#around 25-26 thousand words in total | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

wordsinwinters · 3 years

Text

Then Again, Chapter 4: Smudging Marks

Summary: After an intense fight and a forced-to-share-the-bed situation during their junior year decathlon trip, Peter and the Reader examine their faults and failings. As they attempt to fix their mistakes and improve their friendship, that friendship quickly begins to evolve into something else.

Betas: @fanboyswhereare-you and @girl-tips-from-satan

Masterlist (with AO3 links)

Then Again, Chapter 4: Smudging Marks

(Word count: 1,273)

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4, Part 5, Part 6, Part 7, Part 8, Part 9, Part 10, Part 11, Part 12, Part 13, Part 14, Part 15, Part 16, Part 17, Part 18, Part 19, Part 20, Part 21, Part 22, Part 23, Part 24, Part 25, Part 26, Part 27, Part 28, Part 29,

I wake up to brown eyes in the almost-dark. (I’ve imagined this in a slightly different context a hundred times by now.)

Peter’s lightly shaking me awake. And Michelle, by default, who smacks him away. Despite former promises not to cuddle her, I must have latched on at some point last night, like always. The fact that I’m not on the floor is another reason I love Michelle. For all her tough talk, she’s as soft as a pillow. Actually, that’s not completely true. A pillow would be more comfortable to sleep on. And Michelle is the fiercest person I know— when the stakes are higher than sleeping arrangements.

I detangle myself from her and smile at Peter, hoping today is different.

Peter smiles back. It’s small, but it’s there.

“Shower open?” I whisper.

“Yeah. When did MJ want to get up? Aunt May said she’ll make pancakes once everyone is awake.”

I squint at the clock. 6:13 a.m.

“7. But she’ll settle for 6:45 if she smells food.”

Peter nods. My eyes adjust a bit and I force myself up, into the hallway, and around to the bathroom. At the door, I hear May and Ned talking quietly in Peter’s room. If I were less tired, I might eavesdrop. But I’m not. Ned will probably tell me anyway.

During my slightly too-long shower, I try my best to stop thinking about Peter and last night and his eyes before the dirt comment and this morning and the thousands of impossible future scenarios that would link those moments together under more favorable conditions. For months now, I’ve spent most of my time thinking about Peter Parker and how I need to stop thinking about Peter Parker. Again, endlessly, it doesn’t work.

After pancakes, May drives us to school where the bus and rest of the team wait. She hugs each of us individually, wishing us luck and reminding us to keep her updated by texts and calls.

“I know how competitive all of you are,” May says with a smile, “but remember that this trip is a chance to have fun and act like real teenagers for a few days.”

Her smile relaxes as she looks pointedly to Peter.

“Okay? Just remember the stuff we talked about. Be a little more adventurous.”

“More adventurous?” Peter asks. “Are you sure?”

May’s hands go to her hips.

“You know exactly what I mean. And I’m going to check up on things. Count on that.”

This seems soaked in subtext, though I have no idea what sort. I should talk to Ned.

“Alright kids, come back in one last time.”

May binds us all into a group hug before kissing our foreheads. I maneuver to the end of the line for this one (least amount of forehead lipstick). Ned gets it worst, Peter plenty, and Michelle a smudge. Hopefully I have nothing.

May must realize this, because she musses up my hair afterward and laughs.

“I’m going to force Peter to do that every night while you guys are away. How will you kids survive without a full balance of Parker love?”

Peter starts to say something in an exasperated tone as his cheeks turn pink but she shakes her head and laughs again. At the same time, I try to suppress the warmth I feel tickling my neck. If Peter ever kissed my forehead and then did that to my hair….

“I’m only half serious. Totally serious. But anyway, I love you guys and I’ll be here when you come back!”

We walk to the bus where Mr. Harrington and the rest of the team are talking. Peter, Michelle, and I try to discreetly wipe our foreheads with our sleeves.

“Ned? You’ve got… a lot,” I say, gesturing.

He smiles.

“I know.”

“Oh come on, man,” Peter says. “Seriously?”

Mr. Harrington counts each member of the team and passes around a sign-up sheet before we can step onto the bus. As the last three of us approach the door, Flash taps Peter’s shoulder.

“What’s that?” he asks, pointing above Peter’s eyes to the circle of smudged red. As Peter opens his mouth, Flash nails his forehead with the heel of his hand. “What? Somebody already do that?”

Without thinking, I jam my knee into the back of Flash’s leg. He falls with the most unflattering huh-yuht sound I’ve ever heard as he hits his head on the bus door. My heart is racing.

What just happened?

Peter pauses, his mouth in a tight line. He steps over Flash and onto the bus. At the top of the stairs, he turns and waits for me. Flash stands up and tries to play it cool.

“I get it. Making me eat dirt. You wanna recreate some childhood memories?”

I notice the red mark now on his forehead, a mirror of Peter’s. I can’t think of anything to say. I’m still processing the fact that he actually hit Peter. And that nobody on the bus saw it, judging by the lack of Mr. Harrington’s voice. I could kill him. I could really kill him.

I shove Flash out of my way and go to sit with my friends. I can’t believe him.

Michelle being chosen as our captain is the best thing to happen to our team. Particularly because Mr. Harrington lets her arrange which rooms all of us sleep in as a privilege.

The list goes:

MJ and Y/N

Peter and Ned

Cindy and Sally

Abraham and Eugene

(Anytime she writes our names down for anything, she always writes “Eugene” instead of “Flash.” He has made many public protests about it.)

Our room is right next to Ned and Peter’s, at the opposite end of the hall from Mr. Harrington. If we’re too loud or if we stay up too late, the chance of being caught is slim. (Not that we would ever stay up late enough to compromise the competition… just a little after curfew. The following night we’ll stay awake until some time in the morning.)

Now that the half tense (me, Peter, and Flash), half friendly (everyone else) team bus ride is over, MJ and I get to unpack. But first I need to tell her about what happened earlier.

“Flash hit Peter,” I blurt.

“What do you mean?”

“He made a comment about the mark from May’s lipstick and he hit him. Just—!”

I make the motion with my hand.

“Are you serious? Why didn’t you guys say anything to Mr. Harrington? Or me or Ned? I’m team captain, I could have—”

“Because,” I rush, “Peter acted like it didn’t happen, and when he didn’t say anything I got a feeling he might get angry with me if I did, and yesterday was so awful. I think he wants this year’s trip to be normal, you know, compared to last year? I just had no idea what he wanted me to do.”

Michelle takes a breath.

“So, you did nothing?”

“I mean, I kind of got Flash back for it? He hit the door with his head and got the wind knocked out of him.”

It’s not enough, I know. Talking about it has me worked up again. I could kill him. I’m sure Michelle feels the same way, given her current expression.

“Ask Peter about it,” she suggests. “If he says drop it, we drop it. If he says anything else, we go from there.”

I nod. Slowly we begin to unpack.

Drawers are being opened and closed as we both turn to each other at the same time and say the same thing:

“I could kill Flash.”

Next chapter

Tag List: If you’d like to be tagged, send me a(n) ask/message or reply to this post!

*Notice: If you reply, I may not respond back; if you need/want confirmation, send me an ask/message instead :)

#peter parker x reader #peter parker x you #peter parker imagine #tom holland x reader #tom holland x you #tom holland imagine

21 notes · View notes

lilydalexf · 4 years

Photo

Old School X is a project interviewing X-Files fanfic authors who were posting fic during the original run of the show. New interviews are posted every Tuesday.

Interview with Piper Sargasso

Piper Sargasso has 25 stories at Gossamer, but don’t miss her website where the fics each have cover collage art. If you are a fan of Mulder/Scully romance, there are a lot of MSR fics to read that are set in different seasons of the show. But like the show that never stuck to one type of story, Piper’s stories have variety, so you can also find AUs and /Other. Big thanks to Piper for doing this interview.

Does it surprise you that people are still interested in reading your X-Files fanfics and others that were posted during the original run of the show (1993-2002)?

It does, but I love that people are still into it! Writers back in the day put so much work and love into their writing, and it's nice to know that the stories are still being appreciated to this day. As for my own stories, it puts a huge smile on my face to know there are still people out there checking them out and hopefully enjoying them.

What do you think of when you think about your X-Files fandom experience? What did you take away from it?

It was such a positive period of my life. I made some amazing friends who became something like older sisters (and some brothers) to me, even though I was a little ridiculous when I was in my early to mid-twenties. It was also a much-needed confidence booster. I was a pretty shy person and loved writing, but never had the nerve to show anything to anyone. My first fanfic was completely horrible, but because of it I made my first XF friend and super beta, Mimic117. Between her guidance and the encouraging words from my Yahoo group I was able to do something I really loved and felt great about myself and my abilities for the first time. That will stay with me forever. That first story was truly atrocious, but it was a catalyst for great things in my life when I needed them the most.

Social media didn't really exist during the show's original run. How were you most involved with the X-Files online (atxc, message board, email mailing list, etc.)?

I remember trying this cool new thing called an AOL chat room, but they were more interested in perving on each other than talking about the show. Once I knew about fanfiction I kept seeing that some of my favorite authors kept mentioning IWTBXF in their notes, a Yahoo group named I Want to Believe. I looked it up, joined, and with great trepidation made my introductory post. Everyone was so warm and welcoming, and talking to my favorite authors in the group was a little like meeting a celebrity and finding out that they're awesome in real life. After IWTBXF fell apart, an off-shoot called Beyond the Sea was created with almost all of the original group transferring over. I stuck to my little family there and didn't branch out into much else, other than the rare dip into Haven. Ephemeral and Gossamer, of course.

What did you take away from your experience with X-Files fic or with the fandom in general?

Mostly the overwhelming feeling of acceptance and confidence to write, something I was sorely lacking before in my life. I fell in with the best group, that's for sure! They made me feel like being a professional writer could be an achievable goal.

What was it that got you hooked on the X-Files as a show?

The commercial advertising. The pilot spoke to my supernatural-loving, angsty 15 year-old soul. I watched it religiously every week. There was nothing like it. It was off-beat, but serious (most of the time) and fulfilled my insatiable craving for the paranormal and weird. You just couldn't get that from Melrose Place and Beavis and Butthead, you know? It definitely helped that David Duchovny was adorable and the character of Scully was the strong and intelligent icon we needed in the 90's and beyond.

What got you involved with X-Files fanfic?

In high school I had a friend who was as obsessed with the show as I was. Maybe more, since she once had a slumber party that was exclusively to binge watch her taped episodes (the other girls who wanted to mess around with spells and the Ouija board weren't thrilled that she couldn't be swayed away from it) and she often drove me from play rehearsals in her convertible with the top down and the theme song blasting to the heavens, much to my delight and mortification. A couple years after we graduated she told me about the piece of fanfic she wrote. Insert a record screech here. What?! You mean there are thousands of stories dedicated to my favorite show? And hundreds more get added every month?! I was obsessed. If I could've stopped working and slept at my computer desk I would have.

What is your relationship like now to X-Files fandom?

Sadly it's nonexistent these days. I have great memories and it holds a big piece of my heart, but I haven't been active in a long time. I would love to see a huge revival, and would definitely want to be involved in that in some way, were it to happen.

Were you involved with any fandoms after the X-Files? If so, what was it like compared to X-Files?

I read a lot of Harry Potter fanfiction for a while, but I never could expend the kind of energy and time I did for the X-Files fandom. It came at a perfect time in my life, and so far nothing else has measured up to it.

Who are some of your favorite fictional characters? Why?

Besides XF characters? Off the top of my head I really love Hermione Granger, Buffy Summers, Elizabeth Bennet, and Claire Fraser for their sass and strength of character, Severus Snape for his complexity, and Christina Ricci's version of Wednesday Addams for her pure awesomeness. She's pretty much my spirit animal.

Do you ever still watch The X-Files or think about Mulder and Scully?

I do occasionally. I watched the series from season 1-7 so many times that I started to burn out, but I get on my X-Files kicks sometimes and binge it again.

Do you ever still read X-Files fic? Fic in another fandom?

Like with the show, I'll get nostalgic and need to consume all the fanfics my greedy little eyes can behold until I move on to something else. It can feel a little lonely though, if you'll excuse the drama. We're not in the heyday anymore, so it feels a little like walking through a ghost town. Many of the stories out there are suspended in time because the show ended, or people stopped writing.

Do you have any favorite X-Files fanfic stories or authors?

I know I have dozens, but I'm drawing a blank. My ultimate favorite is any well-written MSR casefile with UST finally resulting in RST. Those are my unicorns!

What is your favorite of your own fics, X-Files and/or otherwise?

I have a silly one called Baby, It's Cold Outside that I sometimes read around Christmastime. It was a fluffy song-fic, but I can see the scene so clearly in my mind when I read it and it's just pure fun. I also like my Donnie Pfaster series. I can see the potential in my writing with those, which makes me feel I could really write something special someday. Plus, he's such an interesting little slimeball to write and read about. Bless his heart.

Do you think you'll ever write another X-Files story? Or dust off and post an oldie that for whatever reason never made it online?

I still think about the two WIPs I haven't finished. I wrote myself into a corner with This Mortal Coil, and honestly I think it needs a total overhaul. I think Dana Scully's Diary would be a fun one to finish. I hate that I never finished them.

Do you still write fic now? Or other creative work?

I think about writing fanfic now and then and I've had a couple original novels sketched out, but there are so many other demands on my time that I haven't gotten very far. I still plan to see the novels through, even if no one but interested friends and family read them.

Where do you get ideas for stories?

I used to watch an episode and really study the actors' expressions and actions, always trying to find new angles to the stories we all know. A lot of times things would just come to me and I'd get so excited I couldn't sleep until I wrote a good chunk of it down.

What's the story behind your pen name?

The friend who introduced me to fanfic told me the best way to choose a pen name was to make sure it derives from the show. For a couple days I looked at the titles and summaries of episodes and agonized over just the right name. Finally Piper Maru and the summary from Triangle, which mentions the Sargasso sea, stood out and just clicked.

Do your friends and family know about your fic and, if so, what have been their reactions?

My now husband always knew, and he thought it was cool that I had a hobby that made me so happy, but he was never a reader. My parents found out when I was about 24 and my step-dad would tell EVERYONE about it, much to my horror. Most reactions were of the bland, "Oh yeah? That's nice." variety but I definitely got some weird looks from others. The worst was when I found out how much of my racier MSR stories my parents read. My step-dad thought it was hilarious and teased me a little. My usually open-minded mom was uncomfortable, but tried to be supportive. It's all fun and games until your daughter starts writing psuedo-erotica for anyone to see!

Is there a place online (tumblr, twitter, AO3, etc.) where people can find you and/or your stories now?

Circe Invidiosa very generously hosts a page for me at http://pipers.invidiosa.com.

(Posted by Lilydale on January 26, 2021)

#new post #old school x #xfiles fanfic #xf fanfic #xf fanfic author interviews #piper sargasso

26 notes · View notes

reading-writing-revolution · 5 years

Text

From the horse’s mouth. In this case jackass is more like it

Trump’s words, to date (March 6 is especially busy), the best words:

January 22: “We have it totally under control. It’s one person coming in from China. It’s going to be just fine.”

February 2: “We pretty much shut it down coming in from China.”

February 24: “The Coronavirus is very much under control in the USA… Stock Market starting to look very good to me!”

February 25: “CDC and my Administration are doing a GREAT job of handling Coronavirus.”

February 25: “I think that's a problem that’s going to go away… They have studied it. They know very much. In fact, we’re very close to a vaccine.”

February 26: “The 15 (cases in the US) within a couple of days is going to be down to close to zero.”

February 26: “We're going very substantially down, not up.”

February 27: “One day it’s like a miracle, it will disappear.”

February 28: “We're ordering a lot of supplies. We're ordering a lot of, uh, elements that frankly we wouldn't be ordering unless it was something like this. But we're ordering a lot of different elements of medical.”

March 2: “You take a solid flu vaccine, you don't think that could have an impact, or much of an impact, on corona?”

March 2: “A lot of things are happening, a lot of very exciting things are happening and they’re happening very rapidly.”

March 4: “If we have thousands or hundreds of thousands of people that get better just by, you know, sitting around and even going to work — some of them go to work, but they get better.”

March 5: “I NEVER said people that are feeling sick should go to work.”

March 5: “The United States… has, as of now, only 129 cases… and 11 deaths. We are working very hard to keep these numbers as low as possible!”

March 6: “I think we’re doing a really good job in this country at keeping it down… a tremendous job at keeping it down.”

March 6: “Anybody right now, and yesterday, anybody that needs a test gets a test. They’re there. And the tests are beautiful…. the tests are all perfect like the letter was perfect. The transcription was perfect. Right? This was not as perfect as that but pretty good.”

March 6: “I like this stuff. I really get it. People are surprised that I understand it… Every one of these doctors said, ‘How do you know so much about this?’ Maybe I have a natural ability. Maybe I should have done that instead of running for president.”

March 6: “I don't need to have the numbers double because of one ship that wasn't our fault.”

March 8: “We have a perfectly coordinated and fine tuned plan at the White House for our attack on CoronaVirus.”

March 9: “This blindsided the world.”

March 13: "I take no responsibility."

242 notes · View notes

cuntylittlesalmon · 4 years

Text

week of 11/22-11/28 & 11/29 & 11/30

bro 😳 we are at the END !!! i had originally drafted up something to go out on saturday talking about how close we were to the end, but i ended up taking too long. and here we are now, on the 30th with a manuscript of fifty thousand words. it feels good to have gotten this far. i have up on using an outline pretty quickly, and discover write for a large portion of what i have now and i think i’m better for it! i have a much stronger idea of the plot & storyline than i did on november first

11/22 - 2366 | 11/23 - 1757 | 11/24 - 1725 | 11/25 - 1804 | 11/26 - 1643 | 11/27 - 911 | 11/28 - 1761 | 11/29 - 1878 | 11/30 - 1986

total nano word count: 50039 / 50000

"It'll be alright," he whispers, a hand stroking the back of her head. She wants to believe him, oh, she really does. But there's no way to deal with this in any sane way.

"Are-are you sure about that?" she asks, and she hates the way her voice breaks in the middle of the sentence.

Ashton nuzzles against her head and presses another kiss to her temple. The tears are falling now, and he can't not know since she's wetting the shoulder of his button-up and sniffling.

"I hate that fucking guy!" She spots a trashcan next to her, and gives it a hard kick. A guy walking further down the hall glances back and speeds his pace up, to get away from them. "Dude literally can never stay out of everyone's business!" She gives the trashcan another kick, leaving a visible dent in the aluminum.

Maddox catches up with the two of them now, only one arm through her jacket. "What the fuck?"

"That guy—Mick," Adelaida says, adjusting her bag. "He's a genuine piece of shit. Timo's told me a lot about him, and all I wanna do is sock that guy right in the jaw."

This seems to snap him out of his trance, but instead of answering her, John grabs her wrist and yanks hard on her hand, his other hand swinging for her face. Maddox jerks back in time for his fist to fly past her face, and she jabs her fingers into his shoulder, which, considering how her ribs felt after Adelaida had her way, should still be sore right now.

He yelps out in pain, distracted enough for Maddox to twist the hand he has a hold of around, and force his arm behind him, effectively pinning his arm to his back, and him down on his knees. His free hand jerks upwards, but Maddox forces it down with her foot, a sickening pop escaping from where her boot is pressed to the floor. To further push her point, Maddox digs her fingers into his hair and yanks his head backward to force him to look at her.

"Yeah, yeah," Maddox says, leading the way out of the bar. "Just drive me home, old man."

"That's Uncle old man, to you," he replies as he locks the doors. She just nudges him with her hips, nearly losing her balance. Yeah, she's way drunker than she thought she was.

Braden forces out a laugh. "If you call telling my little sister to stop lying all the goddamn time an intervention, then sure." Cassie doesn't have anything to say to that.

"It's called classified information, you fuckin' nut. I'm not tellin' you this because it doesn't concern you."

At the end of the table, Taegan reaches out for the coffee pot without lifting her head off the table. Victoriette almost laughs until her fingers brush against the side of the scalding glass and she hears the noise of flesh sizzling. Taegan isn't going to feel it, but—

"Oh my god—" Dani interrupts, immediately standing and grabbing Taegan's hand.

"And you were a jock, so what? Your style of oversized hoodies and track pants wasn't that sexy either." She hunches back into the fridge, checking out whatever is on the bottom shelf, and Maddox slides off the counter to wrap her arm around Cassie's waist.

"Yet you still fell in love with me," she says, leaning over to kiss the back of Cassie's neck. "Shitty track pants and all."

"No—nope. Despite the shitty track pants." She straightens back up again, pressing back into Maddox. "They were some heinous pants."

tag list under the cut ♥️✨

@linariouswrites @maleficmalachai @cream-and-tea @ravens-and-rivers @chroniczombiegf @antique-symbolism-main @wynter-of-dusk @alias-levi @writingbyjillian @selenthediscountvamp @isherwoodj @aetherwrites @melpomeny @ezrathings @chloeswords @kitblogsthings @alicewestwater @avi-burton-writing @elaichichais @radiomacbeth @sunwornpages @discreet-writer @donghyeuck @spillme @ryns-ramblings @lesbianechinocereus

#nanowrimo #nanowrimo update #atlastracking #writeblr #writblr #writerblr #writers on tumblr #original fiction #original work #fantasy #dark fantasy #urban fantasy #wip: blood is thicker

20 notes · View notes

suitofvibraniumarmor · 4 years

Text

** Writing Challenge **

I know, I know, my next one isn’t quite wrapped up yet, buttttt this idea came to me when my cousin and I were taking a walk down a ridiculous part of Memory Lane and I got excited. I’m guessing this has been done before at some point -- that’s not stopping me from presenting to you:

I love fluff. And I wanna see more of it!

Below the cut you will find some prompts that, in the context of Twilight, are absolutely cringe-worthy. My challenge to you is to take that prompt and make it something we can love.

Disclaimer: I’m not Twilight-shaming ANYONE. I literally sat and watched all of Eclipse and now want to watch both Breaking Dawns. It’s more about sentiment, and the occasional girly giggle for me, but ... yeah. No judgement here, friends.

Guidelines, prompts, and tags are below the cut! (Yes, I copied and tweaked from my last writing challenge. I’m being efficient, thank you! :P )

Please read all of the information carefully!

Rules, Guidelines, Important Dates:

Sign-Ups start when this post is live and will go through to December 30, 2020. I will accept two people for each prompt, one prompt per author.

Please send your sign-ups to my ask box so they’re easier to keep track of. I will answer them privately so I’m not flooding anyone’s dash!

In your ask, please include your preferred prompt and a backup option, as well as your pairing (so I don’t take the same pairing for the same prompt). Also, please let me know if you’ll be posting from a URL other than one you’re asking from.

To be included in the challenge masterlist, please post your fic (or the first part, if it’s a series) by Decemeber 31, 2020.

Please include an author’s note tagging me and mentioning the challenge in your fic post; include #BetterThanTwilightWC in the first five tags. If the tag doesn’t work, you may DM the link to me, also. If you decide to write a series, please tag me in the masterlist.

Please give me up to 48 hours to read your fic before checking if I have seen it. If I have not liked it after 48 hours, please DO check. (You know, since we’re all aware of how unreliable tumblr is. And how unreliable my mind can be. Yikes.)

The challenge masterlist will be posted between January 1 and January 4, 2020.

There are no word count limits, but please use the Keep Reading feature if your story goes beyond 500 words. Additionally, if your fic goes beyond 5000 words, please consider splitting it into multiple parts. This is not a requirement, only something to think about.

Yes, this is a FLUFF challenge, so you MUST have fluff as your main genre. You’re more than welcome to include other genres, but you MUST have a happy and/or hopeful ending.

You’re welcome to think outside of the box! Just because I’m talking Twilight and love stories, doesn’t mean there has to be romance! Give me amazing friendships or strong family bonds or self-love. Or romance! Whatever you’d like.

You're welcome to change pronouns in the prompt as necessary! Heck, I tweaked a few of ‘em so they’re not Twilight-specific.

For personal reasons, I do not read and will not accept into the challenge (which means I will not reblog or add to the masterlist) stories that include: non-con/dub-con, underage sex, adult-child romantic/sexual relationships, spouse-bashing, child abuse – I could go on, but I think you get the idea. If you’re not sure about something, I’m always happy to answer questions!

Bring on the ships, OC’s, reader pairings – I’m trying to be more open-minded as of late, but I can’t promise that I will read everything. Again, for personal reasons. But I will reblog everything!

Characters and RPFs from Marvel/MCU are both welcome.

If you need an extension or need to drop out, please know that I am extremely flexible when it comes to that deadline/due date. In the words of Captain Barbosa, “It’s really more of a guideline.” Just shoot me an ask or a message and we’ll work something out, no worries!

Prompts:

1. “I have always loved you, and I will always love you.” 2. “The clouds I can handle. But I can’t fight with an eclipse.” 3. “I know what you are.” 4. “You held out your hand and I took it without stopping to make sense of what I was doing.” 5. “You have a connection with her that I’ll never understand.” 6. “I’m glad she has you.” 7. “It will be like I never existed. I promise.” 8. “I knew who I wanted to be. I wanted to help people. Brings me happiness.” 9. “That will take a while to get used to.” “We have a while.” 10. “What if I’m not the hero? What if I’m the bad guy?” 11. “I’d rather hear your theories.” 12. (sarcastically) “Super. That makes me really happy.” 13. “You’re like my own personal brand of heroin.” 14. “Maybe I shouldn’t be dating such an old man. It’s gross. I should be thoroughly repulsed.” 15. “It’s an extraordinary thing to meet someone who you can bare your soul to and they’ll accept you for what you are.” 16. “I’ve been waiting for what seems like a very long time to get beyond what I am.” 17. “I feel like I can finally begin.” 18. “He’s totally gorgeous, obviously. But apparently nobody here is good enough for him.” 19. “He did say I couldn’t step inside the door. I came in through the window.” 20. “I know things. Like how to hunt somebody to the ends of the earth. And I know how to use a gun.” 21. “Now I’m afraid.” “Good.” 22. “I’m not afraid of you. I’m only afraid of losing you.” 23. “About three things I was absolutely positive ...” 24. “You’re so stubborn.” 25. “Do you know how worried I’ve been?” 26. “I can’t even think about someone hurting you.” 27. “The only thing that can hurt me is you, and I don’t have anything else to be afraid of.” 28. “Don’t antagonize her. She’s the strongest one in the house.” 29. “All right. That’s enough experimenting for one day.” 30. “It never made sense for you to love me.” 31. “I wish there had been someone to vote no for me.” 32. “It’s just a little baby.” 33. “How strongly are you opposed to grand theft auto?” 34. “I’m not missing another fight!” 35. “No one can hide like me.” 36. “If I asked you to stay in the car, would you?” 37. “I have one condition, if you want me to do it myself.” 38. “I had an adrenaline rush. It’s very common. You can Google it.” 39. “How did you get in here?” “The window.” 40. “I love a happy ending. They are so rare.” 41. “You should put your seatbelt on.” 42. “Can you talk about something else? Distract me so I won’t turn around.” 43. “I can’t live in a world where you don’t exist.” 44. “After all the thousand times I’ve told you I love you, how could you let one word break your faith in me?” 45. “Maybe that’s why they kicked me out.” 46. “All of my best nights have happened since I met you.” 47. “You know everybody’s staring?” “Not that guy ... no, he just looked.” 48. “She wishes she was that awesome.” 49. “Does he visit often?” “Yeah, all the time.” 50. “Lie ... Lie better.” 51. “I’m Switzerland.” 52. “That should have been our first kiss.” 53. “Would you like to hear my story? It doesn’t have a happy ending -- but which of ours does?” 54. “Another party?” “It’ll be fun.” “Yeah. That’s what you said last time.” 55. “You are the only one who has ever touched my heart. I will always be yours.” 56. “The way he watches you. It’s like he’s willing to leap in front of you and take a bullet or something.” 57. “Kill me! Not him!” 58. “Stay.” “Give me one good reason.” 59. “Yeah, it’s and off day when I don’t get somebody telling me how edible I smell.” 60. “Damn it! You’ll be the death of me, I swear you will.” 61. “If I could dream at all, it would be about you. And I’m not afraid of it.” 62. “Do I dazzle you?” 63. “I’m tired of trying to stay away from you.” 64. “Bring on the shackles, I’m your prisoner.” 65. “You are my life now.” 66. “And then we continued blissfully into this small, perfect piece of our forever.” 67. “Nobody’s ever loved someone as much as I love you.” 68. “I don’t know what happened.” “You love him.” 69. “All of sudden it’s not gravity holding you to the planet, it’s her. Nothing else matters. You would do anything, be anything for her.” 70. “You really love her?” 71. “I don’t see the whole point of the rest of the world without her.” 72. “Then I found a promising site ... I waited impatiently for it to load, quickly clicked closed each ad that flashed across the screen. Finally, the screen finished -- simple, white background with black text; academic-looking. Two quotes greeted me on the homepage:” 73. “I was unconditionally and irrevocably in love with him.” 74. “I’ll be fighting for her, too, and I’ll be fighting twice as hard as you will.” 75. “It’s always been him.” 76. “You don’t know how long I’ve waited for you.” 77. “They’re coming for her.” “They’re not gonna touch her.” 78. “Doesn’t he own a shirt?” 79. “You know, if it weren’t for the fact that we’re enemies and that you’re also trying to steal away the reason for my existence, I might actually like you.” 80. “You have disappeared. Like everything else.” 81. “The absence of him is everywhere I look.” 82. “I don’t have the strength to stay away from you anymore.” 83. “Your number was up the first time I met you.” 84. “We all like to drive fast.” 85. “It’s too easy to be myself with you.” 86. “I’ve never given much thought to how I’d die, but dying in the place of someone I love seems like a good way to go.” 87. “Don’t tempt me too far. My patience isn’t that perfect.” 88. “His tone questions my sanity, but it only made me more suspicious. It was like a perfect delivered line by a skilled actor.” 89. “What’s he mad about?” 90. “No measure of time with you will ever be enough.” 91. “I promise to love you forever, every single day of forever.” 92. “We’re gonna be great friends!” 93. “If I had my way, I would spend the majority of my time kissing him.” 94. “Until your heart stops beating.” 95. “I touched the cool miracle of his ski, and I was home.” 96. “Forbidden to remember, terrified to forget; it was a hard line to walk.” 97. “This isn’t the time to make hard and fast decisions. This is the time to make mistakes.” 98. “Leave it to you ... you have to start hanging out with the first weirdos you can find.” 99. “I love him much more than I should, and yet still nowhere near enough.” 100. “I refuse to be affected by territorial disputes.”

Tags for possible interest/signal boosting (if you’re so inclined):

@captain-s-rogers @star-spangled-man-with-a-plan @letsgetfuckingsuperwholocked @hurricanerin @horsesandbandsforlife @im-not-an-armrest-im-short @captain-rogers-beard @shynara51 @sea040561 @pinknerdpanda @xtina2191 @jackryanplz @beakami @heartsaved @fullprunerebelstatesman @blackwidowismyhomegirl @the-murder-strut-murdered-me @shield-agent78 @jennmurawski13 @okay-maybe-i-like-marvel-too

#betterthantwilightwc #twilight writing challenge #prompt list #queue and i remember budapest very differently

43 notes · View notes

hhgossip · 4 years

Photo

HIDDEN HILLS WEEKLY ISSUE #2

In this issue of Hidden Hills Weekly, we are talking about the outrageous lives of our celebrities in the gated community! We talk about polyamorous lovers to concerts in your every own kitchen!

ISABELLE AMOR’S ADDING ON TO HER POLY LIFESTYLE?

For the past week, Isabelle Amor, 28 has been in New York filming her newest show, “Only Murders In The Building.” She has been seen up and down the busy streets, filming scenes and having fun on set but fans have noticed that the singer/actress is having too much fun with her co-star. The pair have been seen getting quite cozy with one another when the cameras cut. They have been seen with big smiles and sparkles in their eyes. It comes as quite a shock as Isabelle is in an unconfirmed relationship with country music stars Annika Baddie, 25, and Cameron Nelson, 26. You did read that right, Isabelle is dating Both Annika and Cameron. They are living a polyamorous lifestyle where three people are all seeing each other.

Fans are wondering if Isabelle’s co-star is going to be added to her relationship with the country stars. Fans took it far enough to compare the relationship and pictures of Isabelle with her ex-boyfriends and current lovers to her new beau. Those pictures include her famous love story with James Hemmings, 27, with who they share one child together. Mateo Hemmings, 3. One fan stated on Twitter that - “Jelle is way more hotter than this! What is this?!” Along with the tweet was a shared picture of Belle with her co-star. While other fans tweeted that Belle looked happier with her two other loves. “Belle looks GLOWING with Ani and Cam! LET HER BE HAPPY!” Says another fan.

What do Annika and Cameron think about Isabelle potentially looking for another lover? What do you all think? Let us know!

WALLEN FATHERED A CHILD IN SECRET WITH MACKENZIE?

On February 26, 2021, the multi-talented actress Mackenzie Locklear, 23, told the world via Instagram that she had given birth on February 15th to a baby boy named Phoenix Finn Locklear. The actress went silent on all types of social media after the Sweetheart Dance we held on the 12th of this month until her huge announcement. We haven’t heard much about her birth but everyone is wondering who the father is. Mackenzie never said out in any interviews who the father of her son is but many people are assuming it’s Wallen Ward, 28, country singer. People are only assuming this as Mackenzie has been seen at many of Ward’s concerts in the past. She is either in the sound booth or she is backstage with everyone else. Wallen is currently married to Madeline King, 22, the youngest of the King Siblings.

We have reached out to all parties but we got nothing but got declined to speak from Locklear’s team, but we heard nothing back from King & Ward’s team just yet. But we will keep you all updated on the matter when we get the word!

ODESSA’S NIGHTMARE!

On the day of February 18th, 2021, we got reports of Daniel Kaylan, 29, had left his household with his daughter, Heather without notifying her mother and his fiancée, Odessa Fitzpatrick, 27. We were told that the police were called on the scene as Odessa had no idea where her daughter had gone to and assumed she had gone missing. It wasn’t clear where Daniel had gone with Heather but one thing that was clear is the fact that Odessa was not having any of it when Daniel revealed that he was the one who took Heather and left.

The couple just welcomed their third child, a son, into the world on the 14th of this month. Who they have not released the name yet. They also share another son, Wyatt, who is the oldest of the Kaylan Clan.

Rumors had spread that Odessa had indeed got the police involved once she could not find Heather anywhere and Daniel had to come home to talk them himself to explain what had really gone down. We know for sure, this is something he will never do again and might spend the rest of the year in the dog house for this one!

LOVE TRIANGLE IS STILL ON THE RISE!

Is 5 Seconds Of Summer’s guitarist still in love with a former groupie? The answer is unclear to many but also very clear to those around them! Spencer Stone, 25, used to sleep around constantly with Lanie Sinclair, 22, back when the band was touring for their album Sounds Good Feels Good. They currently share two children together, Lyric, 4, and Mercury, 2 months. Everything was going well between the two as co-parents before Spencer moved in with his girlfriend, Francesca “Frankie” Hart, 25. The house was already sold but Lanie ended up staying the night with Spencer the weekend before the big move and rumors have it that they have done more than just kiss that night. Sources had said that Sinclair left early in the morning with their daughter and her daughter, Lucina, 9 months, who she shares with her current boyfriend, Theodore “Theo” Dean, 26. Lanie was currently pregnant when she stayed the night.

Rumors only fueled even more as Lanie went off with Theo to Paris for nearly a month after giving birth to her son with Spencer. Theo was fresh out of an engagement with Nicole Hampton, 24, and Lanie was dealing with Spencer’s flip-flopping feelings for her. Sources had said in Aspen that Stone had made Sinclair cry more than once. Reports claim to overhear a fight between Spencer and Frankie as he admitted kissing Lanie. Witnesses say that Hart claimed to feel like she had been cheated on since Spencer agreed to father another baby with Lanie without talking to her about it first. This caused a huge rift between Hart and Stone in Las Vegas where Frankie walked out on him during blackout dinner.

During the Sweetheart Dance, many eyewitnesses had said that the whole night Spencer couldn’t tear his eyes away from his ex-groupie while she danced with her former turned current boyfriend Theo. What will Frankie think about all of this? What does Theo think about all of this as well?

SCOTTIE’S FREE CONCERT!

The Model/Youtuber Scottie Blake, 27, made headlining news when she went live on Instagram the other night and totally forgotten about it! It went from attempting to make pasta for dinner into a full-on action concert for thousands of people unknowing to her. Many of her fans were delighted to see Scottie enjoying herself as she danced around her kitchen and sang her heart out to her favorite songs. They blasted through her speakers and we do not blame her for forgetting about being live! When you have great music taste like Scottie, it’s common to forget what you were doing and just want to have some fun.

One fan wrote on Twitter, “LOOK AT HOW CUTE SCOTTIE IS!” With many heart emojis and a screenshot from the live.

Although trolls were making fun of the model, many of Scottie’s fans were quick to defend her and one started out. “As if you don’t do this when you’re alone lmao bye”

One thing is for sure, Scottie Blake, we need that album, and secondly, keep on dancing and never stop!

NICOLE HAMPTON IS TURNING TO A WRITER!

The rumors might be true! They might be false! But we do hope it’s true! Nicole Hampton, 24, had said it herself that she planned on writing a book called - “boy mom shit - you’ll be grey before thirty.” She then goes on to explain why she decided to write a book on parenting. It was because of her oldest son, Zeus, 6, who she shares with Derek King, 27. He was attempting to talk to his youngest brother, Asher, 4, who she shares with Brody Roberts, 30, to jump off his bed onto his skateboard so that he could ‘surf’ down the stairs. Luckily, Mama Hampton was quick to put that idea out of their heads and put their safety into their minds. Who knows what could have happened if she didn’t catch them in time!

As we are all parents in Hidden Hills, it would be so nice to hear what other parents have to go through. All children are wild, fun, and beautiful. They may drive us all up the wall but we do love them with all of our hearts! So, Nicole, we would love and buy your book! Give us a call when it’s about to be released! Don’t be shy now!

BRODY IS MOVING ON?!

Yes, you heard it here first! Brody Roberts says that he is ready to move on with his life and find that special someone! Our close sources say that he has come to terms with his ex-girlfriend, Nicole Hampton, 24 is moving on with her life and he is ready to do the same. As we stated in a previous story, the couple shares a son together, Asher, 5. The producer and director have been keeping a low profile recently but want to change that and step out more. We have to say that we’re excited to see Brody out and about again!

People close to the director stated that he wanted to connect with someone and meet that special someone in an authentic way and is adamantly opposed to dating apps. We get it, we don’t want to be catfished in this household. We were told that he has been asking around for ideas of places to meet people and even may have asked a few people to join him on that adventure. We do not know who at this time but once we get more details, we will share them with you all!

#hidden hills weekly.#issue 2.#isabelle amor.#cameron nelson.#annika badie.#james hemmings.#mackenzie locklear.#wallen ward.#madeline king.#theo dean.#spencer stone.#lanie sinclair.#odessa fitzpatrick.#daniel kaylan.#scottie blake.#nicole hampton.#brody roberts.

5 notes · View notes

theastrophilearchitect · 4 years

Text

I started writing a book.

And I’m mad about it, because I just started this post, brought up a new tab and lost it because I didn’t save my draft.

Anyway. That’s a thing I did. Wow.

As of this moment, this post won’t be going up until April 19th, but I’m starting writing this at 10.30pm on Sunday, February 21st, 2021. I’ve done a lot in the last couple weeks, and I want to have some record of all I’ve accomplished without just letting most of it fade over the next two months.

I’ve always wanted to be an author. From when I was reading under my covers with a torch past bedtime, through the years I wanted to be an artist, through the years I wanted to be a lawyer. It’s always been there - no matter what primary career path I went down, I wanted to be an author. The last few years, I’ve been invested in becoming a biologist, and that dream really took a backseat.

In the start of this lockdown, my mental health went downhill, and some advice my therapist gave me was just to prioritise myself. It sounds simple enough, but, even in my free time, I’d been focusing on schoolwork - revising constantly for exams I’m still not sure are actually happening. (Boris Johnson is apparently making an announcement tomorrow about beginning to ease lockdown, but we’ll see) So, on Saturday, February 6th, I started an attempt to coalesce the ideas I had floating in my head into something tangible.

I’ve tried to write books countless times (not technically countless - I have all the documents on my laptop, so I could if I wanted to), but mostly, I’ve never gotten further than a couple bare plot points and some characters, maybe some ideas for subplots, before I’ve stagnated and given up.

Three times, I’ve finished a skeletal outline. Twice, I’ve started to go back over those outlines only to realise they made no sense or just seemed week, and simply not cared enough to fix it. Until now, I guess.

February 6th, 7th, and fast-forward to my week off beginning the 15th, up until the 19th, I kept developing this concept I’d managed to form, but I was struggling to establish a coherent plot. I had up until and including a midpoint (which was later condensed into just a first act), but everything after that was just a void. I began searching for some skeletal structure I could apply to it, both to work on pacing and fill in the blanks. I tried several, and got a little further, but was about to give up hope.

Then I remembered a video by Katytastic I’d watched years ago about the 3-act, 9-block, 27-chapter structure she used, and couldn’t see the harm in giving it a go. And something clicked.

You can find the video here - the structure’s detailed and easy to follow, plus she even gives an example of using it to generate a plot.

I started binge-watching her writing vlogs in the background, and even started using her same writing program, Scrivener, which just made every a thousand times easier by taking away the need to juggle a billion Word documents. It’s fairly pricey, but I’m currently using the 30-day free trial - it’s 30 days of use, not of ownership, too: if you use it every day, it lasts 30 days, but if you use it once a week, it lasts 30 weeks.

Where Kat used the 27 parts the structure broke down into as chapters, I chose to refer to them as beats, and separate chapters later.

On Saturday the 20th, I finished defining my scenes and started writing an actual draft. I wrote two scenes, putting me at a collective word count (not including notes, synopses, etc.) of 2,580 words.

This morning, Sunday the 21st, I started over. I hated my opening. I’m not going to go through the mess of today’s process, but I currently have around 80 one-line-outline scenes, split into 3 acts. I wrote a draft of my prologue and detailed-outlined (which I’m mentally referring to as zero-outlining because it’s similar to how Katytastic does what she calls a zero draft, but is very much outlining, not a draft) two and a half other chapters. Scriver also tells me how many words I wrote in total, across notes, character profiles, location lists, a document I’ve named ‘Train of Thought’ for my ramblings as I go etc.

Today, I wrote a grand total of 4,141 words, which, rather counterintuitively, puts me at a draft total of 2,598. That makes sense. Anyway.

There are a lot of unknowns in the world right now, and I have no idea how much time I’ll have in the next six months to invest in this project, but I’d like, at bare minimum, to have one complete draft by the start of the next school year in September, which gives me just over 6 months. Which is probably too much time to actually motivate myself, but that’s not the point.

A manuscript needs to have a minimum word count of 50K words to be considered a novel, so, even though my ultimate goal for this project is around 80K words, 50K is going to be my goal for this draft.

I’m being optimistic about sticking with this.

Tuesday 23/02/2021 - Word Count: 3,099 I wrote nothing yesterday; planning to focus writing solely on days off rather than work days, but last night, watching through the incredibly long queue of Alexa Donne writing videos, I came to the conclusion writing every day, even just a little, would be the best way to ensure I keep working on this, so I set myself a goal of just 500 words a day.

Wednesday 24/02/2021 - Word Count: 5,350 After doing a little bit of maths as to how long this outlining and draft would take me if I were to only write 500 words a day, I decided to boost that goal to 1,000. I got started around 1pm today, online school draining me so much I couldn’t face another two hours. I worked on and off until 6pm, and around 4.45pm, I finished outlining Act One!

Thursday 25/02/2021 - Word Count: 7,022 I continued my scene outlining into Act Two, but I hit a brick wall around the midpoint. I have to write chronologically - some people jump around, but I have to write linearly, or it feels like I’m trying to make something in a void. It just doesn’t work. I didn’t know how to get from one scene to the next - there were so many things I needed to establish to get there, but I didn’t want to backtrack. I decided to re-jig the whole thing, but, after dinner, I realised I didn’t have to, and instead, decided to just start a draft, conscious of the things I need to establish as I go.

Friday 26/02/2021 - Word Count: 8,208 Starting draft one, I rewrote the prologue I’d already written, technically putting me to my second draft of it, because I’d been thinking about it for days and just wanted to revisit it, and it was so much better. Then I moved on to chapter one, but decided I wanted to re-jig my chapters. While outlining, I’d split the whole book into only about twenty chapters, but decided to go for shorter ones for more effective divisions of the story. I got most of the way through the first scene of chapter one, but basically ran out of both time and motivation, since I hadn’t heavily outlined that scene. in total, I wrote over 2000 words today, but because I only increased the prologue word count by about 100 words, it didn’t do that much to the total count.

Saturday 27/02/2021 - Word Count: 11,050 I got some chores done Saturday morning and focused on finishing my book so I could include it in my February wrap-up, but I still had time to get some writing done around mid-day. My goal was just to hit 10K this weekend, but I though I could do it in one day. I wrote about 1,000 words before feeling a little word-drained, but took a break for lunch, got back to it and wrote 2,400 words. Though that only added a little over 2,000 to the word count, it took me to 10K! I’m 20% of the way to being able to call it a novel! We’re in quintuple digits!

And then eight hours later, I wrote another thousand words and got to 11K.

Sunday 28/02/2021 - Word Count: 13,722 I spent most of my Sunday morning writing, though it took me more than two hours to write about 1500 words, though it only added about 1100 to my count. I decided to set myself an overall and weekly deadlines to hold myself accountable. Due to the fact I don’t yet have a clue how many words this will work out as, I decided I wanted to have either a complete first draft or 100K words (which I doubt I’ll reach, but it seems like a good way to make myself finish the draft before my deadline) by the end of April. Which works out to a little under 1500 words a day, or just under 11K a week, which is perfectly doable. Bearing in mind my current word count is including outlines, but I still believe in myself.

I wrote another 1600 words later, which took me to 14K, until I deleted the 300 word outline I wrote for one scene, but I worked out my words per day for the next two months with the assumption of a 10K word count as of March 1st and a target of either a complete draft or 100K words by the end of April, so I’m nearly 4,000 words ahead of schedule. Which gives me 6,606 words to write this week, instead of 10,328. (If you couldn’t tell, I like numbers. They just make sense to me.

Monday 01/03/2021 - Word Count: 15,005 I didn’t quite hit my daily goal, but I was completely leached of motivation today, I’m ahead of schedule anyway and I was only under by less than 200 words. It’s alright. But, hey, we hit 15K! Two days after hitting 10K!

Tuesday 02/03/2021 - Word Count: 21,119 This was an insane writing day. My end-of-day target was only 16,480, and that was still ahead of schedule - if I was sticking to the 100K by April 30th, I’d only actually need to be at 12,950 today. This was the best writing day I’ve ever had. I wrote before school and during breaks, which kept both my writing and working momentum up.

I didn’t read a page of my current read, but I wrote a total of 7,681 words and increased my wordcount by 6,114 words, or literally an additional 40.75%. I hit 20K three days after hitting 10K, and am 42.238% of the way to being able to say I wrote a novel, be it a shitty first draft that won’t be complete at 50K words.

I also finished chapter three, which I’ve been working on for three days and came out ~5,000 words, and wrote chapters four and five in their entirety.

Note to self: this is day 10 of vaguely outline-drafting this project.

Wednesday 03/03/2021 - Word Count: 23,364 I've only written 490 words today, as of writing this update, but I just wanted to make note of the fact I've done some calculations, and can reasonably finish my draft this month. I'm still not completely sure how long it'll work out to be, so I can't quite work out my daily words to finish on the 31st, but if I stick to my current 1,475 words a day, I'll hit 63,894 words by the end of the month, which is a little less than I imagine this draft will be, but if I stick to that as a minimum, my first draft won't have to go into April.

I'd like to post this later this week, but I already have a post for this Friday, so God only knows how long this will be by the time it goes up. So far, I've written 1,900 words today, and I don't think I'm out of fuel yet, but I'm stopping because I need to read today, and I'd rather not burn out. I'm over my goal, anyway.

Oh, also, I'm nearly at 25K, which is halfway to a novel, but I haven't broken into Act Two yet, which means this book will be 75K minimum. I'm going to do some maths and work out how many words a day to hit 80K by March 31st. 2,030. That's doable. So I haven't read, but back to writing for like ten minutes.

I've now hit an additional 2,245 words for the day, though I wrote a total of 2,663

Thursday 04/03/2021 - Word Count: 25,415 I've decided to work out how many words I need to write each day to hit 80K by March 31st, and watch the fluctuations. (I like statistics). It should steadily go down throughout the month if I surpass it each day. Today's minimum word count is 2,023, already seven words less than yesterday's. How exciting.

The last scene of Act One was very heavy on world-building I haven't yet figured out, so I stuck what was meant to happen in brackets and just moved on, meaning I have now broken into Act Two!

I think, during the week, I'm going to focus on just meeting my minimum word count rather than exceeding it, just to save fuel for the weekends, when I can write so many more words.

And, we hit 25K! I'm halfway to a novel!

Friday 05/03/2021 - Word Count: 26,693 In complete honesty, I'm beginning to lose momentum. Maybe it's just today, but I don't really want to write and feel like I need a break, but I'm going to make myself write anyway. I'm going to make myself keep writing until this draft is done, however shitty it may end up. I really hate first drafts.

When you say 2,000 words is only 7-8 pages, it doesn't sound like that much to write per day but my god. Luckily, most of the stuff I've had to save to a Pinterest board called 'Writing Motivation' says if you write when you don't want to, it should pass instead of worsening. I wanted to hit 35K this weekend, but I'm not sure I'll have the momentum. I'll at least hit 31,270, though, which is my minimum goal for this week. I'm still over 700 words off my goal for today, but I'm taking a break because my head is foggy and there's still eight hours left in the day. Besides, 700 after dinner is easy. She says, realising she's probably jinxing it. Oh, well. 80K by March 31st would be difficult, even if I weren't going back to school soon, but that's a stretch goal. 100K by April 31st is my minimum, and I'm 9,000 ahead of where I need to be for that.

I think I’m stagnating because I’ve hit the ‘Fun and Games’ section, which I find really boring. I’m going to try to keep going with it, but I may just skip it and come back later.

Saturday 06/03/2021 - Word Count: 28,150 So, I did not get the extra 700 words in. Before dinner, some stuff I had to deal with came up, and by the time it was done, I just wanted to go to bed, so I did. Today, I'm going to try to make up for it, which I think is reasonable because it is now the weekend. I'm still kinda exhausted this morning, but I'm going to do my best, and my wrist hurts, but I'm not sure why. You'd think it would be from all the typing, but only one wrist hurts - you know what? Never mind. They do both hurt. I'm just not sure why, but it doesn't hurt typing this, so that doesn't make any sense. Anyway, to hit my word count for the day, I need to write 2,555 words, which doesn't sound like too much, but it kinda is because I'm primarily writing Act Two at the minute, and for every thousand words I write, I lose like 400 from my outline. You'd think I'd just not include my scene outlines in the word count, but it's too late for that now.

I'm thinking this over, and I really don't think trying to write 80K by the end of the month is going to be good for either my motivation, mental health, or ability to function back at school, so I'm going to stick to 100K or a finished draft by April 30th, and re-work out my goals from there, based on yesterday's word count, so I'm not making myself do catch-up today.

So, to hit 100K by April 30th, I only need to write 1,309 words each day (which will decrease over time because if that's my minimum now, I'll probably surpass it, decreasing the amount of words left etc.). That's so much less pressure.

God, I really don't want to write today. I just want to watch YouTube and Netflix and read.

Okay, so here's the thing. I've been working on this story straight for three weeks and I'm kinda exhausted of it. I'm not done with it, not at all, and I want to keep working on it because it exists, which makes it workable.

I watched a writing vlog by ShaelinWrites yesterday, and she said she writes different projects at once, alternating in week- or multi-week-long blocks. I think I might try that.

My plan with this post and the following updates was to keep updating it until the day it goes up, the day after which is when I begin drafting the next, but, since I may be switching projects for a while and this is really about the project I've decided to dub 'Bay Tree' (which is just, I guess, a pseudonym for here because while I have no idea what it would eventually be called, I know that's nothing like the title I'd want to give it) so I'd want to start a new post for a new project.

I'm now doing a little outlining instead of actually continuing writing, but I think this will help me, though I'm still not certain about whether or not I'm going to directly continue with this specific project for the minute. Instead of setting daily goals based on a target, I'm also just going to say 1,000 words a day, and see where that takes me.

I've just been outlining into Act Three, and I've met a major plot stumble, but I'm going to work that out and explain what I'm doing in my next writing update.

So, go drink some water, eat if you haven't eaten in the last few hours, stand in front of the mirror and tell yourself how wonderful you are and how much happiness you deserve, and, if you want to write a book, stop thinking about it, and go write.

#blog #blogging #blogger #blogpost #blog post #writing #books #book #reading #read #write #writer #author #draft #first draft #story #writing blog #writerblr #bookblr #novel #debut

3 notes · View notes

harryandmolly · 5 years

Text

Complicit // 1

summary: Shawn is under more pressure than he’s ever known. He craves release and comfort, the simplicity of sex. He gets more than he bargained for.

warnings: language, NSFW, me writing Niall’s accent

WC: 6.7k

-----------

“So… are we talking like, full on whips and chains and nipple clamps and shit?”

Shawn’s eyebrows are lost somewhere in his hairline, but at least it’s more life in his eyes than Niall’s seen in a while. Niall tries not to go pink at Shawn’s assumption, but he’s still not that good at talking about all this.

“No, no, mate. I mean, some of ‘em do that. I think, I mean, based on what you pay for it, they’ll do whatever you want.”

Both guys go quiet and squirm a little uncomfortably. They’re sitting in Shawn’s living room in his $3 million bachelor pad, furnished very tastefully and expensively, talking about hiring sex workers. It doesn’t look or feel great.

Niall sighs. “It’s not like Pretty Woman. These girls don’t even charge by the hour. They’re escorts, not hookers. They’re educated and articulate and the kind o’ woman you could have on your arm at any industry schmoozing event and no one would bat an eye. That’s the whole point.”

Shawn nods thoughtfully. He’s heard of agencies like this, obviously. He’s been around the industry long enough to know guys like him, and producers and managers and agents and other high-powered men, aren’t driving down Hollywood Boulevard looking for $200 an hour streetwalkers. But that doesn’t mean Shawn’s ever remotely considered utilizing a service like this.

“But… they’re dominatrixes?”

Niall tips his head back and forth, squinting as he looks for the words. “They’re dommes. ‘S a bit different. La Splendeur is the name o’ the agency. They hire women that boss you around a bit, in some form or an udder. I mean, have you ever tried that?”

Shawn flushes a little and scrolls through his relatively short sexual history. “... sort of? Like, she’s on top?”

Niall sighs and closes his eyes with a wise smile. He has much to learn.

“‘S just a suggestion. La Splendeur is the best of the best. Super discreet. Beautiful. Interesting girls. And it’s better stress relief than I’ve found anywhere else.”

“Including golf?” Shawn quips.

Niall barks a laugh. “Including golf. I’ll leave you the number and you can decide. I really like Karina, but it might be weird knowin’ we’ve both had our hands in that cookie jar. Up to you, mate. Totally up to you.”

Shawn has never been so anxious about a phone call in his life. He goes through his phone and turns off location services first, suddenly paranoid that they could somehow track his device and be able to broadcast this for the whole internet. Plus, he’s busy with pre-festival run promo, so he’s forced to make the call in the middle of the day.

He goes to great lengths not to be heard, very publicly excusing himself to the bathroom and then running off to a quiet conference room down a hallway that was deserted. He shuts himself inside, stands in the corner by the window and dials, hands shaking.

The voice on the phone is smooth and easy, probably used to dealing with nervous wrecks like him all the time. She explains how it works -- the rates, the wire transfer, the security, the booking. Selecting his date comes down to an emailed photo portfolio, password encrypted and accompanied by a very stern warning not to share it with anyone, even potential referrals. Shawn supposes that makes sense -- they don’t want these photos getting passed around without the safety net of knowing that in return, the agency has the client’s private email address.

He’s twitchy all day before he can get home to his laptop, kick off his Saint Laurent chelsea boots, and pick his date.

‘Date’ is how he’s trying to think about it. Niall encouraged that, too. Shawn texted to let him know that he’d made the call (less than 24 hours after Niall had made the suggestion). Niall was over the moon, reminding him that it’s supposed to be fun and he shouldn’t feel weird about calling. It’s like a guaranteed great first date, just… a really expensive one.

Shawn opens the email to a PDF of professional and truly stunning photos. Each girl has a short bio and a series of shots that really don’t feel at all like advertisement for sex. He takes note of Karina, Niall’s favorite, a short and curvy Filipino girl who apparently excels at tennis, loves to sail and has an MBA. Her photos are gorgeous -- her on a beach wearing a tasteful cover-up and a flower in her hair with just enough cleavage to catch a guy’s attention, standing beside a tall window in a snug dress and heels, and grinning on a tennis court, a cute candid.

In total, there are about 25 women on La Splendeur’s roster of sorts, more than Shawn expected. They’re incredibly diverse in terms of race, shape and size, all accomplished and learned and surprisingly non-threatening, given the niche service they provide. Only one had him scrolling back up to look at her again and again.

Penny, 26, has a master’s degree in criminal psychology, is fluent in four languages, is an excellent skier and has a German shepherd named Pamela. Her photos show her lying barefoot in a cocktail dress on a lounge chair with a look in her eyes that says she already knows everything about you, looking over her shoulder to laugh at the camera during golden hour from above the Hollywood sign, and his personal favorite, a black and white close up headshot. She doesn’t look to be wearing a stitch of makeup. Her hair is wet and slung over and around her face like it’s in the wind. Her lips are parted, her eyes are dark, and Shawn has to meet her immediately.

Penny. Penny. Penny.

God, he can’t fucking wait. He’s so keyed up he actually grins at the change he gets from a barista at Commissary because she gives him back two cents.

His instructions are clear and concise. He is to get himself to the Chateau Marmont and head into the bar, where he will give his name. Someone will escort him up to his suite for the evening, where he will be greeted by security, who will confirm the receipt of the wire transfer and wait until his date arrives. Check out time is 11:30am the next morning.

The big guy who lets him into the room seems friendly enough, but Shawn is sure his every move is being watched by a hawk. Even with rich and famous clientele, agencies can’t afford to take risks with their employees. At least he doesn’t feel like a nervous kid being scrutinized by his prom date’s dad while he waits. In fact, the guy, Gus, he says, sees him shaking like a leaf and murmurs that the mini bar is fully stocked. He excuses himself to wait outside.

Shawn pours himself a glass of bourbon on the rocks and looks around. He’s never been in a room at the Chateau. It’s a bit odd -- almost too comfortable to be a hotel. There’s a full kitchen and vintage furniture that looks like it belongs in a warm, comfortable apartment rather than the stoic uniformity of a hotel.

He’s rattling ice in his glass anxiously and staring out at the lights of West Hollywood when the door opens. He’s just distracted enough not to stand immediately when she walks in, and he realizes a little late that it’s rude, so he scrambles to be upright and almost drops his fucking crystal glass.

She’s smiling warmly at him like they’re old family friends. It’s not clinical or superficial or forced. It’s a real smile, and it’s so beautiful. She’s so beautiful.

I mean, wow.

She’s medium height, 5’7” probably, but taller in her spiky heels. Her hair is lighter than he saw in the pictures, probably from the summer sun. Her olive skin is gorgeously bronzed. Her brown eyes are darker than his, like espresso. Her eyes are wide set and framed by well tamed thick brows. Her lips are full and European. Italian, he’d guess.

So why is her name Penny?

Shawn almost rolls his eyes at himself. He doesn’t know why that’s sticking in his head now, of all moments. Gus gives her a nod and shuts the door. As she approaches, graceful and quiet even in her heels, Shawn blinks, staring at the door.

“Is… uh, does he stand outside the whole time?”

Penny smiles again and cocks her head, shaking it. “No, no. He’s my driver, not my guard dog.”

Shawn gives a weak chuckle and it sounds pathetic to his own ears. At the mention of dogs, his mind springs to Pamela the German shepherd. He wonders if she’s real or a line in a bio to make Penny sound quirky and likeable. He watches her lift her sheath of thick hair over one shoulder and reach for the glass of bourbon in his hand to take a sip. He decides he doesn’t care.

“Please, have a seat,” she suggests, gesturing to the sofa. He blinks too much and plunks himself down, clearing his throat.

She lowers herself beside him, facing him with her arm stretched along the back of the couch toward him. She folds her ankles and for a second Shawn thinks about the scene in The Princess Diaries when Mia falls out of her chair trying to pull the same move. Penny emulates Queen Clarisse instead. Shawn tenses against his own will. He can feel himself shutting down.

Penny takes another sip of his drink and eyes him carefully from over the glass. She’s been doing this long enough to know when a guy is locking up in front of her eyes.

It’s like Operation. You have to move slow and careful, or you get zapped. He could be the kind of guy that would respond well to her dropping her hand to his knee while they talk, or it could send him springing across the room. Penny follows her instincts and instead flicks her heels until her multi-thousand dollar shoes clunk onto the hardwood below her. She curls up her feet beside her and tilts her head to rest against her fist.

“How long are you in LA for?”

It’s one of her favorite safe questions. It offers potential to discuss work if he wants to go there, but is vague enough to offer him an out if he wants it.

“Uh, for another couple weeks. I’ve got some meetings and events and stuff and then I think I’m bouncing around. New York, maybe. I don’t know my schedule as well as I probably should.”

Well, at least he’s talking. She hands him back his glass with a wink.

“Schedule schmedule.”

Shawn smiles. It’s tentative still, but sweet. She made the right move by taking off a layer of the untouchable glamour.

It’s her move again. She considers the board, eyes her options, keeps her fingers delicate on the tweezers.

“I listened to your music this week.”

It’s a risky shot, like going for the funny bone. She already knows, can tell by the way he carries himself, that he’s here to work something out of his system. This appointment isn’t about satisfying a rakish curiosity or an ego thing, or worse, a sex addiction. He needs something from her -- comfort, release. If it’s his music that’s driving him to need her, mentioning it off the bat like this could do some damage to the trust she’s working to build. She holds her breath.

He lights up.

“Oh, cool. All of it?”

She wiggles her naturally shaped eyebrows. “Right down to “Something Big.””

Shawn winces playfully and laughs. It sounds real this time. “Yikes.”

“No, it was cute,” she insists, her fingers stretching out along the back of the couch to nudge at his very solid arm. He goes a little pink.

“Do you have a favorite?”

Shawn doesn’t mean to put her on the spot. For all he knows, she just googled his albums to have something to say. But he asks anyway, despite himself, because he’d like to know which, if any, of his songs caught the attention of a woman like her.

“I like “Particular Taste.” It came on in my car the other day while I was on Mulholland. It’s a damn good car song.”

Shawn feels himself get a little smug. “Thanks. I like that one, too.”

They’re watching each other quietly, feeling the tension build. Penny wets her lips and leans in, getting ready to speak again.

“So how long have you been doing this?” Shawn blurts. His eyes go a little comically wide before he course corrects and inspects his nearly empty glass.

Penny is startled, but tucks some hair behind her ear and regroups. “Almost five years.”

“Wow. That’s… wow.”

Penny shares a wise sort of smile that reminds Shawn uncomfortably of Emily. “It’s nice work if you can get it.”

“Right,” Shawn croaks, glancing away.

Penny feels the gentle sting of having nicked the board just a bit with her tweezers. She reaches out the arm against the couch and lets her fingertips skim his lush curls. His chest shudders and his eyes dart toward the window. He raises his shaky hand with the empty glass to his lips for something to do.

Penny drops her other hand to his knee, giving it a gentle squeeze.

“Hey,” she murmurs, all honey, “Would you like me to refill that?”

Shawn looks down at his drink and shakes his head. “N-no, that’s ok.”

Penny swipes her tongue over the front of her teeth and decides to toss her playbook aside the way she does on rare occasions.

She scoots in, cups his cheek in her hand and focuses his eyes on hers. His jaw twitches under her fingers.

“What do you want, Shawn?”

He blinks quickly, startled that she said something, confronted him with the actual situation they’re dealing with.

“I’m… I don’t know. Can… can we just talk for a while?”

She eases back a little, drops her hands in her lap. “Of course. About anything in particular?”

Shawn bites the inside of his cheek, then says, “How did you get into… escorting?”

He emphasizes the last word as a question, unsure if he’s using the right terminology. She nods reassuringly.

“Well, around the time I was graduating from college, I met a girl at a party who recruited me, for lack of a better term. She told me about the money, the tips, the security, the gifts. Sounded pretty good to a 20-year-old without a post-grad plan.”

Shawn’s eyebrows lift. “You graduated college at 20?”

She shrugs. “I skipped the 4th grade and AP tested out of most of my freshman year.”

He’s impressed. And intimidated. He fights the instinct to curl him up into himself. He doesn’t want to feel small beside her. He wants to feel impressive, too.

“That’s pretty cool. Do you do this full time?”

Penny laughs. It’s light and airy and maybe just a little… restrained somehow.

“Yes. You’re very curious about my line of work.”

“I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be-- I mean, I just… Sorry--”

She stops him from stumbling all over himself by planting a hand around his wrist.

“It’s ok. I’m just not used to being asked. Most people… they don’t want to be reminded that they’re paying for it.”

As soon as she says it, she hears the mistake in her words. Fucking amateur bullshit, she scolds herself, watching him cave in. His eyes drop to his feet and his chest rises and falls a little harder.

“Hey,” she prompts gently, keeping her hands off this time for fear of sending him flying, “Don’t shut down on me.”

He looks back at her blankly. “Don’t…?”

She presses her tongue out to smooth along her lower lip. “I’m here to help make you feel good, Shawn. I’m excellent at knowing how best to do that, but I think I’m gonna need an assist from you this time. So just… don’t think, don’t act, don’t react, just feel it. And tell me what you want.”

“I want to cuddle.”

He says it so suddenly he surprises himself. Without missing a beat, Penny nods, formulating a new gameplan in her head. She bites her lip and reaches for his twitchy hand in his lap.

“Ok. I can do that. I just want to get comfy first, ok?”

Before he can wonder out loud what she’s going to change into and how she got clothes in here without him seeing, she leans in and presses her lips to his delicately. His frazzled brain lights up like the 4th of July, sending thoughts flying like out of control fireworks. He kisses back after a second or two, firm but chaste. He murmurs subtly into her mouth.

Small victories.

When Penny walks out of the bathroom five minutes later, her makeup is wiped clean, leaving her face a little shiny and flushed. She’s in touchably soft clingy leggings and a Lululemon hoodie, looking like an athleisure ad. She’s still barefoot, her white painted toes winking up at him before she drops onto the bed and waves him over. He makes to climb up next to her and she hisses, gesturing to him with a wave of her hand.

“I took off my armor, Mendes, you need to do the same.”

Shawn swallows and smiles shyly. He kicks off his shoes, balls up his socks and drops his jeans into a heap by the bed. In his taut navy t-shirt and custom printed Calvin Klein boxer briefs, he settles in beside her, mirroring her position on his side.

“Ok, cards on the table, I think. Bad breakup? Tour anxiety? Voice struggles?”

Shawn’s chest rises and falls heavily with a deep, unrestrained sigh. There’s no reason to hide from her. She doesn’t know him. She doesn’t have expectations. She’s a safe space.

He stares down at the curve of her hip as he speaks. He tells the story from what he thinks is the beginning -- Emily’s first mention of the idea of the PR relationship with Bex. He explains the strategy and the trajectory, that they expect to be in and out of the public eye throughout the summer festival run and will not-so-quietly break up just around the time his album releases in the fall and Bex heads out on tour for her brand new EP.

Penny nods along while he speaks, pursing her lips and shifting slightly closer to him. She’s not working consciously, not timing the seconds between movements like she sometimes does, like she did even just on the couch a few minutes ago. But as he talks, she feels the tension start to drip off him and release to the point where she has no hesitation in slipping her fingers into the tight, short curls at the back of his neck while she runs her toes up and down the back of his calf.

He seems comforted by being able to touch her, too. He rests a hand in the dip of her waist and it wanders slightly up her ribcage and upper arm, twisting his long pale fingers in her hair. He watches it curl and bend for him. He can’t remember the last time he played with a woman’s hair like this.

When his cursory explanation ends, he closes his eyes and rests his head on his folded arm. Penny’s fingers tug gently at the nape of his neck for his attention.

“Sounds like a lot.”

Shawn’s chest stutters. His eyes well. He turns his face into the pillow, embarrassed by the hair trigger of his emotional reaction.

“S-sorry, I just… fuck. I don’t know why I’m--”

He cuts himself off with a final unintended whimper of defeat, a nice bookend on a chunk of shame he can hang onto and revisit in his head when he needs it the least.

His eyes are snapped shut. The tears on his lashes start to wick into the expensive fabric of the pillowcase beneath his head. He’s waiting for her -- he doesn’t know what for. He’s waiting for her to leave him there to cry it out, get back in her expensive shoes and clack away from his misery. He’s waiting for her to shove a hand down his boxers and give him what she thinks he paid for. He’s waiting for her to hate him like he hates himself right now.

Slowly, timidly, he opens his eyes. She’s there, blinking at him, face as placid and reassuring as he’s seen since she got here. She doesn’t look ready to run. She doesn’t look at him like the pitiful creature he’s acting like. She slides her long fingers up further to cradle the back of his head and make his wet eyes flutter.

“Would you like to hear what I think?”

Shawn pauses, then nods.

Penny wets her lips. “I think maybe you’re not very good at compartmentalizing yet.”

Shawn frowns slightly and starts turning circles on her lower back with the pad of his thumb, nodding at her to continue.

“This relationship stunt doesn’t define you as a man or as an artist. It’s publicity, the same way appearing on GMA is publicity. It’s not as honest, maybe. I can see that’s part of what bothers you. I can understand that. But this is a means to an end. You’re not using Bex; she’s aware of what she’s involved in. She benefits, too.

“So instead of letting this become something that bothers you in quiet moments, makes you question what this makes you look like or even who this means you’re becoming, you need to accept that this is a part of your job and it’s not who you are.”

Shawn blinks dumbly. He’s been trying to convince himself of this for a while, but he’s never come close to sounding as soothing and confident as she does right now. This woman listened to him yammer for seven minutes about his stupid pop star problems without rolling her eyes or waving off his concerns.

Thank god he’s paying her to be here or he swears he’d already be half in love with her.

Shawn closes his eyes and nuzzles his cheek against the pillow. “Can I kiss you?”

“Yes you may.”

He opens his eyes and watches her, settled by the distinct sensation that she’s allowing him to proceed as he’s comfortable. At the same time, he’s deliciously unnerved by something lurking behind her eyes, like she’s deciding how long to give him before she takes over. He hopes it won’t be long.

Shawn cups a large palm around her cheek, marveling at the silkiness of her hair in his fingers as he leans in, brushing his lips over hers. He hears himself murmur gently at the slick warmth of her lip balm. It tastes like rose water and coconut.

He eases back after a moment, his head spinning.

“Jesus Christ, that’s incredible.”

Her long, dark lashes lift and lower lazily, casting shadows on her cheeks in the lamplight. “Kissing me?”

He shakes his head, marveling with a gentle groan, “Yes. Why does kissing you feel like the best thing that’s happened to me in months?”

“It’s simple. It’s stable. It’s honest.”

She says it like she didn’t have to think about it. She’s unwavering and direct and he knows she’s probably really good at all this because of who she is and what she does but he doesn’t think he cares right now if it’s not genuine. It feels too fucking good.

He smirks. “Do you have an answer for everything?”

Her full lips spread in a lazy grin. “Yes.”

“Thank god,” Shawn mutters just before pressing his lips back to hers.

Shawn has no idea what to expect. It’s been what’s had him on a knife’s edge since he booked this appointment. His curiosity has been his friend while zoning out in meetings, standing in security lines at airports, stripped down to his boxers in front of a team of people while trying on show clothes. An experience like this to look forward to was an intense enough distraction from his anxiety.

And now, lying in a bed next to her with her perfect tongue tangled with his and her soft hands roaming his body hungrily, but with purpose, his mind races -- what will this be like? What will this feel like? Is it really as good as Niall says?

She pulls back suddenly, her lips leaving his with a wet smack. His hips rut against her stomach in response.

“Time for you to stop thinking,” she rasps. Shawn squirms at the fucked-out quality of her voice. Is it at all possible that he’s got her as worked up as she has him? He’s already throbbing for her in his briefs, which he knows she can feel against her thigh.

He brushes his nose against hers a little desperately, silently begging for more. Even with his eyes closed, he can tell she’s smiling when she cups his cheek and rolls their bodies so she’s lying slotted up against him in every way that makes him crazy.

“You like kissing, huh?” she breathes. It’s not teasing, not really. It’s curious and gentle. He can feel the way she takes note of the things that have him panting a little harder, pressing into her more insistently. It makes him feel important and a little bashful. He nods anyway, lifting the corner of his mouth.

“You’re a good kisser, Shawn,” she sighs into his mouth, dropping her weight into her hips and sliding her hands up his chest to rest over his pecs.

If her tongue wasn’t teasing his lower lip, he’d be grinning like an asshole.

His hands are growing frantic. They can’t decide where they like better -- her supernaturally soft hair, coursing up and down her spine, or resting on the toned swell of her ass. So they wander, getting grabbier as they go, until she pulls away again with a long lick of her wet lips.

“What are you going to do to me?”

He hears himself ask it over the rushing of blood in his ears. He can tell by the way she smiles down at him that he looks horrified at his own question. She pushes some curls off his forehead and looks him over, slowly, carefully, admiringly. Shawn is on fire beneath her, but she doesn’t seem to mind.

As if in slow motion, she tucks a hand under his neck. The motion fixes his manic, desperate eyes on hers. His breathing slows. His heart drops into his gut. His jaw tightens.

“Anything I want.”

Her voice is hot and sharp. Shawn’s face screws up like his body is physically overwhelmed by the idea of all the pleasure she can offer him. His eyes snap shut and the groan he releases is inhumanly loud.

When he can force himself to look back up at her, Penny has straddled his hips and works on lifting her hoodie up and over a black bra that he’s sure only a woman like Penny could wear… like that.

Her breasts are full and soft, as evenly tanned as the rest of her, from what he can see, which is not enough. He gets a flash of a vision of her lying on the chaise on the balcony outside their Chateau suite without a stitch on her, sipping a mimosa and smiling when she catches him admiring her. He grunts and reaches for her, needing to take and touch and taste.

His hands are pinned beside his head before he gets far. He gasps. His eyes blur with her quick movement until they can refocus and realize she’s holding him down, her breasts a breath away from his mouth.

“Fuck,” he grunts.

“Listen to me.”

It’s clear and stable and calm like a beacon in a storm. Shawn juts his chin up defiantly, licking his lips.

“You don’t touch me until I tell you to. If you do, you don’t touch me at all, not for the rest of the night. Do you understand?”

Shawn’s fingers curl into fists beside his head. His body aches, straining for the control she’s sapping from him. He’s not used to willingly giving it up, not anywhere, not for anyone.

“Take a deep breath,” she advises, feeling him struggle with the release of it, of the reins he’s held for so long his hands are fucking raw. His whole body feels raw looking up at her.

He does as he’s told. Her eyes are nearly black in the low light. He feels his shoulders soften and the squeezing of his heart start to slow, just a bit.

“You’re gonna have to walk me through this,” he grunts, shaking his head, “I-- I’m… for so…”

“I know,” she soothes, not to placate him, not to baby him. She wants him to know she understands. He feels it in the way she looks at him, the way she massages her fingers around his wrists.

He’s ok. He’s safe. He’s safe with her. It hits him all at once like a brick over the head. He swallows.

“I’m here to take care of you. I want to make you feel as good as I possibly can.”

He nods again.

She moves slowly, gracefully, like a lithe and dangerous predator. She pushes her leggings down her hips, sliding them off her feet until they’re forgotten in a pool at the end of the bed. His shirt and boxers join them, leaving his cock aching and leaking from the tip on his lower belly. He lies beside her, as instructed, with his arms over his head, grasping a pillow in his needy fingers.

She just… touches him.

He thought at first she was just going for a slow tease, would wrap her warm fingers around his cock after thirty seconds or so to get him somewhere, but that doesn’t seem to be the plan. He’s flat beside her, legs slightly spread, tensing and relaxing with each brush of her fingertips.

Before long, he realizes what she’s doing and it stuns him into holding his breath for so long that the gasp he releases when he remembers he needs oxygen makes her jump a little.

She’s studying him. She wants to know every inch of his body, wants to see how every subtle touch affects him. She is reading him like an instruction manual. Her eyes flicker, narrowing and darting and taking it all in. She can see every goosebump, every subtle lift of his hips, every intake of breath, every clench of muscle and little smile when she finds somewhere ticklish. By the time her scan seems complete, he’s panting, shaking, vibrating with need, and he knows she knows his body better than he does now.

And she gets to decide what to do with it.

From beside him, keeping her eyes on his, Penny reaches back and unclasps her architecturally stunning bra, draws the straps down her arms, and drops it off the side of the bed, revealing what Shawn had suspected to be the most perfect pair of breasts of all time. He was right.

“God, you’re gorgeous,” he hisses, pressing his head back into the pillow to keep from lunging at her stiff brown nipples. He’s rewarded for his compliment with a sweeping hand down his stomach, her fingertips just skimming the line of pubic hair that reaches down from his navel. His hips roll up in response.

Penny turns. Shawn watches her hair swing low against her back like a pendulum, entranced before he realizes she’s standing and bending over to shed her black lace cheeky panties. He remains still, his head turned toward her as she bares herself, until she turns back and faces him and he chokes on air.

He’s seen beautiful women naked. Plenty of them. Really, he has. He knows somewhere in his addled mind that it’s the performance of it that has him so fucking high strung that he almost coughs up a lung when he sees Penny without clothes, that he really, legitimately feels like he’s going to have a heart attack just from looking at her.

But he’s never been so goddamn hard in his life.

She takes a step toward the bed and lifts her leg to climb up next to him. He realizes with a jolt as he watches her legs separate that she’s soaking fucking wet. The insides of her thighs are slick. Shawn presses his heels into the bed to ground himself.

You can’t fake that.

Without a word, she positions herself on top of him, her strong legs on either side of his hips, her hands sunken between pillows by his head. Their eyes are locked. Shawn’s cock shifts against his stomach impatiently. Penny lifts a corner of her soft wet mouth. Shawn chokes on a whimpering sound he’s never heard himself make before. She drops her hips and he hears himself gasp.

“Oh!” he cries, throwing his head back as his hips thrust up to meet her. He vaguely feels the warmth of her lips on his chest, but he’s busy trying to fight back his orgasm that, with just the pressure, warmth and wetness of her pussy resting against his length, is roaring up in his abdomen.

“J-jesus… fuck…” he hisses, rolling his head to the side, sure if he looks down at her pretty face he’ll be coming like a freight train before she even has the chance to really do anything.

“You’ve never felt anything like this before,” she tells him smoothly. It doesn’t smack of arrogance or condescension. It’s simple fact. They both know it.

He shakes his head no, panting breath into the pillowcase.

“You never knew it could be like this.”

Again, he’s agreeing.

“I want you to remember this, what this feels like with me in your lap, wet for you, showing you how this can feel with me. I want you to look at me. Don’t take your eyes off me, Shawn.”

Another purring whimper escapes his throat. Slowly, he peels his sweaty cheek from the pillow and blinks down at her. There’s something feral that’s taken the place of what he saw in her before -- the white painted toes, the cozy hoodie, the gentle giggles. This part he sees now is going to swallow him whole. He’s going to let it, with pleasure.

Penny rolls her hips from left to right, swinging back again easily, with the rhythm of a dancer. The sound their bodies make is absolutely obscene. He grits his teeth through a hiss, watching her eyes flutter.

“You feel… incredible,” she pants slightly, establishing a slow, aching pace that makes Shawn’s brows draw together and his knuckles whiten against the pillow.

“I don’t know how long I can--”

“Don’t worry about that. I’ll tell you when you can come.”

She says it easily, like he’s in no danger of losing his fucking mind and spurting all over her stomach in probably only a few seconds. He realizes with a shiver it’s because she knows, for certain, without a shadow of a doubt, that he won’t come until she tells him.

“You’re so nice and hard for me, fuck. Touching you got me so wet. Can you hear us?”

Shawn is quaking, clinging to sanity, as her slick folds hug his cock, grinding harder with each pass of her hips. He doesn’t trust himself to speak anymore. He has no idea what could come out of his mouth at this point. He just nods eagerly, begging his eyes to stay open so he can obey her.

“Can you feel the way the head of your cock is rubbing my clit?” she nearly squeaks, sounding genuinely as close to orgasm as he is. His eyes go wide. His stupid mouth opens.

“Are-- are you gonna come like this?”

Holding her quick rocking pace, Penny springs up, snapping at his lower lip like a snake. He freezes, whining, and very nearly loses control of his tensed arms.

“Fuck yeah, I am,” she moans, and it’s the only warning he gets before her whole body goes tight atop him and she gushes all over his cock and thighs.

“Holy fuck, holy fucking shit,” Shawn gasps, rolling his hips to cradle her as she stutters through it, mewling and humming against his chest. He watches her eyes squeeze shut and open again slowly, looking up at him like she forgot he was there.

In the stillness, the room is so quiet, it’s loud. Shawn feels every cell in his body screaming, begging.

Penny licks her lips and shifts, getting ready to bear down. “You can come now.”

His hips take off at a sprint with her permission. She keeps up easily, using her weight in her knees to drive herself back against his every stroke, egged on by the wet slap of their skin and the glazed look in his eyes.

“Penny, I’m coming,” he warns her, because he feels like he should and he doesn’t know quite why other than he thinks she craves her permission for everything now. She squeezes her swollen lower lip under her row of straight white teeth and watches curiously, doubling down on the stroking of her hips.

“Shit! Oh fuck!” Shawn screams, hips roiling and rioting beneath hers as he comes hard, spurting against her swollen folds and between their clenching stomachs. His vision goes white. He can’t hear himself if he keeps talking, or yelling, and he can’t hear her if she’s trying to soothe him through it. It’s several seconds before he crash lands to feel her peeling her body off his and sees her shifting back over his thighs.

He doesn’t have time, or the mental capacity, to speak before she reaches between her legs and swipes a hand through her wetness and his. Her palm is slick, glistening in the low light. She reaches for his tired cock and gives it a squeeze.

“I want one more.”

His eyes bulge. “What?”

“One more, Shawn. Come again for me. You’ve been waiting for this for a week, I know you have it in you. Now fuck my fist and come for me.”

Shawn’s jaw drops as she pulses her fingers again. Despite everything he thought he knew about his own body, he feels himself already starting to harden in her palm again. He groans loudly, pulls his shaky legs so his feet plant below him, and starts lifting his hips.

“Ohmygod. Oh… oh my god,” he pants, eyes wild as they fix on her in disbelief. How did she know? How does she have this much power over him already? How does he make sure she never gives it back?

“Yes,” she praises, looking ravenous as his hips pick up speed and he grows fully hard in the clench of her fist, “Fuck, you’re so fucking good for me.”

His head tips back. He mewls a noise of overwhelmed pleasure and fucks his hips up even harder.

“Jesus Christ, I’m gonna fucking come again!” he shouts, pupils blowing out as he comes up on his forearms and bucks his entire lower body, quaking as he hurtles toward a second orgasm.

Penny lurches forward, swallowing the scream she knows is building in his chest with a searing kiss. His abdomen clenches as he bursts for her again, drenching her fist and his belly. It’s shorter and rockier than the first orgasm, sending him falling back to the bed totally limp and sated in only a few seconds. Penny mercifully releases him from her fist, using her other hand to smooth through his hair.

She’s concerned for a minute that she broke him. He just keeps staring at her, blinking too slowly, not speaking. She presses little kisses over his face, partially to encourage him, and maybe a little bit to distract herself from trying to make him come again because holy shit, she loved that.

“Never done that before,” he mumbles finally, his eyes sliding shut, like he’s finally secure enough to close them and believe she’ll still be sitting there when he does.

She nods, though he can’t see her. On her own wiggly legs, she manages to stand and get a wet washcloth from the bathroom. When she returns to wipe him off, he’s blinking at her curiously.

“Can I touch you now?”

She grins. “Yes you may.”

Shawn smiles gently. His eyes slide shut. He lifts a heavy palm to her thigh, rubbing her soft bronzed skin in a tender gesture of thanks.

Penny tosses the cloth aside and folds up against him, manipulating his arm around her as she lies against his chest.

“Wanna see you again,” he whispers. She bobs her head.

“Anytime you want.”

He presses his face into her hair, inhaling expensive salon shampoo and exhaling at least three months’ worth of stress. He’s asleep in under ten minutes. She decides to let him rest and behaves herself enough not to wake him up for round two (or three, technically) for at least an hour.

----------

This is gonna be a wild one, guys. If you’re so inclined, the link to buy me a Ko-fi is in my bio!

Taglist: @smallerinfinities @the-claire-bitch-project @achinglyshawn @infiniteshawn @mendesoft @singanddreamanyway @alone-in-madness @abigfatmess @shawnitsmutual @awkwardfangirl2014 @september-lace @grittyisaho @sinplisticshawn @rollingxstone @yslsaint @randi-eve @fallmoreinlove @heyits-claire @itrocksmysocks @parkerspicedlatte @simpledomain @abeautiful-and-cloudy-day @thecurlsofgod @magcon7280 @bensbuttercup @tnhmblive @greedydevil

#shawn mendes #shawn mendes blurb #Shawn Mendes Imagine #shawn mendes fan fic #shawn mendes fic #shawn mendes fan fiction #shawn mendes fanfic #shawn mendes smut #shawn mendes series #shawn mendes one shot #shawn mendes drabble #shawn mendes fiction #shawn peter raul mendes #shawn mendes fanfiction

730 notes · View notes

let-it-raines · 5 years

Text

Catch Me If You Can (36/40)

298 days. That’s how long Killian Jones was away from a baseball field. It’s less than a year, only part of a season for him, but it might as well have lasted a decade as he alternated between physical therapy and spending an excessive amount of time sitting on his couch.

But then he came back and won the World Series.

It’s something no one saw coming, and it’s certainly not something anyone who knows about his arm would predict. Now it’s a new season with new possibilities, and anything could happen. On-field reporter Emma Swan will be there to cover it all even if she is not his biggest fan right now.

Asking her out live on-air will do that.

Rating: Mature

a/n: Whaaaat? Two chapters in two days? What kind of alternate universe are we living in?? 😉 This is totally to make up for the last few chapters taking forever even though they’re literally just sitting on my computer!

Thanks to @imagnifika for her awesome art, @resident-of-storybrooke for reading these words and so many other words of mine (it’s a lot), and to @wellhellotragic who prompted me with the idea that inspired this whole thing all the way back in June!

AO3: Beginning | Current

Tumblr: 1 | 2 | 3 | 4 | 5 | 6 | 7 | 8 | 9 | 10 | 11 | 12 | 13 | 14 |15 | 16 | 17 | 18 | 19 | 20 | 21 | 22 | 23 | 24 | 25 | 26 | 27 | 28 | 29 | 30 | 31 | 32 | 33 | 34 | 35| 36 |

-/-

Killian fucking hates Boston.

It’s a great city full of good food, and in another lifetime, he’d mostly likely enjoy living here. Right now, the air is crisp with the scent of fall, and trees are in the middle of losing their leaves, the ones remaining a myriad of oranges and reds that remind Killian of sitting in a park in Cincinnati with his mother raking up leaves and then jumping into the piles before cleaning them up for the city. He had to have been four or five then, but that’s one of the first memories that he has. Looking out the window of his hotel room to a park that looks almost identical reminds him of that.

He should be happy, more than happy really, but when you’re trying to get to the World Series next week and are currently tied 2-2 in the AL Championship Series against the Red Sox on the way to getting there, happiness isn’t exactly the most common feeling.

And they’re playing in Boston tonight, and despite the fact that they won last night, beating both the team and the deafening roar of the crowd, Killian is not entirely convinced that they’re going to win again tonight. They could still come back from it by winning the next two games at home, but he’d really rather win here and then win the sixth game at home when he’s pitching and not have to deal with the nastiness of going to a seventh and deciding game.

Who in the hell wants to play sports for a living? It’s too damn stressful.

Losing won’t kill him, not at all. The fact that he’s having the season he’s having, especially with all of the ups and downs and lay-offs, is incredible and a full-credit to his team. But he got the taste of being the last team standing last year, and he wants it back.

Some players never get their hands on the trophy, and Killian is greedy enough to want it twice both for himself, his teammates, and his family.

And Emma. He wants it for Emma.

So, Killian really hates Boston and the fact that they keep putting them in close situations like this. Close games are often the best ones, the ones that have everyone on the edge of their seat, but Killian would kill for an easy night.

“The city isn’t going to implode just because you’re staring out at it with evil in your eyes.”

“One can hope though.”

“That’s entirely sadistic.”

He huffs and turns from the window to look at where Emma is sitting in bed (they’ve stopped bothering to get different hotel rooms now) with her knees pulled up so that she can rest her laptop there. He woke up this morning to her typing away. Apparently, she didn’t finish her work last night, so she had to wake up early this morning to send in a report before the deadline. Walsh’s firing has ended up having Emma needing to write more on top of her regular work, and even though she says she doesn’t mind – “I like writing,” she keeps saying – he knows that it’s kind of a kick in the teeth for her to have to do some of Walsh’s work.

The man is never fully going to go away, obviously. He and Brennan are like a bug that won’t die no matter how much you squash it.

“Are you almost finished with your report, love?”

“Yep,” she says. “I’m finished with it and have moved onto doing my prep work for today’s game as well as a little bit of online shopping because there are these boots that I really want but can’t decide if I’m going to buy.”

“That’s the hardest decision you’ve ever made.”

“Says the man who spends hours trying to decide which identical blue button-down shirt he wants to buy to ‘update’ his wardrobe.”

Killian scoffs and walks forward to flop down on the bed next to her, shaking the mattress with his movement, until he’s flipping over on his back and spreading out so that he takes up most of the space. Emma always hates when he does that.

“My clothes may not be as varied as yours, my darling, but it does take effort to look as good as I do on a regular basis.”

He turns his head to the side to look at her, a smile on his face, and she simply rakes her eyes up and down his body, very obviously perusing him. “You are currently wearing a pair of sweatpants that have a hole in the ass and a hoodie that I’m pretty sure has a permanent stain from some kind of baking accident. Your fashion sense is amazing.”

“You are literally in a pair of pajama pants with Snoopy’s face on them.”

“You wear the same two uniforms all the time.”

“Sometimes we wear the black ones.”

Emma hums. “Those are my favorite. I’ll stop making fun of you for things if you can convince the owners to let you guys wear the all black uniforms more often.”

“You were particularly fond of those on Players’ Weekend.”

“I’m a fan of a man in all black.”

Killian shifts on the mattress, propping himself up on the pillows until he’s mostly resting against the headboard. He can see Emma’s computer screen now, half of it covered with statistics and the other covered with Nordstrom’s website and a pair of boots. If there’s one thing Emma will splurge on, it’s boots.

“Buy the boots, Swan. Live a little bit.”

Emma arches a brow. “Am I made of money?”

“No,” he sighs, leaning over to kiss her shoulder. “That would be very convenient if you were. I’d never work again.”

“If you’re living off of my salary, you’re screwed because I’m definitely going to buy these super expensive boots. I think they would look really cute with the black suede skirt.”

“Ah, yes, I know the one,” he says sarcastically.

“Shut up,” Emma laughs, half-heartedly reaching over to slap his shoulder. “You do! I wore it when we went to dinner last week, and your eyes practically fell out of your head.”

Killian tries to think of what Emma wore last week, his mind blanking on everything at the moment, but then he’s brought back to a memory of the two of them going to eat at Palma on Cornelia Street last week. She’d looked gorgeous that night, her legs going on for miles aided by the heels, and they’d been late for their reservation because the street one block over was Jones Street and Emma insisted that he take a picture underneath the sign for her to send to Liam and Elsa.

He had not been amused, but in his defense, he really wanted to eat.

“Hmm, I think I do recall that one now that I think about it. You should definitely get those boots to wear with that.”

“I didn’t need your permission, but thank you for the approval. Do we need to be getting ready to go have breakfast with everyone?”

“I’m pretty sure breakfast is over down in the lobby.”

“No,” Emma sighs, clicking a few buttons on her laptop until he sees that she did indeed buy the boots. “We’re meeting everyone for breakfast at the café at the end of the block at ten.”

Killian groans and throws his arm over his eyes like the dramatic ass that he is. “That means I have to get dressed.”

“Well, I would prefer it that way. Your pants show off what you’ve got going on in both the front and the back, and I think you might get arrested for public indecency. That’d put a damper in the whole trying to get to the World Series thing.”

“Would you bail me out?”

Emma shrugs her shoulders and closes her laptop. “Eh, maybe. I might not have the money with the boots I just bought.”

-/-

They win that night.

It’s close, far closer than Killian would like watching from the sidelines, and he chews more gum than he thinks he’s ever chewed during a game. Rum would be preferable, but that’s not exactly the best solution when he’s got two nights until he’s got to pitch in the game that could bring them to the World Series.

Al really has far too much confidence in Killian for putting him in position in the line-up.

-/-

Killian fucking loves New York.

Sure, it’s hot and crowded and sometimes smells absolutely horrendous, but he loves it. He’s lived here for seven years, had his family live here for more than that, and he can’t imagine having to ever live anywhere else.

This is his home.

For awhile, he didn’t have one, not really. Everything changed when his mom died, the house feeling far emptier than any lived-in house should feel, and it only continued to empty as the years went on and Brennan became more and more of a distant figure. And as much as Killian loved Vanderbilt, that was simply a temporary home.

Manhattan? This is home.

One day he may like to move a little outside of the city to a place with a big yard and less traffic, but right now, everything he loves is here.

Everyone.

“Uncle Killian,” Lucy whispers, tugging on the hem of his shirt, “is it time to eat dinner yet?”

“Not quite yet, Luce. We can go ask Anna about it, though, yeah?”

He bends down and picks Lucy up, resting her on his hip while she wraps her arms around his neck so that she doesn’t fall. He’s picked her up thousands of times, had her little head nestled onto his shoulder twice that many times, but there’s something peaceful about it now as they stand in one of the sitting rooms at Liam’s house looking out onto the street in front of them as cars occasionally pass by and the leaves keep falling from the few trees that line the street.

They got in from Boston this morning, immediately went to practice, and then most everyone came to Liam and Elsa’s house for dinner as some kind of pre-game Friday night dinner to get everyone’s minds off of things.

There are more people in this townhome than it has seen in years, and he doesn’t think anyone is complaining.

Killian is a little bit, if only because his mind is very much focused on tomorrow and not screwing up to let everyone he loves down, and that’s why he’d walked away from the crowd in the kitchen and living room and wandered upstairs to the sitting room that no one ever wanders into.

Except for Lucy apparently.

Kids seem to foil all kinds of plans, and Lucy is not going to be having a fun day tomorrow since she’s most definitely up far past her bedtime.

He is officially an old man.

“What are we eating?”

“I think it’s lasagna. You know, like big spaghetti all moved together.”

“I know what lasagogona is.”

Wow, that was a butchering of the word lasagna if he’s ever heard it.

“You certainly don’t know how to pronounce it.”

Lucy scoffs, like she has never been so offended in her very short life, but she doesn’t say anything else as he walks down the staircase with the wood boards groaning beneath him. Immediately, he’s bombarded by people. Will, Belle, and Elsa are sitting on the ground with diagrams of seating charts spread out between them. Killian would have at least twenty-five questions about why they’re doing seating chart arrangements for the wedding tonight, but he already knows that it’s because they’re using Elsa to help figure out where to sit some of the more difficult people.

(He assumes he and Emma don’t count as those difficult people, but it really depends on how Will feels about him that day.)

Robin, Kris, Liam, Roland, and Addison are sitting on the couch in the living watching what Killian knows is Trolls because he’s been forced to watch it exactly seventeen times, and Eric and Ariel are standing in the kitchen with Anna cooking.

And, well, apparently Emma too.

“Are we sure we trust the blonde to cook for us?” Killian teases, putting Lucy down on the barstool. “Because I’ve had her cooking before, and I’m not sure we should allow her to feed so many people at once.”

“I’m blonde,” Lucy interjects.

“Yes, yes you are. Can you cook, little love?”

“Mommy doesn’t let me.”

“Funny,” Emma huffs, her eyes pointedly staring him down, “your uncle doesn’t seem to think I can cook either even though I’m only tossing the salad and am perfectly capable of that.”

“SoSo, we’re just going to forget the entire cucumber you dropped on the ground earlier?” Anna asks as she lays rolls out on a pan.

“What about the nearly slicing your finger open?” Ariel adds.

“What happens in the kitchen is supposed to stay in the kitchen.”

“Technically,” Eric sighs, “it hasn’t left the kitchen.”

“You guys are fu – fun,” Emma stops herself and changes the word, her eyes blowing wide when she remembers Lucy is in the room. “Luce, sweetie, do you want me to get you some carrots so you can take them in the other room to watch the movie with Addy and Roland?”

“Yes please.”

Emma turns around and opens the fridge, quickly grabbing a bag of sliced carrots, and hands them over to him for him to hand to Lucy. She takes them, mumbles a “thank you,” and then is sprinting to the adjoining living room to watch the movie.

“So you’re just bribing children now, Swan?”

“Yeah,” she shrugs, “but with carrots so it’s healthy. Babe, can you check my phone and see where everyone else is? Ruby said they would be here by now, but I haven’t heard anything from them. Or David and Mary Margaret. I guess they’re all in traffic or something, but it’s radio silence on their end.”

Killian bites the inside of his cheek to keep from giving anything away, hoping that his tan keeps his cheeks from flaming red. “Where’s your phone?”

“In my purse on the table.”

He nods his head and turns around, thankful that it’s a little bit out of sight of Emma, before he’s shuffling through her small purse to find her phone hidden behind every small object known to men. There is a string of texts from Ruby about Graham taking forever to get home and her almost leaving without him, and Killian sincerely hopes that Ruby didn’t actually leave without Graham. That would go against the plan.

Mary Margaret and David, though, are legitimately stuck in Friday night traffic, so at least he doesn’t have to lie about that.

“They’re on their way, love,” he tells Emma, putting her phone back in her purse and walking back to the island so that he can prop his forearms against the cool countertop. “Anna, you realize a few of us have to play a game tomorrow, right? I don’t think we can eat all of this.”

She waves a wooden spoon in the air, little bits of sauce splattering on the ground. “It’s called portion control. I’m sure you’ve heard of it.”

“Killian has. I haven’t,” Eric laughs. “Though, I’m more of a seafood man myself.”

“There’s only so much seafood that you can eat, though, before you become a fish.”

“You only say that because you don’t like it as much as I do.”

Ariel pats her husband’s chest. “Exactly.”

“Oh my God,” Will groans out, and everyone in the kitchen turns to look at him laying out on the floor. “This is impossible. Why do people get married?”

“I think you mean why do people have weddings,” Belle corrects him.

“I’m kind of questioning both at this point.”

Belle flicks a little name card at Will, and Elsa immediately snatches it back and puts it at the little diagrammed table where it’s supposed to be sitting.

“Why have a seating chart in the first place?” Emma asks. “Why not just let people sit where they want to sit?”

“My mother,” Belle sighs, this discussion obviously a frequent one, “is very traditional and specific about how things should be. She grew up in high society, cotillions and things like that, and even though Will and I mostly want this to be one big party, she has opinions. This is a compromise to make her back off until there’s something else she sets her sights on.”

“Huh,” Emma huffs. “Well, as long as I don’t have to sit next to Killian the entire time, I think it’ll be fine.”

“Shit,” Elsa mumbles under her breath even though the words echo throughout the room. “We don’t have cards for Emma and Killian.”

Laughter rumbles through Killian’s stomach as he walks back over to Emma to place his hand on the small of her back over her sweater before taking the strawberries and putting them on the cutting board to slice up. “Swan, it looks like you won’t have to sit with me because we’re apparently been uninvited from the wedding.”

“Damn. I guess we’ll just have to be wedding crashers.”

“I was thinking we could stay home and not wear uncomfortable clothes but still eat incredible food. We could probably dance a little too.”

“He means the horizontal tango, if you know what I mean.”

“We all know what you mean, Will,” Ariel sighs with a shake of her head but laughter on her lips. “But there are people here related to Killian who probably aren’t too inclined to hear about his sex life.”

“I’m not particularly inclined to hear about Emma’s,” David says, and Killian whips his head around to see he, Mary Margaret, and Leo walking thoughthrough the open garage door. “Or Killian’s. Though I hope they’re one and the same.”

“Okay,” Emma hums, dragging out the word, “we need a change in conversation, something like everyone greeting my brother and nixing this conversation entirely.”

“I mean, I’m kind of curious, but Leo is right here.”

“Mary Margaret,” Emma gasps, and Killian misses what has to be an absolutely priceless look on her face in favor of putting his knife down and walking over to Leo so that they can do their secret handshake that seems to change every time they see each other.

“I like you hat, bud,” Killian compliments. He tugs on the bill, and Leo blushes underneath it. “I think there are some other guys here tonight who would sign it for you if you want.”

Leo’s brows furrow together and the smile on his face completely goes away. Shit. What did Killian do wrong?

“Maybe another hat. I don’t want this one to get messed up.”

“Why not?”

“You signed this one,” he whispers, even if it’s not quiet at all, “and you’re my favorite player.”

“I thought it was your favorite because I gave it to you, kid,” Emma protests as she steps around him and leans down to wrap Leo up in a hug, squeezing him too tightly out of some kind of silent protest.

“I only asked for it because Killian is my favorite player.”

“You’re my favorite nephew.”

Leo rolls his eyes, and while he and Emma may not be related, Killian knows that he got that from her. “I’m your only nephew.”

“Which makes me your favorite.” She kisses his cheek, which makes Leo’s cheeks turn as red as the strawberries. “All the other kids are in that room right over there if you want to go hang out with them until dinner is ready.”

Leo runs off, and David and Mary Margaret take his place by stepping in and greeting everyone with a wave or a hug. It’s so many people, all of them from different social circles, and yet it’s amazing how well they’ve all managed to blend together. Killian knows that he started off with more people than Emma simply by the nature of his job, that most of the people in this house would technically be considered “his,” but he likes to think that they’re Emma’s too.

His phone buzzes in his back pocket, and he pulls it out to see a message from Graham just as Emma sits down and picks up a glass of wine.

Graham Humbert: We just pulled up outside. Can you send Emma out? Say something about needing help with the dessert. I think Ruby would like to tell her before she tells everyone inside.

Killian: Yeah, I’ll send her out. Congrats, mate! I’m happy for the two of you!

“Love?”

“Yeah?”

“I think Ruby and Graham just got here. Do you want to go out and see if they need any help?”

“Why don’t you do it?”

Of course she’s going to be stubborn about.

“I’m finishing this salad,” he lies, even though he really should finish the salad since he took it over from Emma. Will lets out another curse having to do with the seating chart, and there’s a reassurance from Mary Margaret that it will all be okay. “Just go help them. They have the dessert. You love dessert.”

Emma’s brows bunch together and her lips snarl, but she puts the glass of wine that she’s drinking down and stands from the barstool she’s sitting on to go walk out of the garage door and down the stairs. She’s going to be pissed at him for the entire walk out there, but he knows that it won’t be long. And curious as Killian is, he leaves the kitchen to walk over to the bay window so that he can look down at the street where Ruby and Graham are getting out of Graham’s squad car with boxes of pies in their hands. Emma quickly appears, her hands moving as she talks, and then Ruby puts her set of boxes on the hood of the car.

And while Killian can’t hear any screaming or squealing – Emma isn’t really the type – he knows that some kind of inhuman noise just came out of her before she launched herself forward to hug Ruby, squeezing so tightly that he imagined Ruby can’t breathe. And then Graham nearly drops all of the pies when Emma hugs him too. Killian chuckles to himself, a smile stretching across his lips, and then David comes up behind him.

“What’s all that about?”

“You’ll find out in a minute, I’m sure.”

“Secrets don’t make friends.”

“Yeah, yeah they do,” Killian laughs, smiling at David. “And I love how casually you’re referring to me as your friend. It really touches a man’s heart, Dave.”

“Watch it, or I’ll take it back.”

By the time Killian looks back out the window, Graham is gone, leaving Emma and Ruby out to talk. Killian is sure that they’ll be out there for awhile, probably far later than they intend to, and he knows he’ll have to go with them when the food gets here. The door opens then to Graham walking inside with the boxes. Ariel immediately rushes to help him, mostly likely because she likes to talk his ear off about all of the cases he can talk about (she’s very into True Crimes oddly enough), but Killian walks over to save him, grabbing Graham’s hand in greeting before pulling him into a hug and patting his back.

“Congratulations, mate.”

“Thank you,” Graham beams, his smile infectious. “I still can’t believe it.” “What can’t you believe?” Ariel asks as she swipes a finger through the whipped cream on a pie only for Eric to slap her hand away.

Killian looks over at Graham, silently asking if he wants to say something, and he nods, that smile still on his face. “I’ve asked Ruby to marry me today, and she said yes.”

“Congratulations!”

“You did what now?”

“How could you not tell me this?”

“This is so exciting!”

“Whatever you do, don’t do a fucking seating chart for the reception.”

It’s this big, loud chorus of voices and conversations, and it pulls in everyone from the living room too so that it gets so loud that Killian is sure the neighbors can hear. Killian isn’t even entirely sure which legs belong to who for how much movement there is, hugs being exchanged between people who didn’t even get engaged tonight, and it all starts to calm down a bit only for Ruby and Emma walk in the door.

Obviously, things never calm down again.

Ruby and Graham don’t even get to spend much time with this group of people, especially Graham since his schedule never seems to match up with any of theirs, so it’s nice to see the overwhelming joy that’s there for the two of them.

“Congratulations, lass,” he sighs into Ruby’s ear when she finally makes her way to him at the edge of the room, her arms wrapped around her shoulders. “Were you surprised?”

“Yes,” she sighs, her laughter moving through him. “I can’t believe you knew about it.”

Killian rubs his hand up and down her back. “I had to make sure Emma was out of the apartment when it happened because Graham just knew that she would somehow find a way to show up if left to her own devices.”

“I think I could kiss you for doing that.”

“I don’t think that’s very becoming of a newly engaged woman.”

Ruby pulls back and winks at him before leaning forward and kissing his cheek. “You know that I don’t like following the rules.”

“What is this I hear about you knowing about this before it happened?” Emma questions as she saunters up to him, a soft smile on her face and the slightest bit of mascara smudged under her eyes. “I thought we had an agreement about lying to each other, twenty-nine.”

Killian hums and wraps his arms around her back, pulling her closer to him while her arms lazily hang over his neck. “Yeah, well, I was under strict instructions that you weren’t to know because Graham didn’t want you to tell Ruby.”

“I can keep a secret.”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell.”

Her lip quirks to the side before she presses up on her toes and gently guides her mouth over his. “I’m glad you didn’t tell me. I like that Ruby was the one who got to tell me.”

“Me too, love.”

“All of our friends have to stop getting married. This is getting expensive.”

“Well, you shouldn’t have blown all your money on those damn boots.”

Emma slaps the back of his head even as she kisses him, and he wonders exactly where along the way did he do something right to get to have this be his life.

“Okay,” Anna yells over all of the noise, and Killian looks to see her standing on a barstool as if she needs any help commanding attention, “I know everyone is super excited right now, but let’s all be super excited over dinner. It’s time to eat.”

“Thank goodness,” Lucy breathes out. “I thought I was going to perish.”

“Where’d she learn that word?” Emma wonders as everyone starts laughing.

“I don’t even know.”

The conversation and laughter never diesdie down, not when there’s that many people around, and Killian’s stomach hurts from it all, his face a little too. His nerves about the game tomorrow and all that’s on the line haven’t disappeared, but they’re not at the forefront of his mind either. He has other things to focus on even if his mind is getting a little dizzy at the thought of keeping track of it all, but it becomes easier as the night passes, the light outside fading away into darkness, and as children move off to go to sleep, Addy and Lucy to their rooms and Leo and Roland stretched out in a guest room until their parents are ready to go home, everyone else settles into the living room with a replay of last night’s game in Boston on so that they can all watch some more footage in preparation.

He’s sitting on the floor in between Emma’s legs, and her hands are lulling him to sleep from the way that she keeps playing with his hair.

It’s like magic, her touch, and he’s utterly under her spell.

“I’m freaking the hell out about tomorrow,” Will whispers quietly as they watch him stumble over a catch in yesterday’s game.

“Me too,” Robin adds in. “Honestly, the only thing that’s keeping me calm, especially since I’m not playing, is knowing that not only did we make it to the Series last year, we won the whole damn thing.”

“Here’s the thing, though,” Killian starts as he leans her head further into Emma’s lap so that she can scratch his scalp. Damn, that might be the best feeling in the world. “No one gives a fuck about what happened last year. That trophy on our shelf from last year? It’s old news. All anyone cares about is what’s happening this year. All we should care about is what’s happening this year. Everyone always complains about those guys who can only seem to live in the glory days when the glory days are long since gone, and we’re not going to be those men. We’re not resting on our laurels. We’re going to win tomorrow, and then we’re going to win the next four games to win the whole damn thing.”

“What if we don’t?” Will questions, and for once, Killian can tell that Will is legitimately nervous.

“We’re going to, Scarlet. I won’t take another option.”

“Look at my little brother being all motivating,” Liam teases.

Killian does raise his hand and his middle finger at that. “Younger, you ass.”

“You’ll always be my little brother. I’ll stop calling you that when you’ve got three World Series championships to your name, yeah?”

“Oi, I know that I’m good, but I don’t know if I can rely on these guys to not only win this year’s but also another one after that?” Emma slaps the back of his head, and he leans back to look up at her. “I’m obviously kidding, my love.”

“Yeah, but that’s not a great way to motivate the guys for tomorrow when you had a pretty good speech going there.”

Robin coughs, something exaggerated and totally on purpose. “Killian saves his best speeches for right before a the game starts. Probably because he doesn’t have his brother and his girlfriend distracting him by making fun of him. Not that I’m complaining or anything. I’m all for taking that piss out of Killian.”

“Someone hand me a pillow,” Killian demands, looking around. “I want to knock the smirk off of Rob’s face.”

“That’s an impossible task,” Ariel starts, a bright, happy smile on her face. “Let’s go back to loving each other and watching game footage. I don’t know about you guys, but I want that trophy back. I get a bonus from both Eric and Killian’s contract for it.”

“I always knew that I liked you,” Ruby adds in, and everyone starts laughing, the long day and late night probably getting to everyone a little bit. “Do you share the bonus with your husband since he earned it? I’m asking the important questions here as someone who is about to get married?”

“Rubes.” Emma curls her fingers in his hair and shakes her head. “Are you about to be one of those people who works in that you’re engaged all the time?”

“For the next two weeks, you bet your ass I am. It would normally only be a week, but since I think all we’re about to talk about now is baseball, I’m asking for two.”

“I would expect nothing less than you.”

Everyone leaves eventually with sleepy smiles on their faces and leftovers in hand, and as nervous as Killian still is, he finds yet again that it’s not at all like last year when he was going through this all. He’s got Emma curled up next to him in bed and a happy life outside of work, and at the end of the day, his life won’t be over if they lose.

He simply doesn’t like losing.

-/-

Killian’s arm feels fine.

Good. Great even. It’s the best it’s felt in months, even if he’s still a little timid with how much he’s using it and the fear of it screwing up again since there is such a risk for that, but he feels good standing out here under the heat of the sun with thousands of people milling in the stands and thousands more sitting at home watching on their television just wondering if today is going to be the day that the Yankees officially cement their spot in the World Series with the Dodgers already waiting there.

It could be a repeat of last year, just like everyone thought it would be, and Killian damn well intends to make those thoughts come true. They’re not resting on the laurelsrelying on what happened of last year. They’re doing it for themselves once more like it’s all brand new and they don’t know the high of being at the top of the world.

Sweat trickles down Killian’s forehead past his cap, and he reaches up to remove his hat for a second while he wipes the sweat away with his forehead. It’s not hot out today, only around sixty degrees, but Killian’s skin is on fire with the rapid beating of his heart that hasn’t calmed down since this morning.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Ball.

One. Two. Three.

Strike.

One. Two. Three.

Strike, he’s out.

Travis is out, the top of the fourth inning is over, Killian has thrown some damn good pitches in tight situations to keep the Sox from scoring, and the Yankees are up 4-0.

There’s still a long game to go, though.

Not for Killian, though. He’s out for the day. He knew going in that Al wouldn’t keep him in for longer than this. Honestly, he’s surprised that he allowed it for this long, but this is all so they’ll stay in the correct pitching order if they make it to the Series.

When.

Not if.

Killian wants to stay in the dugout and watch from out here, but he knows that he has to go inside and get massaged and do his cool-down exercises. He can watch from one of the televisions with everyone else who’s inside and make his way back out toward the end of the game.

It’s like all at once these games are five minutes and then suddenlysuddenly, they’re five hours.

But the time does pass as Killian goes through his routines to make sure that he’s healthy and that his arm is healthy, and by the time that he’s back out in the dugout changed into a pair of clean joggers and a pullover, his hat from earlier long gone, it’s the top of the ninth with two outs, only one man on base, and the score highly in their favor.

If they blow a 9-2 lead, they deserve to have to play it all out in a deciding game tomorrow.

“Come on, Lance,” Killian shouts out, banging his hands against the railing. “Just one more throw. One more strike, and you’re done.”

“He’s going to mess up if you keep yelling at him like that,” Al spits out as he chews on the gum he’s always chewing.

“No, no he’s not. He’s got this. We’ve got this.”

“You have far more optimism than any sideline coach should have.”

Killian turns his head to look at Al, a smile stretching across his lips. “It’s a damn good thing I’m not a coach then.”

And then there’s the sound of Lance’s ball hitting Will’s glove, the yell of the word “strike,” and the roar of the New York crowd as the game finishes.

They’re going to the World Series.

Killian’s heart pounds in his chest, emotion welling up in his throat, and all of the sounds become muted. Every single one of them except for his heart and the blood running through his veins. People yell and shout and scream, but he can’t hear any of it as he rushes out into the field to join his teammates where they’re jumping up and down, arms wrapped around each other as they become a mesh of one instead of twenty different men, those who played today and those who didn’t.

Someone pats his back, and the noises come back, cheers of celebration and curses and familiar voices of the people who he spends his life with.

They’re not resting on their laurels of last year, he thinks to himself once more. They’re achieving new things.

“Jones,” Lance calls out as the pile disperses and everyone starts moving around the field, “your girlfriend wants an interview with us.”

Killian arches a brow, spinning on his heel to try to find Emma, and he sees her standing with a microphone in her hand and Jeff standing with the camera behind her. She’s wearing the damn boots, the ones she just ordered, and if there wasn’t already a smile on his face, that would cause his lips to reach his ears.

He has no idea why Emma wants to interview him when there were five innings played without him, when Lance and Eric and Will are the guys who deserve the attention and the praise, but he knows that a lot of the time Emma isn’t in charge of who she interviews. That’s left up to the people behind the scenes.

Killian wants to kiss Emma and the smile on her face, wants to wrap her up in a hug, but he holds back, stepping up to her with Lance next to him as Frank Sinatra begins to play over the speakers. He’d think that he’d get tired of this song, but it never gets old.

“Congratulations,” Emma starts, her hand reaching up to adjust her earpiece. “That was just an incredible game. How does it feel to be going to the World Series for the second year in a row?”

She holds the microphone out to Lance. “No, no. Let Jones answer first. He usually takes the words right out of my mouth.”

“You sure?”

He nods his head, and Emma moves the microphone over to him. “Well, what do you say twenty-nine? How does it feel?”

Killian reaches up to scratch behind his ear. “I can’t curse, can I?”

“Only if you want to pay a fine.”

“Right then,” he laughs, smiling down at Emma and completely ignoring the camera. “It feels good. Better than good. This season has obviously had its ups and downs, especially for me, and I’m happy that I didn’t let this team down when they deserve so much. I’m – ”

Killian stops talking when all of the sudden Emma starts darting in the other direction, and by the time that he realizes what’s going on, the cool feel of Gatorade is being poured down on top of him so that chill bumps rise on his arms and his clothes cling to his skin. Killian sees Lance first and sees him shaking out the sticky liquid from his uniform, and then he sees Will and Eric running away with the orange container where the Gatorade once was. But then he sees Emma a few feet away absolutely laughing her ass off, and even if it goes against their agreement about how they’re going to act when working, he can’t stop himself from running toward her and immediately wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her to him as her hands push at his chest and laughter passes through her lips.

“You’re covered in Gatorade,” she laughs, still pushing at him even if he knows it’s not a true effort. “It’s sticky.” “And you ran way and let it happen.”

“Which was obviously useless considering I’m going to be covered in it now.”

“Exactly the point,” he chuckles while Emma stops squirming against him and casually wraps her arms around his neck, obviously having accepted that she’s going to be covered in Gatorade too. “We’re going to the World Series, Swan.”

“I know.” And then she kisses him.

-/-

Tag list: @authorarsinoe @stunningswan @eala-captian @galaxyzxstark @xellewoods @mariakov81 @ultraluckycatnd @royalswan @shey-starsfury @superchocovian @sals86 @iam2307 @ashley-knightingale @karenfrommisthaven @scientificapricot @captswanis4vr @ultimiflos @jamif @idristardis @nikkiemms @resident-of-storybrooke @tiganasummertree @bmbbcs4evr @onceuponaprincessworld @jennjenn615 @mayquita @captainsjedi @teamhook @notoriouscs @kmomof4 @ekr032-blog-blog @cs-forlife @andiirivera @jonirobinson64 @qualitycoffeethings @carpedzem @tornadoamy

#catch me if you can #cs fic #cs fanfic #cs ff #captain swan fic #captain swan ff #captain swan fanfic

94 notes · View notes

inglourious-imagines · 5 years

Text

PROMPT LIST

Hello fellas! This is my own prompt list! Feel free to send requests! I'm really excited to do this haha

Also, this really took me some time to put it all together so please, if you reblog/use it/etc. give me credit. Thanks!

Update: If you have your own prompt that is not listed, quote or whatever else and you think it's great, you can send it to me and we'll see what comes out of it.

1. I fucking hate everyone. But you, you're the only person I don't hate.

2. And he looked at me, like there was something in me worth looking at.

3. Anger makes you stupid. Stupid gets you killed.

4. I'm here. You can talk to me or not talk to me but I'm here.

5. Goddamn right you should be scared of me!

6. And suddenly, life wasn't about living. It was about surviving.

7. "-but you'll die!" "I don't care."

8. I said I'm fucking fine.

9. Don't you touch her.

10. We sat there smoking cigarettes at 5 in the morning.

11. Oh! The girl/boy I've heard so much about.

12. No one would hurt you again, or I'd kill them.

13. A cigarette for a thousand problems.

14. I could keep you save. They're all afraid of me.

15. You look so proud standing there with a frown and a cigarette.

16. Thank you for loving me when I still tasted of heartache and war.

17. His eyes had more darkness than any other eyes I had ever seen before.

18. You don't know shit about what happened to me.

19. This is who we are, a product of war.

20. Looking half a corpse and half a god.

21. I wanna see how you lose control.

22. I look at you and I just love you and it terrifies me. It terrifies me what I would do for you.

23. "You can't protect everyone." "I have to try."

24. He's a badass with a good heart.

25. You are losing my interest, and that is very dangerous.

26. In a fight, they're lethal. Around each other, they melt.

27. I wonder which will get you killed faster, your loyalty or your stubbornness.

28. You collect scars because you want proof that you are paying for whatever sins you've comitted.

29. With this smile, I can get away with everything.

30. I was so stupid to make the mistake of falling in love with my best friend.

31. Come over here and make me.

32. Oh my god! You're in love with him!

33. Oh, do you ever shut up?

34. Can you two please get a room?

35. I have a name and it's not sweetheart.

36. If I ever see you anywhere near her, you'll have to deal with me.

37. Everyone keeps telling me you're the bad guy.

38. Such dirty words from such a pretty little mouth.

39. Kiss me.

40. Are you flirting or starting a fight?

41. You stay awake do you hear me?! Don't you dare close your eyes! Please! Come on!

42. Honestly, I only asked you for help because it's so cute when you try.

43. You're standing a little close to me..

44. You're evil. It's hot.

45. If you bite your lip one more time, I swear I'm going to do it for you.

46. By the Gods! You love her, don't you?

47. It's blood, not nuclear waste. Chill out.

48. A knife? Are you flirting with me?

49. "Hear me out." "Why the fuck should i listen to you?"

50. I've been wanting to kick your ass all week.

51. Rumour has it, I make you nervous.

52. Leave, leave right now.

53. Can you just fuck off already?

54. "I- I trusted you!" "Sweet naive girl, trust is for children. You are a soldier."

55. Alcohol's the only instant in my life.

56. You gotta stop saying things that make me want to kiss you.

57. Please don't do this. Don't act like you care.

58. Is everything supposed to go dark?

59. Why can't you see what you're doing to me.

60. Fuck, you're the most beautiful person I've ever seen in my whole life.

61. It's 2 in the morning. Why are you still up?

62. I want an answer, goddammit!

63. You make me want things I can't have.

64. Cut the crap and tell me what happened.

65. Hear my heartbeat? Just focus on that.

66. It's nice to see someone who can appreciate my humour.

67. We're more than just friends and you know it.

68. It's pitch black in here and I can see you're blushing.

69. Yes asshole, I do care about you.

70. They're both stubborn and it's complicated.

71. For you, I would.

72. I like you more than I planned.

73. I need you, idiot.

74. Golden eyes and a smile made for war.

75. Take that, fuckers!

76. I licked it so it's mine!

77. We're in this together.

78. Can I have this dance?

79. Look, I know you're a hardass but can you play with my hair? It would really help.

80. No! Stay away from me! Stay back!

81. Maybe if you actually stop staring at her and talk to her, you might have a chance.

82. You have to promise you won't fall in love with me.

83. I know that face. That's your I'm-upset-with-you face.

84. I think we'd make this a fair fight if we each had a gun. Don't you think, boys?

85. He loves you, you know? He's just afraid of admitting it.

86. Dear Lord, please have mercy on my soul. This woman/man will be the death of me.

87. There are other things than Germans that can kill you.

88. What the hell? You are supposed to hate me!

89. Why do you like me?

90. "You're annoying." "You love me."

91. Wanna go to hell together?

92. I lack the vocabulary to describe you.

93. You make me feel... you make me feel."

94. What the fuck...?

95. So that's you, the girl/boy who destroyed armies.

96. You're my regret.

97. You better not die on me!

98. Can you stop shouting at me?!

99. Why are you making this so damn hard?

100. But that's the problem, (name). I don't think I'm able to stop loving him/her. Ever.

! UPDATE !

101. There is no way you're going anywhere with him, not on my watch.

102. “You know you're in love with her right?” “Since when?” “Since always.”

103. Give me one good reason why I shouldn’t do this.

104. I love you, I do, but you're a real pain in the ass.

105. Is that my shirt?

106. Neither one of us is drunk enough for this conversation.

107. I think I might be falling in love with you.

108. What are you talking about? You’re married!

109. I saw that. You just checked me out.

110. Quick, pretend you're talking to me.

111. I just wanted to hear your voice.

112. That was, by far, the stupidest thing you’ve ever done.

113. No. The moment you saw me as a bet was the moment you fucked up.

114. "It could be worse." “You aren’t the one bleeding.” "Look, you're still alive. Stop whining."

115. Are you naked under that thing?

116. "Are you flirting with me?” “You finally noticed?”

117. What the hell were you thinking?!

18. You’ve been drinking tonight, haven’t you?

119. Well, if I told you, then it wouldn’t be a secret.

120. Is it weird that was a total turn on?

121. That was the worst joke I’ve ever heard.

122. If I kiss you right now, I won’t be able to stop.

123. What did you just say?

64 notes · View notes

thenovelartist · 5 years

Text

Kitty’s Key, set 9

25. Puss and Boots

He shouldn’t let the words of others get to him. He really shouldn’t. But here he was, letting those nasty words and haunting thoughts get under his skin.

“Princess,” he said, looking up at her from his position on his stomach on her chaise. “I’m your knight in shining armor, aren’t I?”

She scoffed, not looking up from her project. “More like a Puss in Boots.”

He frowned but immediately covered it up with a smile. “Ouch, princess. That one stings.”

Apparently, he couldn’t keep the hurt from his voice, though, because Marinette put down her project and looked at him. “What’s the matter, Chat?”

He sighed, letting his chin fall on top his hands. “I’m just being stupid. That’s all.”

“How are you being more stupid than normal?” she asked, setting the project completely aside.

“I’m believing the people that say I’m not helpful to Ladybug.”

She scoffed, then stood from her seat to walk over to him. “You’re right. You are being stupid.”

He felt her weight on his back as she laid over top of him, her arms wrapping around his neck best she could as she propped her chin on his shoulder. “You know you’re the most important thing to me, right? As both my partner I can’t live without and my boyfriend that I love and adore.” Her hand then moved, slowly slipping beneath him so that her hand rested over his where his heart would be. “You are valuable to me. And anyone who suspects otherwise is an idiot.”

He smiled, feeling the warmth radiate from her palm on his chest. He reached up to cradle her cheek, holding her there long enough for him to be able to nuzzle against her head.

“I’m not kidding when I called you my Puss in Boots, though,” she said. “Some brave, fearless, swashbuckling, flirty cat. Yeah. That sounds about right. He was pretty cute, too.”

He chuckled. “Thank you, ma princesse.”

She blushed whenever he called her that. “Stop it, you stupid cat.”

He’d believe she meant that when she wasn’t cuddling him or hiding her face in his hair.

26. Fencing + 27. Protecting You

No normal girl should get this excited over a knock at her skylight.

But Marinette supposed she was no normal girl.

“Chat,” she said, looking up at the young man in black leather sitting cross-legged by her skylight in wait.

“Hey, bugaboo,” he returned with a grin. “I actually can’t stay long, but I kinda couldn’t wait to ask you.”

“Ask me what?”

“If you were free Saturday.”

She grinned at the prospect of a date. Even if she wasn’t, she’d rearrange her schedule for it. But then she recalled that she and Alya and Nino had made plans already and she couldn’t back out. “Like, Saturday night?” she asked hopefully.

“All day.”

She frowned. “No, I’m not. Why?”

His ears and smile fell, life draining from his eyes. “Oh. I… I wanted to invite you somewhere. That’s all.”

She groaned. “I’m so sorry, kitty. But Alya, Nino, and I already made plans last week to go watch Adrien at his fencing tournament since it’s a thousand percent likely that his dad is going to back out and he’s always really upset that no one is there to support him.”

Chat blinked a few times, his ears perking right back up. “Fencing tournament?”

She nodded. “I’m sorry, kitty, but I can’t back out on this one. Not when I have other people counting on me.”

“No!” he cried. “No, it’s not… not that. It’s that… I actually wanted to invite you to that fencing tournament.”

She blinked a few times. “What?”

He nodded. “Yeah. I’ll… I’ll be fencing in it, too.”

“You fence?” The moment those words left her mouth, she realized she shouldn’t be surprised. She’d watched his fighting style for years and knew enough about the sport to know that he did often look like he was wielding a sword.

He nodded. “Yeah. But… You’ll already be at the tournament, it seems.”

She nodded. “I will be. I will be rooting for Adrien, but…” She reached out to grab Chat’s hand. “But now, I’ll be rooting for you, too.”

His smile widened. With his free hand, he cupped the back of Marinette’s head, pulling her closer so that she was touching his forehead. She hummed happily.

“So,” he began in a whisper. “Does this mean you’ll finally let me tell you who I am?”

She froze, realizing that she really didn’t have any more excuses to keep Chat from revealing himself to her. This was it. This was the moment that all remaining secrets were dropped.

At her lack of answer, he pulled away. “What’s the matter, princess?”

She forced a smile and shrugged. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I really… I don’t know. There’s no reason to withhold it anymore yet… this is going to sound stupid, but I’m nervous.”

He cocked his head, his lip twitching up in amusement. “What’s there to be scared of?”

She shrugged. “I don’t know. I just am.”

When he smiled, it was a gentle, loving grin. He unzipped his pocket and pulled out something. “For you,” he said, opening his hand to reveal a key on a necklace. He grabbed the chain and dropped it over her head. “This is the key to my heart, okay? Wear it to the tournament, under your shirt so no one else will comment on it. Come early so I can find you, okay? And you’ll know it’s me because I’ll be the one to comment, okay? That way you’ll know just who to root for.”

She looked down at the key in her hands, one that was on a chain around her neck. “This is the key that you wore for the Adrien contest, isn’t it?”

He shrugged. “What does it matter. It’s the key to my heart, now. I know you’ll protect it, just like you know I protect the key to yours.”

Her cheeks lit on fire. “I do know.”

With a grin that was unabashedly happy, Chat took her hands in his, curling her fingers around the key before pressing a kiss to her hand. “I trust you more than anyone, Marinette,” he said, whispering her name so reverently that she felt like she just might faint. “I trust you to protect that for me.”

With that, he stood. “But for now, I have another commitment. I’ll see you soon.”

She grinned, feeling warm to the core. “I’ll see you soon, mon chaton.”

One last salute, and he was gone, vaulting over the city to who-knew-where. Leaving one very happy princess with a key on a chain that landed right beside her heart. She’d protect her kitty’s heart, and she’d happily spend the rest of life proving that to him.

28. Secrets

Marinette stood nervously in one of the hallways of the tournament building. The occasional contestant was passing her on their way to get to the lockers. Two people asked if she was lost, at which point she just smiled and said she was waiting for someone.

Who, though, was the question.

Not for the first time, her nerves spiked, ruining the semblance of calmness she was holding onto. It took a good moment to talk herself down from the cliff each time.

“My lady.”

Marinette froze, not daring to turn around and face the voice behind her.

“Marinette,” Chat said again.

She could feel him right behind her. And then, she could see him when he wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her close.

Her eyes closed automatically, though she did see his white fencing uniform over his arms. Next thing she knew, her back was flush against his chest, his chin resting on top of her head.

He was tall enough to do that, stupid cat.

“You came,” he said.

“I did,” she said.

“And…” He took his chin off her head. “I see the chain on your neck.”

“Of course,” she said.

“So,” he said, stepping away from her. “Why are your eyes still closed?”

She blushed, her lips pursing in embarrassment.

She gasped at the sudden feeling of his fingers brushing her collarbone. Only to grab the necklace, she eventually realized, pulling the key from its spot hidden under her shirt. “Don’t you want to see the man who hold the key to your heart?”

She did. She knew she did. That was why she came early. She came to see him. To learn who the man who knew about that key was. She only had to open her eyes.

After a steadying breath, she cracked one eye open, only for her other to fly open and her jaw to drop.

Because standing there with a smile, holding the golden key…

Was Adrien Agreste.

“Hey,” he said.

“H-hey,” she responded, her voice barely strong enough to be heard.

He was quiet for a few seconds before asking, “Are you okay… knowing it’s me?”

No. No, she wasn’t. She was going to die on the spot because here was her kitty: the boy she’d fallen in love with years ago and forced herself to give up for the man who was now standing before her.

She was so confused.

And considering his expression fell, her inner turmoil must have been obvious. “Marinette?”

That snapped her from her thoughts. “Huh?”

“Are you okay?”

“No,” she blurted. “No. I’m freaking out.”

He gave a pained half smile. “I’m sorry. Is it too much?”

“Yes!” she squeaked. “My head is going to explode because I just…” She took a breath. “It’s you. You’re my Chat. You made me give up you for you. You were an idiot and put the key around your own neck for that stupid contest, which now makes me realize, you’re a total cheater. How dare you. I can’t—”

Adrien was suddenly laughing. “Oh, Marinette,” he said, scooping her up in his arms and holding her against his chest. “I tried to tell you.”

He did, she realized. Many times. She buried her head into his shoulder and let loose a groan. “I’m such an idiot!”

He chuckled again. “No, you’re not. You’re just My Marinette with all her weird quirks.”

With that, he pulled back enough to be able to press a kiss to her forehead. “You know I love all those little quirks, right?”

She just groaned.

He pulled her in again, holding her tight. “As much as I want to stay right here,” he said. “I should be with my team right now. Sorry to leave you.”

Reluctantly, she forced herself out of her hiding spot against him. “I understand. Go be with your team.”

“Thank you for coming today,” he said. “You and Alya and Nino.”

She grimaced. “I can’t believe I ruined the surprise.”

“Honestly,” he said. “Knowing that you three, particularly you, would be here in the stands today has already pumped me up more than you can imagine. Thank you, all three of you, for coming. It means the world. If I win today, it’s all because of you.”

She felt a new burst of warmth shoot through her. “Then go win for us, okay?”

“I’ll do my best. But there might be one thing that makes me do better.”

Her brow furrowed. “And what’s that?”

“A kiss?” he asked, tapping his cheek. “Right here.”

Marinette watched as someone passed by, waiting for them to disappear down the other end of the hallway before conceding. “All right,” she said, reaching up to cradle his jaw and press a kiss to his cheek.

“And if you win the tournament,” she said, somehow finding the courage to tap his lips. “I’ll give you all the kisses you want.”

Slowly, that signature, lopsided Chat Noir grin spread across his face. “Then I look forward to it, my lady.”

#miraculous ladybug #fanfiction #marichat may 2019 #marichat #marinette dupain cheng #chat noir #fluff #reveal

383 notes · View notes

valiantchopshopharmony · 4 years

Text

Starting a Photography Business Will Be Easier With These 30 Free Tips

When you are a keen photographer and you've got the urge to devote your working life doing something you like such as photography, then it will be a pity if you did not pursue it further would not it? You truly don't need to combine an institution or cover thousands of bucks to begin either. You merely want the fire to understand and persist.

It is correct that there's riches to be made from photography and I am not planning to down play that make a pitch to the contrary since in each instance, it's been around the person. Meaning - it depends on what style of photography they select, how long they put in the company, Photography Course in south Delhi do they have a business bent, are somewhat more arty than normal etc.. These points come to play when achievement in a photography company or studio is contested.

I really don't need to make some false hopes by that last paragraph since victory will need some hard work, patience and tolerance. These subsequent thirty tips should help you on the way.

Where do I obtain information about constructing a photography company?

1. Apart from that, the world wide web is the largest source of advice and can supply you with various career opportunities or more info on starting a photography company.

At which level would you like to begin your photography company?

2. This is actually the trickiest question a individual considering starting a company experiences. It's essential to determine what sort of photography company you would like to ensure the applicable requirements and (occasionally ) finance could be muscled up. short term photography courses in south east delhi

When is the ideal time to initiate a fully-fledged photography company?

3. After deciding what you want and some additional necessary equipment that's required to prepare the basic infrastructure, then you'll have to think about carefully your primary instrument - the camera, be it film or digital. You also have to consider carefully a trusted, high quality PC and great relevant software to control your photos using special effects. If the company has been undertaken on a huge scale then perhaps a growing lab has to be established and planned.

O what type of places will yield actual income to your enterprise?

4. A newly established company in photography demands a confident place or a beat (working anyplace ), as in journalism. Once recognized, company may also be diversified into a lot more fields.

O Assembling a photography portfolio

5. It's always very important to compile a fantastic portfolio so far as photography is concerned. A portfolio must have an assortment of applicable photographic work which you think to be remarkable. Ensure photographs are unusual in nature and are from varied fields. Your portfolio has to have the ability to impress the customer from the very first assembly.

6. Just keep your very best work from the folder so you don't embarrass yourself or wind up needing to describe photographs that are not applicable.

7. Publish spontaneous photographs that you think are of fantastic quality. You would be amazed how many men and women respond favorably to individuals expressions when they're great shots.

Food styling courses in west delhi

8. A canvas backdrop of minimum 7-9 foot along with the background colours should be navy or white as minimal requirements to begin using; a well-branded studio lighting system like that of Norman & Speedtron; accredited picture manipulation applications like Photoshop, Corel Paint Shop, etc..

Is there a demand for establishing a cosmetics studio as a portion of your photograph studio?

9. Makeup and photography frequently go together. Wherever cosmetics is involved it can be known as trick photography since cosmetics is capable of entirely changing somebody's character, and at times significance to some product in the event of advertising photography.

What type of photo-editing applications available on the industry?

10. Photo-editing applications by which particular effects and total adjustments to a photograph are possible and may also frequently save the demand for a shoot.

11.

Is storage and therapy of photos crucial in building photographs company?

12. Never embrace laxity whilst archiving or handling photos. You may regret it afterwards. Storage and accessibility efficiency will improve or enhance your working atmosphere. Often elderly photographs become more precious with time.

How can be photos be stored readily aside from the traditional method?

13. Today's cameras are exceptionally versatile and enables transfers and downloads from exceptionally surprising devices such as your cellphone but images may also be saved onto a CD's, USB's and DVD's too.

O picking a Camera

14. Stick to w ell recognized manufacturer. The degree of mega pixel provided and high quality of this zooming facility has to be looked into carefully.

15. The majority of the cameras are compatible with all printers and computers and because we use memory sticks, so we're free to work invisibly.

O what type of a site does one person must get?

16. Your assortment of photos have to be correctly categorized under different categories. Visual look of your site will work amazing things for your company so consider establishing one with semi automatic automation in which the upkeep and challenging work is done for you enjoy photostockplus.

17. Don't forget to continuously update and maintain your site so that every time people encounter your site, they will discover nice something fresh and intriguing.

18. Copyright is the right protects the individual who owns who shot the photos. A smart exercise if you're seeking to utilize some inventory homes for business purposes.

O What's a company card useful?

19. In each company, visiting cards are all useful. It's very helpful in for folks to get in touch with you after your initial meeting. It has to include all of your contact details. If you are a photographer, a smart impressive graphic or an image of yourself along with your gear is greatest. Your telephone number or email has to be simple to read. I've seen cards which have big names and graphics and the telephone numbers are so small they're hard to read. Ridiculous! Make your telephone number the most significant thing about the card that's what most folks will use it to get.

O Which things have to be considered as you intend to construct a wedding photography company?

20. Wedding Photography is another artwork unto itself. There are various things to consider for a really prosperous wedding shoot. I've prepared another guide to manage this in more detail and it is about --Wedding Photography. --

O Benefit of mission photography

21. Assignment photography is that division of photography in which a individual has been engaged or consigned to catch pictures of something striking and extraordinary, including in the case of advertisements or portrait photography; this can supply you a steady income once you have learned the principles.

O Benefit of stock photography

22. This is sometimes a slow haul but when your photos are nicely thought out, it may be the origin of a continuing income. --My favourite is istockphotos--.

O Other areas where you are able to sell your photographic series?

23. Art displays are the ideal platform from wherever your imagination and work will probably be really appreciated because in these areas you will get some niche clients which have a sharp eye for actual talent. Such areas are proven to attract immediate fame.

24.

O Costs to be billed from the customers

25. At the first phases of your organization, do not attempt to charge exorbitant sums otherwise it'll give the incorrect impression and you'll possibly lose a precious long-term customer. Tread slowly. Ring other research and photographers. Five telephone calls must perform it.

Advertising Your photography company

26. You have to attempt to advertise your work at important areas. Pictures may also be printed on the net. Book over the net will boost customer enquiry. Do not forget to hunt for appropriate regional markets and find the snaps published in a local journal or paper and constantly exhibit your contact number carefully - consistently!

27. Placing and popularizing a company is a difficult call but should you embrace a correct marketing plan. Nowadays, Advertising is just one of the most well-known mediums of marketing. Advertising can be placed on sites, online phone directories, magazines and papers, etc.. Find out more about the ideal mediums until you rush into. Occasionally fantastic prices get in the method of recognizing the ideal advertising car.

28. You are able to create a site of your own to efficiently market your photography company but something that has to be considered is never neglect to add a testimonial segment and assess the reaction of the folks going to the site. Enable them to make remarks.

29. People interested in putting together a photography company can start their career by turning into a photo journalist. Appealing and unconventional photos can be provided to papers, magazines, sites and also the photography business is flourishing to this extent that international media organizations will provide you with great money in exchange for infrequent and high quality photos.

30. There are several more jobs also linked to photography than that there was formerly and as a result of the diversity and versatility of digital photography, even more respect was connected to the profession.

Proceed and make yourself a hot drink and a have a long think about where you are likely to begin, in other words, in case you have not already begun.

This guide has been provided courtesy of Roy Barker. Roy has provided further detail about the aforementioned subject matter at starting a photography company and is devoted to training you on how to begin your own photography business. You might even acquire photography tips, help (mainly free) or just a Digital Photography.

1 note · View note

chiimmchiimm · 5 years

Text

❝𝖒𝖔𝖓𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗 !¡ 𝒻𝑜𝓊𝓇 ❞

CHAPTERS “ 01 - 02 - 03 - 04 - 05 - 06 - 07 - 08 - 09 - 10 - 11 - 12 - 13 - 14 - 15 - 16 - 17 - 18 - 19 - 20 - 21 - 22 - 23 - 24 - 25 - 26 - 27 “

The northern jail was the most dangerous in the country, social scum, thousands of criminals were locked behind their bars. Who would tell poor Blair that he would end up there because of his father’s mistake. The problem was not the lack of hot water, but that inhuman obsession that many of the prisoners had for “new toys.” Rookies had two options; be submissive and abide by veterans’ orders or suffer the dangerous anger of those disturbed minds. It all started one night when Blair had the bad idea of going to shower alone.

𝒫𝒶𝒾𝓇𝒾𝓃𝑔: Jungkookoffender au x (female: Blair). 𝒢𝑒𝓃𝓇𝑒: smut.(later), offender au, fluff, angst. 𝒲𝑜𝓇𝒹𝓈: 4 k 𝑅𝒶𝓃𝓆𝓊𝒾𝓃𝑔: +18 𝒲𝒶𝓇𝓃𝒾𝓃𝑔: abuse,very violence, , sadness, psychological abuse, dirty lenjuage, half-naked, muscles.

𝓥𝓸𝓬𝓪𝓫𝓾𝓵𝓪𝓻𝔂: gongjunim❥princess.

Suddenly, the heaviness of his breathing stopped bouncing off the surface of my ear. Proof that he had taken a safe distance.

Small deaf sounds flood the awkward silence of the cell. I knew he was the cause but I still didn’t have enough courage to uncover my eyes. On the contrary, I took a step back as a precaution. As a result, my back hit the hardness of the door. A slightly deep and clearly mocking laugh came out of Thirteen.

“You better get out of there, you get in the way, little gongjunim.”

Who told me?

“What?” I asked, under a diction that showed how confused I was at his change of language. Put your eyebrows together. Uncover my hands to speak, however, the run over tone that I didn’t want to emit had been the protagonist in my language. In front of me there was a thirteen already dressed. He had previously placed a white shirt and the yellow jacket common to all. The fabric clung to the muscles of his arms like a second skin that, in comparison to my thin limbs, left much to be desired. As if it were a hobby of his, the sleeves had rolled up. The marked veins descended from his forearm to his narrow wrists. There was something about that boy that evoked me to detail it with curiosity. Maybe, because it probably is and will be the most ambiguous being I’ve ever met before.

“You have to stop looking at me like that or it may be that this gets a little out of control.” I utter between short but concise laughs, stating with a single gesture that I was caught looking at him. Snorting a half smile and showing his teeth a little in the process. Had noticed? And how not to do it, idiot, if it’s the only thing you’ve done since you’ve met him? But … What did he mean by saying “the thing is going to get a little out of control”? I have not understood your reference. Well, that is nothing new since it is hard for me to understand people. However, there is something that invites me to think that there is something else behind his white smile.

“Sorry.” I whispered intimidated by her dark gaze. I gasped an awkward smile after my apology. I interlocked my fingers in the area of my abdomen. I felt totally stupid for not knowing what to say. But the echo bothered me. My tongue was paralyzed for no known reason as if only its presence prevented me from acting accordingly.

“Thirteen.”

Drown a shout at the appearance of a figure behind me. I separated completely from the bars when they opened. And that was when I turned around. My eyes widened on their own when I recognized the redhead who had harassed me in the morning. I am so nervous that I take steps back without measuring the consequences. Because as soon as I take the sixth step my back crashes into a muscular surface. I startle turn. Thirteen looks at me from above. And I swallow without control because his gaze causes me so many nerves that I lose track of time.

“I see that you have kept your word, dear friend.” His voice is so perverse that my body turns alone. I squint my eyes with intrigue. The description I can give of your smile is simple, it is so big that it gives chills. When Thirteen tilts me to approach the redhead my nose inspires instinctively. A smell of caramel stuns me for a few seconds. It is such a sweet smell that it leaves me in a trance state because curious as that coincidence seemed, the taste of caramel was one of my favorites. Returning to reality. Thirteen and the redhead talked too close as if the subject of their conversation were private. Feeling out of place, I intend to leave there. But as they occupy the space of the door I find myself trapped. The redhead looks at me for a few seconds and then smiles and says something in Thirteen’s ear. Then he patted his arm and Thirteen looks at me. He sucks his cheek inward before his friend will speak to me. “So how much do you leave it to me?”

Thirteen crosses his arms while taking a deep breath. Bury it between the two men but the situation lacks sharpness and I can’t understand what is happening. And only then, when I perceive a black glow in the redhead’s eyes, is it when I can realize what is happening. Because when I brush my lip with a finger and his gaze sweeps my body I feel arcades so suffocating that my knees almost bend.

“Two thousand five hundred dollars.”

My eyes look at the guilty immediately. It can’t be … My mouth dries so fast. Ajar the lips suffocated. My head spins. My arms fall on each side of my body. Suddenly, I feel that my body weighs too much. That the pressure of my forehead has increased by the drops of sweat that have accumulated abruptly. Only the redhead’s outrage hits me in the temple. I get dizzy at his screams that he didn’t even hear because I run away as soon as he moves to claim the loudest. What the fuck just happened? My feet bounce against the metal of the stairs. He didn’t even take the precaution of grabbing the railing while under. All I care about is getting out of there. Get away from that maniacal redhead and especially him. Of the main culprit.

As soon as he crossed the humbral of module five, a hand catches my arm turning sharply.

“What the hell do you think you are doing?” I said in his aggressiveness that what he had just asked me was not a question but a warning. I take my hand to his to release me but all I get is that he pushes me towards the wall and looms over me. His dark hair covers his eyes. It seems agitated. More than annoying with my attitude. His chest goes up and down. And his breathing hits my face with such intensity that his breath mixes with mine. Then, he took the audacity to face him and look for his eyes between his disheveled bangs but I regret it as soon as his gaze pierces mine. I perceive so much coldness in his eyes that breathing gets stuck in my throat.

“No-o, what have you believed yourself?” I answer, overwhelmed by the lack of space. My hands push his chest. Barely a centimeter moves. His eyebrows frown. His lips clench when my hands hit him. Your discomfort increases over time. I get a little surprise when his brow wrinkles dissipate for a short period of time, but he quickly gathers it again. I turn my face when its closeness increases. Fear floods my senses and takes control of the trembling of my body.

“What did you say?” He whispers straight into my ear. I perceive so much threat in your question that my lips press between tremors. Your hot breath soaks the surface of my skin. His nose widens as his breathing level increases. Support your arm by dilating your muscles beside my head. Your veins welcome me presumptuously. My cheek melts into the wall to get as far away from my body as possible. I don’t even want to touch him. Through a hoarse laugh he bows again and disturbs my tranquility. “At what fucking moment have I asked for your opinion, bitch?”

My eyelids cover my eyes with repulsion. A lonely tear caresses my cheek when it falls from my eye. I feel so powerless. I am sure he knows that he has left me silent, that he has control of the situation and that I am afraid of him. So much so that the fact that he called me a whore forces my mouth to remain closed. The hand I had supported carries it to my jaw. His fingers hover, leaving some noticeable red marks drawn. My face turns so hard that I groan. My face has been crushed under his big hand. And for the second time, I do nothing.

“You’re worth nothing.” exhale with determination. “You’re just a whore who is going to fuck that guy because he owes me a favor.”

“I do not…”

Lower your hand to my throat and squeeze.

“What?” He places his ear near my mouth. Smile when I say nothing. Close your hand drowning. I stand on tiptoe and put my hands to his wrist. The view is clouded but I can see his sick expression. Opening his eyes, smiling as if from his aggression will bring inhuman satisfaction. I want to cough. Shout. Run. But his hand has me attached to the wall. My feet stop touching the ground when I slide up. “You’re lucky they don’t want marks because shit you win, I have to mark you to show you who’s boss.”

The air returns to my lungs when it releases me. I fall sharply to the ground. When I fall, my knees bounce and I groan among coughs impregnated with saliva. I hold my body with my hand and with the other I wrap my neck. Tears sprout from my eyes and my panting sobs are only the result that I need air. Dammit. He has treated me like his toy and I can’t even yell at him because my throat doesn’t allow it. I arrive a short look at his body. His satisfied expression bounces in my red and swollen eyes.

Suddenly, his hand encloses my arm and lifts me. His action is so rushed that my body leans against the wall so as not to fall.

“I’ve reached an agreement with him but he doesn’t have my money.” His finger sinks into my collarbone, throwing me against the wall. And even if the situation is not for relief, I recognize that a part of me feels calmer.

A sob escapes my lips. He pushed me away without measuring the consequences. When my knees stop shaking I try to get out of there, but his hand clings to my arm and pulls my body towards his again. Our torsos collide as a result of their sharp force. My eyes never stop looking at the floor at any time. I’m scared. Cold chills that accumulate excessively travel along my body. My arm bends instinctively. This time, and less badly, it does not exert so much pressure. As if the circulation of my fingers can run freely without pauses.

His lower lip is lodged in the area above my cheek, however, it is his hot breathing that moistens the area with confidence. Breathe in strongly inhaling my smell. Capture the essence of the coconut shampoo from my previous shower. He stands still as if the sudden change in aroma had hypnotized him. The eradication of my captor falls considerably. Then, he takes his hand away from my arm and I feel the reddened area in small massages.

“Can I go?” I ask, under a soft and submissive vibrato. My boldness, this time, has no negative repercussions. Thirteen smiles. He elevates his corners with satisfaction because he knows that I am asking for permission. In other words, I am accepting that you have me under your control. His hand takes my chin and lifts my head through a gentle movement. My eyes observe in the front row the masculine features of his profiled face. I find it hard to keep them open, they weigh and sting me.

When his breathing falls on my face, I close them instinctively.

“Now you are mine,” he confirmed, in a dominant tone. Ejecting confidence through his eyes as he inhaled a whisper over my cheek. “Yes, I trust your discretion.” No one can know. Just you and me. It will be our little secret, okay?

In a concise nod, accept your conditions. I opened my eyes only not to trip over my flight. As a precaution, I kept my speed down only until I was sure that I was not under his sinful gaze. I was not directed to my cell as surely that monster must have supposed. As soon as I opened the bathroom doors, I ran to one of the empty cubicles and went inside. I closed the door and supported my back. The tears did not wait and wet my cheeks as soon as I slid to the ground. I hid my head between my knees to calm the rumble of my sobs. I didn’t even care about the musty smell of the corners of the bathroom. Kick the ground helplessly. My throat was torn as a result of the deafening scream that my voice cried out. He had fallen very low. A disgustingly familiar sensation seized my sanity and I ended up rising from the ground. I left that place smelling of dirt to lean on a sink. What I visualized in the cracked mirror left me stone. Because I didn’t see myself with red cheeks and swollen eyes but my mother. And then, I realized that unwittingly I had become her.

By the time I entered my module the sobs had dissipated and my breathing calmed. I ignored the sexist comments of a couple of dams and climbed the stairs to head for my cell. The arms fell on each side of my body as if the movement of them would spend too much energy and I didn’t have enough. With the hump of my back protruding from my curved position between the cell.

“Take care, okay?” Dallas’s sweet voice overwhelms me so much that I stay on site. My eyes bump into a black leather suitcase. Frowning I follow the legs beside him, Sole is the owner. Forgetting the dry tears drawn by my cheeks I approach the two women with confusion.

“What is this? What happens?”

Sole releases Dallas’s hands to land in front of me.

“I’m leaving, my love,” he announces, through a melancholic tone. Filled with an ambiguous sadness that causes Dallas to smile faded. “They are going to transplant me a new heart.”

“That we are going to the hospital, Barbie.” - inspiring while stretching your arms lazily. Still without abandoning his decayed posture. I cover a gasp with my palm when I hear all the information together. A woman of her age should not worry about those things. She is such a shame … She is a great friend and of course, life has not been kind to her. I feel sad for two reasons. The first, that we leave the only friend I have had in this unpleasant adventure. And the second and not least, that these operations have their complications and I do not want any evil to happen.

Leaving aside his damn nickname towards me, I pick up Solé’s calloused hands between mine to give him my silent support.

“Lucy, why don’t you take my bag down?” I have to say something to Blair before I leave.

“Fuck.” He frowns. “Just because you’re you.”

Leaving aside the new data of the real name of Dallas. I wait patiently for Sole to start the conversation that judging her withdrawn attitude must be one quite seriously.

“Take care girl.”

He widened a small smile.

“I know, Solé.”

But my answer does not convince your old experience. He brings his hands to my cheeks and caresses them tenderly. I remain still before his maternal start, without knowing how to act. And I know, the remains of my cheeks have not been ignored by her. Who knows I’ve been crying and somehow, try to comfort me.

“Blair, honey …”

“Only …”

“Shut up girl, I’m talking.” Braying through an affectionate complaint. Despite my low level of well being a little laugh pierced my lips. “Don’t let anyone make you feel inferior.” Because when you give them that privilege you give them control of your life.

My eyes traveled by themselves to the side of the room. A wry smile hugged my lips as the previous scene began to roam my mind. I still remembered the pressure of his fingers closing on my neck. His eyes injected with fury. His pleasant expression as I snatched the air. For being subjected to a suffering of my own, I didn’t even realize that Sole had intertwined our hands. Providing a caress to my knuckles, she slowly let go of my arms, and then left the cell.

Embracing my own body to counteract the wet cold of mornings in the yard. I emitted a gasp as soon as the saliva slid down my throat. As I deduced, two large reddish marks and a few smaller ones had appeared on the skin of my neck. The pain was awful. Go down the tiny step that separated the pavilion from the track. He shouldn’t have gone out even though the demand was something he clearly needed urgently, since he would later regret it. The error was present when two men tilted my body, the problem was not those strangely familiar people, but the big back that did not take long to appear in front of me. The feet were nailed on the asphalt by instinct. Breathing increased significantly when recognizing that muscular body. Panic. Memories whipped my self-control. Anxiety clouded my eyes in quick tears.

Reversing to flee from there, I ended up bumping into someone. When I turned startled I found that guard I met the first day.

“Are you all right?” I ask through a careful tone. Paying primary attention to my trembling and the fearful opertura of my eyes. I gave a quick bow as an apology. My hurried gesture alarmed his suspicions more. Turn your neck to see how Thirteen and his friends sat in one of the stands. He had not seen me or had simply decided to ignore me. Which I appreciate. A soft caress transformed into a voice attracted me enough to return my attention to the boy in front of me. “Hey, is something wrong with you? All good?”

His curiosity was directed openly towards my interest in the three men at the back of the courtyard.

“Yes.” Speak abruptly. “All right.”

“Sure?” His distrust reigned in his narrowed gaze. I didn’t know very well what his interest was in knowing my good being, but such insistence increased the degree of my anxiety. Because every minute I spent here, in everyone’s view, increased the possibility that Thirteen would see me. And shit, I didn’t want that. “Has Jeon done anything to you?”

“Who?”

I wrinkled my nose. My dismissal caused him to sigh and close his eyes.

“Thirteen.” He pronounced slowly.

The blood left my face suddenly. The paleness that adorned my white reaction was the hint that I had hit the spot. Getting nervous I waved my hands to give up on that idea. What I needed to become a sneak. The man inclined his head with some curiosity. And then, I looked closely at its prominent features. Dark and thick eyebrows. Fine but appetizing lips. And expressive eyes that looked at mine bright by the accumulated humidity. He was taller than me, clearly taller than me. Slim, strong and muscular looking. On another occasion, I would have stayed to give him a conversation, but that would only have been before. Now, I was very screwed.

Trying to escape his questionable eyes, I tried to pass by his side but his hand stopped me by my forearm.

“Where are you going?” I whisper as he raises his incredulous eyebrows. Nervous, I turned my attention to its former owner. Seeing that he was not only looking at us, but also kept a cold expression. I despair. I shook my arm violently so he would let me escape. By God, I didn’t know where he was getting. He undid his grip slowly, however, he did not abandon his position. His dark orbs kept looking at us. Sweat bathed my forehead as a neutral smile pierced his lips, one that conveyed two things; that I was screwed and that later I would have reason not to keep breathing. I didn’t even realize that Garcia was also looking at the Asian. Only until Thirteen I greet him with a little wink that made him roll his eyes. “Cocoon …”

Taking advantage of his mistake he managed to return to the pavilion. However, an annoying scream stopped me.

“Hey!”

My eyes closed together with my fists. But unlike his high tone did not seem annoying, just a little stunned by my sudden escape. I waited patiently for him to say what he wanted to tell me, but all he did was show me a small, elongated object.

“You’ve fallen to the ground.” He extended his hand to offer me the fork. I instinctively touched my hair and yes, it was indeed mine. I nodded and accepted my object back. It seemed as if he wanted to tell me something else but did not have enough courage. His half-open mouth was the one yelling at me. Then, he relaxed his shoulders in a heavy sigh and curved his lips in an afflicted smile. “If you have any problems, please don’t shut up.” I can help you but only if you let me.

“Nothing happens to me.” I repeated, to the full. He had to snatch those ideas from his head or later regret it. The tension in his shoulders was reflected when he stretched his back. For my part, I was so tired and sleepy that I could barely make voluntary movements.

“Then why didn’t you stop looking at Jeon?”

Stupid.

“It catches my attention, that’s all.”

My answer did not seem to convince him but he said nothing about it.

“My turn in the library starts in five minutes, I have to go.”

“Now, hey, wait …”

But for the second time, I was running from an awkward situation.

The dim light in the library had healed my tired eyes. Medicine without a leaflet, perfect so that my pupils will not be punished by the scandalous light of the sun. He had had a deep talk with Mrs. Hero about the problems in the marriage. Of course, when I have no idea about the subject, I decided to nod until I gave up. Nor did she want to be rude to the old woman. Well, since I arrived here I had not done anything that I decided by my own voice. The movement up and down the stairs had left me ground, my muscles contracted and heavy. Without a doubt, it was not the best cure to make sudden movements if we consider that he had hardly slept three hours in a row. Therefore, when I uploaded the last batch of books to the kitchen shelf, Mrs. Hero gave me permission to go to rest. But how can I tell him that even though I was in my bed, lying down, with my head resting on the pillow that I couldn’t close my eyes for fear that scary images would shake me in dreams. Because for the first time in years, the protagonist of my nightmares was not my father but the cause of my bruises on my neck.

Dallas slept peacefully on her mattress and I, however, had half an hour watching as the metal spirals held the weight of the mattress above. I tried to close my eyes, let the fatigue win but reopened them without remedy. The next day the dark circles would reappear under my eyes if I couldn’t sleep, shit. When I try a second time to close my eyelids, it is nothing more than the screech of the door that forces me to open them again. Then, when giving me the support of my hands I get up and see it. The world falls to my feet.

“Come, let’s go for a walk, gongjunim.”

✞

#bts au fanfic #bts #bts jungkook #bt21net #bts scenarios #jungkook angst #jungkook au #jungkook smut #jeon jungkook #jungkook #bts jhope #bts icons #park jimin #fanfic

29 notes · View notes