#just more stupid things on my document that i drew and slapped on here even if it doesn't fit perfect w him

[nochangeintheplan]

[youreacowgirllikeme]

Serendipity

 

note: this story is inspired by how I, when I traveled to DC, picked up the wrong suitcase at the airport. I obviously didn’t meet Jake in the process, but it was still pretty memorable. (actually it was a fckn nightmare, but I can laugh about it now) anyway, here’s some nerdy Jake for you, enjoy :)

pairing: Jake Tapper x female Reader

words: 4.8 k

warnings: swearing, mild smut, questionable star wars references (blame my bf, those are his takes)

 

serendipity

/ˌsɛr(ə)nˈdɪpɪti/

noun

1. the occurrence and development of events by chance in a happy or beneficial way

 

“Cmon, open, you stupid thing.” You muttered, fumbling with the lock of your suitcase. You were supposed to be at the job interview in only three hours and you needed to get ready and change into professional attire soon. But said outfit was in your suitcase and the lock was obviously jammed.

Against your better judgement, you started rummaging through your small hotel room in search of something to break the lock with. The rational part of your brain knew that this wasn’t necessarily a good idea, but you were desperate. This job was the opportunity of a lifetime and you’d be damned if you turned up there looking anything but your best.

You finally found a small knife hidden in a drawer of the wardrobe. You didn’t even want to think about how it got there, but you couldn’t afford to be picky now. You tried sticking the blade between the two pieces of the lock, when you suddenly realized something. The luggage tag was dark green. This wasn’t your suitcase. Fuck.

You were on your feet in a second, taking your phone and calling the airport hotline. You needed this handled, fast. You described the situation in all its direness to a pretty unimpressed lady from the service hotline. She told you that there hasn’t been any luggage left behind that fit the description, which could only mean that whoever the owner of the suitcase in your hotel room was, they likely made the same mistake and took yours home with them. You mentally slapped yourself for buying that unremarkable black suitcase, thinking that should’ve gone for red or another flashy color instead.

“You still have to come back to the service terminal and hand over the luggage item you falsely took with you, ma’am.” The woman told you, still sounding terribly bored. Her job probably wasn’t the most exciting one.

“I’ll be there as soon as I can.”

You quickly hung up, grabbing the suitcase in question as well as your purse before sprinting out of the door.  You hailed the first cab you saw in front of your downtown DC hotel.

“To the airport and make it fast please.” You told the driver the second you got into the backseat, dumping the suitcase between your legs.

Lucky for you, traffic was flowing and the trip to the airport didn’t take too long, but you still checked the time every two seconds, your fingers thrumming nervously against the cab window.

Finally at the airport, you threw the money at the cab driver before jumping out of the car and running into the terminal, your eyes scanning the giant hall for the luggage service desk. The second you spotted it; you made your way over. Getting closer, you couldn’t ignore a deep, aggressive voice sounding over the usual buzz of the arrival hall.

“No, ma’am, no you listen to me now. This suitcase is of tremendous importance, the documents in there are incredibly valuable. I want it to be taken care of right now.”

The voice belonged to a man standing in front of the service counter, and judging by the way he was gesticulating, he was pretty angry. But what really drew your attention to the guy was what was next to him. Your suitcase. You ran towards it, dragging its identical twin behind you.

“Sir, excuse me, I think we both have something the other person could be interested in.” you panted, slightly breathless from running.

The man whirled around to face you, and for a moment you were totally struck by how handsome he was. He appeared to be several years older than you, but his grey hair, tall stature and commanding presence made for a really attractive appearance. Also, you couldn’t shake off the feeling that you had seen him before, but you couldn’t place him for the life of you. He looked at you for a brief moment before his eyes shot to the piece of luggage next to you.

“Oh, thank god.” He exclaimed, and almost yanked the suitcase out of your hands. "Next time, watch out whose luggage you’re taking.” He snapped. That’s rich, you thought, as if he hadn’t picked up the wrong one as well.

"Hey, no need to be rude.” You muttered, but he didn’t hear you, he was already back to talking the woman behind the service counter,hopefully explaining that everything was solved now and saving you some time. Your own suitcase was still standing next to the stranger, so you decided to just take it.

“You both still need to fill out this form, Ma’am, Sir.” The woman said, and both of you groaned but complied. After hastily scribbling down your details, you bid the lady goodbye and ran back to the cab rank.

The clock was ticking, you still had to get back to the city to make it to your interview in time. A quick look onto your watch confirmed your fears, it already was too late to go back to the hotel, you had to change in a restroom somewhere. You contemplated and decided to take a ride back into the city first and find an opportunity to change there before the commuters would block the freeway.

A cab was pulling up and you already made your way over when suddenly, the man who took your suitcase cut you in line and opened the door of the car. You were not having that, raising your voice to call him out.

“Hey, Mister, that was my cab. You better get in line.”

 “I’m in a hurry, I have to be on air in an hour.” He snapped back, but you were unimpressed.

 “You could be needed in the damn White House in an hour for all I care, I have a job interview, and this is my cab, so step back.” You were usually a patient person, but this guy has been testing you too much already. He raised his hands in a mock defensive gesture before speaking up again.

“Maybe we could split the cab. Where do you need to go?”

 “CNN headquarters.” You replied reluctantly, it wasn’t like where you were headed was any of this mans concern.

 “Interesting, that just happens to be my destination as well.” The stranger mused, now grinning at you. “So, how does splitting the cab sound?”

You begrudgingly agreed and sat down next to him in the backseat. As the engine started going, so did the wheels in your head. He had said that he had to be on air, and he needed to get to CNN as well. Oh…

 “What did you say your name was again?” you asked, nervousness now fairly evident in your voice.

 “It’s Jake. Tapper.” He said, mockingly extending his hand.

Well Shit. That’s why his face has been so oddly familiar.

You quickly introduced yourself as well, awkwardly shaking the offered hand.
“Sorry, I didn’t recognize you with those glasses.” You added meekly, feeling like dying of mortification. As it happened to be, the position you were aiming for was with the politics department of CNN, and while Tapper wasn’t your potential boss, he definitely was a big shot, being the lead Washington Anchor and everything. Great first impression.

“So, you said you have a job interview at CNN?” he asked, a hint of smugness in his voice. He could clearly sense your embarrassment. “Which department?”

 You were definitely blushing now. “Politics.”

"Oh, well best of luck then, hopefully we’ll be colleagues soon.” He said, and you couldn’t make out if he was being serious or just messing with you.

The rest of the ride was spent in silence, you checked the notes you prepared for the interview one last time and if the man next to you was aware of what you were doing, he didn’t care, eyes glued to the screen of his phone. His presence did nothing to calm your fluttering nerves, your leg was twitching like crazy, and he noticed.

“Settle down.” He said quietly without looking up from his phone. His deep voice had a soothing effect, calming you for a brief moment.

When the cab pulled up in front of the CNN building, Jake got out first and held the door for you. Your nervousness came rushing back with a vengeance as you laid eyes on the big red sign over the entrance.

“When you get in, it’s the first elevator on the right, 5th floor.” Jake said, giving you a sharp nod before disappearing into the crowd filtering in and out of the huge glass doors. He could’ve at least said goodbye, you thought.

You quickly made your way inside, there was only half an hour remaining and you still had to find a spot to change, preferably one with a mirror because you certainly looked wild after all that running around. Luckily, there was a spacious restroom right next to the elevator and after you put on your work attire and a bit of makeup, you felt slightly better equipped for the task ahead of you.

+++

 The interview went incredibly well, so well that you did a little happy dance on your way back to the elevator, the relief and hope for getting the job putting a pep in your step.

You rode back down to the lobby, where you decided to treat yourself with a nice caramel Frappuccino from the coffee cart. You were just about to get your purse out to pay when a familiar voice called out from behind you.

“Here, let me get this. And a black coffee please.”

Jake Tapper stepped up beside you and put the required money on the counter. He looked like he had just come off air, there was still a smudge of studio makeup on the collar of his dress shirt, and his hair was meticulously styled.

Again, his presence was slightly unsettling to you, even more so with him being in his anchor attire. Before you could reply anything, he grabbed your cup, which was almost overflowing with whipped cream and syrup, from the barista and handed it to you with a slightly disgusted expression on his face. “I wanted to pay for this atrocity of a beverage to make up for my rude behavior earlier, but now I’m doubtful if I’m really doing you a favor.”

“To be quite honest, I pity you for drinking black coffee while I can enjoy this.” You replied, taking a deep sip of the drink, sighting as its delicious sweetness covered your tongue. “But thank you.” You added. “Everything is forgiven, you were just as stressed out as I was.”

Jake watched you with an unreadable expression for a moment before he opened his mouth again. “Still, my apologies. The documents in the suitcase were of a very delicate nature, a source gave them to me, they could’ve caused quite some trouble in the wrong hands.” He paused for a moment, as if he was thinking of how to continue.

“Anyway, how did the interview go?” he asked, his voice bare of any teasing now.

“It went pretty well, I’d say. They told me I’m going to hear from them in about a week, which is good, that way I’d still have another three weeks to pack up my life in Phoenix and move here should they offer me the position.”

“Phoenix, huh.” Jake remarked, taking a sip from his own coffee. “That’s a long way. What made you decide to apply for a job that would require you to move all across the country?”

 

“Phoenix is great, but its Phoenix, you know. Things are different down there, slow-paced, you always feel like you’ll never be on the frontline, especially when it comes to covering politics. And DC is where the magic happens, so it was the only logical choice for me.” You replied.

 “Well, I can’t argue with that. But make sure you’ll bring a coat with you should you get the job, compared to Phoenix, DC is artic.” Jake noted, the glint of humor making his eyes appear warm and open. He really looked handsome when he smiled, you noticed, there were little wrinkles around his eyes and his teeth were perfectly straight and white.

 “I’ll keep that in mind, but I’m sure I’ll find something to keep myself warm once I’m here.” You said, looking directly at him. Somehow, this man brought out your flirtatious side.

He chuckled again, a low and pleasant sound. It sounded downright sexy, and you could feel a small shiver going down your spine. He and reached into the pocket of his suit jacket, retrieving a pen. He scribbled something onto one of the paper napkins that had come with your coffee order and handed it to you.

 “If you get the job, just contact me and I’ll make sure you have every amenity you need to properly settle in.” he said, and by now he was blatantly flirting with you, something you did not mind at all.

 “I’ll be sure to stay in touch, Mr. Tapper.” You spoke. “But I have to run now. Thanks for the drink.”

 “Goodbye, Ms. Y/L/N. I’m looking forward to giving you the grand tour on your first day here. And it’s Jake, please.”

 +++

 You got the job. The next weeks were a blur of goodbyes, moving boxes and apartment hunting. You barely had a moment to breathe, and it was only when you packed your final stuff into your black suitcase that you remembered Jake Tapper, and that you were supposed to contact him. You had kept the napkin with his number in your purse, and when you fished it out and dialed, your heart sped up, fluttering like a bird inside your chest.

You hung up before even hearing the first ring. What you were trying to achieve with this call? He had been clearly flirting with you back in DC, and now you were about to start working for the network he basically was the face of. And yes, he was funny and attractive, but getting tangled up with the big star before you even got a foot in the door there didn’t sound like the best idea.

You decided to let it slide. Your career came first now, you had worked too hard to let a fling get in the way of that.

 +++

 The first day was a crazy whirlwind of impressions and faces, and when you finally settled into your little secluded work booth, you felt a tad overwhelmed by all the input. You were about to set up a little framed picture of your parents, when you felt someone approaching your desk. Before you could turn around, a coffee cup was placed in front of you, filled to the brim with whipped cream and all kinds of toppings and syrup.

“I didn’t remember your exact order, so I just requested the one that looked the most repugnant.” A deep voice said from behind you, and your heart started beating faster. It was Jake Tapper. “You didn’t call.” He stated. “I had to find out through the grapevine that you got the position.”

 “Thank you for the coffee, this actually looks perfect. And I’m really sorry for not calling, the last weeks have been crazy, I just forgot.” You lied, trying to look as apologetic as possible.

 He leaned onto the edge of your desk, his arm crossed in front of his chest. He looked really good, still in his casual clothes, his hair falling into his face. His dark eyes were fixed on you, and the look he was giving you was so intense that you felt your palms starting to get sweaty. You felt your resolve not to get involved with him crumble more with every minute in his presence.

 “No offense taken.” He said, and the timbre of his voice made goosebumps break out on your arms. “Unfortunately, it’s already too late for me to give you the office tour. But let me make it up to you. Drinks, tonight after work?”

You decided to have some of fun with him, he was acting a bit too self-assured for your liking. You stretched your arms out above your head and let out a yawn. “Today was so busy, I just need to go home and get some sleep. But how about you ask me later again that week, maybe I’ll be free then.”

 For a brief moment, Jakes eyes were transfixed on your thin blouse stretching over your chest, just like you intended. There was a voice in the back of your head, screaming at you to stop acting stupid and turn the man down. But you ignored it, he was too intriguing, too alluring to just send him away.

Jakes eyes snapped back to your face.

“I’m sure we can find another day. I’ll just visit you again.” He said, giving you another intense look.

“Sounds good for me. I have to finish unpacking everything now, but thanks again for the coffee.” You smiled cheekily, scooping up a dollop of whipped cream with your finger and sticking it into your mouth.

 There was just the smallest hitch in Jakes breath, but you noticed. Strike, you thought gleefully. “I’ll see you around then.” He said, his voice slightly stained, before he disappeared in a hurry.

 You leaned back into your chair with a smug grin, taking a deep sip of your hot beverage. That went surprisingly well. You pushed the nagging thought that getting into something with him was not a good idea aside. A couple of drinks wouldn’t hurt.

 +++

You felt a small sense of triumph when Jake already returned the next day.

“For a man who claimed to be so busy back at the airport, you certainly have a lot of free time to visit me.” You greeted him with a cheeky grin.

“I was on this floor, so I thought I’d stop by to say Hi.” Jake said. He was wearing his glasses today and it was doing crazy things to your body. You weren’t sure if you could reject another invitation, but still decided to play it cool.

 “Well, lucky me, I guess. Hi. No coffee today?” you asked, giving him a little fake pout.

 “I see, I already spoiled you.” Jake chuckled, but his eyes were affectionate.

 “You could make it up to me, though, maybe by buying me a drink tonight after work?” The smile that flashed over Jakes face made you forget any regret you might have felt about giving in so soon. Being the reason he smiled like that felt really good.

“It would be my pleasure. I’ll be on air until five, so I pick you up here at six?”

“So you’re just assuming that I’m going to work overtime?“

 “It’s your first week on the job, of course you work overtime.” Jake shot back, grinning.

He was right, of course, you still had to learn your way around the department, so you decided to stay an hour longer each day to get the hang on everything.

 “Just be here at six, smart arse.” You joked, and instantly regretted it, afraid you were being overly comfortable with Jake. But he just winked at you and walked away, a slight spring in his step.

 +++

 Jake was punctual, picking you up from your booth at six sharps. He was acting like a real gentleman, holding the door to the office, the cab and the bar he picked out, a cozy place in downtown DC, away from Capitol Hill and the possibility of running into someone familiar.

 The black suit he was wearing and the martini he had ordered gave Jake a very James-Bond-like look that you enjoyed immensely. You made a terrible “shaken, not stirred” joke that, miraculously, still made him laugh. Conversation was surprisingly easy, Jake could contribute something to basically any topic you broached. His vast knowledge of…well, everything was simultaneously sexy and intimidating, something that could be applied to his whole persona.

 It wasn’t like he was a completely different person than on his show, his sharp observations and cutting sarcasm were still very much there, making you a bit hesitant to voice all your opinions freely. But there also was a lighter side to him that didn’t appear on television. For example, he was a huge nerd. You just uttered “Star Wars” a single time and spent the next twenty minutes listening to his detailed ranking of the entire movie franchise. At first, you were just feigning interest, but he was so passionate about the topic that you couldn’t help but get interested. When you confessed that you had never seen a Star Wars movie before, Jake wasn’t having it.

“Ok, this can’t stand. Friday, my place, were watching Star Wars. I can’t let you run around that uneducated.” He replied, and your heart took up pace like a racehorse. Going to his place was a huge step after just one date and really knowing each other for only three days. But as much as you wanted to decline, you wanted nothing more than to spend some more time with this man, against all reservations you had.

 “I have a master’s degree from Brown, don’t call me uneducated.” you said, reaching out to playfully slap his arm. But he caught your wrist mid-air, making blood rush to your face because of the grip of his fingers against your skin.

 “Careful, Y/N.” he murmured. Why was his voice suddenly so deep and sensual? Your eyes met, and for a second, the air was buzzing between the two of you. Then Jake let go of your hand, and the moment was over. But you could still feel a lingering prickle at where his skin had touched yours.

 “So, what do you say?” He asked, his voice back to its normal tone. You had to decide quickly, not about watching Star Wars but about what kind of message to send to Jake. Coming over to his place was a risk, were you ready to take it?

He looked at you, waiting for you to say something, and his eyes were so damn hopeful.

“Sure, why not. But there better be snacks.” You replied. Here goes nothing.

  +++

It was Friday, and you stood in front of Jake Tappers apartment door, a bottle of wine clutched in your sweaty hand. You weren’t sure what one was supposed to bring for a Star Wars movie night, so you decided on a white wine you liked to buy for yourself.

 A moment after you rung the doorbell, Jake was already there, almost as if he had been waiting behind the door. You smiled at him, presenting the bottle.

“I hope you like white wine.” you said. Wow, what a lamer starter, you thought. But Jake graciously took the bottle and stepped aside to let you enter the apartment.

“I love white wine, thank you very much.” He said, sounding genuine.

 His flat was nice, clean and surprisingly void of clutter. You had never been to his office but back at the bar he had talked about collecting a lot of historical stuff back, he obviously kept all of that at work. There was a nice, comfortable looking sofa, but it was the table in front of you that made your eyes light up.

 “Oh my god, Jake, this is snack heaven! You really outdid yourself.” You exclaimed, beaming at him. There were chips, dips, popcorn, chocolate covered pretzels and even jellybeans.

 “You said you wanted snacks.” Jake said, matter-of-factly and you took a moment to really look at him. He was dressed casually today, wearing a grey jumper that looked incredibly soft, and jeans. Overall, he looked fantastic, and you could feel your heart starting to beat faster when you were thinking about sitting close to him on the sofa.

 “How about you make yourself comfortable, I’m going to pour us some wine and then we can get started.” Jake said, disappearing into the kitchen. You sat down on the sofa, it was really cozy. You had to keep yourself from snuggling back into the cushions, reminding yourself that you were not at home here and this was still very much Jake Tappers apartment. A moment later, the man himself came back, carrying two glasses of wine that he put down in front of you on a small spot of the table that wasn’t occupied by snacks.

He sat down next to you, keeping a respectful distance.

 “So, we are going to start with the fourth movie, which is actually the first movie that was filmed back in 1978, they made three prequels later but nobody that considers themself a true Star Wars fan would introduce someone to the franchise by watching part one.” Jake explained. Seeing him so passionate about this was really endearing, even if you weren’t a hundred percent sure what he was talking about.

“You have my complete and total trust in this matter, I am here to learn.” You joked, and Jakes responding chuckle made warmth bloom in your belly.

The movie was really good, you were intrigued by the characters and the storyline, but what was even better was watching the film with Jake. Some people were annoyed by others talking during a movie, but you enjoyed the occasional fun fact immensely, and Jake was a walking encyclopedia of Star Wars trivia.

“Did you know that the guy who did Darth Vader’s voice and the actor who played him never actually met?”

 “During the trash compactor scene, Mark Hamill held his breath for so long that a blood vessel in his face popped, that’s why they only took shots from one side, pay attention to it and you will notice.”

You quietly munched your popcorn while he was talking, watching him with keen interest bothering on fascination. Star Wars fan Jake was glorious in his nerdiness. How was this the same man that was ripping apart politicians every day on television and had snapped at you at the airport?

 “I’m sure someone told you this before, but you a such a nerd.” You grinned, playfully throwing a piece of popcorn at him.

 “I consider myself the nerd king.” He declared, voice so deadly serious that you couldn’t stop yourself from bursting out laughing. Jake turned around to look at you. Why was his face so mesmerizing? And why was he suddenly sitting so close to you?

“Your laugh is beautiful.” He said quietly. And then he was kissing you. Your brain tried to catch up and make sense of the sudden new development, but Jakes lips were too soft and his hand on your tight to warm and heavy for you to focus on anything else. You responded enthusiastically, tilting your head to deepen the kiss and wrapping your arms around his neck. His tongue slid across your bottom lip, teasing you until you opened your mouth.

 His hands were on your hips now, pulling you closer until you were sitting on his lap. He leaned into the back of the sofa and slid his palms down your sides until they settled on your ass. You started to softly grind your hips into his and your body went into overdrive as you felt the evidence of how much he was enjoying the kiss pressed against your core through your jeans.

“Jake.” You moaned against his mouth. “What about the movie?”

 “Fuck the movie.” He whispered, attacking your lips again, his hands squeezing your ass.

Breaking the kiss, you brought some distance between your faces to look at him with mock indignation.

“Don’t let your nerd friends hear that.”

 “My nerd friends would tell me to shut up about Star Wars when a woman like you is sitting on my lap.” Jake responded with a smirk, and you couldn’t argue with that.

He kissed you again, and needless to say, you didn’t finish the movie.

Jake took you to his bed instead, slowly undressing you, kissing and touching every inch of your skin he could reach in the process. He slid between your legs, entering you in one fluid motion and your hands stayed tangled in his hair as you moved against each other. His eyes never left yours, and from the way he looked at you, you knew that this was something real. When you hit your peak, your guttural cry of Jakes name was all it took for him to follow you over the edge.

Afterwards, you snuggled up against him and silently thanked the fates that you had picked up that wrong suitcase.

(about 6 months later)

 

“I can’t believe ours really are the last ones.” You groaned, leaning onto Jake while stifling a yawn. “I just want to go home.”

 “You slept the whole flight, Y/N, and I’m sure the luggage will be here any moment. Patience, love.” Jake replied, sounding rather tired himself.

You had just arrived from Barbados, your first holiday together. It had been amazing, nothing but eating, swimming and relaxing for two weeks. But it was the middle of the night now, and you had already been waiting at the baggage claim for thirty minutes.

 “Just stay here and let me lean on you and I’ll be fine. You have to watch me anyway, not that some grumpy, hot stranger mistakes my luggage for his and I meet him at the service desk and fall irrevocably in love with him because of that.” You said, letting out a soft chuckle.

Jake just wrapped his arm around you, pulling you tightly against his chest.

 “That’s why I got you that nice red suitcase for your birthday, can’t let that happen again.”

[mcwriting]

The Marriage Project (2)

part 2 is already here! fun fact, I’ve actually written like 16 chapters and I probs won’t always be posting weekly but I really wanted to put out part 2 sooooo... yeah. The Tom Holland x reader high school AU continues

Story Masterlist

Warnings: mild language

Word Count: 2365 (shorter than before, I know)

% approximately 1st week of September %

The next week had been relatively uneventful. Mrs. Flynn gave you both an A on your budget for the first week.

She also drew the next weekly condition, which for you was a $300 doctor’s visit of one family member.

“Well that’s stupid. If this were real life, we wouldn’t even need to take our kids to the doctor as PA’s,” Tom argued.

“First off, it’s not real life, and secondly, what if the kid broke a bone? Who’s gonna cast it, genius?”

“Well we probably wouldn’t have to pay,” he grumbled

When Friday afternoon hit, you were almost disappointed to see Tom not in the stands for your game, but remembered that the team had to start all their pregame rituals a couple hours before kickoff.

After crushing the competition, you took a quick shower and put on the shirt every senior was supposed to wear and walked to the field, where some of your friends had already claimed a spot on the bleachers. 

It was still a half hour before kickoff, so you talked as they helped put paint streaks on your cheeks and tie ribbons in your hair to show school spirit. You also watched the boys run drills until they were called to the sidelines for the national anthem. 

The team captains met for the coin toss, and as Tom and his co captain headed back to the team huddle, Tom spotted you in the crowd and pointed directly at you.

You didn’t know what he was doing so you quickly flipped him off and went back to your conversation.

They ended up winning the game by a field goal, and true to his word, Tom had actually played pretty well, aside from getting sacked towards the end of the game. 

You and the girls, not yet wanting to go home, hung out in the parking lot as families left.

“Hey, look. It’s your husband,” Alexis pointed out as Tom and a couple other players came limping down the lot with bags in tow. They were still wearing their football pants but had removed their jerseys, leaving on sleeveless compression shirts.

“Ugh. Don’t remind me. But I will say, his mom already loves me. We’re on a first name basis.”

She gave you a little low-five out of pride.

You couldn’t help but notice Tom pull the necklace out from under his shirt’s collar, the ring still attached.

Did he wear that the whole game?

He spotted you from a few yards away and yelled out,

“Hey hey hey. What did I tell you? Swooning yet?” he held his arms out as if to show he was right.

“Not quite, bub. But I’ll give you that touchdown pass. Don’t forget we have to work on the budget tomorrow!”

“Yeah yeah, see you then, princess.” He waved a hand as he continued on to his car.

Ugh. Princess.

Tom had been calling you that ever since the time freshman year you were the leading princess in a school play. 

You had hated the role for many reasons. 

For one, the character had no development and was basically dumb and defenseless (aka the exact opposite of you and everything you stood for). On top of that, the costumes were hideous, and what should have been a couple of pretty ballgowns and flowing skirts ended up being completely unflattering in color, shape, and style.

Everyone knew you hated it, and Tom loved to rub that in your face.

Eventually, you decided to retire home for the night since you had had such a taxing day.

%

You rang the Holland’s doorbell again, and this time it was opened by Tom’s youngest brother, Paddy. He was in the 5th grade, so you didn’t know him well. 

A perfect opportunity to make a good impression.

“Hey there, Paddy. Is Tom around? We’re supposed to work on our project today.”

“I’m not sure where he is, but I’m sure I can find him. Come on in.”

“Oh thank you. So polite.”

He sheepishly looked down as his face reddened. 

“I’ll be right back.”

He ran to the stairs and disappeared up them. A few minutes later an exhausted looking Tom appeared at the top of the stairs next to his brother.

“Come on up, I need to take a piss before we get started.” he called down, ever the charmer. He rubbed his eyes. He was only wearing a pair of sweats.

You followed his word and sat down on his bedroom floor, pulling up the documents on your computer as you waited. He came back wearing a shirt, a mug of coffee in hand.

“Want some? I made it fresh. I just woke up if you couldn’t tell.”

“No thanks. I don’t drink coffee, I find it disgusting. Caffeine addiction’s bad for you anyways.”

He looked down at the drink and back at you.

“Well we can’t all be perfect little princesses.”

You wanted to slap him, but just fired back with an insult and got to work. There wasn’t as much to do today other than reallocate the funds for the appointment and make up a story of what could have happened.

You both laid on your stomachs looking at the screen. As you typed, you heard heavy breathing and glanced over to see Tom had fallen back asleep.

Wow. He almost looks nice when he’s sleeping. What a disappointment.

You finished your paragraph and shook him awake.

“Ugh. sorry. I told you I’m a mess after game days.”

He went to push up to a sitting position when he winced, inhaling sharply. He put his head back on the ground.

“Woah there. Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just pulled a muscle in my back last night. I think it’s from that sack.”

“Do you need me to get you something? LIke icy hot or some advil? I carry both at all times.”

“Icy hot would be perfect. I already took some painkillers.”

You shifted up and grabbed your backpack, pulling out the tube. You tossed it next to him to use.

“I hate to ask this, because you’re you, but could you put it on for me? I don’t think I can reach.”

You hesitated, but agreed since you knew what it felt like to be in pain like that. 

“Okay. Give me a general idea of where it is and I’ll poke around to find it.”

“Just under my shoulder blades on the right.”

He pulled up his shirt and you went to touch his back lightly. He flinched when your fingers graced his skin.

“Oh yeah, my hands are cold by the way.”

“No shit.”

You put your hand back, pressing lightly until he winced again, then you put a small amount of the ointment on your hand, massaging it in.

 You rhythmically rubbed your hand over the area in little circles, trying to loosen the tight muscle with your palm. You didn’t think much about it until he let out a moan, and you pulled your hand back like he was on fire.

“Oh my God I’m so sorry. It just felt so good on that spot and it just slipped out-”

“Let’s just agree to never mention this again. I’m gonna go wash my hands. And hopefully my brain while I’m at it. Where’s your bathroom?”

“Just across the hall. Can’t miss it.”

A little bit later and you were finally done for the day, so you helped Tom up and again packed your things.

“Sorry again about earlier. Thanks, though. It really helped.”

“Like I said, we don’t need to talk about it. Just never make that sound again, please. See you Monday.”

And with that you were out the door.

%

Another week, and Mrs. Flynn gave you another A and a budget condition.

Both you and Tom again won at your respective sporting events, and you again went to Tom’s.

Throughout the week, you and Tom had been on your usual game, firing shots. But at home it was like he was a different person. Sure you still jabbed at each other occasionally, but there was a more friendly aspect to it this week.

You were sitting on the floor when you felt a familiar pain in your lower abdomen.

You ignored it for a minute, but then it hit twice as strong. Immediately you shot up.

“I'm going to the bathroom,” you stated, speaking quickly.

“Uh. Okay?”

You rushed in and as you sat down pulled up your period tracker app. 

You weren’t supposed to start for 4 more days.

Well that’s a lie you thought as you caught a streak of red upon wiping.

You dug through the under-sink cabinet, hoping and praying to find something, anything you could use. When that came up dry, you just stuffed up some toilet paper and resigned to getting a tampon from your backpack.

A sense of panic filled your chest, however, when you realized the little bag you kept with extra supplies was nowhere to be found. That’s when you remembered that you had taken it out to replenish and apparently never put it back.

“Oh no. Oh no no no!”

There wasn’t even a single liner at the bottom of the bag.

“What’s got you in a tiff, princess? Don’t we have everything we need already?”

You sighed. You weren’t one to announce when you were on your period, since guys liked to believe that all women become bitches when they bleed. But you were desperate.

“Look, I know you’re gonna make fun of me, but I just started my period and don’t have anything to deal with it and I don’t know what to do.”

“Can’t you just hold it?”

“Ha ha good one. Seriously though I don’t know what I’m gonna do. If I don’t figure out something fast, I’ll bleed through my pants.”

Tom looked at you confused.

“Wait a second,” you started. “You weren’t serious right then, right? Like you do know it’s something women can’t control?”

“WHAT?” he exclaimed. “You can’t?”

“You know, for someone who calls himself so smart you sure are a dumbass. How do you know nothing about periods? You play football, haven’t you had a girlfriend before?”

He got quiet.

“No. I’m too busy competing with you that when I do get free time, everyone gets really intimidated by you.”

“Oh... “ you didn’t know what to say, but then a cramp hit you like a ton of bricks and you doubled over. “Ugh. could you just go get your mom? I need to go back to the bathroom and try not to throw up.”

Eventually, Nikki came and left some midol, tampons, and a heating pad for you and you were able to go back to Tom’s room, finding him leaning against his bed. He sat up straight when you walked in.

“Are- are you okay? You seemed to be in a lot of pain earlier.”

You plugged in the heating pad and turned it on, laying down on your back so you could drape it across your stomach. The midol hadn’t yet kicked in.

“Yeah, I’m good. It was early this month and I just wasn’t prepared,” you said staring at the ceiling, but turned your head to look at him. 

“Sorry if what I said was insensitive. I just figured you knew more about it than the average guy and I was so panicked that I wasn’t thinking straight. I’ve never had a boyfriend either. Same situation.”

“Hah, nerd.” 

You rolled your eyes and threw a nearby pillow at him. 

“Like you have room to talk. Now let’s just finish this so I can go home and take a nap.”

%

When you got to home ec Monday, you hadn’t spoken to Tom since leaving his house Saturday. Frankly, you were embarrassed about the situation still and figured he felt awkward too. 

Then, of course, you learned that Mrs. Flynn had decided to throw the class a curveball to tie the marriage project into regular class assignments.

For a unit on sewing, she was making each couple work together to make a small “marriage quilt” approximately the size of a baby blanket. Partners would have to work together to choose the colors, make a design, and sew it together within 2 weeks in class.

So there you were, sitting in the back corner of the room discussing design options and drawing up a pattern with Tom.

Upon realizing you both loved blue, you decided to make a blue based quilt. There would be little teal and pink accents as well in a couple of the fabrics you chose.

You sat in silence as you both cut small squares of fabric and batting. Other groups were talking, but things still felt heavy.

“Hey, uh. About Saturday…” Tom began quietly from the right of you.

“Please don’t bring it up. Everything turned out fine so let’s just keep it that way. I don’t need you to embarrass me more.”

“No, it’s not that. I just… what you said got me thinking. I know about all kinds of stuff and I’d like to go into medicine one day, but I know nothing about women’s health. So, I spent a good portion of yesterday researching and honestly, I had no idea how much you all go through. We may hate each other, but I respect you a lot more than before.”

“Oh. Wow. You know, I’m sure you read about it yesterday, but it’s super different for everyone. I wouldn’t even consider mine nearly as bad to some peoples’. But that’s really nice of you. And just because we hate each other doesn’t mean I won’t offer to let you ask me questions whenever. Education is way more important than any rivalry.” 

He smiled slightly and looked down at his desk, then back up, putting out his left fist. 

“Is a fist bump a good enough agreement to let each other ask any kinds of questions like that, no malice intended?” he asked.

You smiled back and hit your right fist to his left one. Eventually you went back to your normal arguing, but you couldn’t stop replaying the scene in your head.

%

A/N: thanks for reading guys! I’m so so busy with school right now that it’s going to be hard to release chapters weekly but I am trying to keep a somewhat regular upload schedule! I’ve written about 16 chapters so I have a lot of content to share already and there’s still more before I finish. As always, I can’t reply to post replies but my messages and asks are always open! 

Tag List: @jackiehollanderr, @one-big-fangirl, @l0lmk, @primadonnasdream, @bookworm06

[bizmuth101]

Dirty Talk- Keigo Takami 

Kinktober Day 29

X Female 

“Hey! Come on! Lighten up a bit would ya?” The voice of the all too familiar blonde sounded behind you. You were just trying to work, couldn’t he see that? There was a lot of paperwork that needed to be done when you were assisting in a large agency like Endeavors. 

You were one of many of his personal assistance, helping to arrange press meetings and organize important post-mission documents for the current number one hero. However, with that came the annoying blonde number 2, Hawks. If you were being completely honest, the man got on your nerves to no end. He was loud and clingy and horrible in an office space, he was outgoing and stubborn, and lazy… there was seemingly no end to the amount of pet-peeves he crossed off your list and now here he was, interrupting your work and making everyone on your third floor office space stare. 

“Would you get off my back already? For the hundredth time, no, I will not go drinking with you.” You grumbled, clutching a small stack of papers to your chest as you walked toward the elevator. “No, I am very busy so if you would kindly leave so that everyone can properly focus on their work?”

“Awe, come on, that’s no way to be. Come out and have a little fun! You’re always so uptight, you need to loosen up a bit, (y/n).” He smirked and leaned against the wall beside you so he could look at you. 

“What will it take for you to leave me alone? It’s only two o’clock and you’re being a very big disturbance.” You shook your head, not seeming all that impressed by the man currently hounding you for drinks. 

“You know what it will take. Come on…” he pleaded, “one night wont hurt that bad will it? And if you don’t like it that’s that and I’ll back off and leave you be. Just come get drinks with me this one time. It’s the weekend tonight anyhow, nothing to lose.” He gave a cheerful grin and you tapped your foot as you waited on the elevator that seemed to be taking its sweet time. 

“You’ll leave me alone?” You looked up at the other out of the corner of your eye, a lazy and cheery smile plastered over his features that made you want to slap him where he stood. 

“One night.” He nodded and smirked slightly, seeming hopeful. 

“You wont try to ask me out again? Ever?” You raised a curious brow. That deal was seeming pretty tempting right now. 

“Never again, so long as you don’t like it. But I’m sure I can manage to make you enjoy yourself.” You scoffed at his words and rolled your eyes again, quickly stepping into the overly crowded elevator, leaving no space for the winged hero. 

“One night, that’s it. I’ll meet you out front at seven, we’ll go for drinks, and then you won’t talk to me again. Got it?” You spat out with a small glare up at the other who seemed like an excited puppy, nodding his head and shooting a set of finger guns your way. 

“Seven o’clock. Got it. See ya then sweetcheeks.” 

“Don’t call me that.” You grumbled as the doors closed and you were finally left in peace. 

The rest of the day went by much faster than you would’ve liked, the other girls on your floor seemed to have heard about your little ‘date’ with Hawks, the office gossip spreading like wildfire. 

“It’s not a date. I’m only going out with him to get him off my back. He’s such an annoyance.” You clicked your tongue at one of your friends from the office who seemed all too excited to dub your outing a date and pair you with the blond hero. 

“Not a date my ass! He’s so into you!” 

“Yeah, I got that part. And I’m so not into him.” You shook your head slowly taking in a deep breath of the smoke from your cigarette. 

“Yeah right. Have you even seen him? You’re going out on a date with the number two pro hero, he’s totally into you, and you don’t even wantI to!” Her voice seemed damn-near offended by your statement and you simply shrugged. 

“He’s just so immature, and lazy. I don’t wanna date someone so entitled.” You shook your head slightly, flicking the ash from the end of your cigarette and taking another long puff before pressing the end to the ashes of a bowl on the terrace. 

“Imatture maybe, but famous, and hot, and rich. How can you turn that down?” She smirked and leaned back against the railing with a sigh. 

“Ugh, cause those things are stupid and pointless. He’s just like all the other hundreds of heroes there are at this point.” You scoffed and put your pack and lighter away before turning back to head inside. “I’m only doing this to get rid of him.” You restated once more as the glass door bumped shut behind you and you sighed slowly. 

The rest of the day you spent at your desk, avoiding the whispers and the questions as time for you to get off work drew closer. You clocked out as soon as your shift was done with and started home for a hot shower before you met up with hawks. 

Your house wasn’t much of a walk from the agency, a simple apartment only a couple blocks away. As soon as you stepped inside you were greeted by the soft purring of a small white cat, bright blue eyes staring up at you as you leaned down to pet her for a moment. 

“Hey there, cotton.” You hummed out slowly as you stretched your arms up above your head and started back toward your bathroom, stripping down and taking your sweet time under the water. When you were done, your usual tight pony tail removed and your hair dried, hair billowing out down around your shoulders and back, you put on a light face of makeup, nothing serious, just some lipgloss and some light mascara, never really one for makeup, and you started back to your room to get dressed. 

You blinked for a moment passing a clock that dubbed it was already a little past six and you grumbled slightly as you got changed into a simple pair of comfortable underwear and you tugged on some skinny jeans that fit your form well, a pair of knee high black boots and a black shirt, a halter top that cut down in the back and just barely went to your jeans but suited your figure well and didn’t require you wear a bra needlessly. 

By the time that you were finished the time was switching over toward the six-fortyfive mark and you grumbled once more. You honestly didn’t want to go, but it meant that the hero would finally leave you alone and let you be. You could deal with one night for that, right? 

You tucked your phone and wallet into your back pocket, your key slipping securely into your boot so you wouldn’t lose it, and you said a quick goodbye to your cat before locking the door behind you and heading back to the agency. 

You arrived just as the clock flipped over to seven and you found yourself looking up to see Hawks already waiting there, sitting on an empty bike rack and swinging his legs patiently. 

With his hero costume shed you had to admit that the male was at the very least very attractive. He seemed to be patiently waiting for you and as soon as his eyes found you he smiled slightly and slipped to his feet. 

“Hey! You actually came.” He smirked slightly as he walked over, a navy blue button up and comfortable looking black jeans and converse fitting him easily as he walked over, the sleeves rolled to just above his elbows and the collar undone a couple buttons down. 

You crossed your arms slightly as you looked up at him and shrugged. “I said seven didn’t I? I’m right on time. I’m no liar.” You mumbled and looked around before looking back up at the other. “So? Where are we going?” You questioned pulling a small laugh from the other. 

“Somewhere fun. Come on.” He motioned up the street with a nod and held a hand out for you.

“Don’t push it.” You shook your head and kept your arms crossed. “Just walk.” 

He chuckled and raised his hands in mock defense with a chuckle. “Alright, alright, no touching, got it.” He nodded along as he started off. 

“You are aware that ‘somewhere fun’ doesn’t tell me where we’re going right?” You complained as you walked, hands finding your pockets as you walked, looking around. It was nice out, just warm enough that you didn’t quite need a jacket and your focus moved on to that rather than whatever answer the flying hero said. You walked by his side for about ten minutes, him making small chat the whole way to a large club, thumping music could be heard almost a block away and you blinked as you looked up at him. 

“This isn’t just drinks…” You huffed as you looked up at him, your arms crossing once more.

“I never said it would be just drinks, I just said there would be drinks.” He smirked slightly at you, walking to the doors and opening one and holding it for you. “Come on, I come here a lot, it’s fun.” He assured with a smile as you begrudgingly walked in. 

“Long as this gets you to leave me alone, I don’t care.” You sighed as you stepped inside. The whole place smelled of cheap cologne and alcohol. Glitter practically covered the floor and everywhere you looked there were people wearing glowing bracelets and necklaces and luminescent paint. You shot a slight glare up at the other not appreciating being in such a loud and crowded place. However, the more you looked around it became surprisingly apparent that Hawks wasn’t the only pro beyond the velvet rope just after the entrance. There were a few others that you knew, all seeming to be having a good time. They were all younger pros, some less known, some more known and a crowd of other unfamiliar people and guests, but nonetheless, they were there. 

“I think you’ll have fun and be eating your words by the end of the night.” He chuckled to himself as the very large bouncer at the door pulled back the rope for you and Hawks. 

“Yeah right. In a place like this? Good luck.” You scoffed as you were let in and you began to look around a bit more intently. There were people drinking at the bar, a crowded dance floor, a dj’s booth with an overly excited bouncing dj, and booths and tables filled to the brim with people around the sides. 

“You can do more than just watch, you know. Let me buy you that drink.” He nodded and started toward the large and crowded bar in the back of the club. You sputtered slightly when he started walking away before you and turned to follow suit. 

“H-Hey! Don’t just walk away without me!” You complained and walked up beside him for fear of getting lost in that crowd of people. 

“I just figured you’d follow along. Seems like I was right.” He teased and you huffed slightly and rolled your eyes. 

“So? What do you like to drink?” He questioned and you just shrugged. “I’m not too picky, just no beer.” You mumbled slowly and he hummed for a moment with a small nod ordering both of you a shot each of tequila and lime followed by a ordering either of you a sex on the beach. You tilted your head slightly at the combo but took the shot and bit into your lime sparingly taking the second drink that was handed to you as well. “So? What now?” You mumbled, taking a sip of your drink as he repeated yoru first action and took a long drink of his as well. 

“We could sit and talk, or go dance, whichever you prefer.” He nodded happily and motioned around. Not much one for dancing, you motioned to probably the only empty booth in the whole place, a small half circle seating space with a round table in the middle. “Sitting it is then.” He smiled a bit and started toward the table with you following close, drink in hand. 

“You seem very familiar with this place. Why are there so many other pros here?” You questioned, looking up at the other curiously and tilting your head. 

“I do, spend a lot of weekends here hanging out. And originally this place was only open for heroes and one guest with them. They relaxed on the rules a bit but for the most part everyone here is desensitized to being around heroes so no one goes above and beyond. One of the places that heroes can still just go out have fun and act like normal people every once in a while. And when I say this place has everything I mean this place had everything that you could think of. There’s the normal club area, a strip club in the room over, they even have a billiards area where they have competitions and gambling rooms.” He smiled happily as he spoke and you just nodded along. It figured that places like this existed, you just never thought that you’d be sitting in one, let alone across from the number two pro. It was a little disorienting. 

“Makes sense. It’s really big though.” You nodded slowly as you sipped your drink, already about half through the small glass as you listened to the music around you. 

“It’s gotta be to accommodate everything.” He nodded happily and the song faded out of one and into another.

You took a long sip of your drink before Hawks gasped. “Hey! I love this song! C’mon, let’s dance a while.” He nodded and before even giving you a chance to respond you were pulled to your feet. You gasped in surprise downing your drink and setting it on the table as you were pulled toward a mosh of people in the center of the room, Hawks taking no time to pull you into the crowd with him. 

“Damn… I-I don’t dance…” You shook your head standing still with your arms crossed as you looked at the other who had already started dancing along. 

“Awe, come on, don’t be like that, just relax a little.” He nodded excitedly and nudged your shoulder. You stumbled slightly as a couple people bumped into you and gasped, letting out a little yelp as you tripped and landed against Hawks’ chest. “Woah, careful!” His arms were around you before you knew what was happening, his hands gently resting on your hips as he held you steady. 

“I-I’m fine!” You stuttered slightly and stood up straight again, your cheeks flushing slightly as the other just continued to sway and move along with the music. “You can let me go now…” You muttered slightly, your hands lightly pressed to his chest as if pushing him a bit would make him let you go, but pulling back only resulted in the general bump and grind of the dance-floor to push you forward more, pressing you flush with Hawks’ chest. 

“You gotta relax. If you aren’t moving you’ll get pushed around. Just try it.” He smiled at you kindly and you blinked a bit. It was the alcohol, it had to be, he hadn’t been that attractive from far away, so there was no reason that your heart was beating like this now. None at all. 

“I said I don’t dance…” You shook your head a bit, not even realizing that his hands were still on your hips, making you sway along with the beat. 

“But you’re already doing great.” He smirked and you flushed a bit as you realized that you really had begun to sway with him, and you weren’t quite sure if you were doing it on your own or not. 

“Sh-shut up!” You shook your head slightly and stiffened a little, almost immediately stumbling again and Hawks just chuckled, his arms wrapping around you just enough to keep you pressed up against him and you swore the music faded and everything froze for a moment as he held onto you with a bright and happy smile, messy hair falling slightly into his face as he looked down at you and the faded music of the club changed once more. 

“You alright there?”

“L-let’s...let’s just go sit down.” You muttered quickly and he shook his head a little. 

“No way. Come on, move those two left feet of yours and have some fun.” He nodded slowly and helped to make your hips sway a little more along to the bead of the next song. 

You rolled your eyes at the comment and shushed him again but before you knew it, you were moving on your own, hips swaying and head bobbing to the music as the other continued to make stupid jokes. You’d blame it all on the alcohol, but honestly, you were beginning to have fun, lots of fun. 

“There ya go! Move like that!” He laughed happily and spun you lightly in your own little world away from everything around you. You were smiling, laughing along and enjoying yourself more than you thought possible. 

“You’re ridiculous.” You shook your head slightly as his spinning you landed you against his chest once again and you just laughed quietly there, his smile widening a bit as you stood there, this time making no effort to pull away as you shifted to smile slightly up at him. 

“I told you you would have fun.” He spoke up, quiet enough that you could just barely make out his voice over the raucous of the crowd and you just flushed a bit. 

“Yeah, yeah, so you win.” You rolled your eyes, keeping that small smile on your face as he held onto you gently. You stayed like that for a while, the taller calmly holding you before slowly swaying and you both began to dance once more. 

You danced until you felt like your feet would fall off, smiling at him and laughing all the while until finally you were pulled from the floor, happy but tired. 

“It’s getting late.” He spoke up with a gentle smile, gently holding your hand that he’d used to pull you off the floor, and this time, you didn’t pull away. 

“We should probably head home then, huh?” You questioned with a soft smile and a nod. Sure it was the weekend, but you still didn’t want to spend the whole thing exhausted. 

“Come on then, I’ll walk you back to your place!” he smiled happily and you finally started out. You’d gotten there a little after seven, and pulling your phone out now to check the time you gasped slightly as the time on your phone flickered over to one am. It wasn’t the latest, but having started at seven? 

“Holy shit…” You shook your head slightly. “How were we there for so long?” You looked up at him, not really even noticing that he’d tossed his arm around you lightly. 

“See, time really does fly when you’re having fun, right?” He smirked at you and you just shook your head slightly. “Guess so.” you rolled your eyes slightly and nodded a bit as you walked, the sound of the club slowly disappearing behind you. 

“I’m glad you had fun.” He nodded slowly giving your arm a light squeeze. You’d both had the same amount to drink but he seemed fine while your body felt warm, and you were sure your cheeks were flushed. 

“Don’t go getting cocky on me now.” You nudged his side slightly and he laughed happily. 

“Wouldn’t dream of it, sweetcheeks.” He smirked as you walked and scoffed a bit. “Thought I told you not to call me that earlier.” You huffed slightly and shook your head as you walked home. 

The rest of the walk continued much the same until you got to your apartment building and stopped. 

“This is my stop.” You nodded slowly and looked up at him with a soft smile and he nodded slowly, seeming reluctant to pull back as his arm shifted off your shoulders and his hand slipped into his pocket. 

“Ah, yeah… We should do this again sometime, right?” He questioned with a light dust of just barely noticeable pink across his cheeks. 

“You know, uh… If you wanted you could come in and stay a while?” You suggested, rubbing the back of your neck slightly, a bit unsure why you were offering something like that, but the other seemed to light up a bit at the offer, the feathers of his wings ruffling a little which you had to admit was a bit cute. 

“Wait, really?! You’re inviting me in?” He smiled brightly and you just shook your head a bit. 

“Not if you keep acting so happy about it.” You teased and motioned to the door. “Lets go.” You nodded a bit and gave him a small smile, holding the door open slightly for him. 

It was pretty rare for you to invite someone up with you, into your home, your safe place, but he had seemingly done a good job at making you loosen up and have a good time, so you decided to hell with it as you stepped onto the elevator with him. 

You bumped the button for the fourth floor and stood close beside Hawks on the way up, teasing him and joking lightly as you got off and paused outside your door to bend down and slip off your shoe. 

“Why are you taking your shoes off?” He tilted his head in confusion. 

“My key is in my boot. It's the only place it won't get lost.” You chuckled softly as you fumbled in your boot for it and moved to unlock the door. However, before you even got a chance to finish unlocking it, Hawk’s reached out and gently pulled you closer, surprising you with a sudden kiss. 

Your body froze slightly at the sudden touch and after blinking a few times your body simply relaxed, eventually returning the light kiss while it lasted, your eyes falling closed. 

You weren’t sure how long Hawks kissed you, your cheeks flushing darkly as he finally parted from your lips and you were left breathless and confused. 

“Wh-wha...what was...you...uh..” You stuttered and stammered for a moment, just looking up at him in slight shock. 

“Sorry… I uh...you were in a good mood and I figured it was better to do it before we got inside. I’d rather you be mad at me before we get inside then to have you make me leave while we’re in there.” He spoke slowly, rubbing his neck nervously and biting his lip, pulling back a little as if planning to leave. It took you a moment to register what he said enough to nod, but as soon as you nodded a bit you shifted, dropping your shoe to the ground so you could stop the other from going and gently pull him back into another soft kiss. 

This time it was him that seemed surprised, gasping softly before he gladly melted against your lips and his hands found your hips, pulling you in for more. 

You were lost, no idea what you were doing or why you were doing it but here you stood kissing the winged hero Hawks after an unwanted date gone perfect in front of your own apartment. The kiss lasted far longer than you cared to admit and as it continued it only seemed to get deeper and somehow desperate as you were walked back toward your door, shoe being kicked in alongside you as the man in question pushed the door open and removed your key from the lock, pressing you back lightly against the door when it was closed. 

Your head swirled in your confusion, but you still didn’t pull away, your lips fighting with his as his hands began to run along your sides pulling a small shiver from you. He smirked as he pulled back, the door clicking as he locked it and tilted his head, kisses trailing down slowly along your neck and making you release a small but overly-excited moan from the sudden touch to sensitive skin. 

He seemed pleased by the sound you made, his fingers tangling with the fabric along the hem of your shirt, carefully slipping underneath and brushing along your sides more directly, slipping up further before he was all out groping your chest pulling a soft gasp from you. 

He smirked as he shifted you a bit, his lips once more pulling you in for a deep kiss as your hands shifted up slowly from his chest to begin to unbutton his top, feeling his lips pulling into a smirk as he pulled back. 

“Didn’t take you for the type to do this on a first date.” He teased, hands still warm on your breasts as you tugged the buttons of his shirt undone slowly. 

“Hm, maybe not. But are you complaining?” You questioned with a smirk as you pulled the last ones open and reached up to his shoulders, sliding hands under the fabric and over his built form to pull off the shirt and watch it pool on the floor just before your lips crashed against his once again and you moaned softly against his lips in an attempt to spur him on further. 

His hands moved slowly up behind your neck, pulling the tie of your halter undone and watching as the fabric slipped down, letting your breasts pop free and his hands move more freely as well. You shuddered at the feeling of calloused fingers brushing across the sensitive skin of your nipples pulling a small moan from you once more. 

“F-fuck.” Your breath was shuddered as you broke the kiss and he tugged you forward off the wall, pulling the rest of your shirt off to toss it aside, slowly leaving a trail of clothing as you pushed and pulled one another back toward the bedroom, hands roaming one another’s torsos and sides until finally you were pushed back onto the bed, the only thing left on your body the comfortable underwear you’d put on before you left, the same with him and his boxers, the last remaining thing between either of you. 

“God damn…” The man breathed out as he looked over you, smirking as he shifted to climb over you with a low chuckle. “I knew you were sexy but I didn’t expect you to be this sexy.” He hummed and leaned down to kiss and suck along your neck. “You’re probably already fucking soaked, aren’t you?” He smirked and slipped a hand down between you to press his fingers against you through your panties, clear slick immediately beginning to soak through the fabric making an evident wet spot as you moaned. 

“Ah~ Hawks!” You gasped and bit your lip as he touched you. He clicked his tongue in disapproval, shaking his head a little. “Not right now I’m not. Keigo. Call me by name.” He smirked and leaned down again to press his lips roughly against yours, his fingers still lightly massaging at that wet spot. 

You moaned against his lips and nodded in an obedient manner, shivering as his free hand played with your nippled slowly, his fingers then slipping under the fabric of your bottoms to tease your entrance. 

“You’re so wet. Fuck. Look at this.” He dipped a finger inside of you quickly and pulled his hand back to look at the strands of slick connecting his fingers now. You moaned and blushed darkly as he shifted to press his fingers to your lips. “Open your mouth, sweetcheeks. I want you to taste yourself~.” Your face felt like it was burning but you listened, your lips slowly parting as you sucked his fingers into your mouth, going along with whatever he seemed to want to do. He smirked and watched you seeming pleased. 

“Shit, beautiful. I really didn’t think you’d be this much of a slut~. You’re probably already aching for my cock aren’t you. You want me inside you don’t you?” He purred his words out low and sweet like they were simply laced with honey and you couldn’t help but listen, moaning around his fingers as he slipped them from your mouth and he nodded slowly. 

“God, yes…” You breathed out slowly as he ran his thumb along your bottom lip. 

“Question is where~? You want me to fuck you or would you rather I use this pretty little mouth of yours? Shove my cock down your throat until it’s all you can think about.” He hummed deeply and you shivered at the thought, the fabric covering your heat slowly being removed to expose you to the cool air of the room as his fingers gently began to circle your clit. “So what’ll it be, slut? You want me to fuck your cunt or that pretty mouth?” He smirked mischievously and you simply whined, shifting and rolling your hips down for his touch, mind fuzzy from the current pleasure he was giving you. 

“I-I want… ah~ fuck… I wanna suck your cock…” You managed to breathe out, your body shuddering as his fingers pulled back from you and he smirked shifting to stand and nodded. “Alright then, get to it.” He scoffed slightly as he looked over you. You had to take a moment to compose yourself enough to crawl to your knees on the edge of the bed in front of him, hands carefully moving to pull down his boxers and reveal his cock standing perfectly erect and throbbing before you. You sighed slightly seeing him like this, you’d never wanted to admit just how attractive he was before, but now? You couldn’t deny it at all. He was gorgeous. 

You acted slowly, purely on what you knew, one hand slowly grasping the base and stroking along his length a few times before leaning down and kissing a long stripe along his length, looking up at him with a small smirk of your own. 

“You really are a little slut, huh? Done this before have you?” He chuckled deeply as he watched you kiss and lick along his length before taking the head into your mouth and swirling your tongue around him with a nod. “I can tell, you know how to handle a cock.” He chuckled deepl and let out a low groan as you pressed yourself down suddenly, taking over half his length into your mouth and hollowing your cheeks to suck hard around him. 

His head lolled back a bit and he groaned deeply. “Fuck~. Such a good slut, sucking it so deep.” He breathed out and let you begin to bob your head, one hand tangling into your hair to press you down more. You gagged a bit as he pressed you lower but kept your composure, moaning around his length as one hand of yours moved down to your heat, two fingers carefully slipping inside you as you spread yourself a bit farther apart on the bed, moning again as you began to calmly finger yourself while you sucked him deep and hard, his hand guiding your head a bit as you continued. You showed no signs of stopping even as the other began to roll his hips into your mouth, your sucking and twisting and licking pleasing him to the edge as he groaned. 

“Fuck~, I’m gonna cum soon.” He hissed out slowly and his hips rocked forward a bit, pulling another gag from you as you pressed down more and swallowed around his length. 

“Fuck yeah, swallow my cock, slut.” He groaned and continued to roll his hips for a few long moments before he groaned and his hips stilled, keeping your head held down. “You can swallow this too~.” He purred deeply as he groaned and came in our mouth, pulling back and leaving you sputtering for a moment before you swallowed what was left and panted slowly. 

You didn't have much time to recover before he was suddenly pushing you back against the bed again, pinning you roughly as his still-hard cock positioned against your aching cunt. 

“Did so good for me, now I’ll return the favor. Gonna fuck you so good., give you just what you want, slut.” He purred slowly as he pressed forward pulling a loud moan from you as he pushed his length into you slowly, bottoming out and beginning to slowly thrust. 

He wasn’t huge, above average but nothing special. However, what was special was the way he moved, angled upward so he hit against your deepest and most sensitive spots all at once, his thumb circling your clit as he pinned you down preventing you from desperately rolling your hips as he fucked into you. 

“Ah~ K-Kei!” You gasped and moaned out for him, your back arching up as best it could the way he had you pinned. “F-feels so good~ Please don’t stop~!” You gasped out and your hips rocked a bit down against him as he smirked. 

“And take this away from my little slut? Not a chance.” His hips snapped forward as he spoke, pounding into you roughly. 

When you pleaded harder, he pounded you harder, when you whined for faster his hips picked up the pace, if you wanted more he kissed you and fucked you more making you a sloppy mess as he fucked into you. 

“Such a good little whore like this. Wanna fuck you all night, use you up until youre panting and the only thign you remember is my name on your lips~.” He groaned deeply as he spoke, his own low moans making you whine for more as he fucked you, the coil in your stomach tightening more with each thrust of his hips. 

“I-I’m close… Kei~.” You breathed out slowly, your head spinning as you clung to him as best you could, his movements rough and lovely as he fucked you into the mattress. 

“Then cum for me, sweetcheeks~, I wanna watch you lose yourself on my cock, wanna fill you up with my cum.” He groaned out with a smirk as he leaned over you, biting and sucking a few marks against your neck, the sensation just enough to send you crashing over the edge as you back arched up off the bed and you came hard with a loud moan and a pitiful whine. He smirked as he watched you, enjoying the display and not stopping, continuing on as he watched you squirm beneath him, overstimulation slowly setting in as he slammed his hips forward and came hard inside you, painting your insides white and pulling out quickly to finish, the last of his release spilling over your stomach and dripping down as he held your thighs apart and watched his cum drip out of you. 

You weren’t sure how long it took for you to catch your breath, but in that time the other flopped down beside you, reaching for a tissue box beside your bed and cleaning bother of you as best as a box of tissues coil before he completely relaxed against the bed, one of his large red wings resting across your naked form and pulling you closer so he could sling an arm around you as well, using his wing as a blanket to hold you in rather than move to get a real one. 

You were both silent for a long time. Tired but both having something left to say. You bit your lip and after a while of slowing down ragged breaths you finally spoke up. 

“I think I can safely say you won. Even if that was more than just drinks.” You chuckled lightly and he nodded a bit with a smile, shifting to kiss you softly. 

“Does that mean I get a second date?” He smirked slowly as he held onto you and with a soft giggle and a tired yawn you nodded. 

“One more.” You smiled softly and closed your eyes, gently drifting off to the quiet sound of his calm laughter.

[nazyalenskyism]

Let’s Get Married 3

Let’s Get Married Part 3 (Let’s Get Married)

Summary: Guess who got married! A/N: PLEASE READ: From this point on, anything labeled as "THEN,"/"18 months ago" refers to the week during which Chapter 2 (I've Been So Far Gone Lately) is set during. Anything labeled as "NOW" or "18 months later" is set in the present day. Sorry for any confusion!

Ao3: Let's Get Married Part 3

18 months later (NOW):

David Kostyk came back from his break like always, with a mug of tea from his wife in one hand and a stack of files from Nikolai in the other, ready to dive into the documents for the day. The first few files were standard, he was signing off on others’ work, making sure everything was up to date and properly formatted but it was when he hit the fifth document that he found something amiss. He pushed his glasses up his nose, bending down to make sure that he read the file correctly. No, that couldn’t be. That would mean that--Oh no.

David picked up his receiver, punching in numbers he knew by heart, this was going to be anything but a quiet morning like he’d hoped. “Genya, you need to see this.”

                                                            ***

“Nikolai Lantsov!” he glanced up at the mention of his name, surprised at the sight before him. Genya marched into the room with Tolya and Tamar walking determinedly behind her while David trailed behind them, clutching a stack of papers in his hands. Nikolai glanced at his watch, it was only 11 AM, they didn’t have their daily meeting until 2 PM, that was odd.

He raised a brow, easing back in his chair, “can I help you?”

“What’s this?” Genya exclaimed without any preamble, grabbing a paper off the top of the stack in David’s hands and slapping it onto his desk.

“Paper, I assume, darling Genya.”

“I mean what’s on the paper,” she snapped, “it says you’re married.”

Nikolai paused, drawing the paper towards him, “you were at the wedding,” he glanced around, “you all were. In fact, you were the only people there.”

“You were supposed to get divorced,” Tolya interjected, “that was the plan.”

“Plans change.”

“Nikolai, you were supposed to be married for six months, a year at most.” Tamar frowned.

“It’s just been more beneficial than we’d originally thought.”

“What?” Genya asked, scowling at him.

“Well, we realized it would be better for our taxes, for one.” he ticked off a finger with each additional reason he gave. “People don’t ask for our numbers when we go out anymore and my parents and brother hate both of us so they leave us alone. One glare from Zoya and deals are signed in record time, I don’t have to suffer through terrible parties alone anymore, and Zoya has to be nice to me,” he furrowed his brow, “well sometimes. Actually not nicer but--”

“What are you going to do now?” David interrupted.

“What do you mean?”

Tamar spoke up, “you can’t keep this lie up forever, someone is going to find out, it’s amazing they haven’t already.”

“Yes,” Genya nodded, “what if you meet someone, and want to get married? What are you going to do then? Or what if someone asks you why you don’t live together or why your prenup with Zoya is basically giving her 50% anyways?”

“We’ve been too busy,” Nikolai said dismissively.

“Busy? She spends half her evenings hanging out at your apartment or with us. Even if that wasn’t the case, Nikolai, you always make time for important things.”

“It’s not important at the moment.” He understood their confusion, he had been surprised at first too when Zoya hadn’t asked him to call things off three seconds after they had officially gotten married and secured the company as his. In fact, she hadn’t brought it up at all. Not once in a year and a half and neither had he. It felt like they’d struck some sort of perfect balance, and the last thing he wanted was to destroy their peace. No, when Zoya wants to end this, I’ll agree, but until then I won't be the one to ruin this.

“It is important!” Genya looked as if she wanted to shake some sense into him, which was odd, usually only Zoya had that look on her face. Speaking of Zoya, it had been a minute since he’d spoken to her, not since he’d brought her coffee to her office this morning, all the way on the other side of the floor. He should send her a text about dinner tonight, he had found a fantastic restaurant whose specialty was her favourite dish and wanted to take her. He pulled his phone out of his waistcoat pocket, smiling as he typed a message he knew would make her roll her eyes, chuckling at her response.

“Hey!” Genya snapped her fingers in front of his face, startling him from his texting. “Nikolai, if you don’t think this is an important thing to do at the moment, what do you think it means that you like spending time with her, that you trust her with all your secrets? How you don’t care about what anyone else has to say about you, everyone but Zoya? The rare time she compliments you, you light up like a Christmas tree! Not only that but…” Genya trailed off, twisting her wedding band around her finger, glancing around at her friends for a reprieve, but they were all avoiding her imploring gaze.

“But?” Nikolai prompted. He could feel his ears burning, but he wouldn’t allow his friends to see how Genya’s words had impacted him.

“You know what,” she sighed. “Nikolai, you know why you don’t want to change things and it’s the same reason she doesn’t want to change things either. Both of you want this and there’s a reason why, a reason that would make you both a lot happier than you are now.”

Nikolai stood abruptly, he’d had enough. “As always, your advice is appreciated but unneeded. Now if you’ll excuse me I have an appointment and before that, as per the request of my friends,” he gestured to them, “I need to start filing for divorce.”

                                                               ***

18 months ago (THEN):

“I found something,” Nikolai whispered, sliding up behind Zoya and gently touching her arm before slipping a drink into her hand. In the ballroom behind them the party was in full swing but out here on the terrace overlooking the gardens there was barely a buzz. They’d moved outside because they hadn’t wanted their conversation to be overheard by someone at the party. If anyone found out what they were planning on doing they would be in big trouble, to say the least. She arched a brow, and took a sip of her drink and he took it as an indication to speak. “There’s a clause in the bylaws that states that someone other than the intended heir of the company can inherit it if they challenge the intended heir, get a majority of votes from the board, and are over thirty.”

“Nikolai, you’re nowhere near thirty, there’s no way you’re going to be able to stop Vasily from getting his greasy hands all over your company.”

He shot her a bemused look, “my company?”

“You know what I mean,” she snapped. “That can’t be all you found, keep talking.”

“Well,” he began slowly, “the only way we get around that is, there’s a clause that says you have to be thirty or married.” A deafening silence stretched out between them, both trying to gauge the others’ reaction. Zoya spoke first, surprisingly.

“So, when’s the wedding? What should I get you, cash or something off the registry?”

“Nazyalensky, I didn’t say that I was going to get married.”

“Come on,” she said, looking up at him, “this is your life’s goal. If you don’t secure the company now, then your brother or that old creep Aleksander will take what’s rightfully yours.” Her finger jabbed at his chest, her eyes alight with passion. If he didn’t know any better, he would think that she believed in him. “You are the only person who can and should be running it. It’s yours Lantsov, it always has been.”

Nikolai felt a kernel of warmth unfurling in his chest as Zoya whipped away from him and back towards the skyline, the faintest blush colouring the tops of her cheeks. Open admissions of friendship always made her ill. Nikolai drew in a breath, preparing to be eviscerated for what he was going to say next. “Would you?”

She squinted at him, “would I what?”

“Would you marry me? Hypothetically. If you were an eligible bachelorette in the city?” Zoya cut him a quick glare, “hypothetically, yes. Anyone would be stupid not to.”

“And do you consider yourself smart?” he said.

“Nikolai…” she faltered, “don’t.”

“Don’t what? It makes sense, doesn’t it? We already know each other, we don’t have to draw up an extravagant prenup, I’ll gladly give you half of what I have, we can get divorced a week after we get the company, and go on with life as usual.”

Zoya shook her head at him, “and what will people say when you and your ex-wife are working side by side every day, with no bad blood? And getting divorced a week later, that makes it so obvious that you only did it for the company.”

“Fine,” he said simply. “If you can tolerate me for a couple of months, we can stage some big fight and break things off. We’ll say that we were young and in love and made a stupid decision.”

Her hand went to the chain around her neck, rubbing the locket absently. “I don’t think this is a good idea Nikolai.”

“Nazyalensky,” he stepped closer to her, “we’re running out of time and I don’t think I have any other options. I wish there was another way but if this is the only way, I will do it, but I would rather it be with someone I trust. And hey, it’s only six months, then we’ll be back to how we always were.”

Nikolai waited for a minute, then two, then what felt like forever before she finally spoke. “Okay.” She turned towards him, “okay, but no big wedding. Just us, the officiant, Genya, David, Tamar, Tolya, Nadia, and my family. Just the ten of us.”

He took her hand, “what about all my friends?”

“What friends,” she scoffed.

Nikolai pouted, “harsh.”

“Honest.”

He laughed at that, pulling out the small box that had been sitting against his chest all night. He popped it open before flipping it towards her, cherishing the faint flicker of disbelief on her face as he slipped the ring onto her finger. He knew what she was thinking; it was huge and sparkly, the two things she liked most.

“You idiot,” she slapped his chest, “you knew about this already, why did you wait until now to tell me?”

“I wanted to have the ring ready,” he protested, admiring the excitement painted onto her exquisite features as she admired the glimmering ring in the moonlight. “I didn’t think you’d agree unless I had it.”

“You’re right, I was just feeling extreme amounts of pity towards you tonight, otherwise, even your desperation wouldn’t have been enough. ”

“Ruthless,” Nikolai smiled, “now, shall we tell the others?”

Zoya took his outstretched arm, “let’s.”

“Ah, ah.” Nikolai chided, “it would be a little obvious if we stepped out of the party to get engaged, no?”

“Ugh, fine,” she groaned, slipping the ring off her finger, and reluctantly placing it back in the box. “You’re right, it clashes with my outfit tonight anyways. But I’d like it back as soon as possible.”

“Let me finish putting a little something together. We should at least be able to have a little fun with it.”

“Alright,” she sighed, “but no public proposal.”

“No public proposal,” he agreed, “just us. Like always.”

                                                        ***

18 months later (NOW):

“What is it, Genya?” Zoya sighed, stepping around a tourist glued to the center of the sidewalk, her phone tucked between her shoulder and ear as she gripped the box of baklava against her chest. Nikolai always got peckish in the afternoon and the sweet was his favourite snack and if she’d learned anything in life it was that a well-fed Nikolai was a more productive Nikolai.

“Care to tell me why you’re still married?”

“Hm?” She eyed the window display of the boutique behind her, while waiting for the streetlight. Nikolai would love that sweater and the blue would bring out the gold in his eyes.

“Hey!” Genya snapped at her, “why didn’t you tell us that you’re still married?”

“Should I have?”

“Yes? Obviously yes!”

“Okay,” Zoya said, not seeing the issue, “so now you know.”

“You were supposed to get divorced a year ago, why are you still married?”

She sighed, it was so simple, how did no one else get it? “It was better for our taxes, people don’t ask for our numbers when we go out anymore, Nikolai’s family leaves us alone. It makes it easier to deal with all the stuff from when Liliyana--” she broke off, clearing her throat, “it makes business deals go smoother, we can bail each other out of stuff. It just makes things easier.”

“What if you meet someone and want to get married, or even date them? Or what if Nikolai does?” Zoya frowned, turning away from the boutique door she’d been about to open, crossing the street instead. She hadn’t thought about that before. Nikolai was a romantic, she’d seen it in action, and while he’d never been in a long-term relationship in the time she’d known him, he had been on dates where he’d gone all out. What if he was even slightly interested in someone and pushed aside the prospect of a relationship with them because he felt that he owed her something? She didn’t want that.

“I know. It’s just-- we’ve been busy.”

“That’s exactly what he said.”

“We’ll get around to it, we will.”

Genya seemed to pick up the weariness of her voice and simply said, “I know you will,” before hanging up.

Zoya slumped into her car, resting her forehead against the steering wheel. When did things get so complicated? He’d asked Zoya to help him because it was supposed to be uncomplicated when it was her. When had she let herself fall into this so badly that she genuinely questioned her ability to extract herself from it?

Her phone chimed and she saw that her last conversation with Nikolai had been deleted from their message history, the one where they’d been making dinner plans. Instead she saw a new message under their conversation from last night simply reading, “we need to talk. I’ll pick you up at 7.”

Zoya exhaled through her nose, punching out, “Okay.” in response before tossing her phone into the backseat. It was ridiculous to think that anything about this arrangement had ever been easy. The night that Nikolai’s parents had thrown them an engagement party had been proof enough of that.

[openheart12]

Hi, yes, hello beautiful! Can you write a fic where MC accidentally sends Ethan her entire fanfic folder by mistake 😂🤣

How To Get Away With Fanfiction

I’m reliving my embarrassment 😭 but it is done and idk wtf happened with this lmao. This is also to make up for earlier kmjhygfd

Only tagging @ao719 @oofchoices @loveellamae @burnsoslow because no one else should have to read this unless they click on the read more and if they do... god bless. And thank you to Maroe for helping me come up with some of these ideas!

It had been a long day at work when Dr. Gertrude-Sue Claws made her way home to do the one thing that relaxed her; writing fanfiction.

She had thought of the perfect idea for Spirit and Rainbow Dash and her fingers flew across the keyboard.

There was something about the multi colors in his mane and tail that drew him to her. He lived by the phrase, “hump ‘em and dump ‘em,” which he planned on doing with Rainbow Dash, but not without consent because horse jail wasn’t fun. He had heard the horror stories from his human friends, Kurns and Bryce.

“Rainbow Dash,” he neighed.

“Spirit…” She neighed back in response, she knew all about his...extracurricular activities. He was the biggest fuck horse out of the herd. Ever since Rain had died from drowning, god bless, he hadn’t been the same. It was also why he paid more attention to Rainbow Dash because she had Rain in the first part of her name.

“Let’s do this,” he smirked with his horse mouth.

“Fine…” She turned her back to him as he reared on his hind legs and mounted her, letting out a series of neighs.

She laughed silently to herself before moving on her Owen Hunt fic and she knew how much she was going to enjoy this one especially.

Owen was walking through the halls when he saw five women stalking towards him like cats, one even had whiskers drawn on her face. “Anitah with the h, get him!” He heard one of them command and watched as she came up to him, kicking him in no man's land. He felt them drag him into an empty exam room.

“MAROE! You got the chainsaw?”

“Nah bruh, Bears and Rams were in charge of that,” she explained.

Anything but Krista, cocked her half shaved eyebrow at Burns and Ella. “Y’all got the chainsaw?”

“No, but I have the cream for the burn I’m about to inflict,” Burns snickered to herself at her own joke, the others joining in before getting back to business.

“Burns, Ella, go scope out the cafeteria for some good food because I can’t kill in good faith on an empty stomach and as me and Ella say, we always get food first,” Anything but Krista said, turning her attention to the two people left, throwing them both a knife. Then proceeded to stab Owen numerous times, but making sure not to hit any major organs yet.

“We need a blender,” Anitah with the h announced.

“Are you thinking what I’m thinking?” Anything but Krista and MAROE said at the same time, looking at each other and bursting into laughter at the jinx.

“If that was making a human smoothie, then yes. We’ll show him that no one messes with Derek Christopher Shepherd,” Anitah with the h said smugly, pulling a blender out from behind her back and plugging it into the wall.

“You...you pulled that out of your jacket?” MAROE asked in a surprising tone.

“Y’all don’t keep blenders in yours?” Anitah with the h asked as if that wasn’t common, but it was good to know that she was always prepared.

Suddenly, the walkie talkie came to life, “Team Bears/Rams to Team CA, what y’all want from here? Over and out.”

“Team CA to Team Bears/Rams, we want CookOut. Over and out.” Anything but Krista responded. “It’s about time y’all tried a little piece of heaven,” she looked at Anitah with the h and MAROE.

“That’s a negative ghost rider, the closest CookOut is on the other side of the country. Over and out.”

“Well you better get on your way because you two also need to try a little piece of heaven, we’ll save the good stuff for when you get back. Over and out.” The trio resumed their slice and dice game, taking a short break to play Choices because the latest chapter of The Nanny Affair had just been released and even Owen wasn’t going to keep them away from Sam Dalton.

A couple hours later, Burns and Ella arrived with the food, handing out their respective trays to their respective orderers, they were able to keep the milkshakes from melting by their cold hearts.

“Ahhh gimme my milkshake,” Anything but Krista snatched it from Burns’ hand, earning a slap on her hand from her adoptive mother and a threat of taking away her pony...again.

“Yooo this shake hits different,” Ella exclaimed.

“You could even say that it slaps,” MAROE added making her squeak.

“It’s the one good thing North Carolina has to offer for me,” Anything but Krista chimed in, fist bumping Anitah with the h because the struggle was real. The cows really did outnumber the people, they just hoped that there wouldn’t be a cow revolution because that would be awful except the yeehaw folk would probably survive since they did have a song called “A Country Boy Can Survive.” 

“Burns, we left you the honor of picking the perfect weather for us to dispose of the body which is more like liquid at this point. We need rain, thunder, and lightning to erase all of the evidence. Watching “Forensic Files” has finally come in handy. And Ella, we need you to pretend to be a nurse or something to help us get out of here. I’ll be honest, I haven’t thought that far ahead…” Anything but Krista admitted, but they expected that from her so they already had a plan in place.

“If anyone happens to see Derek Shepherd, I ask that you tell me,” MAROE added.

“Not if I find him first,” Anything but Krista said.

“He’s like fifty four years old…” Burns said being ever the good adoptive mother.

“Then I call Spencer Reid!” Anything but Krista exclaimed.

“I have Lucifer then,” MAROE challenged knowing that would get under her skin. 

“Children, calm yourselves.” Burns shook her head.

“Hey, I’ll be eighteen in like a number amount of months,” Anything but Krista said.

“I’ll be eighteen before you,” MAROE said, sticking out her tongue.

“I’Ll Be EiGhTeEn BeFoRe YoU,” she repeated, placing her hands on her hips and doing that Spongebob meme. After thinking of a better comeback, she grabbed her knife she used on Owen earlier and plunged it into MAROE’s back.

“Et tu, Brute?” MAROE said with shock in her voice before her body crumpled on the ground.

“Yes, bye bitch.”

The other three just stared as the blood drained from her body before turning their attention to Anything but Krista. They were the epitome of 👁👄👁.

“What? She wanted to “due” anyway. And at her funeral we can play “To Be So Lonely” because well she will be lol.”

“Anywaysss, we gonna get food or what?” Ella asked as she covered Owen’s body with a sheet.

“Wings?” Burns suggested and they all agreed. After arriving at the restaurant, they were very shocked to see MAROE sitting at a table waiting for them.

“It’s the trying to kill me for me,” she said upon taking their seats, glaring at Anything But Krista specifically.

“It’s the stealing my fictional husbands for me,” she retaliated.

“It’s the acting like children for me,” Burns' authoritative voice came.

“Sorry,” they both murmured as they looked over the menus to order their food. The rest of their lunch going smoothly, their victims already forgotten about. Don’t mess with hangry chicks who hate Owent Cunt.

“So who’s next?” Anitah with the h asked.

“Ahh you’ve gotten the first taste of blood and now you’re addicted,” Burns observed. She would make for a good profiler for the FBI at Quantico. She would have a cool nickname; Cunt Punter.

“Why not just kill everyone we hate?” Ella questioned.

“That’s a great idea! I say we kill Guy and Vanessa,” Anything but Krista suggested.

“And Landrat!” MAROE added, the whole group agreeing, finishing their lunch before getting to their killing spree.

Gertrude-Sue was laughing at her made up characters and story when she received an email from Ethonk Remy to send him a folder that she had. Goggle Drive was acting stupid so she didn’t realize that she had shared her fanfiction folder with her boss before it was too late. She saw a little giraffe pop up in the right hand corner telling her that he was already viewing what was inside the folder.

“Holy donkey claws,” she cried out loud, smacking her hands against her face.

Meanwhile, Ethonk was going through her folder when he came across a document and his eyes went wide. “What are they doing with the dog?” He said to himself.

Wonder pets, wonder pets

We're on our way

To help a friend and save the day

We're not too big

And we're not too tough

But when we work together, we've got the right stuff

Gooo wonder pets yaaaaay!

The phone

The phone is ringing

The phone

We'll be right there

The phone

The phone is ringing

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble

There's an animal in trouble somewhere

“What the hell are Wonder Pets?” He continued inspecting the different documents ranging from murder of one Owen Cunt, horses having sexual intercourse, Wonder Pets stuff, four kids and a dog where they did questionable things with each other, a sponge and a starfish were high on marijuana, a game where Gertrude-Sue had made him and her a family that looked way too realistic for his liking, two bunnies who kept hopping around with one of their little brothers, and multiple documents about Matthew Gray Gubler, Tom Holland, Tom Ellis, Patrick Dempsey, and Harry Styles which were all quite disturbing.

He took out his phone to call her. “Hey uh, Gert, what is this?”

“Oh well you see, the funny thing is that I accidentally sent you the wrong folder so if you could just pretend like this never happened, that would be fantastic. Okay thanks bye. I’m sending you the right one this time.” And she hung up, ready to throw herself off a cliff at her stupidity.

One thing was for sure, she would never make this mistake again.

[moonlight-at-dawn]

Glaive!Noct sent to protect Luna fic, scene 1, first draft

[GDoc Link]

Noctis double-checked his provision list against his packs, then checked again. He was ready to set out for his mission in the morning. Looking around his small room, he was grateful that he at least had quarters within the Citadel, so he didn't have to worry about leaving his apartment for an extended time. His father had cautioned against getting too involved in the Citadel, lest he accidentally stumble over a line set in blood and stone some two millenia ago. Now with this mission, he wondered if this were the sort of thing Regis had been worried about.

To be the guard of the Oracle's heir as she takes her first solo healing journey around the world. It was a big responsibility, and one that he couldn't believe had been entrusted to him. It wasn't a matter of his skill, but the politics. His ancestor had accidentally killed the first Oracle when trying to slay his own brother. His intent was a matter of debatable morality, given the Starscourge which still plagued the land, but the outcome was undeniable. Some thought that his family line should die out, but it had persisted stubbornly, and with the cautious support of the lineage that had taken over rule of Lucis in his family's stead.

It was that support that now had him on such a high profile mission. He shouldn't have made friends with the prince, that was the problem. But what was done was done, and he had to deal with it. He had to protect Lady Lunafreya no matter what, or he and his father may well be executed. That hadn't been said, of course, and perhaps he was being paranoid, but he had grown up in the slums because of what someone some 70 generations back had done, so he didn't find the fear irrational at all. Even if they weren't executed as part of a legal response to failure, the common people of all the world would surely hold them accountable.

"How many months of this stress will I have?" he muttered, glowering at his packs. A knock at his door made him jump, and he eyed the doorknob suspiciously, knowing his voice had been too low, but wondering if the person on the other side had heard his grumbling anyways. Shaking his head, he took the single step to open the door, and immediately put fist over heart, bowing, "Highness."

Prince Gladiolus snorted and gave him a friendly thump on the shoulder with a large and powerful hand. "What's the glum look for, Noct?" Noctis responded with a raised brow and a bemused expression. Laughing, Gladio strode past him and shut the door, and suddenly the room became crowded. It really wasn't meant for more than one person, especially not if the second person was as large as Gladio. His presence was as powerful as his body. "Look at it this way. You'll be spending months and months alone with a beautiful lady."

"Oh, yes," Noct responded with sarcasm, sitting on the corner of his bed so he could see Gladio on the one lone chair. "The world's least eligible bachelor traveling alone with the world's most beloved woman. I already see myself being threatened everywhere we go. How am I going to protect her when people hate me so much? I'll bring trouble to her!"

Gladio rolled his eyes and tossed something wrapped in cloth his way. "You give yourself too much credit. Most people don't know who the hell you are, and they don't give a shit. It's just 'cause you live in the capital that it's a problem. Getting out of the city will do you and that complex of yours some good."

Unfolding the cloth, Noct raised a brow at the pair of daggers inside. They were marked heavily with magic runes, and when he unsheathed them, he saw the material was of the type that daemons hated the most. He nodded in approval at them and looked up to Gladio. "A gift for the lady, or for me?"

"You. You never did get a decent set of daemon killing gear like I told you, did you?" The sheepish look was all the answer he needed. "Right. Well, take that. And, this," Gladio reached into his coat's inner pocket and drew out folded parchment.

The seal on it glowed with faint magic, and Noct looked it over. Official documents on such a mission weren't such a shock to hold, but still, it was his first time, and he couldn't help but to marvel at it. Of course, technically speaking, the magic involved was his own, from his family line, borrowed with the Ring and Crystal. It was the reason his family never left the capital, in spite of everything they faced. "What's this?"

"Open it up and read it."

That part was a surprise. He expected the orders to be something he had to hand to someone, like Lady Sylva. Not something for his own eyes. Opening it up, he browsed the words, and went pale when he finished. "I can't," he whispered.

"Well, you don't have to. But, shouldn't you be happy? Of all the Glaives, you're the only one who hasn't been allowed the magic, even though you're the only one who doesn't need to be connected to it."

"Yeah, but, that's because, it's different, when it's us," he stammered, looking up from the decree. "If I use magic, it'll be immediately obvious, who I am."

Gladio shook his head and stood up, slapping his friend's shoulder and then urging him towards the door. "Nonsense. People really don't know their lore that well. Now, c'mon. Ignis wants to see you before you leave."

"What about Prompto?"

"Gate duty, but he's your transport out tomorrow, so you'll get your goodbyes."

Noct nodded and grunted a soft understanding from his position a few respectful paces behind Gladio as they walked the halls. They didn't speak much when others were about. It wasn't unusual for his lineage to tag along behind the royalty, but the friendships happened behind doors. It didn't do for it to be public, even if everyone knew anyways. The charade was important. None of that made it easier to bear the scowls that focused on him the moment Gladio stepped past a bowing guard. Traditionally, the Caelums didn't join the glaives. They weren't explicitly barred from it however, and Noct had defied traditions when he had joined.

Gladio led him to Ignis' suite in the Citadel. Their friend was positioned to become Gladio's advisor upon his succession to the throne. The Scientias had served in the Citadel for a few hundred years now, and Ignis was the first to attain such a high position. He was incredibly intelligent and diligent, and Noctis couldn't understand how instead of advising Gladio against the friendship with Noct, he had instead taken to mothering Noct even more than he did his own prince. For all that Noct frequently complained about being held responsible for his ancestor's actions, he found it hard to believe when others actually agreed.

Not bothering to knock once they arrived at the right door, Gladio simply opened it up and let out the wonderful scents coming from the kitchen within. It seemed Ignis had prepared a going away dinner, and Noct wasn't about to complain about that, all his feelings of unworthiness vanishing immediately. Perhaps they should have been stronger then, but there was something in the overbearing way that Ignis cared for his friends that made it impossible to keep them up, at least in the moment. Gladio grinned as they stepped around the corner and into view of the kitchen and dining area.

"Damn Ig, you've outdone yourself," Gladio approved, picking up a bottle of beer and looking it over with a raised brow before popping off the cap with a summoned dagger instead of the tool set right on the counter for it. Ignis sighed with obvious exasperation at the show, but smiled at the compliment all the same.

Noct used the tool to open his, noting that it was one of the craft beers he preferred, rather than the simple cheap beer that the prince was more than happy to have. The jokes that it was obvious Noct was the one descended from a truly royal line because his tastes were so expensive hurt more than he let on, but they seemed absent that night, for which he was grateful. Peering over the counter, he tried to guess what Ignis was putting together, and realized there were far more things going on than he expected. He could at least determine the main course was an Insomnian style curry, the dark, sweet, and slightly spicy kind. Perhaps some of his tastes were rich, but when it came to food, he felt you just couldn't beat a large comfort meal of cheap cuts of meat and rice drenched in a flavorful sauce.

"Oh man, I'm starving," Noct's stomach rumbled as he spoke, and he looked ready to drool.

Gladio laughed and Ignis shooed him back to the table with a smug grin. "Well, you are here to eat, so it's a good thing you're hungry. Now go take a seat, this will be ready soon."

Noct let Gladio grab his shoulder and steer him to the table, and they took a seat, hesitating just a moment before pulling out their phones and loading up the game they all played together. "Hey Ignis," Noct called, thinking of something, "Y'think I'll have internet service on the other continent?"

"Doubtful. Perhaps in Gralea you would, but their technology is different from ours, so it may not be compatible."

"That's what I was afraid of," Noct grumbled, and Gladio laughed at the pout in his voice. "Guess I'll be giving Prompto my account while I'm gone. Don't let him do anything stupid."

"If you are worried he'll mess up your account, then perhaps you should give it to someone else."

Noct didn't reply, just frowned as he was taken more seriously than he had meant it. He knew his friend wouldn't do anything bad to his account, but he was sure to joke like he would. Sighing, he shook his head and looked over his phone at Gladio's smug expression. "What's that look for?"

Gladio turned his phone to display the new rare hero he had just drawn. Noct sat up and sputtered, indignant, and that just drew forth laughter. "Let me train her up then let's do a match. I want to see how she holds up."

"Fine," Noct muttered, pretending to be upset. He had wanted that hero, but he did have another one that would fight well against her, that Gladio didn't yet know he had pulled.

As they played, Ignis set out a tofu soup to start with, and Noct grinned at the sweet chili paste nearby, dumping perhaps a bit too much of it into his bowl before covering it with rice and mixing it all together.

“Save some room for the main dish.”

“Oh, I’ve got room,” Noct assured Gladio with a grin.

“Where do you fit it all?”

“It goes to my muscles.”

“What muscles?”

“The ones I used to kick your ass last week,” Noct smirked. Gladio was still smarting over that loss, and he grew sullen at the reminder.

Ignis interrupted the brotherly bickering, setting another dish in the center of the table, this one a plate of dumplings filled with pork and spicy, pickled cabbage. Noct’s stomach rumbled again, and he pushed his half finished soup aside to attack the dumplings. “I’m gonna miss the hell out of this. ...Oh god, the lady and I are going to be responsible for our own cooking half the time, won’t we? Ignis, any advice?”

“If her cooking skills are similar to your own, I suggest you invest in a stockpile of camp-ready meals.”

“Harsh,” Gladio laughed.

Noct pouted, knowing he wasn’t really that bad. “Igniiis,” he whined, looking to the man.

“I’m not sure what you want me to tell you,” was the reply. Ignis rejoined them, setting down the main dish and taking his own seat at last. “You know how to cook. You have a basic idea of how to compose a reasonably flavored meal. I’m not sure what kind of advice you want to hear.”

“I don’t know…,” Noct floundered. “But, well, you always manage to come up with meals from random ingredients, and we’ll probably travel light, so…?”

“So…?” Ignis asked, brow raised. Noct just stared at him, hopeful. Letting out an exasperated sigh, Ignis leaned back and adjusted his glasses as they slid down his nose. “Learn the local food you can forage, and you’ll be able to add more flavors to your stock provisions. That alone should help with variety. And hunting, for fresh meat.”

“And fishing,” Noct suddenly said, dreamy eyed.

Gladio burst out laughing, “You better not gross Lady Lunafreya out with your fishing! You stink when you’ve been at it too long.”

“She shouldn’t mind the extra food,” Noct huffed.

“I agree,” Ignis nodded, and he motioned towards a small dish that sat untouched near Noct. “Put that in your curry.”

“Ignis, it’s a vegetable.”

“Vegetables are good for you. Now, mix it in. Pickled radish is sweet, anyway. You’ll be fine.”

“If you say so,” Noct grumbled, adding one small piece of the bright red vegetable strips to his curry.

“Make sure you don’t get the scurvy out there.”

“The scurvy?” Noct asked Gladio, snorting with laughter. “I’ll be fine. I passed all my health examinations, didn’t I?”

Ignis sighed heavily and shook his head, lamenting. “Only because of our painstaking efforts. Take better care of yourself, Noctis. No one will be looking out for you there.”

Noct bristled, but he fought back the impulse to snap back. Ignis was right, after all, and Noct’s habits did have a way of inspiring concern. Taking in a breath, he met Ignis’ eyes and nodded solemnly. “I will. I’ll be looking out for the lady, and we’ll be sharing meals, so that means looking after myself, right?”

“I suppose that will do,” Ignis agreed, returning the nod.

“You should probably get used to saying her name,” Gladio added, taking a swig of beer. “You can’t keep calling her ‘the lady.’”

Noct flushed slightly and glanced away. He knew that, but if Gladio ever found out about the little crush he’d harbored for the popular woman for years, he’d never hear the end of it. The prince meant well, and indeed he was one of Noct’s best friends and like a brother. Sometimes that ‘like a brother’ part could be a pain. “I’m not planning on insulting her.”

“I should hope not,” Gladio laughed. “You’ll be our representative, after all. You represent me, and Father, and all of Lucis when you’re with her. Do us proud.”

“No pressure,” Noct mumbled wryly.

“Oh, I do believe there is quite a lot of pressure. No one ever tried to pretend otherwise.” Ignis smiled even as he delivered that rather brutal blow. “But you can handle it, Noct. We give you a hard time because we want you to be your best. You’re good, you deserve this chance, and you will do us all proud.”

Noct flushed again, unused to the praise. His chest welled with warmth and pride though, even as he was embarrassed. Gladio nodded and chimed in, seeing the way Noct hung his head a bit and ducked away from the approval. “Ignis is right. I’m being too harsh. It’s the night before you head out, I shouldn’t be stressing you out more. You’ve got this, Noct. You’ve worked hard to prove this point, and I know you’ll be great out there.”

Having the royal approval, having Gladio speak honestly, it helped immensely. He picked up his chin with a hint of that Caelum pride and managed something of a smirk. “Thanks, guys. I won’t let you down.”

[noexit-ff]

44. Part 2

Walking behind Chris making my way to our room, Chris has booked all of this so I don’t know what he has done “you want me to hold your bag for you” Chris asked looking behind him, smiling lightly at Chris shaking my head “this place is far out, I am tired of walking” we picked up the keys and we are still walking to the room “we are here baby, I wanted to get the best for us” watching Chris unlock the room door “I told some lies when I booked though, I mean they should have thought I am Chris Brown and we been married but no, they believed me” he pushed the door open “after you” he gestured, what has he done now. Looking down at the marble flooring “roses on the floor?” I chuckled “I said it’s our honeymoon, they believed it so they dumb as fuck” what is my husband like “I don’t know what they did though, I told you it’s a classy dick appointment like I said” following the line of roses “it’s sweet though Chris, I love when you do things like this. It’s romantic” looking around the bedroom “this is so nice” my smile grew “the bed is huge too, I am here for champagne though” placing my bag down and making my way to the bottle, I am going to open this now “no, wait” Chris held the bottle “don’t open it, we going out for some food first” pulling a face at Chris “really? I am not dressed for a meal, I still have what I wore for the game. I didn’t bring any dresses with me, why didn’t you say?” Chris shrugged, letting him place the champagne back in the bucket of ice “come, you look beautiful anyways” he held my hand pulling me back out of the room.

Chris has really thought this through “it’s so late, it’s only us two here” looking over at the beach front “I know, I paid them to keep it open for us” he said, I sighed out “it’s beautiful, the palm trees and the lights. You really making me the happiest wife in the world” I am going to give him a good night, he deserves “you deserve it, you deserve more than what I am doing. You gave me a whole new meaning like you said, I didn’t think when you told you was pregnant it would have changed me this way. I was a guy that was pretty lonely, I had nothing but the art I drew and people I paid for. I ain’t once thought of doing graffiti in our home, that’s our family home. Maurice has really changed me to be a whole different nigga, I just want to be at home. I don’t want trouble even though my past be chasing me, it’s still there but I am running, I will make it out of my past. I know it” Chris rubbed his chin, he has confused me now “how is your past still around? Why don’t I know this” Chris licked his lips smiling “I protect you Robyn, I don’t want that shit coming to you or making you think about me. Just some shit happened when I went to the studio a few days ago, you know. Sinko was there and I just felt like it was a set up.”

That stupid ass ex friend of his “you never admitted to what happened, you beat him didn’t you?” till this day he has never said it, I don’t know why he won’t say it “I did, I beat him. I was so angry, he was the guy that was setting me up, the same nigga that watched me take drugs, fucked myself over. I was just so mad, I beat him. It’s not a good thing but I did it, I don’t want to tell my wife I did that. I would do anything to protect you from any mess and stress. I am thinking on what to do but I don’t want to run away from them, I ain’t scared of them” he has only verified what I knew “I understand, I never liked the guy. Your other friends, they are stupid but not malicious. I felt it” I paused thinking “I used to cringe when I read about you being in these gangs, I prayed that nothing ever happened to you. I was angry at you but I never wanted to see you hurt, I don’t think you should hide like you said but you need to change everything he knew about you, every place you and him went too. Start from there” I will kill Sinko myself if anything happens to Chris “would you like to order now?” the waiter asked, let us do that now.

I keep staring at my phone, I want to ring my mom or Joyce to know about Junior but I got to trust them “this steak is nice you know” I said trying to side track my mind from my son and Chris and these people after him “you love having any meat in your mouth” Chris blurted out, my eyes widened as I blinked at him “wow! You know damn well the only meat I had in my mouth is yours. I didn’t have anything in my mouth” I corrected him “nah, I didn’t mean it like that. I was just saying” Chris does not think when he speaks “I was speaking about the steak Robyn, come on. I ain’t say it like that” he is such a liar “Chris, just stop. You’re making it worse, you did not mean steak at all. It’s like me saying you love having fish in your mouth” Chris tilted his head “let’s not” he said quickly “we both did shit but Adam, and the jew are two people that really got to me” sitting back in the chair “why? I mean with Drake. I did nothing with him, I didn’t even date him. You started talking to him at one point” Chris put his hands up “to get to you, you changed your number on me. I hate him because he threw it in my face, publicly he did it and you still ignored me. Y’all was having the time of your life at award shows, you threw it to my face. Then he took my chin and then you still fucked with him” Chris is getting ever so heated “it made money, I didn’t purposely do it. Drake was just fun but you got to understand you was in a really bad bubble, I saw everything but it happened and look at us now, just to add I never had any other meat in my mouth. I am rather picky with that” I had to add that because I am not some hoe like everyone wants to make me out to be.

Picking up Chris’ sneakers from the sand, it’s late at night and he wants to walk on the beach but has ran off to throw rocks in the water. Picking up my sneakers also and walking slowly along the beach, it looks so beautiful at night but also creepy “did you see how far it went?” Chris jogged back over to me “no, I was busy seeing the weird guy down there staring at us” Chris took his sneakers from me “come” Chris turned his back towards me “let me carry to your destination queen” side eyeing him, he leaned down further “come on, climb onto me” rolling my eyes “what if you can’t carry me? My thighs might crush your ribs with your skinny ass” I know for a fact I am thicker than I am “shut up, just get on top” he really wants me to, wrapping my arms around his neck and my legs hooked around his waist. Chris stood up and grunted out “wow, put me down” I spat, Chris busted out laughing “I am joking, you’re good babe and I am sorry about earlier. On god I didn’t want you to feel that way” Chris apologising, look at him “it’s ok handsome, I just want to leave our past in the past, where it belongs” pressing a kiss to the back of Chris’ head “it does, I don’t think I would have settled down. I know for a fact I would be lost, the only love of my life is you” tightening my arms around his neck, my face pressing just against the side of his face “do I feel a little heavy? Admit to it please, I know I am” Chris just laughed “you have more meat on you which I love, my meaty wife” he is so stupid, meaty wife.

Chris finally put me down “yo, my back” Chris placed his hand on his back “wow, don’t play. That is fine, we won’t have sex” Chris ran ahead of me “noo, I am good look I am running” I knew it “yeah, yeah. Just open the door baby” getting my phone out from my pocket “your mom called me, it’s late over there. I hope they are ok” calling Joyce back, Chris held the door open for me as I walked into the room “I bet Junior is awake for me, he wants daddy talk” Chris said behind me “it’s ok sweetie, you shouldn’t have called back. He fell asleep now, he kept on crying and not drinking his milk. Monica and I was losing our minds but we put music videos on of you and Chris and he remained quiet and drank his milk and then fell asleep” I breathed out a sigh of relief “he is ok right? Not in pain or upset?” my poor baby boy “he is fine now, he felt content seeing you both on TV and even hearing your voices. It comes in handy” smiling wide “he is missing us, well I will leave you both to it. Thank you for being there for us and him” slapping Chris’ hand away, I won’t have him undress me just yet “it’s ok good night” smiling lightly “night” disconnecting the call “my baby boy misses us while his dad is busy undressing me” Chris does not care, he wants me in that bed “I just need the toilet, wait” Chris is like a dog with a bone.

Robyn needs to quit playing and just let me fuck unless she don’t want to fuck, I mean why not. I got roses, champagne, I took her out to eat, this is annoying and I am bored of looking at Instagram. I miss Robyn filling my timeline full of pictures of Maurice. I might just get naked and wait on the bed for her. Tapping on the camera “are you taking a shit!?” I half shouted “I ain’t about to give you anal ma’am? Come on Robyn!” she mad annoying and taking so long “you got the shits!?” I rather she just told me “shut up!!” she screamed back at me, flicking the camera to my face and pressing record, sighing out “currently in Hawaii, with a bed full of rose petals” picking some of the petals at the side of me “waiting for Robyn for ten minutes, she ain’t even come out of the bathroom, I have been waiting for this night for months!!! I love my son with all of my heart but I need it, and when you know your wife’ body is so good. On god Rihanna’ body is so bomb naked and she ain’t giving me shit. I am bored too, I will document part two if I don’t get any” stopping the recording and typing out out a caption ‘Don’t have babies!!!’ pressing send, we going back to LA if she playing with me like this. The bathroom door unlocked finally, the door flew open and she stepped out of the bathroom. The biggest grin grew on my face, my eyes flowed down Robyn’ body with the tightness growing in my pants.

Robyn placed her leg just above the arm rest on the chair “do you like my outfit?” she smiled leaning down allowing her hair to flow down, I feel ever so thirsty. Blinking my eyes as I licked my lips, she has freshly had her pussy waxed. The two piece set made from sheer lace, the bra quarter-cut cup which made her boobs pour out, they barely fit, the suspender thong which is crotchless which let me catch a glimpse of heaven, those heels finish it off perfectly “you should have said” my voice sounding hoarse “you was all screaming and shouting, now you’re quiet. Well surprise baby” she placed her leg down “I want you to sit on this, come here” she gestured me over, she ain’t got to tell me twice. Nearly tripping over myself as I got off the bed “calm down” I was about to kiss her “I said sit down, not kiss me” she is killing me inside, walking around the chair and sitting down silently.

She came to stand right in front of me, placing her hands on either side of the chair armrest. She leaned down so our faces were only inches apart, my eyes jetted down to her cleavage before returning to her face “you bought this for me?” I asked, she bit into her bottom lip and nodded “just for you” my eyes went to her teeth as they scrapped against her lip, my lips parted as a small groan escaped me, I want her so bad. she brought her right hand to my stomach and started to walk her fingers up my body with each of her words “this… is… all… for… you” she reached my collarbone, she only let her index finger touch my skin. She slipped it up to the centre of my throat and under my chin, she brought her mouth to mine, stopping just before she touched my lips “all for me” I whispered “for you” she said just against my lips.

Robyn moved back from me, she is so bad “where are you going?” I said through gritted teeth, just watching her booty cheeks jiggle, she grabbed the bottle of champagne “a little thirsty” she ripped the foil from the top “shiiiit, I am too thirsty, damn. You playing with me, you can’t be walking around and not allow me to get a piece of the cake” Robyn popped open the bottle, Robyn shrugged as she drank from the bottle. Her legs are so long, her thighs get thick as you travel up. Robyn walked over to me, placing her legs on either side of me as she sat on my lap. She placed her hand just under my chin “open up” opening my mouth and my eyes never leaving hers, she poured the contents into my mouth. She moved the bottle back and wrapped her arms around my neck, swallowing down the contents and placing my hands behind her back. Pressing a kiss to Robyn’ neck but she moved back from me “what are you in the mood for” she keep running away I am about to pin her ass down “your pussy on my face, that is what I want” I straight up said “so it’s my choice” she said totally ignoring what I am saying.

Robyn twirled back around “okay then” Aaliyah - Rock The Boat started playing, I am here for this because I didn’t think she was going to do anything at all. When Robyn finally walked her beautiful ass over to me she straddled my lap, with her hands on the back of the chair. She leaned forward, letting her breasts brush against my chest. She then turned and sat down fully on my lap, she leaned back so she is pressed against my chest and turned her face into my neck while her hips grind in slow motion. The friction of her ass against my erection felt so unbelievable good, dry humping never felt so great. My head went back, my eyes shut and his mouth dropped open in a moan. She swirled her hips in time with the music, she blew air across my neck and made me shiver. Grinding myself against her “I just want to be inside of you so badly” her crotch rubbing right against my erection, she slipped off of my lap and onto her knees.

I am not even going to speak a word because my wife knows what she is doing, it’s been so damn long that I am going to explode at her lips just pressing kisses against my tip. She curls her fingers around my member and opens her mouth wide, sticking her tongue out in the process, teasing the tip. My hands clenched into a fist as Robyn took me into her mouth, this feeling I yearned for so long. Robyn slides her lips down my length, trying to swallow me whole. Robyn gagged slightly when my dick hit the back of her throat and she tried to pull away, but I held her head firmly in place. Robyn looked up at me, her hazel eyes beginning to water from the strain and whines deep in her throat. The dick in her mouth twitches against the flat of her tongue, heavy and hot, until I allow Robyn to slowly pull away. She purposely leaves the head of my dick nestled between her lips, feeling her tongue swirl around me.

“Ah, Fuck Robyn” I moaned out, running my fingers through her hair. I thrust my hips gently into Robyn’ mouth, loosening her stroking hand around my base and sucking more softly. I moaned out loudly when I watch just how much Robyn’ lips stretch to take all of me in her mouth. Her lips are puffy and red, but the best part is the eye contact Robyn gives. Her hazel eyes are hooded and wide “oh fuck, I am going to cum” Robyn moaned around my member, stroking me as she sucked. Feeling my member tremor, my toes curl and I came into her mouth “oh my” I moaned out, Robyn still sucking my member as I came.

I am done with Robyn’ teasing ass, I want in “I’ll be nice” I mumbled as I leaned down and kissed Robyn’ lips, my tongue finding hers, tangling with it as my free hand went to her hair. Robyn tugged at my tee, pulling it up “I just want you inside of me now” Robyn said yanking my tee off “you sure don’t seem it at times” pecking Robyn’ lips as I moved down her neck, a smirk played on my face as her breath got caught in her throat. She is now feigning for it, Robyn’ breathing hitched as I barely did anything. I started sucking on her neck, my fingers slid inside of her core. I slowly thrust my finger in and out of her, as she arched her back. Moving back from her neck, slowly kissing down her neck. Pressing kisses onto her chest and reaching above her boobs, my finger still thrusting inside of her “Chris!” Robyn moaned out, sucking on the skin just above her boob, feeling Robyn’ hands on the side of my head looking up at her letting the skin between my lips go. Robyn pulled me up, latching her lips onto mine as we kissed.

I quickly bared her breasts “I have been after these for so long” I openly admitted, these are the biggest I have seen them “the booty jiggle and titty jiggle are a blessing” Robyn placed her hand over her mouth “stop it” she said “wait” placing my hands together looking up “thank you god for making Robyn’ boobs larger than life, I feel ever so spoilt with the meal I will be having” feeling Robyn yanking at my arm “I swear to god” I snorted laughing, leaning down and closing my lips over her nipple “don’t you dare bite me, I need releasing anyways” moving my head back staring at Robyn “what now?” I am amazed “that is legit milk? How? Why can’t this be a lifetime thing? I am in shock. This shit is sweet, nah. I am shocked” I am amazed that her boobs have milk in them “I need to have this on my cereal, damn Robyn” she is amazing “does it taste like Barbados?” Robyn questioned “better than Barbados, this is heaven. I feel like when I die and I go heaven, this is the milk I will be having” Robyn busted out laughing “I love you, oh god” she said through her laughter. I leaned down and sucked again while she laughed, running my tongue around to sweep up all of the hot liquid that flowed out. With a few more pulls, I swallowed the liquid down before flicking the tip of my tongue over her swollen bud.

Robyn pulled me down to kiss her, my tongue tangled with hers before slowly dancing down her neck and then back to her lips. Robyn moaned into my ear, her arm going around my neck. Wrapping her legs around my waist, rubbing herself against my member. My tip grazing against her clit “who’s being a tease now? Stop it” Robyn knows I am playing now “just wanted to get you back, I can see the frustration on your face though” without a warning I slowly slid into her groaning out as her walls closed around me instantly “daddy is back home” I mumbled as I held her gaze, slowly thrusting “you don’t even feel different, pussy popping back into action” Robyn yanked me down for a kiss to shut me up locking her legs around my hips driving me into her as deeply, I sped up my thrusts inside of her. Robyn’ lips moved back from mine, her head fell back as she moaned out. Kissing on Robyn’ neck as every stroke is causing Robyn to let out a scream, I drove into her faster and faster, sucking her neck, leaving marks on Robyn everywhere “fuck!” Robyn shouted out, her hand on my hip as I slowed my pace.

“My bad” I smirked at her, slowly thrusting into Robyn “it’s ok” she placed her hand on my neck “keep going” she said, leaning down kissing her lips, sucking onto the lower lip as I continued to slam into her. My one hand gripping her breast, squeezing and kneading, as the other hand held her hip still to keep Robyn from bucking her hips, making me cum before I was done satisfying her “flip us over” Robyn said after biting my bottom lip. Flipping us both over “what happened to you doing it?” she can usually do it “not tonight” I watched her from below “ok, I am going to enjoy this” my hands on Robyn’ hips and her ass as I thrusted into her as fast, I am going to cum but I don’t want too. Robyn let her hands roam over her body, groaning and moaning. Her tongue slowly sliding over her lips as she looked down at me, clenching my jaw “fuck, I’m gonna cum” I can’t hold off anymore, my dick began to throb and pulse inside of Robyn, she decided to clamp tightly around me “ah fuck Robyn” I moaned out, she is milking me completely, pulling Robyn down on top of me and wrapped my arms around her tightly, just holding Robyn there for a moment before looking into her eyes as I pressed a kiss to her lips “I love you” my dick is still throbbing “I love you too” she wiggled out of from under me “round two” I am riding you and you don’t move or I will leave you hard, Robyn about to torture me.

[professortennant]

mark me as yours (a tdbm, jean/lucien fic)

soulmate AU for @marcuskaen

jean-centric, 3577 words

Today was Jean Randall’s 18th birthday and she was finally going to find out if Christopher Beazley was her soulmate. They were all but engaged and Jean thought the world of him. Strong, smart, hard-working, and handsome, he was everything Jean could hope for in a husband and soulmate. 

No one understood the science of soulmates. At 18, your body took on the marks of your soulmate’s: every scrape, cut, tattoo, burn, and bruise. Luckily, the pain your soulmate experienced was not inflicted on you as well. Experts assumed 18 was the time of the marking because childhood was too filled with cuts, scrapes, and bruises to have an accurate reading. 

Christopher had been 18 for a few months already and hadn’t experienced any markings on his body, so the hope that she was his soul mate still burned within her. 

Dressing quickly and skipping breakfast, Jean dashed out the door and practically ran to Christopher’s family farm. Christopher greeted her at the door with a chaste kiss to her cheek. His hands were warm and clammy. So, they were both nervous. 

“You ready?”

Jean nodded, smiling reassuringly. Christopher led her into the kitchen and sat her down at the table, grabbing a small paring knife off of the counter and sitting next to her. Her heart was hammering in her chest as she wrapped her fingers around the handle and pointed the blade at the tip of her finger. 

“Wait!” 

Christopher took her hands in his, pressing a kiss to the back of them. “Jean, just know that whatever happens, I still love you. I still plan on marrying you. I plan on building a life with you.”

Jean smiled softly and cupped his face. “I love you, too. But, I just can feel it, Christopher. This will prove we are soulmates. Watch.”

And with that, she turned the blade towards her finger and made a small, one-inch incision. She hissed in pain, sucking at the blood, before eagerly turning Christopher’s hands over, searching. 

But there was no mark. His smooth remained completely clear. 

With a sinking heart, Jean realized how wrong she’d been. Christopher wasn’t her soulmate at all. Eyes stinging with tears and swallowing her disappointment, she held Christopher’s hands in hers. 

“Christopher....” She sighed. “I understand if this does change things for you. Really, I---”

But Christopher was holding a gold and emerald engagement ring out to her. “Jean Randall, I told you I loved you and wanted to marry you and I meant it. If it doesn’t matter to you, it doesn’t matter to me. So Jean, will you marry me?”

Jean stared at the ring and Christopher’s earnest face. What did it matter if he wasn’t her soulmate? He was good and decent and kind and would protect and provide for her. 

“Yes.”

Their marriage was a happy--if not stressful--one for many years. They worked hard on the farm and faced obstacles in their relationship that many would have crumbled under. The town frowned upon their marriage. The biddies gossiped, “But they aren’t soulmates. It can’t last.”

Jean Beazley loved proving them wrong. 

While Christopher had never experienced any marks (and they both wondered at those implications), Jean had been dreading the day her body became marred with anything more serious than a few bruises.

She distantly wondered if her soulmate saw the stretch marks she had acquired with each of her pregnancies. Wondered if he felt jealous or lost or forsaken knowing his soulmate was bearing another man’s children.

And then the day came that she experienced her soulmate’s marks--real, significant marks.

It was Christopher who found them first, leaping out of bed and holding his hand over his mouth in shock. “Christ, Jean...” His eyes lingered on her back and shoulders, shaking his head. 

Jean pushed the covers off and leapt out of bed, twisting to look in the mirror. She felt her stomach clench in shock and her mouth dried. Her back was covered in angry, red, criss-crossing lines.

Her heart felt icy at the thought of her soulmate, whoever he may be, experiencing the pain that came with these marks. Battling back tears, she turned to her husband--her wonderfully unblemished husband. “Christopher, these are whip marks, aren’t they?” He nodded, still staring in horror. “Are you okay, dear? We both knew this day may come...”

But Christopher was already crossing the room to smooth his hand over her marks. “So, you have a soulmate out there.” Jean wanted to comfort him, to tell him she was as good as his soulmate, that it didn’t mean anything. And yet a part of her was still thinking about the man on the receiving end of these whips...

Pushing past her, Christopher left the room and started in on the farm’s chores. He resolved to not linger on her marks and to simply enjoy the time he shared with Jean. After all, they shared a beautiful life together and beautiful children. 

But the marks kept appearing on her skin. Before the marks of the previous day could fade, new ones came. Burn marks on her forearms. Bruises mottled her knees and thighs and buttocks. Her fingers were discolored and scraped as if they had been broken. And every day, the whip marks across her shoulders doubled. 

Jean couldn’t think beyond what her soulmate was going through. Torture. Her soulmate was being tortured and Jean was helpless to stop it. Would she feel it if he died? Would the marks just never go away if he died wherever he was?

It was these marks that ultimately drove a wedge between her and Christopher. 

“Jean, all you do is talk about these marks. I understand they’re upsetting, but you can’t even feel them! You don’t even know the man on the other end of these marks. Our life is here. We promised each other on our wedding day that we were choosing each other over soulmates. That we were making a choice. Have you changed your mind, now? Do you want to go find this man? If he’s even still alive?”

Jean felt an irrational sense of anger towards him. “Christopher! This man is being tortured. Look at this!” She thrust her arms towards him. “These are bloody brand marks. They’re branding him. I think, I think he’s a soldier. He must be. How else do you get these kinds of marks? Certainly not as a farmer.”

Christopher reeled back as if she had slapped him. “Is that what you want from me, Jean? To get myself my very own set of marks?”

“What? No! Christopher, don’t be ridiculous! Wait, Christopher!”

But Christopher was already storming out the door without a look back at her. 

Three days later, he was fully enlisted and being shipped off to the front. 

Jean resented the marks now. They had eased over the course of a few months but she now wished more than ever she could have some sort of connection to her Christopher.  She felt confident, however, that if something truly terrible happened she would know. Somehow, she would feel it. 

Two days later, the army showed up and informed her that her Christopher--her husband--was dead. Not only that, but that he had died months ago. 

The army officers long since departed, she trudged up the stairs with heavy, lead legs, locked herself in her bedroom, and drew the blinds, encasing the room in darkness. She didn’t want to see the marks. Not right now. Not ever again. 

Losing Christopher was a hot, searing pain across her heart. If this is the pain that accompanied losing her husband, she never wanted to experience the pain of knowing, loving, and losing her soulmate. 

For the first of many nights, Jean cried herself to sleep. 

Since losing Christopher, the marks had long-since disappeared. Her soulmate, wherever he was, appeared to be safe. At least for now. Jean took a small comfort in that. 

Still, every once in a while Jean woke up to swollen lips, scabs and cuts on her face, and black eyes. Her soulmate was a fighter--literally and figuratively. A distant part of her wondered if her soulmate and Christopher ever met on the front.

Jean kept the farm running as long as she could on her own with Christopher Jr. and Jack’s help, but she eventually sold the farm and took up a position as housekeeper for Dr. Thomas Blake. 

In addition to providing care to the residents of Ballarat, Dr. Blake dabbled in soulmate science and found himself fascinated with Jean in particular. 

“My dear,” he managed between coughing fits. “A woman forsaking a life with her soulmate for a man of her choosing! I’ve never heard such a thing. It’s wonderful. Absolutely wonderful.”

Jean blushed, embarrassed, and tilted his head forward so he could sip at the cold water. “I just didn’t want my life dictated by something no one understands.”

Dr. Blake nodded, still fascinated by this mysterious woman. She was unlike many women in Ballarat and he adored her. She listened to his theories on the science behind soulmates with a keen ear as she dusted and cleaned his room, brought him meals, and helped him organize his patients’ care. 

“So you see, my dear Jean, I think in a way, if a person was brave enough--or stupid enough--to use this ability, they could actually carve a message to their soulmate through their skin. I truly can’t believe it hasn’t been done yet. At least, not a documented case.”

Jean shook her head, “That’s barbaric! What kind of moron would do that?”

The elder Dr. Blake let out a croaky laugh, thinking that he knew exactly someone who would do that. 

“You’d be surprised what desperate men will do.”

That night, Jean found out her soulmate was a moron. As she readied herself for bed, Jean noticed the bright red scratches carved into the top of her left thigh.

Who r u?

Jean stared at the message. The words were crudely etched into her skin and she appreciated the fact that her soulmate was at least smart enough to save himself some pain and shorten the words when possible. 

But there was no way in hell she was carving a message into her own skin. Not even for her soulmate.

Smoothing lotion over the marks, Jean felt pleased to know he was at least alive. Even if he was an idiot.

Dr. Blake’s condition was worsening a little every day and Jean grew anxious at the thought of losing him as well. She had come to care for Dr. Blake very much and she knew his loss would be felt deeply. 

Today his son, Lucien Blake, would be arriving to say his final goodbyes and begin arranging things for his move back to Ballarat. He was all set to take over the surgery and Jean felt more than a little miffed this Lucien Blake thought he could simply swan in and take over. 

The knock at the door surprised Jean. He was early. Tucking the ends of the blanket around Dr. Blake’s feet, Jean hurried to the front door and was met with quite a sight. 

The young Dr. Blake was--and there was no other word for it--handsome. Slicked curls, wide shoulders, blue eyes, and a gorgeous three-piece suit. He smiled at her and offered her his hand in greeting. “Hello! I’m Dr. Lucien Blake. I’m here to see my father and see to some business of settling the surgery and moving back in. I’m looking for a Mrs. Beazley? She’s the housekeeper, I believe.”

She looked at his offered hand, confused. “I am Mrs. Beazley. Or, Jean, if you prefer.”

He looked her up and down, eyes lingering on the hollow of her throat and the curve of her hip. Jean shifted from foot to foot, uncomfortable under his scrutiny. She crossed her hands over her chest. 

Lucien laughed. “Bloody hell, from the way my father talked about you, he sounded as if he was half in love with you! Not that I can’t blame him, look at you, I just thought, well, that you’d be older!”

She didn’t know if she should be offended or not. Then, he was leaning down and grasping her hand in his in greeting. Jean stifled a gasp. There was a heat to their handshake, a feeling of electricity and connection shooting from her fingertips to the top of her arms. She searched his face, wondering if he felt it too.

But his face was still smiling and jovial. No sign of shock or wonder. Maybe it was just her. Maybe it was just the first touch of a handsome man since Christopher...

Pushing aside the feeling, she stepped out of the doorway and gestured for him to come in. “Please, Dr. Blake, do come in. Your father is just down the hall in his bedroom. Leave your bags! I’ll take them.”

Brushing past her, Lucien’s hands lingered over hers. “Thank you, Jean. And please, it’s Lucien.”

Lucien Blake was an absolute mystery to her. On the one hand, he was charismatic and charming. She often found herself getting wrapped up in his stories of Singapore--a land she had only dreamed of visiting. Lucien was also exceedingly warm towards the people of Ballarat, treating each of them with kindness and warmth. 

Other times, he was strangely mercurial. His moods swung with the amount of whiskey he’d drank or the number of nightmares he’d had the previous nights (oh yes, she heard his screams at night). 

His interactions with the elder Dr. Blake were even more curious. They were equal parts nostalgic and warm, hostile and bitter. Jean thought there was perhaps too much history between them to resolve in the short time they had left.

After one such bitter encounter, Jean followed Lucien out of the room and watched as he punched the wall in frustration before escaping to the kitchen for a drink. Jean shook her head, sadly. The man really did drink too much.

The next morning, Jean thought nothing of her slightly swollen and bruised hand. There wasn’t time to consider it.

Dr. Blake had passed away.

The weeks after the elder Dr. Blake passed away, Jean and Lucien went their separate ways. Grief manifested differently for everyone. For Lucien, it was escaping to The Colonists’ Club for a few drinks. For Jean, it was an overwhelming need to be alone and hidden away. The first night, she sat in Dr. Blake’s study--Lucien’s study, now--and breathed in the smell of pipe tobacco and leather. With gentle sobs, Jean snuggled into his chair and fell into a restless sleep. 

When she awoke, there was another crudely carved message into the top of her thigh. 

R u there? I feel alone.

She ran her fingers over the message and wondered at what her soulmate was going through, wondered if it was because they were soulmates that their feelings were so closely aligned.

Taking a deep breath, Jean grabbed the letter opener with shaking hands--her mind flashing back to a paring knife and a kitchen table all those years ago--and with gritted teeth, she replied. 

I’m here. 

The blood bubbled over her skin with each scratch and yet, she welcomed the pain. It was something besides numbness, at least. In a strange way, his message had lessened her loneliness and she hoped her soulmate felt the same.

As Lucien and Jean both healed from Dr. Blake’s passing and began to move on and settle into a new routine, there appeared a new problem: Lucien and Jean were terribly attracted to one another. 

Lingering hands, brushes of fingers against cheeks, teasing smiles, outrageous flirting. 

Each day her control slipped a little more and she found herself gravitating towards him, just wanting to be near him. Lucien found himself doing the same: rubbing her shoulders, hand at the small of her back, whispers in her ear.

Jean needed to put a stop to it before this--whatever this was between them--boiled over. Slipping into his office in between patients, Jean sat in front of his desk. 

Lucien smiled at her, “Jean! Was there something you wanted?”

Jean took a deep breath and decided the direct approach was the way to go. Lucien liked directness. “Yes, actually. I don’t think it’s just me who is feeling this,” she gestured between them. “This pull between us. And as enjoyable as the flirting is, we need to stop.”

Lucien leaned back in his chair, frowning. “Oh?”

She nodded. “Lucien, I have a soulmate somewhere. And I’ve already lived a life with a man who was not him and I just don’t think I can do that to my soulmate again. Nor to the memory of my Christopher. I hope you can understand.”

Lucien nodded slowly, hand stroking his beard. “I see. Very reasonable.” He laughed, a hollow laugh, and reached for the scotch and tumbler on his desk. “Did you know,” he started, pouring himself a generous drink. “Did you know that I also have a soulmate?”

Jean shook her head, wondering where he was going with this. Lucien was usually so closed-lipped about his past, particularly anything remotely personal. “I didn’t know that. Where is she?”

Taking a large gulp of scotch, Lucien smacked his lips. “No idea. She’s the most ridiculously careful woman I know. I know she had children, for sure. The bloody stretch marks were a surprise.”

Jean thought to herself that at least that question was answered. Somewhere out there, her soulmate had also felt her stretch marks. 

“But whoever she is...she didn’t wait for me. I don’t blame her, of course. I’m just about the worst soulmate you could ask for. I wouldn’t want to be saddled with me either.”

Her heart clenched oddly at that. It hurt her to hear Lucien speak so dismissively of himself. He couldn’t see how wonderful he truly way. Even when he was being moody. 

She watched as Lucien drained his glass and pushed himself away from his desk and walking around to her side of the desk, reaching down for her hand and tugging her up to stand in front of him. 

“I understand that you don’t want me, Jean. My own soulmate didn’t want me. So, consider the flirtations stopped. On my honor.”

Jean opened her mouth to argue with him, to comfort him, but Lucien was already shuffling her out the door and then the door was being closed in her face. Seconds later, Jean heard the sounds of glass smashing against a wall. 

Sighing to herself, feeling oddly dismissed and sad, Jean headed for the closet to pull out the broom and dustpan. Ridiculous, mercurial man.

Reaching into the closet, Jean started at the deep gash that spread across her whole palm. It had been the first mark since that night with the letter opener and Jean felt the familiar sense of relief that her soulmate was once again alive somewhere, even if he wasn’t with her. 

Grabbing the broom and dustpan, Jean headed straight for the study and opened the door. The sight inside stopped her dead in her tracks. 

There, standing over a pile of shattered glass, stood Lucien. His hand was dripping blood, a large gash stretched across his palm. Jean’s hand burned with the realization. 

The feeling of heat and electricity at their first touch. The undeniable connection they had. His soulmate had children. His hand held a gash in the same place as hers. He thought she didn’t want him.

The broom and dustpan dropped to the floor and Lucien’s head shot up, looking at her, shamefaced. “Oh Jean, I’m so sorry. I’ll clean this up, don’t worry--”

But Jean was busy crossing the room, heels crunching on the glass, and flinging herself into his arms. She pressed her lips to his, desperate, sloppy, eager. This was her soulmate. This stupid, infuriating, handsome, impossible man was hers--all hers. 

Lucien’s hands wrapped around her, hauling her up against him and deepening the kiss. She broke away and leaned her forehead against his and slid down his body. 

Lucien sighed, happily. “Jean, love, not that I’m complaining, but I’m getting some mixed messages here.”

Wordlessly, Jean held her palm up for his inspection. Lucien stared at the gash before raising his own, bloodied hand up. Shaking, he pressed their palms together and sighed. 

“It’s you.”

She nodded, entwining their hands together. “It’s me.”

Lucien tugged her impossibly closer and tucked her under his chin, swinging them side to side slightly. Jean knew they had a lot to talk about. The memory of those horrifying marks were still burned into her mind and she wanted to ask him about them. She knew he must have questions for her about her life with Christopher. 

His words from earlier haunted her: My soulmate doesn’t want me.

Holding him tighter, Jean silently vowed to him that she would spend the rest of their lives proving him wrong.

[red-the-dragon-writes]

I was tagged by@natalieironside and then also by@borinquenaqueer XD

my words are fight, love, queer, confusion, and sword from the first batch and electric, bruise, hands, empty, and ache from the second :D

I'm tagging @chokopoppo @dragon-swords-prophecies @greatshell-rider @0ptiimus @honestlyvan and anyone else who wants in uwu. Your words are shudder, twisted, bright, lost and water. :D

Cut for length.

FIGHT:

“(...)Sorry about standing you up for lunch.” “It’s alright. I don’t think I would’ve enjoyed your company much. You beat up Felyx?” “To be fair, I’ve beaten Felyx up a few times.” “He’s a shrimp. It’s like beating on a chihuahua.” “He’s like double your size.” “Yes, but I could snap you in half without breaking a sweat, and we both know it. Felyx is a… well. He’s Felyx.” “He’s no slouch. He just wasn’t hitting me back.” “I wouldn’t’ve wanted to hit you back either. It sounds like you were having more of a meltdown than a real fight.” “Shh. Kings don’t have meltdowns.” “Of course, your majesty. Do you prefer temper tantrum?” “If it gets you to stop calling me titles.” “You’re going to really need to get over that.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Yes.” “No.” “Go write your speech,” Merox said. “And you can make earlier up to me with dinner.”

LOVE:

“You shouldn’t punch people. It’s not nice.” “I’m not nice.” “It’s mean.” “I am mean. I kill people.” “You’re not mean. You’re Rex.” “Fuck off. Yes I am. I’m super mean. And scary.” “No you’re not.” “Yeah I am. I scare people. Because I am scary.” “Then they’re cowards, because you’re lying here with your face in a bowl of ice cream mumbling into the table. That’s not very scary of you.” “This is your fault,” Rex said again. “No, it’s your fault,” Felyx said, and yawned. “If you really didn’t want to go out so bad, you should’ve just not come out.” “I hate you.” “I love you too, Rex.” “I hate you so much.” “I know you do, Rex.” “You’re the worst friend ever.” “I know that means you love me.” “It does not,” Rex lied halfheartedly. “It means you’re the worst and I hate you. Obviously.” “Obviously,” Felyx agreed. “Let’s get you home before you pass out.” “I’m not going to pass out,” Rex said weakly, and then he passed out.

QUEER: somehow not in the document in spite of the fact that this cast is like practically bowl of honey nut queerios lmao. i'm genuinely surprised.

CONFUSION: also not in the doc so I just went with "confused" lol

“I didn’t know that,” said Felyx. “Merox, did you know that?” Rex glanced over to the doorway. Merox was conspicuously absent. She must’ve left. “I didn’t,” he said after a second into their confused pause. “But, no, no, that’s perfect. That’s perfect. Have the messenger stay for the banquet, put him with the table with Karth, let him enjoy the food and watch the show. And we’ll send him back with the bishop’s head. Telvar, do you know which bishop?” “Ha. No. But you can probably ask.” “Right. I can probably ask.”

SWORD: (note: gory violence in this snippet)

“My name is Rex,” Rex said, his voice sounding disappointingly weak to his own ears. He took another breath and started again, louder. “I killed Lord Deiya, the immortal. I took their heart from their chest.” At this he withdrew the still-glowing blue crystal orb from his coat and held it above his head. It twinkled merrily in the light. “This is the object that was keeping them alive. I’m pretty sure they’re still alive in there. But they are no longer here among us, and I was the one responsible.” He paused. There were so many people. “For—for those of you who can’t see, and for the record, because I know someone is taking notes, the heart is a blue orb. It glows. Uh, kind of pulsatingly, like a heartbeat. It looks like a crystal, I don’t know. I don’t describe things for a living, and if I did, I wouldn’t be here today.” He lowered the crystal and then slipped it back into his pocket. He crossed his hands behind his back to avoid fidgeting. Fidgeting would show he was nervous. Showing that he was nervous would make him look weak. He did not want that. “The head of Lord Deiya will be visible later, to prove the veracity of my claim. And this should also prove it,” he said, stepping to the side, as Merox led the first nobleman, chained by the wrists and pale with fear, onto the platform. Rex drew his sword. “Let this serve as a statement of intent. Deiya’s last vestige of control over this country ends right now.” He brought the sword down in a perfect, clear, shining arc. The head separated from the body beautifully, a perfectly clean separation, and as the blood fountained into the air Rex turned back to the crowd. Behind him, Merox pushed the body off the stage and placed the head on a small table intended for that very purpose. Evidently they hadn’t expected the bloodshed to have happened so quickly, or maybe they hadn’t expected it at all. It was as though the entire crowd was holding it’s breath. Fuck, did he fuck that up? It was a flawless execution. What were they waiting for?

ELECTRIC: not in the document. I should fix that; it's a good descriptive word lol. Alas... high fantasy :(

BRUISE: (also violence in this one)

“Yeah, and every country on our border is watching us like a hawk watches a baby rabbit, you utter troglodyte?” “What the fuck is a troglodyte, you disolix motherfucker?” “If you’re going to start calling me snake insults,” Telvar started, and Rex slapped him hard in the jaw. He hadn’t really meant to, really, but this was just a fucking annoying conversation and he wasn’t going to have it. “What’s a troglodyte?” “You hit me.” “I sure did. Don’t call me a snake. What is a troglodyte, Telvar?” “I don’t really know,” Telvar said, rubbing his jaw. “You really had to hit me in the face?” Rex shrugged. “You’re wearing like six rings on that one hand. This is going to bruise.” “It’s not going to bruise, don’t be a pussy.” Even as the words left his mouth he realized he was wrong. There were already red marks beginning to bloom on the side of Telvar’s face beneath his stubble. Whoops. “Tell me what a troglodyte is.” “I don’t really know,” Telvar said, still rubbing his face. “It’s just a thing. What’d you call me?” “Unlucky.” “Unlucky?” “I mean, it doesn’t really mean,” Rex said. “It kind of means you’re in the negative sevens, I mean, it’s… hard to translate, okay? I would’ve used an english word if there were an english word for what I meant.” “And you had to hit me over that.” “No, I hit you because…” Rex stopped. “I don’t know. Weird day. Sorry?” “Good fucking god,” Telvar muttered. “Listen, have we reached any kind of accord on this conversation? At all? Can I go get a fucking ice pack?”

HANDS:

And then the moment was over and he was kneeling on the floor half naked in his own bedroom alone all tied up in a fucking tunic, for fuck’s sake. He was being menaced by a tunic. How utterly embarrassing. He tore the fucking thing off of him as though it burned and managed to get his pants off as well, trying to keep his hands from shaking even though there was no one to even watch his weakness, since he was alone and in his own goddamn bedroom, and then he went and stormed his way into the bathroom and turned on the bath and sat down in the lovely, stupid, completely unnecessary, heavenly hot water that there was no good fucking justification for him to even have and let himself just sit there, relaxing, in the steam and the water. He closed his eyes and leaned back, the candlelight shining red through his eyes, and for the first time in what felt like days he finally just took a breath and—relaxed.

EMPTY:

The countryside would’ve been pretty if it weren’t so flat and empty. Here it was all plains, lashed by the wind and drowning in rain, dotted with farms and otherwise pretty much just a wasteland of grass and wildflowers. Rex hated it, but that was what it was like here. A whole lot of nothing and then a city at the middle where the worst parts of the world came together to be even worse. And he’d taken over it, for some reason. What was he thinking? But he’d already done it, so he couldn’t quit now.

ACHE:

He stumbled his way into Deiya’s quarters, because after the day he’d had he was desperately looking forwards to sitting down in Deiya’s utterly ridiculous, frivolous, fucking amazing wonderful stupid heated baths, and had just about made his way through the door when Zero Point, appearing seemingly out of nowhere, grabbed him by the shoulder. Upon him came a sharp whiff of leather and the smell of pine trees, which was at once strange, because there were no pine trees around for miles, and frankly nostalgic. “Rex! Just the man I wanted to see. Do you have a second—oh, damn, you don’t look so hot.” “Ha,” Rex said. “I don’t feel so hot. What are you after?” “Oh, you know, Merox and I have some things to discuss with you, but you were busy all day.” “Can it wait? My head aches like nobody’s business. Why are you even awake? What is it, midnight?” “A little after,” Zero Point said. “What, were you coming to sleep?” “To bathe, and then to sleep. —why are you looking at me like that?” “Where are you sleeping now, Rex?” Zero Point said, voice condescending. “In… Deiya’s bed?” “No. Do you remember what keeps happening when you sleep in these quarters?” Abruptly Rex remembered what on earth Zero Point was talking about. “It slipped my mind. If you were looking for me, and I was supposed to be on the servants’ levels, though, why are you here?” Zero Point laughed faintly. “I was—really, I was just going to slip some papers under the door and hope you found them in the morning. I’d rather do this in person, but, you know, I rather assumed you’d be asleep.”

i love that the "heated baths are not praxis" thing has come up twice. rex buddy you didn't put them in and it'd be more expensive to take them out than just use them, please chill for one minute lmao.

[xandernonbinaritterton]

Stop being offensive!

I don’t like offensiveness. It’s not fair that some people should have their thoughts and feelings hurt. Who are you to challenge their thoughts and feelings? You don’t know what it is that is right! You are wrong, cissie!

Whenever I hear a scumbag fuckhead saying something horrible, like “there are two genders,” it hurts me. It hurts me like a three-pronged fork, with one point in each of the three glands: the oestrogen gland, the pineal gland, and the Gay Gland (it’s the gland that makes you gay from birth, and, yes, everyone has one. Even you. Even the old one/twos have one.) These people don’t deserve “free speech” – because these people are wrong.

That’s what Stan Richardson said in school the other day. He turned around to face me in the middle of English Literature (we’re reading act four of Macbeth, it’s good because Shakespeare wrote Lady Macbeth to be a wommyn) and he says to me, “there are only two genders.”

THE SPOON-WHIPPING FOOL HE IS! “Stan,” I bellow,  “that’s really offensive. I cannot believe you’d say such a thing. I cannot! I cannot believe you’d say this sort of thing! There’s more than two genders, Stan! There’s infinite genders! And anyone can be non-binary. So it’s not too late to convert!” And with that last part, I drew a “Become Non-Binary Today” leaflet from the inside of my cute anime leather jacket and slapped it against his desk. I didn’t let go of it at first, I just slapped it against the edge of the desk, then slapped it again and again, whilst Stan watched me with a blank face. It took me four slaps to finally let go of the document.

“I cannot believe you’d do something offensive like that, Stan. I cannot. I cannot believe you would be offensive! Try not to be offensive next time you twist your freakish meatie head 180o around to face me, with the rest of your body still facing the front of the class,” (he actually does this and it’s super gross) “and be offensive!” To which the ugly bastard responded, “free speech! Free speech!” And so on.

But it’s irrelevant that he hammers on about this so-called “free speech.” Even if such a thing were to exist, it wouldn’t matter, because he’s wrong! The fellow is wrong!

He has his free speech, but he is using it to dispense stupidness. He cannot have his free speech and eat it too!

An offensive person is a stupid person. Of course it is. There are too many genders for their stupid brains to count!

See, that’s what wrongness is: stupidness. Some people are just too stupid to know what’s the right thing to say, and because of this, they go ahead and foolishly offend people, like the wolfish fool thing that they are in their very spirit, right in the brain-cells that bound them to stupidness! Oh, only if they were not raised to be such foolish beings! Then they would have the freedom to be non-stupid!

And if such a cis-brained wolfish fool is reading this, here I shall say to you, give it up! Drop the wooden-spoon!

Offensiveness = stupidness

Respect = smartness = freedom for all the genders = opening borders for all non-binaries = mass immigration of gender refugees

No-one gets offended in Heaven. In Heaven, no-one’s offended, because there’s no-one wrong. See, that’s what Heaven is: a place where everyone is a correction, and the incorrections are to be tossed aside into the bubbling Hell-pit beneath them. Avast, faggot!

[symbianosgames]

Thomas Brush is the sole creator of Pinstripe, a TKDESCRIPTION which launched on Steam April 24th. Thomas scored, illustrated, designed, and developed Pinstripe over the course of five years. Thomas is also the creator of award-winning Flash games Coma and Skinny.

I’m laying in bed writing this postmortem at 1:42 pm in the afternoon. The blinds are closed and my room is a gloomy gray. Ever since I launched Pinstripe, my game about Hell, I've experienced just about every stage of grief. And why has it been raining all week ever since launch?

Sorry to sound moody, but completing Pinstripe left me empty and completely out of energy, both physically and emotionally. This postmortem is coming at an overwhelmingly burned-out time in my very young career in the games industry. I would never, and could never, do this again — make a game completely alone over the course of 5 years. As I see the Steam sales slowly drip in, I’m still in a death spiral of strange highs and lows regarding the reason why I chose to make this game to begin with.

The start of Pinstripe felt different — a lot different:

[embedded content]

I was 5 years younger, passionately pounding away on my brand new MacBook purchased with cash earned from my glorious Flash game years. I was in the basement of Clemson University’s library in South Carolina, building a game that was going to shake the world. Thanks to the Indie Game documentary, I was positive I was going to be the next Edmund McMillen. I was going to be an indie legend.

That was the initial spark, and then it turned into an obsession for really no reason other than to make a great game. I wanted to make games full-time, and I would stop at nothing to do so. Three years later I would be married, a Clemson University graduate, and working in a cubicle as a graphic designer for tire and plumbing hardware companies. During lunch hours I would stuff my sandwich down fast, and eat pretzels while trying to finish my game. Little did I know it would take five full years (one of those years as full time work) to finish it. This was partly because I was so anxious to get work done, I wouldn't really think twice about what I was doing.

God help me. Looking back is tough.

My final burst of energy was spent on the Kickstarter campaign sent straight from Heaven. More on that later.

But in the midst of crossing the finish line, I'm instantly thinking: what was that all about?

1) Music

Pinstripe's soundtrack was the easiest thing to create, and I feel it is the most valuable element. It was super fun to write, didn't take too long, and fit the mood of the game. What more could I ask for?

[embedded content]

2) Unity

Unity was the first decision I made prior to development, and at the time it wasn’t a no-brainer like it is now (I'm willing to have an honest discussion if you disagree). Regardless of what software you choose, remember that revenue potential does not stop at Steam. Because of Unity, revenue can extend to pretty much any platform you’re willing to build for. Pinstripe has been through so much QA that fortunately a release on another platform is likely just a couple months away. Additionally, Unity was easy enough to learn, but I was also not-so-smart about how I was building things. Without getting into too much detail, most of the code and plugins used from two years of work was completely overhauled and rewritten. Some of the more recent plug-ins used in Pinstripe (Spine, InControl, Steamworks.NET) are super easy to use, and I’m not sure what I would have done without them. 

3) Constructive Criticism

The IGF judges of 2015 did not really like Pinstripe. I'm glad they told me — so much in the game was severely flawed. From flat characters to pointless, drab puzzles, within a day I learned through email feedback that Pinstripe was not ready for launch. Not at all. You know the feeling: you think you’re done with your game, and then suddenly realize you probably have another year or two before launch. It’s a sinking feeling like none other. It’s the worst. But I bit the bullet, printed out the comments, and slapped them on my office wall. I read them pretty much every day, and would pace my office explaining their solutions to George (my pup). I’m proud to say the game is 100x better because of this feedback.

4) Made With Unity mini documentary

In late 2015, this random film guy from Los Angeles emailed me one day and wrote “Hey do you want to be in a documentary about Unity?” That night I went crazy and drove to my parent’s house and told them “Your son is going to be in a documentary.” I felt like the coolest kid in South Carolina. This random guy was Ben Proudfoot, a super accomplished film producer who was hired by Unity to document various Unity projects. What I mean is, make indie devs look really, really cool. Ben and his crew flew to my house in the suburbs and we shot for a couple of days. I think the coolest moment was when the crew had millions of dollars worth of film equipment sprawled throughout my house, and they just acted like it was no big deal while I stood staring with my mouth open. When it was all said and done, it was awesome to see the final product plastered on the screens at the Game Awards, and ever since then, Pinstripe has had generally good press coverage, and my confidence level was boosted enough to keep going. Oh, and to my next point: Unity let me use the documentary to help build my Kickstarter campaign a couple months later.

[embedded content]

5) Kick-freaking-starter.

I love it! Pinstripe would have never been finished without it's Kickstarter campaign. It’s kind of odd to think about, but last year, when the Kickstarter finished I thought to myself, “100K. Do I really need 100K to finish this thing? I’m basically done with the game.” I was certainly wrong. In the game industry, and especially in the indie game field, it’s so easy to underestimate the amount of work and money involved in getting a project off the ground. That said, regardless of what I thought, it sure felt good leaving my desk job for good to pursue my dream career. It felt so good.

Here’s how it went down: I’m eating my lunch in private in the dark basement at the marketing agency I worked for for three-years (I was pretty depressed during these years), and I hit the launch button on Kickstarter. Within the hour, I think about 6 grand was raised. It was at that point that I knew I was out of there for good, and onward to starting my own full-time game studio. Eventually over 100K was raised, and it was a euphoria I wish I could experience again. I’m so grateful to my backers on Kickstarter, because I know without a shadow of a doubt I would have never released Pinstripe without them.

SPECIAL BONUS THING-THAT-WENT-RIGHT: My Wife

I don’t cry very often. But last night, I was listening to Such Great Heights by The Postal Service (my wife and I used to listen to this when we first met before even Coma was released in 2010), and I began to struggle to hold back tears. I didn’t want my wife to see me, so I ran outside under the night sky and began to weep. I feel stupid saying it, but knowing why I was crying doesn’t make me feel so bad: Kelsey stuck with me through the ups and downs of making Pinstripe, and I would have cracked and quit if she didn't believe in me. She eventually came outside and we just talked about how crazy the journey has been. Making games is mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. For most indie game devs, they are likely working day jobs and pursuing their dream of making games under gloomy lamp-light in cheap apartments. This often interferes with basically everything involved in a normal life: friends, family, partying, recreational stuff, etc. College for me consisted of thinking about Pinstripe in class and working on Pinstripe in my apartment or the library at night. Through it all, I had a dedicated cheer-leader shouting me to the finish line.

1) Media Coverage

I’m assuming I don’t have to go into the importance of getting noticed. I struggled to get coverage during the last two years of the development of Pinstripe, and launch day was no different. A  TIME article gave the game a 5/5 on the day it came out, but a good chunk of reviews for Pinstripe came a bit later than I expected. I can't quite say with confidence this effected the game's launch in any way, but it certainly concerned me. Everyone involved in the launch strategy hit the ground running months before launch, sending a bunch of Steam keys and trying to engage the Kickstarter community, but we honestly got hit with some bad luck. Outlast 2, Little Nightmares, and the Mario Kart 8 Deluxe all launched around that week. We tried so hard to find the perfect window, and that’s the week we landed on. Pretty frustrating, but I think a long-term strategy for any game is likely more effective anyway. I’m still crossing my fingers for a healthy shelf-life for Pinstripe.

2) Project Management

I wasn’t the most scheduled or organized person during the first years of Pinstripe’s development. I recall scrapping full scenes from the game without a thought, and rebuilding game-play mechanics from scratch because they were broken, rushed, and boring. I don’t recall creating a single story-board, I never wrote out the plot, and began coding puzzles before researching how to do it effectively. It’s a lot of fun saying “Pinstripe took 5 years” but what I haven’t really said is that most of that was wasteful, ignorant development. Fortunately, I feel I made it out of the messy production unscathed, because Pinstripe is generally bug free, healthy and well-received on the Steam store. But again, it took five years. Five years is too long, and it will likely take a fifth of that for my next game thanks to something called planning. I think the first concept I drew was two years in:

3) Money 

I’m still living on a reasonably thin salary, but I’m fortunate that the salary is generated by game-development. For three years, the money I was making was from a full time gig as a designer, so most of my time was not making Pinstripe. When I was making Pinstripe, I was tired and fighting to find motivation. What if you spent three year working out and you didn’t gain a single pound of muscle? Sometimes it felt like that. On top of that, I didn’t have a ton of great equipment, and illustrated Pinstripe’s scenes on a laptop screen. I can’t remember when this happened, but I recall a photo of me on my laptop working on Pinstripe posted by Unity, and someone mentioned the shot being faked because nobody makes games on a laptop. I think at that point I decided it was time to get a bigger monitor. Overall, having a tight budget basically limits your game's quality across the board. QA, localization, ratings, high quality graphics, great music, marketing, and a somewhat lengthy game all cost a great deal of money. I’m grateful some money eventually came when it did, because I desperately needed it.

4) Unity Script

Don’t use UnityScript to make your Unity game. Every time you save a UnityScript file, it takes an unholy amount of time to compile into Unity as opposed to a C# file, and the support for it is not great. The folder structure for Pinstripe is ridiculous and bizarre because of UnityScript. I have a folder called “Zippy Scripts”.

Yes, it’s called “Zippy Scripts". 

I needed a folder labeled with a Z so that it was at the bottom of my project hierarchy (for sanity), and I also needed a folder that was compiled fast and last. The explanation here is likely convoluted, but by year four I had so many UnityScript classes that the compile time was taking F-O-R-E-V-E-R. I ended up moving all my scripts into a folder that didn’t compile every time I hit “save”. The problem here was in order to reduce compile times I had to move my UnityScripts next to C# scripts in relation to their compilation, meaning any C# classes could not access the UnityScripts. At this point, I was desperate, and created “translation” classes. Ones that were in a folder that allowed for variables to be passed between classes written in different languages. I know, this makes no sense. But it worked. Metaphor: it's as if I placed the final card onto a house of cards and for some reason, the card itself stood up straight and didn’t fall over. At this point, I just said “I don’t know why it works but it works” and left it. So now the compile times are faster, but if I could do it again I’d use C#. Hands down. It’s just faster.

5) Advice

I’m not going to go into specifics, but plenty of advice was thrown from all directions about Pinstripe over the course of it's 5-year development. Some of this advice was taken because of fear, other times because it came from genuine friendships, and other times I took it because it was from “professionals”. I don’t quite know what the rule of thumb here is, but I’m formulating something. I think, for me, you should compare people’s advice with your gut feeling built from experience. In my case, I sometimes trusted people who had lots of “experience”, when in reality, I potentially had more. This sounds petty and I’m sorry if it does, but it’s certainly important for indies who lack confidence to understand.

I feel a sense of relief, a sadness, and a sudden spirit of adventure — I have no idea what lies ahead, but I have a feeling it’s going to be really fun. I can’t say right now what that whole experience was about. Lately, I've been wondering if it was just some silly teenage dream that manifested into an obsession. Who knows. Time will tell. As for future projects, I have this game idea in my head, and I can’t wait to get it out. I’m excited to start and tell no-one. The secret feeling of starting a project and it being only yours is very special. I guess that was really the fuel for Pinstripe: a feeling of making something awesome, with 100% of it coming straight from my heart, and no-one could tell me no.

[symbianosgames]

Thomas Brush is the sole creator of Pinstripe, a TKDESCRIPTION which launched on Steam April 24th. Thomas scored, illustrated, designed, and developed Pinstripe over the course of five years. Thomas is also the creator of award-winning Flash games Coma and Skinny.

I’m laying in bed writing this postmortem at 1:42 pm in the afternoon. The blinds are closed and my room is a gloomy gray. Ever since I launched Pinstripe, my game about Hell, I've experienced just about every stage of grief. And why has it been raining all week ever since launch?

Sorry to sound moody, but completing Pinstripe left me empty and completely out of energy, both physically and emotionally. This postmortem is coming at an overwhelmingly burned-out time in my very young career in the games industry. I would never, and could never, do this again — make a game completely alone over the course of 5 years. As I see the Steam sales slowly drip in, I’m still in a death spiral of strange highs and lows regarding the reason why I chose to make this game to begin with.

The start of Pinstripe felt different — a lot different:

[embedded content]

I was 5 years younger, passionately pounding away on my brand new MacBook purchased with cash earned from my glorious Flash game years. I was in the basement of Clemson University’s library in South Carolina, building a game that was going to shake the world. Thanks to the Indie Game documentary, I was positive I was going to be the next Edmund McMillen. I was going to be an indie legend.

That was the initial spark, and then it turned into an obsession for really no reason other than to make a great game. I wanted to make games full-time, and I would stop at nothing to do so. Three years later I would be married, a Clemson University graduate, and working in a cubicle as a graphic designer for tire and plumbing hardware companies. During lunch hours I would stuff my sandwich down fast, and eat pretzels while trying to finish my game. Little did I know it would take five full years (one of those years as full time work) to finish it. This was partly because I was so anxious to get work done, I wouldn't really think twice about what I was doing.

God help me. Looking back is tough.

My final burst of energy was spent on the Kickstarter campaign sent straight from Heaven. More on that later.

But in the midst of crossing the finish line, I'm instantly thinking: what was that all about?

1) Music

Pinstripe's soundtrack was the easiest thing to create, and I feel it is the most valuable element. It was super fun to write, didn't take too long, and fit the mood of the game. What more could I ask for?

[embedded content]

2) Unity

Unity was the first decision I made prior to development, and at the time it wasn’t a no-brainer like it is now (I'm willing to have an honest discussion if you disagree). Regardless of what software you choose, remember that revenue potential does not stop at Steam. Because of Unity, revenue can extend to pretty much any platform you’re willing to build for. Pinstripe has been through so much QA that fortunately a release on another platform is likely just a couple months away. Additionally, Unity was easy enough to learn, but I was also not-so-smart about how I was building things. Without getting into too much detail, most of the code and plugins used from two years of work was completely overhauled and rewritten. Some of the more recent plug-ins used in Pinstripe (Spine, InControl, Steamworks.NET) are super easy to use, and I’m not sure what I would have done without them. 

3) Constructive Criticism

The IGF judges of 2015 did not really like Pinstripe. I'm glad they told me — so much in the game was severely flawed. From flat characters to pointless, drab puzzles, within a day I learned through email feedback that Pinstripe was not ready for launch. Not at all. You know the feeling: you think you’re done with your game, and then suddenly realize you probably have another year or two before launch. It’s a sinking feeling like none other. It’s the worst. But I bit the bullet, printed out the comments, and slapped them on my office wall. I read them pretty much every day, and would pace my office explaining their solutions to George (my pup). I’m proud to say the game is 100x better because of this feedback.

4) Made With Unity mini documentary

In late 2015, this random film guy from Los Angeles emailed me one day and wrote “Hey do you want to be in a documentary about Unity?” That night I went crazy and drove to my parent’s house and told them “Your son is going to be in a documentary.” I felt like the coolest kid in South Carolina. This random guy was Ben Proudfoot, a super accomplished film producer who was hired by Unity to document various Unity projects. What I mean is, make indie devs look really, really cool. Ben and his crew flew to my house in the suburbs and we shot for a couple of days. I think the coolest moment was when the crew had millions of dollars worth of film equipment sprawled throughout my house, and they just acted like it was no big deal while I stood staring with my mouth open. When it was all said and done, it was awesome to see the final product plastered on the screens at the Game Awards, and ever since then, Pinstripe has had generally good press coverage, and my confidence level was boosted enough to keep going. Oh, and to my next point: Unity let me use the documentary to help build my Kickstarter campaign a couple months later.

[embedded content]

5) Kick-freaking-starter.

I love it! Pinstripe would have never been finished without it's Kickstarter campaign. It’s kind of odd to think about, but last year, when the Kickstarter finished I thought to myself, “100K. Do I really need 100K to finish this thing? I’m basically done with the game.” I was certainly wrong. In the game industry, and especially in the indie game field, it’s so easy to underestimate the amount of work and money involved in getting a project off the ground. That said, regardless of what I thought, it sure felt good leaving my desk job for good to pursue my dream career. It felt so good.

Here’s how it went down: I’m eating my lunch in private in the dark basement at the marketing agency I worked for for three-years (I was pretty depressed during these years), and I hit the launch button on Kickstarter. Within the hour, I think about 6 grand was raised. It was at that point that I knew I was out of there for good, and onward to starting my own full-time game studio. Eventually over 100K was raised, and it was a euphoria I wish I could experience again. I’m so grateful to my backers on Kickstarter, because I know without a shadow of a doubt I would have never released Pinstripe without them.

SPECIAL BONUS THING-THAT-WENT-RIGHT: My Wife

I don’t cry very often. But last night, I was listening to Such Great Heights by The Postal Service (my wife and I used to listen to this when we first met before even Coma was released in 2010), and I began to struggle to hold back tears. I didn’t want my wife to see me, so I ran outside under the night sky and began to weep. I feel stupid saying it, but knowing why I was crying doesn’t make me feel so bad: Kelsey stuck with me through the ups and downs of making Pinstripe, and I would have cracked and quit if she didn't believe in me. She eventually came outside and we just talked about how crazy the journey has been. Making games is mentally, emotionally, and physically exhausting. For most indie game devs, they are likely working day jobs and pursuing their dream of making games under gloomy lamp-light in cheap apartments. This often interferes with basically everything involved in a normal life: friends, family, partying, recreational stuff, etc. College for me consisted of thinking about Pinstripe in class and working on Pinstripe in my apartment or the library at night. Through it all, I had a dedicated cheer-leader shouting me to the finish line.

1) Media Coverage

I’m assuming I don’t have to go into the importance of getting noticed. I struggled to get coverage during the last two years of the development of Pinstripe, and launch day was no different. A  TIME article gave the game a 5/5 on the day it came out, but a good chunk of reviews for Pinstripe came a bit later than I expected. I can't quite say with confidence this effected the game's launch in any way, but it certainly concerned me. Everyone involved in the launch strategy hit the ground running months before launch, sending a bunch of Steam keys and trying to engage the Kickstarter community, but we honestly got hit with some bad luck. Outlast 2, Little Nightmares, and the Mario Kart 8 Deluxe all launched around that week. We tried so hard to find the perfect window, and that’s the week we landed on. Pretty frustrating, but I think a long-term strategy for any game is likely more effective anyway. I’m still crossing my fingers for a healthy shelf-life for Pinstripe.

2) Project Management

I wasn’t the most scheduled or organized person during the first years of Pinstripe’s development. I recall scrapping full scenes from the game without a thought, and rebuilding game-play mechanics from scratch because they were broken, rushed, and boring. I don’t recall creating a single story-board, I never wrote out the plot, and began coding puzzles before researching how to do it effectively. It’s a lot of fun saying “Pinstripe took 5 years” but what I haven’t really said is that most of that was wasteful, ignorant development. Fortunately, I feel I made it out of the messy production unscathed, because Pinstripe is generally bug free, healthy and well-received on the Steam store. But again, it took five years. Five years is too long, and it will likely take a fifth of that for my next game thanks to something called planning. I think the first concept I drew was two years in:

3) Money 

I’m still living on a reasonably thin salary, but I’m fortunate that the salary is generated by game-development. For three years, the money I was making was from a full time gig as a designer, so most of my time was not making Pinstripe. When I was making Pinstripe, I was tired and fighting to find motivation. What if you spent three year working out and you didn’t gain a single pound of muscle? Sometimes it felt like that. On top of that, I didn’t have a ton of great equipment, and illustrated Pinstripe’s scenes on a laptop screen. I can’t remember when this happened, but I recall a photo of me on my laptop working on Pinstripe posted by Unity, and someone mentioned the shot being faked because nobody makes games on a laptop. I think at that point I decided it was time to get a bigger monitor. Overall, having a tight budget basically limits your game's quality across the board. QA, localization, ratings, high quality graphics, great music, marketing, and a somewhat lengthy game all cost a great deal of money. I’m grateful some money eventually came when it did, because I desperately needed it.

4) Unity Script

Don’t use UnityScript to make your Unity game. Every time you save a UnityScript file, it takes an unholy amount of time to compile into Unity as opposed to a C# file, and the support for it is not great. The folder structure for Pinstripe is ridiculous and bizarre because of UnityScript. I have a folder called “Zippy Scripts”.

Yes, it’s called “Zippy Scripts". 

I needed a folder labeled with a Z so that it was at the bottom of my project hierarchy (for sanity), and I also needed a folder that was compiled fast and last. The explanation here is likely convoluted, but by year four I had so many UnityScript classes that the compile time was taking F-O-R-E-V-E-R. I ended up moving all my scripts into a folder that didn’t compile every time I hit “save”. The problem here was in order to reduce compile times I had to move my UnityScripts next to C# scripts in relation to their compilation, meaning any C# classes could not access the UnityScripts. At this point, I was desperate, and created “translation” classes. Ones that were in a folder that allowed for variables to be passed between classes written in different languages. I know, this makes no sense. But it worked. Metaphor: it's as if I placed the final card onto a house of cards and for some reason, the card itself stood up straight and didn’t fall over. At this point, I just said “I don’t know why it works but it works” and left it. So now the compile times are faster, but if I could do it again I’d use C#. Hands down. It’s just faster.

5) Advice

I’m not going to go into specifics, but plenty of advice was thrown from all directions about Pinstripe over the course of it's 5-year development. Some of this advice was taken because of fear, other times because it came from genuine friendships, and other times I took it because it was from “professionals”. I don’t quite know what the rule of thumb here is, but I’m formulating something. I think, for me, you should compare people’s advice with your gut feeling built from experience. In my case, I sometimes trusted people who had lots of “experience”, when in reality, I potentially had more. This sounds petty and I’m sorry if it does, but it’s certainly important for indies who lack confidence to understand.

I feel a sense of relief, a sadness, and a sudden spirit of adventure — I have no idea what lies ahead, but I have a feeling it’s going to be really fun. I can’t say right now what that whole experience was about. Lately, I've been wondering if it was just some silly teenage dream that manifested into an obsession. Who knows. Time will tell. As for future projects, I have this game idea in my head, and I can’t wait to get it out. I’m excited to start and tell no-one. The secret feeling of starting a project and it being only yours is very special. I guess that was really the fuel for Pinstripe: a feeling of making something awesome, with 100% of it coming straight from my heart, and no-one could tell me no.