Good day to all
Here I am, trying my hand once again at the art of the written word. It's been a long time since I've written FanFics, and readers familiar with my past pieces might notice slight changes in the writing style.
After reading my old fics, I realized that I had a penchant for rather… long sentences which affected the overall readability. There is too much to fix, so I'll not be editing those, but I'll tweak my writing from now on.
I'm also going to try to upload shorter pieces (for consistency) but… if anyone has read 'A Second Chance', you would know that I tend to fail miserably at that.
I'll try to fix that habit too :')
Aside from that, please enjoy. It's been about… Holy Mavis, 7 years since I've done any writing, so please be kind.
Sam.
P.s. This is the new Chapter 1 to 'The Artist and her Model / Male Models Wanted'.
I'll be adjusting the Rating because I KNOW myself too well to be able to stick to a 'T' rating.
Who is this in my bed?
Her head hurt something fierce, and the single beam of sunlight leaking through the curtain gap was almost painful.
She grabbed the thick comforter and sluggishly pulled it over her head.
Good Mavis, what was going on with her brain? It felt like someone had driven a nail into her skull and twisted it, and was still twisting it. Her body felt like a brick, but her muscles like mush. Even the little action of pulling the comforter brought on a fresh ache that throbbed deep in her bones.
Lucy groaned, nearly coughing when the effort pinched her throat. There was a burning sensation in her throat and she struggled to swallow. However, saliva refused to form.
Damn it, I'm never drinking again. How much did I even have?
The beauteous blonde had never been one to abstain from the vices, but years of having to extricate herself from the arms of overly-passionate men had taught her to watch her intake. There was nothing more terrifying than having to flee the company of such men, especially when her legs refused to cooperate.
As such, she always made sure to keep to a two-drink limit, three or more only if she were in the company of her friends.
But this.
Good Mavis, it felt like she had downed a whole bottle by herself, and then maybe another.
In the far-off distance, a familiar sound rang out. Her alarm.
She would have liked nothing more than to leave it be and catch another forty winks, but the sound…
On other days, the merry tweeting of songbirds and the gurgling of the babbling brook would have filled her head with the memories of summer.
Now, they just filled it with pain.
Grunting, she dragged her leaden legs out from underneath the comforter… and her knees instantly hit the ground.
Wham!
"Mergg…" she whined weakly as the cold linoleum shots arrows of chill up into her bones. Although winter had yet to come round, the apartment block that she called home was old, and without the proper heating that other, more modern residential buildings boasted.
The chilly late Autumn air curled its fingers around her bare body, and gooseflesh erupted across her arms and breasts. Lucy gave a tiny 'Yikes' as she frantically rubbed her arms. She really needed to buy a heater, or move out. Though given her current financial state, that would probably happen only when cats fly (A/n: Hehe).
Rubbing her bleary eyes, she fumbled about for a piece of clothing to cover herself with. Her numb fingers wrapped themselves clumsily around some cotton, her robe probably, and she swished it about to unfurl it. Then, she reached an arm into one of its fluffy sleeves only to find herself grasping air.
"Wh-what…?"
The piece of clothing in her hand was not her robe.
"A shirt? This doesn't look like mine…" she mumbled.
The gears in her hungover brain ground slowly as they worked to decipher the origins of the unfamiliar piece of clothing. The Navy henley shirt was of a distinctly masculine design. Did this belong to one of her exes? But why would it be lying around on the floor? She would have tossed everything the day they split.
Just as she was about to launch into another mental inquiry, a groan resounded behind her.
"The hell?!" Lucy shrieked and crawled backwards awkwardly. The hand with the shirt flew out, as if the flimsy piece of cotton would protect her from the intruder in her bed. "Who's there?"
"Shut up, blondie. You're making my head pound."
The voice, like the shirt, was of a distinctly masculine design.
Her panicked eyes trailed up the thick comforter, and only then did they register a second lump under the voluminous folds. A lump, she thought with a sinking heart, that was too large to be just a bolster.
Not unless her bolster had suddenly sprouted legs, legs that were tanned with long scars carving out thin white lines along the calves. Even in her addled state, Lucy could not help but wonder as to the origin of the marks.
No, there were more important issues at hand.
Did she… Did she just have a one-night stand with a stranger?
"Get out," she squeaked, momentarily cursing the hoarseness of her throat. "Before I call the cops."
"Good Mavis, stop yelling."
The figure that rose out of the folds of her comforter made her jaw drop.
"Asshole! Why are you in my bed?!"
Thank you for the support :)
Sam.