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wiypt-writes · 4 years

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Murder, He Wrote

Part 1

Co-written with @southerngracela

Summary: You’re sent by your asshole boss to do a review of a Celebrity Host Haunted Mansion, hosted by none-other than the arrogant, wild-eye browed actor Lucas Lee, but you’re worried you’ve missed the boat…that is, until at the last minute, an email arrives to say they can let you in on the last admission that night, which just happens to be Halloween… When you arrive, you’re actually kind of excited and intrigued…but it isn’t long until that excitement and intrigue give way to fear when you find yourself in a helpless situation.

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

A/N: So this is a collaboration between myself and the wonderful @southerngracela for @jtargaryen18 ‘s Haunted House 2020 challenge…and will be a mini-series, with an as of yet undefined number of chapters.

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Disclaimer: This is a pure work of fiction and by writing it does NOT mean I agree with or condone the acts contained within. This fiction is classified as 18+. Please respect this and do not read if you are underage. I do not own any characters in this series bar reader and any other OCs that may or may not be mentioned. By reading beyond this point you understand and accept the terms of this disclaimer.

Murder, He Wrote Masterlist // Main Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"I can't even get in, not even with a press pass, I've been trying for two weeks, Mick!” you looked at him, your mouth slightly open. You’d told him this countless times at morning briefings. You hadn't even heard back from the organizers about sneaking around the press pass issue and offering an exclusive on the joint, a small fact you kept Mick in the dark about.

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

You glared at his retreating form. What the fuck did he not understand about the situation? Mind you, what did he understand about anything? There was a reason everyone working for him called him Mick The Prick.

There was also a reason he was being extra prickish to you. Earlier in the spring time of the year you’d run an article on Ransom Drysdale- the stuck up, trust fund asshole who had literally gotten away with murder. He’d confessed to murdering his grandfather’s house keeper, attempting to murder his grandfather and then, in a violent showdown with 2 police officers and a private detective present, he’d attempted to murder his grandfather’s nurse, Marta. And he would have succeeded, except the knife he’d used had been a stage prop. It was like some fucked up Murder, She Wrote plot, and when you’d interviewed the real life Jessica Fletcher (in this case the rather charming PI named Benoit Blanc who’d been a character to say the least) it got even more confusing. Ransom had hired Blanc in some elaborate scheme to frame Marta for Harlan’s death to do her out of the inheritance via the Slayer Rule. That had back fired spectacularly when she had unwittingly switched back the vials of medication Drysdale had tampered with, meaning Harlan had truly committed suicide.

The article was supposed to be done showing his side of the story, a way for him to set the record straight, but the more you’d dug and spoken to people surrounding the case, the more you were absolutely convinced of his guilt, not least because he’d been acquitted on the murder and attempted murder charges on technical grounds due to his confession being, allegedly, obtained under duress and without a brief being present. The only thing they’d managed to pin on him was the arson which had burnt the Chief Medical Examiner’s office to the ground, and when his brief had successfully argued mitigating circumstances- he wasn’t of sound mind given the shock surrounding him being cut from his grandfather’s will- he’d basically ended up being released on license.

It was a joke, and that was basically what your article had said. You’d written a scathing attack on how money could basically render you untouchable by the law, highlighting the failures of the Criminal Justice System. At the time, Mick the Prick had been delighted with it, publishing it under your suggested head line “Murder, He Wrote”- ha, go figure, and copies had flown off the shelves, the article online going viral.

And then money had talked once more, and the Drysdale’s had threatened to sue for defamation. That in itself was a joke, as you knew full well his mother, Linda, was only doing it to salvage her own reputation, the same reason she’d worked so hard to find a lawyer to get him off the charges despite the fact she knew full well he was guilty as sin. Mick The Prick had attempted to throw you under the bus spectacularly when the board had come looking for blood, but as editor the buck stopped with him, and he was given a formal warning whilst you were forced to publish a retraction and offer a written apology much to your utter chagrin.

Which was why he was now making your life as hard as possible, and your Investigative Journalism skills, that you’d honed over the last decade; from high school paper, college tribune and now your current employer, over the last 10 years or so since graduation were now being focussed on covering stories about housewives who found Jesus’ face in a slice of toast, or in this case a fucking Celebrity Host Halloween Haunted House review. Whereas you had dominated the first 2 pages once upon a time, you were now lucky if you made it further up than page 11.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

By the end of your day, you were burning what felt like the midnight oil however it wasn't very late at all. Dark had settled in but it wasn't late by time. Just before you were to log off and leave for the night, a TV dinner and pint of mint chip waiting for you in your freezer (and probably a job search too seeing as you would no doubt be fired tomorrow morning for failing on your deadline) your email pinged on your desktop. You frowned at it, wondering who could possibly be emailing you this late but then you recognized the sender.

It was the reply you'd been waiting on from the organizers from the Celebrity Host Haunted House. Clicking the email open, your eyes scanned the message. The organizer was setting you up with a private tour, TONIGHT. "9 pm," you finished reading aloud, relief flooding your entire body. It meant a long assed, sleepless night whilst you wrote your article, but it was better than the looming threat of unemployment. Plus, on the upside, as it was a charity gig the organizer had pulled out the big guns and the blurb on the email told you that it was to feature none other than Lucas Lee, a once-upon-a-time famous A-List Movie star, who was possibly just as arrogant as Hugh Ransom Drysdale, but you had to give it to him, in the films you’d seen he was actually damned good, and also pretty hot so…every cloud.

Glancing at your clock, you had just enough time to clock out and grab a quick bite at a drive thru on your way. The location was nearly an hour outside the city so you needed to get gone and fast. A quick reply telling the organizer you were on your way was sent out and you grabbed your coat, pulling it on over your sweater dress and were gone.

It took a good hour like you'd estimated and that was with stopping for a quick meal, to reach the address your GPS brought you to. It was creepy even at its first glance so you could only hope this payed off. With a quick swig of your watered down and flat fountain drink, you grabbed your bag and phone, exiting your vehicle and locking it shut. The cool night air bit at your exposed cheeks and you were glad you'd worn your coat and tights.

As you stood, gazing at the dilapidated house you shivered, as though, ice had replaced you spine. The walkway leading up to house was cracked, blood red roses grew wildly in thick batches by the gate and the moonlight cast a ghoulish glow on the house. Vines formed a twisted maze upon the side of the of the house's walls which showed the black decay of neglect, in between which splotches of original paint hinted at the house’s former prosperity. Cobwebs covered the corners of the doors, tiny black spiders threading towards their prey and you gave another shudder, as far as first impressions went, yeah, it was fitting for a Halloween Haunted House tour.

Pulling out your phone, noticing you had no reception (of course you wouldn’t, wasn’t that the cliché?) you took a few photos to use in the article and then gave a little squeak as the door creaked open on its own. Arching your eyebrow slightly, in a manner very much like the man you were here to meet, you strode forward and into the house. Immediately a musty, dank odour crept into your nose. The house was deadly silent except for the intermittent creaks and moans typically associated with a property that age. Black and brown mold dotted the ceiling of the tall hallway you stood in and the windows that framed the door on either side were covered with grime and dirt meaning the calm moonlight struggled to penetrate the darkness in thin thread rays, the main source of light being the open doorway. Sharp shadows roamed around the room and as your eyes adjusted to the dim light you noticed that there was a bright white envelope almost perched on the wooden table to the side of the hall. It was the newest thing in the room, so was obviously there for you.

You crossed over, the heels of your suede boots clicking loudly out in the silence of the hallway, and gently reached out for the envelope. A single word- Start- was written on the front in cursive, looping scrawl, very fitting for a spooky note. Another detail you committed to memory for your write up. You slid your finger into the crook of the envelope and slid it open. Inside was a small, white card, containing a message written in the same writing.

To ensure that you don’t become tomorrow’s big news, In this envelope you’ll find the first of 6 clues Of your super sleuth skills you should be proud, So make sure that you read your answers out loud. As one by one they lead to your ultimate demise. Which may or may not be a scary surprise…

Okay, now you were interested. This wasn’t just a walk through some scary assed, supposedly haunted house where Lucas Lee was no doubt set to jump out at you in some ridiculous disguise. This was a scavenger hunt, and your natural inquisitiveness was piqued. 'This could be fun', you thought as you reached for the next card that was in the envelope, reading the first clue.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but, not enough to prevent cold

You pondered for a second, heat was leading you to think of a fire, and they certainly grew shorter with time, well eventually when they burnt out…but then again, the longer they went the hotter they got, and they certainly prevented the cold. Scanning the hallway for anything that might fit the description, your eyes flicked up to the ceiling which held an elaborate, but tarnished candelabra style chandelier. And then it hit you. Tall when young, short when old.

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

At that the door leading to the outside slammed shut behind you, and you gave an involuntary scream as the dominant source of light was sealed off. You spun round to look at it, and then your scream turned in to a laugh as you shook your head, for an Investigative Reporter you prided yourselves on steely nerves but so far that was twice this adventure had caught you off guard.

A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

“Oh come on…” you muttered, “That’ ones obvious. Knife, the answer is knife…” You picked up your phone and shone it around the various surfaces of the kitchen and your eyes honed in on a wooden knife block containing a solitary knife. You crossed the room towards it and as you closed in on it, you noticed that the handle of the knife was an ornate silver filigree. It was no ordinary kitchen knife and as you pulled it form the block you realised it was in fact a dagger, antique by the looks of things. The blade was curved slightly, reaching a sharp point, the silver tarnished. But the more you looked at it, the more you suddenly became horribly aware that it wasn’t merely a dullness of colour at all. It was blood.

“Dramatic…” you mumbled, and with a sigh you then realised there was no clue attached to it. Was this a distraction? A decoy? You were just about to stat ransacking drawers to find the actual knife you needed, when you glanced back at the block the dagger had been held in and noticed a flash of white peeking from underneath. Picking it up and moving it aside you smiled as you saw the same cursive writing, spelling out the word three. Seeing as you might as well play along, you used the dagger to slit the envelope open, tossing it back down on the counter as you read the next clue.

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

You fell silent, your mind racing to how the hell you were going to find a piano in this decrepit and yet enormous house. Then, your ears heard it. The subtle note from deep inside the house. It was a single key. But now that wasn't your concern, no, it wasn't the mice or the bugs or even the brown water. Your heart raced at the notion that someone was in fact in the house with you.

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room.

The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

“Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat.

“Window. It’s a window.”

Usually, at that point, something happened to point your attention to the place you should be looking but this time, there was nothing. Instinctively you looked out of the one on the wall by the piano, but as you stared at nothing but the darkness outside you realised that was too obvious. Just then your ears picked up a sound you couldn’t quite figure out, but it was familiar all the same. And then it came to you, it was the familiar click and clack of a skateboard, the wheels gliding over the brittle old floor and you span round in the direction it was coming from to see a window you hadn’t noticed before, this one was an ornate, stained glass window which bore some kind of flower design that faced directly out into the hall.

He passed by slower than a flash but just enough to allow you to catch only a glimpse. You audibly gasped, your breath coming in a sharp intake of fright, because until then you had been alone on this chase. But it appeared you dramatic host had finally come out to play. He was merely a shadow, bulky in frame, tall and dressed all in black as he moved past but it was enough to puzzle you. You didn’t remember Lucas being that broad, or tall. With a frown you ran into the hall to catch him but saw nothing, and heard nothing, the only thing to indicate he had been there was a faint smell of the cedar and amber of what you assumed to be cologne.

You paced quickly down the hall in the direction the figure had gone but as you passed the stairwell the light flickered on, instantly attracting your attention. You’d only briefly noticed the ornate staircase before, but with the lack of light you certainly hadn’t noticed the writing on the wall, dripping in fresh paint. Swallowing, as you mouth suddenly felt dry with fear you stepped onto the first stair, and as soon as you did you were plunged into almost complete black. Letting out a shriek as, once again, he’d managed to get the drop on you, you shook your head and reached for your phone, taking another few steps up so you were level with the next clue which you read aloud.

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize.” You bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination.

Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Alongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby.

You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

This room was a little lighter thanks to a lamp which stood on a nightstand. It wasn’t bright, by any means, but it was enough so that you could clearly see the bed in the middle of the room. And there, placed by the pillows was a thin box. On unsteady legs, you shuffled slowly towards the bed, the box before you making you quiver, your insides churning. A shaky hand tilted the lid open slowly, afraid something would pounce in a sneak attack. You shut your eyes ready to protect them in case a bat or bugs flew at you and when nothing happened, you opened them slowly and inspected the boxes contents. There was no envelope this time, just copy of a newspaper. Your newspaper. And you felt your blood run cold as you recognise the bold headline across the top. Murder, He Wrote: A twisted tale of Inheritance, Crime and Exoneration "Drysdale," you whispered in realization. But now, while you were well aware of what the article meant and who it was referring to, your brain shut down processing how on earth Lucas Lee and Ransom could possibly be connected. Your breathing deepened and you moved to pick up the article, but then the lid to the box caught your eye and you froze, for on the inside of the lid was another clue, only this one was a straight forward question which was spelled out using cut-out letters from the newspaper in question.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath. And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

When Y/N went limp in his arms, Ransom laid her across the bed only leaving the room to hurriedly cover his tracks, blowing out candles and removing any trace of her that had been in the house. His time as his grandfather's research assistant gave him far more experience than it should have. When he returned to the bedroom she was still out cold but light as a feather as he carried her downstairs and out the back door to the awaiting SUV, smug that his plan had gone so well.

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

He drove away from the scene of his new crime towards the city, driving through the dead of night, on the beltway, and continued twenty minutes outside downtown Boston before pulling into the garage of a large red cedar and quartzite home. He killed the engine and closed the garage door, pulling Y/N from the seat she was slumped in when it was clear to do so.

He couldn't be seen, he wouldn't be seen. He carried her inside the spacious home, his boots tapping heavily against the dark marble floor of the kitchen and finally the lush carpeted staircase that wound down into the basement.

This is where he laid her, in the basement, on a bed, but not just any bed, the one that would now become hers. He adjusted the lighting in the space, low enough not to disturb her, but bright enough to give the room a glow so he could finish what he'd set out to do. In the shock of the struggle in the bedroom, she’d dropped her phone and he’d made sure to smash it long before he left the haunted house, making sure there'd be no device to track her. He'd already disposed of her car while she was playing his little game, every loose end as far as he could see was tied up.

And now she was all his.

He brushed the hair away from Y/N’s face where it had fallen over her eyes. With gloved hands he manoeuvred her undone, black woollen coat off her body, leaving her in the bottle green turtle neck sweater dress and thick tights she was wearing before he tossed it over the chair in the corner of the room and then undid the zips on her brown suede knee high boots. He dropped them to the floor, kicking them towards the same corner with the equal carelessness he’d shown her coat. With a final meticulous movement he rearranged her on the bed, so he’d appear more comfortable and just before he left the room, he wrapped the cool, metallic cuff around the ankle. It locked in place with a clink and with a final glance at her still unconscious form, he turned and exited the room, the door latching shut and with the snap of the deadbolt he locked her in.

*****

Your head pounded, your nose burned and your mouth felt dry with the faintest taste of something foul lingering as you swallowed. The light was low but still your eyes ached. You tried to decipher exactly what the hell had happened to you while you got your bearings. You tried to sit up but your body felt heavy, the soft bed you now realized you were lying on was not your own. Your breathing rapidly increased as you started to move in fear but a clink caused a screech to escape your throat. You felt the weight of the cuff around your ankle and a full panic set it.

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

You remembered getting the email from the Haunted Mansion supposedly hosted by Lucas Lee. You had arrived and were sent on what you thought was a fun and exhilarating maze littered with clues and riddles and then you remembered the last piece of the puzzle. You gasped as you remembered how his breath felt hot on your skin and how his voice registered in your mind.

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

The door to your room, now coming into focus around you, flew open and there he stood, smug smirk, raging ocean blue eyes, hair neatly in place, dismantling frame clothed in a black sweater and dark denim, heavy footfalls sounding against the thick carpet under his feet.

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"I...I'm not, don't call me that," you spat defiantly as he moved closer, taking you in, his predatory eyes moving over your body. This was it, you were going to die all because some trust fund prick was a hurt baby about an article (that you forcibly apologized for) revealing the sick and sadistic truth about him, his family, money and the justice system.

"Are you gonna kill me?” You watched him carefully as he crossed the room towards you, trying to keep your voice calm so as not to betray the utter fear that was coursing through your veins at the fact you were trapped, fuck knows where, shackled to a bed with a murderer being your captor. “That's what this is about, right? My apology wasn't enough?"

"Your apology was forced bullshit.” He responded, his voice carried a hint of amusement, because of course, this was all a game to him. “You smeared my name, dragged my reputation though the mud and you expected an apology like that, half assed and full of more crap than your original hatchet piece, to be enough?" He was standing damn near over you now, a hand moving up your leg that was held by the cuff, your body frozen in a confused silent argument of fight or flight.

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

"No. I. Didn't." He lied and you had to hand it to him, a lesser person might have bought the garbage he was talking, because he was good at it. Lying must have been enough of a second nature for him that he actually believed everything he said himself. But then again, it wasn't actually a lie was it? Sure, he'd planned on indirectly killing Harlan and that plan had backfired and Harlan had actually slit his own throat. So at most he was indirectly responsible for his death, but none of that had stuck with the prosecution and so now here he was, a free man.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

"Try me, you son of a...." You didn't expect his lips to cover yours but they did. Unexpectedly warm and soft, despite the painfully harsh kiss. You managed to pull away but his hand still gripped at your throat and you felt the fear constricting your chest. But you were damned if you were going to show him a shred of weakness.

“You’re an asshole, Hugh…” It was all you had, the only thing you could use in your arsenal given your situation. You still had your voice. And you’d noticed that for whatever reason he appeared to hate that name.

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

“Or what? You'll kill me?” your voice rose in both volume and pitch as your desperation began to show. “We both know you're gonna do that once you've fulfilled whatever sick, twisted little fantasy this is. What are you waiting for, Hugh? Huh?”

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

You stayed stock still as large and surprisingly gentle hands trailed your curves up the outside of your thighs to your hips. As he reached the hem of your sweater dress he paused as you wrapped your hands around his wrists.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“This will be much easier if you just play-along, sweetheart” he muttered as he pressed his lips to your neck. You let go of his wrists and raised your hands, laying them over the wool of his cable knit, palms flat against the plain of muscle as you attempted to push him off.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand. His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

“I don’t want to hurt you, but I will if I have to.” He ground out, his lips inches from your ear as he nipped at your skin. He was impressively strong and balanced, his weight even through his body as he kept his knees between your legs, a hand against your breast and the other stroking your sides and up your thigh. All the while, his lips sucked at your neck, teeth grazing your pulse point as you turned your head away, tears filling your eyes

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

“I told you not to call me that.” He growled against your skin and pulled back, his eyes blazing as they locked on to yours. In sheer desperation, you managed to wrench a free hand from between you and gave him a slap, nails biting at his skin. Instantly you knew you’d pissed him off. His nostrils flared, his jaw set and as his eyes filled with fire and rage.

And you knew then, you were in for it.

“Bitch…” he snarled as he raised his left hand to his face where you had struck him, and then both his hands grabbed yours, yanking your arms up, pinning them above your head. You bucked upwards, violently in an attempt to shake him off, but it was futile. He was far too strong. His grip on your wrists grew tighter and despite yourself you let out a small whimper of fear.

In one hand he had the ability to cuff both of your wrists and he did so while his other grabbed at your dress, shoving it further up your body, fingers curling over the waist of your tights and panties, a handful of the material fisted in his palm. They wouldn't slide down quick enough and you felt your body lift away from the mattress slightly as he ripped away the material, the snap burning your skin. You fought, boy did you fight. You had no control of your hands or arms as he had them easily pinned, but your legs and the rest of your body gave as good as they could. You thrashed from side to side all the time screaming your objections. You drew your knees up to your chest in an attempt to buck him off. You screamed protests, threw every insult you had at him, but it was no use. He was simply too strong.

He didn't even bother with his belt or button, he just unzipped the flies on his jeans, pulled his solid cock free and slid in. You were wetter than you expected to be, but it still burned with friction and ached from the thick stretch against your tight walls. It hurt, definitely hurt.

"You know you want this. I know you want this." He rasped as he pulled out before thrusting back in, his face twisted in a look that was halfway between being smug and satisfied. Just looking at him made you feel sick but for some reason you were unable to look away as he continued his slow assault, before he picked up the pace slightly, his groans of satisfaction filling the room as he bottomed out, balls deep and it was at that point you closed your eyes and tried to block out what he was doing to you. But try as you might to remain mentally detached from the situation, your body was anything but. And the more he moved in and out of you, the more you could feel your physical reactions. You were powerless to stop them and the heat between your legs and in between your belly was spiking with each thrust into you.

It felt good. And you knew it shouldn’t. So you fought it, but eventually, you couldn't fight it anymore, not with the way his thick cock filled you, velvety smooth skin sliding in and out of your defiant core. You didn't want to cum, but your body told your brain it was going to and Ransom nearly puffed his chest as he fucked you into your body's submission.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you, Sweetheart? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

“Fuck, yeah…see…” Ransom’s hips began to move faster, and then with a sudden movement he pulled out of you, making you wince involuntarily at the sting. He shot his load all over your thighs, a growl bubbling from his throat, the warmth of his release trickling down your leg made you feel even more dirty than you already did.

“Not so fucking smart are we now, huh, miss Investigative Reporter…” his snap was snide, and childish, but you knew he couldn’t help himself. Your head remained defiantly in its position on the pillow, turned to the right, eyes focussed on a spot on the wall. “Look at me, bitch.”

When you didn’t do as he asked, he grabbed your chin bruisingly, making you wince as he pulled your face round so he could see you. You knew he would be able to see the tears on your face, and you hated that. Hated that he would see how much he’d hurt you, scared you even,

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

"That's all you got? You're a fucking child, Drysdale. It's why you’re doing this." You said, your voice trembling and croaking from the fear and exertion of what he had just put you through and you shook your head. “You’re a fucking man child with mommy and daddy issues. A spoilt, little whiney brat who can’t bear to be told no.”

That struck a nerve, you could tell, as his jaw clenched tight and his fists clenched around the sheets by your side to the point they were shaking. He grabbed your chin once more with his right hand and pinned your face still, forcing your eyes to look back at his

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

As you looked at him, you felt your anger starting to simmer. This fucking ass hole had just raped you, and he had the gall to be saying you were going to tell him that you were sorry. No chance in hell. You knew you were screwed, literally and figuratively. Whilst he had you captive behind a bolted door, shackled to a bed you had nowhere to go, he knew that you knew that too and you could see it in his face as a smug smirk flickered on his lips. Well fuck this, if you were going down it was with a fight. With a sudden movement, that caught him off guard you moved your head slightly as much as you could in his painful grip, and spat right in his face.

Ransom blinked, his anger morphing to shock, then back to fury once more as he released your face and with a flash of his hand he back handed you straight across the face. The blow to your right cheek snapped your head to the left, sucking the breath from your lungs and leaving you a little dazed.

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

***** Ransom stormed up the steps to the kitchen of the house, slamming the top door behind him and bolting that one shut too. He was furious that little bitch had scratched him and no doubt marked his face. He strode over the marble tiles of the room and walked into the large hallway and across into the den. He made his way straight to the bar, poured himself a healthy measure of good scotch, slopping a little on the dark wooden counter, before he glanced up at the large mirrored surface of the bar behind the shelves.

He could make out three vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end.

The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** Part 2

#murder he wrote #j's haunted house 2020 #dark ransom #dark ransom drysdale x reader #dark ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x you #ransom drysdale #reader insert #chris evans #chris evans characters

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what-is-your-plan-today · 4 years

Text

Murder, He Wrote

Co-written with @southerngracela

Part 1

Warnings: A creepy house, bad language words. MATURE (NSFW 18+) NON-CON situation, kidnap, violence. DO NOT READ IF ANY OF THOSE TRIGGER… READER DISCRETION IS ADVISED. YOU HAVE BEEN WARNED!!!!

Pairing: DARK! Ransom Drysdale x Reader

Once again READ THE WARNINGS!!!! This is a DARK Series… don’t @ us if you can’t follow simple instructions and end up with butt-hurt. And if you’re under 18…get off my blog.

Series Masterlist.

"Y/L/N," your dick editor poked his head into your office rather gruffly. "I'm gonna need that celebrity haunted mansion review on my desk by tomorrow morning. I want to run it ASAP.”

"Make it happen." He said simply, before he turned and left.

With a groan you banged your head on your desk. Why had you not listened to your dad and become a damned teacher instead of a journalist. Dealing with snotty nosed brats would be easier than this.

I’m tall when I’m young, and I’m short when I’m old. I also give heat but not enough to prevent cold

“Candle…” you spoke “The answer is Candle…”

Turning back round, you then spotted that the door at the end of the hall was open, and you could clearly make out a Jack-o-Lantern looking at you, the candle inside flickering. Its face was creepy, really creepy. The nose and eyes were harsh triangles and the grotesque, twisted smile it sported was constructed of sharp, jagged teeth. You reached into your pocket and pulled out your phone. You may have had no service, but the flashlight was working. Keeping the light held in front of you so you could watch your step on the cracked tiles of the hall, you made your way towards the lantern and found yourself in a large, run down kitchen. The lantern and your flash-light provided the only light in the room as the windows were all overshadowed by gnarly trees, their branches every so often scratching the glass as they swayed slightly in the wind outside. The only other sound to be heard was the drip, drip of the faucet in the porcelain Belfast sink. A closer look revealed the discoloration of the water, a brownish concoction as it swirled down the plug. There was an envelope on the side of the counter by the lantern and as you crossed towards it, a movement in your peripheral made you spin round only to see a lone mouse scuttling away across the dirty wooden floor. You placed your phone down, flash-light up causing it to light up an area of the Artex plaster ceiling, and picked up the envelope, tearing it open to find your next clue

Mr Jack-o-Lantern lights the night His eerie face is shining bright The ????? that shaped him lies around And holds your next clue safe and sound

Many a Child on me they may play Any time be it night or day. My surface is hard, on it you can knock I have many keys, but can’t open a single lock…

“What has keys but doesn't open a lock?" You pondered aloud. Adjusting your cross-body strap, you sigh. Then the answer came to you, "a piano."

"Alright, Lee, you were always one for a flare of the dramatics, let's see what you've got."

Step by step you followed the note that chimed every few steps and you found yourself beginning to wonder if it was a recording or if someone were really playing it, timing their play with the sound of your boots over the rotting floor. You wound your way through the narrow hall, ancient wall paper peeling from its tack, mastick and plaster falling away to reveal studs in places. Finally, to your left you heard the key loud and clear. It was in that room. Steeling yourself for a possible encounter, you carefully pushed the sliding door away from its hinge. Your booted feet traipsed across the brittle carpet, dust swirling in the air in front of your face. Cobwebs adorned many of the surfaces and there were dirty white sheets covering the various pieces of furniture in the room. Apart from, that is, the large ornate grand piano that sat in the middle of the room. The stool in front of it suddenly jolted back and tilted toward you, making you scream at the gracious invitation by an as of yet invisible host.

“Get a grip Y/N” you mumbled to yourself. You were surprised to find just how much this place was starting to set your nerves on edge. You took a deep breath, the pounding of blood in your ears began to quiet and you took a look around the room. There was no one in there with you, you were alone. With slow, deliberate steps you moved towards the piano, your eyes sweeping over the mahogany surface, searching for an envelope with the next clue, but there was none to be found. The surface of the piano was thick with dust and grime, but as you scanned over it you suddenly stopped. On one of the white keys the dust was disturbed, as if it had been wiped away and you instantly realised that had to be the key that your so far elusive host must have been playing. You paused, biting at the nail on your thumb of you right hand, before you reached out with your left and tapped the key. The melodic note rang around the room, clearly, echoing in the silence and for some reason you were taken back to a part of the article you had been thinking about earlier that day, and how Detective Blanc had told you that he had ‘played a key’ during the various family interviews ‘to make my point without interruption’. It didn’t pass you by how fitting that actually was at that moment but you didn’t have much time to reflect on it, as you heard a creak and a grinding noise and you spun to your left to see a panel in the wall sliding open. It made you jump slightly, but this time you didn’t scream.

Not for the first time, you had to admire the effort Lucas was going to here. It was clear he had a flare for the dramatic, anyone could see that from his films and interviews but this was pretty damned good. It was making you wonder how he was doing it. Was he somewhere watching, pressing buttons to enact the various parts of his show? Instinctively you glanced up, looking for a camera or something you were being monitored by but you found no evidence of anything. “Well, in for a penny…” you muttered, crossing towards the small hatch. It was just wide enough for you to get your hand into, but you really didn’t want to. You grabbed your torch and shone it into the hole, finding nothing but the envelope so deciding it was safe you reached in and pulled it out.

Sometimes coloured, sometimes plain sometimes frosted, sometimes stain Be you short or thin, or fat or tall, this simple invention, lets you look right through a wall

You pondered for a moment, before the answer came to you. Fairly quickly you might add. Feeling a little smug you smiled and cleared your throat “Window. It’s a window.”

“Tonight is not all fright and fear, a trick or treat is waiting near, the bedroom holds a sweet surprise, there solve the clue to claim your prize” you bit your lip and looked up at the top of the stairs, wondering when someone was going to jump out at you. Taking a deep breath, you made your way up, cringing at each creak your feet caused on the old warped wood, but it didn’t sway your determination to make it to your destination. Halfway up, a shadow flickered at the corner of your vision at the top on the landing and you froze, your mouth going dry once more. As you stood there, shining your light into the dark you caught the same scent from moments ago lingering in the air only this time it was stronger, far more powerful and you were able to denote even more of the notes within. Aalongside the amber and cedar your heightened senses picked up deep, earthy, sandalwood notes with a hint of citrus in the background. And it was familiar for reasons beyond the fact you’d smelt it down stairs. But, as you’d surmised earlier, it was a cologne. Probably one worn by a few people you knew.

Yes that was it.

“Jesus Christ Y/N what has gotten into you?” You rolled your eyes and continued up the stairs, clearly your ‘Celebrity Host’ was once more nearby. You cautiously got to the top of the stairs and glanced around. Nothing. So turning to your left you entered the first room you found on the hall. It was empty bar a creepy looking doll that had been separated from its head which lay about a foot to the right. As you looked around the room, the wind intensified outside, the rustling of the leaves and branches became louder, as did the creaking of the house…and then you gulped, as you realised it wasn’t just the house that was creaking. In the corner of the room, the little chair had begun to rock, slowly. Blowing out a breath and shaking your head, you looked around at the thin strips of wallpaper which showed little trucks. Crayon markings scrambled upon the wall where wallpaper used to stick but other than that there was nothing in there bar some pretty good theatrics. You had to hand it to Lee, the creepy feel was fantastic and you were going to give him one hell of a write up for this. You took a while longer to take in the detail, smiling to yourself before you closed the door and headed to the one over the hallway.

I’m light as a feather, yet the strongest person can’t hold me for five minutes. What am I?

You froze, for the answer was simple. Breath.

And that was it, you needed to get out. You started to back away from the bed, but before you had so much as made it 3 steps you collided with something hard. A forceful arm across your front pinned you to a firm and broad chest that engulfed your frame while a cloth with a distinct smell and cool moisture covered your airways.

"Surprise" The voice in your ear, calm, deep and known, was all you heard before nothing consumed you.

*****

But then, didn’t everything for him? He was Ransom Drysdale, and he was fucking untouchable.

And now she was all his.

*****

Your night flashed quickly through your glutamate and adrenaline flooded brain

"Drysdale," you repeated the last word you had spoken in a shaky, frightful voice. "No."

Rage and fear collided in your chest as you screamed out the only thing you could think of, "HELP!" A strangled sound left your chest followed by another cry out for help, "Please, someone, HELP!"

"Nice to see someone's awake," Ransom deadpanned.

You stared for a brief moment and screamed for help again, louder, and louder, and louder until you felt your voice crack and strain, your cords burning as the sound shattered away.

"Are you done?" He cocked his head to the side and folded his arms across his chest as he stood firm and tall in front of the bed.

"What the hell are you doing? Why am I here?" It hurt to speak but you had to ask.

“Because I want you here, Sweetheart.”

"You... Killed... Him." You grit out through clenched teeth, and his hand was on your throat before you finished your breath, squeezing just enough to make a point.

A struggled chuckle came from your tightened throat, "Jesus Christ, you actually believe your own bull shit don't you?"

"You've got a fucking mouth on you," he breathed as his body loomed ominously over the bed and your frame, tiny in comparison to his.

You swallowed, feeling the hard lump strain to pass his grip, "Not really, you just don't like hearing the truth."

His eyes bored into yours and you struggled for breath as his hand constricted around your neck whilst he squeezed a little harder "Oh shut up Y/N."

"Or what, Hugh?" You croaked.

A little flash of anger tore through his ocean blue eyes like lightning in a storm. His eyes bored into yours as you fought to swallow.

"Or I'll shut you up myself."

“Don’t... fucking call me that!” his voice rose to a loud, angry instruction, apoplectic rage seeping from him to you, and it was almost stifling.

Ransom scoffed, "Kill you, no, see I'm gonna teach you a lesson. One about how money and status get you anything you want.”

You frowned, as you looked into his icy blue eyes, utterly confused “Anything you want? What the fuck are you talking about?”

“You'll see Princess” was the sole explanation you got as he knelt between your legs.

"Don't" you squeezed, attempting to stop his wrists and close your legs.

“I said no.” you tried to keep your voice stern, despite the fact you were fighting back the fear and sadness at the realization of his task was now at hand.

His large hands smoothed over your dress, cupping your breasts and he let out a moan as you bit back the bile in your throat that was threatening to spill from your mouth. You pushed harder trying to force him off of you but it was of no use, his broad frame caged you in, engulfing you under him.

"Please, stop," you managed. "Hugh, stop!"

And you knew then, you were in for it.

"You're gonna fucking cum, aren't you Princess? I can feel it," he ground out, chasing his own release. You remained silent, breathing heavily as your insides coiled and tightened. "Fucking tight ass pussy," he gritted. You refused to cry out, not wanting to give him anything you were able not to, and it took everything you had to remain silent. In desperation, to quell the cry that was rising from your throat, you bit your tongue, tasting the coppery taste of blood in your mouth as you came hard around his cock.

His hand let go of your face and you stared at him, swallowing, trying to gather your voice in your painfully dry throat.

“You'll be begging me to accept your apology.” He snarled, his face contorted in rage “You'll see who the whiney child is soon enough. I promise Princess, it's not me”

“Fuck you.” He sneered as he rose to his feet, wiping his face. Silently he rearranged his pants, tucking his now soft cock back inside them, and swept from the room, locking the door behind him.

He could make out 3 vivid red lines down his left cheek where she’d dug her nails into his flesh and his jaw clenched. His hair was out of place, his cheeks flushed and his normally cold eyes were blazing with anger. But as he stood there staring at his dishevelled reflection, he knew it wasn’t the fact she’d scratched or spat at him that was pissing him off so much. It was the fact she had persistently voiced a name he despised, one that was used to control those lower than him in his every-day life. One reserved for The Help, for outsiders. It reminded him of his family, of his mother and father, the two people in his life who should have loved him unconditionally but instead had him out of ‘duty’ and had taken every opportunity to pass him off into the care of others they could. It reminded him of Walt persistently telling him he was a no-one, that he would amount to nothing over than a trust-fund baby.

It reminded him of Harlan. The one person in that entire fucked up patriarchy that had shown him an ounce of care. But who had screwed him over in the end. The anger that had been simmering inside him boiled over, the blood pumped into his ear and with an angry yell and an almost involuntary action Ransom hurled the glass tumbler straight at the wall where it smashed against the tasteful silver and white wallpaper, the 25 year old single malt trickling down the wall…just like the tears and trickled down Y/N’s cheeks as he’d forced her to look at him whilst he took what was his.

As she’d glared up at him he’d noticed a fierceness in her eyes that he was surprised to find had unnerved him a little, because she clearly wasn’t going to be as easy to break as he thought.

“Fuck it.” He mumbled to himself, grabbing the bottle from the bar before he turned and left the room, taking a large swig as he went, the burn in his throat going someway to settling his nerves.

This would work out, because he was Ransom fucking Drysdale, a man who always got what he wanted in the end, and she was going to be no exception.

**** WIYPT Tag List:

Everything

@momobaby227 @marvelfansworld @cobalt-gear @djeniiscorner @ayamenimthiriel @coldmuffinbanditshoe @nerdofthefandoms @sweater-daddiesdumbdork @southerngracela @goldenfightergir @kellymat @what-just-happened-bro @jennmurawski13 @joannaliceevans-fanficblog @jtargaryen18 @redhairedfeistynerd @charmed-asylum @saiyanprincessswanie @just-one-ordinary-fangirl @jhayes6984 @anika-ann @icanfeelastormbrewing @gigglegirl77 @princess-evans-addict @mes-2016 @theladybiers @void-hoechlin

Ransom Drysdale

@patzammit @icandothisallday @capsiclewinter @this-is-serenaa @alexakeyloveloki @perplexed3001 @twittytelly @kelbabyblue @maan24

If your name appears above but the tag isn’t live please let me know.

#halloween challenge #j's haunted house 2020 #jshauntedhouse2020 #dark ransom drysdale x reader #ransom drysdale x reader #murder he wrote #ransom drysdale #ransom drysdale smut #ransom drysdale fanfiction #knives out #knives out fanfic

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mr-and-mr-diaz · 4 years

Note

First off, you're an amazing person w/ gr8 blog. Second of all, I hope you don't mind me saying it? If it's weird or creepy, please, disregard. Don't want to make you uncomfortable. Third of all, I came to your tumblr from ao3 and specifically the pirate fic and ma'am (sir? Neither? Wanted to use honorific and "my kind dude tends to not be *that* universal, sadly). It. ROCKS. If by any chance you feel like continuing it, I'd be forever in debt. Also hope you don't mind reviews via anon tumblr? ♥

ANON!! My answer to this ask is so long overdue I literally have no words. When I first recieved this ask in my box I was warmed through--thank you so much for your kind words! I determined to myself I would NOT send an empty response, would only publish this with the chapter in hand!! And then life picked up like crazy and I never seemed to have a spare BREATH to sit down and write this AU well enough that it would be worth reading. AND NOW I FAINLLY HAVE IT!!! Two more chapters for ya, I really hope you enjoy!!

P.S. Also, I refuse to be called ANYTHING except My Kind Dude from now on, that is the best address ever!

The Damned Disgrace--Buddie Pirate AU, Chapter 2

"Dios mio, you're useless."

Buck looked up from where he'd been struggling to swab the deck and met the glare of Captain Nash's angry first mate--Diaz, and sighed. He'd already been on the ship a fortnight, and while Chimney had fit right in, used to hard work and quickly picking up the vernacular of the other pirates, Buck stuck out like a sore thumb. He wasn't used to manual labor, having spent his life behind books and papers, and had no instinct for it. He tried, oh did he try so hard, but his clumsy hands struggled to complete work that someone else had to repeat later to make sure it was done right. And the pirates who didn't ignore him were usually laughing at him. What few acquaintances he'd made in his past life had been in academic circles. These men had no patience for or interest in unusual trivia about far away lands, or wonderings about what the world would be like if mankind lived under the water and fish lived on land.

Buck was red with sunburn, blistered all over--on his back, his forearms, and face from sunburn, and his hands, fingers and feet from work. He ached everywhere.

He looked away from Diaz and went back to stubbornly pushing the mop around the deck.

I won't be useless! I won't go overboard. I'm going to work hard and they'll help me find Maddie and bring her home! and if I get to shoot that thrice-damned Commodore Douglas too, well that would be a boon from God--

"Stop. Just stop."

Buck stopped, his heart sinking. He dared not look Diaz in the eye again, already knowing the derision and anger he would see there.

Sure the other pirates ignored him or laughed at him behind his back. But Diaz? Diaz detested him. This was the first time he'd ever spoken to Buck but definitely not the first time he'd loomed nearby, sneering at Buck's pathetic efforts to work as part of the team and fit in.

"We should've left you back at the port."

"What? No! No, I swear, I'm learning--"

"Learning what? How to smear muck around so someone else has to clean up after you? Again?" Diaz sneered, kicking at the mop. Buck's hands twitched around it, every blister flaring up painfully. Diaz's eyes caught it and he suddenly leaned forward. "Show me your hands."

"What...?"

"Show me!"

Buck carefully placed the mop against the rail of the ship and carefully unfolds his hands, wincing as the skin flares in pain with each motion.

"Dios...! Come with me."

"Wait, but I have to finish the--"

"NOW!"

***

Buck followed Eddie down into the ship, down down, past Buck's sleeping berth with the other sailors.

Buck looked around in trepidation. Is he taking me to the bilge? To the brig? The bilge was full of seawater, the brig a confined, rat infested cell where only the most unfortunate went.

They kept walking.

"Uh, Diaz, I... I swear, I'll work harder, I just--please don't--"

"You're not working any more today." Diaz replied shortly and threw open a door. "Hen, I've got the cabron for you. Destroyed his hands and he thinks he's magical enough not to get gangrene or something. Can you fix him up?"

The woman inside raised her eyebrows. "You don't usually bring me people, Eddie." She was dressed like the rest of the sailors but her clothes were neater and better kept.

"They aren't usually this stupid." Eddie growled.

"I... sorry." Buck mumbled, defeated.

"Don't worry about this one. He's always angry about something." Hen chuckled, and Diaz's scowl deepened. "What's your name?"

"Ah, Buck. Well, Evan Buckley, but... just Buck is okay." He felt another twinge in his heart as he said it. It was Maddie who had named him Buck.

"Buck it is. Come sit and we'll have a look at those hands."

Buck chanced a sideways look at Diaz, who was still standing there, muscled arms crossed. "Is he...?"

"Eddie was just leaving, weren't you, Eddie?" Hen's tone brooked no argument, and to Buck's surprise, Diaz obeyed.

Buck sat and held his hands out. Now that he had a moment to focus on them they hurt even more, and he could feel some of the injuries oozing. "I'm sorry, I tried to-- but--" he stopped abruptly as he felt his throat thicken and his eyes started to wet. You are already the most pathetic creature on this ship, you will not make it worse by whining about it. Silently he held his hands out, head down.

Hen sucked in a breath. "Eddie was right to bring you here. If you let these wounds get any more infected than they are and gangrene set in I might have to remove one or both of them."

Buck swallowed around a sob. As a teacher and writer, his hands were his life.

"I'll clean and wrap your hands for you." Hen continued softly. "That should be able to prevent it from getting worse, so long as you promise not to use them for the next few days and come down here every day for the next week so I can make sure they don't get worse. Okay?"

Buck nodded silently.

"Buck."

He looked up at Hen. She was wearing a kind smile and that was enough to completely undo him. A single tear slid down his cheek and he reached up a hand to stop it, but Hen wouldn't allow it. "I need to wrap these first." Her eyes and smile were all compassion. After two weeks in a foreign world with no friends on board it was a balm to Buck's soul. He kept his head bowed as she cleaned and wrapped, let the tears fall silently, unchecked. When she was done, she reached out a hand and clasped his shoulder. "The sailors are used to losing people and because you’re greener than most, they're expecting you to die. They don’t want to get close to someone they’re gonna lose. But if you stay alive they'll warm up eventually, don't fret it."

"Then.. why are you...?"

Hen snorted. "I walk to the beat of my own drum on this ship, Buck. Always have. And I've decided I like you, dumbass hand damage and all."

Buck sniffed. "Thanks."

Hen nodded. "Go to the captain and tell him that I've ordered light duty for you--no using your hands except to carry light objects. Errands only for you for the next two weeks."

"But Captain Nash said--if I'm not useful--"

Hen chuckled. "His bark is bigger than his bite. Besides, I'm pretty sure he's taken a liking to you too."

***

"Buckley."

"Uh, Captain. I... Hen, the doctor--" Buck choked off with a derisive snort at himself. Did I really just stop to explain to the captain who his doctor is? "Uh, she said I should tell you that I'm..." He held up his bandaged hands. "Light duty. Errands."

Captain Nash's face clouded and his brow furrowed as he took in the state of Buck's hands.

"But I swear, I'll be useful, I don't--please, don't throw me off the ship--"

"Buckley." One firm word and Buck silenced. "You'll rest today, and starting tomorrow you'll work as an errand boy around the ship. Messages, parcels, meals for sick crew. And anything Hen or I asks you to do, you do without question."

"I--yes. Yes, sir. Captain."

Nash looked up at him, his eyes showing the smallest glint of kindness. "A teacher's hands are his life's blood, Buckley. See to it you take care of them." Nash turned to gaze out the window of his office and sighed. "If you're very lucky, you'll need them sooner than you think."

Buck's pulse heightened. "Are we near Commodore Douglas's ship, sir?"

Captain Nash sighed. "Not as close as I’d like to be." He turned back to Buck. "Dismissed."

Buck nodded and left for his hammock.

Chapter 3

The next day he showed up bright and early at Captain Nash's office only to be sent down to Hen. Hen took one look at him and started loading a crate with various medicines and infusions, talking rapidly. For each bottle, Hen explained what it was, who it was for and why. Buck paid careful attention so he could keep up. Rote memorization and processes? He was back in his comfort zone.

"...garlic and chamomile for Wes, he ate something at port that we're still trying to get out of him. Then cat's claw for Lea, her knuckles are hurting her again. And that's all." Hen hesitated, thinking for a moment. Then she mumbled something under her breath before grabbing a few more vials. "Actually, got a few more. These are to be dropped off outside Eddie's quarters."

"Diaz? What are they for?"

"Eddie knows what to do with them." No further explanation came and Buck nodded at the dismissal and left, running around the ship to deliver the medicines to each ailing person. When he arrived at last outside Diaz's door, he paused, looking over the bottles. It made no sense to be bringing so much medicine to Diaz’s quarters. Buck had seen him just this morning, looking as healthy as ever, muscles rippling while he hauled canvas with the men. What is this for? Buck shook his head to clear the thoughts--no use risking his newfound equilibrium by prying. He hastily dropped the bottles outside Diaz's door, knocked and departed.

He followed this routine for the next week, deviating at times in the afternoon to run errands for the captain. But every morning started the same--Hen dropping several bottles and vials into a box for him to deliver around the ship and he running around as fast as he could to get it done quickly and efficiently. Each time, he would find himself hesitating outside Diaz's door, awash with curiosity at what the medicine could possibly be for. It wasn't hard to puzzle out the various vials, even though Hen hadn't identified them. Some were the same bottles he delivered elsewhere, others he recognized from his studies. Willow bark, cat's claw and ginger--pain relief.Chamomile, dried cherry, valerian, and peppermint--muscle relaxers. It was a mighty amount of herbs for the average aches of a day's work even as strenuous as the work Diaz did.

So who is it for? Buck wondered again as he approached Diaz's door to drop off the bottles. He had just turned to leave when he heard a thump on the inside of the office followed by a yelp of pain.

Good God, that's a child. There's a child in there!

Horrible images came to the forefront of Buck's mind as he imagined why Diaz might be holding a child prisoner. A child who would require so much pain relief. His skin paled in horror and he dropped the box.

I need to help! But his hands were still tightly bandaged and the door was latched shut from the inside. Buck thumped against it with his shoulders to no avail. The sturdy wood would not give.

If only I could unlatch it from the outside... Then he had an idea. He picked up one of the envelopes he was delivering for Captain Nash. It was thin but strong. Carefully, he eased it between the door and the latch, pressing the envelope between his bandaged hands to keep his grip.

With a click the latch came free and the door swung open.

Buck braced himself for what he might see and ventured inside, closing the door behind him.The room looked like the captain's, if smaller and simpler. Diaz's bed was neatly made, and soaked in sun from the window. His desk was neat and cleared off. The room was empty.

But I heard a child, I know I did!

Buck started looking around, when he heard a whimper of pain from the direction of the desk. Quickly he hastened over and pulled out the desk chair.

There, curled in the desk well and looking nothing like the skinny, dirty, or abused waif Buck had expected, lay a child. He looked clean and healthy, if in pain. He regarded Buck with large terrified eyes, his hair clean and curling every which way.

He was adorable. And as sure as grass was green, he was Diaz's own child.

So what is he doing hidden away in here?

The child whimpered again, obviously still in pain and Buck lurched away, back toward the bottles and vials he'd brought from Hen. "Here, let me help you, Hen sent me with a bunch of..." He fumbled with the bottles, pulling out the chamomile and the willow bark. "Here, this should help." The child shied away from him, curling deeper into the desk well with awkward jerky movements that only seemed to hurt him more.

"Oh God, please let me help, here, let me..." Buck backed up far away to give the child room and then gently pushed the vials at him. "Here. They're directly from Hen, don't worry. I haven't opened them or anything. See?" The child looked between Buck and the bottles, but didn't say anything.

"And--here, I'm leaving okay? Nothing to be afraid of, I'll leave you so you can climb out of that desk. It looks--God, you look like you're hurting so badly, is there anything I can do to help?"

The child still didn't respond, only regarded Buck with the same terrified eyes and Buck took it as his cue. He hastened to his feet and hurried to the door, away from the room. He was about to step out when he heard the child gasp and whimper again. He froze.

The child won't let me near him, but I can't leave him like that.

Diaz! Diaz can help him!

"I'm going to go and get your father, okay?" Buck took another step toward the door.

"Don't!" A small plaintive voice called, and Buck paused again.

"I can't just leave you like this... Wait, did your father do this to you??"

"No, no!" came the small cry. "He's the best papa ever. And..." the child paused then continued in a stronger voice. "He'll kill you if he finds out you know about me."

Buck's body froze in place. "Surely not--" The child cried out again, and Buck hastened back to the desk. The child was panting now, but still wouldn't move. "Oh, for the love of God, please let me help you!"

"Can't... don't... trust... you." Christopher panted in between pained gasps.

"Oh God, please--" Buck's voice broke and he felt himself start to cry. "I can't--you're hurting. You... I was a schoolteacher before I got onto this ship, I love kids, I swear I just want to help, please!" He reached out his bandaged hands toward the child. "Look, see? I couldn’t hurt you even if I wanted to! I--I swear I won't tell anyone about you on this ship, I'll never speak to you again. Just let me help you settle yourself more comfortably, you need to take some herbs for the pain..." He was blubbering now, his view of the child obscured by tears. He tensed as he felt small hands grasp around his bandaged hands.

"Please help." The boy whimpered.

He sobbed in relief and crooked his wrapped hands so they became large hooks to grip the child and carefully, oh so carefully pulled him out of the desk well. By this time he heard the child begin to cry as well, still on the floor. Buck quickly swiped his eyes with his threadbare sleeve to clear them. "There now, that's a bit better, I'm sure. Let's get you settled into the bed and I'll mix some medicine with water to relieve the pain.”

Buck carefully lifted the child, who whimpered at being jostled. Carefully he laid the boy on Diaz's neatly made bed and hastened back to the bottles and vials, pulling corks out with his teeth and pouring a the various powders into a tin cup. He filled the cup the rest of the way with water from a pitcher on the small wash stand and stirred it to mix before offering the cup to the child.

But the boy only shook his head, crying more."Don't want it. It tastes h-horrible." The child's big eyes were red from crying and Buck's heart broke.

"Oh, shh, there there. Yeah, I won't lie to you, it’s going to taste pretty bad. But once you drink it, you'll stop hurting so much and then you can relax and sleep or play." Buck clumsily rested a wrapped hand in the child's hair. "How's that sound?"

Still the child shook his head.

"Okay, how about this?" Buck took a theatrical sniff and wrinkled his nose. "I'll drink some and then you have to drink the rest, okay?" None of the ingredients were harmful to someone who wasn't in pain. "Deal?"

The boy looked at him, surprised. “Really?” Buck nodded and the boy sighed. "Deal."

Buck grinned, then made a big show of sniffing the contents of the glass. "Ohh blurggh," he shuddered theatrically, and heard the slightest huff from the bed. "Oh boy, here we go." He took a sip then screwed up his face and shook it rapidly back and forth like a dog. "Heaven and earth, but that's awful!" The child giggled and Buck continued with his performance, making gagging noises and funny faces. "You must be the strongest kid I know to drink this every day."

"That's what Papa says, too." The boy smiled.

"Well, he's right. I don't think I can handle any more." Buck made one more funny face and the boy laughed again. "Okay, you ready? I'll count to five, and then you drink it all as fast as you can, okay?"

The child hesitated. "How much is five?"

Buck turned to him, eyes wide. "You don't know...?" Then he paused. No use making the boy feel bad for something that wasn’t his fault. Besides, this was Buck's specialty. "Five is a number, you'll see. I'm going to count a few numbers, and when I say five you drink that down as quickly as you can so you barely taste it, okay?"

The boy nodded. "Okay."

"One, two, three, four... five, go!"

With Buck's clumsy assistance, the child drank down the mixture, screwing up his face just like Buck did. "Urgh."

Buck laughed. "I think you made a funnier face than I did." The boy reminded Buck of his own students. He missed children, their bright-eyed optimism, their enthusiasm for exploring the world around them. "I hope I don't die for meeting you, kid. You're just about the nicest person on this entire ship."

The child smiled. "Christopher."

Buck returned his grin and held out a bandaged hand. "Nice to meet you Christopher. I'm Buck." Christopher reached out in jerky movements and shook Buck's hand, both of them giggling at how clumsy the exchange was.

"I hope you don't die either, Buck." It seemed that the medicine was starting to work. Christopher was relaxing and his smile wasn't edged with quite so much pain anymore.

"In that case, I should probably run before your father finds me. those big strong hands of his would tear me in half like paper." Buck stood, patting Christopher on the head once more before turning away.

"...Buck?"

"Hm?" He turned back. The boy was starting to fall asleep.

"Can... Can you come back and visit me again?"

What a terrible idea. "Of course, Christopher." Buck rummaged up a brave smile. "I'd love to see you again." An idea occurred to him suddenly and he straightened his shoulders. "I'll even teach you how to count to five all by yourself if you want?"

The boy's tired eyes lit up. "Yes. Yes please..." His eyes slipped closed and he fell asleep.

Buck smiled, feeling warmed for the first time in weeks. Carefully he gathered the scattered items for the rest of his errands and slipped from the room, latching it behind him.

#buddie #buddie fic #evan budckley #eddie diaz #9-1-1 #pirate au #christopher diaz #Anonymous

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scornedlove · 3 years

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Chapter Thirty

ROBYN

It’s amazing what good sex can do. When we left the mall, Rocky took me to his duck off spot at Manhattan beach, where we set some rules to our situation. No questions, no venting, and no expectations. We promised to keep emotions out and orgasms in. If either of us broke any of the agreements, that would be the end of our rendezvous.

After we both had a clear understanding, he got to work like his life depended on it. He took me to heights I’ve been desperately needing right there on the sand and in the back of his car. I rode him so good, I woke up the next morning sore as hell with a little pep in my step.

What I didn’t expect, was Dre’s face to be the first one I saw when I arrived at the boutique. There was an all black Chevy Impala parked in the very last space, with some guy watching him. Guess he found a new driver. He kept glancing in all directions as if he was Dre’s bodyguard. All I could do was roll my eyes when I noticed Dre. He was holding a box of muffins and some flowers looking like somebody killed his dog.

I took my time getting out the cab, then slowly approached him with no-nonsense on my face. There wasn’t enough orgasms in the world to make me forget about him calling me an addict. When I got in front of him, I paused, waiting for him to speak first.

“I hate when you’re mad at me” he admitted, holding out the gifts.

“Is that what you think of me? An addict?” I quizzed, ignoring his offerings.

“See, I knew you took what I was saying the wrong way. You know I don’t think you’re an addict, but you do need help. Which is why this is the last time I’m giving you these” he stated, pulling a pill bottle out of his pocket. It must’ve been evident that I didn’t want to take them from him, because he urged, holding them out for me to grab.

“I don’t want anything from you. Matter of fact, forget I even exist” I frowned, turning my back on him to unlock the door. I was early this morning for a reason and he was cutting into my time.

“Anna you gotta stop pushing the people who care about you away. I talked to John this morning and he told me-”

“Oh please, because YOU care about me right? Go care about those stupid tramps you got prancing around in them tight ass clothes at your clinic.” I bumped him out of my way, knocking the pill bottle from his hand as I entered the building.

I locked the door and peeped out the window as he scrambled to find the bottle without dropping everything else he was holding. The scowl on his face as he mumbled to himself when he picked it up, showed he was done trying.

I hadn’t noticed before, but John was parked across the street waiting for him. He jogged over to the car without looking back, clearly cursing my name.

“Bet his ass won’t come back now” I shook my head, thinking out loud.

“Damn it’s been forever since I’ve seen you!” Meagan’s animated voice scared the crap out of me.

“SHIT” I yelled, clutching my chest.

“Sorry, I ain’t mean to scare you” she giggled, coming from around the front counter.

“What you doing here so early? I didn’t see your car out there.” I snapped, glancing around the store.

“Oh, my mom needed to borrow my car, so I got dropped off today.” she explained as if this was the norm. Jenn, Frankie, and I were gonna have to have a talk. I gave them a key, so how did Meagan end up with a copy?

“So who’s that guy waiting out front?”

“What guy?”

“There was some guy” I explained, as I went to see if he was still there. He was gone and now I was starting to wonder if I was just overthinking. “Nevermind....you know we don’t open for another hour and a half right?”

“Yeah, I know. It was either be early or be late. So, here I am” she shrugged, walking over to the window to see what I was looking at. “Is that Dre”?

“I’ll be in my office if you need me” I yawned, ignoring her question as I jogged up the stairs.

It felt good being back in my workspace. I didn’t realize how much I missed being here. I started to notice that every time I’m in a low place, I avoid the things that really make me happy. Just then, an idea came to mind. It had been awhile since I’ve been inspired, so I wasted no time pulling out my pad letting my hand flow as I began to sketch.

When I finished a couple of designs and going over the numbers for the past few weeks, I smoked a blunt, made some coffee, and promised myself today would be great before I went downstairs to join my crew.

“Bitch, you don’t need no more vacations!” Frankie exclaimed, as Jenn finished counting the day’s deposit. While she did that, Frankie and I were reviewing the reports for the past quarter. For some reason, every time I was here in the shop compared to my vacation days, sales were up by thirty percent. I wasn’t complaining, but it did seem strange.

“It makes sense if you ask me.” Meagan piped in. “Customer’s appreciate when you actually show up for them”

“Girl you still here?” I quizzed sarcastically. She was sticking her nose in places she had no business and it was starting to piss me off. “I appreciate your hard work. Enjoy the rest of your night and go get some rest. You’re off tomorrow so I’ll see you Thursday!”

“She’s off Thursday too!” Frankie corrected with a nod.

“Oh, well see you Friday” I grinned with a wave. She stood there lost for a moment, then finally agreed that she was tired as she grabbed her things and headed towards the door.

“Which one of ya’ll gave that heffa a key to my shop?” I asked crossing my arms over my chest as I glared from Jenn to Frankie.

“Not me” Frankie threw his hands up in defense.

“What makes you think she has a key?” Jenn quizzed, unamused.

“She was the first one here today. I don’t trust her and I don’t appreciate my key being copied. I’m changing the locks.”

“I think your exaggerating” Jenn shook her head in disbelief.

“Well I think I’ll be the only one with a key since nobody knows how a copy just magically appeared.” I shrugged, leaving it at that. We finished closing the store in silence, but I could still feel Jenn’s attitude. I didn’t let it get to me though. I just rolled me another blunt and smoked until my cab showed up.

Minus the stench on his breath, the driver was a nice guy. He was a college kid trying to scrape up every dollar he could with every minute he had. I remembered those days. I invited him to have dinner with me when we pulled up to Gorgio Baldi, but he declined, which meant I’d be dining alone. Usually, I wouldn’t mind, but the last time I was here was with Chris. I hate that I let him meet me here, because now it will never be the same.

The same place that usually felt warm and cozy, was now big and cold. As I waited for my food, I had an eerie feeling that I was being watched. I looked around the room and noticed how busy it was. There were a few couples, a couple of families, and a group of girlfriends having dinner together. I wasn’t the only loner though. There was a guy, a couple of tables away, with his face in a book while he waited on his food. He was comfortable in his lonesome, but I was not. I couldn’t shake the feeling of embarrassment as the memories of the last time I was here, flooded my mind.

When the waiter came back with my food, I took it to go. I decided if I wanted to enjoy my food in peace, I’d better stop and get Ollie and Pepe’s food as well. When I entered the grocery store, I was immediately irritated by how long all the checkout lines were. I wanted nothing to do with the chaos going on, so I grabbed some dog food and called it a day.

As I weaved through the crowds, towards one of the long ass check out lines, I noticed a cashier opening a new lane, so I quickened my pace. I was almost there when, out of nowhere, a guy walked right in my path, causing me to smash my cart into his side.

“Fuck!” he yelled out in pain, scaring me half to death.

“I’m so sorry! I didn’t see you! Are you okay?” I panicked, rushing around the basket to pick up one of the 2-liter cokes he’d dropped.

“I’m good” he winced, massaging his hip.

“You may wan grab another” I suggested, handing it back to him.

“You may wan watch where you’re going, you could’ve fucked my shit up.” he mimicked disrespectfully.

“Scuse me?” I paused, stepping back with a scowl. Who was he coming at sideways when he’s the one that ran into my basket? I fixed my lips to tear him down, but my voice caught in my throat.

“Oh shit! I was hoping I’d run into you again, just not literally, we forgot to exchange numbers.” Rocky lightened up, after recognizing me. I went from wanting to slap him, to wanting to jump his bones, and back to that strange feeling in the back of my gut. How the hell do I keep running into him?

“You following me?” I stared him down, trying to read him. I had to know, this was one too many coincidences.

“How can I be following you when I’m on my way out?” He asked, waving his receipt. “I was just picking up a few things for my little sister’s party ”

“Well, uh have fun.” I stammered, before rushing towards the checkout lane. Something about running into him two days in a row made me feel a little uneasy. He knows where I live, which means it’s possible he followed me.

I didn’t see him or his car in the parking lot when I left the store, but I was more alert the entire ride home. By the time I made it home I convinced myself he lived nearby. That’s the only thing that made sense, so I said a quick prayer and brushed it off.

The next few days, I couldn’t help but look over my shoulder. I even went as far as having cameras installed at home. When you live alone, there’s no such thing as being too careful, so I updated my security system too. When everything was finished, I was impressed to say the least. I had everything connected to my phone, plus a couple of panic buttons around the house, in case I ever get caught slipping.

“This shit is dope” Mel exclaimed, as I explained the new system to her. “I just got one question. What’s going on?”

“What you mean?”

“Why did you get all this? Has Chris been threatening you?”

“What? Please! Not everything is about him. I just want to feel safe, that is all”

“You sure you’re not keeping anything from me?”

“I’m sure bitch! Now hurry up and roll up so we can get this movie started” I demanded, changing the subject.

“Movie? Un-un! You still gotta pack your shit, we leave for Bim tomorrow.”

“Our flight ain’t til 11! I was gonna do it in the morning, you wanna help me?”

“Hell naw! You know how your ass is! It’s gon’ take you forever to pick out 3 days worth of clothes and I’m starving. I’m finna raid your fridge.”

“Well, how ‘bout you pick my clothes and I fix dinner.” I bargained with a brow raise.

“Ooooh, deal. I’ll take jerk chicken.” she jumped up a little too happily. “Besides, It’s been a minute since I raided your closet!”

“I betta not find nothing missing!” I called over my shoulder on my way to the kitchen.

CHRIS

"You can’t hold me!" Trey taunted, with his usual trash talk as the shot clock reached zero. We were at his crib playing 2K while Lala and Danni were cooking food, preparing for tomorrow. They were hosting Thanksgiving this year, so the house was smelling marvelous.

“Shut up man! You definitely got lucky” I shook my head in shame.

“Yeah okay, I beat yo ass bro. You just gon’ take that L?” he teased, challenging me to another round.

“Imma have to, I gotta get up outta here. I gotta be at the airport by 7am.” I explained, glancing at my watch. As much as I loved this game, I had other shit on my mind. I needed to figure out how to get Tae to hear me out, and what better way then through her best friend?

“Oh, you gotta get to Mama huh? Can’t miss out on that Thanksgiving dinner!”

“Nah, I’m actually gonna pop up on Tae. Maybe meet the fam and all that”

“Oh yeah? Can she cook?”

“You know what, now that you mention it,” I paused in deep thought. I don’t know. I’ve never had her cooking”

“Well shit, I guess you about to find out! Good luck!” he laughed, cracking himself up. “But in all seriousness, how’s that going?”

“It’s cool” I lied with a shrug. “How’s the married life?”

“Man, if I knew marriage was the key to turn up the freak in Lala, I would’ve did this shit a long time ago!” he exclaimed, grinning hard as hell.

“Guess that means it’s going good?”

“Nah, this shit is great. With the way we be going at it, she’s definitely gonna be pregnant any day. That’s if she ain’t already!”

“You fucking stupid” I laughed out loud and damn near choked when Lala came from the kitchen, holding a spatula covered in chocolate.

“Taste this” she demanded, as she strutted towards Trey. She had definitely put on a few pounds since I last saw her. Hopefully he was right and they were expecting. Everybody knew how much they wanted kids.

“Ugh, ain’t that cross contamination?” I frowned, shaking my head.

“Shut up, I’m still mad at you for what you did to my friend” Lala glared in my direction.

“What you do?” Trey quizzed, looking confused. “You just said everything was cool”

“It was just a big misunderstanding” I sighed as I proceeded to explain the situation.

“So you’re telling me you passed out next to yo horny ex-fuck buddy and ain’t hit?”

“I swear to God bro”

“No wonder she’s pissed. That just sounds like bullshit” Lala frowned, shaking her head.

“It ain’t bullshit. Yeah, it looked bad, but I promise ya’ll I ain’t stupid enough to go down that road. I gave her some time to cool off, now I gotta go get my girl back”

“You really love her?” she wondered aloud as she cut her eyes at me.

“I do and I miss the shit outta her. Now what do I gotta do to at least get her to hear me out?”

“Chris, if I help you and you hurt my friend, I will personally help her fuck yo life up.”

“You ain’t gotta worry about that”

“Okay, you got one shot. The only reason I’m even agreeing to help is because I know how she feels about you. She deserves to be happy. So if you ain’t 1000% sure about her then you should just leave things where they are. ”

“Damn he said he ain’t cheat! If my boy can survive that kind of temptation, then he know what he want. Trust me, I’m speaking from experience. ” Trey exclaimed on my behalf.

“He got a point. Now can you call her for me?

“Why you can’t call her?”

“You know she blocked me” I shook my head as she pulled her phone out.

“You wanna talk to her”

“Nah, I just need you to figure out what she got going on tomorrow so I can pop up on her. I know that seeing me face to face will show her how serious I am.”

“Okay, I can do that.” she smiled, as she dialed Tae’s number. She answered on the second ring and they caught up before she got the information I needed. Tae didn’t even think twice as she ran down her plans for tomorrow. I made Lala promise not to give her a heads up so she could be genuinely surprised. Now all I had to do was show up and speak my truth. How hard could that be?

ROBYN

“If the dog don’t trust it, you know something’s up” Mel blurted to the TV. We were bundled up together on my love seat because my grown ass wanted to cuddle.

“I never understood why people don’t listen to they dogs!” I agreed, as we cracked our beers and clinked them. We were watching the Conjuring, knowing damn well we were gonna have nightmares from it. I didn’t care, I just needed a distraction.

Ever since the beach sex I had with Rocky, my hormones have been raging. That man had a magical tongue and the fact that he could hang for so long was impressive. I had more than a few orgasms when he’d finally gotten his, and I definitely didn’t expect that from a stranger. I didn’t know if he was really that good or if my drought intensified our encounter. Either way, I was still riding the high.

“You gonna answer that?” I asked, shaking Mel’s shoulder when her loud ass ringtone woke up my babies. Evidently, she was exhausted because she didn’t even make it halfway through the movie.

“Mellie” I called out again, but all she did was roll over and snore louder. I figured it was J when the text notification went off, so I grabbed her phone to let him know she had passed out.

I need another round, last night was incredible.

What are you doing tonight?

Seeing Michael’s new text along with no previous messages had my mind going straight to the gutter. I just knew this hoe wasn’t cheating on J. I wanted to wake her ass up, but decided against it. There had to be more to the story. I really hoped so.

My nosy ass could’t help it. I had to get more information. I went through her call history and didn’t notice his name once. I was about to dig even deeper when my phone lit up with an alarm notification. I received a text when my alarm noticed movement within 15 feet of my house. The last couple of times it was a squirrel but this time I was glad I checked it anyway. Apparently I had company.

I wasn’t sure how to feel about this unannounced visit, but smiled when a familiar face paused and took a deep breath before knocking at my door.

“Sorry for popping up on you” Rocky grinned, when I opened the door.

“So you remembered where I live?”

“I couldn’t forget if I wanted to. My sister lives right across the street” he pointed behind him at the party that was going on. "She throws a mean Thanksgiving eve party if you don’t have anything going on.”

“Oh, um”

“I would’ve invited you the other day but you left so quickly I didn’t get your number” he hinted.

“My bad, I was in a hurry. I would go, but my sis is staying with me tonight.”

“The more the merrier. I bet she’d have a good time too”

“We actually have a flight in the morning, so we’re about to call it a night.”

“Aight, guess I’ll just see you around.” he shrugged, returning to his party. The throbbing between my thighs wanted to invite him in to have our own little party, but my better judgement willed it away. Instead, I went straight to my room, pulled out my little friend, put some fresh batteries in, and went to work.

#robyn rihanna fenty #chris brown #fanfiction

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calliecat93 · 4 years

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Top 5 Things I Disliked About RWBY Volume 7

Well everyone, Volume 8 will soon be upon us. IDK about anyone else, but I’ve never been so anxious about a volume in the near seven years I’ve been watching this show. Not even V3 had me this nervous, and I knew by nature of it being a Tournament Arc that it was gonna be painful. But as we near the new volume, I want to reflect on the previous one. So I am bringing back my Likes/Dislikes posts… except this time I DON’T have to do twelve posts for six volumes in a week. Only gotta do one Volume for today and tomorrow. Phew!

While V6 remains my favorite volume,V7 was a very well done one and by far the best written thus far. It was honestly super hard to pick five things I didn’t like, and are all pretty minor honestly. Heck I expect V8 to address some of these since V7 was clearly the build-up. But I did manage to make a Top 5 Dislikes List. As always, this is just my personal opinion and you are free to disagree with me. Take everything here with a grain of salt. Anyways, that’s enough exposition. Let the countdown begin~!

#5. Too Many Characters/Lack of Focus

RWBY has a lot of characters. A lot, loooot of them. You can tell it’s an anime for that reason alone, haha. Volume 8 thought might be the winner in the amount of it’s cast. We have our main cast, which consists of nine characters already (ten if you count Ozpin and eleven if you count Maria), which is already a lot to keep up with. But in this volume we have Ironwood, Penny, Winter, the Ace-Ops, Pietro, Robyn and her Happy Huntresses, the Schnee Family, Watts, Tyrian, and the list goes on. And those are just the relevant ones.

To the show’s credit, the volume mostly handles the focus well. They make sure that ones like Ironwood and Penny get a proper amount of focus considering their importance in this volume specifically. They also do a lot to showcase characters like Robyn, Clover, and Marrow so that we understand what they’re like and care about them, which makes how things end up even sadder. That being said, it did cause some of cast I think to get the short end of the stick a bit. Characters like Maria and Jaune pretty much got barely anything, and Blake and Yang would have also been out of luck if not for their talk with Robyn in Chapter 7. Some of the Ace-Ops, like Elm and Vine, and the Happy Huntresses who aren’t Robyn also didn’t get a lot of focus and the latter especially only got bare minimum glimpses into their personalities. Even with characters I was happy with like Ruby, Weiss, Ren, and Nora I feel could have had more done with their arcs here (the latter two especially but we’ll get tot hat later) had there been less characters and/or more time.

This is Number 5 because not only is it a minor issue, but it’s kind of inevitable. Shows only get so much time and the characters we focused on needed that time. Ironwood’s downfall wouldn’t have been nearly as powerful if it weren’t center stage. It’s one of those hard choices where you want to see more, but the show just had other things that took priority for the sake of both production and the story. Ultimately, it was the right decision and at most just makes me wish there was more.

#4. Emotionally Draining

Again, minor. I wasn’t even sure if I should add this because really I think it’s more of a personal thing than anything. But I failed to come up with another option, so... gotta take what I can get.

As good as this volume was, it was a VERY emotionally draining one. It was probably the only time I was kind of happy when it was over because ie meant a chance to breathe until V8. There’s the whole political plot that hit way too close for comfort, Tyrian’s murder spree and Penny’s framing, Ironwood’s downfall, everything from the halfway point of Chapter 11 to the end. Heck eve the first two chapters, and even bits of 3 and 4, were super tense and on edge. We had plenty of light-hearted and fun moments in the beginning. But by Chapter 6, that came to an end (or I didn’t find funny, like JNR’s antics in Chapter 8, sorry guys) and it was V3 again, but somehow even more on-edge.

Like I said, this isn’t really a dislike and is on here because I couldn’t think up anything else. As I said, the writing was very strong and on-point. I was nervous, but I’m pretty sure that’s because the writers wanted the audience nervous. They wanted us to feel the tension and fear. hey wanted us to be as conflicted about everything as the characters that we were watching. It was effective too. But it did leave me relieved that it was all over. I didn’t watch V7 in full again until recently when I got my Blu-Ray copy to put into perspective how drained I had been. I was fine upon rewatch, but yeah... way to rise up my stress levels CRWBY!

#3. The Ren/Nora Conflict

This is related to the Number 5 section. I think we can all agree that Ren and Nora tend to get the short end of the stick compared to Jaune and the rest of the main cast. V4 was an improvement, but 5 and 6 returned them to minor supporting roles and even V4 did more for Ren than Nora imo, who to this day is imo the least developed of the main cast. But clearly they wanted to start changing that, and given Jaune more or less got closure last volume it seemed like an ideal time to give the two development, especially where their relationship is concerned.

While Nora was overall fine, Ren... not so much? They do a god job setting up the two’s conflict, albeit the cliché ‘girl compliments boy, boy ignores her as they’re in the middle of something else’ joke in Chapter 3 was dumb. But Chapter 6 made it clear that there was far more going on. Nora is pushing to help Mantle and in the following chapter we have her snap at Ironwood for forcing so much sacrifice on it, but not on Atlas itself. Ren however is closed off (more tha usual), focus more or less solely on the task, is clealry afraid of their uncertain battle against Salem, and even seems to side with Ironwood in Chapter 7. It’s the first major conflict between the two with Nora just trying to get Ren to talk to her. She even finally kisses him... and we all know what happens after that.

The main issue here is two things. One, we NEVER get any clarity on why Ren is acting so cold to Nora, the one person he was always open around (well... for him anyways). I mean I have a good idea why and I’m 99% sure that V8 is going to go into it, but without any clarity it just comes off as him being unfair to Nora who is just concerned for him. The other issue is there is no closure to 9it. We have the final chapter where Ren tries to fight Neo, but as she’s disguised as Nora it goes badly. The poor boy is tearful, snaps at Nora when she tries to calm him down, and it ends in the boy looking like he’s about to have a nervous breakdown. It’s heart-wrenching, but still ultimately leaves the conflict unresolved. Plus we had a pretty large gap between the Renora Kiss (Chapter 6) and that moment (Chapter 13) with some brief moments sprinkled in. Otherwise, Ren acted as we’d expect even with the goofy plan in Chapter 8 where he seemed unusually chill considering. So it just kinda feels like for a while they... forgot about it.

This is right in the middle because as I said, I expect Volume 8 to go more into this. They’ve outright said that if there was something we were confused by or felt didn’t go anywhere, Volume 8 was going to address. This was set-up, and it leaves me anxious to see how things will go with these two especially going off the brief lines we heard in the trailer. But it still sucked that we got no closure and didn’t go further into why Ren is acting like he is. I know I was unsure of how to feel when it was all over. But I guess we’ll see the final result soon enough.

#2. The Truth Revelations

If you were reading my Volume 7 reviews, you know that I REALLY did not like how Chapters 9 and 10 were done. Why? Because of the truth reveals. Now I now know why t was handled like it was, which actually saved it from being out at Number 1 on the list. But does that change me opinion of it? Nope.

First, I want to talk about how it more or less began. That being Blake and Yang revealing the Amity Project to Robyn in Chapter 7. While I DO like them taking matters into their own hands instead of being complacent, I STILL have major issues on how they didn’t talk to Ruby and Weiss about it. I’ve heard the arguments about it, but imo when we have Yang having major hang ups with lies and half-truths (it’s why she was enraged at Oz), her and Blake seeming to pull the same thing... doesn’t look good. There is zero on-screen indication that they let the other sin about it later, which had they done so then the group could have planned proper steps in helping the two sides which may have caused Ironwood to not jump off the slippery slope as badly. Will V8 mention this? IDK, but it does bother me and I would like it addressed especially concerning the themes of trust.

Then we get to Chapters 9 and 10, where my issues go into effect. Robyn drops the hostility and reveals her knowledge of the project, but wants to try and work with Ironwood. The heroes reveal everything to Ironwood and while understandably shocked, he otherwise takes Salem being unkillable well. Then the two leaders reveal this to Mantle, using Robyn’s Semblance to prove it, and... that makes the citizens okay. Yeah... even knowing what happens later I still have issues with this. Because even with that knowledge, there was NO GOOD REASON fo AY of this to go well.

Robyn may know why Ironwood was depleting Mantle resources, but it doesn’t change that he caused a LOT of damage to Mantle due to it. Ironwood, despite his expected reaction coming later, still took the Salem news far too well especially considering how on-edge of her he’d been at that point. The citizens of Mantle know about Salem, but not why ironwood was depleting resources. Plus it doesn’t change that he was a borderline tyrant towards them and he didn’t try explaining that part to them. The fact that THAT calmed them down so easily, even with Robyn’s presence, just came off as... too easy.

Which it was. All of this was an elaborate psyche out. We think that things are finally going well... then Chapter 11 happens, and it goes downhill from there. Can’t lie, they got me. Chapter 11 was a HUGE gut-punch for that reason. As such, I decided to put this at Number Two. But it’s only because of the psyche out. It was still done to make the shock effective and while it worked, it doesn’t change that it felt like things got downplayed far more than they should have. Still, it saved this form taking the top slot. So what DID make it? Well...

#1. Willow Guilting Weiss

For a character that only got one major appearance, Willow left one Hell of an impact. All we knew about her prior was an off-handed remark by Whitley in V4 that implied that she was an unhappy drunk. Here? We see exactly what Jaques has done to this poor woman. She’s a drunk, unhappy, and her expression just screams exhaustion and broken. She knows that she did nothing for her children once she broke, something Weiss makes very clear, but she does make some amends by giving Weiss her Scroll and the evidence needed to expose Jaques and Watts, She’s even relieved when We3iss confirms that she’s never returning for good. It’s a very powerful scene that in minutes makes Willow one of the saddest, sympathetic characters in the show.

I do have one huge problem, however. That’s when she leaves. She has one request for Weiss, and that’s for her to not forget about Whitley. While it’s been becoming more and more clear that Whitley is a scared kid who has been just as abused by Jaques as his sisters, he WAS still a cocky jerk to Weiss. He was never nice to her, and when he was it was for his own benefit. He had zero issue rubbing into Weiss her misfortune in V4 after the concert and how he’s the new heir. Of course Weiss wouldn’t like him and be justified in believing that he didn’t like her. When she points that out, this is Willow’s line:

Of course not. You left him here... with us.

Yeah, this really pissed me off and I think is a problem on the writer’s end. They want to have Weiss realize, like the audience is, that Whitley is like he is because unlike her and Winter, he can’t escape, has none of the abilities that they do, and is thus still a prisoner and under his father’s control.. He succumbed to it instead of fight or get away because that was all that he could do, and hating his sisters kept him in his father’s favor. It’s all very understandable and yes, having Weiss realize this and make an effort to try and help Whitley would show how much she’s changed and allow the Schnee Family to all break free form Jaques once and for all.

But the way the line is worded make it feel like Willow, and in turn the narrative, is gui9lting Weiss into not realizing this and not helping Whitley prior. Umm... no. Hell no. Weiss was under zero obligation to help her brother, who at the time portrayed himself as an egotistical snake to her. He rubbed his success in her face. he rubbed getting the title in her face. He was even trying to do so again in the very same chapter Willow was introduced. Weiss HAD to help herself. And unlike her, who as far as we know never hated Winter and the two always treated each other well, as far as we can tell Whitley never had that relationship with them and we don’t know if he ever tried. Jaques made sure that Whitley and his sisters would be divided, and Weiss shouldn’t feel guilty at all for not seeing this.

I get why some may get after Weiss and what Willow was trying to hint to her. We know that Whitley is a victim. We know that because he had no one, he became the way he is. He still has hope, but Weiss is the only one in any position to get him the help that he needs. I expect V8 to go into this, especially since Weis sis why Jaques is now in prison and took away the only figure that Whitley had (a HORIRBLE one, but still the only). However Weiss did what she could in her position, and doesn’t have the advantage of NOT being in the audience to everything. Do I expect her to realize all of this and try to get Whitley to as well? Yes, and it’ll be her character coming full-circle as well. But did she deserve to be guilted? Hell No. Don’t think it was intentional, but it still rubbed me the wrong way and I still don’t like that bit. Thus, it is the moment I dislike most in RWBY Volume 7.

Okay, that’s it for now. Tomorrow, I’ll post my Top 5 Likes. Which trust me, I got plenty of ‘em~! See you all then~!

#rwby #rwby reviews #rwby musings #callie reviews #top likes/dislikes

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wishingforatypewriter · 6 years

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Between Us (Chapter 4)

Summary: It’s the night before the opening of Shino’s New York, and chef de cuisine Souma receives two very different pieces of advice.

It was just after 2:30 am when Souma made it back to his small Queens apartment. The soft opening of Shino’s New York was tomorrow—tonight, technically—and it had occurred to him ten minutes before he was supposed to go home that the tables were arranged all wrong.

He was just locking the door behind him when Megumi padded out of the bedroom, rubbing her eyes. She wore a navy blue bathrobe and fuzzy slippers, and her hair hung loose around her shoulders.

Souma grinned upon seeing her, and leaned down to kiss her forehead. “Sorry I woke you.”

“It wasn’t you,” she said, smiling a little. “The upstairs neighbors were playing dubstep.”

“Again?”

She nodded. “I climbed up the fire escape and gave them a stern talking to, so it should be okay from now on.”

Souma raised his eyebrows a bit at this. Even after three years, she still surprised him every single day. “Hope you didn’t scare ‘em too much.”

“Just enough.” Megumi giggled a bit, and then stifled a small yawn. “What kept you out so late?”

“More stuff at the restaurant,” he said, shaking his head. There was always something to attend to —the fonts on the menus, the cushions on the seats, the lighting. This was nothing like running the diner with his pops.

“Are you coming straight to bed or do you want something to eat first?” Megumi asked. “I can cook if you’re too tired.”

“Actually, I’m gonna try revising the recipes for one or two of the menu items.”

A small crease formed between Megumi’s brows. “Souma-kun.”

“I’ll only be a couple of minutes,” he assured her, “an hour tops, but you should get back to bed. Executive chef’s work is never done, right?”

Megumi shrugged a bit, as if to say she knew he was deflecting and she wasn’t having any of it.

“You and Shinomiya-senpai spent all summer working on that menu. Everything on it is world class cuisine, and I can say that because you had me taste test at every stage.”

Just then, she took his left hand in her right, drew the kanji for person with her thumb, and left a lingering kiss on the center of his palm.

Souma sighed, feeling a bit of the stress leave him. “Tadokoro—”

“It’s not like you to be so anxious, Souma-kun,” she said. “No matter what, tomorrow is going to be fine.”

With that she went back into the bedroom, leaving the door cracked behind her. It was a quiet invitation; she wouldn’t push the matter more than that.

Souma was poised to follow her in when his phone started ringing. It was an international number, the country code for which he couldn’t quite place. Thinking it was one of the restaurant’s ingredient suppliers, he decided to pick up. It’d take five minutes, ten. He’d catch Tadokoro before she fell asleep again.

“Hello?”

“I read in Food & Wine that your opening’s today.”

Of all the voices in the world, Souma hadn’t expected hers to be the one on the other line. “Nakiri?”

It had been nothing but radio silence from her since graduation, even in the group chat with Alice, Hayama, Arato, and Kurokiba.

“Just calling to remind you not to fuck up.”

“I’ll try not to.” He laughed. “Where the hell are you now anyway?”

“Abu Dhabi. At brunch.”

“Nice.” Souma could see her now, walking away from an ornate table overflowing with delicacies she knew she could have made better. He paused for a moment. “Nakiri, let me ask you something.”

She sighed into the receiver. “If you must.”

“Hypothetically, let’s say you’re opening a restaurant, and you’re considering making a last-minute change to the menu.”

“I’d say it’s generally inadvisable,” Erina replied, and he could hear her measuring her words the way she did sometimes, like she wasn’t sure how much of the answer she’d give him this time. “And wildly eccentric. It would be a huge inconvenience to the printers, the serving staff, the sommelier.”

Souma nodded a few times. “You’re right about that, but—”

“I’m not finished,” Erina said. “Doing something like that would be a huge risk and cause immeasurable trouble for all parties involved, but at the same time, I’d never put out a dish I’m not fully confident in.”

“So what you’re saying is—”

“I’m saying you don’t have time to be talking to me right now, Yukihira-kun. Now get to work. It’d bring shame upon the academy if you were to sully the reputation of Shino’s.”

Then, in classic Nakiri fashion, she hung up before he could thank her. Souma knew better than to try the number again.

He shook his head, then headed towards the kitchen. There’d be no rest if he wanted the reviews to leave his rival speechless from halfway across the globe.

“Sorry about that,” Erina said as she returned to her table. Across from her was Elaine Shiraz, a young culinary blogger she’d befriended on her travels.

“No worries,” she assured. “But did I hear you mention Shino’s just now? One of my colleagues is covering the New York opening tomorrow and I’m about to die from jealousy.”

Erina shook her head a little. “I did mention it.”

“Everyone at True Taste is freaking out because Chef Shinomiya picked a new graduate as chef de cuisine over his tried and tested sous chefs in Paris and Tokyo.”

At this, Erina smiled a bit. It wouldn’t make much sense to North American publications like True Taste Magazine. For those outside of Totsuki and its affiliate organizations, Yukihira Souma had been an unknown until this year’s BLUE. “Your fellow correspondent will understand when she tries his cooking.”

“That’s right,” Elaine said, taking a small sip of her mimosa. “You and this Chef Yukihira were schoolmates. Tell me, what kind of cook is that person?”

With a sigh, Erina polished off the second bellini she had to order to work up the nerve to call him, and then waved the waiter over to bring her a third. “What I’m about to say stays off record,” she explained, a hint of a threat in her voice.

Elaine nodded. “That goes without saying. Your friend Hisako made me sign an airtight contract after we first met in Madrid.”

Of course she had.

Even when she was working fifty hour weeks and earning a degree in Nutritional Science, Hisako still somehow found the time to mother her.

“The thing about Yukihira is he’s an impertinent upstart, and his style is woefully pedestrian, but despite all that…” She sighed. There was no easy way to put this. “In the kitchen, he’s a genius. His dishes change people, and I have to say that I had no particular love of food or passion for cooking before I met him.”

When she finished speaking, Erina downed the third bellini in one go, her face flushed beyond belief. She had never admitted all of that to anyone, not even Hisako.

“Follow up question,” Elaine said.

“Go.”

“Are you two still together? Because I was going to set you up with someone. He and my boyfriend are gonna be at the Emirates Palace later tonight.”

“Yukihira and I never dated; we never will.” At this point, Erina was contemplating a fourth drink. “And who is this person you wanted me to meet?”

“Only the son of the world’s biggest luxury aircraft supplier,” she said. “He studies business at Oxford and bankrolls a charity dedicated to stamping out hunger—not to mention the fact that he’s a huge foodie—”

“Only plebs call themselves foodies.”

“Sorry, a huge culinary enthusiast. And he can’t wait to meet you—if you’re up for it, that is.”

Erina made a face, stewing as she considered her options. The devious voice in the back of her mind, which sounded suspiciously like Alice, screamed that it was about time for her to have some fun. “What’s he look like?”

Elaine pulled up a picture on her phone, and Erina was immediately stunned by the worldly-looking gentleman in the impeccably tailored suit. This was exactly the kind of person she could have pictured herself with before that red-haired fool came along and ruined her.

She knew just by looking that she’d go through the motions with this man, allow him to court her and date him for just under a year. If upon dumping him she could convince herself to feel the slightest bit sad, she’d know that it was working, and try again with the next well-connected gentleman she’d meet through a third-tier friend.

“Attractive enough,” she said. “I’ll meet him.”

And to make sure the attraction stuck, she would be sure to ignore all her favorite culinary magazines and blogs for the next several days.

#shokugeki no soma #sorina #soueri #soumegu

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eerythingisshaka · 6 years

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Wakanda Got Y’all Pt. 6

[Black Panther x Insecure Mashup]

Part 1 Part 2 Part 3 Part 4 Part 5

Word Count: 3.2k

Warnings: Some smut pops off. This a Molly chapter, btw!

Molly sits in her office typing up a deposition for a case she is working on. She sits back rubbing her eyes out of exhaustion from all of the meetings and paperwork she has had to thumb through this week, her vacation could not come soon enough. Molly reaches for her phone to check her messages for the umpteenth time. Erik hadn’t hit her back since she followed Issa’s basic advice of texting him first to make plans. Molly knew Issa had no clue what she was talking about. The only message she got was from Issa asking about some girls night get-together with the crew, date tbd. That was definitely a big mood for Molly at the moment: bougie wine and apps for half price happy hours.

When Molly headed home that evening, she stopped by the doggy babysitter to pick up Flavor Flav.

“Hey, man! You have a good time with your homies and girlfriends today?” Molly smiles, petting him lovingly.

The doggysitter looks at her wearily. “Mr. Flav is definitely a casanova to say the least.”

Molly shrugs. “Thankfully he is neutered cuz bitches be crazy, right?” Molly cackles to herself as the doggysitter walks away stone faced.

Molly rolls her eyes as she walks out, talking to Flavor Flav. “Snooty ass. Your little self lucky I get a discount here, or you’d be in the hood where the real ones at.”

As Molly walks towards her car, a person catches her peripheral across the street. She does a double take before recognizing the gentleman. Erik in the plain daylight with a little Boxer puppy dog in his arm walking up the street, looking too good in his classic distressed jean jacket and shades. Molly ducks on one side of her car to avoid being spotted. She curses under her breath as she looks through windows to track his path. Erik looks behind him for traffic before starting to cross the street, causing Molly to unlock her doors and fly in the backseat of her car to out Flavor Flav in his carrier. Instead of going around the car to get into the passenger door, she tries climbing over the front seats to make for a smooth getaway. Unfortunately, her elbow landed on the horn, causing a loud honk.

“Shit!” Molly says with her eyes closed before peeking to see Erik peering at her in her car.

“Aye, Molly!” Erik says, flipping his shades off, grinning like they were old friends seeing each other for the first time.

Molly straightens herself up in her seat and lets the window down. “Hey, wassup?” she asks.

Erik leans in with his puppy. “Nothing much right now. I didn’t know you had a dog.”

Molly nods, bucking her eyes. “Yup. He’s pretty quiet, so I can see how you may have ignored him….” Molly lets her statement linger, hoping the underlying message is louder.

Erik peers at Molly biting his lips to fight back a smile. “I see. Look, I got your text but I didn’t hit you back cuz I didn’t want to come off too...thirsty. I mean, we had fun at the diner spot and your apartment, but I couldn’t gage your signals either.”

Molly thinks back on the vodka tonics she drank with the blunt she had via Erik’s stash and it may have messed with her judgment a little. “No, it was fun...for me. I didn’t want it to end but you pulled some psychology shit on me that had me second guessing.”

Erik’s puppy fights his hands to get to Molly, but Erik holds it close. “Uh huh. And I mean that shit. I don’t wanna fuck you up with a good time cuz you timid acting all of a sudden.”

“That’s why I texted you soooo…I’m making an appointment...” Molly says.

Erik looks at Molly a moment too long before looking away smiling. “Aight. That’s what I wanna hear. For future reference ‘hey big head’ isn’t something I respond to so...”

Molly clutches her pearls looking fake hurt. “J’accuse me of these things? What is the meaning of this?”

Erik reaches for his pocket. “I can give you physical evidence if that’s necessary. Read receipt and all.”

Molly puts her hands up to block his phone. “Nah, nah, nah. It ain’t gotta be like that. You good on any MLK boulevard out here.”

“Uh huh, that’s what I thought. So, where to Moll?” Erik puts his puppy down on the seat as it still bucks to fly towards Molly.

Molly shrugs, petting the dog a little as it licks her hand. “I don’t know, you puttin me on the spot. What’s his name by the way?”

“HER name is Missy, and she my main bitch, just so you know. And there you go pussy-footin around. You let me pick, it might be Waffle House with Kelli and Baku again if you playin.”

“No! Hell no, anything but that! Kelli is a damn mess, and with him they are walking porn flick waiting to happen.

“Oh, you know what, if you ain’t got no ideas, I actually just thought of something you might like.” Erik says, picking Missy up.

Molly perks up in curiosity. “Whatchu thinkin?”

Erik wags a finger. “That ain’t the deal! You wanna know where you goin, you pick. Otherwise, I’ll tell you when we pullin up.”

Molly rolls her eyes. “Now, you know you can’t pull that shit today. I still don’t know you from shit else, so you gotta at least give me some hints.”

Erik thinks about it. “I mean I promise I won’t kill you? But if that ain’t enough, I’ll give you three guesses. Use em wisely.”

Molly plays with her keys in thought. “Is it a place of business?”

Erik half nods. “Yeah, yeah it is.”

“Ok, is it a crowded place?”

Erik bites his lip, shaking his head.

“Oh my God, Erik, if you playing me with some innuendo shit-”

Now Erik was clutching his pearls, laughing. “Come on! I don’t always joke about sex with you! Chill! Now was that a question, cuz you got one left.”

“No, uh uh! Ummm, should I eat before? Oh, is it like casual or formal?”

Erik looks at her disapprovingly. “Moll, that was like three questions, you better pick one with your indecisive ass.”

“Fine! Should I eat before?” Molly asks.

Erik chuckles. “Hungry ass...you could, but not heavy I’d say, just in case.”

Molly squints at him before putting her keys in the ignition. “Ok, Erik. When you tryna do this?”

Erik backs up off the car. “We doin this at 8pm tomorrow night. Don’t need your heels either, dress comfy.”

“Ha! You answered one of my other questions, bloop! I’m working on this project for work though, so no overnight shit unfortunately.”

Erik and Missy start down the sidewalk. “We’ll see. You might enjoy it that much.”

Next day Molly gets dressed for another night with Erik. She took a half day from work just because she could, and to get her entire body reupholstered for the evening. As she put her face and wig together, Molly talks to Issa on speaker.

“Awww, so you and Flavor Flav and his dog could go on playdates!” Issa squeals excitedly.

Molly clicks at Issa. “You know Flavor Flav is like middle aged right? He don’t wanna be associated with no high energy child.”

“Oh! Speaking of playdates, you down for the girls night right?”

Molly sets her face. “Yes, it’s been a minute since we all been together for a tea time, and we all got little situations and shit.” Molly cackles as she whips her wig on.

“We still whores in Tiffany’s eyes, just to keep up humble. But I’m not ready to call T’Challa a situation. We just made out and watched some shows until we started yawning. Plus now his ex is dropping hints and I don’t want that smoke.”

Molly’s eyes widen. “Oh shit, is she threatening you or something?”

“I mean, a little bit. She said it in riddles, but it as pretty clear she want T’Challa to stay single.” Issa mumbles.

Molly looks herself over in the mirror. Some cute pastel pink cuffed short shorts, a breezy blouse with a nice mid-plunge back and a long necklace with a simple circle/triangle charm. “Listen, I know they puttin money into We Got Y’all, but there is no reason for her to dig into your personal life. She don’t even know you like that.”

Issa snaps her fingers. “Yo, that’s right! She don’t know me! I should invite her to our girls night!”

Molly looks back at her phone in shock. “Excuse me?”

“It would be perfect! I haven’t gotten to know her yet, this way I could show her the real me and maybe even some more details on T’Challa.”

“You lookin to have a Real Housewives reunion is what you wanna do. I don’t want alcohol soaked bundles bitch, quit playin.” Molly says picking her phone up to make sure Issa heard it.

Issa shushes Molly. “No! We are co-workers, ain’t none of that goin down, we’ll be braiding each other hair by the end. You just worry about where dude is taking you out. I didn’t take you for the adventurous type.”

“Pssh, I’m not, trust me. But that’s what I’m tryna do, live a little. I keep my head in the books too much, I ain’t let loose in a minute. He just better act right.”

“Watch him pull you up to McDonalds for the dollar menu, haha!” Issa cackles.

“Tsk, bada ba ba BYE BITCH!” Molly hangs up on Issa with love in her heart for her friend. She was thinking the same thing, but she held faith this will at least be a good dick night if anything.

A few moments later, Erik texts her that he has arrived at her place. Molly tries to hold back her approval of his wheels as she gets in. “Hey, you’re on time. I didn’t know if you were gonna test me again like ‘do you really want me to come over?’ type shit or not.”

Erik scratches behind his neck flexing. “Hell nah, I got reservations girl!”

Pulling off, Molly looks over at Erik goofily. “Ahh, reservations huh? Good, I’m hungry as hell!”

Erik looks Molly down. “Shit, where the hell it all go. You always lookin for your next meal.”

Molly puts up a finger. “I will suppress that shade you just thrown so we are clear! My metabolism will not be shamed tonight, kind sir. Continue your route, this will be considered in your review.”

“Oh, so now I’m Driving Miss Daisy?” Erik smiles, light catching his gold fronts.

Molly stifles a laugh. “If you wanna dig into old aunty references, yeah. Let’s go Morgan!” she says with a handclap.

The drive out was so long that Molly almost fell asleep with the lull of the ride. She stirs when she feels Erik’s hand on her leg. “Aye, get up, we here.”

ERik undoes his seatbelt getting out. Molly checks her mouth for drool real quick, smoothing her hair before he opens her door. Taking his hand she looks around the airfield.

“Nigga, is this a airport?” Molly asks confused.

Erik chuckles looking out in the distance. “In a way. It’s private, so you ain’t seeing no flights come through any time soon.”

Molly chokes back a gasp, pointing at something in the distance. “Did you really set up a table over there? With the candles and shit?”

Erik shrugs sneakily, as he walks her over to the spot. Rose petals covered the tablecloth with shutes of champagne surround some chocolate covered strawberries. “I told you I had a reservation. The maintenance crew woulda lapped these up if I had been even a minute late.”

Erik takes a glass handing it over to Molly.

Molly sips, picking up a strawberry. “I mean, this just isn’t what I had in mind though. You got me speechless with this.”

Erik bites his lip, gazing into Molly’s face. “That’s fine, we ain’t gotta talk at all honestly.”

Molly almost chokes on her berry, sipping some more champagne. “Slow down, I mean this is nice, but did you really bring me out here to just talk and eat fruit?” Erik makes an O face, stepping back from Molly. “It’s nice I said! I’m just sayin though-”

“Ok, Ms. Annalise Keating! You need somethin to shock your system, you ain’t said nothin but a word. Let’s get high then.” Erik takes Molly’s drink and sets it on the table.

Molly shakes her head. “Uh uh, I told you I got work, Erik!” He wraps his arm around her waist as they walk, pointing ahead of them. “You see that bird over there?”

Molly can’t help but notice the single engine plane in the middle of the tarmac. “Oh shit…”

Erik starts laughing. “You remember I told you I’m a pilot, right? You bored and everything, let me show you the city from the sky, huh?”

Molly stutters feeling herself combust with sweat. “Erik, I’m not too good with heights.”

Erik goes to open a door, unfolding a set of stairs. “Once you get up in the sky, you won’t even be worried about it. You been on a plane right? Business meetings and alldat?”

“Yeah but-”

Erik reaches a hand out to Molly. “I’m tryna bring a little more excitement in your damn life. I don’t know what you been goin through, but I ain’t seen that air of confidence from when I first met you. Trust me on this, I ain’t gonna let us down, I got you.” Erik’s voice we barely above a whispers towards the end of his sentence, but Molly took a deep breath to hype herself up before walking towards him, placing her hand in his.

Getting into the second seat behind him, Erik helped to buckle her in properly, giving her knee a pat of reassurance as he closed the door. Getting into the front, Molly watched Erik as he buckled himself in, flipping switches and pushing buttons.

Molly starts to get nervous again. “How long have you been flying?”

“A little over ten years now. Started when I was at the Academy, did a little in the Navy.” Erik says, looking over his panel as the engine starts up.

Molly grips her seat, her voice quivering. “Oh yeah, military, that’s great. Land of the free, home of the brave.”

Erik looks over his shoulder. “You gonna be alright, breathe for me.”

Molly breathes out roughly and erratically. Looking at the tarmac illuminated by little lights gave her more anxiety as the plane began to move, circling the lanes.

“Ohhh my God, oh my God!” Molly yells out.

“Yeah, we on our way, just a while longer, you can take it.” Erik encourages her calmly.

“Wooo, no I canNOT! It’s too tight in here, I need air!” Molly exclaims.

Erik pushes the acceleration, getting ready for lift off. “You mess with any damn latches back there, I’m throwin your ass out myself. Don’t fuck with my shit!” Erik says authoritatively as they achieve lift off. Molly still woots and hollers as her stomach dips between her legs. Locking her thighs together, she sings praises to the Lord and Savior.

“See? Ain’t so bad. Look at the window, Moll.” Erik says.

Molly exhales as her head stops spinning. “We ain’t out the woods yet, nigga. But damn…” Molly’s voice is taken when she sees the city lights below her. “Damn, it’s like the stars are under our feet….oh shit, my head spinning again.” Molly takes a break closing her eyes.

Erik laughs. “We ain’t that high, you good. It’s beautiful though, right?”

“Uh huh. It really is.” Molly says peaking cautiously.

“This my favorite place to be. Up in the air, it’s the best view you can ever have. And it’s peaceful and quiet….usually.” Erik quips.

“Ok, you gotta give me credit for even getting in this thing. I didn’t promise to be cute and silent about it.”

“No, you didn’t. Got me there Ms. Keating, but I wouldn’t take it back for nothin. I finally got some realness outta you, no primpin or posh actin shit.”

Molly chuckles, wiping her brow as the high of adrenaline courses through her, stimulating her senses. “I ain’t never been a punk, remember that. Now I am ready to get down. Too much excitement and champagne.”

“Oh, you ready for the ground?” Erik starts to descend too sharply, making Molly feel it in her stomach again.

“Shit! Easy!” Molly screams out. Erik had full control of the reactions of her body with the mess he kept trying to pull from the cockpit.

“Yeah, you felt that one, huh?” Erik does an evil laugh as he descends properly onto the tarmac. Once they land, Erik lets Molly out of the plane down the little set of steps, looking frazzled as expected.

“Damn! Look at you! Lookin like you just went 12 rounds, girl!” Erik takes his finger, swiping it across Molly’s collarbone to dramatically measure who sweat before wiping it on his pants. Molly was so glad to finally be on the ground she practically lept into Erik’s arms, pulling him in for a tongue heavy kiss. Erik groaned in surprise, but quickly went with the flow as his hands traveled her back, tripping back on the set of stairs behind him.

Molly’s hands find his belt, unfastening it and his fly to gain access to his joystick. “Damn, you that hard al-fuckin-ready?” Molly has breathlessly as she undoes her shorts, pulling them down. Erik looks at her entranced, pulling his pants down further, stroking himself as she gets undressed. “Cuz I fuckin like you? Damn, just bring yo ass.”

Molly straddles him on the stairs, stretching herself over him as she clutches his shoulder and one side of the plane for stability. Erik grips Molly’s ass, willing her over him completely as he begins to work a rhythm with her. Molly shrieks with pleasure. “That’s it, gimme that big dick daddy long stroke!!”

Erik bites his lip as works his hips towards her, pummeling her walls in response. “Don’t fuck up my tempo, ride this shit out til I’m done!”

Molly could barely take it but did her best as she began to slouch weakly from the pleasurable contractions breaking her down to squeeze around him. Erik pulls Molly up by her neck to look him in his face as she came. Molly finds some residual strength to work her hips with his, licking on his mouth pleading for him to cum. Erik smacks her ass in retaliation, snarling and straining as his end drew near. Erik popped out of Molly, pulling Molly up to him as he jacked himself off, spilling his seed over her ass cheeks, grunting viscerally as he finished.

Erik looks up at Molly, letting out a deep breath, looking very relaxed. “Now that’s what the fuck I’m talkin bout Molly, shit!”

Molly felt all her walls coming down as her state of arousal hangs heavy like a fog. In a haze of bliss, Molly plays in his locs. “I know what you mean. You fucked the brokeness out my pussy real quick.”

Erik screws his face up. “The hell you talkin bout? Pussy broke?”

Molly shakes her head, trying not to ruin the moment with her and Issa’s inside joke. “I mean, you broke this pussy up, baby! Damn!”

Erik laughs, stroking her face. “You still hungry?”

Part 7

Masterlist

RagTag

@hbicprettyprincess @theunsweetenedtruth

@kimianostalgia @airis-paris14

@afraiddreamingandloving

@chaneajoyyy

@myfavemarvelfanfics

@nys30

@blkintrovert

@allhailnjadaka @cutewylie @bidibidibombaclaat @muse-of-mbaku

#shakafic #black panther fanfic #black panther au #black panther x insecure #insecure fanfic

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liawake · 5 years

Text

Day 130: Going Well

Day 130:

Good morning everyone,

It's that time of the week again, where our beds call us back but we have to get up and push through the day. That's right everyone, it's Monday. Anyways let's not focus on that, and let me tell you about my weekend and how it all became yet another frozen hell. Good ol' Canada once again surprised us with a snowstorm out of the blue, and it was like Christmas all over again. Hopefully, this is the last time for a few months.

Anyways if you were around on Friday, then you already know that I went into this weekend without much of a plan, and the same went for Friday. Well, I have updates and I did more then I had initially anticipated. So starting back on Friday, I spent the entire day proofreading the first draft of my upcoming story that's an adventure/romance novel. I spent most of the day on that, and then going into the weekend, I started yet another story. Before we get into the goals, I managed to get 6.7k words in and I may have written my longest chapter yet. Alright time to talk about goals.

Goal 1: Novel In Progress - As mentioned above I started a new novel this weekend, and I'm getting close to the 7k mark. That being said I'm questioning how this week is gonna go, since there are going to be hiccups, so, for now, I'm going to say I want to put in 9k words at the very least, 11k at best if everything goes well. I might be biased here but I do think it's going well, and I like the emotions that are going into it.

Goal 2: Advertising - When it comes to advertising my stories; The Thirty Pound Backpack & Blind Beauty things are making steps but nothing too crazy. Like I mentioned on Friday Blind Beauty ran a free promotion, and over the three days I'm glad there were still some people interested in taking a look at it and there'll be more free promotions in the future. This, however, was a good learning experience and something I'll remember for the future. That being said they're back to being $0.99 so it's definitely worth it if you like romance novel's or teen fictions, and if you pick up a copy, all I ask in return is if you could please leave a review since it would mean the world to me.

Goal 3: Editing - So here's where we hit a bit of a hiccup for this week because the first draft of my last story is ready to be edited. I'll be starting that on Thursday since I figure I'll have a fresh enough mind by then to go back into the story. Hopefully, that only consumes 2-3 days but who knows, and it'll also be a good break from my current novel in progress.

Overall that's pretty much all I have for you this Monday morning. If you read up to this point, I just want to say thank you, since it does mean a lot to have people interested in this and always remember that no matter what tomorrow will always be a different day.

Till next time,

- Li. A. Wake

Blogger Link: https://liawake.blogspot.ca/

#writers of tumblr #amwriting #booklr #writeblr #bookblr #personal #writing #writing community #writers network #writelr #writingcommunity #indie author #wip

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winryofresembool · 6 years

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Love Can Melt the Ice, ch. 12

Aka ice skating au ch. 12!

A/N: That’s right my peeps, this fic /finally/ has a name. I hope you find it fitting! (Obviously I’m not referring to literal ice this time, but instead a certain character who’s acting a bit cool sometimes :P) I don’t really have much else to say this time, enjoy and review! This chapter continues directly from the events of last chapter :)

Previous chapters: 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 5.5, 6, 7, 8, 9, 10, 11

Companion pieces (note: these are all post Olympics happenings so reading the main fic first is recommended): 1, 2, 3, 4, 5

Next chapter: [x]

Words: 1940+

Genre: flooof in this chapter, even a tiny bit of humor? (I feel we are back to ch 1 in a way)

Warnings: swearing and some drinking on the background

“So, how’s everything going, brother? How’s your leg?” Al asked when he and Ed made their way into a quieter corner in the room. With the room full of Ed’s teammates and music playing loudly, it was hard to hear your own thoughts, but the brothers decided to at least try since they had a lot of catching up to do.

“I wish I could already get rid of the cast, but other than that, it’s fine. I just want to skate already.”

“I’m sorry, brother,” Al said with genuine sympathy. “Hey, I brought something to cheer you up.”

Al handed Ed a gift bag and he took it curiously. Inside it was a book that Ed recognized as one he had wanted for a long while, Advanced Biochemistry, but much to Ed’s surprise, it wasn’t the only gift. There was something between the book. Two small, thin foliage packages that must have had…

“Al!” Ed yelled with a red face. “How the fuck did you… why… what the hell is this supposed to mean?!”

“Thought you’d need some extra protection with the way your love life has been progressing…” Al chuckled. “I know you well enough to know that you’d never have the guts to get them by yourself.”

“Oh my God. I can’t believe you. We aren’t even dating!”

“It’s funny you say that when you both are practically undressing each other with your eyes every time you look at each other.” Al pointed out, nodding towards Winry significantly.

“I’m not… Fine, she’s hot,” Ed said through his teeth, “but surely I’m not the only the only one who’s noticed that! Just look at Havoc trying to tell her jokes…”

“She doesn’t look too impressed,” Al noted. “Oh, look at that, she’s coming here. Hi there, Winry!”

“Hi guys.” She turned to Ed and noted his mortified expression. “Why are you so red? You sure you don’t have a fever or something?”

Ed didn’t have time to answer when Roy started speaking into the mic and everyone turned their attention to him.

“So, as you all know, we have all gathered here to celebrate the 18th birthday of our very own Fullmetal Forward, Edward Elric. Congrats, kid! Now that you’re officially allowed to buy alcohol, don’t forget the promise you made me!”

“Hah, you haven’t won anything yet!” was Ed’s immediate response, and everyone burst out laughing.

“Anyway, I’d like to suggest we sing for the birthday boy. Everyone, on the count of three. One, two, three.”

Roy gave his sign, and the choir of more and less talented singers started: “Happy biiirthday too you, happy biiirthday too you…”

Ed felt a bit overwhelmed when a room full of people sang for him but waved his thanks when they finished. Soon Roy continued speaking to the crowd:

“Before we let Fullmetal give us, without a doubt, a very amazing speech, there are a couple of other people in this room as well we should congratulate. The little birds have told me that in less than a year this team will have a brand new member. Congrats, Maes and Gracia! Your kid will without a doubt become an amazing skater.”

Nearby, Maes started rambling about the greatness of his future wife to anyone who was willing to listen, but Winry barely noticed because she squealed happily at the news and rushed to hug Gracia who had been approaching the trio.

“A baby! That’s absolutely wonderful! I’m so happy for you guys!”

“Aw, thanks Winry-dear. I got the confirmation from my doctor about an hour after the free skate. I’m gonna have to discuss this with him and Maes, but with this piece of news, I think I might skip the individual competition.”

“But you would have done amazingly…” Winry said, upset for her friend.

“Maybe, but I’ve seen you skating and I dare to say you would beat me 9 times out of 10 these days. And I already won gold 4 years ago, so really, I’m not too upset. How could I be when I look at him?”

She turned to see her fiancé flailing as he told Riza, the only person patient enough to listen to him ramble for ages, how he would decorate the baby’s room and how he secretly (or not so secretly) wished the baby was a girl.

Ed hadn’t had a chance to say anything while the women were chattering, but now he decided it was his turn to get himself heard.

“Congrats, Gracia! I’m sure you’re gonna be a great mother, but I’m a bit worried about your fiancé. I bet he’s that person whose locker will be 100% covered with photos of the kid and he’ll forget how to skate when he keeps staring at them.”

“Don’t worry, I will make sure to kick his butt if he starts slacking because of it,” Gracia smirked.

“That’s good to hear. But seriously, I’m happy for you guys. Babies are amazing!”

“Thank you. I think someone’s gonna be one lucky lady to be a mother to your kids in the future, Edward.” Ed wondered if it was just him or did Gracia look at Winry one second longer than necessary when she said that. And did she emphasize the word someone? He felt himself getting flustered for the second time within minutes and he was about to turn away when Winry asked, pointing to the pack still in Ed’s hand:

“Did you get a present from Al? What did he give you?”

“J-just a biochem book…” he stuttered and left before she could ask more questions. Damn Al. He’d show him. Speaking of the devil, Ed noticed his little brother was snickering almost uncontrollably nearby after seeing the scene between Ed and Winry unfold.

“Are you trying to kill me?” the older brother growled and punched Al on the shoulder when he got close enough.

“Relax, bro, it was just a joke! I won’t change my mind about you two though, I have never seen you this flustered over a girl before. It’s adorable. I didn’t have a chance to ask you earlier, so did you tell her?”

“Yeah, I did. I hate to admit it, but you were right. I do feel better now. And things… are going quite nicely.” He turned his head towards the spot where Winry chatted with her friends (Paninya and Rose had joined her and Gracia now) and Winry gave him a small smile.

“That’s great to hear,” Al interrupted Ed from his thoughts. “Hey, I heard Mustang saying something about a speech, so how about it?”

“Do I have a choice?” Ed sighed and wheeled to where the captain of his team was clearly waiting for him. Taking the mic from his hand, he started:

“It’s so weird to see so many of you here! To be honest, if it weren’t for a couple of friends, I wouldn’t even have remembered what day it is. And the worst part is that I’m not even allowed to drink because of my condition!”

Many of Ed’s teammates laughed. They knew Ed had never particularly cared about drinking.

“I’m not one for long speeches, so I guess thank you everyone for coming, and special thanks to that one gearhead who made this happen.” His gaze met Winry’s for a moment, and he thought he could see her blushing slightly. “Now, let’s have some fun! But not too fun…” His gaze stopped at Havoc this time. “… because some of you have a big game tomorrow!”

The guests chuckled and continued their partying. Mustang was now dancing with Riza, Havoc was having a drinking contest with Breda despite Ed’s warning, Armstrong was wiping his tears into a huge tissue, Paninya was trying to sneak a small bottle from Roy’s back pocket and Al was probably telling Winry some embarrassing stories about Ed. For some reason, all of that made Ed feel calmer than he had felt in a long while.

Later that evening, Winry was sitting alone on the balcony, enjoying the fresh, cool air when Ed appeared behind her.

“Hi.”

“Hi. Why are you sitting here alone?”

“I guess I just wanted a moment to hear my thoughts. No offense, but you hockey players are loud.”

“You’re not wrong about that.” Ed rubbed the back of his head. “But your friends are kinda interesting bunch as well. You should have seen Havoc’s expression when that Paninya chick made a show of kissing Rose right in front of him. It was almost as if his hopes and dreams had both been shattered into pieces and fulfilled at the same time.”

“Oh, that definitely sounds like a Pan thing to do,” Winry laughed. “They’re great though. After losing my parents they’ve become like a new family to me. I guess you could say the same about your team.”

“I guess…”

“You said you have tried to push people out of your life, but you know, one way or another, you have affected all of them,” she gestured towards the full room. “They all care about you. And for some weird reason, so do I. You don’t have to carry your weight alone.

“Yeah…”

“I guess what I really wanted to tell you after our chat earlier is that if you think you’re the only person in this world who’s feeling guilty about something, I have some news for you. For so many weeks, I kept thinking that things would be so different if I had simply told my parents to not go into that car. Finally, my granny wrenched some sense into me and told me that I can’t change my past, but I can chance how it affects my future. It didn’t sink into me right away, but I understand what she meant now. I’m not saying that I’m never thinking about it anymore, because that’s a lie, but I know my parents would want me to live my life, so that’s what I’m doing. And that’s what you should do as well.”

Ed stared at her with surprise. He realized Winry’s words were very similar to the ones he had used when confronting Rose, but he wasn’t living by his own advice.

“I probably deserved that.”

“Yes, you did.” Her tone got softer when she continued: “By the way, I want you to know that I’m not going anywhere. We are way past that point now.”

For some reason, Winry’s statement made Ed remember the realities of their situation, and he asked: “How are we gonna stay in touch after the Olympics, though? We are both busy with our sports, traveling on different sides of the country and sometimes even out of country.” “Phones exist, Elric. If you know how to use one. And it’s not like I’m always gone, there are off-seasons, breaks, and so on… And to be honest, at the moment I can’t say how long I’m gonna continue my skating career. I’m kinda itching to move onto mechanics soon enough.

“Sounds like you have already given a lot of thought to your future.”

“What about you, though? Do you have any plans?”

“I want to continue playing as long as I can and study as much as I can. Maybe I have some other wishes as well, but… one day you might know.”

“You think so?”

“Yeah.”

Ed leaned his head against hers and wrapped one of his arms around her shoulder. They stayed like that for a good while, until the tender moment was interrupted by a crash inside the restaurant.

“What was that?” Winry asked worriedly.

Ed just sighed. “I think it’s time to take Havoc back to the hotel.”

#edwin #edward elric #winry rockbell #my fics #fullmetal alchemist #ice skating au #that has a name wooo!#i'm so stupid happy about that #ps. sorry for the possible typos

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gaycrystalfemme · 6 years

Text

Power Couple

Chapter 2: Flashbacks

I can't wait forever.

With that thought, Blue got distracted from finishing the last article of the thick law book she had been studying. She'll be taking the bar exam in a few weeks and getting held up over such irrelevant thoughts were detrimental.

Bzzzzzt!

Her phone vibrated. A message. It read:

"Honey, your whereabouts? I'm at the Stardusk café, currently. Would you care to join me?"

Blue started dialing Yellow's number. Before it was answered, Blue gently cleared her throat and adjusted her voice to a whisper. "Yellow. Yes, darling, I... Oh. Yes, as of the moment, I am at the library. I'd love to join you but what time will you be.. Oh. Yes, okay."

Yellow. She had fancied Yellow for the longest time since they were younger. And yes they were both female, but that did not deter her from harboring romantic feelings towards Yellow.

Not straight, huh? Oh, but there is no other way. There is no one else I'd be with if not my Yellow!

Blue would have this dialogue in her head every time she found herself questioning her feelings for Yellow. A glorious day it was when Yellow finally confessed. It was one of Blue's most prized memories.

~ ~ ~

Years Ago

"Blue, I.. Can we speak after etiquette class?"

Summer time, it was supposed to be leisure time for normal kids. But they were not normal kids. They were members of the handful elite.

Young Yellow is studying culture, languages, and etiquette over the summer. Her friend, Blue, is also doing the same. They were in different classes though.

They spend the few months at a prestigious academy, known only to the very wealthy, honing and learning new skills. However, what mattered most was their status, their image, the expansion of their empires, their ability to lead. They had to be perfect.

Blue could not concentrate. Ra, La, or was it Fa? She was looking at Chinese characters but nothing seems to click in her head aside from what Yellow left open-ended earlier.

What is she going to tell me? Could it be that she has a boyfriend I don't know about? Did she agree to date the guy who owns the winery? Or the son of the owner of the Yacht club? Or worse, could White have set her up with a groom of her choosing?? Should I confess my.. Oh my lord, what am I gonna do?!

Over the years of befriending and getting to know Yellow, Blue gradually saw her as more than a mere friend. She began seeing Yellow in a romantic light. Perhaps due to their conversations, maybe their shared appreciation in fashion, maybe Yellow's hidden compassion.

One time, Yellow shared her juice box with Blue just because she knew Blue loved that so much. From then on, Blue felt a spark. It's like she's a person and not just some elite being. An equal to Yellow. On other occasions, Yellow would touch her shoulder or her back as a sign of camaraderie, and she'd have thoughts of their hands intertwining. Before she knew it she was secretly pining over Yellow.

By the bench at the school park, Yellow was seated waiting for Blue. She was usually stiff and serious even at a young age, but today she was obviously restless and sweating.

"Yellow, have you been waiting long? Sorry, I just got out of language class. I came as fast as I could."

"It's fine, Blue. Let's.. walk, shall we?"

Blue was nervous herself. Both of them walking side by side but awkwardly. Yet neither could take notice as they were both immersed in their own heads. There was an unspoken presence between them. Doubts, fears, uncertainties, feelings..

"Blue, I.."

They had been walking for a while, perhaps about thirty minutes, until they stopped in an empty and secluded patch in their academy. Since only very few enrolled during the summer, it seemed like the place was entirely theirs. Yellow held Blue's hand and, with all her might, looked Blue in the eyes.

"Blue, I have.." Yellow gripped Blue's hand tighter.

"Yellow? What.. What are you trying to say?" Blue's chest tightened with Yellow's grip. Flutter, uncertainty, confusion: all at once.

Yellow could no longer contain herself. She was always the type to attack. At that moment, she deemed words would be insufficient. She decided, instead, for a grand approach.

With her right hand still holding Blue's, Yellow stationed her other hand at Blue's shoulder for anchor. She pulled her subtly trembling body towards Blue. Their faces had never been this close. So close, she could smell Blue's breath and their noses could touch. Yellow closed her eyes and softly, for the first time, kissed Blue in the lips.

"Blue, I've.. I have feelings for you! And if this.. information would terminate our friendship, then so be it."

"Yellow.."

Blue was undeniably shocked with what just transpired. It took a few moments before she could grasp the situation.

"I feel the same, Yellow. For the longest time! I'm beyond the stars just knowing you feel the same way for me!"

"Blue, would you mind if we be exclusive?"

"I.. I love you, Yellow!" Blue sloppily and ungracefully lunged towards Yellow's face and sealed her response with an inexperienced kiss.

~ ~ ~

At the Stardusk Café

Where the hell is Blue?!

Yellow grew impatient by the second. Her temper was easily thrown off the window. Sometimes it was her weakness, sometimes her strength. She tried her best to manage it though, especially whenever the situation involved Blue.

While Blue was busy with the upcoming bar exam, Yellow was busy negotiating with various clients. She was expanding her business in Asia. And though they had been together for a while, it had become more difficult to see each other. Especially since they were building and expanding their careers.

Yellow's hotheadedness was mainly caused by the excitement and frustration to see her darling, Blue. She wanted to see her, to be with her. But there was too little time.

"Honey," Blue had finally arrived. Yellow's temper melted with the sight of Blue.

"Blue, you took long enough."

"What?! You told me eight. And it's just five minutes before eight! Pearl drove as fast as she could. Anyway, can we eat somewhere? All the studying left me famished."

"Okay, Blue. But I need to get home by ten. Ten thirty at most. I'll be meeting a client early tomorrow. You know, with Mr. Cho. It's a make or break for the company, so.."

"Yes, darling. I get it. I have to be early too. I'll be speaking with the current chief executive lawyer of the firm and review a few contracts so the turn over would be smooth once I pass the exam."

"Yes, of course."

They steadfastly left the café and went to dinner at the nearest fancy restaurant. After dinner, it was already past ten. So in compliance to Yellow's assigned curfew, they decided to go home. Yellow's assistant was driving them as Blue sent hers earlier after dropping her at Stardusk.

First route was to drop Blue off, then to Yellow's house. In the backseat of Yellow's gold car, Blue closed her eyes and rested her head on Yellow's shoulder. Yellow held Blue's hand.

"Yellow, this is becoming more difficult. We barely see each other and when we do it's always in a haste."

Sigh. "I know, darling. But that's how it's supposed to be. We both have huge responsibilities."

"But maybe we don't have to haste every time. Maybe we could still be influential figures to society and still have time for ourselves. Yellow I want to spend more time with you."

Yellow kissed Blue's hair, "What are you suggesting?"

"You might think I'm silly but.. I want to marry you, Yellow! I want to be married to you, I want you to be my wife. I've thought about this and probably we can get to spend more time at least. You would come home to me, I'd come home to you. Life would be.. perfect."

Blue had sounded casual even if she may have wanted to inject more emotion to what she had just confessed. She had began to feel the fatigue of the day's work.

"Are you out of your mind?!"

Yellow was in awe with what she just heard. Gently she pulled Blue away from her shoulder so they could face each other. It was obvious in her face that she was blushing.

"Are you suggesting.. we get married, Blue?!"

"Isn't that what I just said?"

"Of.. of course. That is unheard of!"

"But Yellow, it isn't. You know that. I don't suppose you enjoy our quick dates, do you? And what are we after this? It feels like we're just dating. For the next eternity, will we still be just dating? I want to be your wife! Do you not see that?"

Blue now all fired up with frustration from Yellow's response. She thought Yellow would want the same. It seems otherwise.

"Sorry if I lashed out like that. I'm.. I'm just.. tired," Blue submitted to defeat.

"No, Blue. Don't be. I'm sorry. Please know, I do want to be married to you too. We'll have to plan this, however."

"Yes, I know."

They arrived at Blue's mansion. As they approached the driveway, Blue tidied herself a bit before alighting the gold vehicle. There was a certain weight in the air from what they had just discussed.

She pecked Yellow goodbye but before she could turn away, Yellow whispered softly to her, "Blue, I.. I want to.. touch you."

"Oh. Then, uh, come. Stay with me tonight," she smiled softly but tiredly.

"Pearl, go home. I'll call you tomorrow when I need you. Be up early." Yellow took off with Blue, taking her fancy purse and laptop bag.

"Yes, Ms. Diamond." With that command, Yellow's assistant drove home without her.

"Do you have everything you need, honey? Paperworks? Contracts? Mr. Cho, tomorrow?"

"I believe everything is here," Yellow subtly tapped her laptop bag. "I'll just have Pearl bring whatever I left, if there is any. Perhaps a set of clothes! Is.. is it okay if I stay tonight? I feel like we need to.. talk."

"Pfft! You know it's fine."

This wasn't the like usual nights they'd have. Usually these quick dates would end up where they both go home separately. Occasionally, they'd come home to one's home and spend the night. But when and if they do, it had to be scheduled. Finding time for such an activity weren't as easy given the things they have to deal with on a daily basis.

Yellow suddenly felt the urge for Blue. Perhaps due to the pressure of her company's expansion. Perhaps due to Blue's upcoming bar exam. Or probably due to the marriage bomb Blue had just dropped earlier in the car. She wanted them to connect physically that night.

They both started making out and undressing each other once they reached the master bedroom. They couldn't stop touching and kissing each other. Not being able to do this for a while had its perks. They took a bath together, and, after doing so navigated to the bed.

Now, the only universe that mattered was theirs. They melted into each other's love and smooches and caresses. They moaned and screamed like there was no one else in the world. Blue had particularly felt like being on top was appropriate that night, so she took the role and made Yellow feel ecstatic beyond the heavens. After Yellow reached her peak, she made Blue feel heavenly as well. From the moment they reached Blue's room, it took probably two or three hours before they both finished.

Panting, both now sweating and were facing one another. Yellow cuppped Blue's cheek and softly kissed her.

"Blue. Let's.. get married."

"Yellow I thought-"

"Everything you said earlier in the car, I want that too! To come home to you and you to me, yes, I would love to be able to do that. I've always loved you, Blue. I don't think I can ever be with anyone else! Please, will you be my wife?"

"Yellow, I.. Yes! Of course!" Blue bursted in tears, but that of joy. Happiness she couldn't contain.

Yellow pulled Blue closer to encapsulate her in the warmest most loving hug. "It's settled then. We'll only hire the best."

A wedding was on the way.

Mrs. Diamonds. It sounded perfect for them both.

#bellow #bellow diamond #yellow diamond #blue diamond #su #fanfic #powercouplefanfic #gcffics #steven universe #powercouplefanfic chap2

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funkymbtifiction · 7 years

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Hi there :) I’m an ENFP that leaves dozens of unfinished projects in my wake. I know this and i feel terrible for never getting anything done. I really want to change. I’ve tried setting a schedule, bullet journaling, not allowing myself to not do anything until i finish a project... i haven’t found anything that actually consistently helps me. You’ve said you always finish things— what helps you get through the agony of working on something you’ve lost interest in so you can finish it?

Part of it relates to me choosing not to start anything I don’t think will hold my interest. If I’m super selective in what I commit to, that narrows down my things to finish considerably. Sometimes I’ll halfheartedly tag along with something for awhile and then realize, “This isn’t just me procrastinating, I actively DO NOT WANT TO DO THIS,” and I’ll bow out before I even start.

Me always finishing things is a slight exaggeration; I have a cross-stitch stuffed in the back of my closet from twenty years ago that I still have not finished. ;)

But writing-wise, yes, I finish what I start. I’ve thought a lot about WHY, and I think it relates to my Fi. I have known I was intended for a writer since I first started writing at eleven years old. It’s all I’ve ever REALLY wanted to do and be (not at all like those superficial childish indulgences of “I could be a lawyer,” or “I could be a dolphin trainer!” that came and went). If you want something bad enough, you will work hard to become good at it. You will show up every day to do it, even when you really don’t want to. It’s the same for anyone whose heart is truly in something – if you are a dancer, you dance, and dance, and dance, even when you don’t feel like it, because you can’t NOT dance. If you’re a musician, you play and compose and practice, because it means so much to you. Writing means everything to me. It means so much to me, I actively plan my week around it. I leave myself enormous chunks of time to do it. I have, on occasion, turned down social engagements because I knew I’d be happier at home, writing.

So for me, not writing, and not finishing what I am working on, is not optional – because I write not for my own benefit alone (though I love what I write)… I write to share it. And you cannot share something until it’s done… or at least, I don’t. I know that I have to work on nothing else except that one writing project at a time. I can’t let myself get distracted. So I obsess over it, I fill my mind with thoughts of it, I watch stuff related to the time period for ideas, I listen to music that keeps me in that mindset… and I set myself very short timeline goals to stick to, in order to get something done, because my brain, my Te, NEEDS TO SEE PROGRESS.

I have had friends tell me I should slow down, take more time off, write slower… I can’t. If I do, my intensity, my focus, will go away; I will become less interested in finishing and more interested in other things, and I’ll lose my mental focus. This is what works for me. I have trained myself to write (on that one project, whatever I’m working on) at least four days a week. Sometimes, I sit there for 5 hours at a stretch. Sometimes it takes me two hours to do a chapter. Sometimes it takes me 6. But I force myself to keep going. Because I want to see this story become REAL. Tangible. Something I can hold in my hands. Something I can send my friends. Something they can talk to me about. If it is never finished, I can never discuss it. I can never move on from it. It haunts me, like a half-painted wall.

Best thing you can do for yourself, if you’re a habitual starter but never finish anything is to figure out how long you can hold your interest, and aim for that. A week? Great. Make sure you can finish your project IN a week. 6 hours? Better make that a short story instead of a novella and sit there until you’ve finished it. As a Ne-dom, your brain moves fast. You are capable of putting out a lot of ideas in a very short amount of time. USE it. Taking 10 years to write a book is for other types. Do it in two months. You want to have some fun? Set a time limit and race yourself. How fast can you do this? How quick can you get it done?

How much do you really want to do it?

How much do you think you’ll really want to do it… next week?

How much do you think you’ll really, really want to still be doing it, next month?

What do you want to do, be? Your tendency as a Ne is “a little bit of everything,” but every single success book I’ve ever read says, “Figure out what you love most, and do that, pursue that, focus on that.” Which means, don’t waste your time on things you don’t love.

My father frequently complains that I do not have enough hobbies; it’s true. I don’t. I am 90% writer. Almost every single one of my hobbies ties in to writing. That’s who I am. I’m not ashamed of it. Nothing else interests me as much. Nothing else offers such a litany of words. Nothing else fosters ideas.

As for how to keep yourself motivated: find ways to make it interesting. If I get up and don’t feel like writing that day, I ask myself, “What would make you feel like writing this chapter? What needs to HAPPEN in it, to MAKE you excited to write it?” Ne likes discovery. Don’t think too far ahead, and if an idea makes you go “meh,” find another one. The best ideas always come back to you. I do not really lose interest unless I have left something alone too long; since Ne processes things so quickly, a few days can seem like ages to a Ne… so I combat that by sticking to it, and working on my projects each day.

Something I had to do over Christmas, I had no real interest in; I had gotten roped into a project by my mom for someone else, and I coped with my lack of interest by seeing how fast I could throw it together and get it done. Maybe it wasn’t spectacular, but it was FINISHED.

You wanting to finish things is your tert-Te shouting at you. Here’s my advice:

Look at all your unfinished projects, pick the ONE that you still have the most interest in, and chuck the rest in the proverbial or literal garbage bin. This is almost 2018. Time to start with a brand new clean slate. Then dedicate one hour every three days to that one project. It’s much easier to see progress with one project, than to spend your time running around between 23 projects. Do not punish yourself, reward yourself. (Punishment: I cannot watch Stranger Things until I work on this, which makes your task ‘negative’ in your mind. Reward: I am really excited to work on this, because it means I get to do [insert something exciting about your project here] and then I am going to reward myself with Stranger Things!) And, I know this will be hard, but… start writing down other ideas that don’t go with your project, and sticking them in a mason jar. Why? Because it will get them out of your head, so you can focus.

Here’s the thing: you train your brain’s cognitive processes. If you follow the same mental patterns, you create a brain rut. But if you continually bring your thoughts under control / focus them, you create in yourself a stronger ability to do that next time… and over time, it becomes natural to you. I have spent twenty-odd years training my brain to work on one project at a time, to channeling all my Ne in specific directions at once, and now it’s fairly easy for me – to the extent that I find it hard to switch mental tactics sometimes; but I always, ALWAYS plan my day the night before, so I am mentally prepared.

For example, the other morning I had off from work, so the night before I said: okay, gonna edit two chapters, write these six profiles for the queue, and write one movie review. Did the profiles first, then the movie review, then started feeling ‘meh’ about the chapters, but I told myself: no, you said you were going to do this, you’re on the home stretch, literally 2 hours away from being DONE with major edits for this book, before 2018! This was your goal! As a reward, tomorrow you can marathon X show on Netflix and literally do nothing.

So I did. I sat there and edited, and found… I quite like my own story. ;)

I have no idea if any of that can help you; I hope so. I know that a lot of NFPs find their inability to finish things frustrating. I think the secret lies in being selective about what you choose to do, in agreeing with yourself to a preset short amount of time to finish it in, and in rewarding yourself for finishing. :)

My track record is much poorer with things I don’t care about, or that I’m ‘required’ to do for my job; if my Fi-heart isn’t in it, I find it much harder to commit and self-discipline to finish it. :P

- ENFP Mod

#question #enfp #mbti

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dailyaudiobible · 6 years

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06/09/2018 DAB Transcript

1 Kings 5:1-6:38, Acts 7:1-29, Psalms 127:1-5, Proverbs 16:28-30

Today is the 9th day of June. Welcome to the Daily Audio Bible. I am Brian. It is a pleasure and an honor to be here with you today as we get ready to close the books on another week. And we've been reading from the Amplified Bible this week, which is what we will continue to do today. We are following the story of King Solomon as we go through the Old Testament portion of 1 Kings. And we have just seen a blip on the radar of this man named Stephen, who we're going to get to know a little bit in the book of Acts. But first, 1 Kings chapter 5 and chapter 6 today.

Commentary:

Okay. So, we have heard of the temple of God in Jerusalem probably for a very, very long time. Today in our reading from 1 Kings, that temple is first built. Prior to this, there was no temple. There was only a tabernacle, more of a tent temple if you will. And this is how God had chosen to be among His people. If we'll remember all of this from the time of Moses, the temple was in the center of the camp and all of the different tribes had spread out from there. God was literally dwelling with his people in the middle of their society. And it was portable and it was movable so that the people would follow wherever God led. Now a temple has been erected that is a permanent place in Jerusalem. And as we will see, this brings an incredible amount of stability to the people.

Now when we get to the book of Acts, Stephen is being questioned and he has begun to tell the story of the Hebrew people. This is in his defense because he's basically being accused of perverting that story. So, he's just simply telling the story to the council so that he can show that he knows how the story goes and that he actually is a Hebrew person. And, so, right up until the time that he gets to Jesus we will be reviewing the territory that we have covered this year so far in the Bible, in the Old Testament. But one of the things that Stephen is accused of is Jesus’ declaration about tearing down the temple and then building it back in three days. Now that temple, the temple in Stephen’s time, the temple in Jesus’ time, is a different temple than the one Solomon built today. The one Solomon built today is what would be referred to now as the first temple. So, the first temple period or era. Eventually, Solomon's temple gets destroyed. And we'll get to that story soon enough. And then it is rebuilt over time and then it is really rebuilt in the time of Herod the Great, which would fall in time just a bit before Jesus’ birth. So, we'll get to all that, but let's just continue to listen to Stephen tell the story that we've gone through as that story reaches its culmination. And then we'll continue to watch Solomon. Now there's a temple in Jerusalem and there's gonna be a great celebration and we'll continue with his reign.

Prayer:

Father, we thank You for another week in Your Word. We thank You for all the things that You've spoken to us. Sometimes You speak deep into our hearts and reveal things that we must change and repent of. Sometimes the story gets carried forward and we see how things are linked together. Always You are inviting us to take the next step forward in relationship with You, and that is what we continually choose to do and Your Word guides our steps. So, come Holy Spirit, we pray. Plant the words of the Scriptures in our lives and change us through them, we ask in Jesus’ name. Amen.

Announcements:

dailyaudiobible.com is the website, it's home base, it’s where you find out what’s going on around here.

Daily Audio Bible Shop is there. The Daily Audio Bible Prayer Wall is there. So, be sure to check it out.

And one of the things that we're talking about right now is the forthcoming Daily Audio Bible Family Reunion, a first of its kind. We do a lot of travel. I'm somewhere else besides here a lot of the time. And we're inviting you to come here to the rolling hills of Tennessee, where we can enjoy a family reunion. Like I said, first of its kind and it's gonna be great. We’re looking forward to it. It's over Labor Day weekend, which is September 1 and 2. And you can get all the details at dailyaudiobible.com. Just scroll down to the Initiatives section, look for Family Reunion. Or you can click the navigation at the top of the website. Click the Initiatives button there and you'll find it. Hope you can come. It's gonna be great. It's filling up. We're gonna have a blast. I think this is gonna be one of the funest things maybe we've done. And, so, I'm looking forward to it. So, check it out. dailaudiobible.com in the Initiatives section.

If you want to partner with the Daily Audio Bible in keeping this global campfire burning, this community that we share with each other every day as we take a step forward in the Scriptures. If that has been meaningful to you, then thank you for your partnership. There is a link. It's on the homepage of dailyaudiobible.com. If you're using the Daily Audio Bible app, you can press the give button in the upper right-hand corner or, if you prefer, the mailing address is P.O. Box 1996, Spring Hill, Tennessee, 37174.

And, as always if you have a prayer request or comment, 877-942-4253 is the number to dial.

And that's it for today. I'm Brian I love you and I'll be waiting for next month, which is tomorrow.

Community Prayer and Praise:

Hi family. I’m calling…I need your help. I have been listening to the DAB for almost since the beginning. And recently I’ve been hearing a lot of prayers with women calling in about their husbands, which has given me a little bit more courage to call in. I used to call in on a regular basis but I kind of stopped but I do pray for everybody. I’m in trouble with my marriage. My husband has recently retired and he did allow me to retire. He was a doctor. So, we can afford for me to retire. I had a laborious job that’s really…I was just exhausted all of the time. So, he did allow me to retire. And I’m only 61. So, I’m very grateful and thankful for that. But being a doctor, he is very controlling, and he has three nurses that they just did everything that he wanted them to do. And now it’s turned out to be me. And I apologize if I hang up quickly because he might commend. But I’ve started drinking a lot. Nobody knows about it, but I am…I am so sad. I cry every day. I just do what he says. I can’t talk back to him. I can’t stand up. My sister asked me why I can’t stand up on my own two feet. But he always manages to turn everything around back to me. I need your help. I need your prayers. Please, I love you. Please help me. I don’t want to do. I pray. I pray every day. I just need your help family. I love you. I love you so much. Thank you, Brian, thank you Jill for all you do.

Hello DAB family. Hello Brian and family. I guess you can call me __ would be my name. I’ve been listening to DAB for, it’s going on at least 5 to 6 years or so, right? But this is my first time calling. I would just like prayer. I’m a single mother but I don’t feel a lot of joy in that. I just feel like everything that I enjoyed I can no longer enjoy. I mean, even the work that I used to do, traveling, and training, and technical work, I can’t do that anymore. So, my life completely started over. __ over the years. And my prayer is __. So, my prayer request for the community is family. I’m not finding that in my church, even though __ several years __ five years committed to the same church. It just seems like, sermons is…is pretty much not a requirement __. I want to life. I want to life. I want something different. I’m not happy with my job. __ the basis of my life __ and managing the house. And that’s where I am. And that’s what I want prayer for. __ thank you all. Have a good week.

Hello friends. Hey, this is Annette Allison. I love you guys. Hey, would you guys pray for my friend David at work? Tell you what. This guy, he handed it to me. You know what I’m saying? So, I get this new guy in my shop and he’s kind of overweight and kind of old and kind of sweaty and kind of reminds me of the dog named Lucky, missing a few teeth. All he did was that there and sweat. And it’s like, he was quiet, and he never talked to anybody. And I was like, what’s up with this guy? I was kinda busy with my project and I didn’t get the chance to know him. And, well, I’ve changed locations and I got sat next to David and pretty soon I got to know him and I got to figure out what an amazingly intelligent, smart, funny, he is hilarious, and he is so smart, and I have learned so much from him, including how not to judge a book by its cover. Awe….I failed. I had to ask forgiveness. I kid you not…in that, I asked for God to show me people as He sees them not as we see them. Awe…so…I did learn a lesson out of this. But my friend David is very sick. He’s in the hospital. He’s in ICU. He’s been fighting pulmonary obstructions and I think that maybe he has one in his lung. But he came to work and he fell out from low blood pressure. And would you guys please pray for him? And we are all really worried because, you know, because we kind of fell in love with them, you know? And, you know, I just don’t want to see him go out like this. So, would you all please pray for my friend David? And…

Hi family. This is Jeanette from Charlotte. This is my first time calling in and like so many of you, I have been listening and pray along with you all for quite a while now. I want to ask for prayer for my husband Vince. He has Parkinson’s disease and his symptoms have progressed to the point that he’s going to have brain surgery called the brain simulation. This surgery happens in three stages, the first of which will be on June the 5th, when they place 4 screws called fiducial’s under his scalp to serve as markers. The second phase happens on June 13th. This is the most invasive part of the process, where they drill holes in his skull and place electrodes into his brain. The last stage happens on June 25th when they place of battery pack on his chest, kind of similar to what they do for a pacemaker. On July 10th they will actually turn it on for the first time and we’ll find out how it works for him. Vince has been struggling so much. We have been asking God to heal him since he was diagnosed in 2008. We realize that God uses everything in our lives to draw us closer to Him. So, would you please pray that, number one, we will draw still closer to God through this process and that God will accomplish what He desires in our lives? Number two, would you please pray for an extraordinarily successful outcome, so that Vince can regain a good quality of life and that he would be able to do things again? We really want God to be glorified above all else. Vince and I love and appreciate you, family. Thanks for your prayers.

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smile-smile-ichthys · 7 years

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Hosts of Japan - Chapter 7

Chapter 1 Chapter 2 Chapter 3 Chapter 4 Chapter 5 Chapter 6

I know long time with no updates, but I’ve been sick and working a lot of 12 hours shifts over the christmas period, so had no time. I’m back though, I have two weeks off now to focus on my writing for Uni and this :)

Tagging the girls @whatdoyouexpectthistime @hifftn and @smutmylifeup also @destinywanted don’t worry darlin you’re in the next chapter :)

Didn’t take us long to find the Prince and his butlers, almost as soon as we entered the hotel, the staff ushered us to the small conference room they had used previously. When we reached the doors leading in to where the Prince was sat, I had to stop to take a minute for a breather. My anxieties were sky high, and I was nervous I was gonna loss my confidence in my case. I knew I had done nothing wrong, it was all on the prince and their behaviour; however, my brain doubted itself. Big time.

That’s when I felt Miho and jazz squeeze my hand, and Mieke place her hands on my shoulder.

“We’re here, remember?” Jazz said “even if you doubt yourself, we certainly don’t, if you can’t speak we’ll speak for you” she smiled and I nodded after one last deep breath.

Miho opened the door and entered first, me following with Jazz and Mieke by my side. I wasn’t expecting anything large to happen, but I was surprised when the prince stood instantly, both butlers stiffening their positions. For once, it wasn’t the butlers who approached me, it was the prince himself. And was that genuine regret in his eyes? Miho sized him up, stopping him from reaching me.

“I wish to speak to her, after all it is her I’ve done wrong” he explained. Miho glanced back at me and I nodded so she moved aside “Please, take a seat, I’d like to explain and apologise properly”

I kept my face stern as I agreed to sit opposite him, my girls’ right beside me.

“Thank you” Keith said, finally sitting too “but, I’m not here to thank you, I’m here to apologise, deeply, first of all I’d like to explain, my relationships with the other princes is a…difficult one to fully describe, they know I do not understand some things as we are raised in different countries with different customs, they like to tease me on this, hence why they believed it was funny to play this ‘prank’” he began, it did sound genuine to say the least, but I kept my guard up just like Mieke had taught me “I know this doesn’t excuse the way I behaved, however, I would like you to forgive Aleck and Luke before myself, they were only doing as they were told, if they speak out of turn, my family have been harsh on punishments, they were only doing their job”

My eyes travelled up to Aleck who looked the most ashamed and sleep deprived of them all. Knowing he truly wished for forgiveness, I gave him a small smile. Luke…sure he was also ashamed, he still had a stern expression. Instead of smiling at him, I turned back to Keith.

“Now, I deeply apologise for my behaviour, even though the princes played a prank, I should not have forced myself onto you like that, I should not have assumed and just….gone ahead with my urges, I was so very very wrong” he stood and bowed to me “I will understand if you do not accept this apology and wish to continue down a path of lawyers, but I must ask you not to, instead, may we continue the agreement? You show me Tokyo on my days off, and I assure you, myself and my country will give you an amazing review and recommendation that will boost your company’s reputation greatly”

“If we do continue the contract, do you assure us that there will be no sexual advances? From any of you?” Miho asked.

“There will be none, this will be strictly professional” Keith assured us.

“What about the other princes?” Mieke asked.

“They would also like to apologise, but they will be keeping their distance as you wish it” he explained.

I didn’t need to talk, I was happy with the apology and Aleck had even written up a new contract with explicit details on what would happen in the next couple of weeks. Jazz read it over, and Miho and Mieke before I read it and happily signed. Luke would accompany us at all times, just in case, and he was given permission to speak up if he wished to, something I had personally asked to be added in.

When we finally left and headed out to go grab some food, I could help but feel eyes on me. I glanced round the room, however, none of the guests were even looking in our direction. Maybe it was just me being paranoid, even if I had a sinking feeling, we still went on our way out of the hotel, me pushing the feeling aside.

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Jazz had been working hard and closely with Takao after that, she always made sure she had a back-up, just in case. It was the first day of H taking the prince out into Tokyo and she was a little nervous about how it was going to go. So, it reassured her that Takao was fully on board with keeping a note of everything ready to sue if H was in danger of any kind again.

“Jazz, calm down, you know I’m sure H will be just fine” Takao said over the phone.

“Ugh, I know I know, can’t help it” Jazz said, rubbing her eyes.

“How about I get Kuni to bring back some take out for you two tonight? Your favourite? It’ll distract you I’m sure” he suggested.

“That would be nice, thank you, I just want to get that text from her tonight to say it went alright” Jazz sighed again.

“Ok, I’m telling Kuni now, talk to you tomorrow” Takao said, clearly grinning as he spoke.

Jazz carefully put the phone down and leaned back in her chair.

“And I thought I could get worked up easily” Miho laughed.

“Sorry, can’t help but be on edge a little”

“Same, but H can handle herself” Miho smiled, placing a cup of coffee in front of Jazz.

“I know, but I know you’re worried too, she didn’t have to forgive him so quickly” Jazz growled.

“It kind of annoyed me too, it was a traumatic thing he did, but, he did seem genuine, even if we wouldn’t forgive him, H did and we supported her in that” Miho said, leaning against Jazz’s chair, glancing at her computer screen “we just need to…hey who’s that from?” she asked, pointing to a particular email.

“Huh?” Jazz wondered, moving to open it “I literally have no idea, isn’t this the computer with the email with all the contacts in?”

“Yeah, this is the private email…” Miho said, pulling a separate chair up next to Jazz.

The girls glanced over the email, not really making sense of any of it. It was an incredibly vague email, talking about stuff to do with the company, and yet it not making any sense.

“Should we just delete? I mean, it could just be spam” Jazz suggested.

“Hmm, nah don’t delete, keep for now, for the address, in case we get another, we can keep track of them then” Miho said, Jazz agreeing and moving it into a different folder for now.

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“What do you mean I eat it?” the prince grimaced at the small, gooey ball in his hand.

“It’s mochi, it’s sweet and tastes amazing” I said, trying to get him to try some of the local cuisine, something that was a greater challenge than I expected.

“No thanks, think I’ll pass” and he shoved the mochi to Luke.

I sighed again. This had been a regular occurrence throughout the day. I had taken him to the local market place as a sort of warm up to more intense things in Tokyo, however, everything I offered to him, from Sushi to street food, he would not eat. He would look, and maybe pick it up, but never taste it. If it wasn’t made by his special palace kitchens, then chances are he wouldn’t go near it. Not good enough.

“Of course you’ll pass” I said full of sass.

“What is next on this little adventure to the plebs market?” he asked.

“Alright, first of all, don’t go calling the locals plebs, that can be taken very offensively and second, you agreed to continue the contract, this isn’t a little adventure, this is you trying to understand the culture of this country, you know, to better your own” I argued.

“Ok, calm down, I am trying” he said.

He wasn’t really. I honestly didn’t know how his butlers put up with him so much. He was more than high maintenance, it’s no wonder he didn’t realise what a host was. I didn’t blame him for not knowing, hardly, if you don’t know something you don’t know. But he wasn’t even trying to understand these things. Not even opening up to me slightly. He kept his princely attitude constantly. I had attempted to make jokes with him, to have a laugh, but nothing, he waved his hand to off the joke and kept asking what next, as if it was something on a list. It had only been one day and I was already exhausted. Physically, my feet hurt from all the slow walking and hanging around. Mentally? I was ready to punch the bastard.

I found the prince a little private bench in a nearby park and went to go get some ice cream. I knew Liberty had to have had ice cream at least, safe bet for now. However, Luke came with me this time.

“You holding up ok?” he asked, probably the first nice thing he had asked me.

“Kinda? Does having not punching him yet count as holding up?” I asked in return.

“A little” was that a smile? A genuine one? “I know we moved past it yesterday, but, I would like to apologise myself for not stepping in, as so, please, let me buy these”

“Oh, wow, an ice cream, yeah makes me forgive everything” I said sarcastically.

“I know it doesn’t, but it’s a start? Prince Keith can be a lot to take, but he is a good person, you just…have to loosen him up” Luke advised me.

“How on earth am I meant to loosen up a highly strung king wannabe?” I asked.

“Well” Luke began, giving me my ice cream “he loves karaoke”

#hosts of japan #keith alford #bmp #bmpp #be my princess #butler luke #fanfic

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writingwithadinosaur · 7 years

Text

“Fireproof” - Epilogue Pt. 1

( Part 1 / Part 2 / Part 3 / Part 4 / Part 5 / Part 6 )

My Masterlist - Here

My Tag List - Here

Eggsy Unwin x Reader

Word Count: 1,548

Key: Y/N = Your Name, Y/L/N = Your Last Name, H/C = Your Hair Color, E/C = Your Eye Color

Warnings: Feels(?). If I missed anything, please let me know

Summary: After a genetic mutation showed itself about 5 years ago, you became a Kingsman and worked alongside some of the best agents: Your father, Merlin, Roxy, and Eggsy. When you are assigned a mission with Eggsy, things flare up.

Author’s Note: I was writing out the epilogue earlier and realized that with where I wanted it to go and how long I tend to write, it was either going to be a very long epilogue, or I make it into 2 parts. A 2 part epilogue? Is that even a thing? IT IS NOW!

Forever thankful for @the-witching-hours12-3 for beta reading and being a friend! <3

If you would like to be tagged in any of my future pieces, check out my tag list above and let me know! And as always, feedback is greatly appreciated!

- DreaSaurusREX

It had been 8 months at Xavier’s School for Gifted Youngsters. While you didn’t really fit the “youngsters” part of the title, Charles had made an exception for you. He’d seen how badly you wanted, and needed his help; you had so much potential. Charles made it a personal goal of his to get you to an X-Men level of control. This being said, he was not forcing you to be a part of the team. He knew very well that it was your choice if you wanted to or not.

The past 8 months had been a mixture of some of the best things to happen in your life and the saddest moments so far. As much as you appreciated how much Charles had taught and trained you, you couldn’t help but be homesick. You missed your father, Roxy, and Eggsy like hell.

Visitation wasn’t easy at the school. Charles had to be aware of it and then there were all these security protocols that had to be taken care of. It was a hassle, but that didn’t mean it was impossible. Your father visited after your first three months, and then Eggsy and Roxy visited a month or two after that. You were able to go home for holiday, but that was only a two-week long break. Then it was right back into your world revolving around your mutation.

Even though it was a struggle to visit your family, you had strong communication across the pond. You were sure to update your father as much as you could, and video called him at least once a week to actually see him. The same went for Roxy. Eggsy was a different story. The two of you video called almost every night, unless he was on a mission or you were training late. But you never lost your love for each other.

It was one of those nights where you were extremely homesick and wanted nothing more than to either be back in London, or have a bit of London with you. You were sitting on your bed with your laptop. While taking a short break from reviewing your notes from Hank’s class on genetics, you couldn’t help but look at some pictures you’d taken with Eggsy during your holiday break.

Even though you were here for training, you enrolled in classes as well. Not as many as some of the other students, but enough to have a decent workload on top of your work with Charles. Every now and then, you needed to take a break. Those breaks were spent relaxing or looking at pictures and videos that you had saved on your computer.

You were in the middle of watching a video that Roxy had gotten of you and Eggsy walking around the park in the snow. The video ended with you and Eggsy laughing as snow fell off of a tree branch that was above the two of you. You paused the video, looking at how happy and carefree you and Eggsy were. After a minute or so of staring off into space and thinking, you were jolted back into reality by your computer jingling followed by a pop-up message:

“Eggsy Calling”

It was 5PM in your time zone, so it was close to 10 o'clock at night for him in London. You gladly answered while wiping a rogue tear away from your face.

“Hey there, babe!”

“Hey, luv! How’s the studyin’ goin’?”

“Very slow. This genetics stuff is due in a couple of days, but I thought it would distract me from thinking too much about tomorrow.” You slid your hands over your face and tried to take a deep breath.

Charles wanted you to go through a set of trials to really test how far you’d come. He wouldn’t tell you anything about what the test consisted of, which only added to your anxiety. Knowing him, it would not only be physically challenging, but also mentally strenuous; probably a mixture of both at one time.

“Hey, look at me.” You did so. “You are going to be fine. I know I haven’t been there to really see how much you’ve grown, but I already knew you were a fuckin’ badass. So I know damn well that you are not gonna let this all go tits up without a fight.”

You just laughed and nodded. It was still a wonder how he knew exactly what to say to make you feel even a bit better. You thanked him but of course he shoved it off.

“You never have to thank me for that kind of thing, (Y/N). You know that.” He winked and everything seemed normal until you saw his face slowly get more and more serious.

“Something’s not right. What’s wrong, Eggsy?”

“I uh…. I gotta go on a mission in the mornin’. Not just me, but Merlin and Rox as well.” He was watching you intently, trying to make sure you don’t get too upset.

“Oh…”

“So I won’t be able to call you before your trials. But I should be able to talk to you tomorrow night.” You would be lying if you said you weren’t a bit sad about that, but you knew what being a Kingsman entailed, for everyone. So you really couldn’t complain.

“That’s fine. You got a job to do.”

“You sure you’re alright, luv?” You blinked back some tears that were beginning to sting at our eyes and nodded while taking a breath.

“Yeah, I’ll be fine. Just please update me when you can. You know how worried I get when you go on missions, now add the fact that it's you, my best friend, and my father.”

“I know. I promise to tell you as much as I can.”

There was a buzz on his side of the line and he turned to put on his glasses and listen to whoever was giving him orders (most likely your father.) You knew what was going to happen next. He said some things quietly before taking them off and turning back to you.

“I’m sorry, babe, but I gotta go. Merlin wants us all to talk more before leaving in the morning.”

“It’s okay. I gotta finish this chapter and then go help with dinner. Rogue and I are making dinner for the team, even though I’m not technically a part of X-Men.”

“Alright. Well, I will text you in the morning when we head out. I love you.”

“I love you too. Now go meet with them and then get some sleep, mister!” You said jokingly, smiles growing on both of your faces.

“Will do, luv.”

Eggsy blew a kiss to the camera and then hung up. Leaving you alone again. Well, for a few seconds that is. You were running your hands against your face and through your hair, trying to fight off tears. Then you focused some energy on rolling a flame between your fingers, helping you calm down a bit more. A series of light knocks on your door

“Come in,” you breathed out, quickly wiping your face. Charles rolled in and could immediately tell that you were struggling; he knew you played with small flames like this when you needed to calm down. You didn’t let him into your head unless it was absolutely necessary, so he couldn’t tell what exactly was going on, he just knew something was wrong.

“Rogue started working in the kitchen and asked me to fetch you. Are you alright, (Y/N)?”

“Just homesick and thinking too much about tomorrow. I thought I would be able to talk to everyone back home before the trials, but Eggsy just told me that they have to go on a mission. According to him, I should be able to talk to him afterwards though.”

Charles wheeled closer and put a hand on your arm, causing you to stop moving the small flame around, focusing more on him.

“I promise you that tomorrow will be fine. You are much better than you think. You’re actually very close to the standards I hold for the team. Tomorrow will confirm that, not only to the others, but for you as well. Maybe then they will see why I proposed the idea of you becoming an X-Man.”

You couldn’t help but smile a bit at that. Hearing a compliment like that from someone who really knows the life of a mutant hit you harder than normal. But then you thought about being a part of this team. There was no way you could choose this over your family in Kingsman. But you were becoming a part of this family as well.

“Thank you, Charles. I just don’t know if I could. If there was any way to think of being a part of both, I would heavily consider. But my blood and heart are back in England.” You felt another tear fall down your cheek, this time from more positive feelings. You quickly wiped it with the back of your sleeve and took a breath in.

“That is perfectly understandable. It was just a thought.” He took a pause, considering something before smiling and changing topics. “Now, no more tears. We better not keep Rogue waiting more than she has been.”

Tags - @the-witching-hours12-3 @theeactress @undersoilxnddirt @juggernaut-jones @eggsyunwinftw @boundtomyfate @grippleback-galaxy @sarahp879 @breakfastatswarovski @fandomsandwriting @thomasstanleyhoelland @thebookisbtr @melconnor2007 @ashenfallsof @white-chocolate-mocha-fan

#kingsman fandom #kingsman fanfiction #kingsman fic #kingsman imagine #kingsman fanficiton #Fireproof #eggsy x reader #eggsy unwin x reader #eggsy imagine #eggsy unwin imagine #eggsy unwin fanfiction #DreaREX #dreasaurusrex #writingwithadinosaur #WritingWithADino

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momscookingthebooks · 7 years

Photo

From New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby comes a sexy, new standalone contemporary romance in her Fusion Series, THE BEAUTY OF US, releasing August 22, 2017! Check out the chapter below and get to know Trevor and Riley!

About THE BEAUTY OF US:

New York Times bestselling author Kristen Proby delivers another sizzling novel in her delectable and sexy Fusion series.

Riley Gibson is over the moon at the prospect of having her restaurant, Seduction, on the Best Bites TV network. This could be the big break she’s been waiting for. But the idea of having an in-house show on a regular basis is a whole other matter. Their lives would be turned upside down, and convincing Mia, her best friend and head chef of Seduction, that having cameras in her kitchen every day is a good idea is daunting. Still, Riley knows it’s an opportunity she can’t afford to pass on. And when she meets Trevor Cooper, the show’s executive producer, she’s stunned by their intense chemistry.

Trevor’s sole intention is to persuade Riley to allow Best Bites TV to do a show on her restaurant. But when he walks into Riley’s office, he stops dead in his tracks. The professional, aloof woman on the phone is incredibly beautiful and funny. But can he convince her that he’s interested in Riley for himself? Or is he using the undeniable pull between them to persuade her to agree to his offer?

Purchase Links:

Amazon: http://amzn.to/2qveLzY

Barnes and Noble: http://bit.ly/2rhlTkh

iBooks: http://apple.co/2pVzLNa

Kobo: http://bit.ly/2rtiIlK

Add to Goodreads: https://www.goodreads.com/book/show/33230905-the-beauty-of-us

And Don’t Miss the First Three Novels in the Fusion Series:

Listen to Me: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062434777/listen-to-me

Close to You: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062434784/close-to-you

Blush for Me: https://www.harpercollins.com/9780062434814/blush-for-me

Don’t miss the first chapter of THE BEAUTY OF US! You can read it here!

https://www.rtbookreviews.com/blog/137476/exclusive-first-chapter-kristen-probys-beauty-us

About Kristen Proby:

New York Times and USA Today Bestselling author Kristen Proby is the author of the bestselling With Me In Seattle and Love Under the Big Sky series. She has a passion for a good love story and strong, humorous characters with a strong sense of loyalty and family. Her men are the alpha type; fiercely protective and a bit bossy, and her ladies are fun, strong, and not afraid to stand up for themselves.

Kristen lives in Montana, where she enjoys coffee, chocolate and sunshine. And naps.

Author Links:

Website:http://www.booksbykristenproby.com/

Facebook: https://www.facebook.com/BooksByKristenProby/

Twitter: https://twitter.com/Handbagjunkie

Newsletter sign-up: http://www.booksbykristenproby.com/

Goodreads Author Page: https://www.goodreads.com/author/show/6550037.Kristen_Proby t Table

Chapter 2

~Trevor~

I didn’t sleep worth shit last night. I waited for a response to my e-mail from Riley for a while; I’m not exactly sure why. I just don’t like the thought of her being embarrassed.

Because she has no reason to be. She didn’t know who I was, and it was closing time. She was venting to her friends.

It’s really no big deal.

But I could see the mortification in her big blue eyes when she realized who I was, and that doesn’t sit well with me.

When no response came, and for all I know she hasn’t even read the e-mail yet, I sat down for a game on the PS4. I don’t travel anywhere without it. Some people read to unwind. Some go to the gym, and there are times I do the same. But to truly relax, I enjoy gaming. I have since I was a kid.

So I settled in the apartment the network has rented for me this month and played online with my friends, talking about our days and shooting the enemy.

We played well past midnight, and I usually would have gone right to bed afterward, but my mind was still turning, making falling asleep impossible. The restaurant is better than I imagined through my research on their website and customer reviews. It’s visually stunning, the food is fantastic, and they’ve hit the mark on the sexy factor.

But added to that, the five women who own the place are all beautiful, smart, and will make for great TV. Viewers will eat this show up, pun intended.

I lean over the sink and wash my face, not bothering to shave today, and as I dry off, I reach for my phone.

I have several new e-mails.

The most recent is from Riley Gibson.

Trevor,

Thank you for your kind email. I apologize again for the conversation last night. I would like to promise that we don’t always talk like that at work, but that would be a lie. At least we keep it to closing time over a glass of wine.

Enjoy Portland,

Riley

I grin and sling the towel over my bare shoulders. Riley isn’t what I had pictured in my head before I got here. I knew that she was pretty because their photos are on their website, but she’s much prettier in person.

And animated.

Working with her will be fun.

And a test to my libido. Because Riley is fucking sexy. I’ve never mixed business and sex before, and I don’t plan to start now, but keeping my hands off her will be a test of wills.

And that too should be fun.

After my run this morning, I stopped by a bagel place to eat and read a newspaper, came back to the apartment for a shower, and I think I’ll go to Seduction for lunch. I hadn’t planned to go back there until my meeting with Riley tomorrow, but I also haven’t had lunch there yet.

I dress quickly in jeans and a red T-shirt and walk the six or so blocks to the restaurant.

They’ve just opened, so they’re not busy yet. The atmosphere is calm, the lighting a bit brighter than last night, making it a fun spot to meet with colleagues or friends for lunch.

I’m seated on the far side of the restaurant, where it meets the bar, and I can see Riley and the other women sitting around a high table, talking.

Loud enough for me to hear.

“So, he’ll be here tomorrow. Filming doesn’t start for another week, unless the timetable has been moved up,” Riley says, studying her iPad and checking things off a list. “It would be great if we could watch our language.”

“Right,” Mia says, rolling her eyes. “Because that’s gonna happen.”

“Just watch the F-bombs then,” Riley says with a grin. “And I’ll do my best not to vent to him about my horrible dating experiences. Not that I’ll be having any more of those.”

“I wish I’d been here for that,” Addie says with a smile. “It’s hilarious.”

“No, it’s not,” Riley says, but smiles and covers her lips with her fingers. “Okay, it’s a little funny. I’ll be working from home today.”

“Why?” The blonde speaking, I presume Cami, asks.

“Because I have a roofer coming today,” Riley says. “But if you need me, just call. I can come back after he leaves.”

“Go.” Mia waves her off. “We’ve got this.”

The girls all stand, about to go their own ways to get their day started. They’re clearly good friends, which will come across well on film.

Riley walks out of the bar and glances up, spotting me.

“Hi.” I offer her a smile and motion for her to join me. She sits, sets her iPad aside, and squares her shoulders.

I love a woman with grit.

“Why are you here?” she asks.

“I’m having lunch,” I reply, and gesture to the salad sitting in front of me. “It’s delicious. Adding the brussels sprouts is smart.”

“I’ll pass that along to Mia,” she says, and then laughs. “I guess you heard the part where I asked the girls to not swear.”

“I did,” I reply, and patiently butter a piece of warm bread. “Don’t worry about that stuff. They’re adults.”

“With potty mouths,” she says.

“And we can bleep stuff out, or ask them to rephrase. You’ve already got the gig, Riley. I wouldn’t be here otherwise. This isn’t an audition.”

“I know.” She sighs and reaches over to take a piece of my bread, surprising and delighting me. “I just want things to go smoothly.”

“Perhaps you should order lunch too.”

“I don’t have time,” she says, and then her blue eyes widen as she realizes what she just did. “I’m so sorry. I eat when I’m stressed out, and I didn’t—”

“No.” I hold my hand up to stop her. “It’s fine. I like that you’re relaxed with me. I think you need to relax more often.”

“What are you, my life coach now?”

“If you like. Did you cancel those dating sites like I suggested?”

She bites her lip and looks to the side, then nods. “I did.”

“Good.” I take a bite of salad and nod. “Are you sure you don’t want some food?”

“I rarely have time to eat,” Riley says, and checks the time on her phone. “In fact, I should go. I have to meet the roofer at my house.”

“What’s wrong with your roof?”

“It’s old,” she says with a shrug. “That’s what happens when you buy an old house. I’m fixing it up a little at a time.”

I nod, and find that I don’t want her to go quite yet. I want to talk more, to learn more about her.

“Why don’t you come to my apartment tonight and I’ll cook you dinner?”

She pauses and stares at me for a moment. “Why?”

I laugh and set my fork down. “Because I asked you to. We’re going to be working closely over the next few weeks, we might as well get to know each other a little better. Also, we can discuss my new duties as your life coach.”

“Well.” Her lips twitch as she thinks it over for a moment, a myriad of emotions moving across her beautiful face, and finally she says, “Okay. Do you mind texting me the address and the time?”

“Not at all,” I reply, and immediately pass her my phone. “Plug in your number and I’ll text you this afternoon.”

She complies, passes it back, and smiles. “Okay, see you later.”

And with that, she’s off. Her ass swaying enticingly in her tight skirt, calves flexing from the height of her heels, and the food I’m currently chewing immediately tastes like cardboard.

Jesus.

And I just voluntarily offered to spend time with her. Alone.

I’m a fucking glutton for punishment.

[no ornament]

“I’m starving,” Riley immediately says as I open the door. She’s in jeans and a well-loved University of Oregon sweatshirt, her hair is pulled up in a ponytail, and she looks like she could be a co-ed herself. “I forgot to eat today.”

“Does that happen every day?” I ask as I gesture for her to come inside and close the door behind her.

“Most days,” she admits. “Is this one of those bad choices that you’re gonna coach me through?”

“Yes,” I reply, and lead her into the kitchen. “You have to eat.”

“I know, I just get focused on other things, and the next thing I know, the day is gone and I’m starving.” She passes me two bottles of wine. “I didn’t know what we were having, so I brought red and white.”

“Thanks.” I grin and set them both on the counter. “I made salmon and asparagus with baby red potatoes. What goes best with that?”

Her eyes light up. “The white. Holy shit, are you a chef yourself?”

“I went to culinary school,” I reply, and squeeze some lemon on the salmon before plating it. “But I discovered I was better at a desk job.”

“That’s unusual,” she says, her head tilted to the side as she listens. “Most people fight to get out of a desk job.”

“Not me. I have a ton of respect for Mia, because being a chef isn’t easy, and pleasing people sucks.”

“True.” Riley nods. “She doesn’t get many plates sent back to her, but there are a few. Can I pour you a glass?”

“No thanks,” I reply, and reach in the fridge for a bottle of water. “I don’t drink alcohol.”

“Oh.” She frowns. “I’m sorry. I can drink water too.”

“It’s fine,” I reply, and pat her shoulder. “I don’t mind if you drink. I just don’t.”

“But last night, you were drinking Jack and Coke.”

“Nope, just Coke.”

She sits at the table, still frowning. “I’m sorry.”

“There’s nothing to be sorry for.” I set our plates down. “I’ve been sober for ten years. I’m not the kind of alcoholic who can’t be around others having a drink. It was never that bad for me. I’m just a better person if I don’t drink.”

“Good for you for knowing that,” she says, holding her glass out to clink against my water. “This looks delicious.”

“You sound surprised.”

“I expected pizza or Chinese takeout,” she says. “Honestly, that’s probably what you would have gotten from me. I’m also surprised that you’re not staying in a hotel.”

“I’m here long enough that the network sprung for the apartment. They usually do when I’m somewhere longer than a week or so.”

“You must travel a lot for this job,” she says, eating her food like a starving child. I don’t know if she even tastes it, she’s eating so fast.

“I travel often,” I reply, and grin when she takes the last bite. “Are you going to lick the plate?”

“Maybe,” she says with a grin. “I’m not even embarrassed that I ate that so fast. It was delicious.”

“I’m glad you liked it. There’s more.”

“No, I’m good,” she says, and reaches in her bag, pulling out a pad of paper and a pen. “You can eat while I interview you.”

“For what?”

“For the position of life coach,” she says with a sassy grin. I want to kiss that grin right off her face, but instead I take a bite of potato and gesture for her to begin.

“Okay, first question: What qualifications do you have that make you a good fit for this position?”

“Well, I have a few years on you, so I would say wisdom with age.”

She tilts her head to the side, the way she does when she’s turning something over in her head. “You can’t be that much older than me.”

“I’m thirty-seven.”

“Seven years,” she says, rolling her eyes.

“A lot can happen in seven years,” I reply, and sip my water.

“Okay, I’ll give you that.” She checks something off on her paper.

“Did you really write down questions?”

“Of course. I’m the queen of lists and the roofer was at my house forever.” She bites her lip as she looks at her list. “How many women have you life-coached in the past?”

“Well, I didn’t have an official job title, but I have two younger sisters, and an ex-wife, so I would say three.”

“But the wife is an ex, so maybe that did go well?” Riley asks. “And are your sisters productive members of society?”

“As opposed to being in jail?” I ask, laughing. “You’re hilarious, Riley.”

“You didn’t answer the question.”

“My sisters are great. The older one is married, a stay-at-home mom with two kids, and the younger one is a waitress.”

“But the ex-wife thing didn’t work out.”

“She’s not a mess, we just both decided that she shouldn’t be my wife anymore.”

“Why?”

I sit back in my chair and wipe my mouth on my napkin. “Because she thought it was a good idea to have sex with other men.”

Her eyebrows climb on her forehead and she blinks twice. “That’s a good reason.”

“I thought so.”

“Okay, next question.” She checks something on her paper and looks up at me with a smile. “How do you intend to be compensated for your work?”

“I’m working pro bono,” I reply with a wink.

“Why?”

“Because I’m going to be here anyway, and why not.” I shrug and finish the food on my plate. “What else do you want to know?”

“Is my coming to a virtual stranger’s apartment by myself one of the bad decisions you should have coached me on?”

I smile and set my plate aside so I can lean on the table. “Did the girls tell you that coming here by yourself was a bad idea?”

“I only talked to Cami and she thought I should come. Plus, I have a concealed carry, so I feel pretty confident that I’m safe.”

I raise a brow and cross my arms over my chest. “You carry a gun with you?”

“Hell to the yes,” she replies, and offers me a sweet smile. “I’ve been meeting strange men on the Internet. You bet your ass I’ve been armed.”

“Good idea,” I reply with a nod. “There are a lot of crazies out there.”

“Yes. But I think that if you’re gonna meet a crazy, it could be anywhere. Online, in a bar, at the gas station. They’re everywhere.”

“That’s true too,” I reply, and nod. “Well, I’m glad you’re being cautious.”

“I’m nobody’s victim,” she says, as casually as if she’s telling me her shoe size.

That’s fucking sexy.

“Do you have any other questions?”

“Not really,” she says, and shrugs. “I didn’t really write anything down. But it was fun to interrogate you a bit.”

“Now I have questions,” I reply, and smile when she cocks her head and purses her lips. “Do you really think you need a life coach?”

“No, I have my shit together,” she says with a grin.

“Why were you really on all of those sites?”

She shrugs. “Because it’s not easy meeting people. And sometimes a girl wants to go out on a date.”

“You don’t need me,” I reply, and smile. “But I’ll be around for a while, just in case.”

“Just in case I slip and fall back into the online dating?”

“That, or if you just want to have dinner, or chat. And I think we should watch a marathon of Star Wars. Your lack of knowledge is cause for concern.”

“It’s kind of a guy thing,” she says.

“I know many women who like Star Wars.”

“Well, I would watch one or two.”

“You need to see them all to understand what’s happening.”

“That’s a lot of hours of my life that I’ll never get back,” she says with a frown. “Aren’t there CliffsNotes somewhere? A speedy way to get caught up?”

“No,” I reply, and fist my hands in my lap so I don’t reach out and tuck her hair behind her ear.

Or yank her against me so I can kiss the fuck out of her.

“Are you okay?” she asks.

“Are you always this observant?”

“I’m an overthinker,” she says. “So yeah, I’m an observer.”

“I’ve been labeled an overthinker too,” I say with a grin.

“Would you say it’s an accurate assessment?”

“Oh yeah,” I say with a nod, and stand to clear our plates away. She stands to help. “I’ve got this.”

“No way, you cooked, so I’ll help clean.”

She walks ahead of me, her empty glass in one hand and her plate in the other. “Do you use the dishwasher, or do you wash by hand?”

“There are people who still wash by hand?”

“I’ve heard of them, but I’ve never seen them in the wild,” she says, and smiles up at me when I join her. “So I guess that means we use the dishwasher?”

“Yes.” She rinses and I load, and a few short minutes later, we’re done.

“Well, I suppose I should go,” she says, and checks the time on her phone. “Oh, Cami texted. I guess I should reply so she doesn’t think you killed me after the entrée.”

She smirks and types on her phone, then turns it off and looks up at me.

“Thanks for dinner.”

“You’re welcome.”

“I’ll see you tomorrow morning.”

Unfortunately, it won’t be in my bed.

“You will.”

“Okay.” She gathers her bag, notepad and pen, and walks to the door. “Sleep well tonight.”

I grin and congratulate myself for not dragging my fingertips down her cheek.

“You sleep well tonight, Riley.”

“Okay. Bye.”

She leaves and I close the door, letting out a slow breath. Jesus, she’s sexy and funny and smart as fuck.

And I’m not going to touch her while I’m here.

How the fuck am I going to do that?

#chapter reveal #Contemporary Romance #The Beauty of Us #Fusion Series #Kristen Proby #Hosted by InkSlinger PR

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