day in, and this marriage shit already has him fucking stressed out. Being married to this damn girl is like having a fucking child to look after. “From now on, I don’t give a fuck what your idiot brother and poor excuse of a father tell you, you’re not to be alone with them.” Roman’s command is a lot easier said than done. Denying her father or brother has never done her any favors. Solana isn’t sure how to verbalize this to the man in front of her who’s already six different shades of annoyed. “I thought I made that clear to them at the wedding, but obviously, they need a reminder.”

Solana feels every bit the scolded child, murmuring a quiet, “I’m sorry…”

Roman looks at her, and for a slither of a second, maybe even less than that, he feels bad for her. Feels bad because it’s clearly not her fault that she’s so fucked up. With a dad and brother like Xavier and Wes, what chance did she have?

He then briefly wonders about her mother, wonders what the dynamic was like there. But that’s a short lived trail because his mind then goes to his own mother. 

And Roman can’t have that, can’t go down that road for a variety of reasons, reasons that may not be that different from Solana’s. 

“Send me your work schedule.” Redirection is always a good strategy. That and fucking. Obviously, only one is an option for the woman in front of him. 

Panic builds in Solana’s stomach. Why does he want that? Her mind starts to race, arriving at only negative conclusions. Does he want her to quit? That thought kills her. 

Working at the library is the highlight, the only highlight, of her days. She doesn’t know what she would do without that outlet. 

“It won’t get in the way of my duties to you.” Solana typically isn’t the one to advocate for herself. Ever. But this….she can’t lose this, and it scares her to think of what mental decline could happen if she does. Nothing good. That’s for certain. “I—I can get up early and–and make your breakfast and meal prep lunch. A–and I’ll make sure your dinner is ready too by the time you come home—”

Rubbing his temple, exasperated, Roman asks, “what are you talking about?”

She’s not above begging. In a pleading tone, she begs, “please don’t make me quit my job.”

Roman isn’t quite sure what to make of the fact that the most words he’s heard leave Solana’s mouth are practically her begging to keep her job. He can understand it though. He would bet that her only time away from her family was when she was at work. “You can work as little or as much as you want. I don’t care about that.”

His words create instant relief. “Oh–I’m sorry, I thought—”

Roman runs his hand over his face. “You don’t have to apologize for everything.”

“Sor—” Solana drops her head as he exhales. Loudly. It’s not even noon, and he’s already over and done with this damn day.

“What time do you get off today?”

Solana licks her lips, answering. “Three.”

“I’ll meet you then.”

He can see she wants to ask but has decided against it, most likely recognizing his irritation. “We need to get your stuff from that house.” 

And in the midst of her anxiety in this conversation, she finds a glimmer of hope. She’s thankful that this isn’t something she had to initiate to ask him about.  

Something tells her Roman doesn’t like being questioned a lot.

Or at all.

“O–okay.” Is the answer she finally settles on, not wanting to say too much, vowing, “I’ll make sure I’m done by 3pm sharp.”

On one hand, Roman enjoys and respects punctuality, but something tells him Solana’s is based more on fear than anything. “Whenever is fine.”

Nodding and pushing her hair behind her ear, Solana watches Roman walk over to the door, preparing to leave when he asks, “is your brother right handed or left handed?”

His question takes her off guard, and she doesn’t quite know why he’s asking this in the first place. “W-what?”

Roman clearly doesn’t like repeating himself, because his tone takes on an edge. “Is he right handed or left handed?”

Solana swallows. She’s made him mad. Again. “R–right.”

Without another question, he leaves. And once the door shuts, he snaps at Solo, demanding, “why the fuck did you leave her alone with him? I told you to watch her!”

Roman knows his cousin well enough to know that Solo is doing a brilliant job masking his embarrassment at his failure. “She said—”

“I don’t care what she says. You don’t answer to her. You answer to me. Understood?”

Solo keeps his head high, acknowledging, “yes, my Tribal Chief.” Roman wastes no time in exiting the library and entering the SUV waiting for him, slamming the door shut. He pulls out his phone, selecting one of his most recent contacts, hitting dial. 

Jey answers on the third ring, but he’s immediately yelling to someone else, “slam my door one more fucking time, Nicki, and see what happens!” Roman’s jaw clenches, another new source of irritation being presented to him. “Ayo, Uce, now’s not a good time—”

“I don’t care.” Roman’s hot headed cousin and his equally hot headed wife arguing is nothing special. The fight. They fuck. They make up. And do it all over again. It’s not pressing news or even news at all at this point. “The Miller boy. Send him a message. A clear message.”

“I’ve got—”

“Did you hear what I just said?” There must be something in the air or the water, because Roman having to repeat himself is fucking asinine. He speaks once, and everyone should jump immediately. The fact that that isn’t happening is only pissing him off more. “And his right hand…make sure it’s broken.”

Jey sighs on the other end of the phone. “Aight. Me and Jimmy will have it done by the end of the day.”

Roman ends the phone call before his cousin can feed him any more excuses. Head tilted back against the headrest, he tries to settle himself. This day so far has been nothing but inconvenience after inconvenience. 

There’s nothing that pisses him off more than having to repeat himself, having conversations extend longer than they should, and that’s all this day has been thus far. He’s had to over explain and reiterate himself more than Roman feels necessary. 

And the day isn’t even halfway over. 

He needs an outlet.

Roman switches apps, finding one of his more recent contacts and sending out a message. 

Roman: Come over tonight. 

As expected, her reply comes almost right away. 

Samantha: Lol. That didn’t take long.

Samantha: See you then.

————

Solana always struggles with a level of anxiety when entering the home she grew up in. For a myriad of reasons. Most, if not all, being completely valid. Nothing good has ever happened for her in that place. And more often than not, she’d barely be in the house for more than a couple of minutes before she was either being berated or beaten.

Usually both.

But this…..this is different. A lot different, because she’s not walking into hell alone, she’s walking along (behind) Bloodline guards and the 6’3, pure muscled leader of said Bloodline. 

Roman Reigns.

Who also happens to be her husband.

Playing around with the wedding ring on her finger, Solana tries again to remind herself that this is real, that she’s married, that she’s married to Roman Reigns of all people. 

The reality definitely hasn’t set in.

Roman is about to knock on the door again when it swings open. Solana naturally steps back, something Roman takes notice of.

Xavier looks pissed, his fiery gaze landing on her first, but just as quickly as it was present, it's gone, settling into an almost pleasant smile. Directed at Roman, of course.

“Tribal Chief,” he greets. Solana’s gaze is on the ground now, focused on her painted toes instead of the man before her who she’s certain would be unleashing hell on her if not for the multitude of much larger, much stronger men surrounding her. “I wasn’t expecting—”

“I don’t care,” Roman interrupts, voice reeking of indifference. “She needs to go get her stuff.”

“Oh.” Solana can only imagine the difficulty her father is having in not throwing a fit. “Well, we can arrange for it to be delivered—”

“No.”

She means more to think it than to say it, but that intention falls short, because she definitely says it aloud.

And most of her regrets it, but there’s a small slither that doesn’t.

Solana knows her father. She knows him very well. 

Roman has done nothing but piss him off from the very beginning of this whole ordeal, pushing and pushing him. And Solana has always been the object of her father’s anger, but Roman seems intent on making sure that doesn’t happen. 

That means he’ll have to get creative with his punishments.

If he can’t hurt her, he’ll go after the things she loves. 

The few items in that home that she holds near and dear, items that belonged to her mother.

She knows he would dispose of them all so that all that would be retrieved by the movers would be clothes.

And the thought of the only things she has of her mother being discarded like trash makes her sick to her stomach.

She can’t give him that opportunity. 

Looking up, she’s met with two sets of eyes on her. One indicating irritation and the other, curiosity. Swallowing, she stutters, “I’m sorry. I—”

“No.” Roman’s interruption is stark and to the point. “We’re already here. She gets it now.”

“But—”

“Move.”

Xavier’s jaw ticks, but he does as such, stepping to the side. Roman looks back at Solana, motioning for her to walk in. 

Instantly, she’s going to the key holder. She has to make sure she gets her mother’s stuff before anything. But, the key to the attic, the key that’s sat in the same spot since she was a girl, is suddenly missing.

Her stomach drops. 

Without hesitation, she turns to her dad, asking, “wh—where’s the key to the attic?”

Solana knows before he even says anything that she’s not going to like his answer. She just doesn't realize just how much she’s not going to like his answer.

“Oh, I put it in your old room on the dresser.” Solana’s chest is immediately tight, her stomach dropping. Xavier gives that sly smile and little shrug. “Figured there’d be some things you’d want to grab as well.”

It’s hard for Solana to not start crying right then and there, standing between her father and her husband. Two men who dislike her for very different reasons. 

And maybe dislike isn’t a strong enough word to describe the feeling her father has toward her. Because one has to have an inhuman level of vitriol toward another individual to put her in the situation he just did.

That room….Solana hasn’t been in that room in years and planned to never enter it again for as long as she lived. And he knows that. Knows that there’s nothing in there she wants. Knows that she’d rather walk on burning coal barefoot than enter that space of horrific memories and unspeakable horrors. 

“I–I—”

“Is something wrong?”

Roman, watching this whole exchange closely, is instantly annoyed. It’s obvious something is wrong, there’s some story with this old room of hers, because she looks just as terrified as she did last night. And something about this pisses him off all over again, because this man is still trying to defy his orders, still trying to find ways to inflict his torture without lifting a finger. 

“Where’s the room?” 

Solana doesn't expect that question to leave Roman’s mouth, but it instantly brings on another layer of dread. He doesn’t know why she can’t go in that room, and he can never know, but that not knowing is probably going to result in him pushing her to hurry up so they can get the hell out of here.

But, that doesn’t happen. He steps towards her dad and repeats in a calm voice. “Show me.” It’s then she realizes that he’s asking so he can retrieve this key for her.

And that confuses the mess out of her because why? He doesn't have to, doesn’t need to. It doesn’t benefit him in the slightest. 

So why?

But for Roman, it’s simple. He’ll take any opportunity presented to piss off this son of a bitch, and undermining every attempt Miller takes to mess with Solana presents an opportunity for Roman to assert his dominance. 

And it’s obvious by the pure terror that crosses Solana’s face that, for whatever reason, she has zero desire or even ability to enter this room. It does cross him a bit strange that she would have such a reaction to her childhood bedroom, something that typically holds special memories for people.

Until he enters said room. 

Immediately, there’s a darkness about the aura, something heavy and unsettling that he can’t necessarily describe but most definitely feels. It’s a stark contrast to the design and decoration, lots of pink and girly shit, a couple of stuffed animals sitting on the top of the dresser. It’s on the dresser he notices a shattered picture frame that in picking up he sees a photo of a young woman, dark curly hair, beautiful, light eyes and a breathtaking smile. There’s something about her that reminds him of Solana. Her mother. This has to be her mother.

For reasons Roman doesn’t quite understand, there’s something suddenly uncomfortable by looking at this photo, a ghost, someone from the past. A person cruelly and violently ripped away from her family.

It….it hits too close to him.

Laying the broken photo frame down, Roman continues to assess the room and suddenly notices scratches on the door and the wall that holds the door. But, they’re not scratches that come from furniture being moved or kids being rough, they’re clearly nail marks. As if someone was dragged and the scratches a testament of their fight against whatever attack they were facing.

Snatching the key off the dresser, he then redirects his attention to the poorly cleaned splashes of dried blood on the carpet near the bed. He’s suddenly frowning of sorts. 

There’s a story here. A story that paints a dark, grim picture. One that makes Roman slightly curious about just what the hell this girl has really been through in this hellhole?

Not wanting to stay in that creepy ass room any longer than necessary, he walks back out into the living room and ignores Miller’s obvious irritation to reach Solana the key.

Accepting it, she offers the first smile he’s probably seen on her since their first meeting. “Thank you.” Her voice is the usual mixture of soft and quiet but also….grateful. She’s probably the only person in history to ever be so happy at being given something as simple as a key. But Roman isn’t stupid. He recognizes the deeper meaning. 

Nodding, he motions for a few of his men to follow her as she heads for wherever the attic door is located. 

That leaves Roman alone with his least favorite person in the world.

“She can’t take everything, you know.” Xavier shares. He reminds, “she has a brother. My son and I deserve to have something of my late wife to—”

“I don’t care.” And he doesn’t. He honestly, truly doesn’t. “She can take whatever she wants.”

“I understand that she’s your wife, but she was my daughter long before she became your wife. And you’re standing in my house.” Xavier doesn’t skip a beat to contend. “I think you should also remember that, Tribal Chief.”

To be fair, Roman would like to think he’s done a half decent job all day managing his temper. He’s yet to maim or kill anyone which is commendable for him, in and of itself. But something about Xavier pisses him the fuck off to the point where he doesn’t give a damn about controlling his temper. 

And that’s exactly what happens. 

In a matter of seconds, Roman has Xavier by the throat, pinned against the wall, squeezing so tightly he can practically feel the man's bones pressing against his fingertips. “Who the fuck do you think you’re talking to?” Xavier’s eyes are nearly bugging out of his head as he helplessly grasps at Roman's grip, which only makes the Tribal Chief squeeze harder. “Don’t ever fucking forget who runs this. I run it all!” As much as Roman enjoys playing the long game with this bastard, there’s only so much he can put up with. Miller needs to know Roman is not his daughter, but he damn sure will dictate that any interactions with said daughter go through him. “You see Solana when I say you can see her. You talk to her when I say you can talk to her.” Intensifying his grip, Roman notices the color draining from Xavier’s face. And it’s probably the best thing he’s seen all day. “You live because I allow it. You’re still fucking breathing because I will it.” Recognizing Miller is at the door of unconsciousness, he finally lets the man go, enjoying the sight of him coughing violently, nearly laying on the floor. “Don’t you ever fucking forget that shit.”

Xavier, wisely, doesn't say much after that. And neither does Roman, who simply makes sure his men help Solana gather all she needs, which isn’t that much outside of clothes. He starts to ask her about her car, but something tells him it’s under Xavier’s name, which is why he decides against it.

He’ll just get her another one. 

Roman doesn’t want her to have shit to do with this family, largely because he doesn’t want shit to do with this family.

And he knows what the first step toward initiating that separation will be.

—--------

The Warehouse has always been Roman’s escape.

17,000 square feet of escape, completely revamped and redone by him in his early twenties. It’s a massive compound that serves as both a place to train and compete. The former of which being why he’s present and needing to speak to the one person who he has in charge of all the day to day workings of the Warehouse. 

But, that’s all she’s interested in outside of competing herself and only training those with some fire to them.

It’s why he’s not surprised when Nia takes one look at him, then Solana, and with a snort and roll of her eyes, simply says, “no.”

Roman isn’t an idiot. He knew his cousin would immediately decline, would know what he wanted to ask before it could even leave his mouth.

If only he cared about her objection. 

“Wait here,” he mutters to Solana who only nods, hugging the jacket around her body. Solo remains nearly inches away from her. She looks so out of place, a small part of him can’t blame Nia for declining.

Nia continues to walk the balcony, eyes clearly checking in on the various sets of people training. Roman does as well, just not nearly with the same amount of focus and attention. That’s what he has Nia for.

His blood cousin and close friend since they were kids, there’s few people in this world that Roman trusts, and Nia is grouped in that category. She’s a worthy member of the bloodline and a hell of a person to have alongside you in a fight. 

It’s why she's the perfect person for this task.

“Nia.”

“I said no, Roman.” She turns to him, smirking, taunting him in a way only she and his close family can. "You know, that word that you hate?”

It actually makes him chuckle, a speckle of amusement in a day full of anything but. “If you know I hate it, why are you saying it?”

“Because unlike the rest of the world, I’m not your bitch.”

It’s partially true. Nia has never been one to shy away from being completely and, often, ruthlessly honest with her cousin. It’s something Roman sometimes appreciates, enjoying the occasional challenge and differing perspective.

This isn’t one of those times though. 

He again reiterates. “She needs to be trained.” 

It’s abundantly clear that Solana has no backbone, and he can’t entirely fault her for that because it’s also clear that she’s never really had the chance to develop one. But, that’s no longer the case, because while he can deal with the stammering and quietness, her fragility has to go. 

She has to learn to stand up for herself.

She needs to learn how to fight back.

Nia turns around with a sarcastic chuckle. “You really think that girl can be trained? I saw her at the wedding. She looked terrified the entire time. You breathe too hard in her direction, and she’ll probably have a fucking panic attack.” Roman is briefly taken back to last night. Nia hasn’t the slightest clue how true her words are. “She’s not built for this life.”

Roman doesn’t entirely disagree. If there was ever a person who’d do well and significantly better in something cookie cutter, white picket fence type shit, it’s Solana. But she’s here now, this is her life, so they need to make the best of it. She needs to learn how to survive in this life. and he expresses as such. “Regardless, she needs to learn to defend herself to some extent.”

Nia shrugs, leaning back against the railing and crossing her arms. “So teach her.”

“I don’t have the time. Or the patience.” It’s almost entirely true. There are already so many hats that Roman has to wear. Adding on another one that includes teaching a traumatized young woman how to fight is not an option. Even more, something tells him that Solana would do better training with a woman. She seems most skittish around men.

Nia scoffs, pointing to herself. “And you think I do?”

“Nia….” As much as he enjoys sparring with his cousin from time to time, his patience has grown thin. His tone darkens. “I’m not asking you.”

While tempted to continue to push back, Nia isn’t a stupid woman. She can recognize when Roman is about to lose his cool. “Fucking hell….” With a heavy sigh and shrug of defeat, she accepts. “Fine. I’ll do it, but don’t expect me to like her.”

“I never expect you to like anyone.” He chuckles, adding. “And Nia…..take it easy on her at first.”

Nia curses, instantly accusing, “You think coddling her will help?”

“I know being too rough with her won’t.”

A hard exterior is built from experience and tolerance. Roman fully believes that. However, something tells him his new wife has had enough experiences that anything more could push her closer to breaking point. So approaching it almost gingerly would probably wield the best outcome. 

Nia is, justifiably, vexed. “Whatever. I don’t have time for your weak ass wife. I’ll have Naomi teach her the basics, and once she learns how to actually throw a punch without crying, I’ll take over her training.” 

Roman has no issue with this. Solana seemed to be fine around Naomi at the wedding, so it might actually be a good match. “Fine. Just keep me updated with her progress.” Roman adds, starting to walk away.

“Do I have a choice?”

Instantly, he answers. “Nope.”

Nia’s laughter behind him brings a small smile to his face. 

Rejoining the group, he finds Solana looking just as nervous as he left her. “Let’s go.”

He turns and so does Solo, Roman deciding he’ll talk with Solana about starting training back at the house. But, her small voice calling his name, the first time he’s heard her say as such draws his attention.

Turning around, he asks, “yeah?”

She swallows and starts that damn stammering. It’s hard for him to not snap at her to just get it out. He hates that beating around the bush bullshit. “Umm, can we—uhh, stop somewhere?” Roman does his best to hide his irritation. Where the fuck does she need to go? “I just—-I noticed you don’t have a lot of ingredients at the house, and—and I need some things so I can cook.”

Initially, Roman’s first reaction is to tell her no, that she doesn’t need to cook. He doesn’t need her to cook for him. He does just fine on his own, but that’s the thing that makes him pause. He’s not on his own anymore. She needs to eat too.

So, he agrees, “fine.”

“Ayo, uce!”

Jesus Christ.

Roman needs a vacation. A week long vacation, because the way the past 24hrs has drained him more than anything he’s experienced in the past year is criminal.

The twins jog over, exchanging what is an undeniably awkward acknowledgement to Solana. And he doesn't blame them. She’s so damn docile that they probably don't know how to interact with her.

“Let us catch that ride with you.”

Roman shuts his eyes. “Why?”

Jimmy is the one to answer. “You wanted us to debrief you on that thing from earlier, remember?”

Roman realizes they’re referring to the message he had them send Solana’s brother, which he does want to hear about but not necessarily now.

“She needs to stop at the store before we head back to the house,” Roman informs, hoping the twins will just take a car back to the house to meet him their to debrief.

But that’s too much like right, because they end up in the same SUV as him and Solana, seated in the back, while he sits in the middle with her. And it’s not missed upon him how she’s practically tucked in the corner of the SUV, notebook out as she writes away while his idiotic cousins go on and on in the back about whatever.

The old lady from the library wasn’t kidding. This damn girl is always writing. 

When they arrive at the grocery store, Roman reaches for his wallet, sliding out his black card and handing it to her. “Here. Use this.” 

Roman hadn’t thought about this until just now, thought about the need to make his money available to her. He makes a mental note to have his accountant add Solana to all of his accounts and have cards mailed out with her name. In the meantime, she’ll have to deal with using his.

“Thank you.” She accepts the card, quickly asking, “what’s my limit?”

“What limit?”

Her cheeks redden as she explains. “Like….like how much I can spend?"

“There is none,” he answers with a shrug. “Just get what you need.”

Jey suddenly leans forward, tapping Roman on the shoulder. “Ayo, Big Dog, lemme run this by you.”

“No.”

Of course, the word goes in one ear and out the other. “So, I’m trying to explain to her that it’s not what she thinks. I don’t even care about that bitch, but she’s not trying to hear me. Going on and go about how I ain’t shit, I don’t treat her right—you know, the usual—-and so finally, I just snap on her ass cause who the fuck you think you talking to—”

Jimmy agrees. “She acting like you ain’t got no options.”

Jey sucks his teeth, “man, that’s what I’m saying. Like, I ain’t gotta put up with that shit!”

“Hell naw!”

The idea of grocery shopping doesn’t appeal to Roman in the slightest, but neither does listening to his dumbass cousin complain about his marriage problems to his equally dumbass brother. So, it’s the lesser of two evils, really. 

“Fuck it,” he mutters, unbuckling his seatbelt, and opening the door. Solo and Solana’s eyes fall on him as they’d yet to enter the store. “I’ll go with her.”

Solana looks expectedly surprised as Solo simply nods and gets back in the passenger seat.

“I’ll make it quick.”

Roman says nothing, walking alongside her, still providing enough distance to not make her uncomfortable. 

As long as the twins are harping on and on about stupid shit, she can take as long as she wants.

Once in the store, Solana pushing the cart, Roman realizes she was writing down a grocery list that she uses to track the needed items as they peruse what feels like endless aisles. Granted, he hasn’t been inside an actual grocery store in probably close to two decades, if not longer, so maybe this is normal for a grocery store. 

It’s when they reach the produce section that she seems a bit stumped, chewing on her bottom lip, clearly perplexed.

He starts to ask her what’s wrong, but she walks over to one of the workers and takes him slightly by surprise when she starts speaking in a different language. Spanish, he eventually settles on. It’s also the first time he thinks he’s ever seen her smile. Outside of when he gave her the key And laugh. That one is definitely a first. Both small and quiet, but still, a first. She seems to know or at least be familiar with the worker who digs around the produce and reaches over a packaged bag of whatever produce it is. 

It’s when she returns to place the produce in the basket, continuing to walk, that he asks, “you speak Spanish?”

She looks up at him, but not for too long, as if doing so is forbidden, explaining. “My—my mom taught me. She was originally from Mexico.”

Roman figured as such from the picture he saw in her room that Solana’s mom was Hispanic or had some type of Central American ancestry. He’s also surprised by her answering with more than just 3 to 5 words, providing more information than he asked. 

It’s not something he necessarily cares about, but it doesn’t annoy him like it typically does when people give him a longer answer than what’s necessary. 

“Are—are your cousins always like….like that?” Again, she takes him by surprise, up until the point where she immediately goes into apologizing. “I–I don’t mean it in a bad way. I would never—”

“Yes,” he cuts off her rambling. It’s unnecessary because the answer is simple. “They are.” With a mutter, he adds, “they never shut the fuck up.”

Out of the corner of his eye, he sees it. That smile smile, this time conjoined with a small laugh that she does a decent job trying to suppress. And it’s like she catches herself, changing the subject as she asks, “umm, are you—like—allergic to anything? Or is there something you don’t like? I can learn—”

“I can eat anything.” It’s a simple, truthful answer. It also seems like something she’d been wanting to ask but only built the courage to do so at the end of their current conversation, even if brief as hell.

Solana doesn’t say much after that, and it confuses Roman when she tries to grab items on shelves much higher than what exceeds her reach. It confuses him because it would be significantly easier for her to just ask him to reach it. Granted, something tells him just her asking to be taken to the grocery store seems to be her daily quota for requests.

So he takes it upon himself, hand on the small of her back, ignoring how she tenses at his touch, to tell her to step aside as he easily retrieves the item. With a tuck of her hair behind her ear and a small “thank you,” she continue shopping but this time actually, still with that same irksome gentleness, asks him to reach items that she cannot. It’s not a lot, just a couple.

And it’s not long before she’s done, checking out with his card that she makes sure to give back to him immediately. He gets the sense that that’s something she thinks is important to him.

It’s not.

The worst he can see her doing is going crazy at fucking Barnes and Nobles.

Roman has his men load the trunk for her, something that also seems to take her off guard. Like she’s not used to the assistance.

And she probably isn’t. 

————

Samantha Irvin has been on Roman’s revolving roster of women since he was in his teens. The longevity being that It’s always been the easiest with her. Sexually, at least. Their compatibility in that one area, the only one he really (only) cares about, is astronomical. But lately, more in the past few months than anything, she’s dropped a comment here and there about wanting more. 

He’s ignored them everytime. 

Roman has never promised Samantha anything more than what they currently are: fuck buddies. She knows this, just like she knows she’s not the only woman he’s fucking. Nothing about that should indicate him wanting more with anyone, including her.

Well, other than the wedding band now on his finger.

Samantha’s gaze falls on that wedding band, a bitter chuckle leaving her mouth. “I still can’t believe you actually did it.”

“Yeah,” he mutters. Discussing his shitshow of a marriage is the last thing he wants to do and far from the reason he left Solana in the middle of the night to come see her, to come work off his frustrations.

The same reason he invited her over tonight. 

Last night was a dumpster fuck, without a doubt. But today with Solana was….decent. Not amazing. Not awful. Just some strange space in between. Even as they arrived back at the estate and she went straight into cooking, creating something he can’t pronounce but can honestly say was delicious, a meal she delivered to him in his office. There was something manageable about that, this level of she does her thing, he does his, and if their paths cross in the process, he can deal with that.

The intimacy though….that’s something he’ll have to figure out, have to navigate, just not now. Not tonight. 

Right now, he just needs Samantha’s talented mouth on him.

She moves her hands up his chest, biting on her bottom lip. “She’s just a little girl, baby. You need a woman who knows how to please you.” Roman knows the other side of what she’s saying or rather what she’s not saying. Another subtle, or not so subtle depending on how you look at it, hint that she’s the one he should settle down with.

In all honesty, he has, or had, zero desire to settle down with anyone.

Especially not with Sam. She’s the kind of woman that’s good for fucking and nothing else. As much as Solana’s extreme passivity annoys the shit out of him, he’d pick that over the bitching Sam would do. He just knows she’d be on his ass about stupid shit like fucking other woman and not paying her enough attention. Like she’d think she’s somehow above him doing who and what the fuck he wants just cause he put a ring on her finger.

Way too needy.

But at least he can actually fucking touch Sam.

Kinda hard to make a baby with someone who has literal fucking panic attacks just from being touched.

It builds up his frustration again, hence Roman grabbing Samantha by the back of her head, forcing it back. She hisses, both from pain and pleasure. It’s another thing he does actually enjoy about her. She lets him be as rough as he wants and needs.

“Why are you still talking?” There may be a slight dim in her eyes at his question, but she hides it well. “I don’t give a fuck what you think.” He releases his grip and shoves her to her knees. “Put that mouth to actual good use.”

If she’s hurt by his brusque tone, she doesn’t show it, simply bringing her hands to unbuckle his pants. “I got you, daddy…” 

She gets his zipper down when a scream sounds throughout the house, causing her to freeze in her motions as she shoots Roman a confused look.

“What the hell?” Samantha’s obvious irritation is the last thing he hears before adjusting himself as he heads out the room and down the hall.

For some reason, Roman already knows what to expect before he even reaches Solana’s room. Opting against knocking, he opens the door and finds her twisting and turning in the bed, eyes shut, chest moving up and down, a light sheen of sweat on her forehead.

Yeah….just as he expected. 

Sighing, he walks over to the bed, sitting on the side. “Solana.”

“No.....” she’s crying in her sleep, clearly in the midst of a nightmare. Or night terror. “Mom, please…don’t leave me.”

Roman tenses. Immediately, he knows exactly what her nightmare is. He brings hands to her shoulder, shaking her. “Solana, wake up.”

“No…..”

He says her name again, a bit louder, firmer, “Solana, wake up.”

“No!” She screams again, shooting up from the bed, immediately fighting and pushing against his body. “Leave me alone!” She’s crying, clearly fighting against the demons one faces once in life but forever battles, even when they’re gone. 

It’s a permanent scar on the soul.

“Solana,” he says again, still stern, but somehow gentle. “You’re fine. You’re safe.” It’s the ‘safe’ word that seems to trigger something for her, mouth still ajar, painting heavily but no longer struggling against him. “It was just a bad dream.”

There’s a fleeting thought he has about pushing some of the flyaway hairs out of her face, but it’s gone before he can really process let alone act on said thought.

Solana looks at his hands on her forearm and immediately tugs them back to her body, hugging herself. She drops her head, eyes closing, “I’m—I’m sorry.”

His eyes take her in, studying her, “it’s fine.”

“I—I need some air.” She kicks the blankets off her body and swings her legs over the bed, hurriedly grabbing a notebook off the dresser and rushing out of the room past a smirking Samantha.

Roman shuts his eyes and runs his hand over his face, ignoring the strange array of emotions, or something like that, he’s experiencing.

He hasn’t been this exposed to this kind of behavior in years.

This may be more complicated than he realized. 

And it’s as he stands up from the bed, walking near the door that Samantha smirks. “Did she seriously say mom?”  His eyes snap to her as she runs her hands up and down his chest. “What a fucking child.”

Her words take him back, reframe things so that it’s not Solana the child crying for her mother not to be taken from her. It’s a young boy. Burned, bloody, and beat, fading in and out consciousness, the gaze of fiery flames in his peripheral vision, the smell of burning flesh invading his nostrils, the sound of wails and sirens all mingling together from the shock of it all. 

Roman catches himself, forcing those buried memories back where they belong in the very back of his mind. He then looks at Sam for a good five seconds before demanding, “get the fuck out.”

She pauses and then asks with an uncomfortable laugh, “what?”

“Get the fuck out of my house,” he repeats, shoving her hands off him. 

“What did I sa—”

“Get out!” Roman snaps, volume and tone making her jump. He probably scared her. He also doesn’t care. He just wants her gone. And she does as such, walking away without another word of protest. 

Left alone, he tries to gather himself, moving back to his room.

So much for a fucking distraction.

 —----- 

Roman finds her out back on the patio. 

He needed to clear his head, get back into his tunnel vision focus, and the gym he had included when he built the house is the perfect place to do that. Two hours later, recentered and showered, he readies to call it a night. But, he realizes he probably shouldn’t do as such until he makes sure Solana is at least partially stable enough to be left alone. 

And she is. 

She’s laid out, sleeping on the rattan lounge chair, a closed notebook tucked into her side. Roman recognizes it as the same one she was writing in that day at the library as well as the one she used for her grocery list just earlier in the day. 

He settles down on the chair next to her, studying her. Even in her sleep, she looks….sad. And for the first time in the midst of all these strange experiences with her, Roman understands. He understands her sadness, understands her difficulty, understands the memories that clearly haunt her.

The same way they used to haunt him. 

His hand goes to his tatted arm, intricate tribal tattoo hiding permanent remnants of that night of hell. The night that he once had the same kind of night terrors about. 

Noticing the breeze, he walks back into the house, grabbing one of the throw blankets on the sofa. Roman is careful to not directly touch her as he lays it over her body. A part of him is tempted to carry her back to her room, but he remembers these kinds of nights. The kind where it’s a challenge to escape the memories, let alone find a place and mental space to turn your brain off enough to just sleep.

So he leaves her alone, allowing her to enjoy the only escape she clearly has in this life.

[flemingsfreckles]

Physio’s Daughter Pt. 9

Read the rest of the series here

Warnings: nothing too crazy, probably a curse word or two, some pg13 making out (maybe a little more than pg13, there’s straddling and some grinding involved)

WC: 4.0k

A/N: I think this series will have 1-3 more parts and then it will be over, I’m running out of plot ideas for it, if there’s anything you want to see in the last few chapters send them to me and I’ll see what I can do!

You both look at each other across the hotel room. Neither of you are sure what to say, what to do, now that you’re finally alone. You’re finally in a place you won’t be interrupted by her teammates, other staff, anyone. You watch Jessie take off her medal and the jacket of her tracksuit placing both into the bathroom.

She then moves, sitting down on the end of what you assumed was her bed. A stack of books and a kindle on the nightstand next to the water bottle you’ve come to see her carry everywhere, making it more clear it was hers. She lets out a sigh before starting to take off her shoes. You just watch, not sure what to say or what to do.

Do you make a move? When’s the next time you two will have an empty hotel room, if you want to do anything with her, now was your chance. It would be so easy to gently cup her chin, pull her lips to yours, push her back on the bed and climb on top of her. But your feet remain stuck to the ground, your shoulder pressed to the wall as you lean awkwardly still in the entrance of the room. You weren’t used to being nervous around her, you had been the first few days you were with the team but that wasn’t explicitly because of Jessie. But now being alone with her, the anticipation was getting to you.

Jessie’s shoes fall to the floor with a thud and you’re brought out of your thoughts, you bend down to remove your own shoes, neatly placing them against the wall.

“You know you can come in? You don’t have to stand in the doorway all night.” Jessie’s smiling at you as she looks at where you’re standing.

“Right.” You push yourself off the wall and take two steps in Jessie’s direction. You look over at the desk with the chair, you could sit there, there was also a bench you could sit on, you could sit on Janine’s bed, or you could sit next to Jessie on her bed. Sitting on her bed without her asking felt a little too much like a self invitation, so you made your way to the chair. To get to the chair you had to pass where Jessie was sitting still at the edge of the bed. When you go to walk by her, her hand reaches out for you, she catches the back of your shirt firmly in her hand, causing you to stumble backward a step.

“Where are you going?” When you turn to look at her she’s got a big smile on her face, her eyebrows raised, she looks incredibly confident, less shy than her usual self but you assume that’s what winning a gold medal might do to someone.

“I was,” you point at the chair, “I figured I’d sit.” Unfortunately you didn’t have the additional confidence of winning a gold medal so here you were eyes looking anywhere but at Jessie’s.

“You can sit here.” Her other hand pats the bed next to her. You take a step back as she releases her grip from your shirt and you sit down next to her. You look at her and can’t help but start to smile, you try and fight it, pinching your lips together, you start feeling a blush form on your cheeks. You’re suddenly feeling shy as Jessie looks at you. You lay your back onto her bed, feet still touching the floor and throw your arm over your face to hide your blush from her.

Jessie leans back, her hand coming to grasp your forearm as she tries to pull it from your face. “Do I make you nervous?” Her voice is quiet and husky, as if she’s trying to seduce you, it was definitely working whether she meant for it to or not.

You roll your eyes and turn your face away from her “No.” She didn’t really make you nervous, she just gave you butterflies, she made your heart race, she made your palms sweaty.

“Liar.” She teased.

“No.” You tried to argue.

“Why are your cheeks red?”

“They’re not!” They were, you could feel them burning, you knew your whole face was probably red, not just your cheeks.

“Maybe it’s just sunburn from the night game, whatever you want to tell yourself.” She releases the grip on your arm and you cover your face again.

“You don’t make me nervous.” You grumble into your arm. “It’s not bad nervous, it’s, I don’t know.”

You feel Jessie move on the bed, she lays down mirroring your position so she’s next to you. “You used to be nervous. Your first day, when you had to massage my calf you looked terrified. You were so worried about doing the wrong thing, it was cute.” You can tell she’s looking at you. You can feel her breath on the side of your face and on your arm that remains over your eyes and forehead.

You take your arm down, letting it fall next to you, it falls directly on top of Jessie’s arm. She must’ve moved closer to you when you weren’t looking. You turn your head to face her.

“Of course I was nervous! It was my first day and I’m the one thrown to be in charge of you, of all people. Anyone else it would’ve been less nerve wracking but it was you. Obviously I was nervous.” You still look at the ceiling, knowing if you turn over you’ll be face to face with the captain and you’re not sure you’ll be able to refrain from kissing her.

“So I do make you nervous.”

“Not anymore, now I know you. Before you were just someone I had watched on TV, you were Jessie Fleming, you were a professional athlete, you were someone my mom used to make fun of me because I had a silly little crush on you when I was younger, you were an Olympian, and a fucking gold medalist, you were captain of the team, of course you made me nervous.”

“Then what’s different now?” She prodded.

“Now you’re you, you’re Jessie, who sent me a photo of deer because I told you how I used to watch them in my backyard, who brought me coffee on two occasions, who is incredibly clumsy despite being a professional athlete, you’re just Jessie who sat on FaceTime and showed me what she made for dinner, you tell me about the books you’re reading, it’s different. It’s now you, not just the fantasy idea of you.”

“Still have that little crush though.” She elbows you in the ribs.

At this rate your blushing face was going to be permanently red, her teasing still getting to you. “Don’t make fun of me.”

“I’m not,” she insists “if it makes you feel better, I’ve got quite the crush too.”

“So I’ve heard.” You breathe out.

You finally look at her as she rolls over onto her side, propping her head up with her hand. She shifts her body slightly closer so her front is flush to your side. Maneuvering herself more, she moves so that her face is now hovering above yours. You watch as her eyes trail to your lips and back to your eyes, the same way you had done to her and she had done to you the few other times you had kissed.

“Do it.” You whisper to her.

She leans down, her body pressing onto yours ever so slightly. You close your eyes just before her lips meet yours. You one hand is trapped between your bodies but your other comes to hold her waist. Her hand not holding herself up comes to rest on your neck and cheek.

Her lips are soft, just as they had been every other kiss, only they felt more familiar. You had now kissed her four times. Kissing Jessie was easy, the way she’d gently press into you, the feeling of her warm hand on your body. This kiss was more tender than the one she had prompted in the bar earlier, no slip of the tongue, no sloppiness, just a gentle and yet passionate kiss.

She pulled back from your lips after only a couple of seconds, her body remaining pressed into your side. You opened your eyes to the Canadian smiling down at you. Feeling greedy for more you reach up, your hand releasing her waist to find the back of her neck pulling her down into a much more impatient kiss.

You felt Jessie hum into the kiss, a small vibration against your own lips, giving you confirmation she was enjoying this just as much as you were. You parted your lips at the feeling of her tongue against them, her tongue meets yours quickly, in short motions before she’d return her focus to your lips. Wanting to get your other hand on her body you move your hand down to Jessie’s waist, trying to pull her to a position that would free both of your hands. She gets the hint and starts to adjust herself to sit up more, supporting herself on her legs instead of your side. You sit up, trying to follow her movements to keep your lips on hers. When she sits up, she must’ve forgotten the two of you were still sitting on just the edge of the bed, she nearly falls back, breaking your kiss. You reach out to catch her grabbing her by the waist with both hands.

“Whoops.” She giggles, one hand over her chest at the fright she just gave herself.

“Like I said earlier, clumsy.” You smile at her. “You alright?”

“Yeah I’m good.” She smiles at you, before her mouth opens and she lets out a yawn. Her hand quickly covers her mouth.

“Am I that boring of a kisser?” You joked with her, unfortunately Jessie thinks you’re being serious.

“No! No you’re good, I’m not bored, not at all.” She then paused to look down at her her hands in her lap. “Uh so please don’t take this the wrong way, but I want to say something before I lead you on too far.” She pauses, giving you just enough time to panic. She stands up, out and away from your touch and moves to sit against the headboard of the bed, legs out in front of her.

Maybe she wasn’t into you anymore, maybe she didn’t want to talk to you after tonight, maybe she wasn’t interested in you anymore, maybe she didn’t like sneaking around.

“I really, really, like kissing you and where this is going, but I’m just tired, honestly. And, believe me, I’m interested in where this is going, but I don’t know if tonight’s the right time, it’s not that I don’t want to,”

“Don’t worry about it.” You’re quick to reassure her. A tiny part of you had thought maybe you’d sleep together tonight, but you really were just more interested in finally getting to spend some time alone with her, away from work.

“I do have interest, in ya know, doing that, with you, it’s just been a long few weeks and I don’t want it to be some half-assed attempt.” It was cute the way Jessie was shy, dancing around the topic of sleeping with you, not wanting to actually say it. Her cocky attitude was no longer detected.

“Jessie, it’s fine, don’t worry, I’m not expecting anything. I just wanted to hang out.”

“Okay, sorry.” She apologizes.

You stand up from the bed, ready to head back to your room for the night, and let Jessie get the restful sleep she very much deserved. You reach down grabbing your shoes, starting to tie the laces.

“Are you leaving?” She asks from her spot on the bed.

“I thought you wanted to sleep?” You point to the bed, confused why she was questioning you leaving.

“I do, but maybe in a little bit, I was hoping we could maybe make out a little more?” She breaks eye contact as she asks.

“Who’s shy now?” You teased as you watched her cheeks flush as she asked to kiss you again. You kick your half tied shoes off again and make your way back to the bed. You climb on it, sitting in a similar position to Jessie, back against the headboard.

“I’m not shy.” Jessie says, she starts to move, turning toward you. You think she’s going to lean over and kiss you. Only she then moves up to her knees before her hands find your shoulders and she swings one leg over your lap. She lowered herself so she was sitting on the middle of your thighs. Jessie was straddling you. You let your hands find her waist again, holding her just above her hip bones.

She wrapped her arms around your neck pulling you up and toward her as she leaned down bringing her lips to yours. Her tongue is immediately on yours, her hands find their way to the base of your hairline, raking her fingers in and gently scratching and pulling. You manage to swallow down the moan you nearly let out at the feeling. You can’t help but tighten your grip on her, pulling her into you harder. You feel Jessie rock slightly into your lap. You couldn’t believe this was happening, Jessie was in your lap, her hands in your hair, your hands on her waist, trailing down to her thighs.

You feel her quads clench slightly as your hands make their way to rub slowly up and down her thighs. You were amazed at how you could feel her muscles twitch under your touch, her whole body firm, strong, and yet so soft. Each pass your hands creeped up more and more, until on the next pass they were gripping Jessie’s ass. You dug your fingers in slightly, gripping her muscles and pulling her into your lap more.

The two of you continued to kiss, your tongues grazing over each other, making gentle passes at your lips, even knowing this wasn’t leading anywhere you couldn’t help but be incredibly turned on. The way Jessie was making small noises, satisfied hums, little groans when you’d tighten your grip on her ass, the way she was ever so slightly grinding into your lap, you were doing everything in your power not to grind your hips up into hers.

You felt Jessie start to pull back, her kisses slowing down, her tongue retreating before she sucked your bottom lip between her teeth and pulled away from you. You opened your eyes to watch, seeing hers were open as well. She smiled down at you as she pulled back. The gentle tug on your lip mixed with the arousing reality of Jessie in your lap was enough and you weren’t able to muffle the moan that escaped from your throat. Jessie released your lip, letting it pop back.

You clear your throat, unsure of what to say and a little embarrassed about the groan you had let out, turning your head down to look at your lap, instead you end up looking at Jessie’s lap as she’s sitting on top of you. Jessie’s hands remove themselves from your hair and one comes to your chin, tilting your head up to look at her.

“Hi.” Her cocky smile across her face is slightly infuriating, but also so attractive.

“Hi.” You reply back giving her a dazed smile, still feeling like you’re floating from the feeling of Jessie’s hands on your body and her mouth on yours.

Jessie rolls off of you, just sitting next to you for a minute before she stands up and walks across the room, picking up her duffle bag and throwing it onto the bed. She rummages through, you assume looking for a sweatshirt or something. “Do you want more comfortable clothes? I have sweats and stuff.” She looks up from where she was digging in the bag, a pair of blue sweats in her hand.

“I mean I have clothes in my room, I’m alright.” It’s not like your room was far, you could get into your sleeping clothes when you got there.

“Oh.” You watched Jessie’s smile fall from her face momentarily before she spoke up again. “I just thought, never mind.” She shakes you off. “I’m going to change.” You notice the change in her tone of voice, she sounded upset. She grabs a pile of clothes that was neatly folded on the desk and heads to the bathroom.

You’re not sure what you did. You rack your brain, she seemed okay until you rejected her clothes. You just were being polite, it didn’t make sense for you to take her clothes when your room was just a couple doors down. You could just change there. You also didn’t want to keep her up, she had said she was tired, she was ready for bed. You weren’t going to keep her from sleeping any longer. The more time that passes as you sit waiting for Jessie to come out of the bathroom the more nervous you get.

Maybe she wanted you to go, maybe you should leave while she’s in the bathroom. You go to stand up making your way to your shoes for the second time that night when you hear the bathroom door open and Jessie steps out. Her hair is down and she’s wearing a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt.

“Leaving?” The same disappointed tone in her voice.

“Yeah, you can finally get some sleep, sorry for keeping you up.” You eye her up and down from where you were kneeling putting on your shoes. She looked so cozy, you wanted to cuddle up next to her under a blanket, maybe you could sometime. You could cuddle up with her sometime when she wasn’t exhausted and didn’t need to get a full night's rest.

“Goodnight Jessie.” You say as you head to the door. You mentally began to prepare yourself for the bombardment of questions you knew Olivia was going to throw at you. Reaching for the door you reluctantly turn the handle and crack the door.

“I offered you my clothes because I want you to stay.” Jessie’s voice comes from behind you right as the light from the hallway floods into the room.

She wanted you to stay. She wanted you to stay the night, in her room, in her clothes. “Ohhh.” That’s why she had seemed disappointed when you rejected the offer of the sweatpants. You felt like an idiot, you had essentially rejected her offer to spend the night without even realizing it.

“I know I said I was tired and we shouldn’t sleep together tonight, but that doesn’t mean we can’t literally sleep in the same bed together.” She then quickly follows up the offer with a quiet “only if you’re comfortable with that, if not obviously you’re welcome to go.”

You let the door handle fall from your hand and you turn back to Jessie. “Sorry, I didn’t realize that’s what you meant by offering me sweatpants. If I did, I would’ve taken them.”

“Offer still stands.” She tells you, you turn back to the door quickly locking it before heading over to where the sweatpants sat on top of her bag. You grab them and then look up to her.

“Whatever shirt you want is fine, they’re all like t-shirts.” You just grab the first one on top, a light gray neatly rolled shirt. Heading toward the bathroom you notice Jessie following you.

“Hey if you’re trying to see me naked Fleming all you have to do is ask.” You say and she stops walking, looking at you wide eyed.

“No, no I wasn’t,” she lets out a small puff of air. “I was going to show you,” she points into the bathroom and you let her walk in first. She walks over to the sink, pulling out a still packaged toothbrush. “If you want you can just use this so you don’t have to get yours, and then feel free to use anything else, I have face wash, lotion, regular bathroom stuff.”

You take the toothbrush from her hand and she turns to leave, closing the door behind her to leave you to your privacy. You strip from your clothes debating for a moment if you should leave the bra you had on, would it be weird to take it off, it was a bralette and comfortable enough to sleep in, you weren’t sure. You pull the bra off, deciding against wearing it. You slip Jessie’s shirt over your head, being engulfed with the smell of her, you couldn’t quite place the smell, but it smelled like her and it made your stomach flutter. Following the shirt you put on her sweats. On the counter was her toothpaste.

Next to the toothpaste was her medal. You couldn’t help but smile at the fact that most people would kill to have an Olympic gold medal and here was hers, on the bathroom counter next to a tube of toothpaste and a bottle of Advil, as if it was just another thing that belonged in her bathroom.

Seeing her medal just sit there strikes an idea in your mind. You grab your discarded jeans, dig your phone out of your pocket and text Olivia.

You: I need a favor, tomorrow.

You put your phone back, not expecting her to text you back today. After brushing your teeth, you use the toilet, and open the door. The lights were already out in the room but Jessie had turned on the lamp on her bedside. You turn the corner to see Jessie already tucked up in bed. She was off to the right side of the bed, the side she had sat on originally before she sat in your lap. You feel a flush of heat run through your body at the memory of her straddling your lap.

You pull back the covers and climb into the bed next to Jessie. It wasn’t a very big bed, maybe a full size, comfortable enough for one person, small for two. You think maybe that’s the point, the Olympic committee discouraging this behavior.

You remained on your back, you usually slept on your back anyway but you were more laying in fear of moving, not wanting to disturb Jessie. Feeling the mattress shift Jessie reaches over and turns the light off before rolling over to lay on her side facing you. You can barely make out her features in the darkness. You feel her arm fall across your waist, her hand gently gripping your side. Her head comes to rest on your shoulder. She slowly lets her body weight onto you, relaxing into your body.

“Is this okay?” She whispers up at you.

“Yeah, it is.” You adjust slightly, moving so that her head came to rest more on your chest and your arm wrapped around her back, holding her tight to you. You look down at her, she puckers her lips and you lean down planting a soft goodnight kiss on her. “Goodnight Jessie.”

“Goodnight.”

You weren’t sure what this meant, what any of it meant, but you didn’t really care. The team had won gold, you and Jessie were on good terms, you were in her bed, her head on your chest, her arm across your waist. You fell asleep to the sound of her breathing and she fell asleep to the sound of your heart, it was probably racing but you didn’t care. This was all you had hoped for going into this trip, all you had hoped for and more.

[sanvcnblvd]

[pañuelo melody] by acastle

[pañuelo melody] by acastle

There are aspects about this story that really hit home for me. (Forgive me, I'm dumping a lot of feelings without proofreading–I'm probably rambling).

There is a running theme of hidden connections and destiny that acastle wrote in their fic. It may just be headcanon, but afaik Casey has mentioned that Alex and Henry are destined to be together in any universe, this fic really drives that idea home.

Mild spoilers below, but acastle referenced Utada Hikaru in their story multiple times, and I grew up listening to them (HUGE Kingdom Hearts fan here). The feeling I had when acastle referenced one of their songs–through the opening lyrics that I recognized (First Love by Utada Hikaru) , I literally went "nooooooo wayyyyyyyy.......???!!!!"

And then acastle referenced Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence by Ryuichi Sakamoto (amazing piano instrumental written for the movie of the same name). Utada also wrote a song and sampled Merry Christmas, Mr. Lawrence (also same title). I wish I could truly describe when all the pieces connected together, it was like greeting an old friend. It was also like getting hit by a truck. It was all very overwhelming (I may or may not have started tearing up writing this portion.)

This story takes place in winter in Japan, and it's chilly, and icy, and the angst is dialled up to eleven, but like with all of acastle's stories, there is so much love.

The main inspiration for this cover is Japanese artist Ikenaga Yasunari (examples below). I wanted to replicate the vibe, but I opted for more colour. I was also inspired by traditional Japanese paintings, especially with how soft and delicate snow is often painted.

I chose the promotional image of Alex and Henry in the V&A as the pose. I had initially planned to have Alex and Henry walking in the Higashiyama Ward at night (location described in the fic) , illuminated by streetlights and joined by the red string of fate, but it didn't materialize.

The Japanese in the front translates literally to "Handkerchief melody – hankachi and 旋律 (Kanji for melody/tune). Handkerchief from pañuelo (the Spanish meaning, not Filipino ) references the one that Alex uses to wipe his mouth as a child before giving his relatives a kiss on the cheek. It is also the title of the song Alex writes and releases before running away to Japan.

The characters in the corner is 禁色 is from the novel that Henry read that inspired his work trip to Japan. Context is in the story. It's very poignant and melancholic.

Thank you so much to Louie (@hrhprinceacd on Twitter) for helping me with the Japanese title, and for @ash-morrison for blind-choosing this cover to release from my vault.

Just adding that the gingko branch background is from an adobe stock photo that I didn't really want to pay for so I designed my own version from scratch (original reference below).

The full poster that can be added to the .epub file for your kindle/e-book reader is at the end of the post! If you need any assistance, please don't be afraid to ask!

[artificial-transmutations]

Novel News

Hey guys! A while back, I announced that I have released my novel, Dam Breakers.

Today, I have not one, but two pieces of moderately sized news for you (and a bonus)!

The promised discount

I did promise you a special thank you deal as a thank you for your continued support, and here it is!

Next weekend, between October 25th and 27th, there will be a -75% discount,

dropping the price to just 0,99$ for the ebook (the lowest Amazon would allow). As a caveat, due to limitations on Amazon, it's only available on the amazon.com marketplace.

I would be immensely happy if you could leave a rating and review if you liked it, because that helps me *a lot*.

As a side note, there is also a free short story at http://free-story.mikestruan.com that takes place in the universe of my next novel series. There's no transformation or romance in this short story, though there will be in the next novel series.

Paperback!

Also, if you like the feeling of paper in your hands, starting now, Dam Breakers is also available as paperback (in all international market places)!

So, be sure to check it out and claim your ebook discount this weekend!

Bonus

The picture above is inspired by one of the book characters. If you recognize the character and the part of the story I have tried to recreate with the AI, hit me up in a DM. I will raffle out a few juicy transformation short stories or captions to everyone who gets it right!

[elumish]

My Experience With Digital-First Royalty-Only Publishing (Part 2)

Disclaimer: just my experience, may not reflect other people's

Part 1 (What is this sort of publishing; how did I get published; what does the submission, contract, and editing process look like)

Book Release:

My [redacted] book came out in April 2024. It is available on Amazon, Barnes & Noble, and the publisher's own website, where it is listed for a couple dollars less than on Amazon/B&N. It's available both digitally (in multiple different file formats) and for print (paperback).

I can't speak for whether this is standard across these sorts of publishers, but it probably isn't unusual. This does mean that the book can't be available on Kindle Unlimited, given how Kindle Unlimited's requirements work.

The timing for this sort of publishing is extremely fast compared to traditional or even small-press print publishing. I signed the contract in late August 2023 and sent in the final draft to my editor in late October 2023, and the book was released in late April 2024.

Book cover:

For designing my book cover, they pointed me towards where they pull stock images from and asked me to describe the sort of cover I would want, including possible stock images. They also asked for physical characteristics of my characters, which is when I realized that I had no clue what my characters look like.

The stock image website included AI art, as well as regular non-AI stock images. I specifically requested no AI art, including no AI-generated stock images. As far as I am aware, they respected that request.

Once they created one, they sent me a mock-up and asked about minor changes (typography, etc., from what I remember). I didn't have any changes. Overall, my cover looks like what I described to them, and I'm really happy with it.

Marketing:

My marketing experience with my publisher has been decidedly underwhelming. They seem to have started to revamp their marketing process right around when my book came out, so my book didn't receive/hasn't received a huge amount of marketing support from them.

What they gave me marketing-wise: a few marketing images for pre-release/post-release, including Twitter and FB header images, etc.; general marketing guidance for what I could/should be doing; a couple of mentions on their publisher Instagram post-release and a mention in their weekly newsletter

What they didn't give me marketing-wise: connection to reviewers, including sending an ARC or providing a list of reviewers that might be good to work with; marketing materials for sites like TikTok or Instragram; a meaningful amount of airtime/mention on their accounts; a large following of their own

Overall, the marketing is what is probably most like self-publishing--a huge amount of it is on me (and I am terrible at it). It will be interesting to see what their revamp brings, but they are starting from a minimal following and not a lot of previous activity on their accounts, and so they also need to build their reach to make their marketing on their accounts more effective.

Royalties/payment:

I get paid on a monthly basis through PayPal. I also receive a royalty statement that lists days, amount/type sold, etc. so I can reconcile with what they have paid me. From what I have seen this royalty statement is pretty standard.

So far, they've been prompt and haven't had issues with payments.

However, because of (among other things) their general lack of marketing, my royalty statements have been fairly low. So far (and, granted, the book came out less than 2 months ago) I have made very little money on this.

My Path Forward:

I've thought a lot about whether I will continue to do this sort of publishing. I am currently querying my "main" books, and I don't plan to publish them through this sort of publishing, even if the publisher would likely accept them.

My contract stipulates that my publisher has right of first refusal for the rest of the books in this series. I am currently writing book two, and I plan to also write a third, as I had initially discussed with them. Beyond that, I'm not sure. I don't mind working with them as a company, but I don't know if they have the processes in place for me to make money publishing with them.

One thing I will likely do is explore other romance publishers that accept unagented submissions. They have a much lower barrier of entry and they are often willing to accept books that trad publishers might not want to spend money/reputational risk on.

As such, I would likely submit to these publishers stories that I don't think traditional publishers/agents would likely to be willing to publish, including more niche subgenres and less standard lengths that are easier to publish digitally.

Why do I redact the name of my book?

Honestly because I'm a coward and because people are weird about romance, especially certain subgenres of romance. I also plan to use this account for my main agented publishing, if I ever reach that point, and I don't necessarily want those two pen names associated.

Any other questions about this sort of publishing?

[comicaurora]

Just a quick question as someone who is well-meaning but just a little confused about the kindle thing:

is it just the filesize of the pages that's the problem w/ downloading? I'm not sure what the difference between dl-ing up front or while reading would be from a hosting perspective. (unless ppl are actually wanting every page at once instead of like a few chapters' worth)

Sorry if all this is annoying, I'm just trying to better understand the problem. I don't mean to bother, so if it's not something you want to talk abt, then that's completely fair.

I guess the thing I keep snagging on is that it's not at all what I intended for the comic and it's not what the site is optimized for. My site follows an extremely normal webcomic format, the tumblr mirror has multiple pages in each post if people need improved loadtimes, and I'm getting kind of thrown that people are suddenly asking for it to be in a completely different offline format? A webcomic has "web" right in the name. It doesn't work that way, it hasn't worked that way the entire time the comic has existed, and frankly, while the intent was definitely not malicious, being asked "hey I'm having a lot of trouble pirating your work, you should make it easier for me" feels Weird And Bad for reasons I would assume are self-evident.

From my side of things, I'm hoping to get Aurora physically published in the future, and physical publication these days usually also goes hand in hand with an ebook release. Publishers already need convincing why they should physically publish something that exists for free online. If I jerry-rigged a downloadable ebook version myself, why would a publisher go to the effort to do it for me? It'd be like self-publishing the book first and then asking them to pay to do it all over again. I would very much like to not fuck up the publishing thing and that means I'm not touching anything a publisher would want to do.

Aurora is entirely free. It has no affiliated patreon, and after a brief run and some laughably poor policy management from google's ad plugin, the site no longer has any ads. I'm not saying this to guilt anyone - just to contextualize why, after finally completing the work of four and a half years of my life that I shared 100% freely with the world for the sheer love of creation and the profound joy it gave me to see people fall in love with this story I care so deeply about, why it sucks that people immediately, not even 24 hours after the final page of arc 1 goes up, start complaining that it doesn't exist in a nice little bundle on all platforms on and offline.

I promise it's not a big deal, but it's not a pleasant experience either.

[acesandwords]

Offline Library

In light of all the Ao3 issues lately I'm gonna throw this up as something people should consider doing. Make your own library of your favorite fics and any you might like to read in the future/are currently reading.

How do you do this? To start: Calibre & ReadEra app

Calibre is a free ebook management software, available on windows, mac, and linux - but also comes in a portable version you can put on a flash drive. Ebooks are very small files, 100s of fics can easily take less than 1GB of space. You can create categories for everything and all the tags on the fics will stay attached to them. You can download directly through ao3, or you can use the browser extension Ficlab which can make the process a little quicker, plus give you a book cover(or you can add your own cover). Epub or Mobi format is best.

ReadEra, is a free reading app with no ads that you can tell to only access a single file where you keep your ebooks. It's open source and the Privacy Statement and Terms & Conditions are very short and easy to read. You can transfer files from Calibre to your phone, but this is also a good option if you don't have a PC to use Calibre. You can make folders to organize all your fics.

Quality of life plugins for Calibre: Preferences > Plugins > Get New Plugins

Look up: EpubMerge, EpubSplit, FanFicFare, Generate Cover (restart calibre once you've added them all) Fun fact, with FanFicFare, you can download new chapters to update fics that are currently in progress directly in Calibre instead of having to open up ao3.

Also, to be clear - back them up for yourself only, don't you fucking dare repost them anywhere.

You can also backup Kindle books (and you should) with Calibre, though that's a bit more complicated; instructions under the read more

Firstly what is DRM? TLDR: digital rights management (DRM) is meant to prevent piracy, however, this also means you never really own your ebooks. If Amazon decides to take down a book you bought? That's it, it's gone and it doesn't matter that you paid for it.

Removing DRM If you're on PC and don't have a kindle device, you'll want kindle version 2.4.0 or it won't work in Calibre.

In Calibre, navigate to Preferences > Plugins > Load Plugin From File - DeDRM - Use the latest Beta or Alpha release, follow instructions on the github page

Preferences > Plugins > Get New Plugins

Look up: KFX Input

You'll have to restart Calibre once you install so just add them all at once before you restart it.

If you need some troubleshooting help setting anything up just ask and I'll try to help!

[marriedtosuku]

Until I actually post something, Gojo is the type of boyfriend to gnaw on your cheeks while you both are lounging around on the couch or in bed.

You’re smushed in between Gojo and your mattress while you scroll on your kindle at the newly released erotica you been anticipating for weeks. Your nose buried into the digital e-book, much to the dismay of your long term boyfriend, Satrou. He twiddles with the fallen strains slip from underneath your silk scarf, tickling your face with it ever so often, but he was yearning for you to actually pay attention to him since your focus has been on this novel going on 45 mins. Gojo slender fingers made their way to grope your clothed breast, using it almost like a stress ball, and began gnawing on your chubby cheeks.

You allowed it to go on for a few more minutes until you felt his tongue on your cheek.

“ sato’ whatcha doin?”

He mumbled something while still latched to your cheek looking like a blue-eyes blow fish.

You sighed but left your clingy boyfriend alone.

Ehhhh…. just imagine