Monday, 13 December 2010

Teaser for ICF chapter 17

Yeah, this took a while, I know. Got sidetracked by posting my other historical multichap and a new slash oneshot, but I'm back to working on ICF now. I love this story but I just have to take my time over it. This chapter will be posting very soon, here's the pictease and teaser below:



Jasper ushered me into the restaurant, his hand on my back as we ascended the steps. I wobbled on the top step and nearly lost my balance, but thankfully, his hand caught my arm just in time. I blushed furiously, cursing both the fact that I was clumsy and my decision to wear these stupid shoes I couldn't even walk in. I would have hoped I'd learned my lesson after that night at Esme's where my feet had been covered in blisters the next day from the walk home, but apparently not.

“Careful, there,” he told me as he pushed the heavy glass door open, holding it open for me as I walked inside.

“Shut up,” I murmured as we entered the room, refusing to look at him and see the smirk he was obviously sporting. It was filled with a soft glow, accentuated by the pale cream walls and black wooden tables and chairs arranged in perfect lines. There were a mix of customers already there – couples, friends, families, and it seemed like a nice relaxed place with a pleasant atmosphere. Too quiet a restaurant would have made me feel nervous. Here, I felt comfortable, and I hoped Jasper would too. “I'm so clumsy I swear it must be a medical condition or something,” I added with a sigh.

“I think it's cute,” he said very genuinely, smiling at me in that way that made me virtually turn to liquid.

“It's cute until I break my neck in these stupid shoes.”

He looked down at the purple, strappy suede stilettos on my feet, with their four-inch heels, and let out a sharp intake of breath. “I know you can't really walk in those, but hell, they're hot. I'll just hang on to your arm whenever you aren't sitting down.”


I'm sure that teaser gave you a good idea...bwahahaha. Am I evil, teasing whore? Why yes, I am. Hope you enjoy it when it's up, and I love you all for still reading and sticking with these two. xxx

Thursday, 9 December 2010

Teaser/pictease for my new slash oneshot

I've been totally fail at using this blog lately, so sorry about that. I'm working on the next ICF update and have a bunch of other projects going on too, but in the meantime, because I'm clearly crazy, I also found time to write a whole new oneshot. It's Edward/Jasper, my first slash and I hope you'll give it a try. It's smutty but also emotional. It'll be up in the next few days. Pictease and teaser below:




I tilt the glass to my lips, savouring the taste: mint, cedar, spice. I drink it down, relishing the slow, sharp burn as the whiskey works its way inside me, searing away at least a little of the numbness. The hot, dark amber is soothing as it slips down my throat, and for a moment, I imagine that he's still here. That any minute I'll turn my head from the bar stool and see him smile at me, feel his warm hand slip into mine, and hear him order his usual - just a plain old beer. He never quite acquired my taste for whiskey, something I'd often tease him about. Now I'd give anything to have him here drinking his watered-down-piss beer and running a hand through his burnished copper hair; that nervous habit I always adored on him.

The bar is packed with drunken laughter and an air of happiness and contentment. It's just under a month until Christmas, and traces are everywhere: tinsel, the tree by the bar strung with colourful lights, the frost clinging to the window frame. It's the end of the working week, everybody coming together to enjoy the preamble to the weekend. This stings me more than it might, because usually, he would be here. We'd be sitting over in the usual corner with friends, laughing and talking as we let alcohol wash away the week's stresses. Even while absorbed in conversation with others, our eyes would meet from time to time in a silent promise of later. A promise of heated sweat-slick skin against cool sheets and hot, hard kisses as bodies, hands and mouths moved together.

Edward. My lips form the syllables of that oh-so-familiar name automatically, even if I do not verbalise them. It tastes harsh and bitter on my tongue, like unripe fruit or milk that's soured, a far cry from the sweetness it once held for me. 
Thanks for reading. xxx

 
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