#well I guess twice but I sent the story to two publishers and one picked it up so

[kahnah23]

Complaining about getting published is stupid and I shouldn't, but it feels like standing still right now.

One of my stories was supposed to be published this week. Got a message one day before that date that there will be a delay and I will get more information during this week, which okay. I can wait, I guess.

It's Saturday, no message yet. I mean, the book will be published. Everything is done as far as I know, just some delay during printing.

Other story was picked up by a publisher I really like. I kinda wanna be on good terms with them because I could see them publish one of my bigger stories. Though I haven't received any details about my contract or anything. That book is supposed to come out around Halloween, so there's still time, and the publishers have a lot of work right now. They are preparing the book fair, new website and stuff. Just gotta be patient.

Yesterday was the deadline of a writing contest, no results yet. Of course not. They have to work through the entries, and I'm not confident in that story, so I guess that's why I'm nervous.

I've been powering through my regular work and writing for 6 months now. Kinda just wanna have some results. Just wanna put the books on the shelf and tell myself "hey, look at that"

[dumdumsun]

Of Starlight

A/N: Alright, this entire story has officially been written ❤️

Warnings: none that I’m aware of

Word Count: 3067

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Chapter 5: Extra Ordinary

Five years ago, Vanya Hargreeves began writing her autobiography, “Extra Ordinary: My Life as Number Seven”, less than two weeks before her sister’s novel, “One-Sided”, was announced in the papers. Those around who enjoyed her writing were buzzing with excitement, for it was the second book of her trilogy. (Y/N) was thrilled, herself, to be publishing her novel within the next month. Finally sharing her work with the world would have taken a tremendous weight off her shoulders, leaving her with only the weight on her bladder. While working herself nearly to death with her writing, she was with child for the second time, which added to her stress. Thankfully, she had a very supportive husband at the time to assist in anything she requested. It was in those times in which (Y/N) was grateful she decided to make something of herself rather than letting her past as Number Eight define her.

Once “One-Sided” was published, (Y/N) sent two copies out; one to Allison, one to Vanya. She figured her brothers wouldn’t want to read her romantic fantasy as much as her sisters, so she didn’t bother asking. Allison seemed ecstatic for the new addition, but she wasn’t too sure about Vanya, supposing it wouldn’t hurt to send it. If she didn’t want to read it, that was her decision. What she didn’t expect, however, was Vanya’s novel sent to her. After Jada was born, (Y/N) had taken time to read her sister’s autobiography. While Anthony was at work during the day, she’d multitask by reading and taking care of her newborn. She would quietly gasp at certain parts of the book before checking to make sure she hadn’t woken her daughter up. (Y/N) couldn’t believe some of the things her sister dared to put in that book. Some things she wrote were blatantly about (Y/N)’s own insecurities that she had trusted Vanya with knowing. Insecurities about her powers, her capability of being a suitable member of the Umbrella Academy. Vanya had compared it to her own doubts, stating that (Y/N) had no right to complain to her, of all people. Looking back now, (Y/N) could admit that it was a bit selfish to do that to her sister. Regardless, those had been personal and it was unloyal of Vanya to share that with anyone willing to read. Despite this, (Y/N) saw to promote “Extra Ordinary” along with her own work. Someone had to be the bigger person in this situation.

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Nostalgia wasn’t exactly what (Y/N) was overcome with when awaking in her childhood bed. In fact, she’d much rather have opened her eyes to the empty side of her king-sized mattress at home instead. She debated closing her eyes and pretending she had never drifted into consciousness, but sat up when remembering everything Five had told her the day before. If she remembered correctly, there were six remaining days leading up to the end of the world. She had promised Five to assist in preventing the apocalypse, and her drowsiness was not going to hold her back. So, she dragged herself out of bed and began looking for Five. She figured the first place to begin was his bedroom, so she stopped in front of his door and knocked. Hearing rustling on the other side, she asked, “Five, are you decent?”

“Decent enough. You can come in,” He called out, the door opening and (Y/N) stepping inside. He glanced at her over his shoulder as he fixed his white button up. “I take it you had a difficult time sleeping?”

“What makes you say that?” Her hand slid down her face, sarcasm in her tone. She didn’t need a mirror to know she had bags under her eyes. Five chuckled and moved to his vest and jacket, finishing with dressing himself. As he zipped his duffle bag closed, he glanced out the window.

“You tagging along today?”

“I plan to. I… suppose I have nothing to do.”

“Nothing, huh?” Suspicion hid amongst his words as he picked up his bag. “What is it you decided to do with your life, (Y/N)?” The question was simple, genuine, but the weight of it was suffocating. She really couldn’t go back to her normal, beautiful life after all.

“I… found my mother,” She slowly started out, carefully watching as Five curiously glanced up at her under his dark brows. “I became an author… and a mother.”

Suddenly, Five couldn’t breathe. He had anticipated this conversation, prepared himself for everything (Y/N) had accomplished while he was gone. But nothing could have prepared him for the stab in the heart at the mention of her having children. Children with someone who wasn’t him. It was stupidly selfish, he knew, to expect her to wait for him, to do anything else with her life except for the things he longed to do with her. Past the pain, however, he was happy for her. Something in him knew that (Y/N) would one day make a wonderful mother. She was patient, selfless, caring, and oh, how he wished he could’ve been the one. He didn’t even want to ask about the individual she had trusted enough to raise children with her.

His hesitancy to respond worried (Y/N) and suddenly she wanted to apologize. But for what? Her success, her marriage, her children? She had every right to those and she shouldn’t have to apologize. Her concern washed away when Five raised his brows in acknowledgement, opening the window. “Really? A mother? That’s great, Starlight…” God, that nickname… She thought. Why does everything feel so complicated now? Her feet moved her to follow him out of the window and down the fire escape. She thought it was best to not continue the conversation for now.

“Dammit, where’s Dad’s stuff?” The two heard an irritated groan on their way down. (Y/N) craned her neck to see Klaus digging through the dumpster. “Shut up! I’m trying to find whatever… priceless crap was in that priceless box so that Pogo will get off my ass!”

“I’d ask what you’re up to, Klaus, but then it occurred to me…,” Five turned to his brother. “I don’t care.” His useless comment earned an eye roll from (Y/N). Klaus glanced up at the two with a small laugh.

“Hey! You know there are easier ways out of the house, buddy? And bringing little (Y/N) along, too? Whatever could you two be up to?”

“This way of leaving involved the least amount of talking,” Five hopped off the ladder, helping (Y/N) down afterwards. “Or so I thought.”

“Klaus,” The eighth Hargreeves made her way closer to the dumpster. “Is Ben there?”

“Yes, dear, he says hi.” His hand waved in Ben’s supposed direction, (Y/N) softly smiling at her ghost brother. “So, hey, you two need any more company today? I could, uh… clear my schedule.” His eyes shifted to Five as he took a drink from his flask.

“Looks like you’ve got your hands full.” The boy falsely smiled.

“Oh, this? No, no. I can do this whenever. I’m just- I just misplaced something. That’s all.” He then fell into the trash as (Y/N) joined her traveling companion at his side. After a few seconds, Klaus reappeared with a bagel. “Oh! Found it! Thank god!” (Y/N) nearly gagged as he began to chew on it, muffling a ‘delicious’ in forced content.

“I’m done funding your drug habit.” Five spit out before walking away. She followed him and waved at Klaus, barely listening to him yelling after them as they climbed into a plumbing van.

“Why are we stealing a van?”

“Shush.”

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Once again, the two teenagers found themselves in front of Meritech Prosthetics. (Y/N) watched as Lance entered the building before sighing. “We’re really gonna sit here and spy on the man?”

“You got a better idea?” Five only kept his stare on him.

“I guess not… What’s the bag for, then?”

Five immediately turned his attention to the duffle bag he brought with them. “Oh, shit,” He muttered before unzipping it. “Hey,” He softly greeted before handing a bottle of alcohol to (Y/N). She blinked once, twice, thrice when he brought out the top half of a bald mannequin and set it between them. “Sorry you were in there for so long, Delores.”

“Wait,” (Y/N) choked. “That’s Delores?! The one you were with for over thirty years?!”

“Well, obviously,” Five frowned before turning back to ‘Delores’. “This is (Y/N), Delores. You know… the one I told you about.”

“You… talk about me to the mannequin? Should I be flattered or weirded out?”

“Oh, be quiet,” Five sighed and turned away. (Y/N) suddenly felt silly for being jealous last night. “No, I’m not drunk.”

“What?” (Y/N) frowned at the boy, who shook his head.

“Talking to Delores. She thinks I’m- Yes, it’s about the eye thing. This is the place it was made. Or… will be made,” His eyes moved up to his human friend. “We just have to wait…”

He’s actually talking to the mannequin, (Y/N) thought as she turned forward, eyes wide. So, that was what the apocalypse had done to him. She felt bad for him now. Initially, her heart warmed at the thought of Five finding someone to love, but knowing that his mind had gone somewhere far away enough for him to turn to a mannequin for comfort…

“So, (Y/N),” He started, his gaze once again trained on the building before them. “Your children… tell me about them.” Truth be told, Five wanted to know how much they had gotten from their mother. Were they just as humorous? Just as passionate? As wonderful? (Y/N) let out a heartfelt laugh as she closed her eyes.

“Where do I even begin? Michael, he’s… so intelligent. He has the highest reading level in his class and they’re thinking of letting him skip the first grade. He’s such a big help at home with his little sister… I swear, he’s a little man. He’s always trying to test my knowledge. Tries to get me to solve his ‘really hard’ math homework problems…,” She chuckled, Five looking at her with an unreadable expression. “And Jada… she’s such a character. No matter how many times I teach her the days of the week, she always gets them wrong… She wakes me up every morning, trying to guess. I say ‘Jada, if yesterday was Wednesday, what is today?’ and she just starts listing off every wrong answer… She’s a performer, too. I enrolled her into dance classes. Oh, it’s her favorite thing to do… And I’ll admit, she’s good at it. Don’t know where she got that from. Definitely not from me or her dad...”

Five tilted his head thoughtfully. “They sound… just like you. They think they know everything,” He joked with a small smile, (Y/N) playfully glaring at him. “Really, though… They sound like great kids… I’d like to meet them one day.”

“Yeah,” She smiled down at her lap. “I’d love for them to meet you… But I need to be an actual adult before I can face them again. Until then… It’s just checking up every once and awhile…”

“(Y/N), I’m so sorry,” Five frowned as he sat forward. “I- I’m going to figure this out. I promise.”

“I know you will,” She breathed and closed her eyes, her world slowly crashing down on her yet again. “Sorry, I need some air.” And with that, Five was in the car alone. Well, save for Delores. Outside, (Y/N) didn’t have much time to really be with her own thoughts before she heard Luther and Klaus’s voices nearing her. Turning to her right, she spotted the two walking side-by-side towards the van. Upon seeing her, Luther raised a hand.

“(Y/N), you need to get back to the Academy. We found something… and Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death.” He gruffly explained, the young girl straightening to attention.

“Wait, what-”

“I can explain at the house, but we need both you and Five there for the family meeting. Is he in there?” He pointed to the vehicle their brother sat in.

“Yeah, but-”

“Great. Be right back.” Luther’s massive body brushed past her to get to Five, Klaus following behind to get in the back. Not waiting a second longer, she followed her junkie brother inside. When she entered the van again, Luther was trying his hardest to fit his body into the passenger seat as Klaus grabbed Delores, smirking at (Y/N) as he began to dance with the mannequin. She only watched him in disinterest. Once Luther was finally in, he turned to Five. “You okay?”

“You shouldn’t be… How did you find me?” Five’s question was answered when Luther turned to Klaus. With everyone’s attention on him, he looked up from Delores and dropped his smile.

“Hey, a little privacy, guys. We’re really hitting it off back here.” He began to caress Delores’s cheek before screaming when Five threw an object at him, Klaus using the mannequin to block. (Y/N) shook her head and moved closer to Five and Luther, the former fuming.

“Get out! You can’t be here! I’m in the middle of something.”

“Oh, but (Y/N) can be here?”

“Yes! We’re in the middle of something!” Five turned forward as Klaus joined (Y/N) at her side, poking her cheek gently.

“Any luck with your one-eyed man?” He asked her, receiving a head shake. Five sighed and turned to Luther.

“What do you want, Luther?”

Turning his attention away from the conversation between the two, Luther answered Five, “Um… So, Grace might’ve had something to do with Dad’s death. So I need you to come back to the Academy, alright? It’s important.” His request was met with silence for a split second before the time traveller shook his head.

“‘It’s important’. You have no concept of what’s important-”

“Hey!” Klaus interrupted, holding his sister at his side. “Did I ever tell you guys about the time I waxed my ass with chocolate pudding?”

And that was when (Y/N) tuned out the entire conversation between her family. She left Klaus’s side and pressed her back against the back of Luther’s seat, closing her eyes. She knew Five wasn’t going with Luther and Klaus to the house, and she didn’t need to listen to the bickering that would’ve led to that outcome. Her attention was eventually brought to Klaus swinging the back door open, huffing as he got out. She watched him slam the door closed and make his way towards the store across the street. Not trusting him in the slightest, she sent a clone after Klaus, telling it to “watch over him”. At this point, she was waiting for Luther to leave so her growing headache would subside, but it seemed the man wanted to talk some more.

“What the hell are you up to, Five?”

“Believe me, you wouldn’t understand.”

“Try me. Last I checked, I’m still the leader of this family.”

“Well, last I checked, I’m twenty-eight years older than you.” Five tightly smiled before (Y/N) snorted with laughter. The boy rolled his eyes and smiled fondly at her before Luther pulled his attention away.

“You know what your problem is?”

“Really hoping you’ll tell me.”

“You think you’re better than us,” Luther’s words wiped that sarcastic smile right off Five’s face. “You always have. Even when we were kids. But the truth is, you’re just as messed up as the rest of us. We’re all you have… and you know it.” Luther stared at his brother, as the boy slowly inhaled.

“I don’t think that I’m better than you, Number One. I know I am,” He hissed, Luther only chuckling. “I’ve done unimaginable things, things you couldn’t even comprehend.”

“Right...”

“Just to get back here and save you all…” Five stared out the window. (Y/N) sighed and grabbed Delores.

“Luther, out.” She ordered, her “big” brother turning to her with an offended look. “Five’s clearly not going with us. No use arguing with him either. So, just go and I’ll catch up-” She was cut off by the sound of a voice whooping in excitement. The three looked across the street to see Klaus running out of the store, arms full of stolen snacks, the clone following close behind.

“Hey, bitches!” He shouted as a cop chased after them, blowing his whistle. The clone turned to the officer and pushed him away with great force as Klaus was nearly hit by a car. Five’s head followed Klaus’s movement.

“I’m starting to wonder if that was the wisest decision…”

After Luther was sent out of the van, (Y/N) took over the passenger seat once again and set Delores down between them, Five quietly thanking her. “So… I’m going with the guys.”

“What? Why are you wasting your time, I thought you wanted to help me?”

“I do, and I will… But I don’t trust Luther to make decisions right now… I mean, if Mom really did have something to do with Dad’s death… Who knows what he’ll do? The least I can do is try to talk him out of it. I promise, when I’m done, I’ll come and find you.” She softly smiled, gently patting his hand. Five shook his head at her.

“You don’t have to promise me anything… I’m the one who owes you.”

“All you owe me is this,” She gently squeezed his hand. “You being here… That’s what I’ve wanted for so long. Now I have it. So, your debt is paid.” She chuckled. Five rested the back of his head against the seat as his eyes searched her face, trying to find anything that should worry him about her. But all he found was her warm smile and eyes that shone with affection. It suddenly felt inappropriate to have Delores around right now.

“Well, then, you should get going… You’ve gotta catch up with those idiots.”

“Alright. Don’t be out here forever, okay?” (Y/N) leaned in and pecked his cheek before getting out of the car and rushing after her brothers. As he watched her speed away, he tried to regulate his breathing, heartbeat increasing.

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Taglist: @melinda-hargreeves @43sparrows @sapphicsyn @m00n-sh @starcurrent @alexander-hamilhoe @youcandalekmyballs @wonderlandfandomkingdom @yrdadjstcallsmekatya

[novelconcepts]

Jamie & Dani short prompt- Online Dating au meeting online and being from bad past relationship. Thank u

This is probably a bad idea. It is, isn’t it? Almost certainly.

Why is she here?

Dani Clayton has been playing this particular set of thoughts--bad idea, terrible idea, why would you do this?--on repeat for three days. Ever since setting up that dating profile. Ever since realizing there isn’t much use in setting up a dating profile if you’re not going to use it. 

Oh, it’s all fun and games, building the thing. Find a photo that accentuates all the best parts of your face--Dani, after an hour of careful consideration, wound up going with one that accentuated her hair, more than anything, but she suspects the same idea counts. Then, the profile. What do you like? Teaching, long walks, new experiences, bad coffee. What don’t you like? 

Men, she’d thought, and snorted aloud into her wine before settling on: Deep water, accordion music, expectations, being called Danielle. 

A little more flourish, tipsy keystrokes, a casually-framed short-version of her life. Perfect. And then...well, then you hit the publish button, don’t you? You decide, for better or worse, to jump off this diving board and see just how far you can stand to swim before the energy gives out on you.

The faces appearing before her hadn’t been bad, certainly. Pretty, most of them. Interesting, a few. Still, she hadn’t swiped right on any--once or twice, because she’d forgotten which way meant yes please, but mostly because no one seemed quite...right. Which, she’d thought, was silly. The whole point of an app like this is to cast as many nets as possible and see what comes up. The whole point is to have fun. 

But every time she’d hovered over a promising image, a woman who likes dogs, or plays the violin, or goes rock-climbing in her spare time, she’d thought of him. Eddie. Who had taken one yes to a single date, and tried to make a whole life with her out of it. 

Eddie, who had taken her two decades to pull away from. 

What if the women here were the same? Not Eddie, exactly, but--presumptive. What if they believed a swipe-right was as good as a marriage proposal? What if she got bound up in conversation, and then a date, and then a relationship with someone else who just didn’t fit right?

Left. Left. Left. 

And then: the mistake.

She hadn’t meant to swipe right. Exactly. She hadn’t planned, maybe is the better way of putting it, on swiping right. She’d only wanted to look at the woman’s profile a little longer. Only wanted to inspect the facets this woman had put out on display with almost resigned simplicity. 

Some people, Dani had by now realized, wrote poetry and paragraphs to describe themselves. 

Jamie Taylor had bullet points.

“Gardener. English. Likes: Plants. Stories. Tea. Dislikes: Bullshit.”

The end. That had been quite literally the sum of it. Gardener. English. No bullshit.

But the picture, somehow, Dani hadn’t been able to look away from. Not because of carefully-arranged lighting, not because of a curated model-clean image--but because the woman appeared to have posted the photo almost under duress. It came in profile, as though someone else had done the job, her head turned toward the camera as if interrupted. Her hands were buried in a flower pot. Her clothes were simple--a tank top, a silver chain resting against the jut of collarbones, a pair of worn-looking jeans with holes in the knees. Her eyes--some fascinating color Dani couldn’t quite place--looked somewhere between amused and irritated. 

She looked real. 

Stupid, Dani thinks now--because that was probably the idea, wasn’t it? This woman, Jamie, had planned to look exactly this way. Real. Vexed at the idea of putting herself out there. Reluctantly available. 

It was a ploy, certainly--but one that seems to be working, because not only did Dani accidentally-not-accidentally swipe right, she found herself texting the woman. For hours. She’d expected much less, had figured this Jamie person would be as brief in text as she had been in bio, but...

Jamie had talked to her. Willingly. Teasingly, with more humor than truth, maybe, but with no sign at all that she was sick of Dani’s questions, bad jokes, nervous assessment that I really don’t do this, I honestly don’t get it. 

I don’t, either, Jamie had replied, and that had felt like enough of a reason to keep testing the waters. Enough of a reason to keep the conversation going back and forth, back and forth, until nearly two in the morning.

Shit, she’d said. I need to be at work in four hours. 

Shame, Jamie had replied, her tone already searingly familiar over text. Own your own business, make your own hours. Far wiser approach. 

I’ll make a note of it for when I found an elementary school, Dani had replied, laughing. She hadn’t said she’d already been in bed for an hour, the phone resting on the pillow beside her head so she wouldn’t miss the buzz of a new message. It had seemed perfectly reasonable at the time, with wine-warmed blood and the happy haze of good conversation. Jamie made her laugh. Jamie put her at ease. Jamie might not have been real, but she felt real, and that was good. 

Better than anything she’d felt in years, if she was honest with herself. 

Still, when the next day had come and gone with no message, she’d thought, Fair enough. Jamie had been good virtual company for one night. It was more than she’d expected to get out of this app.

Far more than she’d expected, particularly when Thursday night rolled around and her phone buzzed.

Teacher, yeah? No school on Saturday?

Correct, Dani had replied, as amused by the out-of-left-field text as she was irritated with how her stomach had flipped over upon receiving it. You have figured out the complexity of the American school system. 

I am a genius, Jamie sent back, followed quickly by: Drinks tomorrow night? 

Drinks. A thing that people do. A thing that adult people do for date reasons. 

She isn’t real, she’d thought, even as her thumb was punching back: How’s 8? Miller’s?

A mistake. Definitely a mistake. Because the app had been a lark, and the conversation had been too easy, and the fact that she can’t quite pick out the colors in Jamie’s eyes from a single photo is making her crazier than she’d like to admit. 

A mistake, saying yes. A mistake, suggesting the local pub-like establishment around the corner, whose beer-and-burger specials had kept her fed on too many evenings spent working late. A mistake, because once this goes south--as it’s absolutely bound to, as everything Eddie-shaped always has--she’s going to lose her favorite hangout in the deal, too.

And yet: here she is. Standing at the door, wondering if the outfit chosen for the evening festivities--tight jeans, pink blouse, hoop earrings--is too much or not nearly enough. 

What am I doing here?

Maybe, she thinks with mingled alarm and hope, she won’t even have showed up. Maybe it’s all part of the ruse: look approachable, look human and normal, look a little too beautiful in the most grounded way possible--then, cheerfully, invite a woman to drinks and just don’t show. A fun story for whoever comes next. Can you believe she thought I’d want to meet her after one night of texting?

“Dani?” 

English, Dani thinks with a sudden rush of heat. Right. Somehow, she hadn’t quite been prepared for the accent, which--coming out of this woman, draped with languid ease at a table--is truly a little more than Dani thinks she can handle just now. The accent, combined with the mess of curls dragged back from her face, and a dress sense that manages to be both casual and deeply attractive at the same time, is...

“Jamie,” she says, her voice a little lower, a little more hoarse, than is truly necessary. The woman pushes up from her seat, a small-framed figure in a black button-down, suspenders, ripped jeans. She’s pressing a hand toward Dani, offering a firm shake as though they are business partners, not an off-the-cuff bad idea of a date. “You look--”

“Never been here before,” Jamie says, almost apologetically. She gestures for Dani to sit before dropping back down in a sprawl that implies exactly the opposite of what her mouth is insisting. “Wasn’t sure about the, ah, dress code.”

“You--you did fine,” Dani tells her, wishing suddenly she’d gone for a dress. Or a  different human body altogether. She feels too tightly-strung, too anxious for the easy smile on Jamie’s lips. “Um. You’re very. In person.”

“Very,” Jamie repeats, a hint of uncertainty in her voice. “Is very American for wish I’d gone left, after all?”

“No. No. Absolutely not. That.” Bit too forceful, she suspects, judging by the smile spreading into a grin. “No, it’s just--your picture didn’t--tell me you’d be so...”

“Clean?” Jamie suggests innocently. She raises her hands, wiggling her fingers in a small wave. “Scrub up fine, when I need to. Seemed to call for it.”

“And you...sure did answer,” Dani says stupidly. “The. Call, I mean. I’m sorry, I really don’t do this often.”

Something seems to soften in Jamie, her smile less teasing as she leans across the table. “Hey, no worries here. Same person you were talking to the other night.”

Dani nods, embarrassed, and flags down a server. Drinks ordered, she draws in a deep breath.

“I mean, I haven’t done this in years. Or. Ever, I guess.”

“A first date?” Jamie asks. When Dani doesn’t answer, she adds in a knowing tone, “A date with a woman?”

“Both,” Dani says honestly. “My last relationship was--well, I mean, we were engaged--”

Jamie whistles under her breath, reaching up to scratch her head. “Blimey. What happened?”

“He’s...him.” It’s too much to go into on a first date, too much to explain, even though talking to Jamie over text had been so dangerously easy. “My best friend growing up, but that was...growing up.”

Jamie nods thoughtfully, tilting her chin in thanks when the server deposits two full pint glasses and a basket of fries on the table. “Rough time, sounds like. I can relate. My last relationship also did not go well.”

“Was he also a man who thought you’d be all too happy to quit your job and take care of a bunch of babies?” Dani asks, perhaps a little too bitterly for the occasion. Jamie flashes another grin, sipping her drink.

“She was a woman who thought I’d be all too happy to take the fall when she got busted for possession.”

Dani gapes. “Oh. Oh--I didn’t know--I’m so--”

Jamie shrugs. “She wasn’t wrong. I was nineteen, and deeply stupid. Live and learn, as the poets say.”

“Which poets?” Dani asks, smiling a little. Jamie’s brow furrows.

“John...Lennon, possibly? Hard to say. Anyway, relationships are a chore and a half, but the greatest people in the world tell me thirty is too old to play musical bedframes, so. Here we are.”

No bullshit, thinks Dani approvingly. For what little she’d put into her profile, Jamie evidently hadn’t been lying about that.

“You haven’t been in a relationship since you were nineteen?”

“In my mind, I was still in the relationship at twenty-four, when they let me out. She didn’t agree. Found out she’d been married two years, by then.” Something darkens in Jamie’s eyes for a moment. She sighs. “Like I said. Not my finest. But I am, as they say, a shining beacon of reform these days.”

“Now, when you say they,” Dani teases, grinning. Jamie nods decisively. 

“John Lennon. Definitively.”

There it is, thinks Dani, watching Jamie pop a fry into her mouth. There, the easy roll of conversation from the other night. As though they’ve known each other forever. As though two people who have thus far failed irrevocably at relationships make a perfect match.

Easy, she thinks. Don’t go wild, now. 

“So,” she says, when the comfortable silence between them has grown a bit too comfortable for the setting, “who are the greatest people in the world? The ones who tell you thirty is too old for...did you say musical bedframes?”

Jamie laughs. The ring of it curls gently around Dani’s head like a soft hand, a sound she’ll find herself replaying later with a skipping heart. 

“Not many willing to put up with a grump of my caliber, but Hannah and Owen fight the good fight. So long as I at least pretend to try.”

“Let me guess. They set up the account for you?”

Jamie makes a sort of gesture in the air with the hand not holding her glass. “Threatened to bury me in puns and children, respectively, if I kept putting it off. Owen’s still grumpy about the photo choice.”

“I liked it,” Dani says without thinking. Jamie raises an eyebrow.

“Well, you did swipe as much. Mind if I ask why?”

Walked into this one. Still, she doesn’t mind as much as she probably should, not with the genuine curiosity in Jamie’s eyes. “You looked--don’t laugh.”

“No promises,” Jamie says, but with the gentle tone of one who knows exactly how much to tease before it’ll hurt. The idea warms Dani in a way she’s not quite ready to look at yet.

“You looked real,” Dani says. “Like you weren’t going to play games, or waste anyone’s time. Like you just wanted to be happy in peace.”

“That is,” Jamie says, holding out a fry for Dani to take, “sort of the idea, yeah.”

There’s an almost puzzled cast to her smile, like she didn’t entirely expect this answer, and is pleased by it at the same time. That same sense from the photo sweeps over Dani now--that this woman is authentic, even if she’s not always shiny, that she’s kind even if not entirely clean. That she doesn’t have any interest in muddled expectation or living a comfortable lie.

“And me?” Dani asks. She doesn’t entirely mean to--but she’s sure, in asking, that Jamie will answer. Jamie is unlike anyone else she’s ever met, the first person she’s ever known to meet each question head-on. 

“Honestly?”

Dani nods. Jamie seems to consider it, turning it over in her head as she twists a fry between her fingers like a cigarette. 

“All of it.”

“That’s,” Dani begins to laugh, “that’s not--”

“No,” Jamie says, and she isn’t smiling, exactly. Her eyes have a sort of shine Dani likes very much, but there is no hint of teasing in them now. “Really. All of it. You’re...very pretty, and that’s--but the way you described yourself. Like you didn’t care to be anyone in particular. You like new experiences, and bad coffee. You hate being called Danielle. I...I wanted to know why.”

“It’s not my name,” Dani says simply. Jamie gives a brief laugh, her hand moving across the table to lightly brush Dani’s fingertips. 

“I wanted to know why all of it. Why do you like bad coffee--”

“It’s the only kind I know how to make,” Dani says automatically. “Just sort of leaned into it.”

“--and teaching--”

“I want to make a difference,” Dani says. 

“--and where you most like to go on those long walks--”

“Anywhere I can breathe,” Dani says. Her fingers are hesitant, tracing the tips of Jamie’s. There’s something electric about this, about barely touching, about barely knowing someone and still wanting to give them neatly-packaged secrets shaped like the mundane. 

Jamie is smiling. “See, that. I like that. All of it.”

It’s nothing, Dani thinks reflexively. A collection of details. A sparse approximation of a life. Eddie knows all of this, and then some, and never matched up to knowing her.

But this woman, leaning across the table with one hand outstretched, looks so different. Watches her with steady interest. Is listening to every word Dani says, though the bar is growing crowded around them, and soon, conversation will become a task instead of a gift.

“Would you,” Dani says, feeling certain that some mistakes are not as bad as they seem, “like to take one of those walks?”

“Tonight?” 

“Yeah. Tonight.” Emboldened by the smile, by the curl falling into Jamie’s eyes, by the knowledge that she still can’t quite make out what color those eyes are, Dani takes her hand. It’s so easy, she thinks she could do it even without looking. “Right now.”

No bullshit, she thinks. No expectations. Just Jamie looking at her like she can’t quite believe what she’s seeing. Dani can’t blame her. This isn’t at all what she’d thought she was getting, walking in tonight. 

But there’s something about it--something about the feeling that she’s been here before, or should be here forever, or will always find her way back to a woman who looks at her just like this--that almost makes her feel brave. Almost makes her feel wonderful. She rises from the table, laying cash beneath her half-empty glass, and feels a pleasant jolt in her chest when Jamie follows without another word.

If this a mistake, she thinks as they step out into the brisk evening air, it’s one she’s hungry to make. 

[thereisnochillinsideme]

The rain, Akaashi Keiji part two

I'm sorry it's been such a long time I've just had some stuff going on but here it is, part two. I also think @bakudummy asked to be tagged, if you didn't ask me to I'm sorry please tell me I'll take it off anyway enjoy! Akaashi was currently locked in a debate between himself and himself. While one side was telling him that it would be fine if he visited [Name] and Takahashi in normal clothing while the other was telling him that they weren’t close enough and that he was required to wear a three-piece suit. The first side then argued back that they might think he’s rude if he showed up for a cup of hot chocolate in formal wear. In the end, he decided that after picking [Name] and her cake off the street and getting her to Takahashi’s apartment, what he wore probably mattered the least to either of them right now and settled on a cotton T-shirt. He made his way out of his apartment and knocked on the door to his right, which was opened by Takahashi. He hadn’t usually seen her like this. She had changed out of the pencil skirt she so usually wore to work and was currently in a sweater and leggings. She also looked surprised to see Akaashi in anything but his work wear. She let him in and went back to the stove, where the milk for the hot chocolate was bubbling on the stove. He saw [Name] spread out on an armchair, now changed out of her wet clothes. She saw him and immediately perked up, changing her position to see him better. He took a seat on the couch across from her. She gave him a smile and immediately began speaking to him.

“Stoneface-san! Feeling better?”

“Yes, much better. How about you?”

She smiled. “I’m doing great! I got my cake, I got to meet you, I got to see Yo-chan, and now she’s making me hot chocolate!”

Akaashi smiled at the childlike elation she had at the situation she was in. She was an optimist to the bone.

He was a bit jealous of her, though he didn’t realize it. He was jealous of people like her. They didn’t have a care in the world, complete confidence in themselves. And people like him or Takahashi were following them around making sure nothing happened to them because, jaded and anxious as they were, they didn’t want that optimism to fade. It gave them strength too. It reminded him of the former captain of his high school volleyball team. Bokuto-san’s confidence was a force to be reckoned with and now there he was, playing professionally on a world stage.

Takahashi walked over with two mugs of hot chocolate, setting them on the coffee table that separated him and [Name]. [Name]’s smile grew wider upon seeing the drink and she happily picked it up and immediately took a big sip.

Immediately she started coughing.

“Ah barned mah tahnge.” She said, with her tongue hanging out.

Takahashi and Akaashi started laughing in unison as [Name] also began laughing with her tongue still hanging out.

“Why are you laughing? You burned your tongue?” Akaashi asked through chuckles.

“It is funny,” [Name] said through sips of cold water to soothe her tongue.

Time was spent happily drinking hot chocolate while [Name] told them jokes and stories.

Putting down his mug, Akaashi looked at [Name].

“[Name]-san, I’ve been meaning to ask your full name, as I didn’t get it when I met you.”

[Name] smiled. “[Last Name] [Name]”

Akaashi did a double take. “I’ve been calling you by your first name this whole time? That’s incredibly disrespectful as we don’t know each other well”

“It’s fine, Stoneface-san. I’ve never liked using my surname as it puts a formality barrier between me and who I’m talking to. Please use my first name.”

Akaashi nodded in acceptance. “So [Name], what do you do for work?”

She winked. “If I told you it would be no fun. It’s your job to guess. Your hint is that I’m in the creative field.” After many consecutive wrong guesses, [Name] changed the subject and started telling them what had happened to her at the train station that morning. As they laughed, Akaashi began to realize how much fun he was having.

It had been a long time since he had done anything like this. He maintained a strictly professional relationship with his coworkers and Bokuto-san was not free most of the time with having gone professional. He would come by and have a drink with Akaashi ever so often, but Bokuto-san usually found himself leaving early to spend more time with Shoyo. Akaashi didn’t mind that he was branching out and he knew that their adult life was definitely going to impact their friendship. However, it was not after he lost them that he realized just how much he cherished the carefree days on the volleyball team, how he would chase Bokuto-san around with an umbrella to stop him from getting wet in the rain.

It was probably why he spent so many late nights at work, trying to quiet his mind by occupying it. His high school friends were all busy with their own lives, he felt he should be as well.

“Stoneface-san?” He heard

He snapped out of his daze and saw [Name] staring at him, slightly concerned.

“Are you okay? Your stare was really blank and you didn’t laugh when I told you about when I threw a squid tentacle at the guy who came to collect my taxes.”

“Oh, I’m sorry. I guess I’m just feeling a bit tired. I also have some work due tomorrow, so do you mind if I take my leave?”

Takahashi looked at him, obviously concerned, but trying to hide it. “Yes of course, I’ll show you to the door.”

She walked him over to the door of the apartment and opened it, letting him go through.

“Thank you for looking after [Name] today, I’m sorry if she was a bit of an inconvenience. It was nice to have you both over, we should do it again sometime.”

Akaashi nodded, thanked her, and went inside his own apartment.

He didn’t mean to leave so abruptly, but he wasn’t lying, he did have work.

He made his way to the small desk by the window of his apartment and sat down, picking up the large, stapled sheet of paper by his window.

Today, his work was a bit more enjoyable than usual. He was editing one of his more favorite comics that was published in his magazine. Asuma no Sekai was a comic set in a demon world, with the main character being an incredibly lazy demon who preferred eating cake to doing her job. The crazy schemes she pulled to get out of doing her job were sometimes more work than doing the actual job and always made the reader laugh. Editing it was a more favorable part of Akaashi’s week and it never failed to lift his mood. The author was Sakurai Daisuke. He had never met the author in person as he usually sent someone else to pick up his manuscript, but he looked forward to meeting someone who was such a good mangaka.

After spending a couple hours reading, laughing, and editing the work, Akaashi went to bed as he had work the next morning.

[Name] had left on the first train that morning and though Akaashi was slightly mournful that he didn’t get to say goodbye, he continued on with his day like normal.

As the week went by, [Name] occupied Akaashi’s thoughts slightly more than a normal person would. He would pass by the cake shops in his area and wonder if she would enjoy the one in the display window. He was confused by why he was thinking about her so often, but chalked it up to the fact that there were a lot of cake shops in his area.

Later that week, on an afternoon while he was home, Akaashi got a call from his employee, Okomoto Chiyo. She sounded extremely distressed.

“Akaashi-san! I’m so so sorry to bother you!”

“It’s okay, what do you need?”

“My wife is sick and I’m home taking care of her. I was supposed to pick up Sakurai-san’s manuscript today, but Nanako’s been throwing up all day and I can’t afford to leave her now. Do you mind picking it up?”

Akaashi was slightly annoyed, as he had just gotten home. However, he knew that he couldn’t possibly ask his employee to leave her sick wife.

“It’s completely okay. May I have Sakurai-san’s address? At least I can finally meet him.”

“It’s xxx-xxx on the other side of the city. The train will be able to get you there really fast. Sakurai-san should have completed her manuscript by now.”

“Her?” Akaashi was confused

“Sakurai Daisuke is a pen-name. The author is female. She picked a male name to sound more ambiguous.”

“Oh, that comes as a bit of a surprise.”

“Thank you so much for doing this, Akaashi-san! I am forever grateful to you.”

“It’s no problem.”

Akaashi looked out his window and toward the train station which was a couple blocks away. It was raining.

As he turned, his eyes fell on a now-dry neon yellow umbrella. He must have forgotten to give it back to [Name].

He picked up the umbrella, put on a long brown coat, and ran out his apartment door.

He was able to make it onto the train last minute, sitting on the seat in relief. As the train moved along, he thought about what the author might be like.

Thinking about it now, it was fairly obvious that this author wasn’t like most of the male authors Akaashi’s company had published.

There was barely any fan service in the series and the author made sure to write her female characters just as realistic and flawed as her male characters. Most of the male authors drew one woman with an unrealistic body and made her show up every now and then to rip her clothes off and leave. Sakurai-san’s female characters had personalities and all different body shapes, some bigger or smaller, darker or lighter, more like the women he would see in the real world.

The train announced his stop and he walked out, looking at the paper where he jotted down the address.

He navigated his way through the twists and turns until he finally got to the apartment building.

He entered and went to the specified floor and found the correct door.

As he raised his hand to knock, Akaashi suddenly felt a bit nervous to meet this author who he borderline idolized, especially when he found out he was wrong about her gender the whole time.

Nevertheless, his hand tapped lightly on the door twice and he heard footsteps rush to open it.

What he saw behind the door was definitely not what he expected.

[Name] was peeking out, wearing a large animal onesie, holding a plate of cake with a plastic fork.

“Stoneface-san?"

[therainroguefanfiction]

❉ 139 Dreams (Shinichi Okazaki) Off Guard

📑 Table of Contents

Genre: Angst, Fluff, Romance ☁

Word Count: 2,000 ☁

Pairing: Reader x Shinichi ☁

World: NANA ☁

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You frowned at the beer in your hand, hanging your head. You didn’t understand what was wrong with you lately. When you were writing your first book, the words flowed like water from a faucet, and ideas had been popping into your head left and right. You finished writing that book within only four months and, six months after that, the book was published with a well-known company.

When you had gotten the news that your book was on the best-sellers list, you felt absolutely ecstatic. Calls started pouring in, congratulating you on your debut success and your publisher began to push you for book number two, despite the fact that you had no plans of turning it into a series.

At the time, you felt energized and excited, immediately agreeing to the demand, but when you finally got around to sitting down to start writing said book, your mind went as blank as the page. How many times had you set the pen to the paper only to lift it back up again before a single line was written? What happened to that overflow of ideas you once had? Did they just disappear into smoke?

‘Am I just going to be a one-hit-wonder? Is this really where my dream ends?’ You found yourself wondering as your hand clenched the bottle tighter.

Your two close friends had long since stopped chatting, exchanging worried looks as they watched you. Koko reached out, setting her hand atop your own, which snapped you from your thoughts. You sent her a confused look. Was she trying to confess or something?

“Are you okay?” she inquired softly.

You forced a bright smile, sitting up straighter. “Yeah, I’m fine!”

“You were zoning out again,” Lee commended, resting his chin in his hand.

“Was I?” You sheepishly rubbed the back of your head. “Sorry, it’s been a long day. Writer’s stuff, you know.”

Koko hummed, reaching into her purse for a pen. She scribbled a number onto the napkin under her glass before sliding it over to you. You looked at it curiously, raising a brow – it wasn’t a number you recognized.

She giggled, her cheeks turning pink. “Call him. He has a way of knowing just what a person needs! Trust me, Y/N, Shinichi will blow your mind.”

You frowned down at the napkin, running your thumb over the dried ink. ‘Maybe I do need to get laid to clear my mind… Maybe if the experience is as good as she claims, it’ll even inspire something within me for the next book,’

After spending thirty more minutes together, the three of you exited the bar and went your separate ways. As you walked down the street, folding and unfolding the napkin, you decided to just bite the bullet. What did you have to lose? You pulled out your phone and dialed the number, heart racing as it started to ring.

“Hello?”

“Hi!” You answered a bit awkwardly. “Is this Shinichi?”

“This is him,”

“My friend gave me your number,” you chewed on your bottom lip, trying to think of the right words.

He chuckled and you faintly heard the flick of a lighter. “Would you like to make an appointment? I’m free tonight and will meet you wherever is convenient.”

“Oh, um, yeah! That’ll work. There’s a motel on Honjo street… do you know it?”

“Yeah, I’m not far from there. I’ll meet you there in twenty.”

“Sure,” The phone went dead and you ended the call, turning around to head in the direction of the motel. Night had long since fallen and the parking lot was nearly empty as you approached the glass door of the office where you found a middle-aged woman sitting behind the desk, drinking from something within a brown paper bag before coughing violently as the liquid went down the wrong pipe.

You forced a smile, pretending like you hadn’t seen the scene. “I’d like a room for two days, please.”

She hiccuped, turning toward the computer – an ancient fossil of a thing that you were surprised even worked. You had to repeat your information several times before she finally got it entered correctly. After confirming the payment, she handed you the key for room 204 and you stepped out into the chilly night. Movement from the left made you glance over, seeing a male stepping out of a taxi. He was thin with spiky, powder blue hair. Multiple piercings glinted under the light of the streetlamp, covering his ears and even one connected to his lip.

The man turned around after paying his fare and smiled, approaching you without hesitation. He was definitely cute but… something about him felt off and you just couldn’t put your finger on it.

“Hi,” you said softly, playing with the key in your hand to calm your nerves. “Shinichi, right? I got us a room.”

He smirked, “You work fast~” And then his hand slid into your own, his fingers calloused and rough. “Lead the way,”

With a nod, you started toward the row of rooms, glancing at him every few seconds. “I hope you’ll forgive me, but I’m not sure how this works.” You slid the key into the lock and entered the room, letting the door shut behind the two of you. “I’ve never done this before…”

Shinichi smiled gently as he sat on the side of the bed, hands behind him to support his weight. “Don’t worry, we can take it as slow as you need. First, tell me your name.”

You took a seat across from him on the other bed. “My name is Y/N,”

“Y/N,” he tested the way your name tasted on his tongue. “A gorgeous name for a gorgeous person.”

You giggled. “You’re quite the charmer, aren’t you.”

“It’s my job to be. Now, what is it you’re looking for, Y/N?”

Your lips parted to answer, but nothing escaped and your shoulders slumped as you frowned. ‘What do I want?’

Sensing your hesitation, Shinichi stood up and gently pushed you back onto the bed, his body hovering over your own as his knee settled between your legs and his lips pressed into the skin beneath your ear. His voice was husky as he spoke, warm breath tickling your skin. “Don’t overthink it. Tell me what’s bothering you, what made you give me a call.”

Your hands gripped at his slim waist, fingers sliding through the loops on his jeans. You’re not sure exactly what came over you, but you didn’t hesitate to spill your guts to this man, telling him every little detail from the moment you started writing to the current pressures from your publisher. Sometime during the story, he had shifted so he straddled your waist, looking down at you with wonder shining in his blue eyes.

“You’re really a best-selling author?” He grinned. “That’s so cool,”

“Yeah… cool.” You smiled back, but it was forced. “It’s looking like it’s just gonna be the one, though.”

“Hmm, I’ve always heard that it’s easiest to write about what you know or what you’ve personally experienced.”

“I’ve heard that before,” you admitted. “But my life hasn’t exactly been exciting or interesting.”

“Even so, you just got to start writing.” Shinichi stood up, pulling you with him before searching the small table between the two beds. He found a small pad of paper and a ballpoint pen and handed them over to you. “Don’t overthink it, just write whatever comes to mind.” He gave you an encouraging smile, tugging you toward the table.

You had very little hope that it would work, but his expression was just so damn cute you couldn’t deny him. Taking a deep breath to clear your mind, you sat down across from him and set the pen to the page.

And you started to write.

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

You burst through your apartment door, startling Shinichi who was sat on the floor with his guitar in his lap. “Shin! Guess what!”

He hummed, setting the guitar on the floor beside him as he crossed his legs. “Did you finally get a promotion at work?”

“Even better!” You cried, throwing yourself to the ground across from him. The excitement was so high that you couldn’t even sit still.

Shinichi frowned, leaning back against the couch. “Did you get a boyfriend?”

You rolled your eyes, smacking his knee. “No, you dork. My publisher approved the new book!”

“That’s great!” He smiled brightly, launching himself at you. You squeaked in surprise as the force sent you tumbling backward, his arms tight around your waist as he snuggled his face against your chest. “I knew you could do it, Y/N. I’m proud of you.”

You brought your hand up, fingers lacing through his hair, slightly stiff from the amount of gel he used to make it so spikey. “It’s all because of you, Shin.”

And it was. Since that first fateful meeting two years ago, you had met with him twice a week, soon going to three times a week before finally asking him over to your apartment where he spent several nights at a time. Each meeting, he would encourage you to write whatever came to your mind while he sat and observed you. You grew close to him pretty quickly and, soon, you completed the first draft for your next book.

Together, the two of you read through the draft, making corrections or changes as you saw fit. This book was just as much his as it was yours, and you made sure to tell him so.

“I helped with the ideas, sure, but you’re the one that put in the real work.” He responded, a smile lighting up his face.

“Move in with me,” you told him suddenly, feeling your heart quicken as you realized what you just said. ‘Shit, I said the first thing that popped into my head!’ You knew Shinichi was a prostitute and that he hadn’t stopped seeing his other clients since meeting you. You never figured he would, to be honest, but… you had let yourself get too attached to him and now it hurt knowing he went to see other people, sleeping with them and spending time with them.

He was a young, attractive man, so naturally he would rather be with the clients that actually slept with him rather than picking his brain for ideas for a book. The farthest you had gone with him was a kiss on the cheek.

Silence fell over the apartment and you closed your eyes, wishing you could just disappear. ‘Y/N, you idiot. God, why did I say that?’

Shinichi pushed himself away from you after the words had left your lips. The minutes ticked by in absolute silence, seeming to stretch on forever as you prayed that the ground would just swallow you up whole.

He took an intake of breath, slowly releasing it. “Okay,”

Now that caught you off guard. Your eyes snapped open, locking with his own. Had you misheard him?

With a soft smile, he leaned forward until his forehead was resting against yours. “I would love to live with you, Y/N.” And then his lips found yours and you knew he had developed feelings for you, too.

You nipped at his lip before flipping him over so that you were hovering above him. “You joked about me finding a boyfriend. How could I when you’re the only one I want, Shinichi?” You hoped your feelings could reach him, eyes shining with love. “You don’t have to sell yourself anymore! You can have my money, live in my apartment, eat my food. You never have to worry about making money anym -”

He cut off your words when he grabbed the back of your neck, slamming his lips against yours to silence you. It was obvious he didn’t know how to convey his feelings through words like you could, so he used his body to do the talking for him. And to you, his desires were clear as day.

‘I’m yours now,’

☾ ⋆*･ﾟ:⋆*･ﾟ: *⋆.*:･ﾟ .: ⋆*･ﾟ: . ☁

📜 Read more by checking out my masterlist 📜

[solesurvivorpaigeargot]

I absolutely LOVE Sketchy Saturdays and I always look forward to them!! As for my question(s)? What made you decide to start doing it(I'm glad you do but I was just curious!)?

Hoooo boi the Sketchy Saturday Origin Story: I suppose there's two versions.

The short version reads " Moving stress, deployment depression, and isolation VS. my utter determination to DO SOMETHING whilst trapped in my home " -- Sketchy Saturday was the result of that title fight, so I guess the fandom won in the end? XD

The long version, however... Well, buckle up, cause this is gonna be a ride.

It may surprise y'all to know that two years I was eyeballs-deep in the South Park fandom. The blog still exists; my mainblog, JustCallMeButtlord, built to interact with the audience of my fanfictions-- the New Kid Stories, called NKS for short [gonna be porting those to Ao3 soon, just gotta figure out what robo-reader I'm gonna use to make a quick n dirty podfic out of the series as well as help me hunt down typos my eyes galze over]. The first 'season' of stories had ended, 8 completed fics, and I was puttering about with a bonus holiday story that was several months out of season. Not that I CARED because I was on GUAM where seasons don't exist and my time blindness gets even worse becasue without seasons changing it feels like time never progrsses even after being on the island for three cocksucking years.

I don't hate Guam, I am just not built for constant heat. I am a snow creature; I like below-freezing temperatures so I can layer up in fuzzy, fluffy things and drink hot drinks and cuddle loved ones and/or furry animals. It's a lovely island, I adored my first week there... I just wasn't made to live there.

HIlariously, NKS started out of the stress of moving to Guam. Two years and 8 fics later, the place we were renting was no longer within our price range and my hubby and I were forced to move onto base. Under the leader whom I refuse to name, military pay was given a precentage raise... but it was ripped out of bonuses and OCONUS pay. OCONUS is what a military member is paid when they're stationed Outisde the CONtinental United States. This usually means overseas bases like Japan, but it also means Hawaii, aaaaaand... GUAM. So that percentage pay increase for the military at large meant belt-tightening for every service member abroad, and we were forced to move onto base.

In case y'all haven't noticed by now, I'm a raging socialist with some issued with authority. I DO NOT LIKE EXISTING ON BASE. I do not like existing in a place where the national anthem plays twice a day, every day, at 6 AM and then again whenever the hell sundown is that day. And there's an unspoken rule no one tells you that when it plays you're supposed to stop what you're doing, face the nearest set of speakers playing the song, and stare in that direction with your hand over your heart until its over. That, if you're driving, you have to put on your emergency flashers and pull over. No one tells you this. NO ONE TELLS YOU THIS.

And then, before we had secured a place on base but we had set a move out date for the rental house, the Pandemic happened. While we were between homes. The base is talking full lockdown, Guam authorities want to shut down the island but businesses are terrified of not getting the tourist season business, we don't even know if we'll be allowed to move on to base.

Surprise, I stopped writing for a while... but I picked Fallout 4 back up again. I had been forced into the series years earlier by a toxic relationship, but the game itself hadn't been bad-- just the way I'd been forced to play it by someone who was firmly not in my life anymore. When confronted with character creation, I wasn't sure whom I wanted to make... but decided to go back to an old character. A VERY old character, whom I hadn't thought of since I'd finished ME3 at least 4 years prior, and a character I first conceived of when I was 14-ish... which is now about 15 years ago.

Paige.

I've talked before about how well Paige's story maps onto Fo4, but this was before I knew that. I knew the opening, her losing her kid, and that fit with her-- but something clicked while I was playing and the part of my brain that likes to create started wandering off. Soon enough I've got a couple chapters of a ficlet that I'm TOTALLY just writing as a personal one-shot to de-stress, no way I'm publishing this, I don't wanna get distracted from NKS, I got a whole 'nother season to write! Who cares if no one is reading it anymore because South Park Fandom doesn't like continuous plots.... right?

I was burnt out as hell, the move was looming, the Pandemic was getting worse and everything was getting scarier.

Then the news came through that hubby would be deploying again.

He wasn't supposed to, but the Navy decided the safest place for their sailors was the middle of the ocean, so if you WERENT in quarantine you were going on the boat and you were living there. Didn't matter if your spouse would be alone, unpacking a whole home by themselves.

I had a friend on base. We hung out. I met with my DND group on weekends; we all lived on base now, so we could meet up in like five minutes... and then restrictions tightened. You could be fined up to 5 grand for gathering in groups greater than 5, even outdoors, and detained if suspected of going to a home that wasn't yours. I still met 2 of my friends once a week for walks; get outside, be active, talk to other humans, but besides that? I was locked up alone in a new house in a place that I did NOT like existing in.... with a fresh new hyperfixation developing.

I think it was about a week into the new house that I made the new blog. At first I tried to run it side by side with the South Park stuff, but it wasn't long before all my attention was here... aaaand it also wasn't long before I was confronted with a lot of my own despair; of lockdown, of isolation, of watching a broken system crumble and not being able to DO anything about it, and I started to kinda lose my shit. I fuss-- I can't leave things alone, and I couldn't leave this feeling alone; of being fully and entirely helpless and hopeless.

And then I sketched a thing for a friend, and it made them happy. They were having a rough time, too, and I put something together because I couldn't think of anything else. And it helped. It lifted them up, and it lifted me up, too. Someone else had recently reblogged one of those pallet challenges that floats around Tumblr, and I decided FUCK IT LET'S DO THIS THING AND CALL IT SKETCHY SATURDAY!

Little secret, the very first Sketchy Saturday request? Was me. I was so scared no one would noticed the event, I sent myself the very first request, back when the event still took anons. Soon as that first picture was up:

BANG, suddenly four more; some people off anon. I met people that day, talked to them after the very first Sketchy weekend was over, chatted about the games and characters and art and writing and just... felt human for the first time in a really long while.

I figured I'd hold on to Sketchy Saturday until the deployment was over-- once hubby was back, I'd decide whether I was keeping it or not... but he came back, and I was still super into it, and he was supportive, sooooo I kept going! And then we did Sketchy Secret Santa, and people loved it, and my volunteers are excited about being Sketchy Elves and Secret Helpers and just OH MY GOD I DID A THING GUYS. I DID A THING-- that was just me all December and January long lmafo.

AND JANUARY! Because AH HECK, WE MOVING AGAIN! Because hubby finally got orders, and OH MY GOD we're going back to WA... but it's still a move half-way around the globe, and I was SURE I'd have to shut down the event for a month while we got our shit in order and NOPE, because here come the volunteers from Sketchy Secret Santa, and they wanna fill in all month long! Like... I didn't even ask for that shit, guys. They offered it so the event wouldn't have to take a gap.

Jesus I'm getting teary just remembering it.

So yeah. Sketchy Saturday is here because I got really lonely and stressed out while Fallout 4 provided me with some... catharsis for my situation, and then a pandemic happened.

And then y'all happened, and I'm still here. :D

[yeeterparkersblog]

Last Days | PART 3

Pairing: 6 Underground! Four/Billy x reader

Word Count: 3.9 k

Warnings: Drinking, smut (Whaaaa?)

Summary: To everyone else, he was a suave young man in a gang of thieves, someone they would rather not get tangled up with. To you, he was a cheeky bastard who wouldn’t get out of your hair and most of all, a rival thief. But one day, he decides to reach out to you.

Publishing Date: 29 March 2020

A/N: Hello my dears! Thank you for being so patient with me. It’s been 2 months I think since I posted Part 2. Thank you for being so patient. I LOVE YOU. I had my midterms but now they’re over and everyone is in quarantine and practicing social isolation. Part 3 is quite short but it’s pretty satisfactory (I hope). Again I can’t say when I’ll post the next part, just know that I am trying my very best, under these circumstances, to write these fics. Thank you again! I love and appreciate you lots! (Also pls excuse any grammar or spelling mistakes I’ve made thanks)

PART 1  2

Pouring your heart out to someone you’ve known for less than a year, wasn’t exactly an easy feat. But you felt like you had to do it. If it weren’t for Billy, God knows the amount of debt you’d be in. Granted, he was the one who put you in debt. But the profit from the tiara would be more than you would have gotten from the Pasteque or the Blasé.

The cold wind sent goosebumps along your skin, causing an involuntary shiver. Though it could have also been due to your nerves. Your fidgeting hands picked at the sticker on the beer bottle until it had come off.

How would you put this?

“So long story short, I think I just wanted to say…” You concluded. “Thank you.”

“Thank you?” He repeated, inching closer to hear your whispers.

“You are saving my life by giving me the chance to work with you.” You put down your beer bottle. “The tiara will give us 1 million each!”

“You do realize I stole the necklace and ring from you, right? That’s why you’re in debt.”

“Yes, but I spent a bit too much preparing for those that even if I did steal them, the profits wouldn’t be much.” Billy arched a brow curiously. “This time, however, you’re the one who’s paying for the preparation. I’m getting 100% of my profits, but you… How much did you spend anyway?”

“Well, how much was the Pasteque?”

“Christ, Billy…” You stood up from the bench suddenly. “3 Mil? This means you’re losing money!”

“Stop worrying about me (Y/N). I’m not the one deep in debt.” He lightly gripped your hand to pull you back on the bench next to him. “You need the money more than I do.”

A moment of silence passed between you two. You didn’t know what to say to him. He’s sacrificing millions for you. But why? Was he feeling sorry for you?

“You need the money more than I do.” You barely hear him utter those words. “You need to take all the money. Please.”

“What? No!” You looked at him with disbelief. “Billy, you deserve your share.”

“Well, you didn’t deserve what I pulled over the last few months. Take. The money.” He said almost harshly. “The 2 million? It’s all yours.”

“Stop making things so difficult!” Your voices started to raise, each trying to overlap the other’s.

“It’s not difficult. I’m giving you the money. Why won’t you take it?! Who’d refuse free money?”

“You’re just feeling sorry for me, and I refuse to accept your pitiful handouts.”

“This isn’t a pitiful handout. I’m just trying to help you!” He rose from his seat to stare you down. “Why won’t you accept my help?”

A pang in your chest. “Why do you care, Billy?” Your voice had started to tremble. “Why do you care how I do? Why would you willingly sacrifice so much to help me? You just care SO MUCH, don’t you?”

You buried your face in the palms of your hands. Wherever these sudden bursts of emotions had come from, you didn’t know. All you knew was that you felt ridiculous, in your huge green dress, weeping like a child in front of Billy.

You felt his warm hands wrap around you. “I can’t tell you why I care. But I just do.”

“You need to think about yourself too.” Your words came out muffled from behind your hands.

You started wiping your tears hastily and smearing mascara everywhere.

“Look.” You spoke before Billy could get a word in. “I… care about you too.”

Your words not only took Billy by surprise but you as well.

“I get that you’re just wanting to help me, or just trying to apologize. But, what about you? You need the mo-”

“I have money, (Y/N). This isn’t my third or fourth heist.” Billy scratched the back of his neck. “Unlike you.”

You were sitting on the fence here. You needed the money. The other million would help you out SO much. You just didn’t want Billy to lose so much to do so.

“Are you sure about this?”

“Answer the question yourself.” He merely sat back on the bench and stared out at the city. “Will the extra million help you?”

Silence once more. You, wondering if you can accept his offering. Him, wondering how else he can convince you to take the money. And he cared too much to give in.

“If I’m the reason why you’re not accepting the money, you have nothing to worry about. I have money from previous heists.” He suddenly turned to you. “Please don’t tell me it’s because of your pride or some other stupid thing?”

You paused to think. “And you are still working with the crew?”

“Yes.”

“You swear you have money from prior heists and the Blasé.”

“I have money from prior heists, I swear.”

His eyes watched as you bit down on lip in uncertainty, as you licked your lips to wet them. Your nose scrunched in concentration, weighing the pros and cons.

“Alright.” You started to speak. “If you really don’t mind… I’ll take the money.”

His fists thrust up in victory.  "Final-“

“On the condition that I will pay you back.”

Shrugging, he accepted your terms. “Only after you get out of that financial rut.”

A warm feeling spread in your chest. “I guess I owe you another thanks?”

“Love, you look like a raccoon.”

“Excuse me?” His comment was like whiplash on your sincere words. “I’m trying to…”

“The uh…” He playfully laughed, gesturing at the area around your eyes. “Mascara?”

“Fuck.” You rubbed at it, not succeeding to get it off at all. “Just…”

“It’s okay. You still look nice.”

“Sweet talk won’t get you anywhere, bugger.”

“You say that.” He put down his now empty beer bottle. “But I can see you biting back that grin.”

You chug down the rest of your beer to avoid his eye contact, slamming your bottle down next to his the moment you were done.

And then it was quiet again. You’ve said what you had come here to say. What else could you do? Just stare out at the magnificent view, then. Both you and Billy’s hands still lingering on the beer bottles in between.

It was comfortable, the silence. Not at all awkward like you had thought it would be. The glass bottle was still slightly cold, despite being taken out of the fridge some time ago.

Billy’s fingers were a sudden contrast to the bottle when they brushed against yours. You jumped slightly but said nothing. You, for some reason, didn���t need to think twice of what to do. You merely smiled to yourself as you returned his grasp.

Your fingers intertwine, ignoring the bottles now. Both pairs of eyes stared straight forward, and neither one spoke. But all the solace you needed was the comforting graze of his thumb over yours, just like he had done during the gala.  

Your pointer finger just tapped rhythmically against the back of his hand, not knowing what to do.

His hand was so big it almost engulfs yours. His palm was as rough as it looked. And his fingers? Thick enough to make your mind wander, and your cheeks flush. Biting down on your lip, you suppress those thoughts.

Your head tilts in his direction, to see that his emerald orbs were already gazing at you.

“Hi.” He whispered.

Was it the wind? Was it the cold night? Was it the way he spoke it? Because whatever it was sent a pleasant shiver down your spine.

“Hi.” You smiled back.

With only the lone streetlight, you could barely see your surroundings. But even in the dark, you could see how intently and adoringly he studied you. The pupils of his eyes were dilated.

Heads inching closer and closer until your foreheads touched, and you could feel his ragged breath on your lips. They were hot. No words now. None of you dared to make a whimper.

It started softly. A teasing brush with just a bit of pressure. Like a dragonfly grazing the surface of the water, testing the waters. You could feel his lips curve up in a smile against yours.

How soft they were.

His lips were tender on yours, like he was mapping out every little curve. His arm dared to come up to cup your cheek as he continued to caress your mouth with his lips.

But the longer it went on, the more desperate and more passionate it got. It went from fleeting butterflies in your stomach to fireworks exploding and going off. His hands explored the curves of your body accentuated by your dress, while your hands made their home in his blond locks, gripping.

A moan escaped you when he bit down particularly hard. You pressed harder against his mouth in encouragement.

He took that as an invitation and parted your lips. You could taste the alcohol from the beer and champagne the two of you had been drinking. It was…intoxicating.

You couldn’t think straight. All you knew was that you wanted more. The heat between your legs demanded more.

You moved your leg to straddle him, but you had forgotten what sat between the two of you.

The two beer bottles fell to the pavement with a deafening crash, big glass shards shattering apart. The sound reverberated in the silent night and forced you and Billy out of your trances.

And both of you just stared at each other, frozen. You, caught halfway between a straddle, must have been quite the spectacle. Billy’s breath hitched in his throat, staring at the lipstick smeared and snogged all over your lips. He shifted uncomfortably.

He was the first to make a move- he shoved you off him. You flinched when he pushed you back into the bench, feeling your heart squeeze tightly in your chest.  

Puzzled, you watched as he squatted down to clean up the glass shards. A mixing pot of emotions brewed in your gut.

Frustration. Confusion. Rejection.

And they all felt ugly.

Why’d he pushed you off like that?

You watched bewilderingly from the bench. He couldn’t even face you right now? His back the only thing you could see, with the way he was positioned.

You’re starting to remember how you look. The black mess of mascara around your eyes. Both of you panting as if you had just run a mile. Your hair was probably a bird’s nest right now.

Though Billy’s hair wasn’t looking any better. You silently ran your eyes over the job you had done, your cheeks turning a deeper shade of red when you recall the feeling of his hair between your fingers.

You felt your thighs clench.

Not the right time, (Y/N)!

“I’m sorry.” Billy suddenly spoke, standing up. He had taken the big shards of glass in his hand carefully. He breezed past you without meeting your eye and threw out the glass in a rubbish bin nearby.

Why was he sorry?

“Come on. I’ll give you a ride home.” His voice was strained. He couldn’t bring himself to look at you. Was he ashamed?

But you didn’t want to say anything either. You just got into the car with him and looked out the window, disappointed with how the night turned out. You had hoped that…

Never mind.

If you and Billy ever decide to talk about it, maybe you could blame it on the alcohol. It was certainly a factor. One too many flutes of champagnes, and the beer, you’d say. You could taste it on him, he could taste it on you.

The two of you may be sat next to each other in the car, but emotionally no one’s ever felt this distant.

Billy looked over at you. The dress and your messy bun had your back exposed to him. You hadn’t bothered to tidy up your hair.

A trail of barely visible nail marks had appeared along your spine, no doubt thanks to Billy. He didn’t know how he felt about that. Only that the front of his pants had felt tighter and he had to shift in his seat to feel more comfortable.

Sitting in the dreadfully silent car, you could only wonder two things.

1. How would the night have gone if the bottles hadn’t been knocked over?

2. How far would the two of you have gone?

But those questions weren’t meant to be answered. The night took a wildly different turn. He had decided to shove you off him.

And that hurt you more than you cared to admit.

A sense of dread washed over you as the car pulled into your apartment. The car came to a stop. Your grip on your purse tightened. What now?

Is he expecting you to leave right away? Perhaps you should say something. Something that had been bugging you.

“Billy,” Your voice came out weaker than you had expected, but it was enough to gauge his attention. “I hope you don’t think I only kissed you because you gave me money.”

“NO! No! I wasn’t thinking that.” He was nervous, fingers twiddling while he wracked his brain for something to say.

You dared to meet his eyes. They were wide with anxiety.

“Can I walk you back to your apartment?”

—

It feels like ages ago since the two of you were in this elevator together, though it has only been a few hours, earlier in the day.

While previously the two of you could successfully diffuse the tension, this time it was too much. Both your minds kept drifting back to the heated make-out session, too flustered to say anything. You tried to focus on anything other than the ache between your legs.

You did your best to ignore Billy, who kept changing his stance, visibly uncomfortable.

You could have sworn that you thought Billy had the same feelings. That’s why you dared to go all in. But… he had pushed you off. Rather quickly too. Now everything’s become so painfully awkward.

“I’ll be back next week, okay?”

His voice sounded so loud in the small elevator.

“W-Why?”

“I’m going to give you the money.”

“Okay right.” You tilted your head curiously. “A week?”

“It’s going to take me a few days to get it to the proper pawn shops. I can’t sell the entire thing all at once. Too much suspicion.”

“Okay.”

“And it’s going to be in cash only.”

“Why…?”

“Cash is less traceable.”

“Oh okay.”

Dear God. Were ‘why’ and ‘okay’ the only words you could muster? You need a good slap.

From Bil- no.

You crossed your legs. You can see the unmistakable blush on your cheeks from the reflection. He could see it too.

“I’ll call you, okay?”

“What?!” Your exclamation was a tad too loud. Billy looked at you as if you had grown a second head.

“To keep you updated…?”

“O-Oh, yes. Of course.”

Gosh. 'Painstakingly awkward’ couldn’t even begin to describe the mood. Hurry! Come on!!!!

A silent breath of relief escaped you when the 'ding!’ of the elevator was finally heard. One second later and you would’ve combusted from the tension.

You bunch up your dress in your arms and trudge out the small space, Billy following closely behind.

You unlocked your door and suddenly you didn’t know what to do. Would inviting him in be too weird? Perhaps you should just bid your goodbyes. Or say anything. Thank him? Yes, probably.

“Thank you. Again.” You let out a nervous laugh, which he hesitantly returned. “For the uh… 2 million.”

“Yes, you’re welcome. Not a big deal.” Pursing his lips, he briefly scanned your person. “And the earrings. Hopefully, you’ll keep them?”

“Oh! Of course. Yes. Thank you.”

And both of you just nodded like two idiots in the doorway of your apartment. You cringed inwardly. Now what?

“Hey, I’m quite tired… So uh.” You tapped on the door, mentally slapping yourself. God! What was that lame sentence?

“Okay, I’ll just leave you alone then.” Ouch. You looked anywhere but his person. “I’ll call you. Text you. Uh, whatever you prefer.”

“Yeah, I… thank you! Goodnight!” And you swung the door shut, praying that you didn’t come off as too insincere or rude. Because right now, you only had one thing on your mind.

“Fuck sake.” You whispered under your breath. “What was that?” You were bumbling and mumbling around like a shy schoolgirl talking to her crush, which was very unlike you! You’d rather not know how much you had been blushing.

But you knew your foggy mind was a result of something other than your nerves. You knew quite well what it was.

“Bloody wanker.” You cursed, finally giving in.

You made a beeline for the bathroom, fingers fumbling desperately with the zipper of your dress. If you had opened the door any harsher, it would’ve come right off its hinges.

Your dress pooled at your feet and you kicked it off hurriedly as you entered your small bathroom. Stopping just for a second to gawk and laugh at your reflection in the mirror. You did look like a raccoon, one that just had a heavy make-out session, that is.

You managed to wipe off your makeup in record time and hop in the shower.

Sighing loudly when the hot water from the showerhead hits your body, you lean against the other side of the wall. Not that it made much of a difference. The shower area was pathetically small, just enough room for you to spread one of your arms. How luxurious right?

Well, it was the apartment that you could afford. But now you’d have enough money to get out of this hovel. And you owed it all to one person.

It wasn’t just the hot water that was warming you up. Your mind kept drifting back to the hill. How hot and bothered you had become. How riled up you still are now.

Your fingers swiped over your lips, applying just the smallest amounts of pressure. His kiss still lingered on your lips, the fading taste of alcohol on the tip of your tongue.

Your finger trailed down between your breasts and along the curves of your figure. You could remember his starved touch, how the caress of his large hands left an ache between your legs. Oh, how you wanted to satiate it.

Your hand sneaked down to where you wish his had gone.

A strangled gasp escaped you as soon as you brushed your sensitive bud. That’s how pent up you were. Your cheeks reddened, because all you could think of was what he would say if he were here.

“So needy.” He would tease. “All for me.”

The hand on your lips inched up to your hair, gripping hard. If it were him, how hard would he pull? How far would he go?

You let your imagination ran wild. Your finger rubbed small circles on your clit, and you imagined it was his thick and large fingers instead of yours. His body would be pressed against yours, pressing you harder into the wall. His lips would be by your ear, asking you how good you felt, before they continued to make red marks down your neck.

Then his lips would trail down to your chest, his hot breath igniting the nerves of your skin before he wraps his plump lips around your nipple, sucking the sweet moans out of you.

“Count for me, love?” His already deep voice would be an octave deeper. The tip of his middle finger pressed lightly against your entrance. It sent jolts of electricity up your spine.

He slowly inserted the first finger, dragging out the feeling so you can take it in. It earned a whiny moan from you.

“O-One…” You breathed out.

His middle finger began to thrust in and out, his thumb still playing with your swollen bud. Your gasps and moans were music to his ears.

“Ready for more?” He grinned wickedly. His index finger came into play and yet another eager whimper escaped you. His fingers curled up in a come-hither motion, curling against the spot that has your toes curling.

“TwO- FUCK!” You bite down on your lip, hard. You were loud. Your free hand goes up to clamp your mouth while his fingers continue to pump in and out of you rhythmically.

“No, no.” He suddenly says, his other hand letting go of your hair to move to your jaw. He pulls away your hand covering your mouth. “Let me hear you.”

And so you did, staring straight into his greens while he soaks up every sweet moan and curse from you.

Then he added his third finger, adding onto the thickness, filling you up more. A loud cry left your lips from deep within your throat at the additional friction.

“You can take it?”

You just nod in reaction, desperately grinding against his fingers as a sign for more. He took in your response with a lick of his lips.

He began to quicken the pace of his pumps, and the pace of his thumb around your bud. You just hope you didn’t wake the neighbors as your head threw back in ecstasy, loud pants and moans filling the small room.

“You’re such a good girl for me.” He groaned. “Such a good girl.”

Your eyes shut tightly as your mind clouded over. You couldn’t keep them open when you started to reach your high.“

"Are you gonna cum for me?” He asked, placing kisses on the tips of your chest. “Let me hear it. Let the whole floor hear you.”

You could see yourself on the small mirror of the other side of the wall. Your full breasts rising and falling, chest heaving. Your head against the wall while your jaw slacked wide open with filthy moans. You, chasing your high and getting off to imagination.

In the mirror, you see a glint of green through a blur of tears. The emerald earrings, still on your ears. You had forgotten to take them off. It turned you on further.

“Come on.” He says. “Scream my name.”

The pace on your clit quickens, the shine of the emeralds egged you on. All of it sent you over the edge. You couldn’t hold back your loud cry when you reached your toe-curling, back-arching orgasm. Your vision is white and eyes were squeezed shut, but you could still see his eyes savoring you as you fell apart.

“BILLY!” You moaned hard, knees buckling as you gasp for breath through your high.

“Good girl.” You barely hear his whisper through the muffled ring in your ears. You couldn’t feel anything besides the intensity between your legs.

But it ended sooner than you had hoped, and the feeling ended within a matter of seconds. You’re left to lean against the wall for balance while you blink away the white spots of pleasure, chuckling quietly at what you just did.

You steadied yourself with your arms. Your fingers were starting to cramp up.

It was suddenly so quiet, with just the sound of the water hitting your skin and the tiles. It felt so solitary, so empty. There hadn’t been a blond hunk that fingered you to orgasm. Oh, but wouldn’t it be nice if there had been?

You pumped a few blobs of shampoo into your palm, massaging it into your hair. Your reflection stared back at you. And so did the earrings.

Maybe... Just maybe... And you admit it.

You walked a few steps in front of the mirror, gazing at the emeralds. You smiled fondly.

Maybe you fancied Billy.

Tags:

@pippin248

@queenlover05

@sjeunhaelover

@takemetoneverland420

@onceuponadetectivedemigod

@dabitchisback​

If I forgot to tag you I’m sorry!!

[melyaliz]

Remember me pt. 7

Master List

Fandom: My Hero Academia

Pairing: Bakugo Katsuki x OC

Notes: I have been having a ton of My Hero Academia ideas which is so annoying because... I just don’t have time to write them. But I may try to do a few shorts? Idk no promises.  

All Masterlists @melyalizarchive​

Connect with me! AO3 / Instagram / Pinterest

DONATE or REQUEST

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0- Olive - -0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

“I need an insult for this character to call the other character,” Olive said looking up from her position on the floor where she was typing away editing the Alien romance she was working on. Eliott was playing some sports video game.

“A cum milkshake,” he said without missing a beat

“What?” Olive let out a slightly shocked laugh.

“You heard me.”

Olive fake gagged rolling her eyes as Eliott burst out laughing “See? It’s perfect, I don’t know any context but I’m sure it’ll fit into any story.”

“You nasty” Olive chuckled going back to her story. “I’ll keep my story questions to only guns, Metal bands, and sports.”

They both lapsed into silence again Olive moving from the floor to the couch continuing to mold her story. The bones were already there; she just needed to add the meat. Like creative insults. Eliott got up moving to their kitchen. A few moments later he reappeared with a glass of something.

“Oh speaking of Cum milkshakes.” Eliott shickered holding out the glass, “Try this.” he held out his beer stein which had what looked like a foamy orange juice.

“Oh fuck what is that?” Olive said, taking a sip without question. Regardless of his off-color jokes she always trusted Eliott with his food and drink concoctions.

“It’s a beer-mosa with that white that Joe gave us.”

“It’s amazing when did you think this up?”

“Right now.”

Reaching down Eliott tried to take the drink from Olive only to have her slowly pull away from him looking up as she took both hands to grip the cup frowning at him.

“Did you want me to make you your own?” he asked chuckling  

“Oh, this one isn’t mine?”

“No, I’ll make you one.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

Bakugou has said he would be coming home late that night. Thus Olive had hunkered down with Dolemite to read her stories. Turns out she actually owned hard copies of the books on a shelf next to her desk.  So after finding a blanket she had made herself a nest to dive into her works.

Dragon’s Dick turned out to be officially named “On Dragon’s Wings” about the ups and downs of dating a dragon shifter. Two hours later she was live texting Lilly bits of the story laughing at her work and getting so exciting trying to guess the ending. Lilly was getting a kick out of it texting her back with crazy theories even though she knew just how things turned out.

Olive was in it deep which was why she felt like she was waking from a dream when the door opened to her apartment. Dolemite letting out a soft meow before walking up to greet the blonde.

Her husband.

She could hear him curse at the cut along with a string of low words she assumed were in Japanese. It made her chuckle as she was sure the clingy cat almost tipped him on his way in. The fluffy cat had a way of getting right under your feet when you didn’t pay attention to him.

A  moment later Katsuki came into the living room his dark red eyes searching for her slightly desperately only to relax when his gaze fell on her curled up in her fluffy blanket. She smiled up at him, eyebright body much more relaxed than they had been.

“Welcome home.”

“How’s it going?” he grunted nodding toward the book in her hand,

“I’m actually good! And like… it’s like reading all my ideas but finished!”

“Well that’s because they are,” he said sitting down next to her.

“I see so many things etched in these too… and some things I think are… maybe you?”

“Huh?” that took him by surprise.

“I don’t know,” she mumbled, flipping through a few pages trying to find the part. “It’s just so specific and I know it’s not something that.. Uhhh”

“Eliott would do.”

“Yeah”

“What is it?”

“I’m trying to… oh here it is.”

Brock leaned forward to light the fireworks “You light up my world” Cami said giggling at her own stupid joke.

“God you're stupid.” he chuckled his golden eyes flickering toward her as he, without looking lit up the firework. It sparked and flew up into the sky exploding into a million colors raining down on them. He was showing off now. Cocky smile on his face. “

Bakugou frowned, he had honestly never read her books. She had never asked him too so he just never had. But he now had a strong desire to pour over each text to see just what she thought of him. “You then tried to light one and almost set yourself on fire.”

“That’s in here too.” she laughed her thumbs going over the pages. “When did we start dating? This book says it was published about 3 and a half years ago.”

“Almost 4 years ago, we have been married for almost 2.”

“So we would have been together during at least some of this. That would make sense. Since there is a bit of a shift in tone from the first few chapters and the last ones. In fact this book in general is a bit different from my other ones that I do remember.”

“Oh?” Now he was really curious.  

“Before my stuff was more… funny. Offbeat and silly. And this one is a lot like that, maybe a bit darker humor and then it kind of shifts to…” she paused holding the book in her hands, “almost tender.”

“Tender?” something about that made his heart heavy. Tender. He wasn’t sure he would call their relationship tender. Fiery sure. Passionate yes. But Tender?

Bakugou wasn’t a tender guy.  

But thinking back to those first few months. Late nights texting. Video chatting. Her just smiling at him while he spent an hour explaining moves he was working on. Venting about work or just life. That one time she made him watch Miami Connection with her when she came to Japan and her laughing so hard she was in tears while he screamed at her asking why she would put him through something like that.

He didn’t think of those moments as tender but she did.

All those times he could catch her just smiling at him. Just sitting there watching him do whatever it was he was doing with this look that he couldn’t describe. At first, he used to get mad, thinking she was laughing at him feeling insecure about her gaze. But whenever he confronted her about it she would just shrug and go “I just like you.”

Then one day it was just normal. To see her catch his eye and just give him that soft smile. Like he was the greatest thing that had ever lived.

Looking back at it now was like seeing it in a different shade of color. Something about that seemed so strange to him. As if he was looking at this from an outsider. Looking in on someone else’s relationship.

“Hey Katsuki” her voice was soft and he was taken out of his musings. He turned studying her feeling that deep sadness that came from knowing that you may have lost something forever. All that history they had built together. A fear that maybe she wouldn’t like him anymore. She would want what she used to have so much more. That those looks she used to give him were gone forever. “I want to go to therapy.”

“What?” of all the things he thought she would say he wasn’t expecting that. He felt like he couldn’t breathe. Didn't want to. As if he so much as made a sudden movement this moment would disappear too.

“Is there some way I could do that? Maybe I could find a way to jog my memories. I just… I hate this.” she studied his face, both of them trying to read the other trying to find what they had lost. “I want to remember you.”

-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-0-

The next few weeks were weird ones. Bakugou would take a random day off here and there and even come home early or leave late. Just to make sure she felt comfortable in her environment. Help her find some sort of routine so she could do things without him needing to help her. While she always told him she could figure it out it was partly for him. He just wanted to make sure she was safe.

She started going to a therapist about twice a week and some things seemed to be coming back.

Mostly her Japanese.

Which made sense since she had been studying it for around a year before Eliott’s death. So Bakugou wasn’t sure if that was coming back because he was starting to talk to her in Japanese to help her or if it really was her memory.

There were other small things. Maybe muscle memory. When they would sleep he would feel her reach out for him, her fingers brush his side as if confirming he was there. He wasn’t sure if it was him or Eliott that she was reaching for but he didn’t care. Taking her fingers in his own he would hold onto her and pretend it was her body remembering him. Even if her mind didn’t

“Baku Baku?”

Bakugou froze at the nickname. He hadn’t heard that one in a long time. It was as if an icy hand had clinched his heart squeezing it hard. “What?” he asked.

“This video,” she said holding up. “Lilly sent it last night”

Olive was on Lilly’s floor laughing and talking in a mix of English and Japanese. He remembered that night. They had flown to the US to see some friends and family. While there Lilly, Clare, their husbands, and a few other friends had all gone out drinking. Olive had ended up taking shots with Clare and the two girls had gotten very drunk. Bakugou had basically half dragged, half carried her back to Lilly’s place

“That’s my fiance Baku Baku, he’s so cute.” Olive was saying as pointed at someone off screen.

“Good luck with that she’s done.” Lilly’s voice laughed from behind the camera.

“Are you filming me!?!” Olive asked, pouting her glassy eyes glaring at the camera.

“Yeah Nickie wanted to make sure you made it home”

“Nickie I’m going to cuddle the shit out of my Baku Baku. and then I’m going to...”

“Ok we are done,” Bakugou said coming into frame, bending down picking her up, throwing her over his shoulder. She giggled looking at the camera mouthing ‘wow so strong’. Then leaning forward she started not so quietly whispering to him

“I’m going to suck your--”

“Bedtime!” Bakugou said, shoving his hand over her mouth making her laugh.

That had been over almost 3 years ago but it felt like yesterday and a lifetime ago.

“Damn your arms are huge,” Olive said, zooming in on the image of Bakugou’s arm holding her. His bicep looking particularly large from the angel he was flexing.

“Hard work,” he smirked, enjoying the praise.

“I can’t believe you picked me up.”

“I can still pick you up,” he stated.

She giggled, shaking her head, “I believe you... Baku Baku.”

“God idiot.” as much as he hated that nickname he couldn’t help but admit it sounded amazing at the moment. Was he really that desperate for some sort of normalcy?

“Oh and this one too!” she giggled pulling up another video. Olive was standing slightly flushed, her arm slung over Momo’s. They were in a bar, colorful lights pulsing with the music blasting above. Mina’s voice came from behind the camera, clearly filming the two other girls.

“What happened?”

“This guy tried to grab Momo’s tits so I told him to take his little dick energy somewhere else and leave my wife alone.”

“Oh are you guys married now?” there was a giggle at the end of Mina’s voice, clearly finding the exchange hilarious. Momo had long ago gotten used to Olive’s very physical way of loving her friends and shrugged under her best friend’s arm.

“Yep, sorry Baku Baku.” Olive said, grinning pulling Momo closer to her playfully.

“Momo?” Olive said pointing to the girl,

“She’s one of my classmates from high school. She’s a pro, number 5 actually. You, her and the girl talking are all really good friends. There is also June that girl there.”

“Oh, where were you there that night?”

“No that was a girl’s night.”

She nodded looking at the video, “Can we go hang out with them? Would that be weird?”

Bakugou didn’t want to tell her that they had all been asking about her for weeks but he… he kind of wanted to keep her all to himself. Like if he held her close enough maybe he could pretend they were fine. And showing his old classmates what had happened was something that may have happened on his watch.

“I don’t know…” he said slowly.

They hadn’t found much on the mysterious America. He seemed to have disappeared into the wind. While Olive didn’t really go anywhere alone and Bakugou hadn’t seen anything out of the ordinary to suspect he was coming back he still felt overly protective.

Maybe the America thing had just been some weird fluke.

But he had this feeling it wasn’t. Deep down it just didn’t feel right.

And no one from her past life had a querk like that.

He looked over at her. She was looking up at him clutching her phone with wide eyes. She looked so cute like that. “Please? I’m in the best city in the world and I feel like all I do is stay in here and read my own stuff.”

“I’m here” he hadn’t meant it to come out as hurt as it did but. It had.

“And you’ll be there too?” it was posed like a question, he wasn’t sure if that was a language mix up, she kept seeming to do that. Some sort of old bad habit. Maybe it had something to do with living in California. They all talked like they were asking questions.

“I can see if some of the old gang is available. But I doubt Momo will be. She is busy.”

“Mina and Kirishima too?” she asked breaking into a smile. He knew she was really only asking for them because they were the only other names she had seen. Mina had reached out even after Bakugou had told her not too. The two girls had gone back and forth a little bit. Mina’s English was ok and Olive’s Japanese getting better.

“I’ll ask. But don’t get your hopes up.”

“OK!” she giggled excitedly and he felt a sense of dread about it. Anxiety building up slightly at the idea.

“I said don’t get excited.”

“Too late Baku Baku!” she jumped up almost tripping over the blanket still wrapped around her. Instinctively he reached for her but pulled away when he saw her right herself.

“Don’t call me that!” it came out harsher than he meant it too. Force of habit. But glancing over at Olive she was already back on her phone looking through old photos of a girl’s life she had lived but didn’t know anything about. Her feet leading her toward the bedroom. Probably already planning her outfit.

He was going to regret this wasn’t he  

Slowly she stopped in the hallway that split the living room from the other rooms in the apartment. Turning to him she looked at him confused.

“Are you coming to bed?”

His heart lurched at the image. Her all wrapped up in her blanket waiting for him. So familiar it made him want to lunge forward pulling her to him. Press her back to the wall while pushing his body against hers. To wrap himself up around her while she looked up at him with that little playful smile.

Instead, he just stood shoving his hands into his pockets as if that would hold him back. “Whatever, needy,” he mumbled, passing her as he walked toward the bedroom. She giggled watching him before bouncing after him. Like always ignoring his jabs as if she found them endearing.

Guess some things don’t change even if everything else does.

-GET TAGGED-

Master List

Story Tag: @0hmydeku @inumorph @it-jinxed-us @myraticm

[welcometothebookreport]

In 2020, I read 40 books (with maybe a few more to be added after I post this) after discovering my love of reading all over again. I am not a very hard reader to please, so it will be rare for me to rate a book with a low score, so I doubt you’ll ever see any criticism from me. So, here we go!

A few things before I start: There are three series in this list (but technically only two, because I’ve only read Serpent & Dove so far) but I’ve limited myself to no repeat authors. That must have been the hardest part for me. Since Jessi went the extra mile and ranked them in order, I’ve decided to make myself suffer the same. And while most of these were not published in 2020, they were read in 2020.

I am (sometimes) a picky reader, but any book that is on this list, I have loved. I chose not to rate them because honestly, they would have all been high. I give ratings easily, and try not to pick things apart even for books I truly did not like.

Please keep in mind that I do my best to add trigger warnings, but you should always check for certain triggers before reading. Triggers vary for everyone.

10. Saint Anything by Sarah Dessen

Warnings: There’s a male character that’s a creep and you’ll spot him as soon as you crack this one open. This tale deals with Peyton being sentenced to prison, and their mother practically glossing over what he’s done by victim blaming.

I have read Dessen’s books since I was 13 and I truly still enjoy her stories as much as I did then. While this was a re-read for me, it’s a tie for my favorite book of hers. It’s tied with Along For the Ride.

Sydney is left in the aftermath after her older brother, Peyton, is sentenced to prison after a drunk driving accident that paralyzes a boy. Formerly in his shadow, Sydney struggles to discover what it is she wants, and how she wants to be seen as her own mother seems to gloss right over her. It’s a YA read that always feels like more than the romance that originally interested me.

9.  Serpent & Dove by Shelby Mahurin

Warnings: Misogyny. The church and religion plays an extremely heavy part of this plot, which was hard for me to get into. It’s clear that some characters do not value women in their actions and words toward Lou. It made me uncomfortable in spots because I just wanted to get past it, but I plan to read this one again since I know that it won’t bother me this time! Still, there is: violence in parts, religious zealots (in case that’s something that makes you uncomfortable like it did me), derogatory slurs toward women, and again, misogyny.

I finished this one two days ago, and I sincerely cannot wait to dig into the sequel. Lou is a witty, snappy character that was such a breath of fresh air from the normal. You usually see the male lead that’s a bit crude, a bit quick to pull the trigger, and the one that’s harder to crack. Is that what happened here? Absolutely fucking not. Shelby Mahurin took something I loved, enemies to lovers, and kicked its ass. Forced marriage? UM YES. A witch and a witch-hunter? Mortal enemies? Characters that can never possibly love each other? DONE DONE DONE.

It’s hilarious in parts. Serious when it needs to be. A bit spicy too, while not a lot, which I certainly appreciate. Reid’s character development is a wonder to watch, at least for me, and by the end of the book, I am so in love with him that I don’t know what to do with myself. I have so many annotations for this novel.

8. The Shadows Between Us by Tricia Levenseller

Warnings: There’s a fair bout of murder. Women are expected not to take lovers before marriage while men are not held to the same standard. Gross. Allessandra is continually underestimated so let me say: let the women do the work.

It’s called the Slytherin romance we’ve been waiting for, and I agree. While this is a shorter read, and a standalone, I was pleased with it. Both characters are incredibly ambitious, but it’s Allessandra that steals the show. The plan? To enter the palace, woo the king, and then kill him in order to take his kingdom. She’s wicked in all the ways I love.

I loved this book, and each page, but this was the line that will make me return to it: “I’m not a trollop,” I announce to the empty room. “I’m a sexually empowered woman, and there’s nothing wrong with that.”

The Folk of the Air Series by Holly Black

Warnings: Aside from murder, there’s nothing that stands out to me as a trigger.

A series! The first! There’s something interesting about this series for me, and it’s that I didn’t fall in love altogether, all at once. It was gradual, like wading into water until it went right over my head. By the final fourth of The Cruel Prince, I was fully invested in this world and I absolutely needed to know how Jude and Cardan would become, well, Jude and Cardan.

As a YA series, I was not expecting the sheer amount of mystery, political intrigue, and plot twists that came with this series. However, I never knew what was going to happen, and if I did guess what was coming, Black had at least two more twists to send me for a loop. The Queen of Nothing was likely my favorite book of the series, with The Wicked King as a close second.

6. Red, White & Royal Blue by Casey McQuiston

Warnings:  Discussion of attempted non-con assault, forced disclosure of sexuality

I laughed until my eyes watered and I nearly cried in this book. Delightfully funny, and snappy, RW&B delivers on everything I didn’t know that I needed. I had never read a book where LGBTQ was represented in such a positive light. As someone raised in a more conservative household, I’ve known my own sexual orientation for a long time, but this book made me feel like I could relax in my skin because this story was stunning.

Alex and Henry left me with so much hope that it’s impossible to ever put the lid back on. I’m so happy I read this.

(oh, god, we’re in the final five.)

5. The Caraval Series by Stephanie Garber

Warnings: Physical and emotional child abuse.

I could dedicate multiple posts to this series. Maybe I still will. While this is at number five, it’s my favorite series I’ve ever read. If I could only have one series to read for the rest of my life, I would choose this one. Hands down. Full stop. These characters live in my head constantly and I would give an obscene amount of things to read it all over again for the first time. I actually read this with two of my closest friends in our many book club, and we all loved it.

Doused in magic, this world is unveiled to us with excellent descriptions. Truly, Garber owned my heart within a few chapters. Scarlett is the elder sister, Tella the younger, and if you don’t love Tella by the end of Caraval, I promise you will. I know because I was skeptical, but here I am. I’ve said it to my friends, but Scarlett is the one who holds my hair while I have a hangover. Tella is the one that helps me start the bar fight.

With non-stop turns, and magic, everything comes to life on these pages. And the romance, the romance. Please, please give me my great love in this style. It’s not too much to ask for, is it?

4. Letters to the Lost by Brigid Kemmerer

Warnings:  loss of sibling, loss of parent, alcoholism, mention of infidelity, mentions of previous physical and emotional child abuse.

Mae sent this recommendation to me, and I devoured all of Kemmer’s books post-haste. Declan and Juliet fall in love without knowing who the other is, while also not liking the real version of their penpal. Juliet has lost her mother, and she’s treading water, but not well. Declan has suffered in the years that follow a family tragedy, and he’s not adapting to life with his new step-father.

But he opens with CemetaryGirl (Juliet) and it’s raw in the best of ways, and the openness between them that eventually moves from their bubble to reality is one of the most pleasing things to read. I’ve read it twice this year. I will read it again next year too.

I also read this twice this year and will for sure be reading it again in 2021.

3. The Night Circus by Erin Morgenstern

Warnings: Child abuse.

This was another novel that I fell in love with as I went, and that’s definitely because of the non-linear narrative. It was a little confusing, but I’m going to read it again someday since I know everything now! I read this to follow-up to Caraval with my book club pals, and it’s just what I needed to leave Caraval behind. Marco and Celia are incredible and I absolutely believe that the ending of this novel is one of the best endings I’ve ever read.

My book club has not finished this book entirely this so I’m not sharing any spoilers, but I would like to share one of my favorite quotes. “What did you wish for?” “I wished for her.”

2. Next Year in Havana by Chanel Cleeton

Warnings: Cuba is in the middle of a revolution, and it’s tense in parts. There are some bittersweet elements and I think the parts of the ending are like the punch in the gut you need in order to wake you up and remember to live.

This was my first read once I really dug back into this hobby in August. It was picked by Reese Witherspoon for her book club, and she always picks good books. This is a dual timeline romance, and mystery. It’s an absolute stunner of a book. It’s a dear favorite to me now. I’ve never been to Cubs, or heard stories, but Cleeton manages to make you feel like you’re right there feeling saltwater spray across your face.

The romance made me feel breathless, but truly it’s the strong familial ties that make this such a beautiful gem. It leaves you with hope even in the dark and with love in the absence of it. I could scream about this book for the rest of my life, which I absolutely intend to do.

Favorite line? “You’re going to be difficult to walk away from, aren’t you?” “I hope so.”

1 In A Holidaze by Christina Lauren

Warnings? There are none that strike me. This is a lighthearted read that pulls at the heartstrings, but it’s by no means short on the laughs. And, I’m sorry for the long wall of text below.

In A Holidaze is the story of a woman stuck in her ways of never going after what she truly wants until a stray wish lands her in a time loop over the holidays. It's only after repeating the same day a few times that she quite literally says "fuck this," and starts living for HER. I really expected this to just be a Hallmark kind of read, but it was SO MUCH MORE. You should read it, even if it's after the holidays.

It's witty, and heart-wrenching, and it's just everything I didn't know I needed. Mae is snarky, and brave when she figures out that there is nothing stopping her, and the romance is - GODDAMN. Andrew. I need an Andrew and a fan.

It's not quite a love triangle, which was what I expected and I was so pleasantly surprised. I have grinned like a goddamn fool all day. I have giggled all day in front of customers, and my co-workers. I have nearly CRIED in my bedroom when my heart fell out of my ass and landed somewhere near my ankles, because hello, it's gonna get you.

This is going on my yearly re-read list for the holidays.

In the two days since I’ve finished, I’ve convinced my two friends in book club to read it, convinced Jessi to order it from Book of the Month Club, convinced another friend to read it, and bought it for Mae on Christmas day because her library had a six month hold and that was simply unacceptable.

[havethetimeeofyourlifee]

Heaven

Hi everyone! So this is my first ever story that I’m publishing on here and I’m very nervous about it, so be nice!!! Please let me know how you liked it!

SMUT

I got really lucky when it came to your university schedule.  Most people I knew had to go every single day and most of their classes staggered in time, so they spent endless hours on campus, but I only had to go twice a week and started at 8 in the morning, so I was able to be home before dinner.  It was nice because I was still able to work on the days I wasn’t on campus and I was able to see Harry a lot more than last semester.  

After my last class ended, I went straight home in hopes that Harry would be back from the studio and ready to give me the attention I had been craving all day.   Entering our house, I was welcomed by the heartwarming sight of my long-term boyfriend standing at the kitchen counter putting his finishing touches on a roast he must’ve been cooking all day.  He was clad in a pair of dark wash jeans that clung to him in all the right places without being too form fitting and a ratty, old band tee that was starting to thin due to being washed too many times was tucked into the trousers.  I tried to make a quiet entrance, but my plan was foiled when I tripped over Harry’s shoes that he must’ve kicked off the second he walked in the door.

“Love?” He turned quickly, startled by my clumsiness.

“Didn’t mean to scare you.” I responded, picking up his shoes and putting them on the shelf where they were supposed to go.  I put my own shoes next to his and hung my coat on the hook and my purse on the floor before finally entering the kitchen.  The smile that erupted on Harry’s face warmed my heart and I couldn’t help but reciprocate that smile.

“’M so happy you’re home, love. Missed ya all day.”  It was a simple response, but it made my heart beat a little faster as he walked around the table and wrapped me in hug.  My face was buried in his neck, inhaling his scent and letting it engulf my senses. A wave of comfort and familiarity washed over me and I hugged him a little tighter around the waist before we broke apart and Harry’s nose brushed over mine softly before he placed a chaste kiss on my lips.

“Made dinner for ya. One of those roast things you’ve been lookin’ up recipes for online.  Called mum to ask her ‘bout ‘em.  She said she already gave ya some secrets when ya called her last week and wouldn’t share ‘em with me too cuz it was a secret.” His confession made me smile up at him and nod once before stepping away.

“It’s not my fault your mother loves me more than you, H.” I teased her.  He chuckled quietly before turning and placing two plates down at the table with the most delicious looking roast I had ever seen.  

“We bothknow that’s actually true, love.  No point in rubbin’ it in now, is there?”  We both laughed together as he pulled my chair out for me, letting me sit and take in the wonderful dinner he had prepared for me, all on his own.

“Looks lovely, Harry. Thank you for doing this for me.” The sincerity in my voice made him shiver and I could tell from across the table.  He just smiled back at me and looked down at his plate to try and cover up the blush that was dusting his cheeks now.  

The meal was delicious and Harry’s ego seemed to get bigger every time I told him so.  He was a man who loved being complimented, so I did it as often as I could.  I collected the plates and put them in the sink, rolling my sleeves up to wash them before we settled down for the evening, but Harry grabbed my hands before I could pick up the sponge and led me into the living room.  

“Dishes can wait, love. Missed ya today, I told ya so.” He was being needy and I loved it. Usually I thought I was a clingy girlfriend and that eventually Harry would realize how annoying I was and would dump me, but he found it endearing I guess, because it’s been three and a half years and he still enjoys my company.  Tells me so as much as he can.  

Harry gently pulled my hand, making me follow him into the living room and onto the couch with him. My feet skimmed across the plush carpet of the area rug before I slid next to Harry and snuggled into his side, relaxing instantly.  The fireplace had already been turned on and the small crackle noise that radiated from it sent a wave of comfort over me as well.  Harry’s hand was tracing imaginary patterns on the exposed skin on my side from where my skirt rode up when I sat down.  

“You know what would make this better?” I asked Harry, turning my head to look at his beautiful face. His green eyes boring into my own before I saw something mischievous flicker in them.

“Sex.” He deadpanned, making me snort and smack him playfully in the chest.

“No, you knobhead.  I was going to say wine.  A nice, big glass of wine.”  I rolled my eyes playfully at him and he rolled his back before standing up and making his way into the kitchen to get a glass for the both of us.  

“Your majesty.” He teased as he handed me a large wine glass filled over halfway.  I smiled back and gave him a loving peck on the cheek before he sat back down next to me.  The next half hour or so was filled with a comfortable silence as we sipped on our wine and just sat in each other’s company by the fire.  It was a reassuring thing for me.  Sometimes I just felt a need to do absolutely nothing with this man, because he made them all exciting.  

I knew it was time to start heading up to bed when his hand started creeping higher up on my waist. My shirt was bunched up and sitting under my bra and he rubbed my back in its entirety.  I unfolded my legs and placed my now empty wine glass on the coffee table to be cleaned up in the morning and reached for Harry’s glass to do the same.  Once they were both empty and soundly placed awake from anywhere we could knock them over, I grabbed his hand and led him up the stairs to our bedroom.  

We moved in almost perfect harmony as we entered the bedroom.  The nightly routine was something I cherished and needed.  At the beginning of our relationship, Harry was on tour and I spent endless nights alone in his old apartment just counting the days until he would be home with me again, holding me tight and letting me fall asleep on his chest.  I made my way toward the en suite bathroom, brushing my hair out, washing my face and brushing my teeth all before I went to pee.  Harry walked while I was on the toilet and just smiled at me.  I smiled back, but knitted my eyebrows at the look on his face,

“Can’t a girl pee in peace around here?” I teased him, making sure my knees were touching and bringing my hands down to my lap so he couldn’t see anything.  The same smile graced his face as he grabbed his toothbrush from the cup and wet it before applying the toothpaste.  

“Don’t be getting’ all shy with me now, baby love.  Ya know ‘m gonna wreck ya in justa coupla minutes.” His eyes locked with mine in the mirror and I could feel my cheeks getting warm.  I had to look away from the glorious man in front of me who had already taken his shirt off before coming to wash up.  

On my walk out of the bathroom, I couldn’t help myself and I ended up stopping to wrap my arms around Harry’s naked torso.  My hands ran up and down his back and my head rested on his spine.  I placed a few gentle kisses on the muscles I felt contracting while he brushed his teeth and then stole a shy glance over her shoulder before leaving one last peck on his shoulder before reaching around and gently squeezing him through his boxers.  He groaned and his head tilted back when I left a loving bite on his shoulder. I unwrapped myself from him and giggled to myself while I walked over to our bed and stripping down to my panties and throwing the shirt Harry had worn today over my body.  

The comforter was pulled back already so I slid into bed and nestled into my side, waiting anxiously for Harry to finally put his money where his mouth is.  My cheeks were already flushed from the wine, but now that I was turned on from simply thinking about what Harry would do to me, I knew my chest was most likely tinged with pink as well.  

It didn’t take long for Harry to finish up in the bathroom and make his way over to me on the bed.  His eyes were filled with arousal and his boxers had tightened considerable from when I grabbed his junk minutes prior.  I gave him a mischievous smile and pulled the rest other side of the comforter back for him.  Harry grabbed it from me and folded down to the end of the bed, which is what we did whenever we had sex because honestly, the comforter was hard to wash and I always complained when we had sex under it because it would get all sweaty and stinky.  

“Gonna be a good girl fo’ me tonight?” Harry all but slurred.  His voice got deeper and slower when he was turned on, which turned me on more. My head nodded at him, but I had no control over my own body in that moment.  The picture perfect man in front of me blurred my vision and clouded my mind. I watched him remove his boxers before he grabbed my legs and repositioned me so I was completely on my back with my legs parted slightly.  His hardened cock had slapped against his stomach and left a small trace of sticky, wet reside behind that glistened in the light coming from the lamp on the bedside table. He was terribly hard at this point and I was going to do everything in my power to satisfy this man.  

“H,” I breathed out, stopping him from parting my legs, where I knew in just a matter of seconds, he was going to have me wreathing uncontrollably underneath him.  He looked up at my lust filled eyes and licked his lips, but his eyebrows knitted together in confusion on why I stopped him. “Let me pleasure you, baby.” I finished, reaching my hands up toward his face so I could fix the hair on his forehead and then play with the longer, shaggy hair at the back of his neck.  He leaned down to hover closer over me and nestle his head into my neck, leaving wet kisses in his wake.  His hands worked diligently to rid me of his old shirt and started to play with the band of my panties.

“Let me taste ya, love.” He moaned into my neck, making my toes curl as I gave his hair a particularly rough tug.  

“Ladies first.” I shot back, pushing at his chest so he would get off of me so I could pleasure him. He hit the mattress with a groan and I wiggled my way out of my panties finally and crawled on walked on my knees to situate myself over his hips.  My bare center was pressed firmly onto his taunt stomach and I could feel it flex underneath me in anticipation.  One of my hands was placed on his butterfly tattoo as I swiveled my hips to tease not only myself, but Harry as well.  

“’f ya keep doin’ tha’, love, ‘m gonna cum ‘fore I even get in ya.”  He was struggling to even form sentenced, the veins in his neck were protruding wildly and his hands had a death grab on the sheets underneath him as I continued my attack on his body.  My hips were moving faster and my hair was falling out of the bun I had it in, I could tell.  I made one miscalculated movement and I felt my center brush over the tip of his cock and before I could try and get back to what I had been doing, Harry had me pinned back down underneath him and his fingers were checking me to make sure I was wet enough for him to enter me.  We both knew I was, but he still checked every single time and it made my heart soar.  

“’Nough messin’ about, love! ‘m gonna show ya who’s really in charge.”  His eyes were dark and I was reduced to a puddle of moans and groans as two of his fingers entered me and his other hand held my waist down so I couldn’t move.  I reached down to grab him and lead him to where we both wanted him to be most and Harry didn’t complain one bit.  He pushed my legs apart and left one last searing kiss on my lips before he sank into me.  The moan he released into my neck was animalistic and I didn’t feel like I could even control my own body.  I wrapped on of my legs around his waist and applied pressure to his ass so he would sink in deeper.  

“Move! H, baby, you gotta move!” I cried out as he stayed seated in me fully, just barely swiveling his hips, teasing me the way I had done him.  I pulled frantically at his hair again as I pulled his face to mine and we met in a searing kiss.  Our tongues moved in tandem for what felt like years before Harry left me with a bite on my lower lip before he pulled out almost all the way before thrusting back into me with great force.  My head lulled backward and rested on the pillow below me as I moaned out his name.

What started out rough, soon turned into loving as we made eye contact and Harry rested his forehead against my own.  Your hips move together in an easy rhythm and all you could really focus on was how his cock stretched you so perfectly.  You could feel him everywhere.  His teeth dragging along your neck, his cock pushing so deep into you, you were starting to see stars, and now, to top it all off, his fingers moved to tweak your nipples and relinquish all the power you thought you had.  You were putty in his hands.  

“Gonna cum fo’ me, love? Gonna be a good girl and cum all over this cock o’ yours?”  His hot breath was fanning over your neck as he moved one of your legs up to rest higher on his hip so he could reach deeper into you. You screamed out when he perfectly hit that spot deep inside you that always made you snap.  Your head started nodding quickly to tell him you were going to cum soon and his hips picked up speed.  A groan from somewhere deep in Harry’s throat made itself known and made you clench around his as he continued his attack on you.  

“I’m so close, H.” The confession startled him, but he nodded his head quickly and moved his hand down to my clit, massaging it with his calloused fingers, applying all the right pressure. My head fell back and my back arched as I felt myself start to spiral.  Harry was chanting words of encouragement as I felt myself snap and my vision turned white as I collapsed back on the bed.  Harry was still terribly hard, but waiting patiently for me to settle so it wouldn’t be too much for me.  His lips were leaving sweet kisses up my shoulder and over my neck, on a mission to lick at my sweet spot.  My hips rose to let inform Harry he could move again so he could finish himself off and after a few thrusts, I could tell he was about to release.

“Where do you want it, love?” he panted, his thrusts becoming sloppy as the pleasure was becoming too much for him.  The love and sincerity in his voice filled my body with warmth.  His eyes found mine and I pulled him impossibly closer as I just nodded my head to egg him on.

“Cum in me, Harry.  I need you to fill me up.”  My confession was all he needed to finish him off.  He thrust his hips particularly deep inside of me before releasing all he had to give.  My toes curled at the feeling of his cum soaking my walls and filling me to the brim.  

Harry collapsed on top of me, completely spent from all the pleasure that just rushed through his body. I massaged my fingered through his hair and left delicate kisses on his neck before he fell over onto his back and dragged me on top of him.  He pulled his cock out of me and we both moaned in unison at the feeling.  I felt his cum dripping out of me and onto the sheets below us, but I couldn’t get myself to care at all in that moment.  My fingers played with the splatter of chest hair that was currently matted onto his chest as our legs mingled together under the comforter that Harry reached down to pull over our naked bodies.  I snuggled into his warmth as he played absentmindedly with my hair and traced imaginary lines up and down my naked body.  

“I love you, you know that, right?” Harry spoke into my hair before leaving a couple kisses in his wake. 

I nodded my head against his chest and hummed before looking up at him and kissing his firmly on the lips.  

This was heaven, I was sure of it.

[lailannajacobs]

Empire of Angels | Part One

Pairing: Bucky x ofc!Amelie Novak

Summary: Amelie Novak moved from New York to Boston to escape a shitty ex and to get a killer story. She just didn’t realize she’d meant that literally. 

Warnings: none! 

Word Count: 4.5k

A/N: Technically this part has already been published under a different name, but it’s been seriously editied and changed with parts added so it’s quite different? Anyways, I’d love to know what you think! <3

Empire of Angels | Part One

“I need someone to go after ex-sergeant James Buchanan Barnes. You ever heard of him, Novak?”

Amelie nodded, but her boss Cary, kept going as if she hadn’t. Typical. It wasn’t like he took her any more seriously than an intern.

“He’s ex-military. Defected five years ago and has been working as a hitman ever since. I’m sure you must have heard of him. If the cops are right, then he’s to blame for over a dozen high profile kills since. I got a source telling me he’s in Boston, ‘bout to hit his next target. I want you to find him and get me killer story before anyone else even thinks about it. And before you say a thing, I know you’re a reporter, not a cop. But this could be huge for the Globe and I need someone on this.”

Like hell she would say anything. Cary was finally giving her a real story. When Amelie had moved - more precisely, run away - to Boston looking for a change, she hadn’t expected to get sidelined. She was a damned good reporter and everyone at the Times knew she was good at her job. So like hell she’d say a thing and ruin her chance at proving to her new employer that she was the best he had.

“Do you know who the intended target is?” She kept her voice clipped, professional like his favourite boys did.

Cary shook his head, “My source wouldn’t say. But I need to know you’re okay with this, Novak. He’s dangerous and cunning, practically a ghost. I don’t want you walking into this expecting peaches and roses like the rest of the stories you cover.”

Amelie almost mentioned that the reason all her other stories had been peaches and roses was because he wouldn’t let her cover anything hard hitting, but nodded instead, afraid to look anything other than absolutely capable.

“It’s no problem. This will be my number one priority. I won’t let you down,” She promised with conviction.

With a curt nod, he waved her out of the office, apparently satisfied. Amelie could barely contain her excitement, and purposefully slowed her walk toward the conference room door. Her curiosity got the best of her before she could walk out.

Glancing over her shoulder as nonchalantly as possible, she asked, “Why me?”

He kept his gaze on the papers he was now leafing through, “They told me when I hired you, that your biggest asset as a reporter is that you’re constantly being underestimated. I figured the best way to get to him was to send someone like you,” He paused and looked up at her, “Am I wrong?”

She shook her head.

“Didn’t think so. Now get to it, Novak. Somehow I doubt he’ll be here for long.”

Amelie left the conference room, unable to wipe the smile from her lips, ignoring the curious looks from her coworkers.

Staring at the computer screen, Amelie finally understood why Cary had sent her after such an important and dangerous story. The dozens of articles she had found on Barnes made it clear that this story Cary wanted her to cover wasn’t something he expected her to succeed at. He didn’t expect anyone to find Barnes at all and hadn’t been about to waste one of his better employees on a fruitless task. She didn’t care. Cary had finally given her a story worth covering and she was sure as hell going to get it done, even if her first thought had been that the police, FBI or even a PI would have been better suited for the job. There was no way she’d turn the job down now. Not when there was no way she could lose. If she got the story, she’d be bringing in one of the biggest stories the Globe had seen in years. If she failed, well, no one expected her to succeed anyways.

Her research on Barnes - otherwise known as the Winter Soldier - had led her to two conclusions. He was extremely dangerous, and he was extremely talented at what he did. And what he did, was take out criminals before anyone even knew that’s what they were. The hit would lead to an investigation, which would then lead to the exposure of skeletons no one knew were hiding in the deceased’s closet. His MO didn’t make any of his vigilante kills any less of a crime, it only meant that getting the story before anyone else would be huge for her and probably save a life in the process. All Amelie had to do was find the scumbag Barnes was targeting before her little hitman found him first.

Get a story, save a life, put an asshat in jail, get promoted. All in that order. That simple.

The problem - the biggest one at the moment - was that no one was able to figure out who Barnes’ next target would be before the body dropped. The deaths appeared random, but she knew it couldn’t be. Anyone who worked as meticulously as the Winter Soldier did had to have a process. Figuring it out would be the key to her success.

Amelie had reached out to other reporters across the country, including an old friend from the Times who had covered the deaths accredited to Barnes, but all anyone could say was that he was ghost.

So, the other major problem was finding him.

But that’s where she came in.

Finding people was something she had always been good at. Although she had never figured out how exactly, Amelie had an uncanny ability to be at the right place at the right time. Trusting that gut feeling had never steered her wrong in the past, and she wasn’t about to doubt it now. Any reporter could follow up on a lead and dig up dirt. But not every reporter had her instincts. Amelie had to believe that it was what was going to put her ahead of the dozen or so journalists who had gone up against the Winter Soldier in the past.

Her printer spat out a photo of the sergeant’s military ID, the most recent photograph she could find of him. She didn’t doubt he looked nothing like the picture. The cropped dark hair and clean-shaven face were probably long gone, and she had to assume that, like the security cameras unable to get a clear image of him, she wouldn’t recognize the man from the picture. The only saving grace was that she had never seen ocean coloured eyes so striking, even on a low quality, home printed scrap piece of paper. She figured she’d recognize them if - when - she met his gaze.

The military uniform and crooked grin seemed at odds with the infamous hitman she was hunting, but Amelie knew that dangerous men came in all shapes and sizes. The facts were that this man had killed almost a dozen high profile businessmen and politicians in the past five years and that each hit was in a largely public area, creating mass chaos, which was, if she had to guess, his escape route.

Scoping out Boston’s most popular public areas was where she would start. Tomorrow. She wouldn’t be able to find him running on half a muffin she’d had for supper and little to no sleep. Resting and getting her things in order was her priority. Tomorrow it would be the Winter Soldier.

* * * * *

Amelie wandered through Quincy Market among families decked out in Celtic’s green, ready for the night’s big game against the Raptors. The town square was alive with laughter and shouting, one of the last warm, autumn days brightening everyone’s mood. She let herself get stopped by tourists asking for directions, wandered into a coffee shop and popped into gift shops, looking to send her New York friends and family a little sign that she was adapting to just fine. No one had really understood her move from the New York Times to the Boston Globe, but then again, none of them had dated Brian for as long as she had. The only exception had wished her well and sent her off with an understanding smile. One of these trinkets was for them.

Every ball cap in sight caught her attention, though none hid incredible blue eyes under the lid. It was a gamble on her part to assume that he’d be wearing one, but the best way to get through a crowd, antsy for tonight’s game, was to blend in. And judging by the amount of ball caps in her five-foot radius alone, the odds were in her favour that she’d find him under one. Her instincts had gotten her this far. She wasn’t about to start doubting them during what was probably the most important story of her career.

Before she could decide where to wander to next, she was thrown to the ground, pain searing through her wrists. Where the hell that basketball had come from was beyond her, and she pushed herself back up, wincing as the assailant rolled away.

“I’m so sorry miss, are you all right?”

Amelie took in a deep breath and forced a cheery laugh, “I’m fine. Happens to the best of us. Let’s just hope none of that happens to our team tonight, right?”

The washed-out looking man in a stretched thin jersey picked up the ball and handed it back to his son. The man smiled, most likely pleased by her kind smile, cheery attitude and the fact that she wasn’t chewing his son out for his pathetic aim. They always were. Nice was usually seen as a weakness. Nice was never looked at twice. But underestimated and forgotten were some of the reason Amelie was able to do her job so well.

He finished with another apology and a slightly creepy wink before whisking his son away. She wanted to roll her eyes but kept her well practice act in place, keeping her gaze trained on them as they wandered through the crowd. That was when she spotted someone far more important behind them. The cap, which was what had immediately caught her attention, was a dumb choice on his part. The navy colour only brought out his eyes, which had made him that much easier to spot.

Amelie grinned.

It was time to pay her little hitman a visit.

She wove through the crowd with purpose, keeping an eye on her target. Stalking him wouldn’t do any good. She could do that later if need be. Right now, he was probably hyper aware of people trying to tail him, and less wary of people actually trying to talk to him. The latter was exactly what she planned on doing.

Amelie knew she shouldn’t have been feeling anything other than fear, but this was what she had come to Boston for. A fresh start and a killer story. All she could feel was the adrenaline coursing through her veins, her senses coming alive. It didn’t matter that she was tailing an accomplished hitman. She was damn good at her job. She could do this.

When she got close enough, she tapped on his shoulder, “Hi! I’m a reporter from the Globe’s sports section and we’re conducting a survey to see who’s watching the game tonight and where. Mind if I ask you a couple questions?”

He turned around, brows furrowed, and eyes narrowed as if surprised to have been spotted in the first place.

“No,” He answered gruffly, striding off.

Amelie hurried after him, “Technically no means you don’t mind!”

He kept walking.

“Please,” She begged, “I’m never going to be taken seriously if I can’t even get this silly task done. I, like, really, really, really want to be promoted to fashion. I’m sooo done with sports. Please, can you just answer this one tiny little question for me?”

He sighed, but thankfully stopped, “If you want to be taken seriously then lose the ditsy attitude.”

Rude.

“I’m asking you a question, not asking you to act like an as-” She cut herself off, cursing the slip in her act. She was better than that.

“That’s better,” He smirked, “You get one question.”

Amelie couldn’t roll her eyes at him, no matter how much she wanted to. The last thing she needed was an attitude that drew attention to herself or flagged her as threatening or even suspicious. He had asked her to drop the ditsy attitude, but that was the last thing she intended on doing. A cheery woman, somehow stuck doing an article for the sports section was exactly who she would be because that was the woman her hitman wouldn’t have a second thought about after they parted ways.

“If you’re watching the game tonight, are you watching at the Garden, at a bar, or at home?”

His face was the perfect image of boredom. Amelie couldn’t help but wonder if he practiced it in the mirror every morning.

“I see why you don’t want to keep asking these questions.”

“I’m glad you agree,” She answered dryly, unable to help herself.

He kept his blue eyes solely on her, which meant he wasn’t looking out for someone else. He obviously didn’t want to be here answering questions - the way he kept all his weight on his toes made Amelie think he was going to take off at any second - but he didn’t appear to be in a rush to get somewhere else either. Whoever his target was, he or she wasn’t here. Either that meant that her hitman had been fed false information or he was scouting a location rather than looking for a person in particular. Amelie had to bet on the former. It wasn’t much of a clue, but it was something.

“Let me guess,” She returned to the perky act, hoping she could get a solid answer out of him this time, “You seem like the kind of guy who would go to a bar to watch the game.”

He narrowed his eyes and her stomached knotted. This wasn’t how she wanted him to be looking at her. Amelie leaned even further into the act, widening her smile. She couldn’t slip up when she was so close to an answer.

He sighed. If he had been suspicious, he had quickly dismissed her as a threat, “Is that your way of trying to prove your journalistic instincts?”

“Is that your way of evading the question?” She countered.

“Maybe,” He smirked, a dangerous quirk of his mouth that sent her pulse racing, “How about you?”

“Maybe.”

Amelie held that piercing blue gaze, refusing to be the one to back down first. Arching a brow in a silent challenge, she waited with her arms crossed over her chest.

“Yes,” He conceded, “I’ll be watching in a bar tonight.”

She let out a sigh of relief, “Thank you! See, was that so hard?”

He snorted and walked off without another word.

“Have a nice day!” He called after him with fake chipper, muttering asshole beneath her breath.

Barnes didn’t turn around - not that she expected him to - and she watched him go until he was out of sigh. Hopefully, she was already out of his mind.

The game didn’t start for another couple hours, which gave her time to figure out which bars were playing the game tonight. Amelie had been disappointed when he hadn’t said he’d be watching the game at the Garden. A stadium was a hell of a lot easier to canvas than all the bars in Boston. She couldn’t even be certain that he was telling the truth - odds were that he wasn’t. Fortunately, Amelie’s gut feeling told her the opposite. Rude hitman didn’t necessarily mean liar.

Another sigh escaped her lips, the adrenaline wearing off. It had been risky giving herself away, but she banked on the fact that not many people, especially someone to small compared to him, would knowingly approach a wanted hitman. She had incorporated as much truth into her lie to make it as credible as possible and just had to hope that he wouldn’t check up on her.

The thought should have scared her, but it didn’t. Barnes was nothing like the articles described him as, and quite frankly, the only adjectives she would have used to described him were grumpy and rude. The man she’d just met was nothing like the terror described in the other articles. She didn’t know if her reaction made her stupid or brave. Maybe it was neither considering that no-one else had actually gotten close to him.

Not wanting to tail him all afternoon and most likely alert him to her presence, she decided to go home and get some more research done. It wasn’t going to be easy trying to find him tonight, but Amelie had always considered herself as someone who was lucky. She could get Barnes, but she was also going to need a little luck on her side tonight. 

* * * * *

Amelie had tried five different bars before finally finding him in a pub known for its connection with the Irish Mob. Her feet were sore, someone had spilt a drink on her lap at bar number two when the Celtics had scored, and it had taken an extra fifty just to convince the bouncer to let her in, but it was worth it.

She’d found him.

Finally.

The whole process of trying to find him had taken up so much of her energy that she’d forgotten to actually plan what she wanted to do when he found him. Not wanting to do something stupid, she did nothing. She’d somehow found a seat at the bar, despite the packed Friday night crowd, close enough so that she could see him but far enough away not to attract any unwanted attention. The pub was just as noisy as every other place she’d been at, drunken cheers and insults being shouted at the televisions sporadically. Amelie ordered another beer, still not sure what to do. Without a gut feeling to tell her what to do, she sipped away, keeping tabs on him from time to time. That was, until he wasn’t there anymore.

Cursing herself for being so sloppy, she downed the beer and pushed off the seat, only to run into a broad chest in a red henley and a dark leather jacket. She didn’t have to tilt her head back to know she was face to face - face to chest? - with the exact mad she was looking for. His narrowed eyes probably meant that their running into each other wasn’t accidental or a good thing.

She smiled.

He dipped his head, breath hot on her ear when he growled, “Sit down.”

Her eyes widened in the nonexistent fear she should have felt and followed his order while he slid into the free seat on her right. Barnes ordered a drink, not saying anything as they waited for the barman to come back with his beer. He probably hoped to ramp up her supposed fear by letting her stew, but it only succeeded in giving her time to think of a way out without killing her chance at getting this story. She had to give him credit though. She figured most people would have been afraid. But he had no idea that she wasn’t most people.  

“Who are you?” He demanded after the bartender had moved on.

“Oh! Right! You didn’t get my name earlier. I promise I’m not stalking you or anything, it’s purely personal,” Amelie could tell the sweetness in her voice had thrown him off guard, so she continued, laying it on even thicker, “It’s not every day I get to interview someone so… handsome, you know. I just thought that if I can into you tonight then-”

“Who are you?” He repeated, cutting her off with a cold look.

Obviously, manners weren’t his thing.

She forced a giggle even if it was getting harder to keep up the charade. What she wanted to do was shake him and tell him that manners were for everyone, including international hitmen, but she looked away for a second as if embarrassed.

She extended her hand, “Amelie Novak.”

He looked at it as though it might bite him, but he summoned all of his dangerous, brooding bravery and took it, “I wasn’t expecting such a firm grip.”

She shot him a pointed look, filling in the unspoken words, “From someone so ditzy?”

Amelie couldn’t help it. His condescending attitude made it impossible not to want to answer in the same tone. She needed to get her act together. Now. In the last five years, she had never broken character on the job, and now, she had twice in the same day. She reminded herself what was on the line if she slipped up and shot him another smile.

He let out something that might have been a laugh, if hitmen did indeed laugh. Judging by the looks of him, it wasn’t something he did all that often. At least no in from of other people. Or ever.

He stood, “I’m flattered by your…interest, but I have to go. If you’re lucky, some overgrown frat boy will come in a take my place. Seems more your type anyway, sweetheart.”

Amelie smiled through gritted teeth, holding it in place until he was no longer looking at her.

“I tried that,” She muttered when he was too far to hear, thinking of Brian, “Didn’t work out.”

Ordering another drink, she followed him out with her eyes, waiting to see what he would do next. After having seen her twice in the same day, she couldn’t tail him. There was nothing left for her to do. Or at least, that’s what she thought before realizing that he was following someone else out of the bar; someone Amelie very much recognized. And if that man was her hitman’s target, then all she had to do was find that man’s dirty little secrets. Fast.

She pulled out her phone. There was only one person she could count on to get the kind of information she needed and who could get it to her before the night was over.

* * * * *

“What do you got for me?” Amelie perched on the corner of Detective Sam Wilson’s desk and flicked the Paul Pierce bobble head.

He barely spared her a glance, focused on the document on his computer screen, “Nice to see you too, Novak.”

She sighed, “Come on, Wilson, you know I’m not one for pleasantries.”

“You were when we first met,” He pointed out, typing away.

“That was when I thought I could get something from you that way,” She grinned, “Turns out you were a lot less gullible than I thought.”

He pushed back from his desk, chair rolling far enough that he could extend his legs, “I should’ve encouraged manners. A simple how are you would have been nice.”

“Fine, fine,” She rolled her eyes, “How are you, Wilson? How was your day?”

“I’m fine, Novak,” He smirked, “How are you?”

“Hoping to be better once I hear what you’ve got.”

He crossed his arms, “What made you start looking into this guy anyways?”

There was no need to tell him that she’d just gone toe to toe with an international hitman, so she simply said, “I got a hunch.”

He raised a brow, “A hunch, huh?”

“Yeah,” She nodded, knowing he was too good a cop for her to risk lying even more to him, “A hunch.”

“You should have been a detective, Novak,” He chuckled, “I think you missed your calling.”

She laughed, “I never could have passed those physical tests. But I’m assuming that you found something if you’re telling me this?”

He nodded, eyes bright.

She leaned forward, “What is it?”

“Oh, you know, police business.”

She nodded, “Of course, police business.”

“I’m going to the bathroom. My computer’s been having trouble lately and won’t seem to shut off,” He winked, standing, “You’ll be gone when I’m back.”

“Yup.”

He put a hand on her shoulder, “Sorry I couldn’t be of more help, Novak.”

“No problem, Wilson, I understand,” She grinned and whispered, “Thank you. I owe you. Next time I’ll come bearing coffee.”

He pulled back, “It better be one of those fancy coffees.”

“Obviously,” She hopped off his desk, watching him leave.

“With cinnamon,” He called over his shoulder.

Amelie bounced onto Sam’s chair and stared at the document he’d left open. Her excitement built as the words for her article began to string themselves together in her mind.

* * * * *

The article had gone viral. Hers. Amelie Novak’s. Cary, after having cursed her out for banging on his home door at midnight, actually smiled after reading it. It had managed to get enough press that even her friends in New York had heard about it. Thinking about it still made her giddy, even days later. God, she loved her job.

The man, a corrupt CEO working with the Irish Mob, had been placed in protective custody, despite his white-collar crimes. Putting him in jail was too dangerous, a prison too flimsy for a good hitman.

Amelie probably should have felt better about having saved a life, but it was hard to feel proud when the made she’d save was a grade A scumbag. Among other crimes, he’d stolen from hundreds of families in the area and hurt so many other people through his connections with the Mob and those were only the crimes Wilson had been able to dig up overnight. Since then, other crimes had surfaced and all her articles since then had been recaps of the cops’ investigation.

Fumbling with her keys, her grip slipped on her grocery bags and she scrambled to get into her apartment without dropping anything. The place was dark, the late evening light gone long before she had left the office and the city lights barely poking thought the cracks between the adjacent buildings.

The light switch was too high to reach with the weight of the five-pound sack of potatoes in one hand and the jug of milk in the other, so she wandered blindly into the kitchen of her new studio apartment.

“I’d have to say, I’m impressed.”

Amelie shrieked, almost dropping the bags again. Her heart pounding her chest as if it was begging her to leave, but she didn’t move or turn on the lights. She didn’t need to. Amelie recognized the voice.

Sergeant James Buchanan Barnes, professional hitman, the Winter Soldier himself, was in her kitchen, and he was most definitely trespassing.

[monstersandmaw]

Modern orc boy x female reader (nsfw)

Edit which I’m including in all my works after plagiarism and theft has taken place: I do not give my consent for my works to be used, copied, published, or posted anywhere. They are copyrighted and belong to me.

So this idea came up a few days ago, namely that a big boy in a grey suit was spotted, and it sparked the idea for an orc in a suit. I cannot resist an orc in a suit, and wrote this! He was given the name Dragh by the person who sent in the original ask, and I have their permission to post it and tag them now! So, @slashersheadcannoandimagines I hope you enjoy your idea in a story!

This one hasn’t been previewed on my Patreon, unlike literally all other big stories that get posted on here, because it’s for/inspired by someone on here. I realise it’s also been a while since I’ve posted anything. I’ve been in creative hibernation for a while, but I’m slowly emerging. Anyway, here’s 4.5k words of tattooed orc boy, running a sophisticated vineyard! Featuring satyr bestie, a half-orc half-sister, a blue-haired tiefling, a centaur, and a lilac-skinned goblin, all of whom I need to write stories of their own for one day!

___

“So… my friend runs this gorgeous vineyard out in the country, and they do wine tastings and stuff…”

“Yes,” you said slowly, drawing out the vowel and feeling the slow stretch of a smile creep across your lips and light up the corners of your eyes. Tam was always up for an evening of boozing, and honestly, you weren’t exactly one to say no to fun either.

The satyr grinned, knowing he’d got your attention already. “Well, this friend of mine just so happens to be a really big orc…”

You cocked an eyebrow sky wards and folded your arms. “Male orc, by any chance?”

“How did you guess?” Tam grinned cheekily, his curly, nut brown hair quivering as he laughed and shook his head. His thick, knobbly horns curled tightly around his elongated ears, chunky as ram’s horns, and his hooves danced in amusement. 

Currently he was wearing little more than a soft grey hoodie, his caprine lower half bare, the end of the hoodie just crinkling up over the white flash of his tail, and though you were a little more covered up, you were dressed in similarly casual clothes, lounging on your sofa with a glass of wine in your hand at the end of a working week.

“So, just why are you telling me about this massive male orc who runs a vineyard?” you asked, letting the pale liquid swirl around the glass in your hand.

Tam chuckled and spoke more normally again, leaning back against the sofa cushions and tucking his relatively big hooves up beside him. “Dragh had some kind of fancy hen party booked in for tomorrow, but they cancelled on him last minute. He’d got everything prepped and ready to go, but the wedding is called off, and they cancelled. They lost their deposit, and instead of just cutting his losses there, he’s invited a small group of us over to enjoy it all instead.”

“That’s very nice of him,” you said, frowning.

“Yeah, well, that’s Dragh,” Tam snorted. “He’s always been one to treat his friends…”

“How come you’ve never introduced me before?” you asked. “I mean, we’ve been best friends since Uni, and you’re only now thinking of taking me along - obviously with the intention of setting me up with this orc, I might add - after all this time?”

Tam’s pretty face split into a wicked grin. “You never asked if I knew any handsome orc boys!” he laughed. “Besides, I thought I was your one and only…”

“Tam,” you said seriously. “You are about as gay as I am straight.”

He took a sip of his wine and then mimed stabbing himself through the heart. “Alas, woe is me,” he mock-wailed. “I am consigned once again to the role of gay best friend…”

You simply raised your eyebrow at him again and took a deep draw of your wine.

“Honestly, it never really came up. Anyway, you were with Tomas for so long…” he said, his gaze flickering towards you at the mention of your ex. “I know him through a friend. You know, Seymour?”

“Tiefling, long blue hair, more graceful than God?”

“That’s the one and only,” he said, starting to speak even more quickly than usual as his excitement mounted. “I’ll tell him you said that. Anyway, yeah, I know Dragh through Seymour, who actually knows Dragh’s half-sister better than he knows Dragh himself, and now you’ll know him through me. You are coming with me tomorrow, right?”

“Am I invited?” you asked.

“I’m inviting you…”

“Does he know?”

“Sweetheart, if anyone deserves a day of boozing in a fancy vineyard, it’s you,” he said, tossing you a meaningful glance. Your last relationship had ended badly, well over three months ago, and you still found yourself lamenting the large, minotaur-sized gap in your life, but you’d moved on as best you could. It hadn’t been right, and both of you had seen it coming. Still, that didn’t mean it didn’t hurt to end things.

The next morning you picked Tam and Seymour up and drove them about an hour out into the countryside. Rolling, south-facing hills were sparsely dotted with farmhouses, and as the summer sun climbed, you began to relax a little, leaving the stress of the city behind.

Seymour was tall and almost silent, but he allowed Tam to natter away at him in the back seat while you wound the window down and inhaled great lungfuls of the fresh air. Yes, it was nice to be out of the city. Perhaps you did need a change of scene after all. Dammit, Tam was always right…

You’d picked your nicest summer dress, though you remained perhaps a little self conscious about the curve of your hips and the extra weight you’d put on around the middle in the last six months or so. Taking a deep breath, you decided that you weren’t going to let even that dampen your mood, and as you drew up at the main stone gates of the old vineyard, you caught sight of an engraved slate sign set into the warm, golden stone wall of the vineyard. Garlanded at the base with summer meadow flowers, it read: Three Oaks Vineyard, and through the wide mouth of the entrance gateposts, visible on the hill opposite at the end of the snaking, downward sloping drive, you could see the three ancient oaks that gave the land its name.

“It’s gorgeous here,” you murmured as you drew up five minutes later in the gravel courtyard behind the old farmhouse buildings and cut the engine.

“Yup,” Tam giggled, slithering out and shaking the stiffness out of his compact muscles after being crammed in the back of the car for over an hour. Seymour sighed and stretched, rolling his neck out, his long, cobalt blue hair falling down his back in a thick ponytail. They both had hoofed feet, which was less common for tieflings, though Seymour’s legs were more like those of a deer than Tam’s chunky goat legs, and Seymour’s long tail, leonine hung behind him in a graceful curve like a cat’s, as though balancing him perfectly.

You admired your two lovely friends for just a moment before the door to what was clearly the reception area opened and a half-orc stepped out of the former storage and cellars building, and beamed broadly at the three of you.

“Seymour!” she said, spreading her muscular arms wide. She wore a form-fitting, but not obscenely tight, pencil skirt and a pale, loose-fitting, sleeveless blouse that showed off her gorgeous, strong figure just perfectly. Her skin was a pale, almost apple green, and you saw as she approached that she had a smattering of darker green freckles across her cheeks and the bridge of her nose. Her plum coloured lipstick set her other minimal makeup off perfectly, and she threw her arms around the elegant tiefling and drew him into a warm, familiar embrace. “So good to see you. I’m so glad you came.”

He turned and waved a hand to introduce you first, and then he turned back to face her and added, “Shell, I believe you already know Tam.”

“Yeah, we’ve met once or twice,” she said. “How are you?”

“Oh, I’m good,” Tam said. “Listen, thanks for letting us take over this failed hen-do or whatever…”

She laughed. “Dragh’s been wanting to do something with just a few friends for a while - this turned out to be the perfect opportunity.”

“So who else is coming?” Tam asked as you all followed her towards the main building, an old French style farmhouse in crumbling sandstone, with sage green shutters flung wide to let in the summer light.

“Maya said she would come,” she said, holding the modern glass door open for you all to file inside. “And Fern too.”

“Perfect,” Tam said, though you knew neither of the names. Seeing this, Tam added with a glance back over his shoulder to you, “Maya is Shell’s girlfriend,” he explained. “A big-ass beautiful centaur, and Fern is a friend of hers, I think?”

The half-orc nodded, but if she said anything after that, you lost it in the white noise that filled your brain at the sight of the orc that was standing  in the reception room beyond.

He wore a pale, silver-grey suit, and a white shirt beneath, unbuttoned just enough to be casual without being obscene, and the tattooed black feathers which you could just glimpse beneath his collar made you want to see the full extent of the artwork immediately. His black hair, perhaps unusually for an orc, was buzzed close above his thick, tapering ears, and cut relatively short over the top, though with enough length to create a soft wave that was just begging to have fingers run through it. There was an attractive flash of white that ran from the middle of his widow’s peak and was swept back over his head as well. He was certainly unusual looking in all the best ways.

He smiled as you entered, and approached you with his enormous hand extended. “Welcome,” he smiled. “I’m so glad you all came.”

You shook his hand - though it might have been more accurate to have said that his hand engulfed yours and you watched it disappear while trying not to let yourself groan aloud. His skin was a deeper olive green than his half-sister’s, but there was a similarity to them about the eyes, namely the warm brown colour and the little crinkle at the corner that hinted at mischief and a cracking-good sense of humour. You introduced yourself and said you hoped he didn’t mind you tagging along.

“Mind?” he chuckled, “Quite the contrary, I assure you,” he said. He had a rich, deep, warm bass voice, and a slight, lyrical accent you couldn’t quite place. “Come through, all of you. I’ve got some welcome drinks and nibbles prepared for you already.”

“A man after my own heart,” Tam grinned, elbowing you in the ribs.

The back of the farmhouse had been converted into a beautiful, glass and steel space. The small, intimate restaurant area had perhaps only four or five tables, and a wall of glass overlooked the sloping lawns of the garden and the vineyard beyond. Your feet faltered as you saw the gorgeous scenery beyond, stuffed full of verdant plants, and while the others headed over to the bar, which was made of a huge, vintage wine barrel and a stunning slab of polished heartwood, you stepped over to the window and gazed out, entranced.

A quiet footstep beside you preceded the appearance of the hulking form of Dragh in the periphery of your vision, and you jumped softly and laughed.

“Sorry,” he chuckled. “Didn’t mean to startle you. Here,” and he held out a glass of sparkling wine in an elegant flute, explaining a little about what it was. He gently chinked his glass against yours, and said quietly, “I’m glad you came along.”

“It’s so beautiful here,” you murmured, and he nodded. “How long have you had the place?”

He took a deep breath and smiled, his conker-brown eyes drifting off towards the sunny horizon. “A long time now,” he said. “I inherited it from parents when I was just eighteen. You can imagine how well a big city orc doing a business degree at university took that…”

You cocked an eyebrow, not wanting to make assumptions.

“Yeah, not well,” he chuckled. “Luckily Shell is older and wiser than me, and I gave her half of the shares of the place, and she took care of it for me til I finished studying. I’ve been working here with her ever since.”

“You’ve clearly put a lot of heart into the place,” you said. Your eyes snagged on a few buildings at the edge of the vineyard, and you nodded at them. “What’s down there?”

He smiled. “Shell’s idea - we needed to diversify a little, so we’ve got guest accommodation too. We do bed and breakfast from Fridays to Mondays.”

“Wow, what a place to stay,” you smiled.

“I’ll show you the cottages on the tour of the grounds in a minute. Come,” he said, stepping back and placing his hand lightly on your back, his huge palm resting politely between your shoulder blades and making you shiver at the warmth of it.

You headed over to the beautiful array of canapes and chatted with the others for a while, but honestly, it was Dragh who held your attention most. You found, interestingly, that his eyes often found their way to your face, and when they did, you found your cheeks heating, but all he would do would be to offer you a gorgeous smile, and continue his conversation politely. Damn though, his shoulders looked incredible in that silvery grey suit, and you could tell his biceps beneath were as solid as stone.

It was only when you realised he was looking at you again, and that everyone else has gone quiet, that you knew you’d zoned out and missed something. “I’m sorry,” you blushed, “I was miles away. What’d I miss?”

Dragh chuckled kindly, eyes twinkling. “I suggested a tour; you ready?”

You nodded, humiliated at your absentminded behaviour, and followed everyone else out into the dry heat of the summer day. Dragh walked beside you as he took you to the various parts of the vineyard, showing you the vines growing, the grapes almost ready for harvesting, and telling you stories of protecting them from late frosts with the help of a local witch in the middle of the night.

You never tired of his beautiful voice and his gentle gestures, and while Seymour and Tam wandered off with Shell to greet the others, you stayed with Dragh in the lower vineyards.

“Let me show you the cottages,” he said. “We redid them not long ago, and I’m really proud of them.”

“Sure, lead the way,” you smiled.

They were indeed gorgeous, with modern, cosy furnishings and white-washed yet warm interiors. Compact log burners promised heat in winter, and the thick stone walls provided welcome shelter from the strong summer sun outside. “I can see why you love them,” you said.

“If you want to stay after today,” he said, “You’re more than welcome. I know said he Seymour was going to drive you back, but if you like, you could stay here and I could drive you tomorrow…”

“Really? But… I… I couldn’t afford to -”

“No,” he laughed, “I wouldn’t ask you to pay for it!” he snorted. “No, I’m offering it to you. My gift.”

“Why?” you blurted, which only made him rumble that deep-chested laugh again.

“Can’t you tell?”

You flushed and he offered you a quiet smile.

“But if it’s too much, I’ll back off. I can be a bit much, I know, but… I like you, and if you go back tonight, I might not get another chance…”

“Chance to what?”

“Flirt with you,” he grinned, his tusks flashing.

“Oh,” and then you began to giggle. “I’m sorry,” you said when he started to look first confused, and then a little hurt. “No, I’m sorry, I’m just… out of practice, clearly. I broke up with my boyfriend about three months ago, and we were together for four years, so… I’m rusty. I’m sorry. I’d like that.”

“Well, that’s a relief,” he said, still smiling. “C’mon. You came here to taste wine, not listen to me bumble my way through flirting with you.”

He steered you back up to the main house, where you all spent the remainder of the afternoon lounging around, laughing, chatting, tasting small glasses of incredible wines, and nibbling local cheeses and handmade snacks. Maya joined you with Shell mid-way through the afternoon, her large, fetlocked hooves clopping on the patio as she moved about. Fern turned out to be a waif of a goblin, with thin limbs, pale lilac skin, and enormous ears and eyes. He grinned cheekily at you though and you liked him instantly.

But it was Dragh who held your attention the most. As the sun began to set, Shell started up a barbecue, and you ate and talked until you felt your eyelids beginning to get heavy. Seymour and Tam said they were going to head back, and asked if you were ready to go, but you blushed and said that Dragh had offered you a bed for the night in one of the cottages.

“Oh did he now?” Tam chuckled quietly as you stood at the edge of the ring of firelight on the patio, the central fire pit casting flickering shadows around the gathered group of mellow friends, new and old. “Good.” The short satyr gave you a hug and tugged Seymour away once they’d said their goodnights.

Maya and Shell slipped away not long after, with Fern practically vanishing into the dusk at their heels, leaving just you and Dragh alone.

“Did you have a good time?” he asked as he checked that the barbecue coals were cool enough to leave.

“I did, thank you.”

“Not too much to drink?” he asked, casting you a sideways glance.

You shook your head. “You paced it perfectly,” you smiled. “And that elderflower cordial that Maya brought was beautiful.”

“She brought it for Seymour because he doesn’t drink, and she didn’t want him to feel left out.”

“I was surprised that he came along when I found out he’s t-total…”

Dragh shrugged and then laughed, “There is more to this place than the wine, you know…?”

You tilted your head up, exposing your neck as you gazed at the summer stars above you, and hummed softly. “Mmm, so I see,” you said.

When you looked back at him, he was staring fixedly at your throat. “Gods,” he murmured. “You’re so beautiful…”

Your lips hitched into a nervous smile, and he set down the wineglass he’d been holding in one hand, and rose gracefully to come and tower over you. He leaned in close, giving you every opportunity to back away or ask him to stop, but when you did nothing but gaze up into his endlessly warm eyes, he closed the distance between you and pressed a kiss to your lips.

He tasted of wine, but then again so did you, and he slid his fingers around to the back of your neck and cupped your head as he kissed you, his eyelids fluttering shut. His lips were firm and confident, but the kiss ended all too soon as he pulled himself upright. He held out his hand to you, and you slid eagerly enough off the wall where you’d been perched, letting him pull you to your feet.

He walked you back down the slope towards the cottage, and at the door he hesitated. He was still wearing that beautiful suit, and you licked your lips as you stepped over the threshold and turned back to face him. “You coming in?” you asked, and he waited just long enough for you to smile again before following you inside.

Dragh nudged you gently against the wall as he kissed you again, his hands roving over your body, savouring the softness of you and moaning beneath the kisses. He shifted his attention and began to kiss down your neck, his tusks digging in almost painfully as he mouthed gently at you.

His hips rocked against yours and you felt how hard he was getting the longer he lavished attention on you. His breath left his lungs in uneven rasps, and he set his hands on your hips and drew back a little to look at you. His pupils were blown wide and he stared at you with glassy eyes. “Tell me you want this,” he growled. “If you don’t want it, I’ll stop, but if I keep going much longer, I might not be able to…” His ears shifted slightly, not being as expressive as a goblin or elf’s, but still showing a little of his uncertainty.

You reached your hand for his rough, if shaven, jawline and caressed his cheek with your thumb. He purred another growl into the quiet space between you, his eyes rolling closed with a groan.

“I want this,” you whispered.

He lost no time in herding you into the bedroom and pressing you down into the bed. He sloughed off his jacket and tossed it over a chair, and you felt the breath leave your chest at the sight of his taut body beneath. Muscles strained attractively against the fabric of his shirt, and as he smiled almost shyly at you, he began to unbutton the shirt. Frustrated, he pulled it over his head, and you gasped audibly when you saw the tattoos beneath.

A massive gryphon stretched from his left pec, over his shoulder, and its inky wings came to rest halfway down his forearms.

“Wow,” you murmured, and he smiled.

“You like it?”

“Yeah. It must have hurt like a bitch though,” you said, glimpsing the ink on his waist too where the gryphon’s taloned hind feet finished. “Turn around?” you asked, and he did, looking back at you over his colossal shoulder, watching you admiring him.

“That’s a sight I could get used to,” he rumbled softly.

“What?” you asked, shuffling up the bed as he turned back around and came to lie down beside you, trailing his fingertips up your leg and making you shiver with a touch light as a spider’s shadow.

Dragh smiled, a slow, lazy, adoring smile, and you bit your lip. “I could get used to you looking at me like that,” he clarified.

“I don’t think I would ever get used to the sight of you though,” you rasped. “You’re gorgeous.”

“Thanks,” he smiled, laughing a deep and genuine laugh. “I work hard…” he went on, kissing your shoulder almost affectionately. “Most folks think orcs are just born looking like this, and yeah,” he added, causally sliding his huge hand beneath the fabric of your dress and enveloping your entire thigh in his grasp, “We have it easier than most do, but…” he parted your legs with a gentle gesture, and you just lay back and let him, finding it hard to concentrate on what he was saying now. “But I do take care of myself.” He lowered his lips to your inner thigh and kissed you. “Let me take care of you now…?” he asked.

You gasped as his tusks dug into your thick thighs, and your head lolled backwards as pleasure swept over your whole body, sliding beneath your skin and setting every inch of you tingling. “Yes!” you whispered, breathing hard.

He had you naked in a matter of seconds, laying you back down tenderly and gazing at you until you nearly barked at him to stop staring. He leaned forwards and cupped your breast in his hand and kneaded it gently, moving his mouth to your nipple and kissing, sucking, and tugging on it until you were almost in tears from how good it felt.

Dragh ran both his hands down your body, leaving your nipples cold and overly sensitive in the cool air of the bedroom, and he sank his flat, orcish nose to your sex and nudged against your throbbing clit before lapping over you with his thick tongue. The sound that escaped him as he tasted you was like no sound you’d ever heard before, and as he returned his attentions to your wet folds, he made it again and again. He circled you and laved his tongue up and down over you until you were giddy and breathless, begging for more.

“Please,” you gasped.

“You want me inside you?” he asked, and you risked a glance down to see just how big he was as he sat up a moment. When you nodded, he grinned. “Gimme a second then.” You turned your head to watch as he drew out a condom and ripped into it. He rolled it slowly down his weeping, thick length, and you groaned as you watched him handling himself. He was huge, as most orcs apparently were, with a thick vein running along the length, and as he turned back to face you, he grinned. “Ready?”

An inarticulate grunt and a nod were all you could manage, but he smiled and lined himself up, rocking his hips teasingly back and forth to stretch you, rubbing the tip of his cock against your clit until you thought you might just come from that alone. Almost, but not quite.

“Please,” you hissed, and he smiled.

“You tell me to stop if I’m too much, ok?” he crooned, bracing one hand beside your head and sliding himself into you. He stretched you gloriously wide, but he didn’t know you’d been in a relationship with a minotaur before this, and were more than used to taking a big cock. Even so, the feel of him left you gasping. “Oh gods, you’re perfect,��� he crooned suddenly as he sank all the way in, hilt deep. The girth of his cock stretched you until you thought you might break, but when you bucked upwards into him, he took it as a sign that you were ready, and he began to move his hips again.

He picked up a steady rhythm, growling and grunting with pleasure as his cock filled you and you clenched tightly around him. He shifted his thumb to your clit and stroked you in time with his thrusts, feeling you tightening around him with each pounding heartbeat, until you grabbed his muscular neck and came hard, waves of sparking pleasure sweeping through you.

You came so hard you drew his own orgasm from him, and he emptied into you a moment later with a bellow and a roar that left your ears ringing. “You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his consonants slurring, his eyelids heavy with pleasure as he tried to look at you through the daze of his orgasm. “Is this real?” he added a moment later.

You laughed, and he withdrew, rolling onto his back and sorting himself out while you lay there and let your eyes drift closed for a moment. Deep contentment washed through you, and you took a steadying breath. You felt him leave to slip into the bathroom, but were barely aware of him returning. The mattress dipped as he sat on the edge and laid his hand on your thigh. He murmured your name, and you opened your eyes groggily to see him sitting there, now wearing his tight, black boxer briefs again.

“You want me to go?” he asked in a whisper.

You shook your head, and he smiled, climbing into bed beside you and pulling the sheets over both of you.

You drifted off to sleep not long after that, with his body pressed tightly around yours.

___________________________

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[phoneboxfairy]

Fifty Shades of Heartfilia?!

https://archiveofourown.org/works/17993414

It all started with a book. An awful, horrible book.

Lucy had no idea that it was possible, could never have comprehended that a book could be so awful...until she read this one.

It was supposed to be sexy, the sort of book that was gaining a reputation for spicing up marriages all across Fiore...not that her relationship was lacking in spice.

She had read it expecting to get maybe a few naughty ideas, knowing Natsu enjoyed her naughty ideas.

Instead she just got mad.

Mad at the author's style, mad at the lack of proper romance, just plain mad.

The book went flying, slamming against the wall before fluttering to the ground in a flurry of pages.

That caught Natsu's attention. He had been working out in the corner, beads of sweat peppering his bare chest. He stopped mid-crunch, quirked his head.

"Somethin' wrong, Luce?"

"A little writer's rage, that's all. I don't know how that garbage got published."

"That bad, huh?"

"Yeah. She's a hack who has no idea what passion feels like, or how to write about that special fire..." She let out a heavy sigh. "I could write better love scenes than this with my eyes closed."

"Duh. You have an awesome imagination. Especially with that kinda stuff." No kidding, he thought, blushing as his mind flashed to one of the many times she had tied him up for the sake of play.

Their eyes met. She licked her lips ever so deliberately.

"I know a game we can play to give my imagination a workout. If you want to, that is. I'll even wear something special."

"Yes please."

"I'll be right back, then." A giggle and a nose boop before she went to the bathroom to change.

Curious. Natsu was curious. What was she up to...? Eh, no point in thinking about it. He walked over to her desk, picked up a small stack of paper with the label "Royal Desires."

Huh, must be a fantasy story, he thought, leafing through a few pages of princesses and pageantry. Then his eyes caught a certain passage.

"She lay on the bed in her finest nightgown, watching the knight with dark hooded eyes. Lithe fingers stroked her swollen little nub, damp from her feminine nectar.

'Milady is more wanton than I realized. Tis my pleasure to see ye like this.'

'Tis my pleasure that matters currently, sir knight. I insist that you ravish me. Right now.'"

His eyes widened. He flipped a few more pages, and the princess was indeed being ravished by the knight in a variety of interesting positions.

Damn. Lucy really did have quite the imagination. He chuckled, replacing the story on the desk and sitting down on her bed.

Shortly after, Lucy returned in a tiny maid costume complete with boots, thigh high stockings, and her whip at her side.

The skirt was ruffled and short, giving him a quick flash of panty as she walked over. The effect was supposed to be sweet and innocent but he saw a strong, undeniably sexy woman who could kick anyone's ass.

And right now he wanted an ass kicking.

"Let's start with a little rock-paper-scissors. Whoever wins gets to dominate."

Normally he was excellent at this, his sharp instincts able to determine what his opponent was going to pick. Right now he chose to use those instincts to his advantage.

Hehe.

One, two, three…he caught her motion, knew what her choice would be. Held out his fist. Not surprised at all when her hand covered his. Paper beats rock.

“Cheater.” “Who cares? You won.”

“Very well.” Her voice was a silky purr. “Safe word?” “Uhhh…red.”

“Alright. Now, get on the bed. Face down, hands above your head, and close your eyes.” He did as he was told. She stepped closer. Unhooked her whip, traced the leather down from his shoulders, following his spine to his ass. “Keep your eyes closed and don’t move your hands.”

“Yes ma’am.” She leaned closer, whispered something.

“And let me know if it’s too much. I don’t want to, you know, -really- hurt you…”

“Don’t worry, baby. Thick skin. I can handle it.”

“Alright…” She kissed the nape of his neck, treated his thigh to a playful pinch. Then she pulled his pants down, taking time to admire that glorious backside of his. Suddenly she got brave and her caress turned into a spank. He shuddered, exhaled.

“Wow.” “Shhh.” Another spank, this time firmer and more confident. Natsu somehow managed to hide his smile. He knew Lucy could handle this, knew she just needed a little time.

Seconds later the whip cracked, striking his upper thigh. He exhaled sharply, fingers clenching into fists. Sure, it hurt, but it was the good kind of pain. The kind that sent blood rushing straight to his cock.

“You like it, huh? Then beg. Beg me for more.” “Please…princess.”

Two little words made her blush. He didn’t even have to open his eyes to know he had struck a nerve.

Good. “You shouldn’t read things without asking first. I’m afraid I’m gonna have to punish you.” He barely had time to brace himself. The whip cracked twice, once on each cheek. Shudder. His hands clenched into the comforter. “Thank you. More, please?” “If you insist…” One last crack, one last rush of pleasurable pain. Then she exhaled. Set the whip down, whispered, “…red…”

He opened his eyes, noticed she was trembling, her heart racing.

“Baby? Are you okay?”

“Y…yeah…I just…think I overdid it, that’s all…”

“That’s fine. I don’t want you to hurt yourself.” He reached out and touched her hand. She melted instantly. “Did you still want to dominate?” “Yeah.” A more confident whisper. “Lay back down.”

“Alright.” Now he was just curious…he resumed his position, down to the closed eyes and hands above his head. Within maybe a few seconds something cool splashed against tender skin and was kneaded in by her delicate yet certainly capable fingers. “Damn…what're ya doin'?”

“Aftercare. It…helps take away some of the stinging.”

Then he felt something warm brush against the back of his thigh. A kiss.

She was kissing where the whip had hit, gently making up for the roughness of earlier.

It was incredible.

It also made him realize just how much of an erogenous zone his butt was, especially in the hands of his woman.

She planted a kiss on his lower back. He exhaled.

"You're good at this."

"Only because my partner is so patient with me."

"Always. Listen, Lucy." He shifted, sat up, covering himself with a nearby pillow, took her hand. "I want you to always feel comfortable when we're together. Never feel ashamed, and don't feel like you have to hide your desires in some story. Let me make all those fantasies of yours a reality. Please.”

His words were sweet, his tone dark, sensual, making her feel all warm, tingly, and to be honest, horny.   “Alright. I…I want you to undress me. Destroy my panties, work me up into a frenzy. Then fuck me. But first…This is in the way.” She tossed the pillow to the edge of the bed. Straddled him, feeling his rather impressive arousal against her leg. “What’re you waiting for? I told you what I want…”

“I guess we want the same thing.” Purr. He nibbled her bottom lip, letting his hands roam until they found her zipper. The dress went up over her head then down onto the floor.  The boots and stockings stayed on. So did his scarf. He liked it that way.

Carefully, gently, he laid her on her back, turning his attention to those panties. Stroked over the delicate swell, then traced from her core to her pantyline. Slipped both thumbs under the cotton. Grinned, letting his body heat burn them away but not burning her skin.

Burning her crotch wasn't exactly a good method of foreplay, after all.

He tossed the scorched garment to the side. Inhaled, took in her private scent, exhaled with a rather territorial growl.

Mine.

“Hey Luce, got any lube?”

“Y-y-yeah. It's, ah, in the nightstand. Top drawer.”

“Awesome.” He got up to look. She exhaled, trembling from his intensity, feeling like he had set her ablaze. Then she heard him make a curious noise before shutting the drawer. “I found somethin' we can play with.” “The lube?” “Nah, not just that.”

Whatever it was, he wasn't showing her...although Lucy had a strong suspicion she knew exactly what he had in his hand.

A strong suspicion that was confirmed when she heard a brief telltale buzzing.

“You found my lucky egg...”

“Hard to miss when it was laying right next to your lube.” He switched it on, rubbed it over the sensitive inner skin of her thigh. She whimpered. “So this is how you play when I'm not around.”

“Yeah. It comes in handy when you're off on those long job requests and I don't have anyone to warm me up at night.” Looking right at him, eyes dark with lust.

Holy shit.

“I bet it's even more fun with a partner.”

“Then let's try it out. Shall we?”

“Yes please.” He felt excited, almost dizzy at the prospect. Her next words made it worse, or better in this case. “What are you waiting for, Natsu? Play with me.”

There were certain things Natsu couldn't turn down if his life depended on it.

Lucy naked, spread eagle, demanding to be played with, was at the top of that list.

He warmed the soft plastic with his hand, drizzled lube onto its surface. Then he rubbed it against her skin, letting the soft buzz drive her crazy. Starting at her belly button, working his way down, smirking when she squirmed in response.

Keeping an eye on her reactions, he dragged the egg over her clit, drawing a few circles over hyper-sensitive skin. Wet, trembling, letting out those little mewling moans that always drove him crazy. He moved the toy down lower, tracing, teasing, all while treating her sweet spot to kisses and licks.

Then he glanced up at her, saw her pinching and playing with her nipples, saw the dark and lusty look in her eyes, heard her whisper.

“Natsu...” “Havin' fun?” “Mmmhm.”

“Good...” Sneaky grin. Fun? Oh, he was gonna show her fun, alright.

Hehe.

With absolutely no warning he slipped the egg into her, started fucking her with it. More mewling as she arched her back, not-so-silently begging for more.

“Ohmigod Natsuuuu...”

“I love watching you react, Luce. Those little sounds, the way you're looking at me. Nothin' gets me fired up like you.”

“Then what'cha waiting for?” She beckoned him closer with her eyes and a finger waggle. “Toys don't have anything on you...”

“Good...” Gently, so gently, he slipped the egg out of her. Cleanup could wait. Right now pleasuring her was the only thing on his mind. He treated himself to a rather rough stroke, mentally preparing himself for the coming bliss.

“Careful. Handle me like that and you'll take a cold shower.”

“Sorry. Is this better?” He sank into her slooooooowly, biting his lip and closing his eyes against the overwhelming sensations. Lucy's only response at first was a whimper as she splayed her hands over his back. “Talk to me, babygirl. Let me hear that sexy little voice of yours.”

“Natsuuu..” Another whimper, this one more articulate. “Holy...holy shit you feel so good...”

“Don't just tell me. Show me what you want.” He growled, teasing her with deliberately slow movements.

“What I want...” Panting each word. “You..all of you.” “Show me.” Lower, darker growl. Lucy grabbed him by the scarf, pulled him closer, kissed him as deeply as she could, hooking her legs around him in the process.

Well that was a direct hint. No more of this slow crap. He moved faster, making a sound that was more like a purr than a growl. She kept him close, one hand gripping the scarf in a death-hold. The other was still on his back.

“Mmmmm...just like that, Natsu...” He felt her nails scraping against his skin. Growl-purr.

“You got me so fired up, Luce...”

“Duh...that's kinda the idea...” Another nail scrape sent chills down his spine. He licked his lips, feeling his fangs with his tongue. Growing. Shit.

“Lucy...” “Nat...Natsu...?” She saw the red in his eyes, saw the outline of scales. Gasped, but didn't flinch away.

“I don't wanna hurt you. I can't control this...” Before he could say anything else he felt her hand on his cheek.

“It's okay, Natsu. You won't hurt me. Just don't stop.” Tender kiss. He nodded...tentatively. Then got back to pleasuring her at full power. Most girls would have panicked or freaked the fuck out if their partner had just randomly gone into dragon force mode during sex.

Not her, not his Lucy. She could handle it. Hell, by the look of it, she LOVED it when he got rough. Holding herself steady by grasping his scarf, downright digging her nails into his back. “Na...tsuuu.. Mmm, stretch me out, big boy...”

A rather loud growl as he gave her exactly what she wanted, rewarded with her little moans and feeling exactly how much she was enjoying this whole thing.

“Lucy...fuck...you're so fucking perfect...” Harder, faster. He scraped a fang against her neck, felt her body's reaction to his, knew she couldn't last much longer. Mid-thrust he got a glimpse of his cock, covered in her juices. FUCK, that was hot.

He growled her name, pinned her against the bed, fucked her as hard as he could, felt her nails break skin as she cried out.

“Na...Natsuuuuu~!” Music to his ears as she came, sounds and sensations neither could get enough of.

Complete sensory overload. He roared her name in the heat of climax, then fell into her arms.

“Are...you alright, Luce...?”

“I'm fine. I might not be able to walk very well in the morning, though.” Soft giggle as she stroked a hand through his hair. “What about you, Natsu? Are you okay?”

“Fan-fucking-tastic.” He flashed a big grin, got to his feet, and scooped Lucy into his arms.

“Wait whoa hold up, where are we going!?”

“Takin' a bath, that's where. I'm not lettin' my girl go to sleep covered in sweat and soot.”

“Well that's kind of your fault, mister.” Another giggle. “Although...if it means we can start a tradition of taking baths together, I'll allow it.”

“Sounds good to me.”

Once the tub was full the princess and her knight cuddled together, enjoying the warm water and each other's company.

Later on, enjoying the comfort of her favorite pajamas, blankets, and the embrace of her peacefully snoozing dragon slayer, Lucy felt grateful.

Grateful for that stupid book.

Grateful for her own imagination.

Grateful for Natsu, for being the perfect best friend AND boyfriend a girl could ask for.

With those thoughts in mind, she fell asleep smiling, dreams echoing her feeling of bliss.

~Fin

[shawnsorangeglasses]

Better Conversations - Part 3

2.3k words

Get you some tea, it’s BC Part 3

Hello yellow, you gotta read part 2 if you haven’t already. Better yet, here’s the masterlist.

It feels like the whole world has gotten wrapped up in Shawn’s appearance with (Y/N) in the streets of New York. She faces some consequences.

warnings: a little dramatic, sweeter ending

......................

News of Shawn’s mystery “girlfriend” caught fire and spread rapidly across all social media platforms. Fans were either happy, suspicious, or appalled. No matter what they felt about it, young girls from all over the world began to analyze and pick apart pictures of them together in the streets of New York. The group of fans they met at the diner took a video of their meeting with Shawn and that only stirred up some more talk online as well. There were screenshots and red circles and literal YouTube videos on this. It’s not like (Y/N) and Shawn were caught holding hands or making out, but all the gossips sites wasted no words and no time getting their articles out for clicks.

The video of them only caught her from the chest down, a snippet of her voice, and Shawn’s full body sat at the lunch counter. Some people were kind enough to comment that whoever this mystery girl was had really nice legs. That seemed to be the only positive aspect in all the chaos.

Bea, (Y/N)’s sister, only recognized her because of her clothes, specifically the boots she always wore. She was just as confused and shocked as the rest of the world when she called. It took about ten minutes to calm her down and explain the whole mess.

Shawn still had to leave for Toronto that night. Goodbyes weren’t even an option. His people wanted him and him alone at the airport, which (Y/N) understood. In her mind, she had already caused enough trouble.

Miraculously enough, not one person had been able to place (Y/N)’s face or social identity. She never really posted pictures of herself online and rarely allowed anyone to take a picture of her and post it without permission. Her Instagram page only had three posts, all city photography, and her profile picture only displayed a solitary bumblebee doodle. For a while, it seemed like the damage would repair itself. (Y/N) thought she may have been in the clear.

Then she woke up. More photos were published. Her phone had ten missed calls. Eight from Jason and two from Lawrence Derringer, the head executive of his branch. (Y/N) prepared for the worst.

It was Sunday by now. The Jason and Mr. Derringer opened up their offices just to talk to her in the conference room. She wore the most conservative outfit she could find in her closet.

“Ms. (Y/L/N), are you aware of the story that has surfaced about you and Mr. Shawn Mendes in the news?”

“Yes Mr. Derringer, but I can explain. Nothing happened at all between Shawn and me. I would never get involved with a client in that fashion, and as far as I know, they never even got a picture of my face.”

“I’m afraid you’re mistaken, Ms. (Y/L/N).” They present a laptop screen to her, opened to a TMZ article with her and Shawn stood at the gemstone pop-up shop. Her face is clear and visible. “This was published eight hours ago,” Jason mumbles.

“I know your intentions must have been pure, Ms. (Y/L/N). What I’m struggling to understand is why you never questioned any of the endeavors you had with Mr. Mendes. Harmless as they may have been, this could have a negative effect on our firm’s relationship with him as well as our image in the industry. Did this not occur to you when you realized you were being photographed? Surely it must have.”

(Y/N) doesn’t answer, right away. Saying no, would have been a lie. She did consider the possibility of them getting a little publicity, but she didn’t think so far ahead about how that might affect the company.

“I suppose you’re going to have to fire me then?”

Mr. Derringer glances at Jason, then back at (Y/N). “Fortunately, no. You will not be fired for this. Apparently, Shawn called our offices several times last night trying to get a hold of one of us. He managed to reach me and said the day out was his all idea and that you should not be fired for the events that followed.”

“So, I’m not in trouble?”

“Well yes and no. I told him you would keep your job but that does not mean you can get off without some repercussions. Since Whitman was the one who hired you, I figured he should be the one to enforce that.”

Jason steps forward, looking like he was trying so hard to be authoritative in front of his superior. “I made the decision to prohibit you from attending any future corporate events where Shawn or any other Island Records artist may also attend. It’s probably for the best that you don’t see Mr. Mendes anymore in public for any reason. Your recent promotion has also been revoked as well and your salary will revert back to the earnings you made prior to said promotion.”

(Y/N)’s jaw set, keeping her tongue from saying everything she wanted to spit in his stupid Ivy League face. Everything she’s wanted to say to him for the past eight months feels like holding acid in the back of her throat. She swallowed her thoughts.

“I understand. My sincerest apologies, Mr. Derringer. It won’t happen again.”

“I certainly hope not, Ms. (Y/L/N). You’re a valued member of our staff and you contribute so much to the floor and the board. It’d be a shame to lose you over something like this. Jason will see you out. Have a good evening.”

(Y/N) is already at the elevator smashing the down button before Jason can even make it down the hall. Tears of humiliation sting her eyes as the elevator slowly takes her and Jason down from the top floor. He tries to lay a hand on her shoulder, apologetically, but she shrugs it off and steps further from him. If he was sorry, it only because he felt like he had to be, not because he actually was.

“Are you seriously pissed at me? You brought this on yourself.”

“You have no right to try and keep me from seeing him or anyone.”

“That’s what you think this is about? Maybe you ought to think twice before sleeping your way through our list of clients.”

Of course, it’s all my fault that I didn’t feel like eating alone one afternoon.

“I’m sorry. I wasn’t aware going to lunch with one man is the equivalent to shoving my tongue down his throat.”

“You might as well have been, the way you were smiling at each other in those pictures.”

“I knew it. I knew you had a problem with me seeing other people. You can go and fuck every girl in Times Square if you want, but I have to sit idly by like your personal dumping ground?”

“You can see whoever you want. Just not him. You should know better. This firm—”

“Like you give a damn about the firm. This is about you and your fat ego. You can’t handle the fact that somebody might even be a little interested in me because you know that as soon as I find someone who actually gives a damn about me, I won’t have a reason to come back to you for a goddamned quickie in the janitor’s closet.”

“It’s that kind of thinking that keeps you behind that desk.”

(Y/N) falls silent. No more words are spoken. There was no use in trying to argue or be right. Jason was jealous again. He’d done this once before when another coworker, someone on (Y/N)’s pay grade, showed interest in her. The elevator doors finally open and she treads heavily out the front doors, never looking back.

…………………..

(Y/N) spent the rest of the evening wrapped in her bed sheets, at first crying with her makeup still on, then eating leftovers and watching Criminal Minds reruns. Hearing Dr. Reid talk about m.o.’s calmed her down. She’d turned her phone off hours ago just to get some peace. Family and friends were calling and texting her non-stop yesterday evening about her appearance with Shawn. At the time it was too much to handle with possibility of getting fired still looming over her head. But now with the worst over, (Y/N) figured she should probably check her notifications for anything important.

Through all the messages from cousins and people who barely knew her, one single text from Shawn floated to the very top.

[please call me]

He sent it about an hour after (Y/N)’s meeting with Mr. Derringer. It’s 1 AM now but Shawn was in LA. She checks the time zones first then finds his contact and presses the call button. He picks up on the first ring.

“Hey, are you okay?”

(Y/N) grins for the first time today, more than happy to hear that soft voice again. “I should be asking you that. Every news outlet has a story on you. And me, I guess.”

“Yeah but are you okay?”

It sounds like he’d been waiting to ask her this question all day. Technically, (Y/N) was okay, but she could be better, given the circumstances. She chooses her next words carefully.

“I…I will be. I didn’t get fired if that’s what you mean. Thank you for that by the way.”

“I’m so sorry. I said everything would be fine and I should have known this would happen.”

“It’s not your fault. People aren’t that crazy about it. Your fans are being relatively nice to me, now that they know my face.”

“They know your face?”

“Yeah. More photos came out this morning.”

Shawn goes quiet for a moment. It sounds like he’s moving into another room away from the chatter in the background. “Could we video chat?” The new echo of his voice sounds like he’s moved into the bathroom.

(Y/N) looked at her reflection in the mirror on the wall across the room. Dramatic streaks of mascara still trailed down her cheeks and her eyes were still very red. She should say no, but she desperately wants to see his face. And this technically didn’t go against Jason’s stupid new rules for her.

“Give me a minute.”

She washes her face in the bathroom the best she can. Her eyes are still red when she’s done. Fuck it, she thinks. Maybe he won’t notice.

(Y/N) flops back down on her bed and opens the app. Shawn’s face pops up on her screen, riddled with concern. He’s sat in the bathtub, one in a hotel probably, wearing a white t-shirt, hair fluffy and wild without its gel. One “s” curl fell on his forehead.

Unfortunately, he does notice. “You’ve been crying?”

(Y/N) bites her lip. “Maybe.”

Shawn doesn’t speak. He just wants to look at the girl on his screen. The truth is he didn’t really have a good reason to facetime her other than just wanting to see her again. He was so sure that she would never want to talk to him again after all of this.

“I want to know why, but you don’t have to tell me,” he says.

“No, it’s alright. I’m not fired but I am never allowed to be seen in public with you again as long as I work there.” (Y/N) sniffles. “Which is fucking stupid.”

“So quit,” he mutters. The words leave his mouth before he can think twice about saying them.

“Quit?”

“I mean—I’m kidding, that’s not what I meant. God, that sounded really bad.”

“It did,” she says through a smile. “But I have thought about it. About a year ago actually.”

“What changed your mind?”

“I met someone. At work. We’re not a real couple but...” (Y/N) realizes she doesn’t have an appropriate label for whatever she and Jason are, but Shawn seems to understand. “I wasn’t trying to get ahead. I did actually like him once upon a time. But he never wanted to be anything more with me. Then he became my boss and things just moved under the table.”

Shawn thinks this time before speaking. “Was it that guy you were with at the party?”

“Damn, you’re good. How much of that did you see?”

“I saw when he tried to get you to dance. And when he was at the bar.”

“Well if this music thing ever bombs—it won’t—you should be a detective.”

Shawn gives her a weak smile. A piece of his heart broke a little when she admitted to being in a relationship, albeit a noncommittal and toxic one. Someone already had her heart and her eyes.

“Do you still love him?”

(Y/N) thinks about it for second. Love? It seemed so unattainable for her at this point. At the start, Jason was romantic but never with the usual gestures. Just clever lines and secret lunch dates on the rooftop. Then one day he just stopped. Looking back, it doesn’t seem like love anymore. Just regular sneaking around. “I don’t think we ever made it to the love stage of it all.”

Shawn slouches down into the tub more, forcing his long legs out and his feet up on the tiled wall in front of him.

“I take it back. Maybe you should quit.”

(Y/N) blinks at him. “Very funny. I may be unhappy, but I still have bills to pay. That bastard docked my salary too, so I’ll be working double shifts again.”

“No, I’m serious, (Y/N). If you go in tomorrow and put it your two weeks’ notice, you can have a job as my assistant.”

She sits up in her bed, not believing a word of what those bright pink lips were telling her. “I thought we we’re joking when we talked about that.”

He shrugs. “I wasn’t.”

“Doesn’t there have to be a few more conversations with a few more people before you just bring a new person on board?”

“I’ll talk to Andrew tonight,” he promises. “He knows who you are, and I’ve told him how hard you work.”

“I’d have to think about it Shawn. That’s a big leap.”

“I know, but I do mean it. You have a job waiting for you whenever you want it.”

(Y/N) tried feel good about this, but everything about working for Shawn scared her. She knew his intentions were good but there was more risk than that. What if she fell into the same hole she did with Jason? What would fans say? What would people think?

“I call you when I have an answer.”

......................

taglist:

@spider-mendes @sebsdreamboat @innositer

[nomattertheoceans]

I made you a promise - chapter 16

Before I let you read on, a few important announcements.

I will be leaving tumblr from Sunday 21st, until I’ve read Kingdom of Ash. Because I’ve already put my spoiler tags up, and still I started to see things about the book (I don’t know how these people got their hands on the book, but how about using some tags, people? I’m so angry about it, I don’t want to dwell on it and ruin your day too….)

Knowing myself and how I read, I’ll probably start reading it on Friday 26th, and will hopefully have finished it on Sunday or something.

Once I come back to tumblr, this blog will definitely not be spoiler free!!! I will be using these tags on every koa post I share: “koa spoilers”, “koa spoiler”, “kingdom of ash spoiler” and “kingdom of ash spoilers” That way, if you want to avoid any spoilers, just filter at least one of these tags and you’ll be safe in my blog.

Regarding the fic: this might be my last update in a while. In November, I won’t be updating it at all, because I’ll spend the month of November  developing my original story, and I can’t focus on my story if I keep thinking about my fics. So I’ll try to get a chapter out between the moment when I’ll finish Kingdom of Ash, and the beginning of November, but nothing certain. In any case, whether it be this chapter or the next one, I promise I won’t leave you guys on a big cliffhanger hahahaha (I’m really not that cruel ^^), and I also promise that I am in no way abandoning this fic, and will be back in December! I just need some time for my other project :)

Anyway, that’s it I guess. Thank you so so much to everyone who reads, likes, comments,... I love it all!!

@highladyofherondale @amazinginglyawesomeperson @illyrianbeauty

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Writing masterlist || On mobile

Feyre sat down at her small desk after lunch, a smile lingering on her face. She’d just eaten with Rhys, and at some point during the meal, he’d casually referred to her as his girlfriend, before realizing what he’d said and looking at her with dread in his eyes. She hadn’t been able to stop her laugh at the sight of him freaking out, a warm feeling spreading in her heart at the idea that he considered her his girlfriend, that it had come as naturally to him as it had to her. Still smiling, she opened her inbox to check emails, somewhat mindlessly reading through them, thinking - and blushing - about something Rhys had whispered in her ear before leaving her at the door. Something about making his girlfriend moan when he…

There was an email from New York. From John, the author she’d met with the week before. And the email was titled: “John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC?” She opened it frantically and read what he’d written to her:

From: john.helvar@gmail.com

To: arch.feyre@gmail.com

Email sent on: Tuesday, October 30th at 1:04 p.m.

Feyre,

How are you?

I’m writing to you as a follow up of our meeting in Velaris last week. I was charmed by all of the ideas you presented to me, and showed them to my publisher on Friday. She also liked them, and would like to meet you and discuss them further before making a final decision. We’re both available at the beginning of next week, and would like for you to come to New York for a few days. It would be a trip from Sunday afternoon until Wednesday morning, allowing us two full days to work. The publishing house would pay for your plane tickets and your hotel.

Let me know before Thursday if you’re available, to book everything for you.

Looking forward to seeing you soon in New York,

John.

She wasn’t sure she was breathing. He wanted her to come to New York. To meet his publisher. To craft a contract. Which meant he wanted to work with her, he wanted her to create every single one of the illustrations for his books. An entire collection, with about 100 to 150 pages per book. After meeting her twice, he trusted her enough to agree to working with her for the next few months, the next few years. She felt her heart racing in her chest, her breathing became jagged and her hands were shaking.

She couldn’t do it. She couldn’t go to New York and meet with these people when she had to drag herself out of bed every morning, when she found every drawing she made harder than the last. Not when she’d been unable to pick up a paintbrush for months, her only drawings being those requested for work. She’d felt sort of confident during the meetings with him, but it hadn’t been serious. For all that she wanted and needed this job, she hadn’t considered the possibility that he might actually choose her. Her vision blurred and she realized she was crying. The realization woke her up and she tried to force her body to calm down. Nothing was decided yet, she thought, clenching at her desk to keep herself grounded, he simply wanted her to meet the rest of the team that was working on the project. Maybe he didn’t even want to work only with her, maybe she would be part of a bigger team of illustrators and her work wouldn’t even be noticed.

But it didn't work, she was still panicking, tears still rolled down on her cheeks. Without thinking, she picked up her phone and dialed.

***

The day was beautiful. Granted, it was raining, and he was freezing, and he had about a zillion paperwork to finish before he could go home tonight. But how could this day not be beautiful, when he’d just had lunch with his wonderful girlfriend - it was official now - and she was coming to his place to spend the night. He’d have to buy some stuff for her if she started to sleep at his house more regularly, like a toothbrush, some of her shampoo, maybe some stuff for her period if she wanted, a hairbrush,...

He was driven away from his mental shopping list by the vibrations of his phone in his pocket. Smiling at the name on the screen, he answered:

“Hey you, miss me already?”

“Oh Gods Rhys, I’m freaking out.” Her voice was stranded, and her breathing frantic.

“What’s going on? Are you ok?”

“I am. It’s just…. I received an email from the guy I met with the other week. He wants me to go to New York next week to meet his publishing team.”

“Feyre, that’s great!” He wasn’t really an expert in the publishing world, but the author wanting her to meet with his publisher was bound to be a good sign.

“I… Yeah I guess it is.” But her voice was flat, and he started wondering what was in this email that got her so freaked out.

“Darling, what’s going on? You don’t sound pleased.”

“No, I am.” A pause. “I am. See you tonight at your place?”

“Y - yes, sure. Are you sure you’re okay?”

But she had already hung up before his question was over.

***

She refused to approach the subject of New York for the entire evening, cleverly avoiding talking about it, and bluntly staring at him when he tried to bring it up. So they ate in near silence, Rhys trying and failing to make her open up to him, and then keeping quiet, hoping she might feel better if he left her alone. They washed the dishes, turned off the lights and got up to his bedroom. He was fishing out a clean pair of underpants to sleep in when he caught a glimpse of her in the mirror, seated on his bed, her hand tucked between her thighs, crying silently. He turned around and hurried to her, kneeling down in front of her.

“Feyre, what’s going on?”

She avoided his eyes, and was clenching her hands together, tears rolling down her cheeks silently. Still without looking at him, she said: “Are you… Are you mad at me?”

“What? No, of course not. Why would you think that?”

“Well… I don’t know. Because I didn’t want to talk about New York, and you might think I want to hide something from you, and be mad.” Her voice had grown quieter as she talked, and she looked so sad, Rhys decided then and there that if he ever met her ex-boyfriend, he wouldn’t mind punching him in the face once or twice.

“Feyre, please, look at me.” And he was pleading her, pleading because he wanted her to look into his eyes and understand that he would never react like that, with her or anyone else. She met his eyes but she was still sobbing silently, her beautiful face stained by tears, and her eyes red. “Feyre, you don’t have to tell me everything. Ever. If you don’t want to tell me about something, it’s absolutely fine, and normal.” He rested his hands on her thighs gently. “I simply stopped talking about it because I thought I was annoying you, and I thought you’d feel better if I left it alone. I’m sorry, I didn’t want to make it worse.”

He stopped talking and let her cry, not wanting to make her feel like she had to stop before she felt better. She cried for a while longer, and then she managed to calm down enough to take in deep breaths. He got up from his knees, sat down beside her and gently took her head between his hand. He brushed away her tears with his thumbs, and slowly, so that she’d understand what he was doing and stop him if she wanted to, he hugged her. She gripped his jumper and he tightened his grip on her back, pulling her even closer to him.

“I don’t think I’m going to go to New York,” her voice was a mere whisper, as if she was indeed telling him a secret, but she was steady.

“Can I ask you why?” He kept his voice equally low.

“I don’t think it’s going to be worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“I’m not good enough to do this job, Rhys. And even if I was, even if the people I’d met with liked my work… I would never be able to deliver.”

“Why would you think that? You’ve been doing this job for years.”

“But this is different. It’s… It’s such a big commitment. If I do agree to work with them, I’ll probably be involved in this project for years. It’s seven books to illustrate. It would take so long, and I can’t guarantee them that I’ll be able to manage it.”

He gently forced her to move away from him so that he could look her in the eyes when he answered:

“Feyre, this is your job, and from what you’ve shown me, you’re pretty good at it. I have no doubt that if you start working with them, you’ll deliver every single piece of art they need. And every single one of them will be beautiful.”

She gave him a sad smile, and it broke his heart a little, because he could see that she didn’t believe him, that she simply smiled because she thought he was only trying to reassure her. Gods, he wanted to help her so much it hurt, he could feel his heart break at the sight of her being so sad. He couldn’t stand to know that she didn’t believe in herself, when he himself believed in her more than he could express. And it seemed that there was nothing he could say or do that would change her feeling of being worthless.

“Feyre, why do you think you can’t manage?”

“Because… My job, it’s not serious. Working with your hobby, that’s not something serious, that’s not something you can do for your entire life. Drawing and painting, I never learned properly, I was never trained. And untrained skills are useless in the professional world, I wouldn’t be able to hold my own in such a big project.”

And then he knew. He knew why she was feeling so unconfident. And he was boiling with rage at the idea. But he needed to be sure:

“Did he tell you that? Did he call your talents useless and tell you that you couldn’t work with them?” Her silence was answer enough, and he wanted to cry. “Shit Feyre. You are so talented. What you’re able to create, what comes to life under your touch, it’s a gift. And it’s beautiful. Maybe you weren’t trained, but I have absolutely no doubt that you’ll be able to meet any challenge that comes your way. You’re strong, and you’re stubborn enough not to let anyone tell you otherwise.” She chuckled slightly at that, sniffing after her tears, “Feyre, I think you should go to New York, because you might regret it if you don’t. And I’m sure you won’t regret going. Worse thing happens, you don’t like it, you tell them that you don’t want to work with them, and you come back home. Free trip to New York!”

She actually laughed at his sloppy attempt at a joke, and wiped her eyes to get rid of the last tears lingering in them. His chest tightened, and he resisted the urge to take her in his arms again, allowing her space to breathe. When she looked at him once more, there was still sadness in her eyes, but it was coated with a joyful brightness that reflected in her smile. She advanced and kissed him fully, her lips wet and salty, and he kissed her back, hugging her against him.

***

She arrived at her desk the next morning rested and smiling softly. What had happened the night before had been… amazing. Rhysand had been amazing. She’d had one of her most awful days in a long time, and still he had found the right words, given her the exact amount of reassuring and affection and space to sort it out. He’d given her space, had allowed her to cry for as long as she’d needed it, not commenting on it, not asking for her to calm down. And she had felt so much better afterwards. She couldn’t exactly say that she was confident about her abilities to work on the project, but at least she was ready to try. She opened her computer and typed an answer:

RE: John Helvar - Illustrated edition - Trip to NYC?

From: arch.feyre@gmail.com

To: john.helvar@gmail.com

Draft written on: Wednesday, October 31st at 9:12 a.m.

Hello John,

Thank you for your email. I am thrilled that you liked my ideas for your book, and would love to come to New York next week to discuss it further with you and your associates. I am available on the dates you gave me, so feel free to book those days for our meeting. Please find enclosed a copy of my personal information for any booking you might have to make regarding this trip.

Looking forward to seeing you again,

Greetings from Velaris.

Feyre.

Looking at her screen, she exhaled loudly and clicked send, afraid she might lose her nerves if she waited any longer.

She was going to New York.

[rose-of-pollux]

Quiz thing

Tagged by @belphegor1982​

When did you last sing to yourself?

This morning, and it was Queen’s “I Want it All.”

If a crystal ball could tell you the truth about anything, what would you want to know?

“What are my finches actually saying about me?”

Rest under the cut--

What is the greatest accomplishment of your life?

Getting my master’s degree in biology/my thesis project on finch learning.

What is the first happy memory that comes to mind, recent or otherwise?

Traveling in New York City with @ksturf​, seeing Anastasia on Broadway and catching 100 Unowns.

Do you have a bucket list? if so, what are the top three things?

Not really.  I want to publish a thing, though.

Do you feel you had a happy childhood?

I think so!

When did you last cry in front of another person?

Ummm... I honestly don’t remember.

Pick a person to stargaze with you and explain why you picked them

...Does the person have to be living?  My answer depends on that. XD

Would you ever have a deep conversation with a stranger and open up to them?

No, but it’s been my experience that strangers like opening up to me for some reason. *shrug emoji*

When was your last 3am conversation with someone, and who were they to you?

Back when I was doing my master’s, my procrastination habit had come back to bite me hard, and I had left a first draft of a term paper on crocodilian behavior til the night before it was due.  It was @ksturf​ who got to hear me screeching into the void at 3AM as I got the thing done (time zone differences made it not as bad for her).  That is the last time I ever stayed up that late.

(The kicker to this is that 1. I was one of two people who turned the first draft in on time, and 2. My professor said that it was “Such a wonderful first draft and very clear that I spent so much time and effort on it” that I didn’t need to revise it and would get an A on it.  Lesson learned: it’s easy to bluff your way through a term paper--even at 3AM--if it’s something that genuinely interests you)

What is your opinion on brown eyes?

...I love them.  And I would say that even if I didn’t have them myself--because ^he does.

Pick a quote and describe what it means to you personally

"...I’ve enjoyed a lifetime of adventures around the world...” -- Robert Vaughn.

Honestly, it means so much to me--he lived such a full and fulfilling life, and if I even accomplish a fraction of the things he was able to do, that will be time well-spent.

What would you title the autobiography of your life so far?

The Life and Times of a Scatterbrained Writer

What would you do with one billion dollars?

Keep/save enough to live comfortably (maybe slightly frivolously--gotta have my Nintendo games and fandom merch), make sure my best friend also lives comfortably, some for my family, and give whatever we don’t need to those who do.

Are you a very forgiving person?  Do you like being this way?

Hahahaha... No, but I am very good at hiding it.  Should I be better?  Yeah.  Will I?  *shrugs*  Who knows...

Would you describe yourself as more punk or pastel?

Pastel, I guess?

How do you feel about tattoos and piercings?  Explain

Tattoos aren’t for me, nor are piercings other than ears.  And I have such a low pain tolerance that I probably wouldn’t have gotten my ears pierced if my mother hadn’t had it done when I was a toddler (my mother was a traditionally-raised Hindu who had only emigrated to the States from India a few years prior, and toddlers getting their ears pierced is a tradition going back literally thousands of years; getting a nose piercing as a mark of adulthood is also a tradition going back thousands of years, but my response to that was a firm #NOPE, and that was the end of the conversation).

Do you wear a lot of makeup? why/why not?

Nooooooo, I hate it, I hate the way it feels on my face.

Talk about a song/band/musician/lyric that has affected your life in some way

So, Rockapella, Genesis, and Queen are three bands that I’ve known since childhood--in the case of Queen, I didn’t know it was them until I was much older (“We Will Rock You” was my hometown’s unofficial fight song for sporting events, so I’ve heard that song since elementary school--usually coupled with “We are the Champions”), and even then remained a casual fan until I watched Bohemian Rhapsody last year and just went headlong into loving them.  Freddie Mercury was an absolute legend, and finding out that he had ties to India like I did was an absolute thrill.

Rockapella were my first music loves--saw them on the Where in the World is Carmen Sandiego game show, rediscovered them years later, and never left them again.  I’ve conversed with two of the Carmen-era members online, and met two others in person.

Genesis has been my musical fixed point, along with Bryan Adams.  I’ve just constantly been listening to them throughout my life.

The Monkees brought me to tumblr and subsequently led to my meeting people here that I’m still in touch with, even if I’ve drifted away from the fandom.

And Zach Adkins holds a special place for me, as well, seeing him as Dmitry in the Anastasia musical with @ksturf.

List the concerts you have been to and talk about how they make you feel

So, I have seen Rockapella in concert 3 times, the Monkees twice, and a solo Nez concert once.

The Nez concert was in 2013, before the more recent... clouds covered the sun, shall we say?  I had a wonderful time at the time, and many good memories, and I feel awful that things have come to this--especially when a good portion of it seems to not be in Nez’s control at all.  It’s a dang shame, but I’ll cherish the memories I have.

The two Monkees concerts were in 2012 and 2014.  The 2012 “Gazpacho tour” was truly a remarkable thing--honestly, I don’t think anyone saw a tour coming after Davy had passed, and suddenly, here it was--and I remember the night before the official announcement, when Nez had teased us and everyone here was going absolutely bonkers over the possibility, before he broke the news before the official announcement.  And then, the concert itself... there was something magical that night, undoubtedly--Micky having us, the audience, sing Davy’s signature song, “Daydream Believer,” saying that it belonged to us now.  It was so sad and wonderful at the same time.  The 2014 tour had a more upbeat and celebratory feel to it, sort of the promise that the daydream was still alive.

The first two Rockapella concerts were before my Carmen Sandiego Renaissance; they just happened to be performing in my hometown twice, so I went to see them because “Oh, these guys!” (though only two of the guys from the Carmen era were actually still with the band).  I had a great time, but it was nothing like the third time, when I went because I had rediscovered how much they’d meant to me (and drove over an hour in a snowstorm to see them.  Abysmally foolish?  Yes.  Do I regret it?  Absolutely not).  The third time was also when I got to meet the two Carmen-era guys (and the new guys) after the concert, which was... more amazing than I can ever describe.

Who in the world would you most like to receive a letter from and what would you want it to say?

I would have loved to have received a reply to the fan letter I had sent Robert Vaughn just two months before he had passed.  Obviously, I learned after the fact that he probably had been too sick to reply, but a reply I would have wanted would have been... just him knowing that he knew how much I admired him, and how much better he had made the world.

Do you have a desk/workspace and how is it organized/not organized?

Hahahahahaha, no.  I’m the most disorganized person in existence.  Any computer stuff I do on the couch.

What is your night time routine?

Dinner, toss around story ideas, make sure the finches are roosting/turn their light off, eventually sneak into bed as quietly as I can so as not to disturb the finches.

What’s one thing you don’t want your parents to know?

How unhealthily I eat some days...

If you had to dye your hair how would you dye/style it and why?

Nooooo, I wouldn’t want to...

Pick five people to go on an excursion with you. who would you pick and where would you go/what would you do?

...I don’t do groups well; I’d just pick @ksturf and we’d go back to New York City.  Or maybe Hollywood this time, who knows?  Sightseeing and things--catch some Pokémon, too....

Name three wishes and why you wish for them

I wish:

I had enough money so that I and those I care about could live comfortably (self-explanatory)

That I could understand what birds were saying, and they could understand me (as someone who did a thesis on bird learning and behavior and has been trolled multiple times by multiple birds [including my own], I have personal questions I want answered).

That Robert Vaughn was still here (again... self-explanatory)

What is the best Halloween costume you have ever put together?  If none, make one up

I put together an awesome Carmen Sandiego costume in like... 2011?  Everyone knew exactly who I was.

What’s one thing you would never do for one million dollars?

...There are a lot of things I would never do for a million dollars.

What’s your Starbucks order, and who would you trust to order for you, if anyone?

Dragonfruit refresher with lemonade.  @ksturf is the one I trust.

What is the most important thing to you in your life right now?

Well, I just wrapped up my one-year position as a lab tech, so finding where I go from here is pretty much the biggest thing right now...